Amg, I can write girls? The Fuck? Why haven't I done this sooner/more often? Because despite being one myself (because of?) I like writing stories with lots and lots of dick. Hehehe.
Warning: General yuri-ness, name calling, use of bondage and a crop and any words in italics is spoken in French.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia
xXx
Beautiful, well groomed fingers encased in snow-white gloves slid along the length of a black riding crop, pausing to play with the leather loops at the end before dropping away. Heels clicked softly, leather riding boots shining in the dim light as the woman circled around the naked figure hanging by the wrists, pulled up onto the balls of her feet and already breathing quick.
Red cloth rustled over the pure white of her pants, the coat-tails shifting as the blond woman extended her hand and dragged the tip of the riding crop up the side of a pale thigh. Glossy lips curled elegantly, manicured fingers tightening around the handle of the crop, lifting up before whistling down to slap across the expanse of skin and leave an angry red stripe along the smooth muscle.
The action forced a small whimper from the Russian woman's throat.
"So beautiful, Anya." The blond smirked at the larger woman, circling her again, trailing the crops leather end across Anya's so willing body and watching her jump. The Russian was unable to see what was going on due to the blindfold covering her eyes, amplifying the sensations running through her soft body.
Soft as snow, but soon to be warm from Francine's abuse.
The crop whistled again, landing along Anya's buttock and making the big nation tremble, chains rattling where they held her. Her long hair shifted as she trembled from the blow, unbound down her back and bare toes curling across the hardwood flooring.
Francine stalked forward, her boots clicking once more as elegantly gloved fingers played with the handle of her riding crop and blue eyes lowered from Anya to examine the white lace at her own chest, as if contemplating something. Her hair was intricately done up in a french knot that shown in the low lighting of the room.
"I was surprised when you agreed to this." The Frenchwoman looked up again, dragging the leather crop along one large, round breast. Her sophisticated features broke down into something feral, snapping the crop expertly to slap the very tip of one nipple.
Anya gasped and arched, eyes fluttering behind the blindfold while the tender skin hardening even further under the pulsing sting. She shook down to her toes when Francine struck again, lashing her other nipple and making her toes curl further, her groin getting unbelievably hot between her legs.
"But I have to admit, you take it well." Francine twitched her wrist and swept the leather down, snapping it across the expanse of Anya's breast in a stripe of pain that had the Russian moaning and shaking. The Frenchwoman smirked, white teeth flashing as her wrist flicked again, striking a sensitive nub and watching how Anya tipped her head back and arched, pushing her chest forward for more.
"Mmm." Francine left Anya's supple breasts alone for now, instead trailing her crop down lower. She dug it gently into the older nations belly-button before whipping her hip and then her inner thigh, moving in closer to feel the radiating warmth of aching flesh.
The flexible crop slipped low, Francine's blue eyes on Anya's sweet face as it slid between the Russian nation's legs. She pressed the tip against Anya's clit, rubbing the leather loops that had brought her such pain right against something that made her moan and quiver and buck gently.
"Little slut." Francine whispered it in her cultured, aristocratic voice, pushing harder. Anya's eyes clenched shut and her entire body began trembling, thighs shaking and pressing together in an attempt to trap the pleasure and control it. The blond nation only rubbed harder, making the other woman keen from the stimulation.
"Look how wet you are." Francine finally lowered her eyes, the crop following suit. She pushed the leather head between Anya's wet folds, watching the way the powerful nation's body seemed to spread invitingly for it. She rubbed it along the inner folds until the leather glistened, not letting it enter the so eager opening before she pulled it back and held it up between them. She pressed it to Anya's lips, letting her smell it and feel the slickness of her own excitement. "You little whore...lick it clean."
Anya obediently lapped at the leather, tasting herself like a fine oil along the well used head of the crop. She kept licking until all she could taste was leather again and her own saliva, eyes moist behind the blindfold and groin wet with arousal.
"You want this inside of you?" Francine asked, standing close enough she could whisper it into Anya's ear and feel the heat of her flushed body. She saw the Russian tremble and her legs part, asking with her body where her voice would fail. She had been forbidden to speak Russian earlier, and in her current state she doubted her French would be passable enough for rewards.
"You want me to fuck you with it, mm, Anya?" France pulled it away from Russia's mouth and trailed it down her body, slipping it between her legs and up against her clit again. She pressed it firmly and purred her words. "Rub, slut."
Immediately doing as told, Anya rocked her hips, moaning from her throat as the folded leather pressed and rubbed against her sweet spot. She wanted more than this but she knew she couldn't ask; Francine would give her what she deserved, not what she wanted.
"Good girl." Francine let the tip of the crop slide down, slipping between Anya's folds before nudging it at the other nation's opening. She let it soak up the wetness that was nearly trailing down Anya's thighs before pushing it inside, the thin object gliding in with little resistance.
"Mm, it goes in so easily. You really are a little slut, Anya." Francine flicked her wrist, thrusting it in and out of her lover, artfully decorated blue eyes watching the way the bigger woman's toes curled, breasts shaking as she began to tremble. Her nipples were still hard, pert and begging for attention they wouldn't be getting again.
France continued thrusting with the makeshift toy when Russia began to whimper and twitch with the movements, wetting her lips as she watched Anya dissolve into a writhing, moaning mass. The nation's legs spread as much as they could, hips bucking in an attempt to get more friction from the thin leather.
Francine didn't relent, fucking the other woman fast and hard until the tied nation tossed her head back and moaned her completion, thighs clamping together and back arching. The word Anya moaned was obviously Russian.
As soon as it registered Francine pulled the switch out and whipped it across the mound of Anya's breast, still glistening wet with her pleasure as it brought up an angry red welt. Francine did it again and again, hitting different places along Russia's ample chest, the crop whistling and impacting for long moments before Anya began to whimper and tremble from something other than pleasure.
"You are a disgusting creature, Anya." Francine sniffed haughtily, turning her back on the other nation. She looked at the crop critically, her voice becoming icy even as her language made the words sound so devastatingly pretty. "I had been planning to use this some more, but since it is stained from your revolting body I'll have to throw it away now."
"F-francine..." Russia's voice was subdued and soft, her head much clearer after the punishment to her breasts. She swallowed, fists clenching above her head. "I'll make it up to you...I promise..."
"How do you expect to make it up to me, chained like a filthy animal?" Francine's cultured tones dripped like acid, making Anya flinch with true remorse. She lowered her eyes to the floor, where they belonged, and continued speaking only because she had been asked a question and had to answer.
"If you let me down, I will make you feel good." Russia promised, hoping France would let her. There had been times before, during different games, when Francine had made Anya watch as Francine pleasured herself for hours.
"Mm." France's eyes scaled over Russia's body, lingering on the painful looking red marks still obvious on her chest. She stepped forward with a click of her boots and reached up, tracing a particularly prominent mark with the tip of one gloved finger. She then moved around Anya and undid the chains gave and the nation could lower her hands. Then Francine further unbound her, completely releasing Russia from all of her restraints. "Wait here, slut."
She moved away from Anya and to a nearby loveseat, the small couch elegant and covered in a rich red fabric. It had been placed where she could sit and watch Anya struggle and writhe when she used other, more interesting toys.
Sitting down on the couch, Francine proceeded to remove her riding boots, placing them neatly to the side followed by her stockings. She then slid her pants off, folding the material up and setting it on the cushion beside her, followed by her panties. The red top she left on along with her gloves, crossing her bare legs and giving Anya a look.
"Come here." Anya obeyed the command, moving closer and kneeling as directed by a wave of Francine's hand. The Frenchwoman uncrossed her legs and let Anya settle between her thighs, sitting on the edge of the loveseat with her back straight in perfect posture. "Lick, slut. I know you're good at it."
Anya leaned forward and did as told, suppressing the eager sounds that bubbled at the back of her throat as she gladly buried her face within Francine's folds and began to lick. Her tongue dragged across the small bead of France's clit, working up saliva and letting it gently flow across the sensitive skin, knowing the Frenchwoman despised spitting.
She worked on the other nation's clit until she felt gloved fingers work into her hair. She looked up, seeing Francine slightly bent forward, cheeks flushed a light rosy color. It made Anya smile, the expression hidden within the wet folds of Francine's sex.
"Did I tell you to stop, whore?" Francine barked, spurring Anya to get back to what she'd been doing. She lapped and suckled, massaging the skin that covered the small mound of hyper-sensitive flesh with her lips in a kiss. Anya's lips and chin were getting soaked in saliva and other fluids but she didn't care, not even bothering to pull back and wipe her face.
Anya could hear Francine cursing at her from above, calling her filthy names in French while her manicured fingers pressed the Russian's face in deeper, her vocabulary only getting worse the closer she got to her pleasure. Anya didn't mind, the words igniting a passion in her that made her groin contract with longing, her core burning while Francine began rocking her hips for more friction.
"Keep going you low-class bitch...keep sucking on my clit nice and hard...mm, yes...such a good little whore." Francine purred harshly, fingers tight in Anya's hair as she crushed the bigger nation's face down into her folds and bucked up, pinning Russia against her clit for her own pleasure.
Her other hand twisted into Anya's hair as she reached her peak, pulling hard on the soft strands while her pleasure erupted up through her. She bucked her hips hard, not letting Anya up for a clean breath throughout her orgasm.
"Ahh...you are good for somethings, Russian." Francine murmured as she relaxed back on the couch, her hands going slack before she closed her eyes and leaned against the arm rest. A soft smile curled her lips and she spoke without opening her eyes. "Clean up the mess, Anya."
Nodding even though Francine couldn't see it, Anya stood up obediently and moved to pick up everything. She moved the chains where they should be and placed the crop into a bag for now, it needing a proper cleaning before it could be used again.
Once everything was in place she went back to Francine and murmured the key-phrase they'd discussed before, the one she was supposed to use when they reached this point and the scene was over.
"England's scones are delicious, aren't they?" She smiled softly as Francine snorted, her lover's eyes cracking open while her nose lifted in the air.
"It's hardly worth feeding to a dog off the streets." The blond reached for Anya, turning herself on the couch and letting the bigger woman lean on her, cuddling. "How was it? Not too much?"
Anya smiled, placing her head against her lover's chest, wishing that Francine had taken the rest of her outfit off during their play. She really had some fantastic breasts.
"Never too much, France. That's what safe words are for." She reminded gently, knowing that the other woman would continue questioning after each session regardless of how careful they were. She snuggled closer and wrapped her arms around her lover's slim waist, closing her own eyes with a content sigh. "Let us sleep now, Da?"
"Okay." France smiled down at her and ruffled her hair, kissing the top of her head before settling back, holding Russia close and thinking about the events of the night.
The next time would be even better.
xXx
Yep, girls. Lots of them. With boobs! :D I hope you all enjoyed and please review if you did!