"Do you want to play a game?"

I had been lying on my back, staring at the ceiling above me, gathering my wits, so I could, how did he say it? 'Kick him in the head and run out, virtue fluttering.' But first I had to get my strength back. His voice seductively cut through my post coital daze. I was annoyed to say the least.

I shifted my head to look at him. "A what?"

He smirked and I wanted to hit him. "A game love."

"What kind of game?" I spoke quietly, as if whispering would make this less real. He gave me a look that was pure sexual predator. He has a million looks and all but a few of them can reduce me to a puddle of goo within minutes.

He ran his fingertips from my shoulder to the back of my hand.  A light touch. Barely caressing my skin. An involuntary shiver ran through me.

"Our kind of game." His voice had become deeper, rougher. It's a voice I find hard to resist.

"We have a kind of game?"

He smiled and leaned in to kiss my shoulder. Another shiver. "Oh yes love. And I guarantee that you'll enjoy it." I was sure I would, but… a part of me thought I should leave. We'd already patrolled and engaged in a round of 'post patrol relaxation.' I had an angry, hormonal sister and a magically addicted friend waiting for me at home. They wanted my time; they wanted to lean on me. They wanted me
to make it all better. Putting it that way, why would I ever want to leave. "Alright." I whispered. "We can play a game."

He offered me a genuine smile and it made my chest tighten. I was proud that I could make him look like that, but it frightened me at the same time. That smile told me more than I was willing to admit.  I was about to change my mind when he kissed me again. Ok, I would stay. "That's my girl." I decided to let that one pass, as I didn't
think I could speak, even if the world depended on it.

He got out of bed and began rummaging around in some boxes.  I tried not to look. Honestly. It's funny; I have no inhibitions during sex.  I've let him handcuff me. Hell, I've even handcuffed him. But to watch him walking around, it seems too intimate. That's something you do with a boyfriend, not a…what was he anyway? Lover, sex partner, shag buddy? I wasn't sure, but I knew we weren't at that stage yet.  Not that we'd ever reach that stage. At least I never would. To be honest, I don't know if he realizes the significance. He just has no modesty at all. I suppose if I were a man and had a body like his, I wouldn't mind showing it off either.

"A ha!" His exclamation startled me and I averted my eyes before he caught me. "Buffy." He sing songed my name, so I looked back at him.  He was doing that bed crawl thing that melts me every time. I saw that he had something fisted in his hand. He noticed my inquisitive look and with one of his smirks, he lifted his arm and let the contents fall.

At first all I saw was black, but then I caught one in my hand and I realized it was a scarf. Several scarves actually. I ran it through my fingers. It was real silk, not the cheap, polyester blend. I wondered how he could have afforded these. Duh? Sometimes even I think I am a natural blond.

I surreptitiously looked for a label. If we are going to use scarves as foreplay, or whatever, then I would like to at least know which designer I will have to bow my head in shame in front of in the future. No label. I couldn't even see where one had been cut. Perhaps these were from when labels weren't put on things. This brought an ugly thought to mind. "These are new aren't they? I mean you haven't, umm, used these on, before?"

"No love. These are all for you."

"Why so many?" He smiled mysteriously and told me I'd find out. I wasn't sure if I should be pleased or not.

He lifted one from the pile and ran it through his fingers. When I did that, it was, well, running a scarf through my fingers. But when he did it, it was as if he were memorizing every fiber. Like the way when his hands run over my body, exploring every crevice and line. He is blind and I am his Braille text.

I was so absorbed in what he was doing I missed most of what he said. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing. Half the time I prefer not to hear what he has to say. He sighed. It wasn't one of the pleasant ones either.

His lips tightened and his eyes narrowed. I could feel his mood change. He's like that, so mercurial. His moods were like forks in the road. He could start off in one direction, and then switch to another, usually a less pleasant one. I'm afraid my inattention may have moved us off course. I fixed my eyes on him and slowly blinked. His face and shoulders softened immediately. I smiled inwardly; it works every time.

His fingers were still caressing the silk. His expression turned thoughtful. "Did you know that silk is one of the toughest natural fibers?" He gave me his patented seductive look. "It takes a lot to tear through it."

At least I now knew what he meant to do. I wasn't nervous. Hell, I'd let him use metal handcuffs on me. Silk was nothing to Slayer strength, right?

I watched him tie one end of a scarf to the middle of another. Huh? I was hoping that this wasn't going to be one of his complicated plans because we all know how well those usually turn out.

He told me to kneel, face him and hold out my hands. Sometimes I think my free will checked itself at the entrance to his crypt.  Perhaps that would explain why I offered not a single question or protest.

He wrapped the scarf in a figure eight around my wrists. I hypnotically watched him. The shape reminded me of when I used to skate. I wondered what the younger, more innocent version of myself would have said if I told her that the only figure eights in her future were the ones that were part of sexual games.

He finished at last and my wrists were tied facing each other. The silk ensured that my bones don't press together. It's the little details like these that disturb me. It reminds me that he has a century of practice. Not that I mind the practice, because, well, it means good things for me. What bothers me is all the women he has done this with before. How do I compare to them? Let's be honest, my experience is not all that great. Insecurity, thy name is Buffy.

He must have sensed my discomfort because he made soothing noises and ran his hand along my hair and down my back. After I calmed, he picked up the trailing end of the scarf and pulled me towards the foot of the bed. I walked, waddled, scooted? Whatever it was, it wasn't graceful. I felt my skin reddening in embarrassment. He didn't say anything, which was good, because tied hands or no, I could still wallop him. Perhaps he realized this.

By the time he got me situated, I was facing one of the end bedposts. He tied the trailing scarf to it. The knot was secure, yet he could slide it up and down to better position me. I didn't know how this would fit in later, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. In the end, he left my hands parallel to the bed.

From my vantage point, I could see where the cavern led off to the tunnels. The candlelight didn't reach that far so it was all shadows. For some reason that made me nervous. Anything could come at us and I would be unable to do anything about it.

Spike had moved behind me and was running his fingers through my hair. It should have felt nice, but it didn't. Wondering if something was going to attack at us reminded me that a killer was at my back. I shouldn't have been scared; we had done this before, or something like it. But I was. He could so easily sink his fangs into my neck like he did the first one. Or he could snap my neck like the second.

What was I doing? I could feel the panic beating its wings in my
chest. How could I let him put me in a position like this? I began to
tug on the scarves and to my utter horror, nothing happened. There
was no reassuring sound of silk tearing. Where was my fabled slayer
strength now?

He was shhing me and running his hands up and down my back. I  continued to struggle and began to hyperventilate. He whispered platitudes in my ear. It reminded me of that movie with Robert Redford where he was trying to calm the rabid horse. When I first saw the movie, I thought it was neat. Now seeing it from the point of view of the horse, it wasn't nearly as nice.

"You just say the word love and we'll stop." He was using that soothing tone of voice that he used when I first came back and couldn't deal.

"B…but we didn't decide on a word." I let him tie me up and we hadn't decided on a safe word. How could I have done this? I tugged frantically on the bonds, but they weren't giving at all. Why couldn't I get free?

"Name it love and we'll use it."

Huh? What was he talking about? I think I tried to say that but it came out as a squeak.

His hands were still roaming over my back and shoulders. "A safety word love. All you need to do is choose one." He had moved to my side and was looking at me with his large eyes, his hand still on my back.  When I didn't answer, he moved towards the bedpost, reaching to untie me. It was the concern I saw in his gaze and the willingness to untie me that finally cut through my panic. This was Spike. My Spike. He would never hurt me. We had built an uneasy truce with our bodies and I feared that if I let him untie me, something between us would be fractured. I didn't know why it bothered me, nor did I care to know why it mattered. All I knew was that I had to stop him. I blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"Armageddon." He looked at me quizzically. "The word is Armageddon."

He chuckled and I relaxed even more. "Armageddon it is. Shall we continue?" Should we? Why did he have to give me so many outs? Perhaps I should just tell him to untie me. Did I really want to travel down this road? Why should I care if it ruined our relationship since we really didn't really have one anyway? He had asked me the other day if I trusted him. I told him no. That was a lie. I trusted him more than anyone else right now. He should know that.

I nodded and he began feathering light kisses on the back of my neck. My arousal, which I had thought was dead, began to seep languorously through my body.

"Are you really, really sure?" He re-asked the question against my neck. His lips felt like butterfly wings on my skin. I shuddered involuntarily and made up my mind. I nodded again. I felt his lips transform into a smile. "Good girl,' he said.

His hands, which had been caressing my back, began to roam into other areas. They moved down my arms to my silk clad wrists, they caressed my sides, the front of my thighs, the back of my thighs. He, I imagine, deliberately avoided every erogenous zone, but it didn't matter. The slight touches felt so good that my muscles relaxed even more under his ministrations.

That was when he started talking. Oh, when he spoke, his words could be snarky, rude and offensive. I often wanted to hit him. But here, when our defenses were down, and we were naked, his words wrapped around me, they lulled me. Was it the words themselves, his accent or his voice? I didn't know, and honestly, I didn't care. All I knew for certain was that when he spoke, here, like this, he created magic.

"Have I ever told you how much I love your body? When we're outside, you're all muscle and strength, but here, you're soft." His fingertips trailed down my chest between my breasts and along my abdomen. My muscles clenched, willing his hands to move lower, but he circled up my sides and along the sensitive underside of my
arms. "But I can still feel the real you. All this coiled strength. You're like an untamed tiger, ready to strike anytime, and only I can quiet you. "

My mouth opened to make some sarcastic remark but his palms grazed my nipples and all that came out was a gasp. I think he did that on purpose. His hands left my breasts. Bastard. I moaned and thrust out my chest, hoping he would get the message. He did. His hands caressed the underside of my breasts.

"I love your tits," he murmured in my ear. I shuddered. I wasn't entirely comfortable with his wordplay. The word tits seemed so vulgar, yet it suited him. The way he said it, his voice roughened with desire, excited a part of me. "They're so lovely. Like ripe peaches. And your nipples, like ripened berries." Ok, not very original, but with him, it's all in the inflection. He moved his hands back to my nipples, his palms moving light circles. He could say anything he wanted as long as he didn't stop.

"I love to watch you fight when you're wearing one of those little strappy tops. Your tits jiggle and your nipples harden." I thrust my chest out again hoping for more contact. His palms were driving me mad. "I just want to throw myself on you and suckle you til you scream." I moaned and pushed my back against his erection. I was
gratified by the catch in his breath. "Sometimes I wonder if I can make you come by touching your breasts alone." He pinched my nipples between his fingers and the feeling was so intense that I screamed.

"Oh God Oh God." It was a litany from my mouth. "Oh please more. More. I need more." His fingers tugged on my nipples and unbelievably, I could feel it starting. The tension moved from my fingers and toes towards my center. How could this be happening? He hadn't even really touched me yet. Maybe it was the residual adrenaline from earlier. Maybe. But really I didn't care. All that mattered now was that I was on the verge. I writhed, rubbing my ass against him. He pulsed against me. He was breathing, panting, matching my own rapid breaths. "Can you feel it baby?" His voice was rough in my ear and his fingers, oh his magic fingers, were plucking
and pinching at my nipples. The pleasure was pain, yet not. "Come for me love. Come for me like this. Just my hands on your luscious tits. I want to hear you scream." His mouth moved to my neck, sucking the skin between blunt teeth and his fingers gave my nipples a vicious twist. It was enough. I fell off the edge, the pressure releasing on a long moan.

I was boneless, my dead weight pulling at the bonds. His arms, still around me, were the only things holding me up. That was…wow. I never knew. It was just incredible. I was suddenly very happy I'd stayed.

"You liked that did you?" I made a noise that sounded a lot like a purr. I could still feel his erection at my back. I pressed back and smiled when he tightened his arms around me. "My tigress, my kitty." I couldn't help it; I giggled. He made a humming noise against my back and caressed my stomach with his hands. I let my head fall back against his shoulder. I twisted towards him and smiled contentedly. He leaned in and kissed me lightly.

"That was so nice." It was an understatement, but how could I tell him? How could I explain the effect his hands and voice had on me. How quickly I lost control. It had never been like that before.

"Nice?" His voice was sardonic. "I was trying for something a bit more spectacular." He sighed dramatically. "I guess we'll have to work on that."

I was intrigued. "There's more?"

"Oh my little kitty." His hands moved to my hips and pulled me against him. "We haven't even begun."

She is still lying boneless in my arms. It's moments like these that I want to store away forever. I have the Slayer, my Slayer tied to my bed and she's happy. When she runs, and I know she will, I want to be able to pull this memory out and savor it.

"Mmhmm." I've rendered her speechless. For someone who has an opinion, usually one that is at odds with mine, it is a real coup that I've made her incapable of coherent speech. I am good.

There is so much that I want to teach her. I can see her desire shimmering beneath her skin. She wants to learn, but she's still afraid. Tonight was a perfect example. Of all the reactions, this was the one I least expected. She had been understandably nervous when I first proposed the handcuffs, but she took to it like a cat to cream. So her reaction had thrown me tonight.

The depth of her fear frightened me. I wasn't sure if it was me or something else. I hope it wasn't me. I know I've spent several years trying to instill fear in her. But now, I just want her to know that being in my arms is the one truly safe place for her. My mum always said that you reap what you sow. I just hope that this won't turn around on me one day.

But now, at this moment, she's happy. She's relaxed and languid. I think it's time. "So are you ready for more?"

"What did you have in mind?" Her voice is almost coy. It makes me smile.

I reached back and grabbed another scarf. I rolled it up and held it in front of her. "I want to blindfold you." I nuzzle the skin beneath her ear. "I promise you'll enjoy it."

She held herself still for a moment, and then relaxed against me. "You told me I'd like what we just did and you were right. I'll give it a try."

I released a breath I didn't know I was holding. I was afraid she'd say no. She's always surprising me. I held the scarf to her eyes and tied it snugly. She was tense at first, accustoming herself to her loss of sight.

I gently bit her earlobe. "You'll find that your other senses come alive when you can't see."

"And you know this how?" she asked archly.

"Hush pet. There's only you and me here."

I dance my fingers across her skin, soft teasing touches. Her head drops back and she whimpers softly.

I know I'm a pathetic excuse for a demon. I know the other nasties out there ridicule me, but if they could see what I see, they'd understand. Angel understands. There's not much that I'm thankful for, but the happiness clause tops my list.

I reach for another scarf and let it spill through my fingers. I drag it across her shoulders and neck and down her arms. "Your skin is like this scarf, so soft yet resilient." Her breath catches. A beautiful sound. I caused it. Smugness fills me.

It is this combination that draws me. So much strength and softness combined in such a small and seemingly vulnerable form. There are days that I lie awake, wondering what sort of disaster could befall her. Car accident, especially the way she drives. Apocalypse. Natural disease. Someone or something finally having that one good day. I hate that I can't stand between her and the world. And I know if I were to try, she would not be here with me now.

Is it worth it? This pleasure that will end all too soon. She is mortal. She is a slayer. Like she says, she has an expiration date. I lived through her death once. I don't want to repeat the experience, but chances are I will.

Shakespeare once said that it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. I'm still not certain if I agree with him.

I let the scarf fall over her chest, allowing it to brush lightly over her nipples. She lifts her head and releases another small cry. I put my arms on either side of her and pull the scarf taut. I rub it horizontally across her nipples. They harden even more.

She's moaning now, pushing her chest forward for more friction. "Spike, please." I am nothing if not a gentleman, so I rub harder. Her head is swaying back and forth. The blindfold is freeing her. I thought it would.

I let one end of the scarf fall, trailing it lightly across her quim. She stills in anticipation. I reach between her legs and grab the loose end. I pull it slowly and softly through her legs, the silk gliding against her skin. She moans even louder. I pull it tauter and increase the friction. Her head falls back.

I touch her through the silk. I stroke front to back, back to front. She is so wet, so swollen. Her body is begging me to touch her. I tell her this and she squirms and wriggles and pushes down on my hand.

Her moans have changed in quality. They've risen an octave and they're more breathy. I love listening to her. She is a symphony of noises. I touch her in one place, and she groans. In another, she purrs. I wonder if this is how Beethoven felt every time he stood before his piano, knowing that his fingers would elicit such beautiful music. She is my instrument, her skin my keyboard, her voice my song. She is my ninth, my ode to joy.

Of course, half the time she opens her mouth, it is to disagree with me. But at moments like this, it's bliss.

I press harder. Her body is begging me for release. I can feel her muscles tense in anticipation of her orgasm. I find it amazing that I have grown so close to her that I can recognize this. It is a dream, one that I never thought would see reality. But we are here now, and I am touching her, caressing her. And she is responding to me. The pleasure is sublime.

But at heart, I am still a demon. I pull the scarf and my hand away. "No Spike. Please don't stop." She is begging, pleading with me to give her pleasure. It is a fantastically unreal dream and I wish to never wake up.

I bring the scarf to her nose. "Smell love. This is how you smell to me. So beautiful. So ripe and luscious." I see her nostrils flare. I take in a deep breath that she can hear.

"Mmm. Some say wine is the nectar of the gods. For others, it's beer. For me, it's you. I could lap and drink you forever and never feel sated."

My words are having an effect on her. Her ass is pushing at me and I am pushing back. I want in her so badly. I wanted to draw this out further, but I don't think I can. I need to feel her around me, surrounding me.

"Please Spike."

"Please what love?"

"I need you inside me?" She says it tentatively, more of a question than a statement.

My beautiful kitty has read my mind and perhaps I can push for a bit more. "Inside you where love?"

She squirms against me. "You know where." I knew. Of course I knew. But I needed her to say it. If we are to move forward, then I need to break down all of her inhibitions.

"The way I see it pet, there are three places where I can put it. I need to know which one."

I could see the blush rising through her skin. My poor kitty. No one but me has done right by her. She's trying to speak, trying to make the words come out, but she's having difficulty. I decide to help her.

I run my finger down her spine, to the rosy aperture of her ass. "Do you want me here?" She shakes her head no. I move my hand lower and capture a bit of juice on my finger. I bring it to her closed lips. I trace them with my finger. I can tell she doesn't want to let me in, but I gently pry her lips apart. Her tongue darts out to lick my finger. One little lick, then another. Soon she is sucking on the entire length of my finger. It's almost too much for me. I grind against her and she moans. "Do you want me there?" Again she shakes her head no.

My hand moves down, across one nipple, down the length of her torso, through her pubic hair and into her quim. A strangled noise emerges from her. "Is this where you want me?" She nods her head vigorously. "You still have to tell me." I can sense her struggling. The blush still hasn't faded. "You can say it love. Say it for me."

"I don't…" her voice tapered off and she groaned, this time in frustration.

"You don't know what to call it?" She nods. My beautiful slayer. At times she seems more Victorian than I ever was. "You can call it anything you want. Quim, pussy, cunt, box, anything at all."

"My quim." It's whispered, almost as if it is a bad word.

"Good kitty." I kiss her neck. She's ultra sensitive there. "Now tell me. What do you want in your quim?"

Another mewl of frustration. "You. I want you in my quim." Her voice is louder, more strident.

"Which part of me do you want? " She pulls in anger at her bonds and I laugh. "There are so many parts love.” I lower my voice to a seductive purr. “Tell me my kitty. Which part of me do you want in your quim? My tongue?” I lick the back of her neck. She shudders. “Or maybe my hand." I pinch her clit. She gasps. “Or perhaps it’s my cock you want.” I thrust against her. Her head falls back and she groans.

"I want your cock in my quim now!"

"Ask and you shall receive." I lean forward and push her arms lower along the post. It's an uncomfortable position for her, but at this point I really don't care. She grabs onto the post for balance. I tilt her hips back towards me, and run my cock along the outer edges, barely brushing her clit. She pushes back, trying to envelop me.

I've reached my limit. I can't take anymore. I need to be in her now. I grab her hips and shove into her hard. She screams. God I love to hear her scream, knowing I'm the cause. I hold myself still, fearful that if I move, I'll lose it and we still have a ways to go. She is squirming, her inner muscles flexing around my cock. Thank god for slayer muscles.

I pull out slowly. Almost all the way out. Then in again, hard, harder than before. I hold myself still again.

"Please Spike."

"Please what love?"

"Fast. Fuck me faster."

I love this girl. I start moving, in and out. My pace grows faster, more erratic. She is so hot. Her warmth explodes around me. I feel myself losing control. I want to fuck her. Fuck her into the bed, the floor, through the earth, all the way through to fucking China.

She's moaning and wriggling. But I can see she's not quite there yet. "Do you want me to touch you anywhere else?"

She nods. "Please my br…my tits." What a woman! I reach a hand around her and squeeze her tit. She shoves back at me.

"Anywhere else?" My voice is a rough whisper.

She nods again. "Yes. I want you to touch my…my clit."

"Lovely, lovely kitty," I murmur over and over. My other hand reaches between her legs and I clasp her clit between my thumb and forefinger. Her cries go up an octave. I can feel her muscles tensing. She's so close. I'm even closer. I thrust harder. Harder and faster. Thank god for vampiric flexibility, endurance and balance.

A stream of words comes from her mouth. "Yesyespleaseohgodyesmore." I'm pretty much the same. "Yesbabysqueezemeyesmydarlingmykittymylove."

At last, oh thank god, at last she comes, screaming my name, her muscles convulsing around my cock. I shove into her once, twice, and then I'm coming. "Buffy!" The orgasm rips through me in seemingly never ending spasms. My muscles twitch, my cock continues to jump. She's gasping, pulling ragged breaths into her lungs. So am I.

"Oh my God." She whispers it like a curse or a prayer. I'm not sure which. I pull out of her gently, her muscles reflexively clutching at me. Aftershocks of pleasure reverberate throughout my body.

I sit back on my heels, stunned into immobility. That was fucking incredible. I honestly don't think I've ever come that hard in my life. And that's saying a lot after a century of fucking.

"Umm, Spike." I look down at her. She's still clutching the post for support. A part of me wishes that I could leave her there forever so that I could take my pleasure of her anytime. The more rational part of my brain reminds me that she would eventually break free and that if I ever want a repeat performance anytime soon, I'd better untie her now.

I run my hands along her back, up through her hair, and I tug the blindfold loose. I move the hair from the back of her neck and kiss her gently. "My lovely kitty. You are incredible." Another kiss. "Lovely." Yet another. "Perfect."

I crawl to her side and untie the scarf from the post. I gather her hands in mine. She looks away. Her blush is back. I'm too content to mind.

I untie the scarf at her wrists and gently rub the redness away. I can sense her withdrawing from me. She's pulling away from me, back into her Buffy shell. A part of me is bothered by this. Another reminds me that this is all new to her and that I shouldn't expect too much too soon. I hate that voice.

I press a kiss into each palm. Startled, she looks directly at me. "Spike," her voice falters. "That was…was…" She's struggling for words. I lean in and kiss her. She relaxes into my kiss and then pulls away.

"I should really go. It's late. And Dawn…"

"Shhh." I kiss her again. "I know."

I pull her off the bed and she is standing there as if lost. I begin gathering her clothes and hand them to her. She stares at them, as if wondering what they are and what their purpose is. Just as I believe I am going to have to dress her, she pulls the garments on, piece by piece. I slip into my jeans and a shirt.

"I'll walk you home love."

She shakes her head. "Not necessary Spike." Her voice is still subdued. I want to argue. I want to get every last minute that I can out of her. But her face has hardened and I know that any argument will be futile.

I smile. "Let me at least walk you to the door." I want to tease her out of her silence, but she just nods mutely. We make our way to the upper level and to the door. I kiss her again. I want to fall to my knees and beg her to stay. Instead I run the back of my hand along her cheek. "Be careful love." She nods again and heads out the door. I watch until the night swallows her and she disappears.

 

Continued...