The Savage Heart by Bobbi Todd bobbitodd@hotmail.com Part Three 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! If you like it, let me know, and I'll put up the next part. "Huh, huh, huh," she gasped. The terror which gripped her heart as she looked up at the man seemed to have robbed her of the power of speech. "What's the matter, frail? Cat got yer tongue?" His eyes glinted with amusement at a joke she didn't understand. "He ... l..l..left," she stammered. "Well, at least ya got sense enough not ta try ta lie to me," he said, pulling her hat off with his free hand. He dropped it on the floor and stroked her cheek. "I can smell him all over the place." He raised one eyebrow. "And all over you. You his latest conquest, darlin'?" he asked, mocking Logan with his use of the pet name. "Please," she whispered desperately as she reached up and began to unbutton her coat. "Please don't hurt me." His eyes narrowed at her motion, but there was no way this scrawny, underfed female could be a threat to him. She shrugged out of the coat without moving away from the wall. Creed caught a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. "How long's he been gone?" he asked, unconsciously bringing the hair closer to his face, inhaling her scent like a drug. "Three days." She began to fumble with the fastenings of her shirt, exposing her breasts to his view, hoping that her willingness would protect her. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "Please, I'll do whatever you want. I don't want to be raped again." "Again?" He stared at her with genuine surprise, seeing the bruise on her jaw for the first time. He tilted her chin up to get a better look. "Logan did this?" The disbelief was clear in his voice. "Logan raped you? Little guy, dark hair, claws?" "He ... held me down," she said, showing him the bruises on her wrists. "I bit him, and he hit me. Then he cut me. I didn't fight him after that." She told him the literal truth. Creed ran an incredulous finger along the cut on her breast. Then he laughed, the sound chilling her blood. "I'll be damned! I didn't think the runt had it in him. But he's sure as hell had it in you, hasn't he! Ha!" he laughed heartily. "Guess I'll hafta show you what a real man feels like, won't I frail?" He reached into her open shirt and cupped her breast in his huge hand. He grasped more of her hair, pulling her up to meet his sharp-toothed mouth. Her toes barely touched the floor as he kissed her brutally, his hand bruising her breast. He abruptly released her and she nearly fell. He turned and sprawled casually on her bed. She clutched her shirt. This man wasn't like Logan. He'd probably have raped her even if she wasn't irresistible. "Leave it open. I like the view." She dropped her hand, but stayed against the wall, afraid to move. "When's he comin' back?" She shook her head. "I don't think he is." "Too bad. I was gonna arrange a surprise for 'im," his eyes roamed her body, making her think unpleasantly that the 'surprise' involved her. "You gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna fix those damn rabbits. I'm gettin' hungry," he announced from his position on her bed. His eyes were hard. She was afraid to look down, certain that his eyes weren't all that was hard. She wondered how long he'd wait. She stumbled when she moved away from the support of the wall. She picked up the rabbits without even glancing at the door. She had no doubt that he could catch her. And that he probably wanted her to try to run. She picked up the broken hatchet, but dropped it instantly, cowering, when he snarled. "What do ya think yer doin', bitch?" He stood, glaring down at her, his mouth twitching in amusement. He knew the hatchet was no threat. "I ... I need ... to clean ... the rabbits," her voice was barely audible. He reached down and snatched the rabbits from her hand. He tore the head off of one. He yanked the skin from its body like the skin from a bologna, then ripped its belly open with the claws he extended from his fingertips, pulling it guts out. He dropped the cleaned carcass in front of her where she knelt, shivering in terror on the floor. He quickly repeated the process with the second rabbit. He resumed his position on the bed as if he hadn't moved. She put the two rabbits on the grate, then gathered the heads, skins, and offal and put them aside. She would take care of it later. If she had a later. "Come here," he ordered. She cringed, but obeyed. "Lose the pants." She slipped the boots off, then slid the pants down over her narrow hips. She stood before him, wearing only the open shirt, with her eyes downcast. "Look at me, girlie. I wanna see what's goin' on in yer head." She met his eyes with difficulty. The smoldering lust she saw there frightened her. He saw only fear. He smiled. She was delicious. "Now lose the shirt." She dropped it obediently, standing before him completely bare, unconsciously mimicking the position of a slave girl on the auction block. Her head was turned away from him, and her eyes dropped again, unable to keep his gaze. She stood with one knee bent, her hands at her sides, awaiting his command. 'Please,' she wanted to beg. 'Can't you see that I'll do whatever you want? Please don't hurt me.' "Come here," he said again, patting the bed with one hand. She moved to kneel beside him, but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her down, so that she lay half across him, her bare breasts against his chest. "You said you'd do anything I want, as long as I don't rape you, right?" She nodded, her throat too tight to permit speech. "What if I told you," he whispered harshly into her ear, "that I like rape." She moaned in terror as he took her other wrist in his enormous claw-tipped hand and pushed her to her back in the center of the bed. He held her arms over her head. She was too frightened to resist. He reached down and unfastened his pants with his other hand, freeing his massive organ. He stroked it twice, and she shivered as a large drop of fluid appeared at its tip. He extended his claws and drew them lightly across her belly. Each razor sharp weapon left a trail of blood in its wake. She cried out and tried to pull away from him, trying to sink into the bed of grass and rabbit fur. He held her effortlessly, one hand encircling both her wrists, the other flat on her belly, smearing the blood he had drawn. His shaft was hard against her leg, the moisture leaving a slick trail where he rubbed it against her. His shear size was frightening to her. He could tear her in half with it. She trembled. He licked the blood from his hand, then lowered his mouth to lap directly from the seeping wounds. She whimpered, but ceased struggling. He snarled and moved his blood-smeared hand to her face. He rested his thumb lightly on her eyelid. "I told you, frail. I like rape. It ain't near as much fun if my victim cooperates. So you start fightin', or I'll have ta get my fun by rippin' yer eyes out." He extended the claw and, almost gently, punctured her eyelid. The blood from the tiny wound ran down her cheek like a tear. She began to struggle, turning her head away from the pressure on her eye, twisting her arms to free her wrists. He tightened his grip, grinding her bones together. She screamed and arched her back, trying to end the sudden pain in her arms. He put his mouth to her breast, sucking and biting while she kicked and twisted her body. He laughed as he mounted her, crushing her beneath him. He used his booted feet to force her ankles apart, making it easier for him to ram his knee between her thighs. She cried out in pain as his heavy boots bruised and cut her flesh. He forced her thighs apart and rammed his way into her, tearing her as he drove his rod mercilessly into her dry opening. He dropped his full weight onto her, crushing the breath from her lungs. She kicked, to little effect, as he plunged his massive tool again and again into her body. Her struggles grew weaker as she gasped for breath. He released her wrists, but she barely had the strength to push against his shoulders as he continued to ravage her. His belt buckle cut deep into her belly, but she barely felt it. "Oh. Yeah," he groaned, driving himself into her as his balls tightened, preparing to dump their load into the soft belly of his victim. "That is ... so ... sweet ... aaarrgh!" She barely whimpered as he tore into her body, shooting his cum into her. She drew a deep shuddering breath as he withdrew from her, lifting his weight from her chest. Blood and cum dripped from his groin as he knelt between her legs. He slapped her viciously. "Get up, bitch," he snarled. "If you don't get yer ass in gear, yer gonna bleed ta death. An' I ain't finished with ya yet." He slapped her again and she moaned. "Get up!" He put his cock back in his pants and fastened them as she rolled slowly to her side, trying to get up. She had pushed herself up onto her hands by the time he was finished adjusting his clothing, but she wasn't moving fast enough to suit him. He kicked her in the hip, knocking her back down, then grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her to her feet. Blood flowed sluggishly down her legs as he threw her toward the door. She fell to her knees against the door and he pulled her up once more. "Ice an' pressure'll slow the bleedin', bitch, an' there's plenty 'o ice out there." He released her and looked around the tiny cabin as she opened the door. He spied the bloodstained tee shirt and snatched it up. He started to hand it to her, then narrowed his eyes and brought it to his nose. He laughed. "Damn all, I knew I cut that bastard up," he laughed again, shoving the shirt into her hands and pushing her through the door and into the darkness outside. She was already shivering violently in the cold. "Get the ice, babe. An' clean yerself up while yer out there. An' make it fast." He slammed the door behind her. She took a couple of steps out into the snow, away from the area where her footprints, and his, dirtied the whiteness. She stumbled and fell to her knees. She gathered handfuls of the snow and wrapped it in the shirt, then pressed the improvised ice pack against the torn flesh between her legs. She shuddered as the cold penetrated her center. Holding it in place with one hand, she painfully rubbed more snow against the cuts on her legs. She wiped the blood from her thighs and her belly, then cleaned the deep bite on her breast. Her breath hitched with suppressed sobs. She didn't understand what she had to do to please him. She'd done as he'd ordered, and he still hurt her. From the feeling of the blood continuing to flow from between her legs, he may very well have killed her. And no one would ever know. Or care. She wept, quietly at first, then with the heartbroken sound of one for whom all hope has fled. She was going to die here, alone and unloved, at the hands of the man waiting for her inside her cabin. He didn't know it, but he had already beaten her. Her spirit was broken. Creed listened to her as she cried. He grinned and, grabbing one of the rabbits off the grate, made himself comfortable on her bed and waited for her to come back in. He took a huge bite and chewed happily. He hoped she tried to run. He always enjoyed chasing down his prey.