“Buffy…love…I’m sure this is right bloody amusin’ for you and all, but…*gah*! Bloody…soddin’…*Buffy*!”

Spike’s cautious protests faded swiftly into helpless babble as Buffy stroked him firmly through his leather shorts, alternating light, teases traces of her fingertips with harder, more insistent pokes and pinches. The bound vampire arched his back, pushing upward into her touch, desperate for more than was possible with the thick, taut leather between her hand and his swollen, aching member.

“Buffy…please, love…” he gasped out as she teasingly withdrew her hand, holding it just out of reach of his straining attempts.

“Oh, come on now, Spikey,” Buffy protested with an exaggerated pout. “That’s no fun. You weren’t supposed to get to the begging *that* quickly.” She paused, a smirk on her lips as she leaned in close and met his eyes to whisper, “Has anyone ever told you you’re easy?”

Spike returned her smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement despite the tension of his situation. “All the time, love,” he confessed, his tongue darting out between his teeth in a suggestive gesture that had become quite familiar to Buffy over the past few months, but still did not fail to quicken her pulse…and other things as well.

Buffy suppressed a giggle, giving him a severe look, though her eyes were laughing. “Slut,” she accused in a low, dark voice, swatting lightly at his aching groin.

Spike bit back a strangled whimper at the harsh contact, jerking against his bonds in an instinctive reaction. Buffy ran her hand slowly over the area she had just slapped in a gesture that would have been soothing had he not already been so painfully aroused. As it was, the touch only served to intensify his pain and pleasure, now impossibly mingled together and bordering on agony.

“You like it like this, don’t you?” Buffy continued in that same low, dirty tone of voice that he found so impossibly arousing. “Being my little slut…my little sex toy, all tied down for me to play with…you like it, don’t you, Spike?”

Spike nodded obediently, though his response was not only because he knew she wanted it. “Yeah,” he gasped out breathlessly. “Yeah, Buffy…”

He drew in his breath sharply as she suddenly unzipped the front of his shorts, allowing his weeping erection to spring free of their confines. The cool air of the room hit his throbbing member, now warmed by the combination of his own arousal and the nearly constant friction Buffy had been creating, and the sensation made him tremble with pleasure and need.

Buffy gripped his bound member a bit more tightly than was pleasant, jerking forward as she leaned down over him, smiling into his eyes. “Good,” she remarked, “because you’ve still got a good long while to enjoy it. You gave me a *really* good Christmas present, Spike…and I’m nowhere near finished playing with it.”

As she began to pull slowly on his engorged manhood, her thumb slipping down to stroke the underside in a slow, circular motion, one last thought filled Spike’s head, before the capacity for rational thought left him completely.

*She’s got you tied down, torturing you, using you like a bleedin’ dildo. You shouldn’t be so bloody turned on by this, mate.*

But he was, despite himself…and he was in no state to fight it. As she slowly, torturously worked his body to an even higher frenzy of need, Spike surrendered completely to the sensations, allowing them to consume his thoughts in a tumultuous confusion of pleasure and agony and need.

*************************************

*He shouldn’t be so turned on by this. I’m *using* him. Like some kind of sex toy, just…just using him! He’s not supposed to like it.*

Buffy’s frustrated thoughts were followed immediately by an accusing voice in her head, reminding her of what she already knew, what she had been trying not to think about since surrendering to Spike’s request.

*Neither are you, Buffy. You’re not supposed to enjoy treating him like this…using him…degrading him…*

Of course, the fevered, pleading moans and whimpers that her hands managed to wring from the writhing, desperate vampire beneath her made it hard to focus on that thought. Spike bucked beneath her, his wrists and ankles twisting against the leather that bound them as he struggled to find some release for the ever-rising pressure she was building within him.

*He could break those cuffs if he wanted to,* Buffy realized, her smile fading into a more serious expression at the thought that followed that one. *And he will…any minute now. He’s not going to take this for long.*

She ignored the sensation of panic that gripped her heart at the idea, the mental image that filled her mind of Spike snapping the cuffs – or possibly the bedposts – with ease and rising from the bed with a snarl, probably striking out at her before stalking from the room, never to darken her door again – or to allow her to darken his, either. No one would put up with the kind of torment she had been putting him through tonight; no one would allow themselves to be used in that way…not for long, anyway.

*But that’s what you want…isn’t it? For him to finally realize you’ll never love him? Realize, give up, and go away?*

Buffy put that question out of her mind, choosing instead to focus on Spike’s beautifully responsive reaction to her touch, as she trailed her fingertips teasingly down the underside of his erection, pausing at the base to flick her thumbnail sharply across the surface of the swollen, aching sac behind it.

Spike let out a startled yelp, and she couldn’t tell whether it was pain or pleasure that had elicited the sound. She giggled darkly, repeating the motion, gratified by the low groan he let out, even as he pressed upward into her touch.

“No,” she stated with a smirk, “that’s all you get for now, Spikey.”

He let out a plaintive whimper of protest, apparently beyond words at that point, but she just shifted forward slightly, pressing his torso down firmly against the mattress, and stretching his arms painfully against their restraints. He looked up at her through anxious, questioning eyes, still hazy with the overwhelming sensations that filled him, obviously wondering what she was going to do next.

“Buffy…Buffy, please…” he gasped out, his pelvis thrusting upward behind her in a desperate attempt to regain some sort of contact.

“Shhh,” she commanded sternly. “Don’t make me get the gag again.”

Spike bit his lower lip, turning his face away slightly and closing his eyes as his breath began to come in short, shallow pants through flaring nostrils. Buffy was filled with the thrill of her power as she realized just how hard it was on him, how his body was yearning for the completion she was denying him.

But she was not finished yet.

Buffy had moved far enough up on the mattress that the tray of toys on the nightstand was now easily within her reach. She smiled as she stretched toward it and selected a pair of tiny clamps, testing their tension between her thumbs and forefingers. She was a bit startled at the strength of them, wincing inwardly as she thought how painful actually wearing them might be.

*Good thing I’m not going to be wearing them…*

Spike’s eyes were still closed…but only for a moment longer. As Buffy fastened one of the clamps onto his left nipple, his eyes flew open and he cried out in pain. He looked up at her pleadingly, his eyes fevered and glassy as he writhed beneath her in a vain attempt to ease the pressure. Buffy just smiled down at him as she placed the other clamp on his other nipple, her smile widening as he drew in a sharp hiss, but did not cry out again.

He stifled a whimper as she gave his left nipple an experimental flick, observing how much more sensitive the clamps made his already tender flesh. She frowned pensively, turning to watch his bound member as she flicked his nipple again, a smirk crossing her lips as his erection jumped slightly within its bonds at the contact, and she realized that the clamps were not solely an instrument of punishment.

“Like that, do you?” she observed, repeating the gesture on the opposite nipple. “Like a little hurt mixed in with your lovin’, Spike?”

“Always have,” he ground out through clenched teeth, his entire body jerking as she gave the sensitive skin just below one clamp a pinch between the nail of her thumb and forefinger.

“That’s good,” Buffy mused. “Wonder how much you can take?”

“How much can you dish out, love?”

Buffy froze, staring down at him in amazement, taking in the open expression on his face as he met her eyes, gazing up at her with an intensity that made her want to turn away. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, her jaw setting defensively, and she opened her mouth for an angry retort…but Spike beat her to the response.

“Not a challenge, pet,” he assured her, his voice low and husky with the intensity of the sensations ravaging his body. “Just lettin’ you know…however much you can give out…that’s what I’ll take, love. Already told you…I *love* you. I’m yours…an’ that means no matter what you do to me, you’re not gonna change that, Buffy. Not ever.”

Spike had done a lot of things over the years to piss Buffy off. He had tried to kill her numerous times, kidnapped her friends, and generally been an annoyance in every way he could find. He had even insulted her sexual prowess – albeit, long before he actually had any frame of reference for his comments. Many times over, she had been very angry with him, angry enough to kill him.

Somehow, in that moment, his soft but strong declaration of undying love topped them all.

An irrational fury rising up within her, Buffy scoffed at his words, rolling her eyes as she echoed flatly, dubiously, “No matter what. *Anything*.”

“ ‘S right, love,” Spike whispered, gasping for breath against the ever-building pain that shot from his abused nipples, straight through his body to his trapped and swollen groin. “Anything. ‘ll always love you.”

“You can break out of those,” Buffy observed in an almost accusing voice. “You can get up and walk out of here anytime you want.”

“I know,” Spike agreed softly, meeting her eyes with a solemn, intent gaze. “Just don’t want to.”

“Oh, yeah?” Buffy sneered, her voice trembling with some emotion she didn’t want to try too hard to identify. “What if I do *this*?” As she spoke, she reached out to squeeze one of the clamps between her fingers, pressing it tighter for a moment before giving it a vicious twist.

Spike bit back an anguished moan, a spasm of pain seizing his body, before she released her agonizing grip, and he collapsed back against the mattress, gasping for breath.

“Still feel like sticking around?” Buffy demanded softly, her face inches from his.

Spike did not hesitate, only nodded firmly, unable to find the words to speak just yet in the wake of her unexpected assault.

“Hmmm,” Buffy murmured thoughtfully, though there was a frightening hardness to her voice as she reached behind her, pinching the head of his erection tightly between her fingers. “Okay, then,” she went on casually, ignoring the vampire’s plaintive cry of pain as she dug her nails into his most vulnerable parts. “How about now? Still wanna stay? Still so madly in love with the Slayer you were supposed to kill like all the others?”

Spike hesitated this time, flinching slightly at her harsh words, but it seemed it was more to regain his composure than out of any doubt as to his own answer. After a moment he gasped out, “Yes…Buffy…”

“You’re pathetic, Spike,” Buffy snarled, cutting off his halting voice, unable to bear the concern and sympathy she heard in it – unable to make herself stop long enough to analyze why such concern would be in Spike’s voice at the moment. “You’re a pathetic waste of a vampire – not even able to fight me. All you can do is follow me around, trying to get me to love you. Well, I’m *not* going to, Spike. Get that through your head. I don’t deserve to be with a filthy, disgusting *thing* like you.”

Spike looked up at her, and Buffy was dismayed and frustrated to see that instead of anger, she saw sorrow and understanding in his eyes. “Buffy,” he whispered. “Let me up. Let me…just let me hold you, love…”

Incensed by his words, Buffy struck out at him, backhanding him across the face before leaning down close to him, her voice shaking dangerously now, her vision blurred slightly as she declared in a scathing tone of disgust and hatred, “I’ll *never* let you hold me, Spike. I’ll never let you that close. You’re a worthless, soulless thing. There’s nothing good in you, Spike. Why would I ever lower myself to your level?”

Spike flinched, a wounded expression in his eyes, and something predatory in Buffy latched onto that, pressing forward toward an objective she was not even quite aware of, forcing herself to ignore the impulse to stop this madness, now, to loosen his bonds and allow him to take her in his arms.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she persisted, her voice soft and seething with rage. “You’re thinking that I already have. I’ve already let you in. But not really…and you know it. After all the nights we’ve spent…all the things we’ve done…you’ve still never really touched me…and that just kills you, doesn’t it? Knowing that I’ve *never once* really let you in?”

Spike closed his eyes, shaking his head in denial of her cruel words, his body trembling in response to them, but she went on.

“How about this scenario, Spike? What if I keep you here…just like this…frustrated and in pain and suffering, just because I *like* you like this? Just because I *hate* you that much? And I’ll touch you…and I’ll mock you…and I’ll use you…but I’ll *never* let you in. Never again. Because you’re not good enough. And I’ll tell you so, every day. You’ll be my pretty little sex toy…but never anything more. Because you *couldn’t* be. You’re not a man. Nothing. Worthless. All I could ever want from you is to use you. And I’ll make sure you *never* forget that.”

Buffy drew in her breath softly at the end of her rant, her eyes widening in startled horror at the poison that had spewed from her own mouth. Spike was quiet, his eyes closed, his head turned to the side, appearing strangely calm as he listened to her enraged words, making no response, though his body was trembling with pain and need…not all of which was purely physical.

Her voice was quiet, almost defeated, as she finished.

“What about then, Spike? What if I decide to do all that to you? You still gonna love me? How are you gonna feel about me then?”

Spike was quiet for a long moment, and Buffy blinked back the tears blurring her vision, surprised to find them in her eyes at all. She wiped at them with the back of her hand, staring down at the still, silent vampire. Her throat went dry and her heart ached as she became aware of the slight shaking of his shoulders, the convulsive working of his throat as he swallowed back a sob, and the dark circles of moisture on the bedspread on either side of his face.

Spike was crying.

And when he spoke, his words sucked the breath out of her, her stomach dropping like a stone within her.

“Gonna love you, Buffy,” he replied to her question in a voice hoarse with tears and heavy with devotion. “Still. *Always*.”