WARNING!!! The following story contains bondage, domination, and extremely adult sexual situations. If this isn't the kind of thing you're interested in, for heavens sake DON'T READ IT!!! You should be OVER 21 YEARS OF AGE to read this, as it is intended for adults only.
This story is written as satirical fiction for entertainment purposes only, and is not intended to gather monetary recompense in ANY WAY, SHAPE, or FORM...it is freely offered for interested readers only.
The original creations of Jean Grey, Scott Summer, Mesmero, and the X-men are copyrighted by Marvel Comics.
**Jean Grey: A Mesmerizing Evening
Chapter 1**
Jean Grey stood in front of her full-length mirror, a soft pink flush spreading across her cheeks as she surveyed her reflection. It was astonishing that, despite staring down actual supervillains during her short time as an X-men, she had more butterflies in her stomach now than at any previous point in her life.
Jean had spent the better part of the evening preparing for her date with Scott Summers, her team leader and boyfriend of two years. She had chosen a little black dress that hugged her generous curves in all the right places, leaving little to the imagination, and now she was fidgeting, paired with sheer charcoal pantyhose that flattered her lean calves and thighs. Is this too much? she had wondered. But no: she shouldn't feel self-conscious about being sexy for the man that she loved, especially tonight. But the nerves were still there: Each step she took felt like a moment closer to the night she had been anticipating for months, maybe even years.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she quickly brushed her long, red hair, leaving it to cascade down her back in soft waves. She had always been a bit shy, especially when it came to matters of the heart, but tonight was different. Tonight, she wanted Scott to see her as more than just the kind, compassionate girl he had come to adore. Tonight, she wanted him to see her as the woman who craved his touch, his passion, his everything.
After fussing a moment with straightening the reinforced toe of her nylons, she stepped into her heels. She hoped that this ensemble would be his favorite, that it would ignite the desire within him that she had been feeling for so long. As she caught her reflection in the mirror, she couldn't help but smile, her nerves replaced with a newfound determination. She was ready for this, ready for him. She wanted him to take her virginity, to be her first, her only.
The thought of it sent a shiver down her spine, and she knew that there was no possible way Scott had missed her hints that tonight was the night to make his move. After their most recent adventure as X-men, she so badly needed this night to go right. As she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the memory of the villain Mesmero's hands on her body, groping and touching her over her costume, sent a shiver of revulsion down her spine. She had clung to Scott when he'd saved her, breathing heavily, could feel his thick arms around her through their spandex costumes.
Though the image of that villain's leering face was forever burned into her mind, she refused to let it impede her womanly urges. But moreover, she knew as an attractive young superheroine, Mesmero would not be the only one to kidnap her, to try to subject her to his domination. She didn't want some supervillain to take what was rightfully Scott's. She wanted Scott to be her first, to claim her, to make her his.
She looked at the clock and smiled boldy. It was time!
Stepping out of her apartment, she locked the door behind her, her heels clicking against the hallway floor. Scott was waiting for her in the lobby, dressed in a suit that accentuated his broad shoulders.
He looked up as she approached, his ruby-quartz glasses reflecting the dim lights of the hallway. A slow smile spread across his face as he took her in, his gaze lingering on her legs encased in sheer black pantyhose.
"Jean," he said, his voice a low growl. "You look...wow."
She felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "You don't look so bad yourself, Scott."
He chuckled, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"
They stepped out into the cool New York night, the city lights twinkling around them. Scott kept stealing looks at her legs. Even though he'd seen her in superhero tights a thousand times, Jean knew from their days at non-X university functions and the like that he liked her to look "feminine." As his gaze kept sweeping over her, she felt it like a physical touch, and it made her heart race with anticipation. Tonight's the night he's going to take me, Jean thought with a slight warmth in her pink panties. I know it! He was so bold, so handsome, that her fantasies about what he might do to her had been...well, they had made her blush, to say the least.
They walked to a small, intimate Italian restaurant, hand in hand. The night air was cool, and Jean shivered slightly, snuggling closer to Scott. He put his arm around her, pulling her in tighter.
"Cold?" he asked, his breath hot on her ear.
"A little," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
"I can warm you up later," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.
Jean felt her whole body flush at the promise.
A slight dampness between her legs caught her off guard, and she tried to hide her surprise by flirting back. "I'd been hoping," she said with a soft smile, her voice barely above a whisper. His flirting had never made her wet before, but tonight, the heat pooling in her core was more intense than ever; she was a little taken aback, but with Scott, she felt safe. His presence was comforting, and the sensation was new, exciting, and a little scary. She could feel her heart racing, and she wondered if he could sense it through their telepathic bond. He seemed to be waiting for her to say more, so she added, "Are we really going to Martini's?"
Scott chuckled, his hand tightening on hers as they walked towards the restaurant's entrance, ivy and torchlight cascading over the scene. "Only the best for my girl," he said, his voice confident.
He led her to a small, intimate table by the window. As they sat down, Jean noticed Scott wasn't speaking much, his eyes darkening behind his glasses. She felt a new anxiety brewing under his quiet gaze, and a sudden worry gripped her. So it wouldn't spoil the night, she decided to address the elephant in the room.
"Scott, can I talk to you about something?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She saw the concern in his brow, and she knew he could sense the nervousness in her voice. She took a deep breath, her eyes locked on his. "When Mesmero—when he had me, I didn't want it, Scott. I didn't want him to touch me. I only want you. You're the only one I think about, the only one I want."
Scott's expression softened, and he reached across the table, taking her hand in his.
"Jean, I'm so sorry you had to go through that. What exactly did he do to you?" He squeezed her hand, his concern genuine, but Jean couldn't miss the subtle shift in his gaze, the way his eyes lingered on her breasts, just a moment too long. What does he know?
Jean looked down, her nervousness returning. She knew Scott cared about her, but Mesmero's touch had left her feeling violated, dirty. She didn't want to taint their night with the specifics. "It's not important, Scott," she said softly, trying to bring his focus back to her face. "All that matters is that you rescued me. You were there for me, like you always are."
Scott's grip on her hand tightened, and she could feel his frustration radiating through their bond. "Jean, it is important. I want to know. In order for tonight to...go well, I need to hear all of what happened between you and another man. Even if it wasn't entirely consensual."
Jean took a deep breath, her eyes flicking to the side, her cheeks growing pink. "He... he touched me, Scott. He touched my breasts, squeezed them, like he had the right to." She closed her eyes briefly, recalling the feeling of his hands on her, and she felt a slight wetness between her legs, a reaction that caught her off guard. She crossed her legs under the table, hoping force back the unexpected sensation. It's just because of what's going to happen with Scott tonight, she told herself. Your body is just confused, Jean. Get a grip! His hand-holding tightened, and she could feel his eyes on her, his gaze intense.
"Jean, look at me," he said, his voice stern. She met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. "Did he... did he hurt you?"
Jean shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "No, not really. But it was... it was wrong." She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the napkin in her lap. "I didn't want him to touch me. I only want you, Scott. I want you to be the one to...to touch me."
Scott's grip on her hand softened, and he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently. "Jean," he said, his voice low and husky. "This will be a special night for us. But...let's both be all in, okay?" Scott's eyes were still intense, but there was a tenderness in them that Jean hadn't seen before. "I want this to be perfect for you. No second thoughts. No hesitation. Are you ready for that?"
Jean nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. It was exactly what she wanted him to say, and she felt the wetness come back, welcome this time. "More than you'll ever know," she whispered.
Their meal arrived, but neither of them could focus on the food. They exchanged small talk, but their minds were elsewhere. Jean could feel Scott's desire for her, like a physical presence in the room. It was intoxicating, and she found herself squirming in her seat, her body aching for him.
Jean knew she had to make sure Scott knew that she wanted him, that he stayed interested. Working up the nerve, she slipped off a shoe, her soaring confidence overriding her initial shyness. She began teasing him, trailing her foot—encased in sheer black pantyhose—across his thigh, just beneath the tablecloth. She could feel the heat radiating off him, his body reacting to her touch.
Scott's breath hitched, his eyes widening behind his glasses. He looked down at her foot. He seemed startled.
Jean's heart pounded in her chest, her body on fire with a mix of excitement and fear. She didn't want to stop. She wanted to push him, to drive him wild. She slipped her foot higher, her toes brushing against the bulge in his pants. He inhaled sharply, his grip on his fork tightening.
"Jean..." he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "What are you doing?"
She smiled shyly. "Do-do you like it? Remember my costume? The green mini? I had to wear stockings with it...it was short. You stared and stared, Scott."
Jean continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "You always looked at me like you wanted to..." her voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. She took a deep breath, her confidence wavering but her determination unyielding. "Like you wanted to tear it all of me, Scott: the costume, the mask, the stockings. I...I saw it in your eyes."
Scott's breath hitched. He didn't deny it. He didn't have to. Jean could feel his desire through their bond, a searing heat that left her breathless.
"I liked the way you looked at me, Scott. I want you...I want you to look at me like that tonight." Jean's voice was barely a whisper, but the mere suggestion had her nipples hardening beneath her dress, begging for her lover's touch.
Scott reached down and grabbed her ankle under the table, stopping her footjob, but not releasing her. Then with the other hand, he set money on the table, enough to cover the bill at least twice over.
He then fixed Jean with a look. "I'm going to release you, and you're going to put your shoe back on and behave, Jean." Scott's voice was a low growl, his grip on her ankle firm. She slipped her shoe back on, her body aching with need. Did I go too far? She wanted him so badly that she could barely think straight. Did I spoil things?
As they exited the restaurant, Scott took her hand, his grip possessive. She could feel the heat radiating off him, his desire palpable. They walked in silence, the city lights blurring around them.
Jean was terrified that she had messed up their night. She wanted nothing more than to pull Scott inside her, to undress for him, but now he seemed so cold, so commanding. They walked in silence until they reached her apartment door. Scott's breaths were heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Jean could feel the drive and desire radiating from him, a mix of emotions that both scared and excited her. She fumbled with her keys, finally managing to unlock the door.
As they stepped inside, Scott slammed the door shut behind them. He turned to Jean, his eyes blazing with an intensity she had never seen before. "You think you can just touch me like that and expect me to control myself?" His grip on her hand tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh.
Jean gasped at the sudden pain, but it was quickly replaced by a surge of heat, pooling between her legs. Scott's anger was turning her on, her body responding to his dominance in a way she had never experienced before.
"Scott, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "L...let me make it up to you."