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Warnings: Obviously, if you've read the title and understand the meaning of the word "roleplay", you'll know that this is not a rape fic. It does, however, deal with rape as a fantasy, and employs a lot of rape fantasy/bodice ripper clichés. Woohoo, fun with rape! I'm a terrible person.
Point is, if rape is a touchy issue for you, please avoid this fic. The last thing I want is to make anyone sad.
A/N: Yes, this scenario has been done to death, but I don't think it's been done with this twist before. Initially I wanted to make the twist a surprise, but then this title came to me and I couldn't NOT use it! So, um, spoiler alert! Eheh.
A/N #2: I came up with this idea about a hundred years ago as a future supplement to In Heat. Since I never continued that (I know, I'm lame, no need to rub it in), I incorporated it into the Bunnyverse, ie the series that began with A Bunny In the Oven, became the multichaptered Heart Don't Lie and ended with the sequel At It Like Rabbits.
That said, this piece is self-explanatory enough that it can easily be read as a standalone.
If you must know: Somewhere in some alternate (and incredibly awesome!) dimension, Spike was made human (but! was infused with slayer strength! Just go with it!) and is now happily married to Buffy, with two tween kids (who are out for the night!), an oceanfront house, tons of money (I told you it was awesome!), etc etc...
If you're interested in knowing more about this dimension, start here.
Many thanks to: Sarah Aless for reading this (almost a year ago!) and sharing her thoughts, and Jake at the TSR cbox for immediately recalling Buffy's worst S2 clothing choice ever. (Up for debate, but seriously. Those pants? Hideous.)
"You fiend! You brute! You fiendish brute!" The blushing, corseted maiden struggled winsomely beneath her captor and demanded, "Unhand me at once!"
"Fiendish brute?" The roguish, legendary and sexily dangerous vampire securing her final shackle said, all callous-like, "Don't you think you ought to treat me with a mite more respect, what with you being chained to my bed and all?"
She thrashed ineffectively in his clutches. "I would never deign to 'respect' such a... a dreadful awful devious creature such as yourself! My father is an earl, I'll have you know! An earl!"
"You don't say," Spike said, and stood up to admire his handiwork, knuckle on his chin. "A slayer and an earl-ess. This truly is my finest hour."
"I have no idea what a slayer is but I assure you I am not any such thing!" squawked the 18th century noblewoman inhabiting Buffy Summers' body. "I demand that you let me go this instant or I'll--! I'll--!"
"You'll scream? You'll cry? You'll wiggle even more?" Tickled, he rubbed his jean-clad hard-on so she could see it. "Be my guest, Slayer. Fluff me to your heart's content."
"Oh!" She closed her eyes to the lewd sight and, voice breaking, said, "I told you, I don't know this 'Slayer', I don't know you, I don't know this frightful place and I just want to go home!"
Though the rash side of him wished it was fully conscious Buffy he'd captured, her tearful and decidedly non-slayerish pleading was doing wonders for his libido. Simple fact was, the crowning glory of his illustrious slayer-besting career was currently chained to his bed, helpless, virginal, firecracker hot -- and all his for the taking. He'd be insane not to take advantage.
"Mngh!" Grunting daintily, her dress and hair mussed, face pink with defiance, fear and oh such pretty shame, the powerless slayer vainly struggled to free herself and fuse her knees together so he wouldn't have a view up her skirts. "Mmngh!"
The ghost of a fang pierced his tongue.
"If you want to click your heels, love," Spike said, sitting on the bed to caress one of her naked feet, "you're just gonna have to be nicer to me."
Brow knit, she peered at him. "What do you want me to do?"
Where to begin. Softly, he said, "First? I want you to say 'please'."
Corseted bosom heaving accordingly, she swallowed. "Pl..."
He waited, head a-tilt.
"Please," she breathed. "Please, sir, I beg you."
Sir. Nice. "Beg me for what?"
"Please let me go, I'll do anything you ask!" She thrashed enough to make the bed shake. "Anything but this! Oh, spare me, I beg you!"
"So, you'd rather I sucked the blood out of your veins 'til your heart stopped?"
After a gasp and a wild-eyed doe expression, she made up her mind. "Yes! I would sooner die than be sullied by the likes of you!"
That look of terror paired with feisty spirit, plus the threat of danger underneath it all? Oh yeah. He was sullying her. He was sullying her good. Steeling up, he pried her knees apart and tautened the chains. "Lucky for me, you don't get to choose."
"Please, no! I'm begging you, sir! Have mercy on me!"
"Say 'pretty please'."
"P-pretty please! Pretty please!"
"No worries, Princess, all you have to do is lie there. And try not to faint." Spike climbed up her body. "I hear it helps to think of England."
"I don't understand," she cried, hysterical. "You told me to say 'pretty please' and I did!"
"Yeah, thanks for doing that. Makes me feel all tingly down there." He wedged a pillow under her bottom.
"You... you beast! You scoundrel!" She tried to close her legs as he raised her pink satin skirts. "What are you doing to me?"
He ran his hand up her naked thigh, felt the goosebumps rise. "Everything."
"Please... Oh! Sir! Please don't," she breathed several times, "don't touch me that way."
He feathered his fingertips over her inner thigh, ventured in quiet arousal, "Like this?"
Shuddering, she nodded.
"It..." She tried once more. "It..."
He whispered in her ear, "Makes you feel funny?"
She whimpered and nodded again.
"What kind of funny?"
Breathing out, she shook her head.
"Help me out, love; scale of one to ten. One being the odd funny-bone sort of funny, ten being the hot, deep-down throb that makes you wonder where it all ends." He slowly traced her smooth outer labia. "Pick a number."
"Please, sir... I've never..."
Spike bit his lip. Her 'please, sir's were driving him crazy. "Of course you haven't. You're saving yourself like a proper young lady should."
"Yes! I beg you to take pity on me and spare me this damning humiliation!"
"Let me think." He looked up. "No."
She gave him one more thrash, warm body wiggling against his.
He cupped a hand over her sex and she immediately stilled with a gasp. "You are much too sweet a morsel to let go without a taste."
"A -- a taste?"
Dipping a finger in, he was gratified to discover that Buffy, somewhere under there, was just as turned on as he was. "What's this?"
He held up his shining finger.
"I assure you I don't know--"
He sampled it. "God, I love the taste of Slayer. Don't you?"
Before she could protest, he'd stuck his finger into her mouth. She bit him.
"Bitch!" He backhanded her and held her cheeks. "Bite me again and I'll give each and every one of my flunkies a go at you. Think you can handle three at a time?"
Eyes wide, she said, "No! Please, sir! I -- I'm sorry! I swear on my life I won't do it again!"
"Bloody right you won't." He touched her slick opening again, felt her shiver. "What you don't understand, poppet, is that I'm the best captor you could hope for. All those creepy crawlies could've nabbed you tonight, you think they'd be gentle as me? As kind and considerate? It's lucky I found you before anyone else did. Come to think of it, I deserve a thank you."
"Let's hear it, love. 'Thank you, Spike, for rescuing me from a terrible fate'. Better yet, call me 'Master'."
Buffy squeaked, "Th... thank you... Master?"
"Any time." He slid his finger up her slit, making her quiver. "Tsk tsk tsk. You are sopping wet. D'you know what that means?"
She shook her head.
"It means your body loves this." He whispered, "It means way down deep inside you, someone is screaming, 'Do it, Spike! Make me a woman.'"
He probed deeper, and she yelped.
"I like to think that someone is Buffy Summers." He wormed another finger in. "Are you in there, Slayer?" He cocked his ear toward her. "What's that, love? You want me to show you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams, then make you my immortal slave? Well. That is a smashing idea."
She thrashed again. "Please, sir -- Master -- have mercy on me!"
"Sweet, naïve eighteenth century Buffy," he chuckled, rearranging the chestnut ringlets that framed her face. "The more you beg, the more I want to ravage you. Plus, you do this little hip shimmy that only makes things worse..."
She shut her eyes and dry-sobbed.
"Face it, sweetheart," he said with veiled menace, "you're trapped, all alone with me in a secret room in a forgotten factory where no one can hear you scream, and no one will come to save you. From now on, you're my very own fuck dolly, and I get to keep you 'til I'm through todging every last stretchable orifice in this young, hot, tight little body."
A tear spilled down her temple.
Spike licked it and whispered, "Too much?"
Buffy whispered, "If you dare stop now I will divorce you."
He snickered. He'd known his wife to out-roleplay him when the mood hit, but this was an entirely new level of impressive. "You are good."
"And you are so evil. My god."
With a flattered grin, he got up, jumped on the bed, dramatically fanned out his leather jacket and fell to a kneel between her legs. "Be a good girl now. Open up for Daddy."
"Never! Never! Never! Ne--" He spread her pussy and fastened his mouth over it. "Oh! Oh! What are you--? Ohh! Ohhhhh!"
"Mmmm." Kissing and tonguing her ardently, he slipped a pinky in.
"Ohh! It feels so strange!" Buffy laid it on thick, loving this damsel-in-distress act as much as he did. "So discomfiting! So... Stop!"
"Mm mm," he laughed into her skin.
"Oh! What have I done to deserve this ...Hohh!... this punishment?"
"'Buffy's High School Clothes'," Spike said, peering at one of the boxes his mother-in-law had sent over. "Ooh. Miniskirts and pom poms."
"And paisley, oh my," Buffy said, cutting it open. He was perusing a sparkly notebook. "What are you reading?"
"Your eleventh grade diary. 'A', is that for Angel?"
"Oh my god, give me that!"
He held it out of her reach. "I wanna see if I'm in it."
She relented with an eyeroll. "Knock yourself out. You would be 'S'. Try to skip the 'A's." Giraffe print pants? Really? "What was I thinking?"
"Blah blah puppy love, blah blah treacly gag reflex, dare not speak its name, giant forehead... Here we are: 'Close call with S tonight. Scaryclose. So need to step up my game.'" He flipped the pages, looking for more. "That's not it, is it?"
"What, no 'S is the dreamiest villain ever, darn his sinister attraction, wish I could be his dark bride'?"
"Whoa," Buffy said, recognizing the 18th century-style dress she'd worn one ill-fated Halloween. "Blast from our past life."
Still searching her diary, he complained, "No shameful wet dreams, no chronicles of my witty ripostes? What teenaged girl in her right mind wouldn't find me absolutely--"
Buffy cleared her throat to get his attention.
He turned to see his wife in a dark wig, pressing the Halloween frock over her body. "--irresistible," he finished under his breath.
"Remember me?" she said, lip curling coquettishly.
Suddenly, her husband was his old, evil self again. Nostrils flaring, he dropped the book and stepped forward. "Put it on."
"Oh! Ohhh!" She bit back a 'more, harder, now now now' and whined instead, "Please, sir, something is happening to me!"
Encouraged by her bucking pelvis, he switched his pinky for his middle finger and sucked on her clitoris.
Thank god he knew her so well. "Please, hohhh, Master Spike, what's happening? I think I'm going to-- to-- tyeah--" And thank god they were home alone tonight: "AAAHUUUUNH!"
Eyes hooded, face sheened with her juices, he teased, "What happened then?"
"I don't...! I don't know! It was just," she managed between hard breaths, "just so...! I feel so..."
"Funny? Strange?" Finger still wiggling inside her, he crawled up her body and licked her neck. "Excited? Hot?"
Gasping for air, she searched his eyes. "What have you done to me, Master Spike?"
Head tilting, lust mounting, he said, "I made you come, baby."
"Is it... a permanent condition?"
"Permanent?" She was adorable, in and out of character. "No, love. Sorry to say."
"But..." She spasmed against his hand. "But it seems to not have stopped."
"Oh." He curved his fingertip toward her g-spot and rubbed his palm on her pussy. "I know just how to fix that, pet."
"I don't understand," she said between gasps. "I thought you meant to hurt me, but this doesn't... It doesn't hurt."
"No?" he whispered in her ear. "How does it feel, Buffy?"
After a moment of agitating herself against his hand, she whimpered guiltily, "It feels so terribly, horribly good!"
"Shhh... Don't be ashamed, baby. Nothing wrong with feeling good. Say the word, and Master Spike can make you feel this good forever."
"Oh Master Spike! Don't stop! Not ever!" Buffy gasped and shook uncontrollably at the crest of her multiple orgasm. "Yes! Yes! Make me your own!"
"Right, so. This might sting." He extracted his fingers, parted her thighs and speared his cock into her.
A shout caught in her throat -- a real one. Instant penetration was still a little jarring, even after all these years.
"What did you think I'd do if you said that? Christ, woman, keep talking like that and I might bite you for real."
She giggled before returning to chastity belt mode. "What is this... this gigantic rod you've forced inside my body? It clearly doesn't fit in such a place!"
"Alright, now you're just asking for it." He sneered, undulating. "Daddy's gonna make it fit."
"But it's not nearly as pleasing as your fingers and tongue!"
"This bit's for me, Princess, until you start to like it. And you will, second or third time round." Dazedly watching her cute little faux-grimaces, he fucked her with deep, slow, firm strokes. "Oh, and yeah, case you were wondering. You're not a virgin anymore. Neither of you."
"O, whatever have I done? Now I'll never marry a baron!"
"And Buffy will never be a teen model," he empathized. "It's a crying shame."
"You're the devil, aren't you?" she accused through crocodile tears. "You seduced me with your magical tongue, and now I'm Satan's bride!"
"Pretty way of putting it." He covered her mouth and doubled his pace. "Now shut your whiny gob while I give the Slayer the seeing-to she deserves."
* * *
"That's right, suck it. Suck it clean like the dutiful slave you are." His eyes rolled up as he maneuvered her head. "Get your master big and thick again."
Mouth full, Buffy pretended to be shocked. "Mm-mfph?"
"What's that, love? What precious spot of yours will I violate next? Hmm, let's see. Eenie, meenie, miney..." As he spoke, kneeling above her, he ran his hand over her mouth, her cleavage, down to her pussy -- all thoroughly employed so far -- and finally thrust his thumb into her heretofore neglected anus. "Mo."
* * *
"Take it! Take my big bad cock, Slayer!"
"Yeah! Yeah, yeah! Yeah! You're the biggest-- baddest-- hunh!"
"Oh fuck, ohhh fuck ohhhhh fuck!"
"Crap, unh, the wall--"
"I'll bloody fix it! God, the way you move when my cock is in your ass..."
"Is this how you like it, Master Spike? Like this?"
"Oh fuck yes. That's exactly how I like it. Bring me off inside you, baby."
"I just... mmmn... wanna please you." Biting her lip, she watched him turn red, shudder and groan.
He fell on top of her, panting. "Fucking hell."
"Did I get slutty too quick?"
"I like to think you would have." He kissed her neck. "That my amazing penis created a monster."
"Let's not talk about the kids now."
He chuckled. "Right. Sorry."
"Also, I'm waiting."
"Master Spike, please don't bite me with your razor-sharp fangs! I'm so young and fresh and my skin is so tender!"
"Oh, you are just--" That snapped him right back into character. With a snarl, he ripped her dress apart with his hands and teeth, exposing her breasts. "I'm gonna suck you dry."
As he growled and nipped at her neck, she couldn't help but moan. "No, no, please Master, anything but that! OH!"
He sucked hard on her jugular vein.
"OH! It smarts!"
"Don't fret, kitten, I'm bringin' you back, stronger and better. We can do this every night until the end of time."
"Every night? You promise?"
"Well... whenever my old lady says it's okay."
With a snort, she asided, "Where is Dru in this scenario?"
"Why?" He wiggled a brow. "Want her to join us?"
"Only in your sickest most perverted fantasies, sweetie."
"Yeah," he agreed, grinning wickedly to himself, and shrugged. "I figure I gave her Angel to play with. Fair trade."
"Yeah, but he wasn't--"
"Fantasy, love." He winked. "Get back in it."
"O Lord, save me!" she wailed. "Save me from the Devil's cold yet diabolically sexy grasp!"
He licked and kissed the hickie he'd made. "Give in to your fate, kitten. Nothing can save you now."
Unable to resist that cue, Buffy snapped her restraints and pushed him up by the forehead. "Except maybe me."
He frowned, then got the message. "...Slayer?"
"Hi, honey. I'm home." With a sly smile, she cast off her wig, tied his wrists together with her chains and flipped him onto his back, forearm crossing his neck, stake she'd sewn into her dress poised at his heart.
"Slayer," he choked, "I can explain."
"Shhh, Princess," Buffy whispered. "Give in to your fate."
"So, you've been in there all along then! Ha, yeah, about that--"
"Shut up." She gave him a rough prod, then threatened, "Nothing's gonna save you from me. And when I kill you? There's no coming back."
"Right." He closed his eyes. "Just do it."
"One little thing before you go."
"What are you...? Oh, hello." She'd mounted his face, her pussy inches from his mouth.
As he strained to reach her with his tongue, she said, "Say 'pretty please'."
* * *
"I think I love you, Slayer," he said, breath sawing out as he toppled onto his back. "Will you marry me?"
"Totally." She snuggled into his shoulder, bit it. "But what if your girlfriend finds out?"
"No worries," he said, fingers combing through her hair, "she'll be leaving me soon, and before you know it, the Queen of Bunny Rabbits will hippity-hop into town, sprog you up and turn me human with a side of slayer strength. It'll all work out in the end."
"Mmm," Buffy murmured, dozing off. "That is the best story ever."
Kissing her head, he smiled and said, "Isn't it, though?"
Chapter End Notes:
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