Fic info.
He's Gone Soft
She took him away from me.

She took them both away from me.

But he had a choice. My Angel didn't. My poor Angel....

Spike had a choice! And he chose to help her! The Slayer! And he hurt my Angel. I saw him. With a crowbar.

My poor Angel....

How could Spike do this? He was mine. Mine! Then he went and betrayed us. With the Slayer. He was supposed to kill her.

I knew she'd end up doing something like this if she wasn't gotten out of the way. I knew it. When I first reached Sunnydale, I knew it. It was dark where she was. She was a threat. Spike said he'd take care of her.

Then he helped her.

And not only did he wound and bruise my Angel's perfect body, he struck me. And choked me. He struck me!

Spike's never struck me before.

Well...unless I wanted it.

Oh, how we used to play. With whips and chains and branding irons. Although, the branding irons were mostly used on other people. I liked to use them on little children, but Spike didn't really enjoy that.

Not that he had a problem with me and little children. He had a problem with sex and little children. Which is as it should be. My Spike's a proper Demon.

Or he used to be. Now he's not Demon enough. Not for me.

Not since he helped her.

I remember how it used to be. My Daddy had gone all way. He'd become a bad Daddy. But I still had my Spike.

Oh, how we used to play!

I remember one time, we had just finished feeding. It was in England. I'd eaten a street urchin. He'd tasted so yummy, all warm in my tummy.

That rhymes!

Spike had had a whore. Nasty little thing, she was. But he'd eaten her all up. He'd even shared some. I'd shared my urchin. We shared everything.

Then he'd gotten all hard. Ooh, I like it when he gets hard. Almost as much as I like it when Angel gets hard. But it's different, you see. Spike's different than Angel. Angel...oh, Angel.... He hurts me sometimes more than I can bear.

Spike only hurts me when I want it.

But he'd gotten all hard and I nipped at his neck, drawing blood. It tasted good. All urchin-whorish. He grabbed me about the waist and dragged me against him, crushing my mouth. I could feel his teeth dig into my lips and I laughed for sheer joy.

He pushed me roughly against the wall and lifted my skirt. He unbuttoned his slacks and then he was inside me. Hot, heavy, full. His cock deep in my pussy. I was so wet. He started to move, pushing me harder and harder against the wall, pumping in and out of me, my juices running over him.

I brought my legs up and locked them around his waist and he pushed further in. I cried out as his fingers found my clit. Spike always was so good with his fingers. He made me come, once, twice, thrice. The fourth time, he spilled his cold seed into my womb as he bit down on the top of my left breasts, right through my dress.

That was lovely.

But Spike could be harsh with me sometimes. Especially when I wanted it.

One time, I was lying on the bed listlessly and I wanted to be hurt so badly. Just like Angel used to hurt me.

I told him that and the next thing I knew, he'd thrown me across the room.

Before I could get to my feet, he was on top of me, biting the nape of my neck, nearly paralizing me with pleaure and pain, physically dominating me in the natural way of Vampires.

He dragged me to the corner where the chains were. There had been a snack in the chains for us—his name had been Royce—but I'd finished him earlier, so the chains were free.

He closed them around my wrists, leaving me facing the wall. I felt him grab the back of my dress and heard fabric rip and the cool air touched my back. Gently, he pushed my hair over my shoulders so it wouldn't get all bloodied. My Spike always was considerate.

The first whip crack stung, but I didn't make a sound. My Angel had taught me. Never make a sound until you absolutely have to. That way the torture lasts longer.

Each crack of the whip brought fire down my back and wetness to my pussy. Each time I heard it snap, I shuddered in pain and anticipation of the next strike.

Slowly, he moved the pattern of the blows down to my buttocks and then backs of my thighs. Oh, the warmth! It was Hellish! I loved it so....

When he still hadn't drawn a sound from me, he took each of my ankles in his hands and pulled them apart quickly.

"Don't move, Dru," he ordered harshly. I could hear his need in his voice. He wanted me, but would not take me until I screamed. Oh, my Spike! How we played!

There was a moment when I could hear him shuffling things about, looking for something. Then the wooden paddle hit across my buttocks and I knew I'd be screaming soon. Not because of the spanking on my bum, no. I could take that for hours, it was so nice.

But he didn't stay there. He began to move closer and closer to my pussy, moving betweent my legs, until he was finally hitting dead on. My clit throbbed in agony and I let out a whimper.

"Did you say something, love?" he asked conversationally, smacking me again.

My hips surged forward at the contact, wanting him to hit even harder. What is pleasure without pain?

Smack. Smack. Smack!

I screamed and he was suddenly in front of me, grinning. "Good girl," he muttered, just before he lifted me and shoved his cock inside me.

Oh, it felt so good. I hung in his arms, orgasm after orgasm crashing down on me as he fucked me into oblivion.

How we used to play.

But then those nasty, nasty people attacked me in Prague. A mob, Spike said. They hurt. I didn't care for them, that much.

So he took me to Sunnydale. It was supposed to be our place. Where we would rule. He said I could have parties!

And Daddy came back! He was ours again. Spike, Daddy, and me. A happy family.

But he had to join with her. The Slayer. Miss Edith warned me. I warned Spike. But he still helped her. She's a nasty girl, that Slayer, taking my Daddy and then my Spike. I hate her.

But I hate him more. He was supposed to be mine. Not hers.

Oh! I hate him, I hate him! How I hate him! He's not Demon enough for me. No.

He's gone soft.