Unnatural Love

BY : FlameWolf
Category: WWF/WWE > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 4335
Disclaimer: I don’t know and have never met Undertaker, Sting, Hulk Hogan, Mankind, Shawn Michaels, Triple H, Vince Mc Mahon, Jim Ross, Paul Bearer, Kane or C.M. Punk. This is fiction, for fun and no profit will be made from it.

WARNING!!:  Torture and blood.

 

Author’s Note:  Neither Kane or Paul Bearer are nice people...



 

Chapter Seven: An Underhanded Plan

 

    After what seemed like an eternity, the battle was over.  ‘Taker had barely managed to win, sustaining more than a few injuries during the scuffle.  Just the fact the seemingly invincible man was bleeding from his lip as well as several gashes disturbed Sam.  In an instant, she was on her feet; heading to ringside with his hat and coat in her arms. His name on her lips, she was stunned when he leaned under the top rope to give her an almost vicious kiss.  Teeth nipped roughly at her lower lip, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth to tangle with her own. Eager fingers tangled in her hair, tightening painfully as he let out a low snarl.

    Tasting blood while her heart pounded in her ears, the trapped woman froze for a few seconds; unsure of how to respond to the unexpected assault.  With a cautious hand, she cupped a stubbled cheek as she began to respond. Melting into the contact, the Phenom’s embrace lightened until all his violence had faded for tenderness.  After a few moments, he pulled away; a shocked expression on his pale visage. Giving him an unsteady smile, she shook her head once to show there had been no harm done.

    Offering his trademark trench-coat and wide brim hat, she couldn’t help but notice Paul Bearer giving her the mother of all stink eyes.  Obviously still angry about her earlier rebuff, he was glowering at her like she had committed the worst sin he had ever seen. He was so focused, he didn’t even notice his ward was making his way toward him.  It was only when the urn was taken from under his right arm that he finally noticed anything was happening at all. Letting out a squawk of indignation, he spun to give the thief a chewing out. When he saw Undertaker glowering down at him, he visibly shrank away.

    Narrowing his bottomless eyes, the towering warrior clutched the obviously precious object while making his way back to Samantha.  As soon as he got close enough, he was dropping the cool, metal cylinder into her upturned palms. Eyes widening, the stunned femme took in a deep breath before looking up to meet his eyes.  Quirking the right corner of his mouth, the much taller man turned on his booted heel and began to head backstage. Vince was on his feet and following him, his jaw set with rage.

    Wondering what the problem was, Sam simply shook her head.  Maybe it would be best to make her way to the room she shared with Undertaker.  She had no idea how long Vince would chew him out, let alone why the manager was pissed in the first place.  Besides, she had to get the urn to safety as soon as possible. While she didn’t know what would happen if it fell into the wrong hands, she had no real desire to find out.  So, with a wave to Sring, she walked toward the ramp ‘Taker and Vince had used just moments earlier.

    The much shorter manager was already in his talent’s face, spittle flying from his lips while he screamed.  As far as she could tell, ‘Taker was supposed to lose the last fight. Feeling more than appalled at the very notion of the mighty wrestler taking a dive, she made her way quickly toward the stairs.  Sting, who had been close behind for most of the journey, had suddenly disappeared between reaching the backstage and entering the dungeon. Finding herself alone, Sam immediately felt her courage leave her.  It was very possible that Kane was down there. Without his imposing brother, it was likely the masked brute would do something horrible to her.

    Looking down at the metal container she was holding, she let out a defeated sigh before glaring back down the stairs with a look of determination.  No matter what, she had to protect this urn. Even now, Paul Bearer was making his way toward her; his jaw set as he moved. Giving one, last look to ‘Taker and seeing Sting had been dragged into the fight by Vince; she began to feel the thread of suspicion begin to wind around her heart.  Something about all of this was too convenient. Almost like a... Just as the thought finished, a rough hand was covering her mouth and she was yanked into the darkness of the dungeon.

    Cackling quietly, Paul followed; waddling his way down the stairs until he caught up to his other ward.  “Told you Vince wouldn’t mind helping. Just expect to be in a fight with your brother either tomorrow or the next day,” cooed his abnormally high voice before he was reaching out for the urn.  Glaring down at the squat assistant, she bit down hard on the hand over her mouth while kicking out at the man below her. Next thing she knew, her backside was hitting the solid concrete. Not taking the time to question what was happening, Sam made a break for their room.  Once inside, she would at least have a heavy, metal door between her and her assailants. Not to mention the fact the urn would be safe too.

    Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before the two men were in hot pursuit.  Gasping in breaths through her sore lungs, she made a quick decision. Flinging open the door a crack, she rolled the urn inside before shutting it again.  While Paul was desperate to get it back from her, she highly doubted he would be dumb enough to go in ‘Taker’s room for it. In fact, the overweight man was rarely allowed over the threshold.  If he was discovered in there without permission, it was likely the consequences wouldn’t be good. The look on his face when she turned back around to face the pair told her all she needed to know.

    The fat, short man was fuming, his soft skin jiggling while the pale skin on his face turned red.  Pursing his lips, he simply pointed at her with a shaking, pudgy hand. With a sickening, growling noise that sounded like a dog trying to laugh, Kane bent to fling her over his right shoulder.  Kicking and squirming, Sam scrabbled at his rock hard shoulder with the heels of her hands. Opening her mouth and taking in a deep breath to scream for help, she let out a grunt of pain when the arm gripping around her waist squeezed.  All her air left her in a wheezy huff and she felt the beginnings of terror begin to blossom inside her.

    Baring her teeth, she increased her efforts to get free.  Whatever was planned, it couldn’t be good. In a vicious striking motion, she bit the beast’s ear; drawing a growl from the muscle-bound man.  Raising his other, meaty fist, he hit her over the back of her head; her body going limp against him. Then the massive wrestler was moving into the dungeon that served in his room, Paul Bearer watching with a triumphant expression on his unnaturally pale visage.  Yet, that triumph soon faded for fear. It wouldn’t be long before ‘Taker found out what had happened. Once that happened, it would likely be open season on both him as well as Kane.

    Licking his lower lip nervously, he hurried back up the metal stairs; only slightly relieved to see his ward was still being berated by Vince.  It wouldn’t be long before either Sting or ‘Taker figured out something was up. When that happened, all Hell would break loose. All he could hope for was that Kane would finish with the bitch quickly.  Once she was gone, everything could go back to normal. The Phenom would be back under his control, returning to his more zombie-like state. Smiling to himself, he bowed his head and made his way past the trio.  He never saw the pair of fighters narrow their eyes suspiciously at his passage.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~In the Dungeon~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

    Groaning, Sam opened her eyes slowly while her head throbbed like an infected tooth.  While her vision focused, she made a move to sit up. Metal shackles instantly pinned down her wrists, bringing her to full consciousness with a snap.  Almost immediately, she could see she wasn’t in the room she and Undertaker shared. In that moment, her memories returned and an icy chill filled her veins.  She had been taken by Kane and he had likely taken her to his private chambers. A room that was much different than the one his brother used.

    Instead of stone walls, they were a strange, metal grating.  Some parts of it were covered with a thin, paper-like material.  Thick chains with large meat hooks on the ends hung from the ceiling and implements of torture were hung up on the wall opposite of her.  Beneath them was a blood coated, wooden work desk. Yet, there was no sign of Kane. Just as she was beginning to wonder where he was, she became aware of the sound of raspy breathing coming from behind her head.

    With a feeling of dread broiling in the pit of her stomach, she tilted her head back; her gaze moving from a black clad stomach all the way up to a familiar mask.  Cold, black eyes locked onto her own, meaty hands cupping her cheeks. Unlike his brother, his skin was so hot it was almost painful. Drawing a breath in through clenched teeth, Sam tried to pull away but found she literally had nowhere to go.  There was a solid surface under her that prevented her from pulling away too far.

    Snarling, the wild haired beast tightened his grip on her face; lowering his masked visage until they were nearly touching.  “Mine,” rasped an ill-used voice, sounding more monstrous than human. With a swift motion, he was shoving himself away from her; stomping his way over to the work table across the room.  Watching as he reached for a curved, serrated blade; Sam felt a bit of rage mix with the fear rushing through her system.

    “You can mark me up all you want but that does not make me your property.  I only belong to one man and he happens to be your brother,” hissed out of her, making her would-be tormentor whip his head around to likely level her with an intense glower.

    Breathing heavily for a few seconds, the behemoth gripped his chosen weapon before making his way toward her bound body.  Letting out a gruff, grinding sound that was probably laughter, he lifted her shirt so he could place the tip of his weapon against her skin.  Dragging the tip down, he created a long, shallow wound along her lower stomach. Biting her lower lip against a cry of agony, she spat in his masked face; drawing a gruff snarl.  With a vicious motion, he was drawing another wound from the opposite direction; making a messy ‘x’ across her stomach. Almost like he was marking where he was going to start cutting.

    The symbolism not lost on her, Samantha began to scream in earnest.  Letting out a disheartening chuckle, Kane moved up to circle her breasts almost teasingly with the flat of his blade.  He wasn’t the least bit bothered by how loud she was screaming, not giving her much hope for her chances of being found before anything too horrible happened.  Closing her mouth and gritting her teeth, she met the eyes of her tormentor.  No matter what he did to her, she would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her pain.  Even if she had to bite through her bottom lip, she would make no further sounds.

    Something felt... wrong.  Like this was a massive distraction.  Daring to break eye contact with the boss, ‘Taker hazarded a quick look over his shoulder to see if Sam was still safe.  When he saw she was gone, he felt his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach. Before his brain had fully comprehended what was happening, his body was moving.  The only thing that stopped him was a hand gripping is right wrist in a painful grip. Turning his head, he saw Vince glaring up at him. “Where th’fuck ya think you’re going?  We’re not done here.  None of us,” he spat out, narrowing his eyes at both fighters in front of him.

    For the first time since he had awoken here, he felt the urge to disobey this man.  To just shove him out of the way and run down to the dungeons to see if his woman was in their room.  The only reason he hadn’t done so already was an instinctual fear. Something buried deep inside him that urged him not to disobey this man.  Yet, even that wouldn’t keep him in check for long. In a short amount of time, Samantha had become extremely important to him. She tickled long buried memories.  Memories of a life he’d had before he woke up here. She was the only person on this Earth he would be willing to disobey his boss over.

    Seeming to sense this, the manager disguised as an announcer began the process of wrapping up what he was talking to them about.  By the time he was done, the ‘Phenom’ felt nearly frantic. A new sensation for the normally emotionless male. Striding toward the metal stairs that led down at a fast clip, he became aware of the fact he was being followed.  Turning his head, he saw his long-time rival right on his heels. Gritting his teeth, he simply kept going rather than waste time on arguing.

    Making his way to the familiar dungeons below, he made a bee-line straight to his room.  The sense something was terribly wrong had become extremely pervasive. The only thing that would help him dispel it would be to see her safe in their room.  When the door opened and he only saw his urn on the floor, he felt his blood turn to ice. “Fuck! Shit! Kane,” came an unnecessary declaration from behind him.  Giving a singular nod, he spun on his heel and made his way to his brother’s room. Breaking into a sprint, he prayed to any Gods that were listening that she was still alive.

    The entire world was pain mixed with the smell of blood, grunts of effort coming from the beast that was using her body as a twisted canvas.  Yet, to her credit, she hadn’t made any noise to give away just how much agony she was in. A fact that only seemed to drive Kane to new heights.  Growling low in his throat, the masked beast finished the latest scrawl in her skin; taking a few steps back to assess his work. Where once was blank flesh there were now beautiful swirls interlacing with intricate patterns.  Among the designs were more than a few signatures of his name, marking her permanently as his property.

    Noticing the lack of new pain almost immediately, Sam looked over Kane to see what he was up to.  When she saw a callused hand reached for a blood splattered cheek, she flinched away. Snarling in disapproval, the masked terror gripped her chin in a painful grip before forcing her head back to face him.  Lifting the disguise slightly to reveal burned, mutilated lips, he bent to take her mouth in a kiss. Just as his melted lips were about to met hers, there was a sudden, hard crash from the vicinity of the door.  Turning to face the entry, he placed his mask back on his face and narrowed his eyes.

    Hope flittering cautiously in her chest, she sucked in a breath and let out the loudest scream she could manage.  “In here!!,” roared out of her like a lion, shocking both her as well as her captor.  Like she’d hoped, this prompted more banging as whoever was out there tried to break the door down.  Growling like the animal he was, Kane tightened his grip on the instrument he had been using to torture her; obviously intending to use it as a weapon against his own brother.  Shifting his eyes toward her, he made a possessive noise before bracing himself for combat. A few seconds later, the metal door came crashing down. In a blur of black and purple, Undertaker rushed into the room; tackling his sibling to the concrete floor.  Behind him followed Sting, crimson eyes already scanning the room for any sign of Sam.

    The second he saw her, he was at her side; swearing gruffly under his breath while he worked to free her from the torture table she had been laid out on.  After what felt like an eternity to the naked female, the wrestler found the latches for the cuffs; helping her sit up on the slightly inclined surface. “Fucking Christ...  What did that monster do to you?” hissed behind her, the disgust clear in his voice while he covered her with a near-by towel.  While it was tattered and thin, it would at least hide her body from unwanted gazes. Turning her head toward the two males grappling on the ground, Sam reluctantly allowed herself to be led out of the room.

    While she didn’t like the idea of just leaving Undertaker there, she felt even more uncomfortable about the fact that she was naked as well as bleeding from the innumerable, shallow cuts on her skin.  Once in the hall, she leaned into Sting for comfort; wincing when every movement she made irritated her wounds. It felt like he had left very little of her skin untouched, making her terrified to look in a mirror.  Right now, all she wanted was her wounds wrapped and a loose, comfy outfit. After that, she really didn’t care what happened. “Don’t worry hun. I’m sure ‘Taker has first aid in his room. I can help ya get patched up until he can have a look at you,” purred a quiet baritone beside her as they reached the door to a room she now considered a sanctuary.

    As the man beside her opened the door, she rushed inside to scoop the urn off the floor.  Cradling the metal container in her arms, she made her way to the table; setting it down carefully before placing the towel around her shoulder on a chair.  Taking a seat, she crossed her arms over her chest while her legs crossed to shield her womanhood. Avoiding the gaze of her escort, she fixed her focus on a faraway wall while he came into the room to examine her.  Hovering his hands over the intricate designs that had been carved into her thighs, Sting felt the desire to kill well inside him. In all his years of fighting here, he had never seen anything this gruesome or sadistic.  “Okay hun. Stay right there. First I have to get something to clean those with,” he explained before getting to his feet.

    Once some distance was between him and the sliced up female, he allowed the forced smile on his face to fall into a severe frown.  Hands curling into shaking fists, he ran to the room that served as the bathroom; heading right for the cabinet under the sink. After some digging, he pulled out the supplies he needed and made his way back to the shaking woman.  A bit surprised ‘Taker wasn’t back yet, he got to work on making sure all the designs in her skin were cleaned as well as disinfected. He had just finished working on one of her thighs when the ‘Phenom’ came rushing into the room.

    Getting to his feet to put some distance between himself and a very naked Samantha, Sting fixed his eyes to those of a man he respected but had been forced to become an enemy of.  Narrowing his eyes, Undertaker gave low snarl before turning his gaze toward his lover. Taking that as a clear signal to leave, Sting gave Sam a last glance before he went out the door.  As much as he wanted to make sure she was okay, it wasn’t really his job. Shutting the door behind him, he made his way back toward where Kane lived. After what happened, he wanted to have a few words with the masked monster.

    Sensing she was alone with ‘Taker, Sam tensed and kept her gaze away from him.  Despite the fact she knew it wasn’t her fault, she felt a deep shame. A shame that was punctuated by the stinging wounds covering her flesh.  Some part of her felt she should have fought harder, done more to try to escape before she had been knocked out. Closing her eyes, she flinched when she felt callused hands cup her face.  “Look at me,” rumbled from above her, the command in the voice almost undeniable.

    Yet, deny it she did; shaking her head firmly.  Growling, Undertaker tightened his grip on her chin, forcing her head to turn and face him.  Yet, her eyes were still closed and he released a snarl of displeasure. “Samantha... look at me,” hissed another demand as he gave her a sharp shake.

    “I-I can’t,” whispers out of the pale, traumatized woman as she tries to pull out of his grasp without opening her eyes.

    Letting out another, feral sounding noise, Undertaker pressed his clammy forehead against hers.  “Yes you can, now open your eyes and look at me,” he roared, making her eyes snap open out of simple shock.  What she saw took her breath away. The normally cold, empty eyes of her lover were burning with a murderous rage as well as deep worry.

    “Good.  Now, I want you to listen to me.  None of what just happened to you was your fault.  I don’t see you any differently than before. While it make take you a while to believe me, I need you to keep this in mind,” he assured before placing a passionate kiss on her lips.

    Pulling away, he looked over her wounds with a serious expression on his goateed face.  “Though, I wish I had killed the bastard after seeing what he’s done to you,” continued his tense voice as he bent to look over the bandages covering one thigh.  With careful hands, he undid all of Sting’s hard work; exposing her recently covered wounds to the air. Before she could ask what he was doing, he began to murmur something under his breath in a guttural language.  A language that didn’t sound like it had come from anywhere on Earth, let alone their dimension. To make matters worse, an ominous, red glow had covered his hands.

    Still murmuring low and under his breath, he placed both palms on her thighs.  Hissing in pain, Sam fought not to pull away while the strange light flooded into all the swirls that were imbedded into her skin.  Stinging pain turned into something unbearable, a scream crowding behind her tightly clasped lips. After what seemed like an eternity, the pain ebbed to a strange, tingling sensation; becoming almost pleasant.  Looking down at herself, she was shocked to see the cuts were disappearing; leaving behind unscarred skin.



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