<--- Not the original claimant. But have a midnight fill anyways.
The room was dark and the air was cool. He preferred it that way. When he had this room built he'd had the doors reinforced with enough steel to hold back even America at his worst. The carpet he'd chosen wasn't soft to the touch by any means. It had been chosen not for it's bland, dark color, but more for the rough material that made it up. There was few lights in his little room, and very many hooks.
Kneeling in a few of them, wrapped in ropes, sealed with spells, was a pale, limp nation. His pet's skin was lit up by the few lights and he admired the way the ropes cast shadows on the pale expanse. He checked the bonds holding the unconscious body upright carefully. While this nation wasn't known for the brute strength of say, America, he wanted to take no risks, not with what he was about to do.
He shivered with anticipation. It had been so long since he'd had someone under him for the first time that the even without any stimulation he was dangerously close to comming. He tore himself away from petting the soft hair, and forced his legs to carry him over to the shelf where a clock was sitting ticking away.
Four am. He had three or so hours before his precious little cargo would wake up and he would...have the pleasure of dealing with it. He could walk away, let time tick away and come back when the body held upright over there in bondage was tense and awake. Or he thought, he could take the edge off right now and he'd have more time later.
He picked up a little something from the shelf. He walked over.
His thumb rubbed over pink lips. Some might describe them as 'feminine' but he'd never really thought so. A groan rolled up through him as he coaxed the mouth open and slid the gag home. Now he could pet and hold the soft curls in both hands and not have to hold his pet's mouth open. Suddenly he had to do something, anything, the pressure!
His hands fumbled at his belt, then with a hiss of relief, he freed himself. One hand wrapped around the longish strands to pull the other nation's head up right. Shaking slightly - nerves? anticipation? he slid himself into the hot wet mouth.
"Oh god." His pet's mouth was heaven. Hot, wet, and oh god above. He could hear the drip of saliva falling to the floor as he pushed himself in deeper. Suddenly the pliant head underneath of him jerked back.
Perhaps he'd misjudged the dose.
"Mngh!" The trapped nation panicked beneath him. He could feel the throat working, the words forcibly muffled. His pet struggled as he thrust again and again into the wet mouth. The soaked sounds of the thrusts and whines from his pet echoed.
"Easy, easy," he soothed, ignoring the desperate keens massaging his cock. "Breath through your nose, not your mouth, easy."
He knew he was getting rough, maybe too rough for his delicate looking pet? No matter. It was his pleasure that mattered. Carefully, he wound hair his right hand for better grip. He could feel the impact of his cockhead against the back of his pet's throat with every thrust, slipping down a bit to feel the muscles contract in a gag before pulling out slightly. Faster and faster his hips moved, accompanied by the feel and muffled sounds of hysterical protests.
Then -
"Ungh!" His hips snapped forward and stayed buried in the spasming throat, as he orgasmed, both hands entangled in blond curls. Cum spilled out the corner of his pet's mouth and he looked down.
Canada's eyes were closed and his body limp in the ropes, as limp as he'd been when England had first shoved himself in that throat. Sticky white fluid dripped out of his former colony's mouth and a thin bit of blood stained it pink from the broken skin along his lips. England stroked the sweat soaked blond hair with one hand.
He'd let his newest pet rest. There was time for more later, and he had America to flog anyways for pulling the living room hook out. He'd make his wayward colony bleed and then be in a mood to re-conquer Canada.
Pretty Little Ones 1/3
The room was dark and the air was cool. He preferred it that way. When he had this room built he'd had the doors reinforced with enough steel to hold back even America at his worst. The carpet he'd chosen wasn't soft to the touch by any means. It had been chosen not for it's bland, dark color, but more for the rough material that made it up. There was few lights in his little room, and very many hooks.
Kneeling in a few of them, wrapped in ropes, sealed with spells, was a pale, limp nation. His pet's skin was lit up by the few lights and he admired the way the ropes cast shadows on the pale expanse. He checked the bonds holding the unconscious body upright carefully. While this nation wasn't known for the brute strength of say, America, he wanted to take no risks, not with what he was about to do.
He shivered with anticipation. It had been so long since he'd had someone under him for the first time that the even without any stimulation he was dangerously close to comming. He tore himself away from petting the soft hair, and forced his legs to carry him over to the shelf where a clock was sitting ticking away.
Four am. He had three or so hours before his precious little cargo would wake up and he would...have the pleasure of dealing with it. He could walk away, let time tick away and come back when the body held upright over there in bondage was tense and awake. Or he thought, he could take the edge off right now and he'd have more time later.
He picked up a little something from the shelf. He walked over.
His thumb rubbed over pink lips. Some might describe them as 'feminine' but he'd never really thought so. A groan rolled up through him as he coaxed the mouth open and slid the gag home. Now he could pet and hold the soft curls in both hands and not have to hold his pet's mouth open. Suddenly he had to do something, anything, the pressure!
His hands fumbled at his belt, then with a hiss of relief, he freed himself. One hand wrapped around the longish strands to pull the other nation's head up right. Shaking slightly - nerves? anticipation? he slid himself into the hot wet mouth.
"Oh god." His pet's mouth was heaven. Hot, wet, and oh god above. He could hear the drip of saliva falling to the floor as he pushed himself in deeper. Suddenly the pliant head underneath of him jerked back.
Perhaps he'd misjudged the dose.
"Mngh!" The trapped nation panicked beneath him. He could feel the throat working, the words forcibly muffled. His pet struggled as he thrust again and again into the wet mouth. The soaked sounds of the thrusts and whines from his pet echoed.
"Easy, easy," he soothed, ignoring the desperate keens massaging his cock. "Breath through your nose, not your mouth, easy."
He knew he was getting rough, maybe too rough for his delicate looking pet? No matter. It was his pleasure that mattered. Carefully, he wound hair his right hand for better grip. He could feel the impact of his cockhead against the back of his pet's throat with every thrust, slipping down a bit to feel the muscles contract in a gag before pulling out slightly. Faster and faster his hips moved, accompanied by the feel and muffled sounds of hysterical protests.
Then -
"Ungh!" His hips snapped forward and stayed buried in the spasming throat, as he orgasmed, both hands entangled in blond curls. Cum spilled out the corner of his pet's mouth and he looked down.
Canada's eyes were closed and his body limp in the ropes, as limp as he'd been when England had first shoved himself in that throat. Sticky white fluid dripped out of his former colony's mouth and a thin bit of blood stained it pink from the broken skin along his lips. England stroked the sweat soaked blond hair with one hand.
He'd let his newest pet rest. There was time for more later, and he had America to flog anyways for pulling the living room hook out. He'd make his wayward colony bleed and then be in a mood to re-conquer Canada.