X-Men: Savage Land Scandal Ch. 04

But Ororo had never known that pleasure. Everything was power and responsibility with her, from the birth of her mutant power onward. Her Oliver Twist childhood, living as a thief and orphan, had tainted powerlessness—making her forever associate it with being hurt and afraid. She needed to see that, without the specter of controlling herself, she could know true ecstasy. Being controlled by another could push her past the limits she'd unknowingly set for herself. And who better than Jean Gray, her best friend and the mighty Phoenix, to help her on her path to self-discovery.

She whispered once more in Karl's mind. She wants you, Karl. You can make her want you...

At her urging, Karl's manhood swelled from semi-erect to full hardness.

***

Shanna was tempted to watch as Scott dressed—he was a handsome man, and his obvious modesty gave him a bit of an allure. She sensed in him a certain restrained but predatory impulse, like the many hunters who stalked and crept and waited for their moment to pounce. Logan was a T-rex; big and lumbering, even though he was quite a bit shorter than Scott—somewhat as overt as Piotr had been. But he was willing. Already she could smell his arousal through the water dripping off him, as he stood up from his bath without an ounce of the self-consciousness Scott had... hairy where Scott was smooth, practically unshaven where Scott was soft as a baby, his eyes groping her whereas Scott's were hidden behind his visor.

But soon, Scott was gone. Logan stood there. Shanna hadn't had a chance to see Scott's cock, but Logan's was proportionate to his body. Short, but thick and powerful, with the same compact strength that extended through his entire physique. He was brutish to the point of ugliness, but there was something too appealing about him to dismiss. A savagery. Virility. She found herself needing him to rut with her, as he so clearly desired.

He made the first move, of course. Sauntering out of his bath, leading with his cock, giving her just enough time to flee for Shanna to realize she didn't want to. She reached out to grab his cock, finding that it fit neatly in her hand, warm and hard despite the water. She knew what to do with it. She wouldn't mess up like she had with Zar. Instead, as if Colossus, she would squeeze him as hard as she could.

***

Scott was glad Jean wasn't around when he stalked out of the bathhouse. He was giving serious thought to going back in there, blasting Logan like he could've at any time, and taking that blonde supermodel like she was begging for. There had to be some way to end up respected as the leader—at the moment, that was all he could think of.

No, he had to control himself. Had to keep control. That would just make things worse. Sinking to Logan's level might win some temporary fear, but he'd forever lose the others' respect.

Assuming the other X-Men did respect him. Assuming they didn't feel the same as Logan, that he was a prig, a buffoon, a mascot, and they were all just too polite to say anything about it. They let him play at strategy and tactics, but when the chips hit the fan, would they listen to him or the Professor, or Storm, or Jean, or even Logan?

Scott felt the beginnings of another tension headache. He wished he could just rip his visor off and stare at the sun, letting the optic blast escape him until all of this restless energy was gone. But no. Even that was too risky. Imagine he looked elsewhere for one second, or there was a plane, or a satellite even. He couldn't chance it.

Every other mutant he'd met could control their powers. His power controlled him. And it was so... fucking... unfair.

Behind him, he heard a pained cry exploding from the bathhouse. Seemed like Logan was having a good time.

***

Karl felt a stabbing of guilt as he tightened his grip on the black woman's arm, but it was easily forgotten. She was absurdly posed, trying to pull away with him with one arm still mindlessly holding her towel to her chest, but beautiful nonetheless. And powerful. So powerful. He had only intended to get a taste, to sate the appetite his other self was always growling through, but she was so strong. So strong. He had expected a mutant and instead leashed a god.

So he hung onto her and took her power into himself, felt the old familiar rush. His blood thrumming, his skin pulsing, his muscles pushing against each other to grow outward. In one press, he went from anemic to superhuman, and just barely stopped. The woman fell to her knees—this pose more attractive than the last. Karl didn't want to drain her dry. She had something he wanted first, more even than all that delicious power.

He grasped her by that stunning white hair, forcing her face up to his. "Look into my eyes, woman. You are not looking into the eyes of a man. You are looking into the eyes of Sauron."

Even as Karl Lykos would not be denied, Storm would not be conquered. However belated, her rage at this treatment peaked, giving her the strength to push back the irresistible. With one last spark of defiance, she said "The bad guy from the Lord of the Rings?"

Her words were defiant, not carefully chosen.

Karl had been over this before. "It is a homage, a literary reference to the—" He caught his temper and intensified his gaze. Once more he could feel the power within himself. The greatest power of all. Mesmerism—to impose his will over that of others. With it, he could control presidents and kings, priests and pimps, cops and criminals. But right now, most of all, he wanted just enough control over this woman for her to have no control at all. "Look into my eyes, girl. They are not normal eyes. Do you see the way they shine? Don't you love how they shine?"

Ororo could only nod gently. Sauron was right—his eyes were like tiny jewels, and though it was day, it was almost as if milky moonlight was hitting them at just the right angle to make them glow. Like a silver light was coming right out of his eyes and into hers. For just one moment, like she was remembering a forgotten chore, it seemed incredibly important that she shut her eyes and not look at Sauron. But no. How could that be as important as looking into the depths of those amazing eyes?

"Keep looking into my eyes," Sauron commanded, his voice lowering. "Look very deeply into them. What's happening?"

"Getting brighter," was Ororo's weak answer. His eyes were like spotlights now, the light pouring from them painful to behold. Now Ororo tried to look away, but couldn't. Her eyes stayed on the silvery light that was spreading from his eyes to become his whole face.

"It feels good to look into my eyes, does it not? It is quite relaxing. The brighter they get, the more relaxing it is."

Ororo almost did not know that she said yes—she was mostly aware of thinking that Sauron was right (of course he was right), and that seemed like the same thing. It felt very good to look into the silver. The tension that had filled her body over her fight with Jean was gone. The lingering shame from escaping Emma's ship was also gone. All she could remember now was the pleasure of that masturbatory episode; it had stayed with her all this time, and now she realized Jean was right about her. She wanted more. She wanted the real thing.

"You would do anything to keep looking into my eyes, would you not?"

Ororo leapt to his meaning like a high-jumper. "Please don't take it away! Please? I need it."

"It will not go away, so long as you obey me. Will you obey me?"

"Yes. Don't take the good feeling away."

"I won't. The good feeling is getting better. You are getting more relaxed, even more at peace. You feel good. You feel better than you ever have in your life. You feel so good, so relaxed, so at peace that you could fall asleep right now. Sleep, girl. Let your body fall silent and feel nothing but the peace I bring to it. You want to sleep. I know you want it."

It was true. Ororo had felt so relaxed, so at ease listening to his voice and looking into his eyes, that it only made sense she felt a wave of sleepiness wash over before. She hadn't been tired before, she didn't quite feel tired now, but she felt so lethargic that she couldn't keep her eyes open. But she had to stare him into his eyes. She felt like she was waging a war. Her body's need to sleep, to obey, versus the good feeling that could only continue if she looked him in the eye.

Her mind grew fuzzy. The world fell away—sound and scent and taste and touch—everything but the marvelously silver glow of those strange eyes. The only thing letting her cling to consciousness when she was so tired that she could pass out. She could not form a single thought. She didn't even want to. Not when it was so important that she kept staring into his eyes.

"Sleep, girl. I will it. I command it. You must go to sleep. But not just any sleep. You are entering a trance. Your mind is becoming a void where there is only my words, my orders, your obedience. You will continue to know the good feeling in this void, but you will also be aroused. You will feel all the arousal that you hold back in your day to day life—all the arousal you feel in your deepest, darkest fantasies. I'm going to count down from five. As I count, from five to one, you will feel passionately aroused with each number I speak. The lower the number gets, the more pleasure you feel and the more you want. You will want to make love. Even if you have never been with a man before, this arousal will be like the good feeling. It is nice and relaxing. You will see nothing wrong with giving into it. This arousal is natural and good. I am counting now, and you are becoming sleepier and more aroused. Five."

Ororo swayed slightly and grabbed onto Karl's shoulder for support. Though she was usually quite reserved around strangers, now she saw nothing wrong with touching this odd man. She even thought of how nice he was, allowing her to hold onto him when her legs suddenly seemed so weak...

"Four," he said, and Ororo felt such a powerful sensation that she stumbled. Karl caught her in his arms, observing with some amusement that she'd fallen so the towel stayed draped over her front. Her subconscious aversion to sex must've been incredibly powerful. Still, now he could look over her shoulder and see the wonderfully rolling hills of her ass, so ripe and buoyant. Even covered, they would be a temptation. Bare, they were begging to be touched.

"Three." Ororo shook ever so slightly in his arms, from her hair all the way down to that amazing ass. Even that tiny motion was enough to make it jiggle. When she looked up into his eyes once more, seeking the good feeling, Ororo's eyes were dilated. Her breasts heaved with each breath.

"Two." Ororo gasped with another little shock of sexual pleasure. She closed her eyes and moaned softly. Karl could scent her now—smell her arousal even in his mostly human state. He broke the cadence he'd been using, making Ororo hang on the last sensation, and though she tried not to, she writhed with the need for more.

"One," he whispered, and Ororo went limp, her head slumping down to spill white curls over her face and down to her abdomen. "Are you in the void, girl?"

"Yes," Ororo breathed, and Karl could resist no longer. He reached for the towel preserving her modesty, thought better of it, and instead clenched his hand into a fist.

"Take off the towel for me. Show me your body. I want to see it. I am your master. You will obey me."

The sense of lethargy, of relaxation, that Ororo felt had deepened to the point of forming an abyss for her to fall in. Everything Karl said went through one ear and out the other, impossible to focus on, leaving only echoes that might as well have been Ororo's own thoughts. She wanted to be naked; but she also didn't. It was bad somehow. Dangerous. Even though she liked the danger, even though the danger aroused her...

Sauron saw her hesitation, her hands rising to the top of the towel and then trembling in mid-air. He was still weak, his power unsure. He needed practice.

"Look into my eyes," he commanded, and this Ororo obeyed almost needfully. "You like the glow from my eyes, don't you? You especially like seeing the glow with your own eyes. But it will feel even better on your skin. If you remove the towel, you will feel the glow on your skin, and the good feeling will be there too. The more naked you are, the more you can feel the glow. Do you want to feel it?"

Ororo did not answer. She just lifted her hands up, took hold of the towel, and slowly lowered it down her body. First, her breasts were exposed. Firm enough to be high-set, but ample enough to be soft, the perfect thing for Sauron's reintroduction to the female sex. He literally licked his lips, wanting to run his mouth all over them, but was unwillingly to end his dominance over her so quick and simply.

Feeling the glow from his eyes on her chest, Ororo's breasts heaved and her nipples hardened painfully, the only thing that could make her cleavage even more perfect. Karl watched, his breathing deepening and quickening, as the towel was peeled away from her flat, trim stomach, off her thick but sleek hips, even from her tightly closed thighs. He could just see the dark red glow of her labia crushed between her legs.

Ororo had expected to feel the same shame that had marred her pleasure as she escaped from Emma Frost's prison, but it never came. She loved the feeling of being naked and she loved the silver glow covering her body. It was like feeling warm sunlight on her naked body, but more intense, almost physical. She knew of only one thing that would feel better. Lying in Karl's arms like a swooning bride, she inched her legs apart. She played her hands on her fit body. She brought her fingers down the length of her ebony skin, feeling the heat of the glow on her palms and on the backs of her hands. Far below was her destination. The glow-warm flesh between her legs, where her hands would feel the full heat of the silver.

"I am your master," Karl repeated. "You must obey me. Close your eyes."

Ororo did, the command easy to obey now that she could feel the glow on her skin and in her hands. Her palms continued to wipe at the lingering moisture of the lake as they wandered down her stomach.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes, master."

"What is your name?"

"Ororo Munroe," she answered readily. Her fingers dipped into her belly button in passing. "Also called Storm, of the X-Men."

"Ororo..." Karl breathed, watching with bated breath as Ororo remained in control of herself enough to skate her hands down her hips. Or perhaps she had lost so much control that she couldn't stop herself. "You will not touch your vagina. That is for me alone. You may touch yourself elsewhere, but not there."

Ororo's beautiful face contorted in dismay, actually whimpering like a dog as her hands instead clenched at her thighs, rubbing and kneading the firm flesh so close to the needed destination.

"Now, do you want to look into my eyes once more?"

"So much," Ororo begged. "Please?

"You will stay in your trance. You will remain in the void. But I am allowing you to open your eyes."

Full of gratitude, Ororo opened her eyes. Again, she looked into the silvery glow that had consumed Sauron's face, eclipsed the whole world. Entranced as she was, she knew enough to smile. Looking into his eyes felt even better than feeling them on her body.

"Repeat after me," Karl said softly, even as he almost panted with the power he had over her. "Sauron is my master."

"Sauron is my master."

"Karl Lykos is Sauron."

"Karl Lykos is Sauron."

"Karl Lykos is my master."

"Karl Lykos is my master."

Karl hissed in contentment. "Who is your master?"

"Sauron."

"Who is Sauron?"

"Karl Lykos."

"Who is Karl Lykos?"

"My master."

"One last question." Karl bit his lip. He was painfully hard by now. It hurt just having his cock confined to the tattered jeans he had worn since coming to the Savage Land. "What would you do for your master? What would you do for Karl Lykos? What would you do for Sauron?"

Ororo smiled. It was such an easy question. So simple. "Anything he wants."

"I wish to know your darkest, most intimate fantasies. Tell me what you desire. Now."

Ororo opened her mouth and the words poured out. Every wet dream, every sick fantasy, every passing crush. She'd had no idea there was so much of it. She hadn't had to work on coming up with masturbatory fantasies of her teammates—she'd had to work to fool herself that she didn't already have them. Not just them, but celebrities, Avengers, even supervillains. Her doing things to them, them doing things to her. As soon as her lips were parted, it was all ripped out of her. She wasn't a goddess at all. She was a pervert who wanted to fuck and be fucked in every single way there was, from the most romantic imagery to the most dirty and depraved.

Finally, she caught her breath. "I want... to be kissed," she finished lamely. That most of all. That simple gesture that she had barely allowed herself, because that one thing could lead to so much more.

Karl tightened his arms around her, crushing her naked body to his, and forced their lips together. There was no romance to it, barely even sensuality. Just his power. So much power that even a goddess could bow before it.

Ororo felt herself moisten. The glow was all over her body, but where she really needed it was inside her.

***

Jean watched as Karl kissed her unwilling best friend, hungrily, passionately, domineeringly. Just the kind of kiss Ororo never allowed herself, and so just the kind of kiss that Jean knew she needed. There was no love in it, no emotion besides an almost wrathful hunger, but honestly, Jean thought that just made Ororo respond more passionately. It was hard not to notice how she twisted and turned her body into Karl's roving hands, how she moaned at each grasp he took of her offered flesh, how her inner thighs were now as slick and shiny as her core. It wasn't Karl's commands that had her responding so enthusiastically to his touch, nor was it at his order that she was so aroused by his lips on hers. It was just what Jean had always known—that Storm needed to be fucked just that badly.

And Karl needed it too, Jean sensed. He could feel the vast reservoir of Ororo's power, still locked within her body. And what a way he had to get it out.

Jean watched, the feeling of the water swirling around her nude body suddenly seeming more powerful, as Karl's hands roughly grasped Ororo's hair. She gasped as he jerked her head back, but her face quickly filled with a sultry smile as he tugged her lower. Was it him that forced her lips to his bare chest, urging her to kiss and suckle at his skin, or was that Ororo? Jean couldn't tell from a distance. She couldn't tell if Karl was urging her on or holding her back, trying to savor the feel of her tongue against his toned stomach while she was determined to kneel.

Then Ororo's hands were at his jeans, tugging at the waistband and zipper at the same time, anything to pull his endowment free of its confines. She succeeded, and Jean had to gasp. Karl must have siphoned much energy from Storm. He pressed down hard to guide her open mouth to his cock, but she was already falling upon it, and he ended up just holding Ororo's head between his hands as she bobbed up and down on him.

***

Half of Ororo was sucking on Lykos's cock and the other half couldn't believe she was doing it. Somehow, she was both—this seething slut who enthusiastically catered to Karl's every whim, and herself, Ororo Monroe, weather witch, still able to insist to herself how impossible this was as she forced every inch of him into her gullet. It was like having a sexual fantasy she couldn't stop thinking about, because it was really happening. She was really taking him in her mouth, tasting his precum as it trickled down her throat, the taste bitter but somehow delicious to her. She had never had anything like this in her mouth before, and she wondered if it could truly be there. To her horror, Ororo found her tongue wonderingly bathing his glans, confirming to her that it was his manhood settling in her throat.