And Justice For All...


Sleep To Dream

Willow was asleep with her head on the keyboard again.

When she did that, Giles felt torn. He knew he should wake her up and send her home; but all he wanted to do was watch her sleep. Her auburn hair, having worked itself loose from the neat braids, fell over her eyes. The cold gray light of the monitor reflected off her skin. She smiled in her sleep.

He wondered once again why this girl spent her nights in the school library. From observing the interaction of the students, he knew that a girl with a flair for "hacking," as they called it, was no longer doomed to social isolation. Plenty of young men -- and, for that matter, young women -- would be happy to date a girl this smart and lovely, not to mention a girl who could change school records at will. So why was she sleeping away yet another evening in the gloomy library?

Moving closer to her, he glanced at the computer screen, then gaped. The photo on the screen was of a riding crop raised above the round, pale buttocks of shapely female. The hand that held the crop was heavily ringed, but androgynous. Leaning closer, over Willow's shoulder, Giles read the words that scrolled down the side of the screen

"No self-control," I say. "That's your problem."
I take out the flogger. And then the crop. And then slowly, I take off my belt.
"Oh, please," she says. Not listening, I tie her legs together and roll her onto her stomach..."

Giles, suddenly remembering to breathe, drew in a quick gasp. But by now he was leaning so far over Willow's sleeping form that the sharp sound near her ear woke her.

She jerked upright in surprise, brushing his cheek with her soft hair as he backed quickly away. Fearing the Hellmouth's worst, Willow turned in terror and stared over her shoulder. Finally fully awake, she recognized Giles and relaxed, then abruptly turned a fiery pink as she realized what was on the screen. Her hand came sharply down on the keyboard and her usually nimble fingers fumbled to close the window.

"I -- um -- I was -- was..." she stuttered and then paused. "I don't suppose you would believe me if I said I was studying?" Willow sighed. "No, I guess not."

She looked up into his eyes, then back at the screen, now showing the familiar Sunnydale High logo. How could she be so dumb to let Giles, of all people, discover her secret? Now he must think she was some kind of pervert.

"It could be worse..." Giles began.

"How?" Willow asked mournfully.

"You could have been writing that -- ahem -- text, instead of reading it."

Willow giggled, covering her mouth, then burst out laughing. "How do you know I wasn't."

"I'm not quite that computer illiterate."

"Ms. Calendar taught you something?" Willow teased, then regretted the mention of her name. They seemed to be kind of distant since that demon possession thing.

"It's truly all right, Willow. " Giles reassured her. "We are...quite comfortable now. "

"I'm so glad." Willow said, wondering to herself if she really was.


A long silence ensued, neither of them quite sure where to take the conversation. Giles recovered first.

"So, may I ask how you found yourself in that...literary site." he began.

"I was researching when I first found it."

"You've read that before? And went back to it?" Clearly there was something he had missed in all of his observation of the girl.

"I was researching vampires...I found links to some humans who think they are 'real vampires.'" Willow was in more familiar territory now and Giles found himself inwardly relieved -- and strangely disappointed -- that this was merely "slayer business." "Those sites linked to sites about something called 'blood sports' then from there to S and M sites and..."

"Sports?" interrupted Giles, hoping that he sounded ignorant. " I rather thought that sports referred to cricket and rugby and such."

"Well, it seems that some of these people take their 'games' kind These people use knives and's part of S and M. They do all sorts of things with canes and whips and they tie each other up when they youknow but they negotiate first and have a safeword and..." Willow gulped.

"Yes...well...I have heard of such things, but you seem to know quite a bit more than I."

"I do?" Willow paused. Then an oddly appealing possibility occurred to her. "Have you ever..."

"Damn," thought Giles, wondering how to get out of this discomfiting predicament. Would Willow's own excuse suffice?

"I have, " Giles said aloud, "read the books of the Marquis de Sade and Von Sacher-Masoch of course. Basic Watcher curriculum. De Sade himself may have been at least partially demon; his home was near a known hellmouth. The Watcher of his era researched the Marquis in depth, but he was imprisoned before the Watcher's research came to fruition."

"Sadism is named after him," Willow chimed in, "I read some of one of his books that Xander found in the used book store and he gave it to me as a joke then I had to hide it under my bed so my mom...well anyway, I read some of it but what he did to those girls wasn't consensual, like he tortured them without them having any agreement beforehand or being able to stop the scene...."

"Willow, how much do you actually know about this? " asked Giles sharply.

"I only read. Really. I haven't done anything or anything. Just reading and researching and..." She was standing, backing towards the door.

"It's all right, Willow, I won't tell anyone."

She turned in the doorway. "Not even Buffy?"

"Not even Buffy." He repeated. Certainly not Buffy, he thought to himself.

As Willow waved an awkward farewell and ran down the hallway, Giles turned back to the computer. It was really quite convenient to keep the "slayerettes" as they called themselves, in the dark about his newfound computer skill. Willow, in her panic, had not actually closed the website-viewing program, but merely "minimized" it. Now if he could only remember which button reopened the bloody thing. There.

The photo reappeared. Giles sank slowly into the chair as he resumed reading where he had left off. He clicked the mouse to scroll down to the next photo. The crop had left a thin red welt on the callipygian model. Giles felt himself become aroused as he lost himself in the images described in the text. Alone in the dark library he closed his eyes. In his mind's eye the story continued. His hands ran roughly up the female torso to weave his fingers in the soft silk of her hair.

Willows hair.

His eyes opened. He sat staring into the darkness for a long time before he locked up the library and went out into the night.


At home, Willow listened to her voicemail: Buffy and Xander wondering why she wasn't at the Bronze, Buffy again wanting to gossip about Angel, then Xander wanting to talk about Cordelia. For someone he hated, she sure was a constant topic of conversation recently.

Let them solve their own problems tonight, Willow thought to herself, The therapist is not in.

She loved Buffy and Xander, but they could be a bit self-self-involved. Sometimes Willow felt like as long as she still was human, they would never notice her. She'd get more attention if she was a vampire or possessed or something.

And I was worried that Giles would tell them about my "special" reading. Like they would even care. I'd have to be posing naked for "Playboy's Women of the Internet" for them to notice, and then Xander would just say "Isn't it kind of cold for that, Willow?" And Buffy wouldn't notice unless I was doing stuff with Angel. She giggled. Or Giles.

Even alone in her room, Willow blushed at the thought.

Giles. Giles knows. I'm not sure how much he knows, but he knows. And he didn't get mad or anything. Didn't yell at me for using his library that way, didn't say I'm too young to be reading things like that. He acted like I was just doing Slayerette research. Darn. Maybe he thinks I'm so naive that it doesn't matter. Like I couldn't have any experience or even desires or...needs.

Needs. I wonder if Giles has needs? No, he has Miss Calendar. I bet she does all kind of experienced-woman-of-the-world sorts of things. I bet she knows a thousand positions and how to use the things in all those catalogues. I bet she has a four-poster bed with ropes attached to each corner.

I wonder what it feels like to tied up? I wonder if it feels really vulnerable with someone looking at you all spread out like that? I wonder what you do if your nose starts to itch.

Willow giggled again.

I'm losing it. It was late and she really needed to sleep if she wanted to get anything done tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Oh yeah, no school. No Giles. The weekend. Sitting around at the Bronze with Xander, talking to friends online, writing a rough draft of her term paper, patrolling the mall with Buffy just in case there are demons or vampires at Contempo Casuals.

Taking off her shirt, she giggled again. I could get into this normal teenage girl thing.

She slipped off her bra, wiggled out of her jeans and stood in turquoise bikini panties in front of her mirror. While unbraiding and shaking out her hair, she stared thoughtfully at her body. She tried to shut out the voices of ads in Glamour telling her that she was plain, not feminine, too serious, not sexy. She tried to see herself in the eyes of someone apart from all that. Someone who maybe didn't read popular magazines. Someone who knew nothing about Calvin Klein and Claudia Schiffer. Someone who spent a lot of time in a dark library...

Her pubic hair itched, distracting her. She slipped an unconscious hand into her panties to scratch and found herself...wet. She rubbed an experimental finger down there, then looked around guiltily. Embarrassed, she crawled quickly under the covers.

What's that about? Was it from looking at her own body? The thought of being tied to a bed? The story she had been reading? Giles?

Giles was her last thought as she drifted to sleep with one hand between her legs.


It was late, almost midnight, by the time Giles approached Jenny's place, striding anxiously through the winter fog. This was the hour she had told him to arrive and he was running late, distracted by the evening's events.

Should I mention it to Jenny? I did promise Willow that I wouldn't tell anyone; does that include Jenny? What if she demands to know how it made me feel? She always wants to hear such things. And she always knows if I'm prevaricating. It only results in more trouble...

Giles' ruminations were disturbed by a rustling of the bushes. Prepared for any Hellmouth-produced eventuality, Giles peered into the darkness. A dark shadow emerged in the fog, and ran across his path without slowing. The creature was in full vampire-face, yet it showed no interest in him. Giles realized why when Buffy came tearing out of the same clump of shrubbery.

She paused a moment to greet him "Please hold, the slayer will be with you in a moment," she sing-songed brightly and continued her pursuit.

A few moments later Buffy came strolling back, tossing an extra wooden stake in the air and catching it smoothly behind her back. "Hi Giles!" the Slayer said with a cheery smile.

"Buffy. I thought you were to take a holiday from slaying this evening?"

"That wasn't work, that was just a little extracurricular activity. The Bronze was kind of weak and Xander totally disappeared on me, so I decided to jam. Practically fell over that ghoul on the way back to my place. Nothing better to do, so I stopped to slay him on the way home. Kind of like stopping at 7-11 for a carton of milk or something."

"Well, alright, though I do prefer to know if you intend to hunt."

"Chill Giles; no big deal! Just because you suddenly decided I can get a life once a week doesn't mean I have to let a sure thing pass me by. All play and no work, etcetera."

"Yes, alright then, just don't overdo it. Must be heading home, see you tomorrow."

As Giles paced quickly down the sidewalk into the fog, Buffy stood puzzling in the chilly air.

Weird. Giles worrying that I might overdo it? A new-and-improved Giles who let me knock off from Slayer patrol at 11 PM last Friday and told me to take Friday night totally off this week? A Giles who says he's on the way home, but walks off in the opposite direction?

Buffy paused, then brightened.

A Giles who is heading right to Miss Calendar's bachelorette pad!

"Duh" said the Slayer.


Giles checked his watch. 11:58. He stepped up to Jenny's door, then waited. He had made the mistake of arriving four minutes early last week. And paid for it.


As the second hand on his watch joined the other two hands at 12, Rupert Giles rang Jenny Calendar's doorbell. After long moments of waiting and wondering if he should ring again, the door opened.

Giles' mouth opened too, as he caught sight of his beloved. Her dark hair hung loose, almost brushing her shoulders. Her long dress was of black lace, maddeningly semi-transparent and slit high on her thighs on each side. The curves of her small round breasts were visible through the lace. Her waist was cinched tight with a black leather corselet and over the leather she had belted a wine red scarf. Her feet were bare, their nails painted the same dark red.

"Jenny" he breathed.

She said nothing but arched one eyebrow.

Giles shook his head like a wet puppy, shaking off his confusion like water. He took a slow deep breath, trying to calm his rushing desires.

She stood waiting with a small smile of amusement on her lips.

"Oh yes." he murmured apologetically, and dropped to his knees at her feet. "Please forgive me."

Her smile widened, but only slightly. She reached out her long pale fingers to stroke the side of his face. At first her fingertips were feather-light on his cheek, but as they trailed down his neck, she used her nails like claws, leaving four red lines down his throat.

He clapped his hand to his neck, knowing that where it burned she had left marks.

Her laugh bubbled up from deep within her. "Don't worry, Rupert, they'll be gone by sunrise. I know how to make my marks permanent -- and how to leave more transient evidence."

"I just wouldn't want Buffy or anyone to think that I had encountered any...well, you know...inhuman entities." He explained.

"Would the truth be more acceptable to them?" his mistress queried.

"Well, no...of course no." Giles agreed, though he did wonder about Willow...

"Which is why I restrain myself from leaving visible signs -- despite the temptation."

"Oh." Giles replied, and then asked himself silently, Would I have consented to that?

Two months ago I would have sworn I would never do this again, Giles thought.

Kneeling at a lover's feet was definitely something of the past, something left behind when he burned his bridges with Ethan and the rest of that crowd.

Then the night came when Jenny had rolled on top of him, held his wrists down and bit him -- hard. How surprised she had been when he arched up into her teeth, rather than pulled away! How surprised he had been too.

Afterwards, lying in his arms, she spoke of it so easily.

"You like it when I hurt you, don't you Rupert?"

He was so shocked that she had spoken of it aloud that he could barely breathe, much less answer.

"Rupert?" Jenny said sharply, "I asked you a question. A yes or no question."

Her tone commanded and instinctively he responded to the order. "Yes. Yes I do like it."

Jenny had smiled that wide lupine smile that Giles had since learned to fear and crave. A smile that said, "Things are about to get good."

The negotiations had been difficult. Jenny was strict but patient in winnowing out his fondest desires, his secret perversions, his darkest fears and his absolute limits. Giles had experienced some trouble adjusting the matter of fact way in which Jenny demanded such personal information.

Not only had Giles not played these games in over a decade; his early experience of dominance and submission had followed the lines of traditional sadomasochistic pornography. Giles recalled Ethan's voice echoing the anachronistic language of the books he had furtively pored over since adolescence.

Jenny's method of negotiation owed more to modern psychotherapy than to Venus in Furs or The Story of O. His head spun as she introduced him to such concepts as emotional triggers, safewords and personal boundaries. When Jenny finally drifted to sleep as the night sky began to lighten, Giles found himself exhausted and drained as if his lover had drunk from his heart and mind as a vampire drinks from the veins.

Now, tonight, kneeling at her feet, Giles felt awash with gratitude for his mistress' strict attention. The information she had drawn from him had since been put to effective use.

The morning after their long conversation, Jenny had informed him that he would be expected at her door at midnight every Friday.

Since then, she had given no visible clues to the outside world that their relationship had changed. During school hours her demeanor remained professional except for a couple of sweet stolen kisses. In the presence of Buffy and her friends, Jenny appeared to be a paramour of a traditional sort, or at least what passed for traditional in the late 1990s. Until Willow had asked that unfortunate question concerning his own experience of sadomasochism, this world had remained totally separate from the world of the Slayer and her friends.

Even on Giles' frequent evenings alone with Jenny, sitting legs-entwined at opposite ends of the sofa, textbooks and teacups close at hand, Giles could almost believe he had imagined their secret relationship.

And then Friday night came and for a few cherished hours, he was hers to do with what she would. Tormented and safe, Rupert Giles let go of all control.



Willow came slowly awake at the crack of thunder. It took a moment to recognize the sound, so seldom heard in Southern California.

She shook her dream from her head, pausing only a moment to consider it. "A vampire kitten? For Chanukah?"

She looked at the clock. 12:26 AM. Willow closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around her pillow and slept...

Willow was in the library. Except it didn't look like the Sunnydale High Library, it looked like the library that represented all libraries in her dreams, the Sunnydale Public Library Children's Reading Room. As a child, it had been a safe haven for a girl who had books instead of friends.

Giles sat in a huge red leather chair at an extravagantly complicated computer terminal, vaguely resembling a section of the bridge of the Enterprise. He looked up at her, puzzled.

"I'm flummoxed," Giles said to Willow, "Why won't it follow directions?"

"You need to know the right commands." Willow explained, walking towards him.

"Will you show me?"

There were no other chairs. His lap? She found herself sideways on his lap, turning to face the monitor, allowing them both a view of the screen.

"What do you want?" Willow asked.

Giles murmured in her ear, his breath hot on her neck. "I wish to know how to make it submit to my will."

"But Giles, this is Windows 95."

Thunder crackled; Willow giggled in her hazy slumber and half awoke. 12:52 AM. She rolled over and descended once more into sleep...


Jenny never rushed when she was dominating a lover.

"I rush all the time." she once said to an old friend, "Someone's always wanting something from me. One of the things I love about being the top is that time is mine to enjoy or waste as I want. And patience is a virtue I expect in a bottom."

With Rupert especially, she practiced this deliberate slowing of time. More than any past lover, he needed time ripe with silence and peace. Overwhelmed by the extraordinary responsibilities of the Watcher, Rupert needed to be forced to let go of his control-freak tendencies and simply be. She would use the word "grounding" but she wasn't sure he'd heard of it.

Rupert also needed a break from the constant struggle of relating to an alien world. Just communicating with these teens who spoke what must seem a foreign tongue exhausted him. An introvert to the core, Rupert expended most of his emotional energy just remaining present in the world around him. His duties as the Watcher of a young and rebellious Slayer used up the rest.

Jenny grinned a private internal grin. Rupert definitely needed to let someone else take over -- however briefly -- and she was just the woman for the job.

"Rupert, look at me." She raised her lover's face with one hand, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Do you trust me?"


"Do you want this?" Even after all their negotiation, she always asked before each time she took him further.

"Yes, please."

Jenny took the scarf from around her waist and quickly tied it over Giles' eyes, blindfolding him.

"Oh dear." Giles said, in a small whimper.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"I can't see you."

Unbeknownst to Giles, Jenny's face broke into a wide grin. "Or anything else." "Use your other senses," she directed him. "Can you smell me?"

Giles breathed in and found that he was indeed surrounded by her scents. Jasmine oil, beeswax candles, a spiced tea, the slight tang of her fresh sweat blending with the deeper scent of his own fear and desire. In sight Jenny had been right in front of him; in scent she was all around him. "Yes, Jenny." he answered.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes." Giles said, puzzled. Of course he could hear her, she was right in front of him.

"Where am I?" she said from behind him, yet by the time he turned awkwardly, still on his knees, her laugh came from an entirely different direction. "You seem to be absolutely everywhere," he confessed ruefully.

"No," came her voice, soft near his ear, "I'm right here with you." The breath of her words traveled down his cheek as her lips descended to his mouth, then evaded him with barely a kiss.

"Now touch me." Jenny commanded.

He extended his hands tentatively, touching her ankles first with his fingertips, then running his palms up her strong curved calves, feeling the lace of her gown on the backs of his hands. At her knees he forced his hands to stop until he had murmured "Please, may I?" and received permission.

Giles found that his whole self was in his hands as he slowly slid them up to the soft inner flesh of her thighs. Like satin, her skin was smooth and sleek under his fingertips. His fingers inched further up her long thighs until his thumbs brushed the softness of her nether lips. Giles gasped. His thumbs traced the tender flesh and Jenny had to hold her breath to keep from crying out in pleasure. It took all her strength to not move against his hand.

But when Giles dared to ask, "As we apparently are working our way through the five senses...?" Jenny regained her composure and laughed cruelly.

"Do you want to taste me Rupert?"

His face blushed red under the blindfold in response to her blunt question. "Um...well..."

Sliding a hand through the high slit of her gown, Jenny ran a finger through her own wetness and brought it to his lips.

Now it was Giles' turn to chuckle when he realized what she had done. He licked in obedient frustration at the hand Jenny offered, hoping -- but not assuming -- that his submission would eventually be rewarded.


Once again, Willow dreamed of the library. This time it was dark. Giles, seated in the same red leather chair, was a silhouette at the end of a long shadowy gallery lined with old books.

"Come, Willow." Giles said, and she moved slowly towards him, without actually walking.

From the far end of the gallery, Giles had appeared to be wearing his regular tweeds, but when Willow finally reached him, she found him clad in a riding habit with tall shiny black boots.

Willow seated herself on a child-sized orange plastic chair. She looked up at Giles expectantly.

"What exactly is it that you are looking for, Willow?" asked Giles.

"I want to learn more," she answered.

"More than?"

"More than I can learn by reading. Can you teach me?" Willow said, looking plaintively into his eyes.

"I can," responded Giles, "but you may not find the lessons easy."

"School is always too easy for me. It's boring. I'm bored. I want to learn something hard."

"Then we shall begin," said the Watcher.

Willow found herself on her knees in front of him, her chair gone. He reached down to run his fingers through her hair, cupped her chin in one large hand, brought her eyes to meet his and gave Willow her first order.

"You may start by licking my boots."

"Really, Giles?" Willow said eagerly.

"You will address me as 'sir'." Giles ordered. Then he said kindly, "And yes, really."

"Yes, sir," Willow agreed contritely. She ducked her head down, looked at her reflection in the glossy sheen of his boots, whispered "oh my" under her breath, closed her eyes and touched her lips to the leather.

Her tongue snaked tentatively out of her mouth to lick like a kitten at first one boot and then the other. She glanced up shyly for reassurance.

"You may proceed," directed Giles.

Willow flattened her tongue against the leather and wet the surface of the boots with long, slow strokes. Time stretched as Willow relaxed into the task, losing herself in the taste and feel of Giles' boots against her tongue. This wasn't so hard, and it was wonderful. Never had anything been so peaceful and yet so exciting. There seemed to be a constant flow of warmth from her tongue, through her heart, to the spot between her legs.

When her lips reached the tops of Giles' boots, she felt him grab her roughly by the hair and pull her head onto his lap. She could see the evidence of his pleasure outlined in the tight breeches he wore. He pulled her closer and she dared to rub her cheek softly against his swollen member.

"Is this lesson hard enough for you, Willow?"

"Oh yes, sir." she breathed and nuzzled closer, experimenting with running her lips along his length, feeling his heat through the rough fabric. Willow's own pleasure was almost overwhelming; she slipped a secretive hand down between her legs.

Suddenly Giles reached down and grasped that hand by the wrist.

"Ow!" Willow gasped -- more in surprise than in pain -- as Giles pulled her up to face him.

"Did I grant you permission to touch yourself, you little trollop?" he demanded.

"No -- but -- I didn't know."

"No, you didn't. But you will remember next time," Giles promised, eyes gleaming, "because I shall give you something by which to remember this lesson."

Somehow, Willow now knew what was expected of her. She rose, eagerly resigned to her fate, and bent across Giles' lap. Though she hadn't even noticed her nakedness before, in this position Willow was acutely aware of her vulnerability. Giles could see everything.

Willow had anticipated prompt and harsh punishment, but instead she felt Giles' hand stroke her buttocks softly as he spoke of obedience and submission. Would he never start?

Just at that moment she felt a sharp slap on her bottom. That wasn't so bad. Willow thought. The stinging slaps came briskly and steadily for a few minutes and then stopped. Was that it? she thought, oddly disappointed. Then she felt his hand between her legs.

At first his fingertips merely stroked her soft outer lips.

"Oh, please!" Willow breathed, in delight.

"Sweet girl," Giles whispered, "you must learn patience."

By the time he finally slipped one finger inside her, she was desperately hungry for more. How cruel when he took away his hand and gave her a sudden hard smack that made her cry out in anguish.

This time the blows were heavy and slow, with plenty of time in between each. Willow had time to feel the horrid sting, enjoy the warm afterglow and then wait until she was not merely anticipating each blow but craving it. Eventually it built to a point where she could no longer take the pain. But just as she was ready to beg for mercy, the blows stopped and Giles hand returned to its exploration of her tight wet crevice. This time two fingers slipped smoothly into her, and she sighed with pleasure.

The punishment went on like that for what felt like forever: first pain, then pleasure, then pain, each time stopping just before Willow was overwhelmed by sensation. But at last, after a series of spanks far worse than any previous, Giles began to stroke the swollen bud of her clitoris with two fingers, as he pressed his thumb deep into her tight opening.

"Please," Willow began to beg, "Please, Giles...sir...please...I can't not..."

"Yes..." she heard Giles murmur, "Yes I know, Willow...come for me now."

Writhing on his hand, Willow felt the building wave of pleasure crash over her. She shuddered two, three times and then was still. Giles turned her over in his lap, so that she stared up into his warm, caring eyes.

"You are a good student, Willow, and a fast learner." Giles lips descended onto hers and he kissed her gently and lovingly. "Class dismissed."

At 2:03 AM Willows body relaxed. She turned on to her back with her limbs splayed under damp and tangled sheets and slipped finally into a deep dreamless sleep.


The Watcher was doing nothing. Jenny was teaching him how to do nothing and nothing was one of the hardest things he had ever done.

She left him alone, naked and blindfolded in her parlor while she prepared her bedroom. It might have been easier if he had been bound, but Jenny had explained her reluctance to use restraints when they first began this relationship.

"Hellmouth and earthquakes, Rupert. Two great reasons not to leave someone tied up in Sunnydale. A bound Watcher would be like Christmas in July for a vampire, and I don't even want to think about trying to untie you while the roof caves in."

"Um...yes. I do see your point," Giles had responded, and that was that.

So it was up to him to keep still and not become overwhelmed by terror or anticipation while he listened to the soft sounds of his mistress in the next room. When she called to him he stumbled to his feet and felt his way into the bedroom. It should have been difficult, but he found that the heightened senses of a Watcher stood him in good stead, leading him easily to his beloved. When he reached her, she rewarded his patience by melting into his arms in a sheltering yet incendiary embrace. Lace and leather were gone; her skin was silk. The time spent waiting had left Giles' skin unusually sensitive to this sudden wealth of sensation. Her mouth open on his was a whole sweet wet world to explore and he found himself breathless when she finally withdrew. The air that swirled around his hard, ravenous body was charged with energy that crackled on his skin.

Jenny led him to lie down on her bed, facing up. For a few long moments, Giles felt and heard nothing. When sensation came, it was in a new form, completely unexpected: a cold steel blade at his throat.

"I suggest," said Jenny, "that you stay very still."

She loved to see a man's reaction to this moment. Insecure men shriveled, both physically and emotionally. A solid man, who trusted himself and trusted her, craved the intimacy of the blade as much as he feared it. Giles relaxed as a blissful peace surged through every part of his body save one. That one part quickly grew as hard as the ebony handle of Jenny's ritual knife.

The knife traveled over his skin, caressing him in all his most vulnerable places. It teased, threatened, explored and aroused him. Jenny varied the sensations, now sliding the full blade across his skin (always away from the razor-sharp edge), now allowing the point to scratch like a cat's claw, now slapping him with the flat cold steel, now stroking his lips and entering his mouth slowly and delicately like the most terrifying of kisses. Giles remained perfectly still.

"Good," Jenny said at last, sheathing the blade. "You are so good tonight."

The next sensation was the flow of hair over his skin. This one Giles recognized -- Jenny's horsehair whip, an esoteric artifact with a curiously carved handle. On this night it streamed over his face, chest, legs and arms like a river, then tingled his flesh in light strikes, then finally stung like a vicious swarm of wasps as she beat his chest and nipples in sharp cruel strokes. Jenny fed hungrily on his pain as his endorphins slowly built, transporting him into a trance state. When Giles finally cried out, the word was "yes."

In the next moment, he felt the blindfold ripped from his eyes. Before his sight could adjust to the flickering candlelight, Jenny straddled him, holding his wrists down on each side. When his eyes came in to focus on hers, Jenny hissed "Don't move, don't struggle, and don't you dare come."

After so long with no vision, the sight of her, unclothed but for her jewelry, exquisite in her pleasure, was utterly overwhelming. The feeling of her wetness enveloping him was almost more than he could bear. Only fear of what she might do to him if he disobeyed kept Giles from entirely losing control as he watched her lean back on one hand, impaled, while the fingers of the other hand circled at the center of her pleasure. He used every trick of self-control he had ever known as she rode him and yet he was near breaking when Jenny leaned over him and dug her nails into his chest with fingers as tight as a vise. He could almost see the pain flow from him and into the core of her being, driving her into an explosive climax. Her warrior cry of victory shattered the silence and her usually pretty face convulsed in a fearsome beauty.

Giles felt the damp of her sweat on his chest as she collapsed on him, gasping for breath as her internal muscles contracted around him in the continuing aftershocks of her orgasm. Giles, finding his store of patience exhausted, finally blurted out "Jenny, by god, show a little mercy! I don't know how much longer I can stand this."

She shook back her damp hair and gazed at him from under the dark tangles. Her grin was evil as she crawled forward, freeing his body from her own.

"You want something?"

Through gritted teeth, Giles choked out, "Yes. Please." With one look at his pained visage, Jenny realized that he was on the edge and took pity on her lover.

Now her hands were on him, everywhere. For wild moments Giles saw his love as a many-armed Kali, touching him everywhere at once. Then finally her mouth hovered over his as her hands gripped his rod and stroked it.

"God." he gasped.

"Goddess." Jenny replied and his response was a wordless cry into her mouth as he came.

Giles felt the world splintering into many pieces around him.

The room disappeared as Giles vision went dark. Time stopped as images of the night flashed in fast-forward through his mind: Willow's coltish legs as she bolted out of the library and a vampire lurking in the darkness and Buffy's puzzled face and Jenny appearing at her door as a goddess in a long black lace gown.

Giles' heart pounded and his head felt as if some dangerous force ricocheted around inside him trying to get out. Jenny hissed "Yes, Rupert let go!" as his body exploded, then shook and shuddered and he clung to his mistress as if to some form of salvation. When his eyes opened, there were tears in them.

He tried to speak, but Jenny said, "Shh, Rupert, darling love. I know." It was a long time before he found words, and even then, they mostly consisted of "um...well...oh dear."

Jenny sat up and reached for a glass of water, drank thirstily, then held it for Giles to sip.

"That was ex-extraordinary, really...very...quite...bloody hell! " he laughed in exasperation.

Jenny also laughed, a look of smug feline satisfaction on her face.

"I suppose you know that already?" Giles concluded ruefully.

"Um-hm." she nodded.

As he drifted to sleep, Giles sleepily wondered how it must feel to possess that sort of power...


Buffy dreams soap opera plots with tangles of characters forever rearranging themselves. Xander dreams moralistic animated tales of good and evil enacted by dangerous bunnies and cuddly dinosaurs. Cordelia dreams epic romances, often surprised by the casting of her leading men. Jenny Calendar hopes for symbols and portents, yet mostly dreams of petty struggles to get to work on time or sexual encounters with the cast of Babylon 5. Willow...well you already know about Willow.

Rupert Giles' dreams confuse him. "Was that intended to have meaning?" he wonders, trying to piece together a narrative out of a kettle full of jellyfish and a cricket match with long-slain vampires.

Saturday morning, as the rain played new-age percussion on Jenny Calendar's windows, the Watcher slept his first deep sleep in a week. At 6:15 am the clock radio woke him with a screeching female voice.

"Shuttup! It's Saturday." Jenny brought her hand down on the radio with a crash. "Fuckin'Alanis fuckin'Morissette," Jenny muttered and fell promptly back to sleep, a pillow blocking out the morning light.

Giles, half-awake, smiled sleepily and nestled closer to his lover's back. Her heat added to his state of mild arousal, as did vague memories of the night before. He moved gently against her soft buttocks.

"Go to sleep Giles," Jenny mumbled, "it's too early."

"Goddamn pervert." she added as she drifted back to unconsciousness.

He grinned and closed his eyes, inviting slumber...

...Giles was riding bareback through a hazy forest. A many-gabled country estate which he knew to be Sunnydale High appeared in the mist.

When he entered, he found Angel and Buffy playing snooker in the science laboratory.

"Giles, you're going to be late." chided Buffy.

"And I suppose that you are consistently punctual?"

"Don't get all defensive Giles, just get in the elevator."

Giles pushed the button labeled "up" and waited. The sliding doors opened on the school dungeon.

Willow's manacled wrists were chained to a hook in the low ceiling of the chamber. She balanced precariously on her toes, her arms and legs pulled taut. She wore nothing at all; her pale skin glowed and her auburn hair shone in the torchlight. Her small breasts were lifted high by her upstretched arms. Giles could see the straining muscles in her calves, her softly rounded thighs, and a small triangle of soft reddish hair where her legs met. Above was the very slight curve of her belly, the delicate indentation of her navel and a flutter of the muscles in her abdomen. Her eyes looked into his in fear and trust as he approached. He advanced until there were only inches between them.

All night, at the back of Giles' mind, the thought of running his hands over Willow's pure and lovely torso had tormented him. Now he was finally touching her, claiming her flesh with his hands and his mouth. His tongue delved into her navel as his hands surveyed her legs and what lay in between. He ran his tongue up her belly and between her breasts, skimmed his teeth up the alabaster column of her throat, and settled his mouth on hers as his hands covered her breasts, teasing her nipples with his thumbs and then pinching them hard until she cried out into his mouth.

Her cry made him recoil. How could he hurt this precious creature? He was here to protect her, not to harm her. But now she was kissing him back, leaning into him, rubbing her breasts against him, rubbing her mound against his hardness. The exquisite pleasure shocked him into retreating.

"No, Willow, I can't!"

"Well someone certainly must, old boy," said Ethan, entering from French doors through which Giles could see the Grand Canal of Venice. "The little tart must be punished and if you don't do it, I will."

Ethan's eyes flashed red like a demon's. "Why have I never noticed that Ethan has a tail?" Giles wondered, momentarily distracted.

Ethan raised the riding crop he was carrying and began to measure his swing, aiming for Willow's vulnerable buttocks.

"No!" Willow shrieked in terror, "Don't let him hurt me, Giles - please!"

"You know the rules, Giles. Willow has been naughty, and a naughty girl must pay the price."

"I don't play by those rules any more," Giles retorted.

"Damn that new-age bitch. But this is my game now, Ripper, and if you won't play, I'll take my toys and go home," chuckled Ethan reaching up for Willow's shackled wrists. Willow screamed and tried to kick at him.

"No! Let her be, you bastard!" Giles roared.

"One way or another, she must be punished."

"Please Giles--" Willow begged.

Giles turned to look at her.

"Please...You...not him."

He stared into Willows desperate eyes. "Really? Dear girl, you cannot mean it."

"Really, Giles, anything. As long as it's you."

Ethan grinned evilly at Giles' predicament, and tossed him the riding crop, which he caught instinctively with one hand.

"So be it." Giles sighed.

Giles circled Willow's bound body, taking his time. He too measured the first stroke carefully, then finally snapped the crop against the lower slope of her ass.

She gasped, but didn't cry out.

He let her get her breath before he struck again, harder this time. The crack echoed once in the dark chamber, then again. Willow bravely choked back a moan.

Ethan hummed with contentment and relaxed against the mossy wall of the dungeon.

Giles moved in close behind Willow and slid his empty hand around to cup a breast. He buried his face in the tangle of her hair and rocked his pelvis against her naked buttocks, murmuring in her ear.

"You can't resist her, can you, Ripper? You like to pretend you're different but we are just the same." Ethan watched hungrily as Giles grabbed the helpless girl around her waist, waiting for him to lose control and take her.

In an instant Giles had lifted Willow, unhooking the chains that held her wrists from the ceiling. "Now!" he hissed urgently, and she ran for the elevator door.

Giles whirled to face Ethan, slashing out with the sword he now held in his hand.

Behind him, Willow pounded impatiently on the "up" button--

--and Giles awoke to the sound of knocking on Jenny's door.

As he came slowly to consciousness, he began to recognize the voice in Jenny's living room. Xander?

"Miss Calendar? I am so sorry and this is about the most embarrassing moment of my life, but is Giles here?! It's an emergency!" said Xander's anxious voice. "I'm so totally humiliated to be doing this but Buffy said he might be..."

"Bloody hell." Giles muttered, and wondered where his clothing was.


"Where's Buffy? What's going on?" asked Xander as he burst through the library door.

Willow glanced up as Xander entered with Miss Calendar and a slightly disheveled Giles in tow, then hastily returned her gaze to the computer monitor.

"Weapons locker," she answered, still busily punching keys.

"You find him, Xander?" said Buffy, coming into view.

"Guess you could say that," Xander grumbled.

"Nice tie Giles; looks familiar." Buffy gave the Watcher a quick grin as he blushed beet red.

"Yes, well..."

"Anyway, I'm sorry to interrupt your weekend, boys and girls," Buffy apologized, "but I think we're in big trouble. I saw something that kind of freaked me out on the way home last night -- and I don't mean you, Giles." She turned to greet Jenny. "I'm glad you're here too, because we may need all the help we can get."

"Ok, what's up, Buffy?" asked Jenny Calendar.

"Well, y'know how I was out slaying last night..." she began

Over by the computer, Xander was whispering to Willow about his errand to Calendar's house. "...and there she was in this dark red kind of kimono-thing that didn't leave much to even my imagination and his suit and shirt and everything was piled all neat and Giles-like on the sofa -- Wil, are you even listening?"

"Giles! Are you even listening?" asked Buffy, across the room.

"Sorry Xander, but..." answered Willow.

"Oh! Forgive me Buffy, I'm a trifle distracted..." said Giles.

"...I had the strangest dream last night." Giles and Willow finished, almost in unison.

Xander looked up, confused.

Buffy stared curiously at Willow.

Jenny looked from one to the other, a small, amused smile on her lips.

Giles stared at Willow. Her eyes met his for a long fascinating moment. Then, abruptly, they both looked away.

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