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Title: Versailles Undone
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/OCs
Rating: R for pet!Spike, toys, spanking, electric shocks, not worksafe.
Summary: What would have become of Spike if he had never escaped from the Initiative? In the wake of fierce overcrowding of its demonic captives, the Initiative finds a solution that both provides ample funding for their research and makes room for new subjects for their experiments.
Versailles Undone
Chapter Three: le Jardin de Charise.
The chiming of bells roused Spike from his sleep. With all the drugging he had endured while in captivity, he had stirred with an anticipation and fear that being released back into the outside world was all a fevered dream. He sat up quickly to find himself not on the cold tiled floor of his cell but rather a luxurious feather mattress, surrounded by fluffy pillows and blanketed by layers of silky sheets and a thick comforter.
Charise was sitting in bed beside him, reading from one of the naming books he'd seen the night before. She glanced over as he sat up and playfully tugged on one of the long curls that was hanging over his forehead.
"Morning, Bashful," she smiled, "I was beginning to think that you'd sleep the day away."
Resisting a sarcastic comment about it being natural for vampires to sleep during daylight hours, Spike tried to be more polite, "I'm sorry. I've not slept well in a while."
"I suppose not. Didn't seem as though those cells were very comfortable," Charise shut her book and set it aside as she got out of bed to pull on her brocade robe over her negligee.
Spike got the impression he was supposed to follow her as she walked over to a door nearly hidden in the paneling of her chamber. He slipped on his robe which was laid across the end of the bed and stopped when he came to the doorway. The secret entry led to a large parlor with huge windows, the heavy damask curtains drawn back to bathe the room in light.
Charise looked over her shoulder and patted her thigh as one would do to call a house-pet, "Come along. The sun can't hurt you in here."
Spike stayed close the wall, edging his way inside until he realized that being in the direct light was not causing his skin to smolder. He held out his arm, feeling the pleasant heat spread over him.
"I've had most of the windows in the house replaced with necro-tempered glass, so you will be able to walk about freely in the rooms you're allowed in," Charise sat down at a round table, her maid tucking the train of her robe behind her chair while still more attendants appeared with a tea service and trays of food.
Framboise held out the second chair at the table for Spike and gestured for him to sit. He felt strange being waited on, but he took his seat and watched the flurry of movement as breakfast was served. A large plate of pain perdu was placed in front of him followed by a bowl of fresh cream topped with a variety of berries. Charise was handed the morning paper on a tray by Poire who then poured her tea. Spike stared at the fluffed up toast on his plate. It looked quite tasty, but as delightful to the taste-buds it might have been, Spike was more concerned with eating something that would actually sustain him. As if on cue, Citron brought another tea tray over and poured blood into the teacup on the vampire's saucer. Spike's mouth was practically watering before the valet had finishing pouring. It took a lot of restraint to not simply grab the teapot and chug down the whole thing. The first draught from the cup made Spike realize that this meal was not human blood, but something sweeter that he could not recognize.
The vampire was on his third refill when he finally glanced over at his keeper. He tried to discern any information about his whereabouts from the small newspaper Charise was holding. He noted the title was Événements de la Maison (Happenings of the House) and realized that it was nothing more than a detailed itinerary of household goings-on, such as which staff members would be present in certain parts of the house, which rooms would be closed for cleaning, and the menus for lunch, tea, and dinner, all in French of course.
Somewhere, in this monstrosity of a house, someone is getting paid to make a glorified to-do list that looks like an actual periodical, Spike mused to himself as he took a pastry from the tiered tray at the center of the table, This girl is either too insanely wealthy to know better ways to spend her money or she's just insane. Possibly both.
While sampling a few bites of the other breakfast fare, Spike took the time to begin to study Charise's movements. He found it strange that, though she had touched him with a carefree assuredness, her hands shook when she grasped other things. Placing the paper back on its tray, picking up her teacup, running her knife through the bread, bringing the fork to her lips, all seemed to cause her some kind of nervousness, as though she was over-thinking every small action.
Maybe she's afraid of dropping something. If I had a home filled with expensive things, I wouldn't care- Wait half a mo'... I did live in a home with expensive things... that I broke all the time. Mother never seemed to mind though, Spike cut off that line of thought before his stomach got the twisting feeling that came when he reminisced about his human family and switched to a different topic, I just go from one crazy person to another. At least this one has probably already been to soddin' France by the looks of her frou-frou lifestyle.
"Is your breakfast all right?" Charise asked to clear the uncomfortable silence, her teacup rattling as she placed it back on its saucer.
Spike nodded, "Best stuff I've had in months."
That answer seemed to please her, and it wasn't a lie on Spike's part. He could already feel his strength returning along with the strange rolling sensation just beneath the surface of his skin that accompanied his normal weight returning. It could take up to a week of healthy feeding before his muscles would completely fill out as Spike had learned during a few scrapes he'd run into in the past where he had been without regular blood for long periods of time. However, he'd never gotten thin to this extent before, not even in his human life, and he was beginning to worry that it could take a lot longer to get his body back in shape.
Charise pushed the toast on her plate a little with her fork as she explained, "I've got to take care of some business this morning, so the tour will have to wait until it's done."
Spike really did not have a response though he didn't suppose she wanted one. Once the breakfast things were cleared away, he followed her back into her bedroom like the obedient pet he was pretending to be. Charise went behind her dressing screen with her maid and into, what he assumed, was her bathroom or closet. Spike sat on the edge of her bed, which had already been made while they were eating, and fiddled with the velvet cuff of his robe. He was growing bored already, and he definitely didn't want to wait anymore. After being relegated to a cell for the better part of a three months, he was ready to snatch the remote to his shock collar and bolt. The thought of running off without it crossed his mind, but he worried that it might have a limitless range, and he could be shocked into unconsciousness or until he returned to "Madame."
Flopping backwards onto the bed, Spike stared up at the tall canopy of Charise's bed. There was a ridiculous amount of ostrich feathers, dyed pink, green, blue, and marigold, stuffed around the top to match the embroidered floral pattern of her comforter and the fabric plastered up the headboard. The furniture in the room was a mix of Style Louis XIV, Louis XV, and Louis XVI, and the vampire couldn't tell if they were reproductions or originals, but there was an antique odor about the room. Hoping to stave off his listlessness, Spike grabbed one of the naming books Charise had been reading when he had woken up. A few names were written in a flowing, fanciful script on a scrap of paper tucked into the dust-jacket.
Aubrey... Darcy... Geoffry... Nathaniel... Sidney... Vincent... William...
Charise finally emerged from behind her screen, dressed to the hilt in a yellow gown, with Framboise and promptly went to her vanity table to apply make-up and fix her hair. Spike held in a sigh; he used to dress Drusilla and himself in less time than she was taking. Harmony was another story. The vampire flipped through more pages of the book as he waited and wished he could figure out why Charise simply did not ask him what his name was. He was beginning to feel like a pre-owned cat; the previous owners may have called the cat "Snowball," but the new owners are determined to call it "Whiskers" or something else that would be totally absurd to the cat who knew its damned name was "Snowball.''
Charise turned to him as she slid the back onto her earring, "Don't worry, Bashful. You'll get a real name soon."
"What about 'Spike?'" he couldn't hide the hopeful tone in his voice.
She laughed loudly and then replied, "Oh, sweetheart, that's no name for a pretty boy like you. That's the kind of name you give a pit bull or, ironically, a poodle."
Spike wanted to growl, but refrained. There was nothing wrong with his name. It was his, and he'd earned it by taking out half his graduating class with railroad spikes. The bastards had deserved it too. A knock at the door brought him out of his crossness as Charise ushered in Pomme who was carrying several pieces of clothing over her arms.
"You can dress in here since I'm on an unexpectedly tight schedule today," Charise said with a disappointed sigh.
Spike's eyes narrowed as his chosen outfit for the day was carefully placed on the bed. There was entirely too much pink for his liking. Unlike being in the military facility, he was not instructed to remove his clothing; the maids just began undressing him with little fanfare. He was somewhat irritated that Charise could dress in relative privacy, but he was stripped in the middle of the room to be gawked at by anyone walking around.
Spike shifted from one foot to the other as a pair of short silk drawers were held out for him to slip on. There was a silent thankfulness that these undergarments were not sheer and didn't have quite so much lace on them, so it made it easier to pretend they were just boxers. His arms were lifted as a corset was brought around his middle. It wasn't cinched uncomfortably tight, but the lacing had to be drawn out quite a bit to accommodate his thin frame. As he was shoved into a full shirt, waistcoat, stockings, breeches, and heeled buckled shoes, Spike found himself missing wool trousers and combinations. Charise wrapped a soft stock around his neck, covering up the pearl shock collar, pinning it with a small gold medallion. Lastly, he was allowed to put on his coat by himself, which matched the rest of the outfit with its olive green colour with a pink and white striped lining on the inside. Spike felt like a piece of taffy. As if his humiliation wasn't complete, the vampire also had to submit to letting his lips be painted with a transparent gloss while his hair was being brushed back away from his face.
"We'll have to bring someone in to dye his hair," Charise said, gently running her fingers over the back of Spike's head.
Framboise straightened the vampire's coat collar, "Are you going to keep it blonde? It seems a little harsh."
Charise took Spike's chin between her thumb and forefinger and lifted it so she could get a better look at his face, "I think the blonde's going to stay. I like how it sets off his bone structure."
Taking his arm, Charise pulled Spike to his feet, and they left the maids in her bedchamber as they ventured downstairs. Spike didn't have any trouble walking in heels (he'd had some interesting adventures during the 1970's and 80's), though learning how to stay as close to Charise as she wanted while she was wearing wide panniers took some watchfulness on his part. Spike tried to take in as much of the mansion's layout as possible as they walked. There were so many doors, halls, and niches that Spike couldn't even be certain that the large arched doorway at the end of the vestibule downstairs actually led outside. Glancing through the windows showed him nothing familiar in the landscape, just a dense cluster of trees beyond a tall, neatly manicured hedge.
Pushing through heavy double doors, Charise showed the vampire into a round salon, the walls lined with bookshelves and enormous reproductions of Fragonard's the Progress of Love. In the middle of the room was an enormous Bureau du Roi, the polished wood heavily engraved and lavishly gilded, with a straight-backed plush chair behind it.
Charise pointed to an overstuffed ottoman to the left side of the bureau and said, "Sit."
Spike sat, almost falling over when the corset did not give enough. He watched her lift the cylindre on the desk, revealing a laptop and other modern office accoutrements. A stack of envelopes was neatly waiting next to the computer, and she began to slice the tops of them with a letter opener. Spike licked his lips as he watched her, hoping for an accidental prick or at least a paper-cut. She read her mail and wrote responses on her stationery with a faux quill pen. He hid a smirk as he realized that even someone trying to live in a fantasy of their own making had to have some modern creature comforts, like pens that didn't blot all over one's hands. He took notice of his own hands, how they used to be so ink-stained he worried that it would become permanent like a tattoo. It was then that he realized his nails had been cleaned and filed. He'd chipped off most of the polish he had been wearing out of boredom after getting captured by the commandoes, but now they were uniform and a little shiny.
After folding her written response, Charise put the paper in an envelope and handed it to Spike, "Could you lick that closed, please?"
Spike did so, grimacing at the taste of the glue on the flap. Charise covered her mouth to hide her amusement. As she went through her correspondence, she would continuously hand him more envelopes to seal. Turning one of them over, Spike noted a return address was already printed on the left top corner of the envelope.
Charise St. Char, CEO
c/o Simply Charming Publications
P.O. Box 1793
Valmont, Oregon 97701-1793
Spike suddenly realized why the CSC initials displayed throughout the house had caught his attention. The same design was the logo for a brand of tawdry historical romance novels that he'd had the misfortune to read over the years since they came on the market in the 1940's. A major competitor for Harlequin Enterprises and Silhouette Books, Simply Charming novels were more sensationalized and overtly explicit in their sexual content, and they almost exclusively dealt with the historical genres- countesses with "heaving bosoms struggling against their confinement" and country gentlemen with bulging breeches filled with "turgid yearnings." Looking down at his own breeches, Spike suddenly understood where Charise's obsessive attention to her surroundings had come from and also how she had been able to afford such an extravagant lifestyle.
Loud footfalls caused Charise's head to turn towards the entrance to her study. Without knocking, a tall, grim-looking man wearing a plain business suit and carrying a briefcase walked into the room. His mouth was thin with deep-set smoking lines at the corners, and his salt-and-pepper hair was meticulously brushed and pomaded back. The man glanced at Charise and then at Spike, his expression darkening further.
"It doesn't hurt you to announce yourself, you know," Charise sighed.
"Just because you play at this ridiculous fantasy, do not expect me to stoop to it," the man frowned.
She blew a stray curl away from her face and replied, "Didn't seem to bother you too much when you were brown-nosing my grandmother."
Spike laughed quietly at the intentionally double-entrendre tone Charise used.
"I see you went ahead with purchasing a plaything," the man addressed Charise though he glared at Spike.
"He's not a plaything," Charise responded and placed her hand on top of Spike's head, "He's mine."
Spike felt as though she was trying to be protective of him, which was nice in a way. He supposed it was better than getting tasered every time he dared to open his mouth.
"Bashful, this is Dolmancé. He's the Châtelain around here, majordomo'ing and whatnot when I can't go into my actual office," Charise explained. "Dolmancé, this is Baby-Needs-a-Name... I'm working on it."
"Have you bothered to approve the new contracts for the Deep Green line?" the older man spat, obviously in no mood to hear about his employer's new pet.
Charise bit the inside of her cheek, appearing as though she was refraining from saying what she truly wanted to, and then to Spike said, "Sweetheart, why don't you go up to your room and take a nap, and I'll come and get you when it's time for lunch? You can find your way back upstairs, right?"
Spike stood up and did a little bow, "Yes, Madame."
As he left the room, he heard Dolmancé raise his voice to say, "You've even got that thing cooperating in your frivolous play-acting."
"Don't call him a thing, you pathetic old cu-"
Spike was somewhat surprised to hear some of the language the prim woman used. He could hear her tirade as he walked back upstairs. He thought for a moment that he would explore at his leisure, but then remembered what Charise had told him about the windows in the house- only the rooms in which he was allowed had the special tinting in the windows that would not burn him. However, he did find the idea of actually trying to sleep so shortly after waking up impossible.
Once inside his own apartments, Spike caught a glimpse of Pomme and Pêche inside the interior salon reading magazines. He walked around his bedroom and began curiously opening some of the cabinets. He found books and writing supplies in one, but in another he found far more interesting items.
Dildos and floggers and buttplugs, oh my! Spike ran his hand over some of the toys inside the cabinet.
There were cockrings, some light bondage gear, and all manner of sexual aids, and it was all brand new. Picking up a heavy plug, Spike felt his silk boxers grow too tight as he thought about using it. It had been too long since he was able to pleasure himself in private. After a quick check to make sure the maids were still engrossed in their reading material, Spike took a few toys from the cabinet along with a bottle of lubricant and made his way into the bathroom.
Shutting the door quietly, the vampire went to work finding a proper spot for a wank. Bypassing the wanna-be gyno-chair that he had woken up on when he was first brought to Charise's home, Spike looked into the sunken bathtub in the room. There was a seat carved into the wall of the tub, and it seemed to be as good a place as any. Spike shimmied out of his clothes, except for the corset which he had no way of unlacing. Slipping down into the tub with the toys lined up along its edge, Spike sat down and flicked open the bottle of lubricant. He poured the transparent gel into his palm and firmly rubbed the slick up and down his penis.
Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, Spike found himself relaxing instantly, his member beginning to fill with very little stimulation. He picked up a set of anal beads from the pile of toys and drizzled some of the lube over it. Propping up his foot and pushing his ass towards the edge of the seat, Spike was able to have better access to his hole. It took up some maneuvering, but he was able to push the first bead inside without any further preparation. Spike had always been tight, and the slight pain as he stretched himself with each bead made his cock throb.
Yanking on the beads and then pushing them back in had Spike panting, but he decided it was time for something a little bigger. He picked up a large vibrator and lubricated it while marveling at all the little nubs and accessories it seemed to have. Setting the beads aside, Spike pushed the head of the vibrator inside of his body. The resistance of his muscles to the intrusion became more apparent as he tried to bear down on the firm silicon. He switched the vibrator on and was surprised at some of the sensations he experienced. It had been a long time since Spike had gotten the chance to use any adults toys, and things had changed since the days of ordering specialty items out of the back of Hustler and Penthouse. As he began to pull the phallus in and out of his entrance, not only did the toy vibrate, but it rotated in alternating directions, the little nubs along its sides rubbing his inner walls sensually. The silicon butterfly rotor that arched up from the base of the vibrator pressed up against the underside of Spike's balls, making him moan softly.
"Technology is bloody amazing," the vampire said as he pushed the vibrator up as far as it would go into his body and then began to fondle himself with both hands.
Just as he was getting close to his climax, from behind him a voice said firmly, "Seventeen."
Spike nearly dove headfirst into the empty bathtub. He scrambled to turn around and get to his feet as Charise tapped her heeled shoe in the doorway of the bathroom. She looked extremely brassed off.
"Come here," she glared at him and pointed at the floor in front of her.
Spike stood and embarrassedly started to try to remove the toy from his person.
"No, leave it," Charise then repeated, "Come here."
Obeying, Spike went to stand where she indicated. Charise kept eye contact with him as she reached behind him and yanked out the vibrator, throwing it on the floor. Spike winced at the pain and grabbed her arm. When his wrist clamped around hers, Charise was quick to pull remote to his shock collar from her reticule and press the 'X'-shaped button. Spike screamed and let go of her as a horrible electrical wave shot through his body, making him take a knee on the marble floor.
Taking her finger from the button, Charise reached out to place her hand on his shoulder, but Spike growled and vamped, trying to bite her. She set the collar off again just as the chip inside his brain began to fire, and Spike let out an animalistic roar as his body trembled from the multiple shocks. Finally, he fell flat against the floor, his forehead pressed into the cold stone.
"Bad boy!" Charise admonished. "I gave you a simple command, and you could not follow it."
Spike made a small whimper, unable to make any sounds besides unintelligible mumbling as he recovered from the jolts.
Charise moved away from the doorway and pointed to one of the chairs in his bedchamber, "Get yourself over there. Crawl."
His arms shaking as he pushed himself onto his knees, Spike slowly dragged himself into the room. Once he was near the chair Charise had indicated, she grabbed him around the middle and made him bend over the plush seat. She was a lot stronger than he had given her credit for, and he groaned as the boning of the corset dug into the root of his penis. She forced his legs apart with the toe of her shoe and moved his hands to rest in the small of his back. From the toy cabinet, Charise brought out an oval-shaped wooden paddle.
"You're going to get punished for disobedience, but you can save yourself from worse if you apologize," she told him as she tapped the paddle against his buttocks to let him feel the weight of it.
"Sod off," Spike replied through gritted teeth.
The paddle landed sharply against his ass, his still-erect cock trapped between his body and the sharp gilding of the chair's frame. Five more blows came down hard, and Spike was gasping as his face rubbed against the brocaded fabric beneath him.
"I don't know if you're ungrateful or just slow, but how in the world did you interpret "take a nap" as "go play with your prick?"" Charise smacked his left cheek and then his right in rapid succession.
"I'm not going to apologize for touching my own cock," Spike groaned out as the paddle continued to hit its mark.
Charise went back to the cabinet and took out a thick leather strap, "I knew it was too good to be true. You were too polite and too perfect. I knew I should have gone with a younger vampire."
Spike froze. He had been supposed to be gaining her complete trust so he could escape, and within a few hours of being in her custody he'd already fucked up. The thought that he could do something to make Charise send him back to the commandoes never crossed his mind in all his planning until now. If he angered her this much, would she return him like a poor-fitting pair of shoes? If he went back, would they just kill him? What if Charise decided to stake him despite how much she paid for him?
Charise snapped the strap in her hand and then pressed it firmly against Spike's reddened backside. She raised her hand and brought the strap down with tremendous force. Spike yelped as his mind raced to figure out how he was going to come back from his misbehavior. He'd taken a step forward with her, and now he was already five steps behind. He tried to formulate a new plan, but it was hard to think as the strap crisscrossed over his ass.
Hoping that her earlier tenderness with him had been a sign that she wanted him to be sweet and babyish in return, Spike thrust his hand back to block any further blows, "Please! It hurts!"
Charise grabbed his wrist and firmly placed it in the small of his back as she continued to apply the strap, "I cannot believe that I had to punish you on your very first day."
Spike began replaying all the horrible experiments that occurred to him at the hands of the doctors, the mocking laughter of the soldiers, how lonely and helpless he had felt in his cell, and imagining all the horrible things that could happen to him if he was forced to return to them. A few tears slipped out of the corners of his eyes, and he started to cry. Loudly. The blubbering was crocodile, but the actual tears were not.
"I'm sorry! I promise not to disobey you again!" he wailed pitifully.
The strap suddenly stilled. Spike continued to whimper and sob, not wanting to risk being seen as feigning. Charise's hand rested on his head and gently rubbed a spot behind one of his ears.
"Are you truly sorry?" she asked, her thumb wiping away a stray tear on his cheek.
Spike nodded and sniffled. Wrapping her arm around his waist, Charise helped him stand up and walked him to a corner.
Pointing to a spot on the wall, she instructed, "Put your nose here, and I'll tell you when you can come out," and then patted his ass gently, "And don't try to rub the sting out when you think I'm not looking."
She's putting me in a bloody time-out, Spike thought to himself. I'm a hundred and twenty-six, not a toddler.
As much as he was mentally resisting, Spike was outwardly resigned, letting the tip of his nose touch the wall while Charise walked about the room and talked quietly to the maids. He thought she was telling them off for letting him get into the cabinet, but he wasn't sure. Eventually, she returned and allowed him to turn around to face her. Spike rubbed his fist against the corner of his eye and tried to appear properly chastised.
"I want to show you something," she said, lightly taking his hand in hers.
Walking him through the salon in his apartments, Charise revealed another hidden door in the paneling.
She lives in a labyrinth. David Bowie's probably tied up in the basement.
Down a flight in a narrow stairwell, Charise unlocked another door and led Spike to an enormous indoor pool. She was half-way dragging him along with her as they drew closer to the portico with large swathes of light pouring in. He could see a dense garden filled with statuary and fountains, and Charise was bringing him closer and closer to the grassy area.
"Wait," he stammered, "Hang on a minute-"
Charise began trying to pull him from under the colonnade's protective shade, but he jerked his hand out of hers hard enough to send him sprawling on the poolside marble on his sore backside. She turned around and started to pull out his collar's remote again, but stopped when she saw he was genuinely afraid.
"I'm really sorry. Please, don't make me walk out there. I'll be good, better than good. I promise," Spike continued to apologize, and he watched her expression soften.
"Silly vampire, when are you going to learn?" she shook her head.
He appeared confused, "Trix are for kids?"
Charise rolled her eyes, "I'm not going to let you get burned, so heel."
Spike got up and hesitantly placed a toe into the sunny garden. His foot didn't burst into flames. Taking a cautious step outside, he saw that what appeared to be an open area from far away was actually an enormous greenhouse made of the same necro-tempered glass that was in other areas of the house. A few more steps forward, and Spike felt like he was in Heaven. He could feel a breeze on his bare skin, immersed in scents and colours he had not been exposed to for over a century. Charise took his arm and walked him around the perimeter, allowing him to run his hand over sun-dappled foliage and splash a little in the cool waters of the fountain.
There was a small gazebo towards the back of the greenhouse, and Charise led him inside the structure. She sat down on one of the padded benches, letting him join her.
"I had this built for the vampire I brought home. I wanted to be able to share simple pleasures," she said with a smile.
Spike was still in awe. Even though she had not specifically built the greenhouse for him, it was still something that she wanted whatever vampire she brought home to be able to take part in as a normal aspect of her life. It was more than just something someone would do for a pet, but perhaps it was exactly what one would do. She had, after all, just taken him for a walk like a puppy. Hoping to once again earn her favor as well as regain some of the footing he had had before his 'disgrace,' Spike submissively laid his upper body in her lap while they rested together. She stroked her fingers down his back, caressing the little welts the strap made on his buttocks.
"I really am sorry," he said with more sincerity. "I hadn't been able to be alone for so long... just needed a little release. I won't do it again."
Charise leaned down to gently kiss the side of his face, "I mean for you to obey me when I tell you to do something, but if you need something, you can ask for it."
Her hand trailed down his body, reaching underneath to take hold of his still-slicked penis, squeezing softly. Spike took a deep, shuddery breath as he was brought back to full hardness.
"I liked spanking you, but the next time I do it, I don't want it to be out of anger," Charise bit the shell of his ear, which caused Spike to spill into her hand.
When her fingers were brought to his lips, Spike licked his spendings from them, reveling in the feel of the sun on his face in his post-orgasmic high.
Perhaps I've been going about this all wrong, Spike thought as he picked up a flower that tumbled across the gazebo's floor in the cool breeze. With a little more patience, I could get some entertainment out of this.
Placing the flower in Charise's hair, Spike smirked, "You promise there'll be a "next time" with the spankings?"
Find all chapters for this story thus far here.
x-posted on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
nekid_spike and darker_spike.
Author:
fenderlovePairing: Spike/OCs
Rating: R for pet!Spike, toys, spanking, electric shocks, not worksafe.
Summary: What would have become of Spike if he had never escaped from the Initiative? In the wake of fierce overcrowding of its demonic captives, the Initiative finds a solution that both provides ample funding for their research and makes room for new subjects for their experiments.
Versailles Undone
Chapter Three: le Jardin de Charise.
The chiming of bells roused Spike from his sleep. With all the drugging he had endured while in captivity, he had stirred with an anticipation and fear that being released back into the outside world was all a fevered dream. He sat up quickly to find himself not on the cold tiled floor of his cell but rather a luxurious feather mattress, surrounded by fluffy pillows and blanketed by layers of silky sheets and a thick comforter.
Charise was sitting in bed beside him, reading from one of the naming books he'd seen the night before. She glanced over as he sat up and playfully tugged on one of the long curls that was hanging over his forehead.
"Morning, Bashful," she smiled, "I was beginning to think that you'd sleep the day away."
Resisting a sarcastic comment about it being natural for vampires to sleep during daylight hours, Spike tried to be more polite, "I'm sorry. I've not slept well in a while."
"I suppose not. Didn't seem as though those cells were very comfortable," Charise shut her book and set it aside as she got out of bed to pull on her brocade robe over her negligee.
Spike got the impression he was supposed to follow her as she walked over to a door nearly hidden in the paneling of her chamber. He slipped on his robe which was laid across the end of the bed and stopped when he came to the doorway. The secret entry led to a large parlor with huge windows, the heavy damask curtains drawn back to bathe the room in light.
Charise looked over her shoulder and patted her thigh as one would do to call a house-pet, "Come along. The sun can't hurt you in here."
Spike stayed close the wall, edging his way inside until he realized that being in the direct light was not causing his skin to smolder. He held out his arm, feeling the pleasant heat spread over him.
"I've had most of the windows in the house replaced with necro-tempered glass, so you will be able to walk about freely in the rooms you're allowed in," Charise sat down at a round table, her maid tucking the train of her robe behind her chair while still more attendants appeared with a tea service and trays of food.
Framboise held out the second chair at the table for Spike and gestured for him to sit. He felt strange being waited on, but he took his seat and watched the flurry of movement as breakfast was served. A large plate of pain perdu was placed in front of him followed by a bowl of fresh cream topped with a variety of berries. Charise was handed the morning paper on a tray by Poire who then poured her tea. Spike stared at the fluffed up toast on his plate. It looked quite tasty, but as delightful to the taste-buds it might have been, Spike was more concerned with eating something that would actually sustain him. As if on cue, Citron brought another tea tray over and poured blood into the teacup on the vampire's saucer. Spike's mouth was practically watering before the valet had finishing pouring. It took a lot of restraint to not simply grab the teapot and chug down the whole thing. The first draught from the cup made Spike realize that this meal was not human blood, but something sweeter that he could not recognize.
The vampire was on his third refill when he finally glanced over at his keeper. He tried to discern any information about his whereabouts from the small newspaper Charise was holding. He noted the title was Événements de la Maison (Happenings of the House) and realized that it was nothing more than a detailed itinerary of household goings-on, such as which staff members would be present in certain parts of the house, which rooms would be closed for cleaning, and the menus for lunch, tea, and dinner, all in French of course.
Somewhere, in this monstrosity of a house, someone is getting paid to make a glorified to-do list that looks like an actual periodical, Spike mused to himself as he took a pastry from the tiered tray at the center of the table, This girl is either too insanely wealthy to know better ways to spend her money or she's just insane. Possibly both.
While sampling a few bites of the other breakfast fare, Spike took the time to begin to study Charise's movements. He found it strange that, though she had touched him with a carefree assuredness, her hands shook when she grasped other things. Placing the paper back on its tray, picking up her teacup, running her knife through the bread, bringing the fork to her lips, all seemed to cause her some kind of nervousness, as though she was over-thinking every small action.
Maybe she's afraid of dropping something. If I had a home filled with expensive things, I wouldn't care- Wait half a mo'... I did live in a home with expensive things... that I broke all the time. Mother never seemed to mind though, Spike cut off that line of thought before his stomach got the twisting feeling that came when he reminisced about his human family and switched to a different topic, I just go from one crazy person to another. At least this one has probably already been to soddin' France by the looks of her frou-frou lifestyle.
"Is your breakfast all right?" Charise asked to clear the uncomfortable silence, her teacup rattling as she placed it back on its saucer.
Spike nodded, "Best stuff I've had in months."
That answer seemed to please her, and it wasn't a lie on Spike's part. He could already feel his strength returning along with the strange rolling sensation just beneath the surface of his skin that accompanied his normal weight returning. It could take up to a week of healthy feeding before his muscles would completely fill out as Spike had learned during a few scrapes he'd run into in the past where he had been without regular blood for long periods of time. However, he'd never gotten thin to this extent before, not even in his human life, and he was beginning to worry that it could take a lot longer to get his body back in shape.
Charise pushed the toast on her plate a little with her fork as she explained, "I've got to take care of some business this morning, so the tour will have to wait until it's done."
Spike really did not have a response though he didn't suppose she wanted one. Once the breakfast things were cleared away, he followed her back into her bedroom like the obedient pet he was pretending to be. Charise went behind her dressing screen with her maid and into, what he assumed, was her bathroom or closet. Spike sat on the edge of her bed, which had already been made while they were eating, and fiddled with the velvet cuff of his robe. He was growing bored already, and he definitely didn't want to wait anymore. After being relegated to a cell for the better part of a three months, he was ready to snatch the remote to his shock collar and bolt. The thought of running off without it crossed his mind, but he worried that it might have a limitless range, and he could be shocked into unconsciousness or until he returned to "Madame."
Flopping backwards onto the bed, Spike stared up at the tall canopy of Charise's bed. There was a ridiculous amount of ostrich feathers, dyed pink, green, blue, and marigold, stuffed around the top to match the embroidered floral pattern of her comforter and the fabric plastered up the headboard. The furniture in the room was a mix of Style Louis XIV, Louis XV, and Louis XVI, and the vampire couldn't tell if they were reproductions or originals, but there was an antique odor about the room. Hoping to stave off his listlessness, Spike grabbed one of the naming books Charise had been reading when he had woken up. A few names were written in a flowing, fanciful script on a scrap of paper tucked into the dust-jacket.
Aubrey... Darcy... Geoffry... Nathaniel... Sidney... Vincent... William...
Charise finally emerged from behind her screen, dressed to the hilt in a yellow gown, with Framboise and promptly went to her vanity table to apply make-up and fix her hair. Spike held in a sigh; he used to dress Drusilla and himself in less time than she was taking. Harmony was another story. The vampire flipped through more pages of the book as he waited and wished he could figure out why Charise simply did not ask him what his name was. He was beginning to feel like a pre-owned cat; the previous owners may have called the cat "Snowball," but the new owners are determined to call it "Whiskers" or something else that would be totally absurd to the cat who knew its damned name was "Snowball.''
Charise turned to him as she slid the back onto her earring, "Don't worry, Bashful. You'll get a real name soon."
"What about 'Spike?'" he couldn't hide the hopeful tone in his voice.
She laughed loudly and then replied, "Oh, sweetheart, that's no name for a pretty boy like you. That's the kind of name you give a pit bull or, ironically, a poodle."
Spike wanted to growl, but refrained. There was nothing wrong with his name. It was his, and he'd earned it by taking out half his graduating class with railroad spikes. The bastards had deserved it too. A knock at the door brought him out of his crossness as Charise ushered in Pomme who was carrying several pieces of clothing over her arms.
"You can dress in here since I'm on an unexpectedly tight schedule today," Charise said with a disappointed sigh.
Spike's eyes narrowed as his chosen outfit for the day was carefully placed on the bed. There was entirely too much pink for his liking. Unlike being in the military facility, he was not instructed to remove his clothing; the maids just began undressing him with little fanfare. He was somewhat irritated that Charise could dress in relative privacy, but he was stripped in the middle of the room to be gawked at by anyone walking around.
Spike shifted from one foot to the other as a pair of short silk drawers were held out for him to slip on. There was a silent thankfulness that these undergarments were not sheer and didn't have quite so much lace on them, so it made it easier to pretend they were just boxers. His arms were lifted as a corset was brought around his middle. It wasn't cinched uncomfortably tight, but the lacing had to be drawn out quite a bit to accommodate his thin frame. As he was shoved into a full shirt, waistcoat, stockings, breeches, and heeled buckled shoes, Spike found himself missing wool trousers and combinations. Charise wrapped a soft stock around his neck, covering up the pearl shock collar, pinning it with a small gold medallion. Lastly, he was allowed to put on his coat by himself, which matched the rest of the outfit with its olive green colour with a pink and white striped lining on the inside. Spike felt like a piece of taffy. As if his humiliation wasn't complete, the vampire also had to submit to letting his lips be painted with a transparent gloss while his hair was being brushed back away from his face.
"We'll have to bring someone in to dye his hair," Charise said, gently running her fingers over the back of Spike's head.
Framboise straightened the vampire's coat collar, "Are you going to keep it blonde? It seems a little harsh."
Charise took Spike's chin between her thumb and forefinger and lifted it so she could get a better look at his face, "I think the blonde's going to stay. I like how it sets off his bone structure."
Taking his arm, Charise pulled Spike to his feet, and they left the maids in her bedchamber as they ventured downstairs. Spike didn't have any trouble walking in heels (he'd had some interesting adventures during the 1970's and 80's), though learning how to stay as close to Charise as she wanted while she was wearing wide panniers took some watchfulness on his part. Spike tried to take in as much of the mansion's layout as possible as they walked. There were so many doors, halls, and niches that Spike couldn't even be certain that the large arched doorway at the end of the vestibule downstairs actually led outside. Glancing through the windows showed him nothing familiar in the landscape, just a dense cluster of trees beyond a tall, neatly manicured hedge.
Pushing through heavy double doors, Charise showed the vampire into a round salon, the walls lined with bookshelves and enormous reproductions of Fragonard's the Progress of Love. In the middle of the room was an enormous Bureau du Roi, the polished wood heavily engraved and lavishly gilded, with a straight-backed plush chair behind it.
Charise pointed to an overstuffed ottoman to the left side of the bureau and said, "Sit."
Spike sat, almost falling over when the corset did not give enough. He watched her lift the cylindre on the desk, revealing a laptop and other modern office accoutrements. A stack of envelopes was neatly waiting next to the computer, and she began to slice the tops of them with a letter opener. Spike licked his lips as he watched her, hoping for an accidental prick or at least a paper-cut. She read her mail and wrote responses on her stationery with a faux quill pen. He hid a smirk as he realized that even someone trying to live in a fantasy of their own making had to have some modern creature comforts, like pens that didn't blot all over one's hands. He took notice of his own hands, how they used to be so ink-stained he worried that it would become permanent like a tattoo. It was then that he realized his nails had been cleaned and filed. He'd chipped off most of the polish he had been wearing out of boredom after getting captured by the commandoes, but now they were uniform and a little shiny.
After folding her written response, Charise put the paper in an envelope and handed it to Spike, "Could you lick that closed, please?"
Spike did so, grimacing at the taste of the glue on the flap. Charise covered her mouth to hide her amusement. As she went through her correspondence, she would continuously hand him more envelopes to seal. Turning one of them over, Spike noted a return address was already printed on the left top corner of the envelope.
Charise St. Char, CEO
c/o Simply Charming Publications
P.O. Box 1793
Valmont, Oregon 97701-1793
Spike suddenly realized why the CSC initials displayed throughout the house had caught his attention. The same design was the logo for a brand of tawdry historical romance novels that he'd had the misfortune to read over the years since they came on the market in the 1940's. A major competitor for Harlequin Enterprises and Silhouette Books, Simply Charming novels were more sensationalized and overtly explicit in their sexual content, and they almost exclusively dealt with the historical genres- countesses with "heaving bosoms struggling against their confinement" and country gentlemen with bulging breeches filled with "turgid yearnings." Looking down at his own breeches, Spike suddenly understood where Charise's obsessive attention to her surroundings had come from and also how she had been able to afford such an extravagant lifestyle.
Loud footfalls caused Charise's head to turn towards the entrance to her study. Without knocking, a tall, grim-looking man wearing a plain business suit and carrying a briefcase walked into the room. His mouth was thin with deep-set smoking lines at the corners, and his salt-and-pepper hair was meticulously brushed and pomaded back. The man glanced at Charise and then at Spike, his expression darkening further.
"It doesn't hurt you to announce yourself, you know," Charise sighed.
"Just because you play at this ridiculous fantasy, do not expect me to stoop to it," the man frowned.
She blew a stray curl away from her face and replied, "Didn't seem to bother you too much when you were brown-nosing my grandmother."
Spike laughed quietly at the intentionally double-entrendre tone Charise used.
"I see you went ahead with purchasing a plaything," the man addressed Charise though he glared at Spike.
"He's not a plaything," Charise responded and placed her hand on top of Spike's head, "He's mine."
Spike felt as though she was trying to be protective of him, which was nice in a way. He supposed it was better than getting tasered every time he dared to open his mouth.
"Bashful, this is Dolmancé. He's the Châtelain around here, majordomo'ing and whatnot when I can't go into my actual office," Charise explained. "Dolmancé, this is Baby-Needs-a-Name... I'm working on it."
"Have you bothered to approve the new contracts for the Deep Green line?" the older man spat, obviously in no mood to hear about his employer's new pet.
Charise bit the inside of her cheek, appearing as though she was refraining from saying what she truly wanted to, and then to Spike said, "Sweetheart, why don't you go up to your room and take a nap, and I'll come and get you when it's time for lunch? You can find your way back upstairs, right?"
Spike stood up and did a little bow, "Yes, Madame."
As he left the room, he heard Dolmancé raise his voice to say, "You've even got that thing cooperating in your frivolous play-acting."
"Don't call him a thing, you pathetic old cu-"
Spike was somewhat surprised to hear some of the language the prim woman used. He could hear her tirade as he walked back upstairs. He thought for a moment that he would explore at his leisure, but then remembered what Charise had told him about the windows in the house- only the rooms in which he was allowed had the special tinting in the windows that would not burn him. However, he did find the idea of actually trying to sleep so shortly after waking up impossible.
Once inside his own apartments, Spike caught a glimpse of Pomme and Pêche inside the interior salon reading magazines. He walked around his bedroom and began curiously opening some of the cabinets. He found books and writing supplies in one, but in another he found far more interesting items.
Dildos and floggers and buttplugs, oh my! Spike ran his hand over some of the toys inside the cabinet.
There were cockrings, some light bondage gear, and all manner of sexual aids, and it was all brand new. Picking up a heavy plug, Spike felt his silk boxers grow too tight as he thought about using it. It had been too long since he was able to pleasure himself in private. After a quick check to make sure the maids were still engrossed in their reading material, Spike took a few toys from the cabinet along with a bottle of lubricant and made his way into the bathroom.
Shutting the door quietly, the vampire went to work finding a proper spot for a wank. Bypassing the wanna-be gyno-chair that he had woken up on when he was first brought to Charise's home, Spike looked into the sunken bathtub in the room. There was a seat carved into the wall of the tub, and it seemed to be as good a place as any. Spike shimmied out of his clothes, except for the corset which he had no way of unlacing. Slipping down into the tub with the toys lined up along its edge, Spike sat down and flicked open the bottle of lubricant. He poured the transparent gel into his palm and firmly rubbed the slick up and down his penis.
Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, Spike found himself relaxing instantly, his member beginning to fill with very little stimulation. He picked up a set of anal beads from the pile of toys and drizzled some of the lube over it. Propping up his foot and pushing his ass towards the edge of the seat, Spike was able to have better access to his hole. It took up some maneuvering, but he was able to push the first bead inside without any further preparation. Spike had always been tight, and the slight pain as he stretched himself with each bead made his cock throb.
Yanking on the beads and then pushing them back in had Spike panting, but he decided it was time for something a little bigger. He picked up a large vibrator and lubricated it while marveling at all the little nubs and accessories it seemed to have. Setting the beads aside, Spike pushed the head of the vibrator inside of his body. The resistance of his muscles to the intrusion became more apparent as he tried to bear down on the firm silicon. He switched the vibrator on and was surprised at some of the sensations he experienced. It had been a long time since Spike had gotten the chance to use any adults toys, and things had changed since the days of ordering specialty items out of the back of Hustler and Penthouse. As he began to pull the phallus in and out of his entrance, not only did the toy vibrate, but it rotated in alternating directions, the little nubs along its sides rubbing his inner walls sensually. The silicon butterfly rotor that arched up from the base of the vibrator pressed up against the underside of Spike's balls, making him moan softly.
"Technology is bloody amazing," the vampire said as he pushed the vibrator up as far as it would go into his body and then began to fondle himself with both hands.
Just as he was getting close to his climax, from behind him a voice said firmly, "Seventeen."
Spike nearly dove headfirst into the empty bathtub. He scrambled to turn around and get to his feet as Charise tapped her heeled shoe in the doorway of the bathroom. She looked extremely brassed off.
"Come here," she glared at him and pointed at the floor in front of her.
Spike stood and embarrassedly started to try to remove the toy from his person.
"No, leave it," Charise then repeated, "Come here."
Obeying, Spike went to stand where she indicated. Charise kept eye contact with him as she reached behind him and yanked out the vibrator, throwing it on the floor. Spike winced at the pain and grabbed her arm. When his wrist clamped around hers, Charise was quick to pull remote to his shock collar from her reticule and press the 'X'-shaped button. Spike screamed and let go of her as a horrible electrical wave shot through his body, making him take a knee on the marble floor.
Taking her finger from the button, Charise reached out to place her hand on his shoulder, but Spike growled and vamped, trying to bite her. She set the collar off again just as the chip inside his brain began to fire, and Spike let out an animalistic roar as his body trembled from the multiple shocks. Finally, he fell flat against the floor, his forehead pressed into the cold stone.
"Bad boy!" Charise admonished. "I gave you a simple command, and you could not follow it."
Spike made a small whimper, unable to make any sounds besides unintelligible mumbling as he recovered from the jolts.
Charise moved away from the doorway and pointed to one of the chairs in his bedchamber, "Get yourself over there. Crawl."
His arms shaking as he pushed himself onto his knees, Spike slowly dragged himself into the room. Once he was near the chair Charise had indicated, she grabbed him around the middle and made him bend over the plush seat. She was a lot stronger than he had given her credit for, and he groaned as the boning of the corset dug into the root of his penis. She forced his legs apart with the toe of her shoe and moved his hands to rest in the small of his back. From the toy cabinet, Charise brought out an oval-shaped wooden paddle.
"You're going to get punished for disobedience, but you can save yourself from worse if you apologize," she told him as she tapped the paddle against his buttocks to let him feel the weight of it.
"Sod off," Spike replied through gritted teeth.
The paddle landed sharply against his ass, his still-erect cock trapped between his body and the sharp gilding of the chair's frame. Five more blows came down hard, and Spike was gasping as his face rubbed against the brocaded fabric beneath him.
"I don't know if you're ungrateful or just slow, but how in the world did you interpret "take a nap" as "go play with your prick?"" Charise smacked his left cheek and then his right in rapid succession.
"I'm not going to apologize for touching my own cock," Spike groaned out as the paddle continued to hit its mark.
Charise went back to the cabinet and took out a thick leather strap, "I knew it was too good to be true. You were too polite and too perfect. I knew I should have gone with a younger vampire."
Spike froze. He had been supposed to be gaining her complete trust so he could escape, and within a few hours of being in her custody he'd already fucked up. The thought that he could do something to make Charise send him back to the commandoes never crossed his mind in all his planning until now. If he angered her this much, would she return him like a poor-fitting pair of shoes? If he went back, would they just kill him? What if Charise decided to stake him despite how much she paid for him?
Charise snapped the strap in her hand and then pressed it firmly against Spike's reddened backside. She raised her hand and brought the strap down with tremendous force. Spike yelped as his mind raced to figure out how he was going to come back from his misbehavior. He'd taken a step forward with her, and now he was already five steps behind. He tried to formulate a new plan, but it was hard to think as the strap crisscrossed over his ass.
Hoping that her earlier tenderness with him had been a sign that she wanted him to be sweet and babyish in return, Spike thrust his hand back to block any further blows, "Please! It hurts!"
Charise grabbed his wrist and firmly placed it in the small of his back as she continued to apply the strap, "I cannot believe that I had to punish you on your very first day."
Spike began replaying all the horrible experiments that occurred to him at the hands of the doctors, the mocking laughter of the soldiers, how lonely and helpless he had felt in his cell, and imagining all the horrible things that could happen to him if he was forced to return to them. A few tears slipped out of the corners of his eyes, and he started to cry. Loudly. The blubbering was crocodile, but the actual tears were not.
"I'm sorry! I promise not to disobey you again!" he wailed pitifully.
The strap suddenly stilled. Spike continued to whimper and sob, not wanting to risk being seen as feigning. Charise's hand rested on his head and gently rubbed a spot behind one of his ears.
"Are you truly sorry?" she asked, her thumb wiping away a stray tear on his cheek.
Spike nodded and sniffled. Wrapping her arm around his waist, Charise helped him stand up and walked him to a corner.
Pointing to a spot on the wall, she instructed, "Put your nose here, and I'll tell you when you can come out," and then patted his ass gently, "And don't try to rub the sting out when you think I'm not looking."
She's putting me in a bloody time-out, Spike thought to himself. I'm a hundred and twenty-six, not a toddler.
As much as he was mentally resisting, Spike was outwardly resigned, letting the tip of his nose touch the wall while Charise walked about the room and talked quietly to the maids. He thought she was telling them off for letting him get into the cabinet, but he wasn't sure. Eventually, she returned and allowed him to turn around to face her. Spike rubbed his fist against the corner of his eye and tried to appear properly chastised.
"I want to show you something," she said, lightly taking his hand in hers.
Walking him through the salon in his apartments, Charise revealed another hidden door in the paneling.
She lives in a labyrinth. David Bowie's probably tied up in the basement.
Down a flight in a narrow stairwell, Charise unlocked another door and led Spike to an enormous indoor pool. She was half-way dragging him along with her as they drew closer to the portico with large swathes of light pouring in. He could see a dense garden filled with statuary and fountains, and Charise was bringing him closer and closer to the grassy area.
"Wait," he stammered, "Hang on a minute-"
Charise began trying to pull him from under the colonnade's protective shade, but he jerked his hand out of hers hard enough to send him sprawling on the poolside marble on his sore backside. She turned around and started to pull out his collar's remote again, but stopped when she saw he was genuinely afraid.
"I'm really sorry. Please, don't make me walk out there. I'll be good, better than good. I promise," Spike continued to apologize, and he watched her expression soften.
"Silly vampire, when are you going to learn?" she shook her head.
He appeared confused, "Trix are for kids?"
Charise rolled her eyes, "I'm not going to let you get burned, so heel."
Spike got up and hesitantly placed a toe into the sunny garden. His foot didn't burst into flames. Taking a cautious step outside, he saw that what appeared to be an open area from far away was actually an enormous greenhouse made of the same necro-tempered glass that was in other areas of the house. A few more steps forward, and Spike felt like he was in Heaven. He could feel a breeze on his bare skin, immersed in scents and colours he had not been exposed to for over a century. Charise took his arm and walked him around the perimeter, allowing him to run his hand over sun-dappled foliage and splash a little in the cool waters of the fountain.
There was a small gazebo towards the back of the greenhouse, and Charise led him inside the structure. She sat down on one of the padded benches, letting him join her.
"I had this built for the vampire I brought home. I wanted to be able to share simple pleasures," she said with a smile.
Spike was still in awe. Even though she had not specifically built the greenhouse for him, it was still something that she wanted whatever vampire she brought home to be able to take part in as a normal aspect of her life. It was more than just something someone would do for a pet, but perhaps it was exactly what one would do. She had, after all, just taken him for a walk like a puppy. Hoping to once again earn her favor as well as regain some of the footing he had had before his 'disgrace,' Spike submissively laid his upper body in her lap while they rested together. She stroked her fingers down his back, caressing the little welts the strap made on his buttocks.
"I really am sorry," he said with more sincerity. "I hadn't been able to be alone for so long... just needed a little release. I won't do it again."
Charise leaned down to gently kiss the side of his face, "I mean for you to obey me when I tell you to do something, but if you need something, you can ask for it."
Her hand trailed down his body, reaching underneath to take hold of his still-slicked penis, squeezing softly. Spike took a deep, shuddery breath as he was brought back to full hardness.
"I liked spanking you, but the next time I do it, I don't want it to be out of anger," Charise bit the shell of his ear, which caused Spike to spill into her hand.
When her fingers were brought to his lips, Spike licked his spendings from them, reveling in the feel of the sun on his face in his post-orgasmic high.
Perhaps I've been going about this all wrong, Spike thought as he picked up a flower that tumbled across the gazebo's floor in the cool breeze. With a little more patience, I could get some entertainment out of this.
Placing the flower in Charise's hair, Spike smirked, "You promise there'll be a "next time" with the spankings?"
Find all chapters for this story thus far here.
x-posted on
nekid_spike and darker_spike.
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