Rendezvous with a Dora

Mark, Jean, Ororo, and Scott walked through the forest in a rural area just outside of Mark's hometown. The sun blazed a bright white-yellow overhead, obscured only by the verdant branches of the tall flora that towered over the forest floor. Birds chirped their summer songs all around them. They fluttered from branch to branch in the trees every so often, regarding the human mutants with curious black eyes.

They found the clearing up ahead. A small meadow with a stream running through it on the far end.

"I used to play in this forest all the time as a kid. It was a place I could go to be alone," Mark said softly. He ran a hand along the bark of a nearby tree. The rough exterior felt cold to his other sense; the feeling that allowed him to send thoughts into other living beings.

"No minds for you to brush against accidentally," Jean muttered from behind him.

He turned to face her and found Jean and Ororo leveling concerned gazes at him.

"Yeah, I guess. All the animals were scared of me, so I never got to see if my powers affected them."

The two older women glanced at each other and seemed to come to some sort of agreement.

"You'll never have to be alone again. We promise you, Mark," Jean said, surprising him by dropping the 'Master' honorific she'd grown fond of using.

"There's the craft. Be ready, my lord," Scott said as he pointed an approaching spec in the distance. It rapidly grew larger as it neared Mark's retinue.

Mark nodded his thanks to the two women. They smiled brightly.

"Good eye, Scott," Mark said.

"Thank you, my lord," Scott bowed slightly.

Mark turned to Ororo and said, “I'm surprised Black Panther actually sent a craft when you called. I thought you two didn’t end your relationship on the best of terms.”

A complicated look passed over Ororo’s face. The white-haired, dark-skinned mutant was clad in a tight black X-Men uniform that emphasized her delicious curves. To her side, Scott watched the approaching craft with a critical eye. His right hand twitched, ready to depress the activation button on the side of his visor to fire upon the ship should it prove to be a threat. Jean stood next to Mark, emerald eyes gazing at him worshipfully even as she formed a rippling telekinetic barrier between them and the outside world.

“We parted in a manner that was less than ideal, yes. He hurt me more deeply than any man ever has, but he was always the sort to offer help to me when I asked for it. I just haven’t been in a position where I’d be willing to do so until now,” Ororo said. She allowed a small smile to grace her face and her voice grew more impassioned, intense. “He probably never guessed he would be helping me deliver his kingdom and all the women in it to you, my King.”

King.

The word sent a shiver down his spine. His cock twitched.

Apparently Ororo had an inkling of his thoughts because her small grin became an impish smirk. She gave her plump lips a seductive lick.

Goddamn… Alright, focus. You can have fun with Ororo once whoever’s in that craft has been dealt with.

“Alright. Get in position,” Mark ordered.

The dark-skinned mutant nodded, but the smug smirk never left her face. She walked into the clearing, limping slightly as she did so. Mark’s gaze fell to her wide, round posterior.

Mark grinned, remembering the way he'd roughly abused Ororo's ass the night before. The fact that he’d been responsible for her limp caused his chest to swell with pride.

The craft had just reached the treeline and for the first time Mark got a good look at it. It was sleek instead of angular like aircraft Mark was used to seeing. It had a visage akin to a stingray. Oddly enough, the hull was silverish, but it didn’t appear to reflect the light from the sun. The craft was rather large for something that could hover without any form of visible propulsion. Mark heard a faint metallic humming of what might have been an engine or generator from above, but beyond that the craft was completely silent as it descended.

No exhaust exit points on the bottom, so how is it hovering? Better question, how did it even make its way into US airspace without being intercepted? Are the Wakandans really that advanced?

“Jean, can you get a read on the pilot?” Mark asked.

The buxom redhead smiled at him and reached a finger to her temple. Her smile dimmed. “Yes, but it’s very faint. Like an image through a sea of static. The pilot is a woman, but beyond that I couldn’t say.”

I thought Wakanda might have some anti-telepathy technology, but to see it so soon and so far away from the kingdom…

Mark frowned. “Do you sense anyone else in there?”

Jean shook her head. “No, Master. Only the pilot.” The redhead glanced at her husband. Scott caught her gaze and nodded.

“They must have some sort of psychic interdiction field, my lord,” Scott said. His brow furrowed behind his visor. “If it persists then Jean, Ororo, and I will do our best to distract the pilot so you can make contact with and subdue her, if you command it.”

“I could just use my telekinesis to bring her within your reach, Master,” Jean said to Mark. “The… field emanating from the craft seems tailored specifically to block telepathic abilities, likely to prevent the pilot from being **** to land and turn over valuable Wakandan technology. There aren’t any countermeasures for my telekinesis, aside from vibranium's innate ability to absorb kinetic energy. I could easily wreck the craft's internal systems or suffocate the pilot, if you wished."

“You’d harm her if I wanted?” Mark asked, disturbed yet oddly aroused by the idea of having a powerful woman like Jean wrapped around his finger to that extent.

Jean walked up to him. She put an extra sway in her step as she did so, causing her wide hips to jut out obscenely. Her huge breasts jiggled within the tight confines of her tight uniform.

Jesus, she’s gorgeous.

“Ororo was right when she told Scott that I’d hang on your every word, waiting for you tell me what to do and how to think. I’d do anything you wanted, Master, be anything you wanted,” the older woman bit her lip and looked up at him with seductive green eyes. “You’re like a god to me; more powerful than Thanos or the Phoenix.”

Mark felt his cheeks flush. A tremor of arousal spiked to the tip of his cock.

Did Jean really just compare me to a god?

The older woman simply smiled at him and nodded.

“You really shouldn’t be reading my mind, Jean,” he said without really meaning it. He was comfortable around Jean; her earlier willingness to humiliate her own husband to satisfy the sexual whims of a teenage boy had cemented the reality of his control over her in his mind. That the heroine had also violated the minds of countless innocent people in the mall had been the icing on the cake.

Jean pouted. “But I like knowing what you wish of me the second you consider it. It helps me be a better servant. Please-”

Mark reached a hand behind Jean to spank her thinly-clothed bubble butt.

“Oh!” Jean’s cheeks reddened. “I can’t believe you just… You… you’re unbelievable, you know that, Master?”

Mark merely quirked an eyebrow at the gorgeous redhead and jabbed a finger into the side of her waist.

“Ah!” Jean flinched away from his hand, giggling as Mark pursued her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her into his chest. She stopped squirming immediately and let out a pleased sigh.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Jean. Flaunting your sexy body in that skintight outfit and then reading my mind. Did you think there wouldn’t be any consequences?” Mark whispered into her ear. He stuck his tongue out and licked her earlobe.

The older woman moaned softly and pressed her juicy bubble butt against Mark’s clothed erection.

“Y-you’re right. I’ve been a very bad girl,” she whimpered. “I can’t help it though. My husband never taught me how to behave. I need you to show me my place; to tell me how to act and to discipline me when I do something wrong.”

“I didn’t want to have to take on this kind of responsibility, but I guess it can’t be helped,” Mark said. He eyed her crimson locks. He laced his left hand in it, wrapping her hair around his fingers.

Such a beautiful shade of red…

“Since you’re… incapable of being responsible, I’ll just have to spend more time with you to get you straightened out,” Mark said.

“M-my lord,” Scott interrupted, a faint undercurrent of nervousness in his voice. Mark turned his head to face him. Scott continued, “Although I love it when you and Jean tease each other and I wouldn’t presume to determine how things should go moving forward, I recommend that we focus on the Wakandan pilot for now.”

Mark merely nodded at Scott while he possessively ran his hands over the man’s wife. “You’re right, Scott. Be ready for anything.”

“Yes, my lord,” Scott bowed. His cyclopean gaze lingered meaningfully on Jean and Mark for a moment. He bit his lip and resumed his vigil.

“To be continued?” Mark asked Jean.

Jean smiled as she turned to face him, showing perfectly white teeth. “Definitely.”

The faint hum of the Wakandan craft grew louder as it landed on the green grass. A hissing sound filled the air and ramp extended downwards from the belly of the aircraft. A woman stepped down the ramp and onto the grass. She had skin a shade or so darker than Ororo's. Her head was shaved bald except on the back, where a black-haired ponytail jutted out. Her dark, piercing brown eyes were all that marred a gorgeous exotic face.

She’s tall. And holy shit, she’s almost naked!

The dark-skinned Wakandan woman had a truly Amazonian physique. Rippling muscles bulged along her bare thick thighs. She wore what could only be called a rag to cover her big chocolate breasts that danced and jiggled as she walked with her held held high like a soldier. She wore a dark brown loincloth around her waist, concealing her sex. On her arms and legs she wore bright vambraces and shin guards that shined with the same non-reflective silverish tint as the aircraft. Mark wondered if they were vibranium.

Mark stared at the woman's toned midriff and caught the faint pink outline of jagged scars along the surface of her flesh. He could see why T'Challa had sent her. The warrior woman looked capable of handling herself and would likely intimidate most people, especially with the large sword strapped to her back. To Mark, though, those qualities made her a more appetizing candidate for enslavement.

The woman stopped in front of Ororo and seemed to size her up.

"It's nice to see you again, Aneka," Ororo said.

The Wakandan woman now revealed to be Aneka merely glared at Ororo.

"I cannot say the same for you, outsider. I disapproved of your... union with our King when you were last in our kingdom. That has not changed."

"I didn't expect that it would," Ororo said, a small smile on her face. "That isn't what this is about. T'Challa-"

Aneka's glare intensified. Ororo shrugged it off, nonplussed.

"T'Challa and I are ancient history and I have no intention of changing that."

The Wakandan woman's eyes widened momentarily before she schooled her features. She gave Ororo a look of what Mark thought might be begrudging respect.

"Your words hold no deception," Aneka said.

"I was never much of a liar. You should know that by now," Ororo said.

Aneka gave her a lengthy stare before nodding almost imperceptibly.

[Are you ready, Mark?] A foreign voice manifested itself in his mind. He looked to Jean and nodded.

[Okay. I've scanned Aneka's mind. She has some rudimentary mental barriers in place, but they're nothing I can't handle. Stay close to me just in case. I'm fully capable of shielding our presence from humans, but machines are a little beyond my powerset.] She eyed the still-humming Wakandan aircraft warily.

[You couldn't do anything to shield us from security cameras?] Mark sent back.

Jean's look grew pensive. [I do know a trick that could come in handy. I can use telekinesis to bend the light around us to make us invisible, but that won't do anything to fool thermal scanners. Sorry, Master.]

[No need to be sorry, Jean. That's actually pretty amazing.]

[Thank you. That means a lot to me.] Jean replied. She glanced at Aneka and narrowed her eyes slightly.

Aneka's eyes seemed to lose their piercing intensity and her posture became more relaxed. She stopped scanning the environment around her. It was as if she suddenly had the notion that she weren't in the middle of a foreign country and had no reason to be cautious.

[I've put Aneka's cognitive abilities into a limited standby mode. She won't notice us if we step out from the treeline and approach her. Do you want to do that or do you want me to have her walk over here? Or should I just reprogram her outright?] Jean said telepathically.

Mark's expression turned thoughtful.

I'd like to deal with Aneka myself. It feels more... intimate when I use my powers on a person instead of letting Jean do all the work. Then again, it'd probably be quicker and easier to just have Jean reprogram Aneka like she suggested and we could be underway to Wakanda faster. What to do, what to do.