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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
The room reminded Jean of a meat locker. The floor, through spic and span and polished to a sheen, was sturdy tile with shower drains at regular intervals. Designed to be hosed down. It gave the room an air of degradation that Jean wasn’t sure if she liked.
The architecture was marble, with the right wall dedicated to a line of vanities that would be the envy of any Vegas showroom or chic make-up parlor. Domino was seated at one of them, wiping off her face with moist towelettes. Her panda-bear black eye seemed to be shot through with the same white as the rest of her body. Seeing Jean, she gave a little wave.
Jean waved back, though her attention was focused on the left wall of the room.
The top half was frosted glass looking into another room. Male silhouettes were gathering, waiting, talking in murmurs through the soft music that played. The darkest of them were up front, seven shadows facing front but unable to see through the glass. The bottom half of the wall was regular plaster, with a row of circular holes cut about three and a half feet up, each about the size of a woman’s fist.
Seven of the holes had men’s penises dangling through them. Before those holes, kneeling on silk cushions, were Colleen Wing, Misty Knight, that new Tarantula Maria Vasquez, Jessica Drew, and a few celebrities Jean couldn’t place, but who looked familiar from magazine covers and the occasional commercial. If she hadn’t been dead, she would’ve known them. And they were sucking on those cocks like they were trying to drag their owners into the room.
“Mistress calls this the Glory Room,” Rogue drawled, going to the little salon where Domino was fixing her make-up. Jean trailed numbly after her. “There’s one for the boys at the other end of the Club; good for yer viewing pleasure if you ain’t in the mood to take a load.”
“Those are glory holes,” Jean said, allowing herself to be sat down in a stool by Rogue. “Seven women are giving blowjobs and they’re—they’re goddamn heroes, some of them!”
“Yeah, but it’s Thursday. Thursday’s always a slow night.”
Domino got up, leaning into the mirror and smiling to check her teeth. After swiping her tongue over her gums, she turned to Rogue. “Ready?”
“In a few minutes. Ah’ve gotta hold Jeannie’s hand here.”
“Alright. Jean, lovely seeing you. You should’ve told me you had a membership here. We can come together next time.” Domino’s black-lidded eye winked at the innuendo, then she turned to leave.
“Ready for what?” Jean asked.
“Ah’m takin’ her shift.”
Just as Domino reached the door, it slung out of her way. Psychic trick. She and the new arrival brushed against each other as they passed in the doorway, sizing each other up with open lust. Then she was out and Madelyne Pryor was in.
“Goblin Queen!” Jean yelped, coming to her feet. She reached out with her psychic senses, preparing for battle, but the inundating lust she felt in every room, every foot of her surroundings sent a shock straight to her clit.
“Relax, Jeannie.” Madelyne smiled dangerously. “I’m not going to fight you over Scott Summers. Or anything else. You’ve already died. What more can I do to you?”
“Then—then—“ It was hard for Jean to think with Madelyne dressed like that. She was Jean’s exact double and she was naked. No, not even naked: barely censored by thigh-high black boots, a ragged black loincloth that hung between her creamy thighs to caress her pubis, and a cape that did not so much cover her breasts as draw attention to their lower halves as they jutted and quivered and occasionally slipped to offer the attentive viewer a glimpse of her erect nipples. Every step she took was a peepshow.
“What am I doing here?” Madelyne sat beside Jean at the make-up table. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here for my shift.”
On either side of Jean, Rogue was checking and triple-checking her inhibitor collar while Madelyne was burying her lips in gloss.
“But… you’re me,” Jean said disbelievingly.
“No, I’m me. You’re a stuffy preppie chick who was satisfied having everyone want to take her to sock-hop while she was in junior high. Me—I actually fuck people. And not just my dear, darling hubby. Strange men. Men whose names I don’t know, men whose faces I won’t remember. Women too. And the list doesn’t end there.” Madelyne popped her lips. They gleamed with wetness. “Watch me, Jean. Look what I do with your body.”
Madelyne got up and sauntered off, Jean watching her altogether exposed buttocks rise and fall with each peepshow step. It was all so casual. And that just made it more exciting.
Brazenly, Madelyne sat down at an empty hole. She pressed a button on a little console over the hole, and a few seconds later, a long penis had come through. It wasn’t hard, but Jean had given enough blowjobs of her own to know that it wouldn’t take long once a pair of lips had touched it. It’d been years since Jean had seen a prick other than her husband’s, and though this one didn’t quite measure up, it was fat enough to make her shiver just a little.
“You don’t even know…” Jean began. She had never seen so many cocks in her life. “You don’t even know who you’re sucking off.”
“That’s the beauty of it, sugah,” Rogue replied.
“It could be your worst enemy!”
Rogue put her hand on Jean’s knee. “That makes it so much better! Just keep watchin’, hon. Ah love seeing a girl’s first suck of the night. Always gets me hotter’n a sauna in hell!”
Jean didn’t want to get hot. She didn’t want to look away either. The unknown man’s cock was getting hard just from the situation, the anticipation of a stranger’s warm lips wrapped around his member. Madelyne’s fingers, her fingers, took hold of the stiffening prick. She clung to it with both hands, brought her nose to its head like she was sniffing a rose. Precum dripped out from the head and her thumbs neatly wiped it away. She sucked on them first, letting her coy mouth pop off each in turn. Moaning at the whiff of taste she’d taken.
Jean tried to distract herself by talking to Rogue, but she couldn’t look away. “And you—you do this too?”
“Damn near every night!”
“But why?” Jean demanded, her voice almost shrill.
Madelyne’s lips brushed over the cockhead. They could hear a groan thundering through the muting glass.
“Cuz even if I put one of mah collars on, in the outside world, I still can’t get loose of the thought of what would happen if it ever came off. Ah spent so long with mah curse that I can’t shake it. I feel it in other people; worrying what I could do to a child or old folk that don’t know no better. But in here, everyone knows. Jus’ nobody cares. It’s like everyone puts a collar on. They all let go of the outside and we do what we need. Emma just gives us the tools.”
Jean didn’t say anything. She barely listened; the words hit her mind like water dripping from a sink. Her body was throbbing so much louder than the conversation. The sight of her own mouth, as appropriated by Madelyne Pryor, opening wide to take a swollen cock inside—her own lips with a different shade of gloss moving over the engorged shaft—it sunk inside her and played a deep bass beat that rattled right against her clit.
Her body was burning.
“Ah thought you’d like this,” Rogue said, and her voice was so unlike herself—so dark and sexual—that Jean had to glanced at her. Had to see her settled back against the make-up counter, her legs splayed and the knot on her tied-off shirt coming undone. “Mistress Emma said you would.”
Jean watched Madelyne’s tongue drift from the tip of the stranger’s cock to the wiry pubic hairs he was trying desperately to push through the opening. She wondered if her own tongue was that long. Silly question. Of course it was. She was just like Madelyne. Exactly alike. She had never actually watched a blowjob before, just given them on occasion. Now she knew what she’d looked like then.
Madelyne grew more active, as if the excitement Jean were feeling was somehow funneling back into her. She sucked furiously, head moving back and forth, each thrust of her mouth trying to make her target disappear. Jean knew it was impossible from the very beginning. As thick as it was, Madelyne couldn’t swallow more than a few inches of it. But the attempt made Jean’s focus narrow until all she could see was cock and mouth. She felt a tension at the corners of her mouth, knowing what it would look like if she herself tried to swallow a thick cock.
The man’s hand suddenly slammed against the glass, shaking it, and Jean moaned just as loud as he was. The women in the room couldn’t hear him, but they could hear her, just as she felt the unmistakable lightning of his brain accepting orgasm.
Madelyne felt it too. She’d just licked his shaft until her tongue tapered off the underside of his tip, but now she grabbed him to point his eruption at her mouth. The very act of touching him, though, finished him off. His cock painted her mouth with white before she could so much as open her lips.
Madelyne was a fast thinker. If she could not have him in her mouth, where she could swallow him up in his entirety, she’d have him on her skin, completing what he’d begun. His hand smeared on the glass, wiping away swathes of condensation, as he kept coming, each gentle spur of Madelyne’s hand rewarding her with another lashing of cum onto her chest. She carefully pointed him to keep from soiling her cape. Only the curve of her breasts and the valley of her cleavage were stung by his blasts.
“Come on me,” Madelyne said in Jean’s voice. “Come on my breasts—my belly—all the way down. Down, down…” Letting go of the deflated cock, she grabbed her breasts, squeezing them in autoerotic bliss before her hands dropped to rub his cream into her bare body. “Make me slippery with cum.”
She cupped her hands under his prick as he dribbled out a little more cum, but that was all he could give her. His cock retreated almost meekly. Madelyne lowered her hands, all the way under her loincloth, and moaned as she finished anointing herself in strangers’ seed. Then she stood to give the glass between her and the man a deep kiss.
“I need a drink,” she said, returning to the make-up table.
From a drawer Rogue produced a bottle of wine and some glasses. One was passed into Jean’s hand and filled. Jean gulped it gratefully. Her mouth was so dry…
Madelyne sat down with her own drink, the entire front of her body shimmering with the cum she’d massaged into her skin. Neither Rogue nor Jean could stop staring at it.
“Like some?” Madelyne asked, running a finger between her breasts, then bringing it to her mouth. She sucked obscenely on the digit.
Rogue stood, and for a horrible moment Jean thought she would lean down and bury her face in those cum-slick breasts. “Ah think I’ll get my own.”
That almost didn’t surprise Jean. What did was Rogue taking her hand and leading her to the space Madelyne had vacated. They both knelt down. Rogue passed Jean her half-empty glass. Jean had drunken the first one without thought and she devoured the second as well. The carbonation tickling her nose was the closest thing she had to a grip on reality.
Jean watched as another prick, limp but long, came through the hole. It belonged to a black man—Jean tried to imagine Bishop or Luke Cage sticking his manhood through a wall. Rogue almost posed next to it, looking at Jean and smiling. Jean couldn’t believe she and the prick were so close.
It all suddenly seemed like a practical joke—she was so sure of it—that the real Rogue would never do any of this and at some point the Rogue who’d been fingered in the middle of a crowded room had pulled a switch with the Rogue Jean had spoken with. It was all an illusion. Everything was an illusion. Maybe she was still dead. Maybe she had never died. Maybe she couldn’t die.
She held an empty wineglass in her hand. She wondered how much harder she would have to grip it for it to break.
Rogue took the cock by the tip, one dainty finger pressed under the collar. She lifted it up, delicately, and leaned in to kiss it sweetly about halfway down the shaft. There was something so Rogue in how she kissed it, unashamed and yet hesitant—as brassy and cocksure as Rogue could be, there was a core of shyness in her that could not be melted, and she let it have its moment and she let it pass. Then she gave the cock another tiny kiss and it started to grow.
Jean sat heavily down, cross-legged on the bare floor. She felt the cold tile on the naked skin of her legs. She didn’t want to sit down on the cushioned carpet running the length of the wall. It would’ve made her feel too complicit. Even now, her hands were stiff by her sides, fingers clenching and unclenching as she watched Rogue tend to a stranger’s cock. Sitting down had driven her dress up her legs. She could see her own thighs now. Watch them clenching just like her fists.
Rogue began to pet the cock, stroke it not like a porn star, but like it was a small, cute animal. Jean’s mouth fell open and she thought about the steady pump of her hands and thighs together, just watching that pulsating cock be readied. The blunted black head poked out of its brown sheath and Rogue rubbed it against her cleavage.
She pulled the knot on her shirt, letting the two halves fall to her sides and smothering the growing, thickening thing in-between her breasts like she wanted to kill it before it could grow any further. Jean felt the lips of her pussy dig into the crotch of her panties. She crossed her legs tighter and the band bit into her, into her clit.
“Ah have no idea who this is,” Rogue said, the erection sticking out of her cleavage to let them see the slack skin pulling taut, thick blood vessels appear along the powerful flesh. “It could be anyone. Anyone at all. But I’m gonna suck him off, just like I’ll suck the next man and the man after that. I’ll blow ‘em all and ah’ll swallow all their cum. I do it for hours, some nights. I don’t stop until I feel it sloshing around in mah belly when I walk. All of that is mine, sugah. When I leave here, it’s still mine. It’s still me that got all those horny devils off.”
Jean subtly rocked back and forth, pretending to listen to Rogue, but her words could no longer penetrate the fog of lust that had formed in Jean’s mind. It was more like mood music. No, all Jean could concentrate on was how her clit rubbed against her panties as she moved, and how that excitement spread through her body, colonizing the rest of her.
Making her prudish face into a flushed, panting thing. Making her demure breasts into heaving creatures with sweaty contours and tightly hardened nipples. She had to clench her fingers to keep from shaking her way into a seizure, and she squeezed so tight that the wineglass popped right out of her hand.
She didn’t even notice it breaking.
The look on Rogue’s face was one of silent ecstasy—still unbelieving that she was here, doing this, being this woman. Both her and Jean marveled at her fingers wrapped around the fleshy shaft of the man’s prick. Rogue’s fingers almost white from all the time they’d spent inside gloves, making them seem even smaller against the thickness. She squeezed it and her fingers barely sunk into the blood-gorged flesh; was Rogue even trying or was he that hard?
It didn’t matter. He was heavy in Rogue’s hands, and either there was heat coming off of him or Jean was just sweating on her own. The thought struck her a storm striking a lightning rod. I wish that was me. Then again, in rapid succession—so many strikes that lightning and thunder were indistinguishable. Me, me, me, me…
The cock was jerking now, twitching in Rogue’s hands. Rogue gripped it behind the collar and pulled the foreskin back with gentle care. The head came into full view, popping from the already-thick shaft like the plume of a mushroom. The thing seemed to be straining its way through the glory hole, a monster, a prehistoric creature unleashed on modern times. Jean was almost afraid of it. Then she watched Rogue lean forward.
Closer.
Closer.
She didn’t touch it, but God, she was close. Her tongue flicked out of her mouth and stirred the swollen head. It almost jumped out of her hands. Jean had never seen anything like it. Her mouth was dry again. She wanted to go back to the bottle at the make-up counter, but she couldn’t move. The space between her thighs was explosive, and she hung on the precipice between letting her clit fully grind against her panties and tightened thighs, bringing herself off, or stopping this. Stopping this before she learned even more of what she enjoyed and what she was capable of.
Rogue smiled up at the man, his body looming nearly seven feet tall through the misty glass. She gave him a wink and then she charged forward with her whole face, taking the head and shaft right into her eager mouth, gagging before she stopped moving. When she was done, her lips were spread as tight over his cock as his foreskin had been. Then Rogue’s cheeks hollowed. She was sucking on it.
What Jean couldn’t believe was how shocked she was. She was a woman of the world. Even if she wasn’t a voyeur, didn’t peer into things that should be private, she knew what people did behind closed doors. She knew what those things looked like. She had done some of them, because she was drunk, because she was horny, because it was an anniversary or a birthday or she’d come back from the dead. Yet, the simple sight of a blowjob was one of the most perverse, most exciting things she’d ever seen.
Rogue knelt before her, the white half-moons of her ass gleaming under the thin denim of her hot pants, which rode up barely able to contain her voluptuousness. She was practically writhing, arching her back and thrusting her breasts out when she withdrew, then jutting her ass out when she sunk back onto the man’s cock with tightly compressed lips. She was sexy, she knew it, and she delighted in it.
Jean envied her. Not just for the taboo of manning a glory hole, but for the confidence with which she did it.
Rogue’s efforts were definitely not wasted on the man. Jean could almost hear his groaning through the glass; his hands were steepled on it. His hips pumped, bucking his cock inside Rogue’s mouth. Jean’s dry mouth fell open and she literally panted. There was nothing in her world but the slide of that granite flesh in and out of Rogue’s receptive throat.
Jean was not at all aware of the light on the door’s lock turning green, beeping, as a keycard on the other side was accepted. Nor of the door opening and closing. She took no notice of Emma Frost, even as the woman walked toward her with an almost masturbatory stride, pleasuring herself with Jean’s enrapturement and lust. She could’ve shot Jean in the head without the woman ever noticing, and years ago the thought might have been tempting. But it was nothing compared to the temptation Emma felt now.
She was living out the conscious experiences of the men on the other side of the glass—all of them. Not the ones occupying the mouths of Misty Knight, Jessica Drew, Megan Fox, no. The ones waiting their turns and the one with his cock comfortably lodged in Anna-Marie’s throat. It was intoxicating, feeling both the satisfaction and the envy, seeing it from so many angles including that of Rogue’s superlative fellatio.
With her own two eyes, she’d seen cocks sucked, sucked them herself, even hitched a ride in a man’s head while he was blown by her sweet sister Adrienne. But nothing compared to the secondhand taste of Jean’s experiences. All she dared was to bask in the surface thoughts, the psychic impressions Jean didn’t even know she was broadcasting, but it was more than enough for Emma. She could feel Jean actually comparing her own technique with Scott to what Rogue was doing. Delicious.
“He’s going to come,” Emma announced.
Jean realized her presence with a look that made Emma feel younger than three shots of Botox. She crouched down on the other side of Rogue, now wearing a white mini dress whose designer Jean couldn’t even guess at.
“And I don’t think Rogue will be able to swallow all of it. No, he’s been waiting for this all week. His body’s been readying itself, knowing that not one drop will go to waste. And when he blows, it won’t just go down Rogue’s throat. It’ll be all over her face, her tits—“
Emma took hold of the flannel vest formed by Rogue undoing her shirt. She helped her sweet little whore out of it before hanging it up.
“We mustn’t let Rogue become a messy girl. There’s a shower through the door. With a massaging showerhead, for those who get worked up. Rogue, you seemed worked up. Why not get started on that?”
As tight as Rogue was holding onto the man’s dick, her right hand was quick to drop away and fall right down into her cut-offs. A moment later, the fly started to unzip itself with the motion going on beneath it.
Jean couldn’t help but feel it, Rogue’s pleasure hitting her like the mist from a hose spraying a car. It may not have been aimed at them, but it got Jean and Emma wet all the same.
Rogue had started just in time. Through the glass, they saw the tall man’s head drift back, his shoulders drop, right before his hips jerked hard enough to uppercut Rogue. She moaned as she frigged herself. A shadow of arousal was now wet on her crotch. With a bone-deep thunder of sound from the man, he let Rogue have it. Jean and Emma’s eyes met as they shared Rogue’s whorish enjoyment—felt her downing cum like hot cocoa and riding her hand like a horse at full gallop. They knew her thoughts. They knew her.
She was thinking about what good cum her tongue was playing with. Virile cum. Warm cum. Delicious cum. She wanted more and neither of them could blame her.
The man could not have satisfied her anymore if his life depended on it. He shot a river of the stuff from his cock, more than enough to overflow and flood Rogue’s chin before he was done, dripping off her face and onto that eminently washable floor. Finally, even Rogue gave up on swallowing it. She pulled back and simply let him bathe her face, thinking of nothing but the warm smothering of her features and her hand inside herself.
Rogue’s own orgasm seemed almost trivial in comparison to the one that had given her a mask of white, but she was proud of having it, proud of sharing it even in some small way. She moaned gently, closed her eyes, and that was it. The satisfaction of it was far more intense than the pleasure, with Emma feeling a kind of pride for her. Even Jean felt happy for her friend, as Rogue licked her lips.
Rogue leaned her forehead against the wall, right beside that slowly yielding cock, and she kissed it once more. Lovingly. Gratefully.
Jean felt completely drained despite not having come at all. She didn’t even have the strength to resist when Emma leaned Rogue out of the way, laying her down on the floor, and crawling over her to come face to face with Jean. Close enough to kiss.
They regarded each other, Jean losing herself in the supreme confidence in Emma’s eyes. She was still staring into them when Emma reached over and pressed a button on the console. Rogue’s man withdrew, his empty cock almost sheepishly retreating back through the hole. A few moments later he was replaced. The new cock was long and hard and ready.
“Suck it,” Emma said, her lips brushing against Jean’s when they parted.
“Why?” Jean returned, her voice sounding confused to her own ears.
“Because you want to.” Emma’s forehead touched Jean’s, the two leaning into each other. Jean felt something run over her leg and when she looked down, she saw it was a small bottle of some clear liquid handled by Emma. “Use it. Get warmed up. I’ll get him started up.”
It had the flavor of a dare and Emma only moved when Jean moved. When Jean picked up the bottle, undid the cap, and poured out a dollop of the oily lotion into her hand, Emma held the cock between the forefingers of either hand and gave it a long, slow lick. Just as she would a lollipop.
Jean set down the bottle. She rubbed her hands together. The lotion was warm, slimy, smooth. Like a physical product of Emma’s tender licks along the shaft of this anonymous man’s cock. Jean brought her hands to her face. She pictured herself, like Macaulay Culkin, holding her hands to her cheeks as she screamed. No, she wasn’t that shocked. She was just rubbing the lotion in, into her cheeks, then along her jawline, down her throat. While Emma’s tongue lolled out of her mouth, again and again, to curl over a man’s dick and gently prim him.
Emma left the cock stingingly hard to go to Jean once more. She peeled the shoulder of Jean’s dress from her skin and pulled the rest of it down, lower, over her body until it ringed her waist. Jean’s bra opened in the front. Her bare breasts were as white as Emma’s, from a lack of tanning, not from design. In the pale flesh, her hard nipples seemed red. On fire.
As the cock seemed to strain for attention in the background, Emma picked up the bottle again and poured more out for Jean to catch. Jean obediently coated her body, smoothing the fine oil across her firm breasts. She almost enjoyed Emma’s hungry attention more than the lotion’s sensual feel, at least until she began to rub it into her nipples. She loved circling those… playing with them… making them gleam and glint as much as the rest of her. She covered her belly with the same warm sheen. Her hands delved lower…
“No,” Emma rasped, her voice as stinging as a ruler rapped across Jean’s knuckles. “We mustn’t get oil all over your lovely dress. And you’re neglecting our poor guest.”
Jean looked over at the wall. The head was turning purple, more aroused by Emma’s neglect than it had been by her ministrations. Like she was refilling Jean’s wineglass, Emma dumped more lotion into Jean’s hands. “Don’t think of it was a blowjob or a handjob. Just think of polishing it. You want it nice and wet, that’s all.”
Rogue was on her back, almost asleep, her only spark of consciousness devoted to running her fingers over her face, forcing dollops of cum into her gaping mouth. Madelyne Pryor was in the other room, shower running, mind broadcasting masturbatory pleasure. Colleen and Misty and all the rest were driving their heads against the wall, such was their frenzy for the anonymous cocks offered to them. And a man’s cock was right there, given to Jean without any thought, any conditions, any connection on either side. All that mattered was if she wanted it or not.
Jean put her open palms on either side of the cock. She closed them slowly. The cock was firm in her hands and hotter than she’d expected, but not strange. Not obscene. Not wrong. She ran her hands up and down. She made the cock gleam in the light. Seeing it, doing that simple task, Jean’s mind was as loud as a roaring stadium. But she wasn’t picking up thoughts. Wasn’t eavesdropping. She was thinking.
She leaned in and guided the cock over her slick flesh, from her cleavage to her breasts to the hollow of her throat. She let it slip over her nipples, circle her breasts, feel her like it was a lover all on its own. Then, though her hands slipped and slid over her oiled-up skin, she squeezed her breasts together with the cock in the middle. It was throbbing so hard it beat a tattoo against her heart, the blood in it as hot as that rushing through her veins. Above her, the man pounded on the frosted glass like he was trying to get in.
But Emma was growing restless waiting for the show to start. Her hand was on Jean’s back, as if in support, but her fingers were stroking the crease of Jean’s spine where she went down over the cock. It was not an intimate touch, but it made Jean’s clit pulse so hard she felt guilty.
Emma’s other hand reached past Jean. She gripped the cock at the base. She lifted it out of Jean’s cleavage. She aimed it at her mouth.
Jean looked at it, its size and its hardness, and for the first time wondered if she could do it. It had seemed like such a simple thing before, such a small thing; playing one last game with Emma. But now it was here in front of her and she didn’t know—
Yes, she did. Fuck it, she couldn’t even pretend that she had doubts about this. She wanted to drink a man’s cum and spit it in Emma’s face so she’d know she wouldn’t even get Jean’s table scraps from now on. Scott would be so satisfied he wouldn’t so much as remember Emma existed. It was a new start, a new Jean, and she would never again let Emma forget that she had been the Black Queen, and white only moved first in Chess.
She moved in as if to kiss the stranger’s cock, parting her lips at the last moment, sliding them narrowly over the tip and glans, constricting them at the collar, and sucking delicately as she lavished her tongue all over the cockhead.
Judging by the little thrust the stranger gave, he enjoyed it. Jean did too. She almost couldn’t believe it was real; how delicious his cock tasted, how good it felt in her mouth. It was like a more intimate version of a French kiss. Instead of a tongue in her mouth, a cock. And getting bigger, swelling with the pleasure she was giving it. Hell, soon he would grow larger than even Scott! She worried that he would get too big to fit through the glory hole.
“Why do you think I had him oiled up?” Emma said, answering Jean’s unspoken question. It was shocking to her that she’d become uninhibited enough to broadcast her thoughts instead of shielding them, but what shocked her more was Emma’s closeness. She was snuggled around Jean, pressed against her back with her chin on Jean’s shoulder, smiling too wickedly not to be up to something.
Jean looked down and saw Emma was kneeling on her bare legs, thighs spread, Rogue’s face beneath her. The Southerner had cleaned her entire face of cum, but some lingered in her hair, matching her trademark white stripe as she ate Emma’s pussy.
“I’ll have her do you next,” Emma said, grinding her pelvis down into Rogue as she stared unblinkingly at the hard cock.
“You’re a goddamn whore,” Jean muttered.
“Don’t worry, you can be one too.”
Jean ignored Emma, ignored Rogue, ignored all the other women doing what she was doing. She went to the man and she sucked him deep into her mouth, lips crawling over inch after inch of steel-hard shaft, tongue busily exploring the territory her mouth had captured, cheeks pulling in as she stopped to suck. She mouthed his cock with undisguised enjoyment, even if she couldn’t take it all.
Emma helped her there. The blonde tangled her hands in Jean’s hair and pushed her down on the man’s pick, and he rammed himself forward. Jean wasn’t surprised, not at a man being obedient to Emma Frost. In fact, all Jean could do was smile at the lewd ‘suggestion’. That is, she would smile if she weren’t gagging on cock with another four inches left to go.
Jean’s head bobbed, forced up and down by Emma’s hands like a basketball. Over and over again, the man’s cock was slammed into her mouth. She still couldn’t suck it, but that was the point. Making her gag. Making her take it. Until she had to come up for air. Emma let her, for all the good it did. The moment the cockhead had popped out of her mouth, Emma had replaced it with her tongue. Like a vampire, she sucked what was left of Jean’s breath right out of her.
When she let up, Jean’s head was spinning. She was unable to resist as Emma clasped her head in both hands and, now with a bit of delicacy, urged her down. “Relax, Ms. Grey,” Emma said with gentle fervor. “You must relax if you’re to take it all. And you will take it all.”
Jean suddenly had an insistent thought, like a song stuck in her head. It was the knowledge of how to relax her throat muscles, how to draw even the largest cock down through her mouth and toward her stomach. The tricks of the trade, by Emma Frost. The very thoughts out of her head. It was an intimate gesture, and Jean took it as a peace offering.
She was still unbelieving of the hot, hard flesh filling her mouth, moving every instant from the roof of her mouth to the hollow of her cheeks to the bottom of her tongue. She could feel a vein throbbing in it; proof that she hadn’t just put something in her mouth, it was part of someone, it was alive. And then she heard a voice that wasn’t Emma’s, wasn’t Rogue, wasn’t Madelyne’s.
“Hey, who that new girl?” Misty asked. She and Colleen were taking a break, leaning on each other as they watched Jean work. “She’s doin’ good work, whoever she is.”
“Jean Grey. X-Men,” Colleen answered. Like Misty, she kept her voice down, but Jean could hear the thoughts that preceded the words.
“Get out of here.”
While they spoke, Emma put a hand on Jean’s knee. She kept one hand on the back of Jean’s neck, gently petting her there to urge her onward, almost like she was petting a cat, but it seemed more important that her fingers were gently squeezing Jean’s leg.
“Nope. That’s her. There’ve been like forty clones of her, so I recognize the face.”
Emma whispered in Jean’s ear, her hand tracing up Jean’s thigh. “Can you feel it at the back of your throat yet? A nice hard cock feels so incredible back there—you’re going to love it.”
Jean thought Emma’s hand felt very nice on her thigh.
“You think that’s the real deal?” Misty was asking
“Don’t know. Like you said, seems awfully good at sucking cock for the X-Men’s First Lady.”
“Bet the real Jean would spit. If she spits, we’ll know.”
Jean resolved to swallow.
“Does it make you hot,” Emma asked, increasing her pressure on Jean to suck up still more of that anonymous prick, “knowing just how much cock you’ve taken in that mouth?”
And, with her hand in Jean’s hair, Emma made her nod.
“Of course it does. You’re only human, after all.” She tapped at Jean’s forehead. “This may be the Phoenix, scourge of the cosmos, but down here...” She moved her hand up between Jean’s thighs. “Here, you’re all woman. And I know what women like…”
The pleasured moan that Jean let loose only to be muffled by the cock stuffed in her mouth did what her conscience couldn’t. It made her feel ashamed. She tried to close her legs, but Emma’s hand was already there, touching her panties. She couldn’t move. And her silk panties felt so much better with Emma’s fingers on the other side of them.
Jean wanted to tell Emma it was wrong, even think it and let Emma overhear. But she didn’t.
“I know it feels good,” Emma said, one finger stroking Jean’s scalp, one finger pushed inside her cunt. “I know you want to come…”
She pushed harder on the back of Jean’s head. The same irresistible pressure she was using to finger Jean’s hole.
Her eyes watered, her jaw would be sore come morning, but Jean took the unyielding force Emma put on the back of her head and she sucked down every inch of the man’s cock and when her lips were practically at his balls and his cockhead was in her gullet, Emma was all over her. Kissing her face, licking at the last half-inch of cock that was stretching her lips so wide, and working her fingers over the straining hardness of Jean’s nipples. It was in much as celebration as it was in lust.
Then Emma stopped with one last kiss on Jean’s bulging cheek. “Look. Look over there. Another pair of whores, just like us.”
Jean looked. She gasped. Misty had stood, Colleen was still on her knees. All Jean could see was her long mane of blonde hair shaking between Misty’s strong black thighs. Misty’s prosthetic hand was on the crown of Colleen’s head, being rough with her, mashing her face between Misty’s legs. A look of pleasure on Misty’s face as she dominated her.
Once, Jean had been Misty’s roommate. It amazed her to think that she was capable of such a thing. But then, she was too. Her mind leapt to wondering what Scott was capable of. What he’d done with Emma.
Now Jean barely even thought of the cock in her mouth beyond the perverse fact of its presence. What Emma was doing to her was far more remarkable. She was kissing Jean’s breasts—her lips were so hot—her fingers were stroking Jean’s cunt and they were soft, soft but being so hard with her. Her body was not her own. It was Emma’s, and Emma was doing such wonderful things with it.
Then Jean actually felt someone kiss her ass. She was so sensitive, she even felt the little draw on her powers before Rogue’s inhibitor corralled her power and sent Jean’s life force back into her.
“Rogue’s hungry for more cum,” Emma said, a wicked grin on her face as she pressed her pillowy breasts into Jean’s back and jammed her wet pussy into Jean’s ass. She didn’t get close enough for Rogue to lick her, the Southerner lying paralyzed with lust on the floor. “Let’s give it to her, Jean. Let’s cum together.”
Emma laughed at her pun as she pulled Jean up a ways, into a sultry rhythm of their hips rocking together, reaching around to play with Jean’s cunt as well as her own. Jean held onto the man’s prick with her mouth, giving up a few inches but not the whole thing, grabbing the vacated inches with both hands to keep them for herself. And with a diamond hand, Emma grabbed Rogue by the hair and hauled her between their crouching legs. Rogue looked up expectantly, wondrously.
Then it hit her. Jean was so used to her powers warning her, of getting pre-echoes of thoughts and intentions proceeding violence, argument, everything, that she was completely unprepared for her own flesh betraying her. She came. Her body was struck again and again by blasts of pure pleasure, and she could not control how it was thrown by them.
Somehow Emma’s fingers stayed inside her, rubbing tirelessly, mercilessly, like she was trying to start a fire. And she did: Jean came so hard it became liquid, clear sweet fluid shooting from her and onto Rogue below her. She was aware of Emma coming behind her, ejaculating, most of her juices landing on Rogue’s face but some hitting as high as Jean’s ass.
Below them, Rogue was awash in their mingled ejaculate, wet, sticky, degraded, but left gasping with a rush of vulgar exhilaration. Tears were running down Jean’s cheeks. She felt weak as a kitten. She’d never come like that before. She didn’t know if she ever wanted to again.
Roaring with the dregs of her climax, Emma grabbed Jean’s head with both hands and forced her down on the cock still in her mouth. She took it all. Her lips moved effortlessly from one end of his cock to the other. She felt his pounding cockhead hit the back of her choke, throttle her, but she still got her breath and she bobbed her head without one word from Emma. She even thought she could taste a woman on his deep-seated root—something of the flavor and tang the room had filled with.
Emma embraced her from behind, head falling to her back. “He needs to come so bad--he’s gonna blow your head off, Jean. Take it. Take it all, you whore!”
The man fucked into Jean’s mouth like he could hear them, going as deep as he could before his cock exploded. Hot spurts of cum that shot right down Jean’s throat. She swallowed as fast as she could, though his cum was so warm she thought it might burn her stomach. She gulped him down again and again, tasting his salty flavor afresh each time—swallowing and swallowing until he had nothing left to give her.
She’d given a stranger a blowjob. He’d come in her mouth. She’d swallowed it. Three times Jean would’ve called absolutely impossible at the start of the evening; now they seemed inevitable, fated. And she didn’t stop there. She sucked at his softening cock like she was pulling the hardness out of him, grinding a little with her teeth, lapping at little with her tongue, coaxing a few more drops of cum from him and savoring every last taste. Until he was drained, and no amount of teasing or cajoling would get anything more from his well-used balls.
At long last, she pulled away, letting the cock drip out of her mouth. Her mouth was sticky with the cum that had escaped even her fervent swallowing. Emma stared at her tongue, coming out to lick away the traces. “Dear, your lipstick is simply ruined.”
The cock started to pull back, but Emma grabbed it and held on, forcing the stranger to stay in place. She stood with it in her hand, Jean still on the floor, now faced with Emma’s wet cunt. She wondered if she was expected to lick it. She wondered if she could.
Emma pressed her thumb to a wide button on the console, held it there. A faraway thought told Jean that it was some kind of fingerprint scanner. She stood up slowly, her dress seeming to fall off her, it was in such disarray. Jean came face to face with a superior smile on Emma’s face.
“For a blowjob like that,” Emma said, “you should be thanked.”
The scanner finished its job and accepted Emma’s authority. Suddenly, their portion of the misted glass faded into translucency, revealing a slice of the neighboring room. Scott Summers stood there. He was as handsome as Jean remembered.
Emma kissed Jean then, for the first time on the mouth. Jean felt Emma’s tongue in her mouth, tracing through the residue of cum still lingering, her efforts awakening the taste for Jean, letting them both bask in its flavor.
It was a long time before Emma pulled away, reeling her tongue back into her own mouth with a spot of white on the tip. “Now we’ve shared him,” she said with a loving smile.
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Corruption Is Just Another Change of Perspective