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Mary Jane's Tangled Web Vol. II	By : superbang Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Spiderman Views: 21220 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Spiderman, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
Warning:

This story is for adults only! The story has strong sexual and violent content as well as offensive language. If this is something that you feel uncomfortable with or if not old enough according to the law, the author would suggest that you read no further.

Disclaimer:

All of the characters in this story are the property of Marvel Comics. The author makes no claim of ownership on these characters. It is a parody. Written for entertainment and not profit. If you wish to make money off of Marvel, buy stock. I did.

Feedback is always welcome at superbangjason@yahoo.com

For more quality fanfic go to http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NaughtyMarvelFiction/

Mary Jane�s Tangled Web Vol. II

Chapter 6

Mary Jane gave herself a quick look in the mirror. Her hair and makeup were presentable. Not the best she�d ever done, but it was a rush job for a night on the town, not a photo shoot. Her eyes dropped from her face to the black bustier that hiked up her bust. The black thong fit perfect, as did the fishnet stockings and stiletto heels. She looked sexy in black.
The bustier didn�t exactly fit, but it�s not like she purchased it herself. She might wonder where Norman Osborn had gotten it from, but it was probably best not to ask. Especially since the fucking thing was making it hard to breathe anyway. Mary Jane tore it off and threw it in the corner.
She looked at the mirror again. Black stilettos forced her to stand upright and straight. Black spider webbing crisscrossed up her shapely legs. The black thong covered her sex and accentuated her ass. Her unrestricted breasts rose and fell with her gentle breathing. Her hair and makeup hadn�t changed. Now she didn�t just look sexy, she felt sexy.
Mary Jane kissed her mirror image. She opened the closet and got out her little black dress. It was formfitting, hugging her hips and chest. The material was thin and felt nice against her skin. She draped it over a chair and took it off the hanger.
When she looked back towards the mirror, she saw Norman Osborn�s reflection staring back at her. He spoke in a cultured tone to match the tuxedo he wore. "Are you ready, Mrs. Parker?"

Mary Jane tossed the little black dress aside. She made no attempt to hide her naked chest. "I�m always ready, Mr. Osborn."
He snickered, a sinister sound full of mania and intent. "I meant for our outing to the gallery."
MJ bent over at the waist and picked her dress up off the floor. The pose was calculated, one to remind him of how sexually available she was. Quietly she slipped the dress over her head and pulled it down. The straps held it around her shoulders as she pulled the dress into place, stopping several inches above her knee.
"I�m ready whenever you are, Norman."
Norman watched her saunter across the room. Her breasts shifted with each step. The dress highlighted the curves of her hips and form of her legs. She was sex personified. And she was his.
"Come along Mary Jane," Norman spoke as he held the door open for her. "Let�s go paint the town red."
She smiled at him while she passed. Norman smiled back. Like misery, madness loves company.

* * * * *
The Black Cat leapt the gap between the buildings. She hit the gravel on the rooftop and rolled into a hunched over sprint. Her arms and legs pumped with all the strength she could muster. Her lungs were on fire. Her heart thumped in her chest. Felicia Hardy was desperate, running for her life.
Behind her shrieked three macabre figures riding rocket gliders. In the lead was one she recognized; a man wrapped in the orange tatters of cloak and clothing. Under the hood was the pallid mask and red eyes� the twisted visage of the Hobgoblin. Behind him were two she was unfamiliar with. Each wore tattered outfits like the cloth portions of the Hobgoblin�s outfit, but not the bodysuits underneath. The one on the left was blonde; her cloak was a deep blue. The one on the right had brown hair, her black tatters rippled in the wind.
All of them were similarly armed however. Pumpkin bombs and razor bats came from the shoulder bags, electric blasts from the gloves. The sparks and explosions spurred the Black Cat into continuing her desperate escape. Spying a rooftop access door, Felicia ducked behind an air conditioning unit.
The villains overshot her, but quickly turned around nearly crashing into each other.
"Here kitty-kitty-kitty�" the blue clad woman called.
"I�ve never heard that one before." Felicia cursed as she darted toward the door. The world shook. Gravel and smoke exploded in her face as the Black Cat crumpled to the ground.
"Bad pussy," the woman in black mocked as her glider surfed by, "I think you need housebreaking."
Felicia clawed her way to her feet. "Unoriginal cunts�" she muttered from the corner of her bloodstained mouth.
The Hobgoblin hopped off his glider and landed right in front of her. "Sorry about this Cat," he said as he dropped her to her knees with a punch in the gut. "But the boss says you�re coming in."
"Dammit Flash," Felicia spat as she tried to suck in air, "You�re not even disguising your voice. Secret identities are supposed to be kept secret." Felicia smiled and wiped a trickle of blood away. "You�re not even trying, stud."
The Hobgoblin pointed a gloved finger at her, the tip crackled with electricity. "I don�t have to try to take you down."
Felicia�s face lit up as a realization came to her. "These goofballs are absolute amateurs," Felica smirked cockily. "That�s Liz Osborn on a goblin glider. She�s a single mother for pity�s sake. That Betty what�s-her-name, a secretary from the Bugle. Flash is a natural athlete, but he�s no supervillain. I can take these guys easy."

Felica looked to her right and left as she rose to her feet.
"Don�t try it!" Flash warned through the yellow mask, "I�ll blast you!"
Felicia suppressed the urge to laugh. Flash thought she was looking for a place to hide. Instead she was keeping track of his cohorts. Out of pure inexperience, they positioned themselves perfectly.
Felicia knocked his arm aside, the electric blast ricocheted off the surface of an air conditioning unit and into Betty�s goblin-glider. Betty jumped back in shock, dislodging herself from the rocket platform. It spiraled wildly without a controller. Felicia slammed her elbow into the side of Flash�s head, his arms pinwheel as the out of control glider swept both his legs from behind. Felicia let out a triumphant giggle.
The blue clad rider was all business, reaching into her shoulder bag. The Cat twisted and crouched, batting Liz�s pumpkin bomb aside with thoughtless ease. Betty fell victim to the concussion blast as Felicia feigned left and rolled right, firing the grapple line hidden in the wrist-fur of her costume. The cat�s claw snagged the fleeing Liz, yanking her off the glider to crash hard on the rooftop.
Felicia chuckled as her assailants moaned in pain. She�d done it. Granted they weren�t the most fearsome of opponents but hey, she normally preferred running to fighting.
"Shit. I lost my surveillance bag." Felicia commented as she came to her senses. This sort of job was not really her thing, but a favor was a favor. And favors shouldn�t cost a couple thousand in equipment. She shrugged, "That�s what I get for playing hero."

"Well, what would Spider do?" She thought to herself.
The Black Cat tied up her assailants with her grapple line, making sure that all the goblin equipment was far out of reach. They were amateurs, but even amateurs could be dangerous. Betty was even dumb enough to bring her purse into combat. While that was a move of colossal stupidity, it did have more practical uses than pumpkin bombs and razor bats.
Felicia pulled a five-dollar bill out of Betty�s wallet. "Okay, I�m going to go grab a latte, you guys work on consciousness." Her fading chuckle could be heard as she leapt over the side of the building

* * * * *

The dark haired woman in the red dress stepped out of the cab. She gathered her things, the little purse and silk stole, and walked up to the Gallery door.
Jessica Drew was used to danger. She was used to being undercover. But this was different. She wasn�t in tights and she wasn�t hiding behind a fake identity. It was actually Jessica Drew standing in front of the art gallery�s door, not Spider-Woman or a SHIELD agent.
The door was opened for her. A man in a red coat held his had out. "Invitation?"
"Invitation?" she responded confused. "I�m here to meet Mr. Brock."
The man in the red coat was easily brushed aside. He was there, waiting for her. His broad-shouldered frame was covered by a black sweater and slacks, on top of his head was a black beret.
"Welcome Ms. Drew," Eddie Brock spoke through his comically large smile. "I�m so glad you accepted my offer."
Jessica looked him over, trying not to laugh. The black beret tilted to the side, the skintight black sweater and pants, all he needed was a cigarette holder and he could have been part of Andy Warhol�s troupe.
"That is certainly a different look for you." Jessica commented.
"One must look the part," Eddie said with a flair of his hand, "Perhaps now we can have that drink?"
Jessica marveled at his bon vivant attitude. "Which drink was that?"
Eddie stepped to the side and held the door open for her. "Why, the next one of course!"
Jessica stepped past him and into a curtained-off antechamber, next to the coatroom. She was nervous, which was good. Due to her unusual body chemistry, when Jessica Drew got nervous her body produced a powerful pheromone, one that made men attracted to her. While crazy, possibly psychotic, Eddie Brock was still a man and that gave her an advantage.
"Your phone madam?" another man in a red jacket asked with his hand outstretched expectedly.
Jessica looked at him confused. "Excuse me?"
"By request of the artist and gallery all cell phones, digital cameras, and recording devices are strictly prohibited." The man bowed, almost apologetically. "This is a special engagement and not open to the public."
Eddie politely tapped her on the shoulder. "Nothing personal Ms. Drew, just a precaution. We wouldn�t want images on the Internet before our big unveiling next week."
"Next week?" Jessica questioned. "I thought tonight was the big unveiling."
Eddie scratched his chin in the manner that an artsy snob would scratch his chin. "This little party is for the critics. Media buzz doesn�t just happen Ms. Drew, it is made."
Begrudgingly, Jessica relinquished her handbag to the man in the red jacket. He handed her a tag with the number "19" on it. Jessica unconsciously stroked the pendant that hung around her neck, making sure that it was still there. To most observers it was a simple locket with a spider motif. Only herself, and most likely Brock, knew that it was one of Spider-Man�s tracking devices. Almost to her surprise, Eddie didn�t push to have it removed. "So either Venom didn�t notice I was wearing one or he doesn�t care." She thought to herself.

The curtain was held open for her and Jessica stepped through. She was stunned speechless by what she saw on the other side. Naked pictures, and lots of them.
There were ten to twenty people milling about in the sizable gallery, which was really nothing more than a large open space with some moveable partitions and track lighting. Most wore black. Most had pens and paper in their hands. But each person was staring at the collection of racy black and white photographs that hung from the walls and ceiling.
Jessica cautiously stepped forward, unsure of what she�d gotten herself into. She couldn�t take her eyes off the prints, as she looked away from one another caught her eye. The subjects were beautiful women in various stages of undress-
No, strike that thought. It was one woman, the same subject over and over. It was the way that the photographer focussed on one part of her body at a time that made it seem like many different women instead of just one. Breasts, ass, legs, each part of her got its turn in the spotlight. Most of the images contained no nudity at all. Well placed hands, hair, and the position of her body concealed much from the photographer. One that particularly struck her was framed so that the bottom of the breast to the absolute top of her sex was visible, leaving her naked without actually showing anything. If the subject hadn�t of worn a particular shade of nail polish, Jessica never would have known it was only one woman.
Some photos were cloudy. Some were in sharp focus. The contrast of black and white� the ways that light and shadow played off her skin� Jessica felt something stirring inside her.
Should she be offended? Was it pornography? Had the artist exploited some poor woman into dirty photographs? Questions popped in and out of her head as Jessica slowly strolled through the gallery. As she worked her way to the back she noticed the photos got more brazenly erotic. Now she wasn�t just naked, she was moving, hair flying in mid-motion. Along one wall was a series of images in sequence of her shedding her clothing. Her perfect body with sweat running down her skin. Her body straining in what looked like the throws of ecstasy�
The Jessica saw it, the centerpiece. It was at the back of the exhibition, with its back turned to the entrance. It hung from the ceiling, suspended by chains because the print was far too large to be placed on any of the walls. It was the same subject caught in mid action. She was leaping, high over what looked to be a living room. She was easily clearing two meters, but whatever she�d jumped off of wasn�t in frame. Her arms and legs were outstretched. Her hair flew behind her. Every bit of muscle and sinew flexed with power. She soared in space, deifying gravity and shame simultaneously. It was pure art, expression through an image. Somehow it made Jessica feel proud to be a woman, sexy and strong.
"But who is it?" the man next to her whispered, breaking Jessica out of her trance. She blinked twice before she realized the man wasn�t talking to her, just speaking out loud.
"Who is it indeed?" A familiar, female voice said.
Jessica turned to find Mary Jane Watson-Parker standing behind her. MJ wasn�t looking at her. Instead her focus was on the gallery of pictures. Her tight black dress did not conceal the fact that she wasn�t wearing a bra. Her straight red hair was pulled back into a painful looking ponytail. She seemed on the verge of tears, but Jessica doubted it was from pain.
"Hello MJ," Jessica started meekly, remembering the cold exchange they�d had earlier that day. "What are you doing here?"
Mary Jane gave her a look of disgust, "Sightseeing." A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne and Mary Jane snatched a flute away without breaking her stare.
Jessica backpedaled, "I didn�t mean to offend you. It just doesn�t seem like this is your scene."
"Oh, it�s my scene." MJ popped a green pill in her mouth and washed it down with half her champagne. "You have absolutely no idea, Jessie."
"Jessie"? Mary Jane had never called her "Jessie" before, especially not with that anger simmering inside her. "Listen, Peter�s a great guy but he�s not my type. Besides, I�d never violate the sanctity of your marriage."
Mary Jane laughed drunkenly. "Sanctity of marriage? Oh please, Jessie� you sound like Jarvis."
"I�m serious," Jessica spoke in a firm and convincing tone. "I would never sleep with Peter."
"You should," MJ said as she downed the rest of her champagne. Mary Jane reached out and placed a friendly hand on Jess� shoulder. "He�s got a nice cock. It�s not the biggest I�ve ever had, but he really knows how to use it."
Jessica stared at her in stunned silence. Mary Jane took the full champagne glass from Jessica�s hand and replaced it with her empty one. MJ sipped and stared at Jessica, a merry mischief in her eyes.
"Okay�" Jessica tried to reason out what was going on. "I think you�re a little tipsy, MJ."
"I won�t deny it," MJ shrugged. "Just like you can�t deny that you have a fantastic body." She crossed her hands behind Jessica�s neck, preventing her from backing away. "Green eyes� straight black hair� nice tits� great ass�" MJ�s eyes went to each part as she named it. Her look was sly but her voice was slurred. "Why don�t we find a quiet place? I bet I could make you come five times before midnight."
Gently Jess pushed her hands away. "Thanks for the offer but I don�t swing that way."
"Sounds like denial to me." MJ frowned as she backed away, crossing her arms over her chest. Jessica couldn�t help but notice Mary Jane�s hard nipples poking though the fabric of her dress. "Your loss Jessie. Just promise me you�ll fuck Peter after I�m gone."
"Gone?" Jessica stepped forward, concerned. "You don�t sound like yourself, MJ. I think we should find you some help."
"Help?" Mary Jane shook her head. "I�m a whore Jessica. I�m the dirtiest whore you could ever image. I don�t have a shred of remorse. I�m beyond help now-"

"Don�t talk like that. It�s never too late." Jessica Drew was no stranger to the dark places ones soul could go. She knew what it was like to be used. She�d been an assassin, a killer, and a pawn of powerful men. She could hear that resonate in Mary Jane�s voice "You�d be surprised how much you can feel better by simply talking about it."
MJ stepped back, a confused look on her face. Jessica stepped forward. Someone stepped in-between them. All Jessica could see was a green tie on a white shirt. "Can I help you?"
Jessica looked up. She�d seen this man before. On the cover of Fortune, the Daily Bugle, and Psychology Today all in one week. Norman Osborn blocked her path.
Jessica memorized the exits, shifted her weight to her back leg, and clenched her fists. "What are you doing here Osborn?"
He smiled evilly.
"Answer the lady�s question." Eddie Brock said as he approached from the side.
They stared at each other, man to man, killer to killer. Jessica was forgotten. This was a contest, primal and pure, a challenge as old as life. Two alpha males ready to tear each other apart while the female watched. The tension was thick enough to taste.
Eddie�s look was impassive, his face might as well been set in stone. Norman grinned back at him with his smile and ever calculating eyes.
"So," Eddie broke the silence, "What are you doing here, Osborn?"
"Accompanying a lady-friend." Norman kept his answer short and his voice low. "One that�s familiar with this photographer."
"Obviously." Eddie stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He was taller and broader than Norman, but the smaller man was not backing down. As Eddie spoke his voice began to change to the echoing double voice of Venom. "If you think for a moment that we will let you interfere in our revenge, then we have a problem."
"You�re revenge?" Norman�s voice pitched upwards as he spoke, his eyes flashed green. "I own him! He�s mine. His body his soul his life and his wife. Don�t let that notion bounce around in your empty skull. Peter is my bitch and I�m putting him down." He was crazed. His eyes changed color from their natural brown to green. A mania burned inside them.
"Maybe," Eddie�s features darkened. "Maybe we should step outside?"
There was the telltale call for attention by the sound of a fork tapping the side of a glass. "Attention everyone. Can I have your attention please?" Mary Jane stood at the center of the gallery, rapping and tapping till every head turned.
"I have an announcement to make." MJ spoke a little softer as the tight circle of thirty or so reporters and critics closed in. "My name is Mary Jane Watson-Parker and I appear naked in every picture on display here."

* * * * *

"Winning feels good." Felicia thought to herself as she plugged Peter�s number into Betty Leeds� cell phone. For a sensual creature like the Black Cat, feeling good was its own reward.
She sipped her latte and waited for Peter to pick up. Unfortunately it went to voice mail. "Hey stud!" she purred into the phone, "I got Flash Thompson, Betty Leeds, and Liz Osborn tied up on a roof in lower Manhattan. They attacked me using Norman Osborn�s hand-me-down equipment. Speaking of which, Norman Osborn has your wife at the Expression Gallery on Canal Street. I�ll meet you there once the boys in blue get here to arrest the Insane Goblin Posse. Call me back on this number." Felicia considered it a character flaw, but she knew Peter well enough to know how he�d react. "Spider, be careful. Call me before you go charging in. I know how crazy you get when MJ�s involved and so does Osborn. Call me."
Felicia hung up the phone solemnly. She looked out over the twinkling lights of New York at night. The city was so huge, so many millions of people. Why did it have to drag the same ten or twenty through the most unbelievable shit it could muster? Why did Peter Parker always end up at the center of the storm?
Felicia was about to return the phone to her ear when the flesh of her back screamed. Something huge had punctured deeply. She couldn�t breathe. The phone and coffee clattered on the rooftop. Felicia flailed in desperate agony, trying to rip the weapon out of the unreachable spot in the small of her back. The only thing she found was slippery blood on her vinyl costume.
Flash Thompson, still in the tattered orange garments of the Hobgoblin picked up his bag of tricks. "Damn Felicia, you�re still the cockiest cunt I�ve ever met." Flash returned the pallid mask to cover his face. Betty and Liz came to flank him on either side.
The first blow was the worst. At one point she found herself falling in love with Flash. That was the reason she broke it off. She couldn�t afford to care. The lifestyle of the cat-burglar/bounty hunter/superhero was simply too dangerous for loved ones. All it would do is cause pain, much like the pain she was in now. All the Black Cat could do was cover her head with her arms as the punches and kicks rained down on her.
Her body went numb. She remembered thinking "If this was death then dying wasn�t so bad�"

* * * * *
"Mrs. Watson-Parker," a confused reporter stammered, "You�ve never appeared nude in any media before-"
"What?" MJ laughed drunkenly, "Real life doesn�t count? Because, I�m naked a lot."
Some of the people nervously chuckled. The rest politely listened. "Mrs. Watson-Parker," the same reported tried again, "what caused you to do this sort of photography? Are you doing it for the sake of art?"
"Is this what we�re going to do?" Mary Jane seemed a little annoyed, "Are you just going to ask the same question different ways until I give you the answer you want?"
The reporter was visibly hurt.
MJ laughed at him. "Oh please, reporters are such vultures. You�re lucky I�m even giving you the time of day."
A concerned woman stepped up and took her by the arm, "I think you�ve had a little much to drink, dear."

MJ glared daggers at her. "Don�t you dare touch me!" She yanked her arm away violently.
One of the men in the red coats, probably the gallery manager, tried to step between Mary Jane and the throng of reporters. He put his hands up defensively. "Please don�t let this ruin your evening-"
"No!" Mary Jane yelled as she violently slapped him aside. "I will not be shooed off or repressed! I�m tired of it!"
The crowd gawked. It was a reports wet dream, the fabled �celebrity meltdown� that meant instant headlines.
MJ got a hold of herself. She took a deep breath before apologizing. "I�m sorry everyone. It�s so aggravating. For my entire life people have been after me, pursuing me, and using me because of my body." MJ looked down at herself, marveling at the way she filled out her black dress. Her fingertips unconsciously danced on the bust-line of her dress. She smiled up at the assemblage, "Sorry. I know some of you find it shocking to see a woman be both beautiful and sexual, but I�m tired of being repressed." Playfully Mary Jane dropped the straps on her dress, teasing.
"How do we know its you?" a rat-faced reporter pressed, "You�ve always used body-doubles in movies before. How do we know this isn�t some publicity stunt to aid you�re failing career?"
"Failing?" anger flashed in Mary Jane�s eyes, "You think I�m, washed up?"
"No," the rat-faced man twitched, "but you are getting older."
Mary Jane fumed. One more comment such as that and she would tear them apart with her bare hands.
"But these photos are so explicit," a female voice spoke, "don�t you feel exploited?"
"Exploited," Mary Jane said numbly. "I�m the most exploited woman on the planet."
"How so?"
She glanced about but was unable to find Norman or Eddie in the gallery. She�d gone too far already. This wouldn�t end well, but this was the perfect opportunity for revenge. The Press was recording every word she said. They would report this in the morning paper. All she needed to do was make sure they had a reason too.
Mary Jane smiled in vampish glee as she slowly peeled off the little black dress; breathing stopped, eyes widened, and pulses raced. The crowd was silent. The only sound to be heard was the quiet rustling of folding fabric as the dress slipped over her hips and dropped to the floor.
"Do I look exploited to you?" Mary Jane whispered in a sultry voice as she hooked her thunbs under her thong, slowly bent over and removed that as well. "Do I have your attention?" she playfully asked.
The crowd was in the palm of her hand, hanging on every word.
MJ smiled slyly, "So yeah, I suppose you could say I feel a little exploited. I�m naked. I�m drunk. I�m drugged out of my mind. The only reason I posed for these pictures was because a serial killer threatened to kill my husband. His name is Eddie Brock and he�ll kill me for saying this."
The face of one woman twisted in shock. "Then why are you saying it?"
MJ laughed. "Because, I�m being drugged by my employer, Norman Osborn, into being his private whore. I don�t want to live anymore. I just want someone to tell my husband why I�m committing suicide."
They�re was no response.
Mary Jane, in nothing but her black fishnet stockings and stiletto heels, handed her crumpled dress to one of the stunned onlookers. "Would you like a souvenir?"

* * * * *
Jessica Drew threw a heavy coat over MJ�s shoulders. "I think you�ve had enough fun for one night." She leaned into MJ�s ear and spoke in a hushed whisper. "I know people and Tony�s loaded. We can get you help for substance abuse-"
The world seemed to explode. A tidal wave of force crashed into their backs and both women were sent flying. Glass shards and pieces of mortar rained down. Everything was confusion in the screaming and smoke.
Jess stood, clearing her head to the sound of cackling laughter.
"Get back here, Osborn!" Venom roared in its stereo double-speak, "We�re not through with you yet!"
"You�re an idiot Brock," the Goblin laughed as his glider hummed in the narrow space of the burning gallery. "Did you really think I would let you get away with this?" The smoke cleared as the Green Goblin waved his arms over the stunned crowd. "These pictures, these people, none of them are part of my plan�" he cackled again as he pulled a pumpkin bomb out of his bag, "�it all has to go!"
"The Spider and his wife are mine!" Venom leaped at the hovering target.
As the two villains fought, tumbling to the floor. The pumpkin bomb rolled ominously towards the stunned reporters.
Jessica lunged for the bomb, "And me without my party clothes-"
Her though was cut off as something painfully crashed into the back of her head. Jessica�s arms flailed as the as a blinding pain crashed down on the top of her skull. Stunned, the dark haired heroine slumped to the ground, blankly staring up at her attacker.
Mary Jane Watson-Parker stood over her. She�d unhooked the velvet ropes from one of the freestanding brass posts and was wielding it like a bat or hammer. The way she bounced the dented post in her hand was nowhere near as intimidating as the satisfied smile on her face. "Too bad you don�t have spider-sense, you man-stealing Jezebel."
Jessica tried to stand. Mary Jane swung. Jessica felt the air rush out of her lungs as she doubled over in pain. Mary Jane reeled back and swung, connecting with Jessica�s face, sending her sprawling through the smoldering gap in the wall.
Mary Jane snapped. She was somewhere else. She couldn�t acknowledge the super-villains batting behind her or the screams of the dead and dying reporters. The smoke didn�t sting her nostrils. She couldn�t feel the heat of the flames on her bare skin. She was in another world. Mary Jane daintily stepped over the wreckage. She leaned the post against her shoulder with one hand, the other found its way to her hip as she sauntered across the sidewalk.
Spider-Woman moaned, rolling amongst the shattered glass. She feebly tried to crawl across the pavement but her arms and legs lacked the strength. The bits of broken glass cut into her skin. She could feel her life ebbing away. A shadow fell over her and she weakly looked up.
Mary Jane smiled.
She had her. Spider-Woman lay defeated at her feet, completely at her mercy. After all she had done to her, the things she�d done to her and Peter, she had no pity.
Jessica mumbled in a semi-conscious haze, "MJ� stop� you�re not like this�"
Mary Jane lifted the bloody makeshift hammer over her head. Jessica�s world went dark.

* * * * *
An armored limousine, black as death, rolled away from the burning gallery.
Inside, Norman Osborn smiled as he pulled his mask off. His pearly whites mimicked the bemused smirk of the rubber mask. Tonight, Lady Luck shared the Goblin�s grimace. It was funny and ironic at the same time. His enemies, everyone who had tried to throw a monkey wrench in his plans were paying for it dearly.
Eddie Brock and the symbiotic alien called Venom were locked in the trunk. Brock in his pride thought that raw power was enough to topple a genius such as Norman Osborn. Did he not think a brilliant chemist and businessman such as himself wouldn�t take precautions? No, Brock and his revolting costume assumed things would be settled in an adolescent brawl. That was why they were in the trunk, writhing in agony. It was funny that he once thought that he would never find a use for that "sonic frog" again. Luckily he had the foresight not to throw the damn thing out.
Brock�s plans were completely destroyed. His blackmail photos were burning in the gallery, with the bodies of those annoying journalists.
Jessica Drew, Spider-Woman, an Avenger and agent of SHIELD, lay unconscious on the floor. She was stripped to her bra and panties, bound at the wrists and ankles by the torn materials of her dress. Norman had never considered her in his overall plot, but her hold over Venom may prove useful. Besides, Mary Jane hated her. Killing Jessica Drew might be the final straw in his corruption of her.
Ah, May Jane. He was particularly proud of that piece of work. He�d loaded Venom�s unconscious body into the trunk and turned his head to see her standing in front of the flames of the burning gallery. Her long red hair fluttered in the heat. An evil light danced in her eyes. The manic smile on her face matched his. She stood over the beaten body of Jessica Drew. The fire cast shadows over her naked curves. The stiletto heels force her to keep her back straight and ass out. The fishnet stocking terminated at mid-thigh. They colored her legs a shadowy dark that matched the soot smeared on her face and torso. Her chest heaved as she breathed heavy, nipples hard and defiant. He could see the excitement glistening from the strawberry patch of hair to the tops of her stockings.
"Should I kill her?" Her face shone with equal excitement.
"No," Norman had smirked, "bind her and bring her."
Norman knew about control. He couldn�t let Mary Jane kill when she wanted to, she had to kill when he wanted to. Norman�s pleasure must always come first.
Mary Jane did not protest. Instead she went about her duties, carefully stripping, binding and loading the unconscious woman into the car. Norman watched her carefully for any signs of rebellion. She obeyed without question. Mary Jane even took the initiative to pour him a martini, his favorite refreshment after mass murder. Human suffering always gave him an erection. With the slightest suggestion Parker�s wife knelt between his legs and fellated him with great skill.
Needless to say, Norman felt it was too good to be true.
"Mrs. Parker, could you hand me the phone?"
Mary Jane�s green eyes looked up from his lap. She could tell he didn�t want her to stop what she was doing. Instead she slipped her foot out of its shoe and fumbled for the phone with her leg, while continuing to suck him. Luckily she knocked it to the floor within ten seconds and scooted it over to where she could reach it with her hand.
"Dial the office."
"mmm-hhh�" Mary Jane hummed affirmative as she recalled the number, dialed, and handed him the phone.
"Thank you, Mrs. Parker. Hold this for me." Norman leaded forward as the phone rang, carefully placing the martini glass just above the crack of her ass. "Don�t spill, that vermouth is expensive."
Mary Jane stiffened her spine, working his shaft with the muscles of her neck, lips and tongue. She sucked only when it seemed the slobber would drip on his costume, something she knew would irk him. Norman noticed the efforts she took to obey while having a halfhearted conversation with Liz. He was particularly amused by the way Mary Jane�s ass swayed with every bump and pothole the limo took.
"Excellent," he finally concluded, "Have the lab-techs prepare the chamber and a cell capable of holding Eddie Brock and his better half. We�ll be there in less than a half hour."
He hung up the phone, chucking it aside. He was in the mood to celebrate. Norman snatched the glass off her back and swallowed its contents with a flourish. "You may fuck me now, Mrs. Parker."
Mary Jane half-rose, stroking him with her hand. "Would you care for my ass or my pussy? Both are open for your pleasure, Mr. Osborn."
A final test for the day. "You�re quite the submissive bitch today," Norman spoke with a hint of menace, "fuck me like I was your husband."
Mary Jane�s jaw dropped, but only for a moment. She took in a deep breath and he was pleased at the jiggle that produced in her chest. "I will try my best, Mr. Osborn�" she spoke as she picked held his leg and pulled off his purple hobnailed boot. "�But it is a difficult thing you ask�" she removed the other by holding it by the heel and curved toe. "�You are a different man�" her graceful, slender fingers found the separation between his pants and torso armor. "�You are so determined, a man who gets what he wants�" MJ gently pulled off his pants, but her face betrayed her eagerness. "�So driven. So determined�" she gently slid off one of his gloves, lovingly caressing it with her cheek. "�Peter has great power, but you actually wield it�" Mary Jane bit his glove by the finger and pulled it free with her teeth. "�Do you have any idea the affect that has on a woman?" She helped him remove the upper part of his costume and threw herself against him.
MJ pressed her nakedness against his, passionately kissing his neck. She shivered as Norman�s hands touched her. "You�re a different sort of man, Mr. Osborn," she whispered between kisses. "Peter is the type I marry, but you are the sort of man I worship."
Norman ginned, lifting her up off her knees. Mary Jane straddled him, restricted by the low ceiling of the limousine. She kissed him on the mouth, as sweetly and deeply as any lover. MJ reached between her legs, steadying Norman�s rigid cock. She gasped as she lowered herself onto him.
"Oh God," She whispered, "let me worship you with my body."
Norman grabbed her by the hips and pulled her dripping snatch onto him, filling her completely.
Mary Jane rocked and writhed, moaning loudly as she did. "You�re bigger�" she whispered, "�You�re harder�"
Norman Osborn chuckled in delight as Mary Jane rode him like a stallion. He squeezed her tits and ass, touching her wherever he pleased. Mary Jane let him dictate the pace, but gave herself over to it completely. He marveled at the way she gripped him with her cunt, timing it in synch with her rocking. Mary Jane was lost in sensation. Norman was lost in the domination.
"Give yourself over to me completely!" He shouted in psychotic glee, "I own you Mary Jane!"
"�yes�" she moaned, "Yes, yes, yes!"
Norman felt it build inside him. He jutted his crotch upwards, penetrating her deeper.
Mary Jane groaned, "No! Please! I can�t!" She dug her nails into his shoulders, drawing blood and pulling herself closer to his ear. "You can�t trust me Norman," she desperately whispered, "I�ve cheated on my husband. I�m a damaged woman. I can�t be trusted. You should kill me now."
Mary Jane froze for an instant, not believing what she said.
Norman laughed.
Mary Jane blinked at the undeniable truth.
He trusts his cock into her, snapping Mary Jane out of her haze. Her face twisted in horror. It was true. She was a liar. She was crazy. She was an adulteress. She whored herself to her husband�s enemies. This could not end well.
"I don�t deserve to be married to Peter. I don�t deserve to be your whore." Mary Jane pleaded with him. "You should kill me now, Norman."
Osborn�s eyes flashed green as he laughed in her face. "Really Mrs. Parker? How would you like to die?"
Mary Jane lifted his hands off her lips and to her throat. "Squeeze," she whispered, "strangle me and throw my body out of the car. Your DNA�s all over me. He�ll come right to you and I won�t trouble either one of you anymore-"
Norman silenced her by flexing his fingers, wringing her neck. He shoved upwards, slamming the back of her head into the roof of the limo with the strength of his arms. "I own you!" He sneered in her reddening face. "You will live and you will die by my pleasure. Do you understand?"
Mary Jane�s mouth was open but she couldn�t utter a work. Instead she mutely nodded.
"Good," Norman chuckled as he resumed fucking her. Mary Jane�s shoulders were pinned to the roof. She had no leverage. Norman easily thrust himself into her slick pussy. He was laughing. She was choking. Her face turned purple.
Norman threw her off him. Mary Jane landed on the bound form of Jessica Drew with the wet slap of skin on skin. Mary Jane gasped and coughed, sucking in as much air as she could.
"I kind of like that," he giggled evilly as he crawled over her, "thanks for finding me a new fetish, MJ!"
Mary Jane didn�t resist. Norman wrapped his strong finders around her slender throat. He squeezed and pinned her down, bending her backward over Jessica Drew�s body. His cock found her slit still wet and willing.
Mary Jane wrapped her arms and legs around him. This was how he wanted her. He owned her. Mary Jane felt her pulse pounding in her temples as she strangled in silence.
Both of them sweat profusely as Norman fucked her hard and fast, marveling at the different colors her face was changing. He felt her body tremble and her cunt clench. She was coming.
The orgasms was long and dragged out as she came in silence. He couldn�t stop laughing. The way her face twisted in pleasure and horror, the deep shade of purple she turned. He was so caught in the moment that his own orgasm snuck up on him. Norman pulled out, shooting his ejaculate all over her hot flesh. He rocked with the force of it, falling back against the seat when he was done.
He panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "That was something else, Mrs. Parker" his voice dripped in sugary sarcasm. "Thank you for the lovely evening. We�ll have to do it again sometime."
She wasn�t laughing. She wasn�t moving either. He knelt over her feeling for the pulse at her neck. He couldn�t find it. He desperately lowered his ear to her chest, listening for a heartbeat. Nothing.
"No!" he shouted in panic.
Norman laid her flat on the floor, throwing the Drew woman out of the way by her hair. He began chest compressions. "1-2-3," he counted out loud. Norman pinched her nose and sealed his lips over hers, tilting her head back and blowing hard into her lungs.
She coughed and sputtered, gasping for air. Mary Jane desperately sucked oxygen into her lungs. She curled into the fetal position and trembled. Already her skin was turning a more healthy shade. With the regenerative properties of the Stromm formula she�ll be up and walking in five minutes.
Naked and sweaty he fell back onto the car seat. There was a slight shift in the cushion. Norman looked to his left. Jessica Drew�s eyes were open. She was tied at her wrists and ankles, a gag stuffed in her mouth.
"I�m terrible when it comes to breaking new toys," Norman quipped as he leered at her body in unrestricted lust. He reached out and felt her tit trough the black lace bra. "I hope, for your sake, that you�re a little more durable."
"I think� I�m still coming�" Mary Jane sighed.
TBC�
- 5
- 6
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Mary Jane's Tangled Web Vol. II