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Disclaimer: Joyce Summers and other characters from the Buffyverse belong to
Mutant Enemy Productions/Joss Whedon. I'm just borrowing them.



Buffy The Vampire Slayer:
Joyce The Vampire Slayer Part 7 - It Must Be Tuesday (Fff,spank,au)
by LL

It was gilded, but it was a cage nonetheless. Dawn sat on the large
four-poster bed and flicked through the cable channels. There was nothing on
except for the Incredibles, which she'd seen a dozen times and re-runs of
Desperate Housewives. She settled on the latter Julie was cute and Susan
was hot, it was a shame they were unlikely to get it together.

There was a knock on the door. Dawn ignored it, but after a few seconds it
opened and in came Darla. She was carrying bags of clothes, from some of the
trendiest shops in Sunnydale.

She laid them on the bed, as Dawn ignored her and concentrated on the
television.

"I like this one," the Vampire said and held up a short blue dress, designed
to accentuate the wearers figure in all the right places.

The only reply was a grunt. Darla put down the shopping and knelt in front of
Dawn. She took the teens hand in her own and massaged the back of it lightly
with her fingers.

"I meant what I said, marry me and be my Queen," she gazed upwards at Dawn,
smiling weakly.

Snatching her hand away "I'm sixteen, so this Queen things illegal" said Dawn
in a voice which sounded like music to Darla's ears.

Darla tried to take Dawn's hand again, but the teen snatched them away and
clasped them tightly in her lap.

"I'll love you forever, you'll be feted by all the vampires, live in the lap
of luxury. Everything you want will be yours without question," whined Darla.

There was a snort from the bed, "You need to grow up."

"I'm over four hundred years old," Darla sounded hurt.

Dawn looked at her and unclasped her hands long enough to give a wave of
dismissal, "You still need to grow up."

* * *

'Thwack' the swish of the belt was followed by a scream of pain from Trudi.
Beside her Carla was already sobbing uncontrollably from the pain.

"I'm sorry mistress," screamed Trudi. Glory ignored her and brought the
leather belt back down on the teenager's ass.

"It wasn't their fault," Faith sat on the sofa watching. She took another
swig from the bottle of beer in her hand, offering it to Glory who ignored
her and raised the leather belt again.

"No-one could stop Darla," faith continued, "Even I might have had some
trouble."

Glory briefly paused, "I know," she said to Faith.

"So why continue to whip them?"

Glory thrashed down with the belt, leaving another red welt on Trudi's butt
and savouring the agonised yelp, which emitted from the crying teen.

"Because I want too," she replied.

Faith took another sip of the beer, it was just out from the fridge, but it
still tasted warm and musty in her mouth and she had to fight back the
feeling of revulsion that was growing from her stomach. She was no stranger
to violence and recognised its uses in advancing her own agenda, but this
wilful sadism was something else. She put the beer down, wondering if
perhaps she was going soft. Probably not she concluded, she was willing to
remonstrate with Glory, but not so willing that she was going to get up and
do anything to stop it.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Glory finally but down the belt, "You can
go," she dismissed the two battered slaves and walked over to pick up the
second bottle of beer that Faith had brought in.

"You're a slayer, tell me about Darla."

Faith thought for a moment, dredging back to half-forgotten lessons, "She's
tough, and ruthless. Completely immoral, even for a vampire. Loves playing
games. And she's old the first tales of her are from the early seventeenth
century. Four hundred years have taught her some tricks."

Glory laughed gleefully, "Four hundred - she's just a babe in arms compared
to me..."

She drained her beer, and got up. She banged a gong and Harmony rushed in,
"Send out patrols - we've a vampire to find."

* * *

For a room in the crypt Darla's bedroom was both brightly and stylishly
decorated. Prints of classic paintings were on the wall, and the carpet was
both soft and luxuriously expensive. The wardrobe, within which hung a number
of stylish garments, was an antique, as was the bed upon which Darla lay.
Four hundred years of shrewd financial investments, coupled with bloody
mayhem, paid off.

Outside the sun would be shining and there would be a pleasant warmth to it.
For the first time since she had been sired Darla missed the daylight, or
rather she missed what she could do in it. In her time as a vampire Darla had
shredded the throats of countless, as she clawed her way violently to the
coveted title of Queen of the Vampires. She had ruthlessly dispatched both
her human prey and lesser vampires who had stood in her way, the only emotion
she had ever felt was a vague sense of elation.

However, something had changed since she had come to Sunnydale. In fact not
even since she had come to Sunnydale, but since she had first seen Dawn, her
naked body entwined with her sister. At first she thought it was a need for
a new victim, to feast on the teen's blood and control her completely. That
hadn't lasted long, her imaginings of hearing Dawn scream and choke out her
life were replaced by walks in the park, Dawn lying her head on the vampire's
shoulders. And a romantic picnic, just the two of them.

Afterwards, Dawn would lie naked in Darla's arms and whisper sweet nothings
in her ear. Darla would clasp her close, and feel the smoothness of her skin
and the sex... the sex would have been wonderful and intimate and a loving
union, not the loveless coupling of her life and half-life so far.

Of course, this had reckoned without Dawn's revulsion for her. Darla couldn't
understand it - she was attractive, had hundreds, probably thousands of
minions hanging on her every whim. She had a sense of humour, she had laughed
all the way through Schindler's List.

None of this made any difference to Dawn, who remained as aloof as when she
had first entered the crypt. If there was a way to her heart, which wasn't
through her ribcage, Darla had yet to find it. Still immortality had taught
her patience, one-day Dawn would fall in love with her.

* * *

Trudi winced as Faith rubbed the cream onto her naked ass. Beside her lay
Carla, she too had her skirt up and her panties down. However a mixture of
Faith's soft hands and the ointment had reduced the weals and bruising to a
some slight red marks which were fading away.

"Done," said Faith and stood up. Trudi moved a hand and rubbed at her ass,
the ripped flesh was healing itself and as they did the pain fled away like
a vampire from sunlight.

"What was that stuff?" asked Carla.

Faith screwed the top on the jar and replaced it in her backpack, which was
the only personal item on show in her room.

"Something I picked up when I was a slayer. We... they get injured a lot.
Best to have something to heal the wounds," she sounded wistful for a second,
as if remembering past adventures.

"She shouldn't have done it," continued Faith. And then Trudi felt the
ex-slayer's lips lightly kissing at her butt cheeks.

For a second Trudi wondered if she should say something, did keeping quiet
show disloyalty to the mistress? She opened her lips, at the same time as
Faith opened hers and ran her tongue lightly over the teen's cheek and then
down between her thighs to near her twat. Trudi remained silent.

Not so Carla, "We failed the mistress. She was right to punish us," she let
out a sob, though Trudi was unsure whether that was because she was ashamed
she had not stopped Darla or whether she was remembering the thrashing she
had received.

There was no answer from Faith, as she had her mouth full licking away at
the top of Trudi's pussy. The teen hoisted herself up slightly to allow the
brunette to move deeper in, and Faith did so. There was a sudden moan from
Carla and Trudi turned to her head to see the redhead biting her bottom lip,
a mixed look of concentration and lust on her face.

Moving her head slightly Trudi was able to see that the cause of this sudden
moan was that Faith had stuck a couple of finger in the redhead's slit and
was working on ensuring the lubrication was flowing.

Then any thought of what was happening to her neighbour was replaced by her
own pleasure as Faith's exploring tongue found what it had been looking for.
Trudi squealed in pleasure, hoping that the Mistress wouldn't hear, but
unable to contain the gleeful pleasure Faith was producing in her insides.

Pulling her head away, Faith spoke again, "No Carla, she went too far."

This time the only answer from the redhead was an orgasmic moan.

* * *

"So this is the place," asked Faith. Absently kicking a small chunk of
brickwork, which had fallen to the floor she stared again at the mausoleum
in one of Sunnydale's less salubrious cemeteries. It seemed a strange place
for the so-called Queen of the Vampires to make her lair, the outside was
cracked, and much of the surface was covered in either ivy or moss.

Glory nodded, "It took me a couple of weeks, but I've tracked her here." Her
face twisted in a snarl, "No-one steals from me, no-one."

Around her the slaves all nodded and murmured their agreement. Unlike
normally they weren't dressed in the sluttish outfits that Glory preferred,
but in military camouflage, with infra-red goggles and body armour. The
weapons they clasped nervously in their hands, were the most modern
anti-vampire devices available, capable of firing 20 mini-wooden stakes a
second. Any vampire that got in their way would be pulverised - at least in
theory.

Looking at her watch, Glory began to count, "One, two, three..."

* * *

There was a sudden shower of dust from the ceiling. Dawn looked up from the
book she was reading as the dust floated down. A hollow boom was echoing from
outside, muffled by the walls of her room.

She listened. Even through the solid oak of her door she could hear the
sounds of vampires running, then what sounded like fireworks and screams of
pain and fear.

The door opened so quickly that Dawn staggered backwards. It was Darla, her
hair was awry, her normally immaculate clothing dishevelled and torn, and she
kept wiping away blood that trickled from her forehead and threatened to leak
into her eye.

"Come on," shouted Darla, and grabbed Dawn's hand.

As she had done everyday for a fortnight, Dawn snatched it back. Normally
Darla's reaction was a grief stricken look, like a small child who had been
told he wasn't allowed to stay up late to see Granny come in with presents.
But this time Darla looked panic stricken, and she reacted as people doing
when their minds are being overloaded with fear and tension.

Dawn fell stunned to the floor, part of her mind thinking she had finally
pushed the Vampire too far, another part surprised that anyone who claimed to
love her would floor her with one punch. She could feel Darla hoisting her up
and draping her over her shoulder as easily as she was a sheet for the
laundry.

Then Darla was running. In Dawn's eyes what followed was a kaleidoscope of
images, red and oranges flashes, piles of dust blowing on the floor, a woman
crying pitifully for her mistress as she lay in a pool of blood, darkness,
screams and cries, orders, oaths. Bloody war in all its false glory.

Then they were out into the midnight darkness and Darla was running through
the graveyard, leaping over tombstones and obstructions, her legs pounding as
she ran for some safe place.

Suddenly Darla stopped, she put Dawn onto the ground carefully. Dawn crawled
from behind her legs to see what had given the vampire pause.

Striding towards them was a teenage brunette, with her dark hair and
clothing, it was only her face that stood out in the night air. As she came
closer Dawn could see she was twirling a wooden stake in her right hand, a
gesture of both calm unconcern and terrifying professionalism.

Looking at Darla, Dawn could see that unlike the teen she had positioned
herself in a fighting stance, her whole body was tense and she was scanning
the horizon for reinforcements, from either side.

Staggering to her feet Dawn watched as the teen continued to stride purposely
towards them.

"Darla, I presume," she drawled, "You have something of my boss, and she
wants it back."

Darla took a step backwards and Dawn could see her judging the amount of
space between herself and her leather-clad opponent. She forced her face into
a smile, "The ex-slayer I presume..." her voice laid emphasis on the 'ex'.

"Still enough of a slayer to dust your ass," Faith's composure slipped
momentarily and she stepped forward slightly.

It wasn't near enough for a fatal blow, but it was near enough that when
Darla's foot lashed out she had to somersault backwards. Her landing was
ungainly and it took a second to right herself. It was a small pause, but
long enough for Darla to turn to Dawn briefly, "Run."

Dawn remained where she was, unsure what to do. Faith was running towards
Darla her stake pointed outwards. Darla twisted aside and brought a fist
sideways at Faith's head. It didn't connect as the teen rolled away.

"Fly you fool," Darla shouted again, and turned to face Faith as she again
moved in.

Dawn ran.

* * *

It was the glow of the cigarette that guided Glory to where Faith was
standing. The teen was puffing away, and for the first time in their
acquaintance Glory saw that she was shaking. There was a rip in her
leather jacket, exposing the bare flesh from shoulder to elbow. Blood
dripped down from the cuff of the same arm, mixing with a pile of ash
beside which the ex-slayer stood.

"She's dead, then," Glory said as she approached.

Dropping the cigarette into the heap of dust, Faith nodded. "One vamp, less."
She drove her foot down hard into collection of ashes, stamping out the
glowing ember of the cigarette. "Tougher than she looked," she continued.

Glory nodded impatiently, "And the Slayer's daughter."

"She escaped," said Faith and walked back towards the entrance.
_ _ _

If you have any comments on this or any other of my stories, e-mail me at:
lipsticklesbian72 at lycos.com

    

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