“Oh shit, Peter…” Mary Jane lay back, letting Felicia get her off, the cat burglar’s screams foaming out of her pussy with each thrust of Peter’s shaft into Felicia’s asshole. “I don’t know if I can take being your bitch…”
“You will,” Peter promised her sightless, unhearing face, flushed with exhausted pleasure like she’d barely managed to survive being satiated. “You both will.” Then he roared, his prick thrusting deep into Felicia’s ass, his cum boiling in his balls. “Yeah, it’s here, it’s time, AAAHHHH!”
He pounded his throbbing erection into Felicia, pumping into her so fast that when the climax came, it was like everything was happening at once.
He shot out a webline, snagging a riding crop from nearby and yanking it into his hand. Peter got a firm grip on it just before he came. And with him, Felicia exploded into a final, immense climax.
She no longer knew what was happening. Peter’s manhood spilled its load into her bowels, shaking her entire body. With each spurt of cum, Peter lashed the riding crop across her back. Helplessly, she came to the pain it brought her. The more it lashed her, the harder she came.
Peter cried out with his member pouring out more hot seed into Felicia’s ass. She was flying, holding onto the crest of the most searing orgasm of her life. Her body trembled, driven to the limit, but she couldn’t reach the final pinnacle of satisfaction. Even though she wanted it more desperately than ever, now that she had everything else. Pain and pleasure. Felicia screamed, sucked, her face smeared with Mary Jane’s cream, her back arching and her hips pumping, her whole body thrusting to both Peter’s cock and the flicking crop. Suddenly she knew what she had to do.
“My nipples,” she begged into Mary Jane’s pussy. “Please, Peter, my nipples, I need it so bad—“
Peter reached down underneath her, grabbed one of her plump nipples, and twisted it as hard as he could. The pain barreled into Felicia from underneath, burning her down there as, from above, the riding crop snapped down onto her. Pain pressing in on her from all sides while inside, she felt the liquid pleasure of Peter’s cock.
Her head shot up, thrown back, eyes shutting. Cum filled her ass, her face dropped into Mary Jane’s wet slit, the riding crop lashed her, and with a final twist of her nipple she went over the edge, finished, soared down the wonderful slope of total satiation, her body slowing as more and more of it lapsed into the sexual contentment she felt.
***
Mary Jane was still swimming in pleasure when Peter undid the webbing holding her wrists and ankles, took off the earmuffs and blindfold that had kept her ignorant of Felicia even as she was brought to orgasm by her. At any rate, MJ only had eyes for Peter, seeing him like a mint after dinner.
She felt awash in satisfaction, covered in it, tasting it, smelling it. It was like she’d been coated in honey, had sunken into marshmallow fluff, was sucking on fine chocolate that never dwindled away to nothing. The feeling of warmth and softness and delicate tingling was never-ending.
“God, Peter, that was perfect…”
“I’m glad you thought so,” Peter said agreeably. “Only the best for my tigress.”
“But what brought this on?” Mary Jane asked idly, not truly curious—not with the energy for curiosity—but only wanting to talk to Peter and hear his voice as her satisfaction went on and on. “Blindfolding me, tying me up, not even letting me hear you talk dirty… were you saying smutty things, Pete? Because I might like to hear that.”
“It’s not that,” Peter assured her, patting his palm on her naked, satiated body. “It’s just that I really wanted to fuck and you wanted to be eaten out, so I brought in Felicia. She was the one licking your pussy. I was fucking her. I fucked her ass, MJ. I made her come while she made you come.”
Mary Jane blinked. If one thing could shock her out of how sexually delighted she’d been, it was this new secret Peter had suddenly revealed to her. “What? Peter, is this some kind of joke?”
“Of course not. My jokes are much funnier.” Peter hopped up, with boundless energy, and Mary Jane forced herself to sit up too.
Suddenly she saw Felicia, naked, her bare flesh as alluring as her revealing costume made it look. Even more, with her in bondage. Her hands had been webbed behind her back and a blindfold covered her eyes. She still wore her kittenish choker, but Peter had attached a webline to its tag, and now he picked up the other end and held it like a leash, giving Felicia a tug. She was blind otherwise, so she responded to the leash and got to her feet, unthinkingly displaying herself to Mary Jane. All of her, down to the cum trailing down her thighs from out of her splayed ass.
“She… she was going down on me?” Mary Jane asked, not horrified or offended—it’d felt too good for that—simply trying to place the source of her sexual ecstasy as Felicia. She was used to that kind of rapture coming only from Peter. It shocked her that Felicia had been involved… and yet, in a way, it had still been Peter’s.
Peter nodded. “Here’s the thing, MJ, because I know you’re having a hard time understanding this. I’ve decided I’ve had enough of love triangles and temptation and the two of you fighting over me. I care about both of you, and you both clearly need me, so from now on, you’re my slaves. My sex slaves, not to put too fine a point on it. So not only will Felicia now be doing as I say, but so will you, Mary Jane. In fact, the only difference between her and you at the moment is that you’ve had your turn. Now it’s Felicia’s.”
“You’re serious,” Mary Jane breathed.
“Yeah. And I did all this to show you how much you’ll enjoy being my slave. Felicia knows now too. She can see that there’s really no point in discussing it. She’s addicted to my cock—needs me to fuck her—so what I say, goes. After all, what I really want is to keep the two of you safe, happy, and as sexually satisfied as I can manage. Try getting a better deal than that on Tinder.”
“Then… this isn’t up for debate?” Mary Jane asked.
In a way, that was a relief. As naughty as she could be, Mary Jane felt obliged to defend herself somewhat, be at least a little modest and virtuous and all that, just to prove all the people who called her a skank wrong.
But here was Peter. Peter didn’t care. He liked her just as she was, so long as she enjoyed being his slave, and she’d already done that. She couldn’t even help that. So all a debate would accomplish would be for Mary Jane to argue herself out of a good time.
Peter wouldn’t allow that. He’d given her an ultimatum and it made the right choice staggeringly clear. She could kiss him, but she had a feeling he’d have her doing a lot more than that once she accepted him as her lord and master.
Once she officially did, that is. Mary Jane also had a feeling that her being Peter’s slave in word and deed had been a long time coming.
“I’m afraid not,” Peter said, with a grin suggesting anything but that.
Eagerness charged through Mary Jane. It’d been decided. She’d been decided. All that was left was for her to enjoy herself, as Peter’s willing and knowing slave, just as Felicia had.
“If it’s Felicia’s turn, then can I help?” she asked, her eyes gleaming.
Peter grinned at her, his smile growing slowly and languidly. “Of course you can. It’d only be fair, after what Felicia did for you. Of course, it was really for me—I loved watching you get off while I was pounding her in the ass.”
Mary Jane shivered. He made it sound so dirty. So wonderfully dirty. “You’re going to pay for keeping me from seeing that.”
Peter snapped his fingers. “That’s another thing. I’m going to need you to put your hands behind your back so I can tie you up.”
“Why?” Mary Jane asked.
Peter shrugged as though it were obvious. “Because I’m the master and you’re my slave.”
Mary Jane didn’t care how Peter justified his newfound, newly revealed fetish. She put her hands willingly behind her back and let Peter web them, comfortable but snug, making sure that though she wasn’t in any pain, she couldn’t use her hands in the slightest.
Again, Mary Jane didn’t care. She reveled in the feeling of power she finally had over Felicia. She no longer needed to worry about ‘the other woman.’ Now they were both Peter’s—no more rat race to be first in his affection—only whoever’s turn it was to be on the bottom.
YOU ARE READING
Slaves of Spider-Man
Romance"It was simple, in the end," Peter said, his voice darker and more serious than Felicia had ever heard it. "I want you all to be safe. I want you all to be happy. So, to do that, I have to make you do what I say. That means I need to do something to...
