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Disclaimer: The following characters belong to WWE and all the people and
companies who deal with all that legal stuff. I am simply using the
characters for my own twisted enjoyment.

This is from Kelly's POV. I had been meaning to write this story for quite
some time but never got around to it, so excuse me for its lateness.

E-mail: KrazyKora@aol.com or WinterViolet24@aol.com



Fear Fixation
by Kora

Sometimes I wonder how I ended up like this but I find it's better not to
wonder about it because that makes my head hurt and my stomach ache. No one
seems to notice any difference. They still see me as bright eyed, bubbly
Kelly Kelly with the nice legs and hot ass. All smiles no troubles, no dark
circles under my eyes...make-up helps with that.

God, people don't know shit about me, do they?

They don't see my problems, don't see the troubles that lie just beneath the
surface of my skin. My perfect porcelain skin. See, that's precisely it.
Porcelain skin. Perfect porcelain skin. I'm perfect, flawless, at least
that's what I want you to think or what you want to think or what they want
you to think.

But I digress 'cause I don't want to get too damn philosophical.

Instead I should just shut the hell up and focus on the matter at hand. The
matter of hand being how sheltered I've always been, how small my world was
until she entered the picture. She tore it all up, my happy little bubble of
existence. She blew in like a hurricane and tore me apart, tore it all down
and exposed me to things I wasn't even aware were in the world.

You know, I had never thought of myself as naïve until her. I thought I knew
the score. I thought I had it all figured out. I wasn't a child, I wasn't a
baby. I thought I had myself, my place, and the world pegged down pretty
good. And then she came a long. She was a force; she came up like fire onto a
lake of gasoline-quick, silent, deadly, and with a forceful impact.

People back stage were comparing her to Chyna back in ol' Chyna's hey-day,
but they were quick to point out that while she may have been like ol' Chy,
she was a helluva a lot better looking than she was. I didn't notice that of
course. Why the hell would I?

I don't check out other chicks. I don't look at their breasts or their bodies
and lick my lips 'cause I'm no carpet muncher. Or at least, I wasn't...

Um.

Back-up a bit. See, as I was saying, I didn't give a shit about her looks. I
didn't even go through the trouble of comparing her to me. I've done that
before. The comparing. I'd compared me and Eve numerous times and frankly
have always thought out of the two of us that I am ten times better looking
but that's besides the point.

Being so popular with the male superstars, I often get a backstage pass to
the men's locker room and I heard them talk about her enough. They all
thought she was crazy but they all admitted they would have loved a swipe at
her.

Hell, even John friggin' Cena, the hustle loyalty respect guy, admitted he
would have taken a hit at her 'cause she was a fine piece of work.

I was jealous naturally. Normally it was me the men lusted after, I had
overheard them more than once talking about wanting to fuck my brains out and
frankly I'm not the kind of girl who gets insulted by that kind of thing.
I've always thought that if a guy wants to fuck me or jerk off to me or
whatever that I should take it as a compliment.

I mean, it just tells you how attractive you are if a guy has actually given
you some consideration as sex material. Sure, men are animals and they view a
lot of women as a piece of meat and I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother
me sometimes but frankly, like I said, I truly see it merely as a compliment.

'Cause I'm not star-eyed. I don't lie to myself like some little girls and
say I'm going to get romance, marriage, and happily ever after 'cause that's
bullshit. No, if I'm lucky, I'll get immortalized as some guy's memorable
fantasy, wet-dream girl and make money while doing it. That's reality, that's
the way it really is.

I know, I know, it's surprising to hear how bitter and cynical I really am.
What did I tell you? No one knows what I really think or what I really feel.
Isn't it all shocking as shit?

Anyway, I was talking about her, and if you haven't figured it out yet, by
'her' I mean our Diva’s champion Beth Phoenix. She's the one this whole rant
is about. She's the one who changed my life.

As I was rambling about, I was jealous 'cause the guys in the locker room
were drooling after her instead of me and I, feeling so secure in my little
place and world, wanted to confront her on it. Surprisingly enough though,
she all ready had her own plans.

She had been pegging divas-divas with pretty faces and puppies and all that
and tearing them apart. I, unexpectedly, became her next target. The newest
object of her warped obsessions. And that's when she tore me apart. She
frightened me. I had never been frightened before.

Yeah, I was afraid.

But not for the reason everyone thought.

And certainly not the reason I was originally afraid of her to begin with.

No, I was afraid because when she was that close to me, when she slid her
soft, silky wet tongue along my cheek, I felt a sliver of emotion shoot
through me, pool between the center of my legs. I felt arousal.

Her actions had made me wet.

I couldn't believe it.

I was disgusted with myself for days after, thankful for the fact that I had
shown fear and not any other emotion on camera, but honestly, when she had
attacked me I had felt shivers of fear and arousal mingle together to make
some new emotion.

And that emotion, whatever the fuck it was, I began to crave like a junkie.

So, from then on, my world was tilted on its side a bit. Off center, but not
yet crushed. I would end up crushing it though, I did it the night I finally
worked up the courage to see her. To dare to even enter her dark domain or
whatever you want to call it. I wandered on to her turf, into her lair, and
she didn't kill me or attack me...at least, not the way you'd think.

Hell, the night I went to her I was shaking, trembling with fear and
anticipation and all sorts of things. My stomach rolled around so much I
thought I'd be sick but I stuck to my guns, was brave and asked her face to
face about the situation. What I felt, how she might feel, what the fuck she
had done and what was happening.

And her answers, what she did, has led me here to now. To this moment, where
my world, the one I knew, is gone, smashed and ground to dust to what it is
now. Here I am, outside her hotel room as I have been so many times before,
my body quivering as I lift a hand and knock briskly.

The door pops open and a hand reaches out, snatching the front of my purple
nylon shirt and dragging me inside into the darkness of the room. The door
slams behind me and I'm thrust up against it.

She's all over me like she always is. Hot and panting, hungry. Her mouth
covers mine and she's kissing me like I'm water and she's thirsty, her tongue
thrusting in like a hot poker to stoke the roof my mouth.

I don't struggle, instead I try, as always, to keep up, my own tongue clumsy.
Her fingers are digging into my shoulders, leaving claw marks as always.
She's making those sounds again-the ones that drive me crazy. I never thought
I could get so fucking turned on by the noises another girl makes but shit if
I don't when Beth’s the one doing it. She makes these purring, whimpering,
growly kind of sounds.

And she rubs her body all over mine. Our breasts mashing together, caressing
and touching, nipples hard as rocks and hips grinding together. I always
tangle my own hands in her hair, wrap her dark locks around my fingers.

My own sounds are always quiet...confused. Like I can't believe I'm doing
this. Oh sure, the first time I made them they were genuine. I didn't know
what I was doing and couldn't believe it but now, after having done this so
many times, I don't know why I still make them.

'Cause this isn't new.

We've done it before and were going to do it again.

And right now, we are definitely doing it.

She grabs handfuls...no...clawfuls, of my shirt and tears it up and off over
my head. I hear the material rip but she gets me so hot I don't care. My bra
goes next and she's nuzzling my neck, licking and biting. Literally biting.
She's left marks. I always have to cover those up.

She's pawing at my breasts and I'm moaning, my knees shaking, falling apart.
It's amazing the strength and force she puts behind these sexual assaults.
It's almost like she's a man the way she goes about it. All heated lust and
hunger. God only knows what she does to Natalya when they fuck. She is
probably the bitch in their relationship 'cause lord knows; I'm the bitch in
this one.

Her mouth is moving lower and I'm practically breaking glass with my keening
cries of desire. I only get loud with her, don't ask why, because lord knows
I don't know.

Oh Jesus....she's...sucking my...

Okay, I'm back. God, I love it when she does that.

I have to return the favor, don't I?

This is new as I lash out, biting her nipple thorough her shirt.

She squeals and the look on her face....

Oh shit, she liked that.

I can tell I earned brownie points.

Her crazy dark eyes are full of fire and she gives me that crazy grin of hers
as she tears off her own shirt and bra, and then reaches both hands out to
take fistfuls of my hair, thrusting my head down between her breasts. I do
like she wants, licking and sucking and kissing all the flesh I can and she
loves it. We both fall back on the bed and I can see she's got the handcuffs
out, one attached to each post of the bed. Oh lord, I'm in for more trouble.

She loves to punish me. Torture me.

She gets a real kick out of it. The first few times were especially good
because I really was frightened and helpless. See, it's my innocence she
craves from me, my naivete. The things I didn't think I had but she saw. Even
though she and I do this now, I guess I still have it or she probably
wouldn't want me anymore.

She's got both my wrists in a vice like grip and she's practically humping me
with her hips, holding me to the bed with an inhuman amount of strength. She
eases my hands into the cuffs and, naturally, I let her. I always do. She's
got me chained up and she's tugged off my skirt. Her fingers and mad mouth
now scoring my long legs.

I'm only wearing my aqua blue mesh panties now and she's slowed down,
relaxing. This is always a bad sign because whenever she takes a breather it
only means when she does catch her breath that she's going to be even more
outrageous than before. She nuzzling my thighs now, her cheeks warm and soft.

I can still remember the first time I confronted her, when this began and I
asked her why she does the things she does, why she's the way she is. See, in
these activities, we don't talk much-obviously, what's there to talk about?
I'm not about to be all, 'how was your day, honey?' Our...relationship isn't
like that.

But anyway, when I asked her, she was short and to the point, all she said
was, 'Because I can.' I took that for that and we haven't talked about it
much since but I have to admit she has been...well...more civil to me since
this began.

She still beats the shit out of Eve and hates all the other divas with a
passion but me, I guess she has something of a soft spot for, 'cause she
hasn't laid a finger on me publicly since that last attack. The one with the
face licking, the one that led to this.

Sure, she sometimes clubs me in the arm or talks about how pretty I am and my
puppies and blah, blah, blah-the normal psycho diva bullshit but I can tell
it's just for appearances. Not that anyone would ever think that she and I
are in this kind of relationship. It's inconceivable. Hell, it's
inconceivable to me and I'm in it.

I suck in a breath as her face is now centered above my underwear, her breath
whooshing over the very center of my being, the area where all my blood is
currently pumping, and all the sensitivity.

She can be vicious here or gentle, depends of her mood and for the moment it
seems we're going gentle as she delicately traced me through the material,
her fingertips dancing lightly over me.

I let out a kittenish moan of pleasure. I'm so wet and eager and frankly I'm
not in the mood for slow right now. I struggle against my bonds and,
ironically enough, it too is for show. When I want out it's obvious. At this
moment I only partially want out. If not to just grab her hair and force her
face down into my...

Ohhhhhhh....never mind, she got the picture herself.

I start thrashing now, literally fighting my bonds and she begins to mouth me
through my panties. I wish she'd just take them off. In fact I'm asking her
to now, my voice tight and desperate.

She smirks and does as I ask for once, which is a shock, normally she never
does as I ask. I must have said the magic words though and soon enough she's
devouring me whole, her tongue driving in and out and moving over every lush
region, my legs wrapped around her. I'm lucky I've never broken her neck when
this happens considering how much I tighten up when I'm close to climax.

And I'm so close right now. She's doing an absolutely lovely job on me and I
feel her hands fondle my breasts, teasing my nipples then going around to cup
my ass, squeeze it as she lifts my body closer to her mouth, feasting away on
me.

My cries are growing louder and thicker with intensity. I'm writhing now and
I feel myself titter on the edge. Then one hand goes lower, her fingers find
me and she's thrusting in and I tumble over, starbursts exploding in front of
my eyes and I wonder if it'll ever end.

Slowly my being floats back down to earth and my wrists begin to ache from
fighting my restrains. Oddly enough that was pretty quick. A lot of the time
she really drags it out, teasing and torturing until I can't see straight.
She has me go down on her sometimes but a lot of the time she seems to derive
more pleasure from tormenting me then in satisfies herself.

Maybe that's her way of being a considerate lover, who knows.

Anyway, she's sedated for the moment and crawls up my body. She'll leave me
chained up for a while as she rests, never eager to let me be free. When she
releases me she never caters to my sore wrists or mouths platitudes. Instead
she normally tosses me my clothes and leaves the bedroom until I'm gone.

That's the way it's always been and the way it probably always will be.

And then its business as usual until I come knocking on her hotel room door
again. Ready for another round of...what we do. There are always some
variations, like I've said. Maybe next time she'll force me to please her.
I've never actually gotten to chain her up, doubt I ever will but who knows?
She seemed to enjoy when I attacked her tonight, so maybe her kinks are
taking another turn.

I never really elaborated on one thing though, the thing that drove this
whole thought process in the first place.

The Glamazon destroying my world.

How and why.

Well, from her I learned what sex really was, why people are so addicted to
it. I learned passion and lust, want and desire. I learned how to have a
fulfilling orgasm and I learned about fear. She said once that I give her the
one thing no one else does, fear. And I do give her that, that and more
because that emotion I felt the first time she licked my face.

It was fear.

But it's a new kind of fear.

A kind of fear that you grow addicted to and want over and over again.


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