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ragdoll physics {blue + mei}

The small cry was a nice bonus for Nik. He had expected the other to be either stronger or more prideful than to verbalize any sort of pain inflicted by Nikolaus. Not like he was complaining, of course. The red mark left on the skin from his hand was also a nice touch- no pun intended. And Christov still had a lot left to worry about.

He watched with mild amusement as the man forced himself onto his hands and knees to pick up the dish that he was so foolish enough to drop. Thankfully, the task didn't take too long, or else Nikolaus would have grown bored again. The soldier waited for Christov to lean over the table as he was ordered to before walking up behind the man.

Nikolaus rolled his eyes before giving the man a rough push against the table and then down so that his chest was flat against the tabletop and was bended at a ninety-degree angle. The skirt pulled up to reveal almost the entirety of Christov's ass and Nik used his left hand to push the skirt up the rest of the way.

There were no words. Only his dominant, right hand reeling back and then coming down upon the man's rear with nearly twice the power he had hit the man's face with. A very clear, red imprint of his hand was left on the man's right cheek but Nikolaus wasn't done. He repeated the process, smacking every inch of the right side man's ass down to his thigh to the point where his skin glowed an angry red.

His hand moved to grasp a fistful of that light, blonde hair that he envied to force Christov's head to turn in his direction. "Am I going to have to do the other side, or have you learned?"
 
  • He gave a small grunt as he was pushed further against the table, feeling his chin collide against the wooden table. He shivered as he felt Nik's hand against his ass, then push the skirt up even more, revealing his bare ass to the man. He squeezed his eyes shut, and held in a whimper. This was just. . . so invasive. And he had an idea of what the Nazi was going to do - but he wasn't saying anything, so he couldn't be quite sure.

    A sharp cry left his throat - louder than when he was slapped - as he felt the hand collide with his ass, feeling the flesh jiggle slightly at the harsh impact. And oh, it hurt so much more than when he was slapped across the face. And poor naive Chris, he simply thought it would only be one slap, but it wasn't, because he felt more coming down on him. He could feel his skin burn, feel it turn a bright red.

    And was it wrong that there was a vague feeling of pleasure from the pain? More whimpers.

    He felt a hand fist itself iin his blonde hair, then jerk his head so he was staring up at Nikolaus, his eyes tearing slightly. "L-let go of my hair. . ." He hissed, glaring up at him. His hands were clenched, trying to block out the residual pain he was feeling from the spanking. Why the hell was he so deliberately stupid as to provoke the other man into hurting him even more? [/list:u]
 
Ah, those cries would never get old. Ever since their years at the academy, Nikolaus had always wanted to be the one to bring such pain to his rival; he wouldn't let enemy soldiers have all the fun. And the teared-up eyes brought great amounts of happiness to him.

"I guess not," he growled in response when Christov answered him by telling him to let go of his hair. Who the hell did that bastard think he was, trying to order Nikolaus around? Not only did Nik make it clear that Christov was supposed to obey everything he said, but he just gave the man a good, literal ass-whooping to show what happens when Christov chooses to not do things his way.

And honestly, he was bitching about having his hair pulled a bit. It wasn't like Nikolaus was choking him or anything. As if to spite the other's words, Nik tightened his grip on the golden locks and pressed the side of the man's face against the table. "I'll make sure you'll regret it every time you try and tell me to do something. Remember: I'm the one in control here."

Nikolaus finally let go of the other's hair and pushed the skirt up once again. Time for round two. Immediately, he began to smack the left side of Christov's ass, putting every bit of strength he had into each smack. He was only satisfied until it grew even redder than its right counterpart. Once the task was finished, he grabbed the back of the dress to force Christov to stand back up. "You got anything else smart to say, or have you learned your lesson?"
 
  • He could never understand why some people got off on another's pain - he knew the concept of Schadenfreude, but as for literal, physical pain. . . He just didn't understand. In the case of most people with the Jews, he simply accepted it and mvoed on, but now that the pain was being inflicted on him, Christov was mulling over those thoughts again, unable to comprehend why he was being hurt in this way, and why Nikolaus was enjoying it.

    Giving a low hiss as the grip on his hair was tightened, and his hair was forced against the table once more, the man bit back more sarcastic retorts as he heard the other Nazi remind him that he was in control. And he was right. He held Christov's life, could pull his strings to make him dance like a puppet. Why the hell was he being so stupid and deliberately pissing the other man off?

    Because he could.

    And this time, his cries were even louder as he was being spanked again - it reminded him of his childhood, when his father would use his belt to beat him if he disobeyed or did something wrong. Christov choked back a pained sob when Nikolaus was finally finished, and he sagged against the table. "N-nothing. . ." He managed to gasp out as he was forced to stand up. But he was glad that he wans't facing Nikolaus - after all, despite having not-so-fond memories of getting his ass beat as a child, Christov was, inevitably, a masochist because of those same experiences. And my, how awkward would it be to explain the fact that he was somewhat turned on by being spanked?

    And by someone he hated, no less?[/list:u]
 
Nikolaus rubbed his right hand gingerly on the side of his pant leg. After smacking the other's skin so many times, his hand had grown red and began to sting, as well. And while he knew that it was nothing close to as bad as how Christov's ass must be hurting right now, his hand still stung like a bitch. He gave a small growl, examining his fingers and palm before finally putting his hand into his pocket. He'd suck it up. After all, he was a soldier and has had a lot worse than this.

Now came the matter of Christov. By the way he was standing, it was obvious that something was bothering him- Nik was pretty sure that it was his ass- and the bastard didn't even bother to turn around or do anything for that matter. With an annoyed huff, he grasped the man's shoulder and forced him to turn around. He waited long enough for the other to do something.

"Well?" His features were impassive. "Aren't you going to say anything? Apologize for breaking my things? Ask if there's anything you can do right now? For fuck's sake, you could go back to cooking," he rambled, giving the other a small shove in the direction of the stove. This attitude was beginning to piss Nikolaus off. What the hell was the guy thinking, just standing around?
 
  • He was silent, and only swallowed nervously as he was forced to turn around by the Nazi, and ignored the small shove to the stove, pleased, however, that Nikolaus didn't notice that the skirt of the maid's dress didn't fall quite right around his legs. He took a shuddering breath, wanting it to away. Willing it to go away.

    "Shut up. . . j-just shut up. . ." He hissed low under his breath, his voice shaking slightly, trying to think of something - anything that would make his arousal go away. Some sort of thought that would make him despise being turned on by Nikolaus. He gave a small shudder. God, nature had decided to imbue him with some strange fetishes.

    Christov turned his back on Nikolaus, and, with shaking legs, walked back to the stove, although he knew he would face some sort of repurcussion for telling Nikolaus to shut-up. And really, he'd be glad if the other man was stupid enough to not even realize that Christov was aroused - what great ammo that would be, more chances for humiliation and embarassment of course.

    If he realized it at all, of course.[/list:u]
 
Shut up? Did that goddamn traitor just order him to shut up? Nikolaus found himself raging beyond belief at the way Christov was talking to him. The stupidity of it all pissed him off to the point where, for a moment, he didn't know what the fuck to do. All he knew was that he was angry and he was going to do something about it. He didn't know what that would be or how he would get it to happen, but he did know that it was going to be something that would make Christov regret doing what he did.

His foolishness left Nikolaus beyond words. That fucker didn't realize how deep in shit he was and how easily Nik could end his life with a single sentence. Or maybe was it that Christov didn't believe that Nik would actually report him in? Either way, Nikolaus didn't like how things were turning out and he wanted to squash that problem right now.

Before Christov was able to return to the stove, Nik reached out to wrap a hand around the back of his neck and dragged the man back over, digging his fingers into the skin to make sure that Christov wasn't going anywhere. The nazi stepped around the other so that he was standing in front now, though kept his grip as tight as ever.

His mouth opened to scold the other- to abuse the man with every word and tone in his vocabulary, but something caught his eye. He didn't remember the maid skirt flaring out like that. Then came that look of realization as the thought hit him- similar to the look Christov had when he realized that he was supposed to be a maid. But he had to be sure. "Take off your clothes."
 
  • Yes, he had told him to shut up. To just shutup and leave him alone and. . . to just leave him alone for a few hours would be nice. Not that he would get that - and he knew that Nikolaus would simply blow up at him for even daring to talk back in that manner. And he did - oh, yes, he did it. But now he would have to pay for that, of course, but he didn't know how he was going to do it.

    There was a strangled, choking sound as Christov felt the other man's fingers wrap around his neck, feeling the nails dig into the soft skin there. It would leave marks, that was for sure - red crescents that would make him cringe. At least the collar on his Nazi uniform would be high enough to cover something like that up.

    Instead of resisting the pull backwards, Christov walked backwards as well, trying to loosen the harsh pressure on his throat (shit, wasn't helping his arousal - goddamn the pain. . . but oh, Lord, it was erotic. . . ). But even then, the pressure didn't loosen up, and Christov closed his eyes briefly, feeling his airway become constricted slightly from those fingers.

    He blinked, as Nikolaus stepped in front of him, and he knew that the other man was about to yell at him. But then he saw that look - that realization, and he knew that Nikolaus knew. Quickly, Christov, think of anything - old women with sagging breasts, those emaciated skeletons of Jews in concentration camps, the dead and dying and rotting on battle fields. . . anything that might give rise to disgust. But nothing - the dull sting and pulse of pain was still there on his ass.

    And he didn't have any choice to say no. Christov reached behind him to undo the zipper of the dress, pulling it down slowly, and when it reached the end, he slowly pulled down the dress around his chest, down to his waist, then finally pulled it all the way down to his ankles, stepping out of the dress, leaving him in the garters that had come with the maid's dress. And oh, yes, Nikolaus was right - there was indeed an erection, and Christov's pale face flamed a furious red.[/list:u]
 
Well, would you look at that. He was right. What a goddamn, kinky little fuck. He never would have guessed the bastard would get a rise out of getting smacked. But what was it, exactly, that the guy found so arousing? Was it being dominated? The pain? Or maybe the whole crossdressing situation has been giving him that warm, fuzzy feeling on the inside ever since the start.

Either way, Nikolaus didn't seem too pleased about the fact that the other got an erection from it all. His features darkened- his eyes narrowed and lips curved downwards in a frown. Nik tugged the man over to the stove, using his free hand to slide the pot Chistov had been cooking in off the burner. He grabbed the blonde's wrist and forced the plam of his hand against the fire-hot burner. He waited for that angry, sizzling noise to reach his ears before pulling the hand off and forcing it down to wrap Christov's fingers around his own arousal, the palm of his hand no doubt, still hot.

"Here I am, punishing you for being out-of-line," he hissed, squeezing his hand even tighter around Christov's, "And you're fucking enjoying yourself?" Nik let go of the hand and neck, finally. He gave Christov another shove- no particular direction this time. Just a shove to let out his anger. "I swear to god, you're a goddamn pain. It'll be easier to throw you in front of the firing squad."
 
  • Maybe it was the pain - he had been, after all, used to such a thing ever since his childhood. And, as with pain given to him by another person, he was used to domination. It was simply something. . . he was used to. Maybe not necessarily enjoyed as a childhood, but it certainly seemed like he was enjoying it now at any rate. Being forced into such a servile position was. . . He had to stop himself from shivering.

    It was delightful, in a strange and twisted sort of way.

    However, he was fearful for how Nikolaus would respond to this now. He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds as he was forced forward to the stove, and he could feel the heat from burners. He wasn't quite sure as to what Nikolaus was intending to do until the other man had moved the pot off the burner, and then grasped his hand. "No!" He twisted his hand in the grip, and he was about to cry out another 'Nein', but instead of that, there was only a sharp cry of pain as he felt the excruciating heat against the palm of his hand, and there was the sizzle and the sharp smell of burning flesh. "Stop! Please!"

    And at least, the hand was pulled away from the burner, but instead of having it let go by Nikolaus, he felt the other man move it down to his erection, forcing his fingeres to wrap around it. There was a sharp sensation, and the flariing heat from his burnt palm - and the reaction was only a small twitch of his cock, and some precum sliding down the length of his erection. And besides - it wasn't like he was consciously enjoying himself.

    "Please, don't," Christov whispered quietly. Don't send me to the firing squad, please don't send me to my death, please don't, please, anything but that. . .[/list:u]
 
Nik took hold of Christov's wrist again to bring the hand up for examination. The skin was red and marred- blisters were starting to bubble up and there was no question that this would need some medical attention soon or else the damage would get a lot worse. Either way, the hand wasn't going to be able to be used with its normal mobilization for a while. Nikolaus would probably have to wrap it before sending the guy home or else the hand may not be fit tomorrow to do the rest of his paperwork.

Gray eyes shifted down to gaze at the damage done to Christov's dick. Nothing nearly as bad as the hand. The skin was just irritated from the uncomfortable heat and it probably hurt a lot worse than it looked. Compared to his hand, where it hurt just as bad as it appeared to, it was a good sign. However, what Nik was not satisfied with was the sight of the precum- he was still enjoying himself.

How the fuck did he manage that? Christov was shouting and begging for Nik to take his hand off the burner and yet, he was still getting even more aroused by it? There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the guy was a masochist- and what Nik had to do now was find out a way to embarass and hurt the guy so damn much that he was too focused on the pain and humiliation to get excited by it.

Nikolaus' features remained impassive. "Why shouldn't I? I promised your safety so long as you do everything I say and so far, you have disobeyed me, broken my plate, and tried telling me what to do. For all I'm doing for you, you're being damn ungrateful. I didn't even get a thank-you."
 
  • Christov gave a small shudder as Nikolaus examined his hand - there were blisters already, and, as he twitched a finger in experimentation - there was a shocking stab of pain that coursed through his arm. Hopefully Nikolaus would remember to wrap it, or give the marred skin some sort of medical attention lest he scar horrendously, and not have the entire mobility of his fingers. And all for having a reaction he didn't even want. . . He gave a small wince.

    That, and he couldn't do his own work tomorrow for that matter, since it was his right hand that Nikolaus had pressed against the burner, although he supposed he could manage somewhat with his left hand. He shivered slightly as he felt Nikolaus look down at his erect dick - oh, Jesus, how embarassing. But. . . delightful, in some strange way. And no, he wasn't exactly enjoying himself. He just couldn't help the fact that he was turned on by pain - but. . . but. . .Oh, he just didn't know.

    And oh, it was so true that he was a masochist. And a hardcore one at that - really, getting his palm burned, and then forced to press the burned and marred skin against his own sensitive erection. More repressed shudders. He couldn't explain it - couldn't explain how he loved being hurt, dominated, abused? How could he explain it when it was something even he didn't quite know?

    Christov gave a slow blink, and looked up at Nikolaus. He couldn't read the other man's face at all - so hard to tell what he was thinking. His eyes flickered away, gently and slowly pulled his hand away and out of Nikolaus' grip. "I. . . I'm sorry I disobeyed. I didn't mean to," he mumbled. "And. . . and. . ." He swallowed. He was putting all of his pride, all of his value as a human being, somewhere on a shelf in the back of his mind. "Thank you for not sending me to the firing squad. Please, what do I have to do so that you won't turn me in?" He was pleading now."Anything, anything. . ."

    Oh, God, he couldn't believe he had just said that.[/list:u]
 
Complete and utter submission. It may sound like a pretty daunting price, but essentially, that was all Nikolaus was asking for. Up until now, Christov was trying to maintain what little pride he had left- tried to show that although his life was now owned by the nazi, he still had his beliefs and would not be afraid to show it. However, that was no longer the case. Nik was very pleased to see how the other raised the white flag. It seemed that although the man was a glutton for punishment, he still feared for his life greatly. That was good. There was still something Nikolaus could unconditionally hold over his head.

Now it was time for some positive reinforcement. After all, if he did not reward Christov when his behavior was as expected, the man would have no sort of incentive to do the right thing. If there was punishment for both good and bad actions, what was the point of jumping through hoops if it was only going to bring pain, anyways? But then again, he got a kick out of pain- on a subconscious level, of course. Nikolaus didn't like that his main method of keeping the guy down was also one of Christov's biggest kinks. He constantly had to remind himself that although Christov's body reacted with excitement, the man's mind still didn't like the idea of being hurt.

A small smile graced his features and he rose a hand to gently trace the other's jawline before placing a surprisingly chaste kiss upon Christov's lips. "That wasn't too hard, now, was it?" The hand moved to comb his fingers through the blonde hair. "All you have to do is be a good boy and we won't have any problems. And look, I'll even reward you this time." His hand dropped to the other's erection, running his index finger along the entire length, the tip of his finger slightly wet from the precum which he wiped off on Christov's bare chest. "I'll give you a short break so you can take care of that," he purred, nodding at the other's cock. "You can only use that hand, though," he added, eyes wandering to the burned fingers.
 
  • He flinched slightly as he felt a hand trace along his jaw; the touch was light and faint, just barely there. But it was so unlike Nikolaus, and it was a strange - though not necessarily an unwelcome - change. But the kiss! His bright blue eyes widened in shock, and he jerked back in surprise - what the hell was with that random display of - affection? - from Nikolaus.

    But, oh. It was hard! It was so damn hard. So hard to shove his pride and self-respect to the back of his mind, to put all of that on hold. But. . . he shivered slightly as he felt the fingers run through his hair. If submitting meant rewards like this - a small kiss, a reassuring hand through his hair, and oh, fuck, a finger teasing his dick - was that so bad? Every part of him wanted to scream that yes, it was horrible - that he'd give himself up so easily just for a few light touches and a pat on the head.

    "I. . ." Christov blinked. He was confused, yes, but. . . He certainly wasn't complaining. He was allowed to finish pleasing himself (and oh, damn, there were those fantasies again that hsi mind unwillingly supplied). He glanced at his burned hand - only that one? Damn. "Thank you." He supposed that thanking the other Nazi was the right thing to do - not that he was sure, but. . . "Where?" Did Nikolaus intend for him to jack off with his burned hand here, on in the bathroom?[/list:u]
 
The shock in the other's eyes was almost as gratifying as the hatred and pain they held moments before. Sometimes, he forgot how surprising his own actions could be. After all, all he did was give the man a little kiss. It had slipped his mind that his reputation was one where he was an asshole all the time- most likely because it was true. His relationship record wasn't the best (loyalty to one person was not an option since he seemed to fuck everything that moved and his treatment towards women wasn't too kind, either. Unless you called a smack in the face his way of saying 'I love you'). However, everyone had their moments. Even Nikolaus.

He wondered faintly what would mess Christov's mind up even more: treating the man like the lying dog he was or being forgiving and acting kind. Would it tear the man's conscience if Nikolaus not only spared his life, but treated him like a brother? Or was it better to just continue to mar the man and take advantage of every opportunity to humiliate him? Nikolaus was curious to find out the answer but was in no rush. Christov was far from dying of natural causes.

"I don't care, just clean up when you're done." He wouldn't take too kindly to Christov leaving jizz hanging around to dry. Privacy was no matter to him and the guy could get off on his front lawn if he so desired. His neighbors could be nosey, little fucks but they wouldn't dare to bring it up to someone else because- well, Nikolaus had his ways of making even the chattiest women shut her whore mouth. "Just not by the food."
 
  • He was breathing in a shallow manner, as he mulled over what had just happened in the past few hours. He was caught - by his worst enemy, to make it worse - was blackmailed into doing whatever the man had wanted, finished his work, drove him home, and then was forced into a maid's outfit to cook for him, and then was spanked and he had gotten aroused from that. Christov closed his eyes, and took a shuddering breath. Dear God, what the hell was he coming to? Aroused by Nikolaus, and of him spanking his ass like he was a little child? Forced to wear a maid's uniform and garters? God, he was a depraved and perverse individual.

    And now Nikolaus was treating him kindly. Kindly! It didn't seem like Nikolaus was capable of such acts - no matter how small. And it tored at Christov to think, to feel that the other Nazi was treating him in such a manner. Where was the yelling? The verbal assaults that he had expected? The physical abuse? The mental abuse that he had prepared himself to take? Why was Nikolaus being nice?

    It wasn't what he was expecting, and it hurt.

    But now he dipped his head in a brief manner, and then turned, pausing only to pick up the maid dress, and hurried to find a bathroom to get rid of his arousal. He found the bathroom in the house, and closed the door behind him, leaning against it despite the slow and steady burn he felt on his ass. His hand twitched towards his erection before he remebered Nikolaus' words - he was to use his burnt hand. Christov hesitated - how would the other man know if he followed his directions or not? By why even chance it?

    The burnt hand curled around his dick, and he gave a strangled moan, part pain and part pleasure. Oh, hell, why did it have to feel so good and why did it have to come from the asshole in the kitchen? He closed his eyes, and slowly stroked himself, urging himself to peak so he could rid himself of his embarassment and to hurry back and finish cooking the bastard's dinner and then leave. And the entire time he was in the bathroom, jerking himself off, he just couldn't help but think of himself bent over the kitchen table again, being spanked repeatedly.[/list:u]
 
Sure, Christov could probably do whatever the hell he wanted in the bathroom and Nik wouldn't have been any wiser about it. However, by this time, the nazi was pretty comfortable with his position over the other. Before the dish incident, Nikolaus was slightly worried about Christov rebelling or at least trying to escape from his control and even go so far as to seek out allied forces' help. But now his mind was set. There was no way in hell that the guy would dare disobey him anymore and if he did, it would most likely only be so he could receive a punishment. His own masochism would be his downfall. It would be the thing that would make him feel a need to keep himself under Nikolaus' thumb. Nik was his drug now. At least, that's how the nazi saw it. Call it what you want, but that's how things seemed to be.

Rather than waiting for Christov to finish up, Nikolaus decided to make his own dinner. He didn't want to eat anything that was made by that burned hand that- by this point- had been all over his dick, anyways. Since the food was already cooked for the most part, there wasn't much left for Nikolaus to do. All he had to do was stir the potatoes and wait for the meat to cook through. Once that was done with, he served himself a helping of dinner, setting his plate and silverware on the table before moving to pull out a second bowl. A dog bowl. He put in a decent amount of food in it- nothing insubstantial but nothing generous, either. He put the bowl on the ground before grabbing a bottle of wine, poured himself a glass, and then returned to his seat to begin eating his dinner.
 
[[! You're back, you're back! Yay! ^___^ <33 How're you feeling, though? o 3o ]]

After taking care of his erection (even despite the burned hand - it hurt like hell, by the way, to jack off when your skin was melted and burned like that), Christov quickly cleaned up and grabbed the dress and pulled it back over his head. Wriggling it down over his non-existent hips and fastened it quickly. He paused, and glanced at his hand - maybe he could rummage around and find something to wrap it up in. Briefly looking through the cabinets and drawers in the bathroom, Christov frowned slightly as he saw that there was nothing. What kind of person didn't keep first-aid supplies with them, especially during a war?

Well, apparently Nikolaus did.

Granted, while he wasn't willingly kept underneath Nikolaus' thumb. . . Christov frowned as he replaced everything he had gone through. He wasn't sure how to classify this now - he didn't to stay subservient towards the man, but he sure as hell wasn't really doing anything to escape, or to find help like he could now. After all - this was the perfect time. Nik wasn't here, he could've just snuck out somehow. But he wasn't. The blonde mused a little bit - Stolkholm Syndrome, perhaps? Not exactly identifying with Nik, but. . . Certainly a love-hate relationship between them - or at least on Christov's part.

After he was done, and still briefly nursing his burned hand, the blonde returned back down to the kitchen, and saw the Nik was already eating. He paused, tilted his head to one side. One spot - which was inhabited by the man already. He glanced around, then saw that there was the dog bowl on the ground. "You're not joking about that, are you?" Christov asked, nodding towards the dog bowl on the ground. Nik certainly was taking the 'become completely submissive to me and let me humiliate you' thing pretty damn seriously.
 
(Wh00t party. And I'm feeling much better, thank you 8). Turns out that when I said I was feeling better last week, I ended up getting sick again. But now it's all good).

By the time Christov had returned to the kitchen, Nikolaus hadn't eaten much of his dinner. After all, it wasn't like Christov's task was all that difficult and took long to finish. At first, the soldier didn't acknowledge the other's presence but then his eyes shifted and slowly followed the other as he walked further into the room. "Mmn. That was quick," he said, the insult said so casually, it could have almost been overlooked and not recognized as a backhanded statement at all.

That damned smirk crossed his features again at the other's reaction to the dog bowl. A flash of white teeth signified another job well-done to himself but the rest of his features showed that this was, in fact, no joke at all. What an ungrateful, little bastard. Nikolaus was kind enough to give him a good amount of his own food so the poor guy wouldn't starve and he was already complaining about it? He'd remember that for next time. He shouldn't have even given any to the bastard at all.

However, Nikolaus decided to keep his temper down and try to reason with the man. After all, there was something he had forgotten to do and it was certainly a thing to get upset over. "Oh, you're right. Silly me," he muttered, rising from his chair to walk over to the counter, pulling out a smaller bowl and holding it under the faucet and filled it with water. He walked over to the dog bowl, placing the water dish right next to it. "There, all fixed."

With that said and done, he went back to eating his dinner, clearly showing that he was expecting the other to keep his mouth shut from complaining.
 
[[Ah, that's good! And yes, I know how that certainly works. >>; You think you're feeling fine and then ALL OF SUDDEN GRAWR YOU'RE SICK AGAIN. DX]]

The man bristled slightly, recognizing the insult. Insults were completely unnecessary (oh, but Christov, they were necessary, they really were. . .) to the blonde, but he let it pass without a word. Christov stood there briefly as he saw that smirk on Nik's face, and there it was: That urge to punch the man again. What sort of kindness was this, if that's what Nik considered it to be? Kindness was, in his opinion, simply letting him go and not threatening him to be in this mess in the first place. Kindness was not forcing him to wear a maid's dress, or burning his hand against the burner, or spanking him. And kindness certainly wasn't making him eat off the floor.

Raising a hand and violently shoving it through his hair, Christov pressed his lips into a thin line as he watched Nikolaus get up and fill another bowl with water. Oh, no, Nikolaus was certainly serious about having him eat off the floor like an actual pet. And the way Nikolaus sat down once more and resumed eating - it had a certain finality, and Christov knew better than to argue or to say anything really, unless Nik was expecting a thank you for his supposed 'kindness'.

Walking over to the two bowls on the floor, he hesitated slightly and dropped to his hands and knees. This was so awkward, and there was the feeling of humiliation burning in every fiber of his being again. Bending his head down, Christov began to eat out of the dog bowl. What a strange reversal of roles this was - the one who was supposedly superior was relegated to the role of being a pet of sorts, eating from a dog bowl on the floor while the one who was inferior was controlling the other man. And what a strange scene this was if someone were to randomly walk in!
 
(Srsly, man D8 it's like your body's pulling tricks on you)

He watched as the anger lit up on Christov's face. Oh, that was beautiful. Nikolaus missed seeing that flash of annoyance flicker in the man's eyes. However, like a good pet, Christov didn't disobey. Instead, he was forced to watch as Nik put the bowl of water down and then, with most humiliation, have to eat from that bowl. The smirk didn't leave Nikolaus' face as he sat down and went back to eating.

The soldier took his time with his dinner; he never was really the type to rush these sorts of things. He was always a slow eater except for the times on the front lines where they were forced to chow down on whatever they could find, whenever they could find it. However, he wasn't one of those obnoxiously slow eaters. He took his food at a good pace and once he finished, he washed it down with wine before putting the dishes in the sink, expecting for Christov to take care of those.

Once the task was done, he disappeared into the hallway, opening one of the closets to retrieve his first aid kit. Who kept medical supplies in the bathroom? Oh, right. Most people. Oh well.

He returned to the kitchen, placing the medical kit on the table before turning his gaze to Christov. "Hurry up and let me take a look at your hand."
 
Christov had finished first, and didn't even attempt to drink out of the water bowl (he had already lowered himself to eat out of the food bowl, screw the water bowl. He'd rather drink out of the faucet). He was sitting down on the ground, and instead waited for Nik to finish eating, and saw that at leaset he had gotten up himself to put the dirty dishes into the sink. And then he left the room without saying anything. Ah.

So Nik expected him to do the dishes as well. Fine then. Christov stood up, and then walked over to the sink, washing and drying the dishes in a rather distracted manner. And the pain from his burned hand wasn't helping, either. The soap stung the burns and blisters, and made the blonde wince. Hopefully the other Nazi would stay away from him for the rest of. . . well, however long Nik expected him to stay here.

Right now, he just wanted to be left alone.

But, alas, that was not to be the case as Christov heard Nikolaus come back into the room, and told him to hurry up. Well, whatever, he was almost done anyway. The man finished drying the last dish, and put it away before turning around, and glancing at Nikolaus. Finally - a medical kid. His brow furrowed slightly; where the hell had that come from? And where the hell did he even keep it? "Alright," he said, and headed over to where Nikolaus was standing, holding out his hand, burned palm up.

"How long am I to stay here?" He asked. Was he to stay the night, or would he be allowed to go home after finishing whatever it was that Nikolaus needed done?
 
Nik was no doctor, but all soldiers had basic training in first aid. After all, the higher-ups didn't need their throwaway soldiers dying off on them because they didn't know how to properly clean and sew up a wound or something silly like that. He sat down at the table, pulling out several generic items for healing- ointment, tweezers, bandages... things along those lines. Gray eyes watched the blonde carefully as he made his way over.

The nazi chose to ignore Christov's question. After all, he had no obligation to respond to the guy at all. Christov should consider himself lucky that Nikolaus was taking the time and effort to heal up his wound before it got too bad. But no. He had to be an impatient, little fucker.

He used his left hand to hold the other's wrist down and used his right to pick up the tweezer and began to pull off the drying, dead skin that clung to his palm by a few sinews. It was obviously the more painful way of going about it, but it was a hell of a lot quicker than waiting for the skin to fall off on his own. Once all of the dead skin was removed, he pulled out a disinfectant wipe and cleaned up Christov's palm, taking extra care to make sure that every inch was steralized. For a man who seemed to hate Christov so much, he seemed to be very thorough in his work. After the hand was cleaned off, all that was left was putting some burn creame on it and bandaging. That took a lot less time than it did the first two tasks. Once the hand was bandaged all the way past the wrist bone, he tucked the end into itself before letting his gaze settle on the other's features.

"You can go home now," he said gruffly, giving a shrug of his shoulders. "You'll be working in my office and doing my work as well as your own, so I advise that you arrive early if you want to be done at a human time."
 
      • Christov flinched, slightly, as Nik started to peel the dead skin off of his hand. He gave a small sigh as he started to sterilize his hands, wiping down the surface. The cool liquid stung, slightly, but it was soothing at the same time. After Nik finally put some of the creame on his hand, and then bandaged it, he turned his back and forth, examining the work. The other man had done a very good job; what a surprise that was. He had half expected for him to do a half-ass job, just so he could suffer. But. . .He supposed not.

        "Thank you," he said finally, and gave a small nod. It still hurt to move his fingers, however, and he tried not to flex his fingers too much. After a few moments, he hesitated. "May I change back into my uniform before I leave?" He asked. He didn't want to walk home in a maids' outfit, even if he could pass himself off as a girl. Somewhat. Wearing a dress and garters and heels didn't bother him as much, anymore, even if it was only in a short span of time. It was only indoors, and he didn't have to go out in public like this. . .

        He gave a small sigh. So, he had to do his own normal duties as well as do Nik's paperwork. Man, what a drag that was. . .He'd probably have to get up at around five-ish in order to get to work, and he'd have to file paperwork to transfer into Nik's department. Do his work, then do the other man's. . .And then drive him home. Ah, well. At least he wasn't being forced to stay over night.

        [[Urk, sorry for not replying for awhile. Hope you still want to do this RP! D=]][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]
 
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