SSSS Chapter 17

Betsy actually had an out of body experience. Rogue and Ororo grabbed her body—that of Kwannon—pulling her to the floor. Rogue stuck a firm thigh under Kwannon’s belly, making her hips rise into the air. Then it was no trouble at all for Ororo to drive a strap-on brutally into her naked cunt. Betsy heard her screaming, felt it as if from faraway, in a numb world as the big dildo rammed into her unready pussy. 

Kwannon swore and cried out in her native tongue, shaking and crying and yelling out, her ass bounding as the women held her down and thrust into her again and again, each stroke plunging deeper and harder into her sex. Kwannon’s voice soon failed her completely and she could only gasp and moan and keep, her body shaking in impotent resistance to the pleasure it was unwillingly feeling.

Betsy was unable to help her—help herself. She was in the Astral Plane, flat on her back, with Jean’s psychic projection straddling her face, smothering Betsy with a ginger pussy. She mocked Betsy as she forced the intensely aroused fervor of her cunt into Betsy’s face. The flames of the Phoenix burned Betsy’s hands, forcing her to hold them still at her sides if she didn’t want the fire to sear her to the bone.

“Yess, that’s it, Betts, that’s itttt!” Jean cooed as she used Betsy, giving off the same pleased sighs that Ororo and Rogue were as they fucked Betsy’s Asian body. Then the flames were women—other Jeans straddling her hands, forcing their cunts onto her fingers. Their pussies melted onto Betsy’s hands, quivering around the touches Betsy couldn’t resist giving them.

“Jean, stop, no, don’t, stop!” Betsy cried unevenly, all the words blurring together. Feeling Kwannon’s sensations was like the rush of a drug, dulling Betsy’s senses when she needed them most, dragging her into pleasure. They were fucking her and Kwannon liked it, the slut, she loved it!

“Betsy?” Scott cried, running for the cabin—Betsy could see his psyche moving through the immaterial walls, his worry and concern jumping ahead of him. He had the wood-chopping axe in hand. “Betsy, are you alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” Jean called back to him, amplifying her word with psychic forces. Betsy could see her power rolling out of her mind like physical sound waves roiling through the whole psychic plane, almost ripping it. “Go back to chopping wood. Just keep chopping wood, dear, as long as you can. We’ll take care of Betsy. We’ll give her all the fucking she can handle…”

In the real world, Jean spread Betsy’s thighs. Her own phallic hardness touched to the sphincter of Betsy’s ass. She pushed it in until the anus weakened—yielded. In the physical plane, her voice assaulted Betsy’s ears. “Open sesame,” she crooned mockingly.

Grunting, she rammed it deep into Betsy’s ass, fucking her without any mercy. She slammed her hips into Betsy’s splayed buttocks, burying the strap-on into her bowels and laughing as she thrust home.

Betsy screamed as her body was assaulted on all sides—Kwannon made airtight by the dildos of Ororo and Rogue and Jean, while on the astral plane, she was literally mindfucked by Jean, her cries of incensed pleasure muffled by Jean’s pussy. 

It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good. That actually made it worse, how wonderful all the degradation and debauchery felt despite it not being Betsy’s choice. She’d wanted to seduce Scott, but now, just to make a point, Jean was making her come harder than she ever had with him. She was making Betsy enjoy being slapped around, thrown down to the floor, pawed and groped and penetrated. 

And as much as Betsy hated it, Kwannon enjoyed herself, that perverse flesh loving what was happening to it as much as Jean loved fucking Betsy’s face, giving her overwhelming rushes of feminine nectar that filled Betsy’s taste buds with the sweetness of its flavor. It was like she was trying to addict Betsy to it.

The gangbang went on for well over an hour. They traded which holes they fucked with their oversized dildos, they made Betsy pleasure them with her tongue, suck her own juices from the shafts of their strap-ons. And all the while, Scott chopped wood as if in a dream, oblivious to Betsy’s cries as the orgy went on and on…

But while Jean might’ve been too busy to deal with him, someone else wasn’t…

***

“Ohh, Scott,” Emma enunciated, leaning back in the Cerebro chair, not even caring that the helmet was ruining her perm. “What an unimaginative wife you’ve been cursed with. Here you have a perfectly good dragon lady throwing herself into your bed and instead of appreciating what fun she might have, all Jean can do is be tiresomely protective. And now she’s revenging herself with some first-year bondage fantasy. How tawdry. How tedious. Where’s the romance, Scott?… that’s what you deserve… romance…”

At the entrance to the Cerebro chamber, Paige gawked at what was going on. “What is she doing?” she asked in wonderment, and got Jubilee covering her mouth for her trouble.

“That’s what we’re trying to see!” Jubilee said, craning her head for a better look as Paige fought to un-gag herself. She could just about make out what the monitors attached to Cerebro were showing…

Monet, meanwhile, had the good fortune to be able to piggyback on the thought waves Emma was ‘thoughtlessly’ broadcasting, surreptitiously joining in on the fantasy Emma was living out. For once, she decided not to lord her superiority over Jubilee and Paige. Best to let them occupy themselves as childishly as they liked. She would enjoy herself much more thinking of Scott…

***

Scott had a formidable will and force of personality, but Emma wasn’t trying to attack him. She approached him at an angle, subtly twisting his subconscious with urges he already possessed, fantasies he himself enjoyed.

She summoned up a cool, romantic evening—a full moon looking down on a gorgeous pastoral landscape, a plantation house in the distance for them to retire to, but out here, simply the tall grass, the weeping willows, and a babbling brook to provide a boundary. Keeping out the rest of the world and giving them their privacy.

And because it was a dream, she made Scott naked. He no more noticed than he would having three eyes or six fingers, but Emma certainly appreciated seeing his naked body bathed in the silver moonlight. She couldn’t take her eyes off his limply stirring cock, hanging promisingly down to almost his knees. Emma couldn’t imagine it would take too much work to get that prick nice and hard and deep inside her—belonging to her as anything of such fine quality should.

A dry twig snapped under her heel. As good as Emma looked naked, she’d hardly deprive Scott of seeing one of her magnificent ensembles. Completely unabashed, she went forward to face him. She wore a white mesh top, a white skirt to top her long legs, and white stockings. The top was sheer enough to show off she wasn’t wearing underwear and the skirt was short enough to do the same thing. 

“Good evening, Scott,” she purred, but not in her own voice. Although she retained her fashion sense, she ‘dressed’ herself in Jean’s body. She didn’t need him to lust after her specifically, after all. He wasn’t a project. More like a wine tasting. She would enjoy the flavor, then spit it out.

“Jean? What’re you doing out here?” Scott asked, not seeming to notice that he was naked or that Emma was eying his prick. Nor that the sight of it was starting to make Emma’s sex churn. He truly was wasted on Jean if she hadn’t trained him to use that monster on her at every opportunity.

“Jean? Scott, it’s me. Madelyne.” As easy as it would be to play-act being Scott’s lovey-dovey new bride, Emma enjoyed the challenge of using the memory of his first wife against him. 

It would have him more off-balance than simply enjoying marital bliss with the love of his life… and she wanted to see what Scott was like when he wasn’t so straitlaced. 

“Madelyne? I thought…”

“That I was Jean? Yes, I know. But she’s gone, Scott. You have to accept it. I’m not her. But that doesn’t have to be a tragedy. Jean was a good girl. I’m whatever you want me to be… whatever you want me to do…” She smiled at him, and though her face was that of Jean Grey and Madelyne Pryor, the smile was pure Emma. Pure sex. “Show me what you want. What you couldn’t do with Jean. What you can do with me.”

Scott was in no way used to any of the women in his life being like this—so assertive, yet so submissive at the same time. Offering herself to him absolutely whorishly. He reached out to her, caressing her freckled cheeks, the slightly off smile, the eyes that weren’t exactly right but that were beguiling all the same.

Then his hands went atop her head. He pressed down.

Emma dropped to her knees and took Scott’s cock in her hands. She could tell Scott wasn’t used to fucking anywhere but in the bedroom, much less outdoors. She would show him what he was missing in more ways than one. “Just think of this as a picnic, darling… I’m going to have a little something to eat…”

She pulled his manhood to her lips and kissed it. The response was instant; his member powerfully stiffening already. Emma felt a thrill go through her body. Scott certainly was proving fun to play with. Could it be that Jean had never indulged in any dirty talk with him? What a waste for a psychic—you’d think she’d know exactly what to say.

Emma took all of him into her mouth and gently sucked. Scott moaned softly, unable to hold back his appreciation. The White Queen didn’t need telepathy to know he was loving every second of it. She ran her pink tongue all over his length as he got firmer and longer. Finally, Scott was too big to contain. She slipped back, his shaft sliding out of her soft, trembling lips until she was at the very end of his length, her mouth wrapped around his engorged knob.

The wild smacking noises she made with her lips slurping at his cockhead filled the night air. But what seemed even louder was how hard Scott was holding onto her head, his arm muscles bulging, his knuckles white with tension. Emma didn’t mind. She couldn’t control her lust either. She had to have every single inch of that delicious cock, whether she used her throat or her cunt to get it.

“Keep going,” Scott husked out, his orders never sounding more desperate. His hands laced through Emma’s hair, as lustrous as ever, only red instead of blonde. 

He pulled her mouth onto her cock. He wouldn’t let her stop now. Not when his cum was so hot in his balls, when his shaft was quivering from not being touched. He needed to fuck those beautiful lips of hers until they burned with the friction of how badly he needed her. He needed to show her mouth how much he loved it with every drop of semen in him.

“Fuck,” Scott moaned, “this is too much—keep sucking, damn it, don’t stop!”

Emma didn’t. Her lips tightened around his cock in a tight ring, her tongue caressing his cockhead with wet, rough strokes as fiery as Emma’s hair. She stuffed her tongue against his tip, tasting his precum and getting hotter than ever. His prick was at rigid attention, the skin pulled taut. His entire length was virile, ready to fuck, and Emma wouldn’t let it go for her weight in diamonds. This was her erection; she was going to make use of it.

Emma sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing with all the suction she was giving Scott. Her tongue swirled all over his purple cockhead, robbing him of his strength until Scott couldn’t stand up anymore. He reached out to lean his weight onto a nearby tree but lost none of his enthusiasm for the blowjob he was getting.

“More!” he demanded. “Suck the cum right out of my balls!”

Emma turned her temporarily emerald eyes upward, meeting Scott’s gaze. He couldn’t deny her the eye contact even through his sunglasses. Her look let him know exactly how much she was enjoying every taste she got of his male essence. The White Queen rolled her tongue all around his glans, then worked her lips over his collar. Tightening her jaw, she lightly drew her teeth into the stiff flesh of Scott’s erection.

He groaned, but the pain was quickly erased from his face when she moved down his shaft, soothing the hurt with her ruby red lips circling the tender bite marks she’d left on him. His seething cockhead touched the roof of her mouth, slid around to find the opening of her throat. Emma swallowed hard. His manhood plunged into her gullet.

Even with her experience, Emma started to gag. Scott was quite excessively hung and she’d gotten his member so stiff it was throbbing like a drum being struck. The White Queen moved her head around, still slyly eying Scott’s expression, letting him know he could damn well choke her with his hard cock and she’d still love it. It was enough to make her wonder if the real Madelyne—or Jean, for that matter—knew enough to appreciate what a big prick their Boy Scout carried.

She moved a bit, fixing his manhood in her mouth so that it had a straight shot down her throat. When she gulped, her stirring throat massaged his shaft. Emma gulped many times as she moved her lips down to Scott’s balls. His cock surged with cum, but he didn’t release. Scott was as determined to enjoy himself as she was to pleasure him.

But first, she had to breathe again. Emma’s throat gurgled as she carefully rearranged his fat cock in her gullet. She panted harshly through her nostrils to suck the air into her lungs. This turned Scott on even more, her hot exhales blowing into his pubic thatch, circling his balls in an intimate caress. When Emma looked to the left and right, she could see Scott’s hands at his sides, squeezed into tight balls of suppression. He had taken them off her head before he could cave her skull in.

Her tongue snaked out past even his thick shaft, pressing into his hairy scrotum. Scott trembled with the fight to keep from coming; Emma felt it rattle her teeth. She eagerly tongued his balls until Scott’s shoulders were heaving, his breath coming in gulping sobs—it both pained and pleasured him to want to come so bad when his iron discipline kept him from doing so.

“Yes, Maddie, that’s how I like it! Lick all over my balls—taste that musk I’m going to shove down your throat!”

He didn’t have to tell her, but Emma smiled around his cock to hear him say so anyway. She was getting a huge charge out of having her stalwart leader give orders about how she should suck him off. To stop now would be to rob herself of the most decadent enjoyment she’d had in ages. That Emma would never do.

She sucked down the tiny drop of bittersweet precum that beaded at the tip of Scott’s prick. She hadn’t realized he was so close to coming. With Emma’s skill, she could finish him off with ease. Feel his cum blazing into her mouth, salty and delicious and hot with all his lust for her. Emma wanted that, but not yet. When she indulged herself, she did so sumptuously. 

First, she wanted to feel even more of Scott’s hot, hard cock filling her throat. She wanted to taste his precum, the very strain of him stopping himself from spurting right into her gullet. She wanted to smell his balls’ musk when they were absolutely stuffed with cum, all of it for her. 

Her tongue danced out to his scrotum again, licking through his sweaty hair, batting around his testes. With the tip of her tongue, she could feel the cum roiling inside. She’d have Scott’s balls positively bloated, bursting at the seams before he came in her mouth.

And Emma wanted him to come in her mouth. She absolutely wanted to taste his seed; swallow it again and again and again until she’d had all she could stomach. And if Scott was still coming, she’d take it all over her face. The fact that Scott had lasted more than a minute being mouthed by her—being throated—meant he deserved to have his cream displayed on her face, even if it was only a dream.

Emma was so intent on blowing Scott—and Scott, naturally, was equally intent on not climaxing—that neither of them noticed that their shared dream had a third party. 

Monet stood there, and even though she liked to affect having seen it all, her lips still gaped slightly as she watched her teacher sucking off the X-Men’s leader.