Pairings: Spander
Appropriate Ratings: NC17 overall but this chapter... PG13/R
Warnings: Slavery, nudity, nothing much.
Disclaimers: Not my characters. I make no money off this, I'm just playing. I promise to give them a bath and thorough cleaning when I’m done! Joss Whedon is my lord and Master. All hail Joss Whedon.
Short Summary: Hello puppy...
Word Count: 727 (As per MS Word Count)
Beta: [info]tamakin and [info]laazikaat

This is in response to the prompt table given to me by [info]hawk_soaring. Thanks bunches again!

Comments keep my muse well fed.

Puppy Love

Perverted Pages

Part One

He stalked through the large yet stuffy barn, barely looking at the merchandise on sale. He was bored with the selection of sickly humans displayed in each tiny stall; they were all either about to keel over or well worn around the edges, and that was never fun. He wanted something with a little bite to it, a little fire, and this months selection was severely lacking. All these demons insisted on well trained and often well bred stock, but because vampires so rarely bought anything at these auctions, they rarely had anything better suited to their tastes. It was a shame, really, Dru had been so insistant he find a puppy to bring home, and here he was disappointing her. Maybe he’d snatch her a toddler to make her feel better, or a shiny bauble or three from the shops.

He sighed to himself, black leather trench coat fanning out from him like black wings as he turned to make his way down the last row of stalls. He tossed a casual glance inside each tiny cell and moved on. The sight of so many humans kneeling and staring dully at the floor just made him wonder what all these different classes of demons saw in them. They were all so… easy, readily packaged and conditioned, no effort required. If you were going to get a slave you should at least break them in, seemed only logical, otherwise where was the fun?

He was nearing the end of the row and had stopped really seeing what was in the stalls, instead remembering the new mother he’d seen move into the motel down the street. She’d been ripe, and the infant had looked sweet, almost tender; a perfect consolation prize for his dark princess. He’d planned on offering them to Dru for their anniversary next month, but he could always find a different prize for that later. But just then something gleamed in the light of the converted barn, and it made him pause before the fourth last booth.

Shiny steel cuffs circled the human’s wrists and the chains leading from them held him immovably in place. He critically eyed the merchandise in front of him. The cuffs meant he hadn’t been trained not to run away yet, and that was a rarity at these auctions. He was kneeling with his thighs bound together with a thick leather strap, telling him this one was a virgin for penetration and his cock and balls were snugly kept in a codpiece. A true virgin then, such a rare delicacy was almost never found at these things. The full leather hood with built in ball gag cinched it for him; this nummy treat wasn’t even trained to properly address his superiors or to keep his gaze respectfully lowered. He was perfect.

Spike watched the leather balloon out around the breathing perforations at the nose with each lazy breath in and out. He stank of the sedatives he’d been forcibly injected with, and the heavy cloying scent of his desperation and fear filled that tiny cell, wafting out the open front to fill the narrow aisle. Dru should have told him to start from the end since she’d known he was here, would have saved him a few hours of tedium.

He picked up the clipboard inside his cell to see what merits and training this little tidbit had been given. Hrm… caught in Cleveland three days ago, and in all that time they only taught him how to get in and out of a cage. He looked at the demon type listed as capturing him, Vor’nock. He’d spent three days with the Vor’nock’s and all they managed to beat into him was to crawl into a doggy crate to get his kibble and gruel. He wondered idly if he was biting off more than he could chew. The Vor’nock were notorious for being harsh trainers, using pain liberally to hammer home their points in training. The fact that this human hadn’t broken beyond the crating stage was somewhat worrisome… but the fact that his dark plum had sent him here made that less so. He scribbled his bid at the bottom of the sheet, and leaned against the side of the booth, warning other potential bidders away.

This boy would be his, and no one was about to outbid him.

Part Two

Spike upended the heavy canvas postal sack, dumping his burden on the floor. He heard a muffled grunt of pain and smiled. His brand new toy was still wearing everything from the auction, all the way down to the leather straps holding him in a closed thigh kneel. He looked so delicious there on his side, muscles clenching beneath their sheath of damp silky skin. His baby fat still hovered here and there, giving him soft lines, not yet hard and defined, but he was getting there. After a couple of months under Spike’s firm hand he’d be breathtaking… not that Spike had any breath to take. He ran his hand down the tender curve of the boy’s hips, delighting in the shuddering reaction. He was going to be so much fun to break.

He walked back to his coat, sliding his hand down the leather and into a large pocket, retrieving a slim box. He tore it open easily on the way back to his pet, fingers petting the leather. He squatted beside the boy and pulled him easily to his knees. With agile fingers he buckled and locked the brand new collar around his neck, shiny plate proclaiming to all who he belonged to. It wasn’t unique or particularly fetching, but it would do for now. If he earned himself a new collar then he’d get an upgrade.


Xander was so disoriented and stunned that he didn’t realize what was happening until he felt the lock clicking shut. Of course that didn’t stop him from struggling. Well, wiggling his head a bit, and kinda bouncing, twitching, on the carpeted floor. Not that it really did anything other than entice a cool hand to caress his flank again. He shuddered silently and was still, sucking around the ball-gag, trying to keep from drooling inside his hood any more than he already had.

His face was slick with spit and perspiration, the stink of leather invaded his senses, blinding him to everything else. He had no idea where he was, who he was with or what was about to happen to him. For all he knew he was bound for an abattoir like the demons had threatened, and this might be his only chance to escape. A collar was a small indignity to pay to be able to escape.

The cool hand grew bolder, teasing his tensed and clenching buttocks, moving up his side to tease a nipple and was swiftly joined by its twin. Xander tried not to flinch, not to jump, but before long he was squirming. The cool fingers had long since warmed against his skin and oddly they were no longer freaking him out. They’d long since left behind the places that made him tense and struggle, and were concentrating on what made him arch, whimper and moan. He felt himself flush as the intimate caresses aroused him beyond deniability, felt it spread past his hood and down his chest, painting his shame and arousal with heated blood just under his skin.

He couldn’t get in enough air through the holes in his hood, his nostrils seemed to slam closed with each gasping intake of breath, the leather molding to his face before ballooning out. He wanted to beg them to stop, to keep going, to just move down and a little to the left, nonono, the other left, yes, there, down a little, down, please please please go down just a li- AH! Yes, oh yes, right there, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop…. At this point, he couldn’t think beyond the next moment, the next caress. Part of him wondered if it had anything to do with the second shot he’d gotten before his trip in the sack, most of him really didn’t care.


Spike smiled to himself and bent the boy’s head forward, resting the crown on his chest. With nimble fingers he undid the lacings of the hood but kept the buckle holding the gag in place locked. He peeled it forward and off his upper face, gazing at the sweat drenched locks of sable hair… and that’s when he finally placed the scent. It had been nagging at him since the auction house… but not anymore.

A sultry smirk teased his lips as he pulled the top of the hood forward, baring those soft brown eyes. They blinked blearily at him, trying desperately to focus through the glare of the lighting in the room when he’d had nothing but utter darkness for so long. Recognition slowly dawned on his face, and he let out a startled muffled yelp, struggling to get away in vain. Spike just reached forward and hooked his finger through the loop at the front of the collar and pulled him close, forcing the puppy to look up into his brilliantly blue eyes.

“Hello pet…” He couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled from his lips, dark glee at having the bitch’s boy in his possession, of having a human, clean of touch, at his command. “We’re gonna have one hell of a time.”

Part Three

Drusilla was here tonight. She’d been spending days, and sometimes nights, out “playing with the reindeer,” as she put it. Spike didn’t know what to make of it, but his precious plum was happy so that was all that mattered, right? Besides, he had his boy to keep the sting of boredom at bay, and she was here tonight, that was all that mattered.

Xander was gagged and tied face down to a hobby horse, arse high in the air and his wrists tied to the legs. He was bent in half and presented so deliciously Spike was barely able to control himself. He didn’t want to do things out of order, he needed to stay in line with the script he’d been taught at Angelus’s knee, so he didn’t allow himself to indulge. Spike was going to claim Xander, and he wasn’t about to leave a loophole for him to wiggle out of later. The boy would be his, and he would bathe in the screams, lick the sweat and blood from his soft skin, claim and command every single inch of him… and tonight was the first step.

The full moon rode low on the horizon, and Drusilla nodded to the black robed priest. The circle of witnesses and dark priests began a low droning chant while a minion worked a bellows and raised the heat of the brazier from a dull red to a roaring white. The head priest thrust the enchanted brand into the heart of the flames, calling down blessings from cursed and dark gods.

Behind Xander’s restrained form stood Spike wearing a loose black silk shirt and tight denim pants. His pale hair was artfully spiked and swirled away from his head, making his cheekbones seem more angular and defined. With his hips canted just so, his head tilted to the side and the ornate silver blade glinting in his hand he looked like a dark worshipper, about to shed blood and take a life in his demon lord’s name. Thankfully, this claiming was to be directly between Xander and Spike, no gods or demons to usurp his claim and title, no one to come between him and his.

Spike stood up tall at the nod from his princess, and uttered the words taught to him over a century ago;

By blood and word I bind thee
By right and might I claim thee
By law and flame I mark thee
By the blessings of the cursed gods, I make you mine

The first line was punctuated by Spike slashing his palm with the desecrated blade, splashing his blood over the boys bowed back and head. Xander was shaking his head wildly at the words, trying to buck and squirm off the instrument of his binding. The second line had him standing directly behind Xander, his erection painfully constricted by his tight black jeans. Already the air was perfumed by the salty tang of the tears of defeat Xander was spilling. When Spike made it to the third line, the branding iron was placed into his hand and he pressed it unflinchingly into the tender flesh of the boy’s upper right thigh.

Xander howled and screamed around the gag, trying in vain to get away from the agony while Spike just pressed it harder into his skin, searing and marking him indelibly with fire. At the end of the small chant Spike stalked around the hobby horse and pulled Xander’s head up by the hair, so all Spike had to do was bend over to bury his fangs in the unblemished virgin throat.

Xander whimpered, his only defiance against this further indignity, unable to struggle, weak from pain and shock. He was marked, forever scarred by the symbol of ownership seared into his skin, and the only thing he could do was cry tears of humiliation, fear and pain.

When Spike pulled away from his throat he let the human’s head fall forward, not caring about the pained grunt, or how quickly the whelp lost consciousness. His heartbeat was steady and strong, he’d be fine, what Spike was interested in was the brand. He moved to stand behind his human, slightly to the right and took in the brand. It was a ten centimetre rail road spike with the swirl of an ornate S at it’s widest point, and already it was healed, already the human was ready for more abuse from his rightful Lord and Master, and that meant Spike had done everything right.

No one could take Xander away from him anymore; the boy was his pet, his pup, his toy, now and forever.

Dru giggled in glee, clapping her pale white hands in delight while Spike chuckled darkly, and through it all Xander dreamed of his future and cried silently.

Part Four A

Xander curled up in a tight ball of misery in the lightly padded dog crate he’d been unceremoniously shoved into. The gag had been removed while he sagged unconscious in his bonds, he didn’t remember it, but his jaw still ached in echo of its use. His fingers danced over the fully healed brand, tracing the outline burned into his skin. He was marked, forever. No matter what else happened, he’d forever carry this scar.

He started to cry again, but it quickly broke into almost hysterical laughter. This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? When he’d left Sunnydale? He’d wanted to be punished; he’d begged the universe to cleanse him of his sins through pain and humiliation, just like what he’d always gotten at home.

It was almost purifying, the pain. It was a way to pay for what he’d done, pay for the betrayal of his closest friends… and he knew he still had so much more to pay for. He’d lied about Willow’s message, and he’d done it on purpose. He knew what she was up to, what she was trying to do, and with his own anger and insecurities fuelling his hatred, he’d told Buffy to kill Angelus. He’s the one that took away that last hope, he’s the one that made her believe there was no other way, and now… now Sunnydale didn’t have a Slayer anymore. It was his fault, it was always his fault.

When his cousin had called from Cleveland to say he needed some help building the addition to their house, he’d volunteered. His parents didn’t care, they never did. His father had hollered something about not needing to feed him for those two months, and his mother’s shrill voice had demanded he bring home some money to help pay for things around the house. So he’d just left; he hadn’t even packed more than a couple of shirts, one pair of socks, his tooth brush and an extra pair of shoes. They’d caught him at the bus station.

All he remembered about his capture was a girl screaming in an alley. He’d run down to save her, protect her, and it turned out it wasn’t even a girl, just some demons having a good time; they didn’t take kindly to the interruption. He’d woken up later inside a tiny wire dog cage, a sipper bottle of gruel fastened to the side. It was changed daily, and someone cleaned up underneath his cage when he’d been unable to hold back nature’s call anymore. Every morning someone hosed him down, leaving him shivering and damp, but blessedly clean.

They hadn’t even bothered to train him, just sent him telepathic realities of him being dipped into boiling oil, or being eaten alive by thousands of rats, or any other number of horrific images and sensations if he got loud, out of hand, unruly; why bother to mark the flesh and lower the price when their minds could make him believe anything they wanted? Much less effort and mess and no loss of profit this way.

It was what he’d wanted, what he’d begged for… he just never thought he’d get an answer like this…


Hours later he heard the heavy clomping of boots in the hall, and he looked up with tear damp eyes as Spike strode into the room as if he owned the whole world, every inch screaming confidence and power. Xander shivered and adverted his gaze.


That single word seemed to echo in the room, raised goose bumps along his nude body and made him flinch instinctively. Nonononono, not again, please not again. He curled tightly into himself, head pillowed inside his arms as every muscle tensed in anticipation.

Spike looked down at him, confusion clear on his face. The boy had been ‘trained’ by the Vor’nock for three days straight, he was bound to be shy and jumpy, and it would come in handy. All he’d need was a softer approach, show a little kindness, keep him firmly in line and the boy would make a fantastic slave. The Vor’nock really knew what they were doing with this one. Should send ‘em a thank you card…

Spike cleared his throat, relishing the shiver of fear in response and slowly stalked over to the cage, “I walk in a room, you look at me pup. I’m your Lord and Master now, an’ you have to always know where I am, what I’m doing, what I might need you for. You’ll learn my habits, tastes, desires an’ anticipate ‘em. Only way you’re gonna do that is if you watch me, got it?”

Xander thought this over, and had an initial urge to be contrary, to not give in, to stand up for himself… but he knew who this was, what he was capable of, and besides, if he gave the bleached menace a false sense of security and made him think he was broken… maybe he’d get a chance to escape. Because he wasn’t broken, he wasn’t! They even sold him as unbroken! He was just… bruised around the edges, but he’d be fine as soon as… as soon as…. Well, he’d be fine!

Even though the decision was made and his act was easy enough to fall into, he didn’t dare question how easy it was, it made his skin crawl and temper flare, but he kept it in check. This wasn’t real. He wasn’t really a slave, this was an act, and he’d pretend till he saw a way out of this situation. After all, he was good at pretending, pretending everything was fine, everything was good, that the burns weren’t there, that his parents would notice if he didn’t come home, that his father wasn’t right about him being a worthless piece of trash he wished his mother had swallowed, this was just another act… it would be alright. He forced himself to uncurl from his protective position, trying to swallow down the whimpers of fear clamouring to spill out.

Spike sucked air through his teeth in warning, and Xander’s eyes flew up to Spike’s face in response. His eyes were open painfully wide before he calmed down enough to put on a more relaxed expression. Spike looked down at those warm brown pools of human suffering and couldn’t help the dark chuckle that fell from his lips. Responsive, fearful, and he still has the sweet scent of innocence, what a prize my pup is…

“There’s a good boy. Want to see your face, see every thought an’ emotion dance across it. You will not deny me my pleasure, that clear whelp?” Spike’s voice lowered to a warning tone, and Xander couldn’t help but nod quickly in response, dark brown waves shimmering in the candle light. Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth, drinking in the fear and dread, relishing the aromas pouring off the human. “Good boy. Knew you’d learn quick.”

He walked smoothly up to the cage, every inch a predator secure in its surroundings and opened the door, motioning with a flourish for Xander to crawl out. It was so tiny, he had to crawl out backwards, and Spike enjoyed the show, standing back far enough to watch his body move, leaning back slightly to get the full view. He curled his lip at the ungainly gait of his new prize, but shrugged to himself, grace could be taught… with enough positive and negative re-enforcement, anything could be taught to just about anyone.


Xander was seething inwardly at his treatment, at the patronizing tone, but he was hopeful. He wasn't tied or chained, he was in good health, and it seemed Spike was the only one in the room. If he could just have some kind of distraction, he could make a run for it. He wasn't sure where he was, but he was pretty confident they hadn't left the country, so he could find some way to get home.

Home, right, what kind of home did he have? A drunkard father, a mother who couldn't remember that she HAD a son five days out of the week, a failing academic career and a best friend he'd betrayed and another one he'd probably killed. It was the only reason he could think of for Buffy not to be back from that fight, that battle to save the world. She wasn't even supposed to be alive as it was; all the prophecies said she should have died in the tunnels by the Master's hand... this last battle must have been too much. It was his fault, always always his fault.

He moved to stand up but a warning hiss from Spike dropped him back to all fours, wincing when his knees impacted with the thin carpet. Spike sighed inwardly at his awkward movements. He started to schedule training sessions in his head, trying to decide just what he’d need to be taught to make him the perfect puppy Spike knew him to be capable of. Some grooming, discipline, a few treats and rewards when earned… he’ll be a prize.

"On your knees at all times ‘less you're serving me, or wantin’ to serve." Spike’s lips teased into a smirk just before his tongue curled behind his teeth. He leaned back and looked down into Xander’s warm human eyes. "Did you want to serve me then?" he asked with a teasing low tone.

Xander was shaking his head rapidly, "No… no thanks, I think I'll just stay here and er… keep quiet." His mind was reeling at what Spike could possibly mean by serving him, shying away from the more... nude images. Because that’s just… no.

The smirk never left Spike's lips, even when he back handed Xander across the face. While Xander lay sprawled on the floor, Spike spoke, his voice rising in volume slowly simmered to a boil, “I’ll not be spoken to with such little respect. I’m your Master, your GOD!” He stalked three paces away before turning and snarling out, “You do not so much as take a soddin’ piss without my say so, every damned breath you take is by my leave and grace, understand? You do what I say, when I say it an’ if you don’t watch that tone I’ll see to it you never use it again. Do I make myself crystal bloody clear?” By the end of his tirade, he was quite worked up, icy blue eyes shimmering gold for a handful of panicked heart beats before settling back again.

Xander nodded quickly, eyes locked on Spike’s face. Just an act, that’s all this is, doesn’t matter, I can get out of here, and if I can’t, someone will find me… . He felt his stomach sink when he realized… no one would be looking for him. His family didn’t care, his cousin would just think he wasn’t able to leave because of a boxing match with his dad, Willow thought he was gone for the whole summer and there really wasn’t anyone else who would look for him. He was stuck here until he found a way out on his own…

"I think its high time you started learnin’. Undress me. Shoes first, then my shirt, then the pants." Xander looked up at him with a you have GOT to be kidding me look on his face. Spike frowned down at him and spoke with a clipped tone, "NOW pet. Don't make me repeat myself, you won't like what happens."

Part Four B

Xander scrambled to Spike's feet, firmly convinced he was never going to outgrow his awkward and gawky stage. No matter what he did, he felt like an idiot kneeling before Spike, fingers fumbling with the laces of the bulky boots. Maybe that’s the point, make Xander feel all stupid and stuff. Stupid vampire, who’s all blond, and mean, and so totally evil! Spike sighed quietly, and lifted his foot, resting his boot on Xander’s thigh, who couldn’t help but flinch, expecting another harsh blow. When nothing else happened Xander looked up questioningly but Spike said nothing, waiting impatiently for his boy to obey.

He finally managed to untangle the stubborn knot and pulled first one, then the other boot off, mercifully happy that vampires didn't seem to have foot odor issues. Here he stopped, looking up Spike's lean body and tried to figure out how he was going to help take off his shirt from down on the floor when Spike snorted and snapped his fingers, making a "get up" motion with his hand.

"You're servin’ me, stand up." He watched passively as Xander stumbled to his feet, and showed no sympathy when Xander winced and flexed his toes. Bloody human needs and circulation, Spike griped to himself silently. When Xander finally stood facing him he let out a bit of a startled yip, finding himself standing much closer than he’d intended to the deadly vampire menace. Xander stumbled back a step, half from loosing his balance and half from wanting to put distance between them before Spike grabbed him with a bruising grip about his upper arm.

“No need to step back, like you close… all nice an’ warm…” Spike leaned forward and breathed deep of the boy’s scent, nose nudging the delectable curve of his earlobe, lips hovering over the healing mark on Xander’s throat. He smiled to himself when he felt the boy tremble at his cool breath caressing the bitten flesh and saw a trail of goose bumps explode over his skin. He heard the human’s breath catch, scented the burst of pheromones that perfumed the air, quickly followed by almost blinding panic. He eased back his grip, thumb rubbing the abused muscle in soothing circles while Xander struggled to remain still, immobile. He didn’t want to give the bleached menace any reason to hurt him, to make getting away any harder.

“Shirt’s next pet,” he breathed deep of the panic laced cinnamon scented boy, his face barely holding onto it’s human mask. It positively made his mouth water, but there would be a proper place for things. He had drunk from Xander the night before, the light of the full moon bathing the human’s crimson coated throat in it’s brilliance. Spike had to wait for one full night to pass before he drank again or the claim wouldn’t be permanent, another vampire could usurp his ownership, and he wouldn’t have that. He’d wait, and when the time came… it would be so very very sweet.

Xander tried to calm his breathing, tried not to touch the undead skin just under a thin sheath of clothing, fingers a hair’s breadth from actual contact. They were trying to tremble and shake, but he fought them to stillness. He didn’t want to touch Spike, feel that cool skin slide under his fingers, feel muscles clench and flex under that perfectly pale skin, nonono, he didn’t want that. Because that’s dirty bad wrong! He was a guy, and Xander liked girls, not undead… males. He lifted Spike’s red over shirt off his shoulders, carefully sliding it down his arms. Xander’s face almost touched Spike’s chest when he bent over to slide it completely free, he couldn’t help it, he also couldn’t help hearing Spike’s sharp intake of breath. Don’t bite me don’t bite me don’t bite me

Spike had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep silent, tasting his own undead blood flood his mouth. He could feel the heat radiating from Xander’s fingers, ghosting over his skin, never touching, teasing and taunting the demon’s craving for heat and warm fresh blood, and it was driving him mad! The boy was like a furnace, the blood pumping through his veins with each frenzied heart beat sang to him stirring his demon to barely below the surface. Spike fought it down, knowing it would only terrify the boy further, and he was already scared enough; didn’t want him piddling in his pants in terror! He now felt his own blood pooling below the belt, feeding and filling his cock inside the tight confines of his jeans. How he wished this particular spell didn’t also have a celibacy clause… or he’d have taken the boy before he’d even crawled out of the cage.

Xander was shaking visibly now, unable to stop himself any longer. He had to pull out Spike’s shirt from his pants. He had to reach his hand down Spike’s pants and pull out his shirt. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this!! I just…. I can…. Do I have to… I can’t-can! I CAN! Oh gods, I so can’t.

Spike pinched Xander’s chin between thumb and forefinger, lifting up his face till they looked eye to eye, “You refusin’ me?” he asked in a dark and deadly voice, pure blue eyes boring holes into Xander’s.

Xander twitched his head in the negative, wincing slightly when Spike’s grip tightened, holding him still.

“You respond out loud to my questions pup, clearly, respectful like. Won’t have you mumblin’ or twitchin’ about.”

Xander bit back a whimper with a gasped in breath, “N-no, not refusing. I-I’m s-sorry.” He clenched his eyes tightly, waiting for the next blow, only to open his eyes wide at the warning growl. “I’m n-not… I haven’t….”

“Haven’t done anythin’ like this before, I know, ‘s why I wanted you, why I’m bein’ so lenient... I’m gonna to make you into the perfect little pet, obedient, needy, willing, and it don’t matter if it’s not what you want ‘cause it’s what I want, your Lord and Master…” He leaned forward and flicked the tip of his tongue against Xander’s pouty lower lip, delighting in the shudder and his almost imperceptible pull back, but he stayed; either fear or Spike’s grip held him immobile, didn’t matter really.

Xander was breathing heavily, a high pitched whimper-whine coming from his throat with each constricted breath. He couldn’t move his head, but he wanted this over with as soon as possible. He felt Spike shiver slightly when his fingers barely brushed the skin at the small of the vampire’s back.

He felt tears squeak out past his control, his nose starting to get stuffy, he wanted nothing more than to be away from Spike, away from Cleveland, and just be allowed to cry… at least at home his dad left him alone long enough to cry. He flinched slightly when Spike wiped away a tear with his thumb, and quickly pulled the shirt free and slowly up.

Spike smirked to himself, and let Xander pull the shirt off, listening to his breathing and heartbeat as first his abdomen then chest then shoulders were revealed. He couldn’t help the chuckle at Xander’s increase in heartbeat, the short ragged breaths, the pungent scent of pheromones in the air, it was all adding to the heady brew, making Spike ache. Tomorrow… it’s gonna be so sweet pup. Gonna make you mine, gonna make it so you can’t ever get away.

He hissed in a breath when Xander’s scent was permeated and almost overpowered by pure terror. It was divine, delicious, and Spike wanted to eat him up. The boy was down to Spike’s pants, fingers shaking and trembling. Spike watched the human’s tongue sneak out to quickly moisten his soft full lips, obviously stalling, trying to bully himself up for the challenge. Fear poured off him in waves, tantalizing Spike. The boy didn’t know he was safe from the vampire’s attentions for this night, as far as he knew Spike was going to finish the claim right now.

Before Spike could give a warning growl Xander finally fingered the button fly. The human took a deep breath and popped it open with his thumb, fighting to keep his eyes open, obviously wanting to close them tight and deny what was happening. Spike crooned wordless praise, the back of his cool hand stroking a heated cheek, feeling his erection slowly get freed from its denim prison. The feel of cool air against the dripping slit added its own delightful sensation to the proceedings, but still Spike felt the heat radiating off the boy, a living furnace.

That was precisely when things went sideways.

Xander suddenly pulled Spike’s pants harshly down to his knees, socked him in the jaw, and made a run for it.

Spike spun from the blow and landed more or less comfortably onto the rug. So that’s why he was scared. Bloody whelp was planning an escape! Spike chuckled and tugged his pants off, getting easily to his feet. Cheeky git, he thought, a lascivious smirk on his face. He still had his spirit, still had hope, still thought there was a chance he’d get out of this safely and in one piece… Kinda cute, really. Endearing like.

With silent grace he ran after Xander, easily catching up to him and keeping him in sight. Not once did Xander spot him, even though he was madly looking behind him for pursuit at regular intervals. Spike found a spot in the shadows to hide and watch the show…

Xander stopped his mad dash towards freedom a few meters past the door to take stock of his surroundings, pick a direction to run in. That was when he noticed they were in the middle of the desert, flat sand in every direction for miles without anything larger than a small scattering of desert plants here and there. The moon was high in the sky, painting everything in it’s icy brilliance. There was nowhere to run, or to get help from, not a soul in sight, the only thing that seemed out of place was the white ribbon running the perimeter of the property, other than the property itself which had its own flavor of weird.

Xander frowned and crouched low to the ground to take a closer look at it. It seemed to be a normal fabric ribbon about five inches wide and nailed to the dry packed earth with railroad spikes. Xander couldn’t help snorting and rolling his eyes, the ribbon seemed to be nothing more than a blatant territory claim. Wonder if he pisses on it like a dog? Xander snerked at the mental image of Spike on all fours, lifting his leg to piddle his scent on his territory borders, but then Xander’s inner eye kept going, showing Spike crawling towards him, sinewy grace, a predators smile, demon eyes flashing, fangs dripping blood... Okay, maybe panther, not dog, panthers scent mark too, right?

Xander looked back behind him, at the beautiful three story Victorian inspired red brick building with every window heavily shuttered, at the lush green grass void of any weed and trimmed evenly to the perfect length coming to the edge of the ribbon, at the large trees with dark green leaves dancing in the night breeze. It was quite a nice home, now that Xander was looking at it. It was skillfully maintained, well cared for and beautifully designed, like some perfect oasis in the middle of a parched desert.

He didn’t know why he was hesitating, he should just start walking, getting as far away from here as possible, he’d find something eventually… but he was hesitating. He felt an odd sense of foreboding, like something bad was going to happen. For once, he understood what the term “it’s too quiet” meant. No one was chasing him, Spike had to have gotten up by now, he hadn’t hit him THAT hard, and he always had minions and that loopy psychotic psychic around him… so why was there no one chasing him? So… he hesitated.

Finally he got back up to his feet, casting another wary glance about him, then swallowed, gritted his teeth, and stepped over the white line. His world exploded into pain. It pulsed through him, starting at his neck and working it’s way down to his toes, then halting for a few seconds before starting up all over again, intense agony that dropped him gasping to his hands and knees, his throat convulsing and slamming shut against his control

When he fell, he landed back on the other side of the line, and the pain abruptly stopped, it didn’t take Xander long to put two and two together. He was gasping for breath, heart thudding painfully in his chest, every hair on his body standing on end. He’d felt that kind of pain before, when he’d touched an electric fence at his aunt’s farm, just not quite that intense. Suddenly he remembered the collar, and scrabbled his fingers at it, trying to get it off but as soon as he felt the lock, knowing it was futile. He couldn’t find a battery pack, but it was the only thing that could have shocked him, he wasn’t wearing anything else, and wasn’t THAT something he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten.

Finally he got his body under control and sat up, scowling at that pristine white ribbon stretched taut on the ground… and got up, staring down at it in defiance. He understood now, why no one was coming after him, because he had no where to go. Xander frowned, thinking hard, maybe if he made a running jump he’d get past the invisible fence and beyond the range of the stupid collar…. He chewed his lower lip pondering his chances. He already knew how to stop the pain, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t felt pain before, he’d survive… as long as the electrical current didn’t kill him first…

He backed up a few paces, hesitated and backed up several more; if he was going to take a running jump he’d need to build up speed. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, then another because the first didn’t work, then another again, letting it out in a soft defeated moan when he realized his nerves just didn’t want to be steady. He shook his head, then his hands, and ran for the border as fast as he could before he changed his mind. He jumped.

When he crossed that border in mid-flight, he felt the pain start. The further he got from the white line, the greater the intensity of his pain. When he landed, he was spazzing about so much he landed on his face, splitting his lip and making his nose bleed. His body was so out of his control from the pain that he loosed his bladder and would have done the same to his bowels if they had had anything in them.

It took him several minutes of twitching and crawling and screaming now and again with pain but the intensity was smoothly tapering off the closer he got to the ribbon. When he finally crossed back over the border, he collapsed, sobbing openly in pain and misery. How was he supposed to escape when he couldn’t even cross the stupid border?

He didn’t hear Spike move to stand over him, didn’t even know he was there till Spike spoke, “You can’t leave pet. No one knows where we are. This place is shielded from scrying an’ satellite imagery, even plain sight. Can scream loud as you want, no one will ever hear you. Now, you know there’s no point trying to get away anymore, yeah?”

Spike reached down and pulled Xander up to his feet by his hair, listening to the human yelp and struggle futilely before he forcibly arched the human’s neck. He placed a soft kiss on the bite mark, fangs itching to descend and part that sweet flesh once more, but he held back. He licked the droplets of tears falling from Xander’s eyes until he stopped shedding them, which was pretty much instantaneous.

“You taste so good pet… so full of despair, fear, need,” Spike breathed deeply of his scent. “You’re mine, inside an’ out, body an’ soul…” he chuckled darkly when Xander started to struggle against his hold. Spike moaned low in his throat and rubbed his erection against Xander’s squirming body, crooning softly in his ear, “That’s it boy… rub yourself against me…” He pouted when Xander stopped his struggles, but couldn’t stop his trembling.

NAKED SPIKE!!!! Spike is NAKED. Why is he NAKED and outside? Shouldn’t nakedness be INSIDE? Far far away from me? Just… not here. And I’m naked. And he’s naked… does this mean he wants us naked together? Not that we aren’t together, right now, outside, and NAKED, but in the other together way, because I so cannot do that, or let him do that, or… do that.

“Go on then dead boy, kill me! Go ahead!” Xander tried to push away from Spike, but the vampire’s grip was firm.

“Not gonna kill you puppy, got way too many plans for you…”

Part Five

Spike led him back to the house on a leash. He’d fought at first, but Spike just dragged him on with his unfair vampire strength, uncaring that Xander was choking himself. With all his struggling he failed to watch his footing, and fell hard on the lawn with a yelp. The lush grass kept him from bruising his knees, but Spike didn’t let up his hold. He waited impatiently, snarling a soft warning when Xander didn’t scramble to his feet fast enough. Once the boy was standing once more, Spike snapped the lead tight and pulled the now unresisting Xander inside the house. Obviously can be taught, can’t he? He’ll be curled up at my feet soon enough, just have to work him along.

He shot a sideways glance down Xander’s naked body, drinking in the sight and making up his mind about certain things, ideas blooming in his mind’s eye. He had a couple of tweaks in mind to help bring out every asset the boy had, and he enjoyed the mental imagery of what clothing he could dress him in, a living human doll. His Dark Princess used to like to be his doll, but she’d been gone so often lately, he thought with a silent sigh, he no longer had anyone to play with.

That was probably why she’d sent him out, he decided, a temporary distraction until whatever it was that plagued her dreams left her in peace enough to come back to him. He’d been woken so many times in the night to her soft moans and whimpers, her face vamping out and smoothing to human repeatedly, her fear swamping his senses. He’d hold her, soothing and rocking and petting, murmuring words of comfort and safety into her hair. After a while, her scent would change, fear blossoming to arousal wafting in slow sweet tendrils. She’d whimper and moan, pressing herself against him until it drove him wild. He never refused her attentions, ever attendant to her needs, his perfect dark plum…

She told him they were portents, something about reindeer and chocolate and something about a demon touched warrior, coming to sever his ties with a priceless treasure. Spike didn’t understand what she was babbling about, but he rarely did until it was relevant, he was sure these glimpses would aid him when the time came. Meanwhile, she would feel restless, unable to sleep until she fully understood the dreams, it had happened before and would happen again, but she always came back to him after the fishes had stopped screaming or whatever it was this time.

In the mean time, it was time to start working on his new pet…


Xander was suspended upside down and spread eagled in the middle of a spacious shower. Chains led from his cuffs to two strategically placed hooks in the ceiling and a matched pair on the floor, part of the set that adorned the room from floor to ceiling. He tried to wiggle his ankles in their cuffs, but that just made his finger tips slip on the slick tile and pain shot up through his legs to his widely held hips. He couldn’t hold back the soft whimpers and gasps of pain every time he jerked himself in the chains. Stupid vampire with his stupid chains in his stupidly huge shower and his stupi-wait what?

Warmth. Something almost painfully warm was being spread and pressed around the skin between his balls and his hole, and wow that was warm and, “Wait, what the-” A warning growl from behind him shut him up quickly.

“We’ve had this talk pet, Sir or Master, could even call me your Lord if you wanted, but always with respect, yeah?” He spoke with a distracted tone, picking up a piece of muslin cloth and pressing it to the heated sugaring solution on the human’s skin. When he ripped it off Xander let out a quick and startled yelp, which he ignored, he was too intent on looking over the skin for any further hair.

“What the hel- I mean, OW! Sir! OW! What’re you… what’s- OW!!!!” Spike had continued further down his crack, painfully ripping out body hair from the roots in a calm and methodical manner.

“I’m waxin’ you, you don’t need it an’ I don’t like it on you,” Spike replied calmly, working over his arse cheeks after making sure he got all the coarse hairs around his anus.

Xander started struggling in earnest, “N..No thanks, I like my hair where it is, you can just stop now, OW! What’re you gonna do? Make me bal-OW! OW! What part of OW is hard for you to-OW!!!!”

Spike growled softly and slapped the tender skin of Xander’s inner thigh, raising a dark red handprint from the pale flesh and making the boy scream. “Respect, whelp, you’re gonna have to learn it. Now you have a choice,” Spike stepped back to look at the tear filled brown eyes, “Can either be gagged and possibly choke on your own spit, or you can shut the bloody hell up! I like the moans an’ whimpers, ‘s why you weren’t gagged from the start, but your prattlin’ on is makin’ me regret that decision!” He raised a single scarred eyebrow and looked down at him, Xander flushed and bit his lips together. “Good boy…”


Almost two hours later Xander was strung up face up and horizontally while Spike rubbed a soothing liniment into the reddened skin. It tingled faintly, but quickly numbed the flaming heat. Spike had removed every scrap of his body hair, even trimmed and sculpted his eyebrows, removed his facial hair, arms, legs, back, everywhere. His cool fingers worked the liniment into his skin, massaging abused and tensed muscles.

Xander tried to fight against the gentle touch, the soothing and cooling caresses that weren’t making little Xan perky, nope, not at all. He wasn’t hard and drooling, and even if he was it was just because he was being touched… and stroked… and massaged… and and… wow that feels nice now that the hair ripping pain is over.

“There we are, my little pup. All nice an’ smooth, every bit of hair whipped off. No worries, they won’t be growin’ back,” Spike wasn’t even sure Xander was listening; he seemed rather pre-occupied and distracted at the moment. His newly bought slave was unconsciously leaning into every touch and caress, soft whimpers spilling from his lips now and again. So responsive once we get past his barriers, all malleable and sweet…

“Been a good boy, such a good boy. All of this is new and strange and scary, an’ you’re doing so well. You’ll get a treat if you keep this up. You want a treat, don’t you? Something you’ll treasure an’ love… just keep being a good boy like this. You’ll get it…”

Xander drifted in a half awake haze, pain a long distant memory, cool soothing fingers and ointment taking the sting away, leaving him limp and relaxed. He felt like he was floating in a spice scented haze, pain a distant memory. Every time he breathed in the scent of the liniment he felt himself relax further, the stresses of his ordeal melting away. He knew it was wrong, feeling so safe at the hands of a mass murderer, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care.

A soft murmuring breached his conscious mind and when he finally registered what Spike was saying he suddenly started to cry. He couldn’t help it. Praise… he was being given praise. As sick and twisted as it was, he couldn’t help but respond. He’d wanted praise ever since he’d seen Willow get it from the teacher, it had made her smile and her face light up and she had looked so happy, he wanted that too. He’d tried and tried and tried but never seemed to succeed. He failed in school, his mother had abandoned him for months on end, leaving him with his father who never ever found anything of value in him.
Your mother should have swallowed that load you punk assed brat, I’ll show you what it is to be sorry!
No, dad, please, don’t please don’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, please dad, no!

How he’d fought for it, begged for it, worked and pleaded and nearly killed himself for it, time and time again, and the only one who had ever given it to him was a murderous vampire who wanted him as a puppy.

Vampires bad, right. Vampires evil, right… but what about the ones that treat me better than my family, even with all the humiliation and pain and nakedness. What about the ones that know I’m there and actually care what I’m doing, what I’m wearing, what I’m… that I’m still here. He wants me here, doesn’t want me to leave… I’ve never had anyone actually want me around, not like this, not… really.

He hung in the air, suspended in his chains, and started to wonder if it really was that much worse than being at home. At least here… someone noticed him. At least here… someone wanted him.

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