Summary:"Vampires were meant to have a purpose, to exist for a reason, but they were left alone and abandonned and they grew wild. But sometimes a vampire is so beautiful that we go into the wild and bring one home."
Warning: slave fic, non-con
Betaed by gillo, i_luv_trees and mistress_tien
proposed the little prince, "I am so unhappy."
"I cannot play with you," the fox said,
"I am not tamed."
"AH please excuse me,"said the little prince.
But after some thought, he added:
"what does that mean---'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected,"
said the fox.
"It means to establish ties."
"To establish ties?"
"Just that," said the fox.
"to me, you are still nothing more than
a little boy who is just like
a hundred thousand other little boys.
And I have no need of you.
And you, on your part, have no need of me.
To you I am nothing more
than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes.
But if you tame me, then we shall need each other.
To me, you will be unique in all the world.
To you, I shall be unique in all the world. . ."
Groggy: best word to describe how he felt when he woke up. Utterly and totally groggy, unaware of where he was, or how he’d came to be here. His senses felt slightly muffled and he had a sudden urge to yawn. He didn’t think he’d been drunk, yet….
Spike pulled himself up to a sitting position; it wasn’t easy to do since the surface he was lying on was slightly mushy and gave way as he pressed into it. His head had been resting on the upstanding edge of a soft blue pillow, just barely high enough to elevate it. It felt warm and comfortable, almost comfortable enough to keep him from moving. Just a few more seconds, a few more and he’d be…It took him a few moments to realize he wasn’t wearing his regular jeans. Somehow he’d ended up dressed in a pair of harempants that were made of fabric so thin that even Hellen Keller could have counted every spot and speckle on his balls and legs.
After long moments of introspection, well, more accurately an attempt to try and think of what bar he’d gone to and how to get back there, he also noticed his increasing itchiness, and the reason for it; all the hair on his arms, chest and legs was gone. Also important: he wasn’t wearing a shirt, or shoes or socks, instead he had a soft metal collar around his neck, and platinum coloured bracelets hanging loosely on his wrists and ankles. He tugged at them with increasing desperation, but it seemed like they grew tighter with every tug. Spike finally admitted defeat. His skin was growing goosebumps, but he wasn’t cold. His body felt comfortably warm; not so much that it would make him want to doze off, but enough as if he were enjoying the warmth of sharing the bed with a live human body.
It took him a moment to realize that the pillow-like thing he was lying on didn’t slip away because it had been put in a soft plastic basket, the same kind that he’d seen in one of the windows of the pet store in Sunnydale. He’d always rushed Dawn past it, to keep her from getting any ideas about wanting a dog. He’d kinda wondered how comfortable these things were but that didn’t mean he’d ever intended to try one out for real. This particular one was actually a little under his own size, just long enough for him to lie in, but far more comfortable if he curled up. He crawled to his knees, spending a few seconds finding his balance before he managed to get up and check out the area. It seemed he was in some kind of living room. He managed a few steps before nearly tumbling over. There was a nice long couch in the middle of the room. A nice, long pink couch. He wondered if he could sit down for a second, he’d have to close his eyes not to be blinded by the pink, but to just sit down, let his feet rest on the sides… His eyes stayed glued to the sugary monstrosity for a moment, but he shook himself out of it. Best to check out where he’d gotten himself lost at; before he tried to figure out where Barbie and Ken had headed off to.
He needed to find out where he was and how he’d ended up here. What did he remember? Angel, Angel was there, and they were talking, joking, about Gunn and then… Then what happened? He wasn’t sure, but he remembered Fred screaming his name and … nothing.
There was something that looked like a TV screen in the front of the room. Emphasis on ‘looked like’, since as he came closer to it, he noticed the screen wasn’t solid, but made out of some kind of dark light. When he touched it he, it felt like he’d put his hand in liquid nitrogen, and he had better pull his away before his fingers crumbled off. He took a step back when something clicked. He couldn’t find a better word for it, just that it clicked. First the anklets on his feet started to feel heavy, as if some invisible midget had replaced them with the weight of a mustang. Then those on his wrists seemed to double in weight, triple, and before long he fell down under the burden with his wrists against the floor. He ended up on his knees with the bottoms of his feet facing upward so the anklets could touch down as well. When he tried to move they stuck to the floor, as if pulled down by some kind of magnetic attraction. His knees were hurting, but it wasn’t until he dared trying to look around that the collar around his neck started pulling towards the ground as well. Before he knew it, he was kneeling, head bowed down, wrists and palms on the floor, with only his ass up in the air.
Just bloody wonderful.
That scent. He knew it, but from where? If only he could recognize it. Oh God, it was him.
Soft steps were coming closer. For someone that big, the bastard definitely was a quiet one. Spike growled, but the man simply knelt down beside him, petting him, first his head then his back, continuing with a gentle stroke towards his ass. Gentle fingers brushed down until they reached his legs, travelled along to his feet and down the soles towards his toes. It tickled. A last gentle scratching on his back and pat on his ass and all of it was gone.
“Beautiful, and all mine.”
Spike wanted to grab for the ponce and make him stop when the giant hand moved through his hair again. But he couldn’t; he soon found that his every attempt to move out of the position he found himself in was futile. Locked down, helpless and in the hands of someone who’d put him in an outfit that would make a whore blush. He would have felt less exposed if he’d been naked. Another scratch behind his ear; what did the guy think he was? A pet? Sorry mate, he wasn’t a little puppy waiting behind the window for someone to please come and pick him up. And just as soon as he found a way out of these damn… fancy chains… he was going to get the hell out of…
God, not the hair again!
“I’m sorry, my boy, but the training gear is unavoidable for now. I have no intention of keeping you in it any longer than is absolutely necessary.”
Spike really didn’t like the term “training gear”. No, he was pretty sure he hated that term, because it meant that the guy had plans for him, plans a lot worse than a quick stake through the heart. Couldn’t they just give him the stake?
“Get your filthy hands off of my hair you filthy buggering ponce. You’re messing up the do.”
Spike found a hand underneath his chin, lifting it up as the man looked at him. Hamilton.
“Go ahead boy; they’re the last insults you’ll get for a long time, so get them off your chest.”
Spike didn’t have a clue what the hell was going on. He demanded to be let go, cursing Hamilton for all the filth in the world.
“Feel better yet?”
Spike stopped his tirade for a second. Why was the piece of slime so relaxed? Then Hamilton’s finger moved to the top of the collar, searching for something and before Spike could stop him he pressed a button on it. It was as if someone had shoved the chip back into his brain and he’d just tried to sink his teeth into a girl’s juicy, naked throat. The chip wasn't there anymore, but the pain, the blinding pain, was.
“From now on, the collar will punish any attempt at vulgarity. I’m sorry Spike, but a good pet doesn’t insult its master. It’s amusing for a moment, but I really prefer you didn’t embarrass me in front of my friends. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“Why you….” A sudden shock went through the collar, and Spike would have convulsed in pain if his restraints hadn’t held him fast to the floor.
“I really am sorry that I had to do that Spike. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then… don’t.” Spike managed to say, holding in a curse at the last moment.
“Promise me that you won’t curse, and I won’t use the collar to shock you again.”
“Why should I?”
“Because you want to be comfortable?” He tilted his head and looked as if the answer should have been obvious. “You’re a lovely creature Spike. You have a body almost literally made for pleasure and enjoyment, and I really do prefer to see you experience the joy rather than the pain of being a pet.”
“Yeah, then let me beat the crap out of you. That should give me pleasure.” Spike growled out.
Hamilton unfortunately seemed more amused than bothered by his words. Not without reason; he had Spike down, out and helpless. Spike hoped that Angel and the others were better off than he was. Hamilton gently pushed him over and Spike found himself spread-eagled on his back against the carpet. He once again struggled against the bonds, but found it even more useless now than it had been before. He lay there, wide open, with Hamilton just petting his belly while tracing his face with his second hand. Cold harsh fingers lingered on Spike’s cheek and lips, making the vampire shiver.
“You know, Spike, you’re the best investment I’ve ever made.” Spike moaned as Hamilton pushed a finger teasingly back and forth in his belly button. “You’re near perfect; beautiful, strong, unique. With your lineage you’d be worth owning even without that human soul of yours. But with the soul… that’s really the cherry topping. It makes you a collector’s item, unlike any other.”
He kissed Spike on the cheek, leaving him with nothing to do other than grit his teeth.
“And to think that my father just wanted to sell you on an open auction. Who knows where you might have ended up? In a brothel or worse.”
Spike wasn’t so sure if his current situation was any better; at least in a brothel he’d have known what was expected of him.
“I almost jumped at the chance when the Senior Partners offered me this job. They told me to take something of value from Angel in exchange for the backlog of sacrifices that he’s been running up. Oh, I know, he expected it to be one of his cars. I disagreed.”
Hamilton’s hand slipped into Spike’s pants, fingering his dick, and cupping his balls.
“Sure, he could get you back, if he pays the Senior Partners his dues. But I seriously doubt he’d have the good sense to do so.”
“What do they want?” Spike said, desperate not to react to Hamilton’s fingers, still in his pants. “Oh, God.”
“It’s not even all that much; just the backlog in sacrifices, as I said, and a bonus.”
Spike gasped for air.
“Let’s see, that’s fifty goats, a hundred kittens, a good 200 assorted animals of choice, and thirteen children between the age of five and thirteen. He really is getting off easy.”
It was all that Spike could manage to say. One more touch made him arch upward, and Hamilton used the chance to pull down Spike’s pants to his knees.
“Every head of a Wolfram and Hart subdivision is supposed to personally sacrifice at least three children a quarter, times three when you’re late and a thirteenth for balance. Didn’t Eve mention this? Tsk tsk I honestly don’t see Angelus’ problem with it. It’s not like children are that expensive to buy on the open market.”
Spike shuddered as he realized there was no way Angel could ever buy him out of this; not at the price Hamilton had just outlined. Please Angel, come get me… Oh God where …
"But I guess Angel values his precious mortals' lives over you. His loss, my gain." Hamilton's grip changed, tightening and pumping Spike harder. Spike found himself himself panting, giving in to the rhythm gripping his dick.
“Just let it go Spike, there’s nothing holding you back.”
Nothing but his own pride; nothing but the knowledge gained when Angelus had played this game with him: that letting go meant surrender. And Spike knew well enough, that if he did, it would be but the first of many. He’d always fought to resist his sire, done his very best to be strong, to show he wasn’t a victim to his own body, yet as Hamilton’s sly little touches continued, his thick fingers finally reaching between Spike’s leg and into his sphincter, Spike found that same strength missing. He used to be better at this; he used to be able to hold out. For Dru’s sake if not his own. Pressure built inside his balls, thickening his cock with every touch. How the hell was Hamilton doing this to him, what was he touching, too much, far too much, … Resisting it hurt as bad as the time his balls had turned blue after four days of holding out, yet the touches hadn’t lasted for any longer than a few minutes. Come started trickling out, no, damn it, please no…, but it was useless as his control snapped and he sprayed come all over his stomach and thighs.
“Lovely.” Spike wished he could knock Hamilton’s smirk off of his face. “Good boy!” along with a pat on Spike’s head. Spike closed his eyes, deeply embarrassed as Hamilton reached for a box of tissues and proceeded to clean him up..
“You really have nothing to worry about Spike, you’ll love it here. I’ll make sure of that.” Spike growled but that didn’t stop Hamilton. “You’re angry because you think your life is over. You think that I want to destroy you. But I don’t.” He gently took a swipe and cleaned off the worst of the fluids. “Were you really that happy on earth? Free to what, to be hungry and cold, to have to hide from the sun or even symbols and magic, never able to truly let go of all those thoughts and fears. There is none of that here, not if you submit, all you have to do is let yourself enjoy your new life and I can almost guarantee that you’ll spend an eternity in the kind of bliss you can’t even begin to imagine.”
It only made Spike want to spit in his face. He could do nothing to resist as Hamilton picked him up and put him in the big pet bed, then sat down next to him and kept petting him.
“Just let go of your pride, Spike. It’s all that keeps you from enjoying yourself. You could be happier than you’ve ever been in your entire existence as a man, as well as a vampire. We both know that a vampire’s only true place is at his master’s feet.”
“Never!” It was intended as a shout; it came out as a whisper. But to Spike’s further embarrassment Hamilton wasn’t even listening.
“And to think that all it took to get you here was a letter.”