"I w-won't beg you, Buffy," Spike whispered, cringing inwardly even as he said it, cursing the vestige of pride he had left that balked at the idea of stooping that low. "Not for that. I don't care what you do to me. I won't."

A soft, surprised huff of laughter left the Slayer's lips, and he could hear that she was circling him in a manner that could only be described as predatory, before she suddenly moved in close again, one strong hand at the back of his neck, the other sliding down his stomach, edging teasingly lower, as she leaned in close to whisper against his ear in a voice of false innocence.

"You w-w-won't? Awww, I'm so disappointed, Spike...wonder what I could do to change your mind...?"

He couldn't hold back a soft moan, as her fingertips trailed lightly across the sensitive flesh just above the base of his erection, and he instinctively tried to pull away from her. Her hands were instantly hard and insistent, as her free hand reached behind him to grasp his upper thigh, just below his bottom, and jerk his body forcefully closer to her, and her other hand lowered to boldly encircle his agonized member.

He bit back a cry of pain as she pressed her thumb in a hard circle on the underside of his erection, intended more to hurt than to tempt. Her firm grip on his thigh prevented him from avoided the intense, unwelcome touch, but still she whispered in a cold voice of unyielding cruelty,

"If you pull away from me again, Spike - I'll break it. Is that what you want me to do?"

Spike was suffering, afraid, and desperate for release that had been withheld for days now; but she had at least been feeding him, and his other injuries had healed well. The relief of all the other types of physical pain he had been in had had a tremendous effect on his thought processes, and before he could stop himself he found himself replying in a mildly mocking tone, though his voice was hoarse with exhaustion and pain.

"Seems to me you have too much fun with it to wanna do that, love."

The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them, wondering at his own stupidity.

The moment later - he was beyond rational thought, beyond everything but the fierce agony flowing out from his groin through his entire body.

The Slayer viciously wrenched his swollen, throbbing manhood downward, twisting as she did so, while pressing her other hand tightly over his mouth, stifling a desperate, panicked scream of anguish that he could not suppress.

He was barely aware of her words as she finally released him, sneering in his face, "It'll heal - right?" She shrugged, as she added nastily, "And if it doesn't - I'll just go find another cute piece of vampire ass to be my personal whore." Her own words seemed to make her anger rise again, as she suddenly grabbed his hair, jerking his head back to snarl in his face, "You are nothing special, Spike! I could replace you so fast it would make your head spin! Do *not* screw around with me, because I will dust you so fast...!"

Her voice trailed off, and he realized with alarm that her hands were shaking; she seemed to be having a difficult time controlling her rage - and with both of her powerful hands currently on his head, that was actually a rather life-threatening situation for Spike. He shook his head slightly, still unable to answer with her hand over his mouth, but desperate to make her see that he would behave, he would do as she wanted.

"Okay...okay," Buffy said quietly, as if soothing herself with the words. "Everything's fine - see what you make me do, Spike? See how angry you make me get?"

She suddenly seemed to back off, as her hands were off him, and Spike was hanging freely from the chains again, gasping for breath in an attempt to control his own overwhelming panic and agony.

"I-I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly, his heart sinking with dread of what she might do to him to further punish him for his disrespect. "Buffy, I'm sorry..."

"You're always sorry," she snapped in disgust. "But never sorry enough, because it always happens again. Well, I'm gonna change that, Spike. I'm gonna teach you not to mouth off to me, you little piece of crap!"

He flinched as he felt her hands on the chains above his head, and suddenly his wrists were free. He staggered for a moment, off balance, before he suddenly felt her fingers clutching tightly at his hair, painful but steadying him, yet at the same time forcefully pushing him downward.

"On your knees," she snarled in a low, dark, commanding voice that made his stomach clench with fear, and he could do nothing but obey her.

Once he was kneeling, she pulled roughly at his hair, jerking him along the floor on his knees in the direction she wanted him to go, and there was nothing for him to do but to do his best to keep up with her, even as his face flushed with the shame of crawling after her like nothing but an animal, a pet.

Though he was fairly certain that even most pets were much better treated than this.

He felt his knees brush against something not exactly soft, but somewhat yielding, before she stopped, and he felt her strong hands on his arms from behind him, lifting him onto what felt like a thin, cheap mattress on the floor. He was shaking by now, terrified to find out what it was that she had planned for him, but forcing himself to be compliant as she maneuvered his body into the place she wanted it, and then pushed him firmly down onto his back on the mattress.

He could have fought her, but he knew that his chances with his wrists still bound in front of him, and his eyes blindfolded, were almost nothing in comparison to hers - and the thought of the punishment she would inflict for such a defiance was more than he could even consider.

"Buffy," he whispered as he felt her grip his ankle, pulling it slightly outward to the side, and wrapping a tight leather restraint around it. "Buffy - please, love...please don't..." His voice trailed off, as he realized with a sick sense of dismay that he really had no idea what to ask her not to do - all he knew was that it was not going to be good.

"Begging already, Sweetie?" she said in a falsely sweet voice, and he felt her hand pat his cheek none-too-gently. "I thought you said you weren't going to do that?"

He hesitated, struggling to find words to explain that would not further anger her. He had begged her many times before not to hurt him anymore - but something in him simply refused to beg for the physical release she was using to control him at the moment.

"I - I said I wouldn't beg you - to - to - let me come...I'm begging you *not* to do this, Buffy...please...please don't hurt me..."

Buffy did not seem pleased with his explanation. "You and that smart mouth of yours," she snarled, following up the words with a stunning backhand across his face, before grabbing the back of his neck again and jerking him partially up off the mattress, her voice softly threatening as she added with a cold smile, "When I'm through with you, you'll beg me to tell you what to beg me for! You'll say and do whatever I tell you to say and do, Spike. And right now, I'm telling you to lay there and don't move and keep your stupid mouth shut!"

She released him roughly, and left his side to bind his other ankle tightly on the other side of the mattress. Apparently she had fixed pegs in the floor for the express purpose of laying him out like this, and they were uncomfortably far apart, forcing his legs to be spread just to the point of being on the edge between pain and mere discomfort.

He had a feeling that the distance between the pegs had not been an error on her part.

When she returned to the head of the mattress and pulled his bound wrists up over his head, Spike felt that sense of helpless panic closing in on him again, as he realized that within moments, he would be denied even what slight freedom of movement he had had before.

"Buffy - please," he whispered, choking back tears of fear and pain as she unbound his wrists, and immediately jerked the right one up at an angle, fastening it too tightly to a peg above his head and to his right. "Please, love, I'm sorry - don't do this..."

"Shut..." Buffy bit off the words in irritation, as she wrenched his left arm painfully to make it reach the last peg, "...up, Spike."

He forced himself to be quiet, as he felt one of her hands lifting his hip, and the other pushing something soft and thick under his hips, holding his pelvis up in an awkward and humiliating position.

"There we go," she remarked, her tone much more cheerful now, as she added cruelly, "Now that's what I call easy access."

As she spoke, her fingertips trailed a lazy circle around the weeping head of his desperate erection, and Spike felt his body attempting instinctively to arch up toward the touch - except that he couldn't move, not at all. He was bound so tightly, his body stretched so painfully, that he had absolutely no room to move, not even a little.

Buffy's malicious giggle only intensified his shame, as his hands clenched into fists, opening and shutting with his subconscious desire to break free, though he knew that he couldn't. The Slayer knew what she was doing, and had only chosen bonds that she knew would hold him at his strongest.

And he was most definitely not at his strongest right now.

"Now," Buffy went on softly. "What are we going to do with you, Spikey?" Her voice held a teasing sadness to it, as she went on, "I try to help you make me happy - but you just can't seem to behave yourself..."

"I will, Buffy, please," he gasped out as her fingertips became a fist, pulling mercilessly at his bound organ, in a mockery of gestures that should have brought about his release - had she allowed it; as it was, they only brought him more agony. "Buffy, please, I'll do what you tell me, please, Buffy..."

"Told you to shut up, Sweetie," she reminded him calmly, her thumb pressing down on the head of his erection, drawing a moan of anguish from his lips. After a moment's pause, she added, "You have no idea what this does to me, Spike - seeing you like this - knowing that you're all mine..."

He was pretty sure that he did have an idea; the heavy scent of her arousal had long since saturated the room.

He felt his heart sink as she suddenly climbed onto the mattress, straddling him as she decided, "First things first...we'll deal with *my* little problem...and then...*maybe*...we'll deal with yours."

He had no choice but to lie perfectly still, as she climbed onto him, and began to ride him at a slow, agonizing pace, deliberately drawing out his pain, and the pleasure she took in it, until he thought he couldn't bear another moment. The heat of her climax around him was sheer torture, her muscles contracting around him and mercilessly squeezing his raw, damaged member.

He fought back a scream of agony, his taut arms and legs straining against the bonds that held him in futile desperation for escape that was denied him, as the Slayer's sated body collapsed on top of him, her harsh, deep breaths impossibly loud in his ear.

When she finally recovered, she rose up, bracing her hand on his chest in a possessive gesture, as she remarked in a tone of satisfaction, "You just have no idea how much I love this, Spike."

Something within him broke at those words - a sense of anger, outrage at what she was doing to him - and the pleasure she took in it.

*Selfish, sadistic bitch...*

"*What* did you say?"

Spike froze, panic seizing him as he realized that he must have spoken the words aloud in his delirious haze of agony and shame. "I - n-nothing," he gasped out, terrified. "Buffy, I didn't - I didn't mean to..."

"Sadistic, huh?" she said speculatively, roughly climbing off of him, and he felt the weight of her legs as she knelt on the mattress beside him. "I'll show you sadistic, Baby. Remember what I said I'd do to you if you couldn't talk nice?"

Spike racked his mind in a desperate attempt to remember - and then gave up, a mad laugh of ironic despair rising up in his throat. It wasn't as if remembering what make it hurt any less, was it?

And then, he *did* remember, as the fierce agony, like a searing, trickling flame, engulfed his trapped, vulnerable groin - as the Slayer slowly poured the deadly fluid from the tiny vial in her hand.

A hoarse, choked cry of pain escaped his throat, as he sobbed out, "Please - no, Buffy, I'm sorry - please, Buffy..."

She ignored him, holding one hand calmly over his mouth as she emptied a second bottle over his helpless body, even as he struggled uselessly in a blind panic, aware of nothing but the pain and his desperation to escape it.

"I warned you," she remarked softly, as the sickening smell of his own burning flesh reached his nostrils, adding an overwhelming sense of nausea to his general suffering. "I told you what would happen, Spike." She paused, rising up straight on her knees, removing her hand from his lips, once his attempts at screams had faded into despairing sobs.

"Now," she went on softly, malice glittering in her cold eyes. "Let's see about your little problem, shall we?"

Spike could hardly believe what she was saying - could scarcely imagine that she could really be so horribly cruel.

But when her soft yet brutal hand began slowly working the ravaged, seared flesh of his trapped manhood - he had to believe it.

And before she was finished - Spike begged for the release he had sworn he would never beg for.

And as it overwhelmed him in a fire of mingled agony and relief - sweet blackness overtook him once more.