The Lateralus Duet - 1 - Schism
by Valyssia
Truth is a Shattered Mirror
[reviews]
INTERMISSION CONT.
Valyssia's arms were laden with a huge bucket of popcorn and a large cup of fruit punch. She turned her back to the heavy wooden door and pushed with all her might. It swung open and she slid inside the dark empty theater. Her boots stuck to the carpet, making funny noises as she trudged down the aisle to the first row. After placing the drink cup into the caddy on the arm of the chair, she carefully raised the bucket of popcorn up and wedged it between the folded cushions of the aisle seat.
Valyssia glared at the back of the springy theater seat which was level with the top of her head, defiantly grabbing it and folding it down. She gingerly climbed into it on her knees and turned to sit on the edge, dangling her legs off. Her feet didn't brush the ground as she swung them back and forth playfully and watched the singing popcorn bucket dance with his soft drink container friend on the big screen.
After a few moments of being entertained by less than entertaining cartoons designed to make you want to buy the very thing she had, Valyssia grunted, "Hurmph," and slid back in her chair. Her legs stuck straight out in front of her like a child's when she finally met the back of the chair. She braced herself for an instant, pushing with all her might against the springs of the chair to hold it open while attempting to slouch forward enough to overcome gravity and tension. Then the chair snapped closed, folding her in half like a doll. As her bottom started to slip between the cushions, drifting toward the sticky floor, she screamed, "SHIT!" to the empty theater and the movie started. And they wonder why I's grumpy.
There was a time that the pieces fit, but I watched them fall away. Mildewed and smoldering, strangled by our coveting.
Buffy tried to double over as her body twisted in anguish. The rough shackles cut at her wrists and she screamed. She felt like she was being ripped in two as the spirits inside her warred, loosing a barrage of horrifying images. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as a torrent of terrible memories washed over her. Rape after rape, violations she couldn't even begin to imagine, then submission. Suck his cock when he snaps his fingers. Be a good little dolly. Her face twisted in anguish. She screamed again at the scenes as the played in first-person in her mind, praying for something else to take their place. "Hit me," she begged. The idea formed and she continued to plead for physical pain. Make the slayer come, make me forget. She opened her eyes to look at the witch.
Willow tripped when she backed away from the slayer. Dismay etched into her features. She listened to the pleading cries of torment. Goddess, what now? Do I give her what she wants? How can I not? She needs the pain to focus. She went to the closet and dug through a small bag on the floor, producing the whip. As she turned back, a look of gratitude passed over the slayer's face then vanished to the twisted expression of pure agony.
The whip cracked in the air between them and Buffy glanced up. The images continued to flash by and she grew dizzy, unsure whether they were actual memories or terrors planted by the battling spirits. "Please, Will, make it stop," she begged. The first blow struck her across the stomach, cutting into her flesh. She convulsed as the pain sliced through her. The witch walked around her and the next blow laid the skin across her shoulders open. She sagged in the shackles, letting them open her wrists. The blood dripped down her stomach, arms, and back. Another blow tore into her lower back, followed closely by another; they blended together into a sort of sweet numbness and her mind grew quiet. As she breathed, a fine, gray mist drifted out of her mouth and nose into the room, but neither woman noticed.
Willow continued to flog the slayer until she heard the familiar growl. "There you are," she purred. 'Bout goddamned time. She looked ruefully at the ruined flesh of her lover's back. Tossing the whip aside, she walked around to meet the slayer's gaze. Her hand dipped to caress the slayer's dripping sex. Should I? She'd been violated so much. How will she—?
The slayer snarled and bared her teeth. "Back for more, little witch?" she asked in a cruel voice. Her eyes traveled over the redhead's modest frame with contempt. A cold laugh poured from her, then she commented acidly, "You just hurt the girl, hurt yourself. Folly! The work of a feeble mind to think you can control me without killing her."
'Kay, so...demon...that pretty much clinches it. Buffy must be really weak for her to manifest so fully. Who am I kidding? I dunno if I'll ever see Buffy again. A tear trailed down her cheek as Willow walked over to the closet turning her back on the demon. "Silens" she whispered under her breath and a choking noise issued from the demon. While she pulled out the strap-on and harness, she commented, "Feeble? Seem to be controlling you just fine. Sure you're not just scared?"
The slayer spat at the witch and jerked forward on the chains, testing their limits.
Willow picked up a towel off the shelf and dried the tears before she turned back to face the slayer. There was a smug expression on the demon's face that told her she was aware of the crying. She actually enjoyed it. Her first impulse was to smack the slayer with all her strength; she listened. Buffy's head snapped sideways and it started to silently laugh at her. It's trying to goad me into doing her more harm. That'll be about enough of that. She peeled her clothing off and buckled the harness on. We're gonna go back to animal. "Act like an animal and I'll treat you like one," she stated plainly. After going to the bedside table for lube, she slipped between the slayer and the bed, staring at the angry crimson gashes.
The slayer shifted around anxiously, trying to see what the witch was doing. Her body trembled as the witch pressed the slippery phallus inside the tight, sensitive orifice. A silent grunt tried to slip out, but she bit it back, clenching her jaws. I'll kill her for this. She fought against the manacles, trying to break free to punish the witch for humiliating her.
Willow reached around, cupping the slayer's sex. Her hand traced tiny circles in the moist, supple skin to calm the savage animal as she pumped gently against her. Not hurting...just showing... This is not hers to control. Finally, when her lover's body was trembling with pleasure, she released her hold. Buffy's voice broke the silence of the room, panting and gasping for breath. She gently withdrew and went to the closet for the towel to clean up the excess lube. Once clean, she turned and looked at the slayer. It was still the animal, but a much calmer, less threatening version. She pulled out the jar of ointment and covered a small plug. Returning to the slayer, she inserted the wedge of silicone into her. Then she walked around to face her mate and pressed the dildo inside. "You gonna play nice now?" she asked, meeting the slayer's eyes. Her mate's gaze shifted, nervously staring as the floor. "That's right," she cooed, stroking the soft blonde hair away from the slayer's face as she gently rocked against her.
Several minutes of the soothing cadence caused the slayer to slump onto her mate, laying her head against her shoulder.
Willow saw that she'd managed to completely calm the beast and mumbled, "Opprimo tractus," under her breath. The slayer fell limp against her. She slipped gently out and lifted the slayer up by magick to take the tension off her bleeding wrists. Rifling through the closet, she produced the old bedspread and draped it over the bed. Wish I'd had time for this before. Then she went to her desk for the padlock key and released the lithe body, lifting her onto the bed, face down. After applying a thick coat of the salve to her injured back, ankles, and wrists, Willow removed the plug and set it aside, rotating the slayer onto her back. Once the shackles were locked in place, she uttered, "Solvo," in a voice that barely registered as a whisper. She applied more of the ointment to the gash on her mate's stomach, then looked up, trying to meet her gaze. The slayer cast her gaze anxiously over at the bedside table. "That's right, I'll put it back if you're mean." Willow removed the harness, I don't need this anymore, and cast it aside on the floor next to the bed.
The slayer shifted at the noise, looking around to see what was going on. A low, angry growl announced her displeasure.
Willow sat on the edge of the bed and tried to make eye contact again, but the slayer avoided her gaze. She wants more. After a few moments of making her mate wait, she got up, put on her robe and took the sex toys to the bathroom to clean. When she was finished, the witch made her way back to their room, not sure what she'd find. Taking a seat on the bed again, she set the toys and scanned the slayer's face. "Buffy?" she asked tentatively. When tears welled up in the bright blue eyes she had her answer. She started to retrieve the key and heard the word, 'no.'
"Will, please...fuck me," Buffy begged, wanting the returning images to stop. Tears flowed down her cheeks. "I can't... This—it hurts, Will. Make me not feel," she pleaded. Her body tensed against the bonds, opening the cuts up to make them bleed. The pain washed over her and she fell still.
Willow wanted to remove the shackles but, every time she tried, her partner ripped the manacle out of her grasp, opening the wounds up further. She finally gave up and put the harness back on. I didn't want—I wanted to keep this separate. She gently pushed the phallus inside and her mate bucked against her. I'm not sure what to do. She's eventually gonna have to face it or go crazy.
Buffy growled at the languid rhythm. "I said fuck me!" she spat furiously at the witch. Her body thrashed against the bonds causing more blood to pour from the raw flesh.
Willow blinked as she stared into the tormented eyes of her lover. Answering the demand, she bit back the desire to comfort and thrust her hips brutally into her partner's sex. She closed her eyes as Buffy started to purr and imagined the she was still taming the slayer. Worry creased her brow. If this—I'm not sure how much of this... She'll get better. She has to.
***********
Willow's eye's snapped open. It took her a minute to understand what had happened. Buffy lay sleeping underneath her and as she stirred it came to her that she'd finally passed out from sheer exhaustion. She tried to move and every muscle ached.
Buffy groaned as the dildo slipped out. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around.
After several attempts to get up, Willow finally managed to roll off the slayer and remove the harness. Her body throbbed where the harness had been. She went for the key first and removed the manacles before Buffy could complain. I need to take care of her or this is gonna be bad. As Buffy's hands came free, they immediately went to her crotch. How could she want more? I'm barely standing. She watched fingers disappear inside the slayer and shook her head. I think I need to talk to Mary. Just a guess, but...sexually compulsive...maybe...just a little.
After a minute or two of just silently watching her partner masturbate, Willow got up to put away the chains. She busied herself cleaning up the room. Moving was making her feel better and she stretched to ease some of the ache. When she looked back at the bed, there was a distant look on her lover's face and her hands were both still teasing and massaging her core. She took out the jar of salve and applied it to the scabs on her partner's ankles. Then she moved to her stomach applying a little to the thin, pink stripe. Well at least that's healing. Seizing the slayer's right wrist, she applied a layer of the ointment to it then wiped a generous amount across her fingers and palm. When she moved the left arm to treat it, the right took its place. It took only seconds for the slippery fingers to disappear. Thanks, she considered wryly.
Willow put on her bathrobe and sat down at her desk chair, racking her brain to come up with a way to help. I want to look at her back—odds are she'll have a fit if I try to move her. I could try helping from the inside. She snapped her fingers as something occurred to her and she almost gasped when Buffy jumped off the bed, holding her gaze to the floor.
Buffy cautiously approached the witch and dropped to her knees, parting the front of the robe. She grabbed the redhead's thighs and slid her forward on the chair then buried her mouth in the moist warm folds.
Her mouth dropped open as her partner started to tongue her sex. Oh my Goddess! That unbelievable bastard trained her. I'm—I-I...I dunno how to...How do you repair—umm... A soft moan drifted out and Willow slid forward in the chair pressing her sex into her lover's eager mouth. Her brain turned to so much mush under the tender ministrations. Eventually she focused enough to consider, If I can command her to do this...pretty much anything I want. It pained her to say it, but she finally managed, "Buffy, stop," wishing instantly she hadn't.
Buffy lowered her eyes. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked sheepishly.
"No, Buffy, I want to look at your back. Go lay on the bed," Willow said in a firm voice. When the slayer complied, she stood up and walked over taking a seat. Her gaze traveled up to the thin pink stripes that layered her back. Thank Goddess those are healing. I wonder how much control she really has over the slayer now. "We should go shower," she remarked dully, watching her partner bounce off the bed and grab her robe. Her psyche snapped. She's literally the perfect slave. I'm not sure...how you rebuild...
Willow followed the slayer into the bathroom and started the shower to allow it time to heat up. She brushed her teeth and gestured for Buffy to do the same. This is almost like caring for a child. When they were finished, she ushered her partner into the shower. Before she registered what was going on Buffy was attentively bathing her. When she was finished, Willow tried to take the cloth, but Buffy refused to give it to her, washing herself instead. Willow then tried to wash her own hair, Buffy pushed her aside. 'Kay, so...whatever. Willow leaned against the shower wall and let the slayer finish cleaning her. Once the gentle scalp massage ended, Willow rinsed her hair and leaned back against the shower wall waiting for her partner to bathe herself. After drying off, she slipped on her robe and wrapped her hair in a towel. When the slayer was ready, she guided her back to their room.
Buffy froze when the witch put her hand up.
Willow pulled the old comforter off the bed and folded it into the dirty laundry. Then she instructed, "Lay down, Buffy."
After hanging her robe up, Buffy went to the bed and lay down, spreading her thighs open to expose her sex. She was baffled when the witch came over and started to dress her wounds. "You don't want to fuck me?" she asked in a small voice thick with hurt.
"Not now, Buffy, I want to make sure you heal," Willow stated simply as she examined, treated and bandaged the wounds on the slayer's ankles and wrists. She wasn't surprised that as she relinquished her hold on each hand it immediately traveled to the slayer's sex. Willow quirked an eyebrow and directed, "Lemme see your right hand, Buffy." Once she applied a generous portion of the salve to her partner's hand, she said, "Rub that in." The hand traveled back and began to massage the viscous salve into the supple folds. She shook her head and added, "Inside too."
Willow left the room briefly to wash her hands. When she returned to the room, Buffy was still massaging the ointment into the folds of her sex. I'm almost afraid what she'll do around Dawn. Could be badness. She's so hypersexual...who knows? She hurried to dress, then sat down next to her partner and said, "Buffy, stop touching."
Buffy grudgingly put her hands to her sides and awaited the witch's instructions.
"I never want you to touch unless I say it's okay," Willow commanded in a firm voice.
Her gaze dropped and Buffy looked decidedly ashamed. Finally, she replied in a pained voice, "Yes."
Willow sighed as she looked over the supine slayer. Her heart melted. This is killing her. I can feel the confusion. A tear seeped from the corner of her partner's eye. Guilt tore at Willow as reached out and caressed the tear way. She tried to make eye contact again, but her partner refused, glancing away. "Buffy, look at me," she instructed patiently.
Buffy timidly looked up and glanced immediately away. After another patient prompt was issued, she bashfully met the witch's gaze.
I think I screwed up really bad last night. Can I tell Giles? How much will he wig? Willow struggled to push down the inner conflict as she peered into the slayer's eyes. Eventually she directed, "Buffy, I want you to get dressed. I'll be right back. I need to check on Dawn." I was gonna take her out to dinner for her birthday. Something coupley and romantic. I wonder if she even remembers or cares. I guess this fits the standard 'Buffy birthday' misery.
Buffy got up to dress, not sure what to wear. Why didn't she pick clothes out for me? I'm not sure what she wants. After several moments of going through her clothing, she hung her head and waited. I don't wanna make her mad. If I pick the wrong thing, she'll be upset. I should wait for her to dress me. Her hand drifted to her sex as she waited and she admonished herself. Moving to the bed, she lay down on her stomach waiting to be punished.
When Willow returned to the room, she looked at the slayer. Her eyebrows twitched then quirked. "I told you to get dressed," she said, sounding annoyed.
Buffy turned her head away. Her tone was thick with shame as she stated, "But I-I didn't know what you wanted me to wear. An-and I-I touched myself."
"Why are you—?" Willow cut off mid-question as she firmed up. Oh Goddess! She's expecting me to beat her. Is this what Spike wanted from her, or is this new? I need to...I need to figure out... "Buffy, I'm not going to punish you."
"But why? I was bad," Buffy remarked in a small voice. Her back arched to press her butt into the air.
Willow looked away, unable to watch. This is Spike's fault. He would treat her like a spoiled child. Her attention drifted to the problem of something for Buffy to wear. She started to go through the blonde's clothing and selecting garments, laying them out on the bed. Tears welled up in her eyes. I have no clue how to cope with this. When she turned back to place jeans, a blue sweater she really liked, and underwear on the bed, Buffy hadn't moved. "You want me to punish you?"
Buffy nodded, then stated simply, "I deserve it."
"You don't deserve—you just didn't know. I should've been more careful," Willow countered as the slayer's ass crept higher into the air. An exasperated sigh drifted out and she directed, "Please, get dressed, Buffy."
Uncertainty tore at her and Buffy tried again, "But—" Why isn't she beating me? I was bad and I deserve it. I disappointed her. I want to please her...if this—I dunno how. Tears slipped out again as she waited for her owner to get mad. She went over what she knew. Spike wanted me to obey and, when I did, he was nice. When I didn't, he spanked me or fucked me. Sometimes both. I was bad. "Do you want to fuck me?" she asked in the same simple tone.
"What? No. Get dressed," Willow prompted again. Well, yes, but no. Goddess, help me, how does this work? Am I going to punish her by not punishing her? She expects a strong hand to back up the orders. What if she refuses to listen? That'd be fun. Her slayer didn't move except to push her ass into the air a little higher. An exasperated sigh tore from her and she turned to look at the slayer's firm body. Damn me and send me to hell.
Buffy moaned as her owner struck her. She reflexively counted internally, 'one,' and wiggled. The next swing came and her body trembled, 'two.' A subtle groan slipped out.
Willow watched the display in mild interest. It was hard for her to imagine a proud woman like Buffy enjoying this, but there was no pride left in this broken girl. She drew back and swatted again. Sensing the internal accounting, she stated, "To twenty, Buffy. Count out loud if you want," drawing back to strike her again. When the next swing landed, she heard a soft, 'three,' drift from her lover's mouth along with the moan. The golden skin was turning red on one side and she decided to swat the other this time. I need to alternate. Spanking...the joking was about as far as I got. When Willow moved to change angles, she was amused to see how drenched her lover was. She loves this. Okay...weirdness. It's a physical reaction.
The slayer's ass rose with each swing, pressing into the source of the pain. By twenty she was about to cum. "May I? Please."
"May you what?" Willow asked, appearing completely perplexed.
"May I cum, please?" Buffy begged.
And as Xander's so fond of saying, 'the fun just keeps on leaving.' After pushing down the disgust, Willow replied, "Yes, Buffy, you may cum." Her brow furrowed when Buffy didn't move. What does she want? Finally she firmed up and offered, "You may touch yourself, Buffy."
Buffy was so ashamed she could've crawled into a hole and died when she eventually asked, "But, wou-would you, please?"
Willow watched the slayer's entire body flush to match her bare bottom. Oh Goddess...she's begging to be touched. She just doesn't know how to... "Roll over and look at me, Buffy. If you can do that, I'll touch you," she instructed patiently. The pitiful expression of purest humiliation that met her was enough to make Willow cry. He killed her spirit, drove the final pieces into hiding. Why would this be the dominant personality, though? Dominant? I need help. She curled up between her lover's thighs and tenderly started to make love to her as she wept.
Buffy was perplexed by the reaction. She should be beating me. Why's she not beating me—pounding her whole hand inside me? A soft moan drifted out through slightly parted lips and she forgot why she was confused.
When they finally emerged from their room, Willow guided her partner down the stairs.
Dawn was sitting in the living room watching TV. She glanced up to see Buffy standing with her eyes turned to the floor. "Happy Birthday, Buffy," she said cheerfully, getting up to give her sister a hug. When her sister shrank back, turning toward the witch to hide her face, Dawn cast a confused look at Willow.
Willow tightened her hold on the slayer's shoulder. "It's alright, Buffy," she whispered soothingly into her partner's ear.
After turning to meet Dawn's expectant gaze, Willow commented in a thin voice. "She's not quite herself."
Holding out a small box wrapped in brightly colored paper, Dawn offered, "I got you this."
Buffy glanced up, looking at Willow for permission. When she received a nod she took the package gratefully, still not meeting her sister's gaze.
Willow wiped a tear and said, "You may open it, Buffy." She guided her lover to sit down in the recliner. "Are you hungry, Dawn? I was gonna make us something to eat," she offered hopefully as she watched Buffy carefully open her present. Goddess I need strength. Her hand moved to smooth the blonde hair back from her partner's face.
Buffy pulled out a small heart-shaped locket and opened it. On one side was a picture of her and Dawn and on the other a picture of her with Willow and Xander. A tear seeped out and she handed the locket to Willow, pulling her hair back so the witch could put it on her. "Thank you," she said in a soft voice choked with emotion, but her gaze remained fixed on the floor.
Willow put the necklace on and kissed the crown of her partner's head. "Buffy, sweetie, wait here for me. I need to talk to Dawn," she directed then herded the teen onto the porch.
Willow wrapped her arm around Dawn and instructed, "Walk with me."
"What's wrong with her?" Dawn asked once they were to the street.
Willow continued to walk at a brisk pace, waiting until they were in front of the neighbor's house to answer. "Spike raped her and beat her until he broke her mind, conditioned her to be a sex slave, and finally he killed her. I know that's not what you wanna hear, but it's the truth." She sighed. "Spike wasn't a man. He didn't see things the way we do." Turning to head back toward the house, she peered through narrowed eyes at the horrified expression on the younger Summers' face. "That's pretty much where I am too. No clue what to do. This isn't magickal. It's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."
Her mind raced then her breath grew thin and ragged as Dawn tried to gain control, finally she managed, "Wh-what do we d-do?"
Willow grasped the younger Summers' shoulders. "I need you. I can't leave her. I'm the only one that can—not sure I know how, but I'm the one she'll listen to. Taking her with, so not a plan... I don't want them to see her like this, but I need to know that someone's working on something. I need you to be there for me."
Dawn took in the pain reflected on the redhead's face and nodded.
A brittle smile twitched briefly into being, then left. "If they give you shit, tell them I mentioned a shovel. You'll do what's best for Buffy and that's all I need to know," Willow commented in a kindhearted manner, then released the young woman, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm gonna see if I can get her to settle down enough to have a peek inside her mind. I just want to look—to know. I'm afraid to touch her more than just to see. She's so brittle I could damage her. Much more and she'll collapse." A deep sigh choked out as she began to weep. After mopping her eyes with her sleeve, she took Dawn's hand and started back to the house. "I'm scared to leave her too long."