Service Unit
Chapter Twenty Seven – Planning
Buffy slowly opened her eyes and turned her head, blinking in confusion and pain. Ow. Big ow. She started to move her left hand to touch the sore place on her head then looked up in surprise when her right hand was pulled along with it. The manacles Dawn had brought for Angel were around her wrists. What the hell? She sat up, her head spinning wildly for a few seconds as she lowered her bound hands, then she jerked sharply when her upper arms touched her breasts, making them bounce slightly. She looked down at herself and her eyes widened when she saw the bright red stripes marking her flesh. How'd that happen? And why am I nearly naked?
Her head was pounding like a rampaging T-Rex was stomping on it; making thinking a little difficult, but she managed to piece together what had happened. Angel… or actually, Angelus… had lied to her and she'd fucking believed him… AGAIN! God! When would she learn? Way to go, Buffy! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
She was about to stand up and do… something… when she heard Angel… no, Angelus… speak from down the hall. Fury ballooned up from her gut and her hands clenched into fists. If you've hurt Spike, you son of a bitch… The balloon of fury suddenly burst, pierced by a sharp needle of guilt. Her shoulders slumped, her head drooped, and her hands went lax. Then it'll be my fault because I let the son of a bitch loose. God, Spike, I'm sorry.
She jerked her head up when she heard Angelus tell Spike to wait right there. His footsteps were silent because of his bare feet, but she could hear him whistling as he walked down the hall. She quickly lay back down and placed her arms above her head, fervently hoping that they were in the same position, then she worked to slow her breathing and relax her body as much as possible. She wanted to spring her consciousness on him as a surprise… right before she tore his fucking arm off and beat him to death with it.
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Liam finished whistling the old Irish folk tune just as he stepped back into the living room. He checked on Buffy, smiling to himself when he realized she was playing possum, trying to fool him into believing she was still unconscious. I can hear your heart racing, you stupid bitch, and smell your anger. Didn't that useless old Watcher teach you anything about vampires? He didn't change his pace as he neared the table, and even started whistling another tune as he acted like he was going to walk right on by. He saw Buffy tense slightly out of the corner of his eye just as he passed her, then he spun, his hand flying down to her head to grasp her hair tight in his fist. He lifted her head and slammed it back down onto the table. She went limp and her head lolled to the side when he released her hair.
He nodded in satisfaction, then reached down and slapped her right breast, enjoying the way it bounced and reddened further. He slapped the left one, then the right one again, then he straightened and walked to the front door. He opened it and leaned out to retrieve the bag he'd left sitting in the hallway. It was heavy and made suspicious clanking noises as he carried it to the couch and set it down. He unzipped it and started rifling through the contents, pulling out a short length of chain with clips on each end. Buffy would be waking up soon, he hadn't slammed her head that hard, and he needed to get her arranged before she did.
He wanted to be able to access all of Buffy's 'fun spots,' so he needed to keep her legs mobile, but he didn't want her to be able to get off the table. He slid her down until half her butt was hanging off the edge then he laid the chain across her belly, wrapping it tightly under the table and clipping it to itself. There was about half the chain's length left unused, and Liam didn't want her hands mobile at all – even bound, she was dangerous – so he threaded the rest of the chain through the table's legs at Buffy's head and clipped them to the manacles around her wrists. That left her arms stretched tautly over her head and her body firmly attached to the table by the chain at her waist.
Liam lifted her legs experimentally, opening them and folding them toward her chest. The manacles around her ankles were a bit of a problem, and the table was too low for him to do anything while standing, but it would be the perfect height if he knelt. He'd have to get a few pieces of specialized furniture installed in the room back at Wolfram and Hart – and he was picturing several fun and exciting pieces in his head – but this would do for now.
His nose wrinkled up as the scent of Spike's spendings drifted up from Buffy's sex. Apparently you used her hard, Little Willy. Look how swollen and slick she is. Liam considered using her himself for a quick bit of relief... it had been quite a while… well, a little over twelve hours… since he'd gotten his rocks off, and he was fit to burst... then he shook his head and set her feet down on the floor, spreading her knees wide so that she was fully exposed. He'd use her all right, but not yet. It just wouldn't be nearly as satisfying if Spike wasn't there to watch. He turned his head and looked at the hallway then back down at Buffy, a calculating look forming on his face. He bent down and turned the table, Buffy's legs falling closed as her feet were dragged across the rug, then he looked at the hallway again. He made another adjustment then re-opened Buffy's legs. "Almost perfect."
He walked back over to the bag and rifled through it again. Buffy needs a little decoration. I brought these for Willy, but I don't suppose he'd mind sharing. He hates them, of course… probably why my demon loved using them so much back in Sunnydale. The alligator clamps bit harshly into Buffy's flesh as he attached them to her nipples and small beads of blood welled up along their edges. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "These haven't been used since Willy was in that wheelchair. He couldn't feel anything below the waist, but these?" Liam flicked them with a finger, watching them wave back and forth. "These he could feel. They made him scream."
He flicked the clamps again then moved around to the end of the table. She was almost too small for the spreader bar he attached to her legs just above the knee, but he made it work. He grabbed it in the middle and used it to lift her legs, pressing it toward her chest as he leaned down over her, still whispering, "My demon used the bar to hold his legs just like this when it'd lay him on the table and fuck him raw. Otherwise the useless things would just flop around and get in the way. Willy hated being fucked like a girl, but having him on his back meant my demon could play with these…" He let the bar rest against his chest and reached toward the clamps, flicking them several times then twisting them sharply. Blood started to leak from around the teeth and dripped slowly down the slopes of Buffy's breasts. Liam leaned closer, her bound feet pressing into his gut, and licked up the blood.
He straightened up, a shudder running through him, then he licked his lips. "Mmmm… that's good. Definitely going to have more of that."
He stood and set her feet back on the floor then moved toward the hallway, turning to eye Buffy critically. Hmmm… the bar is blocking it. He pushed her feet closer together then slid them between the legs of the table so that her thighs were sloping downward. That set the bar just below the centerpiece of his display, sort of underlining it, and he smiled. "Now it's perfect."
As he stepped back over to his bag, he spoke in a conversational tone, knowing that Spike could easily hear him if Buffy had had the stones removed, and if she hadn't… well… then Spike would be surprised, wouldn't he? And surprises were always fun. "What should we do first, Willy?" He lifted a wickedly sharp knife out of the bag and hefted it, admiring the light shining off the blade. "I do miss carving you up, and I've got a new picture I want to try, but..." He looked around the living room. "It does tend to get messy… all that blood leaking out, you know." He chuckled. "Wouldn't want Buffy to lose her deposit, now would we? And then there's all that expensive carpet on the jet to consider. Wouldn't want you to bleed all over that, either."
He put the knife down on the cushion and reached into the bag again, pulling out a short-handled whip. He flicked it against the back of the couch and smiled at the cracking noise. "Hmmm… also fun, but still messy…" He eyed the wall by the front door. "And I think the walls are too thin here to really get into that… the neighbors might notice the noise if Buffy had your voice restored. And while I love hearing you scream, I really don't want to be interrupted if they call the authorities, so that will have to wait, too, I guess. We'll just have to have some good clean fun while we're here and save the messy fun for when we get back to LA."
He set the whip next to the knife then pulled a set of manacles from the bag. "Think the first thing I'll do is just bend you over the couch. I haven't had your ass for ages, Willy-me-boy, and my cock is practically screaming for it." He shifted the manacles to his other hand and reached into the bag again, pulling out a bottle of lubricant. He bounced the bottle in his palm a few times then laid it gently on the back of the couch. "I've got lube this time, too. Yeah, some blood is inevitable, considering I don't particularly feel like taking the time to prepare you, but it just doesn't make things slide very easily, does it? And I want to enjoy this, not rub my cock raw." He turned to look at Buffy's exposed crotch then reached down to give his erection a squeeze. "I've got three tight little holes to stick it in tonight and I want to keep it fit and up to the task."
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Spike listened as Liam walked through the living room. He was whistling, the bastard, and then there was a thud that sounded an awful lot like a head being slammed into a wooden table. Spike flinched. Buffy.
His hands clenched into fists when he heard the rattle of chain and he started to rise to his feet. He was halfway up when his brain kicked in and he chided himself. What are you doing, you useless sod? Hmmm? You planning to stand in the doorway and throw glares down the hall? Fat lot of good that'll do. You need to think for once in your life instead of just jumping in without a plan.
Spike sank back to his knees with a sigh then sat back on his feet, his hands still clenched into tight fists. Thinking. Right. Okay. I can do that. Should probably start by listing the problems to be solved. Liam has Buffy. Big problem. She's most likely unconscious or she'd be kicking his Irish arse all over the flat. Another big problem. My demon's still MIA and I can't overcome Uposs, so unless Buffy commands it, I can't leave this room under my own power. The trifecta of big problems.
Spike closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was itching to get up, to move, to do something, but... he couldn't. He opened his eyes and focused on the end of the hallway. He could hear Liam doing something with the chain, probably using it to secure Buffy in some fashion. Okay. I've listed the cons. Now for the pros, such as they are. Buffy's not Dru. Big pro right there. Yeah, Buffy's in a precarious situation just now, but she's not entirely helpless. She's smart and tough and as soon as she comes to, she'll be working a plan to get out of this. So instead of charging to her rescue – which I can't do anyway, and even if I could it'd likely just brass the girl off... she's not the damseling type – I need to get myself into a position to be able to back her up when she makes her move.
Spike straightened his spine and unclenched his fists then moved his hands from behind his back and rested them on his thighs. Don't know that I'll be able to do much to help, but whatever I am able to do will be a lot easier if Liam chains my hands in front instead of behind me.
He looked down at his hands and sighed again. Of course, I can't act unless Buffy tells me to – which won't happen if she's unconscious – or Liam makes me, and I doubt he's gonna punch himself in the head with my fists. God, I'm useless.
Liam started talking like they were sitting on the couch having tea, but the things he was saying would only be considered polite conversation by a few creatures – demons, mostly... and possibly politicians… or lawyers. So, he plans to rape me instead of carvin' me up or whippin' the skin from my back. Joy. And he's got lube. Wonderful. Won't do much to keep that monster cock of his from tearin' me up, but hey… at least he'll be comfortable. Pillock. Then apparently when he's done with me, he'll move on to Buffy. Spike's eyes widened. That's what I can do! I can keep him focused on me! Let him do whatever he likes to me, keeping his attention away from Buffy for as long as I can. Then she can escape!
With his basic plan formulated, Spike straightened his spine yet again and looked down the hallway, waiting for Liam to reappear. Whatever was about to happen would hurt, yes, but considering what he'd been through in the last two decades, Liam's torture and abuse would be trivial in comparison, something he could easily cope with. During his time in the slaver's dimension, his body had been subjected to horrors far worse than anything Liam had ever done to him, and suddenly, Liam didn't seem to be nearly as scary as he once had.
A familiar smirk settled onto Spike's face. Bring it, ya poofter. I'm waiting.