πŸ“š sensational sluts Part 4 of 5
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Sensational Sluts Pt 04

Sensational Sluts Pt 04

by hardlyquinn
19 min read
4.78 (1500 views)
adultfiction
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Emma Frost entered the Vixen's Den without a word. She was dressed in her old Hellfire Club gear - a corset that thrust her tits upwards, an obscenely small white thong, and a large white fur-lined cloak. Despite the outfit, the bouncer looked right through her - saw nothing but air - as she used her powers to turn off his mind while she passed. Emma didn't need fake IDs or fast talk. Just a mental whisper to control him.

Inside, the club was a cathedral of decadence. Pink lights pulsed against sweat-slicked skin. Music throbbed like a heartbeat. Tits and money and glitter flew in every direction. Emma stood out, not just because of her outfit, but because of her posture, her attitude - in this palace of filth and poverty, she seemed somehow above it all. Her telepathy wrapped around her like silk - a mental projection of her absence. It was no effort to bend the feeble, pliant minds around her. The crowd parted unconsciously, the dancers didn't blink, the staff kept serving drinks. She was invisible.

She moved like someone who already owned the place. Soon, she would.

Her mind reached out, slow and precise, skimming the surface thoughts around her like fingers on piano keys. Lust. Greed. Hunger. Stupidity. Weak, flickering things. Easy to ignore. But deeper in the building - upstairs, behind a velvet curtain - she felt the heat. Three minds, flickering in sync. Slick with arousal. Drenched in shame and want and pleasure so loud it nearly deafened her. Beneath it, tiny flickers of selfhood - fragile, gasping for air.

Sue.

Rogue.

Harley.

Emma's lip curled in a cruel smirk.

"Oh my, girls," she murmured, threading her way toward the stairs. "What a mess you've made of yourselves."

Emma moved up the stairs slowly, savoring every click of her heels. The moans got louder the higher she climbed - breathless, animalistic sounds, soaked in need. The bass faded, but the rhythm of wet, frantic bodies didn't stop.

Outside the VIP area, she paused. Closed her eyes.

Inside, Sue was on her back. Legs spread. Panting. Her body transformed into a walking wet dream - tits obscene, lips pouty, hips pornographically curvy. Rogue was naked and furiously rubbing herself in a corner, eyes glassy, mouth open. Harley was riding an invisible cock, giggling through her own madness.

So this was what Reed hadn't been able to say out loud. He'd made it sound so clinical.

The Invisible Woman - so proper, so polished, always holding herself just a little too upright, like even gravity had to obey her sense of decorum - now reduced to a cum-soaked exhibitionist, grinding out orgasms in front of strangers just to feel her own name again. God, it was beautiful.

Emma had been there once. Years ago. Before the Frost name was worth a damn, before the mansions and the diamond skin, back when the only thing between her and starvation was a pair of stilettos and a pole. She remembered the stares. The bills. The heat. The grind. She knew how degrading it could feel if you didn't enjoy it. How women like Sue would judge her.

But Emma had owned it. Beat it. Become the White Queen. She'd made the stage her kingdom and expanded it to encompass the entire city.

But Sue Richards wasn't there yet.

Emma let out a quiet, amused breath through her nose. "You always thought you were better than me, Susan," she murmured. "But look at you now. Just another horny little fuckdoll trying not to drown in her own tits."

The moans spiked - Sue was close again.

Emma rolled her eyes.

"Time to clean up," she whispered, and with a flick of her will, she dropped the mental invisibility like a curtain.

The three girls finally saw her.

Sue's head jerked up mid-orgasm, blonde hair clinging to her sweat-slick cheeks, mouth still parted in a moan. Rogue's fingers froze between her legs. Harley gasped and blinked like she'd just remembered she had a name. They saw her - really saw her - and all three of them lit up with pure, hungry recognition.

"Emmmmma!" Harley squealed, scrambling to her feet and practically bouncing toward her. "Ohmygod, you came! We were just talkin' about how much we wanted you!"

Rogue was next, eyes wide and hazy, breasts heaving as she stumbled forward. "You feelin' the itch too, sugar? Come join us - we'll take real good care of ya..."

Sue said nothing - just stared, panting, one trembling hand pressed between her thighs. Emma didn't flinch. Didn't blink. She simply thought. The air pulsed. Everyone around them stopped.

Every man in the club froze mid-cheer, mid-stroke, mid-whatever. Rogue halted mid-step. Harley dropped to her knees, mouth still open. Sue's body tensed, caught in the aftershock of orgasm, muscles straining to move - and failing.

Only Emma stood free.

She walked slowly toward them, heels clicking on the stage, expression unreadable. She looked like a monarch surveying her broken court.

"God, look at you," she said softly. "The mighty, the brave, the untouchable - dripping, desperate, and dumb as bricks. Let's see if we can't find Ms. Richards in that horny little sex doll body." She psychically reached in and brought Sue - the real Sue - to the surface.

Sue's lip curled. "Emma. It would be you, wouldn't it. Did you do this?"

Emma smiled - all teeth. "Oh Susan, you flatter yourself. I'm here because - as usual - your husband had to turn to another woman for satisfaction after you couldn't do the job."

Sue snarled. "Bitch!"

Emma laughed.

Rogue whimpered.

Harley giggled, drooling a little.

Sue forced herself to speak, her voice hoarse, cold. "You think this makes you better than us?"

Emma crouched in front of her, eyes glittering like cut glass. "No, darling. I always knew I was better. But I enjoy watching you finding out that you're not."

She let that hang in the air. Then stood. Straightened her gloves.

"Still, since you're so eager to act like my little toy, I may as well treat you like one. My mental control is the only thing keeping you coherent right now. Come along, girls."

With a flick of thought, she unspooled her telepathy like a whip - not intrusive, not painful - just dominant. A leash of willpower wrapped tight around each girl's mind. Not to harm. Not to erase. Just to hold.

They shuddered under it. Eyes wide. Bodies twitching, not from fear - but from the hot, involuntary rush of obedience. The virus already made them submissive and Emma's dominance was irresistable at the best of times.

Emma looked down at Sue, who still knelt on the stage like a fallen saint, her transformed body gleaming under the lights. She knelt, leaned in close, and whispered - so only Sue could hear: "I'm here to help, darling, but whatever's happened to you is so powerful. I'll have to apologise to Reed for being unable to stop you fucking that guy."

Sue's breath caught in her throat.

"But I haven't... I mean Rogue and Harley were one thing but, Reed's the only... Emma, please..." She practically sobbed. "I'm married."

Emma's eyes flashed.

Now this was therapy.

Sue glared up at Emma, still panting, her face flushed from orgasm and rage. She clenched her jaw like she could bite her way out of the virus, her fingers trembling with effort. "You don't get to do this. We need help. Not a fucking power trip."

Emma laughed softly - not cruelly, but with the slow, rich amusement of someone utterly unbothered. "Oh, Susan. You don't call me for help without paying a price."

Sue's breath hitched. "Reed wouldn't want-"

"Reed doesn't even know what to do with you anymore," Emma cut in, sharp as glass. "He begged me to come because you're falling apart - tits out, pussy soaked, putting on shows for strangers just to think straight."

She leaned in, just enough that Sue could feel the heat of her voice.

"You need someone to make the choices now."

Sue tried to rise - to speak, maybe, to fight - but Emma didn't let her. Instead, she turned toward the frozen crowd. A subtle pulse of telepathy radiated out - not to the minds of the men, but to Sue. Forcing her attention. Guiding her gaze. To him.

A tall man near the front row - black, massive, shirtless, cock already hard and heavy between his legs. Built like a statue of lust. His mind wasn't strong - easy to hold still - but his body? It was everything Reed wasn't. Wide. Dark. Rough. A virtual adonis just sitting here in the strip club, dick already out. God, it's his lucky day, Emma thought.

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Emma's smile never wavered. "You want control so badly, Susan? Prove you still have it." Another flick of thought - and the man moved. He stepped forward, blank-eyed, slow and graceful, like a dream. Emma pulled up a chair on stage then used her mind control to sit the man on it. Hard. Huge. Topless with a thick cock thrusting upwards like a perfect dildo. Wet. Leaking.

Sue's eyes went wide. "Emma-"

"No telepathy," Emma said. "No coercion. He's yours to ride or refuse."

She leaned down, whispered close to Sue's neck.

"But if you say no... I'll bring up every man in this club, one by one, and we'll see how long you last."

Sue trembled. Her breath came in ragged bursts, thighs twitching with need and nausea, her whole body betraying her with every second that passed. The virus still throbbed inside her like a second heartbeat. Her cunt ached. Her mind screamed.

She looked up at Emma. "I hate you."

Emma just smirked. "No you don't, darling. You envy me."

Sue was trembling now - not from fear. From heat. From the pressure in her cunt. From the shame of how good it all felt. The man in front of her waited silently, thick cock hanging heavy between his thighs, still glistening with anticipation. His eyes were blank, but his body - his presence - filled the room.

"You want to say no," Emma murmured in her ear, "I'd even let you. But your pussy's already made the decision."

Sue clenched her fists. "This is wrong."

Emma laughed softly. "Oh, you poor little wretch. Maybe it's wrong, maybe not, but remember - this is the virus's doing. I know you've wanted this for years, but now you get the gift of deniability. You didn't choose this. You were infected. You're not cheating. You're just... surviving."

Sue let out a soft, shuddering breath.

She stepped forward.

Her hands moved like they didn't belong to her - up the man's chest, down his abs, fingers curling around his cock. He was huge. Hot. Hard in a way Reed never was. She hated the thrill it sent through her. Hated how wet it made her.

She straddled him, lowered herself slowly, the tip pressing into her slick folds. Her eyes fluttered shut as it pushed inside - stretching her, filling her, making her gasp.

"Oh fuck-" she moaned, the word punched out of her lungs.

Emma watched from behind, arms folded, one brow raised. "That's it, Susan. Take what you need."

Rogue whimpered from the side of the stage, rubbing herself against the floor. "Fuckin' hell, that's hot..."

Harley moaned, bouncing in place. "Can I be next? Please can I be next?!"

Sue didn't answer.

She was bouncing now - riding the thug in slow, desperate thrusts, her hands on his chest, her face twisted in a mix of pain and ecstasy. Each thrust dragged a broken moan from her lips. Each bounce made her tits jiggle, her breath hitch, her cunt clench. He filled parts of her she'd never felt stretched before. Her fingers dug into his tight, muscular shoulders as she squeezed her thighs around him, bouncing, bucking, screaming.

She imagined Reed watching.

Imagined the look on his face.

Imagined him getting hard watching her cheat on him...

Her orgasm hit like a thunderclap - deep, electric, body-jerking. She collapsed against the man's chest, gasping, her pussy still twitching around his cock.

Emma stepped forward and knelt beside her.

"You're welcome," she whispered.

Sue didn't answer. Couldn't.

Harley clapped like a kid at Christmas. "Okay okay okay me next pleeeeease-"

Rogue crawled to the edge of the stage, eyes locked on the man's cock still glistening from Sue. "Ah'll beg. Ah'll do anything."

Emma turned slowly. "You'll wait your turn." Her eyes gleamed. "Now we play by my rules."

Harley was already halfway across the stage - tits bouncing, eyes wide, hair stuck to her neck with sweat and glitter. She was panting like a dog, crawling now, wiggling her ass as she came up beside Emma, smiling like she'd just won the lottery.

"Please, Emsy," she whined, rubbing her cheek against Emma's boots like a kitten in heat. "I've been so good. I didn't even touch myself while Suzie was gettin' ruined - and I wanted to. Sooo bad."

Emma looked down at her - eyes cool, unreadable. "Is that what you want, Harley? To be ruined?"

Harley nodded eagerly. "Ruin me, queenie. Break me. Put me in a blender and pour me over your fuckin' tits."

Emma raised an eyebrow.

Then she crouched - slow, controlled - and cupped Harley's chin in one gloved hand. "You know what your problem is?"

Harley blinked. "Too much charisma?"

"You want to be used," Emma said softly. "But you don't want to surrender. You think you're still the one calling the shots. You think being a horny little joke is a choice."

Harley's lips parted, eyes flickering with something confused - almost nervous.

"You're not ready to be a toy," Emma continued, thumb stroking the corner of her mouth. "You're still performing."

She stood. "Let's fix that."

With a flick of her fingers - and a pulse of mental energy - Harley froze in place, bent on all fours like a stripper doll on standby.

Emma turned to the crowd - still frozen, still watching.

And she spoke to Harley's mind.

Take off your mind, pet. Let it melt. You don't need it here.

Harley shivered. No more clever quips. No more act. Just a dumb little hole, aching for attention.

Harley moaned - loud and ragged - hips twitching in the air as drool spilled from the corner of her mouth. Her body writhed, but her eyes had gone glassy. Empty. Finally, real. Emma walked behind her.

"Let's see if you're still so funny with my hand around your throat."

Harley trembled on all fours, her chest rising and falling in shallow, panting bursts. Drool dripped from her mouth to the stage below, forming messy little splashes on the glowing floor. Her knees slipped wider apart - unbidden - ass raised, thighs gleaming with wetness.

Emma circled her slowly.

"She's already leaking," she said aloud, one heel tapping near Harley's ear. "Just from being told what she is."

Harley whimpered.

The sound wasn't playful. It wasn't cute. It was real. Raw. Something cracked open inside her. The energy she usually wore like a shield - all jokes and giggles and chaos - was gone. She was shaking now, not from excitement, but from something closer to shame.

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Emma crouched beside her again, elegant even in that predatory pose.

"You want the crowd to see you, don't you?"

Harley nodded. Barely. A twitch of her head.

"You want them to watch while you get fingered like a mutt in heat. You want to cum on the floor like a stripper who never left."

Harley whimpered louder, hips twitching.

Emma leaned in, brushed Harley's tangled hair from her face, and whispered:

"Then show them."

Harley's hands moved - slow, shaking - spreading her cheeks with a desperate moan as her back arched and her soaked cunt winked in the open air. Her mouth worked like she was trying to say something - a joke, maybe. Something clever. But nothing came out. Just a strangled little sob of arousal.

She'd never looked more pathetic. Or more honest.

Emma stood again, towering over her, arms crossed, face calm.

"Good girl," she said, voice soft as silk. "Now crawl. One circle. Show them what they're paying for."

Harley began to crawl - knees scraping the stage, tits swaying, breath ragged. She couldn't stop drooling. Couldn't stop twitching. Her eyes rolled as she humped the air with every forward movement, more like an animal than a woman.

"Lower," Emma commanded. "Mouth to the floor."

Harley obeyed instantly. Bent lower. Tongue out. Moaning now with every inch.

Rogue watched from the edge of the stage, thighs clamped together, hand shoved between her legs. "Shit," she breathed. "That's... fuck. That's so fuckin' hot."

Emma didn't look at her.

She reached out with her mind - just a little - and flooded Harley with sensation.

No fingers. No toys. Just a direct, mental push against every button at once - pleasure poured into her like a faucet turned to high. Her eyes flew open, then crossed, tongue lolling out.

She collapsed on her side, legs kicking, screaming as she came - loud, humiliating, messy. Piss-hot pleasure soaked the floor beneath her. She squirted, shuddered, shook like a broken toy.

Emma watched, impassive.

Harley twitched on the floor, body jerking in little spasms. Her mouth opened and closed.

"thank you" she finally slurred.

Emma smiled faintly.

"You're welcome, pet."

Rogue was already kneeling when Emma turned toward her - breathless, flushed, hand still wedged between her thighs. Her body quivered with leftover restraint. She looked up at Emma like a worshipper, lips parted, eyes gleaming.

"Ah'm ready," she whispered. "Please, Miss Frost. Take me apart too."

Emma's head tilted slightly.

"So eager," she said, voice like silk over steel. "So desperate to be ruined. Almost makes me want to give you what you want."

Rogue nodded quickly. "Ah'll do whatever you say. Be whoever you need me to be."

"Oh, I know, darling," Emma murmured. "That's the problem."

She stepped forward slowly - heels silent this time, like a predator nearing a kill. She crouched, bringing her face level with Rogue's, eyes cool, sharp, unreadable.

"You think submission is cute. Romantic. You're still fantasising about it - about what it means to be chosen, to be loved through your obedience. You've had control of your powers for so long but really, you still want to be touched."

Rogue's breath caught. "Ah-"

Emma pressed one finger to her lips.

"You don't want to be broken. You want to be held while I break you. You want permission. Affection. Maybe even forgiveness."

Rogue's eyes flickered - flickered - just for a second.

And that was all Emma needed.

"No, Rogue," she said softly. "I don't do aftercare. I do obedience. I don't want your devotion. I want your silence."

Rogue shuddered.

Emma stood and turned away - and in that heartbeat, Rogue sagged, relief and arousal mingling.

Then Emma struck.

A snap of mental command. A chain of will that wrapped around Rogue's thoughts and slammed them shut. Her body stiffened - then jerked violently as Emma triggered a flood of sensation so intense it nearly blacked her out.

Her eyes went wide.

Her mouth opened.

But no sound came.

Emma muted her - completely.

Rogue's body began to move on its own, hips jerking, back arching, legs spreading as Emma puppeted her like a ragdoll. The force of it made her body twitch in involuntary rhythm - hands slapping her own thighs, mouth stretched open in a silent, guttural scream.

No words. No breath. Just motion and shame.

She squirted across the stage - legs flailing, body convulsing like she'd been hit with a live wire - and all she could do was feel it. No voice. No climax cry. Just silent, soaking degradation.

Emma looked back down at her - glowing, shaking, mute.

"That's better," she said. "Now you're not pretending anymore."

Harley moaned from the floor, watching, tears streaming down her face as she humped the air again.

Sue sat slumped against the stage pole, breathing hard, body still dripping from her last betrayal - and now watching Rogue fall even deeper.

Emma stood above them all.

Three heroines.

Three fuckdolls.

Emma had beaten them all without breaking a sweat. It was fun, of course, but the virus meant there wasn't much sport in it. She sighed, almost as if she was bored. "Okay, I suppose that'll do for now." she asserted to herself. "Let's clear this place out."

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