*She won’t really do this – she’s just trying to scare me – she wouldn’t really…*
But every step that Buffy led Spike, nearer and nearer to the Magic Box, made it harder and harder to convince himself that she would not really do what she had said she was going to do – would not really take his humiliation that far.
He tried to think of a way out of the situation he had found himself in – but nothing came to mind.
The only slight mercy afforded him, he thought ruefully, was the fact that it was nearly midnight – and in Sunnydale, that meant there were no people on the streets to witness his humiliation.
He was being led down the sidewalk at the end of a soddin’ *leash*, attached to a black leather collar she had placed around his neck – nearly naked, with only a scandalously tiny pair of tight leather shorts, and a black harness binding, but not really covering, his torso. His hands were bound behind his back in thick leather cuffs – and the magical drug she had given him in his blood earlier – ensuring his absolute obedience to her every command – was not even *beginning* to wear off!
No, he would be helplessly subject to her every command at least for the next few hours, if the effects of the first dose she had given him were any indication.
Of course, he had no way of knowing exactly how much she had given him the first time, since he had not actually seen her do it – but the effects had lasted at least a good three hours. The second time, Buffy had not even bothered to hide what she was doing, as she had casually emptied the packet of white, rapidly dissolving powder into his mug.
Really, Spike thought with a sinking heart as the Magic Box came into sight at the end of the block, he had no way of knowing whether or not he had hours, minutes, or days, before he would be free of her control. The amount he had watched her pour into his blood could have been a fraction of the original dose – or ten times as much…he had no idea.
And when it came right down to it, she could always do as she had done with this last dosage, and order him to drink more of the drugged blood before the effects of the current dose wore off.
If she wanted to, she could keep him under her power for – well – as long as she wanted to.
A slight tug on the collar around his neck drew his attention away from his spiraling thoughts, and he looked up to see her standing a few feet behind him, stopped on the sidewalk – looking up at the Magic Box sign.
A slow smirk spread across Spike’s face, as a sense of relief washed over him at her apparent hesitance.
“Changed your mind, did you, love?” he guessed with a smug note to his voice. “Not so sure about going in there and showing off your new hobby to all your friends, now it comes right down to it, are you?”
“Oh, I’m *completely* sure!” Buffy smirked right back at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m just trying to decide how I want to show you off – walking behind me on a leash…or *crawling* on it.”
Spike’s eyes widened in disbelief, aghast at what she was suggesting.
His reaction seemed to seal it for her. Her smile widened as she ordered softly, “On your knees.”
Immediately he obeyed without hesitation, though he cringed inwardly at the automatic subservience of his own actions. His eyes were downcast, as he watched her slender, shapely legs slowly pace toward him – unable to bring himself to look up into her eyes, not wanting her to see the mixture of embarrassment and arousal in his all-too-expressive gaze.
As she neared him, Spike caught the unmistakable scent of her own desire – and felt his already swollen member strain uncomfortably against the taut leather of the shorts that restrained it.
“Look at me.”
A soft but firm hand at his chin tilted his head up toward hers as she spoke, and he found himself forced to meet her gaze.
“God, Spike,” she murmured, a sort of stunned awe in her low, husky voice. “Do you have any idea what it does to me? Seeing you like this?”
The raw desire he heard in her voice drove Spike’s own arousal higher, as he replied in a soft, barely controlled voice, “S’pose I do, love.”
Buffy was quiet for a long moment, a slow smile of affectionate pleasure coming over her face.
“I think we’re both going to like this arrangement, Spike. You’ll see – as long as you can admit it to yourself – and as long as you please me.” Her voice hardened slightly, as she added with an air of command, “While we’re in public, you will not speak without my permission. You will obey my every command, and if I sit down, you will kneel at my feet – unless I tell you to do otherwise. Are we clear?”
Spike nodded, his jaw setting with a sullen acceptance, as he resigned himself to the fact that she was actually going to do this to him.
“Good,” she nodded her satisfaction, as she turned and led him the few remaining feet to the door. As the leash became taut, Spike stumbled forward on his knees, unable to keep up with her without his hands to help him balance.
“Buffy,” he gasped out. “Could you just…”
His words were cut off in a sharp gasp of fear, as her foot suddenly pressed against the front of his leather shorts, brought almost level with the ground by his near fall. She was not pressing hard enough to hurt him – just hard enough to remind him that she *could* be hurting him, badly, if she wanted to.
“What did you call me?” she asked him in a softly warning voice.
“Mistress!” he corrected hastily, his breath coming fast and shallow, his head dropping to the ground, his eyes closed, as he fought off a chill of panic. “Please – please, Mistress!”
Satisfied, Buffy withdrew the pressure she had been applying, as she asked softly, “What were you going to ask me?”
Spike could hardly remember at this point – but her sharply raised eyebrow seemed to quicken his memory, as he hurried to respond, “Please – Mistress – I could keep up with you better on my knees – if my hands were free.”
“Probably,” Buffy agreed with a smirk. “But – I love watching you struggle – so that’s just what you’ll have to do, isn’t it?”
Spike bit back an angry retort that he knew would only get him into more trouble, and simply did his best not to fall on his face again, as he followed her to the door. He noticed with some surprise, however, that she *did* slow her pace a bit, making it a little easier on him.
He looked up at her in surprise when she knocked on the door, instead of just walking in as she usually did.
She winked at him as she revealed her secret. “You’re lucky. I’ve decided to go easy on you to start with. The shop is closed; Giles is the only one still here.”
Spike did not know if that news should be a relief to him, or not.
He had no time to consider the question, before the door had opened, revealing a rather stunned Watcher, as Giles took in he almost incomprehensible sight that met his eyes.
“Hi, Giles,” the Slayer smiled brightly at her dumbfounded Watcher. “We need to talk.”
************************************
The hot flush of humiliation finally began to fade from Spike’s face, as Buffy and Giles sat at the research table, talking quietly.
He had had no choice but to follow Buffy on his knees, as she had stalked into the Magic Box, demanding answers to the questions she still held about the things she had read in the Watcher’s book – the stories about previous Slayers, and the vampire pets they had kept.
To his surprise, the sense of shame Spike felt had abated slightly when the Watcher had not even acknowledged him, barely looked his way in fact – directing his answers – and questions, too, for that matter – instead to the Slayer who held the end of his leash.
Once he understood what Buffy had done – Giles did not even seem the least bit perturbed by the sight of Spike in his slave’s costume.
At first, the vampire had felt a sense of indignant outrage, as they had both completely ignored him – except for a brief moment when Buffy had given him a rather severe look, and tapped her leg lightly in a silent command for him to assume the position she had instructed him to outside – on his knees at her feet, as she sat at the table.
But as Buffy had begun talking, he had soon found his attention drawn to her words, as she had explained to Giles how she had found his writings among the books on the upper level of the shop, and the questions those writings had brought to her mind.
The vague hope Spike had held that the Watcher might somehow talk her out of this insane charade, slowly faded away, as Giles amazingly seemed to accept Buffy’s explanations of what she was doing. In fact, from what Spike gathered, he seemed to actually be in an odd sort of resigned support of what she had done – as if it was something that was perfectly natural, and ultimately unavoidable.
As the conversation went on, with the Watcher describing in detail some of the cases he had studied, and the Slayer asking questions as they occurred to her, with rising interest – Buffy idly ran her fingers through Spike’s hair, gently twisting small sections free of the gel that trapped them, forming them back into their natural state of unruly curls as she wound them around her fingers without even realizing she was doing it.
The repetitive action seemed to relax her, because her voice softened, becoming quiet and even as she spoke at length with her Watcher – and the combination of her soothing tone, and her soft, hypnotic touches, slowly began to lull Spike into a sort of comfortable haze, with nothing to focus on but those two things, as the exhaustion of the previous two days began to finally catch up with him.
“So – your intention is to keep him under the influence of the drug – indefinitely?” Giles asked her in a voice of quiet interest.
With an effort, Spike pulled himself up out of the passive fog that he had been drifting into under the Slayer’s casual, gentle caress – forcing himself to forget for a moment how pleasant it was to finally be touched by her with gentleness and affection, and to remember that he was chained, on his knees, and here almost completely against his will.
*Almost?* he challenged his own thoughts indignantly. *Completely! Bloody well *completely* against my will, you stupid git! Now quit behaving like a bloody ponce and pay attention, and you may just find out what it is she’s planning – and how to get around it!*
“For as long as I have to,” Buffy replied to her Watcher’s question with a slow nod, tugging gently on Spike’s hair before resuming her soft, lulling strokes through it. “From now on – if I have to.”
“If you have to?” Giles prompted, curiosity and concern in his voice.
It was an audible echo of the question in Spike’s mind.
Buffy nodded, still not even sparing a glance for the vampire kneeling submissively at her side. “Well, honestly,” she confessed softly, “I really don’t think it’s going to be necessary for all that long. I think, with a little time, I should be able to -- *convince* Spike that this is what he really *wants*, deep down.”
Giles’ startled, disbelieving laugh drowned out the quiet growl that suddenly rose in Spike’s throat in contradiction of her words. “*Spike*? You think he would actually 8want* to be – well – to belong to you, Buffy?”
As Spike’s instinctive growl left his lips, he tried to pull away from her hand in his hair – but he had barely moved when she had already reacted, her hand closing firmly on his hair and holding his head in place, not allowing him to pull away.
Without even looking at him, or missing a beat at all, Buffy smiled at her Watcher as she replied, “You’d be surprised at what Spike really wants, Giles. He just needs a little help – figuring it out, sometimes…”
“I’m afraid I really don’t want to know how you’ve come to that conclusion,” the Watcher remarked dubiously.
As he spoke, he was completely unaware of Buffy’s actions under the edge of the table.
Spike, for his part, could be aware of nothing else at the moment.
Still holding his head firmly in place to prevent his escape, Buffy trailed one foot slowly from the floor, up across his knees and thighs, finally reaching the small, flimsy piece of leather between them. Spike bit back a moan, as her foot rubbed lightly across the front of his almost painfully tight leather shorts.
“Almost” painful quickly became excruciating.
“No,” Buffy said calmly, giving no visible indication to her Watcher of what was going on under the table. “No, you probably don’t. Just – trust me…” She increased the pressure she was applying slightly, driving the vampire’s helpless desire to a near fever pitch. “…I *know* how to handle Spike.”
He could not help squirming slightly under the relentless, unbearable stimulation she was administering – and Buffy’s hand in his hair suddenly became tighter, as she gave him a quiet but sharp reprimand, “Be still, Spike – stop wiggling.”
He had no choice but to obey, and forced himself to keep still, despite her continued touches – although he was beginning to wonder what the effect might be if the Slayer were to give him a command that was physically impossible for him, while he was under the influence of the obedience drug.
He had the feeling that he might very soon find out.
“Really, he’s so fidgety,” Buffy shook her head as she innocently explained away her command.
Giles, utterly clueless, nodded and smiled understandingly. “He always has been, hasn’t he? Well, just one of many annoying habits you might now be able to take in hand.”
As the overwhelming sensations in his lower regions began to consume Spike’s body, his resistance began to fall away, and Buffy’s restraining grip on his hair softened once more, as her long, graceful fingers returned to their slow, mesmerizing motions, sending tingling little trails of pleasure where they stroked along his scalp.
“Still, Buffy,” Giles cautioned her. “You should be very careful. Do not allow him freedom from the drug at all until there is absolutely no doubt in your mind as to your total control over him.”
“Don’t worry,” she assured him softly, as out of his sight, she dipped her foot down low to trace the underside of the ever-increasing bulge in Spike’s shorts, with a slow circular pressure that was, little by little, driving him out of his mind with need. “I’ll keep him completely under control.”
**********************************
“Don’t worry about the shop. I feel like training for a little while. I’ll lock up when I’m done.”
Spike might have caught the underlying truth behind the Slayer’s words – the fact that by this point, she was nearly as desperate as he was for connection between them – had he been capable of rational thought at all by this point.
She had continued her slow, torturous contact under the table, driving him to a frenzy that could not be satisfied – not until she decided to release him from the restraint of the black leather ring that bound his erection under his shorts. He had desperately wanted to pull away, to beg her to stop – to beg her to *never* stop – but he had been prevented from any of those things by the command she had issued earlier that evening.
When Buffy got up to walk her Watcher to the door and lock it behind him, gesturing for Spike to stay put while she did – it was all he could do not to whimper in protest at the loss of contact.
The click of the lock was impossibly loud in the stillness that filled the room in the Watcher’s absence. Buffy turned around, her hand still on the lock behind her, her back braced against the door for a moment as she looked the bound, kneeling vampire over with hungry eyes.
In an instant, she was across the room and upon him, one hand twisting the leash around it until it was taut, and her fist was pressed against the back of his head, as in the same swift motion she pulled him to his feet, her free hand reaching down between them to play teasingly across the front of his shorts, as her lips crashed down on his in a fiercely possessive, passionate kiss.
“Bu- Mistress,” Spike had the presence of mind to correct himself, as he moaned his pleasure and need against her mouth. “Mistress, please – need you…” As he spoke, his body thrust unconsciously upward toward her hand, in his desperate need for more than the light, torturous contact she was currently allowing.
And she was not yet ready to allow more.
The hand between them suddenly shifted to his hip, shoving him forcefully back against the table behind him and pinning him there, his head pulled back by the leash around her fist at the same time, so that his back was arched, his torso in a taut bow over the table.
Buffy stood just to the side of him, her expression calm, though her eyes were dark with lust, and her chest heaved, breathless with her own desire. Her voice was a low whisper, both warning and seductive, as she replied.
“*I’ll* decide what you need.”
Spike knew that there was only one response that would lead to both their satisfaction.
“Yes, Mistress,” he gasped out, his eyes closed as his body relented, submissive to her hands as she pulled him back up to his feet.
“Come here,” she instructed, her voice softer now, and enticing, her eyes glittering with sudden inspiration over a sly smile, as she led him with her toward the training room door.
The room was dark and silent – and the Slayer did not bother with lights, satisfied that the faint glow of the lights from the shop through the open doorway would be enough to suit her purposes.
Without a word, she turned him around to face her, as she pushed him firmly against the wall behind him, her free hand resting low on his hip, her fingertips edging just below the line of the shorts he wore, tracing idly back and forth as she met his eyes with an almost feral gleam in her gaze.
Spike winced slightly as she pressed in closer – both at the increased pressure of his bound wrists into the small of his back…and the increased pressure of his intense arousal against the binding leather that covered his manhood.
“Aww,” Buffy’s voice was mockingly sympathetic, as her intrusive fingertips stopped their path midway across his abdomen, her thumb pressing lightly over the base of his erection through the leather. “Got a problem, Spikey?”
He hesitated just a moment, before leaning his head back against the wall, closing his eyes, gasping for breath as he nodded eagerly.
“Want me to help you?” she purred enticingly, intensifying the pressure of her thumb as she sidled in even closer to him – her thighs against his as she pulled his head back slightly farther and began a light, teasing trail of kisses along his jawline.
Spike hoped that the question constituted permission to speak, as he gasped out, “Y-yes…please, Mistress…yes…”
“What do you want me to do for you, Spike?” Buffy asked him softly, lifting her head to meet his eyes again.
The smoldering desire in that gaze only served to increase his desperation – as did the sound of his own voice as he moaned out the words he knew she wanted to hear, “Please – let me come – please, Mistress…”
“Mmm,” she murmured, a low chuckle escaping her lips as she resumed the soft, tender kisses down his jaw, along the line of his throat. “Sounds good…I know *I* want to…” She looked up again, a wicked sparkle in her eyes as she unwound her hand from the leash, and lowered both her hands to rest at the top of the tight leather shorts. “Whether or not *you* get to – well – we’ll see…”
The sense of relief Spike felt as she unzipped the shorts and slid them down around his upper thighs was almost overwhelming, and he felt his body trembling with anticipation and need as she trailed her hands slowly back up his thighs, one of them lingering to trace up and down the length of his fully erect member, while the other went to brace at the back of his neck, as she pulled him in for another slow, lingering kiss.
But he knew that his relief was perhaps, premature.
A moment later, he became quite sure that it was, as she suddenly tore her lips from his, her eyes narrowing in an almost predatory way as she looked him up and down once – before turning him around forcefully so that his face was to the wall, pressing in behind him in a dominating, possessive manner as she trailed her hands up the backs of his thighs to the firm, pale flesh of his buttocks.
She lingered there a moment, squeezing and massaging lightly until she heard him stifle a little moan, and giggled softly in pleasure as she raised her hands to circle around his bound wrists firmly. He winced as the coarse leather was pressed against his tender wrists, aggravated by the continued bondage of the cuffs.
Leaning in close behind him, Buffy whispered softly in his ear, “If I give you the use of your hands – can you use them only as I tell you?”
Eager both for his hands to be free in general, and for them to be free to touch her, Spike nodded emphatically. “Yes…yes, please…”
“Good,” she murmured, and he felt the sudden slackness of his wrists as she unfastened the metal catch that bound the cuffs together behind his back, and then turned him around again to face her.
He met her eyes cautiously, uncertain as to what she wanted him to do, keeping his hands carefully at his sides as she trailed her fingertips lightly from his shoulders, down to trace the line of the leather cuffs on his wrists.
He saw a trace of what appeared to be genuine sympathy in her eyes, when he winced slightly at the contact. With a little quirk of her lips into a slight frown of displeasure, she took first one wrist, and then the other, and carefully unfastened the cuffs, allowing them to fall to the floor.
Suddenly, her eyes locked with his, as she raised his right wrist slowly between them, holding his gaze as she kissed it tenderly, almost apologetically, gently caressing the bruised flesh in a comforting gesture. Then, never breaking eye contact, she took his hand and placed it lightly on her hip, before repeating the same procedure on his other wrist, and placing it on her other hip.
Gently, her hands went to either side of his face, as she leaned in closer, only breaking eye contact when she had to, as she kissed him again – slowly, thoroughly, taking her time and cherishing the connection between them, as her hands moved to slowly trail down his sides, her thumbs moving slowly inward when she reached the line of his hips, eliciting a soft moan of need against her mouth.
“C’mere,” she murmured without breaking the kiss, turning them suddenly and guiding him a bit blindly toward the center of the room, where a work-out mat was still laid out on the floor.
Together, they dropped to the floor, and she pushed him backward so that she was over him, meeting his gaze with wide, almost startled emerald eyes, before her mouth descended on his once more.
Tentatively, Spike’s hands moved up and down the sides of her body, not quite daring to do as he longed to and to touch her more intimately – all too aware of the drug that was still coursing through his body, and the leather ring that still bound his cock – and the fact that those two things meant that she could still cut this encounter off and leave him wanting at any moment that she chose to do so.
“Take off my skirt,” she instructed him softly, against his lips, before they began moving downward toward his throat again
Eagerly Spike obeyed, sliding the garment down around her knees, where she promptly kicked it the rest of the way off – and he could not hold back a soft, choked cry of pleasure and desire as he felt the heat from her damp center hovering over his needy erection.
One of her hands slid down between them again, wrapping around his member and sliding up and down a few times as she smiled down at him lazily, her hand positioning him at her entrance – but not quite taking him in yet.
“You want me?” she asked softly, huskily.
“Yes!” he gasped. “I need you, Buffy!”
Either she did not catch his slip – or she chose to ignore it this once, her own eyes dark and hazy and hungry with desire, as her smile widened at his confession.
“I want you,” she whispered in return – not quite able to bring herself to speak the same words he had – whether or not she might have felt them. “You’re mine, Spike – only mine…aren’t you?”
Her tone was tender, affectionate, not demanding – and he could do nothing but respond in kind, although he had not been ordered to.
“Yours, Buffy,” he whispered, holding her gaze, his own eyes widening in surprise at how easily the words came – how right they sounded. “Only yours – always…”
Satisfied, the Slayer’s finger’s deftly unfastened the cock ring, flinging it aside as she plunged down onto his body, encasing him in her soft heat with a soft little cry to voice her own pleasure.
And in that moment -- the details didn't matter to either of them.
Spike knew, like he knew that he was a vampire, like he knew that sunlight would kill him -- like he knew that he loved her...that he *was* hers, as she said -- and always would be, regardless of any bonds or drug or any other measure she might feel the need to use to prove the point.
He was hers.
And he could only hope that someday, he could make her his, as well.
squawks
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!