hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

Okay, kids, you know the drill. Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because

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(A!A) Lol, thanks!

(A/N: This is 8k of pure filth. I've never written anything like this before. I can't write anything even vaguely sexual about a character younger than 16, so Natasha is 16 in this. I know nothing about the Red Room in canon so this is 100% my gross brain. Also, "Devochka" means "little girl" in Russian. enjoy)

The Narrow Door

The door to the room is underneath the stairs. It is slightly narrower than all the other doors in the mansion, painted the same dark brown as the stairwell itself and, for the first several years of her life, Natasha had never seen it open.

She can remember the first time she did see it open. Her cohort was sent to bed late after a long endurance test. They were coming up the stairs to the dorms a little before midnight when the door opened and out stepped one of the mistresses with her hand curled tight around the shoulder of a girl several years older than Natasha.

The girl was white as a sheet, staring straight at the ground and no one spoke a word.

After that, she began to notice it more – older girls vanishing for a day or two at a time only to reappear later, a little bit broken but a little bit tougher, too.

She’s sixteen when it starts happening to the girls in her cohort and then—it’s really just a matter of time.

She almost expects it the morning it does come.

Being awake before dawn is usual for them, but this time, it feels even earlier, like she’s only just fallen asleep when she wakes. And she wakes because she hears the sound of the metal cuff around her wrist unlocking. She’s been trained to wake the moment it unlocks. But when she opens her eyes – instead of her and a dozen other girls all waking in unison – she sees Gretchen standing over her. Gretchen is one of the younger madams at the Red Room. She’s tall and pale and thin but her face is scarred and while none of the Red Room’s trainers seem to like any of the girls, Gretchen in particular seems to hate them all and Natasha especially.

She’s terrified for half a moment and, apparently her slight hesitation angers Gretchen who pulls her from the bed by her wrist and drags her harshly from the room – the rest of the girls stay asleep in their beds, their hands cuffed to the frames.

Natasha knows better than to talk at night, knows better than to question her superiors, so all she can do is let her heart pound terror through her body as Gretchen drags her across the hall, down the stairs and—

And the narrow black door is open.

It’s open and a light is on inside, spilling across the floor and Natasha’s stomach lurches in horror with the realization that she is about to find out what happens inside the room under the stairs.

Gretchen drags her through and closes the door behind them.

The stairs lead to a narrow, spiral staircase and Gretchen releases her hand but pushes her shoulders a little and Natasha has no choice but to descend the stairs.

They don’t go far – only ten feet or so but the air is cooler and damper when she reaches the bottom landing. They’re clearly underground, in a basement Natasha never even knew existed.

The room she finds herself in is padded with dirty, white boards – to muffle the sound. There is a sturdy set of cabinets and a sink along one wall, a toilet in the corner and two large, wooden contraptions in the middle.

There is a tall man with his back to Natasha, standing over something lying on the cabinets. Natasha recognizes him – she’s seen him in the mansion before – but she has never worked with him before and doesn’t know his name.

He turns around when he hears them and smiles at her.

Gretchen shoves Natasha again.

“Take off your clothes and use the toilet,” she says in her nasally voice. Russian isn’t her first language and Natasha always finds her a little hard to understand.

But she obeys, because that’s what girls in the Red Room do – they obey.

She slowly slips out of the white dress all the girls sleep in and looks around for a moment to find a place to hang it but Gretchen just shakes her head and snaps, “leave it on the floor.”

Natasha folds it before lying it down next to the wall.

“All your clothes,” Gretchen says and Natasha resolutely does not look at the man in the room as she strips off her undershirt – exposing her breasts to the cool of the basement air, causing her nipples to harden. She looks up at the ceiling as she steps out of her underwear and lets both scraps of fabric fall onto the dress on the floor.

Then she sits, gently, on the toilet and it takes a moment before she is able to relieve herself under the strict eye of Gretchen.

When she is finished, she stands and Gretchen grabs her again and leads her to the contraption in the center of the room.

It’s a wooden bench, padded with leather on top, about waist high and Natasha manages to figure out with it’s for the moment before Gretchen orders her to bend over it.

Again, Natasha hesitates, only for Gretchen to shove her over, one hand on her head and one on her hip, forcing her upper body to lay straight across the padded surface and tip her ass up slightly.

The man chuckles a little, coming over and pulling down on one of Natasha’s arms, buckling it into a strap along the front leg of the bench and doing the same to her other arm.

“You should tell them about this before you bring them down here,” the man says.

Behind her, Gretchen forces her legs apart, forcing each ankle into a cuff on the rear legs of the bench, exposing Natasha’s entire backside to the cool of the basement air. She feels humiliated, uncomfortable and terrified of what will come next.

“No,” Gretchen responds. “Then they will just spread rumors and create fear about this. It’s better they don’t know,” she says. She slaps Natasha’s ass just to make her jerk. “You may begin,” Gretchen says.

The man pets Natasha’s hair gently, smiling down at her. “Don’t worry, Devochka,” he says. “This might be uncomfortable, but you will do fine.”

“Why do you always talk to them like that,” Gretchen says.

“Why do you always ask that?” the man says but he doesn’t seem to actually expect an answer. He pets through Natasha’s hair and then ties it back for her.

“This is a special part of your training. You’re not a girl anymore, you are a young woman. And young women have certain requirements of them. You never know what you might encounter in the field, and we are doing our best to make sure you can handle anything.”

He turns back to the cabinet, running his hand along a serious of objects laying on top of that Natasha can’t quiet see.

“I know you’ve been taught about sex, about how to seduce a man, or a woman, but there are some things you can only learn by doing. I’m here to help teach your body,” he says. He snaps on a pair of plastic gloves, picks up one of the objects and turns around. He’s holding a black, cylindrical object.

He reaches over to the cabinet again, picks up a tube and squirts a little bit of clear jelly onto the object, smoothing it over the whole object with his hands.

“I think this is the easiest training you girls go through. All you have to do is lay there and keep breathing,” he says. Then he looks over her at Gretchen. “You can do the gag now if you want.”

He walks behind her as Gretchen walks in front of her.

Gretchen smiles at her for a moment and Natasha shivers in the cold. Gretchen has something in her hands and she orders Natasha to open her mouth.

Natasha has no choice but to obey as Gretchen fits a leather bit in her mouth and then straps it behind her head. She pulls it so tight that it digs into the sides of Natasha’s mouth and makes her eyes water.

Gretchen tisks at her and stands back to watch.

Natasha feels one of the man’s gloved hands land on her ass and hears him make an appreciative noise.

“All the girls are lovely,” he says. “But this one, she is exquisite,” he says. He runs his fingers down the crack of her ass and Natasha flinches.

“She is rather pretty,” Gretchen agrees. “It makes her more valuable than she knows.”

Then, without any warning, the man parts the cheeks of Natasha’s ass and rubs her hole with a single finger.

Natasha rocks forward as much as she can on the bench and both the man and Gretchen laugh.

“Every time,” he says. He smacks her right on the hole, gently, with four fingers. “They never know what is coming.”

He starts to rub the clear jelly all up and down her taint. It’s cold and vicious and Natasha whimpers slightly in the back of her throat, wanting to pull away but unable to.

The man hushes her. “Like I said, all you have to do is lie here and breathe.” With that, he slips a finger into her ass and she balls her hands into fists.

“She’s really tight,” the man says to Gretchen.

Gretchen just shrugs. “You know how it is. We stay here till she takes it.”

The man slips a second finger into her and tugs on her rim a little.

Natasha’s eyes water and she fixes Gretchen with a stare.

“Oh, yes, little spider,” Gretchen says. “There is a goal of today’s training.”

The man’s fingers spread inside of her, hooking and straightening.

“You will stay here until,” Gretchen turns and picks up the last object on the cabinet. “This fits inside of you.”

It’s wobbly, thick and long and shaped like a penis – a huge, hunk of rubber that Gretchen cannot even fit her whole hand around.

Natasha shakes her head with a muffled noise behind the gag.

Gretchen sets the thing down and it vanishes from Natasha’s sight behind the raised lip of the counter.

“I know, it seems impossible, but Oleg is very good at what he does, and what he does is train tight-assed girls like you to take anything we tell them too.”

She pats Natasha’s face mockingly right as Oleg shoves a third finger into her ass.

Natasha closes her eyes.

Oleg pulls his hand out and looks at her ass.

“She closes right up.”

“You’ll have to work hard to loosen her,” Gretchen agrees.

Oleg slaps her hole again and forces all fingers in without preamble. He fucks her hard and fast with all five fingers – his thumb tucked tight against his four fingers. The only noise in the room are the squishing sounds of the lube and Natasha’s muffled whimpers.

Oleg makes a comforting sound and rubs her hip with his free hand. “It gets easier,” he says. “Relax.”

Then his fingers are slipping out and replaced almost instantly with a plastic, blunt object. He circles her rim with it a few times before starting to push it in.

Natasha gasps and the leather strap in her mouth pushes itself impossibly deeper. She closes her eyes, digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands.

Oleg goes very slowly with the object. Pushing it in millimeters at a time, pulling it back out and going again.

Finally he shoves it all the way to the base and Natasha rocks forward – the hard wood of the bench digging bruises into her hipbones.

Oleg stands right behind her, flush to her naked body. His clothes are harsh on her skin – she feels like all her flesh has been pulled tight and every touch is magnetized because of it. He rocks a little against her – like a parody of fucking while she chokes on her spit and feels her sphincter flutter against the intrusion, trying to force the object out of her body.

Oleg than puts both hands on her hips and grinds against her – she can feel his cock hot and hard through his clothing, rubbing against the inside of right ass cheek.

He steps back just a little and slaps her ass, rubs the palm print and does it again.

Natasha looks up at Gretchen – trying to plead with her eyes for this to stop but Gretchen just pats her head and smiles at her.

“All right,” Oleg says. He reaches out and pulls the object clear from Natasha’s body with one, smooth movement.

Natasha exhales with relief at the feeling of being empty but she can already feel how her asshole is looser – exposed to the cool basement air and full of grease. She wants to take a shower and wash it all away but she knows that’s not a possibility – at least not yet.

Oleg drops the object in the sink and takes his gloves off. He looks at Gretchen and says, “I’m going to fuck her.”

Gretchen nods her consent and Oleg unzips his pants, coming back around behind Natasha.

Natasha shakes her head, “no,” she mumbles through the gag. She manages plants her feet on the ground and tries to push herself up off the bench. She glares at Gretchen, shaking her head and screaming through the gag.

Oleg takes his place behind her, spreading her cheeks with both hands.

She clenches up, tries to force her anus to close completely. But Oleg just laughs and smacks her hard on the hole.

She tugs her hands on her restraints, trying to pull herself free and she doesn’t see the slap coming when Gretchen smacks her so hard across the face that her ears ring. Gretchen’s fingers dig into her chin when she forces Natasha to look up at her.

“You get no say,” Gretchen says. “This is part of your training. You know what happens to girls who don’t pass training.”

Oleg laughs. “Let her struggle,” he says. He has both hands on her hips now, leaning forward and rubbing his cock along her body but not entering her yet. “It’s more fun to break their spirit.”

Gretchen shrugs and lets go of her. “It’s your show,” she says.

“That it is,” Oleg agrees and then slams home with one, long, fast thrust.

Natasha gasps. Oleg reaches over and grabs her hair and forces her head back as far as he can, keeping his other hand on her hip and fucking into in hard, short jabs. He feels warm and he’s thicker than the object he penetrated her with earlier. He leans in hard to each thrust and occasionally just forces himself as far as he can go and grinds. Natasha feels like she’s being split open from the ass.

She’s been shot and stabbed and beaten. She’s gone hungry and gone days without sleeping. She’s been forced to kill girls she considered her friends and she’s limped across the frozen land with a broken leg before but none of it was like this.

She can feel Oleg’s balls bounce against her backside and hear his grunts of pleasure and it’s so much more personal. She’s been examined by doctors regularly for all her life. Bathed with other girls, stood naked in the cold alongside them but none of it was humiliating like this.

Oleg adjusts his grip on her hair to pull it back even more. Drool drips down her face where the leather strap won’t let her seal her mouth shut. She can barely see through the tears and snot runs from her nose.

Oleg than shoves her head down, letting her hair go. She buries her face as much as she can in the padded surface of the bench as Oleg grabs onto her hips with both hands, finding a way to tilt her ass up slightly and thrusts into her harder. He goes until he finds an angle that makes her whimper and tremble on every thrust and fucks her as hard as he can like that for several minutes.

It feels like forever.

He then slows down slightly and Natasha can’t tell if he’s come or not.

“This, this is my favorite part,” he says.

He braces one hand on her back and the other he reaches over and between her legs while still fucking her. His thrusts are shallower, gentler but he still feels huge and hard inside of her, her body continuing to try to force him out.

She feels his hand on the inside of her thigh. He’s so large, his palm can cup almost her entire thigh, then it’s moving up, past her ass where they are joined and then two fingers slide forward, missing the entrance of her cunt completely and landing on her clit.

Natasha’s back goes straight as she snaps her head back and wails. She shakes her head and her hands grab the table legs as she, once again, tries fruitlessly to force herself away from him.

But Oleg just laughs and rubs deliberate, careful circles on her clit.

In spite of everything, in spite of the pain and the humiliation, her body reacts. A tingle of pleasure zips down her spine and Natasha gasps.

“That’s it,” Oleg says, now rubbing firmer against her clit. “Just feel it. Let it happen.”

The pads of his fingers rub through the slick her body produces without her consent and the lube that’s dripped down from her ass. It makes it easier for him to glide his fingers across her cunt.

He leans over, the hand on her back going to between her shoulder blades – forcing her flat to the bench, but giving him a better angle to work her clit.

His hips pick up pace, fucking her harder as he rubs her between the legs.

Natasha feels the pleasure and pain mounting inside of her. She shakes her head, squirming under him, pinned by his weight as her body reacts. The noises from her throat are half-pleasure, half-pain as he circles her clit faster and fucks into her deeper.

She comes with a scream, her back tries to arch but he holds her down as he forces his hips into her deep as he can, one, twice, three, and comes with a grunt inside of her. He grinds into her, rubs her oversensitive nub and then pulls out of her.

Natasha doesn’t even try to move. She lays panting and exhausted on the table, letting all of her muscles sag.

She’s wet all between her legs, cum and lube dripping out of her abused ass, her thighs painted with it.

She hears Oleg catch his breath, he smacks her ass cheek and then digs two fingers into her hole and pulls down on it just to make her flinch.

She closes his eyes, listening to him clean himself up, zip his clothes back up.

“That was beautiful,” Gretchen says.

Oleg pets her hair and she still doesn’t open her eyes. “Helps to give them a little reward early on,” he says. “Shows them that it can feel good.”

“Devochka,” Oleg says, his voice sing-song and condescending. He reaches behind her head and unbuckles the gag. She opens her eyes as he gentles it out of her mouth. “No sleeping. We are only getting started,” he says.

He takes a towel and gently wipes the tears, snot and spit from her face.

“Here,” he says, holding a cup of water to her lips. “You need to stay hydrated.”

She drinks as much as he lets her before taking the cup away.

Oleg keeps one hand on her head as he speaks to Gretchen. “Do you want to do your favorite next?” he asks.

“Certainly,” Gretchen replies. Natasha tries not to hear the cheer in her voice.

“The room is soundproofed if you don’t want to gag her,” Oleg says. He’s reaching down to unbuckle her hands.

Behind her, Gretchen unbuckles her legs.

She’s turned over, onto her back, and this time, Gretchen blindfolds her but leaves the gag out.

Her hands are strapped down to the table and so is her torso and her legs—

“Dancers are so flexible,” Oleg says as he bends her right leg, pulling the knee back towards her chest and strapping it down, to the outside of her body and clipping her ankle there too. He does the same thing to her left and she’s left completely exposed, her legs spread as wide as they go and her ass canted up and she can’t move a muscle or see what is happening.

“This first,” she hears Gretchen say.

Natasha holds her breath to listen as Gretchen walks over to her. She jumps a little when Gretchen’s hand lands on the strap running tight across her ribcage, right under her breasts.

Gretchen’s hands skims up and cups the full of her breast before her thumb slips across Natasha’s nipple and Natasha trembles again.

Gretchen makes a smirking noise in the back of her throat before grabbing Natasha’s nipple, pinching it hard and twisting it.

Natasha yells, her back arching as far as it can against the straps before Gretchen lets her go and she lays slack in her bonds, panting.

“Beautiful,” Gretchen says before pulling on her other nipple.

She hears something click and then a metal clip is snapped onto her bruised nipple. It hurts so bad for a moment it eclipses all other pain.

One is attached to another nipple and then both are pulled up on harshly by a chain connected between them.

Natasha leans into her straps to follow the pull. It’s such a different pain from being hit or shot or stabbed.

“Stop, please,” she says as tears begin to soak through her blindfold.

“Aha,” Gretchen says. “I thought that would be the one.”

She yanks hard on the chain again. So hard, the clamp on her right breast comes off with a horrible, white pain.

Gretchen picks it up, leans in close to Natasha’s ear and says, “This is the room we break girls in.”

She sits up, rubs Natasha’s freed nipple carefully with her fingertips. It hurts but the same way rubbing a sore muscle does – it brings life back to the flesh.

Then she puts the clamp back on and gives it a tiny tug for good measure before letting it go.

She stands, then, between Natasha’s legs, running her hands down Natasha’s chest, down her stomach and, when she gets to her legs, she runs her palms down the inside of Natasha’s thighs and cups her feet.

She’s still for a moment, then she slaps Natasha, right across the cunt, making her shake in her bonds.

“Are you ready?” Gretchen asks.

Natasha bites her lips and waits. Oleg moves across the floor, leans over her a moment and hands something to Gretchen.

She hears Gretchen tug on plastic gloves. She hears the sound of something getting slicked up and her whole body clenches up in anticipation.

“Shhhh,” Gretchen mutters. “The tenser you are, the more it hurts. It doesn’t have to hurt, little spider,” she says.

Natasha takes a deep, shaky breath in through her nose and lets it out and with that, Gretchen pushes the object into her.

It’s bigger than Oleg was. Round on the end, followed by a smaller dip that her sphincter seems happy to close around and keep the tip of it trapped inside her body. It’s not bad so far – she just feels full and stretched and her bruised asshole aching.

Then Gretchen pushes it forward again and she feels the object widen. It seems impossible – it won’t fit inside her but Gretchen just keeps pushing. She hears something rattle and realizes it’s the chains she’s held in – her legs keep trembling causing them to click together.

Gretchen slides the entire thing home and then rubs the inside of Natasha’s knee with one gloved hand.

“See? I told you, you could.”

Natasha gasps, struggling to breath through the pain of it. She feels like she is going to rip open.

Luckily, Gretchen doesn’t fuck her with the thing. She just leaves it in and asks Oleg if he would like some tea.

Natasha sits and listens to Gretchen wash her hands and leave the room.

Oleg moves around behind her – getting whatever they will torture her with next ready – before he comes around and runs his hand across her head.

“Don’t worry, Devochka, you are doing beautiful,” he says and then pulls on the chain between the nipple clamps to make her jump.

Gretchen comes back with a tray of tea – Natasha can smell it.

She pours Oleg a cup and the two stand behind her, drinking and making small talk while Natasha trembles in her bonds.

It feels like hours later when Oleg pulls the object out of her.

He takes her blindfold off and grabs her hair to hold her head while he pours tea down her throat.

She swallows what she can, but it’s hot and he pours it too quickly and she chokes on it. It runs over her face and neck and chest, leaving red stains in its wake.

Oleg runs his thumb under her eye – a gesture like they were lovers – before he unclips the strap beneath her breasts.

Then he touches her lips with his thumb and unclips her ankles.

“Don’t move,” he says, as he unclips her thighs and the other strap across her stomach.

He flips her roughly back onto her face and the straps go down again – this time, she’s held with her arms tight to her sides by three straps that go across her back.

Her legs are left untied and Oleg comes around in front of her.

“I want her mouth,” he says. “She has such pretty, plush lips.”

“That’s fine. As long as she gets trained. I’ll get the next one ready and you can take her mouth while this is in her ass,” Gretchen says. She then addresses Natasha, “We’re going to work on length next.”

She holds up a long, flesh-colored object, shaped like a penis but much longer. It’s not as thick as the last object they made her take and it’s less rigid.

Natasha is still starring at it when Oleg says, “Open your mouth.”

She complies automatically and another gag is forced into her mouth while Gretchen snaps on a fresh pair of gloves and moves behind her.

This gag is circular, forcing her mouth into a wide O that she cannot escape. Oleg laughs and presses his fingers into her mouth, running them over her tongue. He tastes like lube and rubber and Natasha gags a little.

He holds her chin and says, “Don’t worry, it’ll get worse.”

Behind her, Gretchen slaps her hip.

“I’m not tying your legs apart, Natalia,” she says. “You know by now what is going to happen are you going to keep your legs open and take it,” she says.

Natasha hesitates just a moment before carefully moving her legs apart. There is another beat and then she moves her hips to tilt her ass up.

“Good girl,” Gretchen says.

In front of her, Oleg is fondling himself through his pants with one hand and holding her chin still with the other.

“There will be a more thorough training on this skill later,” he says as he unzips his pants. “This is just an introduction.”

He strokes himself to full hardness in front of her. His cock purpling on the end, dripping with precome, curling up toward his belly. She can smell the salt and must.

Behind her, she hears Gretchen slicking up the cock, the wet sound reverberating around the room.

Oleg puts one hand on the back of Natasha’s head, the other curled around his cock.

“Ready?” he asks Gretchen.

Natasha feels something slick and hard rest against the abraded skin of her asshole. Gretchen puts one hand on Natasha’s back, the other still holding her cheeks apart.

“Ready,” Gretchen replies and then Natasha feels the long dildo start to sink home.

Oleg puts his cock to her lips, running the wet head of it across her full, bottom lip before sliding it forward and across her tongue.

Her nose wrinkles and she draws her tongue back but he keeps pushing forward – a hand in her hair as he sinks in to the back of her throat, tasting like skin and latex, lube and sweat.

Behind her, she twists and Gretchen slaps her ass, pushing forward. The dildo snakes into her body, bending in places to twist. It feels like it sinks forward forever, a pressure down in her bowels that she wants to expel. But, soon enough, she can feel Gretchen’s hand flush to her flesh, cupped around the end of the object.

She breathes deeply through her nose where it’s buried in the thatch of dark pubic hair at the base of Oleg’s cock. His balls rest gently against her chin and she swallows around the spongy head of his cock. He groans above her and grins his dick in deeper, forcing back into her throat till she chokes and her eyes water.

Gretchen pulls the dildo out and slides it back, going slow and easy as Oleg reaches down to hold Natasha’s hair with both hands and starts to fuck her face.

She closes her eyes, lets her tongue go loose and tries not to think too hard as Oleg sets his pace in front of her and Gretchen begins to rock the dildo in and out of her body.

“She’s already improving,” Gretchen says. “Holds her legs apart for it and everything.”

Natasha’s knees are trembling and she’s on her tiptoes – having learned it hurts less to cant her ass up slightly.

Oleg grunts and increases his pace. Natasha can barely breath, the way he forces himself into her throat and back.

As she fucks her, Gretchen pulls the dildo out more and shoves it back in harder. Natasha can feel her rim getting bruised by the force of Gretchen’s hand. Oleg starts to fuck her faster and she can feel him getting close – the way he grunts and drives forward.

“You almost there?” Gretchen asks, almost conversationally.

“Just about,” he says. He’s now got one hand down on her neck to feel the way he penetrates her throat on the down swing.

“Tell me when,” Gretchen says.

“Now,” Oleg replies, locking up, driving himself in deep, coming down her throat and she nearly chokes on it.

Gretchen pulls the cock out to its head and then forces it back in and Natasha’s toes curl against the invasion. She would probably scream if she could get air for it.

Oleg rocks back slightly so only the head of his dick rests on her tongue. He thrusts it across the flat of her tongue a few times and then with draws, finally releasing the tight grip on her hair.

“Good girl,” he says, patting her face as he tucks himself away.

Gretchen twists the dildo around entirely before pulling it out.

It makes a humiliating, wet sound as it falls out of her body and Natasha closes her eyes, balling her hands into fists.

She’s given more water and turned back over onto her back and strapped down again.

Oleg steps in front of her this time, snapping a glove on.

“I want you to watch this,” he says.

Behind her, Gretchen reaches over to tug on the clamps on her nipples that are still there. She’s managed to ignore them until a sharp jolt brings them back into focus.

She cries out, closing her eyes and Gretchen slaps her across the face.

“Watch,” she orders and Natasha has to look down between her forced-wide legs.

Oleg is greasing up his entire hand.

He then rubs his fingers across her asshole, careful, and she whimpers.

“No, stop, I can’t take anymore.” She looks up at Gretchen with her eyes full of tears. “I’ve failed. I can’t do it. It hurts. Please stop.”

Gretchen leans over her, smiling. “You don’t have a choice, girl.”

Natasha closes her eyes as Oleg forces a finger in. The second finger he pushes in makes her involuntarily jerk against her bonds.

“Open your eyes,” Gretchen says and she obeys. She watches as Oleg pushes his ring finger in, fucking back and forth and mostly she’s just sore now but she can tell what’s coming.

Gretchen pulls again at her breasts as Oleg forces his pinky and thumb in.

Oleg curls his free hand over her knee as he looks her in the eye. “Ready?” he asks her.

She shakes her head but it’s meaningless. She can feel Oleg bringing his fingers together, tucking the thumb alongside them until he has made a fist inside her body. Her asshole rests flush against his wrist – straining not to tear, the delicate flesh chaffed and bright red.

“No,” she mutters as Oleg smiles. Tears run down her face and she looks up only to be slapped again by Gretchen.

She watches as Oleg slowly pulls his hand back – till she can feel her sphincter hooking on the widest part of the base of his hand, and then he pushes forward slowly. His fist feels like a dense, immovable object inside of her – impossibly bigger than anything else they’ve forced into her and she is helpless to it.

Oleg’s free hand rests on the inside of her thigh, holding so tight it’s leaving bruises as he begins to fuck her, slow and strong with deliberate strokes.

He stares into her eyes as he goes, his hand moving in her body – pulling down till the rim of her hole catches on the knuckle of his thumb and then pushing forward till she can feel her hole widening with the girth of his arm. She lets out a voluntary grunt when he gets as deep as he can and he starts pushing harder on the end of every stroke.

Her toes curl and her eyes water. She feels like he’s reached up inside of her, like his hand is going to rip out her heart and drag it up and out through her mouth. She grits her teeth and tries to keep breathing – in through her nose and out through her mouth. She can taste her tears, salty in the corners of her lips.

It goes on forever, it seems. Oleg changing the angle every time it seems like she’s gotten used to it and every time she grunts and struggles to stay still again. When she looks down at his arm, it seems to slip into her body halfway to his elbow and gags, struggling not to vomit at the site.

Oleg laughs, quietly in the back of his throat. He pushes his arm in as far as it will go, smiling wider when Natasha’s back goes ramrod straight, her eyes squeezing closed and she holds her breath.

He holds it for a moment. The room is quiet and she feels outside her body, drifting on the pain and humiliation.

“Breath,” Oleg orders, slapping the inside of her thigh with one hand. When she doesn’t immediately obey, he slaps her across the cunt as well, causing her to jerk but she takes a deep gasp of air and blows it out.

“Again,” he says. “In,” he orders and she breathes in. “Out, slowly,” he says.

She focuses on breathing out as he slowly – inch by inch – brings his hand out of her body.

His whole arm is slicked. He shakes his fingers out and then says, “Whoops,” reaching into her hole again and fishing out the rubber glove that came off when he pulled his hand out.

He walks behind her to dispose of the glove and she hears the sink turn on as Gretchen comes to stand before her again.

“Lovely,” Gretchen says with a completely stoic face. “You are almost ready,” she says.

She unlocks Natasha – leaving the clamps on her nipples though – and orders her to stand up.

Natasha can barely put her weight on her feet. Her ass is a mess of lube and come and her hole feels loose and torn. She’s cold all over, shaking as tries not to collapse.

“The next part is all you,” Gretchen says.

Gretchen fetches from the cabinet another thick, long, black dildo. Not as large as the one she showed Natasha to begin with, but nearly. It’s fixed to a board that she straps to the middle of the table.

“You are to climb up on the table and fuck yourself on that object until I tell you stop. Every time I have to tell you to speed up – you will get ten lashes afterwards. If I have to tell you to speed up, I’m going to add a minute to the time you are up there. Understood?”

“Yes, madam,” Natasha says.

Gretchen leans over and pulls on the nipple clamps again, hard enough to make Natasha step forward and nearly fall down.

“Good, get started.”

She’s so weak at first that she slips climbing on the table, bashing her chin on the top of it and scrapping her knee on the leg.

Gretchen makes a noise and says, “Faster.”

Natasha scrambles up and positions herself in front of the dildo. It’s not been slicked up like the rest of them, but she has a feeling there is enough lube in her already for it to not be a problem. She’s grips the base of it and tries to work out the mechanics when Gretchen sighs and says, “Faster.”

Natasha slips over it, holds it by the base and leans back till she can feel the round tip of it slip against her asshole. It takes her a moment to find the right angle before she can get it seated and then she leans back to take the object into her body, all the way up to where her hand grips the base.

She works out how to keep her knees under her and bounce on it. It still hurts – it’s about as wide as Oleg’s arm but the end of it is much smaller than his hand. Her thighs strain and her feet begin to fall asleep in the position she’s forced to hold. She closes her eyes and bites her lips. Her breasts bounce as she rocks herself on the dildo – it makes her nipples ache where they are still bruised and clamped.

“Harder,” Gretchen says and Natasha forces herself back onto the dildo so forcefully that a sharp jolt runs through her body and she squeaks. She’s pretty sure she ripped something but Gretchen just says, “Faster.”

She sets a pace that seems good enough for Gretchen and lets her mind drift. The room fills with the rhythmic sounds of her grunts and the wet noise of the dildo in her ass.

Finally, Gretchen says, “That’s enough.” But, instead of letting her up, Gretchen grabs her by the shoulder and forces her down.

Natasha’s legs slip out from under her until she is straddling the bench and sitting completely on the dildo. It snakes up into her body and makes her stomach lurch so hard that this time – she does throw up. Just a little, just to the side of the bench, opposite Gretchen.

“You little wench,” Gretchen says and Natasha doesn’t even it see it coming when Gretchen slaps her across the breasts with a thin, cane. She must really be out of it – she never saw Gretchen even fetch the cane.

Gretchen leans the cane against the table for a moment and then grabs Natasha’s hair and yanks her head back, arching her back so her breasts point up.

She yelps when Gretchen’s other hand slides between her legs and lands on the small thatch of red hair above her cunt. Gretchen’s fingers slip into the dampness there and feel around till they find her clit. Natasha jerks and whimpers when she does.

Gretchen laughs as she begins to stroke at the nub. Her fingernails are longer than Oleg’s were and she occasionally catches her flesh with them, causing Natasha to jerk every time.

Her fingers glide back and forth across Natasha’s clit – strong and knowing, it seems. Practiced, like everything the madam’s do. She watches Natasha’s face. Watches the way Natasha’s mouth falls open and her eyes close as the pleasure begins to build in her, first in pelvis, than traveling up through her gut. Her toes curl and she starts to rock with it against her will, little noises slipping out of her as her movements cause the dildo in her body to shift.

Gretchen picks up the pace, forcing Natasha to come hard. She groans when she does, trying to curl into her body but Gretchen’s grip on her hair forces her to stay still where she is.

Then Gretchen brings her wet fingers up to Natasha’s face and order her to lick them clean. Natasha doesn’t even open her eyes as Gretchen guides her fingers into Natasha’s mouth and lets her suck her salty taste off.

She makes her stay there, impaled on the dildo for another moment while she gives Natasha water and then lets her up.

She makes her stand in Fifth Position while her and Oleg clean up the room a little bit. The last dildo is put away and the straps are brought back out.

She is order to sit on her knees on the table with her feet hanging over the edge – the soles facing up.

“Don’t make a sound,” Gretchen orders as she hefts the cane up.

Natasha curls her fingers on the edge of the table and braces herself as the first strike lands across the arches of her feet.

She gives her ten strikes across the feet. They welt and bruise immediately. Natasha’s used to this pain though – it was done to her and the other girls when they were taught to walk on their toes and when they were taught to cross a room without making noise.

She’s ordered to lie on her back and face the ceiling.

Gretchen fetches a thin, flexible stick this time.

She’s given ten strikes across the breasts this time. It’s a new pain – the stick breaks the skin and leaves thin, red streaks across her body. Anytime it catches her nipple, her whole body ripples through the pain.

Then she’s ordered to stand against the wall – pressing her injured, sore breasts into it while the soles of her feet begin to bleed from her weight. She’s ordered to hold her arms out straight against the wall and takes ten strikes across the back and shoulders with the cane. Gretchen seems to enjoy her every muffled noise.

“She’s yours again,” Gretchen says after.

Oleg is already unzipping his pants. He tells her to lie down on the floor and she doesn’t even look at him as she crumples then and there.

Her fucks her on the floor, his entire body pressing her down. The wool of his suit scratching at her wounds and his weight making it difficult to breath. Her ass aches but the stretch of it is no longer unbearable. He leaves her cunt alone but presses one hand over her mouth and occasionally squeezes her throat to shut down her airway.

She cries and scratches at the floor. It’s wooden, unfinished and leaves splinters in her nail beds. He comes with a grunt and lies on top of her for a moment, smothering her. She’s tacky with sweat, hot under his body and his clothes.

He sits back and laughs.

“She’s bleeding,” he says. He wipes blood from his dick and reaches over to pull her ass checks apart. She buries her face in her forearm so she doesn’t have to see Gretchen admiring that swollen, abused part of her.

“I’d say she’s ready,” Gretchen says. “What do you think?”

He hooks two fingers into her and pulls down.

“Yeah, she’s feeling pretty loose.”

She’s returned to the bench and strapped down again. Her ankles are cuffed back to the table legs, leaving her hole exposed.

Natasha watches in horror as Gretchen dons another pair of gloves and begins to slick up the final dildo. It’s thick, flexible but not overly so. It is, perhaps, a little big longer than Oleg’s forearm and she feels herself begin to shake.

“Hush, Natalia,” Gretchen says as she walks behind her. “You’ve made it this far. And you never know what will be required of you in the field.”

Oleg holds her ass open as Gretchen uses both hands to push the object into her body. The head slips into her loose rim easy enough. Gretchen goes slow and pushes the entire thing in, in one long motion. It slides up into her bowels, making her feel stuffed up, full to the brim and bursting at the seams. Her toes girl and her knees shake as it continues pushing in and in and in to her body. She can feel it stretching her stomach, forcing her harder against the bench. It widens at the base and she can feel the moment her rim tears and whimpers.

“Hush, it’s just a little one,” Gretchen says, soothing the wound with her fingertips as the wide base of the object finally nestles against her ass.

Oleg lets go of her ass and pats her on the hip reassuringly.

“Do you have the chain?” Gretchen asks.

What Natasha didn’t realize was that the final dildo had a loop on the end of it. Oleg hands her a small, but sturdy chain, which she passes through the loop. Oleg then unlocks Natasha and tells her to stand up.

Standing makes the thing shift inside of her and her stomach cramps. She can feel her body trying to force it out but it’s too large, too immobile and her muscles are too tired.

She stands with her legs apart while Gretchen puts a tight, thick leather belt around her waist. It’s like the girdle she is forced to wear on occasion, but not as wide. Gretchen cinches it tight across her body and the clasp on it is fitted with a tiny lock that Gretchen locks.

The chain is pulled taut – up the crack of her ass and also across her cunt. It meets a lock on either end of the belt – both front and back and it’s secured, forcing the dildo to stay inside of her.

“Last thing,” Gretchen says and then reaches over and undoes the clamps on her nipples. Her breasts throb with a relief so painful she sways on her feet. Gretchen rubs her thumbs over the abused flesh with a smile.

Oleg brings her her clothes and she puts them on mechanically, unthinkingly.

“Now, you can join the rest of the girls at dinner. Tomorrow you will resume your duties as normal and, in the evening, I will assess you again to see if you are ready to have the training implement removed,” Gretchen says with a smile.

The weariness must show on Natasha’s face because Oleg puts an arm on her shoulder. “You should be proud,” he says. “Most girls take several more hours before they can hold that device. Tomorrow will be no problem for you. And, besides, I think you will only need to be retrained once a month.”

When she is fully dressed and allowed into the dining hall, the other girls look at her. She can see the questions on the faces of the younger girls – and those in her cohort who still have yet to be brought to the room with the narrow door – and the knowing glances of the older girls.

She eats and tries not to think about tomorrow or the next month.

Or the rest of her life.

Well that was awful. :)

Exactly what the prompt called for!

*slides into spank bank*

This is one of the hottest things I've read on here.

I like this prompt a lot. Was there a particular situation you wanted to see him feeling pleasure in? Or any pairings you do or don't want to see?

This was seriously fucking hot.

My god, I have fully submitted myself to being a piece of trash. Here we go:

I don't have any specific demands, just trashy and disgusting human experimentation done on Bucky while he is being raped, especially taking advantage of his ability to heal. Some ideas:
- Vivisection without anesthesia, to "study" his body, while being fucked with toys
- Removing sections of his muscles and bones that make him more fuckable (i.e. removing parts of his jaw so he can deep throat better) and then putting them back later
- Pumping his body full of diseases/drugs/poisons to see how he reacts, and then using his compliant body
- Starvation
- Long-term sensory deprivation

Basically give me the most disgusting shit possible. Anything goes.

*whistles and sidles in next to you in this horrible corner of the dumpster*

It's the most powerful tool in behavior modification.

But not, like, normal positive reinforcement, where the boss gives you a raise, or the handler gives you a pat on the head or sneaks you a chocolate bar. That takes time, and it's too limited by context.

Positive reinforcement like periodic zaps from an electrode in the reward center of the brain. Reward the asset for obeying, no matter what is happening to it at the time, without having to give it anything it actually wants.

In time, it will want to obey all on its own, just to feel that zap.

OP here, I was rereading and just realized my phone autocorrected the title. It's supposed to be 'consensual non-consent' not non-conventional, though I suppose that technically that works too, lol

WOW. What a hot, evil, excellent gift to the dumpster. Tomorrow will be no problem for you. And, besides, I think you will only need to be retrained once a month. Oh god yes.

Yes, please. :-D

AA here.

Sorry for the wait. School just started so I have had a lot on my mind lately.

Things are heating up for the Asset, and it will only get more intense.

Hope you all like this part.

------

The Asset tries pouring a generous amount into its right hand but overestimates the sunscreens thickness. It slips between the fingers and over the side of the palm. The Asset quickly brings it to Handler Rogers's chest before anymore is sloppily wasted on the floor.

The cream makes a loud smacking sound and starts running down Handler Rogers in thick rivulets. The Asset looks up for a moment to judge Handler Rogers's reaction.

He seems to be suppressing a smile. The Asset worries for a moment that the sudden heat in its face might be due to some allergic reaction to the sunscreen but that seems unlikely.

Working with only one arm, the Asset meticulously spreads out an as even coverage as possible. The layer seems too thick at first, compared to the Asset's own chest, but then it remembers how angry-red and sore Handler Rogers's skin ended up last time, so it decides to leave the chest as is.

Handler Rogers is warm and smooth under the Asset's hand. Completely hairless like the Asset is from the neck down. He doesn't even need to shave his face, unlike the asset. Possibly due to the difference between their formulae. Hydra had the Asset's body hair permanently removed for reasons of hygiene and presentability, leaving facial hair to grow naturally since it could be cultivated as part of a disguise if necessary.

Applying the sunscreen to Handler Rogers goes faster than the Asset had expected, even with some areas already covered by the swimming shorts.

Everything goes blurry, except for Handler Rogers. The world fades away, and the Asset can focus on this one thing: protecting Handler Rogers. Doing this seems to resonate with something deep inside, something that goes beyond the Asset's programming.

It doesn't matter that Handler Rogers never take the Asset with him during field missions.

Handler Rogers doesn't utilize it for combat. Instead the hours pass at a snail's pace when the Asset is placed in lockdown while Handler Rogers is out risking his life. Not a single second goes by without the Asset wondering if he will ever come back, it pictures all the possible ways he could be hurt or even killed.

In those moments the Asset “wants” to be there, to move Handler Rogers out of the way of a death-ray, to take the sniper bullet meant for his head, to jump on the grenade that land at Handler Rogers feet.

The Asset can't do anyone of those things, because it isn't stable. On the battlefield it would just be a loose canon, a risk. The Asset's combat experience is worthless because Handler Rogers can't trust it in that way.

Just after Handler Rogers took proper possession of the Asset, one of his teammates, Sam Wilson, codename: Falcon, came too close to it. The Asset doesn't remember what happened, but security cameras recorded how the Asset broke Mr Wilson's arm and almost strangled him to death with a shoelace before Handler Rogers interfered.

As if that wasn't bad enough, there are still words in the Asset's head that can steal it away from Handler Rogers. Words that could be employed by anyone to turn the Asset against the Avengers, against Handler Rogers.

So the Asset isn't allowed to come with Handler Rogers on field missions. When Handler Rogers is out, it stays locked up in the basement of Stark Tower, inside of a fortified bunker, restrained and immobilized. It is necessary, not just to prevent anyone unauthorized from accessing the Asset, but also for making sure it can't harm anyone or itself in Handler Rogers's absence.

But, it doesn't matter.

None of that matters because, right now, the Asset gets to protect Handler Rogers in this small way. It isn't much, but in the Asset's unreliable condition it's more than anyone could have asked for.

The Asset comes back to reality crouching on its knees, stroking up and down Handler Rogers's ankle with its right arm. The left hand holding the ruptured remains of a tube of sunscreen messily dripping onto the floor. It drops the destroyed item as if burned.

“Hey, you with me?” Handler Rogers asks in a faint voice.

The asset takes its hand off his leg, and shuffles back to press its forehead into the ground in front of Handler Rogers's feet. Hands next to its head, palms flat, fingers splayed and vulnerable on the blue tiles.

“The Asset apologizes for damaging Handler Rogers's property. It is ready to receive its punishment, Sir.” The Asset says in a dead monotone.

Handler Rogers takes a hasty step back. The Asset flinches at the motion so close to its head.

The room is silent for a moment. Then Handler Rogers asks, “Where are you, Asset?” in a firm tone.

“Inside the Bathroom of Handler Rogers's Stark Tower apartment, Sir,” the asset answers woodenly.

The words are once more gentle again when Handler Rogers praises it and asks about his own name.

Some of the tension fades. Among the countless of sneering faces, cruel voices and favoured torture implements, individual handlers melt together into a single multiheaded amalgamation. Next to that, Handler Rogers, kindness and safety incarnate, stands out like the North Star, a bright and unmistakable light in the dark void of night. The one thing to always stay firm enough to navigate by on the stormy sea.

“You are the Asset's Handler -Steven Grant Rogers- Captain America, Sir.” The asset is absolutely sure of this fact.

Handler Rogers exhales slowly, not sighing, just slowly breathing. “Good job,” he praises.

Some more of the tension eases up.

“What is rule number one?” Handler Rogers asks calmly. The Asset twitches. It hadn't thought about its words and casually broke the rules by asking for punishment when it wasn't its place to do so!

The Asset can practically see the special treat go up in smoke, a promising morning wasted on a sloppy mistake.

“The Asset apologizes for intruding on Handler Rogers right by attempting to dictate its punishment, Sir. It will submit to Handler Rogers's judgement, Sir.” The Asset tries to inject as much regret as possible into the apology without sounding like it's begging.

By showing proper contrition, the Asset might just be able to salvage this situation enough to at least be allowed to serve as a bedwarmer come nightfall. Things still haven't reached the same levels of disaster as yesterday, so if the Asset can just get better and keep focusing on Handler Rogers there doesn't have to be two bad days in a row.

Handler Rogers said that he doesn't expect perfection all day, every day. That bad days are permitted because he knows there are things outside its control. That the point is to have, overall, more good days than bad ones.

Yesterday was a bad one.

The Asset averages out at three bad days to every four good ones, just barely towing the line. Two consecutive bad days might very well push it over, make it more of a hassle than it’s worth.

Handler Rogers doesn't say anything at first. “The sunscreen was an accident, so I won't hold it against you. As for asking for a punishment, I think that no harm means no foul, so I will ask. Did you hurt yourself?”

There is something cloying the Asset's windpipe again and another round of tears bead at its eyes but Handler Rogers said it would need the water so the Asset blinks them away before they can fall and forces out a strained, “ No, Sir.”

“Let me see your face,” Handler Rogers orders gently.

The Asset looks up, straining its neck to not raise anything else. Handler Rogers towers over it like a giant. Yet there's a calm, reassuring smile on his lips.

“Further, so I can reach you. Kneel up for me, please.” The command is dressed as a soft request but it is still an order, and he holds out a hand at hip height to let the Asset know it doesn't need to stretch up so far as to rest all weight on the knees. The warmth and fuzziness is coming back again, everything might not be lost after all.

Once the asset is upright, folded forearms in back, chest pushed out and ass resting on heels, Handler Rogers brushes a thumb over its forehead. The warm spot that rested on the heated tiles tingling under his touch.

Handler Rogers is looking at it with a curious expression. The asset doesn't understand what he searches for, but it will give whatever that might be to him if it is able. The Asset would give its life for Handler Rogers, but he already owns it fully and doesn't want its life.

Handler Rogers just wants the Asset to live. Live to serve another day.

If Handler Rogers finds what he looks for, the Asset doesn't know. The searching glimmer in his eyes goes away after a moment. He looks away and the Asset does the same, locking its gaze to the floor where it belongs. His hand stays by the side of its head though, giving the asset something to rest against.

“You did a good job with the sunscreen. I don't think I'll even get a mild tan like this...Which means I can enjoy the sun the entire day.” The Asset can hear the smile in Handler Rogers's voice.

It did good, it pleased Handler Rogers even if it can't fully remember everything. The Asset's cock starts to harden yet again.

“Just clean this up, and we'll go up top. Wait! Use this, here!” Handler Rogers quickly amends his orders when the Asset bends down, stretching out a tongue to lick the sunscreen of the floor. He holds out a roll of toilet paper for it.

The asset takes the equipment with its right hand made out of flesh, the left metal one still messy from the accident.

Cleanup takes a couple of minutes with just one hand. Afterwards the Asset is instructed to clean the residual sunscreen from between the plates on its hand with warm water in the basin. Manually bending the digits backwards one by one to get underneath the concealed spaces takes even longer. The Asset muses over whether it would have been quicker to just lick the mess up, but it doesn't question Handler Rogers's orders because it is not its place to do so.

Once everything is good, the Asset kneels down before Handler Rogers, who’s been sitting on the stool in the corner, waiting.

“Good job, Asset. Let's go outside then,” Handler Rogers says as he stands up to exit the bathroom. The Asset follows him, crawling on all four, to the side and slightly behind him in the proper formation.

Once by the door, the Asset hesitates, unsure if Handler Rogers has forgotten or is purposefully ignoring the mundanely looking dresser by the side.

Handler Rogers has one hand on the door handle when the Asset pipes up, “Sir, what about the safety gear?”

------

I love this part.

Is it too much to hope the safety equipment mean Steve leashes it?

AA here.

The safety gear is, as the name implies, for keeping things safe.

Specifically, two things. These two things are as follows:

1. The Asset. Keeping the Asset safe from everyone else.

2. Everyone else. Keeping everyone else safe from the Asset.

If these two goals are best achieved by a leash, then the Asset will very much be leashed.

Thank you for commenting!

Ugh *cries* break my heart why don't you

That was so beautifully done. Thank you

DA:

What does it say about me, that the moment I read "keeping the Asset safe from other people" I immediately jumped to "muzzle."

Awwww, poor Steve.

DA:

I thought muzzle as well. :D

Excellent as usual, A!A

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Page 139 of 205

Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party

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