Authors Note: Hi everyone, I am new to this site so I would love FEEDBACK. Did you like the story? Are there things you don't like. Message me! I'm also on Tumblr: Heroneone
The first thing Peter felt as he slowly began to wake up was the cold. Not just any cold, but the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and makes you feel like it's impossible to get warm again. Peter's body moved involuntarily, causing a full body shiver to course through him, making him want to curl in on himself. He tried. But discovered rather quickly that that wasn't possible.
He blearily opened his eyes to see what was preventing him from getting into a tight warm ball. The first thing he noticed was that he was vertical, but wasn't standing. Then he felt the ache in his arms and shoulders. He looked up to see his hands tied by a rope to a hook hanging in the ceiling. He shuffled his feet so he could get them under him and release some of the tension and pain from his arms and shoulders. He quickly realized that he could only release the tension fully when he was on his tiptoes, and when he did he couldn't help the cry he made as the pain seemed to double in his shoulders and arms.
He tried to gently shake them as pins and needles shot through his body causing a whimper to escape his lips. He looked around the room trying to figure out where the hell he was, and how the hell he had gotten here. But his head still felt groggy and heavy, and when he tried to remember the last day or so his head pounded even harder than before. He shut his eyes trying to block out the light which would hopefully help with the pounding head. It helped a little but still, it wasn't the best solution.
He opened his eyes to look around the room again and was surprised about how empty it was. It was just a box of a room. There was a floor, a ceiling, four walls and nothing else. Well… that wasn't entirely true. There was a drain in the middle of the floor beneath Peter's feet and a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. a vent in one corner, a security camera in another, and there was one door right in front of him.
He felt the cold again and shivered to realize that he was only in a thin t-shirt, and his worn sweat pants that were so thin and old that they had holes in the knees, on his feet were his worn black converse. The temperature of the room had to be around 30 degrees Fahrenheit. No wonder he was shivering so much. There must not be heat in this building. It was the middle of February and last time he checked 10 degrees outside.
This didn't look good. The pounding in Peter's head began to ease and memories slowly came back to him. It started with flashes of a hand grabbing him from behind, the sound of his phone clattering to the pavement, and a cloth covered hand being shoved over his nose and mouth. Then later being in a moving vehicle and having something hit the back of his head, hard, causing everything to go black again.
Over the next five minutes, Peter struggled to keep on his tiptoes while all his memories fully returned and his grogginess disappeared. Tony Stark. That was the reason why he was here. Well not exactly, it was Ned's fault. Ned had called him to tell him about a raid going down by the docks and well, he needed pictures for the daily bugle, within the next 24 hours. So he went down there to snap some photos and pull himself out of a jam. The result was an even worse situation because it turned out it wasn't a police raid, it was a raid of the more illegal sort of one gang on another, and well he had been spotted.
And not just by anyone but by James Rhodes, Notorious mob boss, Tony Stark's right-hand man. So he did what anyone else would do and well… ran. He got away too. The only problem was he managed to drop his camera, which had his name on it. P. Parker. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Not only was it a hella expensive camera to drop, which probably broke on impact with the sidewalk, but it was like leaving behind Cinderella's glass slipper. All Rhodes had to do was pick it up and see who it fit.
On second thought it was the Daily Bugle's fault because if he hadn't needed those pictures then he wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. Peter shook his head, even to himself he couldn't lie. It was his fault. He was the one that got so wrapped up in school that he forgot about the picture deadline and what did he expect Jameson to give him a week extension? He was lucky enough to get 24 hours. Well, those 24 hours were up and instead of just getting fired it looked like he was going to get tortured and killed instead. At least he wouldn't have to worry about school anymore but he felt so bad for Aunt May, she had lost everyone and now she was going to lose her last living relative. And he would no longer be there to support her and care for her as he had planned. Now she would have to bury another relative.
He couldn't help it, tears pricked his eyes, he sniffed trying to keep them at bay but he couldn't hold them back. He could feel the first tear as it welled up and fell from his face to hit the floor by his feet. Followed by another and another. Soon he was hiccupping with every sob.
"Your such a beautiful little crier aren't you?" A voice spoke, causing Peter to jerk in his bonds and search frantically for where it was coming from. His eyes met those of a man of average height with a distinguished goatee. He knew who this was. It was none other than Mr. Tony Stark. Peter sniffed back his remaining tears. It was one thing to cry about his aunt when he was alone and tied up, it was something else crying in front of Tony Stark, who was dressed in a fancy three-piece suit, Italian leather shoes, and dark sunglasses.
Peter tried to turn his body to stone but he couldn't hide the shiver of fear that raced up his spine as Mr. Stark stepped closer to him. Stark stopped and used a hand to grab Peter's chin so he could examine his face more closely.
"It's too bad you were taking pictures, now I'll have to damage that pretty face of yours." Mr. Stark murmured as he let go of his chin and began to circle him, "and this pretty body too." Peter flinched as he felt Mr. Stark's hand stroke down his back.
"So you want to tell what an innocent thing like you was doing down by the docks with a camera? Hmm?" Mr. Stark said almost conversationally as he gave Peter a gentle push. Peter lost his little bit of a toe grip on the floor putting all the weight back on his arms making him cry out from the pain. When he finally got his feet back on the ground. Stark was watching him.
"I'm waiting, Peter Benjamin Parker." Mr. Stark said calmly. Peter flinched at the use of his full given name. "And I'm told I'm not a patient man."
"I…." Peter's voice came out weak and scratchy, he cleared his throat and tried again. "I didn't know your guys were gonna be down there. I thought it was gonna be a police raid or something. I didn't reali-" he was cut off by a slap across his face. The sound echoed around the room and he felt the sting on his cheek. Tears pricked his eyes again.
"I didn't ask what you knew or didn't know. I asked what you were doing." Tony said calmly, stepping back from Peter and pacing around him. "Try again, Peter."
"I was taking pictures but if you let me expla-" Another slap this time a backhand across the other cheek.
"Peter, I didn't ask you to defend yourself. I asked you what you were doing. If I have to explain to you how to answer a question one more time then I will do more than just backhand you." Mr. Stark said as he grabbed my chin forcing me to look into his eyes. "Do you understand?"
"Yes," Peter croaked.
"Yes, Sir" Mr. Stark corrected.
When Peter remained silent. Stark's expression turned dark and his fingers gripped Peter's chin bruisingly hard. "Do I have to teach you manners too?" Stark's voice dropped in volume and pitch causing a shiver to run up Peter's spine.
"No, Sir." Peter practically whispered out. A smile crossed Mr. Stark's face.
"Good boy" He praised as he let go of Peter's chin and patted the teen's cheek.
"Now, you were taking pictures. Why were you taking pictures?" Mr. Stark Continued.
"So I could keep my job at the Daily Bugle, Sir," Peter answered cringing back from Stark, Afraid of another slap.
Instead of a slap, Mr. Stark ran a soothing hand down his back almost in praise of his answer.
"That's a much better job as answering Peter, Good boy." Mr. Stark murmured. Peter couldn't help the flush of pleasure at the words and no slap. He tried to shake himself out of it. He just wanted to hopefully make it out of this alive and maybe he could go home and see Aunt May and then she wouldn't have to suffer at his death.
"Why would you lose your job at the Daily Bugle if you didn't have pictures from down at the docks?" Stark continued, as he circled Peter.
"Because I was late on delivering photos and my boss gave me 24 hours to deliver him quality pictures of something worth the front page," Peter spoke in a rush, hoping with all his might that it was the right answer to give, after all, it was the truth. Then he remembered and hastily tacked on "Sir."
"So you needed photos but it didn't matter what photos as long as they were newsworthy. Is that correct Peter?" Mr. Stark asked still walking around him.
"Yes, Sir." Peter nodded eagerly.
"Well, that begs the question of how you knew about the docks doesn't it," Stark said. It wasn't really a question but Stark had paused so Peter figured he was supposed to answer.
"My frie-" A slap across his face stopped him in his tracks yet again.
"Peter you were doing so well too. I haven't asked you anything yet have I. The rule is don't speak unless your answering a question." Stark sounded disappointed as he grabbed Peter's chin again in his unforgiving grip.
Tears pricked Peter's eyes again. Mr. Stark flipped through pain and soothing touches so fast it was hard to keep up emotionally with what was happening.
"Do you understand?" Tony asked as he looked Peter in the eyes.
"Yes, Sir" Peter whispered.
"Good boy."
The man let go of Peter's chin and started up his pacing walk around him once again.
"I'm assuming someone must have told you about the docks. So who told you, Peter?" Tony asked as he stopped in front of Peter looking at him sternly.
Oh shit, they wanted to know who told him. He couldn't give up Ned, they would hurt him, torture him.
Peter's eyes once again welled and he whimpered. If he didn't tell Mr. Stark what he wanted to know he was sure that he was going to hurt him, but if he did, then he would be putting Ned at risk.
"A friend, Sir." He finally tried, that was a middle ground he wasn't lying and he was technically answering the question, but he wasn't giving them Ned's name either. He saw the disappointment in Mr. Stark's eyes before the strike hit. It wasn't one slap this time but two.
"Peter, you knew I wanted a name but instead you deliberately disobeyed me. I find it honorable that you want to protect this friend of yours but the one thing I do not put up with is disobedience. I figured you would realize this by now as you have now disobeyed me for the fourth time. I'm not usually this patient, now I'm giving you one more time to tell me the truth, the whole truth, or you will get to see what I am like when I am out of patience." Mr. Stark said and waited with his hand again holding Peter's chin so he could see his eyes.
Peter wished to God that he could just give up Ned's name, or be able to suddenly reach out and kick Mr. Stark or immobilize him somehow, but he couldn't do either. He just couldn't. One option would hurt, a lot, but the other was unthinkable. The one thing that Peter knew about who and what he was, was loyal to a fault. He couldn't keep this emotional turmoil internal anymore, the tears that had been threatening to fall with each strike welled up and fell from his eyes. His breath came in and out of his lungs in short hiccupping gasps as he looked into Mr. Stark's eyes.
"I can't sir, I can't" he finally gasped out on one of his hiccupping breathes. Mr. Stark sadly shook his head.
"And you were so close to being a good boy. If you had given me the answer I wanted I would have let you go home, but it looks like I'm going to have to get the answer out of you another way." Mr. Stark let go of his chin as the words finally hit Peter. If he had been able to give up Ned he would have been able to go home. See his Aunt. Live through this. The hiccups got worse until he was practically hyperventilating. As he was in his own head he vaguely heard Tony leave, and then return.
He didn't know how much time had passed but he felt hands on his cheeks wiping away his tears and making soothing circles on his temples.
"Shhh shh I know this is hard, but you're going to learn that I don't put up with disobedience. Not from anyone." That was Mr. Stark's voice and hands, trying to calm him. As he slowly came back to himself he could hear the rattling of a radiator coming on and warmth starting to fill the room. He noticed that Mr. Stark had stripped off part of his suit. He now had on just a light grey dress shirt, his Italian leather shoes, and his suit slacks on. The suit jacket was gone as well as the sunglasses revealing the most beautiful brown eyes that Peter had ever seen.
The room had changed somewhat as well. Peter was still hanging from the ceiling but there was now a chair in the room and one of the T.V tables that can be folded up and stored in a closet. On it was something covered by a cloth. Maybe more than one something he couldn't really tell.
"There now that's better, can't have you going into a panic attack on me when I need your full concentration on me, and what's about to happen can I." Mr. Stark spoke smiling as he patted Peter on the cheek.
"I've turned on the heat so we can be more comfortable while I work, but you should know that there isn't much insulation in this old warehouse, so it probably won't get up to more than 60 degrees." Mr. Stark spoke as he moved back to roll up his shirt sleeves to the elbows. Showcasing forearms roped with muscle.
"I usually don't take such a personal interest in cases like your but you see, that whole… event down at the docks was a rather personal matter that I tried very hard to keep out of the public knowledge. So you will understand when I say that I have a very invested interest in finding out how you got this information." He continued to speak as he made his way over to the little table and pulled back the cloth revealing a pair of scissors, what looked like a flogger, a belt, a knife, and more rope.
Peter partial calm disappeared at the revealed items of torture. He started to panic again, this time thrashing in his bonds. He didn't want this, he wanted out NOW. He had forgotten how much his arms hurt though and cried out as he moved them. The pain wasn't enough to assuage the growing panic though. Instead, it just added to it. Peter started to shake violently along with his thrashing, he needed to get out of this, he needed to tell Stark anything to tell him he would be good so he wouldn't have those things used on him.
"Mr. Stark I'll tell you, I will just please don't hurt me, I'll talk, I tell you everything you want to know, I'll be good I swear. I wi-" He babbled uncontrollably as sobs returned with the hyperventilating making it harder and harder to speak.
Mr. Stark walked back over to him and grabbed Peter's sides gently so he would stop throwing himself around. He rubbed his sides soothingly and spoke in a calm murmur "I know you will Peter. I know you're trying so hard to be good for me, but you still need to be punished. Shh, shh, You need to be calm Peter. You want to be good for me right?" At Mr. Starks's words, Peter nodded emphatically. Of course, he wanted to be good.
"Then I want you to stop thrashing, I want you to stand still in your bonds for me, I want you to stop crying and just breathe for me. I want you to be calm for me." Mr. Stark said; as he continued to rub soothing circles along Peter's sides.
He could do that. He could stop thrashing and make his body go still. It was hard to stop the trembling but he could slow down his breathes and be quiet. Now he just needed to breathe slowly. He closed his eyes and focused on the way the room was warming and the feel of Mr. Stark's hands as they made soothing circles in his hip bones. That felt good, he could focus on that. When he was good he got touches like this. There was no pain when he was good.
"Good boy" Stark murmured in his ear. Peter realized that the reason he could feel Starks breath coating his ear was that his head was resting against Stark's shoulder, and it felt good to have his head resting there. It felt….safe, warm.
One last shiver raked up his spine as Peter finally got his body back under control. His forehead was still resting against Stark's shoulder and actually a lot of his weight. His legs were tired from being on tiptoe and so were his arms. It was so much easier just to lean into the warm man in front of him and stop thinking. Mr. Stark's hands were still on his hips, but hey had stopped moving and now they were just resting there.
"Are you ready now? Are you going to behave like the Good boy I know you are?" Mr. Stark asked. His breath tickled Peter's ears and he would have shivered if he weren't so relaxed. Was he ready? Peter was as ready as he was ever going to be so he took in a deep breath to steady himself, filling his nose and lungs with the scent of Mr. Stark. It was strong and clean with a hint of spice. All male. And nodded his head.
"Words Peter." Mr. Stark helpfully reminded him. Peter moved his head off of Mr. Stark and said: "Yes sir."
"Good boy"
Stark patted Peter's hip along with the words of praise.
"Now, you understand that you are still going to be punished for your disobedience and afterward I will give you another chance to answer the question. If you fail then you will be punished again, but more severely. Then after your punishment, you will be asked the question again, if you fail to answer you will receive another punishment and so on and so forth. Remember the punishments will increase in their severity and permanence until you understand what it means to be obedient. Do you understand?" Mr. Stark asked.
"Yes, sir."
Peter was not looking forward to this but if he could make it through the first punishment all he had to do was answer the question and he wouldn't be punished anymore. He could do this.
"Good, then let's get started." Mr. Stark said as he clapped his hands together. He moved over to the little table and picked up the pair of scissors lying there.
Peter wasn't expecting Stark to start with the scissors, this was only the first round, this wasn't good, he didn't know if he could make it through this.
"Hold still. I don't want to cut you." Tony said as he approached with the scissors in his right hand. Peter tried to hold as still as possible as Mr. Stark grabbed the hem of his old, thin, white T-shirt and started cutting it. He cut up the middle of the shirt until he was at Peter's chest then angled it so he went up the left side of Peter's body to the sleeve and all the way to the end. When he finished he went back to Peter's chest grabbed the shirt and cut up to the other sleeve until the shirt fell off of Peter. Peter shivered as the cold touched his now naked skin.
"There that's better." Mr. Stark said as he put the scissors in his back pocket and reached up to run his hands down Peter's now naked upper torso.
Peter shivered again at the contact of warm hands on his cool, naked skin. He'd never been touched like this by someone else. It felt weird, but not bad.
Stark walked around him and ran his hands along his back in the same way.
"Your skin is going to look so pretty with my marks on you." He heard Tony say quietly. He didn't think Mr. Stark was talking to him. It sounded more like he was talking to himself. He walked back over to the table and picked up the flogger. Then walked over to what looked like the light switches. Peter absently wondered why there were three when there was only one hanging light bulb in the room.
Stark flipped the middle one and there was a grinding sound as he felt his arms lower from the ceiling. He looked up to see that that was exactly what was happening. The hook was lowering by a chain from the ceiling. The grinding sound stopped when Peter felt the heels of his sneakers make contact with the floor.
"That's a better height for this. Now, Peter, I'm going to flog you ten times, for your first punishment. I want you to count them out loud and then thank me for them after each one. I'm going to do a practice one first to see that you understand." Mr. Stark said as he walked behind Peter.
Peter could hear the swishing sound of the flogger as it was swung lazily back and forth. He tried to look back at Mr. Stark but was blocked by his arms that were still being held above his head. It wasn't as high as before but still taught enough that he wasn't able to move them out of his way.
"Remember count out what number it is, then thank me, each time."
There was a louder swishing sound than the impact, it hurt more than Peter was expecting. Granted Peter had a horrible pain tolerance but still. He cried out in shock and surprise and nearly forgot Mr. Stark's instructions, but he remembered just in time.
"One. Uh thank you, Mr. Stark?" He added unsure if that was the correct way to do this.
Stark chuckled behind him and ran a hand along the place he had flogged on Peter's back.
"You will say thank you, sir."
"Thank you, Sir." Peter corrected himself.
"Good boy." was murmured into Peter's ear before Stark's body disappeared from where it had been pressed into his back. "Now for real this time." Was the only warning Peter got before he heard an even faster swishing sound and felt a much stronger impact this time on his lower back.
His body arched involuntarily shooting Peter up on his toes as he cried out again. Damn that hurt. Oh right.
"One," yea he was back at one, the first one had been practice, this was the real punishment. "Thank you, Sir."
"Good boy." was the only answer received. His mind was flushed with relief, he was doing this right.
"Oh, and I should tell you now if you forget to count or say thank you we start again from one." Mr. Stark said conversationally as the next blow landed, this time on his upper back.
"Two, thank you, sir." Peter squeaked as his body again arched away from the pain.
The next three blows came fast making it a little hard for Peter to keep up but he managed.
"Three, thank you, Sir."
"Four, thank you, Sir."
"Five, thank you, Sir."
Six and seven were worse than the first five. They were harder and hit in the same place on his middle back.
"Six, thank you, Sir!"
Seven, thank you, Sir!"
At this point Peter was crying and shaking again. He sagged in his bonds after seven trying to catch his breath through the hiccups.
Eight hit hard across his already aching shoulders, causing Peter to keen in pain.
"Eight, thank you,... Sir." He managed to gasp out, just in time.
Nine landed again on his abused shoulders just as hard as eight had, causing him to almost scream in pain.
"Nine, Sir thank you, Sir!" He babbled through tears, shaking even more violently than before.
He was almost done just one more, one more he could do this.
Ten landed squarely in the center of his back. It was the hardest blow yet. He screamed and arched away from the pain as far as he could.
"Ten, Sir, thank you!" He sagged fully letting the ropes take his full weight as gentle hands caressed the red marks along his back.
"Beautiful." Peter didn't know if he just imagined the fervent whisper or not. He was still too out of it from the pain.
He did feel the arms that wrapped around his naked waist and pull him into a hug from behind. The hands that skimmed his lower belly just underneath his belly button causing another shiver to run down his spine. His back was on fire. And the hands brushing across his skin felt, not exactly soothing, more ticklish and restless like they couldn't get enough of his skin.
"Good boy, you did so well." The murmured voice in his ear soothed the pain more than anything else could. That flush of relief and pleasure that there would be no more pain. That ee did well. He was a good boy. He leaned into the hug, leaned into the reward of being a good boy.
He heard the quiet chuckle that Mr. Stark let out. "Are you going to be an obedient good boy and tell me what you know? Are you going to be my good boy?"
The last question stood out to Peter but he couldn't figure out why. He was too far gone to care about anything but being good. So he just nodded his head and then rested it back against Sir's shoulder.
"Tell me who told you about the docks?" Mr. Stark's hands still skimmed up and down his belly and waist, tracing his semi-formed abs with a light fleeting touch. That felt good. And being held felt good too. It put some relief on his legs and even a little on his arms and shoulders too.
"My friend told meeee..., Sir." Peter's voice came out slurred and heavy, his eyelids felt heavy too so he let them close. His tongue felt weird and fat in his mouth.
"He tolddd me that there... wazzz going to be a raid dooooown... by the docksss, I thooought... he meannnnnt a policccccce raid" Peter continued his voice slurring even more.
Mr. Stark hummed from behind him. Peter could feel the sound reverberating in the chest he was leaning back against.
"I need a name, Peter. What's the name of your friend?"
Peter's forehead scrunched. There was a reason he wasn't supposed to tell Sir that, but he couldn't remember, and it really wasn't all that important. He wanted to be a good boy. And good boy's answered questions when asked.
"Ned, sir."
Another hum escaped Mr. Stark's lips, this time in satisfaction. "What is Ned's last name my good boy?"
Peter didn't usually use last names Ned was always just… Ned.
"Leeds" Peter remembered "Edward Leeds, But I just call him Ned."
"That's my good boy." Peter smiled at the praise. He felt lips brush his cheek, right in front of his ear.
Tony looked down at the half-naked boy practically cradled in his arms. This was just going to be another normal interrogation session, but from the second he had seen the boy's face covered in tears as he walked in, gasping for breath, he had known he was lost. Tony had many things, there was very little in life he wanted and when there was, well he took it. It was what made him who he was.
But he had never anticipated wanting something so…unexpected. He liked to play with his partners just like anyone else. So what if he a sadistic streak in him, so what if he liked to see someone break under his touch. He blamed it on his father. He just had never expected to walk into a room and want to tear someone apart from the inside out. It didn't hurt that the boy had zero pain tolerance. One slap and the boy was ready to break down and cry. But what made it better, or maybe worse was the way the boy melted at a gentle touch and a word of praise. It would be so easy to turn this boy into his very own pet.
And if all that was not enough the way the boy was so trusting; leaning against him after being punished cinched it. He was never letting this boy go, damned be the consequences.
Tony Stark was going to make little Peter Benjamin Parker his.