Author's foreward: Ok, so this is a chapter, no rape, GRAPHIC WEIRD ASS 'all in the family' dynamic. I didn't really know how to write their individual motivations, so it comes off kind of crummy in my opinion. I'm just surprised I managed to turn out a half decent fuck-filled piece of angst in this. SAB fic. KINK... Buffy gets punished. Sex. Different writing than ch. 1 and 2...and for those of you who are wondering how the ending can happen... refer to ur notes in ch. 2, which plainly imply that the curse is vaginal intercourse - specific. Enjoy...
It was dark. Buffy sat in a corner of Spike's crypt, reeking of cum, salmon and urine. Spike had made her stand after seeing her on her hands and knees like a trashy two bit whore, covered in the remnants of the rapes she'd suffered earlier. When he'd picked her up, carried her in his arms to his ride, a wave of relief had washed over her. He wouldn't hurt her, at least not then.
William the Bloody was not a tender lover. He had made it clear to her on several occasions that if she gave her body to anyone but him, male or female, they would meet a grisly fate. It had been implied that she herself would be killed, turned... and then chained naked to be his private fuck slave forever. So when he had picked her up, almost tenderly, and not beaten her, but instead carried her the twenty yards to his motorcycle double parked in a handicapped space, she had simply allowed herself to be taken. It wasn't as if the effects of Scoli's orgasmic fluid would have allowed her to do anything else.
He had sat in front, reached back and physically put her arms around his waist. Buffy wouldn't have had the courage to do it herself. She was ashamed of herself, of the circumstances under which Spike had found her, of the weakness she was guilty of. They had ridden the seemingly endless minutes to his crypt in silence, the orgasmic fluids on her face and body drying in the wind. Buffy would have wiped them off her face with her own top if she'd had the courage not to do exactly as Spike told her to, but she didn't.
Buffy felt as if the silence were boring into her skull. Something had to happen. She felt like a child being punished by being put in a corner, and the entire scenario was bizarre. She could instinctively feel the effects of Scoli's orgasmic fluid wearing off, and some of her own courage returned with this as well.
"Spike", her voice rang out against the cold stone walls.
"Hush....", he replied, not turning to meet her imploring gaze as his cold whisper trailed off.
Spike didn't turn around at the sound of his whore's voice. He knew she had been raped tonight. But he also knew she had enjoyed it, invited it, and partially brought it upon herself. Buffy was unaware of this as a human, but his claim of her, his marking of her, had connected her to him more deeply than even Angel had been. He would feel her dreams at night, sometimes being awakened from his own daily slumber by her waking thoughts. Spike had been an hour's way out to San Francisco when he had felt Buffy's pull.
The sharp, jagged spikes of fear, pain and arousal had flooded his body along with the degradation he knew Buffy had felt. He knew then that Buffy had fought a Siliro and was losing. Spike also knew that Buffy had eaten the Siliro's maximized slit not as a survival technique, but out of desire. The slut had fallen to her hands and knees like a clit starved slut and proceeded consume the demon's blue-tinted salmon fillet with wild abandon.
Spike heard Buffy's flinch, imperceptible to human ears, as he slammed his already well bloodied fist into the stone wall against which he stood. She had actually protested against being taken out of the demon bitch's cunt. The thought filled Spike's head with twisted fury, and the blood in his ears sounded so loudly that he didn't hear Buffy rise and come to him.
"Spike," Buffy said, this time more forcefully than before.
Her strength was indeed returning.
The vampire stood unmoving, refusing to meet her gaze. Despite being a twisted soulless demon, Spike didn't want to destroy Buffy. He didn't want to break her, disfigure her or see her go mad with pain the way he'd seen his first true love, Druscilla, be forced. So he didn't turn around.
"Spike...", Buffy repeated, unsure of how to begin, "Spike, this isn't fair."
The foolhardy blonde slayer took a deep breath before continuing. And then suddenly, unbidden, it came out.
"I was RAPED."
The one shaming sentence finally out of her mouth gave Buffy power.
"You LOVED IT", Spike said icily, wondering how she could stand there and pretend she hadn't betrayed him.
Buffy in turn looked at Spike incredulously, wondering how she could have thought she loved this man.
"Oh...you're...you're really as nutty as Dru aren't-cha", she said, wondering how he could believe that her uncontrollable physical responses meant that she truly enjoyed being raped and used before she spat out, "You sick, STUPID FUCK! I... I don't think...I don't think this is going to work".
And then Spike did turn to face her, and Buffy backed away with quiet fear as she saw the pale unforgiving blue ice in his gaze.
"You begged for it," he said with chilling softness.
Buffy opened her mouth to call her vampire lover out, but she understood then. She had never been sure, she couldn't have been. But she had always suspected that somehow, a nosferatu lover held differences other than staying power and temperature from a living one. Angel had always seemed to know what she was feeling, sometimes before even she did. Spike knew about Scoli.
Buffy looked away then. Of all the things he had done to her, of all the things they did to each other, one thing they did religiously was be faithful to each other. It was a silent agreement. She had tormented him so long, hurting him and beating him and sleeping around with many other men, even after Riley had left. She had done it to prove to herself that she was no one's woman but her own. And she had made sure that Spike knew. The irony was that she had hurt no one but herself and the man, or male, anyhow, whom she knew beneath it all she'd loved since the spell Willow had cast two years earlier . For while the enchantment had ended, it had sparked something even more dangerous and unspoken that could not be named for so long.
And now she had...she had cheated on him. She had cheated with another woman, or female. And she wasn't sorry about it. She couldn't help herself. Maybe she was a slut, maybe Angel wasn't the only one who could never experience true happiness. She knew that she couldn't help herself. Something about her first experience with Scoli had marked her beyond the moment, and tonight had been it's fruition.
"I'm sorry," Buffy said softly in the darkened crypt, " I had to. I don't know why. It.. it won't happen again."
"You're right. It won't."
Buffy whirled around in fear and shock.
"Angel?"
The raven haired vampire stood facing his denied lover, a whisper of a smile playing upon his beautiful face. He was finally home.
"That's right, Buff, " Angel said slowly, and for a moment the blonde woman was unsure if the man who stood before her was her lost love or her worst nightmare. But tonight held all sorts of surprises so she wouldn't be surprised if both came out to play. She was in no condition to fight. Still, she gathered her steadily returning strength about her and challenged the soul who had decided years ago to walk out of her existence. If he thought he could come here and straighten her out, return her to being his pedestal princess or govern her life, she would show him that the time for that was long past.
"Get out," Buffy stated with such a flat, unflinching sureness that a mortal man would have recognized that his chances with her were nonexistent. But Angel was no mortal man, and he had always found a way to take what he wanted. However, what happened next surprised a Slayer so jaded that she thought herself ready for anything this night.
"Treat him with respect, cunt."
Buffy heard the acid tone of Spike's voice like a searing sonic penetration, and instinctively felt him draw nearer to her, perhaps to deliver punishment for her latest mistake?
Angel laughed in spite of the situation, suddenly bringing both Buffy and Spike's attention back to the surviving Father of the Order of Aurelius.
"Spike, my boy, you never change," the dark vamire chastized, but his rebuke was infused with humour, and the vampire was suddenly face to face with Spike, mere inches of Buffy's creamy flesh separating the two long separated nosferatu.
"My sweet boy," Angel said gruffly.
Buffy shivered in unwanted excitement, and for the second time that night she felt longings she couldn't control stirring between her thighs.
All she felt was Angel and Spike. A blessing and a hard poke.
It had been too long.
Her former lover's body pressed against her, separated only by thin layers of upscale suit fabric, dried remants of rape and the tattered shreds of her silken skorts. It had been too long.
Spike and Angel stared at one another as two lions circling each other for dominion over a pride. Each inhaled the rich scent of the other, and their shared Wife. Angel's eyes seemed to pierce Spike's soul, and suddenly the blonde vampire couldn't feel anything except the lost touch of his former lover and Sire, whispering through time and memory to the present moment. Angel as well felt the pull of his parted childer Spike. Only this time, he didn't feel shame and pain at having hurt Druscilla, nor did he feel the curse of abandoning them, or the silent apology for having to choose the side for which he fought. He only felt what was his. What had always been his.
And for a moment, the three supernatural creatures stood unmoving, experiencing the vaguely familiar sensation that was not yet named. It just felt right.
Buffy looked up as she felt herself being held tighter between her current and former boyfriends, and her eyes raised a milisecond before their lips grazed one another. She knew then that it was one of the most beautiful things she would ever experience.
The vampires explored each other's mouths, tongues probing and driving deep, attempting to quench a long-denied thirst. Twin sets of bloody tears dropped onto Buffy's face and shoulders, one drop falling between her ample breasts and staining her white tank top. She felt nothing, lost in the mesmerizing kiss which the two nosferatu shared. Each growling, lapping and biting at the other's mouth. It had been too long.
Angel's cock quickly roused itself from it's semi-erect state on the drive down to a currently painful throbbing. He knew Spike felt the same. The older vampire gripped his Childer, pulling him closer and unconsciously, without thought, grinding his demanding erection against Buffy's midsection.
Spike responded in turn, holding Angel with unnatural strength, never wanting this moment to end. That Buffy was present made it all the more erotic and pleasurable in every sense of the word.
When the two vampires broke their kiss, the air was thick with an erotic charge. Neither one of them were sure that they could pull away from the other. But eventually, Angel broke the gaze in which he and his Childer had been dancing and circling silently, turning away from each of his abandoned mates and instead facing the cold greystone walls. Angel focused on the downpour outside. For if he let his thoughts stray, he wasn't sure if he would break down and cry for what he had lost and could no longer ignore - not since the call of both Buffy and Spike had mingled into one though their own unyielding tryst. And Buffy needed him to be strong for her...and he needed for her to understand. And Buffy wasn't the only one who needed to understand, Spike did to. They needed to know that he was just here to facilitate the process. Things had become so fucked up over the past few years; his Goddess of saintly guild had grown into the wisdom he couldn't keep her from, Spike and Druscilla were separated... it had all gone to shit. But he had done the right thing by leaving, both times.
He told himself that and maybe if kept doing it he would believe it. But the one thing he knew was that staying wouldn't make things right.
So the 248 year old vampire stared at the beating rain through the open door of Spike's crypt, regaining his compusure and calling down his basest rage for what he needed to do. Angelus would get playtime, would get to live vicariously through Angel, even if just for a short while. The trick was putting the demon away once it's role had been served.
Buffy breathed in the wet night air with gasping shivers. It was cold, but that wasn't why the blonde Slayer fought for air. It was as if the kiss her lovers had shared had taken her breath in place of the oxygen which they themselves didn't need. She had always suspected that there had been more to the relationship between Sire and Childer, but had never pressed on; she'd been slightly jealous that another being, let alone another immortal, could harden Angel and Spike's dicks the way she did.
And then Angel turned around.
"Buffy, I hear you've been a dirty little skank," Angel said, opening him up to the stream of words springing directly from his demon's consciousness.
Buffy's reverie of thought and uncertainty ended with Angel's words, leaving only an unwanted lust spearing through her body.
"And I hear you're about to die, fuckface," Buffy spat, before she charged forth with unearthly speed and struck her lover - former lover - with a blow that would have shattered bones if it's victim had been human.
Buffy wouldn't kill Angelus. Even after all these years, even with what she felt for Spike, for her family and friends that were at risk of his wrath, she couldn't. She would, however, beat him to the extent that her past treatment of Spike would seem tender before locking him up and working with Willow until she found a way to return the man she was loathe to admit she still loved to the beast she never could. But before she could get in another blow, Spike gripper her arms from behind, his strength making her writhe pitifully in effort to get free. And for the first time since he'd found her, raped, demoralized and horny on the dirty cement floor of a seedy alley earlier that night, Spike laughed. His amusement with Buffy's efforts to get free sent a chill down her spine, and as he took pride in the fighting spirit of his Goldilocks while holding her, Buffy wondered if her lover had finally gone round the bend.
The moment he was hit, Angel pushed the demon down. He knew he had to process the hit with full consciousness, for Angelus might break Buffy. Literally. Instead, he focused on subduing her, a fairly simple task which he engrossed himself in to the fullest extent. In moments, Buffy was chained to the wall of Spike's crypt, the open door giving any demon or human who happened to walk by a view of the Slayer, compromised for the third time that night, in chains and covered in cum, at the mercy of her demon masters.
Buffy struggled pointlessly against her bonds, shouting for freedom.
"Let me go now and I promise I'll kill you quick!"
"Buffy, I'm not Angelus."
The moment the words were spoken, she knew they were true. And that frightened her more than if she had been chained at a soulless demon's hands. She knew how to deal with those. The Slayer looked into her Angel's eyes, braving past her fear and silently imploring his for explanation.
"Buffy," Angel began, suddenly feeling all he had hidden over the years flooding back, "Spike called me."
Buffy's eyes widened in both surprise and indignation. First Angel had told Spike about their past sexual adventures, and now Spike had called him to chain her and torture her? And Angel was going along with it? What was this, the Cosa Nosta?...she sighed inwardly as she remembered Giles telling her that the Cosa Nostra had consciously modeled their family structure after that of the Aurelius Clan.
"Well, you can go then. I promise not to kill you, " the Slayer answered dryly, "I know you're not Angelus. What you don't seem to know is that none of this is any of your business."
Angel smiled humourlessly and wished it were true. He wished that he could be indifferent to the suffering of his beloved and his Childer instead of coming back to be the unholy priest to preside over their future. Instead, the ensouled nosferatu gathered his emotional strength and faced the woman he would always love, ready to hand out punishment and dominance. Unfortunately, those two factors comingled with his pleasure and tether to existence.
It was going to be a rough night for everyone.
"It is 'my business'", Angel mocked bitterly, "you are my beloved and Spike is my Childer. It will always be my business. It will always be my right; you know that, honey."
Buffy looked at her former lover, tears springing to her eyes for the umpteenth time that night. He was right; she would always be his. He had marked her once, his teeth grazing her three years prior, his demon emerging, she knew, not only to drink her lifesaving blood but to claim her as Angel alone would never have done... she had felt it when The Master had fed from her, and so much had been inside him; cinnamon and cayenne and hot chocolate and blood...the wicked He had always wanted and unwicked which He longed for even more. His hunger became her own and she was lost, so lost that her tears of sorrow and humiliation had turned to tears of ecstatic joy.
And then Angel had come. He'd bitten her, or Angelus had. Had wanted to for a long time, she knew with that bite that they both had - he'd almost killed her erasing the bitter taste of his own GrandSire. He would have turned her if Angel hadn't regained his strength in time. Yes, Buffy knew of the bond between Sire and Childer, between all vampire relations, for she was beginning to feel it herself with Spike. It was a terrifying relief, revolting and erotic at once.
No words were needed; Buffy understood what would happen tonight, and she had just been raped once more. She hated Angel, but she knew knew that he knew she had 'enjoyed' it, or reacted to it, to some degree...sought it from Scoli. And by then it was clear; she understood Angel's role. If she wouldn't commit to Spike, please him of her own volition, Angel would see to it that she became submissive and pliant. Or at least faithful. She didn't know that Spike had his own motivations for calling his Sire, or that Angel saw the necessity for her innate submissiveness to manifest before she got herself hurt or killed by those who wouldn't care for her once they'd taken her to the lowest and highest point.
So she wasn't surprised when Angel unfalteringly said in a low tone, "Turn."
Buffy, May Queen of Los Angeles's Canterbury High, Slayer of Nosferatu and Warrior of the People, was tired of fighting. So she turned, crossing her chained arms in order to face the stone wall that had been cooling her back. Angel turned to Spike, and without words, his Childer knew that he was to fetch his toys.
"I... I just wanted, I mean I didn't mean...I won't let you hurt her, you fuckin' sod."
Angel quietly replied, "You started it. You brought me here, and now this has to be finished."
Buffy shivered in understanding of their quiet, almost sonically unassuming exchange and wondered how long her torture would continue. Spike got up off the stone coffin he'd been sitting on, watching his lovers' exchange in a sinful melee of self-disgust, anger, sorrow and growing arousal.
As the blonde vampire searched the contents of the 'toy chest' he and Buffy had come to make good use of in the past months, his uncertainty at calling Angel grew. A struggle raged within; part of him wanted to see Buffy whipped and bleeding, begging for mercy and pledging herself only to them. A part of him knew Angel wouldn't stay, no matter how much he pleaded for his Sire to return for good and live on with him and Buffy. And a part of him was afraid of what Angel would do to Buffy tonight.
As Spike pulled the last of the three whips he knew were Angel's favourites from the chest, the younger vampire wondered how he could convince Angel to stay on as Buffy's Husband, as well as his own. For when Spike had felt the pull of Buffy lying broken and degraded in that alley, when he had through blood and kin called Angel without words - while he himself rode back to Sunnydale at a speed that would have gotten him stopped twice had the police been able to chase him down - Spike knew he wanted more. More than him and his lady love fucking blindly through their desolate mindscapes, inserting whatever they could whenever and wherever they could through the mesh of life and death blood that separated them from ever truly being together. He wanted Buffy to stop having to always be the strong one, he wanted to stop always having to be the strong one. Angel could help with that tonight; but Spike knew he wouldn't stay.
When Spike reached the top of the stairs, the scene before him sent a jolt straight to his shaft and caused him to drop one of the braided, goatskin whips he carried. His princess of lust and loss stood facing the cold unforgiving grey stone wall, and Angel stood behind her. The dark vampire's large hand caressed her left shoulder sensuously, and suddenly Spike wondered why he had ever resented the history the two had shared; his lovers clearly were meant for porn shoots. Angel was barely caressing Buffy's shoulder, his thick thumbpad running light circles around the edge where her arm met her back. Her head was drawn back in mute ecstasy, and the blue orgasmic fluid streaking her face only added to the beauty of their coupling. But that wasn't all. While his left hand brought her sensual pleasure, Angel's right hand was at her breast, squeezing an agitated nipple past the point of comfortable pain.
Suddenly, the moment was broken, and Angel turned, without stopping his ministrations, to his Childer and said, "Are you gonna stand there and jerk off or hand me a fucking whip, bitch-boy."
It wasn't truly meant as a display of dominance to his Childer, but it would stop him from crying like a six foot infant before the woman he was supposed to dominate and the man he was supposed to be indifferent to. But his hands where they had longed to be for so long, so near to whom he had wanted to be inside of for so long...he couldn't stop the tears completely, and the severity of his sentence was tempered by the rose tinged wetness in his eyes. He just wished he didn't have to hurt her. But he knew that if he didn't, she would find someone who would.
And as long as he convinced himself that her underlying need for submission was the reason he'd come 97 miles in pouring rain that had followed him the whole way here to see what he could never again have, he could deny to himself that he wanted Spike to be happy, and that he wanted no one else to have Buffy. And if he had to tie her up and make her beg until her clit popped and her back bled and she didn't know up from down but that his and Spike's names were Master, he would drive 9,700 miles to do it.
Buffy never heard the tremor in Angel's voice. How this thing behind her that was filling her with arousal and self-disgust greater than what she had felt on her hands and knees sucking her own ass scum-cum-spunk off a metal-und/h/ead on an alley floor was like what she felt whenever she was near Spike - anticipation and horror at once. And so she wasn't surprised when she heard Spike answer, "don't get your knickers in a twist, luv," as she heard the almost imperceptible aerial swish of a goat-skin whip she had used so often on Spike flying across the room and into what she knew was Angel's waiting hand.
Deadly silence for a moment, and then his voice in her ear; it still shocked her that she couldn't always tell when he was near since he made no sound that was not deliberate.
"Are you ready, Buffy?"
"I hate you."
The admission was quiet, but it struck him like the fist of the Beast. This is what he'd wanted, or so he'd told himself. For Buffy to hate him, and to simply understand that he would only be there in case she got out of line with Spike. He didn't expect it to hurt this much. But what happened next shocked him to his ensouled core. It was as if Angelus had pooled his strength, waiting for years until it could emerge through the cruel hand of it's confining soul .
The first blow of the whip cut down her back, reddening the skin with a mark that would hold for days on a normal human. It didn't penetrate the skin, but the desired effect was the same; Buffy threw back her head in unexpected pain and screamed. Spike had never hit her this hard.
Her lover, meanwhile, looked on at the scene with clenched fangs, seeing his woman hurt (by anyone other than him) was difficult, but he knew that he would rather her screams tonight than have to spend his days tracking down all whom Buffy had fucked and torturing them to death. Not that he was opposed to the fun of it all, but repeated torture became tedious after a while. And nothing would erase the knowledge that his Buffy, his whore, his... Slayer, Their Wife... had been touched by another.
The second crack of the white goatskin curved around the edges of her back, hitting her midway up her back and creating a dancing arc around the austere line that already ran from shoulder to tailbone. This went on for some time, until her back was covered with marks and bruises that marred Buffy's lovely honey skin. Her moans had quickly quieted into choked sobs; Buffy did the best she could to hold back the evidence of her pain, but she couldn't stop the tears that flowed like salted honey down her flushed cheeks.
Angel looked over at Spike, his vampyric visage shifting back into that of a human before he allowed himself to become fully consumed with punishing Buffy for her transgression against his Childer, her own body, what they had agreed...but then, they hadn't agreed to anything.
Spike looked at the frightening vision of a Sire that stood twenty feet from him. Angel's eyes were drawn to narrow slits as he fought to regain consciousness from the demon, and his uneccessary breathing wore bizarrely on the vampire, making him look like an asthmatic human. Knowing what was expected of him, the younger vampire threw his Sire the short crop.
Angel paused for a moment, wondering if perhaps he had gone too far. Wondering what was he doing here, beating the woman he had left, for cheating on the Childer whom he had left, for feeling uncontrollable sensations while being brutalized by the males and female he found himself now wanting to kill for far different reasons than protection of 'the mission'.
Then Angel whipped Buffy's ass with the short crop so hard an unstoppable scream turned in it's journey's middle to a swooning gasp. She deserved it. She had sought out Scoli on her own. The vampires who had harmed her would be summoned back into being so he and Spike could torture them properly before sending them back to a dusty grave. The Siliro would meet a similar fate once tracked. And Buffy, Slayer of Gods and Monsters, would be punished for her slutty transgression.
Angel beat Buffy's ass harshly, causing silent sobs to meld with heart-rending screams. They were peppered by the cute little yelps she'd give whenever Spike would beat her during one of their games.
When it was over, Angel stood back and admired his handiwork. His jilted lover's back was a deep tropical fuscha, and her head was lowered in submission and defeat. His job here was done. The bitch had better behave or else the next time he drove down here he'd use a bullwhip. The raven haired vampire then turned to leave.
Buffy heard the whip being tossed aside, and then suddenly he was in front of her, kissing her. Her chains... he'd taken them off the hook and now he was kissing her. And instead of responding with fury, Buffy responded by kissing him back. She would always hate herself for this, but she would always want him. Always love him.
And then Spike was in it.
The blonde vampire held the Slayer from behind, pulling her bound wrists back to gain better access to her captivating belly, which he kneaded with one hand while he groped greedily for Angel's cock.
Somehow it happened and in moments they were undressed, all three of them stripped naked from wet and shredded clothes that had been holding them back from each other. Somehow the door had been closed, and somehow Buffy's chains had come off. She kissed her lovers with wild abandon, not caring anymore whether she was a slut, a whore, a failed Slayer. All she wanted was them. Now.
Suddenly, the door burst open with such fury that for a moment, neither of the three noticed. A clearing throat brought their attention to the broken door, and the three supernatural beings stood dumbly looking at the odd sight of a dozen metal und/h/ead vampires who stood in the rain with with a set of No-Rust Michelline Tire chains and a bag of Corner Store's Luv-U-Long-Tyme Berry Cherry Lube among them.
Their leader, Tac, said in fear-tainted bewilderment at the site of a nude Death Goddess surrounded by her infamously cruel lovers, both of whom were reputed to kill their own kind,
"..but we heard..."
Buffy, Spike and Angel stared at the metal gang, each eyeing the other in shock for a scant, but seemingly endless moment.
Then Angel and Spike were upon them, leaving Buffy chained, humiliated at being left out of the fight, and slightly annoyed that the number of mortal enemies who'd seen her nude this day had just grown. She didn't notice that she herself wanted none of their 'affections', nor did she feel any shame in her nudity. She was just pissed, bruised and horny.
Buffy quickly followed Angel and Spike outside, arriving in time to see Spike drive a large, spear shaped earring through it's owner's heart.
Now only they remained.
The moment was tense. They all knew why they were here.
And then Angel pulled Buffy into the drenching mud between them, and kissed her again. Hands that had just killed with rabid cruelty ravishing her body with abandon. Spike thrust two fingers into her well-used, yet still-tight anus, making both of them gasp as his long, thick digits slid past the stubborn ring of muscles that was futile to bar invaders. Buffy came suddenly, her orgasm ripping through her body with Angel's thumb on her clit and Spike's fingers up her tight asshole. She bucked wildly under the torrential rain, splashing mud onto herself and her mates. As her orgasm took her unexplored heights, Buffy leaned forward towards Angel and sought his throat, biting him with her blunt teeth as fresh tears sprang from her eyes while she rode out her peak.
Angel growled, lifting Buffy effortlessly. He roughly flipping her body so that his Slayer faced his Childer. Then, half mad with lust from Buffy cumming on his hand and biting his throat, the nosferatu ripped open the fly of his Armani suit and freed his raging erection. Within an instant he was guiding himself inside of her, the entrance to her tight asshole made even more unforgiving by the fact that his Childer Spike was simultaneously thrusting slowly into Buffy's tight cunt. But Buffy had endured enough waiting and confusion for the night. She thrust herself down onto Angel's cock, crying out at the transcendent ecstasy she found in the coalescing sensations of pleasure and pain.
When she had regained her breath, Buffy begged with need, "Spike, fuck me..."
Spike needed no further bidding, and settled on top her, pinning the two bodies of lover and Sirelover beneath him. As the blonde nosferatu his cock thrust into her roughly, each of them felt the pressure that forced their flesh together. The two vampires fucked their female lover, riding each other as well as Buffy through the thin membrane separating their thrusting shafts.
Buffy's orgasm came suddenly and unbidden; one moment she was fucking her demon lovers for all she was worth as part of a supernatural fuck sandwich, and the next she lay still, unable to move as her oversensitized body refused acceptance of new brain signals. A wave of pleasure washed through her like none she had ever felt.
Though she could not move, her soaked pussy throbbed and spasmed, sending Angel and Spike with her over the edge. Both vampires shifted into a demonic visage, and suddenly, in the next moment, all question about their mutual fate was sealed. Twin sets of wounds were created on each side of the Slayer's delicate throat. Each of her Husbands drank deeply, marking her and each other under the full moon and the dazzling constellation of Aurelius, for all eternity.