The Conquering

BY : Rihaan
Category: WWF/WWE > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 10834
Disclaimer: I don't own the WWE, nor do I own or know any of those wrestlers (Brock Lesnar, Nikki Bella, AJ Lee, or any other familiar name). I make no money from them. This is only a work of fiction, that is meant to entertain.

"Wake up, you ungrateful little bitch."



Those were the first words she heard as she slipped back into consciousness. Her brown hair and golden highlights marred her vision as she tried to stare at her assaulter with blurry eyes. "Who-?"



"Shut up!" he spat dangerously. She flinched back, and cried out in pain as her head hit a firm metallic surface. "In all my years in this business," the barely visible man whispered, ignoring how she grabbed at her aching head, "I've never seen something so disgraceful. It's embarrassing, you know that? Embarrassing."



He spoke in a condescending, nasally tone that was so familiar to her. "Paul?" she wondered slowly, shaking the hair out of her eyes.



The Advocate smiled a smarmy smile. "You know what I do like about you? You recognize talent when you see it, and you used your best assets to get what you want. I... well, I lied. I lied, and cheated, and stole my way to where I am now. No offense to Eddie - you do know who that is, right? - but if there was a more dishonest man on this planet to get where I am now, then I want to shake that man's hand." His hand slowly reached up to her hair, and she flinched violently. "Oh, don't be scared, now. I haven't given you a reason to be scared, yet. I lied to get where I was, but I used my skills to stay there. You know why I headline wrestling shows without breaking a sweat? Why whenever I pick up the microphone, there isn't a 'what' in the house?" His fingers curled into a tuft of strands, and he yanked her closer to him, and she cried out. "I'm good. I'm the goddamn best. And you... you can't even act your way out of a kindergarten play."



He untangled his fingers from her head and swept off some loose strands of her brownish blond locks. "You know, we were going to go for your sister, but you had more to offer." She instinctively covered her surgically enhanced breasts, as she glared at him through her tears, absently noting that she was still wearing her ring-gear. Then she caught up with the words he said, and he grinned wryly in response to the fear that took over her eyes. "I see you caught my little Freudian slip, there. Yes, 'we.' And if you don't give us what we want, keep in mind that we could just go pick her up."



She struggled to find her voice. "I won't let you, Heyman. You'll never get to her."



He scoffed at her words. "I don't plan on lifting a finger, miss Bella. There are people that can do that for me." He looked around at the women's locker room. "We managed to pluck you out of plain sight, didn't we?"



Not bothering to look at her shocked face, he turned around and began to walk towards the exit. "I think it's time to do what you do best once again, Nicole. The same way you got this job - the same way you got your boyfriend." She stumbled as she tried to get to her feet, and collapsed across one of the benches in the middle of the room. He laughed a sadistic, playful chuckle. "Methinks the slut doth protests too much!"



His silhouette lined against the open door. "You've got all night. Make me proud, Champ!"



The door gave a soft click as she was left alone in the darkened locker room, and she pushed herself up with considerably less effort than she did before.



She gasped as something pressed against her back, and before she knew it, she was picked up into an impeccably sturdy and strong grasp.



She kicked savagely against the unknown presence, but the assailant quickly kicked her legs apart and turned her around, pushing her face into the cool material of the lockers, while using a large palm to force her hands together and locked behind her back.



Nikki whimpered helplessly. The heavy mass of man behind her clearly wasn't John. It had to be only one person. "Don't do this..."



Brock Lesnar grinned to himself as she began squirming is his tight grip. Her comparatively smaller body was a perfect fit against his massive frame, her wide hips unintentionally grinding against his hardness as she tried to escape.



The drugs that knocked her out were clearly wearing off by the second, and he wanted her at her full abilities when he... conquered... her.



She cried out when Brock's large hands palmed at her heavy breasts, squirming as she tried to wiggle out of his grip. She bit back a moan as his hand slipped beneath her 'Fearless' top, wincing at her body's treachery when he found her extended nipple. His arms felt so similar to Cena's, and it brought back good memories to just a few short months ago.



She shook her head desperately, and slammed her head back.



Brock didn't even flinch as the back of her head rammed into his hard chest, and he only grinned at her feistiness.



He figured it was time. Slipping his hand out of her top, he forcefully ripped at the strings that tied her gear together.



Her large breasts spilled out of her bustier, and he palmed her tits with one hand while keeping the other locked around Nikki's delicate hands. Her small brown nipples ached with need in his greedy palms, her fleshy mammaries feeling as real as medical engineering could allow.



She moaned quietly, her tears flowing down her beautiful face, as she was ruthlessly molested by the Beast. Her feet still spread out by his powerful legs, she had no choice but to allow his hands to roam her chest as he pleased, her legs spread wide for his fingers to encroach any time he wished.



Then, without warning, he lifted her hands behind her back and forced her face back into the lockers, letting her red spandex-clad ass stick out.



For a moment, he admired the way she struggled, knocking against his cock in his loose jogging pants with the salacious movement, before he reached down and slid her tight bottoms to the side.



At least, tried to. WWE try their damnedest to keep wardrobe malfunctions off of their live flagship show, and in doing so, the attire she wore to the ring was more tightly wrapped around her body than, well, him right now.



His giant fingers forcibly wedged into her bottoms, and Nicole cried, her voice muffled against the locker, some choice profanities she spouted out that he didn't really care to pay much attention to.



Finally, his fingers came out on the other side of the thin crotch of her spandex gear, and with minimal effort, he pulled.



Nikki panicked as she felt his strength, as he pulled her off the ground as he held her but the crotch of her small shorts. She kicked helplessly in the air, feeling his knuckles rub against her pantyhose-covered pussy lips, the spandex ripping in his grasp.



She was lifted a full two feet in the air, he face dragged against the locker door the entire time, when the shorts snapped apart.



Brock struck quickly. His feet were waiting when her Nike sneakers touched the floor, roughly kicking her legs apart until they were obscenely wide, and he sat on the bench to get a good look at her crotch, his hand still holding hers tightly.



He was pleasantly surprised to find her sans panties, and even more surprised to see her wetness shining against the nylon stocking she wore, that led into the fishnet.



There were very few instances where Brock Lesnar felt any type of jealousy of anyone else.



And now, as he gently stroked the lips of her glistening vulva through the crotch of Nikki's leggings with his index finger, while pushing her head back to the steel lockers, he smelt a smidgeon of jealousy - and maybe, a bit of respect - for John Cena.



Nikki moaned piteously as he touched her, not even knowing that her body was so aroused to this point. Her first thought wasn't how disappointed she was in herself for giving in, or how Paul, the lecherous perv that he was, was probably recording this footage of her acting like a wanton whore, but the overwhelming thought that invaded her mind was of her insanely sore nipples, and how she wished she could tend to them herself.



Some part of her blamed John for this. They hadn't had sex since Total Divas, and since they shared his personal bus with some of his closest and her closest wrestler friends they really hadn't had time to themselves. And of course, with press in the back, he was too chicken-shit to go for one quickie in his changing room. All they needed to do was keep quiet, and they'd never find –



"Oh, FUCK!" she screamed, her legs weak as he pressed his long, thick tongue against her smooth lips, slicking against her moist heat in the most delicious way.



She grinded against his face with her limited movement and he reacted like the champ he was, following her with every random movement she went, licking and sucking through the thin veil to her shaved pussy lips with a child-like eagerness.



She cried, this time tears of happiness as she came, and she squirted lightly with the force of her orgasm. The beast lapped it up hungrily as her chest heaved with the unexpected force of how she came, not even knowing that she could squirt.



Before she could regain her bearings, Brock kicked his feet back and jumped up, grabbing around her tight, toned stomach and forcing her against the wall of lockers again, her feet high in the air and dangling as her ass, for the first time, felt the pulse of his loins and the harness of his cock.



He finally released her hands, and she slammed them against the doors of the lockers beside her, bracing herself for the fucking she knew she was going to get - the fucking she needed.



Lesnar paid no mind, pulling down his pants to his knees, allowing his dick to break free of the loose, but ultimately constricting, confinements. His hand skimmed the crotch of her leggings again, before pulling the stockings down to beneath the cleft of her cheeks. He bent her knees forward, and her ass stuck out eagerly against his throbbing, veiny member.



With a grin, the Beast incarnate, Brock Lesnar, began feeding hungry cunt of Nicole Bella.



Nicole could only whine in pain and pleasure as she rested her head against Lesnar's chest, her eyes closed in shame as she grinded on the tip of his cock, slipping inch by inch into her weeping snatch. Her feet rested against the locker doors as she reached back with one arm to hold against his shoulder, using her other hand to pinch at her aching nipples. Her mouth opened in a small 'o' as his dick split her sensitive pussy apart, and she lifted herself up a little, only to fall back down against him. "FUCK!"



For the first time, Brock chuckled. "Not yet."



Grasping her wide muscular hips, the Beast spared no remorse as he speared himself into her well-lubricated pussy, and her muscles ripples around his cock, a small squelch being heard as he smoothly sheathed himself into her insides.



Nikki's eyes opened as a gasp of air was forced out of her lungs, and in one lunge, she felt full. She looked down the valley of her breasts and almost fainted at the sight. "You're giving me a fucking coke can!"



"And I didn't even need enhancements," he grinned cheekily, emphasizing his point by reaching up and grabbing her large breasts, loving how they fit in his hands so well.



She couldn't even bring herself to be angry in his embrace, still looking at the amount of cock that had yet to explore her. She was sure he was pushing against her cervix, and her tanned, stocking-clad legs could only shiver at the thought.



She began using her momentum to jump on his cock, grunting at each down stroke, while Brock's hands reached down to slide against her waxed smooth crotch. It took him a few seconds, but when he found her sensitive pearl, he began frigging the pink nubbin with reckless abandon.



With another gasp, she came around his cock, and she didn't stop fucking herself against him as rivulets of her cum leaked out of their fused, squelching organs to his large, hairless ball sac.



She whimpered as her sweat-slicked back slid smoothly against his stomach, her hair stuck against his chest, her fingers digging into the tightly packed muscle of the man - Beast! - behind her.



Her cunt muscles spasmed and rippled against his cock randomly, with no rhyme or reason, trying to find an imperfection in the long, thick rod of muscle pumped into her, and her stomach hurt at the exercise her body was forcing her to go through.



Her once tight pussy, now thoroughly wrecked and conquered, sealed tightly around the base of Brock Lesnar's massive dick, and she congratulated herself for a moment for taking what was easily the biggest cock she had ever taken in her life balls deep.



She wasn't sure she'd be wrestling anytime soon, which was probably problematic considering she was in a major storyline right now, but right now, she really couldn't gather herself enough to give a fuck.



His cock twitched inside her, and she spasmed again, letting out a cry as she wet herself further, her copulation fluids leaking down his powerful legs, which hasn't moved a bit.



She was losing strength in her thrusts, her orgasms making her weary, until she found herself being lifted again, and her legs dangled helplessly as she was carried over to the bench.



Back where she started, but now on her back, she laid alongside it as Brock lifted her long, smooth legs together and placed her feet next to his ears. Without missing a beat, he thrust again, and it somehow felt deeper than before.



"Oh, Fuck yes!" The beautiful busty Bella yelled, "Fuck me right there!"



Brock wordlessly obliged, sliding effortlessly forward and back into her slick pussy, and the two got a wonderful view of her gloriously stretched lips around his sticky, messy cock.



She wasn't exactly sure how long he fucked her, or how many orgasms she had, the powerhouse fucking into her with such force scattering her brain sufficiently. Her hand rubbed gently against her quim as she watched his angry cock gore into her with morbid fascination, as she patiently waited for him to get off into her hungry snatch.



She always wanted a baby.



When his cock twitched again, and the Beast gave a satisfied grunt, her body convulsed with delight as she felt his cum splash her insides, her legs tensing as she squeezed her sensitive nipples in her fingers.



When he finally pulled out, his seed spilled out of her messy quim with him, and she moaned at the loss. She cupped her hand over her sensitive privates, not bothering to close her legs, her womanhood too sore to do anything else.



She closed her eyes with a content sigh, until she felt something slick against her breasts. She peeked her eye open, and saw Brock messily rubbing his still-hard cock against her massive tits.



She didn't even notice him stand up and move. Never-the-less, staring at the... Beast Jr., if she could even call it that, up close, she licked her lips.



Brock shuddered subtly as Nikki reached up to wrap her long fingers around his giant member, and he took note of her amazement as she realized that her fingers couldn't wrap completely around it - not even close.



"You might have given me something John never wanted to give me," She whispered, gently sitting up, never taking her hand off his cock. She looked up into his eyes as she dragged her tongue across the underside of his dick. "I think I want to return the favor."



Brock didn't have to think long about what she was referring to, and didn't have the heart to tell her that he made sure the drug that was fed to her, had birth control.



When her soft, plump lips wrapped around the mushroom head of his dick, he made a mental note to give her exactly what she wanted next time. "That'll make for a good fourth season," he promised, and she grinned around his massive cockhead, before pushing herself forward on his dick.



It was going to be a good night.



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Author's Note: I don't even like Brock that much, but I just really wanted to write this. I think I'll write more, with him actually 'conquering' the WWE Universe.



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