~ Powers of Nations: A Countryhumans Chronicle

▶Chapter:9◀

S'up, yeah i'm back again

(Super speed XD)

There is a warning, you don't like it, don't read it.

Now to the chapter :D

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𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴⚠

3rd person pov:

The dungeon's walls seemed to close in, suffocating Russia in their cold embrace. He hung suspended by chains, each link a reminder of his captivity. Third Reich entered with a chilling confidence, his eyes alight with sadistic pleasure.

"Russia," Third Reich's voice cut through the stale air, dripping with disdain. "You're still clinging to existence. How pathetic."

Russia's gaze was hollow, devoid of defiance or hope. He had long surrendered to his fate, resigned to endure whatever sadistic whims Third Reich would impose upon him.

"There's nothing left," Russia murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper. "You've taken it all."

Third Reich approached, his movements deliberate and predatory. He circled Russia like a vulture eyeing its prey, relishing the power he held over the broken nation.

"I own you," Third Reich declared, his voice a cold, unyielding command. "Every breath you take, every beat of your heart—it all belongs to me."

With a sudden motion, Third Reich gripped Russia's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Do you understand?"

Russia nodded faintly, the weight of Third Reich's dominance crushing down upon him. He was no longer a sovereign nation but a plaything, a vessel for Third Reich's sadistic desires.

Satisfied with Russia's compliance, Third Reich stepped back, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Let's have some fun," he said, his voice laced with malicious intent.

He produced a length of rope, rough against his gloved hands. With methodical precision, he bound Russia's wrists, tightening the knots until they bit into flesh. Russia winced at the pain, but he made no protest—protests only invited more suffering.

"Now," Third Reich continued, circling Russia like a predator closing in for the kill. "Let's see how much you've learned."

He brandished a small blade, the metal glinting in the dim light. With deliberate slowness, he traced its edge along Russia's exposed skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

Russia tensed, the anticipation of pain a palpable presence in the air. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable torment.

But Third Reich had other plans. Instead of delivering a strike, he leaned in close, his breath warm against Russia's ear. "Tell me," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "What does it feel like to be at my mercy?"

Russia shuddered at the proximity, the conflicting emotions of fear and shame warring within him. "It... it's..." he struggled to find the words, his voice thick with emotion. "It's like drowning in darkness. Like every part of me belongs to you."

Third Reich chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. "Very good," he praised mockingly. "You're learning, Russia. Slowly but surely."

With a sudden movement, Third Reich withdrew the blade and delivered a swift, stinging slap across Russia's face. The impact echoed in the chamber, a harsh punctuation mark to his words.

"You exist," Third Reich stated with cold finality, "because I allow it. Your pain sustains me, your suffering fuels my power."

Russia's cheek throbbed with pain, but he dared not react. He knew that any sign of defiance would only invite more punishment, more degradation. He had learned to endure, to survive in this dark corner of Third Reich's world.

"Please," Russia finally whispered, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Let me go."

Third Reich's laughter filled the chamber, a chilling sound that sent a shiver down Russia's spine. "Oh, Russia," he taunted, circling closer like a vulture eyeing its prey. "You should know by now that there is no escape. You belong to me, now and forever."

He grabbed Russia's chin again, forcing him to meet his gaze. "You are mine," he repeated, his voice a command that brooked no argument. "Remember that."

And so, the days stretched into weeks, and the weeks into months, each one a relentless cycle of torment and submission. Russia's body bore the marks of Third Reich's cruelty, his mind scarred by the psychological warfare waged upon him.

But amid the darkness, no hope lingered. Russia had resigned himself to the cruel reality of his existence—a prisoner in body and spirit, a puppet in the hands of his merciless captor.

As the torture continued, Third Reich introduced a new element to amplify Russia's suffering—a vial of clear liquid, its contents promising to heighten every sensation, every pain. He forced Russia to drink it, watching with sadistic delight as the effects took hold.

The liquid burned like fire in Russia's veins, intensifying every touch, every strike of the whip, every cut of the knife. His screams echoed off the dungeon walls, a symphony of agony that only fueled Third Reich's twisted pleasure.

"You see, Russia," Third Reich murmured, his voice a cold whisper in the midst of Russia's torment. "You belong to me completely now. Your pain is my art, your suffering is my masterpiece."

And so, the days blurred into a nightmarish haze of pain and degradation. Russia's world shrank to the confines of the dungeon, each moment an eternity of agony. The liquid ensured that every sensation was magnified, every torment amplified to unbearable levels.

Yet amid the unbearable pain, Russia clung to a stubborn thread of consciousness—a defiant ember that refused to be extinguished, a silent rebellion against the darkness that threatened to consume him.

But Third Reich was relentless, his control absolute. He toyed with Russia like a cat with a wounded mouse, reveling in the depths of his captive's despair. Each day brought new tortures, new humiliations, as Third Reich sought to break Russia's spirit completely.

"You are mine," Third Reich would whisper, his voice a chilling reminder. "Body and soul. Never forget that."

One day, Third Reich entered the dungeon with an unusual expression—an unsettling mix of determination and something akin to tenderness. He approached Russia's suspended form, his eyes briefly betraying a flicker of emotion before hardening once more.

With deft movements, Third Reich unlocked the chains that bound Russia, freeing him from his agonizing suspension. For a brief moment, Russia felt a surge of relief—a fleeting sensation of liberation that sent a spark of hope flickering through his weary soul.

But as Third Reich lifted him into his arms, carrying him bridal style through the dungeon's corridors, Russia's heart sank. He knew all too well that this apparent act of mercy was nothing more than another twist in the cruel game his captor played.

They entered another room, its cold stone walls softened slightly by the Presence of a simple bed, a stark contrast to the dungeon's instruments of torment. Third Reich laid Russia gently, his touch almost tender against Russia's battered body.

Russia's mind raced with conflicting emotions-confusion, fear, and a stubborn defiance that refused to surrender. His body trembled with exhaustion and pain.

"You will stay here", Third Reich stated coldly, his eyes locking onto Russia's with chilling intensity " Get some rest. You'll need it for what comes next ".

With that ominous promise hanging in the air, Third Reich turned and left the room, leaving Russia alone once more with his thoughts and the oppressive weight of his captivity.

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That's a long one too hehehe

Wonder what TR will do to Russ in that room~ 

Now bye<3