Are You Kidding? (Jean Grey/Emma Frost)
Title: Are You Kidding?
Claim: X-Men Fandom
Pairing: Jean Grey/Emma Frost
Prompt: #18, Paddle
“All right, class dismissed,” Jean said with a smile as the last bell of the day rang out.
The students couldn’t get out of the room fast enough - it was Friday!
Jean turned to Emma Frost, who had been observing the lesson. “So the reason we-“ Jean started to explain something but was cut off.
“I’m well aware,” Emma interrupted with a wave of her hand. “And I’m well aware of something else, too, that I’d rather not be, but alas, if only we could choose what we hear.” She looked over at the door and it closed with a click.
Jean raised an eyebrow and sat down on the edge of her desk. “And what would that be?” she asked politely.
"My Dolce sunglasses have gone missing. A little bird told me what happened to them.”
Jean laughed. Only Emma could make a pair of sunglasses sound so important.
Emma’s ice blue eyes narrowed. “They were a gift, Jean,” she said stiffly.
“I’m sorry Emma,” Jean replied, shaking her head. “I’ll get you another pair.”
Emma’s teeth clenched as her temper flared. “You do not take things that belong to me!” she shouted. “And you do NOT put my sunglasses up Scott’s ass no matter what the situation seems to call for!”
Emma was furious, and Jean just wanted to die laughing. How could Emma be so upset over a pair of sunglasses, whether they were a gift or not? She’d love to get inside Emma’s head. What a labyrinth of snowflakes must be waiting there. “They’re just sunglasses,” she finally managed to say lamely.
Emma balled her hands into fists and took a measured step closer to Jean. She was upset over more than the sunglasses, but she was not about to explain herself to Jean bloody fucking Grey. She stood for a moment, deciding whether or not to flat-out knock Jean upside the head…
Jean’s face finally turned serious when Emma didn’t say anything. She sighed and pushed off of her desk to stand awkwardly in the silence that stretched between them. “I’m sorry. What more can I say, Emma?”
“Nothing,” Emma said with a quick shake of her head. “But you can do something for me.”
“What’s that?” Jean asked.
“Turn around,” Emma instructed.
Jean hesitantly turned around, finding the request a bit odd.
Emma walked slowly over and stopped just behind Jean. With one quick motion she took Jean by a fistful of hair and bent her over the desk.
Jean gasped as her cheek came into contact with the cool cherry wood. “Ow,” she breathed quietly.
Emma maintained a very tight grip on Jean’s hair, a thrill running through her at the position she had her colleague in. Delicious.
Jean didn’t want to guess what was coming. She closed her eyes and tensed, but nothing happened.
“Jean, get me the paddle from your top drawer,” Emma finally spoke.
A shiver ran through Jean’s body. “Emma, no,” she pleaded. “This kind of punishment is for the children…”
Emma landed a sharp swat to the seat of Jean’s pants. “Now, Jean,” she said sternly.
Jean jumped in surprise and felt a hot blush spread over her face. She couldn’t believe that Emma actually intended to spank her! She was a grown woman and-
“You do not want me to have to go get it,” Emma’s voice interrupted her train of thought.
Jean blushed even darker at the scolding and concentrated on the desk drawer. It opened and she telekinetically lifted the heavy wooden paddle out, floating it to Emma and resisting the urge to smack the back of her head with it.
“I heard that,” Emma said, snatching the paddle out of the air. She leaned over Jean and whispered in her ear. “It’ll cost you.”
It had been a long time since Jean had projected a thought without meaning to, but now was not the time to dwell on it. She could feel Emma’s warm breath tickle her ear and she very much wanted to run away… but she also didn’t. Any student that had done what she’d done would have been paddled by her, so what would it say about her character if she didn’t hold herself to the same standards? At any rate, having Emma so close was unnerving. And apparently her errant thought projection had made it worse? How could it be worse?
Jean’s question was answered when she felt Emma’s hands beneath her, working open the buttons of her Levis. Her breath hitched and she struggled briefly against the indignity.
“Stop it, unless you want to lose the underwear too,” Emma said blandly.
Jean froze, and it was enough for Emma to quickly slide her pants down to her knees. “Are you going to give me trouble, young lady?” Emma asked in her teacher tone.
Jean felt like a damn student, her jeans around her knees, about to get paddled… “I-no,” she answered. “No trouble.”
“No, what?” Emma asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes that Jean of course couldn’t see.
“What? Oh come on Emma!” she protested indignantly, until she felt Emma’s fingers in the waistband of her panties. “No!” she shrieked, her pride warring with her need to not have her naked ass on display to Emma. “No Ma’am!” she forced out quickly. “I won’t be any trouble.”
A self-satisfied smirk pulled at the corners of Emma’s lips. “Good.” She let go of Jean’s panties and rested the paddle against them. “How many do you deserve, little girl?” she asked with a leer at the woman bent over in front of her.
Jean groaned, though a tiny little part of her was enjoying herself despite the humiliation. She chose to ignore that part. “I don’t know, for God’s sake Emma!” she said frustratedly.
Emma raised an eyebrow and in one fluid motion she yanked Jean’s panties down to join her pants and landed a sharp, stinging crack of the paddle on the redhead’s naked backside. “What did you say to me?” she barked.
Jean cried out in pain and gripped the desk hard. “Aaah! I’m sorry! Oh God that hurts, Emma, please, I’m sorry,” she pleaded.
“Excuse me?” Emma asked, bringing the paddle down hard a second time, thoroughly enjoying her role.
Tears stung Jean’s eyes, her ass already on fire after only two strokes. “I meant Ma’am,” she said in a shaky voice, the tightening in her stomach betraying her sensibilities. “I-I’m sorry, please Ma’am…”
Emma nearly purred, determined to keep Jean in her place until she was ready to allow her otherwise. “That’s better,” she said softly. “But I’m not going to stop. I make the rules and you follow them, young lady. Is that clear?”
Jean tried so hard to fight her next words but her body overpowered her mind and she bit her lip before answering. “Yes Ma’am, I’ll be a good girl.”
That was more than Emma expected and the longing ache between her legs made itself known with a painful throb. She again leaned over Jean, her lips capturing Jean’s earlobe for a quick nibble. “Whose good girl?”
Jean almost completely lost her composure, a gasp escaping her unbidden. “Y-your good girl,” she whispered.
Emma wanted to drop the paddle and devour her, but she had a lesson to teach and she intended to see that Jean remembered it. “Very nice,” she praised Jean’s answer. “Now, you are going to receive eighteen more strokes for a total of twenty, to make sure you remember to stay away from my possessions.”
Jean bit her arm to muffle her sound of protest. Twenty? She was sure she already couldn’t sit comfortably after only two!
Emma rested the paddle on Jean’s ass once more, then pulled back and delivered a series of six stinging blows one after another before taking a pause.
Jean quickly lost the fight to stay quiet and still. She yelled out with each stroke and tried to squirm away from the merciless paddle.
“No,” Emma said sharply. “You said you were going to be my good girl. Now hold still.”
“I’m trying,” Jean whispered, tears finally forcing their way down her cheeks at the admonishment. Nobody could hold still for such an assault, it was against human nature!
“Try harder, darling. I want you perfectly still while I spank you. It shows me you know you deserve it and accept it.”
Jean wanted to argue that Emma ought to try it then, but she didn’t. The woman was holding a rather mean implement, after all. “Yes Ma’am,” she answered instead.
“There’s my good girl,” Emma said with a smirk, rewarding Jean with a gentle rub over her bright red stripes before she returned to the punishment. Another six strokes fell, catching Jean’s upper thighs as well, and at that Jean yelled a curse Emma hadn’t even heard before. She would have scolded her ‘charge’ but the curse was followed by outright sobbing. Jean had given up any fight left in her and just cried.
“Just six more, almost done now,” Emma said in a soothing voice, running her fingertips over Jean’s blazing skin.
The coolness of Emma’s fingers felt good, but Jean knew there were more strokes of the paddle about to come so she couldn’t really enjoy it. She tensed up and buried her face in her arms, hot tears continuing to course down her cheeks.
Emma debated taking it easy on Jean and stopping at fourteen, but if she did then she wouldn’t be Emma, and she drew back once more, wielding the paddle with poise and grace… and brutal strength.
The six final cracks echoed throughout the room and Jean knew that her yells could be heard by others in the mansion. She didn’t care, it hurt too badly not to scream. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good,” she found herself stammering even though the punishment was over.
Suddenly Emma was leaning over her again, rubbing her back and murmuring softly in her ear.
Jean couldn’t stop crying, though her sobs did calm a bit to quiet tears. Her backside burned and stung like she couldn’t believe, and her face burned and stung with the humiliation of enjoying it even while hating it.
Emma knew Jean well enough to read her, and on top of that, Jean was projecting again - very strongly this time. “Jean, darling,” the former White Queen began slowly… “If you enjoyed that so much, why are you crying?”
“I-I didn’t,” Jean lied in a shaky voice.
“Oh. You didn’t?” Emma asked, pretending to be surprised. “Hmm.” She slid one hand down Jean’s side, over her right hip, along the outside of her thigh, moving inward. She stopped her hand at Jean’s mid inner thigh. “What will I find between your legs, Jean?” she asked in a husky voice. “I mean besides heat - I can feel that from here.”
Jean gasped, frozen. She couldn’t answer that! And oh God, Emma’s hand on her thigh sent pulses of pleasure straight upward. She wasn’t actually going to---… was she?
“Will I find you all wet, Jean?” Emma drawled, her hot breath tingling the back of Jean’s neck. “Wet for me?”
Jean bit her lip against the moan that tried to come out, only half succeeding in muffling the sound.
Emma didn’t intend to let up. Her fingers crawled toward Jean’s heated sex even as she continued speaking. “I’m not going to touch you unless you say it, Jean,” the blonde hissed. “How wet are you?”
Jean shook her head and Emma poised her free hand against Jean’s bruised ass.
“Answer me or you’re going to get spanked again,” she threatened. “How wet are you?”
Jean’s cheeks burned with shame but she couldn’t take another spanking. “Really wet,” she admitted in a tiny, breathless voice.
“Mmm, good girl,” Emma purred, inching her hand further up Jean’s thigh.
Jean groaned. She needed to be touched badly by now and pushed her hips down toward Emma’s fingers.
Emma retreated and shook her head. “What made you so wet, Jean?” she asked in the most purely un-pure voice Jean had ever heard anyone use.
“Oh God Emma, please,” Jean begged, not sure whether she was asking Emma to fuck her or leave her alone.
“I’ll ask once more,” Emma said darkly. Her fingers danced with a featherlight caress across Jean’s aching clit, retreating as soon as they made contact. “What made you so wet?” she repeated.
Jean wanted to cry again. It was hard to admit it to herself, let alone someone else. She choked on the words before finally forcing them past her trembling lips. “Y-you did,” she admitted. “And… and the sp-the spanking…” There… now Emma could just have her laugh and send Jean away, she could stay in her room and never come out again.
“Do I sound like I’m laughing?” Emma asked, her own tone rather breathless, her ice blue eyes ablaze with passion.
Jean really had to stop projecting. “No,” she answered the question, unable to help noticing that Emma’s fingers were now stroking the flesh of her inner thigh, maddeningly close to where she wanted them buried. She had a feeling Emma wouldn’t be quick or merciful about this.
“Now that we’ve established that,” Emma forged on dryly, her fingernails digging lightly into Jean’s skin… “What is it you’d like me to do to you, Dr. Grey?” Her voice dropped a few octaves and sounded positively scandalous.
Jean lost her breath for a moment, struggling to fill her lungs with air. She couldn’t very well enjoy herself at this game if she were dead, now, could she? And God, how she wanted to enjoy it… she’d never imagined having Emma treat her this way, be interested in her this way, but now that it was happening, she was wetter than she’d ever been in her life. Scott was a good lover, but she was practically coming and Emma hadn’t even touched her yet. Now that was skill. “I-you know what I want you to do,” she exhaled.
The White Queen leaned even closer to Jean’s ear, letting her tongue snake out of her mouth to lick and suck the blushing appendage before biting down firmly on the lobe, making Jean jump. “Do you want me to walk away and leave you alone?” she asked. “No, that’s not it…” Her tongue worked its way inside Jean’s ear, her breath hot and seductive. “Do you want me to fuck you, Jean?” she hissed, her fingernails clutching Jean’s thigh to the point of lightly puncturing the pale skin…
“Yes!” Jean gasped, delirious with need, the torture driving her insane. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire, burning and sparking and begging to be sated.
“Hard and fast?” Emma continued, dragging her nails further up until her fingertips rested between Jean’s legs, twirling the fiery curls around them.
“Yes,” Jean answered, parting her thighs in invitation.
“Do you want it to hurt?” Emma’s voice was low and dangerous, hinting at what she was capable of…
“Yes,” Jean groaned, and as soon as the word left her mouth Emma roughly thrust two fingers inside to the hilt, pulled them out and pounded in again, making Jean cry out in pleasurable pain.
“Talk to me, baby,” Emma whispered, planting wet kisses along Jean’s cheeks and jawline, down her neck, marking the redhead with her teeth.
“Oh God,” Jean replied, barely able to form coherent thoughts, but she wanted to be a good girl and Emma had asked her to talk… “Fuck me, Frost,” she begged, somewhere in the back of her mind realizing that Emma had marked her neck and she’d have to explain it to the team, and what would the students think?
“Stop thinking and just feel,” Emma commanded, pumping her fingers in and out a few times and then probing with a third, stretching Jean a bit and pushing very slowly inside. “And beg,” she added with a smirk to herself. “It makes me so wet to hear you beg.”
Jean ground her teeth together against the pain, but it felt so damn good it was worth every second. It was that kind of pain that hurt in an exhilarating and absolutely amazing way. Hearing Emma’s last statement, she thought she might fall over, it was a good thing she was bent over her desk and not standing on shaky legs. She licked her lips, imagining what the blonde might taste like, and she wanted to make Emma feel how Emma was making her feel. “Please, harder, I want you to hurt me,” she begged as per Emma’s request. Not that she was entirely just putting on a show for her lover… every word she said was true. She just wouldn’t normally say it out loud. “I need you Emma, I need your fingers, I need you to take me and make me yours. I need-“ she stumbled over the last statement, unsure whether she could force the words out, but she tried hard. “I-- I need you to fuck me like I’ve been a bad girl…”
Emma purred out loud, rewarding Jean with a bruising kiss, tongue invading her mouth and claiming every inch of it while she gave a particularly rough and possessive thrust of her fingers. “You have been a bad girl,” she informed Jean. “Very bad. If I could, I’d take a whip to your sweet, sweet flesh while I fucked you… but I only have two hands and one mouth,” she said, bringing her thumb around to rub Jean’s clit firmly in a circular pattern. She used her telepathy to plant a picture in Jean’s mind of just what she’d like to be doing to her, and Jean screamed, her body tensing and shaking as Emma drew her orgasm from her like a vice, pulling out every last drop Jean had to offer and bringing her fingers to her lips in a suggestive display.
Nothing had ever felt so good, Jean was certain of it as her clit spasmed and sent a wave of heat and ecstasy through her veins, rendering her speechless and motionless across the desk. She had to close her eyes when she saw Emma starting to clean off her fingers with her tongue, but the blonde wasn’t having any of that.
“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. She placed her fingers on Jean’s lips instead. “Open up,” she demanded quietly, but a demand nonetheless, not to be argued with.
Jean had never tasted herself, or any female for that matter… Scott had never asked her to do that and she was rather hesitant to comply.
“Open up, darling, or I’m going to slap that pretty face of yours,” Emma repeated the command in that tone that only Emma could manage.
Jean’s eyes widened a bit and she opened her mouth before she could think any further. Emma’s fingers slid easily between Jean’s lips. They were soft and warm - everything they hadn’t been while fucking her - and Jean closed her lips over them, sucking softly, running her tongue along each one and cleaning them properly. It didn’t taste bad… she really didn’t have any taste to compare it to, it didn’t taste like anything she’d ever experienced. The smile on Emma’s face would have made it worth it, though, even if she hadn’t enjoyed the flavor.
“Good girl,” the White Queen praised her, patting her cheek firmly a few times… certainly not a slap, but not a caress either. Jean was surprised to find that she liked it. She tried not to show it, but damn Emma Frost picked up on every latent desire Jean didn’t even know she possessed. “You like that, doll?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. In a rare moment of genuine respect for another person, Emma tilted Jean’s face up to look her in the eyes. “May I slap you harder?”
Jean’s heart started pounding again and she swallowed, finding it very difficult to do so past the lump in her throat. She stared at Emma, searching her eyes for signs of her thoughts and feelings, her intentions, whether or not she was going to pretend nothing happened come tomorrow. All she found was expectancy and quiet patience while Emma waited for her to answer the question. Was that okay with her? The fact that Emma had asked her permission made her feel good about it… Scott had never done anything rough with her in his life, so this was uncharted and scary territory for her. Scary, but exhilarating. Scary, but absolutely fucking incredible. She didn’t know she could… feel… so much. Looking into Emma’s eyes, she swallowed once more and then gave the slightest nod of her head.
Emma closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of Jean’s hair, kissed the top of her head, and guided her to a standing position. With one hand she braced the side of Jean’s jaw, and with her other, she patted Jean’s cheek a few more times before landing a stinging slap to her face.
Emma’s left hand prevented Jean’s head from snapping to the side, and she was grateful for that… she gasped and closed her eyes, her cheek immediately throbbing from the blow. The air left her lungs in a rush, and she stood breathing hard in front of Emma, her thighs tightening at the tingle running through her belly.
Emma slid her left hand around behind Jean’s neck to grasp a fistful of her hair and squeeze, gently pulling Jean’s face toward her own for a kiss. This time she was slow and soft, warm and tender, kissing her almost chastely and letting her tongue caress the perimeter of Jean’s lips before delving inside her mouth. Her right hand gently stroked Jean’s cheek, and when she pulled back she again stared into Jean’s sparkling eyes. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” she breathed in a whisper.
The question, and the way Emma asked it, surprised Jean. She studied the woman in front of her for a few moments before slowly shaking her head. How could she possibly be having any effect on the White Queen? Emma was all poise and grace, she never got flustered (well, unless someone put her sunglasses up Scott’s ass, apparently), she never had a hair out of place or a feeling she couldn’t control. She was at the top of the proverbial food chain, never outdone or outwitted, never impulsive or irrational, never hot and sweaty, always cool and collected. But right now the look in her eyes was anything but traditional Emma Frost. She looked like she’d jump into the flames of hell if Jean jumped first.
Movement caught Jean’s eye and she glanced down to see Emma stepping out of her panties. “Feel me,” the ice queen said in a shaky voice, the first time Jean had ever heard it so - she sounded almost insecure… but Jean knew that was impossible. She felt fingers closing over her wrist and guiding her hand toward Emma’s white leather skirt. She was actually about to touch Emma Frost.
Emma guided Jean’s hand up under her miniskirt and between her legs, her knees almost buckling as she felt tentative fingers stroking her wetness.
“Oh,” Jean gasped, her mouth falling open as her fingers met slick heat. She liked the way Emma reacted to her… “Don’t fall,” she quickly said, pulling her hand away.
“I don’t care if I fall through the fucking floor,” Emma responded, urging Jean’s hand back beneath her skirt. “Touch me.”
Part 2
Jean shifted her position slightly for better balance, and winced as she was reminded of her incredibly sore, well-paddled backside. She looked up into Emma's blazing eyes and a question sprang to mind. As she hesitantly stroked her fingers over Emma's swollen flesh, she had to ask. "Why did you really spank me?" and after a pause, she added "Ma'am?" in a sultry tone.
Emma stared right back into Jean's inquisitive eyes, her own clouding over at the question. "Now is not the time," she managed to get out in a cool voice, though her cool was quickly fading into a desperate fire that only Jean could put out. How long had she wanted this, waited for this, dreamed of something she was sure could never happen? She'd never admit it, of course, but Jean had been the subject of her fantasies for some time now. She hadn't intended to take things this far, she was sure Jean would reject her advances, but when she'd bent her over the desk for a spanking there was absolutely no turning back. Especially once she realized that Jean wasn't going to slink away at the first sign of rough handling. The woman could take what Emma could give, which was rare, and there was so much more she wanted to do to her... but right now all she wanted was the burning ache between her legs to explode into ecstasy. The fact that Jean was nervous but was still willing to touch her made the idea even more delicious. The tentative way her fingers moved was intoxicating and Emma wasn't sure how much longer she could stand up. Her legs had never failed her even in the most heated of moments, but they were shaking now, as were her hands and her heart. Her entire consciousness was wrapped around the most beautiful, enigmatic, interesting woman she'd ever laid eyes on... and the fact that said woman's hand was beneath her skirt. Who would've thought that Dr. Jean Grey could be so dirty? Emma's mind was having a hard time catching up with her body, but when it did, and she realized that no one else had ever seen Jean like this, that the pleasure was hers alone, she groaned softly, letting her eyes drift closed.
Emma's response to her question confirmed that the sunglasses were not the only issue between them, but she'd find out Emma's true motives later. Right now she was really, really enjoying the way Emma responded to her touch. All she had to do was move her fingers the slightest bit and the White Queen practically melted onto them. She could only imagine how warm it would be inside... True, she had never done this with a woman before, but she was a woman, and she knew what she liked. She moved her lips next to Emma's ear, careful to stay in her submissive role as much as possible, but she didn't intend to just wait for directions. She wanted to make Emma writhe and squirm and scream, make her feel so good she'd never come again without thinking of this encounter. She instinctively knew that using her voice would drive Emma wild. She whispered into Emma's ear, her breath hot and ready. "Ma'am... may I put my fingers inside you, please? I've been such a good girl for you, I want to please you so badly..." She dialed up the desperation in her voice to push Emma's buttons, and it worked better than she'd anticipated.
Emma gasped, her knees giving out, catching herself on the desk before she could fall completely. No one had ever been able to affect her this way, this strongly, it was a very foreign sensation yet so powerful she wouldn't have it any other way. She knew Jean was trying to push her, and she loved it. Jean could give as good as she got, even if it was in a quiet, submissive way.
The White Queen pushed herself back to her feet and took a seat on the edge of the desk, not trusting her legs any longer. Jean's sexy voice sent shivers up and down her spine, wetting her thighs in anticipation. She wanted Jean's fingers buried so deep inside her, she wanted it more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. "Yes, you may," she forced out calmly, her voice masking the white hot desire she felt in her chest. Something more than sex was going on here, and it scared the shit out of her. She had to stay in control.
"Thank you," Jean whispered, her fingers a bit more invasive and demanding now that she had vocal permission to penetrate the ice queen. She slid them around first, coating them with Emma's evidence of arousal, then slowly pushed two against Emma's entrance. "Ma'am... you might need to spread your legs a bit more," she suggested innocently, biting her lip as she looked down at the seated Emma.
Who was playing what here? Emma had to wonder, but she obliged, leaning back on her hands for support and splaying her thighs wide, giving Jean the most magnificent view she'd ever seen. Glacial mountains couldn't compare to the beauty before her, beauty that was all hers for the taking.
Jean blushed at the wanton display, pushing her fingers just inside, almost moaning at the feeling. Warm heat enveloped her, and she wanted more. More, more, more. Excruciatingly slowly she inched her fingers further inside, until they were completely imbedded in the White Queen's tempting core.
Emma lost a tiny battle and let a sound of pleasure slip past her lips, her eyes once again closing against the sparks of sensation Jean roused in her. "Yes, Jean," she breathed, her words barely audible, hips pressing forward with inscrutably measured control.
Jean took a gamble at taking some control back from Emma, curling her fingers to press against a very sensitive spot, making Emma gasp and throw her head back. "How does that feel?" she asked, stroking the blonde firmly...
Emma growled, the tips of her hair brushing the top of the desk, back arched, mouth open. "You have to ask?"
Jean grinned, stroking faster. "I'm trying to... oh hell Emma, you know what I'm trying to do. I want to make you come so hard that you can't think of anything but the way I feel inside you!" she hissed, her free hand raising to caress Emma's perfect breasts. Her nipples were rock hard... Jean couldn't resist dipping her head down to take one into her mouth. The white leather proved to be a barrier much too difficult to suck through. "Off," she ordered, pulling her fingers out and thrusting back in, searching out Emma's g-spot again and finding it easily.
"How do you ask?" Emma managed to scold before another moan escaped her. She fought hard to maintain the upper hand, she couldn't let Jean top her, she had just established her position less than an hour before. How would it look to Jean if she could just snap her fingers and make Emma drool? No, she had to hold back, she wouldn't let go. She didn't want to get off badly enough to risk losing her pride and authority.
Jean had had enough of that game for the moment, and whether she'd be paddled again for it later or not she really didn't care right now. "I said take it the fuck off," she growled, teeth bared as she dared Emma to refuse with her fiery stare.
Emma whimpered a protest, not really to Jean but to herself... she wasn't going to let Jean talk to her that way, not even with those skilled fingers fucking her senseless. Her nipples strained to push past the leather encasing them in painful binding... "Jean Gr--" she started to reprimand Jean again when Jean grabbed hold of her leather top and ripped it right off of her body. She didn't have time to get angry before Jean's mouth covered one of her nipples, tongue flicking against it and bathing it with heated attention.
The sound that came from Emma was primal. It couldn't be described any other way. Jean reveled in it, bringing her free hand to stroke and pinch Emma's other nipple lightly. Her thumb stroked Emma's clit in soft circles, slowly increasing the pressure until she had Emma's hips bucking against her hand, the White Queen's breathing ragged and sporadic. "Fuck!" the blonde yelled in a breathless display, struggling for air as her entire body came alive with pleasure. Jean was damn good at playing her body to the T... nothing she did was wrong in any way, everything felt so fucking amazing that Emma couldn't see straight. She gave an ear-splitting howl as she came hard on Jean's fingers, her hands clutching Jean's long red hair and holding the redhead's face to her breast as her orgasm flowed through her with reckless abandon. She would mourn her loss of control later. Right now she just screamed her pleasure into the classroom's stuffy air, her body collapsing on the desk with Jean's fingers still buried inside her.
Jean stroked slower to bring Emma down, then slipped her fingers out carefully and licked them clean before easily lifting Emma into her arms and sitting on the desk with the White Queen in her lap.
Emma immediately struggled out of Jean's arms, brushing her sweat-dampened hair out of her face and trying to regain a sense of propriety. But the hurt look on Jean's face quelched her need for adolescent pride, and with a sigh of defeat she sat back on the doctor's lap, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Jean's ear and kissing her lips softly. "Amazing," she whispered, trying for once not to be selfish. She wanted Jean to know how good it felt, how well she'd done, what a good 'student' she had been. Jean's earnest expression called for nothing else, and nothing else would do. The smile she was rewarded with calmed her irritation at her loss of dignity.
Jean was nervous to say the least until Emma said that one word and kissed her. She smiled, wrapping her arms around Emma and holding her close. She too felt something besides sex was going on, but she didn't have the will nor the energy to examine it just now. Whatever it was, they'd work it out some other time. She was about to say something when Emma's expression faded to one of displeasure.
"Now," Emma said, back in her usual self-assured state of being. "I'm not sure what made you think it was okay to order me around like you did, young lady, but let me assure you, it is not. You will never speak to me in that manner again, do you understand?" She stood up again, in front of Jean, her eyes twinkling as she looked at the redhead.
Jean blushed darkly, averting her eyes from the gaze boring into them, and curled her knees to her chest. How did Emma manage to make her feel like a naughty schoolgirl with just a look and a stern voice? When just moments ago she was running the show, suddenly she was on the verge of some sort of punishment... a punishment she was not likely to refuse... a punishment she was looking forward to, no matter what it might be. It had been far too long since Jean let her wild side out, her sense of adventure, and Emma brought it out with such ease that it was actually a relief to acquiesce to whatever the queen had planned. Jean's heartbeat picked up again with excitement, the unknown factor hanging above her head causing her to bite her lip against the smile she felt coming on. "Yes Ma'am," she answered in a properly penitent tone, lowering her eyes to stare at Emma's boots.
"I can't let this go, you do realize that, don't you Miss Grey?" Emma continued, the familiarity of this role putting her back at ease within seconds.
"Yes Ma'am," came the tiny reply.
"What do you think I should do about your lack of respect?"
Jean blushed even darker, hundreds of scenarios flying through her brain at lightning speed, each one dismissed as soon as it entered. It wasn't up to her. "Whatever you think is warranted, Ma'am," she answered obediently, lifting her eyes to the smooth, flawless skin of Emma's face.
Emma's grin turned wicked. "Let's go to my room, darling. There are so many toys I want to use on you... I think first I'll fit you with some steel shackles and chain you to my bed. Then I might get out my beautifully crafted singletail..." Oh, the possibilities were endless with a willing partner, and Jean was so obviously willing that it clamped a vice around Emma's chest, making it hard to breathe. Jean was the perfect submissive - petulant when called for, shy and respectful when it fit the scene, nervous all the time. Emma's more predatory instincts latched onto the nervous part of Jean, wanting to twist it into something sinister, but each time she entertained that thought, her heart pulled as she looked at Jean's open, beautiful, trusting face, and she reminded herself not to break her.
Part 3
Jean bit her lip at the prospect and moved to pull her pants and panties back up for the trek to Emma’s room when the classroom door blew off its hinges and there stood Scott and Storm. And now her fingers wouldn’t work, they were shaking too much, so she used her TK to yank her clothing back into place before she got even more embarrassed than she already was, which would be literally impossible. Her face was as red as her ass and she wanted to sink into the floor, wishing she had Kitty’s power for a moment…
Emma on the other hand - calm, cool, collected Emma - just smirked, made a slight show of leaning down to pick up her discarded white lace g-string, and strode toward the door, handing the very wet panties to Scott. “Be a dear and reunite this garment with my sunglasses, would you?” she said, smiling at Storm and stepping between the two of them out the door. She turned and leveled her icy stare at Jean. “Jean,” she ordered pointedly, “come here.”
Scott had not missed the red stripes covering Jean’s ass before she’d managed to get her clothes up, not to mention the redness of her left cheek, and the way Emma was treating her had him suddenly worried. “Did she hurt you?” he asked, ignoring Emma’s saucy comment about the sunglasses and starting to move toward Jean, but Storm got in his way, whispering something into his ear that made him look very grim but stopped him in his tracks.
Jean would have to thank Ororo later, whatever she said to him. “No, Scott,” she whispered, lowering her eyes as she moved past him to the door and the patiently waiting Emma. Dear God, this was humiliating. And the look on Emma’s face was a little scary. But this wasn’t her fault! And why the hell had Scott blasted the door instead of knocking?
Emma caught Jean’s thought and chuckled. “They did knock, darling, we were busy,” she answered the unspoken question with a wink.
Scott looked like he wanted to strangle Emma as he shoved past the three women and went off someplace to sulk. Just like him, Jean thought. Storm gave the girls a small smile, knocking Jean playfully on the arm. “That must have been some spanking,” she teased, and before Jean had the chance to shrink against Emma for protection from the teasing, Ororo tousled her already tousled hair and walked away, leaving Jean and Emma to (not) wonder what the two had wanted in the first place.
Emma of course smirked at the retreating Storm, then turned to Jean with a slight frown. “When I tell you to come here, you come here. You don’t look at anyone else or speak to anyone else. Is that clear?” she reprimanded her quietly but sharply.
Jean shivered. What had she gotten herself into? Oh who was she kidding, she fucking loved every minute of it. Emma could command her senses like no one else could. “Yes Ms. Frost,” she whispered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in an adorably nervous gesture. She felt Emma’s projected urge to stick her in a schoolgirl uniform and spank her again. At that she managed to squelch a gasp of surprise, not wanting Emma to know she’d received the thought.
“Good girl,” the White Queen answered regally, petting Jean’s hair and kissing the top of her head. “Follow me.”
--
Jean had never been inside Emma’s bedroom - it looked just like her. It felt like her too, and there was a slight chill in the air befitting the queen of ice. Everything was white, from the ornate bedside tables to the satin sheets and comforter, to the walls, the plush carpet, the leather recliner and the iron bed frame. Normally she would comment on the lack of color, but the precarious position she was currently in prevented her from daring to do so. She didn’t want to see that disappointed frown on Emma’s face again.
The sound of Emma’s lilting voice jarred Jean from her exploration of the room. “Shall I put out a ‘do not disturb’ sign?”
Jean scowled, shooting Emma a glare of her own. She wanted to forget that Scott and Storm had seen her like this, and it was just like Emma to torture her with the memory.
The White Queen closed the distance between them and stood with her face a breath away from Jean’s… “I’m going to wipe that insolent look off your face,” she promised, licking Jean’s cheek slowly before pulling back and giving it another good hard slap.
Jean whimpered, her knees going weak, that familiar tingle in her belly returning full force to haunt her. Why was she enjoying this? Emma had just slapped her face… and Jean was ready to do anything for her.
Emma absolutely adored the whimper Jean let out - it might very well have been the most erotic sound she’d ever heard. She purred and rubbed Jean’s stinging cheek, giving it a few firm pats and then forcing Jean to look at her with a tight grip on her chin. “Go into that closet,” she instructed, nodding toward the closet in question, “and bring me back something. You have two minutes.” She sent Jean off with a bruising kiss, then reclined on her bed to watch and wait.
A sound of disbelief could be heard from the closet as Jean opened the doors and looked inside. Black, everywhere. Not a trace of white… black whips, black chains, black objects that made Jean tremble. How was she supposed to pick something out when she barely knew what any of it was? Her eyes roamed the expanse of the rather large walk-in closet, and she ruled out anything sharp or too heavy. Had it been two minutes yet? She didn’t want to get in any more trouble. Finally a smooth black leather belt caught her eye, and she ran her fingers down the length of it, the feel making her stomach jump. She carefully took it from its peg and turned, walking back to Emma and holding it out to her while staring at the carpet. “Here,” she whispered.
Emma grinned, taking the belt and wrapping it around her hand a few times, holding onto the buckle for a base. “Very nice,” she said approvingly, nodding at Jean’s choice. “Take your clothes off.”
The command seemed to sort of come out of nowhere, and surprised Jean for a moment. Wasn’t Emma supposed to strip her of her clothes? This line of thought wouldn’t get her anywhere, though, and when Emma slapped the end of the belt into the palm of her own hand, Jean’s thighs clenched and she got to work getting undressed. The jeans and panties went first, and the cool air felt very nice on her backside. She unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off her shoulders, then removed her bra and started to fold her clothes.
Emma laughed. “Jean, what are you doing? Leave them and come here.”
Jean started at the voice, having not even realized she was folding the clothes. Habit, she supposed. With a sheepish grin she dropped them to the floor and climbed up onto the bed in front of Emma.
Emma leaned forward and kissed Jean’s cheek, then ran her fingers over the leather belt with a sigh. “I’m surprised you didn’t pick a strap-on.”
Jean blinked, glancing toward the closet. “I didn’t see any…”
“They’re in the first and second drawers of the étagere…”
The redhead’s lower lip worried its way out into a very endearing pout and her voice held a childish whine. “Is it too late to change my mind?”
Emma’s look spoke volumes, but she answered vocally anyway. “Of course. Now be a good girl and get on your hands and knees.”
Emma could hear another tiny whine as Jean complied, pushing onto her hands and knees in the middle of the bed, her head dropped between her shoulders, burgundy tresses splaying across the white satin comforter. The contrast was exquisite and Emma wished she had a camera within reach. She burned the image into her memory in case she never had the opportunity to do this again.
The White Queen kicked off her shoes and stood up on the bed, towering above Jean with a devious grin on her painted lips. She uncoiled the belt and folded it in half, pulling it taut with a loud crack, the noise almost sending Jean sprawling onto her front in surprise. If it sounded that painful, she could only imagine how painful it was going to feel. Her entire body quivered with anticipation, sweat already dampening the hair at the back of her neck.
Emma unfolded the belt again, grasping the buckle and letting the other end fall lightly across Jean’s shoulders and criss-crossed down her back. “You’re going to be my good girl and stay on your hands and knees, Jean,” she commanded in a very enticing drawl. “You’re not going to fall or we’ll start over.”
It was all Jean could do to get an answer out through the wave of uncertainty and arousal that washed over her. “Yes Ma’am.”
“Delightful.” And with that, Emma began. She drew the belt back and forward with practiced ease, landing a solid stroke across Jean’s left shoulder blade, avoiding the bones of course.
Jean cried out, her head shooting up and back, a stripe of heat rushing to the surface where she’d been struck. Son of a bitch, that hurt… and in a much different way than the paddle. It stung more, and it hurt ten times worse on her shoulders than on her ass. Another stroke caught her other shoulder blade, and she dropped her head forward again, gasping for breath. Her elbows wavered, but she pushed them straight, refusing to let herself fall.
Satisfied with her handiwork, Emma dropped off the bed to stand on the floor, and let loose with a flurry of back-and-forth strokes against Jean’s beautiful thighs. She was rewarded with another shout, and moved upward to strike the doctor’s bottom, painting a deeper red over the bruises already there.
Jean’s shoulders shook with her tears, which fell in a steady stream from her closed eyes, dropping to pool on the comforter below her. It hurt more than she thought she could take, but it was also so very cathartic. She felt freer than she had in a long time, the tears a long-needed release. Giving up control was hard… but the result was undeniably sweet. Reality’s everyday worries slipped away and all Jean had to think about was whatever Emma told her to. “Oh, please!” she yelled through her wracking tears.
“Please what?” Emma asked, performing a rather elegant move that allowed her to send the tip of the belt up between the redhead’s legs with a snap.
“Aaah!” Jean cried out, burying her face in one of Emma’s lush pillows, biting down on the corner of it and spreading her legs just a little bit further… “I don’t know,” she answered, her voice muffled against the pillow. How the fuck did Emma manage to reduce her to this?! Begging, writhing, opening her legs in a silent plea for more pain? Intensely erotic pain… Emma snapped the belt across her clit again and she let out a low, languid moan as an orgasm overtook her, sweeping through her like wildfire and burning everything in its path. Her eyelids fluttered and finally squeezed shut, her thighs clamping down on the delicate hand now between them as her body allowed Emma’s fingers the pleasure of a waterfall à la Jean.
Emma’s finely manicured fingertips skated through warm wetness, becoming coated in it before painting a line down each of Jean’s inner thighs.
Part 4
Jean didn’t think she could handle being touched anymore at the moment, she needed to let her body calm down, but she changed her mind when she felt a warm, wet tongue snaking up her thigh and bent her head down to see Emma’s face between her legs. They were in a slightly odd position and she almost rolled onto her back, but the stinging in her ass reminded her not to do anything she wasn’t given permission to do. “Em-mis-Ma’am?” she finally managed to stammer…
“Yes?” Emma asked, taking a break from licking up the mess she’d made to look at Jean with those normally icy blue eyes. Icy blue eyes that currently didn’t look very cold to Jean.
“May I please lie down?” Jean asked, keeping her voice as subservient as possible.
Emma bit down hard on one thigh, eliciting a yelp of surprise from the redhead, and then rolled Jean over, pinning her on her back. Her lips twitched in a devious sort of way, nothing surprising about that, and she reached her hands up to rake her fingernails down Jean’s chest and across her finely sculpted belly, leaving welts in their wake. “Yes you may,” she answered as she stared at the gorgeous woman beneath her. How had she gotten so lucky? She’d taken initiative, that was how. She just made her intentions known and-hellooo, attention on the naked woman in her bed or on psychoanalyzing the situation?! Naked woman, Frost… naked woman.
The blonde snorted derisively at her inner monologue and shook her head a bit to clear the unwanted academics. She smiled at the raised scratches along Jean’s front, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her lover’s ear.
Jean appreciated the tenderness and allowed Emma to see exactly how she felt through the expressiveness of her eyes. She felt loved, even though they hadn’t exactly been cuddling. She felt important, though Emma hadn’t been standing there singing her praises. She felt safe, even though she had just been beaten. She felt… alive, wonderful, blissfully happy… and she felt a deep sense of affection and respect and trust for Emma Frost. None of which had been there before the White Queen had inadvertently let her in. Maybe most people wouldn’t agree that Emma had let her in, but through her dominance, Emma had shown more about herself to Jean than she could measure. Things Jean didn’t think anyone else had ever been privy to. Wielding a paddle with merciless force, Emma was… human. Irony didn’t even begin to cover that paradox.
“Where’d you go, darling?” Emma asked quietly when Jean’s thoughts returned to the moment. She was above Jean on all fours, and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the doctor’s lips. An uncharacteristic wave of emotion swept over her without warning and she was horrified to feel the sting of tears behind her eyes as she looked at Jean and received what her lover was trying to convey through those soft warm eyes. She didn’t even know what the feeling was, it was impossible to classify, she hadn’t had much experience in the area. It was warm and fuzzy, not between her legs but deep in her belly, and resonated outward to encompass her heart. Now there was an interesting concept… she had thought her heart frozen for a very long time now, and sex of all things wasn’t likely to thaw it out. A strangled sob choked her and she fought the urge to run from the room, instead turning away and pretending she actually was choking, bringing her hand to her mouth and faking a few more coughs.
Jean was quick, not easily fooled, and sat up, taking Emma’s face in her hands and forcing her to make eye contact. “Emma?” she asked, shedding the pretense of submission in place of a sense of protection she suddenly couldn’t shake off.
“No,” Emma said, forcing her voice to be calm, cool and collected - the epitome of her personality. She wasn’t going to falter. Not now, not ever. She was Emma fucking Frost for God’s sake! This was absolutely unreasonable.
Jean didn’t want to argue but she wasn’t about to let Emma just get up and walk away when something was so obviously going on. So instead of a verbal rebuke, she simply slid her arms further around Emma and pulled her close, holding her tightly and stroking her hair.
“Stop it!” Emma shouted, feeling herself dangerously close to an uncharted edge, and a terror gripped her unlike any she’d ever felt before. She was about to lose her carefully crafted pretense… her shields were wavering. This was not the plan. The plan had been to punish Jean and walk away. The plan was beyond fucked up already, but she could still salvage a vestige of control.
Emma pushed hard, but Jean anticipated it and held her through it. She didn’t know what exactly was fighting to get out, but she intended to make sure it succeeded. “I can see you, Emma,” she whispered, kissing the top of Emma’s blonde head.
Oh God. That was it and the dam broke, Emma’s tears crashing out of her like a tidal wave against Jean’s chest. No one had ever really seen her, they hadn’t taken the time or made the effort, and Emma liked it that way. What they couldn’t see, they couldn’t hate. But Jean could see, she could see past all of the brick walls and fake smiles, past the defense mechanisms and arrogance, right into Emma’s fragile soul, and she wasn’t laughing. And she wasn’t walking away. Emma had many lovers, but never a single friend. Jean had been neither but suddenly she was both.
Years of abuse that she’d never cried over, followed by years of meaningless partnerships and unbearable loneliness even while in the company of ‘friends’, came pouring out of the fractured woman in Jean’s arms. It was like the fire of the Phoenix was melting her self-imposed cage of ice, except it wasn’t fire, or the Phoenix, but a little bit of sincerity and truth directed her way. And acceptance, which she’d never thought she’d receive from anyone, let alone Jean Grey.
Jean cradled Emma like a child, rocking her back and forth and occasionally planting soft kisses on her cheeks and forehead while she cried.
Part 5
Emma was humiliated, but the tears wouldn’t stop, in fact every time she tried to stop them they just fell harder. The helplessness and despair she felt at her display consumed her, and she clung to Jean as if to a life raft in the violent tide of the ocean.
And speaking of falling hard, Jean was doing just that, unable to stop herself. It was like the pieces of her life’s puzzle suddenly had color, suddenly all fit perfectly into place with no gaps. An overwhelming passion and devotion sprung to life within her chest, and in that frozen instant in time, Jean Grey knew she’d just fallen hopelessly in love with Emma Frost. But how could that happen so quickly, without warning? When they’d been less than civil to each other since the day they met? Was the hidden potential there all along, waiting to be sparked into life, or were they truly at odds and the switch had just been flipped? You couldn’t reason with love, she knew that much, and while she was sitting here trying to do so, Emma was falling apart in her arms.
Jean stopped trying to figure it out, and held Emma tighter. “It’s okay, Em,” she whispered tenderly, rubbing the White Queen’s back in slow circles. “I promise, it’s going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Emma registered that she’d just been given a nickname that didn’t start or end with ‘bitch’ or ‘frosty’. Frosty the Snowqueen had until now been her favorite by far, but upon hearing Jean call her ‘Em’ she changed her mind. It sounded so natural, so… sweet. Slowly her tears calmed to just a few trickles, but she wasn’t steady enough to let go of Jean yet. She hid her face against her lover, quite astonished at what had just taken place and more than a little embarrassed. She was actually blushing. So many firsts today. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into Jean’s chest.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Jean said gently, running her fingers through Emma’s long blonde hair. “And don’t you dare try to pretend it didn’t happen.” Yes, she knew that was a distinct possibility and was simply not going to allow Emma to shrug it off. Trying to inject some lightness into the situation, she added, “Or I’m going to spank you.”
That actually got a laugh from the blonde and she dared to look up into Jean’s smiling eyes. “Thank you,” she said, and it could be argued that it was the most sincere thing Emma Frost had ever said to anyone. How did Jean know exactly what she needed to hear? Other than being a telepath, of course. She knew Jean had not probed her mind. Maybe she was just that obvious. Or maybe Jean was just that perfect.
“For the threat?” Jean asked, raising an eyebrow at Emma.
“No,” Emma said, laughing again, surprised at how easy Jean was making this. “For… for… for-“
“You don’t have to say it,” Jean whispered, closing her lips over Emma’s in a loving kiss.
Emma was eternally grateful for the reprieve, pouring herself into the kiss, showing Jean with her body what she couldn’t convey with her words. She was falling hard too.
Claim: X-Men Fandom
Pairing: Jean Grey/Emma Frost
Prompt: #18, Paddle
“All right, class dismissed,” Jean said with a smile as the last bell of the day rang out.
The students couldn’t get out of the room fast enough - it was Friday!
Jean turned to Emma Frost, who had been observing the lesson. “So the reason we-“ Jean started to explain something but was cut off.
“I’m well aware,” Emma interrupted with a wave of her hand. “And I’m well aware of something else, too, that I’d rather not be, but alas, if only we could choose what we hear.” She looked over at the door and it closed with a click.
Jean raised an eyebrow and sat down on the edge of her desk. “And what would that be?” she asked politely.
"My Dolce sunglasses have gone missing. A little bird told me what happened to them.”
Jean laughed. Only Emma could make a pair of sunglasses sound so important.
Emma’s ice blue eyes narrowed. “They were a gift, Jean,” she said stiffly.
“I’m sorry Emma,” Jean replied, shaking her head. “I’ll get you another pair.”
Emma’s teeth clenched as her temper flared. “You do not take things that belong to me!” she shouted. “And you do NOT put my sunglasses up Scott’s ass no matter what the situation seems to call for!”
Emma was furious, and Jean just wanted to die laughing. How could Emma be so upset over a pair of sunglasses, whether they were a gift or not? She’d love to get inside Emma’s head. What a labyrinth of snowflakes must be waiting there. “They’re just sunglasses,” she finally managed to say lamely.
Emma balled her hands into fists and took a measured step closer to Jean. She was upset over more than the sunglasses, but she was not about to explain herself to Jean bloody fucking Grey. She stood for a moment, deciding whether or not to flat-out knock Jean upside the head…
Jean’s face finally turned serious when Emma didn’t say anything. She sighed and pushed off of her desk to stand awkwardly in the silence that stretched between them. “I’m sorry. What more can I say, Emma?”
“Nothing,” Emma said with a quick shake of her head. “But you can do something for me.”
“What’s that?” Jean asked.
“Turn around,” Emma instructed.
Jean hesitantly turned around, finding the request a bit odd.
Emma walked slowly over and stopped just behind Jean. With one quick motion she took Jean by a fistful of hair and bent her over the desk.
Jean gasped as her cheek came into contact with the cool cherry wood. “Ow,” she breathed quietly.
Emma maintained a very tight grip on Jean’s hair, a thrill running through her at the position she had her colleague in. Delicious.
Jean didn’t want to guess what was coming. She closed her eyes and tensed, but nothing happened.
“Jean, get me the paddle from your top drawer,” Emma finally spoke.
A shiver ran through Jean’s body. “Emma, no,” she pleaded. “This kind of punishment is for the children…”
Emma landed a sharp swat to the seat of Jean’s pants. “Now, Jean,” she said sternly.
Jean jumped in surprise and felt a hot blush spread over her face. She couldn’t believe that Emma actually intended to spank her! She was a grown woman and-
“You do not want me to have to go get it,” Emma’s voice interrupted her train of thought.
Jean blushed even darker at the scolding and concentrated on the desk drawer. It opened and she telekinetically lifted the heavy wooden paddle out, floating it to Emma and resisting the urge to smack the back of her head with it.
“I heard that,” Emma said, snatching the paddle out of the air. She leaned over Jean and whispered in her ear. “It’ll cost you.”
It had been a long time since Jean had projected a thought without meaning to, but now was not the time to dwell on it. She could feel Emma’s warm breath tickle her ear and she very much wanted to run away… but she also didn’t. Any student that had done what she’d done would have been paddled by her, so what would it say about her character if she didn’t hold herself to the same standards? At any rate, having Emma so close was unnerving. And apparently her errant thought projection had made it worse? How could it be worse?
Jean’s question was answered when she felt Emma’s hands beneath her, working open the buttons of her Levis. Her breath hitched and she struggled briefly against the indignity.
“Stop it, unless you want to lose the underwear too,” Emma said blandly.
Jean froze, and it was enough for Emma to quickly slide her pants down to her knees. “Are you going to give me trouble, young lady?” Emma asked in her teacher tone.
Jean felt like a damn student, her jeans around her knees, about to get paddled… “I-no,” she answered. “No trouble.”
“No, what?” Emma asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes that Jean of course couldn’t see.
“What? Oh come on Emma!” she protested indignantly, until she felt Emma’s fingers in the waistband of her panties. “No!” she shrieked, her pride warring with her need to not have her naked ass on display to Emma. “No Ma’am!” she forced out quickly. “I won’t be any trouble.”
A self-satisfied smirk pulled at the corners of Emma’s lips. “Good.” She let go of Jean’s panties and rested the paddle against them. “How many do you deserve, little girl?” she asked with a leer at the woman bent over in front of her.
Jean groaned, though a tiny little part of her was enjoying herself despite the humiliation. She chose to ignore that part. “I don’t know, for God’s sake Emma!” she said frustratedly.
Emma raised an eyebrow and in one fluid motion she yanked Jean’s panties down to join her pants and landed a sharp, stinging crack of the paddle on the redhead’s naked backside. “What did you say to me?” she barked.
Jean cried out in pain and gripped the desk hard. “Aaah! I’m sorry! Oh God that hurts, Emma, please, I’m sorry,” she pleaded.
“Excuse me?” Emma asked, bringing the paddle down hard a second time, thoroughly enjoying her role.
Tears stung Jean’s eyes, her ass already on fire after only two strokes. “I meant Ma’am,” she said in a shaky voice, the tightening in her stomach betraying her sensibilities. “I-I’m sorry, please Ma’am…”
Emma nearly purred, determined to keep Jean in her place until she was ready to allow her otherwise. “That’s better,” she said softly. “But I’m not going to stop. I make the rules and you follow them, young lady. Is that clear?”
Jean tried so hard to fight her next words but her body overpowered her mind and she bit her lip before answering. “Yes Ma’am, I’ll be a good girl.”
That was more than Emma expected and the longing ache between her legs made itself known with a painful throb. She again leaned over Jean, her lips capturing Jean’s earlobe for a quick nibble. “Whose good girl?”
Jean almost completely lost her composure, a gasp escaping her unbidden. “Y-your good girl,” she whispered.
Emma wanted to drop the paddle and devour her, but she had a lesson to teach and she intended to see that Jean remembered it. “Very nice,” she praised Jean’s answer. “Now, you are going to receive eighteen more strokes for a total of twenty, to make sure you remember to stay away from my possessions.”
Jean bit her arm to muffle her sound of protest. Twenty? She was sure she already couldn’t sit comfortably after only two!
Emma rested the paddle on Jean’s ass once more, then pulled back and delivered a series of six stinging blows one after another before taking a pause.
Jean quickly lost the fight to stay quiet and still. She yelled out with each stroke and tried to squirm away from the merciless paddle.
“No,” Emma said sharply. “You said you were going to be my good girl. Now hold still.”
“I’m trying,” Jean whispered, tears finally forcing their way down her cheeks at the admonishment. Nobody could hold still for such an assault, it was against human nature!
“Try harder, darling. I want you perfectly still while I spank you. It shows me you know you deserve it and accept it.”
Jean wanted to argue that Emma ought to try it then, but she didn’t. The woman was holding a rather mean implement, after all. “Yes Ma’am,” she answered instead.
“There’s my good girl,” Emma said with a smirk, rewarding Jean with a gentle rub over her bright red stripes before she returned to the punishment. Another six strokes fell, catching Jean’s upper thighs as well, and at that Jean yelled a curse Emma hadn’t even heard before. She would have scolded her ‘charge’ but the curse was followed by outright sobbing. Jean had given up any fight left in her and just cried.
“Just six more, almost done now,” Emma said in a soothing voice, running her fingertips over Jean’s blazing skin.
The coolness of Emma’s fingers felt good, but Jean knew there were more strokes of the paddle about to come so she couldn’t really enjoy it. She tensed up and buried her face in her arms, hot tears continuing to course down her cheeks.
Emma debated taking it easy on Jean and stopping at fourteen, but if she did then she wouldn’t be Emma, and she drew back once more, wielding the paddle with poise and grace… and brutal strength.
The six final cracks echoed throughout the room and Jean knew that her yells could be heard by others in the mansion. She didn’t care, it hurt too badly not to scream. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good,” she found herself stammering even though the punishment was over.
Suddenly Emma was leaning over her again, rubbing her back and murmuring softly in her ear.
Jean couldn’t stop crying, though her sobs did calm a bit to quiet tears. Her backside burned and stung like she couldn’t believe, and her face burned and stung with the humiliation of enjoying it even while hating it.
Emma knew Jean well enough to read her, and on top of that, Jean was projecting again - very strongly this time. “Jean, darling,” the former White Queen began slowly… “If you enjoyed that so much, why are you crying?”
“I-I didn’t,” Jean lied in a shaky voice.
“Oh. You didn’t?” Emma asked, pretending to be surprised. “Hmm.” She slid one hand down Jean’s side, over her right hip, along the outside of her thigh, moving inward. She stopped her hand at Jean’s mid inner thigh. “What will I find between your legs, Jean?” she asked in a husky voice. “I mean besides heat - I can feel that from here.”
Jean gasped, frozen. She couldn’t answer that! And oh God, Emma’s hand on her thigh sent pulses of pleasure straight upward. She wasn’t actually going to---… was she?
“Will I find you all wet, Jean?” Emma drawled, her hot breath tingling the back of Jean’s neck. “Wet for me?”
Jean bit her lip against the moan that tried to come out, only half succeeding in muffling the sound.
Emma didn’t intend to let up. Her fingers crawled toward Jean’s heated sex even as she continued speaking. “I’m not going to touch you unless you say it, Jean,” the blonde hissed. “How wet are you?”
Jean shook her head and Emma poised her free hand against Jean’s bruised ass.
“Answer me or you’re going to get spanked again,” she threatened. “How wet are you?”
Jean’s cheeks burned with shame but she couldn’t take another spanking. “Really wet,” she admitted in a tiny, breathless voice.
“Mmm, good girl,” Emma purred, inching her hand further up Jean’s thigh.
Jean groaned. She needed to be touched badly by now and pushed her hips down toward Emma’s fingers.
Emma retreated and shook her head. “What made you so wet, Jean?” she asked in the most purely un-pure voice Jean had ever heard anyone use.
“Oh God Emma, please,” Jean begged, not sure whether she was asking Emma to fuck her or leave her alone.
“I’ll ask once more,” Emma said darkly. Her fingers danced with a featherlight caress across Jean’s aching clit, retreating as soon as they made contact. “What made you so wet?” she repeated.
Jean wanted to cry again. It was hard to admit it to herself, let alone someone else. She choked on the words before finally forcing them past her trembling lips. “Y-you did,” she admitted. “And… and the sp-the spanking…” There… now Emma could just have her laugh and send Jean away, she could stay in her room and never come out again.
“Do I sound like I’m laughing?” Emma asked, her own tone rather breathless, her ice blue eyes ablaze with passion.
Jean really had to stop projecting. “No,” she answered the question, unable to help noticing that Emma’s fingers were now stroking the flesh of her inner thigh, maddeningly close to where she wanted them buried. She had a feeling Emma wouldn’t be quick or merciful about this.
“Now that we’ve established that,” Emma forged on dryly, her fingernails digging lightly into Jean’s skin… “What is it you’d like me to do to you, Dr. Grey?” Her voice dropped a few octaves and sounded positively scandalous.
Jean lost her breath for a moment, struggling to fill her lungs with air. She couldn’t very well enjoy herself at this game if she were dead, now, could she? And God, how she wanted to enjoy it… she’d never imagined having Emma treat her this way, be interested in her this way, but now that it was happening, she was wetter than she’d ever been in her life. Scott was a good lover, but she was practically coming and Emma hadn’t even touched her yet. Now that was skill. “I-you know what I want you to do,” she exhaled.
The White Queen leaned even closer to Jean’s ear, letting her tongue snake out of her mouth to lick and suck the blushing appendage before biting down firmly on the lobe, making Jean jump. “Do you want me to walk away and leave you alone?” she asked. “No, that’s not it…” Her tongue worked its way inside Jean’s ear, her breath hot and seductive. “Do you want me to fuck you, Jean?” she hissed, her fingernails clutching Jean’s thigh to the point of lightly puncturing the pale skin…
“Yes!” Jean gasped, delirious with need, the torture driving her insane. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire, burning and sparking and begging to be sated.
“Hard and fast?” Emma continued, dragging her nails further up until her fingertips rested between Jean’s legs, twirling the fiery curls around them.
“Yes,” Jean answered, parting her thighs in invitation.
“Do you want it to hurt?” Emma’s voice was low and dangerous, hinting at what she was capable of…
“Yes,” Jean groaned, and as soon as the word left her mouth Emma roughly thrust two fingers inside to the hilt, pulled them out and pounded in again, making Jean cry out in pleasurable pain.
“Talk to me, baby,” Emma whispered, planting wet kisses along Jean’s cheeks and jawline, down her neck, marking the redhead with her teeth.
“Oh God,” Jean replied, barely able to form coherent thoughts, but she wanted to be a good girl and Emma had asked her to talk… “Fuck me, Frost,” she begged, somewhere in the back of her mind realizing that Emma had marked her neck and she’d have to explain it to the team, and what would the students think?
“Stop thinking and just feel,” Emma commanded, pumping her fingers in and out a few times and then probing with a third, stretching Jean a bit and pushing very slowly inside. “And beg,” she added with a smirk to herself. “It makes me so wet to hear you beg.”
Jean ground her teeth together against the pain, but it felt so damn good it was worth every second. It was that kind of pain that hurt in an exhilarating and absolutely amazing way. Hearing Emma’s last statement, she thought she might fall over, it was a good thing she was bent over her desk and not standing on shaky legs. She licked her lips, imagining what the blonde might taste like, and she wanted to make Emma feel how Emma was making her feel. “Please, harder, I want you to hurt me,” she begged as per Emma’s request. Not that she was entirely just putting on a show for her lover… every word she said was true. She just wouldn’t normally say it out loud. “I need you Emma, I need your fingers, I need you to take me and make me yours. I need-“ she stumbled over the last statement, unsure whether she could force the words out, but she tried hard. “I-- I need you to fuck me like I’ve been a bad girl…”
Emma purred out loud, rewarding Jean with a bruising kiss, tongue invading her mouth and claiming every inch of it while she gave a particularly rough and possessive thrust of her fingers. “You have been a bad girl,” she informed Jean. “Very bad. If I could, I’d take a whip to your sweet, sweet flesh while I fucked you… but I only have two hands and one mouth,” she said, bringing her thumb around to rub Jean’s clit firmly in a circular pattern. She used her telepathy to plant a picture in Jean’s mind of just what she’d like to be doing to her, and Jean screamed, her body tensing and shaking as Emma drew her orgasm from her like a vice, pulling out every last drop Jean had to offer and bringing her fingers to her lips in a suggestive display.
Nothing had ever felt so good, Jean was certain of it as her clit spasmed and sent a wave of heat and ecstasy through her veins, rendering her speechless and motionless across the desk. She had to close her eyes when she saw Emma starting to clean off her fingers with her tongue, but the blonde wasn’t having any of that.
“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. She placed her fingers on Jean’s lips instead. “Open up,” she demanded quietly, but a demand nonetheless, not to be argued with.
Jean had never tasted herself, or any female for that matter… Scott had never asked her to do that and she was rather hesitant to comply.
“Open up, darling, or I’m going to slap that pretty face of yours,” Emma repeated the command in that tone that only Emma could manage.
Jean’s eyes widened a bit and she opened her mouth before she could think any further. Emma’s fingers slid easily between Jean’s lips. They were soft and warm - everything they hadn’t been while fucking her - and Jean closed her lips over them, sucking softly, running her tongue along each one and cleaning them properly. It didn’t taste bad… she really didn’t have any taste to compare it to, it didn’t taste like anything she’d ever experienced. The smile on Emma’s face would have made it worth it, though, even if she hadn’t enjoyed the flavor.
“Good girl,” the White Queen praised her, patting her cheek firmly a few times… certainly not a slap, but not a caress either. Jean was surprised to find that she liked it. She tried not to show it, but damn Emma Frost picked up on every latent desire Jean didn’t even know she possessed. “You like that, doll?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. In a rare moment of genuine respect for another person, Emma tilted Jean’s face up to look her in the eyes. “May I slap you harder?”
Jean’s heart started pounding again and she swallowed, finding it very difficult to do so past the lump in her throat. She stared at Emma, searching her eyes for signs of her thoughts and feelings, her intentions, whether or not she was going to pretend nothing happened come tomorrow. All she found was expectancy and quiet patience while Emma waited for her to answer the question. Was that okay with her? The fact that Emma had asked her permission made her feel good about it… Scott had never done anything rough with her in his life, so this was uncharted and scary territory for her. Scary, but exhilarating. Scary, but absolutely fucking incredible. She didn’t know she could… feel… so much. Looking into Emma’s eyes, she swallowed once more and then gave the slightest nod of her head.
Emma closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of Jean’s hair, kissed the top of her head, and guided her to a standing position. With one hand she braced the side of Jean’s jaw, and with her other, she patted Jean’s cheek a few more times before landing a stinging slap to her face.
Emma’s left hand prevented Jean’s head from snapping to the side, and she was grateful for that… she gasped and closed her eyes, her cheek immediately throbbing from the blow. The air left her lungs in a rush, and she stood breathing hard in front of Emma, her thighs tightening at the tingle running through her belly.
Emma slid her left hand around behind Jean’s neck to grasp a fistful of her hair and squeeze, gently pulling Jean’s face toward her own for a kiss. This time she was slow and soft, warm and tender, kissing her almost chastely and letting her tongue caress the perimeter of Jean’s lips before delving inside her mouth. Her right hand gently stroked Jean’s cheek, and when she pulled back she again stared into Jean’s sparkling eyes. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” she breathed in a whisper.
The question, and the way Emma asked it, surprised Jean. She studied the woman in front of her for a few moments before slowly shaking her head. How could she possibly be having any effect on the White Queen? Emma was all poise and grace, she never got flustered (well, unless someone put her sunglasses up Scott’s ass, apparently), she never had a hair out of place or a feeling she couldn’t control. She was at the top of the proverbial food chain, never outdone or outwitted, never impulsive or irrational, never hot and sweaty, always cool and collected. But right now the look in her eyes was anything but traditional Emma Frost. She looked like she’d jump into the flames of hell if Jean jumped first.
Movement caught Jean’s eye and she glanced down to see Emma stepping out of her panties. “Feel me,” the ice queen said in a shaky voice, the first time Jean had ever heard it so - she sounded almost insecure… but Jean knew that was impossible. She felt fingers closing over her wrist and guiding her hand toward Emma’s white leather skirt. She was actually about to touch Emma Frost.
Emma guided Jean’s hand up under her miniskirt and between her legs, her knees almost buckling as she felt tentative fingers stroking her wetness.
“Oh,” Jean gasped, her mouth falling open as her fingers met slick heat. She liked the way Emma reacted to her… “Don’t fall,” she quickly said, pulling her hand away.
“I don’t care if I fall through the fucking floor,” Emma responded, urging Jean’s hand back beneath her skirt. “Touch me.”
Part 2
Jean shifted her position slightly for better balance, and winced as she was reminded of her incredibly sore, well-paddled backside. She looked up into Emma's blazing eyes and a question sprang to mind. As she hesitantly stroked her fingers over Emma's swollen flesh, she had to ask. "Why did you really spank me?" and after a pause, she added "Ma'am?" in a sultry tone.
Emma stared right back into Jean's inquisitive eyes, her own clouding over at the question. "Now is not the time," she managed to get out in a cool voice, though her cool was quickly fading into a desperate fire that only Jean could put out. How long had she wanted this, waited for this, dreamed of something she was sure could never happen? She'd never admit it, of course, but Jean had been the subject of her fantasies for some time now. She hadn't intended to take things this far, she was sure Jean would reject her advances, but when she'd bent her over the desk for a spanking there was absolutely no turning back. Especially once she realized that Jean wasn't going to slink away at the first sign of rough handling. The woman could take what Emma could give, which was rare, and there was so much more she wanted to do to her... but right now all she wanted was the burning ache between her legs to explode into ecstasy. The fact that Jean was nervous but was still willing to touch her made the idea even more delicious. The tentative way her fingers moved was intoxicating and Emma wasn't sure how much longer she could stand up. Her legs had never failed her even in the most heated of moments, but they were shaking now, as were her hands and her heart. Her entire consciousness was wrapped around the most beautiful, enigmatic, interesting woman she'd ever laid eyes on... and the fact that said woman's hand was beneath her skirt. Who would've thought that Dr. Jean Grey could be so dirty? Emma's mind was having a hard time catching up with her body, but when it did, and she realized that no one else had ever seen Jean like this, that the pleasure was hers alone, she groaned softly, letting her eyes drift closed.
Emma's response to her question confirmed that the sunglasses were not the only issue between them, but she'd find out Emma's true motives later. Right now she was really, really enjoying the way Emma responded to her touch. All she had to do was move her fingers the slightest bit and the White Queen practically melted onto them. She could only imagine how warm it would be inside... True, she had never done this with a woman before, but she was a woman, and she knew what she liked. She moved her lips next to Emma's ear, careful to stay in her submissive role as much as possible, but she didn't intend to just wait for directions. She wanted to make Emma writhe and squirm and scream, make her feel so good she'd never come again without thinking of this encounter. She instinctively knew that using her voice would drive Emma wild. She whispered into Emma's ear, her breath hot and ready. "Ma'am... may I put my fingers inside you, please? I've been such a good girl for you, I want to please you so badly..." She dialed up the desperation in her voice to push Emma's buttons, and it worked better than she'd anticipated.
Emma gasped, her knees giving out, catching herself on the desk before she could fall completely. No one had ever been able to affect her this way, this strongly, it was a very foreign sensation yet so powerful she wouldn't have it any other way. She knew Jean was trying to push her, and she loved it. Jean could give as good as she got, even if it was in a quiet, submissive way.
The White Queen pushed herself back to her feet and took a seat on the edge of the desk, not trusting her legs any longer. Jean's sexy voice sent shivers up and down her spine, wetting her thighs in anticipation. She wanted Jean's fingers buried so deep inside her, she wanted it more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. "Yes, you may," she forced out calmly, her voice masking the white hot desire she felt in her chest. Something more than sex was going on here, and it scared the shit out of her. She had to stay in control.
"Thank you," Jean whispered, her fingers a bit more invasive and demanding now that she had vocal permission to penetrate the ice queen. She slid them around first, coating them with Emma's evidence of arousal, then slowly pushed two against Emma's entrance. "Ma'am... you might need to spread your legs a bit more," she suggested innocently, biting her lip as she looked down at the seated Emma.
Who was playing what here? Emma had to wonder, but she obliged, leaning back on her hands for support and splaying her thighs wide, giving Jean the most magnificent view she'd ever seen. Glacial mountains couldn't compare to the beauty before her, beauty that was all hers for the taking.
Jean blushed at the wanton display, pushing her fingers just inside, almost moaning at the feeling. Warm heat enveloped her, and she wanted more. More, more, more. Excruciatingly slowly she inched her fingers further inside, until they were completely imbedded in the White Queen's tempting core.
Emma lost a tiny battle and let a sound of pleasure slip past her lips, her eyes once again closing against the sparks of sensation Jean roused in her. "Yes, Jean," she breathed, her words barely audible, hips pressing forward with inscrutably measured control.
Jean took a gamble at taking some control back from Emma, curling her fingers to press against a very sensitive spot, making Emma gasp and throw her head back. "How does that feel?" she asked, stroking the blonde firmly...
Emma growled, the tips of her hair brushing the top of the desk, back arched, mouth open. "You have to ask?"
Jean grinned, stroking faster. "I'm trying to... oh hell Emma, you know what I'm trying to do. I want to make you come so hard that you can't think of anything but the way I feel inside you!" she hissed, her free hand raising to caress Emma's perfect breasts. Her nipples were rock hard... Jean couldn't resist dipping her head down to take one into her mouth. The white leather proved to be a barrier much too difficult to suck through. "Off," she ordered, pulling her fingers out and thrusting back in, searching out Emma's g-spot again and finding it easily.
"How do you ask?" Emma managed to scold before another moan escaped her. She fought hard to maintain the upper hand, she couldn't let Jean top her, she had just established her position less than an hour before. How would it look to Jean if she could just snap her fingers and make Emma drool? No, she had to hold back, she wouldn't let go. She didn't want to get off badly enough to risk losing her pride and authority.
Jean had had enough of that game for the moment, and whether she'd be paddled again for it later or not she really didn't care right now. "I said take it the fuck off," she growled, teeth bared as she dared Emma to refuse with her fiery stare.
Emma whimpered a protest, not really to Jean but to herself... she wasn't going to let Jean talk to her that way, not even with those skilled fingers fucking her senseless. Her nipples strained to push past the leather encasing them in painful binding... "Jean Gr--" she started to reprimand Jean again when Jean grabbed hold of her leather top and ripped it right off of her body. She didn't have time to get angry before Jean's mouth covered one of her nipples, tongue flicking against it and bathing it with heated attention.
The sound that came from Emma was primal. It couldn't be described any other way. Jean reveled in it, bringing her free hand to stroke and pinch Emma's other nipple lightly. Her thumb stroked Emma's clit in soft circles, slowly increasing the pressure until she had Emma's hips bucking against her hand, the White Queen's breathing ragged and sporadic. "Fuck!" the blonde yelled in a breathless display, struggling for air as her entire body came alive with pleasure. Jean was damn good at playing her body to the T... nothing she did was wrong in any way, everything felt so fucking amazing that Emma couldn't see straight. She gave an ear-splitting howl as she came hard on Jean's fingers, her hands clutching Jean's long red hair and holding the redhead's face to her breast as her orgasm flowed through her with reckless abandon. She would mourn her loss of control later. Right now she just screamed her pleasure into the classroom's stuffy air, her body collapsing on the desk with Jean's fingers still buried inside her.
Jean stroked slower to bring Emma down, then slipped her fingers out carefully and licked them clean before easily lifting Emma into her arms and sitting on the desk with the White Queen in her lap.
Emma immediately struggled out of Jean's arms, brushing her sweat-dampened hair out of her face and trying to regain a sense of propriety. But the hurt look on Jean's face quelched her need for adolescent pride, and with a sigh of defeat she sat back on the doctor's lap, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Jean's ear and kissing her lips softly. "Amazing," she whispered, trying for once not to be selfish. She wanted Jean to know how good it felt, how well she'd done, what a good 'student' she had been. Jean's earnest expression called for nothing else, and nothing else would do. The smile she was rewarded with calmed her irritation at her loss of dignity.
Jean was nervous to say the least until Emma said that one word and kissed her. She smiled, wrapping her arms around Emma and holding her close. She too felt something besides sex was going on, but she didn't have the will nor the energy to examine it just now. Whatever it was, they'd work it out some other time. She was about to say something when Emma's expression faded to one of displeasure.
"Now," Emma said, back in her usual self-assured state of being. "I'm not sure what made you think it was okay to order me around like you did, young lady, but let me assure you, it is not. You will never speak to me in that manner again, do you understand?" She stood up again, in front of Jean, her eyes twinkling as she looked at the redhead.
Jean blushed darkly, averting her eyes from the gaze boring into them, and curled her knees to her chest. How did Emma manage to make her feel like a naughty schoolgirl with just a look and a stern voice? When just moments ago she was running the show, suddenly she was on the verge of some sort of punishment... a punishment she was not likely to refuse... a punishment she was looking forward to, no matter what it might be. It had been far too long since Jean let her wild side out, her sense of adventure, and Emma brought it out with such ease that it was actually a relief to acquiesce to whatever the queen had planned. Jean's heartbeat picked up again with excitement, the unknown factor hanging above her head causing her to bite her lip against the smile she felt coming on. "Yes Ma'am," she answered in a properly penitent tone, lowering her eyes to stare at Emma's boots.
"I can't let this go, you do realize that, don't you Miss Grey?" Emma continued, the familiarity of this role putting her back at ease within seconds.
"Yes Ma'am," came the tiny reply.
"What do you think I should do about your lack of respect?"
Jean blushed even darker, hundreds of scenarios flying through her brain at lightning speed, each one dismissed as soon as it entered. It wasn't up to her. "Whatever you think is warranted, Ma'am," she answered obediently, lifting her eyes to the smooth, flawless skin of Emma's face.
Emma's grin turned wicked. "Let's go to my room, darling. There are so many toys I want to use on you... I think first I'll fit you with some steel shackles and chain you to my bed. Then I might get out my beautifully crafted singletail..." Oh, the possibilities were endless with a willing partner, and Jean was so obviously willing that it clamped a vice around Emma's chest, making it hard to breathe. Jean was the perfect submissive - petulant when called for, shy and respectful when it fit the scene, nervous all the time. Emma's more predatory instincts latched onto the nervous part of Jean, wanting to twist it into something sinister, but each time she entertained that thought, her heart pulled as she looked at Jean's open, beautiful, trusting face, and she reminded herself not to break her.
Part 3
Jean bit her lip at the prospect and moved to pull her pants and panties back up for the trek to Emma’s room when the classroom door blew off its hinges and there stood Scott and Storm. And now her fingers wouldn’t work, they were shaking too much, so she used her TK to yank her clothing back into place before she got even more embarrassed than she already was, which would be literally impossible. Her face was as red as her ass and she wanted to sink into the floor, wishing she had Kitty’s power for a moment…
Emma on the other hand - calm, cool, collected Emma - just smirked, made a slight show of leaning down to pick up her discarded white lace g-string, and strode toward the door, handing the very wet panties to Scott. “Be a dear and reunite this garment with my sunglasses, would you?” she said, smiling at Storm and stepping between the two of them out the door. She turned and leveled her icy stare at Jean. “Jean,” she ordered pointedly, “come here.”
Scott had not missed the red stripes covering Jean’s ass before she’d managed to get her clothes up, not to mention the redness of her left cheek, and the way Emma was treating her had him suddenly worried. “Did she hurt you?” he asked, ignoring Emma’s saucy comment about the sunglasses and starting to move toward Jean, but Storm got in his way, whispering something into his ear that made him look very grim but stopped him in his tracks.
Jean would have to thank Ororo later, whatever she said to him. “No, Scott,” she whispered, lowering her eyes as she moved past him to the door and the patiently waiting Emma. Dear God, this was humiliating. And the look on Emma’s face was a little scary. But this wasn’t her fault! And why the hell had Scott blasted the door instead of knocking?
Emma caught Jean’s thought and chuckled. “They did knock, darling, we were busy,” she answered the unspoken question with a wink.
Scott looked like he wanted to strangle Emma as he shoved past the three women and went off someplace to sulk. Just like him, Jean thought. Storm gave the girls a small smile, knocking Jean playfully on the arm. “That must have been some spanking,” she teased, and before Jean had the chance to shrink against Emma for protection from the teasing, Ororo tousled her already tousled hair and walked away, leaving Jean and Emma to (not) wonder what the two had wanted in the first place.
Emma of course smirked at the retreating Storm, then turned to Jean with a slight frown. “When I tell you to come here, you come here. You don’t look at anyone else or speak to anyone else. Is that clear?” she reprimanded her quietly but sharply.
Jean shivered. What had she gotten herself into? Oh who was she kidding, she fucking loved every minute of it. Emma could command her senses like no one else could. “Yes Ms. Frost,” she whispered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in an adorably nervous gesture. She felt Emma’s projected urge to stick her in a schoolgirl uniform and spank her again. At that she managed to squelch a gasp of surprise, not wanting Emma to know she’d received the thought.
“Good girl,” the White Queen answered regally, petting Jean’s hair and kissing the top of her head. “Follow me.”
--
Jean had never been inside Emma’s bedroom - it looked just like her. It felt like her too, and there was a slight chill in the air befitting the queen of ice. Everything was white, from the ornate bedside tables to the satin sheets and comforter, to the walls, the plush carpet, the leather recliner and the iron bed frame. Normally she would comment on the lack of color, but the precarious position she was currently in prevented her from daring to do so. She didn’t want to see that disappointed frown on Emma’s face again.
The sound of Emma’s lilting voice jarred Jean from her exploration of the room. “Shall I put out a ‘do not disturb’ sign?”
Jean scowled, shooting Emma a glare of her own. She wanted to forget that Scott and Storm had seen her like this, and it was just like Emma to torture her with the memory.
The White Queen closed the distance between them and stood with her face a breath away from Jean’s… “I’m going to wipe that insolent look off your face,” she promised, licking Jean’s cheek slowly before pulling back and giving it another good hard slap.
Jean whimpered, her knees going weak, that familiar tingle in her belly returning full force to haunt her. Why was she enjoying this? Emma had just slapped her face… and Jean was ready to do anything for her.
Emma absolutely adored the whimper Jean let out - it might very well have been the most erotic sound she’d ever heard. She purred and rubbed Jean’s stinging cheek, giving it a few firm pats and then forcing Jean to look at her with a tight grip on her chin. “Go into that closet,” she instructed, nodding toward the closet in question, “and bring me back something. You have two minutes.” She sent Jean off with a bruising kiss, then reclined on her bed to watch and wait.
A sound of disbelief could be heard from the closet as Jean opened the doors and looked inside. Black, everywhere. Not a trace of white… black whips, black chains, black objects that made Jean tremble. How was she supposed to pick something out when she barely knew what any of it was? Her eyes roamed the expanse of the rather large walk-in closet, and she ruled out anything sharp or too heavy. Had it been two minutes yet? She didn’t want to get in any more trouble. Finally a smooth black leather belt caught her eye, and she ran her fingers down the length of it, the feel making her stomach jump. She carefully took it from its peg and turned, walking back to Emma and holding it out to her while staring at the carpet. “Here,” she whispered.
Emma grinned, taking the belt and wrapping it around her hand a few times, holding onto the buckle for a base. “Very nice,” she said approvingly, nodding at Jean’s choice. “Take your clothes off.”
The command seemed to sort of come out of nowhere, and surprised Jean for a moment. Wasn’t Emma supposed to strip her of her clothes? This line of thought wouldn’t get her anywhere, though, and when Emma slapped the end of the belt into the palm of her own hand, Jean’s thighs clenched and she got to work getting undressed. The jeans and panties went first, and the cool air felt very nice on her backside. She unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off her shoulders, then removed her bra and started to fold her clothes.
Emma laughed. “Jean, what are you doing? Leave them and come here.”
Jean started at the voice, having not even realized she was folding the clothes. Habit, she supposed. With a sheepish grin she dropped them to the floor and climbed up onto the bed in front of Emma.
Emma leaned forward and kissed Jean’s cheek, then ran her fingers over the leather belt with a sigh. “I’m surprised you didn’t pick a strap-on.”
Jean blinked, glancing toward the closet. “I didn’t see any…”
“They’re in the first and second drawers of the étagere…”
The redhead’s lower lip worried its way out into a very endearing pout and her voice held a childish whine. “Is it too late to change my mind?”
Emma’s look spoke volumes, but she answered vocally anyway. “Of course. Now be a good girl and get on your hands and knees.”
Emma could hear another tiny whine as Jean complied, pushing onto her hands and knees in the middle of the bed, her head dropped between her shoulders, burgundy tresses splaying across the white satin comforter. The contrast was exquisite and Emma wished she had a camera within reach. She burned the image into her memory in case she never had the opportunity to do this again.
The White Queen kicked off her shoes and stood up on the bed, towering above Jean with a devious grin on her painted lips. She uncoiled the belt and folded it in half, pulling it taut with a loud crack, the noise almost sending Jean sprawling onto her front in surprise. If it sounded that painful, she could only imagine how painful it was going to feel. Her entire body quivered with anticipation, sweat already dampening the hair at the back of her neck.
Emma unfolded the belt again, grasping the buckle and letting the other end fall lightly across Jean’s shoulders and criss-crossed down her back. “You’re going to be my good girl and stay on your hands and knees, Jean,” she commanded in a very enticing drawl. “You’re not going to fall or we’ll start over.”
It was all Jean could do to get an answer out through the wave of uncertainty and arousal that washed over her. “Yes Ma’am.”
“Delightful.” And with that, Emma began. She drew the belt back and forward with practiced ease, landing a solid stroke across Jean’s left shoulder blade, avoiding the bones of course.
Jean cried out, her head shooting up and back, a stripe of heat rushing to the surface where she’d been struck. Son of a bitch, that hurt… and in a much different way than the paddle. It stung more, and it hurt ten times worse on her shoulders than on her ass. Another stroke caught her other shoulder blade, and she dropped her head forward again, gasping for breath. Her elbows wavered, but she pushed them straight, refusing to let herself fall.
Satisfied with her handiwork, Emma dropped off the bed to stand on the floor, and let loose with a flurry of back-and-forth strokes against Jean’s beautiful thighs. She was rewarded with another shout, and moved upward to strike the doctor’s bottom, painting a deeper red over the bruises already there.
Jean’s shoulders shook with her tears, which fell in a steady stream from her closed eyes, dropping to pool on the comforter below her. It hurt more than she thought she could take, but it was also so very cathartic. She felt freer than she had in a long time, the tears a long-needed release. Giving up control was hard… but the result was undeniably sweet. Reality’s everyday worries slipped away and all Jean had to think about was whatever Emma told her to. “Oh, please!” she yelled through her wracking tears.
“Please what?” Emma asked, performing a rather elegant move that allowed her to send the tip of the belt up between the redhead’s legs with a snap.
“Aaah!” Jean cried out, burying her face in one of Emma’s lush pillows, biting down on the corner of it and spreading her legs just a little bit further… “I don’t know,” she answered, her voice muffled against the pillow. How the fuck did Emma manage to reduce her to this?! Begging, writhing, opening her legs in a silent plea for more pain? Intensely erotic pain… Emma snapped the belt across her clit again and she let out a low, languid moan as an orgasm overtook her, sweeping through her like wildfire and burning everything in its path. Her eyelids fluttered and finally squeezed shut, her thighs clamping down on the delicate hand now between them as her body allowed Emma’s fingers the pleasure of a waterfall à la Jean.
Emma’s finely manicured fingertips skated through warm wetness, becoming coated in it before painting a line down each of Jean’s inner thighs.
Part 4
Jean didn’t think she could handle being touched anymore at the moment, she needed to let her body calm down, but she changed her mind when she felt a warm, wet tongue snaking up her thigh and bent her head down to see Emma’s face between her legs. They were in a slightly odd position and she almost rolled onto her back, but the stinging in her ass reminded her not to do anything she wasn’t given permission to do. “Em-mis-Ma’am?” she finally managed to stammer…
“Yes?” Emma asked, taking a break from licking up the mess she’d made to look at Jean with those normally icy blue eyes. Icy blue eyes that currently didn’t look very cold to Jean.
“May I please lie down?” Jean asked, keeping her voice as subservient as possible.
Emma bit down hard on one thigh, eliciting a yelp of surprise from the redhead, and then rolled Jean over, pinning her on her back. Her lips twitched in a devious sort of way, nothing surprising about that, and she reached her hands up to rake her fingernails down Jean’s chest and across her finely sculpted belly, leaving welts in their wake. “Yes you may,” she answered as she stared at the gorgeous woman beneath her. How had she gotten so lucky? She’d taken initiative, that was how. She just made her intentions known and-hellooo, attention on the naked woman in her bed or on psychoanalyzing the situation?! Naked woman, Frost… naked woman.
The blonde snorted derisively at her inner monologue and shook her head a bit to clear the unwanted academics. She smiled at the raised scratches along Jean’s front, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her lover’s ear.
Jean appreciated the tenderness and allowed Emma to see exactly how she felt through the expressiveness of her eyes. She felt loved, even though they hadn’t exactly been cuddling. She felt important, though Emma hadn’t been standing there singing her praises. She felt safe, even though she had just been beaten. She felt… alive, wonderful, blissfully happy… and she felt a deep sense of affection and respect and trust for Emma Frost. None of which had been there before the White Queen had inadvertently let her in. Maybe most people wouldn’t agree that Emma had let her in, but through her dominance, Emma had shown more about herself to Jean than she could measure. Things Jean didn’t think anyone else had ever been privy to. Wielding a paddle with merciless force, Emma was… human. Irony didn’t even begin to cover that paradox.
“Where’d you go, darling?” Emma asked quietly when Jean’s thoughts returned to the moment. She was above Jean on all fours, and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the doctor’s lips. An uncharacteristic wave of emotion swept over her without warning and she was horrified to feel the sting of tears behind her eyes as she looked at Jean and received what her lover was trying to convey through those soft warm eyes. She didn’t even know what the feeling was, it was impossible to classify, she hadn’t had much experience in the area. It was warm and fuzzy, not between her legs but deep in her belly, and resonated outward to encompass her heart. Now there was an interesting concept… she had thought her heart frozen for a very long time now, and sex of all things wasn’t likely to thaw it out. A strangled sob choked her and she fought the urge to run from the room, instead turning away and pretending she actually was choking, bringing her hand to her mouth and faking a few more coughs.
Jean was quick, not easily fooled, and sat up, taking Emma’s face in her hands and forcing her to make eye contact. “Emma?” she asked, shedding the pretense of submission in place of a sense of protection she suddenly couldn’t shake off.
“No,” Emma said, forcing her voice to be calm, cool and collected - the epitome of her personality. She wasn’t going to falter. Not now, not ever. She was Emma fucking Frost for God’s sake! This was absolutely unreasonable.
Jean didn’t want to argue but she wasn’t about to let Emma just get up and walk away when something was so obviously going on. So instead of a verbal rebuke, she simply slid her arms further around Emma and pulled her close, holding her tightly and stroking her hair.
“Stop it!” Emma shouted, feeling herself dangerously close to an uncharted edge, and a terror gripped her unlike any she’d ever felt before. She was about to lose her carefully crafted pretense… her shields were wavering. This was not the plan. The plan had been to punish Jean and walk away. The plan was beyond fucked up already, but she could still salvage a vestige of control.
Emma pushed hard, but Jean anticipated it and held her through it. She didn’t know what exactly was fighting to get out, but she intended to make sure it succeeded. “I can see you, Emma,” she whispered, kissing the top of Emma’s blonde head.
Oh God. That was it and the dam broke, Emma’s tears crashing out of her like a tidal wave against Jean’s chest. No one had ever really seen her, they hadn’t taken the time or made the effort, and Emma liked it that way. What they couldn’t see, they couldn’t hate. But Jean could see, she could see past all of the brick walls and fake smiles, past the defense mechanisms and arrogance, right into Emma’s fragile soul, and she wasn’t laughing. And she wasn’t walking away. Emma had many lovers, but never a single friend. Jean had been neither but suddenly she was both.
Years of abuse that she’d never cried over, followed by years of meaningless partnerships and unbearable loneliness even while in the company of ‘friends’, came pouring out of the fractured woman in Jean’s arms. It was like the fire of the Phoenix was melting her self-imposed cage of ice, except it wasn’t fire, or the Phoenix, but a little bit of sincerity and truth directed her way. And acceptance, which she’d never thought she’d receive from anyone, let alone Jean Grey.
Jean cradled Emma like a child, rocking her back and forth and occasionally planting soft kisses on her cheeks and forehead while she cried.
Part 5
Emma was humiliated, but the tears wouldn’t stop, in fact every time she tried to stop them they just fell harder. The helplessness and despair she felt at her display consumed her, and she clung to Jean as if to a life raft in the violent tide of the ocean.
And speaking of falling hard, Jean was doing just that, unable to stop herself. It was like the pieces of her life’s puzzle suddenly had color, suddenly all fit perfectly into place with no gaps. An overwhelming passion and devotion sprung to life within her chest, and in that frozen instant in time, Jean Grey knew she’d just fallen hopelessly in love with Emma Frost. But how could that happen so quickly, without warning? When they’d been less than civil to each other since the day they met? Was the hidden potential there all along, waiting to be sparked into life, or were they truly at odds and the switch had just been flipped? You couldn’t reason with love, she knew that much, and while she was sitting here trying to do so, Emma was falling apart in her arms.
Jean stopped trying to figure it out, and held Emma tighter. “It’s okay, Em,” she whispered tenderly, rubbing the White Queen’s back in slow circles. “I promise, it’s going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Emma registered that she’d just been given a nickname that didn’t start or end with ‘bitch’ or ‘frosty’. Frosty the Snowqueen had until now been her favorite by far, but upon hearing Jean call her ‘Em’ she changed her mind. It sounded so natural, so… sweet. Slowly her tears calmed to just a few trickles, but she wasn’t steady enough to let go of Jean yet. She hid her face against her lover, quite astonished at what had just taken place and more than a little embarrassed. She was actually blushing. So many firsts today. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into Jean’s chest.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Jean said gently, running her fingers through Emma’s long blonde hair. “And don’t you dare try to pretend it didn’t happen.” Yes, she knew that was a distinct possibility and was simply not going to allow Emma to shrug it off. Trying to inject some lightness into the situation, she added, “Or I’m going to spank you.”
That actually got a laugh from the blonde and she dared to look up into Jean’s smiling eyes. “Thank you,” she said, and it could be argued that it was the most sincere thing Emma Frost had ever said to anyone. How did Jean know exactly what she needed to hear? Other than being a telepath, of course. She knew Jean had not probed her mind. Maybe she was just that obvious. Or maybe Jean was just that perfect.
“For the threat?” Jean asked, raising an eyebrow at Emma.
“No,” Emma said, laughing again, surprised at how easy Jean was making this. “For… for… for-“
“You don’t have to say it,” Jean whispered, closing her lips over Emma’s in a loving kiss.
Emma was eternally grateful for the reprieve, pouring herself into the kiss, showing Jean with her body what she couldn’t convey with her words. She was falling hard too.