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“Slavery?” Steve murmured, and if this wasn’t a cruel joke, he’s not sure what he'll do. “That’s not...that’s not something that exists anymore. Not here.”

“Yes, here,” Fury said. “Depending on circumstances.”

“But...” Steve felt as if he was in shock. “You can’t possibly...”

“I can’t possibly approve for historical reasons?” Fury replied as if by rote. “This isn’t based on skin color, or what religion you are, or any of those things. That would be un-American.” Fury shook his head as if he was making sense and Steve was the crazy one. “It’s purely based on financial obligation now. Stark Industries spent a great deal of money on search and recovery to bring you back up. Millions of dollars.”

They shouldn’t have bothered, if he was to be a slave in return, Steve thought to himself bitterly.

“...not to mention the investment in you initially, with the Vita-Ray process. You’re a piece of their R&D, Rogers. You’re one lucky bastard that it’s Stark who owns you. You don’t realize that now, but just wait.”

Steve didn’t feel lucky at all. He had been implanted with some kind of neural chip, they’d said, that that temporarily blocked the strength and speed effects of the serum. He wasn’t any stronger than he had been before Project Rebirth. Though he looked the same and apparently wouldn’t have to suffer asthma, he could barely manage a few pushups. He was as weak as a kitten, or rank or not, he’d have knocked Fury over and made a run for it.

Fury continued: “You can read up on the history later, if your master allows it, and I suspect he might, though I can’t say for sure. At any rate, he’ll be here...” he checked his watch “...shortly, so you’ll have to be prepared and medically cleared.” Fury motioned at the door and the SHIELD doctor he’d met earlier entered. “I’ll just leave you alone.”

Steve nodded as Fury left the room. He felt numb. The doctor looked at him kindly and indicated his wrists, bound to the the armrests of the reclining chair. “Chafing, huh?” she said. “You shouldn’t struggle; you’re just going to hurt yourself, and Mr Stark won’t want damaged merchandise.”

“Good,” Steve muttered, and the doctor raised an eyebrow.

“By all accounts, and there’s actually...well, it’s a tell-all book...Tony Stark is an excellent master,” she frowned at him. “He even freed and promoted a loyal assistant after many years of service. He’s famous; that sort of thing gets publicity.”

Steve was silent. Would he be expected to be Stark’s new assistant? It wasn’t like he’d be good for manual labor unless his master...his stomach twisted at the word..took the chip out. Then, he supposed he could work in one of the man’s weapons factories or something.

At least Stark Industries made weapons for the War Department, or, it was called something else now. Department of Defense. Steve wasn’t convinced that a society with slaves was worth defending so much anymore, but he supposed it could have been worse; he could have been recovered by the Nazis or HYDRA and been their slave instead.

If he had to be owned, being some billionaire’s (not just any billionaire -- Howard Stark’s boy --) assistant beat being used as a weapon against defenseless civilians.

Steve snapped back into himself by the doctor’s efficient movement at his waist, untying the drawstrings of the pajamas they’d given him. “What are you...” Steven took a breath. “I’ve had the medical checks, haven’t I?” He turned pink at the thought of the female doctor’s earlier exam. Turning his head and coughing was just as embarrassing as it had been when he’d been a bony hopeful at the recruiting station.

She smiled at him. “We have to prepare you.”

Steve flexed his wrist in the restraints. “What does that entail, exactly?” The doctor pulled down the pajama bottoms and removed them, leaving him exposed from the waist down, and clamped his ankles into straps before doing...something with the bed that bent his legs before unbuttoning the shirt portion and spreading the sides open to bare his chest.

“This is just standard procedure; don’t worry. Your master will likely insist upon inspection before he claims you,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’ll go easier if we get you ready beforehand, don’t you think?”

“Inspect? I thought that would involve checking my teeth.” Steve swallowed nervously. So he was being claimed, like a found suitcase at the bus station. He just wanted her to get this over with and get out of here. He’d made it through the first part of boot camp feeling like he was breathing warm water every time he ran. He’d freed prisoners. Surely he could keep his mouth shut and endure for now and eventually escape once he got away from this place or...something. There had to be someone who could remove the chip.

The doctor squinted at him and spread his knees apart, fastening straps around them to the side rails to held his legs open wide before swinging the bright lamp over his lower half. “You’ve had a dental x-ray already.”

“I’ve had all kinds of x-rays,” Steve said. “What could possibly...” he bucked as he felt something cold and wet at his entry, and doctor rubbed his thigh soothingly.

“It’s just lubricant,” she said, plunging a gloved finger inside him. “Relax. You’re awfully tight.” She added a second finger and then withdrew both, to Steve’s relief. He’d been hasty, though. The fingers returned, along with something that felt like cool metal pushing inside, and the doctor turned a screw on the side that seemed to spread him open slowly. Steve winced. “Speculums aren’t exactly comfortable, I know,” she said apologetically as she tweaked the object further. “Okay!”

“Finished?” Steve managed.

“Yes,” she said, and to his dismay didn’t remove the metal thing even as she tossed a sheet over his bottom half, and he heard the sound of the door behind him open. “Mr Stark!” she said warmly, and Steve blanched.

“Hello,’s Hill, isn’t it?”

“It is,” she said. “Your slave is ready for your inspection. Everything checks out, and the neural relay chip works a treat.”

“Ought to,” the man replied with a laugh. “I developed it.”

“Right,” she smiled in reply, picking up a clipboard.

“You can leave,” Stark said, and Steve could see him now. He did look like he could be Howard’s son. Dark-haired, but with a trimmed beard instead of a mustache.

“She didn’t finish,” Steve cut in, “she--”

“Shh.” Stark pressed a finger to his own lips. “Slaves don’t speak unless told that they may. Hasn’t anybody given him a manual?” he asked the ceiling, exasperated. Steve pressed his mouth shut instead of giving the man a piece of his mind. It wasn’t like he could back up his words with a poke in the eye.

Doctor Hill hesitated. “I shouldn’t go. I’m supposed to document responses, and observe as initial claiming takes place, if you’re doing it on premises.”

“No need,” Stark said, and Steve caught a flash as he shook her hand. A flash of green. Cash money. So that was how it was. The doctor nodded again and left the room.

“Do you want to get her in trouble with her master so she can spend the next month swabbing the decks?” Stark hissed at him. “Granted, there’s a bot for that, but...”

“She’s a slave?” Steve asked. “But...but she’s a doctor.”

“Do you know how much med school costs?” Stark said, sounding incredulous.

Steve glared at him. “You’re the one bribing--”

“Yeah, not in front of Fury, obviously.” Stark paused. “And that order not to speak stands, Rogers.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut.

“It’s just you and me now,” Stark continued as he pulled the sheet away. “Figured that might be a little less awkward for you, being from the Pleistocene and all.”

Really? He was making jokes? Steve was mostly naked, strapped down, and had something shoved up his ass. He didn’t see how this couldn’t be anything but awkward, or humiliating and horrible. He turned his face to the side.

“Aw, you blush. That’s precious. Don’t lose that.” Stark ran his hands up Steve’s spread thighs and nudged the speculum. “I hate these things. They look like torture devices. Ought to fashion something that’s not so hideous.” Steve gasped as Stark tightened something again, stretching him wider and adjusting the light as he leaned down to get a closer look. “My, you’re tight down here.”

“I bet you say that to all your slaves,” Steve croaked, and Stark looked taken aback for a moment before laughing aloud.

“Okay, permission to speak,” he said with a grin. “If you’re going to be entertaining.” Steve felt a bit relieved when the man loosened up the object inside him and very slowly pulled it out, removing the pressure. “But to answer your question seriously, most of my stable are engineers; they’re working in R&D and the plants. Indentured like doctors, if you’re wondering, since I financed their PhDs. They’re not...special like you are, Captain.”

Tony paused. “You have no idea, do you? How much Howard wanted you? But I’m glad it was me. You’d have been his new toy for a week and then he’d have forgotten you existed,” he said bitterly, then laid a hand on Steve’s taut, muscled abdomen. “I promise I’ll never get tired of you, Rogers. Steve.”

Steve gasped as he felt fingers breach his hole. “So smooth, and you run hot,” Stark said, breathily. “I’d complain about the failure to present you shaved but you don’t look bad like this. We can always take care of that fuzz once we get you home.” He ran a finger upward over Steve’s dick. “Mm, look at that.” Steve lifted his head unwillingly and stared at his traitor organ, hard against his will and twitching against his abdomen. “So responsive to me already. You’re gorgeous.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek and looked away again, his face flaming. “So I’m supposed to be slave,” he stated. It was obvious, but he still couldn’t believe this was happening. It was wrong. Everything was wrong.

“Uh huh,” Stark murmured absently, adding a second finger, another rush of wetness from the tube on the tray, and then a third. Steve winced. “Oh, come on, honey,” Stark said softly. “I’m being so gentle with you. That doesn’t hurt at all.”

It didn’t, Steve conceded to himself, but it felt strange. Invasive. It was a complete violation. And he was so weak now he probably couldn’t fight to close his legs for long even if they hadn’t been strapped open. “I never...” he closed his eyes.

“I’m your first?” Stark asked. “Well, it is almost Christmas.” Steve felt himself stretched further, and the unmistakable sound of a belt sliding through a buckle and then a zipper.

“Please don’t,” Steve said, feeling a sting behind his eyelids, and god, please don’t let him cry. “Please. I...if you restored my strength, I could...” he thought of Stark, who was well-known, and rich, and continued on, desperately. “I could be a guard. Your bodyguard. Or...or I could work in one of your weapons factories.”

“First off, I can defend myself better than you can, and I already have staff for everything else that isn’t automated.”

“I could be your helper. Any kind of duties other than. I could...I’ll do whatever else you want, just not...please, please don’t do this,” Steve begged.

Stark’s hand slipped upward and wrapped around Steve’s flagging member, teasing at the head. No one else...had ever touched him this way. “Your duty is my pleasure and that’s it. You’ll be the most pampered male concubine on the continent. I’d say the world but I hear there are some sheiks out there with gilded cock cages.” Steve’s eyes were squeezed shut but he could feel pressure again, and knew it had to be Stark, pushing inside him.

“Look at me,” Stark ordered, and Steve blinked away tears. “You should meet your master’s eyes during claiming. It’s traditional.” Stark’s gaze bored into his as own as pushed harder, past the ring of muscle inside Steve. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, you feel so sweet around my cock, so tight.”

Steve fisted his hands ineffectually, struggling at the restraints, but fought not to shut his eyes as Stark penetrated him, deeper and harder. He couldn’t help gasping when the man began stroking Steve’s dick in a lubricated hand, and whimpered against his will, cursing his body’s reaction, when he pulled the hand away before Steve could come. Stark didn’t hold back himself, though; he speeded his strokes, then pushed forward with a final grunt, and slowly pulled out of him. Steve felt wet and...dirty and used, even moreso when Stark bent to look closer at his tender hole and fingered him again.

“You pulled a huge load out of me, babe,” Stark said. “Love that tight little ass already.” Steve tipped his head back, wanting nothing more than to take a hot shower, even though his own dick was dark and throbbing. He wasn’t willing. He wasn’t.

Stark pulled his fingers away and opened his attache case on the countertop, then pulled out a thick black cuff - it looked heavy but when he wrapped it around Steve’s ankle and locked it with a code, felt feather-light. “This stays on at all times. You leave the radius distance that’s programmed in and you get tranqued -- tranquilized, you dig? It’s not pleasant falling unconscious and landing on your face, so do not run. Or walk, for that matter. Not that you’ll want to leave once you get a load of the quarters I’ve constructed for you.”

Steve doubted that. He’d bide his time, and when he had a chance...

“This,” Stark continued, pulling something silvery from a cinched bag, “is your collar. It doesn’t do anything but look fantastic against your tan and mark you as mine.” He clasped the gleaming coil loosely around Steve’s neck as he lay there, legs still strapped wide open. “Great,” he said. “And since we’re going to wash off the terrible institutional SHIELD scent and shave you clean immediately once we get home, I have a little surprise.” Stark leaned up and patted Steve’s cheek, then held up a thick, black, rubbery-looking bulb. “Let’s keep my come where it belongs for the trip, and keep you open for round two while we’re at it, eh? Don’t worry, it’s a short flight.”

Steve groaned faintly, feeling sore now as Stark worked the plug into him and held his hips up long enough to attach a slim leather harness that fastened to it and buckled around his hips and thighs. “Perfect fit.” Stark unbuckled the restraints on Steve’s wrists and rubbed first one, then the other. “Mmm, see, you shouldn’t struggle. I don’t like marks.” He unfastened Steve’s knees and ankles and motioned at a hanger hook on the wall bearing a blue silk shirt and grey trousers. “I had clothes for you sent over -- they’ll fit -- and there are shoes in the box. Gucci.” Stark smirked. “Finish getting dressed and I’ll take care of the paperwork.”

Steve sat up carefully, wincing at the feel of the plug and pull of the harness.

“Oh,” Stark said, “Shit. I’m sorry.” At Steve’s side, he wrapped fingers around his dick and began to stroke him. Clutching the back of his neck, he pressed his mouth hard against Steve’s temple as he managed to come over Stark’s hand with a gasp.

“So good. You come so pretty for me, soldier. You see? You’ll find I’m not cruel,” Stark said softly.



One Saturday night, much later, Steve bathed, shaved, prepared and scented himself and dressed in his black singlet and harness and he waited for Tony, to come upstairs from his workshop. JARVIS had alerted him of his arrival within the hour.

Relaxing in the big bed he was now allowed to share, Steve reflected. Could he have escaped as he’d vowed to when he’d been told he was to be a slave?


But why?

Territorial wars were fought by robots and flying drones now, more powerful than any super soldier. Wars were also infrequent and short, because no one wanted to challenge robots with missiles.

Still, he could have been a mercenary, but Steve had no taste for the aims of the multinationals. He didn’t think he could learn to be inspired to fight for Starbucks or Coke, no matter how popular they were with draftees.

Patriotism -- national pride -- was passe, and Captain America was a relic. The America of today was about money and power and recreation and luxuries. Steve was lucky indeed to have all of these things, thanks to Tony. He worked so hard. Steve would make sure he felt good tonight.

He neatly stacked the magazines he’d been leafing through on the table by the chair and readied his master’s drink and his own, and prepared a plate of fruit. Steve would bathe his master first, then they’d drink and dine and then (he hoped, please don’t let Tony be too tired again!) Steve would lie back and spread his legs, or press his face against the stack of thick down pillows and his master would spread him open and fuck him, slow and leisurely at first, whispering beautiful filth in his ear, then faster and harder. He shivered at that thought. Steve would come on his master’s cock right when he was told he could; he was proud of being well-trained.

His stomach flipped in anticipation of Tony’s kisses and his hands and the hot slide of his cock filling him up, the rush of warm come in his ass. It had been two days since he’d been fucked, when his master had brought Pepper up for her birthday. Pepper was free now that she’d fulfilled her MBA obligation, but she still worked for Tony, and this year he’d given her time with Steve for a present. He’d enjoyed licking her until she panted and screamed and clamped her thighs over his ears, his master’s approving hum in his ear as he’d fucked Steve through the task.

Steve idly ran his fingers over the lettering on the coiled adamantium collar around his neck and smiled. He really was lucky to be the Property of Tony Stark.