Another Change in Perspective

"Did you know we actually forget things on purpose?" Emma's voice was in Sue's ear now. There was no telling how close she was. Sue could've made her eyes perceive Emma Frost, could've simply uncloaked her, but both options seemed unbearable. She could only stand there, in her lust and her weakness, and be tempted. "It's true. Imagine if every single thing that had ever happened to you could be called up at a moment's notice. It'd be torture, wouldn't it? Sensory overload. For our own sake, we reduce the detritus of our lives to vague blurs, scents and impressions, so we can live in the now instead of being held prisoner to the past. But you, Susan—you try to sandpaper past, present, and future into one smooth slope, sliding down unimpeded from your birth to your death. I'm not offering you memories, dear heart. I'm offering you the here and now. My fingers in your cunt, right now, and my cock up your ass in five minutes. And the only way you could say no—is if you didn't know what you were being offered."

Suddenly, Sue felt Emma's hand in her hair, the force of her muscles pulling on her scalp, forcing Sue's face up into Emma's warm breath. It smelled of lilacs. "And we both know you can't pretend that."

Emma kissed her and Sue remembered everything.

She remembered being face down in a sex club, her best friends arranged in front of her. They were sitting on their hands, not allowed to masturbate, naked from the waists down (at least), but clenching their tights together for the faint pleasure. Janet was even opening her legs extra wide to flash her pink pussy at Sue, either mocking her or promising her something.

The reason they weren't allowed to masturbate, and the reason they wanted to, was Emma Frost. She was wearing her White Queen costume, known and feared through the superhero community as the brand of the Hellfire Club. The only bit of color on her was the yellow and blue dildo strapped to her hips, a sardonic tribute to her current beau, Cyclops of the X-Men. And it was buried all the way in Sue's ass. Though she was bent over the table of the private booth all five ladies were crammed in, Sue might as well have been bowing to Emma.

"Do you want to go cold turkey and get my cock out of your ass?" Emma was asking, finishing a lengthy extolling of the drug Sue had literally eaten out of Emma's hand. "Or do you want another hit while I fuck you like the bitch you are?"

Sue hadn't even hesitated. "Muh-mistress!"

Emma took that as the plea it was. She withdrew just enough to get a running start, then impaled Sue with one surge of her hips. The ladies in front of Sue—her friends and colleagues—tightened their thighs together as one. Sue could smell their arousal. She could see it glistening on the seats below them.

"Enjoy my cock up your ass," Emma advised, sounding nothing more than solicitous. "It's going to be there quite a bit."

Despite her pleasure, Sue felt the fear of a winded animal being pursued. In her panicked, ecstatic state, she couldn't imagine Emma ever stopping. She was powerless, willingly powerless—and that left only the enjoyment. There was nothing she could do to stop the pleasure Emma was giving her and she wouldn't have it any other way. The fear sent adrenaline coursing through her, thicker in her veins than the drugs. It made everything vivid.

Once more, Emma held herself deep inside Sue. She took Sue's blond hair in one hand, vanilla blonde, such a small ways away from Emma's own rose gold hair, but so dour in comparison. Emma rubbed it between her fingers before pulling on it, the new pain forcing Sue's attention.

"Touch yourself," she ordered. "I'm under no obligation. If you want to come, you're going to have to do it yourself."

Sue understood. She parted her legs as much as she could with one of Emma's hands still on her hips, keeping her in place, then she shifted all her weight onto her left hand while her right ran underneath her prone body. She felt her clit and it was like it was hot to the touch, the intensity of the contact was so strong. A nudging push in her mind from Emma. She groped herself, the sharp feeling cutting into the pained pleasure of the dildo in her ass. Mixing but not mixing. Oil and water. Almost immediately, she—

(Sue remembered Emma's mind with hers, like they were hand in hand, running their conjoined hand over her sex, her perineum, her clit. Her fingers were soft and nimble, so different from all the callused touches she'd known—that was Emma's thought, not hers—they felt magnificent. And the cool lacquer of her manicure, when Emma pressed her to rake her nails over her cunt despite her fears... It was almost enough to blot out the lingering pain of Emma's penetration, but some always stayed, like spice. Just Emma shifting her weight was like an earthquake: more than enough to finish her off.)

"Sorry!" Sue breathed as she came. She had no idea what she was apologizing for.

Emma patted her on the back. "That's quite alright, dear. I think you've had enough of Cyclops. He's best in small doses." Emma withdrew a ways, and even that sent burning heat through Sue. It hurt so much more than it pleased, but she loved it and she held still without the slightest nudge from Emma. Emma stopped, neither hilted in Sue nor outside her, and being balanced on that knife's edge snapped Sue's mind. A tear ran down her cheek. When she saw her mascara running later, she wouldn't be able to remember where it was from joy or agony.

"Would you like some more coke, my dear? Like they say: it's the pause that refreshes." Sue could only nod. "Slut, time to make yourself useful."

Psylocke answered to her codename, bending down—it was an effort for her hands to avoid her pussy—and reaching into her stockings, where a sort of garter belt held more vials of the stuff. She poured one out in front of Sue and Sue went for it, but Emma held her tight by the hair.

"Janet, you've been having a profitable quarter. Why don't you give Sue something to keep her from making a mess? A large bill, I should think. As a fashionista, you should know how entwined expense is with enjoyment."

Janet had to pry her hands off the bottoms of her thighs, leaving white marks where they'd been clenched, but eventually she reached into her purse and brought out a hundred-dollar bill. "I'd pay ten times this to watch what's going down."

"You're not going to watch for much longer," Emma said meaningfully. She took the bill and rolled it up into a tight straw, then handed it to Sue. "You know what to do."

"I..." Sue picked up the money. "I..." She put it in her nose. "Oh, Emma."

She ran the dollar bill over the cocaine until nothing was left but a faint white smear on the stage.

This hit wasn't like before. It went in hard, hitting her in the pool of overwarm pleasure that Emma had made between her legs. It knocked away everything but EmmaemmaEMMA, that look on the back of her neck, those fingernails needled on her hips, that patch of skin where Emma's knee pressed against the back of her leg, the low and almost supportive way Emma's whisper (thoughts?) made it to her ear—"Come on now, that's it, there we are, good girl, ride it, I know it's rough, you simply must ride it, there, THERE, come down now, dear, you've had your fun, yes, can you orgasm once more? For me? Yes? Good girl, darling girl, such a good student, we're learning so much."

Sue couldn't even think of the dildo up her ass. It wasn't a part of her and it wasn't a part of Emma. It felt bigger than them. The world was darkness and her and Emma, and the feeling of being penetrated was at the center of it. Emma was the boundary, keeping everything tight and confined and cozy. And Sue... Sue was the darkness.

Later, her friends would tell her that she came four times, just from Emma swaying her hips with that cock deep inside. Janet would say it was six, but she was prone to exaggeration. They all agreed, and Sue vaguely remembered, that at some point (orgasm three?) her arms gave out and she just collapsed on the stage, her arms and forehead off the edge, her face covered by the hair reaching for the floor.

Emma pulled out by degrees, accounting for however other many orgasms Sue felt. By then, her high was finally dying. She just felt a chilly absence and realized she could rest and passed out for what felt like hours, but was really only a few minutes as Emma took off the dildo, had Betsy wipe it down, then put it back in its box, safe and sound.

Emma patted Sue on her well-used ass along with a mental nudge, waking her in time to hear "Get her on her feet, ladies. We're taking this party upstairs."

Everyone but Emma descended on Sue, eager to grope her as they lifted her up. Jen's hands—large but not mannish, just shockingly long fingers—sunk into her buttocks. Janet's—slender and child-like compared to Jen's—cradled her breast as they supported Sue's back. And Betsy's fingers were rough and callused where they gripped Sue's head, her other hand carrying the box under her arm, but her index finger possessively hooked in Sue's mouth. Sue was glad for the small debasement. Sucking on it gave her something to focus on as the cocaine erupted through her. Making her heart race and shake.

She was born aloft behind Emma like the prize from a hunt, club-goers parting before her to observe her degradation from new angles. The lights and music physically crashed down on Sue. Their waves bounced through her blood vessels and left her shaking like a struck cymbal. She thrashed and laughed. Laughed louder when Emma's guests reached out in passing and ripped off pieces of her garments. In only twenty feet she was stripped bare, her naked body glowing with sweat and shaking, hot and cold. She wondered if Emma's nods had anything to do with who was helping her disrobe. Did she nod to them before or after they stripped her? It was hard for Sue to tell.

The procession (hunting party, Sue's mind claimed) swept through the dance floor and up a spiral staircase the size of a redwood. In the rafters, with the sound and fury dimmed, Sue should've felt metal-cold. Instead she could've been in a boiler room. On her bare skin, her friends' bold fingers felt hot as brands.

Finally, they ascended to a mahogany door, tres out of place. Through it was Emma's office, which of course connected to a luxurious bedroom. Both were stark white, the office lined on both walls with paintings, each pair dominated by a different primary color. In that room, they looked like windows into other worlds. And despite what was downstairs, none of them were sexual. Flowers, trees, fruits—it could've been a museum exhibit.

At the far end of a space the size of a studio apartment, floor-to-ceiling windows of one-way glass looked down on the White Queen's realm.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Emma asked in a rhetorical mood. She sat on her ivory desk with its black drawers as Sue was carried past it, born like a virgin sacrifice to those vast windows.

In her mind's eyes, with the vulgar suddenness of a dirty word, Sue imagined a pillory made out of her own forcefields. It was of a special design: a large board in front with three holes for her arms and head to go through, then a neck that swept down and widened so she'd be bent over it at the waist. From there it narrowed straight down into a pole, which crept along the floor to become a second holed board for her legs. Struts projected to either side so the construct wouldn't pitch over with her weight. It looked like a horrible device, bending someone over and locking them in place, something Sue wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.

"Yes, mistress," she said, and when they set her down, she projected the forcefields, obediently bending down over its neck and 'strapping' herself in.

With the pillory invisible, she looked like she was frozen in ice, bent over an imaginary desk or table. Her ass was on display, as was her pussy underneath. So were her breasts, dangling under her. Sue could see them in the faint reflection of the dark glass. Along with Jen, Janet, and Betsy, growing in the mirror as they circled her.

Betsy slid a hand over her ass, while Janet ran her fingernails down Sue's steepled leg. Jen was the most aggressive. She reached right under Sue and grabbed a handful of cleavage like she was inspecting livestock.

After a testing squeeze on Sue's buttocks, Betsy's hand slithered down toward where Sue was pink and wet. Emma stopped her with a brisk command.

"Slut, bring me Wolverine." Betsy obediently trotted off. She went to the desk, pulling open a wide drawer. Bending over to do it, giving Emma a perfect view of her perfect ass. She put Cyclops's box inside—Jesus, Sue thought, she really does have Scott's dick in her desk—and took out another. Opened it.

Inside was exactly what Sue expected, only much larger. Cyclops had just seemed big because of the circumstances and the drugs. Sue guessed it was really only about six and a half inches. This was ten inches, and thicker, its brown and black coloring making it look still more masculine and threatening.

Emma clapped her hands together as Betsy fitted the new strap-on to her like a tailor. "This is Wolverine," she said, gesturing to her phallus like she was making introductions. "It's not true to life— Logan's is actually short but thick, rather like the man himself really, but I enjoy thinking of the look on Scott's face were he to discover this."

Sue saw Emma clearly in the reflection as she approached, white, gleaming. She was so pale she could've been the moon, her light only blotted out by Sue's body as Emma stepped around her. At her groin, reflection made the strap-on obscenely black. An abyss that Sue lost herself in; when Emma came around, she thrust the dildo in Sue's face, making it dominate her vision. Through Sue's adrenaline rush, it pulsed and throbbed mightily.

Emma ran it down Sue's face in a parody of a loving caress, the kind Reed might do from across the room, and it. Was. So. Cold. So refreshingly cold.

While Sue burned up, Emma put her out a little. "You haven't had any work done, have you Susan? Such a lovely face. More than the sum of its parts. That simplistic haircut. That weak chin. Those lost cheekbones. Yet it's all so naturalistic that one has to forgive the shortcomings. Yes, you're a veritable winsome beauty. I can't believe I'm going to let someone else fuck that face. But that's Emma Frost, I suppose. Generous to a fault." Perching the Wolverine cockhead on Sue's lips, she faced each of the others in turn. "Alright, poppets, now you get off. But only on our dear Susan's face. I'll leave it to you to sort out the pecking order."

Sue pulled at her bonds, but they were inescapable. The sleek, glassy feel of her forcefields was usually so comforting. Now they felt otherworldly enough to be threatening. They were hers, yet she couldn't control them (or herself). Emma had split Sue apart when she'd penetrated her. One half of her was still fearful of this pleasure and anyone who could possibly enjoy it. The other held the rest of her tightly captive, betraying her to the White Queen.

Emma circled around Sue to fit the dildo to her ass like a plug in a socket. Despite the stretching Sue had endured just minutes ago, her ass put up a token resistance to Wolverine's entry. Emma made an "mmm" sound and applied a little more pressure, than a little less. Sue clenched and relaxed. A little more pressure, a little less.

"You want to see me put this bitch on a spit before we start?" Emma asked the others.

They nodded eagerly, Janet letting out a tiny "Yes!"

Emma secured Sue's waist in her hands, then her hips—

(Sue remembered agonizing pain, sudden, indescribable. That alone she could've endured. She'd been in enough torture chambers and death-traps to stand up to anything. Except that a second after Emma roughly shoved herself into Sue, the pain was wiped away by pleasure. Some secret part of her was exploding and singing, and not because she was getting fucked in the ass. Because a woman was fucking her in the ass, a woman she wasn't married to. A woman that was stronger than her, prettier than her, better than her. And naughtier. So much naughtier.)

"Now fuck her face off," Emma commanded, twirling a lock of Sue's hair around her finger.

The three heroines swept in all at once, but Jen was easily the victor. She shouldered the other two aside like a linebacker and grabbed Sue by the ears. Her pussy was close enough for Sue to count the many hairs on it (not too many, of course, Jen being Jen, but she was definitely closer to being a meadow than a lawn), though Jen kept a respectful distance. "Sorry about this, Suzie," she said with a chagrinned smile. "But Shulkie want get off!"

"That's okay, I completely understand," Sue said. Tried to say. From the second word on, she was muffled by a giant green twat.

Not that Sue had much to compare it to, but Jen tasted good. Exotic, strong to the point of unpleasant, an acquired taste to be sure—but good. The gamma radiation must've changed Jennifer's flavor as surely as the rest of her, because her juices left a faintly burning aftertaste like watered-down whiskey. Sue loved it. She licked as best she could, but despite her tongue being feared by every member of the World's Greatest Heroes, it wasn't enough for the sensational She-Hulk. At least, not with her as keyed up as the last half-hour had left her.

"Stick out your tongue," Jen ordered, her deep voice rumbling with arousal, and Sue obligingly extended her tongue as far as she could. Not that Jen waited for that. She jerked her hips like a teenage boy at a dance, grinding her cunt into Sue's face until she had Sue's tongue trapped. Then she went faster.

Even with Jen holding back—she was, right?—She-Hulk frantically ramming her sex against Sue was like receiving a series of open-handed slaps. The taste filled Sue's mouth, setting her throat aflame. Then Jen stopped bothering with tongue altogether. She simply held Sue's head still and ground herself into it, running her sex over Sue's face in laughing delight. Sue felt her booming, full-throated chuckle as deeply as the rest of her. Jen was as hot as an open match held up to Sue's face, and her wetness marked Sue like war paint. Sue forgot about the pillory, and nearly forgot about Emma, and just—what was Johnny's word for it? Motorboated.

"YES YES YES!" Jen was as vocal as her cousin, though far more agreeable. When Sue was able to see past her magnificently thick thighs, it was up at Jen with Janet and Betsy hanging off her, either trying to move her so they could get their turn earlier or trying to leech off of Jen's sexual excitement. Or both. The way they bit and scratched at Jen could not be considered either wholly loving or wholly aggressive. They, and Emma's glorious smile, spurred Jen on. She threaded her hands into Sue's hair and forced her as deep as she could into her needy cunt.

It ended up covering both Sue's nose and mouth, instantly cutting off her air. And her vision, for that matter. All Sue could see was the sweet, cuddly pink that had been so incongruously situated in the midst of Jen's jade skin and dark hair. She struggled to breathe, turned her head to try to get away from Jen, but the giantess just went faster. Unapologetically rutting Sue's nose, Jen threw her head back to expose her surprisingly slender neck to her friends' love bites. Her pussy ran like a piece of fruit being squeezed harder and harder, now slathering Sue's face with her cream, filling her lungs with the smell of quim and nothing else.

With Sue suffocating, her head turned to the ceiling, her friends teething her neck like twin vampires, and Emma watching, Jennifer Walters dropped her mouth open and roared "YESSSSS! SHE-HULK COME!"