This is my attempt at a slash story although it’s not really slashy since I couldn’t bring myself to give my victim to one of the male characters in the series! The story takes place just after the ‘Superstar’ episode in Season 4 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. However I like to think that you don’t have to watch the series to enjoy this. The back-story is that a minor character from the series, Jonathan, cast a spell to make himself the main character of the show, adored and worshipped by everybody else. The spell has now been broken and everyone is pissed at him.


Jonathan turned away from Buffy and walked off down the path, just pausing once to glance back. There they sat, the Scooby gang, under the tree sharing food, conversation and laughter. Probably laughing at him. He’d really done it this time. His face burnt with shame. That episode in the clocktower had been humiliating enough; Buffy realising what a total loser he was, what a complete inability he had to cope with the real world. But this? He clenched his fists as he walked along, almost relishing the sensation of nails digging into flesh. He deserved it. Everything Buffy said just now was true. What a fool he was. What a stupid fucking fool. He’d thought the spell would give him a chance, make him part of the group so he’d finally belong. But all he’d done was to alienate them further and expose himself completely in the bargain. Everybody knew his ultimate fantasies, his sad, desperate yearnings. Sure they were meant to be forgetting it now as Sunnydale worked it’s usual amnesia magic. But Jonathan knew that he could never meet anyone’s eyes in this town again without thinking that he saw that flicker of recollection and disgust. A tear worked its way out of the corner of his eye, trickled down his cheek and dropped from his chin, splashing onto the sidewalk below.

He wandered around campus aimlessly, avoiding the most populated areas and letting these thoughts churn around his brain until it was dusk and no-one else was around anyway. Disgusting. That’s what he was. A ridiculous, disgusting, short, pointless person. He should’ve ended it all back in high school when he’d had the chance. But Buffy had stopped him. And for what? He’d put her in danger and all the people she cared about. No way they’d ever let him into their group now. Not that they’d ever really considered it. He was destined to always be on the outside, looking in and wishing, just wishing.

"Keep your mouth shut and keep walking," he heard the clipped, harsh voice in his ear at the same moment as something heavy was pressed into the base of his spine. A gun? His heart began to hammer in his chest, but he did what he was told and kept walking.

"Good boy," said the voice. A woman. He swivelled his eyes to try to glimpse his captor. She walked behind him and a little to the side, but he could tell that she was about the same height as him. OK slightly taller, but wasn’t everyone? She wore black boots, jeans and sweater and had her long dark brown hair tied off her face in a tight pony tail. Her face was pale and stern.

"M.. Mary?" he stammered. She pressed the gun even harder into his back, making him wince and pick up speed. He shook his head, confused. Mary. The girl from his computing class. They’d worked together on a couple of projects before all this... his face flushed again, wondering how much she’d seen in the past couple of weeks. Did she remember any of it? He’d been working up a real crush on Mary. Guess there was no chance of anything happening now. Not that there ever was.

Mary didn’t respond to his recognition. She kept silent, except for the occasional brusque ‘down here’ or ‘left now’. Jonathan couldn’t figure it, but hey, this was Sunnydale, she was probably just a vampire after his blood. Fair enough. If he couldn’t do the job himself, let her do it for him. As good an ending as any round here. Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d turn him into a vampire too. He almost laughed as he imagined himself all frowny and pointy-toothed. No, he’d be as poor a vampire as he was a human.

They’d left the campus far behind and were now out on the edge of town. ‘In here’ Mary said gruffly, pushing him towards a gate. A gate that led into a graveyard. Looks like I was right, Jonathan thought. And yes, into a crypt. Vampires are so predictable. He felt kind of sad inside though. Not so much for himself, but Mary had been such a cool person, really kind. She’d even nearly convinced him that she’d actually enjoyed working with him on those projects. And now she was all changed and dead and evil. What a shitty world. He’d be well rid of it.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the crypt. Mary kicked the heavy door closed behind them and it slammed shut with a thud. There were pools of light where big white candles had been lit around the edges of the room, stuck to the floor in puddles of their own wax. Other than that, the crypt was grey and dusty, with stone tombs around the sides and an empty space in the middle. Mary marched him over to that space. "Raise your arms," she snapped, pressing the gun into his spine again so he cried out.

Since when did vampires start carrying guns? And since when did they start tying people up before biting them? He wondered this as she fastened the shackles onto his wrists. He looked up and saw that he was chained to the roof of the crypt. As he looked, Mary swiftly knelt down and fastened his ankles to the floor.

Jonathan felt that he recognised this scene. He was to be a sacrifice to... something. He just hoped the something went in for quick and painless rather than long and lingering. God he wished he wasn’t still a virgin. That must be why they’d chosen him. He knew he should’ve taken his chance with the Scandinavian twins while they were under his spell, but somehow he hadn’t been able to bring himself to. It just hadn’t felt right. He could kick himself for it now though. Well, he could if his feet hadn’t been shackled to the floor.

Mary strode round in front of him and looked him directly in the eyes. Hers flashed dark with an expression of such rage and fury that he had to turn away. Maybe she was the demon, not just its minion.

"Look at me," she ordered, and he reluctantly met her gaze. Her anger seemed to have reduced to a simmering point. She was in control.

"I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve brought you here," she said, lip twitching at the cliché.

Jonathan was pretty sure he’d already guessed correctly, but he decided not to push it. "Y...yes?" he managed.

"I stumbled over this place a few months ago," she explained, walking around him so that he had to crane his neck to follow her. " I was just out for a walk and the door was open. Don’t know what all this was used for before," she tweaked one of the chains above him, " but whoever once used it is long gone. I didn’t think anything of it until today, but when I was considering what to do it came right back to me.v

" Wh... what to do about what?"

Mary’s smile twisted again. It made Jonathan feel even more uncomfortable than he already felt with his arms tethered to the ceiling. " What to do about you of course," she replied. " Specifically, what to do about the fact that you completely humiliated me with all your jumped-up Harry Potter crap."

Jonathan gawped at her. "You remember? Buffy said everyone was forgetting."

She raised an eyebrow. " Yes," she said wearily, "everyone except me it seems. My memory is crystal fucking clear. Oh yes." She began counting off on her fingers, "I remember spending all my money on your calendars, posters and other ‘merchandise’. I remember standing outside the stage door all night when you were singing at The Bronze waiting to catch a glimpse. I remember plastering my room with three hundred and seventy five pictures of you. Yes I counted. Everybody thought I was a complete loser, even though they were all obsessed with you too. I went beyond obsession."

"I’m sorry..." Jonathan began

"Don’t even," she snapped. "I’m not finished yet. I haven’t mentioned the crying myself to sleep every night, the going through your rubbish bins to find something you’d touched, the queuing for hours when your book came out and missing my class test. Oh the list goes on."

She stopped, but he didn’t try to apologise again. He just looked miserably at the floor.

"So you made my life a living hell for the past fortnight," Mary began in a sing-song voice. "I asked myself ...what can I do to make myself feel better? And eventually I came up with this."

"Th... this?"

"A bit of tit for tat. Retribution. Revenge. Punishment. Call it what you like. It’s going to make me feel one whole lot better." She paused, something wistful entering her tone, "not sure what it’s going to do for you."

"You brought me here to p... punish me?" Jonathan was incredulous.

"Didn’t really bring you here, you came along happily enough."

"The gun," he protested.

She dug her hand into the pocket of her jeans and took out... a mobile phone. "Your imagination," she grinned. "Now then, where did I put my stuff?"

Jonathan just managed to stop himself from the inevitable "st...stuff?" His mind was raging. Not a vampire. Not a demon. She just wanted to... punish him. What could that mean? He supposed a grim and painful death was still a possibility, but she was a human and he’d never taken her for the murderous type. Punish him? The words went round his brain, flicking over the possible connotations. Suddenly he was aware of a pressure between his legs. The heat rushed to his face again.

Mary turned around from rummaging in a trunk over on one of the tombs. She was holding an object in both of her hands. One was a long, black, stick, kind of... a riding crop he realised, his face reddening further. Then he noticed what was in her other hand and he blanched. A knife.

She monitored his reactions amused. "Oh don’t worry sweety," she said, bringing the knife up in front of her grey eyes so the blade glittered in the candlelight, "this isn’t for you." He didn’t believe her though because she strode over to him and brought the knife right in front of his face. He closed his eyes tight and tensed his body waiting for the cut, his heart pounding in his ears. He’d heard that being stabbed felt like being punched. Well he’d been punched before and that hurt like hell... his mind churned.

And then he felt the blade against the skin of his neck, but not hard enough to pierce the skin. She moved it downwards and he heard the rip of cloth, the buttons of his sweater pinging off as she cut it open.

And then he felt the blade against the skin of his neck, but not hard enough to pierce the skin. She moved it downwards and he heard the rip of cloth, the buttons of his sweater pinging off as she cut it open.
He opened his eyes cautiously. She was intent on her task, slicing open his sweater, first down the front and then along each arm so it fell onto the floor around him. Then she tossed the knife aside onto the dusty floor. "You getting this yet sweety?" she asked, a wicked glint in her eye.

Slowly, very slowly, he nodded.

She ran her gaze appreciatively down his smooth chest to his belly and he blushed again. She noted it and smiled. Then she reached for his belt buckle with one hand, the other still holding the crop by her side. She deftly unbuckled and unzipped his jeans, letting them fall till they lay round his ankles.

Now there was only the thin cotton of his boxer shorts between him and her. She raised the crop slightly, making his gaze shift to the movement. Instantly he felt the tightening in his groin again, unable to prevent it.

She smirked. "I see," she said softly. "I had wondered."

Jonathan felt a mixture of crippling embarrassment and intense arousal. Mary leaned in and grabbed the elastic of his boxers, gently pulling them over his hips and down his legs to join his jeans. Then she took a step back and stared at him without a trace of shame on her face.

Jonathan, on the other hand, hung his head, mortified. This was the first time a woman had looked at him...there since the football jocks at school had ripped off his pants and shoved him into the girls’ locker room.

She let her gaze rest on him for a few moments more, then met his eyes. "Guess one thing didn’t have to change when you became a superstar."

Jonathan blinked. Twice.

She grinned again and then began to walk slowly around to the back of him, appraising him in a way that would have been undressing him with her eyes if he hadn’t already been, well, undressed.

He stood there, knowing that she was standing behind him, watching his exposed body, herself fully clothed. His whole face and chest were pink with humiliation. But his erection still stood out proud and defiant in front of him.

Suddenly a voice in his ear. "You’re not supposed to enjoy being punished you know sweety."
He nodded. Unable to speak.

He felt something on the back of his neck. The tip of the crop. Slowly she traced the length of his spine, then twisted the crop round to bring it flat up against his buttocks. His legs felt weak, like jelly, but he tried to stand firm.

Then with a crack the crop whisked back and landed with a thwack on his naked behind. He cried out in shock as much as pain, feeling a welt raise up instantly on his vulnerable flesh. The crop left his skin and he stood there in terrible, wonderful anticipation until it slapped down again and again, three times in quick succession. Each time he cried out loud. It was really hard. The pain shot up his nerves till his whole backside felt like it was in flames. He longed for something to sooth it. Almost as much as he longed for the crop to land again.

Mary flicked the crop against him a couple of times gently teasing him with it, making his buttocks clench which only made them hurt more. He whimpered at the touch.
"Think you can take some more," she whispered, her voice breaking halfway through the sentence. This was getting to her too.

He didn’t think he could talk. After what she’d discovered about him how could he ever speak in her presence? But he surprised himself by stammering "y...yes."

That was all she needed. The crop landed again and again, up a little, down across the backs of his thighs, but mostly in her favoured place, smack across his quivering buttocks. He lost count of the number of times it rose and fell, just giving himself over to the exquisite agony. His legs finally gave way completely and he fell forward, bent over at the waist, just hanging from the chains that attached his wrists to the ceiling. She landed a couple of blows at this new angle, then finally stopped.

Jonathan let out a low moan of pain? Pleasure? He didn’t know what any more. His butt was on fire and his eyes stung with tears of humiliation, but he also felt more incredibly alive than he ever had before in his whole pathetic life.

Slowly Mary walked round to stand before him again. Her face shone with sweat and her eyes gleamed from the exertion. Her breath came in ragged bursts almost matching his own. He didn’t know how he dared, but he met her eyes defiantly.

She laughed, breathlessly. "My god sweety, you sure know how to take it."

He hung his head again. She said "no that’s good silly."

She moved in closer, helping him to stand up again. Then she grabbed his chin firmly in her hand and raised his face up close to her own, just inches away. They stared at one another for what seemed like an age. Then finally he caved.

"Please," he begged.

She looked delighted. "Please what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Please Mary..."

"How can I know what you want unless you tell me?"

His eyes sank to the floor again. "Please... touch me?"

"Oh it’s touching you want." She stepped back a pace. "I’ll give you more than touching sweety. You are still a virgin I take it."

A long pause. "Yes."

"Then I’m going to take your virginity. Right here. Right now."

She walked away from him to the dark side of the crypt, out of his sight.

Jonathan’s erection strained at the thought of this incredible woman having sex with him. What would she want to do? She’d have to take him down surely. He couldn’t figure the logistics of it if he was standing like this. Unless she wrapped her legs around him... or maybe she was planning to use her mouth...

Suddenly she came into view again. She’d lost her jeans, boots and sweater and was now wearing just a tight, black cropped top and matching hot pants. But that wasn’t what Jonathan was looking at. Between her legs, also black, was a dildo, attached around her hips with leather straps and silver buckles.

He let his breath out fast. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding it in.

She laughed. "Well what were you expecting?" she teased. Then she walked quickly to stand behind him again. She grabbed a handful of his dark hair and yanked his head back. "Are you ready to be fucked sweety?"

He moaned. The only vocalisation he was remotely capable of.

"I’ll take that as an affirmative." He felt her hand against his buttocks once more and he winced as the welts burned hot under her touch. But there was something cold and soothing against his skin. Tenderly she parted his cheeks and rubbed the cool substance against his hole. He gasped. Her face rested against his and she still held his hair in her other hand. Her finger slowly entered him and he gasped again.

"That OK sweety?" she asked, her voice filled with a tenderness he hadn’t noticed before. "You say if it gets too much." She loosened her hold on him enough for him to nod slightly.

He felt another finger join the one that was there, stretching him apart, working the lubricant up deep inside him. He loved the feel of her fingers against the most private part of him. He pushed back against her and groaned.

She said "oh yeah, you like that huh?"

A nod. She removed her fingers. Time hung suspended around them. Finally she whispered in his ear, "what do you want?"

Another long silence and then huskily he managed "fuck me."

That was all she needed. He felt the rubber against him and then pushing, piercing all the way inside him. It felt impossibly large. It felt like he was being torn apart. It felt perfect. He leaned back into her and she let his hair go, bringing her hand back in front of him and gently taking hold of his erection. "Oh please," he whimpered.
And then she pulled back and thrust into him, hard, at the same time moving her other hand down his cock. "Oh god," he yelled, as she thrust into him again and again, her hand matching the rhythm stroke for stroke. He felt completely taken, completely overpowered, her enveloping and penetrating him simultaneously. Inside his body. Inside his mind. He was no longer aware of the noises he made as she brought him up to a peak of utter ecstasy and complete loss of control.

She held him there for a few seconds before pumping into him and grasping him hard one final time. He screamed and came, his semen splattering the floor in front of them.

They stood there for a while, her cradling his body against hers, still occupying him. Then in a daze he was vaguely aware of her slowly pulling out, unfastening the shackles that held him and helping him lower himself to the ground. She unfastened his ankles too and laid him back on something soft, a pile of rugs, pulling one over on top of them.

They lay there like spoons, her holding him, pressed up warm against his back, tenderly stroking his cheek. At that point the tears began, slowly at first, but then streaming down his face, his chest jolting with the power of the sobs that wracked through his body. She held him throughout, until they finally subsided. "It’s OK sweety," she murmured, "It’s really OK."

"How is it OK?" he sniffed. "God I’m so ashamed of what I did. How can I face them all?"

She knew he didn’t mean the sex. That’s what he’d needed to let go of all the pain inside him.

"We’ll face them together. I’ll be there. You’ll be fine."


"Yeah. You didn’t think I was going anywhere did you?"

"I thought..."

"I love you you idiot. I’ve loved you for ages. That’s why I was so mad about what you did to me. S’probably why I remember it all too."

Jonathan was silent. Then "Oh."

"Oh. Is that it? How about "I love you too?""

A smile gradually reached his lips and he snuggled into her "I love you too."

The End

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