BIG WARNING HERE BECAUSE THIS IS WHEN THE ACTUAL FUN TORTURE STUFF BEGINS.

I probably shouldn't bother with this story, due to the lackluster attention it's gotten but I really like writing it.

idk I'm dumb.


South Italy Romano didn't like many things. He hated his brother, because he was always so happy and everyone loved him. He hated Germany, because he was a bad influence on dumb Veneziano. He certainly hated potatoes and wurst. He just disliked a lot of things. That was what he was known for. He created a mafia, for God's sake.

Spain was never something he hated. Yes, at first he despised him as a child and assumed he just wanted his late grandfather's inheritance, but he grew attached to the tomato-loving moron. Even when he was beaten for being a brat, he still loved Spain with all of his heart.

Even now, as he was bent over a desk and awaiting pain that would definitely come, he still couldn't hate him. His gentle, caring Spain had been replaced with the one he had recurring nightmares over, but he didn't want him to suffer for it. He just wanted the nice one back. But it was too late for him to want.

In his heart, he knew he probably deserved it.

"What would be the best punishment for you, Romano? Oh, you need so much of it, with how you've treated me for so long," Spain whispered, making the smaller squirm anxiously. He just wanted it to be over. But why would he be so lucky?

Then, Spain chuckled. Normally his laughter was soft and sweet, but this time it was the laugh of a serial killer. "I know. How about we start with a bath, to clean you all up. We can wash all that filth away. Would you like that, mi amor? Please say that you would!" Romano could feel his hot breath against his neck. It was the only warmth he could find.

A bath? It sounded innocent. Too innocent. Romano honestly didn't know what to expect from Spain right now, he was unpredictable when he was angry. Though, it wasn't as if he had a choice. He nodded his head reluctantly.

Spain hummed, nipping his earlobe playfully before dragging him out of the office. Romano's eyes drifted to the staircase. He needed to escape. He would leave, give Spain a few days to get over whatever was happening, then wait for him to apologize. Then everything would go back to normal. Easy enough. All he needed was a distraction. How hard could it be?

Unfortunately, once they were in the bathroom, Spain shut the door and locked it. He wasn't as slow as Romano previously thought, that much was certain. Still, the lock was on the inside of the room, so it would take seconds to leave. Hope was the only thing he had right now, and he clung to it tightly.

"Strip," commanded Spain, leaning against the door and crossing his arms casually. The request both shocked and embarrassed Romano. Sure, he usually slept naked, but that was entirely different. He never had been nude around somebody like this. He was a Catholic, that sort of thing was indecent.

"I...I can't," squeaked the Italian, looking away. "I am sorry, but I can't do that, it isn't right. Can't I do something else-"

SMACK!

In mere seconds, Spain had slapped him across the face. He didn't even hesitate, his hand moved seemingly on his own. The force of the blow was strong enough to bring Romano onto his knees. That really, really hurt.

He looked up at Spain, and was horrified at how he looked. His eyes, once a pretty bright green, were now an acidic shade. He was shaking, and his face was twisted into the scariest expression possible. "Do not disobey. I will tell you once more, Romano, and you must follow it. Strip."

Romano shut his eyes as he started taking the clothes off. His cheek stung badly, he could feel it swell up. He just wanted to wake up and realize this was all a bad nightmare. Once he was completely naked, he brought his legs to his chest and tried to cover himself. If it was a much different situation, being like this in front of Spain wouldn't have sounded so bad.

He felt eyes burn into him, and squeezed his eyes together tighter. Stop looking at me like that. You raised me, you bastard, this isn't right...

"Stand," Spain said slowly. Romano really didn't want to obey to that, but what choice did he have? He would've been beaten if he didn't do it. Somehow, Spain hitting him was worse than any of this. He stood, completely exposed to his insane ex-caretaker. "Good boy. Now, step into the tub. Keep your mouth shut, that's all you have to do. ?"

Romano nodded once again, stepping into tub carefully. He wasn't sure what do expect. Spain opened one of the closest cabinets and pulled out a wooden bucket. Romano recognized it instantly. Back when he was younger, it was used to dump water on his hair to wash the soap from it. But now...

Spain placed the bucket under the faucet, before turning one of the dials. Water spilled into the container, and Romano allowed himself to relax a bit. This wasn't so bad, was it? He didn't even notice that Spain only turned one of the dials and not both.

Spain picked up the filled bucket with ease. Clearly, he strength never weakened since before. He raised the container, over Romano's head, and looked at him. Truly looked at him. His eyes were cold, and held none of the warm sparks that used to flicker about. He wasn't himself anymore. "Stay still, now," he muttered, and tilted the bucket.

Romano wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't scalding water washing over him. He screeched as it hit his skin, the liquid feeling so hot it was almost cold. He immediately shrank back, but was held in place by Spain.

"You need to be clean, mi tomate. One isn't enough. Five sounds better, doesn't it? Hmm? Cinco, sí?" he repeated, over and over until Romano was forced to agree. That's all he needed to do, and it would be over soon. Spain grinned, snickering slightly. "You really will look like a tomato afterwards!" Somehow, Romano didn't find this funny.

The bucket was refilled, and the pain came again. He was on fire, he had to be. Only actual flames could hurt so much.

Then again he was doused with the agonizing liquid. Again and again until Spain was happy. It was more than five, it had to be. Spain was lying to him. His skin was raw and it hurt to move.

"There we go," the elder murmured, running a finger across the bright red chest in front of him. Romano bit his lip, hard, but stayed in place. "Almost done. We still have to scrub you. I don't think a sponge will be quite efficient, though. You need something stronger..."

He trailed off, searching in a few of the cabinets for whatever he thought was right. Romano watched, shivering violently. His skin still burned, but he was cold as well. He wasn't sure how to even treat a condition like that, so he simply stayed as still as possible and waited for the eventual pain that would come.

Spain returned with something in his hand. With closer examination, Romano realized it was steel wool. Fuck, that was certainly stronger alright. Spain drizzled whatever nearby soap-like substance he saw first, then grabbed one of Romano's arms.

"This might sting a little. But it's okay. It's only going to clean you up. That's what's important." Then, the steel wool was on his skin and it was a whole new thing of pain. Needless to say, the sharp pricking of the wool did not mesh well with his burnt skin. He tried to be quiet, only emitting tiny squeaks and whimpers. But when he saw blood seeping onto the wool, he shrieked shrilly.

Spain said nothing. Only let go of the mangled arm and went for the next one. The pain came again, with full force. Oh God, please let it end. Make him stop, make him see that this wasn't right! But whatever deity was out there, if there was one, apparently did not get this message. For the other arm was just as bloody as the first in the end. It was as if a cat had gone loose, aiming specifically for his arms.

"Should we do your chest then? Or maybe your back? What do you think, Romano? You may speak." Spain sounded so excited. So genuinely happy to mock him and make him suffer. Did he always dislike Romano enough to do this? Did he hate him all this time?

"No," he rasped, "please stop here. Spain, please, I'm sorry for being a wicked person! Ti amo, Spagna. Ti amo più di ogni altra cosa!"

Spain smiled. A sickening, crooked grin that was too big for his face. It wasn't the smile that Romano fell in love with, rather the opposite of it. He hated the voice more than he hated Spain. "Yo también te quiero, Romano, you know that. But you are not getting off the hook by saying you love me. I appreciate it, I really do, but it just isn't enough. No, I'm not satisfied until you really know how disgusting you can be. Then, only then, will I truly forgive you for all the trouble you've caused me. Do you understand?"

Stunned at the cruel, brutal words his ex-caretaker had told him, Romano simply nodded dumbly in response. Spain had called him disgusting. Maybe he was right. Why did he keep thinking that it was going to be any different if he begged? He was just a lowly, vile, poor excuse for a nation.

No. No, he couldn't think that way, he couldn't let this version of Spain win, he still had a little bit of hope. So, he grabbed that bit of hope, and quickly motivated himself. He pushed Spain as hard as possible, before rushing to the door and unlocking it quickly. He was free, at least from the bathroom. He ran into the hallway and dashed toward the staircase before a heavy force knocked him over.

It was Spain. He had tackled him to the ground, and was now pinning his arms onto the floor. Romano couldn't move. His last bit of hope was shattered. So, having nothing left to lose, he opened his mouth and screamed. Someone had to hear him, right? There had to be somebody.

Spain watched him, an amused expression on his face. He relished in the screams, oh how he had missed them. They sounded angelic coming from his small nation, and he almost didn't want them to cease.

Almost. He hushed him sharply, and the effect was instantaneous. "That was a good try, Romano. You almost escaped. Very impressive, but not quite enough. You were too sloppy, and weren't watching me. You just pushed and ran. That is weak." He laughed, playing with that special curl on his head. "Then again, you and Veneziano were always weaklings, right? It's cute, really. If it were a different situation, I'd spare you. But it isn't."

He stood, dragging Romano to his bedroom by his curl. The screeches and wails that were coming from the tiny nation signaled Spain on how sensitive that particular piece of hair really was. He'd have to research more on that eventually.

He shoved Romano against the wall, before punching him in the jaw easily. He then aimed for his nose, his mouth, and so on. Blow after blow, listening to the sounds they caused and changing them, like radio stations. He stopped once he saw blood drip down his nose and the corner of his lips.

"Ah, your pretty face. What a shame. Though, I must say, it looks even better torn up and bloody. I might've considered letting you go after cleaning you, but I think you deserve more after trying such a stunt. Do you agree, Romano?" he inquired, tilting his head in an exaggerated way. He was making fun of him. Romano guessed he had the right to. Spain had won. He had to accept his position, or else things would just be more painful. Romano, after much too long, was giving up.

"Yes," he whispered, wincing as the warm, sticky red fluid dropped from his nose onto the carpet in short waves. Just agree with him and move on, it would get by quicker that way. If he was the obedient, doting victim Spain wanted him to be then maybe he would get off easy. Perhaps with a little rest, he would be able to return home without having Veneziano cry over his wounds. He could try to erase this memory, and him and Spain could go back to normal. Just like before. Sure, the nightmares would come, and he wouldn't be able to sleep alone for a few centuries, but still. Things would be okay.

Spain stroked his bruised jaw, cooing in a sickening sweet voice, "That's a good boy. See, is it really that hard to obey me? You just like being difficult, don't you? I can change all of that. When I'm done, you'll be perfect. The perfect henchman I always wanted. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Through his tears, Romano forced a smile and nodded. His words weren't as harsh as before, but they still promised more agony for him. Still, he already burnt him and scrubbed his arms into shreds, what more could he do?

Spain leaned in, until their noses were touching. He said, in a mean little voice, "I'm going to fix you. But to do that, we'll need to rip you apart and put you back together again. Sound good?"

The words he used made the blood drain from Romano's face, more so than the blood that had already trickled from his nose and mouth.

"It will be okay, mi amor. We'll do it together. We'll break you as one."


HAHA WOW WHAT IS WRITING EVEN

So hey if you didn't know steel wool is a bundle of very fine and flexible sharp-edged steel filaments. It's mostly used for polishing wood, cleaning random household objects, etc. Also, it hurts a lot when scrubbed hard on skin and is not recommended.

The more you know.

A guest was the one who suggested Romano being burnt with water and I just added the steel wool part because I really like that for some reason. If you haven't guessed already, I'm total trash

So poor Romano isn't finished with his punishment yet. What else do you want him to go through? Let me know! Spanking has been brought up, thoughts on that?