Tough Decisions

BY : Perverted_Pages
Category: AtS AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes
Dragon prints: 3237
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer or any of the characters, and make no money off of this. Joss Whedon owns all, all hair Joss Whedon!

A.N. This is a sort of "Choose Your Own Adventure" thing, you get to pick the ending! YAY!

The party was getting started! The comfy basement living room was full of girls drinking, partying, wearing skimpy clothes while a muted plasma screen TV showed various porno’s and heavy music made talking difficult. It pulsed through her, tingling along her spine, and made everything kinda dreamy…

Or maybe that’s the booze talking…

She’d met all the girls; there was confident and dainty Buffy, harsh and abrasive Darla, catty and quick Cordelia, quirky but adorably cute Anya, sultry and wise Willow, and her, Fred. All Fred had to say about herself was she was smart, a genius really, and she felt horridly out of place with all these girls. She wouldn’t even be here if Cordelia hadn’t begged her to come. This was an important party, a birthday for some bigwig Fred hadn’t heard about before. 

Fred wasn’t a hooker, she’d never had sex for money before, but her parents had cut her off to plunge even more money into their dying farm in the vain hope it would survive, and that meant she was destitute and at the end of her doctorate degree. For the past three weeks she’d been eating leftovers from the cafeteria garbage bins, because she couldn’t afford anything else. Her housing was prepaid till the end of the semester, but after that she had to go home, four classes short of her degree. It wasn’t FAIR! So… she decided to stay on. She’d find a job and pay for the last semester herself, but no one would hire her with her erratic schedule. 

She remembered seeing the envelope in Cordelia’s room when she’d been cleaning up to earn enough money for a few school supplies. The flap was sticking out of her sock drawer, and Fred had opened it just to poke it inside to make the room neat and tidy when she saw the stack of bills inside.

It had taken her a week and a half before she’d had the guts to ask Cordelia where she’d gotten that kind of cash. She thought at first the girl had sold her TV or other electronics because hers were no longer there, but a few days later she’d looked in her room and had seen the brand new entertainment system, and that envelope flap still sticking out of her sock drawer.

After a lot of hemming and hawing and beating around the bush she finally asked, desperately trying to hide her desperation, but that didn’t work out. Cordelia saw right through her. She saw how gaunt Fred looked, the circles under her eyes, noticed she hadn’t been eating anything in the quiet house she shared with Cordelia, Willow and Anya. She hadn’t even been giving in money for house groceries saying she had been eating out more than in. She’d seen the signs before, in herself, and so told her the truth to the hesitantly asked question. 

“I’m an escort,” bland, to the point, no sugar coating. Fred timidly asked for more information, not even able to look Cordelia in the face, plucking at the fringe of a throw pillow instead.

Fred listened while Cordelia told her of the small agency she worked out of, what she was expected to do with clients, even some funny and one scary story about some people she’d been paid to be with. She’d been taken to the opera, weekend trips to Paris and Greece, once on a two week trip to Cuba by some guy calling himself Angel. It all seemed so fantastic, so exotic, and Cordelia made it sound so safe.

So here she was, at a birthday party being thrown in Angel’s honour, decked out in flimsy lingerie he had requested the girls to wear, but nothing seemed to be happening, other than a normal party. If a party could be called normal with almost a half dozen girls dressed, or rather, undressed to the only male in the room’s taste and desire. The girls cooed and stroked his arm or leg, Willow and Buffy were draped across his lap while the others lounged about his feet, giggling and munching and drinking sparkling champagne, and she was timidly hiding on the staircase leading to the rest of the house, behind the railing.

Fred had never done anything like this before. She wasn’t a virgin by any means, but she was still sweetly innocent, and that’s why Angel had wanted her. Her innocence called out to him, and he wanted to be the one to take it from her… and he knew he could.

He beckoned her closer and she blushed, shyly pulling at the hem of the see through babydoll she was wearing. She’d never worn anything so silky and fine before, never mind something so naughty in full view of so many people. She fought back her blush and moved towards Angel’s feet. He was such a handsome man that it confused her why he’d have to pay for attention like this. Maybe it was a kink?

“Party boring you?” Angel asked with a shy smile.

“Oh! No! I just don’t know where to put myself…” she smiled the way Cordelia had taught her, full of promise and impish glee. “Your lap seems full, and…”

“Shhh… don’t worry, I’m not angry. Here, sit between my feet, the best part of the movie is coming up.” He smiled benevolently at her, parting his legs to give her room. She quickly scrambled over and settled herself, resting her head on his knee. She tried to keep from seeing the disapproving look Cordelia was trying to shoot her way. This wasn’t how you treated a well paying, well tipping, amazingly amazing client, this isn’t what she had been taught, and Fred knew that.

She wasn’t even watching the movie, a fresh glass of champagne and a bowl of strawberries were pressed into her hands, which she drank and ate absently. Suddenly a giggle from Cordelia pulled her out of her reverie.

“I didn’t know you freelanced into porn Cass!” Cordelia giggled again, and took another long gulp of her champagne, stroking slender fingers down Anya’s arm in a clear ‘Wanna Screw?’ gesture.

Cass was her ‘stage name’. Everyone here had one, it was safer than giving a John your real name. Fred was pretty sure Angel wasn’t the client’s real name either, but it didn’t bother her, he wasn’t the first. Finally she looked at the screen and her jaw dropped in shock. She felt light headed and confused.

It was Fred on the TV all right! Fred masturbating in her own bedroom, Fred fucking her boyfriend Gunn, Fred Fred Fred! All shot when she thought she was safe and alone in her home. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t understand, and when the scene shifted to Cordelia’s room and Cordelia’s liaisons in her own private space, Fred got up indignantly, hearing Cordelia gasp in shock behind her.

“What the h-hell…?” She wanted to demand, criticize, yell, scream, find out what the hell was going ON here… but something was wrong. She looked dumbly down at the champagne flute by Angel’s foot, and noticed absentminded that he’d never drank or eaten what the girls had been given. Her last thought before blackness swallowed her up was, I just needed some money! 


She came to, her wrists cuffed to the headboard of the bed. The sheets were scratchy under her naked arse and back… which was when she realized she was naked. Naked and chained to a strange bed. She looked up at her wrists and saw the padded cuffs locked around them, the short length of chain locked to the metal bars of the headboard, and the lack of anything else in this dank, ill lit, plain cement cube of a room. It looked like she had enough room to stand up, but the room was only twice the size of her twin sized bed. The walls seeped moisture and a thick, heavy looking metal door was the only deviation from its gloomy expanse. Everything had an underlying aroma of rot and mildew even though the bedding seemed dry and clean. The door appeared to open outwards and had an opening at face level and one thin long one at the base. Both openings were sealed shut from the other side.

Fred swallowed. Her throat felt like dry sandpaper and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Nothing seemed to ease her thirst. She tried calling out a few times, but couldn’t croak out a sound, so she curled up as far on her side as she could, and tried hard not to cry.

I just needed some money… 


Weeks pass in tedium. Tedium filled with horror and torture and near constant rape, but tedium non-the-less. She even began to welcome the pain of punishment for not being enthusiastic enough, at least she felt something then. She started to throw up walls inside her mind, barricading herself behind their dubious shelter as the training went on. She even built a shell of a personality to hide behind, letting it talk and fuck and beg for more kisses from the whip. She wondered fleetingly if this is what having a split personality felt like, and shrugged internally. If it was she’d deal with it later, but right now at least she didn’t have to be the one… there.

Angel came regularly to watch her training. He watched while she learned the seductive arts of the bed chamber, the different personalities clients might require, the different talents that would come in handy and most importantly of all she learned to be instantly obedient.

She remembered the training to be a bratty little school girl, seductive vixen, the wanton whore, the blushing virgin. She remembered the lash, the cattle prod, torn skin and broken bones from her punishments. She knew where to find the cleverly hidden scars on her body. She remembered the stench when her brand was placed on her thigh, scorched skin is not a pleasant aroma, even though she hadn’t screamed. She’d been trained by then to be silent on command, to utter no sound until she was released… but she wasn’t the one that went through it. She wasn’t the one that had suffered and begged, by then Cass had taken over.

Angel called her Cass when he went to visit her in the middle of the night sometimes, ‘tasting her treasures’ as he called it. He’d often have her repeat some lesson she’d been taught during the day, that he’d witnessed. Sometimes he had to take her into another room for equipment or just space requirements, and on those nights she was again grateful for the break in her tedium.

She wondered if this is what it was like to be broken, to be torn asunder. She wondered if she’d ever be able to make her way back to the real world.


Fred watched from inside her body as Cass smoothed lotion over her damp skin. It was unscented, which made sense, Angel always said he preferred his girls to smell like girls. She looped a long chain with dangling silver bells around her ankle and locked it in place, the small bells chiming softly as she settled into position to wait. Sometimes someone came for her right away after her bath, sometimes it took hours, other times she got to eat and sleep and bathe several times before someone came for her. She wondered if this was on purpose, or if this just how her client rhythm went.

She’d been rented out hundreds of times by now. Sometimes for fifteen minutes, sometimes for hours or days or even weeks. She’d gotten used to it. For all the training they’d put into her for different persona’s, they were rarely used. Most of her clients just wanted the naughty school girl, and even though it bored her to tears, she still acted the part of eager participant, begging in all the right places.

Angel still visited her, still ‘tasted her treasures’. Sometimes he’d bring another girl, someone he called his little Dawnie, and he loved to watch them together. Sometimes Fred would be with Dawn the entire time, Angel either watching passively with hungry eyes or jerking off with fevered thrusts, his warm seed spilling on the cement floor. She’d gotten past her heterosexual limitations long ago, this was just another part to play.

Fred didn’t know what time it was anymore, or what day. She hadn’t left this underground warren since she’d been drugged, she had no watch, no need to tell time so clocks were absent from every room. She hadn’t even had a chance to see the sun in so long that they’d started her on a weekly regiment of nude tanning bed sessions. Her clients so loved her healthy Texas tan, even if they did tell her to use a different accent than her natural one from time to time. 

The only thing she knew for certain was if a client marked her in some way, she wasn’t used until the mark faded. If it was a bruise or a cut, or tearing her pussy and arse with brutal rapes, she was tended to carefully and allowed to heal. She understood her clients paid for her time off, and wondered what her price was by now. I wonder how much this place brings in during a week? Not that we’ll see any of it… 

That wasn’t exactly true. The more clients she got the more luxuries she got. She even had a towel now! She’d been given her own brush and now and again there was an apple on her meal tray. She realized she was becoming dependant on those tiny luxuries, and knew it was likely the intent. It was like an addiction, the only things that… made her feel good, brought back pleasant memories.


She’d been taken from her room to a low stage. She smiled widely when the spotlight hit her and went through the commands barked at her from the shadows. Eventually she was led off stage and put in a cage. Disconcertingly she clued in that she was being sold. She was being taken away from her whole world! All of a sudden those months… years?… of boredom and tedium were exactly where she wanted to be. She knew what was expected, she’d worked hard, she’d done GOOD!!! Why were they getting rid of her? What had she done wrong?

She felt the flutter of panic in the pit of her stomach, and stamped hard on it. This might be her best chance to escape! This might be her best chance to become free!

She fought an inner war of elation at her possible chances of getting away and stark terror at the thought of being taken from her calm, safe, ‘I know where everything is and what I need to do’ life and being forced back into the real world.

Suddenly she thought of going back to school again, and realized… she would probably never finish her doctorate. All of this would be for nothing. She just wasn’t the same person anymore.


A man named Lindsey bought her. He had cold cruel eyes and let her know, under no uncertain terms, that he was not going to accept even one moment of disobedience. He beat the message into her within the first hour of her cage being uncovered in his ‘play room’… but he never once laid a finger on her. She got to watch him beat to death his previous slave, the one she was replacing. 

The fact that it was Cordelia under the mess of blood and bruises and torn skin didn’t register at first. By the time it did Cordelia was dead and Fred felt only relief that she was out of this world. She realized that meant this was her fate should she ever disobey, and wondered briefly if it would be so bad, to be killed. If it meant she wouldn’t be here anymore… that didn’t sound bad. At least then everything would be over, and nothing could hurt her anymore.


She went through months of retraining. She needed to remember how to do her hair, how to wear clothing, especially the kinds of lingerie he favoured. She learned to cook his meals and clean up after him, how to attend to his guests depending on what kind of guests they were. The fact that he liked to watch her being used by multiple people didn’t disgust her, but the one time she saw him take a large envelope of money from a group that had just fucked her made her nauseous. It reminded her too strongly of what had gotten her into this situation in the first place.

He even trained her how to behave in a restaurant, to let him order, to never look at the waiter, to only eat after he had taken his first bite and sip of his drink. She learned how to sit with him at the opera in his private box, at the theatre in public, he taught her exactly what kind of lady he wanted, and what kind of slut.

Slowly she began to feel tedium wash over her again. This was normal, this was safe, this was good now. She knew what was required, she knew what she had to be… it was good.


It seemed innocent enough, at the time. He’d wanted double butter on his popcorn, and she’d told the concession stand girl to double the butter, but she hadn’t. Lindsey didn’t say a word to her during the movie, but she felt the fury vibrating off him in almost visible waves.

When the film was over they waited till the theatre emptied. He grabbed her chin and lifted her face till she met his eyes and spat out, “You disobeyed…” and walked away.

Fred followed.


He led the way inside, shedding his coat over her bent shoulders while she untied and removed his shoes. He settled himself in his chair in front of the TV and turned it on. Fred unhesitatingly put his shoes and coat away, quickly shedding and folding her clothing, putting them in the cubbies provided. She went and got his drink ready, and started dinner.

He sipped his drink and didn’t even look at her. 

She continued making dinner in the spacious kitchen. She was still trying to decide whether him killing her would really be a bad thing. It was a tough decision to make, and she didn’t want to rush into things.


He made love to her. Sweet, tender, attentive love. He brought her to orgasm so many times she was dizzy and breathless in their aftermath. She knew this was his way of saying goodbye, it had to be, he’d never done anything like this before. It was a nice goodbye, as far as goodbye’s went. She wondered if Cordelia had been given the same courtesy.

He got up smoothly from his snuggle with Fred, sitting on the edge of the bed and getting something out of the nightstand. Fred watched, curious, and wondered what else he could possibly give her. Maybe this was the first step before he beat her to death. He was probably going out to buy a new slave right after he strung her up in the play room. Maybe he was going to cuff her here in case she struggled later.

He walked to the other side of the bed and climbed atop her as she lay on her stomach, stroking her hair gently as he laid down a small coil of rope.

“You are a special one, you know… Everyone else broke down into hysterics at those words… but you were so calm, so accepting, and you even kept up the rules and routine through it all… I am so impressed Cass, so very very impressed,” He ran soothing fingers down her spine and took her hands in his, placing them securely at the base of her spine.

“I’m going to reward your obedience Cass, I’m going to give you something I never gave the others,” He tied her hands together with the coil of rope securely. “I’m going to give you a peaceful death,” he looped the loose end of the rope about Fred’s throat. “I’m going to strangle you, and fuck you, and when I cum you will too, and then you will die.”

Fred remained motionless under his hands, felt him shift and slide between her thighs and lift up her arse to its usual height in this position. She felt him prodding at her slit, felt his cock head smear itself in their combined secretions. He drew back and slammed into her sopping cunt, and began to tighten the cord about her throat. Then, an unexpected sound reached their ears in the relative silence of their home, the front doorbell.

“Wait for me…” he chuckled darkly as he left her, secure in the knowledge that her training would hold her in place.

She waited, listening to his footsteps go across the floor to the door. He made a muffled grunt of surprise when he recognized who was at the door and swung it open. Fred heard him ask what they were doing there, and heard a female voice answer. It seemed she’d found his wallet at the theatre and wanted to return it. She didn’t seem all that interested in leaving. She’d probably seen his credit cards and large clip of money and decided he might be worth chatting up. His home had a very masculine feel to it since he was the only one that decorated and she knew the other woman would take that as an open invitation.

Suddenly she realized… this was her chance. This was her chance to get away, to be free! He couldn’t kill her if she got away, found a police officer somewhere and told her story, hell, just screaming down the street stark naked ought to get her some attention.

Again she wondered if dying might not be as bad as it sounds. No more questions, pain? Fear? uncertainty, everything over and done with. It sounded almost safe. He’d said he’d make it easy on her, and he hadn’t lied to her yet, so it was possible; just one last good fuck and then oblivion. It wasn’t what she’d dreamed of, but it was better than anything else she could think of as a possibility for her end.


She heard Lindsey invite the woman in, got her drinks and settled in front of a crackling fire. The girls name was Amy, and she stayed for quite a while. Fred heard low murmured conversations and giddy laughter which slowly melted into soft moans with panting breath. Briefly she wondered if he’d be too tired to fuck her and kill her after Amy was done with him. Maybe Amy’s presence would gain her another day.


She heard him snoring when she woke up in the middle of the night. Either Amy had stayed over in the living room, or he’d drunken himself into a stupor. It didn’t matter. Whatdid matter was her bladder’s insistence on being emptied NOW! She’d learned before to use the toilet when it was needed if he wasn’t available to give permission, so she got up and did her business, carefully folding the rope in her hands so it didn’t trail or dip into the toilet. She didn’t flush though, because that would wake him up. She was never allowed to flush the toilet when he was asleep.

She realized right now was the golden opportunity to leave. She could just quietly walk out the back door. He would never know until it was too late, and she could be free again, out in the real world. Out where everything was the opposite of here.

She just couldn’t decide if death was really such a bad thing…


Now comes the fun part! Does she stay? Or does she go?

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