It all happened so quickly that Buffy could scarcely follow it all in her mind. She felt him give in, felt his fangs sink into her neck. She didn't cry out like she thought she might have. Instead, she drew in a sharp breath as he drank from her, only vaguely aware that she knew what it was like now. She'd wondered before, call it morbid, Slayer curiosity, and even more so once she had come to love Ambrose. It hurt. She'd expected it to, but it didn't hurt in an entirely unpleasant way. It lit a fire inside of her even as she felt a part of her life force being drained. The Slayer closed her eyes, losing herself in the moment.
When Buffy opened her eyes again, she was up against a wall with Ambrose hard against her and pressing his wrist to her lips. The darkness in his voice was intense enough to startle her, implying that there wasn't room for debate on the issue, and so she drank from it, hesitantly but obediently as the wound on her neck sealed shut. She'd thought the taste would bother her, but she hardly realized it with his lips at her neck again.
Everything was a blur, but Buffy found her hand reaching down to rub against the erection straining in his pants as she pressed her body firmly against his, light-headed but lost to the moment in much the same way he seemed to be.
"Yes, Master," she whispered softly, pulling back from his wrist.