A/N: Yet another deanon. This time the request was for England being caned with bonuses for bondage and figging. So, basically, this is a short piece of smut that took me far too long to write. But, hey, you get some bottom!England for eyebrows day, so it's alright by me XD

Although there's not much evidence of it in the narrative, this takes place in the late 70's.

"You sure you want this, baby?" America asked while working the long, thin cane in his hand.

England rolled his eyes. They'd been making out like a pair of horny teenagers for the past twenty minutes, they were both fully aroused and stark naked, and now America was taking the time to question him? "You would think that after living for this long I'd know what I enjoy."

"I know, I know. But you get nervous whenever you try to do something new with me, and this is a lot at once."

"That's because you've been greedy, getting it all for years..."

America scowled and set the cane down, "You never said anything!"

England grinned and bent over the table before him. America was always so cute when he was flustered. America began to tie him down. England sighed happily as the heavy shackles were placed around his ankles and wrists and the leather collar was fastened around his neck and attached to a short leash that allowed him to lift his head only about three inches. Next came the thick leather strap across his back, already softened with years of use. If only it had been him straining against it all this time!

"No role-play tonight," America said, "I don't wanna have to deal with safewords and codes. You just tell me what you need, okay?"

"Alright," England said, turning his head so that he could still see him from the corner of his eye. The cool metal of the table felt good against his overheated skin.

America gently brushed England's cheek, "You sure about this?"

"Idiot, it would hardly be called 'The English Vice' if I didn't enjoy it."

America laughed and leaned down to nuzzle him gently. A bit too gently for what they were about to do in England's opinion. How was it he didn't know how to do this properly? Domination should come naturally to America. After all, he had that confounded strength and that gorgeous athletic build, not to mention his boundless determination and superpower status. But in spite of all that there was just something so innocent and soft about him. Normally England was fond of the latter two traits. He loved to hold and be held, to cuddle and to be cuddled. But for fuck's sake, they'd stood between him and what he wanted for decades!

"Alright, then. If you're sure, the ginger's going in."

England nodded and took a deep breath. He felt America gently prodding his entrance with the root and rolled his eyes. It wasn't like the boy to be hesitant.

"Not everyone dislikes this, you know. I suggested it to you back in the fifties because a lot of people do rather enjoy it."

"Shut up!" America blushed, "I'm new at this. It's weird for me."

"Oh..." England shook his head lightly, allowing the jingling of his earrings to clear away the slight guilt he felt for ignoring that possibility. That wasn't like him. He was fairly certain he was sober for once too.

But his words had apparently done some good because America finally eased the ginger into him. England tried to throw his head back, but the chain stopped him. He hissed and began to pull against his restraints. God! He had forgotten how intense it was. He felt as though his insides were on fire, but they were burning in the most pleasant way. He took shallow, rapid breaths and forced himself to lie still. He didn't dare clench, not yet, not when everything was still so raw and new.

"How you doing?" America asked, stroking his hip.

"Fucking fantastic," England muttered, eyelids fluttering without his command. Oh, America... How could he be standing there like that, biting his lip, fidgeting, and looking on with concerned eyes, when he had England almost writhing in a mix of pain and pleasure beneath him?

"Are you okay for me to start with... with this?" England heard the slight clatter as America lifted the cane from where he had set it next to him.

"Oh yes," England said breathlessly, "Do it, America!"

He heard the shuffling and watched as best he could as America got into a stance like a batter's. He twisted, ready to strike, but paused. Upon seeing him about to deliver the blow England instinctively clenched. The root inside of him burned and he cried out. America visibly stiffened, most likely fearing he had hurt England in spite of the fact that that was the entire bloody point.

"Dammit, America! Just fucking hit me already!"

Mercifully, he listened, bringing his arms forward and smacking England's rump. England's moans drowned out the sharp crack of the cane as pain blossomed across his behind. His heart raced as America pulled back for another stroke. His instincts told him to run, to defend himself somehow, but the restraints held him down against the table. America hit him again. His breathing and heart rate went faster and faster and fuck, he hadn't felt so alive in decades. This was better than the music, better than the drugs, oh bloody hell, how had he forgotten? His cock twitched.

He turned his head as far as he could and looked back at America. He looked terrifying standing over him like that, so big and strong and dominant. Oh, oh, he deserved to be punished for doing so much damage to the Alpha Male over the years, oh yes he did. He had to be taught his place. America needed to teach him his place. He needed to mark him with teeth and come and everything, make it so that he'd never forget, so that he'd never challenge him again, so that when he did challenge him again (as he surely would) his punishment could be all the sweeter.

But he couldn't think of the words to articulate that as he looked back at him. He was sure he looked like some sort of wild animal, eyes wide and trails of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. However he actually looked, it must not have been very pleasant because then America was looking down at him in terror. The cane clattered to the ground and America bent over him, leaving kisses all over his shoulders.

"Ssh, hush, baby, it's okay. I'm here, I've got you. The hero's got you. You're gonna be okay." He pulled the ginger out, making the burn turn into a dull throb.

England blinked, confused. Why had he stopped? Why was he doing all this? He was supposed to be punishing him!

It took him a few moments to find his tongue, but once he did he managed to sputter out, "A-ame... What?"

"Sssh, it's okay, England. You're okay."

"But you-"

"No, no, it's okay. I love you, remember? You're safe. See? Safe."

"Safe?" He repeated, still feeling dizzy.

"Yeah. Now come on," He reached over and began to fiddle with the shackle around England's wrist, "Let's go get you a bath and some nice warm pajamas and maybe some ice cream. And then-"

Now it made sense. America thought he'd gone too far, that England was actually upset. He started to laugh.

America froze, "E-England?"

"I'm fine, you bloody idiot. I simply have a tendency to get lost in the moment, if you've forgotten."

"But you looked so scared-"

"And I enjoy it."

"Why?"

England shrugged as best as he could with America's weight pressing down on him, "Why do you enjoy horror films so?"

He was quiet.

"America, if I truly didn't want something, you would know. I wouldn't just allow myself to be treated poorly."

"Okay." He stroked the side of England's face, "So I'm guessing you want me to keep going, then?"

"Yeah," England breathed, "Please, America. I need this."

"Alright." He kissed England's shoulder and then stood. England shivered as the cold air took America's place. He shook his head again, trying to get back into the moment.

"Give me the ginger again first." He said when America reached for the cane.

"O-oh, right," America said. He slid the root back inside and England squirmed as the burn came back with even more intensity than it had had before the brief reprieve. He wanted to rub against something, anything to relieve the pressure in his groin, but the table was too far away, America was too far away, everything was too damn far away! This time he heard the woosh- crack of the cane before he felt it. He screamed, taken completely by surprise. America didn't give him a chance to recover, hitting him again and again. England let out a sound that was too high-pitched and plaintive for his liking.

"See, America?" He panted, "See? You're a bloody natural."

America laughed but didn't reply. Instead he began to use more force. England couldn't even moan anymore. All he could do was lay his face on the table and try desperately to breathe. Everything was lost to the arousal and the pain and the blood pounding in his ears. Fuck, how was the cane still in one piece? Hell, how was England still in one piece?

"Fuck me," He breathed, barely registering the words, "Oh fuck me."

"Sorry," America said, ceasing the blows to jiggle the ginger root, "I think something else is taking that spot."

"M-Meri!" England choked out, clenching around the root.

"Don't worry, though, I've got an idea." He began to push England's legs closed.

England felt his cock twitch. He wasn't. Oh, god, he wasn't-

"Come on, it's not gonna work if you don't have your legs together."

Oh, he was! England did as he was told, squeezing his thighs as tightly as he could and allowing America to dive between them. He choked on air for a moment. It was almost too much: an even greater burning from the ginger, America's hips rubbing against his sore arse, and that thick fantastic cock between his thighs. He clawed at the table, his short nails doing absolutely nothing to the metal surface.

America apparently took that as his cue to begin moving, thrusting in and out recklessly. He took the initiative to bite him, digging his teeth into England's shoulder. There was no way there wouldn't be a huge purple bruise there in the morning, but England couldn't care less at the time. He felt his skin tear and blood start to seep from the wound. Apparently that turned America on just as much as it had him because then America was leaking precome all over his legs. He stopped biting and began to lick instead, pressing his hot, wide tongue against the break.

"Ah- Ah- America!"

He pulled away to whisper in England's ear, "I'm not gonna touch you, baby. You can come from this. I've seen you do it." England whined as America let out a few puffs of air right onto his ear, "Oh, I'm close too. You're good- good at this. Nice and tight. Come on, England, come for me!"

He closed his teeth around the top of England's ear and tugged, the pull made even sharper by the multiple piercings America had caught. It was that extra bit of pain that pushed him over the edge. He cried out and spilled himself onto the floor. Somewhere in the middle of his orgasm, America came too, spreading his warm seed all over England's thighs.

For a few moments England just lay there with his eyes closed, completely incapable of thought. His hand twitched and he gasped for breath, but other than that he didn't move. America recovered more quickly, pulling himself away and beginning to undo the bindings. England didn't so much as open his eyes. He simply allowed America's hands to smooth over him, trusting him to remove the heavy collar and chains.

"You were really brave," He said, copying the phrase that England usually used once they were finished, "And hot too." He kissed England's unbitten shoulder, "I'm not sure if I like this as much as some other stuff, but we can definitely do it again."

England groaned appreciatively, wondering how America was always so full of energy after their scenes.

"You know you can stand now," America said, nuzzling him. "All the chains and stuff are gone."

"I know. I just don't want to. Let's stay here a while."

"That can't be too comfy."

"I'm fine, love. Come here."

Hesitantly, America eased back over England. England turned his head and kissed him, the best thank you he could give before settling down and enjoying America's warm, solid, reassuring weight for just a bit longer.