America gasped as the cane came down once again on his backside, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and wetting the blindfold. He was achingly hard and craving Russia. But instead of the touch he so desperately needed, again came the cane.

"Ivan!" He whined, writhing on his knees, his hands cuffed to the headboard. "Please stop teasing me!" He begged, panting hotly.

Ivan gave a predatory grin the American couldn't see and slid a gloved hand up the curve of his ass. "So desperate, lapushka." He purred, slapping his abused backside. "I love it when you beg."