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Corruption Is Just Another Change of Perspective	By : Ksennin Category: X-men Comics > General Views: 31577 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or any Marvel characters and make no money from the publication of this story.

Chapter List
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As a girl, Sue had been a parent. Her father and mother had died young, but now before giving her a baby brother to care for. So, a teenage girl, she’d stepped into the gap. Washed his clothes, done his dishes, cut the crusts off his sandwiches. All while a part of her, and it fluctuated in size every day, saw the other girls who only had to worry about diets and clothes and boy bands; it screamed “Unfair! Unfair! Unfair!” And she couldn’t argue with it, not when Johnny got to be a kid and she had to be an adult.
She didn’t want to take it out on Johnny. He’d lost as much as she ever had. More; at least she had the memories of their parents. He barely had their faces. But still, the frustration piled up, just from Johnny being Johnny, and she… overcompensated. She went for him to go to sleep, at a 9 PM bedtime she was uncommonly strict about, and then she dug into her closet for the clothes he never saw her in. The leather. The red lace. The thin tops. And she went to the kind of clubs that probably shouldn’t have let her in and did the kind of things that she shouldn’t have done, yet couldn’t regret.
Boys (bad boys) called her Stormy, and hung off the puffs of smoke from every cigarette she burned. Tobacco or otherwise. She’d danced way too close with other girls’ boys, stealing them away, and sometimes stealing both. They weren’t called threesomes back then. Just ‘partying’. And that was about as gay as Susan had ever been.
Last night, she’d eaten out three women.
Sue had been under no illusions that ‘Stormy’ was the real her, anymore than she was ‘really’ June Cleaver. She was somewhere in-between. She loved both the danger and the safety, the day and the night; male and female (she thought ruefully). Then came Reed, and Ben, and Johnny too, in a way, the way he matured ever so slightly and fit into their little group, the dutiful son with Reed, the annoying little brother with Ben, playing the kind of tricks you never could with a sister. She’d found herself, in a way.
And, in another way, the birth of the Fantastic Four was a blessing on that account. Suddenly, she was both sex symbol and scientist, family member and Imaginaut, Susan Storm and the Invisible Woman. Getting married just confirmed it. She could have it all. The danger, the risk, the adventure, all with a home to come back to and a sweet husband and a family that loved her unconditionally.
Where had it all gone wrong?
Somewhere along the way, with Johnny and Ben forming their own little families and with the birth of her two amazing children—the fantasy had given way to routine. She had to mind Reed— with his dictatorial tendencies, his patrician outlook, the self-assurance that bordered on supremacy—as much as she ever had Johnny. She had to comfort Ben in his heartbreak, because the world just kept breaking the biggest heart she’d ever known. And Johnny… she actually envied Johnny. The way he seemed to dip into responsibility without it ever sticking. He was best friends with that spider fellow, but if it wasn’t convenient, that was alright, Peter could just find Daredevil and play with him. It was all so…
Something had happened to her, small but infuriating, and it just happened so much…

So she’d slipped back into her old routine. She’d been Stormy again, without even realizing it. The old double agent had come back to life as she went out with her friends for a night on the town, no idea what a night it would be. She’d stayed with Janet and Jen as they changed right before her eyes, showing her lusts she never could’ve imagined them possessing, then holding up a mirror for her to look into. Like the dance of the seven veils, her inhibitions had fallen. She would be present, but not look. She would look, but not stare. She would stare, but not touch. One by one, she had gotten out from under her vow to Reed, and by the time the coke was on her nose and a dildo was up her ass, she’d still thought of herself as Susan Richards. Was she? Had she ever been?
She’d gone back home, helped into her clothes by her newfound friends—co-conspirators. They’d washed her up and given her water for her hangover and Emma herself had given Sue a smart pat on the rump to send her on the way. And she, still the dweeb that had never gotten ahead of a single Avenger on the Maxim Hot 100, had taken the taxi humming I Could’ve Danced All Night to herself like she’d just been romanced by Clark Gable. She’d seen the show’s last Broadway revival. What had she been doing getting fucked in the ass by a former supervillain?
Then she’d slept without even a moment’s insomnia, dead to the world as soon as her head hit the pillow. The night burned the drug out of her system, letting her guilt in. She’d woken up a changed woman, though the change had come the previous day. This was just when she felt it.
Frantically, she’d gotten into the shower and scrubbed herself like there might be evidence painted on her skin. The clothes she’d thrown out only because burning was too extreme. She went without make-up and it just made the woman in the mirror harder to recognize. She’d always been a natural beauty, but now there was a terrible light in her reflection. A smile that seemed to persist right through her horror. She’d hadn’t just cheated on her husband. She’d loved every second of it.
Emma’s voice rang in her eyes, as clear and loud as church bells in the distance. “That high is not what this drug is all about. It was developed to destroy old-fashioned feelings of guilt, shame, and taboo…. Susan—this is what you want without fear of remorse, regret, self-loathing... all those emotions designed to keep you in line.”
The thought leapt to her mind. She could go back. Get more of Emma’s ‘mutant coke’. Bury this useless guilt again, leaving only her enjoyment of what had happened. But no. She hated the idea. Getting through life self-medicating, not for depression or anxiety, but just to kill her remorse. No, she deserved to feel this way. She deserved to feel worse. Because as awful as she felt, she couldn’t bring herself to hate what had happened.
She just couldn’t let herself think about it.
“Sue? Are you awake?” Reed’s voice came through the cracked door, followed shortly by his head on an extended neck. Sue looked around, as if checking whether she was awake. After that night, everything felt unreal.
She was still in bed, her eyes aimed at the alarm clock without actually acquiring it. She’d slept in one of the guest rooms, and it still smelled vaguely of aftershave and flannel from when they’d had Wolverine over. Sue hadn’t expected Reed to notice her absence; it had smelled like another all-nighter in the lab. But apparently not.
“I’m up,” Sue said. “Just feeling a little under the weather.”
She turned herself invisible to go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Reed’s head, still extended, followed her in. Luckily, he was used to her not wanting to be seen before she put her face on. For a moment, he was distracted by her clothes becoming visible as they were peeled from her body, then by the outline of her in the steam and hot shower spray.
“If I did something to offend you, I’d appreciate you letting me know.” Reed’s body made that balloon-rubbing sound as his body caught up with the rest of him. Apparently this was important enough for him to join her in whole. “I reprogrammed HERBIE to let me know if there’s a greater than sixty percent chance of my having angered you, and to order flowers as appropriate, but the system is still in beta…”
“We’re fine.” Sue reassured him by turning her face visible, along with a helping of her upper chest. As she might’ve expected, he’d rededicated himself to science far too much to be flustered once more. “I just caught a bug and I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Well, let me run you through the scanner suite, just to be sure. You never know when one of these things is a potion of Diablo’s…”
Sue thought of him picking up the coke in her system. She had to give it time to flush out. If it did flush out. It was some kind of mutant drug, right? What if it would keep showing up on drug tests when she was eighty? “Please, Reed, I can’t have every 48-hour bug be treated like something out of Star Trek. Just let me be sick awhile, please? The kids can bring me breakfast in bed, like I did for my parents growing up. It’ll be fun.”
“Alright. You get some rest. If you feel better, the seismology department of NYU either has some extremely faulty Richter scales or New York will soon be experiencing a tectonic event. Either way, the Fantastic Four can lend assistance.”
“I’ll be there. Just some antihistamines and orange juice, and I can deal with whatever the Earth’s crust can throw at us.”
“That I can provide.”
Dressed in her uniform, and babied slightly by Reed, she felt slightly herself. And moreso with Johnny and Ben quibbling over a videogame, Franklin of all people playing peacemaker. In the time it would’ve taken her to add two and two, Reed had double-checked the university’s findings and concluded there was nothing wrong with the Richter Scale (“Though to be less colloquial, the fault would be in the seismograph, not in the measuring unit itself.”). So off they went on the Fantasticar, hovering a half-mile above the adoring masses, supported only by repulsor technology.
The fantastical situation had Stormy bored solid. Seismological weirdness. Had to be Mole Man. And it was. He came bursting up through the Port Authority Bus Terminal (he’d been aiming for Times Square) with the usual rejects from Barsoom. The prospect of a fight seemed so… dull. She could even mouth along with ol’ Harvey.
“Foolish suntanned barbarians! The subterranean world will not tolerate your unchecked aggression! Quake before the terrible vengeance of the Mole Man and his lightless legions!”
Then Sue glanced down at the Fantasticar’s radar screen and realized they’d double-booked. The Blackbird was on its way as well. Which meant…
Hello, lovely.

Get out of my head, Frost.

Very well.

The radio crackled and for a half-second, Sue expected Emma’s iced accent to proposition her right before her teammates. Instead, it was Cyclops’s commanding tone coming over. “X-Men to Fantastic Four, we’re in the neighborhood. Need any help?”
“Nope!” Johnny said, while Ben chimed “Nada!”
“The more the merrier,” Reed said. “I’m always interested to see the X-gene in action.”
“That you’ll get, Dr. Richards. You might want to hang back while we make our entrance—“
“Come onnnnn!” Johnny pleaded, picturing Bobby Drake getting more hits than him on the Twitosphere.
For once, Reed was with him. “Sorry, friend. The FF doesn’t hang back.”
They leapt into the fray, followed closely by Cyclops, Marvel Girl, Beast, Kitty Pryde, Gambit, Maggott of all people, and of course, Wolverine. Emma had to still be in the Blackbird, piloting. Waiting to make her entrance. No rush.
Sue steeled herself against anymore speculation in that direction and focused on the fight. It was alright, as far as fights went. She didn’t enjoy violence, but as long as the boys had a good time and no one got hurt—well, it was like a bonding exercise, almost. Much better quality time than playing Monopoly.
The Mole Man overreached quickly, and was captured by Wolverine, who was thrown by the Thing. They had a name for the maneuver, which unduly fascinated Reed as he wrapped his arm three times around the snout of a reptile that was trying to wolf him down.
Without the Mole Man’s guidance, his monsters were just wild animals driven berserk. They could be corralled and tranquilized one by one, Johnny using his flames to trap them, Kitty baiting them with the safety of her intangibility, and Marvel Girl dumping them back down Mole Man’s hole after they were out.
Still concerned by her ‘sickness,’ Reed asked Sue to watch Mole Man on a nearby rooftop while they wrapped things up. She was quick to oblige. Despite two near-death experiences and the bitter pain of a claw swipe across her midsection, she couldn’t keep her mind off Emma. What was she thinking, as she directed the Blackbird’s turrets with only a fraction of that incredible intellect? What was she going to do?
She got her answer surely. The Blackbird’s hatch opened and Emma dropped down like Buttercup at the end of The Princess Bride, her cape and hair flowing so sinuously that they might’ve been parachutes. Her body was diamond, though, and it cut through the air like an arrow. The light hit it, flowed through it like the sun setting over water, and Sue was in awe. Emma knew it, and she didn’t care.
It’d been a long time since she’d had wonder. Finding it with Emma seemed at least as legitimate as traveling to another dimension.
Emma landed surprisingly lightly. Sue wondered how much diamonds weighted and—“You wound me,” Emma said, shaking flakes of concrete off her high-heeled boots. The impact she left was like a star would put down outside Mann’s Chinese Theater. Dainty and elegant. “I live in a mansion where red meat is a load-bearing part of the food pyramid and yet I only allow myself Nutella when I’m licking it off someone. If Husk had shifted into diamond, she’d be on the ground floor right now.”
The Blackbird stayed hovering over them, casting its shadow over the two women and the restrained Mole Man. It happened in the blink of an eye. With no sunlight touching her, Emma’s transformation back into flesh was almost imperceptible. And yet, Sue felt the sudden wave of warmth coming off her newly human skin like it was a physical caress. Emma smirked at her speechless facial expression as she turned to the Mole Man.
“Oh my. Is this who’s been monopolizing your time? I’ve had some unconventional partners in the past, but still…. Dignity. Always dignity.” Tugging on her left glove like she was reminding herself she still had it on, Emma touched her hand to the Mole Man’s temple.
Perhaps it was a side effect of her ability to make the invisible visible, but Sue had always been able to see psychic powers, after a fashion. When she was staring right at it, it was still as vague as something in the corner of her eye. The heat coming off a grill or a cloud in the night sky. Usually, it just blurred her vision during a psychic attack, seeing the blunt force and invasive thievery used by most telepaths. With Emma, it was like she was sliding crystal scalpels into the man’s brain, or moving slides under a microscope.
“Oh, rude boy,” Emma chided. “The thing he makes those Moloids wear. Your little arch-nemesis saw a documentary on fracking and decided that this time, right would make might. I know a lot of men retreat to basements after they’re rejected by enough women, Harvey, but you approach hyperbole. Oh well, at least those boys get to let out some steam without brawling in front of the students, and a little devastation stimulates the economy. Sue dear, have you invested in Damage Control Inc? A very well-run company. Owner’s a personal friend. The workforce is fourteen percent mutant and two percent AI. That’s better than some Avengers line-ups.”
“I can’t do this,” Sue said. She kept her voice blank, her face blank, her mind blank.
“Can’t?” Emma put the Mole Man to sleep with a hearty prod and wheeled on Sue. “Susan, you’ve done it. It’s part of you now. It always has been and it always will be. You’re my bitch.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You loved it.”
“I’m married.”
“And I killed a horse once. Why are we discussing things with no bearing on our situation?”
“It has every bearing on our situation! No, not our situation. Mine!” Sue threw up an invisible forcefield, thick enough to mute their rising conversation for outside ears. “I’m the one with kids, I’m the one with a family, what do you have? Some… eff-buddy!”
“Eff-buddy.” Emma quirked an eyebrow. “Scott’s more of a D-buddy, if you take my meaning.”
“You’re a smart woman, I’m sure you have some masterful way of justifying all this to yourself. But be honest—how would you feel if Scott cheated on you?”
“Bored, probably. Slightly surprised, depending on how much she looked like Jean Gray.”
“Well, Reed’s not one of your post-human… hipsters! If he found out about us, it would actually hurt him—“
“Would it?” Emma interrupted, barely letting Sue get her last word out before she interjected. “Would it really? Or, as you’re so deathly afraid of—would he not even care?”
“Quiet, Frost.”
“Perhaps he’d consider it convenient, sharing you. Pawning off your less… cerebral needs onto a third party. Your children have a nanny. Why can’t you have a mistress?”
“I’ll hurt you,” Sue promised.
“Not the kind of physicality you’re looking for,” Emma replied. She walked toward the forcefield, her low-level scan of Sue’s mind telling her it was there, and Sue forced herself to lower it so Emma wouldn’t run headlong into nothingness. And as Emma stepped out of the shadows, the light let her steal Sue’s breath away.
She was perfect. Even on a team and a job that seemed to demand physical perfection, she took the ne plus ultra of her costume and her body and wore them with such daring and verve… with an effect that went beyond the psychic and became nigh-physical… with such confidence, to both flaunt and not give a damn how she was perceived at the same time… that Sue could only compare her to the Celestials, the Eternals, the other god-like beings the Fantastic Four had encountered on their travels. In the same way their sheer power and importance seemed to shake the matter of the universe itself, Emma’s sexual potency demanded attention, arousal, worship.
Her comparatively modest X-Men costume made ‘the real Emma Frost’ an open secret, a private joke between her and Sue. With her bodice covering her from heart to womb, she easily showed less skin than a lot of superheroines Sue could name. It was the way she stood, the way she walked, the looks she gave that elevated her into a love goddess.
Emma didn’t touch Sue, though she was within arm’s reach. She barely even looked at her. She just held herself the way she did, arms across her chest, hands about her face, inviting Sue to uncover her. Not even showing enough flesh to be a promise, merely a gamble. “We’re not having the same conversation. You’re talking about truth, justice, the American Way. All the things that make your life worth living—when you’re not with me. Me? I give your life meaning. I give you pleasure that justifies your life. I make you come so hard it justifies itself. This isn’t about big words like infidelity and faithfulness and trust. This isn’t words at all. It’s that mindless beast between your legs that knows what it wants and know how to get it. Are you going to let me feed it, Sue darling? Or are we going to pretend that playing Suzy Homemaker gets you off half as good as I do?”
Sue was flustered halfway through Emma’s speech. By the time Emma was done, she was wet. She tried to deny it, but she couldn’t when every minute motion rubbed a warm pussy against sodden panties. And so, desperate to force this impossible contradiction out of her life, her powers activated the same way they would to instinctively stop a gunshot.
Emma faded from view. A moment later, her laugh came from nowhere.
“Oh, Sue, you’re more delightfully fucked up than you let on. You know, you could’ve just turned my clothes invisible. It’d make a much better show.” Sue heard high heels clicking on the pavement between them, that had been between them. “But even I must admit, it wasn’t the sight of me that made you come like Old Faithful. It was my touch. It was how I made you feel.”
And to Sue’s horror—to her unending relief—she felt Emma’s invisible hands run from the sides of her breasts down the curvature of her ribs, all the way down to rest on her hips. Just short of her ass, just short of her cunt—the grip staggeringly intimate and not nearly intimate enough all at once.
“Did you know we actually forget things on purpose?” Emma’s voice was in Sue’s ear now. There was no telling how close she was. Sue could’ve made her eyes perceive Emma Frost, could’ve simply uncloaked her, but both options seemed unbearable. She could only stand there, in her lust and her weakness, and be tempted. “It’s true. Imagine if every single thing that had ever happened to you could be called up at a moment’s notice. It’d be torture, wouldn’t it? Sensory overload. For our own sake, we reduce the detritus of our lives to vague blurs, scents and impressions, so we can live in the now instead of being held prisoner to the past. But you, Susan—you try to sandpaper past, present, and future into one smooth slope, sliding down unimpeded from your birth to your death. I’m not offering you memories, dear heart. I’m offering you the here and now. My fingers in your cunt, right now, and my cock up your ass in five minutes. And the only way you could say no—is if you didn’t know what you were being offered.”
Suddenly, Sue felt Emma’s hand in her hair, the force of her muscles pulling on her scalp, forcing Sue’s face up into Emma’s warm breath. It smelled of lilacs. “And we both know you can’t pretend that.”
Emma kissed her and Sue remembered everything.
She remembered being face down in a sex club, her best friends arranged in front of her. They were sitting on their hands, not allowed to masturbate, naked from the waists down (at least), but clenching their tights together for the faint pleasure. Janet was even opening her legs extra wide to flash her pink pussy at Sue, either mocking her or promising her something.
The reason they weren’t allowed to masturbate, and the reason they wanted to, was Emma Frost. She was wearing her White Queen costume, known and feared through the superhero community as the brand of the Hellfire Club. The only bit of color on her was the yellow and blue dildo strapped to her hips, a sardonic tribute to her current beau, Cyclops of the X-Men. And it was buried all the way in Sue’s ass. Though she was bent over the table of the private booth all five ladies were crammed in, Sue might as well have been bowing to Emma.
“Do you want to go cold turkey and get my cock out of your ass?” Emma was asking, finishing a lengthy extolling of the drug Sue had literally eaten out of Emma’s hand. “Or do you want another hit while I fuck you like the bitch you are?"
Sue hadn’t even hesitated. “Muh-mistress!”
Emma took that as the plea it was. She withdrew just enough to get a running start, then impaled Sue with one surge of her hips. The ladies in front of Sue—her friends and colleagues—tightened their thighs together as one. Sue could smell their arousal. She could see it glistening on the seats below them.
“Enjoy my cock up your ass,” Emma advised, sounding nothing more than solicitous. “It’s going to be there quite a bit.”
Despite her pleasure, Sue felt the fear of a winded animal being pursued. In her panicked, ecstatic state, she couldn’t imagine Emma everstopping. She was powerless, willingly powerless—and that left only the enjoyment. There was nothing she could do to stop the pleasure Emma was giving her and she wouldn’t have it any other way. The fear sent adrenaline coursing through her, thicker in her veins than the drugs. It made everything vivid.
Once more, Emma held herself deep inside Sue. She took Sue’s blond hair in one hand, vanilla blonde, such a small ways away from Emma’s own rose gold hair, but so dour in comparison. Emma rubbed it between her fingers before pulling on it, the new pain forcing Sue’s attention.
“Touch yourself,” she ordered. “I’m under no obligation. If you want to come, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”
Sue understood. She parted her legs as much as she could with one of Emma’s hands still on her hips, keeping her in place, then she shifted all her weight onto her left hand while her right ran underneath her prone body. She felt her clit and it was like it was hot to the touch, the intensity of the contact was so strong. A nudging push in her mind from Emma. She groped herself, the sharp feeling cutting into the pained pleasure of the dildo in her ass. Mixing but not mixing. Oil and water. Almost immediately, she—
(Sue remembered Emma’s mind with hers, like they were hand in hand, running their conjoined hand over her sex, her perineum, her clit. Her fingers were soft and nimble, so different from all the callused touches she’d known—that was Emma’s thought, not hers—they felt magnificent. And the cool lacquer of her manicure, when Emma pressed her to rake her nails over her cunt despite her fears… It was almost enough to blot out the lingering pain of Emma’s penetration, but some always stayed, like spice. Just Emma shifting her weight was like an earthquake: more than enough to finish her off.)
“Sorry!” Sue breathed as she came. She had no idea what she was apologizing for.
Emma patted her on the back. “That’s quite alright, dear. I think you’ve had enough of Cyclops. He’s best in small doses.” Emma withdrew a ways, and even that sent burning heat through Sue. It hurt so much more than it pleased, but she loved it and she held still without the slightest nudge from Emma. Emma stopped, neither hilted in Sue nor outside her, and being balanced on that knife’s edge snapped Sue’s mind. A tear ran down her cheek. When she saw her mascara running later, she wouldn’t be able to remember where it was from joy or agony.
“Would you like some more coke, my dear? Like they say: it’s the pause that refreshes.” Sue could only nod. “Slut, time to make yourself useful.”
Psylocke answered to her codename, bending down—it was an effort for her hands to avoid her pussy—and reaching into her stockings, where a sort of garter belt held more vials of the stuff. She poured one out in front of Sue and Sue went for it, but Emma held her tight by the hair.
“Janet, you’ve been having a profitable quarter. Why don’t you give Sue something to keep her from making a mess? A large bill, I should think. As a fashionista, you should know how entwined expense is with enjoyment.”
Janet had to pry her hands off the bottoms of her thighs, leaving white marks where they’d been clenched, but eventually she reached into her purse and brought out a hundred-dollar bill. “I’d pay ten times this to watch what’s going down.”
“You’re not going to watch for much longer,” Emma said meaningfully. She took the bill and rolled it up into a tight straw, then handed it to Sue. “You know what to do.”
“I…” Sue picked up the money. “I…” She put it in her nose. “Oh, Emma.”
She ran the dollar bill over the cocaine until nothing was left but a faint white smear on the stage.
This hit wasn’t like before. It went in hard, hitting her in the pool of overwarm pleasure that Emma had made between her legs. It knocked away everything but EmmaemmaEMMA, that look on the back of her neck, those fingernails needled on her hips, that patch of skin where Emma’s knee pressed against the back of her leg, the low and almost supportive way Emma’s whisper (thoughts?) made it to her ear—“Come on now, that’s it, there we are, good girl, ride it, I know it’s rough, you simply must ride it, there, THERE, come down now, dear, you’ve had your fun, yes, can you orgasm once more? For me? Yes? Good girl, darling girl, such a good student, we’re learning so much.”
Sue couldn’t even think of the dildo up her ass. It wasn’t a part of her and it wasn’t a part of Emma. It felt bigger than them. The world was darkness and her and Emma, and the feeling of being penetrated was at the center of it. Emma was the boundary, keeping everything tight and confined and cozy. And Sue… Sue was the darkness.
Later, her friends would tell her that she came four times, just from Emma swaying her hips with that cock deep inside. Janet would say it was six, but she was prone to exaggeration. They all agreed, and Sue vaguely remembered, that at some point (orgasm three?) her arms gave out and she just collapsed on the stage, her arms and forehead off the edge, her face covered by the hair reaching for the floor.
Emma pulled out by degrees, accounting for however other many orgasms Sue felt. By then, her high was finally dying. She just felt a chilly absence and realized she could rest and passed out for what felt like hours, but was really only a few minutes as Emma took off the dildo, had Betsy wipe it down, then put it back in its box, safe and sound.
Emma patted Sue on her well-used ass along with a mental nudge, waking her in time to hear “Get her on her feet, ladies. We’re taking this party upstairs.”
Everyone but Emma descended on Sue, eager to grope her as they lifted her up. Jen’s hands—large but not mannish, just shockingly long fingers—sunk into her buttocks. Janet’s—slender and child-like compared to Jen’s—cradled her breast as they supported Sue’s back. And Betsy’s fingers were rough and callused where they gripped Sue’s head, her other hand carrying the box under her arm, but her index finger possessively hooked in Sue’s mouth. Sue was glad for the small debasement. Sucking on it gave her something to focus on as the cocaine erupted through her. Making her heart race and shake.
She was born aloft behind Emma like the prize from a hunt, club-goers parting before her to observe her degradation from new angles. The lights and music physically crashed down on Sue. Their waves bounced through her blood vessels and left her shaking like a struck cymbal. She thrashed and laughed. Laughed louder when Emma’s guests reached out in passing and ripped off pieces of her garments. In only twenty feet she was stripped bare, her naked body glowing with sweat and shaking, hot and cold. She wondered if Emma’s nods had anything to do with who was helping her disrobe. Did she nod to them before or after they stripped her? It was hard for Sue to tell.
The procession (hunting party, Sue’s mind claimed) swept through the dance floor and up a spiral staircase the size of a redwood. In the rafters, with the sound and fury dimmed, Sue should’ve felt metal-cold. Instead she could’ve been in a boiler room. On her bare skin, her friends’ bold fingers felt hot as brands.
Finally, they ascended to a mahogany door, tres out of place. Through it was Emma’s office, which of course connected to a luxurious bedroom. Both were stark white, the office lined on both walls with paintings, each pair dominated by a different primary color. In that room, they looked like windows into other worlds. And despite what was downstairs, none of them were sexual. Flowers, trees, fruits—it could’ve been a museum exhibit.
At the far end of a space the size of a studio apartment, floor-to-ceiling windows of one-way glass looked down on the White Queen’s realm.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Emma asked in a rhetorical mood. She sat on her ivory desk with its black drawers as Sue was carried past it, born like a virgin sacrifice to those vast windows.
In her mind’s eyes, with the vulgar suddenness of a dirty word, Sue imagined a pillory made out of her own forcefields. It was of a special design: a large board in front with three holes for her arms and head to go through, then a neck that swept down and widened so she’d be bent over it at the waist. From there it narrowed straight down into a pole, which crept along the floor to become a second holed board for her legs. Struts projected to either side so the construct wouldn’t pitch over with her weight. It looked like a horrible device, bending someone over and locking them in place, something Sue wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy.
“Yes, mistress,” she said, and when they set her down, she projected the forcefields, obediently bending down over its neck and ‘strapping’ herself in.
With the pillory invisible, she looked like she was frozen in ice, bent over an imaginary desk or table. Her ass was on display, as was her pussy underneath. So were her breasts, dangling under her. Sue could see them in the faint reflection of the dark glass. Along with Jen, Janet, and Betsy, growing in the mirror as they circled her.
Betsy slid a hand over her ass, while Janet ran her fingernails down Sue’s steepled leg. Jen was the most aggressive. She reached right under Sue and grabbed a handful of cleavage like she was inspecting livestock.
After a testing squeeze on Sue’s buttocks, Betsy’s hand slithered down toward where Sue was pink and wet. Emma stopped her with a brisk command.
“Slut, bring me Wolverine.” Betsy obediently trotted off. She went to the desk, pulling open a wide drawer. Bending over to do it, giving Emma a perfect view of her perfect ass. She put Cyclops’s box inside—Jesus, Sue thought, she really does have Scott’s dick in her desk—and took out another. Opened it.
Inside was exactly what Sue expected, only much larger. Cyclops had just seemed big because of the circumstances and the drugs. Sue guessed it was really only about six and a half inches. This was ten inches, and thicker, its brown and black coloring making it look still more masculine and threatening.
Emma clapped her hands together as Betsy fitted the new strap-on to her like a tailor. “This is Wolverine,” she said, gesturing to her phallus like she was making introductions. “It’s not true to life— Logan’s is actually short but thick, rather like the man himself really, but I enjoy thinking of the look on Scott’s face were he to discover this.”
Sue saw Emma clearly in the reflection as she approached, white, gleaming. She was so pale she could’ve been the moon, her light only blotted out by Sue’s body as Emma stepped around her. At her groin, reflection made the strap-on obscenely black. An abyss that Sue lost herself in; when Emma came around, she thrust the dildo in Sue’s face, making it dominate her vision. Through Sue’s adrenaline rush, it pulsed and throbbed mightily.
Emma ran it down Sue’s face in a parody of a loving caress, the kind Reed might do from across the room, and it. Was. So. Cold. So refreshingly cold.
While Sue burned up, Emma put her out a little. “You haven’t had any work done, have you Susan? Such a lovely face. More than the sum of its parts. That simplistic haircut. That weak chin. Those lost cheekbones. Yet it’s all so naturalistic that one has to forgive the shortcomings. Yes, you’re a veritable winsome beauty. I can’t believe I’m going to let someone else fuck that face. But that’s Emma Frost, I suppose. Generous to a fault.” Perching the Wolverine cockhead on Sue’s lips, she faced each of the others in turn. “Alright, poppets, now you get off. But only on our dear Susan’s face. I’ll leave it to you to sort out the pecking order.”
Sue pulled at her bonds, but they were inescapable. The sleek, glassy feel of her forcefields was usually so comforting. Now they felt otherworldly enough to be threatening. They were hers, yet she couldn’t control them (or herself). Emma had split Sue apart when she’d penetrated her. One half of her was still fearful of this pleasure and anyone who could possibly enjoy it. The other held the rest of her tightly captive, betraying her to the White Queen.
Emma circled around Sue to fit the dildo to her ass like a plug in a socket. Despite the stretching Sue had endured just minutes ago, her ass put up a token resistance to Wolverine’s entry. Emma made an “mmm” sound and applied a little more pressure, than a little less. Sue clenched and relaxed. A little more pressure, a little less.
“You want to see me put this bitch on a spit before we start?” Emma asked the others.
They nodded eagerly, Janet letting out a tiny “Yes!”
Emma secured Sue’s waist in her hands, then her hips—
(Sue remembered agonizing pain, sudden, indescribable. That alone she could’ve endured. She’d been in enough torture chambers and death-traps to stand up to anything. Except that a second after Emma roughly shoved herself into Sue, the pain was wiped away by pleasure. Some secret part of her was exploding and singing, and not because she was getting fucked in the ass. Because a woman was fucking her in the ass, a woman she wasn’t married to. A woman that was stronger than her, prettier than her, better than her. And naughtier. So much naughtier.)
“Now fuck her face off,” Emma commanded, twirling a lock of Sue’s hair around her finger.
The three heroines swept in all at once, but Jen was easily the victor. She shouldered the other two aside like a linebacker and grabbed Sue by the ears. Her pussy was close enough for Sue to count the many hairs on it (not too many, of course, Jen being Jen, but she was definitely closer to being a meadow than a lawn), though Jen kept a respectful distance. “Sorry about this, Suzie,” she said with a chagrinned smile. “But Shulkie want get off!”
“That’s okay, I completely understand,” Sue said. Tried to say. From the second word on, she was muffled by a giant green twat.
Not that Sue had much to compare it to, but Jen tasted good. Exotic, strong to the point of unpleasant, an acquired taste to be sure—but good. The gamma radiation must’ve changed Jennifer’s flavor as surely as the rest of her, because her juices left a faintly burning aftertaste like watered-down whiskey. Sue loved it. She licked as best she could, but despite her tongue being feared by every member of the World’s Greatest Heroes, it wasn’t enough for the sensational She-Hulk. At least, not with her as keyed up as the last half-hour had left her.
“Stick out your tongue,” Jen ordered, her deep voice rumbling with arousal, and Sue obligingly extended her tongue as far as she could. Not that Jen waited for that. She jerked her hips like a teenage boy at a dance, grinding her cunt into Sue’s face until she had Sue’s tongue trapped. Then she went faster.
Even with Jen holding back—she was, right?—She-Hulk frantically ramming her sex against Sue was like receiving a series of open-handed slaps. The taste filled Sue’s mouth, setting her throat aflame. Then Jen stopped bothering with tongue altogether. She simply held Sue’s head still and ground herself into it, running her sex over Sue’s face in laughing delight. Sue felt her booming, full-throated chuckle as deeply as the rest of her. Jen was as hot as an open match held up to Sue’s face, and her wetness marked Sue like war paint. Sue forgot about the pillory, and nearly forgot about Emma, and just—what was Johnny’s word for it? Motorboated.
“YES YES YES!” Jen was as vocal as her cousin, though far more agreeable. When Sue was able to see past her magnificently thick thighs, it was up at Jen with Janet and Betsy hanging off her, either trying to move her so they could get their turn earlier or trying to leech off of Jen’s sexual excitement. Or both. The way they bit and scratched at Jen could not be considered either wholly loving or wholly aggressive. They, and Emma’s glorious smile, spurred Jen on. She threaded her hands into Sue’s hair and forced her as deep as she could into her needy cunt.
It ended up covering both Sue’s nose and mouth, instantly cutting off her air. And her vision, for that matter. All Sue could see was the sweet, cuddly pink that had been so incongruously situated in the midst of Jen’s jade skin and dark hair. She struggled to breathe, turned her head to try to get away from Jen, but the giantess just went faster. Unapologetically rutting Sue’s nose, Jen threw her head back to expose her surprisingly slender neck to her friends’ love bites. Her pussy ran like a piece of fruit being squeezed harder and harder, now slathering Sue’s face with her cream, filling her lungs with the smell of quim and nothing else.
With Sue suffocating, her head turned to the ceiling, her friends teething her neck like twin vampires, and Emma watching, Jennifer Walters dropped her mouth open and roared “YESSSSS! SHE-HULK COME!”

Emma giggled fitfully. There was one thing she’d give superheroes—their morals may have been stauncher than her usual playmates, but they were much less boring.
(Sue remembered how Jen had been exhausted, in both senses of the word, transforming back into the mild attorney she had once been exclusively. It’d been quite a sight, naked. Jen’s butt flattened, her breasts shrunk to B-cups, her muscles swam in seas of slack skin, until finally a short, mousy woman was left, naked and giggling with the same joie de vive She-Hulk had possessed. She’d sat down on the couch, then the floor when Emma objected to a sweaty superheroine on her furniture, and Sue hadn’t noticed her again)

A bolt of psychic force added to her orgasm had Jen stumbling back, freeing a gagging Sue to spit out some of the prodigious come Jen had gifted her with and suck in air. Emma wasn’t planning for her to catch her breath, though. Even as Jen’s heady juices drip-drip-dripped from Sue’s chin (and ears, and hair, and eyelashes), Emma rolled her hips to obscenely sexual effect.
Sue gulped down what was left of Jen’s appreciation, her eyes rolling back in her head and air no longer seeking refuge in her chest. Wolverine was huge. No, no it wasn’t—she tried to tell herself, rationally, logically—it wasn’t that much bigger than Cyclops, and she’d taken that no problem. But none of that common sense made a difference to her ass, where the dildo felt as big around as Ben’s fist and as long as Reed when he needed something back in a room he’d just left. And in the face of that gut feeling, of being reamed, of being sodomized, Sue wondered if she could take even an inch more.
“You can,” Emma said aloud, and Sue realized belatedly that her thoughts were being read. She might’ve expected Emma to lean down, whisper in her ear like some of her more gentle lovers had done when taking on the unemotional ‘doggy style’ position. But no. Emma stayed erect, head held high, dropping her proclamation down on Sue like the Oracle must’ve done in ancient Rome. “You can, and you will. Your ass is mine, Susan Storm. It’s time I enjoy it a bit more.”
Sue whimpered and closed her eyes, not even bothering to try and break free of the pillory, much less dispel her own forcefields. Emma was adding a few more inches to her conquest and it hurt like hell, if not as much as before. Or maybe it did and she just enjoyed it more. Either way, when Emma finally stopped, Sue was breathing hard and had no idea whether she wanted Emma to keep going or pull out and let her run and hide.
Emma, as usual, wasn’t doing either. “Very good, Susan. You’re taking to buggery much faster than expected. But now that you’ve had your fun,”MY FUN? bounced shrilly through Sue’s head, “you’d best remember that to give is better than to receive.”
Janet was next up. She’d made some deal with Betsy to keep the ninja hanging back, and now that she had Sue mostly to herself, her crystalline wings were fully extended with her arousal, batting in jogging spurts that sent cool breezes through the room and ruffled Emma’s hair dazzlingly. Janet took a tissue from a nearby table—her staccato wings nearly ripped it from her hands—and went to wipe Sue’s face off.
“Don’t listen to Emma, you have a lovely face. You’re a classical beauty. I mean, that thing your nose does, you know? That’s art, honey. Money can’t buy it. I would love to put you in some of my clothes. Although right now, I’m obviously enjoying having you out of them so much more!”
Sue groaned and gurgled through the one-sided conversation. She was still getting used to the headway Emma had made in her ass, the unrelenting force of the dildo opening her up and holding her open. It was insane. A weight that drilled deeper and deeper into her, but just kept spinning its wheels—the pleasure pressing down on her, but never getting where she needed it. And as Sue had correctly guessed, she would only get Emma’s precious ministrations by getting off her friends. She wanted to be degraded by Janet so she could be degraded by Emma. What a fucking world.
The OCD case in her satisfied with how presentable Sue was, Janet stood, crooked her hands on her hips, and jutted her sex out for Sue’s inspection. She was far more meticulously shaved than Jen, her labia bare except for the landing strip in the shape of the Avengers’ famous logo. That explained the cocky grin Janet displayed. It wasn’t like Sue had a 4 on her cooch.
“Just so you know, I think it’s really great that you’re doing this!” Janet said hurriedly, with her trademark mile-a-minute flare. “It is so good for your relationship to get in touch with your inner slut. You would not believe how great things were with Hank after I fucked Black Panther. It’s not for everyone, that’d just be silly, but I think there are a lot and a lot of people who just really need to fuck around! It’s not like we won’t have plenty of time to be monogamous once we’re old and gray, but right now, we should be getting as much dick and vajayjay as we can! Who knows when we’ll end up in one of those one million dystopian futures that keep paying us visits! There’s no time for sex when Dr. Doom is making us all build a giant statue of his pet cat or—“
Sue licked Janet’s cunt. At least her clit wasn’t tiny.
“Oh!” Janet said, shocked. She tried to carry on the conversation. “Or a-a-a mural of his dead mother, your arch-nemesis is quite the mommy’s boy, needs to have a—“ (Sue licked Janet again. There was a fruity bouquet to her that had to be intentional, some kind of body wash or, more likely, pussy wash. It was novel, at least. Two bouts of cunnilingus and Sue was becoming a connoisseur.) “That would be pretty good work, actually, painting for a living. I’m quite artistic, really, I’ve done some portraits. Not enough for an exhibition… do you think I should get back into painting? There are a lot more subjects these days. Why, those Junior X-Men alone would be…”
Sue sealed her mouth to Janet and ate voraciously. She usually liked Janet’s meaningless babble, but not when it stood in the way of getting the few more inches that would end the burning desire between her legs.
“Oooh!” Janet hummed, setting her hands atop Sue’s head like a crown. She bunched her fingers in Sue’s hair. “Your hair really is lovely, Sue, although have you ever thought of streaks? They make you look so much—MMMMM!” Sue marked that spot to remember later. For now, she wanted to try nibbling on Janet’s labia. “Uhh! Uhh!” Janet grunted. “You’re good at this! Is it because—“ Sue drove her tongue deep into Janet, in and out like a cock, rewarded with grunts and gasps. “OOF! Sue, that’s amazing! You’re a natural! OH!” Sue went back to That Spot. “OH GOD! YES! PLEASE! FUCK ME! FUCK ME WITH YOUR FACE! MMM-MM-MMMMFUCK!”
Even coming, Janet had a big mouth. She wailed like a banshee, her wings fluttering so hard that it was like going down on a turbofan. She wasn’t a squirter like Jen, though Sue did detect a taste of something unlike the passion fruit flavor she’d been getting—the taste indescribable, but quite alright—very Janet van Dyne.
Janet sagged back on the balls of her feet, letting her whirring wings keep her up like she was slumping into an invisible beanbag chair. She wiped some drool off her chin. “You’re a really good friend, Sue. We should’ve eaten each other’s cunts years ago!”
Sue would’ve said something about how Janet hadn’t eaten her at all, and it would probably be more than a few years before she did, but Betsy was done waiting. She walked right over the reclining Janet on those decadently long legs, marching up to Sue and taking her head in her hands. “Enjoy,” Betsy said, her gruff voice making it more of a command as she shared minds with Sue, letting her look through Betsy’s eyes at Emma.
So she could watch Emma as she buried a few more precious inches in Sue’s ass, a devilish look in her eye, wearing the open-mouthed smile of a goblin as she opened Sue up forever, stretched her and loosened her and claimed her. Like an echo, Sue heard herself through both her own ears and Betsy’s—“Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck… goddamn… motherfucker… Emma! Fucking Emma!”—a steady stream of curse words she hadn’t used since she was a teenager. That, and gasping, and whimpering, and screaming as Emma stopped just an inch too far to be bearable.
“Hurts!” Sue moaned shrilly, the pleasure gone far away, only an insistent fraction left behind to taunt her. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts…”
“Easy, darling. I’ll take care of you.” Emma’s gloved hand ran coolly between Sue’s legs. Like ice, it seemed to melt on her burning thighs, her molten sex. “I take such good care of all my students.”
Sue was crying, Betsy wiping the tears away with her thumbs. The strap-on was like a hot poker in her flesh, and the heat was flaying her cunt. Only Emma’s cool fingers and the pleasure they brought made it tolerable. In fact, she thought she could come. Yes, the pain was going away now, beaten back by Emma. She felt her tension pushed to the max, the pressure at its highest, the freedom and release of an orgasm within arm’s reach…
Emma stopped, marking the occasion with a brisk slap to Sue’s buttocks. “That’s all for now. Time for some sisterly solidarity. Give Slut her orgasm, then you can have yours.”
Betsy tugged Sue’s face into the tuft of purple hair crowning her slit. “Lick,” she ordered brusquely.
Sue was still frozen by her impending orgasm. It was so close! She tried to push back against Emma’s cock, just get an ounce of friction to finish her off, but the pillory wouldn’t let her move that way anymore than she could pull away from Emma. She couldn’t even clench her thighs for whatever relief that would bring. She was trapped on the verge of orgasm, and it was worse torture than anything Dr. Doom had ever come up with.
Betsy grew impatient with the delay. She straightened the middle and forefinger of her left hand, then nipped them into Sue’s neck like she was training a dog. It was nowhere near as painful as the sodomy Sue was undergoing, but still startling enough to be unpleasant.
“Lick!” Betsy repeated, her British accent cold enough to freeze fire.
Suddenly, Sue felt incredibly nervous. She was sandwiched between two women who were the epitome of seductiveness, each with miles more experience than her, and she was expected to please them? How? She made a few tentative laps at Betsy, hoping it would please her, but all it earned was another painful nip.
“Faster!” Betsy ordered. Emma giggled in front of her, covering her mouth with her hand.
Sue obeyed, licking and kissing Betsy’s slit. To her relief, it tasted much the same as Janet’s had when you got past whatever it was Janet bought to give herself the flavor of a Starburst. For a moment, Sue’d been worried that Betsy would taste ‘Asian’ somehow and make her feel like a racist.
“Better,” Betsy said, her inscrutable face (now Sue felt like a racist anyway) relaxing into a smile. She returned both hands to Sue’s face, subtly massaging it as Sue licked and licked. Her touch had Sue relaxing with each swipe of her tongue, pushing ‘getting buggered’ to the back of her mind and replacing it with the luxurious feel of Betsy on her tongue.
“Mmm-hmmm,” Sue moaned unintentionally, lost in all of Betsy’s lovely skin. She licked and kissed and sucked, rewarded by the pulsing subconscious thrill spreading from her lips outward. She didn’t know if it was all tasting Betsy and being touched by her, or if some of it was subtle telepathy, but she didn’t care. She was drifting off, her tongue dancing to the metronome beat of Betsy’s demand. All she had to do was keep licking Betsy. It was very soothing. Like sucking on a lollipop, Sue thought with a drugged giggle.
All too soon, her ministrations bore fruit. Betsy came to taste headier, stronger somehow, and her hands came away, leaving Sue in the lurch. When the blonde opened her eyes, she saw those deadly hands rolling up Betsy’s body, feeling out her own taut skin and sleek musculature, heavy breasts and angular face, fingers cresting the O of her parted lips as she reached completion.
“Acceptable,” Betsy said with typical sparsity. She stepped away, purple pubic hair dewy with moisture. Sue was still staring at the incredible symmetry of her warrior’s body, goggling at how she had brought pleasure to it, when Emma dug her nails into Sue’s flanks and pushed forward into Sue’s tightest, hottest hole.
It hurt so bad, Sue couldn’t even scream, just yelp. It was no fair, going from the pleasure of eating Betsy out to this inferno of pain. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks, dripping into her open mouth as her head twisted and turned, “No, Emma, no, Emma please, Emma, Emma!” A harsh sob broke through her throat. “It hurts!”
Finally, Emma came down off her pedestal, bending down to whisper in Sue’s ear. “Suffering is good for the soul,” she shared, and drove the final inch of her dildo deep inside.
Without warning, Sue boomeranged from the explosion of pain to an implosion of ecstasy, pure pleasure as she came, spurting, her climax running down her legs in rivulets. At the other end of her body, a scream was wrenched from her throat. It echoed through the confines of the office, raining down on the dance floor below, bringing smiles to the faces of Jen and Janet and Betsy.
“Still want me to stop?” Emma asked, pulling her dildo out a tiny degree. The relief it brought was absolutely unacceptable. Sue needed the pressure, the pain, the orgasm that came with them. Emma didn’t even wait for Sue to put her answer into words, reading it right off of Sue’s mind. “That’s what I thought.”
She pulled out anyway, nearly halfway, and Sue sobbed anew. Her crying turned to guttural barks of enjoyment as Emma thrust back into her with short, quick thrusts that sent agony galloping through her. The only way Sue survived was having Emma’s hand between her legs, the heel of her hand flush against her cunt, pleasure like an ice cube sizzling on a skillet. She came again, a painful orgasm, a climax that hurt, and she absolutely loved it.
Janet knelt in front of her and kissed her hungrily, tasting herself and two other women atop Sue’s much-abused lipstick, and Sue loved that too.
Emma’s thrusts became deeper, longer, slower somehow. In and out, first the painful delve into Sue, then the inexorable and agonizing lack of pulling out, opening Sue up to feel the exquisite pleasure of Emma’s fingers diddling her cunt. After what felt like seconds, she came again, sobbing and moaning into Janet’s open mouth as her friend kissed her cheeks and forehead, only returning to her lips when Sue had gotten it out of her system.
Now they’d attracted Betsy’s interest. She sauntered up to the pillory, experimentally testing its invisible borders with outstretched hands, then did a perfect split to sink to the ground. Damn ninja show-offs, Sue thought. But it put Betsy in perfect position to suck on Sue’s breasts, left dangling by her compromising position, and that gave Janet the idea to reach underneath Sue and fondle her other tit.
All that would’ve been more than enough to get Sue off, in time, but Emma’s words shot her to the finish line like a jet rocket at a footrace. “I hope you’re learning something about yourself, Susan. It’s important to remember that you are a slut, in general, and a cockslut specifically, and that you can take so very much enjoyment in having your cockslut ass fucked and used to orgasm and filled with come. I trust having your asshole stretched out and gaping will help you remember, as will not being able to take one dainty footstep without thinking of my great big phallus entering you anally. But in case you forget, don’t worry, I will be fucking each and every one of your holes more than enough times for you to remember your lesson: You. Are. Mine. And not only are you mine, my young pupil, but you love being mine, my cockslut, my dirty anal whore, my fucking toy OH…!”
Emma lost herself in a perfect orgasm, sinking once more home into Sue’s ass, closing her eyes and tilting her head back and breathing hard for a full minute as she soaked in the psychic pleasure of everyone else in the room. Then her eyes clicked open.
“Jen,” she said, eying the woman who had been checking her smartphone messages. “You’re not participating,” Emma chided.
“I can’t Hulk out,” Jen said, blushing. “Not after a really gangbusters orgasm.” Sue and Janet turned to look at her. Even Betsy eyed her with her mouth around Sue’s teat. “Yeah, I don’t advertise that.”
Emma smiled magnanimously. “I should think even your normal human strength would be enough to hold this whore open for my reaming cock,” she said, sweet as sugar.
Jen seemed to agree, running over to pull Sue’s cheeks apart for Emma. It could’ve have made much a difference, but suddenly Emma seemed to go even deeper as she pounded Sue’s ass as fast and rough as mutantly possible. She stopped fingering Sue, her hand instead tightening around Jen’s neck to hold her steady for an equally brutal kiss, but that was alright by Sue. Someone else—Jen or Jan or Betsy—penetrated her with their bare hands, so much warmer than Emma’s leather gloves, and it was just the thing to stroke her fire and pour gasoline on the smoldering ashes that her last orgasm had made of her.
She came roaring back to life, an inferno, and had an orgasm that she wouldn’t be able to tell ended, because Emma kept fucking her and Janet kept kissing her and Betsy kept suckling her and Jen, was it Jen?, kept stroking her with those delicious fingers, so she just kept coming and coming and coming, until Emma let the memory end and Sue was back on that rooftop, in the middle of New York, broad daylight, hanging off Emma like she was on the cover of a romance novel and, oh yes, still coming her brains out.
To her annoyance, when Sue’s eyes fluttered open, she saw the captive Mole Man had awakened. He was staring at them with a great bulge in his trousers. Emma noticed too, and shut him back off with a wave of her hand.
“Don’t worry, I’ll erase his memories. Most of them. Let him think he’s had one hell of a wet dream, the poor bugger doesn’t get a smidgen of action as it is.”
“I want it!” Sue fairly shouted, feeling her hard nipples raking painfully against the confines of her bra. “I want to be your guest, I want to be your whore, I wanna be fucked and come and fuck people and—“
Emma laughed, petting Sue’s hair. “Easy now! You do run hot and cold. There’ll be time enough for that tonight, when you’ve tucked your kiddies away and come back to my domain. Since you’ve been so good about accepting my tutelage, I’ll arrange a special treat for you. Oh, Susan. I think you could become my favorite student.”
Sue giggled madly. She felt higher than she’d been on the cocaine. Wild. Tipping over into frenzy. “Want me to bring you an apple, teach?”
Emma kissed her cheek. “That would be exquisite. Tonight, my darling. Wait for tonight. For now, I think it’s best you attend to certain wardrobe malfunctions.”
Sue looked down. The crotch of her suit had gone from periwinkle blue to damn near indigo with all the come she’d soaked it with. Grinning, Sue turned herself invisible. That was an easy fix.
“See you tonight,” Emma said, and gave Sue’s transparent cheek an unerring kiss before departing.
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Corruption Is Just Another Change of Perspective