Rating: NC-17, bondage and smutty sex.
This is pure PWP, folks!
Takes place in season 5, no real spoilers to speak of. Spike is now chipped, but roaming free and playing nicely with the other puppies (Scoobies). Of course he does *not* love Buffy (blech!), and Willow never met Tara (sorry!). Buffy and Willow are both living at the Summers house. Pretty AU
Summary: Sunnydale suffers from a daytime power outage. How did Willow spend her time during the outage?
For Sylver, hope you like it.
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"So what did you do while the lights were out?" Buffy asked Willow curiously.
"N-n-nothing," the redhead barely managed to squeak out the words.
'Oh no,' Willow thought, her mind filling quickly with panic. Buffy knew! But she couldn't know. There was just no way that she could know. Was there? She shot another look at the blonde. Nope, she was just curious, that's all it was. Willow almost sighed out loud, so great was her relief. Calm down, Rosenberg. Damn, she'd never been any good at keeping secrets. But today was the day she would learn to, even if it killed her!
"I'm just glad everyone was okay, and that the power came back on before it got dark," Willow added quickly.
Sunnydale had been hit by a massive power outage that day, and was still
reeling from the affects. Fortunately for them, the power had been
restored before it got dark, so the demon activity had been low.
Only a few people knew how lucky everyone really was. If the demons
had been able to come out to play that evening, without any lights or alarms,
or electricity at all, well, Sunnydale would have been an all-you-can-drink
vamp buffet, and there were plenty around who would have loved to take
a bite out of the slayer and her friends.
*Twelve hours earlier, in the basement at Buffy's house*
Willow dumped the wet laundry into the dryer and listened to its dispirited 'splat' with a decided lack of interest. It seemed like all she did these days was clean and study, and some occasional research. Life, she decided grimly, had gotten boring. Sure, there was the occasional big bad to add a little excitement to their nights, but lately it had become all too routine. She thought back almost fondly to the early days, back in high school, when it seemed like everything was intense and exciting, and just, well, fun. Okay, there were some deaths. Jessie and Jenny's deaths in particular still haunted her, and she wouldn't wish that on anyone, but she missed that adrenaline-pumping fear, combined with the feeling that *anything* could happen at any time. The future had been an open door, and you never knew what would come jumping through it.
Nowadays, the most exciting thing that ever happened was when she'd find a forgotten $20 bill in her pants pocket.
Even Spike and Angel, who both used to be good for a death threat or two, were on the straight and narrow path these days. Angel had been in L.A. for a year or so now, fighting the good fight, and apparently he'd been fairly successful. Although she didn't quite buy all of the line that Cordy had been feeding them. For instance, that bit about Mel Gibson actually being a vampire, and partying with them all at some demon karaoke bar, well that one she wasn't buying, not even for a minute.
And Spike, well, he had changed even more than Angel had. Gone was the dashing, sexy, homicidal maniac that they had all grown so accustomed to fighting. In his place was a depressed, angry vampire with a chip in his head.
Sometimes, in one of his fits of rage, he'd tell them that without the chip in his head, he'd have drained the lot of them ages ago. Willow had no doubt that he was telling the truth. Occasionally, when Buffy and Xander were being *particularly* trying, she wished the chip would disappear, just so that Spike could have his return to the 'good old days.' And she could finally get some peace and quiet.
Not that she really wanted anyone to be hurt. She just missed the excitement; that shimmering in the air, and the knowledge that even the most amazing thing she could ever imagine, could happen at any minute. She knew that she was viewing those days long ago through rose-colored glasses. But they were HER rose-colored glasses, damn it! And was there really anything wrong with that?
Damn, she was *so* going to be reincarnated as an earthworm, she thought mournfully. Oh, oh, or one of those really annoying mosquitoes that splatter on the front of your car's windshield. The Goddess was undoubtedly looking down at her and frowning in consternation.
She sighed then, trying to dispel the negative feelings from her mind, and concentrate again on getting the laundry done, so that she could continue with the rest of her chores.
Suddenly she heard a loud, rumbling 'boom', and she jumped where she stood, uncertain what could possibly have caused that type of a sound.
Earthquake? Nope, she ruled that one out easily. The earth just wasn't shaking. Nuclear bomb? She didn't think so. First of all, they weren't at war with anyone, and second, she suspected if it actually had been one, she'd be dead by now.
So what possibilities did that leave? Considering that this was Sunnydale, well, it could be anything.
Well, whatever it was, she had better get upstairs and see if there was anything she could do to help. She headed towards the stairs, but before she had taken more than a step or two, the power went out. 'What the heck,' she thought uneasily, as she was plunged into total and complete darkness.
Now what was she going to do? She reached out blindly, trying to imagine the layout of the room in her mind. Shouldn't the stairway be in this direction? She took a stumbling step forward, and stubbed her toe on the wall.
Whimpering in pain and frustration, she turned slightly to the left. She must have gotten turned around a bit in the darkness. As she headed for the direction that she thought the stairs should be, she heard the noise of a door opening and closing a ways behind her. She had been *completely* turned around, she realized.
"Hello," she called out uneasily, wondering whom it was that was walking down the stairs towards her. Buffy and Dawn were gone for the afternoon, so whoever it was, it wasn't one of them. Was it a neighbor, possibly, coming down to make sure everything was okay? If so, why hadn't they said anything? "Hello," she called out again, a sudden feeling of fear prickling at her skin and quickening her breathing.
Everything was still, and then suddenly she sensed someone behind her, and the next thing she knew, her hands were held tightly in a punishing grip. As she squirmed, trying to release her hands from her captor, she felt the sensation of a sharp object next to her neck.
"Move and you're dead," her captor whispered, sending shivers of terror down her spine. The voice was low and serious, and oddly familiar. Was this Spike? It couldn't be. The chip would never let him do something like this. Would it?
Thoughts swirled around her head, and she was so consumed by them that she forgot to pay attention to what was going on around her. The next thing she knew, her hands were tied behind her back with a strong, silky rope. One of Buffy's scarves, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was tied tightly, and it wasn't giving an inch.
"On your knees, Red," her captor commanded, and the voice confirmed her suspicious. This was definitely Spike she was dealing with. But what kind of game was he playing? Surely he couldn't hurt her. Not with the chip. So what was going on?
"Spike? What are you doing?" she asked uneasily. She followed his instructions, lowering herself awkwardly to her knees. It wasn't an easy feat, with her hands tied behind her, but she managed it, without feeling *too* silly.
"Just giving you what you want, luv. What you need. What we both need," he told her, his voice low, soft, and sexy. The tone of his voice was oddly reassuring. This wasn't the voice of an angry, blood-hungry vampire. This was the sound of someone trying to seduce her, using his voice as a weapon in his arsenal of seduction.
She shivered at the words, and the images that passed before her eyes: her, completely at his mercy, his ice blue eyes drilling into hers, his body pressing hers into the ground as he thrust between her legs. She shuddered at the thought of the excitement, the surprises, and the pleasure and pain that his game would give her.
"What I need? I-I don't know what you're talking about," she said softly, denying the truth of his comments as well as her own feelings of growing excitement and arousal.
"It's the darkness, pet. It gives you an excuse to lose control. Gives us *both* that excuse. We can do whatever we want," he explained, his voice coming at her from all directions as he walked around her, surveying his prize from every angle. She was beautiful in her uncertainty, and he ached to touch her, to take her, and to mar her perfect skin.
"I don't-"
"Sit down," he interrupted, waiting for her to do as he instructed. She sat on her heels now, with her legs folded underneath her. She seemed to act with great reluctance, but Spike could tell from her scent that she was beginning to enjoy his game. Not once had she hesitated more than a moment before following his instructions.
He felt his jeans get even tighter as she sat there before him. She was the essence of innocence and fear and desire, all wrapped up into a beautiful fiery package. And until the lights came back on, she was all his. He smiled smugly at his good fortune.
"Okay, pet, here are the rules. First rule, you do what I tell you to do. Second rule, I do whatever I want to. Follow the rules," he added, his voice sultry and sexy, "and I don't leave any permanent scars or marks. Disobey me, and I make no promises." The last sentence he whispered into her ear, the words and the tone both making her shiver slightly. Whether it was fear or desire that caused her to shiver, she really couldn't be sure.
The darkness and his voice were the only things that were real to Willow. A small window in the corner of the basement let in a small sliver of light, and as her eyes began to adjust, she was able to see a bit more of what was going on around her.
The blond vampire walked around her slowly, surveying her like she was something that he'd won at a carnival. His face held a slight smirk, but his eyes were serious. Deadly serious. As she made eye contact, he realized that she could make out a bit more of what was going on around her. It didn't change his plans any, though.
"What do you want?" she breathed, fear and excitement mixing in her voice and her scent.
"I want what you want: a little excitement, a little something to make the day pass more quickly. Life has become too dull lately. Too mundane. You've noticed it, Red. I know you have."
She nodded her head slowly, acknowledging his words. Life *had* become boring. But was this the cure to the problem, or a messy complication?
Spike knelt down beside her, taking her chin with his hands, and forcing her to look up at him. "It's just for today, luv," he reminded her. "We can even use a safety word, if it'll make you feel better. Although I don't suppose it's really necessary. I do something you don't like, the chip goes off and the game is over," he added sadly, hoping against hope that she could handle what he chose to give her.
"How far will you go?" she whispered.
"As far as you want," he answered quietly.
'I must be insane,' she thought to herself. ???I'm actually considering this. Hell, I'm looking forward to it.??? Willow could feel her excitement building. Her senses became finely attuned to the world around her, her fingers tingled, her eyes got wide and her pupils were nothing but tiny dots in her luminous green eyes. 'Besides,' she reminded herself, 'If he goes too far, there's always the chip.'
"Apocalypse," she said softly.
He looked at her questioningly, cocking an eyebrow at her.
"My safety word."
She watched as an easy grin spread across his face, and then it was gone. Suddenly the man before her looked harsh and unfeeling. The ice blue eyes she looked up into seemed to be filled with menace and danger. Willow shivered slightly, feeling something cold touch her inside. For the first time in a long time, Spike frightened her.
And the odd thing was, she liked it. She reveled in the feeling, and in the shivers his look produced.
"Stand up, pet," he commanded, and slowly, awkwardly, she did. She stood nervously, feet slightly apart, hands still behind her back, eyes looking unseeingly in front of her.
"First thing we need to do," Spike murmured to himself, "Is to get rid of some of these clothes." Suiting his actions to his words, he took his small pocketknife back out and tested its sharpness against his finger. Assured that it would do the job nicely, he began to cut away at her light green shirt. He slit the arms and shoulders, and then moved down the sides.
"Hey, I liked that shirt!" Willow exclaimed, beginning to wiggle slightly. She stopped moving when Spike stopped his work and stood up to look at her.
"First of all," he said, his voice like a cold hard slap to the face, "Don't *ever* talk to me like that. You will address me as 'Master' from now on, or you will be very sorry. Secondly, stop wiggling, or I *will* cut you, and it won't be MY fault, now will it? And lastly, I can do whatever I want. Remember the rules?" he asked mockingly, staring at her with those cold, hard eyes.
The rules???she dredged her mind back to the 'rules' he had mentioned earlier. She had to do whatever he told her to, and he did whatever he wanted. Hardly seemed fair, she thought, but she *had* agreed to it.
"Fine," she sighed, giving in completely. "But can I take my pants off, please? They were expensive, and I don't have a whole lot of extra money right now," she asked, remembering to add the word, "Master," when he glared at her.
Spike considered her request for what seemed like ages to the redhead, but in the end he acquiesced. He untied her hands for a moment, hoping against hope that she wouldn't choose that moment to have second thoughts and leave him high and dry. With a sense of relief, he helped her as she leaned against him awkwardly, and removed her pants. Now, as she stood before him wearing only her panties and bra, she placed her hands in front of her, waiting for him to refasten the bindings. He wasted no time in doing just that.
Spike walked slowly around the amazing young woman, taking in her soft fiery hair, her pert breasts, short, firm waist, and long slender legs. She had no idea what a beautiful package she was, he knew. The young woman had a startling lack of confidence in herself, and from time to time he had used that fact to manipulate her. He almost felt bad, but he was enjoying himself too much today to feel terribly guilty about it.
'What is he doing?' Willow wondered uneasily. The vampire just kept walking around her, looking at her like she was an employee at a blood bank, with those cold, distant eyes. He couldn't bite her, she knew, but she still felt a small quiver of fear run up and down her spine.
The scent of her arousal, spiced with just a bit of fear, filled the air like a priceless perfume. The blond reveled in the smell and in the uncertain looks the redhead was giving him. "Perfect,' he sighed, unaware that the words were actually said aloud. She was perfect, eager, and his for the taking.
Finally finished with his visual examination, Spike looked around the room for some way to restrain his playmate. His eyes came to rest on a large hook coming down from the ceiling. That would do just fine, he decided, leading the redhead over to the hook. He raised her arms above her head and looped the scarf that bound her hands together over the hook. The makeshift restraint wouldn't last for long, but it should last long enough to do the trick, he decided.
The hook was low enough that Willow could stand comfortably, but still feel slightly stretched. She moved uneasily from foot to foot, trying to find the least awkward way to stand. Finally she found a position that was comfortable, and managed to relax a bit.
She looked over at Spike and watched him scan the room, his eyes searching for something, but she didn't know what. After a moment, he stopped searching abruptly, and began to unfasten, and then take off, his belt.
Willow assumed erroneously that he was going to take off his clothes, but was unpleasantly surprised when he simply examined his belt closely, and then began to swing it lazily in the air.
'Oh god, no, he couldn't be planning on using *that* could he?' she thought, her eyes growing large in her small, pale face. It would *hurt*. But sure enough, he seemed to be preparing to do just that.
Spike watched her growing apprehension with amusement as he flicked the belt, testing its flow and strength. He wouldn't do anything that would go beyond what she was capable of enjoying; the chip would make sure of that. For some reason she didn't seem to remember that fact, but he was certainly cognizant of it. Or perhaps she chose not to remember it, he thought. Maybe thinking about that made the game less exciting for her, so she chose not to. Didn't matter much to him either way.
One last thing to do, he thought, as he walked behind her, smiling as she attempted to turn to face him. He kept his hands on her shoulders, turning her away from him, as he cut away the last of her undergarments, slipping her underwear into his pocket as a memento.
He moved behind her, pressing the length of his body against hers and causing her feet to slip slightly. "Don't worry, pet," he whispered into her ear, the sound of his voice making her shiver, "I'll take it easy on you. You're lucky it's me and not Angelus here with you," he continued casually, pulling his body away from hers and moving back a couple of steps, "He used to whip me until my back was a bloody mess, and then fuck me until I passed out." The sudden scent of fear that followed his words was everything he had hoped it would be.
Willow stumbled slightly, attempting hurriedly to regain her footing. His words terrified her, but also, she was embarrassed to admit, they excited her as well. Logically she knew that he was just trying to frighten her, and that technically she had the power in this situation. If he did something she didn't like, didn't want, then his chip would go off and it would all be over. But another part of her, the part hidden deep inside her, the part that had agreed to this game in the first place, *that* part shivered with anticipation. *That* part was making her knees weak with excitement and the juices between her legs flow with anticipation.
She felt weak with expectation, but when the first hit came, it was not what she expected. Instead of using the belt, he used his hand, spanking her hard on the bottom. She yelped in surprise, and a bit of pain, but then trembled slightly when she felt a cool hand on her bottom, rubbing the scalding hot flesh. His hands were much colder than she expected, and she jumped at the contact. Then, before she could react further to his caress, he hit her again.
He established a rhythm, first a spank, and then a rub or a caress. Before long, each of his caresses was accompanied by a low moan from Willow. She felt like she was on fire, and that every blow brought the blaze higher and higher. Soon she was sweating, a thin sheen of moisture making her skin glisten in the dark.
"That was the warm-up," Spike said, as he stepped away from her and grabbed the belt again. "Get ready for the main event," he added, equal parts of lust and joy in his voice.
"Here it comes, luv," he whispered softly, and then she felt the crack of the belt as it hit her bottom. It hurt, but not as much as she had expected. Was he holding back? Or was she able to handle more than she had expected.
Again the belt bit into her skin, this time hitting her lower on the buttocks. She must be more sensitive there, she decided, because that one had stung! Again and again the blows rained down. He varied the strength and the location of his hits, so she never knew what to expect or where to expect it.
After the first three strikes, she was panting, her skin burning and her vision blurring slightly. After five, she caught her second wind and began to anticipate the strokes, leaning her body into them slightly, searching for the pain. As the blows continued to fall, she felt herself growing moist, a dull ache throbbing between her legs each time the belt hit her soft skin. She wanted to cum; could feel the waves building and building within her, battering for release.
And then Spike stopped.
She was left high and dry, wanting nothing more than to feel that blessed relief of orgasm, but she couldn't do it on her own. Only her ragged breath punctuated the sudden stillness in the room. Was this just a temporary break, a game that he was playing before the next blow fell? Or was he finished? She tried to look over her shoulder to see what he was doing, but a raw jolt of pain from her backside stopped her before she could move more than an inch.
"Don't move until I tell you to," he whispered. She was surprised to hear what might have been a bit of concern in his voice. Or maybe she had imagined it. Everything she heard and felt was strangely distorted by the sound of her racing heart, beating loudly in her ears, and the dull throbbing heat between her legs.
Willow heard clothing rustle behind her, and waited with growing apprehension. She needed him, needed to feel him inside of her, and her need was growing exponentially the longer he waited. Finally, when she thought she could stand it no longer, she felt the head of his cock lightly brushing the flesh between her legs, moving back and forth along the length of her slit.
"Please, Master," she whispered desperately, hoping that remembering proper protocol would stop his teasing.
Spike examined the body of the stunning redhead before him. Her beautiful bottom was criss-crossed with red lashes from the belt. He felt a certain amount of pride that she had managed to hold up so well. He had been gentle. Well, relatively speaking, that is. But she had taken all he had given her, and he suspected that she could have handled much more.
Her brilliant hair was soaked with sweat and hung around her shoulders like a thick red cloak. She shivered slightly; whether from cold, or from desire, he could not be sure. The whispered words, "Please, Master," echoed in his head, and he decided to reward her for her patience.
Spike cut the scarf that kept her hands bound together, and she fell limply to the ground, her knees unable to hold her upright. He bent down, lifting her easily and carrying her to the cot in the corner of the room. Laying her down gently on her side, he knelt down on the floor next to her and looked into her luminous eyes, noting the slightly glazed look they held. "Need a break?" he asked softly, making sure she was okay.
"No, I need you. Inside me," she answered, surprising him. Her eyes devoured his marble chest and large cock with eagerness. He was beautiful, she decided. Not just handsome, not just stunning, but beautiful.
Willow moved slowly, wincing at the delicious pain that radiated from her backside. She had always known that there was a strong connection between pleasure and pain, but this was the first time it had been demonstrated to her so clearly. Finally she came to rest on the floor, on hands and knees, her back facing Spike.
This time there was no waiting, no teasing. The minute that she was still, the blond moved himself on top of her, gripping her hips with a harshness that would leave bruises in the morning. He slipped the head of his cock between her nether lips, and she moaned at the invasion. He was large, much larger than Oz had been. But she worked hard to relax, and that, combined with the constant lubrication her body was releasing, seemed to make things easier.
He used a gentle back-and-forth motion, pulling himself back until he was almost completely out of her body, and then thrusting back in, each thrust gaining him a bit more ground. Soon almost half of his cock was inside her, but she needed more. She waited until he had finished one of his gentle inward thrusts before pushing herself back at him as hard as she could. In one long painful motion, he was sheathed completely inside of her. Her body quivered and shook, and she cried out from the sudden pain, but at least the worst of it was over.
Willow had never felt so full, so painfully, deliciously full. Her legs were cramping, she felt as if she were split in half, her back ached, her arms were so weak that they barely held her head off the ground, and yet she hadn't felt more fulfilled, more "right" in a long, long time. This was what she had needed, wanted, craved. How Spike had managed to see that when nobody else could, she would never know.
Now that he was completely inside her, Spike began to thrust quickly. He moved swiftly in and out of her channel, slamming into her now at varying angles, trying to hit every spot within her with his thrusts. Each time he brushed over her G-spot, she felt her impending orgasm grow closer and closer. Finally, she could feel him quickening his movements even more, and she knew it wouldn't be long.
His fingers reached around to tease her breasts, alternately stroking and pinching them, causing her to cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. His cock brushed that delicious point within her once again, and she came hard, screaming his name as her walls contracted tightly around him. As her muscles grasped his cock, Spike came as well, shouting as he obtained his release and shot his seed deep inside of her.
Exhausted and drained, Willow collapsed underneath the weight of the vampire, falling to her side in an effort to lessen the pain from her behind. "Wow," she said, still breathing heavily, amazed and surprised at the intensity of the orgasm she had just experienced. She wanted to say more, to tell Spike exactly how much pleasure she had derived from what they had done, but she could not find the words.
"I know," he told her, lying down on his side to face her. "I know," he repeated softly, telling her that he understood what she was trying to say.
And then, as if timed by someone from above, the lights came back on. They both blinked repeatedly, eyes trying to adjust to the unexpected brightness.
Willow looked at him, sadness clouding her eyes. "Back to reality, I suppose?" she asked, moving carefully to her feet. She winced slightly, but managed to stand without too much discomfort.
"I'd better get upstairs," Spike agreed regretfully, standing and quickly donning his clothes.
Willow looked around at the tattered remains of her own clothing. Only the pants were suitable to be worn. She quickly put them on, grateful that they were extremely loose fitting. Then she looked again at the clothing remnants on the floor.
"I'll take care of those," Spike offered, quickly gathering the torn clothing and pushing it into one of the voluminous pockets of his duster. He pointed towards the dryer, and Willow's eyes grew wide as she saw the pile of clean clothes sitting there.
Gratefully she pawed through it, looking for a shirt she could use for the quick walk upstairs. Once she made it to her own room, she could re-dress there, and nobody would be the wiser. She chose a large bulky green sweater and quickly pulled it over her head.
"See ya 'round," Spike said, attempting to be casual, trying to play it off like nothing special had just happened between them, all the while knowing that the afternoon had been somewhat extraordinary.
"Yep," Willow agreed, trying to achieve the same casual tone that Spike had set. She watched him walk up the stairs, her eyes following him until he was gone.
The End