How to Break a Human Soul
"You're mine now." The Slavic man smirked, running a gloved hand against an open wound on the Prussian's cheek. He delighted in the look that appeared on his new territory's face as the touch had stung. It was nearly erotic how he had gotten the once powerful German nation to submit to his wishes, how he broke the once arrogant empire. "Expel your people from the land immediately, or I'll do it for you. Whichever you prefer." With that, he ignored the shooting glare of red eyes, and turned, leaving the man in the blood-stained snow. Red, the color of blood, and yellow, the color of jaundice, welcomed Gilbert to hell.
He never would have imagined he'd be in this kind of situation. Life had always been good. He'd been powerful and full of pride, as if not having a worry in the world. Now he was the pet of a beast known as Russia. The Slavic man was one of the most powerful nations in the world, having the most territory out of anyone. He ruled with such iron force, crushing all who stood in his way and using whoever fit his desires at the time. This was why he was the complete dread of so many.
Prussia would be treated as a slave in the beginning, though his job was quite different from the Baltic states or the sisters. He would be used purely for sex, any kind of sick favors the Russian wanted, Gilbert would have to provide, or suffer even worse beatings and torment. Through most of his days, he'd end up living in a type of basement or dungeon, waiting for either a mediocre meal or his captor's presence.
"If you're a good boy I'll lead you to my bed." Those words disgusted the Prussian, and even if he was some sort of slave he still had his pride. He wasn't one to bow down to anyone, even if it earned him freshly made scars.