Warning: Rape! Sort of?
----------------------------------------
Don't Think It's Over
by Lianne Burwell
March 2002
----------------------------------------
RAW was over, and so was the draft. The remaining wrestlers
would be assigned based on a lottery, but for Maven, it was
over. He didn't think he'd ever been more relieved than
when Vince McMahon had announced that Maven was his last
draft choice.
Vince picking him meant that he was on SmackDown. Really,
he didn't much care whether he was on SmackDown or RAW. The
important thing was that *Undertaker* was on RAW, Ric
Flair's first draft pick, the crazy bastard. After what
'Taker had done to the man's son, Maven wasn't sure just
why the hell Flair wouldn't want the man around. And shit,
had 'Taker been pissed or what? Maven wasn't sure why the
man was so pissed off, considering he had *asked* Flair to
draft him. Obviously it had been part of some sort of plan
that had backfired.
But being on separate shows meant that he didn't have to
worry about the Undertaker taking an 'interest' in *his*
career anymore. Getting his big premiere in the WWF at the
Royal Rumble had been a dream come true at the start. Sure,
he'd won the Tough Enough contest, but that just meant that
they had to give him a contract, not that they had to
actually use him. After all, look at Nidia. She'd won the
women's side, but she hadn't been given much to do on
camera.
So what does he do? He goes out and does what he's supposed
to do. He wrestles, and miracle of miracles, he actually
eliminated the Undertaker. Some days he wished he had taken
a dive. Undertaker hadn't taken too kindly to being
eliminated by the rookie. Since then, he'd been making
Maven's life a living hell, showing up to interfere in his
matches, beat the crap out of him. Winning the Hardcore
title had just made it worse. He was just lucky that the
man stopped at just bruises, not broken bones. At least
'Taker seemed to have finally lost interest in him, having
moved on to tormenting others, like Flair.
"Hello, little boy."
Maven froze at the sound of the gravelly voice. Shit, not
now. Please, not now. The area was nearly empty, and the
only reason he wasn't already gone was because he'd been
told that 'Taker had already left in a fury on his
motorcycle. He'd thought he was safe to take his time.
"What, nothing to say?" A large, tattooed arm wrapped
around his neck. The grip was almost gentle, but there was
no way he was going to get out of it. At least, not until
the other man decided to let him go. 'Taker pressed up
against his back, shifting in a way that was almost
obscene, and severed to emphasize just how much larger than
Maven he really was, and Maven had never considered himself
a small man. "Well, let me reacquaint you with a few facts
of life.
"One, no one fucks with the Undertaker. I may have left you
alone for a while, but you haven't finished paying yet.
Two, no one tells the Undertaker what to do. Ric may have
drafted me for his team, but if Vince knows what's good for
him, he'll fix that, and soon. So don't worry, you'll be
seeing me again real soon."
The warm gusts of air against his ear made Maven shiver,
despite his best efforts not to. 'Taker's chuckle told him
that the big man hadn't missed the reaction. "And if you
were worried about Ric's little boy, don't be. He was a
lousy fuck. Nowhere near as much fun as you." His free hand
dropped to cup Maven through his jeans, and Maven nearly
whimpered. He was halfway to hard. God he was sick if he
was getting off on this.
"Oh, yeah," 'Taker said, kneading the stiffening mound,
rubbing his cheek against the side of Maven's head. Maven
had shaved earlier, so the other man's bristles felt even
rougher against his scalp. He was breathing hard now, but
he was damned if he was going to make any kind of noise
that would tell the Undertaker that he was getting to him.
"You are a hot little slut, aren't you. Just can't get
enough of taking that ride." A roll of his hips punctuated
the comment.
The worst thing was, he was right. Ever since the night of
the Rumble when it had all started.
>>>~~~<<<
The hammering on the door woke Maven from a sound sleep. He
rolled over and sat up, hissing as every bruise made itself
felt. He was black and blue, from head to foot, and the
only thing that kept him from looking like a freak show
reject was the fact that his dark complexion hid the
bruises. He glanced over at the second bed, but there was
no sign of his roommate, and he wondered where the man was.
After a pause, the hammering started again. "All right, all
right," he muttered to himself, pushing himself to his
feet. He headed for the door, moving like an old man. Shit,
he was stiff. "Yeah, yeah, what is it?" he asked, opening
his door.
"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"
The sarcastic words was like a splash of cold water as
Maven realized who was standing there. He tried to slam the
door shut, but an oversized foot in a heavy steel-toed boot
was between the door and frame, stopping him. Then the door
was shoved open as the other man forced his way in.
Undertaker filled the tiny hallway, making it obvious that
Maven wasn't going to get past him to the corridor. Just as
well, since he'd look pretty damned stupid running down the
hall wearing only an undershirt and a pair of boxers with a
fellow wrestler chasing him. A real good way to impress the
new boss.
But Al was just down the hall, so if he could get to the
phone... But before he'd gotten two strides towards the
phone, he was grabbed by the back of the neck. "I don't
think so," Undertaker said, stopping him easily. Maven
tried swinging back with an elbow, but he might as well
have struck a brick wall for all the good it did him.
Stomping on the man's instep was also useless, since he was
in bare feet and 'Taker had those boots on.
After that it was all one-sided. Maven had grown up in a
rough part of town, but every single one of the dirty
tricks he'd learned as a kid was deflected with ease. And
despite the fact that he was doing his best to hurt the
other man, 'Taker was almost gentle with him. Assuming, of
course, that gentle included knocking a person to the
ground and bashing his head against the floor hard enough
to leave him dazed. Still, it was just a few more bruises.
Not even a concussion, from the feel of it.
But after that, it was over. Maven was pinned to the floor,
staring up at the amused older man. "You've got guts, boy.
I'll give you that. You certainly were tough enough to
deserve your contract, but you need to learn the facts of
life. You are the rookie. You do not fuck with your
betters, or they will fuck with you. Do you know what that
means?"
Maven swallowed hard. "Uh, no?"
If anything, 'Taker's grin got wider. "Well, you're about
to find out."
'Taker pushed up onto his heels, looming over Maven. Then
he grabbed the bottom of Maven's undershirt and pulled it
up over his head. Maven's eyes went wide, and he started to
struggle again. "Wait a second..." he started to say, but
was cut off by his wadded up t-shirt being stuffed into his
mouth.
"Be quiet, boy. Do as you're told and you won't get hurt."
Of course, trying to get away was out of the question. As
soon as he was gagged, 'Taker pinned his wrists to the
floor with one hand, leaving him with one hand to do
whatever he wanted. A moment later, Maven's boxers went
flying across the room, leaving him both naked *and*
defenseless.
"Now, since you're the new boy, and I like your guts, I'm
going to take it easy on you this time," 'Taker said,
pulling something out of his pocket. That something turned
out to be a tube. Maven didn't recognize it, but at this
point he had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what it
was. He was beginning to wonder just why he'd been so eager
to become a pro-wrestler.
He was a little surprised that the slick finger sliding
into his ass didn't hurt. It was just... there. The second
finger did burn a bit. Then he heard the sound of a zipper
been undone. Opening his eyes -- and when did *that* happen
-- he watched 'Taker open the flat, square package using
one hand and his teeth. He couldn't bring himself to watch
the man put the condom on.
When Undertaker shifted down and pushed Maven's legs up and
out of the way, he started to struggle again. 'Taker
stroked his free hand down Maven's side, making tsking
sounds. "If you fight, I might end up hurting you. This
*is* going to happen, so I suggest you just go with it.
Take a deep breath and let it go."
There was something hypnotic about the man's voice, and
Maven found himself doing exactly what he was told, and as
he exhaled, 'Taker started pushing. The pressure was
incredible, pushing to the edge of painful, but strangely
not over that edge, and he bit down hard on the wad of
cloth gagging him. One tear escaped, and 'Taker leaned down
and licked it away. "That's it, boy. You proved you can
take a lot in the ring; you can take this." There was one
last push, and he felt the scrape of denim against his ass.
"Good boy." The man sounded proud, almost paternal.
For a long moment they stayed that way, frozen in place.
Then 'Taker withdrew slowly, then pressed back in. Then he
did it again, a little faster. Still, there was no real
pain. No tearing, no blood. It was rape, but it was a
strangely gentle, considerate rape.
Then 'Taker changed his angle and Maven hissed as his whole
body jerked. The friction was causing a strange heat to
build, and now 'Taker was doing something else that felt...
incredible. The man did it again, and Maven was embarrassed
to find himself moaning in response. 'Taker heard the moan,
even through the gag, and he smiled. Then his expression
turned to one of intense concentration. The thrusts were
picking up in intensity, and 'Taker moved his free hand to
grab Maven's cock. He started stroking, and the organ
quickly filled.
Maven whimpered deep in his throat as his eyes rolled back
in his head. How fucked up was this? He was being raped and
he was actually enjoying it. Blood rushed to his face with
the shame of it, but he was helpless to stop what was
happening. He was being held down, and his body was
responding, whether he liked it or not. It wasn't him. He
wasn't responsible.
It was almost a relief when he came. 'Taker laughed, a
triumphant sound, then *really* started pounding. Worn out,
all Maven could do was lay there limply and take it. When
'Taker came, it was with a sound almost like a roar.
Finally, he let go of Maven and pulled out.
"Not bad, boy," he said as he pulled off the condom, tied
the end, and tossed it in the wastebasket. Maven thought
about getting up, taking a swing at the older man, but he
couldn't find the energy. Instead, he just pulled the
undershirt out of his mouth and panted.
'Taker stood up and tucked himself back into his pants. He
stood over Maven, straddling him, and stared down, an
unreadable expression on his face. Then he smiled again, an
actual, honest smile. "Like I said, boy, you've got guts.
You're going to go far in this business." Then he squatted.
"Assuming you don't piss off the wrong people. They might
not be as nice about it as me."
'Taker reached down and tweaked one of Maven's nipples. It
caused an almost electrical shock that made his entire body
twitch. "And we aren't through, little boy. You and me,
we're going to see a lot of each other in the next while.
Sleep tight."
After the man was gone, it took nearly a half hour before
Maven finally got to his feet, showered, then climbed back
into bed. He was barely awake the next morning when they
all climbed onto the bus that was taking them to the
airport to fly to the next town the WWF was appearing in.
He never told anyone what happened -- he wasn't sure why --
but he had the feeling that Al knew. The trainer took to
shadowing him to the ring and around backstage, but it
didn't do much good. Maven learned that the next time he
ran into Undertaker. The big man ambushed him during a
taping, beating him up for the cameras yet again. That
night, his roommate was conspicuously absent again. When
the hammering on the door started, he thought long and hard
about leaving the door bolted and calling the front desk
for security, or maybe Al. But would the other wrestlers
think? Hiding behind his trainer, bringing in outsiders? He
didn't want anyone to think he was a coward.
In the end, he opened the door, and it started again.
>>>~~~<<<
Maven's entire body jerked when 'Taker nipped his ear hard.
The hand cupping his genitals tightened to almost painful
pressure, and he came, messily, in his pants.
"That's a good boy," 'Taker purred approvingly, mouthing
the side of his neck. "A good little slut. Now remember,
you're mine, no matter what happens, until I tell you
otherwise. And as soon as Vince deals with his mess, you'll
be seeing me again. And I've got... friends keeping an eye
on you, so watch your step. Got it?"
"Yeah, I got it," Maven said hoarsely.
"Good." Maven was released, and he sagged in relief. "See
you around, boy."
Maven closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His pants
were a sticky mess, and he needed to change them
desperately, but he also just wanted to head back to the
hotel. Once he was sure that he was under control, he
picked up his bag and left the locker room.
"Hey, Maven, I was just looking for you. You ready to head
out?" Maven turned to find Al Snow coming up behind him.
The man was there for the draw, but the next day he would
be heading back to Encino and the Tough Enough filming.
"Yeah, sure," he said, slowing down long enough for his
mentor to fall into step next to him.
Al frowned. "You okay? You look a little tired."
Maven snorted softly. "I'm fine. Let's get going." As they
headed down to the corridor towards the exit, Maven asked,
"So, what do you think life on SmackDown is going to be
like?"
"Well..." Al said, slinging an arm around Maven's
shoulders.
Maven listened with half an ear as Al started talking.
Behind them, he heard a door open, and the back of his neck
prickled. Self-consciously, he straightened. 'Taker was
watching them; he was sure of it. He didn't doubt 'Taker
when the man said that he would get Vince to do what he
wanted. If the man wanted to be transferred to the other
roster, he probably would be. And the strangest thing was,
Maven wasn't really upset at the thought. Scared, sure, but
upset?
He wondered if his roommate was going to show up that
night.
END