Lessons
The room was hot, filled to the extreme capacity with hormonal teenagers. Angelus paced the floor, watching them sway to the rhythm of the music. He kept a watchful eye on his mate, Buffy, who was dancing with one of her former classmates. Tonight he was training her. She was to pick a popular student from her school and dance with him. Afterwards, she would lure him outside and Angelus would strike.
He had been feeding her only his blood for the past few weeks. Slowly, her soul was dying and her demon was taking control.
In the harsh lighting of The Bronze, it wasn’t hard for a vampire to watch every movement of every body. Cameron, the chosen boy, was slowly sliding his hands down Buffy’s back. Too far. Angelus growled underneath his breath. No human could have picked it up, but all of the other vampires did. Four of them stopped what they were doing and bolted outside. They knew when their master was angered, and they didn’t feel like dying tonight. Again.
Buffy raised her head to meet his intense gaze. She flashed him a sexy smile and turned to Cameron. "Let’s go somewhere more...private," she said, running a hand down his chest. Cameron grinned, barely believing his luck. The Slayer pulled him by his hand out of the door and into an alley.
Cameron was trying to act like a pro. "So, do you want it fast or do you want it slow?" he asked, clearly invading her personal bubble.
Buffy glanced over his shoulder and saw Angelus approaching rapidly behind them. His footsteps made no sound on the pavement. She moved closer to Cameron, if that was at all possible, and pulled his head down to hers for a kiss. After only a moment, she heard a predatory snarl and Cameron was yanked away.
Cameron gasped with disbelief as a fist was slammed into his face, effectively breaking his nose and loosening a few teeth. "Don’t," a voice snarled, punching him again. "Ever. Touch. My. Girl!" With each word, he was brutally beaten, and with the last one, his neck was snapped. Angelus dropped him to the ground where he lay unmoving.
He snarled as his head came up to face Buffy. She bit her bottom lip and backed away a few steps. She didn’t like the look he was giving her. "You’ll be punished!" he said, advancing on her.
Buffy shook her head, "I did what you said."
Angelus caught her by the arms and leaned his face only inches from hers. "Never ever kiss anyone but me. Don’t let them touch you like he did."
"You can’t tell me what to do!" Buffy argued back. She was getting tired of his macho overprotective crap. He was worse than Angel!
Angelus grabbed her chin roughly and held it in place. "I will always tell you what to do. You’re mine, slayer, you belong to me and I own you," he said those words with an eerie calmness in his voice. "I made you."
His tone sent a shiver up her spine and she was momentarily afraid of him. She tried to back away, but he held her in place. "Let me go."
"No, you need your punishment." Angelus picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. He swiftly walked in the direction of their home.
All of the vampires stayed in an old mansion on Crawford Street. Angelus, of course, was the master, and Buffy his mistress. Spike and Drusilla also reigned with them, but where not nearly as strong as the other two were together. Spike was glad that Angelus had a new mate, it took his attention off of his own. Drusilla, however, was less than ecstatic. The Slayer took her sire’s attention away from her, and that was strictly unforgivable.
Angelus practically pulled Buffy into the mansion, his footsteps echoing hollowly on the walls. "You’re way overreacting," Buffy said, trying to pull free.
Spike heard the duo from a mile away, Buffy’s whining complaints and the occasional growl from Angelus. From what he could tell, Buffy was going to have her hide tanned.
"Hey, mate," Spike greeted, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, as Angelus dragged Buffy towards their private quarters. Buffy threw him a glare, but didn’t have a chance to reply. She was being pulled along too quickly.
When they reached the room, Buffy was practically thrown on the bed. Angelus yanked open the lid to his wooden chest and shuffled through it. He grabbed a black duffel bag and threw in some supplies. On the bed, Buffy watched with frightened curiosity. A box of matches, a cross, vials of holy water, a bag of garlic, shackles, a knife, a whip, and a few other items.
He closed the bag, hefted it over his shoulder, grabbed Buffy’s hand, and pulled her out the door.
Spike looked up with more amusement in his eyes as Angelus again pulled Buffy across the room towards the stairs to the basement. Buffy had a chance to stick her tongue out at him this time, which only made him burst into a fit of laughter.
They descended the dark steps to the makeshift dungeon below. She had seen Angelus, Drusilla, and a few of the others go in and out, but she never had. For one, Buffy had never wanted to come here, where they tortured humans. There was also the fact that Angelus had strictly forbid her to go near the door. She wrinkled her nose as the stench of death hit her.
She was taken far into the basement, into another room. Angelus again threw her down, this time onto the cold floor. Once the door was securely locked, he opened his bag and pulled out the shackles. They were on a long chain. "I can’t believe you’re doing this," Buffy said. "I barely even touched the guy."
He didn’t answer her. Instead, he attached the shackles by the chain in the middle to a peg on the wall. Buffy stood up as Angelus came towards her again. Tired of him yanking her around, she walked to the wall by herself. The shackles were cold against her wrists as Angelus tightened them on her. She tested them, and found she wouldn’t be able to get away without breaking her wrists. "I hope you have the fucking key," she muttered.
Before she even realized what was happening, the flat palm of his hand connected with her cheek. "Silence!" he exclaimed. Buffy narrowed her eyes. He was so going to pay for that, but for now she kept quiet.
She watched as he pulled all of the items from the bag and set them carefully on a small table. He was ready. "I’m going to make you scream," he whispered to her, fingering the knife. He approached slowly, savoring the hint of fear in her eyes. But he saw more than fear. There was passion, lust, desire, and hatred.
He took the tip of the knife and traced her jawbone. He then proceeded by slitting the straps of her halter top and cutting the front open. He did the same to her bra. The tattered clothing fell to the ground. Buffy bit her tongue to keep from crying out. That was an expensive shirt! Her skirt was pushed down her legs, and was saved from the sharp blade of the knife. Angelus grinned when he saw that was all she had been wearing.
"You know what I like," he told her, tracing patterns into her skin with the knife. It had a shiny, silver tip and was heavy in his hand. He was careful not to cut her. Not quite yet. Instead, he set down the knife and picked up the vile of holy water.
Buffy squirmed away from him as best she could, but it didn’t help. "Tell me when it hurts," Angelus told her, watching her eyes intently. He opened the vile and poured a few drops onto her right arm.
Buffy gasped but did not scream. It burned like steaming hot water, but unlike water, the burning spread through her entire body. It shook her and continued to snake through her veins until it cooled down. And that was only a few drops.
Angelus held the vile for her to see. It was still almost completely full. He splashed the rest of the contents onto her smooth stomach, causing her to moan loudly. The pain was almost unbearable. She balled her hands into fists and waited for the burning to cease. "Oh, God," she gasped.
"He can’t help you now."
"Then who can?" she asked, regaining her composure.
"I can," he told her, discarding the empty vile and reaching for the next tool.
Buffy snickered. "And how are you going to do that? Last time I checked, you were the one with all the little goodies."
Angelus held up the box of matches. "I’m helping you by teaching you." He drew out a single match and struck it against the wall. He held it inches away from her face and watched as it burned. Buffy stayed still. If she moved at all in any direction, the flame would burn her flesh. Right before it burned out, Angelus tossed it against her arm.
Buffy flinched with the slight pain. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the holy water, but it left larger marks. "You’ve never been tortured before, have you?" Angelus asked casually.
"It’s never really held that much appeal to me."
"Does it now?" he asked.
Buffy smiled. "Depends on how you finish."
The next instrument picked up was the whip. It was small, probably used for humans, she thought. Angelus tested it against the wall. Buffy jumped at the loud sound. She was definitely not looking forward to this.
He whipped her legs first, hard. When he moved on to her abdomen she could tell he was being more careful. She almost screamed when he hit the wall again, inches from her face. He turned her around, which was difficult with the shackles in the way. He struck her repeatedly on the back and on her ass.
"Fuck! That hurts!" she said, morphing into her game face.
"Good," he rasped, hitting her again.
"I think you’ve made your point, many times. I’ll never ever kiss anyone but you," she said, panting.
Angelus set the whip down and turned her to face him. Stepping closer, he rubbed up against her. She could tell by the bulge in his leather pants how much he was enjoying this. He placed an arm on either side of her head. "Who do you belong to?"
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "I belong to myself."
Angelus shook his head. "Wrong answer." He reached down and unzipped his pants, stepping out of them. He had already taken off his shoes, Buffy noticed. She watched with anticipation. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, either.
"I think I like this torture thing, after all," Buffy said.
Angelus smirked. "Who do you belong to?" he asked again, more firmly this time.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "I’m my own person, or rather, vampire. I belong to myself."
"Hmmm," Angelus said, discarding his shirt as well. He rubbed up against her again.
"Mmmm," Buffy said, closing her eyes.
He kissed her neck, nibbling slightly on the skin that was there. He trailed down to her breasts, tracing the tip of his tongue around one nipple, but not quite touching it. "Wrong again," he told her, finally suckling on the hardened nipple.
"It was a good answer," Buffy replied, pushing her pelvis into his. He was almost right where she needed him, just a little closer...
He pushed her against the wall again, and positioned himself just at her entrance. Only the tip of him was sheathed in her heat, not nearly enough. She tried to push him further, deeper, but he steadied her.
Angelus drew his head up and stared her straight in the eyes. "Who do you belong to?" he asked, anger in his voice. This was the worst kind of torture. The needing and wanting of another who would only subject if you gave them what they wanted first.
"No," she moaned, her frustration building up. She was aching for him, her muscles clenching against each other, craving for the cool hardness of him. It was painful.
‘Yes," he told her, swallowing hard. He was trying desperately to stay strong. It was hard with the small body practically shaking against him.
"You!" she shouted out. "I belong to you," she gave up, needing him too badly. She was breaking under his intense gaze.
Angelus wasted no time in filling her to the core. He sighed in contentment. Even in death, she was always hot, tight, and wet.
Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper. Angelus braced his hands against the wall. He pulled out slightly, then slammed back in, emitting a slight growl from his lover.
The pain was entirely gone, and only the pleasure existed in their small world consisting only of them. Nothing else mattered when they were together as one. It didn’t matter that she was still a slayer at heart, or that he was the most vicious vampire ever born. It didn’t take long before they both reached their peak together and simultaneously climaxed. Buffy had never felt more complete then when he was inside her. Angelus had never felt more satisfied. Over two centuries of whores and lovers didn’t even begin to compare with his slayer.
As they drifted back into reality, Buffy realized her hands were still chained to the wall. "I can’t believe it," Angelus murmured.
"What?" Buffy asked.
"I’m in love with a slayer."
Buffy grinned. "And I’m in love with the scourge of Europe."
Angelus pulled away and brought out the key to undo her wrists. "So what’s on the agenda for this week?" Buffy asked, trying to find some clothing she could wear. She settled for the shirt Angelus had worn. It was big on her.
"A new demon’s coming into town, Acathla. I figured we steal it, open it, and raise hell. Literally."
Buffy grinned, sidling up to him. "Sounds promising."
The End