It’s just a dream, I try to tell myself as the languor of my orgasm begins to fade and the reality of the situation starts sinking in. A really really vivid dream, I gulp at the feel of Spike’s body atop mine, held there by my legs still wrapped around his waist and my fingers digging into his back, and the abundance of sticky moisture between my legs that tells me I’m not the only one recovering from a climax.
You’re recovering. Feels like he’s all good to go again, that wicked little voice inside me chirps up to draw attention to the still hard shaft buried inside me that I’m trying very hard to ignore.
I had sex with Spike, I think experimentally when I just can’t write this off as a dream or hallucination or spell or anything other than what it was. I had sex with Spike.
Oh, my God, I had sex with Spike!
And liked it, the voice I dub bad Buffy adds with glee.
Oh, my God I did!
"Bloody hell," Spike growls suddenly.
I’m jerked rather violently from my thoughts by him very unexpectedly removing my clinging limbs from his body, pulling his length from me and moving off the bed. The sudden emptiness causes my muscles to clench and spasm longingly and I whimper at the loss. Eyes I’d had clenched shut to keep myself from seeing the reality of what I’d done pop open to see what’s happened.
"I asked you, I bloody asked you if you were sure," I hear him saying as I sit up and locate him, pacing the cavern and puffing angrily at a cigarette without a stitch of clothing on. "’Is this what you came here for,’ I asked," he inhales a deep draft of smoke and blows it out while stalking to the left. "’Yes,’ you said," his voice goes all high pitch as he mocks my voice. "’Last chance,’ I warned," inhale, exhale, stalking to the right. "Gave you the bloody chance to say no and walk away," puff, puff, tramping back to the left and starting to make me dizzy with the rapid movements and distracting glimpses of his prominent erection which my eyes can’t help but go to with him being all naked. "Did you take it though?" he stops for a second to glare in my direction, pointing his cigarette at me accusingly before drawing it to his lips for another drag and exhalation of smoke. "No," pacing resumes, this time with his hands moving about to accentuate his words and I’m trying to determine if he’s actually talking to me, himself or ranting at the cave. "You wrap your hot lil hand ‘round my cock and put it up in that tight little cunt of yours. You did that," another glare and accusing gesture in my direction. "Not me," he points at himself for emphasis. "I was bein’ all chivalrous and offerin’ to forget the whole thing if you wanted to change your mind. You," he strides furiously toward me and I instinctively shrink back, "took my cock and put it in your pussy," said pussy grows wetter and quivers at those words. "What the bloody hell was I supposed to do, say no thanks?!" he stomps away, giving me a view of his back which I was stunned to see covered with scratches. "But now it’s all my fault, innit," he throws his cigarette butt aside and stalks to the dresser to shake another one from it’s pack.
"I never said - " I squeak as he pauses to light up.
"Didn’t have to, did you?" he interrupts, flicking his Zippo lighter shut with barely suppressed violence and glaring at me through the puff of smoke he exhaled. "Even a nit like me can read your mind when you go all tense like that," his chin jerks toward the area of the bed we’d been laying on and I remember now that I had gone rather tellingly still while I was doing the whole ‘Oh my God I had sex with Spike thing.’ "Too bleedin’ good to be true," the puff, puff, pace routine resumes. "Knew it was too good to be true," looks like he’s talking to the walls again. "Wake up to find you coppin’ feels on me then you make me all crazy with your scent get me goin’ for a slap ‘n’ tickle then remember your self righteous indignation after I’ve gotten you off right and proper," he stalks forward, forcing me to twist around to follow his motions as he throws his cigarette aside, grabs a bottle of some kind of alcohol, removes the cap and takes a swig. "Bloody unfair, it is," he sulks, spinning in my direction again.
"Sorry?" I say a bit sheepishly, trying to soothe this temper I’ve inadvertently caused.
"Should be," he waves the bottle at me then takes another gulp of the liquor. "I didn’t ask you to do this. Not that I’m really complainin’, mind you, best shag I’ve had in years," I amaze myself by being hurt that I wasn’t his best shag ever and feeling the urge to earn that title. "But what bloody good’s that if it’s a one off?"
"I never said it was a one off," I point out, with my eyes running over his body and taking in the continued presence of his arousal with great interest. "I’ve not had a chance to say anything. I was just laying here," I stretch out on my stomach on the mattress and seductively stroke the covers where we’d been laying, "enjoying my afterglow and thinking how I’d had sex with you and liked it when all of a sudden you pull out and go all ranty for no reason."
"Really?" his scarred eyebrow arches skeptically and I somehow manage not to squirm under his searching glance. "So," he slowly recaps the bottle while approaching the foot of the bed, "you don’t regret it?"
Damn, I curse inwardly at his asking that big a question so soon and think carefully about it.
Do I regret having sex? No.
Do I regret feeling good for a change? No.
Do I regret finding myself in this situation with Spike? Not particularly.
Ok, so that wasn’t as hard to work out as I thought it would be.
"No," I give him the answer I’ve arrived at, looking him in the eyes as I say it. "I don’t regret it. I’m kinda surprised myself that it happened," I opt to go with the complete honesty route, "but I don’t regret it."
"Thought you said it’s what you came here for," he reminds, coming to a stop about a foot away.
"Subconsciously, I think I did. Consciously," I scoot over to dangle over the edge of the mattress and pick up the black bag I was reminded about by his words, "I came to give you this."
"What is it?" he shifts his gaze suspiciously to the package I’m now offering him.
"A present," I consider his possible reaction to the collar and shrug a bit self consciously. "Kind of. Just something I got for you."
"You brought me a gift?"
"Not really a ‘gift.’ Just … open it," I can’t think of a way to explain it and settle for throwing it at him.
The bell rattles when he automatically catches the bag and his expression grows curious as he flicks his gaze from me to the parcel in his hands. I find myself feeling a bit awkward as he begins to look into the bag and I pull the sheet over myself as I watch him withdraw the collar. He holds it up with a look I can’t define on his face and gives it a shake to rattle the silver bell hooked to the O-ring at the front of the inch wide black leather circlet.
"It’s a bell," he says slowly when the tinkling sound stops.
"On a nice leather collar," I begin fidgeting with the blankets and thinking it was a really stupid idea.
"So I see," he sits down on the edge of the bed, putting his bottle down on the floor. "Gonna put it on me?"
Confused by the question I just stare at him and the collar he’s holding toward me.
"Huh?"
"It’s rather traditional when you give someone something like this to wear you put it on for them. You gonna put it on me?" he clarifies. "Can’t really fasten it myself."
"Oh," understanding dawns and I blink. "You’re really gonna wear it?"
"That’s the idea, innit?" he asks with an amused slant to his lips and quirk of his scarred brow.
Surprised that he’d agree to wearing something like this without argument, I shift to a kneeling position behind him and take the collar from his hand, letting the sheet fall away as I happily concentrate on putting the item on him.
"You know what this means, don’t you?" he asks almost idly as I thread the leather through the collar’s buckle at the back of his neck, just above the silver chain he wore, slowly tightening it on his flesh.
"Yep. No more sneaking up on me with your unnaturally quiet footsteps," I fasten the collar in place then run my finger under it to make sure it’s not too tight even though I’ve no reason to worry about constricting his air or blood flow. "How’s that?" I ask him his opinion on the fit.
"In the world of domination and submission," he turns to look at me over his shoulder, not answering my question, "things like this declare ownership," he touches a hand to the black leather around his neck. "Masters and Mistresses give them to their slaves to make it clear who they belong to."
Having no idea how to respond to that bit of info I just stare into his blue eyes and lick my suddenly dry lips at the flame I see burning in his gaze.
"I await your command, Mistress," he whispers, that flame spreading to darken his eyes with a wicked desire that made me feel hot and heavy between my legs.
"I’m not your ‘Mistress,’" I protest weakly even as the idea of having him submit to me, obey my every command, makes me shiver inside and out.
"Might as well be, luv," he lifts a hand to stroke over my cheek then tangle in my hair. "I’m your slave," he whispers before pulling my mouth to his.
Those words flood me with warmth as does the loving way his lips move against mine. My hands go to his hair, stroking through the lightly curling locks then drift down to the nape of his neck to absently toy with the black strip of leather now encircling his throat. I deepen the kiss, parting my lips and forcing his mouth open with my tongue, which dives deeply into the opening it’s created to taste the alcohol he’d drunk and the cigarettes he’d smoked during his tirade. My fingers become obsessed with the collar, running over it and the flesh around the neckpiece, rattling the bell and curling under it to pull him tighter to me. All my thoughts center around his words, which grow more and more appealing as they replay in my mind.
"Things like this declare ownership."
"Mistresses give them to their slaves to make it clear who they belong to."
"I await your command, Mistress."
"I’m your slave."
I devour his mouth, pressing myself against his side and back as what he’d said fades away and a single word takes over.
Mine.
He was mine. He was saying he was mine and showing me he was mine and he was mine.
The knowledge intoxicates me faster than the liquor I’d gotten drunk on over a week ago. I pull my mouth away from his and open my eyes to find his shut for once, an expression of sheer bliss softening his features before his eyelids flutter open and he stares at me in askance of why I stopped. A feeling of power and confidence like I’ve never felt before in a situation like this fills me as I maintain eye contact while falling back on the mattress.
"Pleasure me," I demand thickly then lift a foot to bump my big toe against the bell I got him and add, "slave."
A shudder of reaction runs through him at that word and I make a mental note to use it often. He quickly shifts to kneel on the bed next to my hip, staring down at me with electric blue eyes.
"As you wish, Mistress," he drawls submissively before nuzzling his lips against the underside of my jaw.
"Lower," I gasp as he continues to lavish attention on my neck.
Without a word he obeys, moving his mouth to my breasts. I arch upward and thread my fingers in his hair again as he attempts to swallow each mound in turn, sucking on the flesh and rolling my nipples around on his tongue. The cold metal bell rakes over my skin and makes the occasional clacking noise as he moves against me, dragging the thing over me.
"Harder, slave," I demand, once again wanting more than the gentle loving he surprisingly seems to favor.
Instantly I feel the nip of teeth along with the softness of his lips on my skin. I look down to see his cheeks hollow out as he applies strong suction to the left breast he’s been worshipping when I gave my command. His eyes are closed again as he’s focused intently on giving me what I want, licking and sucking and biting at my sensitive flesh until I’m biting my lip to stifle moans and digging the heels of my feet into the mattress as my body bows up toward his mouth.
"Look at me," I order a bit breathlessly, wanting to see those eyes to know what he’s thinking and feeling right now.
His long eyelashes part to reveal the dark, desire filled orbs I wanted to see and he releases my breast with a light plopping sound then shifts his attention to the right mound. The heat of his gaze sears me as he licks his across my chest to draw the tit into his mouth. My own eyes lose some of their focus as he envelops me again, sucking my skin with all his might, applying pressure with his teeth, grinding my nipple between his tongue and palette and all the while watching me as my control threatens to break. Reluctantly I force myself to pull him back, ignoring the way my swollen teats protest at the sudden loss of action.
"Did I displease you, Mistress?" he asks huskily.
"Lower, slave," I command, ignoring his question as we both already knew the answer and pushing his head down my body.
As he obeys he encounters the bunched material of my skirt and nudges it aside with his chin to dip his tongue into my navel.
"Remove it," I tell him.
In no time at all he had the fabric gripped in his hands and was pulling it down my legs then tossing it to the floor. The second that chore’s completed he places his palms on my calves, fingers curling around the limbs, and slides them upward, exerting pressure along the way to part my legs for him to settle comfortably between them.
When he reaches my thighs he drags his thumbs briefly over the crease where leg and pelvis meet then he slides his arms underneath me and brings his hands up to rest on stomach as his mouth comes down. He nuzzles his nose against the tangled curls covering my privates, looking up the length of my body into my eyes as he inhales deeply, nostrils flaring and a growl of satisfaction escaping him at the scent of my sex drenched in both our juices. The fingers of one hand drift down over my abdomen, which is heaving with the force of the breaths I’m taking to try not to come just yet, briefly petting my curls before sliding between my folds and scissoring apart to hold the lips open.
I can tell he wants to look at what his digits have uncovered, but his gaze remains locked on mine in compliance with my ‘look at me’ command. Blindly his tongue flicks out, barely brushing over the wet flesh exposed by his index and middle fingers. A helpless shudder of response runs through me at the airy contact and I roll my hips forward to place myself closer to his mouth. On the next foray his tongue drags up the length of my slit and, though they remain open, my eyes cease to really see anything. He draws a wide perimeter around my clitoris then swirls in on the nub in ever smaller circles until he’s right on top of it. I feel his nose against my bush, the soft hairs being stirred by his unnecessary breaths. His chin is pushing against my dripping hole and a part of me is embarrassed by the fact that his face is growing slick with my juices while the rest is just getting turned on more by the idea of him wet and sticky from the secretions.
"More," I groan, mindlessly starting to grind myself against his face.
Like the good slave he seems eager to be he goes with this new whim, shifting to dive into my pussy with relish. His fingers move to stimulate my abandoned clit while his tongue dips and twirls in my core. I hear him slurping at my juices along with the wet smack of his lips as he moves to change angles so he could trust deeper and flick the very tip of his tongue against my G-spot. My body jerks up toward him and his hand flattens on my stomach, applying pressure to push me back against the mattress and hold me there.
A sound, part pleasured moan part frustrated growl, tears from my throat at the restraint and he makes up for it by going at me with greater ferocity. His fingers alternate between squeezing, rubbing and pulling at my clit while he occasionally withdraws his thrusting tongue to close his lips around my opening and apply suction, drinking from my channel and making it’s walls clench and convulse at the sensations.
He was putting my most erotic fantasy to shame with the reality of his experience and talent in this area. It felt like everything inside me was being pulled to my center when he did that sucking thing. Every movement of his digits and tongue reverberated throughout my system and seemed to touch on every nerve in my body. Then he begins growling and making other, almost purring, noises while he eats me out and each utterance vibrates against my flesh until I’m thrashing beneath him and screaming out my climax.
It just goes on and on, tensing and relaxing then tensing all my muscles with aftershocks, making me clench and convulse feverishly while he laps up every drop of come I spill into his waiting mouth. Finally I can take no more and tiredly push at his shoulders before collapsing in a boneless heap, sweating and panting for breath and shuddering uncontrollably.
"Did I pleasure you, Mistress?" he asks while shifting to stretch out against my side.
"Buffy," I mumble without opening my eyes. "Call me Buffy."
"Did I pleasure you, Buffy?" he rephrases quietly, stroking strands of hair back from my face.
Boy howdy, I think in major understatement as I try in vain to think of a word that can describe what just happened to my mind and body.
"Yes," I recover the use of enough brain cells to answer, opening my eyes to look up into his face. "You pleasured me, Spike."
He practically beams with satisfaction at that revelation and his pleased smile draws my attention to his wet lips and lower face. Amazingly, though I’ve always had a recovery time that Riley had always struggled to keep up with, I feel my languid body rejuvenating at the sight. I lift a heavy arm from the mattress and grab onto the back of his head to pull his face down to mine.
Once he’s within reach I let my tongue dart out to run over his chin, coating my tastebuds with the residue there and identifying it as my come and what could only be traces of his earlier spendings. My body, mind and senses quickly agree that we taste good together – a bit of an acquired taste maybe, but with the definite potential to become addictive. That curiosity satisfied I urge his lips apart and press my mouth hungrily against his, tasting myself again inside the moist cavern of his mouth and on his tongue as it eagerly meets mine. I feel his hardness digging into my hip and am instantly ready, willing and able to go again.
Knowing exactly what I want and feeling no qualms in taking it, I break the kiss and push him onto his back. With the innate agility of my gymnastics or Slayer training, not sure which to really credit for the flexibility of my petite form that comes in such handy when I’m working or in a situation like this, I climb atop him to straddle that erection. I sway a bit unsteadily from the sudden move, not really having gotten that much blood back to my head, and his hands are instantly on my waist to hold me upright.
We share a silent communication when I’ve got my balance back. Me smiling in thanks for the support and he leering in a way that indicated it was his pleasure to be of assistance. Smiling anew at that expression I rise up, position him at my pussy and easily sink down taking him up in me to the root. The fit feels perfect now. My walls stretch over him as if made for his presence and for a long moment I remain unmoving there as I luxuriate in just feeling.
I run my gaze over his body so willing beneath mine. His muscles are shuddering with the strain of waiting for me to make my move and let him come. I briefly admire the way the silver bell lays on his throat and the stark contrast of the black leather collar against his pale flesh before continuing upward. His jaw is clenched and features sharpened with that same strain. His lush lips are pressed into a thin line, his nostrils moving faintly with the breaths he seems to be concentrating on for control. His eyes are the real prize, though, alive with more emotions and sensations that I can name, but I recognize the important ones of love and lust. Seeing that I skillfully flex my muscles around him and bite back a smile at the way his eyelids briefly fall shut and his body tenses even more in response to the internal caress of my pussy on his shaft.
"Talk to me, slave," I order, wanting to hear that voice of his. "D’ya like that?"
"Yes, Buffy," his cock jerks inside me as I lift myself upward with my legs then stop with just the head grasped by my cunt. "I love it."
"Touch me," I demand huskily at that word on his lips.
His hands fly from my waist up to fondle my breasts in compliance with the command and I reward his quick obedience by sliding back down his length. He takes each of my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, holding them firmly then slowly starting to twist them in a clockwise direction. I gasp at that, pussy clenching unbidden as the actions sends sensation shooting straight to my core. Our eyes meet as he keeps turning the nubs until it hurts just a bit then he pulls the areolas outward, wringing a gasp and shudder from me as my chest thrusts helplessly forward to follow the tug of his digits. At that moment he stops pulling and starts twisting the hardened flesh counterclockwise.
"Such pretty little titties," he purrs, flicking his gaze down to watch his hands move. "Ripe li’l handful," he presses his palms to each mound to demonstrate that fact without easing up on his attention to my nipples. "Like that, don’t you, Buffy?" he gives each nub a sudden, sharp pull that makes my whole body jerk in response. "Christ, you’re a sight," he whispers in awe and I watch with heavy lidded eyes as he rakes his gaze over my body. "My golden girl, all spread open for me," I find myself following the direction of his gaze and looking down at my parted, lightly tanned thighs and his pale hips clutched between them.
I lean back and ease up off his length, watching with heavy pants of breath as his cock is slowly revealed to my gaze, gleaming in the candlelight with the moisture from my snatch. I shove my hips down again and watch my neatly trimmed curls mesh with the hairs surrounding the base of his shaft. I repeat the movements again and again, becoming almost hypnotized by the sight until his fingernails scrape over my nipples and snap out of the daze. Shuddering with reaction I lean over him, planting my palms flat on the bed above his shoulders and sliding up off him a bit so I can dangle my breasts over his face.
"Suck ‘em," I demand, thrusting my chest forward to emphasize the ‘’em’ to be sucked.
Instantly he removes one hand from my breast and replaces it with his mouth, sucking the mound roughly into his mouth while his fingers continue playing with my other nipple. All too soon he’s switching to give that nipple his oral attentions and letting his fingers toy with the saliva slickened nub then switching again and again until my hips are pumping and grinding against his in time with the sucking rhythm of his mouth.
Feeling a familiar tightening in my gut, I bolt upright with a gasp, tearing my breasts from his mouth and fingers to concentrate solely on the storm building in my core. I arch backward, moving my hands to the bed behind me for leverage and support. Letting go of all inhibitions I shake my hair back to tumble wildly down my spine then begin working myself toward another orgasm. I push up with a tensing of my thigh muscles, sliding along his shaft until it was in danger of slipping from my grasp, then I thrust back down with a push of my arms to impale myself completely once more, rotating my pelvis in a circular motion that had his tip moving deliciously against my womb. I repeat the process a few times until I can’t bring myself to release that much of him and my retreats become shorter.
I’m aware of him saying things as I ride him, but whole sentences escape my notice. I hear the dirty words I’d been wanting, though, and they spur me on. He groans about my ‘cunny’ and ‘quim’ and it shudders around his cock. He comments on how my ‘titties’ and hair are bouncing and I move harder to make them do it more. He growls that he’s ‘gonna cum’ and ‘flood me with his jizz’ and I want it so bad I can taste it, remembering the faint tang of his semen mixed with my juices when I licked them from his face. He starts demanding I cum with him and I feel him touching my clit.
My head snaps forward, and I gaze at him through slightly unseeing eyes as he plucks and rubs at the raw nub of nerves. I find myself focusing on the bell that’s moving and tinkling against his neck as he starts to move jerkily beneath me, fighting not to spill into me just yet.
"I’m your slave," I remember again.
Mine, I think possessively once more at the replay of his words.
"Mine," I tell him fiercely.
"Yours," he shouts, the declaration of ownership apparently being too much for him as his body bows beneath mine and his seed begins to shoot deep inside me.
Mine, I think with satisfaction as I let go myself, clamping down on his spurting length to milk it of every drop as the cool liquid sends me into a paroxysm of convulsion while I scream his name to the roof of the cavern. Our pelvises pound wildly against each other as our seemingly endless mutual orgasms run their courses. I can’t seem to stop shaking and I’m amazed my spine hasn’t snapped from my seizing muscles and I convulse again at the erotic feel of our copious juices flowing from my pussy to trickle toward my ass and over my thighs and onto his groin.
Sated to the core - heart, mind, body and soul feeling fulfilled and at peace – I fall forward onto his chest and feel his arms wrap around me, hands stroking my hair and back as he speaks hoarsely of love and beauty and poetry and perfection. The words mean nothing as my mind’s too tired to record or recognize them as of yet, but the mere sound of his voices increases my feeling of peace. Tiredly I nuzzle my face against his neck, absently kissing the black leather strip there that had led to all of this, and surrender to sleep, uncaring of the fact that it was early because it had been so long since I’d had a good rest and I knew I’d be getting one of the best ever in his arms now.
He was mine, I continue to think with a smile on my lips and a warmth in my being. The thought reminds me of the things in this world worth living and fighting for and I know I’ll be able to do both now without the hollow detachment I’d been feeling since being brought back. As exhaustion begins shutting my thoughts down I know there are still a great many things to deal with before all’s anywhere near well again in my life, but this felt like a wonderful place to start getting myself back together.
Mine, my heart sighs contentedly as Spike shifts us to a more comfortable position, causing his bell to ring a little as he moves, and I sleep.
~*~
The End
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I know I could write more with this series, but I think this is a good place to end it. Hope y’all enjoyed.
[Reviews - 12]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 4701 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +