Chapter 1 – Revelations
Buffy sat in her dressing room, smiling at the words written on the piece of paper held tightly in her hands. The words swam before her eyes as the tears she dare not shed filled her eyes. Her heavy stage makeup had taken almost an hour to apply, and she could not allow tears to waste her efforts.
Her working face covered in greasepaint shone under the stark lights. Her shiny red lips and kohl-rimmed green eyes, stared back at her from the mirror. She wore the marks of her trade well, but she felt no pride.
Looking up at the cracked smoke-stained ceiling, she blinked the tears away. Folding the letter carefully, she hid it inside her purse. He could not see it. He must never know her secret. Scared he would go through her purse when they got back to his apartment; she quickly removed the letter and hid it at the back of her dressing table drawer. She would read it again tomorrow, when she was alone. He was always busy balancing the books in the afternoon, she would have time then.
Nervously she checked her reflection again. He would pick up on any sign of distress, and she was sure she would not be able to lie to him tonight. The letters always affected her this way, and she was determined he find her happy and content.
He didn’t like it when she was sullen. He didn’t like it at all.
Practising her best smile, she glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes to show time, he would be here any moment. He always came to check on her before a performance. He said it was to wish her luck, but she knew it was to make sure she was alone.
She was his. His lover, his possession and his trained temptress to pleasure him in any way he wished. He had created her to please only him.
And she hated him with every fibre of her being.
The sound of footsteps alerted her to his presence. She knew it was him. Every night for three years he made the walk from his office to her dressing room. Every night she would listen for the sounds of his footsteps with hatred in her heart. Every night he made her feel like the whore she felt she had become.
Turning slowly in her chair, she trained her eyes on the closed door and waited for the handle to turn. A loving smile was painted on her lips as he entered the room.
“Evening Luv” he greeted, his smile warm and tender.
“Hi Spike, come to wish me luck?”
Smiling indulgently at his mistress, Spike replied. “Three years you’ve worked for me pet, you should know by now that we say ‘Break a Leg’ instead of ‘Good Luck’.”
Flustered by his teasing, she merely smiled back at him. He was in a good mood tonight, last nights profits must have been good. He seemed to tease her more and more these days, maybe the club was doing well. With a quick glance at the clock, she noticed she was due to appear on stage any moment. Holding out her hand for her lover to take, she allowed him to hold her fingers within his grasp. Every night he walked her to the stage holding her hand; his actions letting everyone know just to whom she belonged.
She hated it; she wanted to belong to no one.
Before she could gather her thoughts, she was standing in the middle of the stage; the bright lights blinding her vision. She could see none of the patrons of the club past the first few tables. The smells washed over her, slightly turning her stomach. Rot-gut whiskey, home-made gin, cheap perfume and the over-whelming stench of stale humanity assailed her nostrils. Spike might think he owned a high-class joint, but he was wrong.
The small six-piece band started the introduction to the song she has chosen to sing tonight. He had seriously pissed her off last week with his ‘you belong to me’ attitude, and she wanted to get back at him. When she had heard Cole Porter’s latest hit on the radio two days ago, and had moved heaven and earth to find the sheet music. He would be angry and he would take it our on her body, but the words of the song reflected how she felt about their relationship.
The words of the song had touched her soul, and she knew she just had to sing it.
When the only sound in the empty street,
Is the heavy tread of the heavy feet
That belong to a lonesome cop
I open shop.
When the moon so long has been gazing down
On the wayward ways of this wayward town.
That her smile becomes a smirk,
I go to work.
Love for sale,
Appetising young love for sale.
Love that's fresh and still unspoiled,
Love that's only slightly soiled,
Love for sale.
Who will buy?
Who would like to sample my supply?
Who's prepared to pay the price,
For a trip to paradise?
Love for sale
Let the poets pipe of love
in their childish way,
I know every type of love
Better far than they.
If you want the thrill of love,
I've been through the mill of love;
Old love, new love
Every love but true love
Love for sale.
Appetising young love for sale.
If you want to buy my wares.
Follow me and climb the stairs
Love for sale.
Love for sale.
Spike stared at the woman on the stage holding his patrons in the palm of her hand with her beautiful voice. He knew that she was trying a new song tonight, but he had been busy for the last couple of days and had not had time to listen to her practice. As he had sat in his office balancing the books and the holding meetings with his bootlegger, only the haunting melody of the song had penetrated his inner sanctum.
Sitting at the bar staring at her, the words of the song filled his head. Why was she singing about being a whore? He never treated her as a whore. Admittedly he paid her to work in his club. He fed her, clothed her and shared her bed, but he did not pay her for sex.
Did he?
The trailing notes of the melody faded out as the patrons of the club rose to their feet to cheer. Anger filled his soul and he needed to speak to her alone. He needed answers and he needed them now. Straining through the crowd, he made his way to the stage. By the time he reached it she had gone. Pushing his patrons aside, he made his way to her dressing room.
“What the fuck was that about?” he exploded as he thundered through her door.
Smirking, Buffy stared him down. Innocently, she turned the question back on him. “Excuse me? Just what the fuck was what about, and who do you think you’re shouting at?”
Spike’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “You, Buffy. I’m shouting at you.”
Calmly she walked to the door of her dressing room, and closed it firmly. “You don’t get to raise your voice to me, Spike. You should remember that.” Slowly she made her way towards him, stopping only when their bodies touched. “You may fuck me Spike, but you don’t own me.”
Suddenly his hands were in her hair, pulling her head back. “You fucking bitch,” he whispered as his mouth descended on hers. His kiss was neither playful nor gentle. Taking her mouth in a blaze of anger, he dug his lips against hers. For endless seconds she resisted him, keeping her mouth firmly closed against his stabbing tongue. When she didn’t respond, he moved one hand to the rounded cheek of her ass, and pulled her hard against his raging erection. Moving his other hand to her jaw he pulled her mouth open, daring her to resist.
The moment his tongue touched hers, she melted against him. Her hands threaded through his thick bleached hair as she pulled him closer. Her leg lifted of its own accord to wrap itself around his waist, opening her body to him. Spike moved his hand to her raised thigh and pulled her closer against his aroused body. He knew she was as turned on as he, and he ground his cloth-covered erection against her cleft.
His anger drained away as their mutual arousal perfumed the room. “Gotta see it, kitten” he breathed against her lips. “Show me.”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him, nor did she keep him waiting. Extracting her body from his now loose grip, she slowly moved back from him. Her eyes never left his as she gently lifted her dress over her head. Soft silk French knickers, the suspenders holding her stockings in place were her only covering. Tight, high pink tipped breasts swayed before him.
“What do you want to see, lover?” she asked, coyly licking her bottom lip. Gently she placed the fingers of one hand in her mouth, licking seductively at the tips. Her eyes still held his and she could see them darken in lust. Watching her turn herself on was one of the many tricks he had taught her in their time together, and he knew she hated doing it.
When she was sure her fingertips were coated with her saliva, she moved her hand slowly to her breast. Rubbing her own fingers into her swollen nipples, she gasped softly at the sensation and closed her eyes. Her pussy was already wet, and she gave an involuntary shiver as she pressed her legs together.
Spike pounced. There was no other way to describe how quickly he removed her talented fingers to replace them with his mouth. He pushed her back against the door while he devoured her breast. Moving his questing mouth from one nipple to the other, she pulsated under his lips. He had such a talented mouth……..when he chose to use it.
As suddenly as he had started to suck her breast, he stopped.
“You know the rules, luv” he smirked down at her upturned face. He knew she hated doing this, but she deserved to be punished. “Now strip off those pretty knickers for me and push your fingers so far up your hole I can’t see them.”
Still in a sensual shock, Buffy stared at him. She hated when he made her masturbate in front of him, even more so when he wanted her to use ‘toys’, but she knew she had to do it. A fit of pique had made her want to sing that song for some slight that she could not even remember now. He made her so angry sometimes, but the letter hidden at the back of her drawer reminded her why she was doing this.
“Is that what your really want, Spike” she whispered. “Why not let me play with you instead?”
“Maybe later, luv” he whispered back, the smile evident in his voice. “Right now, nothing would please me more than to watch you finger-fuck your tight little cunny.”
She knew she had no choice. He had taught her well how to bring herself off quickly. A few minutes and she would scream her release and then he would fuck her blind.
Stripping the knickers from her body, she moved to sit on the dressing table determined to give him a good view. As she lifted her ass to seat it on the powdered surface, his hands dropped to her shoulders and he lifted her face for his kiss.
“Not that way, Buffy” his voice husky with arousal. “Turn around and point your ass at me. I want to watch you from behind.”
Inwardly she breathed a sigh of relief. If he was behind her, then he could not see her face or the humiliation she felt whenever he asked her to do this for him. Shimming her body for his enjoyment, she turned and bent low over the table, her ass high in the air and her legs wide apart. With the fingers of her right hand, she started to slowly circle her hole, dipping first one finger then another into her tight opening. She was surprised just how wet she was as her fingers easily moved in and out.
Sitting comfortably in her chair, Spike settled down to watch. She had become so good at this, no matter how much she hated it. He watched as her head turned sideways on the dressing table, her eyes closed in ecstasy as she finger-fucked her tight shaven pussy. She would come soon, he knew, and she would be expecting him to fuck her into her next orgasm.
He knew she didn’t love him, but she craved the feelings he brought her when they had sex.
Silently rising from his chair, he quietly kicked off his shoes. She was still finger-fucking her hole, as he released his thick hard cock from the confines of his pants. Stepping out of his fallen pants, he stealthily moved behind her.
“Enjoying that are we kitten?” he breathed against her back. Stoking her spine gently, he could feel the movement of her hand increase as she neared her orgasm. “Enough, Buffy” he told her. “Get your fingers out pet, I want to put something else in there.”
She was almost too far gone to comply. Her legs were trembling and she could feel her toes tingle as her orgasm approached. Why did he want to stop her now? He usually waited until she came by her own hand before he fucked her. What did he intend to do? There was an audible ‘pop’ as her fingers, thick with her own cream, slid out of her channel.
“Suck them” he demanded from behind. “Suck them clean, baby.”
Lifting her slick fingers to her mouth, she sucked them into her mouth. Spike watched her for a few seconds before he aligned his weeping prick with her cunt and pushed home.
She couldn’t stop herself, she exploded around him. As her orgasm held him in its tight grip, he sawed into her cunt hard and fast. With each stroke she pushed back against him. She might hate him, but no one could fuck her like Spike. He was thick and long and knew just where to hit with each stroke. As he stroked in and out harder and faster, she moved her hand between her legs to pinch her clit.
The two lovers came together in a torrent of feeling. Collapsing against her back, Spike placed loving kisses against her neck and shoulders. Buffy was too tired to move. Within the space of a few minutes she had come twice, and she doubted her legs could move.
Spike moved back, removing his dick from her sopping hole. He relished her shivering reaction to his move, and gently slapped her ass.
“Better get cleaned up, pet” the smile evident in his voice.
“Don’t wanna,” Buffy replied, her voice sounding like small child. She had still not moved, and Spike watched his cum seep from her hole as she continued to lean over the desk. He laughed softly as he helped her to stand. Turning her round in his arms, he moved in for a kiss. Her mouth opened like a flower under his, and he relished her reaction. Only after sex did she respond to him with this level of feeling, and he was not going to deny himself the opportunity to kiss her. How he wished she would kiss him like this all the time.
Finally, Buffy broke the kiss as Spike knew she would. Her post-orgasmic haze was fading now, and bitchy Buffy was on her way back to earth. He needed to ask her something while she was still not fully recovered from their love-making. If he was lucky, her mind would still be muddled enough and she would forget to lie.
“Riley told me you got a letter today, pet.” Spike watched closely as her eyes widened in alarm. “Care to tell me who it’s from?”
~~~
Please let me know if you want this fic to continue – no comments/reviews and it will die a natural death.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Please tell me that you are not fed up with historical fiction. If you like it, I will take the story further...after all we all like the Spuffy