Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

[trashmod]

Holy shitballs, look at us go. Welcome to Captain America fandom's resident wretched hive of scum and villainy: ROUND THREE. AKA Bad Guys Do Dirtybadwrong Things To Your Faves, AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. As usual, BLANKET NON-CON AND NSFW WARNINGS apply: just assume going in that everything in this landfill is unfit for human consumption.

Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, and dark!good guys AUs are off-topic.

[Round 1] [Round 2] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by greenkirtle)] [Round 3 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.

Comments

Tainted Touch (a.k.a. Bucky's broken dick, Natasha strapon version.)

[(Anonymous)]

Hey, I hope this is allowed, but I was filling this prompt on Round 2, but I see Round 2 is already barely getting updated. I still have quite a lot to go, so I thought I'd move it here so it doesn't tumblr into oblivion.

This is the original prompt, I have no idea if the OP of it is still around - but hey, I'm having fun with it:

Because decades of man-on-man Hydra rapes, Bucky basically can't get it up with a woman anymore, certainly not if he's expected to be the more active party. He can't get hard during a blowjob, he can't stay erect long enough to actually have intercourse.

He wants to, he tries, but he just can't. The more he tries, the more he can't, of course.

He suspects he might still get gratification from being fucked and humiliated during sex, and in a moment of desperation he ends up asking Nat for help.

Basically he suspects he might need to be dominated, fucked hard with a strapon, maybe be slapped around some and be called names and humiliated.

Nat is sort of cool with that, she's not squeamish about sex, but Bucky is still incredibly embarrassed and full of guilt about needing this (and also remembers penetration being brutal and painful, so he's scared), which causes it to fail at first, too, causing even more angst.

Give me all the angst and tears and emotional pain of trying to make this work. Give me all the embarassment, guilt and feelings of inadequacy on Bucky's end. Physically, it gets him off, emotionally it wrecks him.

Bonus round 1: This starts out as somewhat of a business transaction where Nat sort of sees herself doing therapy for him, but they end up developing genuine, deep feelings for each other, causing it to be harder on both of them.

Bonus round 2: Especially the humiliation part becomes hard on Nat, especially realizing this has actually been done to him. Progressively worse top drop on her end would be glorious. Extra bonus if she actually enjoys fucking him, but feels guilty.

Bonus round 3: Falling in love with Bucky in earnest also brings up feelings of hurt in relation to her infertility. I do not like how it was done in AoU, but maybe someone here can do it better. It's not like she feels like a monster because of it, but she is surprised she actually might *consider* it, but the reality of her own body and the fucked up situation makes it crazy to think it, but she things it anyway.

Bonus round 4: Bucky even-ntually desperately trying to reciprocate and trying to please Nat sexually, but failing. Nat being sad but patient.

Bonus round 5: throughout all this Bucky repeatedly relives his trauma, but he's afraid to tell her in fear she might stop, until he too finally breaks down and Nat is angry but also deeply sad.

Bonus round 6: All the weepy loving and kissing despite broken dicks.


Yeah, I thought about this way too much.

Tainted Touch 3e/?

[(Anonymous)]

So this was supposed to be the last of chapter 3, but nope, there will be one more after this.

---

It turned out Max had quite the playroom underneath the shop. The shop itself now had a 'Closed' sign in front of the window, and it was just the two of them down here. The basement was filled with strange furniture that reminded Bucky of drawings of torture devices he had seen in a book as a child once.

He could see his own hand, smaller then and eager turn the pages...

No, stop.

He allowed himself one brief moment of joy for remembering something from his childhood, then tucked the memory away for later, so no more of it could be tainted by what he was about to do here.

It struck Bucky the man he was with might be a sociopath, and kill him down here. No one would ever know. So what, said a voice in his head, you get to cum or you get to die, either way you get some peace.

Bucky pulled his hood off, giving Max a good look at his face. He could tell from his expression that he was pleased.

"God, you're beautiful," Max breathed as he put his hand under Bucky's chin. Bucky responded by moving his mouth to Max' hand, taking his thumb in his mouth. He sucked it like it was a cock, bobbing his head, and felt himself react to it instantly. He made eye contact with Max while he was sucking, and saw pure unadulterated lust in the other man's eyes.

If he had ever hoped to avert this, it was too late now. He'd stay in this makeshift dungeon and let this stranger do anything to him...anything at all. And that was the intention, after all, wasn't it? To lose himself to someone's rough touches, so he could stop having to do it himself.

He sunk to his knees, still clothed, his thighs spread apart. He folded his hands behind his head, like he'd do if someone had a gun on him: a sign of surrender. He lowered his gaze, waiting for whatever was coming.

His face was now at Max' crotch level, and he could smell the arousal. He loathed it. The scent of male arousal disgusted him, but yet he felt a conditioned need he could not fight, and he knew that cock would be in his mouth soon enough, regardless of how he really felt about it.

"What do I call you, anyway?"

"My name is James. Some call me Soldier. But you can call me whatever you want, Sir."

He could see Max' bulge grow. He liked Sir, then. That would be convenient. Sir worked quite well for Bucky. He was used to it after all.

Bucky could feel calloused fingers entwine with his hair and pull at it roughly. He gasped, but didn't move from his position.

"I think I'll call you Fuckdoll, James. You look like a Fuckdoll to me."

Bucky simply looked up to him and nodded, still feeling the pull on his hair.

"So what's your safeword, Fuckdoll?"

Bucky just gave him a confused look.

"God, you are new. It's a word you use when you want me to stop what I'm doing."

"What's wrong with just 'stop'?"

"Nothing," Max said and his grip loosened slightly, "it's just that some people don't actually mean 'stop' when they say it. But they still need a way to make it stop sometimes. So they say the word. Do you understand that, James? It's important that you do."

Bucky nodded. He did understand it. And it sounded like the best idea ever.

"Pierce," he managed. "My word is Pierce."

Max' grip on his hair tightened again.

"Good boy. You'll learning fast. I'll go easy on you."

"Please don't, Sir."

Max released his grip on his hair, and then Bucky was backhanded unexpectedly. It wasn't really that hard, but the surprise made him cry out.

"Did you just talk back to me, Fuckdoll?"

"Yes," Bucky spat.

"Max' hand landed on the other side of his face. This time it actually stung. Bucky's eyes teared up, more from humiliation than pain, but he looked at Max defiantly.

"Now whatever made you think that was a good idea?" Max asked as he forced Bucky's face up to look at him.

"I don't want you to go easy on me, Sir. " Bucky replied, despite watering eyes. "I can take it hard. I need it hard."

Bucky couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth, but yet there they were, spoken in desperation, driven by pure physical need. He didn't care anymore. He'd let this man abuse him in any damn way he pleased it if would lead to an orgasm.

Max released his grip fully.

"Strip," he ordered, and Bucky did so. It was a clumsy process, trying to do it kneeling down, but he managed.

Once naked, he covered his left shoulder with his right hand - a strange, almost chaste gesture. Max was unsurprisingly taken back by the sight of a metal arm, but to his credit he didn't look put off by it. There was a softening in his demeanor even through his arousal, and Bucky thought he should probably act fast as he could, before it devolved into pity. Because really, pity was not something he could work with here.

"Hence the Soldier," he explained - and lied, but only by omission. "I'm ex-military. Let's not talk about it." Then, realizing he was being forceful while he was supposed to be submissive, he added: "Please, Sir. It ruins the mood".

Bucky felt calloused fingers stroke his hair and then his cheek. The gentleness of it surprised him.

"It's okay, kid. I don't need to know. I can make you get out of your head if you need to."

Bucky leaned into the soft touch. A part of him - a part that ran deeper than the arousal and the anger - wanted to be touched like that forever. He longed for someone's arms around him, cherishing him, telling his it's going to be okay. Only it was not okay. It was never going to be okay again . And who was going to love him if this was he only way...the only way he could...

He swallowed a sob.

"Thank you, Sir."

Max' hand tightened around Bucky's hair again. He closed his eyes. He could hear the sound of pants being unbuttoned and a zipper opening. The sound itself was enough to bring shivers down his spine. It had been ingrained in his memory over decades, and no amount of wiping his brain could remove it. It meant there was no escape for him. The inevitable would soon happen. He'd be fucked in any way the other man deemed fitting.

Bucky could smell the muskiness when Max' cock sprung free from its pants. He opened his eyes again. Max's erection was barely an inch removed from his lips. The man was thick and large. This was going to be unpleasant.

Good.

"Do you want my cock, Fuckdoll?" the man standing over him asked.

"No, Sir," he replied truthfully, "but that's sort of the point."

That was the last thing he could say before a cock was shoved in his mouth, and down his throat.

Ooops, forgot! First few chapters!

[(Anonymous)]

are here: http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1504.html?thread=2183392#cmt2183392

Re: Tainted Touch 3f/?

[(Anonymous)]

Yeah this is totally out of hand.

---

Max forced his cock all the way in. He grabbed Bucky's hair, holding his head in place. Bucky could feel his lips touching pubic hair and his jaw being stretched open. The large shaft had pushed past the point of being comfortable, but that was allright, it's what he needed.

Bucky's eyes were tearing up and he was struggling for air. He felt utterly humiliated and violated, but there was something else underneath there: a strange sense of comfort from being used like that.

There was a peace that came from being penetrated. It gave him clarity. It gave him purpose. There would be turmoil again once this was over - but not here, not now.

Max held him there for a minute...perhaps two. Bucky felt himself struggle for air, but he did not pull away. He felt his cheeks turn red and his knees grow wobbly, but he would not stop this man from using him.

Finally he was let go and he gasped for air, taking deep breaths to fight the dizziness.

"Oh my God, that's amazing, Fuckdoll. You weren't lying about that gag reflex, were you?"

"No, Sir," he replied, "I'm well-trained."

His mouth was entered again, and this time Max just face-fucked him roughly, with no regard to his personal comfort. The cock kept hitting the back of his throat, and even after a few thrusts he felt like passing out.

In his hazy state, images flashed before his mind's eye, and he allowed himself to be lost in them.

He was in somebody's office. The blinds were down so nobody could see in, but rays of afternoon light still shone through. Behind the desk, there was a handsome blond man. He reminded him of someone...someone he had long forgotten...but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

There was a pressure around his throat, and he realized he was on a literal leash. Holding the leash was Sergei, looking older now than that time on the tundra. It was strange to have both those images in his head simultaneously, and so vividly: the young version of the man, and the older one, with graying hair, sun-damaged skin and a scar over his cheek.

"Do you find this entirely necessary?" he asked with a thick Russian accent, as he looked at the leash with disgust.

"No...", the blond man said,"but I find symbolism...important. You are transferring ownership to me, after all, and I find it important my new Asset understands that.

Sergei shrugged. "Whatever you want. My bosses tell me he's yours now." He handed the leash over to the blond man, who smiled ominously. "And what a fine specimen I have acquired. I am told he's obedient in ever way?"

Sergei nodded. "See for yourself if you don't believe me."

"Oh I will."

The blond man released the leash and turned his gaze to the Soldier..

"Strip," he ordered.

The Soldier obeyed without hesitation, soon standing fully naked, except for the leash. The blond man took a step back and circled him, inspecting his naked form. He ran his hand over he scar tissue near the Soldier's prosthetic. It almost made the Soldier flinch...almost.

"Open your mouth", he ordered, and the Soldier did.

"Good teeth", he heard as fingers invaded his mouth.

The blond man continued to touch his arm muscles, then pinched his nipples, moved down to stroke his abdomen, only to end at the Soldier's cock, that involuntarily reacted to his touch.

"I'm told it's been a while since he's been used."

"Yes," said Alexei. "We keep him frozen between missions. No point in wasting potential when he's not needed."

The blond man moved behind the Soldier, where he couldn't see what he was doing.

"I meant the other sort of use."

The Soldier felt a stinging pain: a dry finger forcing itself inside his anus without warning or preparation. He let out an involuntary whimper, but stayed in position, letting the man use him as he wished.

"God, he's tight."

"My predecessor enjoyed using him like that. But it's been a few years now. I'm sure you will find him good as new."

The Soldier thought he could discern a mild disgust in Sergei's voice, but perhaps it was his imagination.

"I think I would rather like a test drive," the blond man said with a smirk.

"All yours," Sergei said, with mild annoyance.

The blond man cleared his desk and the Soldier could not help but notice that one of the things removed was the picture of a smiling woman and a little girl. When the desk was empty, the Soldier felt a tug on his leash.

"Lie down on your back," he was told, and he obeyed. The blond man positioned him so that his head was still sticking out over the edge, and muscle memory made him know what was coming. He wasn't even asked anymore. The blond man forced open his mouth by squeezing his jaw, and the Soldier let it fall open pliantly. Mere seconds later his mouth was invaded by an erect cock. In this position, his throat was stretched and his head tilted back slightly. The cock found no resistance from him and it slid all the way in, filling his throat under the leash.

The blond man placed a hand on the Soldier's throat, pressing down, feeling his own cock there. A groan of pleasure escaped his mouth.

"Your predecessor trained him well," he said to Sergei. "What was his name, Alexei?"

The Soldier heard no reply, and could only assume that Sergei had nodded.

The blond man turned his attention back to him. "Well, that should be easy for you to remember, pet. I'm Alexander. But you may call me Mr. Pierce. Whimper if you understand."

The Soldier whimpered. Pierce laughed.

"Good boy."

Pierce grabbed hold of his hair, and forced himself even deeper. The Soldier could feel his throat constricting. He couldn't breathe. His face was turning red for lack of oxygen. He was on the verge of passing out.

"So damn good," he could hear in what felt like a distance.

Just before the Soldier thought he'd lose consciousness, the cock withdrew and he gasped for air. But it was merely a brief reprieve, because Pierce re-entered him instantly, and started fucking his throat with long, deep strokes that made his vision black out each time Pierce hit home.

The Soldier hated the taste, hated the smell. The lack of air made him feel anxious and vulnerable. But he was proud, too, proud of being called good, proud for being obedient, proud of being the best soldier he could be. He was well-trained. He could take any pain or discomfort. He was pleasing his new handler, and after all that was all that mattered.If he proved useful he wouldn't be kept in storage, until years later, with holes in his memory. Pleasing his handlers was important. It kept him alive, and if some them wanted to use his holes, then so be it. It was no worse than taking a bullet. Hurt less, most of the time.

He tried to loosen his jaw as much as he could, allowing his new handler to use him as he wanted. He was glad that he didn't have to worry about his gag reflex anymore. It had been fucked out of him over many, many years. Alexei had told him it was for his own good, and he knew that was true now. Pierce's enthusiastic grunts told him he was doing a good job. His new handler was taking pleasure from him. This was a good sign.

He tried to focus on that, on the pleasure he was giving. If he focused on that and not on the pain and discomfort, he could take anything.

But then Pierce started pulling on his leash, constricting his air even more. The grip on his hair tightened, and the thrusts became more violent. His throat instinctively constricted again to fight the intrusion, but that only resulted in even harder thrusts and raw grunts of pleasure from Pierce.

"That's it, boy. Take it. Choke on it. Unnghh."

The times that his vision blacked out become longer and longer, until he could only hear the grunts, and in the end even the noise faded away into blackness.

Tainted Touch 3g?

[(Anonymous)]

Really, I don't even know with this chapter thing.

Everything is awful.

---

Bucky came to, gasping for air at another man's feet, at another time and place. He couldn't have blacked out for too long, because Max didn't seem worried, and he struck him as the kind of guy who didn't want a dead body in his basement.

"Don't tell me you're giving up already, Fuckdoll?" the voice above him sounded.

"No Sir," he said, his voice coarse.

Max grabbed his hair and pulled Bucky to his knees again. It hurt and it was humiliating - which meant it made him hard. His lips were still streaked with saliva, and he knew how he must have looked: like a cheap whore, willing to do anything for a buck. He lifted his eyes towards Max' face and opened his mouth willingly. The cock was reinserted instantly, finding it's way to the back of his throat - cutting off his air again and ramming in full force.

Bucky observed the man's face and he could see pleasure there. He remembered that, how important giving pleasure was. How the pleasure of others always had to come before his. How his discomfort was irrelevant in the matter.

"You're an filthy little slut, aren't you Fuckdoll?" Max grunted.

Buck didn't really think the man wanted an answer, so he kept sucking expertly. Max seemed aroused by his own words, and fucked Bucky with new vigor. His vision faded to black every time the cock hit home.

For a moment Bucky feared Max might come then and there, dumping his load in Bucky's mouth. The thought filled Bucky with a strange dread, because that would probably mean he'd leave here without getting release, that all of this would have been for naught.

Fortunately, Max soon pulled out. Bucky blinked with tear-filled eyes as he could finally breathe normally again.

"Didn't think I'd let you leave without trying out that sweet ass, did you?"

"I was hoping not, Sir."

Max grinned. "Good boy."

He dragged Bucky by the hair still, forcing him to crawl to the other side of the room. He stopped in front of what looked like a vaulting horse - at least, it looked very similar to the ones Bucky had seen at school and military training. The only real difference was that there were two leather straps attached to it near the floor,and two leather straps on the far side of it, closer to each other.

"Up," Max ordered, and Bucky did.

He had barely found balance when his legs were kicked apart. His training would be good enough to stop this instantly, but that would go against the point. Max crouched down and fastened the leather straps around his ankles, keeping his legs apart.

"Bend over," the next order sounded, and that too was obeyed.

Max attached the straps on the other end around Bucky's wrist tightly, causing Bucky to be immobilized on the contraption, legs parted , ass up, and arms pulled forward.

Bucky could not see what Max was doing behind him, but he felt something leathery touch his buttocks.

"You look like you've been a bad, haven't you, Fuckdoll?" the husky voice asked.

"Very, very bad," Bucky spat.

He did not like the question...even within this setting. Yes, he had been bad. He had taken lives and dreams, he had influences regimes for the worse, he had caused collateral damage he couldn't even estimate the full impact of. Those memories sometimes haunted him more that their hands on him, than their cocks in him - at least that was just him suffering then, not innocents. What was done to him disgusted him, but what he did to others...that was truly what kept him up at night.

Part of him wondered if that was why he was doing this. Sure, he was frustrated and would do anything for an orgasm...but then, there were people who went without sex for years and didn't seem so miserable. Maybe he really did need the punishment to keep sane. Maybe even Hydra had known that.

A sting on his buttocks made him snap out of his line of thoughts and he was grateful for it. Another strike followed instantly, on his lower back. Too short and not painful enough for a whip, he thought. Too soft for a cane or riding crop. It must have been one of the floggers he had seen upstairs. Being bound and exposed like this, the humiliation was worse than the pain of it, but humiliation worked just as fine for his arousal.

Max continued to flog his back, and he sort of got into the rhythm of it, the warmth and the sting of it. He could stay here for a while, like this. Even the pain was comforting, in a way. It felt like no inch of his back was spared, and soon there was a faint burning, his skin firing impulses. He started sweating and his limbs were shaking, survival instinct mixed with the deep need submit to abuse.
He must have made a sound, because the stinging stopped and he felt a hand on his right shoulder, that felt strangely reassuring.

"Hey, kid, are you still okay there?"

"Peachy," he said, and the bitterness was audible even to him.

Max slapped his ass with his hand.

"You got quite a mouth on you, Fuckdoll. I'd stuff it again, but that would distract me from that fine arse."

Bucky tensed as he felt Max' thumb enter him. He cried out in surprise.

He needed this. No, he hated this. He wanted it out right now. No, he craved something bigger.

He whimpered as the thumb was withdrawn.

"Let's get that ass ready", Max said.

Bucky had expected spit or lube, but instead the flogger came down on his ass hard, making him flinch. There was another strike, and another, and Max was really putting his weight into it now.

"Hmm,yes, that ass will be so nice and red by the time I'm through."

As Max was hitting him, he could feel the flogger come down on his exposed hole a few times and that did really hurt. It made him clench and tighten, and he knew that was good, because it would burn when he'd be penetrated.

Bucky could feel the tears sting in his eyes, the lump in his throat. This was really it. He was going to let this stranger fuck him like he was a rentboy and then thank him for the trouble.

Finally the flogging stopped, and he could hear the sound of latex being pulled over flesh. He's mostly been used without a condom - they really enjoyed the cum seeping out of him - but he was grateful for it now. He didn't think he could get venereal diseases, but the idea of having to clean the semen out of his ass after he had orgasmed made his stomach turn.

He could hear Max' heavy breathing behind him.

"Please, Sir, I have a request," he managed, hating himself for it.

"What's that, Fuckdoll?"

He was slapped on his burning ass. He winced.

"Please fuck me dry, Sir. I need it to hurt." He barely got the words out. He hated begging for it. He dreaded the actual pain.But he'd gone so far now, he might as well. There was no more dignity left to lose.

"You're really quite something, Fuckdoll, you know that?"

"Thank you, Sir. I'll take that as a compliment, Sir."

After that he felt strong hands grabbing him from behind, holding him in place. Soon there was the all-too-familiar feeling of a cock poking at his entrance. That alone made his flogged asshole send pain signals to the rest of his body. The anticipation was killing him.

When Max finally forced his cock into him, it felt like being torn open, light burning turning to hellfire, taking over his whole body. He screamed, not holding back, letting the pain out, but also accepting it. Max took the request to heart, because he fucked to hurt, and didn't even give Bucky time to adjust before pulling out almost completely, then slamming back in. Bucky screamed again, but softer this time, biting his lip and trying to adjust to the pain. Max started fucking him with an unforgiving rhythm - long strokes going fast and deep, desecrating his most private of places.

He felt his bottom lip quiver and tears streaming down his face. Everything felt so raw - not just his ass or his back but all of it like his entire body was a giant wound and someone had pulled off the scab.

He pressed his wet cheek against the vaulting horse, letting out quiet sobs with each new thrust. This was his true defeat, and he had yielded to it, his body trained to know how.

The cock was like a weapon, being stabbed into him over and over, tearing into flesh and leaving him aching, his body wrecked and defiled, dirty and disgusting. And deep inside he could feel his arousal building, knowing that this treatment was exactly what would bring him to climax.

This was the terrible, ugly nature of his need. He wanted to beg for mercy, to be released from this, but he was stuck with this body with sickening muscle memory, with a brain rewired to get off on this. There was nowhere to run to. There was no mercy to be given. Bucky Barnes could run from Max, but not from the Soldier.

Re: Tainted Touch 3h/?

[(Anonymous)]

OKAY SO THIS IS REALLY TRULY THE LAST PART OF CHAPTER 3. And I'm redoing numbering for the AO3 version. Next part is Natasha's POV if you've been waiting desperately for that. Also I know it's hard to believe but I wrote some super sappy parts for later is the story.

Meanwhile, have some Pierce being a cruel bastard.


The Soldier jerked as something his hit stomach hard. His new handler, the one called so similarly to the other, the one who looked like somebody he used to know, was hitting his gut with an umbrella. It was not for punishment, he thought, he could not remember doing something wrong. Or perhaps it was his punishment for passing out. He had not received instructions about it. Sergei never did things to make him pass out. Alexei didn't mind as long as he got to use him, and sometimes he'd wake up with the taste of semen in his mouth or cum leaking out of his rectum, but there had been no retaliation for losing consciousness. It was never good to assume, though. This handler might be stricter. He should learn fast if he wanted to serve this handler well.

Each blow knocked the air out of him, but he remained in position on the desk. Handler Pierce was stronger than he looked. He had been told this was a good thing. Or at least from the pieces in his head he could remember. A strong, brutal handler meant more pain but more chance of survival. Order through pain. Survival through pain.

He was grateful his handler was training him so thoroughly.

The beating stopped suddenly, but before he could recover something smacked against his face, hard. His jaw was not broken, but he could feel blood pouring from his nose. He received an evenly hard blow on the other side of his face. More blood poured from his nostrils and his lip. His new handler was standing over him with a paperweight and grinned cruelly.

"Great obedience and great endurance," he said, "I gotta give you Russians that."

The blood poured into Bucky's mouth and he tried to swallow it down, the coppery taste of it mixing with the not-yet-washed-away saltiness of semen.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Sergei look on with an expression of disapproval.

Alexander Pierce moved to the other side of the desk.

"Spread," he ordered.

The Soldier obediently parted his legs.

"Tell me, Sergei - have you truly never used him like this? Even when he is so willing?"

"No", he replied, his accent thicker than usual. "I like women."

Alexander Pierce laughed as he grabbed The Soldiers ankles, and positioned his cock directly at The Soldier's entrance.

The Soldier looked straight at him, bloody and beaten, knowing the inevitable reality of what was in store for him.

"It's not about that," he said with amusement still audible in his voice. His words were meant for Sergei, but he was staring directly at The Soldier's face. The tip of his cock pressed menacingly against The Soldier's hole.

"I have a wife you see. A child on the way. This has nothing to do with it."

Pierce rammed fully into the Soldier with one hard, calculated stroke - forcing open part of him that had been left untouched for years.The Soldier screamed loudly, grown unaccustomed to this use and the pain that went with it.

"Sex is power," he grunted as he started fucking The Soldier."Sex is a weapon."

"If you say so," Sergei said.

"Just look at him," Pierce said, "he understands that."

The Soldier felt Pierce's eyes on him, looking for every sign of pain on his face, making sure to fuck harder when he could tell it was hurting.

"Tell me something, Soldier. Do you enjoy this?"

The Soldier wondered if it might be a trick question. It had been a trick question before. Still, he decided the risk of lying was greater.

"No, Sir," he managed as he winced from a particularly vicious thrust.

"Then why do you let me do this to you, Soldier? You're strong enough to stop me."

Another trick question, he thought. The dull ache in his gut and in his jaw, combined with the stabbing, recurring pain in his rectum made it hard to think. He tried to get it right.

"You are my Handler, Sir. You know what is best for me. It is not my place to question it."

It was apparently a good answer, because the handler grinned.

"Good boy. Very good boy.I'm going to enjoy working with you."

The Soldier felt his heart swell with pride. He had done well. The new handler was pleased. It was worth the pain.

Pierce looked over his shoulder.

"See, you have to remind them of their place every now and then. It's good for them."

"Do you understand why this is necessary, Soldier?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Very good. You are allowed to cry but you will stay like this until I finish."

"Understood, Sir."

Pierce deliberately drew it out, delaying his own orgasm in favor of fucking The Soldier until it became unbearable for him. He let his tears run freely, as he was allowed, and they mixed in with blood, sticking on his face and neck. He focused on an orange clock on the wall, looking away from the man who was executing this cruel form of discipline. The arm that counted the seconds ticked in time with the thrusts, and he tried to focus on that instead. Seconds became minutes, minutes multiplied, and there was no end to it. The pain was less sharp now, but it was unending, spreading over his whole body.

Finally - 22 minutes in, he counted - the pain made him shiver uncontrollably and he started to whimper pathetically.

"Do you want me to stop, Soldier?" Pierce grunted.

"Yes, Sir. Please, Sir."

A hard hand slapped his already sore face. He cried out.

"You do not get to decide that. Only I do."

Pierce pushed The Soldier's legs up, putting them on his shoulders. This angle allowed him to go even deeper and The Soldier thought this might be the point he'd break. He heard himself screaming like it was someone else - long, agonizing screams of a man being tortured.

Eventually even those subsided and he was left only with the rawness of his pain, unable to feel anything else.

Finally Alexander Pierce came inside him with a cry, and his ordeal stopped and he was filled with warm, sticky fluid.

Pierce pulled off him - a sweaty but smug-looking mess by now.

"Clean me with your mouth," he ordered.

The Soldier could barely move, but he shakily tried to get up, and dropped to his knees in front of Pierce.

He licked the cock and crotch in front of him. It was covered with cum, sweat, mucus and blood. He realized now that the warm wetness flowing out of him wasn't just semen.

"Get up," he was ordered as his unappetizing task was done.

He pushed himself up with all his might, finding support on the desk. Even then he could barely stand, legs shaky and uncooperative.

Alexander Pierce took something out of his drawer. It was a beautiful revolver, with inlays of mother of pearl and silver. He put the weapon in The Soldier's hand.

"Now," he ordered. "Put the gun to your old handler's head and undo the safety"

The Soldier saw the horror in Sergei's eyes as lifted the gun and pressed it against his temple. He could feel nothing. He was empty inside.

"NO!" Bucky Barnes screamed. "Stop! Stop it! Pierce! Pierce!"

Suddenly his hands were free, and he did not know how it came to be. When he looked around we was in a spacious bathroom. He had not seen the place before. He was naked and he was shivering. His throat was sore, his back stung, and his asshole burned, but his body seemed to be mostly intact.

Yes, he remembered what happened there. It wasn't Hydra...it was someone else. He had chosen this.

As he took stock of his body, he noticed blood on the knuckles of his right hand and he was filled with dread.

That was not his blood.

What had he done? What had he done and did not remember?

He burst into hysterical sobs and curled in on himself. If he had killed that man, he'd stay here until he'd starve or the cops would find him.

He wouldn't run.

If he was guilty of killing an innocent as Bucky Barnes, and not as The Soldier, he did not deserve to be saved.

Re: Tainted Touch 4a/?

[(Anonymous)]

Natasha did not expect any calls today, certainly not now, certainly not at this number. Only a select number of people had it - and the man at the other end was not one of them.

"I'm sorry to call at this hour, but I'm looking for a Natalia Romanova?"

"Speaking. How did you get this number?"

"From a card...look it's complicated."

"Get to the point."

"Do you know someone called James? Ex-military, prosthetic arm?"

Yeah, that was pretty unmistakable.

"We're friendly."

"Look, I don't know the story between you two, and frankly I don't want to know. but if you care about him at all, you should come over."

She sighed.

"Fine, what's the address?"

She noted down the info, and regretted it already.

---

As she was nearing the designated address, the view outside her Chevrolet's window changed, going from regular habitation blocks to the seedier part of town. She drove past a liquor store, a strip club or two and an adult movie rental (she was genuinely surprised those still existed), until she saw the letters in neon yellow spelling out the words "MAX' SEX EMPORIUM".

She didn't know what she had been expecting, but this wasn't really it. The sign on the door said "closed", despite another sign declaring that business hours were until midnight.

Her first instinct was to break in and go in unnoticed, exploring, but the voice on the other side of the telephone had given her no indication to think this was a trap. So she quite simply rang the doorbell, like an upstanding citizen. Steve would be proud, she thought.

Some shuffling could be heard, then lights were turned on, and the door creaked open.

"Come in", she heard.

Her eyes fell on the man before her, and from the voice she could tell it was the same person she had talked to before.

He was quite a bit taller than her, graying but handsome, but most importantly he was holding a piece of cloth in front of his face that was soaked with blood.

She considered for a moment to charm him, or to mother him even, but in an unknown situation offense was sometime the best defense. She stared at him with piercing eyes, and he stepped back, clearly not trusting her.

"What did you do to him?" she hissed.

"Nothing!" he exclaimed, him voice muffled by the cloth. "Nothing he didn't ask for, anyway. You should be asking what he did to me . He broke my damn nose."

"Where is he now?" she asked flatly.

"He locked himself in my bathroom. Been there for two hours now." He sighed and signaled with his hand to follow him as he shuffled down the stairs to the basement. While she wasn't easily surprised, her eyes widened a little as she saw the veritable dungeon that lay beneath, with contraptions and toys and torture devices.What the hell had Barnes gotten himself into?

"When you say 'nothing he didn't ask for'...?"

"It was consensual, I swear on my mother's grave, and Lord knows she's rolling in it now. It was consensual, he wanted it hard but he safeworded and I stopped, and then he just snapped anyway, and broke right through his restraints. I've never seen anyone do that. I mean, I knew he had some sort of trauma, but a lot of people use this stuff to work through things, and..." he waved with his free hand exasperatedly, still pressing the cloth to his face with the other. "He seemed fine, you know. Nice."

"He is," she said, and realize she genuinely believed that. "Maybe you should refrain from beating up soldiers with PTSD, Max. Just a suggestion. Might improve your general life quality".

"Yeah yeah, I know. I was thinking with my dick and it cost me. No need to rub it in." He motioned to a simple white door adjacent to the playroom. "Just get him out of my house, okay? I'll be upstairs, in case he decided there's more things he wants to break. Like my arms."

"Hey Max," she called out after him. He turned around. "Thanks for not calling the cops."

He shrugged. "What would I even tell them? I figured I'd not be doing either of us favors doing that." He made another frustrated gesture with his arm. "Just do whatever you need to do. His clothes are...somewhere around."

Natasha turned back to the door and gently knocked.

"Bucky?"

There was no reply but she hear a noise, like a sort whimper and something shifting.

"Bucky, it's Natasha. You know me. I'm here to take you home. You're safe now."

Still no reply.

"I'm going to come in now, okay? You're still safe."

The lock was easy enough to pick. It wasn't exactly made to keep in government secrets. The door opened with ease, and she stepped in slowly, careful not to startle him.

She wasn't quite prepared for the sight. Bucky Barnes was sitting on the floor between the toilet bowl and the shower, entirely naked. He was huddled in on himself, knees pulled up, and arms wrapped around his legs. The was blood on the knuckles of his right hand, presumably Max', but some of the white floor tile under him was stained red, too, and she realized he might actually be bleeding from his rectum. He was staring out in front of him, barely acknowledging her presence, and shaking all over.

She kneeled down in front of him carefully.

"Bucky, hey. Let's get out of this place."

Still no reaction.

"I'm going to put my hand on your arm, okay? You're not in danger."

As her hand touched his skin, he did not pull away, but he started trembling harder. He blinked suddenly and returned to himself, his gaze meeting hers.

"Have you come to punish me?" he asked, his voice sounding small.

"Bucky, no, I just want to take you home."

"Steve doesn't want to do it, does he? So they sent you," he continued as if he had not heard her.

She rubber her thumb over his forearm gently. "Nobody sent me. You're not being punished. Captain Rogers doesn't know we're here."

He just started shaking harder; his eyes those of a frightened child. "They're going to put me away, aren't they? Or wipe me again? I killed that man. I'm not to be trusted. Oh my God I killed that man. He didn't do...he didn't do anything. I'm sorry, I'm sosorrysorrsorry...."

He was rocking himself back and forth.

"Bucky, you didn't kill anyone."

"Ss-sss-sorrysorrry --so-so-sorry."

"Soldat! Posluchay menya!"

That made his stop in his tracks and look at her. Something changed in his eyes, like he was only now recognizing her.

"Natasha? Natashenka...pomogi mne, pomogi mne."

He moved suddenly, and she braced for an attack that never came. His arms wrapped around her, his naked body pressed against her own like his life depended on it. Slowly she returned the embrace. She could feel his body contracting gently but rhythmically, and she realized he was was quietly crying against her shoulder. She moved her hand to stroke his hair, and she could feel him lean into that touch desperately.She just wondered how long it had been since someone had just touched him - not to punish, not to fuck, but just one human being to another. That was something she could do for him. It was frighteningly simple, really. She held him like that until his grip on her loosened and the sobbing subsided.

Somewhere along the lines, self-conciousness must have crept up on him again, because as he pulled away he tried to cover himself. The metal hand moved to cover his crotch, the flesh one was trying to hide the scars on his left shoulder. He averted his eyes and looked to the ground.

"Dammit, Nat. My head's a mess. I'm so sorry you have to deal with this."

She took off her leather jacket and wrapped it around him. It would be too small for him to wear, but it fit over his shoulders just fine, covering the parts he was trying to hide from her. He relaxed visibly.

"Don't worry about it. I offered, remember? C'mon, let's get out of here. I think I even know where your pants are."

That, surprisingly, was even met with something resembling a smile.

Re: Tainted Touch 4b/?

[(Anonymous)]

(This is really short and I should be writing other stuff for my course but I wrote this anyway because it helped with stress and just wanted to post this).

A little while later she was standing with her back to him, giving him some privacy. Behind her, she could hear him curse under his breath, and she distinctly heard the sound of metal scraping against metal.

"You okay?" she asked while resisting the urge to look over her shoulder.

She heard nervous breathing. "My hand...my hands are shaking. Not sure if it's muscle fatigue or..." He swallowed the rest of that sentence. "Damn belt buckle."

"Need help with that?"

"You going to dress me now, Natasha?

"If that gets us out of here."

She heard more frustrated fumbling behind her, then an exasperated sigh.

Please.

When she turned he was mostly decent. He was trembling visibly, even from a distance, and it appeared he did not have control over his prosthetic than he had over his real arm in this state. She approached him, and he made no move to stop her. His expression was one of frustration mixed with shame.

"Okay, I'm just going to..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but he nodded, avoiding her eyes. They were standing close - too close - despite her trying to stay at literal arm distance. There was nothing there she had not seen before on a man, nothing she had not done, but it had never been quite like this. Most men wanted her to touch them - except of course those who very much didn't, those who cowered at her swift vengeance, of whatever it was she was dishing out. This was strangely...functional. She buttoned his pants and fastened his belt as he averted his eyes from her. His breath was still close enough to feel on her skin though, and it felt like a touch, unintended but very much present.

When she was done with her task she straightened his t-shirt. He looked surprisingly presentable given the circumstances. His hair was still a bit of a mess and she reached for it, but stopped mid-air when he flinched.

"Sorry, not touching. You might want to...ruffle your hair or something."

He did with his flesh-and-blood hand, and he flashed her a smile.She knew it was entirely possible it was training, that it was deliberate and had been taught to him to put people t ease. But she wanted to go along with it, and she didn't know why, but something deep inside her wanted that smile to be real.

"Better?" he asked.

"Gorgeous," she said with a deliberate grin. Another smile from him, and she was almost certain this one was real.

She noticed that her jacket was still on his shoulders, and so far, he made no move to remove it.

"C'mon, let's get out of here."

They made their way out the stairs and into the shop. She hear some noise upstairs, then saw Max coming down, looking at them with distrust.

She pulled out a roll of cash and put in on the counter. She kept things like that handy. You never knew when a bribe would be useful.

"This should cover the expenses to get that fixed," she said as she gestured at her own nose. "not that it will make you prettier."

She snagged a box of penis-shaped mints on her way out. "Oh, and I'm taking this."

The doorbell rang as they left, and no-one made any attempts to stop them. Behind them, the aggressive neon light of the shop looked faded as early dawn light started illuminating the streets. Soon, it would be nothing but a memory.

Re: Tainted Touch 4c/?

[(Anonymous)]

(In case anyone's still reading)


---

He was looking out of the passenger seat window, the play of early morning shadows illuminating and obscuring his face as she drove them back. His eyes were still puffy and red, his lips slightly swollen, and she could not tell if it was from the crying or the preceding rough treatment. Her jacket was still over his shoulders, and he was clutching it tightly, probably unaware he was doing so.

She had noticed he was handsome before, it wasn't hard to do so. But she caught herself taking in the outline of his profile and enjoying the view. She pushed the thought away immediately, reprimanding herself for eyeing Steve's raped best friend for his level of attractiveness. Steve had told her, on more than one occasion, how women would only have eyes for Barnes before the serum. He had done so in good nature, as a best friend would, affection shining through stronger than jealousy. Prior to Barnes' return, she had assumed that was the influence of nostalgia goggles, but the first time she had a conversation with him - the one where he was trying to apologize for shooting her in a strangely endearing way - she had realized Rogers had not been exaggerating.

The thought turned heavy, and she realized what that must have meant. Hydra would hurt and abused him either way - but the fact that he was attractive probably meant...regular use. Seventy years, even with the cryo - she didn't even want to try to do the math of how many and how often.

It occurred to her he had very young eyes for someone his age, with his experience. They were inquisitive and alert, even in their current state, and were taking in the world outside with interest.

"I still can't believe how much has changed, sometimes," he finally said. She didn't know if he was truly being nostalgic or if he was attempting small talk. Either way, it was probably a good sign.

She genuinely liked this - the little pieces of information people often offered. Yes, she had been taught to make strategic use of such information, but even when she did not, she enjoyed the these small insights into the human soul - tiny puzzle pieces she took joy in trying to put together when she had the time.

"I can't even begin to imagine."

"So many cars, so many lights, so many people. Everything...smells slightly different, sounds different even." There was a sad smile on him, then a sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm probably boring you."

She realized then that it ran deeper than just the sex. That underneath the charm and the apparent progress, he felt like a burden, like a nuisance. That he might barely be hanging on, and no-one noticed because he was trying so damn hard to seem fine.

"Are you kidding me?" she said with her best enthusiasm. "You should take me on a tour of Brooklyn sometime. I bet you know all the fun details of history. Rogers won't take me up on it."

"Yeah well, you'd probably make him blush for half of that tour."

She popped a penis mint into her mouth. "Nah.Twenty-five percent of the time. Tops."

That was the second time ever she made him laugh, and frankly that alone was worth the nightly excursion.

The relative calm of their car ride was interrupted by an insistent ringing that seemed to have no place there. It took her a second to realize it was Barnes' phone - with a ringtone sounding similar to old-time telephones, but with slightly more of an artificial echo to it.

"Speak of the devil," he said, and his mood seemed to have changed for the worse. That was unusual, because she had noticed that he usually seemed better around Rogers.

"We were going to jog together this morning, but I forgot. Dammit, I can't, not like this." He gestured at himself. "What the hell do I tell him?"

She pulled over, reflexes alert, and took the phone from Bucky before he could protest. She answered with a chipper voice: "Morning, Steve. Should have known you were the kind of guy who rings people before proper sunset."

"Natasha?" His voice was filled with surprise and worry. "Why are you on Bucky's phone? What's wrong with him?"

"Relax, Captain. Your pal is fine. Finally took me up on that offer to talk. Must have worn him out 'cause he's asleep on my couch now."

"Oh right. I was just worried because we were supposed to meet up."

"Yeah, I figured I'd better pick up the phone before you assemble a search a rescue team. Look, I'll tell him you called when he wakes."

"That's fine...it's not urgent. Thank you for talking to him, Nat. I think it will do him good."

"No problem. Hey, I'm going to hang up before I wake sleeping beauty here, okay?"

"See you later, Nat."

She turned back to Barnes and handed him back his phone. "There, all fixed."

He looked at the now-dark screen with doubt. "Yeah, except now I can't go home to clean up, or he'll know we lied."

"True...but I actually do own a couch. And a shower. If you'd like."

He looked at her, and it was his Winter Soldier look. Calm, collected, trying to gauge his opponent. ...very unlike the man who had been sitting next to her just a moment ago. "Why are you being this nice to me? All I ever did for you was shoot you and ruin your party."

That was a tough one, she thought. And maybe there wasn't really an answer to that, not a clear one. Barnes was a potential threat to the little status quo that her Avengers-family had going, and she'd hate to see it fall apart - if she could keep him stable enough not to be a liability, everyone would win. But that was too calculated, too rational, and she knew that she was fooling herself if she thought that to be her only motivator. Besides, she didn't know if Barnes would deal well with that explanation when he already felt like a burden. It also wasn't strictly true...she felt for Barnes. While their experiences were different, she did know a thing or two about brainwashing, and recently she had felt the annoying need to talk about it. Maybe when she had offered to lend an ear, it wasn't entirely altruistic. But that wasn't something she was ready to share. Maybe humor would get het off the hook.

"Oh, you know. I'm doing to do the whole 'be a better person' thing. It's an annoying phase, as you might know, but you'll just have to put up with it for now. Besides, I just lied to Captain America. I mean, either I do a good deed right now or I'll have party-crash a church and do twenty Hail Mary's, because there's probably special place in hell for people who lie to Steve Rogers."

And just like that, the Winter Soldier was gone, and it was all Bucky Barnes again.

"Well shit, he got to you, too."

She smirked and rolled her eyes - an acknowledgement, really. It wasn't even that it was entirely untrue, it was just that truths were rarely simple or singular, and there was another truth there: that it might not be Steve Rogers who got to her right now, but Bucky Barnes.

Re: Tainted Touch 4d/?

[(Anonymous)]

(It should get trashier again in the next chapters. I hope this is not too wordy but here goes)

The place was a bit out of the way and the rest of the Avengers did not know about it - or if they did, they had the good sense to leave her the privacy she craved. Like the others she had been offered a place to live by Tony Stark, and while she had accepted the apartment and made it her official residence...well, there wasn't really such a thing as an ex-spy. One single place to live would make her too easy to track down...too vulnerable. Fortunately she had a lawyer who was very good at setting her up with temporary residences. With any luck, he could even resell them with mild profit.

She pulled over, got out, and breathed in the chilly morning air. It was getting closer to winter, and the Earth seemed reluctant to soak up he sun's early rays.

She opened the passenger seat door for Barnes, feeling strangely protective of him. He took in the surrounding with the Asset's eyes.

"Should have known they wouldn't domesticate you," he noted.

"Yeah well, guilty as charged".

As the made their way to the front door, she could tell Barnes was hurt more than he let on, taking careful steps instead of his usual confident stride. She didn't remark on it, realizing that doing so would likely make his feel humiliated.

She fumbled with the keys and it was all so terribly mundane and low-tech compared to her life with the Avengers. This wasn't a place she often visited. In fact, she was thinking of selling it again, but right now it would serve its purpose.
The house was suited for a small family - or a couple who like their space. The furniture was at a bare minimum, and some rooms were simply disused, but the living room did indeed have a couch, a table with some chairs and a few computer screens with surveillance equipment. Unimaginative curtains could be used to obscure everything from outside view. Upstairs there were two bedrooms - but only one housed a single bed, the other was used for storage.

Barnes looked around the living room and there was the faintest hint of a grin on his face. "Love what you've done with the place," he commented.

"Hey, it's temporary, "she said as she waved her hand, presenting the space to him, "And I didn't lie about the couch. Hell, I'll let you have the bed if you're tired . Moy dom - tvoy dom. So, what do you need? Sleep? Shower?" She was being terribly casual about this, or rather wanted him to believe she was - fact was, this was the first time she brought one of the team to one of her safehouses and she didn't really know how to feel about that.

He finally took her jacket off his shoulders, folded it over his arm, then handed it back to her.

"I...I'd like to get clean. If that's okay." There was so much in those two sentences that she did not want to get into now, and she wondered if the sort of clean he was after could even be given by a shower,and if he expected people to give him permission for that, but she pushed both thoughts away.

"Of course."

She escorted him upstairs and showed him to the bathroom. It wasn't luxury, but it was functional, and acceptable to offer to a guest. There was a bathtub she could see him look at longingly.

"Bath works fine if you prefer. We're not in a hurry."

She grabbed some towels out of the cupboard and found herself wishing she had nicer ones - but at least they still smelled nice. He took them from her gratefully, and held them close to himself, as if he were hugging a pillow.

"Okay so, you do your thing. I think I might still have some clothes in case I ended up here with a male operative, so if I find those, I'll knock and leave them in front of the door. "Oh and..." she said as she rummaged thought the medicine cabinet, eventually finding the tube she was looking for,"...this stuff is great. It will help you heal faster and it's safe to use internally, should you need to." She said that as neutrally and casually as she could, realizing full well that most men were not too thrilled about having that particular conversation.

If he was embarrassed, he did not show it, and he matched her casualness when he took it from her.

"If there's places you can't reach, you can ask me, I don't mind" she added. She was wondering if that was a good idea, but if she was going to do this, she might as well do it properly. That did change something in his expression, something she couldn't quite read, something vulnerable behind the trained facade of a soldier.

She was turning to leave when he finally spoke.

"You know, you don't fool me, Romanova."

"That so?"

"You're secretly a nice person."

She shrugged. "Guess that happens when you start hanging with those pesky good guys."

With that, she left, and left him to his privacy. It did not take her long to find the spare clothes - just a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants. Both were stretchy enough to not need to be an exact size. She folded them neatly, knocked, and left them in front of the bathroom door as promised.

She was tired - the whole thing had left her sleep-deprived and more drained than she would have expected. Any attempts to sleep, even nap, were made impossible by the state of alertness she appeared to be in. She was constantly checking the bathroom for unexpected sounds...and a dreadful feeling crept up on her...what if he would consider hurting himself...or worse?

So she just stayed in the adjacent bedroom, curled up on the bed with a book, keeping her ears open. She could hear the water running a little too long, but that was to be expected. Her attempts at reading mostly failed. The book was actually a work on Steve Roger's life that she had purchased mostly for teasing Steve about any details she might find. But now, the words she read didn't quite make it to her head, and as she flipped the pages nervously, she found some of the illustrations. One picture, black-and-white, of Barnes and Rogers, stood out. Both were smiling like she hadn't seen either of them do in real life. She traced her fingers over it, and felt like it was almost a too-private moment for her to see, even if the picture was in the public domain. Her thoughts were cut short by something that sounded a lot like sobbing, and she considered knocking on the door, but decided against it. The sounds subsided about 15 minutes after that, followed by the sound of water running out of the bathtub. When she heard the hairdryer she felt a little relieved, and decided to go downstairs - in part to make breakfast, in part to not have him know she had been listening in.

She would not call herself a good cook - not bad either, but mostly just functional in terms of making things that got you through the day. There wasn't anything fresh here, though, so she did not have much to go on. She found a protein powder mix, and by the time Barnes came down the stairs she had whipped up something resembling two milkshakes. She wished she had something better, but at least if would give them energy.

He looked more relaxed as he stood in the doorway with clean clothes and freshly washed hair.

"Hope you like chocolate. Or you know, chocolate-inspired flavoring."

He drank it eagerly, and for a moment they just say at the table together, drinking the shakes, like it was a totally normal day. He slurped the last bits when he was almost done, and for some reason that amused her, maybe because it was so not how she had imagined Hydra's living weapon.

After he was finished, she could see him fumbling with something. It didn't take rocket science to realize it was the tube she had given him earlier.

"Some place you can't reach?"

He nodded meekly. "You did offer. You don't have to, though."

"Don't be silly." She got up and gestured to the couch, and he followed her without question. He sat down, facing away, pulling up the T-shirt a little. That showed angry red skin, presumably from one of Max' toys.

He took a deep breath. "I was...flogged. Some of it's on my back."

She undid the cap and squirted some of the cream in her hand. She held up the tee with her clean hand, and carefully rubbed it unto his skin. There was something of a sigh on his end, and at first she wanted to ask him if she was hurting him, but he leaned into her touch, and she realized it must have been more like sigh of relief - maybe the stuff really did feel good to him, or maybe some non-violent touching was doing him good. Asking would only make it more awkward.

She did not draw it out, but made sure she did a good job, treating the marks on his skins with care.

There was a question on her lips, a question that had been there since she first came to get him. She was pretty sure asking it was not a good idea, but she decided to ask regardless.

When he turned to thank her, he already noticed something was up. He searched her face with his eyes, trying to read her.

"There's something I've been wondering," she finally said.

"Shoot."

"You told me - and I quote - that you don't want a cock up your ass, yet here we are...so excuse me if I'm wondering what happened today."

"I didn't lie," he said, eyes candid and focused, and she could see that was the absolute truth. "I don't want it. In fact, I hate it. But I need it, do you understand? I tried to hold it off for months, but I'm only a man...I need the release. Hydra ruined me, you see...and I can't...it needs to feel like r....like ra..." His words failed him; she could see he could literally not get the word out. He bit his lower lip, as if physically trying to stop himself from speaking it. He shook his head and tears came out of his eyes. "I'm so sorry you have to deal with this. I know it's revolting." He swallowed and tried to compose himself, but she could tell he was nowhere near okay.

She was processing the information given to her, trying to detach it from emotion. She was trained to do this: think fast, consider possible solutions, come up with a plan. As unfortunate as Barnes' situation was, the solution that came to her was surprisingly simple.

"So...what if I provided you with what you needed?"

"Can't," he said. "That's sort of the point. I can't...look it doesn't work with women, as much as I'd like." His face was a world of sadness now, and he bowed his head as he spoke softly. "Not even with one as pretty as you. I need to be hurt, penetrated, humiliated. All the things Hydra did to me."

She wasn't quite ready to give up on the idea just yet, as crazy as it sounded."Okay, but there are toys, right? And a bit of acting? What if I could give that to you?"

She could tell he was thinking. The little cogs in his mind were turning at great speed. He was resisting the idea, she could tell, but she saw a little flicker in those eyes telling her he was considering the offer.

"You want to fuck me, Natasha? That what you're saying? Bend me over and tell me how much I need it? What a bad little Asset I've been?" The disdain in his voice was audible.

She shrugged. "I neither want to nor don't want to." That, at least was true. "Sex can be a tool,and I'm quite proficient at using it, even though I say so myself. At least with me, you'd be safe."

"That's disgusting."

That wasn't quite the answer she had expected, and maybe she had gotten it all wrong - she could give him sex if he needed, but she was no therapist - she was too damn messed up for that herself. She knew when to abort a failed mission. "Well you sure know how to make a girl feel wanted, Barnes. I'm flattered. Forget I mentioned anything."

She stretched out her hand and offered it to him. "Friends, then? No hard feelings?"

He looked at her hand but did not take it. He was forcing himself to look at her, trying to hold his composure with every fiber of his being. He was a mess, possibly on the verge of breaking down. She saw anger mixed with sadness and desperation, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. "I didn't mean you. I'm disgusting. Me. And what you're offering...God Natasha, how can you even consider that? How would you even do that without throwing up?" He swallowed and looked away. "I could never ask a girl to do that. It's not right."

That last bit made her more determined. "Barnes...listen to me. Say no if you hate the idea, but don't refuse a good deal because of goddamn misplaced chivalry.Trust me, I've seen or done it before."

He was quiet for longer than was comfortable, and did not meet her eyes. She knew in that moment he was not refusing her for lack of wanting.

She crouched down next to him, trying to read his facial expressions. "Hey it's worth the shot, right? We can stop if we both hate it," she added.

"Why?" he finally asked.

She took a deep breath. "Because frankly I like being an Avenger and it endangers us all if you put yourself in unsafe situations. One of these days it's going to backfire and I know you're smart enough to know I'm right. You have a problem I can fix, it's as simple as that, and we both get to be on a team we really want to be on."

"So what, you're taking one for the team?" he asked.

"If that's how you choose to see it."

"I do like the idea of being safe," he admitted, barely audible.

"Well, think about it," she said - and then, trying on a sterner, commanding voice. "Should you choose to accept, I will set up a room. Before you come to me, I expect you to brush your teeth, shower, trim your pubic hair and have an anal douche. I will give you a collar and you will kneel before me naked. Then we can talk about what a bad little Asset you've been and how I'll punish you."

She could hear something that sounded like a held back whimper, and the gritting of teeth.

"That's humiliating," he hissed.

"I know. But that's sort of the point, isn't it?"

He looked up at her, anger and defiance in those blue eyes. He grabbed her hand and placed it on his crotch. She could feel the hardness there, pushing against her palm. "Congratulations, Natasha. Hope you're happy now."

"Well I guess we don't need to worry about that, then".

He was almost coming apart now - face red, breathing rapid, eyes red with tears. He looked like he was about ready to jump her and put a knife on her throat, and instinctively she already braced herself for that to actually happen. Instead, he just let go of her hand, and let himself slouch in resignation. "You realize, by the time we're through, I might just grow to hate you?" he said instead.

She sighed. Honestly, she did not like that idea. Not at all. She should not let it get to her, but those words stung more than they should. She wanted to do this for him, but she also caught herself thinking of wanting this man as a friend - though she realized both might not be possible, and he needed something a friend could not give him.

"I'm pretty sure there's a line from here to Russia populated with people who hate me, Barnes," she said with as much aloofness as she could muster, "I'm sure I'll live."

He never actually told her he'd take her up on her offer - but by the time she dropped him off at his place not much later, she already knew he'd be calling her soon.

Tainted Touch 5a/? (a.k.a. Bucky's broken dick, Natasha strapon version.)

[(Anonymous)]

I guess I'm going to warn for anal douching, but it's not graphic. As for the rest, some dehumanization and good old-fashioned rape.

---

Bucky was leaning against the shower wall, slightly bent over. He inserted the nozzle into his rectum, and squeezed the warm water inside. He had been doing this for two weeks now, keeping himself immaculately clean, diligently having made this part of his morning routine. It made him half-hard every time, the humiliation mixed with the feeling of being penetrated - but it didn't hurt, at least. It felt strange, though, and it made him hyper-aware of his ass being a penetrable hole, which he supposed was part of the intended result.
Sometimes, not always, there was something in his head that felt like it clicked...pieces of conditioning, or memories that would not quite surface. There was a strange calm to those moments, like his body did already know the way, like his decision to submit to this had always been an inevitability. There were other times he wanted it out of him so badly, times when it got mixed in with memories of his handlers calling him filthy, cleaning him out before fucking him, then berating him once more as he was sticky with sweat and blood and semen.Sadly, today was one of those days.

"Holy fuck, that's disgusting."

The Soldier didn't know this particular man, but Rumlow had ordered to please everyone who wanted it until further notice. Twelve men had come to his cell that day alread and used him as they saw fit. Twelve times he had drawn tally marks on the wall, knowing he'd forget by the next time they'd wipe him, that someone would clean the wall or he'd be moved by then, but it felt somehow important to keep count anyway.

"Are you sure you even sure you want to fuck him? He's filthy," a second voice said, and the Soldier added two more stripes to the wall. Perhaps it was premature, but really, none of them ever said no to a free fuck.

"Hang on. I need to fetch something. You hose him down in the mean time".

The man yanked his hair and pulled him to his feet roughly. The Soldier could barely stand. His legs felt wobbly and the place between his buttock burned like fire. The fire spread inside as he tried to walk, and he felt something warm and wet run down his thighs.

The man took him outside, to a a courtyard of sorts. The Soldier didn't recognize this place, didn't remember ever being here, but then again he forgot times and places. It was sunny. The seasons must have turned to summer without him noticing, too. His eyes tried to adjust to the light

"Stay," the man said, and The Soldier was pushed to his knees.

He had long stopped trying to memorize all of their faces, remember their names, or try to plead and appeal to their humanity. They had none. Or perhaps, it was him who wasn't human anymore, and that was why they were treating him as a thing.

For a few brief few moments he actually enjoyed the feeling of being outside - the wind in his hair and the sun on his skin. Then, without warning, his body was hit by a hard beam of water that knocked him off balance. But he'd been told to stay, so he tried as much as he could.

The water was cold on his body, and hit him with bruising force, but he sort of welcomed getting clean.

"All fours," the man ordered, and he did.

He was hosed down from other angles now, but at least in this position it was easier to hold his balance.

"That's better. Now hold your ass open for me."

He whimpered. He wanted to say no, but he knew there was no point. It would happen anyway, and some of them actually hurt him more when he struggled, refused or showed pain. He bent his head down and spread his ass-cheeks with his hands. That movement alone was painful. As the cold beam of water hit him there, and he tried to balance himself, he could now stop himself from screaming out loudly, the pain being too much for him to bear.

Finally the water stopped, and he could hear laughter behind him. The first man had returned.

"I leave you alone for five minutes and you already have him in tears."

"Hey, I literally didn't even touch him." More laughter followed.

The first man moved to stand next to him and swatted his ass.

"Nice day for a lil' outdoor fucking, don't you think, Soldier?"

"Yes, Sir," the Soldier replied, knowing there was no point in resistance.

"We're going to get you nice and tight, so you feel good for me. You want to be good for me, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir," he said again, already knowing this would be unpleasant.

The second man came to stand with them, and offered him a ball of cloth.

"Here, bite down on this," he offered.

The Soldier clamped down his teeth on it. Maybe if he didn't scream too loudly, they might make it quick. At the very least, it would make sure he'd keep his tongue. Tongues were nice. At least he though he remembered the were. He couldn't be sure, but he though he had kissed someone once, with tongue. That was long ago, when his mouth still belonged to him. When he was allowed to want. It had felt nice, kissing. The soldiers who fucked him, never kissed him. He was glad for it. Maybe one day, a long time from now, he could do that again with someone. Yeah, he definitely wanted to keep his tongue.

He could recognize the sizzling sound of the stun baton and his body started to shake even before it ever touched him. When it did, the pain was excruciating. The water conducted the electricity all over his skin and he spasmed and it burned, and he thought he was really going to die this time. When the blunt tip forced its way into his ass, he screamed through the makeshift gag, and it still sounded terribly loud to his ears.

The man pushed it in and out a few more times, turning the power on and off, until screams were replaced by desperate sobs, and his body went limp and pliant under the abuse.

"See that's a trick I learned from some of the older guys," the man said to the other. "If you're like the tenth in line, you can make him tighter again with these things. Works like a charm."

The Soldier was shaking uncontrollably as the gag was removed from his mouth. His breathing was erratic and he struggled to get all the oxygen he could. He didn't get long, because the gag was almost instantly replaced with a hard cock. A hand grabbed his hair roughly, and pulled him all the way down on it. When a dick was rammed up his ass, he couldn't scream, because he was being stuffed down to the throat. His ass felt like it was being torn open by a dagger, every thrust more painful than the previous. He focused on keeping his mouth stretched open despite the pain, because he did not want to know the consequences for biting down.

It took long, so very long. The guy who was fucking him took his time, and made every thrust hard and deliberate, until he was close to coming, at which point it going even worse. He held the Soldier's hips in a vise-grip, and fucked into him brutally and erratically, until he came with a scream.

"Holy fuck, that's a good ass," he panted as he drew out of the Soldier.

The guy in his mouth hadn't yet come, despite the talented ministrations of the Soldier's tongue. The Soldier supposed he was intentionally holding off, because as soon as the other guy came, the cock was pulled out of his mouth, and something forced itself into his ass again.

"Shit, you're right, man. He's still tight after taking you."

It didn't take so long this time. Just a couple of painful minutes of penetration, some grunting and swearing, and the Soldier could feel another sticky load being dumped in his ass.

"Pity's he's in cryo so much. I'd like to ride him more often."

"Well, a little birdy told he's got two more missions this month. That's something to look forward to".

He was pulled to his feet again, and then brought him back to his cell, being half dragged and half carried, not able to really walk anymore. He fell asleep from sheer exhaustion but soon - too soon - he could hear his cell doors opening again.

"Aw guys, really? Can't you fucking clean it after using it?"

The Soldier pushed himself up with the little strength he still had left, and added another tally mark to the wall. This one wouldn't say no, either, despite how dirty he was. He'd be here for another month. Better get used to it.

In the shower, Bucky Barnes was rock-hard and shivering. He turned on the water and it was blissfully warm, making even the shivering subside in a few minutes. He thought about masturbating but that would make him feel unclean again, and he didn't feel like doing this all over again.

Getting out of the shower, he didn't completely hate what he saw in the mirror. It occurred to him it has been a while since he felt that way. He still hated the left shoulder and all that went with it, but objectively, he knew didn't look awful. He still kept his hair longer, but he had trimmed his pubic hair as requested, and he'd also gotten rid off the scruff on his face, and all in all he felt like he was almost presentable to be seen by a beautiful woman. Not that that really mattered anymore, in that sense. But if she was going to see him, and touch him, whatever her reasons, he wanted to minimize any unpleasantness for her.

He hadn't told her yet, that was the funny thing. The decision had been made, but telling her would make him unable to back down and that frightened him. But then, every time he thought about that twinge of fear, he felt a stirring in his pants.

In the mean time he had done his research. The internet offered some visual imagery of how such a thing would even work. He found leather-clad beauties sporting large rubber dongs that they used on their male "victims". His mother, he was sure, was rolling in her grave for him even looking at this. It was educational, though, to say the least. Some of the toys looked even more uncomfortable that a real cock - and that had some potential. Uncomfortable he could work with.

The thing he feared the most is that it wouldn't work at all. That she could fuck him and abuse him, and that his own dick would remain stubbornly unresponsive, that he'd prove useless even in this regard. He wanted to try, though, so very badly. He believed her when she said he'd be safe. Someone like Natasha would know a lot about pain, and about how far you could push a person before damaging them. He absolutely believed that she could have him sobbing on the floor if she wanted to, but he'd still be physically well enough to fight an hour later. When he thought about her touching him, it was part fear part excitement, or maybe those were two sides of the same coin.

If he needed this abuse, then he might as well make it as comfortable as possible. She was good at what she did, she was a teammate who seemed to have his best interest at heart, and she was easy on the eyes. Really, that was much more than he could ever asked for.

It took him another hour to actually work up the courage to call her. When he did, she answered the phone almost instantly, and greeted in him cheerfully.

"So...I made a decision. If the offer still stands."

"Of course it still stands. A promise is a promise. I'll arrange it, and let you know when."

And that, pretty much, was it. The fear and excitement in his gut only grew stronger after that - but really, it felt like the excitement was winning.

Re: Tainted Touch 5b/?

[(Anonymous)]

"You know, Nastasha, when you said I owed you a favor this is not the way I thought you'd collect on it."

The man went by the name of Grzegorz, and she did not particularly like him, but as far as reformed low-lifes went, he was actually pretty decent. His main business used to be stolen cars, and he had workshops where he repainted them. Nowadays he had gone "legit", or mostly anyway, and ran a second-hand car dealership. He even had a cheesy commercial on local TV and everything.

He had hired her once, back in his shady days, because his daughter had been kidnapped. Guess that came with the territory. In that sense, she was glad her kid being taken for ransom would never have to be a worry for her.

Either way, she did not take kindly to big men who negotiated through little girls. So she took him out with extreme prejudice, for a fraction of he usual fee and a yet-to-be-determined favor in the future.

Which is why it was that right now she was looking out over the derelict hangar, that had once house luxury stolen cars, but had now fallen into disuse.

"I'm surprised how you even know it's here," Grzegorz added.

"I have my ways."

They took an industrial elevator that let them one floor underground, a place that had once been a hidden storage room...and torture chamber.

"I swear this isn't mine. It came pre-installed and frankly, I didn't feel the need to ask what it was used for."

She believed him. Despite his many faults, Grzegorz did not enjoy torturing people, nor had he ever been that level of criminal to have a need for it. He just had a tendency to gather unfortunate associates.

"You can use it as long as the building still stands, but please, I do not want any trouble."

"There won't be."

"For the sake of my daughter, I hope you are not lying."

Well, he sure knew where her buttons were. Smarter, more powerful men had failed at that, but Grzegorz knew at least one weakness.

He handed her the keys to the building, and left. She heard the whir of the elevator as he left without her.

The room was not exactly in mint condition. It smelled of dampness and it most certainly needed to be cleaned, but it had potential. Whoever had left it originally, did not care to take everything with them as they left. The center of the room still had something resembling an arm chair, that sported restraints for both arms and legs. They could not hold the Winter Soldier, she was sure, but wasn't that meant to be symbolic anyway? She realized she would be winging it. It had not been a lie, when she had told Bucky she'd done these things before - but she knew it would be different with a supersoldier. She had also omitted the fact that she had mostly done it with men who were her targets in one way or another - not necessarily to kill, but to extract information, to gain access - a means to an end.

In the past, her goal had been to make the sexual interaction useful to her, and no matter how she would twist and turn it, or tell herself that this was to keep the Avengers safe, in practice this would be about him . Even if he said he'd hate her, she still had to be able to look him in the eye after, make sure he was safe and got what he needed.

She inspected the room. A quick turn of the faucet taught her that there was running water, even though it came out wheezing reluctantly. There was something of bathroom adjacent to the main room, though it was more like a cell to hose someone down. She wasn't thrilled about this arrangement, but she had decided she couldn't do this with other Avengers around, not did she want to compromise an of her safehouses in case...what, he screamed? Bolted? Trashed the place?

Someone had actually left equipment - pliers, devices to administer electric shock, bone saws even. She made a mental not to get rid of those, she didn't think she'd want to go into that particular memory of his right off the bat.

There were chains attached to one of the walls - more ways to keep a person immobile. Another wall had Four full-length mirrors which, although stained by now, would have given the victim full view of what was happening to them. Maybe a nose or an ear being cut off, she thought, and they would have to face their own deformity on display. Yes, she could certainly imagine a breed of sadist that would enjoy that.

Almost reluctantly, she hovered near the mirror. She saw nothing but herself, but today she felt like a stranger looking at her own reflection. Who was the woman standing before her? Did she even know? Did anyone know?

"Anna, that is not a grand écart! Your legs need to be stretched out, girl. Stop bending your knee!"

Teacher brought down her cane against the blonde girl's leg, and she winced, but tried to comply the order. Natasha held her breath as Teacher approached. She could see in the mirror her pose was near perfect, but Teacher could always find fault if she chose to.

"Well done, Natasha," Teacher said as she hovered over her, and Natasha could hear herself releasing a breath.

There were seven of them in this room. They had been divided roughly by age that they - the younger and older girls getting training elsewhere.

"Agility is important," Teacher said to the room. "We teach you ballet because it's a bit like fighting. You need speed, and grace, and control. Ballet, battle, espionage - all of it is a dance. Some dances take longer than others, but in the end, you simply need to know the right moves."

Teacher clapped her hands to signal the end of the exercise. Natasha got up from the floor, and saw her peers do the same.

"Today is a special lesson," Teacher said. "Come stand in front of the mirror, all of you."

They all looked at their reflections, seven girls with Slavic faces, dressed in in plain black leotards, looking back at themselves with a mixture of fear and determination.

"You are all 14 or 15 now. You are becoming women. What you see in the mirror is your most important weapon - not guns, not knives, not anything else we will tech you to use here."

Natasha looked at her own reflection, finding those words hard to believe. She looked awkward to herself, limbs a little too long, hair unruly, face still round with baby fat. She was one among the best in training, she knew, but certainly not the prettiest in her opinion.

"Some men will want you for your innocence", Teacher continued. "Some will want your for your beauty. Some will want you because you're dangerous. Some will want you to be their childhood sweetheart, their lover, their friend, their whore, their mother. If you live long enough, their grandmother even, or their teacher. It will be your goal to identify how they wish to see you. What they need from you. Their need is their weakness, and you will exploit it. Do you understand?

"Yes, Ma'am," seven voices said in perfect unison.

"Natasha," Teacher said. The cane was tapped gentle against her chin - a way to get her full attention, but also a warning. "Why don't you show us how you would charm a gentleman."

Natasha could feel herself tremble as she gazed at her own reflection. It wasn't visible, but she knew it was there. She put on her best smile and curtsied, as she cast down her eyed and tucked her hair behind her ear with one hand. Then she looked back up through with wide eyes, batting her eyelashes twice - subtle enough not to be obvious, but enough to draw attention to herself. "Hello, Sir," she said with a thick American accent and a honey-sweet voice that didn't sound like it should belong to her. "So very nice to meet you." She turned as if to lead the non-existing man somewhere, showing the newly developed curves of her buttocks to the mirror, looking over her shoulder invitingly. "Would you like me to show you around?"

Teacher clapped her hands. "Very good, Natasha. I can tell you will go far."

Natasha snapped back out of her reverie, coming back to herself. She grimaced and turned from the mirror, not liking the sight of herself right now.

Identify how they wish to see you, she thought to herself. But it occurred to her she had no idea how Barnes wished to see her. She wasn't even sure what he needed. He said he needed a rough fucking, but for all she knew that was actually terrible for his recovery.

Her thoughts were cut short by the piercing ring of her cellphone. She was surprised she even had coverage here. It was Barnes' name on the screen. Damn, that boy had interesting timing. She picked up, slightly annoyed, but she found that the moment he spoke, she actually liked hearing his voice.

"Hey Natasha, am I disturbing you?"

"No...just thinking of creative ways to torture you, actually."

There was a brief silence.

"That's...kind of you, I guess. I'm sorry, this is coming out wrong. I wanted to talk to you about that, actually."

"Not getting cold feet are you?"

"Is that a hint you're planning to dunk me in icewater?"

Now she was the one to be briefly silent.

"Relax, that was a joke."

She breathed a sigh of relief. Good.. He was able to joke about it, at least. Though she was sure that was one huge defense mechanism.

"Careful, dear, you might give me ideas."

"Yeah, that's the thing. Maybe we should talk, you know. About ideas. Before I'm naked on your floor?"

He had a point, of course. She had meaning to have that talk to him, but she'd been putting it off. She knew this would be tricky. How would she even define consent with someone who really had no choice? How would they separate who they were as people, as teammates, from what they were about to do?

"Alright, good. Are you free tonight?"

"I'm always free, Natasha. It's not that I have an overwhelming social life."

"Okay, let's have dinner. My treat, okay?"

"Romanoff, are you trying to woo me before you bend me over?"

"Don't you wish, Barnes. Be ready at 7."

"Aye Aye, Ma'am".

Dammit, she thought. He was nice. He was nice and he was funny, and that would make all this so much harder.

Re: Tainted Touch (author's request)

[(Anonymous)]

I seem to recall there being people who speak Russian here - anyone willing to help me with a few lines? Maybe 5 sentences at worst?

Re: Tainted Touch 5c/?

[(Anonymous)]

I don't know what this story is anymore ;)

Thanks to Russian!anon for the help. Hope it looks like it should!

This has gotten so big, and it might deviate from the original prompt a bit (though I'll try to keep it in check) - if OP is still reading, hope that's okay. Split in two with part (d because size, but they're supposed to be one chapter thematically.


---

He had tormented himself over how to prepare for this. He had told Steve that he was taking up Natasha on her offer to talk , which he felt sort of bad about, but functionally it was a good lie. One of those lies that had enough truth in them for people not to be suspicious.

He had looked up more about this BDSM thing online, things about safewords and safe, sane and consensual - but there was a lot of stuff that seemed to contradict itself, too.

When he read about fantasies or real-life accounts - which felt almost like prying, even though they were posted in public - what struck him was that the submissive party was so often really into it. He didn't quite get that - these people had a choice, why would they choose it? But he was hardly in a place to judge anyone. He figured the experience would be different for him, but the rules would be functional enough.

He showered, trimmed as requested, and cleaned himself out by command. It still got him hard every time, and he still hated it, though he supposed it would have its purpose from now on.

He wasn't quite sure what one should wear to these occasions. He dismissed a few options as either too formal or too casual, until he settled on new dark blue jeans and a red henley with a leather jacket. He put on gloves, not to draw any attention, and decided this would have to do. This 21st century fashion thing was still confusing for him. He had cared about how he looked when going out a great deal, before the war, but those rules no longer applied in this world. He'd be overdressed and would stand out. Then as the Soldier, he only wore what he was told, which was mostly functional. He was genuinely baffled by what passed as presentable nowadays, and had no idea what one would wear to the date - but he took comfort in the fact this actually wasn't one.

It would be...a negotiation of sorts, he figured. Which was good. He never was able to negotiate this before, he just had to submit to it.

He tried to practice it in the mirror - telling her the things he needed. They never came out right, and his words sounded both silly and vulgar to him when he actually tried - so instead he took a piece of paper and wrote it down.


-anal and oral penetration (preferably without preparation)
-verbal humiliation (calling me names and telling me I want it)
-physical pain (anywhere, but better if in erogenous zones)
-choking and/or depriving oxygen
-making me cry
-forced orgasms (or denying orgasms)
-making me obey you
-treating me as an object
-taking your pleasure regardless of my comfort.

He was sure there were a few more, but that would keep her occupied for a while. He folded the paper and slipped it in his inner pocket, making sure no prying eyes could see it.

She arrived at 7 p.m. sharp, dressed in black and armed with a smile. He recognized the jacket as the one he'd kept wrapped around him just a few weeks prior.

"Are you ready to do this, James Buchanan Barnes?" she asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied.

He was no car outside, and instead she walked him over to a motorcycle. He wondered if this was a test, to see how he'd react, or if she just felt like taking the damn thing instead of a car.

"I like it," he said.

She smirked, and that might have been smugness on her face. "Thought you might."

She hopped on, and he climbed behind her.

"Hold on tight," she said, that that was a relief, her giving him the explicit permission to touch her, because he never knew how that was with handlers. He knew she wasn't quite a handler, that he should not call her that lest he'd unsettle her - but for practicality's sake, it was useful for him to think in those terms. He locked his arms around her waist, and clung to her as she raced across town.

He rather loved the freedom of motorcycles, and he was always happy when people would let him have stolen touches, even if unaware. This was good. This was a good beginning.

The place was slightly out of town, and hardly looked like a restaurant from the outside. The inside was warm and crowded, with several loud conversations going on at once. There was was an older, corpulent man with a white mustache that matched his unruly hair standing at the counter, conversing with a blonde waitress. He wore a black vest over a white shirt that had food stains on the right sleeve, but he seemed to pay it no mind. When he spotted them, a smile formed on his face and he ran up to them.

"Natasha, darling, so good to see you! It has been too long."

"You know I had to come back sooner or later, Ivan, I missed your cooking."

The man laughed jovially, then sized up Bucky. "And who is this then - business or pleasure? Он твой парень или очередной твой приятель-киллер?"

""два в одном," Natasha replied with her best smile, and Bucky could feel himself blush, especially as some of the quests seemed to have overheard.

"You are still quite something, my dear! So, one of the upstairs tables then?"

"If you'd be so kind."

They were led upstairs where it was less crowded and noisy. There were 8 tables, but they were all located in something of an alcove, giving each table privacy from the other. No other tables were taken, though, and they seemed to have the upstairs room to themselves. It was a pleasant setting - a gingham red-and white tablecloth adorned the table, and the white walls of the alcove were decorated with with little square mosaics here and there.

"You get settled. I'll be back back in a while," Ivan said cheerfully.

He leaned to Natasha and half-whispered "Он красавец", but Bucky could still hear, and this time he turned a deeper shade or red.

Ivan left, and Bucky fumbled with the menu.

"I take it he doesn't know I understand Russian."

She grinned. "Probably not."

"He thinks we're sleeping together, you know."

"Of course he does. Is that so bad? There's several men downstairs who are now very jealous of you. Trust me, I saw them look."

He didn't quite know how to react to that, but he felt a little pride well up inside. Maybe even if it couldn't be, he liked to pretend - he liked the idea of at least looking desirable, looking like he was enough to please her.

She must have known what he was thinking, because she added: "Enjoy your victories, Barnes - however small - lord knows you didn't have enough of them. Besides, if tonight goes well, we sort of will be sleeping together, now won't we?".

Yeah, that was still strange to think about. It wouldn't be regular sex, and it wouldn't be a relationship but she was right. In the broad sense of the word, they would be sleeping together - engaging in sexual activity at least. There was really nothing about his upbringing that could have prepared him for this. There was nothing about his Hydra training that did, either, now that he thought of it. They'd have to figure this out from scratch.

There was a part of him that really liked the idea, but another wondered if it would be worse with a beautiful woman. The good news was that he wouldn't have to let strange men put their hands on him anymore. The bad news was that like this he would be reminded of all the things he couldn't have anymore every time he would be with her.

"You don't mind, then? People knowing, that is." he finally asked.

"Well, I'd cautiously suggest not to tell the other Avengers, not until we actually know how it works out, at least."

He nodded. Yeah, it was one thing to humor him in front of faceless, nameless strangers who didn't know the details of their arrangement. Having their friends know the savory details...well, he could see why she wouldn't want that any more than he did.

He reached in his pocket and scraped his throat. He handed the folded paper to Natasha.

"I...made a list. Maybe it's helpful."

She looked at the paper and he couldn't quite read her face.

"They're the things that are likely to arouse me," he said as calmly as he could. "Most of them are not strictly necessary, but I will need some combination of pain and sex for it to work."

"Hmm, and safewords - just the classic green, orange, red?"

"I have no negative connotations to those words, so I guess. Though I might reach a point where I'm unable to use them. For the sake of honesty."

"Good to know," she said, while still studying his list, and he still couldn't guess what she was thinking. It could be annoyance, but it might as well be sarcasm.

They were startled by footsteps. It was Ivan coming up with two plates. He sat them down in from of him and Natasha. "Enjoy, children! This is the one with extra beer in the sauce. House special!"

Natasha's mouth corners looked like they were fighting a smile as she tried to quickly fold the paper again with a slight of hand.

There was a twitch in his pants, and he wasn't quite sure why, but he figured it was the idea of getting caught. He could feel his face flush and his blood run cold at the same time.

"Call me if you need anything else," Ivan added as he took off again.

She looked at him in a strange way - thinking, calculating, like a predator contemplating to pounce.

"So goulash by default then?" he asked to relieve the tension.

"Trust me, it's the only thing worth having."

"What's the story here anyway?"

"Ivan here was a physicist who defected in the cold war. He used to cook up chemical weapons, now he's retired and cooks goulash. Life is funny that way. I made sure he can do so peacefully."

He thought that would have diverted her attention, but she was barely done talking or he felt her foot settle on his crotch. He gasped in surprise.

"Hmm, getting caught is not enough for an erection then, but enough to get the little guy to notice," she said casually as she stuffed some food in her mouth. Her calling it little guy sent another jolt of arousal through him. He was perplexed and felt his face flushing again, but he made no attempt to stop her.

Re: Tainted Touch 5d/?

[(Anonymous)]

"Eat," she ordered, and he obeyed. She made no attempts to remove her foot.

The taste of goulash reminded him of Russia, of winter, of him being hungry and begging for food.

The smell was permeating his nose. It was the only edible thing for miles, and it was simmering on the simple fire Alexei had made. He was sitting on his knees, awaiting orders. He had not eaten for two days and he was ready to beg for it. Alexei saw him looking and laughed. He kicked him like a dog. The Soldier had his breath knocked out of him, but he resisted the urge to double over.

"You want to eat?" Alexei asked. The Soldier nodded.

Alexei unbuttoned his pants straight in front of the Soldier's line of vision. He then proceeded to slap his semi-flacid cock on the Soldier's face until it was hard.

"You'll have to eat my load first. Then we'll see about the goulash."

The Soldier was hungry. Really, there was no choice. He opened his mouth, and it was instantly stuffed with Alexei's erection. At least it felt warm.

He heard fingers snapping, and he was drawn back to reality. He could feel he was now half-hard under Natasha's foot, and he looked at her pitifully.

"You get those often?" she asked.

"Yes."There was no point in denying.

"And you get hard when you remember them raping you?"

The question struck him like a lightning bolt, and his half-erection swelled still. He cast his eyes down in shame and nodded. Now she knew his little secret. How fucked up he really was.

She didn't look appalled, though, not as much as he expected her to - but then again she was good at hiding her emotions. She looked pensive, if anything.

"Okay," she said, "okay I need to be careful with that, but it can work to our advantage."

He was breathing heavily, mind clouded by the memory and his growing arousal.

"So where's the list of things I shouldn't do?" she asked as she pressed harder against his cock.

"There isn't one," he panted. "You can do anything."

"Anything?" she asked. "Anything at all?"

That, too, aroused him. The idea of being owned so thoroughly, so completely. She could fuck him with a knife, chop off another limb, flay his skin off - in this moment of arousal he didn't care. He'd obey her. He'd adore her like a Goddess.

"I trust you," he managed. "I trust you not to cause too much damage, Natasha."

That predatory look on her face returned. "Hmmm, it's cute how you say Natasha. But you should call me Mistress when we play."

"Yes, Mistress," he said instantly, instinctively, before he could even decide he wanted it.

A small part of his brain still had control, and he tried to express one last wish before he knew he'd let her take over. It was intoxicating and familiar, yet new and exiting, too.

"Please, if I may beg...don't call me Bucky when...not when we do this."

She removed her foot, and moved to sit next to him. The empty spot on his crotch was replaced by her hand.

"Okay...James then - is James acceptable?"

"Yes, Mistress."

He could feel her breath hot on his ear as she whispered into it.

"Tell me James, have you been keeping clean as I requested?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Say it out loud."

"Yes, I have been cleaning my rectum as you instructed, Mistress." He was fully erect now, and his skin felt on fire. He felt compelled to tell her the truth like this, even if it was humiliating. "I have been doing it for weeks now. I wanted to be good for you."

She ran her fingers over his erection, her lips still close to his ear. He was lost now, too caught up in this moment to refuse her. She really could do anything.

"Hmm, you really are a little slut, aren't you? Just thinking of getting that hole of yours stuffed gets you hard."

The words hurt, but also made his cock leak, and he whimpered pathetically as she continued to stroke him.

"You know what I'm going to do, James?"

He shook his head.

"I'm going to bend you over right here, right now, and there's nothing you can do to stop me".

That was it. Something in his brain must have short-circuited, but he got right to that spot where he needed to be, where he craved to submit, where he knew his body would take over. He didn't even know how he ended up bent over the table, what was left of the food pushed to the side, with his pants pulled down.

She swatted his ass and laughed. "Nice trim, sweetheat" He felt both humiliation and pride, but he tried not to think of it, he focused on letting instinct take over. She moved behind him, and could hear the sound of a latex glove being pulled on. It filled him with fear and anticipation. What followed was the near-obscene sound of her sucking her latex-clad fingers. How he wished he could see her now, but his wishes were irrelevant now. When she stopped, he could feel her other hand come over his mouth.

"No screaming, or we'll get company.I know you can take it."

Then without warning, she forced her finger inside his ass, and he shivered, but kept silent as instructed. She removed her hand from his mouth, and the part of him that was Bucky came to the realization what was happening.

"Oh my God," he breathed, "you're inside me.

It sounded so stupid and obvious, but it was also so hot to hear himself say it, no matter if he was Bucky or James or the Soldier, he wanted to memorize that first she claimed his body as hers.

"Natasha" he said - knowing he shouldn't - and moved his hand to her wrist. He wrapped his fingers around the smooth skin there, holding her in place. She stopped lmoving, but did not pull away. When he had reached for her, it was to push her away, but now that he could, he stopped himself.

"Bucky , easy" She stroked his back, coaxing him into arching it.

"Don't fight it. Let me do this for you. It's okay. I'm going to give you what you need."

He held her wrist in place for a few more moments, then gently squeezed it it acknowledgement, before letting it go in surrender. "Thank you, Mistress."

She pulled his hair and pushed deeper into him. He went pliant under her touch, and spread his legs a little more. When she forced in a second finger, he bit his lip, and grabbed onto the table, making one side creak where metal fingers dug into wood.

He hadn't used any of his toys since her offer. His hole was incredibly tight, as it always was when he let his body rest for a few days. He had wanted it to be, for her. Just two fingers were enough to give him pain, which was exactly what he had hoped for. She moved in and out of him, and his cock was impossibly hard, reacting to pain and humiliation as it always did.

"So very tight you are," she said, "I'm going to enjoy breaking you in."

He whimpered desperately, grinding against her.

Then, as unexpectedly as they had come, her fingers were gone. His body mourned the loss of them, but it was not his place to complain. She swatted his ass again. He wanted to protest, but he did not have the words nor the resolve.

"Pull you pants back up," she ordered, and he did, though it was a bit awkward as he was still erect.

She tossed the glove aside and sat back down. She poked what was rest of her goulash with her fork, then stuffed a few more pieces in her mouth, like if nothing ever happened. He just kept standing there, wrecked by emotions and sensations, until she ordered him to sit.

"Well that works," he said mostly to herself. Then, to him: "You're not to masturbate until our next session. I want to try few things out. I want you tight, and I want you horny. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good, now finish your food."

He did not particularly care to after all that happened, but not a hair on his head considered refusing her. The simple act of eating did seem to bring him down a bit, though, and when he was done he pulled his arms to his chest, crossing them protectively. He felt her eyes on her - curious, observing.

"Are you okay, Barnes?"

He nodded. "Yeah, pretty sure the FDA wouldn't approve - but yeah."

She smiled and it was big and seemed genuine. He tried to smile back, still feeling vulnerable.

"This is probably the point where I should warn that that owning my ass mean you have to put up with my terrible sense of humor, he added.

Her smile turned into a chuckle.

"Alright, so you do get back to yourself reasonably quickly. Good."

He wanted to tell her it wasn't that simple, that himself was a faceted thing, and that he was as much the Soldier as the man who was hiding his vulnerability by jokes - but he did not want to tell her anything that might change her decision.

She took a deep breath. "Okay. I can live with this. Looks like we're sleeping together, then."

"You're crazy, you know that? And that's coming from the brainwashed guy."

"Good thing we're equally matched, then."

She pulled out her wallet, left a generous tip on the table and led him down by his arm. He let het, still somewhat pliant. She said her goodbyes to Ivan, who dramatically made a point of her leaving so soon and without having drinks with him.

When Bucky was sitting behind her on the motorcycle, he could still feel her fingers inside him. He was half-hard against her, but if she felt it, she did not comment or scold him for it. He realized that for him, there was no more turning back now. He was doing this, and he hoped she'd keep him as safe as he promised - because he might no longer have the ability to stop her if she didn't.

He wondered if their next session would be soon, because he wasn't sure his erection would subside at any time before she fucked his brains out.

Re: Tainted Touch 6a/? (a.k.a. Bucky's broken dick, Natasha strapon version.)

[(Anonymous)]

I still don't know what I'm doing, and this chapter turned out more narrative than trashy, though I promise it goes full trash mode again in the next chapters.

---

It was the sort of dreary day that most people use as an excuse to stay in. The rest of the team had decided to do some R&R together. They never found it strange if she did not participate, and she had not been part of the decision making process for activities, but Natasha decided she could at least attempt to show her face. Rogers, apparently, was doing "movie night" except that movie night started at 2 p.m. already. Steve had finally decided to see Star Wars, and Tony had suggested they'd make it a marathon, and that was it.

Sam was showing tacky 80's trailers on Youtube as "previews" and she was only half watching that, decrypting potentially interesting intel on her tablet instead. Nobody commented on it, and she sort of liked this, to sit here lazily with her friends, doing not much at all. Next to her, Wanda was sitting leisurely, genuinely enjoying the trailers, sometimes commenting on how bad the were. Vision was on Wanda's other side - still looking rather strange in civilian clothes - cocking his head at most of the things on screen, as if it was the most bizarre thing he had yet come across. Steve was sitting on the other far end of the 4-seater, sporting the sort of amazed smile a 5-year-old would have.

Tony an Rhodes had a two-seater on the side, and Tony brought a huge bucket of popcorn, and commented on how they really should redo the original trilogy in 3D, which earned him an angry glare from Sam, who had the other 2-seater all for himself, and was sprawled over it completely. Clint said he couldn't make it, something about a road trip with his family, and she understood - but she did miss him.

Barnes was suspiciously absent. She was aware that things between him and Stark were tense, but as far as she knew, he was invited as long as Steve was there, too.
She already decided she would not ponder on it when he walked in, just barely after the beginning credits of the actual movie started rolling.

So, he did want to participate. He probably just wanted to avoid the awkwardness of pleasantries that came before.

He entered quietly, like an assassin would, and she was the first to notice him entering, which gave her a few moments to try and read him. He actually looked quite good - clean shaven, with freshly washed hair. He was wearing a blue jacket, blue jeans and a black shirt. She noticed that, unlike Steve, he always wore his shirts a little too large, and she wondered if that was on purpose, if he was deliberately hiding himself from prying eyes.

He seemed to be holding it together on the surface, but the black circles under his eyes told a different story.

"Hey, nice you could make it," she said. That made Steve look and damn, his face lit up like a sunrise on a summer morning.

"Bucky, you came."

Barnes smiled, too, but it was sad and tired - though he was trying very much to be pleasant, she could tell. And maybe this was enough, maybe this was what it really was all about: these little slivers of happiness, however fleeting - they were worth fighting for. If not, then all the killing aliens and bad guys didn't matter one bit.

Sam scooted over somewhat reluctantly to make room for him, but Bucky politely declined, and sat down on the floor, close to Steve's feet.

"Are you sure that's comfortable?" Steve asked.

Bucky just nodded, and leaned against the couch. She wondered if he was even aware what he was doing, expressing this mix of independence and still feeling the need to heel, to have a handler, to be told what to do.

Her eyes crossed with Wilson and she knew he realized too, and they just looked at eachother in silent acknowledgement.

Barnes must have noticed a tension, because he looked at her, drawing himself more into that too-large shirt, crossing his arm protectively, but still trying to smile at her.

She leaned over, looking away from her tablet.

"You'll love this. Steve told me you like futuristic stuff, right?"

"Used to, long ago. Thanks for having me here."

Even Tony made a sort of hand-wavy motion after that, signifying he was okay with Barnes' presence here.

Bucky seemed more at ease after that, and about a fourth into the film she could see he had really gotten into it. For a short, precious time, all of it was gone - the Winter Soldier programming, the desperate need for guilty pleasure. He even laughed a few times - genuine and heartfelt -and looked on with eyes full of wonder.

For a moment that stung. This was what she'd be taking away from him, this person slowly returning to being comfortable in his own skin again. And in exchange he'd get - what? A few seconds of sad release? The smile he had on his face now would never be for her, never for what they did.

After the first movie ended, she went to the kitchen to get some drinks. When she turned from the fridge, Sam was standing behind her. He was getting better at this stealth thing.

"You saw that,too, right? I'm not imagining things?"

She took a deep breath. "You're not."

"Should we be worried?"

"I don't think he's a threat, if that's what you mean."

"Steve said you're talking to him. I'm guessing it's not exactly approved therapy?"

She gritted her teeth.She really did not want to have this conversation right now and she sort of resented Rogers for passing the info on. Sure,he meant well, but this level of busybodying annoyed her.

She took hold of Sam's arm and pulled him close, making sure no-one else could hear. "It's not. But it might help. And for crying out loud, tell Rogers to stop telling everyone and their Mom. I know he has good intentions, but Barnes is an adult".

"Hey, wait, did you just imply I'm Team Mom?"

"Sam...I'm serious."

He held up his hands as if in supplication. "Okay...just, let us know if we need to know."

"Can't promise you that, either, Sam. You could try asking him, you know.

Sam looked at her, almost suspiciously. "When did you get so protective of other people's secrets?"

"Since he trusts me, apparently." She sighed. "Might not be the brightest match in the box, that boy."

It was Steve who walked in on that. "Gossiping about me, Nat?"

"Sure am. I was just telling Sam here how you're oblivious to all the girls who like you."

Barnes, as expected, was not far behind. "It's comforting to know that some things never change, at least." He was teasing, obviously, and patted Steve on the shoulder affectionately. He looked at her with a sort of weary resignation and forced a smile.

Steve took a beer. She didn't know why he even bothered. It's not like he got drunk from the stuff, and American ale was hardly worth it for the taste, as far as she was concerned. still, he and Sam took a six-pack back to the living room and she was left alone with Barnes.

"Thought you might have called me by now," he said after a few moment of pause. There was something about his demeanor that reminded her of a teenage boy being turned down by a potential prom date. Not that she had much experience with that part of American culture, mind you.

"I will. Just wanted to get some things ready. Why, can't wait to get into my pants?"

He shuffled and hung his head a bit; not quite the reaction she expected. "It's just...I get anxious not knowing when. It might help me to know, so I can focus on other things. Steve's even talking about maybe letting me try and be on the team. So, if you'd be so kind? Please?

He was looking around nervously, worried that someone might have overheard them - but she was quite sure everyone was out of earshot.

The look on his face was downright miserable, and the last please sounded more like begging than as a request. Dammit, he really was going to hate this, wasn't he? Even if it was her and not a stranger in a torture dungeon.

She took a deep breath. "Look, I'm only just figuring this out myself. I'm sorry that I made it harder for you, but you need to tell me these things".

"There is nothing to be sorry about. It is your prerogative as my ha...my Mistress. I am asking a favor. It will beg for it properly if it pleases you. Would you like me to get on my knees?"

For a moment she thought he might kneel down right here and right now, but to his credit he never seemed to forget there were others there. This was a mess, though. They hadn't even properly started and already if was getting out of hand. She had chosen not to be overly controlling, not wanting their arrangement to affect the rest of his life - but in letting him be free, she had caused him more distress.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," she finally said, "Today, we're just going to hang out here. Be sociable. Or try, at least. You don't have to worry".

It truly looked like a heavy weight was lifted off his shoulder immediately - his body released tension, shoulders slouching, face relaxed.

"Thank you, " he said like it was something she was responsible for.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but she saw him cutting off a train of thought in his mind.

"Steve's happy," he said instead, and there was a gentleness to his voice now, almost wistful, that had not been there before.

"How about you?"

"I liked the movie,"he replied while avoiding her eyes. "Everyone's nice," he added.

That obviously wasn't an actual answer to her question, and they both knew it.

She considered an idea, and almost as quickly as it came up, she decided for it. She took a small black book from her pocket. It was a good old-fashioned calendar. Some days were marked with an X, accompanied by initials or codes for people and places. It would probably not make sense to anyone but her, unless they really tried to crack it. She opened it on this week's page and handed it to Barnes. He looked at it curiously.

"Never figured you to be the low-tech kind."

"Those are the appointments not even the Avengers know about. Can't hack a notebook. They can try to pry it from my dead body, but they'll have to work for that."

Her words made him change his grip on it. He was touching it reverently now, like she had just handed him some country's crown jewels.

"This is precious to you. Why are you giving me this?"

"Pick a free date," she instructed as she handed him a pen. He still looked like he was not quite sure about this. To be honest, neither was she. At this point, she didn't know if trying to give him more control was making it better or worse, but she needed to at least have the illusion of his free will, for her own conscience if nothing else.

"I'm not sure I understand," he stammered.

"You choose when we do what we do. That way you know the time and place, and you don't need to be anxious."

He looked like he was about to cry. "But...I don't get to choose. That's not how it works."

"It's how it works now."

He held the pen in his flesh-and-blood hand. He moved it closer to the paper, then looked up at her for permission. "To...tomorrow? Is that okay?"

"If it says it's free, it's free."

He scribbled something down, then handed the book back to her. The letters J.B.B. were written on tomorrow's date in neat cursive.

"I'd just like to get it over with," he said. If she had ever been under the illusion it would not be so bad for him, she was now cured of it.

"You don't have to, you know. You could still change you mind."

"You could," he replied. "I don't have that luxury".

She wanted to say something, but Steve peeked in then, announcing they were ready for the second film. Barnes did seem more relaxed now, and when Sam started passing around chips, he even leaned in and offered the bowl to her.

It went well for a while, and she went back to absent-mindedly doing some work, while alternating watching pieces of the film and observing her friends' reactions to it.

Then the film got towards its ending, and it hit her mere seconds before what that actually entailed . She wanted to say something, but it was like watching an accident in slow motion, and how the hell did none of them realize before?

The moment Darth Vader's lightsaber swung to cut off Luke's hand, she could hear a sharp intake of air, and she saw Bucky visibly flinch as his own hand flung to his shoulder. He must have jerked against Steve's leg, because Steve's expression was instantly that of worry.

"I'm sorry, I need a moment," Bucky managed as he all but fled into the adjacent room.

"Really, guys?" Steve said. "One of you could have told me". He was throwing accusing glances at Sam and Tony particularly, and the latter just shrugged.

Natasha scraped her throat. "Steve." She got up and put her hand on his arm. "We forget sometimes. We try." She motioned to the door with her head. "Go after him. Give him a hug, or whatever you guys do." Steve looked like he was about to protest, but then disappeared after Bucky.

This...this was not her part to play, but if she could steer people in the right direction...

She remained in front of the paused TV screen, sharing an awkward silence with the others.

"Is he okay?" Wanda asked with a small voice, but no-one really replied her, Sam just sort of shook his head."Who even knows?"

Barnes re-emerged maybe 15 minutes later, eyes red and expression guilty. "I'm sorry for ruining movie night," he said. It was one of those things that was awkward for everyone - really there was no need for apologies, but nobody really knew what to do or say. Rogers had his hand on Barnes' shoulder, and that did seem to ground him, but all in all the evening wasn't really going to be salvaged.

"Hey, you know, three movies is more than is good for my attention span anyway," she ended up saying. "Say what, next time we do movie night at my place. I pick the film." Tony made a sound of protest, but she threw him a stern glance, before returning her attention to Barnes. "I'm putting you and Steve in charge of snacks." That made him smile, at least.

She took her leave not long after; she was never much one for awkward situations. Might as well get some things ready for tomorrow, if she wasn't doing any social bonding.

She hadn't even reached her car yet before she felt her phone stir. The message was from Barnes, and it simply read "THANK YOU", not even specifying why or for what, but she could live with that. Maybe if she tried, she could get this right.

Re: Tainted Touch 6b/?

[(Anonymous)]

Okay, this is sort of an intermezzo that exploded from an idea I had for Cinnamon, which in turn comes from Agent Carter.

Ehm, warning for (non-sexual) but nonetheless awful things happening to underage girls

---

Natasha slouched down in the torture chair and sighed. She felt sweaty and tired, and not at all confident anymore in what she was about to do. She thought about how Bucky's face had lit up at the sight of spaceships on screen,how he smiled when he forgot to be sad, and even how he cried, more gently than one would expect of a man of his stature. The feeling that maybe what they were going to do was wrong, was constantly nagging at the back of her mind. She was no psychologist. This could do more harm than good. But she made a promise, and breaking it might lead him to seek out desperate solutions.

She thought about him on that bathroom floor, huddled in on himself, not knowing who he even was. No, she couldn't know all that and let him be used by strangers. At least like this she'd know no-one was going to slit his throat and bury him in their backyard.

She took to cutting her nails. It was likely it wouldn't even be necessary, but if she was going to be - as he had put it - inside him, that would prevent any damage she didn't plan for. Remembering the way he had said that sent shivers down her spine and she didn't even know why.

The funny thing was he'd probably let her shove anything in, long nails and all. She needed to be the responsible one here. As she cut her nails to an acceptable length, memories crowded her mind.

"Please, you have to help me."

Anna's expression was bordering on hysteria and she was nervously looking around if no-one could be eavesdropping. She cornered Natasha in the toilets, standing between her and the door. Natasha thought about all the ways she could punch Anna to the floor and walk out. Two - maximum three moves, she thought. But she had no quarrel with the girl.

"We're supposed to do it ourselves," she hissed.

"I know! I tried but I...I can't. Please, I don't want to disappear like Yelena did."

"You don't know it was because of that," Natasha said, hushing her voice.

"You don't know it wasn't."

Anna held up her hands. The pinky and the ring finger on her left hand looked bloody and painful, both missing their nail. The other nails were still present, though the one on her middle finger looked chipped and had blood under it.

Natasha sighed. All of her own fingertips were covered in bloody band-aids. They had been given 48 hours. She had been the first to succeed at the task.

"If I do this, you owe me a favor."

Anna nodded feverishly. Two favors. Three. Anything you ask."

Natasha sighed. She took out her own pliers, still safely in her pocket. If Teacher was going to give her tools, she would not be stupid nough to lose them.

"You need to be quiet."

"I don't know if I can."

"Then you need to make yourself quiet. Take off your shirt."

For a moment the girl looked terrified, but she obeyed. She was still wearing an undershirt, but it was enough to make her shiver in the Russian winter, even if they were inside. Natasha made the shirt into a makeshift gag.

"Open your mouth," she ordered. Anna did, terrified, and had the shirt shoved in. After that, Natasha worked quickly. She did not want to get caught. She placed the pliers on the already-chipped nail and pulled. It came out with reluctance. Anna screamed a muffled scream against her gag. Natasha didn't stop. She quickly moved to the next finger. That one took two tugs to get it loose, and she could feel Anna shaking as she got to the thumb. That made catching the nail between the pliers harder, but she managed soon enough, and tore the thumbnail loose.

There was a significant amount of blood, and it dripped on the old tiled floor. She wanted to take Anna's other hand, but the girl desperately shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

"Look, if we stop now, I'll have risked this for nothing. You'll have suffered for nothing."

She pulled Anna's other arm towards her, and while she still felt a resistance, the girl wasn't actively fighting her anymore. She tried to work quickly, pinky first, but Anna collapsed to her feet as it was pulled out.

"Get yourself together", Natasha hissed. "Regardless of what happened to Yelena, you'll never survive like this."

Natasha did not bother to help her up, she merely pulled out the two next nails, but by this time Anna was sobbing frantically, and she pulled her arm against her belly, dirtying her undershirt with blood.

She spit out the gag. "No more. No more, please."

Natasha was having none of it. She didn't just risk disobeying their handlers just to fail at the endeavor. She pinned Ann down, and pulled out the last two nails. As she was removing the last one, Anna made loud noise even through the gag. Natasha's heart sank as she heard movement in the hallway. She dropped the pliers, and ducked into one of the stalls. She knew this one hair a ventilation shaft with an loose vent. She pulled it open and ducked into it, hoping she was quick enough for the noise not to be heard.

She heard Teacher's footsteps as she came in, and tried to hold her breath.

"Anna," Teacher said, "what are u doing here, girl?"

"I'm sorry,"Anna whimpered. "I did not mean to scream. It was hard for me, but I'll do better next time."

"You do that," Teacher's stern voice sounded, "you were the last to complete the task this time around."

"I'm sorry,"Anna whimpered.

"Don't be sorry, be better."

Natasha could hear the scraping noise of the pliers being picked up by Teacher. Dammit, she thought. Now she'd lose a perfectly good tool because of someone else's stupidity.

She heard Anna leave with Teacher, still sobbing quietly. She waited a long time - maybe an hour or so - to come out of hiding. At least she didn't get caught, but that favor better be worth it.

Natasha snapped back to reality, and looked at her nails with mild disdain. No-one would ever know that they had once been torn off just by looking at them - but she did, she could still picture it. Long or short, painted or natural, she could still tell how they were slightly different than before.

No point in dwelling on it now, though. She was only stalling, letting her own memories scare her, and that would not do anyone good.

Re: Tainted Touch 6c/?

[(Anonymous)]

Also know as "Bucky's oral and anal trauma". Okay, just kidding, but I finally wrote the sex scene, and I hope it's adequately awful. An mistakes are my own. It's split in two for character length, but 6c and 6d are the same chapter.

----

She texted him with a time and place the next day, and his heart was beating in his chest uncontrollably at least five hours prior.

He had already cleaned himself out once that morning, but he did so again before leaving, just to be sure. Steve was actually not thrilled about letting him go on his own, he knew, but he wanted Bucky to build up some autonomy, so he actually let him borrow his motorbike.

When he arrived at the old warehouse, his legs were shaking under him, knowing that what would follow would not be pleasant. It reminded him of some of the places where he'd been kept - stored, even, like property - because that's what he had been.

He followed the instruction, making his way down in the elevator, and every heartbeat felt unbearable now. He found himself before a closed door, and he remembered what she had said before, so he stripped himself naked, folded his clothes neatly and left them on the floor. He placed his boots next to them. He debated if he should leave his hair tied, but figured naked was naked, and he did not want to incite her wrath, so he pulled it loose. This would be unpleasant enough without added punishment.

He knocked on the door, and pushed his arms behind his back, metal wrist held in his palm. His handlers had always wanted him to look non-threatening. Even if she was not really a handler, it was probably a good call.

The door opened, and he bowed down his head, awaiting instructions.

"Come in, James," she said, and he stepped forward. He dropped to his knees, legs apart like his handlers had liked it, head still bowed. He could hear her take a sharp intake of air, and wondered it that meant he was being good or bad.


When he looked up he saw she had chosen to wear her black catsuit, and had a stray thought about really liking her hair, but he pushed it away, it felt inappropriate to think like that about his Mistress. She has on gloves and was holding a bamboo cane, and he felt it brush over his cheek, then move under his chin. He knew it would be painful if she chose to beat him with it.

If she were anyone else, he might make a defiant remark now, a joke maybe - but this was a service, this was a kindness, he would not disrespect her.

"Stay like this", she ordered.

She crouched down next to him, and he was thinking this was wrong, she should not stoop to his level. She moved his hair to the side, tucking it behind his ear. It felt gentle for a moment, and he closed his eyes, letting it happen. It was small and meaningless and she probably didn't even think about it, but maybe that was enough to carry him through this.
Soon he realized what she was doing. He had been too caught up in the moment to notice before, but there was a black collar tucked behind her belt, and she carefully fastened it around his neck. Her fingers touched his skin a few times as she did so, and that was nice, he could enjoy it without feeling guilty. He did not look at her as she fastened the strap, he did not know if he was allowed. Soon - too soon - she was done, and he dared to breathe again. The collar was tight, but not too much so, he could still breathe perfectly well. She was being generous.

"Thank you, Mistress," he said.

She patted him on the head in a way that would be patronizing in most situations, but it made him feel like he did well. That was always an advantage in these situations.

"Come," she said and she nudged him with the cane. He had not been ordered to stand again, so he crawled after her, to where she was pointing. There was a bench next to one of the mirrors, and it had a collection of maybe 20 dildoes on it, arranged carefully in a row, going from small in size and girth, to intimidating, to absolutely terrifying.

"Choose one you could accommodate comfortably," she ordered.

The question was harder that she realized. In truth, he could accommodate none comfortably. His body closed up quickly when there wasn't any regular fucking, and even her fingers had been a little painful, before. In the back of his mind there was a part of him, the part that remembered playing on Brooklyn streets, that hated any penetration and wanted to punch anyone who even dared to suggest it.

Her bamboo cane came down on his buttocks, not hard enough to actually be truly painful, but enough to get his attention.

"Choose, or I will choose for you."

He started to shake. He did not want her to pick one of the larger ones - even though he needed the pain, those might leave him bleeding for hours after, and he did not want to deal with that after this was done. He had bled for days on some occasions, after parties where he'd been use as release for the men. But then, he did not want to lie to her, either. The consequences for that could be far graver.

"Please," he stammered, "clarify orders, Mistress."

He braced for another stroke that never came.

"Which part it unclear, James?"

"Define 'accommodate comfortably'."

"Are you saying none are comfortable, James?"

"Correct, Mistress."

"Get on all fours."

He did and felt her move behind him.

"Spread wider", she ordered, and he obeyed, precariously keeping his balance.

He felt her pulling apart his ass-cheeks and he felt exposed and humiliated. He had taken the opportunity to look once there, with a mirror. His asshole did not quite look...normal. It was surrounded by a myriad of scars where he had been torn open, healed by the serum, the re-torn again. He knew that she could see it now that she was looking there, the evidence of a thousand or more cocks entering him there, and the idea made him have to fight back tears. She would see and she would know. He braced for an ugly remark that never came: Well would you look at that, our boy here has been put to good use before. Let's not keep him waiting.
The memory made his cock twitch, but he tried to push it away all the same, at the same moment that her thumb pushed in.

"Ah!" he cried out, part surprise and part pain. She swatted his ass and he could feel himself clench around her.

"Good boy," she said. "I feel how tight you are. You've been obedient and have not been playing with yourself, hm?". He was getting rapidly,shamefully hard. A deep, visceral part of him wanted to be obedient. Wanted to be good for her.

"Of course, Mistress."

She pulled out of him, and he had equal instinct to tell her to get away from him, and to beg her to please put it back in.

"Pick one that will hurt as much as necessary, but not more than needed."

That was an order he could work with. He crawled back to where the dildoes were aligned, and he picked the 5th from the smaller end. It was still generous, and he hoped she would not punish him for not picking something larger, but she did specify. He held it up, offering to her with his head bowed.

"Very well," she said. "Come with me." She slowly walked to the intimidating-looking chair in the middle of the room. He crawled along, staying next to her leg. When they arrived she yanked his hair and pulled his head up. She held the back of the dildo - the suction cup- near his mouth.

"Make it wet."

He licked it as well as he could, while her fingers were still curled in his hair. He glanced up at her, trying to find approval in her eyes, but he couldn't read her. When she deemed he was done, she pulled it away, and stuck the suction cup to the chair, making the dildo stand upright and hard in the middle of it. He knew where this was going.

"Kneel before it," she commanded, and he did.

She felt him push something in his hand. It felt like a small bottle.

"Lubricate it was much as necessary," she said.

He looked at the bottle in his hand, but then put it neatly back on the ground without opening it, looking back up at her. Her look was questioning.

"This is as much as is necessary, Mistress." Then he bowed his head again, both in shame and in fear of overstepping his boundaries.

He swore he could hear something of a sigh. Did he displease her? "Very well then. I wish to see you suck it."

That he could do. He remained kneeling, but pulled himself up on the armrest, aware of rattling the chains there. He took the dildo in his mouth and slacked open his jaw, letting it slide in. He bobbed his head up and down, taking it with skill and ease. He was hard against his own belly, and he was grateful for that. She knew how to give him what he needed.

She grabbed him by the hair again, and forcefully pushed him all the way down in it, making him deep-throat the toy. He had bigger, but pushed down like this it still had him struggling for air and it brought tears to his eyes.

"I knew you could do better , James."

She pulled him off, leaving him gasping for air, then almost instantly pushed him down again.

Good. Don't fight it.

She repeated this for several minutes, but it felt longer, until the lack of air made him giddy and the violation of it left him a horny mess. When she pulled him off the last time, he collapsed on the floor, face flushed and breath ragged, panting like a whore wanting more. The cane came down on his thigh and he flinched.

"Get up," she told him. He barely could, but he tried.

"Now sit on it."

Re: Tainted Touch 6d/?

[(Anonymous)]

He knew that this was coming, but he dreaded it all the same. This would hurt. This would show her the true nature of his depravity. But ultimately, it's what he came for. He positioned himself above the dildo, and felt its head poke at his rectum. If he lowered himself on it now, he'd be impaled on it.

"Look at me," she ordered and he wanted to beg no, please, don't look at me, don't watch my shame, but she had every right to watch, every right to order this. Her hand came up under his chin, more gentle than he had expected, and forced his face up.

He still could not read her. Most handlers were amused when they did things like this. Or lustful. Or both. Her face looked mostly neutral, maybe with a hint of concentration. Perhaps he did not please her. Perhaps he was not capable of pleasing a woman, as he had suspected.

He dug his fingers into the armrests of the chair, and slowly lowered himself, never breaking eye contact, not disobeying her order . The first intrusion burned, and he heard himself make a pathetic wounded noise as the head tore into him. After that, it was a bit easier, but every inch going down felt like violation, filling him up to serve his shameful needs. By the time it was fully in, he felt tears on his face, and she was still looking, and maybe that was more unbearable than the pain in his ass. He felt that his body was shaking, and he was sweating. He had to look like an ugly, dirty mess to her.

Her hand moved away from his chin, and he wanted to protest the loss, bt it was not his place, and he did not blame her for not wanting to touch him.

The cane struck his inner thigh and that made him twitch, losing control, and the dildo slid deeper still. This was it, this was as deep as it could go. It felt even harder than a real cock, and just as intrusive.

"Up and down, James, you know the drill. I want to see you fuck yourself."

This was a different torture altogether. He had to do this to himself. He had to show her what a slut he really was for it.

"Yes, Mistress," he said, but he heard his own voice breaking. Pathetic, he thought.

His leg muscles were strained from holding his weight, and he was grateful for the arm rests, but gravity was not in his favor here. He started moving up and down, the last few inches down always being hardest, most painful, but he could do this. He'd done far worse. He could taste his own tears now, and he reprimanded himself for going so soft lately, since he was free. The Soldier could take fifty cocks in one night. The Soldier could have a baseball bat shoved up there without lubrication and say thank you, and he was whimpering about taking a moderately sizedsex toy. He had to get it together, or all this would be for nothing. He focused on the filling burn inside him, on how it made him hard. He must have closed his eyes, because he felt a hard smack on his face.

Your work has been a gift to mankind. No, not that memory, not him now.

"James, where did you go just now?" she asked.

"Pierce," he admitted shamefully. Her fingers dug into his hair again, pulling painfully.

"Hmm, you were a whore for him, were you?"

He nodded pathetically.

"Show me how you take cock like one, then."

There was no point in resisting this. The only thing he was resisting was himself. He fucked himself on the chair, wanton and greedy for it, the toy giving him pleasure with his pain. It lasted minutes - long minutes - and she never took her eyes off him.

"Tell me how that feels, James."

She couldn't be serious. she couldn't really want to know. It was humiliating enough as it was. But he'd obey, of course, if she wanted.

"I'm being torn open, Mistress. It hurts. It burns. I'm ashamed you can see me like this." He wanted to bow his head, but remembered he was not allowed, so he kept looking at her with tearful eyes.

"I'm going to fuck you, James. I'm going to fuck you hard," she said. "And you're going to beg me to do it."

"Yes, Mistress. Please, Mistress. Please hurt me. Please rape me. I need it."

Another slap to his face knocked the breath out of him.

"Damn right you do."

She moved back to where the dilldoes were lined up. "What do you think, James. One size bigger..." She touched the one with her fingers, then moved to another. "...or two?"

"Two", he choked out as he continued impaling himself. He hated this, but the horniness was taking over, driving him to be desperate. He needed it all, all she had to give. No point in fighting it, she already knew how pathetic he was. If she'd offer five sizes up he'd say yes all the same. He didn't care anymore if it would still hurt tomorrow, or the day after. He just needed her to fuck him.

She slid her legs through a leather harness, and attached the larger dildo at the front. She was still wearing her catsuit, and he suddenly though that was wrong, that there should not be clothes between them - that she should take pleasure from this. But maybe she did not want to be naked with him, to defile herself like that - he understood.

The toy looked large and menacing on her, making him clench around the toy already inside him. She walked back, and even without warning, or without order, she shoved the dildo in his mouth. She grabbed the back of his head with one hand, for leverage, and placed her other hand on his throat, feeling how deep the dildo was lodged inside under the collar there. It stayed in like that for a long time, and the lack of oxygen made it hard to think.

He wanted this to end. No, he wanted to please her. No, he wanted to come. No, he needed her to fuck him so hard he'd bleed for days.

He started breathing thought his nose frantically, and she must have heard that, because she loosened her grip now, fucking into his mouth. He struggled for air with every thrust, but there was something peaceful about being used like this. He did not have to think, he did not have to choose- he merely had to submit and obey. When she did finally pull out, he felt empty and naked.

"Get up," she ordered, and as he did the dildo on the chair pulled out of him with a squelch. His ass, too, felt empty now, but he was more sore than he had realized. Out of practice, as he thought. She had not ordered him to lower his gaze, so he looked at her, and he thought he saw a flicker of fear behind that calm composure. He moved his hands behind his back, making sure she saw it - the Winter Soldier was no threat to her, she could use him any way she pleased. Something did change in her face, but he wasn't sure it was for the better.

"Ass up, face down," she ordered.

He knelt down on the cool floor, crossed his arms, and rested his cheek on it. His ass remained pushed up - as it had many times, ready for use, convenient for easy access.

"Spread wider, I want to see your hole."

He had deliberately placed himself in a position where it was less visible, knowing it would look loose and used now, on top of being scarred and deformed. She knew his humiliation, and she would not let him get away with it, she'd make him expose it all before this was done. The thought made him want to bury himself into the ground, but it also kept him rock-hard. He pushed his legs apart, making sure she had a good view. He could no longer see her, but he hoped she'd be pleased, at least.

He heard a swish, and her bamboo cane came down on his buttocks, hard. It made him cry out, more from initial shock than from actual pain, but before he even recovered the cane impacted his skin again and again. She was no longer using it as a tool to guide him, but to hurt him proper. He was panting and his cock was leaking precum. Suddenly, without warning, the cane hit him right on his hole, and he howled like a wounded animal, legs collapsing under him.

"Get back up," she said flatly, 'I'm going to get you nice and tender before I fuck you."

"No, no, no...please no," he begged.

"Are you calling red, James?" he heard her ask, half in a daze.

No, he thought. She couldn't stop. He could not let her. They were so close - he was so close. The need in his loins was unbearable. All he could think about was the final release.

"No, Mistress," he said, and he crawled back up.

"Hold yourself open for me."

He reached for his ass with trembling hands - well, at least one was - and he held open the cheeks for her. The cane came down straight on his asshole again, expertly missing his fingers. He howled again, but this time he managed to stay in position.

"Good boy," she said, and she hit him there again - one more, two more, ten more, until he was crying and choking on his sobs like a child. His ass burned and the rest of him felt unreal, like it wasn't his body at all, like he felt when he was lying out in the snow, thinking he was going to die.

The beating stopped and he felt the warmth of her behind him. She grabbed his hips, and when she fucked into his beaten hole without warning, it felt like he was being penetrated by a hot poker. It was big - too big, and he felt something tear inside him. He screamed through his tears, but knew that would not stop her. This was how it should be. He was finally getting what he needed.

She was good. Not even most Hydra agents were this proficient at dealing out pain and humiliation. Her fucking was grounding him, and he was returning to himself, desperate and horny, craving every inch that tore him open, every punishment she might dish out. He moved his hands back in front of him, biting his flesh hand to stop himself from biting his tongue. He was aware of his knees chafing on the floor and of something warm and wet - probably blood - was making its way down his thighs. His mind was still in an almost dream-like state, obedient and pliable, and his half glazed-over eyes noticed drapes on the other end of the room. They were covering a mirror, he realized, but a small part had slid off, and he could see part of his reflection - the wet face with red eyes, outlined by sweaty strands of hair, being pushed forward with every brutal thrust. He only saw part of her - but she looked strong and determined holding him by the hips, the rhythm unwavering. At first he closed his eyes, not wanting to see. But only seconds later, he felt compelled to open them again, and watch his own degradation. He remembered a thousand hands, a thousand cocks - touching, hurting, forcing their way in.

"Please," he begged between sobs. "Show me what I'm good for."

He arched his back and pushed back, making sure the full length of the strapon would go in. She grunted and thrust into him hard, over and over, and he was still sobbing as she did so. Then slender fingers closed around his cock, tightly grabbing the shaft. He gasped, he didn't even see it coming. She never stopped thrusting as she worked him with her hand. He was close, so desperately close, excruciating pain and endless pleasure flooding him side-by-side

"Permission to.." he started, but it was too late, much too late, because he came all over her hand before he could even finish the sentence. The sensation was almost unbearable, and he whimpered through his orgasm, letting the waves of it flow through him - his short, desperate reward for all he had been through.

Just as quickly as it had arrived, it was gone, and he returned to an unpleasant clarity. She was still inside him and it felt disgusting and wrong and no no no and out out out. .

"Get off me," he shouted, and pulled himself free. He ducked and turned to face her, metal arm battle-ready to both protect and destroy. She, too, moved away in a fraction of a second, holding her arms in a protective stance. He made no mistake, though, those could just as fast be on his neck. She was still wearing the dildo, and it was equally absurd and menacing in this situation.

"Bucky," she finally spoke. "Bucky, it's okay. Look, I'm not touching you. You're good."

He let out a desperate breath, feeling on the verge of hyperventilation. He quickly moved his arms back behind his back, kneeling with legs spread open, head bowed.

"I am so sorry, Mistress. Please feel free to punish me as you wish."

He heard her let out a breath and when he carefully looked up. He saw he sitting down on the floor, panting. Her muscles were relaxed now, no longer in fighting mode. She slid the strapon down her legs and tossed it aside.

"I think that's quite enough for one day."

He could see now that she too was flushed and sweaty, but she still managed to be more beautiful than ever. He felt strangely relaxed, like an extreme version of how he'd feel after a heavy physical workout. And these was something else there - something small and scared, needy for affection. He wanted put his head on her lap, and beg her to forgive him until she would grant him a small mercy - a pat, maybe, a few second of petting his hair. He should not think of such things, certainly not now. Though, maybe, if he was clever...maybe he could get something.

He looked at her hand, still streaked with his semen. Any other handler would have punished him for sullying them, but she did not know those rules, he could use that to his advantage.

"I should clean that up," he said. "Please, it's not proper."

She looked confused, but he crawled over, making himself small when he knelt in front of her.

He looked at her hand, then over to her face for permission.

"You really don't have to do that."

"I should. Please."

She shrugged andah, she fell for it . He carefully took her wrist in his right hand and brought her hand to his lips, carefully licking off the stains of his own cum. Her skin was so very soft.

"Oh," she let out, and he felt her tense up. He stopped. "I didn't know you meant with...never mind, go on." He was quick about it, and efficient. He had pushed his luck enough already. He was gentle, too, though - how could he be not be, with someone who did so much for him? She relaxed again under his lips - and when he was done he felt almost guilty, stealing touches from her. But she did not know - they could both pretend it was something else.

When he pulled away, all he could see was confusion. He kneeled again, and she got up. She returned with a bathrobe and a few towels - neatly folded - which she put down in front of him. On top of the pile was a tube of the healing ointment she had given him before.

When she spoke again, there was something in her voice he could not place. "You do what you need to do. Take as long as you like. I shouldn't have hit you anywhere you can't reach, but if you need help..."

He slid his fingers between the fabric of the towels, and they were soft, so very soft.

"Thank you, " he said, still on his knees."You didn't have to..."

She pushed some of her sweaty hair back. "Yeah, I did, actually. There's a shower, if you want. Or you can go home. Or I can go home. Whatever you want."

This was strange, and unsettling. She had been so in control just a few moment before - and yes, he knew, when it was over they went back to being Bucky and Natasha, but still he couldn't help but feel like he did something wrong.She seemed to have been at ease before, and now she couldn't wait to create distance. Not that he blamed her.

He wrapped the soft bathrobe around him, feeling better being less exposed in front of her. He pressed the towels against his chest, like they could hug him back, like they could protect him from his intangible feeling of dread.

He backed away into the shower, feeling almost like he was retreating from battle.

Re: Tainted Touch 6e/?

[(Anonymous)]

I should have posted this aged ago, but I never felt I could get it quite right, but here goes.

---

Natasha felt sweaty and uncomfortable, but she was one shower short of actually doing something about it. Intruding on him was not an option - he deserved his privacy. When she heard the start of water running, she deemed it safe to take off her clothes. She was soaked to her underwear, so that went, too. The sink was a small mercy, and she turned on the water. The liquid felt cool against her feverish skin.

She cleaned herself best as she could under the circumstances. Her hair still felt uncomfortably moist, even after she tried rubbing it with a towel. She was grateful that she had made the call to bring spare clothes, at least. It was nothing fancy - just a plain black tank top and equally dark yoga pants, but it made her feel a little bit more like a regular human being.

Bucky was taking his time with the shower, and that was okay, at this point she'd just wait until she got home. She went out and picked up his neatly folded clothing and his boots, and placed them in front of the bathroom door. She liked the scent of them. While he looked a bit scruffy half of the time, he smelled of old-timey soap, musk and maple syrup...and for a moment she wondered if he was binging on sweets now that no-one was stopping him, and she decided to make a mental note of it.

She felt restless, and at the same time annoyed at her own restlessness. Things had gone well, considering. He had gotten off. Neither of them suffered any real damage. They had still managed to talk as adults and out of the scene after. And yet, something did not sit quite right with her, but she could not put her finger on it.

As she waited for him to finish, she cleaned the used toys, and threw them into the duffel bag that had previously housed her spare clothes. She threw in the unused toys and her catsuit, too - she'd sort those later.

It was almost by accident that she ended up looking at the spot where she had fucked Barnes just a few minutes ago. While fading already, she could still see the wetness on the floor - the sweat where his knees and elbow had been planted, the stain of tears where his cheek had pressed against the ground. And maybe there was something else, too - a memory of a smell, she though, but before she was even aware her mind jumped to another place, another time.

Her hand was clutched tightly - too tightly - around a handgun, and her finger was teasing the trigger. She was fifteen, maybe sixteen, but she felt younger in this very moment.

The boy was lying on the floor, hands held up in a defensive gesture. Blond curls were falling in front of his tear-stricken face. He looked genuinely terrified.

"Pozhaluysta," he begged, "ya khochu zhit'".

She could not see the man standing behind her, but she could feel his presence. He was tall enough to loom over her. He had been introduced to her as Mikhail a few days ago, but he spoke with an impeccable American accent and called himself Michael when referring to himself. Teacher seemed to know him, but Natasha could not remember seeing him before. A spy - she was almost sure of it.

She had not cared for him from the moment she had seen him, long before he had brought her here and put a gun in her hands.

"Pull the trigger", he ordered, for the second time. "You are an assassin."

"No," she said, but she kept her eyes on the boy, and the finger on the trigger.

"No?" Mikhail asked, and she could hear him stepping closer. If he'd take one more step, she would be able to feel him breathing down her neck.

"I am not what you say," she said. In her emotional state, her Russian accent was more prominent. "I have not taken a life yet."

"If you do not, you are worthless. It is your only purpose. Refuse, and you are worth nothing."

Time seemed to slow, the world seemed to shrink in on itself. In a moment that was almost like a vision she could see all her potential tomorrows and the bullets she'd have to fire to buy herself one more day. She could imagine the smiles, both real and fake. She could see before her all the places she might travel to, from the frozen plains of Siberia to the Egyptian desert, and she decided to give them up. Some would have called it insanity, but to her it was clarity.

"So be it," she said, and lowered the gun.

As she turned to face Mikhail, a another gun cocked and was pressed to her temple. "You would die for a stranger?" he asked with disdain in his voice. "Has our training taught you nothing?"

That, of course, was not entirely true.

It was her training that made her move by instinct, at almost superhuman speed, taking even the old spy by surprise. She removed the gun from his clutch with one hand, and raised the one she was holding with the other. Before she even fully realized it, Natasha had emptied both weapons into Mikhail's chest. He crashed to the floor, back first. He twitched for a few seconds, but then life drained from him fully.

There was a sound behind her, and it took her a few seconds to even realize what it was.

Clapping.

As she turned, she could see Teacher standing in the dim light.

"That was an interesting show."

"I do not understand," Natasha said. "I did not obey."

"True, that will need work. But you are an assassin. Congratulations on your first kill, Natasha."

She dropped both guns and they clattered to the floor.

"I will accept punishment," she stammered. "I will accept death."

"Death would be a waste of your potential."

"He was your friend," Natasha protested, still thinking this must be a trick being played on her.

Teacher moved closer, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Mikhail was a bastard, child. A familiar bastard, that is true, but death was overdue for him."

"I do not understand," she said again, and Teacher breathed in impatiently.

"Very well, child. This is today's lesson: There are more ways than one to pass a test, there are several solutions to a problem. Do you understand now?"

Natasha nodded, even though she was not quite sure that she did.

"What will happen to the boy?" she asked.

"Whatever you want," Teacher said. "His life is yours now." And with that, Teacher left.

Natasha snapped out of the memory as the bathroom door opened, and Bucky emerged in the bathrobe. His hair was still wet, but he looked quite relaxed now and he flashed her a gentle smile. He spotted his clothes on the floor, and picked them up, drawing them to his chest.

"Thank you for being so kind," he said to her, and she wanted to refute it, saying she wasn't nearly as kind as he deemed her to be, but she could not find the strength.

A few minutes later he re-emerged, properly dressed, as if nothing had ever happened, as if she had never laid a hand on him.

He kept his distance, seemingly sensing her unease. He made a few steps towards the door, then stopped, fidgeting with his fingers. "I was wondering....do we do this again?" he asked.

Without another word, she took out her notebook and handed it to him. He turned the pages, then placed his metal thumb on a day he seemed to like.

"Two weeks from now? Is that good? he asked.

She nodded and he scribbled down his initials.

Christ, how had she ever thought this would be easy? His writing in her notebook made her anxious - her promise weighing heavy on her chest, a half-baked plan she could not turn back on now.

"Drive safely," she called to him as he left, and it felt silly and mundane, but it was all she could think of. With his build, he could probably survive a dozen car accidents. And yet, she really did feel an inexplicable concern for his safety.

Be kind to yourself, Bucky Barnes," she whispered, but he never heard.

Re: Tainted Touch 6e/?

[(Anonymous)]

Just a little bit more :)

---

Bucky Barnes stood in front of the bathroom mirror with his buttcheeks spread open and inspected his own ass. There were still welts on it from the bamboo cane. The tender flesh around his hole looked swollen and wounded, and even his sphincter was an angry red. His hole looked more open than usual, though he doubted anyone besides him could tell, and he knew he'd be tight again soon enough - ready to be torn open all over again. He could spot two new tears there now, already itchy and healing. They would soon be indistinguishable from the other small scars there, and there was something pleasing a about that, knowing that two of them were now hers and that she had made those with his permission. He wondered if one day new scars could cover the old, so there would be nothing left of them, if she fucked him often enough. Then he pushed away that thought, finding it presumptuous. She had not even looked like she had enjoyed it much when she fucked him. She had agreed to do it again, yes, but there was still no guarantee she'd use him regularly.

She had not withdraw her order not to touch himself, so he did not, but she did give him the ointment to use, and that allowed him to cheat on that rule just a little bit. He squeezed some of it in the palm of his right hand, and rubbed it over the welts on his buttocks. It was instantly soothing and cool. He suspected there was something in the mix that numbed the pain, because soon he could only feel the echo of a sting. When he was done with that, he coated his first and middle finger in the stuff, and tentatively pushed them inside. He still felt himself jerk at the intrusion. It was strange, really, he had learned to hold still at far greater abuse - and had done so for decades. Why then was it so difficult now? He pressed his forehead again the cool tiles of the bathroom wall and bit his lip. Moving his fingers inside himself resulted in a mix of pain, relief, shame and arousal, all at the same time.

He did not want this. He did not want any of this. Remembering what he had done today sent pangs of anxiety through his chest, making his heart stop for a beat at the memory of begging to be used. Sometimes he desperately longed for the time where his memories were blissfully missing. He had fought so hard for them to return, for him to claim them as his own. But now that he had them, he was ashamed to admit he liked it better when they were gone. They were nestled in his mind, always there, always waiting to intrude on him, making his hand a little less steady, making his eyes a little wetter.

He wanted to call her right now and ask her to put an end to this. But if he did that, where would he turn? Bucky knew that he felt like this now - but give it a week, two at most, he'd be groveling at the feet of whoever was willing.

Even now, just after the one time, he found the thought of having to go back to random strangers terrible. He didn't even quite know why, but the though felt like a betrayal to himself, and to her. As if giving up on this this was the one thing he could do to be an even bigger failure.

"Be reasonable", he though to himself, "you have a good deal going. Don't ruin it because you get all emotional after getting fucked now. It will pass, as it always has".

He withdrew his fingers, and already his ass felt less painful. He might still feel a twinge of pain if he tried to sit today, but he knew that combined with his fast healing it would be gone by tomorrow.

"That's a shame", an unwanted part of his brain interjected, "it would be hot being reminded of being fucked by her".

"Shut up," he said out loud, to the the blank bathroom wall. He opened his eyes ans splashed water on this face. He would go for a run. That would take care of this nonsense.

He would wait and see how it would go next week. He could still re-evaluate then. Yes, he could be sensible about this.

When took out his sweatpants and put them on to go for that run, he willfully ignored the fact that he was still half-hard. It would go away. "Can't have impure thoughts if you're too tired," his mother had once said. On some level, he knew that was mostly nonsense, but just for today, he would go for some 1930's wisdom. This new world he had found freedom in, was terribly confusing.

---

end of this chapter - phew. Will post the full chapter on AO3 today or tomorrow.

Re: Tainted Touch 7a/?

[(Anonymous)]

So I somehow ended up with plot in my porn again.

----

"Abso-fucking-lutely not !" Tony waved with his hands exuberantly to add gravity to his words.

"He's basically on the team anyway,"Steve protested.

"No...no no no. Having him run a few covert missions is not the same as strapping a star on his chest and putting a big 'A' on his shoulder."

"He can be trusted," Steve said, trying to be very calm but clearly boiling on the inside.

"That is not the point. My God, do you people never look outside the window? Turn on the TV? He's an ex-assassin!"

"So am I," Natasha interrupted as she scraped her throat. Suddenly she felt all eyes on her. "Just saying," she added. It was the first time had spoken during this meeting and she was really not in the mood for this.

"That's different. And that was a PR disaster as it was."

"I'm a PR disaster," Wanda interjected. Natasha could see her looking at her with insecure eyes, as if looking for approval. Interesting, she thought. Had she sensed that Natasha was trying to steer the conversation? Clever girl.

Tony was trying to contain his frustration, and failing. "Oh great, what is this? The new Soviet block?"

Natasha was getting tired of this. She could think of better ways to spend her time. Besides, this meeting quite unfortunately coincided with the day Bucky had picked for a scene and she wanted to prepare for it. "Really, Tony? We're playing it like that? What are you - five?"

"Okaaay, maybe we should all calm down," Sam said.

"I believe this is a wise course of action," Vision agreed. "While I find Mr. Stark's tone..jarring, the concerns he raises are genuine.

"Finally, a voice of reason," Rhodey huffed out. He had not spoken much during the meeting, but his frustration seemed close to matching Tony's now.

"Not everything in life is decided by reason," Wanda said. Her eyes searched Vision's - a little too long - confirming something Natasha had suspected for a while now.

Tony made another irritated hand movement. "Yes, let's all hold hands and sing kumbaya while the assassin stabs us in the back."

"Oh, come on, Steve cried out.

"Perhaps that was not the most fortunate choice of words," Vision commented.

"Okay, I'm stopping this before it escalates," Sam said. "Let's all take 20 and vote on this when we get back."

Natasha sighed. No was this was going to end well. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. If half the team was against this, and it would divide them - perhaps it was better to vote no.

Re: Tainted Touch 7b

[(Anonymous)]

In which people have sex they hate.

Extra warning for victim blaming. Continued in 7c because word count.
----

Natasha was feeling slightly annoyed later that day when was standing before her - naked except for the collar, arms folder behind his back, eyes cast down. It bothered her that she noticed how long his eyelashes were, that her eyes were drawn to the shapely muscles that ran from his chest to his belly. She disliked how much she found the curve of his mouth to be pleasing - especially as it was still curled into the ghost of a smile, one she would soon wipe away.

The tools she wore on her belt - a few dildos, a stun baton, a knife - should have made her feel more confident, but they felt like burdens now. In her mind she had imagined some sort of female Indiana Jones with sex toys, but in reality there was something sad about it.

She didn't want to be here, not now, not like this.

He shuffled his feet and did not look up, but she could tell he wanted to.

"I'm sorry if this is out of line, Mistress, but I know you were making a decision today..."

There it was. The thing she'd been hoping to avoid.

"And you wanted to know if we thought we had it in you to be an Avenger..."

He nodded almost shamefully.

She hated this, but she could use it to her advantage. Observe your surrounding. Assess the situation. Exploit weaknesses.

It was easy. Too easy.

She twisted her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back so she could see his face. He stood taller that her by quite a few inches, but with the look he gave her, he might as well have been 3 foot tall. She realized he was genuinely scared...and ashamed.

Natasha kicked the back of his knees and he buckled without resistance, landing on his knees at her feet. Her fingers never left his hair, and she could see him wince at it being pulled as he went down.

"Think you're good enough, James?" she asked him. He did not reply.

She backhanded him, hard. "I asked you a question."

"Yes," he hissed defiantly, looking up at her, bracing for another hit. "Yes I am." And honestly, she wanted to laugh. Tell him how he was doing a good job of not simply lying down and taking it. But she wasn't here for that.

"Think Hydra's whore is going to make a good addition to our team?"

"You know that's not what I am anymore." He looked up at her, genuinely angry, like he was going to pounce her. She hated to admit it to herself, but she found the danger of it exciting. All the little hairs on her body tingled, preparing for an attack that never came.

"Really? Could have fooled me."

She crouched down like a predator and put her hand on his half-erection. Only when she did she realized it felt like too much, too close, too forward. He was looking straight at her, like if it was a dare, and she could feel his ragged breath on her own lips.

"I amnot Hydra's," he spat, and she didn't miss the omission of the word whore.

"So why are you hard?"

She stared right back at him - calling his bluff, if that was what it was at all.

"Cause for better or for worse, I'm yours now...Na...Mistress." He said the title with disdain, and this was not something she had prepared for. She knew from the Max incident he didn't quite take this willingly, but she was only yet learning the rules of engagement.

"Mine? So if we'd run into your Hydra pals, you'd obey me over them?"

"Yes," he said simply, and that truly surprised her, because it did not sound like a lie.

"And if they'd pull off your pants and bent you over,, junior here wouldn't react?"

"I didn't...I didn't say that."

In this position, he could easily kiss or kill her - but he didn't seem to want to do the former,and she wasn't sure she could defend herself against the latter. After a few seconds he made a pained noise and lowered his gaze. Something about his surrender made her windpipe feel like it was being crushed, like she'd have preferred an attack over this.

"It's not my fault," he whispered pitifully, "I hate how my body betrays me."

Ah, she could work with that.

"Think it would make a difference to the enemy, if they'd capture you? That the'd care about your personal trauma?"

He shook his head.

And God, she knew it was unfair, she knew he couldn't help it - but, the humiliation was part of it, wasn't it? He looked so very defeated though, that she was doubting how far she was willing to go here.

She placed her hand under his chin, and forced him to look up at her again.

He was still hard under her touch. Her hand fisted his cock hard enough to bruise.

"You wanted to look, so look," she said.

She grabbed the zipper of her catsuit, revealing much - too much - of her breasts, leaving the garment open down to her bellybutton. He was looking in a way she'd describe as admiring - and he was still semi erect, but there was no reaction there, no change.

"You say you're mine, but you'd prefer any random cock over this." She felt his reaction to that in her hand immediately. And this was it, the thing that broke him. He was silent now, but his eyes started pooling with tears, and he stared at her in a way that slammed the feeling of guilt into her chest at full force.

He laid back down on his back, defeated, and placed his arm over his eyes to hide his tears. She decided to let him have that. Without her even needing to ask, he parted his legs, so she'd have access to whatever she wanted.

She pulled a latex glove from her pocket, and she could swear she could see a shiver running through him at the sound of it being pulled on. She wetted her first and middle finger in her own mouth, pushed apart his knees a little bit more before finding his hole. As she pushed in she was met with resistance - he was just as tight, if not tighter than last time. His body reacted to the intrusion, making him tighten around her even more.

"You weren't kidding about healing back up," she said.

He removed his arm from his face, but he deliberately looked away from her.

"Always fun at Hydra parties," he replied bitterly.

This...wasn't how it was meant to be. Everything was bleeding over already. That was Bucky talking, pure and unfiltered.

"What's your color?" she asked.

"Green. Bright green," she scoffed. "What, you really think two fingers inside me comes anywhere near awful in my experience? Just fuck me already." He sounded bashful, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

She curled her fingers up against his prostate, and he let out an unwilling moan, his body reacting the the physical sensation.

This was how it was supposed to go...but then, why were there alarm bells ringing in her head?

She pulled the fingers out, and took one dildo from her belt - the one she had fucked him with last time. She fastened it to the harness that was already secured to her body, adjusting the straps. The fabric of her catsuit felt safe between her skin and the contraption, and she was grateful for that small amount of privacy, even in this most intimate of moments.

Bucky - or James, she wasn't sure - did not have that luxury, being exposed to her mercilessly.

She slapped the inside of his thigh with a flat hand. "Spread wider."

He did without resistance, but she pushed the legs open more for good measure.

"That's a good slut,' she said. "I can see your hole now. Think I didn't see those scars before, James? I know how much cock has been in there. You can't hide from me."

A pitiful whimper escaped from his lips.

She climbed between his legs, positioning herself to fuck him. Placing an arm on each side of him, she was very aware that she was trapping him on the floor like this. The tip of the dildo found its way to his ass, and pressed against his sphincter, impatient to get in.

"I'm going to fuck you dry, James. What do you say about that?"

"A good slut like me can take it," he replied, but he still would not face her when she spoke.

She thrust in, but his body wouldn't let her enter easily,and she really had to force it in. He cried out at the initial penetration, but then she could see him biting into his flesh-and-blood hand, and he was silent as his tears finally fell.

When she was all the way up to the hilt, his eyes did flash up at her, wet and soul-piercing, and she almost thought he'd say something, but then he turned his head to the side again.

She recalled a time when she was milking a millionaire weapons dealer for info - quite literally, with her fingers poking his prostate - and how much he had whimpered : please darling, more darling, it's so good, harder...."

This was not like that at all. As she moved in and out of him, his body pinned under her, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Even his gaze was distant, and she could only wonder where his thoughts went now. His body was still resisting and he was crying silent tears, looking more and more distressed with every trust. This really did feel like rape. Like it was not much different that what had been done to him before. But, maybe that was the point.

She could see he had started sucking on his thumb while she was fucking him open and she wondered if it was for comfort, or if he was really just imagining another cock there.

After maybe five minutes of fucking most resistance was gone. She realized this session might leave him with another scar or two, and it made her heart clench.

"I need...." he said after a few more minutes, and she stopped moving. "You need to hurt me a bit more. It won't work like this."

Re: Tainted Touch 7c

[(Anonymous)]

She had hoped it would not come to this, but she had come prepared. She pulled out of him, but stayed kneeling between his legs, his body spread open before her. She took the stun baton from her belt and she could see him flinch involuntarily. It was no secret they had tortured him with it. He had even said as much to Steve, though he had kept the sexual bits out.

Natasha turned the device on and the electricity whirred. She teased one of his nipples with it, and his whole body convulsed at the pain and the current. Then the second nipple - he was prepared for the feeling now, so he spasmed less, but he couldn't stop the involuntary reaction

She turned off the electricity and ran the baton along the hard shaft of his cock. He looked terrified now, knowing the inevitable outcome. When she pushed the button he screamed the current ran through his genitals, and he bit his hand hard enough to draw blood. Natasha turned the baton back off, and took another dildo from her belt. She pulled his hand away from his mouth, inspecting the damage. It didn't look too serious, but there was no need to have him leave marks.

"Here, bite on this," she said as she held the dildo in front of his mouth, and he took the whole toy .

She turned the baton back on, and his screams were muffled by the phallus in his mouth. She turned the electricity on and off a few times, repeating the process. She almost expected him to grow soft, but he only seemed more erect, precum leaking as his cock took the abuse. She moved the baton down to his balls and he retched against the dildo as she did so, as if he was going to throw up.

Then, finally, she turned it off, took her attention off his genitals and pressed the baton between his buttcheeks. His eyes flicked back to her, looking positively terrified, but he nodded briefly.

The baton went in with less resistance that her dildo had before - his hole fucked open and ready for penetration now. When she pushed the button this time, he wailed in pain, legs thrashing so she had to use her reflexes not to get kicked. She supposed that that was why some people went for the tying up thing - but for now, she was glad she could get information from his natural reactions.

Natasha switched it off again, just fucking him with it, in and out. There was more resistance again now, and she guessed that had been part of the point of using it on him: to make him tighter. Well, that and plain old sadism.

The baton had streaks of blood on it by now, but she had come to realize this was part of the thing for him - he was right where he needed to be.

She alternated between just fucking him with it, and turning on the electricity briefly. It was a dance of thrashing and composing himself again, of crying out and swallowing sobs, until she saw he was reaching exhaustion, even the pain drawing less reactions from him.

WShe tossed the baton aside, settled back between his legs and thrust back into him. When she did he reached for her face, almost on instinct. She braced for a slap, but it was merely a soft touch.

He was looking at her again now, and for a fraction of a second there was something she could not read in those eyes, until he seemed to realize what he was doing and his look turned to horror, his hand drawing away like her skin had burned him.

She fucked him for a few more minutes, her hand on his cock, masturbating him until he was right on the edge. He was looking away from her again, sucking on the dildo half-heartedly. It didn't take long now - he was hurting and spent, and she could feel him writhing under her.

"Hey, it's okay,"she said. "You can come now if you need to."

He did, almost instantly, and she wondered if she should have said that sooner. She was still learning.

Right after his orgasm she pulled out as fast as she could, remembering the lesson from the previous time.

He spit out the dildo, breathing in deeply a few times. She got up, loosened the straps of the contraption around her hips, and let it slide to the floor.

The bathrobe she had for him was already waiting, neatly folder by her before he had even stepped into the room. She offered it to him and he pulled it over himself, shielding his naked body from her eyes.

"I'll leave you to it. However long you'll need. "I'll be by the elevator if you need me."

She turned to leave, but she heard him scraping his throat.

"I would have had your back, you know," he whispered.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"If I'd have become an Avenger," he said. "I'd have had your back."

It damn well nearly broke her heart, and she made a mental note not to try and use real-life elements for scenes anymore.

"About that," she said, as she walked to where his clothes were folded, and stuck her hand into one of the pockets, pulling his phone out. "You should really learn to check your missed messages. It can be useful."

She took the phone back to him, and knelt down on the floor beside him, careful not to touch. He scrambled to sit up, still holding the bathrobe protectively against his body.

"Can I?" she asked, because she did not wish to violate his privacy more by going through his phone.

He nodded and she found the missed message, choosing the option to play it, holding it close to his ear, but far enough not to actually make physical contact. She could not make out the words, but she didn't need to. She had been with Steve when he had made the call.

Hey Buck, so I really wanted to tell you in person, but forgive me I was really excited to tell you. You made it. Vote was 4 to 3, so...congrats, Avenger. I'll ask Thor for whatever that stuff is we can get drunk on to celebrate, okay? You have a good day. And call me.

She could see the look of amazement on his face as it sank in what it meant - and she could see a whole different type of tears in his eyes - those of joy.

She couldn't help but smile widely. "Welcome to our band of misfits."

He looked like he was about to hyperventilate. "Four votes for," he said and she could see the realization form in his head. "Tony would have voted against me, and Rhodes would have followed his cue. Steve would vote for, as would Sam. Wanda would vote for or abstain, but no one abstained so...the swing vote was either Vision...or you." He looked up at her, searching her face for reactions. This was one thing she couldn't hide. She felt the smile on her own face widen. She was happy she could give him something good.

"It was you, then."

"Of course it was, silly."

His fingers dug into the fabric of the bathrobe.

"But you know what I am..."

"Yeah, I do. You're a valuable addition to this team, that's what you are. And oh..." She scrambled back up and headed for the curtains on the mirrors. She had hidden a box there before they had started.

"This is for you."

She put the box down before Bucky and he opened the lid, still looking at her with distrust.

Inside there was a uniform, similar to Steve's, but black at the bottom and blue at the top. It did have a white star on the chest, though. His fingers touched it tentatively.

"We added that mostly to annoy Tony, she said as she nodded towards the star. It might not fit perfectly yet, but we can adjust it."


He took it out , letting go of the bthrobe, and holding the uniform to his body like a child would hold a long-lost favorite toy that had been retrieved. He all but cradled it as he started weeping, and she hadn't quite expected this, but she hoped these were still good tears.

"I'll leave you to it. I'll be near the elevator if you need me."

He nodded, still hugging the garment. "Thank you. Thank you so, so much."

"You're welcome, Barnes, she said. "Guess I'd have your back, too."

As she walked out, she could here the sound of his phone dialing.

"Yeah, Steve, just heard your message..." she heard him say with a voice more composed that she'd expect him to have. "Still can't believe it..."

She closed the door behind her. There was more to that conversation, she was sure, but nothing that was meant for her ears.

Re: Tainted Touch 7d

[(Anonymous)]

Natasha had positioned the elevator in such a fashion that she could swing her legs when she sat down on the edge. It was one of those things she didn't really get to do much as a child, so she took a small joy in it now that she could. She knew by now how much time Barnes took to clean up, so she had taken the opportunity to change clothes, too - nothing fancy, just jeans, a simple top and a leather jacket. On her way here, she had managed to pick up an extra-large blueberry muffin, and she had stuffed a small candle in the middle. She was trying to light it when she heard the door open.

Something that sounded like contained laughter made her smile. She looked up, smirking, but wasn't quite prepared for what she saw. Bucky Barnes had put on the uniform, and he was leaning against the door-frame with his arms crossed. He looked like he could be on the cover of a goddamn magazine in that outfit. It was a perfect fit, and it was strange how his demeanor was completely different than before, confident and playful. She had always been aware he was a handsome man, but right now he looked drop-dead gorgeous.

"That's cute," he said.

"Cute?" she asked, pulled out of her thoughts. "Right, this. It's all I could find on short notice. You like blueberries, right? Steve did say."

He walked to where she was sitting, and took a seat next to her. His legs were too long to swing down like hers. He did keep a safe distance from her, and she swore he flinched ever-so-slightly when she stretched out her arm to offer him the muffin. Nonetheless, he took it from her and smiled.

"It's perfect, Natasha. Thank you."

She felt like this was all very silly, like he was only saying it to make her feel at ease. But, he tore off part of the pastry with his fingers, and put it in his mouth. He did seem to actually enjoy it, at least.

She scraped her throat. This bdsm thing was supposed to have communication, right? Then why did she feel so awkward. She toyed with her fingers and didn't look at him directly.

"I wanted to say...I might have been wrong."

Only then did she look at him, and he looked positively amused, stuffing another piece of muffin in his mouth.

"Wait, should I note this down? Mark this on a calendar? The day Natasha Romanoff admits she might be wrong?"

He'd used humor as a defense before, but this truly did sound more like amicable teasing, and it made her feel a bit more at ease.

"I shouldn't have used the Avenger thing," she said, and felt bad for even speaking it now. "It was convenient for the scene, but it wasn't fair on you."

"It served its purpose."

"That can be the end-all and be-all."

"Think Hydra wouldn't have used personal stuff against me?"

"Yeah, but I'm supposed to be better." She didn't even know how much that meant to her until she had spoken it. So many years of trying to atone for her past - and still, the doubt was always gnawing at her. Was she truly better? She'd been an assassin, and she didn't quite have the excuse of being brainwashed. Not in the same way, anyway.

Her train of thought was interrupted when he held the half-eaten muffin in front of her nose.

"Have a bite...colleague" he said. "Trust me, blueberries can brighten anyone's day." There was something terribly gentle about his tone that contrasted with the strong look of him in uniform - and right in this moment she knew he did have it in him to be an Avenger. If she had been uncertain before, she saw a hero before her now. A hero offering her a muffin. She wanted to say something, but feared sounding sappier than Rogers. Instead, she tore off a part of a muffin. It was indeed quite delicious. A thought crossed her mind, and she decided to go with it.

"I have a request," she said.

"Okay?"

"My own date in the black book. But, not for this. Let's say...a sparring session?"

He took back the muffin and finished it. His expression grew more serious.

"You want to know if I can fight you, don't you? Or if I get hard-on from being punched in a fight."

Dammit, when did she get so easy to read? Oh well. No point in denying it now.

"The thought has crossed my mind, " she admitted.

He got up and stood to face her. She didn't quite know what to make of it, until he smiled again. "Alright, Romanoff. You're on. I'm so going to kick your ass."

Oh good. She liked a challenge.

"Talk is cheap, Barnes," she said, before she threw him the little book. "Make it official."

"Anything the lady wants," he said as he scribbled down a date.

Finally, now, she could breathe a sigh of relief . All in all, the day could have gone a lot worse.