Make You Beautiful [1/3]
anonymous
March 15 2009, 01:18:37 UTC
When America awoke to find himself in complete darkness, the first thing he noticed was that he was in pain.
It took a few seconds for his groggy brain to figure out where the pain was coming from. He still couldn't see - something over his eyes, he thought - but he could feel that he seemed to be partially suspended by something wrapped tightly (and painfully) around his wrists that seemed to be digging into his skin. His feet could just barely touch the floor if he stood on tip-toes, but his ankles seemed to be similarly painfully bound. There were other spots of intense pain on his body, but without the pressure of bindings.
His mind was racing. How the hell had he gotten in this situation?! Nobody could've trapped him, he was the hero! The hero didn't caught in things like this! But he couldn't remember what could've gotten him here -
And then there was the noise of a door opening, and a cheerful, heavily accented voice called out "Good morning!" and America remembered everything.
dots on the radar as the warheads sped toward them
triggering all the retaliation systems
watching in horror as the systems jammed and failed
the missiles getting ever closer and then
painpainpain and red and fire and heat and then blackness, nothingness
"Russia," he growled through gritted teeth.
He was rewarded with a high-pitched giggle and the sound of footsteps coming toward him. "You are so angry, America! It is so strange that you fight so much when you have already lost."
"I haven't lost! I'm still here!" America yelled, hating the way the screaming hurt his throat.
"Oh, of course you are!" Another giggle. The voice was closer now, the footsteps loud against the floor (concrete, judging by the bit against America's toes). "It would be useless taking you if you were a wasteland. And I like you! I want you still, as a friend."
"We're never going to be friends," America snarled. "Commie bastard."
This time, the voice was right in his ear, a high, cold whisper that made America shudder painfully against his bonds. "I do not think that you will be fighting me." There was movement behind him for a moment, hands gently brushing the back of his head, and then the blindfold slid off his eyes.
For a moment, America wished that it was back in place.
Make You Beautiful [2/3]
anonymous
March 15 2009, 01:19:51 UTC
He was hanging between two full-length mirrors, allowing him to see every inch of his marred body. His arms and his feet both had blood running down them, thanks to the bindings, which America could finally see were barbed wire, the wire around his wrist wrapped around a large hook descending from the ceiling. Large portions of his torso and one of his cheeks were burned and bleeding. It made the pain worse just to look at himself.
"Such a shame," Russia murmured behind him as he slid his hand across one of the wounds, drawing an unwelcome yelp of pain from America. "America the beautiful gone, replaced with America the broken. It is such a shame..."
But then his smile brightened in the mirror, his expression as cold as the glass he appeared in. "But do not worry. Together, we will make you beautiful again! You will like, yes?" He rummaged in his coat, pulling something out of a pocket and holding it up so America could see the long needle clearly.
America found that his throat was dry. He had no idea what the needle was for, but he was certain that it was something terrible. "G-get me down right now, you g-goddamn bastard..." he choked out, trying to fight down the pleading note in his voice.
"Do not speak that way any more," Russia replied calmly and cheerfully as he placed the needle against America's back. "Your voice should only be used for praise now."
The needle slid into his skin, and America cried out once again, closing his eyes for a moment at the new pain. When he opened him again, the needle was gone - replaced with a small metal bar. A piercing.
Russia had already repositioned the needle at a symmetrical place on the other side of America's back. "Do not move so much, or they will be crooked! We want you to be beautiful, yes?" The needle went in again, the pain flashing through America as the piercing was slid into place.
"S-stop... goddamnit stop..." America said weakly, the strength out of his voice. This wasn't meant to happen, this wasn't meant to happen! He wasn't supposed to fall! And he just wanted to go home, go back to how it was before, go back to being the world's hero.
But here he was, dangling from the ceiling, blood running down his arms every time he shifted with pain, and Russia had run the needle through his back again.
"It really is a shame that so much is gone," Russia murmured, placing the needle one-handed as the other one reached to caress America's unburned side. The touch was almost loving, and for half a moment America leaned into it before remembering what was happening, where he was. "You were the most beautiful nation... But you will be beautiful again, with the scars I have left you and the wonderful way I will change your body. You will be so beautiful as you speak the way I want you to, as part of me..." The needle went in again as Russia's other hand moved slowly downwards.
"N-never... I'll never b-be part of you," America gasped, hating how good the other's gentle touches felt when put in contrast with the pain. "L-land of the free."
"You say that like I will not be kind to your people, America! But I am always very kind to those I like." Russia ran a single cold finger along America's member, drawing a startled gasp from the other as pleasure suddenly mingled with the pain. "Which is why I leave you alive, make you beautiful. You will see."
The slow, teasing movements continued even as the needle went in again and again, and somewhere along the line America felt himself harden a little, felt pain and pleasure start to mix more than they should. He hated it, fought it down, fought against it, but it did no good. He was too weak to fight anything, including his own body. As he hardened, Russia had no comment but to giggle and perhaps make the next piercing a little more harshly.
Make You Beautiful [3/3]
anonymous
March 15 2009, 01:20:36 UTC
Finally, there were eighteen piercings (or maybe twenty, maybe sixteen, America wasn't able to keep count) in two long columns. Russia stopped the movements on his shaft, smiling as he touched one of the bars that he had left. "Look, look how even they are! You have been a very good boy, America. Very good indeed." He giggled a little as he gave America time to examine them in the mirror.
America wanted to yell in the other's face again and keep fighting, but his body felt too weak. The pain had only gotten worse, his wrists and ankles increasingly shredded. And now on top of that there was the slightest edge of arousal, the pulses from down below that reminded him again and again that he had enjoyed what Russia had done.
In that moment, he almost wished that the nukes had finished him off.
"We are not done, not yet," Russia half-purred somewhere behind him as he held up a long, red ribbon. How America hated that color when it was in Russia's hands. "You are not quite ready yet."
He started to thread the ribbon through holes at the end of each of the piercing bars, humming as the ribbon was laid out in crisscrossing patterns. Once or twice he tugged too hard (deliberate, America was sure it was deliberate), but America was too tired and his throat was too sore to even make a sound.
"Beautiful, America," Russia murmured as he drew the ribbon through the last loop before tying it into a bow. "Beautiful and all mine. Forever."
America managed to bring out the last of his defiance, glaring weakly at the man in the mirror. "N-no... no..."
For a moment, the calm smile hardened. "No more denials. Before that, I was to let you down... but you will be fine for a night, yes? I will come clean the piercings and give food in the morning, my America."
America wanted to fight, but his hands were bound. He wanted to scream, but his throat was raw. He wanted to do anything other than hang there and tremble, but his entire body ached, the bars sending flashes of pain through his body, the wire cutting into his skin and shredding it, the open wounds still bleeding. His arousal was fading, but not enough, never enough.
At least he kept himself from crying. He would not let Russia break him that far.
"Goodnight, America," Russia murmured as he stroked the back of his neck lightly before stepping away. "My lovely."
Never yours, America screamed, but even if his mind was his, his body no longer was.
And he was no longer sure if it would ever be any other way again.
Re: Make You Beautiful [3/3]
anonymous
March 15 2009, 04:32:54 UTC
Wow. I don't know if this was intentional, but I found the corset piercings to be an extra bit of 'kind' cruelty on Russia's part. Corsets have one of the highest rates of rejection of any surface piercings (mostly due to morons who pierce with hoops, but occasionally because the skin of the back is too thin) and, if rejected, scar a lot as they work their way out of the body.
Anyway, kudos for writing this; it's just lovely and the body mod touches add such depth to this story. I look forward to reading the meme when I know that people with your talent are writing for it.
Oh, that was very much taken into account - while Russia is using bars rather than hoops, he also did some stupid things like lace them far too early and do it all while America's still injured. I think he'd find them just as beautiful if they were swollen and hurting, and use them against America like that. Also, he likes scars.
Ah, I'm so flattered! Thank you for the kind words.
Re: Make You Beautiful [3/3]
anonymous
March 15 2009, 21:35:46 UTC
I had never heard of corset piercings until now (When I saw it on the list, I thought this fic was about America forced into a corset while being given piercings!) but this fic was completely hot.
Also, the ending, GAH, I can't help but wonder how Ivan will take care of America in the morning.
Re: Make You Beautiful [3/3]
anonymous
June 5 2011, 22:53:15 UTC
THis is one of those things where I'm glad the Internet exists. And that I cant have people see my face. O////O
I'm so weird. I like fics where America is either with(consensual) or owned(non-con) by Russia, but I also know that in RL I'd go with the American Motto (Give me Freedom or Give me Death). *facepalm* Hetalia what have you done to me....
It took a few seconds for his groggy brain to figure out where the pain was coming from. He still couldn't see - something over his eyes, he thought - but he could feel that he seemed to be partially suspended by something wrapped tightly (and painfully) around his wrists that seemed to be digging into his skin. His feet could just barely touch the floor if he stood on tip-toes, but his ankles seemed to be similarly painfully bound. There were other spots of intense pain on his body, but without the pressure of bindings.
His mind was racing. How the hell had he gotten in this situation?! Nobody could've trapped him, he was the hero! The hero didn't caught in things like this! But he couldn't remember what could've gotten him here -
And then there was the noise of a door opening, and a cheerful, heavily accented voice called out "Good morning!" and America remembered everything.
dots on the radar as the warheads sped toward them
triggering all the retaliation systems
watching in horror as the systems jammed and failed
the missiles getting ever closer and then
painpainpain and red and fire and heat and then blackness, nothingness
"Russia," he growled through gritted teeth.
He was rewarded with a high-pitched giggle and the sound of footsteps coming toward him. "You are so angry, America! It is so strange that you fight so much when you have already lost."
"I haven't lost! I'm still here!" America yelled, hating the way the screaming hurt his throat.
"Oh, of course you are!" Another giggle. The voice was closer now, the footsteps loud against the floor (concrete, judging by the bit against America's toes). "It would be useless taking you if you were a wasteland. And I like you! I want you still, as a friend."
"We're never going to be friends," America snarled. "Commie bastard."
This time, the voice was right in his ear, a high, cold whisper that made America shudder painfully against his bonds. "I do not think that you will be fighting me." There was movement behind him for a moment, hands gently brushing the back of his head, and then the blindfold slid off his eyes.
For a moment, America wished that it was back in place.
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"Such a shame," Russia murmured behind him as he slid his hand across one of the wounds, drawing an unwelcome yelp of pain from America. "America the beautiful gone, replaced with America the broken. It is such a shame..."
But then his smile brightened in the mirror, his expression as cold as the glass he appeared in. "But do not worry. Together, we will make you beautiful again! You will like, yes?" He rummaged in his coat, pulling something out of a pocket and holding it up so America could see the long needle clearly.
America found that his throat was dry. He had no idea what the needle was for, but he was certain that it was something terrible. "G-get me down right now, you g-goddamn bastard..." he choked out, trying to fight down the pleading note in his voice.
"Do not speak that way any more," Russia replied calmly and cheerfully as he placed the needle against America's back. "Your voice should only be used for praise now."
The needle slid into his skin, and America cried out once again, closing his eyes for a moment at the new pain. When he opened him again, the needle was gone - replaced with a small metal bar. A piercing.
Russia had already repositioned the needle at a symmetrical place on the other side of America's back. "Do not move so much, or they will be crooked! We want you to be beautiful, yes?" The needle went in again, the pain flashing through America as the piercing was slid into place.
"S-stop... goddamnit stop..." America said weakly, the strength out of his voice. This wasn't meant to happen, this wasn't meant to happen! He wasn't supposed to fall! And he just wanted to go home, go back to how it was before, go back to being the world's hero.
But here he was, dangling from the ceiling, blood running down his arms every time he shifted with pain, and Russia had run the needle through his back again.
"It really is a shame that so much is gone," Russia murmured, placing the needle one-handed as the other one reached to caress America's unburned side. The touch was almost loving, and for half a moment America leaned into it before remembering what was happening, where he was. "You were the most beautiful nation... But you will be beautiful again, with the scars I have left you and the wonderful way I will change your body. You will be so beautiful as you speak the way I want you to, as part of me..." The needle went in again as Russia's other hand moved slowly downwards.
"N-never... I'll never b-be part of you," America gasped, hating how good the other's gentle touches felt when put in contrast with the pain. "L-land of the free."
"You say that like I will not be kind to your people, America! But I am always very kind to those I like." Russia ran a single cold finger along America's member, drawing a startled gasp from the other as pleasure suddenly mingled with the pain. "Which is why I leave you alive, make you beautiful. You will see."
The slow, teasing movements continued even as the needle went in again and again, and somewhere along the line America felt himself harden a little, felt pain and pleasure start to mix more than they should. He hated it, fought it down, fought against it, but it did no good. He was too weak to fight anything, including his own body. As he hardened, Russia had no comment but to giggle and perhaps make the next piercing a little more harshly.
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America wanted to yell in the other's face again and keep fighting, but his body felt too weak. The pain had only gotten worse, his wrists and ankles increasingly shredded. And now on top of that there was the slightest edge of arousal, the pulses from down below that reminded him again and again that he had enjoyed what Russia had done.
In that moment, he almost wished that the nukes had finished him off.
"We are not done, not yet," Russia half-purred somewhere behind him as he held up a long, red ribbon. How America hated that color when it was in Russia's hands. "You are not quite ready yet."
He started to thread the ribbon through holes at the end of each of the piercing bars, humming as the ribbon was laid out in crisscrossing patterns. Once or twice he tugged too hard (deliberate, America was sure it was deliberate), but America was too tired and his throat was too sore to even make a sound.
"Beautiful, America," Russia murmured as he drew the ribbon through the last loop before tying it into a bow. "Beautiful and all mine. Forever."
America managed to bring out the last of his defiance, glaring weakly at the man in the mirror. "N-no... no..."
For a moment, the calm smile hardened. "No more denials. Before that, I was to let you down... but you will be fine for a night, yes? I will come clean the piercings and give food in the morning, my America."
America wanted to fight, but his hands were bound. He wanted to scream, but his throat was raw. He wanted to do anything other than hang there and tremble, but his entire body ached, the bars sending flashes of pain through his body, the wire cutting into his skin and shredding it, the open wounds still bleeding. His arousal was fading, but not enough, never enough.
At least he kept himself from crying. He would not let Russia break him that far.
"Goodnight, America," Russia murmured as he stroked the back of his neck lightly before stepping away. "My lovely."
Never yours, America screamed, but even if his mind was his, his body no longer was.
And he was no longer sure if it would ever be any other way again.
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Anyway, kudos for writing this; it's just lovely and the body mod touches add such depth to this story. I look forward to reading the meme when I know that people with your talent are writing for it.
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Ah, I'm so flattered! Thank you for the kind words.
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Also, the ending, GAH, I can't help but wonder how Ivan will take care of America in the morning.
I LOVED THIS <3
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let me count the ways i love you, author!anon
anon feels like the worst sort of american, but loves seeing her country being fucking owned by russia
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I'm so weird. I like fics where America is either with(consensual) or owned(non-con) by Russia, but I also know that in RL I'd go with the American Motto (Give me Freedom or Give me Death). *facepalm* Hetalia what have you done to me....
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