Summary: Just a quick drabble... I was feeling depressed. A girl goes out every night to sell her body in order to keep her family fed. People tell her life gets better. That's pretty hard to believe when you're in her shoes. Can anyone save her? Enter: Spike Mackenzie, the arrogant a-hole and new guy at school. M/F

Author's note: My first smut-ish dark fic. This started out as a quick drabble, but I decided to turn it into a story--that is, if anyone has any interest in it enough to continue. *bites lip*


P.s. Here I go with a new story again. . .*blush* I can't help myself! I WILL get around to updating the others though. . . I shall try. . . It's just. . . I need motivation. . . some inspiration. . .

.::No One asked You to Save Me::.

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"Come on...That's it.. come on, baby..." He grunted in her ear.

Buffy shut her eyes in hopes of blocking out his voice as well.

"Take it baby... take it all in.. Ungh ungh..." the man panted above her; his smelly breath pouring into her nose.

"Oh God..." she gagged, turning her face away.

The man, taking it as encouragement, hoisted her higher around his hips and thrust harder, "Oooh yes...You like that, baby? Huh?...." Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

She willed herself not to cry. If she cried, she wouldn't stop. And no man paid her good money if she cried while they were using her.

She bit her lip and turned her whimpers of anguish into fake cries of pleasure.

A few more thrusts and he bucked, spilling his seed into the condom.

With the hand not tossing away the condom, he reached for her cheek after tucking himself into his jeans. "What a ride, goldilocks," referring to her hair and the name she went by on the streets, "What a ride..."

A dirty finger ran across her cheek and she flinched, ashamed at what she had just done with this stranger. "So..." It came out weak, and there was a tremble in her voice; the man grinned at her in a way that made her want to stab him with a knife. She cleared her throat in frustration. "So where's the cash?"

She averted her gaze as the man counted out the twenties and laid them in her palm. Watching them pile on her hands made her evil deed that more of a reality.

"There you go, sweet cheeks," he shoved his hands into his pockets, "So I'll see you next Monday?"

She nodded and began walking, "If you bring money."

He laughed, "Always do, babe."

She was out of the alley and welcomed the wind blowing against her tear- streaked cheeks as she clutched the bills in her hand and headed home.

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