The Taming of the Q

It usually went this way.
First an idle remark here, then a threat there. Soon, punches would be thrown, guns and mind-guns alike would be pointed at people threateningly. But like always, nothing ever came from these kinds of exchanges. It all seemed like a big farce. A joke. A constant charade perpetrating the same bullshit day after day. Anyway, after a while they would get bored, and a stream of multicolored and multi-formed beings would stream out the door to do whatever hoodoo that they do.
Black sneakers slapped the stainless steel flooring as Quentin Quire strolled out of the meeting hall with a shit-smoking grin on his face. As per usual, most of today’s flak had been caused by him. But he couldn’t help it, antagonizing those fuckhead chumps was ridiculously easy, especially with the handy-dandy ability to know what exactly will piss them off the most. But maybe he had gone a little overboard on fucking with Revy, who had sat through most of the chaotic meeting with a downcast gaze and twitching eyebrows.
Whatever, it wasn’t like she could do anything even if she wanted to, Revy herself had admitted that he’d win in a one-on-one fight. This statement combined with the general shock of the other Legionnaires had pushed Quentin’s arrogance to all new lengths, but in the back of his head he wondered if he wouldn’t wake up tomorrow dead in a jar again. He shook his head and turned the corner.
Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.
Combats boots pushed across the floor at a brisk pace. Toned, tan legs rose up to meet the gentle curve of creamy thighs, supporting the veritable fattest ass in all the Legion barely covered by faded Daisy Dukes. Flat stomach met black tank-top, containing breasts that—Quentin assumed—were unaccompanied by a bra. Revy’s trademark tribal tattoo flexed under straining bicep muscle. Amber eyes were fixed directly on Quentin.
He grinned. She must be a glutton for punishment or something.
“Howdy Two-Cans, lovely fuckin’ day isn’t it?”
Revy opened her mouth to accost him, or at least tell him to fuck off before putting a bullet in his head. Who did this little pink-haired punk in the drab clothing think he was?  She had experienced his type before, when she was living on the streets as a youth. Well, maybe not exactly like him, most punks she knew couldn’t tear a car in half with a stray thought. But he was a cocky brat, and one who couldn’t be expected to pull the trigger in the clutch. Quentin’s obvious mommy and daddy issues also definitely didn’t help him be any more personable. If anything it just caused the rest of the Legion to be subjected to the loud projections of his sexual repression. He hit on every female older than himself without fail, clearly looking for a replacement for the mother figure he never grew up with. Revy thought that if he wasn’t such a shitstain she might actually feel sorry for him.
“Yeah Kid Beta, sure, but it could stand to be better.”
“That right? How you gonna make it better, Rev? Put a bullet-hole in my head? You’d like that wouldn’t you, you crazy sicko.”
Revy sheared the distance between them with a few quick steps and glowered down at the mutant bot. Quentin grinned up at her, despite the uncomfortable distance between them and Revy’s obvious hostile body language.
Revy’s smile widened. This was going to be too easy.
“Look squirt, you talk a lot of shit about how “your X is gonna give it to me”, but you’ve never actually done anything like that, have you? How would ya like a shot at not being such a miserable little virgin for a change?”
She saw him freeze up and laughed to herself. For a guy who can know what you’re thinking as you’re thinking it, he sure seemed to get surprised a lot.
“I uh. I mean, t-took you long enough to beg for some of this, dude. Um-“
Revy’s eyes wandered while Quentin continued to sputter. She spied a broom closet with the door ajar.
Perfect.
Casting a quick look around to make sure nobody was looking, Revy grabbed Quentin and hauled him into the closet before he could make an even bigger ass of himself.
Quentin was thrown against the back of the closet as Revy closed the door.
“What the fuck you top-heavy cunt!?” Quentin seemed to have forgotten that he was dropping major spaghetti just a few seconds ago. Perhaps it was time to remind him.
“Fond of tits, are we?” Revy reached down and grasped the thin material of her tank top. Keeping an eye on Quentin, she slowly lifted it up to just under the small dents of her nipples, letting the pink-haired teen stare at the suntanned roundness of her underbreast.
It really was too easy.
“Get your pants off.”
Quentin complied easily, mumbling to himself despite his eyes never leaving the barest of hint of areola that Revy intended to keep hidden. After fumbling with his belt for the better part of a minute, Quentin was finally able to drop his black shorts, revealing a stiffening manhood and a thatch of pink pubic hair. Revy smiled.
“You’re in for a real treat today, kiddo.” Revy stroked Quentin’s hair before matting it into her fist and tossed him crashing headfirst into the corner. Before Quentin could voice whatever string of expletives he no doubt had planned, Revy was on top of him with a firm hand restraining Quentin by the back of his neck. Revy’s other hand trailed languidly along Quentin’s body before coming to rest on the top of his rear. Long purple hair obscured Quentin’s vision as Revy knelt down close to Quentin’s ear.
“You’re going to learn respect, little mutant boy, even if I have to rape you over and over again.”
The full gravity of the situation hit Quentin as Revy jammed a long finger inside of him, stimulating his prostate harshly. Quentin yelped as his knees buckled from under him. In desperation Quentin lashes out with whatever psychic power he can find; a telekinetic shockwave, a brain-liquefying telepathic jolt, even his trusty psychic shotgun. Anything, as long as it would end Revy’s assault.
But the psionic-dampeners that Luthor had rigged up to originally foil any act of subversion by Grodd, served now to make Quentin effectively powerless. The only extrasensory ability Quentin had left was an incredibly weakened telepathy, and when he saw Revy’s plans for him in her mind, fearful tears welled in his eyes.
Revy laughed and waggled the finger inside of Quentin wildly. A moan escaped Quentin as cum splurted from his oversensitive dick, thick ropes watering the floor like a hose. Ignoring his shaky panting, Revy dipped a hand into the puddle of Quentin’s seed, spreading it around her palm and wetting each finger meticulously.
“Quite an impressive output, especially from a little shit like you. But that was only the first one. I’m going to keep milking your bitchdick until you’re empty. Until you break.” Quentin’s sobs were rather audible now, tears cleaning the already stained floor. Revy scowled and ripped her finger out of Quentin, before delivering a spanking so hard it left an angry red welt on his right cheek.
“I don’t wanna hear any fucking lip from you, capisce? Maybe when this is all over I’ll let you cry in momma’s arms, but until then you keep that loud little mouth of yours closed, or I’ll find something to fill it.”
Quentin chewed his lip and stifled most of his escaping noise, although his body continued to shake with each breath.
“Good boy, now this next part will be all the more satisfying.” By this point Revy had spied an errant broom-handle in the corner of the closet. Devoid of an actual broom (maybe Carnage ate it, who cares), the wood was smooth and cool due to the constant moisture permeating the base. Revy plucked it from amongst the piled rubbish with her soiled hand, and began pumping up and down. Once properly wetted, she grasped the handle as if it were some sort of perverted sword, and nudged the tip against the entrance of Quentin’s ass. Despite the apparent warning from his telepathy, Quentin was still not prepared for this foreign intrusion.
Not wanting to be liable for any ass blood that might stain the closet were she to go about this too fast; and to spare herself from hearing the loudest of Quentin’s whining, Revy eased the handle into Quentin’s rear as slowly as her patience would allow. The pink-haired victim’s response was immediate, a loud yelp cut short by a slap from Revy.
It hurt. Revy was stretching him far beyond any natural means. But then why was his cock so hard? Waves of shakes rolled over Quentin as Revy adjusted the broom handle to crush against his prostate. Unsteady legs threatened to spill Quentin out from under himself again before tanned thighs encircled his as Revy mounted him completely, reaching back to grasp the broom handle once more.
Slowly, but with increasing pace, Revy began to rock her hips forward and back, dragging the makeshift dildo in and out with her. But just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Quentin didn’t even have time to probe Revy’s mind before she slammed forward, burying eight inches deep inside his pink. Revy sniggered as Quentin immediately salted the floor with more cum, and wondered just how long it would take before he would be shooting blanks. Pulling out a ways produced a truly wonderful tugging sensation, and rather than fight the natural inclination of the broom handle towards the depths of Quentin’s rear, Revy delivered the handle deep into the mutant’s ass again.
And again.
And again.
Quentin’s mouth hung open waiting for the scream dwelling in his lungs to explode out and alert somebody, anybody, about the terrible agony he was in.
 But no scream came.  The only sounds emanating from the closet was the awful squelching noise of coitus and the plip-plip-plip of cum and tears dripping onto the linoleum.
Hours passed. Days passed. Years passed. Quentin no longer had any sense of chronological order. The sole object occupying his mind was the solid mass penetrating him over and over. To the rest of the world he was deadened.
She would yell at him. She would scratch him and hit him. Revy’s enthusiasm for domineering was unending. Every time she forced another shot of cum from Quentin she threw back her head and laughed. But soon Revy feared that she might actually cum from torturing the young psychic. That was unacceptable, there was no way this little shit could give her pleasure, indirect or otherwise. So she stepped up the pace to the breaking point.
Sharpened nails dug into Quentin’s flesh deep enough to draw blood. From far away in his masochistic coma, Quentin felt the pliant pressure of Revy’s breasts against his lacerated back. A dull pain summoned in his ear when Revy bit it, cementing the fact that she truly was rutting him like a dog. But the rut season was soon to be over.
“Don’t let anybody tell you I don’t have any god damn common courtesy” Her breath was hot and wet against Quentin’s face, but he only moaned quietly. With her free hand Revy dove beneath Quentin and grabbed his painfully erect cock, eliciting a groan from Quentin. It felt like a small pulsating furnace. Sticky pre slathered the entire shaft, flying off in droplets whenever it seized. Revy took a few moments to appreciate the heat before her hand became a whirring, milking onahole.
Unfortunately, the tandem stimulation was far too much for Quentin’s already fraying grasp on consciousness. His eyes rolled back in his head and his tongue lolled out obscenely as Revy masturbated the final loads from his overworked dick.
Still draped over her conquest and breathing heavily, Revy extricated the broom handle from Quentin as fast she could. The wet popping sound would be in her head for the rest of the day. Standing up released her hold on Quentin’s thighs, which weakly fell into his own mess along with the rest of him. There wasn’t much room to stretch, but Revy managed, although she knew her calf muscles would ache for days to come.
 Observing her work, Revy couldn’t help but smirk at the crumpled mess on the floor that not five hours ago had called her out in front of the whole Legion. She noted that tears were still streaming down his face. Satisfied, she turned to leave, but something called her to turn back. Kneeling down, Revy lifted Quentin’s head by his hair until it was level with hers.
“I’m the Alpha bitch around here, and you’re just the Kid Beta, I think you might finally be on your way to learning this quality information. Sweet dreams, squirt.” Revy was unsure if Quentin could even hear her or not. Taking advantage of this situation, Revy darted her eyes around all corners of the closet before planting a quick peck on Quentin’s cheek, dropping his head in a wave of half-fabricated disgust.
Revy squinted against the harsh light of the fluorescents as she opened the door, casting one final look at her new toy before slamming it shut. She hoped Carnage wasn’t in the bathroom, she needed to masturbate.