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 4 (Final Chapter)**
"H-how do you want me?" Jean had said, looking at her beloved boyfriend with wanton eyes. It was the most submissive Jean had ever been, but his behavior this evening had made it feel so right.
The words hung in the air for just a moment, and then:
Suddenly, Scott was upon her, grabbing her by the hips and spinning her. Before she knew what had happened, she was positioned on all fours on her bed. Jean gasped as she recovered from his abrupt manhandling, knowing what her new pose meant. She braced herself, her body trembling with anticipation and longing.
Scott ran his hands over her quickly, his fingers tracing the seam of her pantyhose down the crack of her ass, and then, gripping the crotch, and tore it open with a sharp tug. The sound of the nylon ripping echoed in the room, the noise harsh and somehow erotic. Jean yelped in surprise, her body jerking at the sudden movement.I thought he would pull them down, she thought. But no. It's better like this.
She felt the cool air of the room hit her exposed pussy, her oversensitive flesh tingling from the abrupt change in temperature. Jean could feel the remains of the pantyhose clinging to her skin, the ragged edges brushing against her inner thighs as she trembled with anticipation. She knew how she must look: her ass high in the air, her pussy exposed and wet, her nylons torn, black high heels still in place. She could feel Scott's eyes on her, hot and hungry.
"Jean, are you ready for me," he growled, his voice thick with desire. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers wrapping around the ragged waistband of her hosiery.
Jean nodded, her body trembling with anticipation. "Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "P-please fuck me, Scott. Please."
She heard his pants unzip, and then it was there: the thick length of his cock -a strong, large cock as impressive as the rest of him- pressing against her folds, the heat radiating off him. She shivered, her body aching with anticipation. She wanted him inside her, wanted to feel him fill her up. She had never experienced anything like this before, and the thought of Scott taking her like this, so roughly and so completely, made her pussy clench with desire.
Scott grasped her hips firmly, his fingers digging into the torn remnants of her nylons, using them as leverage to pull her back onto his throbbing cock. As he entered her, Jean gasped, her body stiffening at the sudden intrusion. She was extremely tight, and she felt his penetration slow after just a few inches in. But Scott was relentless, his hips driving forward, his cock forcing her open, filling her completely. She could feel every inch of him, could feel the heat of him as he stretched her, as he claimed her.
Jean's body was on fire, her inner walls clenching around him as he moved, her pussy making lewd, wet noises with every thrust. She could feel the heat of his cock, the slickness of her arousal coating them both, turning them into one messy, primal creature.
With every hard thrust, her legs shook, her feet kicking slightly in her heels, the clacking sound echoing in the room. Her ass, round and firm, bounced against Scott's hips, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the air.
She could feel the rough, violent way he was claiming her. With unexpected relish, Jean moaned, the sound low and guttural, a primal sound that escaped her lips without her consent. She felt like a whore, a slut, being taken on all fours by this man she owed everything. That he was her team leader, that she'd been following his command for years somehow made the whole thing more exciting.
With each thrust, Jean could feel him hit the deepest parts of her, parts she didn't know existed. She gasped, her breath coming in short, sharp pants, her body shaking with each impact. "Oh, God, Scott," she cried out, her voice ragged with pleasure and pain. "You're fucking me so hard, Scott. You're making me yours!."
Scott just grunted, his cock pistoning in and out of her, his body slapping against hers with each thrust. His grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass.
"Take it, Jean," he growled. "Take all of me. You're mine, and I'm taking you every night for the rest of our lives."
Jean could feel the words reverberate through her, sending shivers down her spine. She knew that he meant every word, that he planned to claim her, to possess her fully. The thought sent a jolt of both fear and excitement through her. She was his, and he was taking her; there was no denying that.
He started to fuck her in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hips rolling against her ass, his cock rubbing against her a delicious spot along her vaginal wall with each measured thrust. Several times he would pull back, his cock sliding out of her until only the head remained, and then pound back into her, his hips smacking against her ass with a resounding crack. Jean gasped, her body jerking forward, her face pushed into the bedsheets.
She continued to moan, the pleasure-pain of his rough lovemaking sending shockwaves through her body. The constant changes in pace, the deliberate way Scott was now fucking her...she could feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein, as he moved in and out of her. She could feel the heat of him, the slickness of her arousal coating them both. She could hear the wet, obscene sounds of their bodies coming together, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the lewd sucking and popping noises as Scott's cock pulled out of her, only to slam back into her a moment later.
Her clitoris vibrated from the pounding, and she knew she was getting close; the sensations were overwhelming. She whimpered as he spoke to her, his voice hard and intese: "That's it. Take me, Jean. You feel so good."
"Scott, I–I can't, it’s too much–" she began, her voice thick and desperate. But Scott didn’t let up, his hips continuing their relentless pounding. At his next deep thrust, Jean couldn't hold back any longer. Her body tensed, her back arched, and a long, low howl escaped her lips, her voice hoarse with pleasure.
Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her and leaving her gasping for breath. Her pussy clenched around Scott's cock, gripping him tightly, as if trying to pull him deeper inside her. She could feel every inch of him, fill every part of her, and she loved it. She loved the way he felt, the way he sounded, the way he smelled. She worshiped every single thing about him.
Her body was taut, and a guttural groan tore from her throat, filling the room, her voice raw and lustful. Her whole body clenched tight around Scott's cock, her pussy grasping at him like a vice. Her legs, still clad in the ragged remains of her pantyhose, kicked out wildly, her heels flying from her feet, the shoes landing on the bedroom floor with dull thuds.
He saw her through the entire climax, and it was long. Jean's body writhed and bucked, her hips moving in a primal, instinctive rhythm, his hips continuing to slap against her ass as he pushed her slong ot the end. "Scott...oh, ohhhhhh...Scott!" she cried out, her body shuddering with the force of her release.
As she rode the end of the orgasm, the convulsions wracked her body. Every part of her tensed and untensed spasmodically: her toes curling inside the torn remains of her nylons, her shoulders rolled as she ground her face into the bedsheets, and -to Jean's shock- her pussy, with a last gasp, gave a throbbing squirt. A stream of creamy girlcum gushed from her, soaking the bedsheets beneath her, her juices dripping down onto the mattress in hot, wet lines.
The scent of their lust filled the air, heady and intoxicating, as Jean's body continued to quiver with aftershocks. She could feel the sheets beneath her growing damp, the cool cotton turning hot and slick against her skin as her cum leaked out of her, soaking everything.
But even as she began to sink to the bed, exhausted, she felt a sudden yank in her long, red hair, jerking her back. Oh! Scott! Jean felt selfish. He hadn't cum yet, and he deserved his turn.
His hands in her hair guided her arch, and Jean submitted, trying to ankle her throbbing pussy the way he wanted. Despite her exhaustion, she continued to cry out as he fucked her, fewer moans and more whimpers now. Scott grunted, his hips moving faster, his cock pistoning in and out of her with a renewed fervor. With one hand, he held firm on the waistband of her tights, pulling her repeatedly against his hips, filling her to the hilt with every thrust. With the other, Jean felt him release her hair, and suddenly he was covering her mouth again, muffling her moans.
His hand was rough and demanding, and she surrendered to it, opening her mouth and allowing him to put two fingers between her lips. The sensation of his hand over her mouth was purposeful, erotic, and she could feel her body beginning to shake again, this time from the raw, primal sensation of being dominated.
Jean felt her body priming to cum yet again, her virgin pussy gripping his cock like a fist, her inner walls fluttering. Scott sensed it, too, and his grip tightened over her face; Jean felt helpless to his desires, a prisoner again.
The sensation of being so thoroughly owned and used was intoxicating, her body responding to the rough treatment as she ascended the heights of lust once more, almost to the precipice. Her hips moved in sync with his, driving his cock deeper into her with each savage thrust.
Jean screamed into Scott's hand at the sudden intensity, her body tensing and then releasing again as her second orgasm hit her like a freight train. She could feel Scott's cock throbbing inside her, the sensation more beloved than any she had ever known. She could feel his hips, moving faster and faster, his cock slamming into her with a brutal, primal intensity. And suddenly she could feel his cum, hot and thick, filling her, flooding her pussy with his seed.
Her inner walls pulsed around him, milking him for every last drop.
As the last tremors subsided, Jean collapsed onto the bed, her body a limp, boneless mess. Scott withdrew from her, his cock pulling out with a wet, obscene sound.
She felt empty without him, but also deliciously sated. She rolled over onto her back, gazing at him through heavily lidded eyes, her utterly ravished state of near nudity gratuitous and unheroic, but undeniably erotic.
Scott stood up, looking down at her with a satisfied smirk. "You look so beautiful, my little Jean," he said, stroking her cheek with the back of a finger.
Jean smiled a little awkwardly, sighing with a breathless, contented sound.
Her body felt bruised and used, but in a good way. She reached out a hand to touch Scott's face, her eyes soft and filled with love. "That was...intense," she murmured.
Scott smiled back at her, but there was a strange, almost predatory gleam in his eyes that Jean didn't quite understand. He took her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. "I'm glad you liked it, Jean," he said, his voice low and husky. "It will be my good fortune to take you like that every night from now on, if I choose."
There was a sudden, inexplicable shift in the atmosphere. Jean's smile faded, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Scott. There was something off about him, something that made her suddenly uncertain. She tried to sit up, but found that her body was still too weak, too unsteady.
She could feel Scott's eyes on her, hot and intense, and she turned to look at him, her body tensed, ready for more. She opened her mouth to speak, to say to him something, anything, about what they had just done, but her words caught in her throat as she looked into his face.
And that's when she saw it.
A flicker, a momentary flash of something that wasn't Scott, something that didn't belong. His face contorted for a moment, and then it was gone, replaced by the familiar, ruggedly handsome features of the man she loved. But Jean had seen it, had felt it, as plainly as if someone had plunged a cold blade into her heart.
She wasn't sure what had just happened, but she knew, with a terrible, gut-wrenching certainty, that something was very, very wrong.
She tried to push herself up, to get away from him, but her body was still so weak, her limbs like jelly. Scott placed a hand on her shoulder, pressing her back down onto the bed.
"Stay still, Jean," he said, his voice low and soothing. "You're just feeling a little...overwhelmed. This is all new to you, after all."
Jean looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. "Scott, what...what just happened?"
Scott smiled down at her, but there was an edge to it, a cruelty that made Jean shiver. "Nothing, Jean. We just made love. Isn't that what you wanted?" Scott's voice was smooth, almost soothing, but Jean could hear the edge of steel beneath it. She felt a shiver of fear run down her spine as she looked into his eyes. There was something dark there, something that didn't belong.
"But...but I felt something, Scott. I saw something. Your face..." Jean's voice trailed off, her mind racing. She felt a wave of nausea hit her as her mind reproduced the strange, almost demonic contortion of Scott's features. She tried to push the thought away, to tell herself that she must have been imagining things.
It's just...just because I'm tired, or because that was so intense. But the image of that face, that dark, twisted face, lingered in her mind, a malevolent shadow that refused to be ignored.
Scott's hand trailed down her body, his touch both soothing and possessive. Jean braced herself for what might come, her heart pounding in her chest. But instead of the gentle caress of her cheek that she might have expected, Scott's hand cupped her mound, his fingers gently playing with fiery red pubic hair.
"I can't believe you're mine now, Jean," he murmured, his voice low.
But there was an undercurrent to it, a dark edge that sent a shiver down her spine. His hand moved lower, his fingers tracing the line of her slit through the torn nylons. He found her clit, rubbing it gently, making her gasp and squirm.
"You're still so wet, pretty Jean. I can feel how much you want me." His voice was a low growl now, and Jean could feel the heat of his breath on her neck. As before, her body wanted to arch to meet him...but she restrained herself, the anxiety refusing to go away.
"Scott, I-I'm not sure I want to do this again, not so soon..." she stammered, her eyes wide with uncertainty. "I'm still...I'm still processing everything."
His hand continued to play with her mound, utterly lacking in self-consciousness, as one might pet one's cat. "I always wondered, pretty Jean," he said as he rubbed his white spend up and down her slit, "if your carpet matched your drapes."
He chuckled, and she felt that laugh reverberate through her body. He parted her labia, exposing her clitoris, pink and raw, and rubbed his fingers across it roughly, eliciting a gasp from her. "I'm glad to see it does."
Jean gasped, her body tensing beneath him. "Scott, wait. I'm not sure–"
But Scott wasn't listening. He was talking as he pet her possessively, speaking almost to himself. "You know, Jean, you always wore the most revealing costumes when we battled. Little leotards, pretty tights...and that one with the green miniskirt. I can't tell you how many time I fantasized about the pretty panties you must have been wearing beneath it." Scott smiled then, and Jean knew it was not her imagination: something was wrong. His smile was too wide, too sharp, and his eyes...even behind the glasses, his eyes were not Scott's. They were dark and hungry, predatory.
Jean's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She tried to push herself away from him, her hands flailing at the bedsheets. But Scott was strong, stronger than she had ever known him to be. He held her down easily, his hands pinning her arms to the bed.
"Scott, no," she pleaded, her voice trembling with fear. "I'm not ready yet."
"Do you remember, pretty Jean," he asked, looming above her large young breasts, holding her down, "the first time I took your nipples between my lips? Of course, you were tied up then, and couldn't really say 'No,' now could you?"
Scott's voice was a low growl now, and Jean could feel the heat of his breath on her neck. She shivered, suddenly feeling cold, despite the heat of their lovemaking.
"What...what did you say?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear and confusion.
"You heard me, pet," he replied, his voice smooth as silk, but with an edge that sent shivers down her spine. "You were tied up, and I took your nipples between my lips. You remember, don't you, pretty Jean?"
Jean's mind was racing, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the memories bubbling up to the surface, like a dark, murky pool. She tried to push them back down, tried to tell herself that this wasn't real, that Scott couldn't be talking about this.
But the feelings were too strong, too vivid.
The way Scott had looked at her, his eyes dark and intense, predatory. The way he had touched her, his fingers rough and commanding, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The way he had rubbed her nipples, not gentle at all, but rough and insistent, just like when he'd been fucking her. The way he had looked at her, the way he had made her body respond...against ...her will?
"Scott, please," she begged, her voice trembling with fear and confusion. "What's happening? Who are you?"
Scott's grip on her wrists tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh. His eyes were dark, almost black, and there was a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You don't recognize me, pretty Jean? After all those battles, after all we've been through?"
Jean shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. "I...I don't know. Please, Scott, let me go."
The man above her chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down Jean's spine. "You'll call me Master. Remember that, pet. That's all it took - a touch, a whisper of something familiar...a romance for which you'd so obviously pined. All I had to do was be who you'd wanted for an evening...and then you were mine. And now, here we are, true lovers after all. All mine forever, Jean."
Jean's breath hitched as a sudden, terrible realization washed over her. She remembered the cold warehouse, the darkness, the sense of being trapped, of being...owned. She remembered the touch of another, not Scott, but forceful, calculated, cruel. She remembered the voice, not Scott's, but something else, something dark and twisted.
"Mesmero..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes wide with horror. And as soon as she said the name, her captor laughed, dropping the illusion completely, confirming her worst fears: Where once she had seen her beloved boyfriend, now she saw her villainous captor.
Jean's mind raced as her new reality overtook her. The hypnosis, the manipulation, the intensity of his touch. Never Scott. Only Mesmero.
Jean couldn't believe it. She felt betrayed, used, violated. "Let me go, Mesmero," Jean said, her voice shaking with fear and anger. "Let me go now, or I'll–"
"Or you'll what, pretty Jean?" Mesmero asked, his voice a low growl. He leaned down, his lips brushing her bare nipples again. "You want me to let you go, pretty Jean? Very well." With that, he let go.
Her wrists were free, her body no longer pinned beneath his. But as Jean tried to push herself up, she found that her limbs were sluggish, unresponsive. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, but her body was heavy, uncooperative.
She looked up at Mesmero, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. "What...what have you done to me?"
Mesmero smiled, his eyes dark and triumphant. "A little insurance, my dear. Hyponotic suggestion that works on a wavelength quite distinct from your own powers. You were a puzzle at first...but now that you've...opened...yourself to me, you have forever become much, much more malleable."
Jean tried to move again, but it was no use. Her body was heavy, leaden, as if bound by invisible chains. Panic surged inside her, but Mesmero just chuckled, reaching out to cup her breast once more. "Now, hear me, girl." He stared into her eyes, his mutant power of hypnosis gripping her once more. "You will see me as Scott once more, and you want nothing more than to pleasure me, to convince me again to take your once-virgin hole.
Jean struggled, panicked. "NO! I'll never-"
Mesmero snapped his fingers.
Jean's eyes glazed over, her body relaxing as the hypnosis took hold. She could feel her mind slipping away, her consciousness willing to obey his commands. She felt a sense of peace wash over her, a sense of acceptance. She loved "Scott," and she wanted to make him feel pleasure.
"Good girl," Mesmero/Scott murmured, his voice thick with lust. He ran a hand down her naked belly, his touch rough and possessive. Jean moaned softly, her body arching into his touch. "Would you do something for me? For your loving boyfriend?" he asked, his voice thick with lust his hand began to fondle her leg, his fingers tracing the torn remains of her stockings. "I think we should take a vacation. Somewhere away from the rest of the X-men." He rubbed the back of his forefinger at the junction of her thighs, barely grazing her beautiful red pubic hair. "Would you message them for us? Let them know that we're take a break, and not to come looking?"
Jean could feel her body respond, her pussy clenching with desire as she found herself wishing strongly to do as he asked. She wanted to please him, to make him happy, to give him what he wanted. "Please, Scott," she heard herself saying, her voice filled with longing. "I'll do anything you want."
Mesmero stood then, hands behind his back, and turned to survey his lair, the dilapidated warehouse, the chair, the ropes...all where Jean had remained his captive for weeks...all where he'd hypnotically staged a "rescue" by "Cyclops" that had never occurred...and all where Jean still saw only setting for the most enchanting evening she had ever been given.
"Scott" smiled menacingly, his hypnotic mask infallible now.
"Excellent, my love. Excellent."