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Shortly after "Doublemeat Palace"
Warning: Character Death in this chapter
Note: This is one alternate ending to the story "Marble." Read the beginning first.
Marble (The Ugly)
I’ve made him bleed, but it’s not his blood. Vampire can’t produce blood of their own. They have to steal it. How can he produce tears and semen and sweat? That’s not important. He’s not alive. Evil animates this empty husk beneath me. Inside me. He touches things within me no one else can. Things no one ever should. I can’t keep coming to him. Can’t keep letting him touch me. If it weren’t for him, I could… could what? I could retreat completely. I could leave this world again. It will be easier without him leading me on. Without him giving me false hope. I will never be allowed to love without loss. It will be better to not love at all.
With a sigh she sank down until their pubic hairs mingled. Pale amongst dark. She switched left hand for right on the stake, then reached down and found the little nub of her clit as it eagerly pushed out from its hood.
This is one last time. One last orgasm. One last flight out of my body. I owe myself that much.
Her fingers worked busily, faster and faster as her eyes darted over the sculpted body under her. Such beauty, such evil. The thin red ribbon of blood was standing out sharp against pale skin.
Try as she might, her release evaded her. She didn’t want to do this, but she must come. Keeping the stake at his chest, she paused in her frantic rubbings and whispered to the still form under her.
“I wish just the cock of this statue would come to life and fill me.”
Kinky Slayer! Teasing me still. I want to touch her, want to tell her how much I love her. Just wait until it is my turn to choose the game. Doesn’t matter now. I would do anything for her. Anything she asks.
Her fingers begin moving again as his narrow hips jerked, then started thrusting up into her. In a few strokes, he came and she came. Through tears, she looked once more over the beautiful face under her before she closed her eyes tight and rode out the storm of their joined passions.
She sat panting, still holding the deadly wood to his chest, resting her weight on her free arm.
Come on, Buffy. The wood which teased him earlier was starting to hurt. He couldn’t keep any of this up much longer.
Too soon, the marble cock softened inside her. Before it could slide out she whispered into the darkness behind her closed lids, “goodbye,” and leaned forward.
She felt the familiar puncture as the sharp stake pushed through the vampire’s ribs and the impact as the tip hit and snapped on the crypt lid, ripping the blanket. Her knees took the weight which had been supported by his hips. Her cunt, so full a moment before, was now empty and dripped a gray sludge.
And there is that sound. The sound they make when they dust. It's a wind. A cry. A ripping. A roar. Sometimes she thinks it’s a word. This time it sounded like the wind crying “why?”
She tossed aside the broken stake and cleaned herself off with the shroud. Donning her stinking work clothes, the Slayer lay the bouquet of carnations on the center of the dusty sarcophagus. She left the candles to burn out in a vigil for her desperation and, with head high, exited his crypt forever to make it through life as a slayer was meant to. Alone.
I want to read another ending!
The "Bad": Buffy's plan turns kinky
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