A/N: Thank you everyone for your continued support. I wasn't expecting this much interest to occur for my story, and receiving such positive feedback has really helped bring my esteem up and have the will to continue writing.

Every minute seems to stretch on for hours, the time (creeping) slowly, almost still altogether. Loki continues to sit on the floor as his body regains control of itself and gets oxygen moving through his bloodstream again. When feeling and consciousness return Loki forces his thoughts back to the task at hand: washing the floors.

The idea of crawling around on the floor like an animal and mopping dirt still disgusts and repels him. He is a God! Yet here he is, lowering himself not only to the Midgardian level, but the equivalent of a slave of a Midgardian. Yet a part of him actually wants to complete the chore. The small rational part which overrides his sense of grandeur and his pride. Loki's encounters with a very unhappy Tony haven't been full of joy and happiness. No, in fact they have been getting worse and worse every new day, every new task. So now that small rational part of his brain is forcing Loki to reconsider his behaviour and think before acting.

At first it wasn't so bad, he was willing to put up with Tony's tantrums as long as he was left alone in the end. Being from Asgard, Loki's able to handle a couple of beatings – after all he's had much worse back in Asgard in the past millennia and survived. But if these beatings turn constant, Loki won't be having such a pleasant time. He'll be able to tolerate and survive the punishments, but each time the pain will be worse. His magic needs time to heal him, but with every abuse the process will take longer, making the pain more vivid and last longer. So maybe he can comply with Tony's whims, just to avoid all of that. He's suffered enough in the past, in the dungeon in Asgard, in the palace. His whole life has been nothing but suffering, and now there is a way to avoid all that.

Letting out a long sigh Loki slowly gets up and heads over to the bucket which is waiting for him a few feet away. Deliberately he makes his movements as slow as possible, stalling time, but knowing it's a futile effort.

In fact, he should consider himself lucky instead of sulking and wallowing in self-pity and hatred. Looking back on all the times he disobeyed Tony and talked back at him, he barely has a scratch. Had he been in Asgard, his master would have beaten him to near-death, leaving him a pile of broken bones. Not to mention the whipping he would have received, and the lack of food, meaning his body wouldn't have been able to regenerate its strength fast enough. And still he would have been forced to work, completing all assigned duties, or else another punishment would follow suit.

In a twisted way, Loki should be grateful for such soft punishments. He knows all too well what life should be like for him now, he inflicted it on others one too many times to count.

Letting out a frustrated growl the god bends down to pick up the bucket, hating it more and more by the second. Not only does it remind him of what he's about to do, but the vibrant red colour mocks him, reminding Loki of Thor. He has a sudden urge to kick and smash the bucket until nothing but tiny pieces remain.

It's a rational anger. After all, Thor was the one who reject him, cast him aside into the shadows, and now sent him here, to Midgard, to suffer in the hands of one of his friends. Loki still remembers his not-brother's face during the trial...a look of emptiness and apathy written on his features. Family doesn't treat each other like this. This isn't family.

He comes back to reality when the bucket hits the bathtub. Looking down he notices his shaking hands, realizing his whole body is trembling with anger. Tears fill his eyes, but Loki wills them away, refusing to cry. Scowling at himself and all the memories which taunt him, he fills the bucket with water and continues with his task.

Without a second thought Loki gets right down to it. He's seen servants clean and wash floors; he knows how it's done. There were days where Loki would sit in his room and simply stare at the servants, watching how they completed their tasks out of sheer boredom.

And so Loki crawls around the living room on all fours, dragging the rag and bucket around, washing every single inch of the floor. It's so humiliating, a god and a prince – or former prince – on his knees and doing a Midgardian's dirty chores. He's been tortured and humiliated before by friends and Thor and enemies, but he's never felt this before. This...disgrace and degration.

With every move Loki's head fills with whispers and sneers and jabs at his pride and self-worth and uselessness. So Loki pushes the rag in front of him harder, wiping the floor with more force, cleaning under everything he can move and under everything he can reach.

Runt.

The couch.

Failure.

The coffee table.

Shadow.

The chairs.

Frost Giant.

The bookshelf.

By the time Loki's finished the voices have faded away into nothingness and his memories no longer taunt him. But now his mind is back in reality and he thinks of what he just did. He feels like crying, thinking about having completed such a mundane task, but wills the tears away. Loki slumps down beside the bucket and just sits there, staring at the floor with a vacant expression.

Lost in his trance-like state Loki doesn't hear the chime of the elevator or the footsteps approaching him. At the sudden hand on his shoulder, Loki jerks back, scrambling to stand up. The bucket flies a little way across the room, a small piece of red plastic falling on the floor.

"Well, would you look at that. Cinderella finally understands her place."

Loki stands across from Tony, eyes cast to the ground and heart pounding so loud he's sure Tony could hear it. Of course Loki doesn't startle easily, but with his mind flying somewhere in the realm of memories, he completely let his guard down. For a while he had forgotten about Tony and why he was here and the life that went on around him.

"My warnings finally got through that thick skull of yours. You know, I was worried I'd have to start using different measures to get you to listen. Even thought about trying to get a hold of Thor, but then I figured I should try some of my other methods. I'm glad to know you understand your place, Princess, it was getting annoying dealing with your fucked up tantrums and shit…"

God Tony, way to make him feel safer. "Other measures?" The hell you planning on doing, whipping him?

Shit, no don't think about that. It wasn't your fault, you were drunk and you didn't know you were beating him. Be happy he finally obeys; you don't have to use any "other measures". Breathe.

Suddenly Loki turns around and walks off in the direction of his room. His mind screams at him to turn back, but he ignores it. His body's tense, expecting a blow to come with each step he takes or Tony's voice ordering him to return. But neither happens. Making it safely to his room, the god closes the door and curls up on his bed.

A few minutes after Loki's ungraceful and hasty exit, Tony hears a scream from none other but the god of mischief. Smiling to himself, Tony can't help but feel proud and accomplished, having finally "tamed" Loki into obedience. Serves him right, now he knows how people in Stuttgart felt.

Turning around and sweeping his eyes over the room, Tony doesn't expect much. After all, Loki was a prince; he probably never held a dirty piece of clothing in his hands. But as he looks at the room, his jaw drops.

The floor is literally almost sparkling, looking as if it hasn't been touched or stepped on with not a single speck of dust visible anywhere.

A/N: I've been reading some fics lately, and I noticed that my chapter are actually rather short. I'll be trying to make them longer, and I doubt any of you would want to read a story that's 100 chapters long anyway.

Reviews are greatly appreciated. They keep me writing and help me figure out what you guys want. Fanservice at its finest :)