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Author: Dark Star Email:
eternity_ds@hotmail.com Website: Dark Star's Portal Summary: The solution? Disclaimer: Joss
Whedon is creator and owner of
all things Angel Rating: Adult Warning: contains some
graphic content Notes: This is the 4th
part of my S&M series, and a direct sequel to Limits Notes: Thanks to dlgood,
because his insightful comments helped inspire this series. I hope I can do
justice to his suggestions. Pairing: B/A Category: Dark Distribution: Just ask,
please * * * Previously, in Limits: He was silent for a long
time, mulling over her words and wondering what to do about it. Finally, he
said, "In a few days, when you feel better, I promise that our next
session will be different." Her whole body
tensed. "It… it's too soon, Angel," she mumbled. "I
can't…" Her felt her
distress, and hurriedly added, "That's not what I meant, Buffy. I was
thinking that next time, I don't want to hurt you." She looked up at him
in confusion, and he gave her a slow smile. "Next time - I
want you to hurt me." *************** “I can't do this,” Buffy
said. “Yes, you can, “ Angel
assured her with a small smile. "Angel…" she
pleaded, and he gently took hold of her hand. "It's for the
best," he assured her. "I need to be reminded of what it feels like
to be on the receiving end, and not the one in control." "I don't want to
hurt you," she whispered. "Humour me?"
he asked. "All right,"
she reluctantly agreed. "Just a little flogging, though… I…I can't… you
know… stab you or anything." Buffy fidgeted on the
edge of the bed, where she was sitting nervously with Angel, and he waited
patiently for her decision. She took a very deep
breath, “I can do this, “ she announced, standing up. "I
can." Angel stood as well, gave
her an encouraging half-smile, and waited patiently for her instructions. Buffy stood up
straighter, squared her shoulders, and looked at Angel. What now? She thought wildly. What would Angel do? “Get undressed, “ she
ordered while she tried to think what to do. She watched in
fascination as his large hands moved to the buttons on his black shirt,
leisurely unfastening each one. He then peeled off the soft garment,
revealing the pale skin of his smooth chest before dropping the fabric on the
floor. Oh, boy…
Still moving painfully
slowly, the hands dropped to his waist, where he carefully unbuckled his
leather belt. His pants came next, undoing the fastening and his zip, to slip
the garment from his body. Buffy tore her gaze from
the expanse of gorgeous male flesh, and realised that he was watching her
keenly. She squirmed under his penetrating look, and she started to feel
irritated. She was meant to be in control, but it felt to her that Angel was
still very much in command of the situation, and the thought was pissing her
off. She watched him casually remove his boxers, his socks and shoes, while
she decided what to do about it. He was then standing
naked in front of her, totally unembarrassed by the situation; while Buffy
fidgeted awkwardly under his intense gaze. How do I change the
balance? She wondered, looking
up at his face; his expression was suitably solemn, but the dark eyes
twinkled with a mixture of amusement and anticipation. I’m looking up, she
realised. He’s too tall… no wonder it feels like he’s in charge. “Kneel down, “ she
instructed, and he obediently dropped to his knees without a word. That’s cool, she thought with
satisfaction. I could get used to this. Tentatively, she ran her
fingers gently through his hair, and watched him close his eyes in
appreciation. "Okay, " she
said, withdrawing her hand, "I want you next to the ceiling
chains." Angel rose and went to
stand beside the chains, and Buffy felt the first stirring of desire as she imagined
him fastened in them. Maybe this could be interesting after all, she mused. Clamping the cold
manacles on his broad wrists, Buffy tried to act professional and
businesslike. It was difficult, because she was enjoying her power over him,
and for the first time it occurred to her that she really could do anything
that she wanted to him. Anything at all. It was an exhilarating thought, but
she was very worried about causing him the pain he was expecting. Having completed her
task, she stepped back to observe the effect. He looked damn sexy, and she
couldn't resist the impulse to reach out and smooth her palm over his chest.
He shuddered, and she remembered how sensations were always more intense
under these conditions. She dropped her head, capturing his nipple with her
mouth, and amused herself there for a while, before licking all over his
chest and back. She was aware that she was stalling for time, but she enjoyed
watching him squirm and hearing his soft moans. She stopped her oral
teasing of him, and looked up again. His confident assurance was now gone,
replaced by dark eyes smouldering with arousal, and she felt an incredible
rush of power. She would have liked to spend more time pleasuring him like
this, but that wasn't what they were here for. She stepped back, and
made her way reluctantly to the wooden chest. She had never touched the chest
before, and had certainly never looked inside it. The thought made her feel
queasy, and she had to remind herself that this time, the contents weren't
for her. She knelt down next to
it, hesitating. Reaching forward, she grasped hold of the heavy lid and
hoisted it up. The contents of the box were immaculately stored. Angel always
took very good care of his toys, and spent ages cleaning and caring for them.
So it was no surprise that everything inside was laid out so neatly. Every
item was wrapped in some kind of protective cover, and there were a lot of
things in there that she had never seen before. As she inspected the
contents, she grew more sober. She had always suspected that Angel could hurt
her much more than he did; and the items inside the chest exceeded her worst
fears. Many of the things Angel had never used on her, and she fervently
hoped that he never did. Some things she hadn't the slightest idea what they
were for, conjuring up some very frightening imagery, and quite a few she had
experienced intimately. Curiously unwrapping three mystery parcels encased in
the mottled brown skin of a Krowoni demon to reveal a saw, a small axe and some
kind of chisel-thing, she hurriedly rewrapped them and stuffed them back
inside the box, her stomach contracting in revulsion. What am I doing here?
She thought wildly. Not really wanting to
touch the contents more than she had to, she carefully placed things on the
floor, looking instead for his collection of whips. She found them in a
special compartment at the bottom of the box; Angel had used a great many of
them on her, but she was still unprepared for the amazing variety that he
had. Having already seen more than she wanted to, she snatched up a familiar
whip with narrow thongs and retreated back to her captive. The damned chest had
unnerved her, and she clenched hard on the handle of the leather whip as she
stood behind him and attempted to regain her composure. Angel waited
expectantly for her to begin, but when time passed and nothing happened, he
began to fidget in his uncomfortable position. Buffy smiled in spite of
herself. Oh, she knew that feeling well; the anticipation while she waited
for the first strike to fall. Well, make him wait. He wanted to remember what
it felt like, didn't he? Enjoying his
apprehension for a while longer, Buffy decided it was time to get things
moving. So far, Angel had no idea what she was planning to use, and Buffy
contemplated whether to show him or just get on with it. Angel liked to show
her what he was going to do; if he showed it to her, he would use it,
though not necessarily in the way she was expecting. Her own imagination
supplied the possible uses for it, sensitising her before he even laid a hand
on her. Buffy had no interest in
playing mind games. She didn't even want to be here - so she decided to just
get it over with. Positioning herself carefully, she raised the whip and
brought it down on his back. He tensed but made no sound, and Buffy knew she
hadn't hit him all that hard. That hadn't gone too badly, so she brought
several more strikes down on his back. She watched his muscles bunch at the
contact, but she felt strangely disappointed when he still didn't make any
sound. This wasn't going too
well, because he hadn't so much as gasped, and Buffy realised that they were
going to be here all night if she didn't change tactics. Selecting a spot on his
shoulder, she brought the whip down much harder. It landed wide of her chosen
place, but at least she got a small sound from him. Inspired by her success,
she practised getting the strands to go where she wanted them to - it was
much harder to do than it looked - and found that she liked the little moans
that he made when the leather met his skin. Cause and effect, she
thought, as she brought the whip down again and again. He was beginning to
react to her, just a little, and the sight gave her a little rush of
excitement. After a while, she
stopped to make sure she had done him no real damage. Logically, she knew
that a vampire's body was much tougher than human, but still, it didn't feel
right hitting him and she wanted to be certain that all was well. His skin was red, but
not severely so, and oddly, Buffy felt a little disgruntled. By now, her skin
would have been raw, and fairly painful. This whip was too mild for him,
then. That was a nuisance, because she'd chosen it for the sting it imparted
on impact. Returning to the chest
with more confidence that she had last time, she sorted through the various
striking implements. She pulled the cane out, and considered using that. She
put it to one side for possible use later. The sting of that was
exquisite. Going back to the whips, laid out in neat rows like soldiers
waiting for battle, she scanned the lines looking for something interesting
to use. She picked up one
curiosity, and found that it had hooks attached to the tails of the strips,
and she realised with horror that it would do incredible damage when jerked
back for another strike. She shuddered and put it back in the rows. Her hand
closed over an interesting whip made of chains, and she picked it up. Angel
had never used this one on her, so she had no first hand knowledge of what it
felt like. Having chosen her whip,
she triumphantly carried it back to her victim, actually looking forward to
seeing his reaction to it. "This is
nice," she teased, showing him her choice. "Bet it makes pretty
marks." Angel met her gaze
without flinching. But something crossed his face when he first saw
the whip, before he hid the reaction. What was he thinking? Buffy shook the whip
lightly, making the chains chink together. She was enjoying this part of the
game; reaching up, she pulled his head down and kissed him hard, before
pulling away and leaving him wanting more. Sauntering away, she
went behind him and took up her 'flogging position'. Raising the whip, she
suddenly brought it down in one sharp movement. Angel jerked in pain, and
appalled, she watched as droplets of blood appeared in thin lines along his
back. "Oh!" She
exclaimed; "Angel… it… it's…" "Bleeding. Yeah, I
know," he replied tightly. "I'm sorry. I
didn't mean to…" She moved toward him but paused when Angel said,
"Don't stop." "What?" "It's what we're
here for, isn't it?" he replied impatiently. "Yes, but… I don't
want to make you bleed." "Why not?" he
replied harshly. "I've done it to you enough times." Her fingers clenched the
whip involuntarily. "Doesn't mean I want to do it to you." "No?" Angel
pulled himself up straighter. "I want to use it on you. We can do
that, if you'd rather." "No!" she
blurted before she could stop herself. "Fine. You'd better prepare
yourself, then." Buffy raised the whip,
hesitating because this time, she knew what was going to happen. She brought
the whip down, pulling back at the last minute; the chains struck down, and
Angel jerked. "Harder," he growled in frustration. Fuelled by Angel's growl,
she brought the whip down again, trying not to think about what kind of
damage it was going to do to him, or how she would know when to stop. More
red lines appeared on his skin, and Buffy did her best to ignore them and hit
him again. And again; each strike brought another line or more to his back,
and each time he twitched in pain. Blow after blow landed, and Angel began to
respond more to her. After a particularly sharp blow, he yelped, and Buffy
thought triumphantly, Hah! Not so good when you're on the receiving end,
is it? By now, Angel's back was
lined with thin stripes of blood that was started to resemble a lattice
pattern. Buffy forced herself to keep going; it was what Angel wanted, and
she had the odd thought that even here, when Angel was the victim, he was still
in control. The notion annoyed her, and the whip came down particularly hard
and made him swear. That was more satisfying, and Buffy tried not to notice
the blood that was starting to run down his back. Her eyes grew watery, and she
tried to blink the tears away, because she couldn't see where she was
hitting; on a human captive this would be dangerous. But a vampire had no
internal organs that could be damaged, and in the end Buffy just gave up and
continued doggedly on through eyes that were too cloudy to see properly. Her aim was impeccable,
even without watching what she was doing; her slayer reflexes kicked in and
guided her aim. Closing her eyes had another - unpleasant - effect; because
it transported her back to all the times she had been the captive. Memories flooded her, and she again
became the victim, reliving all the times that she had felt frightened, or
helpless, or robbed of her dignity; All the times that the unspeakable agony
had been the only issue in her whole damned painful world. Her recent session
with Angel was particularly fresh in her mind, and her jaw tightened in
anger. Angel disappeared
through a haze of tears. The room span, and ceased to exist; she focussed on
Angel's cries of pain with a grim determination. Serve you right, she
thought coldly. Let's. See. If. You. Fucking. Like. It. Every word was
punctuated with a particularly harsh strike to his skin, and her ears became
clogged with intense, pounding, noise. A roaring sound filled her
ears, almost drowning out the swish and rattle of the whip, the tones of her
ragged and crazed breathing, and her frustrated sobs as Angel yelled in pain.
Yes. Yes…yes…yes…yes…yes... yes…yes… Something red flashed
across her fuzzy vision and her arm stopped in mid air. Buffy blinked, trying
to see through her tears, and stared stupidly at the blood soaked object in
her hand. Blood clung to the strands, obscuring the original metal. Blood
dripped from the tips, ran down and coated the handle. Blood smeared all over
her fingers and streaked down over her hand to soak into the fabric of her
sleeve. Her eyes widened in
horror, and she dropped the horrid object on the floor in disgust. Her arms prickled when
she realised what it meant, and slowly, she forced herself to look at Angel.
And she gasped in shock. He stood slumped forward, arms held taut in the
harsh chains, his head hanging down. His breathing was ragged, his body
shaking, and his back was a torn and bloody mess. There was so much blood that Buffy could hardly see what
was left of his skin; what she could see, was lumpy and ridged, torn
flaps of skin only barely attached to his body. Buffy whimpered,
stepping involuntarily back; her hands went to her face, and heedless of the
blood coating her fingers, she clamped them over her mouth to stop herself
expelling her breakfast. "Buffy?" Using
enormous force of will, Angel pulled himself upright. "Are you all
right?" Buffy gulped, ashamed
that Angel was asking her if she was all right, and she made herself
go toward him. "I'm sorry,"
she whispered, "I'm so…" "It's
alright," he reassured her. "It'll be all right." "It won't, Angel.
You haven't seen…" "I know what
the whip does, Buffy. I'll heal." "But it looks awful." "Then it's probably
a good thing I can't see it," Angel grunted. "Why don't you let me
down?" "I…" Buffy
mumbled, but she couldn't make herself move. She couldn't believe that she
had actually done such an awful thing to Angel, and she felt sick with
disgust. "Buffy?" He
lowered his tone, attempting to reach her with only his voice.
"Buffy?" Still nothing. "Listen to me, baby. I'm going to be
all right, but you have to unchain me." Something in his voice
reached her, and she tottered forward on legs that felt like rubber. Hands
shaking, she unfastened the chains on both of his wrists. Angel gritted his
teeth, and somehow managed not to collapse against her - knowing how much
that would freak her. He allowed Buffy to support him and they both staggered
to the bed where he sank down heavily. Buffy instantly stepped away. "I'll get the
bandages," she said, but Angel grabbed her arm to sop her leaving him. "Stay with
me?" "I need to dress
your cuts," she told him primly. "In a minute,"
he soothed. "Stay with me?" he asked again, and when she hesitated
he added, "Please?" "You're bleeding on
the bed," she mumbled, but she took Angel's hand when he held it out to
her, and she sat stiffly next to him. She could see the abandoned whip lying
on the floor, and she thought irreverently that Angel was going to be annoyed
at her carelessness with his toys. Neither spoke; Angel didn't mind as long
as he could keep her from dressing his wound; the longer he could distract
her, the more chance his body had of repairing itself and not scare her so
much. Buffy raised her hand to
nervously sweep her hair away from her face, and Angel tried not to notice
his blood on her hand, or where it had rubbed off on her face; his stomach
growled with hunger; blood would help the healing process, but he couldn't
bring himself to ask for any. "I'm sorry,"
Buffy eventually murmured. "I didn't mean to go that far." "What
happened?" he asked gently. "I don't
know," she shrugged. "One minute I was just… and then… I lost
control, I guess." She fell silent again,
and Angel asked, "What were your thoughts?" "My thoughts?"
She repeated, raising her eyebrows. "How about, take that, you
bastard?" "You wanted to
punish me?" Buffy flinched.
"That would be sick." "But did you?"
he persisted. "Yes." She
whispered, finally meeting his eyes. "Angel, I was so mad at you.
All those years, all that terrible pain." She closed her eyes to stop
the tears that threatened to escape, and she managed to force them back.
"I remembered so many things that I've tried to forget, and I just
wanted to pay you back." "It's okay,"
he told her, his arm going round her shoulders to comfort her. "What
you're feeling now is normal." "Normal?" she
echoed, her voice rising by a couple of octaves. "Yes," he confirmed.
"Buffy… this is what I was hoping for when I suggested this
session." "I don't
understand." "I knew… that you
were angry with me, that you had issues with what we… what I do to you.
I thought if I could get you to release some of that frustration it would
help you; maybe you could do it on a regular basis as some kind of
therapy." "Oh," she
said, her eyes wide. "It's not some kind of penance that you felt that you
deserved, then?" Angel winced at her
sarcasm. "Well, maybe a little," he allowed. "It doesn't
matter," she shook her head vehemently. "I couldn't do it
anyway." "Buffy, it's
okay," he soothed. "I'm a vampire. This level of pain is acceptable
to me. You can't injure…" "That's not what I
meant," she said sheepishly. "What, then?" Buffy squirmed. "I
wanted…" she took a deep breath and admitted, "I enjoyed it,
Angel." Angel tried not to laugh
at her pained admission. "I think you're admitting that to the wrong
person," he said wryly. "You think I don't enjoy hurting you?" "That's
different," she snapped. "You're not…" She broke off,
wide-eyed. She hadn't said human or normal but the words hung
in the air between them. Angel flinched, but tried not to show his hurt. She
was right, of course. He wasn't either of them, but they had been together
for a long time, and he had hoped she saw him as something other than an evil
thing. "We all have
sadistic tendencies, Buffy. Vampire or human, it's in all of us." "I don't believe
that." "No? Haven't you
ever been fighting but had to hit the demon just once more to make him
squirm, even though you know you've won? Never argued with anyone and then
lashed out verbally because they've hurt you?" "It's not the
same." "Isn't it?"
Angel countered. "How many little boys have you seen that enjoy
torturing insects? That like pulling wings off flies or legs from
spiders?" Buffy shrugged.
"Small boys do that, sometimes." "Yes. But as they
grow up, they learn it isn't acceptable behaviour and stop doing it. The urge
doesn't go away - they just suppress it." "Your point?" "Just that, I think
it will help you if we change roles occasionally. I get to remember what it
feels like to be helpless, and you get to work off your frustration. What do
you think?" "If that's what you
want," she replied tiredly, standing up and deliberately changing the
subject. "I'm going to get the bandages, now." Angel attempted to stop
her, but she simply stepped out of reach, and he let her go. He hadn't had
the answer he wanted from her, but perhaps she needed time to think about it.
There had to be another way to help her, and it was up to him to find it. As she moved toward the
bathroom, Angel allowed his shoulders to slump with fatigue. It had taken a
massive effort to sit tall and straight, but he hadn't wanted her to realise
how badly she had hurt him. While it was true that vampires could take more
than a human, they did still feel pain; but he had put her through so much
more than this in the past, and the least he could do was take whatever
punishment she felt that he deserved. When Buffy returned she
made him turn round so that she could deal with his injuries. While she efficiently
cleaned and dressed his wounds, Angel pondered this latest development. With
the new limits they had recently installed, and the opportunity to take turns
at the Top - would things get any more interesting, or was this all a huge
mistake? End. Part five ~ New Boundaries
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