Peter took a nice long cold shower, shaving places he had never shaved before. Everywhere, Brock had said. Was that a fancy way of saying to shave his undercarriage or was he supposed to shave his legs, too? Arms? Definitely armpits.

When he was assigned his room, he hadn't thought much about there being no lock on it. Now he wished there was one. Fifty hundred thousand dollars. It didn't look nearly as big as he had thought it would, but he counted it. It was exact.

He wasn't sure what to do. He could take the money and run. He'd be set for life.

He thought of Wanda. "It gets worse, trust me."

And Brock. Rumlow. Daddy. Peter didn't get the feeling he would be particularly pleased if Peter left.

Peter hid the cash under his mattress and looked at the time. 11:30. He remembered no one has answered what they did in their downtime here. Perhaps they were allowed to leave. But not now when the soldiers were coming in.

He wandered to where the lounge was. It looked like it belonged in a college rather than a brothel. There were computers and desks, couches, a television, video games, a bar, fooseball and pool tables. Scott and Pietro were playing fooseball and Wanda watched television looking bored. Peter went and sat next to her.

"What happened with Rumlow?" She asked.

"He gave me lots of money and told me to call him Daddy."

"He must like you. This is not good," Wanda said.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

"James is his favourite. James doesn't talk much, you'll notice."

Peter wondered what kinds of things Brock had done to James. Did the metal arm have anything to do with it?

"Sorry, Scott. You lose. Again," Pietro said.

"I've got winner," Wanda said, going to play with Pietro.

"Attention, Peter. You are required in the basement," JARVIS said over the intercom.

"Aw, man. I'm sorry, bro," Scott said.

Pietro looked down.

"Good luck," Wanda said.

Peter didn't know why they were acting like he was a dead man walking, but he assumed it couldn't be good. He the stairs to the basement, ominous and so dark when he descended far enough he couldn't see anything.

"Hello, Peter."

"Daddy?"

The lights flickered on, but it wasn't a whole lot brighter. Bright enough that Peter could make out Brock's face and all kinds of equipment. He wasn't sure what some of it was even for.

"I've been thinking," Rumlow said. "I would like to take your virginity before we have guests tonight."

Peter looked down at his shoes.

"Don't look so glum, Kitten."

"Sorry, Daddy…"

"I'll be gentle. This time. We can't have you out of sorts for our special guests," Brock continued. "Undress."

Peter took off his shirt and slid his shoes off. Brock watched quietly and Peter wondered why he wanted this. He unzipped his jeans and removed his boxers with them, revealing a skinny, ever so pale body.

"I'm going to tie you up."

"OK," Peter said. He should have took the money and ran.

Brock led Peter over to some kind of bondage equipment. He put thick leather cuffs around Peter's wrists extending the well over his head. He could not move his wrists apart from each other and they cuffs were high enough that he was barely tall enough for his feet to reach the ground. Brock gave him a pat on the rear. Peter moaned and squirmed, the leather chaffing his wrists.

"Shh, Peter."

Brock was behind him, which was not at all comforting to Peter. He had no idea what was coming. Well… He had some ideas, but he wouldn't know when they were coming.

One of Brock's hands traced Peter's collarbone and down his chest, his stomach, finally groping Peter's cock. Peter closed his eyes and thought about Tony.

"Do I not please you, Peter?" Brock asked.

Peter wasn't sure if this was a trick question or not. Was he supposed to answer or stay quiet? Brock's hand slid up Peter's cock slowly. Peter said nothing. He tried to force himself to get hard, but it wouldn't go.

Brock's hand left him and though Peter could feel Rumlow's presence behind him, the man said nothing and did nothing for what seemed like forever.

And then Peter felt two cold wet fingers inside him. "Oh…" he said. That wasn't too bad. Not bad at all.

"Relax, Peter. Daddy loves you."

Peter made a strange noise halfway between a moan and a whine. He was confused. So confused. Brock couldn't love him. Why would he say that?

"Is there something you would like to tell me?" Brock said, his fingers probing Peter a bit rougher now. Peter felt some kind of strange feeling in his nether regions, but he couldn't identify if it were arousal or not.

Then Peter realized. He was supposed to tell Brock that he loved him. The thought made him sick to his stomach, but he didn't know what would happen if he didn't say the words.

"I love you, Daddy."

"Good boy," Brock said approvingly. For some reason, the approval felt good.

Then there was something much bigger than fingers inside Peter. He cursed out several profanities, his wrists struggling to free themselves, though he knew they wouldn't. Brock gripped his hips tight and pounded into him relentlessly.

This was supposed to be gentle?

Peter cried out over and over again. "Daddy," he whined. He felt as if he were being torn apart. Worse, his dick was no longer hanging limply, but a soldier at attention. He wished Brock would finish as quick as Tony did.

Brock slowed down, his thrusts less forceful. "Mmm…" Peter said. This was nicer. Brock grabbed a handful of Peter's hair and whispered into his ear. "You are mine. Understood?"

"Yes, Daddy…"

"Come for me, Peter."

Brock pushed into him slowly and rhythmically. It felt… Pleasant. Peter longed to touch himself.

You're a teenage boy, Peter. You come when a breeze hits you. Just do it.

"Peter."

Brock went slower, gentler. Peter mumbled something about his "Daddy" as he felt his release rush over him. He didn't realize how relieved he was. He had been clenching his jaw and struggling. Now he relaxed as the strange sensation floated through him. It felt strangely… Smooth.

"Daddy…"

"Good boy, Peter. It's okay now."

Brock pulled out and Peter didn't understand what was happening. Why wasn't Brock touching him anymore? Peter whimpered.

"Darling, you did good. It's time to rest up."

Peter heard Brock zip up. It wasn't fair. It wasn't over yet. Peter scolded himself. Why did he care?

"Wanda will be down to untie you, shortly," Brock said. "I expect you to bathe again before we have company."

"Yes, Daddy," Peter said, feeling utterly defeated.