By The Numbers
Jan. 30th, 2007 02:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Dawn/Angelus, Dawn/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: rape, angst, mental abuse, character death
A/N: This is an AU fic in which Dawn is still the Key. However, she is with Buffy from Season One onward and is 16 in Season 3. Pay attention to those warnings, folks. This is a dark!fic and there is no happiness whatsoever here. Not even a smidgen. Read at your own risk...
Dawn woke up, body shaking from the force of her fear. It was the same nightmare every time. She sat up and swung her legs off the bed, hand straying to her neck and rubbing the scar there. The raised tissue was thick and lumpy under her fingertips, reminding her that sometimes, nightmares are real. She stood up and carefully, silently, walked to the bathroom.
She didn’t turn on the light, just glided through the darkness to the sink. Retrieving the cup that sat by the faucet, she ran herself a glass of water and gulped it down thirstily. Putting the cup down, she leaned over, hair covering her face, elbows resting on the edge of the sink. She couldn’t stop the nightmare and she couldn’t stop her post-action recap. Every time, and she still had to go over it in her head. Remembering and regretting, it was her ritual.
She’d been 13 when they moved here. All of her memories before that were false, but everything in Sunnydale had been real. Her first regret, that she couldn’t dismiss these memories as part of the monk made package. On some level she knew she ought to be glad because it had kept her safe from Glory. But who could be happy at having destroyed everything good in their life?
She’d known Buffy was The Slayer. Mom didn’t know until later, but Dawn had always been there, watching Buffy patch herself up after a night of patrolling, sneaking in covered in vamp dust. Too bad her sister couldn’t dust a single vampire when it counted, Dawn thought bitterly.
Even with all the scariness and danger, she’d envied Buffy. Her sister had two great friends, a mentor who cared for her, and a boyfriend. That last part had been critical. Dawn had been seriously swoony over the romance of it all. Two sworn enemies coming together in love to protect the world sounded so dramatic. What teenage girl could resist the Romeo and Juliet hotness of it all?
So when Buffy and Angel had broken up, it had crushed Dawn utterly. If those two couldn’t have their perfect love, what did that say about an ordinary girl like Dawn? She hadn’t known then what she was. She was just Dawn Summers then, not a mystical green glowy Key with the power to shape worlds. Just an ordinary girl and so when her sister’s ex-boyfriend showed up at her window one night, she hadn’t been afraid.
She knew he was a vampire, but he was a good guy, all souled up and regretful. He’d never hurt her. And that night, he hadn’t. He’d talked to her, explained that even though he wasn’t dating Buffy anymore, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t be around or that he wouldn’t care about her. It had been so sweet, how he took an interest in her and her feelings.
He kept fighting with Buffy, working towards his redemption. He killed the bad guys and protected the Scoobies. So how could anyone have known? Regret number two, and she searched her memories hard, trying to see something they’d missed, something that would have clued them in to what was to come. She never found anything, because he’d played a good game. But, still, it was regret number two.
She’d been sixteen. Buffy had moved to the dorms, still with great friends and a mentor and a boyfriend. A new one this time, normal and sweet and devoted. But Dawn didn’t mind this time because she was an official Scooby now. She did the research on Buffy’s orders that “Dawn stays clear of danger”. So, she didn’t have the typical Scooby training in Hellmouth defense. She’d been attacked. Vampires and her rescuer had been Angel.
He lit into Buffy, telling her she had no business keeping Dawn helpless. It had been so cool, watching Angel stand up for her right to fight. He’d offered to train her himself. Buffy agreed, on the condition that the training involve how to get clear and run for help. She refused to admit that Dawn could be a fighter. After all, Dawn was just an ordinary girl.
The first time it happened had been at the mansion. Angel had moved from his dingy apartment, saying he needed more space and privacy than a basement apartment offered. Nobody had questioned that, particularly after his break-up with Buffy. Too many memories, Willow opined wisely and they had all nodded. Who wouldn’t be sad, losing their one true love?
She went to Angel’s for training after school. He taught her T’ai Chi, and Jiu-jitsu, scoffing at Buffy’s demands for “running away training”. Little bite size morsels like Dawn needed all the weapons they could get, Angel claimed and she had nodded excitedly. That day had been sword training and she could laugh now at the perfect metaphor it made. She’d been standing in position, sword raised and helpless as a kitten when he touched her.
Behind her, large hands on her elbows to help her with her form. Another laugh and she knew what he’d said had been the truth. He had promised to always tell her the truth and that had been his most powerful weapon of all. The hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, then down her back. She’d closed her eyes, like he taught her, in order to find her center. The hands moved forward, touching her breasts, fingers tweaking her nipples.
“Keep your eyes closed, Dawn,’ he breathed in her ear and she’d obeyed. Just like that, she’d obeyed. Her nipples were stiff, tiny points of pleasure even as her mind screamed to run, to fight, to hide from the badness. He placed a soft kiss on her neck, right above the pounding of her pulse.
“That’s my good little girl,” he praised her as one hand drifted lower, slipping underneath the waistband of her training pants. Fingers pushing through flesh and his was insider her, spreading her apart and dragging moisture out of her to make his play easier.
She’d had her first orgasm like that, eyes closed and limbs trembling. He’d continued the lesson as if it had not happened, and she’d allowed it. She went home and didn’t tell anyone, not even her diary. Regret number three, and this one stung because he hadn’t told her not to tell. She just…couldn’t somehow. Some part of her refused to let the words leave her mouth, and so she’d stayed silent.
Back the next day for more training, and when he’d pinned her to the training mat, he kissed her. Lips and tongue invading her mouth, but she’d kissed back. She hadn’t wanted to, tried to force out a scream and didn’t. He kissed his way down her body, latching on to her little girl nipples and sucking them into his mouth. She made noise then, groans and mewls of excitement. Her stomach churned and her pussy gushed with fluid. He smiled and pulled her pants off gently, diving into devour her hairless mound with relish. She’d screamed, but not from the fear and loathing that ate at her heart. It was the scream of sexual fulfillment and ecstasy. Once again, she was his good girl and he dressed her and sent her home.
Every day at his house, he trained her a bit more. How to kiss him, how to display her body for his pleasure, how to bring herself off, how to bring him off, how to gobble greedily on his cock, taking it down her small throat and swallowing his cool salty seed. Oh yeah, she’d learned a lot from him. But nothing compared to the night he’d taken her virginity.
It was the first time she’d been to his house at night. He’d left her a note on her bed, telling her to come over. She’d gone, her will so beaten down she couldn’t separate his desires from her own. It had taken him a year, but he’d managed to make her his girl in truth. She belonged to him and hated it, hated him.
He was waiting in the shadows and she ran to him, fearful of displeasing him. Oh he’d taught her that quickly, not to make him wait or upset him. Nothing permanent, nothing that would show, not on the outside anyways. Harsh words, painful touches, and she no longer dared to try to flout him.
“Strip,” came the soft command and she did, artistically, erotically, enticing him as he desired.
He moved to a chair and motioned for her to stand in front of him. Soft fingers trailing up and down her body, flickers of electrical excitement chasing his touch. Her nipples painfully hard, cunt slippery wet, she stood still and allowed him to tease her. When he pulled her into his lap, she melted into him. Mouths meeting and tongues tangling, he lifted her slight weight up and she felt his prick touch the virginal entrance to her body. Funny part, that. By that time, they’d done almost everything else and she no longer felt like a virgin. But technically she was and this was, by his choice, the night to remove that small technicality.
He pushed down, his rigid length forcing its way in past the resistant barrier. She didn’t make a sound, though the pain had been excruciating. She no longer screamed inside her mind either. Whatever part of Dawn that still existed didn’t speak up much anymore. And when he began to rock her hips, she helped. When he asked for her gratitude, she thanked her rapist. She showed her pleasure at this violation by writhing and whimpering like the needy slut he called her.
And when Buffy came in, note fluttering and asking Angel what the emergency was, Dawn simply kept fucking him. Angel derided her sister, telling her he’d found a real woman now, who knew how to please a man. Unlike Buffy, Angel pointed out, his beautiful girl wasn’t a walking robot, but a warm sensual creature.
Dawn heard the tears, the pleas and the hurt, but she kept on riding his cock. He told her to turn on his cock so her sister to could watch them. She spun, feeling the almost painful pressure of his head on her spongy spot and moaned. He spread her legs, revealing her juicy pinkness to Buffy, fingers pulling on one nipple while his other hand manipulated her swollen clit. One orgasm after another ripped through her body, all while Buffy stared from her crumpled position on the floor.
Buffy fled after Angel started to cum, his balls emptying deep inside Dawn and running out to puddle on the floor. He’d fucked her a dozen times that night, in every position imaginable, in every orifice she possessed. He told her that he was her Daddy now, and that she was his Baby Girl. She had to promise never to leave him, to be his good girl and please him forever. She knew what that meant and when he left to retrieve her belongings from her house, she began to understand that she couldn’t leave him even if she wanted to. He owned her now.
Buffy died shortly thereafter. Grief had made her careless and one vampire got his real good day. Regret number four, of course. She hadn’t been able to explain to Buffy that she hadn’t wanted to do those things, hadn’t wanted to be his toy. Buffy died because of her and everything that followed had flowed from Buffy’s death. Xander and Willow being turned, Giles drinking himself to death, her mother’s suicide, all because she was the pawn of a Master vampire.
When Glory hit town, it had all come together. She was the Key, shaper of worlds and prized possession of Angelus. Angelus’ favored Childe, William the Bloody had taken down the Bitch Goddess, but not before explaining the since Dawn was no longer pure, she wouldn’t have opened Glory’s portal anyways. William, Slayer of Slayers, who had murdered her sister, earning a third notch on his belt. So Angelus had saved her, in a sick twisted way, because a pure and virginal Key would have opened all the portals at once. In her corrupted form, she could only open certain ones at certain times. Dawn wondered if regret number five should be that she hadn’t ended the world. Sometimes it was and it wasn’t. Sometimes regret number five was that she had been glad that she wasn’t pure enough to destroy the world. Nope, corrupt Dawn didn’t end worlds, just the lives of those she loved. Regret number five could be tricky.
Angelus, not Angel because Angel had died the night he took Buffy’s virginity. He had been perfectly happy and his soul had taken flight. So everything after that night, the break-up, the training, all of it had been a part of Angelus’ plot to destroy her sister and take back his power. And after that had happened, after Buffy had died and Glory had been dispatched, it had all changed again.
William had taken one look at her and smirked, saying “So that’s where Drusilla got to, eh? Had been wonderin’ about that, after Prague. Right clever of our Dark Princess, pushing part of herself into the Slayer’s kid sis.”
That had answered that. She wasn’t really Dawn, but Dawn plus mad vampiric Childe of Angelus. Her obedience, her lack of will, it had been Drusilla’s control over her. So really, she was the pawn of not one or two vampires, but three. Two on the outside and one on the inside. Angelus hadn’t minded sharing her with his Childe, and they both fucked her often, to her delight and disgust.
Her Daddy and her sweet Prince, as she had to call them. No orders anymore, for Drusilla’s compulsions plus her own training pretty much ruled her now. Angelus delighted in dressing her in an erotic parody of a child, in sheer pinafores that showed her nipples and revealed her still smooth pussy. He kept her hair in braids or pigtails and enjoyed defiling her now non-existent innocence. William preferred to treat her as a living doll, and would often simply lay her down and position her near him while he read or wrote, keeping a few fingers inside her, churning her thick cream and having her lick it off. He rarely talked to her or even acknowledged she had a voice at all. Unless he was fucking her, then he liked a lot of noise. She always obliged him.
Footsteps now and she raised her head up, staring straight ahead. The final part of the ritual now, and somehow not as bad as counting up her regrets. She turned and hopped up onto the countertop, legs spread. Naked as usual, for Angelus didn’t permit his darling girl to sleep in clothes. He preferred to have her ready for him at all times, and didn’t appreciate having to remove clothes to get to what he wanted.
“Are you okay, Baby Girl,” he asked tenderly, smoothing her hair away from her face.
“Yes, Daddy,” she answered softly.
“Daddy worries about you when you aren’t next to him. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to my Precious,” he scolded as he thrust his cock into her wet and waiting pussy.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,”she apologized, beginning to gasp from the force of his pounding.
“You’re such a good girl. My good little fucktoy,”he whispered as she convulsed around him.
“Aww, Sire. Starting without me again,” William’s voice complained.
“Just comforting our best girl, “ Angelus answered. “Wouldn’t want her to think we didn’t love her.”
“Do love ya, Dawnie,”William told her, walking over to begin playing with her. “The best slut I’ve ever had, pet.”
Angelus lifted her up and William’s cock joined his Sire’s inside her still tight passage. They loved to fuck her together almost as much as they loved to fuck her separately. The little bit of Dawn still left was just glad William hadn’t chosen to fuck her ass. He always made it hurt.
“Love you too,” she sobbed,”I love you too.” They bit her, sucking down her blood and she screamed out her pain and her love. And if they couldn’t tell she wasn’t talking them, it didn’t matter. Finally, she could finish because that was regret number six. It no longer mattered.
The End
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: rape, angst, mental abuse, character death
A/N: This is an AU fic in which Dawn is still the Key. However, she is with Buffy from Season One onward and is 16 in Season 3. Pay attention to those warnings, folks. This is a dark!fic and there is no happiness whatsoever here. Not even a smidgen. Read at your own risk...
Dawn woke up, body shaking from the force of her fear. It was the same nightmare every time. She sat up and swung her legs off the bed, hand straying to her neck and rubbing the scar there. The raised tissue was thick and lumpy under her fingertips, reminding her that sometimes, nightmares are real. She stood up and carefully, silently, walked to the bathroom.
She didn’t turn on the light, just glided through the darkness to the sink. Retrieving the cup that sat by the faucet, she ran herself a glass of water and gulped it down thirstily. Putting the cup down, she leaned over, hair covering her face, elbows resting on the edge of the sink. She couldn’t stop the nightmare and she couldn’t stop her post-action recap. Every time, and she still had to go over it in her head. Remembering and regretting, it was her ritual.
She’d been 13 when they moved here. All of her memories before that were false, but everything in Sunnydale had been real. Her first regret, that she couldn’t dismiss these memories as part of the monk made package. On some level she knew she ought to be glad because it had kept her safe from Glory. But who could be happy at having destroyed everything good in their life?
She’d known Buffy was The Slayer. Mom didn’t know until later, but Dawn had always been there, watching Buffy patch herself up after a night of patrolling, sneaking in covered in vamp dust. Too bad her sister couldn’t dust a single vampire when it counted, Dawn thought bitterly.
Even with all the scariness and danger, she’d envied Buffy. Her sister had two great friends, a mentor who cared for her, and a boyfriend. That last part had been critical. Dawn had been seriously swoony over the romance of it all. Two sworn enemies coming together in love to protect the world sounded so dramatic. What teenage girl could resist the Romeo and Juliet hotness of it all?
So when Buffy and Angel had broken up, it had crushed Dawn utterly. If those two couldn’t have their perfect love, what did that say about an ordinary girl like Dawn? She hadn’t known then what she was. She was just Dawn Summers then, not a mystical green glowy Key with the power to shape worlds. Just an ordinary girl and so when her sister’s ex-boyfriend showed up at her window one night, she hadn’t been afraid.
She knew he was a vampire, but he was a good guy, all souled up and regretful. He’d never hurt her. And that night, he hadn’t. He’d talked to her, explained that even though he wasn’t dating Buffy anymore, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t be around or that he wouldn’t care about her. It had been so sweet, how he took an interest in her and her feelings.
He kept fighting with Buffy, working towards his redemption. He killed the bad guys and protected the Scoobies. So how could anyone have known? Regret number two, and she searched her memories hard, trying to see something they’d missed, something that would have clued them in to what was to come. She never found anything, because he’d played a good game. But, still, it was regret number two.
She’d been sixteen. Buffy had moved to the dorms, still with great friends and a mentor and a boyfriend. A new one this time, normal and sweet and devoted. But Dawn didn’t mind this time because she was an official Scooby now. She did the research on Buffy’s orders that “Dawn stays clear of danger”. So, she didn’t have the typical Scooby training in Hellmouth defense. She’d been attacked. Vampires and her rescuer had been Angel.
He lit into Buffy, telling her she had no business keeping Dawn helpless. It had been so cool, watching Angel stand up for her right to fight. He’d offered to train her himself. Buffy agreed, on the condition that the training involve how to get clear and run for help. She refused to admit that Dawn could be a fighter. After all, Dawn was just an ordinary girl.
The first time it happened had been at the mansion. Angel had moved from his dingy apartment, saying he needed more space and privacy than a basement apartment offered. Nobody had questioned that, particularly after his break-up with Buffy. Too many memories, Willow opined wisely and they had all nodded. Who wouldn’t be sad, losing their one true love?
She went to Angel’s for training after school. He taught her T’ai Chi, and Jiu-jitsu, scoffing at Buffy’s demands for “running away training”. Little bite size morsels like Dawn needed all the weapons they could get, Angel claimed and she had nodded excitedly. That day had been sword training and she could laugh now at the perfect metaphor it made. She’d been standing in position, sword raised and helpless as a kitten when he touched her.
Behind her, large hands on her elbows to help her with her form. Another laugh and she knew what he’d said had been the truth. He had promised to always tell her the truth and that had been his most powerful weapon of all. The hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, then down her back. She’d closed her eyes, like he taught her, in order to find her center. The hands moved forward, touching her breasts, fingers tweaking her nipples.
“Keep your eyes closed, Dawn,’ he breathed in her ear and she’d obeyed. Just like that, she’d obeyed. Her nipples were stiff, tiny points of pleasure even as her mind screamed to run, to fight, to hide from the badness. He placed a soft kiss on her neck, right above the pounding of her pulse.
“That’s my good little girl,” he praised her as one hand drifted lower, slipping underneath the waistband of her training pants. Fingers pushing through flesh and his was insider her, spreading her apart and dragging moisture out of her to make his play easier.
She’d had her first orgasm like that, eyes closed and limbs trembling. He’d continued the lesson as if it had not happened, and she’d allowed it. She went home and didn’t tell anyone, not even her diary. Regret number three, and this one stung because he hadn’t told her not to tell. She just…couldn’t somehow. Some part of her refused to let the words leave her mouth, and so she’d stayed silent.
Back the next day for more training, and when he’d pinned her to the training mat, he kissed her. Lips and tongue invading her mouth, but she’d kissed back. She hadn’t wanted to, tried to force out a scream and didn’t. He kissed his way down her body, latching on to her little girl nipples and sucking them into his mouth. She made noise then, groans and mewls of excitement. Her stomach churned and her pussy gushed with fluid. He smiled and pulled her pants off gently, diving into devour her hairless mound with relish. She’d screamed, but not from the fear and loathing that ate at her heart. It was the scream of sexual fulfillment and ecstasy. Once again, she was his good girl and he dressed her and sent her home.
Every day at his house, he trained her a bit more. How to kiss him, how to display her body for his pleasure, how to bring herself off, how to bring him off, how to gobble greedily on his cock, taking it down her small throat and swallowing his cool salty seed. Oh yeah, she’d learned a lot from him. But nothing compared to the night he’d taken her virginity.
It was the first time she’d been to his house at night. He’d left her a note on her bed, telling her to come over. She’d gone, her will so beaten down she couldn’t separate his desires from her own. It had taken him a year, but he’d managed to make her his girl in truth. She belonged to him and hated it, hated him.
He was waiting in the shadows and she ran to him, fearful of displeasing him. Oh he’d taught her that quickly, not to make him wait or upset him. Nothing permanent, nothing that would show, not on the outside anyways. Harsh words, painful touches, and she no longer dared to try to flout him.
“Strip,” came the soft command and she did, artistically, erotically, enticing him as he desired.
He moved to a chair and motioned for her to stand in front of him. Soft fingers trailing up and down her body, flickers of electrical excitement chasing his touch. Her nipples painfully hard, cunt slippery wet, she stood still and allowed him to tease her. When he pulled her into his lap, she melted into him. Mouths meeting and tongues tangling, he lifted her slight weight up and she felt his prick touch the virginal entrance to her body. Funny part, that. By that time, they’d done almost everything else and she no longer felt like a virgin. But technically she was and this was, by his choice, the night to remove that small technicality.
He pushed down, his rigid length forcing its way in past the resistant barrier. She didn’t make a sound, though the pain had been excruciating. She no longer screamed inside her mind either. Whatever part of Dawn that still existed didn’t speak up much anymore. And when he began to rock her hips, she helped. When he asked for her gratitude, she thanked her rapist. She showed her pleasure at this violation by writhing and whimpering like the needy slut he called her.
And when Buffy came in, note fluttering and asking Angel what the emergency was, Dawn simply kept fucking him. Angel derided her sister, telling her he’d found a real woman now, who knew how to please a man. Unlike Buffy, Angel pointed out, his beautiful girl wasn’t a walking robot, but a warm sensual creature.
Dawn heard the tears, the pleas and the hurt, but she kept on riding his cock. He told her to turn on his cock so her sister to could watch them. She spun, feeling the almost painful pressure of his head on her spongy spot and moaned. He spread her legs, revealing her juicy pinkness to Buffy, fingers pulling on one nipple while his other hand manipulated her swollen clit. One orgasm after another ripped through her body, all while Buffy stared from her crumpled position on the floor.
Buffy fled after Angel started to cum, his balls emptying deep inside Dawn and running out to puddle on the floor. He’d fucked her a dozen times that night, in every position imaginable, in every orifice she possessed. He told her that he was her Daddy now, and that she was his Baby Girl. She had to promise never to leave him, to be his good girl and please him forever. She knew what that meant and when he left to retrieve her belongings from her house, she began to understand that she couldn’t leave him even if she wanted to. He owned her now.
Buffy died shortly thereafter. Grief had made her careless and one vampire got his real good day. Regret number four, of course. She hadn’t been able to explain to Buffy that she hadn’t wanted to do those things, hadn’t wanted to be his toy. Buffy died because of her and everything that followed had flowed from Buffy’s death. Xander and Willow being turned, Giles drinking himself to death, her mother’s suicide, all because she was the pawn of a Master vampire.
When Glory hit town, it had all come together. She was the Key, shaper of worlds and prized possession of Angelus. Angelus’ favored Childe, William the Bloody had taken down the Bitch Goddess, but not before explaining the since Dawn was no longer pure, she wouldn’t have opened Glory’s portal anyways. William, Slayer of Slayers, who had murdered her sister, earning a third notch on his belt. So Angelus had saved her, in a sick twisted way, because a pure and virginal Key would have opened all the portals at once. In her corrupted form, she could only open certain ones at certain times. Dawn wondered if regret number five should be that she hadn’t ended the world. Sometimes it was and it wasn’t. Sometimes regret number five was that she had been glad that she wasn’t pure enough to destroy the world. Nope, corrupt Dawn didn’t end worlds, just the lives of those she loved. Regret number five could be tricky.
Angelus, not Angel because Angel had died the night he took Buffy’s virginity. He had been perfectly happy and his soul had taken flight. So everything after that night, the break-up, the training, all of it had been a part of Angelus’ plot to destroy her sister and take back his power. And after that had happened, after Buffy had died and Glory had been dispatched, it had all changed again.
William had taken one look at her and smirked, saying “So that’s where Drusilla got to, eh? Had been wonderin’ about that, after Prague. Right clever of our Dark Princess, pushing part of herself into the Slayer’s kid sis.”
That had answered that. She wasn’t really Dawn, but Dawn plus mad vampiric Childe of Angelus. Her obedience, her lack of will, it had been Drusilla’s control over her. So really, she was the pawn of not one or two vampires, but three. Two on the outside and one on the inside. Angelus hadn’t minded sharing her with his Childe, and they both fucked her often, to her delight and disgust.
Her Daddy and her sweet Prince, as she had to call them. No orders anymore, for Drusilla’s compulsions plus her own training pretty much ruled her now. Angelus delighted in dressing her in an erotic parody of a child, in sheer pinafores that showed her nipples and revealed her still smooth pussy. He kept her hair in braids or pigtails and enjoyed defiling her now non-existent innocence. William preferred to treat her as a living doll, and would often simply lay her down and position her near him while he read or wrote, keeping a few fingers inside her, churning her thick cream and having her lick it off. He rarely talked to her or even acknowledged she had a voice at all. Unless he was fucking her, then he liked a lot of noise. She always obliged him.
Footsteps now and she raised her head up, staring straight ahead. The final part of the ritual now, and somehow not as bad as counting up her regrets. She turned and hopped up onto the countertop, legs spread. Naked as usual, for Angelus didn’t permit his darling girl to sleep in clothes. He preferred to have her ready for him at all times, and didn’t appreciate having to remove clothes to get to what he wanted.
“Are you okay, Baby Girl,” he asked tenderly, smoothing her hair away from her face.
“Yes, Daddy,” she answered softly.
“Daddy worries about you when you aren’t next to him. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to my Precious,” he scolded as he thrust his cock into her wet and waiting pussy.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,”she apologized, beginning to gasp from the force of his pounding.
“You’re such a good girl. My good little fucktoy,”he whispered as she convulsed around him.
“Aww, Sire. Starting without me again,” William’s voice complained.
“Just comforting our best girl, “ Angelus answered. “Wouldn’t want her to think we didn’t love her.”
“Do love ya, Dawnie,”William told her, walking over to begin playing with her. “The best slut I’ve ever had, pet.”
Angelus lifted her up and William’s cock joined his Sire’s inside her still tight passage. They loved to fuck her together almost as much as they loved to fuck her separately. The little bit of Dawn still left was just glad William hadn’t chosen to fuck her ass. He always made it hurt.
“Love you too,” she sobbed,”I love you too.” They bit her, sucking down her blood and she screamed out her pain and her love. And if they couldn’t tell she wasn’t talking them, it didn’t matter. Finally, she could finish because that was regret number six. It no longer mattered.
The End