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Chapter three

As Buffy followed Lukas down a narrow corridor resembling a dungeon, she could feel growing sense of dread spreading through her like wildfire. She stumbled on the uneven ground and almost fell down.


“Move it!“ Lukas sneered and yanked the chains.


Buffy faced downward and long unkempt hair hid her unseeing eyes from the outside world. It happened soon after they had started injecting her with those needles. At first she struggled and kept resisting, tried to fight, tried to escape. She soon learned that it was futile, and then she started losing her sight.


Three weeks after being kidnapped, she'd woken up and couldn't see. She'd never felt panic like that and went into shock, clawing at her face and screaming until her voice shut down on her. Nobody heard her, and even if they did, why would they care? It was them that did it anyway. What did they do to her?


She couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop the onslaught of tears falling down her cheeks and onto the dirty ground beneath her. It was the first time she allowed herself to shed a tear and she realized that once she started, she couldn't stop. Harsh sobs wracked through her body as she curled on the cold ground and hugged herself. She'd never felt so helpless, so miserable. So alone.


It was terrifying to not be able to see. What if there was a never ending hole of darkness just at the periphery of her feet? It didn't even matter she was shackled to the wall, once she got the visual into her head, it kept tormenting her with a vision of falling to her death but never hitting the ground. Death just outside of her reach, mocking her.


What if there was a swinging pendulum just waiting to hack off any part of her body, grinning at her with its sharpened teeth? She shrank back against the wall in a useless attempt at protection. She rested her head on her knees and encircled her legs with her arms.


It was worse than any monster she'd ever faced. Worse than finding out that the fate of the world rested on her shoulders and one wrong decision might end up costing her the lives of millions of people. You never knew what you had until you lost it. What if she never saw again? She should have memorized every colour, every nuance of movements, faces of people she had passed every day on the streets, when she could.


When a guard came to deliver her food and water and found her staring blankly into distance muttering to herself, “I'm not blind, I'm not blind, just wake up...”, a malicious grin stretched across his ugly scarred face.


“Looks like the serum they keep injecting in you has some side effects after all, eh?” He put the tray down onto the ground and took a step closer to Buffy, thriving off her misery.


Buffy, sensing someone coming closer, stiffened and whimpered in fear. This prompted a laugh from the guard as he came close enough to touch her. He ran one rough hand down her arm in a mockery of gentleness. Buffy shivered from disgust, which he noticed and roughly grabbed her forearms.


“Don't...please,” Buffy pleaded.


He laughed uproariously and hauled her to her feet.


“Don't what, princess? Touch you? What're you gonna do to me, eh?” He grabbed her around her throat and backhanded her. A trickle of blood made its way down Buffy's chin. She clawed at his hands in a fruitless attempt at freeing herself from the guard's painful grasp. The drug they kept giving her must had done something to her because she felt so weak that she wouldn't be able to lift a puppy right now.


Suddenly she was freed, but before she could acknowledge it had happened, she was turned around and slammed into the wall, his forearm digging between her shoulder blades to keep her in place. The guard grounded his obvious erection into her rear and Buffy felt a sudden urge to vomit.


“N-no!“ she renewed her struggling but it only served to make the guard laugh and heighten his arousal.


“Keep struggling, princess, that's how I like it. I knew you'd be a little harlot beneath that high and mighty attitude. You're just begging for it, aren't you?” His damp fetid breath at her ear made her stomach lurch violently and the sound of a zipper being lowered made cold sweat trickle down her naked back.


Buffy could feel his hard member rub against her lower back and she braced herself for the invasion. Just as the guard was about to penetrate her, the door flung open and Lukas came in.


“What the hell do you think you're doing?“ Lukas shouted in outrage as he strode forward, whipped out a stake from the waistband of his pants and staked the guard. Buffy slid down the wall and sobbed, but her relief was short-lived.


“Now, that would not do, to have your cherry busted for nothing. There are some clients waiting to pay an immeasurable amount for it. Not nearly enough for that particular part of you, but I'm sure we won't have to wait long to receive a satisfying offer, will we? Now get up and clean up, you look like a wreck! You have your first client to meet!“


She'd never be able to forget the night she was finally broken.


*****


Spike woke up alone, no Dru in sight. He sighed and kicked off the comforter, revealing his naked state. Glittering moonlight filtering through the upper narrow windows illuminated his skin with an inhuman beauty. Sculpted muscles rippled beneath his velvety skin as he stretched and stood up in all his glory. Everything about him was alluring, seducing with feline grace and oozing sexuality.


His eyes took on a darker shade in the shadows, emotions in them swimming restlessly, resembling the ocean during a storm. Dangerous. Fascinating. One minute full of warmth and love so stunning you'd never guess it was a dead man feeling it, the next minute turning into a cold maze of anger and blood-lust.


Shadows caressed, almost fearfully, the beauty of this creature. His cheekbones even more pronounced by the bluish hue and a collarbone so tempting, one couldn't stop but wish to caress it with a feather like kisses.


After he and Dru came into LA, they crashed at a random house they had found in the seedier part of the city. It was nothing fancy but then again, he'd never cared for luxury, not like Angelus and Darla had. It had a bed and a bathroom and that was good enough for him.


And if the owner was stupid and reckless enough to issue an invite, who was he to complain? No male could ever resist Dru's helpless damsel in distress act, it seemed. Clueless buggers. She was about as harmless as a lioness on a prowl. Speaking of, she actually was on a prowl right now, probably tearing out the throat of an unsuspecting victim.


His own plans for the night had included going into the nearest demon bar and pumping some poor sod for information about the current slayer's whereabouts, but he just didn't feel like getting into a brawl tonight. He was feeling particularly melancholic for some reason.


He crossed the wooden floor and entered the clean but outdated bathroom, glad that the shower worked at all. There were few things better in the world than a long shower to wash away all your worries straight down the drain.


Spike stepped into the shower and turned on the faucet. Warm water sprayed on him and he tilted his head towards the source. Rivulets of warmth caressed his body in an endless comforting strokes, its naughty hands running down his face, arched neck, down the perfect chest, tight nipples and six pack that begged to be licked, right down his semi-hard penis and strong thighs.


All kinds of thoughts kept running through Spike's mind, but somehow it changed from Dru to finding the slayer being the first and foremost. For some reason, he felt like it was the answer to everything. He would find her, and when he did...he could imagine it right now, the fight, the adrenaline making him feel like he could fly, the excitement of facing off a worthy opponent. The glory it would bring him to sink his fangs into her milky flesh, and the open and willing embrace of Drusilla that would surely ensue.


What would she look like? Tall and lean, all full of grace, or would she be petite and deceptively vulnerable? Dark hair, blond or red? God, he couldn't wait to meet her!


Spike inhaled a shaky unneeded breath, uncapped the bottle of shampoo and massaged a good amount of it into his scalp. He rinsed and then squeezed some soap onto his hand as he proceeded to soap up his whole body, his fingers caressing his slick skin, already oversensitive from his rising arousal. Since the stunt Drusilla pulled yesterday, he hadn’t found any release and as she wasn't here right now, he might as well wank off on his own.


Long fingers caressed his hard member and Spike moaned at how good it felt. As he reached the bell shaped tip, he squeezed gently and precum mingled with the running water. He kept the strokes slow and long, wanting it to last, wanting to drag it out.


He rumbled deep in his throat and his other hand reached down and caressed his balls. Images kept flashing through his mind, but it wasn't the naked body of his black goddess writhing beneath his skillful hands that he imagined.


It was the dance with a faceless figure that prompted his hand to move faster and faster, his other hand kneading his balls more urgently and reaching behind to slip one slick finger into his ass. He leaned his head on the cold tiles as he panted harshly in a nearing climax, but still unable to reach it. He added a second finger and kept thrusting in a shaky frenzied motion, massaging his prostate and only adding to his unbearable arousal.


Spike kept stroking his cock and caressed the tip with his thumb on every down stroke, he sped up the movement of his hand, pressed down on the sweet spot inside that shot sparks of electricity into his very core, and as a fleeting image of the faceless slayer sucking his cock deep into her mouth appeared in his mind, ropy strands of cum erupted from the tip of his penis and hit the tiled wall of the shower. He hadn't cum that hard in a long while.


Spike exhaled a long satisfied breath and slid down to the floor, water gently cleaning him as he purred like a big cat.


After Spike came down a little from his high, his eyes shot open in alarm and he swore, “Why the bloody hell would I cum from an image of a sodding slayer sucking me off?”


It was one thing to be obsessed with killing them and quite another to want to shag one. Where the hell did that come from? It must be the sexual frustration and his anger at Drusilla's attitude of ignoring his needs. Yeah, that made sense...He'd just go with that. Spike shoved down the sick, and in no way exciting, image somewhere very deep into the shelf in his mind labeled denial. But the disturbing feeling of curiosity wouldn't leave him.


The front door shut close and Drusilla's giggles and playful barks penetrated the fog of confusion clouding his mind. He shook himself off, turned off the water and went to greet the love of his life. Because that's what she was...wasn't she?


TBC