Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No profit is gained from my writerly endeavors and no copyright infringement is intended.
Here’s a bit of a recap just to place you in the ep before the story begins…
He raises his head and looks at her neck.
Spike: Mmm. That smell... Your neck...
He leans in to take a better whiff and then leans back, now in his game face.
Spike: I haven't had a woman in weeks.
Willow looks at him and jumps up in fright.
Willow: Whoa! No! Hold it!
Spike: Well, unless you count that shopkeeper. (stands up)
Willow: (panting with fright) Now, now, hold on! I-I'll do your spell for you, and, and, and I'll get you Drusilla back, but, but there will be no bottle-in-face, and there will be no 'having' of any kind with me. Alright?
He grabs her by the neck and bends her over, but makes no move to bite her. Instead he reverts to his human guise.
“Don’t think so, luv. You don’t get to call the shots here,” he growled and shoved her down onto the bed to straddle her waist, his hands sliding up her arms to pin them over her head. “So untried…” he murmured, sniffing at her hair and nuzzling her neck as she lay under him, paralyzed with fear and staring up at him with wide anxious eyes.
“Spike, no. Get-get off of me,” she stammered, pushing up against him with her torso so that her breasts crushed against the thin material of his shirt. Her frantic jerks pressed the material of her camisole and pink angora sweater against her nipples and stimulated them to hard peaks. Though she didn’t realize this, Spike certainly did.
“Ooooh, what’s this, Red? Not feeling a little cold in here is it?” He taunted her, rubbing his chest along hers slowly. Willow jerked under him again and tried to roll away, but Spike snatched the shattered bottle off the floor and thrust it against her throat.
“Thought you weren’t gonna try anything stupid, Willow?” He growled menacingly at her, the sharp points of the bottle scraping the pale skin of her neck.
“Oh God! No, please, no. I-I-prr-promise.”
“I’ll be good! I’ll…do whatever…just, don’t,” she mewled when a few strands of blood trickled down the hollow of her throat, disappearing down her shirt between her breasts. Spike watched the tantalizing descent of her blood with a growing hunger and licked his lips.
“Good thing. Got plans for you, honey.”
Spike hauled her up by both wrists to stand and dragged her behind him as he reached into a burned dresser and brought out a long twine of industrial strength rope. Some of the twine was frayed and rough where the cords split and burned.
“What are you going to do?” Willow squeaked, backing away from Spike as far as she could, her arms outstretched in front of her as he held her tight in his iron grip.
Spike turned to her, a wicked smirk on his lips, as he stalked forward and in a flash had jerked her in front of him with her back pressed tight against his chest.
“Oh, all sorts, Red. No rush to do this little spell. Have all this time to occupy ourselves, seems a waste to throw all your inexperience and girlish fancies by the wayside. Don’t you?”
He gripped her waist with one hand and pressed his denim clad erection roughly against her ass, swiveling his hips so that the bulge was settled between her butt cheeks. He bent close to the nape of her neck and inhaled deeply. “Wolfie ever put his parts in naughty places? Seems you like a little monster in your man.”
“What!?” Willow cried, trying to push away from him, indignant surprise in her voice.
“Hmm, hm,” Spike chuckled, “Got a nose like a bloodhound, Red. Can smell your doggie all over you. Boy wants you too, but holds himself back, isn’t that right?” he growled and nudged her close to the bed again.
Why was he saying these things about Oz? She didn’t want the werewolf, never thought about it. Not really. Well…maybe sometimes. But never in that way. He wouldn’t…she wouldn’t…
Spike slammed her against one of the posts at the foot of the bed and slapped Willow harshly across the face when she didn’t answer.
“I asked you a question, girl!” He barked. “I suggest…” he hissed, flashing some fang at her, “you answer it before I get upset.”
He wrenched her neck back as he gathered up a handful of her hair and stared down at her knowingly.
“Ye-yes, yes! He…he does. He holds himself back,” Willow admitted, tears trickling down her cheeks as she met Spike’s flashing eyes. She gave a little cry of pain as the strain in her neck intensified. Spike loosened his hold on her, but didn’t let go.
“He leaves you wanting?” Spike mused, looking at her now gently with a curious sympathy as he awaited her answer.
“Yes…” she whispered, looking down at the floor with embarrassment.
Because…because he must know. About Xander. And me. Why didn’t I ever think of it before? He can probably smell our sloppy kisses and everything all over me.
Willow’s head lolled to the side and she turned toward where Xander still lay passed out on the far side of the bed, his hair a mess with the dried clotted blood from the wound Spike had inflicted.
Spike smirked and shuffled forward, his lips mere inches from Willow’s. “Because of the boy?” Spike asked, jerking his head in Xander’s direction. His face lit up with a lascivious smile. “Red’s been a bad girl.”
Willow looked away from him and squeezed her eyes shut. “I know. I wanted him to forget. That’s what the spell was for. So…so it wouldn’t matter anymore.”
“Poor little lost girl. Trying to make amends for your cheatin’ ways. Isn’t that sweet?” Spike mocked. “And you know what?” Willow looked expectantly at him, waiting for an answer to her problems. Some sort of absolution from this evil thing that a few errant kisses didn’t matter in the long run. What could kisses like hers mean to an evil demon?
When he spoke she really wished she hadn’t wondered. “It means bollocks to me!” he roared.
Spike held her fast against the edge of the bed and quickly pinned her wrists tightly together again and wound the cord tightly around them.
“Ah!” Willow squeaked and bit her lip to keep from crying out as the frayed, sharp edges of the rope bit jaggedly into the tender flesh of her wrists. She couldn’t move her hands at all, didn’t want to when her struggles only sawed the raw, dry cord harder against her skin, splitting it open in shallow, paper thin cuts. Wrenching her arms over her head, Spike dumped Willow onto her back at the foot of the bed and looped the slack of the rope around the nearest post and secured it.
Drawing back to assess his little captive all trussed up with nowhere to go, Spike seemed satisfied with his handiwork. Her raised arms caused her breasts to jut out where her back was arched and her uneven seat on the bed had her scrambling from falling, causing her legs to splay open. What a pretty little picture she made.
“Can see what your little hellhound sees in you. Got the boys wagging their tongues and chasing your tail human and demon alike. Quite a feat that,” Spike mused, his eyes casually slipping over her body in the most perverse and unsettling way possible. Willow started up at him fearfully, shaking.
Spike leaned in toward her, his hands crawling up her thighs to the clasp of her green slacks. His fingers stilled at the button just below her belly-button and he gave her a falsely gentle smile.
“Time to show me what ya got, Red. Ready?” With that he snapped the button of her fly and tore the pants she wore off of her violently, the bunched fabric gathering at her ankles just above her red sneakers.
Willow screamed and wriggled like a fish on a hook, her body helplessly twisting with the ark of the twine that held her fast to the post. She could feel the slippery sensation of blood tightening the cord and she thought she might throw up when Spike pricked his nose at the scent. She kicked frantically at him, but her legs could only bob up and down now that her pants were at her ankles.
Spike grinned and snapped the elastic band of her panties as his hands slid up her inner thighs, pinching the soft flesh he found there. She squealed and watched with horror as he vamped and then ducked his head down to her crotch to take a deep, lingering whiff.
“Mmm, don’t you just smell delicious, pet. All fearful and pent up and ashamed.”
He tucked one finger into her panties and teased her dry entrance with his fingers, not quite penetrating, but exerting pressure in a veiled threat to do so.
“No! No! God, please, don’t touch me. Don’t…no!” she cried, in deep sobbing breaths. God, not even Oz had seen her this intimately. Not even Oz. She was going to die. He was going to rape her and kill her and kill Xander, and…
“Little girl’s never had a man inside her,” Spike murmured, drawing his fingers away from her entrance to tap lightly at her clit. “Frigged you off over those little day-of-the-week panties,” Spike murmured, eyeing her current choice of underwear with the words Tuesday emblazoned across the fabric, “but never been inside the prize, huh?” he said casually, watching Willow’s brow draw together in confusion.
“Bet your beastie would just love to get a taste of your cunny,” he smirked, and slid her panties down her hips, revealing a patch of firey red pubic hair and the outline of her clit and puffy lips just beneath it. Willow tried to close her legs, to keep his prying eyes from seeing her like this, but he just tisked and spread her thighs wide.
Assessing her, Spike scrutinized her pussy with avid attention, his eyes lingering over it for some moments. “I like a girl who’s all natural,” Spike said at last with a wink, drawing his fingers through her pubes with a gentle yank. She groaned and turned her ahead away in shame, her auburn hair spilling across her eyes.
“Shouldn’t do for a girl to be ashamed of her own treasure,” Spike mused drawing her legs over his shoulders. “Let’s see if I can’t change your tune while you have your sulk in the corner.”
Spike held her hips and gave her body a jerk, which wrenched her wrists again and caused her to cry from the pain and look down to where Spike was millimeters away from her bare sex. She watched transfixed as he slid his tongue along her folds, the soft wet sensation foreign and uncomfortable. She squirmed in his grip, but he held her firm while he sent a stream of air across her flesh raising goosebumps and causing her clit to jump. She gasped with surprise and craned her neck down to see what was happening, but only got a glimpse of Spike’s blonde head bobbing in time with his licks. The light, puppydogish lapping wasn’t what she expected from oral sex. She had read about it sure, just so she was ready when the time came with Oz, but the source material hadn’t descried the cooled, tingling of saliva, or the gently swirling sensation of niceness that built up in her pussy so that it hummed with diffuse warmth.
Her squirms brought her closer to his mouth rather than farther, and Spike smiled into her, reveling in the ease it took to overpower and control her desires.
Willow’s pelvis jerked when she felt the soft invasion of Spike’s tongue slip into her channel. She had used her fingers a little before, but the velvety softness of his tongue felt so nice, not at all like the cruel penetration she thought he would have subjected her to. She couldn’t help but groan when he fucked her with his tongue, drawing out the moisture that she was slowly producing to spread it along her pink folds. She also told herself that she couldn’t help but let out little whimpering moans or the way her stomach muscles contracted and her hips undulated as his soft, searching tongue licked at her walls and found that sweet spot within her that had her arching against his mouth. It was all out of her control and she gave up and let the sensations ripple through her in uneasy, fitful waves.
This wasn’t how she thought it would feel at all, even in her wildest fantasies when she was staring off in European History as Cordelia made some inane comment that totally justified amused snickers. She couldn’t fathom the pinch on her clit that Oz never tried or the sinful tongue that poked at the other hole too just to see her squirm and voice some half-formed protest. They would kiss, make out, sometimes he would even fondle her breasts and rube her techniquelessly over her underwear, and she would be so wound up it would get the job done. Still she was left wanting and he always seemed so hesitant to take her, have her.
Spike apparently had no such qualms. She had been quivering for the last five minutes after Spike released a few small orgasms in his stay servicing her neither regions. She had never known her body could keep going, that this still wasn’t enough. It astounded, yet terrified her the depths with which her desire went.
“Spi-spike,” she gritted, “Oh…I…” she crooned, but silenced herself.
I won’t beg him for this. I will not ask him for this.
“What is it, sweet?” Spike murmured from between her thighs, giving off desperate little groans himself as he feasted on her.
She gave out a helpless little cry of despair and writhed, but didn’t let the words come, angry tears of want and shame slipping down her face.
“Need an extra something to help you reach that big O I’ve been denying this little cunny of yours?” Spike asked casually. He frowned when she panted at him and painfully gripped her thigh to wash the pathetic look of submissive begging off her face.
“You get it when I say so, greedy little bint.” He crawled up her body then and grabbed her by her hair and wrenched her neck back, the tips of his fangs pricking at her jugular.
Fear had been transplanted to arousal and the sudden shift back to danger caused her heart to leap and skyrocket with adrenaline. She felt her pulse in her throat as she strained uselessly against her bonds.
“Oh God! Please! No! Please!” she cried.
Straining and weaving against him, Willow’s eyes darted about with disoriented apprehension. She felt a sense of disassociation as her body thrummed with fear and need and desire. She shook now with the rush of hormones that flooded her system and gave needy little desperate cries, for what specifically, she couldn’t say.
Spike chuckled and kissed her neck, licking her from jugular to ear. “You got it, luv. Just what daddy wanted to hear,” he husked and crept back down to twist her clit and penetrate her with his fingers just enough to press up on her g-spot. When she started to pant and then howl when the pleasure reached a crescendo and crashed over her, his fangs sliced into her thigh. Her fragrant blood coursed with a million and one flavors and poured into his mouth as he growled with deep satisfaction.
He worked her unhurriedly, releasing all the pent up sexual tension the little Wicca was carrying. She screamed and wept and struggled against her bonds, spreading her legs wide and taking his fingers in deeper as she fucked back on his hand, moaning despairingly and euphorically at last satiated. The burning suction she felt at her thigh only added to the myriad of sensations and she was so caught up in it – the pulling of her blood, the throbbing of her clit, the contractions of her pussy – that with one last moan she seized up, shuddered and then fell limp and silent, her pelvis wracked with the occasional aftershock.
After an extended drink, Spike retracted his fangs from Willow’s inner thigh and lapped the wound closed, satisfied that he had broken the girl just a little. She likely wouldn’t think of her little honey any time soon after that performance. And best she shouldn’t. If the Slayer ruined him for Dru, only fair that he pay her in kind by ruining her best gal pal for her little wolfman. Seemed the natural order of things, and well, seducing the innocent was always a good thrill.
Suckling some of the sweet stuff still pooling from her Spike gave her mound one last kiss and raked his fingers through her firey public hair. Best let her sleep it off. Maybe when she woke up after having all those orgasms shook loose from her she might be a bit more willing to help with the damn spell. And if he was feeling real ambitious, maybe he’d have her return the payment in turn. She might just appreciate some lessons in sucking cock after the seeing to he just gave her. And if she didn’t, well bully for him.
For now though, he had an aching erection to tend to and a sleeping boy to deface. Wouldn’t it be a laugh when the wanker woke up to find himself sticky with jizz. Swinging over to Xander’s side of the bed where the boy lay prostrate, Spike thought kidnapping and blackmail had never been so fun.