For Roses Have Thorns (1)
anonymous
February 15 2010, 15:47:09 UTC
Hot, so hot and slick, filling him so much, fingers that touched and probed in exactly the right places, yes, yes, yes -
Vichy France screamed into his gag (surprisingly light and soft, almost comfortable - What?) and convulsed, feeling the world go bright and soft. He almost felt like he was floating, the hand and fingers now softly caressing.
What was this? He couldn't remember the last time when he felt so good. Where were the pain from the bruises and worse, and the ever-present hunger pangs?.
And those fingers - His body knew that hand and those fingers and more, and kept wanting to press back into them. More, mon Dieu, more, please...
And then somebody was tugging at him, tugging off his blindfolds (that was strangely soft, too - Why?), and he came back to reality with a sickening thump.
Germany was smiling at him, his eyes glazed.
" - That was most - satisfactory."
Vichy stared at him, feeling his skin crawl. It had felt so good, like nothing ever seemed to feel anymore, and -
What had the sick bastard done, drugged him? Or maybe it had been some kind of magic - that felt more likely, yes.
"......Wait, wait, I will get them off..."
Vichy stared as the Third Reich pulled at whatever that had been tying his wrists down - Which turned out to be...
Red satin ribbons?
They were beautiful and long, trailing down his stomach, now that Germany had gotten them lose.
"Hmmm. Should I - No, never mind..."
He froze ike a lump as his - Owner, right, fuck the bastard - picked him up and took him to some strange shining bathroom filled with things that he had never seen in his life. Showers that were long and flexible, and - why did that hot tub have bubbles coming out of it? And those strange soaps and elixirs...
Vichy almost yelped as Germany began to - wash his hair? Mon Dieu, what madness was this?
"Be still, now. I do not think that I have hurt you. - I haven't, have I?"
The last part sounded...sincerely worried, strangely enough. Vichy shook his head, quickly. He had no idea why his - Master - had decided to be so indulgent today, but he didn't want to do anything to change it. Not for now, anyway.
Especially since he had no idea what was going on. The last thing he remembered had been more beatings, and the Third Reich throwing him into that freezing stinking cell again, but...
He checked himself over in one of the numerous mirrors, hoping that Germany wouldn't notice. Where were the scars and bruises? His ribs had been showing, but - not any more.
And his hair looked...different. It was less the length then the styling, he felt, but...
Vichy France screamed into his gag (surprisingly light and soft, almost comfortable - What?) and convulsed, feeling the world go bright and soft. He almost felt like he was floating, the hand and fingers now softly caressing.
What was this? He couldn't remember the last time when he felt so good. Where were the pain from the bruises and worse, and the ever-present hunger pangs?.
And those fingers - His body knew that hand and those fingers and more, and kept wanting to press back into them. More, mon Dieu, more, please...
And then somebody was tugging at him, tugging off his blindfolds (that was strangely soft, too - Why?), and he came back to reality with a sickening thump.
Germany was smiling at him, his eyes glazed.
" - That was most - satisfactory."
Vichy stared at him, feeling his skin crawl. It had felt so good, like nothing ever seemed to feel anymore, and -
What had the sick bastard done, drugged him? Or maybe it had been some kind of magic - that felt more likely, yes.
"......Wait, wait, I will get them off..."
Vichy stared as the Third Reich pulled at whatever that had been tying his wrists down - Which turned out to be...
Red satin ribbons?
They were beautiful and long, trailing down his stomach, now that Germany had gotten them lose.
"Hmmm. Should I - No, never mind..."
He froze ike a lump as his - Owner, right, fuck the bastard - picked him up and took him to some strange shining bathroom filled with things that he had never seen in his life. Showers that were long and flexible, and - why did that hot tub have bubbles coming out of it? And those strange soaps and elixirs...
Vichy almost yelped as Germany began to - wash his hair? Mon Dieu, what madness was this?
"Be still, now. I do not think that I have hurt you. - I haven't, have I?"
The last part sounded...sincerely worried, strangely enough. Vichy shook his head, quickly. He had no idea why his - Master - had decided to be so indulgent today, but he didn't want to do anything to change it. Not for now, anyway.
Especially since he had no idea what was going on. The last thing he remembered had been more beatings, and the Third Reich throwing him into that freezing stinking cell again, but...
He checked himself over in one of the numerous mirrors, hoping that Germany wouldn't notice. Where were the scars and bruises? His ribs had been showing, but - not any more.
And his hair looked...different. It was less the length then the styling, he felt, but...
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