Chapter 14, Part 1: Punish Me
[ Read the whole story | Read the last chapter ]
A/N: I went back to the last chapter and threw a glove in the bottom drawer. Originally it was the paddle, but then the glove idea made everything better.
A/N #2: As far as I know, there is no such glove in existence. My imagination goes to freaky places sometimes. I'm sure you're shocked.
A/N #3: In case you've forgotten, Buffy's "spot" in this fic is the erogenous zone-y inward curve of her lower back. There's probably a word for it, a word that I probably should have remembered by now, but alas.
A/N #4: This is only the first third (or half, if I decide to post 2/3rds next time) of this chapter. More to come, toute suite!
The first thing Buffy learned was that Spike could have easily been a rodeo star or a longshoreman with his level of knot-tying knowhow.
The second thing she learned? There were gloves made for spanking. Maybe custom-made, but still. Impressive.
Next, she learned that bondage might just be her thing. Turns out, being unable to fight or speak can have a calming effect on a control freak. Who knew?
But the major breakthrough of the hour was about pain, and how much she felt she deserved it and wanted more and more of it until she and he and the plane imploded into a bright searing supernova of guiltylustyfreakydeakyness.
Spike made her wait, oh he made her beg for it without saying a word. All she heard was his angry nosebreath as he pushed her to a kneel and coiled the rope around each of her ankles, burning her skin in his haste. He dropped the rope between her thighs and dug his chin into her shoulder to tie her wrists in front of her. Casting the pillows off the bed, he pushed her face to the cool sheets, threaded the rope under her body and tugged until her ankles met her wrists. Then he secured the rope to the foot of the bed.
By the time he knelt directly behind her again, and it wasn't a very long time at all, her inner thighs were slippery-wet.
She automatically arched, expecting immediate contact... but he didn't touch her. For a while. She began to worry that he was going to leave her like this, teach her that kind of lesson. For which she would have to kill him, once she was untied.
Just as she was about to pitch a fit, four items dropped beside her head in succession: The paddle. One black leather glove. A flogger. The feather.
Knotting her hair in his fist to lift her head, he said one thing: "Choose."
A hot flush spread down her neck all the way to her toes. There was something so evil about that demand -- and evil was definitely hitting the spot right now. But did she have to pick just one? Would he be starting with her choice and moving down the line for variety, or was he saving the others for another time, a time which would never come? If that were the case, she had to choose the implement she was most curious about. "The--"
He cupped her mouth and gritted at her ear, "With your teeth."
Oh. ...Hooker-style. Barely recovering from the sexy of his voice and the accidental nudge of his hard-on, she maneuvered as best she could to get the glove into her mouth. The glove, she discovered, that was lined with thin metal.
"Drop it."
As she thought, He's treating me like a puppy, this should not be turning me on, she spit it into his open palm.
Setting it on her back, he gagged her lickety-split with what she had assumed was a blindfold, pressed her forehead to the mattress and told her to stay that way. He knelt beside her, aligned her body in a position that pleased him, and picked up the glove. She heard him put it on, snap the buckle shut. Heard him inhale loud and exhale Zen-slow.
The wait was agonizing -- an eternity went by and he hadn't moved a muscle. A drop of his sweat splashed onto her spine. Another. ...Another. ...Another! Buffy began to quiver uncontrollably.
I've been bad. So, so bad. Hurt me all fucking ready!
With that thought, she whined.
That must have been all he was waiting for, because as the strangled noise escaped, his gloved hand came down with such velocity and force that it caused a cold wind. When it hit, she screamed, completely unprepared for the hot-skillet sting of it... on her spot.
The next hit her ass. Then her spot. Then her ass. The pain was horrendous and shocking and thrilling.
"Look at you." Sternly, he probed two leather-clad fingers inside of her and she felt her come pour out before he rubbed it on her spot. "You should be ashamed of yourself."
I am. I am so ashamed.
"You're lucky I'm here to teach you right and wrong."
Yes. Teach me! Teach me teach me teach me wrong!
Another whine, and the spankfest began in earnest. At least six spanks at a time, focused mainly on her wiggling bottom, with random spot-strikes in between. Then he'd stop to check her pussy and rub her come all over her backside while pressing his cock down on her skin.
"You're bright red, Buffy," he said this time, voice strained with arousal. "Covered in welts. As you should be."
Reduced to a quivering, molten mess, she wiggled and whined, hoping he'd hit her again. Her arms were numb, her skin was on fire, but she needed more.
More. More. Again. Please.
"One holiday with me and your voice is gone, your back's bruised, your holes are swollen... and all you want," he said, moving behind her to push his gloved thumb into her asshole and middle finger into her pussy, left hand on her lower back, "is more."
Yes. Yes more.
"I wonder. What will your husband think when he sees you?"
Her eyes fell shut. It was a low blow... but it kind of made her nipples hard.
"He wouldn't dream of it, would he? Even with all the evidence laid out before him. He couldn't imagine you strung to my bed, bouncing on my fingers, begging to be disciplined. Dominated. Humiliated. He thinks better of you."
I used to think better of me, too.
He freed her just enough to grab her by the neck and bring her body to his. "Who would expect such a smart, modern girl to crave pain over pleasure? That you'd be so easily lured into the shadows by the likes of me?"
Easily?, she thought, undulating against him. How dare you. Keep talking.
Pulling down her gag, he dislodged his fingers and stuffed them into her mouth. "Suck on them. Suck all your cunt juice off."
Without hesitation, she followed his orders, licking and gasping and sucking it up like a good little sex slave.
He turned her mouth to his and kissed her. Their teeth collided.
His hot, tremulous breath on her face, he cast off the glove, raised her hips and thrust into her, swift and deep.
"Ohfuck!"
"So wet." Touching her everywhere, he kissed an amorous line down her neck. "Oh, you're so fucking wet, minette. Bloody drive me mad."
"Mmmnh," she said, biting her lip.
Read on... >>
A NOTE ABOUT PLAGIARISM: Don't do it. Call me crazy, but I don't like finding my hard work pasted into other people's stories. If I find out you've plagiarized me or any other author, I will make sure everyone knows it. If you're not clear on what 'plagiarism' means, the definition is here.
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