The whip sliced through the air and struck the bound man in the back breaking his skin causing him to arch into the wall trying to escape the pain. This really wasn't his thing and he wasn't at all sure how he got into this position except for the fact that never in a million years did he imagine that this unassuming face would be on such a beast. He would cry out if he was able, but the cloth stuffed into his mouth was preventing that.

When the whip struck his skin again leaving what felt like a thousand tiny dots of blood and welts in its wake, his fists clenched against the wood wall of the cabin. His fingernails tried to dig painfully into the hardwood logs that made up the walls, but only succeeded in getting splinters dug hopelessly deep underneath them. He should have known… should have guessed that this guy wasn't what he seemed to be, but he played the game so well… pun intended.

Whenever he confronted him with anything resembling intimidation the big man had backed away sometimes quite quickly. This had led him to believe that the other man had known his place in the grand scheme, but obviously he was mistaken. He'd threaten him but again the gag prevented that. He racked his brain trying to pinpoint the place where he had misjudged the man and quickly cursed Flair for bringing this jackal in. It never crossed his mind that the big man was simply better than him at the act of manipulation.

Behind him the big man looked at his prey sizing him up again making sure that he hadn't missed something then snorted arrogantly when he saw that indeed the Cerebral Assassin was more hot air than anything else. He walked around backstage as if he owned the place. He thought that because he was fucking Stephanie McMahon that would save him. Batista chuckled amused because The Game didn't even realize that his blushing princess was fucking a Hardy behind his back. But then he admitted that if he had a choice between Triple H's overpumped and vein popping physique and Matt Hardy's soft brown eyes and luscious body he'd choose the Carolina boy too. He had come to find that there was something surprisingly sensual and erotic about the saner boys from Cameron.

Batista looked to the bed and saw his young lover lying on his side reading a comic with no sign that there was something brutal going on just a few feet from where he lay. Turning back to Triple H, growling Batista struck the bound man again with as much force as he could muster bringing tiny dots of blood to the surface. "His back looks like the sky when the stars are out," Batista heard from behind him and turned to see Shane standing next to him studying Triple H's back seriously. "I think that's Orion down there by his hip." Batista just smiled and shaking his head turned back to his victim.

Everyone had to pay a price for their sins even the ones that thought they were above such things. "Bring me my gloves Shane," Batista ordered smiling again as the younger man quickly moved to obey him. While he was waiting Batista hit the arrogant man a couple more times wondering if he still held onto that sin determined that before he was through he would beat it out of him.

When Shane came back he handed his lover the gloves he found so fascinating and took the whip studying it. The handle was black and red with black leather cords handing from it. Each thread had various knots at different lengths. Shane couldn't imagine being struck by the thing, but then he didn't want attention from the gloves either despite the fascination they held for him. Black leather with sharp metal spikes running the length of the fingers, the box had called then Vampire Gloves and Shane had known he just had to have them when he stood in the adult toy shop with Matt trying to find something his lover would enjoy.

Forgetting the whip in his hands, Shane watched as Dave pulled on the gloves almost reverently then walked up to stand behind Triple H and wrapped his arms around him. Shane couldn't see what was going on from there except to notice that Triple H was trying his best to arch away but couldn't seem to find a direction to go. He imagined Dave pressing his hands into the flesh of The Game's tight stomach maybe dragging them down lightly tearing at the skin leaving tiny streaks of blood in his wake.

He saw Dave bring his arms back around to run up his sides then ran them over Triple H's large shoulders. He saw Paul shaking his head as if that alone could get Batista to stop. Shane just laughed knowing that nothing short of a visit from the devil himself could get Batista to stop when he was intent on doing something. He saw him grip Triple H's tight buttocks and squeeze. Knowing that the spikes were digging painfully into the flesh there made Shane quite happy.

Triple H on the other hand was anything but happy. Never one to admit to pain, he wasn't about to confess even to himself how much his body hurt right at that moment. He'd torn muscles in his leg and arm and broken bones just about everywhere, but this was like something that he'd never imagined. How in the world he could experience such a thing from so minor injuries he didn't understand, but was determined to remain in control. He wouldn't give in and admit he was anything but the master no matter what Batista did to him.

Leaning in Batista nuzzled the tender skin behind The Game's ear then when he felt the involuntary shudder run through the man sank his teeth into the skin breaking it and covering his lips with blood. Stepping back he laughed heartily as the blond head fell back and screams came despite the gag. Looking over to the bed he saw Shane was again reading, but the giggle that was coming from him told him he was well aware of what was going on.

Pulling out the rack he had Triple H strapped to Batista turned it around so that The Game faced him then moved it back so that his back was pressed to the wood walls of the cabin. Walking to the bed he looked at the toys Shane had laid out earlier knowing that his lover liked a wide variety when playing. First he picked up a pair of nipple clamps connected by a chain the walking over backhanded The Game's chest as hard as he could before applying the clamps to his nipples.

Triple H's eyes would be burning holes in him if they were able, but laughing Batista worked on unfazed by The Game's intimidation tactics. You had to be pretty damn big and bad to intimidate the man formerly known as Leviathan and frankly The Game just didn't fit the bill. Walking over to the bed he fingered masks, straight jackets, large clothespins, before touching a leather ball pouch. Picking it up Batista studied it getting ideas and smiled as a chain appeared under his nose. Leaning in the big man kissed his smaller lover tenderly before turning and walking back to The Game.

Batista smiled with satisfaction as The Game's eyes widened at the site of the pouch. He'd probably seen one but never imagined that it would be used on him. Fastening the pouch into place, Batista used the hooks on the chain to connect the nipple clamps to the ball pouch then leaned in claiming his victim's lips in a biting kiss again drawing blood. Pulling his head back he saw The Game's nostrils flaring with rage and fear although knew that the man would never admit to such a weakness as fear. He thought that he was the master of The Game. Well he would show him that he was merely a pawn or kill him in the process.

Turning back to the bed Batista saw Shane laying there reading his comic already holding the weight that Batista would want in his hand. Walking over Batista leaned down kissing the top of his lover's head letting his cheek linger for a moment resting on the green strands before taking the weight and straightening. "Are you sure that you aren't into this stuff love?" Batista questioned playfully doubtful. Shane just looked up and wrinkled his nose before answering. "I have known Jeff Hardy for how many years? I don't have to like it to know how you people's minds work."

Batista arched an eyebrow then turned back and slowly approached The Game. Dumbly the blonde shook his head in protest, but of course Batista just ignored him and kneeling down attached the weight to the pouch smiling happily at the fear now becoming plainly evident. Hooking the weight onto the pouch he smiled listening to Shane giggle on the bed as The Game's face turned red and sweat poured down his face from the pain.

"It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt." The Game repeated over and over to himself trying with little success to believe that it was true. He was THE GAME. He was the master of all manipulation. He was the king of pain tolerance. He was EVERYTHING and there was no way this… this minion was going to defeat him. He would prove why he was to be feared. He would prove that he could never be conquered. HE would prove… "Ready to be my bitch?" Oh God, he didn't just hear that.

Batista chuckled softly in The Game's ear. "What, you thought that I was gonna do all this and not get something… stimulating out of this… Cerebral Assassin? The Game shook his head desperately trying to protest, but it wasn't working. As Batista again moved the rack allowing Triple H to get a good view of the Carolina Boy on the bed who seemed oblivious, as he flipped through his comics, to what was happening to the Game.

Triple H closed his eyes for a moment trying to block out Shane as Batista bit his way down each side of his neck and over his shoulders. He swore to himself that he wasn't going to react. "I'm not going to cry out. I'm not going to… Oh God that feels good." Batista's breathless chuckles in his ear only made him shiver betraying himself even further.

On the other bed, Shane frowned as he saw the shiver. Pleasure for the retch in the rack wasn't what they were supposed to be going for. Pain, torture, vengeance these were the thing that were to be making up the evening. "Have your fun while you can Triple H, because when Batista gets done it's my turn," Shane threatened quietly to himself.

Behind The Game, Batista jammed his finger into the other man's ass growling happily as his head fell backward, his face he imagined showing the signs of defeat. Nipping all over The Game's shoulders, Batista undid his pants letting them fall to pool around his massive thighs. "You will not enjoy this bitch," he promised softly before ramming his cock into the tiny hole where his finger had just been.

Shane watched growing more displeased by the moment as The Game showed signs of enjoyment. His act of unwillingness was obviously just that. Oh he pretended well, but Shane was well aware of the difference between real unwillingness and pretended unwillingness used to enhance certain experiences. He'd watched Jeff struggle enough, when in the hands of what appeared to be a brutal attack by some viscous Dom, to know when a game was being played. Also from knowing Jeff he'd learned that when you played the game long enough you eventually learned to believe it was real. It appeared that the game Triple H was the master of was denial.

He watched Batista ramming himself in and out of The Game and listened to the captive howl what was supposed to be his displeasure . The only problem was that, while Triple H howled revealing his pain, other parts of his anatomy were betraying his pleasure. No matter how many times the bound man shook his head no, Shane read only yes in his eyes.

The longer he watched the more enraged he grew. Torture and vengeance should never be mixed with pleasure. The more Batista raked his Vampire Gloves over The Game's body or brutalized his ass with his hard cock the happier the supposed victim got. So by the time Batista shot his victory into The Game's well used ass, their calm young watcher had worked himself into a state of fury that they all were going to soon find out was deadly.

Batista pulled out of The Game well pleased with what he saw as his success until he looked into the blazing eyes of his lover. "You promised me he'd suffer!" Shane raged at his much bigger lover recklessly. "You promised me that he'd BREAK. YOU PROMISED ME THAT HE'D BEG!"

Batista looked nervously at the furious face of his normally gentle lover and knew that something bad was about to happen. Fidgeting he watched Shane climb off the bed and pull out the unusual plastic bed underneath it. "What are you going to do?" The smile that his lover flashed him was so cold that it made the hair stand up on the back of Batista's neck. "I'm going to make him beg. I'm going to make him suffer. I, Batista, am going to break him so bad that he'll never be fixed." Shane promised Batista frighteningly.

Batista knew that he should open his mouth and argue, but was unsure he wanted to suffer the consequences it would bring. "Put him in the bed," Shane ordered and mutely he did so not able to meet The Game's pleading expression. "Shane as hard as he is…" Batista started to say, but the low growl that came from his lover stopped him from continuing.

After The Game had been put into the new bed Shane closed the plastic top over him sealing him in. The bed itself was made of a heavy duty pink translucent plastic that had only two holes over the nose for air. Once you were put into the bottom the top, which was molded to appear to be a human form, was locked in place enclosing someone into a plastic prison. After the other person was sealed in, a vacuum was used to suck all the air out of the bed making movement impossible. In the past Shane has always said that just looking at that bed scared him. It appeared as though he'd changed his mind.

After sucking the air out o the bed, Shane picked up the pair of silken boxers that had been residing in The Game's mouth up until Batista put him into the bed. Moving to straddle Triple H's massive chest Shane grinned darkly down at the nervous man. Folding the boxers neatly Shane smiled faintly before speaking softly. "You know Triple H this bed comes with a warning written in big red letters." Carefully Shane placed the boxers over the air holes making sure that an arm covered it to ensue that no air could get in. It says to be careful not to obscure the air holes. I wonder what's gonna happen when I don't heed that warning."

Triple H's eyes widened as breathing became impossible. Never in his life had it occurred to him that he could lose to some second rate jobber like the Hurricane, but that was exactly what was happening. He would have begged for his life if he could have, but as his life slipped away from him ass he could do was cry.

Batista watched panicked as Shane got up several moments later wondering what just happened and how in the hell they were going to fix it. "Pick him up Batista and follow me," Shane ordered undoing the bed so that Batista could pick up the bulky dead body and follow him to a nearby cliff.

Quickly Shane left the cabin grabbing his long walking stick and headed off down the trail. Batista, who had pulled up his pants, hurried after him carrying The Game over his shoulder. "Shane what if someone finds the body?" Batista asked worried but Shane just continued on not responding. When they got to the cliff, Shane looked over and smiled then pointed. "Pick him up over your head and toss him over," Shane ordered. Batista nodded and lifted up the dead body as Shane walked away from the cliff. He never expected the blow to the back of his head that sent him and The Game flying over the edge.

Shane giggled and bounced as he watched Batista fall screaming his name. Shane though just waved goodbye calling, "Say hi to Jeffy and Edge for me when you get down there!" Then still giggling he turned away making his way back to the cabin muttering, "fucking pansy… I hate pansies." Once at the cabin he made a fire with the walking stick in the fireplace as he washed down every surface and item in the one room cabin. "Some day they'll all learn who the real master of the game is."

The End!