Sluts of the Savage Land 5

Emma had a flash of rage she knew to be irrational at Ororo. Why was her anger so strong when it came to that woman? After all, she prided herself on being cold and logical. There were few reasons to hate Ororo and a great many to appreciate her. She had many sterling qualities, almost as many as Emma herself.

Perhaps that was it. Ororo was superior to many and she knew it. She was too damned sure of herself. How could Emma put up with someone who acted so snide and superior?

Without thinking about it, Emma clenched her thighs together. Her breasts ached. In the discreet darkness, she started to massage them. The nipples tingled; a healthy feeling spreading back down to her thighs as she rubbed them together. Her knowing hands plied the creamy flesh, soon reaching down for her clit as it buzzed in longing, left out from the pressure that was favoring her sex…

Realizing what she was doing, Emma forced step after step to the river. There, almost bitterly, she washed herself with cold water. One benefit of having so much damage done to her wardrobe: she didn’t have to worry overmuch about getting her clothes wet.

Emma went to the tent. Inside, she closed her eyes and tried to will herself into a relaxed, restorative slumber. Her thoughts kept wandering away from her, though, going to the enigma of Ororo—the one source of stimulation in this godforsaken jungle.

Her blood tingled. Her skin itched under her skimpy clothing. Emma tossed and turned, beginning to sweat. Finally, exasperated, she stripped and lay spreadeagled on her back, knowing she would have to take action to calm her tormented nerves.

Shutting her eyes and reaching down to her pubic mound, Emma launched herself into a fantasy. One she knew she could make come true, once she got back, and that Ororo couldn’t begin to share in.

***

Scott opened up the snap-topped leather pouch on his belt. Inside were a pair of handcuffs. They gleamed metallically. As Scott brandished them at her, their shine seemed like a personal threat.

“You’ve been lording your superiority over the X-Men once too often,” he said. “They want to see you taken down a peg. And we both know I’m the only one who can fuck that smug look off your face…”

Then he was on her—shoving her facedown on the couch, yanking her right arm back, snapping shut the stainless steel ratchet-jaw on her wrist.

“You need handcuffs to dominate me?”

“Absolutely,” Scott said. “I need all the help I can get. I’m man enough to admit it.”

“You’ll have to prove that ‘man enough’ part. Just be sure to cuff my other wrist first.”

“I’m not playing, Emma. I’m going to fuck your cunt in and enjoy the hell out of it. And I’m not asking for permission.”

“Prove it!” Emma challenged again, and made to slip free of him, but Scott was as good as his word. Roughly, he drew her other arm back to the other one and slapped on the cuff. It clanked shut with a sound as final as a bolt being thrown.

“Now roll over. Let’s see how much woman I’m going to have to put in her place.”

Scott lifted her legs and twisted her about on the couch. All Emma’s unwillingness only made it more exciting.

Next he closed his hands around the waistband of her skimpy shorts and ripped them away. Emma struggled not to cry out as the cloth ripped, seams parting.

Her blonde pubic hair was shaven in the shape of a diamond, a precise little notch above her otherwise hairless pubis.

Scott grabbed her ankles and jerked her legs apart for the best possible look. “Very nice. Very aesthetic. But you smell like a whore, good for nothing but fucking.”

Emma pursed her lips, hating that her wetness gave away how turned on she was by all this. With her hands cuffed behind her back, a searing tension was building around her wrists and up in her shoulders. She made a little moue, coming undone from her wrenched arms and mounting fear. She knew Scott had a lot of frustration to take out on her. She hoped he wouldn’t stop at the last moment, now that he was right there at the finish line.

“I should work you over with a horsewhip,” Scott said coldly. “Spank you with a hairbrush. Tattoo you with the exact words you use to beg for my cock—I can see you thinking them up already. But I don’t have any of those things. All I’ve got is this cock.”

And he brought it out. Now Emma did make a noise, trilling in distress at the sight of his size—only growing bigger with him stroking it, his every touch on its length gloating at how much he had, how much he could force her to take.

“I know how much you love sex, Emma. The only reason you haven’t fucked half the school must be because you like the thought of having a tight little pussy even more than you like being reamed out. Sorry about that, Frost. I’m going to give you a loose whore pussy to go with what a kinky bitch you are.”

Emma knew the real Scott wouldn’t ruin her cunt the way this Scott was threatening to. She also knew that it was her fantasy and somehow she found nothing more arousing than Scott being so passionate that he wrecked her, destroyed her perfect body with all the desire he had for it.

“Scott, think about what you’re doing,” she said, putting a tremble in her voice appropriate for a woman in fear of being raped. “Do you really want to risk the wrath of the White Queen?”

“You can work up as much wrath as you want. I’m still going to suck on those big, gorgeous tits.”

He pinched one thick nipple between his fingers and dropped his mouth to the other, biting it hard.

“HUUUNGH!” Emma moaned. It felt good, the way his fingers were stroking one nipple, but it was terrible to have his teeth grind into the tender flesh of the other. Then it got better. He ran his tongue over her throbbing nipple, twirling the hot wetness around its sensitive contours, and Emma heard herself sight with pleasure despite her fear.

Then his fingers twisted her nipple and she cried out in pain again.

“I knew you were a whore,” Scott said. “And whores are all alike.”

Emma grunted meaninglessly, tugging against the handcuffs. Did she want to get free or did she want to get her hands on the big prick he’d taunted her with? It’d been so long since she’d found something as long and hard as that.

Scott sucked until the pressure was hard enough to hurt, then dug his teeth in, then relented—a little—with a series of whipping strokes from his tongue. Emma wanted to scream in frustration at how he took her from pain to pleasure without ever giving her a chance to get enough of any one sensation. Even that was taken away from her, though. As soon as she began to vocalize, the waves of pleasure from his groping hand choked off the sound.

“Now let’s see what all this foreplay has done to your pussy,” he said with a hungry smile. “I know being handcuffed was enough to get you wet, so I can’t even imagine what actually having those big tits played with instead of gawked at will get me.”

He put his hand on the silken pubic thatch, parred down to a tiny perfect diamond, and after that sample of softness, his hand went down between her milk-white thighs. Emma gurgled suffocatingly.

She knew he was feeling how hot she was, how wet. She could feel it herself, the sensation reflected off his pressuring palm. And her eyes rolled up in her head as she knew, she knew, he was about to finger her…

He didn’t, though. He took his hand away from her and smelled it.

“This doesn’t smell like cum at all. What’s the matter, Frost, I thought you were popular?”

“No,” Emma said, it just slipping out. “I haven’t found time to take a lover.”

“I suppose you could just act like such a bitch that someone chains you up and fucks you.” With a smile, Scott wiggled his fingers into her mons. They dipped inside her this time.

“HHHaaa!” Emma gasped. She couldn’t help it, her hips moved with his fingers like he was fucking her.

“That’s what you want, right? You want a big cock in your cunt, even when you say you don’t.”

“Yes, damn it! Fuck me, you bastard! Fuck me hard and make it hurt!”

Scott forced her legs apart with a rough sweep of his hands. One leg dangled off the side of the couch, foot flat on the floor. The other was up over the back of the couch.

“Don’t you dare fucking move those,” Scott told her.

She gasped expectantly.