Spidey Cyoa: Under New Management

Peter and Mary Jane stood back and looked at what they'd done.

Felicia hung from her arms, a webline tied overhead to an open rafter of the living room. Her feet barely touched the floor. Her ankles were bound by another loop of webbing. She wore her full catsuit, right down to the domino mask and the studded black collar.

The couple walked around the cat burglar, looking at the way her voluptuous body stretched. Peter was surprisingly pleased with his handiwork, while Mary Jane was naturally impressed with herself. It had been her idea, after all. They both liked having her tied up and helpless. As MJ had said, it wasn't as if Felicia didn't enjoy being that way.

Her blue eyes opened slowly. Felicia looked around in confusion. The last thing she remembered was pulling a heist—the excitement of the job was still fresh in her memory, thick on her tongue, but she also realized it was gone now. Its absence was sobering.

The job had gone wrong. Things had gotten loud. Spider-Man had stepped in and she'd been hit, but he must've saved her... so why was she tied up instead of resting comfortably? Much as she hated to rely on Peter, it was a plus when he brought her home like an affectionate stray and let her sleep in

their

bed until she recovered.

Maybe she enjoyed that a little too much, because Mary Jane seemed to be taking a lot of pleasure in the tables being turned. Had she prevailed upon Peter to actually turn Felicia in for her wicked ways? If that was the case, what was she doing in the middle of their apartment? Why wasn't she in jail?

Seeing she was awake and back to her senses, Mary Jane got in her face. "Listen up and listen good. Don't try to scream. The walls are soundproof; one of those little precautions we took so Peter's secret wouldn't get out. But we're in charge here and we've given you an order, so you disobey, you get punished."

Felicia quirked an eyebrow. She had no idea what was going on. What was the redhead even talking about? "Spider usually likes it when I scream."

Really

weirdly, Mary Jane took no umbrage at the slight. Just smirked like Felicia had unknowingly fallen for some prank or something. "You'll get your chance," she promised.

She walked around Felicia, looking at the way her gorgeous ass swelled roundly out from her slender waist to stretch her skintight leather to its limits, before narrowing down to the straight, smooth encasement of her long legs. Those legs dangled and Felicia's back bowed.

The posture thrust out Felicia's chest, open zipper between her breasts, sweaty skin gleaming within her parted catsuit. The fullness of her tits ran the catsuit as thin as it was over her hips, parting the downed zipper into a wide vee, inviting a closer look at the swath of pale skin that contrasted deliciously with the surrounding darkness. It was enthralling work to stare at her buoyant cleavage and barely be able to discern it from the white fur trim that was only a shade different in coloration.

Mary Jane trembled with excitement, wanting to pull that zipper down further and get a better look, for herself and for Peter. But she wanted to tease herself first. And tease Peter. Tease Felicia most of all, because Mary Jane

knew

when all the tantalizing would come to an end. She got to decide that.

Felicia didn't know. It would be the same sweet torture as when Peter webbed her up (webbed

them

up) and made the sole call of when and what to do with them. Only Mary Jane could leave Felicia hanging—literally—a lot longer than Peter.

The anticipation of what was going to happen to the Black Cat was almost as good as what would actually go down. Mary Jane knew there would be plenty of that second part. A feast of it. She intended for all of them to enjoy as much of the first part as they could stand before it gave way.

"It's like this," Mary Jane said, brushing some of Felicia's hair from where it had fallen across her admittedly lovely face. "Peter's been worried sick about you. You could get your kicks being a hero—then at least you'd be doing some good—but instead, you take things that don't belong to you. He worries you're going to get yourself killed, or wind up in jail, where you might get killed. Me, I'd say my husband has enough to worry about, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, I'd definitely be worried if I had a wife whose ass looks as good as yours," Felicia purred.

Mary Jane slapped her across the face. "This is serious."

Felicia snapped her gaze over to Peter. "Peter, are you going to let her—"

Then she saw. He was shirtless, wearing the bottom half of his Spider-Man costume, nothing else. An erection bulged in the groin of his pants. Felicia's body shook with almost unwilling arousal as she realized how serious this was.

Peter was used to her antics. He wouldn't get hard unless he was going to use it. So he was planning to use it, somehow, in some way. Maybe he and Mary Jane were about to go into the other room and fuck right on the heels of them giving

her

this domineering treatment. It seemed too twisted for them—the kind of thing Felicia would have to put real effort into seducing Peter into trying—but then, they'd been married a while. Who

knew

what married couples did once they'd run out of ways to incorporate webbing into the act?

"Why shouldn't he let me?" Mary Jane snorted. "It's not like you aren't enjoying yourself?"

Mary Jane took hold of Felicia's zipper. She drew it even further down—grinning as her hand brushed against Felicia's upthrust breasts—and the catsuit yawned open, letting out almost all of her chest. Every breath the cat burglar took shook her costume's slender hold on her breasts, in danger of the material sliding off the outer slopes of her tits and leaving them totally exposed.

It was scintillating. Felicia moaned at the touch of open air on her bare skin. And Mary Jane didn't stop pulling down her zipper until it got to where her white panties hugged her hips, showing the modest bulge of her cunt inside the satiny fabric.

Mary Jane's eyes glazed a little as she took in what she'd exposed. "Is that why you kept running into him back in the day?" Then she leaned in close, close enough that only Felicia could hear her whisper, but she still spoke loud enough for Peter to overhear. "When he webbed you up—held you down—made you submit—was it as exciting for you as it is for me?"

She hooked her finger into the elastic of Felicia's panties and pulled them up until the gusset outlined Felicia's mound, wet and tender. Felicia whimpered, but only because they weren't touching her.

"Yeah, it's that kind of party," Mary Jane told her.

"Since when?" Felicia asked, eyes slanting down to the ring on Mary Jane's finger, even if it was holding Felicia's panties.

Peter walked behind Felicia, as if to see how the panties disappeared between her buttocks—not that he could with her catsuit in the way. But the leather still adhered so tightly to the half-moons of Felicia's creamy ass that it made no seeming difference.

"Like I said. Peter doesn't like you being a criminal. I don't like Peter being unhappy. So both of us need you to stop being a criminal. But we have a bad case of being poor. Now, what can we offer you... what do we have that you want... how can Felicia Hardy

be persuaded..."

Felicia's eyebrows rose, disbelieving, but still titillated by the whole outré idea. "Are you telling me that if I go straight, you're going to let your husband fuck me?"

"Oh no, kitty, that makes it sound like an offer. You

are

going to be a good girl. All you get to decide is how long it takes. If you want, you can hang up there all day, while I show you what you're missing out on."

Felicia had the pleasant tingle of waiting to be spanked. She gave her ass a shake, just for Peter, and Mary Jane put her hands on Felicia's hips to hold her still. She was so close to Felicia and touching her so intimately that Felicia couldn't help but grow wet. She bit her lip, wishing she could take advantage of how aroused she was—or that someone would take advantage of her already.

"Or you can join in," Mary Jane continued. "

God,

you've got a hot cunt. How does Peter ever fuck you? It feels like it'd burn his goddamn dick."

She pinched Felicia's ass, making the cat burglar jerk her hips. Then she was running her hands down Felicia's smooth, slender thighs. Stroking her fingers up along Felicia's groin. Touching her right through her panties.

"You really think Peter is such a good lay that I'd give up my birthright?" Felicia asked.

"I married him, didn't I?" Mary Jane covered Felicia's mouth with her hand, her fingers wet from Felicia's own pussy. "Peter, why don't you do what that catsuit was clearly intended for and jerk off on it? I think seeing even a drop of your cum go to waste will change her tune. I know it'd do it for me."

Peter shook his head. "She'd still get off on the attention. Let's show her what happens to good girls instead. She's a greedy one—she won't be able to take seeing someone else play with her favorite toy."

Mary Jane turned back to Felicia. "So many fun ideas for activities. I really hope you take your time in making up your mind, kitty. Because I've thought of all kinds of ways to have you begging to be our sex slave. In fact, the only reason I agreed to this is because I know you're such a kinky bitch that you'll get off on how I torture you. Welcome to the family. Enjoy being our cum dumpster."

A. Show Felicia she'll get to have Peter's cock on demand, just like Mary Jane does.

B. Show Felicia that she's the Parker family cock-sheath already, whether she likes it or not.