X-Men: Gesture of Goodwill (Patreon)

Ororo’s mind was a tropical jungle, every bit as beautiful as Jean would’ve expected. The colorful birds sang for her. Flowers bloomed in her presence. The wind rustled the tree branches, stooping them down to offer her their fruit.

If it weren’t for the fact that Jean was there to save Ororo from a mental virus, the occasion would’ve been pleasant—a nice break from more grueling missions. But at the moment, Jean was too concerned for the comatose state Ororo was in in the real world to enjoy herself.

And Emma wasn’t enjoying herself either, even if she wasn’t too concerned for Storm. The solid ground Jean had walked on became torrid mud under her feet, sucking her down up to her ankles and making every step a strain. Luckily, Emma was wearing her usual knee-high boots. Not that those helped with her subjective experience of the temperature. It was balmy to Jean, but Emma was sweating like a whore in church, her normally pale skin flushed and dripping.

“Would someone please tell the owner of this damn hellscape that I am here to help her!?” Emma insisted. “Out of my own benevolent team spirit—I’m not getting so much as a Tommy Hilfiger shirt out of this!”

Jean reached back to take Emma’s hand and help her along. “You can’t blame Ororo’s subconscious for being hostile to you. You did once steal her body.”

“Most people would take that as a compliment. You think I would trade bodies with just anyone?” Emma sniffed. “Well? She’s your friend! Tell her I come in peace!”

Jean looked out at the world of Ororo’s mind, unfocusing her eyes, decoupling herself from the subjective perception, and addressing herself to the pure mentality of Storm all around. “Emma’s right, Ororo. She’s here to help me save you. You have to stop fighting her.”

Emma took another step, her booted foot sucking its way out of the mudpatch. When she set her foot down again, she sunk up to her waist. “It’s not working! This is even worse!”

“She thinks you’re ordering me about—that I’m under your sway. We need to show her you’re not a threat.”

“And how would you intend we do that?” Emma demanded.

The next thing she knew, Jean fastened a dog collar around her lovely neck. When Jean stepped back, a chain led from her hand to Emma’s collar.

“You really should save these games for Scott, dear,” Emma said evenly, but flashing a deadly grin. “You know how he’d hate to miss out.”

“It’s to show Ororo that you’re a friend—that you’re willing to accept my authority. Once she sees how you’re willing to submit to me, then she’ll extend her trust of me to you.”

“But I’m not willing to submit to you,” Emma drawled in a low voice.

The world shook around them, birds taking flight from the canopy. Emma gulped.

“I suggest you lower your inhibitions with your usual… alacrity,” Jean cooed laconically.

Emma snarled at her. “It is not a question of inhibitions, it is a matter of taste… very well, Jean. For the good of the team, since my beloved Scott is so fond of you people. But you owe me!”

She tried to take another step, but the mud was too thick, sucking her down too hard, for her to make any headway.

“Down on your hands and knees, doggy!” Jean ordered. “If I’m going to owe you, I want my money’s worth!”

Emma obeyed begrudgingly. She knelt down, looking up at Jean with fire in her eyes.

“Crawl!” Jean commanded her.

Emma walked on all fours, following where Jean led her with the leash. Jean watched her body move and jiggle—Emma’s costume left little to the imagination, as per usual, and Jean enjoyed the sight of her buttocks rubbing together, her pubic mound outlined by the skintight shorts she ‘wore’. A part of her wanted to get down there and eat Emma’s pussy. That wouldn’t do; it would hardly be very dominant. Instead, she gave Emma a slap on the ass.

“Oww! Don’t you think you’re taking this a little far?”

“Shut up, bitch,” Jean warned her. “At least you’re crawling on solid ground now.”

Emma was forced to concede the point. Then Jean reached down, slid her hand under the back of Emma’s shorts, and pushed her middle finger into Emma’s asshole.

“NNH! Jean, what the fuck?” Emma barked.

“Just showing Ororo there’s nothing I can’t do to my good little slave girl,” Jean said calmly. She crooked her penetrating finger. “Up on your feet and stand up straight, Emma. Let’s show Storm that you can do as you’re told.”

Biting her lip, Emma got to her feet and stood at poised attention. Jean’s finger led the way. It gave her the incentive to do as ordered and she obeyed it.

“Good girl,” Jean told her. “Now cross your hands behind your back.”

Again, Emma did as she was told. Jean circled in front of her. She ripped Emma’s top off and dropped it to the ground. Emma’s bare breasts were plump and round, catching Jean’s eyes as they heaved in front of Emma. She wondered if Emma was deliberately trying to catch her eyes or simply breathing hard for the usual reason Emma breathed hard. Either way, now she was enjoying herself.

Jean slapped Emma’s left breast with the flat of her hand. Emma pressed her lips together. She slapped the other one. Despite Emma’s stoic efforts, discomforted moans trailed out of her shut mouth.

“What’s the matter, Emma? Not as good at taking it as you are dishing it out?”

“You should find out how good I am at dishing it out some day,” Emma hissed back.

Grinning imperiously, Jean slapped both breasts in turn, leaving them reddened, trembling with Emma’s harsh breath, and with the nipples engorged. Jean pinched and pulled at the stiff buds, working on both the right and left according to a frenzied rhythm that left Emma totally unprepared for what she’d feel next.

“Ohhhhh… stop it, Jean… that hurts!” Emma wailed.

“And we were doing so well,” Jean drawled. “Ororo has to see what I do to backtalk like yours…”

Jean twisted Emma’s nipples like dials, turning them to what seemed like their limit, then starting in on a new rhythm. Relaxing the turn a little, letting Emma’s nipples return to normal a few degrees, then twisting them more. Laying off one nipple, only to torture the other one more. Emma was reduced to a mewling wreck in no time at all, and not just in pain.

“Owww! Jesus, Jean, it hurts so bad! Stop already, please!”

But Jean didn’t have to be a psychic to see that deep down, Emma didn’t want her to stop. She would have hated if Jean stopped. Emma was bratty and would cry out, but for all her complaints, she was submitting. Anyone who thought this was the most Emma could protest against something she truly didn’t want, did not know Emma at all.

Jean twisted Emma’s punished nipples to the limit, one last time, then let them go. As relief flooded into Emma, Jean grabbed her hard by the cunt. Emma yelped, then whimpered when Jean ripped away her shorts. Now she was totally naked, aside from her choker and boots. And without those, she would’ve looked more than nude—she would’ve seemed absolutely freakish.

Emma gritted her teeth. It wasn’t that she cared what Jean did to a clothes item that was only a mental projection, but she did have a distaste for losing the effect of her well-put-together ensemble.

“I felt how hot your cunt was, bitch,” Jean said, pushing her down to her knees and Emma went willingly. “I can see I’m not the only one who got worked up by your little punishment. But I am the only one who matters. So, are you going to be a good girl and lick my cunt clean after you got it all wet?”

Emma nodded, tears in her eyes, but before she could even open her mouth, she heard feet padding across the ground. Jean wasn’t moving and Emma certainly wasn’t going anywhere. Which only left one possibility.

Through her tear-filled eyes, Emma turned to see Ororo approaching. She was totally naked but for the white hair that streamed down from her crowned head. Her bare flesh was a sight to behold. Even Emma was captivated by it, couldn’t take her eyes off it. She stared at the white-tufted cunt where brown flesh so intoxicatingly melted with pink. She watched the voluptuous breasts jiggle as Ororo moved close to her. Then Ororo turned to Jean, giving Emma a wonderful look at her full-cheeked ass.

“It’s good that she finally knows her place,” Ororo said. “But before she’s welcome here, she must make amends to me personally.”

Emma gulped. “I’m… I’m very sorry for…”

“Not for the Hellfire Club,” Ororo interrupted. “That was a long time ago.”

She suddenly stood before Emma, her hands on Emma’s head.

“Make up for how wet you made my pussy,” Ororo told her. “And I’ll forgive you by coming all over your face.”