Thankless Martyr 1/1
Feb. 3rd, 2010 06:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
setosnicegirlTitle: Thankless Martyr
Rating:PG-13
Genre: Angst
Characters/Pairings: Germany/Girl!OC!Vichy France, France, England, America, Canada
Warnings: Cursing, Submission, Hints of humilation/degradation, character death
Summary: A kink meme fill. France's daughter Vichy whores herself to Germany during World War 2 and pays for it.
Vichy stood next to Pétain as they watched Germany’s men drag her kicking and cursing father away from them. She closed her eyes and let a tear fall.
“Forgive me, papa,” she said softly, “Please forgive me.” She opened them when she heard boots walking steadily towards her. She glared hard at Germany’s boss as he neared her with a smirk on his face.
“You should kneel before me in respect, Mademoiselle Victoire,” he said in horrible French. Vichy did nothing but glare. Germany’s boss began to get annoyed. “I said kneel or the rest of your people will suffer!”
Her boss looked at her and said, "Victoire, you must do what he says."
Vichy glared at him before slowly getting on one knee and bowing her head. ’I have to do this to save the rest of the people here, to save Papa’s people.’
“You and your people will follow our ideals to create a perfect world. That means getting rid of those....undesirables here and cleansing the country.”
“None of Papa’s people are ‘undesirable’! And none of mine will be are ei- Argh!” Vichy cried out in pain when a boot kicked her in the face. It made her lose her balance and she fell to the ground. As she tried to get up, she was promptly kicked in the stomach. Vichy gagged a little before looking up at her attacker.
Hard and cold blue eyes glared at her. ’Germany.’ she thought. “Don’t interrupt the Führer, wench,” he growled out.
Germany’s boss continued. “And you will be coming with us. If you are good and cooperate with us, we will leave the people of the French State alone. However, if you disobey me or Ludwig here, if you do anything rebellious, anything we don’t agree with, if you don’t follow our orders completely, then your people will suffer the consequences. Understand?”
“Yes, you dirty German Pig,” she said with a smirk on her face. A smirk that was wiped off as quickly as it appeared and replaced with a look of pain and a cry of agony when Germany stepped on her hand hard and began to grind it into the ground.
“Try again,” said Germany as he ground harder.
“Yes! I-I understand!”
“Yes what? And say it in German.”
“Yes, Mein Führer!”
The boot was lifted from her hand and she immediately cradled it to her chest. Tears ran down her face as she silently sobbed.
Germany’s boss looked at the scene with amusement in his eyes while Pétain looked uncomfortable.
“Heh, there is so much fire still in you fraulein. Just what I would expect from the French,” he said with a cheerful tone. Then it became hard, “I don’t like it. Ludwig, why don’t you and some of your soldiers teach Mademoiselle Victoire to control that fire and to teach her how it is to be a country?”
“Yes sir. As you command,” replied Germany. He reached down and grabbed Vichy by the hair and pulled her up.
“Ahh! Let go of me! Let go!” she cried but Germany tuned her out and began to drag her away by her long blond hair.
When they were out of sight of their bosses, Germany let go and Vichy dropped to her knees. “You bastard, I’ll make you pay. And where are you taking me!?” Germany promptly slapped her across the face and grabbed the front of her dress and pulled her closer to him.
“You need to stop being defiant all the time! It is not going to do you any good!” he said with a hint of desperation. “If you don’t behave, then I’m going to have to hurt you when my boss is with us, even if you are submissive and obedient to me. That is what he wants. As long as you do as I say and endure whatever happens to you, then your people will be safe.”
Vichy glared back. “Except those living in Paris and the ‘undesirables’, huh?” she spat out. “And let go of my dress! It’s going to get ripped!”
Germany said nothing and he didn’t let go.
“I’m talking to you! Let go and answer me! Where are we going Ludwig?”
He looked at her before softly saying, “...I’m following orders...I’m taking you to the soldiers' camp....”
“W-What?” she stuttered.
“The soldiers will teach you to behave...they haven’t had a girl in weeks and we forbade them from taking any of the girls in your city....so they will get their pleasure from you...”
“No! No! I won’t do it!”
‘Well then, I just go and tell them to go get any woman they want from you city, and do what they will to them,” Germany let go of her and began to walk toward the camp.
“Wait!” she cried out getting up to chase after him. She caught up with him and grabbed his arm.
“Yes?” asked Germany, not turning around.
“...I’ll do it.”
“You will be our whore then? You will endure everything that happens to you?”
“Yes.”
Germany softly took her arm and began to walk to the camp in a faster pace. “Then let’s go. The faster we get there the faster it will be done and over with. Just...think of something pleasant as it is happening. ”
Vichy was silent for the entire trip there. She even stood there in silence as Germany introduced her to his men. She inwardly cringed at their leers and lustful gazes. When Germany pushed her forward, she closed her eyes as the hands grabbed for her. She began to think of her father and his people and how proud he would be to know that she was doing her part to keep his people safe....
1945
Victoire was in hysterics. She struggled against the two Free French soldiers as they dragged her across the execution grounds to where her father, England, America, and Canada stood next to the instrument of her death, the guillotine.
‘Why!? I tried! I really did! Why is he this angry with me!’
The soldiers dropped her in front of them and Victoire looked up at her father with tears in her eyes. France glared down at her with fury burning in his eyes. England looked at her with a stern face on and the North American brothers looked uncomfortable.
“Papa, Papa please I-” she began before she was cut off.
“Victoire Bonnefoy, you created a country with the man who gave me away! You committed treason against me and whored yourself to the invaders who were plundering my land! You allowed for my people to suffer at their hands while you lived a comfortable life!” he accused.
‘Comfortable life!? I had no such thing!’ she thought as she remembered all the humiliating things they made her do.
“Papa! It was the only way! I-I didn’t know Pétain was going to do that! I swear I-”
“For this Victoire Bonnefoy aka The French State, you are to be executed by the guillotine!” he finished, interrupting her plea.
Victoire began to cry even more. “Papa! You have to understand!”
France looked at her coldly. “You are not my daughter. Not anymore.”
Victoire looked at her father with wide eyes before she began to sob. The soldiers picked her up and began to walk her up the stairs to the guillotine. They put her head down and locked her in.
Victoire looked down at the horrible basket that would become her head’s final resting place and then she lifted her head up to look at the four countries that were going to witness her death.
She looked at France and made one final plea, “Papa please! I truly love-”
The guillotine’s blade fell. Bloodied long blond hair flowed out of the basket.
France turned and quickly walked away from the scene, not staying to watch the men lift up the blade so they could roll the body in the box next to it. The other nations finally caught up with the fast walking France.
“Francis…” started England before a very familiar young woman ran up to them carrying a bouquet of roses. England, America and Canada stared in shock as the same woman who was just beheaded in front of them was now running towards them with smile on her face.
“Ah Vichy, are these lovely flowers for me?” he said taking them from her arms.
Vichy nodded. “Yes they are Papa! I’m so glad you are back!”
“Yes, but now we must get going. Berlin is waiting for us,” said France as he put one of the roses in Vichy’s hair before he began to walk away again.
Vichy waved after them. “Goodbye Papa and his allies! Long live France!”
As they walked away from the girl, America spoke up. "What just happened back there?"
"Nothing happened, America. Nothing at all."
Rating:PG-13
Genre: Angst
Characters/Pairings: Germany/Girl!OC!Vichy France, France, England, America, Canada
Warnings: Cursing, Submission, Hints of humilation/degradation, character death
Summary: A kink meme fill. France's daughter Vichy whores herself to Germany during World War 2 and pays for it.
Vichy stood next to Pétain as they watched Germany’s men drag her kicking and cursing father away from them. She closed her eyes and let a tear fall.
“Forgive me, papa,” she said softly, “Please forgive me.” She opened them when she heard boots walking steadily towards her. She glared hard at Germany’s boss as he neared her with a smirk on his face.
“You should kneel before me in respect, Mademoiselle Victoire,” he said in horrible French. Vichy did nothing but glare. Germany’s boss began to get annoyed. “I said kneel or the rest of your people will suffer!”
Her boss looked at her and said, "Victoire, you must do what he says."
Vichy glared at him before slowly getting on one knee and bowing her head. ’I have to do this to save the rest of the people here, to save Papa’s people.’
“You and your people will follow our ideals to create a perfect world. That means getting rid of those....undesirables here and cleansing the country.”
“None of Papa’s people are ‘undesirable’! And none of mine will be are ei- Argh!” Vichy cried out in pain when a boot kicked her in the face. It made her lose her balance and she fell to the ground. As she tried to get up, she was promptly kicked in the stomach. Vichy gagged a little before looking up at her attacker.
Hard and cold blue eyes glared at her. ’Germany.’ she thought. “Don’t interrupt the Führer, wench,” he growled out.
Germany’s boss continued. “And you will be coming with us. If you are good and cooperate with us, we will leave the people of the French State alone. However, if you disobey me or Ludwig here, if you do anything rebellious, anything we don’t agree with, if you don’t follow our orders completely, then your people will suffer the consequences. Understand?”
“Yes, you dirty German Pig,” she said with a smirk on her face. A smirk that was wiped off as quickly as it appeared and replaced with a look of pain and a cry of agony when Germany stepped on her hand hard and began to grind it into the ground.
“Try again,” said Germany as he ground harder.
“Yes! I-I understand!”
“Yes what? And say it in German.”
“Yes, Mein Führer!”
The boot was lifted from her hand and she immediately cradled it to her chest. Tears ran down her face as she silently sobbed.
Germany’s boss looked at the scene with amusement in his eyes while Pétain looked uncomfortable.
“Heh, there is so much fire still in you fraulein. Just what I would expect from the French,” he said with a cheerful tone. Then it became hard, “I don’t like it. Ludwig, why don’t you and some of your soldiers teach Mademoiselle Victoire to control that fire and to teach her how it is to be a country?”
“Yes sir. As you command,” replied Germany. He reached down and grabbed Vichy by the hair and pulled her up.
“Ahh! Let go of me! Let go!” she cried but Germany tuned her out and began to drag her away by her long blond hair.
When they were out of sight of their bosses, Germany let go and Vichy dropped to her knees. “You bastard, I’ll make you pay. And where are you taking me!?” Germany promptly slapped her across the face and grabbed the front of her dress and pulled her closer to him.
“You need to stop being defiant all the time! It is not going to do you any good!” he said with a hint of desperation. “If you don’t behave, then I’m going to have to hurt you when my boss is with us, even if you are submissive and obedient to me. That is what he wants. As long as you do as I say and endure whatever happens to you, then your people will be safe.”
Vichy glared back. “Except those living in Paris and the ‘undesirables’, huh?” she spat out. “And let go of my dress! It’s going to get ripped!”
Germany said nothing and he didn’t let go.
“I’m talking to you! Let go and answer me! Where are we going Ludwig?”
He looked at her before softly saying, “...I’m following orders...I’m taking you to the soldiers' camp....”
“W-What?” she stuttered.
“The soldiers will teach you to behave...they haven’t had a girl in weeks and we forbade them from taking any of the girls in your city....so they will get their pleasure from you...”
“No! No! I won’t do it!”
‘Well then, I just go and tell them to go get any woman they want from you city, and do what they will to them,” Germany let go of her and began to walk toward the camp.
“Wait!” she cried out getting up to chase after him. She caught up with him and grabbed his arm.
“Yes?” asked Germany, not turning around.
“...I’ll do it.”
“You will be our whore then? You will endure everything that happens to you?”
“Yes.”
Germany softly took her arm and began to walk to the camp in a faster pace. “Then let’s go. The faster we get there the faster it will be done and over with. Just...think of something pleasant as it is happening. ”
Vichy was silent for the entire trip there. She even stood there in silence as Germany introduced her to his men. She inwardly cringed at their leers and lustful gazes. When Germany pushed her forward, she closed her eyes as the hands grabbed for her. She began to think of her father and his people and how proud he would be to know that she was doing her part to keep his people safe....
1945
Victoire was in hysterics. She struggled against the two Free French soldiers as they dragged her across the execution grounds to where her father, England, America, and Canada stood next to the instrument of her death, the guillotine.
‘Why!? I tried! I really did! Why is he this angry with me!’
The soldiers dropped her in front of them and Victoire looked up at her father with tears in her eyes. France glared down at her with fury burning in his eyes. England looked at her with a stern face on and the North American brothers looked uncomfortable.
“Papa, Papa please I-” she began before she was cut off.
“Victoire Bonnefoy, you created a country with the man who gave me away! You committed treason against me and whored yourself to the invaders who were plundering my land! You allowed for my people to suffer at their hands while you lived a comfortable life!” he accused.
‘Comfortable life!? I had no such thing!’ she thought as she remembered all the humiliating things they made her do.
“Papa! It was the only way! I-I didn’t know Pétain was going to do that! I swear I-”
“For this Victoire Bonnefoy aka The French State, you are to be executed by the guillotine!” he finished, interrupting her plea.
Victoire began to cry even more. “Papa! You have to understand!”
France looked at her coldly. “You are not my daughter. Not anymore.”
Victoire looked at her father with wide eyes before she began to sob. The soldiers picked her up and began to walk her up the stairs to the guillotine. They put her head down and locked her in.
Victoire looked down at the horrible basket that would become her head’s final resting place and then she lifted her head up to look at the four countries that were going to witness her death.
She looked at France and made one final plea, “Papa please! I truly love-”
The guillotine’s blade fell. Bloodied long blond hair flowed out of the basket.
France turned and quickly walked away from the scene, not staying to watch the men lift up the blade so they could roll the body in the box next to it. The other nations finally caught up with the fast walking France.
“Francis…” started England before a very familiar young woman ran up to them carrying a bouquet of roses. England, America and Canada stared in shock as the same woman who was just beheaded in front of them was now running towards them with smile on her face.
“Ah Vichy, are these lovely flowers for me?” he said taking them from her arms.
Vichy nodded. “Yes they are Papa! I’m so glad you are back!”
“Yes, but now we must get going. Berlin is waiting for us,” said France as he put one of the roses in Vichy’s hair before he began to walk away again.
Vichy waved after them. “Goodbye Papa and his allies! Long live France!”
As they walked away from the girl, America spoke up. "What just happened back there?"
"Nothing happened, America. Nothing at all."
