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A Touch of Hellfire	By : superbang Category: X-men Comics > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 3541 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A Touch of Hellfire
- 2-The end of the begining.
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Warning:

This story is for adults only! The story has strong sexual and violent content. It also contains offensive language. If such content makes you feel uncomfortable, or you are not old enough according to the law, the author would suggest that you read no further.

Disclaimer:

All of the characters in this story are the property of Marvel Comics. The author makes no claim of ownership on these characters. It is a parody, written for entertainment and not profit. If you wish to make money off of Marvel, buy stock. I did.
Feedback is always welcome at superbangjason@yahoo.com

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[This story is a prequel to Hellfire Ascendant.]

A Touch of Hellfire

Charles Xavier put down his quill and rubbed his tired eyes. The candlelight was beginning to strain his aging sight. Soon writing correspondences at night would be out of the question. His mind was one of the strongest ever, but his body was beginning to fall apart. The irony made him smile sardonically.

He looked about the room, watching the candlelight dance off the polished surface of his study. Everything was immaculate, tasteful. He had read every volume on his shelves, even written a few. The bookcases were stuffed with knowledge from floor to ceiling. The decorations were artistic and current with the modern style, promptly changed by the staff with each season. Above his desk was a large map, the globe bisected and spread to show as much detail as possible. On it he had marked with ink and pen the places he found each of his students, his treasures, his legacy to the world. The American Colonies and Europe were especially marked. The unexplored regions of Africa, Asia and South America were mostly blank. He stared at this map for hours, meditating on where the next of his children would be found.

If there is a tomorrow, that is, and a Charles Xavier to find them.

He removed the powdered wig from his head, placing it on the bust of Augustus that stood next to his writing desk. He rubbed the smooth pate of his naked head, trying to push the stress away. The next few days were going to be eventful, to say the least.

Treason did not come easy to him. It was weighing heavily on his mind. For the hundredth time, he assured himself it was necessary. Progress does not stop for anyone.

He picked up his quill and noticed the white curly wig sitting on the marble visage of long dead Caesar. A laugh escaped him, drowning out the crackling fire. The wig on the bust was comically fitting to his situation, a useless frill on a man of stone.

There was a quiet tapping on the door. Charles regained his composure, reaching out with his mind and greeted his visitor, "Enter." He did not turning away from his letter, "Welcome Jean."

Jean Grey closed the door behind her, after taking a final glance into the hallway just to be sure that no servants had seen her. She exhaled and leaned her forehead against the oaken door. The stress was weighing heavily on her as well. "Can I get you a drink, Charles?"

"Brandy, thank you." He scrawled quickly on the page, trying to finish before the inevitable conversation began. He listened for the sound of Jean�s shoes on the hardwood floor, gauging about how much time he had. Hurriedly he finished his thought as the glasses tinkled and the liquor poured. Charles had finished signing his name by the time she was beside him.

Charles looked up from his page. She held the drink out with an expectant look in her eyes. She was stunning, in many ways the greatest creature ever born. Her body was young and strong, with a pronounced sexuality that was obvious and inescapable. Her flame red hair was pulled tightly into a bun. Her face was gorgeous, almost beyond description. The large, frilly dress could not subdue the beauty of the woman inside it. Of all the young people he trained, she was the most spectacular. A question seemed to quiver on her lips, but she would never speak it without permission.

In many ways that was the key. Her power was titanic, her body perfect, her mind sharp, but her demeanor was submissive. She had found that the greatest joy in her life was to serve. Charles Xavier was lucky enough to demand her unbridled respect.

"You have a question Jean?" He asked taking the offered glass, "please speak freely."

Her face softened instantly, "Please forgive me sir. I�m only-" She bit her lip, thinking of the best way to express her emotions. "Over the past seven years I have served the Hellfire loyally. Yesterday was my jubilation� my seven-year servitude is over."

Xavier nodded, he was well aware of the importance of that date.

Jean looked at the floor, trying to imagine the future. "Scott has asked me to marry him."

A smile spread across Xavier�s face. "Jean, that�s wonderful-"

She looked up at him, a look of pain, one like he had never seen before. "Lord Howlett has asked as well."

Xavier was a little stunned. This was an unforeseen complication. Jean was of a lower station than a landed lord like James Howlett. His offer of marriage was unusual, but not unheard of. For most women the choice would be obvious, but Jean was not like most women. "So you are torn between the two?"

Jean turned away from him, "The two?" She crossed the expanse of the study, staring into the flames flickering in the fireplace. "In polite society a woman has very few options. The King�s law forbids common women from buying property. While I have money I have no house or land to settle." She looked over her shoulder at him, a curse in her eyes. "I suppose the salary of my years of servitude only increase my value as a bride."

Charles swallowed the contents of his glass, not looking forward to a debate about sexual politics. He stood, something his aging legs seemed to like doing less and less, and crossed the room to stand beside her. "Changing the world is a gradual process my dear. Such things take time."

"Time?" Again she turned from him and walked over to the moonlit window. "Time decreases my value. A woman is not beautiful forever."

Charles stared into the fire, watching the wood pop and crackle. He heard her dress ruffle, an unconscious habit she�d had since childhood. "So which one will you choose, if any?"

"Neither." She whispered. "They are not worthy."

Charles raised an eyebrow and turned to his former student.

Jean�s incalculable power swirled around her, pulling the very molecules of the ornate dress apart and reorganizing them to fit her whim. By the time she�d taken a step the noblewoman dress was gone, replaced by a red leather corset and panties. Her feet and hands became wrapped in opera gloves and thigh-high boots. Red leather encircled her delicate throat, the single steel ring shining in the light.

"Seven years, Charles." She purred slowly strutting toward him. "Seven years and not once did you send for me."

Charles felt himself tremble. He put his empty glass on the mantle and tried to stand firm. "This outburst is inappropriate Jean. Clothe yourself, you�re a proper woman now."

Jean ignored him, stopping inches away from his face. Neither flinched. "Is that a concern? Being a proper woman?"

Xavier hardened his mind, feeling the tingle of her trying to slip inside. "Come out with it Jean. What is this really about?"

Frustrated she turned away, swaying her hips as she crossed the room toward the liquor cabinet. "It�s about the choices we make Charles, and why we make them." She pulled the stopper from a bottle of cognac and poured herself a snifter. "I never had much of a choice Charles." Her face melted, the expression becoming one of innocence. "When you found me I couldn�t block out the thoughts of anyone around me. I thought they were all my own. It�s a wonder my parents didn�t throw me in that sanitarium earlier." She lifted her glass to him in a mock salute. "Then Charles Xavier, White Bishop of the Hellfire Club came and found me. Taught me to block out the voices and think for myself. I regained my sanity and learned to control my gifts." She drank down the cognac in one swallow and continued. "You were everything to me Charles. You taught me to eat, to read, to walk on my own." Her voice went cold, "And then you brought me here."

Xavier stood a little straighter, hardening his resolve. "I did what was best for you. You needed discipline-"

"And I got it." Jean finished with a sting of menace in her voice. "You convinced me to sign myself over to the Hellfire Club." She ran the leather of her glove against her naked face, feeling the indescribable sensation of leather on flesh. Her eyes closed at the memory. "And they disciplined me, Charles. I did things I never thought I could do and learned to love them for it." Her eyes opened and met his. "And not once in seven years did you send for me. Countless nights I spent in the beds of every other member of this society and not once did the White Bishop send for me." A silent tear rolled down her cheek. "Do you know how much that hurts?"

The shock washed over him and he went pale. "Jean�" he stammered. "You�re like a daughter to me."

Her tear stained face went expressionless. "You took me in, taught me everything I know and sold me to a den of sin." She swallowed. It barely registered on her expressionless face. "I wondered for endless nights why you didn�t send for me. What had I done wrong? What could I do better?"

Xavier shook his head and dropped onto the couch. "That�s not what I wanted you to learn here, Jean. I wanted you to learn about power, why it must be wielded responsibly." He saw her for what she was and his stone-faced expression never changed. "I wanted you to become stronger."

She nodded, meeting his gaze. "I haven�t." Jean Grey sank to her knees. "All I�ve learned is love the whip." Again her power surrounded her, rearranging, eradicating her clothing. The only things that remained were the leather bracelets around her writs and ankles, the leather choker around her neck. On each hung a steel ring, waiting to be chained.

Charles looked at her for a split instant, then ashamed, he looked away. "I am sorry, Jean. This is not what I intended."

Jean glared back, anger in her eyes. "I am as you made me!" She spat. "What choice do I have?"

There was a long silence, only punctuated by the pops and crackles from the fireplace. Neither could look at the other. An air of foreboding hung heavily. Jean laughed. It was a haunting sound in the silence. Charles looked at her in confusion. Jean looked at him in elation.

"I love you." Jean said flatly. "I love you and the only way I know how to show it is to be your slave."

Charles tried to stand. Jean shoved him back down with the force of her mind. She crawled towards him like a cat stalking prey. "I need to be retrained. This is the perfect opportunity."

"What are you doing?"

"Buy me, Charles." Jean rested her chin on his knee. "Charles Xavier, I offer you a contract. Seven years of indentured servitude for 700 pounds sterling, one hundred a year for seven years. In return I will serve you, hand and foot, day and night, body and soul."

Xavier tried to look away but her eyes were too enchanting. He always wanted this, secretly he desired her. It was only natural. She was young and quite beautiful. He was older and in a position of power. He always pushed the though out of his mind. He did not permit himself to think such things. But now she was a free woman, completely emancipated and offering him a standard business contract. It was tempting, and very affordable.

"Please Charles," she spoke with infinite wanting in her eyes. "Please buy my contract. I wish to serve no other."

"I don�t want a slave." Charles replied flatly, "I would require a lady of grace and dignity."

"If it pleases you." Jean responded with a well-worn expression. As a slave to the Hellfire club, she was forbidden from saying the word "no". To the members of the club, especially its inner circle, nothing was taboo. The slaves would perform whatever act their superiors desired because that was their purpose, since they could never refuse without extreme punishment to follow. "If it pleases you," became the unofficial expression of protest. It showed the subjects displeasure, but resolve to serve.

Charles Xavier found his own resolve diminishing. Jean crawled into his lap, one arm around his back and the other hand caressing his cheek. Her naked ass pressed against the growing hardness in his pants.

"I think I�ve found a compromise, milord." Jean smirked in her sultry way. She nodded towards his desk, a piece of parchment unrolled and an unseen hand dipped the quill into the inkwell. It began writing of its own volition. Jean whispered into his ear, "I will be your lady, Charles. I will be a fit and consummate companion, a woman of wealth, grace, and dignity. There is nothing wrong with an older gentleman marrying a younger woman. I will make a fine bride for you."

"This is not how proper women act." Charles said sternly.

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "But that is the beauty of it Charles. By day I will be the perfect wife for you." She adjusted herself, straddling his lap with the knees. She cupped one of her large breasts and her mouth formed a silent moan of ecstasy. "By day I will be your wife Charles, but at night I will be your slave. A queen and pawn depending upon necessity and the occasion."

His expression went blank.

Jean pressed her advantage, writhing against him. "I promise to love, honor and cherish; so long as you promise to use, order and discipline. You will have someone to carry on your name a legacy, to complete your great work, long after your time is done. In time the name of Xavier will be worshipped and feared." The fire reflected in her eyes, "Let this be my greatest service to you."

"Jean I�" he stammered, unable to find and objection.

With a thought, the parchment and quill floated over to him. Jean had written a contract, legal and perfectly binding. The only flaw he found was the lack of a completion date.

"This contract doesn�t terminate."

Jean laughed, "That makes it more binding than marriage."

"I�ll need a ring."

Jean effortlessly ripped the steel ring from the slave collar around her throat. She held it in her palm and it floated, rotating in the air. The gold rims of Charles glasses sprang to life, a stream of fire poured from the fireplace and a crystal decanter pulverized and swirled around the ring. There was a brilliant flash and something new fell into her hand. She gave it to Charles.

Holding it up to the light he saw tiny silver and gold chains intertwine. The stone was a perfect bit of crystal, purple and multifaceted. There was nothing like it on this Earth.

"It�s beautiful, unique, like you." A broad smile crossed his face. She was his perfect pupil, the only one who learned every lesson he�d taught her. Tonight, she passed her final test. "Normally I would wait until after our treason tomorrow, but for now I say we consummate this relationship."

"We�ll need a priest." Jean spoke, excitement flashing in her eyes.

"I am a bishop," Charles said with a wry smile.

The next few moments were tense and excruciating. Jean knelt before him. He lifted her hand and placed the ring on her finger. "I do." She whispered, binding herself for life. Charles signed her contract, binding her for eternity.

He pulled her body close to his, "In the eyes of God, the Devil, and all the Saints of Hellfire; I now pronounce us man and wife."

With that he kissed her, sealing their deal and the fate of the world.
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A Touch of Hellfire