bakerstreet | The Slave Auction Meme

The Slave Auction Meme

â§ Leave a comment with the character's name, fandom, and whether your character will be playing the part of 'slave' or 'master', plus preferences for scenarios if you have any.
â§ Respond to others with one of the scenarios below or feel free to make up your own.
â§ Please remember to be respectful of others while you play

Warning: Be aware that this meme deals with dark subjects like slavery and may also contain non-consensual/dubiously consensual sex, violence, and kink.

SLAVES

1. The Newbie - This is your very first auction and you don't quite know what to expect. Hopefully you remember your training and don't disgrace yourself in front of your new master. Hopefully someone thinks you're worth buying at all.

2. The Oldtimer - You've been bought and sold and bought again so many times. You've seen it all before and don't think this time is going to be much different. In fact, the only real anxiety you've got is whether or not someone's going to pay for a more than slightly used slave.

3. The Pet - You're a pleasure slave. A bed warmer. A decorative piece of artwork. You're meant to look pretty and be pleasing and not much else.

4. The Guard - Your master hired you because of your ability to swing a sword or shoot a gun, not your looks.

5. The Escape Artist - Somehow you always manage to squirm out of your master's chains. Too bad you seem to get caught after a while. Maybe your next daring escape will be permanent. Then again, maybe your next master has special ways of keeping you locked up.

6. The Undercover - You aren't a slave at all, you're just pretending to be one. Why? Well that's up to you. Either way, your cover is blown if you don't act the part.

7. The Specialist - You have a skill that no one else has. Something rare and valuable. Something your master needs more than anything else.

MASTERS

1. The Customer - You've owned slaves before and this trip to the market is nothing new to you. Still, you're hoping to find something worth your while.

2. The Gift - Someone bought a pet for you, isn't that nice of them? Or maybe it isn't so nice. Did you even want a slave in the first place? Well you're stuck with one now.

3. The Giver - You're selecting a slave for someone else, and they need to be perfect. Perhaps you'd better test them out first to make sure you're getting your money's worth.

4. The Trainer - You specialize in taming unruly slaves and making them over into perfect, obedient, well-trained pets.

5. The Rebel - You hate the idea of slavery, but the system isn't going to go away any time soon, so the next best thing is to buy up any slave you can get your hands on and free them, right?

6. The Companion - You want someone to be with you always, someone you can talk to and depend on, someone who will never leave your side. It's a good thing that money can buy that these days.

7. The Undercover - You're not actually a Master. You're at the auction for an entirely different reason. Maybe it's special policework, maybe you're trying to hunt down a certain someone. Either way, your cover is blown unless you act the part.

As always, feel free to use a combination of scenarios or make up your own if you have other ideas.

Snagged from here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

Goodness gracious, was that a smile? Finally, some progress.

Tony's smile widens into a grin. "I think I'm going to enjoy getting to know you, Temugin. Mind if I call you Gene? Temugin's a bit of a mouthful." He's sure he's not pronouncing it correctly. (He could take the time to learn the correct pronunciation, but... yeah, he's still kind of an asshole.)

Temugin - the newly-christened Gene - shrugs with some indifference. "Not the worst nickname I've ever had." The worst'd curl your hair, laddie buck.

"And, funny. I was about to say the same to you."

"Well, now I'm curious." Don't say things like that and expect him not to ask about it, Gene!

"And flattered, I think. Maybe you'll be one of the half-dozen people who can stand to put up with me on a regular basis." He gives Gene a self-deprecating smirk.

"I'd prefer not to talk about it." Setting a boundary. Let's see what happens.

"So far, you've actually been one of the least intrusive masters I've had. But then, we barely know each other." A smirk right back. "Sir."

"...Fair enough." Now he's even more curious. But he doesn't need to know, and it's not his business, and if he's honest with himself the story would probably be both depressing and disappointingly mundane anyway.

Tony gets up and dumps his silverware and empty plate in the dishwasher. "Like I said, this is a new thing for me. Don't really know the expectations, don't really care. And you don't have to call me 'sir' when we're alone, by the way. Tony's fine."

He hears 'sir' and 'Mister Stark' too often to find them grating, but he doesn't really find them necessary, either.

But he does catch that cheeky little smirk, and he continues with more humor, "Unless you're just doing it to be cute— then I'm going to find a more annoying nickname to call you." Probably something punny. You've been warned.

"There are very few people who would call anything about me 'cute'," Gene deadpans. "But, noted. Tony it is."

This keeps being weird. Every time he thinks he has a handle on what's going on, Stark...Tony...throws him another curveball.

He really has been keeping a wit in reserve; getting him to let it out a little more will be the hard part. Keeping it to himself has helped him survive this long.

~~Tony thinks your butt is very cute, Gene.~~

"Great." Tony gives Gene another friendly pat on the shoulder. Touchy-feely, isn't he? "I'm gonna head to bed. Got a board meeting early tomorrow. You need anything else for the night?"

~~Ooh Mr. Stark ooooh~~

If Gene hadn't seen that coming, Tony may have gotten to find out firsthand just how much Gene could kick his ass. "No, I think I'm all right." Very, very confused. But all right. "Let me know if there's anything you need...Tony."

He tries the name out. And while it is weird to call a master by his first name - not usually recommended - it's nice to talk to someone almost like an equal.

"Breakfast would be awesome." Despite Tony's natural gregariousness, they're still master and slave, not buddies. "Meeting's at 8am. I'm having dinner with my dad tomorrow, so you're off the hook for that. Trish'll get my schedule to you, and I'll tell you which of that crap I'm actually going to so you can plan ahead."

There's more logistics to deal with - establishing Gene's freedom of movement, ensuring his papers and identification are in order, that sort of thing - but that can all be handled tomorrow after the board meeting.

"If anything comes up, you know where to find me." And Tony heads back to his bedroom.

Gene nods, and begins planning breakfast. He has no idea what Tony will eat, so he'll start with something simple.

Everyone likes omelets, right?

The next morning, he's frying up a ham and swiss omelet, bright and early. There's orange juice on the table, and, upon consideration, one banana. Potassium's good for you.

Maybe not everyone, but Tony sure does! He zooms into the kitchen at 7:45, already spruced up and dressed in an impeccably tailored suit. Sometimes he likes to remind the Board that he can act like a civilized human being, when he feels like it.

"Nice," is his only greeting before he unpeels the banana and eats the whole thing in about two bites (please, contain your dick jokes). As soon as the omelette hits his plate, he starts wolfing that down too. "Oh, man," he mumbles between bites. "I love you. I love breakfast." ~~I love... lamp.~~

The omelette disappears with astonishing speed, and then he chugs the orange juice, apparently determined to finish the entire meal in under five minutes. "Awesome," he decrees, and then he bounces up and straightens his tie and jacket. (The fact that he managed not to get egg all over his fancy clothes must be some kind of miracle.) "I'll be back this afternoon. Need anything before I go? Phone's off in the meeting, god help me." Forcing him to disconnect from the internet? Barbaric!

Good morning to you too, Tony.

Gene's a little amused by the way Tony's wolfing the food down. You'd think he hadn't eaten in days, not just hours. "Good to see that it meets with your approval," he says, smiling a little. Note to self: omelets work.

"No, I don't need anything. Still just getting adjusted to the place." Tony should undetstand; this whole scenario would take some adjustment for any normal person, let alone a slave.

Tony smiles back. "Well, if you do, the AI recognizes voice commands." He gestures vaguely, indicating that the whole place is AI-enabled. "She'll hook you up. Okay— gotta run." He's cutting it close on time. He's lucky he doesn't have to commute.

---

He returns as promised several hours later, looking a little less crisp but somehow still stylish. 'Deliberately tousled business formal' is a good look for him. "I really hate those," he complains, though he doesn't actually seem all that annoyed. Maybe eating a real meal for breakfast instead of coffee and whatever's lying around has put him in a good mood.

He's carrying a small assortment of items, and he waves Gene over to the kitchen island and spreads them out. "Phone, tablet." He pushes the devices over to Gene. They're brand new, top-of-the-line Stark products. "You've got my number programmed in, and Trish. Steven's the guy who runs the fleet, so give him a call if you need a ride. Mina coordinates the household staff. Grocery orders go through her, and if the oven explodes or whatever, she'll get it fixed." He slides over the next item. "ID card." It's Gene's government photo ID, newly issued to reflect his change of ownership.

Two more plastic cards joins the pile. "Credit card, if you feel like hitting the Fulton Fish Market and personally communing with the sushi. Go wild." Tony knows chefs can be incredibly snobby about their ingredients, and he doesn't have a problem with Gene spending a little extra money hand-picking his. "Just don't try anything funny with it, our personal accountant is scary, and might be a mutant with some kind of finance-based superpower. This one's yours," he says, indicating the second card. "Discretionary allowance is $500 a month, to start. Anything you don't spend is credited to your account, so don't worry about stuffing cash under your mattress."

There's one item left on Tony's side of the island - an unassuming metal bracelet - but he leaves it untouched for now.

"You're on for regular meals, minus whatever my schedule says I'm not around for. Other than that, you're on your own. You're free to come and go, just check in and out with whoever's at the desk downstairs. You can take religious holidays," as per federal regulations, "and personal days are on request, with two weeks notice. The tailor will be here at 3."

Phew. That was quite a spiel to run through. Tony smiles at Gene. "Sound good? Did I miss anything?"

Edited 2016-10-08 06:31 (UTC)

Gene nods, inspecting each item on the pile as it's described, stamping all the information down into his brain. When Tony asks if there's anything he's forgotten, he hesitates, and his gaze shifts to the bracelet for just a moment. He's been chipped, of course, but he rather doubted this bracelet was a simple fashion accessory.

Gene doesn't say anything. Tony can't tell if he's overwhelmed, or upset, or just used to the rigmarole of changing masters. He's very difficult to read. But it shouldn't matter to him what Gene is feeling, right?

Tony smiles and clears his throat, feeling weirdly awkward about this whole thing.

Well. Nothing for it but to forge ahead. Tony picks up the bracelet. "GPS bracelet monitor." He toys with the gadget, running his fingers over its clean lines. It's an unobtrusive, almost elegant little device; a nice piece of work, considering its purpose. "There's no range limit. The GPS data is recorded, but I won't look at it unless I need to. It's just... insurance. Standard practice." He shrugs.

GPS technology had made tracking devices de rigueur for high-end slaves, so it's not like Tony's being unusually paranoid or overbearing. If anything, it's proof that Tony considers Temugin a valuable investment and intends to treat him accordingly. For some reason, that justification doesn't stop him from feeling a little bit uncomfortable.

Gene nods, looking at the bracelet as Tony picks it up and explains, his expression - as usual - totally unreadable. As nice as the bracelet looks, though, he's not fooled. A shackle's still a shackle. It doesn't matter how pretty it is.

But it's not like he has a choice.

"And in what situations," he asks, almost pleasantly, though the question's bordering on insubordinate, "would you deem it necessary to check up on me?"

He's well used to being contained, but usually the restraints are more tangible. 'No range limit' means 'there's nowhere on Earth I will not be able to find you'. A nice way of wording a threat.

~~He meant you're free to go wherever you want because it's not going to ping him if you leave the confines of Manhattan, Gene, gosh. He's trying to be cool about this. >:/~~

"If you go missing," Tony says, bluntly, because there's really no other way to answer that question. "I don't have the time to be checking in on you constantly, and like I said, I don't care what you do with your free time. So unless you're planning on running off, it's just some stylish jewelry." He tries another smile. He thinks it probably isn't very convincing.

~~THERE IS LITERALLY NO WAY TO BE COOL ABOUT THIS~~

Gene nods. Makes sense, and is at least a better answer than the one he was expecting. He's not entirely sure he believes it, but...

"All right," he says. "And you don't need to worry. I've learned that trying to run off is more trouble than it's worth."

~~It's the thought that counts...?~~

"Well, I'll try not to give you any reasons to want to," Tony says. And whether or not Gene believes it, he means that.

He holds out the bracelet. "Which hand?"

Gene holds out his left wrist - non-dominant, the one with the barcode and alphanumeric designation etched into his skin.

"Haven't seen any reason to run so far."

"If you do, you can tell Pepper about it, and she'll probably give me hell," Tony jokes. (But not really a joke, because that's totally true.)

The bracelet fastens around Gene's wrist with a quiet click, and... it's done.

It's strange how something so mundane can seem so significant. Tony has the documents affirming his ownership of Gene, and his subdermal implant is registered to Tony, but the physical act of fastening the bracelet feels more possessive than any of that. It's an unexpected feeling - like an echo of earlier centuries, when masters might signify ownership of their slaves by collaring them.

Meanwhile, Gene doesn't attach any special significance to the bracelet at all, except as another thing marking him as property. Though really, the chip in his arm and the brand on his skin were all that were needed to do that. This was just another thing denoting that he wasn't free. Wasn't human.

Though this has honestly been the most humane indenture he's ever had, and he's been with Stark for about twenty-four hours.

"If I find any, I'll be sure to do that."

"Then I think you're all set." Gene's attitude remains cryptic, and Tony remains vaguely unsettled. What should he do about this?

"I'd love to stick around for lunch, but that meeting really cut into my lab time for the day. I think I hear some high-powered lasers calling my name."

Ah, of course. Hide in the lab, again. A very constructive and adult reaction.

Gene shrugs. "If you'd like food sent to you, I can do that, too."

Why you runnin', Tony? Why you runnin'?

But he knows a dismissal when he hears one.

"If you need anything...you know where to find me." And he smiles a little. A very little.

"Sure, if you're up for it. As long as it's something I can eat with one hand." Yeah, Gene, you should probably send him down a sandwich so he doesn't eat five hot pockets instead.

Gene smiles very slightly, and Tony, heartened, smiles back. "Well, if I don't see you sooner, I'll see you for breakfast."

---

It's odd having someone else knocking around in his absurdly gigantic penthouse, but Gene is unobtrusive, and Tony quickly adjusts. He adjusts too well, almost - the more comfortable he gets around Gene, the more often he's reminded of how attractive Gene is. And how... accessible. Every time that thought rears its head, Tony's skin crawls. He likes Gene, even if he is only a slave, and he doesn't want to be just the next in a long line of masters to use him like that.

So he distracts himself the same way he distracts himself from his hopelessly on-again-off-again relationship with Pepper: he sleeps around.

And it is nice, he admits, to be able to bring his dates back to his place for a private meal rather than making a scene at a fancy restaurant. (There's always a scene. Because everyone wants to catch a glimpse of Tony Stark, and none of them are ever as subtle about it as they think.) Gene may not be world-class master chef like Howard's personal chef, but his food is always perfectly delicious. Some of his dates find the home-cooked experience quite charming.

His roster of partners is endlessly rotating: mostly women, sometimes men, but none of them lasting very long. They're just flings. Gene handles it with grace, expertly fading into the background whenever Tony brings someone home. His dates, for the most part, ignore Gene completely. He is only a slave, after all.

Very rarely, they will take an interest in him, but for reasons other than his cooking.

"He's lovely. Is he part of the package?" The redhead watches Gene collect the empty plates and wine glasses, and the glint in her eyes is predatory.

Tony chuckles indulgently and kisses her neck. His arm slides around her waist, trying to subtly steer them out of the dining room. "Only if he volunteers. He's just the cook."

"That's no fun," she pouts.

"It's no fun if I have to share," Tony purrs. "Come on. I don't like dividing my attention."

She laughs, and lets Tony lead her out.

He doesn't call her back.

...

Shockingly (or not: he is kind of an asshole), not all his conquests are successful.

He'd been making some progress mending things with Pepper recently, and when he and his plus-one at a charity gala hadn't hit it off, he'd made the mistake of going to hang out with Pepper instead. His neglected date had gotten territorial and thrown an ugly tantrum, resulting in two of them being embarrassed, all three of them being angry, and none of them going home together. The whole evening had fallen apart into a miserable, humiliating mess.

Now the gala's over, and Tony knows he's drunk way too much. He doesn't really care. He'll probably have an awful hangover tomorrow. Still doesn't care. He lurches out of the elevator and tromps up the stairs, hoping that it's late enough that Gene will be in his rooms for the night. The last thing he needs is to see someone else he's pining after and can't have.

well it's the principle of the thing

well you can call him anything you like as long as you don't call him late for dinner.

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you must be a level 4 friend to unlock my tragic backstory

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the dick jokes can't be tamed

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this whole thread is "weirdly awkward"

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time for a timeskip textwall