Ticklish Slayer requested something in this vein a long time ago, and I started it back then, then forgot about it. For whatever reason I came upon it today and finished it off, so for you, T.S., and for those of you who might be interested here it is.
Set during the summer following “Graduation Day, Part II”
“This should work pretty well,” Willow said. “What do you think?”
“Oh, I like it,” Oz replied. “It’s got a homey touch.”
They had been searching for a few days for a good place to serve as Oz’ new wolf-cage, after his old one was blown to little bits (along with the rest of Sunnydale High). They finally found something feasible in the form of a spacious abandoned mausoleum. They could easily install a sturdy gate, and one of the walls already had thick metal shackles attached, probably from earlier sordid Hellmouth-y affairs.
Willow noticed this quickly . . . and was suddenly overcome with very un-Willow-like thoughts.
“Hmm.”
“What?”
Willow just smiled, and walked over to the wall. She took the chain in her hand and looked it over.
“What’re you up to?” Oz asked.
“You’ll see,” Willow replied, seeing how far out the chain extended.
“I thought I was supposed to be the laconic one here.”
Willow just flashed him another coy grin and slipped his t-shirt off. Then she took him by the wrist, raised his arm out to his side, and before Oz knew just what was going on she’d locked the shackle around his wrist.
“Wil, what –“
“I just want to test out these chains,” she explained. “Make sure they’ll hold if we ever need to use them.” And with that she strode over to the other side of the cage, extended the other chain and shackled his other wrist.
She stepped back to admire her work: Oz standing helpless, his arms pulled out to his sides tight, parallel to the ground, the muscles in his bare arms and chest taut and defined. He was wearing his usual blank-face, but Willow could tell what was going on beneath it: a little confusion, a little curiosity, but no fear.
“Comfortable?” she asked.
“Pretty much no,” he answered. “Can you let me out of these things now?”
“But Oz, we don’t even know if they’re gonna hold yet. We’ve gotta give them a real test.”
“Not to quibble, Wil, but I don’t exactly have my wolf-strength going on.” He gave the chains a tug, barely moving at all. “Wouldn’t really be much of a test.”
Willow stepped forward, only an inch away from him, and laid her hands softly on his chest. She looked him over and grinned sexily. She couldn’t explain it, but something about the sight of her man chained up and at her mercy was very arousing. She’d never thought she’d be into bondage, or s&m, or whatever it was exactly she was doing . . . but now that the moment was upon her, some hidden part of her mind was taking over.
She flashed back to that encounter with her vamp-self, all skanky leather and tie-up games. She couldn’t really have anything in common with that alternate version . . could she? That was all the demon part, not the Willow part. Right?
At any rate, looking into Oz’s face, full of trust and anxiousness at the same time, Willow felt herself becoming incredibly aroused. She began to run her fingertips up his chest. She had a test for him, all right. Maybe they couldn’t recreate the strength and wildness he possessed in werewolf form, but she could get him pretty riled up nonetheless.
“What’s the game, Wil?” he asked quizzically. “This isn’t like you.” He was thrown by her behavior, yes, but also intrigued.
“The game,” she said, walking her fingers along his triceps, “is called, ‘don’t laugh.’”
“I don’t get it.”
She brushed her lips against his and whispered, “You’re gonna.”
Her fingers continued down his arms, and just before they reached his underarms he flinched. “Willow . . .”
But that was the only word he got out before breaking out into a flurry of giggles, as she began to dance her fingers under his arms. She traced little circles around the hollows and brushed the hairs maddeningly. “Awww . . . you already lost!”
“Wil, please,” Oz said coolly, trying to gather himself. “You know I’m – hahaha – ticklish.”
“Yeah, I do. But now, you can’t take advantage of my ticklishness and fight back.”
“This isn’t fair.”
“Don’t worry,” Willow said with a smile, “I’ll give you another chance.” She pressed her body up against his and kissed him. “Now remember – don’t laugh this time . . “ her hand wandered down to his crotch and stroked him lightly through his pants. “. . . if you want your prize.”
Oz looked into Willow’s eyes. She was serious. This was definitely a whole new side of her. He didn’t know what to think.
He didn’t get much time to think, either, before she dug her little fingers into his torso and he exploded in laughter.
“Aww, that’s two for me. Let’s just call that one a practice round,” Willow said, halting her assault as Oz caught his breath. “I think maybe we ought to start slower…”
“Willow,” he gasped, “Come on . . .”
“Ssshhh …” her lips less than an inch from his. She caught his gaze and slowly began to work her fingers up his sides, starting just below his ribs …
Oz bit his lip. He didn’t like it, but if this was the way she wanted to play he figured he might as well try to play along. Besides, it’s not like he had much choice. He could hold out for a while, couldn’t he?
Willow’s small fingers crept slowly up his sides, dabbing the soft spots on the sides of his stomach. Oz reflexively twitched back and forth but managed to keep his composure. Good. Exactly what she wanted. Draw him out a little. Work for it.
She scratched her nails over his stomach, delighting in how sensitive to light touches his solid abs were. She rolled up to his chest, wiggling just her index fingers in between his lower ribs. She jumped around, teasing one pair of ribs for a few seconds then going after another pair at random. She picked up speed as she went, hands darting up and down on his body so quickly he had no idea where they would land next. Oz gritted his teeth, shut his eyes and craned his head back, only hanging on by a few threads.
Willow was aware of this, and grinned. She was also aware of how much he was enjoying it. He probably wouldn’t have admitted so if asked, but there was one particularly convincing piece of empirical evidence brushing against her leg.
She slowed down, allowing him to come back to earth a little.
“Good,” she teased, “you’re doing much better this time. Guess I’ll need to go after your real hot spots.”
“Willow, come on,” Oz gasped, struggling to let out words but not laughter. “Call it a day, huh?”
Willow dug into his underarms again, sweeping her nails from the edges of his triceps to the top set of ribs. Oz grimaced and muffled a shriek. Loud metallic rattling echoed throughout the mausoleum as he yanked at his chains, trying to pull them out of the wall if that’s what it took. How long would he have to go without laughing? When would she be satisfied?
“Oooh, looks like I may bring the wolf in you out yet,” Willow teased. “Let’s give those chains a real good test, shall we?”
She started to walk her fingers down his sides, slowly, deliberately, guiding his attention towards her target. He picked up pretty quickly where she was going.
“Willow, no, please,” he breathed, knowing the breaking point was eminent. He hoped that maybe once she’d “won” again she’d call it a match in straight sets, but part of him feared that she’d insist on best three out of five instead.
Either way, he knew there’d be no point in resisting when he felt her kneading her fingertips into the soft flesh right above his hips. Oz burst, laughter and body spasms erupting in every direction.
“AHHHHAHAHAH SHIT WILLLLLLLL!!!!” he cried.
Willow ate it up, a huge smile on her face, looking like a little girl in a candy store. She massaged Oz’s tender sides with relish, soaking in his struggles and feeling the warmth grow inside her. She pressed her body up against his sensually and snaked her hands around towards his lower back, finding even more sensitive spots there.
Oz was a laughing wreck, and he was really tearing on those chains, trying to pull them out of the wall. His shoulders were likely to leave their sockets before that happened though. He was trapped pretty good – which bode well, she supposed, for when they would need the restraints for less amusing purposes.
Willow didn’t prolong the torture much longer after that. She could see the fine line between sweet suffering and pure pain, and she would never push him that far. She eased off, and gently rubbed his over-stimulated bare torso with her palms, trying to cool him off.
When he had enough breath left to speak, Oz offered a typically concise reaction: “Geez.”
Willow giggled. As she released him from his bonds she watched his body closely as he drew deep breaths.
“Okay…. Tell me there’s a ‘why’ coming in my near future,” he said, donning his shirt.
“What, you didn’t have fun?” she asked sweetly, with a kiss.
His response was an unusually vibrant show of emotion: a small half-smile.
Set during the summer following “Graduation Day, Part II”
“This should work pretty well,” Willow said. “What do you think?”
“Oh, I like it,” Oz replied. “It’s got a homey touch.”
They had been searching for a few days for a good place to serve as Oz’ new wolf-cage, after his old one was blown to little bits (along with the rest of Sunnydale High). They finally found something feasible in the form of a spacious abandoned mausoleum. They could easily install a sturdy gate, and one of the walls already had thick metal shackles attached, probably from earlier sordid Hellmouth-y affairs.
Willow noticed this quickly . . . and was suddenly overcome with very un-Willow-like thoughts.
“Hmm.”
“What?”
Willow just smiled, and walked over to the wall. She took the chain in her hand and looked it over.
“What’re you up to?” Oz asked.
“You’ll see,” Willow replied, seeing how far out the chain extended.
“I thought I was supposed to be the laconic one here.”
Willow just flashed him another coy grin and slipped his t-shirt off. Then she took him by the wrist, raised his arm out to his side, and before Oz knew just what was going on she’d locked the shackle around his wrist.
“Wil, what –“
“I just want to test out these chains,” she explained. “Make sure they’ll hold if we ever need to use them.” And with that she strode over to the other side of the cage, extended the other chain and shackled his other wrist.
She stepped back to admire her work: Oz standing helpless, his arms pulled out to his sides tight, parallel to the ground, the muscles in his bare arms and chest taut and defined. He was wearing his usual blank-face, but Willow could tell what was going on beneath it: a little confusion, a little curiosity, but no fear.
“Comfortable?” she asked.
“Pretty much no,” he answered. “Can you let me out of these things now?”
“But Oz, we don’t even know if they’re gonna hold yet. We’ve gotta give them a real test.”
“Not to quibble, Wil, but I don’t exactly have my wolf-strength going on.” He gave the chains a tug, barely moving at all. “Wouldn’t really be much of a test.”
Willow stepped forward, only an inch away from him, and laid her hands softly on his chest. She looked him over and grinned sexily. She couldn’t explain it, but something about the sight of her man chained up and at her mercy was very arousing. She’d never thought she’d be into bondage, or s&m, or whatever it was exactly she was doing . . . but now that the moment was upon her, some hidden part of her mind was taking over.
She flashed back to that encounter with her vamp-self, all skanky leather and tie-up games. She couldn’t really have anything in common with that alternate version . . could she? That was all the demon part, not the Willow part. Right?
At any rate, looking into Oz’s face, full of trust and anxiousness at the same time, Willow felt herself becoming incredibly aroused. She began to run her fingertips up his chest. She had a test for him, all right. Maybe they couldn’t recreate the strength and wildness he possessed in werewolf form, but she could get him pretty riled up nonetheless.
“What’s the game, Wil?” he asked quizzically. “This isn’t like you.” He was thrown by her behavior, yes, but also intrigued.
“The game,” she said, walking her fingers along his triceps, “is called, ‘don’t laugh.’”
“I don’t get it.”
She brushed her lips against his and whispered, “You’re gonna.”
Her fingers continued down his arms, and just before they reached his underarms he flinched. “Willow . . .”
But that was the only word he got out before breaking out into a flurry of giggles, as she began to dance her fingers under his arms. She traced little circles around the hollows and brushed the hairs maddeningly. “Awww . . . you already lost!”
“Wil, please,” Oz said coolly, trying to gather himself. “You know I’m – hahaha – ticklish.”
“Yeah, I do. But now, you can’t take advantage of my ticklishness and fight back.”
“This isn’t fair.”
“Don’t worry,” Willow said with a smile, “I’ll give you another chance.” She pressed her body up against his and kissed him. “Now remember – don’t laugh this time . . “ her hand wandered down to his crotch and stroked him lightly through his pants. “. . . if you want your prize.”
Oz looked into Willow’s eyes. She was serious. This was definitely a whole new side of her. He didn’t know what to think.
He didn’t get much time to think, either, before she dug her little fingers into his torso and he exploded in laughter.
“Aww, that’s two for me. Let’s just call that one a practice round,” Willow said, halting her assault as Oz caught his breath. “I think maybe we ought to start slower…”
“Willow,” he gasped, “Come on . . .”
“Ssshhh …” her lips less than an inch from his. She caught his gaze and slowly began to work her fingers up his sides, starting just below his ribs …
Oz bit his lip. He didn’t like it, but if this was the way she wanted to play he figured he might as well try to play along. Besides, it’s not like he had much choice. He could hold out for a while, couldn’t he?
Willow’s small fingers crept slowly up his sides, dabbing the soft spots on the sides of his stomach. Oz reflexively twitched back and forth but managed to keep his composure. Good. Exactly what she wanted. Draw him out a little. Work for it.
She scratched her nails over his stomach, delighting in how sensitive to light touches his solid abs were. She rolled up to his chest, wiggling just her index fingers in between his lower ribs. She jumped around, teasing one pair of ribs for a few seconds then going after another pair at random. She picked up speed as she went, hands darting up and down on his body so quickly he had no idea where they would land next. Oz gritted his teeth, shut his eyes and craned his head back, only hanging on by a few threads.
Willow was aware of this, and grinned. She was also aware of how much he was enjoying it. He probably wouldn’t have admitted so if asked, but there was one particularly convincing piece of empirical evidence brushing against her leg.
She slowed down, allowing him to come back to earth a little.
“Good,” she teased, “you’re doing much better this time. Guess I’ll need to go after your real hot spots.”
“Willow, come on,” Oz gasped, struggling to let out words but not laughter. “Call it a day, huh?”
Willow dug into his underarms again, sweeping her nails from the edges of his triceps to the top set of ribs. Oz grimaced and muffled a shriek. Loud metallic rattling echoed throughout the mausoleum as he yanked at his chains, trying to pull them out of the wall if that’s what it took. How long would he have to go without laughing? When would she be satisfied?
“Oooh, looks like I may bring the wolf in you out yet,” Willow teased. “Let’s give those chains a real good test, shall we?”
She started to walk her fingers down his sides, slowly, deliberately, guiding his attention towards her target. He picked up pretty quickly where she was going.
“Willow, no, please,” he breathed, knowing the breaking point was eminent. He hoped that maybe once she’d “won” again she’d call it a match in straight sets, but part of him feared that she’d insist on best three out of five instead.
Either way, he knew there’d be no point in resisting when he felt her kneading her fingertips into the soft flesh right above his hips. Oz burst, laughter and body spasms erupting in every direction.
“AHHHHAHAHAH SHIT WILLLLLLLL!!!!” he cried.
Willow ate it up, a huge smile on her face, looking like a little girl in a candy store. She massaged Oz’s tender sides with relish, soaking in his struggles and feeling the warmth grow inside her. She pressed her body up against his sensually and snaked her hands around towards his lower back, finding even more sensitive spots there.
Oz was a laughing wreck, and he was really tearing on those chains, trying to pull them out of the wall. His shoulders were likely to leave their sockets before that happened though. He was trapped pretty good – which bode well, she supposed, for when they would need the restraints for less amusing purposes.
Willow didn’t prolong the torture much longer after that. She could see the fine line between sweet suffering and pure pain, and she would never push him that far. She eased off, and gently rubbed his over-stimulated bare torso with her palms, trying to cool him off.
When he had enough breath left to speak, Oz offered a typically concise reaction: “Geez.”
Willow giggled. As she released him from his bonds she watched his body closely as he drew deep breaths.
“Okay…. Tell me there’s a ‘why’ coming in my near future,” he said, donning his shirt.
“What, you didn’t have fun?” she asked sweetly, with a kiss.
His response was an unusually vibrant show of emotion: a small half-smile.
Last edited:
