His eyes pricked in pain as Germany's hand wrapped tightly around his throat. He had tried to escape again and this time Germany wasn't going to be as kind. Italy wasn't there to stop him, it was just the two of them. A twisted grin fed from his fright. "A-Allemagne! P-Please! I-I promise I won't escape again! That's the last time!" He choked, the grip getting ever tighter. His eyes were dark, angry with a passion. He released France, letting him splutter up blood onto his floor. "Its easy enough to get you back, idiot... But when I know you have helped Britain to escape!" His fists clench in fury and kicked him hard in the stomach. "You are a worthless country... That is why Britain and America are not trying to get you back. They want to leave me with the trash."

Clutching his stomach, he moaned in pain. Something hit him over the forehead and there was a trickle of blood that had already begun to fall from it. His whole body ached, no longer able to keep up with the beatings now that Italy had surrendered to the Allies after an attack from Sicily. The thought made him smirk to Germany's disgust. He launched over and grabbed his hair, forcing him up. "Listen to me, you piece of filth. Today Britain and America are trying to get you back but I'm going to make sure every last one of their soldiers are dead. Then I'm going to take every single piece of trash out and leave it to starve, forever alone." He spat at Francis as he spoke yet he still was able to pull out a laugh.

It was a half insane laugh and half amusing laugh, Francis glared at him in satisfaction. "Mon cher, you seem to forget that there is also my petit Mathieu with them and think of the amount of Arthur's brothers that have already willing helped in the war. Not to mention my petit Seychelles helped to fight in Egypt... I think you are standing on your last legs Allemagne." Germany was enraged, there was a determination in his eyes to prove France wrong. The country he had invaded three times in the past 120 years was mocking him and he wanted revenge for all the trouble he had created. A sly sneer reflected onto Germany as he grabbed France's hands. "You might be right, however I still have you in my possession for the time being." A sparkle of sheer delight ran through his eyes.

The warning glare was all France needed, he tried to scramble away. Unfortunately, he was still unable to properly move from being kicked and his head hurt too badly each time he moved it, leaving Germany his for the takings. France's sweat dropped cold from his forehead. "A-Allemagne... Angleterre will be here soon... Y-You have already lost..." His voice was weak as he tried to input reasoning yet none of it worked. Germany pulled off his belt, using it to tie up France's hands. He tried to resist, resulting to screaming for help as loud as he could. "Angleterre! Arthur! Help! Arthur!" Germany put a finger to his lip once his throat and hands were red raw.

His eyes set into France, "He's not going to come for you. America and him are screwing as we speak." His voice was full of certainty, purposely toying with France's emotions. Just the thought of America touching his Britain was too much, a single tear fell from his eye, signalling to Germany that he would no longer resist. He lifted up France's chin, glaring straight into his eyes with a purpose. "You are no going to resist." The command drove into him as Germany forced himself into a kiss, filling himself with the stench of the French man.

Aggressively, he pulled out, pressing his crotch against where he had kicked France in the stomach. The was a groan from France in pain, his desperate attempts to hold something nearby. "Your nothing but a pervert, you know what we do with them in the army...?" Germany's voice was a low growl as he sunk his teeth into his shoulder, lapping up the blood that emerged from the wound. "We give them that and far more." He kicked out when Germany least suspected it, kneeing him straight in the balls.

Winded Germany clutched himself as France frantically ran to the door, trying to open it with his tied up hands. It wouldn't open... In desperation he began to pound on the door. "Arthur! Alfred! Mathieu!" His eyes stung as he held back the tears, just focussing on getting out. A hand leaned beside him on the door, slowly he looked up to see Germany up once more, "They're not going to come." France sank to his knees, he really was all alone... Even once he had been captured he hadn't admitted defeat but now on D-Day he had fallen to it. "France, you're mine and no one can take you away." Germany's blue eyes reflected into Francis', he crouched there on the floor next to him before kissing him tenderly on the forehead.

Germany caressed the bite wound he had given France earlier, bending in to lick it gently, clearing away all the dried blood. There was a flash of guilt in his eyes but it disappeared as fast as it came, replaced once more with a confident, brooding smirk. His hands wrapped around France, as if trying to cuddle him except they grabbed at his trousers and slipped them away. Manically he began to tear at his shirt, France didn't move this time. He was Germany's piece of land, something he could do anything with. He had lost. He let him pull in close. He let him strip him naked. He even let him do something that was only marked for Britain yet he didn't believe anymore. He had lost hope in Arthur coming to save him. In only an hour he had lost himself.

That was grim, sorry I haven't posted in a while. Have had this chapter ready for a while except forgot to put it up. I hope you enjoy it, thanks for all the reviews so far.