Chapter 13
~*~*~*~*~
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
Edgar Allen Poe
The Raven
~*~*~*~*~
Angel
came back to consciousness, the pain from his bound wrists finally hitting his
dulled senses. He felt the pull in
his shoulders, his toes barely brushing the floor as he hung suspended by a
chain bolted to the ceiling. His
eyes fluttered open, desperately trying to focus through the blood loss and
agony. He glanced down at his pale
body, noting the healing bite marks that peppered his skin with crimson curves.
Buffy bite marks. On his
skin. Despite himself he found the
thought of her sharp fangs piercing his flesh very arousing.
The soul rocked at the thought.
As
his vision cleared he fixed his gaze, unwillingly, on the expanse of milky flesh
that lay tangled and writhing on the bed in front of him.
Peroxide blonde curls met honey tresses, fangs grazing flesh to bloody
welts, the keening and moaning in harmony testament to the pleasure they were
giving one to the other. Angel was
transfixed by the sight, unable to tear his eyes away.
He watched Buffy flip Spike onto his back, her thighs keeping him captive
as she nipped at his neck. Spike
turned his head towards his bound grandsire.
“Hey,
kitten…we’ve got an audience…”
Buffy’s
yellow eyes swept across the space between the bed and the shackles.
She laughed, running her tongue around her mouth and licking at her
fangs.
“We’d
better give him a show then…”
Buffy’s
body was silhouetted against the wall, the flickering shadows from candles
bathing her in half-light as she raised her pelvis in order to sink down on
Spike’s hardened shaft, slowly drawing him into her slickness.
She moaned as her groin connected with his, grinding down on him to feel
the pressure on her clitoris. Throwing
back her head she reached down to circle his cock with her fingers, feeling him
disappear inside her as she slid up and down on his length.
Her fingers wet with their joint secretions she brought them up to his
mouth, pressing her hips forwards to rub against him as he sucked and licked at
the tips. She growled, the demon
wanting blood and violence. Her clit
ached to be touched so she brought the hand down again to pinch and squeeze the
engorged flesh as she rocked her hips. Slyly,
she stole a look at her first love. His
pain was clear to see; his suffering, an aphrodisiac.
Spike
adored this creature, his golden one. The
abandonment of her innocence had been total and unexpected, the zeal with which
she embraced life as a vampire intoxicating in its intensity.
And now she was taunting Angel…the creature she’d sworn to love for
all eternity was presently hanging his head to escape the painful images played
out in front of him. Angel’s agony
was flowing off him in waves, each thrust of Buffy’s hips causing an
involuntary flinch from the bound vampire. Spike
grinned, a slow, lazy grin, as he enjoyed the feeling of superiority this gave
him.
Then
all thought of one-upmanship was gone as Buffy’s body slumped forwards, her
hardened nipples raking against his chest as she pounded him into the bed.
Her nails gouged flesh as she grabbed his wrists above his head, her
fangs grazing his shoulders, his neck, as she lost control.
Spike bucked his hips up to meet her thrusts in a fruitless effort to
control the pace. Buffy was in
charge, her hunger for him heading straight to his cock and hardening it still
further. He dipped his head to
suckle a nipple, biting down to draw her blood into his hungry mouth.
Buffy’s gasp showed her pleasure, the bouncing of her hips increasing
to a frenetic pace. Unable to
control herself, she sank her fangs into her Sire’s neck, risking his fury as
she took his blood without permission.
The
climax rushed them both, their screams of ecstasy counterpoint to the backdrop
of Angel’s sobs.
Resplendent in afterglow as she lay draped across
her Spike, Buffy fixed her gaze on Angel’s slumped and pale body.
His chest was covered with her bite marks, although they were fading
fast. The contrast between the pale
flesh and the angry welts was ethereally beautiful to her vampire eyes.
He needed more marks…
Throwing
her leg over Spike’s dozing form, she crawled on hands and knees to stop
before Angel’s feet, leaning back to sit on her heels.
She looked up, her calculating eyes noting the defined muscle of his
thighs, the breadth of his chest, his shoulders.
Moving further up, she hissed as she caught his eyes.
The look was one of disgust, no longer one of adoration.
His loss.
“Pet,
what you doin’?”
“I
want to play. Can we play now?”
Spike
raised himself from the bed, his hair ruffled from the pillow and Buffy’s
fingers. She was looking back over
her shoulder at him, her face shadowed from the candlelight, her hair spilling
down her naked back. The round swell
of her ass begged to be caressed as it rested on her heels.
He reached for a cigarette and his Zippo, lighting up and dragging deeply
on it as he smirked.
“Go
to it…I’ll watch….”
Buffy
smiled, her yellow eyes blazing with pleasure as she anticipated the fun to
come. She rose to her feet, sweeping
her hand across Angel’s bare chest and drawing a shiver from him.
He spat at her between clenched teeth, “You are not
my Buffy…she’s gone….”
Spike’s
snarl dragged his attention to the bed.
“Too
bloody right she’s not your Buffy, you poof!
She’s mine, for always, so bloody well get used to it.”
Angel’s
howl of pain ricocheted off the walls, his body spasming to get away from the
pain in his back. Buffy twisted the
knife embedded into his flesh, watching the blood flow down to disappear into
the dark fabric of his trousers. She
coated her index finger in the red fluid and sucked it into her mouth.
The taste was different than Spike’s blood, but still familiar.
The blood of Aurelius; her line, her heritage.
Spike
swaggered to stand in front of his bound Grandsire.
Uncorking a bottle, he poured it down the front of his elder’s bare
chest and laughed maniacally, even delighting perversely in his own pain as the
holy water splashed his skin.
Buffy
backed off, leaving the knife jutting from Angel’s spine.
Angel heard the sound of clinking behind him as she rifled through
Drusilla’s trunk. The dark haired
vampiress had left behind her a legacy of pain and torture, it was only fitting
that the instruments Drusilla had lovingly collected and used in highly
inventive ways should be the means by which her Sire and killer would be
introduced to unimaginable agony.
Buffy
deftly wrapped a length of spiked chain around Angel’s neck, pulling hard to
yank his head back and expose his throat. It
wouldn’t kill him of course but it would hurt like hell.
The spikes in the links dug into his flesh leaving crimson rivulets
running down his chest and back. The
smell of the blood was overwhelming to all three vampires, Buffy involuntarily
licking her lips and ducking to taste. Spike,
for his part, was struggling with the temptation to do the same.
The only thing stopping him was the thought of his bloody Grandsire
getting a kick from the feel of his tongue on his skin.
No, the wanker wasn’t getting any pleasure from him.
Angel
raised his eyes to look at this Childe of his line.
Despite the pain, the agony, and the blood loss that threatened to rob
him of his consciousness – he was proud of Spike, proud of Buffy in a twisted
kind of way. Vampires weren’t
meant to be gentle creatures and Spike and Buffy as a combined entity were among
the most vicious he’d known. They
were doing their Aurelius heritage proud. Not
that they needed to know that. He
steeled himself against the pain, licking his dry lips with a rasping tongue as
he struggled to form words.
Spike
smirked at the emotions playing across his elder’s face.
“Something
wrong, Peaches? You got somethin’
to say?”
Angel
gathered his remaining strength and spat through gritted teeth, “Just fucking
finish it, Spike. I don’t want to
be in a world that has you in it…you arrogant, smug, useless excuse for a
demon. And if Buffy has you to
mentor her - well, she’ll be dust come weekend.”
Buffy’s
snarl drew the two males’ attention, her yellow eyes cold and vicious, her
brow ridged and fangs sharp and prominent. She
hissed, the anger she was feeling causing her some difficulty as she tried to
rein in the demon inside. Her Sire
was in a pissing match with her Great-Grandsire.
The conflicting emotions were not sitting well with her newly demonic
self and she was struggling to stay in control.
Spike’s
answering growl just upped the ante so far as Buffy was concerned.
It connected on an entirely fundamental and ancient level with the heat
between her legs causing a fresh flush of juices to run down her thighs.
Her reactions now were pure instinct, her Slayer self entirely subdued by
the combined weight of her lust, her desire to please her Sire, and her yearning
to rip and rend.
Vampire
speed aided her as she wrenched Angel’s neck to one side, intent on draining
him of his Aurelius blood so that she could offer it to her maker as a gift.
Standing behind him, her sharp fangs sank with brutal accuracy into his
carotid artery, her tongue lapping the blood into her suckling mouth without any
waste. Angel’s skin turned almost
blue as she drew great gulps of his blood, his vision clouding as he hurtled
towards the oblivion of sleep. But
as Spike moved forwards to bite down roughly on the other side of Angel’s neck
whilst simultaneously snaking his hand into Buffy’s hair to draw her close,
the older vampire gasped as a light shot out of his eyes and excruciating pain
rocketed through his bones, his sinews, his soul…
Angel
closed his eyes against the agony; it was Angelus who next looked through them.
Spike
and Buffy stopped suckling at their ancestor’s neck as the power of the
borrowed blood rushed through them. It
was familiar, like the kiss of a lover, the reflection of the id; it made them
feel whole, alive. Spike noted the
drips of Angel’s blood rimming Buffy’s lips and he moved to clean her.
She did the same for him, the lap of tongue on flesh quickly turning into
a burning and bruising kiss. Angel
was forgotten as the two fell to the floor at his feet.
Buffy threw Spike onto his back taking his engorged cock in her fist
before grasping it between her cool and bruised lips and sucking hard.
She nipped up and down his length, his groans calling forth a gush of
fluid between her legs. As she
continued to lick at him, biting as she mapped every inch of him with her mouth,
she reached down to plunge frenzied fingers inside her grasping pussy, needing
some friction to ease the ache building inside her.
Angel’s
head was slumped forwards, his arms splayed out to the sides by the chains that
held him captive. The pain was
excruciating both externally and internally.
He drifted in and out of consciousness, his eyes lighting on the entwined
forms of Buffy and Spike on the floor in front of him.
Except
now the sight didn’t disgust him…now he wanted to be a part of the play.
His cock threatened to burst the button off his fly as it swelled in
response to the smell and sight of the fucking.
That one perfect moment of happiness clause; seemed like his soul had
gotten a happy from being the meat in the vampire sandwich – must be the Buffy
bite that did it. Or maybe Spike,
maybe them both? Spike hadn’t
bitten him since he got the soul, but it sure used to feel good before.
Whatever. It didn’t matter.
He was back.
Buffy
was riding Spike, her ass bouncing up and down as she slid up almost entirely
off his cock before sinking down to bury his length deep within her. Her
fangs were glinting white as she growled her pleasure, her fingers digging into
the soft flesh of her breasts as she sought more sensations, more pain, to
heighten her enjoyment. Spike’s
nails raked channels down her back before gripping her hips to control his
thrusts. The slow trail of blood
droplets that cascaded down to run over their joined bodies were almost
Angel’s undoing as he watched, fascinated, at the violence and ecstasy he saw
in front of him. He’d never seen
its like, even at the height of his excesses.
The two creatures were so alike, equals in strength and hunger that it
was beautiful to witness.
Spike
and Buffy were oblivious to the change they’d wrought, wrapped up entirely in
their own hedonistic pleasures. The
twin roars of orgasmic ecstasy echoed throughout the factory; Angelus smirked.
It was about time he got himself some of that.
Gone was the slumped form, the defeated stance of the beaten and souled
vampire hero. In its place was the
proud and vicious swagger of the master vampire who was legendary for his
cruelty. Maybe he wouldn’t let
them know he was back just yet…opportunities for undercover mayhem abounded.
It
mattered not. Buffy and Spike
didn’t even look back to him as they rose on shaking legs to clothe themselves
and go feed. Spike threw a comment
over his departing shoulder.
“Hope
you enjoyed the show, Peaches. You’ll
be seeing it every day for the rest of your sorry existence.
Pity you can’t get a boner, huh?”
Laughter
floated back to him as Angelus stood up straight and tested the chains.
They would hold; Spike always knew how to bind somebody real good.
He’d need help to escape.
And
when he did, his wayward descendants would crave the oblivion of death.
~*~*~*~*~
Angelus
smiled as he felt his newest toy enter the room.
He could sense the hesitation, Xander’s untrained vampiric abilities
noting the subtle change in his sire’s essence but unsure what was different
and why. Time to teach the pup
exactly what it was to be a vampire.
“Harris.
Come round to the front, let me see you, boy.”
Hesitantly,
the fledgling did just that, his demon to the fore as he struggled to constrain
the change between his alter egos. There
was something so intoxicating about the vibes his Sire was throwing off that was
messing with his control. Xander
risked a momentary peek from beneath closed lids.
What he saw caused him to growl.
Angel’s
bare torso was purpled with bite marks and lines of scratches.
Dry blood bathed the pale skin and stood out starkly in the candlelight.
Xander was enraged that his Sire had been tortured, but at the same time
found the evidence of agony arousing. Tentatively,
he reached out a hand to stroke the muscular chest in front of him.
The answering growl stilled him mid-movement.
“Childe.
You must release me from these chains.
Free me, and I’ll take you away from here.
You need your Sire.”
“
But…Spike…Sire…he’ll go nuts…”
“I’ll
deal with Spike. The chains.
Now!” Angelus roared.
Xander was cowering in front of him, the pull of his maker’s request
warring with his fear of Spike’s retribution if he was found out.
Eventually
the call of blood won out, and he scurried off to retrieve the keys to unlock
the manacles. Moments later, the
young vampire was pinned to the floor by an enraged Angelus.
“Now,
boy…do tell me why you chose to aid that posturing bastard?
Let me show you how you atone to ME.”
Angelus
sank his fangs into the tender neck, tearing roughly to maximize the pain.
This was about control – showing Xander that he no longer had any will
other than that of his Sire. Of
course, there were compensations. The
erection that Angelus was now grinding into his Childe’s groin was one of
them; his answering hard-on was another. The
thing with vampires, pain and pleasure were so closely linked that usually one
led to the other. What started out
as punishment rapidly became reward.
Xander’s
keening jolted Angelus back from his musings.
If he drained any more, the whelp would be unconscious and that didn’t
suit with his plans. Looking around
him, he selected a whip from Drusilla’s box of tricks.
Red welts leaked blood as Angelus took out his anger on the whimpering
form of the late Xander Harris. For
good measure, as Xander flashed him a look begging for mercy, Angelus snarled
and kicked him in the head. The
blood spattered across the floor as Xander’s temple was gashed, his eye
closing up and purpling.
Content
that his newest addition had been taught a lesson, Angelus relented and left the
youngster to coil in on himself to ease the pain. He grabbed one of Spike’s
shirts and shrugged it on. It was
tight across the shoulders and chest but it would do until he could find more
his style.
Time
to stretch out his newly guilt-free body, maybe take in a victim or two before
heading out to remind Spike just exactly who was the head of the Aurelius clan
in Sunnydale.
~*~*~*~*~
The
watchers in the wings panted, the display of violence and raw sexual urges
calling to their pleasure centers. Black,
lust-filled eyes turned to gaze hungrily on the older and wiser, currently
flashing red ones of Ripper. By
mutual consent the torture implements they’d brought to join in the game were
dropped, their hands needed to rip at the clothing that impeded the contact of
bare flesh on flesh.
More
than one lesson would be learned this day…
~*~*~*~*~
“What’s
this…a gift from my ungrateful get? Xander…you
shouldn’t have…”
Angelus
was walking round the bound and gagged Jenny Calendar, her face bruised and
bloodied, eyes wide and frightened. She
was tied to a chair, hands behind her back, her hair lank and unwashed.
By the smell, she’d been there for days.
Crouching
down in front of her, Angelus loosened the gag.
Gasping for air, Jenny sobbed out, “Angel!”
“Sorry,
no prize this time…care to roll again?”
Angelus
gloried in the confusion that swept across the exhausted woman’s face.
“Angel?”
Quieter, more unsure.
“I’m
afraid…Jen…that Angel has had to leave us rather unexpectedly.
Still, no sense in wasting this body is there?”
He
leaned in to tower over her, hands on her knees as he placed a soft kiss on her
lips. Gently, he kissed her eyelids,
her cheeks, her nose. Then he spoke,
barely a whisper.
“Jenny
Calendar…have you ever been fucked unconscious by a rampant vampire?”
Her
staring, frightened eyes were fixed on his face as his fangs lengthened and his
brow ridged. Her scream as he bit
down on her neck echoed throughout the factory.
Xander untied her hands and feet to allow his Sire to have free rein with
her. Angelus ripped his teeth from
her neck leaving a ragged gash that bled profusely.
Jenny swooned with the pain, the scant food and drink during her
captivity not helping. She was
thrown roughly up against the wall, her head bouncing off the surface with a
loud thud. Angelus thrust his tongue
through her tightly clamped lips, her resistance making him hard and hungry.
As
she began to respond despite herself, he smirked against her mouth.
“Now,
now Jenny…not on the first date, surely.”
Angelus
let go of her, letting her weak body to slump to the ground.
He always liked to prolong the moment and he had other things to attend
to. There was more than one
form of torture…
Jenny
watched Angelus beckon to Xander and stride from the room. After spending almost
four days bound and gagged after Giles had taken her hostage, and the recent
bloodletting by Angelus, she was too weary to remain awake, and she viewed the
retreating demon’s figures through darkening eyes as she lost consciousness.
“Come
on, my boy, time to pull some rank around here.
Let’s go find us a couple of blondes.”