The world is lopsided as Tony cracks open his eyes. He realizes he’s tied to a chair that’s on its side. The chair is cutting off blood flow to his arm and he groans. He’s in his master bedroom in his top-security penthouse in the safest part of Manhattan. The last thing he remembers is getting home late with his takeout, rummaging around the kitchen for utensils, mindful of his sleeping son, before it all goes black.
“Lookie here, Champs’s awake.”
Rumlow and his cronies stand Tony’s chair up and Rumlow grabs at Tony’s face. The last Tony had seen of Rumlow was when he burned a building down with him in it. Of course he survived. His face is now a contorted, blended-together mush of burnt flesh, but Tony recognizes him all the same.
“Boys, wake him up.”
A few of Rumlow’s men leave, and Tony can hear them head toward his son’s room. He starts struggling wildly.
“Leave him out of this!”
“No chance, Stark. A pretty boy like him’s gotta learn the consequences of his daddy’s mistakes.”
Tony hears screaming, and struggles to kick at Rumlow to no avail.
“I’ll kill you!”
His door slams open and two men are hauling his fifteen-year-old son into his room. Peter is screaming and struggling, tears running down his face as he screams for his father. Tony anger piques and he breaks out of Rumlows hold before kicking him hard in the stomach. Rumlow curses, falling back, and Tony jerks wildly to try to get to his son.
“Fucking knock him out!”
Something hits the back of his head, and he’s out again.
He wakes up again to the soft whimpers of his son. He slowly opens his eyes again. His chair’s been moved. He is now sitting directly in front of his large canopied bed, situated so that he has a perfect view of his naked son. His boy is lying on his back, skinny arms and legs stretched out and tied to each corner of the bed. There’s a burlap bag over his head muffling his noise, but Tony could see his thin shoulders shuddering with every sob he takes in, and each distressed cry from his son leaves a dagger mark in Tony’s chest.
Rumlow is kneeling in front of his struggling son, gripping the base of his tiny little-boy cock. It takes a moment for to realize what Rumlow is doing.
“Get your fucking hands off of him!”
Rumlow turns around to face Tony, hands still on Peter. He smirks.
“Just in time. Your boy here was getting tired of waiting. I thought I’d have to play with sweet little Petey here with no audience.”
Rumlow tightens his hold on Peter’s small cock and starts feeding a gigantic sound into his slit. Peter’s whimpers crescendo into a high-pitched shriek as he shakes his head profusely under the bag. Loud sobs fill the room as Tony furiously struggles in his bonds.
“A little whore like this should have all his holes filled. Clearly you never disciplined him right Stark. Well, the boys and I are gonna tonight.” Rumlow forces the sound deep into Peter’s cock, before dragging it out slowly, then sliding it back in. Peter lets out muffle protest with each thrust of the sound. His limbs trembling as the ropes force him to stay still and feel every inch of metal rod filling him out.
Once he’s satisfied with the sound situated securely in Peter’s slit, Rumlow moves to the side to grab some lube.
“P-Please,” Tony begs, “Please let him go. I’ll do anything.”
Rumlow gives him a hard look, not missing a beat as he slowly lubes up his fingers. He reaches down and starts rubbing between Peter’s spread legs. Peter lets out a wet sob.
“You’ve cost us quite a lot of money Stark, and we’re not happy. So we’re going to take something priceless away from you. I can’t exactly say your son’s cherry is worth all that you cost us Stark, but I guess it’ll have to do.”
With that, he roughly shoves two fingers inside. Peter lets out a piercing shriek as his body is forcefully entered for the first time. Rumlow holds his fingers there as Peter pants and Tony screams.
“Damn, that’s fucking tight. Haven’t you ever had anything up there kid? Shame.”
He parts his fingers inside Peter’s hole, and Peter whines, arching his back at the painful stretch. Rumlow lazily fingers Peter a few more times before getting both of his thumbs inside of Peter, forcing a wider stretch. Peter struggles to jerk his hips back as Rumlow and the rest of the men laugh.
“Look at that sweet little pussy.”
“He’s making his baby-cock bounce!”
Once of the men comes closer with his phone and starts filming, zooming in on Peter’s stretched pink hole.
“There it is folks. Tony Stark’s son. Nothing but a tight little glory hole.”
Peter trembles at the abuse, on the verge of a panic attack. His breaths are coming out in short, cut-off puffs, and Tony jerks in his chair.
“Please, please, he can’t breath! Let him go.”
“Huh, you’re right. I wanna see that pretty little face anyway.”
Rumlow tears the bag off of Peter’s face, and Tony heart breaks at what he sees. There’s a near-dry steak of blood running down the side of his face. His boy put up a fight. His face is sweaty and streaked with tears, big brown eyes blown with pain and terror. His whines and protests coming up short, stopped by a large, bulbous gag stretching his lips and strapped at the back of his head.
“What a sweet little whore.”
Rumlow runs the back of his hand in mock affection over the side of Peter’s face. Peter lets out a small, scared sound and tries to pull away, but his bonds hold him in place.
“People will pay decently for a face like this. After we’re done with him, we’re taking him to the auction, gonna sell this bitch to some rich sleaze that will have their fun splitting him in half on their geriatric cock. Imagine what we’ll get for the the son of Tony Stark.”
“Nnmph! Nuhh!”
Peter’s eyes fill with tears as Rumlow strokes his mess of curls.
“Wouldn’t you like to see that? The future of head SHIELD, reduced to nothing but a mindless cocksleeve.”
Peter lets out a horrified wail, shaking his head and thrashing wildly. Tony lets out a outraged scream as he writhes in his bonds. Fiery overtakes his veins as he shouts at Rumlow. Tells him that he’s going to kill him, that he’ll tear him fiber to fiber. Rumlow and the men only laugh.
“But first, I’m gonna take the pleasure of breaking this little bitch in first.”
He starts undoing his belt and Peter, seeing what’s about to happen to him, jerks at his bonds, shaking his torso from side to side to try and buck Rumlow off, his soft, sounded dick jostling painfully as he does.
“Little whore’s scared of his first time? How sweet.”
Two men reach down to untie Peter’s legs, and he immediately starts kicking, screaming. The men overpower him quickly and retie his legs to his thighs. They leave the young boy trembling in his strained position as Rumlow admires the handiwork.
“Like a worth of art,” he runs his hands over the ropes criss-crossing across Peter’s thighs.
“Please. Please don’t do this.” Tony begs weakly.
“A little too late now old man.”
With that, Rumlow takes Peter by the thighs and starts feeding his large dick into his soft entrance. Peter lets out a high-pitched keen at the intrusion, head arching off the pillow, tears streaming down his cheeks. Rumlow leans forward, grabbing at the railing for leverage, sighing at the tightness of Peter’s under-prepared entrance. He’s really too small to take a dick as massive as Rumlow’s, but the man forces himself farther in anyway. Peter moans brokenly as Rumlow bottoms out.
“Absolutely perfect. You like this sweetheart?”
He starts setting a brutal pace, fucking into Peter’s virgin hole with vigor, stretching him impossibly wide on his giant cock. Peter’s tiny body is rocked up and down by the force of each thrust, his body arched, strung like a bow, Rumlow drawing out muffle screams from him with each rough snap of his hips.
“Mmph! Mmph! Nngh! Ungh!”
Tony could do nothing but weep as his son his brutally raped in front of him. He struggles weakly, his pleas drowned out by the sound of Peter’s screams and flesh slapping flesh. Tony jerks as he feels something being shoved into his mouth. His own tie. He screams indignantly as the tie is tightened over his mouth. He then feels a hand on his crotch. He looks away from his son for the first time that night, horrified to see one of Rumlow’s men standing over him, smirking as he undoes Tony’s pants. Tony lets out a wail and the man draws Tony soft dick out of his pants.
“Wouldn’t be fair to give you a show without any gratification.”
He starts running his fingers up and down Tony’s length. Tony jerks to try to get away from the man to no avail. Between the stimulation and the sound of Peter’s whines, it’s all getting too much and Tony starts feeling his dick filling out against his will. His eyes fill with tears, blurring his vision until all that he can see is the the color of flesh in front of him, the outline of a larger man thrusting into a smaller one. The sounds Peter makes - airy little keens and shrieks - might as well have been coming from a badly shot porno. Tony is shooting into the hand wrapped around his dick before he can help himself, letting out a muffled, frustrated grunt.
When his vision clears, he sees Rumlow pulling away from a sobbing Peter. The boy’s gone completely lax, lying like his limbs were lead, drowned in Tony’s massive bed. Distantly, he hears Rumlow tsk.
“Little whore his hard.”
Indeed, Peter’s little boy cock is standing, angry and erect on his stomach, the sound still lodged deeply inside.
“Whores aren’t allowed to get off. The sooner you learn that, the better.”
Rumlow takes out a thick rubber cock ring from his pocket and snaps it over Peter’s red dick. Peter only lets out a soft grunt, strung out from Rumlow’s abuse. Tony squeezes his eyes together, letting two fat tears escape.
“Gotta let him be for a bit boys. You still got the thing?”
One of the men hands Rumlow a large red dildo. Tony protests weakly as he sees it. He wants them to stop, to leave Peter alone. Hasn’t he had enough?
Rumlow parts Peter’s legs slightly and slides the dildo into his entrance. It goes in easily, slicked up by the load of come that Rumlow gave him just minutes earlier. Peter lets out a long, weak moan, collapsing back on the bed when the dildo fills him completely. Rumlow then ties a blindfold over the boy’s eyes before sliding off the bed.
“Poor boy’s exhausted.”
“Yeah, we should let him and his old man rest a bit.”
With that, Rumlow and his men stand up to leave, but just before Rumlow is out the door, he stops with a smirk.
“I suppose whores shouldn’t rest too much.”
He presses a button on a remote, and instantly, Peter’s springs to life. He lets out a loud, pained keen, torso contorting wildly to try to get away from the dildo in his ass that is now vibrating at it’s top setting.
“We’ll leave you with your buddy there for a bit, then we’ll come back for you.”
“Nnmph!”
Peter struggles harder.
But the men are already out the door.
Tony watches as they leave, before turning his eyes back to his struggling son. The blindfold partially obscures Peter’s face, and Tony feels himself shamefully hardening up once more as it became easier to forget that it was is son in front of him. It was an obscene sight - Peter’s naked body, his gagged lips stretched open as if choking on a dick, his hard bouncing cock, the dildo lodged in his pink, puffy hole that was eye-level to Tony - and Tony could hardly bare to look, but he does anyway. He thinks he at least owes Peter as much for letting this happen to him. His boy was letting out loud whines as he twists hysterically his bondage. He jerks his hips off the bed, jack-hammering into air, flails his bound legs, trying in vain to dislodge the vibrator pushed up against his abused entrance. His blindfold is already started to soak with tears. Tony’s eyes watered. He wishes he can reach for his boy, hold him close and tell him how sorry he is, how he’s going to make everything better and that he’ll keep him safe. But all he could do was slump in his chair as the mess of cum on his erection slowly dries.
The men come back hours later, when Peter’s screaming have tapered off into weak, soft whimpers. Tony regards forlornly as Rumlow smiles darkly. The men surround Peter. One man jerks the dildo out roughly, eliciting a painful shout from the boy. Tony watches as they untie Peter from the bed, turning him around onto his stomach and start binding his hands behind his back. Peter thrashes weakly as they secure his bound legs to his arms, pulling him into a restrictive hogtie.
“What a mess.”
One man sinks three fingers into Peter’s wet hole, now gaping open from hours of torture. Another man comes dragging a large suitcase, which he heaves onto the bed. Realizing what’s about to happen, Tony starts shouting, face reddening as he fights to get to his son. The men scoop up Peter’s bound body, loading him into the suitcase, bending his legs so that he would fit. Peter goes along with it, is too exhausted to fight beyond a few tiny whimpers. Rumlow closes the suitcase with Peter in it, pulling it off the bed roughly. Tony hears Peter shout when the suitcase hits the floor, and his fighting intensifies. The men start to leave, ignoring him. Two men carry carry Peter out the door, and Rumlow, who’s the last to leave, knock Tony’s chair over. Tony’s head hits the ground painfully as he continues his stuggles, shouting for his son as he cranes his head, seeing Rumlow smirking at him at the door.
“You’ll never see him again.”
And the door slams and Tony is left in darkness.