Service Unit

Chapter Nine – Transfer

"I have to do WHAT to become his owner? Are you crazy? I'm not going to do that to him!"

"It is required for the transfer, madam. If you do not assume ownership, then you will never return him to what he was. He needs you to be responsible for him until such time as he can take over that responsibility. Once he has reached that point, you may perform another ownership transfer and give him ownership of himself, if you like. It is the only way. If you do not, then he will remain a slave."

Buffy looked at the naked vampire currently kneeling in her living room. The trainer had done the tapping and guiding to get him out of her bedroom, and he did seem to be much calmer now, but he still hadn't responded to anything she'd said to him or given any sign that he even knew who she was. He just knelt there, staring at the floor with his arms behind his back, his wrists once again cuffed together.

Buffy sighed. "Fine. I'll do it. If it will help him, I'll do it." She looked over at the demon that was standing next to one of the smaller crates. "And when I do, will I be able to get him to respond when I talk to him? Will he be able to talk back?"

The demon nodded. "If you wish him to respond, madam, he will, although I doubt his responses will make much sense. He is not very bright, you see. It took many repetitions of basic commands and many different punishments for failing to follow those commands before he finally understood what he was meant to do."

Buffy said very quietly, "I swear, you little cretin, if you EVER talk about Spike like that again…" then she found out what color the demon's blood was when her fist flew out and punched him square in his left nose. He landed in a heap behind Spike, a Spike who didn't even twitch as the demon flew over his head. She took a step toward him, her hands clenched into fists. "He's smarter than you are! He writes poetry, for fuck's sake! And he completely understood what you were trying to train him to do, you moron! He was just fighting back the only way he could! He was trying to make training him so hard that you'd get tired of trying and let him go! He managed to escape a Hell God by insulting her enough that she punched him through a door! And he'd have been insulting you with every breath if you hadn't taken his voice!"

XXXX

It took almost everything in him not to duck as his trainer flew over his head, and then he held himself rigid when she started shouting, trying desperately not to flinch.

His terror at being in his renter's personal space and then his relief at being ordered off her bed and out of her room had caused him to not hear anything that had been said. He'd been ordered to his knees and restrained again and that had brought another surge of relief. He was back on familiar ground and knew what he was supposed to do.

But then he'd just been left kneeling there, and the words that had previously washed over him started to stick. He'd been listening intently to their conversation for the last few minutes, and even though it irritated him that they were speaking about him as if he wasn't there, he accepted it because what else could he do? He was a slave, and showing any reaction to the words being spoken would only result in punishment for moving without permission.

The talk of ownership transfer troubled him, as he had no idea what that meant for him since he'd only been owned by his trainer for the whole of his slavery, but he smiled inwardly when his renter defended his intelligence. He wasn't stupid and she'd been right about why he'd acted the way he had during training. It had failed miserably, of course, and they'd finally broken him and had turned him into the pathetic creature he now was.

XXXX

The demon sat up, holding his bleeding nose with one hand while he raised the rest of his hands in supplication. "I apologize, madam, but please understand, I am a slave trainer, one of the best in my dimension, and as such, I am experiencing great difficulty in conforming to your views on the subject. I believe I now understand your stance on the matter and will try to temper my comments to conform to that ideal. But please, could you refrain from causing damage to my person?"

Buffy snorted. "Not a snowball's chance in hell. Like you said, you're a slave trainer, and I'm sure you've used pain as a training tool on Spike, so the next time your mouth drives off before your brain is buckled up, you'll get the same kind of treatment you gave him. Sucks to be on the other side, huh? Now get off your ass and let's get this transfer done."

The demon nodded and stood up, wiping the blood from his nose with a torn bit of his robe. "As you wish, madam." He stepped up in front of Spike, holding the long, black stick in one hand.

"Hang on."

The demon turned to face her. "Yes?"

"You said that you have to transfer Spike's ownership from your employer to me, but how can you do that? Wouldn't your employer have to do that?"

"No, madam. You see, I own him," he motioned to Spike, "and because my employer owns me, he also owns anything I own, but I am able to transfer ownership of my slaves if he approves the transfer, which he has."

"Oh, okay, that makes sense, in a really sick and wiggy way. Go ahead."

The demon nodded then turned and tapped Spike on the hip and shoulder and Spike rose gracefully to his feet, keeping his eyes down until he was tapped on the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes as the trainer reached up and clasped a leather collar around his neck with two hands while another reached down and wrapped around his penis, bringing it quickly to full hardness. The trainer wrapped a leather ring around the base then moved around behind Spike and tapped him on the back of the neck. Spike knelt again and bent forward, pressing his forehead against the floor.

Buffy blanched, quickly swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat as the demon shoved all the fingers on one hand – heavily lubricated at her insistence – into Spike and thrust them in and out nearly two dozen times. Spike barely flinched, and he only tensed up a little, so at least she knew that the pain amplification was really turned off and he wasn't hurting as much as he had been.

The demon removed his fingers then tapped Spike on the hip and ankle, bringing him to a sit-kneel. He stepped in front of the vampire and tapped his bottom lip, thankfully not with the hand he'd just had buried in Spike's ass, and Spike opened his mouth. The demon thrust two fingers into Spike's mouth and Spike started sucking on them. The demon let him continue for a minute or two then withdrew his fingers and reached out to tap Spike on the top of his head then the back of his neck. Spike closed his mouth as he bent forward and raised his backside, once again pressing his forehead against the floor.

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He smothered the smile that wanted to burst forth when his renter threatened to give his trainer the same kind of treatment he'd been receiving during his slavery. Well… not the same treatment, obviously, but similar, he supposed. He sincerely doubted that she could perform most of the acts his trainer had perpetrated on his body. For one, she didn't have the right appendages, and for two, she wasn't as depraved and sadistic as his trainer was. At least he didn't remember her being that way.

He'd been thinking too hard again and had missed the rest of the conversation. A set of taps on his hip and shoulder caused his training to override his thoughts and he rose to his feet, keeping his eyes on the floor in front of his toes. And there was the command ordering him to close his eyes. His trainer only let him keep them open when he wanted to taunt him with whatever torture tool he was about to use, or let him see the size of the cock on the next creature that had been ordered to rape him as part of a punishment.

He felt his familiar leather collar being fastened around his neck while another of his trainer's hands closed on his cock and started stroking and squeezing roughly. What was going on? The reassertion of ownership was never performed in the presence of a renter. It was only done at the end of a lease once he'd been unpacked from his crate at the slave compound. A frisson of fear wormed through him and he wished he'd been listening to what they'd said. Maybe then he'd know what was going to happen to him.

His body didn't need to know what was going on, though, because it responded as it had been trained to, his cock filling and rising from the contact even though it was painful. His trainer wrapped a ring around the base to keep him erect then ordered him into the display position.

He knew what was going to happen next. And he knew it would hurt. It always did. And this time it would hurt a lot more than usual because he hadn't been wearing his plug, so his slightly healed hole was dry and unprepared. His trainer was a rather small demon with a disproportionally huge cock. A cock that would split him nearly in two when the trainer reasserted ownership of his slave's ass by ramming in to the hilt in one brutal stroke. His blood would ease the way for the rest of the pounding he was about to receive until his trainer's acidic semen exploded into him and started burning with an intensity akin to holy water. Thankfully it didn't burn for very long, and didn't cause any permanent damage, but while it was active, he'd be writhing on the floor in agony as it felt like his guts were being melted into sludge.

He took a deep breath and held it, trying to brace himself for the agony that was about to rip through his body. He flinched slightly and his breath left him in a startled gush when he felt fingers enter him instead. Lubed fingers. He tensed in pain as they stretched his abused hole, but the amount of pain wasn't anything near what it usually was. Compared to the pain he usually felt when he was breached, the thrusting fingers were almost a gentle caress.

They'd bumped his prostate for the fifth or sixth time and he was actually starting to enjoy the thrusting when the fingers slid out of him and a few taps commanded him back to a sit-kneel. The trainer stepped in front of him and tapped his bottom lip and he had no idea what to expect next, no idea at all. A normal ownership assertion would have his trainer shoving that massive cock down his throat, fucking his face for hours while his trainer built back up to another explosive climax that would leave him writhing on the floor in agony again while he waited for the acid to stop burning. But since his trainer hadn't taken his ass, he didn't know what was going to happen now, and the not knowing was terrifying.

Two slim fingers slipped into his mouth and he immediately started fellating them. He curled his tongue around them and between them and sucked, just like he'd been trained to do whenever anything was inserted into his mouth. After a few moments the fingers were withdrawn and his trainer tapped on his head then the back of his neck. He closed his mouth and assumed the display position, his mind a roaring tidal wave of confusion and terror as he waited to see what would happen next.