Lessons in Control
Chapter Sixteen: Another Lesson
Patrol had gone spectactacularly. Three fledges, just rising, followed by a Thornal demon that was newly arrived on the Hellmouth, and to top it all off, a wonderful spot of violence destroying a nest of fifteen vamps.
Buffy had arrived just before he'd found the nest and although he'd never, even upon threat of full-on sunlight, admit that he was glad she was there, he'd been relieved that he didn't have to face them alone. He and Buffy worked together so perfectly these days, working back to back, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. It took just long enough to destroy the nest for Spike to get his blood worked up, which is what he was going for, so he was very pleased and quickly told Buffy good night and headed for home.
"Spike?"
He barely turned, wanting to get home to Willow. "Yeah, slayer?"
"Um, how's Willow?"
He took a deep breath, which he didn't need, so it didn't calm him down. He didn't want to be calmed down, dammit; Willow was waiting for him. He closed his eyes, counted to ten and answered impatiently, "Didn't you see her in class today?"
"Oh." Buffy answered lamely. "Yeah. Well -"
When she paused, Spike understood immediately what was happening here. The only thing to be decided was what to do about it. Should he answer her questions? Hell no! Tease her along and leave her wondering? Nice thought, but won't work for long. And she is Willow's friend. I wonder of she got elected spokesperson for the group or she volunteered?
Spike pulled up a gravestone and got comfy while Buffy decided what to say next. When he patted down his pockets and pulled out his cigarettes, Buffy said, "Those aren't good for you."
He hoped it was her anxiety over this conversation that led to such a stupid statement before he said, "They're not gonna kill me, slayer. Thanks for the concern though."
"They aren't good for Willow."
He paused with the lighter almost to the tip of the cigarette and looked at Buffy. She sounded like she was going to cry. He lit the fag and put his lighter away. He took a deep drag before answering, "I don't smoke in the house." He knew that she knew that he knew she hadn't been talking about smoking, but if she was going to pry into his unlife, he wanted to make it as uncomfortable for her as possible.
Buffy visibly sagged. Suddenly, Spike thought, she looked like the young woman she was. He tended to forget that she, as well as Xander and his beloved Red, were just kids really. Physically anyway. Their bodies were barely twenty, but their experiences made them wise beyond their years. The things they'd seen, done and lived while growing up on the mouth of hell made them seem much older.
Buffy settled herself on the cold ground and leaned back against the headstone of Christine Lowden. He noticed that Christine had been born in 1981. The same year as Willow. The same year as Buffy and Xander. She'd died in November of 1997. She'd been sixteen and probably in classes with Willow and Buffy.
November 1997, right after he'd come to Sunnydale. He wondered briefly if he'd killed her. The thought made him want to vomit.
Suddenly he asked, "How's Mum and the Bit?"
"She's not your Mum, Spike," Buffy said, but with none of the hostility that used to accompany this statement.
Spike smiled his first genuine smile toward Buffy for the year. "How are they?" he asked again.
"Mum, I mean Mom," Buffy giggled and visibly relaxed, "has a little cold. Dawn's making her lots of chicken soup and babying her mercilessly. I figure she'll be back to work tomorrow just to escape my sister."
She was settling in for an impossibly rare genial conversation with Spike. She liked him like this - he rarely was when not in the company of his three favorite people, Willow, Dawn or her mom. The only people he really liked, she thought with a sigh.
This was the one Willow had chosen to be with forever, this was the man who loved her best friend more than he loved being a vampire. She decided that she wanted to be one of his favorite people, too. One of the few humans he was comfortable enough with to be himself and not "The Big Bad".
And then he had to go and mess it up. "How's Riley?" he asked.
Her eyes narrowed, "Why?"
"Just making conversation, slayer," he said after another long pull on his cigarette.
She relaxed. "He's fine," she said with a smile, letting her guard down again. "We had a little spat," she confided, her resolve to make a relationship with Spike firmly in place. "But we made up." The thought of the spat reminded her of why she had come out tonight in the first place, to find out what was going on with him, Willow and Angel. She was wondering how to work this question into her new determination to be friends with Spike when he suddenly stood and said, "Walk me home. Willow's waiting for me."
She stood and was a little alarmed when Spike pulled her up next to him and walked with his arm companionably around her shoulders. When she looked up at him questioningly, he looked back with one of his patented charmer smiles.
She smiled back, "You can read my mind, can't you Spike?"
He didn't answer, just continued walking, his arm still protectively around her shoulders.
"I think you always could," she continued. "I remember when you told me that Angel and I would never be friends -"
"Looks like I was wrong then, wasn't I?"
"No," she hastened to inform him, "You were so right. It would never have worked between us -"
"But you're friends now, right?" he interrupted as they turned the corner onto Oak Street.
"I don't know," she said glumly, and remembered again what she was supposed to be asking him. "I don't think I know him any more."
Spike stopped briefly and looked into hazel eyes that were filling with tears. "Yeah, ya do," he said as they continued walking. "There's just some things about him that you chose to ignore before. So," he said, as he seemed to change the subject, "You and Riley made up then?"
He heard her sniffle herself back under control before she answered, "Yeah. Yeah, we did." He heard a bit of a sweetness in her answer and it was just the in he needed.
"Make up sex is great, innit?" he asked with a grin.
"Spike!" she said and playfully slapped him. "That's none of your business."
"Come on, slayer, you can tell me - all friends here after all, right?"
She smiled, happy that he was as eager to be friends with her as she was with him. "Yeah, Spike, all friends here, at least I hope so."
It seemed to be a question, so he answered it, "Don't have much choice, do we, seeing as how you're my girl's best friend?"
She smiled back.
"Well, that and I can read your mind, so you'd better stay on my good side so I don't spill all your secrets," he added with a laugh and she hoped he was just kidding.
"I'm still not telling you about my sex life," she said as they rounded the corner onto Revello. "Hey, I thought I was walking you home?" she said as her house came into view.
He waited until they reached her front steps before he faced her, saying, "And yet you think you have the right to ask about mine?"
The anvil that she had felt was over her head all night finally fell. And it hurt. She studied Spike's face, trying to come up with something to say that would help her save face. Once again, Spike read her mind.
"But you do have the right to ask if she's happy."
"Is she?" Buffy asked with a wavering voice.
"Very," he answered truthfully.
"Is he?" she asked.
"He's trying to be."
"Are you helping with that?"
"As best I can."
"Do you love him?"
"He's my sire."
"That wasn't my question."
"Yeah, I do."
"Like I did?" The tears were now spilling freely.
Spike rubbed a hand across his forehead; this isn't how he wanted this conversation to go. But he wasn't going to lie to her. "I had almost a hundred years with him and Dru and Darla, Slayer. You had a few months getting to know him, one night as lovers and a year more realizing you didn't belong together. You tell me."
She was about to punch him in the face. He felt it and braced for it, but it never came. Instead she wiped her tears and said, "That's fair. You'll take care of both of them right?"
"We're not going anywhere, Buffy. We'll be here. They both love you - as friends. You'll help me take care of them."
"Yeah, I will. But somehow, I don't think you'll really need my help. But thanks for letting me give it anyway." She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug that made him feel, for the first time, like he might finally be able to accepted into the inner circle of the Scoobies.
Not that I really want to be, he thought loftily as he walked home to Willow with a silly smile on his face.
Spike entered his home and smelled the sweet almond smell of the burning candles. He made his way up the Playroom, wondering all the way how well Willow had followed his instructions.
He opened the door to find her kneeling in the middle of the floor, completely naked except for her black leather collar, a pair of red leather pumps and a pair of little white socks with lace around the cuff. She had followed his instructions to the letter.
He walked over to the closet and pulled out her rabbit fur flogger and then back to lay it on the floor next to her. Her head was bowed, as it was supposed to be, and so she had an excellent view of the toys he was bringing out to play with. He wanted her to have time to let the anticipation build.
He walked back to the closet and pulled out a pair of handcuffs; the harsh, cold metal covered in green velvet. He sat them on the floor directly in front of her. He went back again and this time he pulled out something that he then took and put in the corner near the swing. Since she was facing in the other direction, she couldn't see what it was.
"Follow me." He left the room, and as instructed, she followed him out of the room and then turned and followed him into the bathroom.
"Take my clothes off of me."
Willow had a hard time not smiling as she reached for his coat. She loved how Spike gave her orders to do things that she wanted to do anyway, yet he made it sound like a chore fit only for a lowly slave. She slid the leather down his arms, letting her fingertips reach out and graze the tshirt that conformed to the contours of the muscles of his spectacular shoulders. A breathy moan escaped her lips and Spike commanded again, "Undress me Willow, I need a shower before we get started."
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how patrol had gone, but she remembered in time that she wasn't allowed to speak.
She hung the coat on the hook on the back of the door and walked back to remove his tshirt. This time when her fingers caressed his chest, it was entirely deliberate and she let him know it. He didn't complain again, and the heat in his eyes as he watched her gave her the impression that he wanted her touch as much as she wanted to touch him.
As she unlaced his boots and pulled them off, her surreptitious glances at his chest, back, shoulders and face were made with a renewed sense of wonder. How was it possible that this wonderful man - vampire - who was just as beautiful inside as he was outside - and who would have thought that could be possible? - how was it possible that this incredible being could have fallen in love with me? Who am I? I'm nobody, that's who I am. And yet he does, he really does love me. And just as much as I love him.
She rubbed her hands together for a moment to warm them up before she slid her fingers inside the waistband of his jeans and unbuttoned the fly. She knew that her warmth was one of the things about her that turned him on, just as the coolness of his touch always made her skin burn.
Her hands traveled to his sides and she knelt down and slowly pulled the jeans down and off of him. She resisted any urges she had to do anything else while she was down here, knowing that absolute obedience was expected of her. And she wanted to give it to him, she suddenly realized. This had started out as a game, but it had, over time, turned into something more.
She stepped back and Spike made his way into the shower. He hadn't told her to do anything, so she stood where he had left her.
What am I doing? Why am I obeying him? I don't even like the word 'obey' in other people's wedding ceremonies, yet here I am, willing doing every little thing Spike tells me to. Even down to these stupid socks, what are they about anyway? They look silly if you ask me - little girl frilly socks with high heels. But I wore them, just like he asked me - told me to. Why? Because its fun. Okay, yeah, there is that. And I asked him to teach me this. Why? For the sex? Our sex was fantabulous even without this. What do I get out of this? Letting him order me around? He had to train me to do it, I wasn't very good at it at first. It took lots of lessons, lots of training. Usually I'm pretty smart and I pick things up quickly, but this was harder and took longer. Why? And what changed exactly? What am I doing now that I wasn't doing before? Nothing. I'm still doing everything he tells me, when he tells me to. Why? Well, the benefits are great, for one thing. When I please him, he uses that rabbit flogger and it feels so good on my skin. And he never asks me to do things that I don't want to do anyway. He did at first, but I guess he learned what I like…
He learned what I like…
When he learned what I like… that's when it changed. That's when I did things not because he told me to, but because I wanted to.
The lessons weren't mine - they were his! He had to learn what I like, what I respond well to. All this talk about my training. I wasn't the one being trained - he was!
She heard the shower stop and a booming master vampire's voice saying, "Get me a towel." With a new smile forming on her lips, she eagerly complied.
"Why are you smiling?"
"Because I love you, master." This was clearly not the answer he'd been expecting and that made her smile even broader.
"You love me? That's why you're smiling?"
"Yes, master."
"Okay, that's allowed. You may continue," he told her with a wink.
"Thank you, master."
"I love you too, Willow."
She was practically hopping, she was so happy. He loved her. Not just in a girlfriend-slash-fiancee kind of way either. He'd said he loved 'Willow'. Submissive to his dom Willow. She was in heaven. She'd pleased him by letting him please her. By letting him find out what she was like underneath the confines of how she thought she was supposed to act with her lover. All the things he'd done and said while she was his sub took on new meaning. Now she saw them for what they really were: he was pushing every button she had, good and bad, finding out what made her happy, what made her angry, what turned her on, what turned her off. What were the deep dark desires that she hadn't known about consciously herself. What her limits were in both directions. He had been getting to know her better than she knew herself. And after finding out what she was really like, deep down, underneath the red hair and green eyes, he still loved her. All of her.
She followed him into the playroom and watched as he dropped the towel and prowled around the room. 'Prowled' was the only word for it. She suddenly felt sorry for anyone he had hunted while he was evil. Well, more evil. Before the chip evil. Not that he was evil now, he's more like 'bad'. She smiled. Bad in all the best ways of course. He's my big bad these days. Every girl should be this lucky.
"You're smiling again, Willow."
She bowed her head, pretending to be contrite.
"Willow, look at me." She looked up into beautiful blue eyes that were now right in front of her. How does he move so fast?
"Do you want to continue? We don't have to, if you don't-"
"Oh, no, master, I want to continue, I really do. Please don't stop. I won't smile any more, I promise."
He looked pleased, which pleased her and she started to smile again.
"Let's see if I can do something to wipe that smile off your face." He held out a pair of black metal handcuffs, not fabric covered this time. He put one cuff on her wrist and led her over to the far wall. He attached the other cuff to a ring that was affixed to the wall at about the same level as the top of her head. He picked up another pair identical to the first and did likewise to her other wrist. She was now handcuffed and facing the wall.
He walked over the closet and pulled out a black plastic tube with loops made of rope on each end. He slid one foot through one loop and pulled on the rope, making the loop tighter around her ankle before he lifted her other foot to guide into the loop on the other end of the spreader bar. Once again he pulled the rope tight around her ankle. He could hear her panic in her blood, it was rushing through her veins now. He had a feeling she wasn't smiling anymore.
He strode over and picked up the rabbit flogger. He snapped it against her posterior before she even realized he had walked away. His hand slid over her skin. The soft fur didn't hurt her at all, but he had to make the skin ready for the sturdier whips he'd be using later.
Every smack was followed by a firm stroke of his hand. When he'd first done this to her, she'd thought he'd been doing it to get her off. Okay, he had been, but it served another purpose as well. You couldn't just whip human skin and not expect it to crack and bleed. Even a soft beating would result in bloodloss if the skin wasn't properly prepared first. The rubbing that he did now, and the spanking he followed it with served the purpose of toughening up her skin for the bullwhip he'd bring out later.
He slowly increased the pressure of the spanking and before long, Willow screamed out her release as came in his hand.
As he was walking back toward her, he took a moment to admire the view. He didn't know what it was about seeing her in the high heels with the lacey socks, but whatever it was, it was effective. She was standing with her back to him, facing the wall covered in the wallpaper he'd picked o0ut because he thought she would look beautiful standing in front of it. She thought he'd put it up and he hadn't disabused her of the notion, but he really should come clean and tell her he'd hired a company to do it. He'd even hired a company from a town quite a distance away, so that there'd be no chance of Willow having to be embarrassed by coming in contact with the person who decorated the room he'd designed for the sole purpose of fucking his witch in a million different positions.
His admiration started at her red heeled feet and worked up her amazingly long legs, across the reddened skin of her shapely ass and up the smooth skin of her back. Her hair was getting long again and hung down her back in a flowing waterfall of red. He remembered when Angel had admired it after their first time together, and thinking about watching his sire and his love, writhing together on the black silk covered bed, made him hurry his pace to reach her.
"Are you ready, Willow?"
"Y-yes, master. I'm ready."
Long centuries of practice had made the first crack of the whip gentle, meant not to hurt, but just to let her know what was coming so that she could mentally prepare herself. The second was slightly harder and made a harsh red stripe appear on her back. Her gasp worried him, but the moan that followed it told him that she was enjoying the pain.
He sent another snap of the whip across her backside, this one lower than first. Her delicate human skin wouldn't be able to take too much more of this. He put the whip down and set her free. He took her feet from the spreader bar, he took the handcuffs off her wrists and left them hanging on the rings on the wall. Willow didn't move.
"What do you want?" he asked her.
Still she said nothing. Her eyes were glazed over and her hands pressed into the wall, holding her steady.
"What do you want?"
"You. I want you."
"What do you want?"
"I want you to show me who you are, who you really are."
"What do you want?"
She stood up straighter, placed her hands flat on the wall and straightened out her arms.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to hurt me. I want you to make it hurt until I scream."
He hadn't expected her to say that. He loved her more right now than he'd ever loved anyone or anything.
He stepped back and picked the bullwhip up once more. She might say she wanted pain, but he couldn't hurt her, not really hurt her anyway. He used everything Angelus had ever taught him and brought the whip down across her backside once again, harder than before, but with a painful caress, meant to give more pleasure than pain - or at least pain in an erotic way.
To cause pain, the intent is to hit the skin with the tip of the whip, a quick slash that would bleed and sting. The more surface of the whip that came in contact with the skin, the less pain that was inflicted because the tension was released across a broader area. The next crack hit her and left a long red slash across the small of her back. She cried out in pain and pleasure and Spike was at her side, catching her as she fell.
He lay her down face first on a pile of pillows and she begged, "Please, Spike - master, please. I need you. Please."
Since this request coincided with what he had planned to do anyway, he acquiesced and spread her legs and entered her, holding himself up on his hands and arms, not wanting to put any further strain on her back or backside. This gave him an outstanding view of the red marks and small welts that she had allowed - hell, she had practically begged him to give her. He wanted to pound into her and scream out his love for her, but he forced himself to slow down. He wanted to savor this moment, wanted to feel her around him, wanted to make love to her, not just fuck her. Being a dom or a sub was usually about sex, or so he had always thought. But he'd fallen in love with her. He'd fallen deeply, passionately in love with Willow. Willow the submissive.
He'd loved his Red, but this was only supposed to be a sex game, something to do that was different and exciting. But in training her, he'd learned more about her than he ever dreamed. He found the hidden woman underneath the girl's clothes. As a submissive, she'd let him into her in ways he'd never have reached otherwise. This wasn't the hacker, or the straight A student, or slayer's shadow or Xander's best friend or even his girlfriend. This Willow, the one he only saw when she wore the collar, was a strong woman who had found her place in the world. And he got to love her.
Willow was losing control and came in a great rushing wave that pulled him into her and he couldn't withhold the growl that forced it way out as he shot himself inside of her. Panting, he lowered himself down onto the cushions next to her. She was already asleep. He smiled and kissed her temple. He got comfortable next to her and pushed a few stray hairs off of her face so that he could watch her sleep.
Dawn had come and gone by the time he finally let himself stop staring at her face and fell asleep.