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.

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MS AMERICANA: BAD GIRLS

By Dark One

The Queen of Justice shook her fabulously maned head woefully. Even after a month long purge of pimps, she still found them out plying their illicit trade in human flesh. In the last month she’d put forty-five pimps in jail. True, of the forty-five some three-quarters were back out within twenty-four hours. Out on bail. She had high hopes that Delta City juries and notoriously liberal judges would finally put them in prison, where they belonged. But those trials were months, even years, away.

But at least most of the pimps she had sent to jail were staying off the streets.

For now.

“Filthy pimps are the vilest men alive,” she said. They would all be back on the streets, forcing pretty young women to whore themselves to sate their insatiable need to dominate and humiliate women. As a Superior Woman, indeed as Delta City’s premier Superior Woman, Ms Americana understood it was her job to fight them, and ultimately defeat them. “I will not suffer their presence in Delta City any longer.”

Tonight’s target -- Mr. Cocks. He was as arrogant as they got, working a dozen girls on the south side of Sugar Town. With so many pimps leaving town due to her activities, the small timers were able to add more girls to their stables and become bigger players. Tonight, she would make Mr. Cocks cash in his chips and leave town, or suffer her wrath.

If the pimps were vile, the hookers were disgusting to the extreme. It sickened her how they bartered their beautiful bodies for a pittance. They could be doctors or lawyers, nurses or corporate executives. Instead, they sold their souls to pimps and did their bidding pathetically. It was impossible to contemplate how a woman could willingly spread her legs for the illicit pleasure of foul men for mere money. The thought was too depraved to believe. The thought of a man inside HER, ejaculating within the sacredness of her body, sent a shiver of distaste up her spine as she crinkled her nose.

Mr. Cocks’ stable was hard at “work” before her, just a block away. They walked their intersection, three to a corner. Sometimes they strutted saucily up and down that street, to entice men into their skanky beds. His stable comprised a dozen beautiful young women-- blondes, brunettes, redhead, Asian, Black and Hispanic -- all appearing to be quite happy to debauch themselves for that damnable pimp. He sat on the front passenger bumper of his charcoal gray Cadillac, collecting his share of the take after the girls returned from their tricks.

She had done her research. Mr. Cocks was six foot eight, heavily muscled and tough as nails. His birth name was Randolph Cox. He was particularly vicious as pimps went, having been arrested a dozen times just for battery against his girls, and not counting his brutal attacks on johns that pissed off him or one of his girls.

Ms Americana grinned and hit the gas. Gunning her powerful engine, her red, white and blue car leapt out of the dark and came to a screeching halt just inches behind Mr. Cocks’ Cadillac. Within seconds she was out of that car and literally charging over the top of Mr. Cocks’ car. Then she launched herself off his hood, did a flip in midair and landed before him, stunning him speechless.

Ms Americana assumed a super heroine pose before the notorious pimp: shoulders squared, hands hanging loosely by her hips, ready for anything, while her booted feet were shoulder width apart and one leg thrust forward a bit, with a hip thrust out as well. She was quiet a sight to behold, and knew it all too well. As the Queen of Justice, she wore a golden tiara above her blue, star-spangled mask. Her world famous costume including a red, white and blue bikini, the top strapless and trimmed in gold and bottoms cut to show off her well rounded hips. She wore red gauntlet gloves, and red stiletto boots with a white stripe up the front and around the top. She accessorized with a blue choker and red star earrings. And, last but not least, the golden power belt around her narrow waist, resting upon her womanly hips.

“Halt, pimp!” Ms Americana called in her most commanding voice. Her Ms Americana voice was a full octave lower than her normal, Brenda Wade, voice. She had to do a lot to keep her secret identity a secret. It wasn’t easy. “You’re under arrest for pandering.”

“Ms Americana!” he cried, all but falling off his perch. Then he glanced back at her car, then his eyes turned toward the roof and hood of his Cadillac. “Bitch! You scratched and dented my car!”

“Your car’s finish is the least of your concerns, miscreant,” she growled. “I warned all pimps to leave Delta City, or suffer my wrath. You failed to heed my fair warning, so it is time to pay for your audacity.”

“What? Must you be so wordy?” he said, snarling at her. “If you wanna fight, just say so. All that womanly YAMMERING is a waste of my time.”

The pimp’s girls all cried out and came running. At least the eight on the street corners at the time. They were all hurling abuse and threats at the sexy super heroine, but keeping their distance all the same. Up close, she realized they were a prettier bunch than most in Sugar Town.

“Submit, pimp,” Ms Americana demanded. “Because there is nothing on Earth going to stop me from sending you to jail tonight.”

“No, YOU submit, Ameri-bitch,” Mr. Cocks said, eyes flashing brown fire. “Mr. Cocks don’t submit to no one, especially not to some half-naked bikini bimbo with delusions of grandeur.”

Ms Americana cocked her head to one side as she regarded the defiant pimp.

“You’re not very bright, are you?”

“Smarter, meaner and TOUGHER than you,” he declared and sent a roundhouse at her head.

Ms Americana easily sidestepped that vicious kick. She smiled, secretly pleased she would be able to beat the bloody snot out of yet another pimp. It was proving to be the most satisfying part of cleaning out the red light district of Sugar Town so far.

Mr. Cocks was a big, strong, INDOMITABLE man, too. He had never submitted to anyone in his twenty-eight years. From a young age he had dominated his friends and enemies, and especially women. He probably wasn’t capable -- yet -- of submitting to a mere woman. Ms Americana was eager to teach him a more submission role in society.

When his kick missed, Mr. Cocks continued to spin and tried to backhand Ms Americana. She was ready for that move, too. The super sexy super heroine caught his wrist and used his own momentum to throw him over her hip, to be left sprawled at her booted feet.

“Nice trick, pimp, want to try again?”

He lunged away from her. She paused, since a move away wasn’t a threat. But he seized a large stone and spun to his back, throwing the rock at her face with considerable strength and accuracy. Her power belt made her stronger and faster than normal, so she was able to duck, but not enough. The stone hit her squarely on the red star on her tiara. The tiara saved her, in a way, but didn’t completely protect her head from the impact. The mighty Queen of Justice staggered back a step.

“Gotcha!” Mr. Cocks cried, leaping to his feet and charging her.

That rock would’ve taken a normal man down to a knee, and would’ve left a mere woman sprawled on the sidewalk, but she was a superior woman. She was ready for the pimp when he arrived, ducking under his right cross to pound two punches into his unprotected ribs. But with a scream of pain and rage, Mr. Cocks lashed out as he hurled past her and he caught her bikini top, right between her titanic tits. They snapped open and flew off her, letting her titanic titties drop and bounced nakedly before one and all.

“Aaahhhhhhh, you misbegotten bastard!” Ms Americana cried, baby blue eyes flashing indignation and rage. “How dare you strip my breasts!”

Mr. Cocks stared at her bouncing 44DDs a long second, then looked at the strapless bikini top in his hand. He didn’t even recall doing it, but was very pleased he did. Then he dangled the large-cupped top before her outraged blue gaze.

“Looking for this, Ameri-topless?”

Ms Americana rushed him, both hands extended to recover her missing piece of costume. Suddenly, he dropped low like he could dodge either way. She dropped low, feet wide, prepared to dash either direction to cut him off as she moved in closer and closer. As she moved in fast, her back and forth motion was causing her titanic tits to bounce enticingly before the pimps’ big round eyes. She smiled knowingly, for she had him distracted and had all but won the contest. Then he threw the top straight up.

Ms Americana’s eyes followed the top up. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what he wanted. He stepped forward and KICKED her right between the legs.

“Eekks!” she cried, knees snapping together, leaving her awkward and off balance. Both red gloved hands dropped to cup the injured body part. “Oooh.”

It was an incredible pain searing her soul. So intense she couldn’t move, even though she saw him step up, fist back to punch her. And punch her he did. Right between the eyes.

Ms Americana fell straight back. But to his surprise she rolled back to her feet. She was a bit wobbly atop her sky high heels, and she looked a bit pale, but she came straight up to her feet again, assuming a fighting stance. But it was a defensive stance.

“So the great Ms Americana can be hurt,” he said, very pleased. “By the way, nice tits.”

Ms Americana glanced down at her nudity, her arms coming up to cross before her naked breasts. At the same time, he rushed in and punched her in the belly.

“Oooff!”

Then her knee came up, connecting with his balls. Mr. Cocks dropped to his knees and retched. Ms Americana stepped away and shook it off, <Great Liberty, thank you for my power belt and the enhanced healing it provides,> then assumed her super heroine pose of earlier.

“Had enough?” Ms Americana said, smug in her victory.

He was barely able to drag himself up to his feet by using the bumper of the pickup parked in front of his car. She reached for his collar, intending to drag him over to her car, so she could call the police. Then she saw his big hand grab the pickup’s antenna and break it off like it was nothing.

“No,” he snarled and turned on her.

Before she realized the threat, Mr. Cocks brought the antenna down across her naked tits -- CRACK! Pain the likes she’d never experienced ripped through her body.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeee!”

She turned and tried to run. But he was too fast.

CRACK! across her near naked buttocks.

“Yeeooowww!”

CRACK! across her belly as she instinctively spun around to protect that part of her body under attack.

CRACK! across her tits, and across both nipples this time.

“Yeeyeeooooewww!”

CRACK! across her lower back, then CRACK! across her shoulders as she dropped to her knees.

“MERCY!”

Stepping in front of her, Mr. Cocks dropped the antenna and pulled his nine millimeter pistol. He knew her power belt protected her against bullets, but not against every threat a gun had.

Ms Americana was pistol whipped into oblivion on the streets of Sugar Town as hookers and johns cheered him on. Once she was unconscious, he holstered the pistol and rolled her onto her belly. Seconds later her power belt was removed and tossed into the back seat of his Cadillac.

“Let the victory celebration begin,” Mr. Cocks called, and lifted Ms Americana’s unconscious body in his arms.

Carrying her to the hood of his car, he dumped her there, her legs dangling off the side. The pimp thought of his carnal pleasure first and foremost, so removed her bikini bottoms and tossed them aside. Then he spread her mile long legs and buried his face in her monster tits.

Ms Americana woke to find her body afire with passions. A fire to match the welts left by the antenna whipping she received, and her own burning humiliation at being defeated in a street fight by a filthy pimp. Seconds after regaining consciousness she discovered two things: Mr. Cocks was molesting her and he had removed her power belt.

“Get off me,” she groaned, trying to shove him away unsuccessfully. “I’m a super heroine, not one of your hooker sluts to be mauled and sexually abused at will.”

“Not true, you are one of my hooker sluts NOW,” Mr. Cocks said.

“I will NEVER be one of your hookers,” she sneered. “You cannot make me whore myself.”

“Yes I can. And I will, too.”

“You and what army?”

“This army,” he said, reaching down to heft his ten inch, erect cock. “Looks to be about…” he pressed it against her pussy, penetrating past her swollen pussy lips, “…ten divisions.”

“Don’t touch me with that -- aaaaaahhhhhhhhh,” she cried, then groaned. Her eyes widened as he pushed in, deeper and deeper, spreading her so wide she thought he would split her in half. “Uuuunnnnnnn!”

Ms Americana’s back arched painfully high as her gloved hands clawed at the Cadillac’s hood. A frightening tingly warmth infused her pussy and lower belly, with butterflies fluttering in her stomach and all strength bleeding from her limbs. She’d never felt so weak, so helpless in her life. And she never felt so alive. Sex was her Achilles Heel, and she knew it. The sexy super heroine had to stop him before she climaxed, or she was a goner.

“She liked that, Mr. Cocks,” Yvette said. The gorgeous thirty year old redhead licked her lips as she watched his cock pump in and out of the vanquished vigilante. “I never doubted you’d win, baby.”

“She’s so beautiful,” blonde, blue-eyed Tessie said as the rest of his girls gathered around to watch raptly. “Look at the expression on her face. That’s how I felt the first time you fucked me, too. It was great.”

Ms Americana barely heard the two whores talking. All she cared about was that monster cock beating her self-control and will-power into dust. It had been so long since she’d last had intercourse she’d forgotten what it felt like. The pain of being stretched impossibly wide quickly passed, followed by equally intense feelings of carnal pleasure she was not equipped to defend against.

“This is ….ugh….unnatural,” she groaned. In the natural order women controlled all aspects of sexual intercourse. They decided when, where, how. He was violating the natural order of society and nature. “Great Liberty! Oh!,,,You must STOP for the love of Liberty and Justice! I am the Queen of Justice, not a simpering whore.”

“I’m really getting tired of Miss High and Mighty talking us down,” Tera Tran said. The four foot ten inch Vietnamese hooker gave Ms Americana an evil look.

The sexually stunned super heroine ground her teeth, trying to fight the erotic heat deep in her belly that threatened to explode into a powerful climax. A climax that could end her crime fighting career. But the more she fought it, the more intense it seemed to become. Slowly building and building into an ugly monster eager to consume her body and soul.

“I will not be TAMED!” she cried.

She reached for Mr. Cocks’ face, hands like claws to rake and gouge at face and eyes and mouth. But he caught her wrists in vicelike grips and slammed her hands back to the car hood, trapping her between his extended hands. She struggled pathetically, even while his insatiable cock hammered her pussy unmercifully.

“Ooooh, pleeeassse,” she groaned.

Her body started building toward climax. Baby blues wide, she struggled to suppress her body’s natural need to release pent up sexual tension. It was that sexual tension, built up over years of self-denial that fueled her power belt. A climax would release some sexual tension, stealing away super strength. Enough climaxes, or a really big one, could deplete her so badly her power belt wouldn’t give her anything.

The poor super heroine was so desperate, so sexually aroused, she was half mad. Her head started rocking back and forth, flinging luxurious silky black hair all over, while her hips gyrated and ground into his cock, and her stiletto heeled feet kicked and beat a tattoo on the side of Mr. Cocks’ Cadillac.

She felt her cunt start to tremble, then quiver. The pimp started pumping erratically, gasping for breath, and she felt his dick get even harder and larger, pounding into her even harder and more desperately. Then her pussy started to spasm around that invaded cock.

“I can’t….stooop…iiittt!” she cried. And the orgasm exploded. “Aaaaaaaieeeeeeee! Great Liberty! Uuuuuggggghhhhhhhhh!”

“I defeated Ms Americana!” he cried, and lost his battle.

She groaned and climaxed again when she felt him cumming deep inside her. He shot three thick wads inside of her, then pulled out. Mr. Cocks grabbed one of her hands and wrapped it around his throbbing cock, making her start to stroke it. Seconds later he started fountaining more thick globlets of milky cum, raining down on the groaning super heroine from ruby lips, down her slender neck and splattered all over her jiggling 44DDs and finally across her rock hard abs. Ms Americana jerked him off until the gusher went dry.

“See that? I TAMED Ms Americana!” Mr. Cocks cried to the Heavens.

“Really?” Ms Americana said, still panting. Then she leveled angry blue eyes at him. “Does this feel like victory to you?”

Before Mr. Cocks could react Ms Americana seized his nuts and squeezed. His huge, muscular body froze. Then she TWISTED with all her strength, cursing the fact she had no super strength to really injure him where it hurt the most.

“Eeeeeeiiiiiiiioooooooooouuuuuuuuuuwwwwwwwwww!” he cried, paralyzed by the unexpected and intense pain.

The Queen of Justice lifted her booted feet to his chest, and KICKED him straight back into the brick wall behind. The assembled whores screamed and scattered. She rolled up and off the Cadillac, and raced straight at Mr. Cocks, vengeance burning blue fire in her eyes.

She reached the pimp just as he bounced off the brick wall, still stunned. Ms Americana kicked straight up into his chin, knocking the huge pimp unconscious. For a moment she just stood over him, chest heaving and glared down at the hated pimp. Remembering how he touched her intimately. How he…..did an unspeakable thing to her. Then she noticed some of his girls were still around, but looking worried and fidgety.

“RUN!” she cried, and stomped her booted right foot. Her tits jounced about due to the force of the impact, but the whores turned and ran away as expected. “Good riddance.”

Ms Americana didn’t notice them starting to creep back as she marched over to the pimp’s Cadillac and pull out her power belt. It felt real good to have it around her waist again, even if it didn’t provide her any super power after being fucked and forced climaxed. Then she picked up her bikini and put it back on real quick.

Going to her car, she reached in and took out a cell phone. Pushing speed dial, she glanced around as she waited for the Police to pick up. She scowled when she spotted the pimp’s girls creeping back warily.

“9-1-1 operator, what is your emergency?”

“This is Ms Americana,” she said in her best super heroine voice. “I’ve captured another pimp. Mr. Cocks, A.K.A Randolph Cox, to be exact. Send a squad car to the intersection of 69^th and Headwick to pick him up.”

“Will do, Ms Americana,” the operator stated professionally. But she was a woman, so Ms Americana expected no less. “They are on the way.”

“This ain’t right,” Tessa cried. The beautiful blonde hooker glared at Ms Americana, then looked longingly at Mr. Cocks. “Why do you keep sticking your nose in everyone else’s business? We aren't hurting no one.”

“Men like Mr. Cocks are a blight on society,” Ms Americana said. Then with a look of utter distaste, “And women like you are a blight upon womanhood. You disgrace us all. By whoring yourselves, you perpetuate the myth of female inferiority. You make us look weak and of no use except as sex toys. You disgust me.”

“Breaks my heart,” Helene Stephanopolis, a fiery dark haired, dark eyed hooker of Greek ancestry, said. “If you didn’t have that power belt….oh, the Police.”

The hookers all became subdued. Then they began easing away. Ms Americana smiled smugly. Inferior women. So pathetic. By the time the police car stopped and the two cops got out, the whores were no where to be seen.

“Good evening, Officers,” Ms Americana said, striking a super heroine pose. “As you can see, I once again fulfilled my promise to the Mayor and good citizens of Delta City, and captured this filthy pimp out pandering. Take him away. I’ll be by the station later to swear out a statement.”

“Well done, Ms Americana,” one cop said, and they dragged him to the car.

Moments later, the squad car was gone, and the pimp with them.

“Still early enough to take out another pimp,” Ms Americana said, grinning.

“One of these days you’ll get yours, Ms Americana,” a woman said behind her.

Ms Americana glanced over her shoulder to see Mr. Cocks’ whores had reassembled. They were just begging for a bruising. That bevy of beauties was seething.

“I suggest you ladies…er…women, find a new line of work,” Ms Americana sneered. “Mr. Cocks and his evil ilk are an endangered species thanks to me. I personally will take them all down, and will see to it they are sent away for a long time.”

“How dare you!” Tera Tran cried. The little spitfire earned a sharp look from the Queen of Justice. She was only four ten, so no real threat to a normal sized woman, much less to a superior woman like Ms Americana. “You damn holier-than-thou types don’t understand anything. You just waltz in, ruin peoples lives and leave, patting yourselves on the back the whole time.”

Tera spat on Ms Americana’s boots.

Ms Americana froze, totally incensed. She felt her face burning, but she couldn’t really do anything to that pretty little thing, so tiny she was like a porcelain doll. Hooker or not, the good citizens didn’t tolerate bigger, stronger people beating the weak. No matter the outrage.

“Damn bikini whore ain’t no better than us,” Jezzelle said. The African-American hooker was as tall and statuesque as a super heroine, making Ms Americana wonder if she had the Aphrodite Gene, too. Either way, she had chosen a life of crime and debauchery. “Take that belt off, Sister, and we’ll see how tough you really are.”

“More than a match for you,” Ms Americana said, baby blues narrowing dangerously. The hookers didn't realize she was completely de-powered. In their feeble minds only a super powered woman could defeat their beloved pimp. “You women try my patience. I suggest you leave before my good mood is worn out and I haul all of your butts into jail, too.”

With that, Ms Americana turned on a heel and started to march around her car. If she hurried, she might catch another pimp she was looking for, Kid Rotten. But Jezzelle had another idea, and grabbed her left upper arm.

“Don’t dismiss me, bitch!” Jezzelle cried.

Ms Americana spun around and swept Jezzelle’s feet out from under her. Tera spat on her again.

“You’ll pay for that outrage,” Ms Americana declared and grabbed the tiny Vietnamese hooker.

“Let go! Let go of me, you big bully!” Tera cried, then slapped Ms Americana across the face.

“How dare YOU!” Ms Americana cried and slapped her across the face. With considerable more force.

Tera staggered. Only the sexy super heroine’s grip on her upper arm kept the pint-sized whore on her stiletto heeled feet. Then she looked around at all the other hookers, many of which looked suddenly terrified and ready to bolt.

“Bitch,” Tera snarled, and yanked off Ms Americana’s top again.

Then she dug her long red nails into the super heroine’s 44DDs.

“Yeeeeeeeeooooooooow!” she cried. “Let…go!”

“Okay, Ms Ameri-slut,” Tera snarled, and released Ms Americana’s tits.

The grateful super heroine released Tera’s arm to use both hands to massage her brutalized tits. Mr. Cocks had stolen her super strength and the healing powers of her power belt by forcing her to climax so powerfully. Without the power belt she felt pain more acutely, and didn’t heal as quickly. The hookers didn’t know it, but she wasn’t any more super powered than they were at that moment. Then she realized Tera wasn’t running away, but staying in the fight.

“You are a bad, bad woman,” Tera said, and kicked Ms Americana straight up in her twat. The pointy toe of her stiletto pumps struck the stunned super heroine square on her hyper sensitive, previously aroused clit. The pain was indescribable for the previously undefeated vigilante vixen.

“Uuugghh,” Ms Americana cried, knees snapping together once again and strength fleeing her curvaceous body.

Jezzelle seized her long black hair from behind and jerked Ms Americana straight back. The super heroine grunted as her shapely rump smashed into the side of her own car. Jezzelle punched her in the face, stunning the desperate beauty momentarily. Helene stepped up and karate-chopped her in the neck, and Ms Americana slid off the car to land on her knees before them, both hands clutching at her brutalized throat.

“Eee-oooww,” Ms Americana cried. “Stop!”

Rosalyn and Tessie stepped up next. They both seized her silky hair and pulled the helpless heroine to her wobbly feet. Then they smiled wickedly at each other, then at the brick wall.

“Let’s go for it,” Tessie all but giggled.

“Let’s,” Rosalyn said.

“No. Please,” Ms Americana said, seeing their intent.

The topless, battered and weakened super heroine tried to push the two hookers away, but they jerked her forward, getting her off-balance, then charged toward the brick wall. Ms Americana screamed as they ran her head first at the brutal, unforgiving wall.

“Nooooooooooooo -- UGH!” she cried, slamming face first into the wall. Ms Americana bounced off the wall, took one staggering step, then another, and fell face first at Tessie’s feet. “Uuuuuggghhheeeeeooooo.”

Seconds later the two hookers pulled the Queen of Justice to her knees. Tera stepped before her, looking vicious and triumphant. Jezzelle was looking over the pint-sized hooker’s left shoulder, and Helene over the right. Ms Americana had never seen hookers looking more pleased with themselves.

And too her horror, the little hooker reached down and ripped off her blue, star-spangled mask. “How do you like that!”

“Great Liberty, you unmasked me!”

Ms Americana’s hands leapt up to cover her face. The stunned hookers didn’t get a good look. Not even Tera. So she tried to stumble to her feet, to get to her car and leave. But Tera grabbed one of her tits and held on tightly. Then Rosalyn grabbed a fistful of silky black hair and jerked her head back. Her silky hair immediately fell back, revealing her hands covering her face.

“NO!” Ms Americana cried in her best super heroine voice, to no avail. The happy hookers were not letting go. She felt two sets of feminine hands seize her wrists and start pulling. “Stop it! You’ll destroy me!”

“You mean, like you are trying to destroy us?” Tessa said.

“No, I’m trying to HELP you, trying to get you into honest jobs and back into main line society,” Ms Americana called, just before her hands were pulled away to reveal her stunningly beautiful, and quite recognizable face. “Great Liberty! Nooooooooo!”

“Hot damn!” Tera cried.

“Holy Shit!” Jezzelle cried.

“Brenda Fucking Wade?” Helene said, stunned. Then she caught Ms Americana’s eyes and grinned smugly. “We own you now, Wade. We….own….YOU.”

“No, you can’t. I’m the Queen of Justice. I’m Ms Americana, the role model of millions of young impressionable girls and women,” she said, near hysterical. “You mustn’t destroy me. You have to keep my secret. For your fellow women’s sake.”

“Oh, we’ll keep your secret,” Jezzelle said.

“Really?” Ms Americana said, hope blooming. “You really will?”

“Of course,” Jezzelle said. She indicated all the other hookers, none of which looked too pleased by the path the conversation was going. Tera looked absolutely stunned. “We’re all sisters. Right?”

“Right! Sisters.”

“And we’re all friends, right?”

“That’s right, we’re all friends here.”

“And we all work for Mr. Cocks, as his hookers, you included, right?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, to buy our silence, you have to start working for Mr. Cocks,” Jezzelle said, grinning smugly.

“Yes! You are a genius, Jezzelle,” Tera said. “Put her big ass to work hooking. Let her see what we go through. Make her BE one of US.”

Ms Americana found herself kneeling on the sidewalk, surrounded by twelve hostile hookers. Each one of them had been arrested by her at least once. Most even got roughed up a bit. If she wasn’t careful, this could get even uglier. And they were right, they knew her secret identity, so they OWNED her.

“I can’t prostitute myself. I’m a superior woman, so I am not capable of debasing myself so thoroughly,” Ms Americana said rationally. Surely they would understand.

“Bullshit,” Jezzelle said. “We all saw your ass squirming, panting and kicking with pure pleasure while Mr. Cocks fucked you on the car. You’re a born whore.”

“You’re a bigger whore than any of us,” Tera said. “We don’t enjoy sex that much. Except for Jezzelle, of course.”

They all laughed at that. Jezzelle just leered at Ms Americana and waggled her eyebrows smugly. Ms Americana tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it wasn’t budging.

Ms Americana was horrified. She was being raped at the time by the pimp. That was no time to judge her libido. And who were they to pass judgment on her?

“In fact, next john that drives up you will take him to have a good time, or we all scatter to the winds shouting your true identity. There are people who want vengeance on you so bad that you’ll be dead before sunrise,” another hooker, Vivienne Picard, said. The blonde, blue-eyed beauty gave her the smuggest, most “I got you over a barrel” look Ms Americana had ever seen. “Here comes a car, Ameri-whore. Choose now. Live whore or dead super heroine?”

“You monsters! How could you?” she cried, horrified as she glanced at the approaching car. “I can’t handle sex. I’m ABOVE sex as a super heroine. If I debase myself, allow you to prostitute me off like a cheap whore, I will be destroyed. You saw me with Mr. Cocks, I can’t handle it. I’ll be ruined, destroyed.”

Mr. Cocks' girls looked unfazed. Indeed, her outburst brought smiles of satisfaction to all of their comely faces.

“Decide,” Jezzelle said, cutting a look at the slow cruising car approaching.

“Whore or heroine?” Tera demanded. “Dead or alive? You’re time is almost up.”

An hour earlier, Ms Americana would’ve sneered contemptuously at the very thought of willingly whoring herself just to save her miserable life. Super heroines would rather die fighting for truth and justice than allow themselves to be debased and debauched. But now, on her knees before merciless hookers who knew her true identity, she knelt all a-tremble.

Ms Americana glanced at the approaching john. Butterflies erupted in her stomach. That liquid heat she’d felt while being fucked by Mr. Cocks started burning again in her pussy, radiating treacherous pleasure throughout her shapely body. The lump in her throat tightened and it became harder to swallow.

“The moment of TRUTH is upon you, Ms Americana,” Jezzelle sneered. “Time to make your decision, Brenda Wade. Are you a skanky whore like us? Or a noble super heroine, prepared to die for your vaulted honor?”

Tera pulled out a cell phone and flipped it open. Ms Americana’s stared at it wide-eyed.

“I know a Sambino Family man, a mobster, who's a good client of mine,” the Vietnamese hooker said, dark eyes blazing. “I have him on speed dial. Shall I call him?”

“Give me my mask! Quick, you stinking whore bitches,” Ms Americana cried, and snatched it out of Tera’s hand. The sexy super heroine then pressed the blue, star-spangled mask to her lovely face. Then she stood up, put on her bikini top and walked to the curb. After a seething glance of pure hatred at the hookers, she turned to the car and waved. “Heh, mister! You looking for a good time?”

The car stopped and she squatted beside the passenger door as the window lowered. Inside was an overweight middle-aged middle management type. She recognized him as one of Wade Industries' employees, an accountant. He was unremarkable as an employee since she couldn't recall his name, and just as unremarkable as a man, from what she could see. But he scared her at that moment by the way he looked so hungrily at her tits.

<Don’t think about it,> she thought as she forced a smile on her face. <Just do it.>

“I might be interested,” he said. “How much?”

Ms Americana hesitated. How much did they charge? What was expected? Did the most beautiful demand the highest prices?

“Fifty,” Jezzelle muttered.

“Fifty dollars,” Ms Americana said. He frowned, hesitating. “And I’m cheap for that, too. Best lay in the city.”

“Damn, I can’t pass you up,” he said. “Your costume is perfect. You look exactly like the real Ms Americana, so I have to fuck you. Fifty it is. Get on in, babe.”

Ms Americana slipped into the car. Tera eased up close and whispered, “Take him to the High Times Hotel. Mr. Cocks got a deal with the owner.”

“Up one block and take a right,” Ms Americana said.

She directed him to one of the most disrespectable hooker hotels in the city. She’d been there many times, rousting the hookers and johns. Had quite a few battles with pimps there, too. Yes, she had quite a history at that establishment.

The john rented a room and within minutes Ms Americana found herself standing before the fat business man, who was sitting on the small bed and taking off his shoes. Of course, he couldn't tear his eyes off of her 44DDs.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked when she didn't start stripping. Then he smiled, "Oh, yeah. The money. You whores have to be paid first."

Ms Americana didn't think the pudgy middle manager looked evil. In fact, he kinda looked gullible and nervous. So she took a chance.

"I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, good citizen," she said in her most impressive super heroine voice, striking a super heroine pose before him. "A group of hookers surprised me and pulled off my mask. Now they are blackmailing me into performing this act of prostitution."

"You're the REAL Ms Americana?" he said, gaping at her slack-jawed.

"Of course," she said. She frowned at him. "I suggest we sit in here long enough to make it look like we actually had sex for money, then leave. If anyone asks you if we had sex for money, say yes."

He looked at her tits intensely and licked his lips nervously. "But I have to give you fifty for nothing?"

Ms Americana groaned. Mr. Cocks' girl would expect her to return with fifty dollars. No money, no sex. They knew the drill.

"I will see to it your money is returned. With interest and a bonus to show my appreciation."

"I'd rather just fuck you for fifty dollars."

"What? Don't you understand, I am the REAL Ms Americana, not some sleazy whore dressed up like me," she said, almost dumbstruck. Surely no good, honest man would still want to have illicit sex with her once he knew the truth? But then she saw the pure lust that consumed his pudgy face as he stared at her 44DDs. "Oh, you disgusting, perverted bastard! You want to make love to me."

"No, I want to FUCK you," he corrected and leered at her. "And if you really are being blackmailed, then you have no choice but to fuck me. Or I'll make sure everyone knows you refuse to perform."

The vivacious vixen could only gawk at him a long moment. It was just getting worse and worse. He knew the truth about her, and was demanding sex now.

"Your wife will find out you are seeing prostitutes if you do that."

"So? That frigid bitch can kiss my ass," he said. His eyes flashed. "I'll sacrifice everything to fuck you. Any man would. So shut up, strip and put out." He handed her fifty dollars, and she took it numbly. "There, you are bought and paid for now."

Ms Americana paused to stare at the fifty dollars in her red gloved hand. He was right. She took the money. The hookers would destroy her if she failed to perform as ordered. The Great and Mighty Queen of Justice was about to get fucked for money, and enter the worst hell she could imagine -- the life of a prostitute.

"I see," she managed to say after a long moment.

"Come here," he demanded.

While she was struck dumb, her john had taken the opportunity to strip naked. He sat on the bed before her, his cock hard and standing at attention. He smiled with evil glee and crocked a finger at her, beckoning her to come to him. She signed dramatically, set the money on the small table by the door and walked slowly over to him. He pulled her in close, so that he could press his face against her bikini clad 44DDs.

The sexy super heroine didn't have to do anything. The john deftly unfastened her top and tossed it aside. She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side as she felt her heavy tits drop and jounce enticingly before his awestruck face. The air was cool against her hot, delicate titty flesh. Ms Americana felt her nipples beginning to tingle and harden even before his tongue licked the left and a hand pinched the right nipple.

"Ummm," she groaned, surprised by the intense jolt of pleasure that shot through her shapely body from that first contact with nipple. That jolt flashed straight down through her belly and to her twat. She was horrified to realize her pussy was burning with need and felt extremely moist beneath the bikini bottom. "Oooo."

Her first john took his time rubbing his face in her silky soft tits, all the while squeezing, pinching, caressing and otherwise MAULING her titanic tits. He was obviously in carnal heaven. And worse, she felt her body slowly changing, becoming more and more aroused. After just five minutes she realized she was panting and beginning to sweat.

"Enough," Ms Americana gasped. "You are only paying for a simple fuck. So fuck me, and get it over with."

"True, I only paid for a simple fuck," he said, giving her tits another firm squeeze, then dropping his hands down and around to cup, then squeeze her shapely rump. "But you were foolish enough to tell me the truth. I have POWER over you, Ms Americana, and I fully intend to exploit it to get the best fuck of my life. A SUPER fuck, so to speak." He grinned. "Oh, you claim to be a SUPERIOR woman, so I want SUPERIOR sex."

The sputtering Queen of Justice just stood in shock as he pulled her bikini bottoms down her mile long legs. She stepped out of them without being prompted.

<I have to take charge or this perv will fuck me stupid, then unmask me himself,> she thought. <Then I'll have two masters dominating me.>

Ms Americana moved forward, pressing her massive mammaries into his face. He groaned in unmitigated pleasure as her left hand came up and ran her red gloved fingers through his thinning, gray hair, and pushed his face deeper into her tits. At first his hands rested on her tiny waist, then the left hand slipped around behind her to squeeze and caress her satiny rump while the right dropped down between her legs.

"Aaiiee," she gently cried as his index finger pushed through the wet folds of her pussy and opened her up. It felt like electricity shot through her, and left her body even hotter and more tingly. Butterflies immediately erupted in her belly. "Great Liberty! What are you doing to me?"

The helpless heroine didn't understand why her body was betraying her like that. Was it because she denied herself all sexual comfort and pleasure to fuel her power belt? Was the lack of male companionship to blame? Were all chaste women as helpless against sexual stimulation as she was?

Suddenly, he wrapped both arms around her and hugged her fiercely.

"Uuuunnnmm," she groaned. It felt sooo good. So right.

He turned, forcing her to fall on the bed beside him. In an instant he was atop her, gathering her up in both arms. Her massive tits were squeezed between them, with the john gazing into her baby blues, nose to nose.

"You are so needy," he said, and grinned. "I like it."

With that, he hugged her again. She groaned as intense feelings of right consumed her, battering at her will power. Then her eyes went wide as he cocked his head and pressed his lips into hers. Her full red lips parted and admitted his tongue.

"Mmmmm," she said.

Her legs spread wide and wrapped around his thick waist. She felt his thick prick rubbing wetly against her inner thighs and pussy. His lips slid all over and around her ruby reds, then he sucked on her tongue As he kissed her, Ms Americana felt as if they were being watched, so opened her eyes and glanced at the window. And sure enough, four hookers were grinning back at her. Jezzelle had a camcorder pointed through the window as well.

<My descent into vile debauchery and prostitution recorded for posterity,> she thought bitterly. She had no doubt they recorded her accepting his money and everything. <I am a prostitute. A sleazy whore.>

That silent admission caused something deep inside her to change. The tingle in her groin and belly suddenly turned to liquid heat. Her chest tightened and she felt her nipples harden even more and her pussy juices began to flow.

<Great Liberty, my body WANTS to be a whore!> she thought. <This man, and those horrid whores, are destroying something beautiful and important in the world. ME!> Her eyes hardened a moment as she looked at their too smug faces. <You bitches will live to regret this day.>

She knew she was heads and shoulders above all of Mr. Cocks' whores. From day one she will be his favorite, of that she had no doubt. Especially if she TRIED to be his favorite, and right now she was willing to do ANYTHING to spite those whores forcing her into debauchery.

Breathing hard through her nose while he continued to kiss her deeply, she reached down and guided his cock to her cunt. She was shocked by how sopping wet she'd become. It was more proof that the hookers might be right. A whore at heart.

"Hhuuummmmm," she groaned as he thrust his hips, and drove his thick cock deep inside her most intimate spot.

"Whore," the john sneered. "I knew it. You holier than everyone super bitches strut around in next to nothing, teasing men relentlessly, and proclaiming yourselves to be 'superior' women and above such crass needs as sex and such. You are all just a bunch of frustrated whores."

"Yes," she whispered. "Whores. Mmmm, don't stop."

"Exactly," he sneered and doubled the rate he was hammering his cock into her cunt.

"Yeesss," she breathed.

"I'm your first, aren't I?"

"First john, yes."

"Were you a virgin?"

"No," she gasped. "Oooh. Lost virginity…uhm… Prom date. Ahhh, good."

"Did you fuck your boyfriend a lot?"

"Only once," she admitted. It was a quick suck and fuck, as she recalled. Totally unsatisfactory. He, of course, bragged endlessly about bagging "stuck up" Brenda Wade. She couldn't belittle his performance without appearing like a wanton slut, so had to just drop her head and take the snickering and ribald comments. "Didn't have sex until I was twenty-four. Got drunk. Too drunk and a sleazy man took me to bed. I haven't had sex since, until tonight."

"How long?"

"Ten years last month."

"So I'm only your third lover?"

"No. Fourth," she said. "Pimp fucked me earlier tonight."

"Really? Wow. Why did you fuck him?"

"He raped me," she gasped out. All that talk of sex was firing up her libido even more. "He defeated me in a fight, and then fucked me." She gasped, clutched at his arms and arched her back. "Great Liberty! Oh! Oh, God, he fucked me on the hood of his car, right in front of EVERYONE."

"That explains why you aren't tighter," he said, chuckling.

"Bastard," she growled.

He pulled out and ordered her on all fours atop the bed. Ms Americana cut a quick look at the hookers filming her tryst and complied. He made her grab the headboard and then climbed up behind her.

"Great Liberty, will my abuse never end?" she cried as he mounted her from behind, taking her doggie-style.

The john reached around and started groping her 44DDs with lusty enthusiasm while he humped her. To her surprise, that angle of penetration was even better for HER than missionary. Her libido fired up even more, starting to finally creep toward that final release. Her body remembered the climax Mr. Cocks forced upon her earlier, and it wanted to experience it again.

"I can't let…oh….you climax me," she growled, gritting her teeth. "Must maintain…composure. Must fight these feelings."

"No, must release your inner whore," he said, then swatted her shapely rump.

"Ouch!" she cried. "Stop that. Ouch!"

"Stop fighting it," he demanded, and swatted her rump again.

"Ouch! I have to!"

He bit her ear, then stuck his hot wet tongue into her ear. "Let go. You know you are a whore, so just give up and show me how much of a whore you are."

Her statuesque body fired up at his words. Her libido so wanted to go wild. That climax would feel so wonderful. She knew her body longed for it, needed it. But to give up would only finalize her fall.

"No, must be strong," she groaned, feeling her body building up. It took all of her will power to fight off that life changing climax. If this vile, abusive, repulsive man made her climax, then it would be proof positive that she was a whore at heart. A born whore. "I will not allow myself to be tamed. I'm only here to pay blackmail. I do…not…enjoy…THIS!"

"Really? I disagree," he said. "Let's put this puppy to bed, sweetheart."

His right hand dropped off her tit and down to her clit. Her baby blue grew wide as he began massaging her engorged clit. Within seconds she was bucking and gasping in astonishment. That heady feeling of erotic heat was changing, and soon erupted deep in her belly.

"Great Liberty! NO!" she cried, fighting the impending climax with crumbling will power. Then it pushed over the top and rushed down towards a monster climax. "Oh! Great…uh-Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Yes!" he cried, over excited and suddenly started shooting his wad deep inside the Queen of Justice. "I climaxed Ms Americana! I TAMED her!"

"Aaaaaaiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!" she cried, realizing the truth in his words. "Great Liberty, I've been TAMED!"

"Damn, this has been the best fuck ever," the john said, panting now. "I may have to become one of your regulars, Ameri-whore."

"I am ruined," she whispered, collapsing on the bed in dismay.

"Look at the time," he said, suddenly scooting off the bed. "Quick, lick me clean."

Without thought, she obeyed and quickly licked and sucked his prick clean. Satisfied, he dressed and departed. Seconds later the four whores in the window rushed into the room. Jezzelle, Tera, Yvette and Roselyn looked at her with wicked delight burning in their eyes.

"Now what?" Ms Americana said, sitting on the side of the bed with her head in her hands.

"This is your room for the night," Jezzelle said. "So you keep working, make the johns pay full price for a room, then bring them here. Mr. Cocks gets half of the rent after the first trick."

"You expect me to continue working tonight?"

"Duh," Yvette said. The stunning redhead smiled cruelly. "I am enjoying this so much. I've dreamed of this night."

"And it is better than you dreamed, too, isn't it?" Tera said.

"Yes."

"Me, too."

"Get back to work, Americana," Jezzelle demanded. "And you better have a LOT of money for your pimp tomorrow when he gets out of jail to console him."

"I understand," she said.

So Ms Americana dressed and headed back out to the mean streets of Delta City's sleaziest red light district. It proved a long and profitable night for Sugar Town's newest prostitute. She was not allowed to "clock out" until well past four in the morning. And even then she wasn't allowed to go home. Instead, Jezzelle took her to Mr. Cocks' house, and preceded to teacher her more than she ever wanted to know about lesbian bondage, discipline and the joys of lesbian sex.

Ms Americana was in full costume and all dolled up when Mr. Cocks returned home the next day just after ten in the morning. And boy was he surprised and happy to see her. Of course, without her filing a police report they couldn't hold or prosecute him. So he was off Scot-free. Not so the Queen of Justice.

Mr. Cocks fucked her stupid, then invited all of his sex industry friends over to see and fuck her newest whore. And THEN, he had each and every one of his other whores put on sex shows with her for everyone's entertainment. Then finished just as the sun was going down.

"Time for work, Ameri-slut," Mr. Cocks said. Then his dark eyes hardened. "And you better earn more than that measly twelve hundred dollars you made last night, or else I'll beat you to a pulp. Understand?"

"Yes," she said. Then she smiled knowingly, "Don't worry. I'm a quick study, and will make you proud, Sweetheart."

Ms Americana turned on a tall stiletto heel and headed for the door. As she passed the grinning whores, she said, "I'll be his favorite, both in bed and top earning, by the end of the week, bitches."

THE END