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Deathbed	By : MadameManga Category: WWF/WWE > General Views: 2322 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrities of WWE/WWF. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
This story is very loosely inspired by the plot of the opera “The Flying Dutchman”. I’ve cast a number of familiar people in the roles; they are not intended to be seen as their real selves, but as actors playing parts. All recognizable characters are the property of WWE, and no infringement is intended. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only.
Written in 2001.
Deathbed

by Madame Manga
The rider’s face went stark white. “Bite yer tongue!” he gasped. He surged up and vaulted out of the tub, water streaming from his thighs and genitals. “You ain’t got a clue who’s listenin’ to ya!”
“It’s only words.”
“Words mean a lot when you speak of things like that, darlin’. If they’re spoke at the right time, in the right way—or the wrong way. It ain’t just hot air. Believe you me!”
“Oh, that’s right—you got yourself into trouble that way, didn’t you? The bad boy with an attitude and a big mouth? Looks like you’re better at getting yourself fucked than I am. You drove into the gates of Hell at full speed when you had no idea where you were going. That’s a heck of a lot more foolish than knowing your direction from the beginning.”
He snarled at me and shook his head like a lion, drops of water hitting me from his wet hair. “Don’t you speak to me that way, girl. I got a lot of years on you, and I ain’t fuckin’ stupid. I know what’s in store for me.”
“You know you’re going to lose your humanity? That your soul is going to wither and decay into something horrible, fit for your master? That you were always reserved for a special honor? Who do you think saved your life twice in order to kill you at just the right time?”
“What?” The rider’s eyes went wide in his pale face.
“Hadn’t you figured that one out yet? You were hand-picked a long time ago, and the Devil is getting impatient. The web is closing around you. Every day you move closer to his ultimate goal. Once you went frantic with grief for your dead friends, and now you’ve come to love the sight and taste of blood. You’ve become as intimate with death and depravity as I am. You hadn’t had sex in fifty years because women were too afraid of the Hellrider, and then you just decided to take me. You’re losing the memories that remind you of what you were, and the more you lose the less you’ll care. You won’t remember me for very long—I’ll fade away into nothing, because I’m only mortal. Some day, you won’t even remember that you were once human.”
“No!” His face was reddening with fury, his jaw jutting. “I’m a man. I’m a Texan, dammit! I’ll never forget who I am.”
I laughed wildly. “You think Texans have a special dispensation? In another fifty years, or a hundred, you’ll be nothing but a huge, foul demon with a human face! A loathsome slave to everything that’s evil and bloodthirsty in this universe. You’ll rape and strangle any woman who takes your fancy. You’ll eat the flesh of those children you still pity and split their bones for the marrow. You’ve served only fifty years in Hell, Deadman. You haven’t even tasted what’s in store for you.”
He made as if to backhand me and I instinctively ducked. No blow fell. I looked up to see him clenching his fists and directing a sickening, acid stare somewhere in the vicinity of my breasts, his lips drawn tightly against his teeth.
He didn’t even seem to see me. His demonic nature flared in every line of his face and powerful body, but he couldn’t win a struggle with his own substance. Shoulders quivering, he brought his fists up to his blazing eyes and pressed them closed. I watched silently, my body trembling in both anger and terrible pity.
I couldn’t help him. There was nothing I could do against the power of Hell. Two condemned human souls cowered naked against the awful domination of fate and death; whether they clung desperately to each other’s bodies or clawed and devoured them like cannibals, the darkness would ultimately bring all their efforts to nothing. Both of us by our own actions had consigned ourselves to darkness. Both of us had thrown away reconciliation with the light.
But he was right; I still had a chance, however slim. He had virtually none. His last hope would evaporate in a few hours, and then inevitably he would become what Satan wished him to be. I didn’t touch him as he slowly regained control of himself, because I knew he was beyond comfort. He loved me, but even if I had been able to offer him such a blemished gift, the love of a woman like me was nothing kindred to salvation.
“You’ll be wantin’ to get back to your Papa,” he said at last.
“Yes,” I replied, wiping my drying tears from my face. I turned away and went into the bedroom, finding my clothes and hurrying them on. Deadman followed after a moment and picked up his jeans. My boots were somewhere downstairs, so I pulled my still-damp hair over my shoulder to avoid wetting my shirt and took a barefoot step or two towards the door.
The rider reached out, slipping an arm around my waist and stopping me. He had not yet snapped his jeans and they slid a little way down his hips as he pulled me closer and put his face into my hair.
Drawing a few deep breaths through his nose, he stroked my cheek with one palm and held me in silence for several minutes. I didn’t resist, but I didn’t relax against him either. This was the point of no return, and both of us knew it.
“Don’t go yet, baby,” he said in a voice both soft and nearly shattered.
“I have to go.”
“Not yet.” The rider turned me in his arms and bent to my lips. “Oh, my darlin’,” he whispered in between kisses. “You can’t leave me like this. Just once more…I want to love you one more time.”
“Please…don’t…”
“Uh-uh. Not like that. I won’t use force on you—don’t you want me, Irene? I’ll call you anything you like. Just come and love me.” His jeans gaped open at the fly as he pulled my hips against his; the warm scent of his body surrounded me.
My hands pushed against his bare chest, my fingertips in the light hair. His voice had a strange note of desolate tenderness. “Won’t you tell me you want me, darlin’ Irene?”
“I…I…” The burn in my chest nearly choked me. But I couldn’t say the words; I had never said them. He was right—words meant a great deal, because some of them were impossible to form in my mouth. If I ever could say them, my transformation would be complete. All I could do was stare into his face, my lips trembling.
“C’mon, lie down with me,” Deadman said, moving backwards with his arms around me and approaching the bed. “Kiss me, baby. It’s the last time, so let’s make it a good one.” He nuzzled my throat through my hair. “It ain’t nothing but good with you, darlin’…”
“The last time…?” I echoed.
“I won’t ever see you again. I want to remember you like that, Irene. Long as I can. You, all soft and naked and pretty. Hair all around you on the pillow. Your skin tastin’ real sweet…”
He followed every phrase with a gentle, penetrating kiss, his hands stroking and tangling my hair. “Damn, you are so beautiful. So sexy—but you ain’t a nice girl atall. You know about the things I know—seems like you were born that way. Like you were made for me.”
Deadman raised his head and looked at me with an ardor that gained potency by its very hopelessness. “‘Course, there ain’t no such thing. I’m gonna lose you tonight. I wish it was gonna go on a little longer, but that’s the breaks.”
“Don’t you want me to stay?” I cried, suddenly clinging to him. “Don’t you believe I was meant to be here?”
“Nah, you ain’t.” He shook his head with a rueful smile. “You want to get on home to Papa. You don’t want to be here at noon tomorrow, anyhow. I’ll be gettin’ some visitors. Hope I was a good fuck for a couple nights.”
“You…you know it’s more than that!”
“Too bad, then. I’m gonna miss you. Come an’ fuck me sweet, baby.” He spoke softly, seductively, letting his Texas drawl sand off the rough edges of his deep voice. “Spread those pretty legs for your ol’ Deadman. He’s lookin’ for a little old-fashioned lovin’.”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes.” He put one knee on the bed and curled down with me.
For the last time, he unbuttoned my shirt and stroked my breasts. For the last time, he stripped me and himself and covered me with his huge body, my toes reaching his upper calves.
His weight sank both of us into the mattress as he raised his hips and rubbed the big head of his stiffening penis up and down the cleft of my sex. “I ain’t gonna hurt you if I put it in? Don’t lie to me, now.”
“You won’t hurt me.” I clasped my hands around his muscular neck and arched my head back, my body offered up to his. “Just fuck me...”
“You ain’t never gonna have to ask me that twice, darlin’,” he said with a lascivious growl and kissed me with hungry lips. I was a little dry from the bath, so Deadman wasn’t immediately able to find an easy passage. He kept his swelling cock pressed against my vulva while he put his hands on my breasts and massaged them, rolling the nipples between his fingers. His wet hair lay cold on my shoulders.
I looked into his face above mine, studying every line and feature, and put my fingertips to his cheeks. I wanted to remember him; I knew that he was going to remain with me in my dreams no matter what, but I tried to encompass him with my eyes and hands while I still had him.
His long jaw, his sloped nose, his red beard, the creases around his heavy-lidded eyes, the wide, grim, sensual line of his mouth. All of him—I listed every mark and scar and freckle, the bulky curves of his muscles, the litany of dark images that sleeved his massive arms.
Everything about him seemed made for me as I seemed made for him. I longed for his touch; he was an astonishing bedmate; I knew he had fallen in love with me. And both of us knew that it was impossible. He had his fate and his burden and I had mine. All we had left was one more chance to warm the darkness.
“Deadman…” I sighed.
“Right here, baby.” He lowered his body to mine and took his erection in one hand, working it between my labia. “Aw, feel that. Gettin’ all wet for me…”
“Yes...” He left his penis half lodged in my entrance and ran his fingers through my pubic hair. My clit seemed to spark when he touched it, his calloused fingers stroking my moisture up and around the hood until they slid easily and he could stimulate me. I tilted my pelvis to help him, opening my thighs wide around his body.
Looking down between our chests, I saw his hand flexing between my legs, his fingers large and a little rough but long and even graceful, coaxing my body to respond. My buttocks tightened and relaxed at his ministrations, but the warmth and sensual enjoyment I felt depended even more on the intense, cherishing expression on his face as he watched me.
He loves me, I told myself. He truly loved me for what I was, not just for my body or my sexuality, though that was a great part of the attraction between us. The darkest colors of my psyche were beautiful to him, as his deathly nature was to me. If only I were capable of the emotion that even a demon could feel…
Gradually his cock pressed forward, easing my tight walls apart. Closing my eyes, I rocked my hips to show him the rhythm of my pleasure, and moaned with every slight addition of his length within me. The rider kept rubbing my clit and inner lips; my stomach muscles clenched with my increasing arousal.
Opening myself even wider, I ran my hands down to his buttocks and pulled him inward. Deadman responded with a powerful thrust, my pelvis rolling up and back when he slammed into me. His thick shaft caught at my entrance and I let out a gasp. “Baby?” he said hoarsely. “I ain’t hurtin’ you?”
“Ohh…keep going…” The pinch eased when the rider drew out, and when he surged forward with a groan he sank deep inside my body, my moist, congested tissues yielding to him. I cried out, my breasts heaving.
He answered me with another groan, his eyes closing tightly, and kissed me. Drawing one foot up along his body, I pulled it from under his arm and bent my leg over his shoulder to let him go even deeper, moaning at his still-growing hardness as it filled me. His penis was so big I could feel it bumping my cervix, but after receiving it so many times over the last twenty-four hours I could now accommodate it more easily.
Deadman began to make love to me, thrusting in and out with my slick juices now smoothing his movements, taking long slow strokes as if to make the experience last forever. With a few repetitions he was grimacing, his cock rock hard.
The flared rim of the head stretched my entrance when he withdrew almost all the way and plunged back again, balls swinging against my buttocks. I tossed my head from side to side on the pillow, then lay back with a long sigh of ecstasy and felt his body shake.
Although he maintained a slow pace, he seemed overcome with passion, barely able to control himself, and as he took me I stroked his face and beard and watched his restraint grow thinner and thinner. His possession felt wonderful, his cock opening me to the depths with every penetration, but I concentrated on the emotions that provoked his changing expressions and his rapidly less-deliberate movements.
Already his sweat ran freely down his face and he breathed with a laborious, irregular cadence. Almost involuntarily, the rider began to thrust faster, sending quivering reverberations through me from groin to fluttering heart, and a great surge of tenderness for him mingled with the burn in my chest.
“Do you like fucking me, Deadman?” I whispered breathily. “Do you like pumping your hard cock in me?”
The rider moaned as if he were in pain. “God, woman!”
“Are you going to fuck the life out of me, lover?” He was going too fast for me to keep up, but I didn’t care. Knowing that I could send him to such fiery heights was bliss and I wanted to know how violent the inferno could become. “Are you going to shoot that hot load in my pussy?”
He nearly strangled on his cry. “Darlin’…if you keep talkin’ like that, I ain’t gonna last five seconds—!” His hands hit the pillow on either side of my head and he reared up, all his weight on hips and palms.
“Then come in me,” I replied. “Hard as you can.” The rider took me at my word and began to thrust fiercely. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I threw my head back and gave myself up to his savage lovemaking. Bruisingly heavy and fast, his strokes pinned me to the mattress until he howled deep in his throat and climaxed.
“Irene!” he yelled, lashing his head so that his hair whipped over my face and breasts. “God, I lov—”
I caught him by the ears and kissed him to cut off the phrase. It had slipped out without his meaning to say it, I knew—he had tried to stay aloof as long as he could, and he wanted to be able to let me go.
If everything was spoken between us, if every word that could be said was said, we would never be able to continue on our former paths. Everything would change; as Aitch had described it, the very weather wouldn’t be the same.
Deadman thrust deep and held the stroke; his cock throbbed with the ejection of his seed, my hip joints crackling from his force and weight. He went limp and crashed down on me.
For a few moments I couldn’t get a breath, the rider’s shoulder blocking my mouth and nose and his weight on my lungs expressing every ounce of air. I couldn’t stir him an inch by my own efforts. Massive as the lid of a granite sarcophagus, his body lay still except for his heavy panting.
My vision began to dim, but he roused himself and rolled to the side, his softening penis leaving my body, and eased me out from under him.
Several minutes passed before either of us could speak, and I cradled him in my arms, stroking his hair as he breathed hot exhalations in my ear. My heart thumped hard against him, but there was no answering vibration in his chest.
Thoughts whirling with emotions strange to me, I imagined that I could take some essential life force from my body and share it with him: the only thing he lacked. He and I barely seemed to exist as separate people; we were one entity for a little while, life and death lying in one bed, eternal lovers with a single heartbeat.

Continued...
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Deathbed