Hell in A Cell Brock Lesnar & Kaitlyn_ Rated M
I do not own any of the characters in this story, they are property of themselves and all ring names belong to WWE Enterprises.
I watched as Brock Lesnar broke Shawn Michaels arm and let out a hiss. How dare he do this? How dare he attack a WWE legend, much less a legend that was not prepared for his assault? I almost felt nauseous at his sickening smile as he exited the arena with Paul Heyman chanting in the background "You broke his arm!" in disbelief.
"Celeste?" I heard someone ask and shake my arm. It was Layla El, the WWE Divas Champion, and my impromptu mentor for the evening due to our tag match earlier in the night. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"
"How could he do this? What's wrong with him?" I asked in a horrified whispered that steadily grew louder and more hysterical "Shawn Michaels is a legend! He helped build this business, and Brock Lesnar thinks it's all right to just grab him out of his car and beat him senseless. Is he in-"
Suddenly, Layla's tan hand wrapped around my mouth pulling me out of my tirade and pulled me to her and I immediately saw why. Brock Lesnar was standing right behind me looking the entire world as if he wanted to do to me what he'd just done to Shawn Michaels.
"Hello, Brock" said Layla nervously almost throwing me behind her. I'm almost half a foot taller than Layla, but I crouched behind my older advisor to shield myself from the steely gaze of the blond bruiser. "Fancy seeing you here, I would have figured you'd be out celebrating your victory"
At first Brock didn't move, he just continued staring hard at Layla as if he would see through her lithe body straight to me.
"Well we just figured since little Miss Kaitlyn had such strong moral objections to what my client, Brock Lesnar, just did to Shawn Michaels, we should ask her opinion on what she thinks should happen to Brock Lesnar" said Paul Heyman, his manager and designated mouthpiece. Brock Lesnar barely ever spoke for himself. I had barely heard him say two sentences in the past two months.
"Paul, she's young. She doesn't understand how things work in this business." Said Layla, immediately trying to soothe the two egos while simultaneously distracting their attention from me. "She still believes that people live by some sort of moral code. Don't you remember when the world was kind and you didn't do anything to the people who confronted you?"
"No" said Heyman curling his lip. "Miss Kaitlyn, Brock Lesnar would like a private word with you."
If possible, Layla's iron grip on my wrist became even tighter as all of the color drained out of her face. "Oh, but we had plans for the evening." She lied effortlessly for me. I hadn't any more planned anything with Layla than she had kissed Zack Ryder.
"Now, Layla, we both know that my client is not one to be denied. It would just end… badly for Kaitlyn" said Heyman gesturing towards Brock whose gaze had never wavered from the top of my head. His muscles were rippling as though he was fighting against his own Hulk-like demeanor. I shuddered.
Slowly, Layla's death grip on my wrist slowly loosened resulting in an almost painful throbbing due to the blood rushing back to my hand. She deliberately moved me forward with an apologetic look on her face. I understood; I would do the same thing if Brock Lesnar was vying for her.
"Come along, Miss Kaitlyn" said Heyman, putting his porky hand on the small of my back and guiding me forward towards the locker rooms with Brock in front of us, guiding us to the destination. "I assure you, my client does not bite. He does everything else though"
We stopped at Brock's own personal locker room. He stormed in and slammed the door behind him. I looked to Heyman to enter next but he held his hands up and shrugged.
"He wants to talk to you privately. It wouldn't really be a private conversation if I was there, now would it?" he said and I looked back at that closed door that was most likely hiding my doom. As I went to grab the handle, Heyman grabbed my wrist with a sense of urgency.
"Don't make him mad; just do as he says. He has no qualms with hurting women"
I swallowed hard and nodded. I entered the room quickly and saw him seated on a black leather couch directly facing the door with his face in his hands.
"Close the door and lock it," he said in a low growl that made me jump to obey his orders. Once I turned back around, he was directly behind me almost pinning me against the door. He leaned in and I felt his mouth graze my ear. I shivered.
"Take off your clothes and lay down on the couch," he said simply, his fingers tracing patterns across my hipbone idly.
"What?" I asked in disbelief. A minute ago, I had thought this man wanted to kill me, and now he wanted me to strip for him. He glared at me shortly and pulled his hand through my hair roughly, yanking down my ponytail.
"I don't like to repeat myself" he said gruffly tracing the planes of my face gently. I nodded and pulled my lime green hoodie over my head leaving me in just my lime green zebra-striped ring gear. His face didn't change which made me a little nervous. I slowly removed my ring top to reveal my hot pink bra and matching panties as I removed my ring bottoms. I gathered all my things in my hands and went to put them in the corner when I felt a hand circle around my upper arm.
"I didn't tell you to stop, Kaitlyn," he said harshly taking his other hand and pulling off a bra strap.
"Celeste," I said dropping my clothes and backing against the door again as Brock made a move for the back of my bra.
"What?" he asked gruffly as he got rid of the offending material and reached down my hips to slide my panties down my legs. Now I was completely naked before him and that made me nervous… and vulnerable. Why was I doing this?
"M-My real name is Celeste, not Kaitlyn," I said quietly while avoiding his eyes. I felt his rough calloused hand stroke my thigh while his hot breath wafted over the shell of my ear.
"Does that really matter?" he asked as he pulled my legs up around his waist and walked me over to the afore mentioned sofa. He laid me down and looked down at me "You didn't like what I did to Shawn Michaels, right?"
"No I didn't. I thought it was a disgusting way to treat a human being, not to mention a legend," I said crossing my arms over my naked breasts. He smiled his maniacal grin and lowered his sweatpants just enough to pull out his large erected penis.
"So who are you to tell me what to do? Little Miss Celeste thinks she can tell me exactly what's right and wrong?" he said, his grin growing wider as he spread my legs. "Sweetheart, there's a reason they call me 'The Pain'" he slid his penis into me.
Pain erupted in my lower body as it tried to get used to the foreign presence inside me. I felt tears streaming down my face as his smile widened even more. He roughly grabbed the back of my head and started pumping in and out brusquely of my dry passage, never letting me get used to his size even for a moment. I heard myself cry out in pain as the skin began to rub raw. He chuckled as he mockingly kissed my mouth and whispered:
"I am going to destroy Triple H at Summerslam… he'll never get back into a wrestling ring again. However, tonight I'm going to make sure that you never question what I do again. I'm going to destroy you in a different way. You're my bitch now, Kaitlyn"
I felt my blood boil as he used my ring name and threatened me. I managed to get my hand up to slap him. I watched as his sadistic grin slid from his face and he stopped pumping. For a moment, his attention was completely focused on me.
"My name is Celeste, you asshole!" I hissed at him, bucking my hips to unseat him "Get off of me! I am going home! This should have never gotten this far! I let this happen, because I was scared of you, but I'm not anymore! You're just a stupid bully-"I felt the side of my face burn as if on fire and I looked to see Lesnar leaning above me caressing the mark he'd made on my face. His own was stony with the angry far-off expression I had seen on him before he destroyed people.
"Get up" he hissed jerking me up by the arm "and get on your knees" I was pushed to the floor in an angry flourish and he quickly entered me from behind causing a new wave of stinging pain. Soon blood was running down my thighs due to his brutality. "Don't. Ever. Hit. Me. Again." He grunted out as he kept a bruising grip on my hip and grabbing my hair and yanking it roughly. "I call you Kaitlyn because I like it better. You don't get a say. You call me Brock and nothing else. You don't ever disrespect or contradict me"
I was pleading him to stop, tears flowing with wild abandon. I was saying everything I thought he wanted to hear: "Please, Brock, I'm sorry… I'll never do it again. Please stop, baby." This seemed to appease him a bit, as he finally started slowing down and releasing my hair. Soon after that, he came inside me, hot and sticky. I began sobbing at this point. I felt so bruised, so used, so dirty. He pulled me up and pulled me into his arms. I had a suspicious feeling that he wasn't pressing my face to his chest to comfort me, but to muffle my sound.
"Go and take a shower. I'll give you instructions when you get out." He said. I wondered what kind of instructions he thought I needed. I was never going to question what he did again. As Layla had tried to tell me, it wasn't any of my concern. If I wanted to keep my head above water, I needed to actually keep it down and mind my own business.
The hot water was soothing to my battered body as I scrubbed the blood and semen from my flesh. Soon the rest of my body was as raw as my injured genitalia. I emerged from the shower after all the heat had left the water. I examined my face where Lesnar had slapped me. It was already starting to bruise. Great. I could tell that I would be limping for a while too. I wrapped myself in a towel and walked back out.
Lesnar was sitting on the couch completely clean and dressed looking like nothing had ever happened. There wasn't even a red mark where I'd hit him. He crooked his finger at me to guide me to him. I gingerly sat down beside him wrapping the towel around me more tightly.
"So for every event you and I will share a room. Right now, I'm still in the middle of a divorce and discussing custody of my kids with my soon-to-be-ex-wife, so moving in together is out of the question-"
"Wait a minute!" I said jumping up from the couch clutching the towel to my heart "Move into together? Brock, you just intimidated me into having sex with you. That does not mean we're in a relationship!"
He chuckled slightly at that. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back down to the couch. He gave my bruised cheek a slight kiss.
"Of course not, sweetheart. As I told you, you're my bitch. I just want you near me just in case I decide I want a quick F*** every once and a while and to do my chores. That's what women are good for anyway. To the outside world, it will appear like we're dating, but I would never lie to you like that" He said grabbing my hand. I wanted to gag. He thought because I could be intimidated that he owned me. I turned away from him but he grabbed my face in both of his hands.
"Just so we're clear; that little crazy slut you used to run around with, what's her name, AJ? She's been a real pain in my ass since she became General Manager. I would really hate for her to get hurt because you refused to help keep me… docile," I gasped at his cruelty. AJ may have slapped me on Smack Down a couple of weeks ago, but that didn't mean I wanted her to get hurt. In my heart of hearts, I still cared deeply for the petite Diva.
"No, no, no, Brock, baby, there's no need to think about that. I'm here for you to use in any way you see fit," I said putting on a megawatt smile and stroking his face. His smirk made me want to retch but I continued to stroke his face and even leaned up to kiss his mouth a few times.
"Good girl. You learn very quickly. I'm glad for that." He said as he sealed his mouth over mine. "Get dressed. I have a lot of stuff I have to get done tonight and you standing here half-naked is just going to distract me from all of it."
As I pulled my clothes back on, I could feel his eyes boring into my back. I turned around and he was holding something out to me. It was a hotel key card.
"Room 319. I expect you to be waiting there for me. Order you some room service or something, you are way too skinny" he said and dismissed me with a wave of his hubcap sized hand. I bolted out of the room. I launched myself around the corner and straight into the arms of Randy Orton.
"Whoa, careful there, sparkplug. Where's the fire?" He joked until he saw the bruise on my face. His face clouded with rage. "Kaitlyn, who did this to you?"
I shook my head, fumbling in my explanation that I had gotten it in my match but he just narrowed his eyes further. "You suck at lying, you know that?"
"I'm sorry, Randy, but I really have to go." I said, wrenching out of his grip and sprinting away from him as fast as I could go. I dodged people left and right and had almost made it to the door of the parking garage when a small but strong hand grabbed my arm and spun me around.
My former best friend AJ Lee stood there staring at me, a look of hurt and confusion on her face.
"Celeste, what happened? Layla came and told me earlier that Paul and Brock cornered you, and now Randy just told me that you looked like you had been beaten to hell by something" she said in a firm voice. I refused to open my mouth. She crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest "Look, Celeste, we may not be friends anymore, but it's my job as GM to make sure everyone is in fighting order. If someone is hurting you, you need to tell me"
I turned away from her, stung by her words. I bet she wouldn't be so high and mighty if I told her about the deal I'd just made with Brock Lesnar to keep her safe. I gave her a glare.
"I'm sorry Ms. Lee; I must have confused you with someone who cared about me for a moment. My mistake. It'll never happen again" I said as I opened the door and stormed into the parking garage. She didn't follow me, but to her credit, she did call after me, genuine distress in her voice,
"Celeste, come back here! Celeste!" I didn't even look back though as I piled into my car. I was just about to start driving away when I saw a flurry of brunette curls run at my car. It was Eve Torres, my new arch-nemesis. She knocked on my window, which I quickly rolled down for her. She slid my phone into my hand and wordlessly put my pocketbook in my lap. The look in her eyes said that she understood what I was going through. She opened my car door and squatted down to my level. She opened her arms and I folded into them, my tears falling hot and thick on her shoulder. She held onto me and whispered soothing words into my ear.
"Go on now, honey, he's going to send Heyman to check up on you soon." She said as the door to the parking garage opened again. I nodded and closed the car door and peeled out of the garage. I could hardly see through my tears, and couldn't believe that I made it safely to the hotel.
I ran to my room that I shared with Naomi and found that the card key wouldn't work. I considered going downstairs and telling them this, but somehow I knew that Brock Lesnar was just that thorough. I had a sneaking suspicion that only the card key he gave me would work. I walked back to the elevator and went up to the next floor where usually only the big superstars got the rooms. People like John Cena, CM Punk, and the Rock; not people like scrawny little Kaitlyn. I found his room and used the card. It opened.
As I went inside, I was aware I wasn't the only one in the room. Sure enough, Paul Heyman was seated on the couch.
"Ah, Miss Kaitlyn, so good to see you again." He said as he gestured toward the wall where my leopard printed luggage was. "I inspected your wardrobe, and I must say, while I'm sure it all looks fabulous on you, I saw nothing sophisticated or sexy there. My client, Brock Lesnar, has left it up to me to ensure that you look like you belong with him. For tonight, I have one outfit for you. We'll go on a shopping trip together on another occasion"
I opened the package and almost died of embarrassment. Some sort of black lacy lingerie met my eyes. I was supposed to wear this?
"Trust me, Miss Kaitlyn, you'll only be wearing that for a short amount of time." He said with a saucy wink, "I have taken the liberty of ordering you some dinner. Filet mignon with mashed potatoes. I, and Brock Lesnar, expect you to eat every bit."
I sat down at the table where my food was and took a bite of the steak. It was flavorful and good, but I might as well have been eating rubber. I just wasn't hungry, but with Heyman watching me, I ate until I was done. He smiled and took my plate away.
"Go and get dressed, my dear, then try to get some sleep. You won't be getting much when he gets here." He said before he walked out the door leaving me alone in my posh prison. I picked up the parcel that I had thrown on the bed and considered wearing it for a minute, and then thought that it would just be a waste. He'd rip it anyway. Therefore, I just pulled my clothes off and climbed into bed completely naked.
Just as I had started to drift off into sleep, the door threw open and I knew my new sugar daddy was home. I heard him grunting around for a few minutes and then I felt him slide beneath the sheets next to me. I lay next to him pretending to be asleep even as he put his arms around my waist and pulled my back to his chest.
"There's my pretty bitch. Give me a kiss, huh?" he said and turned me around in his arms. I put my fake smile back on and kissed him deeply. He groaned and hauled himself up so he was hovering over me. This was my prison, and this was my captor. I was in my own Hell in a Cell.