Rating: FRAO, NC-17
Word Count: ~1400
Trigger Warnings: consensual BDSM, specifically bondage, spanking, and rimming
Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately.
A/N: I really have no idea where this came from... Unbeta'd. Concrit welcome.
Faith’s tied up exquisitely, arms tightly bound behind her back. Giles has her positioned perfectly, pert little arse up in the air, knees tucked in at a beautiful angle. It makes for a breathtaking image—or rather, it would if the light were better. He turns off the overhead light, lets the sun provide a soft natural light that highlights every angle of Faith’s body.
“You gonna make me wait all day? C’mon Pops, don’t leave a girl hanging,” Faith says, her face turned to look at him.
And just like that, the perfect image is broken. “Faith,” Giles says.
“Do I gotta beg? Pretty please, Daddy?” Faith says, mouth turned up at the corners with mischief.
Giles tugs on a shock of Faith’s hair. “Do I need to use the gag?” he says, irritation creeping into his tone. “I thought you would be able to handle it without any help, but, apparently I was wrong.” He gentles his hold on Faith’s hair, turns it into a caress, stroking over the nape of her neck.
“No. I’ll be a good girl. Promise.” She doesn’t say anything else for a minute, maybe more. Giles is almost ready to retrieve the gag, when she finally says it, “Sir,” full body giving a tremble.
She’s ready then. Good.
He starts with the flat of his hand. He hits the outside of her thighs at first, just warming them up. He moves to the back of her thighs, giving a firm slap on first right, then left. It leaves a pretty pink mark that makes her skin light up so beautifully, he can’t help but stop and caress it.
She’s still relaxed, a perfect canvas for his every stroke. It makes him yearn to move ahead, but not yet, not just yet.
He works the backs of her thighs until she’s begun to breathe more heavily, begun to tense her rear in preparation of what she knows is coming. After one particular hit she sighs out a long moan. He stops, strokes the skin he’s just hit with the lightest of touches. She shudders.
Her arse…. Her arse is a thing of beauty. He could happily spend all his days communing with her arse. It’s lovely and round, lily white and soft and strong.
The first slap cracks down harder than any he’s used up to this point. She yips. Her rear giggles down then up. He slaps again, just as hard at exactly the same spot on her arse. This time she holds still, but her groan is positively eloquent.
He peppers her arse with hard slaps until it's tomato red and Faith's voice has grown faint from the vocalizations she's produced. Eventually he hears her voice break on a sob. It sounds like music to his ears.
He brings her down slowly, gentling his slaps and moving them to her hips, back to her thighs. Eventually, he's just petting her sides, stroking tickle-light over as-yet untouched skin.
He trails his hands to her hipbones and holds on tight, and then he's bending over and blowing a steady stream over the burning red canvas of her arse.
She <i>quakes</i>. Legs that remained tucked perfectly through the whole spanking kick out in a disjointed frenzy, ankle kicking Giles in the stomach. He huffs out an 'oof' and falls halfway over. Luckily the bed is right there to catch him. He grimaces to himself and says, "I suppose that goes down as a bad idea."
"Yeah. You could say that," Faith says, voice coming out like shredded glass. Giles runs a gentle hand over her arse. Faith winces. "Hey, want to lay off? In case you didn't notice, I'm a little tender here."
"Well, I could do that," Giles says, removing his hand. "But if I do, I'll never be able to rim you until you cry."
Faith's eyes flash at him and she says, "Don't tease a girl like that, G."
"Faith," Giles says, landing a slap on her arse.
Faith yips out a yell. She lays there panting for a minute, head hanging. "Please. Sir," she eventually grits out.
"Good girl," he says, and then he's tugging her to be in perfect position, arse in front of him like a feast.
He starts by finding the reddest section of her arse and running a dull fingernail over it. She yips. He smiles.
He rubs his stubble over it, turning the red skin even redder, and then he blows over it again. She moans.
He runs a knuckle from the top of her crack down until he’s right over her hole. He screws his knuckle in a little, until her little hole is twitching itself open.
He grabs her then, both hands, each holding a cheek, exposing her to his sight. He digs his thumbs in hard, right next to her hole, and then he’s kissing her in greeting, chaste and sweet. It turns dirty fast.
He fucks her with his tongue, fucks her until she’s wet from his saliva, fucks her until her voice is a constant moaning whine, wordlessly begging for more, more, more.
He lets his thumb slip down until it takes the place of his tongue, and then he’s fucking her with his thumb, thrusting in over and over again, until she’s sobbing with it.
He pushes in with his thumb and holds it there, and she shakes around him, all over. He lets the fingers of the same hand that’s fucking her slip down until they reach her wet, wet pussy. He slips in his first two fingers, and then he’s clenching his fingers tight toward his thumb. She screams and clenches tight all around him, extra wetness slicking out of her quim.
He doesn’t let up for even a second. As soon as her body begins to unclench, he begins thrusting his hand—he begins fucking her in both holes. It’s not even five minutes later that she yells out an “uhng uhng uhng” and tightens around him in orgasm again. He pinches her clit, hard, making her buck and arch her back and forcing a sharp yell from her throat.
She takes a long time to come down from that one, body an arced swoop for minutes on end, holes clenched about him so tight he’s beginning to cramp. He thinks about giving her one more orgasm, but her come is starting to get the kind of tacky that means more pain than pleasure for her if they carry on as they are now.
As soon as her back’s evened out to a straight plane, he slowly pulls his fingers out. She sighs. He unbuckles her restraints with his clean hand, and tugs her until she’s lying next to him. Wordlessly he holds out a hand.
She just looks at him, attempting to be her regular unruffled self. The image is a bit difficult to view with equanimity, what with her smeared eye makeup and the way she winces as she shifts her weight.
They hold their stalemate for a minute longer, and then she’s reaching over the side of the bed and grabbing the pair of pants she left in a tangled heap on the floor. She rifles through the pockets until she finds a crumpled twenty dollar bill and then she shoves it in his hand. As she begins dressing, pulling on a thin strap of a thing for underwear, she says, “Who’da guessed you’d end up being the kinkiest of the scoobies?”
Giles just smiles to himself, pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his sticky fingers.
“One thing I just gotta know,” Faith says, shirt on, but unbuttoned. “Where do you keep the cuffs?”
Giles smiles to himself and carefully folds his handkerchief into quarters and says, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” picking up the cuffs and making his way to the door.
“I seriously cannot believe you top Spike,” Faith says, tucking her shirt into her tight waistband. “And Willow. That girl has got one dirty mind.” Giles lets his grin grow, and is about to remind her exactly which decade he was a young degenerate when she says, “Really, you’ve almost given Wes a run for his money. Now that’s a man who knows what to do with a bullwhip.”
Giles feels his smile morph to something a bit more reminiscent of that same misspent youth. He really has been meaning to make a trip to Los Angeles. It’s quite remiss of him to put off visiting his compatriot for as long as he has.
He’s fairly sure that if he turned around, he would see Faith smiling. He doesn’t let himself turn around.