Slave4U, Part 3
By Tango


AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thanks to indie and Jane for the help and encouragement! Thanks to ShirleyUjest for the beta!


When Buffy woke up the following morning, she quickly realized that simply sharing a bed with Angel was not going to be as easy as she thought. They went to sleep on separate sides of the bed, however when she woke up, she found herself wrapped in his strong embrace. She was lying on her side and Angel was snuggled behind her, his body nestled intimately against hers. She was stunned by the realization that it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. In fact, a strange feeling was simmering deep inside her.

Normally, Angel was awake and dressed long before she opened her eyes, but this morning the feeling that something was different woke her very early. She started to slide away from him to get out of bed but even that slight movement awakened him. He nuzzled against her before leaving a trail of passionate, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

She was going to pull away, but it felt so good she paused for a moment. She couldn’t help but wonder if this heat coursing through her veins was what other women felt in his arms. Her breath hitched as he slid his hand over her belly, moving over her as if he planned on taking the caress to new places very soon.

“How can I pleasure you this morning, Mistress?” he murmured, his voice husky and hot against her throat. He was still half asleep but growing aroused quickly. With the slight grind of his hips into her bottom, she squealed and jerked away so hard she toppled off the bed and onto the floor. Angel was shocked fully awake, took a second to comprehend what had just happened and scrambled out of bed to help her up, his willingness to mate clearly evident by his tented trousers.

“Buffy, I’m sorry,” he blurted. He had been asleep and waking in the arms of a woman was very familiar to him. It had been so long since he had been allowed to touch a Mistress; since he had serviced a woman who would willingly take him into her bed that he had forgotten whom he was with. Noticing the scarlet on her face as she ran from the room without a word, he realized he had made a grave error.


By the time Buffy was dressed and ready for the day, Angel was also dressed and waiting for her. He was in his customary position by the windows. His back was to her and she could all but see the tension pouring off of him. She knew his actions were unintentional, but she was still disturbed by what had happened.

How can I pleasure you this morning, Mistress? The words echoed in her mind and sent a shiver down her spine. His voice had been filled with heated, sweet promises. It made her wonder just what it would have been like if she had allowed him to continue. She understood only slightly the act of mating. It was a degrading act where men were forced to pleasure those they served. She felt sorry for him, this big, muscular creature who was forced to do the bidding of others. Why then, had it felt so right, being in his arms, feeling his lust growing against her, his lips sliding down her throat? What would it be like, she wondered, to wake in the morning and for him to say her name and not “Mistress”, which applied to any woman he happened to be in bed with? For him to know without opening those deep brown eyes that he was with her, that he didn’t have to perform, that he was safe and loved?

As she leaned against the wall and looked him over, it made her a little sad. He had never been given a choice and even if she were willing to take him as her consort, she would just be a warm body in a sea of memories. He would wake in the morning and automatically serve his Mistress.

Of course, she had dealt with the entire episode with poise and sophistication, she thought with disgust. She’d freaked out and managed to humiliate herself by falling out of bed. She knew that one word would have forced him to his knees if she had wished it, so why had she been unable to deal with his hands on her body? She couldn’t blame him for what happened. He had been used for sex many, many times. It wasn’t his fault.


Angel followed Buffy down the hall to the dining room. He walked slowly, matching her pace and made sure he stayed two paces behind her and slightly to the left. Today would be the first test run of pretending he was her consort. He had planned to take things a little more slowly, and although his ardor driven performance in bed that morning hadn’t improved their relationship, Giles’ announcement before breakfast that there would be a ball in a week certainly prodded them forward.

He was grateful when Giles suggested as gently as he could, that Buffy was not prepared for this event. They had both been standing in her bedroom, working up the nerve to mention what had happened that morning, when Giles entered and broke the news. Joyce had accepted an invitation to the Chase Annual Ball the following Friday.

“So?” Buffy said, also thankful to be spared the humiliating moment with Angel. “I’ve been to millions of these things.”

“You’ve been to millions of these things alone,” Giles said. “You’ve never attended one of these things with a consort. You need to learn protocol and –“

“No offense, Giles, but I’m sure it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll do what my mother does – treat Angel like a piece of meat and boss him around,” Buffy said.

“Buffy,” Giles warned, “I’m afraid it isn’t that simple.”

“Why not?” Buffy sighed, and now her stomach was still flip-flopping from the awkward and stilted explanation that was offered. Angel and Giles had spent several long, excruciating minutes trying to get it out. She had never had a lover and she had never been to a ball where all of her friends had also had consorts.

Of course, she had frequented big formal affairs where the older women had men with them and some of the younger girls had flirted with choosing a consort, but this was a different situation altogether. Her sometime friend and rival, Cordelia Chase, was holding a formal consort ball. There would only be adult women invited. No young, impressionable girls, but women who had taken lovers into their beds.

And her mother had accepted for the both of them. Her heart sank. She would have to convince not only her mother, but also a room full of well seasoned women and men, that she had taken Angel into her body. She turned scarlet again and was thankful that Angel was walking behind her so he couldn’t see her face.

When they arrived at the dining room, she was relieved to note that her mother wasn’t at breakfast. Joyce was accustomed to being fed while still in bed and usually long after normal breakfast hours. She turned and peeked at Angel.

“Buffy, don’t look at me,” he whispered. “You have to assume that I’m so faithful that I will never leave you for any reason.”

“What if you’re called away?” she asked, stopping and turning fully around to face him.

“You can’t turn around and face me,” he sighed. “If you glance in my direction, it means you want something from me. You can’t check to see if I’m still here or what I’m doing. I’m below you.”

“You’re ten feet taller than me,” she pointed out stubbornly, rolling her eyes up to him.

“I’m socially below you,” he said. “Now turn around and keep your head up high. You are my Mistress, not my friend.”

“This is stupid,” she grumbled, then marched off and sat down at an empty chair in the middle of a long formal table. The table, she thought, was as ridiculous as the rest of it. No one ever ate here unless there was a party and sitting there with no one else made her feel a little strange. Angel had insisted, however, so she obliged. She watched with fascination as he arranged a place setting in front of her, and then served her breakfast. He placed the napkin in her lap and waited on her hand and foot.

He did not, however, mention when she asked him when he intended to eat breakfast, what would happen at the ball. He decided to take things one step at a time. At her insistence, he went into the kitchen and brought food out for himself and sat next to her at the table. He could see that training her would be a long and tiring experience. If she wasn’t so kind and equal minded it would be easier.

“I’m sorry for what happened this morning,” he apologized quietly as he was clearing their breakfast dishes.

“That’s okay,” she choked and stood, making a show of brushing invisible crumbs from her clothes. She was glad he waited until after breakfast to say anything or she might have choked.

Angel went into the kitchen with the dishes and deposited them into the sink. He left them for someone else to wash. It wasn’t his job. His job was to service Buffy, to wait on her, to seduce her and finally, to make love to her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was going to be a long, long week.

When he walked back into the dining room, he found her waiting for him. He knew she would be and he immediately informed her of her error. “Never wait for me,” he said. “A Mistress waits for no man. It’s my place to catch up with you and be with you, ready to serve you by the time you need me.”

“If I’m the damn Mistress, I should be able to wait for you if I want,” she said and turned to march out of the room before he told her she was wrong again.


That night when it was time to go to bed, Buffy was frustrated, nervous and strangely excited about the idea of climbing back into bed with Angel. She found, during the day, that he was tireless in his duties, unwilling to back out of character in public for even a second and didn’t seem to require any rest at all. She hated the fact that there were so many rules and that suddenly she wasn’t allowed to do anything for herself just because she had taken a consort.

“So…I guess it’s time for bed,” she said, watching as he turned from his place by the windows.

“I know this is all new to you,” Angel said. “I’m sorry this is difficult.”

“It’s just new,” she said. “And really, really stupid. The whole walking behind me thing is annoying. I’d rather you walked beside me so we could talk.”

“Me too,” he agreed, his voice low and rumbling and full of desire. “I have a suggestion.”

“Don’t stop now,” she invited with a laugh. “You’ve been full of suggestions all day.”

“Owning a consort-“ he started but she interrupted. “Don’t say ‘own’,” she said with a wince.

“Okay, having a consort, is more than just having one person who services you on a daily basis. As you know, the whole point of a consort is having a lover. We don’t look like lovers,” he said, just barely managing to keep the heat from his voice. Being in bed with Buffy last night and knowing he would climb into bed with her again tonight sent a need he hadn’t felt in quite some time course through his body. It wasn’t just the thought of being in bed and pleasuring a Mistress again, but pleasuring Buffy that aroused him. Buffy, with her big hazel eyes, her sweet smelling skin, her enticingly rounded body was what he desired. The idea that she was completely untouched by another man made him want her even more.

“How can we when you’re always walking three steps behind me?” she asked, her innocence apparent in the blush that rose in her cheeks.

“There are times when it’s appropriate to touch your consort in public,” he explained, “and as my Mistress, it will be obvious that you don’t know my body or my touch.”

“Okay, is this some kind of get in my pants thing?” she demanded, exasperated.

“That would make this much easier for me,” he managed baldly, “but I have another suggestion.”

“Can’t wait,” she said, the blush that had stained her cheeks before reddening with embarrassment and guilt.

He stepped closer, moving within arms length of her and touched her shoulders when she began to back away. “Let me kiss you,” he said, his voice becoming that low, sexy rumble again. “Just a kiss before bed. Nothing more.”

“S-so I can get used to you touching me?” she stuttered.

“Yes,” he answered, moving closer. He caressed her cheek and waited for her consent. She stared at his full, sensual lips for a full minute before she nodded jerkily and tried not to flinch when he moved closer.

He threaded his fingers through her silky tresses and eased her closer into his arms, deliberately pulling her body fully against his. He reveled in the fact that this would be her first as he gently pressed his lips against hers, kissing her softly, and then increasing the pressure, coaxing her mouth open so that he could slip his tongue inside. He taught her with his years of skill to kiss him, to rub those firm breasts against his chest until she was gasping in his arms, meeting his desire with her own. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on for dear life as he took her halfway to readiness with just his talented mouth and his hands sliding slowly down her back.

He was aroused almost immediately. Having her in his arms, rubbing against him, was sweeter than he had imagined it would be. He drew her more tightly against him, knowing that his arousal was pressing insistently against her belly. Her nightshirt was soft under his hands and it would be so easy to slide it off her nubile little body and feast on her like he dreamed of since the moment he saw her. He wanted her so badly at that moment, he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle one more moment in her arms. He broke away with a gasp and backed away. “With your permission, I’ll get ready for bed,” he mumbled and stalked out of the room rapidly.

He shut the door behind him and leaned against the wall in the hallway, gathering his senses. Buffy Summers, virgin Mistress and one of the wealthiest daughters in the country had successfully taken Angel, the most talented seduction consort to his knees. He was in love with her, he realized as he tilted his head back against the wall. Admitting it to himself strengthened his resolve. He would have her and soon.

He straightened and headed down the hall, attempting to will his erection under control. When he turned the corner, he nearly ran straight into a blond man heading in the opposite direction.

“Watch it, mate,” the stranger snapped, and smirked at the tent in Angel’s pants. “I see the little Mistress still has her dimpled knees together.”

With a roar, Angel slammed him against the wall. “You’ll watch what you say about her,” he growled.

“Hey, no hard feelings,” the newcomer said, keeping his amused grin. “I’m not the enemy. Well…actually, I am the enemy.” His grin broadened and he shoved his way free from Angel’s grasp.

“I don’t even know you,” Angel said stepping back.

“Oh, but you will,” he promised. “I’m Spike. Mistress Joyce brought me in to take care of Buffy’s pesky little virginity problem.”

“I’m her consort,” Angel snapped. “You won’t touch her!”

“Everyone knows you used to be a very talented whore, but the little Rosenberg chit sent you to the vet and now you don’t chase the other puppies anymore. Mistress Joyce won’t be humiliated because you can’t seal the deal. She’s not putting all her eggs in one basket. If I deflower the chit, I’ll be all but free.”

“You can never be free,” Angel whispered harshly. “Even speaking of such a thing will result in punishment. You’re an idiot if you think she’ll let you do as you want for raping her daughter.”

“Rape’s an ugly word, mate,” Spike said.

“If you try to take her against her will it is rape,” Angel sneered. “And the price for rape is death. That’s as free as you’ll ever get. Mistress Joyce will be glad to see you swing after you’ve done her bidding.”


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