by Don Ship
“OH YES!” Stan cried after just over a minute of intense head. Hot cum flooded her mouth. “OH YES! That’s how it’s done, baby. And I get three a night, too.”
Jennifer sat back on her legs, licking her lips and shaking her head. She despised that man, but she also couldn’t help but like anyone who appreciated her good work. Unfortunately, he was correct. Layla’s agreement with Stan, for the Ms Patriot costume, said Jennifer had sex with him at the beginning of each night, during his “lunch break” and at the end of the work night, before she went home.
“Yes you do, master,” Jennifer said, rising up and picking up her gym bag. “Can I go in now?”
“Yep. See you at lunch,” Stan said, looking very content. “Meet me in your room, wearing only red thigh boots.”
“Your wish is my command, master.”
“As it should be.”
“Absolutely,” Jennifer said, walking past him and into the club. He gave her butt a playful swat as she moved past him.
The club’s main room was a flurry of activity as the staff performed the final chores to get ready for opening. Jennifer greeted them as they hurried past, while she headed for Layla’s office. The door was open, and both Layla and Dorothea were at their desks in full dominatrix attire.
“Mistress, I’m here,” Jennifer said, dropping to her knees, head bowed submissively. “I live to serve.”
Layla glanced up, a look of cool appraisal on her lovely face. “Did you bring your spare Ms Patriot costume?”
“Yes, Mistress Layla. I brought it per your command,” Jennifer said, indicating the gym bag. She glanced up at the shadow-box display case on the wall behind Layla, with her entire costume on display. “I have everything but a power belt.”
“Put it on.”
“Yes, mistress.”
Jennifer quickly stripped out of her clothes and jewelry, then pulled on the red stiletto thigh boots. Then she put on the blue choker. Next came the American flag-themed bustier top and short-shorts. She put on the golden tiara and red mask, before pulling on her red opera gloves.
“I’m ready, mistress,” Jennifer said. “Does this meet your approval?”
Layla looked her up and down, grinning wickedly. “It does.”
The sexy blonde dominatrix stood up, and opened up the Ms Patriot costume display case. She removed the golden power belt and walked over to her super heroine slave. Layla personally fastened the power belt around Ms Patriot’s narrow waist. The damaged portion was near the fastener, and on the inside, so no one could see it.
“Perfect. Follow me,” Layla said, turning on a tall stiletto and headed out the door.
Jennifer followed her gorgeous mistress down to the basement. Lights and cameras were already setup, and men were ready to start filming. It was not unexpected, since Jennifer had to read and memorize a script during the day.
They did a quick walk-through, and Jennifer went back halfway up the stairs.
“Action!” Layla called, and the cameras began to film.
It wasn’t easy to go back into full Ms Patriot mode. Mentally, Layla had broken her in more ways than one. But she was always the consummate actress. She had to be to successfully pull-off being both Jennifer Jade and Ms Patriot for so many years. So as she cautiously crept down the stairs in full defensive mode, her nipples were stiff and tingling, her belly full of butterflies, and her pussy wet and squishy with need.
At the bottom of the stairs Ms Patriot paused and grinned arrogantly. “A-ha! Surrender now, vile white slavers! Ms Patriot has arrived to save the day!”
Three men in knit sky masks turned and gawked at her. They were all tall, well-muscled, and well hung.
“Oh no! It’s Ms Patriot, ,” one of them said.
“Yes, miscreant, it is,” she said, standing tall to strike a super heroine pose for a brief second. Then she stepped closer to them, hands on hips, and sneered disdainfully at them. “I am stronger than ten men combined. You are out-numbered and out-classed by me, so I suggest you do yourselves a favor and surrender without a fight. Otherwise, Ms Patriot will be forced to beat you all into submission.”
She heard a creak on the stairs behind her. The fourth “white slaver” had arrived, sneaking up behind her. Ms Patriot pretended not to hear him. The other three slavers made threatening motions toward her, as if to distract her. She shook her head woefully.
“Foolish men. When will you learn that you are no match for a superior woman like myself,” Ms Patriot said haughtily. “Your insufferable male pride and male arrogance will be your undoing.”
“You know, this is a trap,” one said. “We’ve already arranged a buyer for you.”
“A buyer? For me?” she cried, acting shocked. “How dare you! Ms Patriot does not submit to any man! I will — Hhggghhh!”
In that instant, the man sneaking up behind her snaked his left arm through her arms, managing to pin both arms back as he pressed a chloroform-soaked pad over her mouth and nose. That truly shocked Ms Patriot. She didn’t think they would use real chloroform. The statuesque beauty sucked in a deep breath of the insidious drug in her shock. Almost immediately she felt the effects. Her mind began to spin, limbs growing weak.
“Hmmmggghh.”
The sexy super heroine panicked, and tried escape. But she was already depowered, and held securely. As blackness quickly crept in, one of the other men unfastened her top and started playing with her boobs.
“Not so tough now, are you, Ms Patriot?” he said. “Man, some lucky bastard is about to own these great tits. What fun he’ll have titty fucking you.”
By this time Ms Patriot’s mind was pretty much blank. Her knees buckled, baby blues fluttered, rolled up and closed. The shapely super heroine went completely limp.
“And that is the end of Ms Patriot,” the leader said, and they all laughed. “What a super bimbo. She just walked right into our trap. Ha!” He forced a red ball-gag into her mouth, strapping it around her head. “Okay, let’s box her up. We’re about to become very wealthy men.”
They bound her wrists and elbows together behind her back, then tied her knees and ankles. They picked her up and placed her in a long wooden crate, before duck-taping a chloroform pad over her mouth and nose. They tossed her costume top into the crate with her, then nailed the lid down.
“Good bye, Ms Patriot. Enjoy your sexual slavery in a Third World Country.”
Chapter 7
A few days later…
“Ms Jade, did you see the news?” Cindy said, placing the late edition of the Grimme City newspaper on Jennifer’s desk.
Jennifer glanced down and did a double-take. The headline “Ms Patriot Gone” was over a picture of Ms Patriot. In the picture the sexy super heroine was topless (a black bar barely covered her nipples,) ball-gagged, and her elbows and wrists were bound tightly behind her back.
“Oh my,” Jennifer said, baby blues wide. Memories of the “photo shoot” the night after her unmasking by Layla flooded back. There was an elaborate scene acted out, video-taped, and photographed, showing Ms Patriot captured by white slavers, bound, and crated, before being sent overseas into sexual slavery. As those memories flooded back in, Jennifer squirmed in her chair as her spectacular body became erotically energized. She struggled to keep her breathing normal as her heart raced and body became hot and tingly. Layla worried that if both Jennifer and Ms Patriot vanished at the same time, or both ended up at Club Depraved at the same time, nastier criminal elements might figure it out, and come kill Jennifer. So her plan was to get rid of the sexy super heroine a few months before Jennifer quit her high-profile CEO job, and became a full time BDSM sex slave at Club Depraved. Jennifer had no choice but to obey. “So sad. What happened?”
Cindy looked grim as she said, “Ms Patriot was finally captured by white slavers a few nights ago. They sold her to an overseas buyer, and she was shipped off. The experts all agree that she’ll never be seen again. Apparently there’s something about super heroine psychology and/or DNA th
at makes them the perfect sex slave or something.” Cindy shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, but that’s what they are saying. They say since Ms Patriot was the crème de la cream of Grimme City's super heroines, that she was really an Uber Heroine, that means her fall into sexual slavery will be more profound, and she will be slavishly devoted to her new master very quickly. They don’t even think she’ll want to be free after a week or two.”
“That’s the opinion of men, right?” Jennifer said, sneering.
“Of course. The bastards,” Cindy said, scowling. “Do you think they are wrong?”
Jennifer hesitated. She wanted so much to say Ms Patriot was too proud and strong to be kept as a sex slave. She wanted to say the city's most beloved super heroine would return, bigger and better than before. But she understood how her body reacted every night when she reported for sex slave duty at Club Depraved. She could feel her body’s deep hunger, deep need for sex as she sat there in her office. She knew the truth about super heroines, and their Valkyrie enhanced and cursed bodies and minds.
“Unfortunately, they are probably right,” Jennifer reluctantly conceded, her head dropping. “Super heroines are uniquely ‘blessed’ by the Goddess to do what they do, but unfortunately every blessing comes with an equal and opposite curse. The Valkyrie Curse is very sexual in nature. Sex makes a heroine as weak and helpless as she was formerly powerful. Ms Patriot, as the most powerful super heroine of all time, is likely the most profoundly helpless, needy, and eager to please sex slave of all time.”
As she spoke, Jennifer’s mind was wandering to her night job at Club Depraved. As much as she hated to admit it, working there was glorious. It was like an addiction. She craved bondage and sex. She needed it, constantly. It was hard to decide which aspect was the best – bondage, submission, or sex. Well, the very best was being utterly dominated, tied up kinkily, and then fucked stupid.
“Oh no! It can’t be,” Cindy cried, horror filling her expressive face.
Jennifer’s belly clinched, and her breathing became labored. Cindy was so distraught, and so vulnerable. She so wanted another taste of those sweet, pink lips, but she was trying to stop having sex with her beautiful secretary. Every day since their bliss-induced orgy in the board room, Jennifer had enjoyed sex at least once with Cindy. In fact, Jennifer was spending about six hours of her ten hour days at the office having sex with members of her staff and the other board members. Besides, she’d already had one-on-one sex with Cindy twice that day, and once at the daily boardroom lunchtime orgy.
The super sexy billionaire blamed the bliss that Layla gave her every night. Even with just a tiny trace of bliss in her system, Jennifer was incapable of saying no to sex. Everyone there from the eighteen year old intern Heather Henderson, to the eighty year old janitor Hector Hernandez got anything and everything sexual they asked for.
I’m all but a figure-head up here, she thought. Everyone gawks at my figure, then I give them head, while someone else makes all of the important decisions.
Jennifer glanced down at her own body. Her shirt was open down to her belly button, and she wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. Her skirt was short and tight. She wore black fishnet hose, garter belt, and stiletto knee boots. There was nothing even suggesting prim and proper in her attire. Layla did not tell her what to wear to work, so it was all her. Her overwhelming horniness was showing, loud and clear.
“Why fight it?” Jennifer said, stretched sensuously and them gave Cindy a sultry smile. “I can’t wait until evening. Clear my schedule, Cindy, I’m going to work. Have my limo waiting.”
The limo was waiting by the time she reached the street. The driver was one of Layla's men, whose job was to ensure Jennifer didn't stray or go elsewhere for her sexual pleasures. And at night, for his service and loyalty, when Jennifer spent the night in her own bed he shared it with her. Talk about great benefits.
"Take me to work, Clyde," Jennifer said, sitting back, long legs crossed, and starting to examine her long red nails.
"Going in early, boss?" he said, grinning at her via the rearview mirror.
"Not early enough for me," she said. "I'm so damned horny I'm about to explode."
"Club doesn't open for another two hours."
"Then if my mistress is okay with it, I'll entertain you until we open," she said, winking at him.
"That's what I wanted to hear, baby," he said, and headed for the club in all due haste.
Sugar Town was pretty busy that time of day. Men were starting to get off work, and going over to enjoy a beer and strippers before going home to the nagging wife, or to get an actual shot of leg before going home. The thought of all those horny men on the prowl stoked her libido.
“Can you drive faster?” Jennifer said, starting to pant lightly, feeling hot and bothered.
“You want me to pull over and knock one out?” Clyde said eagerly.
“No. Get to the club,” Jennifer rasped out. “I want you to treat me like dirt, tie me up, and make me utterly helpless, and then fuck the shit out of me.” She dropped her eyes, hands rubbing her fluttery belly, then biting her lip, she cut her eyes up to his in the rearview mirror. "You know how I love it hard and rough."
“Hell yes,” he said. “We’re almost there, babe.”
Five minutes later, the limo skidded to a stop in front of Club Depraved. Clyde jumped out, opened the door and grabbed Jennifer’s silky black hair, and dragged her gasping out of the car. Then he pushed her up against the limo, his free hand squeezing her tits.
“Call me Master,” he demanded.
Her baby blues cut back and forth, spotting numerous street people and businessmen stopped to watch what was happening. She recognized two of the businessmen as mid-management employees of her company. They obviously recognized her.
“Hey. Let’s go inside first,” she gasped out, shocked.
“Shut up,” Clyde growled, tightening his grip in her hair. She gasped with pain, her body trembling with suppressed need and desire. Why did being treated so roughly, so disrespectfully turn her on so profoundly? “Listen up, you miserable excuse for a slut whore. You are nothing but dirt. Worthless. Pathetic. You’re only saving grace is being a pretty good fuck. So, call me Master, or I’ll butt-fuck you right here and now.”
“Master!” she cried, which just made her hornier.
“What are you? Tell everyone loud and proud, just what you are,” he demanded.
“I am a pathetic slave slut!” she cried out. “I, Jennifer Jade, am worthless except as a piece of fuck meat!”
“Damn right,” Clyde sneered, yanked her away from the limo and thrust her toward the door.
Jennifer stumbled, frantic to get her footing, but fell. As she tried to get up, he kicked her butt and she slammed into the closed door. She’d just managed to get to all fours when he opened the door and forced her to crawl inside.
“Well, how amusing,” Lady Layla said, standing in the open door to her office. “You’re in early. Again. Give her a hit of the good stuff, Clyde.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, pulled out a capsule and snapped it under Jennifer’s nose.
“Aaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhh!” Jennifer cried, consumed by a monster climax as the Bliss overwhelmed her senses. Then another one hit, “Aaaaaaaagghhh. Oh, YES! I love it so much. Uuuuuuuuugggggggggggggghhhhhh.”
“I think Bliss has allowed Jennifer to achieve her ultimate bliss, as a bondage sex slave,” Lady Layla said, smirking. “Have fun.”
Clyde quickly stripped Jennifer down to nothing but garter belt, fishnet hose, and stiletto boots. Then he buckled a wide black leather slave collar around her slender throat. Finally, he shackled the curvaceous beauty into a large X leaning against one wall.
“I am yours, master. Do with me as you please,” Jennifer gasped out huskily, bound spread-eagle before him. She watched him strip with bated breath, then he moved up between her shapely thighs. He quickly mounted her aching cunt, and grabbed her bouncing tits with both hands, before lowering his fac
e to rub it all over them, some motorboating, and all around titty fun. At the same time, his long, thick cock was pistoning in and out, driving her wild with pleasure. “Oh, Goddess, I have…found….my…BLISS! Aaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhh!”
THE END
Return to the beginning
* * * * *
Please consider leaving a review on the site you purchased this story.
Any and all comments and thoughts on this story are welcome at:
Dark One LiveJournal
e-mail: [email protected]
e-mail: [email protected]
Check out these other stories from Rogue House Press:
Don Ship (author)
Black Cat: Catfight
Black Cat: Dr. Gadget
Black Cat: Felonious Feline
Black Cat: Fierce Competition
Black Cat Collection
Justice Girl: Getting Randy
Justice Girl: Jingle Bells
Justice Girl: Milk Maid Madness
Justice Girl: Wanton
Justice Girl: When the Tide Turns
Justice Girl Collection
Lady Grace: For Love and Money
Lady Katana: Shit Happens
Lady Katana: Vice
Lady Texas: Webmaster
Lone Star: Subjugation
Ms Crusader: Dirty Job
Ms Patriot: Biggs Bimbos
Ms Patriot: Into the Labyrinth
Ms Patriot: No Holds Barred
Ms Patriot: Beauty and the Beast
Ms Patriot: Super Bimbo
Ms Patriot: Monster Ball
Ms Patriot: That Bites
Ms Patriot: Gobblers Galore
Ms Patriot: King Pimp's Super Thanksgiving