Raised By Wolves update

Betsy Braddock had her finger on the pulse of the Xavier Institute. With Xavier dead, Jean dead again, and Emma being Emma, she considered herself the authority on the mental well-being of the student body. A week ago, her casual sifting through the psychic landscape of the school had revealed to her an intense sexual pleasure coming from the normally closed off and reserved Laura Kinney. It was enough to make her envious and she had to wonder where such a thing was coming from. 

Being on a mission at the time, she’d had to shelf her concerns, but on several following nights, she’d felt the same intense peaks coming from Laura’s mind. Someone was bringing Laura to rapture, and on a consistent basis, the lucky girl. Betsy just had to touch base with her.

After all, maybe he had a brother.

She dressed to detract as much as possible from her warrior nature, which might put Laura on edge. That meant emphasizing her sexuality. Betsy wore a semi-translucent sundress that was cut low on her sizable breasts and ran high over her long legs. She extravagantly made up her face despite it not needing any help. 

With the flower print on the sheer silk of her dress, Betsy ended up looking like a high-priced escort with a floral theme, but she doubted she had to worry about Laura falling for her. With the level of sexual satisfaction Laura was experiencing, she wouldn’t stray in a hundred years.

When she went to Laura’s room, the girl opened the door, but it wasn’t in the Loganish clothes Betsy would’ve expected. Laura was wearing a decidedly sexual maid’s outfit, with a white apron, white cap, and a tight black dress that ended just below the beginnings of her black stockings. The apron did more to preserve her modesty than the hem did. Betsy was unable to stop herself from eying Laura’s curvaceous legs down to her high-heeled pumps.

“Hello, ma’am,” Laura said, sulkily polite. “Won’t you come in?”

Betsy followed her in to find a laughing Kitty Pryde. Laura flushed with embarrassment, having Kitty’s eyes on her as she went to get out the silverware and set the table. 

“Let me explain,” Kitty said. “Laura was, well, bad today, so she has to serve dinner as punishment.”

“Alright,” Betsy said, ill at ease. “And you decided to go through with that even though you were having company?”

“If she didn’t want to suffer the consequences, she shouldn’t have been bad,” Kitty said. “Isn’t that right, Laura?”

Laura went scarlet. “Yes, mistress.”

Betsy casually scanned her surface thoughts and was shocked by what she found boiling under the surface. She would’ve expected the usual animal instincts and propensity for violence, but instead there was a frisson of taut pleasure. Laura enjoyed being ordered around, the aggressive denial she felt as Kitty curbed her desires leading to a build-up of feeling that could only be followed by ecstasy. 

The process would surely break down whatever reservations she had—very much the kind of thing Emma would’ve done, or that Betsy had tried to do with Scott. The breaking of taboos adding incredibly to the physical pleasure of the final gratification. Only Kitty was doing it with no telepathy whatsoever. 

Perhaps, after her long mentorship with Logan, she simply knew Laura on a level that Laura didn’t even know herself. Hadn’t Logan’s relationship with Jean been defined by longing, delayed gratification, and denial? Perhaps that was more satisfying, more human, than the animalistic rutting and gluttonous vices that Logan usually went for.

They discussed it over dinner, as best they could with Laura mortifyingly standing at the ready, putting Betsy on edge. She served them throughout the meal, looking sullen and ill-tempered, but she didn’t make any mistakes.

“Laura needs control,” Kitty explained. “More than that, she needs pain. It seems to focus her.”

Talking about Laura as if she weren’t there seemed to add to the frustrated arousal Laura felt. Betsy could feel her throbbing with an angry lust just below the surface.

“Logan has the X-Men, he has all the ninja stuff,” Kitty continued, making some chop-suey gestures. “But Laura just has math problems and the Danger Room. She needs something real.”

“And that’s sadism? Masochism?” Betsy asked.

“Of course. Laura loves being spanked, she loves being handcuffed to the bed.” Kitty smiled at Laura as Betsy felt her need going crazy. As embarrassed as Laura was by Kitty outing her to Betsy, it only brought her desire closer to the surface. “I think it’s the animal thing. Logan’s a man, so of course he wants to mount, to dominate. Laura’s a woman. Deep down, she’s submissive. A dominant woman—an alpha female—is a human quality. It must confuse Laura’s instincts a little. Makes it a bit kinky. But at the end of the day, she enjoys having something bring out the beast in her, without any bloodshed, any hurting. Except in her, and she heals.”

Laura brought out coffee for the two of them, afterwards winding her hands together before her groin. It was all she could do not to please herself. Kitty had set her up so her instincts rubbed directly against her civilized orders. The contrast kept making her hornier and hornier. Betsy was actually a bit jealous despite Laura’s frustration and mortification. Imagine someone breaking down her British reserve like that…

“Thank you, Laura,” Kitty said, taking her coffee. “Now, clear the table.”

“No!” Laura barked. “Do it yourself!”

She removed herself to the kitchen, like Logan storming off rather than going on a berserker rage. Betsy shook her head. She couldn’t believe this was some sort of sex game. She was half-prepared to defend herself from a rampaging X-23.

“Come back here, doggy,” Kitty ordered. “You know what will happen if you don’t.”

“Fuck you!” Laura roared from the kitchen. “I had to serve, not clean up your mess! And you didn’t tell me we were having company either!”

“I don’t need your permission to fuck your face with a strap-on,” Kitty said. “Why would I need permission to have a guest over?” She turned apologetically to Betsy. “Wait here. Sometimes you have to discipline even the tamest pets.”

Betsy sat there, horrified and excited, as Kitty went into the kitchen. She heard a slap and Laura cried out, before whimpering as Betsy registered the pain pouring over Laura’s mind. She had hoped for it, longed for it, and now got it. The price would be satisfying Kitty’s sadomasochistic desires.

Kitty dragged an unresisting Laura back into the dining room, her French Maid outfit torn slightly at the neck, showing she wore a collar underneath. It had a tag reading SLUT hanging from it. Betsy looked down. Jesus.

Kitty forced Laura to stand at attention, wrenching her arms behind her back so they were crossed at the wrists. She didn’t bind them. Laura was expected to stand that way, quivering in impotent rage, as Kitty released her.

Betsy wanted to flee from this intimate, sexually charged scene, but she couldn’t move. She had to see more. And as she watched, Kitty spat in Laura’s face.

“Don’t you dare move,” Kitty said as the spittle ran down Laura’s cheek. “If you misbehave in front of our guest, your punishment will be ten times worse. If you’d been a good girl, I would’ve given you an orgasm by now, but the more you act out, the longer you’ll have to wait. And believe me, that wait will not be pleasant.” She looked at Betsy, her eyes on fire. “Watch her. If she moves, tell me.” And Kitty disappeared into the other room.

Betsy didn’t know what she would do if Laura moved. What was this becoming? A sex show staged for her benefit? A threesome, even? Perhaps even a legitimate spat. She didn’t know if she could rightly participate in Laura’s degradation—who was to say how healthy it was for her, even when Betsy felt Laura’s tightknit enjoyment coming off her in towering waves?

Fortunately, she didn’t have to decide just then, besides the decision not to leave. Laura stayed exactly where she was, letting Kitty’s spit trail down her face. In a few moments, Kitty returned, pushing some sort of apparatus into the room. It had a padded metal bar at waist height, with menacing straps and D-rings all over it, particularly around the base. It looked like someone could be tied to it in a variety of positions that a contortionist would envy.

“Cost me a pretty penny,” Kitty said to Betsy. “Do you think Laura appreciates having such a nice toy for when we play? No. Of course not. She wants to be just like her daddy, howling at the moon and running around all night.” Kitty tapped her palm against Laura’s cheek with such resounding impacts that they were almost slaps. “Not being a good doggy for her owner.”

She took her hand away and smeared it on her pants, having wiped away the spit she’d left on Laura’s face. It was the first caring gesture Betsy had seen from her, and it left Laura’s cheek flushed and red.

The added touch of affection brought the dominance into sharp relief for Betsy. She found herself trembling. “Maybe I should go—” she started.

“No!” Kitty said firmly. “Laura was a bitch to you as much as me. You have to see her be punished.” Kitty flicked Laura’s collar tag. “It’s what she deserves. She hates being seen as anything but a sexy badass killer, but that’s exactly what we’re going to show Betsy. What a little slut you are. How you cry when the pain starts. How it gets you off. She can read your mind, Laura. She can tell how wet you are just like I can smell it on you. But there’s all that psychic crap and then there’s seeing you come like a bitch in heat.”

Laura whimpered. It was enough to make Betsy break out in a cold sweat. She’d had no idea that anyone with a fraction of Wolverine’s toughness could mewl like that and it left her in a state of genuine shock, trembling from head to toe as she continued to breathlessly watch. Now she had to know what would happen. She had to see if Kitty could really dominate Laura as masterfully as she claimed.

Kitty left and returned. Betsy’s apprehension grew, as did her sick anticipation. Kitty held a leash and a thin wooden rod, four feet long and slender enough to be a fishing pole. 

Laura snapped at Kitty as she came closer, literally gnashing her teeth, but Kitty just slapped her like a disobedient child. 

“You’re only making things worse for yourself,” Kitty said as she hooked the chain to Laura’s collar. “The more you misbehave, the more you’ll have to make up for.”

“Fuck you!” Laura spat.

“You’ll have to ask nicer than that,” Kitty grinned as she tightened the collar around Laura’s neck, afterwards sticking two fingers under it to make sure she could breathe at least somewhat.

“I won’t beg for it no matter what you do, you cunt!” Laura’s eyes were alight with anger and fear, but there was a longing in her that Betsy didn’t need a bit of psychic power to feel.

Kitty set the cane down on the table. “You don’t have to concern yourself with my cunt just yet,” she said, pushing Laura face down over the bar. X-23’s dress rode over her thighs, displaying the tops of her stockings and her shapely thighs seemingly trapped inside the black mesh. “If I were you, I’d worry about what your mistress could strap to her lap.”

Betsy watched, hands white-knuckled in the skirt of her dress as Kitty secured the other end of the chain to the base of the bondage device. Then, using a set of attached manacles, she affixed Laura’s legs to the support of the bar she was bent over.

Laura was truly helpless now, unable to resist even if she wanted to. Her legs were bound to the sides of the device, forcing her long legs wide open. The chain attached to her neck pulled her head down far, so that her waist was pulled tightly against the bar, thrusting her pert ass out, its curves barely hidden by the hem of her undersized dress. Laura snarled and cursed, pulling at the chain with her hands, but Betsy noticed she didn’t extend her claws to cut through it.

“Actually, I don’t think you’ve earned being punished with a strap-on up the ass yet,” Kitty said, walking back to the table where the cane laid. She picked it up, tapping it against her shoulder like a swagger stick as she walked back to the struggling, swearing Laura. “I know you’d enjoy that too much. It’s going to be hard finding something to punish you with when you like being a bottom bitch so much.”

She was all smiles as she stopped behind the forcibly doubled over Laura. Very slowly she slid the tip of the cane up the back of Laura’s left leg, right up the seam of the stocking.

“Stop that! Don’t!” Laura cried, her hands swiping behind herself as she tried to push Kitty away.

“Tut, tut,” Kitty chided. “Do you want me to tie your hands down too? Is that what you want? I can put a muzzle on you too, Laura. Don’t think I won’t.”

At the thought of Laura with a muzzle on her—maybe even a ball gag—Betsy felt a potent stab of arousal go through her. She couldn’t explain it. But she watched closely as Laura relented, putting her hands down, letting Kitty do whatever she wanted.

Still using the end of the cane, Kitty slid the hem of Laura’s dress up over her ass, revealing her lacy panties and the black lines of her garters. Humming appreciatively, she tapped the tip on Laura’s right buttock, sending a ripple through the juicy flesh.

“Don’t fucking touch me! You fucking dyke!” Laura yelled, her ass jerking around as Kitty needled the cane’s tip into her round asscheek.

“Such language,” Kitty said. She reached out to run her fingertips over Laura’s curvy buttocks, caressing them through her black panties. Plucking the fabric between her thumb and forefinger, she pulled it out a little ways and then let it snap back to being skintight. “I think I’ll leave these on. They look so nice on you, Laura.”

“Go fuck yourself!” Laura hissed, her ass trembling at Kitty’s touch.

“You keep using that word. It must be a favorite.” Kitty ran her fingers down between Laura’s thighs. Her mound was clearly visible, bulging through the crotch of her panties, a damp spot over it that was spreading slowly through the thin material. Kitty swiped the pads of two fingers over it before taking them away and smelling her fingertips. “But I’m being rude to our guest. Betsy, would you like to take a whiff?”

Shocked beyond what she had ever thought possible, Betsy dropped back in her chair, feeling faint. She thought she’d been such a libertine, dressing up to put her voluptuous body on full display, throwing herself at Scott and any other man she desired without embarrassment. She’d had no idea what real debauchery was.

“Maybe later,” Kitty purred, and licked her fingertips clean. “Don’t move again or I’ll tie you to the fucking chair.”

Betsy sat there, her chest heaving, trying desperately to think. She was definitely a part of this now, like it or not—and she thought she liked it. She had no doubt that she could shut down Kitty’s mind, make a run for it, even outfight them both physically if she had to… but she didn’t know if she wanted to do any of those things. In fact, a part of her almost wanted to be tied up. Volunteer to be forced, just like Laura…

Kitty laid the cane against Laura’s tight ass as if measuring it. Laura cursed and even barked, her luscious lips twisted up with fury. Betsy watched in a panic as Kitty lifted the cane up in the air, held it there to loom over the scene, then swept it down to slash across Laura’s buttocks. The sharp crack it made rang through the room. Laura heaved against her bonds, howling, straining, choking herself in her struggle to get free.

“Fuck you, motherfucker!” Laura gurgled, a rip in her tiny black panties showing the thin red welt that Kitty had made on her flesh.

“Your very favorite word,” Kitty commented as she pulled the cane back again.