"You've been such a naughty boy, Italy." Thwack. "So. Very. Naughty." Thwack. The crop came down swiftly on Feli's soft, bare stomach. It shocked him, for he could not see through the cloth over his eyes. He shivered as the velvety leather stroked the spot it had maimed, almost lovingly. Almost. Then the floor creaked – she was moving – and again, thwack! He cried out in pleasured protest as it struck him on the behind, leaving a stinging reminder.

"Ah, Germany, please –" but he didn't get the chance to finish before he felt the butt of the crop force itself under his chin, closing his mouth for him.

"What was that?" she asked sweetly. Louisa could get terribly caught up in this role. And yet, he loved it. Oh, how he loved it. "I don't remember giving you permission to speak, Italy." He waited for the shrill whistle of the crop cutting through the air, but it never came.

Smack. Oh, God. That had been her hand, and right across the face! Feliciano gasped, shock mingling with fear mingling with a hint of arousal. He could feel his cock hardening, becoming fuller and fuller – hell, it had started the moment she'd blindfolded him, if he was being honest.

"Now be a good boy, for once, and keep quiet while I punish you." It was so foreign, and so sexy how Louisa spoke like that, her voice going low and sultry, almost a grinding sort of purr. And God, Feli wanted to see her! He'd been granted a brief glimpse of her costume as she'd bound him, just before his sight had been smothered by the damnable cloth.

He was allowed to cry. Thank God in Heaven that he was allowed to cry out because he knew – and so did she, probably – that he couldn't hold that in. He felt the crop slither softly between his ass cheeks before landing sharply on one of them, the noise cracking through the thin air around them.

He could feel the blood pounding in his face, in his ears, his heartbeat like a helicopter, nauseating and caught high in his throat. In his mind, Feli could picture her, ample bosom threatening to spill out of the sable bra, perfect, pink nipples peeking through the lace. Biting his lip, he mewled, imagining how good it would be if he could just lean into her chest and –

"What are you thinking about?" Louisa's voice snapped him back to reality, though he could hardly call it a disappointment. The crop lightly tapped his left cheek and glided down along his jaw, underneath his chin before repeating the action on his right. "You look a little too pleased there, Italy. It must be something good."

Feliciano chewed the inside of his cheek, deliberating. Too slow: the crop struck him on his right shoulder and he whined.

"What," Louisa repeated, and he could hear her shifting her weight, "were you just thinking about?" Those sexy, thigh-high boots flexed as she moved, the sound tickling his ears, igniting his imagination.

"I-I..." he faltered, too aroused and too nervous to be any kind of articulate. He shuddered when he felt the butt of the crop again, this time on his chest, gently lifting his Iron Cross away from the skin. It tinkled as she toyed with it.

"You have permission to speak, Italy," she told him conversationally.

Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I was...I was thinking about you, Germany!" There, that was fair, wasn't it?

A sly chuckle flitted around his eardrums, making him anxious. Still, she played with his necklace; it continued jingling, an odd punctuation when juxtaposed against the whole scenario. "And what, exactly," she breathed – he could hear her smile, "were you thinking about me?"

Oh. Well then. Feliciano wrestled with what to do. He could tell the truth and be punished, or he could lie – and get caught – and be punished more severely. There was no alternative. And so, for a brief second, he thought about it some more, as if to justify what he knew he had coming to him. In his little five-second-fantasy, he was there, not blindfolded, face buried in Louisa's bared breasts, sucking on her nipples, slicking them with his spit... Oh yes.

There was a distinctly impatient grunt from above him, and he remembered that there was a question to answer. Just in time, too, for the crop had been pulled away and his Cross left to lie on his chest, the metal cool once again.

"I was imagining...h-how it would be to...to..."

"To?" she pressed. It was just a game, but she was such a good actress. A boot tap-tap-tapped on the floor, as if to say, I'm waiting.

"T-to play with Germany's boobs," he admitted finally, flushing. "I want to lick them and suck on them and –" he floundered, and was promptly rewarded for his blatant honesty with a harsh thwack to the chest, just beneath his clavicle. He half-moaned in response.

"You want to play with them, do you?" she hissed, coming around behind him. He was trembling now, and it was adorable. Using the crop, she leveraged him by the neck so that he fell backward, head landing in her bosom. Pressing the handle down on his throat, she pulled him against her; she could feel his Adam's apple bob as he gulped under the crop. "How's this, Italy?" she cooed in his ear, accentuating the question with a roll of her hips into his ass.

Though he loved the pillowy softness of them, and it was tempting in a torturous sort of way, but, well... "Ve, this wasn't – ah," she'd pulled the handle hard into his throat, "what...I-I, had in mind!" He struggled not to choke, wanting to satisfy her in their game.

"Oh, I know what you had in mind, Italy. And that's exactly the kind of thing that got you into trouble in the first place." She was grinning into his ear, pressing herself up against him, making him harder. "You really are such a bad, bad, bad," she nearly asphyxiated him that time, "boy. Aren't you?"

The crop was lifted away, releasing his poor throat, and he knew he was meant to answer the question. Gasping for air, he scrambled to gather his thoughts in time. Too slow, though. The crop smacked him hard on the inside of his thigh, the skin burning long afterward.

"Aren't you?" she repeated through gritted teeth.

"Ah, yes!" he shouted, wishing he could use his hands, wishing they weren't cuffed together in front of him, hating the dig of the metal into his sensitive wrists. "Yes, I'm very bad!"

"Why are you bad, Italy?" One of her hands – one of those soft, lovely hands, with slender fingers and manicured nails – settled on the spot where she'd struck him, rubbing it, soothing the hot skin. Her knuckles brushed his aching cock, and he wondered desperately if she was teasing him.

"F-for imagining Germany naked," he whined, "for wanting to play with those gorgeous tits – ah!" His legs were being spread a little too wide for comfort, and Louisa's perfectly straight teeth were sinking into the delicate juncture between neck and shoulder.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Italy," she told him, licking the bruise she'd just inflicted. Proudly, she thought of how he would need to try and conceal it come the next meeting.

"No?" he dared. "I thought it might get me everywhere," he said pointedly. He then found himself bent over onto his hands and knees, and received a hard spanking. "Oh, ah, I – oh!" Three more times, her hand hit him, and he hated that he was effectively blind, even if all he'd see was the floor.

Louisa paused then to admire her handiwork. Feliciano's sweet little ass was pink and sore, delicious. She took his cheeks in her hands and massaged them, a thumb inching toward his balls, teasing him. Ordinarily, she might be sucking his dick by now, and though her mouth watered at the prospect, that's not what tonight was about. Continuing to rub his ass, she asked him, "Did you enjoy that, Italy?"

Panting, uncaring of the discomfort caused him by the convoluted position, he whimpered, "Yeah, Germany. I did. Ve, do it again – spank me again!" That was what she wanted to hear. And, secretly, Feliciano sort of enjoyed saying it, though it burned his cheeks anew.

"You want more?" she mocked him, pulling her hand away as if to strike him, then only patting his behind affectionately, caressing it, occasionally teasing his tense entrance. She was so very, unbearably turned on by all of this – the novelty of Feliciano's willing participation was an aphrodisiac in its own rite.

"Yes!" he cried. "Please, more! Spank me more, harder!" he begged.

"I won't be gentle," she warned, and there was an inkling of genuine hostility there. How thrilling.

"Don't be! Germany – Germany, please!" Feli wriggled his ass in the air in attempt to garner some attention. His balls felt so sore and his cock was straining, his skin crawling for want of contact – any contact, any at all. "C'mon, Germany, spank me!" he blathered. "Punish me! I've been so bad! I think about you naked all the time! Ah!" Again, he felt the gratifying slap of skin on skin, easing one pain and fueling another. "Yes," he gasped, "yes, like that!"

"And what do I do in these fantasies of yours, Italy?" she hummed, alternating from cheek to cheek, sometimes hitting him square in the middle, just for kicks. "Tell me. Earn your punishment." She stopped then, if only to make a point (and, she amended privately, to give Italy's ass a break).

"Ah, what?" Confused, between the lack of oxygen in his brain and the unbearable pain in his groin, he had to stop and think. He was quicker this time though – or maybe, just maybe, he'd been accorded some merciful slack. And then, the images flooded his mind, reminding him what he had to do. "I-I like to think of you naked, t-touching yourself! Ah, yeah, mmm..." That confession had awarded him a little smack on the backs of his thighs. "I like to picture you pinching your nipples – yes!" smack. "Pushing your boobs together, licking them yourself – oh!" smack – on his left cheek, this time, and with a little more umpf. "Sucking on your own fingers, then sliding them into your – ahhhyes!" It was the crop this time, taking him by complete surprise. He was certain it had left a mark.

Then there was nothing. Not even a hand. Not even a tickle or a rub. Just the chill air on his throbbing skin. He felt suddenly empty and, was it...sad? Yes. Sad would do it.

"Germany?" he inquired, for it had gotten quiet, as well.

"Do you ever get to play in your own fantasies, Italy?" Her voice was monotone, though, frighteningly steady. Feliciano could not read into it, could not tell if he had just crossed into dangerous territory or if it was all part of the game. Surely, if it weren't, Louisa would let him know?

It must be part of the game, he decided, sighing. The wood floor was starting to make his head ache. "I do," he conceded. "I...I catch you, Germany. I catch you playing with yourself, and..." he paused, awaiting a spank that never came. So, he was being permitted to continue. "And you get all cute and shy, like I haven't seen you naked – ow!" Perhaps he'd gone too far, because that one had really hurt. But after that, all was still and silent, so on he went. "But then I sit on your bed, and...I kiss you. I always kiss you nice and sweet, Germany," he told her, for it was true, in his fantasies or otherwise. "And we kiss and we kiss until you let me touch you."

Louisa hefted Feliciano back up, cradling him in her arms – a strange and almost unwelcome change of pace. "How do you touch me, Italy?" she murmured, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. A hand slid down his leg, running the circuit over his knee and returning via his inner thigh. His cock twitched and he moaned. She pinched him then, an encouraging admonition.

"Ah..." he inhaled sharply at the trifling pain. "Mm, I rub your nipples while I kiss you, still. And I pinch them, too – not too hard, never too hard. I wouldn't want to hurt Germany." He could feel the heavy rise and fall of her chest, buoyant as it was. He loved that this was turning her on. She nibbled on his ear, urging him to finish his narrative. "You moan for me, Germany. And you ask me for more, and then...ah!" Her teeth dug in a little too much and he jerked away from her. She restrained him. "And then I rub you between your legs, and you're always so wet! So wet and so soft and so warm!"

"What else?" Louisa was purposefully pressing him into her breasts now, dispensing some torture onto her lovely little Italian.

Feliciano's mouth was dry with anticipation; blind, he had to relish what he could feel – her hands all over him, her breasts cushioning his head, her hot breath on his cheek. Bravely, he threw himself forward, catching himself on his bound hands and rotated so that he was – for the most part – in her lap. Using his meager weight to his advantage, he knelt between her legs and kissed her, his constrained hands finding the clasp on her bra. He fiddled with it for only a second before it came undone, and he could push the wretched thing away.

"Italy!" she scolded, but was too enamored by his next move to properly punish him.

Leaning in, finding his balance, Feli nuzzled her tits, sighing hotly on them, feeling her arousal in the form of a hard nub on his cheek. Gently, he took the nipple in his mouth, sucking and lapping and making her moan above him. How he wished he could see them, though: Louisa had been blessed, in his opinion, with round, lush breasts and perfectly shaped nipples. He wanted to be able to reach up and play with the other, to fondle it between a thumb and forefinger.

Finally, Louisa got her sense back and, grabbing the crop, she gave him a good, hard thwack on the ass, and sucking in a surprised gasp, he retreated, swaying. She did something dastardly then, deciding that if Feli wasn't going to fight fair, then neither was she. She yanked his curl, and he pitched sideways, moaning and mewling and making a general ruckus.

"F-f-fuck!" he cursed, a rare, splendid little phenomenon. His cock was as red as ever, full and leaking and wanton...

Carefully, Louisa stroked the curl, twining it around her fingers, pulling and tugging and teasing it. She loved the shivers it sent through Feli's soft, tiny body. She loved that she could force him into submission whenever necessary, as it certainly was now.

"Now, finish your story, Italy," she commanded, letting him go.

Graciously, he was given a moment to recover, and he struggled to do just that. "I...m-my, what? Oh...oh! Right, of course, sorry!" He edged closer though, finding his place between her legs, blind. "I like to finger you for a while, Germany. I like to rub you and tease you, and make you say my name. Ohhh!" The crop had been laid aside, momentarily, and instead he felt his ass being grabbed hard by Louisa's hands. Her fingernails bit into his skin, but that was okay, he decided. "And you let me lay between your legs – ouch! – and then I lick your pussy, and I push my fingers deeper, and –!" He was not allowed to finish. Instead, he found himself on his back, itchy where the carpet turned to hard pine. He squirmed, uncomfortable.

Smack! The crop lashed at his stomach again, making him shout. "You want to eat me out, Italy? Because I'll let you," Louisa smirked, observing the hopeful turn of Feliciano's eyebrows. "I'll let you, but only on one condition."

"Ve?"

"I get to be on top."

Feliciano's eyes went wide beneath the blindfold. He was aroused and surprised and nervous all at once – and he liked it. Licking his lips, he said, "Deal." Patiently he waited then, lips parted expectantly. He smelled her before he tasted her, all bitter and tangy and yet, somehow sweet. He yearned for that taste, his stomach lurching from impatient want.

Louisa hovered over him, glad that he could not see her face. She was probably about as nervous as he was, now. Still, she masked it well in her voice when she demanded, "Lick me, Italy."

Tentatively, Feliciano obeyed, releasing the tip of his tongue. It wasn't very long before he tasted her, felt that soft, pliant flesh part for him. He loved how her fingers fisted greedily in his hair while he worked, tugging and tightening while he licked and sucked, kissing and teasing. She moaned above him, grinding against his mouth, a litany of German nothings tumbling past her lips like stones.

"Put it in me, Italy," she said, "fuck me with your tongue!"

More than happy to oblige, Feliciano coaxed his tongue up, moaning into her at the heat and the taste that surrounded him, overwhelmed him. He relished the hold she had on him, the way she pushed him up, forcing his tongue even deeper. He licked at her walls, lips moving against hers, humming and moaning and giggling. He loved this. For fun though, if not for the sake of variety, he removed himself from her and stifled her displeased grunt by gently tonguing her clit, wrapping his lips over the sensitized bundle and sucking, sending her reeling. He traced her lips with his tongue, up and down and up and down, too gently, making her wetter.

"If you want to cum, Germany," he offered seductively, "you can go on ahead."

"No," she said immediately, and he wilted a little. "Not until you fuck me." Oh. "Sit up," she ordered, never lending him a hand, making him exercise his softened abdominals. He felt himself moved – dragged, more like it – over to the sofa, where he was then propped. Still blind, he longed to see her, naked but for the cap and boots, soaking wet just for him. He could only imagine a little trickle of her wetness dripping down the inside of her thigh...he moaned, and was punished for it with a hard smack of the crop.

"What was that, Italy?" she asked. Her voice was right in his ear – so she was on top of him.

Never hesitating, he answered, "I was thinking about how wet you must be."

A chortle, low in the back of her throat. Oh boy. Without warning, Louisa lowered herself just the slightest, teasing him, sliding his cock between her legs, dampening it. He keened, reaching forward, missing her by inches with his cuffed hands.

"Please?" he begged, missing her on his mouth. "Please, Germany?"

"Please what?" she asked.

"Please, fuck me Germany, fuck me good and hard!" That was what she wanted to hear, but it was also what he wanted to say. Feliciano loved to beg, however secretively. "Ride me, please!"

Louisa grinned evilly, rubbing his length with her wet slit, tantalizing and cruel. "Want me to ride you, Italy? For how long?" It was difficult for her too, of course, but he need not know how much so. Inside, she ached for him, craved him, burned for him.

"Ride me until you cum!" he hollered, the pain becoming too much, searing at the corners of his eyes. His lashes fluttered feebly against the blindfold. "Oh God, I want you to cum, Germany!"

"And what if you cum first?" she tried, biting hard on her lower lip to try and ignore the pain. She palmed his balls, massaging them, working him up into a tizzy.

"I, I, then – ohhh!" He was writhing and pawing at the air beneath her, narrowly missing the flat planes of her stomach. "If I cum first, you can do whatever you want – whatever you need to get off! I'll fuck you with my mouth again if you want," he prattled senselessly, "I'd love it, you know, if you came on my tongue – ve, Germany!" He threw his head back desperately, gulping down air as suddenly, his cock was engulfed in soft, wet warmth.

Unable to stand it any longer, Louisa plunged downward, moaning at the way he stretched her open, how he curved so perfectly upward to hit that spot, all so effortless, so innocent. It was a cliché, but it was if he was built just for her. Supporting herself on his narrow shoulders, she levered her hips up and down, loving the slide of him in and out of her, the obscene shape of his mouth as he moaned her name, hair sticking to his damp skin.

"Ve, you're so wet!" he exclaimed, "So tight!"

She smiled, appreciative. "And you're so big," she cooed, thumb tracing his jawline. "Such a big, big boy, Feli." The use of his name startled him, and he felt a drove of shocks swarm up and down his spine. "Big and naughty and – oh!"

"Naughty, maybe," he said, forcing his hips up, plowing her from beneath, "but pretty good, huh?"

Abruptly then, she slapped him in the face – not so hard that it hurt, just enough to put him back in his place. Then, almost as if to make up for it, she wrapped his head in her arms, holding his face against her tits, letting him enjoy how they bounced from her efforts. He moaned into them, sloppily taking a nipple in his mouth, licking it, nipping lightly at it. He sucked and sucked until she had to force him towards the other one, for now her breasts had grown tender.

Feliciano could not help it, if what he wanted most in the world right now was to press her tits together, to watch them bounce, to reach around and grab her ass and give her an encouraging smack. Still, he enjoyed the attention he was given, enjoyed the reel his imagination played for him all the while, enjoyed Louisa's litany of "Fuck me, Feli, fuck me, Feli, oh mein Gott, Feliciano!" He could feel how unbelievably wet she was, feel her cum dripping down his dick as she rode out her orgasm, nails clawing dangerously at his biceps. And even so, she continued to ride him, using her aftershocks in his favor; the way she squeezed around him, her breasts in his face and her soft, almost pitiful moans in his ears pushing him further and further until –

"Oh, oh, la tua grilla, così buono, Louisa, mmmmm, fuck!" And a small tug on his curl ensured that he came extra hard, especially for her. He felt her orgasm build again, quickly though, felt her pull off just in time for him to spatter her ass with warm, thick cum.

He slumped backward then, completely boneless – 'flaccid,' he thought, did not do reality justice. As he scrambled for breath, for precious, precious oxygen, his vision blurred between the white-hot of his orgasm and the satin black blindfold. As the world settled around him, he was beginning to realize how irritated he was with the cuffs, as they gouged his skin, hot and sharp. He was panting still, tongue hanging out, nostrils flared; his limbs refused to obey his brain and move – even just a simple jostling of the chains on his handcuffs, to remind Louisa of his predicament.

"Germany?" he ventured, once his lungs had had their fill of nourishment. "Germany, my wrists – ve, they hurt!"

There was no sign that she'd heard him, but he knew she would come to his aid – she always did. And sure enough, not a moment too soon, she was there, unlocking the handcuffs with a swift click and rubbing his wrists in a soft, soothing motion.

"I'm sorry, Italy," she said, voice returned to its regular quiet, reserved pitch. "Your wrists are all red."

"It's okay," he said, lifting the blindfold with a thumb. "It was fun!" And it had been. "We should do it again!" Though, not within the same week, surely.

"Really?" Louisa's bright, blue eyes searched him up and down, perhaps disbelieving. "Are you sure you don't mind?" Always so kind, always so considerate.

"Of course! Although..." he eyed her conspiratorially, "maybe I can use the crop next time?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, not expecting to be shot down.

And he wasn't, at least, not directly. "We'll see about that," she pursed her pretty lips. They were swollen and red – clearly, she'd been biting them for a better part of the time. Feli liked to entertain the idea that maybe the blindfold had been to hide her eagerness from him. "I..." she trailed off, deciding maybe not to finish that sentiment.

"Yes?" he pushed, lying his head in her lap and yawning. She blushed.

"I really liked it when you..." her face was glowing now, and she was having trouble looking him in the eyes. Feliciano prompted her with a stroke down her cheek. "I liked it when you...came on me." Her voice was so small by that point that she was almost inaudible.

Still, Feli smiled proudly, pleased at being good enough for her, his beautiful Louisa. "I can do it on your boobs next time if you li– ouch!" He rubbed his cheek and pouted, eyebrows knitted in a sad frown. "Ve, it was just a suggestion!"

"Hmph." She crossed her arms, averting her gaze from him. But she knew that if he wanted it enough, she would probably let him – and, however begrudgingly, she would probably enjoy it, as long as he was the one doing it.

Not that she'd ever tell him that.

A/n: Another Kink Meme de-anon; while I am deeply embarrassed at having actually written this, I'm also pleased with the way it turned out. I hope you've enjoyed it :)