All About Spike - Plain Version
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The Slave Series
DISCLAIMER: All hail Joss Whedon, UPN, the WB, FOX , Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. Theirs not mine.
Chapter One: Willing Slave
We have never danced before. Well, not to music anyway. The band onstage at the Bronze rocks the house, pounding out a throbbing bass line. The beat reverberates through the floor, pulsing through the bodies of the crowd.
I remember the first time I saw her, shaking her ass right here on the dance floor. I'd wanted to screw her even then. It really didn't matter that she was the slayer. I'd just liked the way she moved her hips. It made me wonder what it would be like underneath her, with that silky hair sliding through my fingers.
I know now. Her scent, her skin, her sounds all belong to me now. It is all so much better than I'd imagined. She is the same girl. Then again, she's not. That girl was an innocent, unaware of the temptation she presented. This girl, my girl, she knows what she does to me. She thrives on it.
She radiates sex appeal, knowing every thing she does turns me on. I've got my very own slayer, grinding and moving to the music with me. Dressed in a tiny black leather dress, she is my wet dream come to life.
The band launches into a slow ballad. Grabbing the lapels of my coat, she draws me close. I bend my head down, capturing her mouth in a long, lush kiss. She slips her hands inside the duster, wrapping her arms around me.
I rest my head on top of hers. I love the smell of her hair. It is one of the things that draw me to her. Her scent goes straight to my heart.
Buffy tilts her neck up to look at me. The smile she gives me is unexpected. She doesn't smile much anymore. Her hand moves to the front of my jeans. She starts to undo the buttons of my fly. I try to still her hand, but she flicks my wrist away. Staring up at me, she shakes her head. Pulling my cock out of my pants, she strokes it between her palms.
Baby wants to play. Whipping my coat around her back, I hide us from the surrounding crowd. She steps up on my feet, like a little girl learning to waltz. Buffy curls one leg around mine, bracing herself while she shoves me inside her.
Sweet holy God, it feels so fine. I realize I am at her mercy. I can't move my hands, because they are clenched in the duster, holding it shut. I can't thrust my hips and move inside her, because someone might notice. It occurs to me that we are standing still in a sea of swaying people. Moving to the beat, I slide my feet from side to side. I can't believe Buffy is doing this.
Her strong little hands wrap around my ass, gripping my jeans. She is pushing me slowly, gently in and out of her warmth. The rings of muscle inside her squeeze me inch by inch, back and forth. The sensation is so very strong, more intense for being so slow. I continue the dance, moving us both to the strains of the sad love song.
She looks up at me, her face giving away absolutely nothing. Buffy whispers in my ear.
"Do you like the way I feel?" Consumed by the juggling act of holding back my orgasm, not making any noise, and keeping up the pretense of the dance, all I can do is nod. "You know what I like about fucking you?"
I shake my head no, hoping she is going to talk dirty to me. "I like the way your hips start to twitch when your orgasm builds." Her tongue glides up and down my neck. "I like the way your eyes get all hazy when you're right on the edge." She is licking me harder now, perfectly in time with the rhythm of sex. "I like making things happen to you."
Buffy presses her sharp nails into my jeans as she keeps working me back and forth inside her. The fabric rips and her nails cut into my flesh. The pain, the pain is so sharp that I nearly lose it. She stares up at me and bites her lower lip. Beads of blood well up in a curve across it.
"I want to give you what you really want."
She kisses me, and the aphrodisiac effect of her blood hits my system like an atomic blast.
Have to come. Have to vamp. Oh, fuck me sideways. I bury my head in her chest as my demon and my orgasm burst forth. Desperately, I try to hide my face and fangs and conceal my cry of ecstasy simultaneously. I am undone by the pain, the pleasure, the blood of a Slayer. In a hundred years, nothing has even come close to feeling this good.
Her heartbeat thrums loudly beneath my cheek. As I calm and still, my demon receding, she sets my pants to rights and slides off my body. As soon as she hits the floor, the band launches into a fast number. We are surrounded by a sea of bouncing, happy people, screaming out the lyrics to a classic 80's tune.
I grab Buffy's arm and pull her through the masses, hustling her out into the alley.
"What the fuck are you playing at? That was dangerous! Have you lost all sense?"
She looks flushed and intense, barely keeping herself in check.
"You said you'd be my willing slave." She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me hard.
She sucks on my tongue, licking and stroking the inside of my mouth. Buffy pulls away and caresses my cheek. "I wanted you to prove it."
I can smell her arousal and feel the tension in her body. I've left her unsatisfied, shaking with need. Better fix that. Scooping her in my arms, I dash down the alley.
Where's the fucking car? Somewhere in this parking lot.
I dash down row after row. Not my car, not my car, not my car. Ah, there is my car.
I fumble with the key, trying to get it in the lock. Buffy is sucking my neck and rubbing me through my pants. She is driving me insane. The key snaps in the lock. "Bloody hell."
Punching out the lock with my thumb, I open the door, tossing Buffy inside. I slam the door shut behind me and yank up her dress.
The scent of her overwhelms me, as clean and salty as the sea. Spreading her thighs, I lick her swollen clit over and over, until she arches and comes into my mouth. I swallow her juices down, the taste of her essence better than blood, better than anything.
Looking up at her, she is still taut with tension, not yet calm and blissful. I suck her lips into my mouth, my tongue swirling and probing inside her. I can feel her orgasm building as I work her with all I can give.
She is chanting, over and over, like she is reciting the words to a spell. "You're mine- I own you- never leave me- I own you-you're mine-" Buffy moans as her climax engulfs her.
She pulls me up to her and I hold her in my arms.
In the light of the street lamp, she glows like an angel. There is nothing in this world more beautiful than her.
She looks over at me, contented and pleased. Something more than desire blazes inside her eyes. In their depths lies something deeper than lust.
Buffy places her hands around both my wrists and holds them tight, binding me to her.
The truth is there in the looks she gives me, the yearning in her voice, and this need for me that cannot be denied. The signs are all perfectly clear. It's only a matter of time until she realizes this claim she's made binds both ways.
Continued in Chapter Two: Slave in Shackles
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