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.

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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.

Gene had known Tony would be out at tha gala, so he'd been off for the night. He's still trying to get used to the idea of free time (because? what?) and had spent the night reading a book.

Tony's return isn't exactly a quiet one, and Gene, who has long since gotten used to his master's late nights, isn't at all surprised at the hour. But he is a little worried that Stark's had too much to drink, so he comes out of his rooms and into the hallway - not even near close to being in Tony's way. He doesn't want Tony to fall down the stairs; as much as this is still a slavery situation, it's not a bad scene.

"Tony?"

"Gene." Shit. Tony runs his hand through his hair, messing up what's left of his hairdo. His shirt's already untucked and his tie loosened; unfortunately, it looks sloppy rather than intentional.

"Long night," he mutters. "What do you need?" The question is gruff. He figures there has to be a reason Gene's accosting him in the hallway in the middle of the night, but, as previously noted, this is really not a good time for it.

"Nothing," he says, though he's a little on alert due to Tony's gruff demeanor. Guess he's about to find out what kind of drunk Tony is when he's had this much. There's been nothing to indicate that he's a violent man prior to this point, but Gene knows well that people show their true selves when their barriers are down, and that people who claim to be nice, respectable citizens are often the opposite in private.

"I wanted to make sure that you were going to get to your room all right. It looks like you have it well in hand," he says, and moves to extract himself from the situation.

"I'm fine," Tony says, wincing inwardly at how sullen it sounds. Gene makes a move to slip back into his rooms, and Tony, without even thinking, puts his arm out, hand against the wall, to block him. "Wait." Now his tone is an awkward mix of commanding and plaintive, which is a little embarrassing, but that seems to be the theme tonight, and once again he can't bring himself to care.

All he can think about is how gorgeous Gene is. He's had a shitty night, and Gene is here, and he's hot, and he's the only person who's done anything nice for Tony all day, and all Tony wants to do is tear Gene's clothes off and carry him to bed and have drunken sex and fall asleep cuddling with someone who actually seems to like him.

The impulse, as stupid as it is, overtakes him, and he leans in and kisses Gene.

It's a good kiss, despite how drunk he is: gentle and sure, holding all the warmth that had been lacking in his demeanor.

Edited 2016-10-12 07:27 (UTC)

Gene has been pushed up against a wall before, his wrists restrained, and used as something to be dominated and have power asserted over. He's been thrown down on a bed and pinned and violated while he screamed. He'd had his head held down and been forced to swallow; and all of these more times than he's cared to count.

But he has never been kissed before.

He could push Tony away, but he doesn't. While he has the ability to kick Tony's ass six ways from Sunday, he knows in his bones that's more trouble than it's worth. He knows what he needs to do.

So he goes completely passive. He doesn't fight, but he doesn't return the kiss, either. (Partially because he doesn't know what to do there.) He's been in this position enough times to know that it's easier if he just goes along with it.

Tony kisses Gene, and Gene... does nothing. He neither accepts nor rejects the advance; Tony might as well be kissing the wall.

Tony drops his hand to Gene's hip, shifts a little closer, and makes a small questioning noise in the back of his throat. Still no reaction. Despair wells up, twisting in Tony's stomach. This was stupid, stupid. Why would he expect Gene to reciprocate? He's a slave, and Tony's his master. Of course he'd act like he likes Tony. He'll do anything Tony tells him to do - but that doesn't mean he'll enjoy it. And Tony's just another rich bastard who takes what he wants without regard for anyone else. That's what everyone's always telling him. He's not surprised they're right.

Tony breaks off the kiss and hides his face in the crook of Gene's neck, breathing hard. He stays like that for a few seconds, pathetically hoping that Gene will still return some show of affection.

He doesn't. Obviously.

"Goddammit." Tony abruptly pushes himself away from Gene and stomps to his room, fleeing before he can make things any worse. In his room, he strips off his clothes, leaving them in careless heaps on the floor, and stumbles into bed. If he's lucky, maybe the alcohol will knock him out and he won't stay up the whole night hating himself.

Well, that could have gone better.

Gene isn't quite sure how; he'd done the proper thing, hadn't he? Let Tony lead? Even if he hadn't quite known where he was supposed to be following him to?

(The worst and saddest part - the part Gene doesn't quite realize - is that this kind of affection and contact is something he's had no experience with. While he might have wanted...something...it was nothing he could articulate, because it wasn't in his paradigm.)

The tingling burn in his lips, he's sure, is the alcohol.

He goes to bed, with one question in his mind - if Tony's intentions had been headed in that direction, why hadn't he taken Gene to bed with him?

Enough pondering. Breakfast still needed to be made...but between Tony's inebriated state and tomorrow's calendar, Gene's pretty sure that his services (these particular ones, anyway) won't be needed until later in the morning.

Morning came, and Tony still wasn't awake - or, alternatively, he'd decided not to get out of bed. Gene would be only too happy to let him have a lie-in, but it's not up to him if Tony misses his appointments.

He knocks on the door. "Tony?"

Edited 2016-10-13 04:35 (UTC)

Tony sleeps, but not very well. When morning comes, he's not rested at all, and the hangover he'd expected has arrived. He thinks he has some meeting or event or something that he's supposed to be going to, but he petulantly decides to ignore it. If it's that direly important, his dad will call and bother him.

When there's a knock on his door, he's mostly fallen back asleep. His groggy brain can't figure out if it's real or a dream, and doesn't prioritize it. He grunts and squeezes the pillow he's hugging a little tighter. He doesn't acknowledge the knock.

Oh, damn it.

"Tony? Tony, wake up. You're going to be late," Gene says through the door.

Tony rouses only enough to grumble a grouchy, wordless refusal, and then burrows deeper into his covers. He's tired and upset, and whatever he's supposed to be doing definitely isn't important enough to wake up for.

Oh, goddamn it all.

Gene opens the door, standing in the doorframe. "Tony. You need to wake up and eat breakfast. You're going to be late."

The door opens, and Tony finally wakes up enough to sit up in bed and glare at— well, Gene, of course. Who else would it be?

"What?" he mutters irritably, scrubbing his hand over his unkempt beard. He hadn't actually been listening to what Gene said.

Whatever Gene had been expecting to see, it hadn't been...that.

Tony's chest is heavily scarred, and there's something blue and glowing on his chest. In his chest? Gene does his best not to stare. Whatever had happened to his master - and however long ago to have the scars be this healed, because Gene was quite familiar with scarring - this gave him some insight. Tony wasn't just some rich bastard with a cushy life. Something had happened to him. Something, Gene realized, he kept quite hidden.

"You're going to be late if you don't get up," he says calmly. "Breakfast is ready. And some headache medication. I think you might need it." Sure, a little presumptuous, but Gene's been around enough drunk people in his time. He knows what's up.

Gene tries not to stare, but Tony notices it anyway, and realizes he's still undressed and his chest is visible. He grimaces. Oops. Guess that cat's out of the bag.

That's definitely not helping his mood, and he turns away and heaves himself out of bed without saying anything to Gene. He disappears into the bathroom to shower, desperately wishing he could spend the day in the lab instead of interacting with other human beings - because he seems to really suck at that recently.

But now that he's up, there's no point in dragging his feet. He showers quickly, tidies up, and dresses. In the kitchen, he slouches dramatically in his chair and pokes at his breakfast. It looks amazing. He's not sure he's going to be able to enjoy it.

For his part, Gene's acting totally normal, because everything is totally normal. Mostly.

Last night had not been entirely unusual. Gene knows he's attractive; it was part of why he'd been slung around as a bed slave so often. He'd hoped that Stark was above that, but...well, at least he'd stopped? Which baffles him all the more. He can't understand that. Why had Stark stopped? Gene's his personal slave, not just his personal chef. He'd do what was asked of him - or demanded of him. Or forced on him. It was usually the last one.

But Stark had stopped.

"Is everything all right?" And he does mean everything. His tone is perfectly mild; maybe too mild. He's more subdued this morning than usual; there's not even the usual light banter.

Edited 2016-10-13 20:40 (UTC)

"Hangover," Tony mumbles around his coffee mug, not meeting Gene's eyes. Which his true, but also not the full truth. The full truth is that he's thoroughly ashamed of his behavior last night and wants nothing more than to bolt out the door and hide in the lab until both of them can pretend it never happened. At least this morning he has a good excuse to scarf down his breakfast and run.

"Here." Gene puts down a glass of water down on the table. "Drink up. I've worked for a lot of people and I've found there's no better way to fight a hangover than water."

He's pretty sure it's not just the hangover, but he'll let Tony save face.

Tony glares at the cup. Drinking water, in the morning, instead of coffee? What kind of heathen do you take him for, Gene?

Still, he downs the rest of his coffee and replaces the mug with the glass of water. Once he's tossed back the painkillers, he applies himself to his breakfast, plowing through it like it's a mission. Man, he's never been so excited to get to a meeting.

He's about halfway done when he breaks his moody silence to say, "It's a heart implant." He's still looking at his plate. "Someone tried to kill me up when I was fifteen, because they had a grudge against my dad. It was a bomb. You probably knew that. But my dad tried to keep quiet how bad it was. I was... pretty much done for. I only lived because of this." He taps his chest. "It's sort of like a pacemaker on steroids. Experimental. They didn't have any idea if it was going to work." Or how long it will keep working.

Tony shrugs. "It did, so, here I am." He goes back to his meal.

It's both an explanation and a deflection: talking about one awkward, uncomfortable thing so he doesn't have to talk about something worse (ie, him kissing Gene last night). It was inevitable that Gene would eventually see the implant, anyway, so at least they're getting it out of the way.

Gene nods; he'd heard that, vaguely. They don't really give slaves CNN. But that seems to explain that.

"I'm sorry," he says, and it's not a perfunctory apology. Because he really does think that's horrible. Granted - horrible in a different way than what he'd been through, but still. He wouldn't have wished that on Tony, who, despite (because of?) the previous night's incident, is the most moral master Gene's ever had.

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time for a timeskip textwall

A very good one

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tw: past sexual assault descriptions

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such a drama queen

wouldn't be tony otherwise

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