hetalia_kink | Past-Part Fills Part 7

Past-Part Fills Part 7

Past-Part Fills Part Seven

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Include a link to the original request (and if an ongoing fill, any previous chapters/sections).

The 'Anything Goes' request is here if you need it.

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Past-Part Fills 1 | Past-Part Fills 2 | Past-Part Fills 3 | Past-Part Fills 4 | Past-Part Fills 5 | Past-Part Fills 6

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Arthur was born in England, the bastard child of a human and a witch. His mother wasn’t a witch in the sense the humans knew, though. No, Avalia was a true witch, the result of a high fae and a foolish mortal, her magic was powerful, true and beyond human measure. He wished she was capable of loving him in a way that would make her stand against the humans. She wouldn’t though. Not for one child when she had four others.

Witches, true witches, were powerful, but short in number. So, despite their great power, they often feared humanity, and did their best to stay hidden from the catchers. They told horror stories to their own young, the ‘witches’ that humans actually caught, children born from affairs with humans.

Hybrids like Arthur had just enough magic to keep them isolated from humanity. Electricity and magic didn’t work well together. But, their magic was too wild to control, spells were hard to command, potions could work but not easily. Hybrids were the ones that humans heard stories of, witches that needed wands and familiars, outside tools were the only way for a hybrid to control their magic- more often then not, even those couldn’t help.
Most hybrids and witches lived in the wild, hidden away in forests or mountains. Since humans had first found hybrids, somewhere in the late 1850s, they’d been trained and kept as slaves. Depending on their level of magic they could be placed as anything from manual labor to sex slave.

Arthur’s magic placed him as the later.

Before the catchers had shown up in his forest, Arthur had never seen a human before. At first, he had thought they were an illusion. His brother, Angus, was oddly skilled with illusions and liked to scare Arthur. But no matter how skilled Angus was, he couldn’t mimic the smell, and his illusions rode horses, not these strange roaring metal devices.

Arthur had tried to run, but was unable to get away. He knew the forest, but he could not outrun these. He tried, made it all the way to the river before something wrapped around his ankles and he found himself on the ground. The roaring got closer, then came to an abrupt halt.

“Ya sure he’s one of ‘em?”

Arthur struggled to get up. He yelled, twisted and turned, but rough hands grabbed the back of his neck and pushed his face into the ground.

Something made an odd beeping sound, and someone whistled, “Damn, he’s pretty high leveled.”

“Better get the collar on him b’fore he uses it, then.”

He couldn’t understand them. Their language wasn’t like his, it was all nonsense. The hand on his neck disappeared, was replaced by a heavy boot on his back. He lifted his head to breathe in something other than dirt, and began to weave a spell immediately. It would likely blow up in his face, but Arthur was desperate.
Something cold and tight locked around his throat, the magic he’d begun to feel disappeared, and a cold fear struck him. He struggled, kicked, screamed, even pleaded, as the men dragged him back to their metal horses, they ignored him completely, just laughed and spoke to each other in that odd language of theirs.

The trip out of the forest was long and frightening. Arthur had never left the forest before, had never had reason or want too. He didn’t want to now. But there was no choice to be had as they dragged him, pushing their metal horses until they came to a large metal cart and a bigger metal thing. They shoved him inside the covered hole in the thing, in the back, loaded the metal horses into the cart, then got in. There was an iron link wall between them, the humans continued to talk, the machine turned on and it lurched into movement. Arthur let out a panicked sound, and braced himself. The humans just laughed.

Arthur’s life changed immensely. He couldn’t even tell how it happened. After a while, he’d gotten used to the feel of moving so quickly, though he couldn’t help the nausea, or throwing up when they came to a sudden stop outside the forest. The humans looked back at him for that, made disgusted sounds and put down the glass panes, letting wind hit them all hard. Arthur laid himself down on the backseat, trying not to cry, as he pulled at the collar around his throat.

When they came to the last stop, the men dragged him out, threw him on the ground and laughed. After that, everything was a bit of a blur. They took him inside a big building unlike anything he’d seen before, and stripped him of his clothes, hosed him off. Then things got bad. He was passed from one person to the next, from one tiny cage to another, until the Trainers finally got him. They poked and prodded him, took samples of all kinds, before locking him in a small room with a bed in it. His training began in the morning.

Between when he was caught, and when the Trainers sent him to the market to be sold, Arthur learned a good deal of English. His was still broken, but that didn’t matter because he was a slave, and a slave doesn’t need to speak, just to understand the orders given to them, and he did. He could follow orders, he could do anything his owner asked of him, in a sexual manner at least. He could take a beating, could deal with high arousal for a long period of time, knew how to use his mouth, and move his muscles to give the most pleasure to whoever might chose to take him. Arthur’s pride, which he’d had a plethora of before being captured, was pushed to the very back of his mind, along with his free will, and his desire to be back in his forest again.

The iron collar never left his throat until the day of auction. One of the trainers took it off, scrubbed his raw throat until the green was faded and his throat ached, and slid a slim leather collar into it’s place. Beneath the leather that would show, the iron links dug into his throat, would leave circles against his skin. He was so used to pain at this point it didn’t bother him enough to make him react to it. Like the good slave he was trained to be, he kept his gaze down on the floor. Didn’t move, even when the long robe was draped over his shoulders, the first piece of clothing he’d worn in over a year.

The auction was held in London, England. It was one of the biggest auctions around, held only once a year, and people from all over the world came to sell their goods and to buy. Arthur was part of a the main show for sex slaves. He’d been trained by expert trainers and his price was high. Many came and looked at him, some even paying the fee to touch him, running their fingers over his arms and legs, taking hold of his erect penis, kept as it was by a slim black band around the base.

At the main event, he was brought up on the main stage by himself. Kept his head bowed until the man with the microphone and the whip tilted his head up. Arthur couldn’t help blinking and trying to look away from the bright flashing lights. He was glad when he was allowed to look down again.

Arthur was bought by a woman who was mid travel. She had flown in from Paris the day before the auction, and was leaving for America at the end of the week. She was older, big violet-blue eyes, and long pale brown hair pulled back into a french twist. She spoke English in a heavy accent, and had no qualms about touching every inch of Arthur before she signed the papers. She asked for him unbranded, and made a tutting sound when she found the small brand on the bottom of his foot that marked him for who had trained him.
She didn’t want him for herself though. He was a gift, she said, for her daughter, back in the States. The only complaint she had about him was his eyebrows. He didn’t like her, but he was obediant, quiet, and good. She took him with her to the hotel, and in the morning a tailor came, measured every inch of him, brought out bolts of fabric for the woman, Mistress Fleur, to inspect and choose from.

Clothes were made post hast, and Arthur was dressed for the flight at the end of the week. He was, however, terrified of the plane. He’d grown used to cars, and phones, but other things… appliances, lights, even indoor plumbing was something he was a bit sketchy on. So a plane was far beyond his comprehension.

It took two others, and a vicious slap from Mistress Fleur to get him onto the plane, and he pressed himself back into the seat given him, clutched the arm rests and spent the trip afraid to blink.

When they reached the United States they went first to Mistress Fleur’s home. The estate was huge, with luxurious gardens, a pool, and a grand marble staircase.

He was bathed, clothed, and when the evening came, he was taken from the estate into the city. Arthur didn’t understand the huge metal buildings that went up into the sky, but he’d learned not to question them. Mistress Fleur took him into a big building, led him into an elevator- another thing that he didn’t fully understand. The metal box moved, and Arthur pressed himself back against the wall until the doors opened, and Mistress Fleur pulled the leash attached to his collar.

She led him down a long hall to a corner apartment, and inside. It was a small place, just a two bedroom flat, and nicely furnished. It was nothing compared to the estate he’d been taken to before, but still better then the small box like rooms the trainers kept him in. There was one person in the room. A short, dark haired man with features Arthur never seen before. He wore a sleek collar around his throat, and bowed low to Mistress Fleur, “Madame Bonnefoy, Miss Amelia is at work…”

Fleur waved him off, “I am aware. I’m leaving her a gift in her room, do not disturb it. Understood.”

A curt nod was given, and Mistress Fleur led Arthur into a bedroom. It was small, with a nice sized bed, cherry wood dresser and night table. The room was clean, bed made. Fleur took Arthur’s clothes, folded them and placed them aside, then left him in the room with strict orders to stay there, his Owner would be arriving soon.

Arthur, nude except for the collar, and the black band Mistress Fleur had placed on him before they’d left the estate, stood in the middle of the room, uncertain of what he was meant to do.
Eventually, he got on the bed, kneeling like he’d been taught, knees spread wide, hands at his sides so as not to cover himself at all. He stayed like this a long time before he heard the doorknob begin to turn. As the door started to creak open, Arthur leaned down, resting his cheek on the soft comforter and tilting his head just enough that he could look through his lashes.
The woman that had stepped into the room was in her early thirties, curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, her clothes were not as fancy as Mistress Bonnefoy’s had been, pants and a t-shirt with a leather coat.

The look of shock on her face shifted. First into horror, then anger, then utter and complete embarrassment. She turned around, slammed the door behind her, then shouted.

Confused, and worried, Arthur looked up, but didn’t move much. Was he unwanted? Would he be sent back? Resold? Resold slaves did not get good treatment, he’d heard the stories, the fear that washed over him at the idea made him tremble as he placed his cheek back against the bed.

Interesting, I like the set-up so far. Look forward for more.

Oooh, this looks very promising!

I really like your setup and world-building here. Arthur isn't the way I usually see him/write him, but there are solid, in-story reasons for it here, and I like it. One of the things I love about England as a character is that he's very versatile. I'm also very intrigued by Ameila. We've only gotten a glimpse of her so far, but that glimpse really fits for her.

I'm very eager for more!

ASDFGHJKL;

I LOVE THIS.

The direction you're taking with this fill is extremely interesting. I also love UK/Fem!US. Or in this case, Fem!US/UK, I suppose. xD And I adore fills with the 'witch' part of England's fanon/canon, so this whole fic is like Christmas for me.

I've got to admit, I REALLY hate whiny-gaspy-uke!England as it makes very little sense to me, but I'm willing to make an exception here because you seem like a competent enough writer not to make it embarrassing to sit through. I'm intrigued as to how you'll tackle it. Slavery and noncon/dubcon isn't usually my thing either, but again... I'm very interested in how you'll tackle it.

Provided the whole fic is as awesome as this beginning - which is a high standard to meet, granted - you have yourself a loyal reader. <3 <3

...Is it wrong I lol'd at Fem!France buying basically a sex toy for her daughter? Oh France, you are the same in every universe and you should never, ever change.

Femmerica's reaction intrigues me. Is she highly anti-slavery? Is she annoyed because her mother bought her a sex toy and thought it would be a good idea? Is she turned off by the eyebrows?

And Arthur! He's been taken away from his family, abused, broken down and degraded... and yet his first thought is "Am I unwanted" ;u; LET ME HOLD YOU. This whole thing is either going to break my heart or send me to my bunk. Currently I'm thinking the former.

Can't wait to see more. <3 <3 <3

... this is really amazing so far...

I am fascinated by this fill, and you've only just begun. It is very interesting. I look forward to seeing where you're going to take this.

Oh wow!
I haven't read USUK in such a long time. This was very refreshing.
I definitely look forward to more, you have set up such an interesting world; and Arthur is like I've never seen him before. Can't wait to see what you do with this.

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Past-Part Fills Part 7

As You Wish, Miss Jones - Chapter 1 [1a]

As You Wish, Miss Jones - Chapter 1 [1b]

Re: As You Wish, Miss Jones - Chapter 1 [1c]

Re: As You Wish, Miss Jones - Chapter 1 [1c]

Re: As You Wish, Miss Jones - Chapter 1 [1c]

Re: As You Wish, Miss Jones - Chapter 1 [1c]

Re: As You Wish, Miss Jones - Chapter 1 [1c]

Re: As You Wish, Miss Jones - Chapter 1 [1c]

Re: As You Wish, Miss Jones - Chapter 1 [1c]