DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 OR EASILY OFFENDED BY SEXUAL MATERIAL, BONDAGE, DISCIPLINE, FEMALE SUBMISSION OR OTHER SEXUAL SITUATIONS.

Ms Americana, Brenda Wade and Delta City are the creations of Mr. X. I came up with the villains, like King Pimp.

Please direct all comments and feedback to dark_one@live.com or visit my new blog at: /. Please put Ms Americana, Story response, feed back or something like that in Subject line or I might delete thinking it is spam.

BRENDA AND LYDIA: DEVIL'S DEAL

By Dark One

“Lydia! Girl, you are sooo bad!” Buffy Sanders cried, giggling. The tall, willowy blonde, green-eyed socialite and Lydia’s sorority sister staggered down the street. There were four sorority girls, counting Lydia. All were nineteen to twenty, blonde and beautiful. They were celebrating Tiffany’s birthday. “For such a goodie-goodie girl, you tell the most raunchy jokes.”

They were heading back to their cars, parked back at their sorority house, just five blocks away. They had walked over to the club district, between downtown and Sugar Town. They walked because they knew they were going to be drinking, and Lydia insisted they not drink and drive. So now it was two in the morning and they had to walk back to the sorority house.

“Lydia’s just as naughty as the rest of us, but she’s too AFRAID to show it,” Tiffany Wilcox said.

“You’re so full of it, Tiffany,” Lydia said. She smiled secretly to herself. If they only knew her secret identity! “I’m not afraid of ANYTHING. I have more guts than the rest of you combined.”

“Bull,” Britney Anders said.

“I don’t think so,” Buffy said. “Scardy cat.”

“What! Scardy cat? ME?” Lydia cried, outraged. “I’m braverer than all of you combined. Dolts.”

She stopped and frowned. How much did she have to drink? Why was it so hard to speak clearly?

The other girls squealed with laughter and delight. They all so loved taunting each other, and especially Lydia. Truth was, they’d all drank a little too much. Even Lydia was more than a little tipsy, which made walking in her bright red five inch stiletto pumps…interesting. She wore a black miniskirt and red midriff exposing top. All of her friends were similarly attired. They were all college sophomores, after all.

“Prove it,” Tiffany said.

“Okay, how?” Lydia said. She held up her fists. “I’ll take you all on. Right now.”

“You’re so stupid when you drink,” Britney said, and laughed.

“Oh! I know! I know,” Buffy said. “I did this once. It was so cool and scary and fun.”

“Tell us,” Tiffany said, looking eager.

“Let’s lure some bum into an alley, and rob him,” Buffy said.

“No!” Lydia instantly said. “That would be wrong.”

“Coward,” Tiffany said.

“Scardy cat,” Buffy said.

“Killjoy,” Britney said.

“No, I’m not,” Lydia said defensively. Her friends were looking at her like she was pathetic. “We could get hurt. Men are so much more stronger than girls.”

“I knew you’d be too afraid,” Buffy said, scowling.

‘I’m not afraid of any man,” Lydia said. “I’m a superior woman. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, right, girlie-girl,” Tiffany said. She shook her head woefully. “You’re no fun. Why do we hang out with you anyway?”

“Hey, look, a homeless man,” Britney said. “Lydia can prove how superior she is.”

“If she wasn’t such a fraidy cat, scardy cat,” Buffy sneered.

Lydia glared at her friends. How dare them accuse her, of all people, of being afraid of anyone. She was a superior woman, and a super heroine, too.

“Let’s do it,” Lydia said, eyeing the homeless man warily. He was tall and slim, but stooped and bedraggled. Even Britney could take him down. The four of them wouldn’t have a problem with him. “What exactly are we doing? We just going to go up and shake him down?”

“Ah, no, silly,” Buffy said. “Duh. We’re pretty girls. We lure him into a dark alley with promises of sex. He’s a man. He’ll be more than eager to follow.”

“Then we jump him and beat him up?” Tiffany said.

“Whateva,” Buffy said. “When I did it before, one of the girls would get his attention by pretending to want to make out with him, and then just before they actually started petting or kissing, another girl whacks him on the head.”

“Lydia can be the bait,” Britney said.

“What? Why me?”

“It’s the scariest job. You’re proving you aren’t a scardy cat, remember? Duh,” Tiffany said, rolling her eyes. “Scardy cat.”

Lydia scowled at her, but had no choice. They’d decided.

“I’ll be bait,” she said. “He’s so disgusting. I hope I’m a good enough actress.”

With that, the sexy college quartet headed towards the hapless homeless man. They approached with sassy strides, claiming his undivided attention. As they neared, Lydia got a good look at him. He looked to be in his late twenties, early thirties, with long tangled hair and unkempt beard. He was, in a word, filthy looking.

“Oh look, a man,’ Buffy called.

“Oh yeah,” Britney said. “I like.”

“No, he belongs to me,” Lydia said. She strode forward, working her well rounded hips like a real woman should. The bum just gawked at her, stunned speechless. “Hey, baby, what’s your name, big boy?”

“Alfred.”

“Well, Alfred, this is your lucky night,” Lydia said, glad it was so dark. Hopefully he wouldn’t see that her face was bright red with shame. If Brenda ever learned what she did, she would just DIE. “You want to party with us? You want to party with…ME?”

“Yeah!” he said, nodding eagerly. He looked her over with hungry, watery eyes. Lydia was sure she would catch some terrible disease just be being close to him. “Are we going to a club?”

“Oh, no, clubs won’t let us do what we want to do with you,” Lydia said, her voice low and all sultry and sexy. “We want to get down and dirty with you, baby.”

Albert reached for Lydia, but she just barely managed to avoid his hands, slipping away with a sexy little giggle. He smiled, eyes brighter, but not completely all there. He was clearly inebriated. More so than Lydia and her friends.

"Oh, naughty boy, surely you don't expect me to make a spectacle of myself on the street," Lydia purred sexily. She caught his eyes, gave him a simmering come hither baby look, and started backing towards the nearby alley. Albert followed her with a stupid grin on his face, truly believing he was about to get a shot of hot blonde ass. "You're hot. I want you so bad, baby."

"Yeah," Albert said. "You got pretty lips."

Lydia licked her full red lips, and winked at him. "Do you want to kiss me? Do you want my tongue in your mouth, baby?"

"Yeah."

Lydia saw the other girls following, all wicked smiles and shushed giggles. She thought they should be looking for something to smash over Albert's head, but they hadn't reached the alley yet. They had time, and the alley probably offered more weapons.

"You so pretty, girl," Albert said. "Don't walk so fast."

"Really? You think I'm pretty? How sweet," Lydia said. "I'm going to make you so happy."

"Are we going to fuck?" he asked.

"Of course," she said. "I'm so horny. I need a man before I explode."

"Oh, I can do that," he said. Now they plunged into the night shadows of the alley between two five story buildings. They moved through Stygian darkness a long moment, then she backed into a pool of bright light before a door. "There you are. I can see you good now."

"Have your way with me, baby," Lydia said, and backed into an unexpected wall. "What?"

Then Albert was there. His grubby hands went straight to her tits. She gasped and her eyes went wide. That was more than she expected. Where were her friends? Shouldn't they be bashing him over the head or something?

"Mmmmm. Uuugghhhhmmmm," Lydia groaned, her glossy red lips suddenly claimed by the excited homeless man. Then his hands slipped under her top, and found her 36Ds. She wasn't wearing a bra. He had unfettered access to her firm, young melons, and took full advantage. "Uuuuuuuuummm."

Her head whirled and shifted as his lips slide across and all over her lips, enjoying her sweet warm lips more than any man she'd ever kissed before. Then his left hand left her breasts, and plunged down and slipped under her mini skirt. It went straight to her pubic mound, and pushed her silk thong panties aside. When one of his fingers slipped into her strangely hot and wet slit, Lydia panicked.

"No!" she cried, kneeing him in the balls.

"Ugh!"

Then she smacked him with an elbow to the temple, followed by a knee to the face as he doubled over from the knee to the nuts. Albert grunted in pain, and dropped bonelessly into a pile at her feet.

Lydia just gawked at the poor, crumpled man before her, filled with shame and guilt. He was an innocent. A victim of their prank.

"Get his money," Britney whispered loudly.

"Get it," Tiffany and Buffy said in unison. Then they looked at each other in surprise, and both said at the same time, "You owe me a coke."

The other three women squeal with laughter at that. Everything was so much more fun when drunk, and funnier, too. Lydia, though, shook her spinning head and frowned at him. If she didn't rob him, then he was abused for nothing and her friends would disown her for being a scardy cat. So she took a deep breath, dropped to her knees beside Albert and started riffling through his filthy clothes.

Five minutes later, "I got three dollars and twelve cents."

"Oh well, can't expect much from a homeless guy," Buffy said, shrugging. "But you did good. Didn't she?"

They all agreed Lydia was a real Amazon warrior. She swelled with pride to see the admiration in their eyes now. After all, she'd taken Albert down by herself.

"Halt. Police," a fierce male voice called from the shadows.

"Aaaiiieeee!" they all screamed, and as one took off running towards the street.

Lydia only got about three steps before a large, strong male hand grabbed her right wrist and spun her around. Suddenly, Lydia found herself face to face with a man she knew only too well, as both Lydia and more so as Flag Girl.

The Weasel.

"Captain Wessel!" she cried. Captain Andrew Wessel, Chief of Vice, was grinning at her with wicked glee. He was six four, about forty-five and growing a paunch. His brown hair was cut short. On the mean streets of Sugar Town he was called The Weasel. He was as mean, corrupt and spiteful as they came. "What are you doing here?"

"Witnessing a crime," he said. "Maybe a felony. You could be looking at hard time, Miss Wills."

"No, it was just a game," she cried, shaking her head NO. Where were her friends? Why weren't they coming back to back her up? "I didn't mean to hurt him. I panicked, that's all."

"Doesn't matter. You are under arrest," he said.

Lydia had a vision of all the press coverage of this incident. Her shame would be smeared all across the newspapers. Brenda would be humiliated and furious. And The Weasel knew it. In fact, he loved it. Brenda was constantly on his ass, berating him and his department in private and public. She'd been trying to get him fired from the police for over a decade.

"Please, there's got to be something I can do," Lydia said. Her throat tightened and butterflies erupted deep in her belly. The old lecher had propositioned her countless times as both Flag Girl and Lydia. He had also proposed indecent activities to Ms Americana and Brenda. He was a truly depraved man, with an insatiable appetite for debauchery. "I-I'm willing to d-do anything."

The Weasel licked his lips as he looked her over carefully. He had to decide on instant sexual gratification, or pubic embarrassment of his enemies. Lydia was betting his libido won out over his hate.

He reached out and cupped a tit through her shirt. Giving it a squeeze, he smiled and reached up under her skirt. Lydia rose up on her toes as his fingers caressed her so intimately. Then, fondling her tits and fingering her pussy, Chief Wessel leaned down and claimed her full red lips. That went on for a good five minutes, then he looked around warily.

"We have to get out of here," he said. "Once we get back in my car, if you still want to get out of this predicament, make that offer again. Next time, be more specific on what you are offering, and add all the cash you have on you to it, as well. I will make my decision based on what you offer. Now, come with me."

The Weasel took her by the upper left arm and returned to his unmarked squad car. It was parked at the other end of the alley. Lydia cursed her lousy luck to commit her one and only crime in the alley the dirtiest cop in Delta City was inside.

"Okay, Ms Lydia Wills, you have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," he began, and gave a very bad reciting of the Miranda Rights. "Is there anything you would like to say or admit at this time?"

"Captain Wessel, I will do anything if you let me go," Lydia said. "Anything at all. Blow job. Intercourse. Anal sex. Anything at all, or even all of it." She handed over a fist full of cash. Her best guess, there was about seven hundred dollars there. "This is all the money I have on me. I can get more. Name your price, and I'll do everything I can to get it for you."

"Are you bribing me?"

"What?" she said, suddenly petrified. Did he just set her up? Was the radio on and mike keyed? "Oh God, no."

"Ha ha!" he laughed, and entwined his thick fingers into silky blonde hair. Then he pushed her face into his lap as his other hand pulled out his cock. "Suck me off, rich bitch."

Lydia gobbled him down with eagerness. She so wanted to please him. She NEEDED to make him happy. She rolled her tongue around that cock, sucked and nuzzled it. She even very gently nibbled at it, doing everything she knew to give him ultimate sexual pleasure. He lasted about ten minutes, and suddenly started spewing hot cum in her mouth. She sucked it all down, swallowing every last drop.

"Excellent, Lydia. Well done," he said, all relaxed and self-satisfied. "That was one of the best blow jobs I ever had. You've done that before."

Actually, she had. To avoid sex, which would sate her sexually and take away all of her pent up sexual frustrations, and therefore make her Flag Girl power belt useless to her, she had gotten miraculous at given head and blow jobs. In college, she was kinda known for her BJs in certain circles.

"Am I free to go now?" Lydia asked, trying to hide her humiliation from that hateful man. "I gave you what you wanted."

Lydia doubted it would be that easy. There was a very good chance he would want sex on a regular basis. He would blackmail her into his bed for as long as he could. She was pretty sure she'd be able to worm her way out of it, or used her Flag Girl persona to frighten him off. Worse case scenario, she would tell Brenda. She'd know how to deal with The Weasel.

"I don't think so," he said. "I have you on tape bribing me."

Lydia's heart frozen. He tapped the dash-cam. She hadn't noticed it was turned around facing them. Her world started spinning out of control. She felt dizzy and sick.

"The way I see it, you can choose between being absolutely obedient, or going to state prison," he said. "Even if I go down for this, which is doubtful, you will go to prison. You made the bride, to get out of a serious crime. So, what's it going to be? Obedience or prison?"

"You know I have no choice. I will obey you."

And with those words Lydia knew she'd sealed her fate. It would not be a pretty or pleasant fate, either, of that she was sure. The Weasel wanted revenge against her guardian, Brenda Wade, and against her to a lesser extent. She was afraid to even consider what he would force her to do -- his personal sex slave? French maid whore? Something even more unsavory?

Wessel started the car, backed out of the alley and drove straight into Sugar Town. Lydia hadn't expected that. It frightened her. In no time the vice chief pulled up and parked in front of a notorious brothel -- the House of Joy. It was owned by another mortal enemy of Ms Americana and Flag Girl, Mistress Tabitha.

Captain Wessel half dragged Lydia inside that infamous brothel. It was a six story former hotel. There were two hundred and fifty rooms in that brothel, and rumor was Mistress Tabitha had two hundred girls working at any given time. Twenty four hours a day. Seven days a week. Holidays included.

The five upper floors were divided into bedroom. Workstations for whores. Fifty rooms per floor. The ground floor was mostly divided into themed entertainment areas -- bondage room, jungle room, stripper room, etc. There was also a large kitchen and bar. And, the owner of the brothel, Mistress Tabitha, had an extensive apartment on the ground floor.

Lydia was taken inside, through the main parlor and to a back stair. Then she was taken down into the basement and to a plain room. There was a straight back hair in one corner and a small bed in the exact center of the room. She counted a dozen video cameras pointed at the bed. The Weasel called it the interview room, whatever that meant.

The Weasel stripped her and handcuffed the sexy blonde nineteen year old socialite. Lydia was only wearing the handcuffs and her red patent leather stiletto pumps when the brothel owner entered, attended by two huge thug bodyguards. Mistress Tabitha as a gorgeous, statuesque redhead, so shapely Lydia was sure she possessed the Aphrodite gene.

As usual, Mistress Tabitha wore her trademark all red. She normally wore leather dominatrix outfits, but that night she was sheathed in red latex. To Lydia, it looked like it was a catsuit of sorts, with a bustier like top. The stiletto boots were part of the outfit. She saw no seams dividing the footwear from the rest of the outfit. The only non latex garment was the red leather corset cinching her narrow waist tightly.

The two bodyguards were almost twins in appearance. Both had shoulder length brown hair, matching sunglasses, goatees and black suits over black t-shirts. Lydia estimated them at six eight, three hundred pounds of pure muscle and attitude.

"How sweet, Andrew," Mistress Tabitha said, smiling so brightly Lydia felt some of the tension bleed from her body. How could anyone who smiled so beautifully, so sincerely be evil? "You brought me someone on my To Do List. Lydia Wills. That stuck up Brenda Wade's sexy morsel of a piece of cunt candy."

"What?" Lydia said, now confused. "I don't understand."

"Oh, come on," Mistress Tabitha said, moving up close. She reached up and cupped the captured teen's heavy tits and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Don't even try to tell me you are not living in Wade Manor because of what you do for Brenda in bed. But don't worry, like really like lipstick lesbians."

"No! Yucky!" Lydia cried. "I'm a virgin! I would never!"

"Virgin?" Mistress Tabitha said, shocked. She slanted a curious look at The Weasel. "You didn't rape her before bringing her over here?"

"I made her suck me," he said. "I didn't know she was a virgin."

"Your loss," Mistress Tabitha said. She looked Lydia over with relish. "Are you selling or renting?"

"Renting," he said. "I want her to continue her daytime life as a socialite coed, but then spend her evening as a whore."

"You have something on her to keep her working?"

"Yes. I have her on audio/video bribing me," he said, grinning. "She really is a stupid bimbo of the highest order."

They all laughed at that. Lydia felt her face burning.

"Does she get any of the money she will earn?"

"No," he said. "We split it. I want the same deal with her as we have with Commissioner Borden's two daughters."

"Deal," Mistress Tabitha. "Boys. Let's introduce sweet thang here into the world of sex and debauchery."

Each bodyguard seized an arm while Captain Wessel sat in the chair to watch. Mistress Tabitha pushed a button in the wall and all of the cameras came on. Lydia's big blue eyes went wide at that realization. Then Tabitha claimed her undivided attention when she pushed up close, and pressed her full red lips into Lydia's lips, claiming them unconditionally.

"Mmmmmm," both women groaned as they shared that sensuous lipstick kiss.

"Uuuummmmgghh," Lydia groaned when the brothel madam's fingers touched her pubic mound, then pushed into her hot, tingling twat. Lydia squirmed and gyrated her hips in a vain attempt to escape Tabitha's talented fingers. For five minutes their lips slid all over each other, tongues teasing and taunting, while Tabitha masturbated the helpless coed. Lydia's sexy shapely body was on fire very quickly, and she was overheated and highly aroused when Tabitha found her engorged clit. Lydia's body tensed, knees locked and back arched as intense, mind numbing pleasure ripped through her, "Uuuuuuuuugggggghhhhhhhhh!"

Mistress Tabitha released her lips, and sucked in a hard, erect pink nipple. Lydia grunted, but couldn't tear her attention from the fingers driving her wild between her legs. The sexy blonde knew within seconds of Tabitha finding her clit is as all over but the crying. She would not be able to suppress the coming climax. But she had to try, because as a superior woman and secret super heroine, she couldn't just give up without a fight.

'Ugh," she grunted. "Please, I can pay blackmail! If you stop and let me go I'll pay you way more than you can ever make by prostituting me!"

"It's really not about the money," Wessel said.

"It's kinkier than that," Tabitha said, and laughed. "We LOVE to force hot young socialites and other powerful, stuck up women into humbling themselves as our whores."

Lydia realized she had no hope of salvation, and lost her battle. The threatening climax surged through her oversexed body. The socialite coed beauty threw her head back and screamed.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeee! Oh! Oh, my Goddess!" she cried, eyes wild. "Please…I can't take…..Aaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Oooh, I like the screamers," Mistress Tabitha cooed. She stepped back and motioned at the bed. "Take her boys. Front and back."

Lydia was forced up onto the bed, on her knees between the two huge bodyguards. They pulled out big cocks, and she was promptly impaled upon the cock to her front.

"Uuuuuughhhh, that is sooooo….," she groaned. Then the man behind her shoved his cock up her ass unexpectedly. She couldn't believe she forgot he was back there with evil intentions. "Aaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeee!"

Still highly aroused by Mistress Tabitha's climaxing of her, Lydia quickly knew they were going to tame her. They were good, and worked well together. She suspected they practiced it, because their strokes were in perfect synchronism, both pushing in and pulling out at the same time. It was more stimulation than the helpless beauty could withstand.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee! Oh, uuuuuuuuuuggggggggggghhhhhh!" she cried, then began panting as she looked around wildly. It was too much. Too much. She spotted the camera, recording her descent into debauchery for prosperity, documenting her ultimate shame and humiliation. Lydia climaxed again and again and again, "Aaaaaaaaiiiiieeeeee! Oh! I am Taaammmmmmmmmeed! Oh help me they have tamed me! Aaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!"

Within fifteen minutes of that, Lydia Wills went to work upstairs.

# # #

"Lydia!" Brenda snapped at her ward. "What's gotten into you?"

The beautiful blonde's face flamed up. She couldn't look her mentor in the eyes. In fact, Lydia had been acting strange for a whole month, ever since Tiffany's birthday. She absolutely refused to go out as Flag Girl. Her excuses were always lame: homework, sorority event, promised friends she go out with them, etc. Once, Lydia would drop everything to put on her beloved costume and go kick criminal butt.

"Is it a boy? Do you have a boyfriend or something?"

"No!"

"Girlfriend?"

"Oh, please, Brenda. You know me," she said. "I'm not seeing anyone…um, special."

"Really? Then put this on," Brenda said, and handed Lydia her Flag Girl power belt.

Lydia took the golden belt in hand and held it lovingly. She looked it over a long moment, gently caressing the decorative "buckle" in front, with the big red FG emblazoned there. It was the belt that made her a super heroine, Ms Americana's beloved sidekick.

"I c-can't," she whispered. "I am unworthy."

"Nonsense," Brenda said. "Put it on. Or is there something I need to know about why you cannot put it on?"

"I…I…I've been having sex," Lydia said, dropping her eyes in shame. Once that was out, she couldn't stop herself. "I am a whore. I work nights in the House of Joy."

"What!?!" Brenda cried, horrified. "Why? How?"

Lydia told her sad story. Humiliated and frightened that Brenda would cast her out in disgust, she skimmed over it. She told of her "crime" against the bum, and how The Weasel caught her red handed, and blackmailed her. She forgot to mention he tricked her into offering a bribe, but did describe her "interview" in the House of Joy, and how Mistress Tabitha worked her so hard every night.

By the time Lydia finished her tale of woe, her mentor and guardian was fuming.

"You stay here," Brenda said calmly. "I will take care of it."

An hour later, Brenda Wade strode into Chief Wessel's office and slammed the door closed. The head of Vice gave her an annoyed look.

"You have a problem, Wade?"

"No, you have a problem, Wessel," Brenda snarled. "How DARE you blackmail my ward into prostitution! Lydia is a good girl who made one little error in judgment. Heck, she was DRUNK at the time."

"Error in judgment? I bet that is the exact way that poor homeless man thought of it," Wessel sneered. "After she beat him unconscious, and stole what little money he had."

"Lydia was wrong and deserved to be punished," she agreed. "But that was for a court to decide, not you. You had no right to blackmail her into prostitution. That makes you a white slaver. Wessel, you are a disgrace to the uniform."

"Maybe, but I get half of everything she earns," he said, grinning. "And she is a very enthusiastic worker."

"She's not going back to the House of Joy," Brenda said. "And I demand you hand over all the 'evidence' you have to me."

"What, and give up my cash cow? I don't think so," he said, laughing. "Go away, Wade. Lydia is getting what she deserves."

With that Wessel turned back to his computer and started typing. Brenda watched for a long minute, flabbergasted he was defying her. He fully expected to keep blackmailing Lydia, forcing her to continue prostituting herself. What kind of monster was he?

"It is unacceptable for Lydia to continue working as a prostitute. I won't allow it."

"Then she will go to prison. End of story," he said, and grinned. "I kinda like the idea of sweet, innocent Lydia servicing bigger, meaner women in the prison showers."

Brenda blanched.

"Mmmm, caged heat. I like it," Wessel said, grinning evilly. "Of course, if you are really set on freeing her, I think Mistress Tabitha and I would both agree YOU would make an acceptable replacement for her."

Wessel looked her over, head to toe and back again. Brenda was dressed in snug red halter dress that fell to just above the knee. It was silky and flowing. Dark hose and strappy black stiletto sandals finished out her outfit.

"You are a disgusting pig," Brenda said, baby blues narrowing at the vile vice cop. "I am a superior woman. I do not whore myself for anyone. I am above such base, depraved things."

"But you could make me even more money that Lydia," he said, smacking his lips as he stared at her tits.

Brenda smiled. That was his weakness. Money. He kept mentioning it. Wessel loved money. She was rich. Money she could do.

"How much?"

"What?"

"How much will it take for this all to go away?" Brenda said. He perked up, a mercenary glint in his eyes. She smiled smugly and placed her hands on his desk as she leaned over towards him. His eyes almost bugged out as he gawked at her cavernous cleavage. Men were so easily manipulated. "A million? Two? Five? How much do you want?"

It disgusted her that such a vile man would profit so handsomely. But she had to save Lydia, no matter what it cost. Fortunately, she was very rich.

"You, Brenda Wade, Miss Goodie-two-shoes always obey the law, are offering my millions of dollars to lose evidence? I'm shocked," he said.

"I bet you are," she said, shamed to admit he was telling the truth. He had her over a barrel and knew it. Despite his words, she could see he was quite pleased with her offer. Brenda suspected he blackmailed Lydia just to get her to this point, so he could finally make his fortune and retire. Heck, a few million might be worth it to be rid of Wessel for once and all. "So, do we have a deal?"

"You'll give me five million and I forget Lydia assaulted and robbed a homeless man?"

"Yes," she said.

"Are you prepared to write a check right now?"

In answer, Brenda set her purse on his desk. Pulled out her checkbook, and wrote a check for five million dollars. She set the signed check on the desk in front of him.

"Perfect," he said. "Then we have a deal. Strip and kneel."

"No, you get five million, not sex with me," Brenda said, stuffing her checkbook back into her purse. "Make sure Tabitha understands Lydia will NOT be returning, and we don't want to hear a peep out of her."

"No, Miss Brenda 'I'm a superior woman' Wade, you don't understand," Wessel said. He pointed at a TV monitor across his office. "Behold my evidence."

Brenda was confused. She didn't recall Lydia mentioning video evidence. Wessel must've gotten the crime recorded on a dash camera. She frowned, knowing he could've made copies. How could she absolutely ensure he turned over all copies, all evidence?

The TV came alive, and Brenda gasped, frozen in place and incapable of coherent thought. It wasn't evidence against Lydia, but against HER. Bribery. Wessel recorded their conversation. She looked at the shelves behind his desk, and couldn't figure out where the hidden camera was located.

"This is outrageous," Brenda cried, starting to tremble. How could she let a scumbag like Wessel outwit and outmaneuver her? "You can't possibly think this will stick."

"I have the check, signed by you," Wessel said. "Didn't you activity campaign against the DA in the last election? Oh, you know he'll cream his shorts when I show him this."

"You'll go down, too," she whispered. "For blackmailing Lydia."

"Would you drag Lydia into prison, too?" he said. "Shameful. But, if I have to, I think the DA would let me off when I turned state's evidence and testified against BOTH of you. I'd lose my job, but I wouldn't go to jail, much less prison." He laughed. "Have you ever watched the Caged Heat movies? You really have to before you go up the river."

"Can't we work something out?" she whispered, sickened it had come to that.

"A check for one hundred million would be nice," Wessel said. "I have an offshore account to send it to."

"I can't get that kind of money," she said. "I'm worth billions, but it is all tied up. It's all on paper."

"What's the absolute most you can scrap up?"

"I don't….twenty, twenty-five million," she said, trying to think while praying it would be enough to satisfy him. "I have about that in some offshore accounts."

Wessel wrote a number down and handed it to her. "Get on the phone and transfer it all into that account. Now."

Brenda picked up the phone with trembling hands, and fifteen minutes later Wessel had all of her offshore money. Her last ditch, emergency money in case her secret identity was ever learned and she had to skip town fast.

"There. Done," Brenda said. "You are now twenty-eight million plus richer. Can I go now?"

"I love it when stuck up, billionaire babes beg," he said, grinning evilly. He unzipped and pulled out his cock. "You haven't finished here yet. Get to work, babe."

Brenda gawked open-mouthed at his erect dick. Was this how it went for Lydia a month back? Was she going down the same road into debauchery and shame as her sexy ward? Shame and revulsion consumed her, then her shapely body began to tingle in that most frightening of ways.

She couldn't think of anything she could do or say to dissuade Wessel from having sex with her. Brenda couldn't imagine a more repulsive man. He was a police turncoat and a white slaver. He was a man with reason to hate her personally, to want revenge. No one would enjoy the sight of Brenda Wade on her knees more than Wessel. No one would savor her giving his a blow job more than Wessel.

Brenda stepped around the desk, reached up behind her neck and unfastened the one strap holding the dress up. The silky red dress fell to her narrow waist, pooled on her well rounded hips. Her titanic tits dropped and jiggled. Since the dress had no back, the bra was built in. Wessel's eyes bugged out at the sight of her massive tits. He gulped and licked his lips hungrily. Then she pushed the dress over her hips and let it drop to the floor. Lastly, she slipped her lacy black Victoria's Secret thong panties down her legs and off. That left her in lacy garter belt, hose and heels.

The sexy billionaire stepped out of the discarded designer dress and knelt between her enemy's knees. She started stroking his cock with one hand, and fondling his balls with the other. His dick wasn't particularly remarkable, but he had huge balls.

"I want you to look me in the eye when your glossy red lips wrap around my cock, rich bitch," Wessel said.

Brenda lowered her face to his cock. Inches from it she stopped and screwed up her gorgeous face. "Do you EVER wash this rancid thing?"

"What? Can you smell LYDIA on it?" he laughed. "Suck it, slut. Get to work, and don't forget the eye contact."

The super sexy billionaire had no choice but obedience. She locked eyes with her captor, wrapped her full red lips around his cock head and tried to ignore the stench and taste of unwashed cock. He moaned and groaned with supreme pleasure as her lips descended down his rock hard shaft, sucking his dick all the way inside her hot mouth.

She did everything she knew for him, trying to make him cum as fast as possible to end her terrible ordeal and humiliation. Brenda licked and sucked, nibbled and rubbed his cock all over his face. In less than three minutes she succeeded. He flooded her mouth, ballooning her cheeks, with hot, sticky cum.

Brenda swallowed it all, knowing he would never let her spit it out as was respectable. He was that kind of man, she was sure of it. Then, licking her lips, she sat back on her legs and waited for his next order with dread.

"Well done," Wessel said breathlessly. He patted his lap. "Mount up, babe."

"But…but, you just came," she said. "Shouldn't you be limp for a couple hours or something?"

"Couple of hours? Do you have ANY experience with men?" he said. She just looked at him with a blank look. "I guess not. Thirty to forty minutes is more than enough time to recover for most men, but I'm not most men. Besides, when they said you were coming up I suspected why you were here, so took a Viagra just in case I got lucky. I got lucky. Mount up."

"Well fuck me to tears!" she cried angrily. "I was setup. Damn you, Weasel. You won't get away with this. I'll have my revenge some day."

"Some day, maybe, but today is my day, so mount up, baby. Daddy wants a wild ride," The Weasel said. "And Daddy wants to get his greedy hands on those monster melons!"

Brenda gawked at him a long second. Viagra! She cupped her 44DDs gently, lovingly, possessively. She hated it when men mauled her breasts. They were so sensitive, so delicate. They needed and deserved tender loving care, and she knew The Weasel didn't have tender or loving in his vocabulary.

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"I didn't think so," she said, and rose sensuously. Brenda straddled Wessel's lap, leaned over and fed her breasts to him. Both of his hands rose up and painfully grasped her milky globes. "Oh. Please, be gentle."

Wessel began kissing her tits, rubbing his face all over them and otherwise thoroughly enjoying himself. Brenda stood there straddling her tormentor, her head rolled back and her hands to either side of Wessel's head, fingers working as she grunted and gasped, panted and groaned. Then, when he sucked in a hypersensitive nipple and started sucking, she felt her body change. The butterflies and tingling were consumed in liquid heat, taking her breath away.

"Oooooohhhhhhh," she moaned. "Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh."

"I knew you'd like that, you raging slut," Wessel said and returned to mauling her tits.

For twenty minutes he fondled, licked and sucked on her titanic tits. When he was finally sated she was sweating profusely and gasping with every lick and stroke. Her body was on fire, that insidious liquid heat pushing her to the brink of climax. It took all of her considerable, but weakening, will power to hold that threatening orgasm at bay. She knew that if he climaxed her, it would seal the deal. She would be helpless to stop Wessel from doing anything to or with her.

"Mount up, cowgirl," Chief Wessel said, reaching down to stroke her throbbing pussy. His thick fingers brushed her wet, engorged nether lips, and made her jump. "What a whore. Do it now, get your sweet twat around my dick." He put both hands on her flaring hips, and pushed down. "I want you to fuck me."

"You're a boorish bastard," she groaned.

"I know. It's a hobby," he said, and laughed.

Brenda reached down, and guided the Vice cop's cock into her tight twat. She was so wet and hot, he slipped in with little resistance. As she slid down his pole, he felt ten feet long and a foot across. Within seconds he was all the way inside the once virtuous philanthropist and social pillar. The role model business woman who told young girls to avoid sex at all costs was impaled upon a bad man's cock.

A tremor raced up her spin. "Ooooooooggghhhhh."

Wessel grabbed her firm, round rump and started her sliding up and down, bouncing on his cock. They both groaned and gasped, fighting the need to climax right away.

"Oh…My…God!" Brenda cried, baby blues wide and disbelieving. "It is too much…too good….Ooohh, mercy!"

"No mercy," he said, and made her bounce faster.

"I can't….Aaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" she cried, consumed in an incredible climax. "Great Liberty! It's is too much. Aaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiieeeeeeee! Oh! Aaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee!"

"Yes!" Wessel cried, and shot his load into her pussy.

"Aaaaaaiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!" she cried, climaxing around his convulsing, spurting cock.

To her surprise and shock, Wessel pushed her off his cock. She was turned around and forced to sit back down on his lap, her back to him. Unfortunately and unexpectedly for her, his cock went straight up her poop chute.

"Yyeeeeeeeeooooooooooowwwwwww!" she cried, back arched and eyes wide in pain and shock. "You are sodomizing me! This is taboo! Forbidden! Uuuugghhh."

"Yes, the sweetest taboo, anal sex," Wessel whispered in her ear. "I knew you would like it, so that is why I had to have it."

"You are a monster," she groaned, now forced to bounce up and down on his shaft again.

While she slid up and down on his cock, fucking herself into oblivion, Wessel reached around her spectacular body and began mauling her 44DDs again. He loved those giant tits.

Brenda couldn't believe it. Within moments of being anally impaled, the pain was gone and replaced by intense pleasure. She was quickly building toward another orgasm. It was beyond belief she could enjoy that darkest of sex acts so much.

<Great Liberty, I AM a whore,> she thought dismally. <Are Wessel and all those other men right? Am I a naturally born slut?>

As if to answer her, Brenda lost control of her raging hormones, lost her self-control and the monster was unleashed. Her back arched and she threw back her head, baby blues wide in realization. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I'm TAMED! I can't believe it, The Weasel has tamed me. Aaaaaaaaaauiiiiiiiieeeeee!"

The aforementioned Weasel fucked her ass another ten minutes, ripping out another twelve climaxes, before he finally nutted and creamed her ass. Once again, she found herself on her knees between his knees, and licking him clean. That led to a blow job, and she got another mouthful of creamy cum.

"I love Viagra," he said, and chuckled. "Thanks, babe. That was the best sex of my life. Or at least the most personally satisfying sex I've ever had. Lydia actually gives much better head, by the way."

Wessel forced her to call home. It broke her heart to tell Lydia Wessel was blackmailing her now, and that Lydia had to hurry up and get to work at the House of Joy. There would be no cavalry coming to the rescue for them. They were both whores now.

Brenda was ordered back into her dress. Wessel kept her panties as a souvenir. Then he took her to his car, and drove to Sugar Town. All too soon, Brenda was standing outside of a hooker hotel with a key in hand. Room 69. Go figure.

"Start turning tricks, my billion dollar babe," Wessel said.

"What? Don't tell me that YOU are going to personally pimp me out," she cried.

"Yes I am. I want the pleasure of personally destroying you. I don't want to share this honor, this pleasure, with anyone," he said. "Now get to work. I'll be watching you."

Wessel went into the hotel, leaving her gawking after him. After a moment she heard a brief honk, and turned to find an eager eyed man staring at her tits.

"I'm looking for a good time, baby."

"You…," she started, choking on the words. Brenda took a deep breath, and continued. "Are you looking for a d-date?"

"Yeah, a date," he said, nodding. His eyes never left her tits.

"How much do you have to spend?"

"Fifty."

"You'll need extra for a room," she said. She had a room, but the john always paid full price for the room, so the hooker (or pimp) could split it with the hotel. Everyone made lots of money off her misery and humiliation. "You got another twenty for that?"

"You betcha," he said. "This isn't my first trip down here."

"You got yourself a date, honey."

While Brenda was leading her first john to her room, Wessel was settling down behind a desk in a back room. He smiled as he punched up Room 69's audio/visual recording equipment. In short order Brenda led a young dark haired man into the room. As commanded, she didn't ask for or accept the money until behind closed doors.

Wessel smiled victoriously as he watched the great Brenda Wade strip and fuck a common john. Then she proceeded to bring man after man after man into that room, accept money for sex and have said sex. Some of it was kinky sex, which she charged extra for, too. She was proving to be a great hooker, with a natural ability to haggle the highest price from her johns if they wanted anything other than standard fare -- suck and fuck.

"God, this is perfect," Wessel said. "I finally nailed Brenda Wade, and her sexy little blonde ward. And now I have enough to retire in luxury, thanks to Brenda's supreme -- no SUPERIOR -- stupidity and arrogance."

Wessel was being forced to retire in three months. His superiors in the department were tired of constantly defending him. And his supporters outside and inside the department didn't seem inclined to help him. But it didn't matter now, he'd made his big score. In three months, as expected, he would accept his gold watch and pension, and retire to a tropical island.

By nightfall, Wessel had three tapes worth of Brenda Wade prostituting herself. He printed up a few stills, and collected his prize whore.

"Time to put that final nail in your coffin, Brenda," he said, as they drove deeper into Sugar Town.

"What? What do you mean?" she said, wild-eyed. They were not heading towards Mistress Tabitha's House of Joy. Her next thought, he would sell her to King Pimp and she's end her days whoring deep inside Delta City's largest cathouse, The Palace. But then he detoured away from that path. "Where are you taking me?"

"The corner of Anita and Cox," he said. "I've arranged to sell you to a street pimp in the worse part of Sugar Town."

As promised, Brenda Wade was delivered into the hands of a street pimp. But it wasn't just any street pimp. Wessel sold her to Angelique, a gorgeous redheaded former hooker. As Ms Americana, she'd tossed Angelique in jail a dozen times both as a hooker, and as a pimp. She was known to be tough on her girls, and to have actually captured, tamed and pimped out super heroines.

First thing, while Wessel watched with a big shit eating grin spread across his ugly face, Angelique had two of her bodyguards hold Brenda tight. Then she beat up the beautiful billionaire. Beat her into submission.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Angelique asked.

"Yes, mistress!"

"Are you going to work real hard fucking for me?"

"Yes, mistress!"

"Good," Angelique said. She pointed at the intersection. "You work from here to the intersection." She indicated a hooker hotel on the corner. "Take your johns to that hotel and tell them you are my new girl. You can fuck them in their cars, if they just won't pop for a room, but get them in there if at all possible."

"Yes, mistress," Brenda said, and hurried away with fear filled eyes.

With that, Brenda began a long and profitable career as a not so common streetwalker.

THE END