This is just too good to be true,’ Pret thought, looking at what amounted to a bill of sale. ‘I own an Aurelian vampire – correction – an ex-Aurelian vampire. With a soul. It’s just too delicious for words.’

When Angel called with the offer of dumping one of his get at Dante’s doorsteps, the demon had instantly come up with the idea of a demonic tournament. The winner got to kill one of only two souled vampires in all of creation. A traitor to demon kind. It didn’t matter if he was one-legged and wrinkled – he would be a magnificent draw to Dante’s and the money would come pouring in.

He was rather surprised that one souled vampire would sell another, especially his own childe, but Pret wasn’t about to question his own good fortune.

His plan went right out the window at the first glance of the trussed up vampire on his floor. He was pretty, all pale muscle and hair. Lifting his shirt, he noted Spike’s skin seemed to be unmarked. He couldn’t wait to get a good look at all his money had bought, but was wary of releasing the ropes. Even handcuffed, he was sure the blonde’s strength would become an issue if the sedative wore off.

Calling in two of his musclemen to hold the vampire securely, Pret removed first the duster and then the Docs, followed by the jeans. He paused to appreciate the vampire’s impressively semi-hard cock nestled in its bed of dark blond curls. He lifted it gently, feeling the heavy weight of the organ in his hands before moving on to cut off Spike’s t-shirt.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, running his hands up and down the well-sculpted pecs and abs of his latest acquisition. “I’m gonna have to make other plans for you, lovely one. You’re too pretty for a quick slaughter.”

Spike remained on the rug he’d been transported in, silent and unmoving. He’d begun the rise to consciousness, but was too weak and disoriented to take a chance on letting them know he was aware of his surroundings. Patience might be the order of the day, so he kept still.

With a silent motion to his men, Spike was unceremoniously hauled upright and dragged over to the back wall of the little room. The handcuffs were released.

Spike’s arms were drawn over his head, manacles attached and locked onto a ring sunk deep into the wall. His ankles were treated to the same manacles, legs drawn apart, and fastened to rings on the floor, displaying him for Pret’s perusal.

“I know you’re awake, little love,” the demon crooned. Gonna make sure you’re all tightly held in place until I can decide what’s best for you. You’re mine now – to do with as I please. You’re a present all wrapped up in pretty white muscle and I need to see more of you.

His ruse blown, Spike’s eyes opened, anger flashing as he got a clear view of Pret for the first time. The S’lugith demon could pass for human, mostly – about six feet tall with an excess of red hair on his face and hands. Two little horns were hidden under the hair on his head, and if Spike could remember his demons correctly, a stubby tail was contained under his clothing,.

“Just warning you, pretty. Open that mouth once when not ordered to, and I’ll gag you. Don’t want the patrons put off their food and drink, do we now?”

Pret grabbed a pillow from a nearby cot, and shoved it in between Spike’s ass and the wall, forcing his groin forward. One of the musclemen returned with a basin of water, a can of shaving cream and a straight razor, handing both to the S’lugith before retreating from the room and closing the door behind him.

“Told you I need to see more of you, and I do suggest you stay as still as possible. Wouldn’t want to damage the merchandise before getting some use out of it.”

Taking the washcloth out of the basin, Pret ran it over the vampire’s pubic hair, moistening it in preparation for removal. He applied the shaving cream with his hands, to groin and testicles – stroking longer than necessary, taking obvious pleasure in handling Spike’s genitals.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Spike wondered. Other than the obvious, of course. What did that bastard mean about owning him? The last thing he remembered was being shot in the back by Angel. Clearly that wanker was at the bottom of all this. He closed his eyes, silently submitting to this latest humiliation.

At the first press of the razor against flesh, Pret began to speak again.

“All that pretty white skin just waiting to be uncovered. scrape Want to know how you came to be mine, sweet thing?” scrape With a handful of Spike’s cock pulled upwards for better access to his balls, the demon paused, looking directly into the vampire’s eyes.

Lips pressed tightly together, Spike nodded.

“Your Sire sold your ass to me. For the princely sum of one dollar, you are no longer part of the Order of Aurelius, and I have the paperwork to prove it. Gonna frame that paper and hang it up front along with your duster. What was yours is now mine. You are mine.”

“No!” Spike protested.

But he knew it to be the truth.

Shit, shit, shit! The fucker had really gone and sold Sire’s Rights to this bastard. He might not have Angelus’ knowledge of vampiric law, but this was something he was intimately familiar with. He’d been threatened with it as a fledgling more times than he could count.

He was as good as dust. Worse than dust. He was totally worthless.

“I suppose you’re owed that one outburst, vampire. However, I warn you – one more word…” Pret poised the razor.

Spike’s frantic nod made further threats unnecessary.

“Good boy. Just do as I say and things will go easier for you. scrape Just a little bit more now scrape and you’ll be clean as the day you were born.” scrape A quick swipe of the washcloth to remove any remaining foam and the denuded skin practically glowed.

“A little oil to keep you smooth and we’re all finished for the moment,” Pret said, as he massaged the slick substance into every inch of flesh he could get his fingers on. He slipped his index finger underneath Spike’s balls, seeking out the small pucker between his cheeks. A slight push in an attempt to breech the tight ring of muscles proved fruitless. The vampire was far too tense.

“Oh you’re going to be a joy, you precious thing. Tight ass like yours will be highly sought after. Breaking you in is going to be a fine challenge.”

Spike hung limply in his restraints, his thighs straining from the pressure of the pillow that forced his hips forward, his chin resting on his chest in submission.

“Pretty as a picture, you are – all bare and glowing for me. Gonna lock up that treasure just for me, I think.” Grabbing Spike’s cock, Pret pumped it several times, enjoying the feel of it filling and lengthening in his hand. He deftly snapped a thick black leather cock ring around the base of the burgeoning erection and secured it in place with a small silver padlock.

Stepping away from his captive, the demon admired his handiwork. A shiver of desire coursed through his own body, which he promptly ignored. Plenty of time for indulgence in that fantasy later.

“Hang around, Spike,” he said, using the vampire’s name for the first and last time. “I have some things that cannot be put off any longer, but you’ll have my undivided attention soon enough.”

At the sound of the door closing, Spike raised his head, tears coursing silently down his face. This was his lot in life? One moment a hero – a champion charged with saving the world, the next moment an Orderless vampire – rejected by Sire and sold into either slavery or prostitution, or both from the sound of things.

He thought back to the day Giles’ had asked him if he might have a higher purpose in life. He’d snorted at the idea back then, but had come to believe just a little bit when Buffy handed him the amulet and called him a champion. Seems the Powers That Be didn’t think so highly of their champions after all, or maybe it was just him.

He startled at the sound of the door opening, unneeded breath catching in his throat as his fear threatened to overtake him. He wasn’t used to feeling helpless and it unsettled him, and being abandoned by his family, even though their relationship was volatile at best, had taken all the fight out of him.

Pret entered with only one other man as backup. “You gonna behave yourself, boy? Gonna try and make things more comfortable for you if you do.”

A brief nod, and Pret stepped forward. “My man is here just in case you decide to get rambunctious.” He unlocked the manacles from the ceiling ring, fastening them together in front of Spike, allowing his muscles to relax somewhat. “Gonna undo your feet, and if one of ‘em finds their way to touching me, I’ll get to see first-hand what the regenerative powers of a vampire are.”

Freed from the wall at last, Spike crumpled to the ground, his legs unable to hold him upright any longer.

“That’s good, baby. Just be quiet and listen to Pret and we’ll get along just fine.” He fastened a black leather collar around the vampire’s neck, two inches in width and secured it in place with two tiny silver padlocks, much like the cock ring. “Gonna trust you just a little bit, lovely. This collar’s gonna be chained to the wall, but you’ll have enough room to lie down for the evening. Trust me, you’re gonna need your rest for the next stage.”

Turning to leave he asked, “You hungry sweet thing?”

Spike nodded.

“That’s good to know. See you tomorrow, then.”

No!

Oh, God.

It couldn’t get worse. Could it?

Fiercely hungry, muscles aching, Spike crawled over to the cot as soon as he could gather his feet beneath him.

In no time at all, he had passed out cold.