A Day in the Life of Queen Marvel [pt. III]

Written in collaboration with Namichwan

Jean savored it for a moment. The naked intensity of it. The way M’Tendia tried to keep her body composed while her mind knelt in prayer.

Then Jean slipped into that prayer and answered it with the velvet pressure of a queen and the holy warmth of a goddess layered together until M’Tendia could not have said where Jean ended and Bast began.

Stand up, sweet thing. He’s going to use you.

M’Tendia shivered so hard around Scott’s cock that he looked down at once. Her lips slid from him with a wet sound. Water streamed off her chin and over the sleek brown line of her throat and small proud breasts. Her eyes were bright with overwhelming hope.

Jean smiled at Scott over the steam. Zola was still between her thighs, kissing slowly along the tender inside of one leg while Peni’s soapy hands worked over the underside of her breasts, kneading their heavy softness with patient devotion.

“Fuck her, Scott. She’s begging Bast for your cum so sweetly it’s becoming distracting.”

A faint, crooked smile tugged at the corner of Scott’s mouth. “Is that right?”

He took M’Tendia gently by the arms and drew her upright in the bath. She came willingly, eagerly, her lithe nude body unfolding from the water in one smooth line. She was gorgeous, all sleek dark skin and wet muscle, her braids clinging to her shoulders and upper back, her narrow waist flaring into supple hips that promised a surprisingly soft fullness lower down. Scott scooped her up with one arm under her thighs, the other braced around her back. She let out a startled little gasp that melted into a smile, and Jean felt the hot rush of elation inside her as Scott carried her through the steaming water.

He brought her to the marble ledge beside Jean, set her down with easy strength, then climbed up himself. Water streamed off his body in bright lines, over his broad chest and hard stomach and hard dick. He stretched out on his back behind Jean, one knee bent slightly, his head close enough to hers that they could speak as though they were still merely lounging together in the bath while attendants tended them.

The absurdity of that, the sheer Markandan ease of it, made Jean’s mouth curl.

Scott gave his thigh a light smack and pointed in the direction of his feet.

M’Tendia understood immediately.

Reverse cowgirl.

Excitement flashed through her so sharply Jean nearly laughed again. She slid into place between his spread thighs with a kind of trembling haste but Jean’s presence in her mind guided her limbs into Scott’s exact preference.

M’Tendia obeyed with grateful, beautiful earnestness. With feet pressed close between his thighs just past his balls on the tiles, she bent over herself, spine curved, knees flexed, her body arranged as though she were perched on an invisible chair. In that position her ass pushed back in two lovely wet black globes, slick from bathwater, while her small breasts pointed down toward her own thighs and the elegant line of her back and shoulders drew Scott’s gaze straight to the place where his cock waited for her.

She reached down, took hold of him with one careful hand, and lowered herself.

Scott’s breath deepened.

Jean felt the exact moment his eight inches breached her, the exact little hitch in M’Tendia’s body as her slick cunt opened and accepted him inch by pale inch. She made a broken sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, then settled all the way down until her ass rested against his lap and his cock was buried deep in her fertile heat.

“There,” Jean murmured, half to M’Tendia, half to herself.

Scott’s eyes never really left Jean’s face, but from where he lay he could still see what M’Tendia’s position offered him. The lovely wet globes of her black ass swallowing and giving back his white cock whenever she moved. The narrow dark seam opening and smoothing with each rise and drop. The obscene little rhythm of pale shaft appearing slick and shining between those bouncing cheeks only to vanish again into her body. It was lewd in a way that felt almost clinical in its perfection. A machine built for pleasure. A beautiful human cock-milker mounted over him and working.

Jean stayed half-reclined in the warm cradle of Peni’s body while Zola’s mouth found her again between the thighs. Pleasure fluttered through her, the twin’s tongue stroking her slick folds in slow, worshipful passes, but her attention remained fixed on Scott and M’Tendia. Through the telepathic link she guided the girl’s rhythm into exactly what he wanted, short eager drops at first, then a more controlled bounce, her feet planted close, thighs working, hands braced on her own knees while she rode his lap and cock as though it were the only proper seat in the world.

M’Tendia looked exquisite like that. Bent forward, all lithe dark grace and shameless service, ass pumping back over him, cunt swallowing him over and over while little ripples passed through her flanks. Her braids swung with each bounce. Her mouth hung parted. Her eyes had slipped half closed from the intensity of it, and Jean could taste the delirious sweetness in her thoughts.

I’m taking it. Bast, I’m taking it. Don’t let it stop. Please let him fill me.

Jean turned form the girl’s thoughts to her husband as she recalled what they’d been talking about, “You really believe in Mark, don’t you, Scott?”

Scott exhaled slowly through his nose and, with admirable composure, picked the thread of their conversation back up as if he were not currently being ridden in plain sight beside his wife.

He rested his head back on the marble, one hand settling at M’Tendia’s hip more to feel than to direct. He let her keep the rhythm Jean had given her, let her make a needy little piston of herself over his cock while he considered the question.

“Of course I believe in Mark,” he said at last. His voice stayed even, though Jean felt the deepening pleasure under it every time M’Tendia dropped hard enough to take him to the root. “He’s my lord and master. But I’ve been thinking about this for days now, and I think even without him, I would still want to protect Markanda.”

“Scott…” Jean’s tone softened, though Zola’s tongue had her hips shifting faintly under the water and Peni’s fingers were now rolling one hard nipple between soap-slick fingertips.

M’Tendia bounced faster for a few strokes, carried away by the words as much as the sex, and Scott’s hand tightened slightly on her hip. Not to stop her. Just to steady the ride. Jean brushed the girl’s mind again, easing her back into that perfect short disciplined rhythm, each descent sending a wet little clap through the steam.

“I try to think of all the possible futures,” Scott said. “The ways Markanda could fall. What happens if Apocalypse attacks? He’d believe mutant supremacy proves him right, but he’d also believe Mark has to prove himself physically to rule. But it’s not just him. What happens a few years from now when we have more of the superhero community in Mark’s thrall, only for Galactus or Thanos to threaten the world? Are we caught with our pants down? Do we fail to protect the world because we got comfortable?”

Jean smiled softly at him. At the man talking like a strategist while a beautiful black woman used his cock as her personal altar. “I’ve seen your mind work through these problems. Sometimes I had to quiet it just to fall asleep.”

Scott let out a breath that was almost a laugh. M’Tendia rode it, lifting and dropping, lifting and dropping, her cunt milking him with such focused greed that Jean could feel the pressure beginning to gather in his balls. Palesa had drifted closer too, kneeling in the water at his side to kiss and stroke one of his thighs.

“And yet those plans did nothing to save mutantkind,” Scott said. “We’ve faced genocide after genocide, world-ending threat after world-ending threat, and we’re still met with fear and racism. I used to think ten years into the future, but plans changed in a week. Apocalypse. Sinister. The Brood. Orchis. Trask. Magneto. Bastion.” He watched Jean, not the woman riding him. That was somehow the hottest part. “Xavier’s school has flaws. His dream has more. But Markanda could work. I can see how this works in one year. Five. Twelve.” M’Tendia moaned quietly as she came down on him harder and he let his eyes close for one brief second. “I think Mark may be our good future. Outside of locking ourselves on an island far from humanity and becoming breeding stock there, at least Markanda has a bountiful bevy of human wombs.”

“When you say it like that, it does sound appealing,” Jean purred.

It came out thicker than she intended, because Zola had chosen that moment to seal her mouth over Jean’s clit and suck.

Jean’s breath caught. Peni nuzzled into her cleavage with a hungry little hum, massaging both of Jean’s full wet breasts while Zola drank at her sex below, and for a second Jean simply let herself feel all of it at once. Her own pleasure. Scott’s gathering heat. M’Tendia’s **** joy at being used exactly this way.

She opened her eyes again and found Scott still looking at her.

“I bet all the other mutants out there may come running to Markanda once word gets out how good it is here,” she finished softly.

He smirked and nodded and they chatted about their plans for the day while they relaxed.

Jean watched him with open satisfaction while M’Tendia rode him in wet, obedient little drops beside her.

M’Tendia was starting to lose herself in the ride, her thighs trembling, her ass bouncing harder, her slick cunt greedily dragging over him with every descent. He took an almost indecently relaxed posture with his hands clasped behind his head, still speaking to Jean as if the girl milking his cock were simply part of the furniture of state.

Beneath Jean’s smile, inside the web of linked minds, M’Tendia’s prayer had changed. No longer please let him choose me. He already had. Now it was simpler. Hotter. Needier.

Please let him cum in me. I want a mutant baby. I want a mutant baby. I need a mutant baby! Please oh please!

“It is about time,” Jean said, almost lazily, though her thoughts were anything but, “that we stop leaving our friends in that suite to play at penance.”

Scott’s gaze sharpened at once. “You mean release them.”

“I do.”

M’Tendia chose that moment to drop a little harder onto him, so eager and distracted by the current of words moving over her head that the wet slap of her ass against his thighs echoed off the marble.

Scott barely seemed to notice as M’Tendia bounced on him perfectly like a lithe black doll posed for his use. Or rather, he noticed it and just took it as his due. Hands still clasped behind his head, body stretched out in a posture of complete ease, he watched Jean while M’Tendia rode his cock like a device built for one purpose.

“With the rest of the world in the know,” he said, “we need our friends fully on our side.”

The humiliation and sexual games Mark had them playing with the rest of the X-Men for the last few weeks had served their purpose. They had been punishment, indulgence, and spectacle, a way for Mark to amuse himself and remind their would-be rescuers that they had lost badly enough to be turned into palace entertainment for a while. Jean had enjoyed plenty of it herself but there was no need to leave them in a gilded cage now that the outside world knew Markanda existed. Their friends had had their comeuppance. They had been displayed, used, laughed at, and enjoyed. Now it was time to bring them back and put them at Mark’s side where they belonged.

She nodded, “They can help us run Markanda, help defend Mark, and while they’re at it, they can do their part in turning this place into exactly the sort of beautiful obscene spectacle the outside world won’t know how to take seriously.”

“Well, it certainly worked out with Hank.”

Jean actually giggled at that, a bright, girlish sound made huskier by the steam and the tongue still working lazily between her thighs. “It worked out very well with Hank,” she said. Her smile turned knowingly wicked. “We gave him a lab, a budget, a scientist, and a maid-slash-assistant, and within an hour he’d fucked and creampied both of them. He didn’t exactly need a long adjustment period.”

That drew a quiet, genuine snort from Scott. The black globes of M’Tendia’s ass rising and falling on his cock while he kept his eyes on Jean, “So today? All at once?” she nodded and he continued. “I’ll organize the guard.”

Not that it was needed as the X-Men had Mark’s subliminal commands keeping them docile and obedient but this sort of thing called for a little ceremony that their people, the Markandans, could appreciate. “This evening. Have Mark do it all at once. He can meet with them again, enjoy himself, make the shift official in his own way, and after that…” Her eyes turned bright with wicked warmth. “It can be a party.”

He smirked, “A party, huh.”

Jean laughed softly. “Yes, Scott. A party. We bring our friends back into the fold, let Mark have his fun, let the court feel the shift, and then we celebrate properly.” Her eyes half-lidded as she looked at him through the steam. “It would be a shame to mark an occasion like that with anything less than an orgy.”

He was getting close now. Jean could feel it. The pressure in his balls. The sharpening focus. The delicious strain between his composure and the sheer breeding need gathering in his body.

Her awareness slipped more fully into him for a moment and found something she always found now when a male mutant in the palace neared climax inside a fertile human body.

There it was again, that bright engineered surge the Professor had woven after one of Mark’s more careless horny thoughts had reached him and lodged itself into the psychic weather of their collective minds. Charles, ever the dutiful telepathic alter ego for Mark now, had taken the idea and polished it. Any male mutant who sank himself into a fertile human woman and spilled there got a second wave bundled into the orgasm itself. Satisfaction. Pride. Happiness so sudden and complete it was nearly narcotic. A flash of primitive certainty that this was good, right, productive, worthy. That his seed belonged there. That the world was momentarily in order.

Even in captivity, even in their palatial punishment upstairs, Logan and the others had felt it when they were maneuvered into breeding the Markandan women under telepathic direction. The students felt it too in their own sequestered hall of the palace, under Zenzi’s maternal watch, the young men giving their loving maids exactly what every horny instinct already urged them to give. Breed fertile women and your body tells you, with intoxicating chemical and psychic ****, that you have done something wonderful. Charles had managed to take one stupid, horny, errant thought from Mark and turn it into cultural mortar.

Jean very much approved and would see that the practice continued in the future if more mutants came to Markanda.

Scott felt it now and Jean eased out of the little nest of service she had been enjoying to slip to the side of the bath and watch.

Then Scott came.

The orgasm tore through him with sudden ****. Jean felt it open in him before the first pulse hit M’Tendia’s womb, physical pleasure and Charles’s carefully woven reward crashing together in one hot bright surge. Satisfaction blazed through Scott’s mind. Pride followed it. Then that deep almost boyish happiness, so complete and wonderful. For one brilliant instant he felt that the world was in order, because his cum was firing exactly where it ought to be.

M’Tendia cried out as the first spurt landed deep inside her.

Instead of bouncing, she sank all the way down on him and stayed there, cunt and cock sealed tightly together, then she began to grind her hips in slow urgent little circles over his pelvis, rubbing herself against him while keeping him buried to the root. The movement was filthy and perfect. Her ass rolled over the line of his lap. Her cunt clenched and dragged around him. Her whole body seemed focused on one thing only: hold him in, hold it in, take every pulse as deep as possible.

“Ohhh, fuck, yes,” she moaned, voice wrecked and breathless. “Yes, yes, put it there, put it there, fill my womb, fill it, fill it.”

Scott groaned, low and helpless this time, his fingers biting into her hip as more hot spurts of fertile mutant cum pumped directly into her.

“I can feel you,” M’Tendia babbled, scarcely coherent now. “Oh Bast, I can feel it, I can feel it in me, my lord, my lord, I won’t waste it, waste it, I promise I’ll make a baby, a mutant baby ohhh…”

Then her own climax hit.

She threw her head back with a ragged cry and came hard, cunt fluttering in frantic spasms around Scott’s still-throbbing cock while she kept grinding her pelvis on his, keeping them locked together as if refusing even the smallest chance for his seed to escape. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming on it,” she moaned. “Yes, yes, keep it in me, please, keep it all in me.”

Jean watched from the edge of the bath with Palesa, Peni, and Zola half-submerged beside her, all three women utterly transfixed.

Palesa’s lips were parted in something that looked almost like prayer. Peni had one hand pressed lightly to the upper swell of her own small breast, nipple hard and jeweled beneath her fingertips. Zola looked the most openly hungry of the three, her dark eyes fixed on the place where M’Tendia’s body sealed Scott’s cock deep inside her. Between them, in that steaming water, the mood was devotional and filthy at once. They watched their queen’s husband breed one of their own and seemed to feel no contradiction in meeting the sight with the same reverence they might have brought to a statue of Bast.

Scott gave another low groan as he emptied himself into her, his face no longer composed enough to hide how good it felt. M’Tendia rode the pulses with those **** little circles of her hips, grinding herself against his pelvis, cunt clamped tight around him, greedily taking everything. Her words had dissolved into wet broken sounds.

“Yes, yes… ohhh, my lord… there, there…”

Then the spasm of her climax rolled through her again in smaller aftershocks. Her back trembled. Her thighs shook. She kept him buried as long as she could, still rocking faintly, like she truly believed she could knead his seed deeper with sheer devotion.

Jean smiled.

M’Tendia finally lifted herself, very slowly, with obvious ****. Scott’s softened cock slipped free of her, glossy with her juices and his release, and a thick white strand spilled after it from her used black cunt to stripe the inside of his thigh. She gasped at the feel of it and immediately cupped herself with one hand, holding herself closed.

“Ohhh…” she whispered, dazed and blissful. “I felt every bit of it.”

Scott let his head rest back against the marble, breathing slower now, one hand still loose on her hip. He looked thoroughly satisfied.

Jean was pretty satisfied too.