It all came rushing back so fast...flooding, pouring in. She didn't even have time to decide if they were memories or dreams. It was all just a mad rush of confusion and it didn't help when her body started registering her whereabouts.
Dark, cold. Why was it...why was she cold? And why was it so dark? Maybe the lights are turned off...because...my eyes are wide open. She almost panicked at that thought, but calmed when her body recognized another sensation... the feeling of cold fingers removing smooth silk. She jerked slightly at the cold touch, whispering, "Angel?"
But it was too cold. Not just cold in the sense that there was no life...but in that she could feel no comfort from them at all. That was when she rememebered. She knew. They spoke at the same time, one correcting, one confirming. "Angelus!"
He ran a finger down her face and drank in her fear. He loved it, loved the way she shivered so deliciously. Not only did her entire body shudder, but her core always became wet with desire. Need that he knew was only for him.
"Why am I here?" Buffy finally asked, her voice soft. She knew the answer, but the silence had to be broken, and something had to be said.
"That was a dumb question, Slayer. I'm not even going to bother. You know why." Angelus answered boredly, watching her. Should have thought to strip her down before I tied her down. But that would ruin the fun for later. He grinned to himself.
"You won't have me, Angelus. I won't let you." Buffy spat viciously. "Just because you have me here doesn't mean that I'm yours."
He just raised a questioning eyebrow. "Does it?" When she only shook her head, he sighed. "Well, maybe not. Maybe I have to work for you." He rose from the chair where he'd been sitting and crossed over to the bed, straddling her legs. "Break you in. Won't be real hard. I might be a little rusty, though. Think you can forgive that? It has been quite a few years since I've trained a slave." His immoral grin and hungry eyes gave her shivers, and she could feel her skin crawling. And, goddamn it, her pussy slickening. She couldn't help but wonder how she was going to survive if she she couldn't ever stop being turned on by his shit.
"It would be fun. I'd love to see you crawling at my knees, bearing my mark, and wearing my collar, and doing as I say. But that would take too long." She knew that he could tell the effect her helplessness had on her, because he was sniffing the air, drinking in her arousal. "Or we could do it the quick way, because I am really hungry." He eyed her neck. "Your choice."
"I don't care what the fuck you do. Hurry it up and get it over with." She snapped and turned her head, refusing to look at him."I'm tired of your games. Stupid, fucking mind games."
He dived his head quickly towards her neck to get a whiff. She jerked, thinking he was about to feed, and moved to the side. He lost his balance, and fell forward, hitting his head on the iron bar behind her. OW! Fucking shit!!! Vamping out, he looked up at her with angry yellow eyes. "Goddamn bitch...you'll wish you hadn't done that."
"Sure I will." Buffy snapped. His falling forward had reduced the weight on her legs, and she used them now to kick him off of the bed. Quickly, she rolled off the other side, breaking the ropes around her wrists. "Angel, I feel sorry for you. You ought to know me better than this." She shrugged at the broken ropes and rushed for the door, fumbling for the lock.
Fucking bitch! Angelus growled and pushed himself up off of the floor as silently as he could. He wasn't planning on hurting her yet, but she was too damn feisty for her own good. He watched her frantically fight to find the lock to the door. Licking his fangs greedily, he wondered if he should have kept her sedated and tied down better. Nah. This is much more fun. Tiring, but fun!
"Where is the goddamned lock?!" Buffy cried and kicked at the door. Angelus snickered almost inaudibly and kept watching, sniffing the air. So many emotions staining the atmosphere... fear, anger, lost hope....arousal.
Arousal? Angelus did a double take. So she was turned on by all of this. Hmm... He let his thought trail off. What can I do with that?
He walked over silently, feeling her jump, but not struggle when he wrapped his arms around her from the back and pulled them behind her. Feeling her body go just slightly limp, he leaned forward, whispering darkly. "There is no lock. It can only be opened with a computer code, which can only be accessed by a hidden panel."
He felt her fall completely slack against him with a choked sob. "Face it, lover. You're stuck with me." He licked her neck and drank in her fear once more, relished her shudder of disgust and the increase in the smell of her juices.
She whimpered, turning around and pressing her face into his chest. He smelled the saltiness of her uncried tears, and pulled her away to arm's length just as a solitary tear slipped down her face. He reached out a finger, using it to raise her chin, and studied the powerful sorrow etched in her face. He smiled, loving the conflict that he knew was raging inside of her. She was so fearful of what he would do to her, yet she felt lost because he was all she had.
"There's no way out. You know that." He gazed deep into her eyes with that dark hooded look that always made women die inside. It worked. She shuddered and leaned even closer, whimpering again. But it didn't last. She pulled away, he held her there, increased his grip. Fight him would she? Ah, all the more fun.
"I won't let you have me." She said it again, this time with more conviction. But he knew it was just a show. An act put on to throw him off. But he wouldn't have it. When she tried to pull again, he growled.
"Be still dammit! Or I can rip your fucking arms off and show you what I can do with them. Like fuck your brains out with your own fingers." Delighted by the shocked look in her eyes, he made his move, thrusting himself forward and clamping on to her neck. This time he did not miss, and she gasped, falling limply into his arms as he began drinking. She didn't dare fight... she knew he wouldn't unlatch himself, he'd just rip up her neck. Of course, he had to view it as a show of submission...not just because that was the only way he wanted to see it but because he could smell her ever growing desire. Ah, my sweet bitch. So submissive and she refuses to admit it...well then, this journey into acceptance ought to be fun .
He grinned around her neck and fingered the dark red blood seeping down below his chin. The more he drank, the more labored her breathing became. But he couldn't stop. Her blood- not just ANY Slayer, but her blood especially, was his ambrosia. His favorite concoction.
The feelings swirling in that room were indescrible. Why on earth should he even try to put words to them? To explain to the others how good she was? To tell her friends what it was like to drain her of her will and soul? What words would he use to describe it?
Hmm. That was a thought. Maybe it'd go something like this...
"Put your fingers to your neck... and take a little bit of skin. Pinch it, carefully, not so much that it hurts terribly, but just enough to make to make yourself flinch. Then, imagine...amplify that pain in your mind a thousand times... pretend it goes through the skin with a sound not unlike a light crunch...
"Now, imagine it sucking..draining...you feel it leaving you. You feel your skin grow cold. Your legs go weak and fall limp under you. Your stomach churns and you get goosebumps because you know you are totally at his mercy...and even worse...trapped by your own body. For you know that if you truly wanted to, you could fight him...but you don't. The steaming passion and erotic feelings you get from the bite of death is only holding you there...keeping you a slave to your death..."
"And finally you give way...and orgasm powerfully as you fall into a black chasm of unconsciousness..."
Just like Buffy. Grinning, he laid her on the bed and watched her breathing build back up. She would live- he hadn't taken all of it. But when she woke up she would NOT cause such a commotion again. He was sure of it. And if she did... he had an infinite number of ways to put an end to it.