A continuation of the above fic, as asked for by anons!
England was leaning back against the door of the bathroom, one hand on the front of his too-tight pants, and holding a bottle of skin-softening oil in the other hand before he froze. Just what was he doing, lowering himself to wanking in the bathroom like some kind of adolescent nation, when a perfectly ripe and sufficiently humbled (for now) colony was right in the other room? How long had this been a routine for him as of late? The golden-haired youth often forgot who he answered to as of late, listening to his people—England's people instead of England and his boss. If he had to guess, he'd place it at three times a week. And every time he found himself stroking that glowing red bottom, breath heavy and pants tight.
Every time, he locked himself away while America lay prostrate and obedient, ripe for the picking. France, that damnable wine-faced git, had already teased him long ago for not taking what was his. But England preferred his partners old enough to understand what was happening, as much as he loved to groom them into the perfect little gentlemen. But just who was he fooling here? England had to admit, he was less a gentleman than he often thought himself to be. In fact, sometimes he was a downright barbarian, and a brute or a punk, just like France said he was. And before he knew it, the door was open again.
America perked up when he heard the footsteps. “Already?” He asked, beginning to push up off of the couch cushion to stand.
“Don't move.” England's voice rang out, thick with something that wasn't quite anger, but it was definitely a type of frustration. America froze, confused by the foreign tone. The colony frowned, crossing his arms and shifting his hips to get comfortable again.
“Y...You're not going to punish me more are you? I said I was sorr—ah...!” The blue-eyed one's voice trailed off as fingers touched his still very sore backside again. But they were cool this time, and wet. “Ah...ohh...” He gave a small groan, relief flooding his system. “Arthur...” He murmured, voice surprised at the often stern nation's seeming expression of kindness.
“I was hard on you this time, wasn't I?” England asked, oil covered fingers tracing one welt from the edge of the belt slowly. The heat was still so high, it warmed his cool fingertips in no time. America simply nodded, giving a small sigh. “That's right. I was angry...” The older nation soothed, his voice a thin veil to cover his true intentions. Over the sensuously full curve of America's right cheek, feeling the weight in his hand before he switched to the other. The younger colony shifted again, and England nearly bit back a groan when he watched that taunting backside give a small wiggle. “But you see, I fear that you forget...” Over the round curves of the left cheek now, paying special attention to the welts. “Who you answer to...”
America shook his head quickly, breath a little faster now it seemed, as if he'd picked up the tinge of irritation that England's voice still held. “No? Then, it's not the colonists?” He asked, rising one thick eyebrow. Fingers slipped down between America's soft thighs, with the excuse of tending the welts that had fallen across them. Another shake of that golden head, and England's fingers danced up along that supple cleft again. “Who do you answer to?” Feeling the air cool the burn of his abused flesh because of the oil, America's voice was breathy and relieved.
“You, and the Crown.” He answered. England smiled,
“Good boy.” He praised, resting his hand on the middle of America's bent back as his fingers slid down and between the cleft of those now slick and gleaming red cheeks.
“Arthur, what are you—hck!” America's frightened protest became a sudden hitch of breath as he felt one slick digit slip into his tight, unprepared body. He rose up onto his toes, arms unfolding and hands clawing at the cushions, back arching as his head tilted back. It was everything that England had hoped for, and he pushed America's back down firmly, until his hips touched the arm again. Burying his finger up to the second knuckle, he wiggled it around as he licked his lips. “Ar...Arthur...!” America whimpered, ducking his head back down as he wiggled his hips as if to escape the invading digit.
“Be quiet and stay still, Alfred. Consider this... a reward.” England said, his lips never losing their pleased smile.
“B...but, it feels weird..!” Smack! The sharp blow to his oil-slick rear reminded the colony that while England had one hand busy, the other was free to go where it would. He got the point, biting his lower lip as his cheeks burned bright, his blush reaching the tops of his ears. England pulled his entrapped finger back slowly, shoving it back in swiftly and delighting in the way that it made America tense and gasp. He gave it a few more testing thrusts, watching as the golden-haired one curled his fingers into the couch and grunted in response to each one.
“You have to relax, Alfred...” England explained, leaning over to place a chaste kiss onto the colony's shoulder. Indeed, the intoxicating heated flesh that sourrounded his middle finger was almost uncomfortably tight. England felt his colony shift as he gave another small groan, unaccustomed to the foreign feeling of his body being invaded, even by something as simple as a finger. “You see, there's lots of things that you don't know... How can you stand up to me, if you can't even do this? You really think that I can give you more responsibility, when something as easy as this is hard for you? Relax.” And slowly, America forced his breathing to even out, fingers loosening on the couch and body going limp.
That all stopped as soon as he felt the second finger worming its way in, forcefully. “N-no, that's too much...!” England didn't bother giving another punishing spank as he felt his index finger successfully slide in to join the middle. England gave a snort, placing his free hand down next to America's as he leaned over his back, until his own panting breath was close to the golden-haired one's ear. America shuddered as it tickled the hair there, glancing to England with half-closed blue eyes and a blood-red blush.
“I'll tell you what's too much.” Those eyes closed when both fingers buried themselves deep inside of him, reaching places he never knew could be touched. England's voice was angry again, but that husky tone was back. This time, it seemed to spark a different reaction from within the shuddering, overwhelmed colony. “What's too much, is when an insolent, little colony depends on my aid, and then demands to be protected for free.” England's fingers thrust back in as deeply as was possible at each stressed word. The sound created was a small squelch each time, and America felt his eyes filling with tears of shame as heat flooded his body. “What's too much is that he thinks that he is grown and ready for the real world!”
“Ah, hah!” America's body had begun to sweat again, and his legs trembled with the effort to stay still as ordered. Each thrust seemed to reach deeper inside of him, even if his mind told him that they could only go as far as England's fingers were long. And yet he began to feel a spark of something with some of the cruel thrusts of the older nation's hand, like the very core of his being was being touched now and then. His breath was growing shorter, and it was getting harder and harder to keep his voice from rising. “A-Arthur...please! I-I'm sorry...!” He gasped, his body jerking in response to one of the thrusts again. England smiled slowly, leaning in to kiss America's tear-stained cheek.
“Shhh... I said this was a reward, didn't I? Don't be put off by my lecturing.” He explained. “You'd better hurry and finish though... Time is growing shorter, and Matthew will be home...” He sat back as America's eyes went wide, not comprehending for a moment. England decided to show him just what he meant, and he stopped thrusting his fingers, leaving them buried deep inside of the writhing body. The tips of his digits soon found the hard little nub that he searched for, and the golden-haired colony cried out helplessly as pleasure assaulted his body. And he did understand then, why some of the harsh thrusts had felt so good—because that place was being touched now and then.
England rubbed the spot mercilessly, watching America's shoulders hunch, his hands claw at the cushions, back arched and head back once again, raising up onto the balls of his feet. The youth barely noticed as as mentor slipped a third finger inside of him, thrusting them swiftly again, and each time finding that sweet spot. It didn't take long this way for the inexperienced colony to reach his end, and he came with a full body shudder, face pressed against the seat of the couch and voice muffled as he cried out.
England watched his colony's body go limp once again, trembling with release, shoulders shaking with small sobs. His fingers slipped out as his clean hand wound its way up the back of America's sweaty neck, into his damp hair. “Did you enjoy that, Alfred?” He asked. America swallowed, turning his face to the side to glance over his shoulder at the older nation.
“Yes.” He whispered.
“Good... Because it's my turn.” England surmised, setting about undoing his own pants at last. He'd damn well waited long enough, after all. By now America was subdued, and though his face reheated at the notion of what was coming, he merely gave a small nod. Turning his face back ahead again, he rest on his elbows, and concentrated on keeping his spent body relaxed. Behind him, England's hands set upon his narrow hips, lifting them to where he wanted them. “Close your legs, and put your heels together... Squeeze.” He ordered. “Good,” England said once this was done, taking one long last look over the rose-red and gleaming backside. “Now keep them that way.” And with a thrust of his hips, he slid his all too ready arousal straight in to the hilt—right between America's slick and tightly pressed thighs.
The cry that America gave was high and indignant, while England's was low and quite satisfied. Hips tight against his colony's abused ass gave off the most delightful heat—and America's thighs were tight as any virgin could be. One hand gripped America's hip, fingers slick with smeared oil, while the other found his hair again, pulling his head back so that he cold murmur into his ear, a parody of a lover's sweet talk. “Did you think that I was going to fuck you, Al?” He asked, with a low and breathy chuckle.
“W...why?” America gasped, tears of shame resurfacing.
“Because, dear boy...” England gave a roll of his hips, slapping them against the pinned colony's own and earning a grunt from the body below his. “Sex is for nations. Colonies are for nations to use. We need your resources and your obedience. So why don't you be useful for a change, hm?” He released his hair as he pulled his hips back. This thrust was harder than the last, both hands pulling America's hips back to meet his own as he pulled back to deliver another, just the same. The obscene sounds of skin slapping wetly against each other filed the living area in no time, and it was accompanied by America's muffled grunts and England's unashamed groans. Each time the older nation's hips met with the youth's welts, he bit back small yelps of pain as the tender flesh was irritated by the touch.
It was beyond humiliating, to be treated like this. As so much less than a nation, not even good enough for sex, England had said! As if his whole existence was to give the powerful nation pleasure, and bend to his will, fulfill his every whim. And yet England had taught him everything that he knew, smiled with pride each time that he returned to a more adult America. It chafed at the colony's pride, but it also pulled at his heart.
Fisting his hands into the couch again, he pushed back against the thrusting nation, squeezing his thighs tightly together. England's groan sounded deafening to the golden-haired colony, and it felt better than any pat on the head that he'd ever received. He continued these actions with every thrust, using the last of his energy to do so. England had made him feel good before, so surely that meant that he still cared for him... right?
It didn't take long for England to come after this, having been holding it for so long already. Fingers gripped the blond's slick hips tightly as he pulled back, one hand letting go to guide his own release. Just two strokes and he came, splashing his hot seed across those well—belted cheeks. Panting, he stepped back as he fixed his pants. “You... should clean up. I should be going home by now.”
“Don't go.” America startled him by stating. England grinned, a wolf to America's rabbit. As the golden-haired colony stood up, he was reminded that the boy was nearly his own height, and he almost lost his smile. If America became much stronger than he was now, he really wouldn't need England anymore. He couldn't let the youth figure that out.
“I'll be back. Soon.” He added as an afterthought. “Be good for me, and I may change my mind about whether colonies are worthy of real sex.” Leaning in, he kissed the boy—on his sweet, full lips. Walking over to his discarded belt, he lifted it from the floor. Slipping it back on, he watched as America slipped off his shirt, using it to clean away the mess on his skin with a wince. “Tell Mathew that I said goodbye.” He said, waving his hand as he left. As he rounded the corner, he stopped at the entry way of the house.
There near the rug where a pair of muddy boots that didn't belong to either England or America. They were Mathew's boots, and his slippers were missing. Lifting an eyebrow curiously, he gave a slow smile. Either Mathew had taken another pair of shoes with him when he left, or he had come in some time not long ago and left again, but only after he'd changed into his slippers. Judging by the mostly dry mud, there was no way to tell for sure when that had been, but it couldn't be before the whipping had began. England slipped on his own boots, heading out into the dreary weather. It looks like he might have to spend a little time with his acquired colony Canada as well, when he returned.
Awesome characterization, and um, seriously, that's some of the hottest written porn I've ever read. Jesus. I'm practically still panting over here, I came so hard. I am so happy and SATIATED, THANK YOU SO MUCH AUTHORANON!
Please do another sequal!! D8 Just thinking about Matt being his adorably cute uke self squirming and being all vocal under domineering!England is just so fap-worthy AFFDGKLFGJFKFHFKBNFFFF!! <3 I'll do anything! I'll have your internet spawn!!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A New Method 1/4
(Anonymous) 2009-02-02 03:29 pm (UTC)(link)England was leaning back against the door of the bathroom, one hand on the front of his too-tight pants, and holding a bottle of skin-softening oil in the other hand before he froze. Just what was he doing, lowering himself to wanking in the bathroom like some kind of adolescent nation, when a perfectly ripe and sufficiently humbled (for now) colony was right in the other room? How long had this been a routine for him as of late? The golden-haired youth often forgot who he answered to as of late, listening to his people—England's people instead of England and his boss. If he had to guess, he'd place it at three times a week. And every time he found himself stroking that glowing red bottom, breath heavy and pants tight.
Every time, he locked himself away while America lay prostrate and obedient, ripe for the picking. France, that damnable wine-faced git, had already teased him long ago for not taking what was his. But England preferred his partners old enough to understand what was happening, as much as he loved to groom them into the perfect little gentlemen. But just who was he fooling here? England had to admit, he was less a gentleman than he often thought himself to be. In fact, sometimes he was a downright barbarian, and a brute or a punk, just like France said he was. And before he knew it, the door was open again.
America perked up when he heard the footsteps. “Already?” He asked, beginning to push up off of the couch cushion to stand.
“Don't move.” England's voice rang out, thick with something that wasn't quite anger, but it was definitely a type of frustration. America froze, confused by the foreign tone. The colony frowned, crossing his arms and shifting his hips to get comfortable again.
“Y...You're not going to punish me more are you? I said I was sorr—ah...!” The blue-eyed one's voice trailed off as fingers touched his still very sore backside again. But they were cool this time, and wet. “Ah...ohh...” He gave a small groan, relief flooding his system. “Arthur...” He murmured, voice surprised at the often stern nation's seeming expression of kindness.
“I was hard on you this time, wasn't I?” England asked, oil covered fingers tracing one welt from the edge of the belt slowly. The heat was still so high, it warmed his cool fingertips in no time. America simply nodded, giving a small sigh. “That's right. I was angry...” The older nation soothed, his voice a thin veil to cover his true intentions. Over the sensuously full curve of America's right cheek, feeling the weight in his hand before he switched to the other. The younger colony shifted again, and England nearly bit back a groan when he watched that taunting backside give a small wiggle. “But you see, I fear that you forget...” Over the round curves of the left cheek now, paying special attention to the welts. “Who you answer to...”
America shook his head quickly, breath a little faster now it seemed, as if he'd picked up the tinge of irritation that England's voice still held. “No? Then, it's not the colonists?” He asked, rising one thick eyebrow. Fingers slipped down between America's soft thighs, with the excuse of tending the welts that had fallen across them. Another shake of that golden head, and England's fingers danced up along that supple cleft again. “Who do you answer to?” Feeling the air cool the burn of his abused flesh because of the oil, America's voice was breathy and relieved.
“You, and the Crown.” He answered. England smiled,
“Good boy.” He praised, resting his hand on the middle of America's bent back as his fingers slid down and between the cleft of those now slick and gleaming red cheeks.
A New Method 2/4
(Anonymous) 2009-02-02 03:33 pm (UTC)(link)“Be quiet and stay still, Alfred. Consider this... a reward.” England said, his lips never losing their pleased smile.
“B...but, it feels weird..!” Smack! The sharp blow to his oil-slick rear reminded the colony that while England had one hand busy, the other was free to go where it would. He got the point, biting his lower lip as his cheeks burned bright, his blush reaching the tops of his ears. England pulled his entrapped finger back slowly, shoving it back in swiftly and delighting in the way that it made America tense and gasp. He gave it a few more testing thrusts, watching as the golden-haired one curled his fingers into the couch and grunted in response to each one.
“You have to relax, Alfred...” England explained, leaning over to place a chaste kiss onto the colony's shoulder. Indeed, the intoxicating heated flesh that sourrounded his middle finger was almost uncomfortably tight. England felt his colony shift as he gave another small groan, unaccustomed to the foreign feeling of his body being invaded, even by something as simple as a finger. “You see, there's lots of things that you don't know... How can you stand up to me, if you can't even do this? You really think that I can give you more responsibility, when something as easy as this is hard for you? Relax.” And slowly, America forced his breathing to even out, fingers loosening on the couch and body going limp.
That all stopped as soon as he felt the second finger worming its way in, forcefully. “N-no, that's too much...!” England didn't bother giving another punishing spank as he felt his index finger successfully slide in to join the middle. England gave a snort, placing his free hand down next to America's as he leaned over his back, until his own panting breath was close to the golden-haired one's ear. America shuddered as it tickled the hair there, glancing to England with half-closed blue eyes and a blood-red blush.
“I'll tell you what's too much.” Those eyes closed when both fingers buried themselves deep inside of him, reaching places he never knew could be touched. England's voice was angry again, but that husky tone was back. This time, it seemed to spark a different reaction from within the shuddering, overwhelmed colony. “What's too much, is when an insolent, little colony depends on my aid, and then demands to be protected for free.” England's fingers thrust back in as deeply as was possible at each stressed word. The sound created was a small squelch each time, and America felt his eyes filling with tears of shame as heat flooded his body. “What's too much is that he thinks that he is grown and ready for the real world!”
“Ah, hah!” America's body had begun to sweat again, and his legs trembled with the effort to stay still as ordered. Each thrust seemed to reach deeper inside of him, even if his mind told him that they could only go as far as England's fingers were long. And yet he began to feel a spark of something with some of the cruel thrusts of the older nation's hand, like the very core of his being was being touched now and then. His breath was growing shorter, and it was getting harder and harder to keep his voice from rising. “A-Arthur...please! I-I'm sorry...!” He gasped, his body jerking in response to one of the thrusts again. England smiled slowly, leaning in to kiss America's tear-stained cheek.
A New Method 3/4
(Anonymous) 2009-02-02 03:37 pm (UTC)(link)England rubbed the spot mercilessly, watching America's shoulders hunch, his hands claw at the cushions, back arched and head back once again, raising up onto the balls of his feet. The youth barely noticed as as mentor slipped a third finger inside of him, thrusting them swiftly again, and each time finding that sweet spot. It didn't take long this way for the inexperienced colony to reach his end, and he came with a full body shudder, face pressed against the seat of the couch and voice muffled as he cried out.
England watched his colony's body go limp once again, trembling with release, shoulders shaking with small sobs. His fingers slipped out as his clean hand wound its way up the back of America's sweaty neck, into his damp hair. “Did you enjoy that, Alfred?” He asked. America swallowed, turning his face to the side to glance over his shoulder at the older nation.
“Yes.” He whispered.
“Good... Because it's my turn.” England surmised, setting about undoing his own pants at last. He'd damn well waited long enough, after all. By now America was subdued, and though his face reheated at the notion of what was coming, he merely gave a small nod. Turning his face back ahead again, he rest on his elbows, and concentrated on keeping his spent body relaxed. Behind him, England's hands set upon his narrow hips, lifting them to where he wanted them. “Close your legs, and put your heels together... Squeeze.” He ordered. “Good,” England said once this was done, taking one long last look over the rose-red and gleaming backside. “Now keep them that way.” And with a thrust of his hips, he slid his all too ready arousal straight in to the hilt—right between America's slick and tightly pressed thighs.
The cry that America gave was high and indignant, while England's was low and quite satisfied. Hips tight against his colony's abused ass gave off the most delightful heat—and America's thighs were tight as any virgin could be. One hand gripped America's hip, fingers slick with smeared oil, while the other found his hair again, pulling his head back so that he cold murmur into his ear, a parody of a lover's sweet talk. “Did you think that I was going to fuck you, Al?” He asked, with a low and breathy chuckle.
“W...why?” America gasped, tears of shame resurfacing.
“Because, dear boy...” England gave a roll of his hips, slapping them against the pinned colony's own and earning a grunt from the body below his. “Sex is for nations. Colonies are for nations to use. We need your resources and your obedience. So why don't you be useful for a change, hm?” He released his hair as he pulled his hips back. This thrust was harder than the last, both hands pulling America's hips back to meet his own as he pulled back to deliver another, just the same. The obscene sounds of skin slapping wetly against each other filed the living area in no time, and it was accompanied by America's muffled grunts and England's unashamed groans. Each time the older nation's hips met with the youth's welts, he bit back small yelps of pain as the tender flesh was irritated by the touch.
It was beyond humiliating, to be treated like this. As so much less than a nation, not even good enough for sex, England had said! As if his whole existence was to give the powerful nation pleasure, and bend to his will, fulfill his every whim. And yet England had taught him everything that he knew, smiled with pride each time that he returned to a more adult America. It chafed at the colony's pride, but it also pulled at his heart.
A New Method 4/4
(Anonymous) 2009-02-02 03:38 pm (UTC)(link)It didn't take long for England to come after this, having been holding it for so long already. Fingers gripped the blond's slick hips tightly as he pulled back, one hand letting go to guide his own release. Just two strokes and he came, splashing his hot seed across those well—belted cheeks. Panting, he stepped back as he fixed his pants. “You... should clean up. I should be going home by now.”
“Don't go.” America startled him by stating. England grinned, a wolf to America's rabbit. As the golden-haired colony stood up, he was reminded that the boy was nearly his own height, and he almost lost his smile. If America became much stronger than he was now, he really wouldn't need England anymore. He couldn't let the youth figure that out.
“I'll be back. Soon.” He added as an afterthought. “Be good for me, and I may change my mind about whether colonies are worthy of real sex.” Leaning in, he kissed the boy—on his sweet, full lips. Walking over to his discarded belt, he lifted it from the floor. Slipping it back on, he watched as America slipped off his shirt, using it to clean away the mess on his skin with a wince. “Tell Mathew that I said goodbye.” He said, waving his hand as he left. As he rounded the corner, he stopped at the entry way of the house.
There near the rug where a pair of muddy boots that didn't belong to either England or America. They were Mathew's boots, and his slippers were missing. Lifting an eyebrow curiously, he gave a slow smile. Either Mathew had taken another pair of shoes with him when he left, or he had come in some time not long ago and left again, but only after he'd changed into his slippers. Judging by the mostly dry mud, there was no way to tell for sure when that had been, but it couldn't be before the whipping had began. England slipped on his own boots, heading out into the dreary weather. It looks like he might have to spend a little time with his acquired colony Canada as well, when he returned.
Re: A New Method 4/4
(Anonymous) 2009-02-02 03:50 pm (UTC)(link)Not OP
(Anonymous) 2009-02-02 04:49 pm (UTC)(link)I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES.
Damn you though, I have American History today.
Not OP
(Anonymous) 2009-02-02 04:50 pm (UTC)(link)I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES.
Damn you though, I have American History today.
Re: A New Method 4/4
(Anonymous) 2009-02-02 04:58 pm (UTC)(link)Poor Al. ;_;
Re: A New Method 4/4
(Anonymous) 2009-02-02 10:39 pm (UTC)(link)Shit, perfect characterization of colonial and empirical. Damn, you're an awesome Anon.
Re: A New Method 4/4
(Anonymous) 2009-02-03 02:41 am (UTC)(link)WAS.
SO.
HOT.
anon you are a hero
OP
(Anonymous) 2009-02-04 12:03 am (UTC)(link)SHE THANKS WRITER ANON AND STILL OFFERS TO HAVE WRITER ANON'S BABIES.
HOT.
Re: A New Method 4/4
(Anonymous) 2009-02-06 02:45 am (UTC)(link)That was the greatest fill I've read in this meme so far.
Omg I wish I know who you are so I can stalk you.Re: A New Method 4/4
(Anonymous) 2009-03-09 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)Re: A New Method 4/4
(Anonymous) 2009-03-11 01:37 am (UTC)(link)authoranon
(Anonymous) 2009-03-31 08:06 am (UTC)(link)Re: authoranon! I need some England/Canada smex!
(Anonymous) 2010-02-24 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)fap-worthyAFFDGKLFGJFKFHFKBNFFFF!! <3I'll do anything! I'll have your internet spawn!!
Re: A New Method 4/4
(Anonymous) 2009-12-29 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)...And buckets.
There's not enough awesome seme England out there, pwning America's ass! You're brilliant, I hope you write more like this.
D-does this make Americanon a bad patriot? orz