Erinys

Home : Stories by Author : Stories by Laure Alexander : Erinys

Summary: Set after Tabula Rasa, I began this over a year ago, with the belief that Willow was going evil a lot faster than she actually did in Season 6. Here, she believes the root of all the problems with the gang and Buffy are Spike's fault, so she decides to take her fury out on him. Spike POV

AUTHOR: Laure Alexander
EMAIL: lara@sunflower.com
RATING: NC-17, BDSM, Whipping, Sexual Torture.
PAIRINGS: Willow/Spike
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters on the show. Joss Whedon and the WB Network own them (for now). No copyright infringement intended, so please don't sue.
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Fire. It can burn without destroying. Created by anger, it can erupt from within and lash across the world.

If you're powerful enough.

She burns with fury.

And she's taking me down with her.

Over a hundred years old and I've never felt such fury. And I'm still a little muddled as to why it's directed at me.

The pain brought me awake about ten minutes ago. I don't know where I am, but I know I'm not getting out of here anytime soon. Magically enhanced chains suspend me in the air from nothing. My toes barely touch cold cement floor. The strain on my shoulders is already painful.

First my shoulders will dislocate, then the tendons will tear, then my neck will break.

None of it will kill me.

But...I'll want it to.

Wherever I am--some warehouse or basement somewhere-- is dark, but there's one spot of light.

It surrounds her like flames. It comes from inside her.

And it's dark. Dark light created from fury and hatred. Emotions with which I'm intimate, but ones I never associated with her. Twisted by her power, or her power twisted by them, she's deadly.

And I'm her target.

"You want to know why you're here," she hisses softly. I hear her approaching, gliding across the floor, her skirts brushing the hard concrete. I take a shuddering breath as I try to figure out how to get out of this.

I really don't want her touching me.

It's gonna hurt...bad.

A loud snap of her fingers and my clothes shred from my body, the material ripping into my skin, leaving thin, bleeding marks and blossoming bruises. Cold air hits my naked flesh, and I flinch.

Light flares, candles flickering to life around the room, as she takes another step closer and the rot now illuminated in her eyes makes me sway backwards.

I've seen evil. I *am* evil.

But she is barely contained fury.

And she's beginning to erupt.

God help us all.

"It's all your fault," she murmurs, another snap of her fingers bringing a bull whip to her hand. As she fondles the supple leather, she continues, "Your influence, your presence in our group. We were the good guys before you came around, sniffing after her, corrupting her and through her all of us."

That makes no sense, but I'm not about to mention that to the whip-holding woman standing in front of me. I like pain to an extent, but I don't think any of this is going to lead to pleasure.

"Oh, you're wrong." Her sibilant voice sends a shiver through me. "There's a point where it hurts so much the moments between the pain become pleasure."

"And you know this how?" I bite out before I can stop myself.

She smiles, and I feel my stomach turn.

When did she turn? When did she slip past the light into such evil?

Helpless, I watch as she unfurls the whip and cracks it expertly. I don't want to think about where she got the practice.

What poor soul she tortured to gain that expertise.

The next crack of the whip is across my chest and I fling my head back to stare at the ceiling as agony roars through me. The fire burns in the mark, and blood slips down my body, making my nose twitch.

I'm going to lose a lot of blood before she's through.

If she's ever through.

She circles behind me and I draw a shuddering breath, trying to prepare myself. The whip falls again, across my already aching shoulders and I hiss. I've had harder blows, more powerful and violent, but I'm amazed at her strength.

Must be magic.

The whip continues to rain down on me, cutting deeply, and setting my back on fire. I can feel blood flowing from the shredded wounds, the scent almost overpowering the scent of twisted magic.

She reeks of it.

And it's turning my stomach more than the pain.

She walks back around in front of me and runs her eyes over my pale body. The lash mark on my chest is already healing and she lightly traces it with one scarlet fingernail. At the tail end of the mark, she maliciously digs her nail into the wound until fresh blood flows. I can't help but groan at the burst of pain.

"What's the matter, Spike? I thought demons got off on pain?" Her eyes drop down my chest, and her fingers wrap around my limp dick. "Shouldn't you be enjoying this more?" A hard twist sends agony through me and I bite deeply into my lip to hold in my cries. "Maybe I should just rip this off. It's the root of all evil, and *I* have no use for it."

Lying bitch. I can smell her arousal and it's not just from beating the shit out of me. Touching me is turning her on. I knew she still liked cock. Wonder if that's why the earth mother dumped her?

Her hand relaxes, sliding up and down, and my traitorous prick begins to harden. Dimly I wonder what she's up to, then my mind goes blank with sudden lust, and I reach full erection. As I open my mouth to offer to fuck her, she snaps her fingers again and a full leather cock sheath appears in it. Before I can protest, she has my cock encased, the zipper digging uncomfortably into my sensitive flesh as its squeezed tightly within unyielding leather. A tight ring goes around my balls, pulling them up until I hiss, and my cock throbs in pain.

As she releases it, I gape down at my now black erection bouncing painfully off my flat stomach.

"There, much better. You're led around by your dick, Spike. Don't think you're going to get to use it with me."

Taking the whip, she lashes me hard across the chest again, the tip flicking against my chin. Crying out in surprise, I jerk my head back to avoid another blow to my face. I don't want her to get the idea of plucking my eyes out or something.

Forcing myself to remain still and quiet, I draw the pain inside myself as she beats my chest until it's a bloody mass of wounds.

Somewhere around the fiftieth blow, I pass out.

*****

When consciousness returns--and with it the searing pain-- I'm on my knees, my arms pulled tightly up behind me. One of my shoulders is out of its socket, and I gasp helplessly at the pulsing agony from torn muscles. A glance down shows me that my chest is nearly healed.

How long have I been out?

Through unwanted tears, I see her approach. The whip has been exchanged for a riding crop. Beneath her long skirt, she's added the boots to match.

"I'm disappointed in you, Spike," she coos in a sickeningly sweet voice. "You passed out so quickly. Surely your dark whore used to beat you much longer and harder than little me."

One foot lifts and nudges my restrained balls. My breath catches in my throat, as I await the kick, but it doesn't come. Instead, the toe of her boot begins to caress me. Even through the double layers of leather, I can feel her heat.

Gasping with need, I stare blankly up into her glittering eyes.

The tip of the crop taps my chin, then slips across my lips, and, without even thinking, I flick my tongue out and taste the leather. I can see her eyes widen in surprise, then she smirks as evilly as Angelus ever did, and the crop cracks across my mouth, cutting my lips to shreds.

As a scream erupts from my chest and blood spills down my chin, I watch helplessly as she drops the crop and pulls up her skirt.

She's nude beneath it, the dark red curls between her legs soaked with lust, her lips swollen and dark pink. Her clitoris is a hard button, pushed out from its hood, demanding attention.

One of her hands wraps around the back of my head and she jerks me forward, smashing my face into her mound. Groaning as her salty fluids exacerbate my wounded lips, I begin to lick and suck, running my tongue up and down her cleft, swirling the tip around her clit, nuzzling into her until she cries out with pleasure.

I hope that pleasing her will bring a respite from the pain.

It's a dim hope.

Fingers tightening in my hair, she moves me, fucking herself against my face. I can feel her thighs begin to tremble against my cheeks and I fasten my lips around her clit, suckling hard. With a sharp cry, she comes, her release spilling over my lips and chin as she bucks hard against me. I lick gently, bringing her down.

Finally, she releases me and staggers back. A hard boot lashes against my chest and I sway backwards in the chains, then scream as my other shoulder separates.

"Pig."

*****

I don't sleep--too much hunger, too much pain--but I endure in a dazed state for a long time, alone, in the darkened room.

Finally, the candles light again, and I blink past the tears in my eyes to watch her enter the room. In one hand she carries a bottle of blood. In the other, a small crossbow.

With a nod of her head, the manacles around my wrists release and I fall, cracking my chin on the cement floor. My arms are useless and throb with renewed pain.

"I should leave you like this, helpless. What would happen if your shoulders healed out of their sockets, Spike?" she asks, her voice dark and cruel.

"...Please," I whisper, all pride gone. I would truly be helpless. Unable to do anything for myself.

I've been there before, bound to a wheelchair, unable to prevent my empire from sliding into my grandsire's hands.

Along with Dru.

I see the bottle placed before me on the floor, then she grabs my hair and jerks me back to my knees. Her empty hand moves over my left shoulder and I feel it settle back into the socket, causing momentary pain, and then my fingers begin to tingle. Carefully I flex them, then look up at her hesitantly.

"I don't want you dead yet. Feed."

Reaching for the bottle, I drain it quickly, not even minding that it's cold and animal. My strength begins to return, but before I can even formulate a plan to escape, an iron collar chokes me, the foot-long chain attached to a bolt in the floor dragging down my head.

"Oh, I like this. Prostrated before me."

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her circling me, and I wince as she nudges my right shoulder with the toe of her boot. The leather runs slowly down my side, then across the back of my thigh, before tapping against my ass.

"Yes, lots of possibilities here," she murmurs, then I can hear her walking away. She's not gone long, though, and when she returns, she steps into the small gap between my legs and forces them apart.

A chill goes through me and I squeeze my eyes shut. She can't possibly mean to...

"I've read about vampires and sex, Spike," she hisses softly. "I bet you've been in this position a lot." One of her knees brushes across the cleft between my cheeks, and I almost cry out at the heat, then she's moving quickly around to crouch before me.

Except for the boots and a short black camisole, she's nude, but it's not her slender beauty that I focus on, but the very large, hard, and nubby vibrator in her hand.

It's not hers. I can smell another on it.

The Slayer.

"Yeah, it's Buffy's. It's the closest you're going to get to her pussy, Spike, believe me."

She flips the switch and the plastic tube begins to purr in her hand. "Imagine what she does with this, drawing it down her body, between her legs, sliding it over her clit, before pushing it inside herself. Imagine those muscles clamping down, as she pumps herself on it, moaning and whimpering as the pleasure builds..."

Growling, I lash out with my good hand as my bound cock throbs hungrily and a red haze of lust covers my mind.

Giggling, she backs away from me and then rises to circle behind me again. I can feel her kneel between my spread legs, pushing them wider, and then her hot hand is between my cheeks.

"Such a little hole. Such a big vibrator. This is gonna hurt."

With one hard thrust it's inside me, tearing me, and though I manage to bite back a cry, tears spill from my eyes. Unlike a real cock, this fake thing is hard and unyielding, stretching me too far too quickly, the rough nubs rubbing painfully against my tender tissues.

What's worse are the vibrations going straight through my prostate to my cock and building the need for release. A release I can't reach bound as I am.

"You want to come, don't you," she whispers malevolently as she pumps that horrible thing in and out of my bleeding hole. "Even though it must hurt, your cock is hard as a rock, isn't it."

"...Yes," I howl, my body twisting back onto the tool she wields with expertise and fury in equal measures.

"Tough," she grunts, driving the vibrator deeper into my bowels, making me shake from head to foot.

Then she leaves.

"No....NO!"

*****

I can't get it out. The end, barely sticking from me, is slick with my blood and my trembling fingers can't find purchase around it. The vibrations are driving me insane. My cock is past the point of pain into white heat. I can barely see from the tears in my eyes. My voice is hoarse from screaming.

It's been inside me, pulsing against my prostate, for what must be hours.

I can't take much more.

*****

When she finally removes the thing, I scream again, this time in relief. I collapse, only to land on my erect cock, which brings another scream as I manage to turn half onto my side and curl into the fetal position as best I can.

"Poor, poor Spike."

I can hear the smirk in her voice, and I shake in horror.

I don't know if I can take whatever comes next.

Angelus used to chain me up for days, even weeks, leaving me hard and unfilled, fucking me whenever he wanted, beating me, starving me.

Why is this little human girl breaking me?

I think...it's because she's human. She's human, yet as sadistic as any demon. What was expected from my grandsire, is unacceptable from her.

She has a soul and she's torturing me.

And, worse, I'm too deeply caught by the memories of her sweetness, her spunky attitude, her quiet beauty, the light that shone in her.

All gone now, and probably never to return.

I should celebrate her descent into evil, but all I can do is mourn the loss of her light.

The fire burning so darkly within her is going to destroy us all.

The collar disappears from around my neck and I curl tighter into a ball, my one shoulder still useless and now only numb, my hole throbbing in pain in time with my dick.

I can sense her crouching next to me, but I just squeeze my eyes shut tighter. When her fingers touch my forehead, they're almost gentle, and I shiver away from them.

"I had planned to kill you, to rid us of your corruption," she began, conversationally, "But, you have some uses, and you cry so prettily."

Her hand cups my chin and she jerks my head up. My eyes blink open unwillingly and I flinch from her smile.

The evil in her is even more pronounced when she smiles.

"Do you want to come?" she coos.

Is this a trick?

Doesn't matter. I can't stop myself from nodding and whispering hoarsely, "Yes."

A snap of her fingers and another collar appears around my throat, this one attached to a chain the other end of which she holds in her hand. Almost gently she tugs until I'm back on my knees and she's on her feet, looking down on me.

I swallow hard.

"If you can remove the sheath with your one good hand, you can bring yourself off."

Panting harshly, I fumble with the snap and zipper, freeing my balls first and then working on the leather sheath, not even caring as the zipper bites into my overly swollen flesh. A look shows me that my cock is dark red, as if all the blood in my body is imprisoned within it.

I'm so weak, it probably is.

Swallowing hard again, knowing this is going to hurt, I fling away the leather stained with pre-cum, and wrap my fingers around the tip of my cock.

One stroke is all it takes, and I'm sobbing as my cum spills across my hand to drip on the floor, my hips pumping my cock harder against my palm, draining it of too-long denied release.

As relief floods me along with nausea, I try to collapse, only to feel a tug around my neck. My knees crack against the hard floor, but I crawl as quickly as I can on one hand, leaving drips of semen and blood behind me. There's a bed in one corner of the large room, and candles flare to life around it.

Still holding onto the leash, she lays back on the bed, spreading her legs, then she tugs on the chain again.

"Make it good, asshole, or that will be the last orgasm you ever have."

Crawling quickly onto the bed, I settle between her legs and bury my face in her muff, licking hungrily, desperately wanting to please her. Her legs wrap around my head and she begins to squeeze, but I don't need to breathe, so I stiffen my tongue and stab it inside her as my nose rubs back and forth across her clit.

As I taste her, hot and sweet, my dick, still aching from the abuse, swells again, and I whimper, knowing it will be some time before I get to come again. Instead I concentrate on the sounds of her pleasure as she moans and her body twists beneath my mouth.

Suddenly she pulls away from me, and as I gasp and try to raise my head, I'm flipped over and straddled, one of her knees digging painfully into my still dislocated shoulder.

"It's much better when I'm on top," she murmurs, settling over my face and rubbing her dripping cleft against my mouth. I make my tongue follow her movements, flicking back and forth over her swollen clit as she rocks on me, fucking my face until I feel buried in hot, wet pussy.

When she comes with a loud cry, she breaks my nose against her bucking pelvis, and giggles as blood smears across my cum-slick face. With a slap, she straightens my nose, then shoves me off the bed and fastens the end of the chain around the metal bedpost.

Sitting with my legs drawn up, trying to ignore my weeping erection, I glance hesitantly up at her as she stands over me.

"Let's see how obedient you've become, hm? I'm going to go to sleep. You can't move more than two feet in any direction, but I'm leaving your hands free. You can fix your shoulder, if you can, but if I find that you've come..."

She smiles again, a twisted, dark look of glee, and I shiver and duck my head from her pat.

"Well, you won't like the consequences, *pet*."

As she climbs beneath the covers and the candles go out, I close my eyes and focus on setting my shoulder.

I'll need both arms if I'm ever to escape from her.

Though I'm very afraid that soon...

I won't want to.

End