Passion of Death
Chapter 1
by
Lornadane
Disclaimer: All X-men and X-villians are Marvel's characters. Please don't sue me. This was just fun to write. Aerin is my character.
Notes: If you're offended by this material I apologize. I don't condone non-consensual sex, this just fit into the story. It's pure fantasy and would not wish it to happen to anyone in reality.
It had been 3 days. Three days of terror and pain being forced to do battle with someone she knew only as Death. Or so she presumed. There were no clocks on the walls, no windows, no way of telling day from night. Only this tiny cell and the "training arena". She presumed that it had been three days. She assumed they had given her a night to recover from each battle. Only they knew.
She had woken to a cold concrete floor in a circular room with no visible doors. Only a gallery 10, maybe 15 feet above. As she sat up she put a hand to the cold steel of the collar around her neck. It was about a centimeter thick and an inch wide. It fit tightly around her throat almost choking her. She felt several notches and what might have been buttons on the outer part. But there were no clasps. No definitive opening like the room. She wore only a black sleeveless leotard. No shoes. A far different outfit from the scrub top and jockey shorts she had worn to bed. Bed. She remembered going to sleep, and then nothing. No dreams came back to her. She couldn't remember even getting up to use the toilet.
A movement in her periphery made her look up quickly. A short compact lethal man stood across from her, watching her closely as she rose to her knees. He wore a blue and silver leotard with a red loin cloth and ram's skull between his legs. She could see his dark menacing eyes, but a red cloth wrapped tightly around his head covering everything but those terrible eyes enshrouded his face. Eyes that held murder in them. Eyes that had seen more violence than she could imagine.
An even shorter man stood in the gallery watching them both intently, with a smile.
"Let the battle begin!" he pronounced with satisfaction. "Fight, weak one. Fight for your freedom to survive another day. Or die like the weakling you are."
The words barely registered across her brain before the man in blue leaped toward her, cracking her across the face, forcing her to stumble back and down to the ground. The man in the gallery laughed. She looked across to the killer stalking toward her. Panic set in. She turned her head around searching for some door, some escape route, some way to get out of there, but there were only the smooth gray walls of the circle. No chance to climb those walls. And he was here, grabbing her by the arm, dragging her to her feet before laying a blow to her belly.
"Show some spirit before I take you down, frail." he taunted as she staggered back again, the wind knocked out of her.
"Take you down" rang across her mind. "Not kill." she thought. She stood up straighter breathing heavy. Panic was surfacing again. No. She couldn't give into it. She had to think.
SLAM! She was thrown against the wall, her back hitting the hard surface. She managed to throw herself slightly forward just in time to keep her head from slamming against the wall. She rolled to her side and as a hand reached for her a second time to pull her from the floor, she kicked out as hard as she could. Harder than she thought possible. Her right foot impacted with the man's stomach and it was his time to stagger back. She leapt to her feet, not thinking, only moving with instinct, knowing she had to keep him off balance. She brought both her arms together swinging out toward his head. She met his forehead with her hands and he went back again.
"Excellent." Came the smug voice from the gallery. "Perhaps Death will let you live another day or two."
She ignored him, knowing it would only distract her. And distraction would give her opponent the edge to recover. Instead she moved forward quickly, positioning herself on her left foot to give her leverage as she kicked out with the other, aiming it again at the head. She missed her target as Death recovered enough to dodge her blow. And with a well-placed hand he grasped her thigh and pushed her back. In a flash he was on her, hitting her with his fists. Pounding her head, her torso. She raised her hands trying to fend off the blows, trying to get a chance to get out of the way. But the blows were coming in faster and faster. He was beating her down. She couldn't possibly survive this.
"Enough, Death, enough." smiled the man from the gallery. "She has proven that she has a survivor's will, if not the strength to survive. We will give her another chance."
Death looked up at the man and nodded. Aerin slumped to the ground, blood trickling from her nose. Bruises beginning to form on her arms and face. "It's over", she thought as unconsciousness took her.
But it wasn't over by far. Two more time's men wearing what looked to be Egyptian headdress had taken her to the circular room. They were naked except for a cloth wrapped around their waist. They carried spears. She knew she couldn't overcome them and even if she did, where would she run too. She had no idea where she was. She knew absolutely nothing of their motives. She had no clue as to why she was being tortured, beyond the fact that she was being asked to fight for her survival.
The second day was much like the first. She tried desperately to keep him off balance. She was able to land several direct hits that kept him at bay. But again he brought her down. Pummeling her onto her knees, forcing her to weakly try to protect her face from his onslaught. And again the strange little man in the gallery stopped him from beating her to death.
On the third day, she chose another strategy. She watched him. She tried to copy his moves. He was obviously an experienced fighter and she hoped it would give her some clue on how to bring him down. This time when he leapt to strike her, she feinted to her left and dodged to her right as she had seen him do previously. This caught him momentarily off guard and she was able to strike him on the back of his head sending him sprawling to the floor. She pounced, striking him with all her might. Clubbing him with hands knotted together. "SON OF A BITCH!" she yelled, hitting him over and over, not thinking, not stopping to wonder at the ferociousness of her attack. Every movement pure animal rage and instinct. But it did no good. He did not raise his hands to protect himself from the blows. He merely waited for a chance to reach out passed her arms, grab her waist and shove her with all his might. And he was on her again, ready to punch her into unconsciousness.
"STOP!" called the watcher. "Impressive. You are learning, weakling."
And here she was again in her tiny cell with no clue as to why this was happening. Her room offered her little hope. A small cube with only a bed. Not even a place to relieve herself. And certainly no sink to cleanse her wounds. There were no vents she could see. But she could feel the airflow from above. She wondered at the technology. The door slid open and shut, controlled by the panel she had seen outside, the one with strange symbols she couldn't hope to read. Her guards ignored every word, every plea for understanding as they roughly pushed her to battle each day.
Why? Why was she tortured this way? Who were these men and what did they want from her? She was without a clue, as she went back over her life, trying to gain one inkling in the hopes that she could understand. And possibly use that knowledge to her advantage. But she could see nothing in her past that would explain this future. She had had a small insignificant life. Tragedies to be sure, but nothing out of the ordinary. Her parents had been non threatening. They weren't wealthy and had sadly died when she was sixteen. She had a brother who took care of her after they had died, and saw her off to college. There had been little inheritance. Enough to pay for a few years at the small town university she attended. She had managed to get a baccalaureate degree in nursing and was now working in a New York hospital ER. It was interesting and exciting, but again, not really out of the ordinary.
So was this random torture. Luck of the draw. Some government experiment where her name had been pulled out of a lottery. She lay on her side on the bed, holding her chest tightly, certain of having cracked a rib. Every breath hurt. Her body ached down to the roots of her hair. Her face felt swollen in places and she might have had a black eye. She wouldn't make it, she thought in despair. She would die here. And for what. Some sadistic man's pleasure. Two. Two sadistic men. All she knew was what she was told. To fight for the freedom to survive another day. She wanted desperately to cry at that moment, but found no energy for even that effort. So she would fight again tomorrow and maybe the day after. And if she were lucky, maybe the day after that. Until the man in the gallery gave Death permission to beat her to death.
But fight she would. Till her last dying breath. She would not cower. She may have tried to run once out of sheer terror. But not now. She was not as afraid anymore. And she was angry. Perhaps that anger would save her.
The door slid open. Startled, she turned her head to look at the entrance. It was too early for the guards to come for her. At least she thought is was too early. But then as her eyes adjusted to the light streaming in from the hallway, she saw the familiar blue and silver leotard and terror paralyzed her where she lay. No thoughts of anger now. She could not think at all for several moments as he stared at her. It registered in her mind that his face was revealed and he was not disfigured as she had surmised. It was a rugged face with wild black hair, blacker than the deepest wood at night. Two peaks swept back on either side. Impossible that they would stand up like that. But everything seemed impossible about this man. Thick sideburns framed his hard square face. And those terrible eyes bent on her destruction.
Suddenly her thoughts came racing back. "Why was he here" was most pressing in her mind. And then as realization hit her she prepared herself to spring from the bed. But he was too quick. He was on her pushing her back against the bed and placing each arm on either side of her chest. Shoving her hips over against the wall with his body he sat down next to her and watched her intently. Her breath was coming in small gasps. She felt the cracked rib more intensely than before. She could think of no way to get past him so she stared back at him, pushing down the stark terror that was climbing up her throat.
He raised a hand just then and she flinched back, cursing herself for her fearful action, not wanting to show him any weakness. "NO!" her mind screamed over and over.
"NONONONONO!" She had thought they had taken everything from her. Her life, her job, her money, her dogs, her life. But she had been wrong. Now they would take everything from her. Her pride and her dignity, perhaps even her sanity. She would die if he took her. She wouldn't want to live. And if she couldn't kill herself, she would make him do it. She would goad him into it somehow. She could not live if he raped her.
His meaty hand took hold of her chin and turned it slowly from side to side as he examined the bruises he had inflicted on her.
"You'll live." he said and forced his mouth onto hers. Before she could think his tongue pushed its way between her lips. On instinct she bit down hard, tasting his blood. He only smiled and grabbed her jaw forcing it open to remove his tongue.
"First blood to you". He chuckled then, a low growl in his throat devoid of mirth. And then he stared down at her, his face deadly serious.
"He has commanded this and I intend to follow his orders. Now it can go easy for you or hard. You can cooperate and we'll spend a pleasant night, or you can fight me. I'll win again, and you'll just hurt even more. What's it gonna be, darlin'?" he smiled menacingly at the term of affection. "Will you cooperate?"
Panic told her to give in. Pride and anger won out. "No!" she hissed.
"Good." He nodded, satisfaction written on his face. "I never liked the easy way. 'Sides, you're a fighter. One who'll fight even when she knows the odds are against her. I like that."
Has he spoke he pushed her down into the bed cupping a breast in his hand. She swung out at him, but he caught her arm in his other hand, sweeping down to collect her other arm and raising them both above her head. Then he popped a middle claw. A scream formed in the back of her mind, but her jaw, as well as the rest of her body became paralyzed. This was not happening. Th...that claw...it couldn't have. That's impossible. Death had not shown his claws during their "training sessions". A shiver went down her spine. He must be a mutant came a thought far in the back of her mind. But she had never seen one up close. And never one this deadly. It made sense. His strength, his speed, the claws. Mutants. But she wasn't a mutant. No powers had come to her during puberty. Just pimples and raging emotions. Why would they pit a human against a mutant, and one this deadly. They must want her dead.
Suddenly her paralyses broke. She didn't want to die. Not like this. Not torn to bits by this mutant claw extending from his hand like a grotesque appendage. She kicked out at him, seeking with her leg to hit any body part. Her body flailed against him. He had her arms secure, but the rest she could use as a weapon.
"Be still!" he commanded. And as if on cue her body went limp. "Or I will cut ya." As she lay there terror stricken and unable to fight back, he raised the claw to her right shoulder cutting the strap to her leotard. And with one swift move he cut the left strap. Then slowly, ever so slowly he moved his hand down her stomach to her nether regions and making a small slit at the edge of her clitoris he inserted the claw in the opening and began ripping up until the material fell away. She held her breath as she watched him work. Afraid to move less the claw slip and cut into her.
"That's good." he grunted, eyeing the length of her from her full soft round breasts to the velvet gold mound between her legs. He then made short work of the legs of her leotard, tearing away the cloth without the precision of his first cuts. "That's better." He grinned and sheathed his claw.
He looked back at her. Lying there, unable to move, much less breath, naked under him, her body flushed. "You want me." he growled. "Or at least your body wants me. I can smell it on ya." He caressed a breast, pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It stood erect and swollen and he bent to suckle it as his hand proceeded to the other nipple, bringing it to life. Aerin felt a warmth between her legs and a tightening. As if knowing what he would do next, she crossed her legs tightly. Spying the movement, he laughed. "You think I can't get down there?" As if to prove his boast he pushed his hand roughly down between her thighs, smirking. His middle finger swept the length between her vaginal lips. He pulled his hand away and sniffed the finger he had inserted. "Yer ready for me, aren't ya, darlin'?" He then put his finger in his mouth and sucked it slowly, savoring her juices.
It was too much. His arrogance and her arousal. She spat at him, cursing him, "GODAMN YOU! GODAMN YOU TO HELL!" He hesitated, and a sadness crossed over his face. "He already has." he said, so low she almost didn't here it. "He already has." But then the emotion was gone, replaced by violence and desire. Not to sate a bodily lust, but to conquer. He would have her body and then take her soul.
He rose slowly, keeping an eye on her. He might be the stronger of the two, but he was wary just the same. She was cornered and that made her more dangerous. He let go of her hands, still watching to make sure she wouldn't bolt. When he was satisfied that she would stay down, he began to strip off his training clothes.
His standing up caught her off guard. She expected him to take her fully clothed, the better to accentuate her nakedness and rob her of pride. But as he stood, she found herself looking straight at the door from between his spread thighs. "It's unlocked" the thought came to her. "He couldn't have locked it from in here. I didn't see him. He may have programmed it to lock on his entrance, but that would leave him locked in here with me. How would he get out." She thought of the guards, but this was her only chance. If the door was unbarred, she could escape. And she had too. She could not let him do what he intended.
Like lightening, she sprang from the bed hoping to catch him unaware as she ducked around him. But with a speed that defied physics, his arm came out catching her by the waist and throwing her back toward the bed.
Her head cracked against the wall and she slumped down onto the bed like a broken doll.
"You asked for the hard way, didn't cha?" he spoke angrily. "Well, you got it, girl." He continued to undress. Aerin felt her head throb. She reached around to the back of her skull, amazed that she was able to move, and pulled back a hand covered in blood. "Good." she thought, fatigue washing over her. "I'll have a concussion, fall asleep, and die. Or a subdural bleed." She felt the back of her head again. The bleeding had slowed, and she noticed only a small laceration. "I didn't pass out." she thought sadly.
She looked up at Death. He was completely undressed by then, standing over her, satisfied that she had been subdued for the moment. Adrenaline hit her as she looked to his erect penis. The size of it. She couldn't. It wasn't possible. She moaned and moved toward the corner of the bed, trying to get as far away as was physically possible. His engorged member stood nine inches from root to tip. It was not only long but also thick, veins bulging at the sides.
"You can't...I couldn't....don't you see...." pride was crushed under a wave of terror. She had only one card left to play. "I've never."
He paused in his tracks. "What do ya mean you've never?" His eyes grew to slits and he frowned, disconcerted. That couldn't be possible. She was a young beautiful girl.
Twenty-three at the most. She'd have had hundreds of opportunities. He didn't take her for a prude. Then he smiled, wicked and wild. It was her only chance. She thought the ruse would stop him, and it almost did. "First time for everything, darlin'. First time for everything."
He wasn't stopping. "Please, please don't do this." she pleaded, trying to melt into the wall. She had no energy left. The blow to the head had left her woozy and drained. She couldn't fight and this would hurt her more than any wound he'd given her with the strike of his hand. He wasn't stopping. Taking a hold of her legs he pulled her down the bed and lowered himself on top of her, his weight crushing her. Even if she had had the energy to fight him she had no leverage to attack him. He secured her arms on either side of her head using both of his hands to push them down tightly against the bed. Then using his knee he forced her legs apart. He was between her now. She closed her eyes, biting her lips to keep from screaming, but a small whimper escaped as she felt his penis rock slightly against her vaginal lips.
"Hush." he whispered. "It's all over now."
He moved into her slowly, his shaft driving forward with a will of it's own. It took all his determination not to tear into her, possibly ripping her. The fight was over. He had won. Again. But something kept him from humiliating her further. She had fought like a tiger. He admired that she had never really given up. Even now, inches from defeat, he could feel her defiance. He could smell it in her tightly suppressed breathing. He thrust forward another inch. And frowned. She was tight. Tighter than anyone he had ever made love to. Had she been telling the truth. He looked at her, eyes closed, biting her lip, trying to hold back the fear. Perhaps.
Suddenly, she pulled her hips down and away from him. Both his anger at her deliberate use of his hesitation and his desire caused him to ram forward into her. She screamed more in fear than in pain. But make no mistake, there was pain. Burning, searing pain at the friction he caused. Her womanhood ripped open inside. She felt torn in two. He stopped. She bit down hard on her lower lip, not wanting to scream again. For if she did she knew she would scream and scream until her voice was lost to her.
He pulled slowly out of her with tremendous control. And slowly thrust back into her. She was moistening. So tight, so wet. He could feel his passion building. But he didn't want to end it so quickly. He had hurt her, he knew, but now that he had taken her virginity there was no point in stopping. However, he could give her pleasure after the pain. Again he moved out of her slowly, letting the head of his penis rest at the opening, teasing her. Involuntarily she moved her hips toward him, cursing her body's betrayal. He looked up at her. Her eyes were still shut tight refusing to believe her own desire. Refusing to give in. He grunted his enjoyment.
"The pain will ease. Don't worry." He thrust gently back into her. Again and again, slowly but tempo building. Suddenly he wanted to see her eyes. "Look at me." He said to as he went into her again, bringing his face close to hers. Her eyes flickered open. Anger, hatred, sadness, pain, betrayal, all played out in her eyes. And suddenly defiance as she looked at him and saw what she took to be pity. She turned her head away from him toward the wall and closed her eyes again. "Look at me." he commanded again. She refused. His own anger and arrogance came rising to the surface and he thrust into her savagely, demanding her with his very body to look at him. And she defied him. He began to quicken his pace. He began to thrust hard and fast. But sensing his anger give way to the lust building inside him, he slowed again. His breath became ragged and labored as he reached his climax. Damnable curiosity caused Aerin to turn her head back to him and look at his face. His eyes were closed, concentrating on the task at hand. A drop of sweat rolled across his tortured brow. She lay very still beneath him feeling him fill her to the core. The pain had mostly subsided. And she only felt tired again. A tiny flash of pleasure washed over her. She shut her eyes tight, refusing to give in. But as another wave rolled over her, she felt her self-control breaking down. Then Death plunged inside her once again pushing hard against her cervix and shuddering as he came. She felt him inside of her drenching her with sperm, her own enjoyment denied with that final thrust coming too soon.
He lay inside her for a long time. His face buried in her neck, enjoying, really enjoying the warmth of her beneath him. So tight and wet. Another time, another place this might have been perfection. And she was angry, still defying him with the tenseness of her body. If she would only relax, he thought. And then he thought of his Master. The one who had ordered him to take her. He should leave now. He had done what he had been ordered to do. His master, who knew him, knew how he would feel about this girl.
"She is stronger than she thinks. But you are the stronger. You will subdue her to your will. And she will bare you strong sons, mutant sons, to worship me and reign with me. She will fight you with her dying breath, but you will bring her back to life and she will be yours body and soul. But you will be hers also. You must guard against your weakness for her. Or she will control you."
"No frail girl will ever control me." Death said arrogantly.
"Go then. And teach her who is in charge." En Sabah Nur commanded.
"She won't control me." Anger flooded through him and he rose from off her lithe young body. She felt him stir, pulling out. "It's over." she thought, breathing a silent sigh of relief. "Now he'll go, and I can die."
But as he stood up releasing her arms, a thought came to him. He would get the upper hand. He would make her want to die for his touch. He stared down at her. He would teach her who was in charge. He sat down next to her and felt her start as she realized he wasn't leaving. He smiled dangerously.
"I've done what I've been ordered to do." he said pleasantly. "And I must admit I took an awful lot of pleasure in it. Best order I've had since I got here." He grinned wickedly as she blushed. "But that doesn't mean I can't leave you with a little token o' my appreciation." Her eyes flew open at that last sentence. What was he intending? She sat up, but he pushed her back down hard against the bed. A hand reached out to massage her breast. He found her neck just below the collar with his mouth and trailed little kisses down to the base, swirling his tongue all the while in tiny circular motions. So gentle. He felt her respond and smiled to himself. He positioned himself down next to her his head resting on one arm and almost laughed out loud as he saw her physically steel herself against him. It wouldn't last. She couldn't get up. He'd only force her back down. But silently she swore she would not give into his gentleness. She tensed her body.
Death caught a nipple in his mouth and teased it to erection, suckling it softly. He ran a hand down her stomach, and just brushing her private area, swept it across her thigh. With his heightened senses he could see her relax ever so slightly. He moved his hand between her legs, sucking on her other nipple, arousing it like its twin. She kept her legs pressed tightly together, but as he stroked her wet lips with his middle finger, he felt her relax even further. He kept up his stroking for a moment or two longer and then found the clitoris. Prying open the folds of skin hiding the treasure, he went to work, teasing, stroking, demanding it to swell beneath his fingers. He felt her hips rise just an inch at the pressure he kept up. One more sign he would win.
She was weakening under his experienced touch. Waves of pleasure were engulfing her as he kept up his insistent pressure. Using his first and second finger now he swirled around her clitoris a little more swiftly, a little harder. Her hips moved again under his touch. She couldn't deny him now. The pleasure he was giving her was too great, too overwhelming. It smothered her in sensation. She knew she should stop him and her hand grabbed at his working arm. He let her reach for him, but did not let up. Continuing to stroke and tease he positioned himself part way over her body till his face was inches from hers. Gently he kissed her lips. She moaned and opened her mouth to him. It was all the encouragement he needed. His kissed her passionately, all the while fingering her clit, circling and circling her to climax.
"You're liking this, aren't you?" he asked. It was more of a command than a question. She said nothing. "Tell me ya like what I'm doing to ya." he demanded. She couldn't help herself at this point. Her mind told her not to give in, to stop him, but her body refused to listen. Wave after wave of enjoyment wrapped around her. She couldn't tell where it would end. "Yes." she whispered through clenched teeth. "Tell me what you want me to keep doing." He kept it up, knowing she would answer him. "You don't want me to stop, do you?" he threatened, pulling his hand away slightly. "NO" she almost screamed.
"Then tell me what I want to hear." he insisted.
"Keep touching me. Don't stop."
He laughed. "Good enough." He kissed her again and brought her to climax. She let out a long low sigh as sensation took over, wave after wave of pleasure shooting up through her brain. Over and over it came, again and again. One orgasm after another. "Oh God." she whispered. "Oh God, I never knew." Death slowed his pace, stroking gently as he saw she was spent. He felt the sticky warmth of her and smiled. She was his to control. He smiled again as he watched her trying not to stretch, trying not to languish in the feelings left behind by his strokes. He bent to kiss her again, expecting her to open up to him willingly.
"Haven't you done enough?" she asked, looking up at him. "You've won. Can't you just leave me alone now?" The words hit him like a slap in the face. Still defiant. Even after all the pleasure he had just given her.
"I'll leave when I damn well please!" He spoke harshly, and bending down he bit one of her nipples sharply. Tears well up in her eyes. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't. He was going to take her again. He was going to stay all night. Raping her again and again. She couldn't bare it. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She couldn't stop them, so she twisted her head back and toward the wall, hoping he wouldn't see. She cried softly stifling sobs with her hand.
Death continued to bite her nipples, one then the other, caressing the breasts savagely, giving no mercy. He would take her again and again. Until she was broken. Every defiant word expunged from her. She would call him Master. And then....maybe then he'd be gentle with her. So intent on breaking her he neither heard nor saw her crying. It wasn't until the moment he was ready to enter her that he looked at her face and saw the silent tears flowing across her cheeks. A feeling of remorse and then one of protection came over him. And then astonishment at his undoing. "Not that." he thought. "Anything but tears." He rolled off her and got to his feet. If she had only tried to fight him off again. But he couldn't prevail against her tears. He snarled at her as she turned her body to the wall. He could tell by her posture that she didn't want him to see her cry. And he knew that he had hurt her more than any "training session" that had been or would be. He had taken everything from her. Even her pride. She had nothing left but her tears. A pang of guilt went through him and he growled. He would not feel this guilt. He may burn in Hell for what he had done to her, but he wouldn't feel remorse. He was a killer. Killer's never regret. He grabbed at his clothing and stalked to the door. Over his shoulder he said, "I'll take you down tomorrow and the next day. I will always beat you." But with his retreat he knew she had won this battle. But not the war. Never the war.
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