The New Mutants, Captive [pt. II]

The ballroom of the Royal Palace in Birnan Zana had been transformed into a strange, unsettling blend of luxury and captivity. The grand, ornate space was filled with rows of plush beds, each adorned with silk sheets and embroidered pillows. The opulence clashed with the oppressive atmosphere, making it difficult for the students to feel at ease. Soft music played in the background, creating a false sense of serenity that only heightened the tension.

The students were scattered around the ballroom, each dealing with their captivity in their own way. Hisako sat on the edge of her bed, still wrestling with the implications of their situation. Pixie was chatting with one of the maids, who was offering her a tray of exotic fruits and pastries. Magik stood near the entrance, her arms crossed over her chest, her sharp eyes glaring at the two brawny Black guards standing to either side of the doors. Spyke and Sunspot were deep in conversation, while Wolfsbane paced nervously, her keen senses on high alert. Prodigy sat quietly, his brow furrowed as he processed the flood of information that came with his power.

But the peace was abruptly shattered when Magik's voice, laced with fury, cut through the air.

“What the hell are you doing, Julian?” she demanded, her Russian accent thickening with anger.

All heads turned towards the far corner of the ballroom, where Hellion—Julian Keller—was lounging on one of the beds. His position wasn't the issue. It was the two maids with him. One was kneeling between his legs, her head bobbing rhythmically as she pleasured him, while the other was straddling his chest, her lips locked with his in a deep, hungry kiss.

The room fell silent, the shock of the scene rendering the others momentarily speechless. Hellion, noticing the sudden attention, broke the kiss and smirked at Magik, his expression cocky and unapologetic.

"What's the matter, Illyana?" he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Jealous?"

Magik's eyes blazed with righteous fury as she marched over to him, her fists clenched at her sides. "This isn’t a joke, Julian! Those women—they can't consent! They're being controlled, manipulated! This isn’t right!"

The maid between Hellion's legs paused, glancing up at Magik with a puzzled expression. "Miss Illyana," she said softly, her voice gentle and sweet even as her hand cradled the stiff and slender saliva-slicked cock she had been attending to, "Please, do not worry. We maids, we Markandans are not being controlled. We are here to serve. And it is an honor to serve Hellion. He has been blessed with such an elegant mutant member, perfect in every way. I am honored to have been chosen to tend to it. It’s our duty and our pleasure to serve the mutant race in any way we can. Our nation's purpose is to ensure the survival and flourishing of mutantkind as Bast's children."

Hellion grinned widely at that, clearly enjoying the praise. The maid bent back down and resumed her task, licking and sucking his shaft with eagerness and devotion. The other maid perched beside him smiled faintly, her fingers tracing light circles on his bare chest as she leaned in and nuzzled his neck.

Hellion smirked again. "Exactly," he said, his tone mocking. "They're into it, and it's not like they're being ****. So, if you'll excuse us..."

Magik’s expression darkened further, her fury barely contained. “You idiot! They’ve been brainwashed by Mark and his telepaths! They may act like they have free will, but everything they do is because they’ve been programmed to believe it’s their duty to serve us—in every way. You think this is consent? This is exploitation, Julian!”

The room was tense, the other students watching the confrontation with varying degrees of shock, discomfort, and anger. Spyke clenched his fists, his jaw tight with suppressed rage. Sunspot looked away, his face troubled, while Wolfsbane’s eyes were wide with horror. Prodigy’s expression was unreadable, but his silence spoke volumes. Hisako was very uncomfortably thinking about a certain maid's offer.

Hellion scoffed, his smirk unwavering. "And what if it isn't? What if they're just into mutants? What if it’s not mind control, but a natural attraction? Ever think of that?"

Spyke frowned even as he stared at the tight-bodied Black beauty's lips sliding up and down Hellion's length, bony offshoots extending fitfully from his forearms and shoulders with his emotional intensity. "It's messed up, man! Even if it is some kind of attraction, they're clearly not in control of themselves! It's like they're puppets or something!"

Sunspot nodded emphatically, his dark skin glowing with a fiery golden hue that reflected his agitation. "It's wrong. We're training to be X-Men! This isn't what we're about!"

"Enough!" Magik's voice was cold and deadly. "You’re disgusting, Julian. You think just because you’re a mutant, it gives you the right to treat these women like playthings? To justify what’s clearly wrong?"

The maid pressed to Hellion’s chest leaned back slightly, her expression serene. “Magik,” she said softly, “we’re not being ****. We understand the importance of our role. We choose to serve in this way because we believe in the future of mutantkind. We’re here to protect and nurture it, in every way possible.”

Magik’s eyes narrowed, and she shook her head, her voice filled with cold resolve. “You’re not in your right minds. None of this is normal, and deep down, you know it. Mark’s twisted everything, made you think this is what you want. But it’s not real. It’s all just... a perversion of free will.”

Hellion rolled his eyes, clearly done with the argument. "You know what, Illyana? You’re just pissed because you’re not getting any. Don’t try to guilt-trip me for enjoying myself. These girls are hot, willing, and into it. Who am I to say no?"

Magik’s fists clenched, her knuckles white as she struggled to keep her temper in check. "You’re a disgrace to the X-Men," she spat. "You’re no better than Mark if you keep doing this."

Hellion, however, remained defiant. “You can think whatever you want, Magik. But we’re stuck here, and I’m not going to pretend I’m not enjoying the perks of this messed-up situation. If they want to worship us, who am I to say no?”

Magik’s hand clenched around the hilt of her Soulsword, the urge to strike him down overwhelming. But she held back, knowing that **** would only make things worse. Instead, she took a deep breath, her voice low and deadly serious. “You’re playing right into Mark’s hands, Hellion. He wants us divided, wants us to lose our humanity. And you’re doing exactly that.”

Hellion scoffed, waving her off dismissively. “Whatever. I'm not a fucking human. You do you, Magik. I’ll do me.”

Magik stared at him for a long moment, her blue eyes burning with righteous fury. Then, with a disgusted snarl, she turned on her heel and walked away, her heart heavy with the knowledge that they were already losing the battle—not just against Mark, but against themselves.

The maids, seemingly unperturbed by the confrontation, returned to their task with renewed enthusiasm, their soft moans filling the air once more. The rest of the group watched in stunned silence, the reality of their situation sinking in deeper with every passing second.

Hisako exchanged a worried glance with Sunspot, who shook his head slightly, a silent message of “Let it go.”

But Hisako knew that this was just the beginning. The cracks in their unity were starting to show, and if they weren’t careful, they would shatter completely.

As the tension in the room settled into an uneasy silence, Hisako made a silent vow. She would find a way to get through to the others, to remind them of who they were and what they stood for. Because if they lost that—if they lost themselves—then Mark had already won.