He works himself into a smooth rhythm, bringing the flaring strips of the whip slapping down on England’s back over and over, relishing the steady ache in his arm as he makes the strokes harder, then harder still. When the first drops of blood start oozing from the abused flesh and stain the dark leather, England stops his silent panting and whimpers, a helpless, tiny, drowning-kitten sound, and France tightens his grip on the cat and forces himself to keep a steady pace. His pants are uncomfortably tight, so much so that he can feel the seam of his fly against the sensitized skin of his prick. He shifts his hips and earns a little friction for his trouble. He rachets up the beating, flaying England as if the whip could tear through him and lay sweet whip marks on the wall.
England groans, deep anguish and appreciation all muddled together, arching up on the balls of his feet to get minutely closer to the strikes, his whole body begging for more. France lets the cat slip a little, lap and curl cruelly over his shoulders, lashing the bare, vulnerable territory of his neck. Then it wanders down, stinging the ripe, exposed skin on the backs of his thighs, between them.
England spreads his legs a little father. France licks his inner thighs with the whip and grinds the heel of his left hand into his groin, relief and denial in the same desperate motion. He crisscrosses England’s back with raw weals, flogging him in earnest, throwing his whole body into the force of the motion until England’s back is a wet, bloody mess of ragged edges and England is screaming in short, wordless barks and humping the wall, mindless, totally in his body and of it and nothing else. France strikes high again, this time letting the vicious strips cur around on side of England’s face, tracking his blood there.
“Hands and knees,” France orders, hoarsely, and then England just is, and the blood is dripping down his sides instead of soaking into his underwear and decorating the cold tile floor.
France tears the front of his pants open and strokes with his left hand because he can’t put the cat down, can’t stop laying into England when he shudders and moans into every hit, he jerks himself fast, in an off-tempo counterpoint to the whipping, and then France is gasping and quaking and coming in messy white streaks all over England’s fresh open cuts, and it’s not his kink, it’s really not, but way England screeches and seizes and shoots in his ruined boxes just for the sting of France’s jizz in his fresh gashes is the hottest fucking thing France has ever seen.
France stumbles and catches himself on his marble countertop (perfect for pastry), holding on until the wooziness of his overpowering climax lifts. England lies collapses on the floor, debauched and abused and filthy with both of their fluids. France pulls a washcloth out of its drawer and wets it with warm water in the sink, then kneels down beside England and starts gingerly sponging his wounds clean.
He winces, then grins.
“Alright?” France asks.
“Brilliant,” England answers, too well-thrashed and high on endorphins to come up with even a token insult. France snorts.
“Rum, sodomy and the lash, indeed,” he mutters, carefully washing one particularly deep cut.
“Three great tastes that taste great together,” England agrees, loopily. France laughs.
“I’ll make you taste them yet, you masochistic cad,” he threatens. England only smiles at him, and when France bends down to steal a kiss, he doesn’t even bite.
Well, maybe a little.
But only because they like it that way.
*
Apparently, whenever I write hardcore pain within my OTP, I then feel the need to tie it off with WAFFy, OTP-affirming fluff. I'm so sorry. OTL
This F5'ing little anon totally appreciated the WAFFy tie-off, but holy hell. Recently discovered strapping and moving into whipping territory in terms of kinks, but, yesss. Been eyeing this prompt for ages, and this is one hell of a fill, writernon. |D And it's delightfully IC, too. Thanks for a great start to the morning, mmmmmhm.
That was very good. I liked the nonsense approach England takes at the beginning and the suggestion they do this all the time is kind of delicious. The ending is cute in a wonderfully dark kind of way.
I...I really enjoyed this. Lovely use of alliteration and the off-side imagery really adds depth to the story (eg- 'marble counter top (perfect for pastry)')
And I actually think the ending was a good twist of believability. They can do this crazy shit because they like and trust each other. It's not hatesex. So- yeah. Really good work. :)
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France/England, whipping, 2/2
(Anonymous) 2009-04-05 03:48 pm (UTC)(link)England groans, deep anguish and appreciation all muddled together, arching up on the balls of his feet to get minutely closer to the strikes, his whole body begging for more. France lets the cat slip a little, lap and curl cruelly over his shoulders, lashing the bare, vulnerable territory of his neck. Then it wanders down, stinging the ripe, exposed skin on the backs of his thighs, between them.
England spreads his legs a little father. France licks his inner thighs with the whip and grinds the heel of his left hand into his groin, relief and denial in the same desperate motion. He crisscrosses England’s back with raw weals, flogging him in earnest, throwing his whole body into the force of the motion until England’s back is a wet, bloody mess of ragged edges and England is screaming in short, wordless barks and humping the wall, mindless, totally in his body and of it and nothing else. France strikes high again, this time letting the vicious strips cur around on side of England’s face, tracking his blood there.
“Hands and knees,” France orders, hoarsely, and then England just is, and the blood is dripping down his sides instead of soaking into his underwear and decorating the cold tile floor.
France tears the front of his pants open and strokes with his left hand because he can’t put the cat down, can’t stop laying into England when he shudders and moans into every hit, he jerks himself fast, in an off-tempo counterpoint to the whipping, and then France is gasping and quaking and coming in messy white streaks all over England’s fresh open cuts, and it’s not his kink, it’s really not, but way England screeches and seizes and shoots in his ruined boxes just for the sting of France’s jizz in his fresh gashes is the hottest fucking thing France has ever seen.
France stumbles and catches himself on his marble countertop (perfect for pastry), holding on until the wooziness of his overpowering climax lifts. England lies collapses on the floor, debauched and abused and filthy with both of their fluids. France pulls a washcloth out of its drawer and wets it with warm water in the sink, then kneels down beside England and starts gingerly sponging his wounds clean.
He winces, then grins.
“Alright?” France asks.
“Brilliant,” England answers, too well-thrashed and high on endorphins to come up with even a token insult. France snorts.
“Rum, sodomy and the lash, indeed,” he mutters, carefully washing one particularly deep cut.
“Three great tastes that taste great together,” England agrees, loopily. France laughs.
“I’ll make you taste them yet, you masochistic cad,” he threatens. England only smiles at him, and when France bends down to steal a kiss, he doesn’t even bite.
Well, maybe a little.
But only because they like it that way.
*
Apparently, whenever I write hardcore pain within my OTP, I then feel the need to tie it off with WAFFy, OTP-affirming fluff. I'm so sorry. OTL
non-OP
(Anonymous) 2009-04-05 03:52 pm (UTC)(link)not OP either
(Anonymous) 2009-04-05 04:49 pm (UTC)(link)Re: France/England, whipping, 2/2
(Anonymous) 2009-04-06 12:29 am (UTC)(link)Re: France/England, whipping, 2/2
(Anonymous) 2009-04-06 03:17 am (UTC)(link)Re: France/England, whipping, 2/2
(Anonymous) 2009-04-07 04:45 am (UTC)(link)Oh England... Oh France...
Re: France/England, whipping, 2/2
(Anonymous) 2009-04-07 07:28 am (UTC)(link)Anon totally approves of this Arthur beating
Re: France/England, whipping, 2/2
(Anonymous) 2009-04-09 01:35 am (UTC)(link)And I actually think the ending was a good twist of believability. They can do this crazy shit because they like and trust each other. It's not hatesex. So- yeah. Really good work. :)