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 3**
Jean stood before him in the dim light of her apartment, her legs slightly spread in her high heels and black nylons, her breasts heaving from Scott's earlier ministrations. She was breathless, desperate for him to take her, but he seemed momentarily content to simply look her body up and down.
He admired the curve of her waist, the way her hips flared out. Then his eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he reached out and traced a finger along the damp spot where her pantyhose met the crotch of her panties.
Jean whimpered, her hips rocking slightly as he touched her. He had done that to her, had made her flow in a way she never had before...at least, not since Mesmero. She bit her bottom lip hesitantly, the association uncomfortable.
Waves of memory slammed into her consciousness, and Jean was suddenly back in that dilapidated warehouse, trapped by Mesmero's power. She could feel his hands on her, commanding, forceful, and her virgin body didn't know how to interpret the signals. She remembered the shame, the way she had rushed to her bedroom after her rescue, desperately changing her panties, trying to scrub away the evidence of her body's traitorous response. She had forced herself to bury those feelings deep within her. But now, with Scott's touch, those memories came rushing back, and Jean felt a fresh wave of shame and embarrassment. She tried to wriggle free from his grip, her body tense and uncomfortable.
Scott must have sensed her sudden tension, but he was in the grip of his own passions, and did not relent. "Be still, Jean. You're mine, and I would never let anything happen to you." He pulled her half-naked form into his chest with one arm, and the other continued to caress her sodden mound, more intensely this time, trying to drive away her hesitation with passion.
"You feel amazing, Jean. Your body, it knows what it wants. Let it have it."
Scott's voice was low, hoarse with desire, and it sent shivers down Jean's spine. But her body didn't move away. Instead, she found her hips rocking against his hand, seeking more of his touch. Scott's fingers found her clitoris, rubbing it through the damp fabric of her pantyhose, sending waves of pleasure through her. She moaned, her body arching against him, her eyes fluttering closed.
"That's it, sweetheart," Scott murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Let go."
Scott whispered the command, his voice ragged, barely a whisper. Shifting his hand, he gripped Jean's hip firmly, steadying her as she slowly began to rock against his thigh, her body seeking the friction, the pleasure. The fire between her legs was growing, her desire pooling as she found her rhythm, her body moving instinctively, desperately. She was losing herself, her worries and fears melting away as she focused on the feeling, the sensation of Scott's leg against her most sensitive spot. His hard thigh was a perfect contrast to her soft, damp flesh, and she found herself grinding against it, her hips moving in a slow, sensual dance.
Scott watched Jean's body writhe against his leg, her eyes closed, her lips parted in a soft moan of pleasure.
Having found again a comfortable submission to his masculine presence, Jean continued to hump. Her virgin wetness leaked through her pantyhose, soaking his thigh. Jean's bedroom inexperience made her second-guess her actions, her movements slowing as she tried to hide her face in embarrassment. The wetness of her pantyhose against his thigh suddenly made her self-conscious, and she slowed, once more trying to kick off her heels, worrying they made her look like a slut.
But Scott was not having it. With a swift motion, he landed a small spank on her ass, the sound of it reverberating through the room. Jean gasped, startled.
"I told you 'no,'" he growled, his voice low and commanding. "Leave them on."
Jean tensed, startled by the harshness in his tone. The unexpected sting of his spank sent a jolt of heat straight to her core, confusing her. She gasped, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of the conflicting sensations coursing through her. The shock of his hand on her ass was quickly replaced by an intense, unexpected pleasure. "Scott, I..."
But she didn't finish. Scott's hands were on her forearms, and he began to shift her, his clasp firm but gentle.
Jean shivered, her body aching with a mix of fear and excitement. The unexpected spank had ignited something within her, a primal hunger that she had never experienced before. She was startled by her own response, her body tingling with a confused mix of arousal and shock. The sting of his hand on her ass had sent a jolt of pleasure through her, a sensation so intense that it left her breathless.
Taking control, Scott guided Jean, now tottering slightly in her heels, towards the bed. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her body on fire with anticipation. She could feel Scott's presence behind her, his breath hot on her neck, his hands firm and possessive on her hips. She couldn't help but feel a thrill of fear and excitement, her body responding to his touch in a way she had never experienced before.
Scott stood behind her, his hands on the straps of her lacy bra, slowly sliding them down her arms. Jean gasped as her breasts were freed, the cool air of the room teasing her already hard nipples. His hands immediately returned to her breasts, cupping them firmly, his thumbs brushing against her sensitive nipples. He knows. He knows what handling my tits like this does to me. My sweet Scott... Jean let herself return to the moment, self-consciousness fleeing once again.
He rolled her nipples between his fingers, pinching and tugging gently, just enough to make her moan with pleasure. Jean could feel the heat of his breath on her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he whispered words of encouragement, words of hunger. "You're doing so well, Jean. Just let go and I'll take care of you."
Jean knew her breasts were large, that they had always tempted men. When Mesmero had touched them, it had confused her body, wetting her and disgusting her at the same time. But Scott's touch was unreservedly welcome, scratching at her desire in a way that made her push her young bottom back against him. She panted, her breasts heaving with every breath, her nipples aching for his mouth.
"Scott, please," she whimpered, her voice a desperate plea. She felt his hands squeeze her bosom in response, a gentle but assured gesture. His hands were wonderful, but she wanted more.
"Please what, Jean?" he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Tell me what you want."
Jean hesitated, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
She was a good girl, always had been, and talking like this was so unfamiliar. But Scott seemed to be waiting for her to say more, his hands on her breasts, his touch making her thoughts scatter. "I...I want you to kiss them, Scott. Please. I want your mouth on me."
He squeezed her tits again teasingly. "Kiss what, Jean? Say the words."
Jean hesitated. The only time a man had taken her long, feminine nipples into his mouth was Mesmero. Against her will, Jean had panted at the sensation. Would Scott know that she was asking him to mimic the motions of her captor? Jean's mind flashed back to Mesmero, to the way he had tied her wrists behind her back with sisal rope, using it to bind her to the chair. She remembered the slow, deliberate way he had pulled down the spandex top of her costume, exposing her breasts, her helplessness as he did so. She could feel the cool air on her skin, the way her nipples had stiffened in response to the change in temperature. She remembered the shock of his mouth on her, the way he had lapped at her nipple like a cat, his tongue rough and insistent. She had struggled, of course, her body writhing as she tried to escape, but Mesmero had held her firmly, his grip like iron. Jean shivered, the memory making her skin crawl, her body tensing as she was brought back to the present by Scott's touch.
"My nipples, Scott, They're standing up for you..." she whispered shyly. "I want you to suck on them, Scott. Please."
Jean heard the words come out of her mouth, and she couldn't believe she had just said that. A shiver of anticipation and fear ran down her spine. Scott's fingers tightened on her nipples, and she let out a gasp.
Scott delivered another spank to her round bottom in response to her request, but then spun her around, still unsteady in her heels. Then he lowered her so she was seated on the edge of the bed, her large, melon-like breasts hanging tantalizingly before from her torso.
He knelt in front of her, his hands grasping her hips. His eyes were dark, intense, his jaw clenched in a way she had never seen before. It was almost predatory. "These are mine now," he growled, his voice low and possessive. He leaned in, his mouth capturing one of her nipples in a hot, wet kiss. Jean gasped at the sensation, her back arching as he sucked hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak. She could feel the wet heat of his mouth as he suckled, and she moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.
Scott seemed to take this as an invitation, his mouth working her nipple with a fervor that left her breathless. He sucked and nipped, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, his teeth grazing her flesh just enough to send jolts of pleasure through her. Jean's back arched, her body pressing against his mouth as she sought more of his touch. She could feel the flaming hot longing between her legs, her body aching with a need she had never experienced before.
Scott's hands roamed her body, his rough palms caressing her soft skin, his touch leaving trails of fire in their wake. Jean could feel her body responding to him, her hips moving instinctively, her legs parting slightly as he continued to lavish attention on her nipples.
"Yes," she gasped, her voice a soft, breathy moan. "More, Scott. Please, more."
Scott obliged, his mouth moving from one breast to the other, his tongue licking and sucking, his teeth nipping and biting.
"Oh! Oh, Mesmero," Jean shouted after one particularly intense nip.
She seized immediately.
She had not meant to say it. But with the memory of Mesmero's control still fresh in her mind, and Scott's rough play echoing it so closely, it had simply slipped out. She realized her mistake as soon as the words left her mouth, and she tried to backtrack. "I'm sorry, Scott—I didn't mean—"
But Scott didn't seem to care. In fact, he seemed emboldened by her words. He sucked harder on her nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, his teeth grazing her flesh. Jean gasped, her body arching against his mouth as she sought more of his touch.
Jean's hands gripped the bedsheets beneath her, her knuckles turning white as she struggled to maintain control over her passionate reactions. Why had she shouted his name? He was hypnotist...did he still have some sort of control over her? Jean struggled to remember her captivity...it was so hazy...what had Mesmero done to her, specifically?
Her mind reeled with images, too vivid to be denied—Mesmero's strong hands, rough against her skin, tracing patterns, leaving trails of fire. She could feel again the cold bindings of the rope biting into her wrists as he tied her to the chair, her struggles futile against his superhuman might. She remembered the way he had looked at her, his eyes dark and intense, predatory, just like Scott's. And then, his hands—oh god, his hands, rough and commanding, exploring her body, her breasts, her hips, her thighs. She could feel it all again, her body betraying her, responding to his touch despite her mind's protests. She remembered the way he had rubbed her nipples, not gentle at all, but rough and insistent, just like Scott.
She could feel the calluses on his fingers, the way he had pinched and twisted, sending jolts of pain and pleasure coursing through her. And then, his mouth...she remembered his mouth, hot and wet, sucking and biting, just like Scott was doing now. She clenched her eyes shut, her breath coming in quick gasps as she tried to push the memories away. But they were too strong, too vivid. She could feel his fingers, tracing patterns on her skin, leaving trails of fire as he explored her body. And then, his other hand...she could feel it now, between her legs, his fingers rubbing and probing, working her into a frenzy. She had struggled, her body thrashing against the bonds that held her, her breath coming in desperate gasps as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.
That's why her panties had been so wet when she'd been rescued. Soaked and sodden, like the gusset of her black hose was now. Worse, Mesmero had hypnotically commanded her to enjoy it. She remembered that now: The cream that had flowed from her young vagina at his touch had been her body's response to his mental orders. She had wanted to fight, but her body had been compelled to obey him. Jean's breath seized in her lungs. She could still feel the echo of those hypnotic commands, writhing in her mind like a serpent. She was afraid to move, afraid to speak, afraid to do anything that might trigger the residual compulsions she felt coursing through her veins.
But Scott didn't need her to speak. Her body's responses were enough to tell him that, whatever else she might be feeling, Jean was open to his touch. Gently, ever so gently, he reached down to grab her pantyhosed ankles, pulling her legs apart, opening her up to him. He saw her eyes grow wide, her lips part in a soft gasp. He felt a primal thrill at the sight of her legs spread for him, her pussy folds obvious under the sodden hose and pink panties.
Her breath hitched, her body tensing for a moment. "Mes...I mean, Scott...what are you doing?"
Scott didn't respond, instead lifting her legs gently, her feet still in her high heels, and putting them astride his shoulders as he knelt down to face her wet pussy.
Jean couldn't believe it was finally happening, she was spread wide open for him, her beloved boyfriend and hero.
"Scott...please," she gasped. Jean blushed deeply, her body trembling with uncertainty and arousal. She had never been so exposed, so vulnerable in front of a man. But the raw hunger in Scott's gaze was intoxicating, and she found herself wanting to please him, to be whatever he wanted her to be.
"Oh God, Scott -" Jean blurted out, her hands frantically searching for something to hold onto. Her eyes, wide with shock and desire, met Scott's look of hungry intent. She could see the bulge in his pants, could feel the heat radiating off him.
Jean moaned, feeling a shiver of pleasure run down her spine. He took a knee before her sodden crotch, and she had read enough romance novels to know what he was going to do next.
Still, she started and squealed when the tip of his tongue pushed insistently right where her clitoris stood, cover by her thin undergarments. "Ohh! Oh, my god...yes...please!"
At the clear evidence that she was putty in his hands, Scott paused a moment. Jean closed her eyes, waiting for him to continue tongueing her gusset.
But instead, he spoke: "Did Mesmero take you like this, Jean? Did he lift up the miniskirt of your little costume and lick you through your nylons?" Scott punctuated his question by leaning down again, running his tongue slowly, tantalizingly over her crotch.
Jean yelped in surprise, her body jerking back, but he held her hips firmly in place, preventing any escape.
Again, his voice carried in the dark stillness of the room: "Did he taste you like this, Jean? Did he lick and suck your pussy through your nylons, just like I am now?" Scott's voice was low, gruff with desire, and it sent shivers down Jean's spine. She could feel his breath on her, hot and heavy, his stubble rough against her smooth thighs. She could feel the impact of his words in her skull, and it made her quiver with uncertainty.
Jean whimpered, her legs trembling as she tried to process the sensation and the filthy question. She wanted to deny it, to tell him that Mesmero had never done anything like that to her. But the truth was, she wasn't sure. She remembered the way he had looked at her, the way he had touched her, the way he had made her body respond against her will. And now, with Scott's tongue lapping at her through her pantyhose, she could feel the same betraying heat, the same desire. "I...don't kn-!" she cut off her answer as his tongue ran the length of her nyloned slit again, this time probing the pliant pantyhose, seeking access to her pink panties.
The combination of his words and his ministrations made her squirm, her inner thighs fluttering. Jean's eyes shut tightly, her body writhing as if trying to escape his question and his mouth. But he wasn't letting her go anywhere. His large hands, strong from years of combat, gripped her hips, holding her firmly in place.
Jean's hands clutched at the bedsheets, her knuckles white as she arched her back, struggling to both move away and be closer to Scott, such was her overstimulation.
"Ohhhh goooodddddd!" she moaned, her voice husky with desire. Jean's body writhed on the bed, her motions sinuous and instinctive. Her bra-less breasts, full and heavy, flopped about as she moved, the nipples hard and distended from Scott's earlier ministrations. They swayed with her motions, brushing against her own arms as she clutched at the bedsheets. Her thighs and calves flexed beneath their stockings, the muscles taut and defined as she quaked. Her high heels, still on her feet, swayed gently as her feet rested on his shoulders, the heels clicking softly against the cotton of his dress shirt.
Jean's body was a marvel to behold, her movements fluid and graceful despite her lack of experience, her hips rising and falling in a rhythm that was both desperate and sensual.
Jean knew Scott could see the dark patch of her pussy through the wet material, could see the way her labia swelled and pouted, desperate for his touch. Since her capture, Jean knew her pussy had craved this sort of attention, but she had never let herself think about why: Now, she realized painfully that Mesmero had primed her for this; he had made her want a cock between her legs, made her want the friction and the fullness and the carnal pleasure of being pounded hard and fast.
She moaned loudly as his mouth continued to treat her, her hips bucking against his face, her body seeking more of his touch. She could feel the tension building inside her, could feel the heat coiling in her belly.
Suddenly, he grabbed her ankles -pulling them off his shoulders- and stood. Jean lay there, covered in her own arousal, and looked up at him.
Her next words surprised even her. "H-how do you want me?" She had never been so bold, so open, but she wanted this. She wanted Scott to take her, to claim her as his own.