Willow's Penance

Willow, back to normal after her crisis as the Witch Supreme, woke up as Buffy was tying her up.

"What are you doing, Buffy? I'm back to normal. It's not necessary anymore." Buffy replied gloomily.

"You thought that after everything you put me through, this would be easy? You brought me back to life without my consent, you hit me, you threatened me. I've had enough. You'll pay for my forgiveness." Willow began to cry. She was ashamed. She knew what she had done and couldn't forgive herself.

"Forgive me, Buffy. You're right. Do with me what you want." Oh yes, you're going to be my sex **** until you pay the bill, and believe me, that's not happening anytime soon.

Once her legs and arms were bound, Willow's body was completely exposed. Buffy, wielding a bullwhip, circled Willow, searching for the most painful spot, when suddenly, with all its might, the bullwhip struck Willow's breasts.

The blow cracked in the room, followed by a muffled cry from Willow, her eyes widening in pain. A bright red welt marked her chest, and she gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"We'll move on to 15 strokes." Before Willow could reply, a blow slid up between her thighs and struck her crotch, right on Willow's genitals.

Willow screamed, her body arching violently against the bonds that held her. The searing pain between her thighs made her gasp for air, her fingers clutching desperately at the ropes. Buffy watched her face contorted with pain with cold satisfaction, the whip raised for another blow.

"One..." she counted in a low, dangerous voice, as the red welt widened across Willow's pale skin.

Buffy ran her fingers over Willow's skin,

"You will suffer as I have suffered from your spells, pacts, and other things you decided on without ever asking my opinion." She raised the whip again, not pausing, going slowly so Willow would feel each impact.

The second blow landed on the curve of her hip, leaving a scarlet mark that made Willow's skin tingle. A hoarse groan escaped her, her nails digging into her palms. Buffy breathed slowly, methodically, her eyes black with vengeance.

"Two," she murmured, tracing a menacing line with the tip of the whip along Willow's trembling stomach.

On the fifth blow, Buffy began to accelerate, giving Willow no time to count aloud, barely enough time to scream.

On the fifth blow, Buffy began to accelerate, giving Willow no time to count aloud, barely enough time to scream.

The blows came thick and fast, brutal, the bullwhip stinging Willow's already scarred flesh. Her body writhed under the impacts, each new strike eliciting a more guttural, more **** cry. Pain radiated in searing waves, her muscles contracting spasmodically under the ****.

Buffy's eyes were wild. She'd taken so much from her friend that she felt a sadistic pleasure watching Willow's body writhe under the blows, begging for mercy, but Buffy had no desire to show pity.

Buffy breathed in gasps as she raised the cattle whip again, the white knuckles around the handle. Willow's body was now covered in welts, her skin glistening with sweat and tears. The air smelled of salt and iron, her moans barely audible above the crack of leather against flesh.

"Eight," Buffy hissed, the whip striking Willow's ribs diagonally. A strangled cry escaped Willow's throat, her back arching free of the bonds as fresh fire shot up her thigh.

Buffy snapped the whip in her palm, letting the sound resonate like a promise. Willow gasped, her lips trembling, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

She pulled Willow's hair back, kissed her passionately, to which Willow responded with love. They savored each other for so long that Willow gasped when Buffy finally stopped.

"How could you do this to me? I loved you so much. You were the only one, the only one I loved more than any boy." Her anger returned, and the blow that followed reverberated through Willow's entire body.

The bullwhip struck again, this time on the sensitive curve of her stomach, and Willow stiffened, a piercing cry escaping her before she bit her lip to stifle it. Her skin, already mottled with intense redness, burned with each impact, and she felt another wave of heat radiate to her bones.

Now Buffy didn't stop, reveling in Willow's screams and spasms of pain.

The ninth blow landed diagonally on Willow's lower back, the leather biting into the already inflamed skin. A hoarse sound, somewhere between a sob and a gasp, escaped her throat as her fingers gripped the bonds until they paled. Buffy watched, fascinated, the quivering flesh marked with scarlet welts, each of Willow's breaths ragged like a broken mechanism.

Buffy followed with three vicious blows to Willow's breasts.

The first blow struck with cruel precision, the bullwhip hissing before stinging the already bruised flesh. Willow screamed, her torso heaving violently against the bonds, her breasts marked with a fresh scarlet welt. Before she could even catch her breath, the second blow landed, lower, deeper, her reddened skin lifting with the **** of the impact.

The last three blows were so violent that Willow nearly lost consciousness. When Buffy stopped, she hung like a broken doll from her bonds.

Buffy, satisfied, circled her, yanked her hair back, and spat in her face.

"Get ready, this is just the beginning. I have more in store for you. I've learned magic too. I'll get you back on your feet. I could go on forever if I wanted."