Rewards, by M. McGregor

Chapter 16

Life on the Hellmouth had a funny way of becoming weirder and weirder as time went on. Sprawled out on the couch in his boxers and old t-shirt, Xander stared upward, dwelling on the weirdness he was now knee-deep in.

The room was silent now, a far cry from the muffled whines and grunts of exertion that had filled it earlier. Xander was always just a little proud of himself when he and Anya would have a marathon session of intense lovemaking, and this time was no real exception. The giddy male part of his brain was happily thinking over how Faith had watched him do the deed for such a long time, a stark contrast to his first time. That had been ten minutes at best, and he was certainly nowhere near as adept at things as he was now.

It was an odd thought, but he was beginning to realize that he had a rapidly building confidence in his ability to have sex. Over a year of boundary pushing awesomeness with Anya had made him a fairly confident lover, especially where his formerly demonic girlfriend was concerned. He knew Anya’s body intimately, and could make their sessions last ten minutes or ten hours if he so desired. The ten hours was quite literal, as Anya had read a book on tantric sex that she insisted they become highly skilled at. They’d only gone that long once, and he’d been fairly sure he was going to die afterwards, but it was still a cool record to have in his head.

Now, however, it seemed like he was about to start shattering records left and right. The reward hadn’t just put him in the incredible and often frightening position of owning Buffy and Faith, it had also made him lucky, safe, and supposedly successful. What that would mean in the long run (and it sounded like the reward was a “long run”) he wasn’t entirely sure.

It seemed as if he was just feeling better. Healthier and more fit than he was before. His body didn’t quite ache from the hard labors of construction. He wasn’t completely exhausted after having sex with Anya for such a long time. He even noted with some giddiness that little Xander was still ready and raring to go, despite the overabundance of sex he’d experienced in the last few days.

Luck. What did luck even mean? Especially when you lived on the Hellmouth? Bad stuff happened all the time on the Hellmouth, thanks to the bad luck vibes it sent out. Evil magic, evil curses, evil relics and just plain evil was out there all the time waiting for someone to pounce on.

Now he had good luck, supposedly. What if that worked the same way? In his lifetime on the Hellmouth in the bad-luck sphere, he’d been exposed to several powerful but negative magical spells, possessions, demons, curses, and miscellaneous horror.

Did that mean that he’d be experiencing the opposite of that? The possibility of it certainly seemed there. Was his apparent ultra-healthiness a part of the reward itself, or was it a side effect of his new luck? If he had this luck for the rest of his life, what might that eventually mean for him?

He thought back to all the terrible things he’d seen, experienced, and been through in the last several years. How many could be attributed to the bad luck of the Hellmouth? If even a tenth of them could be, what could it mean if those incidences were good? What if instead of being cursed with syphilis from some angry American Indian spirit, he was blessed with something good from some happy bouncy fun-time American Indian spirit? What if instead of getting split in two by an evil demon, he was… something good from… someone else?

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t sure what might happen, but the possibility seemed real. Unless he was just reading into things. What if he was just supercharged because of all the adrenaline that had been pumping through his system in the last few days?

After all, he had the troubled-yet-gorgeous Faith sleeping exhaustedly (and nakedly) in his bed, curled up beside his equally exhausted (and equally naked) girlfriend. He was relaxing in his nice new apartment after having had mind-blowing sex with Anya in front of the naked and squirming Faith, and now he was waiting for Buffy to come by after patrol, where she’d likely be begging him to play with her breasts and do all sorts of other things to her.

Why shouldn’t he be feeling better than normal, even with that nagging seed of doubt that was slowly shrinking? Why shouldn’t he feel strong and healthy, without an ache in his body? Why shouldn’t his dick be rock hard and looking for more action? He was a young man. A young man who lived a hard life, but still a young man. He was just barely twenty, why shouldn’t he be able to work construction all week, fuck his girlfriend for hours at a time, and not feel tired?

Because he’d never done it before, and now he had.

Whatever it meant, he supposed it wasn’t something to worry about. Still, he’d bring it up to Giles the next time he saw him, along with what he’d found out about his control over the girls.

The hugging thing with Faith had seemed to work out. Twice since he’d given her the command she’d hummed the three-note little tune that meant she was hoping to be touched affectionately. Each time she seemed not to know she was doing it, and seemed genuinely surprised as well as genuinely pleased when he or Anya had hugged her. It seemed that Faith didn’t remembering him giving the order, which of course is what he’d ordered her to do.

That definitely got the adrenaline pumping. That kind of control was scary, and he still felt like he was going to mess all of this up terribly. Still, he had to trust in their trust, trust in the order he’d given to both that things ended if they weren’t happy, and above all, have faith the way Buffy had explained to him. He’d just have to keep that fear somewhere in the back of his head, and use it to make sure he never went too far.

Heck, maybe he could even trust that his new luck would keep him from screwing things up too badly.

Sighing, Xander put his hands behind his head and laced his fingers together. He closed his eyes, and thought about the next thing that presented the best opportunity for him to screw up. Buffy was going to have to tell her mom something, and he had no idea what that was going to be.

At first, he’d thought maybe they could just not tell her. Or at the very least, tell her that Buffy was involved with Xander and moving in, but nothing beyond that. As he thought about it, he realized that wasn’t such a good idea. It wouldn’t be too hard to realize that Anya was still living with Xander, and with Faith there too, he was just asking for trouble.

He thought about telling Joyce that Buffy was going to be in a “normal” four-person relationship with them. It was crazy, but it was better than telling her that Buffy was going to be a bondage sex slave. Joyce had accepted Willow’s lesbianityness without much trouble. Maybe she’d only kill him a little bit if they just told her they were all of them in a relationship.

Except the chances were that Buffy would probably end up revealing some kind of hint what with all the bondage stuff that would randomly affect her. What if her nipple rings appeared in the middle of family dinner? What if her collar did?

Would that happen? He was supposed to be lucky. Would that keep Joyce from finding out, or was he putting too much faith into it? After all, even if he was 99% lucky, that 1% would eventually catch up to him, and Joyce could find out.

That left him with the option of telling Joyce outright. About the reward, about the magic, about the luck and about… about the sex. Maybe it would be better for her to know, even if she didn’t like it. It wasn’t like there was much she could do about it anyway.

Other than put a bullet through his brain, but that seemed unlikely, not to mention dangerous for Buffy herself.

Maybe that was the best way to explain it. This was just the way things were, and there wasn’t anything they could do about it. They could either try to be happy with it, or drive themselves crazy. So really, the question he had to ask was whether it was worth the risk of Joyce finding out on her own to not tell her, or whether he should just lay it all out on the table and let the chips fall where they would.

That was when he realized he was thinking of it as entirely his decision. Not Buffy’s. His. He wasn’t sure if that was progress or not, but he had the distinct feeling that Buffy would be very happy to hear it. For a moment, he was almost envious of her. She wouldn’t have to make this decision. He already knew that if he asked, she would look to him to make it for her. Buffy had already jumped headfirst into her new role.

It occured to him that there was something of a price to pay for having two hot and horny slavegirls at his beck and call. They were his responsibility, and he was already barely responsible enough for himself.

He smirked up at the ceiling.

“With great power comes great responsibility,” he sighed and shook his head. “Will comic books ever cease to amaze me with their profound wisdom?”

The soft and timid knocking made him turn his head, and Xander rolled off the couch. He scratched his stomach as he went to the door and looked through the peephole. Buffy’s distorted image grew large and small as she rocked back and forth hugging herself. He smiled at the cute way she chewed on the corner of her lip as he unlocked the door.

Buffy’s eyes went wide when he threw the door open, and she gave the slightest little gasp at the sight of him. Her eyes took in the entire sight of him, and then quickly looked down.

“H-hi,” she stammered.

“Hey,” he replied, smiling. “I think I’m going to have to get you a key.”

“What?”

“For the door.”

“Oh. Because I’m… I’m…”

“Probably going to be staying,” he said, nodding. He noted with some amusement that she closed her eyes and hummed softly. He stood away from the door, and Buffy hesitated only a moment before coming inside.

As soon as he swung the door closed, Buffy gasped and her knees buckled. Xander was momentarily blinded by the flash of light, and when he could see again Buffy was nude save for her collar, the cuffs that held her arms behind her back, and the shiny golden rings that had pierced through her nipples.

“Oh!” she cried, surprising Xander with how loud it was.

“Whoa!” he whispered loudly as he dropped down to the floor beside her. She was on her knees, chest heaving and hips rolling. He put a hand over her mouth as she went to moan again, and felt the tickling vibration as she did so against his palm. It was late, and while he was pretty sure the soundproofing was enough to keep the neighbors from complaining, he didn’t want Anya and Faith to wake up.

For a few moments he held her, one hand over her mouth as he wrapped his arm around her middle. Buffy twisted against him, rolling her body into him as she moaned and panted. Finally, after several moments, she seemed to calm. She relaxed against him, held tightly in his grip, and his eyes widened when he felt her tongue tickle against his palm.

His first reflex was to pull his hand away, but he fought it, and kept it there. Hugging her from behind, he brought his mouth to her ear.

“Think you can be quiet now?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Ahn and Faith are sleeping,” he told her. “Don’t want to wake them.”

“Hmm.”

Slowly, he brought his hand away from her mouth, ignoring the wet feeling of her lips against his palm. Lowering his hand, he put his other arm around her waist, hugging her from behind. She pressed back against him, whimpering quietly.

“Xander,” she breathed. “They’re back. Oh God.”

“Told you they would be.”

“I want to touch them. Please let me touch them?”

For a moment he was going to tell her she could, but two thoughts crossed his mind. The first was that he needed to exercise his control; otherwise the magic might work with even more random chaos. The second was that Buffy, despite her pleas, would likely be even happier if he denied her.

“I told you,” he said, letting his hands roam up her front. She arched her back as he gently cupped her breasts in his palms. “Me, Anya, or Faith. I think you’ve played with them enough lately.”

“Xander,” she whimpered, attempting to push against his hands. “Harder.”

This time he obliged, and squeezed hard, his fingers pressing into the firm globes. Buffy bit her lip as she whined, tensing in his grip. After a moment, he relaxed, and she sagged down against him.

“How was patrol?” he asked when Buffy’s panting died down.

“Incredible.”

“Really?”

Her soft hair tickled his nose as she nodded her head. “Yeah. I was in the zone the entire time. Didn’t get a single scratch. Giles said he’s never seen me so committed.”

“Good. Don’t want you getting distracted out there.”

He indulged himself for a while, feeling her body with gentle touches and the occassional instinctual grope. That he was actually allowed and even encouraged to do such a thing was slowly sinking in for him. If he wanted to touch Buffy’s breasts, then all he had to do was reach out and do it. He had total access to the girl that had topped his fantasy list for the last five years.

Even more mind blowing was Buffy’s reaction. For as long as he’d known her, Buffy was very shy about sex, and had rarely ever even made jokes about it. He’d apparently built up a perception of her as somehow above sex. Buffy Summers couldn’t possibly make little whimpering sounds when you pinched lightly at her nipples. Buffy Summers didn’t moan and writhe her nude body, panting her need for further exploration. Buffy Summers just wasn’t like that. Not in his head.

Meshing that imaginary person with the reality was both fascinating and, in some small way, just a little disappointing. As much as the idea of Buffy being extremely sexual with him, there was that tiny piece of him that wished she could have remained on the pedestal, above such things.

That feeling was a minute one, however, and overwhelmed by his reality. It wasn’t difficult to accept Buffy both as the amazing person he so admired and as the squirming bundle of pent up sexuality that she now presented. That was especially true because he could somehow see that part of Buffy throughout all of this. The part of her that he admired was the part that could somehow remain strong and aggressive even when she was attempting to be as subservient and submissive as possible. She fascinated him.

It was like a beautiful secret. She really was his treasure.

A treasure that was hoping for and maybe even expecting something from him. He could do it, both because she wanted it and because some part of him thought maybe he could want it too. There was something almost protective in the nature of their new relationship. Buffy and Faith were his girls, quite literally. It was his privilege to use them, but it was his duty to keep them safe. He’d always felt protective of Buffy and the others before, but now he felt more justified in feeling it. It was nice.

So he didn’t ask before scooping Buffy up in his arms. He didn’t ask when he gave an appreciative look at her nude body, eyes lingering on the stiff nipples and glittering golden rings that were pierced through them. She was light, and easy to hold. Dimly he wondered if she seemed even lighter than she would have before the reward.

He carried her into the bedroom, careful to remain quiet. In the near total darkness he could make out Anya resting with her head on Faith’s chest, with their legs tangled together beneath the sheets. Taking a moment to marvel at the sight, he glanced at Buffy and saw that she was just as transfixed as he was. Both girls slept soundly and with peaceful expressions on their faces.

It would be crowded, but Xander didn’t care. He lowered Buffy down onto the bed beside Anya. Slowly, Buffy stretched her legs and relaxed, her fit stomach tensing slightly as she felt Xander looking at her nudity. Xander smiled at her and pulled off his shirt before sliding into bed beside her.

There wasn’t much room, and he was forced to press up against her. Buffy seemed not to mind, and quickly rolled over onto her side. Whether it was so he would have more room or because she wanted to face him, he wasn’t sure. He reached out and stroked her hair gently as he looked into her eyes.

“Xander,” she whispered.

Unable to help himself, he kissed her lips, and did his best to enjoy it thoroughly. When they broke apart, she was breathless, and he was seriously questioning his decision to sleep. Eager eyes stared back at him, and Buffy licked her lips.

“It’s late,” he said as quietly as he could manage. “Go to sleep, Buffy.”

Her eyes slid closed at once, and she sagged in relaxation. Xander blinked in mild surprise, then sighed, and kissed her once more. There was only the slightest hint of a response. With just a few words, she was sound asleep.

“Have some incredible dreams,” he whispered. A wide smile slowly spread across her face.

He stared at it until he fell asleep.

It was such an odd sensation. She’d been alert and excited, absolutely sure she would be unable to get any sleep at all. Her body seemed hell-bent (which was oddly close to the truth) in keeping her constantly keyed up and craving anything that could be considered sexual. Buffy was sure it would have been completely overwhelming were it not for the orders Xander had already given her.

Just being near him could be torturous. Her mind was constantly coming up with ideas and scenarios whenever he was nearby, and often when he wasn’t. So much of her just wanted to drop to her knees and beg him to use her. She’d been trying to convince him to do that for days, and now that the possibility existed, she found herself hesitating.

What if it wasn’t the way she thought it would be? What if Xander couldn’t be the person she craved? What if he kept looking at her with that sad, apologetic look in his eyes? How could she ever give herself fully if he was constantly second-guessing himself?

Oh, he’d said he wouldn’t. He’d given her orders that would ensure she was never pushed too far. He’d told her he wouldn’t ask if she was okay anymore, and that he’d try to be the master that events had forced him to be.

But that was just it, wasn’t it? He was forced into it. This was never Xander’s desire. Buffy had always harbored those darker lusts, buried deep within her. She’d had those dreams; she’d denied those feelings for years. Now they had exploded out from her, amplified and joined by desires borne from Faith and whatever magic Gimmel possessed.

Xander had never craved those things. He’d wanted, loved, and desired her, but never as anything less than an equal, and maybe even as someone as more than an equal. Xander was, she knew, a person who was drawn to strong, challenging personalities. What did he think when he saw her on her knees, staring up at him as she licked his shaft clean of their combined juices?

These were the thoughts burning through her mind and body as she lay in Xander’s bed. These were the things that worried her, tortured her, and excited her. Even as she wondered if Xander truly enjoyed it, she could not help but be deeply aroused by the memory.

Staring up at him, such a strong and masculine figure. He was more muscular than she’d ever realized, likely a result of the hard labor of construction work. His hands had been strong as he gripped her head, and she nearly came just at the impulsive touch. It was so incredible to be owned, to submit herself to another and be carried away by their will.

She’d been able to feel Anya’s soft form pressing up against her. The feel of her excited Buffy even more, and she was sure she’d been panting in tiny breaths as Xander looked down at her on the bed. She would never be able to sleep, sandwiched between them both.

Then he’d slipped into bed, and she was staring at him. He was mostly nude, save for his boxers, and the proximity had her unable to speak. Maybe this was part of being his slave. Maybe the torture of being so close to their bodies without any satisfaction was part of the beautiful torment she craved.

Xander’s mouth opened. His eyes locked on hers. She held her breath in anticipation. He spoke.

Just like that, it was morning.

Buffy blinked sleepily, a slight frown of confusion furrowing onto her brow. Distantly, she could feel the memory of her dreams — dreams of dark lust and deep satisfaction — fading away. Snippets teased at her, a flash of skin, a breathy groan, and then it was gone. She was left with nothing but the dim feeling of the surreal and satisfying.

It took her a few moments to realize she’d fallen asleep, and a few more to realize she’d done so at Xander’s order. She pressed her legs together, luxuriating in the thought.

She was lying next to him, her breasts against his chest and her head beneath his chin. He was so real that it hurt her, and Buffy snuggled up beside him as best she could, trying to touch as much as she could of the man who was her friend and master. It was such a strange thought, one tinged with sadness but full of excitement. They were different, as much as Xander wished otherwise. How much of their old relationship could survive was still in question. Could they still be Xander and Buffy when she so deeply wanted to be Master and Slave?

That was when she became aware of the other touch. Soft and distinctly feminine, Buffy had to stifle a whimper just thinking about it. She was the slavegirl, sandwiched between her two owners. Xander’s hard and comforting form on one side, Anya’s soft and graceful form on the other. She could feel smooth legs spooning against hers, and could feel full breasts against her back. The soft heat of Anya’s breath tickled the back of her neck, and she could feel a slender arm around her middle, holding her close.

Buffy closed her eyes, and reveled in the feel. She imagined the curving form of Anya, the round of her breast and the long length of her legs. A week ago, such an image would probably not have excited her. Now, it had her inner thighs slick with her own moisture.

She remembered Anya’s mouth on her pussy, and the incredible feelings that had come from that. Anya’s tongue had squirmed inside her. Another girl, another beautiful, sensuous, graceful girl had stuck her tongue into her hot cunt and made her scream in orgasm.

When Willow came out as a lesbian the year before, Buffy had given some thought to what it must be like for her. She’d looked inside herself and wondered where such a desire could come from. She’d been careful not to look too deep. If she delved too far into her own desires, she would have been forced to admit the dark things she craved: the pain, the control, the thrill of embarrassment and the shame of being on display.

As she thought of it now, Willow’s orientation seemed so much more exciting. It was bright and incredible, a whole world to explore.

The interesting thing, if she was capable of recognizing something so clinical while being so turned on, was that she didn’t feel an attraction for women the way she was sure Willow or even Faith did. Her attraction to them seemed to have come from nowhere, but was quickly tying itself to the things she’d always had such a secret craving for.

Being with a girl was forbidden. A taboo that Buffy, despite her fairly liberal upbringing, still saw as somehow naughty. Women weren’t supposed to be objects of lust, not for her, and the fact that they aroused her so deeply made her burn with a kind of embarrassment. Buffy never had trouble accepting Willow’s orientation, but there had always been a part of her that was slightly uncomfortable about the subject.

Now that discomfort was being channeled in a new way. She was changing. She was becoming something new. A slavegirl. A slut. A girl so easily excited and aroused that the idea of sex with another girl could make her shiver with lust. She wasn’t going to be the Buffy she had always been: bland and sexually unadventurous. She was awakening a new part of herself, and was already so far beyond who she’d been that it could be frightening.

Buffy squirmed slightly between Anya and Xander, enjoying the heat of their bodies and the feel of their skin against hers. Anya gave the softest (and cutest) little whimper and hugged her tighter, while Xander mumbled something in his sleep and rested his cheek against the top of Buffy’s head. She smiled and took a deep breath, luxuriating in the sensations.

Maybe she could talk to Willow about girls sometime. They could sit in the eatery after classes and Buffy could tell her how she got so hot at seeing a pair of breasts straining against a tight shirt. Willow could tell her how she loved staring at long legs, or how wonderful it was to kiss a pair of luscious red lips. Maybe Willow would look at her, look down her body, no doubt dressed in some daring outfit thanks to the magic. Willow would lick her lips, and Buffy would look down shyly, burning with an inner fire.

Then Xander would be there, putting his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it possessively. Willow would look up into his eyes, and ask if she could play with his toy. Xander would smile, lean down, put his mouth to Buffy’s ear, and say, “Yes.” Then she would be the lesbian plaything for Willow and Tara, a straight girl who had been transformed by dark magic to do their bidding.

She squeezed her legs together as tightly as she could and ground the curve of her ass against Anya’s body. The other girl hummed appreciatively, and Buffy, unable to help herself, kissed lightly at the top of Xander’s chest. She breathed him in, drinking his scent as best she could. The slender arm around her middle tightened, and she felt the fingers fan out, spreading down her belly. They slid slowly down, past the sparse hair above her pussy, and cupped her gently. Buffy bit her lip and closed her eyes before letting out a little moan.

After a few minutes of remaining as still as she could with her mind racing through various fantasies, Buffy finally made up her mind. She licked her lips and rolled over to come face to face with Anya, so she might kiss those lips and indulge the mysterious new part of her that so desired the female form.

In one quick motion she was turned around, and softly pressed her lips against the stunningly swollen and red lips of her bedmate. Closing her eyes, she moaned quietly, even as her tongue lightly licked at the other girl’s lips. Behind her, she could feel Xander’s hardness pressing against her bottom, though he continued to snore.

She let the kiss linger for some time before she let her eyes slide open. There, where Anya should have been, where Anya had definitely been the night before, was Faith.

She was kissing Faith. She had been loving kissing Faith. Faith’s arm was around her. Faith, who had stolen her life and violated her body was holding her with such gentle—

No!

Buffy pulled her head back, nearly slamming the back of it into Xander’s face. With a stunned swallow, she quickly scrambled down and out of bed, slipping between Xander and Faith. She was on her feet in less than a heartbeat, and touched her lips with a sick kind of surprise as she stared down at the sleeping couple.

Faith frowned in her sleep, and seemed to inch her way forward. Soon she was beside Xander, who easily took her into his arms in much the same position Buffy had been in moments earlier. Faith sighed, smiled, and in moments was breathing in the steady rhythm of sleep.

She thought she might be sick. Even worse, she was disgusted at herself for how harsh her reaction was to kissing Faith. They were supposed to be slaves together. Xander had warned her that she and Faith would be treated the same, that they were both part of this strange family. Buffy had known that. She’d known, even fearfully expected (hoped?) that she would be involved in all kinds of sex with Faith. The idea of having sex with the girl who was both so intriguing and so loathsome was a powerful image. It would symbolize Xander’s ultimate control over her, to get her to do what her body so craved but her mind so hated.

Why did she have to be so beautiful? And why did Buffy have to be so affected by that beauty now? Before, when Faith was first in Sunnydale, there had been that brief spark of attraction. She could recognize that, as well as the fear that had come along with it. That attraction had quickly turned to a full hatred as Faith spiraled out of control, and had been forever solidified when Faith stole her body, violating her in ways that there were not laws for.

She hated Faith. Had every right to hate Faith. No one should or could possibly expect her to feel otherwise.

But Faith was so sexy. Could even seem innocent, when she was snuggled up in Xander’s arms, holding him like a giant teddy bear. Her touch had been so erotic, so beautiful and sensuous. When Buffy thought it was Anya, she’d been close to cumming right on the spot. Now that she knew it was Faith she…

Trembled and bit her lip as a tremor of pleasure shocked through her. Shame turned to deep satisfaction as she realized how much she’d loved Faith touching her. At once, she shut her eyes, turning her head away from the image of the two dark-haired lovers. She was not about to let herself get worked up from staring at Faith.

Buffy had been forced to accept (with no small amount of satisfaction) that the female form was profoundly exciting to her thanks to her shared and enhanced desires. There was just no way she was going to give into that feeling where Faith was concerned.

A new thought came to her as she moved towards the door. Shouldn’t she embrace her attraction? Shouldn’t she be trying everything she could think of to be able to co-exist with Faith as a fellow slave? Wouldn’t a truly submissive slave be able to do that to better please her master?

She could almost imagine Xander smiling down at her, praising her for being so devoted that she would even accept Faith on a physical level. Couldn’t she do that? There was nothing that said she had to accept Faith emotionally. But physically?

Shaking her head, she banished the thought. That was her nearly uncontrollable arousal talking, not her. Her body wanted Faith as it seemed to want almost everyone thanks to Gimmel, and it was clouding her judgment. How could she maintain any kind of self-respect if she gave into her desires purely because she wanted Faith?

On the other hand, it would be undeniably satisfying. The thought of being so uncontrollably horny as to sleep with her worst enemy made her the most decadent kind of slut. She would be a wanton whore who cared more for hot sex than any kind of integrity. God, it made her wet just to think of it.

Slut, she thought as she stood at the door to the bedroom, fighting an inner battle between returning to bed and heading out to the living room. What would everyone think if they watched her drop to her knees to lick Faith’s pussy when they all knew how much she hated Faith? They’d know she was a trampy little whore who was made for sex. And she would love that they knew. It would make her burn with shame and tremble with lust.

Buffy stifled a groan, biting her lip as her own inner dirty-talk began to excite her further. She had to get out of there before she lost what shred of control she could still maintain.

Didn’t she?

Before she could change her mind, Buffy swung open the door and quickly retreated to the living room, closing the door quietly behind her. The moment it clicked shut, the now-familiar light flashed. She gasped as her body straightened, and the air was forced from her lungs. The black leather corset was strung around her waist, cinched devilishly tight. It took her a few short gasps to become comfortable with the restricted breathing, made all the worse thanks to her now raging sexual excitement.

Holding either side of the doorway to steady herself, Buffy licked her lips and took stock of her body. The corset was familiar, making her waist so small she half-suspected there was magic involved. Her breasts were pushed up in the cups of the corset, while the tiny glittering rings through her nipples poked through the material, offered like handles to anyone who wanted to grab them.

A tiny black thong was nestled between her ass cheeks, barely covering her moist pussy at all. On her feet she wore high platformed black heeled boots that came up to just below her knee. The boots were connected by a spreader bar, keeping her legs locked about two feet apart. If she wanted to walk, it would have to be with an exaggerated swiveling of her hips.

The thick metal collar was secured around her neck and while her arms were free for the moment, she wore similar metal cuffs around each wrist. For a moment she stood there, feeling the leather and metal materials that comprised her outfit, and breathing as heavily as the tight corset would allow.

Closing her eyes, Buffy did her best to stay calm. This entire situation was threatening to overwhelm her.

Suddenly she wished very much that Xander was awake. When he was with her, the thought of being a slave, the thought of exploring all of her desires seemed too alluring to pass up. Alone in the living area of his apartment, she had a harder time of it. The possibilities seemed both frightening and exciting.

She was having a crisis of faith; that very same faith she’d told Xander about. That faith was being tested by a different Faith, and Buffy was afraid of what the outcome could be.

She’d been so sure of herself in convincing Xander what she wanted. Even now, she shook slightly with the restrictive feeling of her gear, and wondered what it might be like when Xander woke up.

At the same time, there was that slight feeling of dread that hit her in the gut. She so desperately wanted to be able to give in to her feelings and show Xander and even Anya what having a slave could mean. She wanted to tell them how hot she was, and how much she desired to be used. She wanted to submit to their touches and their wills.

But she could never do that with Faith around. She could never lower her defenses around the other girl. She could never be comfortable there.

The perfect relaxation she’d felt when nestled between Faith and Xander put the lie to that thought. That was what scared her so much. If she wasn’t careful, she might go down the same road as Xander had. Buffy might find herself so excited by Faith’s body and Faith’s sexuality that she’d forget who the other girl was. She’d forget that Faith was dangerous, and she’d let herself relax completely.

And then, like so many other times, Faith would find a way to stab at the very heart of her.

She squeezed her eyes tightly closed in a mixture of anger, guilt, and worry, and she was surprised to feel a tear roll down her cheek. It was all so confusing, and every concern she had needed to be seen through the filter of the reward. Every thought had to be carefully analyzed so she could be sure they were her own, even as the notion that she might not have control over her own thoughts served to excite her further. She was helpless to the reward, and helpless to Xander.

Maybe that’s what she would have to do. Maybe the fear and worry about giving in didn’t need to be her decision. Maybe it couldn’t be her decision anymore. Xander was in charge of her now, and she’d done that as willingly as seemed possible.

Somehow, that didn’t seem to help. Sure, the idea of Xander exercising his control over her mind made her shiver with excitement, but it didn’t help her for the moment. After all the speeches she’d given Xander about wanting to be his, she was turning out to be terrible at it. She couldn’t even sleep in his bed when she knew Faith was in it. Truthfully, there was more than a small part of her that was angry with Xander and Anya for accepting Faith so quickly… even accepting her more than they had Buffy herself. They felt sorry for Faith.

Another tear traced down her face, and Buffy realized she was crying quietly. Covering her face with her hands, she slunk towards the couch and collapsed onto it. Why did everything have to be so confusing? She hadn’t been able to have a normal relationship, and now it seemed like she couldn’t even have an abnormal one. Somehow, she always found a way to mess it up.

She lay on the couch for some time, and must have fallen asleep. A gentle hand was touching her bare shoulder, and she felt her body sinking towards the weight that joined her on the couch. Blinking, Buffy opened her eyes, expecting to see Xander.

It was Anya touching her reassuringly, rubbing a gentle hand on her back. When Buffy looked up at her, Anya gave her a sad smile. For a moment, Buffy stared in mild surprise and confusion.

Anya had woken up early in order to collect and redeem what she called “discount certificates.” Apparently Xander had recently explained to her the concept of coupons, and she’d been so excited at the prospect of using them that she’d gotten up as soon as the Sunday paper had arrived. Several bags of groceries were scattered about the room as evidence of her successful trial run.

Buffy learned this as Anya quietly spoke to her, never ceasing her gentle rubbing of Buffy’s shoulder. Slowly the touch enticed Buffy to sit up, and before she knew it, Buffy was resting her head against Anya’s shoulder and getting her hair stroked while Anya talked. It almost surprised Buffy just how much she enjoyed it, and more importantly how much it calmed her down.

They, or more precisely, Anya talked for a while, although her voice was slightly hoarse. She claimed that her sex with Xander (and by proxy, Faith) the night before had been much more satisfying than she expected, and all her screaming and moaning had left her with a raspy voice.

“I guess he’s just really excited about you two joining our relationship,” Anya explained as she stroked her fingers down Buffy’s upper arm. “Usually he can’t regain his erections quite so fast.” She paused for a moment, and added thoughtfully. “I wonder if I should reward you since you were indirectly involved with Xander giving me so many orgasms last night.”

“Um…” Buffy began.

“No, I’ll decide. Part of my role is to make decisions in Xander’s absence.” Pursing her lips, she let her head drop back, relaxing against the couch. Buffy did her best to keep her breathing even, and wondered just what this all meant. Apparently, Anya was attempting to be nice in what felt like a very intimate girlfriend/boyfriend kind of way. It was surreal. “Why aren’t you in the bedroom?”

“I just… wasn’t sleepy,” Buffy lied.

“That wouldn’t matter. Shouldn’t you enjoy being with Xander even when he’s asleep?”

Buffy shrugged, not wanting to answer. Anya raised her head, and frowned at her.

“Is this one of those situations where I have to use my instincts to figure out why you’re all depressed?” Anya wondered, furrowing her brow. She sighed. “Fine. Why would you be out here crying?”

“I wasn’t crying,” said Buffy in a small voice. Anya raised an eyebrow at her.

“A good sex slave shouldn’t lie to one of her owners,” Anya recited. “Unless you were crying because you don’t want to be a sex slave, but we’ve been through that like a million times, so that can’t be it. Then again…” Frowning thoughtfully, she sat up straighter. “Sit up, Buffy.”

“What?”

“Sit up,” she said again, this time with more authority. Buffy blinked at her, and pressed her lips together as she sat up, part of her disappointed that she couldn’t relax against Anya anymore.

Pressing her knees together and placing her feet flat against the floor, Anya put her hand behind Buffy’s back.

“Bend over my lap,” she ordered. Her tone was forceful but she watched Buffy carefully, eyes fixed on her face.

“Over you—”

“Now, please.”

Buffy’s breathing quickened, and she surprised herself by finding the courage to lean forward. She stared at Anya’s legs. Those denim-covered appendages seemed suddenly so powerful. They were like a symbol. The image of her bent over Anya’s lap flashed into her mind, and she could see so clearly the way her butt would be on perfect display. Slowly, almost fluidly, Buffy draped herself over Anya’s lap.

“Good girl. Now I’m going to spank you for lying to me. Lying is very, very bad and undermines the trust necessary to engage in a successful master/slave relationship.” As she spoke, she gently caressed Buffy’s ass, barely covered by the thin strip of cloth that was her thong. Buffy could not respond. The situation was spiraling out of her control, and this time she couldn’t even claim it was Xander’s nearly limitless power over her that was doing it. She didn’t have to obey Anya.

She did it anyway, and that was what made it so exciting. She was panting in expectation, and her nipples throbbed painfully. If she could have worked up the courage, she would have asked Anya to touch the breasts that she was forbidden from touching until the end of the day. Instead, she bit her lip, kept her thighs pressed together as tightly as she could, and choked back the whimper that was trying to force its way out of her.

Anya’s hand slid between her legs, and Buffy gasped as it stroked against her mound. The slickness of it made her cheeks turn red with embarrassment. She closed her eyes and let her head droop.

“I’m supposed to make you come up with the number of spanks you deserve. If it’s not as high as the number I have in my head, I’ll add them together. If it’s the same or more, we’ll go with your number.”

The whimper did get loose then. A surprising amount of fear was building up in Buffy’s mind. This was yet another thing she couldn’t come back from. If she let this happen, it would always be. Anya would have always forced the Slayer over her lap and spanked her hot little ass for lying to her. That wasn’t the kind of thing you could ever forget.

If she let this happen, it was another step she was taking irrevocably towards altering her relationships with the people around her. If she let this happen, it would mean she really was a slutty little sex slave who couldn’t say no to a beautiful woman like Anya.

Let it happen? It was already happening. Before she could second guess herself, she plunged headlong over the cliff.

“T-twenty?” she whispered, barely able to keep from shaking with fear, anticipation, and so much arousal she thought she might cum on the spot. On Anya’s lap. A girl’s lap; a girl whose hand was gently exploring Buffy’s backside, stroking and probing in places that were private. Places that used to be private.

“Okay, twenty it is,” Anya said, and Buffy could hear the approving smile in her voice. “I was only going to say ten. Just for that, I’ll make sure to give you an orgasm when we’re done.”

“Thank you,” Buffy found herself replying.

“Now you have to count each one, and if you miss then I’ll keep going until you get to twenty. And you should say thank you after each one, because that will remind you that I’m doing this because I’m a caring owner who’s only trying to make sure our relationship is based on trust and mutual admiration. Understand, sweetie?”

Buffy was pretty sure the pet name was calculated, probably read in some guide to being a sex-slave owner that Anya had read who-knew-where. Whether a natural term or not, it made her tremble. Nodding slowly, she responded, “Y-yes, Anya.”

“Good,” Anya said brightly. “Although maybe you should call me ma’am or Mistress like you call Xander sir.”

She groaned pleasurably, and it lengthened into a shivering squeal as Anya slid a finger into her, pressing gently inside her.

“Yes… Mistress.” The words felt a little silly, but also undeniably sexy. At that moment, she was a lesbian sex slave about to be punished by her mistress for being naughty. Wiggling her ass unconsciously, Buffy plunged deeper into the fantasy and added in a hot whisper, “Please punish me for being naughty.”

“Oh, right, I was supposed to make you ask to— Well you just did, so that’s good. You didn’t read up on this too, did you?”

“No, Mistress.”

Anya shrugged, and patted Buffy’s left cheek gently. “Oh. Well you’re doing very well. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Buffy squeaked after a moment’s hesitation. “I mean, um, yes ma’am.”

“Good. Okay, here goes.”

At first there was just the gentle feeling of Anya’s hand rubbing against her asscheeks. Buffy held her breath in anticipation; unsure of when the first strike would come. It seemed to take forever.

Then, in an instant, the surprisingly loud smack echoed throughout the room, and Buffy felt herself pushed slightly forward. A gentle stinging sensation seemed to echo into her, and she gasped out loud. It barely hurt, what with Slayer constitution, but the emotional shock of it more than made up for the lack of pain.

Smack! She gasped again, and this time the miniscule amount of pain seemed to double from before. She let out a tiny yelp, more out of surprise than anything else. It was just too overwhelming, and she couldn’t help herself. She was being spa—

Smack!

“Oh!” her voice sounded high-pitched and somehow small. Her cheeks felt hot, and Anya’s hand against them seemed to burn as she paused between strikes. Buffy rolled her hips, moaning softly, and Anya cleared her throat.

Smack! Another tiny cry escaped her lips.

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

Buffy’s head rolled and she grit her teeth as the feel of Anya’s hand striking against her round ass jolted through her. The mild pain was growing increasingly more powerful, but she wasn’t sure if that was in her mind or if it was really growing so intense. Each hit seemed to increase the sensitivity of her buttocks, and soon she was completely unable to stay quiet. She cried out with every hit, and ground her bottom back against Anya’s hand whenever she could. Her pussy burned with arousal, and she was sure she was soaking Anya’s jeans. The next hit was coming, and she arched her back slightly and raised her ass, causing the hit to reverberate through her pussy. It stung powerfully, and she stiffened.

“Oh, Anya!” she cried, grunting loudly as her body shook with her orgasm. All the while, Anya’s hand maintained its steady rhythm, stinging powerfully with each slap, and adding to the intensity of her orgasm.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Buffy wasn’t sure how long she writhed and whimpered against Anya as her senses returned to her. It took her some time to become aware that Anya didn’t seem to be stopping in her strikes. Buffy’s ass felt red and raw, burning with intense heat. Every strike made her gasp loudly, and the pain was reaching a delicious intensity.

That was when she realized she hadn’t been counting. The next strike came.

“Ah! One! T-thank you, Mistress.”

“Finally,” she could hear Anya mutter quietly. “My arm’s about to fall off.”

With each successive hit, Buffy would gasp or cry out, recite the number, and breathe her thanks as Anya’s hand reared back again. The tingling in her pussy began to grow anew as she counted. Each time she thanked Anya, she had to struggle not to groan. It was so demeaning; so perfectly submissive. It was impossible to doubt what she wanted in that moment.

As the count went up, her thanks became more and more bold, going deeper and deeper into her fantasy.

“Nine! Thank you, Mistress, for punishing me!”

“Thirteen! Thank you, Mistress Anya, for spanking your slave!”

“Eighteen! Thank you, Mistress, for caring so much about your naughty slave!”

By the time it was over, she was thanking Anya in a mumbling stream of dialogue, calling herself the filthiest things she could think of while undulating against Anya. Her ass burned painfully, but the sting of it only served to make her crave more.

They remained that way for a while, with Anya rubbing her abused backside soothingly as Buffy whimpered and moaned in pain, pleasure, and lust. She lay limply across Anya’s lap, and enjoyed the way Anya stroked her hair with her other hand.

Finally, Anya gestured at her to sit up again. She did so, wincing slightly. Somehow, despite her Slayer powers, her bottom was extremely sore. That the spanking actually hurt was slightly frightening but also very exciting. Buffy panted in sexual exhaustion, and her entire body felt supercharged and sensitive. What had she just done?

Another girl had just spanked her. She’d been placed over her lap and had her ass swatted until she’d learned her lesson. Just thinking about it seemed to make the throbbing heat of her abused ass increase. It was a struggle not to squirm in her seat.

“So you’re definitely not upset about being a slave,” Anya said with all the tone of a scientist performing an experiment. Cocking her head to one side, she added thoughtfully, “Would you like me to call you those things whenever we’re having sex?”

“What?” Buffy asked, breathlessly. It was hard for her to follow Anya’s words. The shock of what had just happened was still catching up to her.

“You know, whore and slut and things like that. I used to call Xander names during sex, but they were always things like stud or something like that. He never really got into it, but I can see that you like them.”

Buffy tried to remember what she’d said. She’d referred to herself as a slave a few times, that much she remembered. But by the time she’d managed to count to twenty she was so far gone that she couldn’t remember what she’d said. Considering the things she’d said the last time she lost control when using her vibrator, she couldn’t imagine she was any tamer this time around. Dozens of dirty words and names flooded through her mind, and she wondered which of them she’d said.

Then she stopped wondering which she’d said, and started imagining being called those names. She imagined Anya taunting her; imagined Xander whispering them hotly in her ear. She imagined being on her knees, and staring up at dark eyes. She imagined ruby red lips turning into a sinister sneer. She imagined those lips turning to kiss Xander’s, and then having the eyes looking down at her. She could almost feel the weight of the thick chain connected from her collar to the owner of those eyes.

She could imagine Faith sneering down at her, and hearing those words spill from her lips, each said with more heartfelt meaning than she could ever imagine coming from Xander or even Anya. It was a powerful image, and before she knew it, Buffy was whimpering with her eyes closed, with both hands plunging between her legs.

“I think that’s a yes,” Anya remarked, raising an eyebrow. She watched Buffy for a few moments with one eyebrow raised. After some time, Buffy seemed to remember where she was, and opened one eye. She blushed red, and tore her hands away. Realizing what fantasy had made her lose control, she felt a cold weight in the pit of her stomach.

It was happening. She was already starting to fantasize about losing control around Faith, and it was just as powerful as those fantasies of being Xander’s to control. How long before she gave into them? Worse, was she even sure she didn’t want to?

“Now that you’ve been properly reprimanded, will you tell me why you were crying?” Anya put her hands on Buffy’s bare thighs in a friendly gesture, and looked her in the eyes. “It would be really nice if you did, because as much as I enjoy our spanking game, my arm is really tired. Although I guess I could wake up Faith and have her do it for me, since she has the Slayer stamina. But she was up real la…” Frowning, she trailed off into silence, and furrowed her brow at Buffy. “Faith? Is that why you were crying?”

Buffy almost said no, but there was something oddly caring in Anya’s eyes. Was this how she looked at Xander? Was this the secret part of the former demon that Xander cared about so much?

Looking up, Buffy took a deep breath as she slowly nodded.

To her never-ending shock, Anya made a sad, almost pouting kind of face, and enveloped her in a big hug. She made slightly-rehearsed sounding shushing noises, and stroked Buffy’s hair gently.

“There there. Now that you told me the truth, we can have an important relationship talk until you feel better. Remember, I’m your owner-by-proxy, so if Xander’s ever unavailable to talk to, you can talk to me. It’s our job to be responsible for you, so if you’re feeling sad you can tell us and we’ll make you feel better.” Anya squeezed her gently and added, “Okay, little slut?”

Buffy almost laughed, so calculated was Anya’s use of dirty talk. She snorted a giggle into Anya’s shoulder.

“Is that one not good?” Anya asked with real worry. “Would dirty slut be better? Or maybe I should go with something outside the slut area?”

Feeling decidedly weird, Buffy replied, “N-no, uh, that’s fine. Good, even. It’s just, um, weird, that’s all.”

“Good!” Anya chirped, and placed a quick kiss on Buffy’s lips. Smiling happily, she ran her hands down Buffy’s arms and then looked at her expectantly. “Okay then. I’m ready to hear your problems and attempt to solve them. Hopefully with sex, but possibly with reassuring praise and/or food. That always works with Xander.” She patted Buffy’s lap. “So?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Buffy said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Is it a boring story?”

“Um, I guess not.”

“Then go ahead.”

Buffy pursed her lips, and studied Anya’s expectant face. That strange sense of concern was still there, and she could feel it growing stronger by the moment. It was so odd to think that Anya was making some kind of confused effort to be a comfort to her. Was Buffy making some kind of subconscious effort to find the reason why Xander seemed to love her so much? Or was Anya more than the calculated persona that seemed unable to genuinely empathize with anyone? Could she really treat Anya like a trusted lover?

Buffy had pushed Xander into accepting the reward from almost the first moment. Part of accepting that, part of embracing her place as a lover and slave meant that she had to integrate into Xander’s relationship with Anya. It meant that yes; she needed to treat Anya very similarly to how she would treat Xander. It meant she had to trust not only Xander, but also the woman he loved.

But, whispered a tiny voice in her mind. What if he loves Faith too?

When it came down to it, the question was one of trust. She knew she trusted Xander, and she was terrified of trusting Faith. Now she had to decide if she wanted to trust Anya, or if she even could in the first place. Anya was an enigma to her.

Anya was an enigma, but one who’d fed into Buffy’s fantasies so easily that she was still slightly shocked at how fast it had all happened. She wanted to trust Anya, because trusting her meant she was taking her place in what was a strange new relationship. Anya was, in a way, her girlfriend. If she wanted to embrace her new lifestyle, embracing Anya was a big part of that.

So too was embracing Faith. That was the problem, and that was what she spent most of the morning telling to her girlfriend, owner, mistress, and lover: Anya.