Under New Management: Make her keep wearing it. (Patreon)

“What do you mean she’s not home?” Peter asked, firing off another webline to carry him through the air. He was making good time, his flow in perfect form, the air currents pushing him forward and stabilizing his momentum, but he couldn’t enjoy it with what Mary Jane was telling him over the phone.

“I mean she took off. I looked everywhere. She’s gone.”

“Did she get the collar off?”

“Well, I don’t see it anywhere. If she took it off, then I guess she hid it or took it with her.”

Peter dropped down onto a roof, running across it while rolling up his glove to check his wrist computer. It showed that the collar hadn’t been tampered with. He tugged his glove back into place as he jumped off the ledge and twirled through the air until he was in position to lance out with a webline and make another swing off what it had snagged.

“What if she threw it out?” Peter tried.

“I don’t see it in the trash bin.”

“How full is the trash bin?” Peter asked.

“Pete, I am not digging through the trash to see if she dumped her collar in there. She’s a cat. She pulls this stuff. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Peter sighed. “I thought we were getting through to her, though. I really thought this was what she wanted.”

Mary Jane heaved her own sigh. “Like I said, she’s a cat. Clearly she enjoys this thing; she’ll still scratch us for touching her belly.”

Peter thought about that. “I’ll be home in a minute,” he said absent-mindedly. “Quick shower, then I’ll go looking for her.”

“I don’t get to enjoy having you all to myself?” MJ crooned.

Hearing Mary Jane say that, in that tone of voice, stirred Peter up inside. “You’re not worried about her?” he asked, though he wasn’t able to keep the heat out of his voice.

“Maybe a little,” MJ admitted. “But I’ve been known to be a little catty myself. If she wants us to show how much we miss her, maybe instead we don’t even notice she’s gone.”

“You’ve got a sick mind,” Peter said admiringly.

“Have to be, to keep your attention,” Mary Jane said. “You’re always rushing off to get at one villain or another. If I weren’t a little villainous myself, I’d never see you.”

***

At the apartment, Peter took his mask off. Mary Jane was there, to kiss him and hug him, welcoming him back into her life for as long as she had him.

“Clean costume’ll be ready in five,” she told him.

Peter showered and put on fresh clothes. He considered that maybe he should do something with MJ before he was back in his Avenging togs. Grab a quick bite to eat, maybe a cup of coffee…

Felicia was a big girl. She could take care of herself. And if she wanted to gallivant around, he wasn’t going to deny Mary Jane the affection she was due as his wife to focus on the Black Cat—much as she might like him to.

He finished combing his hair as Mary Jane brought him his spare spider-suit and when she opened the bathroom door, the air pressure blew in a hundred dollar bill from outside.

Together, they leaned out into the hallway. From the open window, a trail of loosely stirring dollars ran to the bedroom.

Peter leapt to the window and shut it. Outside, another hundred bobbed in the breeze before disappearing from view. It was practically Felicia’s calling card.

He turned around, stalked to the bedroom—Mary Jane actually scrambled out of his way—and when he opened the door, Felicia laid on the bed. Still naked. Still collared.

Dollar bills overflowing on the bed and her nude body and all across the floor, getting caught in the stream from the air conditioning and flying around Peter’s feet as he stepped inside… behind him, Mary Jane remembered to shut the door so that they didn’t have Benjamins scattered all over the apartment.

“I didn’t take the collar off,” Felicia said puckishly. “You said I couldn’t, remember? But you didn’t say anything about going for a walk, so I did. Paid a visit to Hammerhead. He’d robbed a bank—you don’t think it’s fair that he gets to be rich when he does a naughty thing like that, do you Spider?”

“You went out at night wearing nothing but a collar?” Peter asked her.

“The thought of all the fun we’ve had this week kept me warm.” Felicia purred and arched her back, her decadently fleshed tits coming up into the air, sensuous in every little jiggle that went through them. The dollars on the bedspread flurried around with her motion too, as if worshiping her, and it couldn’t be said she didn’t deserve it.

“I suppose getting arrested for indecent exposure is the least of your worries,” Mary Jane commented, wryly amused.

“Yeah, I’d say I’m a damn sight better than ‘decent,’ much less indecent,” Felicia cooed. “It was exciting, really. Getting away with something so…” She shuddered. Dollar bills slipped from the mattress and crisply littered the floor. “Mmmm… I almost touched myself while I was cracking his safe, but I do take my work seriously. Can’t get caught, you know. Can’t let someone who’s not my Spider see the goods.” Felicia lavished a smile on Mary Jane. “Unless it’s my Spider’s bitch.”

“You’re his bitch. I’m his wife.”

“That’s not much of a difference. About as much of a difference as there is between Peter Parker and Spider-Man.”

Felicia rolled over, gasping slightly as her sex came down on a heap of bills. Her head rolled as she shifted her hips, rubbing herself into extended contact with the thousands in currency.

“One’s the truth, the other’s just a polite euphemism. That’s why you’re not going to tame me, Spider. This is my truth. All the rest is just… lube. So it doesn’t burn as much when I get what I want. But at the end of the day, I don’t care about the pain. I’ll hurt as much as I hurt, so long as I come.”

She rolled over onto her back again. Bills stuck to the shimmering sweat on her lush body. She petted herself, her hands brushing some of the bills away, and cooed with pleasure—her body had to just be burning to the touch.

Felicia reached under the pillow and took out two bricks of cash. She held them playfully over her breasts as she sat up. “I thought I’d better pay rent so long as I’m sleeping over. Mary Jane, here’s ten thousand dollars.” She flicked the edges of the bundled dollars across her nipple. “If you eat my pussy. And Peter.” She slapped the other bundle against the rippling flesh of her other tit. “Ten thousand again. If you let me suck your cock.”

“And if we do both?” Mary Jane asked.

Felicia’s eyebrows nestled together. “I’ll come,” she said simply.

“And what if I punish you?” Peter asked, stepping forward, pissed off anew with every hundred that crinkled under his feet.

“Then I’ll definitely come,” Felicia replied.