Spike's Heart (spikes_heart) wrote,
Spike's Heart

  • Mood:

New Chapter Of Hell Is In the Details - The Devil's Playground

Why look! Another new chapter of Hell Is In the Details - The Devils's Playground.

Cross posted to sickchicks and my regular journal.

Still no fluffy puppies. More like puppies needing Prozac and a couple of shock treatments.

Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 4 – The Devil’s Playground

~ Three Months Later ~

Spike’s days had taken on a mind-numbing sameness, which, when he thought at all, he was grateful for. Feeding, fucking, and sleeping. In that order. His life reduced to three words.

Every morning he awoke to Pret’s strident call of: “Up and at ‘em, pretty thing.” The demon would offer him a mug of warm blood, fuck him and leave. He’d finally made good on his promise of fisting, but Spike was in no condition to ‘enjoy’ it. Pret didn’t seem to get much out of the experience, either.

As time went on, the less ‘pretty’ he became. His hair grew long and shaggy and un-dyed. Rough, because his owner enjoyed grabbing handfuls of hair and yanking hard while he fucked him.

Spike’s cheeks, ribs and hipbones had become more prominent; his skin no longer taut over toned muscles. The cock ring had long since been removed as erections had become a thing of the past. He was slowly starving.

He never saw anyone other than Pret. He never wore clothes, and he never left the dingy room he’d been dumped in since… well, he couldn’t rightly remember anymore. Since forever, it seemed. If questioned, the vampire would have been hard pressed to remember his life before Dante’s.

No longer chained to the wall or floor Spike had free reign of the room and its contents. He never left his cot except for the occasional hose down in the butcher’s kitchen.

Pret no longer gagged him during fucking, as he no longer made a sound, even when taken dry. No need to talk. His routine was inviolate and unchanging.


The inevitable happened – as it always does. Pret became bored. Fucking a vampire who no longer made even a show of fighting back or reacting to pain was a waste of his time. It wasn’t any good when they didn’t even cry.

He began to neglect his pet.

The first time Spike went hungry, the demon remembered three days later to come in with double rations and an insincere apology that garnered no reaction from the vampire other than drinking what was offered.

The second time Spike went an entire week without sustenance. The door to his room was no longer locked, but he had no thoughts about venturing outside of the four walls, even to seek out food. If he wasn’t being fed, he didn’t care. The hunger pangs were just another part of his existence.


“Up and at ‘em, sweet boy. Time for things to change around here. I know I’ve been rather pre-occupied of late, but you haven’t exactly been a sparkling conversationalist, have you?”

Looking at the vampire with dispassionate eyes, Pret had to admit his possession’s current condition was due to his own neglect. He didn’t feel badly about it, just thought there had to be something more he could get out of him besides a pile of dust.

“I know you’re in there, baby,” said the demon, looking into the dull, vacant eyes of his toy. “But if you’ve trotted off into some other place, it’s all good. The parts of you that are here are just gonna have to find some way of earning their keep.”

Pret carried Spike’s inert body – light as a feather – to a commercial sized double sink in the kitchen, and proceeded to wash the near-skeletal vampire. He remembered that body as he’d first seen it – all beautiful muscle and hard, thick cock. Now? Mostly wrinkled skin and a totally unresponsive organ. He’d even let that thick bush of pubic hair grow back. Should have noticed that; it was a sure sign of no longer wanting him. Pret never could abide body hair on those he fucked.

He tsked as he washed Spike off. “Such a sorrowful bag of bones you’ve become, boy – gonna feed you up good and proper. Make you a presentable whore for me. Just because I’m tired of you doesn’t mean you won’t be appreciated by a whole bunch of other folk.”

Going on, he warmed to his presentation, not caring if his audience heard him or understood a thing. “Imagine the pitch, baby – ‘Come one, come all, to the Devil’s Playground. Our star attraction is a once powerful souled Master Vampire. For a set fee, you’ll have an hour and your choice of one hole to play in – the game is yours. Only two rules apply – all body parts are to remain intact – no dismemberment allowed, and no dusting.’ Doesn’t that just make you tingle?”

Something must have gotten through to the nearly catatonic vampire in his arms; but a slight shiver was the only indication that he’d heard anything about his new fate.

Resting Spike’s head against the partition in the double sink, the demon washed and combed the longish sable tresses, cutting off the bleached ends. Less work to leave him with his natural hair color, and anything Pret didn’t have to bother with at this point was a good thing in his opinion.

A brisk toweling and Spike was re-settled onto his cot. After consideration, the S’lugith forced several mugs of fresh blood down his throat. He’d had to resort to using a straw in the end, stroking the vampire’s throat to encourage sucking. Looked like he no longer had the desire to feed.

“Guess I let you go too far, boy. Wasn’t my intention – but I did tell you I’m not one for long range planning. I just got so terribly bored. Tell you what. If you don’t perk up somewhat in the next week or so, I’ll dust you and end this. No need to waste time and fresh blood on a lost cause.”


Pret brought meals to Spike three times a day. After the first few days, the vampire began to exhibit signs of awareness – expecting his meals and his owner.

By the end of the week, he was able to drink directly from the mug held in his own hands.

At two weeks gone, Spike looked much as he did when he first arrived. He’d regained most of his weight and body mass, and was once again collared and chained to the wall. Pret was taking no chances on a mindless vampire chock full of human blood.

“Guess this is as good as it gets, pretty boy. I have to admit you’re still easy on the eyes, but it’s time to turn you over to your adoring fans. Got ‘em lined up around the block for you. The idea of fucking William the Bloody has spread rapid-fire through the vampire community, let me tell you. They seem to think knocking you down a peg or two makes for bragging rights.”

Spike’s blank gaze said nothing.

“It’s like talking to a wall, trying to get through to you, sweet boy – just as well your ‘dates’ have other things in mind for that pretty mouth of yours. You just take it easy now, sleep if you can. Tomorrow you’ll have plenty of company to keep you occupied.”

When the door closed, Spike slowly raised his head as his mind cleared for the first time in months. He had one thought, fleeting as it was – he wanted to breathe as though it made a difference, just for a little while. The feel of oxygen running through his lungs, bringing new vitality to his system; this he craved - so he could stop breathing voluntarily and end it once and for all.

And when he closed his eyes, it all slipped away once more.


As soon as Dante’s opened for business, Pret sent the first of many demons into Spike’s room. Another vampire, for starters. Start him off nice and easy with one of his own kind.

The first client walked into the room – a short, rather stocky vampire in gameface, dressed in ratty blue jeans and a blue flannel workshirt.

“Wake up, you fucking whore! I’m not starting my hour ‘til my balls are knockin’ on your chin.” A violent tug on his neck chain accompanied the yelling, pulling Spike out of his sleep and onto the floor. “On your knees, bitch – and make it good.”

Spike had no clue as to who was screaming at him; didn’t much matter either. Must be the ‘date’ his owner had spoken of, which meant obedience.

The vampire scrambled to his knees with no problem, since simple commands and positions had become ingrained behavior. However, he stared at the drooling cock being waved in front of him with no comprehension. Pret had never taken his mouth, and any past experience he might have had was lost to him.

“You must be the stupidest whore I’ve ever run across. Let’s make things simple for you,” the customer snarled, grabbing Spike by the chin with his free hand and tugging downwards until his mouth opened. With his other hand he guided his cock inch by inch past the vampire’s lips, until he was fairly well seated – and waited.

And waited.

Infuriated by the lack of movement, the irate vampire lashed out with a vicious punch to Spike’s temple, sending him sprawling.

Beaten for the first time since he’d been sold, full of fresh blood, something sparked deep within the vampire’s sluggish mind, rousing the demon within. Without thinking, the demon in him rose to the fore.

He attacked.

But, hampered by slowed reflexes and the neck chain, the other vampire had no difficulty in getting away.

Tucking himself back into his pants and cursing a blue streak, the customer slammed out of Spike’s room, bitterly cursing and complaining to the management that “their whore needed to be taught some fucking manners.”

Pret stormed into the little room and confronted Spike, still in gameface. “Not an auspicious beginning, sweet thing. Can’t have you attacking your clientele. Since you can’t seem to control yourself, gonna have to make you harmless.”

Wielding a pair of pliers, the demon sat down on the cot, grabbed Spike by the hair and secured his head between his knees. “Don’t you move now, boy – get this taken care of and it’s back to business. Now open that damned mouth. You make any attempt to bite me, and your tongue goes next.”

He knew what was coming. Angelus had done it before. And knew enough not to fight.

Only a few pained cries issued from Spike’s mouth as his incisors were twisted and ripped out of his gums, leaving him huddled on the floor, whimpering in a pool of his own blood.

“This is your one and only warning, boy – one more fuck up and you’ll think the last few months have been a picnic with the Queen.”

Pret left, muttering to himself about “mistakes” and “more trouble than it’s worth” and went off to send in the next demon on the schedule.

The S’lugith simply smiled as the door closed behind the Fyarl. No irritated noises from the demon; that was good. He waited, then whistled softly to himself as Spike’s screaming began.

Better. Much, much better.

All my thanks to the lovely willa_writes for her beta'ing and idea bouncing, and to evilmaniclaugh for her support and well wishing and pimping and whatever else she does for me that I'm not telling! **grins**
Tags: fic, hell
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.