Title: Ask For It

Author: Sarah Aless

Contact/Feedback: give_it_to_me_spikey@yahoo.co.uk OR join my group to feed me :D http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bloodydoit/ OR drop by my LJ http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bloodydoit/

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: B/S

Spoilers: Season 6 after Dead Things before As You Were (but not really cos I’m off in my own world now.

Disclaimer: Y'know I wish they were mine. Unfortunately it still hasn't happened. Joss and ME own them I'm just using them for my own smutty ends.

Distribution: mysticmuse.net, One Good Lay, StS, Fangsandfairytales & www.vampires-kiss.net. Anyone else.....Put it where you like ;-) but please tell me where it's going.


Summary: Buffy comes to play with Spike, but she’s not herself and Spike determines to find out what is wrong as only ‘Master Spike’ can.


WARNING: BDSM (lots of it). Also some people found my last fic harsher than the others in this series, I think this is harsher still – you have been warned.


Chapter 1



For once, she doesn’t burst into my crypt with the force of a small tropical storm. She slips between the door and the jamb, having opened it just enough to allow her form through. She doesn’t bang it shut behind her either. I don’t take my eyes from the T.V. screen as she moves towards me. She’s moving slowly and I briefly worry that she’s been hurt. We had a spat earlier and she refused to let me patrol with her, insisting that she didn’t need me for anything. I let her go. My momentary guilt at the thought she may have been hurt because we’re both as stubborn as each other, vanishes when she walks round in front of me.

She climbs on top of me, knees resting on the arms of my chair as she straddles me. Leaning forward she nips at my ear before whispering.

“I want to play. I know I pissed you off earlier. Don’t you want to teach me a lesson…..Master.”

My cock shoots up like a rocket when she grinds against me as she says that last word. Despite my groins predictable reaction I’m confused. I know she enjoys our dominance games but I usually instigate them. She never starts this game. Would be too much like admitting that she loves what I do to her, how I can make her feel. I’m sure she considers her screaming orgasms as being all the confirmation I need, or will ever get, of the enjoyment she finds in my arms.

Her hands are moving to my belt buckle now and I groan as she scratches down my chest. One hand cups my crotch as the other works on the buckle. I hiss and throw my head back against the chair. The buckle comes free and the same hand which liberated it begins to work on the top button of my fly. I’m about to start thrusting against it when she abruptly stops and climbs off me.

“Why did you stop?” I ask, shaking my head a little to try to get rid of at least a little of my lust induced haze.

“Because I said I wanted to play!” Jesus, I realise she’s almost wailing, her bottom lip sticking out in the mother of all pouts. “You’re not playing properly!” she continues. “You’ve never let me be this aggressive when we’re playing. Never. You should be punishing me already.” ‘Oh so that’s it is it?’ I think; she’s actually lowering herself to ask me for something! Well, well, ask and you shall receive pet.

“Maybe I let you continue because I was enjoying myself.” I say with a slight helping of derision. “Have you forgotten so soon that a sub shouldn’t question her Master’s motives? That all that need concern you is my pleasure? That I will stop you if and when I see fit?............Get on your knees.” I command, allowing a little edge to enter my voice with the order. She’s pouting again and the little bint doesn’t move!

“Well, maybe I don’t want to play anymore now. You keep changing the rules! You told me I’d be punished for being so forward, you told me so loads of times, now you just abandon the game so you can get off quickly.”

“Buffy, you instigated the game.” I sigh in irritation. “I am not going to repeat what I just said. If you want to stop playing, say the safe word. If you don’t, you better damn well get on your knees. Now!” She jumps as I bellow ‘now’ and I can’t help the grim smile that takes over my face. I can see that she’s still wavering, but the very fact that she had the audacity to demand punishment is holding me back from laying a hand on her. If she wants to play the sub she’ll damn well do it on my terms.

“Don’t test me Buffy. If you do, the punishment will not be the nice little spanking you seem to want. Get. On. Your. Knees.”

Her bottom lip trembles but she obeys this time. Despite her very recent impertinence she looks perfection itself as she lowers herself gracefully to the floor.

“You will be well and truly punished Buffy. You have been beyond insolent, but you will be made to wait until I see fit to do it. In the meantime….”

“Please, please Sir. Please punish me now. I’ve been so bad.”

My first instinct is to lash the skin off her back. The little chit actually just interrupted me in the middle of a speech. Realisation dawns on me that as far as this type of play goes I have trained her better than this. Something isn’t right here. She never asks for punishment unless I have her really riled up and make her beg for it before she can cum. There’s something else too. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Something is missing from this little tableau. I look down at her, trying to assess what’s making things feel slightly off kilter. She surprises me again by actually lifting her eyes to look at me, presumably because I haven’t answered her, or moved , or made a sound. For a second I fancy I see tears welling in her eyes. Then she blinks and swallows. Her tongue darts out to lick uselessly at dry lips.

“Please.” Is all she says. Her eyes imploring, more eloquently than her words. It’s apparently a night for surprises, because she does it again. Surprises me, by lowering her upper body so her head is in front of my feet, repeating like a whispered mantra, the word “please.”

“Buffy get back up on your knees.” I order. I’m determined to find out what’s going on here. This is not the Buffy I know. She obeys me, keeping her eyes down, swallowing hard when her bottom lip trembles again. That’s when it hits me. What’s missing is the scent of her arousal. Usually it comes off her in waves when she comes here with sex on her mind. There isn’t even a hint of it tonight.

“Buffy what’s wrong?” I ask squatting down in front of her. I lift her chin on my fingers but her eyes don’t meet mine. “Buffy,” I say, almost gently, “look at me. I know something is wrong. Please tell me what it is.”

Her eyes finally look into mine and she surprises me again by lunging forward and kissing me feverishly. She pushes me back to a sitting position on the stone floor, straddling me again. Her lips crash down on me and she forces her tongue into my mouth. Momentarily stunned, I return the kiss. She makes a whimpering sound, low in her throat and suddenly I feel wetness. It isn’t the arousal that was missing though; it’s a single, warm, salty tear, running from her cheek to mine.

In shock, I pull my head back to verify what I felt. She never cries in front of me. My unbeating, but far from unfeeling heart, sinks way below my stomach as I realise something is terribly wrong here. I grasp her face with both hands and hold off her attempts to resume the kiss. She won’t look at me. More tears are forming in her beautiful eyes again, and I know she’s fighting to keep them from falling as she struggles to free her head from my grip. I won’t let her; instead, I pull her in to rest her head on my chest. Stroking her hair, I shush her like a child. My heart swells with pain, I cannot stand to see her like this. That single tear, and the knowledge of the ones she’s holding back make my heart bleed as surely as if she’d put a stake right through it, and I’d rather be dust if I can’t make this better for her.

I should have known she wouldn’t let me comfort her, but I am still taken unawares when she swipes at her face with a shaking hand and a choking sound and rips herself free of my grasp. She punches me hard in the stomach and immediately leaps to her feet, heading for the door.

“This isn’t what I wanted.” She yells in accusation. “I didn’t come here for your pity. Didn’t come to cry on your shoulder like a big baby. All I wanted was a little ‘rough and tumble’ as you like to put it. I don’t need you going all ‘manly protector’ on me.”

“Buffy!” I’m not quite shouting, but there’s no way she can miss the barely contained rage in my voice. “You came here and instigated a round of our favourite game. I know you’re in a right old state about something but you WILL NOT walk out of that door. If you truly want to leave, you know what to say. If not…..”

She freezes as I leave the sentence hanging. I can practically taste her indecision.

“Well?” I say as she begins to turn to face me. “You want to say that one little word so that you can leave? Or are you ready to beg my forgiveness and tell me what the hell is wrong with you?”

She doesn’t say the safeword, although she knows this means we’re still playing. I’ve made it plain enough what her options are, and I have a feeling that, even if only subconsciously, this is how she wanted it to go. Her eyes are narrowed and she shows no trace of her former proximity to tears as she looks me dead in the eye and spits her words at me.

“Screw you.”

I’m on her in an instant, slamming her hard against the door, I secure both of her hands above her head in one of mine. My other hand grabs her chin, forcing her face to angle up to mine. In keeping with her current behaviour she won’t even succumb entirely to this, her eyes look anywhere but at me. I grip her chin; probably a little harder than necessary.

“Look at me!” I command.

She does look at me, but anger suffuses her features. It’s not the only emotion there though, I can read hurt, confusion and pain in her stormy green eyes.

“Screw. You.” She says, enunciating each word harshly.

“That’s not the safeword Buffy.” I shake my head at her bleakly. I have to make things clear to her here; despite the fact that I’m certain she knows exactly what she’s doing. We both need to be sure and clear. “Seeing as you haven’t opted out I assume you are accepting your place as my bitch. And you should know better than to speak to me like that. You seem determined to push me as far as you can. You won’t let me comfort you and you’re really asking for trouble. If that’s how you want to play it, that’s fine but you’d better believe I won’t show you any kindness or mercy if your behaviour persists. You want to push me into being angry? A bastard? Punishing you? You’ll get it in spades my love. This is your last chance to get out before I start.”

Her chin rises defiantly, again looking me dead in the eye, she opens her mouth to speak.

TBC.....Feedback would be great just to keep my muse going....please :P