Into Emma's Verse 4 (Patreon)

Even if this Scott Summers was handsome, the kind of man she might entertain herself with simply for her own amusement, he could not come out of nowhere and just buy her.

“Get lost, asshole. I choose my own clients.”

“And that’s exactly what you did.” Crystal turned around to see herself—older but well-aged, wearing only an expensive version of the cloak Crystal currently favored. Not that what Crystal wore was cheap—she’d saved for months to afford it, made an investment of it—but the sable fur she wore was of the ‘if you have to ask, you can’t afford it’ variety. And she managed to make it look far more erotic than the lingerie Crystal wrapped herself in. “You’ve been bought and paid for, Crystal. Believe it. The quicker you do, the quicker you can work on bettering your insults.”

Crystal felt a touch against her psychic defenses and then—she didn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it. But it must be true. Either the older Emma was tampering with her mind or simply sharing a worldview Crystal couldn’t help but agree with, but she was convinced. Crystal was merchandise, here to be sold to the highest bidder. And Scott could pay for her what no one else could.

The love and respect her older self had for this man… Crystal felt compelled to—no, she couldn’t! Not even for herself, with the enticement of all the pleasure Scott Summers had to offer her. She may have whored, but she wasn’t a whore, and that’s what the two of them meant to turn her into: their whore!

Scott tapped the wad of cash she’d picked up. “This is yours,” he said, “and I know you’re going to be worth it. I’ve never paid for a woman before. Wonder if it’s better than what I get for free.”

“You can get fuckedfor free!” Crystal said, looking between him and ‘her older self’ both. “I don’t know what your game is, but I’m nobody’s whore!”

“You’re this man’s whore,” ‘Emma’ said, drawing close to her, waving Scott off far enough that they could speak in privacy. “Look into his mind. I know you can do it. He’s not like the others—not that they’re so bad. I know what all the attention does to you. It’s not the thought of being a whore that bothers you. It’s being their whore.”

Crystal bit her lip, not about to ask how she could know that. The answer might be that she really was Emma Frost—just like Crystal was. And she knew that Crystal wasn’t such a good girl, no matter how much white she wore.

She didn’t really dislike the things men did to whores. It was just heat and friction and touch, all things she enjoyed. But she hated the idea of being thought of as a whore. Something low, dirty, disposable. Even when she danced for these people, Emma presented herself as—she was—immaculate. As rare and as precious as a human life could be.

But looking into Scott’s mind, she could see how he treasured her. Respected her. Worshiped her. It actually went against his grain to treat her as a whore—the man was an incurable romantic—but he did it because he knew how the experience enthralled her.

No wonder she had… would… fall for him. He had no issue perceiving her as a bitch goddess, an object of lust and a transcendent femininity, all at once. He would treat her like a slut to give his love what satisfied her.

“You’re really his whore,” she whispered, not sure if she was talking to Emma or to herself.

Emma gave an eloquent shrug. “Any other man, I could make my slave. But would you want to be the master of anyone out there? Or do you want to belong to the man in here? Be his cock-holster.”

Crystal shuddered at the shockingly unrefined word. Emma grinned at her reaction and Crystal felt herself mewling—that kind of smile was what she would give to some lucky man, promising him all the treasures of his body in return for mind, body, and soul. It was a rare few she found worth the bargain.

“She’ll do whatever you want now,” Emma said softly, speaking now to Scott. Crystal was still too proud to back down from her earlier resistance. But she allowed Emma to speak for her. The older woman seeming both broken in and freed by what she’d already done for Scott…

“I think you mean whatever you want,” Scott corrected her.

Emma quirked her lips. “I’m changeable.”

Taking the cash from Crystal for safekeeping, Emma walked to the side of the room, neatly sitting down to watch the show. A connoisseur, but underneath she had the same raucous lust as anyone at Crystal’s performances. She knew the lust she elicited—even in herself.

Crystal focused her attention on Scott, allowing herself to appreciate his handsome face and muscular physique—even the audacious boldness of him intruding on her so confidently turned her on in a strange way. She wanted to be worshiped by a daring man, a man brave enough to weather her scorn.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes flittered over to Emma. “And remember, I’m not an old lady. It takes a lot to satisfy me.”

“Good,” Scott chuckled, sitting down. “I’ll get my money’s worth then. I want you to dance for me, Crystal. But not like outside. I don’t just want to see how you move. I want to see you.”

There was no music, but that hardly mattered. Her heartbeat was racing enough to give her all the backing she needed.

Crystal swayed, running her hands over her bared body, flaunting herself to Scott almost threateningly. Challenging him to be able to handle her voluptuous curves, her sculpted body with all the lust secreted inside.

She’d gotten a charge out of teasing and taunting her audience. She felt powerful. If she were alone, she’d be fucking herself right now, giving her body an orgasm from the only lover skilled enough to properly handle it. She’d like to see Scott use her body anywhere near as thoroughly as she did. He couldn’t be man enough for her—she’d just gotten off a whole room of people.

Well, he hadn’t come in his pants yet, at least. He just watched, his sunglasses the zenith of his stoic cool as she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. She held it up for a few seconds before she slowly let it fall away from her abundant breasts.

“Now you’re acting nice,” Scott observed neutrally. His composure irritated her. Crystal was used to a much more lascivious reaction. This didn’t feel like the rush she got from holding an audience in the palm of her hand. She felt much more driven and much less confident.

“I’m surprised she shows them off so readily,” Emma said. “Plastic surgery’s gotten far better in my day…”

Crystal kept swaying as she slid off her panties. Scott stared, long and hard, at the diamond shape shaved into her pubic thatch. He knew it wasn’t to be shown to just anyone. It was just for her. And now, it was his too.

“Keep your heels on,” he said. “You’re not going naked. You’re going nude.”

Crystal could only nod. She recognized the difference. There was nothing natural about her appearance. She was not some innocent human animal going about her carefree life. She wore her white heels and her white cape to display herself. She was a whore showing off her wares…

Scott watched her so intently, with such calm control, that it came as a shock to Crystal when she heard the sound of his zipper and looked at him to see his big cock out of his trousers, held tightly in his hand. He stroked it, coolly, calmly, while his eyes stayed on her.

“Keep dancing,” he told her. “I’m not the one on display.”

She liked being incensed, liked the tinge of disrespect as he beat his own prick rather than claiming her. It was like he was challenging her in turn. Tempting her as much as she tempted him.

“You can come over here anytime you like,” he said.

She went to him and he put his hands on her breasts. She felt it deeply, much as she tried not to let herself. But excitement already roved out from his touch, shivering at the back of her neck, giving her a thrill she couldn’t control. Crystal was enjoying herself, but not in a way she’d ever enjoyed herself before. Enjoying what he was doing to her, not what she’d made him do.

“You feel good,” Scott said simply, his voice drawn with excitement, but tightly controlled. She’d given him her tits and still hadn’t broken his resolve.

He moved his hands down her belly. Crystal had to open her legs, and when she did, she felt one hand on her slit. His fingers fluttered into her labia. She trilled. He didn’t just touch her knowingly—he touched her like she belonged to him.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” Emma cooed from her vantage point. “Don’t you like having his fingers in your cunt?”

“Yes,” Crystal confessed. “I like it…”

Scott pushed another finger into her. She still liked it; she liked it more. His fingers moved around the inside of her pussy and she loved that. Crystal was wet and weak all over, not at all the indomitable goddess she usually was in the bedroom—she had to touch his mind for reassurance. When she did, she felt the warm glow of how he enjoyed making her feel this way. She was getting off on this… God, he knew how much she was getting off!

“Sit on his cock, honey,” Emma told her. “Enjoy that hard goddamn dick!”

Crystal obeyed: treating herself like a whore, enjoying being a whore. She sat in Scott’s lap and his prick easily fit into her snug pussy like it had been made to fill her.

“Good girl,” Scott breathed. She loved that most of all—pleasing him and being pleased, having him and being his… “Hold still a second. Let me feel that hot cunt around me…”

Crystal held still. It was hard. She was so excited, exhilarated, full of passion and unable to control any of the feelings ricocheting through her body. There was something so magnificent about this man’s prick. As she roiled around him, she knew she was moving him closer and closer to coming for her.

“Now take that cock for a ride,” Scott told her, his rudeness thrilling Crystal.

She bounced up and down, feeling his big hands under her cape, stroking her back and her rolling buttocks. Scott leaned in to mouth one of her engorged nipples. It was big and sensitive; she felt every little facet of the sensations he gave her. Closing his teeth around it. Sucking on it. Using his tongue on it.

Crystal threw her head back, eyes up in her skull, fucking herself on his cock like she was desperate for him to come. She wasn’t. She wanted this to last forever.

“That’s it, you little whore,” Scott groaned. “Do your job! Earn your money!”

Crystal was a whore. She was that as much as she was his dream woman. It made her wet, tight, his cock sliding into her easily with the enthusiasm she put into pumping up and down on it, even as her folds tightened and convulsed like mad. Ripples of pleasure pulsed up from where her splayed buttocks landed like slaps on his thighs. She felt Scott thrust up from the chair, pushing deeper inside of her. She wasn’t taking him. He was owning her.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he grunted. “Get it, get that big cock. I paid for a whore that can take all my prick. I don’t care if I split you in half—you’re getting all of it.”