Their Little Secret

For Guinny_Hamilton, who wanted Submissive!Marcus


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He is always in control, no matter what he does – an injudicious movement, and he could seriously injure or even kill one of the lesser beings that worked for the Senior Partners. They allow him a fair amount of leeway, but make it plain to him that he is not allowed to decimate an entire floor of research assistants simply because he feels like it. Not that he would actually even think of committing such a social faux-pas, but it keeps him reined in and there is a part of him that intensely resents the restriction because it implies that his self-control is not, in fact, absolute. Even when amusing himself with one of the disposable humans that he is allowed to play with, the control is always there.

Only one person ever sees Marcus Hamilton’s control desert him, if only for the simple fact that he is the one who hands it over to her for hours at a time. They both benefit from their arrangement and, even though pains must be taken on both their ends to ensure that their meetings remain secret, neither have any regrets about their association.

_ _ _ _

He walks to the door slowly, savoring the anticipation that tightens his muscles and sets an ache between his legs. Resting his hand upon it almost too lightly to make a sound, he waits for her to hear it and humbly asks permission to enter as soon as the door opens and she is there. She tucks a strand of long hair behind her ear and looks up at him thoughtfully. “One of these days, I won’t let you in,” she reminds him. But tonight, she allows him to enter.

Marcus moves past her, eyes on the floor as he has been taught, and begins the ritual of undressing while she crosses the room and sits down in a chair to watch. With every piece of fabric that is folded and set aside, he hands himself over to her until he is fully nude and she is the one with all the power, and all the control. Marcus sinks down onto his haunches at a slight gesture from her, sitting lightly on his heels and placing his palms flat on the floor to either side of his body, bowing his head. He can feel her eyes on him like a physical touch, and he becomes instantly hard.

“Come here to me, Marcus,” she says, her voice ringing out and sounding nearly displeased at his arousal. He crosses to her on his hands and knees, knowing better than to stand and walk to her. As he reaches her, he stops at the closest distance to her that he is allowed without special permission, assuming his original position. She reaches to lay a small hand between his shoulder blades, petting his skin as if he were a prized animal, before she stands to circle around him and her fingers stroke his hair with deceptive tenderness before she grips a handful and pulls his head back with a force that would snap the neck of a human man. The sharp pain in his scalp spreads with a tingling crawl as his owner inspects him, seemingly unaware of the effect the pain is having upon his body.

She strokes a finger over his throat, easily keeping him bent in his uncomfortable position with her other hand fisted in his hair – for the young woman to whom he submits twice a month is one among many, now, and thus has time for him. She has sworn to fight the very evil that flows though his veins even if it weren’t precisely her choice to do so, but a Slayer is never asked her opinion on the eternal battle between the forces of good and evil…she is simply chosen. And this particular Slayer has chosen him. “I don’t ever want to see bite marks on this neck,” she warns him in a low whisper as he strives to keep his eyes averted from hers. “This neck belongs to me.” The hand not gripping his hair runs down over his chest lightly and he swells even further as she gets closer to the place he longs for her to touch, even though he knows she will never grant him that favor so soon after they’ve begun.

“Yes, miss,” he answers obediently, striving not to thrust forward against her fingers when she places them just out of reach – she sees his hips quivering with the strain as he tries to control himself, and laughs.

She releases him to move from the room suddenly and is back almost instantly with… something; he can’t see what she was carrying until he feels her buckling something heavy around his neck. A collar, he realizes as she clips a long leash to it, clicking her tongue and jiggling the lead as if he were a dog. When he is not fast enough to obey, she yanks on it hard enough to pull him down onto the carpet. “I should take you outside and show you off,” she says amusedly. “Right down the street. If anyone asks me what breed you are, I’ll just say that I brought you from Europe – they wouldn’t know any better. Heel,” she orders, preparing to pull upon the leash once more. This time he is ready, and hurries to take his place behind the heel of her right boot while she walks him around the luxurious hotel suite that has been rented for their games. She strides faster and faster, moving steadily closer to the wall so that he has to work to keep up and out of her way as she makes sudden turns and meaningless circles. Finally he has no more room to maneuver because of his size, and one of his shoulders hits a nearby table….the vase of flowers that was atop it crashes to the floor. His Slayer jerks the leash viciously, angrily, but her voice simply sounds amused. “Now look what you’ve done.”

Marcus bows his head in apology. “Forgive me, miss. I did not mean…” the leash jerks and he falls silent instantly as she pulls him to the flowers and forces him to pick up each stem with his teeth. A familiar sound makes him pause slightly, but he quickly picks up where he left off when she gives the riding crop in her hand a warning snap. He is nearly done with the difficult task of rearranging the flowers without the use of his hands and closes his teeth about the rim of the heavy glass vase when she brings the crop down against the backs of his thighs without warning, the shock of unexpected pain making him drop the vase. The flowers fall out once more, the leash jerks again, and he bends to his task. This time she waits to strike him until he is raising himself up on his knees to replace the vase. The next time, when he is just opening his mouth to grasp it. It goes on and on, with him never knowing when as well as where she will strike him, until she simply begins to swing the crop intermittently and he is forced to begin anew countless times with blows raining down upon his back, sides, thighs, and buttocks. When he finally manages to complete the task she has set him despite the stinging pain that she doles out, she drops the weapon to trail it across the welts that she has raised along his flanks before his Slayer lifts it again to snap it at the vase, knocking it from the table and sending it to shatter against the wall.

He waits for her to pull on the leash and make him pick up the shards of leaded glass, but instead she gently leads him into the suite’s large bedroom and directs him up onto the low, wide, glass-topped table that sits to one side of the spacious bed. Marcus isn’t sure that the table will hold his weight, but he understands when he sees that narrow bands of iron hold the thin sheet of glass together. Any sort of involuntary movement and it will break… she unclips the leash from his collar and he obediently settles his feet on the sides of the table so that his knees are spread wide, but he is somewhat startled when she guides his hands behind his back and wraps the leash around his wrists to bind them together. “Good boy,” she murmurs when he automatically lifts himself on the balls of his feet to maintain balance as she pushes his back slightly into the position she wants. “And look at this,” she continues with a laugh, running her short nails over the welts on his lower back and down further. Marcus stifles a gasp as her hand slides between his legs, cupping his balls before kneading roughly and moving up to stroke his shaft. “You’ve stayed hard the entire time.”

She circles back around to face him and settles in the center of the table, her tiny body easily supported by the glass, and he sighs inwardly. With her on the table with him, this means that if he makes one mistake and loses his balance she will fall to the floor when the glass breaks. She won’t like that, and he might be sent away….but he never knows what will make her end the game because she has dismissed him for behaving perfectly, and kept him when he has failed to obey. “Eyes front,” she murmurs, catching him trying to see what she is planning. A cool stirring of the air close to his knees makes him realize that she has taken the sheer scarf from around her neck, and seconds later the fabric is brushed over tip of his swollen cock which is steadily leaking moisture as a result of his overpowering need. He begin to shake when she wraps the gauzy material around his length and moves it up and down over him, the light touches a torment. The scarf slides over his flesh for what seems like hours, and the entire table is rattling with the force of the trembling that has settled into his legs – a daring glance down at her shows the beautiful Slayer intent upon his suffering, her eyes dilated and dark with desire. She looks up and catches him watching her, though he tries to look away as quickly as he can. “I don’t think I gave you permission to look at me….or did I?”

Marcus shakes his head and swallows hard. “No, miss.”

His entire body jerks uncontrollably as she leans in and licks the pre-cum forming at the tip of his cock. “I didn’t think so.” Her hand closes around him and begins to stroke slowly, then increasingly faster until he is gasping loudly and fighting back the urge to come as her tongue swipes over his glans to lick up the clear drops of fluid that she teases from him.

“Miss, please! ” Any more stimulation and he will lose what little control he has.

“Not yet,” she orders lightly, still sliding her hand over him. Somehow he manages not to embarrass himself and she finally releases him, leaving the table after looping the scarf around his shaft. “I’ll be back later…make sure that doesn’t fall off.” With that she leaves the room and he hears her walk into the lavatory to run a bath while he is left perched on the table unable to move. Marcus feels the nearly overpowering need to stand and stretch his legs, which are beginning to cramp, but knows that her hearing is just as good as his and she will know if he attempts to change position. She splashes about in the bathtub cheerfully, singing something at the top of her lungs while he tries to ease the strain in his legs and drops his chin upon his chest, falling into a trance as he waits for her attention to return to him. The burning in his muscles and the welts she’s laid across his skin make him pleasurably sleepy, and he wonders if she will flog him again before he’s sent away.

Finally she returns, wearing only a bathrobe that reveals a generous portion of her chest and he is unable to tear his eyes away as she approaches to slip the scarf from him and leaps lightly onto the table. The robe falls away and he licks his lips unconsciously, the ever-present desire for her making his blood rush and his phallus twitch. “Miss, may I…?”

She smiles, pleased with him. “You may.” He lowers his knees carefully to the edges of the table and bends slowly, striving to maintain his balance since she has made no offer to untie his hands. Her legs part for him as he leans forward, the smell of her nearly driving him wild. Marcus places sucking kisses on the insides of her thighs, steadily working his way up to her core where he sighs in contentment as he slides his tongue between her nether lips. Her gasps tell him all he needs to know, and he loses himself in the exquisite taste and smell of his Slayer, his cock pulsing painfully as he eagerly licks and sucks on the sensitive flesh between her legs. She grips his hair as he pleasures her with his mouth, and climaxes with a keening wail that assures him that he will not leave unsatisfied. When she comes down from her high, he is still licking slowly to help her prolong the feeling he has given her. “That’s enough, Marcus,” she orders gently, stroking the side of his face. He places a kiss between her legs and raises himself back up to the balls of his feet, settling back into his original position.

Favoring him with a kiss, she asks him what he would like as his reward and laughs when his eyes drift towards the bed, where she has placed a deerskin flogger with strands not unlike a cat o’ nine tails. “That’s what I thought.” Marcus shivers in anticipation as she picks it up and moves towards him, snapping it lightly against the side of his leg. “I suppose it’s a good thing that you’re not human, since you enjoy this so much,” she comments before bringing against the inside of his thigh. She strikes him almost lazily on his legs, against his thighs, buttocks, back, chest… she even hits the bottom of one foot, making him nearly lose his balance and crash through the glass. Every blow makes pleasure radiate through his body and he waits for her to move to his – he jerks as the leather strands suddenly connect with the swollen flesh between his legs, and a low moan is forced from deep within his chest.

She strikes him again in the same area and he begins to tremble anew. “Please, miss…!”

“Please miss, what?”

A stinging slap against his cock makes him groan out his next words. “Please, miss…more.” She laughs again but takes pity on him and steadily snaps the strands over his shaft while he can’t help but rock his hips into the blows, arching his back. The sound of his harsh pants and the sharp smack of the flogger connecting with his skin fill the room until he is biting back his cries and she drops the flogger to dip her hand in the glass of ice water she has set beside him upon her return to the room. Standing to one side, she wraps her fingers around his cock and begins to rub; the sensation of her cold and wet skin against his sore and heated flesh throws his head back in ecstasy. She grips his hair once more to keep him steady, and gives him permission – the room goes out of focus as she strokes Marcus to orgasm and he comes so hard he nearly passes out, coating the glass with ejaculate as she beats him off. He struggles to thank her, but his mouth seems unable to obey the commands his brain sends as she slices through his bonds and tells him that he is finally allowed down from the table.

Marcus stumbles to his feet, still unsteady and dizzy from the force of his climax, and she guides him to the bed gently. “I think you liked that,” she says in amusement.

He is finally able to speak, and he rolls his head over to look up into her green eyes. “Thank you, miss.”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “I swear, all you not-quite-humans are the kinkiest bastards I’ve ever met. Do any of you ever just have the yearning for the plain old missionary position?” He closes his eyes as she strokes her fingers through his hair, laying still while she lowers her mouth to his for a kiss; it is enough of a pleasurable surprise that he grows hard once more. “Keep your eyes closed,” she whispers as she mounts him, small hands resting upon his chest as she moves up and down on his cock – she takes her pleasure of him slowly while he gradually lets his eyes open to look up at her. She is staring back at him, and gasps when he reaches up to hold her hips in place as he pushes up into her. When completion is reached, neither makes a noise until she disengages his arms from around her with a regretful sigh. “I’ve got to go, and so do you.”

“Yes, miss,” he says obediently and follows her into the lavatory to help her bathe as well as to clean himself off. The pain has settled to a pleasurable throbbing ache by the time he dries off and goes to retrieve his clothing, and they part ways after he brings her one of the flowers that lay on the floor.


_ _ _ _ _


Marcus strides through the lobby of Wolfram & Hart, ignoring Harmony’s flirtatious comment as he stops beside the reception desk to retrieve the folder he needs for the meeting he is about to attend. He smiles pleasantly at Angel and the others as he takes his seat, and introduces himself politely to the three young women who have traveled all the way from Sunnydale to speak with Angel. One of them already knows who he is, and she looks at him with a glimmer of amusement as she leans across the table to shake his proffered hand. Angel sounds distinctly annoyed at having to conduct the meeting in a formal manner now that Marcus is attending, and introduces the women in turn. “Marcus, this is Willow…Faith…and…”

Marcus interrupts. “Buffy Summers. Yes, I know.” He smiles. “You’re somewhat of a legend, miss.”

~*~END~*~

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