Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

[trashmod]

Welcome to the latest, greatest, scummiest iteration of hydratrashmeme. Come on in and please check your sense of shame at the door.

Rules in brief: Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because this is emphatically not a safe space. Link your fills on the fill post. Unprompted fills: make a prompt or a header comment and reply to it with the full text. Continuations of fills from earlier rounds: just make sure you link in both places.

What's on-topic: Filthy and perverted twists on all the quality whump served up by Cap: Winter Soldier. Noncon, aftermath, uncomfortably sexualized violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves.
What's off-topic: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, shippy/romanticized noncon, MCU heroes repurposed into OOC or edgydark delivery vehicles for your fave's suffering. If you've got a prompt for one of those burning a hole in your brain, head on over to mcu_trash.

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Tainted Touch, round 5

[(Anonymous)]

I hope this is still ok. Guess I decided to update it.

Original prompt: https://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1634.html?thread=2949218#cmt2949218

Round 4 Chapters: https://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/2271.html?thread=5214175#cmt5214175

Prompt recap: 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.

Re: Tainted Touch 9b/?

[(Anonymous)]

Just minutes later, Natasha was sitting in her chair in the quinjet, listening to the pleasant hum of the engine. She had reached the level of fatigue where she was feeling comfortably numb. She was slouching in a rather unladylike way, and she did not care. She had been hurt – though her entire body felt distant now - present but not acutely gnawing at her flesh or bones.

She was watching Bucky from the corner of her eye as she was talking to Barton about nothing much in particular. He was making small talk as he bandaged her leg and dabbed the bruise her forehead. He gave her updates on his family, on occasion. She liked that, that he kept her informed even on the minor things. Made her feel like a real auntie, like part of a family she never had.

She could spot Bucky’s nervousness, though, and Clint story’s about Nathaniel’s teething issues couldn’t quite distract her from that.

Steve approached Bucky, and Natasha couldn’t quite make out what was being said – she only saw Steve reach out for Bucky’s wounded leg, an Bucky shake his head and mumble something. She wondered if she should get up and save the day, but in the end, he needed to learn to do this on his own. Minutes later, Steve moved back to his seat, and it seemed no disasters had happened without her intervention.

***

“So, it’s totally not suspicious you didn’t want a medic,” Natasha quipped, maybe an hour later, when she walked into the medical wing of the Avengers tower uninvited.
Bucky was reclined on a cot, wearing only a t-shirt and shorts, his armor and bloodied trousers cast aside. He was trying to squirt some disinfectant on cotton wool. The movement seemed difficult with the metal fingers. Maybe the action was just a little too delicate for the purpose they were created for. Or maybe he was just upset.

He’d gotten rid of the others by saying he’d rather patch himself up, but Natasha was done with this little act – tired and done – and she wanted to make sure he wasn’t ignoring major injuries because of shame.

Steve and Sam had had gone out for food, and the rest were either napping our lounging, recovering from the fight. They had as much privacy as they could hope for.

Bucky shrugged at her, unsurprised by her presence. “Last time I had a physical, I had a hard-on. Fun times. I’m sure I can blame dislike of doctors on trauma. A boner might be harder to explain.”

Natasha sighed, too tired and annoyed to argue the issue.
“Here, let’s get you fixed up,” she said as she appropriated the first aid kit and took out some bandage. She then poured the disinfectant on a sterile pad, and looked at the damage. It was mostly just bad chafing, really. Some of the skin had broken as he’d been dragged, but it was only superficial damage. Nothing supersoldier healing couldn’t take care of. Still, she carefully dabbed the wound. He didn’t even flinch.

“I meant what I said,” Barnes said, staring right at her. You should still do the other punishment.

She rolled out the clean bandage, and started wrapping it around his upper leg. “Your first mission went well. I’m not entirely sure it’s even necessary.”

“Natasha,” he said. “I looked at you through a sniper rifle and thought about how easy it would be to kill you.”

That got her attention. She stopped wrapping his leg, but did not remove her hands, not moving. She looked at him with piercing eyes, trying to figure out what was going on in that head of his. When she was sure there was no escalation following, she quickly secured the bandage and moved a few inches away.

“Just for a second,” he added, “but that’s a second too long. I never did with a handler, no matter how much I hated them. I was well trained”.

She was starting to get annoyed with that. “Barnes, I’m not your….”

Bucky moved, quickly as he was prone to. Natasha backed away, expecting an attack. Instead, he slumped and kneeled in front of her. He looked up at her candidly, meeting her eyes. “You are not my handler, I know, Mistress. But you can help me. Please help me.”

Then he cast down his eyes, bowed his head, and held his hands in front of him in supplication.

“Christ, Barnes, not here,” she hissed under her breath. I haven’t checked this place for bugs or camera’s, she wanted to add, but realized saying it our loud would make it worse.

“Fine,” he hissed as he got back to his feet. “ But I don’t want to feel that way about you, not just for…this thing we do, but as a person”.

“But you’re saying you do feel that way, and you should be allowed to. If you’re saying that p… something could change that, then it’s not real.

He looked defeated. Tired. All he could manage was another shrug. “What is even real, Natasha? For people like us?”

She didn’t reply, her breath feeling heavy.

“Do you need help fixing up?” he asked, changing the subject as he neatly sorted thing back into the first aid pack.

“I’ll manage,” she said.

Bucky nodded, with a crooked smile. “Of course you will, Natasha. Just like I will.”

He walked out, his eyes meeting hers once more.

The hallway smelled of shawarma – but despite being hungry, she didn’t think she could swallow a single bite.

Re: Tainted Touch 9c/?

[(Anonymous)]

Natasha came to him a week later, simply dropping the little black book on the table in front of him. No-one was in the room, she had made sure of that. Bucky picked it up, looking at her questioningly. There had been a silence between them since that last mission. It hadn’t been uncomfortable, per se, but it wasn’t what had become their usual manner, and he had missed both brief conversations and banter.

“Your punishment,” she said with a raspy voice her body tense. “Choose a date, if you still think you need it.”

Bucky had not expected her to come to him anymore, to be honest. Now that she had, he was both relieved and petrified. He leafed through the pages, finding it hard to turn them, as his fingers shook. As he reached the current date, he saw the next evening was free, and he wrote his name there ‘ “James” - the letters crooked as the anxiety made him unable to draw a steady line on paper. He was not that kind of masochist, he supposed – the kind that enjoyed drawing it out. He just wanted to get it over with.

She took the book back from him and slid it in her pocket.

“I will not go easy on you, James,” she said, her face unreadable.

“That would defeat the point, Mistress,” he replied.

He listened to the clicking of her heels as she walked away. Even as she moved out of sight, he imagined her hips swaying. He hated himself for it.


Bucky – or James, rather – came to their usual playspace the following night. He had doubted, until the very last moment, to call it off entirely. It seemed silly, as he had pleaded for it so adamantly. But now that it was actually coming, his stomach turned at the actual thought.

Natasha had texted him instructions before coming, and he had followed them to the letter. He had has washed himself before coming, both inside and out. Gotten rid of excess body hair. Worn the collar under his sweater. And finally, he was pressing the elevator button exactly on the hour. Everything creaked as the the old thing started its climb to the ground floor. Bucky’s heart beat so hard he felt like fainting when he entered, and a shiver ran down his spine as it took him down.

His Mistress was waiting for him, as beautiful as she was stoic. She was wearing her catsuit – but she had added different touches. She was wearing her hair up, her make-up more pronounced that it had been the last time. Her lips were a deep red; her eyes outlined by long black lashes. The heels she was wearing were higher than those she chose for comfort, and she seemed taller overall, posture straight and shoulders rigid. She was playing her part, as he did his, in this strange dance they did.

“Good evening, James,” she said.

“Good evening, Mistress,” he replied, and there was a comfort in that ritual.

She led him to the middle of the playroom, where a strange contraption had taken the place of the old chair. Next to it was a table, with all of his Mistress’ equipment in sight. One side had an assortment of dildoes, arranged from small to large. The other displayed hips, floggers, belts, canes and other devices of torture. They had clearly been placed there for him to see.

“Undress,” she ordered, and he did so swiftly, folding his clothing neatly on the floor, until nothing but the collar remained. He wasn’t hard yet, his anxiousness stronger than his arousal. He loved his head behind his back, and bowed his head – a pose of non-aggression.

“Very good, James,” she said, and as much as he hated to admit it, his heart jumped a little at her praise.

“Do you know what this is?” she asked.

“It looks like vibranium.”

“It is.”

“How did you even get that?”

“You’d be surprised what smugglers will give you when they prefer their arms attached.”

It was supposed to sound intimidating. It was intimidating. The idea that she would and could take out a smuggling operation on her own was downright scary. But any fear he could have felt was clouded by worry at the idea she’d risked her life to get this here, for this stupid game of theirs to get his broken body off, and make his messed-up head halfway sane. He’d tell her off for that…later.

Now he just looked at the thing with resignation.

“You know what comes next, don’t you James?”

He nodded.

Her hand slapped his naked buttocks almost immediately. Right, he forgot. Words.

“Yes, Mistress”.

“Position yourself,” she ordered.

He took a few more looks at the vibranium skeleton, examining it with his hands. It seemed relatively strain- forward. He climbed in, keeling down, hen placing his arms forward.


The contraption held him in place on all fours, as she attached vibranium restraints on his waist, tights, ankles, wrist and arms holdings him in place. His feet were kept apart by a sturdy bar, giving her all the access she could want. He felt his heart beat uncontrollably, but that was part of the game.

“That comfortable?” Natasha asked as he checked the restrains again.

“As much as they need be,” he answered flatly.

She took a cane from the table and ran it over his buttocks. He shivered.

“You know why you are here?”

“Yes”.

“Tell me,” she demanded as she moved into his line of vision. It stirred in him again, the thought of going for her throat and ending this. He pushed it away, only for it to be replaced by that other thought he wanted to be punished for, the part of him that wanted to rip her clothes off and have his way with her. He silenced it, because it would never happen.

“I have hurt you,” he said instead. “And I thought about hurting you more.”

He did not say the rest. In a way, he did not need to. In a way, it was the same. For a man like him…to inflict himself upon a woman, how could it not hurt her, in the end? I was a transgression of the worst kind, perhaps worse still that to wrap his fingers around her neck.

“James, are you with me?” she asked, seeing he was drifting.

“Yes. I am sorry. I am very sorry, Mistress.”

“Tell me what your punishment is.”

“I will be beaten, then I will be fucked into orgasm and when I will beg for you to stop, I will be silenced and fucked again.”

“And do you accept this punishment?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Without warning, the cane came down on his buttocks and he cried out, as much in surprise as in pain. She did not give him time to recover, and the next hit was on his back, then on the back of his thighs, the alternating between those places, making him flinch. She was not holding back – the blows were hard and swift, and almost clinically functional. It was different than from when they played before, where she played with him like a cat with a mouse. There was a distance now, an almost scary efficiency, that really did make it feel like a punishment. After maybe 20 blows, he started shivering, and muffled a scream.

“You can let it out”, she said, and he did then, screaming his lungs out as she kept hitting him, his skin on fire while the rest of him felt icily cold. He felt the sweat forming on his skin, and tears running from his eyes, past his lips, until the dropped down from his chin. He looked down on the place on the floor where they had landed, small splashes that bore witness to his plain.


“How many were those?” he heard her as; like in the distance.

“I don’t know, he sobbed. “I’m sorry, Mistress, I don’t.

He felt her cane poke against his balls, and he braced for a blow there, shrinking as much into himself as the restraints allowed. The blow never came, and the cane was replaced by her hand, touching his still flaccid member. It felt wrong, so very wrong to have her touch him there, especially as he was exhibiting his pathetic dysfunction even when she was giving him what he needed for arousal.

“What’s wrong, James?” she asked, and the thought of failing her gave him more distress. “You’re not counting, you’re not getting hard, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know”, he said again, bawling like a child. “I’m….I’m sorry I’m failing you.”

She knelt down in front of him, and he lifted his face so he could see her.

“S-sorrry,” he said again. “M-mmaybe I’m just s-sscared.” He felt pathetic admitting it.


“There there,” she said, and she petted his hair much like if he were a dog. It was humiliating, but he craved every second of that touch and he leaned into it.

“We can still stop this,” she said.

“N-no, please. I need…I need….” He struggled to say, but there words didn’t come out anymore.

She continued to pet his hair and he found it became easier to breathe. Her hand them moved from his head past his cheek and to his mouth, forcing her thumb in.

“Suck,” she ordered, and he did. He sucked it expertly, although it was small compared to the cocks head taken, bobbing his head up and down in that all familiar motion. He looked at her through his tears and something changed in that emotionless face, even if just ever so slightly. He couldn’t dare to guess her thoughts, but he chose to imagine that she liked it, if only for his own benefit – and sure enough, after a few minutes his cock finally started responding.

“That’s a good boy, James,” she said, and that sent even more blood rushing to his dick. She got up again, and took something from the table. Unexpectedly, he felt her slicked thumb rub over his hole.

“Open up for me, James.”

Not that he could, really. But it gave him fair warning, and sent another wave of arousal through him. Something was forced inside him, and this time he truly did strain against the contraption that held him, but it didn’t budge. He wasn’t familiar with the toy that penetrated him, it wasn’t quite as big as some of those he had taken, but it curved peculiarly, hitting a very sensitive spot. He whimpered as she flipped some sort of switch, and the toy started vibrating, stimulating him mercilessly from the inside.

“Oh God,” he whined.

She stood up straight again, and he could see the cane again from the corner of her eye.

“Get with the program, James,” his Mistress ordered. “I expect you to count now. We were at fifty”.

Three more vicious blows landed on his buttocks, then five on his back, then five on his ass. He was crying again in no time, pain and guilty pleasure assaulting his senses at the same time.

“How many, James?” she asked.

“Sss-sixty-ttt-three, Mistress,” he managed, gasping convulsively.

More pain came, the cane swishing and reaching even more sensitive places – the inside of his thigh, the again the back of them, then back once again to his burning behind. He was sure the skin had broken in a few places. Good, he thought, she wasn’t holding back on the punishment factor.

“How many?, she checked again.

“Ssss….sss-seventy-ttt-two,” he slurred, the ability for speech rapidly abandoning him. He could feel himself leaking precum, and dear God, he might just come on the spot just from being beaten like that.

More came still, a seemingly never-ending wave of pain, flowing over him as the cane licked up to his shoulders, the down again to his legs, until his entire body felt like an open wound.

“Give me a number, James.”

“Nnnn….nnnnn….” he tried, but his mouth didn’t want to anymore. But…;he did not want to fail her. “Nnnnn-nnnninty,” he finally forced out.

“Good. Almost there,” she said, and something in her voice sounded like she was relieved as well.

Ten more strikes followed, hitting already damaged flesh, then two between his buttcheeks – and the last, the last on his cock, so he screamed until his lungs seemed to give out – and then they were at hundred, but she didn’t make him say that anymore, and it was over.

Re: Tainted Touch 9e/?

[(Anonymous)]

She knelt down next to him again, putting the cane down. She no longer looked like she had come down from her ivory tower, her face sweaty and flushed, her make-up smudged.

“This is it, James. Last chance to stop. We can. It was brutal as it was.”

He shook his head. “Nnn-no.” He hadn’t come this far for nothing.

She let out something of a sigh, and he was unaware if it was one of resignation, or if she was just sighing at his stupidity.

“Alright then. Open up,” she said as she pushed a large object against his lips. He was barely even registering reality.

His mouth slacked open, and something large slipped in. It hit the back of his throat, but it didn’t make him gag – never that, he was trained better – and he could feel straps being secured tightly in place at the back of his head. The penis gag would silence his protests. There was no turning back, no more safewords to be said. He would be punished and violated, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it anymore. His fate was sealed.

Natasha put on her harness where he could see it, pulling it up over her catsuit, with a large, almost comically pink dildo attached to it – but this would be anything but funny. Her hand wrapped around his rock-hard member as the toy she had inserted still buzzed inside him relentlessly. It didn’t even take much. He was so close already, aching and overstimulated, and after just a few minutes of her ministrations he came into her hand violently, shooting all over her finger and the floor below him.

The horny haze he had been in started lifting, and only now was he truly aware of his body – the pain from the beating, the discomfort of his body being restrained for so long, and the toy…the toy that was still buzzing away even though he had orgasmed, and the only though going through his mind was that he wanted it out.

“Nnnnnnnnnnno,” he screamed again the gag, but it only came out as a muffled, unintelligible whine. He struggled against his restraints for real now, but the moved no more than when he was trying them out gently.

No – no, no, no. He didn’t want this.

He was lying on a table. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 32557038. This was no way to treat a prisoner. This was beyong all decency of a rules of engagement. This was torture. No, worse. No didn’t want it….No.

No, no. Not that memory. He need to stay in the moment. Punishment, this was punishment. He’d been bad.

No, he’d been punished enough. Enough. Out, he wanted it out. He heard metal strain against metal as his left wrist tried to break out of his bonds unsuccessfully.

“Thkkk iii owww,”he cried against the penis gag, but they weren’t even words, and even if she understood them, she wouldn’t listen.

“Don’t fight it, James,” she said, but that was one order he could not follow, and he struggled harder still, fighting a battle he couldn’t win.

He wanted to beg and plead, fall down at her feet and kiss her boots – anything, just to make it stop. Instead, her hand was on his cock again, stroking it, feeling impossibly tender, and to his horror, it started filling up again.

Finally – finally – the toy was turned off and he felt relief wash over him.

Then no…no, no, no…he felt her hands on his hips and he remembered the pink toy and he knew what was coming next. One hard thrust and the dildo was already halfway up his hole, opening him up much more than the prostate massager had. A second thrust and it hit home, making him feel unbearably full.

He thrashed and struggled and swore against the object in his mouth, but it changed nothing about his predicament. She started to move, and he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her. This was it, this was truly it: the feeling of being raped. She could have her way with him as her handlers had. She could do this for five more hours, if she lasted, and he simply had to submit to it.

Her hand moved to his cock again, stroking him from behind, and he simply let himself slump against his restraints now, taking the inevitable punishment. He cried as she wanked him off, but he let that feeling happen – that terrible, violating feeling – take him over, and allowed himself to be led to a climax as she fucked him through his punishment. Finally, his body committed its ultimate betrayal, and a second orgasm thundered through him, and he bit down on the gag so hard that he felt it give way.

For a horrible, terrifying minute he thought she would keep going. But her hand released his cock, and the toy slipped out of him like a slithering eel – covered with his blood, no doubt.

He heard her ragged breath as her fingers worked to release the straps of his gag. As soon as it came loose, he spit it out. The toy fell to the ground, detached from the base at the point where his own teeth had sunk in.

“Bozhe moi,” she said. “Are you ok?”

“No. Get me out.”

She moved as fast as she could and opened the restraints as fast as her fingers would allow her. As soon as he felt he was free, Bucky crawled out of the contraption, but he realized he couldn’t stand. He simply dragged himself to the side of the room and slumped down on his belly.

Natasha reached out to help him, but he swatted her hand away. He’d feel bad for that later, but now he needed her to let him be.

“Don’t touch me,” he said not angrily, but firmly.

“I need to tend to your back,” she said as she she encroached on him.
“Not now,” he hissed, and she let go.

She wiped the sweat of her face, running a rand though her now-messy hair, letting it fall down.

“This was a terrible mistake, she said.

“No. It was terrible, but not a mistake.”

He didn’t want to fight her. He was tired, so very tired. If he could sleep, then at least he’d be released from the tyranny of his own body for a few hours. He simply had to close his eyes.

He heard her getting up – the way she walked would suggest it was angrily, but if he’d have to apologize, he’d do it in the morning. But she was back before sleep could take him, and he could hear some rummaging, then something happening beside him. He forced his eyes open, and he could see she had made makeshift sleeping arrangement, a camp-bed with an opened sleeping bag pulled over it.

“Move,” she ordered, but he shook his head.

“Dammit, move., she shouted. “I mean it.

He pushed himself up with all the strength he could muster, and crawled over to the softer surface where he let himself collapse again.

She was saying something else, he was sure of it – her voice fast-paced and agitated. But those were worries for another day. She could punish him again, for all he cared. But right now, he’d let sleep take away his pain.

Re: Tainted Touch 9e/?

[(Anonymous)]

Wow, that was intense. So glad you're continuing this!

Re: Tainted Touch 9e/?

[(Anonymous)]

Omg I love this, it's great as always. I love all the different emotions and dynamics in the scene.

Re: Tainted Touch 9e/?

[(Anonymous)]

Awesome update! This remains one of my favorite stories <3

Re: Tainted Touch, round 5

[(Anonymous)]

Nonny, I'm screaming, this is one of my favorite stories and I can't wait to read the update!