Bad Girls Go To Hell

Emma always drank alone. Social drinking was, of course, done socially. But the serious, blotto, go home with someone you’ve never met and wake up beside a mutant that couldn’t pass for human in thirty years… that she did alone. She was leaking thoughts out like a sieve and the only reason her fallen barriers hadn’t downloaded the entire bar’s consciousnesses into her mind was that the alcohol acted as a sort of natural telepathy suppressor. Great fun at parties.

She was sitting in a booth, occasionally signaling for a new bottle from the gratuitously underdressed wait staff when someone slapped her on the back, making her jolt and spill her drink. It sloshed over her lap and halter top, staining their white into a grungy liquid brown. “Did I startle you?” Kitty asked, a curve distorting her lip into a jagged smile.

“I heard you as soon as you came through the door.” Emma tapped her temple. “Puppies, ponies, sugar, spice, everything nice.” She allowed herself the grace of an unrestrained sneer. “I’m not in the mood, Katherine. Go waggle your lips and hips in front of someone else. I’m sure there’s a brute somewhere just itching to despoil you.”

Kitty body-checked over Emma and sat down in the corner of the booth. She was dressed in her team outfit, gloves off and stuffed into her belt. “I’m all despoiled out at the moment. I’d rather come out and rub salt in your wounds. Whiskey, straight-up,” she said to the waiter before turning back to Emma. “Is it true Scott dropped you like a bad habit?”

“Whiskey? So it’s the Canadian rubbing off on you now. I thought you’d prefer that metal gent. Less hair, more metal. No chafing, although it must be uncomfortable if he stays out in the sun for too long. Like when you were a girl, riding down a playground slide, the metal scalding your bare thighs like an oven.” Emma leaned over, letting Kitty smell the alcohol on her breath. “Do you still have the burns, dear Katherine?”

Kitty was silent until their drinks came. Emma took a Long Island Iced Tea, which Kitty laughed at as she poured herself a shot of Jim Bean. “So why did he dump you anyway? I know Rachel was betting on you lingering until Jean came back, but I always thought things would fall out sooner. Was it the sex? Did the sex lose its forbidden fruitiness?”

“You are a sadistic little tart.” Emma pushed her drink aside and stole Kitty’s. “I’ve taught you well.”

Despite her bravado, Kitty had been sipping her whiskey. Emma tossed it back like it was water. “Taught? Is that what you call torture, corporeal punishment, and brainwashing these days?”

“No, I call it foreign policy.” She slammed her drink down. ”Of all the ungrateful…! I trained you, taught you, fed you from my own breast practically…

“I lived in terror of you!” Kitty said, face reddening at the memory. “You threatened to kill me!”

“Not kill, educate. A subtle distinction at times, but a distinction none the less.” She went back to her Iced Tea, in control once more. She drank it languidly between words. “And let’s be honest. Deep down, in the part you don’t bring up when your pet dragon’s on your shoulder and your pet Wolverine’s in your lap, you knew you deserved punishment. And when we deserve something, there’s always a little satisfaction in getting it…”

”Whatever, ‘granny’.”

”I’m only twenty-nine!” Emma protested, sounding more stricken than angry. That soon changed.

”Sure you are. And what Wolverine does is very nice.”

”You're not too old to spank,“ Emma said archly.

”Are you sure you'll be able to go through with it, what with your arthritis flaring up?” Kitty fired back.

Emma pushed the table back, freeing up more space on their side. ”One more age joke and I'll take you over my knee.”

”You can do that? Then the hip-replacement surgery worked!” Kitty snapped her fingers. “That must be why Scott broke it off. Those May-December romances never work out…”

Kitty saw her coming just a little too late. A sudden migraine drove all though of intangibility out of her mind; she’d end up stuck inside a wall as soon as she tried it. Emma grabbed her by the hair and jerked Kitty down across her knees. She struggled in Emma’s lap, but there was nothing she could do. Her ass was Emma’s to do with as she pleased.

“Stop struggling, you little cunt. Stop struggling or I’ll turn to diamond and then we’ll see how you like being paddled.”

Flustered, Kitty stopped. She was beginning to draw attention anyway and the only thing worse than this would be people watching. Thank God the bar was dark. Thank God Emma was rubbing her ass, fingering her panty line right through the spandex.

“Look at that hot ass,” Emma slurred. She was buzzed, but that just made her meaner. Hornier. “I bet you have a tight asshole. I can hardly wait to get right into it.”

“You’re going to sodomize me?” Kitty asked, horrified. No. Not in a million years would she let any man take her there, and she certainly wasn’t doing to let Emma fucking Frost do it.

Emma smiled at the thought. “No. I’m going to get that hot ass even hotter. Red-hot.”

The few bar patrons within earshot craned their heads. Kitty whimpered as Emma undid her belt, slowing drawing it through each individual loop in turn. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for the crowd to look away.

“I'm the teacher here,” Emma continued, in a monologue that would’ve been fine by any supervillain standard if she weren’t weaving drunkenly and her face wasn’t ruddy with drink. “And you’ve been a very naughty girl. You deserve a spanking." And Emma demonstrated with a slight tap that made Kitty wince in discomfort.

With each passing moment, Emma was sobering. Kitty, on the other hand, was intoxicated with fear and the potent eroticism of Emma’s presence, actions, most of all; undressing. When she opened her eyes, the bar patrons had looked away. Emma’s power, perhaps, a small note of mercy.

“This punishment is for you alone,” Emma said as she laid the belt on the table in a neat pile. “You and me…”

Kitty knew Emma was surveying the pert upward thrust of her posterior. Her uniform wasn’t supposed to be so skintight or thin, but under Emma’s gaze Kitty felt like her clothes were translucent. She wriggled her ass and, horrified, wondered why she had done it… and why this sent fresh waves of anticipation through her slim frame. Deliberately, taking her time, Emma caught hold of Kitty’s shirt and jerked it out from where it was tucked into her pants. Kitty felt a cool draft against her burning hot flesh as her top was thrown up onto her back. Emma pulled it upward until it was bunched at Kitty’s shoulders, revealing the mother-of-pearl bra straps that bit into Kitty’s clammy skin. She snapped the bra, making Kitty gasp.

“Just get on with it, you bitch. Get it over with.”

“Oh, is that what you want?” Emma sinuously pulled the shirt back down, covering Kitty’s bare back once more. “I think you want me to take my time. I think you want me,” with each word she ripped Kitty’s pants down another inch, “to paddle… every… single… inch… of that hot little ass,” Kitty’s pants were around her knees, “ until it’s… red… hot!”

Kitty’s pants were around her ankles. Her panties were on display for all to see, gleaming like a full moon in the gloomy bar.

For the first time Emma looked down to her target, the panties which cut into the deep valley between her cheeks and revealed in every last intimate detail the dimples and scars on their otherwise perfectly symmetrical globes. Emma left her like this for a minute and Kitty finally gave in, turning her anxious head to see Emma sipping an Appletini.

“Compliments of the gentleman at the bar.” Emma pointed. Kitty looked and there was Piotr, grinning lasciviously and rubbing the bulge in his pants with the hand that wasn’t toasting her. Kitty blinked away tears and her boyfriend blurred into another man, not even facing her. Another of Emma’s tricks, as proven by her wheezing laughter.

“You vicious, ice-cold bitch,” she hissed. She wanted to phase every sharp object ever invented straight into Emma’s gut.

“Oh, now boyfriends are off-limits? Did you just now realize you’ve been dating a statutory rapist?”

“Don’t talk about Piotr like that.”

“Or what, Lolita? You’ll do this?”

Emma began spanking her through the flimsy white panties with the palm of her hand. The slapping was harsh and sounded loud as gunshots to Kitty’s ears, her sleekly naked thighs shivering piteously before each cruel blow. She wondered desperately how anyone in the bar couldn’t hear. Was she hating that no one would help her or thankful that no one would see her like this, debauched and ravished by the woman she hated more than anything. Or was she thankful that there were no interruptions?

Kitty squelched the annoyingly sapphic thought back where it came from. The spanking had stopped and now Emma’s fingers, cold and arachnid, were hooked into the top of Kitty’s panties. They pulled them slowly down over the delicious firmness of her reddened buttocks so that again Kitty grew simultaneously excited and terrified. The tight elastic reluctantly left her cheeks to the caress of the air. As the panties were pulled down past her pubic mound she moaned softly. If only it were Piotr doing this to her! She knew that if it were him than a mere touch would send her into orgasm. But she contained herself and let Emma continue. She would not give in.

Emma pulled faster, clearing her sleek legs and over her feet, and now her bare ass was fully exposed in all its vulnerable, out-thrust whiteness. Kitty almost broke into tears at the thought of the expected blows on her trembling cheeks -- “This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.” -- and flinched again for a moment as the first open-handed slap descended on her and drove her clit firmly against the corded muscle of Emma’s thigh.

“Krav Maga, kickboxing, and ten miles jogging with Scott every fucking morning.” Emma’s teeth were gritted, her voice frothing. Kitty’s whole body was jolted as Emma's hand slapped hard against her ass. She tried to escape, but the blows began raining down. “Getting up at six in the morning to play that health maniac’s game, choking down snow peas and tofu to stay in top physical condition. I would have given that man the best years of my life!”

Emma was still ranting about Scott, but Kitty couldn’t hear her. Pain shot through her body, from her sensitive ass, to her aroused nipples, to her wet lips. With each smack, she uncontrollably jerked in Emma's lap. Her legs kicked out in involuntary reflex. Although she refrained from screaming, she moaned with the pain as each blow landed on her tender ass. Although she hated herself for it, she reached out to the very source of her pain for relief. She gripped Emma’s shapely leg and squeezed hard as her mind was taken over by the pain. Despite everything, she took comfort from the merest contact.

Emma was enjoying herself. It felt good to get her feelings about Scott off her chest and if that meant she could show Kitty who was boss, so much the better. She always tremendously enjoyed showing her students who was boss. Feeling a problem student wriggling in her lap while she turned that troublemaker’s ass bright red made her just plain wet. With each blow, naughty little Katherine kicked and her soft belly slid over Emma’s inflamed pussy. Emma smacked Kitty’s soft, quivering ass again and again.

Kitty repeatedly cringed under the falling blows. Gradually, it seemed to her that she was not getting hit as hard as before. But the sound of the smacks was just as loud, and each swat still landed with bone-jarring force. Slowly, it dawned on her that the blows were not getting softer; her ass was getting numbed by the pain. Still, she would not scream, would not beg Emma to stop. She wouldn’t give the bitch that satisfaction.

But then, as wonderful waves of sensation swam powerfully through her stretched body, she began to relax and enjoy. There was something strangely intoxicating about being so wantonly exhibited in this way, so completely powerless before someone she found so loathsome. Morally loathsome. Visually, Emma was goddamn art. The sight of her proud breasts, voluptuous curves, and satin skin seemed to press further into Kitty’s mind with each smack on her bottom. Emma may have been a whore, but she was a goddamn beautiful one.

Just as Kitty realized she was thinking of the freaky telepathic female dominatrix who was abusing her as hot, she also realized that her clit was buzzing, sliding on Emma’s pant leg. Now her moans of pain began turning to moans of pleasure. Emma, noticing the change she had half-expected, began spanking her harder and faster. With her other hand, she grabbed an empty beer bottle and handed it to Kitty.

"You know what to do with this," she whispered, and a million images of Kitty, Storm, Jean, Scott, Angelina Jolie, every single woman who Emma had ever found attractive, they all flooded into Kitty’s mind, each one pleasuring themselves with the bottle in a different way. It was like the telepathic Kama Sutra of longnecks.

Breathless with anticipation, Emma stopped spanking Kitty long enough for the younger girl to position the bottle between her legs. She dreamed that it was Piotr’s big prick that was splitting her labia apart as she pressed the lip of the bottle against herself. Emma broadcast rueful thoughts of her love affair with Scott, a flurry of sexual positions narrowed down to missionary style. The bitch didn’t even have the common decency to let her fantasize about Piotr while she got herself off, it had to be Emma’s fantasy.

Kitty gently slipped it up and down her slit to lubricate it, then centered it back against her pussy. She inhaled and began pushing the neck of the bottle inside. A low gasp was strained through her throat. Emma smiled at it. Kitty felt a hot burst of superiority rising off of Emma. She could’ve taken the whole bottle without flinching.

“Must be because you’re a whore.”

Emma spanked her, driving the bottle deeper in. Kitty lost her breath as surely as if someone had gut-punched her. She regained it as her cunt began opening, filling her pussy with sweet fulfillment. Pulling the bottle back, she felt her cunt closing back up. Reversing the bottle's direction, she once again began to work it into her cunt. Her pussy stretched wider as she moaned in desire.

As more of her juices were smeared on the bottle, Kitty kept working it back and forth. It slowly slipped deeper each time. Almost unconsciously, Emma was keening with her, leaning back and forth in rhythm with Kitty’s masturbation. The girl’s head fell forward, forehead resting against the plush red cushion of the booth, and her lips parted as she moaned in joy. The bottle steadily worked deeper, stretching her pussy more and more. Her eyes closed as she let her consciousness be carried away by Emma’s mind and imagined Scott, her teacher, her leader, her friend, plunging his big cock up her cunt.

“He was so fucking good at cockmanship. Fucking master of it.” The f-word fell off of Emma’s lips like thunder. Just hearing her say it… she wasn’t casual about it, she made the word hard and forceful… was making Kitty breath harder. “Jean must’ve taught him well. She must’ve fucked him until he knew all there was to know about fucking. He must’ve come in her every night. And now my cunt isn’t good enough for him?”

With her left hand, Kitty spread her swollen lips. She separated them to let the bottle slip in between them a little easier. With a little less friction, more of the slick bottle slid up her pussy.

“Tell me more,” she moaned.

“The man was a fucking god at foreplay. He was slow like melting butter. He wrung every single iota of pleasure out of my skin…” she bit her lips. “My breasts, my lips… He spanked my ass, just like…”

Again and again Emma laid the palm of her hand against Kitty’s milky-white asscheeks until the flesh was all red. The longer her ass was spanked, the more excited Kitty got. This has passed beyond their usual game of one-upmanship into some kind of strange love affair. She should’ve known better. This was textbook Emma, practically her M.O. She shouldn’t play Emma’s game, she knew this. Instead she stuck her ass even higher in the air and wiggled it even more.

"Oh, yeah, whip my ass!" Kitty moaned, the bottle lying forgotten but full inside her. “Fuck me like Scott fucked you!”

Emma picked up Kitty’s belt, the X-shaped buckle making a dull clang where it trailed over the tabletop. She bunched it together and whipped Kitty’s ass. This time Kitty did cry out, but by now she didn’t care if anyone could hear her. If Emma could be an exhibitionist, so could see. Again and again the leather came down against her satiny-smooth ass. Kitty’s ass was getting redder and redder. And she was getting more and more turned on. She was wiggling her ass like crazy, her breasts heaving. She breathed deeper. She had no choice. She began to fuck the bottle once more.

Her hips began thrusting as her cunt began working itself down the bottle. Her tight cunt muscles began clamping down around the bottle. Her pussy squeezed, then let go, and then squeezed around the bottle again. She relaxed her pussy as the bottle drove in, then clamped down around it as it slipped back for the next thrust. All the while, her pretty ass was getting tanned by her former enemy, former rival, current lover. Emma. Emma, Emma, Emma. Kitty felt like Emma was an invader breaching her defenses, overwriting her personality with whatever wanton whore could possibly enjoy being abused in such an awful fashion. This wasn’t her. This was someone else. This was someone Kitty could stand to be… for just a little while longer.

With only the slightest hesitation, Kitty grabbed the bottle and began pushing it in and out of her swollen cunt. Involuntary moans escaped her lips as the pleasure immediately doubled. She pulled the bottle almost all the way out of her tight cunt, then drove it back inside to the hilt. The bottle slid effortlessly. She had never before felt such pleasure.

Her pussy was now creaming all over the place. It dripped out of her cunt and soaked into Emma’s pants. It seeped out from around the bottle in a never-ending supply. Her head lifted from its prone position as she threw it back in pleasure. The emanations from her cunt began building in intensity. Her clit buzzed, sliding on Emma's pant leg. The bottle was tightly squeezed in her cunt. An irrational fear, nourished by Emma’s sadistic impulses, imagined one of her orgasmic contractions shattering the bottle within her. Even that nightmare didn’t stop her orgasm. It couldn’t. What could?

She climaxed from deep within her body, exploding with gut-wrenching force. She could still feel the spanks landing on her ass, but no longer did she feel any pain. Her burning ass sent waves of hot pleasure scorching their way to her cunt and clit. From there, they shot through her entire body, overloading her brain with an ecstasy she had never known. As she convulsed, she almost blacked out in total orgasm. Scott Summers, eat your heart out. The thought was Emma’s.

Her mind was taken over. Her lust blocked all other thoughts she might have had. She bucked, twisting and jerking in Emma's lap as she came. The more she moved, the harder Emma hit. Kitty’s cunt repeatedly clamped tightly around the slippery bottle with her spasms. Her eyes screwed tightly closed. Her face was drawn up in a grimace of mindless pleasure. Her whole body tensed, convulsing again and again. Oh, goddamn, it's so fucking good, she thought. Was it hers or Emma’s? She didn’t know anymore. She didn’t care. Let Emma take her, possess her, play with her and discard her when she tired. As long as it felt this good, she would give as good as she got. She wouldn’t be easy prey, but she would do to Emma exactly what Emma intended to do to her. She would take what she wanted and… come!

Gradually, the bottle slid slower than before. Kitty slumped down in exhaustion, her young mind blown. She had never before experienced such excruciating bliss. She hadn't known such heights of pleasure were possible. As she stopped writhing in Emma's lap, the beating ceased.

Lovingly, Emma’s hands roved up and down. She soothed the girl's painfully reddened flesh, knowing from experience how good it would feel after the beating. Her hands gently slid around in a circular pattern. Then they slid back and forth, from one asscheek to the other. Kitty’s ass was silky smooth. The flesh was so soft, yet firm. Emma’s hand slid down the girl's legs, then crossed back up to her fine little ass. Kitty wasn’t so bad, Emma thought. She just needed to overcome that streak of prudish modesty some barbarian had endued her with. As soon as she came to terms with what Emma had to teach her, she would be every bit the formidable Black Queen Emma had first imagined her as. She just had to be trained, molded… disciplined. And one day, when Kitty had outgrown her own sexual submissiveness, Emma would finally have someone who could play with her at her own level.

Her hand slipped in between Kitty’s legs. Kitty relaxed as she felt Emma gently rub her throbbing ass. The gentle touch felt so good in contrast to the pain of the spanking. Her cunt was still sensitive and cream still dripped it. Her labia was swollen, wet, and red. Emma’s caress sent shivers up and down her spine. The last evidence of her orgasm was dripping out of her.

Kitty felt the Emma's hand gliding between her asscheeks and flicking over her sensitive cunt. She spread her legs in acceptance, raising her ass to a better angle and lowering her legs as she spread them. With a jolt of pain, a single finger entered her and stirred, scooping up Kitty’s juices. Kitty whimpered when it was removed.

“Bottoms up,” Emma toasted sardonically. Her Appletini was half-full, although Emma would have characterized it as half empty.

Emma swirled Kitty’s own juices around the lip of the glass, then fed it to Kitty. Kitty tasted herself, the flavor immediately noticeable. Emma finished the drink off herself.

“I’ll keep these,” Emma said, shoving Kitty’s panties into her purse. Then she tugged Kitty’s pants back up to her waist.

Kitty still looked well and truly fucked. Her mouth gaped open, her skin shone with sweat, her hair was plastered to her face, and her clothes were untucked and in obvious dishabille.

“Next time, I’m gonna fuck you straight up the ass,” Emma whispered to Kitty, who by now had fallen half-asleep on Emma’s shoulder. “Waiter, some peanuts and another drink. Don’t mind my friend, she’s has a few too many.” She brushed a strand of sweaty hair away to whisper in Kitty’s ear, mock-lovingly “You don’t want me to ‘sodomize’ you, you fucking keep that big mouth shut unless you’ve got something nice to say, got it?”

“You have great breasts,” Kitty murmured woozily as her head slipped down to use Emma’s cleavage as a pillow.

“Like that, exactly.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Kitty said as their refreshments arrived.

Emma sipped her drink coolly. It lacked a certain something. With a disdainful shrug she dipped her hand into Kitty’s pants for a new ingredient to add to the cocktail. She stirred the drink with fingers coated in Kitty’s juices, then set two straws into it. Kitty suckled weakly when the straw was placed between her lips.

“Well, Katherine,” Emma said over the slurping of Kitty’s straw, “now that Scott’s made the biggest mistake of his life, I feel like you’re going to make an excellent new project.” She took a comb from her purse and began fixing Kitty’s messy hair. “I’m going to rectify certain mistakes made in her education. No need to thank me, darling. Passing knowledge on to the next generation is reward enough.”

Yes, Kitty would be every bit the Black Queen that Jean never was. You just had to get them young, that was the trick. When their minds were open to new ideas, new experiences, new loves. Emma brushed a tangle out of Kitty’s hair, slowly, taking care not to cause the dazed girl any undue pain. And some day, Scott, her oh-so-contemptuous White King, would look upon the two of them – the daughter he’d never respected and the wife he’d never loved – and he would rue the day he turned his back on Hellfire.

“Katherine, this could be the beginning of a beautiful... partnership.”

Kitty snorted disdainfully and Emma slapped her.