Chapter 12 - A Little Bit of X: Chapter 12


                                                    A Little Bit of X

                                                        by Volpone

                                                        Chapter 12

          A message was delivered early in the morning addressed to "Elizabeth Braddock" at
the mansion. No one who handled the message recognized Mystique's handwriting, which
was just as well or things might have gotten much more complicated.
          Moments after receiving the message, Betsy left quietly but very quickly by the side
entrance, silently hoping that she would still be in time to meet with the author of the message.
If she did... well, she'd decide what to do when and if she caught up with them.

************

          Not that much later, there was a note slipped under the windshield wiper when Quinn
reached his replacement car, and when he unfolded it, a smile tugged at his lips.
                    "We have a private party planned that you should remember for
                    a long, hard time. Meet us at..." (it gave a time and suite number at
                    one of the city's top class hotels) "We'll be waiting, luv."
          Instead of a signature, two feminine but distinctively different pair of lip-prints were left
in slightly different shades of brightly-colored lipstick at the bottom of the page. The intended
message was unmistakable.
          Hmm... sounded like it might be an interesting evening.

                                        ************

          Eight hours eastward, Jasmine and Indigo were sitting in Jasmine's quarters in the
hareem, discussing ancient Egyptian culture. Indigo had just finished a basic book on the
subject, but it had raised as many questions as it had answered for her and she couldn't risk
spending more time online when it could cause someone to examine her online activity.
          Fortunately, Jasmine had taken a course in ancient civilizations during her time at the
Sorbonne.
          In their time together, the girls had all formed relatively close relationships with one
another, often closer than relationships they had ever formed on the outside. All of them got
along quite well, but some had formed special bonds. Indigo, Primrose and Windflower had
always been rather close because of their common native tongue (even though their dialects
and idioms were wildly different). Arabic was spoken in the hareem when the men were
around, but English had become the language of the women's private quarters. This was only
natural. Jasmine was fluent in French and English as well as her native Arabic, and both
Rosa and Tulip had a very basic knowledge of English from their school days. Lotus had a
smattering of English phrases she had picked up from friends and relatives as well as her
short stay in America. Only Snowdrop had been completely lacking in English. It had made
the Czech beauty slow to make friends among the others, but her completely open and
guileless manner made the others want to help. Now all of the ladies of the hareem were able
to communicate relatively well, though Snowdrop was still very quiet overall.
          Of the bonds that had formed, Indigo had sought out Jasmine not so much for
company, but because the Ifaran woman was the only one of the group who had attended
college. Whenever she wanted to discuss something from the books she absorbed so
voraciously, Jasmine was her natural sounding board. Sometimes Jasmine knew less on the
subject than Indigo, but she was almost always willing to talk on most subjects. Avoiding
boredom was a major past time in the hareem because there was only so much time that
could be spent with companions who needed batteries.
          Indigo was asking about the difference between hieroglyphic and hieratic when
Snowdrop walked in and diffidently waited for a break in the conversation.
          Indigo realized she was waiting and smiled.
          "What do you need, Snowdrop?"
          In her heavily accented English, she asked, "You have Windflower make-up?"
          The Native American woman nodded. "Yes. She lent me her make-up case so I could
try out a couple of shades." The Aussie girl had the biggest make-up selection of any of the
women and was quite willing to share with her friends.
          Rising, Indigo turned to Jasmine and said, "I'll just be a second."
          Walking to her room, she asked the blonde, "What did you want from the case?"
          "I need..." She groped for the word she wanted, but couldn't come up with it. Instead,
          she ran a finger under her eye and said, "for dark."
          Indigo gave her a close look.
          "What do you need cover stick for? Sweetie, you look lovely."
          "I need not for eyes."
          The black-haired woman had found the case and was searching for the item as she
spoke.
          "If it's not for your eyes, what's it for?"
          Snowdrop decided to show her rather than explain. Without preamble, she skinned off
her top.
          Indigo winced at what the top had hidden.
          Both of Snowdrop's breasts were marked by several horribly discolored bite marks, as
well as a series of very dark, ugly oval bruises, obviously left by strong fingertips. One bite
looked as if had drawn blood.
          "Ouch! Sweetie, you need to tell them when they're getting too rough."
          Snowdrop shook her head.
          "No. Is okay." She smiled a bit, but it wasn't a happy smile.
          Indigo was not going to let it pass.
          "No, it's not okay. You can get badly hurt like that. You need to tell them to stop when
they hurt you."
          Snowdrop's eyes got large.
          "I cannot say 'stop'. Not my..." Again, she didn't know the word, but Indigo knew.
          "It's not your role." She went on. "But it is your role to stay healthy, and you won't if
you let this go on."
          "But is okay. I like... sometimes."
          Indigo knew she had an uphill battle here. Everyone knew about Snowdrop's
submissiveness that swung well over into masochism. They had all played similar games,
some with Snowdrop herself, but none of the other girls would participate in abuse this way,
either giving or receiving.
          Coming to a decision, she stood.
          "Wait here."
          Going into the common room that served as their living room, she said to the others
there, "Emergency meeting. Get everyone. My room."
          In just a minute, all eight women were sitting and standing around Indigo's quarters. If
the room hadn't been quite so opulently large, it would have been quite crowded.
          Snowdrop had put her top back on while Indigo had been gathering the others, but
Indigo asked her to remove it.
          The reactions of the other girls varied, but none of them looked pleased.
          Surprisingly, it was Windflower who was the most upset.
          "Listen. Fun is fun, but even I know when it's not fun anymore."
          Snowdrop looked around, and several of the others nodded.
          Windflower took her hands.
          "We all play games here. Most of us like games of some type." She gave a wicked
grin. "Especially me."
          Then she sobered again. "But I know it's just a game. You don't think I'd really want to
get myself raped, do you, luv? It's just pretend. A little danger to spice things up."
          She ran a gentle finger over a couple of the bruises on the upper side of Snowdrop's
breast. "This... is not a game."
          "But he is master." She actually used the Arabic word since she knew it well enough.
Just not in English.
          They realized they had some serious re-educating to do.
          Patiently and with some difficulty, they managed to convey to Snowdrop that the men
could do what wanted to only if the women agreed. They were there because they wanted to
be, not because they were slaves.
          The problem was that deep down, Snowdrop thought of herself as a slave. She had
been sold by her previous "master" to the Emir. The money she was accumulating in the
Swiss bank account was just some nebulous concept without any real substance. She had
never seen the money or counted it. It was just numbers in a little book. The book didn't even
have her name on it. How was she to believe it was real?
          On the other hand, the men here were real. Her enjoyment was almost always real.
Her friends here in the hareem were real. She was safe and warm, decorated with beautiful
jewels by her master. She had never even considered leaving the hareem as an option.
          "Any of us can leave when we wish," Tulip said. "We would not come here if not." Her
English was better than Snowdrop's, but still imperfect. (Indigo was not about to throw gas on
the fire of doubt where their current employer was concerned. Some of them might panic and
then they'd find out for certain if Indigo was being paranoid or not, and she still hadn't heard
back from Natalya.)
          Snowdrop was clearly shaken by the thought of leaving the security and company of the
hareem, especially of leaving the women who had befriended her.
          It was then the others began to realize just how thoroughly Snowdrop's circumstance
had left her with no options. Most of them had some other choice open to them, however
unappealing. The lovely Czech really had no alternative. Her former provider had basically
sold her, though they had called it a "finder's fee". Snowdrop had no family, no friends outside
of those there in the room with her, no home but this, and little experience with providing for
herself successfully. If she left, likely the best that might happen is she'd quickly fall into the
hands of some other person who would abuse her. There was no place safe she could think
to go. She would put up with a great deal to stay with them all. They had become her family.
Not one of the women would argue with that.
          It was Indigo who came up with the alternative. They needed to manipulate the
General into doing what they wanted, while making it seem his own idea.
          "Ask to see the doctor." All the women went through a thorough physical examination
every month as part of their routine. Most of the girls complained about it, hating the
gynecological exams as much as most women tended to.
          Indigo explained that a request to see the doctor early would send up a red flag. The
General knew how much they disliked being prodded. All of them were obscenely healthy.
None of them had ever needed medical attention before. If Snowdrop took time off for
"medical reasons", it would make it plain to the General and his guards to play nice or their
playmates would not be available. This way, Snowdrop could legitimately get at least a few
days of recovery from the rough treatment. If the behavior didn't change, they would go to
Plan B... solidarity in the hareem. She'd read Lysistrata and while finding it humorous, the
idea of withholding sex to affect change was also an insidious notion. It was clearly a new
concept as a form of unity for most of them. None had ever belonged to anything like a union
before.
          Wildflower was the first to second the motion.
          "Sure thing! Us shielas got to stick together, right?" She put her arm around the other
blonde's shoulder and gave her a sisterly hug. "They straighten up, or it's no more kinky
rumpy-pumpy." She looked at the other women for confirmation. "Right, girls?" Only Indigo
and Primrose really understood exactly what she said, but that was common with the Aussie.
          The others nodded.
          Tulip smiled and added, "We have our friends." She held up one of the new "toys" that
had arrived by special shipment. It was an anatomically correct vibrator, about ten inches long
and vivid transparent orange, and took several batteries. She had nicknamed it "Lars".
          Wildflower chimed in. "Too right!"

                                        ************

          At the appointed time, Quinn knocked on the door of the hotel suite, and a familiar
voice responded, "Come on in, luv."
          Settling his face into non-committal lines, he turned the knob and entered.
          There, sitting opposite the door were two women dressed only in lingerie. Their choice
of outfits served to prove that they were both extremely female and undoubtedly mammalian.
          The purple hair of the first would have been recognizable anywhere, and Betsy's face smiled
as he entered. Emma was sitting in the other chair facing him. A silver champagne bucket
rested on the small table between their chairs.
          Behind their borrowed faces, both women appraised the man who entered. So this was
the notorious Harlequin, eh? He didn't look so threatening... fit, certainly, and he moved with
an easy manner that suggested a dancer. He was actually attractive, with a pleasant air about
him and a very self-possessed quality that made him seem like an old friend. It made them
understand immediately why women might be inclined to take him as a lover. But dangerous?
He didn't seem so. Maybe that was the very thing that made him so dangerous. He would
make a most effective assassin if people trusted him so easily.
          "Betsy" started out by saying, "Emma and I decided that we wanted to give you
something really... special... to show our appreciation."
          He smiled knowingly, doing his best to hide his thoughts. His suspicions were aroused
more by attitude than by the evidence of his eyes. To every outward appearance, it was Betsy
and Emma sitting there.
          He still wished he could have left his web off so that he could use his perception. He
felt the sudden need for eyes in the back of his head. He would also have liked to be able to
use his neural induction ability, but his web prevented its use as well.
          Whatever their motives, so far they had done no more than impersonate a couple of his
friends. Quinn would not be the first to make an aggressive move. Maybe they merely wanted
to keep him occupied and away from the mansion. If that were the case, Columbina would
notify him immediately if anything out of the ordinary happened. It helped having ears in
several locations at once. And with her transporter capability, he could literally be back at the
campus in less than a minute in a genuine emergency.
          Still, they were obviously up to something, and deserved to be chastised for treating
him as if he were stupid.
          He decided to put them off balance. He had slept with women he knew were with the
opposition before in order to carry out a mission, and he was honest enough to admit that he'd
enjoyed partly because he knew who they were. Besides, if he played them right, he might be
able to use his own talents to his advantage.
          "Oh? A replay of our last threesome? Like I said, if that was what you wanted, I could
be persuaded."
          A look of uncertainty flickered across both their faces, but it was covered immediately.
Good... they were playing it by ear and didn't know exactly what "they" had or hadn't done.
They knew about Betsy somehow, but they clearly didn't know that Emma and he weren't on
such intimate terms. Someone from outside might have misjudged from their conversation
when he gave her a lift back to the Massachusetts campus. Whatever else, it did confirm his
suspicions about their being imposters.
          He took the opportunity to give the room a rapid once over. He noticed a very slight
rise in the coverlet over the left pillow.
          Now, if I were a weapon, I would most likely be... there.
          The one playing Betsy said, "We wanted to do something you would remember...
always." And together, they rose sensually to their feet. Standing, they were even more
scenic than seated.
          At least she didn't say "the rest of your life." That would have been too cliché.
          He decided that he would play the bedroom prima donna to keep control.
          "Well? What are you waiting for?" he asked impatiently. He tossed his coat onto the
bed, accidentally covering the spot he judged the most likely to hide a weapon. "Come on,
girls."
          The one impersonating Emma said, "We ordered champagne. We thought you might
want to relax... let us pamper you a little."
          He impatiently brushed it aside. He had to keep them off balance, unable to put
whatever plan they had into action.
          "If I wanted to talk, I could saved myself the drive. Tabitha would have been more than
happy to entertain me this evening back at the mansion. And alcohol takes the edge off."
          The two women exchanged a look. Things weren't going as they had planned. They
had hoped that they might be able to simply drug him without having to resort to using
feminine persuasion. It would have been much simpler then. They could even have made it
look like an accident. Now, they had to play along until they could get him so involved that he
wouldn't notice when one of them recovered one of the blasters they had secreted around the
room.
          Well, we knew it would probably come to this, thought Mystique.
          For ten-million, I'd fuck one of my dwarves, thought Bianca.
          And they began slowly peeling down, making a production of it, trying to keep his
attention.
          In moments, all three were dressed in their own skin, and each had a similar thought,
namely, This might not be so bad after all.
          Without clothes, the one woman still looked like an exact duplicate of Betsy, right down
to the tone of her nipples and the shade of her pubic hair. The other was every bit as
attractive as Emma, but having never seen Emma in the nude, he had to assume that she was
equally as convincing. If even Emma looked this good...
          Quinn knew he had to keep control to maintain any tactical advantage. Also, since his
perception was blocked by the field generated by his web, he had to keep them both where he
could watch them, or one might get impatient and try something rash.
          "Come on, girls, just like last time." He crossed and took "Betsy" by the arm. "Over
here, where we've got a little more room."
          "But we got this nice big bed..."
          "You know we won't have enough room. Besides, this carpet is plenty soft."
          "Emma" interrupted, "But we had something really special planned..."
          He stopped cold and a look of irritation crossed his face.
          "I thought we had this all worked out last time. I give the directions. But if you want to
change the rules, fine. I'm sure Tabitha would delighted to follow my suggestions." He began
reaching for his clothes.
          Both women stopped him.
          "NO!" they exclaimed.
          The Betsy look-alike said meekly, "We just wanted to do something a little extra nice."
He looked at them in exasperation.
          "What's with you gals tonight? Last time we played, you both said it was the best time
you'd ever had. Now either you were telling the truth, and we stick with what works, or you
were just stroking my ego and I shouldn't be wasting your time." He again reached for his
pants.
          "Emma" hesitated, then swallowed and said, "No, it really was... amazing... the best. It
was just perfect. Please... stay." The pleading tone in her voice may have been faked, but
she put one hand gently on his upper arm, smiled, and the fingers of her other hand gently ran
over the length of his penis. "Please?" She closed her hand around his warm, nicelyproportioned
rod, and involuntarily her pulse quickened as it twitched in response.
          He reached down and deliberately removed her hand.
          "Are you going to be good girls and follow directions?"
          "Emma" dropped her eyes and softly said, "Yes."
          "Betsy" replied, "We'll be good."
          A grin spread across his face. He slapped "Emma" playfully on the ass.
          "That's my girls! Come on."
          He positioned "Betsy" on all fours, then took "Emma" and put her head-to-tail in the
same position, her face inches from "Betsy's" backside. He took a moment to look at the two
and decided he was going to like this a lot.
          Kneeling next to the woman playing Emma, he leaned close, put a hand on her
shoulder, ran a finger down her breast to the prominent nipple and whispered, "Come on,
Frosty, you know what she likes." When she didn't respond immediately, he pressed on.
"What's the matter? You told me that eating a beautiful woman is your second favorite thing in
the world. Go on, darlin'. Give her a kiss."
          Bianca had no idea that he was fabricating the story out of nothing. The idea of Emma
Frost as a bi-sexual tramp was somewhat shocking, but Bianca was willing to believe anything
about the bitch who did her out of a position with the Hellfire Club. Thinking of ten-million
reasons to play along, reluctantly Bianca gently extended her tongue and ran it up the outer
lips of "Betsy's" exposed pussy.
          There was a slight exclamation of surprise from "Betsy", and at Quinn's
encouragement, "Emma" began probing the tender folds more deeply, trying to look as if she
were enjoying herself and incidentally bringing more surprised reactions of pleasure from her
co-conspirator. She kept her eyes open so that she could watch Quinn carefully, but he didn't
give her a chance to even slow down.
          Stroking a hand across her blonde hair, Quinn said, "There... that's a good girl." He
then moved around until he was facing both of them and knelt in front of "Betsy". Her eyes
were closed, and she was beginning to move involuntarily in response to the other woman's
cunillingus.
          "Here you go, Bets. Just the way you like."
          "Betsy's" eyes opened to the sight of a very large, very hard cock inches from her nose.
Despite the situation, Mystique couldn't help but lick her lips. She had an intensely strong sex
drive, and Bianca's tonguing was arousing her tremendously. Her nipples crinkled in
excitement, her full breasts swaying with the slight motion of Bianca's mouth pressing against
her slick lower lips. For a moment, she lost her priorities and thought, I'm going to fuck this
guy blue. We can always kill him later.
          Wrapping a hand into her hair, he pulled her face forward, and without any show of
reluctance, Mystique began giving her intended victim a surprisingly enthusiastic blow job.
          The sensation of Bianca's tongue running across her clit was electrifying to Mystique,
and as she sucked more and more of Quinn's cock into her greedy mouth, she began to feel
the first stirrings of an orgasm rising from somewhere south of her solar plexus. She hadn't
intended to enjoy herself this way, but had been prepared to do anything, including fucking her
victim unconscious if it would give them their chance. Now, she was more than ready to draw
things out as long as possible before they carried out the contract.
          Mystique was no shrinking violet when it came to sex. Sabretooth was father to one of
her children, and he was considerably bigger and much, much rougher than this Harlequin.
When Sabretooth had decided he wanted a little head, he would put a huge hand to the back
of her neck, force her head down to his fourteen-inch cock, growl that "Little Victor needs
some attention, sweet lips", and proceed to stuff every inch he could manage into her tightlystretched
lips. He'd then proceed to face-fuck her savagely for several minutes, literally
rattling her teeth sometimes, until he squirted his massive load into her mouth for her to
swallow down. She had passed out several times before she learned the trick of relaxing her
throat enough not to gag.
          This was going to be a walk in the park by comparison, and as Bianca found and
concentrated on her clitoris, Mystique took a deep breath and ran her lips slowly down the full
length of him, sucking him down with glee.
          Again, Quinn wished he could shut off his web and feed impulses directly into their
pleasure centers. Experience had taught him that a woman who had just had a truly
electrifying orgasm was less likely to wish him physical harm.
          "Oh, so that's the way of it, eh?" said Quinn, and wrapping both hands into her purple
hair, he began to slide his stiff-standing prick full-length into her waiting mouth.
          After two minutes of rather intense fellatio, (and an orgasm brought on by Bianca's
tonguing) Mystique was enjoying herself more than she had in years. Her piece of play acting
with the gigolo they hired for their video for Worthington had been about getting results from
their target, not about having fun.
          After five minutes (and two more orgasms), she was still having the time of her life, but
the pleasure of sucking his incredible cock was losing a little of its sparkle as she began to
have doubts.
          When he showed no signs of slowing at ten minutes, she knew that she was in trouble.
She had talent and enthusiasm, but she'd never had to learn stamina as well. Though far
more cruel and insensitive, Sabretooth never managed to last more than two minutes. Her
lips were sore and her tongue ready to cramp, but she knew she couldn't simply quit in the
middle of things. In desperation, she forced herself to go all out, and with the muscles of her
jaw and throat screaming protest, she applied every bit of suction she could muster, rotating
her head, swirling her tongue, concentrating on the sensitive ridge around the head, bringing
every wile in her arsenal to bear, and after he pumped himself into her face another twenty or
thirty times, she was finally rewarded as Quinn groaned, strained, and suddenly filled her
mouth with his sperm. Her tired muscles gagging slightly, she swallowed again and again as
he shot what seemed to be a quart of his sweet-salty come into her spent mouth. He might
not be as huge as Sabretooth, but he certainly came as much.
          The sound of his coming brought Bianca's attention back to him, thinking that it might
give her the opportunity she needed, but his smiling eyes greeted her with a wink.
          When he had spent himself utterly, he eased off for just a moment, then told Mystique,
"Okay. Now you get to lie back and enjoy." For the next portion of his idea to work, he
needed to almost immobilize the one playing Emma, and get this one distracted as well.
          As he flipped the first shape-shifter over onto her back, Bianca thought she was going
to be in for a breather, but then her redirected mouth back between Mystique's strong thighs to
her eager cunt, whispering lascivious encouragements to her.
          "Come on, Queenie, don't ease up now. Here." He straddled Mystique's prone form,
facing "Emma", reaching down and spreading the lips of the purple-haired pussy before her,
guiding her down with a hand behind her head. From that position, there was no way she
could fake anything, so she again went to work, flicking her tongue across the clitoris he
helped to expose, and Mystique again bucked in response. After sitting there and directing
her for another minute of two, he moved Mystique's legs so that her ankles crossed behind
Bianca's neck, effectively pinning her head.
          He moved off Mystique so that he could lean close to Bianca and whisper, "God, you're
beautiful when you do that." He ran the back of a gentle finger down her cheek in passing,
then moved behind her, and she thought she knew what was coming, though how he could be
ready again so quickly was a surprise.
          He had to take her completely by surprise or she would likely wiggle free. That is, if she
were going to object, which she might not. He knew many women who didn't.
          Taking both of her hands, he pulled them back until they met behind her back and her
face was pressed even more firmly into "Betsy's" throbbing snatch, her wonderful breasts
mashed against the soft pile of the carpet, and he took both wrists in one hand to keep them in
position. She hated being pinioned in such a submissive position, but objecting might bring a
fit of pique from "Herr Direktor", and she needed him relaxed and distracted.
          Taking a philosophical view of the situation, she decided to enjoy herself if she could.
          Looking down, Quinn thought she looked amazingly provocative, and her ass was one
of the finest he had ever seen, smooth, taut, and magnificently curved without being overly
muscular. And very inviting.
          Down boy, he told himself. Not yet.
          He reached behind himself with his free hand, retrieved a container of lubricant from his
jacket pocket, and smeared some over his semi-erect cock.
          Using his free hand, he began to massage the outer lips of her pussy, gently at first,
letting her relax and begin to enjoy the sensation, then by gradual steps, he began to increase
the intimacy of his touch, and he could feel her growing slick under his attentions. He slid a
finger between the fleshy lips of her vagina, parting them, and an involuntary moan came from
her throat as she curved her back downward, raising her hips, tilting herself so he had easier
access to her hidden treasures.
          Unbidden, Bianca thought, Damn, it's a shame we've got to kill him. He certainly knows
his way around a woman's body.
          Slowly, he began to impale her very wet cunt with a finger, then a few moments later,
with two, and he began to concentrate more on the area of her clitoris, sending delighted
shivers over the beauty before him, the muscles lining her cunt grasping his digits strongly and
squeezing him in pleasure.
          Mystique began to moan louder, and Quinn realized that his manipulations must be
getting to "Emma" more than he anticipated, making her enjoy her oral duties more than
before.
          He was again fully erect and rarin' to go. Shifting slightly closer, he took hold of his
cock and began to run the head up and down the lips of her pussy, and she sighed in
anticipation. He continued teasing her like that for several more seconds, then when he was
in the right position, he ever so slowly began to press forward, and as the crown of his erection
disappeared inside her, a greater moan of pleasure came from her as he penetrated.
          By the time he was fully entrenched in her most intimate places, Mystique was growing
increasingly vocal as Bianca transmitted some of the enjoyment she felt to her through the
actions of her tongue. In moments the metamorph impersonating Psylocke was shaking and
crying out, her hands clutching at her breasts as another climax swept over her.
          He began slowly rocking back and forth, enjoying the feeling of her delightfully tight cleft
as it clutched at him, and Bianca again expressed her vocal appreciation. Harlequin might be
a bastard, but he was good.
          He began to withdraw completely on each out stroke, then reinsert himself on each
return, using the flaring crown of his prick to stimulate her most sensitive areas.
Quinn couldn't be positive if she were faking or not, but it seemed that the present
object of his affections was rapidly approaching climax, so he decided to put his scheme into
effect.
          Psychic abilities usually required concentration to maintain, and he knew several things
that were the most likely to ruin someone's concentration: among the most obvious were
surprise, intense pleasure, and intense pain. He decided on a combination of all three.
          Just as she seemed ready to peak, he withdrew fully but didn't re-enter her.
          "You didn't think I would forget your favorite thing in the world, did you, Frosty? Now
just relax." And with that, he put the head of his well-lubricated cock against her anus and
pressed forward... hard.
          He caught her completely unprepared.
          Bianca had never taken a man anally before, and as she tried to object, pain shot
through her as if she were being split in two. Her eyes flew wide and she cried out in pain, her
tongue and lips ceasing their caressing of the pussy they had been bringing such pleasure to
just seconds before, but she was unable to pull away and the sound was muffled by
Mystique's labia. Without Quinn preparing himself with lubricant, he never would have made
it. Then he was in and buried to the hilt in her tight ass.
          "There, deary, just the way you love. Right?" He began to pump into her, and tears
began to leak from Bianca's eyes. She shuddered, but no more sounds came from her as she
submitted herself to the inevitable.
          Knowing that this was the moment of truth, he dropped his shield, ready to raise it again
at the first hint of mental intrusion.
          The woman in front of him appeared exactly the same as with his web on, the same
shapely back, the same full, round breasts, the same smooth, taut backside. No psychic
attack rose to assault his mind, so he assumed he had indeed managed to destroy her
concentration, if she was even capable of psychic attack.
          He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the two women and the distinctive
muskiness of sex. Even if he had been completely unsuspecting as to the two women's
identities, his nose would have told him that they were not the women they appeared to be,
especially with their scents exaggerated by the smell of rut. He did a rapid perception of the
room and spotted six hidden weapons. My, they must have been expecting quite a bit of
trouble! He shut off his perception and returned his concentration to the magnificent creature
before him. Seizing his chance, he quickly tracked the neural pathway to the pleasure center
of her brain, and before she could recover, he gave her an intense jolt to the spot that
controlled sexual response.
          Her rectum clamped down firmly on his tool and her muscles began to buck as the
unexpected orgasm took her and shook her like a pennon in a gale. Spasm upon spasm of
ecstasy rolled over her, and she whimpered as the tears of a new type continued to roll down
her cheeks.
          Quinn continued to drive forward into her ass, feeding intense pleasure directly to her
brain as he did so, and he closed his eyes, allowing the sensations to wash over him. Every
few thrusts, he would give Bianca another jolt of ecstasy, and she would cry out anew as the
strange combination of pleasure and pain racked her nerves.
          After several minutes of this, Quinn allowed his orgasm to begin to build, starting from
way down inside but swelling rapidly, gaining momentum, and he let go of her wrists, grasping
her by the hips and enjoying the feel of her extremely womanly curves under his palms.
Then he slipped down into her mind as he triggered her next orgasm. He rode along
with her, his own body responding to the pleasure she herself felt, and just at the peak of her
climax, his cock swelled and spewed its cargo of sticky semen deep within her ass. Bianca
cried out and buried her nails deep into the pile of the carpet beneath them.
          Just as his orgasm subsided as his breath began to return to normal, he felt the cold
metal of a blaster barrel against the bone behind his left ear, and the voice of Betsy said,
          "Hope you enjoyed yourself, luv. It was your last."
          And she pulled the trigger.
          The concussion from the point blank blast threw Quinn's body sideways to the floor,
and Bianca cried out again in pain as his cock was wrenched from her abused rectum.
          When she regained her breath, Bianca hissed out, "You could have at least waited for
him to pull out!" She shifted slightly, rose to her knees and winced broadly at the discomfort
she was feeling. "I won't be able to sit for a month!"
          "With your share of ten-million, you can afford to buy yourself some Preparation H."
Mystique resumed her normal, blue-skinned appearance. "I took advantage of his being
distracted, just as we planned. No use crying over methods or timing when it's too late to
change."
          One moment Mystique was standing with the blaster casually pointed in the general
direction of Quinn's motionless form, and the next there was a stinging pain as an impact
wrenched the pistol from her hand, sailing it across the room and out of reach. She hadn't
even seen him begin to move before his kick had sent the gun spinning from her grasp.
          Bianca started to turn toward where he had been lying on the carpet, then instinctively
reversed her direction, intending to dive for the nearer chair and recover the blaster cradled in
the lining underneath it. She hadn't much more than begun when her wrist was seized and
her world exploded in the most fabulous orgasm she had ever known.
          As Bianca lost consciousness, Quinn quickly turned his attention to Mystique, and as
she aimed a kick at his midsection, her foot sped harmlessly by as he rolled with unbelievable
speed out of its path, seized her ankle on its way by, and the heat-lightning climax that
coursed through her dropped her like a sack of sand.
          He stopped her from dropping hard atop Bianca by catching her falling form and
depositing her the chair she had been occupying when he arrived. Feeling for the major nerve
that runs down the outside of the leg, he pressed his thumb briefly but sharply into the flesh at
her hip, then repeated the same process with the other woman.
          While she remained unconscious, he placed a hand on her cheek and did a fast mental
reconnoiter, deciding that the one playing Emma was a reasonably adept psy power, quite
likely stronger than himself, but much of her once active power seemed locked away in a
dormant area of her mind. As a result, she probably wasn't so overwhelming that he couldn't
kick on the web and shut her out before she could do any real harm, if she had any offensive
psy capability at all.
          When Bianca came to a few moments later, she too was sitting in the chair she had
been occupying when he had first entered the room. Remarkably, she was unbound.
Mystique was sitting in the other chair, and Harlequin was lounging casually on the
edge of the bed. All six blasters sat beside him atop the coverlet. The bucket and
champagne bottle had been removed from the end table, effectively removing the last weapon
from her reach.
          Apparently not much time had elapsed because they were all three still in a state of
complete undress.
          Her first instinct was to feign relapsing into unconsciousness until she could spring for
one of the weapons, but she immediately realized the futility when she noticed the charge
magazines had been removed from the guns.
          "You can relax and show yourself." He addressed Bianca, indicating that he knew she
was not in her true form.
          Focusing her power for a moment, the body of Emma Frost shifted and became that of
Bianca LaNiege. Quinn was very surprised that the woman was every bit as beautiful and far
more exotic looking that the woman she had been impersonating. Why she'd ever want to
look like anyone else was a mystery to him.
          "Feeling up to explaining yourselves, now?"
          His calm, unthreatening delivery was somehow more unnerving than the more
aggressive approach she might have expected under the circumstances. Bianca shifted
slightly, flinching as pain again lanced from her much used derriere. Her right leg was
apparently asleep since it didn't move when she tried to shift positions. Well, that ruled out a
frontal attack, which she somehow knew would be an exercise in futility on her part.
          Mystique looked up, and put a brave face on things.
          "We're dead anyway, so what possible reason could we have to help you?"
          His eyebrows went up, and he looked somewhat non-plussed.
          "Well, I'm certainly not going to kill you. I might be highly put out with you if I discover
that you hurt Besty or Emma in order to take their places, but if that were the case, I'd just turn
you over to the Professor and let him prefer charges. I might be more vindictive if you've done
either some lasting harm, but I imagine that's not the case. Am I right?"
          "Yes. We just wanted them out of the way for a bit so she couldn't spoil the surprise.
I'm sure Frost is still in Massachusetts. We had Worthington as our… guest, and used him to
get Braddock out of the way temporarily."
          "Not exactly what I'd call a friendly gesture, but I assume you didn't do anything
irreversible." Since he had arrived at the mansion, the X-Men and he had taken several
persons in as involuntary house guests, so he didn't have the right to play holier-than-thou
concerning kidnapping laws. "You might want to keep clear of Betsy for a while. She might
not be in a forgiving mood. On the other hand, I've always had a hard time holding a grudge
against beautiful women, so you don't have to worry about what I may do. Murder isn't my
style, especially of women I have had an enjoyable, intimate relationship with."
          Mystique commented, "But people who just happen to get in your way are disposable?"
          He made a time out signal.
          "Wait a second, we seem to be having a breakdown in communication. Since I can't
really consider hot sex as the same as a formal introduction, let's start over again.
          "Hi! I'm Harlequin. I'm also called Quinn. I'm here trying to help out the Professor and
his team.
          "Judging by your descriptions, you," (he looked at Mystique), "are Raven Darkholme,
better known as Mystique. Let me see... you've been a member of the CIA, Freedom Force,
X-Factor, and several other less reputable organizations. You think mutants have gotten a
raw deal in life and want to correct it, by force if necessary. Other than your methods, we don't
disagree on all that many points. However, you're something of a loose cannon, as this little
episode has demonstrated.
          "And you..." (he looked at the white-skinned woman), "I believe you must be Bianca
LaNeige. I got your description from the little raid on the Westchester campus. You're a psymutant,
former member of the Hellfire Club, and I understand you have an intense dislike of
Emma Frost, but I'll be damned if I can see where that involves me.
          "I've never met either of you before today, and so as far as I know, I haven't given either
of you cause to wish me either good or ill. I certainly didn't give you cause to go to such
elaborate lengths to seduce me and then try to whack me, so I have to admit I'm at a loss.
          "I also have no knowledge of the ten-million you were talking about when you thought I
was unconscious, but I can only assume someone offered you money to take me out. If that's
the case, I'm going to be really disappointed, over both the motive and the price. I have little
sympathy for hit-men, or in this case, hit-women, but the price should be ten times what you
were offered, all things considered."
          "You seem to have a high opinion of yourself." It was Bianca's observation.
          "No, just realistic. If you were offered ten-million to put me out of someone's misery,
and they told you a blaster would do it, you were suckered." He pushed aside the hair behind
his left ear out of the way, showing the undamaged skin underneath, only a small patch where
the hair had been burned away. "See? Didn't even raise a welt." He let the hair fall back in
place. "But I wouldn't blame your source too harshly. Whoever hired you honestly may have
not known. I don't advertise the fact.
          "Now I'm not too worried about somebody bursting in and trying to shoot me. I doubt
they'd have any more luck than you did, but I don't want you ladies caught in the crossfire. Are
you working alone, or should I worry about them bombing this room to get rid of witnesses?"
          Mystique shook her head. "We're freelance, just the two of us. We didn't want to split
the reward any more."
          "And speaking of the money, did you actually need money so badly that you were
willing to blow away a harmless stranger? And to sleep with him first just for the opportunity?"
          As a former intelligence agent, Mystique was undisturbed by his question, but it seemed
to sting Bianca, since she said, "You're a bastard."
          He smiled, unmoved by her statement. "Not according to my birth certificate, but I take
your meaning. I'm sorry if you feel ill-used, but you chose to play seductress as the pretext to
get me here. Just because I actually carried through and enjoyed your considerable favors
isn't my fault.
          "By the by, in case you actually care, I think you're both a couple of minks."
          With a growl, Bianca forgot her disability and lunged at Quinn, hands curled into claws.
          When her leg failed to respond, she simply ended up falling unceremoniously to the floor
several feet short of her intended victim.
          "I'm sorry you feel that way. It really was intended as a sincere compliment."
          He reached down and grasped her by the upper arm. As he lifted her, Bianca snarled
and again tried to claw at him.
          Mystique looked on curiously as Bianca suddenly stiffened, gasped, and raked her nails
down the outside of Harlequin's shoulder, not in anger, but in pleasure as she had another
massive spontaneous orgasm.
          He gently deposited her back in her seat as her breathing returned to normal and he
tenderly ran a hand down her cheek, then sat back in his previous spot. His shoulder showed
no sign of the welts she expected to see from the clawing he had gotten.
          "Are you all right now?", he asked Bianca.
          The woman glared and panted out, "Don't ever do that to me again." However, her
words seemed to lack force, as if she were half-convincing herself that she was saying what
she wanted.
          "I don't enjoy inflicting pain, so under the circumstances, I thought pleasure more
appropriate. When you misbehave, you'll just have to suffer through another of those horrible,
nasty orgasms. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such abuse."
          Without turning to look at her companion, Mystique said to her, "He could have as
easily broken your arm, so I'd consider myself fortunate and shut up."
          To Harlequin, she said, "That's a convenient talent to have."
          He nodded acknowledgment to the exotic blue-skinned woman.
          "I've found it useful on occasion. Now, back to our muttons. Were either of you
involved in the plot on Bishop M'bui?"
          Both women were obviously surprised at his suggestion.
          "Where did you get that notion?"
          "I've been digging into the assassination attempt for some time, trying to discover who
was really behind it. I knew Jacobson was set up before it broke in the news, so I just thought
that might be one of the reasons my name came up on the hit parade."
          Mystique had long since realized that they had no chance of collecting the bounty, and
she wasn't sure any more if she really wanted to any more, so she might as well surrender to
the inevitable. She had strong survival instincts that had kept her breathing through more lives
than a cat, and so decided that if she couldn't get the money, she would try to settle for
escaping whole and avoiding prolonged jail time. She was out some pocket change, but had
gotten a couple of world-class orgasms in return. She could call the whole episode a draw
and be satisfied. She'd figure some other way to get the cash she needed.
          After another moments thought, it sank in that Quinn could have shot them full of
sodium pentothal or some other babble-juice while they were unconscious, then disposed of
them permanently when no one was looking. Once she realized this, she also realized he
might not be the individual she was led to believe he was.
          So she volunteered what information she knew, realizing that he would release them,
turn them over to the authorities, or kill them, according to his wishes, the former two growing
more likely the longer they talked. If he was genuine, Mystique could see herself wanting to
take advantage of their new amity. She'd met very few men who shrugged off murder
attempts with such a complete lack of rancor, especially their own.
          He nodded as she told him of the meeting commissioning her to sanction Harlequin, but
when she mentioned Pyro by name, he grew much more attentive. Paydirt! He would give
quite a bit to put the group who robbed Florentine out of commission.
          He admitted, "We knew that Pyro was involved along with Sabretooth and several other
mutants from the video of the robbery of Florentine, but this Arabic individual with him... What
could you tell about him? Is he one of the robbers?" This was a possibility that he hadn't
considered, but he hadn't shown up on the video.
          She shook her head. "He didn't say much, but it was clear that he represented the
money. I'd have guessed him for Saudi or such, possibly military or government, maybe
terrorist upper echelon."
          "Terrorists usually don't tend to offer contracts," he observed. "They like to carry them
out themselves or get zealous underlings to do it for the glory of the cause. Payment seldom
enters the picture."
          "That's what I assumed. They've got someone inside SHIELD, or with access to their
files, and SHIELD is keeping the mansion under surveillance."
          "We thought it was SHIELD, but there's no official word on an investigation. Interesting.
Anything you'd like to add?" he asked Bianca.
          While Mystique and Harlequin had been talking, she had been trying to "read" him, and
couldn't shake the impression that he was telling the truth. It wasn't her strongest talent, or
her most dependable, but she couldn't feel any deception. He didn't threaten, he didn't even
suggest that they had better cooperate "or else". Dammit, this had been much easier when he
was just a face with a price attached! Him and his damn instant orgasms...
          Without realizing it, Bianca was becoming conditioned. She desired him, and she
resented him for it.
          She gave what little information she had. "I became involved much later, after the
contract was offered. Mystique recruited me because she knew my talent for disguise could
be of use. I never even spoke to the one offering the contract. This is my first attempt as a
hit-person."
          "Very well. Let me think a couple of minutes." He wandered over to the other side of
the bed and was quiet for a moment. At least, that's what the women assumed. Actually, he
did a rapid consult with the mansion using Columbina as if she were a UN interpreter. When
he was told all systems were normal, and yes, they had a message from Betsy saying things
were fine, he rang off.
          "It seems you ladies were the victims of intentional misinformation. If you're willing to
overlook my not quite genteel behavior earlier, I'm willing to overlook your attempt to make me
the centerpiece at a fancy funeral."
          Mystique answered frankly, "I have no complaints about your behavior. We tried to kill
you and failed. In my line of work, that's usually fatal. As for the rest, I can't speak for my
partner, but I enjoyed myself."
          When Bianca didn't respond, Quinn handed them each the lingerie they were wearing
when he entered to make them more comfortable, which they slipped on as he retrieved one
of the robes from the bath for himself.
          "Are you ladies in a great hurry to leave? If you will allow me, I would like to extend an
olive branch. Do I have your parole? No more attempts to kill me while my back's turned?
Not that you'd be any more successful this time..."
          Both women nodded without speaking. They had both wisely concluded that their only
way out was with his cooperation.
          Crossing to the phone, he picked up the receiver, then paused.
          "Is there any objection to my ordering room service?"
          "How terribly urbane," was Bianca's rather sarcastic response.
          He spoke quietly into the receiver for several moments, then returned to his seat on the
edge of the bed.
          They spoke of pleasant generalities, and he tried to put them both at ease. Before
long, Mystique actually seemed to be enjoying herself (as much as she ever showed), and
even Bianca began to unfold a little.
          After about five minutes, there was a discrete rap at the door. Quinn retrieved his
wallet from his jacket pocket, slipped out a card, and went to the door, blocking the view into
the room as he took the cart from the bellboy and handed him the credit card with quiet
instructions.
          Taking advantage of the situation, Bianca softly said to Mystique, "What do you think?
Is he real, or is he up to something?"
          Mystique gave her an honest assessment. "Calling room service places him at the
scene. I don't think we gave him time enough to set accomplices here, so the bellboy's
probably genuine. Anyway, if he was going to, I think he could have killed us on half-a-dozen
occasions without anyone knowing a thing. We came in using borrowed faces, so nobody'd
even connect us with him. Besides, I just don't think he's into cold-blooded murder, regardless
of what the file said. It's just a feeling, but that feeling's kept me alive in similar cases."
          "I hate to admit it but I feel the same," was Bianca's comment. "I've been trying to read
him, and I don't detect any lies. In fact, the only thing I have picked up has been a rather
flattering... interest... on his part."
          "That's not all you got. You looked as if you enjoyed it much more than you want to
lead on."
          They continued conversing in low tones along a similar vein, while at the door, Quinn
was conducting business with the bellboy. He allowed the hotel worker no chance to see
within the room, but rather relieved him of his cart in the hallway with the promise of a sizable
gratuity when he settled his bill at the front desk. In a few moments, the underpaid staffer had
disappeared with a smile, and Quinn wheeled the cart into the room.
          The first thing he produced were two bouquets of long-stemmed red roses, which he
handed to each of the ladies with a bow. Then he turned back to the cart and rolled it within
reach of the women. It was laden with a wide variety of light delicacies suitable to making a
very self-indulgent snack for three, and included two bottles of the hotel's premier cru
champagne on ice.
          "Now, things are a bit more sociable. Would you ladies care to join me?"
          After Quinn had helped himself to a bit, Mystique followed suit, and Bianca somewhat
more slowly, but as she did, Raven asked, "I may be overly suspicious, but there is something
more that you want from us, isn't there?"
          He nodded and swallowed before speaking.
          "More than one thing, but I didn't feel a bite would hurt anything. Actually, I was hoping
that I might make good on the amount you were promised in return for a favor."
          Bianca almost dropped the morsel which she had been conveying to her mouth, and he
continued.
          "I hate to see you ladies walk away empty handed when you thought you were doing a
public service, so I'd like to pay you the ten-million... what was the currency?"
          Mystique answered calmly, "Pounds sterling."
          "...pounds for doing nothing more than letting me know if you are contacted again by
Pyro and his Arabian connection."
          "An extremely large paycheck for a simple favor."
          "Let's call a spade a spade... I'm trying to recruit a former enemy. The money is of no
use to me if the next assassins should prove luckier, so I consider it a wise investment in my
future." He would have gladly paid ten times that to get a crack at Pyro and his band of unmerrie
men.
          Mystique pondered a moment. "I have a way of contacting them to let them know if the
job was completed, and I'll use it to give Pyro a piece of my mind."
          "Can you get away with that? Using the contact number to just complain to them?"
          "Pyro and I have a history together, and while I can't say he's the most trustworthy
person, I would expect him to gather dependable information on such an important target
before bringing me in. It's a legitimate beef if he expects to do business with professionals."
          "I'd prefer you not tell him of my immunity, if you don't mind."
          She waved it aside. "I'll make it sound as if there was a leak on his end that ruined the
operation. He's suspicious enough to believe that. He also trusts me, just as before this I
tended to trust him."
"If you would let me know before you contact him, I would consider the money well
spent."
          "Oh," she smiled coldly, "it would be my pleasure." She might normally feel some
loyalty to her former colleague, but he had sent her into the lion's den with a pork chop tied
around her neck, whether he intended to or not. He would get no less than he deserved.
          "Good. Pardon me while I make arrangements." He rose and moved to the phone
again. A call to Columbina using the phone as cover, and the transaction was complete
before he got off the phone. When it was a matter of computers dealing with computers,
things could be accomplished quickly.
          While he was occupied, Mystique and Bianca made a quick plan of their own, this time
with a slightly different goal in mind. Their conversion from foe to friend was as complete as it
was sudden. It really didn't hurt that Quinn was so adept in bed. Or that he was both willing to
make good on the money they needed and wealthy enough to do it. For both of them, money
had always been the strongest form of aphrodisiac.
          When he returned, he handed one slip of paper to Mystique, another to Bianca.
          "The numbers are to Swiss accounts containing five-million British pounds each."
          "So quickly? I like efficiency in a man. I'll make the call before we leave, if that's
acceptable. Does that conclude our business?" Her voice dropped its business-like tone and
took on a much more sensual quality. "You did say you wanted more than just the one thing
from us."
          He grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "And I thought I had been too subtle in
my phrasing." He looked back and forth between the two women. "Though I must admit that
I'm not quite sure where this may be leading."
          The exotic red-head with blue skin rose languidly and let the negligee she was wearing
slip quietly to the deep carpet.
          "You let us worry about leading this time." She looked towards her partner in crime.
"Bianca?"
          The pale women let out a patently unconvincing sigh and followed suit.
          "I suppose it's only fair."

