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Chapter 2 - Kill You Now, Kill You Later

The Watcher’s Journal of Sir Arthur Gosnard-Tisklin.

Oxford, August 24, 1900 - The Council is certainly sparing no expense. I received a sealed package today with the Watcher’s Journal of Edward Crossfort and Chen Ma’s fighting stake, which was located in a heathen Buddhist temple in Peking near her exsanguinated body. Chen Ma was last seen alive chasing a vampire whose description matches that of William the Bloody, who in spite of being rather young as vampires go, made somewhat of a name for himself in London.

I also received a report regarding my new Slayer. Lady Victorine Chesler is the youngest daughter of Montague Blandford, the Earl of M _________.

I protested most strenuously to the Council regarding their unsuitable choice to no avail. No good can come, in my opinion, of calling a frivolous, pampered and spoiled young lady such as Lady Chesler must surely be. A girl from the trade classes, or even an honest, poor girl from Spitalsfield or Aldgate, would present a far better prospect to assume the Slayer’s burden. But, it is my duty to train the Chosen One, as it will be her duty to fight, so I will put the best face on it and accept my task with good cheer.

I travel to the Earl’s county seat at Skelton on Ure tomorrow to introduce myself to my charge. The Council has arranged for me to present myself to the family as Lady Chesler’s riding instructor. I only hope the Council was equally persuasive regarding the use of his Lordship’s horses.

***

Jack finished mopping the floor and was drawing the shades, when a maroon Porsche squealed to a stop in front of the pub. A blonde girl got out and shoved her way through the door.

Her blonde hair was tightly drawn into corn rows, revealing the rat-pink skin of her skull. She wore a black leather vest, with nothing underneath, a see-through black chiffon skirt, black spandex biker shorts and black boots with silver grommets. Her eyes were ringed with black eyeliner, her lips coated in corpuscle-red lipstick and her ears crusted with silver earrings stolen from her victims. She preferred victims with nice jewelry. Kill a bird with a lot of stones.

“You got something for me, Jack?” Rosamund cocked her head, and scratched her armpit with her black-polished nails. She slid one fingernail over the upper curve of her bare tit and sliced a thin cut into her skin. A delicate line of blood beaded up on her skin. She wiped the blood with her finger and licked it off.

“You Rosamund?”

“No, I’m Oprah, asshole. Get me my shit.”

She rubbed her crotch and sniffed the air. Some nice vampire boy had been in here earlier tonight. A vampire boy she knew. Maybe she’d catch up with him later.

“It’s in the office.” He locked the front door and flicked out the neon signs in the windows. He headed for his office in the back of the bar and dug a small vial out of the loose papers and junk in his desk drawer. He held it up for her to see, but not touch.

“Two thousand bucks, Rosie.”

“Don’t call me Rosie. I don’t like it.”

“I beg your forgiveness, Princess Rosamund. Allow me to kiss your behind to make up for my impertinent behavior. Fucking vampire.”

Rosamund unsnapped her leather vest and peeled it back far enough for Jack to catch an eyeful of nipple. She dug out a thick bundle of bills, scattered the bills on his desk and snatched the vial out of his hand.

The vial was made of sapphire-blue rock crystal with a with a silver filigree cap. The cap was inscribed with a skull with vampire fangs. She held it up to the light, although there was nothing to see but grey ash.

“This doesn’t look like enough.”

“Doesn’t matter. Bob said even a small amount would work.”

“It better work. And, this better be her and not some cunt fledgling you staked. I wouldn’t want to have to come back to this dump.”

Jack scraped the money into his desk drawer and slammed it shut.

“Beat it,” he said. “From now on you can deal with my brother-in-law.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Jack. Let’s cut out the middle man, shall we?”

Rosamund snarled and whipped into her vamp face. She leaped across the desk, knocked Jack to the floor and ripped a bloody chunk out of his neck. She sprawled on top of his squirming body, humping his thigh as she drained his blood. She finished drinking at the same time she came. She hated humping shitheads like Jack, but killing got her so hot, she just had to get off.

She got up and kicked the body for good measure. She retrieved her cash and the crystal vial and left the bar.


***

“Ugh, Beer Bad,” Buffy moaned.

Don’t open your eyes.

She was awake. And, possibly sober.

Gritty eyes, furry tongue, pounding head, queasy stomach, sore puss and this thing – this tree trunk – jammed between her legs. Buried deep in her and forcing her legs so far apart, her hip muscles were cramping. A big, cool, heavy body crushed her into a mattress.

Oh, god. She’d gotten drunk last night – apocalyptically drunk – and she was suffering the extra bad afterness of a second bad night of badness. Worse, she’d picked up some guy. Ewww, some guy she didn’t know.

She explored Strange Guy’s body with her hands. Thin and muscles and cold. Way cold.

I’m a slut. I’m a slut with a sore puss from having sex all night with some Strange Guy with a cold, but disturbingly firm body and a tree trunk for a dick.

Don’t open your eyes.

Not PAR-ker. His thing didn’t begin to be that big or hard or otherwise possessed with salty goodness. At least, she hadn’t hopped back in the sack with that jerk again.

Her bed partner’s stiff cock made her horny. She didn’t want to be horny with some – some guy. Some strange guy she was afraid to open her eyes and look at.

She squirmed. Squirming made it worse. She wrapped her legs around Mr. Strange Guy’s back. Just to relieve her hip muscles, not at all to drive that huge thing deeper into her puss.

Strange Guy’s cock moved. It pulled out and thrust back into her with a slow stroke.

“Oh!”

That felt beyond good. She didn’t know making sex with other people could feel that good. She might faint if that thing moved in her again. It did. It stroked her again and again -- slow, tortuous, teasing strokes.

She might die if it stopped.

“Please!”

“Fancy another go, pet?”

Buffy froze. That voice! It could not be. It absolutely, positively, totally and no way in the Cleveland Hellmouth could not be!

Lots of guys had English accents. Lots. Most of those guys with English accents did not happen to be living, or unliving, in Sunnydale.

Don’t open your eyes.

He stroked her again. Even slower. His cool hands, his long fingers cupped her ass and gripped her so he could push his cock in deeper. She wanted to scream, he made her feel so good.

She squeezed her eyes tighter. As long as she didn’t look, it couldn’t be him. She squeezed her muscles tighter around his cock. She’d show him.

“That feels good, Slayer. Squeeze me again.”

Slayer. Nobody called her that but him. She might as well look. There was no chance it could be anyone else.

“Spike?” She opened her eyes and looked straight into his. Blue like the sky. Could her life be any worse? Hung over, horny and desperate to get laid by Spike.

“Yeah, baby. You like that? Gonna cum for me again?”

Again?

He made her cum and she’d missed it? Her First Cumming Experience, with another person any way, and she’d MISSED IT? Think about that later. After he made her cum.

“Gonna cum,” she panted, “Then, I’m gonna kill you.” As soon as I can walk, which might take a day or two.

“Don’t think you want to kill me at this particular moment, luv.”

She ground her pelvis against his hard cock. “Hurry.”

He slowed down.

“Spike! Make me cum or I’ll, I’ll …”

“You’ll what, Slayer? Stake me? That big cock you’re riding will disappear into dust if you do.”

“Stake you later.” She dug her nails into his butt to make him go faster.

He didn’t.

“Spike!”

She was right on the edge. If he’d only go a little faster, then she could cum right away.

“Beg for it, Slayer and I might help you out.”

No way. Not begging. Not begging Spike to fuck me.

“I hate you!”

His cock inched into her again.

I’ll never cum at this rate.

“Beg me.”

His cock slid out again. He stopped with just the tip of his dick inside her puss.

I’ll die I’ll die I’ll die I’ll die if he doesn’t make me cum!

She pushed her hips up to force him in again, but he turned his body to prevent her.

“Something you want to say, sweet Slayer?” He traced his finger around her ear, like he had all the time in this dimension.

Okay. She’d beg. She’d beg, then he’d fuck her and she’d cum and then she’d kill him and nobody would ever know that she’d begged a vampire - she’d begged Spike - to fuck her.

“Please, Spike.” Her voice didn’t sound all that humble and begging like.

Spike moved his hips in tiny circles, teasing her with his tip.

She tried to push closer, shove him back inside her, but he resisted. He enjoyed torturing her. Enjoyed seeing her helpless.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.” Please please please please please please.

“You want my cock?”

“Yes. I want it.” Want. Want. Want.

“Say that.”

I hate him more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my whole life, more than PAR-ker even, but I’ll say it. I’ll say anything he wants. I only have to say it. I don’t have to like it.

“Please, I want your cock. You rotten bastard.”

Spike stopped moving. “Not nice. Try again.”

Why was he tormenting her? She only wanted to cum. Why wouldn’t he let her cum? She slipped her hand between their bodies so she could touch herself. She couldn’t wait for Spike. Oh, that was much better.

Spike jerked her hand out and pinned it to the pillow.

“No self help, Slayer. Now, where were we? Oh, yes. You were begging me to fuck you with my nice big cock.”

She ought to shove him off and leave, right now. She ought to hit him or scream or something. But, she couldn’t. She had to cum. She’d already humiliated herself by begging him to fuck her silly. She might as well be nice. If nice was what it took to get what she wanted, then, she’d say something nice. She stuck her lower lip out and gave him a soulful pout.

“Please, Spike, fuck me with your big hard cock. I wanna cum,” she said, in what she hoped was a low, sexy, whiskey-type voice, whatever that was.

“That’s better,” he gave her a nasty grin and shoved himself deep into her and resumed his exasperatingly slow pace.

Buffy gasped with relief. She hated him.

Spike lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. His lips felt so good, she opened her mouth before she remembered just who she was kissing and how much she hated him.

She clenched her teeth so he couldn’t put his tongue in her mouth. No way was she going to let him kiss her.

He tweaked her nipple to get her attention. “Open your mouth.”

“Eek! No! I’m not kissing you, you pig. Just do me.”

He stopped thrusting and propped his head on his hand so he could stare at her with his sparkly, blue eyes while he waited for her to make up her mind to kiss him.

No! Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop!

“Open your mouth and kiss me, or I’ll stop.”

“Okay, okay, okay!”

Killing isn’t good enough. I’m going to torture him for days. I’m going to cut off his head with a dull nail file.

He pressed his mouth against hers again and she opened to take his tongue into her mouth. He rewarded her by thrusting a little bit faster.

Good. Good kissing. Good cock. She panted, she whimpered, she squirmed and moaned.

He got down to serious fucking, thrusting into her hard and fast. She came like a hand grenade exploding, wave after wave of intense sexy goodness sloshing over her. She scrounged on his cock to make it last and last and last.

When she’d exhausted herself, she flopped her knees apart, while Spike kept fucking her. He was getting her excited again. She had to get him out of her before more sexy badness occurred and more humiliating begging was required.

“Hurry up. You’ll make me horny again.”

“Bitch. Got what you want. You don’t care if I get off or not.”

Spike’s body jerked, and he spurted his cum into her. He collapsed on her, resting his forehead on hers. He sprinkled kisses on her ears, her eyebrows, the corners of her eyelids and the flat tip of her nose.

“Get out of me.” She had to get his cock out now, before she got excited again and made an even bigger spectacle out of herself.

“Think I’ll hang out here a bit longer,” he said. He nibbled on her eyebrow. “I like fucking your tight little cunny, Slayer. Fucking slayers is almost as good as killing them.”

Buffy punched his nose.

“Damn it, Slayer!” Spike rolled off, taking his cock with him.

Buffy whimpered as he pulled out. She hadn’t meant get out that instant. She stumbled out of bed and stomped off to find the bathroom.