Black mailed and fucked. Soviet x America

Chapter eight

America chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to thread through Soviet's hair. "Yeah? You hate me, huh?" he said, his tone still teasing. "You may hate me, puppy, but you still like it when Daddy touches you like this, don't you? You're just melting against me like a puppy enjoying a nice belly rub~"

He scratched under Soviet's chin, his tone growing a bit firmer. "Say it, puppy. Admit that you like it when Daddy touches you like this."

Soviet's breath hitched as America scratched under his chin. He hated to admit it, but he couldn't deny the truth of America's words. The feeling of being touched and caressed was so foreign and yet so comforting.

He felt a pang of reluctance and humiliation at having to say it aloud, but he knew better than to defy America. He mumbled out quietly, "I... I like it when you touch me like this..."

"That's right, puppy, such a good boy for Daddy~" America cooed, his hand continuing to caress Soviet's head. "You love Daddy's touch, don't you? You crave it, you need it, because you're my good little puppy. My good boy~"

He pulled Soviet's head back, so he could look directly at his face. "And puppies need to learn how to beg, don't they, puppy?"

Soviet's body tensed slightly again, feeling vulnerable and exposed as America pulled his head back so he had to look at him.

He knew what America was going to say next, and he hated himself for the way his body trembled with anticipation. He mumbled out quietly, his voice weak and unsure. "Beg...?"

"That's right, puppy." America said, his tone now commanding. "Beg for Daddy's touch. Beg for Daddy to pet you and coddle you and make you feel good. Beg like a good puppy should."

He pulled Soviet closer, so his face was inches from his. "Come on, puppy. Say 'please.' Say 'please, Daddy, please pet me, please touch me, please make me feel good.'"

Soviet's mind cringed at the idea of begging, of putting himself in such a submissive and vulnerable position. But he couldn't deny the effect America's words were having on him, the way his body was responding to his tone and touch.

He swallowed, his mind warring with himself as he finally mumbled out quietly, "Please... Please, Daddy... Please pet me, please touch me... Please make me feel good...."

A smug and satisfied smile spread across America's face as he heard Soviet's words. "That's a good boy, puppy~" he murmured, his tone dripping with arrogant pride. "You're learning how to beg like a good little puppy. So good, so well-behaved for Daddy."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against Soviet's ear. "And good puppies know how to say something else, don't they, puppy?" he crooned, his voice low and suggestive.

Soviet shivered at the feeling of America's breath against his ear, his body involuntarily responding to his touch and tone. He knew what America was going to ask him to say next, and he hated himself for the jolt of excitement that shot through him.

He mumbled out quietly, his voice almost too low to hear. "What... what else do good puppies say, Daddy?"

He pulled Soviet's head back further, forcing him to look up at him. "What do puppies say when they're given a good treat?"

Soviet's mind reeled as he tried to think, his thoughts fuzzy and disordered. He knew the answer, he *knew* it, but his mind was too scrambled to think straight.

He squirmed in America's lap, feeling humiliated and frustrated as he mumbled out, "I... I don't know, Daddy... I... I can't think..."

"Hmm... what if you called me Master instead of daddy, puppy~? Would that help you~?" America cooes, his grip tightening on Soviet's waist.