Warning:
This story is for adults only! The story has strong sexual and violent content as well as offensive language. If this is something that you feel uncomfortable with or if not old enough according to
the law, the author would suggest that you read no further.
Disclaimer:
I do not own the X-Men, Avengers, the Fantastic Four nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Feedback is always welcome at superbangjason@yahoo.com
Kitty Pryde, Pawn of Hellfire
Chapter 2
It took a few days to get used to it, but Kitty Pryde’s life at the Hellfire Club was much like the slave collar around her neck; it was only restrictive if she strained against it.
She awoke at six, dressed and had breakfast till seven. Then her lessons began. They were the finest tutors money could buy, computer scientists, mathematicians, and professors from New York’s many universities. She was high-school age, but she knew she was getting a better education than students in master-level courses. And the best part was the program was tailored to her strengths and interests. They would only teach till lunchtime and her brain would have a chance to process all that information.
After lunch it would be physical training, two hours of private ballet lessons and two hours of combat training. Her instructors were the best in their fields, visiting ballerinas from Europe or the director of the Metropolitan Ballet herself. For hand-to-hand Logan was her teacher. He was well versed in military and traditional Japanese forms; aikido, judo, jujitsu, and kenjitsu. The first half-hour was stretching and strength training, the last twenty minutes was cool down and stretching. In between was an hour and ten minutes of pain. Physically she had never been worked so hard. Her body tightened up, all remaining baby fat from her youth disappeared. Within a matter of weeks she was lean, strong and graceful.
Her civilian teachers, trainers and tutors always looked her in the eye, never at the collar.
It was a good thing she worked so hard in the morning and afternoons, the meals they had at the evening were lavish affairs. The food was rich, delicious and plentiful. All the X-Men met at the table for dinner, and Kitty could barely contain herself. She would gush all meal about the lessons she learned and the fantastic time she was having.
After dinner she was free. She could have the limousine take her to wherever she wanted to go. The city was hers. No reservations were necessary. She could walk into any club, any restaurant or Broadway show. She needed no I.D. One quick glance at the collar around her neck was enough to get her anywhere. She was never charged for anything, every person working the bar or till simply asked if it was going on the club account. She had a credit card around her neck which seemed to have no limit.
It only took a few days to accept the collar, but in a few weeks she grew to love it. She would miss it when it was off, not feeling right until she was done bathing and could place it back on.
But after a few months she was tired of shopping, drinking and dancing. It was fun, but even New York had its limits. More often now she found herself staying home at night, watching television, reading or looking for another distraction like a cat on the prowl.
Bored one evening she walked the halls, looking for Ororo. Kitty had seen every play and movie twice over, but perhaps Ororo had not. Maybe she could get some enjoyment out of her company.
Inquiring from the servants she was directed to a library at the rear of the mansion. As Kitty silently pushed open the door she received the shock of her life.
The room was lit by a multitude of candles, each putting off little heat but all together enough to make the room feel like a sweltering fire-hazard. It was shelved, floor-to-ceiling in hardcover books, full collections of undoubtedly original editions. The candlelight cast shadows about the cherry wood walls and floors. The red velvet drapes seemed to soak up the light, keeping it from the night beyond. Back towards a window was Ororo, half-sitting and half-lounging on a marble pedestal. She wore nothing, not a stitch of clothing or a shining jewel on the entirety of her long body. The flickering candlelight danced across her dusky-hued curves, from the tender tips of her toes to the regal stretch of her neck. Her long white hair was tossed over one shoulder. The look on her face was one of seductive happiness, like all was right with the world. On either side of her in the recess were two of the serving girls, maid uniforms on the floor. They wore naught but the slave collars on their necks and the admiring smiles on their faces. One gently fanned Ororo with an ostrich plume fan, the other held a tray of grapes and wine.
Ororo shifted her eyes to the stunned Kitty. “Come in,” she invited, “you’re letting all the delicious heat out.”
Numbly Kitty did as she was told. As the door swung closed she heard a shocked gasp from the other side of the room. With the doorway propped open she had been unable to spot him before, but standing there behind an easel was Peter Rasputin. Little splotches of paint were splattered on his white smock and the red-faced expression on his face was priceless. Of the three mutants in the room, Peter was the one most embarrassed. “Katherine?”
Kitty tried to smile but her face completely failed. Seeing the shame on their expressions, Ororo slid off the pedestal. “Let’s take a little break ladies.” One of the maids brought her a heavy velvet robe and helped the white-haired woman into it. Drawing closed the belt and taking Kitty by the hand she walked over to join Peter. “Let’s see how the painting is coming.”
“Painting?” Kitty questioned as Ororo brought her behind the easel.
Peter was speechless as both women gazed at the work in progress. It was half-finished, an outline of shadows at the bottom. Peter had begun to paint from the top and in the portions that were most complete neither could tell that his work was not one of the Dutch Masters.
“He has magnificent talent, doesn’t he Kitten?”
Kitty found the courage to speak. “He’s painting you.”
“Yes,” Ororo smiled, “the Professor thought new decorations would put our own touch on this old establishment. So he commissioned Peter to do portraits of the Inner Circle, something for future generations to remember us by.”
“But…” Kitty stammered, “…but he’s painting you naked.”
“I… ah…” Peter fidgeted uncomfortably. “I like the light in this room. The books and the shadows make for-”
“I chose the composition, Kitty,” Ororo giggled. “I don’t have this American taboo about nudity. I like my body, growing up in Kenya it was too hot for clothing for most of the year. There it is normal, but here I should obey some senseless cultural prohibition? If we are to be the future we must embrace ourselves fully. I have learned to love who I am, I want to inspire others. So when Peter asked me about the composition of the portrait this was what I envisioned; I wanted to look like Cleopatra on the throne, as royal as she was beautiful. The library symbolizes knowledge, which I feel is the key to justly-wielded power. I think Peter is capturing that well.”
It was a lot to take in, but Kitty understood where Ororo was coming from. Kitty had equated nakedness with vulnerability, but to Ororo it was empowerment. With this picture she challenged a belief that she didn’t agree with. That was admirable in a person and almost a microcosm of what the X-Men were trying to accomplish.
The still embarrassed Peter combed his fingers through his thick black hair nervously. “She is quite a model. When you get your portrait done Katherine, you will get to choose the picture.”
“My portrait?” Kitty said with a hint of disbelief.
“You are part of the Inner Circle now,” Ororo said. “When you are confident you know what you want, tell Peter and you can begin.”
Kitty smirked. This was not something she had ever given any thought to.
One of the maids brought over a tray of drinks. Kitty didn’t even notice the girl was still unclothed. She was lost in the thought of a possibility she could ever pose for an image like that.
“Pardon me for asking,” Peter said as he sipped his vodka, “but why are you here? Shouldn’t you be out on the town tonight?”
Kitty sniffed the liquor and decided to try a sip. “I think I’m bored with New York nightlife. I know I haven’t done everything, but I’ve done enough to know it’s more of the same. The same creeps hang out in the same clubs. I’ve seen the same show three or four times. I go shopping for the same type of crap, and even if it’s new it gets old fast. I think I’m partied out.”
Ororo was pleased. “So you are done having fun?”
Kitty shrugged. “For now at least, my life is so much study and practice that the later I stay out the tougher the next day is. If I stay out all night I’m just hurting myself. Besides, the guys at the club seem to not to want to talk to me when they see the collar. The ones that do only want me to try drugs or rape me in an alley. I’m not that naive.”
“So what would you like to do instead?”
“I came here to learn to use my powers, to help people, to become a superhero. I’d like to learn to do that.”
Ororo clapped excitedly. “You are ready! Jean and the Professor will be so happy.”
“Ready?”
“New York has a million distractions,” Ororo explained, “if we started your real training at day one you would get into trouble. It is only natural. You’d be curious and sneak out. Imagine those disgusting men from the clubs trying to spike your drink and you knew how to use your powers. You’d get in trouble, draw attention. So we couldn’t begin to really train you until you were ready. And now you are!”
Kitty was confused. “So it’s okay to send me out on the town alone, unprepared?”
Ororo dismissed it with a wave. “You were never really alone, Kitten. Every business owner in this city knows who we are and wants our favor. Besides, we took turns tailing you. It was good practice. You were never in any danger. We had to let you off the leash, so to speak.”
Kitty blushed. She had thought she was on her own, that was why she did some of the things she did. It was a little embarrassing in retrospect, but at least she was never in danger.
“I will tell our king and queen in the morning! They will be so happy.” Ororo placed her empty glass on a table. “I am very proud of you, Kitten.”
Peter placed his empty glass next to hers. “I am proud as well. You are very mature for your age.”
Ororo patted her on the shoulder and returned to the other end of the room. “I am positively beaming. Let’s get back to work.” Ororo dropped her robe and took her place on the pedestal. “Peter, try to capture my happiness. Kitty, you can stay and watch if you like. I don’t mind.”
Peter began to paint. Kitty found herself a very comfortable loveseat and nursed the cold vodka in her glass and observed what the others were doing. Peter’s concentration when painting was total. He was stoic as a statue. Ororo was the beaming beauty, but Kitty found herself drawn to the two maids. One was raven-haired, the other blonde. Neither was as buxom as Ororo, but that was a tall order for any woman. Their breasts were smaller, their hips slimmer, but both were as unabashed as Ororo. Their faces were beautiful as they smiled, but there was something in their eyes. The composition required them to look at Ororo with admiration, and they tried, but to Kitty it seemed to come out as fear.
How could anyone be afraid of Ororo? She was the warmest, most caring person Kitty had ever met.
It was a few moments later when she realized Ororo was staring at her. Kitty tried not to stare back, but the entire room was framed to divert all attention to Ororo. She found it nearly impossible. Kitty suddenly seemed very self-conscious. She drank deep of her glass and looked over the rim, to see Ororo’s gaze was still upon her.
Why were her palms sweaty?
Kitty made a hasty goodnight and headed for the door. It suddenly seemed very hot in that room. The vodka felt like butterflies in her stomach. Perhaps she was up too late and nervous about her future.
Kitty headed off to bed. Try as she might, sleep would not come. Every time she closed her eyes the image of Ororo appeared before her.
“Come in,” she heard again,
“You’re letting all the delicious heat out.”Kitty tossed and turned. She turned on the radio, she turned it off. She counted sheep. But for the next few hours every time she closed her eyes the naked phantom of Ororo was there to greet her.
“Come in,” the African goddess said,
“You’re delicious.”“Kitty?”
She opened her eyes. She was on the verge of sleep when the familiar voice awaked her. Rolling over she saw the outline of Ororo in the red glow from her clock radio. Her hair was down, white waterfalls on either side of her face. She had on the same robe from the library, but it looked like a cloak of shadows in the red haze.
“Kitty? You asked me to come in.”
“Mmmhhh…” Kitty was in the dreamy land between sleep and the waking world.
“We’re done painting for the night. I was heading to my room when I passed your door. You asked me to come in. Is everything alright?”
Kitty forced her head up. “It’s nothing Ororo, just a dream.”
“Of home?” Ororo asked, her voice so warm it refused to be rude.
Kitty bit her lip. She didn’t want to tell her what had really kept her awake, but she didn’t want to lie. In the end she felt it was best to agree.
“When I first came here,” Ororo whispered, “I would get homesick in the middle of the night. I had no one to turn to, no friend or companion to empathize with me. I can stay a while if you like?”
Kitty couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what was happening. Something seemed wrong, but felt very right.
Ororo smiled, her white teeth sparkling in the dark. She untied her robe and let it slip off her shoulders. Her body seemed curvier than Kitty remembered. The red light from the clock radio shone on her mocha skin, the dark nipples of her full breasts, and the trimmed patch of white between her legs, the silhouette of her hips in red. She was a red goddess, unabashed and unashamed in the dark.
Before Kitty did not know what to say, now she was speechless.
Gracefully, Ororo swept the sheets aside and slipped under the covers. Kitty could feel the heat of her body through her nightclothes; smell the trace of alcohol on her breath.
“You are not alone, Kitten. Not ever.” She whispered and half of Kitty wanted to retreat, the other half wanted to advance. She was a bundle of confusion.
“What are you doing?” Kitty whispered.
Kitty couldn’t see Ororo’s face, but she could feel her smile. “I saw the way you looked at me, Kitten. I like the way you look at me. You’re so sweet and kind, full of life and wonder. I like you very much. Do you like me?”
Kitty couldn’t hide her apprehension. “I like you a lot, Ororo. But we’re both girls.”
Ororo’s delicate fingers curled the hair out of Kitty’s face and tucked it behind her ear. “So?” Ororo gently kissed her on the lips. She let the taste linger for a moment before she spoke again. “I am a woman, Kitten. I know what I want. You’re a girl, but not for much longer. I like the way you look at me. I want you to touch me. I want to touch you, to make you feel special. Is that so wrong?”
Kitty only had the strength for one last protest. “But we’re friends.”
Ororo kissed her again. “The very best, Kitten.” She took the girls hand and entwined their fingers. “How will this make us any less of friends? I am not asking for a bigger place in your heart, Kitten.” She kissed the back of her hand. “Two friends can do this and still be friends in the morning. Nothing changes. This is desire. This is sex. Love is something else. I love you Kitten, but I am not in love with you. Let me teach you the difference.”
Ororo rolled her over and straddled Kitty, kissing her deeply until all resistance had stopped. Kitty gave in to the undeniable heat between them. She returned the kiss as hard as she got, her sweaty hands finding themselves on the naked skin of the African goddess. Their passions built up, Kitty with all her nervous energy and Ororo with her ensuring embrace.
Ororo sat up, pulling up on Kitty’s nightshirt until it came free. It was already soaked with sweat and she threw it to the floor. Kitty sat up, one hand behind the small of Ororo’s back and the other grasping her breast.
“Yes Kitten,” Ororo sighed. “Let me train you in this. Let me train you in how to love a woman.”
“Like this?” Kitty asked as she drew a chocolate-colored nipple into her mouth with her tongue. She suckled and felt Ororo’s spine go rigid.
“Close,” Ororo whispered as she pulled the girl off her tit with a handful of hair. It popped from her lips audibly. Ororo angled Kitty’s head back, kissed her passionately and forced her down to the bed. She began to kiss and suckle her way down Kitty’s body, starting at the ear, down the neck and over the collar. Unclasping her bra Ororo caressed Kitty’s breasts with kisses, playfully licking and pinching her tender nipples to cause shocks up and down her young friend’s spine.
Kitty groaned, never having felt like this before. “Oh ‘Roro, I never thought my first time would be with another girl!”
Ororo bit the tight muscles of Kitty’s tummy and slid off her panties, “For the last time Kitten, I am no girl. I am a woman, and about to make one out of you!”
Kitty gasped as Ororo delved into her sex, arching her back and curling her toes. She was delirious, never knowing she could feel like that before. Her eyes closed and she groaned aloud, not caring if anyone heard.
Ororo continued, again and again until Kitty begged for her to stop.
Then she continued some more.
