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Dead Soul
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Angst/horror
Pairings: Spike/Drusilla, Spike/Sunday, Drusilla/Sunday, Spike/Drusilla/Sunday
Warnings: BDSM, non-consensual sex, violence, bloodplay, language, f/f slash,
inappropriate humor - all the good stuff
Disclaimers: Story and chapter titles are titles of Blondie songs. (I thought
about being careful with song dates and such but, like Spike, I got bored. Any
anachronisms are either intentional or so the hell what.) The usual disclaimers
for both characters and song titles. The only things I own are the things I
steal from dorm rooms. No, that sweater doesn't make you look fat. It just makes
you look purple
Distribution: Want? Take, have. But please let me know where
Feedback: Keeps the bloodlust in check, mailto:deadsoul820@aol.com
or drop me a comment on my LiveJournal, Dead Soul
Summary: Spike, Drusilla and Sunday in New York City, 1977. Ever wonder where Sunday (BtVS, Season 4, "The Freshman") came from? Why her fashion sense seems familiar, not to mention her attitude? She tells her story.
I feel like Alice in freakin' Vampireland, I thought. Either that or a life-sized Barbie doll. Spike had left to "hunt" he'd called it and Drusilla had spent the last hour and a half playing with me. She'd fixed my hair just like hers and done my makeup just like hers. She'd wanted me to wear one of her dresses, but none of them would fit me.
I had the usual American girl's hang-ups about my body, I wished my boobs were bigger, my waist smaller, all that, but I was by no stretch of the imagination fat. All the boys back in high school seemed to think that what I had was more than all right. But Drusilla was so thin; her bones so delicate that the one dress she'd tried to get me into would not even begin to meet across my back. She'd given up on the dress and put me back in the jeans and t-shirt Spike had given me. She was searching in her vanity case for a ribbon to put in my hair when Spike came storming back.
"My lighter, you stupid cow!" he yelled, getting right down in my face. "You've got my lighter and I want it back, right now!"
I shrank back, trying to decide whether or not to deny I had it, although I knew that he'd find it on me easily enough. Dru didn't seem to be at all concerned by Spike's rage. She acted as if he'd stopped by for a cup of tea and to discuss the weather. "See how pretty I made it?" she said. "Its hair was in an awful snarl, but I brushed it and brushed it and now it's all shiny and smooth." She found the ribbon she was looking for and held it out towards me. Spike snatched it from her hand and wrapped it around my neck.
Pulling it tightly enough to frighten me, but not tightly enough to totally choke off all my air, he said, in a much calmer tone, "Drusilla, my dearest love, Miss Sunday here has been very naughty. I fear she must be punished."
This new, cold tone of voice scared me more than his yelling had. I was opening my mouth to plead with him when Dru squealed, clapping her hands. "Oh yes! Let's punish it now. Bad Sunday!"
Spike dragged me up by the ribbon around my neck. After Dru had given up trying to dress me up, she'd retied my hands and feet so, as Spike pulled and I couldn't move my hobbled feet, I fell against him so hard and suddenly that I knocked him down too, landing heavily on top of him. Uh-oh, I thought, that's not going to make him any happier with me.
He pushed me off him irritably, but took the opportunity to dig in my pockets for his lighter. He fished it out and held it, lit, in front of my face. "Little girls who play with fire get burned," he hissed. He jerked me up and slung me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. Dru had gone ahead to the far end of the room and turned on the single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. He put me down next to where the manacles hung - leaning me face first against the wall.
Dru untied my hands and feet. She grabbed my left wrist and stretched it towards one of the steel cuffs. Spike stopped her. "Let's get her undressed first, love. Those are my clothes she's wearing and I'm rather fond of that shirt."
At that point I lost it. As they stripped the clothes off me, I struggled and screamed, tried to fight with everything in me but they were just too strong. As they hauled me to my feet and closed the manacles around my wrists, I was crying pathetically. I was stretched out face first against the cold brick wall, it chilled my wet cheeks and the roughness scraped my sensitive nipples. Drusilla took the wide red silk ribbon from around my neck and tied it over my eyes.
"Want your crop, sweetheart?" I heard Spike ask. "She's your toy, you get to punish her."
"What should I do to it, my darling?" she said. I could hear a swishing noise and got a very strong visual image of her swinging the riding crop back and forth, getting ready to lay into me.
"Rip her to shreds," came the cold reply. A shiver went through me. I knew I might very well not survive this. She was too crazy to know when to stop and he was too angry to care.
The first blow landed across my shoulders. It stung like hell, but the pain faded in a few seconds. But I knew that she was just getting warmed up. The following blows fell harder and faster all up and down my back, leaving me no time in between to recover. I was silent at first, trying to hang onto a tiny last shred of pride, but in no time I was screaming and writhing, trying uselessly to avoid the crop as it slashed across my back time and time again. I could feel the warm wetness of my blood trickling from the welts, I could hear, in between my screams, the drops of my blood flying off the end of the crop and splashing against the walls and the floor. The blows were being aimed lower, striping my ass and upper thighs now. I could no longer move to avoid them and the familiar blackness was creeping along the edges of my consciousness.
One more blow fell and I tensed myself for another, digging my nails into the wall. But instead of more pain, I felt a soothing wetness tracing the fiery streaks of pain on my back. "Mmm, it tastes like pain and fear," Drusilla said from right behind me. As she was licking the welts on my back, I felt two large hands on my hips and another tongue licking its way across the wounds on my ass and thighs.
I shuddered and sighed. It felt so good. The stinging turned to tingling and I could feel a warmth building inside me that grew as they licked the blood from my body. I let myself float, lulled into submission by their cool rough tongues, but, too soon, they stopped.
I was turned around, my back screaming again as it came into contact with the wall, and the ribbon was removed from my eyes. I blinked and saw Spike and Drusilla kissing, licking the blood, my blood, off each other's faces. When they were all clean, Spike whispered to his lover, "My turn to play with the pet, Pet?"
She smiled and nodded, turning to give me a cat that ate the canary look. "As long as I get to watch," she said.
Spike stalked towards me, fairly radiating menace. He dug the infamous lighter out of his pocket, once more holding it, lit, in front of my face. My eyes were drawn helplessly to the flame, watching as it came closer and closer. "How do you feel about your pet having no eyebrows, Dru?" he asked conversationally. I closed my eyes, not able to watch for another second.
"Don't hurt its pretty face," I heard Dru say in the background. "I want to play dress up with it and I can't if its face is all burned up." I opened my eyes hopefully.
Spike waved the flame towards my face once more and I jumped, but he lowered it. "What about her tits, my love, can I hurt her pretty tits?" I could feel the flame licking at the underside of my breasts as he moved it back and forth - never leaving it in one place long enough to actually burn me.
"Oh yeah, Spike," Dru said silkily. "Don't like her tits, they're bigger than mine."
"But not nearly as dainty and pretty, my plum." He clicked closed the lighter, extinguishing the flame and went over to Drusilla. He stood behind her and ran his hands over her small perky breasts, tweaking her nipples into stiffness. I could feel my own hardening as I watched. She rolled her head back into his neck and moaned a little, then opened her eyes to look at me.
"Look Spike, our pet likes to watch us play. But we're not done punishing it yet."
"Right you are, pumpkin. I'll finish with her and then you and I will have a good, long shag until the sun comes up."
Dru leaned away from him and he released her, going to a trunk in the corner that I hadn't noticed before. He withdrew a long black taper candle and lit it with his lighter. I'd seen colored tapers before and usually they were white on the inside with the color just a thin skin on the outside. This candle was black all the way through.
"I see you're noticing the special candle," he said as he got right up to me. "Black ones burn hotter, the darker the candle the hotter the wax." As he said this, he tipped the candle so a fat blob of molten wax fell onto my left breast. It burned like fire - the candle had been very close to my skin and the wax had had no time to cool before it hit me.
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