Angelus’s Mercy – Celebrities & Fan Fiction

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Buffy slowly drifted awake as she lay, warm and safe, upon her bed. Even though the calendar promised that winter had arrived weeks ago, the nights had stubbornly remained unseasonably hot.

“I was wondering when you’d finally wake up.”

The voice was deep, masculine, and familiar … yet she instantly knew something was amiss. As a wave of adrenaline coursed through her, she opened her eyes to find the unexpected sight of Angel looming above. When their eyes met, he smiled. No, he leered. She likened his expression to that of a predator sizing up its next meal.

That isn’t Angel!

She attempted to scramble away, and her blood ran cold when she realized that something was holding her fast to the bed. Daring to avert her gaze from the monster whose return she’d spent the last decade fearing, she took stock of the situation. The bedroom lights, though on, had been dimmed to a soft, golden glow. Worryingly, instead of her pajamas she wore only a thin white cotton t-shirt and a thong made of the same material. Glancing about, she spotted her missing sleepwear sitting in a neatly folded pile atop the dresser.

How did he change my clothes without me noticing?

By far the most alarming realization, however, was that her wrists and ankles were locked within shiny, leather-lined manacles. These cuffs were themselves solidly affixed to thick metal shackles, the links of which extended to the corners of the bed and vanished from her view. The taut, unyielding chains held her legs wide aside and stretched her arms towards the edges of the mattress. She tested the fit of the restraints and found them to have nearly zero give against her skin, almost as if they had been custom fitted. She could see no locks, but small circular openings visible in the rims of the cuffs most likely acted as some kind of keyhole.

As Angelus’s mocking, enraging smile hovered above her, she yanked with all four limbs as strongly as she could. The bed was made of wood, surely it would break if she brought enough force to bear. In response to her struggles, she heard nothing except a mild creaking, and the bed moved not at all … not even a twitch.

I don’t think the chains are attached to the bed frame … there must be some kind of contraption underneath. How long has he been planning this?

As embarrassing as it was, she needed help, and she needed it now. She opened her mouth to scream, and stunned terror washed over her when nothing except a faint mewl poured forth. As the creeping edges of panic began to seize hold, she tried again, and once more only a whispered murmur emerged from her throat.

“Shhhhhh ….” Angelus said mockingly as he moved closer to the head of the bed. Buffy watched in quivering anxiety as he reached towards one of the shackles and manipulated something beneath her line of sight. She heard a faint ratcheting sound, observed the mattress indent as the tension was gradually increased, and in short order the fetter securing her left arm had been tightened by several inches. Angelus calmly, deliberately, moved around the bed and reduced the slack from each chain in turn, until ultimately Buffy found herself pulled so tightly that she was unable to wriggle meaningfully in any direction.

He’s got me good …

Angelus began to undress. He took his time in slowly unfastening each button of his shirt until, at last, he stood bare-chested. Never breaking eye contact, he slipped his belt free and tossed it apart, then removed his pants and boxers. As she expected, he was already impressively erect.

That sick bastard. Of course, he’d get off on this.

She strained defiantly against the restraints. Also as expected, they didn’t budge.

“You’re probably wondering why you can’t speak, and why you didn’t notice me setting up any of this,” Angelus said as he gestured towards her bound body. “A little something in that tea you had a few hours ago made sure you’d be quiet, compliant, and once you woke up …” he reached down and ran a hand along her hip, “suitably excited.”

She turned her head away in disgust as she felt her body instinctively react to the feel of his skin against hers. Goosebumps rose from her flesh, and when to her shame a slick wetness began to form between her thighs, she tried to close her legs. Of course, the bindings kept them helplessly spread.

“Don’t even want to look?” Angelus asked as he reached beneath her shirt, ignored her futile attempts to squirm from his touch, and cupped a breast within his large, strong hand. Buffy glanced down and watched the muscles of his forearm rhythmically flex as his fingers sinuously caressed her skin. Once again, her body betrayed her as turncoat nipples sprung to attention. Angelus, bastard that he was, took full benefit by slipping both hands beneath her shirt and gently squeezing them.

She opened her mouth to protest, but only a barely audible gasp emerged.

“You know what, these are just going to get in the way.” He plucked at the fabric of her shirt and thong. “I’ll be right back.” He leaned over until his face was right above hers. She again tried to look away, but he firmly, in an oddly gentle fashion, grabbed her chin and twisted her face until they were eye to eye. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Ha ha. Very funny.

Angelus disappeared into the bathroom. While he rummaged about in one of the cabinets, she once again tried to discover any amount of leverage with which she might be able to slip a wrist free of a manacle, or break the frame holding her immobile, or anything. She was glistening from the exertion by the time she admitted defeat and ceased her efforts.

When Angelus returned, he held something silver and shiny in his hand. Buffy’s eyes widened in fear when she realized it was a pair of scissors. Delicately, almost like a gardener pruning a plant, he neatly sliced first through the waistband of her panties, and then the sleeves and collar of her t-shirt. He waited until all the cuts were made, and then with a theatrical flourish whisked both garments away to leave Buffy naked beneath the lights. Her eyes glittered with anger as she watched her captor gaze appreciatively on her now very nude and very defenseless form. She suspected that Angelus enjoyed the sight of it as much as Angel did.

He put a hand on her stomach, swirled a slow circle in the sweat accumulating in the hollow above her hips, and then traced his fingers downward. Buffy half-closed her eyes and bit her lower lip as his fingers danced over the smooth skin of her mons and then nudged at the edges of her sex.

“Might as well enjoy this,” Angelus said in a low, husky voice. “It’s not as though the drug I gave you will allow any other option.”

She whimpered and bucked her hips as his fingers delicately parted her labia and teased at the hood of her clitoris. A moan escaped her throat as, to her horror, the exquisitely sensitive bud responded to his touch and disobediently began assaulting her with rippling waves of involuntary pleasure.

“Nice of you to wax for me,” Angelus taunted her. “It really makes it so much easier to see what you’re working with.”

She turned her head away again and felt an unexpected twinge of disappointment when, seemingly in response to her averted gaze, he removed his hand from between her legs.

When she heard him place something on the bed, she gave in to her curiosity and fearfully checked to see what new torment he might have devised. Angelus unzipped a small black bag, reached inside, and pulled out an odd-looking strip of foam-lined leather that had a triangular hole cut in the middle. It wasn’t until he reached for her head that she realized what he was holding.

She wildly thrashed and attempted to pull away as he adroitly fitted the triangle-shaped gap over her nose and wrapped the blindfold tight around her gleaming blonde hair. Deciding that resistance was pointless, she held her head steady while he buckled the leather strap. When he pulled his hands away, she tried to rub the blindfold free, but it didn’t budge. The foam was comfortable, at least, but no light whatsoever was visible.

At least I won’t have to watch what he does.

“There, that’s better,” Angelus purred in her ear. She lurched away at the unexpected nearness of his voice. “Now you can focus on your other senses.”

He resumed his ministrations on her sex, and once again she found herself humiliated at how readily her body responded. Sweat began to coat her skin and although she thankfully couldn’t see the evidence of her arousal, she knew an increasingly large stain was spreading on the comforter beneath her crotch. At least the blindfold denied Angelus the amusement of watching her eyes roll back into her head as he skillfully played the sensitive spots of her body like a lute, first lightly caressing one breast, then sucking upon a nipple, and all the while his hand continued its slow, tortuous manipulation of her clit.

He knows everything about my body that Angel knows …

It was a horrifying wondered.

Eventually, after long minutes of rapturous, but increasingly frustrating, stimulation, she realized that he was toying with her, keeping her on the edge but not letting her discover relief. She was equal parts enraged at his cruelty and ashamed how desperately her straining body needed the climax that hovered maddeningly just out of reach. Without even meaning to, she found herself pleading for release.

“Are you begging for something?” Angelus asked. She could hear his sneer without seeing it. “Better try harder … remember, I can keep this up all night.” She felt him reposition himself until his head was between her spread-eagled legs, then his lips began exploring the inner folds of her sex, and finally, when he had nimbly trapped her clitoris between his lips and started rasping it with his probing tongue … then she truly begged. A torrent of moans escaped her throat and her restrained hands clawed feebly at the air as she prayed for mercy.

Angelus reveled in torturing his bound, sightless captive for a few more intensely long seconds, then with a twist of the tongue in the perfect way, and with two fingers curved inside her just so, he pushed her over the edge, and she came. And came and came and came. Her back arched, her mouth hung open in a silent scream, and it felt like a lifetime before her senses began to return and the thunderous, colossal crest of the orgasm receded enough to allow for breath.

When her muscles had finally gone limp, Angel reached up and removed the blindfold. He wasn’t sweaty, of course, vampires didn’t sweat, but he did appear immensely proud of himself. He leaned down and ardently kissed her, a gesture that she returned enthusiastically. She didn’t care that she could taste herself on his lips. After what felt like an eternity, but simultaneously not nearly long enough, he sat back up.

“Wow,” he said. “Was that as intense as it looked?”

“More,” Buffy whispered.

He frowned at her. “I think you can drop the role play.”

“Oh right,” she replied with a giggle. “Sorry, you know how I really like to get into character.”

“I’ll say,” he agreed as he gazed at the makeshift rack holding her body in its splayed position. “This was quite the do-it-yourself project.”

“You have no idea how long it took me to rig up a tackle system strong enough that I couldn’t break it.”

“You may be really committed to playing the part of the damsel in distress,” Angel said ruefully as he rubbed at the back of his neck, “but I can’t say that pretending to be Angelus appeals to me all that much. Then again, if it makes you happy …”

“It does,” she said with an willing nod. It had taken her years of hinting, and then flat-out cajoling, to convince Angel to set apart his guilt long enough to give such a scenario a try, but the effort had been worth it. “Remember, I’m carrying around all this trauma from our high school years, before we figured out how to make things work in the bedroom without you turning into a monster … and this helps a lot.” She patted at the chains. “Also, sometimes a slayer just wants to let someone else take charge.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, then shrugged.

She stared down at his crotch.

In Angel’s current state, I might chip a tooth on that.

“You know,” she said in a seductive purr, “I’m still at your mercy.” She wiggled her hips for his advantage. “I don’t want to leave you high and dry … how about you take advantage of the situation?”

Angel’s voice was hoarse and clenched when he finally replied. “Don’t tempt me, Buffy. I think tonight, that would be too much, and you don’t want to meet Angelus for real given your current predicament.”

Definitely not.

“Aww,” she pouted. “I still feel like it isn’t fair.” A notion occurred to her, and a smirk stretched across her face as she glanced down at her very nude, very satisfied form. “You could always enjoy the view and take care of yourself?”

An expression of thoughtful excitement crossed Angel’s face.

That certainly piqued his interest.

“You wouldn’t be touching me, so it wouldn’t be pure happiness, but it might still be fun.” She wiggled again. “I could even struggle if you’d like?”

“It would be weird with you watching me,” Angel said doubtfully as he considered her proposal.

“Well, it was just a suggestion.”

Angel leaned in close and kissed her forehead. “I think you misunderstood.”

A moment later, the blindfold was once again draped over her eyes, and she found herself giggling like a madwoman as Angel buckled it tight.

“I love you, Angel,” she said as he withdrew his hands. She heard him stand up, probably to get a better look at her.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back. “Now, how about that struggling? Try to make it convincing.”