Best Frenemies

Summary: Games.

Noon.

Emma was as good as her word. The children tripped into the school’s caravan of minivans and SUVs for a day-long trip to the mall and cinema. No one argued or questioned it. She watched with baited breath for the last car to disappear down the front drive. She waved cheerfully from the porch.

Behind her, the front door creaked open.

“Are you ready?” Her stomach dipped and Emma shivered with excitement.

“Yes.”

When she turned to confront the voice, Ororo was already gone. The door was still slightly ajar; Emma let herself in and locked it securely behind her.

There was no turning back.

She returned to her suite and started making preparations. She heard Ororo’s light footsteps overhead, moving around her loft. Emma caught sight of her reflection and noticed that she was flushed, color blooming in her fair skin.

She stripped down and stepped into the shower, running it at a comfortable, warm temperature to loosen her muscles. She scrubbed herself thoroughly with a soft loofah sponge and herbal-scented shower foam. Her heart raced and her imagination ran wild in anticipation.

She toweled herself and blow-dried her hair, brushing it until it shone. She parted it, then plaited it into two long pigtails, tying the ends with pink ribbons.

She rubbed lotion into her skin, leaving it silky smooth. Her body was free from blemishes. Her nipples were hard from a slight draft and the cool air as it hit her shower-warmed skin. She didn’t mind.

She stepped into her costume, adjusting it and smoothing it into place. It was tight, almost to the point of being uncomfortable, but it was worth it. Her own appearance aroused her.

She arranged the toys in an array around the room, setting some on the vanity, a few on the bedside table, laying some of them on the floor across a thick white sherpa rug. She stroked the riding crop lovingly. Would Ororo use it first?

She didn’t leave her waiting.

The door swung open behind her, letting in the faint breeze from the hallway, without the benefit of a warning knock. Emma’s breath caught.

She turned. Faced her.

“Hi.”

“Hullo.” She came inside as if she owned the room, again graceful as a cat. Her heels thumped over the hardwood floor boards. “Music?” she asked.

Emma’s mouth was dry. “Y-yes. S-sure.” She was mesmerized by Ororo’s eyes, lined in black eyeliner and thick mascara. She’d come prepared to play the part.

Bravo, Emma thought, licking her lips.

“This one,” Ororo announced, holding up a disc. She approached Emma and handed it to her. “Be careful with it. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Whatever you want.” It was the first of many times Emma would utter those words, and she knew it. Ororo’s eyes followed her around the room. Measuring her.

Emma inserted the disc. She tried to hide her fingers shaking over the buttons. But when she spoke again, she was coy.

“How does it fit? I had to guess at your size.”

“What do you think?” Ororo said dryly. “I didn’t come here for girl talk and a pajama party. Let’s get on with it.”

“Relax,” Emma assured her. “We have all the time in the world.” Neither one of them made any move to close the door. The feeling that anyone could walk in on them appealed to Emma, even if the house was empty.

Ororo’s stare was almost disconcerting. Emma reflexively touched one of her braids, long enough to hang over her breasts. Ororo’s tourmaline blue eyes raked over her from head to toe. Whether she liked what she saw indiscernible. She licked her lips and exhaled a short breath.

“It’s stuffy in here,” she complained.

“You can control that, can’t you?”

“Let’s do this the old-fashioned way and open the window.”

“Oh. All right.” Emma crossed the room, turning her back on Ororo to give her a good look. She undid the latch and slid open the pane. The breath of fresh air did calm her slightly, but her pulse was still quick and sharp.

“Are you ready, Emma?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Emma turned to face her, questions in her eyes.

“Yes, I’m ready…”

“No,” Ororo tsked, sauntering forward on mercilessly high heels that clicked over the hardwood floors. “Who am I, Emma?”

Emma’s mind raced as she saw the faint flare of Ororo’s nostrils. Her voice held a hint of annoyance. Emma smelled Ororo’s perfume, a heady mixture of ginger and sandalwood that suited her body chemistry and caught her attention.

This wasn’t the gentle Wind-Rider. This wasn’t even the righteous goddess or benevolent queen.

Emma was pinned immobile by words hissed through blood-red lips. “I’m ready for you, Mistress. Say it.”

“Yes, Mistress, I’m ready for you,” she replied. Her reply was too confident.

The riding crop’s leather tassels rose and lightly caressed the corner of Emma’s mouth. Her wish had been granted; Ororo had chosen that one first.

The crop’s tassels traced the contours of her body wherever her skin was bared, pausing over her flat belly. Ororo flicked it and gave her a gentle slap. “Are you?”

“Yes-“

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you’re lying, Emma. I don’t like lying whores.”

That crop descended, sliding over the tiny scrap of white mesh and leather, no protection at all for the vulnerable property between Emma’s legs. The leather tassels rubbed it provocatively and none too gently this time.

“Spread them. Wider,” Ororo snapped. Emma leaned back against the sill and did as she was told.

“Look at you. You’re so easy. You’d do anything for it, wouldn’t you, whore?”

“Yes, Mistress!” Sensation rushed between her thighs, flushing her center with heat and tingles. Ororo dragged the crop in long, hard strokes against her, from her sensitive clit to the crease of her ass. “Anything,” she promised. Ororo’s voice was flinty but still so regal, so deep…this was the real Ororo, hidden beneath the serene façade.

The verbal assault heightened it, satisfying her. She wanted none of Ororo’s usual civility, when it was a lie. There was freedom in letting her give voice to it, the rage. The resentment, and indignance.

“I’ll be your whore, Mistress.”

“I’ll tell you what to be!” She smacked her squarely in the cheek with the crop. Emma’s eyes stung. She made a tiny cry of protest.

“Fine,” Ororo sneered. “Obviously I need to teach you a lesson. I don’t think you’ll like it very well.” She ringed Emma’s arm in her fist and jerked her away from the window. Emma stumbled in the high-heeled vinyl boots and she fell forward onto the bed, unable to catch herself. She landed face-first in the silk duvet. The bed was dressed differently from the room’s usual décor. All of Scott’s belongings were put away, including framed photographs, as though Emma couldn’t bear the sight of any trace of him during her tryst. She wanted no distractions.

Ororo was strong, undoubtedly from constant sparring sessions with Logan and from clean living. She grasped her wrist and pinned it behind Emma’s lower back. Emma mewed in pain. Above her, Ororo chuckled.

“Did that hurt? It’ll only be worse if you don’t behave, darling,” she purred.

Different emotions warred in Ororo’s mind. Emma’s skin felt supple and soft in her grip, creamy and fair, and her fingers left rosy marks from her firm hold. She suppressed guilt and concern as it began to well up in her belly.

Emma’s appearance was a contradiction, as well. Her hair…it begged to be twisted around Ororo’s fist and pulled. Emma’s minx’s eyes stared out from a porcelain mask. Her lips were glossed in bubble gum pink. Her lashes were curled, shining with black lacquer and enhanced with falsies. The girlish hairstyle looked ridiculous paired with the white mesh and leather corset, wanton married to wholesome. If Ororo was amused, Emma meant for her to be.

Ororo gave in to temptation and tugged both of those braids back from her face. Emma’s back arched with the pressure. Her face twisted in pain and pleasure. She felt something cool and metallic, wrapped in soft fur slide around her wrist and fasten into place.

“Naughty girl. Who said you were allowed to play with these? You’re a bad girl, Emma.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Mommy punishes bad girls.” Mommy. Ororo was warming to her role. The pet name brought forth an image of Ororo with Kitty; the girl bore such a filial adoration for her that could be interpreted to be so much more.

Had it been? Did Ororo pet the Kitten?

Ororo, undressing Kitty. Slowly. Kitty shivering nervously, fear mingling with want…Ororo caressing one of those fair, small breasts, her darker skin forming a stark contrast…

Emma moaned. Ororo frowned.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Mistress.”

“It sounded like you’re enjoying yourself too much.” Ororo circled Emma and climbed onto the bed, pulling her across the mattress. Her body slid over the cool silk. She fastened the handcuff around the post of the headboard.

“I had those custom-made.”

“Oh? And why does that matter to me?”

“They’re adamantium,” Emma breathed as Ororo hooked and fastened the other one, too. Emma’s breasts were hoisted up for Ororo’s inspection at this vantage point. Ororo dutifully propped a pillow behind her head. She reached out and gave her nipple a savage tweak. “I can’t break free of them, even in my diamond form.”

“You said you were going to trust me,” Ororo said quietly.

“I don’t trust myself,” Emma informed her.

“That makes two of us.”

“I don’t want the advantage,” Emma swore. “I don’t want to escape until you let me go.” Ororo was contemplative. She laid her palm over Emma’s belly and caressed her like a cat. Emma strained into her touch, hips bucking slightly in response.

If they were two different women, she would crave this kind of tenderness, but it wasn’t in the cards or on the menu.

“Don’t test my patience,” she suggested, removing her addictive touch and rising from the bed. She stared at all of the toys, impressed with the assortment. “This is how you use the school’s expense card?”

“Don’t be ridiculous-“

“What’s that?”

“I mean…no, Mistress.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Emma’s shoulders felt the slight burn of being suspended, but she watched Ororo move about the room with interest. She picked up a small, gleaming object with a flared end. “What on earth…?”

“Plug,” Emma supplied.

“Oh. Oh.” Ororo wanted to drop it but fascination made her turn it this way and that, stroking its shiny finish. She set it aside and ran the crop’s tassels through her fingers.

Ororo stalked the bed and ran it teasingly over Emma’s crotch again, giving it a small slap. “You look like a slut.”

It was ridiculous; Ororo was wearing a twin to Emma’s costume, except it was a stark scarlet. Her fall of thick white waves was skinned back in a high ponytail with a lick of long bangs falling over her eye.

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“You made a poor choice of clothing. I’d expect that of you. The White Queen…don’t make me vomit,” she jeered. She flicked Emma’s nipple with the crop before leaning down and slowly raking her long nails down her body. Emma bit her lip on a moan.

She reached the waistband of the tiny panties, barely covering her pubis. She toyed with the tiny, circular zipper pull. “Easy girls wear these. Easy bitch.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I won’t tolerate this trash. Take it off!”

“Mistress!”

“Take it OFF!” THWACK! Down came the crop full-force, the first blunt strike of the night. It whistled down against Emma’s crotch and stung her tender inner thigh.

“AH!”

“NOW!” THWACK! “Do you hear me, whore?”

“I…can’t!” Emma cried. “I can’t reach it!”

“Must I do everything?” Ororo muttered in disgust. “That’s for wearing it in the first place…” THWACK! “…and this is for making me get my hands dirty.” The pink beginnings of welts bloomed on her skin. Emma’s pelvic muscles squeezed.

ZIIIIIIIPPP… She tugged it open, manhandling her in the process as she discovered that the zipper went all the way back. The separated flaps of leather fell aside, revealing her sex. Fawn brown curls covered her lips; the tiny pink rosebud of her clit was moist and erect. The darker color disclosed what Ororo had already guessed. She sighed.

“Emma, Emma, Emma…” she tsked. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Whatever you want,” Emma whispered as Ororo combed her fingers through the mat of soft curls. Ruthlessly she pulled a few strands to their full length, making it sting.

“This has to go.” Emma’s stomach flipped.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I need something to take it off with.”

“Bathroom. Top drawer.” She listened to Ororo clicking across the floor and rummaging in the vanity, slamming the drawer when she found what she was looking for. She brought out Scott’s electric razor and a small Bic. “Don’t you have any cream?”

“Dresser drawer.” Another item from her stash. “You’ll like it.”

“I’d better.” Her face threatened punishment. She fished out a pink bottle. Strawberry flavored. Ororo gathered up her tools and laid them on the bedside table. She retrieved a small bowl from Emma’s dress and filled it with water cold enough to be brisk.

“First things first,” she said cheerfully. The shaver thrummed to life in her hand. She hummed to herself in time with the music pumping from the speakers as she worked. Emma flinched at the blades’ first contact with her skin. “Hold still!” Ororo snapped.

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“I’m going to be here for a while. How did you let this get so messy?”

“I had no one to share it with,” Emma pouted.

“Scott would be disgusted to see what you left for him.” The razor made one buzzing pass after another through the bramble of hair. It fell away in bits and pieces, revealing more of the shape of Emma’s little mound. Emma’s soft, fair skin began to peek through the coarse, spiky remains of the hair. Ororo continued combing her fingernails through it. It stimulated her, this rough examination of her goodies. She slapped Emma’s thigh to make her spread them further apart. The lips of her sex were already slick and rosy. The razor vibrated through her as Ororo shaved these, too, painstakingly, so as not to nick her. She dipped her fingertip inside and pinched the fold of one lip to hold it taut while she buzzed it bare.

“Much nicer. I still wouldn’t feed it to a dog, but we’ll make this work, somehow.” She finished – mercifully – and blew a puff of breath over it to dislodge the stray hairs. Emma was put out that there was hair all over her spread, but it was worth it.

Ororo moved on.

She squirted a generous amount of dark pink goo into her palm that began to expand and foam. She made a face, then sniffed it in approval.

“It’s edible.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Still, Ororo filed it away for future reference. The feel of cold gel startled Emma, stealing her breath. Ororo massaged it into the last of the stubble until it was sticky and plastered to her skin. She rubbed a bit of it into her clit, pressing hard. Emma bit her lip against the sharp discomfort while her womb pitched in defiance. Yes. Make it hurt. I deserve it.

Out came the Bic. Ororo held her skin taut with sticky fingers and skimmed it over the slope of Emma’s pussy, whisking off the hair in long, neat strokes. She paid attention to the crease between crotch and thigh. She reached down and thrust Emma’s ass up slightly to give herself a better view.

“Not high enough.”

“Here, let me-“

“Hold still, I’ll do it!” she complained. With that, Ororo jerked Emma’s ankles sky-high and spread them in a wide V. Emma’s breasts bobbled with the change in position. She tucked Emma’s ankle over her shoulder and leaned against her other thigh, splaying it back until her knee was shoved against her chest. “There. And…there,” she hissed, swiping at the remaining hair. Emma’s lips were swollen and pulsing from the friction of the blades. Moments later, they were still sticky but enticingly bare. The cool breeze blowing inside stimulated her skin.

It was a sweet, tempting pussy, untouched by childbirth, still perfectly firm and ripe. It was perhaps Emma’s best kept secret, given that no other part of her body was a mystery, courtesy of her uniforms. Ororo swished the blade in the bowl of water, tucked a towel beneath Emma’s ass, and dribbled cold water over her bare crotch. Emma emitted a low scream.

It was bracing. Ororo grinned and did it again, splaying open her lips and revealing the dark pink meat inside. The water sluiced over it, washing away the last of the pink foam. Ororo abraded it with the towel, drying her with little regard. She chucked the towel into the hamper.

“All clean,” she sang, as chipper as Julie Andrews. “Now for the finishing touches.”

“What do you mean, Mistress?”

“I can’t let all of my hard work go to waste, for it to just grow back tomorrow.” Ororo began rooting through Emma’s things again and retreated from the room.

“Wait! Don’t leave me!”

“Patience.” She climbed the stairs, heedless of the burn and cramp of Emma’s arms.

Emma watched with true fear as Ororo returned, brandishing a pot of wax and small mesh strips.

“We’re going to do this right.”

“No…no, please…”

“Naughty Emma,” Ororo pouted, prodding her with the crop. “You know what happens to bad girls who talk back.” She set down the crop and selected another toy sitting beside the lamp. A pair of stainless steel nipple clamps decorated with rhinestones gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. Ororo squeezed them open experimentally like vicious hand puppets.

“No…oh, no, please don’t…”

“Please what? Please punish you?”

“Ororo!”

“Who? Ororo’s not here.”

“Mistress…I mean Mommy…please don’t punish me!”

“I had to warn you,” Ororo tutted. “This will hurt me more than it hurts you…” The chain was looped around Emma’s neck; Ororo batted her ponytails out of the way as she adjusted the length, tightening it slightly.

“Mommy, no!’

“Shhhhh…” Ororo hushed in Emma’s ear. Her breath steamed her neck as she spoke. “Shhhhhhhhhhhh…” Emma trembled, adrenaline flowing in anticipation of the pain. Her nipples were tight pink pearls. Ororo wanted to own them, to dominate them. “If you behave, you won’t have to be punished,” she promised. The clamp lay above her breast, metallic and cold. Emma bit her lip to still its trembling.

She was aroused, and petrified.

Ororo drew back and took up the wax, which she’d already heated in the tiny microwave in her loft. She stirred it with the tiny spatula and lifted it, dripping, toward Emma’s crotch. She spread it generously, scraping it into a neat layer. The shock of warmth was an erotic contrast to the cold water.

“On the count of three,” Ororo crooned as she patted a strip in place, smoothing it. Emma moaned at the stroke of her fingers. It felt so decadent.

“Three…”

RRRRRIIIP!

Emma’s scream reverberated off the walls, easily heard from outside.

“Hm,” Ororo sniffed. “Well, that looks nice! Let’s try that again, there’s a rough patch over here.” More patting. More stroking. RIP! Emma shook and writhed. Her skin was on fire and tingling. Ororo was amused by the sight of her tender little pussy jumping as she bucked.

She used up strip after strip, blowing on it to soothe her. Ororo loved the rush of controlling Emma’s pain.

And her pleasure. She tugged Emma’s lips apart, framing them with her fingers and gave it a thorough inspection. Not a hair in sight. But she was sopping wet.

She bent forward and tasted her. Emma’s breath itched. Ororo’s tongue was velvety as it washed her clit. She took her mouth away too soon, after only a few darting strokes.

“Nnggh! Mistress! Please…”

“Please, what?”

“More. Oh, God, more. I need it.”

“I’m not convinced. And I don’t like lies.” Ororo was resigned.

The sight of Emma helpless was turning her on. Wetness already made her own pair of leather briefs feel hot and tight.

“Lying makes me upset,” Ororo declared as she fiddled with the tiny chain, it so it formed a delicate harness. She groped Emma’s right breast, so full and smooth and supple, the best money could buy, tempting her to suckle it. She defeated the urge and opened the clamp. “If you’re going to do the crime, then you’ll do the time, sweetling.”

“Oh, no. Please…” Emma was growing euphoric with fear. Cold sweat broke out over her skin.

Emma plunged into pain. Ororo snapped the tiny clip around Emma’s stiff, plump pink nipple and her captive emitted a hoarse scream, long and ululating. Emma bit her lip and clenched her eyes shut, hissing and whimpering through the burning, stabbing agony.

It was a rush.

Ororo clamped the other nipple; it hurt just as maddeningly, just as keenly. Ororo tightened the chain until Emma’s breasts lifted and slung farther back, hoisted almost to her chin. They were an erotic sight, framed by the leather straps of her cupless bra. Emma jerked and gasped.

Her pain receptors sent mad signals throughout her body. Endorphins flooded to the source of her pain. Each adjustment Ororo made to the clamps made Emma forget the initial pain, making her wish for it as she upgraded her agony.

Yet her vaginal muscles clenched tightly, frequently, in regular contractions.

“Mommy…please…”

“Please what, little whore?”

“M-more,” she rasped. “I’ve been bad. So bad, Mommy. Punish. Me.”

Ororo’s pupils dilated. Her face held hunger and greedy possession. She stroked Emma’s abdomen where it was exposed by her bustier. Emma trembled at the caress.

“Greedy,” Ororo accused. She stood and perused the other selections, each one intriguing and tempting her. She ran her fingers over each one, making Emma envy objects. A jar of cream was uncapped and sniffed, fingers dragging through its creamy contents.

“Let’s try some of this on those nipples, Emma, what do you think?”

She smeared the pinkish goo on them, and it promptly warmed. The sensation was heightened by the clamps, but it made them slippery. Ororo had to remove one and replace it. Tears flooded from Emma’s eyes, smearing her mascara, but her mouth dropped open in pleasure.

“That’s a pleasant surprise, a product that does what it claims? Hm. ‘Enhances nipple sensitivity and erectness!’ Fancy that.” She gave Emma’s knees a light slap to make her spread them again. Emma’s thighs spasmed from a muscle cramp. Ororo dipped her fingers into the cream, this time coating their length to her second knuckles. She entered Emma in one deep thrust, twisting her hand in corkscrew motions.

“You’re all neat on the outside, but sloppy on the inside. This may fix that.”

Ororo felt a shift in tightness as Emma squeezed her fingers. Her pussy tissue sucked at her wetly; she had a good grip on her hand. Emma lifted her hips in time to Ororo’s thrusts. The chain links clinked slightly around Emma’s neck and over her ribs.

“You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Bad girl,” Ororo tsked, crooking and twisting her fingers, thrusting harder. She was ruthless, probing the vulnerable G-spot inside and overwhelming Emma with sensation. She was getting closer to her fulfillment, but she didn’t want this afternoon to stop.

Everything had to be purged. No more visions of Scott making love to Jean within his mind, when he was with her. No more hang-ups of whether she was good enough…not physically, no; good enough, moral enough for him.

Ororo shared her focus. Of course she’d always longed to punish Emma and hold her at her mercy. Oh, the irony!

“Shame on you, making me dirty my hands.” She withdrew it quickly, making Emma moan in complaint. She lifted her fingers to her lips and took an experimental taste. Emma’s musky juices mingled with the fruity flavor of the cream. Ororo wiped the rest of the stickiness on her hand off using Emma’s belly. “Someone needs a spanking…”

Emma’s heart leapt in her chest. No! Then, Yes.

Ororo leaned over Emma and undid one of the handcuffs. One ripe, gorgeous breast dangled over Emma’s mouth. She couldn’t resist temptation and leaned up, sucking her rosy mocha nipple inside, pulling greedily on it. Her eyes rolled shut in pleasure. Ororo gasped in outrage and shoved her back, slapping her.

“Did Mommy say you could do that? That was very, very rude.” Her sigh was ragged. “Very well, then. If you can’t keep your mouth to yourself, then I’ll have to close it for you.”

“Mommy-“

“Mistress,” she corrected her tersely. Ororo’s blue eyes were hard and her jaw was set. Emma trembled at the rush of emotional energy resonating from her; even without using her telepathy, it was impossible not to read Ororo. She was opening herself, projecting so much of pent-up rage and resentment, freeing herself of it as she focused it wholly on Emma.

Yet there was passion, and untapped lust, so primal that Emma was shocked she’d never fully witnessed it before, not even during her mind probe the first day they met. If she had to be honest – and Emma couldn’t escape the trap of honesty, not now – she’d raped Ororo, forced her way in and tore away all her barriers. All for the pleasure of hearing her scream, of breaking her.

“Why don’t you just stay put.” Emma didn’t struggle, but she watched Ororo move about the suite with wide, wary eyes. Her dark nipple was still rosy where Emma suckled it. She came back with her hands full of different tools of Emma’s punishment. Emma’s free arm tingled and throbbed with restored blood flow and she relaxed the other one slightly, knowing the relief would be short-lived.

When she saw the ball gag, she panicked. Ororo smiled wickedly.

“Shit,” Emma hissed. “Not that.”

“Potty mouth.” Emma struggled as Ororo approached with it. She ducked her face away from it and her jaw was roughly yanked back around. Ororo’s fingers pressed into her cheeks, forcing their crowns up beneath Emma’s eyes. Her face flooded with color. “Little girls should be seen and not heard. Shouldn’t they?” She released her face and shoved her, tumbling her back into the pillows. Emma’s hair around her temples and nape was plastered in tendrils to her skin. She was roughly flipped over onto her stomach by her ankles; thankfully the cuff slid around easily on her wrist, allowing her to manage the change without dislocating it.

She could have pulled away and stopped her. The method wouldn’t have mattered, but Emma was capable. Yet she couldn’t.

She craved helplessness. She wanted the luxury of not having to be in control. She still put up a slight struggle when Ororo forced a pillow beneath her belly and recuffed her other limb to the headboard. Emma’s ass was raised up for Ororo’s inspection.

Before she could guess what Ororo had in mind next, the flat of her palm whistled down on her left ass cheek with a sharp crack.

“AAAAHHHH!”

“I should wash your mouth out with soap, I never taught you to talk that way. Filthy little slut,” she cursed, letting another slap ring out. Emma’s rump was high and round and firm, the skin silky smooth, not a dimple in sight. Ororo spanked her again, and again, replacing the fair, peaches and cream complexion with a bright crimson flush.

Emma’s cries grew louder. Giving voice to her pain was a release in itself, but she yearned for more. She still clenched her pelvic floor, hardening her ass in the process. That provoked Ororo to spank her harder.

Ororo was growing wet, stimulated with power and lust. Emma’s cries and her musky scent were heady, wrapping around her. She caught sight of her reflection in Emma’s vanity mirror. Was that her, looking so wild-eyed?

“I’m sick of listening to you,” she lied. She loved it. But she took the ball gag and deftly looped it around Emma’s face, pushing the hot pink globe between her slack lips. Emma whined in her throat, a high-pitched “MMMMMPHHH!” that made Ororo want so much more…

It was fun to watch and hear her struggle. She fastened the gag in place behind her head and peered around her shoulder to look at her. Emma’s eyes were pleading with her, damp with more unshed tears.

She could take some more. Ororo saw it in the defiance in her face. She wanted Emma completely spent, limp as a noodle by the time she was through.

“Much better.” WHAP. “Yes,” she hissed. WHAP. She whaled on her, occasionally sliding a finger into Emma’s wetness, alternating pleasure with pain before setting upon her ass again with her palm, or the crop.

Emma’s screams were reduced to long, deep, guttural moans into the pillows, only partially muffled by the gag. She didn’t want to imagine how she looked or sounded. Humiliation flared up inside her, hot and overwhelming.

Ororo decided they were ready to move on, giving Emma one last switch with the crop. She flung it aside; it landed on the floor with a slap. She sat beside Emma on the bed; the mattress sagged beneath her weight.

“Are you ready to be a good girl?” Emma’s sob was barely audible, but she nodded. “Are you?”

“MMmmmmmnngh…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that…” Ororo temporarily unfastened the gag long enough to let her speak.

“Ready…I’ll be good,” she promised. Ororo looked at her with something akin to pity.

She’d only imagined it.

“Take a time out to think about what you did,” she told her as her fingertips whispered over Emma’s raw flesh. Emma broke out into chills and euphoria at the mild caress. Ororo traced light figure-eights around one rosy cheek, blowing puffs of cool air against it. Emma shivered. Emma’s breathing grew less choppy but was still labored. Ororo caressed her into a stupor. She almost didn’t notice the low click of someone opening and closing the refrigerator in Emma’s mini-bar.

Ice. She nearly had a heart attack at the first freezing, burning slide of the cube over her cheek. She writhed until Ororo slammed the flat of her hand into the small of her back, making her lie immobile.

“No!” she barked. Emma whimpered as she made another pass with the ice, sliding it over her reddened skin. It burned until she began to adjust to the temperature. Then it began to soothe the ache. Slightly.

She never knew where Ororo would move the ice next. Cold drippings pooled in the crease of her ass. She clenched it involuntarily; it tickled as it trickled into her anus.

Ororo’s eyes clouded with desire above Emma as she guided the ice down lower, grazing between her cheeks. Emma’s moans grew louder again, partly in protest, mostly in need. She stroked her, then took her hand away again, always blowing those misty breaths. Emma grew closer to her peak, but it was maddening, letting Ororo toy with her. Just desserts.

She was languorous, barely moving when Ororo began to tug at her hips, urging her onto all fours. It was difficult while she was cuffed, but she managed, her body still slanted so that she leaned forward on her elbows.

The ice was gone. Ororo’s fingers were probing the cleft of her ass, testing its fit and snugness. Ororo hummed a low, thoughtful sound in her throat. Emma was apprehensive but excited. She squeezed around her finger as she pushed it inside up to her first knuckle. She twisted it slightly, then worked up a rhythm.

“Will you let me do anything I want to you, whore?” Emma nodded and “mm-hmm’ed” a shaky reply. “No limits?” She shook her head in the negative, the gasped around the gag as Ororo dribbled something slippery and cold into her crack.

Emma bucked with a start as something rubbery and hard was slowly, carefully jammed into her puckered hole, stretching it unmercifully wide. It tingled and burned; her muscles instinctively tried to push it out to no avail. Ororo persistently pushed it in, countering her attempts to eject the plug, that was about five inches in circumference. More sweat broke out over Emma’s cheeks and she felt euphoric and faint from the new source of pain.

Yet she was sopping wet and wanted to be fucked until she passed out.

Ororo was no longer amused by her struggles and gave her a savage spank to still her. “EMMA! STOP IT, NOW! I SAID, LIE STILL!” She cupped her hand over the plug, holding it inside her as she leaned down to whisper in her ear. Ororo’s breath was hot, steaming her neck.

“I’m in control, you filthy little slut, not you. You don’t have a choice. This is bigger than you. There’s no turning back, understand?” Emma’s cries were garbled and mewling, and she sobbed around the gag, ashamed to let Ororo see her that way. “Do you understand me?” She tucked the plug back inside its sheath, tugged it out slightly, then thrust it in again.

Slowly, pleasure returned, heady and decadent. The plug stretched and massaged her tissues. Her womb and pussy responded to the squeezing pressure, becoming more aroused and pliant. She rocked back into the thrusts. Ororo was pleased.

She didn’t handle the plug any further, letting Emma simply grip it while she prepared another toy. She snapped a series of straps in place and checked the fit.

“I’m going to make you come. You don’t deserve it. I’m feeling generous.” She knelt behind Emma, positioning herself between her open knees. “I’m doing all the work. You’re getting all the pleasure. That’s because you’re selfish.” She rubbed the thick, smooth head against her vulnerable crotch, sliding between the lips in long strokes. Emma’s eyes rolled back in pleasure. “And you were right. You’re not so hard to figure out. I touched your body. When I was inside you.” She sheathed the dildo inside her, stretching her and creating counter-pressure against the plug. “I was curious. I didn’t want to take liberties, but I decided that if I didn’t know how long I was to be inside you, I might as well get comfortable, understand?”

Emma understood. Pleasure lapped at her as Ororo rocked into her, thrusting steadily. Emma hated that her hands were bound; she couldn’t even touch her captor, not for so much as a caress.

“Is it like this with Scott? Do you beg him to give it to you this way?” Emma’s moan was garbled and couched complaint. “Or is that the problem? Are you too proud to beg him? The high and mighty White Queen? You begged for me,” Ororo pointed out. “Do you beg for his love? Do you beg for his attention and time and for him to promise he’ll only love you, not Jean? Or do you just beg him for this?” Ororo wrenched herself back and pounded into Emma harder and faster, feeling the sting of muscles in her lower back. Her spine healed well from her injuries, but she still had pain from time to time when she pushed herself too hard. But this was worth it. It was good pain.

Like Emma’s pain…

“Does he like you like this?” Ororo panted.

No. He liked her calm and aloof out of their bed, and gentle and willing beneath the sheets. He put her on a pedestal. Perhaps in her way, Emma had placed him on one, too. She never knew if she could be “good enough.” But why should she want to be? Didn’t he love her as she was? Every wicked bone in her body? Wasn’t that what mattered?

Sometimes he craved her wild. He gave her control…to a point. There was always that certain…something in him. He wasn’t judging her. Measuring her, maybe.

Jean still held a part of him, yet Emma was guilty, too, of holding this part of herself back, not for lack of caring about him, but for fear of losing him. He wasn’t loving Emma, the whole woman.

Ororo’s hand slid down over her belly to her sex. She rubbed her clit, already slick with dew. Emma bucked, coming undone as pressure built up inside her, her entire body stimulated, nerves drawn tight and sending pleasure signals to her brain.

Her body spasmed back, slamming her ass back into Ororo’s hips and grinding into the pressure as she came. Wave after wave of sensation swept over her, curling her toes and making her forget the cramping pain in her arms and thighs, the low throb of her abused nipples, still clamped. She trembled and moaned, voice rising and falling with her orgasm as it ebbed. She tumbled to the mattress, sliding off of the strap-on.

“Enough?” Ororo murmured. She leaned over her and smoothed her pigtail back from her face, pulling it back over her shoulder. Emma nodded.

Ororo methodically began releasing her, undoing the cuffs and unfastening the gag. “I’m…sorry,” she offered hesitantly as she reached for the plug. That was gently removed; Emma hardly made a peep.

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean…”

“Stop it. Don’t ruin it. You did, too.” Emma rolled to her back and stared up at her. Her cheeks bore the slight imprint of the gag where it rubbed her the wrong way. Her jaw was weak and numb, but she felt replete. Her breathing was still ragged. Ororo reached for her again, carefully loosening and removing the clamps. She slid the chain free of Emma’s neck.

“Do they hurt?”

“What do you think?” Ororo looked chastened.

“Well. I’ve done what I came to do.”

“You enjoyed it.”

“It doesn’t matter if I-“

“Yes. It does. And you did.”

A vestige of Emma’s spirit returned to her eyes, despite her smudged mascara. “It made you hot. Taking it out on me after all this time.”

Ororo was silent. She sat back on her haunches and folded her arms around her middle. The breeze blowing inside was starting to clear away the funk in the room.

Ororo was still raw with need, aroused and restless, but she needed to back down from what transpired between them and recover herself. Emma was making it hard, still letting her light blue eyes roam over her.

“Nothing to say?” Emma leaned up on her elbows and sighed. “Don’t close up on me. This was refreshing for a change. Get the stick out of your ass for a change, weather-witch.”

Ororo warred with herself before speaking. “I’m not proud of this.”

“You should be. You didn’t hold back.”

“Emma…”

“No. Don’t argue with me, missy. You enjoyed it. Every minute of it. I didn’t read you, but I didn’t have to. I felt you. It was a rush. You’re still hot. Look at you.” Emma looked at her with pity. “You didn’t get off?”

“I…no,” she admitted. “Close. Not quite. Why am I telling you this?” She sprang up from the bed. “Wash your toys and put them away.”

“What, are you going to take a cold shower?” Emma mocked. “Don’t let it go to waste.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” Emma sat up and reached for a Kleenex and some lotion from her bedside table. “You’ll go upstairs and meditate or take a bath or play with your bloody plants and convince yourself that you’re not allowed to feel this way. You don’t care that you helped me and that it’s okay to feel good about how you helped me. For goodness sake, little girl, grow up!”

Ororo’s eyes flashed.

“So what do you suggest?”

Emma sighed. Then she picked up the furry handcuffs. “I believe you dropped these?”

Moments later, Emma was once again tethered to the headboard, this time with a pillow tucked comfortably beneath her head. Ororo’s thighs framed Emma’s ears as she crouched above her, sliding her sex over Emma’s mouth. Ororo’s eyes were shut in rapture as she gripped the headboard rails for balance.

“Lick me,” she commanded. “Do it right! Oh, Goddess, yes! Yes! Do it, you slut! Make me come!” Her voice was guttural, not resembling its usual lilting tones. She was focused on her own pleasure this time, yet fulfilling another of Emma’s fantasies, even if she hadn’t shared it with her.

Emma’s braid was clutched in her fist once again, twisting it and using it to guide Emma’s head where she wanted it. Emma’s breath felt hot and rich against her sex. She lapped at her thoroughly, drinking up her flavors and wetness that gathered there as soon as they began their session.

“Suck it,” she rasped. Her body’s response was overwhelming, again from the heady feeling of control, but also the delayed gratification of watching Emma come apart. Ororo coveted it as she plummeted toward release.

Emma was just as frustrated as she was before at not being able to touch her, but she had a clear view of the undersides of Ororo’s breasts and her head thrown back. Ororo ground against her face, needing to get closer and steal more of the wicked motion and heat beneath her.

Amidst the remaining guilt and curiosity of when Emma could have possibly done that before, Ororo came, quivering and crying out. She leaned slack and limp over the headboard rails, panting. Emma was just as out of breath as she carefully lifted up her hips. She reached over the bedside table for the keys and came back to free Emma. She took the same liberty as before, leaning up to taste Ororo’s breast. This time both women lingered over it; Ororo groaned at the swirling lap of her tongue at her nipple, but she pulled back, collapsing beside her on the king-sized bed.

They lay like that briefly until awareness set in. Both women grew wary as Ororo rolled to a sitting position and began to straighten her hair.

“Want coffee?” Emma offered quietly.

“No. No, thank you, I’m fine.”

“It’s later than I thought,” Emma remarked as she, too, resumed the routine of getting ready for a bath. She got up and began removing the rest of her outfit, shucking the long boots and tossing them into the closet. She wasn’t shy about disrobing in front of her, but she still felt strangely vulnerable.

“I should go downstairs and figure out what to feed everyone for dinner.”

“Sure. You do that.” The wall of ice between then rose up again. Emma silently wished things were different between them. They’d never have the kind of friendship Ororo enjoyed with Jean. They were two different, both sharing the fault of pride.

They could be strange bedfellows, but they could never be friends. At worst, they tore each other apart. At best, they knew exactly what was on the other’s mind.

They wouldn’t talk about it for a long time. When Scott arrived a week later, Emma’s response to his asking what she’d been up to while he was gone was innocent but clipped.

She felt Ororo’s mouth at her breast and heard her name chanting curses in her ears in the dark when Scott made love to her. That left her problem unsolved.

Emma still held a part of herself back from him, but it no longer belonged to Emma, either.


FIN.