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In this story Spike is Buffy’s stepfather and has raised her from childhood. They’re not related by blood but she’s only 17 and he’s in his late 30’s. Also, there are elements of non-con, bondage, sadomasochism, and other kinks in this fic. Please proceed with caution if any of those things are potentially offensive to you.
There is a little Buffy/Other in this story, but that part is over pretty fast and hopefully it’s painless.
I can’t really remember what it was like to have my mother in my life and sometimes I’m actually okay with that because my life turned out pretty good without her.
From what I’ve heard about Drusilla, the woman that popped me out into this cold, bright world, she was totally crazy. When I say crazy I mean crazy. Or as my Dad likes to call her: ‘bat shit, bug shagging bloody barmy.’ You can probably tell he used to be a poet, although not the best poet in the world.
Anyway, totally getting off topic there, which okay I do have a tendency to do. See, my Mom left when I was so young that to me it’s almost like she never even existed. I guess I’m the conclusive proof that she did exist, like the ‘I was here’ carvings on an old school desk.
I guess I’m her Buffy-shaped carving, left behind for posterity.
Although my mom wasn’t around I really shouldn’t complain though. You see, there was always someone here to take care of me and love me. Yes, my dad has always been here for me through the good and the bad, the sucky and the sad.
I can remember how he kissed my scraped knees when I fell off the swing-set back in 2nd grade and how he threatened to cut off Cordelia Chases’ pigtails when she told me I wasn’t invited to her 10th birthday party. I also remember how he hugged me tightly and told me everything would be okay when I got stood up by Scott Hope back in 8th. He told me back then that no ‘buggering ponce’ would ever be good enough for me. I didn’t need anyone else except for Daddy anyway.
I should probably tell you more about my dad. And by the way, no he’s not a saint even though I’m probably making him sound like one. Actually, most of the time he’s the guy who makes the saints weep and turn to Xanax.
His name is Spike Summers, or at least that’s what he calls himself. My Dad never talks about his past, like it’s some big secret. I used to wonder if he was running from the cops because I think we both know he’s way too pretty for prison. Spike is actually just pretty, period.
I’d love to say I inherited my wild good looks from him but we don’t share any blood at all. Of course that doesn’t matter because to me he’ll always be Daddy regardless of our bloodline.
See, it’s a funny story how I came to be his daughter. He was married to my mom for a couple of years when I was just an itty bitty Buffy. They met in a punk bar and had some kind of whirlwind romance. I guess he was a little wigged at first that he was suddenly insta-dad but he always treated me like I was his own kid when they were together. Then one day my mom left us. I don’t know why because Dad just won’t talk about that. I think it still hurts him sometimes. After Drusilla disappeared into the mists of time and space Spike was left holding the baby.
He always tells me that by the time he realized that Drusilla was never coming back, or had ‘buggered off for bloody good’ as Dad puts it, he was already too attached to me to let me go to some random stranger. He decided to keep me and so I became Buffy Anne Summers, daughter of Spike Summers.
And he’s always lived up to his paternal potential. He’s pretty much the greatest dad on the face of this earth. I don’t think I could have asked for anyone better to raise me than Spike, in spite of his occasionally questionable morals. It’s funny sometimes. See my dad has his own moral code that he apparently bases on Sex Pistol’s song lyrics.
Yeah…don’t even ask.
The only bad thing about my dad is that sometimes he expects way too much from me. He expects me to be some kind of rocket scientist or something. The only rocket I can handle is the pocket variety and I’m a goddamn expert at making those shoot off now.
What can I say? I go to public school…I’m gonna learn that stuff.
Actually playing with my boyfriend’s pocket rocket is what got me into this mess in the first place.
See, a few months ago Angel O’Donnell asked me out on a date. Angel is the coolest guy in the whole of Sunnydale High. Not to mention he’s a senior and I’m only a junior. So I guess I was totally flattered. Okay so it helped that my nemesis, the uber-bitch Harmony Kendall, has been crunching on him forever.
It felt good to see the devastated look on her face when she heard about her date.
What? I never said I’m a saint, okay? Don’t look at me like that!
So anyways, Angel and me went out on a few dates and it wasn’t long before he wanted me to put out. I’m not usually easy-girl when it comes to letting boys take a trip to my happy valley but you really need to remember that Angel is the most popular boy in school. There was no way I was going to turn him down and risk spending the rest of my high school career at the bottom of the proverbial social dog pile.
So…I did it.
Yeah, I probably should have been strong and gone all independent woman on his ass but what can I tell you? I was weak. So I caved and let him take my innocence. After that we turned into kind of a thing…me and Angel…the First Couple of Sunnydale High.
Only there was one teeny glitch. Actually it was a pretty damn serious problem. My dad didn’t know about us. I knew that he’d probably freak out considering there’s a ban on me dating…until I’m 50. Of course it was just my luck that he’d find out about us in the most inappropriate of ways. You can probably guess he wasn’t exactly happy about it. In fact he wigged and it was wiggage of the major kind.
Although I can’t say I would ever have predicted the eventual outcome of that situation.
Well you’re just going to have to see for yourself how…explosive it turned out to be.
The house on Revello Drive was silent aside from the sloppy sounds of smacking lips. Buffy lay prone beneath the hugely bulky form of her boyfriend as he ground his body into her.
He clumsily worked open the buttons of her shirt, palming one of her small breasts in his hand, squeezing it like it was a dog’s chew toy. Buffy grimaced as a shard of pain shot through her delicate appendage.
When she felt Angel’s hands start to work lower, she pulled away from his sucking lips and wiped his spittle from around her mouth.
“No,” Buffy whispered, pushing gently against Angel’s chest. “We shouldn’t do this right now. My dad’s gonna be home soon.”
Angel just laughed and pressed her back to the soft mattress beneath her. “Come on, baby,” he cooed. “I’m horny. I need me some Buffy lovin’.”
“Angel, no! Dad’ll be home anytime soon and I don’t want him to find out.”
“Too late for that.”
Two pairs of eyes whipped around at the sound of the furious British voice to see Buffy’s surrogate father, Spike, standing in the doorway. Buffy felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room and barely managed to muster the power to wriggle out from underneath Angel’s muscular body.
“Daddy!” exclaimed Buffy, jumping to her feet and pulling her shirt over her half exposed breasts. “We were just…”
“I can see what you were doing,” Spike interrupted, a dark glower fixed on his face.
A glimmer of guilt flickered through Buffy’s heart as she looked into his eyes. He was simmering with a mixture of disappointment, devastation and something else that she couldn’t quite identify.
Something that could have been…jealousy?
There was a palpable tension flowing through the room, ebbing and flowing like the heartbeat that Buffy could feel pounding through her brain.
“Daddy, please…” Buffy tried again, but Spike waved a hand dismissively. Her mouth snapped shut as she realized this wasn’t the time to piss him off. Buffy knew just how dangerously volatile a pissed off Spike could be.
However, Spike’s attention wasn’t focused on her right now. He’d turned his angry scowl toward Angel and the younger man actually looked a little scared, which was a rather strange sight.
In height and build Angel towered over the older man. He was a football player and it showed. But in terms of scariness, Spike trumped the boy without a problem. Clad in leather, Spike epitomized the original punk philosophy. His slicked back platinum blond hair, black nail polish and silver chains just added to the bad-boy mystique that surrounded him. Even though he was in his late thirties, time hadn’t lessened the punch of his imposing presence.
Buffy had always figured that his looks and attitude were what attracted her mother, Drusilla, to the guy in the first place. Somehow she couldn’t imagine Drusilla having cared about the gentle, sweet man that often peeked out of the tough outer shell. Not that Spike showed the inner man around many people, Buffy supposed. In some ways she was glad about that because it felt like she owned a little secret piece of the man she called Dad.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing with my little girl, you bleeding wanker?” Spike yelled, backing Angel up against the wall. Fury was radiating from every pore of Spike’s body and although she knew it was wrong, Buffy felt a frisson of arousal as she watched the two men.
“Hey, I didn’t do anything wrong,” Angel defended, cowering against the wall. “Buffy’s my girlfriend.”
“Was your girlfriend, mate. She’s not your girlfriend anymore,” Spike informed him warningly.
“Buffy thinks she’s still mine, don’t you Buff?” Angel turned to the blonde girl smugly. He was assured that the blonde would ratify his claim.
Her green eyes darted between the two men as she considered her impossible situation. Although she liked Angel, Spike was the man she loved most in the world.
He’d been her rock for so long and if she had to choose between them, there could only ever be one winner. Maybe it was social suicide to deny Angel but she just couldn’t go against Spike.
And as much as she loved the social status that being with Angel gave her, there was no way she was going to defy her furious father. The look of pure anger on Spike’s face chilled her to the bone.
“I…um…I’m sorry Angel,” she murmured, keeping her eyes downcast. Her mouth felt parched as she choked out the words. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
Angel’s confidence faltered at Buffy’s words. “What?” His face contorted with irritation. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You heard her, you git,” Spike said coldly. “She’s done with you. Now get your oversized arse out of my house before I break every bloody bone in your body.”
“You can’t make me,” chuckled Angel, his mask of arrogant confidence pulled firmly back in place. He was the quarterback for the Sunnydale Razorbacks and no 80s punk reject was going to push him around.
“Wanna bet, mate?”
With strength that belied his size, Spike drew back a heavy fist and slammed it into the teenager’s smug face. Angel went flying into the wall and plaster dust showered down on his perfectly gelled hair as he slid down to the ground. The rings adorning Spike’s fingers were as effective as knuckledusters in exacerbating the damage to Angel’s face.
The younger man cried out in pain and clapped two meaty hands to his nose, trying to stem the blood that was gushing from his damaged snout. Spike loomed over him, blue eyes flashing with rage. He cracked his knuckles menacingly, indicating that he was only just beginning his punishment.
Buffy stood frozen in place as she watched the events unfold. For a moment she thought that Angel might get up and throw a punch at the older man, but instead he scrambled to his feet, let out a cowardly little ‘eep’, and fled out of the room, down the stairs and out into the afternoon sun. He ran away as fast as his shaky legs could carry him, wanting to put as much distance as physically possible between himself and Buffy’s maniacal father.
Buffy watched him dispassionately through the window. Hmm, she thought she might have been more upset to see Angel walk out of her life, but it didn’t hurt. Actually it didn’t even sting.
Guess it wasn’t love then.
Now that they were alone, Buffy and her father stood in damnable silence. Spike gritted his teeth and clenched his fists tightly, fully turning his attention to Buffy for the first time. The tension beat a flagrant tune in the air, like a living entity sucking them both into it. For one horrible moment Buffy feared he might strike her as his hand surged forward but he decided to punish the wall instead. It was a surface for him to pummel. He was heedless of the pain as he struck the wall.
However Buffy wasn’t getting off that easily.
“What the bloody hell were you thinking?” he seethed, his face flushing a deep crimson red.
“I wasn’t thinking,” she retorted, trying to mask her guilt and pain with sass.
“Too bloody right you weren’t. How could you let that bloody great oaf shag you, pet?”
“We weren’t… shagging.” Her denial burned hotly in her chest. She knew that if Spike had come in ten minutes later then that was exactly what the pair of teens would have been doing.
“But you have,” Spike sighed sadly, his shoulders slumping. He slid down onto the bed and buried his face in his hands, unable to look at the girl who he’d always thought of as a daughter. “You let that raving buffoon touch the special parts of you that no man should ever have access to.”
“Yes,” she admitted ashamedly, joining Spike on the bed. She knew she shouldn’t feel embarrassed about having sex with a boy but there was a slight shimmer of regret in her voice.
“Why, love? Why choose a wanker like that?”
Buffy shrugged. “He seemed like a nice guy, I guess. And he wanted me.”
“Every man wants you,” he told her, a peculiar look floating behind his eyes. He clenched his fists tightly. “You shouldn’t bloody well let any of them have you.”
“I’m seventeen, Daddy. I have needs and I can’t deny those needs. I’m not a child anymore.”
Spike raised his head to look at his daughter. His crystal blue eyes raked over her womanly form and he wondered just when she’d turned from the tomboyish little girl with scabby knees into this beautiful vision of young womanhood. Her metamorphosis had seemingly happened right in front of his eyes but without him ever realizing.
Buffy was a beautiful young woman now. Her long honey blonde hair hung over her slender shoulders in cascading waves, like beams of pure sunlight. Her skin was deeply tanned from the California sun. She wore a tight black skirt and bubblegum pink shirt which only served to emphasize the slim curves of her breasts and hips. As he studied her he was able to see this young girl through eyes other than the fatherly ones through which he’d always viewed her.
In fact, these eyes were anything but fatherly right now.
However, as quickly as that thought lodged in his brain he pushed it aside. Not only was Buffy his daughter, but he was more than 20 years older than her. He was pushing forty and she wasn’t even old enough to vote yet.
Not even old enough to vote and yet she was letting fumbling boys touch her most intimate girly places. It grated on his very last nerve.
“You’re still my daughter!” he told her sternly, desperate to erase the taboo thoughts that had invaded his brain.
Buffy didn’t often lose her temper with Spike but she was getting mad now. She didn’t like having what she could and couldn’t do dictated to her. However, it was his stern stare that finally snapped the final threads of her temper.
“God, would you get over it already? I’ve had sex, big deal.”
“Big deal?” he repeated disbelievingly. “It’s a bloody huge deal, pet.”
“It’s a ‘none of your damn business’ deal, Dad.” Although they didn’t share a blood link, Buffy had definitely inherited Spike’s propensity for losing his temper. “If I wanna fuck my way through half of Sunnydale, then you know I’m pretty much gonna do it.” Buffy’s surly voice was that of a pouting teenager but it grated on Spike. She wasn’t sure why she was provoking him but it was like she just couldn’t stop herself.
“Bollocks! You won’t do that while there’s still a breath in my body,” he assured her through gritted teeth.
“You’re not my lord and master, you know,” Buffy huffed and turned away from him.
Anger surged up once again in his veins. He knew he’d always been soft on the girl to compensate for her lacking a maternal figure. Clearly that was why she thought she could get away with things like this. What she needed right now was to learn that she couldn’t just get away with this crap.
For every action there would be consequences.
Spike had always been a capricious man but when his temper took a hold of him it was like he could focus on nothing else but the fury in his blood. Before his rational mind could kick in Spike lunged forward and grabbed Buffy around the waist, yanking her to him. As he looked at her kiss swollen lips and heaving chest, all he could see was the image of Angel on top of his girl. It was emblazoned onto his mind, burning away the last fraying strands of his temper. Buffy flailed in his grasp, yelling at him to let her go but he was relentless and he forced her down over his lap.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked, fear starting to lick at her senses. Spike had never treated her this way before and it was more than unnerving.
It was terrifying.
“I should have disciplined you when you were younger, Buffy,” he said coolly. His voice sounded so detached that it made her shiver, and not in a good way.
“Discipline?” Buffy asked shakily, struggling as he pinned her firmly over his lap, her round little ass wiggling in his face. “W-what are you talking about, Daddy?”
“I let you get away with anything and bloody everything.” He hitched her skirt up over her hips exposing her toned, shapely butt to his gaze. Her panty clad bottom looked so enticing to his eyes, so ripe for a spanking. “But now that’s going to change. It’s never too late to teach you a good lesson.”
When the last word was barely out of his mouth, his brought his flat open palm sharply down on Buffy’s left ass cheek. The contact was a shock to her system, like having a bucket of cold water tipped over her head. She gasped and bucked under the slap, resuming her struggles to wriggle out of his iron gasp. Pained tears threatened to spill from her eyes.
“Daddy?” Buffy gasped, not fully comprehending what was happening. Her father never spanked her before even when she was being an unbearable little terror. She was actually scared that he might have totally lost his mind.
“This is for your own good, pet,” he assured her, bringing his palm firmly down on her panty covered ass once again. “You’ll see.”
His hand started to speed up, the slaps becoming harder and faster, eliciting pained gasps from the seventeen year old blonde.
“No!” she cried, screaming hoarsely. “Put me down! Stop it”
Spike ignored her and continued merrily spanking the girl. Beads of sweat broke out on his furrowed brow from the exertion but he didn’t let up.
As if she was just realizing that this was a punishment, her tone changed from commanding to begging. “Please Daddy! Please stop! I’m sorry for what I did just…ouch…please!”
His hand was a blur as it leathered the smooth curve of her buttocks, turning the creamy skin a deep shade of red. The blush of her ass was starting to mesmerize him and he wasn’t sure that he could stop now, even if he wanted to.
Something was also changing within Buffy too as the spanking continued. At first it had been painfully humiliating. Not to mention painful. But the longer it continued the more something started to twist and spark inside of her. Butterflies filled her tummy, fluttering wildly inside her every time he connected with her prone skin. She’d never imagined that pain could feel so pleasurable.
“You need to learn that those sods out there aren’t good enough to lick the bloody ground you walk on,” he hissed, his hand beating a steady rhythm on her sore butt. He couldn’t even hear her cries to stop anymore. Maybe that was because they were actually sounding more like moans.
And that was when he realized that’s exactly what they were.
Her yelps of pain had turned into whinnies of pleasure. His eyes widened as it occurred to him that his teenage daughter was writhing wantonly on his lap, her ass begging for more attention. Spike paused, absently running tender fingers over her bruised bottom. After the pain of the spanking, the feeling of his calloused yet soft fingers tracing her swollen ass was incomprehensibly delicious.
He couldn’t fathom what had gotten into him. There was no way he should be doing this. But seeing her presented to him moaning in pleasure because he was spanking her was too much for his questionable morality. It overwhelmed the flimsy moral compass he carried with him, shattering it and leaving only his own carnal desires in its place.
“Do you like that?” he asked hoarsely, pinching her glutes. Spike could barely recognize his own voice. It had never sounded so deep and husky before.
She knew that she should tell him ‘no.’ It would be so much safer to lie and tell him she hated it. But her voice betrayed her and she hissed her assent. “It feels…good,” she whispered, as if she might break whatever spell was weaving around them if she raised her voice.
“You have such a lovely little arse,” he said, squeezing the plump flesh of one of her cheeks. Spike smiled at her resulting squeal.
Unable to resist her charms he ran his fingers under the edge of the little scrap of lace which passed for a pair of panties. He heard Buffy’s breathing hitch in her chest and then speed up. Despite the fact that he knew logically that this was wrong her shallow panting encouraged him to go further.
Pulling the crotch of her panties to the side, Spike unveiled her bare slit to his hazy eyes for the first time. Apparently his girl had enjoyed her little punishment so far, judging by the juicy sheen coating her shaved lips. They were so swollen and puffy with arousal that he had to take a deep, calming breath to keep from coming in his pants like a virginal teenager.
Spike’s erection was so stiff inside of his jeans that all he longed to do was release it and have her lips, or her pussy, clamped tightly around it. However, he was determined not to let his impatience get the better of him this time. He wanted to enjoy this moment, take his time with it. After all, there was no telling if he’d ever get this chance again.
Still spread across his lap, Buffy seemed to be even more impatient that he was. She was wriggling tirelessly, clearly wanting some attention. A part of Spike warned him that this was wrong and that they would both regret it after it was over, but the blond didn’t care to listen to his annoying inner voice. Because this didn’t feel wrong. Not wrong at all.
Urging her legs further apart, his adventurous fingers worked closer to her concealed little honey pot, eager to dip inside. When she felt the tip of his finger slide into her hole Buffy shrieked with a mixture of shock and fear. Until that moment she’d stayed silent, not wanting to shatter the spell but now she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
“Daddy?” she asked. “What are you doing? You’re touching me and I thought you were mad at me and oh my God, what is this?” She couldn’t seem to stem the babbling flow but instead of angering Spike it actually managed to melt some of the fury he’d felt before. She was just too cute to stay mad at for long.
“I can’t help it,” he told her honestly. “I have to touch you. I need to touch you. It’s like there’s something that I can’t bloody well control and it wants you love.”
“Wants me for what?” she inquired cautiously. Buffy wasn’t a naïve kind of girl, but she wanted to be entirely clear here. Her father was suggesting something she’d never imagined would even cross his mind.
“It’s like there’s a beast deep within me and the beast wants to shag your pretty little brains out.”
Buffy craned her head so she could look at him. His eyes were screwed shut and there was a torn expression on his face, as if he was struggling with his emotions. She was struggling too but she was a horny teenage girl jam-packed with adolescent hormones and right now she didn’t want him to ever stop touching her. He was setting her skin alight with his soft caresses and she truly believed she might perish without his attentions.
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