Blackout update (warning: NC)

With that curse, that pet name, ringing in her ears, Peter fucked deep and hard into Carol’s pussy. She wailed, twisting her face as far into the rooftop as she could. Peter stayed inside her a moment, unable to move. Even with the taste he’d had of her, he was shocked by her tightness, the blistering heat all around him. He almost came just sliding into her, each inch he gave her tempting him with irresistible orgasm. But he managed to resist. After all, she had asked to be fucked.

When he started to rock his prick in and out of her, Carol’s eyes rolled back in her head. It would be a mistake to think of what she felt as pleasure. She felt nothing but fullness, the absolute use and ownership of her cunt by Peter’s cock. No man had ever fucked her this way. She hadn’t even fucked herself this way. She didn’t know a cock could be so big. She didn’t know her cunt could be so wide.

Her mouth grunted with each thrust he made, venting the intensity she was receiving as it overflowed her senses. Her pride, her self-esteem, all of her strong will—it was now the small voice arguing against this rapture. No, not even arguing. Wishing her helmet was on, that her face was covered—that Peter couldn’t see how she was enjoying being his bitch.

The larger part of her came just thinking of it.

Perhaps she would be gratified to know that Peter couldn’t see it anyway. He was driving into her pussy hard, his eyes squeezed shut, the sensations of her fluttering cunt almost overwhelming him. The wet heat of her sex gripped his manhood every time he impaled her, and on every retraction, every new plunge, she held him tighter. 

Leaning over her, Peter grasped her breasts with both hands, digging his fingers into the supple flesh as hard as he could. Carol cried out in pain where he squeezed her like he was tightening vises on her body. Peter’s cock swelled inside her, stretching her cunt to the limit. With a grunt, Peter came, hard. His thick seed filled the few unoccupied nooks and crannies of her cunt, coating all the satiny walls inside her pussy. Carol felt the deep pumps of his cock as he shot his jizz into her. With no place to go, it ran out of her splayed cunt in droves. She felt it streaking down her thighs and slopping to the ground, every drop of it more evidence of how she’d been despoiled. Softly, Carol sobbed.

She couldn’t believe it was over.

Peter wasn’t through, though. He didn’t know how long it would be before Mary Jane or Gwen woke up, but then, he didn’t give a shit if they opened their eyes right now and saw what he was doing with Carol. Neither of them had any right to complain after how they’d gotten off.

He tore away Carol’s webbed bonds, but she barely had time to do more than blink in confusion before he pulled her arms behind her back and webbed them in place. Next, he webbed her elbows together. They weren’t quite touching, but still, Carol had no leverage to break free. And he enjoyed the way her new posture made her breasts thrust out as if for his inspection. He considered fully undressing her, but no, she looked more interesting with her shredded costume still clinging to her body. 

There was a kind of dignity that came with being naked, an innate beauty to the human body, and being half-dressed the way she was robbed Carol of that. To Peter’s photographer eyes, it made it clear that there was nothing artistic about her nakedness. She had been ripped out of her clothes not because she was a beautiful woman, but because she was a cock-slut, and there was nothing beautiful or even womanly about that. Just a hole that he liked the feel of.

Peter pulled her to her feet. Carol studiously averted her gaze from him, but he didn’t care. She’d feel him far more than she could ever see him. But that would come later. For now, Peter Indian-sat before Carol, fetching his camera with a webline to take pictures of her cunt. His cum was still seeping out of her, joining the vast quantities running along her thighs. He smiled to himself as he took picture after picture, showing the white rivers going down all the way to her bare feet, all the way between her toes.

Carol’s distaste pulsed inside her as Peter’s cock had done when he’d hilted her. She’d never forget it, and now her embarrassment seemed to be following the trails he’d blazed inside her, resonating with her stretched and battered folds more with every picture he took. She looked around. She was on a roof, and if she made a run for it, she could make it off the side. Carol didn’t think she could fly in her present condition, but with her invulnerability, she would almost certainly survive the fall.

But then what? She’d fall off the building, crater in the sidewalk, and even if she didn’t hit anyone or anything, everyone would still see her—webbed up—spread open—cum drenching her lower body. Instead of Peter’s camera capturing her degradation, it would be every cell phone on the street. Even the prospect of such shame froze Carol, making it impossible for her to move even as Peter circled her, now taking picturesque photos of her untouched ass, while the cum from her violated pussy spilled down the thighs below. 

His cock was swelling once more. He cupped one of Carol’s buttocks, feeling its firmness, then squeezing the sweet flesh. After taking a picture, he put down the camera and felt Carol’s ass with both hands, finding it a treat to touch. He pulled her buttocks apart with his thumbs wedged between them.

“God, Peter,” Carol moaned shamefully. “That’s… that’s dirty…”

“Not yet,” Peter said, looking between her buttocks, seeing her tight little anus. It was a sweet pink, puckered inward as if trying to hide from his sight.

Carol noted distantly that she was unable to even voice much of a protest, only to note what was happening. What had happened, had happened. She was Peter’s bitch. Her only concerns now were to please him enough that he would allow her to regain her dignity at some point. If those photos never saw the light of day, then she could pretend this had never happened. She could be a role model to women, inspiring little girls, letting them know they could do anything they wanted so long as a Kree Psyche-Magnitron exploded in their face…

“You have one pretty asshole,” Peter said, rubbing his thumb around it. “Nice and tight and… it honestly looks virginal. Like a flower waiting to bloom. Or a condom that hasn’t been used, I guess.”

Carol’s hips jabbed forward as Peter’s thumb dipped into her opening, but with his other hand settling on her hip, tightly gripping her there, she could only delay the inevitable. Her face flamed with a kind of awareness, a reliving of how his cock had invaded her pussy, a keen knowledge of the cum that still soaked her pussy. 

No one had ever touched her asshole before, not even her, except when she was bathing. Standing there, head hung, tears in her eyes, body already used once for the depraved sex that he had somehow infected her into enjoying—Carol let his thumb push into her. And she still couldn’t keep from yelping when it actually entered her ass. Her body was clenched against his penetration, showing more sense than her mind perhaps, but Peter pushed harder and harder until all the tightness in the world couldn’t keep him out.

“You don’t have to… don’t… please…” Carol cried raggedly. “That’s so wrong!”

“Is it?” Peter teased, kissing her pert buttocks. “I haven’t put my cock in yet, but it certainly doesn’t feel wrong on my thumb. In fact, it feels like it would be a good fit. And if it’s not, I can always make it fit.” 

His jaw yawning open, he mouthed the buoyant flesh of her ass before driving his teeth together, leaving a bite mark where Carol was rarely even touched. Hell, she’d used to come out swinging at people for even looking at her there… or saying there wasn’t anything to look at… now there certainly was. She didn’t think she could blame anyone for looking at her now. You looked at whores, right? They advertised their wares. That was how they made a living…

Carol’s asshole held his thumb with an almost fond tightness. It hadn’t been able to keep him out, but now it sucked at his thumb as if tempting him to indulge it with something else. Carol felt jarring pain, jarring stretching, but it was the pleasure she felt as Peter worked his thumb inward that made her cry helplessly. And moan.

Peter watched Carol’s asshole open up for his flexing thumb. He’d been wondering if he could get his cock in her ass, but now he didn’t think he cared. Like he’d said, he’d make it fit. He pulled his thumb out, grinning ironically as her asshole quickly closed. He doubted it’d be able to keep up that kind of squeezing tension later on.

“You’ve still got cum coming out of your pussy,” Peter said, coming up to his feet. “I thought you didn’t like getting dirty. Oh, well, maybe it’ll help later on. People can get used to anything, you know. I know I can get used to having your asshole wrapped around my cock.”

“Is that what you’re going to do to me?” Carol asked, low and fearful.

“What do you think?” Peter teased. He shoved Carol, pushing her over a trail of air conditioning ductwork that made a low table for her to be bent over. Pressing her breasts flat against the cold metal, Peter webbed her knees far apart, then webbed her face to the duct too, careful to cover her mouth. He didn’t mind if she screamed, but she might wake Mary Jane or Gwen, and both of them deserved their sleep.

Carol’s head hung over the other side of the duct, her blonde hair hanging to the gravel below. Peter stood behind her, grinning, watching Carol shake with goosebumps running all up and down her exposed ass. He wondered how much of it was worry over what was to come and how much was disappointment that he’d taken his thumb out of her ass in the first place.

“You’re lucky, Carol,” he said. “Even if you can’t get my dick hard, Gwen and Mary Jane are there to take care of that. And looks aren’t everything. Turns out you’re a good fuck, bitch. Did you know that? So I guess I’d better thank you for how much you got me off with that tight little cunt of yours.”

Peter got down on his knees and rubbed his cock against Carol’s ass as he spoke, tattooing lines of old cum along the soft flesh. Carol could feel his still-warm cum all over her buttocks, a shocking sensation after the chill of being exposed. She shivered, her ass shaking, and he summoned up another toothy grin.

“See? I knew you wanted my cock.” Peter pushed it into the valley of her ass, dragging it up and down between her buttocks. “Look at you shaking your ass. You’re almost making it look good. But it’ll look a lot better with my cum dripping out of it.”

He dropped his cockhead low, slapping it up between her legs, at the lips of her still-tender sex. Carol’s cheeks burned as she felt her cunt reignite, the stuffy feeling of being filled with cum now tangling with the sense-memories of his friction fucking away inside her. Why couldn’t he just fuck her ass and get it over with? Why did he have to make her want it too? She could endure being raped much more than she could enjoy being fucked.