Mary-Jane Watson: Concubinage

MJ lay in the lavash bed she had been given. Silk sheets covered her now perpetually nude body. A soft leather choker adorned her neck.

She couldn’t bring herself to move. Her eyes were red from crying. How could Peter do this? Why had he conquered the city and enslaved countless women?

Herself included for MJ had no illusions about her situation. She might be trapped in a penthouse with the finest luxuries but a gilded cage was still a cage.

And despite being officially labeled a concubine, MJ was still a **** to the man she’d once loved. Said man came strolling in without warning.

MJ gulped. She only saw Peter for one reason. Because he wanted to fuck her. Peter stroked her hair as he kissed her.