Buffy Beaten update

Cordelia had heard of where to buy fake IDs. In the network of backalleys that stretched behind the Bronze and into the meatpacking district, a certain number of turns brought you to her dealer. Of course, alleyways behind the Bronze were a smorgasbord for vampires, so Cordelia brought Willow along for protection, or at least a decoy. Somewhere in her dubiously considered line of thought, her thinking of Willow as homo for Buffy had conflated with her being butch, at least enough to handle a stake, or maybe she could do some magic. Cordelia didn’t think about it too deeply. Willow was one of those people who always seemed to manage monsters or demons, so Cordelia would bring her with rather than deal with anything grody herself.

“Are you sure about this, Cordelia?” Willow asked. “Maybe we don’t need fake IDs. I’m sure—“

“I’m sure your parents are going to kill you when they find out you drank their entire liquor cabinet,” Cordelia retorted, preemptively vindictive.

“But you drank most of it—and anyway, there’s a lot left. Maybe if we put the full ones in front and the empty ones in back…”

“I should be trying to talk you out of this,” Cordelia insisted, “since this is so far above and beyond the call of duty for a friend. Really, we’re not even that close. You’re more of an acquaintance. But Xander likes you.”

“He does?” Willow mewled, sounding half unsure herself.

“Yeah, that’s another strike against you. Keep quiet, alright? It should be right around the corner. We just pay the man and go.”

They turned the next corner and there was someone who could only be the guy, sitting in the opening of one of those double-steel doors used to accept deliveries in the back of stores. Cordelia had always thought that anyone illicit like a seller of fake IDs would be dirty, greasy, with a potbelly and a smell of beer, if not marijuana. But he wasn’t like that at all.

The man was over six feet tall, his body a study in masculinity. From his wide shoulders to his large, booted feet, he reeked of an animalistic musk. His thin belly was tattooed, his hips narrow, with a leather vest the only thing he wore above his waist. Wiry hairs caught the light on his muscular chest. His face was angular, shaggy with dark hair that curled off his scalp and blunted his steam-shovel jaw, but nothing could reduce the intensity of his steel-cool eyes. 

“I’m Conrad,” he said, though his rough voice seemed more like a punch in the face than a greeting. He barreled through any pleasantries. “You must be Cordelia and Willow. Guess you want my help with something?”

Cordelia glanced at Willow as though beckoning her to do something. Willow teetered forward. “We, uh, we lost our driver’s licenses—four of them—and we were wondering if you could help us get new ones…”

“Four fake IDs,” Conrad said, clapping his heels against the bricks he was sitting on. “You got money?”

“Give him the money, stupid!” Cordelia hissed under her breath to Willow, who obligingly took a wad of bills from her pocket.

She held it out to Conrad. “T-this should be enough…”

“It is,” Conrad said, snatching the cash away. “For one.”

“One!?” Cordelia cried, aghast enough to forget her nervousness. “That’s ridiculous! That is four hundred dollars you’ve got there, my friend, you can’t just bilk us for more because—“

“Because I’m the only guy you’ve ever seen who sells fake IDs?” Conrad asked, idly paging through the cash to make his count. “Maybe you wanna ask around for someone else. Check the phonebook or something.”

Willow pulled Cordelia’s head down beside hers in a quick huddle. “Maybe we only need one. With one ID, we can restock my parents’ liquor cabinet, and buy beer for the others—“

“That’s not the point, Willow! I am a Chase and I do not accept a bargain as shitty as one fake ID for the price of four! You must buy everything on clearance, how can you not understand that?”

“If you want three more,” Conrad drawled lazily, stuffing the counted cash into his pocket. “There are ways for you two to make up the difference.”

“Like what?” Willow asked curiously, before Cordelia could shush her.

Conrad smiled at Willow, mysteriously, like he could see something written on her that she wasn’t aware of, before his gaze swung to Cordelia. “Tell me something, rich girl—ever kissed another woman?”

Cordelia stiffened, staring back at him with her eyes full of scorn. “Hell no! What do you think I am, huh, some kind of freak? I don’t go in for that weird stuff. I mean, I have an open mind, but I know where to draw the line!”

“I was just wondering,” Conrad said casually. “Kiss.”

“What!?” Cordelia and Willow both said, their tones nearly identical.

“If you want more fake IDs. You two have to kiss.”

Cordelia fumed, growling, before muttering “Fine,” and turning to face Willow, who looked like she was still picking over the idea in her head, utterly bewildered.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Cordelia said.

“Cordelia,” Willow said haltingly, “I’m not really a big kissing type person, with lots of boyfriends or, or girlfriends as the case may be, or any real romances, although there have been a few, though usually they die or turn out to be demons, so, uh, maybe I should talk to Buffy for some pointers because she’s had love triangles and dates and maybe some sex—“

Cordelia just looked at her. “Useless,” she growled, and pulled Willow into hard kiss. It was like when she kissed Xander. All her frustration and anger and resentment pooling in her groin, electrifying her lips, only Willow was softer than Xander had ever been, pliant, submissive, accepting Cordelia’s forcefulness as he never had.

While Willow could still think—as her lips parted and she accepted Cordelia’s tongue being placed against her own—she thought of how awkward and fumbling her few other kisses had been, how she’d felt more like a slobbering dog than Audrey Hepburn or Luke Perry or anyone who you’d want to see kissing. 

But this felt different; it felt right. Her mouth merging with Cordelia’s, opening and closing as she tried instinctively to prolong the kiss, Cordelia’s lips roughly massaging her own as they were forced together, her tongue twisting together with Cordelia’s, eyes closing so that all that existed for her was the feel of Cordelia’s mouth around her tongue, Cordelia’s lips against her own, the smell of Cordelia, the warmth of her being so close, and a needy pull in her groin where Willow suddenly realized she wanted Cordelia to touch her, kiss her even, because she was wet and warm there and it would be better than it had ever been when she’d masturbated, she could just tell. 

Her panties were wet with a seething heat, like how gasoline burned, and Cordelia’s tongue stroked her own like it knew just what Willow liked, just how to touch her, lips soft and plump as they came together again and again, until Willow’s lips felt succulently swollen, bee-stung, bruised by how passionately Cordelia had kissed her. She squeezed her thighs together. It felt amazing on her clit. If she could just have Cordelia kiss her a bit longer, while she clenched her thighs or even rubbed against Cordelia’s perfect body, it would be just like having sex…

But Cordelia pulled away from her, leaving a thin line of saliva connecting their lips and then nothing at all. Willow felt a keening begin in the pit of her stomach, right next to where her cunt was throbbing like crazy, but she stopped it, kept it down at the bottom of her throat. As reality reasserted itself, she knew she couldn’t let Cordelia know how much she’d enjoyed that, even as the orgasmic intensity she’d felt got further and further away.

“There,” Cordelia snarled, making Willow cringe before she realized her ire was directed at Conrad—and wishing a little that it was coming her way, because she wanted a little more of Cordelia’s attention, no matter how. “You’ve had a nice little donkey show; me and the biggest ginger in school. Now hand over the IDs.”

Conrad showed no outward sign of excitement, despite the tightness of his pants and the evident bulge of his maleness, which didn’t seem to have stirred besides its sheer limp size. His enjoyment of Willow and Cordelia’s kiss, if he’d enjoyed it at all, had to be on another level. “IDs? Plural? When did we agree to that?” With a flick of his wrists, two driver’s licenses appeared, one in either hand. He held them out to Willow and to Cordelia. “One for the money. Two for the show.”

“Okay, now can we go?” Willow asked, taking hers. She wanted to put this place behind her along with the woman she’d been here. Her nipples were hard and her pussy was throbbing so energetically, so steadily, that she worried it would never stop. Maybe she was a nymphomaniac now.

“We paid for four IDs, we’re getting four IDs!” Cordelia insisted angrily. “Okay Conrad, you want two more peep shows, fine. What do you want us to do? Spank each other? Cheer routine? Jumping jacks?”

“Strip,” Conrad said simply.

Willow went so pale that her freckles disappeared. “Oh no, no way, I can’t, I can’t, I won’t do it!”

Cordelia redirected her anger from Conrad to Willow. “Get over yourself, Rosenberg, God. You spend half the time wishing you could show your tits to some guy, now someone finally wants to see them and you say no? We only have two more IDs to go here. Fuck!”

She reached out and undid the tie strings on Willow’s halter. It fell, her modest breasts spilling out until Willow grabbed onto her halter and held it tightly against her chest like a towel when she was fresh from the shower.

“Fine.” Cordelia rolled her eyes. “I’ll go first.”

Cordelia unhooked her short black skirt and let it slip down her long legs until it’d reached the ground. She had to do it. She couldn’t stop now, not when she was this close. Cordelia Chase got what she wanted—let people call her spoiled or bratty or even dumb, but she knew that when it mattered, when it was something she needed, she would do whatever it took to get the job done.

“Take off your blouse now,” Conrad said, gratifyingly focusing on her over Willow. Cordelia smiled smugly at Willow, hoping she’d get the point that he wouldn’t even notice her with an undressed Cordelia Chase right there. But Willow still didn’t let go of her fallen halter. 

Cordelia pulled her blouse up over her shoulders and dropped it down on top of her skirt. When she looked at Conrad she saw him licking his lips. Cordelia winked at him. No man could resist her.

She was almost naked. Her bra glistened with rhinestone studs, matching the diamond perfection of her lustrous tan and precise bone structure, while her panties covered her like the rind on an orange, holding tightly to the scrumptious fruit inside. Black pantyhose clung to her legs the same way, showing them off in delicious perfection. With her high heels still on, her legs climbed all the way to heaven.

“Turn around,” Conrad said.

Cordelia obeyed him, thrilling herself with the thought that she was tantalizing him with something he would never have. He might’ve thought he was in control, but she had all the power. The perfect body, the thousand-dollar lingerie, the pumps worth his entire life. Like a benevolent dictator, she’d gift him with a glimpse of her, but she wasn’t some whore. He wouldn’t get anymore. Even Xander didn’t get anything, and that dumbass was her boyfriend.

Conrad stared at her firm, round ass while Cordelia looked over her shoulder at him, delighting in his wanting of her, the open lust that he would never get to express. Then Conrad stood up. His fingers worked at his tight pants, unzipping and unbuttoning them so that his cock sprang out into the open, rock-hard. Cordelia almost panicked when she saw how big it was. It was long, longer than Xander’s even, and so thick she didn’t see how any woman could take it. She didn’t even think she could jack it off—her hand wouldn’t be able to get around it.

“Your turn, Willow,” Cordelia muttered, fleeing back to her original estimation of using the redhead as bait. It might not be a stake she expected Willow to deal with—or a woman—but like a live grenade, she wanted to throw someone else on that explosive hugeness.

“I won’t do it!” Willow said sharply. “I am being firm and assertive and you are respecting my wishes—hey!”

Cordelia took the hem of Willow’s sensible skirt and jerked it down Willow’s legs. It was difficult, the thing being surprisingly tight for something worn by dead-below-the-waist Rosenberg, but she got it up, shocking herself.

“Goddamn, Rosenberg,” Cordelia murmured.

On the outside, Willow might’ve been dressed sensibly, but underneath, she looked like a high-class whore. She wore lily-white stockings, held up by lacy garters, with tap pants in-between. They were so light, they seemed to leave her entirely unprotected, all of her pussy and ass available for inspection by both Cordelia and Conrad. 

Cordelia pulled away Willow’s halter next. Her bra was the same virginal white, clinging tightly to her pert breasts with a lacy filigree to draw even more attention to their surprising firmness. She had nothing on Cordelia’s ample endowments, of course, but somehow, the sheer sexuality of her luxurious lingerie set made for a surprisingly compelling package.

For a moment, Willow stood there, surprised by Cordelia’s reaction, almost basking in it, prideful as she saw that her tits and ass met with approval from the biggest babe at Sunnydale High. Then a breeze hit her and she remembered where she was, who was seeing her. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably. She twined her legs together and turned to present her profile to Conrad while she hugged herself, trying to cover as much of her underwear as possible.

Cordelia, meanwhile, stood there in all her beauty, hips canted so that the skintight crotch of her panties jutted out in challenge. It was like she was offended by the attention Willow had received, even from herself, and now wanted to reclaim the throne, be seen as the one real beauty there, even if Conrad was the only one around to judge.

Nonetheless, Conrad’s hot gaze raked over Willow, enjoying the nervousness of her fearful quaking as much as her pale figure, before returning to Cordelia in cool appraisal. “Now show Willow how you take your pantyhose off. I can see you’re more experienced than her.”

Cordelia only crossed her arms, finally covering up her proud breasts, and gave Conrad the smug stare that was the terror of Sunnydale High. “You didn’t specify NC-17. You said we had to strip. I’m in my underwear and so is Willow. That’s stripped. A deal’s a deal. Three IDs.”

Teeth bitten down in a grimace, it took an angry moment before Conrad gave a tight nod. His face relaxed in amusement. “But you wanted four, right?”

“Cordelia,” Willow murmured, not sounding at all relieved by Cordelia’s maneuver. “Maybe we only need three. We should go. I don’t even really want to buy drinks—you and Buffy and Xander can have the IDs, I’ll just do and… have clothes on…”

She was growing more embarrassed by the second, and worse, that shame was doing things to her. Reminding her of how embarrassed she’d been when Xander had seen her naked, or when Buffy had walked in on her masturbating. But that embarrassment had turned to pleasure. And so was this, just a little out of order—the lust she’d felt kissing Cordelia now coming back full-force as she saw Sunnydale’s queen bee next to naked, as undressed as she was, and both of them so… sexy… She’d felt so sexy when Cordelia kissed her and she wondered what Cordelia had felt—if Cordelia was as wet as she was.

“Shut the fuck up, Rosenberg,” Cordelia hissed, sounding excited and domineering and angry. Willow could just picture her riding Xander and sounding like that. “What do you want for the last ID, Conrad? And it can’t be anything bigger than the last three. Otherwise I walk.”

Precum dribbled down the girthy length of Conrad’s erection. Cordelia couldn’t believe she let him have it out in the open like this. But they were almost done. She just had to put up with it for a little while longer and then she’d have the fake IDs. “Alright. Something simple, then. I want you two to kiss again.”

Cordelia smiled at him like a snarl. “You’re a real pervert, you know that? Pervert with a one-track mind.” She turned to Willow, putting her hands on the redhead’s bare hips. “Pucker up, red. This is never going to happen again, so your dyke ass had better enjoy it this time.”

“Cordelia, I don’t know,” Willow whimpered.

“Shut up, Willow,” Cordelia hissed, her fiery look silencing Willow to the point where she might not have even heard Cordelia, and then her lips were closing in on Willow’s, parting slightly.

“I didn’t say kiss her on the mouth,” Conrad chimed.

Cordelia stopped. Her lips were an inch from Willow’s. She could feel Willow’s breath hotly panting into her own, mixing together. Willow was actually excited by this. Disgusting—Cordelia squeezed her thighs together and nearly came.

“What?” she demanded, bringing herself back to the task at hand with all her formidable will.

“You can’t just kiss her lips. I want you to kiss her pussy.” Conrad’s huge prick leaked another dollop of precum. “Don’t you think a girl as good-looking as Willow deserves to have her pussy kissed?”

Cordelia fumed, seeing red, turning red. She could’ve ripped that smug prick’s head off. But she was so damn close and if all it took was to kiss Willow’s pussy—not even her pussy, she was wearing panties, so kissing her panties—then she could have a drink, a nice cool drink, washing away all this fucked-up shit. Yes, she’d have to do that with Willow, but if she didn’t, no ID, no drink, when she was so close she could taste it… She just had to go a little further. And for once, Willow’s weird gay thing would come in handy.

“Fuck it,” Cordelia said. “Willow, spread your legs. Let’s get this over with.”

“No… no!” Willow whimpered. Her body was covered in nervous perspiration—her forehead felt hot. Her breasts heaved against her covering arms, her hands tightly rolled into fists. “I’m leaving… this is crazy… I can’t do this, you’re not even Buf—“

“Willow,” Cordelia insisted, grabbing her hand. “It’s just one kiss. Just touching. Like when we kissed before. How is this any different? Because it’s another part of your body? So what? You’d let me kiss your hand or your cheek or your nose…”

Willow’s hand shook in Cordelia’s as if trying to get away. Her lips quivered. She edged away, but Cordelia held tightly to her outstretched arm. “No, but it’s my… it’s my… I haven’t done anything there…”

“You’re going to,” Conrad said with sadistic glee. “And I’ll watch!”

His words slammed into Willow like a freight train loaded with pure terror. She felt dizzy, disgusted, horny. This has to be the bottom of the barrel, the ultimate degradation, and the fact that it excited her proved she was a slut. Why couldn’t she be with Xander? It would be one thing if she were with Xander, even performing an act like this, playing around with Buffy for him to enjoy, because they were all friends and Xander was cute, Buffy was cute—Conrad was just one huge cock. Too big, too damn big, and she was such a slut. He’d fuck her with it and ruin her for Xander and she’d enjoy it just like she’d enjoyed Cordelia.

“I can’t… can’t!” Willow cried, but even as the words heaved their way out of her, Cordelia’s hands were on her chest, massaging her, arousing her, and she knew she was too turned on to back away now. Cordelia’s fingernails traced lines along her cleavage, leaving scarlet marks on her pale flesh. 

“Shut up,” Cordelia said, gently now. Even seductive, her dark eyes looking sensuously at Willow, the way she must’ve looked at Xander when he jerked off for her. “Let me do it. I’ll take care of everything. And you’ll enjoy it, won’t you? You love this lezbo shit. And there’s no way Buffy is a better fuck than me…”

Conrad leaned against the wall to watch, a twisted grin mirroring the shaky smile that lit up Willow’s face as she realized Cordelia really was going to touch her there.

“Unfold those arms. And come over here. Let’s let Cordelia get at you,” he ordered. 

Sniffling, now kneading her hands together over her soaking sex, Willow followed Conrad’s directions. At his urging, she hopped up onto the loading dock, legs open but with her hands still over her crotch. Cordelia crouched down, putting herself at eyelevel with Willow’s pussy. With Conrad standing behind her, his erection nearly on her shoulder, it was like she was an extension of his groin, a way for him to touch Willow.

“You have nice tits, Willow,” Conrad observed. The words burned into Willow, flaying her nipples, which were so hard they dimpled her bra. Cordelia reached up to touch them and Willow whimpered in mingled pain and relief as her sensitive breasts were finally, soothingly touched. It made her lust so much worse, but felt so good.

As Willow writhed in enjoyment, Conrad surveyed her figure. Despite her slenderness, she was beautiful. And, much as she hated it, very responsive. Tears of shame ran down Willow’s cheeks as she felt Cordelia’s fingers close around her breasts, icy cool relief and flaming hot passion, all at once.

“Take your hands away,” Conrad purred, reaching down to grasp Willow’s wrists and bring them up, away from her groin. “No more hiding. You know you don’t want to be hidden.”

He placed Willow’s hands over Cordelia’s on her breasts and Willow held Cordelia’s hands tightly in place, to continue to mold and manipulate her small breasts. They felt swollen with sensation, pregnant with it. Willow couldn’t believe how much she was feeling in her flat, ordinary tits. 

One of Cordelia’s hands came out from under Willow’s, leaving her groping her own breast. Conrad could see through the redhead’s soaked panties to her copper-fleeced pussy and it sent a surge of arousal through his cock. His face flushed as he watched Cordelia’s free hand wander down Willow’s flat belly, touching the damp spot in her panties that was so vulnerable, so delicate to the touch. Willow spasmed like she was trying to get away, but the hands on her breasts held her down, even her own. 

“Quit it, Willow,” Cordelia hissed. She pulled Willow’s panties out of the way, revealing the glossy pubic hair slicked down by her wetness, her soft slit gleaming with arousal. “You want to know what it’s like to fuck Xander? I’ll show you how he touches me. My finger isn’t as big as his cock, but you wouldn’t be able to take that anyway.”

Willow lay there, frightened and excited and panting her breath away with both feelings. She’d never been so naked with another person. She’d never been so degraded. They could see her pussy, they both could—they were going to touch it—she was going to be touched…

“Ahh!” Willow gasped as Cordelia’s fingertips trickled down her pussy lips. Then Cordelia thrust in a knuckle, then two, breaching and spreading the tender pink flesh of her pussy, letting in things Willow had never felt before.

“I know you’ve done this to yourself,” Cordelia said, growing bolder. She’d done it to herself too. She could do it to someone else. Willow had just had to let her kiss her, but since she hadn’t, Cordelia would have to take care of her first. “It’s better when someone else does it, isn’t it? Yeah, you think I’m such a slut, but now that you know how it feels, I wonder how long it’ll be before you’re begging for it.”

With the expertise that came from having to finish herself off while so many jocks and preps fumbled inelegantly with her, Cordelia smoothed her fingers through the folds of Willow’s pussy. She abandoned Willow entirely to massaging her own chest, while her other hand tucked under Willow’s ass, holding her slender hips up to receive her searching hand. Cordelia’s full breasts swung down as she fingered Willow, nipples grazing the pale flesh of Willow’s legs.

“Unnn!” Willow cried out once, again, as the steady pumping of Cordelia’s fingers built a reaction inside her. The lingering touch along her walls, the bold penetration into her depths—she couldn’t take the feelings they stirred up. Like a woman being dragged out to sea by a strong undertow, she called out for help: “It’s too much! Too much!” And then her hips were obscenely shooting upward, embracing Cordelia’s fingers, her legs flailing, her ass slapping back down on the loading dock. “Nnngh!”

“I knew you were a rug-muncher,” Cordelia snarled, hard-pressed to keep up with the bucking body underneath her.

Conrad smiled to himself. Cordelia really had gotten Willow to open up.

Willow squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to control herself, but it was impossible. Her feelings of degradation only made her more aroused. She could either feel no shame or shame that tingled, shame that she longed for. She moaned openly, not caring that Cordelia knew what a slut she was—that Cordelia had made her a slut.

Cordelia crawled on top of Willow, lowering her body onto the redhead’s, eclipsing Willow’s small breasts with her larger ones, her curvy hips grinding against Willow’s slender hips, their bellies together, their pussies meeting through the two thin layers of fabric that made up their disarrayed panties. It had been too long since Cordelia had gotten off. All that mattered was that she got off now.

“Go with it, Willow… let it happen… it’s gonna happen, baby… let yourself go… come…” Cordelia rasped, her excitement growing as she stroked herself with Willow and stroked her body against Willow’s, like they were masturbating together, like they were fucking.

Willow felt the same rapture—shooting stars and high tide—this has to be what it felt like to have Xander’s cock inside her, to have Buffy’s fingers in her cunt, but it wasn’t that, it was Cordelia, Cordelia’s body, a woman’s body!

Willow was lost to the world, aware only of the unattainable heights that called out to her. She had to get to them. She had to climb higher and higher, her hips working against Cordelia’s, her arms holding Cordelia close to her, her eyes rolling, her cunt against Cordelia’s, everything wet and juicy and hot and yet breaking anyway, shattering into a million pieces, smashing Willow apart so that her misgivings and her doubt were indistinguishable from all the pleasure she felt.

“Oooo! Yes! BUFFY!”

Rapture flowed through her, around her, torturing her sweat-soaked body with the relief it gave her as her world shook and her mind was blown.

Conrad watched. He hadn’t seen a woman come like that in a long time. His cock had been hard for a long time and now it was swelling even more, trying to eclipse the final spasms of Cordelia and Willow as they fucked each other. He could see their juices mixing together, running down their entwined legs. 

He grabbed Cordelia by the ear and pulled her off of Willow. Her face was flushed, her hair sweaty and hanging in her eyes after the exertion of getting Willow off. Conrad shoved her down in front of himself, onto her knees, and he came, a hot gush of thick seed shooting straight into Cordelia’s mouth. Cordelia gagged and swallowed, but most of his cum ran down the length of his erection or ended up on her face.

“That’s enough, dyke,” he said. “Willow has to have her fair share.”

He pulled Willow down from the loading dock, catching her by the hair before she hit the ground. With her dangling in front of him, still in a haze despite the pain, he pulled her mouth to his groin.

“Lick me clean, whore,” he ordered, already feeling Willow’s tongue moving over his balls, eagerly tasting his seed, gulping it down in a haze of delight. When Willow was done cleaning up, he thrust her against Cordelia and the two embraced dazedly, slack lips touching, rubbing their faces together. It was unclear if they simply wanted to continue their lovemaking or share his seed. 

Conrad left their IDs on the pile of discarded clothes. When they got over how hard they’d come, they’d discover being whores had left them well-compensated.