One Man's Hell...

[Hell]

Time passed as it always did here. One blur after another. The visits from Buffy seemed to come more frequently. Usually, it was the one he'd known since he got here. Brutal, angry, snide and cruel. Other times, it was the other one. Kinder, with every bit as firm a touch as the other, but ready with a reward. And with each visit, before she did anything else, she knelt and kissed the head of his penis. And then she'd begin, working him into a frenzy, demanding his obedience, but rewarding him when he finally gave it, instead of the usual insults or heavier punishments.

Over time, he began to watch, waiting for the arrival of the one that provided even a small source of pleasure and comfort. Where before, when he heard the clicking of heels, all he could do was resign himself to a few hours or days of misery and pain, now he felt a thrill run through his body. He fought to keep his eyes cold, however; should the wrong one see the look in his eye, the rest of his time would be excruciating. But whenever she sank slowly to her knees and kissed him softly, even lovingly, he always wanted to gasp in relief.

And over time, when she didn't sink to her knees, he withdrew, even more than usual. He slowly began to refuse to call that one Mistress Buffy, struggling against her every demand. After every visit from the one that brought him pleasure, he fought the one that brought him nothing but pain. He was sure in his mind that it was a ploy, to allow her to punish him more, but he didn't care. He longed for her touch on him when she was gone, and determinedly ignored the punishments when the wrong one was with him.

Before long, that just made her angrier, and now she was taking it out on him. His hands were crossed at the wrists over his head, and a rope trailed directly up to the ceiling, holding him in place. His ankles were similarly bound together, so all he could do was sway as she whipped him. His back was criss-crossed with bloody marks that wrapped around his sides and to his front. His eyes were shut, and he refused to make a single sound of pain or fear, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms and coated them with blood. She was punishing him hard, as hard as she had when he first arrived here and fought her, but he stayed quiet, standing by his disobedience of her.

The sound of the whip cracking made Buffy queasy. Doubled over and crouching behind a pillar, she just barely held onto the contents of her stomach. This was her fault. She'd been able to get him to the point of being more belligerent to that bitch-demon, but this was the consequence. Of course she'd seen the evidence of the increased brutality on his marred skin, but she hadn't seen one of these intense torture sessions.

Oh God, let him give in... let him tell her he loves her. But all she heard was demands made in her own voice, and silence... not even a grunt from him. Her entire body shook as Buffy fought the instinct to save him... to kick that bitch's ass... to whip her until she had no flesh, no scales... nothing left. But if he wasn’t ready to choose to go home, then they'd be stuck here... or he would, and she might never find him again.

Screwing her eyes shut, she tried to think of other things... better places... better times, but the rhythmic flaying continued for too long. When the sounds changed, her eyes fluttered open. Harsh demands for sex and exaggerated cries of ecstasy were inescapable and echoed hollowly around her. Dumb... real dumb she thought as despite knowing better, she crawled around the pillar to take a look.

Oh God. The mechanism that held his arms up before was now at ground level so Angel was laying on his back, his limbs still stretched. The blond demon straddling him was moving and rocking wildly over Angel, her pale legs and arms covered with his blood, her body sliding up and down as she demanded satisfaction.

"Fuck me... bastard... that's it..." she shouted, lifting herself up and driving herself down over his erection. "More, more... Fuck me! Obey!"

Holding her breath, Buffy could see that Angel was finally obeying. His hips were lifting under her punishing ride and the demon's cries were coming quicker. Buffy's nails dug into her palms as she watched the demon climax... watched her laugh as Angel stiffened and arched up... watched her backhand him and rise.

"Permission to come, denied."

Buffy winced as the demon kicked him for good measure, then pulled some sort of hose off a hook. Anger and emotion roiled deep inside her as she watched Angel shake and shiver under a heavy stream of water.

When the demon finally left, Buffy rushed toward him. She couldn't help but notice that he was still highly aroused ... that his cock was jutting up and away from his body in a painful angle. If she'd been angry before, she was livid that anyone but her could bring him to this state. But when she dropped down on her knees next to him, she saw that some sort of ring had been placed at the base of his shaft. Could that have ... The anger left her, just like that.

Blinking, she leaned over him. "Angel," she whispered, her voice and expression heavy with sorrow.

Angel lay stretched on the cold floor, the wounds in his back throbbing as they ground into the stone with his every shift. He shivered from the blast of cold water, and his every move sent a new jolt of pain through his back, as he knew the demon had planned. His arms were pulled up over him as he lay on the floor, unmoving. Her voice penetrated deep into muddled brain, thick with desire and need, his orgasm again denied by the ring around his shaft. She got a special pleasure out of working him up, and putting it on him before being so brutal, using it to try and show him his entire body was completely hers to control.

Even though he heard the voice on a whisper ring in his ears, he struggled to ignore it. It was different, again. But he didn't feel the kiss, that soft, sweet kiss that told him what game she was playing now. When she whispered again, Angel finally opened his eyes, and looked up. She was dressed differently from the one that whipped him and rode him and denied him. Her voice was softer, again, her features a mask of concern. The look of concern was what gave him pause, and for a brief, unguarded moment his own flat eyes went soft, to try and give her some comfort that he was all right. His gaze quickly hardened again when he remembered her instructions. He asked what he needed to know; which persona she was adopting now for sure with a single word, "Mistress?"

"Buffy," she said decisively, this time kissing him tenderly on the mouth first. She couldn't help it... couldn't help him. "Do you want to go home?" Her gut wrenched at his silence, at the suspicion that entered his eyes... a subtle difference, but she saw it. "You have to help yourself. Help me help you," she whispered, lowering her head again, this time to kiss his swollen cock.

"My Buffy," he said with a sharp gasp of relief as he felt her lips touch his achingly hard member. His mouth turned up in a slight, sad smile. Even if he knew this was all still a cruel game, he was relieved to have her here. He looked at Buffy, meeting her eyes. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see her for real. He wanted to taste her for real again. He wanted everything she was offering, but he couldn't believe in any of it. Hope was a dangerous thing here.

"This...is where I belong. Where she sent me for what I've done." He remembered it all, what he did to her after their one night together. After he'd come here, that had been the worst torture of all, his own memory. He spoke miserably, holding Buffy's gaze, "She can't be here. I don't want her here, of all places. She deserves...better. you...cannot be her." And if she wasn't Buffy, no matter how kind she was, he couldn't believe a promise so significant. He tried to shrug, almost apologetically, and winced as his cuts scraped the floor.

She'd been about to praise him for calling her his Buffy, but some of what he said made it clear he still thought she was the demon... or someone else, but not herself. And the rest of it, about his punishment... it made her snap. She whipped her body around, straddling him, but not putting her weight on him. She leaned forward, her hands on the ground on either side of his shoulders and stared fiercely into his eyes.

"You think you deserved it? For doing this with me?" Her question was punctuated by the slide of her body up the length of his cock. She hadn't fucked him... she'd wanted to so bad, but always, she'd taken care of his needs with her mouth, with her hands... But here she was, on top of him in a crotchless latex outfit that was made for sex. "Do you?" she demanded, more harshly, sucking in her breath as she teased his cock and fought the incredibly strong urge to impale herself on him.

"No," he protested through clenched teeth, nearly losing it as she brushed against his aching cock. His hands clenched into fists and his hips rocked under her unconsciously, chasing her feather-light touch. "For what I did to you after."

He closed his eyes against the memories of it all. Of the death and the pain inflicted on good people, all because he'd loved her. He opened his eyes on hers again, regaining focus. "I can't believe she'd come here." He couldn't afford that much hope. His body stiffened as she slid against the length of him again. "Fuck," he whispered softly on a gasp. She was so sexy in the tight latex, bared at the crotch, he wanted her to ride him then, wanted to see this one come again and again, even if she kept the ring on him. It was a dangerous thought to have, close to breaking, but she was so like the Buffy he knew.

Lifting slightly higher, she made all the motions of having sex... arching her back, appearing to ride him, but she barely touched him... giving him some pressure only now and again, and torturing herself in the process. "Buffy would follow me anywhere," she said through gritted teeth, slightly grinding against his cock, and lifting. "Say it..." Touching him again, she gave the order and escaped his cock, making it clear if he wanted her to give him anywhere near what they both needed, he was going to have to obey.

He closed his eyes, rocking his hips, trying to grind against her to get the sensation he needed so much. He tugged hard on the ropes that held him in place. Even the wounds on his back grinding against the stone floor wasn't enough to make him stop trying to reach her. He finally opened his eyes to see her still holding his look, working him slowly, teasingly, but not brutally as he half-expected still. "Buff--" The words died in his throat, so difficult to say. He swallowed and tried again. "Buffy...would follow me anywhere," he replied, his body aching with need.

"Mean it!" Her voice cracked like the sound of a whip.

Holding his gaze, she let his tip rub against her opening, moaning lightly at the impossible thought of having full-on sex with him. The way the ropes were cutting into his wrists... the way he was thrashing under her... wanting, needing... begging, it seemed to intensify her desires to uncontrollable levels. Was she like that other Buffy... enjoying his torture, enjoying her own? Even if Whistler had said magic and curses didn't apply in this place, she couldn't risk it. But that didn't mean every cell in her body wasn’t screaming for it... or that she didn't need it as much as he did. "Fuck. Angel... mean it," she ground down on him, half closing her eyes... wishing...

He rolled his hips up to try and meet her, pulling against the ropes binding his hands and feet. He moaned softly, looking up at her. He was responding to her every order, and he knew what she said was true. Buffy would follow him, she would save him, if she could. That was all she wanted to hear, not that she really was Buffy. Her warm, slick entrance slid past him again, and he shivered from it. "Buffy would follow me anywhere," he repeated on a gasp. And then, holding her look, he asked, "Please?" He shifted himself under her. He wanted to feel her around him so badly, and he'd long ago grown used to begging. "Please?"


She wanted to... Oh God how she wanted to. Lowering slightly, she gave him some friction, biting her lip and throwing her head back as she fought her needs. Today... it felt like a breakthrough, and she needed to use it... if only she could think... if only she weren't in the grips of lust and wanting only to ride him the way the demon had. "Angel..." she croaked, "Angel is not a coward. He'd come home. He'd come home to apologize to his Buffy. He wouldn't hide here."

"I love her," he said at that. His eyes held hers, but they were still shrouded in sorrow, unable to believe. "It's been so long," he said miserably. "So many lies." He shook his head, his voice hitching in his throat. "I'm sorry," he told her. Even if she wasn't Buffy, even if she was the closest he'd ever get, he needed to say it. Even if she was a demon and thought he was breaking for her. "For what I've done."

"Not good enough," she said more harshly than she meant. It wasn't what he said, it was just hard... fighting her body. She sat down on him, moved her hand and started removing the ring around his cock. "You have to go home... you have to apologize to her at home. It's too easy here." Easy! Leaning over him against, she kissed him on the mouth, sliding her tongue inside and out, the way she wanted... needed him to be moving in and out of her. Unconsciously, she was rocking against him... slowly... gently... half fucking him, trying to tell herself this was enough... that she'd use her hands or mouth on him, and then make herself walk away... but two more minutes wouldn't hurt.

He kissed her back, meeting her tongue with a stroke of his own for each, tasting her. She tasted just like he remembered, and he wondered how they could do that. Even the other one didn't taste quite right, but this one...And then his cock was released, and a painful surge struggled against him, maddening, driving him close already, and his body trembled with need.

He moaned against her mouth, raising his head to meet her and kiss her back. When she paused for air he spoke, more words spilling out of him than ever before in this place. "I want to," he said, honestly. "I want to go back. I can't believe that I can. If I believe that, if they take that again...I barely survived the first time I lost it." He shook his head. "It'll break me. Can't you see what you're asking? I want you, I want to please you. But I can't believe that." Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice spoke quietly. Not yet. "Just...ride me, let me see you, like I saw her that night. Please, I never asked you for anything before. I need that. I need her. You can do whatever you want to me afterwards, I just need that."

Those words... fuck... Power and lust swept through her... made her body rage and burn for him, for Angel. "And damn the consequences?" she asked, but it was rhetorical. Already, she was pushing down on him, crying out as she took his engorged cock inside her to the hilt. Her walls pulsed around him... she was motionless for a moment as she stared at him... and then a damn burst. Almost crazy with want, she moved wildly over him, forgetting he was injured, forgetting the curse... forgetting everything but the burning need to ease the ache that had built up during each visit, each time that she'd touched him or brought him release... each time she'd watched another take from him what was her right... by God, it was their turn. Hers, and his. Nothing could stop them now, nothing could make her leave him like this, not when his powerful legs strained under her so, not when he was making those sounds... for her... only for her, not when she needed him more than she'd needed anything else in her life.

His entire body felt as if it were on fire as she slid over him. As she stroked his body with her own, he started rising to meet her, rocking his hips up against her, stroking her as powerfully as he could, though bound tightly. His wounds were already starting to heal, and he ignored the pain in them. "Fuck, Buffy," he muttered, and groaned as she rocked against him. "Yes, god, yes." This was better than it ever had been before, with the other demon. It felt sweet, it felt nice, even with the pain, even with the way she dominated him and controlled his body. And he had to admit a certain part of him didn't mind that so much either. A gasp escaped his throat and he held onto Buffy's gaze, watching her every expression, wanting to see her exactly the way he'd seen her their one and only night together.

It was a bad idea the first time, it might be a worse idea the second time around. But he felt so good inside her, under her. With every slide of her body, she got hotter, needed more of him. "Wish you could touch me," she said, moving her hand over her breast... heavy with need. "I wish..." Wishes were for fools. She should take what she could get... and she did, suddenly riding him at a relentless pace, forcing him to keep up, forcing him to to give her everything he had. "Yes... yes... more..." she threw her head back, but never looked away from the intensity of the heat in his eyes.

She asked him for more, and he tried to meet her every need. Bucking his hips, arching his back as much as he could with his body stretched and bound, Angel powerfully moved under her. His cock stroked inside her, and with every thrust up to meet her, he tried to roll his hips, to slide himself with new angles, trying to listen to the small gasps and moans that she made, and drove him even wilder. "Lean down," he gasped to her. "Taste you," he explained, shifting his head up, holding her eyes. The arousal in her eyes as she looked at him, as she rode him, sent a surge through his body. "You're so beautiful," he said, letting himself fall into the illusion that she was truly Buffy, if only for this moment.

The hunger in his eyes overwhelmed her. Moving down over him, she placed her hands on his shoulders and used him for leverage, pushing herself back and forth, meeting him thrust for thrust, knowing how much this had to be taking out of him the way he was tied. "Taste me then," she answered huskily, lowering her mouth over his. It was hard to tell whether it was she who was claiming possession of him, or he claiming possession of her. All she knew was it felt right, their tongues dueling, their bodies writhing out of control... just the two of them. Heat spiraled low in her stomach, increasing in intensity until she was blinded with need. Deliberately growing more rough, she silently demanded he get her there... he give her the release that had been denied to her as surely as that demon had denied him his release.

He felt her speeding up, riding him harder, and knew what she wanted. He wanted to give it to her so much, in a way he never had before when he was here. He felt his own body getting closer. He pulled on his ropes, wanting to clutch her to him, to hold her in his arms. He settled for fucking her as hard as he could from his awkward position on the floor, his cuts long-forgotten with the pleasure she was awakening. He moaned and whimpered against her lips, his tongue roughly sliding against hers, thrusting and bucking. He felt a tingle wash over his entire body, and he gasped loudly. He pulled at his ropes as he shivered and came, his orgasm harder than it had been since arriving here, when she'd give him release with her mouth or hands. This was so much better, so much closer, and he let himself believe in this Buffy, if only for that instant, as his back arched to meet her, give her all the pleasure he could.

Each time he drove into her, she sobbed his name... begged him to help her. And then she found herself convulsing around his thick length... shattering with each wave of pleasure that rocked her to her core. It was beautiful, and raw... it made her forget where they were, and who they were... it burned away all doubts and left sheer determination in its wake.

Once he came, Buffy lay limp on top of him for a few moments, memorizing the feel of his body now that she wasn't in the grips of lust. She would have stayed there forever. He wasn't protesting, and she had no desire to move... and yet a voice in the back of her head told her it was time to go. Lifting her head, she told him. "The next time we do this, it's at home." It was both a promise, and a threat.

He looked at her sadly for a long moment, meeting her eyes with his own. "Even if that were true," he replied. "That'd be a bad idea." He leaned forward and kissed her lips sweetly and closed his eyes, as if she were Buffy. And then he pulled away, brows furrowed, troubled by what he felt for her. "Thank you for this," he whispered. "You better put the ring back on me when you leave. The other one will get mad."

Suddenly, it felt like something cut her from the inside. What had she expected? Sleep with him... fuck him, and he'll know you? Still the High School girl Summers. Blinking away her tears, she stood and dropped the ring next to his body, watched it clink and roll away. "Tell that other one she wasn't hot enough to keep you hard... even with that."

How was it possible to feel full of hope and determination one instant, and in the next, be swamped by despair and hurt? Turning on her heels, she walked away.

Angel watched as she disappeared to wherever it was this one went, and felt immediately ashamed. He wanted her. Wanted to believe her. Wanted to be wherever she went. He closed his eyes and glanced down at the ring laying on the stone floor. The other one would undoubtedly take the hide from him, but he had to admit he was kind of looking forward to telling her exactly what this one had told him to. He laid his head back to rest against the stone floor and closed his eyes, thinking of her.


* * *


Two weeks, three days, eight hours since the day they'd made love, and still he refused to want to go home. Buffy didn't know how, or exactly when, but she was going to break him where that other demon hadn't been able to bend him to her will.

She could tell her outfit had gotten his attention from the moment she'd walked in and turned around to give him a 360 degree view of her black lace-up teddy that barely covered her ass. He had a thing for heels... she'd figured that out and was wearing seven inch heels that had her walking on her toes. The way he looked at her. The way he'd asked if they could 'do it again,' had been worth it.

Course he'd still said 'no' when she asked him if he wanted to go home. "Wrong answer." She barely kissed the tip of his cock, before moving behind him. Pressing her body against his, she moved her mouth along the backs of his arms, his neck, and his shoulders... following the lines of his powerful muscles, now rippling underneath her lips. She nipped, and licked him better, and then kneeled. Her breath fanned over the back of his leg as she gave him wet open mouthed kisses all the way up to his buttocks. "You want to go home?" Her voice held a warning.

It was a loaded question to him, he knew that much. He knew he wanted to go home as much as he knew he wouldn't be able to. He'd learned in this place that a little hope was a fragile thing, and they'd build it up just as quickly as possible so they could snap it down again, piece by agonizing piece. His arms were spread and raised over his head again, and the feel of her lips along his muscles and against his cool skin was like a soft, sweet burn that made him jump with each touch of her lips, with every soft bite. And just the sight of her in the teddy, walking gracefully on higher heels than he'd never even seen before had his cock already stiffening even before she touched him. The second she appeared, with a wicked little smile on her face, her eyes shining, moving on those shoes with the grace of a trained fighter, he was already aroused. The second she closed on him, and started touching him, he felt a rush through his body.

He couldn't see her, but he could feel her lips still on him, kissing him everywhere, it seemed like. By the time she asked the question again, he was completely hard and aching for her. He didn't know how to explain it to her, about home, so he settled for the simplest answer. "No," he said. "I can't. No."

Putting her arms around his legs, she gripped the fronts of his thighs for support, and moved between his legs, kissing his inner thighs... moving up and down on either side. She made sure one of her legs was extended, visible to him... he would see her backwards and forwards movements, maybe recognize the authority symbolized by her sharply heeled boots. "You want me to take you in my mouth?" she flicked her tongue out and stroked his balls... felt them tighten and stretch his skin to the maximum. "Do you want to go home?"

"Yes," he said breathlessly as he felt her tongue slide along his sac, warm and wet, his sensitive nerves alive with the sensation. He felt his body go taut with the pleasure of it, his cock twitched and his nipples tightened. It felt like he'd found heaven when the opposite was true. He swallowed then, closed his eyes, felt his entire being aware of her every shift and movement. He spoke haltingly, his voice thick with desire and emotion, "I mean...what you're doing. I can't believe in home anymore."

Dammit. So close... She swirled her tongue around, widened her mouth and took his sac inside. She could tell from the way he was straining, and from the way he reacted as she raked her fingernails up and down his abs, threatening to touch his cock but never getting there, that he was hurting. He wasn't the only one suffering either. She remembered that time... how he'd felt inside her, so deep, so much a part of her she couldn't believe they'd ever be apart again. When she pulled her mouth of him and spoke, her voice was breathy. "Don't you want me to touch you there? Don't you want me to take you inside my mouth... inside me?"

"Yes," he said quickly. She'd stood up away from him, and already he shivered as his wet skin began to dry in the air. She stood in front of him in that teddy, on those high heeled boots, pure sex. His cock was still achingly hard, eager for her. "Yes, I want to be inside you," he said, his voice almost pleading. "I want to touch you and taste you and fuck you as hard as I can while you stand on those heels! What do you want from me?"

Crossing her arms right under her breasts, she raised her brow at his frankness. Oh she knew what he wanted all right, but the fact he said it so graphically could only mean he was desperate. "I could turn around... bend over," she watched the expressions chase over his face. "You could fuck me as hard as you wanted. Touch me, taste me... fuck me. At home."

He sagged in his chains again, and closed his eyes. He opened them to look her over again, and the look in her eyes, on her face. It was exactly the same expression Buffy got on her face when she was set on getting her way. "You..." He swallowed and looked down. His eyes narrowed, and then turned back up to Buffy. "She's coming," he told her. "You should go. Now. Now, before she sees you here!"

"Come with me, come home?" she said in a desperate whisper. The silence was deafening... defeating. "This doesn't have to happen. You could be gone from--" Uh oh, the sound of heels striking the floor drew closer. Buffy quickly moved away and hid behind one of the dilapidated pillars. All it would take was one word... home. Why couldn't he trust her? Course the reason was sauntering past her, lips twisted in a crooked smile.

"Well, well, well..." the demon smirked, crossing one leg in front of the other as she walked towards him.

Well now that's a sucky imitation. He had to know that. Buffy peered around the pillar and saw how close that other one stood to his cock. This time it was her own lips that twisted into a bitter smile as she stared at Angel. Maybe the imitation wasn't as far off as she'd thought.

"... is this all for me?" The demon purred, taking him in her hand and stroking him. "Answer me."

Angel closed his eyes. He could say a simple word, to placate her. He could tell her yes, it was all for his mistress. She'd been brutal when she found him without the ring, and after what he'd said. But he was tired of lying, and being here and letting a perversion of his love tear him down again and again. "Not particularly," he replied and opened his eyes. "Had other things on my mind." He fairly smirked at her, and his eyes darted towards Buffy's hiding place for just an instant, meeting her gaze before turning it back to the demon.

The demon took a step back, her eyes flashing as she moved her hand away from her body and unfurled her whip. "Let's see what will be left of your mind, when I'm through with you."

Buffy's heart leaped to her throat. She couldn't watch this... even if it sent a thrill through her to know that he'd resisted that one, she couldn't watch him bloodied again. The next time he looked towards her, she shook her head and knew he saw the tears in her eyes. By the time the first lash landed, she was gone.

Angel felt the first stinging blow as it cut into him, and he clenched his fists. He lowered his head and closed his eyes as the demon got to work again, lashing him hard. She'd be at it for a long time after what he'd said, but even as he began to sweat from the pain, a smile crossed his lips, and he said a small word, quiet, barely a whisper. "Home." He'd seen the tears in her eyes, the look that couldn't be faked, not by even the most skilled demon in the world. He'd seen the tears. He smiled a little wider.

(A/N: Are there any Bangel lovers out there still? Give us a shout!)