Willow shivered, as she lay curled in on herself trying to sleep. The nights had grown much colder recently, and the worn blanket and thin mattress offered far too little protection from the cold stone floor of her cell. Tomorrow she would have to beg for another blanket or something to wear. She hated begging—for food, for clothing, for a chance to bathe—and hated even more the prices she paid for these things, but she had grown used to it. In fact, she had begun to accept her situation and her mind was making accommodations to it. Her concepts of home were changing. She thought of this small, barren cell deep in the cellars of the mansion where she spent so many nights as her room. The tired mattress on the floor and tattered blanket were her bed. The cozy bedroom in her parents’ house, the dorm rooms at UC Sunnydale and Oxford, and the bedrooms she and Tara had shared were only memories. Her life as a college student and friend of the Slayer seemed distant, as though it belonged to someone else. Almost the only thing that kept her from giving in completely—despite hunger, pain and the attentions of her captor—was the hope that her friends were looking for her. That hope, however, had grown very faint as time passed. It had been so long.
In the beginning, Willow had tried to keep track of the passage of time. But after several weeks of isolation from the outside world and her captor’s erratic schedule, she could no longer count the days. She slept whenever she could, though it was hard sometimes when the light had been extinguished and the walls of the small windowless room seemed to press in on her, and she ate when and if she was given food. She couldn’t even tell if it was day or night once the heavy steel door of the cell was securely locked behind her. Her moon days had been a calendar of sorts, but constant exhaustion and hunger had shut down that basic female cycle early on. It was only now with the deepening cold that she realized her captivity—her slavery—had lasted over a third of a year. It had been spring when she was last free. Her thoughts drifted back…
Willow realized something was wrong even as she opened her eyes. “I never sleep in my clothes” she thought, “and this certainly doesn’t look like my hotel.” The room reminded her of the guest bedroom at her parents’ house, but the furnishings were more elegant, with a masculine touch. In addition to the usual bedroom furniture, the room had a small sitting area, with a coffee table, chairs and a few books. A young man was sitting in one of the chairs and looked up as Willow stirred.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” he said. “How are you feeling? Can I get you some coffee and something to eat? You’ve been asleep for quite some time.”
“Coffee would be wonderful, thank you. I’ve got a bit of a headache, but I’ll be all right once I eat,” Willow answered, sitting up and rubbing her temples. Trying to get her bearings, she looked around the room. Nothing seemed familiar. The last thing she remembered was arriving in Paris. Rene Bayard, a fellow student in folklore at Oxford, had met her at the train station as planned and taken her to a hotel, where she had checked in. Next, they had gone to a little cafe where they had eaten lunch. After that, she remembered nothing until she woke up here—wherever this was.
“Who are you, and where am I?” she asked suspiciously as the young man brought her a cup of coffee and a plate of fruit.
“My name is Warren. I’m one of Mr. Judson’s bodyguards and a sort of general assistant. This is his home, and you were brought here last night. Other than that, I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything, but let me inform my boss that you’re awake. I’m sure he can answer your questions more fully.” As Willow drank her coffee, he crossed to an intercom and spoke briefly. “The young lady is awake, sir. She’s feeling slightly headachy, so I’ve given her something to eat.”
“Good,” a deep voice came from the wall speaker, “bring her to my office as soon as you can.”
Once Willow had finished eating and had freshened up, Warren escorted her down several halls and a flight of stairs. When they came to a heavy wooden door, he knocked, and then opened it. She was ushered into a beautifully appointed office. The walls were paneled in a rich dark wood, and the blood-red carpet was soft underfoot. The windows were hung with matching curtains in velvet and two dark leather wing chairs sat in front of an elegant mahogany desk. Behind the desk was a tall dark-haired man in his mid-thirties. As he rose to greet the witch, she realized that she had met him before.
“Miss Rosenberg,” he said as he shook Willow’s hand, “Please, sit down. My name is Judson, and I hope you will forgive me for arranging this meeting so … aggressively. I wanted to make you an offer, and felt here at my home was the best place to discuss it.”
“Allyn Judson?” Willow queried as she sat, “Didn’t we meet in Oxford a week or so ago. At the Bodleian, I believe.”
“Indeed,” Judson smiled and seated himself in the other wing chair, “I was doing some reading in the folklore collection and bumped into you. I sensed your magical abilities immediately. When you said you were a student of Dr. Mallory, I decided to research your background. What I found intrigued me, so much so that I arranged for you to be brought here, along with all your things from the hotel. Rene Bayard, your fellow student, has worked for me in the past. I’m afraid he drugged your coffee when the two of you lunched in Paris yesterday.”
“I see,” Willow said with a sigh, “In retrospect I suppose I should have been more careful, but it’s a bit late for that. So, now that I know how I was brought here, perhaps you could tell me exactly why you were so anxious to speak with me.”
He smiled, “I wanted to offer you an opportunity that I’m not sure you would have, otherwise. I understand one of your goals at Oxford is to hone your abilities, and increase your control of the mystic energies. You have great power, you know, and enormous potential. With the right training, you could prove formidable. That training is hard to come by, as I’m sure you are aware. Normally, it would take place in a Master-Apprentice relationship, and unless my sources are wrong, you are not apprenticed to anyone. Is that so?”
“Your sources of information are clearly very good,” the redhead admitted. “You are quite correct. I haven’t been able to find a mentor for my esoteric studies, and I’m sure I would benefit greatly if I found a suitable one. However, I’m not sure I understand what this has to do with my being drugged and brought here against my will.”
“Let me explain. While it’s true that I did use force to bring you to me, I wanted to make this offer in private. This may be the twenty-first century, but there are still many who frown on mages and I have made enemies that I would just as soon avoid. I am a sorcerer of considerable ability, and not a little reputation in European esoteric circles. I have trained young mages before, and I am almost irresistibly attracted to the idea of being a mentor to someone with the potential you possess. I would be willing to train you, to take you on as my apprentice, if you’re interested,” Judson declared.
“That’s a very generous offer, but I must tell you that I’m reluctant to even consider it. You may have a wonderful reputation, but I know almost nothing about you and, quite frankly, kidnapping seems to be an odd way to start a teaching relationship,” Willow replied. What’s more, we may not work in the same magical tradition. As you probably learned, I’m Wiccan, mostly Gardnerian.”
As she spoke, the young witch called on her Sight. She didn’t have that Gift very strongly, but she could see auras—Judson’s was heavy with the darkness she associated with blood magic, demons and other evil. She repressed a shudder. Damn, she was supposed to have left this kind of problem back in Sunnydale!
“I understand your concerns,” Judson replied, “and I must admit you have a point. I am from a different, much darker, tradition and if you become my apprentice you would have to adopt my practices, be initiated in my tradition and start over as the lowest level of Initiate. That need not stop you, however. Your gains would far outweigh the loss and with diligent study, you would resume your current status in a month or so. Consider, my way offers so much more than the right hand path. You could have anything you need or want—wealth, power, possessions, and knowledge. Or perhaps there is someone you want at to see at your feet—a lover, an enemy, someone who spurned you? It can happen. Dominance and revenge can be so sweet. I can help you have them all.” The dark sorcerer’s eyes gleamed. “Will you become my apprentice, Willow, my protégé?”
“No.” Willow put on her “resolve face,” relieved that Judson didn’t know her well enough to tempt her with anything specific that she might really want. The allure of the magic itself was hard enough to resist, but her taste of the dark side of that power had shown her clearly where it could lead. “I will not walk the left-hand path and have no desire to work with you in any capacity, let alone call you Master.” Willow tried to keep the disgust she felt out of her voice, but was not entirely successful. “Now,” she stood, “if you will return my purse and backpack, I’ll be on my way.” Willow turned towards the door, but Warren and another bodyguard blocked her way. She was suddenly very afraid.
“Allow you to leave? I think not” the mage’s voice turned cold. “If you won’t become my student I have other uses for you.” At Judson’s signal, Warren seized Willow and held her firmly. Turning to the remaining guard, the sorcerer said, “Jared, strip her.”
Although Willow struggled and tried to use the self-defense moves Spike and Buffy had taught her, she was no match for the two men, and her clothes soon lay around her feet in rags. She had managed to get in a couple of good kicks while they were pulling her jeans off, but they had had no effect.
When physical force failed her, she gathered her will and called on her carefully built-up magical defenses to free her from Warren’s grip. To her horror, she was completely unable to do so. The preset spells were gone; the raw power was there, but there seemed to be some sort of barrier around it preventing her from calling on it.
Judson smiled nastily at Willow. “I see you have encountered my little surprise. Did you really think I would leave you with all that power at your disposal?“
“What did you do to me?”
“Actually, my dear, it’s no more than I expect you would do to me if the positions were reversed,” he explained. “It’s a simple binding spell, based in part on the old laws of hospitality. You triggered it when you accepted food and drink from Warren earlier. As long as you are in my house, including the grounds, you will be unable to work any magic, active or passive. As for the rather impressive array of defenses you already had in place, I stripped them from you while you slept,” he grabbed her chin and forced the witch’s eyes to meet his. “I took some damage doing so, mind you, but you’ll pay for that later. Oh, so you know, the binding spell won’t stop innate abilities, like the Sight, nor will it harm you in any way. Your magic is still there, and you would still be able to function fully should you ever leave here, but I have no intention of allowing that.”
Now Willow was very frightened and very angry. With her magic beyond her reach, her defenses gone and no friends around her, she was more vulnerable than she had been in years. “If I let him see how scared I am, it will only be worse,” she thought, and grasped at her anger, letting it build as Judson ran his hands over her body. “What are you planning to do with me?” Willow’s voice shook only slightly as she spoke. “You do realize people will be looking for me.”
“No one will miss you for a few days, and by then I will have effectively erased every sign you were ever in Paris. As far as your family and friends are concerned, you will have disappeared once you set foot on the train from Calais. I have more than enough money and influence to ensure that they will not find you without a tremendous amount of luck, or the resources of a magic-user far more powerful than anyone in your circle. As for the police, after a little fruitless searching they will simply drop the investigation. After all, there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of runaways. What’s one more?”
“As for what I plan to do, well little witch, that depends on how pure you are.” He smiled cruelly, fondling her breasts as he spoke. “I would very much enjoy taking you to my bed, but the ritual sacrifice of a virgin with your magical potential would make me incredibly powerful. I won’t pass up that opportunity. So, let me see.”
Judson wrapped one hand in Willow’s hair to control her and probed the entrance to her sex with the other. Willow struggled futilely and turned scarlet at this intimate invasion. “No hymen, but have you lain with a man? You see, you may still be virginal enough for sacrifice even though you and your girlfriend have been playing around.” He chuckled at Willow’s startled expression. “Oh yes, dear, I found out all about your little friend—Tara, wasn’t it—when I was looking into your background.”
Continuing to hold her, Judson murmured a short spell, and a misty image appeared briefly. It showed Willow and Oz as he took her virginity shortly before graduation. The witch’s humiliation deepened at the display of this most intimate moment to Judson and his guards, and at the mage’s words. “Definitely not a virgin, then. So, you live, and I gain the pleasure of training a new slave. You see, you were wrong. You will call me Master.” With that, Judson kissed her, brutally and possessively, and Willow’s anger overwhelmed her. Unable to move and stripped of her magic, she lashed out in the only way she could. She bit him.
“Bitch,” furious, Judson backhanded the redhead, “you will never do that again. Do you understand? I had thought to break you in gently, but obviously, you need an immediate lesson in manners. Warren, take her to my suite.” The sorcerer stormed angrily out of the office, leaving the two guards to deal with the struggling redhead.
“If I let go, will you cooperate?” Warren asked.
“No.” Willow continued her efforts to get free. She didn’t know what Judson had planned for her, but she was sure she wouldn’t like it. If only she could get away from these two, and find her way outside …
“Fine.” Warren sighed, “It’s not going to make a difference, you know. I was just trying to make things a bit easier for both of us.” He picked the redhead up and dumped her unceremoniously over his shoulder. “I can take her from here, Jared. Why don’t you get back to work?”
As the guard carried her down the hall, Willow kicked him, hoping to loosen his grip. Unfortunately for her, Warren merely slapped her sharply on the ass a few times, and warned her to hold still. This was simply too humiliating. She had been kidnapped, was naked over the shoulder of a man who could control her easily, and was being carted off to be punished by another man who was going to make her his slave. Despite herself, Willow began to cry softly.
Warren stopped and addressed her. “Look, I’m going to put you down for a minute, so don’t run off. I’d simply have to chase you down and then you’d be punished for that as well. All right?”
“Okay,” Willow sniffed. Her head was starting to get stuffy from the tears and she would be able to breathe better upright. Besides, as she had calmed down, she had realized that there was nowhere for her to go. She didn’t know what country she was in, let alone what city, and even if she made it outside the building, she wouldn’t get very far naked. As he set her down, the witch looked up at the guard. He seemed to be genuinely concerned about her.
“Willow, I know you’re angry and frightened and don’t want to be here, but you’ve got to understand some things. You’ve made the boss, who’s your Master now, very angry, and he has an awful temper.”
“I know. It was really stupid to bite him,” she said in a small, frightened voice, “but what can I do now?”
“Apologize. Beg him to forgive you. Grovel if you have to. It won’t stop the “lesson” but it might shorten it.”
“I can’t. I might be able to apologize, but I can’t beg.”
“Then do what you can, but make him believe you’re sorry. Even if it only buys you a little less punishment, it’s worth it.” Warren took Willow’s hand. “Can I offer you some advice, both for tonight and the future?”
“Sure. I obviously need some,” she answered, trying to smile through her fear.
“Act submissive, if you can. Speak when you’re spoken to. Keep your eyes down; don’t look him in the face unless you’re told to. Last, for God’s sake, don’t talk back to him. If he has to beat you into submission, he will, and I’d rather not see that. Now, are you ready to go? Do I need to carry you?”
“No. I’ll come with you.” Willow sighed and added, “I guess I haven’t any choice, really.”
They came to the far end of one wing of the house, which Willow began to realize was enormous, and Warren opened heavy double doors, much like those on the office.
“Where are we?” Willow whispered.
“These are Mr. Judson’s rooms. Now hush, and remember to speak only when spoken to.” Warren led her through a comfortable sitting room and a small library before entering the bedroom. The room was dominated by an oversized bed, and Willow immediately noticed the restraints attached to the four corners. “Goddess,” she thought, “he’ll put me in those.” Her fear started to rise again at the idea.
Warren opened a door at the back of the bedroom, and led Willow through it. She had assumed that it was a closet, but in fact, it concealed a flight of stairs going down into a short corridor in the basement. A door at the end of the hall was standing open, and Warren gently pushed her through and stepped inside.
“Do you want me to remain, sir, or shall I leave you alone?” Warren asked as he closed the door.
“Stay, Warren, I may need your assistance.” Judson turned to Willow who was gazing around the room in terror. The room resembled a medieval torture chamber, in some ways, she thought. Chains dangled from the ceiling, whips, crops, canes and paddles adorned the walls, and a large wooden X stood by the back wall. The redhead shuddered as she realized that every piece of furniture, except a few chairs, was designed to restrain someone.
The sorcerer’s voice interrupted her perusal of the room. “So, Willow, do you have anything to say before I begin your instruction in manners?”
Swallowing the anger that flared as she remembered the feel of his fingers invading her, Willow stammered, “I, I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have bitten you.”
Judson’s hand under her chin forced Willow’s eyes up to meet his. “Are you?”
“Yes, sir, I’m very sorry.” Willow tried her best to sound convincing, but was knocked to the floor by a hard slap from the mage.
“No, you’re not sorry,” he snarled, “I can see that in your eyes, little liar. You will be sorry, though, very soon.” Judson crossed to a rack of whips and such, and selected a harsh, narrow, leather strap. “Warren. Fasten her to the St. Andrew’s Cross.”
Willow began trying to get away as soon as she realized that the sorcerer intended to use that strap on her. She had only been spanked a couple of times by her parents, but she had heard stories, and had seen the marks on Xander after his father had taken a belt to him. This strap would be far worse than even that, she realized, and she wanted nothing more than to flee. Warren dragged the struggling witch to the wooden cross and secured her wrists and ankles.
The first blow left a line of searing agony across her back unlike anything Willow had ever felt, and wrung a cry of pain and shock from her. The fire of that blow had barely begun to fade when the next one landed. At the fifth stroke, Willow began sobbing, and by the tenth, she was hoarse from screaming. Still the blows continued to fall, until the witch was begging for mercy and hanging limply in her chains. She could feel blood trickling down her back.
Judson ran his hand over the bleeding welts on the girl’s back eliciting another scream. “Have you learned your lesson yet, or do I need to continue?”
At the idea of even one more blow, Willow’s sobs became uncontrollable. “Please, no more. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please.” At Judson’s instructions, Warren unfastened the young woman’s restraints and helped her gain her feet. In too much pain to remain standing, she knelt at her captor’s feet.
“Are you ready to submit to me?” Surprisingly gently, the dark mage tipped her chin up to look at him. He was holding a black leather collar in his other hand.
Willow knew she should submit and accept the collar if she wished to avoid further pain, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t give in so easily. “No. I can’t.” She took a deep breath, jerked her chin free and glared at the dark mage, “I won’t.”
Judson smiled at Willow, twin flames of lust and anticipation in his eyes. “I’ll accept that for now. Frankly, I’d have been disappointed if you had broken so easily. However, there are some things you must understand. You are my slave whether you wear a collar or not, and I am your Master even if you will not acknowledge it. You belong to me—mine to do with as I wish. In token of that, you now have a new name. You are Kitty. If you fail to respond to the name I have given you, you will be punished. You will also be punished should you use, respond to, or in any other way acknowledge your former name. You are no longer Willow Rosenberg. I expect obedience, Kitty, to my commands or those of anyone in my household, and I expect you to address us all with respect. I will not tolerate disobedience, and I will not put up with intransigence for long. You will submit.”
Willow stared back defiantly, strangely calm in spite of her pain. “No, I will not.”
“We shall see.” Turning to Warren, the mage said, “Take her to one of the cells and lock her in.”
As Judson departed, Warren pulled the redhead to her feet and urged her, stumbling, her breath hissing from the pain in her back, through corridors and down still more stairs to another part of the cellars. He unlocked the door to a small, barren room and motioned to Willow to enter.
“Go on in, Kitty” he said gently, “You’ll be sent for when you’re wanted, and I suggest you do a better job of being obedient than you have so far. I’ve seen him train a slave before, and it’s not just beatings. You won’t eat if you don’t at least try to please him.”
Willow nodded numbly as she walked through the door. The windowless room contained only a mattress on the floor, a blanket and pillow, and a curtained alcove holding a sink and toilet. The only illumination came from a single light fixture in the ceiling. As the heavy door locked behind her, Willow lay down on the makeshift bed. Left alone, with no one to see, her composure deserted her and she began to sob.