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A Year Older But Not An Hour Richer update
🕑 Added 2020-12-11 15:00:00 +0000 UTCFor a moment, Peter froze, just looking at Felicia’s naked body—shocked that he was doing so with Mary Jane beside him, enjoying the same spectacle.
“Will you just look at her?” he breathed. “I mean, not to take anything away from you, MJ, obviously—“
Mary Jane chuckled, still a little drunk on all the good feelings that the oral sex had left her with. “Don’t worry, tiger, I’m not in danger of feeling unappreciated anytime soon.”
“Yeah. But. Shit. Look at her!” Peter took a deep breath and drank Felicia’s physique in as she preened for him, almost lovelorn in how he looked at her succulent breasts, barely drooping despite their fulsome size, but subtly arcing down with the reality of their heft.
The rest of Felicia’s body was equally gorgeous, even if her breasts were the fullest expression of her beauty. Her wide hips matched an hourglass waist, her long legs and arms were full of lean muscle, and her platinum blonde hair surrounded a striking face marked by jade green eyes.
Mary Jane licked her lips. Seeing Felicia like this even did something for her—not that Felicia ever wore much more than, well, nothing. “What are you going to do to her, Mr. Parker?”
Felicia grinned, her sultry lips curving the perfect amount. “Oh, he knows exactly what to do with me—don’t you, Spider?” She bent forward, flaunting her breasts.
Still staring appreciatively at them, Peter reached out and gave Felicia’s tits a slap. Felicia let out a little “oooh!” of surprise and delight as they jostled from side to side, their obvious weight speaking to how real they were despite their awe-inspiring size. Peter’s other hand lashed out, smacking her breasts the other way, and Felicia whimpered as her creamy flesh reddened from the violence of his strikes.
Mary Jane was taken aback. She’d been expecting Peter’s moves with Felicia would be more or less like what he did with her—as opposite as they were, it wasn’t like the two women were different species or anything. But she didn’t really recognize what Peter was doing with Felicia, or even Peter himself—the cold, calculating look he wore as he judged how much pain to deliberately inflict on Felicia’s body, while Felicia’s eyes scoured his face, begging for mercy… or for more?
Then Felicia’s eyes wandered to Mary Jane’s face—obviously seeing how conflicted Mary Jane felt at what she was witnessing. Her smile widened. “I’m not like you, Mary Plain. I can take it. I like taking it.”
And then Peter really surprised her. He grabbed Felicia by her white hair, forcing her head back, making her cringe as she looked up at his superior height to his glowering face.
“You’re really going to insult her, you dirty slut? When she’s my wife and you’re just a fucking whore?”
“Peter!” Mary Jane gasped in total shock.
Felicia held up a hand, warding her off with fingers trembling. “He’s right. He’s right. I’m a bad girl. I rob and I steal and I try—“ She smiled shakily. “I try to steal your man. Every chance I get. Because I’m a horny little cunt and all I want is to get fucked. Fuck me, Spider. And punish me for being such a dirty girl.”
Mary Jane squeezed her thighs together, letting an influx of feeling in to drown the itchy sensation she’d had in her cunt from watching Peter degrade Felicia—and now, Felicia degrading herself. She’d never talk about herself in such a manner, not even in the kinky games she played with Peter—being webbed up, bound, helpless, unable to resist. Even then, it was all about how she was his good girl, his lover, how much she trusted him, him giving to her until only the webbing held her in place and let her take more. But she wasn’t his whore. Even then, she was his wife.
Felicia, clearly, got something much different out of her relations with Peter and Mary Jane wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Holding Felicia at arm’s length with a death-grip on her hair, Peter marched her into the tile kitchen and thrust her down onto the cold linoleum floor. Mary Jane followed at a distance, sheepish, feeling like she was breaking a taboo by watching, or looking at something intensely private.
But Felicia seemed to enjoy having herself further degraded by there being a witness to her humiliation. Her breathing was heated, her eyes sneaking feverish glances at Mary Jane, who could not bring herself to go into the kitchen, but waited at the doorway, peeking in from behind the doorframe like a voyeur at how Felicia shivered on the floor while Peter stood over her, clearly in charge—commanding in a way he’d never been with MJ, even when all four of her limbs were bound.
Even then, it was more like a shared joke. A little game they played because he was Spider-Man and she was Mrs. Spider-Man. This… Mary Jane knew it had to be a game, but it didn’t seem like it. It came off so much more intense than that.
Peter walked over to the countertop, opened a drawer, and took out a spatula. He whacked the business end firmly against his other hand, appreciatively assessing the smack it made.
“Are you gonna punish me with that? A spatula?” Felicia laughed. “God, you really are domestic. Why don’t you tell Mary Jane what you did to me with your belt? Or the riding crops? Or the rattan canes?” Her eyes flashed to Mary Jane once again and the redhead felt like ducking behind the doorframe she was already practically cowering behind. “Oh, they were mine—my little collection—but he knew how to use them. He made me… his.”
Peter’s hand blurred away from his naked body, striking Felicia’s face hard. It twisted her head to the side, left her cheek burning red. Mary Jane gasped. Peter had to be controlling himself—otherwise he could’ve taken Felicia’s head off—but she still never would’ve expected such casual violence from him.
Felicia flashed a smile at Mary Jane, then turned back to face Peter. “Turn the other cheek—isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? C’mon, Spider—really show her what you can do to me… to only me…”
Peter didn’t exactly kick her, but thrust his foot between her breasts and pressed her down to the floor so that she was pinned there. Even without him putting his full weight down, Mary Jane was shocked at how demeaning the position was.
“You’d just get off on me hitting you, Cat. That’s what you’d do. So I’ll make a deal with you.” He nodded to the breakfast nook. “You get over that table. You stay bent over it while I give you ten spanks. No moving. No being a bad girl. You do that, then I’ll fuck you. If you don’t, I’ll web you to the wall and you can watch me fuck my wife.”
She looked up at him. He looked down at her. For once, Felicia’s gaze didn’t flicker to Mary Jane once. Instead, her lips parted moistly and she shook a little, a deep thrill passing through her.
Mary Jane brought her hand up to her mouth. It seemed shockingly intimate, what she was watching. She felt like she’d just seen Felicia come. No—she’d just seen the fiercely proud criminal submit.
Peter let her up, then smiled reassuringly at Mary Jane. “Don’t worry, she’d love to ‘just’ watch us do it. She took a bump on the noggin once and admitted that she’s thought about swinging by our window at night and seeing if she can catch us in the act. But that’d be just a little too pathetic for you, wouldn’t it, Cat? You prefer when I’m the one demeaning you.”
Panting under her breath, Felicia rushed to bend herself over the table, opening her legs and grabbing onto the far end with her hands. Her ass rolled up and down as she pressed her overheated mons against the cool Formica tabletop, then pulled herself off it again, weaving her ass up into the air in offering to Peter. She waited for the pain to come. She shook with her waiting.
“Very good, Felicia. Very prompt,” Peter praised her—MJ was reminded of how he cooed to her when she was taking all of him, sucking all of him. He always sounded like he meant it; she couldn’t imagine how it would sound whiplashing back from him degrading Felicia the way he had. “As long as you’re on your best behavior, you’ll be rewarded. Put your hand between your legs—play with your pussy. If you come while I’m punishing you, you’ll get a real treat, okay?”
Felicia gasped and nodded. She slid her hand underneath her body, down to her waiting pubis. Her legs quivered as she held them apart and Peter cocked his head to the side, watching with a keen interest as she entered herself with one finger. Mary Jane pinched her lips together. Peter didn’t look like a voyeur—not like MJ felt—but like he was judging the pleasure Felicia was getting, the pain she was in, the humiliation she felt, and deciding exactly what to do to her to… what?
Break her spirit? Get her off? Addict her to this sustained note of submission, this bondage fever pitch Mary Jane never would’ve suspected that Felicia could put up with? The woman had always been so independent, so self-centered, so daring. Mary Jane almost didn’t know how a sexual being like her could be doing as Peter said, running her fingers over her clit just as he’d told her to, rubbing herself and trembling with the passion that surged out of her own hand.
And at the same time, Mary Jane almost could see the appeal. She herself had observed that Felicia wanted to be Peter’s. Maybe this was a double dose of it, to make up for Peter really being with Mary Jane. But then, they seemed so familiar with all the quirks and rules of this little game. Had they really been doing this back before she and Peter had gotten hitched?
“That’s a good start,” Peter said approvingly, and for a crazy moment, Mary Jane thought that he was talking to her—sensing her line of thought. But instead, he was leaning over Felicia as she softly moaned. “You’re a good cat burglar, but you were born to be a sex slave, weren’t you?”
Felicia moaned, body heaving on the table, endlessly gratified by having Peter claim her. Mary Jane had heard the expression ‘ruined for other men’ and she even would’ve applied that to her and Peter, but with the way Felicia was giving herself over to him, she could honestly believe that this was the only man the Black Cat could be so devoted to her.
“One!” Peter announced.
“Oooohhhh!” Felicia sobbed as the spatula crashed into her backside. Her fingers blurred over her labia, trying to summon up enough pleasure to match the deep agony Peter was pushing into her flesh.
Christ, did I ruin her life by ending up with Peter? Mary Jane wondered, biting a fingernail. Imagine, being able to come like that… and then not getting to.
“Two!” Peter cried, the spatula whistling through the air until it cracked against the taut flesh of Felicia’s ass.
“Ohhh, Gawd!” Felicia keened, her ass thrust high into the air, her fingers rubbing frantically at her pussy. “I’m sorry for being such a whore, Peter! I’m so sorry!”
“Three!”
“Ggh! Yes, yes, punish me for being a whore, punish me—aaaahhhh!” She heaved on the table while Peter counted out the fourth hit.
“Five!” Peter barked as the spatula splashed another dollop of red onto Felicia’s pale ass, the creamy flesh now glowing like neon. His cock was stiff, throbbing visibly, dripping with precum, but he ignored it, totally focused on Felicia as Mary Jane recognized from when he was totally focused on pleasing her.
It seemed insane that a man could be so dedicated to pleasure and so dedicated to pain… Mary Jane went to him, not knowing what she was doing until she was pressed up against Peter’s side, running her hand over his stiffness as Felicia rolled and heaved in her growing passion.
“Six,” Mary Jane whispered to Peter.
“Six,” he agreed, pulling the spatula back.
“Oogghhh!” Felicia screamed when it sprang forward. Her ass shook and quivered, out of her control. All she could focus on was urging her clit into passion with her fingers, working herself towards the climax Peter was letting her have piece by painful piece. “Fuck, I was such a cunt! Whip me! Punish me! I need it!”
“Seven.” Mary Jane muttered it together with Peter as the spatula beat into Felicia’s flesh, making all of her plump ass ripple and quiver.
Felicia threw her head back, her mouth contorted between begging him to stop and demanding more. But the smile at play in her twitching lips said she knew which would win.
“Eight!” Mary Jane couldn’t even say it this time, only mouth it along with Peter. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. It felt like she wanted Peter to hurt Felicia—like they all did. And sharing that twisted desire seemed far more intimate than she had wanted this threesome to get.
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Shendude
Ooooh.
