SSSS Chapter 18 (Patreon)

The next time Betsy opened her eyes, she was in the garage where Scott had parked his BMW. It was running, but the garage doors were open, letting the exhaust filter outside. It also let in the cold air, but with the structure of the garage as windbreak, the room itself was balmy enough. 

The BMW’s hood was popped, alligator clips on the car battery’s terminals and jumper cables leading away from them. However, there were no alligator clips on the other end of the wires. They’d been cut loose, frayed edges with buzzing wire protruding from the cables’ rubber sheaths. 

Jean held one of the wires in her hand. She was careful not to touch the exposed metal. Even through the rubber coating, she could feel the heat of the electricity between her fingers. “I hope you can understand, Betsy. Learning my husband was unfaithful came as something of a shock to me. I thought I’d return the favor.”

“Jean, don’t you think this might be too much?” Rogue asked, looking to Ororo for confirmation. “Ah don’t wanna kill the girl. She’s way too much fun not to keep around.”

“Oh, I think she’ll be fine,” Jean said mischievously. “We can always stop if she goes into convulsions.”

“She already went into convulsions,” Ororo pointed out, smiling darkly.

Betty’s supple body bucked and twisted against the tightly drawn bonds that held her hands behind her back and bound her ankles together. The muscles of her arms and legs grew taut with the effort; the abs in her stomach tensed with the strain until they were like a cobblestone path. Sweat glistened all over her creamy skin. Even in the middle of all this duress, she looked exquisitely beautiful. Jean couldn’t blame her husband for wanting her. But she could blame Betsy for giving herself to him.

She touched the wire to Betsy’s sex.

Betsy shrieked in pain, her body clenching as much as it could while still moving around, bucking violently. Fire ran through her nerves, filling her with a pain that seemed bottomless. Her hips whipped in all directions, a maddened frenzy of burning movement. Her long, lean legs showed muscles like telephone wire under flawless skin. Betsy’s almond eyes rolled back in her head, while drool ran from the corners of her mouth. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her gorgeously sculpted chest heaved as she panted for breath.

“Mah goodness,” Rogue said, seeing the electricity torment Betsy’s sleek, slender body. “We’d best untie her before we do that or she’ll rip her arms outta their sockets!”

“Fine,” Jean replied. “She isn’t going anywhere.”

With a thought, the bonds unraveled from Betsy’s wrists and ankles. She collapsed to the ground, the stiff impact nothing next to the pain she still felt smoldering in her body. Her dazed eyes canted around, seeing now that both Ororo and Jean held lengths of wire.

“It appears she still has some fight left in her,” Ororo said as Betsy pushed herself up to her feet.

Precariously standing, Betsy staggered back and forth, too dazed to think where to go and too weak to hold herself in place. Exerting the muscles of her long, tapered legs sent fresh agony through them. Her thighs buzzed with a constant itch, while her pussy and ass paradoxically flared with pleasure, the pain somehow reviving the satisfaction she’d gotten from Ororo and Rogue ravaging her.

“Not like this,” Betsy groaned in a slurred voice. “You can fuck me—fuck me until I pass out, if you want to, but don’t… don’t torture me!”

“But that’s the whole point,” Jean said, stepping up to her. “We’re using you… enjoying ourselves with you… making you our bitch… if you’re such a slut that you get off on it, well… either you should rethink your life or learn to enjoy being our whore.”

She touched the tip of her wire to one of Betsy’s stiff nipples, punctuating her words. Betsy’s mind was in too much of a haze to truly understand what Jean was saying, but she understood the meaning. She was Jean’s property now, even more than she had been Scott’s when she gave herself to him, and Jean would do what she wanted with her.

The wire’s electric scratch sparked a note of delight in Betsy’s sensitive nipple, the intense stimulation accepted by her oversexed body before it went further than that, making her nerves catch fire. Her tit pulsed maddeningly, both pleasure and pain dueling in her tender flesh. Then Ororo shoved her wire against the ample curve of Betsy’s ass. 

Betsy couldn’t think anymore. She lost her balance without falling, instead drunkenly weaving around, lost in the middle of the three women who surrounded her. The wires seemed to be everywhere, touching the silken hair of her pubic flesh, adding to the quivering in her soft thighs. Electricity scraped over her jiggling breasts and slender arms and taut belly. Jean brushed her wire against Betsy’s full lips, then Ororo’s pierced behind her ear. And one of them—Betsy didn’t know which—stuck her wire between her juicy buttocks. Betsy leapt so high in the air it was a wonder she managed to come down on her feet. 

The moment she did, Ororo reached for Betsy’s pussy, sliding the electric wire relentlessly down the soft pink flesh of Betsy’s mons. Betsy came, squirted, her pussy too sensitive for that much stimulation. She soaked both her own thighs and Ororo’s hand with sticky wetness. Then she clasped both hands to her groin and fell to her knees, submerged in a sea of pain, unable to believe the tingling ecstasy that was the ocean floor. Her hair stood on end. Gooseflesh swept over her supple skin as if marking the waves of alternating pain and pleasure that sought to dominate her consciousness.

“Get up, you dirty slut!” Rogue shouted, slapping Betsy across the face. “On your face! Dance for us! Ah wanna see you shake that hot ass! Make those nice tits jiggle for us like you did for Scott!”

Betsy jerked and shook. Her head rolled from side to side, purple-flared hair trailing behind it. She came up onto her feet on quaking muscles, her body stumbling one way, then another. Her hips bucked. Her buttocks flexed. Her stomach heaved, showing the hardened muscle between the tawny skin. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, while saliva marked her lips. She looked like a nymphomaniac, a sexual addict in desperate need of her next hit.

All she would get, though, was the lust the three women around her felt as they made her body contort painfully, a lascivious spectacle for their amusement. Someone touched a wire to her nose and Betsy jerked back, pain wrapped in a blanket around her head. As she screamed, someone else brushed a wire across her wet tongue. Betsy’s head flew back, as if she were letting out a scream, but the noise had been entirely cut off by the shock to her mouth. 

Rogue could not stand to keep watching. She grabbed a wire from Ororo and plunged it between Betsy’s asscheeks, right into the grommet of her hole. Betsy fell, flattening to the concrete floor, and she came again with her asshole pulsing rapturously. The other women laughed at her, jabbing her with their wires as Betsy’s eyes rolled back in her head. 

Her passion was so intense it was like she was reliving her night with Scott, only now she was paying the price for the sexual delight she felt—receiving hateful pain and decadent pleasure in equal measure, somehow. Or at least, so much of both that she didn’t know which exceeded the other.

With the toe of her boot, Jean flipped Betsy over. As soon as she was on her back, Ororo struck at her pussy again. This time she hit Betsy’s clit and the woman’s hips jabbed into the air as high as her body would take it. Rogue joined in, spearing her wire as far inside Betsy’s sex as she could reach. 

Betsy quickly lost track of where the transcendent sensations were coming from, where one shock ended and another began. She felt shocks hit the tightly clenched muscles of her inner thighs—her satiny breasts and throbbing nipples—the tiny cup of her belly button. Stinging scorpions attacked the backs of her knees and under her arms. Spider bites found every sensitive place on her shattered body. Lit matches traced along her trembling lips and rested inside her hands and stroked the soles of her feet. Every sensation Betsy felt was a tiny fire somewhere on her body and the rest of the world—everything that didn’t feel this way—shrunk into a small corner of Betsy’s mind. 

Convulsions wracked Betsy’s succulent body. Her arms and legs flew about as if in parody of the controlled grace with which she wielded them in battle. Her ass jerked back and forth in phantom coitus, trying to escape the electricity being fed into her sex, up her ass. Her head spun from left to right and back again, purple hair flying about her glazed eyes and bared teeth.

Spasms rolled through Betsy’s long, lean belly, making the chiseled muscles there undulate like a belly dancer’s. Every part of her body was alive with pain, but she couldn’t stop coming, her pussy always in some state of low-level enjoyment, a dull orgasm constantly greasing the rough edges of her sensations until Betsy didn’t know what she was feeling.

Jean watched her, proud of the punishment she’d devised and curious as to how much more Betsy could take. By now, she looked like she’d been outright possessed by the torture, her eyelids flickering, her body pitching to following the electricity burning out her nerves with sensation.

Ororo smiled with pure fury as she stabbed Betsy’s clit with her wire. She came, squirting again, like her body could save itself from the torment by salving her precious little pussy with as much cream as possible.

“Give me both of them,” Jean said, taking the wire from Ororo so that she was holding one in each hand. Her eyes stayed on Betsy, soaked with sweat, hips pitching as if struggling to recapture, to return to her night with Scott that had earned this punishment. “If you like being fucked by a Summers so much…”

Jean pushed both wires into Betsy’s pussy together. Betsy burst with wetness, her juices soaking Jean’s hands to the wrist, but she kept the wires inside of Betsy. Ororo and Rogue stepped back to watch Betsy being fucked by the electricity. She screamed insanely as she came from it, her pleasure finally eclipsing how much it hurt.

“YES!” Betsy cried, body bounding up and down, all her abundant curves jiggling with the huge dose of electricity Jean was forcing on her. “Fuck me, you bitch! Fuck me until it kills me, just—I’m coming! YOU’RE MAKING ME COME!”

The pain was so intense that Betsy wasn’t sure if she was climaxing or dying. If she was coming, it was the hardest she’d ever come. If she was dying, that only made sense, because surely this was the most immense sensation a body could experience, something no one could live through. It felt like she’d ceased to exist—that she was only raw, undeniable sensation inside of a helpless body.

Betsy couldn’t control herself; not one part of her body. The electricity had free rein over her. She thrashed and writhed entirely to what it made her feel. Betsy mewled deliriously feeling all it gave her to feel, no longer able to form words, nor needing them to express the ecstasy she experienced. She babbled incoherently of the sensations, tears running down her pretty face to speak more eloquently of what she was feeling than Betsy would for a long time.

Jean pressed the two wires deeper and deeper inside of Betsy’s pussy, which clutched even as the two slender cables gave her inner muscles next to nothing to grip. Betsy’s hips continued to jerk and twist in random motion, sometimes jumping into the air, sometimes hammering into the cracked concrete. She mewled her way through the multiple orgasms she was receiving, pain and pleasure shifting with the currents of electricity running through the folds of her pussy.

Now Betsy thought that she had died and somehow gone to both Heaven and Hell. Every cell in her body screamed with pain, but her cunt screamed louder, with pleasure enough to make her mind cloud over. Thrilling, hateful pleasure burned in her battered breasts, but Betsy didn’t have the coordination to massage them herself, to salve the ache that was spoiling how good her nipples felt, swollen with arousal.

Suddenly Jean pulled the wires away from Betsy’s sex. She fell to the ground, finally motionless, except for a twitch in her arms and legs. Her lips barely parted to release the mumblings she still felt compelled to force out. Then, like a toy with dying batteries, those too ran down. She lay there with barely a vibration in her chest to show her breathing. That ragged motion was all that proved she was alive.

Betsy had no idea what had happened. Although the afterglow, aftershock of her sensations and their immensity still remained, that was so miniscule compared to what she had been feeling that it was like she had gone from being overwhelmed to feeling nothing at all. She tried to lift herself up, not to recover but simply to see what had happened to the sensations that had been ravishing her. Betsy couldn’t move, though. All the strength had left her body, poured into the orgasms she had experienced over and over again.

Jean looked down at the beautiful temptress’s limp body. Her hair was a wild mess. Her skin was all flushed with exertion. Sweat shadowed her fallen body like an aura around it, soaking both the ground below her and everywhere it had been carried by her convulsions. She was still gorgeous, but now she had not a trace of elegance. Betsy looked like a wanton whore, like a sex slave who’d been plunged into the depths of depravity. She’d volunteered herself to be Scott’s bitch, but now she was Jean’s, and Jean had used her to the very furthest extremes. And yet, she wanted to fuck Betsy again. 

Betsy’s hips too began to twitch and roll. Jean smiled, eyebrows raising as she saw fresh juices gathering on the lips of Betsy’s cunt. Betsy’s thighs corded, squeezing together, and the woman let out a low moan.

Jean gave a laugh. “You want more, don’t you?” She nudged Betsy’s pretty face with her boot. “Wasn’t enough for you, was it? Just like looking at my husband wasn’t enough. Your slutty ass wants more. More, more, more. “

Betsy’s lean, tawny body now writhed on the concrete. Her movements weren’t spastic anymore. They were slow, sensual, serpentine, her eyes glowing with needy lust, her proud breasts heaving with desire.

“I want to be fucked,” Betsy breathed, her voice deep and husky, sounding like she was halfway through an orgasm already. She rubbed her cheek against the toe of Jean’s boot, then ran her lips over the supple leather. “I have to come. You’ve got to get me off!”

“Act like a whore,” Jean told her. “Act like a whore who wants us to fuck her. And if you make any of us girls interested, I guess you’ll get fucked.”

Betsy had believed there was no shame left in her, but apparently she’d been proud enough before this harrowing encounter for some of her to still burn with humiliation at how Jean degraded her. She felt like a degenerate slut, a whipped dog, going back to whine at her master every time she was kicked.

But she’d spoken the truth. She had to come and Jean’s ‘suggestion’ was clearly the only way she’d let anyone fuck her. She opened her mouth and took the toe of Jean’s boot between her lips, sucking on it. As she wedged more of it into her mouth, she rolled over onto her back, her head turned to the side, and fucked the air above her, thrusting her cunt up into emptiness while she moaned around Jean’s boot.

“Hmmmm… no,” Jean said, tapping her chin. “I don’t think you’re good enough to be our whore. In fact, I think all you’re good for is being a toilet. How about it, ladies? Anyone need to—go?”

Before Betsy could even contemplate this ultimately debauched fate, a bright flash of light obliterated her reality.

“CUT!” she heard a shrill voice said. “Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut! That’s enough improv—clearly, coppertop’s gone a little too method! Everyone, back to your trailers. Let’s have a short break while I see what our second unit is up to.”