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"Dru luv, why is there a party hat attached to the back of your dress?"
Looking up from coating a chocolate cake with blood infused frosting, Drusilla glanced over her shoulder at the pink and blue cone shaped hat she'd sewn to the hip of her skirt.
"It's a bustle. I miss bustles," she murmured, then returned to spreading frosting.
Spike smiled indulgently and leaned against the refrigerator in their current summer house in Maine. The original owners had tragically died of extreme blood loss on their arrival for their vacation.
Hopefully no one would miss them for at least a month. It was nice here on the sea, not too hot, and the evenings were filled with clam bakes and fireworks and concerts, all things that made Drusilla happy.
And his whole existence centered on making Drusilla happy.
"What are we celebrating?"
She gave a trill of laughter and reached for a box of birthday candles. "My birthday, silly."
"Luv, your birthday isn't until November," Spike gently reminded her.
Frowning, Drusilla carefully counted out candles and began to place them on the cake. "My real birthday, " she mumbled between counting.
"...Oh." Spike frowned slightly. It wasn't usually a good thing for Drusilla to remember her life as a human.
Suddenly she turned, trembling, eyes filling with tears, and whimpered, "I don't remember how old I am."
Spike pushed away from the refrigerator and quickly gathered her into his arms. "Shh, shh, sweetness, it's okay. We're eternal. Age doesn't matter."
"But the candles have to be right and there are too many, I'm sure there are too many."
Glancing over her shoulder as he ran his hands slowly up and down her trembling back, Spike saw that the cake was liberally festooned with candles. Every bit of the top and some of the sides had the little pink wax bits sticking from it.
He held back an instinctive chuckle and looked down into Drusilla's wide, tear-filled eyes. "The candles are lovely. We'll light them tonight and feast in their glow."
Her tears faded and she raised her hands to cup his cheeks. "And what shall we do till then?"
He gave her a roguish grin and she simpered, then pulled free of him and danced out of the kitchen.
Spike followed her, hoping to find her pulling off her clothes, but instead he found her digging in their old traveling chest. At the sight of the old, silver brush she pulled out, his heart sank.
"Since Daddy's not here, you will give me my birthday spanking, right Spike?" The wistful hope in her eyes was too much for him and he nodded.
Smiling broadly Drusilla rose to her feet and handed him the heavy brush.
He took it reluctantly, his fingers unconsciously tracing the engravings on the back, his mind remembering replicas of those marks on her body on too many occasions.
Angelus had enjoyed making him watch as he beat her for any of a dozen minor transgressions. His favorite position was over his crooked arm, her dress and petticoats over her head, the brush raining down on her bare bottom while she kicked her heels and squealed in pain and arousal.
Spike preferred a more civilized position.
As Drusilla fidgeted before him, gnawing delicately on her lower lip in anticipation, Spike tapped the brush in his open palm, feeling the weight of both the silver and the years. Walking over to the old velvet settee he made himself comfortable, then beckoned for her.
Drusilla nearly tripped over her own feet in her eagerness.
How long had it been since he'd spanked her?
Obviously, too long, since he couldn't remember.
"So, how many, Dru?"
"One for each year, and one to grow on, but I can't remember..."
As her eyes clouded with fresh tears, Spike quickly offered, "How about fifty, then?"
"I'm older than that."
"Fifty, Drusilla," he replied, firmly.
She gave him a disgruntled look, but then nodded.
"Over my knees then, pet."
Hoisting her long skirt, Drusilla gracefully draped herself over Spike's lap, her toes braced on the floor and one elbow propped on the couch. Glancing over her shoulder she watched as he smoothed her dress up higher, brushing aside the silly party hat, and baring her bottom.
A shiver went through her and wetness seeped from between her legs.
"You are not to come, Drusilla, do you understand?" He patted her bottom lightly with the brush as he spoke.
"Yes sir," she whimpered blissfully.
Placing one hand firmly on her back, Spike brought the flat side of the brush down on her rear end with a resounding smack. Drusilla whimpered again and squirmed. Spike watched the red mark fade before he spanked her again, this time on the other cheek.
"Ooh, Spike..."
Drusilla's head fell forward and a dreamy look formed on her face.
Spike smacked her again, quickly settling into a comfortable rhythm as he silently counted the blows. After twenty, Drusilla groaned deep in her throat and he caught a glimpse of her fingers digging into the couch. Her bottom was turning a bright red, and he knew she was in pain.
The leg of his trousers was nearly soaked through with her lust.
Running his fingers lightly over the red marks, Spike listened to her moan, and watched her squirm into his touch. He brought the brush down again and Drusilla bucked, howling his name. Her legs kicked up and one hand went back to shield her throbbing flesh.
Spike barked a warning, "Drusilla."
"Sorry, sorry, sir," she pled, forcing her hand away from rubbing her bruises and back down to the floor.
"We're not even half-way done and you're trying to stop me?"
"No, no, I promise."
Smiling at her submissiveness, Spike spanked her again, harder, and noted that, although her body tensed, she basically remained still. "Good girl." He resumed the spanking, alternating between glowing cheeks, until the forty-third blow when she again writhed and tried to scramble from his lap.
Spike wasn't concerned that he was really damaging her--he'd seen her go through multiple orgasms while having the skin flayed from her back. So, she was playing a game.
Despite his initial misgivings about spanking her, he was fully into it now.
And he was quite willing to play.
Setting aside the brush, Spike yanked Drusilla off his lap and to her feet. As she knuckled tears from her eyes with one hand, the other went back to rub her abused flesh through her skirt.
"I am very disappointed in you, Drusilla."
"I'm sorry, sir," she replied meekly, her eyes on the floor.
"We have seven left, though I really think I should start over."
Her eyes blinked upwards rapidly as she begged prettily. "Oh, no sir, please. I'll be good."
Spike rose to his feet, once again brandishing the brush. "I've seen no evidence of that." With the brush, he pointed to the high arm of the couch. "Place yourself there. If your hands try to interfere, you will find them restrained for two weeks."
"Yes, sir." She quickly moved to obey him, dragging her skirt up over her hips before she draped herself over the arm of the couch and dug her hands beneath one of the cushions.
Taking a position beside her, Spike lifted the brush and brought it down hard. Drusilla yelped and wriggled, but didn't try to stop him. He hit her again and again, watching the patterns form on her formerly white skin. Taking one buttock in his hand, he rolled her forward, exposing the still pale flesh beneath. A loud smack made her shriek in pain and left her with an ugly bruise forming.
Spike repeated the action to her other upper leg, then concentrated on those tender spots, hitting her several times and going over the fifty mark. He figured she deserved a few extra spanks for disobeying.
He knew she wouldn't mind.
Tears spilled down Drusilla's cheeks and she began to sob brokenly. Closing his eyes briefly and letting the scent and sound wash over him, Spike spanked her one final time, then sighed softly.
He opened his eyes and admired his handiwork. He didn't like that she enjoyed pain so much, but he didn't always mind giving it to her.
And she was so lovely squirming and mewling bent over like that, her bottom bright red, just a glimpse of dark curls visible between her spread legs, the aroma of her arousal filling the air.
His cock twitched and he finally acknowledged his own arousal which had been pressing against his zipper since he'd put her over his lap. Adjusting himself, he walked over to the chest and replaced the brush before closing the lid. As he turned around, he caught Drusilla's tear-filled eyes on him.
"May I get up?" she asked submissively.
Spike nodded and she rose gracefully to her feet, smoothing her skirt down her trembling legs. He smirked as she pressed the silk against her mound.
"Would you like me to give you your birthday kiss now, luv?"
Drusilla gave him a puzzled look, but nodded and brushed the tears from her lips.
His smirk deepened. "Not there."
She was clearly baffled and he reached out and snagged her around the waist, pulling her against his taut body. He patted her bottom and she moaned in pain.
"Where then?" she whispered, lifting her face eagerly to his.
"On your pretty cunny, my pet.
Drusilla's eyes widened and then she gave him a wicked smile. "I'm oh so wet and slippery."
"I'll drink you dry," he replied, his voice hoarse with lust as he spun her around and gave her a push towards the bedroom.
"Oh, yes, my Spike." Pulling her dress over her head, Drusilla ran for the large feather bed.
Licking his lips, Spike followed her, eagerly anticipating the heady lust he was about to taste.
The End