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Of Scarves and Punishments	By : AutumnAlchemist Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2630 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is related to Hetalia: Axis Powers. That right belongs only to Hidekaz Himaruya. I make no money off any of his materials.

Chapter List
- 1-Of Scarves and Punishments
- 1
Russia looked at the front door that belong to Germany, smiling pleasantly to himself at this little adventure, and hearing the dogs in the back barking at his mere presence. Idly, he check her person for two things: his little canteen of vodka was in his pocket, and his metal pipe was in the hidden pocket inside his heavy navy jacket he worse instead of his winter war coat, even though the fall weather in Germany's lands was actually very pleasant. Seeing it was all in place, he smiled wider and knocked upon the hard wooden door, alerting the occupants of his presence. It was silent for a long moment before he heard a crash from where he suspected was up in the second floor. Another minute passed and just as he was going to knock again, the door opened, showing the solemn face of Germany.

�Hallo Russland. Thank you for coming at such short notice,� the Germany greeted, stepping aside to let the silver haired nation in, doing his best not to shiver at the cold aura he had rolling off him in waves, even though he was wearing a long sleeved sweater that was had no designs upon the dark wool.

�It is no problem. I just wish to help you out like fiends do,� the Russian said happily, a smile on his face as Germany grabbed his coat to put on. Said German paled and looked away for a short moment and then continued, an action not going unnoticed by the taller nation, but he said nothing to the stern blond.

�I vill only be gone for a few hours, as mein bruder went on a drinking binge vith France and Spain. I can't thank you enough for making sure Italy doesn't do anything... vell... stupid vreally,� the German said, his boots being laced up as he was talking. Russia hummed in response as he examined some of the trinkets on the walls that he could see so far. Pulling on his coat, Germany looked at the larger nation for a moment longer and nodded.

�Vell, I'm off now. Italy should be sleeping upstairs, so he shouldn't cause too much problem, but still.� Russia just shoo'd him away from the house and the German still looked hesitant, but nodded and left, leaving him in the little entry way. Russia removed his heavy navy coat, seeing that he no longer needed it on in the house. He also removed his boots, but he didn't do much else other than look around. He fished out his canteen of vodka and took a swig, loving the taste it had this time around, cherry flavored, and went to look around. He could say one thing about German homes, everything was very very organized, where very few things were out of place.

Humming to himself, Russia poked and searched at many parts of the home, curious as to what could be around here that told him more about Germany. Of course he knew a lot from their brief pact in World War II, but he still wasn't fully in-sighted into the German lifestyle. Just as he was about to go into the kitchen, he heard something from upstairs that crashed. Curiously, the silverette looked up and smiled, thinking of a something fun to do.

Going up the hand-crafted stairs, feeling the polished wood that was etched by Germany's own hand, Russia looked at the doors that the noise could have come from, and listened, hearing another sound and automatically found the door. Opening the door, he was expecting to see Italy crying on the floor because he was caught up in the sheets, not what he was seeing now.

Italy was kneeling on the bed, arms tied up above his head by a iron bar, which he was handcuffed to, stark naked, many whip marks turning red upon his body, his mouth gagged by a bright red ball that was hooked in the back, a little plastic clip around his weeping cock, and on his curl was a bright pink bow, tied tightly and give him an advantage in pulling the stray little hair. He was trembling, not expecting Russia to be here instead of his German boyfriend, but Italy still wanted to have his release, which was actually beginning to hurt now. He squirmed a bit, trying to break free of his bonds so he could run from the intimidating tank that was Russia or so he could gain more friction using his own thighs, Russia couldn't tell. All he could see were big honey eyes welling up with large fat tears.

Feeling a spark of mercy in his heart (which was thankfully staying in place today,) Russia stepped further into the room and closed the door, turning the lock and going closer to the tied nation, who stopped thrashing but trembled in anticipation or fear. Coming to the edge of the bed, a large gloved hand, much larger than Germany's ever could be, grasped a hold of Italy's chin and had him look him in the eye.

�Do not worry, little Italy. I will not hurt you, friend,� he said with his usual childish enthusiasm. He let go of the small chin to reach up and grasp the little bow that was upon his curl, and used gentle tugs upon the curl, making the Mediterranean country moan around the gag and squirm some more, further amusing the large nation to no end. Letting go of the curl, the silverette gripped his chin again and had him look up at him again.

�Do you wish for me to fuck you, little Italy? I promise to be as gentle or rough as you wish of me,� the Italian looked up, his eyes pained by pleasure he hasn't released yet or the marks that marred his skin. Nodding, Italy waited for the large nation to do something, but all Russia did was reach back and undo the clip for the gag, letting him close his mouth and work his jaw again slowly.

�I want to hear you say it, my friend. Can you say to me: 'Please fuck me, Master Russia. I want it so badly.' Can you do that?� Honey brown eyes looked up at violet before swallowing nervously, fire lighting up deep in his belly at the demanding tone.

�Ve... p-please fuck me... Master Russia. I want it so badly ve. I want to cum so badly it hurts. It hurts more than when I turn-coated against Germany back then. Please Master Russia!� He all but sobbed out, again wiggling to try and gain some friction using his thighs. Russia just smiled before removing his own shirt and undid the fly of his pants, keeping the leather gloves on because he could, and grabbed the curl once more, gaining the smaller nation's attention.

�I will, friend, but you much serve me first, Da?� He asked, giving his childish grin once more. Italy trembled, a bit nervous at the idea of taking the largest landmass down his throat. Germany was large, that is for sure, but he doesn't know if he could handle all of Russia. Swallowing down his apprehension, Italy nodded, finding his voice again.

�I will, Master Russia. I promise to be good and please you, sir.� Russia nodded and finally removed his pants, his boxers never there, and Italy could only pale and sweat at the sight. Germany was... small compared to Russia, and it made the Mediterranean country nervous, but throb more at the idea of being so full. The silverette reached up and undid the cuffs on the bar, letting the Italian fall forward as he wasn't expecting it, but he got up, waiting for his temporary Master order him for something. Russia thought Italy was going to do something, but nothing happened, and it confused the child-like nation.

�What do you wait for?� He asked, taking a long swig of his canteen of vodka. Squirming under his strong, violet gaze, the brunette bit his lip as he tried to explain himself, obviously not sure how else to tell him.

�Ve... Germany... usually has rules. Rules I have to obey or I get punished, and if I do better than expected, I get a reward,� he replied, looking back up at the large nation, waiting for his response. Russia grew thoughtful on that, nodding as it was logical before smiling at the small peninsula nation.

�Alright. I have some rules for you, Little Italy,� Russia began, bending down to pick the riding crop that was peeking out from under the bed, and held it in his hands, tapping it against his palm as he thought. �First rule, is that you may only call me Master. Not Russia, nor my human name either. Understood?� Italy nodded as he trembled, eyes watching the crop like a cat to a string, only he wasn't going to pounce on it.

�The second rule is, when I tap you in a certain are, I want you to go there. No exceptions on what you want.� The Brunette nodded, swallowing thickly as he listened for more rules, knowing there had to be more to this than meets the eye. Was there going to be a safe word? Germany always had a safe word whenever they go through their bondage sessions, always had a level of trust in each other.

�The last rule is you are to say the safe word, whenever you feel like you can't take anymore. I can go pretty far, but if I don't hear the agreed safe word, then I will continue even if you beg..� It was like Russia was reading his mind! Italy thought about it for a moment before one came to mind. �It.... the safe word will be Grandpa Rome. I only call out if I really need to ve,� the brunette said, looking away shyly at the idea of picking something different than the one he and Germany thought of, which happened to be Herr Schtick. Russia was a bit put off at the idea of talking about Roman Empire, but he decided it would work with a nod.

�Good. Good. Now, my first order is for you, to keep this little thing on, until I deem it can be removed. Understood?� During this, Russia reached out with his gloved hand and ran it along the bright red, almost at the point of purpling, cock, tapping the plastic clasp that kept the release at bay. Italy whimpered at the feeling of a slick, leather gloved hand running along his member, before nodding, upset it had to stay on but he would obey. He was a good boy, he would be for his new Master.

�Next, I want you to please me, but I'll tell you where by tapping you in certain areas. If it's something I don't want anymore, I tap you in a different area. Is that understood?� the silverette asked, his smile still in place but his violet eyes were darkened by lust and his love of domination. �Yes, Master,� Italy replied, so easy to say the words. Falling to his hands and knees, Italy moved over to Russia slowly and stood on his knees, his hands reaching out slowly, unsure of where to start. Russia just smiled and tapped Italy under the chin, and the brunette took the hint. He placed small, light kisses under the chin, like a pup would to the alpha leader of the wolf pack, and his hands gently, reverently, unwound the scarf, revealing scars Italy had never seen.

Germany had many of them, but none as gruesome as what the Russian had. Radiation burns littered his neck, along with deep gouges from battles and wars inside his lands that ran along his neck to his shoulders, but there was a strip that wasn't marred, running along his trachea and then ended at the dip in his collarbone. Enchanted, Italy licked his dry lips and kissed and licked along the flesh, bestowing affection to the cool skin that was never lovingly touched by another person, nation or otherwise. He wanted to make his own mark on the flesh, one that would never leave like the rest of these would slowly with time. But Italy waited, going down slowly as Russia tapped upon his shoulder, making the Mediterranean country move there and gently lick.

Russia was amazed at how easily Italy obeyed his every command, not even stopping to see if he should continue. He suddenly felt an indescribable pleasure as the Italian bit down upon the junction of his neck and shoulder, making the Russian's knees almost buckle at the sudden feeling. He was used to pain, not this white hot feeling that sent his knees into an almost jello state, and his own cock to throb with need. The frozen mother land reached a hand up and roughly removed the smaller nation, panting as a flush went across his nose, and saw the Italian look at him with wide eyes, a small trickle of blood dribbled down the corner of his mouth, staining his lips. The sight seemed to stir something deep in his loins, but he growled in warning, making sure the Italian knew he was not to do it again. Not that Italy would listen when he had such a fetish for biting. Why else did Germany wear so many high collared shirts? Or how he even avoided the other love nations that had keen eyes for such things.

Russia let go of the silky brown hair that belong to the smaller country and tapped his chest. �No more biting, little one. Or this riding crop goes across your stomach, making you bleed as bad as when you turn-coated,� Russia said, his sickly sweet voice holding a deadly measure of malice and intention behind them. Nodding, with a mumbling of a �yes, Master� from Italy, the brunette worked again, laving attention to the tundra nation, slowly sinking to sit on his legs, and come face-to-face with the largest cock he's ever seen. Swallowing, the Italian looked up, silent permission to do this and the silverette nodded, watching as the small nation grasped him, his dainty hands unable to grasp around with only a single hand, and he groaned low at the wet heat that enveloped him, watching the small nation with glee.

Italy had to fight the urge to gag when taking the Russian nation in, his jaw sore enough but he persevered, trying to take the large length down his throat, swallowing a bit to try and stop the saliva escaping past the tight seal he had. Only getting a third of the way down, Italy could go no further, and worked what wasn't in his mouth with his hands, sucking and slurping noisily and looking up at Russia, seeing the intent look the violet-eyed nation had while watching him. It made him feel like he accomplished something, but it still wasn't enough. He wanted to cum now... he wanted it soooo badly. Pulling back, Italy gave broad licks to the tip of the Russian's shaft, hands still moving, before looking up.

�Ve... Master?� He had the full attention of the silverette, and he swallowed nervously, unsure of how to approach the subject. �Please... I want it badly. I want you inside of me. Please Master?� Russia looked thoughtful at the idea, his hand reaching down to gently twirl at the little fly-away strand of hair, before grinning.

�If my little pet wants it so much, I guess I will let him. But I have to prepare you first, or else you may actually die.� Italy was torn between jumping with joy or whimpering in fear but he scooted back as the large nation crawled onto the bed, his weight making the springs creak and he set the riding crop aside for now, grabbing the canteen of vodka and taking another quick swig of it. Italy waited as patiently as he could, before he was swiftly grabbed by the larger nation and had the canteen opening shoved into his mouth, head tipped back, and forced to swallow the strong liquor. When it was removed, Italy coughed for air, a spray of the alcohol landing onto the night-black bedspread as he gasped for air.

�I want you to last longer than just one round, Malen?koi? Italii. I want you to keep going on until your dear boyfriend comes back,� Russia said, pouring a bit more of the strong, cherry-flavored vodka onto the Italian's entrance, which twitched at the cold liquid moving over it. Taking a gloved hand, Russia shoved one finger in and Italy gave a sound between a suppressed wail and a moan of pleasure, but instantly quieted when the Russian leaned down and soothingly shushed him, moving his large finger around to try and let him get accustomed. It was going to be a long while before Italy would ever be this tight again, especially when Russia is done with him. Of course, Italy didn't think so, but he was too busy thinking of how long he could handle the Russian, before he was sent to the emergency, put into a tub of morphine ice cubes, and an I.V. drip shoved into his ass to help get rid of any infection that may come from tearing when the Russian was through with him, but it also excited him.

---------------

Russia looked at his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom, frowning at the series of bite marks he had from the Italian on his neck, and there were many. Every time the Italian bit down through their hours of rough sex, Russia always felt like he was going to collapse in intense pleasure, but Russia took it as an Italian thing. Speaking of them, Russia turned back to the dazed one sitting in the lukewarm bathtub, which was tinged pink from the tearing and open welts he received from the large tundra nation. Italy was cleaning himself out, amazed that in three hours, he and Russia had done it a total of 10 times, and honestly, he never felt this satisfied. He just may go to Russia for when he's highly stressed like this, but stay with Germany.

Russia saw how the brunette kept lifting his head suddenly whenever it started to go down, like he was about ready to sleep, and grabbed one of the towels before reaching down, lifting the whimpering nation and wrapping him in the large, fluffy thing. Setting the shivering nation onto the lid of the toilet with utmost care, Russia reached in and pulled the plug, letting the tainted water drain down before grabbing another towel and started in drying the silky hair the Italian had.

�Are you okay, Malen?koi? Italii?� Russia asked, drying off the pale chest of the Italian, which was lean from swimming but was marred with whip marks and the occasional scar the the last war he was in. Italy nodded, still in a bit of a daze but he was awake enough to lift his foot, before being carried to the bedroom again, where he was set on the corner of the bed that was lifted of sheets, as the still naked nation easily stripped the now soiled bed and set the dirty bedspread into a corner, before putting his pants on at the least, also putting his scarf on as well.

�In the hallway, the second door to the left,� Italy suddenly said when Russia was going to ask him where Germany kept his sheets. Blinking in surprise, Russia nodded and got a new set, light blue and a bed-spread with a deep blue wave-like swirl in the center. Russia had to set Italy on his feet to finish up the bed though, and then set him down like he was a fragile doll, and then grabbed a large shirt from the closet and dressed the Italian into it, taking the towels to put with the sheets, and got a pair of boxers for the Mediterranean nation to put on. When the tired brunette was tucked in, Russia gave a small, warm smile before beginning to walk away, only to stop when Italy gave a small sound.

Turning around, Russia saw the Italian motion him over to bend down, which he did, and got a small kiss upon his cool lips. A small smile said it all. 'Thank you.' Russia was baffled but nodded, smiling before letting the exhausted Italian sleep, grabbing his shirt and canteen before leaving, closing the door and slipping the empty canteen into his pocket, and put his shirt back on. Coming into the den area, Russia was about to sit and watch some German Television, when the blond nation came in, a cackling albino behind him, and Russia smiled while the Prussian froze, staring wide-eyed before slowly scooting away, a look of pure hatred on his face before running to the door for the basement, where he lived and had an awesome time.

�How did everyting go, Russland?� Germany asked, removing his coat and boots. Russia just smiled before looking at his empty canteen. �Pretty good, my friend. But I have one suggestion to make to you, before you try to trick me again.� Germany froze, making a move to head to the kitchen, before turning and looking at him with fear upon his face. �Make sure you can handle someone a few times, before you make someone else deal with your little boyfriend. I do appreciate how well your trained him, but I do not like the idea of being used.� Germany nodded as he saw the malicious aura appearing around the tall Arctic nation, knowing he shouldn't have done so, but the blond didn't know what else to do! He was tired from work and Italy had grown accustomed to most of his techniques already.

Russia just smiled before stepping closer. �No need to pay. Having a lot of fun with Italy was the best payment I could ever get,� the silverette said, reaching out and pulling a little device from the German's collar, making him gap as Russia pocketed it and reached into his coat to push a button, which made an audible 'click' sound, like the recording was finished. With everything in his possession, Russia slipped his boots on and then his coat, before waving happily goodbye.

�Proshchai?, Germaniya,� Russia said, opening and closing the door as he began his walk back to his home, pulling out the long-distance recording device and clicking rewind, heading to the beginning and listened to the German rant and lamented to his older brother how he could barely handle the Italian's sex drive anymore and needed a break, hoping Russia's intimidating aura would throw him off for a while. Ah, how much fun it is, to still be as sneaky as he is. He is Mother Russia after all.
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Of Scarves and Punishments