X-Men: The Beginnings of Corruption

Softly aggressive music filled the air, signaling the start of the show. Jean recognized it as an instrumental version of Down in Mexico by the Coasters. Rogue began to move and stretch, painstakingly positioning her body in provocative stances. Her flesh rippled with each movement as she turned slowly to reveal herself to each corner of the room. When she'd completed one revolution and come back to face Jean, the redhead could see that her nipples were stiff and swollen.

Jean's mouth fell open. Rogue was not only standing naked in a room of strangers, but she was enjoying it. Becoming excited by it. Rogue stopped, arched her back to thrust out her breasts, and took off from where she stood, floating up through the air like a fairy.

Jean didn't know of many shapeshifters who could fly as well. Could that really be Rogue? Could a woman of grace and intelligence, her friend of so many years, really have hidden this side of herself?

Rogue touched down on a nearby table. She got down on her knees, throwing her head back, her entire body on display like a flower in the sun. One of the men at the table took the offer. He reached out and squeezed one of Rogue's plump tits. He pulled his hand back nearly immediately, some of his life force having been leeched away; Rogue barely suppressed a groan as she absorbed it. She straightened and gave him a wink. "Feel good, don't it babe?"

She rose again, leapfrogging to another table where she knelt and posed like a pin-up girl. A woman palmed her ass like she was checking a grapefruit for freshness. Rogue cooed again, taking her little sip of someone else's life. When she stood, Jean saw that her sex was gleaming with moisture.

She understood now. Rogue wasn't just stripping for these people. She was actually absorbing their lust for her, their arousal—mutual masturbation by the roomful. It was audacious. The sheer thought of Rogue with a hundred strangers' lusts in her head pinched Jean's thighs together. It would be like her reading the minds of an orgy; and that suddenly didn't seem like an unattractive proposition.

Rogue took flight again. She touched down on Jean's table, falling into a crouch like a cat dropping from the roof. She faced Jean so the redhead could see right between her legs to the tremble of her narrow slit. "Hey there, sugah. Been a long time. How long y'all wanted to see me naked, anyway?"

Felicia toasted her. "Forever and ever, my love." Giggling: "Forever and a day."

Rogue rose slowly, undulating her hips with every inch she gained, swaying her hands around herself in time with the music. With her hips jutting out, it was like she was offering her pussy up to Jean—inviting her to caress her sex. Jean licked her suddenly dry lips. Everyone in the room could see; everyone must know what was happening.

Emma ravished Rogue with her eyes. "A very tempting offer for the birthday girl," (Emma's preferred euphemism for Jean's rebirth), "but I think it's a bit early in the evening for that. Our Jeannie likes to watch. Just like she did all that time she spent as some cosmic entity—while I was fucking her husband's brain out."

Her anger suddenly outweighed her shock. Jean kicked Emma's shin hard but warningly. Emma just smiled.

Rogue looked over her shoulder at Namor, and slapped her own ass so it shook in his direction. "How 'bout it, seaman? Got a little sumthin for me to suck?"

"If the Prince of Atlantis were to give a performance, it would last considerably longer than these good people have allotted time for, and I would be remiss not to give advance knowledge to all who would enjoy looking on my visage... and that of yourself, shattering with pleasure."

"Thatta no, then." Rogue turned beaconing eyes to Emma. She, in turn, gave a nod to Felicia, who was squirming in her seat, her hands out of view.

Rogue followed the unspoken instruction. Eyes hooded with the pleasure she'd already absorbed, she slunk her way to Felicia. Knelt down with her bent legs far apart and rubbing her hands up and down her thighs. Her pinkly glistening sex thrust out and drew back, not a foot from Felicia's craven expression.

"Like mah titties, white-hair?" Rogue asked in her smutty drawl, drawing her hands out to the crowning caps of her breasts. She pulled at her own nipples, hard, and crooned out the pain. "Mmmm... y'all could slap 'em around a bit. They're so sensitive, and you wouldn't be touching me none too much. Bet you could do it for a while. Just watch those babies dance for you..."

"Touch..." Felicia took her hands out from under the table. Her gloves' leather reflected the candlelight. "Is not an issue."

"Well then!" Rogue's hands returned to her wide-spread lap. "Ah guess you can touch me—just anywhere."

Jean had to be imagining this. It had to be the smoke making her see things. Every bone in her body told her this was Rogue while every thought in her head said it couldn't be. It was like Anna-Marie had her own Dark Phoenix, filling her with a lust for everything and everyone in this world. And that touched a chord deep in Jean's body, seeing Rogue act out her own most unhinged fantasies, and that chord vibrated deep inside her. It brought an itchy moisture to her cunt, a painful hardness to her clit, and she had to squeeze her thighs even tighter together to control both.

Felicia reached out with her gloved hand and simply sunk it into Rogue's body, biting her lip as two fingers sheathed themselves right inside her. "Oh my—you're really tight, Rogue. Really hot, too. Wonder how wet you are."

"Find out," Rogue urged.

"Oh, ah will," Felicia teased. She pulled her hand away to see her fingers dripping with dew. Then she sucked them clean in her own full lips.

Jean turned to Namor, meaning to disbelieve everything she was seeing, but he was occupied. The waitress had returned, and Namor had pulled her to his broad chest. He was kissing her so hard her hood had fallen back, loosing locks of purple hair. Jean recognized her now. Psylocke. And with her cloak thrown aside by Namor's exploratory hands, she was revealed to be just as nude as Rogue.

What the fuck was happening?

Rogue reached out, her bare hand traveling slow and warningly. "Need a taste, sugah. Little sumthin to take the edge off. Can Ah get that from you and still find you good for anutha round?"

"The magazines say you have a piece of everyone you've sucked on floating around in your skull." Felicia clicked her teeth. "I think I'd like being inside you."

Rogue stroked Felicia's cheek, a long but fleeting touch, both women cooing as they shared their arousal. Rogue sensed Felicia wasn't satisfied with the skirted contact. She offered up her own two fingers and Felicia sucked them into her mouth, head bobbing on them with sudden intensity, letting Rogue absorb her through her lips before breaking away with satiated pain.

Rogue licked her lips. "You touched yourself before the show. Naughty girl."

"And you just felt me touching myself." Felicia gave Rogue a smile that Anna-Marie reflected right back at her. "How'd you like the real thing?"

Rogue craned her neck to Jean, gaze suddenly including the redhead in this perverse conversation. "Honey, you need to find yourself a new gig. This one's a mind reader too."

Nesting her fingers in the fur lining of Felicia's glove, Rogue held Felicia's hand steady and simply fucked herself on her straightened fingers. Her hips seemed to be made of jelly; she gyrated and swayed herself on those fingers, danced her way through the masturbation, breasts jumping, jiggling.

The music hit an explosive section that made Jean wonder if Rogue did this with someone every night; Rogue cupped her melon-sized breasts and offered them to the world as Felicia gripped her ass with one gloved hand, continued to feed her fingers with the other. Jean found herself leaning forward—she could almost see Felicia's fingers curling inside Rogue.

She only looked away when Namor spoke. "My lips are well-pleased with you, slut," he was saying to Betsy, her head breathlessly tilted to the side like she was offering up her neck to a vampire. Her similarly offered breasts were wet with his licking. "But now comes time for your service to please the Rod of Atlantis."

Betsy obeyed wordlessly. Following to her knees with her cloak in disarray, she unzipped Namor and pulled his fly open—all it took for his cock to spring out hungrily, ten inches of steel-hard flesh demanding worship. Jean would've been taken aback at such length, but Betsy simply popped her mouth open and buried her face in his crotch. Namor groaned, pleased, as his cock was swathed in the warm glove of Betsy's throat.

His expression was almost pained as he regarded Jean with the wanton Rogue between them. "Your friends are adept at lovemaking, Phoenix. I wonder if you are equal to the pleasure they give."

Emma's chin rested on her nestled fingers as she watched Rogue's fingering before her, lovingly interested in the spectacle. "Our shameless mutant sex-positivism makes us far better partners than most humans—but I think you'll have to be satisfied with learning that from Rogue and Psylocke. Jean and I have nothing to prove to you."

Namor roared with laughter as Psylocke gobbled up his cock like it was the last one on Earth. Every time its full length was sucked into her throat, she moaned around it like the very knowledge she could take it gave her pleasure. "The whores you've provided are ample evidence for your claims of supremacy." He cupped Psylocke's chin, smiling down at her. "Slut, please frig yourself as you take my manhood. I don't wish for you to wait too long to fulfill the lusts my presence ignites in you."

Betsy nodded and clawed between her thighs, his hands circling her head to hold her in place for a series of hard thrusts...

Rogue too seemed to be on the cusp of finishing, every muscle in her body tensing, showing off the sweat that covered her like a drizzling rain. Then Felicia pulled her hand away.

Rogue stopped dancing, though each panting breath bounced her cleavage in a way more enticing than any striptease. She stared down at Felicia in open hunger.

"I wanna taste," Felicia drawled, "right from the source."

Rogue was breathless as she scooted to the end of the table, her legs now dangling off the edge—she leaned back onto her hands and pushed her hips up, splaying her cunt right before Felicia. It was an obscene moment of intimacy. Jean could see her sex literally dripping.

And Felicia leaned in, the little tip of her tongue extended, to touch Rogue's clit with a wet quiver. Rogue groaned aloud, audible well over the slowing music. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut, her mouth openly panting. She nodded desperately. She was on the edge.

Felicia leaned in with her tongue and pushed her over.

It took a long moment: Rogue rolled her ass, grinded her hips on Felicia's face, setting off an ecstasy that echoed through her for at least a minute after she'd collapsed back onto the table and Felicia had fallen back on in her chair. Rogue in satiation, the Black Cat in drained exhaustion, but both in pleasure.

Jean looked over at Emma, needing to ask someone she knew 'Did you see that?', but she found Emma hungrily staring from Rogue's leaky cunt to Felicia's glossily parted lips. Her eyes were half closed. And she'd never looked more beautiful.

The only thing that could've pulled Jean away from the dark sensuality of that look on Emma's face was the sudden bellow from Namor. Jean looked over to see Psylocke, completely naked now, both hands on his shaft and her mouth on the head of his cock as it flexed in her mouth. Jean could see her cheek twitching outward. A tide of cum was crashing inside her mouth, and some melted out to return to Namor's balls. When Betsy was done swallowing—a prodigious task—she lowered herself to lick the spill away.

Jean felt like she'd been buried here. She was no longer a cosmic thing manipulating a tiny puppet of flesh and bone through a model world that she'd grown fond of. She was immersed in this lewdness. Sex was everywhere, cutting her off from all other concerns. Men and women were lusting with such loud thoughts that it filled the room with black smoke. Some looked hungrily at her, even, as they awaited the next performance. It was exciting, and when Jean felt her own skin, it was excited too.

Emma clapped excitedly, all smiles. The room exploded in applause with her like she was the fuse to a bomb. "Well-done, Rogue! Well-done, Psylocke! Please, stand, stand."

Betsy stood, coughing slightly and wiping her mouth. Her fingers and cunt were wet, but the latter was too inflamed to have been satisfied.

Emma tilted her head to the side in bemused affection. "Betsy... come."

And like a well-trained dog, Betsy collapsed to the table in an abundantly obvious orgasm, both arms splayed on the tabletop to hold herself up before she simply laid down next to Rogue. Streams of her arousal now flowed down her thighs.

Namor had done himself up and now appeared as poised as ever. "Not very sporting to simply order someone to have an orgasm."

Emma moved a chair for Betsy to sink into. "She'd earned it." Then she patted Rogue's upturned ass, causing her head to stir. "Come, Anna-Marie. Your shift's not over yet."

The room felt different now. Not mysterious—all too knowable. It was lewd, sensuous, immoral. Jean had never seen anything like it; just the fantasies that she'd overheard from mind to mind. She'd had no idea something like this was real.

She held her hand up, wondering if it would be there when she looked. Was she seeing things? Hallucinating? But her hand was there, even if her wedding ring was jet black without the light on it. She reached out and touched Rogue, felt a small suckle at her power and quickly retracted her hand. It was real. It was real and it had excited her far more than anything she could remember.

The only thing she could compare it to was the hunger she had known as the Phoenix. The frantic need that ignored all morality to be quenched.

She twisted and turned, trying to find a better way to sit when the whole of her pussy felt like it was on fire. Emma had pulled on white gloves, taking Rogue's hand and leading her up while cloaked waiters and waitresses attended to the semiconscious Felicia and Psylocke. The drinks arrived too. Namor poured for them while Emma fed Felicia's rum and coke to Rogue. Then she kissed her on the cheek before taking a small band from her jacket.

Jean recognized it. An inhibitor collar. Though Rogue had sworn never to wear one after a traumatic incident in the past, now she shamelessly offered her neck up for Emma to wrap it around. With her power blocked, Emma ran a careless hand through Rogue's hair and down her body.

"I'm so proud," Emma smiled. "You're really coming into your own here. I think you've even aroused Jean."

Rogue was giggly, grinning. "Ah can't believe ya brought her here! She practically just got back!"

"I knew how much you'd love it."

"Ah did. Her seeing me like this—oh, Gawd, I felt like my little coon would melt right off!"

Emma turned them to face Jean, who was still struggling to process all that had happened. She felt drugged now—sedate. She was trying to wake herself from the warmth, the arousal that had settled over her body. "I've promised her something of a backstage tour. Would you mind showing her to your next performance? I'm sure she'll find it fascinating."

"That? Already? Mistress, ain't it a little—"

Emma was still smiling even as her voice left no room for argument. "I have a special surprise lined up. It would really disappoint me if my lovely Jean missed it. So take her to the holes and let her see what a whore you really are."

Rogue shuddered in either intimidation or pleasure—or both. "Yes, Mistress."

"Good." Emma rewarded Rogue with a deep kiss that ended far too quickly for Rogue, judging by the look that next graced her face. Finished with her, Emma returned to Jean, taking one of the wineglasses Namor had filled and pressing it to Jean's hand. "Here. Take this. Wine and hashish are such a sophisticated combination."

"That's really Rogue," Jean said. She was staring straight ahead, to where Psylocke and Felicia were being helped away. "That's her—my friend—how did you...?"

"I offered her a choice between remaining a scared little virgin who made a cocktease of herself to make up for getting less action than Beak, or facing her fears in a controlled environment run by the country's premier sex therapist."

Jean focused on Emma suspiciously. Puzzle pieces were snapping together in her mind. "Why did she call you Mistress?"

"Because I own this place, of course. I employ her. It's one of the little things I ask of my guests, like keeping this delightful place a secret, or the occasional sexual favor. But now I must take my leave of you for the moment. As you can imagine, being a small business owner has its curses as well as its privileges, and I must attend to the former as much as the latter. Rogue will take care of you now. Since you've seen her first performance of the evening, I'm sure you're dying to see what she does for an encore."

Everything seemed too close. Usually, it was far away—just exercises in using her power waiting for an excuse. She looked at things through a telescope, and sometimes those things were marvels she wished to revisit again and again—like Scott. But now she was looking through the wrong end of the telescope. Everything towered over her.

"I'm... not sure... maybe I should call it a night."

Emma spread her arms. "If you wish to forfeit Mr. Summers, be my guest. I'm planning to bring him here next. I think he'd enjoy tomorrow's show—I'm planning an all-redhead number."

Jean's vision swam before her, stopping her from glaring at Emma as she wished. Rogue took hold of her as she swooned. "Hey now, don't you embarrass Red. She can go home if she wants. I can fly her there in ten minutes and be back in time for my next performance."

Emma shrugged. "Very well. Just hurry back. Not all our clients are so close-minded, and they expect their money's worth."

Namor pressed in on Jean's side suddenly. "No need to be so uncouth to Ms. Grey either. You assume she wishes to leave before she's even decided. Perhaps she's simply trying to make up her mind."

Everyone looked at Jean, who felt embarrassed and juvenile as she tried to look cool and unafraid.

"How about it, Jean?" Emma asked with perverse curiosity. "Will you stay or will you go?"

Jean couldn't help thinking of Scott. What would she do to get him out of Emma's clutches? Anything. Almost anything. "What's Rogue going to be doing?"

Rogue opened her mouth to speak, but Emma held a finger to her lips. "It's a surprise."

"...will I be expected to do anything but watch?"

"Not at all," Emma promised. Her smile returned. "But you can if you want to."

"I'll do it." Jean pulled free of Rogue's grip and advanced on Emma, getting right in the blonde's face. "It'll give us something to talk about when Scott's in my bed, holding me."

Emma stared right back at her. "The only way that will happen is if I decide Scott deserves a threesome for our anniversary—and Psylocke is busy."

Rogue took Jean's arm again and led her off. Jean's body was all swirling memories, mixed emotions—arousal. She felt excited and daring and fearful and wicked to be doing this. The hashish played another trick on her, transporting her out of the room and into a crowded hallway, Rogue pressing tight to her as they threaded through the other people. Her champagne glass was empty but she still held it. Anna-Marie was now dressed in a tied-off tee and cut-off shorts, her sense of style finally matching her ability to touch.