Dean and the Dryad Pt. 03

Sam woke before sunrise, glad to see a new day approach. He'd had dark visits all night, but couldn't tell if they were wish-fulfillment dreams or part of his psychic gift. Sam regarded his abilities in a way similar to victims of childhood abuse. The guilt and shame were ever-present secrets he tried to hide. He stroked himself for a few minutes, indulging the memory of delicate wrists knotted in yards of black cashmere, the look in her eyes when she knew there was no escape. Lengths of rope made heavy breasts bulge, split the crevice of her buttocks. He'd strummed the lines, listening for the music of her cries and the moment tears turned into sobs of ecstasy.

Sam felt himself barreling toward climax, but he squeezed the crown of his cock, denying himself release. He was sick. "And that, Sam," he gritted through his teeth, "is why you'll always be alone."

In the kitchen, Bobby was already brewing coffee and making a big skillet of eggs and potatoes.

"Morning, Sam. Sleep well?"

"Like a rock," Sam cracked, mimicking jerking off. "Seriously, is it me or is testosterone at an all-time high around here?"

Bobby laughed; Sam didn't usually make jokes. "Well, there's a pretty face around, but we've seen 'em come and go. May as well stick to what we do best."

Sam nodded. "Speaking of that, before grocery shopping last night I went back to search the warehouse. I'd never seen anything destroy a demi-god like that. Good thing, too—apparently that siren I'd heard wasn't for us. Police hadn't touched the scene."

"That was lucky," Bobby said, plunking two plates down on the table. They sat and ate. "What did you find?"

"More like what didn't I find. No weapon. And unless she's some master-level witch, no one could cast a spell like that."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying there's more to our guest than meets the eye."

Bobby nodded. "This morning, on the farm report, they had news of a crop circle on the other side of town. Prime nymph omen—but Zena was knocked out all night."

"I'm going to hit the study today, see what I can find out," Sam replied.

The front door opened and Dean came in with a gust of cold air.

"Don't ask," he replied to their quizzical looks. He poured coffee and began loading up a plate. "You guys already ate?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "But leave enough for Zena. I'd have taken her something, but 'nobody touches her but you'."

Bobby's eyebrows shot up. "You said that? What's wrong with you, boy?"

Dean groaned. "Look man, I was tripping. I'm sorry." He began fixing Zena's plate, slicing up a tomato and cucumber salad to go with her eggs. Bobby and Sam shared a look of disbelief. It wasn't the apology. Dean breaking out fresh produce was reason enough for an exorcism. But when he sat down to eat, his appetite still came first.

"My game's been off, I know it. I've got it under control now."

"Good," Bobby said, pulling on his coat. "I've gotta run across the state line ta pick over a bunch of junkers. I'll see you all tonight."

"OK then." Sam hated any kind of conflict with his brother. "I'll be in the library for most of the day. Gotta see how to fight against these nymphs if they come around."

"You sure? We've got the No. 1 dryad killa in the house. Zena can probably handle anything a nymph throws her way," Dean exclaimed.

"Yeah, but it may be complicated."

"What's complicated?" Zena had padded down the hallway unseen.

Dean jumped up from the table, scraping his chair along the floor and shoveling half the food on his plate into his mouth. "I'm out," he mumbled through the eggs. "Text me what I need to pick up."

"Good morning to you, too," Zena said to Dean's fast-retreating back. "What's with him?"

"Oh, he's fine. Not freaking out at all," Sam said sarcastically. He sighed and stood. I hope this girl isn't more trouble than she's worth. "Eat up, I'll be in the study."

Zena sighted the covered plate on the countertop and dug in. She felt great, all things considered, even though her presence seemed to clear the room. She rinsed the plate, then retreated to wash up in the old-fashioned bathroom. Underneath the sharp scent of bar soap she smelled a faint trace of Dean, and something else. A woman.

Jealousy hit her like a sledgehammer. He'd turned her down when she was so hot she couldn't see straight, then went out and fucked someone else? She felt robbed. That tangy scent mingled with man cum on the air should have been hers. Pissed, she slammed the door.

In the daylight, the cabin revealed itself as more of a cottage in the woods. It was actually quite charming, with a huge stone hearth in the living room that dominated the layout. The rest of the rooms, the kitchen, bathroom and down a short hallway, the bedrooms, led off from the living room. At the opposite end of the hall, a shaft of sunlight fell directly onto a heavy wooden door, like a beacon.

Beyond the door was a fortress of books. Shelves and shelves of ancient texts lined every wall, up to the roof. In the middle, Sam sat at a large, carved desk, poring over a leather-bound tome.

She saw why his initial impression as a giant had stuck. His hair, longer and lighter than Dean's, hung down over his eyes. The book looked almost comical in his oversized hands. Even seated, the length of his body was as plain as the muscles under his flannel. He spoke without looking up.

"How're your ribs?"

"Achy, but improving." She walked around to peer over his shoulder at the spidery print. "This book looks like it's a hundred years old!"

The weight of her fingertips on his shoulder was feather-light, but Sam was acutely aware of it. She smelled faintly sweet and fresh.

"Three hundred," Sam said proudly. "But it's a translation of much older Greek mythology. I'm researching nymphs."

She zeroed in on the stack to his left. "Let me help."

They dove int¬¬o the investigation. Sam couldn't help but notice how motivated Zena was. Maybe underneath all the bad-ass warrior princess-ness, she was a dork like him. Or maybe there was something more to her interest. After an hour of reading, he sat back.

"So the nymphs use sex as a weapon, but it's a double-edged sword," he explained, trying to gauge her reaction. "They're stronger the longer they're celibate, but if they're hurt, sex helps them heal. The stronger the attraction, the faster they regenerate. But it can be dangerous for their human partners: they get obsessive, and sounds like they can have a permanent psychological break."

"They go zombie," she said flatly. "It's actually similar to what dryads do to nymphs. According to the lore," she added quickly.

"Right! My source says that many nymphs start out as human women too, at least until the dryad enslaves them. Then they get, like, Stockholm Syndrome. That might explain why no nymph came forward when you killed the dryad. Maybe you broke the spell and freed her."

Zena's whole demeanor changed. "Really? She might be free? Maybe she needs our help!"

Sam narrowed his eyes. That was more than enthusiasm; that was hope in her voice. Still, Zena didn't appear to be evil; what if the nymph wasn't evil, either?

"Let's see. It cross-references another book we have, The Wood Faerie. See if you find anything in there." Sam pulled it out of the stack and Zena dove in.

Sam was glad for the time they were spending together. He was impressed by the sharpness of her mind and her sense of humor. When she rested her hand on his arm, he felt himself warming to the light in her eyes. Not that it removed his doubts completely—there was still more to her story than she was sharing.

After a couple of hours, Sam pushed back from the table.

"I texted Dean everything I think will help, but my eyes need a break. You want anything to drink?"

She didn't pause in her reading. "No thanks."

"Hey, Zena," Sam gently pulled the book from her grip. "We need to talk."

"Sure, what's on your mind?"

"How did you kill that dryad? I was late on the scene, but I didn't see you use a weapon or anything. Was it a spell?"

"Sort of. A dance."

"Can you show me?"

"No." Zena leaned back and began arranging her long locks in a bun, a nervous habit. The posture lifted her breasts higher, and Sam flashed back to his dream where he'd tied her up so tightly her breasts looked ready to pop. His cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"The dance makes people do bad things. Most people, anyway. You seem different."

"Why?"

"Er...I'm not sure how to put this."

"Because I'm alone with you and not climbing the walls right now, like Dean would be?"

She froze, then continued cautiously. "Yes, if you want to put it that way."

Sam gave a sad little smile. "That's the difference between Dean and me. He's a troglodyte sometimes, but that's because he's all the way, 100 percent human."

"You're not?"

"Demon blood when I was a baby changed that. I'm a hybrid, something that doesn't have a name." He reached across the table for her hand. "Unlike you."

Zena bit her lip, struggling with the secret she'd guarded her entire adult life.

"I wasn't trying to trick you."

"You just conveniently forgot to tell us what you are."

"It wasn't like that. I'm sorry, Sam. I knew I didn't have a lot of time before she came after me."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "You said you were hunting the dryad in Colorado, but you weren't, were you?"

Zena shook her head. She seemed unable to lie to gentle Sam. "It was hunting me. It followed me."

"Why?"

"When my mom ran off with my stepdad, she was already pregnant. She didn't know. She said I was more powerful than her, that as a born nymph, the driad would never stop tracking me. That's why I had to kill him. He was ruthless, he would have enslaved me the way he did my mom and her sister."

"Wait a minute, you have an aunt?" Sam smacked his forehead. "She's the other nymph!"

"Yes, but she stayed with my father. I've seen her only once; she's very powerful. I almost didn't escape."

"That explains the crop circle." Sam's face was inscrutable; smooth, but underneath dark emotions burned. "Not what you did to Dean."

"Hey!" Zena slammed her hand on the table, glowering. "Nobody asked you to be a hero and bring me to your house. I'm grateful you saved my life, but you took it upon yourself to do that."

"And you took it upon yourself to do that voodoo you do. My brother's hooked! You knew what could happen to him, but you got with Dean anyway. You used him to heal yourself!"

Zena closed her eyes, holding back the tears. "The longer I take to heal, the longer I'm here, the more danger you guys are in. I had to speed things up. But I held back, anyway. We didn't have sex."

What Zena didn't say was how badly she'd wanted to. Even as she studied with Sam, she wondered where he was and what he was doing.

Reading those old books had taught her things she'd never known about herself. When a free nymph mates, it is immediate and for life, the book had said. Dean was hers, or supposed to be, and he knew it in his bones as surely as she did. So why didn't he come to her? Why did he run?

"Are you strong enough to face the nymph if she comes? We'll back you up with everything we've got, but it wouldn't take much for a smart nymph to exploit the situation between Dean and you. Or Dean and me. We would be fighting each other in minutes. You may have missed it, but you've been the source of some tension around here."

"I thought you said she could have been freed by the driad's death? Why are you acting like she's still an enemy?"

"Is that a chance you want to take?"

Zena's foot began to wiggle. Sam was right. "Then I need to be at full strength," she said flatly.

Sam's control was a tightly held mask; he feared what might happen if he let loose. "What about Dean?"

The wind scraped a tree branch along the back wall, and both of them jumped.

"Do you think we can afford to wait?"

Sam salivated at the thought of finally beating Dean to home base; to feel Zena twist and sweat under him. But he had to warn her.

"I'm a little less, uh, vanilla than most guys," he fumbled. Then he started over. He didn't want to scare her, but she had to know what to expect.

"You're a powerful being; haven't you ever wanted to lay that burden down?"

Sam stepped between her knees, towering over her, feeling her body's energy and letting her feel his. He stayed there until she nodded. "Then let me carry it for you, for a short while."

Then he knelt in front of her. Zena gazed into Sam's light eyes and saw her reflection there, but it was not her normal self. She saw her damage, the way she hurt other people to get what she needed. She needed to be broken in order to be fixed. It wasn't power she was tired of dragging around, it was guilt. Moreover, it was her walls. She'd been so guarded for so long, the thought of giving another the reins so completely was incredibly erotic. Her voice trembled with the possibility.

"I don't think I know how."

"Just give me control, Zena. I see the pain in you, because it's in me, too. Let's work on it together. I promise not to hurt you."

"How does it work?"

"If you want to stop, say 'Kansas' and the whole scene ends."

She stood and he followed suit. It had already begun.

Zena felt the force of his desire coursing through her. It was like someone flipped a switch. Warm Sam became hot - and hard-hearted. He unbuckled his belt and pulled it out through the loops, his face like stone. He showed her the heavy leather belt.

"You came here breaking the rules, even when it was clear people could be hurt. I'm going to name your infractions while I punish you, and you're going to count them off. Then you're going to repeat them to me. Each mistake will result in further punishment. Am I clear?"

"Yes." She didn't say Yes, Sam, because she didn't feel like she was talking to Sam anymore. She was talking to Fate; someone to hold her accountable. He fingered the hem of her tank top, glad she'd put her hair in a bun. That made it easier to pull the shirt up over her head and behind her back, twisting until it formed a makeshift harness. He tied it off, then surveyed his work. Instinctively, she struggled against the restraint for a few seconds, to no avail. It was quick and dirty, but effective.

"Face down on the table. Don't make a sound." He sounded like Sam again, caring and sweet, except he was wrapping the buckle end of the belt around his fist.

Zena wasn't sure if it was the fear or excitement, but her body was responding. She knew she could get free if she really wanted to. So she relaxed into her bindings. The thrill of excitement was sparking inside. As she faced the table, Sam reached out and pulled her bra down, further constricting her. His fingers briefly trailed over her breasts, but didn't linger. Then he put one of his oversized paws on the small of her back and bore down until she was bent at a 90-degree angle. Her nipples bit into the cool wood. Of her own accord, she gripped her elbows behind her back.

Sam's groin was getting warm. It was as though she already knew what he wanted. Without unsnapping her fly, he worked her pants past her hips and down under her backside. Her crossed arms and the tight waistband made the perfect frame for her plump ass. He hitched her higher on the table, so that her legs kicked out at a slight angle and revealed her dark pout. Zena felt the cool breeze of exposure and involuntarily winked her passage at him.

Just to calm himself, slow things down, he delicately traced over, under, and around her globes with the leather belt, taking particular care to gently floss between her cheeks. He smiled at her twitching flesh and the shaky sigh that escaped her lips. She looked so tantalizing, he dropped one kiss on her bare ass. Then he began.

"As I said, you have been a guest here for less than 24 hours. Yet in that time, you've broken So. Many. Rules." He tapped her cheeks with the folded belt for emphasis.

"I'm sorry."

Whap! Sam's strap licked across both cheeks with an eye-watering sting. The force behind the hit shocked Zena so much she didn't cry out.

"You don't speak unless I pose a direct question," he said, in a wholly calm voice. "I shouldn't even have to tell you that. That's a primary rule." He rubbed her bottom, thrilling at the welt that was already rising. It stretched across both moons, accentuating her curves.

"But since I didn't tell you in advance, and it was a rough strike, I'll let you off with just one. OK?" He waited, then continued in a colder voice. "See, that was a direct question. I'm expecting an answer. Yes?"

"Y-yes, Sam."

"Good. Now, back to your infractions. You came in and were immediately divisive. We took you in, nursed you, fed you. And in return you seduced Dean." Whap! "Pushed him toward the edge when he helped you!" Whap! "Disrespected Bobby in his own home." Whap! "Lied to my face about who you were." Whap! "And lied to me about you and Dean. I don't—" whap "hear—" whap "any counting!" Whap!

Zena gasped with the effort to count through her shrieks. Her face felt as hot as her behind, and each miscount resulted in a stinging lash that made her arch up in turmoil. It hurt, but worse than that was her reaction to the humiliation. He had positioned her directly over a series of rounded carvings on the desk. With each flinch, she bumped her mound on the protrusions. Her nipples dragged over the hand-finished plane, and her ass tensed and released in time with his blows.

"I said, Don't. Move!"

Sam's voice was guttural. He had her pinned her by the small of her back with one hand. Though he held the strap, Zena was whipping him into a frenzy. The way her body bounced and squirmed, the shine of her dark muff tempted him to no end. He circled around the desk to face her. She was performing so well. Evidence of her success packed the front of his jeans, and he rubbed the rough denim back and forth across her cheeks and mouth. Like a good girl, she didn't suck without being told; she just let her lips go slack so he could shallowly bump against her steaming tongue. He brought his hand down hard between her cheeks, and drew back slick fingers. He began to alternate spanks with more exploratory punishments.

The energy of their passion filled the room. Her internal bruises receded, her cracked ribs knit back together on the molecular level. Zena felt a growing sense of balance; she deserved this pain and pleasure. Sam started over, making sure she counted each blow loud and clear. By the time he had her repeat her transgressions, Zena was near orgasm.

"You seduced Dean."

"I-seduced-Dean," she repeated.

"Did you take his tongue in your mouth?"

"Yes."

"Did you suck on it?"

"Yes," she hissed.

"Where were his hands?"

"All over me."

Whap!

"Between my thighs, two fingers, sliding in and out of me on the kitchen counter. And in my shirt, on my hips, my neck, everywhere."

"Did you cum for him?"

"Mhm, hard. I thought he would fuck me right there. I never wanted it to end."

Zena shivered at the memory of Dean's eyes, the weight of his voice and crush of his body on her, while Sam's licks played a sharp counterpoint. What one brother gave in pleasure, the other took in pain. She could hardly think straight, but Sam was a stickler. When she didn't supply enough detail, he didn't spare the strap.

Zena's ass was undulating, her nether lips swollen so they resembled a fist. An abstract pattern of welts criss-crossed her backside. Sam regretted that they would fade in a day or two. If she were his, he would get them permanently tattooed so he could enjoy them all the time. Suddenly, he stopped. Zena's moans and his breathing were loud in the room.

"What the hell?" Dean's voice boomed.