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.
Disclaimer: I do not own the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel (The Series). All of the characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, et al.
Feedback: Love some, Thanks! give_it_to_me_spikey@yahoo.com
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? ful 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.
Chapter 2
“Maybe you didn’t hear me before.” She says, a mockery of a sweet smile on her face. “Screw….”
I cut her off with a stinging slap to the face. I’ve been avoiding laying a hand on her, in the sense of striking her, but as I’ve told her, if she wants to push me she’ll sure as hell suffer the consequences. She doesn’t protest the slap or even show any sign of pain other than the involuntary watering of her left eye,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 beauti as this is the cheek which is now burning with my fingerprints. I know something is hurting her and I don’t flatter myself that it has anything to do with me, but it seems that whether she is aware of it or not she is showing me the way to help her. She doesn’t need or want comfort just now, maybe she feels she doesn’t deserve it. I can see guilt over something written all over her face.
“I’m going to let go of your hands.” I tell her. “You are going to walk to the middle of the room; with your head down. You will remove all of your clothing. You will wait for me there in the correct position. You will not take your eyes off the floor and if you even look like you are about to say ‘screw you’ or speak at all, I will gag you and flog you until you’re too exhausted to mouth off again. Do you understand me?”
“Yes Sir.” She says, her eyes seem to bore into mine as a look almost of relief crosses her face. “Thank you.” She adds quietly.
I’m thrown for a second by the genuine gratitude in her voice. Obviously I’m on target, she needs me severe and unbending, for now at least. She seems to honestly want me to go the whole hog and as always I won’t disappoint my lady. However, I’ll do it my way, she won’t force my hand into anything I haven’t planned or thought about completely tonight. Still gripping her face I knock the breath out of her with an almost brutal kiss. Pulling away I release her hands and face and step back from her. She remains still for a moment, as if the kiss stunned her.
I suck in a breath. Here we go, if I thought God hadn’t long ago deserted my pathetic existence I’d be praying about now that I could get this right. Showtime.
“What the hell are you still standing there for? Move. Bitch!”
She jumps when I yell ‘bitch’, as she did when I yelled ‘now’ earlier. Hurriedly, she drops her head and moves past me. I pinch the bridge of my nose and the movement of my arm evidently catches her peripheral vision, making her cringe slightly as if expecting a blow. I don’t know whether that makes me feel happy or sick. In a ‘normal’ scene it’d make me happy but this whole thing today has thrown me for a loop. I close my eyes for a second to muster up the finest performance I can. When I open them she is in position. Standing perfectly, legs shoulder width apart, hands behind her back, head down.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve let yourself in for?” I muse almost to myself. “Do you want me to punish you?” I say louder.
“I did think that was the whole point. Sir.” She says; the voice and demeanour meek but the content of her speech, anything but.
“Buffy, drop the attitude.” I command. “You know you’re going to get it when I’m good and ready. DO NOT make this any worse. I’m warning you now. I WILL take an actual bullwhip to you, not that nice little crop, or any of our usual things, if you continue this way. Do you want me to punish you?”
“If it pleases you Sir.” I detect a very slight sarcastic edge to her voice. Again, she’s saying the words, but I don’t like her tone. The only thing handy is a belt which I left on the floor yesterday. I quickly pick it up and let it fly full-length, like a whip, at her back.
She cries out at the blow, her back arches, pushing her breasts forward.
“Shut your mouth.” I tell her. I let another three fly at her back and she stays quiet apart from sucking in breath through her teeth as each lands. “Unless I ask you a direct question, you will ask for permission before speaking. You asked for this, in word and deed, so that includes wailing when I punish you. Every sound you make will double the blows I intend to give you. Do you understand?”
“Yes Sir.” She grinds out through her teeth. I have no doubt this is due to the burning of the pretty welts on her back. I let just enough of my demon through to allow me to strike harder than I normally would, so early in proceedings.
“You insult me.” I say, circling her. She shifts her weight on her feet, probably wants to say something but is mindful of my order. “Stand still!”
Lash right across her buttocks.
“You think you can waltz in here, get me to do what you want, with well-placed hands and deceitful kisses.”
She looks like she is going to ask permission to speak for a second then her mouth snaps closed. I decide to answer her unspoken question for her.
“No doubt you are wondering what I mean by ‘deceitful kisses’.” I say continuing to circle, watching her muscles tense and relax as she fights not to turn with me. “They were deceitful, because you didn’t mean them. You marched in here, not even wanting kisses. Not really wanting me to touch you, not wanting my body, or my cock as you pretended was the case. You insult me by coming here dry as a bone. You know I can smell your arousal luv. You know there was none to smell. As much as I enjoy punishing you, I will not be a disposable means of alleviating your guilt. There are plenty of places you could go for punishment if that is what you desire, but you do not come to me unless you want all of it. All of me. What do you have to say for yourself?”
She doesn’t answer. Probably doesn’t know what to say. It’s unlikely she consciously realised that coming here was another instance of her using me. I always give her what she needs though, and this is no exception. I’m putting aside my urge to hold her, comfort her, tell her that whatever is wrong will be ok. I’m allowing a little of my demon, my old ‘big bad’ self through, to give her what she needs, but there’s no reason to let her know that.
I get close to her. Pull her bowed head back by the hair, not taking care to make sure I don’t hurt her too much. “You’d better have something to say for yourself.” I hiss in her ear. “It’s a direct question, Buffy; you can and will answer it.”
“I – I’m sorry.” She murmurs.
“That’s it?” I say, violently shoving her head back down and slapping the back of it. “THAT is your response? Not even nearly good enough. On your knees again, now!”
Luckily for her she obeys instantly. I move round to stand in front of her. My crotch is level with her face and I smile a smile that she can’t see because she at least has the sense to keep her head down. “Leaving your hands behind your back, undo my jeans and take my cock out.” I order.
She came here looking for punishment, not sex. However, I can smell that her body is beginning to awaken. Deep within her a trickle of moisture is forming. It will make it easier to control her, but harder for me to control myself.
I back up ever so slightly so that she has to strain forward a little to begin her task. Her mouth latches onto the material above the button. Her teeth graze my stomach very slightly as she does so. I pull her head back by the hair and slap her cheek. Not as hard as I did by the door, but hard enough.
“Watch the teeth.” I say before shoving her head back to my crotch.
This time she’s more careful. Takes the waistband gingerly between her teeth. The jeans I’m wearing are particularly tight and I know this won’t be easy for her. It only takes her a couple of seconds to become impatient. Gripping the edge of the material she yanks sideways so that the button slides along the hole before twisting her head and the material as she pulls back, the button popping free.
“Stop.” I command before she can begin trying to get a hold on the zipper tab. “That was sloppy to say the least.” I criticize her, refastening the button. “Start again.”
Her jaw sets in anger and I hope she’s not going to push me too soon. Her eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second before she drops them and murmurs an apology.
“I will tell you when to apologise.” I say. “Now do as you are told.”
There it is again, the aroma of arousal ever so slightly stronger. Telling me I’m on the right track.
She moves in again, starting more gently on undoing it. She is gentle for longer this time but it won’t come. She doesn’t use as much force as the last time but yet again she does yank at it. Pulling her head back I slap her again and refasten the button. My cock, straining at the jeans isn’t helping matters either.
“Do it again you useless little cow.” I say. A strong wave of her scent hits me. I raise, my eyebrow. So, the more demeaning my actions and words, the more effect it has? My demon is going to love this.
She manages it this time. It takes her a moment to get a hold of the tab of the zipper but I don’t complain about that, because while she is trying her chin and mouth are rubbing at me through the denim. Placing her mouth on the each side of the waistband in turn she pulls my jeans down to mid thigh. Luckily for her she seems to have decided to play correctly. She knows this is an ‘only do exactly what I have ordered’ scenario. Once my trousers are out of the way she pulls back slightly, head still bowed.
“Well, what the hell are you waiting for now? A gold edged invitation? Suck my dick girl. And do it well.”
I hadn’t ordered her to before and therefore what I’m saying is incredibly unfair. I’d have punished her if she’d gone ahead and done it without being told. However if she wants me mean, she’ll get it. No matter what she does it won’t be right, won’t be good enough, will not please me. If I play it right though, it’ll have the effect I want. She’ll get more and more desperate to please; then I’ll have her where I want her, then we’ll see.
She moves forward and takes the head in her mouth. Slowly, she runs her tongue around it. Flicks across the top with her tongue. Her shoulders visibly relax. As though, no matter how depraved this seems, how loud the voice in her head screams that this is wrong (and I know it does, I know how she fights herself), she is grateful for something to focus on. Anything that can distract her from her own thoughts and feelings.
I gather her hair into one hand as well as I can since it was cut. Hold it at the back of her head in a crude ponytail. She takes this as the signal that it is and immediately sucks me all the way into the fiery confines of her mouth. Her head bobs as she quickly finds a rhythm and begins to suck in earnest.
“Faster.” I command as I fight the urge to groan. My hand tightens in her hair as I use it to move her mouth faster on me. She continues to suck voraciously, immediately obeying my order to increase the speed. God her mouth! I can’t even begin to describe the ecstasy of the sight and sensation of her luscious lips wrapped around my hard shaft. I begin to thrust my hips and she makes an indiscriminate sound as I hit the back of her throat. I continue to thrust until I’m ridiculously close to spilling myself down her gullet. She knows I’m close too and pulls her head back, despite the fact that I’m still trying to hold her still so that I can thrust at will. Her tongue probes and flicks at the underside of my dick, just where the shaft meets the head. She knows what that does to me and no doubt she intends to please with her actions. It’s a shame to stop her really but I grind my teeth and do it. I pull her head all the way back by the hair and slap my hand back and forth across her face.
“I told you to suck it not play with it.” I say. “I will decide when I’m ready to cum. You purposely fought the position I had and wanted you in. You will have to be punished.”
A shudder runs through her and I smell more arousal from her. For a fraction of a second, the ‘William’ in me produces a pang of guilt almost. I don’t like really hurting her. When we play it’s for fun and our mutual pleasure. Even if she never utters the safeword (which she hasn’t yet – ever) I constantly reassure her and check she’s ok, even if it’s just by a furtive glance or smile out of character. I can’t do that tonight though, I feel certain she would just up and walk out on me if I did, it’s not what she wants from me. So the demon comes to the fore again, although I do temper its urge to rip and maim.
I slap her breasts with my right hand, forward and back on each, as I just did her face. Savouring the sound of flesh hitting flesh and the way her boobs dance after the blows. When I have done this twice on each breast I change the angle of my hand. Bringing it down in a backhanded motion I make sure the tips of my fingers catch her erect nipples. I repeat the motion on each side a couple of times before she gasps and her hands move of their own volition to cover her tender nipples. I know it’s a reflex and she probably didn’t realise she’d done it until her hands were already in place. She realises what she’s done and casts fearful eyes up at me. I meet her gaze with a stony glare and a raised eyebrow. She swallows hard and begins to lower her hands. I raise my hand again and on the same instinct her hands shoot back to her breasts.
“Buffy.” I say in a low tone. “Put your hands behind your back. You have earned this punishment and you will take it properly.”
“I’m sorry.” She murmurs as she moves them behind her.
“I’ll tell,” I bring my hand down hard, wrenching a gasp from her. “you when to apologise. Just try to do something right for once.”
She blinks back tears when I say that, obviously I’ve touched a nerve, a clue has been given to me. But she gets wetter elsewhere too. Seems like that’s the theme for the evening, I wonder which part of her body will get wetter first. I hate to see her cry and hope to hell I’m right about doing this to her. She is practically vibrating with the swirl of emotions inside her. So much so that you wouldn’t have to have any vamp senses to feel how fucked up and confused she’s feeling right now. I really don’t want to push her the wrong way, break her the wrong way.
I confine myself to a couple more swats at her breasts before tightening my grip on her hair once more and shoving my cock back in her mouth.
“Now this time stay fucking still while I fuck your mouth. If I want your input I’ll tell you exactly what to do and when. All you are for now is a willing, open, whorish mouth for me to spill myself into. Lets see if you can mange that. Although even that will probably be beyond you.”
I begin to thrust again, consciously forcing myself not to get lost in the sensation. God how many wet dreams did I have about this scenario? Both pre and post chip, pre and post falling head over heels for her. A slayer kneeling at my feet, submissively allowing me to use her mouth, her body, as I wish. I can’t lie to myself about it. It appeals to the demon and the darkest of my human sensibilities.
“That’s it.” I groan. “Take it like the little whore you know you are. Take my dick fucking your mouth, cos that’s all it’s good for darlin’. It’s all you’re good for. Fucking and sucking, your two great talents eh? And lets be honest, you’re hardly the best I’ve ever had at either.”
It breaks my heart to tell her I’ve had better, I know it’s one of her insecurities, it’s also a lie, she’s bloody good at it but what breaks it ten times over is the fact that it doesn’t even set off a spark of rebellion in her. I half expected to feel her teeth tighten on my cock or for her to throw off my grip and punch me in the face. Instead she just stays kneeling before me sucking me as I pump in and out of her mouth. I push the anguish away, concentrate on the job at hand. I cum before I even realise my orgasm was impending. God this is sending me down the same crazy route as her – I’m not even sure of my own emotions any more. Stick to the plan I tell myself.
I spew copiously into her open mouth. Obviously I took her by surprise too. To her credit she swallows most of it. However she cannot make her throat work fast enough and a glob slips out of her mouth, running down and off her chin to the floor. I pull her head back even while she is still gulping desperately trying not to spill more.
“How dare you?” I glare down at her. “Do you think you’re too good to swallow my cum? You think you can just spit it on the floor like I put something disgusting in your mouth.”
She swallows what was left in her mouth. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it, really I couldn’t. Please. I’m sorry. It was an accident.”
“Shut up!” I yell, my nostrils flaring as I detect fear and her unique musk now powerfully permeating the air. This is fucked up because I get the sense she thinks I mean it all; that I’m not playing her game but truly taking out my frustrations. I want to stop it but obviously its getting through to her in a way my cuddles and caresses failed to earlier. “Get up and go lay across my chair face down, NOW!”
Chapter 3
She obeys instantly, going over to the chair, lowering herself so that her body, just below her breasts rests on one arm, her upper thighs on the other. I walk slowly over to her. Her entire body trembles as I get closer and closer. I lightly stroke a finger down her spine watching the goosebumps that rise in its wake. When I reach her ass I use both hands to stroke and knead at her buttocks. I deliver two quick slaps to her upper thighs, which take her by surprise. She jumps slightly and I place a hand on her back as a warning.
“Those were for not moving quick enough.” I inform her, she actually couldn’t have moved any quicker but she knows better than to argue.
I go back to fondling her ass. Confusing her senses with the tender touch. Setting her body afire with the tension of not knowing how long this will last, whether the next second to tick by will bring another stinging swat to her exposed backside or legs. I slip a hand between her legs. I was right, she’s wet, her lips swollen, clitoris erect. No matter what her heart and head are telling her this is, her physiological reaction is always going to be arousal when we play these games. Her body recognises the spanking and name calling and everything else as foreplay and as always responds accordingly. I gather some of the natural lotion, bring it back and rub it into her ass cheeks.
“Such a beautiful ass.” I tell her. “Maybe you do have some redeeming qualities, your body was made for punishing and screwing. Such a shame that your disrespect and careless behaviour has forced me into marring this beautiful flesh. And oh but I’m going to mar it Buffy.” She sucks in air suddenly; I’m not sure whether it’s my intentions or my use of her name that caused it. Probably the latter, no doubt she is trying to lose herself in the fantasy, forget who she is; I can’t allow that if I’m to help her. “I should beat it black and blue, but I think for now we’ll settle for a nice fiery red shall we? Just enough to remind you who is the whore around here and to ensure that in future you’ll gratefully take whatever I choose to fill your mouth with.”
Without any further warning I bring my hand down hard on the left then the right cheek. Her head drops lower where it is hanging off the side of the chair and she hisses.
“Silence!” I command “I told you I don’t want to hear you whining. You bloody asked for this.” This is it, here I go. The internal fight with myself is going to stop, I’m going to let my darkness in until I’m ready to rein it back, until I get her to the stage of telling me what the hell is going on with her.
I begin to rain blows on every inch of her ass as I practically hiss at her. “I told you before, if you come here for punishment you better be ready to take it all. All the punishment I want to give you, all the dick I want to give you. I think that’s what you wanted anyway wasn’t it Slayer. You need my cock in you and you don’t care where I put it. Just need to be fucked like the little whore that you are. It’s what you came here for. All you ever come here for. Need your ass whipped raw ‘til you’re pleading with me to stop. Do you think I’ll stop Buffy? If I decide you’re not done do you think I’ll listen to your begging? And you will plead my luv. I promise you that. I’m going to make sure you know who you belong to. Make sure that you never dare to come here dry again. I’m just warming up here sweetheart. Do you think you can take it?”
She at least stays obedient enough to keep quiet in the face of my rhetorical questions. Her ass muscles clench and unclench in a random rhythm, never knowing where my hand will fall next. Abruptly I stop spanking and after a couple of seconds her rigid body goes limp where she lies over the chair.
“Oh I wouldn’t relax if I were you.” I sneer. “That’s just the hand spanking over. You’re getting a taste of the belt again now.”
Her head drops and although I can’t see it I can imagine her chewing on her bottom lip, steeling herself to take more, but she doesn’t make a sound.
“For these ones you have permission to speak, but only to count the strokes out for me. Understood?”
“Yes Sir.” Her voice sounds tiny, timid, but I don’t allow myself to dwell on that fact.
I begin and she dutifully begins to count out the blows. However when I reach ‘5’ I up the tempo of the strikes significantly. She struggles valiantly to count but they’re hard and fast and by ‘12’ or ‘13’ she has lost count and merely gasps at the blows which fall for a couple more strokes. I look at her trembling, burning ass and slap it hard with my hand right across the middle.
“Get up.” I tell her. She climbs onto shaky legs and stands before me. I can hear her heart racing and see her hands twitching as she fights the urge to rub at her sore and tingling flesh.
“I didn’t mean ‘up’,” I sneer. “Why the hell would I want you anywhere but on your knees when you’ve displeased me so much and apparently can’t even count past ten?”
I’m about to shove her to her knees but she drops and beats me too it.
“P-permission to speak please.” She asks, her voice shaking.
“No.” I say “You have to earn that and you’ve been nothing but bad up to now. You’ll keep your fucking mouth shut until I decide I want to put my dick in it again.”
I’m taken by surprise when she looks up at me and I see a tear roll slowly down her cheek. I almost start arguing with myself again but one tear doesn’t mean we’re where we need to be. If I let her speak now I’m sure I’ll be lucky to get even half of the story. She isn’t far enough under my thumb for me to be able to force it all from her.
“Don’t you dare look at me like that.” I yell. “Stay exactly where you are.”
I stalk over to the toy box and I’m quickly back in front of her with a collar and leash in my hand. “Lift your hair.” Is all I say as I move in and fasten the collar round her neck. It’s larger than the one we normally use and a lot more uncomfortable for her. As soon as it’s in place I clip the leather leash onto the D-ring on the front. I waste no time at all in pulling her down onto all fours.
“Right then my little bitch.” I say. “Let’s see how obedient you can be.” I tug on the leash as I begin to walk a circuit around the edge of my crypt. I move quickly so that she struggles to keep up as she crawls in my wake. I will get her far enough into sub-space that she’ll tell me what’s wrong when I order it. I’m determined.
The leash is long enough that I can double it over and still have enough ‘give’ in it that I’m not choking her. Stopping abruptly I turn and use the extra length to slash at her back.
“Keep up.” I order, immediately walking off again. She manages to keep up this time and after a couple more circuits I take her into the middle of the room. I stand still and instruct her to crawl round in a circle at the end of the leash. I stand in the middle and turn as I watch her do as she’s told. What with the spanking and the sight of her on her hands and knees quietly doing my bidding, my cock is as hard as a rock again. It’ll have to wait for a little while though. Unless of course I decide to have her suck me off again. I decide to test her obedience a little further.
“Head up.” I command. She doesn’t do it quick enough so out comes the belt again and it slaps down on her back. “Quicker next time.” I tell her. “And higher, you can hold it higher than that.” I have her circle a couple more times with her head held high. Every time her head looks to be dropping a little I strap her back or buttocks. She hisses occasionally but her ass is already losing its glow thanks to her accelerated healing abilities. It’s one of the best things about playing these games with her; she can take so much more than your average human. However these blows aren’t designed to seriously punish, they are to remind her constantly of my control, of her deference to me, of what her place is here.
With that in mind I begin to let out a litany of orders. “Faster, slower, get your ass up, drop your head, lift your head.” I give her barely enough time to register each and obey it before meting out those disciplinary taps with the belt. Eventually she whimpers in frustration at the speed of the orders and the constant punishment falling in different spots every time.
“Stop.” I order when she reaches a particular spot. “Put your head down. Look at the floor. What do you see?”
“Y-your cum Sir.” She says. Her backside begins to move down and backwards, her body no doubt protesting the position it has been in for a while now. I prod it with my foot and she immediately goes back onto all fours properly.
“And why is my cum on the floor, bitch?”
“B-because I………….Oh God I’m sorry.”
“Just answer the question.” I bark.
“B-because I spilt it. I couldn’t swallow it all.”
“Because you don’t like it? Because you think you’re above swallowing my spunk?”
“N-no. It’s not that. It’s not. I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s not that I promise.”
“Prove it!” I challenge.
Her brow furrows for a moment. Then she lowers her mouth to the couple of drops of semen. Good God she must be really feeling bad about something to demean herself like this. Tears fall from her beautiful face to mingle with the ejaculate. She is not sobbing, just quietly weeping as she bends to her task. She quickly and efficiently licks my cum from the dirty crypt floor.
“Buffy?” my voice softens. “Are you ready to tell me? You don’t need more punishment. Just tell me.”
She lowers her head. Chews on her lip, tears still silently falling and slowly shakes her head ‘no’.
“Well someone’s a glutton for it tonight.” I scoff, forcing myself to ignore the weeping. “Bring me your patrol bag.”
She actually crawls to get it, without me telling her too. A strange sense of pride flourishes in me. Let’s see how badly she wants this. When she returns to a kneeling position before me holding her bag out like an offering I tell her to stand up while I rummage for what I’m looking for. She stands wincing at the movement, probably wanting to stretch and shake out her cramped muscles from being on her hands and knees for so long. She doesn’t though and I realise she has entered the state of blind obedience that I wanted. Now I just need to solidify it in her and we’ll be where we need to be.
Smiling in a slightly unpleasant way I hand her her wooden backed hairbrush. It’s large and quite heavy and perfect for what I have in mind. She takes the brush with a vaguely puzzled look, the tears slowing a little but continuing to fall. She obeys my motioning for her to turn around. Most of the blows she just took landed on her back and I notice with satisfaction that her ass has dulled from bright red to a dark pink blush. Just enough that extra pain will be more keenly felt, not so much that she will be in agony.
“You said you needed to be punished. I want to see how much you meant that.” I say. “I want you to smack your right butt cheek with the back of the brush. No holding back Slayer. Nice and hard now.”
She hesitates for a second.
“Trust me Buffy. You don’t want me to take it from you and do it myself.” I warn.
There is no further hesitation. She whacks herself. The angle is awkward but she flicks her wrist just-so and the blow makes a deliciously loud ‘crack’ as it hits her flesh. She cries out as if she wasn’t the one delivering the blow and she didn’t expect it. Her shoulders begin to shake almost imperceptibly with sobs she is trying to suppress.
“Now the left.”
An even more awkward angle but again she does herself proud. I notice that her backside shifts forward ever so slightly just before the blow lands. Moving closer I stand to her left and place a hand on her stomach.
“Keep going.” I order, “and stop shifting away from the blows. You wanted this. You’ll do it good and hard. And stop the crying. Your tears won’t get you out of this. There’s only one way out and you know what it is.”
She makes a valiant effort to stop crying. Suppresses the shoulder shaking but the odd tear still rolls out. Her hand flies as she alternates between her own cheeks.
“Stop.” I order after a little while. “God you’re pathetic aren’t you? Some warrior of the people you are luv. Stood in a vampire’s crypt, smacking your own ass just because I told you to. And you can’t even do that right. Those were ridiculous attempts, nowhere near hard enough. So again I’m forced to take matters into my own hands. Again I’m left disciplining a little whore instead of using her for my pleasure and throwing her back out on the street where she belongs.”
I grab the hairbrush from her hand and throw it across the room so hard that it breaks in two when it hits the wall. Out of nowhere the thought hits me that I wish this was over now. Wish my Buffy was back – the one who would instantly break character to chew my ear off about how difficult it is to find decent hairbrushes and do I have any idea how much that cost? Have to do this, have to get her back. Physical pain has got us so far, as has humiliation. Let’s try mixing the two with pleasure. Something has to get through to her.
Grabbing her by the nape of the neck I drag her over to a sarcophagus and roughly throw her on top, face down. As with her position on the chair earlier her head dangles off one side and her legs the other. I spread her legs wide giving myself access to her pussy and ass. She shivers as I run a hand over her exposed pussy lips. Her body tenses as if this is the last thing she wants. It can’t fight me though. The pair of us just have to look at each other and our clothes practically fall off. Her body knows my touch and responds whether her brain wants it or not.
“Oh I bet you’re really ashamed of yourself now Slayer.” I jeer. “You’re face down over a sarcophagus, in a vampire’s crypt. You’ve just sucked my dick, let me beat your ass raw, crawled around like my dog, licked my cum off the floor and beat yourself for my viewing pleasure. Any decent Slayer would be mortified, but you? No not you. You are actually wet from it all. How does that make you feel? That I can make you horny by degrading you over and over again?”
She’s wet but not anywhere near the way she normally would be if the things we just did had been ‘for fun’. But my words sink into her, it’s almost as if I can see it happening. I don’t know if she’ll even remember the exact words but I know she’ll remember how they made her feel. Her shoulders are shaking with silent sobs again. I slip a finger inside her and slowly circle it, stretching the entrance to her vagina. I pump it in and out a couple of times, spreading the moisture from the inside to the outside. I graze her g-spot on one inward thrust and her hips buck entirely of their own accord.
“Noooo!” she sobs out. “Please don’t make me cum. I don’t deserve it, I shouldn’t want it but God help me I do. Please just punish me.”
I knew it. I just knew that after everything that just happened the worst punishment I could possibly devise would be to make her cum. Make her find pleasure in her punishment because she still feels that she should be punished and should have no pleasure at all. I’m going to do it though. If she feels that strongly that she doesn’t deserve it, I will torture her by giving her the one thing that will make her feel worse. My demon is roaring at me to plunge my dick into her. For all my constant internal fighting my body is as inherently aroused by this type of play as hers is. I remind myself that I have the control. I use that control on the demon and instead of mounting her and fucking her into the middle of next week as it wants, I settle for inflicting punishment for speaking without permission.
“Who the fuck told you you could speak?” I yell. I slam a hand down across the middle of her ass and press hard on her g-spot with the finger still inside her at the same time as the blow lands. Her hips shift back and up trying to make firmer contact with the finger inside her. “You will apologise. And you had better make it good.” I say as I strike at both points again.
“Oh God.” She chokes out past her sobs. Entirely unable to separate emotional pain, physical pain and desire. “I-I’m sorry. S-sorry I questioned yoooouuu! Sorry I spoke out of turn. So s-sorry for everything.”
We’re getting there I can tell. That last little sentence of hers tells me we are.
“That’ll do.” I tell her sternly. I set about spanking her ass again. She’s going to be sore after this, maybe for a day or two, Slayer or not we’ve been going at it for a while and she’s actually bruising. I spank in a rhythm, four times softly, then one hard one. The first four are accompanied by my stroking her g-spot lightly. The fifth one, the hard one, is accompanied by a hard stroke on the internal sweet spot. I keep up this rhythm for a while until I can tell she’s on the edge of orgasm. At the point where one more set in the expected rhythm would surely make her scream like a banshee, I change it. Alternating from cheek to cheek, each blow lands hard and I press as hard as I am able on and off, back and forth over that special place inside her now quivering channel.
She’s soaking my fingers and as I land these blows I go back to verbally lashing her for finding pleasure in this. All of a sudden she’s cumming. Hard and fast, I almost feel it rush through her myself. Her body goes rigid and she screams her release even through the tears and sobs still choking her. Stilling my hands I let her ride it almost all the way out, before bringing my hand down hard across the middle of her ass and stimulating her inside again. Just as she’s coming down, I force her into another orgasm and another and another.
“Oh God……..oh….ohh…….ohhhh…..ooooohhhhhhhh!” her sobs get harder and I finally take pity on her. I remove my finger from inside her and the hand that was so recently punishing her ass rubs at it gently now. Occasionally moving up to her back to rub soothingly as she comes back to earth. I can tell she’s exhausted and disoriented. Can’t tell if she’s in heaven or hell. In so much emotional pain, crying so hard that she doesn’t even know if she enjoyed her release. This is crunch time. This is the point where she might well protest my soothing rubbing of her back and get up and walk out on me; or she might do what I hope and let me into that mind of hers and tell me what’s going on.
I stop rubbing and step back from her, my heart forgetting that it doesn’t beat and flailing in my chest.
“Well done Buffy.” I tell her deciding to ignore the ‘Oh God’ that escaped her in the midst of her passion there’s no need for more punishment over silly rules about speaking. “You’ve taken everything so well. You have permission to speak. You also have permission to say whatever you want. I’m not ending the scene – if you go off at me again I’ll presume you want more punishment but it doesn’t have to be that way. I can listen to you. You can tell me what’s wrong. Please Buffy.”
For a long moment she doesn’t move just lays there on her stomach, her whole body heaving with her sobs. I’m scared to move, If I could breathe I’d be scared to. The whole world drops away and the longer she stays motionless the more I feel that I’m falling into an abyss. Oh what have I done? Have I broken her completely? Have I driven her insane?
Then she moves. From pure force of habit I sigh with relief. Slowly she pulls herself off the sarcophagus. Her slow movements belying the burning and tingling and pain in her back and ass. Her legs don’t work too well, but it doesn’t matter because she lowers herself slowly but still gracefully, even after all this, to her knees in front of me. She turns her tear stained face up to look me in the eye. Still weeping but we’re back to less violent tears now.
“Thank you Sir.” She says and I want to tell her not to call me that. Tell her that I want her to open up to me, but I sense that we’ve made a breakthrough and if the game has gotten her this far then I’m not about to abandon it and make her run.
“Please forgive me for not obeying you properly. Please forgive me for coming here the way I did. Please…” she chokes back a sob. “Please forgive me for everything. I want to tell you what happened, want to,” another sob “to tell you why I acted like I did. I don’t blame you if you want to fuck me and throw me out, it’s more than I deserve. I know after the way I’ve behaved you won’t care about my pathetic little sob story and I can’t expect you too after the way I was when I came here today. I needed everything you’ve just given me and you knew that. I just hope that you can please, please give me this one last thing and hear me out. I have to get this out Spike, there’s so much messing up my head and I’ve got no right to put it on you but I don’t know what else to do.”
She called me Spike, not Sir, Spike! There was no way in hell I would’ve thrown her out anyway, this whole thing has been to get her to tell me what was wrong. Then she said my name and I have to hold myself back from gathering her up and smothering her with kisses. I’m still not sure how tentative this is and I’m still treating her a little like a bomb, no sudden movements. It’s a heart wrenching relief when her explosion suddenly comes and it’s a blast of fresh tears, as she begins to tell her story. The words babbling out on top of each other in her haste.
Chapter 4
I can barely make out a coherent sentence, she’s crying so hard. Well, that and the fact that I don’t think she is actually forming coherent sentences. I catch ‘friends’ and ‘you’ and ‘bitch’. I think she says something about her mom and she definitely says something about vampires and killing. I reach forward and stroke her arm, trying to calm her down so that she makes sense but she jumps back from me as if I’d slapped her. Anger rises from nowhere, I thought I’d got through to her but she still won’t let me comfort her. My anger dissipates rapidly however when she turns her tortured face up to me and does form an audible sentence.
“I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want you to touch me, I know you were trying to comfort me but I don’t deserve it. I want you to hear me out. If you still want to then, I’ll be amazed. Whether you do or not I’ll take whatever you want to give me, good or bad. That’s if you even want to give me anything at all. I’ll leave straight away if you want me to. ”
The pain in her eyes envelops me, washing away every last shred of anger. What the hell can she have done, what can have happened that she’d think I’d ever pass up an opportunity to be the one to soothe her pain? Slowly I reach forward and take her hand.
“Very well Buffy.” My ‘Master’ voice is back. “Come over here and tell me what’s wrong.” The voice does what my touch could not at this point. Quiets her tears as she allows me to lead her meekly over to the comfy chair. I motion her to sit down on it but she shakes her head and drops my hand to kneel in front of it. Evidently she wants me to sit in the chair while she kneels at my feet to talk to me. She’s about to spill so I’m not even going to consider recrimination for this small act of rebellion, I’ll do as she wants, because after all, it’s mostly about what she wants when we play these games.
She clears her throat and looks up at me. A waterfall still cascades from her eyes but the violent sobs are no longer wracking her body.
“You were right.” She starts. “What you said about me being pathetic? You were so right Spike you don’t even know.”
“Buffy, sweetheart, you know that was just……….”
“Please.” She interrupts. “I’m sorry to interrupt you but please can I just get this out before you say anything? I know it’s not my place to ask you to keep quiet. The safeword is still in the ‘unsaid’ category, but I beg this one thing of you.”
“Ok.” I say reluctantly. “I’ll try as best I can, but that’s as near a promise as you’ll get.”
I thought that might get me a twitch of a smile, but it doesn’t. I resign myself to the fact that she obviously has a lot to get off her chest and I won’t be seeing my Buffy until she does. I can only hope that simply saying it all out loud will make it better. She takes a deep breath, clears her throat again then drops her head, unable to hold my gaze as she begins to speak through her tears.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a horrible person. I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to realise it but it’s finally sunk in. There’s a whole list of reasons why I know I’m right about this. So here I go.
“First of all, my friends. I hate them. Hate them for bringing me back. I told you before, I was done, and I was happy when my body was rotting in the ground where it belonged. I hate that I’m back and my life is just one long round of fighting again. I have idle thoughts about going away, taking my life. For the most part I’m on auto-pilot. I eat I drink, I sleep – sometimes, and I patrol. And through all of it I’m walking around numb. I had enough of violence and fighting and bloodshed and I hate that this is my life again. But then, even saying this makes me feel like a spoilt child; it’s my duty and I should just get on with it like I used to. Except now I feel like I can’t even complain about it. Because if I do I’ll hurt my friends, I should be happy that I’m alive God knows they were happy that I was back. But then, I think that that’s only because now they don’t have to worry about the slaying, ‘Buffy’s back we’ll be ok’ and that’s when the worst thoughts come. I actually want to hurt them sometimes, because they’re the bastards that did this to me. They hated having to share out my old duties between them so much that they selfishly ripped me out of the peace I’d found so they wouldn’t have to any more. They made me live in this hell. And I get so angry that I want to hurt the people I love and I don’t even know if I can love them anymore.”
Her eyes had settled down a little but now they are streaming again, I desperately want to put her straight on some things she’s said but I said I’d hear her out and I get the feeling she is far from done.
“And I should love them, they were so genuinely sorry and upset when they found out I’d been in heaven – but I can’t even make myself care about that. They think I’m over it now, and I try to put on the happy face so they don’t know but there’s this huge gaping hole inside me where my feelings used to be.”
She takes a deep breath, swallows hard and blinks a few times. I sense she was on the edge of sobbing again but she gets it under control.
“Then, there was tonight. You and I had that stupid argument, about nothing. Hell it wasn’t even an argument it was just us being us. But I left here and that black hole just got bigger and bigger. So, obviously I was me about it and got even more upset about the fact that I was upset over you.” I wince – so not what I want to hear. She seems to be letting me in, but I don’t know if I want to be ‘in’ if she’s about to tell me how much she hates herself for caring that we had a fight.
“So do you know what I did? I went and sat on my mom’s grave and cried like an idiot. Telling her that I wanted to be with her, then cursing her for not coming to get me. Then I saw some vamps. They had two humans with them and I just sat there. Sat there crying until they noticed me. It was like a lightbulb went on in my brain. I cried a little louder so that they would notice me then I just sat and waited for them to come and bite me. They came too. Laughed at me, promised to send me to meet my mommy. I was so pathetic, at that moment that’s all I wanted. I just can’t live like this anymore. It wasn’t until one of them had his fangs right at my neck that I unspaced. And by then…..” She starts sobbing again. “Oh God. By then they had already killed one of the guys Spike. I let them kill an innocent man all because I was having an ‘Oprah’ moment. What the hell am I that I could let that happen? And suddenly I can feel again, feel plenty and all of it is guilt. Guilt ripping me apart because I’m so selfish that I let a man die.
“And do you know what caps it all off? Why I know I’m not even fit to breathe? The very next thing I did was come to you for punishment. And I know that that is so wrong. We are so wrong and that’s as much my fault as the guy I killed tonight. I know you love me, but I won’t even think about it. I won’t think about it because you are the only one that can make me feel, but if I don’t control those feelings I might look into myself and realise that I actually care for you. And I know that the second I do that you’ll leave. So even though I give you nothing back, I come to you to feel, but carry on making myself indifferent to you. I selfishly come here night after night with my feelings turned off. God, do you know, I don’t even know how I feel about you. Don’t know if I’m capable of feeling anything at all apart from the obvious lust. I’m like a leech, I take all the love you can give me and keep it inside myself. Use it to warm myself, make me feel not so alone when I lie in my own bed at night. I take advantage. I use you. You don’t deserve that. You’ve done nothing but help, or try to help, even when I was gone you looked after Dawn. And how do I repay you? I use you. Just like I use my friends, you’re all handy sometimes but the rest of the time I just want it all to go away. I’m a cold, unfeeling, bitch who can’t even do my job properly. A man died because I’m so wrapped up in myself. I deserve to be hurt. To be put down, trodden on because I’m dirt.”
I’m fighting to keep my mouth shut now. She’s in genuine pain I can feel it coming off her. She really believes every word she says, even when she’s almost contradicting herself. I hope she’s nearly finished because I have some counterpoints that she is going to listen to, like it or not.
“And do you know what the worst part is?” she continues, evidently not quite done yet. “It isn’t even real punishment. Because when you do those things to me I like it. I get off on it. How twisted am I, that the only thing that makes me feel ‘normal’ is being overpowered by a guy? And even when I purposefully push you, you can’t hurt me enough. I’m a walking fuck-up and I don’t have the right to call myself a human being. I don’t have the right to breathe but I’m so pathetic that I didn’t even have the guts to end it. I couldn’t even do that right!”
Her face crumples and the loudest sobs yet begin to issue from her mouth. I drop down to the floor beside her, pushing the chair back so that I can squeeze between it and her and wrap my arms around her. I pull her into a tight embrace and she doesn’t fight me. In fact she turns to me, burrows her face into my chest and heaves out her guilt, anger and frustration, soaking my t-shirt within seconds. I kiss the top of her head and rock her like a child while she just cries and cries.
After a long while she slowly stops crying and disentangles herself from my embrace. She doesn’t pull completely away, just out of the hug. She’s still sitting on my lap, staring intently at her hands which are clasped in front of her.
“Thank you Spike.” She says quietly. “Thank you for listening, for not throwing me out as soon as I was finished spilling my guts. I feel better, but I know I said some things about you that you don’t want to hear, so I’ll go.”
I sigh deeply as she speaks. She says she feels better and no doubt she does, right now. However the very fact that she still isn’t looking me in the eye and she’s talking about leaving tells me that crying her problems out wasn’t enough. Deep down she still believes every word she said, no matter how she may think she feels now. Her relief is temporary. I am determined that she will not carry all this around until she reaches the point of suicide again.
I place a finger under her chin, turning her face to me. When our eyes meet I ask quietly.
“Buffy. Think very carefully about your answer to this question. Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” She answers immediately. Which is some progress at least.
I sit her on the chair I vacated when I started to comfort her and go to the fridge. I pull out a cold bottle of water. She’s cried and sweated so much in the time she’s been here that I want to make sure that dehydration doesn’t set in. She needs to be fighting fit if I’m to help her truly get over her problems. I give her the water and tell her to drink it all. I stroke her hair from her face as she drinks it all in one go. Our eyes meet briefly and she gives me a whisper of a smile before looking away. When she’s done drinking I take the bottle and set it aside.
“One more time just to be sure.” I say. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” She says, full eye contact this time.
For a second I close my eyes. This train is off and running again. I don’t think this part will be quite so rough once Buffy gets what I’m doing, but I have to make sure we lay all these issues to rest. Desperate to help her completely confront her problems, I launch myself back into the game. I let my demon face rise and I snarl as I yank her off the chair and almost throw her into the middle of the room.
“Then get back on your knees my little bitch. We’re far from done here.”