Re: Blood and Vodka [4/4]
anonymous
July 5 2009, 07:03:35 UTC
The Russian started to move, shoving his large length into Alfred again and again, faster and harder, all the while listening to the other beg and plead for him to stop because it hurt so much and he couldn't take it anymore. Ivan held himself back, even though the pleading was turning him on so fucking much. He wouldn't let himself finish until he was sure this imbecile knew the true meaning of the word pain. Alfred was crying freely, shaking and sobbing, every pore in his body screaming for this to stop, screaming for him to wake up in his own bed and forget all about this nightmare. But the nightmare didn't end. Not for Alfred.
“You see,” Ivan panted, trying not to moan between words, “I'm so much better than you could ever hope to be. You're a toy Alfred, a stupid toy. You aren't worthy of being a country, much less being in this world.” He couldn't hold back a moan then and his thrusts became more frantic, hurting Alfred all the more. The American could see the edges of his eyes begin to fade into black, but it was at that precise moment Ivan came, with a resounding, “F-fuck...!”
He paused for a few moments, then grunted and pulled out of Alfred to find his now flaccid member slick with Alfred's blood. He casually wiped it away by smearing it on the bedsheets. Alfred's vision was restored, but barely. He could feel the blood loss creeping over him and hoped and preyed that he would just pass out before Ivan could do anything else to him. Unfortunately, he wasn't granted such a wish.
Ivan smirked at the masterpiece he had created. It was almost finished, but there was one finishing touch that he had yet to apply. He left Alfred's legs unbound; the American had no energy left in him anymore. He didn't bother fixing his pants, there was no need. He would just go back to his room and fantasize about this night, getting himself off several times over, just remembering. He made his way over to the fireplace, pleased that it was still burning brightly. He picked the large metal brand out and stared at the glowing red letters. They were in Alfred's own language but he knew what they meant. He had requested this object made just for this night.
Ivan lifted the metal and sauntered over to the bed and to Alfred, silently wishing for another bottle of vodka to pour into his wounds. He would writhe so deliciously once again...
Alfred was tired. So very tired. He wanted to sleep. Sleep forever and never wake up. Ivan abruptly interrupted this line of thought by digging the fingernails of one hand into his forearm. “This is my gift to you, Alfred. Accept it and thank me when you can.” He pressed the red hot end into Alfred's chest and took great pleasure in the sound of the searing flesh.
Alfred was gone then. He felt himself slip into blessed unconsciousness and sleep.
Ivan tossed the brand away, inspecting his work. The words were clear and he hoped they would scar Alfred for life.
“Property of Russia”
Finally satisfied with his job, Ivan sauntered to the video camera next to the bed. He grabbed it and took it with him when he left. In the morning, Arthur would find such an interesting movie in his mailbox.
Re: Blood and Vodka [4/4]
anonymous
July 5 2009, 22:41:33 UTC
Passing anon admits she hasn't got a fondness for insane!Ivan (but that's her problem), but the lovely way he torments Alfred is very clever. "Property of Russia" indeed. That and using vodka as a "disinfectant".
But what I really like is how Alfred just doesn't get why this is happening. In his eyes he's a hero and old wounds are just another thing of the past.
Anon also hopes for an aftermath fic. Great justice must be distributed! Preferably by twin brothers and British guys. "turer hexing" says captcha.
OP IS OMFGing ATM, LEAVE A MESSAGE
anonymous
July 6 2009, 03:55:02 UTC
... oh my god this was perfect. i think i love you. when`s the wedding. don`t hate yourself for writing it, it was just everything i hoped it would be && more -- the one line, where russia is telling him he`s just a toy, and the branding, and the vodka in the cuts oh my god how did you know that was one of my secret kinks --
ok i`m totally incoherent right now but just GUHHHHHHHHH brb rereading over & over and WOW.
Re: Blood and Vodka [5/4; Epilogue]
anonymous
July 7 2009, 04:31:39 UTC
To say that Arthur was mortified would be an understatement.
He had found the unmarked video tape in his mailbox. He almost threw it away, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him. There was an address scribbled in pen, stuck to the tape with a post-it. He popped the object into the player; it was already at the beginning, so he simply pressed play.
It took him a few moments to realize that it was indeed Alfred chained to the bed, bleeding and naked. Was this some sort of joke? He found his face darkening in color. This was embarrassing. Was Alfred trying to get some sort of rise out of him?!
And then Ivan came into view. And slowly, Arthur realized that this was not, in fact, a joke. This tape was the very definition of a train wreck; he couldn't look away. On and on the minutes ticked and he felt his gut tightening more with every second. This wasn't right, this wasn't fair, this wasn't-
And as much as he wanted to look away, he watched with inexplicable horror as Alfred - his Alfred, his annoyance, his compatriot, his friend, his son - was... was...
He abruptly turned and vomited into the nearest trash can.
The tape finally ended and Arthur suddenly realized that Alfred must still be there, chained to that bed. He frantically scooped up the post-it and was both surprised and relieved to know that the location was right here in his own country.
He couldn't remember the last time he had run so fast.
-------------------------
Alfred's heart was beating, but it was so very faint. Arthur was terrified that it would stop at any moment.
“Alfred?!” he spoke shrilly, looking around frantically for the key to his shackles. That bastard had left it on the side table. He dove and grabbed it, ignoring the fact that his eyes were damp and impairing his vision. “Alfred? Alfred, please wake up. You don't have to wake up for more than two seconds, just please, please wake up.” He removed the shackles on Alfred's hands and cringed when they literally peeled away, stuck to his skin with the dried blood, opening the wounds and making them leak the dark red fluid once more. He used the sheets to wipe the blood up as best he could and felt his stomach turn as the cuts and the brand on the other's chest caught his eye.
Suddenly, Alfred let out a very small groan. Arthur could have wept for joy. “Alfred? Alfred, can you hear what I'm saying?”
“...Arthur?” His throat felt so tight, so raw from the screaming. His voice was not his own.
“I'm going to get you to a hospital, Alfred. Don't move, you'll injure yourself further.” The Englishman found the phone rather quickly and all but commanded the operator on the other line to fetch the finest doctors that the world had to offer and send an ambulance to the address. He set the phone down and rushed back to Alfred.
“Arthur,” the voice-that-was-not-Alfred whimpered.
Arthur had never seen the American so completely and utterly... shattered. He had never truly wanted to and his felt his heart wrench in his chest. This was his boy. He had raised Alfred, taught him to speak, fed him, given him gifts, fought with him, separated from him, hated him, despised him... Loved him.
They waited for the ambulance, the Englishman feeling his heart break little by little as he watched his son weep.
OPPPPPPPPPPPPP
anonymous
July 7 2009, 05:30:16 UTC
"and his felt he heart wrench in his chest."
i - i literally felt that while reading this -- just - dfasdfjkl this was so HEARTWRENCHING for lack of a better word && aaahhhh those last few lines stomped my heart into tiny, tiny pieces homfg.
Re: Blood and Vodka [5/4; Epilogue]
anonymous
July 10 2009, 08:08:56 UTC
Thank you thank you thank you... I love gentle!Ivan too, but sometimes I just NEED to have a dose of non-con... and this is SOOOO wonderfully written! The whole time I was reading I was thinking "Ow ow ow that MUST hurt, oh this is wrong but why am I turned on?" The epilogue is beautiful too... at least I am glad Arthur found Alfred ;_;
“You see,” Ivan panted, trying not to moan between words, “I'm so much better than you could ever hope to be. You're a toy Alfred, a stupid toy. You aren't worthy of being a country, much less being in this world.” He couldn't hold back a moan then and his thrusts became more frantic, hurting Alfred all the more. The American could see the edges of his eyes begin to fade into black, but it was at that precise moment Ivan came, with a resounding, “F-fuck...!”
He paused for a few moments, then grunted and pulled out of Alfred to find his now flaccid member slick with Alfred's blood. He casually wiped it away by smearing it on the bedsheets. Alfred's vision was restored, but barely. He could feel the blood loss creeping over him and hoped and preyed that he would just pass out before Ivan could do anything else to him. Unfortunately, he wasn't granted such a wish.
Ivan smirked at the masterpiece he had created. It was almost finished, but there was one finishing touch that he had yet to apply. He left Alfred's legs unbound; the American had no energy left in him anymore. He didn't bother fixing his pants, there was no need. He would just go back to his room and fantasize about this night, getting himself off several times over, just remembering. He made his way over to the fireplace, pleased that it was still burning brightly. He picked the large metal brand out and stared at the glowing red letters. They were in Alfred's own language but he knew what they meant. He had requested this object made just for this night.
Ivan lifted the metal and sauntered over to the bed and to Alfred, silently wishing for another bottle of vodka to pour into his wounds. He would writhe so deliciously once again...
Alfred was tired. So very tired. He wanted to sleep. Sleep forever and never wake up. Ivan abruptly interrupted this line of thought by digging the fingernails of one hand into his forearm. “This is my gift to you, Alfred. Accept it and thank me when you can.” He pressed the red hot end into Alfred's chest and took great pleasure in the sound of the searing flesh.
Alfred was gone then. He felt himself slip into blessed unconsciousness and sleep.
Ivan tossed the brand away, inspecting his work. The words were clear and he hoped they would scar Alfred for life.
“Property of Russia”
Finally satisfied with his job, Ivan sauntered to the video camera next to the bed. He grabbed it and took it with him when he left. In the morning, Arthur would find such an interesting movie in his mailbox.
Reply
But what I really like is how Alfred just doesn't get why this is happening. In his eyes he's a hero and old wounds are just another thing of the past.
Anon also hopes for an aftermath fic. Great justice must be distributed! Preferably by twin brothers and British guys. "turer hexing" says captcha.
Reply
I have a thing for insane!Ivan, but I like writing him more than reading him. Maybe I'm just a freak.
Epilogue is very, very possible.
Reply
don`t hate yourself for writing it, it was just everything i hoped it would be && more --
the one line, where russia is telling him he`s just a toy, and the branding, and the vodka in the cuts oh my god how did you know that was one of my secret kinks --
ok i`m totally incoherent right now but just GUHHHHHHHHH brb rereading over & over and WOW.
Reply
Reply
Yay~ I'm very glad you liked it. :D
I HAVE A THING FOR TORTURING ARTHUR NOW. *failsatlife*
I'll go write the epilogue now. *runs off*
Reply
-sleep-
Reply
He had found the unmarked video tape in his mailbox. He almost threw it away, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him. There was an address scribbled in pen, stuck to the tape with a post-it. He popped the object into the player; it was already at the beginning, so he simply pressed play.
It took him a few moments to realize that it was indeed Alfred chained to the bed, bleeding and naked. Was this some sort of joke? He found his face darkening in color. This was embarrassing. Was Alfred trying to get some sort of rise out of him?!
And then Ivan came into view. And slowly, Arthur realized that this was not, in fact, a joke. This tape was the very definition of a train wreck; he couldn't look away. On and on the minutes ticked and he felt his gut tightening more with every second. This wasn't right, this wasn't fair, this wasn't-
And as much as he wanted to look away, he watched with inexplicable horror as Alfred - his Alfred, his annoyance, his compatriot, his friend, his son - was... was...
He abruptly turned and vomited into the nearest trash can.
The tape finally ended and Arthur suddenly realized that Alfred must still be there, chained to that bed. He frantically scooped up the post-it and was both surprised and relieved to know that the location was right here in his own country.
He couldn't remember the last time he had run so fast.
-------------------------
Alfred's heart was beating, but it was so very faint. Arthur was terrified that it would stop at any moment.
“Alfred?!” he spoke shrilly, looking around frantically for the key to his shackles. That bastard had left it on the side table. He dove and grabbed it, ignoring the fact that his eyes were damp and impairing his vision. “Alfred? Alfred, please wake up. You don't have to wake up for more than two seconds, just please, please wake up.” He removed the shackles on Alfred's hands and cringed when they literally peeled away, stuck to his skin with the dried blood, opening the wounds and making them leak the dark red fluid once more. He used the sheets to wipe the blood up as best he could and felt his stomach turn as the cuts and the brand on the other's chest caught his eye.
Suddenly, Alfred let out a very small groan. Arthur could have wept for joy. “Alfred? Alfred, can you hear what I'm saying?”
“...Arthur?” His throat felt so tight, so raw from the screaming. His voice was not his own.
“I'm going to get you to a hospital, Alfred. Don't move, you'll injure yourself further.” The Englishman found the phone rather quickly and all but commanded the operator on the other line to fetch the finest doctors that the world had to offer and send an ambulance to the address. He set the phone down and rushed back to Alfred.
“Arthur,” the voice-that-was-not-Alfred whimpered.
Arthur had never seen the American so completely and utterly... shattered. He had never truly wanted to and his felt his heart wrench in his chest. This was his boy. He had raised Alfred, taught him to speak, fed him, given him gifts, fought with him, separated from him, hated him, despised him... Loved him.
They waited for the ambulance, the Englishman feeling his heart break little by little as he watched his son weep.
Reply
i - i literally felt that while reading this --
just - dfasdfjkl this was so HEARTWRENCHING for lack of a better word && aaahhhh those last few lines stomped my heart into tiny, tiny pieces homfg.
thank you so, so much for this, writer-anon ♥
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I didn't think this was very good, I'm SO so so relieved that OP likes it so much. <3
And the wedding is next week, dear. ;D
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The epilogue is beautiful too... at least I am glad Arthur found Alfred ;_;
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