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Post by Russia on May 21, 2011 21:24:02 GMT -5
The Russian had been insanely amused to see Hungary’s eyes widen at mention of her precious leader. It was no mystery to him how much the rebellious Hungarians looked up to the man. No doubt his horrific execution would be a major strike to their will. Maybe after they had lost their figurehead, then they would settle down and become easier to push back into line. Not that his Red Army was having too much of a difficulty with the task right now, but quickly forcing the Hungarians back into place could only be a good thing.
"A greater man than any Russian could ever hope to be. Will die a hero and a legend."
She had managed to stand finally, but Ivan’s swing of the pipe connected with her hand with a sickening crunch. Her rifle could not withstand the blow, and was sent flying out of her reach. “I don’t know about the dying a “hero and a legend” bit, but I can assure you about the dying.” In his haste to get closer to the Hungarian, Ivan did not dodge the blow to his jaw in enough time, and he stumbled back just a bit at the impact. Their was a coppery taste of blood in his mouth and instinctively he ran his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were all there. She had luckily not him hard enough to knock a tooth loose, so he assumed the bloody taste was because of the blow making him bite down on his tongue.
He did not have time to think on the issue though, as Hungary was lunging towards him in a fury, her hand catching him in the chin forcefully and pushing his head up in the process. Regaining his senses quickly, The Russian managed to catch her leg however, ruining her attempts to catch him in the side with the limb.
The next moments were a blur as his opponent avoided his attack and then ended up coming at him with a knife. She was such a feisty creature! Far better with holding her own in a fight than he had anticipated. But then again, the last time they had met, he had had her in chains and she had not been able to fight back against him. It was a fun yet painful challenge in a way this time around, although he was certain of his own victory. His surprise at being lunged at with a blade subsided very fast, and he averted the blow to a less devastating slash along his forearm. Ignoring the sharp sting, the Russian focused only on advancing and trying to get a decent hold on his opponent. If he could just get a grip on her, there would be no way should could break free from him.
But an easy victory was not in store for him tonight in their personal fight, and the pissed off Hungarian nation put up too big of a fight. After her annoyingly dodging his pipe, she managed to get her hands on her own metal weapon, pushing the game into some sort of sword play with pipes. He relished the moment when they were finally forced into a stand-off, pushing all of his physical might into forcing her back. Then the fiery opponent pulled her weapon along to the side, and managed to knock his pipe right out of his grasp with the move. There was a sudden motion of something flesh colored moving for him, and the Soviet lashed out and grabbed onto Elizaveta’s wrist crushing it and then grabbing the other wrist that had flown for him. He kicked the knife away as it hit the floor near his feet.
A sudden blow to the shin and his grip slackened enough for her to slip free and shoulder him in the gut. The blow knocked the air from his lungs, but he gripped her as he fell, taking her with him. Surprised and dazed, he blinked for a moment as he registered that Hungary was now straddling him and holding onto his bloodied scarf.
"We're going to Hell together IVAN!"
The usually comforting piece of beige-ish fabric was pulled tightly, chocking off his breath and drawing his hands up out of instinct in an attempt loosen the garment. One thing was for sure, he did not at all like her sitting on him in such a fashion. The position gave her more strength with which to pull, and inconvenienced him. Struggling for breath, his violet eyes narrowed in anger as he focused his sights on the woman above him.
Getting his hand up and under the scarf so as to loosen it was proving to be a chore, and he was starting to feel so very dizzy from lack of air. The loss of blood from earlier must have weakened him in order for a nation like Hungary to have had such success in strangling him. Usually he was sure that he would have been able to pull the scarf from her hands and free himself relatively quickly.
Desperate to get free, Ivan continued to claw at the scarf with one hand while he slipped his left hand down, finagling to get a grip on the hilt of his knife that was strapped on the inside of his coat. His fingers brushed the steel hilt before he was finally able to grab onto the wicked blade. With as strong of a grip as he could muster, he reached up and slashed for Hungary’s throat, attempting to both cut and stab at the same time and make her loosen her grip. ________________________________ ((Sorry for not being able to give you much to work with. I leave it to you whether or not the knife hits home. ~))
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Post by Hungary on May 30, 2011 2:17:52 GMT -5
The look on the Nation's face was murderous as she yanked on the ends of the scarf, gasping at the pain that wracked her body but determined to squeeze the life out of the Russian. She grit her teeth as her body strained to keep hold on him, pressing her knees into his shoulders tightly despite his struggles. Luckily his wounds seemed to have weakened him, allowing her to maintain her death grip on him. She watched as he clawed at the fabric, gasping for air, trying to pull the scarf away from his windpipe but finding it difficult, she read the anger and frustration on his face with a somewhat pang of satisfaction.
Die Ivan...you bastard...
She caught the flash of movement too late. Her head turned slightly towards the movement as she felt metal pierce her flesh. A sharp pain shot up from her chin through her jaw and to the back of her head. Her eyes widened in shock as the light of life slowly flowed out of the emerald orbs. Blood sputtered from her lips and her grip on the scarf went slack. Ivan had stabbed her with the knife, burying the blade deep into her flesh, slicing through skin and bone. It was quick, and as he yanked the knife out of her lower jaw, her lifeless body fell backwards, crumpling to the floor in a pile of bruised flesh, torn clothes and a thick pool of crimson blood.
Hungary was dead.
******************
The world was black. A frantic mind mulled over events. Remembering screams, remembering gun powder, blood and pain. Elizaveta shot bolt upright, eyes wide with shock. She grasped at her neck, feeling the chin where she had taken the final blow but finding nothing there but soft fair skin. Her chest heaved as she sucked in shaky breaths, her hands falling to her sides as she realized she was no longer in the Parliament building. No longer did she hear the artillery or the crumbling of buildings around her. Her heart sank as it dawned on her what this could mean...
"Erzsébet..."
She had failed.
"Erzsébet..."
She turned her head to see Imre Nagy sitting in a chair by the cot she was sitting on. His face marred with lines of weariness, bags etched under his eyes, his clothes tattered and disheveled, but his eyes still glittered with strength. With the stubborn pride Hungarians were well known for.
"How long?" she gasped, her fingers grasping the blanket that had been draped over her.
"A few days ago you appeared. I got you onto the cot, it was like you were in a coma..."
Hungary sighed, she had died on the battlefield many times before but for some reason this time....this time it really struck home. She peered down at her lap realizing she had been changed out of her uniform and now wore a plain white shirt that buttoned up the front and beige slacks. She looked up at her boss, he was watching her with a steady gaze, his face betraying no emotion after moments of peering into the man's eyes she broke down, tears stung her eyes as she fell forward, the man reached out and caught her in his arms as she sobbed against his soldier. The thick taste of defeat lingered in her mouth and the tingling in her jaw where she had felt that knife pierce her flesh.
"I failed.....I failed I'm so sorry..." she sobbed into her boss' shoulder, clinging to the fabric of his disheveled suit.
He rubbed her back reassuringly, knowing his touch wasn't the comfort she would need now, but it was the best he could give to her "Shhhhh. We did all we could...."
She cried into his shoulder, her own shaking with her sobs, she cried shamelessly, she was unable to free her people she was again to weak to break free and now her boss....
"Where are we?" she pulled back and wiped at her eyes.
"In a holding room here in Buda. They let me return here briefly..."
"Briefly?"
"Soon they will be escorting me to Romania...for my trial"
"Imre..." she covered her mouth as she regarded him with a saddened gaze "I...I failed you I am sorry."
The man managed a faint smile, reaching out to touch her shoulder reassuringly "You did as any other Hungarian would. You stood tall and proud and fought bravely for our freedom. Never could I have asked for more of you."
"But Imre..."
"Look at you Erzsébet. You alone are proof that we have not failed. Our people still live and as long as we live, our stubborn hearts will not give. You are our hope Erzsébet the life you breathe is what sustains us all. If anything it is I that should be sorry, It is I that have failed you..."
"No Imre....no...you gave us the courage to fight again...to stand up against them..."
The man sighed, leaning back a bit in his chair "We've all done what we could...though despite these unfortunate events, we can't let them smolder our resolve. I want you to promise me something Erzsébet."
"Anything."
"My one wish....was that my daughter, my darling Erzsébet, would live to see a free Hungary...as well as the children of this generations, and future generations. Please Erzsébet don't give up. Recover....get strong once more and when the time is right. Take that chance. They will stand by you and I have no doubt you will free this great land"
She felt the tears sting her eyes again as she looks down into her lap "You put too much faith in me..."
"I believe in you. As I believe in all our people. Please promise me Erzsébet. Do not give up..." Nagy was interrupted as the door opened suddenly and two Soviet soldiers appeared in the doorway. "It seems they've come for me..."
Hungary reached out and grabbed Nagy's arm "I promise Imre! I won't stop! He'll have to snuff me from the face of the Earth before I ever stop...." Nagy patted her hand, a warm smile on his weary features "You will always be remembered, I swear it Sir. I will erect a statue in your honor and memory and we will share your story to the future generations of Hungary. You will be remembered as a hero...."
"Now now Erzsébet, it is you that put too much faith in me..." Imre stood and folded his hands behind his back compliantly as the soldier cuffed him. Hungary glared at the Soviet and tried to get up from the cot, but she was still very weak and slumped down onto her legs. Imre shook his head at her "Focus on recovering Erzsébet. The People need you more than ever now"
"But Imre..."
"I have accepted my fate Erzsébet I took a great risk and I have no regrets. Remember your promise and focus on the task at hand"
Hungary sighed, defeated once again "Yes sir..."
The soldiers led her boss out of the room and that was the last time Elizaveta had ever seen Imre Nagy.....
************
She had no sense of time, no clue of how many minutes or even seconds ticked by. All she knew was she was slowly healing from her defeat. Her people had once again persevered from devastation, she could feel their lives as if they were a part of her own flesh. Hungarian hearts were strong indeed and refused to be snuffed out. The feeling of them, still clinging to life, still stubborn gave her new found strength to recover. She knew she had to keep her promise to Imre, never give up. Her pride would never allow it.
She knew they would be coming for her soon and she was right. The Soviet soldiers returned for her and clasped her in chains, taking her with them and leading her out into a dim hallway. They led her along the hall and through a door onto a small stairway, leading down into a dark basement. She shuddered as she descended the steps, prodded by the barrels of rifles. She had knew this would be coming however, and again she focused on the lives of her people for her courage and strength.
She winced as her bare feet touched the stone floor but she kept her pace as she followed the soldiers to the adjacent area were she saw chains hanging from the ceiling. She peered at them with stern green eyes. She would not falter, she would remain strong, no matter what that bastard did to her she would keep her promise. She would always be the symbol of hope for her people.
One of the soldiers went to work uncuffing her, the other held his rifle trained on her should she decide to flee. Once she was uncuffed the soldier tending her peered into her eyes. They were hard and fierce as they returned his gaze. The Soldier smirked at her despite her strong appearance.
"I suppose you know whats about to happen?" he spoke to her in broken Hungarian. She understood him well enough, but she found the abuse of her language a bit insulting.
"If you're hoping to intimidate me" she returned in broken Russian, a bit of insult of her own "You're wasting your time."
"Well if it's any condolence..." the soldier leaned in, causing her to lean back distastefully "He's ordered you prepared...untouched."
"How generous of 'Master'" she spat back at him, her eyes glinted with disgust as the soldier reached behind her and grabbed a fist full of her hair, wrapping it tightly around his fist. She glared as he drew his knife and cut the hair at the nape of he neck, showing her the long amber strands before her eyes before dropping them to the floor, she then moved to cuffing her in the chains above but in a way so that her arms were spread open wide above her shoulders. He then walked around to her back and took the knife, slicing through the fabric and the back of her brazier, the garments falling forward and leaving her back bare and exposed. The soldier pulled the cut shirt off of her and removes the rest of her garments, leaving her top half exposed to the chill air. She cringed, she missed the feel of her long amber locks already, her hair now cropped short and leaving her exposed skin to shiver in the cold of the room. She stared hard at the wall however, fierce determination in her eyes. Let them do their worst. She knew Pain, she knew death, nothing would keep her from keeping her promise.
She would remain strong....she would persevere....
She would never give up.
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Post by Russia on Jun 3, 2011 15:37:33 GMT -5
A rush if sadistic glee went through the blonde as his blade connected with flesh. His opponent had been too late to block the move. The fiery Hungarian had been so absorbed in the task of cutting off his air, that she had left herself open for a counter attack. The mistake would cost her a trip to her boss, that much Ivan was certain of as he watched her eyes widen in shock and felt some of the blood drip from her pale lips and land on his arm.
Warm blood coated his hands as he pulled the blade free. For a moment he was sure that Elizaveta was going to collapse on top of him, but then she leaned backwards and feel off and to the side, hitting the floor with a dull thump. The Russian merely reached up and loosened his scarf at first, taking deep, shaky breaths as he regained his senses completely. His throat hurt, and he could still feel the dull throbbing of his gunshot wounds resurfacing in full. Slowly, he rolled over to the side and scrambled to his feet, his hands leaving smeared, bloody handprints on the hardwood floor in the process.
Brushing a few sweaty strands of flaxen hair out of his eyes, he studied the other nation’s still form for a moment almost wearily. After the fierce fight she had put up, he half-way expected her to get up again at any moment and continue her attack. Knife still in hand, he approached the body cautiously, nudging her in the side with his boot once he got close enough. She seemed to really be “dead” though, so Ivan re-sheathed the knife in his coat. She would vanish soon enough, and he knew right where she would go, so all was well. He would properly punish the nation herself after her leader had been dealt with. Having incapacitated his foe for the time being, Ivan was set on helping some of his Soviets finish up outside, and then perhaps dealing with his injuries. Probably not in that order.
Having collected all the weapons that had been scattered about the library, Russia made his way back outside and into the smoke-filled streets of Budapest.
************************************
Despite the Hungarian rebel’s efforts, the Red Army were doing a fine job of crushing the resistance. There were still pockets of them of course, scattered about mainly in the industrial areas, but over the last few days Russia’s forces had been quickly exterminating them. With their precious leader being drug off for his trial and execution in Romania, Ivan was confident that things would very soon settle down. Once the people had gotten those unhealthy and silly ideas of freedom out of their heads, things would be back to normal and everything would be fine. Why there were still Hungarians trying to fight against them was what confused him. Didn’t they know by now that it was useless? Both the people and their nation were far to defiant for their own good.
Now that it had been a few days since their last encounter in the library, Ivan suspected that Hungary would be awake now, and ready for her punishment. He had sent two of his soldiers in advance to go chain the weakened nation up. He wanted to punish her properly, and he couldn’t do that if she was free to struggle and try to escape. Not that she could, but the sadistic blonde preferred to be able to spend his energy more on the punishing and less on trying to keep her from running away. Things would be so much easier if Elizaveta would be more like Toris, who accepted his punishments and would hold still without any chains. Granted, Toris had not always been so good about holding still for his lashes, but he had at least learned after awhile. Maybe Hungary would too if she kept needing these punishments.
Though he had not been able to get back home and get his own whip, the sadistic Russian had gotten one that looked very similar for the occasion. It was a slightly shorter bullwhip than the one he struck Lithuania with for punishment, but it would work just fine for his purposes. He also had his knife, just in case the whip wasn’t enough to make her see the errors of her ways.
Making his way down into the basement where he had ordered his captive to be placed, Ivan curled the whip in his hands in anticipation. With all the fighting that had been going on, he looked forward to being able to have some fun of his own. Not that battles were not entertaining, but he had never had the time to satisfy his sadistic urges with the normal Hungarians he had been fighting. Bullets killed far too quickly.
Entering the dimly lit room, the Russian noticed his two soldiers staring at the chained nation in amusement. They had cut her hair and stripped the upper half of her outfit away, exposing an expanse of pale flesh. He wrists and this time her ankles too, were cuffed, to offer minimal movement. But being a nation, it was always best to air on the side of caution concerning shoddy restraints. The ones on her ankles looked especially loose and weak. She might be able to break free of them is she were to kick and struggle hard enough.
“Well now, Elizaveta, are you ready to play?” he greeted in a sing-song voice that was all the creepier because of his naturally lower intonation. First slinking around behind her, he reached up and checked the cuffs on her wrists. They seemed solid enough to hold at least. “You can go now.” he informed the soldiers.
A bit hesitantly-and with frowns at the idea that they would not get to see the beating of what they thought of as a high ranking Hungarian rebel- the soldiers turned to leave.
Once they had left, Ivan ran a hand playfully through what was left of Hungary’s hair, walking around to stand in front of her now. “Look at the trouble you got yourself into.”
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Post by Hungary on Jun 15, 2011 20:36:21 GMT -5
“Well now, Elizaveta, are you ready to play?”
She cringed at the familiar voice. She had known he would be coming, but it still disturbed her whenever she heard it. She looked up to reguard the Russian with a hard stare, her cheeks a light hue of pink. She understood why they stripped her top bare. It would make the whipping much more affective and she spotted the whip in Ivan's hand. Yet they did her a favor, clothing would not chafe or bother whatever wounds she received, which might make the aftermath a bit less painful. It was then she realized as they were all staring at her in a lurid manner, that this was also meant to shame her and wound her pride.
It worked....a little.
She watched as he circled around her, a predator stalking it's prey. She felt herself shudder a little under his violet gaze, she felt him checking her restraints.
Scared i might break free Ivan? You should be...I'd be on you in a heart beat...
“You can go now.”
She turned to watch the soldiers leave. She couldn't help but feel a bit relieved however as they left. The wouldn't be watching her with those wolfish smiles. She swallowed hard, trying her best to remain calm. She cringed however as she felt his fingers in her hair, gritting her teeth in disgust. Knowing she was helpless at this bastards mercy. But if she knew Ivan it would just be beatings. He seemed to focus more on the pain and she knew she could at least deal with that much. It would hurt, but she would heal.
“Look at the trouble you got yourself into.”
"And I would do it again!" she snapped. "Don't even bother. Your words mean nothing...." she tested her bonds, finding them tight and uncomfortable. "You can't stop me Ivan. I'll heal, I'll come back. And add even more scars to that body of yours" she sneered defiantly at him, her green eyes fierce and somewhat taunting.
OOC: Sorry for the length, but not much I can really do at the moment
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Post by Russia on Jun 17, 2011 16:42:29 GMT -5
The Hungarian wore her usual defiant expression, her eyes burning with something that Ivan was quick to write off as hate. It really didn’t matter. She could hate him all she wanted and that wasn’t going to change anything. He may have been naïve concerning some things, but he was not stupid enough to think that all of his subordinate nations liked him or enjoyed being under his rule. The Baltics maybe, they never complained or acted up much. The others however could be more difficult to work with sometimes, and surely that meant they were not exactly happy with their places under his foot. It was just too bad for them that Russia didn’t particularly care about how much they liked him or how comfortable they were under his rule.
"And I would do it again! Don't even bother. Your words mean nothing...."
He gave Elizaveta a smile, his eyes reflecting sadistic excitement, but no traces of amicable joy. The blonde played the coiled whip slightly as he watched her struggle against her bonds. She was trapped, and she had to have known there was no chance of getting free. She might have just as well have been a rodent trapped in the powerful talons of an eagle; she had the same chance of escape.
"You can't stop me Ivan. I'll heal, I'll come back. And add even more scars to that body of yours.”
Uncoiling the black leather whip a bit, he circled the chained Hungarian, not at all bothered by her threats. “I’ve already stopped you, Elizaveta. I’ve crushed your little rebellion and killed your rebel boss. Well, I didn’t physically kill him, but I can assure you that he is dead.” He gave the whip a crack through the air as a means of testing it out and hopefully making Hungary nervous. “As for the scars, what kind of nation would I be without them? I don’t mind getting more really. Sometimes they can be like a badge of honor if you think about it. Scars show that a nation has been through rough times and in my case, triumphed.”
Not being a masochist of any sort, he never enjoyed the pain from scarring wounds, but he didn’t really care so much once they had healed up and became less painful. He was certainly not like Lithuania, who seemed ashamed of his scars. Not that he could really blame him he supposed in that case. Lithuania had the scars of a servant, not a dominate and powerful nation. When he was done with Hungary, she would probably have very similar marks for awhile. Not that he was around her as much to keep up with her punishments. Her marks would surely heal better than Lithuania’s due to less frequency.
“Now, since you’ve been such a bad girl, I think it’s time to get on with this punishment.” Maybe this time around he would be able to whip the defiance out of her. It seemed that last time he punished the Hungarian, he had not had a whip with him. Maybe it would make all the difference in this case, since it worked so well on Toris.
Stopping behind the female nation, he took a few steps back before giving the whip a lash forward, aiming for the creamy white skin between her shoulder blades. His energies were rewarded with the sight of a red mark on the otherwise flawless back. Bringing the bullwhip up again, he lashed out a few more times, the leather making a disturbing crack through the air with every lash. Now this was fun by his standards. There was nothing that made him feel more powerful and in control than inflicting pain on someone who had done something he had deemed bad. Every snap of the whip was exciting, and filled the unhinged blonde with an inappropriate glee. Every mark on the pale flesh made him eager to add more, and brought out his more playful side.
“Are you having fun yet, Elizaveta?” The Russian asked in a tone that almost sounded like a purr. He stopped with the lashes for a moment to admire his handy work so far and allow her to answer without being drowned out by the bullwhip slicing through the air. of course he figured that he already knew what her answer would be to such a mocking question.
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Post by Hungary on Jul 5, 2011 20:48:49 GMT -5
“I’ve already stopped you, Elizaveta. I’ve crushed your little rebellion and killed your rebel boss. Well, I didn’t physically kill him, but I can assure you that he is dead.”
Hungary grimaced at the truth of his words, her gaze turned downcast, not wanting to reveal her defeat. Ivan had stopped her and Imre was dead. He had known where his fate lied but had made her promise to never give up. Never give up....she was the icon that stood for the hope of all Hungarians. She tensed as she heard the crack of the whip, a shudder ran through her frame against her control as she buried her face in her arm. No fear....don't give him the satisfaction.
“As for the scars, what kind of nation would I be without them? I don’t mind getting more really. Sometimes they can be like a badge of honor if you think about it. Scars show that a nation has been through rough times and in my case, triumphed.”
"One day you'll fall Ivan. And I'll be there when you do, reveling in it." she hissed, her eyes gleaming with fury and hate for this man. The man she had failed to defeat time and time again. The reoccurring nightmare, the thorn forever lodged in her side.
“Now, since you’ve been such a bad girl, I think it’s time to get on with this punishment.”
She cringed again, very aware of what was about to come. She tried her best to steel her mind. She knew pain, she knew death. Yet still a dreadful feeling filled her gut. It was fear. She was afraid of Ivan and she was ashamed of it, though her Hungarian pride would never allow her to admit it.
Her eyes widened as she heard the crack of the whip. It seemed to happen in slow motion as she felt the leather tear into her flesh. A cry of pain broke from her lips as her head jolted back, her body arching back along with it as if trying to escape the length of the whip.
CRACK
Another scream as once again a gash opened on her creamy flesh. Her body shuddered as waves of pain flowed through her limbs, the cuffs of the chains digging painfully into her wrists as her body grew heavy.
CRACK, CRACK, CRACK
Her body writhed as she screamed, whimpering in pain between each strike. Though she tried so hard to hold back, tears of pain flowed from her eyes. She clenched her teeth, trying hard to handle the pain, but it was difficult. She begged her body to give out. Let her fall unconscious, but her body was less than merciful and throbbed in it's torturous pain.
“Are you having fun yet, Elizaveta?” the Russian purred at her making her feel sick to her stomach. Harsh red streaks of torn flesh adorned her back and sides. Blood trickled down the planes of white flesh still unmarred by the whip. She whimpered as she shifted in her bonds, blood also trickled from cuts in her wrists down her pale arms. Her body seemed to shudder as she fought to deal with the pain. "Go to hell, bastard" she managed to gasp out between pained breaths. Still defiant to the end no matter how much she feared, cried or hurt.
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Post by Russia on Jul 10, 2011 12:54:25 GMT -5
"Go to hell, bastard.”
Russia gave a cold laugh at her reply. He had expected as much from the brunette. Leave it to Hungary to be defiant until the end, even when she was helpless and in chains. He so wanted to hear her scream though, to see her cry and twitch even more under his discipline. Hopefully by the time he was done with her, some of her defiance would have been beaten out and she would be ready to accept him as her master without question or complaint. It seemed like a lot to ask for, but he was optimistic. The night was young after all, and his whip was still only flecked with blood.
“Elizaveta, I can’t go somewhere that does not exist.” He replied merrily, falling back on the fact that a proper communist did not follow religious beliefs. Such things were the opium of the masses, weren’t they? So to believe in them would be shameful for a country rooted in communism, wouldn’t it? It was a sort of sad thought for Ivan in a way. He had liked some aspects of his former religious values. And the cathedrals were so very pretty and inspiring. But he had given up belief in Heavens or Hells in exchange for something better. Or so he liked to tell himself.
“You would do well to embrace communism to it’s fullest.” he stated, reaching out with a hand to trace the bloody marks and welts on her back. “Don’t you want a better form of government? An equal form of government? If you would just stop fighting me and let me take care of things everything would be fine.” Ivan thought he sounded very assuring, personally. Who wouldn’t want to be able to sit back and allow someone stronger to lead them? He wouldn’t of course, but that was besides the point.
With a twisted sort of satisfaction, Ivan finished tracing some of the whip marks with his roughened fingertips, finally bringing his hand away again and taking a few steps back. “Defiance will only cause your people more pain and humiliation.”
Raising his whip, he gave a few more lashes to Hungary’s back, thoroughly enjoying the sound of the whip as it sliced through the air and left punishing welts and cuts on the flesh. It was almost like a sort of sick music to the deranged Soviet. Hungary’s cries of pain mixed with the sound of the whip and the clanking of the chains as she struggled in her bonds, creating a perfectly sadistic melody. No doubt her precious leader would have been brought to tears to see such a thing happen to his country. But then, he and his rebellious people should have known better than to do such a silly thing as oppose the Soviet Union.
Lash after lash was aimed for the Hungarian’s back, with Ivan putting a fair deal of his strength into each blow. Finally stopping the onslaught of leather fury, the Russian coiled the whip in his hand again, noticing to his delight that the tip was slick with blood now. He stepped around to Hungary’s front, trialing a hand over her bare flesh in the process and bringing it to rest between her breasts playfully. “I think you’ve about learned your lesson, haven’t you Elizaveta?” He studied the enchained woman carefully, his eyes focusing on her own as he contemplated as to whether or not he should leave the punishment there or go on.
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Post by Hungary on Aug 25, 2011 20:01:10 GMT -5
"You would do well to embrace communism to it's fullest. Don't you want a better form of Government? An equal form of Government? If you would just stop fighting me and let me take care of things everything would be fine"
Hungary recoiled as she felt his fingers on her back. Whimpering as jolts of pain flowed through her shivering form. Disgusted by this nation's touch she just wanted to die....if only he would just kill her and get it over with. But she knew he wouldn't grant her that mercy. "Defiance will only cause your people more pain and humiliation."
She blanched as the reality of that statement hit her like a strike of the whip. She knew her defiance was only causing more damage. Despite her Hungarian pride, she knew her people were suffering. As a Nation her first concern was her people's well being, and already she felt her will to fight slipping from her as much as the blood seeping from her wounds.
CRACK
And he was striking her again. The cut of leather tearing into her already welted and bloodstained skin. Her body strained against the chains, the cuffs digging painfully into her skin, droplets of blood dripping atop and staining her hair. Guttural screams rose from her throat which she tried desperately to hold back through clenched teeth. Her mind was frantic with pain and fear. Her train of thought lost briefly as a mere survival instinct took over.
When he had finished, her body slumped, threatening to give out on her. Hanging limply, her chest heaved with painful breaths, her vision blurring as she struggled to stay conscious. It was over....she was finished....the uprising had failed. She couldn't bear the pain of her people any longer.
"I think you've had about learned your lesson haven't you Elizaveta?"
She raised her head, glaring at him as he rested his hand between her breasts, the pain far outweighing her modest shame. "You have won this yes..." she managed to say, her voice fading among painful gasps "I will submit....but I will heal....I will regain my strength... I would be cautious from here out Russian..." she almost growled with the last bit of her strength. "You won't last....someone will end you...."
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Post by Russia on Sept 11, 2011 15:48:32 GMT -5
"You have won this yes..."
Ivan studied the female nation’s features carefully, smiling at the small bit of defeat her words implied. His hand still rested against her warm flesh, even as her heavy breathing made her chest rise and fall quickly. It was amazing that someone so strong and solid in their disobedience could feel so completely warm and soft. He trailed his hand up, bringing it to cup her chin gently as she spoke again.
"I will submit.…”
Those words brightened the sadistic blonde’s expression immensely. He knew it was only a matter of time before Hungary realized the error of her ways and submitted to his will. She was so weak compared to the might of the Soviet Union after all. Despite her strength as far as character went. She had no choice but to surrender to his will really. Still, hearing those words made him very pleased and further cemented the idea in his mind that physical violence was always the best way to get what he wanted. If he needed a naughty nation to behave, than all he had to do was beat or whip them into submission and all was well. It felt so good to be such a dominant and powerful nation at times like this.
“but I will heal....I will regain my strength... I would be cautious from here out Russian..."
Removing his hand from her face, he folded the bloodied whip neatly in his hands, smearing the crimson all over his fingers and palms in the process. A smug smile of satisfaction remained on his pale lips, even with her comment about regaining strength. He was not afraid. Let her get stronger if she thought she could. He would beat her back down and into place every time. If there was one thing Ivan was, it was sure of his power, and the fact that he would always possess such power. He laughed softly at her comment.
"You won't last....someone will end you...."
Ivan was currently drunk on feelings of power and control, so the idea that someone would be able to bring him down seemed completely silly. He found it amusing that Hungary could tell such jokes even after her punishment. “Elizaveta, it’s good to see that these fresh marks have not dulled your sense of humor.” He gave a playful laugh as he reached up and ruffled her hair. Of course it was better for her to be silly than defiant. He preferred her to make jokes about someone taking him down over the utter lack of respect for command that her people and her had previously been displaying.
“I am not afraid of something like that happening, and I don’t need to be cautious. I am strong, and will only get stronger as more fall to my control. Wait and see.” Using one of the keys, he carefully unlocked her restraints. She was of no threat now, and having been punished for her crimes, he saw no reason to keep her chained.
'“I’ll see you around, Elizaveta. Be a good girl.” With one last contented smile, he turned and made his way back out of the cellar, leaving the bedraggled Hungarian to gather her strength in solitude.
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