The Mind of the White Queen, Discreetly Double-Teamed...

"I gotta get some more ass."

Jean and Betsy's eyes fluttered as the words sank deep into their brains and settled there. Unbeknownst to Ethan, a crackle of telepathic energy arced between the pair, synchronising their minds to better support their new desires. No longer were they merely teammates - now, Jean Gray and Betsy Braddock had all of the memories of slutty psychic spouses, from retreating into their shared psychosphere during long flights on the Blackbird to their friendly contest to capture the heart (and cock) of Scott Summers. By day, they restricted themselves to emotional reinforcement and the occasional lovey-dovey burst of mental power - by night, they dove into lurid and lewd mindscapes to twerk for hordes of hung studs and gape their assholes with marathons of booty-clapping, brain-snapping buttsex.

To their warped memories, even being bent over and broken in by Ethan's matchless monstercock had only made their bond stronger; Jean and Betsy's shared fantasies of anal porn superstardom were closer than ever, the pre-drooling cock of fame and fortune already prodding at the twitching rear holes of the pair's already glamorous lives. They would do anything - do anyone - for him. So it was no surprise when, after they had dressed and had time to process Ethan's delirious remark, they shared the same thought.

We've gotta get him some more ASS!

"Ass! Ass! Ass! Ass!"

"Well if that's what you want..." the MC drawled, dragging out the last word until the crowd's chanting had died down to an anticipatory hush. He snapped his fingers and Emma dropped her illusion. The haze from the stage's smoke projectors swirled and disappeared as two women appeared flanking the MC. Clad only in skimpy latex bandeau tops that matched their hair and left plenty of their prodigious breasts spilling both over and under, stretched-tight denim booty shorts that practically vanished between their enormous ass cheeks and battered sneakers, Jean Grey and Betsy Braddock looked every inch the pair of back-alley skanks.

With coy smiles, they strutted up to the MC and each gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Emma turned away from the railing overlooking the club floor and headed back into the VIP lounge. A dozen finely dressed men and women lay sprawled out on the couches around the room, blank-eyed and drooling as her telepathic powers smothered their minds with lurid fantasies - here, a man receiving an oily buttjob as she let him grope her chest from behind; there, a woman furiously jilling off to the sight of Emma twirling around a pole. All of these people - politicians, industrialists, financiers - fancied themselves to be powerful, using that power to compel her into lewd and lurid behaviour, but the truth was that the situation was quite the reverse. They were all under her power.

Under the power of her ASS.

ASS ruled everything, and her ASS ruled more than any other. All of the most powerful female telepaths possessed incredible rears befitting their incredible power, but only three women could contest the top spot. Now, both of her rivals worked the crowds below like the low-class bitches they were, while the White Queen held the strings of government and high society. She may not have enjoyed the life-and-**** authority over her subordinates that she had had at the Hellfire Club, but the White Queen's power was now unmatched in its scope. Inch by glorious, skirt-ripping inch, the weight of her ASS would settle on the world and subordinate it to her whims. All would serve her...

And then?

Well, that was obvious. ASS ruled everything, and ASS wanted to be fucked. Emma wanted to be fucked. Emma wanted to be fucked up the ASS by the biggest cock she had ever seen. She wanted to be fucked where everybody could see it. She was a Porn-Slut. She was... was a... a goddess! Emma's chest heaved with each ragged breath as her mind struggled to reconcile her ego with the irresistible logic of anal exhibitionism. She deserved to be worshiped, to be treated like a-

Emma squatted on the stage, Jean on her left and Betsy on her right. The two women smiled lipstick-smeared grins at the sight of her, squatting on the balls of her tiptoes in the ratty sneakers, wholly insufficient booty shorts and white bandeau top of a bona-fide back-alley skank. That wasn't right! She should be melting aristocratic brains, not wasting her ASS on a crowd of- *SMACK* Her Master's cock, the biggest cock she had ever seen, slammed down onto her face with the **** of a meteor strike. Emma's indignation was obliterated as the monolith of spit-slick flesh crushed any thought of rebellion, indelibly imprinting on her mind the knowledge that she wasn't up on stage to titillate the crowd, she was up there to be her Master's Porn-Slu- No! She wasn't just another Porn-Slut, she was the White Queen! She was the Goddess of Anal! She was the star of her Master's stable, she was without compare, she was-

"-cumming! Ooooohhh f-fuck! Fuck my ASS!" Emma's pussy juices sprayed unimpeded from her snatch, one of her hands fisted in her sheets while the other drove two fingers into her asshole. Face-down and ass-up, just like a good little Porn-Slut should be, she kept fingerblasting her ass well past the point of no return, cumming over and over again until her squirt ran dry and she could no longer muster the strength to move. Lying there, brain fried by a masturbatory marathon, she couldn't see the butt-prints of Jean Grey and Psylocke all over the sharp turn towards anal addiction that her idle fantasy of control had taken, nor feel her earliest memories of shaking her ass for the Hellfire Club sharpen and grow fonder. Or, when she finally mustered the will to rise for the morning and dress for the day, the **** ease with which she selected her tightest pair of pants.

Apparently, Jean and Scott had brought in a potential recruit the day before, and she was looking forward to getting his measure.