It's funny you know that as I lay here, broken and bleeding, that I can't remember how this all started. I can't remember what began the game. It must have been some easy touch, some subtle caress. Maybe just an innocent brush of fingertips and a few well chosen words.

I do remember when the fury broke, when it turned from innocent to brutal. I remember the first time, how he hurt me, loved me. I remember how they fought over me like eager little boys. Each trying so hard to surpass the other.

So odd that this little game, this little display of torment and power turned into this... That it became my everything, my addiction, my heaven.

She broke through the curtain and out of the shadows of the gorilla position. Brushing blonde hair over her shoulder, she tightened the waist of her dark coat, fluorescent lights of the arena halls shimmering fluidly on the silky material. She tossed this evening's cowboy hat to a nearby go-for and quietly asked if he could find someone to fix the lining.

I stood there calmly, watching her every move, back pressed against the cool concrete wall, my still-wet wife beater clinging to clammy post-match skin sickly. The way she tilted her head to the side and listened intently to what Finley had to say. That brief nod of complete understanding, and the slow smile at some well-deserved compliment. I noted it all, catalogued it.

As she ran her fingers through that long blonde hair, pulling the waves away from her face, she turned towards the locker rooms and saw me. Those wide brown eyes locked onto me, and I saw it there, felt it there. She started towards me, strutting like a panther in the zoo, short vinyl skirt riding up her thighs with each step, heavy boots clunking down the linoleum, hips swinging like a pendulum.

Oh, yeah, he saw it, as she licked her glossy lips and caught her tongue between her teeth. He wanted to laugh. Trish Stratus still thought that he was the hunted.

"Nice job out there, Stratus. Looking fabulous as ever," Jeff said as he pushed off the wall, coming to meet her halfway. Ever the Southern Gentleman, Trish thought.

"Oh, I know," she said with another calculated hair toss, her eyes roving over him shamelessly. She loved the way the white tank showed the contours of his muscles, the way the loose black pants hung low on his hips. Her tongue flicked over her lips again while images of ripping off his shirt and lapping at his belly flitted through her head. She wanted to laugh when he shifted uneasily.

"Yeah, I guess you do," he mumbled as his hand nervously tangled in short blonde strands.

Trish reached out carefully, as she would any wild animal almost in her trap, and ran one finger down his left arm, tracing the smeared swirls of paint. "Do you need someone to help you get that off?" Fingertip lingering over the soft flesh at the bend of his arm, nail brushing over his raised veins. He shuddered as the gooseflesh rose; Trish fought the smirk twisting at her lips.

"You offering?" His drawl already strained. God, this is too easy, she thought joyously and closed the distance between them.

"Mmm, something like that," she murmured. That little girl's voice of hers dropping to a husky purr. She sinuously pressed her body against his, her knee parting his legs, strong upper thigh brushing against his crotch. "But you never seem to take me up on my offers."

She smiled as he gasped, feeling that glow of triumph, as Jeff fought to keep from hardening. Something near pain flashed over his face, mouth twisting in a grimace, green eyes flaring to life. The game got easier each time she played, and Jeff had become her favorite opponent.

Through gritted teeth, he growled, "And you always seem to disappear before I can put in my voucher." She couldn't help but notice his white knuckled fists held so tightly at his sides.

"Do I? I hadn't noticed..." The look of mock oblivion faded into an easy smile as she pivoted her leg at the hip, grinding her thigh against him. His moaned response sent a cool rush racing through her veins. Oh, I have you now...

"Always," he muttered. "One of these days, I'm not gonna let you get away, Trish."

"Why would you think I want to get away?" she asked with that same easy smile, eyebrows arching coyly. "Maybe I just know when to make the most effective exits."

Trish set her hands on his strong shoulder and reached to brush his lips chastely with her own. She lingered there for a moment, reveling in the way his lips hungrily sought hers, the way his hands reached for her, before pulling away. "And it looks like it's that time again, Jeff." She patted his cheek before stepping back, laughing softly at his suffering expression, at the bulge in those loose black pants. She blew him a kiss before turning and walked, ass swinging for his viewing pleasure, down to the locker rooms.

Jeff slammed one fist into the wall as she twitched off.

He didn't follow her.

He could have. That would have been an option, but he chose a different plan of attack. As he headed down the hallway, Jeff slammed the other fist into the dense wall. He'd lie in wait. Yeah, find himself a nice dark out of the way corner and wait. Now, to get there before she did...

Jeff broke into a sloppy run down the corridor.

She nearly skipped to the parking area, still riding the high off her most recent victory. Mastery over Jeff revving her system like a drug. He was really the only one she took any pleasure in playing with anymore... Every so often, she was almost tempted to end the game by following through with one of those offers. But where was the fun in that? And it would be such a sad waste of slowly built sexual tension.

God, she'd worked hard on this one, so painstakingly weaving the taunting in subtle gestures. Of course, now it was to a nearly violent point. Like tightrope walking a sharp knife edge, but she'd never push him over the brink. Well, maybe...

Trish laughed aloud then. One full throaty roll of laughter, that turned into a muffled cry as strong fingers violently tangled in her hair, ripping her head back and nearly pulling her off her feet.

Her duffel bag and purse dropped and skittered across the floor as she fought, hands immediately wrapping around the wrist of her attacker. Stiff acrylic nails biting into his flesh even as her thick heels searched for purchase on the slippery floor. He yowled softly in pain letting out a curse, the voice, the accent familiar even to her frantic mind.

He yanked her head forward and down, pulling her off balance again as he spun her easily, his other hand rising and catching one small wrist. Jeff dragged her kicking and screaming to the wall, before slamming her against it. Her head bounced off concrete, and in one dazed moment, she forgot to fight. She shook her head, desperate to clear it, barely noticing as he locked both her wrists in his strong fingers and held her arms ineffective over her head.

He crushed his larger body against hers, trapping her, pinning her. She blinked up into his eyes, shock making the scene starkly clear, and saw no reason in those green depths. Dear, God, what have I done...

"Jeff... what are you d-doing?" Trish gasped out the words as he ground against her. The harsh strain of his erection bruising against her hipbone. She tried to wiggle away, tried to slide out from under him, but he locked her between his legs, cutting off her movements.

"Such a fucken tease, Trish. See what you've driven me to?" He snarled at her. She flinched away, turning her head to the side as he bared his teeth. "See what you've made me do?" He dropped his head to her neck. His teeth grazing her skin as he roughly suckled her jumping pulse point.

"Jeff... please... you don't have to d-do this..." She paused when he growled at that. No need to make him angrier, she thought frantically. She had to appeal to something rational. There still had to be something sane within him. "Someone m-might come..." His short harsh laugh cut her off.

"Then it'll just have to be a quickie, won't it?" He whispered hotly against the skin just below her earlobe.

She struggled in earnest then, and he just smiled that crazy daredevil smile. Ohgodohgodohgod. She might have said that out loud. He pulled her forward suddenly and slammed her back against the wall again, his hand tightening around her wrists to a nearly crushing force, his dried body paint flaking and scratching her pinned arms. She whimpered his name uselessly.

His free hand dropped to her skirt, and she felt him pull up roughly on the fabric, felt it bunch in heavy folds on her hips. Strong greedy fingers brushed her skin, grazing the lace of her thong, and then wrapping in it. Trish cried out as he tore the lace from her body. The rough fabric scraping her skin, the broken elastic snapping back in a harsh sting.

She looked down as he fumbled with his pants, loosened the fly. His cock springing forth surrounded by the dark v of his pants. She tilted her head back up to look at him. Meeting his eyes, and trying not to flinch at heated emotions she found there.

Jeff leaned in, blonde hair falling into his face, his green eyes boring into hers, lips barely a breath a way, and whispered, "You wanted this." She turned her face away again, and shuddered as he lewdly ran his tongue over her cheekbone. "You. Fucking. Wanted. This." His voice was harsh with rage.

"Jeff... please..." She whimpered softly, her brain creating a frantic litany. This can't be real. This can't be happening. This can't be real. She tried meeting his eyes one last time. "Jeff... don't--" His lips angrily crushed against hers, cutting off her words, swallowing the sounds.

She closed her eyes tightly as she felt him guide himself to her shamefully wet hole. She sobbed into his mouth as he slid inside. His groan of pleasure frightened her, but she didn't fight hard as he roughly grabbed her leg and wrapped her calf around his naked ass, the suede of the boot sticking to his bare skin. She didn't twist her head to the side as his tongue stormed into her mouth, feeding off her demandingly.

Once fully inside her, the madness stilled for a moment. Jeff made a sound, almost a purr of contentment that made her lips vibrate, before he pistoned out and into her sharply. His thrusts rocking against her cervix harshly, the force bruising her inner walls, her inner thighs, bouncing her back into concrete. He growled against her lips, his body relentlessly thrusting, as if he wanted to break her in half, rip her in two. Pleasure, pain, and fear were mingling, pushing to a crescendo, as, with each movement, his pelvis ground against her.

Trish tried to squelch the familiar tingling as it rose along her nerves, traveled outward over her. She tired to stop her lips from responding to the overt and painful pressure of his. She tried to bury the urge to meet his frenzied thrusts. She couldn't stop it. She couldn't stop.

So close. So fucking close now. There was something in the way she struggled, something in those soft mewling sounds she was making high in her throat; made being inside her even more intoxicating. Jeff continued the harsh rocking. Pulling in and out of her tight, hot folds, as his mouth devoured hers. He could taste the bitterness of fear in her mouth. And the copper of blood. He must have split her lip. He liked it.

Even though he could barely hear it over the blood ringing in his ears, over the sharp slap of skin, he liked it more when she screamed into his mouth. Her muscles locked down vise-like around him in release, and he growled, finally breaking the painful kiss, as his own climax shot through him. Filling her to the brim, and overflowing hotly.

Aftershocks of pleasure ground through him, the aching release finally complete. He pressed his sweaty forehead to hers, panting slightly, before opening his eyes. He took in his prize. His vision. Her cheeks were stained with black mascara tears; her eyes still tightly closed. Jeff released her leg and arms as he withdrew from her.

Trish slid down the wall and slumped to the floor. Her chest heaving with labored breaths. Her legs spread, knees up, ankles twisting in the big boots, for all the world looking like a lost little girl.

He absently fixed his pants as he stared down at her, at the mess that was Trish Stratus. He liked watching his cum drip out of her. He liked knowing he bruised those full lips. He liked knowing he was the cause of those dark tears.

He hunched down before her, and caught her chin in his hand. He leaned forward to give her one sweet kiss, but he wasn't offended when she flinched away. No, he thought as he smiled. Not offended at all. He rocked back on his heels and rose smoothly, a sated smile on his lips as he strode deeper into the arena.

I'm not going to cry, Trish thought. I'm not going to cry. She didn't know tears were already streaming down her face as she clumsily struggled to her feet. Holding back threatening sobs, she pulled her tight skirt back into semblance of order, and relocated her duffel bag and purse.

"Sweet dreams, Trish," Jeff called from somewhere down the hall. She shuddered at his voice. The hairs at the back of her neck rising. She had to get out of here... and she didn't even realize she was running until she skid to a stop at her car.

Jeff had watched her for the past few weeks, and noted the changes. Trish was different, and he was the cause. Now, that was power. She was nervous now, she avoided. The locker room were all busy placing bets on who'd she'd torment next. They didn't seem to notice she was acting like the victim.