Part Four
The X-Men are the property of Marvel Comics and are used here without their
permission.
Rated NC-17 for graphic sexual content, both consensual and non-consensual, as
well as for violence and offensive language. If you are under the legal age for
this sort of thing, then GET OUT!
Her skin was almost uniformly blue when she came back in, and the bleeding had
mostly stopped, though she continued to carry the stained shirt.
"C'mere, girl," he ordered as she closed the door behind her. She trembled as
she approached the giant lying on her bed. He propped himself up on one elbow to
watch her. His long blond hair was like a mane about his head and shoulders. If
his smile had been less cruel, and his eyes less dangerous, he would have been
attractive. Instead, he was only terrifying.
As if he could read her mind, his smile grew, exposing the enormous sharp
canines which had left such deep marks on her body. She froze and he raised one
eyebrow, lifting his head to look at her more directly.
She managed to take one more step, but her legs refused to support her any
longer. She collapsed, knowing that he would kill her for her disobedience. She
only hoped that he would finish her quickly.
He laughed and reached for her, catching one wrist in his huge hand.
"Poor little bird," he said almost tenderly as he dragged her limp form into the
bed with him. "Scared out of yer wits, ain't ya? An near frozen, too." He pulled
her against him, his arms encircling her body. She whimpered and he caressed her
gently. The heat of his body against her was like a furnace, welcome yet
frightening. She began to shiver. If anything, she was more frightened by his
apparent concern for her.
He opened his shirt and her breath caught in her throat. Would he rape her again
so soon? But then, he pulled his arms from the sleeves of the shirt, and his
muscles rippled under her hands where she had instinctively flattened them
against his chest. He covered her with the shirt, then pulled her rabbit skin
blanket over them both before pulling her against him once more.
She cried in pain and confusion as the man who had just raped her so brutally
held her and comforted her.
His nostrils flared as the girl quieted in his arms, savoring the scent of her
fear. He kissed her damaged eyelid, then licked his lips to capture the faint
taste of her blood.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to track down the runt. He'd take the girl with
him, both as entertainment and bait. He'd let her believe that he would free her
when he found the obstinate little man, then he would rip out her belly while
Logan watched. He'd leave her to bleed to death in the snow simply because the
uncooperative mutant had touched her. He grinned in the darkness of the cabin,
his eyes reflecting the faint light of the fire like an enormous cat.
He sensed the sunrise, within the windowless cabin, in the fashion of predators
since time began. He bent over the motionless woman in his arms.
"Wake up, little mouse," he whispered in her ear. "Time fer yer next lesson."
She stirred and made a tiny noise of pain. The sound made his throbbing manhood
twitch.
He slowly slipped his shirt off her shoulder and bent to kiss her throat just
below her ear. She stiffened in his arms, awake and terrified.
"Shhh," he breathed in her ear. "It can be easy this time." She shuddered as he
continued to kiss her, his lips and tongue hot against the flesh of her throat
and shoulder. He had removed his boots the night before and now he easily
removed his pants.
Her arms were across her breasts, her small hands fisted near her shoulders. He
gently took her fists in his hands, engulfing them completely, and slowly
uncrossed her arms. He continued to kiss her, his lips and tongue stroking her
breasts and nipples, as he worked his thumbs under her fingers, forcing her
hands open.
He kissed each palm lingeringly, stroking them lightly with his tongue, then
interlaced his fingers with hers. He eased her thighs apart, careful with her
bruised flesh. He entered her slowly, pausing when she cried out in pain.
"Relax, girl. It doesn't hafta hurt." He waited while she slowly forced her body
to relax, accepting his entry more readily. He released her hands and kept his
weight on his forearms, allowing her to breath.
"That's better," he said. "I told ya, it can be easy this time. You might even
enjoy it."
She reached up and put her hands on his back as he thrust into her once more.
She bit her lip to keep from crying out again. He had done so much damage to her
body that the touch of the gentlest lover would have hurt. And this man was far
from gentle.
He expected more from her than just a lack of resistance. He wanted her to
participate, to submit to his will. She put her legs around him and he smiled
down at her.
"Yeah, girl. That's the way." His breath grew ragged and he slammed into her as
he quickly reached orgasm. He mistook her muffled cries of pain for those of
pleasure as he came in her torn body.
He lifted himself from her and got to his feet.
"Keep me happy, girl, an' ya might live through this," he said as he reached for
his clothes. She could almost taste the lie in his words.
"Get dressed," he snapped. "We're leavin'."
She opened the ammo box and drew out the threadbare jeans. She pulled them on,
hissing when the cloth caught on the cuts on her legs. She folded the
blood-stiffened tee shirt and put it inside the jeans as padding for her torn
flesh. She carefully worked the hide pants on over the denim. She had a feeling
it would be some time before she saw shelter again, and she would need extra
protection from the cold. The hide shirt was next.
She was stiffly lacing her rabbit skin boots when the blonde giant handed her
one leg of the rabbit she had cooked the night before.
"Here," he said. "Pack any food ya've got stashed and grab yer water skin. I'll
be back in a minute." He smiled at her coldly. "Don't keep me waitin'."
She moved as quickly as she could, wrapping the smoked venison in a piece of
hide. She snatched a bite of the rabbit he had give her, praying that she had
not misunderstood. She slung the water skin around her neck, putting one arm
through the strap.
She was buttoning her coat when she heard the roar of a snowmobile. She grabbed
the packet of meat, her hat and her mittens and stepped outside the door.
"Yer keepin' me happy so far," he said as he pulled the vehicle to a stop by the
cabin. "Get on." She pulled her hat on as she climbed painfully onto the
snowmobile behind him. She fumbled with her mittens as he started off in the
direction Logan had taken four days before.
After traveling for several hours, the giant stopped the snowmobile. The girl
shifted her aching body on the seat and he glared at her over his shoulder. She
froze.
He reached down and grabbed the microphone of the two-way radio mounted on the
machine and spoke into it.
"Creed here," he snapped. She shuddered at the sound of his name, though she had
guessed this was the man Logan had mentioned.
He was answered by a burst of static, interspersed with garbled words.
"No, I haven't caught him yet. But I've got somethin' that guarantees he'll come
back." There was more static, and the girl was too tired to try to figure out
what was being said.
"Look, just scramble the chopper, OK? I need ta refuel," he interrupted. More
static. "You've got a locater on this damn thing. Use it." He shut the radio off
without waiting for a reply.
He started the snowmobile and continued following Logan's trail. About an hour
later a shadow flashed over them. The noise of the snowmobile had masked the
sound of the approaching helicopter. It hovered for a moment, some distance
ahead of them, then quickly sank behind the trees. Creed turned the snowmobile
toward where the chopper had landed.
Two men were unloading fuel and supplies from the chopper, while two others were
setting up a tent. Creed pulled the snowmobile up next to the chopper and got
off, gesturing for the girl to follow him.
"So, where's the target?" one of the men asked as he took another can of fuel
from the man inside the chopper. The other two men finished with the tent and
started setting up a second.
"Tracks 're about a day old," Creed said. "Should be able ta catch 'im in the
morning."
"Good. The Doc's gettin' twitchy." The man looked at the girl, where she leaned
against the snowmobile. She was barely able to stand. "That yer 'guarantee'?"
"Yeah," Creed laughed. "You know how protective good ol' Logan gets about his
lady friends. Especially after he's fucked 'em." He put his arm around the man's
shoulders. "Get my stuff set up in that tent," he ordered. "I've got some ...
business ... to conduct."
"Will do." Creed slapped the man on the shoulder and strode away, toward the
growing pile of supply boxes on the ground. He found the one he wanted and tore
it open. The other man glanced once more at the girl, and went back to unloading
the chopper.
She straightened up with difficulty and moved closer to the helicopter. When she
reached it, she put out one hand to support herself against the machine.
"Please," she said, barely a whisper. "Help me." The man on the ground looked at
her for a moment.
"Against Creed? Not even if you were my baby sister, doll. Sorry." He turned
away from her and took another box from the stack in the doorway. The man inside
the machine never even looked at her.
"C'mere, girl," Creed snarled suddenly. She cringed, but obeyed. He grabbed her
by the front of her coat, lifting her feet from the ground, and held her so that
their faces were inches apart.
"Don't try ta subvert the troops, frail. They know that if they cross me, I'll
rip their lungs out. Understand?" She nodded weakly. He released her and she
landed in a heap at his feet.
He took a beer from the box he had opened, pulled the tab and took a long pull
from the can. He grabbed the box and carried it to the tent he had commandeered.
The girl continued to lay in the snow where she had fallen.
"Get yer skinny butt over here, girl," he growled. Near the end of her strength,
she slowly got to her feet and followed him into the tent. It was big enough for
him to stand upright and he put the box filled with beer near the back wall. She
stood near the entrance until the two men who had pitched the tent shoved her
aside to bring the supplies inside. She sank to her knees, too tired to stand
any longer. Silent tears began to trickle down her cheeks.
"Where do ya want this, boss?" One of the men asked Creed.
"Right there'll do fine." The man unrolled a large piece of plastic and
connected a small air compressor to it. A cable ran out through the tent flap.
He turned the compressor on and began to inflate what quickly became apparent
was a mattress. The other man returned with a large collapsible chair and table,
which Creed immediately put to use.
Soon, the tent was completely furnished, including a small heater to warm the
air to more comfortable levels, an electric light, and bedding for the mattress.
The girl hadn't moved. The sounds of the other men gradually quieted as they
finished unloading the chopper and retired to their tent.
"There's rations in that case, girl. Get some started then come here." She
unbuttoned her coat and put it on the floor of the tent, out of the way. She
painfully got to her feet and went to the case Creed had indicated. She picked a
package at random and, reading the directions, set up the self-heating meal. The
box said something about serving six, but she didn't pay any attention to it.
Creed sat in the only chair and watched her. He opened and drank another beer
before speaking.
"Take yer clothes off," he ordered.
"Please don't hurt me any more," she pleaded, her tears falling once more.
"Do what yer told." She reached for the fastenings on her shirt and discovered
that she still carried the water skin. She swallowed convulsively as she became
aware of the dryness of her mouth and throat. She glanced at Creed, but didn't
think it wise to ask for a drink. Or anything to eat. Or mercy. She nearly
sobbed as she put the water skin on the table next to his hand. He caught her
wrist and she gasped as he pulled her to him.
"There's somethin' about you, girlie. Makes me wanna fuck yer brains out," he
said quietly into her ear. She whimpered as he pulled her into his lap and began
to kiss her, his mouth tasting of beer. He held her head with one hand and
caressed her body with the other, stroking her breasts through the hide shirt
she wore. He released her for a moment and reached into the box next to his
chair, getting another beer. He kissed her again as he opened the beer, though
he wasn't as rough as the night before. He actually seemed to be making an
effort not to hurt her ... too much.
He held the open can of beer to her mouth.
"Drink," he ordered. "You've lost a lot o' blood, an' I need ya alive until I
catch the runt." He eyes slid down over her body, "an' maybe fer a while after.
Least 'til I get tired of ya." She swallowed the strong tasting brew as he
poured it into her mouth, nearly choking before he allowed her a breath. He
licked her lips, catching the fluid which had escaped, smiling cruelly as she
trembled.
The alcohol hit her empty stomach and went straight into her blood stream.
Combined with the warmth of his body against hers, and the unexpected gentleness
of his touch, she was suddenly dizzy and confused. He continued to caress her
and kiss her and pour more beer into her parched mouth until she began to moan
with pleasure at his touch. He grinned.
"Cheap drunk, huh doll?" he asked as he opened another can. She reached up and
carefully ran her fingers through his hair.
"Its so soft," she whispered. He caught her hand and brought her wrist to his
mouth, biting her gently. She gasped and threw her head back, arching her body
into his. He laughed and stood, with her in his arms, and turned to the bed. He
gave her the rest of the beer as he began to undress her.
He opened her shirt and eased it off her shoulders. Her eyes lids were heavy and
her eyes didn't focus on him. He kissed her and she closed her eyes, smiling and
putting her arms around his neck. He ran his hands across her body, loosening
the drawstring on her pants. He was surprised at how welcoming she seemed. He'd
hurt her and she should be afraid of his touch. But she wasn't.
In his younger, and more restricted, days, he'd occasionally gotten a woman
drunk so he could fuck her, but even drunk they were afraid of him when he'd
hurt them. But not this one. What was the matter with this bitch?
He pushed the hide pants off her body, revealing her blood-soaked jeans. He
peeled them off her and was oddly relieved to find that the bleeding had
stopped.
As he caressed her, he noticed just how very thin and ... frail she really was.
He knew he'd have to be more careful it he wanted to keep her alive.
He frowned when he realized that he did want her alive. And not just to torment
the runt, either. He ... needed her. The thought of needing someone made him
angry, and he twisted the girl's arm, but when she whimpered he released her
instantly. There wasn't any pleasure in hurting her.
She reached up and stroked his cheek.
"Poor Mr. Creed," she whispered. "Why are you so angry?"
"'Cause you ain't scared o' me now. An' ya should be."
"Do you want me to be afraid?" she asked, focusing on his eyes with difficulty.
"Yes! ... No ... I don't know," he answered as he bent to kiss her again. She
opened her mouth to him and caressed his tongue with her own. He slipped one arm
beneath her and pulled her up to him, her body small and fragile in his embrace.
He slid the other hand down her back and across her hip, coming to rest at her
knee, which she obligingly raised and pressed against his side. Her arms were
around his neck, her hands stroking his wild blonde hair.
He lowered her to the mattress once more and, standing, began to remove his
clothes. She watched with drooping eyelids until he stood before her, naked and
obviously aroused. She held her arms up to him and he moved into them without
hesitation, reveling in the intense sensation of her bare skin against his.
The blonde giant shifted his body atop hers and she willingly spread her legs
for him. She knew there would be pain, but she hoped there would be pleasure as
well. He didn't seem to want to hurt her any longer, though the carnal lust
couldn't be denied.
He eased into her, trying not to hurt her, though he didn't know why. She was
tight, and wet, despite the damage he had done to her only the night before. She
cried out once, just as he completely buried himself within her, and he withdrew
slightly. She wrapped her legs around him, her hands on his back. Because of his
height they could not kiss while he remained in her, but her mouth sought the
taste of his skin wherever she could find it, her lips and tongue stroking his
throat and shoulder as he began to move carefully in and out of her.
He generally didn't care about his partner's satisfaction during sex, but he
found that he wanted to hear his name on her lips as she cried out in pleasure.
As he worked toward that goal, he found his own climax building, the pressure in
his balls increasing until he was ready to scream.
"Oh!" she murmured, lifting her hips to meet his thrusting. "Oh ... Mister ...
Creed ... Oh!"
"Ah!" he groaned as he began to cum in her. "Victor! Call me Victor!"
"Oh, yes, Victor!" she cried, encouraging him ever deeper with her heels. "Oh,
god!" she moaned as he filled her to overflowing, his huge cock driving into
her, forcing her down into the mattress so hard she could feel the cold ground
beneath it. She could feel his hot sperm burning its way into her belly as her
orgasm continued. His muscles spasmed under her hands as he shuddered to
completion.
He stayed on her, and in her, for a long moment after they were finished, both
of them gasping for air, their hearts racing. At last, he rolled off of her,
pulling her against his side as he lay on his back.
"You still gonna feel this way when ya ain't drunk?" he asked her.
"I don't know," she answered sleepily. "Will you?"
"I ain't drunk, frail," he said, but she didn't hear him. She slept in the curve
of his arm. He suddenly realized that he didn't know her name. And that he
wanted to. "I ain't drunk," he said to himself. "But I might just have lost my
mind."
