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The Silken Cage: Journey	By : margotlefaye Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Angel(us)/Buffy > Angel(us)/Buffy Views: 21206 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel or any of the characters therefrom. No profit is being made from this work of fanfic, which is intended as commentary on the original, not as a derivative work. No infringement intended.

Chapter List
- 1-The Silken Cage: Journey
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15a
- 16-Part 15b
- 17-Part 16
- 18-Part 17
- 19-Part 18
- 20-Part 19
- 21-Part 20
- 22-Part 21
- 23-Part 22a
- 24-Part 22b
- 25-Part 23
- 15
- 16
- 17
Angelus savored the vision before him; his lovely Buffy adorned in flashing diamonds, nylon stockings, spiked heels, a scrap of lace garter, and nothing else. She was trembling in the most seductive mixture of lust and terror that a vampire could desire. His own lust was barely held in check by the knowledge that indulging his appetites now would simply ensure that he would be unable to indulge them for any appreciable time in the future. If he didn’t force matters, Buffy–whose Slayer recuperative powers had been compromised, not eradicated–would probably heal well enough to accept his renewed attentions by tomorrow, though he might have to restrain himself from indulging the full force of his ardor. If he gave in to his appetites now–and Buffy was stimulating his appetite to a raging hunger–he might damage her too severely for her to willingly partner him for several more days.
Nothing was worth such a long period of deprivation. He wanted Buffy. He had her. He simply needed to be patient.
And, he thought as he let his gaze drift to her charmingly puckered nipples, quivering mere inches away, it wasn’t as if he had to play the monk. There was a delightful array of amorous games into which he could initiate her. The biggest problem he had was deciding which to play first. Not a decision to be rushed. Angelus reached for his own achingly hard cock, stroking it soothingly while he contemplated his options.
Buffy’s apprehension increased with every passing moment. She had been standing for what seemed like hours and still Angelus made no move. What was he waiting for? What new form of torture was being contemplated in that diabolically inventive mind? Was she about to discover how he had earned his reputation for terror? Despite the warmth of the air around her, Buffy was shivering.
Was that the sound of leather on fabric, or just the wind stirring the curtains at the window? Was the air in front of her shifting to accommodate his movement, or was it an errant breeze? But no, if he had moved, she would have felt it by now. Surely she would have felt it by now? He wasn’t moving. Was that worse? How long would it be before Angelus’ inaction drove her out of her mind? But, when he did move, would it be the whip that found her? Another drift of sound and eddy of air, and still nothing. She couldn’t take much more of this, she knew, she would start weeping or screaming and why wasn’t he moving, and, yes, even the whip would be better than--
A cool, wet mouth closed over the nipple of her right breast. Buffy almost sobbed in relief. As his skilled ministrations continued, a torrent of fire raced through her body. He was suckling delicately, gently, not using fangs or even teeth. She dared hope that the violence she had feared in him had been somewhat appeased, and that her danger was past. A moment later, that hope was dashed as something stiff and hard began to circle gently around the aureole of the other breast. She realized uneasily that it was the handle of the whip, and yet, the caress wasn’t hurtful, but exactly the opposite; stimulating, tantalizing, erotic.
Somehow, not being able to see what he was doing intensified what he was making her feel. Buffy flooded with desire, as his lips and tongue worked one nipple, and the leather caressed the other. Instinctively, she lifted her hands to his hair, to hold his head in place.
A sharp sting along her hip made her freeze in shock. She had just had her first taste of the lash. Buffy couldn’t quite digest that. It hadn’t really hurt, but the idea of using a whip in sex play was so utterly alien to her, that she couldn’t help but be alarmed. She expected this to be an either/or thing. Either Angelus wouldn’t hurt her, and he would eventually abandon the whip, or he would hurt her, and she could look forward to a beating either before, after, or most unpleasantly, during whatever else he wanted to do with her. Those were the only ways this could play out, weren’t they?
She was about to find out otherwise. Angelus' mouth left her breast.
"Naughty girl. You will stay still, Buffy. Don’t move unless I specifically tell you to move. Is that understood?"
Did he mean that if she didn’t move, she could escape a beating? Buffy had a moment of disgust with herself, for even contemplating submission as a way to avoid a beating, instead of fighting back, or escaping. She must be crazy to stand here listening to him. Why, oh why hadn’t she run when she’d had the chance?
Because this would all have been much worse if you had, she thought. The truth was, there was no question of what she would or would not allow. She was still Angelus’ prisoner, however silken the cage in which she was kept. She was still too weak to fight him back, her coordination compromised, her ability to run with any degree of speed undermined by muscle relaxants and other compounds that had been used to keep Slayers helpless for thousands of years. Not for the first time, Buffy cursed the Watcher’s Council for the idiocy of their cruciamentum. Because of it, and because Angel had been let in on that little secret, she didn’t have a choice, right now. The only thing she could do was try to use Angelus’ lusts against him to ensure her own safety.
"Y-yes," she answered finally, carefully keeping the resentment she felt out of her voice.
"Mmmm. Good girl." There was a creaking, as Angelus slid back in his chair. She couldn’t identify the sounds that came next, and stood in uneasy silence for another moment until the next deceptively soft command was made.
"Move your feet a bit farther apart, darling." A moment after she did so, she felt something cool slide between her nether lips and rub gently over her clit. The coolness was soothing, and she couldn’t help a little moan of pleased surprised, but when she tried to twist her hips to follow the motion of the object, another sting was delivered to the opposite hip.
"Still, darling. Perfectly still." Buffy shivered, and held still. She really, really needed to get him focused on something other than hurting her. Demon proclivities being what they were, Angelus’ treatment of her since he had captured her might almost be termed gentle, at least in comparison to what he was capable of. She’d be damned if she gave him an excuse to depart from that, to treat her like just another victim, just another toy to be used and broken. Buffy took a deep breath, steeling herself to be the very perfection of stillness.
She was rewarded with several minutes of the most delectable torture to which she had ever been subjected.
Whatever had been in the box, it was small and metallic. It had a smooth surface which felt incredibly good against her clit, and against the folds of her nether lips. Within a very few minutes, Buffy stopped worrying about lessons and demonic proclivities as a tide of rapture began to build. Angelus’ mercurial mood seemed to have swung in her favor, once more, and he was using his considerable skill and experience–and a toy she liked much better than the whip, whatever it was–for her enjoyment, rather than chastisement.
But as several moments passed, bringing her closer and closer to the cresting of the wave, but never quite reaching it, she realized there was another problem. Angelus never kept whatever he was using on her in one place long enough for it to feel really good, never established a dependable rhythm that would bring her to release, never gave her the pressure that would ensure her climax. And she didn’t dare move to get those things on her own. The thought uppermost in her mind was that if she were perfectly submissive, perfectly obedient, he would have no excuse to hurt her, and she needn’t worry about the whip. The thought just below that was that if she ever had the chance to turn the tables, Angelus was going to regret that he had ever even thought of the words "Buffy" and "whip" in the same sentence. But contemplation of that laudable intention was quickly washed away in a rising tide of lust.
She was almost ready. He could tell because her delicious body was rosily flushed and quivering in need, her lovely nipples were at rigid attention, and she was breathing in short sharp pants. Smirking, Angelus slid the little cylinder across her clit once more, then down her enticingly drenching folds and further back, gently pressing it up into her soaking core.
Buffy whimpered as whatever Angelus was using slid deep inside her, his finger pushing it higher, and impossibly higher. The object, which seemed to have a thin wire or cord attached at the lower end, was small enough not to hurt her, as his cock assuredly would have done--might yet do-- coherent thought fled as Angelus’ finger somehow lifted the object until it touched the mouth of her womb. Then his finger was gently, quickly withdrawn, and Buffy was left with the unknown object lodged high and deep inside her, the wire running out from between her thighs.
"Close your legs, darling," Angelus told her. "I don’t want you to loose what I’ve put inside you. It would . . .annoy me." Buffy clamped her legs shut with alacrity. Angelus chuckled, and she felt his hands on her hips. A moment later, his cool lips brushed a caress against her belly.
"Umm. Such lovely, soft skin," he murmured between kisses. "So sensitive, and receptive. You shiver when you feel my mouth on you." Another wet kiss to her belly. "Tremble at the way my fingers brush against your skin." A flick, as of fingers, brushing lightly across her flank. "And that, my darling girl, brings us back to what you don’t know about vampires. Nerve endings, Buffy." The caresses moved to her breasts, as he fondled and kissed the plump mounds, lips worshiping each puckered nipple. "You’re alive with them," he murmured as he switched attention between the two, "humming below the surface, responsive to my every touch and taste." He moved down her torso, illustrating his point, and ending his demonstration by tasting the most sensitive nerves on her body. Buffy whimpered at the delightful torment, but he wouldn’t let her part her legs to give him better access, and he didn’t stay long. "But vampires aren’t alive, and neither are the things about us that we retain when we die." Once more, he spread kisses over her torso, and caressed her lightly. "Our taste buds, our lungs, our hearts, our seed, and oh, yes, our nerve endings. That’s why I can last so much longer than any human male I’d have killed you for fucking. That’s why I can come back for more, when someone alive would have been worn out. And, that, my darling girl, is why Dru liked her chains and why all of us have a certain fondness for whips. Nerve endings. It takes one whole hell of a lot to stimulate dead ones, and, to dead ones, pain feels every damned bit as good as pleasure." The caresses against her flank became more forceful, was revealed as not the brush of his fingers but the kiss of the whip. "I’m going to show you, darling. Never fear, this is one lesson you will learn, and delight in learning." Buffy shivered in dread, as he pressed gently on her shoulders, coaxing her onto her knees. "But not right now." Buffy almost wept in relief. Mindful of his earlier instructions, she kept her legs tightly together as she sank to the floor.
"Cup your breasts, for me, Buff." Hesitantly, she raised her hands to her breasts and did as he asked. "No, don’t cover the nipples, I want to see them. That’s right." Buffy continued to kneel for several moments, wondering what he was up to now. She didn’t have long to wait. "Charming," Angelus whispered in a voice thick with lust, just before he pressed his rock-hard shaft into the lush softness of her cleavage, and his hands moved over hers, to bring her breasts together over his engorged flesh. "Yesss," he hissed. "Always knew your tits were as fuckable as the rest of you, my love. Why don’t you demonstrate how just how fuckable they are?"
Buffy felt herself flush scarlet. With the relief of her fear, she found herself more aroused than ever. Holding her breasts together, she began to move up and down on Angelus’ shaft. With a groan, he tangled his hands in her hair, to steady himself, and thrust into her breasts, in tandem with her own movements. The fact that she couldn’t see him, couldn’t see what was really happening inflamed her senses all the more, as erotic visions of what things might look like crashed across her mind.
Angelus watched his lover through a haze of lust, delighted to see the same lust reflected in her features; her parted lips and flushed cheeks, the panting breaths as she moved on him. Her soft breasts against his rigid manhood were as delightful as he had imagined they would be, and he gave himself up to the decadent pleasure of her caress.
As he fucked her breasts, Angelus indulged in visions of what he would do to her when she was healed enough for more vigorous activity. He liked the way she had responded to the whip, with just the right mixture of fear and appreciation. Not that he had used it the way its makers had intended it to be used, the way he fully intended to use it, someday. For now, he had other plans for it. Wait until she felt the braided lash rubbing against her clit, or perhaps he could use the oiled handle up inside her while he fucked her delectable ass. Maybe both at once. He wasn’t trying to hold back his own pleasure, and the closer he got to release, the more heated his fancies became. He imagined Buffy in leather, chained to a wall, her nipples confined by harsher clamps than he had yet used, while he lifted her onto his cock and pounded her into the wall; Buffy going down on him, kneeling at his feet while one of the toys hummed inside her; Buffy as a vampire, her back running blood from his whip, as he leaned forward and licked it away while taking her from behind; a fragile, human Buffy riding him at a frenzied pace while he played with her gorgeous breasts. All the images had two things in common: Buffy would unfailingly explode in pleasure and he himself would unfailing explode right along with her, as her tight, eager little cunt, or her hot, avid mouth milked him of every last drop of his seed.
He wasn’t inside her, but her soft, full breasts made an admirable substitute. Angelus couldn’t hold out long, and didn’t want to.
"Are you ready, babe?" he growled. He took her responsive moan as a "yes" and allowed himself release.
Buffy gasped as his cool seed jetted from his erection, covering her breasts and hands and throat and chin. They continued to move together for a few frenzied moments, until Angelus gripped her shoulders, and held her still.
Angelus stood over her for a moment, recovering his strength. That had been delightful, but while he was momentarily sated, he was hardly done. The sight of Buffy on her knees before him, covered in his seed was rousing his appetite anew, and he was sure to be hard for her again in very short order. Buffy herself was shaking with unfulfilled desire, and there were so many delightful things he could do with her in that condition. With a smile Angelus pulled his softened cock from between her breasts and bent to whisper in her ear.
"Stay as you are, my love. Don’t move a muscle. I haven’t taken care of your needs yet, but I plan to do so. I’m going to clean up, and then I’m going to come back and clean you up. If I find those lovely fingers between those charming thighs, if you try to appease the hunger I’ve stirred–well, darling, I’ll be very disappointed. You don’t want to disappoint me, do you, my heart?"
Buffy bit back the very unwise answer that surged to the tip of her usually unguarded tongue. Now was so not the time for a challenge.
"I don’t want to disappoint you," she said, her voice sounding unusually husky, even to her own ears. She couldn’t help adding, "You unmitigated bastard." He had never objected to that particular appellation, and, to her chagrin, her voice hadn’t quite lost its husky note when she’d hurled it at him. So, she wasn’t surprised that Angelus chuckled, then kissed her passionately on the mouth, before he left her, kneeling and needy, in the middle of the room.
Buffy was swept by a maelstrom of conflicting emotions: unfulfilled lust was chief amongst them, but rage wasn’t far behind. She was angry at Angelus for his humiliating show of dominance, she was angry with herself for submitting to it, she was angry at the Watcher’s Council for developing the drugs and spells and rituals which could strip a Slayer of her God-given ability to kick vampiric ass from here to next Tuesday; drugs which had left her with no choice but to submit to Angelus.
And she was angry because part of her suspected that even without the drugs, she wouldn’t be going anywhere. Her lover had just promised to see to her unfulfilled needs, and Oh! how she wanted him to do just that. Over the past week, Angelus had taught her just how good he was at it, and she was hungry for the feel of his hands on her body, his lips against her flesh, his hard, cold cock deep inside aching, molten core. Even now, his cool seed was warming against her heated flesh, and while part of her was disgusted, another, larger part was reveling in the sensuality of it, in the intimate feel of her lover’s essence against her skin.
Despite this, yet another part, the Slayer’s heart of her, was coming perilously close to despair. She had fallen under the thrall of a demon. One of the creatures she had been born to destroy was subverting her to his will, and he was proving diabolically clever in keeping her at a disadvantage, and keeping her a prisoner. She had to break free, for her own sanity. She had to find a way to get out of the cottage, place a call to Giles, get help, get gone. The bathroom where Angelus had undoubtedly gone to clean up was in one direction, the door to the verandah and her freedom in another. If ever there were a time to run for it, surely this was it.
Right. Blindfolded, in these heels, and lets not forget the little gift he told you not to lose, her inner voice jeered. By the time you get out of those things, he’ll be finished cleaning up, and you so don’t want to know how he’ll react to your having moved when he told you not to. Plus, he’s such a manipulative bastard, he’s probably betting that you’ll do something like that, and hasn’t really gone to clean up, anyway. You can’t see a thing right now. For all you know, he hasn’t even left the room.
In this, Buffy was only partially correct. Angelus had left the room, but he had not gone to clean up. He was waiting, just outside the door. He knew that his Slayer might decide that the lessons he had for her were too harsh, that she might take his momentary absence as her cue to run. And, yet, the delightful lust of her body argued otherwise. Angelus smirked, remembering the way she had trembled for him. Even if she tried, she might find that she wasn’t really in any condition to run. Still, he needed to know which she would choose. Would she remain, obedient to his demand? Or would she offer more defiance? He normally enjoyed her defiance, but for some reason, he was rather hoping she would stay where he left her. He waited, with increasing agitation, for some sign that she was ready to bolt.
Inside the room, Buffy continued to debate with herself.
This could be your best chance, her Slayer side warned. It’ll only take a second to get out of these heels, and lose the toy and the blindfold. Don’t worry about clothing, don’t worry about shoes: get to a road and you can get help, tell them you were abducted and isn’t that the truth, for once. Do it now! You only have seconds before he’ll be back. Move!
But another part of her warned that this seeming opportunity to escape was more illusory than real.
Remember what happened on the ship, when you tried to stake him. He knew. He was just waiting for you to move so he could hurt you. Don’t be stupid. He’s already got the whip out. Don’t give him an excuse to use it the way it was meant to be used.
Don’t give him a reason not to make good on his last promise.
A soft moan escaped Buffy as a fresh wave of lust washed over her. The truth was, her body was making the most compelling argument to stay. Weak as she was with desire for her demon lover, she honestly had to admit she didn’t think she could put on the burst of speed needed to elude him. Right or wrong, she wasn’t going anywhere.
Angelus continued to watch the door for several tense minutes. As he finally allowed himself to believe that Buffy wasn’t going to leave him, a grin spread over his features. Angelus turned on his heel and quickly finished his walk to the bath.
When he returned to the bedroom, he found that Buffy hadn’t moved, and the sight of her kneeling precisely as he’d left her sent a bolt of pure animal satisfaction through him, a reaction he could not understand and did not wish to take the time to figure out. She pleased him. That was enough. Now, he would reward her.
Still lost in her conflicted musings, Buffy hadn’t heard him open the door, or noticed his approaching footsteps. Then again, he had been stealthy upon his return, wanting to keep her in suspense as long as possible, because he always enjoyed her reactions when he took her by surprise. So, he was pleased when she gasped softly as he drew a warm, wet cloth lightly over her body, cleaning away his seed. He had brought a bowl of water with him. Every so often, he would pause in his actions, and she would hear the sounds of cloth being swirled though liquid, then being rung out and the excess liquid dripping back into the bowl. Angelus bent to her lovely breasts, and he spent several moments longer than was absolutely necessary ensuring that all traces of their recent activity were removed.
Her other senses were still trying to compensate for the loss of vision imparted by the blindfold. The feel of her lover’s hands caressing her through the warm damp of the cloth was wonderfully erotic, and Buffy couldn’t help but lean into his touch. His return had ended all question of flight, and she pushed aside whatever lingering regret she felt at the missed opportunity, preferring to enjoy what he was doing rather than second guess her action, or inaction. Angelus smiled at the scent of her renewed arousal, and continued his caresses for a few more minutes. Eventually, though, his task was completed. He tossed the cloth back into the bowl, and set the bowl aside, on the bureau.
"Stand up, my love," he instructed Buffy as he turned back to her. "But don’t lose the object I’ve placed inside you."
Buffy frowned at the warning. She wasn’t sure that was possible, and wouldn’t it be just like Angelus to give her an impossible task so that he had an excuse to punish her for failing? Determined not to give him that excuse, she concentrated on her internal muscles, clenching them as best she could to keep the tiny cylinder in place. Slowly, she lifted herself from her knees, until she was standing as she had before, legs tightly together.
Angelus smiled wolfishly at the delectable picture she presented, then retrieved his whip, and grabbed the other items from the bed.
He walked a full circuit around her body, examining her with an artist’s eye, a connoisseur’s taste, and a glutton’s appetite. Simply stated, she was exquisite. Perfection. A beautifully rounded, golden skinned goddess in human form. He reached out with the whip and lightly traced her delectable curves with it, smiling as she shuddered in response.
She wasn’t done with the whip. She recognized the kiss of leather against her flesh. She wanted to weep, but had the uneasy suspicion that this would only increase whatever danger she might yet be in.
He could smell her fear again, and that pleased him. She really had learned her lesson. She really did know that much as he desired her, he was not ruled by that desire. Angelus conveniently ignored how the very fact that he felt it necessary to give her the lesson showed how deeply in the thrall of that desire he already was. Instead, he reached out to her, not with the whip, but with another object he had taken from the bed.
Buffy shivered at the first soft touch against her cheek. It was a bit disorienting, because she took it, at first, for the brush of his hair, but he hadn’t come close enough to her for that. Then, as it trailed lightly over her neck and collarbone, before dancing across her shoulder and back, she recognized it for what it was: the soft plume of the ostrich feather. Buffy relaxed. This didn’t seem terribly threatening.
Nor was it. At first.
It all came back to nerve endings. Angelus had warned her about the nerve endings of vampires. The correlation should have been obvious. Human nerve endings were ever so much more alive and responsive than the dead nerve endings of vampires, and none so much as those of a Slayer. Yes, her abilities were compromised, but they weren’t completely atrophied. Buffy trembled as Angelus drew out his caress.
The trick was, knowing what pleased her, Angelus thought as he watched her intently, learning from the hitch of her breath, the quiver in her skin, what she was enjoying, and what merely irritated or annoyed. So, he discovered that he should pay particular attention to the base of her spine, but ignore her shoulder blades. The back of her knee was responsive, the back of her thigh, above the stocking, was not. She liked the feather against her collarbone, but not her elbow. Whispering the feather over her legs where they were covered by the nylon stockings produced a particularly charming response, and when he finally brushed it very lightly against the swollen buds of her nipples, she couldn’t suppress a soft, needy moan.
Angelus danced the feather across her skin, around her body, over every delicate inch of flesh until she was whimpering in need. His ignored her swelling clit as long as possible, so that the first touch of the feather against it elicited a cry of pure hunger. He smiled at the sound, tossing aside the whip, and reaching for the bottle of lotion, while he continued to stroke the feather lightly across her breasts and belly.
Buffy moaned at the feel of something cool and wet being poured across her breasts while the feather tickled against her cheek. A moment later she nearly jumped out of her skin as the same cool wetness made itself felt between her thighs. Angelus, bastard that he was, ensured that the lotion was going where he wanted it, lightly rubbing it against her aching clit: but still not giving her the kind of pressure that would bring release.
A moment later his finger withdrew, and the only thing she could feel was the feather, stroking lovingly against the tops of her stiletto clad, nylon encased feet.
Buffy wondered if the outright brutality of the whip might not have been preferable to the slow, sensual torture of this continual heightening of arousal without a prospect of release. She was being driven out of her mind. What was he up to? What was his game this time? And, what had been the purpose of the lotion? It felt cool when he poured it over her, but it had dried quickly, and now she didn’t feel anything. Well, no. Actually, now that she thought about it, she was beginning to feel the tiniest curl of warmth, the slightest tingle. It wasn’t unpleasant. A moment later, she noticed a similar, lovely feeling on the bud of her clit.
A moment later, the pleasant warmth had turned to a burning fire, and the tingle to a needy burn.
"Angelus?" she gasped. His amused chuckle was her only response, along with another brush of the feather against her breasts that had her shrieking in need.
"Nerve endings, darling," Angelus reminded her. "The lotion is an irritant. It will stimulate your very lively nerve endings, making them even more responsive, more needy, more aroused than they would be on their own. Here, let me show you . . ."
He didn’t suckle at her breast, this time. He simply blew gently across each aureole and puckered nipple. Buffy whimpered, the sensation as intense as if he had tongued each stiffened peak. A few moments of his delicate attentions and she was sobbing openly. A gentle flick of the ostrich plume just above her aching clit had her shrieking once more, and she pitched forward, her trembling legs no longer able to keep her upright.
Angelus caught her, thrilled at her response. She was flushed and trembling, tears glistening on her cheeks, below the mask. Abruptly, he decided to make an end of the game.
He wanted to watch her come.
Angelus was usually so caught up in the feel of her around him, that he couldn’t devote his complete and undivided attention to watching her as she succumbed to the passion he brought her. Now, he could do so at his leisure. Smiling, Angelus pushed her gently back into an upright position.
The attack was brutal and quick and violent. Angelus hit the switch on the vibrator, and lightly rolled the dozen quivering metal spikes against her irritated clit, at the same moment he threw the switch on the toy inside her.
Buffy screamed in shock as her vulnerable clit was suddenly assaulted on two fronts. A thousand pinpricks of pleasure darted across the outside, while from within, a humming vibration danced across her nerves. She catapulted into orgasm almost at once, body bowed back with the force of her climax. In a very few moments, she found herself once more unable to stand.
Angelus watched, fascinated, as his gorgeous lover exploded into rapture, her lovely body drawn taunt with the sheer power of her release. He turned the switch on the toy inside her up another notch, and was rewarded as she cried out, trembling before him. He wasn’t surprised that she couldn’t remain standing, and moved forward to catch her in his arms. Still holding onto the toys, he carried his sobbing lover over to the bed and lay her down on the mattress. Settling on his side, next to her, he drew her into his arms once more, and began nursing at her breast. He pressed the switch on the toy again, and Buffy arched up against him, screaming and clutching him as another orgasm hit. Another roll of the spiked vibrator against her clit sent yet another climax crashing through her. Angelus decided to see just how many she could sustain . . .
Buffy was mindless, her body on fire, and every peak she reached did nothing to assuage the burn. It was almost as bad as what he had done to her the night before, except this was very localized, concentrated on her aureoles and her clit. Angelus was making no move to attain his own satisfaction, seemed fascinated by how hard and how long he could keep her peaking.
But she wanted his satisfaction. She wanted him inside her, and if she couldn’t get that, she wanted the next best thing. She released her death grip on his shoulders, and reached instead to his belt, her hands frenziedly trying to undo his fly once more. Angelus didn’t seem disposed to stop her, and she almost sobbed in relief when, seconds later, his strong, hard erection sprang free into her hands. She didn’t waste time. Buffy rose up on her knees, and switched positions, then settled back against her lover, using her hands to guide his rampant flesh into her mouth. Avidly she sucked him down.
Angelus hissed in pleasure, as his lover enveloped him in her wet heat. She had moved so that her enticing femininity was before him, and he lost no time pulling her hips closer, and suckling hard on her swollen clit. She wailed in response, another orgasm gripping her, and making her all that more greedy for the taste of his seed.
In short order, she proved she could be as ruthless as he. Vampires liked pain? She nipped none too gently at the head of his cock. Dead nerve endings needed a lot of stimulation? She brought her teeth and tongue and lips to bear. He wanted to see how much she could take? She would discover his own limits as well.
She was coming so hard his face was drenched with her, and sucking so voraciously on his cock, she had swallowed him to the root. She was rubbing her breasts against him and wrapping herself around him and she tasted and felt so damned good it was no miracle that she brought him off in a very few minutes so that he came, roaring, spilling himself down her throat.
He growled in pleasure. She growled right back. He pulled the still humming little toy out of her, tossed it away, and slid his own fingers deep inside her. She clamped down on his questing fingers, reaching one more peak as she drained the last of his seed from his still hard cock.
Eventually, the sheer human need to breathe got the best of her, and she let him go, then fell away, onto her back.
And that was when he proved his final point to her about nerve endings.
Angelus followed her, kneeling over her, and pulling her thighs apart to better get at her vulnerable center. His cool tongue swirled over her abused little clit as he forced her to one more nerve-shattering peak.
He didn’t need to breathe. And he wasn’t satisfied until she was limp and unmoving, her screams reduced to whimpers, her climaxes no more than gentle aftershocks. When he judged she had finally reached her limit, Angelus collapsed in his turn, and they lay together on the bed, unspeaking, gathering their strength.
Several moments passed. Eventually, though, Angelus moved. He sat up, reached over to Buffy and pulled off her blindfold, then gave her a quick, hard kiss. Buffy blinked up at him as he pulled away and stretched. He looked, she decided, like a jungle cat. A very well satisfied one. She was too well satisfied herself to resent that as much as she probably should.
"Where are you going?" Buffy inquired curiously as he got up and began pulling open drawers on the bureau. She didn’t see much point in moving, herself.
"I’m going to draw you another bath," he said with a grin. Buffy raised a brow.
"Why would I want to take another bath, now?"
"Well, I don’t suppose it’s really necessary," he said thoughtfully. "I just figured you’d want to clean up again, before you go out."
"Out?" Buffy sat up, staring at him in disbelief. "Out as in, in broad daylight in one of the sunniest places on earth, out? We’re going out?"
"Not me. You. With Mai. I thought you might enjoy a shopping trip."
"Yes," Buffy said slowly, as a thousand possibilities for escape rose unbidden to her mind, "I think I just might."
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The Silken Cage: Journey