Service Unit
Chapter Twelve – Learning
Buffy stared down at him for a few minutes then sighed. This was apparently going to take a hell of a lot more than a couple of kisses, a hand job, and a babbling declaration of love. She sighed again as she stepped around behind him. One more part of the ownership transfer needed to be done and then she could work on trying to get him to talk. He'd moaned when he'd climaxed, probably without realizing it, so she knew he could make sounds, she'd just have to figure out how to get him to realize he could.
She looked down at his raised backside. He had the lube she'd insisted on smeared all around his anus and it was mixed with some blood, so his trainer had reopened a few of the tears. Buffy clenched her clean hand into a fist then stalked into the kitchen. She washed her hands then wet two clean dishcloths and went back out to the living room.
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He waited, inwardly flinching both times she sighed. Apparently he'd done something wrong… again… and she was getting frustrated with him. Why didn't she just punish him and get it over with? He'd done so many things wrong, even though he hadn't meant to, and any other renter or his trainer would have punished him several times by now. Maybe she was waiting until he was fully claimed before she meted out the punishment he so obviously deserved. That had to be it.
He pushed all thoughts of punishment out of his mind and tried not to tremble as she stepped behind him. He hadn't noticed any of the dildos sitting out waiting for use, but that didn't mean they weren't there. He wasn't allowed to look around, after all, so if they'd been placed somewhere behind him, he wouldn't have seen them anyway.
He tried to relax as much as he could, even though he knew it wouldn't really make that much of a difference. None of the dildos in his toy kit were small or comfortable by any stretch of the imagination. They were meant to cause pain. A few of them had rough protrusions that would tear him and make him bleed, and one had spikes half an inch long that could be extended while the dildo was inside him. Some renters retracted the spikes before they removed the dildo and some… didn't.
He almost jumped when she walked past him and into the kitchen. He heard water running and then she was walking toward him again and he had to fight to keep himself from trembling. He'd had quite a lot of practice at being violated, usually in the most brutal ways possible, and it worried him that he was suddenly so afraid of it.
He wasn't afraid of the pain. He was tired of it, but he wasn't afraid of it. Being in pain was a normal part of his existence and it was her right as his owner to cause him pain if she so chose. He suddenly blinked in realization. He was afraid that she'd enjoy causing him pain. Knowing that she liked hurting him would hurt more than whatever she was doing to him.
He felt a tremble trying to work free and tensed, rigidly holding position. It would make whatever she'd decided to claim his ass with hurt more, but it couldn't be helped. His body was betraying him and he needed to rein it in and make it behave properly. He would endure whatever she was about to do, no matter how much it hurt, and then once she'd fully claimed him, he'd be the very best slave he could be.
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Spike hadn't moved, of course, and she stepped up behind him again and gently laid one of the cloths over his hole. He jerked and huffed out some air in a startled gasp then seemed to relax just a little. She pressed lightly and held it for a few minutes, until the heat had leached out of the cloth, then she lifted it away and tossed it into the crate. She used the other cloth to carefully clean him up then she tossed that one into the crate as well.
She stood behind him, considering her next move, and had to blink back sudden tears. She knew Spike was resilient and a survivor and could adapt to pretty much any circumstance to ensure that survival… and it was patently obvious that he'd adapted to his current circumstances, but… could he un-adapt? Twenty three years was a long time. Twenty three years of pain and torture and rape and who knew what else. Would he ever be able to stop reacting like a slave whenever someone touched him? Or was that so deeply ingrained in him now that he'd never be rid of it even if his normal personality returned? Another flash of anger washed through her at what had been done to the once vibrant and full of life vampire she'd known.
He wasn't restrained, but he still had his wrists pressed together at his low back, like he didn't know what else to do with his hands. Hell, he hadn't been allowed to use his hands for most of his time as a slave, so he probably didn't know what to do with them. She needed to get through to him that she wasn't going to restrain him and that he could put his hands wherever he liked, and if she was ever going to rehabilitate the traumatized vampire, she needed to get him off his knees and back on his feet… literally and figuratively. It looked like getting him to talk was going to have to move to a back burner for a while. There were several other bridges that needed to be crossed first, and if they were ever going to get to the end of the long road ahead, she needed to get with the crossing. She looked over at the command stick on the couch then shook her head. No, she wasn't going to use that thing anymore.
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He slowly drew in a lungful of air as she stepped behind him then held it, preparing himself for the pain. He jerked in surprise and gasped out nearly all the air he'd drawn in when he felt a warm, wet cloth press against his entrance. She held light pressure on it and it felt… nice. It was soothing against his torn and abused flesh and he relaxed slightly.
The wiping with the second cloth was uncomfortable, but not overly painful, and then she stood back from him. He waited, slowly tensing back up as she just stood there. What was she doing? Why had she cleaned him before claiming him? His trainer had never cleaned him. Not once. Whenever he'd been at the slave compound – being claimed, punished, or stored – he'd been left covered in blood, demon spunk, and various other substances, but he'd only been cleaned when it was time to go to a new renter, and that task had been assigned to lesser demons.
She was still just standing there. Was he supposed to be doing something? Had she given a command that he'd missed because he'd been thinking too much again? Was she was waiting for him to obey? What had she commanded him to do? His stomach clenched with fear and shame. He just couldn't do anything right, could he? He'd been getting things wrong since he'd arrived here… disobeying commands, moving without permission, being unrestrained… you'd think he had no training at all!
It was his senses being returned to him… that's what had done it. He couldn't concentrate because there was too much information now, more than he'd had to deal with in years. He'd spent so long being unable to hear or smell, and only able to see when he wasn't hooded and allowed to open his eyes, that all the stimuli were interfering with and overriding his training.
He wished that she'd put the hood and restraints back on. Then he could focus and behave as a proper service unit.
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She knelt beside him and reached up to take one of his hands in hers. She tugged gently until he'd moved his arm down off his back then she slipped her other hand under his shoulder and exerted light pressure until he lifted his torso and resumed the sit-kneel. His brow was furrowed and his expression was confused as his face came into view, and Buffy waited for a few seconds then squeezed his hand and said, "Look at me, Spike." He looked over at her, moving just his eyes, and she asked quietly, "You understand me, don't you? Nod your head if you do." He looked at her for a long minute then tentatively nodded. "Good. Do you know who I am?" Another tentative nod. "Okay, then. I know I did the whole ownership thing, but I'm not going to treat you like a slave and I'm not going to command you with that stick. I know you're going to have some trouble with that at first, but we'll work through it, okay? Can you stand up now?"
His brow furrowed just a little more and he started trembling. Buffy stood up, still holding his hand in hers, then tugged on it and made a lifting motion with her other hand. "Can you stand up?"
He hesitantly rose to his feet, looking at her intently to make sure that's what she'd wanted him to do. She beamed a smile at him as she reached around behind him and grasped his other hand, pulling it around to his front. "Good, Spike! Good!" She squeezed his hands. "I think we've had enough excitement for today. You need blood and rest and I'm completely wiped and my brain is fried from all of this, so how about we call it a day and start fresh tomorrow, okay?"
She let go of one hand then turned and took a step, gently tugging on his other hand as she did. His first steps after her were uncertain, but got surer as she towed him toward her bedroom. She stopped at the threshold and turned to face him, taking his other hand in hers again. "You can come in here, Spike. I'm not a renter, so you're allowed to be in here, okay? You live here now. This is your home. Do you understand?"
He nodded tentatively again and she took a step back, tugging him forward by his hands. She continued walking backwards until they were both fully in the room. She stopped and let go of one hand, motioning around the room as she said, "This is our bedroom. You can be in here anytime you want. Understand?"
He nodded again, not quite as tentatively, and Buffy smiled as she started pulling him toward the bathroom, talking all the while. "Good. Let's get you in the shower and then I'll get you some blood. I know you're not dirty, but I remember how much you like hot showers and I'm guessing that you haven't gotten to enjoy one for a while and it'll help you sleep."
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She was moving toward him and he had to work to keep himself from flinching when she knelt down next to him and reached up to take his right hand. She tugged on it and he lowered it, not quite sure what she was wanting him to do. Her other hand, small and warm, touched his shoulder, but it wasn't giving a proper command. It was exerting upward pressure, though, so maybe he was supposed to sit up.
He slowly raised his torso and sat back on his feet, hoping that's what she'd wanted him to do. He didn't know how she was going to claim his ass if he was sitting on it, but as his owner, it was her decision as to when, where, and how that happened. Maybe she considered what she'd already done to be her claiming and wasn't going to penetrate him because she had no plans to use him that way, which was more than fine with him. No matter what happened to him from here on in, he would die happy if he never had anything else shoved up his ass.
But it was also possible that she was going to wait until he was healed and claim him then. His trainer had waited for him to heal quite a few times before reclaiming him so he could drive into a virgin-tight hole instead of a torn and gaping one. Although his trainer had never claimed him in stages. He shrugged inwardly. It wasn't like he had any choice in the matter, so there was no point in worrying about it. It would be better to focus on what was happening now instead of what might happen in the future.
He kept his eyes averted, making sure to look at his knees, until she lightly squeezed his hand and told him to look at her. He did and she spoke, asking if he understood her and telling him to nod if he did. Of course he understood her. He wasn't stupid. She'd even said as much, but it was apparent that his poor behavior had started to convince her otherwise.
It was also apparent that she expected him to respond to verbal commands, something he'd not been trained to do, but he'd learned to do much stranger things when a renter required it, so he could learn to do this as well. He moved his head in something that could barely be construed as a nod, but it must have been enough because she smiled.
She asked if he knew who she was. That one was easy. His owner. He nodded again.
Then she said that she wasn't going to treat him like a slave and he felt like he'd been punched in the balls. How was he going to please her if she didn't tell him what she wanted him to do? He needed to be commanded. He couldn't even move until he was told to do so and she was going to get angry when he just sat there like a piece of furniture. It wouldn't take long before she'd get tired of his disobedience and get rid of him, he was sure of it, and he wanted to stay here. With her. He wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything.
So he'd have to learn how to serve her and learn fast, even if she didn't use the commands he was used to. He'd picked up his training quickly once he'd been broken and had stopped fighting it, so learning what she wanted from him shouldn't be too difficult, considering he had a much more pleasant incentive this time – namely not spending the rest of his existence being tortured and violently raped by sadistic demons.
She stood up and tugged on the hand she was holding as she asked if he could stand. He didn't know if she wanted him to answer the question or actually stand up, but he gathered all the courage he could find inside him then took a chance and rose to his feet. He checked her expression to see if he'd chosen correctly and warmth bloomed in his chest when she smiled and praised him. He'd done something right! Finally! He would have to pay strict attention to whatever she said so he'd be able to discern what it was she wanted.
He listened intently to what she said next, but it didn't seem that she expected a response of any kind out of him so he didn't move until she turned and started tugging on his hand again. She hadn't told him to do anything, but it seemed that she wanted him to follow her. He took a hesitant step then another, and when she didn't stop or tell him that he was doing something wrong, he walked behind her with a little more confidence.
He stopped when she did and waited for her next command. She told him that he was allowed to be in her sleeping area then asked if he understood. He nodded even as he tried not to be nervous about that, reminding himself that she was his owner and not a renter, so he couldn't be punished for being in this room if she told him he could be.
She led him into the middle of the room then waved her hand around and told him again that he was allowed to be in it. He was starting to get a little irritated at being treated like he was an idiot, but he supposed he couldn't blame her for thinking so. It wasn't as if he'd done much to prove that he wasn't.
Then she started pulling him toward another room, talking about a shower and blood. His stomach cramped in hunger at the mention of the blood even as he shuddered in fear at the mention of the shower.