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Raise Some Hell Before We Go

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  Rumlow was fucked

  He'd been a slave for three months, on sale at a warehouse-market for two. Every day, people came by to look at him, though many didn't stay for long. He was too expensive for most people to afford, though not expensive enough for the collectors. He was also an Alpha, which automatically decreased his potential for buyers. His best hope was that someone would want him to use for labor, or perhaps some sort of alpha-cest. Apparently, the U.S. was becoming more accepting of same-designation pairings since his time off-country, but that didn't mean Rumlow had to like it. 

  And then the last sort of person Rumlow had expected to see walked up to his cage.

  "Hmm," the woman said, making a disgusted face towards his price tag. She appeared to be of average height, though it was hard to tell from Rumlow's place on the ground, and had a lean, generally uninteresting body. Her hair was light caramel brown-- maybe a natural color, but it was hard to tell-- and she was wearing skinny jeans, combat boots, and a blue raincoat. She was also, telling by her scent, an Omega. 

  "Is he virile?" She asked the attendant standing behind her. 

  "Yes ma'am," he said, sounding desperate to please. 

  The woman huffed, obviously not happy with this fact. "That'd be another expense, then. Has he had any procedures done? What's his dental history?" 

  "No procedures done, ma'am, and he has a clean dental history. A clean medical history overall; he would work well as a labor slave, or as a sex slave, if that is what he'd be used for. Um, just wondering, would you be buying him for a partner perhaps, or--" 

  "I don't have a partner," the woman cut off, sharp. "He'd be for personal use." 

  The male attendant's cheeks reddened. "Ah. I see." 

  Rumlow felt his own face twist up in disgust. The woman was, what, an unbonded omega looking for some fun? It was unheard of, and somehow so much worse because she was a woman. She should be focused on finding a mate, not a slave. 

  The male attendant was looking more nervous by the second. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I do have to inform you that unbounded Omegas aren't allowed to buy--" 

  "Oh, I have my pink card," she said, digging a card from her pocket and presenting it to the attendant without looking, her eyes still locked on Rumlow, a predator assessing potential prey. "I'm legally an independent, no bonding required." 

  The attendant didn't seem to love this, but his worry did somewhat cease. "Oh. Um, under what stipulation--?" 

  "I have powers," the woman said, her words as sharp and insistent as they'd been the entire conversation. If it weren't for her scent, and admittedly, her stature, Rumlow might have guessed at a different designation. "Has he had any behavioral issues?" 

  The woman stayed in front of Rumlow's cage for a few more minutes, continuing to ask questions about his health, his demeanor, his aptitude, and then finally walked away without another word. Rumlow thought he'd seen the last of her, until nearly half an hour a gaggle of attendants appeared, taking him from his cage and leading him to a separate room. There, he was collared, given a pair of low-waisted jeans (with no underwear), a t-shirt, and some cheap sneakers. He was made to kneel, and then the woman came in. 

  "Rumlow," she said, testing out the name like she was considering taking it for herself. "My name is Wanda Maximoff. You will refer to me as 'mistress' or 'ma'am', is that understood?" Rumlow nodded, side-eyeing the electric baton one of the guards was holding. "Good. I'm about to take you home with me, and there we'll discuss your new life, understood? Fair warning, I don't like being take-back to. Now, what do you say?" 

  Rumlow swallowed, feeling nauseous. He hadn't known what he expected from being sold, but it wasn't this. On the bright side, if she was an omega she probably wouldn't be too hard on him. "Yes ma'am." 

  She gave a curt nod and gestured for him to stand. He did, instantly noting that he was taller than her, and she thanked the attendants and walked straight towards the exit, snapping at Rumlow to follow. He did, but with furrowed brows. That was it? She wasn't going to bind his ankles, cuff him, leash him? Wasn't she afraid of him running?

  As soon as Rumlow saw the open air, he wanted to run. He considered running. But something about Wanda's confidence made him uneasy. She wasn't even looking back to make sure he was following, for fuck's sake. What game was she playing?

  Whatever game she was playing, she was sure of her victory, so Rumlow decided to trust it for now. He wouldn't cause problems, not until he knew her deal. Besides, if she was always this trusting, it wouldn't be hard to run away later on.  

  So he followed her, head down to keep the light sprinkle of rain out of his face. She pulled the hood of her jacket up, putting her hands in her pockets. 

  Wanda walked a couple of blocks until they were along the main road, and then stepped into the street to hail a cab. One pulled over quickly, and Wanda opened the door, looking at Rumlow pointedly. Like a smuck, he climbed in, grabbing onto the handhold by the window. Wanda slid in behind him and told the driver the address. 

  The driver looked at them in the rearview mirror a few times throughout the ride, his nose twitching. Rumlow couldn't blame him; female alphas weren't the most common, and with enough scenting it should be clear that Wanda wasn't an Alpha at all. And yet, she still acted like it, bossing Rumlow around with her looks and gestures, despite the fact that he was bigger than her, and an Alpha. 

   Maybe this could be a good thing after all, Rumlow thought, looking at Wanda out of the corners of his eyes. She was moderately pretty, the more he looked, and her masquerading as an Alpha when she wasn't made him want to put her in her place. It shouldn't even be hard. 

  Wanda caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow. Rumlow looked away. 

  They got to an apartment building before long, and Wanda lead them up the elevator to the 12th floor, where her apartment was down another two hallways. She didn't watch him as she unlocked the door, twisting the knob with sharp movements. 

   She's on the edge of her seat, Rumlow thought. But what did that mean? Was she desperate to get started? Scared of what Rumlow would do?

  She should be scared. Rumlow wasn't interested in being some Omega's playtoy. As soon as there was a clear opening, he was going to remind her who was the Alpha here.  

  She set some of her things down on the counter, then snapped her fingers at Rumlow. "Kneel in the living room. I'll be there in a minute." 

  Rumlow made a face at that, but when she met his gaze, he went. 

  The apartment seemed pretty small, with a little kitchenette, a basic living room with a couch against the wall, a delicate looking-armchair, and a flatscreen tv across from the couch. There was a bookshelf shoved in the corner, a small coffee table shoved to the side, but not much else. The windows let in a cold sort of light, but otherwise the apartment was pretty dim, no lights on. Rumlow's hair was still wet from the rain. 

  He was kneeling when she came back over, flopping in the armchair by the window with an exhale. She rubbed her temples, then waved him closer. "Come here. Crawl." 

  Rumlow had been all ready to obey the order before she said 'crawl'. Out of everything he'd been made to do in his captivity, crawling had always been one of the most humiliating, and he wasn't going to prostrate himself like that to some random omega girl. So he scowled and held his ground. 

  She waited for a few moments, unimpressed, then got up. He half figured she'd slap him-- and it wouldn't hurt, just look at those spindly arms-- but instead she just walked past him, going into the hallway he assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. A moment later she returned, dragging an opaque plastic box behind her. She dropped it a few feet from him and began pulling objects from it, laying them on the carpet. "This is a humbler," she narrated, setting down a long piece of curved metal. "This part goes around your balls. I'm told it's painful, though of course I wouldn't know. This is a ball gag. A body harness. A cock ring. A cock cage-- now, we might have to use this sooner than later. A vibrator. A dental gag. Rope, for bondage and suspension. A corset-- this one's made of latex, though I do have a leather one somewhere around here. A flogger. A dildo. This one can be attached to a harness that I can use to fuck you with. Another flogger." 

  Rumlow tried his best to keep his expression flat, but he couldn't help the way his eyes widened in horror at some of the things. He'd experienced some pretty awful things while being processed before he could be sold as a slave, but these things here weren't for a necessary purpose, like the crawling and enemas had been. These things… they were just used for humiliation, for pain. They were the tools of a sadist. 

  Wanda sat on the ground in front of Rumlow, the two of them separated by rows of toys and implements. "I intend to use all of these on you, eventually. The intensity, and the duration of each, however, is up to you. If you behave, I'll be courteous. If you don't…" she shrugged, picking up what had been previously described as an 'anal speculum' from the ground. "I haven't had many opportunities to experiment with the male body. I'm interested to learn." 

  Without his express permission, Rumlow found his mouth opening, voice coming out harsh and dry from disuse. "You disgust me." 

  Wanda tilted her head to the side. "Now, I already told you about how I expect you to refer to me. How about you try that again?"

  Rumlow's frown deepened. She couldn't be serious, could she? "You disgust me… mistress." 

  "So much better," Wanda insisted, standing. "Now, I'd like you to put all of the toys back in the box, and then return the box to my room. There's a spot between my dresser and mirror that it goes, you can't miss it. While you work on that, I've got some appointments to make."


  Rumlow did as he was told, mostly because he was too scared not to. Wanda went back into the kitchen to make some calls, which he largely tuned out as his attention was drawn into all of the contraptions on the floor. Some definitely scared him more than others-- anything that was supposed to be used in or around his genitals, particularly. He ended up hiding the cock cage under the couch, instead of putting it back in the box. Hopefully, his new mistress would never find it. 

  He put the box away, taking the opportunity to survey the apartment a little more, then went back into the living room, sitting on the couch against one armrest, his arms crossed. He listened in to the phone conversation in the kitchen-- Wanda was saying something about adding on to her current insurance policy-- but it was getting hard to concentrate. The day had been exhausting, and he hadn't eaten or drank anything since breakfast.

  Thankfully, a few minutes later there was a knock on the door. "Excuse me a second, delivery's here," Wanda said into the phone, setting it aside to get the door. She brought it a bag of Chinese takeout, paying the delivery man, and picked up her phone again, wrapping up the discussion within the next few minutes. Rumlow's stomach turned over as he could smell the food, but couldn't get to it yet. 

  Finally, the call ended and Wanda walked into the living room, takeout bag and bottles of water in tow. She sat on the other side of the couch-- there was no kitchen or dining room table, Rumlow realized-- and passed him food and water. "The man at the market said you didn't have any allergies," she said, already picking up a pair of chopsticks. "Do you have any other issues with food?" 

  "I sometimes have digestive issues with Indian food?" Rumlow said, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. 

  Wanda nodded. "Noted. I don't get too much Indian food anyways; it shouldn't be a problem."

  They didn't talk as they ate. There was soft music coming from somewhere that kept the apartment from feeling too quiet, and the entire place smelled like incense. Wanda turned a few lamps on as the sun set outside the large window, but otherwise they just ate.

  When Rumlow was done, he drank half his water bottle, washing down the lingering taste of spicy noodles. Wanda had finished a few minutes before, and was leaning back against the opposite armrest, watching Rumlow with a much less aggressive gaze than she'd had on for the rest of the day. 

  After a few minutes, her mouth opened to speak, and she said something Rumlow really wasn't expecting to hear. "Can I touch you?" 

  He swallowed, eyeing her wearily. She owned him, so she didn't really have to ask. If she's giving him the choice, he should just say no, make her leave him alone. But…

  Rumlow looked at her again, closely. Nothing about her body was impressive, nothing incredibly beautiful. Aesthetically, she was plain. And yet, there was something there that made him intrigued. 

  It was probably just the fact that she was an Omega; Rumlow didn't make a habit of turning Omega's down. Her attitude frustrated him too; she should be the one subjugating herself here, not him. He needed to put her in her place. 

  So he nodded, said "Sure," and she came over to him, standing while he was sitting. She cupped his cheek in one of her small, narrow hands, then felt his hair between his fingers. He couldn't help closing his eyes; he always loved when people played with his hair. Then, Wanda climbed onto his lap, straddling him with her knees, and kissed him. 

  Rumlow let out a puff of air in surprise, but kissed back. Their lips fit together well, moving in a clumsy harmony as they tried to understand each other's rhythm. 

  Rumlow clasped his hands around her waist, squeezing tightly, and tried to push his tongue into her mouth. He knew how this game went, had had plenty of omegas insist they were 'strong' and 'independent', only to fall to his feet in a sniveling mess at the first sign of domination. Some Omegas just needed it, and Rumlow was happy to provide that service. 

  When he tried to push his tongue in though, Wanda made a displeased noise, digging her hand into his hair and pulling back. It hurt, and Rumlow pulled his tongue back, but Wanda didn't stop kissing him, hand still fisted in the hair at the base of his scalp. 

   Okay, Rumlow thought, still doing his best to kiss back. Let's try something else. 

  Slowly, he pushed her backward, trying to make it so he was on top of her, in control. Wanda allowed it for a moment, then pushed back, laying a hand firmly on his chest. "That's not how this game works," she whispered before diving back in, pulling his hair even harder now. Rumlow let out a soft whimper at the tugging, and she loosened her grip, allowing the kissing to continue comfortable for another few moments. Then she scooted her knees forwards more, rolling her hips against his crotch--

  And pulled back, hissing. "Seriously, you're already hard?" 

  Rumlow blinked at her. Well, yeah, he thought, you're an omega and we've been kissing for like, ten minutes. The only words that came out though were "Uh…" 

  Wanda shook her head, carefully extracting herself from Rumlow's lap. "We'll deal with that tomorrow. Get up, we should both be going to bed anyway."

  Rumlow scrambled after her, following her down the hallway. She directed him to the bathroom, saying "There's an extra toothbrush under the sink, make use of it," and continuing on to the bedroom. 

  Rumlow took care of his business in the bathroom, taking a few minutes to look in the mirror-- it'd been a while since he last saw his reflection-- before exiting. Wanda was waiting, wearing a slip of a dress, and pushed past him to use the bathroom next. He watched her until the door blocked his view. 

  There was a t-shirt and boxers on the bed, which he changed into, even though the boxers were blue-checkered and loose, nothing like he'd normally wear. He then waited on the edge of the bed until Wanda came back in. 

  She was rubbing her temples like she had a migraine. She frowned when she saw Rumlow, and in an effortless move looped her finger through his collar and jerked him onto the carpet. "This is where you sleep," she said, attaching a leash to the collar and padlocking it in a few quick, practiced moves. "I'll get you a pillow." 

  "I could sleep on the bed with you," Rumlow offered, trying to project intense Alpha-mojo.

  She smiled at him, like he was amusing, and rubbed the side of her head some more. "Funny. Do your best not to snore, I'd appreciate it." 

  She retrieved a spare blanket and pillow from the closet, and tossed them to him before climbing into bed, and turning the lights out, leaving them in the dark.