The Tiger – Lessons
Spike seethed when he thought of Gen´s betrayal. He could abide her tattling and minor back–stabbing, running off to Angelus as soon as Spike turned his head. As a gift from the big lummox, he´d be a fool to expect her to be loyal. However, when she´d called his bastard of a grandsire and allowed him to man–handle Spike´s property, she´d crossed the line.
Spike was a demon, no matter how many rules and regulations the council tried to impose to hide that fact. Gen was about to find that out the hard way that demons were aggressively possessive. Spike smiled coldly as the door whooshed open. He was looking forward to teaching the android a lesson. Spike was leaning on his desk, facing the door, when Gen sauntered in as if she didn´t have a care in the world; she probably thought she didn´t. Fury washed over Spike but he managed to hold himself in check, barely.
"You wished to see me?" she asked in a bored voice.
"Yeah, Gen, I did." Spike casually thumbed the switch on his desk, locking the door behind her.
Gen heard the click and frowned. "What is going on?"
He launched himself at Gen, railroad spike drawn. He shoved the silver spike through her shoulder, pinning her to the wall. Even as this wound sparked and sizzled, Spike rammed a fist into her chest and pulled it back. The air was redolent with the smells of his singed flesh and melting plastic.
"What the –?" Gen began, her voice unusually thick. Spike stepped back as a small shower of sparks erupted from her chest cavity.
Spike stared at her coldly. "Can´t bloody believe that you thought I´d let this go, Gen." He wished she were human, he´d love to wallow in the stench of her fear. And while she pale, drawn and terrified: it just wasn´t the same. She smelled of ozone and the acrid scent burned his sensitive nose.
"I do–do–do not know what you are talking about–t–t," Gen stuttered.
"Angelus touching my pet, the girl: does that twig any of your circuits?"
Something inside popped and she jerked her head violently to the side. She struggled to turn and face Spike, and once she did, she attempted to justify her actions. "M–ma–master Angelus said he wished to examine what you had purchased. I was unable to–to–to refuse."
Spike reached into her chest and tugged on something. A high pitched whine erupted and her arms jerked and twitched uncontrollably. "Don´t lie to me, Gen. You called him. You let him in here and you let him touch her."
"She´s o–only human," the android protested.
Spike growled and vamped out. "Not about her, you nit. I could care fuck all about her being pawed. It´s about you betraying me for the last fucking time. Give me one reason I shouldn´t scrap you."
"No one will han–handle your correspondence," she said weakly.
"Let it rot." Spike tugged another wire and watched as her head jerked violently to the side again. Once the seizure subsided, he noted with satisfaction that her eyes had lost focus.
"You´ve dam–damaged my optical sen–sen–sensors," she stuttered. Her speech was beginning to slow down to a neutral drone, rather than her usual precise tone.
"Last chance." Spike reached back into her chest cavity and wrapped his fingers around the thickest cable he could find: likely the main power conduit.
Gen was silent for a several long moments. Spike thought he´d might done too much damage to get anything useful out of the thing. Finally, she spoke in a jerky, toneless voice "Master An–angelus trusts m–m–me. I will inform you of his–his activities–s–s–s."
Spike paused, since this was unexpected and something he could use. He shifted back to his human form, pretending to mull over it for a bit before finally replying, "Fine, I´ll accept that. But, Gen, you cross me again and I´ll pull you apart one sensor at a time."
"Understood, S–s–sirrrr," she slurred.
Her fearful, cowed tone was music to his ears. He should have torn into her sooner. "I´ll get you looked at," Spike said, switching her off. If her internal bits hadn´t been starting to catch fire, he´d have left her pinned to the wall for a while. It wasn´t like he´d promised to fix her right away.
He smirked and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. Sticking it into his mouth he leaned toward Gen´s smoldering chest cavity, lighting his smoke. He inhaled deeply, relishing the burn of the smoke filling his dead lungs. He exhaled the thick plume onto the androids inert form.
Being restricted from violence so much here, he´d honestly forgotten. Revenge could be bliss.
Narella was sitting at her desk, viewing the wall screen in her office. She was shrewdly scanning the faces of the slaves as they progressed through this week´s lessons, concentrating on one in particular. Lesson after lesson, she watched his face for signs of disgust or disapproval. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, she was never disappointed.
Humans were so easy to read. With as much training as they were given, they should be able to keep their emotions in check, however so few truly mastered the skill. Of course, she was an expert at reading them too; she had to be in her position.
The lovely dichotomy about this slave, however, was regardless of his imperfect disposition, he exceeded all proficiency expectations. His pleasuring techniques and skills were above reproach.
She turned to her desk vid and dialed the number from memory. It only beeped once before it was answered.
"What?" The tone was terse and angry.
Narella pursed her lips. She wondered why the council insisted on their pleasure slaves having deportment, when they members themselves rarely had proper manners.
"Good evening, Lord Angelus. I trust everything is going well with your new acquisition?"
Angelus smirked and looked off screen briefly before turning his attention back to Narella. "We´re a little tied up at the moment, but otherwise, doing fine."
A grin curled Narella´s lips as well; she could easily imagine the state of his pet. She had personally delivered the gear Angelus had requested prior to accepting delivery of this new toy. "Please, let me know if we can be of further assistance. We would be more than happy to assign you a personal trainer."
"I´ll keep that in mind." He grinned cruelly for a moment. "I´m sure you didn´t call me to chat. What do you want?"
"Yes, well it seems that I´ve found a proper addition to the Halsstarrig. You are still interested in those who are eligible, are you not?"
"Always. What kind of contract are you thinking about?"
"Perhaps a hundred days?" she offered casually.
Angelus raised his eyebrows. "That long? Of course I´m interested."
She pressed a few keys on her console. "I´m sending you his data now."
Narella sat quietly as the vampire perused the file he´d been sent. "He´s perfect. God, look at those hurt–me brown eyes. And he´s a fighter?"
"Of course, I would not select anyone who was not appropriate for your needs," Narella replied coolly.
"And yet you´re calling me. Makes me wonder why?"
Narella tented her fingers, choosing her words carefully. "He holds council sponsorship, which technically makes him ineligible for the Halsstarrig."
"I see." Angelus was quiet for a moment. "Who´s the sponsor?"
"Master Spike."
"Isn´t that interesting?" Angelus smiled coldly, and Narella was quite certain that Master Spike was not on Angelus´ good side at the moment. "I´m sure there are exceptions."
"Yes," she replied cautiously. "In extreme situations, the sponsor can be penalized for contract violations and their pets become forfeit for a punishment period."
"I need someone. Make it happen. I´ll triple your finder´s fee."
Triple finders fee added to the per–use charge on any slave assigned to the Halsstarrig meant unbelievable profits for the pleasure house. "I would need assurances that the slave would be allowed access to a healer full–time. They must be able to service clients once their tour is over."
"Done." The response was firm and swift.
"There is still the matter of the sponsor; Master Spike will have to be found in violation of his contract."
"I´m sure you´ll think of something," Angelus said, waving his hand. Narella could tell he was becoming bored of the conversation. This was unsurprising as she had likely interrupted a training session.
"I fear the possible council repercussions," Narella stated simply.
"You´re protected. Make this happen."
Narella relented. "I will make the necessary arrangements and inform you when he is ready to collect."
She terminated the call and pressed close on the file marked ´SID 564721 – Xander´.
Xander´s eyes opened as soon as the door chimed, he was resting his side on the bunk in his closet. He´d been told to expect someone to deliver a healing potion this evening, and it seemed that they were here. He carefully sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed as the door opened.
But instead of his trainer, Adara, or the usual healer, it was...
"Tara?" he asked, joyfully.
"Hey, you." Tara had a wide grin on her face.
Xander wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. He felt tears well up in his eyes and he blinked them away as he pulled back examining her. "You look good."
"So do you." Her voice was just as thick as his.
Xander ran his fingers through his artfully rumpled hair. "Yeah, thanks."
Tara had the feeling that she was making him uncomfortable. It broke her heart. "I brought your potion."
Xander gestured to his small table. "You can just set it down. I´ll...ah...drink it later."
Tara spoke softly. "Show me."
Xander shook his head. "You don´t need to see. I´m fine."
"Show me."
Xander held her gaze for a few moments and then tightened his jaw and reluctantly turned around. Tara saw the damage to his back. It wasn´t anywhere close to the worst she´d seen, but he had stripes and welts from the back of his neck to his knees.
"It´s not bad," she offered softly.
Xander didn´t say anything.
"Xander, talk to me."
Xander turned around. "There´s nothing to say. It´s my life now."
How many times had they told each other this, or something similar, as comfort? She tried to change the subject. "Do you like it?"
Xander snorted. "Being beaten until I come, yeah, I love it."
"Xander," Tara said in a placating tone.
Xander´s hugged himself tightly and didn´t say anything. He refused to break down in front of her.
"Is there any part of this that you enjoy," she asked gently, setting the glass with his healing potion down on the table.
"I can´t talk about this with you," he said almost too softly for her to hear.
Tara reached out and took his hands. "Xander, I love you: no matter what."
"Do you?" Xander´s eyes were full of anguish.
"Yes. Always." Tara squeezed his hands tightly. "Even if you like things...rough...sometimes. That´s okay."
"How can you be okay with what I´m doing? What he wants me trained to do." The last part was a whisper as Xander looked nervously about, probably because they were being observed.
Tara frowned; something was definitely not right with Xander. Something that went way beyond his current vocation. "What happened between you and Spike?" she asked gently.
Xander shook his head and tried to pull his hands away. Tara held tight. "Tara – I can´t." How could he tell her about the kiss, that he´d foolishly felt something for Spike in that brief moment while their lips touched. Or say to her that he did like some of his training, and for once in his life he was good at something. Learning how to make his partners sigh and moan and writhe with pleasure under his touch was powerful stuff. And he did like the roughness sometimes, when he finally gave in and allowed himself to enjoy it.
Xander held her gaze. He read nothing but love and compassion in her eyes. She really meant it. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. She was safe, well fed and happy. Seeing her like this made things worth it. She´d had it so much rougher than he had with their former owners. God, she´d been strapped down to a table and raped repeatedly in the tents so their previous masters could squeeze a bit more profit from her. It made him ashamed to be so angry about what he was being trained for now.
When he released her, he felt like he could let go some of the bitter anger that had been tearing him up inside for weeks. "You know they feed us three times a day here?"
Some of the tight tension around his eyes and jaw had relaxed as Xander made some kind of peace with himself and Tara let him change the subject. "I know. I can´t believe that myself."
"And I´ve kinda been learning to do this massage thing," Xander admitted almost shyly. "I seem to be pretty good at it."
"That´s great."
"How about you? Are you a full fledged healer yet?"
Tara smiled. "Not quite, but close." She looked at him and said mock–sternly, "Speaking of which, drink up, Mister."
Xander grinned and drained his potion. He barely held back a cough when he finished. "It´s great," he said, handing the glass back to her, but his voice was a little strained because his throat burned.
She shook her head, ruefully. "It´s awful, but it will make you better soon. Turn around."
Xander could already feel the injuries on his back mending. He turned around and let her poke and prod him for a moment. It was familiar; she´d always been there, helping him, trying to soothe his hurts. He relaxed and let finish her examination.
He turned around when she´d finished, and was happy to see her looking pleased with his recovery. "This will be fine in just a few more minutes. I added a few extra herbs into the brew, so you could get some sleep."
"Really?" Xander asked gratefully, he hadn´t had a really good night sleep since he´d come here. "Thanks."
"I want to help you, as much as I can." Tara looked away for a moment before she said softly, "I´m sorry, I have to go. There are others..."
"Yeah, I know." Xander held out his arms and hugged her. "I love you."
"You too," she said earnestly, "I´ll see you soon."
After she left, Xander drowsily settled into his bunk and drifted off into his first dreamless sleep in ages, a small smile on his face.
