Taste of Revenge [10/?]
anonymous
July 2 2009, 19:25:33 UTC
Skip this one if you don’t like references to 11/9. Just saying. Don’t ask me what I’m doing, I don’t even know anymore. Oh, and thanks so much to everyone who commented, it means a lot to me. I hope there isn’t many mistakes this time…
“I can't get up.”
He didn't want to say please. Not again.
“A- Arthur? I can’t-”
Arthur still wasn't looking at him:
“France? Would you like to be next?”
And then for a second Alfred’s breath stalled and he couldn't make it start again. He hadn't- hadn't seen this coming, not this. He’d thought his humiliation would be punishment enough, he never thought Arthur would- that somebody else would- this wasn't right, this wasn't right-
“Sure,” Francis said, smiling. Alfred tried to get up, supporting his weight on his bound arms:
“W-what? No, Francis, w- wait-”
“Oh, too late,” the Frenchman answered in a sing-song voice, smiling all the time and it’s was a little like Ivan, that happy smile that didn't quite match the situation. He knelt between Alfred’s legs, and Alfred tried to brace himself because, really, there was no way to stop this, was there? He almost whimpered in anticipation, but he caught himself and tried to be more- more heroic than this, but-
-but then Francis’ cock was inside him, pushing even faster than Arthur had, even more careless. Now there was some lube, if you count Arthur’s cum, but it still hurt like hell and all thoughts of stoicism faded away. Alfred screamed.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Francis said “Hurts, does it?”
“Yes! You’re hurting me, please, stop-”
“Good,” Francis said.
Alfred moaned, feeling him getting even deeper, and he didn't know it was possible, how big is this guy anyway, how could it hurt so much? Francis was going to tear him apart. Alfred could feel nothing but the pain, pain and more pain. He heard his own voice as if it were someone else's, far away, too broken to be his own:
“This isn't fair. It isn't fair... I helped you, all of you, I was always-”
“You helped? When was that, my dear?”
“The- the two wars-”
“Wars,” Francis said. He thrust into him, making Alfred whimper again “I’m sorry, cher but you are so tight. Let’s talk about wars. How many did you fight in the last ten years, America? Or did you lost the count?”
Alfred couldn't think. It was there, the answers, it was there somewhere, but he couldn't find it, every thrust inside him making it harder to think.
“No answer?”
“I did- I needed to- defend-”
Francis laughed. It was loud and ugly and so out of place, this laugh, that Alfred felt it like a punch in the guts.
“Defend, yes,” Francis said, traces of smile still in his voice “I know. The two towers, right? The most- how did you call it? The most coward and chocking attack in the whole story of the whole world, right? The word’s at risk, nobody’s safe anymore. You know, America, when I heard that, I thought you meant the terrorists. Now I know you meant yourself.”
“You- you supported me! All of you, you supported me...”
He remembered this, among the fragments that were those memories, he was half-crazy with pain, but this he could remember, offers of support and friendship and Arthur’s arms around him-
Arthur-
“He won't help you now,” Francis said, and Alfred hadn't realized he was calling out loud, he didn't know what he was saying anymore. Another thrust made him shriek again:
“Please, Francis- please, you're hurting me...”
“You want me to stop.”
It wasn't a question, but Alfred answered anyway:
“Yes, please, stop!”
“Very well.” he stopped moving, but his cock remained inside Alfred, and for a second the whole world was still “I’ll give you a chance. I’ll ask you four simple questions. If you give me the right answer, I’ll stop. How about that?”
“I can't get up.”
He didn't want to say please. Not again.
“A- Arthur? I can’t-”
Arthur still wasn't looking at him:
“France? Would you like to be next?”
And then for a second Alfred’s breath stalled and he couldn't make it start again. He hadn't- hadn't seen this coming, not this. He’d thought his humiliation would be punishment enough, he never thought Arthur would- that somebody else would- this wasn't right, this wasn't right-
“Sure,” Francis said, smiling. Alfred tried to get up, supporting his weight on his bound arms:
“W-what? No, Francis, w- wait-”
“Oh, too late,” the Frenchman answered in a sing-song voice, smiling all the time and it’s was a little like Ivan, that happy smile that didn't quite match the situation. He knelt between Alfred’s legs, and Alfred tried to brace himself because, really, there was no way to stop this, was there? He almost whimpered in anticipation, but he caught himself and tried to be more- more heroic than this, but-
-but then Francis’ cock was inside him, pushing even faster than Arthur had, even more careless. Now there was some lube, if you count Arthur’s cum, but it still hurt like hell and all thoughts of stoicism faded away. Alfred screamed.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Francis said “Hurts, does it?”
“Yes! You’re hurting me, please, stop-”
“Good,” Francis said.
Alfred moaned, feeling him getting even deeper, and he didn't know it was possible, how big is this guy anyway, how could it hurt so much? Francis was going to tear him apart. Alfred could feel nothing but the pain, pain and more pain. He heard his own voice as if it were someone else's, far away, too broken to be his own:
“This isn't fair. It isn't fair... I helped you, all of you, I was always-”
“You helped? When was that, my dear?”
“The- the two wars-”
“Wars,” Francis said. He thrust into him, making Alfred whimper again “I’m sorry, cher but you are so tight. Let’s talk about wars. How many did you fight in the last ten years, America? Or did you lost the count?”
Alfred couldn't think. It was there, the answers, it was there somewhere, but he couldn't find it, every thrust inside him making it harder to think.
“No answer?”
“I did- I needed to- defend-”
Francis laughed. It was loud and ugly and so out of place, this laugh, that Alfred felt it like a punch in the guts.
“Defend, yes,” Francis said, traces of smile still in his voice “I know. The two towers, right? The most- how did you call it? The most coward and chocking attack in the whole story of the whole world, right? The word’s at risk, nobody’s safe anymore. You know, America, when I heard that, I thought you meant the terrorists. Now I know you meant yourself.”
“You- you supported me! All of you, you supported me...”
He remembered this, among the fragments that were those memories, he was half-crazy with pain, but this he could remember, offers of support and friendship and Arthur’s arms around him-
Arthur-
“He won't help you now,” Francis said, and Alfred hadn't realized he was calling out loud, he didn't know what he was saying anymore. Another thrust made him shriek again:
“Please, Francis- please, you're hurting me...”
“You want me to stop.”
It wasn't a question, but Alfred answered anyway:
“Yes, please, stop!”
“Very well.” he stopped moving, but his cock remained inside Alfred, and for a second the whole world was still “I’ll give you a chance. I’ll ask you four simple questions. If you give me the right answer, I’ll stop. How about that?”
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