The Silken Cage: Journey

A.N.  Originally posted as Parts 22a and 22b.

WARNING:  This section contains A2M, which, while it is a kink that appeals to some, ended up in this fic by accident. (It was too long between updates and I lost track of who had done what to whom, lol!)  While A2M may be a sexy fantasy, and I'm all for sexy fantasies, in RL it carries some unpleasant health risks, including parasitic infection.  Readers should not take its inclusion in this work of fantasy as advocacy for the act, nor this warning as a condemnation of it.  Just be careful out there (or in there, as the case may be. *G*)

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His sleeping lover seemed held in the thrall of some particularly lovely dream, Angelus realized when he returned to her side. Buffy had thrown off the sheet he’d drawn over her damp flesh, and enough moonlight spilled into the room for him to see that her nipples had hardened into inviting little peaks, begging for his touch, his taste, his pleasure. She moved restlessly on the bed, but soon her hips took up a rhythm he could appreciate. Head tossing on the pillows, she moaned.

"Angelus," she whispered. He felt himself harden, both in appreciation of the beautifully wanton picture she presented and in possessive lust that even in her dreams it was his name she called, now, not that of that loser soul. He could, of course, join her, give substance to her elusive dreams, but there was no urgency. Better to pace himself: the venom she had ingested would ensure that she satisfied all his thirsts, while the blood he had taken from her ensured that his own appetites would match whatever hunger she displayed. For now, Angelus sat in the chair opposite the bed and enjoyed the show.

It was certainly a premium performance. His diminutive mate writhed on the bed as if she were beneath him, her breathy moans the ones he so loved to hear, her hair spilling across the pillow like strands of raw silk. Her hands were twisted into the sheet beneath her, her legs were spread as to accommodate his bulk between her thighs, and those lovely thighs glistened with his own seed, from their earlier joining, and with her continued desire. Her beautiful cunt was displayed before him, pulsing and pink, quivering delectably as her hips rose to meet his dreamed-of thrusts. That she was dreaming of him and no other was evident: his name was spilling from her full lips in an unending chant. Angelus gave a low growl, hardening even further, and ran a soothing hand over his now painful erection. Before him, Buffy’s hips rose and fell in an ever increasing tempo, her head tossing from side to side, until finally, her entire body stiffened and her back arched.

"Angelus!" she said once more, a prolonged, wailing cry and he watched in fascination as she trembled into climax. Despite what she’d told him the night before, he still might not have believed it if he hadn’t seen it: his gorgeous pet had reached orgasm from the mere thought of him, with absolutely no physical stimulus, at all.

It boded decidedly well for their sexual future together.

It also relieved the last lingering doubts that had lain hidden at the back of his mind as to exactly who and what she’d been dreaming about when he’d walked in on her the night before. However she might dissemble while awake, she could hardly lie to him in her sleep, after all.

Buffy collapsed back against the pillows, her breathing deepening as she sank more completely into slumber. Angelus continued to stroke himself, planning what to do with her when she next woke. He was in no rush. She gave him two more equally stunning performances before he decided that his own pleasure had waited long enough. He joined her on the bed, gently crawling over her and lifting her right leg, draping it over his hip. She was completely relaxed, utterly malleable. And so enticingly wet. He slid into her slowly, easily, making her climax again. He resisted his own release, knowing that there was no need for haste: it would be hours before the effects of the venom wore off. The rhythm he adopted was uncharacteristically slow and gentle, and he teased her into the next release, rather than forced her into it. Time enough for force, later. Variety was rather the point of eternal life: repeating the same old patterns wore thin after the first few decades. Or, so he told himself as he gave Buffy pleasure without exacting his usual toll of pain.

Even in her sleep she was responsive to him, enticing, wanton, uninhibited.

Demanding.

Her arms had twined about his neck pulling him down, her breasts were thrust against his chest, her mouth devoured his hungrily. Angelus groaned in delight as she nipped at his lips then opened her mouth beneath his, inviting his tongue to slide between her lips and duel with hers. He grabbed her hips, lifting her to a more convenient angle, and her arms slid from around his neck, as she hissed in satisfaction and ran her nails down his back. She grabbed his ass in return, pulling him deeper inside her hungry channel. Angelus rumbled into a purr as she thrust against him, tightening her muscles around his aching cock. This wasn’t the uncontrolled spasm of climax: Buffy was deliberately using as much of her Slayer control as the drugs had left her to give them both that extra measure of delight.

All while still within a dream.

Angelus closed his eyes to savor the intoxicating pleasure of her intimate embrace, groaning with the effort of restraining his climax. With aching, deliberate slowness he continued to stroke steadily, teasing that spot inside her that so exquisitely responded to his least touch. Mewling, Buffy shuddered into climax for him, her sheath fluttering hungrily around his manhood. Angelus panted for unneeded breath, desperate to hold off his release just a little longer, just until he brought her one more peak of rapture. He chose not to examine too closely why he was determined to see to it that the lamia venom did not leave her in a state of dissatisfaction, his own stamina drained by her venom-induced hungers. What did it matter to the Scourge of Europe if his bed partner were left wanting, so long as his own thirsts were slaked? But it did matter. The reasons were unimportant: Angelus wanted what he wanted, and no power on heaven or earth or birthed in the bowels of hell would prevent him from getting it: Buffy, wanton in his arms, suffused with rapture, bestowing upon him the same.

Angelus bent his head to press soft kisses to her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, her temple. Buffy’s response was eager, perfect, yielding, hungry. She kissed him back, her eyelids fluttering as she began to wake. He chose that moment to thrust harder, deeper inside her, and her mouth opened in a perfect "O" of ecstasy as she trembled around him, once more. Now, he thought, and shifted, burying his face in her neck as his demonic visage appeared and his fangs lengthened. As she writhed beneath him in climax, he sank his fangs into her, allowing her spiced blood to pour into his mouth and ensure his own climax matched hers. His cold seed jetted inside her, triggering more delicious spasms and he reveled in the perfection of the moment, clasped in the matchless embrace of his true mate.

Still, he dared not take too much. Reluctantly, he pulled away from the crimson fount, licking the tiny wounds closed, his body comfortably at rest within hers, waiting for the inevitable surge of need to rise within her.

Buffy was suffused in languorous desire, passion thrumming through her blood, firing along her nerves, scintillating against her skin. The dream she had had on the beach, with Mai, had somehow elided into moments of wakefulness, and her wanton hunger for Angelus, her carnal invitation, his deliciously demanding response, all had that same dreamlike quality. The border between those actions and the dreams which came next was blurred, and she almost couldn’t distinguish between them, save that the dreams had contained fantastical elements which had seemed perfectly natural to her in the dream, and perfectly absurd upon waking. As delightful as it would be if Angelus could somehow split himself in two, and make love to her with both parts of himself, it certainly wasn’t happening at the moment.

What was happening was delightful enough. Buffy gasped in rapture as her demon lover thrust more deeply inside her, triggering another moment of sweet release, then dipped his head to pierce her neck with his fans, intensifying her orgasm. She surrendered herself to the tempest of passion, held securely in his arms. As the tempest receded, she stretched contentedly.

"I think I’ve healed," she murmured drowsily.

"Is that so?" he chuckled.

"Mmmm. Not sore at all. So, you don’t have to worry."

"Worry?"

She opened her eyes wide, and he saw they smoldered with green fire. Buffy wrapped her legs tight around his waist, her arms around his neck and squeezed her internal muscles around his suddenly re-aroused member while she devoured his mouth with a hunger that outdid anything she’d willingly given him before. Gasping for breath, she pulled away, looked him in the eye, her own glittering with passion, and, in a husky voice told him exactly what she meant about his not having to worry.

"Fuck. Me. Hard."

He was shocked. He was thrilled. He was enchanted.

And, he was all too willing to accede to her request. With a groan, Angelus, shifted position, rising to his knees, and taking Buffy with him. He was kneeling on the bed, Buffy’s body joined to his, in a position that let him go deliciously deep inside her. He grabbed her hips, pulling her down on his aching cock as he thrust himself up into her volcanic heat.

"Tell me what you want," he growled, nipping at her lips.

"You. Inside me," she said back.

"Tell me," he demanded. So she did. In that innocent, little girl voice she described exactly how she wanted him, using words she’d probably never even thought to herself a week ago. She told him how to touch her, how to taste her, how to take her. He found himself bending her backward over one arm, the better to nibble on her pert breasts, while his other arm reached between them and his fingers began to toy with her clit.

"Yessss," she hissed, grinding down on him, her hands flying to his hair to keep him at play with her sensitive nipples. Buffy felt exalted, intoxicated by her power over the demon in her arms. Angelus, Scourge of Europe was devoting himself to her pleasure, acceding to her least request. She wasn’t naïve. She knew that his seeming deference was not the true state of affairs between them. She was as much in his power as she ever had been, but something had shifted, very subtly, in their relationship, and she intended to build upon that. For now, it was enough to free herself of inhibition and convention, and give herself over to desire.

In a few minutes, he had her coming again, but he knew she was far from sated, that while the lamia’s gift continued to flow through her, she would be impossible to sate for more than a few moments. She had gone limp over him, at rest for one of the very short intervals the venom allowed her. Angelus took advantage of that to lift her off his body, and lay her back on the cushions, then work his way down her body, until his shoulders were between her spread thighs, and he could feast on her intimate flesh.

"Angelus," she moaned his name, fingers gripping his hair once more as he slowly tongued her damp folds. Not needing to breath was a decided advantage, as he ate her into another cascade of peaks, one after another rocketing through her as he suckled her clit, lapped her pouting nether lips, stabbed his tongue into her sweetness. He gently teased her roseate back passage, causing her to moan again.

The sensations elicited by Angelus’ tongue against her flesh were enthralling, shocking, decadent. She had resisted some of the ways he’d taken his pleasure with her, but at the moment, with lamia venom singing in her veins, nothing he wanted seemed anything she wanted to refuse. Whatever inhibitions she had were no longer holding her back. As she felt his tongue tease against the tight opening, an erotic thrill coursed through her from head to toe.

"There," she demanded. "Fuck me there."

Her gutturally spoken request nearly had him climax, then and there. Buffy begging for him to give it to her up her utterly delectable, tight little ass . . .did unlife get any better than this? With a final lick, he pulled away.

"Your wish, babe," he wasn’t quite ready to finish that statement in the traditional way. He wasn’t about to let anyone command him. For the moment, that wasn’t an issue. She wasn’t asking for anything he wasn’t perfectly eager to give.

The venom was still having an effect.

"Hurry," she whined, wriggling her hips.

"Patience, sweetheart," he said, leaning over her to get to the toys in the nightstand. In a moment he’d gotten a pair of nipple clamps, one of the oils, and something he hadn’t tried on her, yet.

"Don’t want patience," she complained reaching for him. "Want you."

"You’re going to have me, darling girl," he promised darkly. "All of me. Forever."

"Forever," she repeated dreamily.

"That’s right, my love," he smirked. "Forever. Starting right now." He bent his head to capture a tight nipple, suckled it for a moment or two, then slipped a clamp over it. Buffy whimpered but didn’t protest. He treated the other breast the same way, then tugged lightly on the chain between them. She hissed in pleasurable pain, and arched toward him. He kissed her briefly, then slapped her hip lightly. "Get up on those pretty hands and knees, babe."

She obeyed instantly, wiggling her hips invitingly, once she was in the desired position.

"Easy, precious," he chuckled, reaching for the new toy. The harness he strapped her into held a vibrator shaped like a butterfly, to kiss her clit, while the small thick plug beneath it penetrated her just enough to tease her g-spot. Buffy whined when he fit it into place, but he ignored her as he piled the pillows beneath her hips to raise her to the right angle.

Buffy was trembling and eager, and while the toys he was lavishing upon her were pleasant, they were no substitute for her demon lover’s cold, hard flesh filling her and bringing her rapture.

"Not enough," she gasped as he pressed her gently against the pillows.

"No, babe, it isn’t," he agreed . "I’m the only thing that’s enough for you."

"Only you," she moaned as he hit the switch and started a low vibration massaging against her overwrought tissues. She arched her body in ecstasy, but spread her thighs further apart, clearly not getting quite the satisfaction she craved. Angelus stared at her temptingly spread thighs, his seed glistening on them, and at her gorgeous rump, invitingly high in the air, waiting for him. He grabbed up the bottle of oil, and trickled some down the crack of her ass.

"Mmmm," she purred as he rubbed it delicately into her back passage. Ordinarily, he’d have taken his time stretching her with his fingers, but there was no time for such niceties. Angelus quickly oiled his cock, and a moment later, he moved to cover her body with his own.

"Open for me, baby," he demanded, before burying his face against the soft crook of her neck and suckling on his mark. And, open for him she did. There was no resistance, this time, and he slid into her almost effortlessly. He groaned at the intoxicating, tight heat of her, and at her enthusiastic welcome. Buffy pushed her hips back against him, whimpering in an agony of need.

"Hurts," she panted, "hurts so good."

If there were a vampiric equivalent of nirvana, this was it, lost in sensual bliss spiced with just a bit of the pain and dominance so essential to his demonic nature.

A moment later, it got even better.

Buffy leaned forward just a little, the new angle allowing him to slide in just a tad deeper, and also allowing her to lift her lower legs, in her kneeling position, so that the heels of her little feet drove into his buttocks.

"Harder," she gasped, simply. With a groan, he complied.

Buffy moaned rapturously as Angelus set up a grueling pace, one she’d have protested even a day ago, but which now she egged on with enthusiasm. She thrilled to his complete possession of her, thrilled even more to his complete accession to every demand she had made. Now, in the most explicit terms yet, she told him how good he felt inside her, how much she wanted him, exactly how she wanted him. She described what she was feeling, exactly how he was touching her, and she begged him to touch her some more. Angelus reached around to tug lightly on the chain connecting the nipple clamps, and she sobbed in need, begging for more, as she approached her most intense orgasm yet.

Her tight heat surrounding him, her erotic demands sounding in his ears, her sensual abandon thrilling to his demonic nature, Angelus knew there was no way he could keep himself from joining her, this time. And the closer she got to climax, the more graphic her descriptions, the more heated her imaginings.

"I love your big, hard cock, baby," she crooned. "Wish you had two cocks, filling me," she went on, remembering her earlier dream. "Want to suck you off while you pound inside my cunt, want you inside my wet pussy and my hot ass, want you, Angelus, want you, only you, always you. . ."

"Fuck, yeah," Angelus agreed, pounding inside her, and tugging rhythmically on the chain between her breasts. He fumbled around for the vibrator control, turning it up as high as it would go, and making her shriek in bliss. "Come for me, my pretty bitch," he demanded, on the verge of his own release. "Let me feel those tight muscles clamping on my dick, babe."

"Yes, oh yes," she panted, "make me come on your cock, lover. Give it to me, give it all to me."

Roaring, Angelus pulled out and slammed back in, hard, deep and fast. Buffy screamed her release, and her tight muscles clamped on his dick as tightly as he could desire, making him spill his cold dead seed inside her depths, bathing her in soothing coolness.

They collapsed as one against the pillows, Angelus vaguely conscious of the vibrations of the toy still humming inside her, and transmitting a not unpleasant caress to his momentarily depleted manhood. Sighing, he pulled out of Buffy, but he left the toy in place, humming away, as he gently rolled her over. He removed the first clamp, suckling her freed nipple tenderly, then removed the other in the same manner, reaching to gently rotate the toy inside her, and easing her into a few more gentle climaxes, to finish off what he’d started, until she was, as he’d hoped, exhausted and slumberous once more. Only then did he gently remove the toy and toss it to the side.

Angelus collapsed on the mattress beside his sleeping mate, conserving his strength for the next bout.

Angelus did not immediately join Buffy in sleep. Her words just before she climaxed came back to him, giving him food for thought. He was, he realized, going to have to thank Mai, after all. In a way she had trespassed, giving Buffy some of her blood without first discussing the matter with Angelus, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased with the results. And, in all of this, he suspected Mai was playing a very deep game, indeed. He had told her, when they’d first arrived on Kauai–was it only two days ago?–that if he were sufficiently pleased with her arrangements, he would consider their debt paid, freeing her from his service. He could not fault her arrangements, and would ordinarily have told her the debt was discharged, but the trespass, while yielding delightful results, could not be overlooked. Mai would remain in his debt for the original term dictated.

And he had to wonder if that hadn’t been part of her plan, all along.

Angelus shrugged aside the puzzle. Lamian court politics were too damned Byzantine for his taste. If Mai found some advantage to remaining in his debt, he’d be pleased to leave her there, especially as he could think of one or two things he could, as her overlord, demand of her that were bound to make things with Buffy just that much more…interesting. Smiling at the delights the future promised, Angelus allowed himself to get some sleep.

He woke when his orgasm exploded through him, and found himself shooting his load into his lover’s throat as she gave her best imitation of a vacuum pump. As she caressed his balls and swirled her tongue avidly around the head of his cock he roared in pleasure. She swallowed his seed eagerly, not letting him slip from between her glistening lips until he was completely spent and soft, and then she began nipping her way slowly up his body. By the time she arrived at his mouth, he was hard again.

Angelus gripped her hips and pulled her onto his aching shaft, as she whimpered in delight. But, once he was fully seated inside her lush heat, he let her go, folding his arms behind his head on the pillow, content to watch her.

He had been tutoring her in erotic delight all week long. Now he found she had learned her lessons well.

Buffy closed her eyes, the better to savor what she was feeling. This time he didn’t have to order her to play with her nipples: her own fingers found the pebbled bits of flesh and tugged on them mercilessly. He didn’t have to help her find a rhythm. Her hips moved flawlessly, her inner muscles tightening deliciously. And he didn’t have to demand that she finger her clit. As her passion built, one hand caressed its way down her ribs and across her belly until it finally delved between her thighs. Angelus’ hungry gaze devoured the sight of his lover, head thrown back in ecstasy, one hand teasing her breast and the other her pussy, as his own cock disappeared in and out of her heated core.

Despite the number of orgasms he’d reached with her, holding back another, while Buffy’s lamia-tainted blood coursed through his veins and she rode him in untrammeled and uninhibited passion, was the most difficult thing he had ever done.

It became infinitely more difficult each time she climaxed, and her extraordinary inner muscles tightened their embrace. He found himself slipping into game face, barely able to hold onto his control. Not until she’d reached a dozen climaxes, and he could see her begin to tire, again, did he allow himself to pull her down, rolling them over so that he was above her, once more, and then he let himself go. As he’d hoped, this final climax sent Buffy back to sleep. Exhausted, he rolled off her body, and lay beside her for a few moments, recovering his strength. It was a good thing he’d rested, when he could, but he needed something more.

He expected that Buffy would sleep for a bit longer this time, as the intervals between sleep and wakefulness lengthened. He allowed himself to relax for a few minutes, then slowly eased out of the bed, and padded out of the bedroom, down the hall to the kitchenette.

With all their meals arranged, he hadn’t bothered stocking much for Buffy. There were a few pieces of fruit, some bread and a wedge of cheese, but they hadn’t been needed. Several jars of blood, however, had been much appreciated by Angelus. He reached for a full one, now.

He’d had his fill, earlier that evening, and would ordinarily not require anything more for at least another day. But, his darling girl was really giving him a workout and he needed more than sleep to keep up with her venom-enhanced appetites. Angelus opened one of the cupboards, and found a large mug. He filled it with blood from the jar, set it in the microwave, and heated it to body temperature. He finished it off quickly, then refilled it. The edge off, he allowed himself to savor the second mug, drinking it slowly. There was no noise coming from the bedroom, so he didn’t hurry. He thought that when he returned, he would still find Buffy asleep, perhaps giving him another delightfully erotic live sex show.

He was only partially correct.

Angelus stood in the doorway, frozen into place by the sight that greeted him.

Buffy, in her highest heels, a scrap of lace garter and seamed stockings, her ankles cuffed to either end of the bed, which she was bent over, enticingly, allowing him the barest glimpse of the chain dangling between her breasts, to which she had apparently refastened the nipple clamps. One hand was cuffed to the bed, but the other was not, and her bent position gave him a perfect view of the thick vibrator, glistening with her inner juices, that she was slowly, languorously, working in and out of her hot snatch.

The thing that nearly had him come where he stood was the braided leather whip she had draped around her neck from the front, the handle and the long lash of it dangling down her back and over her firm ass like the ends of a leather scarf.

Turning her head to glance at him over her shoulder, she gave him a look that must surely define come hither and said, softly, provocatively, "I’ve been a very bad girl."

Angelus was speechless, fascinated by the glistening metal vibrator slowly being partially engulfed by her tiny body, and just as slowly being released by it. The only thing to be heard in the room was the liquid sound of the vibrator teasing Buffy’s flesh and her mewling, gasping breaths. It wasn’t turned on, he realized, and she was using it more as a dildo than as a vibrator. He also realized that this particular toy was the one that came closest to him in size, and by virtue of having been made of cold metal rather than easily warmed silicon, was the closest to him in temperature. And, that Buffy wasn’t putting it in all the way.

"Naughty baby," he finally gathered the wits to say, the words coming out in a guttural rasp as his eyes devoured the scene before him. "Did you make yourself come?"

"Getting close," she said. "Just a little more…"

"Uh-uh, princess. Don’t come."

"Angelus!" she whined.

"I’ll be very, very angry if you come," he warned. "But don’t stop what you’re doing."

She whimpered in protest, but he knew she would never have displayed herself for him this way if she didn’t want him to dominate her, control her, overpower her. He didn’t question why she wanted him to do so, just thanked whatever lords of hell were watching out for their boy that she did.

Trying to ignore the rampant erection demanding that he dispense with the toy and simply fuck her where she stood, Angelus forced himself, instead, to walk to the bureau from which she’d taken her toys. There were one or two things she missed. He found them, then slowly stalked over to his mate, and set them down on the bed. He ran a hand lovingly over her quivering buttocks, delighting in her breathy moans. Angelus couldn’t fail to notice the empty manacle, fastened to the other bedpost, just waiting for her delicate wrist, completing her bondage. Smiling, he set down one of the items, but began to fasten the straps of the other around her waist and thighs, over the garter belt. It was the harness for the vibrator, and in a few moments, it would keep the vibrator in place while her hands were cuffed to the bed and his were otherwise occupied. Grabbing her hand as it began to withdraw the vibrator, he force her to pull it all the way out. She whimpered, but the delay was only for a moment, as he settled the ring of the harness into place before returning the vibrator to her sweet snatch, through the ring. Angelus released her hand, allowing her to resume the slow rhythm, then fastened the final strap of the harness. He watched her for a moment more, eyes hungrily devouring the erotic vision, then reached for her once more, allowing his finger to lightly tease the crack of her ass before he slowly worked one inside. Her breath hitched, and she wiggled back against him.

"Turn the switch on the vibrator, Buff, just the lowest speed," he purred into her ear. A moment later, he could feel the vibrations against his finger. "Good girl," he said, once again reaching his hand down to the one she was using to manipulate the vibrator and covering her hand with his own. He contented himself with following her rhythm, at first, whispering encouragement to her, telling her how much he liked watching her be bad for him, telling her it was his dick she was fucking, telling her he loved the way she felt on his dick. Finally, he took over. As her hand began to pull the vibrator out once more, he forced her, instead, to push it deeper than she had seemed willing to do. "Come on, precious, take all of my cold, hard dick," he murmured in her ear, then licked the shell. Buffy whimpered, but didn’t fight him as he shoved the unyielding metal inexorably further inside her. Finally, it was completely engulfed, and Angelus quickly arranged the harness to keep it at this maximum penetration. Buffy was no longer in control of what was being done to her body: she would remain almost painfully impaled on the imitation cock as long as he desired that she be so. A few crystal tears leaked from Buffy’s eyes.

"Hurts," she said huskily, full lips pouting, and Angelus was certain, from her tears, that it did.

And equally certain that she wasn’t complaining.

"Mmmm," he purred in agreement. "I know it does. Now, tighten that sweet cunt on it, babe, don’t let it slip out." With the harness in place, it couldn’t, but he wanted her to feel every bit of what he was about to do to her. Groaning, she obeyed him, as he gently pulled her hand away from the vibrator, and into the waiting manacle. He snapped it closed, took a moment to admire the view, and reached for the other object he’d taken from the bureau.

Buffy had missed the vibrator’s remote control when she’d picked it up.

Angelus took a moment to relish the tableau before him. Buffy’s skin was flushed a gorgeous rose from her arousal and the continued stimulation of the venom. The height of her heels forced her up on her very tip toes, the muscles of her calves and thighs wonderfully delineated, and further accented by the naughty black seam of the stockings. Her bonds would excite any vampire, but the knowledge that she herself had chosen them, had willingly placed herself in bondage to please her demon lover was the most arousing part of the entire scene.

Next to the erotically dangling braided whip.

Angelus almost didn’t trust himself to keep looking at her. He shut his eyes and fought for control, then opened them again and reached out for the handle of the whip. Very gently, he lifted it, letting the lash slide up her back and around her throat, in a sensuous caress. Buffy moaned in anticipation.

As she felt the leather slide against her skin, Buffy prayed that her brainstorm worked. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but suspected it had something to do with Mai and those damned berries. It was a bit like what had happened the first night, when Angelus took her out to dinner on the beach, but somehow even more intense. All she knew was that she was insatiable tonight, out of her mind with desire.

But not completely mindless, after all.

Angelus liked her willing, but he also liked his sex rough. It was part of his demonic nature, one Buffy had no choice but to come to terms with. Her own nature, as a Slayer, ensured both that she was harder to damage than a normal human woman, but also, that her appetites were a little darker, a little rougher, than the human norm.

Yet still not as dark or rough or as enamoured of pain as was her demon.

The trick was to satisfy his need for dominance and torment without allowing herself to be damaged. She fervently hoped that her current scheme would work.

Angelus wanting to be dom was a given, and a taste for bondage and torture was inextricably linked to his vampiric proclivities. Donning bondage paraphernalia and chaining herself up for him would, she knew, be a huge turn-on. It acknowledged his mastery over her, his right to dominate her, and her own willingness to be submissive to him, to accept even some of the more brutal expressions of his affection for her. Playing with the sex toy, given that he had liked watching her pleasure herself before, also seemed something calculated to turn him on.

The whip was a gamble.

Buffy was not particularly thrilled with it, and very reluctant to use it. But, when he had introduced it into their love play the other day, she had understood that she would have to deal with the whip, sooner or later. Despite his speech about how vampires enjoyed the pain the whip could make them feel, she knew he wasn’t about to wait until he made her a vampire to introduce her to that particular variation on a sexual theme. The only thing she could do was get him to use it when he was as mellow as the demon ever got, and not terribly interested in hurting her. And, when her own responses had somehow been enhanced. Buffy blushed as she remembered some of the things she had done, had let him do to her, earlier in the evening. They were things she would never have even thought about allowing, but caught up in the moment, and with whatever drug or magic potion had been in the berries Mai had fed her, she was much more receptive to them. She knew, intuitively, that even the whip might not be so bad, in her current state, and realized she would never have a better opportunity to diffuse Angelus’ interest in such things than now.

With trembling hands, she had removed the whip from where it lay coiled in the drawer, and draped it, she hoped fetchingly, about her throat. As Angelus delicately removed it, she prayed she had not miscalculated.

But for several excruciatingly long seconds, she wasn’t sure.

Then she felt the braided leather slide softly against her flesh, making her shiver in response. As she had feared, it felt erotic rather than terrifying, and she was getting even hotter than she had been before. Her only hope was that Angelus was too turned on by her wanton display to want to spend much time with the whip, and that what time he did spend with it wasn’t particularly damaging. Helpless, Buffy closed her eyes and waited for what would come.

Angelus was utterly enthralled. Buffy was exquisite in her carnal display, the intoxicating musk of her arousal most deliciously spiked with the hint of a scent of fear. He had never had a partner to equal her, because she was, herself, incomparable.

And she belonged only, utterly, always to him.

Angelus smiled. Eternity had never looked so good than as seen from before Buffy’s artfully displayed, willing body, knowing that her eternity was inextricably linked to his own. Pleased, Angelus trailed the whip gently up her spine, nudged up the speed on the vibrator to medium, while quietly whispering to Buffy a reminder that she was not allowed to reach her climax without his permission. A moment later her soft sobs as she struggled to obey him pleased him even more.

Angelus forced himself to maintain control. He stepped away from his enticing captive, and fell back a few paces, until he judged he was far enough distant. Then he lifted the whip.

As the first blow stung across her buttocks, Angelus ruthlessly pushed the vibrator to its highest speed. Buffy screamed in a perfect balance of torment and delight. The whip had been wielded with his lightest touch, and the skin did not break, merely reddened gorgeously. As soon as the blow landed, he cut the vibrator off, and flicked the whip away, readying himself for the next lash.

"Thirty, I think," he mused aloud. "Seems like a good number, don’t you agree Buff?"

"Y-yes," she gasped out, knowing better than to argue.

"Only twenty-nine more before you can come," he promised her, then began to count out the longest moments of her life.

Two, three, four, five. As each blow fell, the vibrator thrummed against her sensitive tissues, promising an extraordinary orgasm that was, each time, cut off when the vibrator stopped as the whip was pulled away. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. The blows were falling on her back as well as her bottom, now, and still too lightly to leave more than a briefly reddened stripe that faded in moments. Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. She was halfway there now, but the torment was so exquisite, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could last. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Buffy was sobbing openly, the constantly denied orgasm becoming nearly as painful as the lashing of the whip. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four.

The pain had been manageable until know, and she had been certain she’d done the right thing. But now, things were spiraling out of her control. The constant blows, though light, were excruciating, but not as excruciating as her need to come. Horrified, Buffy realized that she was eager for the next blow to fall, knowing it would bring her that much closer to the longed-for release.

And then, Angelus changed the game, the blows of the whip falling more quickly, the vibrator humming almost unceasingly inside her.

Twenty-five. Buffy whimpered and gasped.

Twenty-six. She groaned aloud.

Twenty-seven. Dear heaven, she was so close.

Twenty-eight. "Please," she begged.

Twenty-nine. "Yes!" she shouted.

Thirty. "Angelus!" she screamed as the final blow cut across her thighs, the tip of the whip delicately catching her clit and she plunged over into a gorgeously prolonged orgasm, completely unaware that the vibrator had been shut off as the final blow had fallen.

Panting, Angelus tossed the whip aside and prowled over to his lover. Vampiric strength served to tear the harness asunder, and he quickly removed the vibrator so that he could plunge into her shaking form. Buffy shrieked as another orgasm hit her before the first had faded. Angelus rode her hard, licking at her back where the whip marks had all but faded away, and tugging at the chain dangling between her breasts. A third orgasm crashed over her, and a fourth, before he finally allowed himself to join her, spilling his seed inside her with a roar. They were locked together in climax for long endless minutes, before collapsing together onto the bed.

Angelus allowed himself a few minutes respite, then moved off of his quiescent lover, and quickly undid her bonds. With a groan, she crawled up the bed, leaving her high heels on the floor, and collapsed, again, against the pillows. He crawled onto it at her side, and gently turned her over. The nipple clamps were still in place, and he didn’t want to leave them on too long. He quickly removed them, amusing himself by suckling on the turgid peaks while slipping one finger inside her wet depths and teasing her into a few more gentle climaxes, until she fell asleep once more, in his arms.

Angelus sucked his fingers clean of her ambrosial taste, smugly contemplating her inventive responses this evening. His captive slayer was turning into the most perfectly sensual and enticing partner he could desire. A harem odalisque, trained from birth in the erotic arts for the pleasure of a medieval sultan could not have been more exquisitely talented in carnal delight.

He wondered what other delicious games she might come up with, before the lamia venom worked its way out of her system.

He didn’t have long to find out.