Spike clenched his fists, his blunt nails biting into the palms of his hands. The muscle in his jaw
ticked and his lips were compressed in a tight, thin line. Hate bubbled inside of him, pure and
unadulterated, a black well-spring of an emotion so strong, it burned.
"Here ye! Here ye!" Angelus yelled with unabashed glee. Minions and fledglings came into the
room, obeying the master's call. They stood in various places, some wary, some eager, but all
waiting for the dark-haired vampire to continue.
Spike stared straight ahead, his blue gaze hard and stony. He was in the center of the main room
of the factory, sitting naked in the wheelchair that had destroyed his life, waiting. His Black
Queen wasn't present, but he suspected she was unconscious due to her latest round of "play"
"The floor is yours, Spike, my boy," Angelus said. "Literally."
His jaw ticked again and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Angelus sit down on a chair. His
sire leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, a wicked smile turning up his lips.
Unclenching his fists, Spike grabbed the armrests of the wheelchair and levered himself upwards.
His muscles in his arms strained as his bare feet slid forward and he lowered himself to the floor.
His bare lower back scraped against the metal of the footrests as he sat down on his heels. He
released his hold on the armrests and quickly put his palms flat on the floor so he wouldn't fall
He was surprised Angelus wasn't making his usual unwitty comments, but he supposed the
degradation he was about to endure required no soundtrack. Drusilla, he reminded himself. He
was doing this so he could continue to be with her.
With the audience that had gathered in the room looking on, Spike laid down on the hard floor
and turned over. He stared blankly up at the high ceiling, focusing his thoughts entirely on his
love, as his left hand encircled his flaccid cock. Slowly, he began to stroke himself, picturing his
In his mind's eye, he saw her smile her coy little smile, looking at him from under her dark
lashes, her eyes dancing with delight. She was wearing the same red dress she wore for her
coming out party, her hair pinned up with antique, silver combs. A few of the dark tendrils
escaped and framed her face, contrasting sharply with her pale, perfect skin.
The scent of roses surrounded her. Roses and blood. She held one of the beautiful flowers in her
hand, brushing the deep red petals against the underside of her chin. She batted her lashes at
him, a demure smile tugging at her lips. He saw himself reach out to her, cupping her cheek and
smiling lovingly at her in return when she nuzzled his palm.
He bent his head and captured her cool mouth with his, his tongue dipping inside the dark recess
to brush against hers. She tentatively kissed him back, then grew more bold, engaging in a
passionate battle that fueled his desire. His other hand went around her waist, sliding along the
red material to her lower waist, pulling her against him.
She dropped the rose and he felt her hands move around his waist, scratching along his bare skin.
She pressed her pelvis against his, rubbing purposely against his erection through the material of
his trousers. He growled softly into her mouth, his fingers curling around the back of her dress in
Breaking away, he stared down at his love and saw the desire in her luminous eyes. Desire for
him and him alone. His hands moved again, going to the zipper in the back of her dress. It
descended with a soft rasp, his fingers following the trail down the cool skin of her back. When it
was unzipped completely, she stepped back from him and allowed the material to slide off of her
shoulders to fall to the ground around her feet.
Proudly, she stood before him, as if daring him to say anything negative about her nudity. His
eyes roved down her body, drinking in her pale skin, her firm breasts and dusky, pebble-like
nipples, down to the thatch of midnight curls at the juncture of her thighs. He continued his
perusal further, down her shapely legs to her dainty feet. A smile pulled at his mouth when he
saw her toenails had been painted a bright purple color.
He quickly divested himself of his trousers, then scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the
bed. She giggled lightly at his actions, the tinkling sound making his undead heart beat with
happiness. He caught her mouth again in a loving and passionate kiss, his body pressed
intimately against hers.
He wanted to pleasure her first, but she did not allow him. Her hand moved between them and
her long fingers encircled his cock, her hips shifting beneath him. He felt the head of his shaft
enter her wet opening and he surged forward unconsciously, burying himself in her soft core.
Her legs wrapped over his, holding him flat against her.
Moaning into her mouth, he began to thrust in and out of her slowly. Her hands danced along
his back, caressing his skin. Their tongues played together, chasing each other back and forth
between their mouths. His pelvis rubbed up against her mound with each forward movement of
his hips, pleasuring her without using his fingers.
Her orgasm came without warning. Her vaginal muscles suddenly clamped around his shaft and
her hips arched up against him, a cry of pleasure swallowed by his mouth over hers. His sac
tightened in response and he thrust several more times in rapid succession before his own climax
His hand tightened around his shaft, his firm strokes speeding up briefly, before he shot his
semen over his hand and onto his abdomen. The cool, sticky substance ran down the hard
planes of his skin. His fantasy world disappeared in an instant, replaced by burning hatred and
humiliation, as Angelus started clapping. He felt the eyes of more than a dozen minions on him
and knew that the last shred of power he had over them was gone.
"Wonderful performance," Angelus crowed. "I give it two thumbs up."
Spike continued to lay on the hard floor, his hand falling to the floor at his side. One of three
things was coming next. Either he'd be left alone, he'd be given to the minions to play with, or
he'd be forced to submit to his sire again. It ended up being the last one.
"Oh Spi-ike," Angelus called in a sing-song voice. He turned his head and saw the dark-haired
vampire spread his legs and pat his crotch, as if calling over a dog. "Come here, boy. Come on."
Biting his inner cheek, Spike pushed himself to a sitting position and reached for the wheelchair.
Angelus' mocking voice stopped him. "Uh-uh. Doggies don't sit in wheelchairs."
He swallowed his rage, knowing if he uttered a single word, Angelus would prevent him from
being with Drusilla. Ignoring the others in the room, he turned onto his stomach and began to
crawl across the floor, his mostly-useless legs dragging behind him. He refused to meet his sire's
eyes, as he came to a stop between the spread legs.
He knew what he was supposed to do. He maneuvered himself so his legs were under him, his
hands holding onto the edge of the chair on either side of Angelus. He was given a small reprieve
by his sire freeing himself from the confines of his leather pants. His thoughts on Drusilla once
more, he closed his eyes and took Angelus' cock into his mouth.
He heard the gasps of incredulity from the minions in the room and then he heard a voice he'd
hoped he wouldn't hear. The sweet voice of the woman he had hoped wouldn't be witness to his
"Are you playing without me?" Drusilla asked. He could hear her footsteps as she crossed the
floor to them, but he didn't stop sucking. The quicker he finished, the quicker he could disappear
with his Dark Lady.
"Yes, I am, sweetheart," Angelus answered. "You can stay and watch if you want. Spike here
gives great head. I may let the others find out how talented his mouth is."
"But my Spike doesn't like that," Drusilla said. "You're hurting him."
"All the more reason to do it," Angelus replied.
Spike drew on every ounce of willpower he had not to bite off his sire's cock. Instead, he sucked
it deep into his throat, his nose pressing against the dark pubic hairs surrounding Angelus' shaft.
He swallowed repeatedly and heard Angelus hiss slightly. Continuing that action for what
seemed like an eternity under Drusilla's silent watchfulness, he finally tasted the salty cum, as it
poured down his throat. He milked his sire until the cock in his mouth softened, then he released
it, but kept his head lowered and his eyes closed.
"Good boy," Angelus said. He felt Angelus pat the top of his head, then was shoved roughly
backwards. He fell back onto the hard floor, his legs twisted awkwardly under him. "Now, I'm
hungry. Dru, he's all yours."
Angelus' footsteps echoed as he left the room, followed by the other minions'. Spike felt the
gentle hands of his love straightening his legs, but refused to open his eyes. He couldn't look at
her just yet.
"I don't like it when daddy hurts you," Drusilla said. "It makes my insides feel all bad."
Spike was picked up like a child and carried back to his wheelchair, fueling his anger and
humiliation, despite the many times she'd done it before. The love he had for Drusilla was the
only thing preventing him from taking it out on her, that was how thin his control had been
stretched. He gathered that rage and hatred for his sire and packaged it into a small box, saving it
for when the time was right.
And then Angelus would die.