Blocker
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Chapter Four: First Step
"So, how's it feel?" Anya yelled across the table at the noisy and crowded Bronze.
Willow looked startled, "How does what feel?"
"Being married," Anya said dreamily, once again caressing the engagement ring on her finger. "It's been almost two months, don't you feel different?"
Willow smiled and moved over to the empty chair next to Anya, glancing over to where Spike was once again dancing with Dawn. Dawn looked giddy. Spike looked like a hungry predator. If he didn't have that talk with her soon, she was going to be forced to take matters into her own hands.
She leaned in closer and confided, "Anya, I didn't feel any different when I got married and I don't feel any different now. When I - what we," she was trying to explain this in a way that the sometimes emotionally stagnant ex-demon would understand. "It's like when someone pays for something with a check."
Anya looked utterly confused and Willow didn't blame her. Willow went on.
"When you get the check, that's not money, it's just a voucher for money that will be paid to you. But you still feel richer, don't you?"
Anya nodded, still not quite understanding what connection selling goods and services for an extremely handsome profit had to do with being married.
"You don't get the money until a few days later. You deposit the check in the bank and when the check clears, the money is now in your account and you can spend it."
Anya nodded again.
"But do you feel richer?" Willow asked, "When the check clears, I mean?"
"No," Anya said, "That money was mine as soon as I got the check and they legally have to give it to me. It's the law." Anya smiled, loving the way the modern banking system worked - even if it did expunge the notion of Debtor's Prison, which to her, had been an excellent solution to a ghastly problem. If one couldn't pay his debts, they should put him in prison until a rich relative could pay for him.
"Yes," Willow said, smiling. "Getting married is sort of like that. It's the check clearing. It's legally getting something that you already knew was yours to begin with. You're richer when you get the check, not when it clears. You felt richer when Xander gave you his love, not when somebody else signs a piece of paper and tells you you're allowed to have it."
Anya frowned, she hadn't thought about it this way before. Maybe getting married wasn't the utterly special, life-changing event she thought it was. Then she looked at her ring, and over at Xander, who was deep in conversation with Angel. Xander was what made her feel wonderful. Xander and his inappropriate jokes and his shy grin and his comments about what she should and shouldn't say in public.
Xander standing in her bedroom and telling her that he was 'painfully, powerfully in love' with her. That she alone made him feel like a man.
She turned back to Willow and smiled. "You're right, I'm his with or without a marriage certificate." Willow smiled, happy that she had been able to make Anya understand what she meant; and overjoyed that Anya felt so passionately about the only person still left in the world who loved her before she figured out that she deserved it. Her mind pictured Jesse for a moment and she pictured him whispering with Xander, deep in conversation over things they declared were none of a girl's business, even if the girl was Willow.
"But I'm still having a big wedding," Anya clarified. "And as my very wealthy friends, I expect an extravagant gift from you and Spike."
Willow nodded, not really paying attention; her mind was still on memories of Jesse. She turned instinctively and looked toward Xander; and was startled to see him huddled together with another dark head. Xander and Angel had been getting along entirely too well since their trip to Vegas. It did not bode well for the future; she was pretty sure that Xander being chummy with vampires was a sign of the apocalypse.
Angel rose and walked over to the empty pool table and picked up a cue, looking, for all who might be interested, like he had no idea which end of the stick to use. A couple of UC Sunnydale students came over and offered to show him the ropes, and Angel - effecting a strong Irish accent - looked delighted at the prospect.
'Now I know what they were whispering about.'
Dawn caught her attention as she returned to the table, breathing heavily from the exertion of dancing for twenty minutes with Spike. Spike, for his part, did not breath at all, let alone heavily and barely glanced their way as he dropped his leather duster on a chair and, while mussing up his hair and buttoning up his blue shirt to the collar - and looking, as much as he could anyway, like a dork - sauntered over to where Angel was getting a lesson in billiards.
"I say, chaps," he said in the hokiest English accent she had ever heard, "This looks like a spot of fun. Could I join, do you suppose?"
She and Dawn simultaneously rolled their eyes and burst out laughing. Xander swatted a hand at them and told them to be quiet; he and Angel had worked it out and if all went well, tonight he'd have a nice start on his Wedding Fund.
"Why do you get the money?" Dawn asked. "Spike and Angel are doing the hustling."
"They don't need the money," Xander pointed out, "They do it for kicks. Besides," he said, lowering his voice. "I told them which pigeons had the richest fathers."
"Ah," the three women at the table said simultaneously.
The following week a Disortath demon killed a classmate of Dawn's. Buffy and Spike were wearing themselves thin trying to catch it, but it was a shape-shifter and not easily identifiable. Willow and Tara spent day and night at the Summer's house, protecting Dawn with their magicks whenever neither Spike nor Buffy were there to watch her themselves.
One night Buffy fell asleep in bed with Dawn and when Spike returned from patrolling he went ballistic on her for relaxing her guard when there was something out there that was preying on little girls.
The resulting battle had broken much of the Summers' furniture and knocked a hole in the wall from the stairs through to the dining room.
Willow, Tara, Dawn, Joyce and Giles made themselves comfortable in the basement during the row, pretending to play gin rummy. As a crash of glass sounded from above, Giles threw down his cards. "He acts like she's his sister, not Buffy's!"
Dawn pointed out, "Um, she is sitting right here. And I like that Spike wants to protect me, okay?"
Joyce smoothed Dawn's hair. "I know, Dawn. Spike's always been your guardian angel."
Tara laughed, Giles harrumphed.
"Maybe I should rephrase that." Joyce said.
"Um, yeah!" Dawn said, indignant. "Spike is nothing like Angel. Angel's all blech and broody and Spike's… well, Spike's kinda…" her eyes got far away and misty and Joyce decided it was time to put a stop to the destruction of her house. If for no other reason than her no longer having to see that all-too-grown-up look in her daughter's eyes.
She stood - it was then that Spike and Buffy knocked each other through the dining room wall and they all ran upstairs to make sure no one was dead - or dust.
The following night, while out on patrol, Xander staked a vampire that was running from another vampire. The vamp turned to a gelatinous blob of ectoplasm and the Disortath demon was miraculously disposed of.
The victory celebration lasted for exactly thirty-six minutes, when Anya informed them all that having a hero for a fiancé made her hornier than she'd ever been before and liquid latex was definitely called for.
The room cleared faster than the stands after Ireland won the World Cup.
Spike and Willow drove the girls home; Spike was still not allowing Dawn to go anywhere without escort. After Buffy and Dawn had been dropped off, Spike pulled Willow across the front seat for a kiss that curled her toes and asked Tara if she was wearing knickers.
"You seem to be exceptionally amorous lately," Willow told him with a smile.
"I'm always exceptionally amorous when my favorite girls are around," he told them, then thought about it. "I'm amorous when you're not around as well, but then I come find you, so… works out nicely, doesn't it?" he leered.
"All your favorite girls?" Willow asked.
He didn't like the sound of that.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, come on, Spike," she told him, cutting through his 'trying to be above it all' demeanor. "If you don't have that talk with Dawnie soon, I'm going to do it for you!"
Tara was getting worried. "W-What talk? What about Dawnie?"
Willow turned toward her, "Spike thinks Dawn is his."
Tara nodded. "I know."
Spike seemed shocked, "You know? What d'ya mean, you know?"
"I thought everybody knew," Tara said, not understanding what she had said wrong.
Willow smiled, "You are kind of obvious, Spike."
"I am not."
Willow rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She turned back to Tara, who sat on her other side. "Spike wants Dawnie," she informed Tara, "For… for… well, a childe, for one thing."
Tara nodded, still nothing she hadn't expected.
"And he is kinda jealous about anyone touching something that's his without his permission," Willow prompted.
Knowledge dawned on Tara. "So he wants to…"
"Exactly!" Willow smiled.
"Is there any rush?" Tara asked, knowing what was inevitable, but wanting to look out for Dawn's best interests. "She's only-" she broke off, thinking.
"Sixteen and a half," Willow informed her.
Tara's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Yup."
Tara looked up at Spike, "You'd better talk to her soon, Spike, if you want to - you know - first." Her face creased for a moment. "You won't make her, though?" she asked. "If she doesn't want to?"
Spike was appalled. "Of course not! What do think I am, a monster?"
Tara giggled, "Um, yeah." The giggles erupted into laughter.
Spike smiled and pulled Tara up and over Willow, sitting her in his lap and driving toward home. "Just wait til I get you home, young lady. I'll show you a monster!" he playfully bit into her neck.
Willow's eyes lit up. "Can I watch?"
Exactly one week later, Dawn walked into Willow's kitchen and was immediately handed an apple and a paring knife.
"Peel this for me, Dawnie?" Willow asked her. Dawn moved to the counter and took a stool and began peeling the apple.
"Hi, Tara," she said to the other occupant of the room. Tara looked like she had her hands full slicing some oranges.
"Hi, Sweetie," Tara welcomed her, leaning across the counter to give Dawn a hug.
Willow was zesting some lemons and limes.
"What are we making?" Dawn asked, removing the pale green skin of the Granny Smith apple in one long strip. "Fruit salad?"
Tara smiled, but Willow answered. "Kinda. But more like liquid fruit salad." She giggled.
Dawn looked puzzled. "Liquid fruit salad? Sounds kinda freaky to me. Is this one of those vitamin and mineral drinks with carrots and celery and stuff, because carrots and celery can really only be consumed safely if they're dipped in peanut butter first," she informed them.
Willow walked to the fridge and pulled out a gallon size Tupperware pitcher that was three quarters full of some red stuff.
"Is that blood?" Dawn asked, shocked. She knew Willow and Tara didn't drink blood and she didn't think Spike would like it if they put all this stuff in his meal.
"No, Sweetie," Tara answered, "It's Sangria."
"As in wine?" Dawn asked. She'd never seen that much wine all together in one place before.
"Yes, as in wine," Willow clarified. "Sweet red wine that we now add all the luscious juicy fruit to - and voila!" she said as she dumped the apples, oranges and citrus rinds into the pitcher, "Sangria!"
She pulled three large wine glasses out of the cabinet. Tara asked her, "Alcoholism doesn't run in your family, does it, Dawnie?"
"Um, no, not that I know of. My uncle Maurice is diabetic and great aunt Lulu was in a home for the reality-challenged for the last ten years of her life, but other than that, I think we're disease free."
"Good," Willow said, pouring wine in each of the glasses and placing one in front of each of her guests. She put the pitcher back into the fridge for later and wiped down the counter before picking up her glass and saying, "Let's go up to the Talk Room."
"The 'Talk Room'?" Dawn asked.
"Oh, well…" Tara tried to explain. "When Willow and Spike first moved in, they didn't have any furniture, remember?"
Dawn nodded, then added, "Except the bed," with a giggle.
"Yes," Tara smiled. "Well, they didn't have the carpet yet either and one night when Willow and I were deciding how to decorate, we sat in that room because it was the only one with some cushiony carpet to sit on."
"Oh," Dawn absorbed the information as she and Tara followed Willow upstairs and into a room with deep rose carpet and cream colored walls.
And no furniture.
"Still don't know what you're going to do with this room?" Dawn asked, her mind filling with ideas for an office or an exercise room. Or maybe a baby's room if Willow and Spike decided to adopt. They'd be such perfect parents. Sometimes she wished they were her parents - well except for the Spike being yummy enough to eat part, that might put her off calling him 'Daddy'. Her mind drifted to a place she hardly ever let it go, 'Maybe not', her brain told her. Willow's voice brought her back to reality.
"No, we know what we want to do with it," Willow answered as she took a seat on the floor and pulled over a big floor cushion. "It's the Talk Room."
Dawn smiled. "Gotcha," she said, plopping down on top of four cushions piled on top of each other. "So, what are we talking about?"
"Drink some of your wine, Sweetie," Tara told her, taking a hefty gulp of her own.
"Oh, no," Dawn said, taking a gulp as Tara did and then choking a little on the unaccustomed burn of the alcohol. "Somebody's dying and you want to get me drunk before you tell me! Or - or - Spike's dust! Please tell me Spike's not dust!" Tears formed and fell down her cheeks, "God!! Please tell me Spike's okay!" she was nearly hysterical.
Willow'd been crawling over to her and now held her hand. "NO! Dawnie, stop. Spike's fine. Everybody's fine, really."
Tara, who had leaned back when Dawn started crying, now sat up with a box of tissues in her hand.
Dawn took one and wiped her tears away. "I'm sorry, guys," she apologised. "I don't know what - you just, I mean, nobody ever lets me have alcohol and you guys gave me some and then you brought me to the Talk Room and I just thought-" She broke off, not knowing how to finish.
"Well, we do want to talk to you about something important, but not bad." Tara started. She asked, "Dawnie, why don't you have a boyfriend?"
"Huh?"
"You're over sixteen and you've never had a boyfriend. Or maybe you like girls and you're afraid of what people will think?" Tara asked delicately.
Dawn shook her head.
Willow interrupted, "Or do you have your heart set on someone? But he's… maybe, already taken?"
Dawn blushed a deep crimson.
"Would this be a bleached-blond bloodsucking someone?" Willow asked with a smile.
The blush Dawn didn't think could get any redder, did.
"It's all right, Dawn, I don't mind. Hell, I'm with him; of course I think he's hot." Willow giggled.
Dawn was feeling a little better; Willow wasn't mad at her.
Tara broke in again, thinking this might be easier coming from her than from said vampire's wife. "But it's more than that with you and Spike, isn't it?"
Dawn turned wide eyes toward Willow, "Willow, I never- I would never-"
Tara took Dawn's hand in her own and petted it while she spoke. "That's not what I meant. You love him. Deep down where it's so buried it'll never get out. You love him, don't you?" Tara asked.
Dawn nodded.
"He loves you too, Dawnie." Willow told her. "What if I told you that you could have what you want?"
"You're leaving Spike?" Dawn looked panic-stricken.
Now at least she knew that Dawn wouldn't try to take Spike away from her. Not that she could. She doubted Dawn could understand the depth of what she had with Spike. She doubted if any of the Scoobies could. They were just human after all.
Willow went on, "Spike feels… a proprietary claim toward you. He says you feel like you're his. Do you feel that way? Tell me the truth, Dawnie, its all right." She stroked Dawn's hair, trying to convey her love for the girl and that all of this was all right to talk about; that Dawn should never be afraid to tell them the absolute truth.
"Um, kinda. Sometimes." She blushed. "Yes." Dawn sighed, "How lame does that make me?"
"Not lame. The monks sent you here after all, to Sunnydale, to all of us, not just Buffy. And Buffy wasn't the only one with the strength to help you. I think maybe they sent you here because Spike was here too."
"Maybe." Yes, she had felt that way, always felt that way, felt a pull towards Spike and no one ever seemed to understand why.
"I want to explain something very carefully so you understand, all right Dawn?"
Dawn was all ears and attention. "Yes."
"Spike is going to approach you in the future, I don't know when, maybe soon. He'll talk to you, offer you something. Think very carefully about it. You don't have to answer him right away and Dawnie, here's the important part - you don't have to say yes."
"But?"
"But what if you want to say yes?"
Dawn nodded, ashamed. Willow smiled. "If you're absolutely sure that you want what he can offer you - only what he offers you and everything he offers you, you won't get any more or any less, than say yes. He can offer you love, Dawn, but it may not be the right kind of love for you."
"And you- you're all right with this?"
"He's my mate, Dawn. My husband, my one true love. We don't play by stupid rules like jealousy and physical fidelity. It's what's in your heart that matters, the rest is just sex."
"What about me?"
"He loves you, Dawn, but it's more the kind of love a sire has for a childe. Do you understand?"
Dawn smiled, thinking about the familial vampire relationships she had secretly read about in the Watcher Diaries.
Willow and Tara knew Dawn understood just fine.
After a movie to relax them all after that rather difficult conversation, Willow was sure that The Princess Diaries had magical healing properties, Dawn went home and Willow and Tara grabbed some more wine, donned their collars and prepared the house for tonight.
Angel had explained during one of their 'lessons' that wearing the collar was essential when doing anything for your master. And both girls had found that the work didn't seem so much like "work" when they wore their collars; it was more an act of love, wanting everything to be perfect for your loving master, who always praised you and appreciated all you had done for him.
New candles were brought out for all the candle holders in the house. The girls took extra care with the colors and fragrances of the candles for the sconces in the playroom. Spike had said that he wanted a peaceful and tranquil atmosphere, where everyone would be attuned to every nuance of word and deed.
Thankful that for once Spike had given her a few days notice, Tara had purchased - with Spike's American Express card; her masters were very generous and Tara was broke, as usual - candles infused with different herbs. Sandalwood, lemongrass and lavender for their calming properties; Rose and mimosa for higher self-esteem (not that she thought her two vampires would need this, but she knew that it was always helpful for her and Willow when acting as submissives to the worldly and powerful men). Ylang ylang, clary sage and birch to ease physical pain, and jasmine and frankincense for their sensual properties. When the candles were lit, the aromas would combine into a fresh, natural scent reminiscent of a forest.
Willow did some last minute cleaning of the bathroom. Spike was rather picky about this point, saying that, although he'd finally convinced Red to hire a maid so that she'd have her time free for school and personal pursuits, he wanted Willow to be sure it was sparkling because Angel had specific plans for the shower.
The boys were always extra inventive after they'd spent a few hours together and Spike had been in LA for four days now, helping the Fang Gang track and kill a Melorr demon, whatever that was. Cordy said she had it covered and Angel promised that Spike wouldn't get even a scratch, so Willow left them to it and concentrated instead on how best to approach Dawnie about her future - or possible future, it was really up to her.
When dinner was in the oven and the table linens and china in place, the girls went upstairs to take showers and prepare for the evening. Two showers turned into one shower when Willow slipped in as Tara finished washing her hair. It took much longer than usual but by the time the water had cooled, both women were very clean and bonelessly relaxed.
As she dried off, Willow checked they clock, they still had about an hour until their masters returned. They did each others hair and makeup before putting on bathrobes and collars to go down and check on dinner. Submissives had very specific wardrobes and neither girl wanted her required outfit - birthday suits all around - to get burned or splattered.
They went to the kitchen and Tara lit the small hand torch and browned the tops of her and Willow's creme brulees. The girls ate and talked, enjoying their last few minutes of companionship before they assumed their submissive roles. With five minutes to go, and everything in place for dinner, they returned upstairs and finished dressing.
The thing both women had come to appreciate about being a submissive is that the submissive has all the power. The first part of that power, in a communal setting, is that the submissive gets to decide who she wants as her Dominant. After a hurried discussion in the shower between kisses, they had decided to have Spike command Tara tonight while Willow would follow Angel's orders.
Each woman went to her room, Tara and Angel both now kept clothes in the guest bedroom, and donned the outfit approved by her master. Tara brought out a pair of thigh high black patent leather boots with straps of red, blue and purple affixed with buckles around the legs. Willow donned a pair of white satin pumps that had been difficult to walk in when Angel had first given them to her but with practice, she now could almost run in them.
At one minute before nine, both women were on their knees in the living room, hands behind their backs and heads bowed in submission.
When the vampires arrived, three minutes after nine, they were both delighted to see their humans kneeling before them as they should be. Not that they had any doubt. In the six months that this foursome had been prolific, Willow and Tara had been apt pupils and Spike and Angel found they could push the women further than they'd thought humans could possibly stand.
But in turn, the vampires had learned to be loving dominants - according to human custom - and weren't the sadistic masters they had once both been. They had discovered, to their amazement, that domination was satisfying on a whole new level when you loved and respected your submissives.
Spike saw at once the boots Tara wore and went to her, knowing that she had decided to be his tonight. Angel walked toward Willow and Spike felt a pang of jealousy, he had yet to dominate his "wife" since their marriage. He smiled, it was fine; he would have a lifetime with Red and he knew his sire would bring her immense gratification.
He looked back toward his blonde witch; Tara was no consolation prize. She had a talent for submission that he was both surprised and thankful for. Her shy demeanor brought a level of heat to his body that he didn't bother to analyse.
He took Tara's hand and helped her stand. Angel did likewise to Willow and asked what was for dinner. Since Tara cooked, normally she would have answered, but Angel posed the question, so it was Willow's obligation to answer. Tara had no right to speak until her master spoke to her directly.
Willow answered, "My sister Tara has prepared a moussaka for the main course. There is a romaine and pecan salad as well and creme brulee for dessert. I hope this meets with my master's approval."
Angel couldn't help smiling - all his favorites. He wondered for a minute if it was his birthday, but since he couldn't remember when he'd been born originally, he didn't think the girls knew either. Or maybe they did. They had this knack for knowing things without being told.
Willow and Tara pulled out dining chairs for their masters then looked for permission to go to the kitchen to get dinner. They both received the customary nods.
When the girls had gone, the two vamps looked at each other and smiled big shit-eating grins. Because really, who wouldn't smile at having two naked and willing beautiful women at their beck and call? Angel looked a question at Spike, wanting to know if Spike knew why all of Angel's favorite dishes had been prepared. Spike shrugged then winked, telling Angel not to question good fortune.
Tara returned first, with two carafes. The first she used to pour out a glass of blood for her master. It was hers, as was customary when she was his submissive, but she'd added a little of Dawn's blood as well. Willow had been overjoyed at this suggestion; she thought, as did Tara, that Spike needed a little kick start on his acquisition of Dawn.
The second was pure Willow and she saw Angel's face light up as he inhaled the scent. She smiled, pleased that she'd pleased him. Even if they did all smell exactly the same to her. She left the carafes beside their plates and returned to the kitchen.
After a few minutes, the girls returned, with two plates of salad each, one for themselves and one for their masters. They placed the dishes on the table, then sat on the floor at their masters' feet. This had been one of their compromises. Willow and Tara contended that subs should eat after their masters. Spike and Angel argued that while that was technically true, they weren't going to eat and make the girls go hungry. So a compromise had been agreed on. The men would start off as was customary; eating the first course together with their willing submissives at their feet. After they were finished, the girls would rise and eat as the men talked. The girls would clear the table and they would all eat together for the main course. For dessert, the men would again eat alone at the table, with the girls doing whatever their masters commanded, usually preparations for the coming night's adventures.
It had been Spike's idea, knowing Willow's penchant for sweets, that the girls should eat their desserts before dinner was even started. No complaints had been raised at the suggestion.
Dinner went smoothly, with everyone playing their parts to perfection. While Willow cleared the table after the main course, Tara went to the kitchen to caramelize the crème brulees. Dessert was served. Willow and Tara knelt on the floor, heads bowed, hands behind their backs, awaiting directions, as the men dug into their sweets. Since no other preparations were necessary, both men patted their thighs and each girl crawled to her respective master and knelt at his side, head in his lap.
Angel's hand ran through Willow's hair as he ate. He smiled. Both hands disappeared under the table and he unfastened his belt. Willow saw the action and took over for him, crawling under the table and unzipping his trousers. He freed his already hard erection and pulled her head down until her mouth swallowed him. He continued to eat his dessert as Willow's mouth licked and sucked him, keeping him on edge, but slowing down whenever his body tightened. Angel loved getting head, he'd told her before that she was to keep him hard but not bring him to orgasm until she'd been given permission to do so.
Spike, on the other hand, had taken two bites of his crème brulee before deciding that this was not the confection he was in the mood for. He pushed his dessert to the side and moved the centerpiece out of the way. He took Tara's hand and helped her to stand, then he nudged her onto the table in front of him. He sat her on the edge and eased her down until she was laying comfortably. Then he spread her legs and ate his real treat.
Angel finished his dessert and pushed his chair back a little, giving Willow some room to play. He watched Tara's body wiggle and squirm as Spike hungrily ate her delicious-smelling pussy. His eyes lowered to Willow's red head and he told her, "Now, baby." Her mouth contracted and she sucked him for all she was worth as her tongue slid in and out of the foreskin on the head of his cock. His hips rose on their own as he shot a load of sweet and salty cum into her mouth. He loved the way she moaned and sucked as he came in her mouth.
When he was spent, he stood, helped Willow rise and led her upstairs to the playroom. He led her to the corner of the room, specifically, the sex swing. He settled her derriere in the seat and then her legs and feet in the appropriate straps. She leaned back into the backrest and got comfortable. The result was that when Angel knelt on the floor beside her, crotch met crotch. When he sat, her pussy was very accessible and positioned at a delicious height. Angel knelt beside her and leaned into her for a kiss.
He pushed the swing away from himself and as it swung back, he aimed for and hit her opening, impaling himself inside her tight sheath. She gasped. With the swing as a facilitator, he took his time, enjoying himself and her in every position possible. He fucked her sitting in the swing, lying in the swing, hanging over the swing on her stomach.
He took her out of the swing and chained her to the wall with Spike's manacles. He made her get on her knees while he fucked her mouth. He made her stand and bend over while he fucked her ass. He unchained her and made her lay spread eagle on her stomach on a pile of cushions while he fucked her from behind. He pulled her to her knees and fucked her doggie-style. He turned her over and took her around the world.
He made her tell him, in minute detail, about her earlier shower with Tara while he voraciously licked and sucked her pussy. He made her masturbate in front of him while he watched and told her about how much he had loved to fuck William. He made her crawl on the floor behind him, leading her back downstairs so he could sit her on his lap, fuck her and finger her clit while they watched Spike fuck Tara a million different ways. He carried her back upstairs to the playroom, fucking her the whole way.
He sat her back on the swing and kissed her senseless.
Downstairs, Tara had, at her master's instruction, screamed out her pleasure. She sat astride Spike, riding him as he sat in the dining chair. She held the back of the chair for balance and Spike's strong arms and hands lifted and dropped her on his cock, pushing him deeper with each plummet.
Spike snarled as he came and his vampire visage forced its way out. Tara dropped her head to the left, allowing Spike to sink his fangs into her throat. The moment his razor-sharp canines pierced her skin, her internal muscles spasmed and she choked him through another orgasm.
That bite led to others. Moving in a random maze around the living room and dining room, he twisted and turned her until she was dizzy. He fucked every opening on her body and kissed every inch of skin.
He pressed her up against the wall, "Open for me," he told her as he showed her his true face. She opened her legs and put her arms around him. "I want to fuck you like an animal," he told her and thrust up into her, lifting her off the ground with just the force of his penetration. He held her there until they both came, his hands on the wall on either side of her face, using only his cock to lift her.
When Angel and Willow came downstairs to watch, he made sure to put on a good show, making Tara blow him right in front of their audience before bending her over the back of the couch, bringing one of her legs up and sheathing himself in her tight heat and fucking her the slowest and deepest he had all night. When he spent himself inside of her, he sat her on the couch and drank their combined juices from her body.
He fucked her again, lying on the floor in front of the couch, telling her - and their audience, what a good, obedient slave she was and as a reward she could now cry out as much as she wanted to. He also commanded her to touch him. Her hands clawed at his back and both he and Angel came when his blood dripped down her fingers.
When Angel and Willow left them, he turned them over and told her to ride him. To ride him like the whore he knew she wanted to be; to let go of everything that she had ever been told about good girls and bad girls. He told her that she was safe with him, always with him, and she could let go and just be. That he loved her, adored her; that her body was bloody fucking voluptuous like a ripe peach and he wanted to be the one to suck every drop of juice out. He told her to be his favourite slut and she was. She became nothing like Tara; she became wild and untamed, a wanton animal and Spike loved it.
With every new position came a new bite. Bites on her neck, shoulder, breasts, stomach, thighs, ass. A little more of her that he took for himself.
She tasted so bloody beautiful. He wanted Willow to be there to taste her with him. He stopped thinking of his wife and concentrated his energies on the girl in his arms and on his cock.
Spike gorged himself on Tara's mystical, magickal blood until Tara finally passed out, her body exhausted from being passionately assaulted by the only creature she would ever trust enough to let him violate her that way.
Completely sated as well, Spike fell asleep, cradling her in his arms, behind the living room couch.
Upstairs, Angel stood.
"Stand!" he ordered her. She stood very quickly. She was almost afraid of the look in his eyes and the sound of his voice, but she stopped herself. She trusted him. His soul was permanent now. She'd done that, her and Tara.
So she trusted him. And even more, she trusted Spike who was right downstairs.
When he said, "Water closet," with an Irish brogue, she almost came he sounded so sexy - and dangerous. She headed down the hall for the bathroom.
"Shower," he said and she adjusted the water to an almost too hot temperature.
"Strip me," Goddess how she loved dominant men - in moderation. She did as a good submissive should and removed his clothing without touching anything or looking at anything he hadn't told her to.
He held open the shower door and she stepped inside, moving into the corner to give him most of the room.
He stepped in and stood under the steaming hot water. "I want to be warm for you," he said.
It wasn't a question so she didn't tell him how sweet that sounded, even if one of the things that excited her about him was his unnatural, for a human, body temperature.
After several minutes, when she could feel the heat coming off of him as well as the water, his hands moved to her shoulders.
"Don't move," he told her, "I want to feel you." She closed her eyes and let him explore her face and her neck.
"Open your eyes, Willow," he told her and she did. "Look at me, look at my eyes." She did. "I want you to know who it is that wants you this much."
She tried not to smile and almost made it. He knew she liked to be spoken to when she was being made love to. He was no poet, no William, but he'd do his best to give her what she liked.
"Do you want me to want you? Answer me," he instructed.
"Yes, master," she answered.
"Do you want me to touch you?"
"Yes, master."
His palms caressed her breasts and he pinched the nipples. She hissed.
He didn't stop, but asked, "Did that hurt you?"
She moaned, "No, master."
He smiled, "Do you want me to hurt you?"
She gave him a sly, seductive smile, "Oh, yes, master."
He leaned in and kissed her. Lifted one leg until he held her knee in the crook of his elbow. "I want to feel you from the inside." His hands circled her waist and he lifted her, her back to the tile. When she was in position, he told her to hold on and he pushed up into her. His head rested in the crook of her neck as he plunged and pounded, thinking with a single-minded purpose.
'Fuck Willow! Cum in Willow! Be as much a part of her as she is of me!'
Willow was hurting, crying, but it was a wonderful kind of pain. She knew how he felt and this was the physical release of it. He pummeled her cunt over and over again, his long thick cock driving inside of her, hitting that perfect place, making her scream in orgasm over and over.
"Bite me!" she screamed, shifting so that her right shoulder was against his mouth. Without thought except wanting Willow, he transformed and bit, feeling, for the first time, the warmth and sweetness of her blood within him.
Angel took her to his bed, spooned in behind her, unbuckled her collar and fell asleep.
He told himself when he woke up in the morning that he really shouldn't have been surprised that she was no longer there.
Spike must have carried Tara in during the night, so he wrapped himself around her soft warm body and fell asleep. When he woke again, she was still there beside him. He checked, no collar. He positioned his mouth between her legs and woke her up.
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