In a daze, unsure what to feel, Mary Jane undid her belt. Her dress fell to the floor. She shuddered as a wave of desire ran through her. Raw sensuality at the thought, the deed of undressing before Peter, knowing the pleasures he would bring her.
She should’ve been repulsed by what he was forcing her to do, the command he had over her. But none of the emotions she tried to summon up came to her. It was all more like a feedback loop. She was aroused by his eyes on her, taking in this fresh taste of her undressed body, then horrified by her own rebellious feelings.
Tears came to her eyes. Why couldn’t anything be simple? Even being raped would at least let her keep her outrage—not chisel it away until she wasn’t sure what was still hers and what was Peter’s…
“Take the slip off!” Peter snapped, his words making her thoughts swirl faster. It was like being struck by a riding crop. This should hurt, but it didn’t. It felt more like she was breaking some naughty and senseless taboo than being compelled to do something she didn’t want.
She tugged the straps of her slip off her shoulders and let it fall. Now she was almost naked. Her breasts were exposed and her panties held onto her pussy in a way that ghosted over its roundness, making her feel Peter’s gaze like his was a physical touch through the satin.
She stepped out of her slip and there she was in her panties, her garter straps, her stockings, her heels…
Peter walked slowly around her, drinking in her loveliness. And Mary Jane had never felt more appreciated than with this illicit stare on her body. It was even better than when they’d been lovers. It was wrong now, dirty… with all the allure of stolen diamonds, all the adrenaline rush of a crime.
“Lower your panties down,” Peter told her, his voice gentler now, like he knew he didn’t have to yell to be obeyed. “Not off, just down. Nice and low.”
Her breath coming fast, Mary Jane obeyed him. Her nipples were hard. They smarted against the cold air with each movement. She slid her panties down to her thighs, first in front, then in back, until all they held was the very slit of her womanhood.
“Good girl. Now walk around some. I’ve been seeing your ass in too many clothes. I want the full effect this time.”
Mary Jane barely recognized the sound of her own breathing. She walked, feeling Peter’s eyes, his emotions filling the room. Whether he was pleased or displeased. And she cringed then, knowing Peter hadn’t gotten what he wanted…
“That’s not how you walk for me,” Peter said to her. “Come on, model. You know you turn me on. So go ahead and do it. Turn me on.”
Mary Jane forgot to breathe for a moment, then gasped in air. She walked, swaying her ass, feeling Peter’s grin at her efforts and at least that was good. Nice. Something she could enjoy in the midst of all this. She should try to enjoy this, shouldn’t she? She didn’t have a choice, she had to save Paul, but as long as it felt good…
Then Mary Jane knew what she would do. What the indomitable Mary Jane Watson, star of Secret Hospital, would do. She should not only have her fun, but she should do it on her terms. And to hell with Peter and Paul and anyone who didn’t like it. Peter wanted to play games? She could play games.
“Does my body turn you on, tiger, or is it telling me what to do?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her full breasts shifted with her movements, rolling back and forth.
Peter licked his lips.
“Because getting ordered around is turning me on, but what do you plan to do with this wet pussy? Just look at it?”
Peter looked down to the pink bareness between her thighs. His eyes strained to see more than a hint of what was under her panties. “Maybe,” he said. “It is a magnificent view. As for more—it’d be nice, but I don’t know if you’ve learned your lesson yet. A few screaming orgasms was enough to show Felicia her place, but you’re a lot more stubborn than her. Not as easy a lay.”
And still his eyes feasted on her creamy physique, her proud breasts, the dark tips that puckered with her nervousness as well as the cool air blowing from the air conditioner.
Mary Jane was oh so aware of the growing bulge in Peter’s pants. Her eyes kept returning to it. She couldn’t make them stop.
She knew how big he was, how he was capable of using all that cock—but the memory of candy was never as good as a fresh taste. And she wasn’t sure what it would be like with this new, more aggressive Peter. Not afraid to hurt her, not afraid to take what he wanted… not afraid she would leave if he was less than gentle, because he wouldn’t let her leave…
“Now Peter, our sex life was always tops,” she said, channeling her nerves into a confident performance. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m sure if you made Felicia your bitch, simply by fucking her too nice for her to end up anything else—you could certainly do the same to me.”
Peter nodded absently, moving closer, studying the hardness of her puckering areolas. He strolled around her, admiring her round ass.
Mary Jane twitched under his scrutiny. Her skin flushed hotly. Time dragged slowly.
“Beg,” he told her.
“Make me,” she told him.
He was both thinking about it and letting her think about it. Making Mary Jane wonder if she was lying or just saying true things the only way she could let them out.
Finally, he was standing in front of her again. His erection was like an elephant’s trunk running down one pantleg. Mary Jane stifled a moan to see it.