The industrial-sized humidifier she'd convinced Giles was a necessary expense really helped cut down on the dankness of the crypt she'd selected for her makeshift, do-it-yourself, slayer-proof sex dungeon.
Why do crypts always have to be so dank?
"A crypt, really?" Angel asked as she eagerly led him by the hand down the winding stairs of carved white stone. "I would have thought you'd want anything besides a crypt, Buffy."
The metal gate and thick double doors made of that same pale stone had been closed and locked behind them, and weeks earlier she'd carried a boombox to the lowest floor and tested the sound-proofing. The crypt, thankfully, was deep enough to ensure that not a peep would be heard in the cemetery no matter how loud Angel made her scream.
And I'll be very disappointed if he doesn't have me screaming at the top of my lungs.
"What do you expect?" she asked as she paused, dragged him down to the step she was standing on, and pulled him down by the lapels of his coat so that she could give him a long lingering kiss. He wasn't warm, of course … he was alive only in her dreams … but the feel of him provided a different sort of heat. When the kiss broke off she looked up at his dark eyes and tapped him on the chest. "You're a vampire, I'm a slayer, and you're about to have me in your clutches. Of course it would be a crypt."
"Whatever you want," he mumbled.
That's the spirit.
She turned on her heel, clenched his hand firmly, and yanked him down the last few steps so that he could see what the battery-powered stands of soft yellow lights illuminated. Long white cloths had been draped on many of the walls to hide the depressing marble tombs, a gigantic crimson rug covered most of the center of the chamber, and one side of the room had been dedicated to making a work-space of sorts.
Racks from which an assortment of pegs bristled had been hammered into the walls, an assortment of very interesting items she'd ordered online and prayed wouldn't be misdelivered to a nosy neighbor sat in orderly rows on two sturdy wooden tables, and several non-standard items of furniture had been secured to the stone floor by metal spikes driven deep into the stone. The other side of the room featured a set of thick, dangling chains hanging from iron staples secured by yet more metal spikes to the ceiling and matching chains and staples on the floor directly beneath. Finally, tucked into the corner of the space was a large, gothic-style four poster bed made of thick, dark wood upon which an assortment of pillows, sheets, and blankets colored in either red or black were heaped.
"Wow," Angel said as he rubbed the back of his neck and took it all in. "You told me that this was something you were setting up, but I had no idea you'd go all out like this."
Buffy bit her upper lip and looked him over. Angel had worn the black collared shirt and snug, tight-fitting slacks that she liked … the ones that showed off his ass when he walked. His shoes and belt were black leather, the silver buckle of the belt was polished to a deep gleam, and as always, he had on his long overcoat.
Everything she was wearing save her high-heeled, strappy black sandals could have fit in one of the pockets of his coat. Heck, the sheer silk panties she'd been wearing earlier in the evening already were in one of those pockets, and soon, she hoped, her little black dress and matching shoes would also be somewhere besides on her. The night hadn't been particularly warm, but the dancing and the appletinis and the knowledge that on the walk home she'd be bringing Angel here had kept her internal thermostat on high.
I'm goddamned dripping.
"You brought all this down here by yourself?"
She laughed, and the sound echoed through the stone walls of the space. "Not exactly something I could ask for help with, lover."
Angel laughed in response, and the deep, throaty rumble of the sound flared something deep inside her. "I guess that's true." He walked over to the far side of the chamber, looked at the furniture crafted of thick wood upon which black leather had been buckled wherever her skin might rub, and he then ran a finger over a few of the implements hanging from pegs and set on the tables. "Buffy …" he said as he turned to her with concern in his eyes.
"You don't have to use them all," she assured him as she rushed over and took his hands. "I mean, eventually, maybe, but not tonight." She pulled him down for another kiss, and she could feel how tense and uncertain he was. "I'll be fine," she assured him. "Slayer-tough, remember?"
"I don't know, Buffy," Angel replied as he rubbed the back of his neck again. "The ropes and the blindfolds in our own home, that was one thing, but this ..." He gestured around. "Are you sure you want all of this?"
"Am I sure?" she asked as she put her hands on her hips. "Do you realize how many hours this took for me to set up? That goddamned bed had assembly instructions written in Chinese … that alone took me days."
"What I meant, is are you sure this is a good idea?"
This is not going the way I'd hoped.
She reached up and rubbed at her eyes for a moment. "You promised me that you would never, ever be all judge-y, Angel. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to open up to you?"
"I'm not being judgmental!" he protested. "I just think that there's a line between healthy therapy and scary therapy, is all I'm saying."
She lowered her hand and looked at him. She imagined her blonde hair, all curled and teased so that a few strands framed her face, looked enticing, and she tried to widen her green eyes and tremble her lips a bit so as to better tug upon Angel's heartstrings. "You just don't get it," she said as bluntly as she felt he could handle. "You get threatened all the time, sure, but not the way I get threatened. Do you know what all those vamps and demons have promised to do to my body? Can you imagine what it's like to have to listen to their lewd comments, or remember them touching me before I could manage to kill them? I've had to listen to fiends and ghouls and things promise to use me in the most foul ways you could imagine since I was sixteen years old, Angel. And then there's … you know …"
"Angelus," Angel said in a flat, angry voice.
She nodded and held his hands more tightly. "You know that I'm happier, that what I've been through doesn't bother me so much, when we do stuff like this every once in a while in a way that makes me feel safe, and when I'm with someone who I love and who I know loves me." She moved closer and pressed a hand against his chest, beneath his coat, so that she could feel the muscles beneath. "It's not every night, and I know you enjoy it, too. Maybe not as much as me, but some … even though you don't want to admit it." She ran her hands lower, imagined what it would feel like if Angel had a heartbeat to quicken at her touch, and trailed her fingers along his stomach until she reached his pants. With a few deft movements she unbuckled his belt, then she unbuttoned his trousers and reached inside until she found what she was looking for. "See," she said as she worked Angel with gentle motions and watched his eyes roll back a bit in their sockets. "You're already getting into the spirit of things."
He moved forward to kiss her, then shuddered a bit as she withdrew her hand. They kissed for a long time, and when it was over, he murmured, "If this is what you want." A shiver ran down her spine as he leaned in close and flicked his tongue against her ear.
"It is, but you're not exactly acting your part," she scolded him. "What can I do to help? Should I make fun of you for being a tight-ass, or not wanting to have any fun, or how much time and money you spend on hair when you can't even see yourself in a mirror?"
He frowned down at her. "Very funny."
She rubbed at his chest again. "You know how annoying I can be … after all, didn't I drag you to the dance floor tonight? And didn't I also make sure that everyone had a good view of you making a fool of yourself out there?" She ran a hand down the fabric covering his crotch and was rewarded by a responsive twitch from what protruded from within. "Do I have to keep this up for a while or are you ready to teach me a lesson?"
"The bed?" Angel asked.
She immediately shook her head. "Maybe later. Much later. Right now I need to work through the accumulated trauma of hearing about the horrible, nasty, disgusting things all those creatures of the night said they'd do to me once they had me helpless."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure, and Angel, promise me something?"
"What?" he asked with a concerned look on his face and a furrowed brow.
"Don't ever ask me again if I'm sure," she informed him in a firm, but not unkind way. "I'm sure, and I don't want to have to re-convince you over and over again. Visits to this home-away-from-home will go on the schedule, like shopping, laundry, or having Xander carve some new stakes, and we'll come down here so that you can do the sorts of things that we've talked about, and I really hope that you and I are not going to need to keep having this conversation."
He grabbed her by the throat, roughly, but not so harshly that she couldn't breathe, then pulled the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The feel of his strong hand wrapped around her neck triggered a pleasurable throb between her legs, he pushed her backwards until her shoulders struck hard stone, and she could feel a slick wetness forming between her legs as her thighs brushed against each other.
Now we're talking.
"This is what you want?" he asked as he yanked her dress down her body so that she could step out of it. He tightened the grip of his hand, bared his teeth, and leaned in close so that his dark eyes shone in the yellow light. The edges of her vision were turning black now, and she reached up and grasped his wrist, not to stop him, but just to feel his skin.
She nodded as best she could under the circumstances. He kissed her then, harshly and roughly, his tongue moving into her mouth not with darting, loving flicks, but powerfully, crushing against the inside of her mouth, owning her. He reached down while he kissed her and twisted a nipple, ran his fingers beneath the curve of her breast, then twisted it again, harder. When he reached his hand between her legs, she moaned mid-kiss while he traced his fingers up her seam.
"You love this," he growled. "Don't you?"
"Yes," she croaked as he eased his grip a bit so that she could get enough air to answer.
"You won't for much longer," he snarled as he grabbed her by the arm with his other hand and pulled her towards the dangling chains. While they walked, not caring if she tore the straps, she pushed one sandal free and then the other. The stone of the floor was cold and slick against the bare soles of her feet, but thankfully their destination let her stand upon the thick fabric of the rug.
Once they were beneath the links hanging from the ceiling, she stood still and maneuvered her wrists and ankles so that Angel could fit the leather-lined steel cuffs around her limbs. Once they were locked with the padlocks she'd helpfully left in place for him to use, he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead that was not at all in spirit with what they were doing, but which she decided she didn't mind. She bit her lower lip as she watched him move over to where a winch had been bracketed to the stone of the wall.
"Just pull the stopper free and it'll turn," she informed him with a note of impatience in her voice as she watched Angel try to figure out how the lever worked.
"Got it," he replied as he rotated the wheel. The links spun through the brackets on the ceiling and floor with a clinking sound, the manacles were drawn ever tighter, and in short order she was standing on her tiptoes with her hands pulled above her head. The chains on the floor kept her stretched tight as a bowstring, and as Angel locked the winch in place, she splayed her fingers wide and gave a few experimental tugs on the bindings. She'd tried them out before, of course, but it hadn't been possible to test them like this.
They worked very well.
A trembling nervousness fluttered in her belly as she realized that she did not have the leverage to even struggle effectively, let alone kick, lower her hands, or do anything to stop Angel from doing whatever he wanted to do. Her breasts, the nipples of which were hard as pebbles, were elongated and stretched by the raised position of her arms, and she could feel her lower ribs protruding beneath her skin. The cuffs around her ankles allowed her to move her feet no more than an inch or two in any direction.
I'm really stuck.
Angel ran a hand down her side, a gesture that resulted in her anxiously twitching in response, and then cupped her sex with one broad, strong palm. She felt as though she was melting into it, and she wanted to beg him to work a bit more energetically in that area. Begging wouldn't do, though, not yet anyway … that would come later. If Angel did his job well.
He removed his hand from between her legs, a gesture that elicited a pouting frown from her, and said, "I love you, Buffy."
"I love you, too," she whispered. This was also breaking character, but a little bit of affirmation didn't hurt. "I'm ready," she told him.
"Me, too," he said. "You know, I've been thinking …"
"Can we talk about whatever it is, later?" she asked as her fingers twitched.
He ignored her and continued, "The two of us are in a good place."
I agree, but later!
Angel continued with blithe indifference to her frustrated need. "We've figured out how to make things work, without me losing my soul, there's no more running out of each other's lives, you're crying a lot less …"
"I've never cried all that much!"
Have I?
Angel grinned at her. "I mean, there's no more Sunnydale, but there's also no more Hellmouth. Things are just … good."
"They are," she admitted as she hung in her fetters and waited for him to get on with it. Angel leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers, which was nice, but which wasn't getting the job done.
He straightened, looked down at her, and smiled. She smiled back, and it struck her that she couldn't remember the last time she had seen Angel so happy. Maybe never, actually. He looked truly …
Wait, no!
His face began to twist into a rictus of pain even before she had begun to scream. "Angel!" she cried at the top of her lungs. "No, Angel, fight it! Angel, stay with me! Stay with me, please!"
He twisted away from her, maybe so that she couldn't see the horrible light she imagined emanated from his eyes as his soul was ripped from him.
She fought the chains with maniacal, desperate intensity as Angel fell to his knees and screamed in pain. He clutched at his sides, then his head, and bent over as if he was about to vomit the contents of his stomach onto the floor. His screams went on and on, and while he screamed she continued to fight against the goddamned chains that kept her stretched and secure between floor and ceiling.
Goddammit, I built this too strong!
When Angel finally stopped screaming, he put a hand out to grab one of the nearby tables. The heavy wood splintered from the force of the grip as he pulled himself upright, and she held her breath and stopped her useless struggling at the sight.
"Angel?" she whispered.
He turned around, leered at her with a predatory, possessive expression that she'd hoped to see on Angel on occasion, but which he'd never quite managed, and now it was her turn to scream. She screamed and shook in the chains as Angelus tilted his head first to one side, then the other, until a series of loud emanating pops resounded in the chamber.
"No, no, no," she cried as she shook her head and twisted her features into a suitable expression of horrified fright.
"Yes, yes, yes, Buff," Angelus said as he turned in a slow circle and whistled in appreciation at the dungeon she'd cobbled together. Angelus had left a wound on her soul that had never quite healed, and this room was supposed to let her be with the man she loved so that she could try to forget about what a monster had done to her.
And now she was at the mercy of that monster.
"Angel, you need to fight this," she urged him. "I know you're in there, or maybe you can hear me, wherever you are, and I need you to come back to me." She bit back a wracking, hoarse sob. "Angel, please."
Angelus removed his coat, hung it from one of the wall-mounted pegs that didn't have a crop, tawse, paddle, or other instrument of discipline hanging from it, and shook his head. "It doesn't work like that, Buff. You know that." He removed his shirt next, and despite her predicament and the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her, she could not help but watch the corded muscles of his back, chest, and shoulders work as he flexed and twisted out of the fabric. "I like what you've done with the place," he said as he slipped off his shoes and socks. "I hope you like it, too, because it's going to be your home for a long, long time. Maybe forever, unless I decide I want to let you out of your chains so I can take you for a walk."
"You bastard," she shrieked as she renewed her efforts to break free. The damned leather and steel were too tight on her wrists and ankles, and she couldn't even get enough slack so that she could effectively yank against the steel links.
Angelus slipped off his trousers and boxers, and her breath caught in her throat when she realized that Angel had actually done as she asked and ran a trimmer over the thatch of black hair that clustered around his sizeable, fits-just-right cock. It was only fair, she'd told him, considering what a bother it was for her to not only shave her legs, but wax between them.
This can't be happening. This was supposed to help me work through my nightmares, not have one come to life.
The man she loved was gone, again, and the demon that lived inside him was now going to take advantage of her in the most debased ways possible. Angelus would use her secret, shameful desires against her … and he'd be able to do all of that because she had been stupid enough to let him. She'd been reckless, she'd been careless, and there was no point in praying because Angelus would only find her desperation to be a source of humor.
Nobody even knows about this dungeon … he's right, he can keep me here as long as he wants, and there's not a thing I can do about it.
Angelus moved closer, ran a hand down the side of her body, and her eyes drifted downward to take in the repugnant sight of the rock-hard state of his arousal.
"Don't touch me," she hissed at him.
"You are going to behave," he admonished her. "Because if you don't, I'm not only going to hurt you, I'm going to find your friends, and I'm going to hurt them, too."
"Leave them alone," she pled. "It's me you want … just me."
"Then behave," he told her in a mocking, pedantic manner as he roughly grabbed her chin and tilted her head so that she was forced to stare up at him. "And do what I say, when I say it."
She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him, and in response, he grabbed her nipple and pinched it far harder than had Angel. The searing bolt of pain flared not only to her brain, but also traced a tingling line directly to her clit, and she couldn't help but part her lips and moan an oh at the cruelty of his touch.
"You liked that," Angelus said. "I knew you would, I've been a passenger all those times you and Angel played these dirty, secret little games." He wrenched her jaw so that she couldn't move and leaned close enough to whisper in her ear, "Now you get the real thing, Buff."
She tried to pull away, but even if he hadn't been holding her face, the chains kept her in place.
He let go and moved towards the tables. She tried to think of something to say, but her words caught in her throat as his hands moved over one item, then the next. He ignored the gags, and the blindfolds, and the clamps, picked up a length of black cloth, and finally settled upon the one item that she'd been truly worried about including in her collection.
Oh no, not that …
Angelus's teeth gleamed yellow in the light as he smiled at her and held aloft a long grey and white feather with a pointed tip. She screamed, he moved towards her with light, quick footsteps, his cock bouncing as he walked, and then he had her jaw back in his grip. Her cry was strangled mid-howl as his fingers tightened on her face. The feather and the length of cloth were held in the same hand wrapped around her chin, and she could feel them press against her skin.
"You love all this, don't you slayer?" Angelus asked as he ran a hand between her legs and danced his fingers against the edges of her sex. She could not help but gasp and try to trap his hand between her thighs, and the realization that this horrid thing that wore the face of Angel could excite her in such a way was a shame more painful than any wound she'd ever taken. "Somewhere along the line," Angelus continued as he teased and stroked at sensitive flesh, "you realized the truth about yourself, that you wanted to be treated like this. Oh, you tried to hide it for a good long while, including from yourself, gave it your best effort to pretend you didn't want what you wanted, but … well … here you are. And here I am."
"You're not the one who was supposed to be here," she said through clenched teeth. "And I'm going to find a way to get Angel back, I swear it."
She hoped that the threat didn't sound as hollow to Angelus's ears as it did to her own.
He laughed at her for a good long while, held her face still while he kissed her mockingly on the cheek, and then he began to work. The blindfold went around her eyes and was then knotted tight behind her head. She saw no reason to fight against it … it would be useless, and besides, she didn't want to see Angelus's face. The soft fabric reached to the top of her forehead and nearly to the bottom of her nose, and not a peep of light shone through the dark material.
She was debating what epithets to hurl at Angelus when the tip of the feather brushed in a circle around one of her nipples.
In all of her planning, all of the excitement of setting up the dungeon, there was one thing she hadn't thought of … slayer senses. Her eyesight and hearing were far more acute than they should have been, as were her nose and tastebuds … and unfortunately given her present circumstances, so was her sense of touch. Tickling, as it turned out, was far more of a torment than she was prepared to accept.
Not that she could do anything about it.
The paroxysms of her laughter became painful within seconds as Angelus worked the tip of the feather in and around each of her breasts, along her armpits, and then up the cleft of her sex. She could imagine the dew of her excitement glistening upon the tip as he worked, and she alternated between laughing and screaming and trying to free her arms and legs as the teasing torment went on for what felt like years.
Eventually, Angelus knelt so that with his off-hand he could pull apart the petals of her slit and dance the tip of the feather along her clit and deep within her folds. The hysterical agony of it was beyond excruciating, and something within her let loose as he cruelly traced the point of the quill in and around the most sensitive spots of her flesh. He was strong, so strong, and between his hands and the chains there was nothing she could do to avoid the torturous ministrations.
She'd been saying please over and over again for she didn't know how long before Angelus finally stopped the tickling. Her throat felt as though it had been rubbed with sandpaper and she could scarcely catch her breath
"Are you ready to do as you're told, slayer?" Angelus asked as she whimpered and swayed in the unyielding steel trapping her in place.
"Yes," she said as she nodded her head. The blindfold was soaked with tears shed during her involuntary laughter and she imagined that her body was red and flushed from the roots of her not-quite-natural blonde hair to the tips of her toes. "No more."
"Just remember," Angelus said as he reached up and began to fiddle with the chains near her wrists. "You think you're going to get your pathetic lover boy back some day … you won't, but never mind that for now … so keep in mind that anything you do to me, you'd end up doing to him, too."
Not trusting words, she merely nodded.
"No teeth," he barked at her so loudly, and so near her ear, that she flinched.
Angelus lowered her wrists from their position above her head, and she reveled in being able to relax and ease the stiffness in her shoulders. Her wrists were still chained together, unfortunately, but at least she was no longer stuck like a snared animal.
She had a feeling what would come next, and thus when Angelus pushed her to her knees, it did not come as a surprise. Thankfully, the rug was thick enough that she didn't bruise herself when she landed. Once she'd settled on the ground with her legs neatly tucked beneath her bottom, Angelus yanked her upright by the hair. She considered trying to fight, but her ankles were still locked to the floor and the tickling had taken a lot out of her. Better to conserve her energy, she decided, as loathsome as this moment was.
"Give it your all, Buff, or your friends will pay the price," he warned her.
Before she could even think of what to say, the thick length of his cock was between her lips. She hollowed her cheeks as she formed a tight o around his member and slurped, suckled, and worked her head up and down the length as far as she could manage. The humiliation was overwhelming, but Angelus was right … she wasn't ready to do anything to him that wouldn't heal once he'd become Angel. Assuming she ever saw Angel again. She closed her eyes behind the blindfold, tilted her head a bit so that Angelus could have a good view of her appearing appropriately defiant, and she felt Angelus tense and shudder as she pleasured him as best she could.
He yanked her away before he could climax, which at least spared her the indignity of that moment.
"Very good," he said as he patted her cheek. She heard him moving about, and a moment later the chains fixing her ankles to the floor had been unlocked. He'd left her ankles locked together, though, and she was trying to figure out an attack that might be successful given her current lack of mobility when he hoisted her up like a sack of laundry and hung her body over his shoulder.
She then had to endure him alternating between tickling and fondling her ass as he walked across the room, gestures which brought about more giggling as he held her in place despite her thrashing.
Angelus opted for the horse, as she called it, rather than the Saint Andrews Cross or the stocks. She felt too broken and dispirited to fight as he bent her lengthwise over the device, stretched her arms along the leather-covered wood of the top, and locked them to the far end of the frame. Although she thought of it as the horse, in point of fact it looked more like an oversized Olympic balance beam … one that was heavily padded along the top, had thick wooden crossbars stretched between the trestles of its legs, and possessed platforms that allowed her to stand with her legs spread wide well above the floor.
In short, it had been custom-made to ensure that a recalcitrant, ornery slayer was bent over in a perfect position to be defiled.
In a matter of minutes, Angelus had unlocked and separated her ankles, refastened them wide apart to the wooden platforms, and secured bands of leather around her ankles, calves, thighs, and upper legs. Once her legs were fixed, he took up the slack in the chain cuffed to her wrists until she was stretched tight. Essentially, she was bent forward at a ninety-degree angle with her legs spread wide and her body pulled along the top of the horse. There was no convenient way to position her head, as she had to either try to keep it upright or let it rest upon the hard, leather-covered wood.
"Nice of you to build this to a height that would let me enjoy you without having to bend or stoop," Angelus said as he tightened a long, thick leather belt over her back to ensure she remained positioned along the top. "That was very thoughtful."
Her eyes narrowed in anger behind the blindfold as she fought and screamed, "Go to hell!"
"Already been there," he reminded her. "You sent me."
She shook in her bindings, tested the straps that bound her legs wide apart, and concluded that Angelus enjoyed both a wonderful view and ease of access to the smooth, bare, spread parts of her that he might wish to use. Her breasts hung conveniently on either side of the horse, her ass and sex were on display, and about the only movement she could manage was to wiggle her bottom … a sight which undoubtedly would only excite him further.
"I think you'll grow to like the time we spend down here," Angelus said in a maddeningly conversational manner as he trailed the bulbous head of his cock up one of her pinioned legs. "I mean, you'll protest at first, but then you'll realize I'm doing to you what you want to have done to you."
She pulled as hard as she could against the chains as the tip of his cock poked and probed at the opening of her sex.
"I wonder how long it will take before you break entirely," he mused aloud as he thrust himself deep within. She was as wet as she'd ever been, a realization that disgusted her, and when he clamped his hands on her hips and began to work inside her with steady thrusts, the throbbing, aching, hot need she felt in her clit overwhelmed her all other considerations.
"You're loving this," he said as he eased himself in and out with lingering, powerful movements.
She curled her toes upon the platform, clenched her trapped hands into fists, and closed her eyes behind the blindfold.
"Admit it to yourself," he said as he curled one hand beneath her waist and began to feel his way towards the top of her sex. "Deep down, you're all confused over which of your feelings are for Angel and which are for Angelus. Do you know why you're confused?"
"Please," she moaned as warm pleasure spread throughout her lower body.
"You're confused," Angelus continued, "because your feelings are for both. You just don't want to admit it."
The glorious feel of him filling, joining with her, was overwhelming her senses. She again moaned, "Please," and she pressed her lower body against the horse in a futile effort to further stimulate her clit. The nightmare of the situation combined with the involuntary reaction of her body to the very thorough and deep fucking she was receiving was causing a titanic, unbearable, churning pressure to build. If she could move forward, even a little bit, and rub herself against the horse … just a few brushes against the leather would do it … she could come, but Angelus had tied her far too well for that. She needed his help, needed him to grant her release, and the totality of his control over her caused a horrid, dark thrill to sink into its tendrils deep into her soul.
She couldn't move in the slightest, so Angelus's powerful, muscular thighs and back made rhythm for them both as he curled his fingers near her sex and steadfastly refused to touch her clit. He was teasing her, she knew that, and yet she still tried to twist her hips towards his hand.
"You had better not come," Angelus said in a raspy, deep rumble that had moaning and biting her lip all over again. "Don't come, or you'll pay for that later."
He bent further over her and his fingers finally rubbed against her clit. He stroked it with surprising tenderness, and she howled and begged and pleaded for him to give her just a bit more. He laughed at both her begging and her useless attempts to yank her hands free.
"I'm going to teach you to obey," Angelus told her as he thrust harder and gave her ass a hard slap that only increased her excitement. "Starting with this, slayer, don't even think about orgasming without permission."
His hand quickened his pace on her clit and she could tell from Angelus's own movements that he was near to his own climax. "If you come before you're told, I'll bugger you in your uptight, ever so prim-and-proper ass, Buff. After, once you've felt me stretching your ass, your entire attitude will change. We'll see a whole new you, one who is docile, compliant, and will do anything … anything … just for the chance to come once in a while."
Her clit began to give off shooting sparks that traced fiery lines throughout her groin, and her entire body went rigid in response. She pushed her head against the horse, made noises that were beyond her ability to control, and felt the sweat dripping off her skin to land upon the stone of the floor.
"Admit it, obnoxious slayers like you need this treatment every once in a while, don't you?" Angelus hissed. "Don't you come. Don't you dare come."
His fingers curled and teased along the hood of her clit in just the way that Angel knew she liked, and that was enough.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.
Colors became tastes, sounds became sparkling light, and every thought left her as a wracking, white-hot spasm sparked deep within her core and then rippled outward in a glorious, blindingly pleasurable orgasm. She keened and groaned, all ability to think or speak having left her, and writhed while Angelus continued to take his pleasure.
The clenching of her slayer-powered muscles went on and on, milking his cock as he repeatedly worked himself deep. She felt his cock twitch as he pushed himself to the hilt, and then he was coming, too, and the feel of him spurting his seed deep inside triggered another round of gloriously pleasurable, cascading contractions that churned her entire pelvic floor into a liquified bliss.
When they'd both calmed enough for their thoughts to return to them, Angelus patted her rump in an obnoxiously fond manner while she lay in a sodden, quivering heap on the horse.
He withdrew himself, wiped his cock on her ass, no doubt leaving a milky, glistening trail behind as he did so, and then walked to the front of the horse and crouched down. He yanked off her blindfold, she blinked against the yellow light, and then she stared at his dark eyes. She felt very much like a small, trapped animal as Angelus met her gaze.
"Need a break, Ms. Summers?" he asked. The question was phrased in the same cruel tone he'd been using for most of the evening, but referring to her in that particular way meant he actually would listen to her answer.
She considered the question for a moment. She could use some water, and a bit of a reset of the scene wouldn't hurt. "Mister Gordo," she said with clear, careful enunciation.
Angel nodded, kissed her on the forehead, a nice bit of aftercare she appreciated, and then he released the straps and chain that kept her bent forward. Once she had enough mobility to stand upright, she raised herself off the horse, stretched her shoulders, and smiled at him.
"How was that?" he asked with a concerned, loving voice and an expression that screamed performance anxiety.
"Amazing," she said. "Perfect." She giggled for a moment. "But some of those phrases you used … buggered? Has anyone said that in a couple hundred years? Prim-and-proper ass? Really? You back to reading that creepy erotica posted by your fans on those websites you told me about?"
"Buggering used to be what people said!" he protested as he walked over to a mini-fridge, opened the door, and extracted a bottle of water. "And some of those stories are good!" He untwisted the cap of the water, walked over to her, and handed it to her.
That's true … and we've borrowed some of their kinkier ideas from time to time.
She giggled again between raising her still chained wrists and taking long drinks from the water bottle. Her throat was raw from screaming and the cold fluid felt heavenly.
Angel looked her over with a worried eye, and the obvious depth of his concern made her heart swoon. "It wasn't too much?" he asked. "I don't want to hurt you, Buffy."
She immediately shook her head. "Nope. You nailed it."
And you nailed me, too. Tomorrow, I'm going to wake up feeling like I got rogered with a telephone pole.
"You're really alright?"
"More than alright," she assured him. "That was incredible. I came with muscles I didn't even know I had." She glanced him over. "And what about you? Not too happy of an experience, I hope?"
Angel shook his head. "Hey, don't get me wrong, these fantasies are important to you, and that means they're important to me … and yeah, this is definitely fun … but moments of perfect, blissful happiness isn't really what we're about down here, is it?"
"I guess not," she admitted as she finished the water bottle and handed it over. Angel set it on a nearby table, then came back and kissed her for a long time.
"You know," she murmured post-kiss as she looked him up and down with an appreciative eye and noted that his cock had apparently received enough time to recuperate, "even during these breaks, you could try to stay in character just a bit."
Angel's eyes widened and the corner of one side of his mouth curled up as he took her meaning. His eyes narrowed as he barked, "Hands behind your head."
She smiled with glee and hurried to position her manacled wrists at the back of her head with her elbows spread wide and high. "Do your worst, you inhuman monster," she said while she stared at him with the most infuriating expression of defiant insolence she could manage.
Angel reached down and began to unfasten the strap securing her left ankle.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.
"I was going to unlock your feet … ?" Angel informed her in a questioning manner as he eyed the bed set in the corner of the room.
"Uh, uh," she told him in a stern, commanding tone as she kept her arms in place. "You've got an obnoxious slayer at your mercy who came without permission, and your plan is to reward her with tender lovemaking on a proper bed?" She cocked her head at him and in the most provocative tone she could muster said, "You just promised a little while ago that you were going to give me what I need to keep me in line." She sinuously wiggled her bottom and the corners of her lips turned up in a satisfied grin as Angel's eyes tracked the movement of her hips. "Was that just all talk?"
He glanced at her with a concerned expression. "Are you sure … have you ever tried this before?"
"No," she admitted, "and while I'm into it, and into you being in me, make sure you're careful with the goods." She winked at him.
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I'll treat you however I want."
Her eyes fluttered, a soft, excited coo escaped her throat, and then she leaned forward on the horse and extended her arms. "Break time's over."
Angel composed himself, focused on getting back into character, and then the glint of cruelty re-appeared in his eyes. In short order she found herself bent back over the horse, her legs once again bound wide apart by tight straps, and her manacled wrists chained so that the fetters once again stretched her tight along the padded top. The blindfold had been wrapped back around her head, robbing her once more of her sight, and a second band of thick black cloth had been wedged between her teeth so that a wad of knotted fabric rested on her tongue. When she tested the effectiveness of the material cleaving her mouth, the gag muffled and garbled her speech in a manner she imagined Angel ... no, Angelus ... found as exciting as she did. She'd rubbed her face against the horse in an effort to dislodge blindfold and gag, but both had been securely tied off behind her head.
Angelus had found the little tweezer clamps, of course, and those now pinched her breasts just behind her dangling nipples. Their sharp biting pain had quickly turned into a slow, throbbing ache that felt as though it pulsed in time with her clit. Her sex dripped both from her arousal and from emissions left by earlier activities. Somewhere behind her pinioned, wide-spread legs, Angelus rustled through the implements on the table, and she smiled around the gag as she imagined what was about to come. Fixed as she was, she could not strain more than a few inches in any direction, and the seam of her ass was stretched wide and exposed to reveal the vulnerable, ridged ring set right in the middle.
If he tries to start without using lube, I'll be screaming Mister Gordo's name through this gag at the top of my lungs.
With each of these sessions the terror, fear, and misery of what Angelus had done to her, and what countless other vamps and demons had threatened to do to her, loosened their grip on her soul just a little bit more. Not all the way, of course. They'd need to try variations on this theme quite a few more times before she could leave it all behind.
Or maybe I'll never quite get there, and we'll just have to keep trying …
She heard Angelus's footfalls as he approached, and then to her surprise he knelt, lifted the blindfold, and showed her both a black leather crop that she knew from experience would trace fiery lines across her ass and a silver clip exactly like the ones on her nipples. Once he was sure she'd seen the items, he pulled the blindfold down, leaving her again in darkness, and then she heard him walk around the horse until he was behind her.
What is he doing?
A current of nervous fear swept over her as she felt him trace the metal of the clip up her leg and across the folds of her sex. When he tapped the clamp in a thoughtful manner against the tip of her supremely needy, protruding clit, a horrible, twisted thought occurred to her.
He wouldn't … would he?
"You seem to have trouble obeying orders not to orgasm," Angelus informed her in a stern, rumbling manner that made her pinioned, exposed groin twitch. "But I think I know what the problem is." He tapped the clamp again against her clit, which made her hips tremble in fear while a muffled squeal that was equal parts excitement and nervousness emanated from behind the gag jammed into her mouth. "This tiny bundle of nerves makes it way too easy for you to come. Before I whip you for a while, I think that I'd better hurt it just a bit so that later, you can focus on the pleasure of being fucked someplace entirely new. Don't you think those are good ideas, Ms. Summers?"
Oh god … he called me Ms. Summers … that means I actually have to choose.
Her breath caught in her throat as she considered how she wanted to respond.