The voice was nasal and sounded bored, and it woke her out of a sound sleep. Surprisingly, her reaction was not to shoot out of bed, ready to fight, or even to jump in startled surprise. Instead, she just kind of came awake, and looked at him curiously. Her lack of alarm could almost alarm her, except for how nothing seemed able to.
“Buffy Anne Summers,” the man said. He was dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit, wore wire-rimmed bifocals on his clean-shaven face, and had close-cropped hair with a part that seemed almost gouged into his head. He held a clipboard in one hand, and looked at it with the kind of detached disinterest that bespoke someone doing a job that held little thrill for them. “The Slayer. One girl in all the world with the power to fight back against the forces of darkness. Is that right?”
“Uh, yeah,” Buffy replied, only barely able to muster the willpower to feel the need for a frown, let alone let one form on her face. Shouldn’t she be frightened about a strange man that had somehow made his way into her bedroom? If not frightened for herself, since as the Slayer she was more than capable of handling some crazed burglar, then at least frightened for her mom and sister?
It seemed that for whatever reason, she wasn’t.
“Good to meet you,” the man said, although it sounded like he was going through the motions. “My name is Gimmel, the duly appointed arbiter of Punishments and Rewards for the forces of good, legendary giver of boons to the human and semi-human races, and the omnipotent master of my tasks.”
“Never heard of you,” Buffy remarked.
The man — Gimmel — sighed and held up a hand. “Please refrain from commenting, and limit yourself to simple yes or no answers. I’ve a lot of rewards to hand out, and I’m already behind by a few million people. I’ve been playing catch-up for the last eleven millennia. Honestly, things were much easier when half the kids died at birth.”
“Oh,” Buffy tried to say, but nothing came out. Instead, she just watched him curiously.
“I am here,” he continued. “Because the rewards of another involve you, the Slayer, so I’m going to economize and hit two birds with one stone. I just have a few simple questions for you, really a formality beyond anything else, as I already know the answer. We just need them for the official record. So, you are the Slayer?”
“Yes,” she replied, simply and without clarification.
“Good,” he made a mark on his clipboard. “It seems here, Slayer, that you’ve saved the world quite a few times. That’s good, very good, as a matter of fact. Those deeds have given not only you positive points in the general listings, but the other involved in this reward as well. However, unfair as it may seem, while you can share in your successes, only the Slayer is responsible for these, shall we say, dark marks on your record.” He frowned, clucking his tongue as he flipped through a few pages.
“There are a surprising number of innocent deaths here,” he said, frowning. “And it’s only your tremendous works of good that are overcoming those deaths.”
Buffy, were she able to muster the emotion, would have felt her eyes go wide. Innocent deaths? What innocent deaths? Okay, maybe there had been one or two demons that maybe didn’t deserve quite so big a beating before being killed, but that was her job! What was he talking about?
“So, normally I don’t get involved with someone as gray as you, but as I said, you’re tied in with another reward, so I’m cutting you a break. Oh no, don’t thank me.” He raised a hand, shaking his head, and Buffy found her mouth opening.
“Thank you,” she said without meaning to.
“As I was saying, you’re on the light side of gray, but still gray. As you live on the hellmouth, that will have some influence on the punishment side of the reward, but don’t fret, I’m sure you’ll be quite happy with how things work out. I’m here to help, after all. The forces of good always deserve a just reward for their actions.”
He flipped another page, and Buffy wondered if he was reading from some kind of script.
“All right then, we come to the questions. As I said, a mere formality, we just need your answers for the record.” He pulled a stylish pen out of his front pocket, and licked the tip before putting it to the clipboard. “The first is the most important. Aside from your family, who is the one person in the world you would trust to hold power over you?”
Buffy blinked at him, and could almost be surprised by the question. Through the haze of whatever he was doing to her mind, however, she simply weighed the question without much worry. Who would she trust with power over her?
Riley was the first to come to mind. Riley her boyfriend, soldier and member of the Initiative. Except Riley had kept secrets from her for so long, and Riley had been controlled by the Initiative many times. She liked Riley, maybe even loved him. That thought surprised her, as she had assumed before this that she already did love Riley.
Despite those feelings, she had to admit she wasn’t sure she could fully trust Riley. That thought stung a bit, even through the dulled emotion that seemed to exist within her.
Who then? Willow? No, as much as Buffy loved Willow, she’d proven more than once that she wasn’t able to handle power so well. Buffy could still feel the cold, ashy taste of Spike’s lips on her own, thanks entirely to Willow casting a spell on her. No, that was out.
Giles? Giles had drugged her, entranced her, and given her the drugs that had stripped her of her Slayer powers. Yes, he’d come around in the end, refusing to give her the test called the Cruciamentum, but the sting of the knowledge that Giles could have done such a thing in the first place still stuck with her.
Angel? Angel could be Angelus. No. She could never trust Angel with power over her, as much as it burned her to think it.
Then, unbidden, a memory came to her. The memory of artificial love and devotion thrust into her, formed into a pounding obsession for one of her best friends. The memory of the desire to give herself to him, ravish him and fulfill his wildest fantasies. The memory of the one time her best friend had true power over her, and how he had acted far more honorably than she would have ever guessed.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” the memory whispered. “Sometimes, the remote impossible impossibility that you might like me was all that sustained me. But not now. Not like this. This isn’t the real you. You’re only here because of a spell. I mean, if I thought you had one clue of what it would mean to me…But you don’t. So I can’t.”
Funny, she’d never really thought about it before.
She spoke without being aware of it. “Xander.”
Gimmel nodded, and made a mark on his board. “As expected. Good. So you would say you trust Xander more than anyone else outside of your family?”
The answer surprised her, but she gave it truthfully. “Yes.”
Another mark. “Good. Now, your boyfriend, Riley Finn, are you in love with him?”
She wanted to say yes. But some part of her questioned it. Some part of her questioned him. Riley was…Safe? She loved him, but was she in love with him?
“N-no,” she whispered, and she was sure if her reactions weren’t being dampened, she would have been shocked at her own inner realization.
“Very good,” Gimmel said. “Well, that’s that. Everything seems to be in order, so I’ll get underway.” He scribbled something, and turned to a new page. “You see, Alexander Lavelle Harris is my next client. I’ve got quite the list of deeds from him that entitles him to a very hefty reward. Let’s see here…”
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and began reading. “First and foremost, he was responsible for bringing you back to life several years ago. That in itself is more than enough to garner him a sizeable reward. However, he’s also saved the world on numerous occasions. Acathla, that’s impressive. Something called a zombie bomb. And of course in reviving you, he gets full credit for all of your own good deeds done since then as well. That’s the genius of the side of good, after all. Supporting good breeds more good.”
He pointed with his pen as he spoke. “Then there are the other times he’s saved your life. From Angelus three times, full marks there. From the Master, of course. From a member of the sisterhood of the Jhe, that’s an obscure little cult.”
Buffy blinked slowly. The Sisterhood of the Jhe? When had Xander ever saved her from the sisterhood of the Jhe? The only time he’d ever been involved with them, he’d received a nasty blow to the head, but that was it.
She realized she’d stopped paying attention, while Gimmel continued to rattle off times Xander had saved her life.
“And finally just a few days ago, he essentially took a bullet for you, leaping in front of a weapon fired by a Toth demon. Most impressive. So, as you can see, clearly a candidate for reward. As such, it was determined that what Alexander Lavelle Harris would want the most, is of course, the Slayer.”
Buffy stared at the strange man, who sighed slightly.
“That’s where you come in. Unfortunately, your own dark record, as well as the ambient energies of the Hellmouth mars what would have otherwise been a simple matter in allowing you to realize your love for Alexander Lavelle Harris. Still, I think you’ll all be pleased in the long run.” He afforded her a polite smile.
“As part of the Hellmouth’s influence over the reward, the Slayer will be given to Alexander Lavelle Harris, to control, possess, and command in body and mind. This is why, obviously, we ascertain whom you would trust with such a power before giving such a reward. It wouldn’t be fair to give you to another if you didn’t trust them, so we would have had to come to some other resolution, had you not trusted him.”
Buffy could almost scoff. Wouldn’t be fair? What was going on here? Could this be real?
“So, that in itself is a simple matter.” He snapped his fingers. “There. Now I’ll be adding a few tweakings so you can enjoy yourself, and so that Alexander Lavelle Harris will be compelled to enjoy his gift. The changes wrought to the rewards by your dark record and the involvement of the Hellmouth are such that you may find yourself in situations you might have a hard time enjoying. Worry not; I’ll make sure you find great enjoyment in it. Your reward, such as it is, will be the pleasure you will receive in being with the man you trust. As such, I’ll be enhancing your desires to help you get over human concepts of shame, silly as they are.”
The man smirked, and added under his breath, “If the Hellmouth thinks it can bully Gimmel into relinquishing the reward of true love to two deserving mortals, it has another think coming. I’ll counter anything it throws out there.”
Gimmel clucked his tongue slowly again, and looked through the pages. “Ah, here we are, sexual kinks of the current Slayer.” He frowned. “My goodness, quite a few here. Almost as if you were two people, isn’t that interesting?” He shrugged, and checked down the list. His pen would move to a point, he would snap his fingers, and Buffy would feel a brief surge of…Something. Then he could make a checkmark, and move to the next one. Sometimes he would remark on what he was reading, which was almost enough to make Buffy cold with dread.
“Hmm, rough sex. That’s good. Apparently Alexander Lavelle Harris, despite only ever being with you and Anyanka in a sexual sense, has had quite the sexual liberation thanks to the former demon he’s helped to redeem. Anyanka obviously doesn’t cotton to those foolish human ideals regarding sex. I’ll tell you what; I’ll up this one just a little more than usual. Oh no, don’t thank me.”
Again, he raised his hand, and Buffy spoke at once. “Thank you.”
“Not at all.” He moved down the list a little more. “Enjoys bondage, that’s good, the Hellmouth will no doubt have some things to say about that.” He nodded to himself as he checked, snapped, and moved on.
“Closet exhibitionist.”
Snap, check.
“Many experiments with lesbianism in the last year. That’s definitely a plus.”
Snap, check. Buffy tried to speak, tried to explain what she was pretty sure was going on, but was of course unable to. Even as she thought of who was adding to this mix-up, she felt a flush of arousal. Oh no.
“Enjoys spankings, also good.”
Snap, check.
Gimmel went on like that for some time. Sometimes, the things he mentioned were sexual desires Buffy was fully aware of in herself. Others were things she kept deeply suppressed, never admitting she could have such feelings. Still others were clearly not her own kinks, but rather the kinks of The Slayer. The other Slayer.
The kinks of Faith.
“Okay,” Gimmel said after a while. “Now I’ll just pepper in a few things as specific rewards for Alexander Lavelle Harris. The Slayer will of course greatly enjoy his touch, her desires will mirror his own, and she will always be aware of the truth of her inner trust and caring for him. There we are, I won’t bother going into the minor stuff.” He snapped his fingers, and Buffy felt the now familiar flush.
“Well, that’s that. Enjoy your rewards; try not to let the punishments get you down, and congratulations on battling the forces of darkness so effectively. I trust you’ll be more than pleased with your reward, much to the chagrin of the Hellmouth. For a full listing of the exact specifications of your reward, in conjunctions with Alexander Lavelle Harris, please contact Haffersmadislamnatioliskanamariastontalonomapomouskoalowski at the Center for The Forces of Good. Good night, and no, please don’t thank me.”
He held up his hand. As before, she spoke at once. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he nodded, made a checkmark on his clipboard, and was gone, as if he were never there.
As soon as he was gone, Buffy felt the full impact of what he’d said slam into her. Her eyes went wide, and she opened her mouth to speak. “But I’m not the only Sla—”
The rest of her sentence was cut off by the obstruction that was suddenly in her mouth, strapped around her head. She grunted, and was gone.
Gimmel’s job was to give rewards. Real rewards. Epic stuff, for epic deeds. His job was to reward those who had sacrificed, those who’d gone above and beyond their call. There were beings that performed deeds of great importance, and his job was to see they were compensated for those deeds.
Eventually.
Unfortunately for Gimmel, he was the only one assigned to such a task, and although he was technically a being of near total omnipotence, it was still a rough job to keep up on. With six billion humans on the planet, not to mention all the demons and human-demon hybrids, it was hard to keep up with all the rewards. He sometimes ran a little behind.
Most of the time, Gimmel enjoyed his job. It was fun to give rewards to heroes. Sometimes they were minor, a winning lottery ticket, a promotion, or a new love. Sometimes they were major, a new life, a mystical power, or a fantasy fulfilled. It all depended on the situation.
So it was that Gimmel, upon checking his list of back-deeds, gave the cosmic equivalent of a smile as he checked the status of one Alexander Harris of Sunnydale, California. He gave a little murmur of appreciation at the things he read.
Returning the life of one of the most important Champions for good, and nullifying a dark prophecy. That in itself was astonishing. From Gimmel’s notes, it seemed that the Slayer was to have died nearly four years ago, but that this young man had kept that from occurring. The amount of goodwill that heaped onto the man’s favor was astounding. Not only did he have his own deeds, but those of the Slayer had been tacked on.
Gimmel checked his status sheet, and was slightly surprised to see that although the Slayer had done a great many good deeds since that time, there seemed something of a mar on her record. A dark streak that confused him.
Perhaps he would have investigated it further, if he weren’t in such a rush. Instead, he checked back on Alexander Harris, who was his main target.
Hmm, he had a strong hand in the redemption of Anyanka the demon. He’d been in the position to sacrifice his own well being for others at least a dozen times. Indeed, it seemed only a few days ago he’d jumped in front of a beam weapon of unknown power, resulting in a splitting of his body into two separate personalities. The deeds just continued to stack up.
There were a few little dark spots, but none of them came close to counteracting the most powerful of his deeds, in resurrecting the Slayer and nullifying the prophecy. So Gimmel smiled, and snapped his awareness to Alexander Harris.
Drat. He lived on the Hellmouth. That would make things difficult. The ambient energies of the Hellmouth would seek to twist any reward given. Not to the point of destroying the reward, but certainly altering its intended effects. Gimmel sighed, and knew he would have to get creative in order to counteract the Hellmouth’s intervention. Already he could see it twisting the situation, and Gimmel was forced to respond in kind. Luckily, the Hellmouth didn’t have full reign to twist things, so long as Alexander Lavelle Harris accepted his reward.
The most fitting reward seemed quite obvious. For the boy who had so often risked his life for the Slayer, the Slayer he would so receive. That was simple enough. There was more than an underlying attraction already existing between the essences of the Slayer and Alexander Harris. Gimmel easily fanned that flame.
In normal circumstances, he’d simply reveal to them the love each held for the other. Unfortunately, the dark streak on the Slayer’s record, combined with the heavy influences of the Hellmouth, meant he would have to get creative.
A reward for both, he decided, although thanks to the Slayer’s dark streak on her record, she would have to endure a greater twisting of her side of the reward. Thus she would be given to Alexander Harris, mind and body. The soul, Gimmel believed, would be freely given shortly thereafter. If he couldn’t reveal their love, he could at least put them in the position to recognize it, all while satisfying the darker desires of the Hellmouth and the Dark Punishments.
Gimmel smiled. He was always happy to help the side of good, and he was the best they had. The Hellmouth might think that putting the Slayer in otherwise demeaning situations would null any ability of their love flourishing. Gimmel knew better. Humans were notoriously flexible in enjoying sexual situations, and love, true love especially, was always capable of shining through. Gimmel would make sure that instead of shame and fear, the Slayer instead embraced her trust and enjoyed how she might feel. That, Gimmel felt, would be enough.
Thus it was that Alexander Harris was given dominion over the Slayer. His commands would be her will, and her body would be for his enjoyment. The Slayer, in turn, would find her happiness and acceptance with Alexander Harris, and become aware of the trust and love that could someday blossom between them.
Gimmel exerted his will, and it was so done. He smiled, and turned his attention to other things, and never gave Alexander Harris or the Slayer another thought ever again.
If he had, he might have noticed two things.
The first, was the Hellmouth’s twisting of his reward. Alexander Harris’s commands would be the Slayer’s belief, desire, and uncontested will. The Slayer’s body would be for his enjoyment and display. The Slayer would find her happiness with Alexander Harris, but would that be the happiness of the flesh, or the happiness of the soul? Doubt was cast, and the unstoppable magicks of Reward and Darkness mixed, creating a new reality, a new truth for the Slayer and Alexander Harris. His power over her might frighten her, might frighten all.
These changes might have been easily overcome, with the essences of the Slayer and Alexander Harris able to move beyond the strangeness of their new places. Unfortunately for them, Gimmel was unaware of one important truth.
There was more than one Slayer now. The reward for one had been given to both. The punishment for one had been given to both. The Slayer had been given to Alexander Harris. The Slayers.
If Gimmel had known?
He would have said “Oops,” and moved on. Because in the grand scheme of things, what’s a lot of kinky sex matter?
Apparently a lot, otherwise there wouldn’t be a story about it.
Anya, formerly Anyanka the vengeance demon, now a unique young woman with a keen interest in doing what she liked, sighed happily as she came awake. Beside her lay her boyfriend Xander Harris, construction worker, new-apartment owner, rocker-of-her-world and doer-of-good.
Her smile widened as she felt Xander’s arm around her waist, holding her sleepily as he drooled into his pillow. Anya turned her nude body to face him, and gazed at his face. Her man, her boyfriend, and the person she loved. They were together in his new apartment, and she got to live with him. No longer did they have to suffer the indignity of Xander’s parents in the house above them.
How odd, to feel so happy and content, despite the knowledge that she had, at best, a mere eighty years left to enjoy her life. Somehow, it seemed like spending those years with Xander might well be worth mortality.
Especially since he’d helped her become aware of so many of the pleasures of life. From the nearly blinding ecstasy when they were in the midst of a frantic session of lovemaking, to the simple giddy feeling she got when she made up a dance to express her happiness.
Life, Anya had decided, was good. She was in a relationship with a man she loved, who helped her adjust to her new existence, explored her new interests with her, and seemed on the fast-track to a successful life. He was a good person, and she started to think that she was a better person for knowing him.
Stretching sleepily, Anya slid out of bed. Their first night in Xander’s new apartment had been very satisfactory. She’d told Xander about a new position she read about which involved her legs being pushed up near her head, followed by violent thrusting and a delicious mixture of dull pain and powerful pleasure. He’d more than lived up to her expectations, and they’d both slept the sleep of the sexually exhausted.
A small smile still on her face, Anya quietly stepped across the carpet and opened the door to the rest of the apartment. The bright light of the morning contrasted sharply with the much darker interior of the bedroom, and she blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted, closing the door to the bedroom quietly.
Eyes half squinted shut, Anya made her way to where she was pretty sure the refrigerator was, feeling just a little confused about the layout of the new apartment. Some blind fumbling found the handle, and she swung it open.
A moment later, there came a muffled grunt followed by a rustling sound. Anya froze, and closed the door slowly. Her eyes mostly adjusted now, she turned back around, faced the living room, and felt her jaw open slowly. She’d only seen things like this in her research sessions when searching for new things for her and Xander to do.
What did this mean? Had Xander done this? Someone else? Should she be excited, angry, or just confused? She decided to go with confused for the time being, and frowned as she stepped into the living room.
On the coffee table were two figures, two women. Both were mostly nude: one with long blonde hair, the other with dark black hair. Anya winced at the position they were trussed up in. It didn’t look too comfortable, but on the other hand, it looked very exciting.
Their heads met in the center of the table, faces turned together so they each were looking at the other. Or at least, they would be if they were not blindfolded. Their backs were against the table, and their mouths were secured together with some kind of gag, she could only make out a little bit of bright red in between their mouths. The gag was secured with straps going around both of their heads, and it kept their lips nearly touching. It gave them the appearance that they were kissing, albeit an upside-down kiss.
That was far from all. Their arms were secured under the table, bound by thick leather padded metal cuffs. A black metal spreader bar attached to their ankles by similar cuffs spread their feet apart. Then, in a torturously devious way, their legs were both drawn back nearly over their heads and connected to each other. The result was that they formed a kind of triangle, backs against the table and legs high and wide in the air, arced over the other’s head. If one tried to pull her legs down, the other’s would be pulled further back, and vice versa. Every so often one would droop, causing the other to squeal in a muffled voice and tug back.
Anya stepped closer, trying to remain as silent as she could. Blindfolded as they were, she wasn’t sure the women knew she was there. She inspected closer, and could see no locks or clasps holding on the cuffs or straps. They all seemed to be one solid piece. How were they supposed to get them off?
Further inspection revealed thick leather collars around both necks. Anya’s brow furrowed as she read the inscription on the metal strip that lined the collar.
Property of Alexander Harris.
Again, the question of whether she should be jealous, angry, excited, or confused assaulted Anya. On the one hand, this could be a sign of Xander finally being willing to explore some of the sexual situations she’d read about that he’d never wanted to press too far. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of Xander somehow convincing two girls into naked bondage fun without involving her first.
Unless it was supposed to be a surprise for her. Bisexuality wasn’t yet on her list of things to explore, as Anya was still more than happy with what heterosexual practices she could find. Perhaps Xander was trying to tell her he’d be more willing to engage in bondage games if they could involve others as well.
She frowned. Maybe she would be okay with that, so long as it was clear she was the girlfriend, and these girls were just the spice. Shifting her weight to one side, Anya examined the two girls.
The blonde was smaller, and made soft whimpering sounds every so often. Her breasts were respectable for her small stature, although Anya was pleased to note that her own were much larger. The blonde’s were topped with tiny nipples that poked out like pencil erasers, and her areola were a pinkish kind of red. Judging from how hard they were, it seemed the girl was at least a little turned on.
Moving slowly around the two bound bodies, her suspicions were confirmed. The blonde had a carefully trimmed strip of hair above her pussy. Her lips glistened wetly, and seemed more than a little puffy. She was definitely turned on. With her legs spread by the bar and held back by the other girl’s legs, Anya could see the moist pinkness between those lips. Anya had a quick vision of herself in that position, completely exposed for Xander to do anything he wanted to her. The thought was a very pleasant one, and she began to think that this might be worth it if she could get Xander to try some of these games with her. He was certainly very creative in setting up positions to bind someone in.
She glanced up to the girl’s legs, attached by the ankle both to her own spreader bar and the ankles of the dark-haired girl. She smirked when she realized both wore very high platform heels, although once again she could see no buckle or clasp securing the straps. The shoes seemed as if they’d just been formed on their feet, and the only way to get them off would be if they somehow vanished.
The girl’s legs were smooth and hairless, as were the other’s. Anya continued to move slowly around the table, and moved her examination to the other girl. Unlike the blonde, her pussy was completely hairless. Whether it was natural, a result of shaving, or of electrolysis, Anya couldn’t tell. A small heart tattoo rested above her pubis, adding a very pretty decoration, in Anya’s opinion.
Like the blonde, this girl was obviously aroused as well, her juices coating her pussy. Anya could smell the musk of arousal in the air now, and was surprised at how it was both similar to the smell of her and Xander when they made love, but also somehow unique. She wondered if everyone smelled a little different.
The dark haired girl didn’t whimper as much as the blonde, but she would grunt every so often. Sometimes her taut stomach would undulate in what Anya was sure was an unconscious plea for someone to get her off. She was almost tempted to reach out a hand and help the girl out, but decided that she should remain silent and unobtrusive for the moment.
Both girls were very fit, but the dark haired one had larger breasts, and a softer look to her. The blonde seemed skinnier, almost unhealthy. Both were definitely beautiful.
While the blonde’s skin was unmarked, the other had one more tattoo besides the one above her privates. A barbed wire tattoo wove its way around her bicep. Anya examined it closely, careful not to breathe on the girl, for fear of alerting her to her presence.
She wondered if she knew these girls. Something definitely seemed familiar about them. Unfortunately, the way the gag stretched their mouths combined with the thick blindfolds over their eyes made them pretty hard to place.
Anya took a few steps back, and crossed her arms, watching them for a few moments. The girls were mostly silent, save for whining, moaning, groaning, or grunting every so often. Occasionally one would try to pull her legs down to a more comfortable position, and the other would half-whine, half-moan and pull back.
Confusion remained the most prominent feeling, and Anya reflected on what all of this could mean. What were the possibilities?
The first was that Xander had done this, and persuaded these two girls, whomever they were, to be trussed up in such a way. Anya wasn’t sure if she was hoping for that possibility or not. She liked the idea of Xander expanding his horizons, but didn’t like the idea of him dealing with naked beauties without involving her. Anya would have gladly let him try out his bondage kinks on her.
She supposed there was the dim possibility that Xander had done this without the permission of the girls, but that was very unlikely. Xander had balked several times when she tried to persuade him into experimenting with more than just light bondage, and he was definitely not the type to do something to a girl without her permission. The very thought made her grimace, and feel a little guilty that she could even consider the possibility.
Of course, there was the option that Xander hadn’t done this. That someone or something had put these two girls there, whether with their consent or without it. Anya had seen far stranger things in her time, and so she couldn’t dismiss that possibility. But why would they have collars marking them as Xander’s property?
The more she thought about it, the more that seemed the likeliest possibility. After all, Xander had been with her all last night, and had spent the day before split into two Xanders. They’d been too busy dealing with that for him to set up something as extreme and uncharacteristic as this.
Which meant that this could very well be something Hellmouthy. Anya sighed silently, and quietly retreated back into her new bedroom to wake up Xander. Hopefully he’d have some idea what all of this meant.
Faith squeezed her eyes tightly shut beneath the blindfold she wore, and groaned as she attempted to relieve just a little of the heat that burned inside of her. She was far beyond the point of wondering just what the hell was going on. The first thing she was going to do when she was freed was frig herself to the fastest orgasm of all time. The second thing would be to kick the ass of whoever had done this.
Or possibly kiss them. It was hard to decide. Never in her life had Faith been so turned on. Bondage wasn’t something she was unfamiliar with, and while it had given her a little thrill, it now seemed like it was top on her list of kinks. She should be furious, humiliated and looking for revenge. It was just so hard to keep up those emotions when just thinking about her predicament made her moist with arousal.
Clearly whatever was happening was magical in nature, and that helped alleviate some of her worries about her own state of mind. Faith had been in her cell sleeping, having a fairly nice dream about that Jenny, one of the few girls she’d messed around with since going upstate, when suddenly she’s just somewhere else. One instant she’s in bed, and the next she’s naked but for the heels strapped to her feet and the various cuffs and straps that secured her down. Cuffs and straps that seemed strong enough to withstand the strength of the Slayer, which was pretty much impossible without magic, given how thin the metal was. It took heavy steel manacles to bind a Slayer. The stuff binding her didn’t feel nearly heavy enough to be able to hold her.
At least being the Slayer helped her not to feel the strain of her current position. She was flat on her back, obviously on some kind of platform, because her arms were cuffed beneath it, holding her tightly down. It had the effect of thrusting her shoulders back and her chest forward, and she knew her nipples must have been straining upward. She had to look way hot, and she was surprised at how the thought of it made her flush hotly.
But the arms underneath the platform weren’t what would have had a normal girl feeling the strain. No, it was the fact that her legs were spread apart by a bar and lifted up and over her head, bending her body in half and exposing her pussy to whoever her captor was. Her legs were held high above her, attached; it seemed, to the ankles of some other girl.
A girl that Faith was face to face with. She could smell her breath as they both breathed through their noses. Faith’s head was turned to one side, locked in a faux-kiss with the other girl. A long phallic gag filled Faith’s mouth, with straps surrounding her head. The penis gag, for that’s what she assumed it was, was likely connected to the other girl the same way. Their heads were connected in an upside-down kiss. The thought of it made Faith moan.
So yeah, she was definitely thinking magic was involved. Why else would she be burning with so much desire as a result of this treatment? Something very weird was going on.
That was another thing. She just felt odd. Different, somehow. Supercharged and more sexual than she’d ever been in her life. Brief fleeting images of things she’d never even thought of streaked in her mind. Things that had once only mildly interested her now seemed like the hottest things she’d ever thought of. She had this brief thought that she might be bound outdoors, in front of hundreds, even thousands of people. Anyone could be watching her at that moment, and the thought made her shiver with what had almost been a mentally induced orgasm.
The day before, the most Faith would do in public was a little dirty dancing, now she was filled with the desire to get fucked out in the open. She wanted to be taken in a back alley, she wanted to be taken in her back alley. She wanted to be spanked, to be whipped, to be licked and to lick. She wanted to…
Wanted to be on her knees and look up into loving eyes, and know she had found peace.
That was the thought that scared her the most. That was the thought that was the most alien. Not only did Faith not think of herself as the submissive type, but the idea of finding peace in anything was frightening. Peace was not something she deserved, and it wasn’t something she should be fantasizing about.
It just wouldn’t get out of her head, even as she burned with lust and the desire to be freed. The desire to belong, the desire to be cherished, the desire to please another, all of these things swirled within her.
Was that part of her captor’s plan, to instill in her mind these subservient fantasies, playing on her desire to rid herself of the tormenting memories that haunted her every day?
Part of her wondered if she should even fight it, if that was true. After all, didn’t she deserve to be punished?
That was the insidiousness of whatever was going on with her. At first, when she’d found herself suddenly trussed up like the Christmas turkey, she struggled to break free. Her grunts and muffled curses had mixed with those of the other girl — Faith was pretty sure she was a girl — as the two of them pulled and twisted in attempts to get loose. The awkwardness of their positions combined with the inability to gain any leverage without severely injuring the other made it pretty much impossible.
So after a while, Faith just stopped struggling. Now, maybe an hour later, maybe longer, she was actually thinking about deserving this, even enjoying it? Something was definitely wrong. Problem was, there was not a damned thing she could do about it until something changed. She was stuck, vulnerable, and despite her best wishes, more than a little aroused.
The other girl whimpered, but to Faith it didn’t sound like a whimper of despair. It sounded very much like the whimper Faith was trying very hard not to let loose herself. A whimper of confused pleasure, an almost pleading hope that something would just finally happen that would either end the suspense or at least let her get off.
For a few moments, Faith had thought something was about to happen. She had the distinct feeling of being watched, and thought she could hear someone else moving around. Nothing seemed to come of it. So she growled softly in frustration, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the forbidden thoughts and desires burning through her mind.
She would bide her time, and when she had her chance, whoever had done this to her was going to pay big.
And there was no way she was going to think about kneeling in front of some shadowy figure of love and trust. Never gonna happen.
Biding her time. That was all.
| Contents | Chapter 2 | |
| M. McGregor's Chapter 1, on Live Journal | ||