Wolverine

Wolverine hung there, naked, bound in adamantium shackles, in the place called the Danger Room, finally living up to its full potential.

His body had fully recovered from the day before, and his blood and the flesh removed back then had now been cleaned from the floor, leaving the room spotless but no less dangerous. He had no more bruises, no more welts, no more scars, no more burning. Just a fresh body for his next mutant mistress to play with, destroy. He'd once thought his regenerating ability was a blessing, but they'd shown him it was a curse.

He wondered who it would be today. Would it be Storm with her electric shocks? Dazzler with her infernal disco music? Would it be Emma who'd control him in every way, making him turn his claws on himself, cutting off his manhood once more, just so she could tell him the same old ex-man joke once again.

Did it really matter? It was relentless. Sometimes he wished he could die, but they'd never be that merciful. It was like Groundhog Day for him, but with pain and screaming topped with more pain and screaming.

Then, the door opened. Despite himself, he looked, and despite himself, he could feel the excitement below, his claws not the only thing going 'Snikt!'

He wanted her so much, but wished it had been anyone but her. She was the best there was at what she did, and what she did was hurt him, in oh so many ways.

It was going to be another long day.