Versailles Undone :: Chapter Four.

[fenderlove]

Title: Versailles Undone
Author: fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/OCs
Rating: R for pet!Spike, language, toys, spanking, food!play, not worksafe... I started to warn about unnatural acts with a classical instrument... but that's probably all in Spike's head :D
Summary: After being sold by the Initiative, Spike is becoming accustomed to being the pet of an eccentric heiress. The small world he inhabits grows a little larger as he meets the eclectic members of her inner circle.



Versailles Undone
Chapter Four: the Dining Room.

Spike was ready for his daring escape. He'd memorized the important layout details of Charise's maze-like mansion, knew all the staff's schedules by heart, and he'd regained almost all of his strength. He'd even devised an ingenious plan to steal the remote to his shock collar from his captor. Now, he was going to make his move... in a few days... just to be absolutely sure that he was in the right physical condition to be on his own. There was no need to be hasty with such a delicate operation. After all, it wasn't in Spike's nature to be rash and impetuous.

Of course, those were the same things that Spike had kept repeating to himself for weeks.

On his bed, naked save his collar, corset, and a turquoise banyan that wrapped around him like an ocean of warmth, the vampire dipped another macaroon into a stoneware cup of piping hot blood. He reveled in the crispy crunch of the cookie as the blood and creamy filling gushed into his mouth. Spike had grown fond of wearing the corset, as long as it wasn't too tight, even while he was just lounging about or sleeping as it helped with the minor twinges of back pain he occasionally experienced.

Flipping through the pages of a cheap romance with the purplest prose he'd ever read, Spike began to think that he really didn't have it so bad, all things considered. He had all the blood he could drink, comfortable lodgings, and he was being spoiled rotten. If he wanted certain music to listen to, Charise bought him the whole catalogue of that artist. If he wanted something to eat, Charise's personal chefs would make it at any time day or night. She'd brought in a professional stylist to dye his hair as well as a masseuse who stopped by every week to give him deep tissue massages. Spike had his run of his apartments, and he got to enjoy swimming in the heated olympic-sized pool and going into the necro-tempered greenhouse to enjoy the sunshine.

However, Spike did find sticking to rigid routines, being dressed if frilly clothing, and having his body pawed over to be more than annoying. If he disobeyed or responded crossly to something that Charise asked of him, she was quick to punish him. Though she had not used the shock collar except for the first incident of his disobedience, Spike would have preferred it to the other punishments she chose which left him feeling rather childish, like mouth-soapings, spankings, and enemas. Then again, Spike had goaded her into most of those punishments.

The days he spent mostly in Charise's company were all very much the same. He would spend the night before in her room, her arm wrapped around his waist while they slept. Then, the next morning would be a flurry of breakfast, dressing, and attending her while she was in her office. Spike had become something of Charise's vampiric secretary, taking dictation, writing emails, doing proofreading, and even taking calls from her business associates. After her work affairs were taken care of for the day, they'd spend time doing all manner of things. They swam together, went for walks, and talked. After three months of forced silence at the hands of the commandoes, Spike found that he truly missed the simple ability to speak. They discussed literature, movies, and the like. Spike thought it was quite funny that Charise, who lived so anachronistically, was actually very pop-culture-minded. Sometimes, she listened to him talk about traveling the world, and the vampire never had to tiptoe around the gory details since they didn't appear to bother Charise in the slightest. They took meals together that even included specially prepared dishes for Spike that incorporated blood into the recipes.

However, Spike was also allowed time to himself as well. On days when Charise had to leave the house or when she wanted privacy for whatever reasons, he wandered about the house. At first he did so to get a grasp on the layout of the rooms and to find all the possible exits, but later he found himself more curious about the rooms themselves. Though many doors remained locked or were simply guest bedrooms, Spike had discovered a room filled with lovingly detailed miniatures and dollhouses, a home theatre decorated like an Austrian opera house, and a bedroom that looked like everything was made out of candy from the plastic molding that mimicked frosting to wooden furniture painted to resemble gingerbread and gumdrops. He wondered if Charise decorated on a whim or if the rooms had been plotted that way from the beginning.

The room that Spike enjoyed the most during his alone time, besides his own chamber, was the central library. It was designed around a rotunda and was brightly lit. Spike spent hours perusing the shelves, reading, or simply admiring the first editions. The first floor of the library was occupied totally by Simply Charming novels, all in excellent condition, arranged in order of publication. A few books, by the numbers on their spines, were missing in recent years, which irked the literary nerd in Spike, but he figured that someone may have taken them in the house to read.

The servants that milled about the mansion were pleasant enough. Spike liked his maids, Pomme and Pêche, even though they had the tendency to treat him more like a baby than a grown man/century old vampire. All the valets, groundspeople, chefs, and attendants were all very good-natured to him, which was a welcomed change from the harassment and degradation he felt at the hands of a myriad of doctors, lab techs, and soldiers while at the military facility. In fact, the only person who Spike mentally added on his "To Kill" list was Dolmancé, Charise's overbearing business manager.

From what Spike had gathered from conversations he had had with Charise as well as overheard snippets, the young woman that now "owned" him had grown up in the custody of her grandmother, Charlotte St. Char, who was the founder of Simply Charming Publications. When her grandmother died, Charise's inheritance had been placed in a trust under the governorship of Dolmancé until she completed her education. All the while, Charise had taken over the business, expanded it, and had made her own fortune before she even had to touch the wealth she inherited. It seemed that Dolmancé had thought that he would have total control of the publishing house while Charise acted as a mere familial figurehead and face of the company. Spike didn't know why he got a smug satisfaction out of the old man being shown up by such a young woman, but every small triumph of Charise's became his own as he watched the rancor smoldering over the bastard's face. It probably had something to do with the dismissive attitude Dolmancé had towards Spike and his constant jabs at the vampire's appearance, demeanor, and obedience to Charise. It made it worse that Dolmancé seemed to live in the mansion for days at a time, popping up in places to barge in on everyone else's business and conversations. He was snobbish and always seemed to be revolted by being in the vampire's presence. Spike was glad that Charise avoided him as much as possible, though he thought she'd be better off kicking the old tyrant out of the house entirely, but she seemed to trust the codger's business acumen.

The first releases of Simply Charming's new Deep Green line of Ireland-centric novels had received excellent reviews and press, and Charise was busy already signing authors and reviewing manuscripts for the next series- Wild Indigo: the Romances of India. Spike had made the suggestion that a line of English romances should follow it and wanted to call it Coming in Tweed. Charise had found it humorous and promised she would run the idea by the Board of Directors and the marketing department. He didn't think she would, but the thought was nice.

All in all, Spike wondered if he actually could do better for himself. How would he be able to feed himself if he could not hurt a living creature? How would he get money to buy blood? Where would he live? He wasn't even sure where Charise's home was located. Even from the upper story of the mansion, he could not see any nearby homes or major roads; it was nothing but thick copses of trees and mountains on all sides. Spike imagined himself living in a dirty abandoned hovel or in a cave, starved back to skin and bones, cold and wet, just waiting for the commandoes to find him.

Spike supposed he could try his luck and venture out anyway. He could go searching for Drusilla. She had always enjoyed playing "Mummy" and taking care of him when he was stuck in the wheelchair, so she might bring him food if he could survive long enough to find her. However, he remembered how Darla had reacted to Angelus returning unable to hunt after getting cursed. Then, the thought of going to Angel crossed his mind, but after the Gem incident, Spike didn't think he would be open to a unbeating heart-to-unbeating heart talk about his grandchilde's plight.

"If I can't hunt, can't defend myself, and have nowhere to go," Spike muttered as he tossed the book onto his comforter, "maybe I'm better off right where I am... even if it means getting my arse fondled all the time."

A brief knock on the door was followed by Charise bustling into his room, her hair up in huge curling rollers, "All right, Sugarbun, I've got a surprise for you."

"Is it a good surprise or the kind that will keep me from sitting properly for a week?" Spike raised an eyebrow.

Charise tapped her index finger against the tip of Spike's nose, "Isn't that the good kind for you?"

"Touché."

Charise then continued, "We're having a dinner party!"

"Yay?" Spike responded as he was pulled out of bed and into his bathroom.

"Yes, yay," Charise chided as she began removing his banyan and unlacing his corset. "I want you to meet my friends."

"Is that some kind of code for 'get felt up and give blow jobs?'" Spike sat on the edge of the claw-footed tub as she turned on the faucets.

The vampire's bathroom was beyond ridiculous in his opinion. It had a large sunken bathtub that Spike used when he was alone and an antique claw-footed tub used when he was getting bathed by either Charise or the maids. The room was also outfitted with a toilet that he, as an undead creature, did not need, though he had discovered some fun things that he could do with the bidet.

"You're not going to have to give any blow jobs," Charise kissed his forehead and then helped him into the tub, slapping his backside as he knelt down.

Spike tried to relax in the warm water, reminding himself that Charise had not done anything to truly hurt him, save when she'd shocked him on his first day. In fact, besides tossing him off and using a few toys on him, she'd not shown that much of a sexual interest. Spike could always notice the scent of her arousal around him, but even when they shared a bed, she'd not initiated any kind of intercourse. Spike didn't really mind it as she continued to be attentive to him, giving him pleasure without asking for anything in return, though he was beginning to long for relations that didn't involve spilling onto her hand, on a pillow, or into one of those silicon "oni-cups" or whatever Charise had called them.

Though he wasn't exactly physically attracted to her, Spike found Charise pretty in an odd way. Her face, hands, and feet were all strangely thin and angular compared to the rest of her. Her face was almost perfectly heart-shaped, from her pointy chin right up to the widow's peak of her black hair and back again, and she painted her pouty lips to reflect that shape. Her nose was tiny and snubbed at the end, and her eyes were almost too large. She wore different coloured contacts to match her various outfits, but from what he could tell her eyes' natural hue was blue like his own. She was Rubenesque, full-figured with soft curves and heavy breasts. Spike had not seen her naked, except through her thin chemise while they swam in the pool. Without a corset on, her body was more pear than hourglass, but nothing appeared unpleasant about her form. Spike enjoyed having her warm, plush body pressed against his back at night; it was almost like having a breathing water-bottle to cozy up to, so different than sharing a bed with another vampire.

Charise cupped a little water in her hand and sprinkled it on his chest. She rubbed it over his skin, gently pinching his nipples and giving small taps to his pectorals. Spike sucked in a breath as her hand went lower into the water and began rolling his balls against her palm. His cock stirred and bobbed at the surface of the water.

Behold the Krakken, Spike held back a little snort of laughter at himself.

"What's so funny?" Charise asked as she skimmed her nimble fingers over the head of his penis.

Spike wriggled under her ministrations, "Nothing except that I'm bald from the neck down."

"Get used to it," Charise scratched her long lilac-tinted fingernails lightly down his belly. "Now, since you're being good about your bath, take to your hands and knees, Bashful."

Spike sighed and did so, leaning his shoulders down close to the water and spreading his legs until his knees were pressed against opposite walls of the tub. Charise reached over to grab a milk-glass jar from those lined up along the niche above the faucets. She took out a small honey-coloured bath-bead and tossed it into the water.

"Fetch," she instructed.

Spike glanced at her and then at the water. Taking an unnecessary gulp of air, he ducked his head into the water and gently captured the ball between his lips. It was slippery and tasted foul, but he brought it up and dropped it into Charise's waiting hand.

She ruffled Spike's hair with her free hand, "Good boy!"

When he went after another waxy orb that sunk to the bottom of the bath, Spike felt something press against his asshole. He jerked his head above the surface and glared at Charise as she was trying to force the first little ball inside him. Off the rather impertinent look he gave her, she casually tipped the whole jar into the water.

"Oops," she said coyly. "Looks like you've got quite a task."

Spike quickly ducked back under the water, trying to bring up as many beads as he could at once. Every time his head would sink down, Charise's fingers would start pushing the little orbs deep into his rectum, her nails popping a few of the spheres open, spilling the bath oil into him. She was soon scissoring two of her fingers to open him up further, his narrow passage becoming slick from the gel.

Finally spitting out the last bead into her hand, Spike said angrily, "Feels like I've just been slime-fucked by a bloody Chaos Demon."

"Language," Charise admonished, "Open your mouth."

Obeying sullenly, Spike resisted the urge to bite her fingers as she placed the last orb on his tongue.

"Break it open."

Spike bit down on the waxy outer shell of the ball, horribly-tasting bath oil bursting into mouth. He sincerely hoped she didn't want him to swallow it.

"You do not use coarse language. Understood?" she punctuated her words by firmly spanking his wet posterior.

Spike nodded, having not been told he could spit out the oil. He had learned early in his stay that if he gobbed out the soap before being given permission the whole ordeal would repeat over again.

Turning on the cold faucet, Charise instructed, "Spit and rinse."

Gladly doing so, Spike tried to appear chagrinned, "Thank you for correcting my errant behavior, Madame, and thank you for not using LifeBuoy."

Charise laughed hard at that, "You weirdo, do they even make LifeBuoy anymore?"

Spike shrugged, leaning back on his haunches in the water, his inner thighs still slippery from the oil, "I have no idea, but I do know that I don't want to go blind from soap poisoning."

"No one's ever gone blind from soap poisoning."

"Tell that to Robert Wagner."

"Yeah, but he got better," Charise retorted and then called for Spike's maids to come finish his bath and get him dressed for the party while she went to get herself dolled up.

"Caro?" Spike called out as she was leaving.

The vampire had taken to calling her "Caro" when he really needed her for something. She seemed to like it.

"What is it, Beautiful?" she asked as she leaned on the doorframe.

"Your friends..." he paused, not sure how to phrase what he wanted to know, "Your friends are nice, like you, aren't they?"

"I like to think that they are," she replied with a smile, adding in a more serious tone, "I won't let anyone hurt you. Remember that."

Spike did not feel relief in her assurances, however, though he tried to appear happy with her answer as she left. Pomme and Pêche rinsed him off, making sure his body was free of the bath oil. He forced himself to stay still as their fingers went into his intimate places as they cleaned him. His penis was still hard as the maids helped him out of the bath and rubbed him down with soft towels before they escorted him to the immense walk-in closet.

"I was think something in a black or jewel-tone today, ladies," Spike said as the maids gathered clean underthings from the various shelves for him. "Something to not make me look like a tea cake."

Pomme laughed softly and gave the same reply she always did when the vampire made mention of his distaste for his wardrobe, "Madame Charise picked out a very nice outfit for you to wear."

Sighing, Spike allowed himself to be dressed, hating the baby blue bloomer-esque drawers with the ruffles around the legs that were put on him and hating the garter-belt and white stockings that went with it even more. He lifted his arms allowing a soft-ribbed stay to be brought around his torso. Most of the corsets had already been cinched at least once, so it took less time to dress than it did in the beginning. While Pomme was lacing the broad shoulder straps, Pêche tugged and pulled until all the fasteners closed in the front. Spike took small glances at himself in the large monitor-mirrors, feeling rather silly as he ran his hands over the material once everything was tightened in place and enjoyed the shape the corset gave him.

The rest of his outfit, typical of everything else in his closet, was that of an 18th Century French courtier, only that the one Charise had picked for the party had more lace, more frills, and more elaborate embroidery. The jacket, waistcoat, and breeches were all matching silver with green vines and periwinkle flowers delicately embroidered along the hems and cuffs. A cravat of alternating apricot and white lace was wrapped over the shock collar and pinned with a large peridot broach.

After stepping into his buckled shoes and a quick trip through the gauntlet of hair and makeup, Spike's teeth were on edge. Having to sit so still with no say in how he would arrange himself reminded Spike exactly why he wanted to escape. It didn't help that his erect penis was trapped against his thigh underneath layers of silk, lace, and cotton.

Finally dressed, Spike walked out into his room and tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself and will his erection away. He paced a little, rolled his shoulders as much as the stay would allow, and counted to three hundred and forty before he felt more comfortable. The vampire walked over to one of his windows and looked out at the front yard. The unpaved drive stretched down a towering oak alley to a huge iron gate. Though Charise had taken him for a stroll around the grounds at night with her valets, they'd never gone close to the security gate, and Spike wasn't sure how far it was before the drive connected to a road. The only car he'd ever seen or heard was when Dolmancé pulled up to the house.

Somewhere in the mansion, a bell began chiming. Spike recognized it as the gate's buzzer. Peering down the drive, a carriage complete with gilded embellishments and feathers adorning its roof appeared being pulled gracefully by two sets of white Clydesdales and Percherons ornamented with glittering bridles and reins.

"Will this Disney hell ever end?"

The maids eventually ushered him downstairs where Charise was already waiting in the main foyer. The only word to describe her dress and coiffure was epic. She looked every part the raven-haired Marie Antoinette with a tower of curls dotted with tulle flowers and pewter bows studded with diamonds. The acres of fabric that made up her gown were the same colour as Spike's clothes with the same theme to the embroidery, though he had luckily escaped the gem-encrusted bows and heavy tassels that would have been more appropriate on window dressings than something someone would actually wear.

"Do you like my dress?" Charise asked as she toyed with the diamond necklace that swooped down over her bosom.

Spike replied dryly as he came down the stairs, "I like big panniers, and I cannot lie."

Charise snorted, holding back a giggle, "Stop trying to make me pop my laces."

The sound of the front door opening and closing made Charise bounce a little in anticipation, and she linked her arm with Spike's. She appeared happier and more excited than Spike had ever seen her. The valet announced her guests as the door to the foyer swung in, and Charise's three friends entered with flourish. Spike really wasn't sure what he was expecting her friends to look like, but even after all he'd seen of Charise and her lifestyle, the sight of three more Rococo-a-Go-Go aficionados dressed to the elevens was almost too much.

"Darling!" her male friend flung open his arms with a huge grin, "Is that the little bundle of joy?"

"Yes, this is my bashful boy," Charise squeezed Spike's arm and appeared quite proud of herself as though she'd gotten the best puppy of the litter.

The vampire was mentally staking himself as he was introduced to Charise's companions. Hart Carlisle was extremely tall, his face powdered white and rouged. His carefully manicured eyebrows seemed to be permanently arched lecherously, and his dark hair was curled and clubbed with a broad candy-striped ribbon. His sister, Harriet Carlisle-Foster shared her brother's rounded chin, grey eyes, and perfectly sculpted lips. She carried an ornate case for a cello with her as lovingly as one would hold one's own child. Lastly, there was Yolande Lamb, a willowy, small-busted young woman with thick brows and smoky brown eyes. Her mousy blonde hair was less meticulously arranged than the others, strands hanging down messily from underneath a salmon-coloured turban wrapped with a scarf of white lace.

"Have you named him?" Yolande asked as she was getting a feel for Spike's bicep that wasn't under Charise's death-grip.

"Well, I've got some ideas, but nothing for certain yet," Charise answered.

"It's been nearly a month, Charie. You cannot let him go another moment without a name. It won't do," Hart said in his lyrical, flamboyant way as he playfully tugged on Spike's cravat, "I'm going to call him Kippie."

I need a single bolt of lightning to strike me down before I give this foyer a very crimson paint-job, Spike felt his jaw tick as he struggled to keep himself from doing something that would likely get him shocked into unconsciousness.

Charise apparently wasn't that fond of the name her friend had picked out either, "He's not one of your Pomeranians, Hart."

"What would make a good vampire name? How about Alphonso?" Harriet suggested. "Or Trajan?"

The four friends bandied names back and forth before Spike could keep silent no longer, "I have a name, you know. I've been trying to tell Caro the entire bloody time I've been here. My name is Spike. S-p-i-k-e. There. No more worries about my name."

They all seemed to think that his outburst was very amusing. For weeks, Charise had called Spike nothing except "Bashful," "Baby-Needs-a-Name," and a bevy of other cutesy monickers, and his nerves on the subject were shot.

Charise petted his arm in a placating fashion, "All right, Bashful. If you want to be called Spike, then I will."

Spike was taken aback and wondered if she was being serious about accepting what his name was. Even if she was, he didn't exactly trust her to actually use it.

"He's still going to be Kippie to me," Hart replied, turning his nose in the air.

Charise leaned up to kiss her vampire's cheek, which was quite a feat for being able to maneuvering the swaths of fabric, the panniers, and her massive hair to do so without falling over.

"Are you hungry, Spike?" she asked, putting extra emphasis on his name.

Spike nodded, trying to appear appeased by the gesture. He was already eager for this get-together to be over before they had even gotten to the table.

Charise led the way to the dining room though it seemed that her friends were already familiar with the layout of the mansion's lower floor. As they entered the enormous dining area, the lights along the walls were dimmed, leaving the long banquet table illuminated totally by the crystal chandeliers overhead. All the meals that Spike had taken within those paneled walls had always been elaborate, but he almost stopped in his tracks as he beheld the spectacle that was piled upon the table.

"Oh, Charie, you've outdone yourself," Harriet gasped as she and the others walked into the room.

The pièce montée at the table's center was a pastillage recreation of the Petit Trianon surrounded by moulded sugar bon-bonieres filled with candies, sweetmeats, and confectionary statues almost identical to the biscuit porcelain figures interspersed along the plateau. Delicately flourishing sugar sables parterres of pink, yellow, and green created the illusion of a hedge-mazed garden in front of the centerpiece. Silver dishes were filled with candied violets, cherries, syllabub, and macaroons while multi-tiered trays of marzipan fruits artificielles, miniature ispahans, and raspberry Saint-Honorés were positioned near every chair. Bursting from lattice-sugar baskets were bouquets of lovingly painted pastillage flowers so realistic that one could almost smell the roses and daffodils.

Each place-setting was marked by a letter-shaped cinnamon cookie on a bed of licorice comfits with a curving bottle of spiced punch labelled "Boire Moi (Drink Me)" nearby. Spike had the addition of a decanter of blood at his place; "Trop Boire Moi. (Drink Me Too)" its card read.

As they took their seats, Spike stared at the S-shaped cookie on his plate and gave Charise a strange look.

"I was listening when you told me your name before. I was just hoping to name you something less prickly," Charise responded as she took a little bite from her C-shaped cookie.

Her friends were each exploring the little delights that graced the table. Harriet kept her cello case leaning against the empty chair next to her. Spike was positive that the cello had its own place setting as well. While there was much 'ooh'ing and 'aah'ing over the feast for the eyes by the guests, the waitstaff soon entered the room with the first service. There was ballotined pheasant, pumpkin soup, and beef encased in aspic jelly with pearl onions, carrots, and asparagus. It was during the second course of hare stew and baked scallops that Spike felt Charise's hand on his crotch. Her fingers traced along the outside of his erection that had not subsided despite his best efforts. By the third service, the vampire's knuckles had gone white from how tightly he was gripping the armrests of his chair.

"This reminds me of the summer we spent in the Costa del Sol," Hart chuckled as he enjoyed a portion of morel soufflé.

"Because we've gorged ourselves to the point of vomiting or because you're once again dating a pastry chef?" Yolande asked as she got a refill of the heady punch.

The young man smirked a little, "Darling, there's only ever been one pastry chef for me."

Harriet sighed happily, "Eduardo."

Hart pointed an oyster fork at her, "Sister Mine, stay away from my toys."

"You never liked to share," she replied, partaking in the salad of fresh greens and herbs with edible gold-leafing.

Spike shifted in his chair uncomfortably, shakily taking in a breath as Charise's fingers continued to caress him through his breeches. Finally, the dessert was presented in the form of tasses à glaces filled with sweet brown bread-flavored ices, and Spike was praying to any deity that would listen to let him keep his remaining composure until he could sneak off to a private corner.

"These ices are positively orgasmic," Yolande exclaimed and was tantamount to fellating her spoon.

The vampire couldn't pick up any of his utensils with a steady hand as he watched her thick lips suck the off-white cream from her spoon, her pink glistening tongue licking the edge of her cup. Spike bit the inside of his cheek as the pre-emissions leaking from his cock seeped through the silk of his breeches. Charise tapped her spoon against her porcelain cup and dismissed her servants, announcing that she had a private treat for her friends' eyes only. Spike silently groaned, having a heavy, uneasy apprehension growing that was nearly surpassing his arousal.

When it was just the five of them alone with a mountain of food, Charise got up from her seat and went to one of the sideboards. Spike sunk down in his chair, free from the pressure of her hand for a few moments. Bending down carefully to open the cabinets, Charmise removed a tall gold box and brought it over to Spike.

Hart immediately stood up when he saw it, "Here now, you've gone and stolen one of my party games."

"I've only borrowed it and put my own twist to it," Charise replied with a smile. "You have your pâtissier, and I have my confectioner."

Lifting the box up, Charise revealed twelve inches of pastillage phallus with abundant gold-leafing swirling over the smooth white surface. Out of reflex, Spike pushed his chair away from the table.

"Bloody hell," was all he could think to say.

His captor ran her hand up the monstrosity, her nails scraping over the sculpted slit. Spike was nearly sent over the edge as the scent of all four humans' arousal sprung up around him. He couldn't stop the moan that escaped his lips as he could practically sense their pulses increase in speed. He reached down and tried to grasp the base of his cock through his clothing to hold off his release.

"You've seemed a little pent-up lately," Charise said, "and I thought you could use a different kind of fun."

Spike felt Hart's hands on his arms, removing his jacket. Yolande and Harriet came to the head of the table as well, helping to get the vampire unclothed.

"You know, you would have saved a lot of time if you had just let me come to dinner naked," Spike tried to rein in his temper, making no move to stop her friends from removing his clothing.

Though he had no desire to be fucked by a piece of gum paste, Spike knew his need to come would eventually win over his anger and aggravation. He was forced to his feet, his underwear tugged down sharply, leaving him only in the collar, garterbelt, and stockings. Familiar feelings of vulnerability returned as his erection stood out from his body.

"Aren't you lovely?" Yolande pinched his balls, making the vampire flinch away from her.

Hart laughed softly as he stroked the back of his fingers along the curve of Spike's buttocks, "He's definitely a shy one. You've got him blushing, 'Lande"

Once Harriet and Charise cleared a space on the table, Spike laid down on his side and arranged himself, hooking one arm under his knee and lifting it, exposing the entire underside of his body. He remembered how Angelus had taught him various ways to present himself, and how humiliated he had been to be forced onto his knees and made to part his ass, especially by another man. It didn't help matters that Angelus teased him all the more because of his embarrassment. It didn't take long before Spike learned that it was better to get things over with quickly than to draw them out by refusing to obey. He never imagined he'd be in the same sort of situation again at the hands of three human dandizettes and a fop.

Charise allowed her friends to touch him, their fingers rubbing between his ass, gently pushing at his puckered hole, though none of them breached him completely. Spike figured it must be some kind of perverted etiquette of their circle. Charise poured a small bottle of vanilla liqueur into her hand and pressed her middle finger into his body. He was still slightly slick from the earlier bath oil, and she was pumping in and out slowly, adding more of her fingers to stretch him.

"He looks so tight," Hart leaned forward for a better view.

"He's very-very," Charise agreed, and then she addressed Spike, "Tell me what you want, Bashful."

Spike was moaning softly, his hips rocking forward as she removed her fingers and began slowly rubbing the outside of his rosette, "Please... I need to come..."

"Is that all?" she asked.

Driven to be a little lust-drunk, Spike searched for an answer she'd like to hear so he could hurry his orgasm along, "I need to be fucked, Madame."

"I could oblige with something a little more substantial," Hart said with a leer, but Spike growled at him. The young man laughed, "Oh, someone's a feisty kitten."

Charise picked up the pastillage dildo and coated it with the syrupy liqueur before pressing into Spike's narrow passage. The vampire threw his head back as the wide tip of the phallus pressed deeper and deeper, the liqueur providing a slight burning sensation to delicate tissues. As soon as she had forced the phallus as far as she could, Charise yanked it back with a sharp twist, the gold-leafing scratching him as the moulded decorative ridges provided incredible stimulation as they glided over his prostate. Spike had first-hand knowledge at how adept the young woman was with foreign objects as it was the closest form of sex he'd been allowed under her care. She alternated between quick, shallow thrusts and slow, longer strokes, always twisting and turning the candied toy. Spike felt his balls drawing up as the pastillage began to melt from the friction, pieces of the gum paste breaking apart from the whole and being pushed further into his bowels. After jerking the phallus out completely and back inside with one fluid motion, Spike came with a sharp howl, semen spurting onto the polished tabletop. There was some applause and amused chortling at the event.

As Spike lay there, gasping for unneeded breath, something unexpected happened. His face felt hot as tears began rolling down his cheeks. He covered his eyes with his forearm as he started to sob. This was not the put-on fake crying he'd done before to get his way, but the head-splitting real kind. Spike didn't even know what had suddenly come over him. Perhaps it was the awareness of the gritty, disgusting melted gum paste that was leaking out of his stretched hole or that he'd not bothered to put up a fight to being put on display for a group of ribald humans who found vampire pets a lark or a measure of both.

"Baby," Charise put her hand on his thigh and squeezed gently, "are you all right?"

Spike shook his head and snapped, "None of you are afraid of me in the least, are you?"

He sounded snivel-y and pathetic, and it only made him more ashamed of himself.

Dipping a linen napkin into a glass of water, Charise dabbed it at his face to clean the little tracks of tears and eyeliner that painted his skin, "Of course no one's afraid of you. You're a good, sweet boy."

Spike could have laughed that the girl honestly thought that that sentiment was supposed to cheer him up. He was a vampire; he should want to rip their throats out and get drunk from the punch coursing through their bloodstreams for daring to find amusement in making him so vulnerable, but instead he was mewling pitifully. He blamed the chip in his brain and wanted to slap himself for being so stupid as to let himself get caught up in the creature comforts that the mansion had to offer. Spike had to escape from this place before he came undone entirely.

"Don't cry," Harriet took one of his hands in hers and petted it while Charise tried to clean the rest of him, "And please don't think that any of us are laughing at you. It's just a party game we've played before... just not with a vampire... or pastillage."

Charise held up one of the napkins coated in the sticky gum paste, "Nor will we ever be using pastillage again."

One of Spike's stockings had come loose from its garter, and Yolande rolled it back up to his knee and then stroked the top of his foot lovingly, "If it makes you feel better, Hart usually plays your part."

"More often than not, actually," Hart added with none of the sarcastic tone to his voice, "There was this time in Calais with an eclair that was just... Well, let's just say that I was shitting breadcrumbs and custard for a week."

Spike managed a weak laugh at the mental imagery, but he was conflicted about how he should take the fact that the humans actually worried that they'd hurt his feelings. He was supposed to be the Big Bad. The vampire sniffed, trying to brush off the rather unpleasant feelings that had caught him off guard. He sat up on the edge of the table, and Charise hugged him tightly. She placed a very soft kiss to his neck just below his shock collar.

"No more surprises, okay?" she assured as she nuzzled beneath his ear and cupped a hand over his penis as the tip was once again covered by his foreskin.

Spike nodded and stood, grimacing as he squished the gum paste that had pooled into stockings as it ran down his legs. He tried to retrieve his clothing to not feel so terribly open, but Yolande stopped him. She unravelled her turban and scarf, her blonde hair tumbling down as she did. The woman wrapped the fabric around Spike's hips and knotted it like a sarong.

She stroked her fingers over his abdominals and smiled, "Now you don't have to get your clothes dirty."

Charise went to the wall with the sideboard and pushed open a panel. Spike hadn't realized that there was a hidden door in the dining room. He needed to remember to add it to his list of all the secret passages, compartments, hallways, and stairwells that he'd managed to discover in the mansion. Hart wrapped his arm around Spike's shoulders in a congenial fashion as they went through the door into a small salon that the vampire had never been taken to before. Harriet brought her cello case with her as they entered and began to get comfortable. Spike didn't know where to sit; he felt absolutely soaked from the waist down. Charise patted a large cushion on the floor next to the sofa she chose to lounge on. Spike sat on the overstuffed pillow carefully, the moisture coating his thighs causing the material to stick him. He leaned his head on Charise's knee as she threaded her fingers through his hair.

While Harriet was removing her cello from its case, Charise whispered to her vampire, "Are you feeling better?"

Spike only nodded again, fearing the whimpering noises he might make if he opened his mouth. He wondered how he'd let Charise trying to give him pleasure bother him more the commando-boys and their doctors. He knew she wasn't deliberately trying to humiliate him; she was just wanting to include him in the kinky fun she and her friends apparently enjoyed inflicting on each other. Charise continued to rub Spike's back to comfort and calm him.

Harriet spread out her large gown carefully as she sat down, her cello situated between her knees. The melody she began to play as she put bow to strings sounded less classical and more pop-esque. Though the name escaped him, Spike was sure he'd heard the tune somewhere. The fingerboard was alight with her movements as she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the notes. Spike watched her curiously as the scent of her arousal became more evident to him than it had in the dining room.

Orgasm through cello... Sort of gives 'F-holes' a whole new meaning, Spike thought as he followed the motion of the carved cherub atop the scroll of the instrument as it turned on its endpin.

When she finished her song and received applause from those in attendance, Harriet bowed a little from her seated position, her face flushed, and asked, "Any requests?"

Spike perked up and replied quietly, "Smells Like Teen Spirit."

Though he'd been half-jesting, to his surprise Harriet began to play from rote and did so enthusiastically. By the time she reached the chorus, Hart belted out the lyrics in an operatic baritone before being whacked with a throw pillow by Yolande. Spike found it strange that Charise and her friends could sit around and casually banter as though they had not been just witnessing a naked vampire getting his ass plowed by candy-cock on the dining room table not a half-hour before. He'd been around some strange people of all stripes, both figurative and literal, but these dandies ranked up there in his top ten, possibly top five.

To be continued...




Find all chapters for this story thus far here.

x-posted on nekid_spike and darker_spike.