They slept through dawn and noon, and it was in the early twilight that Buffy first stirred. An eyelid opened, taking in her surroundings, and reminding her of her orgasmic nightmare. Reality seeped into her quiet dream reverie of latex railroad spikes and daisies. She quickly willed herself back to sleep, wanting no part of grim reality.
The second time she arose, it was past sunset, and the dusky crimson afterglow of the sun was fast fading from the sky.
Buffy opened her eyes, instinctively reaching for Spike. It took all of twenty seconds for her to realize that she wasn't supposed to feel panic at the fact that he was gone.
Pushing down the instinctual desire to stay where she was and wait for her lover, she stiffened her spine and wondered if Spike had minions guarding the crypt. Even if he had posted some, Buffy mused, they would be no match for her. She knew that no developed vampires would guard his crypt, since only a vampire with a death wish would undertake such a feat.
Throwing aside the pastel sheets, Buffy ignored the twinge of annoyance she felt at knowing that Harmony must have decorated the bedroom. Cool air assaulted her skin, and it was then that she noticed, more surprisingly, that her chains were gone.
"We don't need those anymore", Spike said starkly in the dimly lit crypt.
Buffy gasped at the sudden realization that she was not alone, and her head jerked in the vampire's direction. He stood across the room, fully clothed, sitting in the comfortable chaise. In his hands lay a copy of the Sunnydale Gazette, which Spike pretended to read intently.
He had actually been engrossed in the front page news until Buffy had risen, and now he shamefully feigned interest in it in order to avoid giving Buffy the feeling of having the upper hand. He had removed her chains, knowing that she would be tired from the serum and that as a human, Slayer or not, her strength recovery would take days just to return to that of an active human female.
Clem had filled him in. The sight of the tearstreaked demon at his front door had created in him a deep sadness, but having every insulting reference in the Satanic Bible thrown at him had quickly curbed his woe and ignited his wrath. They had fought. Temporarily enhanced by the serum, Spike had almost gotten the upper hand. It was only by reading between the lines of the heated slurs tossed between blows that they slowly realized the other was not to blame for their actions. Once this occured, Spike and Clem hugged in the determined rain that had begun to bleed from the sky during the brawl. They had gone out for a feed, and Clem had picked up the number of a cute human chick named Tammy. She didn't have much in the way of skin, but her beauty shone through anyway.
Now Spike understood Buffy's behaviour last night, and almost forgave her for dominating him. Almost. Vampires had drives, and one of the drives that made their love lives interesting was the innate drive to dominate. The constant tug of war that often ensued between vampire lovers led to torrid lovemaking, and did little to undermine their relationships. On the contrary, they caused the nosferatu to fall deeper into love, and play many kinky games along the way.
And something had changed last night. Buffy felt Spike's eyes on her naked back, and she knew their relationship would never be the same. He had won. He had made her beg. She was his whore. She might be nothing more, but she couldn't help giving in to it. It was as if his submission to her earlier in their relationship had created a debt, and she knew she would always give in to him. He wanted to hurt her and she couldn't stop him. He wanted to fuck her and she'd bent over like a two dollar whore and begged him for it. And last night, curled up against him in languid surrender, she hadn't just given in. She'd given up. Buffy had snuggled into her lover/rapist's embrace, and not fought. She had instead taken the simple comfort and protection offered her. And she didn't know if she would ever be strong again.
"We don'?t", Buffy asked quizzically.
The question was brought too sharply and quickly out of her thoughts for her to realize the mistake of encouraging Spike's contemplation of the merits of allowing her to be unbound. Once the damning question was out of her mouth, Buffy quickly shrugged, trying and failing to appear as if she thought asking about her physical bondage was a common, unremarkable experience for her.
Spike smiled, seeing past her pathetic act.
"No, we don't. I'm sorry luv, when Clem came here last night, you were very rude to him, and didn't give him a chance to proplerly deliver a gift. So he left it in the bed and it got into your bloodstream," Spike began cavalierly, before Buffy's piercing look cut him off.
Buffy fought to control the urge to beat Spike across the room hard enough to break his jaw again. Even the fleeting memory of making Spike her fucktoy last night was not enough to pull her from the boiling rage she was now feeling. As Buffy's fists clenched at her sides, she resolved to rip Clem's heart out when she was done with Spike.
"You drugged me?"
Buffy's quiet question echoed in the eerily silent room.
Spike was tempted to laugh himself to dust at her vegeant tone, but his concern for her emotional wellbeing and the lust he encountered seeing her naked and angry subdued the urge.
"Settle down now, luv. Clem meant nothing of it. Besides, if you hadn't been so filled with rage, you wouldn't have gotten the chance to break my face, now would you?", Spike enquired with a hint of steel in his voice.
Buffy looked straight into Spike's eyes and let a broad, brilliant smile wash over her face.
"Yeah," Buffy said with feigned casualness, "that was pretty much... fun. You know you were born to be the bitch in this relationship, don't you, Spikey? Just working your ugly jaw to ruins and pleasuring my cunt was enough to bare... did you like my piss in your mouth, Spikey? Did Dru ever piss in your mouth? Or was Angelus too busy pissing in hers? Always with you vamps and the body fluids. Couldn't stop him then, can't stop me now, you know what I mean? All I'm saying is -"
Buffy's words were cut off as Spike's hand shot out and closed around her throat. He had crossed the room at an unearthly speed. His grip was strong, but not meant to kill her. A master of torturing his prey before feeding, Spike knew how to bruise a human without killing them. His fingers dug into Buffy's slender throat, and her eyes widened in fear as she thought he meant to choke her.
"Buffy."
The one word spoken in the hushed crypt basement reverberated in Buffy's ears, and she suddenly wondered if the drugs she had been given had affected her mind. Clearly, she was in over her head.
Spike was stronger than her, he had proved that last night. As he'd humiliated and raped her, she had felt like an incredibly stereotypical dumb blonde. How often had he let her have the upper hand? Was he just playing with her and waiting for a moment to make her feel as useless and helpless as she had last night?
But that wasn't what was important now. What was important was that she learn to control her natural anger until she figured out a way to best Spike. Until then, she would have to stop herself from hitting him or taunting him or... bringing up Drusilla. For, in her secret twisted heart, Buffy knew she was glad that Angelus had hurt Drusilla. What Buffy couldn't accept was why the thought of Drusilla's pain made her emotions thrill.
"Spike, I'm sorry," Buffy began before being assaulted by the hiss of Spike's breath as he offered her a final threat.
"Luv," he began, letting his voice taper off and his eyes roved around the room as he tried to control his ire.
Spike would always love Drusilla, even though he was no longer in love with her. Buffy's constant barbs at his ex were beginning to grate his nerves. But suddenly, a curious thrill warmed Spike's still heart. Buffy was jealous. So his lover was jealous, Spike mused to himself with a sadistic chuckle that brought the tamped rage in Buffy spiraling to the surface. Before she could engage him in more namecalling, Spike cupped her chin in his hands.
"Buffy, I'd do anything for you. I love you, not her."
At Spike's admission, Buffy turned her head away from him, and a deep pink coloured her cheeks as she realized she had admitted through her actions what she could not admit in words.
"I haven't killed you or sold you on a slave auction, have I, pet?", Spike continued, suppressing his own growl at Buffy's reaction before adding, " That should be enough to prove to you that you're my favourite bitch."*
With that, he twisted her nipple so harshly Buffy felt as if her poor abused nerve endings would be crushed.
As her tormentor casually moved away from her and reached once again for the evening paper, Buffy's rage subsided once again into defeat. She quietly went to the bed, and lay down on it, sobbing.
His mate/slut's genuine tears brought Spike a small twinge of guilt, but the demon within him revelled in her defeat, and his growing erection made him shift his position in the chaise as he struggled to concentrate on the specifics of the pickup being made at the Sunnydale Trust. By blood and claws, these people were dumb.
That night, the paper proclaimed in a small side notice on the front page, the surplus brought in from the Sunnydale Gallery would be delivered to the L.A. mint for safekeeping. 2.1 million, and not enough space in the tiny Sunnydale Trust to hold it. It would do quite nicely. Spike wondered if Buffy's spirits would be raised when she heard they were going to reclaim the money that Joyce's associates had ripped off.
Suddenly, Buffy felt a cold hand smack her ass. She gasped slightly as her body tensed in shock, and turned over to see a maddeningly smug grin spread across Spike's face. The contrast in their positions was made even more obvious by the fact that he was clothed, while she lay on the bed nude and wondering if there was anything left of hers that wasn't ripped beyond wear.
Buffy silently chided herself for getting too wrapped up in her own thoughts to keep her senses primed for a chance of escape. But as she stared up at his handsome frame, she couldn't help her awareness of the fact that he was dressed and she was not. Would she spend the next few hours being once again chained naked to his bed, afraid for her own life until he returned from his kiling spree and... chained her naked to his bad, making her afraid for her own life?
Buffy's thoughts were quieted as Spike's hand gently traced a path down the valley of her breasts to the soft triangle between her thighs, all the while staring into her eyes. Shame and arousal welled up inside of Buffy once more. She wasn't his captive, she thought ruefully, she was his groupie. And all the while, the sick expression with which he stared at her, touching her without permission as if her body was his to do as he pleased with, as if she was his personal twenty four hour Amsterdam window girl, only added to it.
Spike smelled Buffy's arousal quickly and sharply. She was really a beautiful woman, but never as hot as when she was horny. Spike liked to be early when he engaged in organized plunder, but he decided to make an exception tonight and quickly positioned himself between Buffy's thighs.
Buffy was hot, wet and read, his cock sliding into her like a hot knife through butter. For an endless moment Spike's body pressed into her's, his weight pinning her to the bed. He stared into her eyes with burning lust, too aroused to smirk at the fact that he could have her horny and ready for him anytime, anywhere. Instead he was lost in her helplessly pleading eyes.
"Please," Buffy's voice came out a bare whisper floating between them, "please don't do this to me."
Buffy's humiliation would have been less pronounced if she wasn't sure that Spike knew exactly what she meant.
She had meant to say, 'don't make me like it'.
But his thrilling length was inside of her, stretching her ,despite her dripping cunt, to the point of a mildly arousing pain. She knew then that she would always want him like this. And then he moved.
His shallow thrusts were like tiny jolts of heaven to them both. This time, Buffy was not the only one crying. Blood tears streamed from her tormentor's pale face as he possessed her, flesh and soul.
But for Spike, Buffy was the one in control then. He hadn't meant to get this caught up. He hadn't meant to fall in love with a fucking Slayer, he hadn't meant to follow after her like the bitch for love that he could no longer find humour in being. And he hadn't meant to kneel to his feelings or her flesh anymore. Yet here he was, swollen inside of his human lover, bleeding tears that may never stop. Buffy's eyes showed him how much she wanted him inside of her, showed him how much he didn't have to dominate her right now; he'd never had that with Dru.
As his thrusts deepened, Buffy's mouth opened in an "o" of surprise, fear, shock, and arousal. The expression on Buffy's face agreed with both the man and the demon in perfect harmony, and he struggled not to shoot his load inside of her right then. But he could tell she wasn't ready for her orgasm yet. He wanted her to reach it with him. Instead, he closed his eyes, bringing to mind all of the good deeds he had done while the chip had been in his head, and the resulting revulsion was sufficient to curb his orgasm for a short time.
Buffy looked up at Spike in confusion. His closed eyes frightened her. Was he too scared of whatever it was that they were experiencing? Of not having to tie her up to get inside of her? Or was it that he was thinking of Drusilla or some other bitch while they made love? Could the demonic personality within him not get it up to see her fucking him without fear?
Instinctively, Buffy spoke.
"Look at me."
Her command brought Spike's obeying eyes dead open, and they gazed at each othe with rapt fascination and arousal. Spike's thrusting increased once more, and Buffy's hips picked up the rhythm, driving herself toward a mind blowing release.
"I love you," Buffy said in quiet surrender, less afraid of admitting it to Spike than she had been of admitting it to herself until now.
Now. Here. In this perfect moment.
Feeling her impending climax, Buffy looked into Spike's shocked eyes. God, didn't he know? Did it really take him this long to figure it out, was she... oh god... she would come soon....her breathing became erratic as her orgasm neared. Could she deny her truth so well that even her love could be fooled?
"I love you," Buffy whimpered, her climax a hairtrigger away, " I hate... this...us...but I love you, you're my... ANGEL!"
Buffy's orgasm ripped through her entire body, violently shaking her to the core. Just as it seemed to be over, her body went rigid. She was frozen in pleasure. It came unexpected, assalting her body and rendering her a perfectly sculpted statuelike vision of Aphrodite herself. It seemed to go on and on as Buffy gazed into Spike's ice blue eyes in unexplored bliss, finally fading into a sated emptiness that left her eyes lowering in needed slumber.
Something was wrong. Her eyes suddenly flew open and took in the motionless vampire above her, his entire body emanating rage. Then she understood. Spike hadn't understood.
He had taken her hostage over and over in violence and lust. First she had brought her body to him; Buffy had only allowed her shameful desires to become reality when she dominated and humiliated him to the extent that she felt herself being abused by her own longing. Then he had raped her. Then he had made her like it. He had killed her sisters. But she had still wanted him. She would always want him. He was her god and she was just his disciple whore.
Tonight, he had been a benevolent god. They had given in. But hadn't wanted to lose herself. She had admitted her love, but she still couldn't admit her submission. She hated her submission and their dance with it. She hated herself for wanting it. Still. Might always hate herself. So instead of god, she'd said angel. And she knew he wouldn't understand what she meant.
The vampire above her stared blankly ahead; if she hadn't known him better she might have thought his expression showed disinterest. But Buffy did know him, and despite the amount of calm that pretense would give her, she couldn't pretend that she didn't understand what he was feeling. It frightened her deeply.
Spike wondered how many times he'd fucked Buffy wondering if she'd been secretly thinking about Angel. He was careful not to move. If he did, he might find himself beating his lover within an inch of her life. Accidents could happen and he might have to turn her.
Buffy dared not speak. She knew that Spike was pissed, and that even attempting to explain to him what she'd meant right now could result in torture she feared to endure.
Turn her. That was the instinct raging into his head. She might never love you, he thought to himself, but she doesn't love you now. You can make her scream like the Hellmouth is opening, you can make her beg like a whore, the whore she is, you can have the balls to stay but she doesn't love you. She says you'll never understand her pain. You can settle for causing it. *
Almost absentmindedly, Spike's eyes raked across Buffy's body as he wondered how much her Slayer's body could take. He knew he could never make her love him if he did to her the acts that were speeding through his mind. But he was a demon. In time he'd get over the fact. Even if she didn't love him, the bitch would learn to worship and obey him. He would make her his, whatever it took.
Feeling his uncurbed erection throbbing below and starting to give him blue balls, Spike gripped Buffy's hips and plunged himself deep into her soaked cunt. He rode her with violence, and if she had not been wet from her previous orgasm, she would have bled.
Buffy felt her cunt contract instinctively, causing the formidable cock inside of her to tear even more harshly into her tender flesh. She quickly suppressed her body's natural urges to fight the invasion, but it was no use. Spike's cock slammed into her again and again, tearing her tender passage as it filled her far past the point of comfort.
"Plea-", Buffy's cry died on her lips as Spike's thrusts became even more frantic and violent.
Her head knocked against the metal bedposts, and she winced from the pain. Suddenly, she gasped in pain as one of Spike's hands twisted her nipple violently. She knew she'd bruise there for days. She looked up at him, wanting to look anywhere but at the inhuman rage glittering in his eyes. But she didn't even consider it, she didn't consider moving an inch in case that move displeased him.
Her unspoken prayers were answered as Spike dipped his head between her breasts and licked a path along the valley. Buffy couldn't help but shiver in unwelcomed pleasure. She felt a renewed wetness seep out from between her thighs, and as she hated herself for feeling arousal for this evil thing even now, she felt the sharp punishing bite of Spike's fangs sinking into her aureola.
Her scream was music to his ears, and he drank the sweet blood that spilled from her breast. It was enough to send him over the edge. Spike felt his jizz boiling in his sac for a disjointed moment before he came deep within the Slayer's pussy, filling her to overflowing.
As his immense yet unsatisfying orgasm faded, Spike quickly pulled his semi-limp cock from Buffy's cunt. It bobbed merrily in the air from the sudden change of location. Then he pulled Buffy up by her hair and brought his swaying rod to her face. It bobbed against her lips, smearing them with the fluid from within her cunt.
Buffy wordlessly opened her mouth and enveloped Spike's deflating, yet still considerable shaft in her mouth. Tears formed around her eyes as she realized her master would no longer be benevolent. This...everything. It was beyond wrong. She kind of wished she were dead. Again. The humiliation of it all overtook her, but she silently sucked and lapped his flesh until it was cleaned of all traces of their cum or her blood. Buffy let Spike's dick slip from her mouth only when he released her hair. He quickly turned and walked toward the stairs, zipping his black jeans as he went.
Once upstairs, Spike reached into the stone tomb he'd been using as storage of things of Buffy's that he'd stolen over the past year. Fortunately, there was a good deal of modest clothing in the mix of brassieres and lingerie. His lovesick logic had impelled him to steal them in the hopes that with her modest wardrobe gone, she would wear more revealing outfits. It had worked, of course. Buffy had never been visually modest, and the items he'd stolen had been mostly recent. It had been Riley's idea for Buffy to wear them.
Despite Buffy's belief that her and Riley's relationship was good, at least on paper and camera, Spike had been acutely aware of the ongoing power struggles in their relationship. He'd seen Riley a thousand times in many different colours and languages over the years. A bible-thumper who took off his cross when it was convenient to feel pleasure from a vampire-bite, a secret mistress, a prostitute working unwillingly in a brothel. They were all the same and he'd seen them forever. Strong only in the presence of someone weak.
Despite his allayed plan to torture the Wheaties cereal box reject to death, he understood Riley's point of view. Now that Buffy was his, she would not be allowed to wear overly tight or revealing clothing in the presence of others, male or female. Her curves and flesh were for his pleasure alone.
Returning down the stairs to the crypt basement, Spike tossed a faded pair of jeans and a loose yet stylish green turtleneck onto the bed next to Buffy.
When she stared at him in a mixture of apprehension and confusion, he carefully released the tension in his jaw and said, "Dress."
Buffy wondered what was going on. Was he... returning her? Once again, she caught her thoughts, stealing herself against her endless thirst for Spike. He was a dangerous killer. He stood against everything she fought for, he was evil. He made her .. yada yada yada. The tenets by which she attempted to bolster her resolve quickly fell away, leaving her angry, betrayed and horny.
"What is this?", Buffy asked bitterly, "Did you suddenly get a soul or something?"
A chilling smile settled across Spike's face as he answered, "Not likely."
His pleasure in watching Buffy shrink back from his gaze took him aback. He knew his demonic countenance enjoyed fear in his victims, but he found his personality enjoying it immensely as well. She looked so fragile there on the bed, nude and holding the dark green turtleneck in her hands. She was defiant and insolent. Spike told himself that he didn't care whether or not she loved him anymore. He understood it to be a lie the moment he spoke it in his mind, but he almost wished it were true. The violent punishment he was thinking of making his lover endure and the pleasure he took in seeing her humilation and fear was both frightening and exhilarating. He might as well help it along.
"We're going to rob a bank."
Suddenly, Buffy laughed. Her out of place laughter in the tension filled crypt air broke the spell dance of predator and pray, of prisoner and of sadist.
Spike was glad to see Buffy laugh. Oh, he still wanted to hurt her, but something had been missing from her during their long night's session of pleasure and pain. There was a spark and a lightness to the moment in which he felt utterly ridiculous for his situation. He was in love with a Slayer, and she didn't love him back. He used her and abused her, and yet she liked it. She loved someone else and he was planning to torture and rape her just to satisfy his urge to punish. And if there's one thing a nosferatu learned over a century and a half of living, it was how to see the humour in things.
Buffy's shoulders shook with laughter. Perhaps it was because she wondered if Spike was so clouded by his own love that he thought this would be a good idea for their first date. Perhaps she laughed because it was ridiculous and out of place in this nightmare going on it's second day; or that she had cried enough tears to fill a river in this short time. Or perhaps it was that she hadn't eaten anything in two days. But her frame was wracked with laughter.
"Spike? Logic here. I'm not robbing anything with you. And you're a good ride, but you should know I'm always ready for more action," Buffy added tartly, letting her barb sink into Spike before she continued more seriously, " I'm still the Slayer. If you hurt anyone... I'll have to kill you."
Buffy's breath caught in her throat as the realization of what she would have to do sank in. The lightness she had felt a moment ago fled from her and her shoulders sagged in oppression once more.
"And I don't want to."
Her words twisted Spike's heart, and he felt as if she held the silent organ in her hand, to play with as she saw fit.
And I don't want to.
Spike wondered then. He wondered what he was doing chaining the Slayer up in his bed. She would fuck him willingly if given a chance. That was as far as she would go. If he pushed her too far, that is if he hadn't done so already, he would lose even that. He was hurting her, and he wasn't sure if he wanted it that way. But then he remembered the feeling of her sitting on his beaten face, urinating straight into his mouth and making him drink it. He remembered fucking her and letting her know through his actions that she was his possession, the primal urge it sated. His cock stirred at the recent physical memory of Buffy down on her knees in chains, servicing and worshipping him. And then, he remembed that he was a vampire.
He walked toward the bed, cupped her face and said, " Come now, luv - no, wait, pet, save that for later 'cause we've got a bank to rob. I was trying to tell you, before you distracted me with your hot quim, that the serum has put your Slayer powers on hold for a while."
Buffy's eyes widened in fear of what this new revelation meant. He had to be lying, and she would have followed that thought in her mind if she hadn't known that there was a reason for her long sleep. She was weak. She felt it.
Spike hadn't killed her yet, and he'd had the opportunity to do so. Not just with her in chains, she would have found a way around that. But when she was utterly defenseless. This was a good sign, if he hadn't killed her after she'd said that one word of a thousand misunderstandings, she stood a chance. She couldn't run. She couldn't stop the robbery, and a small part of her died as she realized that she couldn't stop the lives that might be taken in the process. Not yet. But she could get through tonight.
"Well, then, " Buffy answered tersely, " I guess you don't have to worry about me leaving. I should have known, you beat and tortured Drusilla just to keep her near you... well, until I came along. What are you gonna do, Spike, offer me up as bait to your minions?"
Buffy suddenly felt the hand gripping her tighten, and she wished she'd stopped herself before she spoke.
Spike laughed a cold humourless sound, before saying, "Keeping your legs closed seems to be a rather big problem for you, doesn't it, Slayer? I wonder how you manage to run so fast when you're out chasing demons. Unfortunately for your greedy slit, I like my cunt fresh. So, for now, you won't get to fuck ever Tebla demon* in town. Now put your fucking clothes on."
Buffy wrenched herself free of Spike's grasp and turned away from him, walking quickly to the bed. Silent fury coupled with tearful pain welled within her. Why did he have to bring up what hurt her the most. All the men before him. And her forced submission. The fact that sometimes, she was ok with it.
Despite her pain, Buffy quickly experienced a warm relief wash over her as she realized that Spike would protect her from other demons. So this is what it's down to, Buffy thought to herself as she yanked the green turtleneck roughly over her head. I need Spike to protect me. The thought of her being unable to defend herself, truly defend herself from those she had no desire for, filled her with a new kind of shame.
And as she pulled the faded jeans up her thighs, Buffy wondered if she would have believed a psychic had they told her how her life would be five years earlier. It was small comfort, but it brought some of the eariler mirth back to her. She would have felt more comfortable if she'd had underwear on, but it hadn't been offered to her, and she knew that asking Spike for it would be futile. Sometimes, she really understood the sadistic nature of the vampire. Making her walk around without a bra, especially since she'd gained back her former curviness over the past few months of eating at the Doublemeat Palace, was truly evil.
Spike looked Buffy up and down, curbing his lust and focusing on detail. Nothing could keep him from getting hard around her, but her clothing concealed enough for him to be able to retain some measure of control. This meant that no other male or female, human, demonic or other would be allowed to gaze at her. Her lack of underwear ensured that any vampyric being who came close enough to smell her in the event that he was not directly in her presence would understand that she was spoken for. As for her perky breasts, Spike had decided against allowing her a bra. This was in part so that he could amuse himself with her discomfort. It was a small punishment that would bring him much pleasure, but it would have to do for now. As well, every bra the woman owned seemed to be padded. He'd noticed her natural curves filling out over the past months, but he hadn't said anything to make her self conscious of her formerly gaunt state.
Buffy felt Spike's gaze on her, and uncomfortably tucked her hair behind her ears. As she did so, her arms brushed against her unbound breasts straining beneath the cotton sweater. She didn't know why the sensation made her feel aroused and uncomfortable at once, she had been lying nude and chained for the past thirty six hours, but somehow this new experience made her even more body conscious. At least she could thank the powers that be for small miracles; most of her turtlenecks were steel wool.
Spike reached into his coat pocket and pulled out one of the slim chains he'd used beforehand to bind her to the wall and bed. It was the manacle that fit around her neck. And then Buffy understood. He had saved this torment for last, just to make her feel an added amount of humiliation and pain.
Buffy lowered her eyes to the floor and wordlessly lifted her hair for Spike to fit it around her. Perhaps if she showed him sumbmission, he would spare her the humiliation of having to wear the chain publicly. But she quickly felt the Pylean Bauxite manacle close around her neck, and she looked up with a hint of betrayal only to find that sick, smugly amused expression that left her aroused and enraged at once.
"Don't think I haven't noticed, pet", Spike said, using the word as more than a British coin of phrase, "You've been a good girl. For the past five minutes. I like that. You can wear the chain under your shirt."
And with that, he pulled the top of Buffy's sweater down, sliding the neck cuff over the material and then beneath it. He dropped the chain quietly down the front of her shirt. His hand found it's way to her healing nipple and his fingers flicked it slightly, eliciting and painful whimper from her. Then Spike removed his hand from her shirt, and they silently walked up the crypt steps to the main floor and into the fresh young night.
*"...that should be enough to prove to you that you're still my favourite bitch, Buffy..." . - This line is actually from the fic "The Wicked Seduction of a Vampire Slayer", by Claudia D. Christian. You can find it on her site, named "Cruel Obsessions." It is said by Angelus to Buffy, after she questions his unfaithfulness.
*"She says you could never understand her pain. You can settle for causing it." - This is an adapted line from the season 5 BtVS finale, "The Gift". Glory says the first sentence to Buffy in the first person, and Buffy responds with the second, before hitting her over the head with a troll hammer.
*"Tebla Demon". - This is a creation of the wonderful fanfic author, Buffyfan. It is a demon who's sperm has alkaline properties and can really burn and cause some damage. She introduces this demon race in chapter 5 of her disgustingly filthy fiction, "Willy Fights Back."