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His wide blue eyes followed her warily, until she moved behind him and he could no longer see her.

But he could *feel* her.

She ran her hands slowly down his hips from behind him, edging enticingly near to his aching erection – but not quite touching him.

“I’ve been doing a little research this afternoon, Spike, while you were here waiting for me to decide to let you out of those chains – and I’ve found out some very interesting things – about the Slayer – about *myself*…Did you know…that the most powerful Slayers recorded in history – all seemed to have one seemingly insignificant detail in common?”

He could not respond – could not have even had she allowed him to speak, because of the ever strengthening physical need that was gradually consuming him. It didn’t matter that she was holding him a virtual prisoner in his own body – that she had performed some sort of magic to place him under her control…

*Just who are you soddin’ kidding, mate? You were already under her control!*

He *wanted* her. *Needed* her – desperately.

Still – her next words held enough of a shock to jar him momentarily out of the haze of need that was coming over him.

“They all had a tendency to go for vampires – like I apparently do – and they all had their very own…tamed…vampire…*pet*!”

When Buffy took her hands off of him and moved around in front of him to face him with a bright, expectant smile, Spike’s alarm at what she had said was almost outweighed by his body’s protest at the lack of contact with her.

Still, he managed to shake his head emphatically in denial of her words.

*No,* he insisted in his mind. *No – I’m nobody’s pet!*

But then – why did the idea seem to drive his arousal even further toward an almost unbearable pitch?

“Oh, please!” Buffy dismissed his denial, edging in nearer to him again, one hand resting on his hip and pulling him closer to her, while her other hand slid between them, her thumb applying a slow circular pressure around the head of his erection. “Don’t tell me that’s not what you want!”

Of course – he didn’t.

Buffy rolled her eyes, remembering his predicament, and said a bit impatiently, “Okay, whatever, you can talk.”

“I – I – don’t…” Spike couldn’t seem to get the words out, as she intensified the pressure she was exerting with her expert fingers.

“Spike – don’t bother,” Buffy cut him off, slipping her hand down from his hip to cup one side of his pale, firm bum, giving it a light squeeze that elicited a low groan from the vampire’s lips. “I know you! And I’ve figured it out – I just can’t believe it took me so long!”

Her hands continued their slow exploration of his body, as she lowered her voice, drawing in close to his ear to go on, “All this time – I was so freaked out – thinking that you wanted me – to have me – to *own* me – because, hello? Vampire – can’t really love. So if you wanted me, that’d have to be what you wanted – right?”

“I *do* love you,” he argued weakly, his eyes drifting closed, as forming an actual coherent thought seemed to be becoming more and more difficult.

“Hush,” she warned him sternly, before going on with a soft little laugh, “I was so wrong. What you really wanted wasn’t to make me yours. It was – to be *mine*. It should have been obvious – you followed Drusilla around for a hundred years, catering to her every whim, even when she was an insane, lying, cheating little ho bag!”

Spike flinched slightly, though he couldn’t have told whether it was from the painful truth of her words – or the hard note of possessive anger in her voice.

Buffy’s face broke into a soft smile, as she drew in even closer to him and added in a hushed whisper against his ear, “But not anymore. You proved it tonight. You *know* -- she’s not what you need. *I* am. You say you love me, Spike – I’m all you think about – do you know *why* that is?”

Her soft touch and softer voice, in combination with whatever mystical drug she had given him, making its way through his system, had Spike drifting into a state of mesmerized euphoria, where nothing existed for him but her voice, her hands -- *her*.

She was right.

Bloody hell, she was *right*!

He was *hers*.

He shook his head weakly in response to her question.

“Because,” she answered softly, “I know what it is that you really need, Spike. I know how to be strong enough for you – how to handle you. I’m a powerful woman, and I like to be in control. Angel couldn’t handle that – Riley couldn’t handle that – but you can – can’t you, Spike? It’s what you want – what you need – isn’t it, Baby?”

He shook his head in desperate denial, though the movement was slow and uncertain.

“Okay,” Buffy spoke the single word calmly, thoughtfully, as she stepped back for a moment to regard him appraisingly – and Spike opened his eyes with an effort, unable to disguise the need that was clearly visible there. “You can talk all you want – move all you want…” the Slayer declared with a careless little shrug.

Spike felt the tension of restraint gradually easing from his body – but had no time to react before the Slayer had grabbed him and pushed him forcefully back against the wall, her searching mouth attacking his in an intense, hungry kiss – which he found himself returning, almost in spite of himself.

Buffy drew back to meet his eyes again, her own glittering and dark with desire. “Make me stop,” she challenged him in a breathless whisper. “If you want to…” And she moved in on him again, her hands running over his body almost frantically as her tongue invaded his mouth.

And he did not make her stop. He did not even try.

Spike returned her kiss, leaning forward away from the wall and moving to put his arms around her – until she caught his wrists, pressing him back against the wall again. Her lips left his as she gave him a wicked smile, then lowered them to his throat, nipping just slightly at the sensitive skin there in a subtle imitation of what his own bite might have been like.

He felt her smile against his skin as his cock pressed harder against her in response to the dominant, possessive move.

“You want this,” she murmured between kisses, thrilling to the way he responded to her touch. “You want to be mine – and I want you – so much – I can make this – so good for you, Spike…” As she spoke, lavishing kisses on his throat, his chest, as she made her case, her hand slipped down to close around his weeping, desperate erection. “I can make you -- *love* being mine…*my* vampire…my pet…”

He let out a low, pleading moan, though neither one of them really knew whether it was her touch or her words that drew the sound from him. Buffy drew back to meet his eyes again, her breath nearly stolen away by the expression of mingled shock and pleasure in his shining blue eyes.

“I can do this, Spike – whether or not you want me to,” she informed him in a soft, serious voice – and then she tightened her hold on his member, then dragged her fist slowly downward, causing the vampire to close his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall behind him with a sharp gasp at the sensation.

She leaned in close to his ear and whispered intently, earnestly, “But I *want* you to want it, Spike…I know you do…and I won’t…*won’t* force you…tell me, Spike…tell me…what…you…want…”

He could not seem to formulate a response, as she released her hold on his erection, dragging a single finger slowly along the underside, turning her finger at the last second to just barely scrape his skin with her fingernail.

The sharp, strangled little cry that Spike tried to hold back told her all she needed to know, as she stepped back away from him, all at once not touching him at all – until he moved forward in a thoughtless frenzy of need to attempt to pull her into his arms. The Slayer caught his arms, pinning them firmly over his head, as she leaned in close to his face, yet kept her body held away from him, holding back the contact he was desperate for by this point.

“Please…bloody hell, Buffy, please…” he gasped out, his longing manhood thrusting into nothing.

“Please what, Spike?” she pressed him, an odd gentleness to her voice. “Tell me what you want…”

Spike was silent for a moment, breathing hard, aware in spite of his position that this question required more than the simple answer it appeared to.

“Yes or no, Spike,” Buffy whispered intently, her wide jade-darkened gaze searching his face. “I can make you mine – yes or no?”

“Please…” Spike gasped out, his eyes closed, his lips parted and trembling with his need for her. “Please, Buffy…*yes*, Buffy, *yes*, please!”

A pleased look of triumph, tempered with just a hint of affection, came into Buffy’s eyes, as she seemed to relent, lowering one of her hands to fist around his erection again, pumping it a couple of times, and drawing another desperate moan of pleasure from his lips.

“Yes, Buffy,” Spike gasped out. “Yes, please, Buffy, yes…”

“Mistress,” she corrected him in a voice that was somehow soft and hard at the same time.

“Mistress,” he repeated, his back arching, thrusting his member toward her as she released him and trailed her fingertips slowly around the tip of his erection, driving him to the very edge of ecstasy…

And then – she suddenly withdrew her hand completely.

Before he even had time to register the loss, she had reached into her pocket and taken out a small strip of rough leather with a tiny buckle on one end – which she promptly wrapped around the base of his erection, pulling it tight and latching the buckle with one swift, fluid motion.

Spike stared at her in shock, then down at the leather cock ring she had just put on him – leaving him mere moments from his climax…and then denying him.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “You can’t be bloody serious…”

“Shhh,” she cut him off, suddenly gripping his hair and jerking his head back hard – and he was quiet, waiting for her next words – which were not long in coming.

“Get on your knees.”

Immediately he obeyed, looking up at her with anxious, longing eyes. There was a certain measure of fear, yes, in being so helpless, at her whim; but there was a part of him, deep down – the same part of him that had openly submitted to her desire to make him her pet – that felt reassured in the fact that he was truly hers…and where he was supposed to be.

“You’ve been a very bad vampire, Spike,” Buffy informed him, walking around behind him again, and he turned his head to follow her as far as he could. Once she was out of his sight, she crouched down behind him, laying a possessive hand across his throat and tilting his head backward against her. “I’m gonna have to take you in line, Baby – teach you to behave yourself…”

In the next moment she stood up – and with another lightning quick motion, Spike found himself sporting a black leather collar to match the ring around his cock – and like that other ring, it was a bit tighter than was comfortable.

“I don’t bloody well think…” he began to object, silenced by a sudden jerk on the leash that he had not realized was attached to the collar.

“You don’t talk,” she informed him imperiously, wrapping the leather around her fist until it was taut, leaving him no room to move away as she crouched down behind him again, “unless I say that you can talk. Is that clear?”

Spike hesitated just a moment, before nodding his acceptance.

It was not as if he had a choice, really.

He had already made his choice.

“Did you sleep with her?”

Spike turned his head to look at her in surprise, but she jerked the leash tighter, nudging his back with her knee in an unspoken order to turn around. It took him a moment to figure out just what she was asking – and then he remembered…the whole reason why this whole thing had started in the first place.

Dru.

“No,” he assured her softly, not even trying to conceal his hurt at the question. “No, Buffy, I love you – I wouldn’t…”

“She said you’d been feeding,” she cut him off, moving in closer to him and wrapping an arm around him, trailing her fingertips lightly down his chest, circling one of them around one taut nipple as she went on, “Now how exactly is that possible…considering that little doodad in your head, Spike?"

A little thrill of fear went through him at the subtle threat in her words, combining with the pleasurable sensations she was creating with her hand on his chest, and he barely managed to get out his reply in a slightly trembling voice, "I -- I didn't -- I mean -- I didn't actually..."

As he attempted to explain, the Slayer rose to her feet behind him, and moved slowly around to look down at him expectantly. Another jerk on his leash silenced him, as she gave a dismissive shrug and remarked, "Doesn't matter. Because it won't be happening again..." She reached a hand down to tilt his chin up, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Will it, Spike?"

He swallowed hard, then shook his head solemnly, bravely holding her gaze.

Her hand under his chin gentled into an affectionate caress up the side of his face. "Good boy," she replied softly. "Because I'd really hate to have to punish you, Spike."

His painfully restrained erection throbbed with the suggestion behind her words.

"Well," she amended with a smirk, as she noticed his obvious discomfort, "any more than I already am, anyway..."

"Bu -- Mistress -- Mistress, please!" Spike found himself openly begging for the release she had all but brought him to. "Please, I need..."


"What you *need*," she snapped, jerking the leash taut so that he could not finish, "is to keep your mouth shut while I'm talking! Understood?"

Spike hurriedly nodded, and she gave him back the slack in the chain that she had taken from him. He lowered his head in submission, obediently waiting for her to go on -- and Buffy could not help but soften to him.

The Slayer crouched down in front of him, gently tilting his face up to look her in the eye again, as she allowed the leash to drop to the ground. Placing a gentle but firm hand at the back of his neck, she drew him in close and kissed him, tenderly, thoroughly, before pulling back to give him a reassuring smile.

"I know what you need, Spike," she assured him, her free hand reaching down to lightly stroke his rock solid, aching member, in a teasingly light touch that only served to make his situation that much more desperate. "And I'm going to be sure that you get it," she promised.

Before he could even begin to feel relief at her words, she added, "But what you need first of all -- is to know beyond all doubt who is in control here. Who is the Mistress -- and who is the pet. Do you understand?"

Spike opened his mouth as if to say something else in his own defense -- and then thought better of it. He nodded dutifully, his eyes downcast again as she took her hands off him and stood up straight again, the leash in her hand again.

"Good," she nodded, satisfied. "You belong to me, Spike," she repeated firmly. "You're mine -- and your first concern should always be *my* pleasure...is that clear?"

Spike nodded again as she moved closer to him, her free hand trailing slowly up her own thigh, raising the short red leather skirt she wore with her hand -- and revealing to him two things -- the undeniably strong fragrance of her arousal; and the fact that she wore nothing at all under the skirt.

Spike's erection became even more uncomfortable as she jerked him closer to her by the leash.

“Do a good job, Baby – make me happy,” she said softly, pulling her skirt up and baring herself to him, “and *maybe* I’ll decide to let you come, too.”

Spike needed no further encouragement.

Immediately he buried his face in her sodden center, lapping at her gently at first. Encouraged by her soft moans of pleasure, he became bolder, increasing the pressure of his strokes as he caressed her with his tongue, worshipping her with his mouth.

After a moment or two, Buffy dropped the leash entirely, holding his head against her body with both hands as she turned them both around blindly, yet remembering that the reversal would put her back against the wall. She needed the support, or she knew that she was going to end up on the floor.

*If I’d had any idea he was this good at this,* she thought through the haze of pleasure that engulfed her, *I’d have done this *years* ago!*

“Spike – oh, Spike – mmm – so *good*…” she murmured, throwing her head back, closing her eyes. “Don’t – don’t stop…”

As she clutched him tightly to her, filling his senses with the sight, scent, taste of her, Spike found himself thinking that it was a very good thing that he did not need to breathe.

But those were not his only senses that were affected by what he was doing.

The aching need in his groin was swiftly becoming unbearable.

He didn’t even realize that his hand had come to rest on his cock, unconsciously seeking some relief from the steadily building pressure – until the Slayer’s body quivered around him, and with a soft cry of completion, she relaxed, releasing his head and slumping back against the wall, gasping as she tried to catch her breath.

As he drew slightly away from her, and his vision came back into focus, he suddenly became aware of his own hand on his desperate erection, attempting futilely to bring about the fulfillment that the leather ring she had put on him would not allow. His eyes darted up to her as he jerked his hand away…

…too late.

The Slayer was smiling down at him, a satiated laziness about her expression – but her eyes were glittering with wicked amusement.

“Unh-uh,” she chided him gently, shaking her head in reproof. “Spike – don’t you know that’s mine?”

Without warning she grabbed the leash and pulled him roughly to his feet, forcing him to scramble to get up quickly so as to avoid being choked by the lead. Before he knew what was happening, she had reversed their positions, pushing him up against the wall, and wound the leash tightly around a little slab of rock jutting out from it – so tightly that he could not move his head at all.

“Did I tell you you could touch yourself, Spike?” she asked him, her voice still soft, yet very dangerous.

“N-no, Mistress,” he gasped out the words, barely able to draw breath through the oppressively tight collar around his neck. “I’m sorry…”

“Put your hands against the wall over your head and cross your wrists,” she ordered sharply. “And do *not* move unless I tell you to – is that clear?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Spike replied without hesitation as he obeyed her command.

Once he was in the position she desired, she drew her body in close to his, her hand reaching down to trail two fingers up and down the length of his weeping erection, almost idly as she spoke.

“You’re mine, Spike. That means every part of you is mine. You belong to me. And that means – that you don’t touch yourself, unless I say it’s okay. The only one who can decide whether you get pleasure – or pain – is me. You make me happy – you’ll be *very* happy. You make me mad…” She shrugged slightly, and the warning glimmer in her eyes sent a little shiver down his spine. “Understand?”

Spike tried to nod, and found that he could not – so he struggled to choke out the words, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good,” she said, her smile softening as she laid a tender caress along his cheek – and then suddenly dropped to her knees in front of him. She looked up at him through dark, hooded eyes, and murmured in a low, throaty voice of sharp warning, “*Don’t* move…”

He tried very hard not to move – but could not help jumping slightly when all at once he found his rock hard member encased in the liquid fire of her mouth. The slight, barely there pressure of her teeth around him stilled his movement instantly, but still, she drew back, crossing her arms as she rocked back on her knees and looked up at him impatiently.

“Do you want me to do this or not?” she asked him matter-of-factly.

“Yes!” he gasped out. “Yes, please, Mistress, please!”

“Okay then…now don’t move,” she repeated firmly, before resuming her work with her mouth – much to Spike’s immense relief.

There was only one problem.

The leather cock ring was still in place.

The expert movements of her mouth on his body, her tongue, teeth and lips driving him to an even greater frenzy, was incredible – but the release that she was making him frantic for would not – could not – happen.

Not until *she* decided to let it.

After a few agonizingly blissful minutes had passed, Buffy withdrew her mouth from around him, playfully tickling the underside of his erection as she looked up at him questioningly.

“You want to come, Spike?” she asked him simply.

“Yes – please…” he responded immediately, desperately, his voice raspy with the restraint of the leather collar across his throat.

“How bad do you want to come, Spike?” she altered the wording slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she brought her thumb and forefinger together around the tip of his erection and pinched just slightly.

The vampire let out a groan that could not be distinguished as ecstasy or agony, as he almost whimpered, “Please – please, I’ll do anything, Mistress…anything you want…anything, just please, please…”

“Please what?” she pressed him.

“Please let me come!” he gasped out, giving her the words she was seeking.

“You know,” she pointed out thoughtfully, as she traced her fingers back up to the base of his erection, sliding one carefully between the leather and his flesh, idly running it back and forth under the ring. “You’re gonna do what I want anyway. You know, what with the whole belonging to me thing…so – that’s not why I’m going to do this for you…”

Her voice softened slightly, becoming almost tender as she unbuckled the ring and let it drop to the floor. “I’m going to do this for you, because I told you that I’d make this good for you – make you happy – if you make *me* happy…” She rose upright on her knees, guiding his throbbing, pulsing cock to wait less than an inch from her lips – her soft, warm breath torturing him as she added in a whisper that he could easily hear, “…and you’ve made me *very* happy…”

She took him in her mouth once more – and swiftly brought him to completion, swallowing down his cool spendings without hesitation, and then rising to unfasten the leash from where it was bound, and take her new pet into her arms, falling to the ground with him as his legs gave out under him, just holding him close to her and stroking his loose blonde curls back from his face as he gradually recovered from the intensity of his release.

When he seemed to be coming back to earth, without a word she gently disentangled herself from his clinging embrace, and walked across the crypt to the bag she had brought with her when she came in, taking out several items of black leather, and tossing them down beside him.

Spike looked at them blankly for a moment, confused, then up at her in a question.

“Put those on,” Buffy instructed mildly as she went to the refrigerator and took out another bag of blood, poured it into a mug, and then turned around to face him calmly – making no effort to hide what she was doing this time as she poured a second tiny packet of fine powder into the mug and stirred it with a spoon.

Her eyes shimmered with a wicked gleam as she smirked at him and explained simply, “We’re going out.”





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