SCARLET, SONJA, SPIRAL, SILVER Chapter 11

Rogue looked at herself in the full length mirror she usually used to make sure every inch of her skin was as safely covered as a hijabi’s. That wasn’t the case today. 

For sentimental reasons, she had kept the shredded uniform that she’d repurposed as an idle gesture at modesty while in the Savage Land. Isolated, without worry of her power being brought to bear on another human being, she’d for once dressed to show off her sensual body. Not that she’d had much choice, when all that was left of her green and yellow bodysuit was scraps.

There was the headband she’d worn to keep the sun out of her eyes. Other wrappings on her thighs and forearms, which she’d used to hold a few tools. She’d also fashioned a set of socks to protect her feet, but those had grown so sweaty by the time she was rescued that Rogue was happy to simply go barefoot as she revisited the occasion.

And then, the piece de resistance. The ragged green bra and tattered scraps of a top that had remained of her bodysuit, covering her famous D-cup breasts. She hadn’t even had that much left to cover her lower body, so she’d used a length of dinosaur hide as tough as leather to tie together the largest piece of her bodysuit she’d had left into a loincloth. It gave Rogue enough coverage to feel comfortable with herself, as a genteel Southern lady, but she was under no illusions that it covered as much as a good pair of shorts, or even bikini bottoms. One long stride and she’d practically flash the entire room. But in the privacy of her own quarters, Rogue didn’t see that as an embarrassment. It struck her instead as kind of… kinky!

The anticipation of sex had brought an excited flush to her face. Rogue liked the way she looked. She had a gorgeous figure and now, she let herself admire it—the lovely brown hair with the exotic stripe of white. The full, luscious lips made for sucking, even if only through a condom. 

Rogue smiled at herself, cupping her breasts in her hands, big and heavy, two firm melons with fat nipples evident through the two layers that covered them. They were pendulous, teardrop-shaped, but they only drooped enough to prove they were real. Moreover, whether naturally or because of her long years of going untouched, Rogue’s breasts were extraordinarily tender, always aching to be fondled and kissed, her nipples seemingly constantly erect and sensitive.

Rogue’s eyes traveled down the slope of her firm, taut belly, left uncovered by the few scraps of fabric that tried to clothe her long, lean body. With one hand, she drew aside the loincloth to reveal the reddish brown bush that covered her sex—an alluring wave of white running through it. With her other hand, she opened up her pussy lips to reveal the glistening pink inside herself. The part of her body that most wanted to be fucked.

That brought her to Gambit. That ol’ swamp-rat would probably love to see her like this and she might not mind it too much herself. More than once, Rogue had caught herself staring at his crotch—something he was happy to show off, always standing with his hips cocked or sitting with his legs open to show it off to excess. It made Rogue wonder what it would be like to fuck him. Remy LeBeau. Possibly the most annoying man on the X-Men. But she’d seen the way he looked at her breasts. The thought of that wily Cajun sucking at her nipples just like they needed…

For the longest time, Rogue had resisted buying a vibrator—it just seemed more ladylike to use her own hands, somehow—but at some point, she’d broken down and bought one and it’d been the best decision she’d ever made. Rogue went to her bed, where her little lover waited under the pillow. Her body tingled in all its beauty, its readiness. She’d watch herself in the mirror as she got off, thinking that if no one else could touch her, well, that just meant she was the only one allowed to touch herself.

***

Emma Frost had felt sorry for Rogue. She was young, beautiful, and all the signs pointed to her being a passionate lover, if it weren’t for her mutation. She’d felt so sorry for Rogue that she’d decided to make her the White Queen’s latest project. 

It was she who’d bought and given the vibrator to Rogue, clouding the memory in Rogue’s mind just so that Rogue wouldn’t be embarrassed. Then she’d worked to lower Rogue’s inhibitions, steadfastly making little psychic nudges and prods to get Rogue more comfortable with her sexuality. Emma wouldn’t think of asking for anything in return. She’d simply enjoy her work, looking in on Rogue as she experimented with her newfound sense of carnality, to make sure Rogue was getting all the enjoyment out of sex that any woman deserved.

Emma wore nothing as sexless as the white business suit that seemed so appropriate to Banshee’s conservative Catholicism. This kind of passionate release was more Hellfire Club anyway, so she dressed for the occasion—her tightest pair of white panties, her corset, the cape, the thigh-high boots. They all still fit and made her feel almost more sexy than she was: the perfect atmosphere for the ‘viewing party’ she was about to enjoy with the young, virginal Rogue. It was amazing how vulgar an expression ‘go fuck yourself’ was considered when to Emma’s eyes, what Rogue was about to do seemed quite beautiful.

As Rogue talked herself into it, responding well to Emma’s idea of putting on the outfit she’d so enjoyed flaunting herself in while in the Savage Land, Emma sat in her wingchair by the fireplace. She took a last sip of wine before downing her panties. That felt better—her thong had become too damn tight since the last time she’d worn it. It was possible that not wearing lingerie at all times had caused her standards to slip. She’d need to punish her personal trainer. Everyone knew that mutants barely seemed to age. Magneto had six-pack abs; there was no reason she shouldn’t still look twenty-one.

Do I really want to do this? Rogue was asking herself, now that she was slipping the tattered rags themselves onto her nude body. Maybe it is a sin—I could ask Kurt…

Emma leaned back and spread her legs, rolling her hands down to pull open her labia. The heat from the fire lapped at her open cunt like a feverishly hot tongue. It felt jaggedly pleasing, but at the same time soothing. Her tension and Rogue’s was coming to an end. Emma sent waves of her own relaxation, confidence, and sensuality into Rogue’s mind, lulling her into the arousal that was rightfully hers.

Together, they felt their sexuality heighten—both their pussies spread wide, clits stiffening. Emma probed with the tip of her finger; she’d put on a white satin glove for the occasion and just the silky touch of it seemed to electrify her sex. She stroked her quivering little clit with the pads of her fingers, working the burgeoning flesh to greater heights of sensitivity. She was getting excited so quickly that she might well be as inexperienced as Rogue.

“That’s it, Rogue,” Emma murmured aloud, echoing the erotic thoughts she was bombarding Rogue’s subconscious with. “Don’t think—not about anything except how good it feels. It feels so good, doesn’t it? Yes, Auntie Emma knows. It’s wrong, but it feels so right. And it’ll feel better and better the more you admit how much you like. Oh, yes, Rogue… just because you’re a virgin doesn’t mean you’re not a slut…”

Her pussy warmed, moistened, her juices trickling out of her all the way down to her leather boots. Emma ran her fingers along some of the hot cream and licked it from her glove, savoring the taste before she swallowed. Wonder if Rogue tastes so good… that’d certainly be one way to get around her mutant power!

Emma pushed the thought into Rogue’s mind, having her imagine Gambit drinking her juices from his half-gloved hands. As déclassé as the man was, Emma had to admit that appreciating such a louche lover was exactly the mood she wanted Rogue to be in.

As she shared Rogue’s fervent imaginings, Emma drove two fingers inside herself. Beautiful! There was nothing like a long, lazy play with her own hand, except maybe doing it to Rogue’s virgin cunt. Emma matched Rogue’s tentative pace, enjoying herself more and more as Rogue gave into desire, gave into the vibration of her little dildo. Together, they reveled in the throbbing of their aroused sexes. 

Emma closed her eyes, only seeing what Rogue saw. Beautiful. Beautiful! She wondered how receptive Rogue would be to a strap-on. That was another way around her power—and certainly something that Mystique’s daughter should be comfortable with!

Rogue heard her door unlocking itself, creaking open. A note of panic ran through her. She asked herself who could have a key besides herself, who would walk in on her without knocking, who would actually have the audacity to break into her room…

Then a calm quiet descended over Rogue’s thoughts, her body, even her lust. The door swung open and there was Jean, her friend Jean, her sister Jean, and Storm with her. 

“Come, Rogue,” Jean purred, wind flicking her hair even though they were indoors. “We have work to do.”

Emma’s eyes flew open—just when she was getting into rhythm! Emma yanked up her panties. What was that all about? Jean—good girl Jean, everyone’s favorite X-Woman—had just overridden Rogue’s consciousness, forcing her into obedience, the same way she’d apparently done to Storm. 

Not bothering to change out of her clothes, Emma walked stiffly to her door. With her labia engorged, her panties really felt like they were pressing down on her cunt. Emma almost felt like taking her panties off entirely, but she was a Frost, and traipsing around with nothing but a pair of boots on below the waist was just a little too sordid for her. But she had to know what Jean was doing.

Her wayward Black Queen now seemed to be acting as naughty as the Dark Phoenix ever had!

***

Jubilation Lee and Paige Guthrie sat on their twin beds, a nightstand between them, playing gin rummy in the soft cotton tees and roomy boxers they wore as pajamas. Lights out at Xavier’s was nine o’clock, and one of the few things they could agree on was how ridiculous that was, given that they’d saved the world, or helped save the world, or not destroyed the world, on more than one occasion. But they couldn’t even have a boy in their room. It was a joke.

“You’re not missing out on much,” Paige said, her accent floating in Kentucky mud. “Even if you could have a boy over, it’s not like you’d get anything to happen.”

“Oh yeah?” Jubilee asked. “What’ve you done, if you know so much?”

“A ton!” Paige sniffed. “More than you, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You’re just a little punk,” Paige said dismissively. “I’m a beauty queen.”

“Yeah, in Kentucky. You know how many white guys go for Asian women? And black guys like anime, so I could get one of those too.”

“Have you?”

“Yeah—yeah, I’ve had two guys at once.”

“Bull. How would you even do that?”

“I just let one guy do me from behind while the other guy’s in my mouth. It’s easy. I’m a natural.”

“Well, I’ve done stuff too!” Paige said defensively.

“Like what?”

“Cyclops,” Paige whispered naughtily. “In the classroom. Right on his desk.”

“Oh, and you’re saying I spew bullshit.”

“We did it!” Paige insisted. “He was a real pervert. Before we did it, he tied me up and made me suck him.”

“Yeah. Scott Summers. The Boy Scout. Get real.”

But Paige could see a flicker of doubt in Jubilee’s denial. “Have you ever been tied up?”

Jubilee shook her head. “No.”

“It’s the best.”

Jubilee narrowed her eyes a little. “You ever been fucked up the ass?”

Paige’s poker face slipped. Her expression curdled in disgust. “No! Eww! Of course not!”

“Well, it’s the best.”

“So you’ve done it?”

“Yeah. Synch put his finger in there.”

“That doesn’t count. And like Synch would touch you.”

“He would! Don’t underestimate my—“ Jubilee broke off, now noticing that Monet had entered the girls’ dormitory. She wore a housecoat over a crisp set of pajamas.

“I hate to interrupt your intellectual discourse,” Monet said, as crisp as her flawless fashion and untouchable make-up, even at this time of night, “but have either of you noticed that Ms. Frost is on the move?”

“On the move?” Paige repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She is no longer in her room. She is headed off to parts unknown. Obviously.”

“How would you know that?” Jubilee asked.

Monet sighed. “One keeps track of these things as a matter of—“

No longer listening to her, Jubilee turned back to Paige. “You think she’s going on a mission?”

“Without us?” Paige replied.

“That would fit with her overprotective, even condescending relationship to us,” Monet surmised. She went to sit on her own bed, legs crossed.

Jubilee, on the other hand, vaulted to her feet. “So you’re just going to let her go?”

“Intelligence quotients aside, she is our elder. We’re obliged to follow her instructions.”

“She hasn’t given us any instructions!” Paige argued. “And she might need our help!”

“Yeah, all she’s got is stupid telepathy,” Jubilee said, aiming a needling eyebrow at Monet. “She could use some real firepower.”

“You do realize I can fly, I’m invulnerable, I’m superstrong—“ Monet reeled off.

“So you agree Ms. Frost could use your—our—help,” Paige cut in.

Monet folded her arms. “It would stand to reason.”

“Okay then!” Jubilee cried. “Everyone who wears a supersuit, you’ve got one minute to get into it! I’m getting a pair of pants and my coat!”

Monet watched her dash for the closet. “I’d have thought she wore that coat to bed…”