"Betsy," Scott said hoarsely, "that's my shirt."
Her almond eyes glowed as Betsy stripped off the garment, the only clothes she wore, managing the peculiar trick of conveying the excitement of following his orders while making it clear she had only been given permission to do as she enthusiastically wanted. That, more than anything else, stuck in Emma and Jean's craw.
"Now, wait just a minute," Jean began, face flushed and a little sweaty. "I never said you
couldn't
spank me..."
Emma was more direct, running a hand between her naked breasts and turning her whole body into a display of challenging insouciance. "So you're not going to punish me? No matter how much of a bad girl I've been? I thought you were ready to be a daddy..."
Naked, displaying a justified pride in her perfect body, Betsy pushed past both of them to go to Scott. With even more directness than Emma, she wrapped her fingers around his cockhead, running them down from his glans to the base of his prick, then letting them trace over his hairy balls.
"Taking this John Thomas hurts too good to be a punishment," she cooed.
Scott took her by the wrist and gently twisted her hand away, making it clear that no matter how skillful she was, he would be calling the shots. He pulled her body against his, smashing his lips to hers. Her tongue darted into his mouth and she moaned as it was sucked on.
"Well, it's a good
start,"
Emma said snidely, glancing at Jean in actual commiseration. She ran a finger along Betsy's bare back. "But it's high time for us to join in."
Jean smirked naughtily as she reached down to cup Betsy's ass. "Yes... we know
all about
being punished by that 'John Thomas'... we'll show you how it's done."
Still kissing Scott, Betsy's hands lashed up, two psi-blades glowing purple as she drove them into Jean and Emma's skulls. The two women let out undignified grunts as they went down semiconscious. Scott reached past Betsy to grab them both, his hands collaring their throats, and he gently lowered the two to the kitchen's linoleum tile.
"Was that really necessary?" he asked.
Betsy smirked. "You know all my psi-blades do is disrupt brain functions an eensy bit. They'll be fine. But it wouldn't be a punishment if they got to do more than watch."
Grinning wickedly, she toed Emma so that the blonde laid against the kitchen island, upright and staring blankly ahead. Another kick and Jean was doing the same.
"Still," Scott persisted, ever the peacemaker, "psi-bolts seem a bit much for the bedroom."
"We're not in the bedroom," Betsy pointed out. "And I don't think two members of the Hellfire Club have room to complain about a little kink. They can still hear and see everything we do—they can even get turned on—they just can't do anything about it. I think that's a pretty big incentive to be a good girl, don't you?"
"I think you just want me all to yourself."
Betsy raised an eyebrow. "Maybe." She went to the kitchen nook, sitting down on the little table in full view of the paralyzed Jean and Emma. Teasingly, she crossed her long slender legs in front of them. "But you don't
have
to fuck me... breed me... make me your slutty little
bint
..."