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The Red Queen Chronicles: The Lost Son	By : marvelmaster616 Category: X-men Comics > General Views: 8506 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don’t own Spider-Man, Mary Jane, the X-men, SHIELD, Daken, the Avengers, or Marvel and I am making no money off this. They are the property of Stan Lee, Marvel, and Disney. Please don’t sue.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
The Red Queen Chronicles: The Lost Son
Chapter 4: Balancing Act
Xavier Institute – Infirmary
When it came to escaping destiny, the battle never ended. X-men understood that more than most. Jean Grey understood that better than most X-men. Having literally cheated death – on multiple occasions, no less – she knew what it took to defying the inevitable. It was a big part of Charles Xavier’s vision, evading the conflict that everyone claimed was unavoidable in pursuit of a better future.
Jean had to fight harder than most to forge that future. If anyone in the X-men could claim to fight the hardest, though, it was Logan.
“Ugh! Fuck me with an adamantium sledge-hammer,” groaned the former living weapon.
“Good morning, Logan,” Jean greeted with a humored grin as she sat near his bedside. “You’re looking slightly less miserable than usual.”
“Jeannie…you’re here,” he said, sounding as restless and angry as ever. “Good, that means I ain’t in hell yet.”
“No. You’re in the infirmary,” she informed him, “and you’ve just finished an extensive purge of every conceivable body fluid. It’s a miracle your insides are still in the right place.”
“Better double check. I think my liver’s in my colon,” Logan groaned.
Logan let out series of grunts, coupled with a string of profane curses. He was still in a great deal of discomfort. That was to be expected after the thorough treatment he got after returning from Japan.
After Emma knocked him out – and got him some pants, as well – they called Yukio to get them a quick transport out of Osaka. Since the pheromone was still in his system, they had to keep him unconscious for the entire trip back to Westchester. Along the way, SHIELD arrived to pick up Romulus. They also swept the facility, making a few arrests of the guests he’d invited to the auction. Maria Hill told them that most had escaped and would likely make trouble down the line. Hopefully, the Hellfire Club’s ruse would direct that trouble to all the wrong places.
During their sweep, SHIELD also uncovered some information about the pheromone that Romulus had used on Logan. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to work out a treatment for Logan. Upon returning to the Xavier Institute, Jean had Cecilia Reyes and Dr. Nemesis waiting for them, ready to purge the pheromone from Logan’s system.
Dr. Nemesis said it was just like getting a stomach pumped, but for the entire body. Dr. Reyes told her that even with a healing factor, Logan was going to very sore for a while. That was part of why Jean made sure she was present when he finally woke up. However, she had a much more pressing reason for being there.
“At least tell me I stabbed the right people,” Logan said after finishing his string of profanity. “Tell me I got a few shots on Romulus as well.”
“You don’t have to worry about him anymore,” Jean assured him. “As I speak, Romulus is on his way to the deepest, darkest pit SHIELD can find.”
“Ain’t dark or deep enough for me,” he snarled. “I need at least ten minutes in a windowless room with that dirt bag!”
“Logan…” said Jean, attempting to calm him down.
“For what he did to me…what he was gonna do…I’m gonna make him pay!” he went on, rising up in the bed.
“Logan…”
“He was gonna do it, Jeannie. He was gonna make me the meat puppet everyone’s been wanting since they shot me up with adamantium.”
“Logan!” Jean said, the heart-rate monitor beeping louder.
“I remember everything he did…how close he came to succeeding,” he said, now attempting to rip the IVs out of his arms. “I gotta find him…make him pay!”
“Logan stop!”
Jean placed a hand on his chest, which stopped him from pulling out the IVs. She was tempted to use her telekinesis to pin him to the bed, but after what he’d endured with Romulus, that wouldn’t have been fair.
Thankfully, her caring touch was enough. Logan, still fuming with anger and discomfort, settled under her concerned gaze. She knew how much he hated hospitals and infirmaries to begin with. The scars of Weapon X ran really that deep. However, those scars were secondary for once. There was another, more personal issue that they needed to confront.
“You’re angry, frustrated, and in a lot of discomfort. I get that,” Jean said in a calm, caring tone.
“Jeannie, you mean the world to me,” he told her, “but there’s only so much you can get with a guy like me.”
“That may be true for what Romulus put you through,” she conceded, “but there’s something else we need to discuss before you look for someone to stab…or, more accurately, someone.”
Logan shifted, his anger and frustration quickly turning into something else entirely. Like a heavy weight hitting his every limb, he fell back in the bed, looking like he’d rather fight Sabretooth than talk about this.
“Ah hell,” he cursed. “Why the hell do you always gotta fuck up my priorities?”
“Because you’re terrible at prioritizing. You acknowledged that the first week you were here,” Jean reminded him.
“I hate that your memory of those days is so damn good.”
“And you do plenty to prove that every time you run off to do your own thing,” Jean went on. “The X-men always have your back. I always have your back. But there’s only so much your friends can do when your personal battles take on more personal stakes…even when you don’t even know how personal they are.”
Logan fell silent, his expression tensing as he recalled the events of the past few days. Jean sensed him replaying every moment in his head. His memories might have been fractured, but some were still plenty vivid. The ones involving Daken were still fresh and already leaving scars every bit as bad as Weapon X.
Jean gave him as much time as he needed to collect his thoughts. She pulled back from the bed, the only sound in the room now coming from the heart-rate monitor. Learning about Daken was a big deal, just learning about Laura had been a big deal. She came into his life unexpectedly, albeit under different circumstances. Those circumstances had been rough, but they paled in comparison to Daken.
That didn’t even take into account the encounter Jean had with Daken during the rescue mission. However, she’d decided to keep that detail to herself for now. She figured Logan had enough to deal with already.
“So…I have a son,” Logan said, finally breaking the silence, “a son and a clone daughter.”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” said Jean with folded arms.
“Oh yeah? What’s the other?”
“You have a family,” she said, “a very unusual family, but still a family.”
“You almost make it sound like a good thing.”
“It can be,” she pointed out, “and that’s coming from someone whose family includes a biological son from a clone that I raised in the future.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that one,” said Logan, rolling his eyes. “It’s just that knowing I have a kid is tough enough, but the part that really bugs me…”
His words trailed off, devolving into another string of curses. Jean scooted in closer again and placed her hand on his in another comforting gesture. Logan might have been a brutish man by nature, but he wore his emotions on his sleeve. It didn’t take a telepath to sense what he was feeling.
“You’re worried about the implications,” she surmised, “that who his mother is, where he came from, and how he stayed hidden for so long will reveal something about your past…something you’d rather not know.”
“I wanna say ignorance is bliss, but it keeps biting me in the ass so damn much that I’m still waiting for the bliss,” Logan muttered.
“Then, I’ll skip the part where I try to convince you to confront this. Daken is still out there. SHIELD did a six-block sweep of the area when they picked up Romulus. They didn’t find a trace.”
“Of course they didn’t,” he said. “Now, he’s got no one holding him back and plenty of free time to hate my guts all he wants. I’m sure that’ll make for a happy reunion.”
The sarcasm in his voice, along with the weight of so many distressing possibilities, revealed a lot about a man who carried himself as such a loner. Logan was still figuring things out with Laura. The idea of dealing with another lost offspring in Daken had to be overwhelming, even for him.
Jean consoled her long-time friend and occasional lover as best she could, placing her hand over his and offering reassuring smile. While it did little to ease his concerns, it did help temper his mood.
“You’ll figure it out. You did it with Laura. You can do it with Daken,” Jean assured him.
“Between the goofy hair, the bad attitude, and that pheromone shit, it may take longer,” said Logan. “I ain’t looking forward to it and I doubt he will either. At least Laura kept things simple. First, she wanted to kill me. Then, she wanted my help.”
“Then, you’ll find another way. Daken may be different from Laura, but he’s still your son,” said Jean, her own experience with the man having colored her perceptions. “At the very least, him wanting to kill you shows that you matter to him.”
“That supposed to be encouraging?” he asked dryly.
“Think of it as context. You’re the kind of man whose life has been influenced by powerful forces…dangerous, sadistic forces that have tried to control you. Laura endured similar influences. We don’t know much about Daken, but if Romulus is any indication, he’s dealt with it too.”
“And probably scarred for life…or several,” made Logan.
“All the more reason to connect with him,” Jean retorted. “You two may never become the kind of father and son who go on fishing trips and fix motorcycles together, but take it from someone whose offspring are horribly scarred by apocalyptic futures…it’s never too late to influence your children in the right way.”
Logan still seemed skeptical. That, or he was still in too much discomfort to even think about what he would say to Daken. It was bound to be an unpleasant conversation, one that was sure to get messy, as was often the case whenever Logan learned something about his past.
Jean remained confident he could handle it, though. She’d seen him grow so much since he joined the X-men. She’d seen even more growth since Laura came into his life and since he got serious about his relationship with Storm. He was a man who sincerely wanted to build a better life and escape the monster he’d been in the past. Daken was now part of that past. It wouldn’t be easy to reconcile, but she intended to support him as any friend and occasional lover could…although that didn’t mean the Black Queen couldn’t help at times, either.
Reassured in Logan’s recovery, Jean gave him a soft kiss on the forehead and rose from her seat. Given his healing factor, he’d probably be on his feet and chugging beer by lunch.
“Give that some thought while you rest,” said Jean. “The rest of the team will be back tomorrow and I’m sure they’ll want to hear all about your long-lost son.”
“Looking forward to it,” he said dryly. “I’m sure Ro and Laura will be thrilled.”
“For your ever-growing family? How could they not?” she teased.
Logan rolled his eyes, but still cracked a smile. Jean was one of the few who could get him to do that, even when he was in a lousy mood. That was a good thing too because the ordeal wasn’t quite over for him.
Before she left the room, Jean telekinetically retrieved an ice pack from a nearby table and tossed it onto Logan’s lap.
“Also, you should probably hold onto this,” she told him.
“Why? My head ain’t throbbing that hard,” said Logan.
“Oh, that’s not for your head. It’s for your balls…or, at least, it will be.”
Logan shifted uncomfortably and cast her a look of confusion. If he weren’t still recovering from injuries and revelations about a long lost son, it would’ve been hilarious.
“Uh…any reason I should be worried about that?” he asked anxiously.
“If you remember what happened while you were under Romulus’ control, then yeah…you should have a clue,” said Jean. “For what Emma and Mary Jane did to free you…well, let’s just say you owe them.”
His expression shifted again and it was even more hilarious. Logan mumbled a string of curses to himself, shaking his head restlessly. He might not have been in control of himself, but he had to have remembered some of the details. He also had enough experience with the Hellfire Club to understand the implications.
“Fuck me,” the former living weapon groaned.
“Save it for later,” said Jean. “Emma and Mary Jane are already preparing a very special Danger Room scenario for you this evening. Parts of you are going to enjoy it…others, not so much. Just trust me when I say when all is said and done, you’ll be even.”
“At least tell me you’ll be there for moral support,” he said, likely contemplating the exceedingly kinky possibilities.
“Sorry, but this is between the three of you,” she said as she left the infirmary. “Besides, I have my own personal business to take care of before our friends get back.”
New York City, Chinatown – Later That Evening
‘Since I became the Black Queen of the Hellfire Club, I’ve found myself in situations where I have choices that I never would’ve had as Jean Grey-Summers, Marvel Girl, or even the Phoenix. Not all of them have to do with my sex life, but they reveal something critical about the kind of woman I am. Doing the right thing doesn’t always mean holding back. In fact, a little kink goes a long way towards making what feels right feel just as good.’
Sitting in a sushi bar, enjoying a bowl of noodles and some of New York’s finest Japanese cuisine, Jean Grey-Summers patiently waited for the last piece of an elaborate plan that had grown beyond a typical X-men mission. For the most part, the mission was complete. Logan had been rescued, Romulus had been imprisoned, and multiple evil organizations were now at each other’s throats, thanks some devious tactics that only the Hellfire Club dared to attempt.
Not long ago, Jean would’ve been content to leave it at that. Anything that didn’t involve the core details of a mission was just bonus and most X-men – as well as most costume heroes, for that matter – weren’t inclined to push their luck. A part of being heroes involved being satisfied with the basics. Conversely, the Hellfire Club was all about maximizing satisfaction and not just sexually.
As Jean Grey-Summers of the X-men, there was nothing left to do in the battle against Romulus. As the Black Queen of the Hellfire Club, though, there was one loose end that she refused to leave unresolved. She’d spent too much of her life leaving things unfinished or unresolved. She and her husband had tried to change that and part of that effort required the willing participation of someone with little incentive to offer it.
Jean arrived at the sushi bar with no guarantee that the person she’d contacted through the Hellfire Club’s secure network would show up. It probably would’ve been easier for them to just ignore it entirely and move on from there. She chose to trust that the person who received her message also understood why this issue could not be ignored. Before she’d even finished her meal, her trust was rewarded.
“You have good tastes, Mrs. Grey-Summers,” greeted a familiar voice, “and more refined pallet than most American women.”
“I’m glad you appreciate that, Daken,” said Jean, not even looking up from her meal. “I also appreciate you coming all this way, knowing you had plenty of reasons to cash in that free plane ticket I sent and hit the nearest karaoke bar.”
“I was never much of a singer. I’m also not a fan of leaving business unfinished.”
“Like father like son, indeed,” she said with a half-smile.
“Don’t push it. I’m not ready to accept that as a compliment.”
He still sounded angry, bitter, and exceedingly arrogant. In that sense, he was quite distinct from his father. Jean had sensed that during their previous encounter. Meeting him in public, his mind no longer obscured by Romulus’ manipulation, further highlighted those distinctions.
Jean still greeted him with a friendly smile. Daken didn’t smile back, but the fact he’d shown up really encouraged her. Even so, she didn’t assume too much. He was hardly dressed for a high-end sushi bar, wearing a hoodie with black jeans. She didn’t blame him, either.
Daken didn’t exactly have a spotless record in the eyes of the authorities, both local and international. His work with Romulus had given him a bloody record to say the least. SHIELD still had him listed as a person of interest for many of Romulus’ activities, which was usually code for immediate detention. While not quite on the same level as his father, he had a long way to go before he could walk around in the open without added scrutiny and him being in a SHIELD holding sell would do more harm than good.
Regardless of his record, he sat down at the table across from Jean. She’d made sure they had a table in the corner where they wouldn’t be bothered. Logan knew the head chef of the sushi bar and gladly accommodated her request for privacy. For what she and Daken had to discuss, they couldn’t risk too much exposure and not just due to Romulus’ lingering influence.
“I almost didn’t come here,” Daken admitted, grabbing her half-empty glass of wine and gulping it down. “I came close to turning back more than once at the airport.”
“And yet, you’re here,” Jean pointed out.
“Yes, I’m here. Throw a parade, if you wish,” he said, “but don’t think for a second that I’m here out of guilt or regret.”
“I’m psychic, Daken. I promise that thought never crossed my mind more than once,” said Jean, taking another bite of her sushi.
“Then, don’t expect me to explain myself, either. If you’ve read my mind, then you know where I come from and what I’ve been through. And there isn’t a damn thing you can say to make me apologize for my actions.”
“I wasn’t going to ask that of you. And I don’t need your apology to forgive you. I’ve already done that, Daken.”
“Yes, you are disgustingly forgiving,” said Daken dryly. “It’s why people like you become superheroes and people like me…well, like you said, you’re psychic. You already know.”
There was plenty of harshness to his tone, but also plenty of pain. Jean had heard it before and from Logan, fittingly enough. Harsh circumstances and deep scars had a way of hardening someone, even when offered compassion. Jean sensed in Daken a level of pain that had affected him very differently compared to Logan or X-23. As such, she couldn’t confront him the same way.
Setting aside her unfinished meal, Jean narrowed her gaze on the man sitting across from her. She watched as he pulled back his hoodie, revealing his distinct hair style and part of his elaborate tattoos that covered the left side of his neck. His life had taken such a different path, compared to his father, but they had both been victimized by similar tragedies.
“For the record, I didn’t read all your thoughts,” Jean pointed out. “I just gleaned over the basics.”
“How polite of you,” Daken said dryly.
“It was more than enough to learn the critical parts of your story,” she said, “like how Romulus used you by having Winter Soldier murder your mother and blame Logan for it. From your adopted parents to your training, he controlled the course of your life. He made it so that from the day you were born, you were his pawn.”
“Be careful with how you interpret my life, Ms. Grey-Summers,” he warned her. “Even with Romulus’ defeat, there are certain scars that run deep…some of which are far deeper than they were before our encounter.”
“I don’t doubt that. You’ve spent a lifetime being influenced by men like Romulus, knowing nothing but hate, arrogance, and bloodlust. Even without the influence of pheromones, that sort of thing can’t be brushed off easily.”
“Spare me your pity, but I’ll accept your understanding,” said Daken, finally showing some signs of humility. “I guess if there’s one trait I don’t mind sharing with my father, it’s our aversion to being controlled.”
“Which gives me genuine hope that you’re capable of being better than your attitude would suggest,” Jean said with a bemused grin, “and the X-men are nothing if not hopeful.”
“If you’re going to try and recruit me, save your breath. I’ve no desire to join the X-men…not now, not in the absence of my father, and not for the foreseeable future.”
“I noticed you didn’t say never,” said Jean with a coy grin.
“Don’t take that as a sign,” he quipped. “I don’t like speaking in absolutes. That’s what made Romulus such a manipulative piece of shit. As it stands, I’m still uncertain about the path before me. I still have many choices to make, but I intend to make them without certain influences.”
Daken came off as more serious and sincere. Having had so many life choices made for him, either by circumstance or by Romulus, Jean couldn’t blame him for wanting to chart his own course. It wasn’t clear how much those choices involved him crossing paths with his father or the X-men again, but she wasn’t about to nudge him in any particular direction. She’d learned from her own experience that such choices had to be made freely and willingly.
That didn’t keep Jean from holding out hope that Daken would eventually become an ally to the X-men and a part of Logan’s growing family. It might take a while. Daken still carried himself with more arrogance and callousness than most, even for those associated with Logan. She was willing to be patient, but she was just as willing to create other opportunities along the way.
“Then, I suppose the most I can do is wish you the best in making those choices,” said Jean. “Whatever they end up being, I hope they bring you happiness.”
“After what I’ve been through, happiness is hardly the primary goal…or even a secondary one, for that matter,” said Daken. “For now, I’ll settle for clarity, vindication, and maybe a little vengeance.”
“Sounds like you’ve got your priorities in line,” said Jean. “Just remember that if you ever need allies who don’t want to manipulate you…well, you know where to find us.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but not the subtext,” he said with a half-grin. “I know that’s what Jean Grey-Summers, the proud X-men and well-known superhero, wants to say. For the rest of my stay, though, I need to speak to the Black Queen.”
Jean’s expression shifted, taking on the devious, yet playful grin that she’d grown so fond of since joining the Hellfire Club. Daken responded with a glance of his own. The arrogance turned to intrigue, as though the darker part of her persona interested him far more than the caring, charitable woman who was the face of the X-men. She even shared some of that intrigue, almost to the point of being aroused by it.
It was still a strange feeling, having suppressed that part of her persona for so long. She’d learned how to channel it into productive, not to mention satisfying, ways in recent times. She figured Daken would respond better to that persona. That was encouraging. It also meant his choices might benefit the both of them.
“I take it that means we’re going to talk about less pleasant issues…relatively speaking,” said Jean in a tone befitting of the Black Queen.
“There’s nothing relative about it,” said Daken. “I may not have been in control or able to choose, but I know what happened during our previous encounter.”
“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten either,” she said. “I still have the scratches and bite marks to prove it.”
“Then, I hope you haven’t forgotten why I did it,” he went on. “It wasn’t entirely a matter of choice. It wasn’t a matter of me being Romulus’ pawn either. It was a situation where there were no good choices and no clear alternatives to pursue.”
“Somehow, I doubt this is leading towards an apology.”
“I don’t apologize, Ms. Grey-Summers…not for circumstances I cannot control…not for actions that I’ve no reason to regret. I don’t see much merit in seeking forgiveness for something that doesn’t bother me beyond a certain context.”
Jean’s gaze narrowed with a mix of criticism and disdain. Daken was clearly not as empathetic as his father. He didn’t seem to feel guilty in the same way Logan did whenever he lost control. Logan often tortured himself for the terrible things he did while under the influence of others. Daken barely seemed bothered by it. He didn’t come off as a complete sociopath, but it did make clear that he saw his attack on her in a particular light.
“The only thing about that situation that troubles me – which is also the reason we’re meeting in person rather than resolving this over the phone – is the imbalance of it all,” said Daken.
“Imbalance? Is that what you want to call it?” questioned Jean.
“Yes, and for good reason,” he went on. “Romulus was a lying, cheating, manipulative piece of shit, but he did teach me one important lesson. When you’ve hurt another, directly or indirectly, it creates a disparity. Call it karma. Call it reciprocity. Call it whatever spiritual bullshit you want. The effect is the same. Leave that disparity unaddressed…let it linger and grow over time…and eventually, it’ll come back to bite you.”
“And not in the kinky sort of way,” said Jean.
“No. Not in the slightest,” said Daken, still dead serious. “Romulus created many disparities with his actions…as have I, even without his influence. If I’m to have any hope of forging my own path, I cannot have such burdens holding me back. While there are some I can do nothing about, there are others I can control.”
His tone shifted once more, becoming both sincere and somewhat seductive. Jean then sensed him reach under the table, take her hand, and place it on his thigh. He even made it a point to have her squeeze it, but not in a way that conveyed affection or desire. Instead, he had her touch him in a way that showed clear, overt dominance.
That aroused Jean to an extent that she didn’t bother hiding. She could already feel a heat forming between her thighs, making her panties feel extra moist. Becoming the Black Queen had given her plenty of fondness for certain forms of domination. Emma and Mary Jane often commented how quickly she’d embraced it. If they had known some of the kinky activities that she and Scott did on their off-nights, their jaws would’ve hit the floor.
She wasn’t sure Daken knew what he was getting into, beyond just balancing things out. If he was serious, then she was even more encouraged by his choices.
“And here I was hoping I could just guilt you into simple revenge sex,” said Jean.
“Oh please,” he scoffed, “I save the simpler forms of intimacy for those too foolish to appreciate it. But you, Jean Grey-Summers…you’re not that foolish.”
“No. I’m not,” she said sternly, now speaking with the full authority of the Black Queen. “I should warn you, Daken…I’m a woman who spent most of her life repressing every deviant impulse she’s ever had. It’s only recently I’ve begun exploring them and…well, let’s just say it can get a little hectic.”
“I pity those who aren’t durable or capable of enduring such passions,” said Daken, her stern tone seeming to arouse him.
“You really think you could handle my passions?” she said, almost threateningly. “That – after what you did to me – you could subject yourself to my whims and come out of it in one piece?”
“You can stop making it sound so appealing,” he teased. “I’ve already made my choice. This is how I want to finish the situation that began with our first encounter.”
“And you think that’ll balance things out?”
“If you can think of a way more fitting and satisfying, I’d love to hear it.”
He grabbed her hand again and guided it up his thigh, eventually reaching hardened bulge that had already formed in his pants. The proved there was nothing subversive about Daken’s sentiment. He meant what he said. He was even aroused by the idea.
‘He really wants this. I can sense him lowering his psychic defenses. He doesn’t just want me to fuck him as hard as he fucked me. He wants me to outright attack him with my lust. God help me, I want to! I don’t know if he’s using that pheromone trick of his, but fuck I want to!’
Jean’s thoughts raced and her loins moistened. When she chose to reach out to Daken, she’d hoped to get some kind of recourse for what he did to her. She didn’t assume it would take the form of kinky sex. If anything, that was a long-shot at best. It seemed as though Daken was either that willing to go the extra mile. That, or maybe he just had far kinkier tastes than his father. It was probably a combination of the two.
“Can’t say anything comes to mind. Can’t say I want to try too hard, either,” said Jean, unable to hide her lust and excitement.
“Good,” grinned Daken. “I’d rather you save such efforts for more intimate settings.”
“Funny you should say that,” she said. “There’s an S&M dungeon just a few blocks from here…one that just so happens to owe the Hellfire Club a few favors.”
“I’m familiar with your organizations many connections, Ms. Grey-Summers. I don’t see how that’s funny or surprising.”
Reacting on kinky whim – the same whims she once held back – Jean squeezed the bulge in Daken’s pants, so much so that he winced. She was neither gentle nor seductive with her touch. At that moment, the diplomatic persona that Jean had adopted for this encounter disappeared. Instead, the domineering Black Queen that so skillfully used submissive men for her pleasure took hold.
“That’s Mistress Grey-Summers, to you,” Jean said firmly. “You’re talking to the goddamn Black Queen now. You’ve made your choice and I’ve made mine. That means I’m paying the damn bill, we’re going to that dungeon, and you’re going to spend the rest of the night being my submissive little fuck toy. Is that understood?”
She squeezed hid dick through his pants even harder, causing him to wince again. It clearly hurt, but Daken still seemed to enjoy it. If anything, it got him even more excited for the kinky exploits that lay before them.
“Yes, my Mistress. By all means…lead the way!”
New York City – Red Palace S&M Dungeon
Strange things happened in the minds of the sexually repressed. Even powerful telepaths struggled to understand it. As complex as the mind could be, sometimes the simplest of acts – or their absence, as it were – had a way of warping desires, proclivities, and the overall breadth of one’s sexuality. Jean Grey-Summers didn’t know just how much repression had shaped her sexuality in the past, but it certainly made some interesting results in the present.
“Eyes forward,” the Black Queen commanded as she shoved Daken forward. “Keep moving, slave!”
“I’m moving as fast as I can, Mistress,” said Daken with playful submissiveness.
“Shut up!” she barked while holding the back of his neck firmly. “Only your mistress can make that judgement.”
Daken fell silent, although he did a poor job of hiding his excitement. Jean had been exceedingly harsh with him since they left the sushi bar, treating him like a prisoner who’d just turned himself in and was in need of punishment.
As soon as they were outside, the authoritative persona of the Black Queen took over. Jean got behind Daken, pushed him forward, and led him down two blocks of busy New York City streets to an S&M dungeon that already knew her well. She didn’t even have to make an appointment. As soon as she sent a text message to the owner, who had ties to Emma Frost, she had special chamber reserved and ready for Daken’s judgment.
Jean was intentionally pushy with him, treating him like the same way an overbearing master would treat an insubordinate slave. In the world of S&M, it was the simplest possible approach. Jean had exercised it before with Scott, the Hellfire guards, and a few other lovers. She was usually more measured in exercising the authority of the Black Queen, but the way Daken enjoyed it gave Jean more incentive to push her domineering sexuality even further.
“You need my righteous judgement,” she told him, leaning in and whispering into his ear. “You want balance? You want to right the wrongs you need to right?”
“Yes, Mistress. I want that,” Daken said intently.
“Then you need me,” Jean said sternly, “and you need to do exactly what I say.”
She felt Daken tremble with excitement as they made their way to the VIP chamber. They had just entered the dungeon through a special side-entrance reserved for high-paying customers. The owner knew to keep the halls clear and the scrutiny to a minimum. Mary Jane once joked that they could perform open-heart surgery in a pool of pig’s blood in those chambers and nobody would bat an eye, so long as someone got off on it.
Jean didn’t expect to need anything that elaborate to render her judgement against Daken, but she was going to make the most of the opportunity before her. When else was she going to get to dominate a man with such a robust healing factor?
“What I’m going to do to you…after what you did to me…you better brace yourself!” Jean told him.
“I already am, Mistress,” said Daken, goading her with his wry tone.
She roughed him up a little more, shoving him forward and adding a little telekinesis to the mix. They had just ascended a flight of dank stairs in which the walls had been adorned with various S&M art and bondage tools. She’d purposefully tripped him up along the way, forcing him to taste the dirty floor so that he got a feel for what a lowly slave he was. He seemed to get the message, but kept egging her on.
After exiting the stairwell, they entered a hall that had been decorated like an old medieval castle. Emma told her that some of the artifacts had been imported from Latveria. Along with the dank, dirty air so typical of a dungeon, it set the perfect ambience for S&M.
Upon reaching the end of the hall, Jean showed more assertiveness, grabbing Daken by the neck and pushing him right up against the door. She then held him there with a wall of telekinesis, leaving him prone and vulnerable. However, she could still see the perverse grin on his face. He was still enjoying it a bit too much for her tastes.
“Your punishment awaits, Daken,” Jean said sternly. “Now, get inside!”
“Yes, my Mistress,” said Daken, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and arousal.
Despite being pinned, the feral man reached over and unlocked the heavy chamber door. It had to be heavy because, like every wall and entrance in the dungeon, it was sound-proofed. That way, no one could hear the cries for mercy from the submissives.
Jean had every intention of wiping that grin of Daken’s face when she pulled the door open with her telekinesis and shoved him inside. Just as she’d hoped, the owner had prepared it to the same specifications he did with Emma and Mary Jane.
It was a perfect blend of a dungeon and a luxury hotel suite, complete with a fancy bed that just happened to have chain-link restraints, blindfolds, gags, and multiple whips within reaching distance. It also had more kinky art adorning the walls, each depicting various acts of decadence and debauchery. There was also an assortment of S&M style furniture, including chairs with special restraints and a table armed with shackles. It was all illuminated by an assortment of old-world chandeliers and torch-like lights.
Such a setting used to make Jean uncomfortable. Now, it made her excited and very horny. The idea that she could use everything in the room to dominate, torment, and exploit Daken for her own pleasure was enough to make her feel moist between her thighs. However, just enjoying some kinky sex was not the sole purpose of this endeavor.
“Up against the wall. Now!” she barked.
Daken, after stumbling halfway through the room from Jean’s shoving, practically ran up to the dirty stone wall. She didn’t need to add any telekinetic force. He just did what she said, as a good submissive should. It was a promising start, but he still had a long way to go.
“Turn around,” Jean ordered as she approached him, “arms up over your head.”
“Yes, Mistress,” said Daken obediently.
He did as he was told and with less attitude. There was still an arrogance to his demeanor, but Jean suspected that just might be part of his personality. She didn’t mind, though. That just meant she had more incentive to dominate him.
With his back now against the wall, his arms at an angle, Jean used her telekinesis to retrieve a couple wrist-shackles hanging from the wall. They weren’t the soft kind either. They were made of real metal with real locks. As she used them to secure his wrists, trapping him against the wall like a common prisoner, they made plenty of noise. She needed him to feel like he was in a real dungeon.
“Bound like a slave,” Jean commented, “but still in need of discipline. You’re a bad, bad man, Daken.”
“You have no idea, Mistress,” said Daken, looking too comfortable to be in shackles.
“You’re right. I don’t. What you did to me back in Japan…that was probably a fraction of what you did under Romulus’ orders. Guess that means I’ll have to punish you that much more.”
In a show of escalating dominance, Jean walked up to him and grabbed him by the neck. She then choked him hard, causing him to gasp at first. However, he kept on grinning. Again, he seemed to enjoy it. He just wouldn’t stop tempting her. In some ways, it frustrated Jean. In others, it excited her even more.
“As an X-man, I’m surrounded by a lot of good, honorable men,” she went on. “It’s rare that I find myself in the presence of someone so overtly deviant. It’s even rarer I have an opportunity to punish one in a way I can enjoy.”
As Jean said those words, her grip on his neck loosened and she sensually trailed her hand down Daken’s chest. While not built the same way as Logan, Daken still had a very strong physique. She intended to test that physique, as well as his devious proclivities.
“I’m going to make use of this opportunity,” Jean said, “and you’re going to accept that punishment like a good, humble slave.”
“I will, Mistress. I will!” he said eagerly.
“And the first step in being a humble slave is dressing the part,” she added.
Taking a step back for a brief moment, Jean summoned a bit of her Phoenix powers, briefly surrounding her body in a cosmic halo. She then directed that power at Daken, using it to dematerialize his clothes, causing his hoodie, pants, boots, and underwear to disappear as though they’d been burnt off.
It was meant to be a demonstration of her power, but it also gave Jean a more complete view of Daken’s physique. Having not been able to admire it during their first encounter, she found herself admiring him. However, she only did so to the extent that a queen admired a new toy.
“There…much better,” she said with a lurid grin. “Exposed, bound, and at my mercy…just like a slave should be.”
“For you, Mistress, there can be nothing less,” said Daken.
He almost sounded proud of his disposition. That, or he sensed how much she liked what she saw. Before becoming the Black Queen, Jean rarely let herself admire thee male physique. Then, after spending some time with Emma Frost and Mary Jane, she learned quickly to appreciate the beauty of masculine flesh.
Daken was so fit, his body so tightly packed with muscle. He was not as large as Logan, in terms of build, but he made up for that with style and endowment. Unlike his father, he had little body hair. In fact, if the scent of male skin-care and hair-care products were any indication, Daken washed, shaved, and pampered himself as much as Emma Frost on a spa day. The added presence of the tattoo that covered half his body, as well as a sizable cock that was comparable to his father, the man had unique sex appeal…the kind that appealed to more than just women.
With critical eye, like a woman scrutinizing a new piece of jewelry, Jean approached the bound man and casually trailed her fingers over the sinews of his upper body. She was gentle in some areas, but rough in others, much to Daken’s amusement.
“Your vanity reveals a lot about you,” Jean commented. “You take such pride in your appearance, as well as your abilities. I’ve known your father to wear the same pair of boxer shorts for two week. I doubt you wear anything that isn’t on par with Milan imports.”
“You are observant, Mistress,” said Daken.
“Compliments won’t earn you mercy,” said Jean, clenching his neck again. “I also sense a great deal of flexibility in your sexual pursuits. I didn’t just glean that from your thoughts, either. Your history reveals a man who embraces deviance in many forms.”
“I like to think I’m…adaptive,” he said in a boastful tone.
“In certain areas, you probably are. In others – namely the ones I’ll be testing tonight – well, that remains to be seen!”
She released her grip on his neck again. She then used her telekinesis to retrieve a blindfold from a nearby table across the room. With skill she’d refined from her various S&M experience at the Hellfire Club, she put it on Daken’s face and secured it so that he was fully blinded.
“Most who submit to me have a specific fetish in mind,” said Jean, “one that allows them to carry out a specific task, relative to a certain fantasy. For you, though – a man who embraces deviance and flaunts his sexual malleability – I’ve no intention of being that specific.”
Jean let Daken contemplate that as she prepared. While he hung there against the wall, bound and blindfolded, she telekinetically opened a dresser that sat on the far side of the room. From it, she retrieved her favorite S&M outfit, which Emma and Mary Jane helped her design the day after she joined the Hellfire Club.
The outfit consisted of black thigh-high stiletto boots that attached to a garter around her waist, a revealing black thong that barely covered her private areas, matching arm-length leather gloves, a leather corset that was specifically cut to allow her breasts to hang out, and a spiked collar. Using the same trick she’d used with Daken, she summoned her Phoenix powers to dematerialize her clothes, rendering her temporarily nude. She then put on the provocative attire, making sure Daken heard the leather slapping against her skin as she secured the gloves, thong, and boots.
In addition to her bawdy attire, she used a leather band to bind her hair in a tight bun. Now dressed in full S&M attire, Jean Grey-Summers felt the full persona of the Black Queen take over. She was no longer the kind, compassionate woman who helped innocent mutants as an X-man and conducted herself like a hero. She was a deviant, promiscuous, hardcore bitch on a power trip.
‘I’ll never get used to this feeling…the authority and the power to satisfy my every desire. I doubt I’ll get tired of it, either!’
With a devious grin that would’ve made Sinister tremble, the Black Queen stormed over to Daken. In a show of her dominance, she roughly pressed her forearm up against his neck while firmly grabbing his balls.
“Ack!” Daken choked, his expression finally changing.
“In this domain, I am the queen. You are the slave,” Jean told him. “Your pain and pleasure is mine to control.”
She choked him harder, adding more pressure to his neck and his balls. Daken choked and gagged again, coughing under her domination. In such an overt exercise of force, Jean felt a surge of adrenaline, coupled with excitement. Both soon converged to create an intense state of arousal. She could already feel an intense heat between her thighs, her pussy becoming very moist in anticipation.
As aroused as she felt, though, the Black Queen’s priorities weren’t solely on pursuing her own pleasure. There would be plenty of time for that. The memories of what Daken did to her when he had her under his control were still fresh in his mind. From her perspective, that had to be balanced before either of them could get what they sought.
“But for what you did to me,” Jean went on, “it’s necessary to impart pain before extracting pleasure. And since you’re so tough and durable, I’ll just have to be extra thorough.”
She choked and squeezed him a little harder, causing more coughs and groans. That was just a taste of what was in store for him. When she finally released him, she barely gave him enough time to catch his breath.
“Mistress,” he gasped. “Please…punish me.”
“Ha! You think you can take my punishment?” scoffed the Black Queen.
“For my mistress…I must.”
He almost sounded desperate, like a man who craved punishment. He’d been dead serious about balancing his misdeeds. In fact, Daken seemed excited by the prospect. It showed in the way his dick became semi-erect.
That just gave Jean even more motivation to hasten her punishment. Using her telekinesis once more, she retrieved the biggest, hardest whip that had been mounted on the wall near the bed. It was not the playful kind of whip, either. There were no feathers, padding, or safety features of any kind. It was a real whip that real masters used on their slaves, complete with a special tip that was intended to wound flesh.
Jean had only used it a handful of times, but in a very limited capacity. Some of the Hellfire Guards were trained for such extreme S&M acts. However, she still had to be careful with them. They were just mindless servants and their flesh was still very human. Daken, however, was very different.
He wasn’t just tougher and more durable, thanks to his healing factor. He was an unapologetically devious man who’d used his pheromone powers to fuck her. She might never have a better opportunity to punish a man while also exercising her kinkiest desires.
“In that case, my slave,” the Black Queen said, now gripping the whip firmly, “accept your punishment!”
Without reservation of any kind, Jean struck Daken with the whip. She hit him right across the chest, the heavy tip tearing into his flesh and leaving a sizable mark. He winced at the pain that followed, parts of his flesh bruising as a result. However, his healing factor went to work and the wound disappeared within seconds.
Jean, emboldened by seeing Daken’s ability to take it, gripped the whip harder and prepared to strike again. This time, she put even more force behind it, striking Daken around the abdomen, leaving an even bigger mark than before. She didn’t let his healing factor kick in too quickly, either. She continued hitting him with a steady succession of strikes.
“That’s it, slave! Take it!” the Black Queen barked. “Take…your…punishment!”
“Aaghhh!” Daken groaned.
Jean didn’t let up, keeping up with Daken’s healing factor and striking him repeatedly with unrelenting fervor. She didn’t aim for one particular piece of flesh. She just struck wherever he was vulnerable, creating fresh bruises all over his body. Some were black and blue. Some bled briefly before his healing factor closed them up. In any case, there was plenty of pain…a pain she delivered with overwhelming authority.
“You want this pain! You need this pain, don’t you?” she went on.
“Ungh!” Daken groaned, just as the whip struck him across the face.
“Say it!” Jean barked, striking him harder on the same spot. “Your mistress asked you a question. Answer!”
“Hnn…yes!” he exclaimed.
Jean swore there was a touch of excitement mixed in with the pain. She even noticed his cock twitch accordingly, which was still semi-erect. Either his sexuality was just that flexible or there were other forces at work.
‘He’s enjoying this…embracing it, even. Is this a kink of his? Or am I just making that much of an impression?’
It was hard to tell how deep Daken’s perversions went. Jean didn’t bother probing. She just focused on exercising the full range of her authority over him, inflicting the kind of pain such a deviant man deserved. She let herself be more reckless than usual, not holding back with every strike. She even put some extra telekinetic force behind it, creating a few extra-large wounds on his torso, legs, and arms.
The sound of whip cracking, followed by Daken’s pained moans, reverberated throughout the dungeon. Hard leather clashed with exposed flesh, creating a symphony of pain that was as punishing as it was visceral. Eventually, the Black Queen struck nearly every inch of Daken’s exposed body. The fact he was blindfolded ensured he couldn’t even brace himself. It wasn’t just exhilarating. It deepened her arousal.
“You feel it? That hard…stinging…pain?” she said in between strikes. “That’s me…giving you mercy. This pain…has purpose. It doesn’t just punish. It liberates!”
She struck him extra hard on the chest, hitting one of his nipples. That got Daken to wince harder, clenching his fists within his shackles. However, the pain only seemed to hurt to a point.
“Aaghhh! So…liberating!” he exclaimed.
“Your liberation…is my domination,” she added before striking him again.
After hitting him a few more times, she had to stop. It wasn’t because she felt Daken had endured enough punishment, though. Her arm had gotten tired and her heart was racing so fast from the adrenaline that she had to slow down. She was also so aroused that her legs barely carried her. At some point, the pleasure had to balance out the pain.
Before they got to that part though, Jean decided to exercise one last bit of dominance. Throwing the whip aside, she retrieved a couple of nipple clamps from the dresser next to the bed. She then stormed over to him, pushed him up against the wall again, and pulled off his blindfold.
“Look at me, Daken. Look your mistress in the eye,” she said with a mix of authority and seduction. “Tell me…what do you see?”
“Mistress,” he said, breathless by a mix of pain and awe. “I see…power.”
“What kind of power?” the Black Queen demanded, shoving her forearm against his neck again.
“Beautiful…righteous…power,” he told her.
“You’re goddamn right!”
As if to belabor that point, she took the two nipple clamps in hand and attached them to his nipples, which were still throbbing from the whip. Then, just as Daken winced from the discomfort, she grabbed his head and shoved it between her breasts. It marked the first time she injected a little mercy into his punishment.
“Here!” Jean told him. “Immerse yourself in my power.”
She was somewhat playful, but still plenty authoritative. She even mashed her breasts together, surrounding his face in her flesh. She also shoved her exposed tits in his face, getting him suck on them, which evoked in her the first sensations of pleasure beyond simply punishing a man who wronged her.
It was a simple, but effective act…one augmented by the rush of such dominance. Emma once told Jean that dominance during sex was like hot fudge over ice cream. It made something that was already delicious even more savory. Jean had been skeptical of such a claim, at first, but she had since been convinced.
“You feel that, Daken?” she told him, his face still buried in her breasts. “You are now completely under my power.”
Jean shoved her breasts together a few more times, almost suffocating him with her cleavage, before finally pulling back and letting him breathe. When Daken finally gasped in relief, he had a dazed, yet satisfied grin on his face. Even with the presence of the nipple clamps and the various bruises from the whip that hadn’t healed, a touch of pleasure had finally entered the equation. He was now entering that special place where the lines between pain and pleasure became blurred.
Within that daze, Daken gazed upon her with a mix of reverence and desperation. It was ironic, yet fitting. He fought so hard to escape Romulus’ control. Now, he wanted to be controlled by her.
“Thank you…my Mistress,” he said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” the Black Queen said sternly. “Submitting to your mistress’ power is just the first step. Pleasing her is the next…one that requires more than just obedience.”
“I shall obey,” Daken said to her. “Whatever my Mistress requires of me…I will do.”
“Spoken like a true slave,” she said with a grin.
Jean rewarded his obedience thus far, caressing the side of his face in an affectionate gesture. Her breasts were still right in front of him, but that alone wasn’t going to be enough to satisfy her. He knew that as well as her.
By now, much of the bruises she’d caused from the whip had healed. Her arousal had also become unbearable. Her pussy ached for the kind of sex that only a submissive slave could provide. Daken’s cock, now almost fully-erect after tasting her breasts, looked ready to oblige.
Knowing he could not hope to satisfy her while chained to the wall, the Black Queen used her telekinesis to undo the locks that held the chains to the wall. She still kept his wrists bound, though, making sure they remained weighed down by the heavy shackles. Now on his feet, his body still shuddering from the pain, Jean grabbed his shoulder and shoved him towards the bed.
“March, my slave,” Jean ordered. “We shall finish your domination in the bed.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Daken said eagerly, the lingering pain doing little to slow him.
He stood fully upright like a marching soldier. Jean still pushed him around, maintaining her dominance every step of the way. Upon reaching the foot of the bed, she grabbed his shoulders again and turned him around so that he faced her. Then, she used her telekinesis to levitate him up in the air.
“As with pain, pleasure requires submission,” she said strongly.
She held him in mid-air for a few moments, stretching out his limbs and legs, rendering him more prone to her power. Even though she was somewhat rough, Daken seemed to enjoy it, grinning at the feeling of her having such a firm grip on him.
The Black Queen maintained that telekinetic hold as she practically slammed him down onto the center of the bed, pulling his arms out in the process so that his body formed a T-shape. Then, using the shackles still attached to his wrists, she attached to chains to a special locking mechanism at the upper corners of the bed. In addition, she pulled back some of the linens and used them to tie his feet together, rendering him bounce once more, albeit in a different position.
“There!” said Jean, admiring her handiwork. “That should suffice.”
“I trust your judgement, Mistress,” said Daken, sounding even more excited.
“Of course you do, slave,” she scoffed, “but your submission is only the first step.”
With her submissive secured, Jean walked over to the side of the bed next so that she hovered right over the bound man. She made sure she cast a long, imposing shadow over him. She must have looked like a titan in the light of the chamber. It had the desired effect. He continued gazing up at her with a mix of reverence and submission.
As she stood over him, Jean opened a nearby drawer and retrieved a special red candle. Then, using a touch of her Phoenix Force powers, she lit the wick and let it burn. It happened to be one of those specialized candles that melted quickly, creating a sizable pool of wax. It happened to be one of her and Scott’s favorite kinks. With Daken, though, she made sure there was extra wax.
“I’ve inflicted plenty of pain,” Jean told him as she held the burning candle up, “but going from pain to pleasure can be a tricky process. In order to maximize your submission – for my benefit and yours – you must know both.”
The candle still in hand, she cast Daken a domineering, yet seductive glance before crawling onto the bed with him. She continued holding the candle above him, building up the anticipation. While his gaze was focused on the candle, though, she skillfully reached down to his cock and grasped it firmly. Instinctively, he tensed under her grasp. At that exact moment, though, she poured the pool of hot wax onto his chest.
“Oohhh!” he cried out in a perfect mix of pain and pleasure.
Jean felt his whole body tense in its bound state, the wax burning his exposed flesh while she skillfully stroked his cock with her free hand. As the wax hardened on his skin, still burning areas still tender from his whipping, she jerked him off to get the blood flowing into his member.
His breathing intensified. The look on his face twitched with a mix of excitement and discomfort. Still hovering over him, Jean made sure every last drop of wax had been spread over his torso. By the time it fully hardened, his dick was as hard as a rock.
“My Mistress…mercy,” gasped Daken, his face writhing from the sensations.
“You dare beg for mercy already?” Jean scoffed, pretending to be appalled.
“No!” he said instinctively. “Do not grant me mercy…not yet. I crave…I need your righteous authority.”
Jean cast him an approving grin. He’d somehow descended deeper into that special daze, one in which a submissive becomes so captivated by another’s dominance that his desires were directly tied to hers. He wasn’t just a slave anymore. What he craved and she sought were no longer separate. They were one in the same now, a perfect storm of kink, as it were.
“Then, you shall have it…on my terms,” the Black Queen said.
“I’d have it no other way,” Daken told her.
Emboldened and empowered, Jean put out the candle and threw it across the room. She then stood up on the bed, casting another large shadow over her submissive, and removed her thong. He was now looking right up at her pussy, which had become unbearably hot with arousal. Streaks of feminine juices were already dripping down her inner thighs. She even saw Daken lick his lips in anticipation, as though her flesh was the only sustenance he craved.
In that moment of converged desires, Jean positioned herself over him so that both feet were planted firmly at his side. She then lowered herself down onto him, squatting right over the tip of his rigid cock. His upper body still covered with hardened wax, she grasped his waist, digging her nails into his torso. Then, with a single plunge of the hips, she drove her pussy down onto his cock.
“Ohhh yes!” Jean exclaimed, seething with a mix of power and lust.
“My…my Mistress,” Daken gasped, sounding downright enchanted as her tight folds surrounded his cock.
Exercising the full force of her authority, the Black Queen rode his cock hard and fast. There was nothing affectionate or mutual about her approach. As her hips moved, her pelvis slamming down against his, an onslaught of intense sensations coursed through her. It was just her pursuing raw, unfiltered pleasure from her slave.
‘This is what I wanted. This man used me. Now, I’m using him and it feels fucking amazing!’
It was a total role reversal from their previous encounter. Instead of being at his mercy, he was at hers. The only difference was that he had willingly submitted, subjecting herself to the desires of someone he’d wrong. It wasn’t just about making up for a misdeed. It was about pursuing a shared recourse, one that would balance out the past for the sake of the future.
That immediate future was very enticing, at least for Jean. She rode Daken’s cock so hard that he tensed a few times, both from the sheer force of her movements and the heat surrounding his dick. She also raked her nails along his flesh, which was still covered in hardened wax, leaving significant scratch marks along the way. She was more fervent with him than she’d been with anyone else, including the Hellfire Club’s servants.
In between the distress, though, she still sensed Daken enjoying their rough and reckless sex. He seemed to really like it rough, which she’d also sensed in him during their first encounter. He was going to enjoy it too, no matter how hard she fucked him. That was good because it meant Jean didn’t have to hold back, but if he was going to enjoy it, then it had to be on her term.
“Yes! Your mistress…likes this cock!” the Black Queen seethed as she rode him harder. “This hard…throbbing cock…is mine to enjoy!”
“I am…yours, Mistress,” Daken grunted.
“You…like it too!” she said, now leaning over him so that he had a better view of her bouncing breasts. “But you will…not…come. Not until…your Mistress comes!”
“I…I understand,” he said with labored breathes.
Sensing he didn’t quite grasp the extent of her authority, she slapped him across the face and rode him even harder.
“I can’t…hear you!” she shouted. “Say it, slave! Say I…come…first!”
“You come first, Mistress!” Daken immediately replied. “You…will come…first.”
He almost sounded meek, something she hadn’t heard from Daken so far. It was somewhat strange, but oddly satisfying. He was an arrogant, self-centered man by admission. The fact that she, the Black Queen, could humble him in such a pleasurable way only added to the experience.
Fueled by such feelings, Jean kept riding his cock in pursuit of an orgasm. She didn’t climax too quickly, if only to make her slave struggle to hold back. She could tell by the expression on his face that it was a real strain, fighting the urge to come before her. It meant denying himself the release he usually sought without hesitation. It must have been a major change to his usual approach, but one he seemed to enjoy.
‘He wants it too. He really is that determined. Either I’m just that good or he’s just that deviant.’
Whatever the case, Jean made the final push. While riding Daken’s cock hard, really working her pussy along his throbbing length, she leaned back somewhat and rubbed her clit with her free hand. That helped get her to the brink faster. She sensed Daken nearing that special limit where holding back an orgasm created real discomfort. She made sure it only went so far before she finally rewarded his obedience.
“Your Mistress…is ready to…come!” she told him.
Finally, after just a few more hard gyrations of her hips, the Black Queen plunged into that wondrous ocean of ecstasy. She arched her lower back, dug her knees and toes into the bed, and let out a moan of euphoria that echoed throughout the chamber.
It was so raw and intense, the hot waves of sensations coursing up through her body. The folds of her pussy throbbed mercilessly around Daken’s cock, as if to draw pleasure from his flesh into her own. She made it a point to exercise the full range of her dominance, focusing entirely on maximizing her pleasure over that of her slave. He submitted. She took what she wanted. That made it that much more satisfying.
It was the culmination of utter dominance, one that turned punishment into pleasure and retribution into resolution. After what Jean had been through with Daken, it was kinky, but fitting. Upon soaking in every last trace of ecstasy, she finally turned her attention back to the submissive who had willingly denied himself for his Mistress’ pleasure.
“Mistress…are you satisfied?” asked Daken intently.
“Yes…to a point,” Jean replied, “but enough to warrant a reprieve for my slave.”
In an act that let Daken know she was a merciful Mistress, she rose up off his dick, her pussy still throbbing somewhat from the pleasure. She then repositioned her body so that she was kneeling at his side, his throbbing cock still erect and covered in her juices. She could tell from the way it kept throbbing that he badly needed his release. In an act of mercy, she granted him that.
With her gloved hand, the Black Queen grabbed his cock and firmly stroked it. She even added some extra pressure from her telekinesis, creating the necessary pressure to send her slave to the brink.
“Oohhh Mistress!” Daken moaned, his face contorting in anticipation.
“Go on, salve. Come!” Jean said, making it sound like a direct order.
Right on cue, whether by obedience or pent up desire, Daken climaxed. He let out a feral moan, not unlike that of his father whenever he achieved orgasm. It was so similar that Jean would’ve found it humorous if it hadn’t resulted in such a spectacle.
She felt his cock throb in her hand as he shot out a thick stream of cum right up into the air. Jean held on tightly so that most of the fluid landed on his chest and torso, mixing with the hardened. It was a pretty impressive load, even for someone with a healing factor. She watched him writhe under the weight of feeling, the earlier discomfort quickly giving way to overwhelming pleasure.
In the world of S&M, going from one extreme to another made for the best possible experience. When Daken finally settled, his body relaxing in a daze of satisfaction, he looked more content than any slave could hope to in the face of such domination. Seeking to belabor that domination, Jean gathered some of the cum up with her gloved hand and licked it up while he watched on.
“Mmm…a good slave tastes extra sweet,” the Black Queen said, licking her lips seductively.
“I’m proud…to be your slave, my Mistress,” Daken said in his daze. “Your pleasure…is mine.”
“As it should be,” she said, as though it were the most logical thing in the world. “Any mistress can draw pleasure from a slave. To make a slave want to pleasure their Mistress…that is a true measure of dominance.”
Having licked up the cum, Jean crawled over to the still-bound Daken. He looked so comfortable in his restraints, showing no desire to escape. He seemed to enjoy it too much. Since no self-respecting dominatrix could let a submissive get that content, she prepared to pursue more desires. As much as she’d enjoyed her dominance-fueled orgasm, the Black Queen still caved more.
“Tell me, my slave,” she said with a mix of section and authority. “Do you still wish to satisfy your Mistress?”
“Yes!” Daken said without hesitation. “I desire nothing else.”
“Are you sure?” she said, now clenching his face firmly. “Tell me you want to satisfy me!”
“Mistress, I want to satisfy you!” he said, practically yelling into her ear. “I want you to ravage me until you are completely, utterly satisfied!”
She maintained her firm grip on his face for a moment, pretending to ponder whether he’d convinced her of his dedication. She could’ve slapped him again and demanded his scream at the top of his lungs how much he wanted to please her. However, she opted to be a merciful Mistress.
“Very well,” the Black Queen said to him. “If you’re as good a slave as you claim, then you must continue to prove it.”
Following a fresh surge of burning lust and dominating desire, Jean got up and stood over Daken again with her towering form. She then positioned herself so that she straddled his face, her still-dripping pussy right in his face. Once in position, she reached back and grabbed his carefully-styled hair so she could shove his face into her heat.
“Here! Eat my pussy out!” the Black Queen said with dominating authority.
“Mmf!” was all Daken got out before his face was completely muffled.
Like a good slave, he didn’t hesitate for a second. He immediately began gorging on her womanly flesh, plunging his tongue into her folds and tasting her heat. He wasn’t gentle or caring like Scott. He wasn’t reckless or messy like her other lovers, either. Daken treated giving her oral sex like a mission, one handed down from an ultimate authority. That meant pursuing it to the utmost with complete focus.
The results didn’t just get Jean’s pussy extra moist. It genuinely surprised her, how thorough and focused he ways. She swore Daken’s tongue was longer than average, really getting in deep and stimulating those extra-sensitive parts of her pussy. It was enough to make her gasp sharply as a fresh round of sensations shot up through her body.
“Yes!” Jean moaned.
As she voiced her delight, she found herself riding his face, getting Daken to use that tongue all over her pussy. He left no part of her flesh unstimulated, from her outer folds to her clit to her deepest depths. Everything he did emphasized her pleasure. It was so effective that she felt another orgasm coming on. While not as intense as the first, in terms of build-up, it was every bit as enjoyable.
“Ohhh yes!” the Black Queen cried out. “That’s a very…good…slave!”
She didn’t let Daken know he made her climax so fast, but it was difficult to hide. She arched her back again, let out a deep moan, and even pulled his hair as she came. The way the inner folds of her pussy throbbed, coupled with the release of more juices, made it obvious just how good a job he’d done. Either he was just that dedicated or just that good. Given his proclivities, it was probably a combination of the two.
“Mmm…Mistress,” Daken managed to get out, his voice still muffled.
“Silence, slave!” Jean said, despite her euphoric overtone. “Your dedication and skills…are noted.”
Having a second orgasm so soon after the first added encouragement, not that Jean needed it. However, if Daken insisted on overachieving as her slave, then she might as well push him.
Still short of breath, her pussy throbbing from the pleasure, she rose up off Daken and prepared her next move. Before he could say anything to further ingratiate himself, she grabbed the panties she’d discarded earlier and shoved them into his mouth. To further ensure he’d be silent, she also retrieve a ball-gag that had been on the nearby table and shoved it into his mouth as well.
“Mmf!” Daken said, his voice muffled once more.
“No more talking,” she said sternly. “You’ll remain silent and keep tasting my pussy as I have my way with you.”
She made it sound like a punishment, but Jean could already see Daken grinning through the gag. It was an indirect way of rewarding him for being such a good slave. With her, punishment and pleasure need not be separate.
“I’m going to keep fucking you, dominating you, and everything in between,” she proclaimed. “You’re going to lay here – bound, gagged, and submissive – until I’m finished.”
Jean didn’t bother asking if he understood or was ready. Him being her slave and her being the dominant, his understanding was redundant. Her only focus now was his dick and how she much she could push his healing factor.
With her goal being the maximization of her pleasure and his submission, Jean retrieved one more item from the nearby dresser. It was a specialized cock-ring, complete with a vibrating stud for clitoral stimulation. Daken’s cock was still semi-hard after his release, but his healing factor had already kicked in. Jean still made it a point to get him fully erect again, using her tits to tit-fuck him briefly to get him ready.
“You’ve got a good healing factor,” she said as she worked his cock between her fleshy mounds. “Let’s see how good your stamina is!”
Her lurid tone let Daken know that she intended to push him. Even with the gag in his mouth, he didn’t look the least bit concerned. She still sensed him eager to please his mistress. His own comfort was secondary, at best.
After slithering his cock between her tits for a few minutes, he was fully erect again. Jean then put on the cock ring, which was extra snug to ensure that he stayed hard, regardless how much she pushed him. Usually, she had to be careful with cock rings because if they were too tight for too long, it could be painful and downright damaging. Emma and Mary Jane had shared multiple stories about elaborate S&M acts going horribly wrong. Jean wanted to avoid that, but Daken’s healing factor gave her plenty of flexibility.
Once the cock ring was secured, his dick now throbbing hard with bulging veins, she turned on the vibrating stud to its highest setting. Then, she straddled his waist again, propping herself up on her knees so that his cock aligned perfectly with her pussy. Upon feeling the tip brush against her outer folds, she plunged her hips downward and began riding him again.
“Ohhh yes!” exclaimed the Black Queen, seething with intent and lust. “Take it, slave! Take it all! All your Mistress’ lust!”
“Mmmfffff!” moaned Daken through the gag, his voice still echoing with pain and pleasure.
While he walked that fine line between sensations, Jean focused solely on pursuing more pleasure. There were no theatrics, spectacles, or tactics. It was just her, a dominant using her slave’s submissive state, to pursue ultimate satisfaction with complete freedom. It was okay for her to be selfish, reckless, and uninhibited. Such were the perks of a skilled dominant.
The Black Queen fucked the bound Daken with focused fervor, gyrating her hips as her pussy slithered along the length of his dick. Raw, chaotic sensations of bliss followed. The added stimulation of the vibrating stud on her clit helped supplement those sensations. She added to those too by hungrily fondling her breasts, pinching her nipples in just the right way.
The bed rocked and so did Daken. His gaze never diverted from her. His focus on her never waned. She made sure he saw the fruits of his submission, taking the form of a Mistress achieving the pleasure she sought.
“Ooh you’re doing it, slave!” she cried out. “You’re going to…make your Mistress…come!”
Jean was even louder than the first time, letting out the kind of primal moans most only heard from Logan. That seemed to have an impact on Daken, his gaze on her taking a new level of reverence. As she climaxed again, she gave her nipples an extra hard pinch and she leaned back and the kind of moan that every submissive hoped to hear from their dominant.
It evoked a special kind of pleasure, one that went beyond the throbbing of her pussy and the hot sensations coursing through her body. The Black Queen shuddered under the weight of both the pleasure and the power, a truly intoxicating combination if ever there was one. It took a skilled dominant and a truly willing submissive to experience such a feeling. Daken’s ability and willingness to submit to her was both impressive and satisfying.
‘He knows how to dominate. He knows how to submit. Daken embraces so many extremes, sexually and otherwise. He is a kinky, yet dedicated man. The good he could do if he channeled those kinks…’
There were a great many possibilities for Daken, beyond his submission. There would be plenty of time to contemplate that, but only after she was done with him. She still had plenty of desire to vent and Daken was still at her mercy.
No longer concerning herself with her submissive’s concerns, the Black Queen went to work venting the full range of her lusts. That involved riding Daken’s cock for multiple rounds of focused lust, each culminating in another orgasm. It was all about quantity over quality, treating her submissive like her personal sex toy. It couldn’t have been comfortable for much of the process, but Daken didn’t seem to mind. Even when he tensed in discomfort, his expression always reflected the bliss of a willing slave.
Jean tested that loyalty to the utmost, pushing both his cock and his healing factor. After soaking in another orgasm, she turned around and rode him again in a reverse cowgirl position, making sure he could see her ass bouncing up and down as his cock pumped into her pussy. That didn’t just lead to another orgasm for her. It got him to climax as well, albeit one that further blurred the pain/pleasure line due to the cock ring. As far as she was concerned, though, his orgasms were bonus. Her pleasure still took priority.
Again and again, she rode his cock to peaks of of ecstasy. Sometimes she went hard and fast. Sometimes she slowed down to really add some extra force to her movements. At one point, she even used some targeted telekinesis to make her pussy extra tight around Daken’s cock. It was a little trick she and Scott had figured out shortly after they joined the Hellfire Club. It often drove her husband wild during extra-passionate nights. It surprised Daken, but in the best possible way. He climaxed again on the spot.
“More! Give your Mistress…more!” Jean commanded. “My domination will continue…until I am satisfied!”
“Mmf!” Daken gasped, his muffled moans laced with submissive bliss.
She rode him for several more rounds. The Black Queen quickly lost count of how many times or how many orgasms she experienced. She was fairly certain, though, that she couldn’t have been so hard or so reckless for a man who didn’t have a healing factor. While she wasn’t sure just how hard she’d pushed him, the fact she sensed him climax multiple times hinted that she could’ve gone harder.
Eventually, her own stamina caught up with her. By the time she made the final push, a visible layer of sweat had formed on her skin. Various muscles began to strain, including a few not usually exercised within the Danger Room. She also felt the strain in Daken’s cock, which was throbbing so hard that she could feel the bulging veins in her pussy as she rode it. She saw more strain in his expression the longer it went on, but still didn’t let up. One more orgasm was within reach and she was determined to get it.
“One more!” Jean gasped through the final round of exertion. “One more…and your submission…will be complete!”
A renewed eagerness consumed Daken. He let out more muffled moans, eagerly conveying how much he wanted to see his Mistress satisfied. As Jean rode his cock to one final peak, she leaned over and held him by the throat, partially choking him in one last show of dominance before she hit her peak. When it finally arrived, she dug her nails into his neck and arched her body in one last ascension to ecstasy.
“OHHH YES!” she exclaimed.
It wasn’t just a cry of euphoria from another blissful orgasm. It was a cry of victory, marking the completion of her domination over Daken. Her desires had been met, her lust fully sated. It was one of those rare, yet uniquely satisfying feelings that could only come in an S&M dungeon.
After savoring every last moment of ecstasy, the domineering persona of the Black Queen gave way to Jean Grey-Summers once more. Short of breath, but very content, she cast Daken an approving grin as she rose up off his cock. She then used her telekinesis to remove the ball gag and her panties from his mouth. After adjusting his jaw and gasping heavily, he looked up at her with continued reference.
“Are you pleased, Mistress?” Daken asked, dazed by the pain and pleasure.
“I am,” Jean said definitively. “You have served your Mistress well. For that, I release you.”
As the various sexual fluids spilled out of her, she undid the cock ring, finally giving it some much-needed rest. It was bright red and soaked with her juices, the veins still throbbing even as it settled. Daken let out a sigh of relief, finally emerging from his submissive daze. He even looked content, more so than he did before they arrived. For someone so unapologetically deviant, it was quite a feat.
Jean, still winded from so much sexual exertion, untied the sheets securing his feet. When she went to undo the shackles, though, Daken just grinned smugly and laughed.
“That’s okay. I’ve got this,” he told her.
Then, with an oddly casual demeanor, Daken drew his claws and used them to undo the shackles on his wrists. Jean, despite being exhausted, laughed somewhat as well. Now leaning back on her arms as she sat near the foot of the bed, she shook her head in amusement.
“Wait…you could’ve freed yourself this whole time?” Jean asked.
“You sound surprised. Have you forgotten who my father is or how much he hates being trapped?” he joked.
“No, it’s just…I’d hoped my bondage skills were more advanced at this point.”
“I wouldn’t worry. Your skills are beyond dispute and trust me. I would know,” said Daken wryly.
She laughed again. Daken was definitely back to his arrogant self, complete with his colorful attitude towards deviance. He was still an enigma in terms of intentions, but Jean felt as though she’d gained a more intimate understanding of him than most.
“Although if you like, I could get you some adamantium shackles from Madripoor,” he added, now relaxing with his back against the headboard.
“That’s okay. I think I’ve got enough to work with,” she assured him.
“Indeed,” Daken said. “I admit, I didn’t think you had this side to you, Jean Grey-Summers.”
“What can I say? I’ve developed some pretty crazy kinks lately.”
“It’s not just that. In my experience, people either embrace their deviance too much or deny it too ardently. You, however, seem to have struck a perfect balance. You can be a hero, a friend, and a lover when you need to. You can just as easily be a hardcore, sex-crazed bitch.”
“Thanks…I think,” said Jean somewhat awkwardly.
“No thought necessary,” said Daken. “That might be the highest compliment I’ve ever given someone. I truly admire that in you, Jean. I only hope that I too can one day achieve such balance.”
Jean smiled again and even blushed a little. After the kinky things she’d just done, her blushing about anything was quite an accomplishment. It also seemed fitting. It even gave her hope that Daken might one day walk a similar path to that of his father.
He had talked about balance earlier. He’d also made obvious that his capacity for deviance was much greater than Logan’s. At the same time, though, Jean sensed in him the potential to be something more. She wasn’t sure how much she had helped him in forging a better path, but at least they’d enjoyed some kinky sex along the way.
“I hope you find it too,” Jean told him, “and if you ever need help from me, Logan, or the X-men, then you know where to find us.”
“It’ll likely be some time before I’m that balanced, but I thank you for getting me started,” said Daken, smiling back. “I still have a number of personal affairs to complete before I start making such connections. And before you offer to help, understand that I must handle these affairs on my own.”
“I understand completely,” said Jean.
“Also, I’m keeping your panties,” he told her, holding up the thong she’d stuffed in his mouth earlier. “That part is non-negotiable.”
“Like father like son, indeed.”
THE END
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The Red Queen Chronicles: The Lost Son