Ms Patriot- Winner Takes All

by Don Ship

  Soon Ms Patriot found herself at the bottom of a rousing 69 session. Mona spread her engorged pussy lips and began to work her over expertly. Ms Patriot, not to be outdone, reached up and squeezed the Latina's firm round ass cheeks, and then lifted her mouth to her quivering twat. The Mexican-American beauty was waxed down to a thin landing strip. Her wet folds were fleshy and firm, and Ms Patriot kinda liked it.

  "Mmmmmm, cleanest pussy I've licked in ages," Ms Patriot said, and laughed. "Momma like."

  "But yours is nasty sloppy," Mona said. "We're not the first to fuck you, are we?"

  "No, I've been getting it from all sides all night," Ms Patriot confessed. "I can't even begin to count all of the men and women that have had me since it started late last night."

  "I believe it. You taste like cum," she said. "And you're leaking cum, too."

  "Then clean me up nice, bitch," Ms Patriot said, and slapped the Latina on her sweet ass.

  And Mona did just that. It didn't take oh so talented Mona more than three minutes to bring the super heroine to climax. Two minutes later, Mona screamed her pleasure. Phil could barely stand it. His hard-on was beyond painful, but he soldiered on, taking endless pictures, some extremely close up. In some pictures he could see Mona's pussy juices dripping down from the corners of Ms Patriot's sweet mouth as she ate the Latina out with relish.

  "I knew a ball-busting feminist like you was a lesbian," Phil said at one point.

  "Nope," Ms Patriot said, pausing to grin wickedly at the photographer. "I learned last night beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am bisexual. Jump in bed with us and I'll prove it."

  "Mona! Take the camera and get this on film," Phil said, suddenly starting to strip out of his clothes.

  Like Mona before him, Phil was met by Ms Patriot on her knees at the edge of the bed. She immediately seized his erect cock and gave it a firm squeeze.

  "You realize, of course, I am about to ruin you for all other women," she said, smiling confidently. Then she lowered her lips to his cock and sucked him in. "Mmmm. Tasty."

  With Mona clicking away, near and far, from all angles, Ms Patriot rubbed Phil's cock all over her masked face, then gave the head a deep, open-mouth kiss that Mona had her do five times to get all the appropriate pictures. Then she rolled her lusty tongue around that head, and started licking him down one side and up the other. She even spent ten minutes licking and sucking on his extremely hairy balls. Then she deep throated him until he shot his seed into her mouth, ballooning out her cheeks.

  "Money shot! Get this money shot!" he cried, pulling out of her mouth and jacking off in her face. Milky cum spurted in fits, to be left dripping slowly off her nose, across her smooth cheeks, sharply contrasted on her full red lips. One glob even hit her above the left eye, to leave a thick rope of cum above her baby blue eye. But the best, in Phil's mind, was the thick rope of cum that drooped between the end of his dick and her prettily parted lips. "That is the ultimate money shot, baby!"

  The debauched super heroine smiled wantonly and proceeded to lap up all that tasty cum. She ate it like a starving woman. Nothing tasted sweeter than man cum to her mind and mouth now. It pushed her over the top again.

  "Aaaaaggghhh! Ooooooowwwwwwwwwwww! So sweet," she groaned, making sure she scooped off all the cum on her face and then sucking noisily on her fingers.

  "Mother of God, she's insatiable, Phil," Mona said, grinning with fire in her beautiful dark eyes.

  "Yes, she will have to call herself Ms Insatiable now," Phil laughed.

  "I like," Ms Patriot purred. She rolled to her back and spread her knees wide. Reaching between her legs with one red gloved hand, she spread her sex open wide and started to pull on her hard nipples with the other hand. "Now shut up and fuck me."

  Phil was instantly hard again. Ms Patriot was ready, willing, and demanding he have sex with her.

  Mona spent the next hour photographing Phil fucking Ms Patriot in every position they could image. Then they swapped out and Mona jumped back in bed with dildos and a strap-on for another two hours.

  "Sorry, Ms Insatiable, but you wore us both out," Phil said, sitting and grinning at her.

  "Oh, poo," she said, pouting prettily.

  "But, could you sign this first?" he said, placing a piece of paper on the table.

  "Okay," she said, and promptly signed it without reading it. He leapt out of his chair and cried out with joy when she finished. Then he snatched it up and headed for the door. "Heh, Phil, what did I sign?"

  "The release for all those pictures we took," he said, overjoyed and giddy. "I can legally sell them for a fucking fortune!"

  With that, he was gone.

  Mona looked at the stunned super heroine and shrugged, but was grinning too.

  "You signed it," she said. "Be prepared. He will put them up for auction tonight, and your pictures will be in all the magazines, papers, and on internet sites by morning."

  Ms Patriot thought about it a moment. "He's not the first. I had sex on video last night. I'm sure that is already spreading across the internet like wildfire."

  "Oh my God, you have been busy."

  "Very," she said, and started to dress.

  Together, the two women cleaned themselves up. Even Mona had sex with Phil at times, and got some of the cum on Ms Patriot rubbed off on her at other times. But they had to settle for a sponge bath, or Hooker bath, as Mona put it.

  That comment made Ms Patriot remember Mr. Cocks. Why didn't he stay to claim her? Didn't he want her to be his girlfriend/whore? But she shook her head to clear that thought, because she remembered why she submitted to all those men and women over the past twenty hours.

  Patriot Girl. Her beloved ward, Lynda, needed her to save her.

  "Gotta go," Ms Patriot said, striding out of the studio into the neon lit street. "Great Freya, it was midday when I went in, and night when I came out. How long was I in there?"

  "Heh, babe, how much for a date?" a rather handsome thirtysomething man called as he pulled up in a Corvette convertible.

  Ms Patriot looked to the left. She could see the central tower of The Palace, her ultimate goal. But he wanted to hire her. She had to submit, or risk losing Lynda to the evil pimp.

  "Fifty dollars," she said.

  He smiled as he looked her over lustily. Then he froze, looked harder, and screwed up his face in distaste. "Ugh, skank! You have cum dripping down your leg, whore. Take a bath sometimes."

  And with that, he drove off.

  Three hookers in thigh boots and hot pants walked by, and broke up laughing. She watched him leave in horror, and made worse by the laughing prostitutes.

  "I-I've been…um…busy," Ms Patriot said, head dropping as she walked away. As she walked, she reached down and wiped off the offending drip.

  "Girlfriend, come here," a black hooker said.

  She led Ms Patriot into an alley and proceeded to teach her how to expend all that excess cum. Normally, she would do it over a toilet, but at the time the cold concrete accepted the indignity well.

  "Thank you," she said. "I'm, uh, new at this. I don't know how to thank you."

  The hooker looked her over closely and frowned.

  "You can thank me by working on a different street than me," she said. "I can't complete with that body."

  "No problem. I'm out of here," Ms Patriot said, and strode off confidently. Back on the street, she turned toward The Palace. "Now time to rescue Patriot Girl."

  It took another seven hours to get to The Palace. The exhausted super heroine was forced to turn trick after trick en route. Men just wouldn't stop propositioning her. She rarely got more than a dozen steps out of the hooker hotel before being propositioned again, and again and again. At one point there were five men waiting outside her room for their turn. But sometime after five in the morning she walked out to find the streets empty.

  Finally.

  Ms Patriot had fifteen hundred and fifty dollars stuffed down her boots for King Pimp. It would be so humiliating giving h
im the hooker money she earned for him. He would make sure everyone knew about that, too. Though, strangely, she was rather proud to know she earned so much on her first day, and most of the earnings during the last half of the night. It made her wonder just how much cash she could earn in a work day, or work night.

  "This night has ruined me," she said dismally, finally seeing the entrance to that infamous brothel before her, just a block away. "I am destroyed. My pristine reputation ruined. My once pure mind is corrupted and sexually sullied. We'll have to hang up our masks and costumes after tonight, or at least I will. Maybe Purple Avenger will mentor Patriot Girl."

  She considered that a moment. Without the necessity of being chaste to fuel her power belt, she could enjoy a healthy sex life. There was a lot of appeal to that, after the previous two nights and a day. Of course, the very real threat of turning into a raving nympho slut scared her. Once started, she might not be able to control her raging needs and desires.

  "Oh, baby," a sexy feminine voice said behind her. "That sweet round hiney is begging to be spanked."

  Ms Patriot's heart leapt into her throat as he head whipped around, eyes wide, and lips slightly parted. Before her stood a drop dead gorgeous brunette in full dominatrix leather and seven inch spiked heels, on a 3 inch platform. Even in the platforms, Ms Patriot towered over the five foot nothing beauty.

  "Awful petite for a domme, aren't you?" she said, without thinking.

  Her laughter was musical and tugged at the warrior woman's battered heart.

  "I know, right?" she said, big sapphire blues eyes atwinkle with delight. "I'm Princess Petite, Professional dominatrix extraordinaire. And I would love to dominate and spank you, darling."

  Ms Patriot hesitated. It wasn't a command. Or a request for sexual services. Not exactly. So she could turn her down.

  "Sorry, I'm not really into that," Ms Patriot said.

  "Wait, are you the real Ms Patriot?"

  "Yes."

  "Not a hooker dressed like her?"

  "No. It's really me. Honest."

  "Wow, I've never met a real live super heroine, and this city is infested with them," Princess Petite gushed, shaking her hand. Then she gave the super heroine her card. "I work over at The Palace mostly, but I freelance as well. Call me and I'll take good care of you, darling."

  Ms Patriot scowled when she realized she was returning home after a long night at work at King Pimp's brothel. The dominatrix didn't notice, being too consumed with admiring her statuesque body with near worshipful blue eyes.

  "You think I need, much less want to be dominated and humiliated?"

  "Of course you need it!" Princess Petite said, laughing. "All the really powerful need to feel helpless sometimes, to bring them back into emotional equilibrium."

  "Bullshit," Ms Patriot said, tossing the card aside.

  Princess Petite frowned, and walked over to fetch her card.

  "These aren't cheap," she muttered. She looked Ms Patriot over, then said, "Come with me, and I'll prove to you I am right."

  Ms Patriot gawked at her a long moment. Not now! Not when she was so close to final victory. Why did she even bother to speak with that damn woman?

  "A-Are you commanding me to come with you?"

  Princess Petite's beautiful sapphire eyes widened ever so slightly. Ms Patriot realized the dominatrix just then understood that she could command the sexy super heroine and she would obey.

  "Kneel!" Princess Petite commanded, slapping her riding crop hard against her shiny black thigh boot.

  Now that was definitely a command that had to be obeyed.

  Ms Patriot dropped to her knees before the dominatrix. Princess Petite lifted her chin with that black riding crop and admired the super heroine's trembling red lips a long moment, a smug smile claiming the domme's beautiful face.

  "I knew it," she said. "Come with me, slave."

  Princess Petite led Ms Patriot into the building behind them. It was an apartment building. She was taken to the dominatrix's apartment. Princess Petite, of course, had a nice little dungeon setup in the spare bedroom. Ms Patriot didn't think a professional dominatrix would bring a client to her own home, so it had to be for her personal use with friends and lovers. Despite that, it seemed well stocked with bondage gear to her mind.

  "Would you like a nice little spanking now, Ms Patriot?"

  "Yes, Mistress," she said without hesitation. It was not a command or request, but a real question. She could've said NO without worry. But she wanted a spanking. Ms Patriot wanted a spanking. "I've been a bad girl. I must be punished."

  Ms Patriot was thinking about her failure to reach Patriot Girl yet. She was sure Princess Petite wouldn't allow her to leave quickly. Patriot Girl had already been under their enemies' power for over thirty-one hours. How could deviant sex industry miscreants like King Pimp and Mistress Tabitha keep their lusty hands off such a ripe young beauty?

  All my fault. I've been weak. I deserve to be punished. I need to be punished.

  "All fours and hold position."

  "Yes, Mistress," Ms Patriot said, assuming position. She looked over her shoulder as Princess Petite slowly walked up behind her, her stilettos clicking on the hardwood floor. The riding crop in her delicate little hand was long and blackest black, and totally decadent and wicked to the now submissive super heroine. Then the Ms Patriot began gnawing on her lower lip. "Please, no mercy. I've been very bad."

  Princess Petite smiled down at her with superior airs, spread her feet wide, and raised the crop way back one handed. Ms Patriot sucked in air and turned away. She did not want to see that brutal swing, but she heard the shoosish of air.

  CRACK!

  "Yyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeooooooooooooooeeeeeeee!"

  The wicked riding crop left a raised, red welt across her silky smooth ass cheeks. It felt like white hot fire. It set her libido on fire, and sent a chill through her shapely body as goose bumps rose up.

  CRACK!

  "Eeeeeoooooooooooooooowwwwwwwww!"

  CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

  "Aaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeee! Oh! Oh! Aaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!" Ms Patriot cried, the pain too much to bear. Her power belt hadn't given her any super powers since being gang-banged at the titty bar. That included endurance to pain and fast healing. She was just a regular woman being whipped now. And felt every stroke of the riding crop across her rump profoundly. "Mercy! I beg mercy!"

  Princess Petite smiled knowingly. She set aside the riding crop without a word and walked over to the wall. She removed a pair of handcuffs and a pair of shackles. Ms Patriot watched her teary eyed, a big lump in her throat. It was so hard to breathe once she realized the petite domme intended to bind her tightly.

  I'll be utterly helpless, she thought, looking at the steel cuffs for wrist and ankle with growing dread. I won't be able to defend myself. She'll be able to do ANYTHING to me she wants.

  That thought took her to the brink of climax. Her heart raced and a lump formed in her throat. Her pussy was so wet it began to leak down her thighs as her oversexed body began to tremble. Without thought or command, Ms Patriot's right hand rose up and squeezed her huge tit as the left dropped down to stroke her throbbing pubic mound.

  Princess Petite walked in front of the vanquished super vixen, and graced her with the so smug, all knowing smile again. They locked eyes, the intensity burning through the kneeling super heroine, sucking the will to fight out of her. Then the petite dominatrix moved her right foot forward.

  "Kiss the toe of my boot, and make it hot and pretty," Princess Petite commanded.

  "Yes, Mistress," Ms Patriot said meekly. The sexy super heroine bent over and slowly, sensuously kissed the unyielding, shiny leather of the domme's boot.

  "Someone has trained you very well," Princess Petite said. "What is her name?"

  "Domina Dorothea."

  "Really? That's who trained me," she said, all giggly with delight for a few seconds, then she snapped back into her dominatrix persona, Princess Peti
te. "She is also the one that named me Princess Petite."

  "Please forgive me for asking, Mistress, but how old are you? Sometimes you look sixteen," Ms Patriot said.

  Princess Petite scrunched up her face in annoyance. "I'm eighteen. I'll be nineteen in six months. But, rest assured, Ms Patriot-slave, I am more than old enough and dominant enough to control you."

  "Yes, Mistress. I beg your forgiveness for my audacity," she said, dropping her eyes meekly. "I should be spanked again."

  "Really? How amusing," she said, stepping up close. "Hands to the small of your back, wrists crossed. Now."

  Ms Patriot complied without hesitation, even though darkest dread began bubbling up deep within her. Her body was already beginning that slow rise to climax, the fires of her intense, insatiable needs and desires fully aflame. The helplessness of bondage might be the final nail in her coffin. Tiny little Princess Petite might be the one that shattered the last vestiges of her self-image as a strong, superior woman.

  "Oh, my…," Ms Patriot breathed when the cuffs were snapped on, leaving her helpless. A rather small climax exploded between her legs, shaking the very foundation of her psyche. "Please, Mistress, be merciful. I'm so weak right now. So vulnerable." She looked up and locked eyes with Princess Petite. "I c-could lose myself. Lose Ms Patriot in your chains."

  "Wow," she whispered, then her eyes glinted. "I can break the legendary, the all-mighty Ms Patriot. I'll become a living legend." She used a curled up finger to lift Ms Patriot's chin up high, head bent painfully back, full red lips quivering. "No mercy for you, Ms Patriot Slave. Never any mercy for you."

  "Mmmmmmmmuuuuuuummmm," Ms Patriot groaned sensuously as their lips met and Princess Petite immediately began to dominate her in that so sweet lipstick kiss. Within seconds her libido went into overdrive, and she was pushed over the top again. "Uuuuggggmmmm!"

  "Incredible," Princess Petite whispered, sapphire eyes full of wonder as she looked her prize over. "The strongest woman in the city, and the weakest at the same time. You are like clay, to be molded into anything I want."

  The sexy domme shackled the statuesque super heroine's ankles, then stood up before her with hands on hips, in a classic super heroine pose.