Every night, she found a new way to excite him. She fed and fucked with exuberance, relishing everything she experienced. He found delight in her joy, things that had once seemed mundane taking on a new shine. They'd left their mark on Sunnydale already, word of their deeds spreading like wildfire through the demon gossip mill.
Within days, everyone had known about the turned Slayer.
Not much after that, everyone had feared her.
They were fast becoming an undead Bonnie and Clyde, just like Buffy had said she wanted.
Buffy stretched against his body, signaling to him that she was waking. Spike loved the way she did that, loved the way it caused her to rub against him in such a delicious way.
"Evening, my gorgeous girl," he said to her as her eyes fluttered open. "Sleep well?"
"Like the dead," she replied, giggling at her own bad pun.
Spike shook his head, but couldn't help but chuckle. "And what are you in the mood for tonight, pet?"
"I know we just had high school girl last night, but can we have it again? They're so young and tasty. Plus, most of them are idiots, so luring them to their doom—not so hard."
"I'd be more than happy to indulge that whim, baby."
"You indulge my every whim," Buffy told him. "You're total whim-indulging guy. It's one of the things I love about you."
Buffy didn't realize what she'd said until he was staring at her, slack-jawed. Panic swirled up inside of her, wondering if she'd done something wrong. Spike had told her vampires could care, but was professing love still forbidden in the demon world? Had she upset him? Had she ruined this thing between them?
She knew a part of her was still very much the seventeen year old girl she'd been when she was turned—and that part of her had become very starry-eyed where Spike was concerned. Her demon had redefined romantic for her, but as far as that went, Spike fit the bill. He was a ruthless killer, but to a vampire, it only made him more attractive.
"You love me?" he asked, his gaze holding something Buffy couldn't quite define.
"I…" She turned from him, nervous, and asked softly, "Is that okay?"
"Okay? Baby, it's bloody wonderful."
She looked up then, searching his face for sincerity, and smiling when she saw it. "Really?"
"You have no idea. I… Buffy, I've wanted to find someone to love me for so long, and you… Bloody hell, girl, you're fucking perfect, is what you are."
Buffy's entire face lit up. "So does that mean you love me, too?"
"Sweetheart, I adore you."
With a squeal of delight, Buffy tackled him, deciding their dinner of tasty young schoolgirl could wait.
She looked good in chains.
After they'd fed, Spike had brought Buffy home, where she'd promptly begged him to chain her up. He, of course, had not even thought of refusing.
Now she was face down on their bed, spread-eagle with shackles around her wrists and ankles. It was a glorious sight.
"Tell me what you want now, baby," he said, his voice deep and husky as he ran his fingers down her spine.
Buffy trembled. "Make me scream, Spike. You're so good at it."
His baby loved it rough, and he loved to give it to her.
Drusilla, too, had begged for whips and chains, and while he'd always been up for it then, too, the knowledge that she wanted him to hurt her because it was what Angelus had conditioned her for was never far from Spike's mind. Drusilla had wanted him to hurt her because her sire wasn't there to do it.
Buffy wanted him to hurt her because it made her come until she saw stars. Somehow, he liked that better.
Spike sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand over her cool buttocks, enjoying the way her flesh was already trembling. She'd been wet all night—and been dripping as they'd fed—and Spike had been anxious to get her back to their home and fill her up with his cock.
But then when she'd asked him for the chains, he'd been willing to put off his gratification a little longer. After all, this would make it even sweeter.
He brought his hand down against her ass, making her jump, a cry of surprise coming from her mouth. He liked it when he could startle her with the first one. It put her more on her toes. Figuratively speaking of course.
Spike continued to spank her with his hand, knowing it would do little to truly hurt her, but it was enough to redden her bottom—and start to make her frustrated. The sting would make her want more, yet not truly satisfy her needs.
Sure enough, the longer he struck her with only his hand, the more she whimpered.
He stopped and leaned forward, taking her earlobe between his blunt teeth for a moment before he let go and whispered, "You want something with more of a bite, pet?"
"Please," Buffy replied, moaning as she pushed her bottom up into the air. "You know what I like…"
"I do, but maybe I like leaving you wanting," Spike said as he ran his hand over her back. "Maybe I like you writhing, desperate for satisfaction."
She whimpered pitifully, and the sound made Spike chuckle. "Like a bitch in heat you are, baby. Makes me so damn hard."
He got off the bed, going over to the chest where they kept their small yet growing collection of toys and choosing a small, multi-tailed whip. Again, he knew the blow from this particular one could be made to give only a small amount of pain, just enough to torment the girl.
She wanted him to make her scream. He wanted her to beg for it.
Spike trailed his hand over her bottom before he brought down the whip, smacking her just above the junction of her thighs. She arched towards him, gasping.
"I want harder," she told him, her body tense.
"You'll get harder when I'm ready to give it to you," Spike replied, his eyebrow arched. "Now shut your gob and let me give you a proper spanking."
Buffy responded by turning her head back towards him and sticking out her tongue.
Spike wagged his finger at her. "That's not working on me, missy. I don't care how much you try to piss me off, I'm not giving you what you want until I'm good and ready. Personally, I like slowly making your arse all nice an' red. It's quite lovely really."
Buffy pouted. "But Spike…"
"You keep that up, pet, and I'm going to take you all slow and gentle like. Is that what you want?"
"Please, no…not that, Spike. Not tonight."
"Then you be quiet and let me have my fun."
Buffy turned back around to face the headboard again. Spike knew she was still pouting, but he'd let it slide now since she'd stopped her complaining.
"Such a bossy lil' chit," he said as he brought the whip back down, then trailed it slowly across her skin. "Chained up and still thinks she can get her way."
Buffy whimpered. Spike hit her again.
Spike kept the blows steady, never varying the pace or speed. Her skin reddened, and he knew it stung, but he also knew it wasn't enough to satisfy her demon.
Buffy was panting and writhing, her body tense from frustration. However, her juices continued to seep out onto the bed, and Spike knew for all of her complaining, this was getting her hot.
Time to up it just a bit.
He stayed with the small whip, though now he sped his movements, the whip's tails whistling through the air before smacking her skin with a satisfying crack. Buffy cried out with each blow, her body bucking as the marks on her flesh grew darker.
Still, he'd yet to break the skin, and Buffy had reached the point of desperation. "Spike, please!" she yelled, her whole body shaking.
"What do you want, Buffy?" he asked, still whipping her. "Beg me for what you want."
"The cane…hit me with the cane. Please, Spike. Please!"
How could he turn down such a request? He dropped the whip and grabbed the cane, using it to strike the bound vampire harshly. She screamed as he raised bloody welts on her ass, back, and thighs, her body bucking violently.
"Is that what you wanted?" Spike asked, as he made a particularly hard strike. "Is this what you needed me to do?"
"Yes!" Buffy screamed. "Oh, Spike, yes!"
He smacked her a few more times before he threw the cane to the ground and jumped on top of her, slamming into her soaking pussy in one hard stroke. His skin rubbed against her, irritating the cuts on her flesh, and she moaned, relishing the pain.
She was strangling his cock, spasming from the intensity of the orgasm coursing through her. Spike knew he'd never last long, not like this, and he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up as far as he could, then leaning in to sink his fangs into her neck, tasting her blood as he filled her with his seed.
Her orgasm bled into another and then another until finally he let her go and collapsed over her body, licking her wounds gently. She continued to shake, panting out harsh breaths with useless lungs.
"I love you," Spike murmured against her torn skin. "Love you so much, Buffy."
She sighed in bliss, her limbs limp in the chains. "I love you, too."
Giles wasn't sure why he was surprised the Watchers' Council had sent Kendra to Sunnydale. After all, it was the most active Hellmouth and was therefore in need of an equally-active Slayer, but it surprised him nonetheless.
And now, watching her train with her Watcher, using methods and weapons he'd once used himself to train Buffy, well, all it did was highlight for him just how much his Slayer was gone.
He supposed he should take it as a sign that it was time for him to return to England. Buffy was dead; there was nothing for him here. It was time for him to accept he had fulfilled his duty, and yet, he couldn't seem to bring himself to leave.
Furthermore, upon Kendra's arrival, her Watcher had informed Giles that the Council's orders were that the first thing Kendra should focus on in her new post was to eliminate the tainted Slayer. The words had made him bristle, a part of him crying out at the idea of destroying what was left of Buffy, but he'd forced himself to push those thoughts away.
Buffy was dead. It wouldn't make her any more dead should the vampire using her body become dust. His Slayer—the girl he loved as a daughter—was already dead. Perhaps if Kendra was able to perform this part of her duty now, it could allow Buffy some peace.
He had yet to see her—not in his waking hours at least. Though in his dreams, he saw her every night. Her face danced before him in the dark, demonic ridges marring her youthful face.
Giles had failed her, and for that, he'd never forgive himself. She'd gone out that night because of him, had sought out Angelus because of him. She'd left him a letter before she'd gone, explaining she wanted to get the justice for Jenny he'd been unable to take, to right the wrongs she saw as caused by her teenaged passions.
Because of him, his Slayer was dead, and for that, Rupert Giles could never forgive himself.
IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT POSTINGDue to real life issues (namely, a promotion that's going to give me less free time), I'm going to have to cut back on posting. I'm hoping I can still post once a week, and I'm planning to update this story on Thursdays. Since I'm still not sure how much of my time the new position is going to take up, I can't make any guarantees right now, but I'm hoping to be able to get a chapter out a week. If I can't, or the chapter comes late, please be understanding. Fanfiction doesn't come first in my life, and I have to pay my bills. Do know, however, that I have no intention of abandoning my stories, and I will do everything I can to keep getting new chapters up in a timely manner.
Please review!