|Possession by icemink|
|Chapter #3 - Home|
|Chapter 3: Home|
As they left the slave market, Spike was given a set of unbleached cotton pants and a shirt to put on. He was hurried along, and wasn't even given a chance to do anything about the erection that was being maintained by the cock ring. On the other hand, he didn't want Kira volunteering to help with that problem, so he kept quiet about it and simply kept his hands over his groin as he followed his new owner out of the slave market.
Spike was surprised when, instead of heading away from the Center and back to the regular world, the girl led him deeper into the Center.
She didn't speak and she never looked back to see if Spike was following her.
The more he thought about his situation, the more nervous he became. He was operating totally in the dark. He had no idea why this girl had bought him or what she would do with him. All he knew was that every sense told him she was just a regular human girl, and every instinct told him she was more than she seemed.
Nerves got the better of Spike, and without thinking he blurted out, "Good thing the sun's down."
She stopped, and slowly turned towards him. "There is no sun. It's always dusk here."
Then she started to walk again.
Spike felt like kicking himself. Not only had it been a silly thing to say in the first place, he'd just revealed how little he knew about his present surroundings. She, on the other hand, seemed right at home.
Soon they had left the markets behind, and strange houses rose up on either side of them. No two were quite alike, each having been built by a different species of demon. They only shared one thing in common. They were all over-crowded.
The area was quite obviously a slum, and Spike found himself a bit nervous walking through such an area with a human girl. He might as well have been in the middle of a pack of wolves with a nice bit of mutton tied around his neck. Yet to Spike's surprise, no one bothered them.
Finally they stopped in front of a run down looking building. Its walls were mud. It was made from the same sand that covered every inch of the Center. It was square, bulky, and on the second floor, he could see where the roof had partially collapsed.
The only part of it that didn't look old and run down was the front door. It was made from brass and still shiny. It looked more like it should be the door of a bank vault than a house. All it needed was one of those large wheels on the front to complete the look. But it had a much more ordinary handle, and the girl simply pulled it open.
What's the point of a door like that if you don't even lock it? Spike wondered.
As soon as he stepped inside he had his answer. There was nothing inside worth stealing. The room had nothing in it, but a few hooks on the wall by the door, a crude wooden table and chair, a lamp, a mini fridge and a hot plate. The lamp, the mini fridge, and the hot plate were all plugged into a power strip that was connected to an orange extension cord that came in through a hole in one of the outside walls.
A staircase led upstairs, and there was an open archway that led into a big–but completely empty–room. There were two other doors in the room. One of them was a wooden door, that barely hung on its hinges. The other one matched the front door of the house, except that this one had a series of four bolts on it.
The girl turned on the lamp, then shut the front door. As she did so Spike saw that on the inside it also had a series of dead bolts, which she locked into place one by one.
For the hundredth time Spike found himself wondering who this odd girl was. She had money to spend on a slave but she lived in a run down shack where the front door was worth a dozen times more then everything else inside.
The whole house smelled dusty, and although her scent was here, it was new. She hadn't lived here long.
Maybe her furniture hasn't been delivered yet, he thought.
Once she had double checked the locks on the front door she pulled down the hood of her robe and shook out her long blond hair. Then she took off the robe and hung it on one of the hooks by the door.
She was hardly naked, however. In fact Spike couldn't see one more bit of flesh than he had a moment before. The brown leather gloves she had been wearing turned out to be part of any entire outfit. From head to toe she was wearing soft brown leather.
It wasn't, however, some sort of cat suit or dominatrix outfit. Although it mostly fit her figure, it was not flattering. Rather than accentuate her breasts, it seemed to flatten them out and her boots didn't even have a heel. It was–Spike realized–a kind of armor she was wearing.
He supposed it wasn't a bad idea for a young girl in a demon world, but he wondered how much good it would really do her.
The she turned her green eyes on him, and acknowledged his presence for the first time. "Do you know who I am?"
He knew what this was. A test. He was supposed to say something like, 'Yes, you are my mistress.' He had no doubt if he said anything else he was going to get another sample of pain from the bracelet, but Spike had never been one to do things the easy way.
"Goldilocks?" he said instead.
She looked at him surprised, and something that might almost have been a smile tugged at her lips. But it was quickly gone.
"Attack me," she ordered instead.
Spike was both shocked and confused by this non-sequitur. It was a trick. He knew that. She must really be some sort of witch, and if he got to near her an electro shield would appear and shock him. Or something like that.
So he hesitated.
She didn't. And suddenly pain was coursing through his body as she played with a jewel on her bracelet. He gritted his teeth and leapt at her, the pain making him forget his reasons for not attacking her.
As soon as he moved in on her the pain vanished, but so had she. Somehow she had ended up behind him, and she was twisting his right arm behind his back.
He managed to wrest the arm free and swung around hoping to deliver a left hook to her face. But she caught his fist with her hand. He was so startled that she had the strength to stop the force of his punch, that he was caught completely by surprise when her other fist crashed into his nose.
Reflexively his hands reached up to cup his broken nose. She used that moment to sweep his legs out from under him. He found himself grateful that her hovel only had a dirt floor as he landed on his back and his head smacked against the ground.
The next instant she was on top of him, pinning his arms to the ground with her legs.
He had to blink several times to clear his eyes enough to see her. Her long golden hair hung down just above her face, and now she was actually smiling.
Cor, she's beautiful Spike thought in spite of himself. A moment later he blamed it on the combined influence of a mild concussion, the cock ring, and the fact that her legs were open right in front of his face filling his nostrils with the smell of her arousal.
He was starting to think maybe she was a dominatrix after all, when it suddenly clicked into place.
"Slayer," he mumbled.
She nodded and got up off of him. "See I knew you must have heard of me."
He got to his feet as quickly as he could considering he wasn't yet fully recovered from the beating he'd received earlier.
"Yeah, well, I never heard of a Slayer who had to buy vampires in order to dust them."
She just looked at him a little strangely. But she didn't say anything.
"And don't think I'm going to cower and be all scared just because you're the Slayer," he continued. "I've faced slayers before and ki- " Spike stopped himself. He was after all this slayer's slave, however twisted that may be. It was probably not a good idea to let her know that he'd killed two of her predecessors. "Made it out all right," he finished.
"You've seen other slayers?" she asked, obviously curious.
"Yeah a couple, why?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.
For a moment he thought she was going to tell him. But then she suddenly became serious. She opened the other brass door and gestured for him to go inside.
Warily he moved towards the door way. It was nothing more than a simple cell, with a wooden cot in it and nothing else. Obviously it was meant to be his room.
When he didn't go in right away, she gave him a bit of a push. Once he was inside, she began to close the door.
"Hey!" he protested. "Don't suppose I can get some blood?" he asked.
She stopped and looked at him. "Sorry, you'll have to wait till morning. I wasn't expecting a vampire. I was honestly hoping for a Fyarl demon."
Then she shut the door in his face, leaving him in alone in the darkness.
He could hear the bolts being drawn on the other side, and he had no doubt that he was firmly locked away for the night.
He didn't really mind the darkness in and of itself, except that with nothing to do, his imagination began to get the better of him as he tried to figure out what sort of situation he'd ended up in. Pretty as the slayer was, he desperately hoped that he was here for something other than sex, because he didn't think he could deal with a girl whose idea of a good time was a Fyarl demon.
Buffy's fingers trembled with excitement as she locked the vampire in his cell.
He knows about slayers, she thought. He was hiding something, maybe exaggerating, but he definitely knew something. All she had to do now was find a way to get it out of him without letting on to her own ignorance.
For a moment she felt a little guilty about not being able to feed him, but then she was a lot nicer to him than Tain had been to her the day her bought her.
She was grateful when they stopped. After the auction her hands had been bound in front of her and she'd been tied to the back of a carriage.
She'd always associated horse drawn carriages with romance. She'd never expected to be chained to the back of one and have to run to keep up with it or risk being dragged along the sandy road.
She didn't know how she kept up with the carriage, but she never lost her footing, although she was exhausted by the time the driver finally stopped.
As she was brought inside the small fortress that was her new home she spoke to the monster that had bought her for the first time.
Before she could say another word she was struck on the face with a ridding crop. She could feel blood trickle down her cheek.
"You will not speak unless spoken to," Tain told her.
The crop cracked against her other cheek, and she whimpered but kept silent.
Then Tain simply walked away while one of his guards dragged her into the basement. There were a dozen cells down their, each containing a different kind of monster.
The guard opened an empty cell and pulled her inside. Then he chained her to a ring in the back of the cell.
"I just wanted to know where the bathroom was," she whispered to herself.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could see that her cell had a cot and a small pot that she assumed was her bathroom. The only problem was that they both sat on the other side of the cell, and she was so tightly bound to the ring, that she couldn't get to them. All she could do was cross her legs and hope someone unchained her soon.
Once her new slave was safely locked away, Buffy went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. It had cost so much to have indoor plumbing installed that she had vowed never to have bad hygiene again. Not to mention she'd been spoiled during her brief sojourn to the world outside the Center.
Besides, being able to take care of her personal needs privately and whenever she wanted were reminders that she was free now.
Once she'd brushed her teeth and washed her face, she moved upstairs to her bedroom. She pulled the last of the thick brass doors shut and carefully locked the door, double checking that all four locks were secure.
As she got into bed, her mind wandered once again to her slave. She was a little worried about him. She'd hoped that he'd put up more of a fight.
She tried to reassure herself that she'd seen a fighter's spirit in his eyes. But now that she owned him and couldn't change her mind, all kinds of fears began to surface.
She took a deep breath and told herself, It's all or nothing Slayer. Live or die. That was the mantra she'd repeated to herself every time she stepped into the Circle. Those words had always calmed her, as if it was all out of her hands and all she could do was her best.
But if I fail this time, she thought, I'll wish I was dead.