ULTIMATE SUBMISSION

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, JUNE 10TH, 2001

She was lying back on the beach in his arms, the white sand stretching for miles in either direction, the water a translucent aquamarine which sparkled in the sun. This was the Fort Lauderdale of her memories. He held her tenderly, told her he loved her, his strong arms enclosing her, clutching her protectively to his chest He didn't have a face…he never did. He wore shade and baseball caps so she couldn't see, but it didn't matter. She knew who he was. The man of her dreams. Someday she'd find him, but until she did, she always had dreams like this to keep her going. Because he was out there somewhere, a man who loved her more than any other, a man who could keep her safe from danger, a man who put up with all her crazy ideas. He was out there and she'd find him. He had plenty of time to be found, she was in no hurry, just content to enjoy his manifestations in her subconscious. She snuggled against him, sighing languidly and he clutched her even tighter as the waves crashed gently on the shore and he whispered softly in her ear, words for her alone.

Still clutching her, he moved a little, trying to roll over and suddenly everything went black, the beach was gone, it was dark an she was in bed, in some guy's arms. He was clutching her protectively, murmuring incomprehensibly in his sleep. She let out a startled gasp when she realized it was Benoit. This never happened. They always fell asleep on their own little side of the bed, never touching. Or sometimes their bodies might end up tangled together, but it was never like this. They never held each other. Angel tried to wriggle free - his closeness was spooking her in a big way - but he held her tightly.

"No, baby," he murmured sleepily. "Stay here with me."

'Oh great,' Angel thought. 'He's dreaming. He thinks I'm his wife. Now that I really don't need.'

She decided to definitely extract herself from his grasp before he woke up and completely lost the plot over his mistake.

"I love you, baby," he was saying as she finally got free and rolled out of bed. "I love you."

"No, you don't," Angel whispered, watching him carefully in the near pitch black as he grabbed for her and found nothing. He let out a sigh and rolled over, still mumbling, until he fell into silence and a deeper sleep.

Angel let out a huge breath. So, now what? She checked the clock. Five AM. An hour until training. She and Benoit had probably only stopped screwing a couple of hours ago. She was exhausted and engulfed in the kind of pain that usually felt so good, but now it was just...well, painful. There was no point trying to go back to sleep. Even in her own room. Practice was only an hour away and if she was late again, Blackman and Trish were going to start suspecting things. Jericho still wasn't speaking to her but Blackman, ever reliable, had agreed to train with her, recognizing that now she knew how to look after herself in the ring, they probably wouldn't almost kill each other this time. They worked well together with Trish on the sidelines, playing cheerleader. It really was a good teaming. So hell, she didn't need Jericho.

She could tie Benoit up again. That had been real hot for both of them, but seeing him vulnerable and calling for his wife had really wigged her out. She didn't want to go there right now. In fact, she was the least horny she'd been since he'd first kissed her, which was strange, because he was just lying there, completely naked, completely at her mercy if she wanted to take him, give him a wake up blowjob, whatever she wanted. But she just wasn't in the mood. Instead, she tore her eyes away from him and wandered into the bathroom. She paced restlessly for a couple of minute, before caching sight of her reflection in the mirror. She stopped and turned face-on, eyeing herself critically.

'Look at you,' she thought as her brow creased. 'You're nothing but a disgusting little home-wrecking slut. He's there calling out for his wife and you carry on with him as though she doesn't even exist. You're a skank, a whore. How would you feel, huh? How would you feel if your man was cheating on you with some little nymphet from his work? How would you feel? What would you do? You'd kill her, that's what. That's what you deserve. You deserve to have Mrs. Benoit kill you. And those kids. 'What's daddy doing with that other lady?' What, indeed?

'It'd be different if you loved him. Would it? Sure, it would. If you loved him, you'd want him to leave her for you. But you don't. You just want to do him. You're content being the other woman, the homewrecking slut.

'Is it really worth it? Jericho asked you that. You told him it was. But is it, really? He's such a hot lay…is he like that with his wife, or is it just you? You know how to turn him on, how to get him hot…and he knows the same about you. Does his wife know that it's best when you take away his control, leave him helpless, so he doesn't know what to do…but don't go too far. Get him so he's angry and a little rough, but not too much? Or is he completely different with her? Does he make love to her? He doesn't make love to you. It's just sex. Incredible, mind-blowing sex, but just sex, all the same.

'Does she know him like you do? Know all his annoying little habits, know him as he is, or does he change for her, become a different man, someone he's not, possibly someone likeable? Someone even lovable? He's more intense than anyone you've ever met - driven, determined, controlling, obsessive, powerful, brutal…is that how he is with her? If so, why does she love him, assuming she loves him at all? She can't just be in it for the sex - he's away for too long if that's the case.

'He never goes home. Twice in six months and once only because they were going through his hometown anyway. Why does the wife exist? How could anyone love Benoit? And not just that. Love him so much she wanted to marry him, to spend the rest of her life with him. That's a fate worse than death. Why would anyone want that?'

She sighed deeply and shut off her thoughts. They were just too heavy for this hour of morning. She concentrated instead on her reflection. It wasn’t what she'd call a pretty sight. Her eyes were bloodshot and had bags under them so big she wouldn’t have to bother with suitcases the next few days. So she hadn’t been getting much sleep. Funny that. Her cheeks had that telltale glow of someone who was getting regularly laid, and her skin was like a freaking conservation park for hickeys. How no one who wasn’t lucky enough to catch them going at it could figure out what was happening was beyond her. But then again, most people probably thought…people who didn’t know her. Trish had thought it, so had Eddie. And Eddie had known that Benoit was married, surely. So that meant…

"Oh, God," Angel muttered. "Eddie was right to be pissed off with me and Benoit. I am a putacita."

She shook her head at herself, her fists pushing down on the counter.

"Dirty, disgusting, enorme puta."

Then she lifted her gaze. He was standing behind her, his eyes locked on hers in the mirror. She couldn’t hide her fear from him anymore and her breathing came in short gasps as heat radiated throughout her entire body from the inside out.

"Control yourself, slut," he mind screamed. "He’s not even good looking. You can resist him. Just open your mouth and tell him no."

She turned slowly, keeping her eyes locked on his and her hands tightly gripping the edge of the counter. She refused to look away because…if he was as turned on as she was…before they’d even touched…she wouldn’t know what to do. She wouldn’t be able to say no. He approached her, eyes dark with lust and she leaned back, not wanting him on her. He didn’t belong to her. She didn’t want to be this person, this slut, who screwed other people’s husbands…in beds, against walls, on floors, in bathrooms, cars, locker rooms, janitor’s closets…anywhere, anytime. She didn’t want to be this revolting little whore. Not anymore. She couldn’t fix what she’d done but she could stop it from happening again. Her back hit the counter as she tried to escape him, to give her a bit of extra time to work out what to say, what to do. His eyes had her trapped, dark blue and intense. And still he approached her and she crawled backwards, climbing onto the counter, her breathing ragged. And then he reached out and firmly grabbed her by the ass.

‘Stop him!’ screamed her mind. ‘You have to stop him.’

He kept one hand on her ass and his eyes on hers as his other hand ran along her thigh, his fingers curling inside.

"Stop!" she cried, slamming her hand down on his and tearing it away.

He didn’t even pause. He simply broke into a smirk and jumped on her. His whole body was moving on hers as he kissed her savagely and grabbed her breasts, her ass, the back of her head, holding her to him. Angel’s arms had flailed out but she knew what he was doing. He was testing her. The bastard was always testing her. She wasn’t going to do this anymore. Because she wasn’t a slut, not really. She was just…just… He was moaning softly, right into her mouth as his hands worked and his tongue worked on different parts of her body in perfect coordination. Damn him…damn him to hell. And then he pressed his hands against the counter, pushing his body up, separating it from hers.

"You want me to stop, princess?" he panted, eyebrows raised and a mean glint in his eyes. "Fine. We’ll stop."

He began to slide off the counter, away from her as Angel gasped for air, her face degenerating into a scowl. She couldn’t take it. It was so cold in the bathroom, crisply cold, and he was so hot…so damn hot…why…why?

"I hate you," she growled, grabbing at him, pulling him down, and wrapping her body around his, moving against him, tearing at his neck with her mouth. "I hate you."

Where was her brain now? It too had given up the fight and now it screamed only one thing. "Yes, more…more…more…" He was a drug and she needed him, as much as she needed her next breath of air. She was a disgusting little whore, but she didn’t care, didn’t care at all.

* * * *

"One! Two! Three!" cried Trish joyously. She threw her arms into the air, then climbed into the ring, grabbed a surprised Steve Blackman and kissed him hard on the lips. She soon released him, smiling smugly. Blackman blinked heavily, then fixed his gaze on Angel, who was still lying on the canvas, too weary to move.

"Not your best today."

"No kidding," Angel muttered, propping herself up on her elbows. Blackman had taken only a couple of minutes to kick her ass.

"Don’t worry about it," Blackman told her, offering a hand to help her up. "We all have bad days."

But Angel couldn’t exactly use that as an excuse. It couldn’t be a bad day when it had started as hers had. Sex in the bathroom – on the counter, on the floor, her mind was gone and her body took over, and it was incredible, the best yet. Benoit just kept getting better and better, as he truly got to know her body, how to make her scream with pleasure.

"Yeah," she said solemnly, giving a cool nod as she found her feet. The only thing on her mind was getting back to the hotel room, to Benoit, give him the same wonderful frustration he’d given her before he trained for the day, make him late like he’d made her, drive all speech from his body, make him moan, make him cry. She loved going down on him, because it reduced him to helplessness, something he loved to inflict on other people. When she did it, he was hers, she owned him, whether he liked it or not. And that turned Angel on…in a big way.

"Well, I’ll see you later, Steve," she said, hoping not too hurriedly. "See you, Trish." She quickly climbed from the ring and headed for the door.

"Angel, wait! I want to talk to you." Trish was on her tail, her voice pleading. "I’ve hardly seen you all week."

Angel stopped short. That was true and surely, if she didn’t give Trish some time now, she’d be the next on the list of people who suspected things.

"Sorry," she smiled, turning back. "I’ve been pretty busy."

"That’s okay, we can talk now," Trish enthused, opening out two folding chairs and taking a seat in one.

"I’ll be out in the gym," Blackman announced, lugging his full bag of weapons past them to the door.

"Okay, Steve!" Trish cried chirpily, before turning back to Angel. "Now, Angel, I haven’t even talked to you since Chris came back. I’ve been worried about you. How are you?"

Angel nodded coolly. "I’m okay."

"Great!" Trish grinned. "So, tell me. Is he really the Man of a Thousand Holds?"

Angel’s mouth dropped open, her face pale. Stay cool, girl, stay cool. "That’s Dean Malenko," she announced.

"Oh yeah, that’s right," Trish nodded. "Okay, then. Is he really the Wolverine Machine?"

Angel swallowed, trying to stop the aching in her gut. "I…he…shit!" she moaned as her stomach started dancing all over the place and tears filled her eyes.

"Oh, sorry Angel!" Trish cried. "I was just teasing. I’m sorry!"

Angel looked up, her face stricken. "I’m just not very proud of myself right now, okay?"

Trish pouted and put a hand on Angel’s knee. "Is this because he’s married?" she asked gently.

"Oh, God!" Angel blurted, furiously wiping her eyes.

"Angel, don’t worry about it," Trish consoled her.

"I’m awful," Angel sobbed. "I’m disgusting."

"No!" Trish cried. "You’re not. I mean, look at me. I slept with Vince McMahon. Vince McMahon! I mean, I’m more or less the reason he’s getting divorced."

"I don’t want him to divorce her!" Angel spat. "I don’t love him, I just…I’m stuck, I’m trapped. I need him…I just don’t know…he makes me so hot and the sex, man, Trish, you wouldn’t believe it. Less than a week and we’ve done it all, done it everywhere, there's seriously nothing we haven't tried, but it doesn't matter, he gets me going so easily, and each time’s better than the last. I don’t know what to do. I never thought…that this was who I’d turn out to be, you know? I hate this person I am. Hate her. I’m a dirty, revolting little slut."

"You’re not a slut, Angel," Trish frowned. "If anything, he’s the slut. He’s the one screwing round on his wife."

"Oh, God!" Angel cried again.

"It’s not your fault, Angel," Trish announced, putting her hand on her friend’s chin, forcing Angel to look her in the eye. "You don’t have to feel guilty about this. It’s Chris’s choice to cheat on his wife. You’re simply having sex with the man you want to have sex with."

Angel sighed. She’d said something similar to Jericho but now, hearing it from someone else, it just sounded so trite.

"Listen, Trish," Angel sighed. "I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?" She gave a meek smile and started for the door.

"Okay, Angel," Trish mused. "But don’t beat yourself up over this. You’re a good person, I swear."

‘Right,’ Angel thought as she walked glumly away. ‘Sure I am.’

She wandered solemnly through the hotel towards her room. Her brain was heavy with conflict, but her body became more alive with every step. She knew what was waiting for her…but it might not be. He could be at training already, he was obsessive like that, but he hadn’t been in the gym when she’d walked through. She was just making excuses, trying to get herself to calm down. She knew he’d be there. He was always there. Always ready. God, he was good. She found herself walking faster and faster until she was almost running. The elevator was so slow she practically cried out in pain. Especially since, well, they hadn’t exactly screwed in an elevator, but they’d come pretty close…and more than once. Bloody Benoit. Finally, the doors opened on her floor and she raced down the hallway, flicked her keycard into the lock and threw the door open. He was standing there, completely naked, his face expressionless except for the desire blazing in his eyes.

"I’ve been thinking about your hot little body and all the things I can do to it," he said quietly. "Shut the door. Now."

She just stood there, trapped by his eyes. And then he was on her, crashing into her, slamming the door shut with their bodies. He was kissing her roughly, furiously, as his hands worked rapidly, tearing off her clothes. He discarded her tank top, her boots, her pants, her bra and she rubbed up against him, unable to control herself. Her underwear was gone and she let out a gasp at the insane relief of being naked with him again. He grabbed for her wrists and pinned them up against the door as his mouth found hers again and any resistance she had left flew completely out the window.

"Oh, yes," she moaned as he kissed and nibbled her face and neck, grinding his hips into hers. "Oh, Benoit."

"That’s it, princess," he murmured against her skin as he bent his head to kiss her breasts. "Say my name. You know how hot it gets me when you do that."

His fingers dug into her wrists, her hands. She was fighting him, trying to get her arms free, but he was too strong for her. The power of it all coursed through him, turning him on in ways only it could, getting him hotter and hotter as the little slut writhed against him, trying to fight him, trying to steal the control for herself.

"Oh Benoit!" she gasped as he tore at her flesh, each cry from her spurring him on, making him go just that little bit further, just that little bit harder. "Yes, Benoit! More! Benoit…oh, God…Benoit. Harder…oh…Benoit!"

He loved to hear her scream his name like that. He’d trained her well. She knew that if she didn’t give him what he wanted from her, she wouldn’t get what she wanted from him. The power was his. And he loved it. He was ready, whenever she was, and she sounded pretty damn urgent. But first…

"Beg me, princess," he growled, hot and low, right into her ear as he nibbled on the lobe. "I wanna hear you beg."

"Oh, Benoit," she moaned as he quickened his movements, gripping her wrists harder, tighter. "Fuck me, Benoit. Please…please…fuck me now."

He let out a psychotic laugh and slammed into her so violently it almost sent both of them over the edge. He was trying to go slow, to drive her out of her mind, to get her to beg him again, but this time it was just impossible…she was impossible. She was screaming his name, screaming it, and it was hot as fuck, he couldn’t take it. He threw her arms down, grabbing desperately for her ass and they tumbled backwards, his support which had held them against the door now gone.

Bodies still locked together, they fought for supremacy and he won, he always won, and she was screaming again. He opened his mouth to tell her what to do, to order her around, knowing she’d do it, knowing it was all he needed, that it’d end him.

"Princess, I…" he gasped, his words punctuated by his frenzied movements. "Say…I…princess…want…oh, God…princess…"

And she screamed his name, over and over, louder and louder, her voice growing sharper each time.

"Princess, I…princess, princess." And her screamed echoed in his ears, mixed with his, they sailed around the room, an entwined, seamless, euphoric, unstoppable wall of sound.

"Benoit!"

"Princess!"

And he collapsed on top of her, huffing and puffing like a damn steam train. It was unbelievable what this girl could do to him. He still didn’t know why it had started and why they kept going on, once Perry knew, once Jericho know, once the probably countless people who’d walked past when they were very loudly screwing in the janitor’s closet knew. But then it didn’t really matter who knew. That just showed them that she was his, that she’d belonged to him, just like he’d taught her. Every inch of that hot little body. She was right. He’d made it, it was his possession, to enjoy however the hell he wanted. And he enjoyed it, more than he even thought possible. All her men before…Jericho, Test, Jeff Hardy, Edge, Christian, Rhyno, Angle, Regal, Raven, Snow, Blackman…he’d show them. He was the only man who’d even been able to control her. He owned her and soon they’d all know it. They’d all know what he had, that they could never get it because it was his. He grabbed her by the hair and brought her in for a heated, possessive kiss, running his hands all over her body. That luscious little body, so firm, muscled, taut, perfect. It was Benoit’s. Always had been. Always would be.

"You’re mine," he murmured against her lips, just in case she still had some doubt. "You belong to me."

"I know," she whispered as his mouth trailed skillfully down her neck, down her body. "I know I do."

He started moving his hands, his rough fingers firm but gentle, rubbing her, stroking her.

Benoit spoke, his low voice vibrating against her skin, making it tingle, making it come alive.

"All this…it’s all mine. These breasts, they’re mine, these nipples, mine, these ribs, this stomach. It’s all mine, princess, all mine."

Angel moaned softly, her breathing becoming shallower and shallower as he worked his magic, with his mouth, with his fingers.

"I own this belly button, these hips, this ass. This ass is mine. It’s mine. It’s all mine."

"Oh, Benoit!" she gasped as he stopped talking. "Oh, oh, oh yes, yes!"

It roared into her over and over again, pulsating, building, so intense, so wonderful. It engulfed her, took her over. She had no control over anything. She was screaming and probably thrashing about. She didn’t know, didn’t care. And still it kept going as he pushed her over, a million times, more. And then, just as he had her hurtling through the air again, teetering on the edge…he stopped, completely still, his hands moving onto her hips, holding her there. He picked her up easily, held her protectively against him.

"Come on. It’s payback time."

Angel whimpered as she felt herself being carried along. What the hell did he mean by that? Why had he stopped right when…when she was so close?

"No, no, no," she moaned. "Please, please, more."

He let out an evil laugh as he brought his hand down on her ass and grabbed it roughly.

"Patience, princess," he mocked. "Never was one of your strong suits." Then he chuckled again and threw her, face first, onto the bed.

She tried to roll over onto her back but he had her pinned as he wrenched her arms around, Angel heard a click and then another before he pushed her roughly down. She tried to move her arms but found she couldn’t. She was trapped. The cuffs. He had the cuffs on her.

He grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her head around, kissing her violently, ravaging her mouth with his tongue. She tried to move, twisting, desperate to slip the cuffs. And then she felt something pressing into the back of her neck as he tore his mouth away from hers.

"Don’t move," he growled hotly. "I have your knife and I will cut you."

"What?" Angel cried, realizing with a jolt of fear that it was the cold steel of her knife on her neck. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Whatever I want," he replied coolly, climbing off her.

The cool air in the room washed over her, making her crave the feel of him, the weight of him. And her apprehension was, strangely, only magnifying her lust.

"Benoit?"

"Relax." His voice filled her ears. "I’m still here."

"What are you doing?" Angel asked, more urgently than she’d intended. She started to swivel her head to take a look, but he was on her in a flash, pressing the knife against her neck again.

"I told you not to move," he growled, pushing her down again. "Next time we draw blood."

Angel gasped. She’d never really thought about what might happen if Benoit got a hold of her weapons. He didn’t need them. He was strong enough without them but with them? But what worried her more was how turned on she still was, more so than before, if that was even possible. That just wasn’t right. But she couldn’t deny it, anymore than she could deny the fact that he wanted to hurt her, to take her down, just like always. She longed to know what he was going to try first, how he was going to inflict pain, because that was what he would do, what he’d always intended doing.

His voice cut through the air, with that mocking tone he used when he was talking to his most hated opponents.

"You see, little girl, I found your toys. And I must say, I was very impressed by your collection. Very impressed. So, what I thought was, why should you be the only one who gets to play? What if I want to play too, huh? What then? So, now we’re gonna play together. You and me. Does that sound like fun? And you’re just gonna lie there and enjoy the game. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have fun too. Now, what first? Do you have a favorite toy or do you want me to choose?"

Angel started squirming, desperate to see him, to see what he was doing.

"Don’t move!" he roared and she froze. Kinky sex was one thing but she really, really didn’t want him to cut her. So she stayed perfectly still, hoping he’d give her one last chance. He did, digging in the bag again. "How about this, eh? This looks like fun, doesn’t it? Don’t move!"

"Okay!" Angel cried.

Benoit nodded coolly. "Yes, I think you’ll like this a lot. Listen."

There was the distinct slap of leather on flesh. Angel now knew what he had. Her belt. He gave another little laugh as she heard him approaching.

"Are you ready, princess? I think this’ll make you real hot."

Slap! Angel cried out as the leather crashed across her flesh. She started whimpering as the pain roared through her, mixing with her desire and the unsatisfied aching from when he’d stopped before.

"How about it, princess?" Benoit asked. He was everywhere, his voice and breath hot in her ear now, but still he didn’t touch her. "You want some more?"

Angel didn’t know what to do. She shouldn’t be enjoying this, it was just too wrong.

"I…I…"

Slap! "More?"

Angel had never really been into S&M before…especially not taking it. So why now?

Slap! "More?"

"Yes!"

Benoit broke into a smirk and slammed the belt down again, nodding his satisfaction to see her writhing there, completely helpless.

"More, Benoit, please."

"Harder?" Benoit asked shortly, trying to disguise how much this was turning him on. He was just seconds away from jumping on her and taking her, then and there.

"Yes. Harder. Please…more!"

Slap! Slap! Slap!

"Oh," Angel groaned. "Oh, that’s so good, so good…"

It was all too much for Benoit. He had to have her. He had to have her now.

"Okay, princess," he growled lustfully, reaching out and gently massaging her now very red backside. "Game’s over. Now we fuck."

"Okay," Angel moaned. "Just…just…now…please, now."

Benoit nodded rapidly. He couldn’t resist her when she begged, there was no way. She’d given him exactly what he’d wanted from her – fear, submissiveness. And now, well, now he was giving her what she wanted. She deserved it. She deserved everything.

* * * *

Angel sighed and opened her eyes. She didn’t even remember falling asleep, but the last time, that had been so damn intense. She was pretty ashamed of herself, actually, for reacting as she had. He didn’t treat her good, that was for sure. He never held her, never kissed her tenderly, never told her she was beautiful. She was just a hot, sexy little slut whore. A piece of ass that belonged to him and so he’d take it, whenever he wanted it. Did he treat his wife like that? Show up at home with a new hockey stick for the kids, then screw his wife like she was a hooker he chose to keep so she’d be ready whenever he wanted to take her? She was awfully convenient, stuck up in Canada while he screwed around on her with his valet. One at home, one on the road. He really had it all. And right now he hand one clamped on Angel’s breast and the other on the inside of her thigh. She unhooked his fingers and rolled out of his grasp. Son of a bitch. He didn’t even deserve one woman who’d cater to his every whim, much less two.

"You disgust me," she whispered, glaring down at his peacefully sleeping form. "I disgust me. Belts and cuffs and knives are for Springer guests. I used to be normal. What the hell happened?"

She had to get out. Somewhere she didn’t have to see him. Somewhere she could think without fear of him grabbing her, jumping on her, spanking her…damn, that had been hot. No, not hot. Disgusting, wrong, revolting. Without even a second thought, she pulled on her clothes and left the room.

She walked stiffly through the hallway, grateful to her core that she and Benoit had a suite. Most superstars had singles or doubles. In fact, the only other people who had a suite on this floor were the X-Factor, and they were probably too busy doing, well, what Benoit and Angel were doing to even notice that anyone else existed.

She walked in a daze, in a fog. It was so hard to talk to people now and she had been avoiding Lita and the Hardyz like the plague in case she burst into tears like she had with Trish and spilled the whole story. They’d be so ashamed of her. She was ashamed of herself.

Before she even knew what she was doing she was knocking on his door. She knew where his room was – Benoit always found that out first. The door opened and there he stood, eyeing her skeptically.

"Hey," Angel said quietly.

He gave her a nod, nothing more.

"I miss you," she went on.

His eyebrows shot up. "I’m surprised you have time, what with all the great sex you’re having with your live-in lover."

Angel’s face fell and she slowly shook her head. "Forget it. I guess I’ll see you later. Or not. Whatever." She turned and started walking away.

"Baby, wait. I miss you too. Do you want to come in?"

Angel stopped and spun to face him, nodding slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Okay then. Come in."

Angel followed him into the room and waited for the door to close before she really looked at him.

"So," he said coolly. "What’s going on?"

She stared at him and then her face crumpled and her eyes filled with tears as she flung her arms around him.

"You were right," she sobbed as his arms slowly encircled her. "You were right. Argh! Don’t touch me. Please, don’t…"

Jericho drew back with a shocked frown. "What did he do to you, baby? Did he hurt you?"

"Yes, but…" Angel took a deep breath. "I wanted him to. It was so good…so good. I couldn’t stop him, couldn’t say no. I can’t ever say no. He does what he wants to me and I let him because it’s so good. I’m awful, Jerky, awful. I’m a disgusting little slut, just like you said. I’m this terrible little whore who’s into rough sex and bondage, it’s almost like the kinkier the better. And it’s just wrong and I know it. I’m this revolting nymphet skank who screws other people’s husbands without caring how his wife would feel if she knew. I’d much rather pretend that she doesn’t exist, that he’s…that he’s…" She broke off into a series of loud sobs.

"Oh no," Jericho said quietly. "No, no, baby."

"What?" Angel whispered.

"You’ve fallen for him."

"What?" Angel cried. "No I haven’t."

"You have," Jericho replied slowly. "You were about to say you’d rather pretend that he’s yours. You’re in love with him."

"No, I wasn’t and no I’m not," Angel insisted, a disgusted frown on her face.

"You want him to love you the way you love him," Jericho went on. "That’s why you do whatever he says. That’s why you’re suddenly thinking about how his wife must feel. All of a sudden, you know what it’s like to be her, what it’s like to be in love with Chris Benoit."

"No," Angel hissed, eyes wide. "That’s not true. I just keep wondering if he’s as rough with her as he is with me. Because, if he is, that’s terrible. He’s supposed to love her, you know. That’s what I was thinking, that’s all."

"Okay, baby," Jericho mused. "So why are you crying?"

Angel scowled and wiped away her tears. "Because he spanked me with a damn leather belt and now my ass hurts like a bastard, okay?"

Jericho slowly shook his head. "We have to get you out of there. This has to stop."

Angel paused and looked up, her eyes filled with tears. "Okay."

Jericho was taken aback. "You want to leave?"

"Yes," Angel nodded. "I want to be myself again. I don’t even know who I am anymore, other than a hideous little slut, and that’s not me. I wanna be me again. I wanna be me."

"Alright," Jericho told her. "Here’s how it is. I can’t afford to piss Benoit off. We have the belts and I want to keep them. That means I need him. So I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to do this and you’re gonna have to do it alone. What I need you to do is go to your room, get all your stuff and then come back. You can sleep in here tonight. I know, it doesn’t sound like much, but if you can do it, you’ll be the strongest person I know."

Angel nodded coolly. "Okay. I’ll be back soon. Okay." She hugged him tightly, crying out again at the pain.

"Good luck, baby," Jericho murmured as she left the room and closed the door. "I think you’re gonna need it."

* * * *

As soon as Angel set foot in the suite again she could hear the TV blaring with Tazz and Michael Cole’s voices. Heat must be on. Good. Maybe that’d keep Benoit’s attention long enough for her to grab what she had to grab and get the hell out. No such luck.

"Where the hell have you been?"

She tore her eyes away from his and kept walking. Maybe if she pretended he wasn’t there… Not easy with the heat roaring through her body in all directions.

"I said, where the hell have you been?"

He was right in front of her now, staring at her, staring right through her. She lowered her head and tried to walk around him.

"Look and me when I’m talking to you!" he shouted, grabbing her by the jaw and locking his gaze on hers. "Now, answer my question."

Angel broke into a scowl and slapped him across the face.

For a second he was startled, but then he broke into that evil smirk that drove her so wild. "So you want to play that game? Well, that’s fine with me, princess. Fine with me."

He brought his face towards hers and she kissed him hungrily, eagerly, as her fingers dug into the back of his head, tearing at his hair. He plunged his hand up her tank top and found that she hadn’t put her bra back on when she’d dressed. He kissed her harder, his tongue moving at just the right rhythm to drive them both crazy, as his hands assaulted her breasts.

"Mmm, yes," Angel breathed into his mouth as best she could. He was so hot, his tongue so skilled, his hands so rough on the smoothness of her own skin. And then she brought her knee up violently, right between his legs. Benoit yelped and leaped backwards as she stood, hands on her hips and a satisfied smirk on her face.

"I went to see Jericho."

"Oh, you did, eh?" Benoit murmured, blinking heavily to disguise the pain he was feeling. "And what exactly did you do with Jericho? Did you fuck him? Did you give him a blowjob? Well, did you?"

"What’s the matter?" Angel asked coolly, as she had back when this had first begun, though the harshness of his words and the edge to his voice were seriously turning her on. "Jealous?"

"Jealous?" Benoit repeated. "Oh no, I don’t need to be jealous. You belong to me. You’re mine, whenever I want you. And I know what you’re like. How you screw around, anyone who wants a piece of you. Right, slut?"

Angel let out a furious cry and drew her hand back, ready to slap him again. But he caught her arm and threw it down violently.

"Not this time, bitch," he roared, slamming her up against the wall again, tearing at her clothes, throwing them away, getting access to her body, just like he wanted. He became transfixed on her breasts, attacking them with his hands, his lips, his teeth, his tongue. She moaned and writhed against him, her own hands trailing down his body, grabbing him, caressing him. Not that he needed any encouragement as he suddenly brought his hand down on her ass, clamping it there as she cried out at the exquisite pain. His other hand caught her behind the shoulders and he held her tightly against him, controlling her movement, slow and deliberate. He kissed her again, drew her tongue into his mouth and sucked on it so she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but let him hold her, guide her movement. Somehow they made it to the bed and he was bearing down on her, his mouth right next to her ear as his hips rolled over hers, making her whimper with delight and desire.

"I want you to fuck me," he breathed suddenly. "I want you to fuck me like you fuck Jericho."

Like she what? She wasn’t fucking Jericho, was she? But he wasn’t done yet, grabbing her by the hips and rolling their bodies over, so she was now straddling him.

"I bet he likes you on top, doesn’t he, slut? I bet you ride him real good. Ride me, slut. Fuck me, just like you fuck him, just the same. Fuck me. Fuck me now! Do it!"

Angel didn’t know what to do, but she did, she did. How she fucked Jericho?

"Okay, Benoit," she panted. "Whatever you say."

She leaned over and found his mouth with hers, kissing him deeply, tenderly as she had with Jericho that one time. And then she moved her lips, trailing kisses down his neck, down his chest, making circles with her tongue, like she was licking tequila off him.

He writhed beneath her, moaning softly. "Oh, yes. Princess, yes."

Angel stopped and raised her head. "Jericho calls me baby," she said quietly and then she continued her onslaught, moving her hands to signal her intentions.

"Oh, baby," Benoit gasped. "Baby, baby, baby."

And still she went lower, kissing him, licking him. His hips bucked against her with every movement as he moaned and gasped and called her baby. Suddenly he grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her up so he could meet her gaze. His eyes were wild, hungry, desperate and his face formed a snarl.

"I told you to fuck me, not suck me, now do it!"

And then he shoved her down onto his chest.

Angel paused as she recovered her thoughts. A guy refusing a blowjob? That was a first. But Benoit wasn’t going to let her stop for long. His hips were pressing up against hers again, moving frantically, frenetically, urgent, begging her.

"Fuck me!" he roared, grabbing her by the hips. "Fuck me now!"

What could Angel do? At the back of her mind was something she had to do. Something to do with Jericho. He wants you to fuck him like you fuck Jericho. Do it! Do it! It was fading, fading fast. It was gone. She was gone. All that was left was Benoit and the incredible need to scream his name. So scream she did. Louder and louder, sharper and sharper, faster and faster until…

* * * *

Chris Jericho clicked the remote control, trying to find something else to watch. Another fascinating episode of Sunday Night Heat was over and done with. He tried ESPN and Fox Sports, but the hockey season was finished for another year and all he could find was baseball. He didn’t much care for baseball, but hey, it was sport, wasn’t it?

Rogue wasn’t coming back. That was abundantly clear. Obviously, well it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were doing right now. Probably making the locker room incident seem PG-13. He sighed deeply. He really should have gone with her, to protect her. She wanted to leave, that was obvious. She just needed a little help. Oh well, there was always tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d help her get away. She needed him and he was determined to be there. Even if it threatened his tag team. It had to be done.