Scherehezade

by Kirayoshi

[reviews]

Disclaimer;
Buffy, Willow and anyone else that gets mention in this story is the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox(which should change their name, really, it's the Twenty-first century already!).

Author's note;
This is in response to Tim's Mental Training challenge. I took a few liberties with his ground rules, but the main gist of his idea is still there. This will be a little weirder, and a lot more sensual than my usual work. Here's hoping it works out.

Rating; NC-17(to be on the safe side)

Spoilers; Fifth season. This story takes place just before Buffy's twenty-first birthday, almost a year after "The Body" and "Forever".

Summary;
Willow takes extreme measures to protect Buffy from the Council and prepare her for the next stage in her development as this generation's Slayer.



Scheherezade
By Kirayoshi


"Buffy?"

"Willow!" I was half-asleep when I fumbled with the receiver to answer the phone and heard the sweet, sunny voice of my best-friend. **A lot sunnier than she had been a couple of months ago,** I recalled, thinking of how Tara's departure had hurt Willow. The red-haired Wiccan had claimed that their decision to break up their relationship had been mutually arrived at, but I knew that it still hurt her. I remembered all too well how my relationships had ended, first with Angel, then with Riley. Looking back, I realized that I was better off without either of them, but I still remembered the pain.

"Hey, Wills," I shook off my memories and concentrated on her friend on the other end of the line. "What's the up?"

"I need to see you tonight," Willow said simply. "It's important."

I paused to consider Willow's words. Her tone of voice seemed serious, but not grave, not like someone who was in danger, or in fear of some great evil. "How serious, Willow?" I asked her. "We talking 'Slayer' serious or 'best friend' serious?"

"Slayer serious," she answered. "Don't worry, not 'end of the world' serious or anything like that, but we really need to talk."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Sure, Willow. You want me over at your dorm, or should you come here?"

"I'd better come over," Willow explained. "It'll be an all-niter, so would Dawn mind if I slept over there?"

"No problem," I said, "Dawn's staying with a friend for the weekend, so it'll be just us girls. Maybe we can make it a movie night after patrol."

"Maybe," Willow said, "but I cleared it with Giles. You're off patrol for tonight."

"I can't tell you how not disappointed I am to hear that," I joked. But somehow I felt a little troubled by that announcement. Giles giving me a "Get Out of Patrol Free" card? That doesn't happen very often, and usually only in the case of the gang needing to take down the latest Big Bad. "Okay, Wills, you sure there's no big threat to the world on the horizon?"

"Nothing that I know about," she said calmly. "Oh, and since it's a sleepover, I hope you have some night clothes ready to wear."

"Oh? Like my sushi pajamas?"

"Uh," she demurred slightly, "if you have that green teddy you were modeling for me that night you were going to surprise Riley on his birthday. I'd really like to see that one."

Suddenly I was concerned. Since Willow came out of the closet a couple of years ago, it never occurred to me that she might be warm for my form, but I was starting to wonder. Nah, I dismissed the thought almost instantly. We were friends, she knew that I was straight, and we respected each other's preferences. I was worrying about nothing. "Sure, why not?"

"Great," she answered. "It's a date. Not date, as in you and me in a possible romantic thing, 'cause you'd be uncomfortable, and I'd be too stunned by your beauty, and we'd not get anything done. Not that I think of you that way, but well, you do look hot in a pair of blue jeans, and if you did give me any hint that you did lean that way I'd be over you like a wet T-shirt and I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"Don't sweat it, Wills," I smiled at her embarrassment, picturing how red her face must be right about now. So she did find me attractive, but still respected me too much to try anything. Somehow the fact that she found me desirable made me feel good. At least someone still did. "I can never get tired of Willow-babble. Is seven good for you?"

"I'll be there at seven, and I'll bring the pizza," she promised. She hung up, and I got ready for a fun evening with my best friend.

In a way, I was glad that she would be coming over. Maybe I could approach the topic of her break-up with Tara. She had been so good to me and Dawn after Mom died, I was hoping for the chance to make it up to her. Knowing her she'd just shy away from my efforts and say something like, 'Hey, friends don't keep count.' Thank God for that, because she's so far ahead of me on points in the best-friend department I don't have a chance of catching up.

Not that I wasn't going to try. Willow was worth it.

I had no idea how worth it until that night.

========

Willow showed up at seven, as promised, with a pizza box in one hand and a tote bag in the other. "Here we are, Buffy," she announced brightly, "one half pepperoni-sausage, one half bell pepper and extra cheese."

"Sounds good," I accepted the box and ushered her in. I noticed that she had done something with her hair, kind of different from the perm she had sported a year or so before, and her face seemed more made up than I was used to from her. Plus there was something strange, something I couldn't put my finger on. There was a gleam in her eyes I never saw before. Some strange knowing power lay dormant in her eyes. She seemed to scan me with her glance, to memorize me, to lay claim to me. I shuddered slightly and ignored these thoughts.

"So, Wills," I sat down on the sofa while she sat in a nearby chair. "What's up with your bad Wiccan self?"

"Well," she started, her shyness suddenly emerging. "I wanted to work with you on something. Kind of a witchy thing."

"Hey, I'm up for that," I admitted. "But why not call on Tara? I mean, she's a qualified card-carrying wiccan, I'm only the Slayer."

Willow chuckled as she shook her head. "Believe me, Buffy, there's nothing 'only' about you. And this project involves the Slayer. Giles and I dug it out of one of his Watcher books, it's a special ritual. Only the Slayer and a practiced mage can perform it."

I took her words at face value, and accepted them. "Okay, I'm game. What do we do?"

"First," she opened the lid on the pizza box, "we pig out. I just can't do magic on an empty stomach." I agreed with her wholeheartedly on that score, and soon we were scarfing pizza and drinking diet soda.

After the pizza was effectively demolished, Willow turned to me, saying, "Now, Buffy, I want you to put on that green teddy of yours. We must dress simply for the ritual. I brought my own slip with me, and some candles and incense to work with. I'll set up while you slip into your teddy."

"Okay," I said dubiously. Why the green teddy, she wouldn't say clearly, but I figured that Willow was the one person in this world I could trust unconditionally. I left for my bedroom and located the garment in question. I didn't really want to wear the teddy; I wore it for Riley the last night we made love. Not the highlight of my sexual history, considering that he was more interested in getting himself off at the time. Two days later, I saw him board a helicopter with some other soldiers, and never heard from him again. He went back to his life, and I knew now that I didn't want him in mine anymore. Oh well, life goes on. And maybe wearing the teddy for Willow may give it a happy memory after all.

A few minutes later, I stepped into the living room, feeling a slight chill from the air ducts. The lights were out, but I saw a faint glow ahead of me. "Willow?" I asked. "You set up those candles, I see."

Willow sat in the center of the floor, inside a ring of candles, their flames leaping brightly, dispelling the gloom from the circle. She wore a simple cream-colored robe, sheer silk, that accented her subtle curves quite nicely. *Tara was a fool for dumping her* I found myself thinking. She indeed looked both sensual and ethereal, like some incarnation of Venus. Her delicate skin seemed to take the candles' glow into it, shining brightly in the flickering flames.

"Buffy," she instructed me, "sit here, in front of me. Before this night is over, much will be made clear." I did as she bade me, sitting in lotus in front of Willow. I felt my heart race, my pulse quicken, as it often did whenever Willow had me participate in her magic. The tension was delicious, like opening a birthday gift from a favorite friend.

"May the Goddess bless us this night," Willow chanted, her eyes closed, as she lit the first stick of incense in front of her. "May she smile on our efforts, as we seek to further the mind and body of her servant, the Slayer. Let the bond be formed, let the covenant be fulfilled. So mote it be." The incense wafted into the air around us, giving the living room the smell of apple pies baking. Cinnamon, cardamom, and something resembling nutmeg. Smells designed to soothe, to put me at ease. My shoulders dropped, any tension I felt dissipated.

Willow handed me a metal goblet, filled with red wine. "Drink," she instructed. I took the goblet in my hands, and sipped the wine. It tasted a little tart, a bit acidic, but still sweet and warming. "You must drink deeply, Buffy," Willow answered.

"You mean 'chug it'?" I ventured. Willow nodded, so I took a good swig of the wine. Too much too fast, because I started to feel vertigo. The last time I felt this strange wave of nausea was when I went to a frat party, and the bartender gave us spiked beer, beer that turned me into a Neanderthal, the Cave Slayer. Willow carefully brought me to my feet, walked me over to the couch, and sat me down. "Oh dear, it's a good thing I was here to catch you, Buffy," she insisted, calming me as I tried to regain my equilibrium.

I shook off the last lingering effects of the wine, and looked around the room. Something had changed, imperceptibly, but still changed. "Okay, Wills," I insisted, "game over. What's really going on?"

"The Mental Training," Willow answered simply. "You have been prepared for a testing. This must take place before the Slayer turns twenty-one. Kind of like the Cruciamentum that Giles made you undergo when you turned eighteen, but without the vampire to endanger you."

I couldn't believe what she was saying. "You--you drugged me?" My hands formed into fists, and for the very first time in my life, I wanted to plant my fist into Willow's face. I screamed at her; "I want you out of my house now! GET OUT!"

"Sorry, Buffy," Willow said soothingly, "but that's not an option. Look for yourself." She drew the window blinds, showing me the view outside of the house. Shifting colors and patterns, with no discernible rhyme or reason. "We're outside of space and time, Buffy. No one will disturb us."

"You realize of course that our friendship is over!" I growled at her. "I can't ever forgive you for this! You remember what I went through when Giles made me face Kralik without my Slayer Strength!"

"I do know," Willow answered calmly. "That is why I insisted on handling this test. Giles couldn't do this, for reasons that I will explain. And he wasn't about to turn you over to the Council. He had no choice in this matter. If you don't undergo the Mental Training, the Council will have you killed and replace you with the next Slayer."

I stopped my mad tirade to listen to her words; did she do this for my sake? To protect me from the Council? The anger was still there, but less directed at her than at the council. "The Mental Training is like the Cruciamentum, a test of the Slayer's mind, to determine if her will is strong. But unlike the Cruciamentum, the test does not involve pitting you against a vampire. It will pit you against a more potent foe. Your own desires."

She stood before me, as I sat unbelieving at her. Her cream robe clung to her so smoothly that I doubted she was wearing a bra. God she was beautiful. What was I thinking?

"The wine contains a mild stimulant," Willow continued to explain, "designed to limit inhibitions. You see, the test is about your ability to resist sexual stimuli. Which I will be providing.

"You see, Buff, from the beginning of time it was known to the Watcher's Council that their warrior against the dark evil, the slayer, would eventually face warriors of darkness that were far superior than the slayer. In those battles the slayer's body would turn traitor, begging her to give up so she could die and the pain could cease. It would be a contest of wills and only the slayer's will to survive would make her victorious." As she spoke, she moved forward, slowly and sinuously.

"The task for the Council was to create a scenario that presented this contest of wills. The first scenario the Council members came up with, was like this: They would drug the slayer and take away her slayer powers. Then make her face a vampire alone and without
weapons. But in recent years, the Council ruled that test to be inhuman. Not to mention that they lost more Slayers that way. The Council members spend days figuring out a scenario in which the body would turn traitor against the mind. What could it be ... then it came to them: sex."

She sat slowly on the couch next to me. Her robe fell open, and I caught a brief glimpse of her breast before looking away quickly. I was starting to understand what she was trying to do, and it scared me. And excited me as well.

"The test is run like this; the person giving the test will try and seduce the Slayer, using only gentle caresses," she illustrated by stroking my left breast ever so slightly across the fabric of my teddy, "through blowing air," she blew gently into my ear, making me shiver deliciously, "or through words. Now you understand why Giles refused to give this test himself. He regards you as his foster daughter, and this would be like incest to him. And he couldn't allow a total stranger from the Council to perform the test. Angel's out of course, happiness clause and all that, and Anya would probably not approve of us using Xander. So I volunteered. It was the only way to keep the Council out of this."

I bent my head, slowly understanding what Willow was saying. "You gave up so much for me," I admitted, "to protect me from the Council. I'm sorry I yelled at you, Wills. But I can't go through with this. I won't force you to make love to me."

"Of course not," Willow smiled. "The idea is that I force you. And I will. The test will not end until you agree to let me fuck you."

"Fine," I chirped, reluctantly seeing an out. "Let's get it over with. You want to be on top, or me on top, or..."

"Uh-uh-uh," Willow scolded me. "It doesn't work that way." Her voice took on elements of a whisper, with husky overtones. "I have to seduce you. In order to complete the test, I must bring you to such a state that you will want me to fuck you, to let me bring you to orgasm. Not to simply get out of the situation, but because it's what you truly want more than anything. And I will do it too."

I looked at Willow, her resolve face firmly in place. She wasn't kidding.

Neither was I. "I'll fight you every step of the way, you know that, right?"

"I know," she growled at me, lustfully. "And you will fail."

========

For I don't know how long, I tried to sum up the situation. My house was somewhere outside of the physical world, outside of space and time. Willow was sitting with me, wearing a sleeping gown designed to accent her curves to their greatest advantage. And her intent was to seduce me.

It was a strange testing of my strength of will, she informed me. A variation on the Cruciamentum I suffered through three years ago, minus the vampire or the fear of death. No, this time instead of fearing death, I feared something far worse; losing my best friend.

I had my own issues regarding sexual preference for several years back now. Faith, man, she brought out something primal in me. Something neither Angel nor Riley ever could. Angel was the first love, the doomed love. Riley was the stable relationship, at least he was suppossed to be. But Faith, she was different. She was my walk on the wild side, my fantasy life. I never indulged that fantasy, fearing the consequences, then of course she killed Allen Finch, and the fantasy, the wild side, it all went sour.

Then there was Willow. Best friend. Bonding partner. According to my Classical Mythology class last quarter, the Greeks referred to Eros as the sexual desire, and Agape as the love of the soul, the purer love. Faith was Eros to me, while Willow was Agape.

Now Willow was trying her damnedest to be Eros as well. And a secret part of me wanted that as well.

I had wrestled with my sexuality for years. At some point, I finally decided that I was probably bi, leaning toward a preference to male. Okay. No problem.

Until right now, when I was being faced with about five feet two inches, one hundred and five pounds of pure sensual desire in red hair, assuring me that I will not be allowed out of my own home until she fucks me.

Oh, and she slipped something in my wine, some chemical designed to lower inhibitions. I wasn't sure if it was working on me at first, until she started to walk around me, her robe opened. She wasn't wearing anything under her robe. Not a stitch. I tried to avert my eyes from her body, but she called my name, breathily, calmly. "Is something the matter, Buffy?"

I should have gotten off the couch, ran up to my room and locked the door behind me. But I just couldn't get that idea across to my legs. Besides, something told me that I'd have more success dealing with Willow if I had a clear view of her location. Great, now I'm thinking of my best friend like she's the enemy. My opponent in this battle of wills. She, determined to have me. Me, just as determined that she wouldn't get me.

Even if I was wondering whether her having me was such a bad thing.

I tried to look at my feet, but my eyes turned traitor, and started to scan her body. From the delicate turn of her ankle, up the long slender legs, smooth swaying hips, torso, breasts, arms -- good, stay on arms, arms are safe, hands are safe, hands -- she saw my eyes focus on her hands, and moved her hands to gently rest at the juncture between her legs. Whoa! No need to ask if she's a natural redhead!

I never thought of Willow as being an exhibitioninst, certainly not to the extent that she was showing her body tonight. "Willow," I blurted out, "Please close your robe."

Willow looked at me with a strange mix of innocence and knowing desire. Oh God, she's not just doing this because she has to, she really wants me. Oh God! "What's the matter, Buffy? We're all girls here. We've undressed in front of each other before, when we were roommates. We know what we look like, no biggie."

"You never announced your intent to rape me before," I said under my breath. The sudden change in Willow's expression told me that she heard my poor choice of words. Her face hardened for only a second, then softened.

"Oh, Buffy," Willow cooed, almost sympathetically, but with that ever-present undertone of desire, "is that what you think I'm doing? Raping you? I hate that word, rape. It means forcing you, taking you against your will. I will not rape you, Buffy. I could never do anything like that." She leaned in closer as she sat down next to me on the sofa, giving me a better view of her breasts. I could smell the perfume she dabbed in that gentle valley, floral with a suggestion of sandalwood. Did she know the effect she was having on me? Of course she did, that was the point.

She gently took my hand, stopping me from squirming away from her. I could hear a faint voice in my head, oh so slight, **take her**. But I knew that if I gave in, I ran the risk of losing Willow. I could never let that happen. Not so soon after losing Mom. Dear God, give me the strength to resist her.

"Buffy," she purred as she pulled me in closer, ever so closer, into her embrace, "this is me talking to you. Willow Rosenberg. I love you, Buffy. You are, and always will be, my best friend. I would do anything for you, and would never betray you. And you know that what I say is true." She stroked my hand so gently, so softly. I swallowed hard, and firmed my resolve.

"Besides," she continued, "there's that Rule of Three to consider. You've heard of that, right? One of the prime rules for Wicca; whatsoever a witch does to another, either good or evil, comes back to them three times over. If I were to hurt you, I'd recieve that pain three times as bad." She stroked my hair with her hand, oh that felt so soft, so sweet. I couldn't tell her that, I had to fight her. That's what this test was about, right? Testing my will power?

"That is why I had to volunteer for this when Giles brought it up. He sees you as his daughter, not a potential lover. Xander is devoted to Anya. Angel, well, you know, happiness clause. And don't get me started on Riley. I ever see him again, I'm getting my shovel." We both chuckled at her promise. I slowly felt my anxiety fade, just the tiniest bit. "And I'd be damned before I let any of those bastards from the Council touch you, my sweet Buffy." She leaned in slightly, her fingers tracing from my hand, up my arm, featherlight touches. Powerful touches. Too powerful.

"Hoo-kay!" I jumped suddenly. "Hands where I can see them, Willow."

She pulled her hands away, but didn't back away from me. I was keenly aware of her presence, of the pressure of her arm against mine, of the scent of her perfume, now mingled with a sweet musky fragrance that could only be part of Willow. Resist, Buffy, resist. Think un-sexy thoughts. The Gentlemen. Rosie O'Donnell. Mr. Snyder in a green Speedo. Oh, yeah, that did it. Cooled down.

"Oh come on, Buffy," Willow was saying, her voice continuing on in that sultry coo she had been using on me. Snyder in a Speedo! Snyder in a Speedo! "Are you going to honestly tell me that you didn't enjoy my touching you?"

"Just keep them in sight," I answered quickly. No, I couldn't honestly say I didn't. But I wasn't gonna tell her that. "It's bad enough you've got your tits hanging out..."

"Tits," she muttered suddenly. "Another unpleasant word." She regarded me with a more reserved expression, but the mischief in her eyes was still there. Oh God. "Who came up with all these ugly words to describe something as beautiful as the female body? Tits. Ass. Cunt. Pussy."

"Actually," I admitted, "I like 'pussy'."

"You do?" she asked brightly, suddenly leering at me.

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!" I shouted, which drew from her a cheerful laugh. "What is this anyway, really? You trying to convert me or something? You and Tara got a deal going? Convert ten girls to lesbianism and you get the toaster oven?"

I must have spoken in too loud a voice, because suddenly she shied away from me. Oh God, I blew it! I immediately leaned toward her, and took her hand in mine. "Oh, Wills, I'm sorry. I just -- I, I -- this is just a strange situation for me. If I start ranting, just ignore me."

Willow looked back at me, and though I could see a faint tear track mar her lovely face, she smiled for me, an honest, real smile. "I understand, Buffy," she assured me. "This is a weird scenario for both of us. And no, I'm not trying to convert you to anything. Not that I need to, do I?" Her eyes took on that knowing look again, and I knew that I fell into her trap. Clever red-haired minx. "I remember the way you and Faith would steal looks at each other. Something was there. No, I don't think you're a lesbian. But women are attractive to you, just as men are. That's the situation with me." She leaned in closely again, and started to blow softly into my ear.

"And you're right," she whispered silkenly in my ear. "I like 'pussy' too. It's soft, sweet. Something cute, something you want to pet, to touch. It's just the ugly words I was talking about. Take 'fuck' for instance." She sat back up, but never let go of my hand. "An acronym for a nineteenth century term for soliciting a prostitute; 'to solicite a person For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge'. Nice. The word 'fuck' basically means a sex crime. Sure, I use it sometimes, in private, but I don't do it."

"You understand what I'm saying, don't you?" She leaned in close enough to kiss me on the mouth, but didn't. "I don't have 'tits', I have breasts. I don't have a 'cunt', I have a vagina. And I don't 'fuck', I make love."

**She'll fuck you, Buffy, and you'll love it.** That voice again. Oh God. I was on the tightrope here. I wanted her. As a friend, as a partner, as a lover, in all ways I wanted her. But if I took her, I'd lose. I'd prove that I was too weak, that my body could betray me easily. And what would happen to our friendship? I wasn't going to risk that. I couldn't. I've lost too much already in my life. I couldn't survive if I lost Willow.

But there was still that voice, that insessant lust growing within me, telling me what I want to hear, but refuse to hear. **She wants you, Buffy! Let her have you!** NO! I can't! Not Willow!

Even if I could easily become lost in the depths of those green eyes, or if that beautiful red hair just ached for my fingers to run through it, or if that sweet body of hers demanded my hands, my lips, my tongue--

"Come here, Buffy," she slowly crooked her finger, beckoning me to her. I resisted. I wasn't going to let her throw herself at me. "Not that way, Buffy," she smiled sweetly, but just a bit of mischief alight on her face. "You just looked tense. I wanted to give you a massage. See," she held up her hands, wiggling her fingers, "purely therapeutic."

"No funny stuff, Wills?"

"I won't lie to you," Willow answered sweetly. "I'll do anything I can to break down your defenses. But I told you the rules of the game. No penetration, no kissing or licking, only touches, breaths and words. Surely the big tough Slayer can take that, can't she?"

This was Willow. This was my best friend. The one who comforted me when Angel left me. The one who was there for me when Mom died. The one person in this world who I could trust with my life, my heart, my soul.

But could I trust myself with her?

"Okay," I told her, putting on the closest thing I had to her 'resolve face'. "Shoulders, back, upper body in general. Fingers, palms only. No breasts, nothing lower than the lower ribs, and all clothing remains in place. Okay?"

Willow shrugged her shoulders, playing the innocent. "Agreed."

I leaned in toward her, twisting myself around slightly. "Okay, let's feel those magic fingers." She slowly positioned me so I was sitting in front of her, and pulled me back so I was leaning against her body. She started to touch my shoulders, gently but firmly. Her hands started to press down on my shoulders in firm small circles, kneading the tension out of my back. Oh God, she was good. This was something I could get used to. "You have talented fingers," I murmured. "Must have gotten some practice on Tara."

I thought I could feel her hesitating as she rubbed my back. I shook my head, saying, "Sorry, Wills."

"Don't be," she said gently. "She and I knew it wasn't meant to be. We're still friends and all that. It's just that we finally had to accept that we weren't going the same way." I heard her voice, a sweet whisper, a vocal carress, so close to my ear. She was so close. I gulped down, and fought the power she held over me. But I so wanted to surrender.

I was falling hard for her. There was no other way to say it.

I don't recall how long she just kept at it, just massaging my shoulders and back. I was simply enjoying it too much. My body was indeed betraying my mind. And I didn't know how much longer I could fight her off.

"You have such soft skin, Buffy," she commented as her hands worked their way down my back. "And you smell so good." I could feel her nose press against my back.

"Just remember," I said to her, keeping my voice to a whisper; I was becoming more aroused, and I didn't want her to hear my arousal in my voice. "Hands, breath and words."

"And I haven't broken those rules," she answered sweetly. "Yet. Actually, you have no idea how powerful the human voice is in terms of seduction. Words can reach a place in the heart that the hands can never carress." I wasn't even aware that she was still massaging my shoulders, as I grew lost in her gentle voice. She was right, I realized. She was seducing me, making love to me with her voice.

"You know the story of Sheherezade, don't you?" she cooed in my ears. "She was the latest wife of a caliph who wanted to be rid of her. He planned to have her killed on their wedding night, but she knew that her life was on the line. So she started to tell him stories. That's where the 1,001 Arabian Nights came from. Her stories. Each night, she would bring her story to a key part of the action, mesmerizing the caliph with her words. Then she would stop, and the caliph would want to know what happened next. And Sheherezade would promise to tell him the rest of the story the next night."

"So Sheherezade invented the cliffhanger," I whispered. My body continued to go against my will, responding to her gentlest touch.

"More than that," she smiled. "She won his interest, and finally his heart, with her words. Nothing more than her voice, telling him stories. She was the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, and in the end it was her voice that won him over."

Her voice. She knew exactly what she was doing, didn't she? Willow was winning. And she knew it.

"Let me tell you a story, Buffy," she continued. "Sort of a classic, but with a twist." Her hands ventured lower, ever lower, and I was powerless to resist. "Once upon a time, there was a sailor who had unloaded his cargo to a far port, and was finally on his way home to his daughter, Vivianne. But a terrible storm threatened his boat, tossing it along treacherous waves, until the sailor was forced to ground his boat on the nearest available shore. Lucky for him, he was able to bring his boat to a safe port.

"When he left the boat, he tried to locate a house, where he hoped he would find someone who could tell him where he was. But the only place he could find on this island was an old castle, seemingly deserted. The main entrance was wide open, and there was no one there to greet him or send him away. Fearing the storm outside, he decided to take shelter in the castle until the storm passed. He found his way into the main hall, and found a dry place to settle down for the night.

"But no sooner had he started to sleep, than a terrible sound was heard all around him. A bellowing cry, that rattled the windows and shook the hall like the judgement of God. The bellowing turned into a deep booming voice, shouting, 'Who dares tresspass in my home? Who dares to rest in the home of the Cursed One, the Beast?'"

"Beauty and the Beast," I vaguely recognized the source of her story. My body was responding further to her ministrations, as her hands worked lower down my back, passing gently over the fabric of my teddy. Oh God, she was good.

"Something like that, Buffy," she said softly. "But there's a twist on the original. Now, where was I? Oh yeah. The voice of the Beast echoed through the castle, causing the poor sailor to tremble in fear. 'Forgive me, Master of the House,' the sailor said, preparing ot leave the palace. 'I was only seeking shelter from the storm that washed my boat onto the shore. If you wish, I will leave now.'

"'But it is too late for you,' the Beast answered, roaring even louder. 'I cannot allow you to tell others of what you have seen here! You can never be allowed to leave this place.'

"The sailor began to plead for his life against the unseen voice. 'I have a daughter, Master. She is all I have in this world, since her mother died. Please, let me return to her, if only to say goodbye.'

"The Beast was silent for a second. He then declared, 'So be it. But be back within the week. And do not break your word!'

"The sailor promised again, 'I give you my word, oh grave Master, I will return.'

"'Then go!' bellowed the Beast. And the sailor tipped his hat and fled the castle." While she told her story, she changed the plan of her attack on my shoulder muscles. From a steady, theraputic kneading to a soft slow carress. I didn't feel the difference at first, so caught up I was in her story, and by the time the change in her touch registered in my synapses, I didn't want her to stop. Oh God, her hands were magic. And the sweet steady cadence of her voice. I swear she could have read the Sunnydale yellow pages and had the same effect on me. She was weakening every shield I had placed over my heart, and my body wanted nothing more than to claim her, right there on the couch. But my mind wouldn't let me. I knew that if I let my body take control, I would lose the test of wills. And I would lose Willow.

Besides, I wanted to know how the story ended.

"The storm had abated by this time," Willow continued her story, "so the sailor was able to push his craft off the rocks, and sail away from the island. But he never forgot the terrible voice of the Beast. It took him two days and two nights to return to his home port, and his nightmares on both nights were filled with the Beast's voice; 'Be back within the week. And do not break your word!'

"The two days passed slowly, but finally the sailor saw the familiar ports of his home. He steered his craft into port, weighed anchor, and went ashore. There on the pier, his daughter Vivianne was waiting for him, and she rushed happily into her father's arms. 'Fahter,' she greeted the sailor, 'it is good to have you home.'

"The sailor looked sadly at his daughter, his greatest treasure. 'It is good to be home again,' the sailor answered, 'if only for one day.'

"'What do you mean, father?' Vivianne asked.

"The sailor's voice was sad as he told his daughter the truth about the remote island, the castle, and the Beast. 'I don't know how I know this,' the sailor said, 'but I do know that if I don't return to become the Beast's prisoner, he will destroy me, and no doubt will kill you as well. I cannot allow the Beast to harm you, my beloved daughter, so I must return to him, to offer myself as his captive.'

"At this, Vivianne gasped. 'No!' she cried. 'I won't let this monster do this to you! You are too old to survive such an ordeal!'

"'And you are too young to die at a monster's hand,' the sailor said. 'I must do this. Please, Vivianne, we have this one last day together. Let us not waste it.'

"Vivianne bowed her head dutifully. 'Yes, Father,' she said mournfully. 'We have one last day together.' And they spent the rest of the day catching up, speaking their hearts to each other.

"But Vivianne was not about to let her father sacrifice himself. That night, while he slept, she fled in the night, taking his boat. While she could not make much progress sailing by night, she was able, once the day began, to navigate the coastline, and find the strange island where the Beast lived.

"She docked the boat on the island, and ventured toward the castle. Entering the hall, she called out to its occupant, 'Beast, I am here to pay the forfeit of my father.'

"A low growl could be heard througout the castle. 'Who are you, child,' the Beast intoned, 'and why do you come instead of the sailor?'

"'I am Vivianne, the sailor's daughter. And I come in his place. I will take his punishment.'

"The Beast snorted, 'What makes you think you will be welcome here, in your father's place?'

"'I cannot allow my father to die in this place, so far away from his homeland. He has done so much for me, how can I do any less for him?'

"She was greeted with silence, then the sounds of boots against cold marble. A terrible figure strode toward her, tall and leonine. His face was flattened and furry, like a cat's. His eyes were orbs of obsidian, with yellow irises. A mane of long wavy dark hair flowed from his head. His hands were clawed, and covered in a down of fine tawny fur. He approached the young woman, towering over her as he stood before her. Vivianne was afraid, but she refused to cower before the Beast.

"The Beast regarded Vivianne with the same fierceness that edged his voice, but his eyes held a strange sadness. Despite her fear, Vivianne felt a compassion for her captor, a vague desire to help him.

"'Know this,' growled the Beast, 'that you will be well treated while you are here, but you will come and go at my sufferance. Do you agree?'

"'I agree,' answered Vivianne."

"'So be it,' said the Beast, who turned and walked away, beckoning his new guest to follow him."

Willow's left finger trailed precariously at the shoulder strap of my nightie, slowly making its way underneath, while inching ever closer to my breast. Her right hand was stroking my side, down my ribs, down my waist. Every featherlight touch set my nerves afire, weakened my resolve. I was losing the battle, and a steadily growing part of me didn't even care.

"The Beast said nothing more, as he showed Vivianne her new room. In contrast to the drafty main hallway of the castle, Vivianne's room was warm and comfortalbe. A large bed covered with a white feather duvet dominated the left side of the room, with a wardrobe, vanity and nightstand set beside the bed, all fully furnished and tastefully decorated. A fire burned cheerily in the huge stone fireplace on the right wall. Clearly the Beast had prepared this room for her father, but was willing to accept Vivianne as his hostage. 'I shall arrange for clothing to be sent to you,' the Beast declared quietly. 'I must go, but I will see you for dinner tomorrow night.' The Beast closed the door behind him, leaving poor Vivianne to her thoughts. She felt truly alone, believing that she had condemned herself to a lifetime of servitude to a loathsome monster. Finally, she managed to bring herself to a fitfull sleep.

"The next day, she slowly awoke to the sun's rays carressing her cheek, and heard a knock at her bedroom door. She hesitantly rose from her bed, and opened the door. 'Miss Vivianne,' a pretty blond woman greeted her as she entered, bearing a bundle of clothes in her arms. 'I am Beatrice, and the Master sent me to bring you some clothes. He figured that we are both the same size.' Beatrice showed Vivianne the new wardrobe the Beast had provided her. Several dresses, blouses, night clothes, stockings, undergarments, all the clothing that Vivianne would require. Fine fabrics, comfortable silks and linens, all tastefully styled, and as Vivianne found out, fit perfectly.

"'Thank you, Beatrice,' said Vivianne, as she dressed for breakfast. 'At least I will be presentable.' She turned to her new companion and asked her, 'Are you a servant of the Beast?'

"'I am his only servant,' Beatrice answered. 'He and I have been the only people on this island for so many years, before you came here. Ever since-- no, I cannot tell you. The Master alone can divulge that information.' Beatrice collected herself from a fluster fit, and then continued, 'I am sorry for the circumstances that have forced you to remain here with us, but I am glad that you are here. It has been so lonely for me without any company.'

"'I understand,' Vivianne nodded her head. 'And I am glad of your company as well.' She took an instant liking to the young maid, and felt that with her friendship her stay as the Beast's prisoner would be less hellish.

"'Then we must spend a great deal of time together,' Beatrice answered happily. 'We will surely be fast friends. But I must go for now. We shall meet later?'

"'Certainly,' answered Vivianne.

"'The Master will only see you at dinner,' Beatrice informed Vivianne before she left. 'That is the only time in the day he will be out of his wing of the castle. And you must never enter his wing, it is strictly forbidden.' She then left quietly, leaving Vivianne more confused than before. What manner of being was this Beast, and why was he so secretive? If she and Beatrice were his only company, then why shun them by staying away from them?

"Beatrice took Vivianne by the hand and gave her a tour of the west wing, where their chambers were. Despite the gloom of the palace by night, the courtyard that Vivianne hadn't seen before, and the forest beyond, were bright, warm, friendly. Vivid greens graced the trees, while a fountain trickled merrily in the courtyard. Yes, Vivianne realized, this prison may not be as unpleasant as she had believed at first. Especially with such sweet company as Beatrice."

Sweet company, oh yes, that's what Willow was being. Her voice, her sweet sinister voice, lulling me with its cadences. Her mouth, blowing a stream of air into my ear, causing me to shudder. Her hands, brushing against my skin, playing me like a harp. Every nerve of my body was a string that her slightest touch would send vibrating. I had absently noted that her right hand had left my side, and was now resting on my hip. That part of me that was resisting her knew that she was preparing her final assault. But that resistant part of me was growing smaller and smaller, as my body began its inevitable surrender to Willow's ministrations. I wanted her so bad, but I couldn't lose her friendship, but I wanted her so bad...

"That evening, Vivianne was summoned to dinner by the Beast. She sat at the end of a long table, while the Beast sat at the other end. Vivianne was surprised that the Beast had chosen to stand up from his end of the table and serve her her meal himself. 'Where is Beatrice?' asked Vivianne. 'Is she not coming?'

"'Beatrice does not eat with me,' the Beast answered. 'It is by her choice.' The Beast finished serving Beatrice, and returned to his place at the table. Vivianne noticed a sadness in the Beast's manner, that belied his fierceness from the night before.

"The Beast then spoke to Vivianne, and his voice carried no gruffness from before either; 'I must ask your pardon, fair maiden, for the circumstances which brought you to me. You must understand that, if my existence is discovered, the outside world would attack me out of fear.' Vivianne indeed understood; she was held here as a hostage, to prevent her father from revealing the Beast's existence. 'However,' the Beast continued, 'it is possible that your presence here was fated.'

"'Fated, my lord?' Vivianne asked. 'How so?'

"'For years,' the Beast explained, 'I have labored under a curse. I scorned a powerful mage, and for my folly I was cursed to become this Beast you see before you. Only the power of a woman's heart may remove my affliction. I must win the heart of a young woman, and she must pledge her love to me.' He stopped, looked at his guest expectantly, and said, 'Vivianne, will you marry me?'

"'No, my lord,' Vivianne answered. 'I do not love you, and I could not lift the curse.' The truth was that Vivianne was touched by the Beast's plight, but knew that a false love would never break the terrible spell that bound him.

"The Beast recognized this truth as well. 'So be it. I shall not keep you in my palace forever,' he promised, 'but for a year and a day. Each night, I shall ask you for your hand in marriage. If by the end of the proscribed time you still do not love me, you may go.'

"Vivianne quietly agreed to the Beast's terms, believing that she could never love her new lord. They finished their meal in silence, and the Beast then escorted Vivianne to her bedchamber.

"The months passed by quickly enough. Each day, Vivianne spent the time with Beatrice, playing games in the courtyard, roaming the forests together, talking about nothing and everything, bonding as only two women can. Each night, Vivianne spoke with the Beast, reading to and with him, discussing favorite authors, beloved myths and legends, becoming close in mind and heart as well.

"Each night, the Beast would ask Vivianne for her hand in marriage. But each night, Vivianne was forced to refuse. As close as they were becoming over the months, she simply did not love him. She admired him, even liked him, but her heart was slowly being won by another. By a young maid with auburn hair and chestnut eyes. By the maid Beatrice.

"Every day, she looked forward to seeing her friend, to talking about their dreams and hopes, to hearing her sweet voice and gazing upon her softly featured face and inviting body. Every night, she found her dreams invaded by images of Beatrice inviting her, calling her to know a love more pure than any in Vivianne's experience. She tried to deny her love, especially in light of the Beast's terrible curse. But as the months passed by, she could no longer deny the urgings of her heart. She had fallen in love with the maid, Beatrice."

I don't know what did it; the voice telling a beautiful love story, the breath in my ear, the left hand teasing my nipple, or the right hand slowly carressing the outer lips of my labia. Or maybe a combination of all factors. Before I could stop myself, I craned my head around, grabbed her head in my hands, sealed her mouth with mine, and kissed her as heartily as I could. Breaking off the kiss only to breath, I whispered huskily to her, "Shut up and make love to me!"

Willow flashed an elfin smile, a victorious smile. "I thought you'd never ask!"

Her mouth was on mine again, her tongue writhing against mine. I didn't even remember when her hands reached behind me to loosen the straps of my teddy, but soon I was completely naked. She pinned me down on the couch, and proceeded to ravage me. Not a square inch of my flesh went unexamined by small questing fingers or an agile electric tongue. My body crested against hers as she moved down, ever down, her mouth on my neck, my breasts, my breastbone, my belly, my pelvis, my thighs, my pussy. My passion ruled me completely, and I was barely able to function above the most rudimentary levels. All I was capable of feeling was her mouth on my labia, her hands on my ass, her hair in my hands. How long she kept me at the edge I don't know, but finally she relented and finished the job, hurtling me over the abyss.

Oh God!

Oh God...

========

I didn't know when I had blacked out, but I awoke slowly, feeling warm hands around my shoulders. I don't recall making it to my bedroom, but my familiar blanket was over me. I hesitated, praying that what had happened was nothing but a dream, but when I turned around, I saw confirmation that it had happened. Willow, naked and unashamed, her sea-green eyes capturing mine again.

"Oh, Wills," I moaned, hiding my face in her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"Why?" Willow asked. "Are you sorry that we did it tonight?"

"NO! Yes! Oh," I stopped, collected myself, tried to find the words. "I'm sorry that I was weak. I must have failed the test that you had set up for me."

Willow's smile was tinged with sympathy. "Buffy, I had my chronograph watch on, and switched it off just when you kissed me that first time." Glancing at her wrist, she added, "Fifteen hours, twenty-three minutes and seventeen seconds. According to Giles, only a few Slayers ever lived long enough to take the Mental Challenge, and their average time was only two to three hours. I'd say you passed with flying colors."

"I did?" I asked meekly. After what I had done to her, how I had violated her, she still could smile at me, still wanted my friendship. "Yay me." I looked at her again, pleading with my eyes. "Willow, if I did anything to you that you didn't want--"

Willow stopped my apology with a finger on my lips. I resisted the urge to lick her finger, but she then slowly pushed it into my mouth. "Buffy," she murmured huskily as I tasted her again, "what we did last night was because we had to." She then smiled evilly, adding, "When we make love next time, it will be for us."

"N-next time?" I hesitated, not believing what I heard. "There'll be a next time?"

"I sure as hell hope so," she grinned. "That is, if you want it too."

I couldn't lie to her, not now. After all that had happened between us, before and during the ordeal last night. "Oh yeah, I want."

Willow cuddled into my arms again, a canary-swallowing grin plastered onto her face. Oh God she was so cute with that self-satisfied look on her features. Oh how I loved her.

"Willow," I nudged her as I suddenly remembered. "You never finished that story."

"Well," she teased me, poking me in the ribs, "I was distracted." I cringed slightly in apology, and she continued; "It was getting close to the end of the year and a day, and Vivianne still hadn't resolved the dilemma of her heart. She felt uneasy about leaving the Beast, whom she had grown to care for deeply, or Beatrice, who had won her heart. She had offered to take Beatrice with her when she left the castle, but Beatrice refused, saying that she could never leave. Vivianne despaired that Beatrice would never return her love.

"Finally, on the last day of her stay at the castle, Vivianne begged Beatrice to explain to her why she could not return to the mainland with her. Beatrice reluctantly answered, 'See me in the courtyard at sunset. Do not be late.' Vivianne agreed to meet her there at sunset.

"Sure enough Vivianne saw her Beatrice in the courtyard shortly before the sun went down. Beatrice motioned for her to sit silently and witness. Beatrice then removed her clothing, slowly, until she stood completely nude in front of Vivianne. Vivianne could feel the flush in her cheek as she gazed at her beloved. Never in her life had she seen anything more beautiful.

"Finally, as the sun went down behind the horizon, the change began. Beatrice started to thrash violently in front of Vivianne, her body spasming involuntarily. Her body grew larger, more massive. Fur started to cover her form, her face contorted into an animal's, and her upper body became more muscular, losing the soft curves that Vivianne had admired. At length, the transformation was complete. Where Beatrice had been, there now stood the Beast.

"Vivianne was shocked as the naked Beast stood before her. She searched the depths of his obsidian eyes, and found Beatrice lurking within them, her inteligence and her soul still intact.

"'Now you know,' the Beast explained. 'I am that one you call Beatrice. She and I are the same. I become her by day, and the Beast at night.'

"'Were you then a woman, before the mage cursed you?' Vivianne asked.

"'It was so long ago,' the Beast answered, 'that I do not recall whether I was male or female. I've been under the curse for so long that being Beatrice or the Beast is all I know. But now I know that I have found in you a love beyond all experience, beyond all reason. Even if you cannot love either of my forms, know that I have loved you, and will love you, for as long as I live.'

"Vivianne looked again at her master, her beloved. Both of them, individually and together, had been so kind to her, she was ashamed of herself for not recognizing that similarity. And now that she was faced with the truth, she knew only one responce; 'No, my fair one,' she answered. 'I longed for a companion who's soul and intellect were the equal of mine, and found them in the Beast. I longed for a lover as fair and big of heart as Beatrice. And in you, who are the sum of both Beatrice and Beast, I found my one true love.' She then leaned toward the Beast, and kissed him gently on the mouth.

"The change began again as she kissed him. His body shrank, thinned, softened before her, the fur faded and soon, Beatrice stood nude before Vivianne. The two embraced and kissed again. Vivianne admired Beatrice's form anew, and Beatrice smiled at her beloved. 'All I wanted,' she vowed, 'was to be whoever and whatever could give you joy.'

"'You are who you are,' Vivianne answered, kissing her love again. 'That is joy enough for anyone.' The two women made love there in the courtyard, and the next day began their lives together."

"And they lived happily ever after," I finished, smiling at Willow.

"Something like that," Willow answered happily.

"Too bad that we probably won't get that chance," I said ruefully, "me being the Slayer and all."

"Don't worry," Willow assured me, wrapping me in her arms, her breasts my pillow. "We'll live happily ever after for as long as we can. That's all any of us can do." She kissed my forehead, and I knew she was right. Where I feared losing my friend, I instead won her forever.

"Uh, Wills," I asked, getting an idea. "Is that spell still around the house? That timespell thingy?"

"Oh, right," she said, suddenly bolting out of bed as she remembered. "Don't worry, the spell will hold until I reverse it myself. And we'll emerge into the time stream at the same moment we departed, so objectively none of this took longer than a few seconds. You ready to go back to the real world?"

"Not just yet," I could feel the grin splitting my face, as I reached for Willow again. "You said something about the Rule of Three?"

Willow looked at me puzzled. "Uh yeah."

"Well then," I said as I stared to kiss her breasts, "since you just gave me the most incredible orgasm of my life, I owe you at least three incredible orgasms." I felt the nipple harden beneath my lips, as my passion quickened within me. This time, I let it go freely.

There would be time later to deal with what Willow and I had become together. For now, we had all the world and time to ourselves, and I planned to enjoy it for as long as possible. I don't know if I managed to catch up with her on the orgasm count, but she later said we were even. If we weren't I have a lifetime to make up for it.

Happily ever after began that night.

FINIS