Symbiote Blues update

Gwen still didn’t know what to think of Peter. She never wanted to see him again. She wondered why he hadn’t called her. She hated how filthy he’d made her feel, but thinking about it was the only thing that made her come anymore—and she needed to come, she masturbated five times a day.

She was so absorbed with her thoughts that she didn’t hear the rustling in the bushes, just as she was entering her apartment building. There was a rush, then there was a dark bag over her head and strong arms pushing her inside. 

Gwen started to scream, but one of those strong arms came around her throat, choking off her breath. She squirmed and struggled, but the man’s body was like granite, completely immovable and impervious. Then it was too late. Her head pounded and her vision was filled with violet flashes—she was blacking out.

Gwen woke up to a gasp.

She was on her back on one of those kitchen tables that could fold down its ends when they were not in used. With them down, it was about the size of a barrel, and she was tied to it, her arms and legs bent backwards down the wings of the table and tied together at the wrists and ankles. She’d been stripped of clothing, with her ungainly position holding her thighs open, like she was offering her cunt to whoever sat at the head of the table. It was a disgusting, degrading position to find herself in, and as soon as Gwen realized it was Peter who had done this to her, her body flushed with heat.

She thought again of how he had made her suck his cock. She seemed now able to remember its size, its heft, its taste with perfect recall… like she was smelling the delicious aroma of a favorite food, freshly being served.

Belatedly, she recalled there was more to her predicament than just how she was stripped and tied. She’d taken that in so quickly that she’d forgotten the noise that had awoken her.

Peter was sitting on the floor beside her, stroking one of her long legs with a possessive tenderness. And a woman who looked very much like that Black Cat criminal was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide as she stared at Gwen and her captor.

Gwen cried out in shock—it was one thing to be Peter’s… whatever she was, but for someone else to know of her shameful enjoyment… She tried to bury her face down in her shoulder. She could not conceal her bound, naked body, but she didn’t want her features to be seen. She blushed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

“Gwen, dear, I think we’re being robbed,” Peter said distantly. “How about it, Felicia? See anything you’d like to grab?”

He said it so easily, so casually, that Gwen took her eyes off Felicia to peek at him. He looked as if he were pleased to be caught in the act. And Felicia had fire in her eyes, passion, her gaze smoldering as she shifted her it from Gwen to Peter. They landed, Gwen noticed, first on Peter’s cock, then on her own exposed sex.

Understanding came from Felicia’s eyes, from the way she stood there, quivering, lips moistly parting.

“No,” Gwen whimpered. “Felicia, whoever you are, make him untie me! Don’t look at me like that!”

Felicia slowly closed the door she had come through, leaning against it, not saying anything. She looked at Peter’s member. She looked at Gwen’s cunt. Her eyes were warm, wild.

“Kitty wouldn’t do that,” Peter said, chuckling to himself. “She’s a very good kitty. Does what I say, not the other way around.”

“Jesus Christ!” Gwen whimpered, feeling her cheeks burning now in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment. Was Felicia like her? Was she like Felicia?

Peter moved his hand to Gwen’s sex, rubbing it, parting the soft labia lips. Moving his other hand between her legs, he reached his finger into her opened folds. Gwen cried out in shock, her ass twisting so quickly she herself couldn’t tell if she was trying to get away from his finger or get it in deeper.

“Not with her watching!” Gwen sobbed. “Please, you can’t let her watch—do what you want with me, but I don’t want anyone to see!”

“Why not?” Peter asked unashamedly. “You’d like watching if I were fucking her, wouldn’t you?”

“No!” Gwen cried, even as the thought threw fuel on her fire. Had he really… a girl like that…?

“Well, we’ll see soon enough,” Peter told her. “When your turn is done.” 

Felicia still leaned against the door, as if she were holding something out. Her eyes gleamed on Gwen’s body, on Peter’s fingers working at her. She saw the blonde’s obscenely displayed sex becoming wetly, its juices glistening on Peter’s hands, and smiled as she realized how Gwen was enjoying Peter’s usage of her.

Smiling back at her, Peter said “Take your tits out, kitty. Show Gwen what nice breasts you have.”

Her eyes glazed in passion, Felicia unzipped her catsuit the little amount her zipper hadn’t already been lowered, then spread it open. She was naked underneath, and her full breasts heaved mightily without confinement, practically pushing their swollen nipples into Gwen’s attention.

“Those look good, don’t they?” Peter asked. “How would you like to suck on them a little, Gwen?”

Gwen could feel herself turning red, her embarrassment and arousal combining to bathe her skin in flame. “No… Peter, I’m not that way!”

“What way?” Peter asked leadingly.

“You know…”

Peter pulled his fingers from Gwen’s sex and ran his fingernails over the soft flesh of her labia, Gwen gaping as she felt their sharpness run over her impossibly tender folds. It didn’t hurt, but it was so intense that it might as well have.

“I don’t like girls!” Gwen cried out.

“Why? Just because you like my fingers so much? Trust me, Felicia will know how to touch you too. You can be a slut for both of us.” 

Peter stood up, his cock rigid. He looked at Felicia, slowly stroking his manhood to the sight of her. Felicia preened as she felt his eyes on her—practically simpering.

“Lose the costume. Take everything off but your boots.” He looked at Gwen with a fond smile. “I might let Gwen clean them.”

Gwen could no longer be surprised at the way Felicia obeyed him without question. She watched Felicia undress and could only think of how much pleasure Peter had given to her, that such a beautiful woman would follow his commands without thought.

The white hair of Felicia’s mound held Gwen’s vision. Her own sex was starting to throb, as it had when Peter had forced himself into her mouth. Peter, still moving his fist back and forth on his prick, watched Felicia and his eyes were sharp with a majestic cruelty.

Finally, Felicia stood, naked except for her knee-high boots trimmed in white fur. Her hands hung at her waist, head and shoulders back. She was waiting for Peter to tell her what to do next. Gwen knew Felicia would not refuse, no matter what Peter said.