AN: India is my OC. This is his story. 3

Sorry if the format is confusing.

Warnings: Yaoi, smut, yaoi, rape, England being a dick, yaoi, India's whore-yness, angst, yoai, cutting, self mutilation, prostitution, yaoi, sex, drug-use.


It had only been a year since England had started coming to his house more often. At first, Abhay welcomed the visits, but, slowly... They got more and more annoying and frequent. At first, India only showed small acts of rebellion, like making his sitting room incredibly messy or making on the pictures on his walls lopsided, which he knew annoyed the Brit to no end. Other times, he would slip drugs into the blonde's drinks and roll him outside on the front step when he passed out. Even further yet, he began to whore himself out, knowing it would break Arthur's heart if he found out, while each and every time India had a man over that wasn't Arthur, it tore him up inside.

It was during one such visit that this story begins.

"Abhay!" The Englishman called, stepping through the front door. Upon hearing loud moans and other noises from the main sitting-room/guest room, he froze a moment, then burst through the doorway to find his colony eagerly riding some random, huge human man. Instantly, rage filled his mind.

Abhay cried out loudly, angling his hips as he slammed himself down on the large male again. He didn't even notice Arthur, or hear the angry footsteps as the blonde approached. He let out a loud yelp as he was grabbed by his braid and yanked off the man and to the floor. Yelling obscenities in Hindu, he thrashed, clawing at the hand on his hair as he was dragged to his bedroom. "Let-let me go!" He finally slipped into English, though it was thickly accented. "Let me go!"

England merely glared over at him, yanking him up to stand, but not releasing him, as he glared into the deep green eyes. Suddenly, a fist connected with the blonde's cheek, snapping his head to the side and causing him to release Abhay's braid. "Don't fucking touch me!" The normally peaceful, quiet man screamed at the taller male. "YOU DON'T OWN ME! I'M NOT YOUR SLA-!"

Lips smashed together violently, a tongue being forced into the unwilling mouth to quiet him. The petite male thrashed as he was invaded, trying to shove the other off of him.

India was shoved against the wall, teeth attacking his throat and neck as he struggled to remain completely silent. "Get... Get off of me, Arthur..." The tanned male growled, struggling to push the stronger man off him. "I will never submit to you."

There was a smirk from the blonde nation as he bit violently into India's neck, causing him to scream in pain. "You will submit to me, Abhay... Whether you like it or not..." He growled against the forming bruise.

"N-never..." India choked out, closing his eyes tightly as he felt England's hands slip over his chest. He gasped, arching involuntarily as he felt calloused fingers rubs over his nipples. "S-stop..." His voice was starting to sound more like a moan... He could feel England smirking against his neck. He sighed in relief as the blonde pulled away, just to remove his shirt.

Blunt nails scratched down the exposed soft, dark skin, leaving light lines over the uke's chest and causing him to whimper in pain. "A-Arthur... Y-you're hurting me... S-stop..." The weak pleas were completely ignored as the blonde bit into the dark, delicate neck violently, drawing blood.

Pulling back with blood on his lips, Arthur smirked cruelly, reaching down to cup the half-hardened member in his hand, massaging the flesh roughly to full hardness within seconds. "A-ah~... S-stop~!" India moaned lowly, arching at the touch.

"Why?" England growled, sneering. "Is this not what you wanted? To be fucked bloody by someone bigger than you?" The blonde laughed coldly as he saw the tears welling up in his colony's eyes.

"N-no... That i-isn't it a-at all..." India choked on his words, the tears falling like small waterfalls down his cheeks. "P-please... Stop..."

"Don't lie to me, little India..." Arthur murmured into his ear, dragging him to the bed and throwing him down on it face first. England climbed onto the bed, kneeling behind the small man and yanking his hips up, pushing his knees under him so he'd stay up.

That dark-skinned, feminine beauty pressed his face into the soft blankets on his bed, trembling violently. He heard the shuffle of clothing that meant England had freed himself from the prison that was his pants, and steeled himself for what he thought was coming. He was slightly confused when he felt cold, sharp metal against the flesh just above his left butt-cheek. He cried out as pain shot through his nerves, feeling the knife tearing into his skin and deep into his muscle.

So very slowly and careful to cause the most pain, England carved his initials into India's backside, grinning sadistically to himself at the cries that the colony released. As he finished, Arthur scooped up some of the blood, spreading it over himself before he slammed into the man beneath him, not stopping to let him adjust as he pulled out and slammed back in. He dug his short, blunt nails into the wound he had created, relishing Abhay's scream.

"Oh, god! Arthur, stop! Please, please!" The abused man begged helplessly, not even able to find the energy to thrash. "P-please..." He choked out, sobbing. The pleas only made the Brit put his full strength behind his thrusts, causing India to scream louder.

"I thought this is what you –nngh!- wanted!" Arthur growled as he leaned forward to bite at India's ear violently, causing him to whimper in pain. "I thought... That this... Was... What you wa-...G-gah! Wanted!" With a final, extremely violent thrust, England came into the other. Sitting back up, and pulling out, he glared at the bloodied back of his colony. "You're trash." He growled, moving off the bed and kicking India over as he did, watching him fall limply onto the bed.

"I know..." The small, defeated male whispered, unheard by England. He watched with agonized, betrayed eyes as the other redressed, then left. India reached for the knife the blonde had left behind, grabbing it and throwing it at the wall, watching as it stuck there.


Abhay bit his lip as he flipped through the old pictures. There were pictures of him in skimpy outfits, being forcefully held in Arthur's lap, looking completely and utterly dead and broken. Other pictures were of him touching himself with tears running down his face. While others yet were of him have sex with other men, or with Arthur. And, seeing these pictures again just tore his heart to pieces, thinking that Arthur had never really loved him back... That he was merely just another colony. Just another country for him to conquer...

"I'm glad I'm on my own again... It feels nice to be free..."

Soon, he got to the pictures that were taken before he rebelled, and those, in some way, tore him up more inside then the others... Seeing himself sitting happily in Arthur's lap with those arms wrapped around him lovingly as he leaned into the larger man's chest, perfectly at peace. He curled up on his bed in the middle of a sea of all those pictures and cried himself to sleep.


India remained limp, not struggling, as he was forced into some weird outfit that Arthur had brought for him. There was this thing called a "camera" set up across from them and some customer of Abhay's standing behind it to take the... "Photographs", that's what Arthur had called them...

It had been forty three years since his rebellion, and he had slowly fell into a dead, lifeless form of submission. He was unnaturally thin from the famines that had plagued him and his people... So many died... Even he was still barely alive in the shell that was tossed around without concern by the one person who he had ever loved...

"Alright, Abhay. You ready?" The blonde asked, sitting in the large, high-backed chair and pulling the Indian into his lap sideways. The smaller male flinched as the first picture was taken and the flash went off. Instinctively, he buried his face in England's neck, whimpering and clinging to him. Seeing this, Arthur almost felt bad. Almost. Instead of telling the photographer to stop and get out, he tangled his hand in Abhay's silky, loose black hair, pulling him back and smashing their lips together.

There was another flash, but India didn't flinch this time, instead just laying limply, lifelessly in his blonde's master's arms. He felt a hand on his back, starting to undo the laces of the dark red corset that was practically crushing his ribs. He didn't react as the material fell from his body and to the floor. Abhay felt England pull away, only to start attacking his chest with bites and nips. The small, dark man didn't even try to stop the quiet mewls that spilt from his lips.

While all this was happening, various pictures were being taken. Arthur turned his colony around on his lap so the uke's back was pressed against his chest, spreading his legs to reveal everything between his legs. One hand slid down to graze fingertips over the smaller male's entrance.


Don'cha just hate me for leaving it here? There'll be more soon-ish. I swear.