Master Spike

After giving herself body and soul to Spike, Buffy had discovered that she was a pleasure freak, a pervert on a level she had never before experienced. Her former enemy was satisfying his rage at having been brought back to life. She was ready to do anything to indulge in any experience, and Spike was precisely the one who could provide her with what would satisfy this desire for debauchery.

He was at her side after a completely delirious night of pleasure. He took out a pair of handcuffs.

• Would you like me to initiate you into pure debauchery, an experience worthy of the writings of the divine Marquis de Sade? Don't worry, a little pain, my dear, can prevent me from any desire for ****, and I would so love to know your limits.

Buffy trembled, and yet she still wanted more. She hesitated and made a half-hearted face.

• Okay, but if this gets out, I'll rip your heart out. He handcuffed her and said,
• Come follow me to my playroom. She's experienced incredible cries of pain, but now she'll experience your cries, a hymn of pleasure and suffering that will do nothing more than satisfy your thirst for debauchery.

Buffy, still naked, followed him obediently. Her heart was beating like crazy, yet she felt more alive than ever. She discovered the room, which was worthy of Sade, Casanova, and the Inquisition. Spike shrugged.

• You have fun as you can. He led her to a St. Andrew's cross. When her arms and legs were spread and bound with leather bracelets, she shuddered with delight. He blindfolded her.
• No need to see it, you'll feel it like never before; it will heighten your other senses.