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CD2

Page history last edited by PBworks 16 years, 2 months ago


 

PART ELEVEN: Deserve

 

Giles awoke, needing to use the restroom, and gently pushed Wesley off of him. Wesley rolled aside, watched Giles go, and then rolled back to snuggle in the warm spot he'd left behind.

 

Once he'd relieved himself, Giles tossed his clothes back on and began making dinner.

 

Wesley didn't fall back to sleep, but lay awake, listening to the noises from downstairs. His thoughts drifted, to the unexpectedness of his new life, to Faith and Angel, to having gone from being utterly devoted to the Council to... whatever this was. Whatever he'd turned into, looking in the mirror at the mall and seeing some other person entirely. Giving in to the base urges that he'd thought beaten well out of him years ago, and then going far past that. Wanting the certainty of being so deeply controlled, and the caring that came with it. It was strange, all of it, so very alien and unknown, exciting and frightening. And it had all been so fast, like it was what was meant to be. His whole being responded to what Giles was doing to him, and his mind was racing to catch up.

 

Some time later, Giles called for Wesley to come down and have dinner with him. Giles alternated between feeding Wesley and himself.

 

After dinner Wesley went to the bathroom while Giles cleaned up. Wesley knelt by the fireplace while Giles finished.

 

Once he was done, Giles picked up a book he'd been meaning to read for some time and settled in his leather chair. He laid the book aside for a moment and gestured for Wesley to join him. Wesley went over, wondering if Giles was going to have him rest his head on his lap, as they'd done that morning.

 

Giles reached into his pocket and produced the bottle of lube, which he'd grabbed while he was dressing earlier. "Do you still want my cock tonight?" he asked.

 

Wesley's heart sped up a bit. "Please, sir. I do."

 

Giles gave Wesley a speculative look. "Tell me: if you had to choose between having my cock in you and getting to come, which would you pick? Be honest."

 

Wesley bit his lip, worried that this was a trick question. He tried to figure out which answer would please Giles more. Giles had just fucked him last night, perhaps he wanted to again? Or maybe it was for Wesley to prove that his needs didn't matter anymore, and therefore he should never ask to come. Perhaps letting Wesley touch him had been in lieu of letting him come, and this was the way Giles let him know he was being greedy. If he had to be honest with himself, even though he wasn't aroused right now, he still ached to come after two days of being brought so close and then denied again and again. Giles had told him to be honest. He swallowed nervously and said, "To come, sir. If that's what you decide."

 

Giles' eyebrows had crept steadily up as Wesley tried to find an answer. He snorted in amusement when it came. "Yes, I believe that's honest," he said. He really had to find a way to break Wesley of the habit of over-thinking things.

 

"Relax, Wesley," he said, as he began unfastening his trousers. "That's not a choice I'm forcing you to make--yet. In fact, your getting to come is rather dependent on how well you handle my cock."

 

Wesley was simultaneously relieved and anxious--relieved he'd said the right thing, and anxious about his performance. He wanted to please Giles as best he could, but it was hard to believe his best was ever good enough. It never had been before, why should it be now?

 

Giles pushed his trousers and shorts down far enough to free his cock and balls, then slowly stroked himself to hardness, adding lube as he did.

 

"I'm not going to prepare you tonight," he said. "But you'll be able to control the penetration, to some extent."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, quietly. No preparation, and he had to control it himself. He was terrible at taking the lead, and Giles knew that. What if Giles wanted him to fail? What if this was just a test to teach Wesley his place? Wesley would be punished. Giles hadn't really punished him yet, and that meant Wesley didn't know what would be done to him. He clenched his hands behind his back.

 

Giles noticed Wesley's tension, but didn't comment on it yet. Once he felt he was ready, he gestured to Wesley. "Come up here." There was enough room in the chair that Wesley could put his legs on either side of Giles', though it was a tight fit.

 

Wesley climbed onto the chair, awkwardly settling onto Giles' lap.

 

Smiling encouragingly at him, Giles reached out and ran his hands down Wesley's torso. "How does your cock feel? A bit tender?"

 

Wesley nodded. He'd had more friction there in the past 48 hours than probably the last year, so it was little wonder.

 

Giles nodded. "Yes, I've been asking rather a lot of it." He brushed his fingertips over the head of Wesley's cock. "I suspect this will suffice to keep you aroused for me, though, won't it?" he continued, moving his touch to the cock ring.

 

Wesley relaxed a bit as Giles touched him, and seemed to take control again.

 

"Now..." Giles murmured, cupping Wesley's scrotum in his palm and massaging his perineum with his fingertips, "what do you think of the idea of having my cock in you for a good long while? Maybe an hour or two. Does that excite you?"

 

Wesley let out a sigh, relaxing further as Giles made him feel good again. "That long?" he asked, intimidated, but at last his body was showing some interest.

 

"I suppose that depends on how soon I want to come," Giles said thoughtfully, continuing to play with Wesley's balls and perineum. "So the less you squirm, the longer it will last."

 

Wesley nodded again, in acceptance of the challenge before him. Despite the continued stimulation and even the cockring, however, his cock showed no sign of stirring.

 

Giles' hands stilled as he noticed Wesley's lack of response. "Wesley, what's wrong?"

 

Wesley didn't want anything to be wrong, but his body wouldn't let him pretend otherwise. He felt unsettled, anxious, and it was keeping him soft. He cursed himself for already being a disappointment. His chin suddenly trembled as his emotions welled up inside him, against his will.

 

Seeing his distress, Giles raised a hand to Wesley's face. "Talk to me, Wesley," he said softly.

 

Wesley wanted to, wanted to tell Giles everything, but he couldn't find the words. They all seemed to be tangled up inside of him.

 

"A few minutes ago you were eager for this," Giles pointed out. "What changed?"

 

For all the things jumbling around inside him, Wesley was certain of one thing only. He'd been certain of it his whole life. "I'm not good enough," he said, voice barely a whisper past the tightness in his throat.

 

"You most certainly are," Giles said firmly. He ran his hand down Wesley's cheek. "You've exceeded all my expectations, Wesley," he said. "If I push you, it's only because I marvel at how much you can take. It makes me proud."

 

It was impossible. Giles couldn't be proud of him. It had all been happening so fast, it had taken everything Wesley had to keep up. It was only a matter of time before he failed. He always failed. He hadn't even lasted a week in the job his whole life had been dedicated to before he'd failed so badly... He shook his head. "You'll be angry. I'm sorry," he said. "I don't deserve..."

 

For the second time that day, Giles reached out and pulled Wesley into his arms, but this time it was for Wesley's sake. He ignored his cock, which was getting both of them sticky with lube, and held Wesley's head against his shoulder, petting his hair as he had earlier.

 

"It's all right," he murmured.

 

The comfort just made him feel worse, because he should be punished for being a disappointment, not comforted. All the angry words his father had for him were ringing in his head. A sob wrenched itself out of him.

 

"Shh," Giles murmured. "Do you remember the discussion we had yesterday about what you deserve?" He reached down and released the cock ring, then pulled it off and set it aside. Still speaking in a soft, soothing voice, he said, "I'm going to give you what you deserve now. I'm going to let you come."

 

Wesley sniffed. "But..." he began, confused, but Giles hushed him again.

 

"Don't fight it," Giles said. He took Wesley's balls in hand again and kneaded them gently. "You've more than earned this. I simply enjoy seeing you aroused so much I found it hard to stop myself."

 

As quick as it had come, the fear passed out of Wesley again, leaving him shaken and vulnerable. He lay against Giles, hands tangled in his shirt as he clung to him.

 

Giles continued to stimulate Wesley, pleased that the younger man seemed to have less trouble getting hard now. He focused on Wesley's balls and perineum, occasionally brushing the head of Wesley's cock or fingering his arsehole without penetrating. He found himself humming softly without having made a conscious decision to do so.

 

Slowly Wesley was coaxed into arousal, but he felt so emotionally raw that even the pleasure had a keen edge. His chest still felt tight even as he started to rock into Giles' hands.

 

"That's good, Wesley," Giles whispered as Wesley started to move involuntarily. He finally dared to wrap his hand around Wesley's shaft, though he didn't stroke it, just held it below the head and rubbed his thumb around the edge.

 

Wesley gave a soft whimper, then a gasping breath as he shuddered out some of his tension. His cock swelled in Giles' hand, twitching slightly.

 

With his other hand, Giles began caressing Wesley's neck with his fingertips. "You're a good boy," he reiterated. "You've made me proud this weekend. You've earned this."

 

Wesley closed his eyes tight, wanting to believe. "Promise?" he asked, voice small.

 

"Yes," Giles said firmly, kissing Wesley's hair. "I'm the only one who would know, after all."

 

Wesley shivered. He felt dazed, as he always did after an outburst. Empty, too, like he'd let so much out of him there wasn't enough left inside. "Giles?" he asked. "Does this mean... are you not going to fuck me?" The casualness of the word sent another light shiver through him.

 

"Do you want to be fucked?" Giles asked.

 

"Please," Wesley said. "I... I want to feel you. Inside." He wanted Giles to fill the emptiness, so it didn't hurt anymore.

 

"Sit up, then," Giles said, releasing Wesley's cock to guide him with his hands.

 

Wesley did. The air was cool against his front, after being so warm against Giles' body.

 

Giles put more lube on his cock, keeping one hand on Wesley as much as possible, then beckoned Wesley to scoot forward. "Do you understand what you need to do?" he asked.

 

Wesley nodded. "Push down, and relax?"

 

Giles chuckled. "Essentially, yes. Take it slowly so your body has time to adjust. I'll help."

 

Holding on to Wesley to keep him from toppling off, Giles reclined the chair so that he was in a better position for Wesley to reach his cock.

 

Wesley moved into place, feeling the head of Giles' cock press against his arsehole. He felt his anxiety spike again, but Giles' hands were firm on his hips. He took two deep breaths and then eased himself down, opening slowly around the intrusion.

 

Giles used his grip on Wesley's hips to keep him from going too fast, as much as part of him wanted to let Wesley impale himself as quickly as possible. Since Wesley had had no preparation, he was concerned about internal damage. And at this stage making sure Wesley trusted him was more important than gratifying his sadistic urges. That could come later.

 

Wesley's mouth gaped open as he worked his way onto Giles' cock. It was a tight fit, very tight, and he was tender inside from the night before. The lubrication helped, lessening the friction. A third of the way down, Wesley had to pause to take deep breaths, from the exertion as much as the discomfort.

 

"You're doing fine," Giles said, supporting Wesley as much as he could. Wesley's muscles fluttering around him felt heavenly, but he forced himself to be patient.

 

Bolstered by Giles' words, Wesley moved on, pushing Giles' cock deeper inside him. Every inch was a victory, rewarding him with a squeeze of hands on his hips and another urge downwards. At the very end it seemed like something finally gave, and he slid sharply home, fully impaled. He gasped, opening his eyes at last.

 

Giles smiled warmly at Wesley, though the expression was tinged with lust at the feeling of being deep inside Wesley again. "You see?" he said. "You're a very good boy."

 

Wesley nodded faintly, then his muscles squeezed involuntarily and he shuddered and moaned.

 

Giles moaned with him, thrusting his hips up reflexively.

 

"Oh God," Wesley choked, feeling Giles shift deeper inside. It sent off a series of shuddering squeezes as his body tried to push Giles' cock out, but the weight of him and the push of Giles' hips kept it firmly seated.

 

Giles groaned louder, tightening his hands on Wesley's hips as he fought to stay still.

 

Wesley covered Giles' hands with his own, steadying himself as he rode out his body's rebellion. Eventually the shudders eased off as the intrusion was accepted, leaving Wesley pale and sweating, but sheathed like a glove on Giles' cock.

 

Giles took a few deep breaths and let go of Wesley's hips to run his hands over the rest of Wesley's body, trying to distract himself from the insistent throb of his cock.

 

Even though it was still, Wesley's body throbbed, blood rushing through him, propelled by the rapid beating of his heart. His erection had ebbed, but now the touch of Giles' hands and the fullness inside him urged it to fill again.

 

Giles encouraged Wesley's erection with light touches on his cock and balls. "Don't come until I say you may," he instructed.

 

Wesley answered with a nod and a whimper; speech seemed like a distant thing now.

 

Once Wesley was fully erect, Giles began playing with his balls and the head of his cock again, curious to see how long it would take for Wesley to be ready to come.

 

The stimulation was exquisite, when combined with the constant fullness inside of him. Wesley let his head fall back, arching his back slightly so that he was balanced on Giles' hips and his arms hung loose.

 

As his own cock became more insistent in its demands for friction, Giles began rocking his hips slightly, encouraging Wesley to move, while his hands worked Wesley's cock and balls.

 

Wesley swayed and shifted forward, letting his weight rest on his legs so he could ride Giles' thrusts. His cock was hard, and he was making an almost constant stream of soft gasps and whimpers.

 

"Go on," Giles urged quietly. "Fuck yourself. Show me how much you love having my cock in you."

 

Wesley rose up on his thighs, a little at a time, and fell back again. He groaned loudly, panted, and then did it again, and again, each time rising just a bit higher. He did love it, and he wanted to show how much. Wanted Giles to know everything, every sordid desire, because he was the only one who could make them real.

 

"Yes," Giles gasped. "That feels amazing. Don't stop."

 

Wesley didn't stop. He rose higher and higher each time, feeling his insides tugged downwards, as if his body didn't want to let go of Giles' cock. His whimpers and moans grew louder as everything narrowed to the strain of his legs and the thickness moving in and out of him.

 

As Wesley's movement became more dramatic, Giles could only hold on to his cock and balls, letting him stimulate himself externally as well as internally with every thrust.

 

As Wesley rose, he got a jolt of pleasure from the tug of Giles' hands; as he fell, the same grip squeezed and kneaded as he pressed into it. His eyes rolled in his head.

 

Giles began moving in counterpoint to Wesley, thrusting up when Wesley pushed down and moving down when Wesley lifted up again, so that each time he pulled almost all the way, only to push deep back inside.

 

Orgasm began to build up inside Wesley. When it was starting to be too much and he was straining to hold back, he called out Giles' name, alerting him.

 

"Wait," Giles grunted, feeling his own orgasm approach. He thrust into Wesley half a dozen more times, then gasped, "Now! You may come," as he felt the first wave of orgasm surge through him.

 

Wesley cried out as he came, the orgasm so sharp and fierce after days of build-up that it almost hurt. Once it had peaked he went limp, falling against Giles as his body twitched and shuddered. A few minutes of silence passed before he groaned and shifted, sitting up with Giles' softening cock still inside him.

 

"There," Giles murmured as Wesley stirred, pulling him out of his own post-orgasmic stupor, "Was that worth the wait?"

 

Wesley smiled stupidly at Giles, eyes glazed and half-lidded in post-orgasmic stupor. "Mmm," he murmured.

 

Giles laughed softly and laid his head back again, still fuzzy-headed.

 

Wesley squeezed around Giles' cock a few times, making them both groan.

 

Giles sighed after a few more minutes. "We're a mess," he observed.

 

Wesley looked down at the sticky mess between them, and between his legs. "Hm, sticky," he said, too short on working brain cells at the moment to be terribly coherent.

 

"We should wash up," Giles said, but didn't move yet.

 

Wesley rose up, easing Giles' cock out of himself, gasping as it came free. He already felt sore, but too good to care. He felt a wetness on his balls and realized come was dribbling out of him; he put his hand over his arsehole, embarrassed. "Perhaps now?" he asked.

 

"All right," Giles said sleepily. "Go and start the shower running."

 

Wesley hurried to the bathroom. He wiped himself with some toilet paper before starting the shower.

 

A few minutes later, the sound of the shower lured Giles out of his chair. He joined Wesley and shed his clothes quickly.

 

Wesley was glad to finally get under the spray. Sex with another man was far messier than with a woman, especially as Giles wasn't bothering with any sort of protection. Obviously Wesley wasn't likely to get pregnant, and he knew he was very clean, having been fully vetted just before leaving England. At this point it was probably too late to worry about Giles giving him anything--the horses were well out of the barn by now. He would just have to trust that Giles would take care of him, but then he already did.

 

They bathed quickly, and though it was early Giles instructed Wesley to prepare for bed. Once he had done so, Giles took him upstairs and tied him to the bed in what Giles had decided would be Wesley's normal sleeping position, loosely bound and blindfolded. He placed his hand against Wesley's cheek and said quietly, "I've a few things I need to do yet. I'll join you as soon as I'm able."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, softly. He relaxed, still caught in the afterglow. He was full of pleasant feelings and a soreness he knew he'd earned well; they quieted his mind, allowing him to relax and drift, secure in his bindings.


PART TWELVE: School

 

Giles packed up his briefcase, pondering what he was going to do with Wesley. It would be good to have another trained researcher around, and someone who could read languages other than English. He packed a few extra books. Since the research on Balthazar had proved fruitless, he could start Wesley on a new project. He did a bit of paperwork that the school required of him, made a lunch for them to take with them tomorrow, and finally prepared for bed himself.

 

Wesley was half-asleep when Giles climbed into bed. He turned his head to let him know that he was awake.

 

"Go back to sleep," Giles murmured, trailing his fingers lightly down the curve of Wesley's spine before settling in behind him.

 

"Mm," Wesley murmured. He felt warm and safe with Giles against him, and easily drifted off. Giles switched on his alarm and soon followed Wesley into sleep.

 

The next morning started earlier than the others had. After breakfast Giles selected Wesley's outfit, taking his time before finally removing the cuffs and allowing him to dress.

 

Once Wesley was dressed, Giles took a moment to admire him, running his hands down the front of his shirt appreciatively, then cupping his groin in the loose slacks. "Do you remember the rules?" he asked.

 

It took Wesley a moment to remember them, distracted by Giles' touch. "I must keep my hands behind my back whenever idle, and never speak unless spoken to."

 

Giles nodded approvingly. "You're going to work at the center table from now on, where I can see you."

 

Wesley felt somewhat self-conscious in his new outfit, and was still worried about the Slayers and her friends, but he nodded in understanding.

 

"Good," Giles said, in response to Wesley's nod. He gave Wesley's groin a parting squeeze and leaned in to kiss his forehead. "Shall we go?"

 

Wesley followed Giles to the car. He became increasingly anxious the closer they were to the library; by the time they reached the school parking lot he was reluctant to even leave the car. He couldn't believe that the events of the past few days hadn't been written indelibly into his skin, that one look wouldn't reveal everything. Surely they would be suspicious, and then there would be questions he didn't know how to answer, and...

 

When Wesley didn't get out of the car after him, Giles climbed back in. Wesley's anxiety was written all over his face. That would have to be dealt with.

 

"Look at me, Wesley," Giles said, grasping Wesley's chin to enforce the order physically. "You're mine. The only thing I want you to think about today is following my orders and my rules. If you find yourself in a situation where you're not sure what to say or do, do nothing. I'll have my eye on you; wait for me. Is that clear?"

 

Wesley nodded, but didn't feel very reassured. There were too many things that could go wrong, and he'd always been terrible at hiding his feelings. And lurking underneath his discomfort was the fear that once they were back in the real world, this strange fantasy would burst like a soap bubble. Wesley would be out in the cold again, left with nothing at all. He couldn't bear that.

 

He tried to pull himself together. It was only the library, only a group of teenagers, even if two of them did happen to the Slayers. He could do this.

 

Giles could see he wasn't getting through to Wesley. If he couldn't get Wesley to calm down, the consequences could be disastrous, but they were in entirely too public a place to try most of the things he thought might be effective.

 

"Let's go inside," he said, getting out of the car again.

 

Wesley undid his seatbelt and got out of the car, following Giles into the school. His stomach twisted as they stepped inside, and he found himself looking around worriedly to see if anyone was watching him. He started in surprise as he almost collided with a male student, but before he could stutter an apology the student shoved past him, obviously in a hurry.

 

It was early enough that no one was in the library yet, or likely would be for an hour or two. Even so, Giles led Wesley into his office, closed the blinds, and closed and locked the door before he turned to Wesley.

 

"Get on your knees," he said, firmly but not harshly.

 

Wesley only hesitated for a moment, with a quick glance at the door, before obeying. He looked up at Giles with uncertainty.

 

"Good," Giles said, moving closer to Wesley. He cupped his hand around Wesley's jaw and smiled at the way Wesley leaned into the touch. "You made me proud this weekend," he reminded Wesley. "I know you can do the same today."

 

Wesley finally started to relax a little, comforted by Giles' touch and reassurance. It didn't rid him of the anxious knot in his stomach, but it was still soothing. He wanted more, but was afraid to ask for it outright.

 

"You're mine," Giles said again, in a tone that said he expected a response.

 

A shiver of unnamable feeling ran through him, cutting right through the knot. "I'm yours," he said, and it was as if the words magically carried away a chunk of his worries and fears. The relief left behind was palpable.

 

"Yes," Giles said. He moved forward so that Wesley could press his face against Giles' stomach the way he had in the shower on Saturday. "You're mine. That doesn't change when we come here."

 

"I'm yours," Wesley repeated. He sighed in relief and pleasure as he nuzzled his cheek against Giles. This felt right, certain, even--no especially when the rest of the world was a dizzying precipice.

 

"Good," Giles said. He urged Wesley to say it again, and again, and again, as he had before, always responding with praise and encouragement. His hand wandered over Wesley's face, head, and neck, rewarding him with caresses, as well.

 

When they were like this, Wesley could forget about everything else. Forget his fear of failure and embarrassment and let Giles take control, take him over. It quieted the buzzing anxiety in his mind, giving him one thing to focus on above all else: Giles, who was the one who cared for him. The one who would keep him safe, because he valued Wesley, declared he was worth protecting. Wesley would do anything to hold on to that feeling, because it was the closest thing to love he'd ever felt.

 

"Shh," Giles said, once Wesley's words had become a droning, barely-intelligible mumble. "That's enough. You're a good boy." He pressed his thumb to Wesley's lips, offering it to lick.

 

Wesley parted his lips with a grateful whimper. His tongue peeked out to lick tentatively. He leaned forward just enough to take the tip of the thumb into his mouth, then suckled gently at it.

 

Giles closed his eyes and rested his other hand on top of Wesley's head as Wesley's tongue flickered against his finger. As when Wesley had kissed his cock in the clothing store, he felt a deep sense of rightness about this, in direct contradiction to the voice of rationality still whispering ineffectually in the back of his mind this was wrong, inhumane and unethical, not mention illegal. He listened to that voice indifferently for a few seconds, then shut it out again.

 

"Do you think you can work now?" he asked kindly, after a few minutes.

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, calmly. He felt mildly euphoric, caught in some bubble of safety that Giles had created around him.

 

Giles nodded. "All right. Remember, if you feel like you don't know what to do, you should wait for me. And if things get to be too much for you, I want you to come in here, lock the door, and kneel until I can attend to you. Do you understand?"

 

"Yes, sir." Wesley was relieved to have an escape route, that he wouldn't be trapped in a bad situation. He didn't expect to have trouble with work--he never had trouble with work--but people were another matter altogether.

 

"Come on, then," Giles said, guiding Wesley back to his feet. "Let's get you started."

 

Wesley followed Giles out to the library, where he sat down at the main table as instructed.

 

Giles gave Wesley a stack of books in various languages that he hadn't got around to indexing yet, and set him to work on them, then went to deal with the pile of books in the drop box that he'd neglected for the last week.

 

Wesley settled in with his work. He was well-versed in the languages involved, and indexing was an easy task, if a bit rote. He was a quarter of the way through the first book when the doors to the library swung open.

 

"Good morning, Willow," Giles said. He forced himself not to glance at Wesley, much as he wanted to.

 

"Hey Giles," Willow said, cheerily. "Oh, Wesley's back!" She sat down across from him at the table and waved.

 

Wesley glanced at Giles, uncertain, but Giles wasn't looking their way. Since Willow had spoken first, it was only proper for him to respond. "Good morning, Willow," he said.

 

"Hey, nice outfit! Way better than those suits, huh?" Willow started looking through the books on the table.

 

Wesley resisted the urge to slap her hands away from them. "Um, yes," he said. "Much better."

 

"Willow, leave the books alone," Giles said with fond exasperation. "We don't know how Wesley has them organized. Besides, I didn't think you could read French or Greek."

 

Willow grinned sheepishly and pushed the books back into a neat stack. "Sorry, Wesley."

 

"It's all right," Wesley assured her.

 

"So you're feeling better?" Willow asked, turning her attention to Wesley now that she lacked distractions. "Giles said you were kinda upset. I know I'd be upset if I got kidnapped. Well, actually I did get kidnapped, but I still got my homework done, because there was a test the next day."

 

Wesley blinked at her, confused.

 

"You'll get used to it," Willow offered. "After a while, vampires and demons are as familiar as cafeteria food. And about as scary."

 

"Willow, why don't you let Wesley go back to his work?" Giles suggested pleasantly.

 

Willow rolled her eyes and gave Wesley a look that seemed to suggest she thought Giles was being unnecessarily stuffy, but she got up and wandered back over to Giles. "Buffy said she saw you guys at the mall on Saturday. Doing some Watcher-bonding?" She waved her fists in a vague pantomime of being buddy-buddy.

 

Giles waited a beat before responding. "Yes, Willow," he said slowly. "Two intelligent Englishmen wished to bond by visiting the great bastion of American capitalism." Dropping the sarcasm, he added, "Wesley wanted new clothes. I accompanied him."

 

"Did someone say clothes?" Buffy said, striding into the library.

 

Wesley tensed up and tried to look studious. Buffy had caught them off guard before, and he still wasn't sure how much she'd seen.

 

"Willow was just asking about Wesley's and my trip to the mall," Giles informed her.

 

"Oh, yeah," Buffy said. "I was really worried there'd been an apocalypse and nobody told me." She looked at Giles with concern. "You'd tell me, right?"

 

Giles smiled, the creases of his face crinkling with affection. "Yes, Buffy. I'd tell you."

 

Wesley felt a pang of jealousy, seeing Giles smiling at Buffy that way, just as he'd been jealous of their relationship on that first day. When Giles threatened to call the Council, he'd had no choice but to abandon his hopes of being a successful watcher. He's never been all that comfortable in the actual doing of the thing--it was always far more his father's decision than his own--but he couldn't help but feel disappointed in himself. He tried to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that was reminding him that he wasn't good enough, not to be a Watcher or anything else. Giles wanted him, had said it repeatedly. Surely that was enough? He looked down at his work, refusing to think about it any further.

 

Buffy and Willow were soon absorbed in their own discussion, leaving Giles and Wesley to their work. When the bell rang, they dashed out again to go to class.

 

Giles finished with the last few books he needed to process and walked over to Wesley, brushing his fingers against the back of Wesley's neck. "How are you doing?" he asked.

 

Wesley started a bit at the contact, so focused on his work that he hadn't noticed Giles approaching. "Oh! Um, fine. Sir."

 

Giles nodded, his fingertips still dancing lightly over Wesley's neck. "This is a bit tedious, isn't it?" he asked sympathetically.

 

"It's all right. I mean, if you need it, I'll finish all of it," Wesley said, then looked worried. "Not that I'm questioning that you do."

 

Giles laughed softly. "So eager to please. I assure you, Wesley, while I may ask you to do very dull work, I wouldn't have you do anything unnecessary."

 

"Yes, sir." Wesley looked down at the table, vaguely embarrassed.

 

Giles brushed his fingers down the back of Wesley's neck one last time. "I thought you might like a break," Giles said. "Let's go into the office."

 

The suggestion relieved a tension Wesley hadn't even been aware of. He followed Giles into the office, glad to be in private with him again.

 

As soon as the door was safely locked behind them, Giles move in close to Wesley. "Good boy," he said, squeezing Wesley's wrists lightly where they were crossed behind his back. He unfastened Wesley's trousers and pushed them off his hips so that they fell to pool around his ankles.

 

Wesley's heart beat faster in expectation. His genitals were exposed, his shirt not long enough to cover them; it brought back his feelings of being on display, in the mall. He felt his pulse throb as his cock began to fill.

 

"Eager," Giles said approvingly, seeing Wesley's cock begin to harden on its own. He watched it with interest for a few moments, then paced around Wesley, inspecting. He pulled Wesley's buttocks apart but didn't touch his opening, just looked and moved on. "I'm so glad I shaved you," he said, cupping Wesley's balls in his hand as he returned to the front. "I can see everything clearly."

 

Wesley shivered and bit his lip; he wanted to moan aloud but if anyone was in the library they would hear him. The inspection made him feel prized, made him harden that much faster.

 

Giles squeezed Wesley's balls, then released them to run a single fingertip along the underside of Wesley's cock, from base to tip. Satisfied with Wesley's arousal, he glanced thoughtfully around the office, trying to decide how to proceed, since he had no toys with him, and didn't care to make a mess that would need cleaning up. His eyes lit on the armchair in the corner. He pulled it out from the wall. Then, as Wesley's ankles were effectively hobbled by his trousers, Giles helped him to turn and kneel on the seat of the chair, facing backwards.

 

"Bend over," he instructed.

 

Wesley shifted on the seat to better his balance, then leaned forward, hands still in their proper place. There was enough distance between his body and the back of the chair that it kept his cock from brushing against the fabric. He kept bending until his chin came to rest on the chair back.

 

Giles had intended for Wesley to support himself with his arms, and was a bit startled when he didn't. Pleased with Wesley's initiative, he caressed his exposed arse in reward. "Very good."

 

Leaving Wesley in the somewhat awkward position, Giles turned and rummaged through his desk, looking for something that could be used for penetration. With a soft exclamation, he pulled out a round wooden pencil, never sharpened.

 

The chair was high enough for Wesley to hold the position with some comfort, leaving his upper body tilted up at an angle. He couldn't see what Giles was doing, and wondered what he could be looking for here.

 

Giles wiped the pencil on his shirt to make sure there was no loose dirt or rough edges on it, then turned back to Wesley. Something so narrow hardly justified lubrication, and Giles didn't bother with it. He used one hand to hold Wesley's buttocks apart and inserted the pencil slowly, eraser first, knowing that with something so small and hard, he could easily injure Wesley if he wasn't careful.

 

Wesley made a surprised noise as something suddenly pushed into him. He held still and tried to stay open; whatever it was too thin and too hard to be a finger.

 

Giles probed gradually deeper, watching to make sure Wesley gave no sign of pain. When Wesley's gasp indicated he'd found Wesley's prostate, Giles stopped pushing the pencil deeper and started moving it back and forth in tiny thrusts, migrating until he was sure he was hitting Wesley's prostate directly every time.

 

Wesley gasped, then let out a series of increasingly loud whimpers, unable to hold back as spikes of pleasure ran through him.

 

Giles smiled at Wesley's reaction. He varied the timing of the motions a bit so that Wesley couldn't anticipate, couldn't move with them. "You're so responsive," he murmured, running his free hand under Wesley's shirt, now that he didn't need to hold his buttocks anymore. "So beautiful like this."

 

Wesley gave himself over to the moment, so strange and erotic, half-naked and aroused in a public building filled with people. Giles had him fully erect, but he couldn't move in this position, not without upsetting his balance or injuring himself against the hard object inside him. He could only accept everything Giles did to him, but he didn't want to fight it anyway.

 

Giles was so completely absorbed in what he was doing and Wesley's reaction to it that his heart skipped a beat when there was a loud ding from the bell at the front desk. His hands went still immediately.

 

Wesley froze as well. If Giles didn't respond, whoever it was might just go away, and then Giles could keep doing things to him. But if they didn't go away, if they went looking for Giles and tried to peer through the blinds...

 

Giles took a deep breath to steady himself. "Keep this in," he said softly, making a little circle with the pencil and leaving it in Wesley's arse. He adjusted his trousers as best he could to hide his erection, and slipped out the door, trying to open it only as far as necessary but at the same time without seeming furtive.

 

It turned out to be a teacher picking up copies of the novel his class was to study. It took a few minutes to get them all checked out, and then they needed to be taken to the classroom. Feeling at once a bit worried at leaving Wesley alone and pleased at making him wait so long, Giles helped carry the books before finally returning to his office.

 

It seemed to take forever for Giles to return. Until then, Wesley waited anxiously, keeping his arse clenched tight to hold the object inside him as ordered. He could hear the faint sound of conversation from outside the office. Because of the tilt of his body, after a while the object began to slip. He shifted back and forth trying to keep it in, but to no avail. As the door opened he twitched in surprise, and that was the final straw. When it clattered noisily to the floor Wesley recognized the sound--it must be a pencil. He bit his lip worriedly and clenched his fists, hoping Giles wouldn't be too upset with him.

 

Giles paused at the sound of the pencil hitting the floor, the door halfway closed. After a beat, he let the door close and lock behind him, and said pointedly, "Oh, dear."

 

"I'm sorry," Wesley blurted out. "It slipped..."

 

"I'm sure it did," Giles said understandingly. He picked the pencil up and wiped it with a tissue, this time, to clean the worst of the dirt and fecal matter off of it. "Nevertheless, I can hardly let it go without consequences when you fail to carry out a direct order."

 

Wesley closed his eyes and nodded. He didn't like being punished, but he'd earned punishment. It was the only proper response to failure.

 

Giles rubbed Wesley's shoulders soothingly for a moment. "I know you did your best," he assured Wesley. "I'll make this brief."

 

He pushed Wesley's knees as far apart as they would go in the chair, then reached out and struck Wesley's balls sharply with the pencil.

 

Wesley grunted and winced in pain as the pencil hit his sensitive balls--particularly vulnerable without any covering hair and with them already engorged from arousal. The strike left behind a strip of throbbing flesh.

 

Giles waited until Wesley began to relax from the first strike before hitting him again.

 

The second was easier, in that Wesley already knew what to expect and could brace himself for it, but worse in that it set up a chorus of discomfort.

 

Giles struck Wesley's balls three more times, waiting between each strike for the pain of the previous one to fade a bit, so that each was a new and distinct pain.

 

By the fourth strike Wesley's arousal had faded. Even though Giles was punishing him, Wesley was still mentally castigating himself, trying to think of ways he could have kept the pencil in. He could have sat down and held it against his heel, or tried to raise his arse higher, or lower his head. He hated being a disappointment, hated not being good enough.

 

When he was finished, Giles tossed the pencil the trash bin and put his arms around Wesley, gently helping him out of the chair. "There," he said, stroking Wesley's hair to reassure him. "You bore that well."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said quietly. He felt disappointed that he'd ruined things. Even though it had been a small mistake, he knew how even the smallest mistake could have terrible ramifications.

 

Giles could sense that Wesley was going to need some help to recover from the punishment. He sat in the chair Wesley had just vacated and pulled Wesley down into his lap, sliding his hands under Wesley's shirt to rub his back.

 

Wesley's first instinct was to refuse the comfort, because if he'd been bad he didn't deserve anything good, not until he'd earned it. But just as he'd only been able to accept the pleasure and the pain Giles had given him, he had to accept the comfort as well. His balls ached, but he found his attention drawn to the touch of Giles' hand instead, and slowly began to relax.

 

"There," Giles said again. "It's over now. I'm proud of you for accepting it without complaint."

 

Wesley thought it was strange that Giles should have expected him to complain. How else did one bear punishment but quietly? But it wasn't his place to contradict him, and Wesley saw no reason to turn away praise at any rate.

 

Giles continued to hold Wesley and soothe him as best he could. Punishing Wesley had aroused him, if possible, even more than pleasuring Wesley, and getting to see Wesley so vulnerable afterwards wasn't doing anything to discourage him. His cock was hard against Wesley's leg, but he ignored it for the time being.

 

The contact Giles was giving him was good, but Wesley craved more. He craved Giles' touch in general, each contact a gift when he'd had so little of it from anyone before, at least very little that was caring. He leaned closer to Giles tentatively, ready to pull back if Giles was displeased.

 

When Wesley leaned in, Giles encouraged him, pulling him close and holding tight.

 

With Giles holding him so completely, Wesley finally relaxed, snuggling only a little tentatively. Comfort after punishment was something new to him, and he wasn't entirely certain what to do with it. Above all else, however, it was good. He felt grateful for it, especially when he knew that Giles didn't have to give it to him.

 

Giles glanced at the clock, but they still had plenty of time before lunch. As Wesley seemed to be relaxing again, he tentatively let one hand drift down to urge Wesley's cock back to hardness with light touches.

 

"Oh," Wesley said, a little startled. He hadn't expected them to do anything else, but now he was relieved that they were, that he hadn't ruined everything. He didn't hold back as Giles coaxed arousal out of him again; after all that had happened, he felt very open, receptive. The increase in blood flow made his balls ache a bit more sharply.

 

Since Wesley responded so easily, Giles risked a gentle fondle of his balls, to see if he was still in pain.

 

Wesley's soft moans turned into a hiss, but the discomfort was bearable, and didn't diminish his arousal at all.

 

Giles' cock twitched at Wesley's hiss. "That's not so bad, now, is it?" he asked, continuing to fondle Wesley's balls with just enough pressure to draw a reaction.

 

Wesley let out a breathy moan at the combination of discomfort and pleasure. He didn't know whether to move into it or away from it, the sensations were too confused.

 

"Yes," Giles said, as though agreeing with Wesley. "If it hurts a bit, just let it be a reminder that you're mine. I wouldn't punish you if I didn't care."

 

Wesley's experiences told him that there could very easily be punishment without caring, but he was glad Giles didn't feel that way. He already felt addicted to the way Giles touched him, arousing and comforting him, and he didn't want to risk that. He would take any punishment if he could keep that. "I'm yours, sir," Wesley said, a hopeful lilt to the words.

 

Giles nodded solemnly. "Always."

 

That sent a little thrill of pleasure through Wesley. It made his cock twitch, and the discomfort easier to bear. He moved slightly into Giles' hand.

 

Giles made a sound that was almost a purr. "I love it when you're hard for me. In fact," he said thoughtfully, "I think I'd like you to be hard for me as often as possible."

 

Wesley's heart beat faster. "Yes, sir," he said, eagerly. "I'd like that." When he was aroused it made everything else fade away, all his fears and anxieties, leaving only Giles, and what Giles brought out in him.

 

"Good," Giles murmured. "Besides, I think it would help make your work a bit less tedious, hmm?" He smiled warmly at Wesley. "Yes, I want you to stay hard for me for the rest of the day. Do you think you can do that?"

 

"I'll try, sir," Wesley promised. He wasn't sure if he could manage it, but he didn't want to fail a second time.

 

"You sound uncertain," Giles said. "I want you to know you can do it. I know you can do it. It's easy to stay hard if I'm touching you, isn't it?"

 

"Very," Wesley admitted, a tiny smile twitching the corner of his mouth.

 

"Well, I may not be able to have my hands on your cock at every moment, but my clothes are on you at every moment, aren't they? The clothes that I chose for you, to mark you as mine?" Giles tugged Wesley's shirt significantly.

 

Wesley became very aware of the shirt, suddenly feeling all the places it pressed close against his skin, or tugged as he moved. The trousers would be the same, clinging to his arse and brushing his cock and balls without anything in the way. It would be easy to think of them as an extension of Giles' hands on him, holding him as he held him now.

 

"And you're going to be feeling my touch on you every time you move today," Giles reminded him, giving his balls a particularly firm squeeze.

 

"Uhh," Wesley moaned, brow furrowing as his head tilted backwards. "Yes," he breathed.

 

"Yes," Giles agreed. "Every inch of your body, everything that you do, every moment of your time is mine. Even the work that you're doing, tedious though it may be, should be a reminder that you're mine."

 

Wesley wanted that, wanted to be taken over completely. Wanted to forget what he was, the useless failure that he was, and simply be Giles'. "Everything," he echoed.

 

"Mm-hmm. Now... do you think you can stay hard for me all day?" Giles asked.

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, confidently this time.

 

Giles nodded. "That's right." He stroked Wesley's cock a few times, as though to remind him of the feeling, and gently urged him back to his feet.

 

Wesley stood with his hands behind his back, erection jutting out from his body.

 

Giles tugged Wesley's trousers back up and fastened them carefully, then smiled at the obviousness of Wesley's erection underneath them. "Looks as though you'll have to stay at the table," he observed.

 

Wesley looked down at himself. Instead of feeling ashamed of himself, he felt an odd pride, his self-consciousness drowned out by the satisfaction of making Giles happy.

 

"Go back to work now," Giles said kindly. "Just remember: I'm always touching you."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, eager to prove himself, to stay hard for as long as Giles wanted him that way. He opened the door and walked out, hesitating until he saw that the coast was clear, and then walked quickly to the table. He was breathing a little fast when he sat down, and it took him a while to settle down enough to concentrate at all on his work.


PART THIRTEEN: Exposure

 

Giles went back to incidental tasks involved in running the library, leaving the major things for after lunch, when he would have a larger block of time. He kept one eye on Wesley as much a possible, though, watching with pleasure as he shifted in his seat, his arousal giving him both a distraction and a focus. Every once in a while, Giles would wander by and brush a hand against his neck or shoulders to remind Wesley that he was watching.

 

The quick touches made it easier for Wesley to stay hard. It slowed down his work, but the frustration he ought to have felt at that wasn't there. It was far more important that he keep thinking of Giles, keep his cock pressing up against the inside of his trousers. The ache in his balls eased off with time, but when he shifted and squirmed he could still feel the five places the pencil had hit. It was the first time he'd ever had reason to relish a punishment, and because it reminded him of Giles' touch, both the hurt and the comfort afterwards, he did relish it.

 

Some time later, the school bell rang, and students flooded into the halls. Xander was the first one to come through the library doors.

 

"Wesley!" he said with a mixture of surprise and dislike. "I heard you were still here, but I'd hoped it was just a rumor." He tossed his bag onto the table, sending skidding across and almost knocking over Wesley's books, as he flopped into the first chair.

 

"Xander," Giles muttered in a warning tone, but Xander didn't seem to hear him.

 

Wesley started, and watched Xander warily. He shifted his chair closer to the table, not wanting the boy to see his arousal. "Xander," he greeted.

 

Xander looked at Wesley more closely. "Hey, nice duds. You going for the Watchers Quarterly look now?"

 

"No, Giles--" Wesley began, then stopped himself. "I went shopping. Giles showed me your mall."

 

"Mall, huh?" Xander looked at Giles curiously. "So, if Wesley can dress like a normal person, why can't you?"

 

Giles closed his eyes for a moment. "I dress the way I wish to dress," he said with exaggerated patience.

 

Xander shrugged and turned his attention back to Wesley. "Why are you still here? I heard you were ready to turn us all over to some demon."

 

"Xander!" Giles snapped, before Wesley could respond. "Wesley will be able to speed up our research process considerably. Since that's a task you find less than enjoyable, I'd think you'd be grateful for his help."

 

Xander looked abashed, and gave Wesley a reconsidering stare. "Research, huh?"

 

"I'm... helping out," Wesley said, though in truth he wasn't sure what he was doing anymore, outside of the obvious. He tried to think of how he would have responded if things were normal. "Two Watchers for two Slayers," he said, gaze flicking over to Giles. He hoped that wasn't overstepping his bounds, but it seemed like the kind of answer that would satisfy Xander's curiosity.

 

Xander shrugged and rubbed his neck self-consciously. "Yeah, I guess. So where were you while Faith was turning into a psycho killer?" His tone was more curious than accusatory, this time.

 

"Er, well, I..." Wesley didn't know what to say, and looked to Giles for help.

 

"Wesley was trying to convince the Council to restore my status as Watcher," Giles lied. "We had the situation with Faith under control, so I saw no need to bother him with it."

 

Xander's eyes widened. "You're a Watcher-Watcher again?"

 

Giles shook his head. "'The matter is under consideration'," he quoted. "In the meantime, however, Wesley and I have come to an understanding. There shouldn't be any more problems."

 

"Yes," Wesley said, nodding. "I'm sorry for the difficulties my arrival caused. I understand the situation much better now."

 

Xander nodded in acceptance. "Yeah." He glanced at Giles. "Me too. I mean, sorry about..." He waved his hand vaguely at Wesley.

 

"It's in the past," Wesley said. "But thank you." He did appreciate the apology, even if it was partly for a lie. But Wesley did understand the situation now. He had a new purpose, a new life. What happened in those first days... he preferred not to think about it, even if it had resulted in the current situation. He thought about the present instead, about the clothes and how hard he still was, and the memories faded away again.

 

Silence fell for a minute, and then just as Xander was opening his mouth to say something else, the library doors swung open and Buffy and Willow came in again, trailed by Oz. They arrayed themselves around the table with only a brief acknowledgement for Wesley, and Buffy and Willow continued the conversation they were having without pause.

 

Oz, who was closest to Wesley, sniffed twice and turned to look at Wesley curiously, though he said nothing.

 

Wesley met Oz' look, and for a moment he could swear... Oz' eyes flicked downwards and he tilted his head, stopping just short of actually looking under the table. Wesley's heart leapt into his throat as he realized Oz knew he was aroused. How could he know? Then Wesley remembered something from Giles' journals, about a boy who had been infected by a werewolf bite. The entries had failed to mention that the boy was Willow's boyfriend. Oz could smell his arousal, Oz would be around all the time, able to smell everything... he started to panic, and then realized drawing attention to himself would only make everyone else notice him when they seemed otherwise content to ignore his presence. He looked down at his work, not seeing it at all, and concentrated on staying aroused. Giles would have expected this, so Wesley wasn't supposed to worry about it. Perhaps Giles wanted it, a test to see how Wesley would react. He had a sudden image of earlier, sitting on Giles' lap in the office while Giles stroked his cock and gripped his balls, but this time the blinds were open and Oz was watching them. In the present, he breathed in sharply as a spike of arousal ran through him. He swallowed back a moan and picked up a pen, trying to write something, anything, as a cover.

 

Oz raised his eyebrows and shrugged slightly, and turned back to Willow without comment.

 

The four students chattered for a while, until finally Xander made a comment about being hungry, and as a unit they got up and head for the cafeteria, leaving Giles and Wesley alone again.

 

While they'd been talking, Giles had prepared a pot of tea, and now he brought Wesley a cup, along with his part of lunch. Giles sat across from him with his own food.

 

"Oz noticed, didn't he?" Giles asked, once they'd both had a chance to take the edge off their hunger.

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, sipping his tea.

 

Giles nodded. "How did that make you feel?"

 

"Worried," Wesley admitted. "And then..." he trailed off. He set aside his teacup.

 

Giles eyes narrowed with interest. "Yes?"

 

"When I thought about it, I realized you would have known, and... it was, um, exciting," Wesley said, squirming at the difficulty of saying the words aloud. His cock twitched visibly against the fabric of his trousers.

 

Giles nodded and smiled encouragingly at Wesley. "What about it excited you?" he asked quietly, nibbling his sandwich.

 

"That it was on purpose," Wesley said, trying to explain even as he flushed in embarrassment at the explanation. "That you wanted it to happen."

 

Giles' smile widened. "You like it when I show you off, don't you? Like I did at the mall?"

 

"I..." Wesley went to look down at his hands and saw his erection straining against his trousers, clearly outlined. He saw it twitch, and felt it, and couldn't breathe for a moment. "I do," he said, very quietly.

 

Giles nodded. He looked into Wesley's eyes and spoke in a low, droning voice. "I promise, when we have the time, I'll take you somewhere that I can show you off properly. You'll be naked in front of dozens of men, and I'll show them just what a good boy you are. I'll let them touch you, hear how you moan and scream, but you won't come, even if they try to make you, because I've ordered you not to. And then you'll suck their cocks while I fuck your arse. And when I'm done, I'll touch you myself, until you cry and beg to be allowed to come, but I won't let you. I'll make you walk past them all with tears in your eyes and your cock displayed for them to see how completely I own it."

 

As though he'd said nothing of note, Giles picked up his sandwich and took a bite, watching Wesley's reaction with interest.

 

What Giles described was so beyond anything he'd experienced it left Wesley breathless. For a moment he thought he might faint from fright of being so exposed, so used. Yet when he came back to himself, taking a few heaving gulps of air, he found himself even more aroused. He felt a dampness against his cock, and looked down to see a small dark spot over the outline of the head.

 

Giles smirked at Wesley's shocked expression. "Finish your sandwich," he said mildly. "I'll want you to suck me off in a bit."

 

Wesley barely tasted his food, only forcing it down because Giles had ordered him to. His head was spinning, and his body was far more focused on arousal than anything so mundane as digestion.

 

When they had both finished their food, Giles got up and gestured for Wesley to precede him into the office. He took note of the wet patch on Wesley's trousers but waited until the door was closed before reaching out to touch it, massaging the head of Wesley's cock as though by accident.

 

"You really must like the idea of being put on display," he observed.

 

Wesley said nothing, too distracted from speech by Giles' touch.

 

Giles gave the wet spot a final thoughtful rub and took his hand away. "On your knees," he instructed Wesley.

 

Wesley complied; actions were far easier than words when he felt this way. He looked up at Giles with glazed eyes.

 

Giles curled one hand around the back of Wesley's head and passed the other over Wesley's eyes, closing them. "Keep them closed," he said softly.

 

Still cradling Wesley's head with the one hand, Giles quickly unzipped his trousers and freed his half-hard cock. "I want you to imagine something for me, Wesley," he continued, brushing his fingers against Wesley's temple. "I want you to pretend we're on a stage in a small room. It's very intimate, but full of people. Some of them you know, some of them you don't. There's soft music, and some quiet conversations. But when we take the stage, everyone falls silent to watch. You kneel for me, naked, and everyone in the room can see how hard you are, how eager."

 

Wesley let himself fall into the scene. Even through his arousal, something was building in him, something he couldn't quite name at first. He'd been up in front of groups before, for school and work. In such situations, he'd always been able to fall back on knowledge as a shield, because he'd been attached to the idea that if he was right, people couldn't hurt him. They would see he was useful and want him. Of course, in reality it rarely worked that way, but he didn't know any other way to be.

 

"Giles?" he asked. "What if..."

 

Giles paused on the verge of continuing his description. "Hmm?" he asked, touching Wesley's cheek.

 

"What if they don't like me?" Wesley asked, worriedly. He was afraid of being so vulnerable in front of anyone other than Giles, much less a whole roomful of people.

 

Giles smiled to himself and filed Wesley's question away for future reference. To Wesley, he said, "How can they not? You're beautiful, glowing with arousal, back arched proudly as you wait to give me pleasure."

 

"I'm not... beautiful" Wesley trailed off, then bit his lip. It wasn't his place to contradict Giles.

 

"Yes, you are," Giles said firmly, caressing Wesley's cheek. "Especially when you're aroused."

 

Wesley wanted to believe it. He could almost believe it, when Giles said it. He leaned into Giles' hand, eyes still firmly closed.

 

"They're all watching you now," Giles repeated, "admiring you. You're shaved clean, the way I like you. I tell you to hold your arse cheeks apart so they can see everything."

 

Wesley made a noise more of a sob than a moan. He wanted to cling to Giles, to hide behind him to escape the very thing that Giles was describing. But he held still, because he wanted to be good even more than he wanted to be protected.

 

Giles paused again and ran his fingers through Wesley's hair. After a moment's hesitation, he bent down and opened Wesley's trousers, letting them fall to his knees, then guided his hands to his buttocks, making him hold them the way he described. "That's a good boy," he whispered as he straightened back up. "Just like that."

 

Wesley trembled as he held himself open, nerves jittering with emotion. If he couldn't physically cling to Giles, he could at least cling to his words. As long as Giles kept saying he was good, he could do what he was told to do.

 

Giles' hands returned to Wesley's head, one supporting, the other caressing. "I wait a moment to let them see what they can't have," Giles said, continuing the narrative for Wesley, and then I approach you. You open your mouth for me without being told." Giles again guided Wesley to do as he described.

 

Wesley's lips parted, and there was a pause before he opened wider. He tried to remember if the blinds were still closed, the door securely locked, but he wasn't certain. A small whimper escaped his throat as he imagined someone actually walking in on them like this.

 

Giles eased the head of his cock into Wesley's mouth. "Show me how much you like to please me," he murmured. "Show them all how much you like to please me."

 

At first Wesley was too overwhelmed to do anything at all, just held still with Giles' cock in his mouth. After a minute, he closed his lips tightly around the head and began to suckle gently, almost more to comfort himself than to pleasure Giles.

 

Giles sighed with pleasure and petted Wesley's hair. "Yes, that's it," he whispered.

 

Encouraged, Wesley leaned forward, sliding the cock deeper into his mouth. He swallowed around it, clearing some of the spit from his mouth, and in the course of doing so rubbed his tongue on the underside of the shaft.

 

Giles moaned softly and said, "Good. I want everyone to see how you worship my cock."

 

Wesley took rapid, deep breaths through his nose, and with a final whimper gave himself over to Giles' fantasy. His mind switched off as he began to enthusiastically suck Giles' cock, letting it hit the back of his throat as he slid himself back and forth on it. Even the trembles ceased in his hands, holding his arse cheeks apart as he devoted himself to his task.

 

As Wesley sucked his cock, without skill but with a great deal of fervor, Giles continued his monologue in an increasingly lusty voice. "So good, Wesley. To have all these people see how utterly devoted you are to my pleasure--it makes me feel like a king."

 

Wesley was devoted to Giles. Giles owned all of him, would do whatever he pleased with him. Wesley moaned around Giles' cock.

 

Giles echoed Wesley's moan and fought the urge to start fucking Wesley's mouth. He wanted Wesley to finish it on his own this time. "Harder," he encouraged.

 

Wesley sucked harder, rubbing his tongue against the head. He pushed the tip into the foreskin, almost accidentally at first, and then intentionally when Giles responded well to it. His cheeks were strongly hollowed.

 

Giles closed his own eyes and let his hand wander over Wesley's head. He feared that, as good as it felt, what Wesley was doing wasn't going to be quite enough, but eventually his breath grew ragged and he gasped, "Close!" in warning.

 

Wesley took a deep breath through his nose at the warning. He slid himself almost all the way off Giles' cock, and then slowly pushed himself back onto it, laving it with his tongue as it moved deeper, and then gave a long, low moan.

 

At first the change in pace threw Giles off, but as the vibrations from Wesley's moan hit his cock, he grunted and came, holding on to Wesley to keep his balance.

 

Come flooded Wesley's mouth, but he managed to swallow most of it before he needed to breathe again. He felt a glow of achievement.

 

Giles held on to Wesley until his legs felt steady again, then straightened up. "Very good, Wesley," he praised, stroking Wesley's cheek. "You may open your eyes now."

 

Wesley did, blinking a few times as his eyes readjusted to the light. He licked his lips, which felt swollen and tender, and looked up at Giles.

 

Giles smiled down at him affectionately and reached out to help him back to his feet. He pulled Wesley's trousers back up, giving his cock and balls a quick caress in passing.

 

"My exhibitionist," he murmured fondly, kissing Wesley on the cheek.

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, blushing at the admission and the kiss. The kiss meant he'd done especially well.

 

"I really am looking forward to the opportunity to show you off," Giles said. "But for now, it's back to work for both of us."

 

He sent Wesley back to the table with a parting caress of his arse and settled at his desk to do some reading.

 

It was even more difficult for Wesley to concentrate on work now. He found himself drifting off into daydreams: a jumble of memories of what they'd done together, and the things Giles promised they would do. He felt the ghost of his own hands holding himself open, tasted the traces of Giles' come in his mouth, and if he shifted the right way he could even feel the still-sensitive places on his balls from his punishment. Every so often he would shake himself out of his erotic thoughts and manage a page or so of work, but inevitably he would drift off again.

 

Giles kept one eye on Wesley throughout the afternoon. Eventually he knew he would have to teach Wesley the discipline to work while aroused, but for now he was pleased to see Wesley struggling to stay focused. It meant Wesley's thoughts were exactly where he wanted them to be.

 

Mostly he let Wesley be, seeing no reason to interfere in something that was working. A few times, though, he couldn't resist stopping to touch Wesley and whisper in his ear, things like, "Can you still taste me?" or, "Is your cock wet for me?" Wesley's reaction never disappointed him.

 

As pleased as he was to have discovered Wesley's exhibitionism and be able to take advantage of it, he knew Oz's awareness could be a problem. He wondered if the young man could smell him on Wesley. It might be best to have a preemptive conversation with him to keep him from sharing whatever he observed, but the question was what to tell him. For now, Giles decided, he'd keep an eye on the situation. If it seemed intervention was necessary, he'd worry about how to handle it then.

 

Eventually, even with the reminders he was given, Wesley found himself beginning to calm down. He was still aroused, but it was less all-consuming. It allowed him to concentrate more on his work, but he didn't try to force himself to either task. Instead he allowed the arousal to be a pleasant, continual hum throughout his body, keeping him mildly buzzing with endorphins.

 

As three o'clock and the end of the school day approached, Giles sat next to Wesley at the table, reaching under and surreptitiously rubbing Wesley's cock with his open palm. "Buffy will be here for training soon," he said. "You're not really in any state to help, are you?"

 

It took Wesley a moment to find speech. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir."

 

"No need to apologize," Giles said. "I suppose I'll have to permit you some relief so you can assist me, in the future."

 

Realization trickled in. "You want me to help?" he asked, surprised.

 

"Since you're here, you may as well," Giles said. "What you told Xander was fairly sensible: two Watchers for two Slayers. Faith is still with Angel for the moment, but I expect she'll be able to rejoin us within a week or two."

 

"But I thought... I mean, I didn't think... after what you said, when you made me..." Wesley trailed off.

 

Giles cast his mind back. "I believe I said I'd allow you to work with me, if you made a favorable impression. Which you've certainly done."

 

"Oh," Wesley said. Even though he was pleased with the opportunity to fulfill at least part of his life's ambition, it felt sullied to only be given the chance through such prurient methods. A part of him had been relieved to fail so completely, and was reluctant to take this second chance. If he'd been so bad at the job, why involve him at all? "Are you sure?" he asked, uncertain.

 

"As long as you show yourself capable of behaving appropriately, I see no reason why not," Giles said. "I'd be a fool to waste your training."

 

"Of course," Wesley said. It was only sensible. It was absurd for him to not do the thing he'd spent his entire life in preparation for.

 

"Honestly, Wesley, you're not without useful skills," Giles said, touching Wesley's hand gently. "You simply needed to learn your place. Now you're mine, and I'll decide how your skills can help us. That's for the best."

 

Wesley had his doubts, but there was nothing to do but acquiesce. He just hoped that Giles didn't come to regret the decision.

 

Giles glanced at his watch and cursed softly. "Not today, though, I'm afraid. Come on, before Buffy comes back." He got up and headed for the office.

 

Wesley quickly tidied up his work--what little he'd done of it today--and followed after him.

 

Once Wesley had put his things on Giles' desk, Giles pulled him close and massaged his still-hard cock through his trousers. "Have you enjoyed being hard for me?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. "Do you ache to come yet? I'm not going to allow it, of course."

 

Wesley had ached rather desperately several times today, but he'd been able to control himself each time. There was something addictive about being aroused so long, though. It made him glad he wasn't going to come yet, because then the lovely feelings would end... well, until the next time, at least. It was becoming a new instinct, to fight off his orgasm instead of rushing towards it. "Yes, sir," he said. "Thank you, sir."

 

A slow smile spread over Giles' face. Having Wesley thank him for these things made him light-headed with pleasure. "You're welcome," he purred. He raised a hand to Wesley's face, touching him almost reverently, and looked into his eyes. "Would you like to stay like this all week? Keep your cock hard to show me your obedience?"

 

Wesley was intimidated by the offer. A few hours was one thing, but all week? What if he went soft? What if he couldn't hold back and came? "I don't know if I could."

 

"Well, we'll try it and see," Giles said. "Right now all you have to do is make it through the next hour or so, while I work with Buffy." As he finished speaking, Giles dropped Wesley's trousers again. "You can start by kneeling for me, over here." He indicated the corner that had been occupied by the armchair, which was still in the middle of the floor.

 

Wesley shuffled over to the corner, trousers around his ankles, and kneeled as instructed.

 

Giles adjusted Wesley's positioning a bit, then made him spread his knees as far as he could and lean forward to press his forehead to the wall. The spot where his head touched the wall was almost immediately uncomfortable, and to make it better he had to lift his arse up, which in turn sparked a burn in his inner thigh muscles. Finally, Giles made Wesley hold his arse cheeks open as he'd done earlier.

 

"You're going to stay just like this for me while I work with Buffy," Giles murmured in Wesley's ear, crouching next to him and stroking his back lightly. "I'll have to go as soon as she arrives, and when I come back I expect you not to have moved an inch, you understand?"

 

"How long?" Wesley asked, anxiously.

 

"About an hour," Giles responded. "It will be tiring, but I know you can do it." His hand continued to rub Wesley's back soothingly. "Just imagine you're on that stage, displayed like a work of art."

 

Wesley's imagination supplied something that was a cross between Giles' stage description earlier, and those spray-painted street performers who posed as statues. "All right," he said. If they could do that, he could do this. He relaxed into the position, preparing himself to hold it until Giles returned.

 

Giles stayed with Wesley, touching him gently, until the library doors banged open a few minutes later and Buffy called out for Giles.

 

"You'll be fine," Giles breathed, barely audible, as he rose. Then he was gone, leaving Wesley alone.

 

Wesley immediately felt the loss. It was harder to hold the position without Giles there, giving him comforting touches, supporting him with his presence. He reminded himself that Giles was right outside the door. Giles wanted him to stay this way, exposed to anyone who walked in. Wesley clenched involuntarily and spread his cheeks a little bit wider.

 

Though Giles remained acutely aware of Wesley's presence in his office, he was relieved to find that he could work with Buffy as if nothing unusual was going on. They went through their usual routine, and Buffy headed home none with wiser. Giles waited a few minutes to be sure she wouldn't come back for anything before returning to his office.

 

By the time the hour was up, Wesley was trembling with the effort of holding still. A thin sheen of sweat had formed on his skin, and his muscles ached from exertion. But he was still exactly the way Giles had left him. He started slightly when the door to the office opened, but didn't slip.

 

Giles crouched by Wesley as he had before and looked him over with admiration, but didn't give him permission to get up yet. "You see?" he said. "I told you you could do it."

 

After beat, he reached out to grasp Wesley's still-erect cock and began to stroke it with a loose grip.

 

Wesley whimpered softly; the additional stimulation made his position more difficult to hold.

 

With his other hand, Giles fingered Wesley's arsehole without penetrating. "Just a little longer," he said, when Wesley's trembling worsened as he fought to hold the position despite his increasing arousal.

 

Wesley's palms were slippery with sweat, but he found himself pulling his cheeks as wide as he could. As much as he was capable of thought, he hoped that if he offered himself more fully to Giles he would be merciful.

 

Taking Wesley's response as an invitation, Giles pushed his finger in, just to the first joint, and circled it around, pulling at Wesley's anal ring. It was still somewhat stretched from the penetration over the weekend. He clucked his tongue softly. "I'll have to refrain from fucking you for a while," he observed. "I want to keep you nice and tight."

 

A frustrated groan escaped Wesley's clenched teeth. He wasn't going to be able to hold the position much longer, no matter how hard he tried.

 

"If it helps," Giles said, seeing that Wesley was having trouble, "you may beg. Quietly--wouldn't want anyone to hear."

 

"Please," Wesley begged, the words bursting out, but still quietly. "Please, I can't--"

 

"Go on," Giles said calmly, rubbing Wesley's frenulum maddeningly with his thumb. "Tell me."

 

The trembling was unbearable now, worse with every touch. "I can't hold--" he said, then broke off with a tight inhalation.

 

"All right," Giles murmured. He took his finger from Wesley's arse and pulled Wesley away from the wall so that he fell back against Giles.

 

Wesley immediately went limp. He lay against Giles, breathing heavily, feeling every strained muscle cry out in relief.

 

Giles let Wesley lie against him, running his free hand over Wesley's hair while his other hand continued to tease Wesley's cock and balls. "You did very well," he assured the younger man.

 

As Wesley calmed down, he felt relieved, then proud that he could succeed at the challenge, especially when he'd failed earlier with the pencil. The teasing touches felt more like a reward than any sort of torment. "Thank you, sir."


PART FOURTEEN: Claimed

 

They sat like that until Wesley's trembling passed and his breathing returned to normal, Giles never letting up on the stimulation. Finally, he said, "Shall we continue this at home?"

 

As reluctant as Wesley was to stop, he had to admit he would prefer to be at Giles' flat. He rolled off of Giles and staggered to his feet, muscles feeling rather like overcooked noodles.

 

Giles pulled Wesley's trousers up one last time and packed his briefcase. They went out the back door of the library to avoid running into anyone who might be left in the halls.

 

When they reached the flat, the moment Giles finished locking the door Wesley began to strip.

Giles took note of Wesley's initiative, but didn't comment on it yet. He put his briefcase by the desk and went into the kitchen to begin making dinner. It was nearly 5 o'clock, and he was getting hungry.

 

Though Wesley was tired, and would have preferred to lie down on the couch or upstairs in bed, as Giles hadn't given him any other orders he went and kneeled at the center of the living room. He sat on his heels, hands behind his back and erection arching from his body. He was faintly amazed at still being erect, but Giles had stimulated him quite thoroughly.

 

Giles decided on some simple finger food that they could eat in bed. He wanted to lie with Wesley for a few hours. Wesley had certainly earned the rest, as much as Giles had put him through in one day.

 

"Wesley," he called. "If you need to use the loo, I suggest you do it now. I'd rather not have to interrupt things until we're ready for bed."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, then went to do just that. When he finished, he remembered something that Giles had told him. He resumed his place and called out, "Could I have a glass of water, please?"

 

Giles immediately granted Wesley's request, thinking that he should be more careful to see Wesley got enough fluids. He couldn't remember Wesley drinking anything other than the tea at lunch.

 

Wesley drank down the full glass, almost in one go. He hadn't realized how thirsty he'd become until he'd had some time to cool down. He held the empty glass up for Giles to take. "Perhaps some more?"

 

Giles chuckled and got him another glass. "You're going to need to go later, after all."

 

"Sorry," Wesley said. "I'm rather thirsty."

 

"It's fine," Giles assured him. "I want you healthy."

 

Wesley finished off his second glass. He felt a bit sloshy, but no longer parched.

 

Giles took the glass back to the kitchen and finished preparing their food, an assortment of fruits and vegetables, bread, meat, and cheese. He used the bathroom, himself, then carried the tray and more water upstairs, gesturing for Wesley to come with him as he passed.

 

Wesley followed dutifully along, glad to be going upstairs. Giles' bed was his favorite place now.

 

Upstairs, Giles set the tray aside for the time being and turned to Wesley. The first thing he did was gather the cuffs and fasten them on Wesley's limbs, taking his time with each one. He didn't tie Wesley, but had him lie on his back and knelt over him, then spent a few minutes playing with Wesley's cock and balls some more, until he was writhing and moaning with pleasure.

 

Wesley decided this was much better than the floor of Giles' office. He looked up at Giles with hazy gratitude.

 

When he finally tired of making Wesley squirm, Giles fastened the cock ring on and sat back to get the full picture.

 

"Something's missing," he mused, after a moment. Wesley's wrists, ankles and cock were all encircled by bands of dark leather. Giles reached out and wrapped his hand gently around Wesley's neck, which was looking very bare in comparison. "You need a collar," he murmured. "Every good pet should wear one, don't you think?"

 

Wesley couldn't respond at first, too caught up in the feeling of Giles' hand around his throat, at the subservience in being a pet with a collar to prove he was owned. "Oh, God," he whispered.

 

"Soon," Giles promised. "This weekend, perhaps. I think another shopping trip is in order."

 

He gave Wesley's throat a squeeze, just hard enough to threaten his breathing for a moment, then let go. He moved to sit against the headboard and had Wesley sit between his legs, leaning back against him.

 

Wesley settled against Giles. It was moments like this that he wanted to pinch himself to make sure this wasn't all some fantastic hallucination. Even the cock ring felt right and natural on his body, relieving the tension he'd felt all day in maintaining his erection. It heightened his desire for Giles to do more to him, because it had all been so good, even the things he'd been afraid of.

 

Giles pulled the tray of food into easy reach and made Wesley lean his head back against his shoulder, baring his throat and making it natural to let his mouth fall open. Giles picked up a bit of cheese and deposited it in Wesley's mouth, while his other hand massaged Wesley's balls ever-so-gently.

 

Wesley moaned around the food, chewing slowly as he luxuriated in the feeling of the massage. His cock was flush against his stomach, but he felt in no particular hurry about the matter. He swallowed and opened his mouth for another piece of food.

 

Giles fed Wesley several bites, then gave him a drink of water, then stopped to eat a bit himself and give Wesley a rest from the stimulation. He repeated the process a few times, until finally there was no food left.

 

Wesley felt contentedly full and aroused, safe in Giles' arms. He snuggled against him happily.

 

Giles smiled and kissed Wesley's temple, equally content and more relaxed than he had been in... possibly years. He moved his hand down from Wesley's balls, sliding it between his legs and teasing Wesley's entrance with one finger as he'd done earlier. He brought the other hand back to Wesley's mouth and let Wesley suck on the corresponding finger of that hand.

 

Wesley took Giles' finger deep into his mouth, suckling on it as he had Giles' cock. He shifted so Giles' other hand had better access to his entrance.

 

Giles probed deeper into Wesley's arse, seeking his prostate. The feeling of having Wesley so pliant, so utterly open to his will, was dizzying. His cock throbbed and strained against his trousers. He felt as randy as a teenager. He fingered Wesley's prostate and had to bite back a moan and the way Wesley squirmed against him in response.

 

The shocks of pleasure were delicious, and gave Wesley's arousal an edge it had lacked. He shifted again, trying to take more of Giles' finger into himself.

 

"My God, you're amazing," Giles breathed. "I couldn't imagine a better pet." He immediately felt self-conscious for gushing, but didn't try to take the words back.

 

Wesley's heart skipped a beat, and he twisted to look up at Giles with adoration. It was the most wonderful thing anyone had ever said to him. He couldn't speak with Giles' finger in his mouth, so he showed his appreciation by hollowing his cheeks around it.

 

Giles thrust his hips against Wesley. Suddenly he couldn't stand to wait any longer. He pulled both his fingers free and quickly flipped them over so that he was kneeling over Wesley again, staring down at him with eyes full of lust.

 

Wesley was lost in Giles' eyes, couldn't tear himself away from them even if he wanted to. And he didn't want to, he never wanted to. "Make me yours," Wesley said, hoarsely. "Make me yours forever. What you do to me, I... I want more, please, give me more!"

 

"God, yes," Giles growled. Impulsively, he bent his head and bit the base of Wesley's throat, hard enough to make Wesley arch and cry out in pain.

 

As the shock wore off, the bite mark began to throb in time with his pulse. Wesley spread his arms out on the bed, showing his utter surrender. It was obscene and wrong and exquisitely right. "Again, please," he begged.

 

Giles pinned Wesley's arms and bent his head again, moving more slowly this time. He sank his teeth into the soft flesh under Wesley jaw and held on for several long moments, tugging back slightly in pantomime of tearing Wesley's throat out. When he finally let go, his teeth left deep impressions.

 

As Giles bit him, it sent a rush of adrenaline through Wesley's system. His trust in Giles kept him perfectly still as teeth dug into one of the most sensitive, vital parts of his body, and claimed it.

 

Giles laved the bite marks briefly with his tongue to soothe the pain. When he looked at Wesley's face he couldn't believe the intensity of want he saw there. Unable to look away, he fumbled his trousers open and grabbed his cock, jerking himself off as hard as he could.

 

"You're--God, I--make me feel--" he grunted nonsensically, driven beyond coherent speech.

 

"Again," Wesley begged, wanting Giles to mark him further, claim more of him. He wanted it more than anything else in the world, because it meant Giles would keep looking at him like he was an amazing, wonderful, prized possession.

 

Giles tangled his free hand in Wesley's hair, wrenching his head back to expose the marks on his throat. "Mine," he snarled, still wanking fiercely.

 

Wesley cried out, glorying in Giles' animalistic behavior. It called to him on a deep level, brought out his own equally instinctive reaction. He moved with the pull on his hair, baring his neck for his master and making soft whimpering noises, submissive and beckoning.

 

It took Giles a remarkably short time to come, his semen shooting onto Wesley's chest and stomach. He released Wesley's head as he slumped down on his elbows, panting, to recover. As he pulled himself back together, he lifted himself up enough to gaze down at Wesley adoringly again for a few seconds. He felt like his brain had turned to mush. "Don't move," he whispered, after nearly a minute, and moved down to lazily lick his semen from Wesley's skin.

 

The rasp of Giles' tongue on his skin reminded Wesley of a cat's. He felt a glow of contentedness as each lick claimed him again, and again, and again. If anyone smelled him now, they would know he was Giles', without any doubt. Giles paused his licks to bite one of his nipples, making Wesley yelp. The nipple throbbed in time with the bites on his throat.

 

When Wesley was--well, not clean precisely, but at least free from any semen that Giles could see with his naked eye--Giles pushed him over onto his side and spooned behind him. He hadn't even bothered to tuck himself back into his trousers, just let his soft cock nestle between Wesley's arse cheeks. One arm wrapped tightly around Wesley, just under his shoulders. The other reached down to his groin. Giles snapped the cock ring off and replaced it with his own hand, gripping Wesley tightly. He let out a deep, contented sigh, and soon drifted into a light doze.

 

Even though Giles slept, Wesley was wide, wide awake, wallowing in the completeness he felt. The only way it could have been better was if he'd been bound further, marked and held in as many ways as Giles could imagine. But he knew that would happen now. Everything was clear as glass, and there was no more confusion or doubt, because he had found his home at last. And he would give Giles everything he had, everything and more. His body, his mind, his very soul, as long as Giles kept him wholly.

 

After an hour or so, Giles stirred. He groaned faintly, then sighed and kissed the back of Wesley's neck. "My boy. My toy," he murmured, not entirely aware of what he was saying.

 

"Always," Wesley whispered. "Please, always,"

 

Becoming more alert, Giles squeezed Wesley's cock and gave it a few light strokes. "Won't give you up. Such a good boy. Still hard for me."

 

"Yes," Wesley said, louder this time. "Always yours, please."

 

"Mmm," Giles agreed. He moved his hand against Wesley's chest and noticed that Wesley's skin was still somewhat sticky. "Oh." He chuckled softly. "I think a shower is in order."

 

"I don't mind," Wesley said, dreamily. Giles' come was like the bites, another way he marked Wesley as his property. He was more than glad to wear any mark Giles gave him, even the ones that were messy.

 

"Hmm," Giles said. "Perhaps that is overkill. I'd much rather keep you here." He moved away from Wesley and rolled him onto his back. With a quick kiss to Wesley's forehead, he began securing Wesley's cuffs to the bed, pulling his limbs taut and wide apart.

 

Wesley tested his bindings and found them to be good: strong and tight. He smiled up at Giles beatifically.

 

Giles chuckled at Wesley's expression. He slipped the blindfold over his eyes and murmured, "I'll be right back."

 

He climbed off the bed and headed down to the bathroom. In what was quickly becoming a familiar ritual, he gathered a bowl of warm water, soap, a glass of ice water, and a flannel, though he left the shaving supplies this time. Before he returned upstairs, he paused to search for anything that he could use to torment Wesley. His eyes lit on an elastic bandage tucked in the back of a drawer, left from some occasion when one of the children had sprained a wrist. It would be a bit awkward, but he could make use of it.

 

Wesley listened to Giles leave and return with anticipation. Giles had called him his pet, the best he could ask for. The words filled him up in a way nothing ever had.

 

Giles sat on the bed next to Wesley and wet the flannel, then lathered it thoroughly. Caring for Wesley like this fed something in him that he couldn't explain, and he relished every moment, every sensation: the gentle heat of the water, the texture of the cloth, the smell of the soap. Wesley's reaction when the flannel caressed his skin was best of all.

 

To Wesley it wasn't just Giles cleaning him. Each stroke was a caress, petting him, rewarding him. Secure in the knowledge that he was completely held, and that Giles liked him to be expressive, he squirmed happily.

 

Giles cleaned Wesley thoroughly, and then, because they both were enjoying it so much, continued to rub him with the cloth until the water turned tepid. Only then did he set the bowl aside and pick up the bandage he'd brought up with him.

 

A quick inspection revealed that it was wide enough to cover more than half the length of Wesley's erect cock. Giles started it at the base of Wesley's cock and wrapped it twice, leaving only the head of Wesley's cock exposed, then wrapped it twice more going back down, making it as snug as he could.

 

"Oh," Wesley moaned. His pulse throbbed against the constriction, making him squirm with more need than contentment.

 

Giles smiled and shushed Wesley gently. He folded the bandage lengthwise and gave it another tight turn around the base of Wesley's cock and balls, like a cock ring. When he brought it around to Wesley's balls again, he wrapped his scrotum so that his testicles were trapped at the bottom, the skin stretched tight across them. Once that was arranged to his satisfaction, Giles wrapped the last bit of the bandage around the whole affair, binding Wesley's cock and balls together, with the vulnerable bits still exposed.

 

The pressure and constraint now were intense, making Wesley close his eyes tightly beneath the blindfold. His mouth gaped as he relished this new binding, the encasement making the throbbing spread throughout his genitals.

 

"How does that feel?" Giles asked, massaging Wesley's trapped testicles with his fingertips.

 

"Oh God," Wesley moaned. He didn't know if the additional pressure made it better or worse, or if better and worse had become the same thing: a wonderful, terrible ache. "More," he begged, and whimpered at the promise of it.

 

Giles smiled cruelly. "More what, Wesley? What do you want?"

 

"I don't know. Everything," Wesley moaned. He was desperate, greedy for more, even if he couldn't name it. "Please."

 

"Be specific," Giles urged. "I can't give it to you if I don't know what it is."

 

Wesley blurted out the first thing that crossed his mind. "Tighter. Hold me tighter."

 

"Like this?" Giles asked, squeezing his fist around Wesley's already constricted testicles.

 

Wesley cried out in pain and pleasure. There were tears in his eyes under the blindfold, but he stuttered out, "Y-yes!"

 

Giles didn't let go yet. "This is what you want?" he asked. "You want me to hurt you?"

 

Wesley shook his head. "It feels... it feels..." He was lost, and couldn't find the words to describe how he felt. The intensity made his teeth ache.

 

"Do you want me to stop?" Giles' tone was more curious than concerned.

 

Wesley shook his head again.

 

Giles tsked. "If you can't admit that you want it, I'll have to stop," he said.

 

Wesley whimpered, distraught. "Please," he begged. "Please, I want... Don't stop, please!"

 

Giles brushed Wesley's hair back from his forehead gently. "All right. I believe you." He could see that Wesley was struggling to handle such intense sensation, though, and let up a bit, just enough to brush his thumb back and forth across the sensitive flesh.

 

Wesley sobbed in relief. Any slight disappointment he felt when the pressure lessened was offset by the rubbing that followed, tilting the sensations towards pleasure again.

 

Giles gradually relaxed his grip, until he was massaging Wesley's balls lightly again. He plucked an ice cube out of the glass he'd brought up and pressed it to the head of Wesley's cock, just as he finally stopped touching Wesley's balls at all.

 

Wesley arched off the bed, crying out as the cold hit his skin. He strained against his bonds, trying fruitlessly to escape it, then collapsed, chest heaving as he gasped for air.

 

Giles made appreciative noises at Wesley's reaction and rubbed the ice in a circle to touch every point.

 

Wesley writhed desperately, but the cold was always there, inescapable. Just when he was starting to give in, he felt a pressure in his bladder, building fast. "Giles," he whimpered.

 

"Hmm?" Giles said, going still but not lifting the ice from Wesley's cock.

 

"I... I have to use the loo," Wesley said, embarrassed at having to admit such a thing at a moment like this.

 

Giles considered that for a moment, then took the ice away. "As I feared," he muttered. He waited a beat, then continued, "I really hate to have to free you at this point. I've gone to all the trouble of trussing up your cock to play with. Do you think it can wait?"

 

The pressure was strong; apparently both glasses of water had made it through his system intact. "I don't know," Wesley said. He began squirming, trying to hold it in.

 

Giles shook his head, though Wesley couldn't see him. "I think you should hold it for a bit," he said. "If I must give up my fun, I should at least have the consolation of seeing you suffer." His tone was gentle, and he brushed his fingers through Wesley's hair soothingly.

 

Wesley swallowed and nodded. He wished he could cross his legs, but they were spread wide. There wasn't even enough slack for him to twist to the side. As the need to go increased, he squirmed more, bit his lip, tried thinking of anything but the pressure in his bladder.

 

Regretfully, Giles unwound the bandage from Wesley's genitals and put it in the nightstand for later use.

 

Without the constriction, Wesley's erection quickly began to fade. The pressure inside him was easier to bear, knowing Giles was about to let him go to the toilet. But Giles didn't go to free him from his bonds.

 

Once the bandage was off, Giles prodded the region of Wesley's bladder lightly. Wesley's squirming and whimpering was no less enjoyable because the cause was different.

 

Wesley's face crumpled as he concentrated on holding it in, forced to work hard at it as Giles added external pressure to the internal pressure. When Giles pressed harder, Wesley whimpered through gritted teeth.

 

"Is it very bad?" Giles asked with a tone of fascination.

 

"Yes!" Wesley said, hissing sharply.

 

"Good," Giles said softly, and briefly increased the pressure he was applying. "I think I'd like to hear you beg now."

 

Wesley whimpered at the increase, and began begging immediately. "Please let me go, please, please!"

 

Giles didn't respond immediately, reveling in Wesley's desperation. "I'll let you go," he said finally. "But first I want you to count to one hundred. You mustn't skip any numbers or you'll have to start over."

 

Wesley began counting aloud, quickly at first, but as the numbers climbed along with his need, he began to slow down. The thirties were an agony, and by the time he hit 45 he was struggling.

 

Giles was still moving his hand against Wesley's bladder, never allowing him to forget his condition. He took pity and applied a bit less pressure as Wesley struggled through the middle part of his challenge.

 

The numbers were easier now, and Wesley sped up. He made it all the way to 75 before he was wincing and squirming enough to slow down again, but this time it was even more unbearable. It was a slow crawl to 90, but he made it. Relief was in sight.

 

As Wesley approached the end, Giles switched from rubbing lightly to prodding Wesley's bladder aggressively, making him struggle harder than ever.

 

Wesley cried out in agony; his bladder felt ready to burst. There were tears in his eyes as he spoke the final numbers, and the closer he got to the end the harder Giles pushed. He stuttered out, "ninety-eight... ninety-n-nine..." and had to stop because the pressure was so intense he couldn't breathe. And then he was over the crest of it, and he shouted a victorious "one hundred!"

 

Giles chuckled at Wesley's triumphant tone, but immediately started to untie him.

 

Wesley had to go so badly that when Giles finally tried to get him to sit up, he struggled against him, unable to bear any shift in pressure.

 

Giles pinned Wesley's arms. "Stop it," he said firmly. "Let me help you."

 

Wesley took a few gasping breaths, then nodded when he was ready.

 

Giles helped Wesley to sit and reached out to remove the blindfold, then had another wicked impulse. Leaving the blindfold alone, he refastened Wesley's wrists behind his back and helped him to his feet.

 

Wesley frowned in confusion, but was too focused on holding it in to bother with questions at this point. His legs were stiff, and he had to lean on Giles as they walked.

 

Giles supported Wesley down the stairs and led him in front of the toilet, then stood behind him and took his cock in hand to hold it steady. "Go on," he whispered in Wesley's ear.

 

Wesley shivered. At first he couldn't go, unused to having another's hand touching him for this, but the urge overcame his inhibitions. A strong stream of piss ran out of his cock and into the toilet.

 

Part of Giles' mind was reeling in shock that he'd actually taken his control of Wesley this far. It was base and disgusting, and like everything else he'd done with Wesley, felt absolutely right on some level. Someday, he thought, he'd find a way to take absolute control of Wesley's body, right down to his breathing.

 

Eventually the stream lessened to a trickle. Wesley almost sobbed with relief as his bladder was finally emptied, and only Giles' grip on him kept him upright.

 

Giles let Wesley lean on him for a few minutes, petting his hair soothingly. When Wesley seemed able again, Giles led him back upstairs and laid him on his side.

 

Wesley felt as if he might melt into the bed. His whole body was flooded with relief, along with an exquisite glow of satisfaction that he couldn't begin to explain.

 

Giles tied Wesley's ankles to the corner of the bed, but left his hands behind his back for the time being. He sat with Wesley and combed his fingers through Wesley's hair. "Get some rest," he said. "You've had a long day."

 

Wesley gave a lazy, tired smile and closed his eyes. "Thank you, sir," he said, and then snuggled into the pillow and fell asleep.

 

Giles stayed with Wesley until he was sure Wesley was sound asleep, then got up and wandered around the apartment, taking care of a few things and preparing for the next day. He cleaned up everything they'd taken upstairs, and much later he woke Wesley to let him prepare for bed properly. Getting ready for bed was pleasantly routine, though Giles observed the amount of stubble on Wesley's cheeks and wondered if he should begin shaving him daily. Before long, they were settled in bed, both ready to drift off again quickly.


PART FIFTEEN: Buffy

 

In the morning, Wesley felt like he was floating--or that the whole world was floating, and carrying him along with it. The clarity he'd felt the night before was still there, along with an almost physical adoration towards Giles. Without the intense sensations he'd experienced, however, he craved nothing more than to be close to Giles, to follow his every wish. He submitted eagerly to his morning shave.

 

Giles was pleased to see Wesley still doing so well. He set him to work when they got to the library, but encouraged him to fantasize a bit to keep himself hard, helping out with occasional touches and obscene whispers in Wesley's ear.

 

Wesley easily stayed aroused all morning. It felt perfectly natural to stay that way, because Giles wanted it to happen. He wasn't bothered at all by the teenagers who visited the library, including the Slayer and her friends. He simply stayed in his place at the table, slowly working.

 

After the children had gone off for lunch, Giles called Wesley into his office for the first time that day.

 

"Giles?" Wesley asked, once they were inside. "I was wondering, could we do what we did on Sunday morning? For a little while?"

 

It took Giles a moment to remember what Wesley was talking about, then realized that Wesley wanted to sit with him. "I see no reason why not," he said.

 

"Thank you," Wesley said, pleased. Giles sat down with his lunch, and Wesley settled on the floor next to him, resting his head in Giles' lap. He sighed contentedly; this was what he had been missing all morning.

 

Giles stroked Wesley's hair and fed him his lunch just as he would have at home. Wesley's eager subservience continued to take his breath away.

 

Wesley ate slowly, wanting to draw their togetherness out as long as possible. If they didn't work in such a public place, he would have asked to stay this way all day long.

 

Giles let Wesley stay with him for nearly an hour, but in the end he sent Wesley back to work, knowing it would attract attention if they spent all day sequestered in the office. He felt no particular need for sex yet today, and as Wesley seemed to be in a very good place, Giles didn't care to shake him out of it by playing too hard. He was more than satisfied by the continued bulge in Wesley's trousers, a bit less obvious today than yesterday but still very visible.

 

At the end of the school day, Buffy arrived. This time, Wesley greeted her happily. "Hello, Buffy. Today is wonderful, don't you think?"

 

Buffy eyed Wesley uncertainly. "Um. Yeah."

 

Giles caught Buffy's eye and shook his head slightly. She shrugged at him as if to say, "Whatever..."

 

"Wesley, may I see you in my office?" Giles asked.

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, and walked past a rather baffled-looking Buffy into Giles' office.

 

Giles gave Buffy a bemused look which was only a little bit forced and said, "We'll be right back."

 

Once the door of the office was closed behind them, he said quietly, "Wesley, are you all right?"

 

"Of course," Wesley said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

 

"You just called me 'sir' in front of Buffy," Giles pointed out, raising his eyebrows.

 

"Oh." It had been such second nature that Wesley hadn't even realized he'd done it until Giles pointed it out. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to."

 

"I appreciate your devotion, Wesley," Giles said, "but you must be careful. Not everyone would understand what we have."

 

After a pause, he continued, "Do you feel prepared to help with training today?"

 

"I'd like to help any way I can," Wesley said. Even as he said it, he felt a disturbance in the lovely bubble he'd been floating in all day. It wasn't enough to pop it, however.

 

"Are you still hard?" Giles asked.

 

That was a topic with which Wesley felt more comfortable. "Yes, sir."

 

"I'm afraid we'll have to do something about that," Giles said, "much as it saddens to me to say it."

 

Wesley tried to think about not being erect, but it was rather like not thinking about a purple elephant. Particularly with Giles in the room, all handsome and wonderful and looking at him thoughtfully.

 

Giles smiled regretfully at Wesley's confused look and turned to the small refrigerator in the corner, where he always stored a few ice packs for Buffy's injuries.

 

"Take down your trousers," he said as he retrieved one.

 

Wesley obediently complied, letting them pool around his feet. His erection stood comfortably erect, ready for Giles' use.

 

Giles looked Wesley up and down thoroughly. "Beautiful," he said. "I wish I didn't have to do this. I do want you to be able to work with us, though."

 

He moved around behind Wesley and covered Wesley's mouth with one hand, then held the ice pack against his cock and balls with the other.

 

The agonized noise Wesley made would have sent Buffy running in, if it hadn't been too muffled for her to hear it. Wesley's eyes bulged as his most sensitive parts were iced into submission.

 

Giles' own cock twitched with interest as Wesley whimpered behind his hand and squirmed against him, trying to escape the torture of the ice. "Shh," he scolded softly.

 

Wesley swallowed back his whimpers, but it was harder to stop the instinctive need to escape the cold. He wriggled desperately, but the ice stayed with him, inescapable.

 

Giles finally pulled the ice pack from Wesley's groin when Wesley was soft. He let go of Wesley a moment later and said, "That's a good boy. You can get dressed again." He put the ice pack back in the fridge, segregated from the others so he would remember to wash it later.

 

Wesley wore a pained expression as he pulled his trousers back up, zipping very gently. His cock felt like it was in shock, and it probably was. He knew the rest of him was.

 

Giles looked at Wesley's expression and stopped for a moment to stroke his cheek. "I'd say I'm sorry," he murmured, "but I rather like thinking you're so eager for me that this is the only way to control it."

 

One of the whimpers that Wesley had been suppressing leaked out as he leaned into Giles' hand. He breathed in, then let it out again with a shudder as his body slowly began to recover.

 

"Come on," Giles urged. "Let's go to work, and then I can take you home and let you be hard again."

 

Wesley pulled himself together. "Yes, sir," he said.

 

They went back out to the library, where Buffy was sitting on the table and kicking her feet with a bored look on her face.

 

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Giles said. "We had a bit of a misunderstanding, but it's cleared up now. Shall we proceed?"

 

Buffy hopped off the table and Giles began the training routine as normal, but as soon as it came time to spar he announced that Wesley would join them. Wesley was significantly more subdued when he approached Buffy this time.

 

Giles setup a scenario with he and Wesley approaching Buffy from opposite sides. He and Wesley put on the necessary padding to protect themselves, and they began.

 

Wesley's attention was split between Giles and Buffy, trying to watch for different kinds of signals from each of them. He shifted his padding and decided to go for it, lunging at Buffy rather awkwardly. The next thing he knew, the air was knocked out of him, he was on the floor with Buffy's foot on his chest.

 

"All right, Buffy," Giles said, going over to help Wesley up. Buffy took a step back and gave Wesley a skeptical look.

 

Wesley wanted to feel affronted, but he wasn't supposed to be that way anymore. He felt awkward instead, that he was already failing to live up to Giles' expectations, and they'd barely started. He wasn't the best fighter, but he was normally a bit more competent than this. He stood with Giles help and gave him an apologetic look.

 

"Let's try it again," Giles said. "Hold back a bit, Wesley. Make her come to you."

 

"Is he supposed to be helping or am I supposed to be training him now?" Buffy asked sarcastically.

 

"Buffy," Giles chided. "As you'll recall, I had trouble keeping up with you at first, too."

 

"You're seriously asking me to make that comparison?" Buffy replied.

 

"Buffy," Giles said again, his tone sharp. He gave Wesley an apologetic look of his own. "Let's try this again."

 

"Willow told me you guys were bonding," Buffy said, shaking her head at them.

 

Wesley and Giles again took up their positions. This time Wesley kept back. When Giles started circling Buffy slowly, Wesley mirrored his actions. Buffy looked between the two of them, and for a long moment Wesley was certain that she was going to attack him, but then before he could even flinch she was moving for Giles.

 

Giles managed to avoid her first few swings, and blocked another with a loud "Oof!" Wesley closed in to try to take advantage of her distraction. She didn't even seem to notice him as he edged closer, but the moment he lunged again, her leg shot out and caught him right in the solar plexus, hard enough to send him flying back.

 

Again, Wesley found himself flat on his back. He could actually feel the outline of Buffy's shoe on his body, and he clutched at the spot as he coughed air back into his lungs.

 

While Wesley went flying, Giles used the distraction to slip past Buffy's guard and grapple with her. Within seconds, she had him pinned against the table, hand raised as though to stake him.

 

"Good, Buffy," Giles said as he straightened, then went to help Wesley up.

 

Wesley was struggling to remember everything he'd learned about Slayer training and hand-to-hand combat. Oh, he'd had a number of lessons on the matter, but he'd always been much more of a long-range combatant. Tactics had been more his cup of tea, and he'd favored the crossbow as far as actual combat went. Slayers were gifted with instinctive fighting knowledge and reflexes when they were Called, and besides, their foes were supernatural creatures. Acting as a punching bag hadn't been in the Watcher job description.

 

"You all right?" Giles asked Wesley as he pulled him to his feet.

 

"Is this your normal training procedure?" Wesley asked, holding his hand against his sore stomach. The padding wasn't helping nearly as much as he would have hoped.

 

"More or less," Giles said. "Believe me, I've had more than a few bruises myself." He smiled at Buffy. "We're hardly the most challenging sparring partners, but we can at least tell her where she can improve her technique and give her a chance to practice when her life isn't actually in danger."

 

Wesley nodded, and winced slightly. "I don't suppose we could continue with thicker padding?"

 

Giles nodded and helped Wesley add an extra layer of padding to his torso. Wesley collected a few more bruises as they continued working, but none quite so bad as the first two.

 

It was one of the hardest workouts Wesley could recall participating in, and that included the physical stress test required for graduation. At least that hadn't involved being kicked in the chest and bodily thrown across the room enough times that he'd lost count. He'd managed to get a few blows in of his own, at least.

 

Giles was a little appalled at Wesley's lack of combat skill, considering he had been chosen as active Watcher, but Wesley was making a good effort. Giles trusted he would improve with time. Training with two Slayers would make both of them better fighters.

 

Eventually Wesley had had enough battering for one day. He was bent over with one hand on his stomach and the other in the air as a plea to hold off. "Perhaps," he panted, "that's enough for today."

 

Buffy gave Wesley a skeptical look, but Giles said, "All right. Let's give Wesley a chance to recover. We can pick up tomorrow."

 

Wesley nodded gratefully and collapsed onto a chair, exhausted.

 

Giles and Buffy conferred for a minute about patrol, and then Buffy dashed off to change her clothes.

 

Giles laid a hand on Wesley's back. "Ready to go home?"

 

"Lord, yes," Wesley moaned. He ached all over.

 

"Come on," Giles said, chuckling. "You can soak in the bathtub for a while, if you like."

 

"Please," Wesley said, and stood with all the grace of an old, arthritic man.

 

Giles let Wesley lean on him a bit as they went out to the car. When they arrived home, he told Wesley to run himself a bath at the temperature he wanted, but not to get in yet.

 

Wesley kneeled in front of the bath, even though he yearned for the long, hot soak it promised.

 

Giles retrieved a suitable length of rope from upstairs, then went back down to the bathroom. He had Wesley get in the tub and settle comfortably, then looped the rope around the curtain rod and tied Wesley's wrists over his head.

 

The position was a little odd, as Wesley was used to keeping himself upright in the tub with his hands. He had to keep his feet against the other end of the tub to relax without slipping. But it barely mattered as the hot water was already working its magic.

 

Giles rolled his sleeves up and knelt by the tub for a few minutes, dipping his hands in the water to touch Wesley, careful not to apply too much pressure and aggravate his bruises.

 

Giles' hands moved down his body. The light massage felt good, but when it hit a particularly sore spot Wesley hissed in pain.

 

"Sorry," Giles said sincerely. "Your combat training seems a bit lacking, but all things considered you did quite well today. You complained a great deal less than I expected."

 

"I think I was too busy being thrown into walls," Wesley murmured.

 

Giles chuckled. "That will happen less as you improve."

 

"I sincerely hope so," Wesley said. He closed his eyes and let himself slide down further into the tub until his chin was at the water line. His arms were tugged upwards and his knees bent out of the water.

 

Giles moved his hand down to fondle Wesley's cock and balls for a moment. "May I make a confession?" he asked.

 

"Mmm," Wesley murmured, assenting.

 

"I very much enjoyed putting that ice on you today," Giles told him, speaking softly, even as he teased Wesley's cock back to hardness. "I rather hope I have to do it often."

 

Wesley opened his eyes and looked up at Giles curiously. "Really?"

 

"Oh, yes," Giles assured him. "The way you move, the sounds you make..." He hummed appreciatively. "And to have your cock be so eager for me that I have to freeze it into submission... it's gratifying, to say the least."

 

Between the heat suffusing his body and the gradual arousal Giles was inciting in him, Wesley couldn't quite work up the dismay he ought to be feeling at facing many more unpleasant icings. It was difficult for him to be upset when Giles was obviously so pleased with him about it. He settled for putting on a pout, which itself felt like an indulgence, but for himself rather than for Giles.

 

Giles laughed openly, but affectionately, at Wesley's expression. "I'll be careful not to damage you," he promised.

 

A thought struck Wesley. "So, am I to be aroused all the time, then?" he asked, remembering their earlier conversation on the matter.

 

"As often as possible," Giles restated. "I may redefine precisely when it's possible occasionally. To be perfectly honest, I'm a bit worried about the children seeing more than they ought. We'll have to watch ourselves. I think evidence that I do, in fact, have sexual urges would shock them deeply."

 

"I don't want to stop," Wesley said, the words slipping out of him.

 

"We won't stop," Giles promised him. "It's simply that discretion is called for."

 

Wesley pouted again. "I want to be yours all the time. Like this," he said, gesturing slightly with his bound hands.

 

Giles smiled at him. "If it's not by being hard, I'll find another way," he promised.

 

"Good," Wesley said, satisfied, then smiled up at Giles. "Though you realize that means you won't be able to torment me with ice packs as often."

 

Giles smirked and tweaked one of Wesley's nipples. "I'll find another way to do that, too," he said.

 

Wesley started in surprise, making the bathwater slosh about. When he settled down again, he looked up at Giles with a naughty, playful expression.

 

Giles arched his eyebrows, responding to Wesley's playfulness. "Something on your mind, boy?"

 

"I think I should see a demonstration," Wesley said, daringly.

 

"That can be arranged," Giles said, his voice dropping dangerously. "Have you finished your bath?"

 

Wesley felt a thrill, and his cock rose to attention. "What if I say I haven't?"

 

"Now you're being impertinent," Giles said in a warning tone, though there was still an undercurrent of affection in his voice.

 

He pulled the stopper out of the drain suddenly, then stood and grasped Wesley's wrists while he free the rope from the curtain rod. He forced Wesley to bend forward and quickly retied his hands so that they were bent as high on his back as they could go without Giles having to force anything to bend that didn't want to. He looped the rope around Wesley's neck to keep them there and secured it again at his wrists.

 

The rope pressed firmly against Wesley's throat. It didn't quite threaten his breathing, but he tried to ease it by keeping his wrists up as high as he could. The excitement of the moment made him harden in anticipation.

 

Giles hauled Wesley out of the bathtub and frog-marched him into the lounge. He considered his options, then pushed Wesley to his knees. "Stay."

 

He went upstairs and collected the rest of the rope from the bed, and everything that he hadn't taken out of the toy box yet, too. He thought it would be enough.

 

Even though Wesley had barely been apart from Giles all day, it hadn't been enough to simply be with him. He craved Giles' strength, his dominance, his delicious torment. He had a feeling that his teasing had done the job well enough that he was going to get all three in spades.

 

When Giles returned downstairs, he manhandled Wesley onto his back on the coffee table, leaving his hands tied. He at least made sure that Wesley's wrists were side-by-side, rather than overlapping painfully. Then he looped a piece of rope through one of Wesley's elbows and ran it under the table before looping it through the other elbow and securing it. After trying a few different things, Giles settled on folding Wesley's legs under the table and anchoring each ankle to the opposite elbow, as well.

 

The result was that Wesley was firmly hogtied to the table, without leverage or even the ability to raise his head more than an inch or two. His back was arched due to the position of his wrists. He wriggled in his bonds, testing them, and was greatly satisfied.

 

When Wesley was through squirming so delightfully, Giles slipped the blindfold over his eyes and prepared to add the last bit of bondage. He unlooped the rope from around Wesley's neck and instead ran it under the table and knotted it around the place where the ropes from Wesley's ankles intersected. Taking on more piece of rope, he started by wrapping it around the base of Wesley's cock and balls tightly a few times, like a cock ring. Then he looped it around Wesley's balls and back through itself, pulling it tight. The effect was to separate Wesley's testicles, dividing his scrotum into two distinct halves. A few more loops of rope around the top of Wesley's scrotum stretched it and forced his testicles as far down as possible, just as the bandage had done the previous night.

 

Finally, Giles ran the remainder of that rope under the table, as well, and held it taut as he tied the end to the same knot as the rope from Wesley's wrists. Any motion of Wesley's wrists would be transmitted directly to his groin.

 

Wesley had felt a tinge of disappointment when the rope was removed from his throat, but that was quickly forgotten as Giles bound his cock and balls. The sharp increase in sensation made him arch upwards, and when that made his wrists shift he felt an answering tug. He tilted his head back with a gasp, mouth gaping open, as he arched further and further, propelled by the intense tightness that was strengthening in a feedback loop. Finally he reached his limit, spine going limp as he breathed heavily.

 

Giles smiled and gave Wesley's cock a few light caresses with his finger tips, then went to prepare dinner.


PART SIXTEEN: A Whipping

 

While Giles was gone, Wesley alternated between pushing the limits of his bonds, and resting quietly, recovering from each round. Everywhere there was rope his body pulsed in time. Compared to the sensations of the ropes, he barely felt his bruises and aches. After a while he wore himself out enough that he began to relax into the bindings and drift, delighting in the feeling of utter helplessness.

 

Giles decided to make a soup, imagining with relish how slow and torturous it would be to feed to Wesley in his current position. When it was ready, he took two bowls in to the sofa. "Hungry?" he asked.

 

Wesley smelled something good, and it brought his hunger to the fore over his arousal. "Yes, sir," he said, feeling himself slide towards that state of being he'd been in earlier, where the only thing in the world that mattered was Giles. He wasn't quite there yet, but he could feel the edge of it, tempting him.

 

Giles nodded, though Wesley couldn't see him. He lifted Wesley's head with one hand and brought the first spoonful of soup to hover over Wesley's mouth. "Open up," he murmured, and when Wesley complied he let the hot--but not burning hot; he'd tested it himself--liquid dribble into Wesley's mouth.

 

The unexpected liquid set off startling coughing fit. There wasn't a lot of it, but in the position Wesley was in it was still too much. His nasal passages burned and his lungs ached by the time the fit was over, and he was only faintly aware of the taste of tomato soup.

 

Giles put the spoon down and took a moment to wipe Wesley's face with a napkin. "Sorry," he said. "Water?"

 

Wesley cleared his throat with a few more weak coughs. "Please," he rasped.

 

Giles helped Wesley to take a few sips from a glass of water, then tried the soup again.

 

This time Wesley was more prepared. He closed his throat as Giles trickled soup into his mouth, then carefully swallowed.

 

Slowly, one small spoonful at a time, Giles fed Wesley his soup. By the time it was done, his own soup was quite cold, but he hardly cared.

 

Wesley licked his lips clean, then accepted another sip of water.

 

Giles let Wesley have as much water as he wanted, then sat back and ate his soup, giving Wesley a brief rest.

 

The meal revived Wesley. Just as Giles was finishing his own food, Wesley began to wriggle in his bonds again, impatient for more of Giles' attentions.

 

Giles paused to check that Wesley's circulation was still good throughout his body. "Be still," he ordered, when he was satisfied. "I'll deal with you when I'm ready, and not before."

 

He washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, and only once that was done did he return to Wesley. He passed his hands over Wesley's arched torso once, then began toying with his nipples.

 

Wesley squirmed, not so much out of any desire to escape the sensation as for the sake of the squirming itself. It was only as the pinching became harder that he started to make small noises of discomfort.

 

Giles spent some time torturing one of Wesley's nipples with one hand while soothing the other with light strokes, alternating every few minutes. "Yes," he said thoughtfully, as Wesley's protests became louder. "A shopping trip is certainly in order. I can't wait to see how you react when I put a clamp on you for the first time. And when I take it off..."

 

Wesley didn't know what Giles was talking about, but it didn't sound like they'd be going to the mall for that kind of clamps. "Shopping trip?" he moaned, questioningly.

 

"For toys, so that I can keep you entertained," Giles explained. "That's another thing pets need, isn't it?"

 

Wesley breathed in sharply at the word. "Yes," he hissed, not even sure what he was agreeing to.

 

Giles smiled and let one hand wander down to Wesley's groin. "We'll get you a few different cock rings," he said, "for different occasions. And vibrators, of course. Perhaps one you can wear on your balls..." Giles' hand explored the areas in question as he spoke.

 

Wesley moaned, shifting so that the rope tugged at his genitals even as Giles touched them. He was only aware of sex toys in passing, his only actual experience being with the cock ring Giles used on him. But even the way Giles said the words made them sound full of promise.

 

"Plugs, of course," Giles continued, fingering Wesley's arse for a moment. "Though I'll have to use them judiciously, to see they don't stretch you out too much. And some weights for your balls. As much fun as stretching your balls like this is, it's even more exciting when you have to walk around with an extra pound of weight down there."

 

"All that?" Wesley asked, intimidated.

 

"Perhaps not all at once," Giles reassured him. "At least not at first. And it's not as though there aren't plenty of terrible things I can do to you without the toys..." Giles squeezed Wesley's testicles a bit to remind him of his current predicament.

 

Wesley made a half-strangled moan in response.

 

Giles smiled and squeezed again. With his other hand, he reached out and gently slapped Wesley's cock with the ends of his fingers, not hard enough to hurt, just to create sensation. He came back the other direction and continued, knocking Wesley's erection from side to side in a regular cadence.

 

The light slaps were just short of teasing, and strong enough to be pleasurable. Wesley tried to move his hips into the motion, to increase the sensation, but both the ropes and Giles' hand kept him in place.

 

So gradually that Wesley hardly noticed it at first, Giles increased the speed and force of the slaps and at the same time tightened his grip on Wesley's balls.

 

Giles seemed to delight in combining pleasure and discomfort, and that inevitably resulted in Wesley's senses becoming confused and overloaded. This was no exception. Both sensations sharpened simultaneously, leaving Wesley lost, producing increasingly loud gasps and moans.

 

Wesley's increasingly vocal responses only egged Giles on. When slapping Wesley's cock seemed to have reached the peak of how much it affected Wesley, Giles tried grasping it at the base and shaking it.

 

Wesley cried out loudly, arching despite the strong hold on his balls, and then cried out again at the increase in pressure there.

 

"Shh," Giles said. "I love to hear you, but we mustn't alarm the neighbors."

 

Wesley tried to hold back, but the stimulation was too great, and Giles kept increasing it, which made him even louder.

 

Giles stopped what he was doing and clucked his tongue at Wesley. "If you can't control yourself, I'll have to gag you, I'm afraid."

 

Wesley could only whimper in response, too far gone for words.

 

"Do you want me to stop?" Giles asked. "Or will you accept a gag?"

 

Wesley took a few gasping breaths, pulling himself together enough to respond. "Gag," he managed, not wanting this to stop.

 

Giles got up and went to look for something that would serve as a good gag. Digging through his drawers, he came across Wesley's single remaining pair of boxers--the one he'd kept the night he'd forced himself on Wesley. He hardly needed them as a reminder anymore, when he had the man himself to play with. He took them back to Wesley and rubbed the silk over Wesley's groin.

 

"Do you recognize this?" he asked.

 

It took Wesley a moment, but he recognized the feeling of his old boxers. But Giles had thrown them all out. "They're mine, but..." he said, frowning.

 

"The last time you wore these was the night I claimed you," Giles said. "I kept them, do you remember? I wanted them as a reminder that you were mine, because I didn't think you'd understand. I didn't think you wanted to be mine."

 

Wesley's mind swirled, trying to take that in. He'd been avoiding connecting that night with his experiences with Giles, because the aftermath had been so painful for him. He'd been so thoroughly rejected after... afterwards. "You told me to go away," he said, as it was the first thing that made it out of the confusion.

 

"I didn't think you'd want to stay," Giles said, still rubbing the silk over Wesley's erection.

 

"I thought you hated me, I thought--" Wesley trailed off, chest tightening.

 

Giles knelt beside Wesley, running his free hand through Wesley's hair. "Shh. I thought you were beautiful. I kept your shorts because I didn't want to forget you."

 

"I thought you were trying to punish me," Wesley blurted out. "And I liked it and I didn't know why..."

 

"I was punishing you," Giles said, his tone gentle. "You acted inappropriately. You had to learn your place. But you responded so wonderfully that I knew I wanted you. I wanted to keep you, but I thought it would make you unhappy." It was all half-truths and obfuscation, Giles admitted to himself, but on some level it was true, too. He'd wanted Wesley even before he'd brought him here and violated him.

 

"I wanted to stay," Wesley sniffed. "If you'd asked me I would have stayed."

 

"I'm sorry," Giles said. "I didn't know." He kissed Wesley's cheek. "You're here now," he pointed out. "Do you still want to stay?"

 

"Don't make me leave," Wesley begged. "I'm sorry, don't make me leave."

 

"Shh," Giles said, still combing his fingers through Wesley's hair. "Shh. I'll keep you forever," he promised.

 

"Please, I want to stay," Wesley begged, tears in his eyes. "Don't make me go, please."

 

Giles' hand tightened in Wesley's hair and his voice darkened. "You're not going anywhere."

 

"Anything," Wesley sobbed. "I'll do anything, please, please!" Tears streaked down the sides of his face.

 

"Yes, you will," Giles agreed, in the same dark tone.

 

"Please, please!" Wesley's words were slurred as he sobbed and begged, becoming incoherent.

 

Giles let go of Wesley long enough to crush his shorts into a compact wad, then grabbed Wesley's jaw in a vise grip and stuffed the wad into Wesley's mouth, leaving the waistband and excess material hanging out.

 

"The last time you wore these, you were begging me to stop," he said. "Now you'll wear them so I don't have to stop."

 

Wesley's cries were muffled by the gag. Even as the tears continued to stream down his face, he felt a desperate need for Giles to keep going, to never stop, no matter what was done to him.

 

Giles grabbed Wesley's cock roughly and started stroking him. With his other hand, he sought out Wesley's bruises, pressing them cruelly. "You're going to prove you want this," he growled. "I'm going to make you scream, Wesley."

 

Wesley whimpered and tried to pull away from the jabs of Giles' fingers. He shook his head, trying to deny that he wanted the pain.

 

Giles gave Wesley a stinging slap across the ribs. "You forget yourself," he growled. "You're mine. You were made to suffer for me."

 

Wesley moaned pitifully, the sound disappearing into the gag. He tried to raise his head, then let it fall back again.

 

"I tried being kind to you, but you didn't want that," Giles continued, his hand tightening painfully on Wesley's cock, twisting it. "You're an ungrateful little whore and you deserve to be punished."

 

Wesley bit down on the gag. His eyes bulged with pain, but he didn't scream. He wasn't going to scream. Punishment was supposed to be accepted without complaint.

 

"Are you ready to be punished?" Giles asked, unbuckling his belt.

 

Wesley whined in fear and tried to pull away.

 

Giles grabbed Wesley's jaw and wrenched Wesley's face towards him. "Do you want to be punished, boy?"

 

Wesley couldn't begin to say what he wanted anymore. He made an abortive nod, then cringed.

 

Giles slid his belt off, folded it in half, and gave it an experimental swing. "You know you deserve it, though, don't you?" he growled.

 

Wesley gave a tiny nod. He did deserve it, he deserved every bad thing that ever happened to him, everything that Giles could do to him.

 

"That's right," Giles said, touching Wesley's cheek almost tenderly. "You deserve this for waiting days to turn yourself over to me. For everything you did to resist me. You deserve it for every woman who ever touched you, and every time in your life you came without my permission."

 

Wesley nodded again, clearly this time. If he'd been capable of speech he would have begged for it, but as it was he could only sob with each breath.

 

"Brace yourself," Giles said quietly, but still with steel in his voice. It was the only warning he gave before he swung the belt down to lay a stinging stripe across Wesley's ribs.

 

Wesley bit down hard, making a strangled noise as he arched sideways in pain. His skin sang where the belt had hit, then edged into a steady aching throb.

 

"You wasted days, Wesley," Giles grated, and brought the belt down again, this time across the soft flesh of Wesley's stomach.

 

It stung even more this time, making Wesley writhe and tug at his wrists. He was so focused on the pain of the belt that the tightness on his cock and balls was barely registering.

 

"This is for every time you wanted anyone but me," Giles said, his voice rising in anger. The third blow landed across Wesley's nipples.

 

Wesley's eyes bulged beneath the blindfold, and he arched up as far as the ropes would allow. When he finally breathed again, it was in desperate, hitching sobs.

 

"For every day you haven't spent on your knees to me," Giles continued, his voice catching with grief. "Every minute you're not hard for me. This is for ever not knowing that you're mine."

 

As he spoke, Giles brought the belt down again and again. By the time his litany of Wesley's sins trailed off, there were tears burning his eyes, but he blinked them back stubbornly.

 

Wesley whole body was throbbing with pain, and each strip of skin where the belt had hit joined into a chorus of teeth-aching agony. His face had grown red, his neck corded. His nostrils flared for air. A tremendous build-up of emotion was trapped inside him. A scream was growing in his chest, but there was no way for it to get out.

 

Giles hit Wesley faster and harder, harder than he knew he should, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. A few blows left lines of blood on Wesley's skin, where the edges had bitten deep.

 

"Damn you!" he snarled. "I want you to scream." With the last word, he brought the belt down directly across Wesley's still-flushed cock.

 

Giles' command put a crack in the dam inside Wesley, and the extreme pain blasted through it. Everything flooded out of him in a long, agonized scream. His head tilted back and every muscle tensed as he yelled his pain into the gag. When the wave carrying him crashed down, he broke into wracking sobs. His lungs heaved for air, becoming more desperate as his nose began to stuff up from crying.

 

Giles dropped the belt and sank to his knees, taking Wesley's head in his hands. Tears ran down his face as he tugged the cloth out of Wesley's mouth. He pushed off the blindfold. "Oh, God," he murmured, stroking Wesley's forehead. "Oh, God, Wesley." He kissed Wesley's face desperately, making small wordless noises of grief.

 

Wesley gasped, taking in the air he'd been denied, and let it out again in rough, staggered sobs. He cried and cried, letting out a seemingly endless store of pain and fear and sadness. Everything hurt, everything, and the release was intensely powerful.

 

Giles continued to hold Wesley's head and try to soothe him for a minute, but it wasn't enough. He needed Wesley in his arms. While Wesley cried, Giles worked feverishly to free him from the ropes. As soon as he had the necessary bindings out of the way, he pulled Wesley off the table and into his lap. More carefully, he untied Wesley's wrists, then began to free his cock and balls.

 

As the blood rushed back into his limbs, Wesley screamed again, and Giles had to put a quick hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. Once he was sure Wesley could be relatively quiet, Giles let go and removed the last of the restraints. Wesley keened with agony and relief as the ropes were removed.

 

Giles held Wesley carefully and rocked him a bit, making soothing sounds in response to Wesley's pain. "Mine," he whispered. "I'll never let you get away."

 

Wesley's tears slowly began to taper off, and his cries diminished to a long trail of breathy hiccups and whimpers. As his limbs began to cooperate again, he wrapped himself around Giles, clinging as much as he could without making his injuries hurt more.

 

Giles petted Wesley's head and back, anywhere he thought it wouldn't hurt Wesley for him to touch, reassuringly. "How do you feel?" he asked softly.

 

Wesley shook his head. He couldn't describe how he felt right now, had barely begun to process it. He hurt, God he hurt, but it was as if Giles had beaten some other, intangible pain out of his body. A demon had been ripped out of his chest, and its claws had left deep scores in his flesh, but at the end, now, he was free of it. He laughed, then winced.

 

Giles chuckled in sympathy. "You suffer beautifully," he said. "Though I have the sense I won't need to do anything quite so severe again... will I?" He gave Wesley an understanding smile.

 

"No, sir," Wesley rasped. He returned Giles' smile with his own pained one.

 

Giles kissed Wesley's hair, then laid his cheek against Wesley's head. "Such a good boy, taking your punishment so bravely."

 

"Thank you," Wesley rasped, closing his eyes. He felt as if everything he'd ever done wrong before now had been absolved. Any amount of pain was worth this grace.


PART SEVENTEEN: Aftermath

 

They sat together for a long time. There didn't seem to be much to say after such an intense release of emotion. Giles was willing to let Wesley cling to him for as long as he needed, provided nothing else interfered.

 

When his need for physical comfort overcame his need for emotional comfort, Wesley let go of Giles and tried to shift positions. It was then that he truly started to feel the extent of his injuries, and gasped in pain.

 

"Easy! Easy," Giles said, supporting Wesley as best he could. "What do you need?"

 

Wesley hissed in a breath as he tried to move his limbs. "My legs," he managed. "Bloody hell."

 

"You probably stressed your knees quite a bit, the way you were struggling," Giles said. "Do you want me to help you?"

 

"Please." Wesley's arms hurt as well, though frankly if he was going to start a catalogue he could simply write down 'everything' as the first item and leave it at that.

 

As gently as he could, Giles moved Wesley out of his lap and wrapped an arm under Wesley shoulders, then pulled him to his feet. He held Wesley up while the younger man hissed and whimpered and shifted his weight awkwardly as he tried to convince his legs to work again. Giles suspected the backs of his knees, where the edges of the table had dug in, would be painful for days.

 

Wesley stood like a trembling colt. He couldn't quite take all of his own weight, but with Giles' help he could stand. "Perhaps the bath?" he asked, hoping for a way to lessen the aches.

 

Giles chuckled. "You're going to bathe so much you dissolve away," he teased, but helped Wesley into the bathroom and sat him on the toilet while he ran another bath for him. He added some bath salts that he kept on hand for his own days of rough training, which he'd found helped a bit to ease muscle pain, at least for a short while.

 

Getting into the bath was its own challenge. Giles helped him lift his legs over the side so he could sit down. Wesley hissed as the wounds on his stomach stung, and then leaned back to let the heat sink into his bones.

 

Giles left long enough to get Wesley a glass of water and a snack, then returned and sat with him, prepared to give him anything he needed.

 

Wesley was particularly glad for Giles' preference for hand-feeding him tonight. He asked for a bit more hot water when the bath began to cool, but when he started to prune up he agreed that it was best they move to the bedroom.

 

Giles helped Wesley up the stairs, which, though the state of Wesley's legs had been somewhat improved by the bath, turned out to be an even greater challenge than getting him in the bathtub. He lay Wesley down on his back and began to massage his arms and legs gently, focusing on trying to work out some of the tension left from their having been bound in unnatural positions for so long.

 

Wesley moaned softly, first because of the discomfort the massage awoke, and then because it felt good. The only problem was that as his limbs stopped complaining, the marks from the whip took the fore.

 

"What is it?" Giles asked, seeing Wesley's pained expression.

 

"The belt," Wesley explained. "Is there anything we could put on the marks?"

 

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for those," Giles said. "You'll have to bear them for a day or two."

 

Wesley looked down at himself. The bruises that had blossomed on his chest and stomach after the training session were covered with an array of belt marks. The stripes were mostly red but already darkening. Wesley dared a look at his cock, which felt particularly sore, but that was likely due to natural sensitivity rather than injury, which was comparatively light. He was going to be a mass of colour tomorrow, and even more florid the day after.

 

Giles smiled at Wesley's stunned look. "You're a work of art, hmm?"

 

"You don't think it's... unsightly?" Wesley asked. Injuries had always been something to hide out of shame for being weak enough to receive them, not anything to show off.

 

"Not at all. I put these marks on you, after all," Giles said, tracing one of the places where Wesley's skin had broken with his fingertip.

 

Wesley watched in fascination. There was a hungry gleam in Giles' eyes. "A work of art," Wesley said, making it a half-question.

 

Giles nodded in confirmation. "It'll be that much more of a shame when I have to put clothes on you again."

 

Wesley was in too much pain to be aroused, but Giles' appreciation still pleased him. The fact that the appreciation was directly related to Giles injuring him had the potential to be frightening, but it was tempered by the pleasure he felt at being marked. Pain was temporary, he reminded himself--though he imagined that tomorrow morning he wouldn't feel quite so sanguine about it.

 

"I don't think I'll be able to assist you with training for a while," Wesley admitted.

 

"No," Giles agreed. "That's all right. You can try again when Faith rejoins us."

 

"She's coming back?" Wesley said, surprised. "Then her work with Angel..."

 

"I need to speak with Angel, but I expect her back by the end of next week," Giles informed him.

 

"Then I'll have to heal up before she arrives," Wesley said. "I want to be there to help you."

 

Giles nodded, a bit surprised by Wesley's enthusiasm. "Then you will be," he promised.

 

Wesley smiled up at Giles. He was distantly aware that he should be intimidated at the thought of working with Faith, or be afraid of being hurt in another training session. But none of that seemed to matter anymore. As long as Giles believed in him, wanted him, he wasn't afraid.

 

Giles returned Wesley's smile. "Would you like me to put your cuffs on?"

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said. He didn't feel the usual edge of need to be bound, but he still didn't feel right without them.

 

Giles fastened the cuffs on, then went downstairs to retrieve the ropes so he could tie Wesley when the time came.

 

Wesley held up his arms and looked at the cuffs. He fingered the leather admiringly, seeing them for the first time with a calm eye. He noted the red marks on his forearms from where the rope had rubbed and held tight--there was some mild bruising where he'd taken the worst of it, but nothing terrible. Out of curiosity he inspected his legs, and found similar marks there.

 

He felt different. Changed, more than on a simple physical level. He didn't quite fit into himself anymore; he wanted to reach out, to act, not just react, as he had for so long. It took him a while to realize it was because the fear that had been eating away had him had been beaten down. He wasn't afraid because for the first time in his life, he knew someone would be there beside him, helping him. The knowledge was exhilarating.

 

When Giles returned, he reattached the ropes to the bed, then sat beside Wesley. "Is there anything you need?" he asked.

 

"Just you," Wesley said, a bit giddy.

 

Giles laughed and kissed Wesley's cheek. "All right, then," he said. "Will you be comfortable on your side?"

 

Wesley tried to turn on his side, but his ribs complained. He winced and turned onto his back again. Even if his spirit had been rejuvenated, his flesh was definitely in need of further recuperation.

 

Giles frowned. "This is going to be a bit difficult, isn't it?"

 

Wesley gave him an apologetic look.

 

Giles kissed Wesley again and settled on his side, propping his head up on one arm. He studied the marks on Wesley's chest intently, remembering how Wesley had looked, his body arched and face contorted in agony. It had made Giles hard, but he had barely noticed at the time. He'd been too focused on hurting Wesley at first, and then on soothing and caring for him, and his erection had faded almost unnoticed. Now his cock stirred again at the memory.

 

Wesley saw the hungry look in Giles' eyes again. "Admiring your art?"

 

Giles looked up and met Wesley's eyes with a steady gaze. He reached out and slowly tapped Wesley's lips. "I do believe you're speaking out of turn," he said, though his voice wasn't angry, merely amused.

 

"Sorry, sir," Wesley said, not quite meaning it, then pressed his lips together as if to seal them.

 

"No, you're not," Giles said, still without anger. He looked at Wesley curiously. "I do believe this is the first time I've corrected you that you weren't sorry. Why is that?"

 

"I don't know," Wesley said. "I suppose it's that... something's different."

 

Giles' eyebrows went up. "Something?"

 

Wesley shifted his head against the pillow. It was hard for him to explain this, especially as he wasn't entirely sure of the answer himself. "Something. I don't know, I just... feel different. About you."

 

"Hmm. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Giles asked. "Or perhaps I should ask: is it a good thing or a bad thing for me?"

 

"Good," Wesley said, hurriedly. "I mean, I hope it is. I just feel... comfortable with you now." He met Giles eyes, feeling particularly bold. "Perhaps because I know that... that I'm yours. That I'll always be yours."

 

Giles smiled lazily and leaned in to kiss each of Wesley's eyelids once. "I'd say that's a very good thing," he said.

 

Wesley gave a relieved smile. "Do you think... I mean, it's just a thought. Obviously you don't have to, but..."

 

"Spit it out, Wesley" Giles urged gently.

 

Wesley braced himself. "Could we--you--change the rule?"

 

"You want to be allowed to speak freely?" Giles asked. When Wesley nodded nervously, he considered the request for a moment. "I suppose," he answered, finally. "But only with me. You must still wait for anyone else to address you. Does that seem fair?"

 

Wesley nodded. "Absolutely, thank you. I just... wanted to be able to talk to you. I like talking to you."

 

Giles felt blood rush to his face and ducked his head so Wesley wouldn't see his blush. He wasn't sure why Wesley's words meant so much to him.

 

Wesley let out a sigh of contentment, and then yawned.

 

Giles ran his fingers through Wesley's hair. "I seem to keep wearing you out early. You should rest."

 

The pain and exhaustion were catching up with Wesley fast. He nodded sleepily and rubbed his eyes.

 

As Wesley lowered his hands from his eyes, Giles gently caught his wrists and pulled them above his head, tying them loosely. "There," he murmured, and resumed playing with Wesley's hair as the younger man closed his eyes.

 

Wesley dropped off with a tired smile on his face, and was soon sunk into a deep, healing sleep.

 

Giles sat with Wesley for a long time after the younger man drifted off to sleep, staring at the marks he'd made in wonder. He could hardly believe he'd done that to Wesley. Might not believe it, if it weren't for the ache in his left arm from swinging the belt over and over again. He thought he should feel bad for hurting Wesley, but he didn't. He felt... lighter, relieved. It was as though he'd put down some terrible burden he'd been carrying. He didn't understand the feeling, couldn't explain why he'd done what he'd done, and he didn't care to analyze it too closely for fear of losing the feeling. As with everything he did to Wesley these days, he just knew it had felt right.

 

It still felt right, as he thought back on the way Wesley's body had twisted and jerked with each blow, how the fabric of his shorts spilled out of his stuffed mouth, muffling his moans and whimpers--and his scream. A gagged scream was even more gratifying than a clear one, Giles decided, and Wesley's had been glorious. He lingered on the memory, turning it over and inspecting it in his mind like a precious jewel. His cock stirred again, and he opened his trousers, allowing himself the physical relief now that he hadn't had then.

 

As he moved his hand on his cock, remembering how helpless Wesley had been, trussed like a turkey for carving, Giles felt tears spring to his eyes again. He blinked them back, embarrassed, and tightened his grip on himself, as though more physical sensation could drive back the grief. It was grief, he was sure of that much, but for whom or what he couldn't say. Not for Wesley. He felt not a twinge of regret for the vivid lines on Wesley's chest, or the fainter marks on his cock where it had been bound for so long. They just made his breath quicken and his hand move faster on his shaft, propelling him towards his release.

 

As his orgasm approached, he climbed onto his knees and bent over Wesley. He found himself thinking back to the night he'd first taken Wesley. Raped. He allowed himself to think the word, looking down at Wesley's slack face and battered body. He'd raped Wesley and he'd enjoyed it, and he didn't feel a bit sorry. His lips curved in a hard smile. Wesley belonged to him, and he felt it in every cell of his body. And Wesley knew it, too. Giles marveled at how willingly Wesley accepted the lashing he'd just received, how it had only deepened his devotion to Giles. It made Giles feel like a god. He grunted and came, deliberately letting his semen run down Wesley's chest in a sort of counter-pattern to the belt marks.

 

He sank back on his heels and sat still for a few more minutes, recovering, then tucked himself back in and went to take care of household chores as though there were nothing unusual about having a bound, beaten, semen-covered man in his bed.


PART EIGHTEEN: Recuperation

 

Wesley woke from a deep sleep to the sound of Giles calling his name. His eyes cracked open. Lying still, he felt curiously good, but the moment he shifted to stretch, his body reminded him of what had been done to it. He almost gasped at the stiffness and aching discomfort.

 

Giles looked down at Wesley with sympathy. "Oh, you're in no state to go to work today, are you?"

 

"I seriously doubt it," Wesley said, trying not to move. Or perhaps breathe.

 

"Hmm," Giles said. "I suppose I'll have to leave you here, then."

 

"I don't suppose you could stay?" Wesley asked, hopeful.

 

Giles shook his head regretfully, then went to release Wesley's cuffs from the bindings. "Here," he said, urging Wesley to sit. "Let's at least get some breakfast in you."

 

Together they managed to get Wesley to sit with his back against the pillows. Wesley took a minute to orient himself, and then noticed that there was something on his chest. He poked at it curiously.

 

Giles smiled at Wesley without comment and offered him a bite of cereal.

 

Wesley accepted it, and chewed thoughtfully. He scraped lightly at the dry substance, and before the next spoonful tasted a bit of it.

 

Giles watched Wesley's reaction curiously to see if he could identify what it was.

 

Wesley let the taste sit on his tongue as he tried to place it. Realization came slowly, and he turned to Giles. "Did you... come on me? When I was asleep?"

 

Giles just stared at Wesley levelly, as though daring him to question Giles' actions.

 

It was a bit strange, but then Wesley had no idea what normal was anymore. There was certainly something appealing to the idea that he could excite Giles that much without even being awake. He accepted another spoonful of cereal.

 

Giles fed Wesley the rest of his cereal, then gave his chest the lightest of taps. "I don't want you scratching all this off," he said sternly.

 

Given that most of it was over his bruises, Wesley was quite content to leave that area off-limits. "Yes, sir." He tried to shift himself to be more upright, and managed it, but with rather a lot of discomfort. He grit his teeth until everything settled down again. "Do we have any aspirin?"

 

Giles' stern look only deepened. "I'd think it would go without saying that you'll bear the full effect of any injuries I inflict on you."

 

Wesley wanted to protest that surely physical care was in order, given the severity of his injuries. But Giles was surely far too firm on the matter to be willing to listen. Wesley nodded in acceptance.

 

Giles kissed Wesley lightly and stood up to take the dirty dishes downstairs. He paused to consider what he was going to do with Wesley for the day, since he wouldn't be here to monitor him. He wanted Wesley to be physically restrained, but still able to reach help if anything terrible happened. Some digging in the closet turned up a bike chain and a few padlocks. Giles debated for a minute, then decided he trusted Wesley with the telephone and unplugged his desk phone to take upstairs, too.

 

While Giles was downstairs, Wesley realized he had to use the toilet. It wasn't so urgent that he couldn't wait for Giles to return.

 

When Giles reached the loft again, he plugged the phone in and set it on the nightstand, then turned to Wesley and snapped a padlock onto one of his ankle cuffs, making it impossible for him to remove it.

 

Seeing that Giles was about to secure him, Wesley decided he'd better ask now. "Giles? Could you help me downstairs to the bathroom?"

 

Giles paused what he was doing, then looped the bike chain around the bedpost where it couldn't be removed, slipped it through the ring on Wesley's cuff, and locked it.

 

"No need for you to go downstairs," he said. "I'll be right back."

 

Wesley quirked a curious eyebrow as Giles left. He inspected the new restraint, and noted that it was long enough for him to stand and walk a few feet.

 

Giles gathered several more things for Wesley, including a pitcher of water, a plate of foods that he thought would be all right sitting out for most of the day, a large mixing bowl, and a box of baking soda. Upstairs, he put the water on the nightstand, the food on the bed, and the bowl on the floor at the end of the bed, with the baking soda next to it.

 

"You can go in here," he explained.

 

Wesley looked skeptically at the bowl. "Perhaps I could go now and just hold it in until you return?"

 

Giles gave him a look that was somewhere between confused and scolding. "I'm trying to save you the trouble of going downstairs. You are still in pain, yes?"

 

"Yes," Wesley said, still looking at the bowl. "It's not very proper, but I suppose it makes sense."

 

Giles looked askance at Wesley. "I believe we left the realm of proper quite some time ago," he said, looking Wesley over significantly.

 

"Of course," Wesley said, feeling a bit foolish. Last night he'd begged to be whipped, and Giles had come on him when he was asleep. Why should he be fretting over pissing into a bowl? It was absurd.

 

Giles nodded at Wesley's acquiescence. "Would you like something to read?" he asked. "Or I suppose I could bring the television up."

 

"Both, please?" Wesley said. He'd prefer to read but suspected his arms would tire from holding a book above his body for long periods.

 

Giles nodded. "All right." He went to get the requested items, willing to give Wesley some privacy while he relieved himself.

 

Once Giles had gone, Wesley began the slow process of reaching the bowl. His stomach protested when he bent forward, so he had to maneuver himself carefully to the edge of the bed and then slide himself off. He ended up kneeling in front of the bowl, with one hand on the bedpost to steady himself. He was trying to position himself to best avoid spashback when Giles returned.

 

Giles stopped at the top of the stairs with the TV in his arms. "Wesley," he chided, "why are you touching yourself?"

 

"Shouldn't I be?" Wesley said, confused. Giles had said he had permission to do so for just this purpose.

 

"I believe I said only if absolutely necessary," Giles answered. "That's hardly the case."

 

"It's rather awkward already," Wesley protested.

 

"You only need to lean down on your arms," Giles pointed out. He finished climbing the stairs and began to arrange the TV at the foot of the bed.

 

Wesley frowned, but followed Giles' instructions anyway. On his hands and knees, his cock dangled over the center of the bowl. It took him a while to relax enough to go, as he was rather uncomfortable with the whole matter, but necessity won over. He sighed as his bladder emptied.

 

Giles finished with the television and stopped to stroke Wesley's back just as he finished relieving himself. "Have you been holding yourself to use the loo on a regular basis?" he asked.

 

"Yes," Wesley admitted. "At the school. I thought it was permitted."

 

Giles tsked and shook his head. "I suppose I wasn't terribly clear," he conceded. "I'll make it simple this time. You're not to touch your cock for any reason now."

 

There was a spark of humiliation in Wesley's gut, but it was soon snuffed out. "Yes, sir."

 

"Very good," Giles said. He stroked Wesley's back once more, then reached down to touch his arse, simply because it was there, looking enticing. Then he moved away to collect some books for Wesley.

 

Wesley shook his hips to clear the last few drops of piss, then righted himself. He opened the box of baking soda and sprinkled some into the bowl. Might as well be practical about it, he told himself.

 

As Wesley gingerly resettled himself in bed, Giles brought up a stack of books that he'd thought Wesley might enjoy reading, from popular fiction to historical texts in Latin and Greek.

 

"Do you have everything you need?" he asked as he set them next to Wesley on the bed.

 

"I believe so," Wesley said, taking stock. "What time will you be back?"

 

"After training," Giles said. "Probably around six. I'll call you at lunch time, if you like. Don't speak when you pick up the phone; wait for me to speak to you."

 

"What if someone else calls, or rings?" Wesley asked.

 

"You needn't worry about it. They'll give up if they don't hear anything," Giles said.

 

Wesley nodded. "I'll miss you," he said, wistfully.

 

"And I you," Giles said, kissing Wesley on the forehead.

 

"Say hello to Buffy for me?" Wesley asked.

 

"I will," Giles promised. "Try to relax and enjoy yourself today."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said.

 

Giving Wesley another kiss, Giles stood and went downstairs to collect his things, then headed off to work.

 

The moment he heard the door close, Wesley began to feel a terrible longing to be with Giles again. They'd been together almost non-stop for days. Wesley had become accustomed to his constant caring and control, and the world was a much colder place without him. Giles would return tonight, and Wesley would have to do without him until then. Given that he'd done without anyone for so long, he suspected it ought to be easier to do so again, but it wasn't.

 

Instead of the books, Wesley distracted himself with the curiosity that was American morning television. The surreal talk shows, the children's programming, and the 1980s reruns were a novelty to him. Most of it was rather bewildering, but it passed the time. He took only a few small sips of water; he wasn't thrilled with the prospect of using the bowl again, so he erred on the side of thirst.

 

After a couple of hours he'd more than had his fill of the television, so he turned it off and lay flat on the bed to clear his mind. Without any painkillers his injuries made him that much more stiff and sore. He tried some careful stretches for his legs and arms, had a few bites of food, and then ended up dozing lightly for an hour or so.

 

Giles' day proceeded much as it always had, but without Wesley there he felt restless. It was absurd that he should miss the younger man so much after only two days, but he did. His eyes kept darting to Wesley's assigned seat at the center table, and each time he felt a little twinge of disappointment at seeing it empty.

 

Finally, after he finished his lunch, he shut himself in his office and picked up the phone to call Wesley.

 

Wesley was just contemplating starting on his lunch when the phone rang. He started at the sudden noise, and then snatched the receiver with eagerness. He almost said hello, but remembered to hold his tongue in time.

 

"Wesley?" Giles said. When Wesley responded, he continued, "How are you feeling?"

 

"All right. Trying not to jostle anything, at least," Wesley said.

 

Giles hummed. "Do you still have my come on you?"

 

Wesley blushed, and it took him a moment to collect himself enough to reply. "Yes, sir."

 

"Can you feel it on your skin?" Giles asked. "Does it itch?"

 

It did, though in comparison to the other complaints his body was making it was relatively easy to ignore. "A little," Wesley said.

 

Giles hummed again. "How does it make you feel?" he asked, his tone conveying only mild curiosity. "Do you feel dirty? Do you want to clean it off?"

 

"I did at first," Wesley admitted.

 

"And now?" Giles asked.

 

Wesley looked down at the dry streaks of come on his chest. He touched the skin just at the edge of one streak, pulling it and pushing it back and making the come flake slightly. He thought of Giles kneeling over him during the night, hard and wanting. "I like it," he said, quietly.

 

Giles' hum this time indicated pleasure. "What is it that pleases you about it? Is it wearing my seed, a part of myself? Or is it the idea that I was excited by the mere sight of your helpless body in my bed?"

 

"Both," Wesley said, squirming at the effort of answering. "Especially because you're not here."

 

"Perhaps I should leave you like this more often," Giles suggested.

 

"Alone?" Wesley asked.

 

"Covered with my come," Giles corrected. "I could tie you down and defile you until my balls were drained."

 

Lust shot through Wesley's groin, and he made a choked whimpering sound.

 

"You like that idea," Giles observed, almost purring. "Good. Perhaps I'd fuck you, too, your mouth and your arse both. You'd have my come deep inside you and all over you and you couldn't do anything about it."

 

"Oh Lord," Wesley whimpered. The combination of his helplessness and Giles' possessiveness was a powerful aphrodisiac, and he already felt himself becoming aroused.

 

"That makes you hard, doesn't it?" Giles said. "I'd keep you hard, you know. You'd be begging for relief while I came on you, but I wouldn't allow it. I wouldn't touch you at all. You're such a little slut that the way I used you as my plaything would be enough keep you desperate for me."

 

It would. Giles already had Wesley under his thrall with only a few words. He would drive Wesley mad with lust if he were here. "Yes, please," he begged.

 

"So eager," Giles murmured approvingly. "Do you want to know what I was thinking about while I wanked last night? I was remembering that first night, how you begged so prettily for my cock."

 

After last night's release, Wesley didn't have to fight off the memories the way he had before. They weren't as frightening, now that he understood. He didn't have to be afraid that Giles would abandon him again. He remembered being bent over the desk, incredibly aroused and confused, with Giles teasing him, taunting him. "I remember," he said.

 

"I should hope so," Giles murmured. "It was rather memorable. I'll never forget how it felt to put my cock in you for the first time, knowing I was the only man who'd ever taken you. Your arse practically swallowed me. Your body knew what it wanted even if you didn't."

 

Wesley said nothing at first, only breathed into the phone. He could feel himself trying to adjust to see what had happened that night as part of their relationship now. "Tell me," he said. "What you thought. What it was like for you."

 

Giles thought about that for a few seconds. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and droning, almost hypnotic. "I had a beautiful, virgin boy completely at my mercy. I loved it. The way you begged me to stop, Wesley... I thought it was the most wonderful thing I'd ever heard. I never considered heeding your pleas, of course. You were already mine." Giles paused to gauge Wesley's reaction.

 

Wesley closed his eyes, letting himself slip back to that time, but imagining Giles as he knew him now in place of the intimidating mystery he had been. His cock throbbed as it started to harden. "I don't care about the Council anymore. I don't care if you tell."

 

"That's good," Giles said. "But I won't tell them. They'd only try to take you away from me."

 

"I don't want them to," Wesley said, cradling the phone to his ear. "Promise me you won't let them?"

 

"If they tried they'd have a bloody massacre on their hands," Giles said, and there was nothing in his voice to suggest he was exaggerating.

 

Wesley keened with pleasure. "I miss you," he breathed. "I miss how you touch me. Tell me more."

 

"You've no idea," Giles continued, returning to his thoughts about raping Wesley. "I hardly have words for what it was like, to know I was making you feel things no one else ever had. To make you enjoy things you'd begged me not to do. And, God, Wesley you were so tight. The way your body fought my cock and was forced to surrender... I've never felt anything like it."

 

"It scared me that I wanted it," Wesley said.

 

"I liked your fear," Giles confessed. "Tell me more about it."

 

Wesley took a deep breath, and then let it out shakily. "I couldn't... I was never allowed to--to want. Other men. My father--" He had to stop, unable to go any further.

 

"He disapproved," Giles surmised.

 

Wesley let out a short, sharp laugh. "He caught me once, with a magazine. I was thirteen, I think. I'd stolen it from a shop. I'd never stolen anything before. He hit me so hard..." He swallowed, then continued. "He said he'd beat it out of me. Made me hold the--the magazine as it burned." Wesley had never told anyone these things before, not ever. He'd tried to block it all out, lock it away where he'd never have to face it again. And then Giles had touched him, and it had all rushed back.

 

"Oh, Wesley," Giles murmured sympathetically, feeling a surge of compassion, along with a sharp spike of rage at the idea that anyone else would dare hurt his boy.

 

"I couldn't use my hands for weeks. I had... a black eye, and a broken arm, and bruises..." A terrible lump formed in Wesley's throat, and he started to tear up. "He was so furious when he looked at me. Told me it was u-unforgivable."

 

Giles was silent for a few seconds. "I think," he said slowly, his voice hard, "it would be best for everyone if your father and I were never in the same room together again. I believe I'd do something unfortunate."

 

Wesley nodded, even though Giles couldn't see him. If Giles had been there he could have sought shelter in his arms. But it was easier to talk about this over the phone, somehow. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. "You made me want again. I felt such a fraud with women, I couldn't... and they would sneer at me. They knew what I was, but I couldn't--"

 

"Shh," Giles soothed. "It's all right. You don't have to worry about that any more."

 

"That's why I was so ashamed. And then you... it felt... it was so good, it was what I'd wanted for so long. But you stopped and you were angry and--" Wesley sniffled. "I thought you were... disgusted with me. That you knew what it meant, that I was... that it was... but then you were nice to me and I was so confused."

 

"I was never angry with you for that, Wesley," Giles reassured him. "I love the way you respond to my touch. I love knowing that you want me."

 

"I do," Wesley said, desperately. "I do."

 

"There's no need to be ashamed anymore," Giles said softly. "You're mine. It's only right that you want my touch, my body, my cock. I'd worry if you didn't."

 

"I want you so much," Wesley said, holding the phone tightly. Even through his confession he'd remained hard, and now that he'd come to the end of it he felt even more desperate for Giles. "Please come home. Please."

 

Giles hesitated, longing to go to Wesley, but knowing it would seem strange if he left the school in the middle of the day. "I really can't leave the library," he said regretfully. "But I have an idea. I believe there's pen and paper in the nightstand, if you'd be so good as to get it out."

 

Wesley went through the drawer. "I've found them," he said.

 

"Good," Giles said. "Now, until I come home I want you to write down everything you can remember that I've done to you, every way I've touched you, that you enjoyed. Write down exactly how it made you feel. And if you finish with that, I want you to start writing things you'd like me do to you. Even if it's as simple as fucking you again."

 

Wesley sniffed again, and smiled. "I can do that."

 

"Good," Giles said. "Do you think you'll be all right now, or shall I stay on the line a bit longer?"

 

"Could you tell me about your day?" Wesley said, not wanting to hang up yet.

 

"I'm afraid it hasn't been terribly exciting," Giles said. "I spoke with Buffy briefly this morning, told her you were feeling a bit worse from training than you'd initially thought. And I shelved quite a few books."

 

"A librarian's work is never done?" Wesley said, lightly joking.

 

Giles chuckled. "Unfortunately, no."

 

There was a pause in the conversation. Wesley had a thought. "Do you think, perhaps, you could tell me what you like? Sometime, I mean."

 

"What do you mean?" Giles asked.

 

"I want you to be happy. I want to please you," Wesley said.

 

"You mean physically?" Giles was a bit confused.

 

"However I can," Wesley said. "I'm sorry, I'm probably not explaining this very well."

 

"It's all right," Giles said. "I'll tell you when I want something from you. You needn't worry about it."

 

"All right," Wesley said, a bit relieved despite having made the offer to begin with. "I'll have the list ready for you when you get home. I don't suppose you could get away early?"

 

"Doubtful, as we had to cut training short yesterday. But I'll do my best," Giles promised.

 

"Thank you," Wesley said. He wanted Giles here with him, now, but he could wait.

 

"I can't promise anything," Giles repeated. "Now why don't you get to work on that list? I expect it'll be quite long by the time I get home."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley said, smiling. "As long as I can make it."

 

"Good," Giles said. "I'll see you this afternoon." At Wesley's acknowledgement, he hung up the phone.


PART NINETEEN: The List

 

The first thing Wesley put on the list was 'Being fucked.' His hand shook as he wrote the forbidden words, and he had to calm himself with a long drink of water afterwards. Wesley's life was immersed in writing, in language, and the words had a solid reality to them that the act itself did not. He stared at the paper for a long while, simply letting it sink in.

 

The next thing he wrote was 'Sucking your cock,' and that made him blush terribly hard. He chuckled at himself, barely believing he was writing such a thing, much less meaning it. It was so... illicit. To take a cock into your mouth, to swallow another man's come, and to do it willingly, eagerly. To beg for it. On a whim, he wrote down 'Begging' as the third item, and then added 'for you' after it.

 

'Being held,' came fourth. He loved being in Giles' arms, feeling safe and protected. If not loved, then cared for, adored. That inspired 'The way you talk to me'--Giles called him beautiful, good, wonderful. And the dirty things, too: the way Giles told Wesley--no, promised him such deliciously naughty and degraded acts. After a lifetime of monastic repression, he felt ravenous for as much sensation and sex as possible. Anything Giles would give him, he accepted greedily.

 

That particularly included 'Being tied up.' It was when he was bound that Wesley could struggle, and the struggle was glorious. He was held even more securely than he was in Giles' arms, and with the ropes, struggling had actually made his bindings tighter, which had in turn egged him on. He was bound to the bed even now, because Giles didn't want him to leave for any reason at all, no matter what. No one could take him away from Giles, by any kind of force. He thrilled at the thought of someone trying, of Giles fending them off.

 

He noticed that his erection was arched proudly now, and squirmed happily. 'Being aroused' went on the list. The constant state of desire distracted him from his fears and concerns, drawing his body and mind away from the world and into the intimacy of being close to Giles, even if Giles couldn't be physically there. 'Your touch,' he added, and followed that with 'Being marked.' When Giles wasn't there, Wesley had his physical reminders, undeniable: the marks from the belt and the rope, the dried come on his chest. The cuffs on his wrists and ankles, too. He wrote 'Wearing your cuffs' for good measure.

 

He nibbled thoughtfully on some crackers while he considered the things he wanted, then started a second list on a fresh sheet of paper. The first item was something Giles had promised him: 'A collar.' That made him flip back and add 'Being owned' to the first list. Both made him feel like a prized possession. Something valuable to be protected and looked after. He added 'Being fed' to the first list as well.

 

It was more difficult to think of things he didn't have but wanted, than of things he had and wanted more of. 'To be yours forever' was added as the second item, but it wasn't very tangible. His lack of sexual experience wasn't helping. After the magazine incident, his father had kept him on the very straight and narrow. He hadn't even been allowed to masturbate for quite some time, in case he might be thinking of something other than girls when he did it. There had been arranged dates with girls of a suitable background when he was older, but he'd always felt awkward and undesirable. And even when he was away from his father at the Academy and living on his own after graduation, he'd felt his father's presence when his thoughts would stray towards lustful things. His only escape was to block out such thoughts even more, to throw himself into being with women, but even that wasn't entirely successful. He'd still looked. Still wanted, if only in his dreams and in half-thoughts when he'd wanked himself off in his bed.

 

He shook off his melancholy wandering and focused on the job at hand. What else had Giles spoken of, that Wesley had wanted? Obscene things. 'To be watched.' Did he dare write that down on the second list? He bit his lip, uncertain, and then did so very slowly. He couldn't imagine it actually happening, but he had to admit he did want it. People always looked at him as if they knew what he was anyway, knew of his desires, that he wasn't a normal man. It would be freeing to no longer have to hide anything. Let them look, and see everything.

 

He went back over the first list, seeking inspiration. A mere dozen items, but they each signified so much. It was a bit of a cop out, but he added 'More of everything on the first list' as the second's fourth item. It was honest, at least, and Giles liked honesty.

 

With that, he decided to take a break from the lists for a while. He ate some more, finished off his glass of water, and then chose a book from the stack Giles had left for him. It was an American detective novel by Dashiell Hammett, The Thin Man. He held it slightly above his body, so as not to aggravate his bruises, and was soon caught up in the story.

 

Giles went back to work, still restless but feeling a bit better for having spoken to Wesley. He mulled over some of the things Wesley had told him in the back of his mind, but there was little he could do about things that had happened in the past. He was also forced to acknowledge that Wesley wouldn't be the delightful pet he was without his father's influence. Still, Giles thought, if he ever saw the man in person again, he'd probably end up hitting him in the face.

 

Eager to return home to Wesley, Giles urged Buffy into starting training on time, for once, and they were finished earlier than normal.

 

Wesley managed to get about halfway through the book before he had to rest his arms and hands. He felt the beginnings of an urge to piss, but decided to wait until Giles returned home rather than use the bowl. He couldn't think of anything else to put on the list, so he ended up channel surfing until he heard the door open downstairs.

 

Giles put his things on the desk and headed straight up the stairs to see Wesley. He smiled as his eyes fell on Wesley's naked form reclining in bed. "Hello," he said softly.

 

Wesley turned to Giles with a wide smile. "Hello," he replied.

 

Sitting sideways on the bed next to Wesley, Giles leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. "I'm sorry I had to leave you for so long."

 

"You're here now," Wesley said, looking adoringly at Giles. "That's all that matters."

 

"Hmm," was all Giles said in acknowledgement. He reached out and fondled Wesley's cock and balls playfully.

 

Wesley sighed contentedly. "I finished the lists you asked for." He picked up the papers and handed them to Giles for inspection. "I'm sorry they're not longer."

 

Giles glanced them over. "That's all right," he said. "This is quite a lot for you, isn't it?"

 

Wesley nodded. "I never let myself think about what I wanted, in case I thought about... you know. Other boys. Men. It's all rather new."

 

"Yes," Giles said. He stroked Wesley's hair briefly. "I'm proud of you for being able to express your desires."

 

Wesley gave him a grateful smile. Such acceptance was also a new and wonderful thing for him, and meant a great deal. He shuffled forward and hugged Giles, only a little tentatively.

 

Giles chuckled and returned the hug gently, not wanting to put any more pressure on Wesley's bruises than necessary. "You're a good boy," he affirmed.

 

Wesley felt a glow of happiness. He squeezed Giles tightly, not minding the discomfort.

 

Giles kissed Wesley's face a few more times, wanting to encourage Wesley's openness and affection, then reluctantly extracted himself from the embrace.

 

Wesley sat back, with only a hint of the shyness he would have normally felt. "Did training go well?"

 

"As well as ever," Giles said. "We were at least able to get started earlier than usual."

 

"That's good," Wesley said, then paused. "What do you think? About the lists?"

 

"I see nothing there that I don't fully intend to give you," Giles said.

 

"All of it? Even the second list?" Wesley said.

 

Giles nodded. "Oh, yes."

 

"I wasn't certain about... about the watching," Wesley admitted.

 

"There are places for that sort of thing," Giles said. "Though we'll probably have to go to Los Angeles to find one."

 

Wesley nodded.

 

"I'll take you to one someday," Giles promised.

 

"It sounds exciting," Wesley said. "Are they... dangerous?"

 

"They can be," Giles said. "But I'll be with you the whole time."

 

"My protector," Wesley said, chuckling faintly at his own words.

 

Giles didn't join in Wesley's laughter. "Yes," he said seriously.

 

"Will you really?" Wesley asked, sobering. "Protect me?"

 

"To the best of my ability," Giles said, still perfectly serious.

 

Wesley didn't quite know what to say. Giles seemed to be giving him everything he'd ever needed, whether he'd been aware of it or not. It left him dizzy and amazed when he tried to take it all in. He looked down at the bed and twisted the sheet in his fingers. "Sometimes I think that I'm going to wake up, and none of this will have happened. That I'm dreaming it."

 

"Surely it's not so perfect as that," Giles murmured self-consciously. "I do rather delight in seeing you suffer..."

 

"It doesn't matter," Wesley said, shaking his head. "Sometimes it feels... necessary, to hurt. And everything else is so..." He felt himself tear up a bit from the emotions welling up inside. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

 

Giles sat stunned, mouth hanging open slightly, not breathing. Abruptly, he sucked in a breath, then stood and dashed downstairs, going into the bathroom and closing the door behind him, needing the physical barrier between himself and Wesley. He slumped back against the door with a soft "oomph" and put his face in his hands.

 

Wesley gaped in utter bafflement. "Giles?" he called, worried. Had he said something wrong? He'd thought Giles would be happy. He struggled out of bed and to his feet, and then staggered forward as far as the chain would allow. "Giles?" he called again. When there was no answer he sat down on the floor, completely at a loss.

 

Giles wasn't sure what was wrong with him. Wesley's words had gone straight to his core, leaving him shaken. Part of him was angry with Wesley, wanted to hurt him until he was broken, bleeding, wrecked--far worse than what he'd done with the belt. Even that first night, after Balthazar, Giles hadn't felt such primal rage towards Wesley, and it frightened him. The rest of him couldn't bear the thought of losing Wesley's loyalty--could it really be love?--even if it was sick and twisted and so very wrong. Even in such a short period of time, he'd come to depend on it. It was as addictive as any drug he'd ever taken.

 

He stood for several minutes, breathing shallowly, trying to reconcile the two opposing urges, until gradually the anger faded to a manageable thrum in the back of his mind. He washed his hands vigorously, still feeling a bit unsteady, and went to face Wesley again. The younger man was probably going out of his mind.

 

Wesley heard noises downstairs and stretched himself as far as he could, trying to see down the steps. He was worried: that he'd said something wrong, or that Giles was physically ill somehow. He was flat on his stomach, peering out, when he heard Giles footsteps on the stairs, and he struggled to his feet. "Giles? Are you all right?"

 

Giles approached Wesley slowly and pulled him into his arms, holding him as though afraid he might break him. "Shh," he murmured. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry."

 

Wesley returned the hug uncertainly. "Was it something I said? Are you hurt? Did Buffy hurt you?"

 

Giles wasn't sure what to say to Wesley, but settled for something close to honesty. "What you said... you make me feel such incredible things. It frightened me at first."

 

Wesley relaxed a little. "It scares me too, sometimes." It felt odd being the one to reassure Giles, rather than the other way around.

 

Giles smiled and nuzzled Wesley's hair. "My beautiful boy."

 

Wesley sighed and relaxed fully against Giles, relieved that Giles was feeling better. "Forever," he said, agreeing.

 

"You'll forgive me if sometimes I do terrible things to you?" Giles asked quietly.

 

"Always," Wesley said, meeting his eyes. "I... I think I love you."

 

Giles closed his eyes for a moment, but this time there was no surge of irrational anger. "Thank you," he said, raising a hand to caress Wesley's face adoringly.

 

Wesley leaned into his hand. "I do. I love you, Giles." It was a release to finally express the feelings that had been building up in him.

 

Giles just kept caressing Wesley, trying to return the sentiment without words. He couldn't say it, wasn't sure he'd mean it if he did, but he didn't want to let Wesley's words go unacknowledged.

 

"It's all right if you don't," Wesley said, throat tight with emotion. "It's all right, because I know you care about me. It's enough that you care about me, you don't have to love me."

 

"You're mine," Giles said, because it was the best he could do. "I'll always take care of you."

 

Wesley sniffled, and then pulled Giles into a tight hug. A few tears escaped his eyes, and he rubbed his cheek against Giles' shoulder, drying it on his shirt.

 

Giles fought off a moment of worry about Wesley's injuries. If Wesley was willing to put up with the discomfort, who was he to complain? "Perfect," he murmured, tangling his fingers in Wesley's hair.

 

"I want to be," Wesley said, shakily. "I want to be perfect for you."

 

"You already are," Giles assured him.

 

"There are things I could do better. I can learn, if you'll teach me. I want to learn." Wesley thought about his lists, about the things he'd only just learned about. "Teach me how to please you."

 

"I will," Giles promised.

 

Wesley sank to his knees, his body sliding down Giles'. "Teach me how to suck your cock," he begged, the words even more strange out loud than they had been on paper.

 

Giles gazed down at Wesley in amazement. "Yes," he breathed, after a moment. "Take it out."

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley breathed, tearfully happy to do this for Giles. He remembered not to use his hands, and brought his mouth to Giles' trousers and began tugging at the fastenings.

 

Giles smiled contentedly as Wesley worked to free his cock. The world finally began to feel right again.

 

After a brief struggle Wesley had the belt and trousers undone, and another tug was all it took for gravity to take over. Wesley went to work on Giles' boxers, which followed to the ground in short order.

 

When Wesley looked at him for instruction, Giles said, "Start slowly. Lick first."

 

Giles' cock was still soft. Wesley began taking small licks, cat-like, along the shaft. He lengthened the licks as it hardened.

 

Giles made noises of enjoyment. "Be sure to spend some time on my balls," he said.

 

"Yes, sir," Wesley murmured. He nuzzled down into Giles' groin and began licking there. Giles' scent was strong, no doubt from the physical exercise he'd had with Buffy. Wesley inhaled deeply, taking it in. Giles' balls were likewise saltier than the last time Wesley had tasted them. It made him a little thirsty, especially as he hadn't drunk much all day, but he ignored it for now.

 

"Yes, I like that," Giles said after a while. "Take them into your mouth, too. Suck on them a bit."

 

Wesley drew the sac into his mouth. He felt the balls roll against his lips, and opened his mouth wider to pull them in. He pressed his mouth as close as possible to ease the process.

 

"Try one at a time," Giles suggested, his voice thick with pleasure. "But be careful with your teeth."

 

Wesley hummed his understanding and concentrated on one side at a time. He kept his jaw open as far as possible to keep his teeth out of the way.

 

"Mmm, much better." Giles closed his eyes and threaded his fingers into Wesley's hair, encouraging him.

 

Wesley suckled on one side for a while, taking as much as he could into his mouth and laving it with his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he switched to the other side, and then back again.

 

"All right," Giles gasped after a while, as the exquisite sensations Wesley was producing began to edge into the realm of overstimulation. His voice wasn't quite steady as he said, "That's enough of that. You'll want to go back to my cock again, try sucking on the shaft. I don't mind a bit of nibbling, but be very careful."

 

Wesley released Giles' balls. He took a moment to work his jaw, which ached a bit from being stretched so wide, and then moved on to the shaft as instructed. Wesley took careful note of each action Giles enjoyed, and what methods evoked the most reactions. He wanted to remember all of this for later, and try to do this for Giles without needing to be walked through it. Giles would like that, would appreciate it.

 

Giles moaned his pleasure to let Wesley know he was doing well and instructed him in which spots and techniques felt the best, before finally urging Wesley to take his cock into his mouth. "Just the head for now," he said. "Use the end of your tongue to stimulate it."

 

Wesley let the head rest in the opening of his mouth. He ran his tongue around it, and then began to toy with the foreskin, pushing it lightly back. This was his favorite part of sucking cock, when he was accepting Giles' cock into himself, and could taste and tease with ease.

 

Giles praised Wesley's attention to his foreskin, then urged him to tongue his slit and his frenulum, as well.

 

Wesley let the head slip deeper as he strengthened his efforts. He began to suckle more the further his tongue went.

 

"Good, good," Giles breathed as Wesley worked. "Keep moving your tongue. Humming is nice, too."

 

Wesley hummed, and was pleased at the reaction. It was a bit tricky, remembering to lick and hum and suck and all the other little things, but he'd always been an avid student. The complexity only made him more eager to learn.

 

After a few more minutes, Giles tightened his hand in Wesley's hair, holding him still. "When I start moving my hips, it means I want more. You should bob your head so that my cock is fucking your mouth. Take it in as far as you can. Eventually I'll teach you how to take it into your throat, so you can swallow it all the way. You're not ready for that yet, though."

 

Wesley hummed an assent. As Giles began to move, he slowly began to catch the rhythm of how to move with him. It was better with more of an arcing tilt than an outright bob, he discovered, as that was easier to perform and created a smoother motion. He allowed Giles' cock to go a fraction deeper with each completion of the cycle, until it was reaching the back of his mouth and almost at his throat.

 

"Careful not to gag yourself," Giles warned. "Or you can practice controlling your gag reflex. That's the key to swallowing my cock, after all."

 

Wesley whimpered faintly. Learning a new technique was one thing, and stopping his body's reflexes quite another. But he knew Giles would be disappointed if he couldn't manage it. He reluctantly pulled himself off Giles' cock so he could speak. "How do I practice?"

 

Giles looked down at him, confused, and too aroused to think very clearly. "I suppose... take my cock as far in as you can, and hold it for as long as you can. If you want to practice when you're not sucking me off, you could try putting your fingers in your mouth."

 

"All right," Wesley said. "I'll try." He took a deep breath, and then sank himself down on Giles' cock as far as was comfortable. Then when he was ready, he took it deeper, and then held it there. He could feel himself on the edge of gagging, but was able to hold it off for now.

 

"Swallow," Giles urged softly, desperate for more sensation.

 

Wesley swallowed. To his surprise it made it easier, lessened the gagging sensation. Breathing carefully, he swallowed repeatedly, trying to ease Giles' cock as deep as possible.

 

Giles groaned as Wesley's throat convulsed against his cock, knowing that it was only a ghost of what it would feel like to have his cock completely engulfed. The temptation to try to push Wesley further today was strong, but he resisted. Better to wait until he was sure Wesley could handle it.

 

Wesley swallowed Giles' cock as long as he could, but eventually had to ease off. He moved off completely so he could cough without hurting Giles, then when he was ready he took him back into his mouth again. It was easier the second time.

 

Giles ruffled Wesley's hair appreciatively. "Don't force it today," he said. "Let's worry about the fundamentals."

 

Wesley hummed, then moved back slightly so Giles' cock sat comfortably in his mouth. He focused on licking, suction, and humming instead of swallowing.

 

"Faster, now," Giles said. "You don't want to make me come too quickly, but if you take so long I have to finish it myself I'll be less pleased."

 

Wesley tried moving himself back and forward on Giles' cock, dragging his lips against the shaft and letting his tongue press against the head.

 

"More," Giles encouraged. "Think about how your hand moved when you were still permitted to wank."

 

Wesley whimpered at the reminder that he would never be allowed to touch his own cock ever again. He was suddenly aware of his own body again, of his hands behind his back and his erection. He moaned as he sped up, wrapping his tongue around the shaft and letting the head hit the back of his mouth.

 

Giles held himself still as Wesley worked, only occasionally guiding Wesley's movements with his hand. "I'm not going to warn you when I come anymore," he said hoarsely, his breath coming fast now.

 

Wesley whimpered again, and tried to pay close attention to Giles' movements. He knew how his own movements would become fast and erratic just before he came, and remembered Giles being the same. It wouldn't be long now. He fucked his mouth faster on Giles' cock, sucked harder, urging him on.

 

Giles actually did give Wesley a warning, just not a verbal one. He couldn't resist the urge to hold Wesley's head still and push all the way to the back of his mouth as he came, sending his come almost directly down Wesley's throat.

 

Wesley swallowed again and again around Giles' cock, eyes closed tight in concentration. With Giles' cock so far into him he had no choice but to hold his breath. When Giles finally released him, after a long minute, Wesley coughed and gasped as he got his breath back. He tasted come at the back of his mouth.

 

Giles played his fingers through Wesley's hair some more. "That's a good start," he said. "All you need now is practice, which I somehow doubt will be a problem. Eventually I'll teach you about tonguing my arse, as well."

 

"Thank you, sir," Wesley said, once his throat had calmed down again. "But... is that safe?"

 

"I'll make it as safe as possible," Giles promised.

 

Wesley shifted on his knees and winced. They really hadn't been up to this, unfortunately, and now that there were no more distractions they were making their complaints known.

 

Giles noticed Wesley's wince and extended a hand to help him up. "Come on, back to bed with you. The more you stress yourself the longer you'll take to heal."


PART TWENTY: Asking For It

 

Wesley stood with a groan. Giles helped him hobble back to bed and sit down. Wesley was terribly thirsty now, and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher, which was still full from when Giles had brought it up in the morning. He drank it down in one long pull, and then poured himself a second glass. Now that Giles was home he didn't have to worry about the bowl anymore anyway.

 

Giles looked at the state of the pitcher, then glanced at the bowl at the end of the bed. "Wesley," he chided, "haven't you had anything to drink all day?"

 

Wesley looked guiltily downwards. "I had some water."

 

"Not nearly enough," Giles observed. "You need to stay hydrated, especially while you're healing. I want you to finish this pitcher, and I'll bring you another."

 

Wesley raised the leg that was attached to the chain. "Can I go downstairs afterwards?"

 

"No," Giles said, "you've put enough strain on your knees tonight already. Best to keep it to a minimum until tomorrow."

 

Wesley made a face, but drank more water anyway. "I don't want to use that," he said, motioning to the bowl.

 

"I don't believe I asked if you wanted to," Giles said, with an edge to his voice that suggested Wesley would be facing consequences if he continued to argue.

 

Wesley pouted, but he knew a final answer when he heard one. He drank the rest of his water, then refilled again. He was starting to feel rather sloshy, and the pressure in his bladder was gradually becoming more insistent.

 

Giles topped off Wesley's glass with the little bit that was left in the pitcher and said, "I'm going to start dinner. Let me know if you need anything."

 

Wesley squirmed on the bed even as he sipped more water. He'd still held out some hope that Giles would take pity on him and allow him to use the loo, but if Giles was going downstairs and leaving him here...

 

Giles frowned at Wesley and headed down to the kitchen. He hadn't actually intended to force Wesley to continue using the bowl after he'd returned home, but the younger man's resistance irritated him. Wesley seemed to have forgotten his status, and that needed to be dealt with.

 

Even though Wesley had used the bowl once already today, he just couldn't seem to make himself use it again. It was just too undignified, too... unpleasant. Something in him rebelled at the action, forcing him to hold it in no matter how uncomfortable it became.

 

Giles made a quick dinner of leftovers from the last several nights and returned upstairs with the food and another pitcher of water for Wesley. He was dismayed to see that there was no more urine in the bowl on the floor than there had been when he'd left. He put down his burdens and looked at Wesley, tilting his head questioningly.

 

Wesley's muscles were trembling with the effort of holding in. By all rights he should have just relieved himself and been done with it, but he just couldn't. "I can't," he said, half-pleading.

 

Giles sighed in annoyance. "Wesley, come here. This resistance is pointless."

 

After a short, internal battle, Wesley tried to move, but he had to go so badly now that he was afraid he wouldn't make it. He shook his head, lips drawn thin with strain.

 

"Fine," Giles said tersely. He took two steps to the bed, wrapped one arm around Wesley's shoulders, holding him against his chest, and reached behind him with the other one, grabbing Wesley's crotch for leverage. With a grunt of effort, he picked Wesley up and swung him around to the end of the bed, where he deposited him on his knees.

 

The world had gone topsy-turvy as Giles bodily moved Wesley to the floor. He cried out softly as he landed on knees and fell forward. He was right above the bowl now. He tried to release his muscles but they felt locked in place despite, or perhaps because of the intense pressure. "I'm trying," he pleaded. "But I can't..."

 

Giles knelt beside Wesley and pushed him down onto his hands and knees. With one hand he gripped Wesley by the back of the neck, holding him down. The other hand reached under Wesley to massage his bladder cruelly.

 

The external pressure, and the feeling of Giles taking control, finally pushed him over. He cried out as he let go, surrendering himself to it. The firm hand holding his neck down was suddenly the answer to whatever it was that had compelled him to this. He whimpered softly, more out of submission than any mere physical relief.

 

Giles shook off Wesley's cock for him, then sprinkled baking soda in the bowl to minimize the odor, all without letting go of Wesley's neck.

 

"Very well," he said. "If you can't be trusted to take care of your own needs, you lose the privilege. From now on you're to ask my permission before relieving yourself."

 

Wesley ought to feel humiliated. He ought to fight back, to argue, but dear Lord, all he felt was satisfaction. It was madness, but he embraced any madness that felt this good. His cock had softened, but now it began to harden again, incited by the Giles' utter domination of him.

 

"You little slut," Giles said slowly, astonished, as he noticed Wesley's reaction. He pushed the bowl out of the way so that he could keep Wesley down without risking a mess. "You wanted this, didn't you? Wanted me to put you back in your place." He grabbed Wesley's half-hard cock.

 

"Yes," Wesley groaned. "Lord, yes."

 

Giles pushed down on Wesley's neck until Wesley was forced to press his face to the floor. At the same time, he tightened his grip on Wesley's cock. "I don't like being manipulated," he growled. "Since you connived your way into something you wanted, I'm going to take something else away."

 

Wesley grunted at the tight grip on his cock. His cheek ground against the carpet. He hadn't consciously meant to manipulate Giles, but he couldn't deny that that had been the result.

 

"Don't get up," Giles instructed as he let go of Wesley. He pulled Wesley's hands behind his back and hooked the wrist cuffs together. He tore a fresh sheet of paper from the notebook Wesley had been writing in and put it on the floor in front of Wesley. Then he scraped Wesley's portion of dinner onto the paper. "Eat," he said.

 

Wesley stared at the food, faintly horrified at the thought of eating off the floor, even with the paper in-between. He visibly wilted, in posture and erection, as he reluctantly picked a few bites off the top of the pile.

 

Giles felt a pang of guilt as he watched Wesley's shoulders slump miserably. He didn't want the boy thinking his life was going to be all fun and games, though. He needed a reminder that he wasn't here for his own enjoyment. Giles ate his own portion of food without really tasting it.

 

Wesley's appetite was almost nonexistent, but he forced down enough that he hoped would be satisfactory. He felt like such a fool. Why had he pushed, when he should have known what would happen. Giles would be angry with him, would probably punish him again, in the worst way. Giles would stop touching him and stop being nice at all and it would be like before. He was a bad pet, and no one wanted a bad pet.

 

By the time he finished his food, Giles couldn't bear to see Wesley suffer any longer. He knelt by Wesley and rubbed his back. "There," he said. "You didn't mean to anger me, did you?"

 

Wesley almost wanted to refuse the comfort, knowing it was certainly going to be taken away again. But he was weak, so weak. His chin trembled, and he shook his head.

 

"I know," Giles said. "And you've learned from your mistake now, haven't you?"

 

Wesley nodded. There was a terrible lump in his throat. He was waiting for the punchline, the cruel twist. Any minute now, Giles was going to say that it was too late for regrets, that he only had one chance to prove he was worth keeping and he'd failed miserably. The wait was almost worse than anything else.

 

"All right," Giles said, stroking Wesley's neck soothingly. "I forgive you. Be a good boy and finish your dinner, and then you can come back up to the bed."

 

'No you don't,' Wesley wanted to say, but he couldn't get the words out, and it'd only make things worse anyway. He was never forgiven. His failures were always there, hanging over him, waiting to be called upon should he ever have any pretense of accomplishment. Every good thing was only an excuse to remind him of the many failures that preceded it. He forced the rest of the food down and felt positively ill afterwards.

 

When Wesley had finished eating, Giles quickly swept up the few crumbs with his hand and tossed them into the bin with the paper he'd used. Then he took Wesley by the shoulders and urged him to stand.

 

Wesley stood, but he kept his head bowed and eyes down. He knew what was coming. It was what always came after the humiliation: the real punishment. To be yelled at, hit, locked up under the stairs... whatever was chosen, it was always consistently cruel.

 

Giles pulled Wesley into his arms much as he had earlier, but without the hesitance he'd suffered then. He kissed Wesley's face a few times. "You're still my boy," he assured Wesley. "I know you love me, and don't mean to do wrong."

 

Wesley shook his head, denying it. It was too hard to believe that Giles would forgive him just like that. No one ever forgave him.

 

Giles laughed softly. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you? Come on, now," he said, and reached down to play lightly with Wesley's cock and balls. "You've felt bad long enough. Let me make you feel good again. I've missed hearing all the little noises you make today."

 

Wesley didn't know what would be worse: if the kindness was just a trick, or if it was genuine. He was used to tricks, could deal with them, even if only in misery afterwards. Kindness simply undid him. The lump in his throat finally burst out with a sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he cried, face crumpling. "Don't make me go away, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry!"

 

Giles sat on the bed and pulled Wesley down with him, cradling the younger man's head against his chest. "Shh," he said. "I thought we dealt with this yesterday. I don't want you to go anywhere. After all, I'd only be depriving myself."

 

"You don't mean it," Wesley sniffed. "I upset you. I'm... I'm bad."

 

"No, you're not," Giles said. "You're very good. Your enthusiasm is commendable."

 

It was such an odd thing for Giles to say that it finally distracted Wesley from how miserable he was about to be. "My enthusiasm is commendable?" he asked, not sure whether to laugh or frown or raise an eyebrow or pretend he hadn't heard it after all.

 

"You were so eager to be shown your place. That's not a bad thing. I rather hated to punish you, but I wanted you to understand that I won't tolerate manipulation." Giles looked at Wesley with a regretful smile.

 

Wesley looked away, ashamed. "I didn't realize," he said, quietly. "Not until you had your hand on my neck. I don't know why, I just... needed it. You."

 

Giles nodded. "I understand. I was perhaps a bit harder on you than you deserved. I apologize for that."

 

Wesley turned back to Giles with disbelief.

 

Giles couldn't help laughing at Wesley's expression. "Don't looked so shocked. I acted in anger, and I shouldn't have."

 

Wesley frowned, confused. Of course Giles acted in anger. Wesley's actions had made Giles angry, therefore Giles punished him. The only strangeness was that now Giles was being so nice. "You don't need to pretend," Wesley said, averting his eyes. It was talking back, another sin, but he couldn't stop himself.

 

Giles turned Wesley's face towards him, trying to understand what he was asking. "Pretend what?"

 

"That I didn't deserve it. Or worse," Wesley said, quietly.

 

"Nonsense," Giles said firmly. "Whether you deserved is a bit of a moot point now, but it was more than sufficient to get my point across."

 

Wesley said nothing, just nodded once.

 

"Believe it or not, Wesley," Giles said patiently, "I dislike seeing you unhappy."

 

Wesley wanted to believe that. He truly did. "Even if I'm bad?" he asked.

 

"Yes," Giles said, running his fingers through Wesley's hair. "Even if you're bad."

 

"I don't mean to be," Wesley said, quietly. "I want to make you happy."

 

"I know," Giles assured him. "And you do."

 

"I'm sorry that I made you angry. I am," Wesley insisted.

 

Giles pressed a finger to Wesley's lips. "Shh. That's enough. I believe you."

 

He hoisted Wesley further onto the bed, putting him on his back, and lay beside him, half-curling himself around Wesley's upper body. He resumed giving Wesley soothing caresses.

 

At first Wesley couldn't relax, couldn't seem to let go of his fearful certainty of further punishment. It was too far out of his experience to simply accept. But gradually Giles' soothing words and touches began to sink in, and he let the tension out with a shuddering breath.

 

Giles stayed there, comforting Wesley, for some time, and thought back on what had happened. His reaction really had been out of proportion to Wesley's offense. He supposed some of the irrational anger he'd felt earlier had carried over after all. It wasn't a bad thing that Wesley had enjoyed being reminded of his place, and now that he thought about it again, the way Wesley had responded pleased him. It was unrealistic to expect the younger man to be able to express his desires openly yet, especially given the conditioning he'd apparently had at home. Regret welled up in Giles' chest and he longed to find a way to make things right.

 

"Wesley," he murmured. "I want you to be proud to be my pet. The way you responded to me earlier was perfect--it was only what had led up to it that bothered me."

 

"I made a mistake," Wesley said, somberly. "It won't happen again, I promise."

 

"Don't be ridiculous," Giles said. "Of course you'll make mistakes. I'll correct you, and we'll go on. I don't know what your father demanded from you, Wesley, but I'm not him."

 

Wesley gaped at Giles for a moment, then shut his mouth with a click. He wanted to tell Giles that of course he knew Giles wasn't his father, but the truth was he knew he was expecting Giles to punish him as his father would have. Of course, if his father ever found out what Wesley was doing, he'd probably just stake Wesley and then chop off his head, finally declaring him a truly lost cause. His father would probably even prefer Wesley to be a vampire than... than this.

 

"Perfection, and nothing less," Wesley said, letting the words out. "That's what he wanted. I could never give it to him."

 

Giles just looked at Wesley steadily for a few minutes, letting the words sink in for both of them. "I like to think my expectations are a bit more realistic than that," he whispered, as though telling Wesley a grave secret.

 

"I don't want to disappoint you," Wesley explained. "I don't want to make you angry with me because I'm not good enough."

 

Giles brushed Wesley's hair back from his forehead. "Those are three very different things," he said.

 

"Sorry?" Wesley said, confused.

 

Giles took a moment to compose his thought clearly. "Anger is not the same thing as disappointment. And neither one necessarily equates inadequacy on your part."

 

Wesley frowned, trying to make sense of this. He knew Giles must mean what he said, it was just that the connections between them were so clear in Wesley's mind. Disappointment causes anger, which leads to punishment. It was one of the most constant things in his life, and it was difficult to imagine how that could change. "So you're saying... you won't be angry with me, if I'm not good enough?"

 

Giles had a brief struggle not to laugh. "No," he said. "I'm saying the opposite. I will be angry with you, and you'll still be good enough."

 

"Oh," Wesley said. He considered this new information, turning it this way and that in his mind to see if he could take it in. "Giles," he said, slowly, "Are you... proud of me?"

 

Giles frowned in confusion. "Haven't I said so?"

 

"Yes, but... tell me again?" Wesley asked. He hadn't been able to believe it before, but he wanted to try.

 

Giles laughed softly. "All right. I'm very proud of you. Look at these marks on you," he said, tracing the now-livid bruises on Wesley's chest. "You took all this for me." He hitched himself up into a sitting position so that he could survey Wesley's body fully. "You were magnificent--the way you suffered, the way you screamed. I'll never forget it."

 

Wesley ducked his head. "Magnificent?"

 

"Undeniably," Giles said with conviction.

 

Wesley glanced at the remaining traces of Giles' cum from the night before. His bruises were florid now, but he would heal and they would fade away. There would be nothing left to tell of the impact of that night.

 

Giles' eyes followed Wesley's gaze. "What do you think?"

 

"It's just..." Wesley shook his head.

 

Giles looked at Wesley curiously, waiting for him to finish.

 

"A month from now, everything will be gone," Wesley said. "The bruises, everything. Healed."

 

"I'd be concerned if they weren't," Giles said.

 

"Yes, of course," Wesley said, feeling a bit foolish. "I know. But... there'll be nothing. Like you were never there."

 

"Are you saying... you want to do it again?" Giles asked.

 

"No, but..." Wesley began. That night had been so intense, he doubted it could be duplicated. But that wasn't really the issue. He needed a reminder, something that would last, that couldn't be removed like the cuffs or the cockring. "I want something permanent."

 

continued


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