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

Ms Americana is the creation of Mr. X. I came up with the villains.

Please direct all comments and feedback to dark_one@live.com. Put Ms Americana, the story’s title or Story feedback in subject line, otherwise I might think it is spam and delete. Or visit my blog at: http://writer-dark-one.livejournal.com/.

MS AMERICANA: BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION

By Dark One

The air was crisp in the sterile white laboratory. Brenda felt her nipples harden immediately. Thankfully, she always wore a good bra that covered up such "embarrassments." She wore her glossy black hair pulled up and braided, with a few artful tendrils dangling around her stunningly beautiful face. Her suit jacket was the same shade of baby blue as her eyes, making those fetching eyes POP. The skirt was black, dropped to just above her knee and a wide black belt cinched her tiny waist, with a big silver, circular buckle. She wasn't wearing any hose, and stuffed her feet into sinfully expensive Jimmy Choo stiletto sandals. The shoes' strap around her ankles were silver chains. A little sexy for work shoes, but sometimes she liked to indulge herself.

Brenda stood in the lab's door, looking around. She was looking for Dr. Jacoby, Chief Scientist of Project Behavior Modification. The project was Brenda's brainchild, where she envisioned a device of some sort that could be used in the nation's prison to "modify" the bad behavior traits of repeat criminals. It was better to create model citizens, contributing to the public good, of convicted men and women than to spend billions every year incarcerating them at tax payer expense.

"Where is Dr. Jacoby?" Brenda asked.

"Oh!" both lab techs yelped, startled by her unseen arrival.

"Miss Wade!" the blonde, Veronique LaBlanc, gasped out, blue eyes wide.

"That's MS Wade, Veronique," Brenda said.

Veronique was a gorgeous blonde, with big blue eyes and a spectacular body she liked the barely cloth in the sexiest outfits. Her satin skirt barely covered her sweet round ass, her bustier top left a few inches of skin visible around her waist, and was only held up by the tiniest spaghetti straps. She accessorized with a black satin choker, lacy black hose and black stiletto ankle boots. Her cohort in crime, Brandy Branson was an equally gorgeous brunette, with sexy bangs that hung down into big green eyes. She wore a skin tight coppery-gold sheath dress that barely covered her assets, top and bottom. Her legs were bare, but stuffed into five and a half inch spike-heeled fuck-me-all-night pumps. Brenda had the same pumps in red at home. For nights out dancing.

"Of course!" Brandy said. "MS Wade, what can we do for you?"

Brenda paused to scowl at the two scandalously sexy lab techs. If she didn't know they were both highly qualified and highly educated women, they would've been fired the same day Dr. Jacoby hired them. Fresh out of college. She was pretty sure the old scientist was fucking them both on the side, but she hadn't caught them in the act. Yet.

"The white lab coats are nice touches, ladies," Brenda said. "But you're still dressed like streetwalkers underneath."

"What?" Veronique said, acting all shocked and offended. "We're dressing much more conservatively since your last talk to us."

"True. But there is still room for improvement," Brenda said, stepping deeper into the laboratory as she looked around. In the center of the room was the machine she was putting all her hopes into for a better world. As Ms Americana, she could also drag any miscreants she caught straight to her very own Behavior Modification machine and "rehabilitate" them without involving the courts. Too often the court let them go with slaps on the wrist. "You're still dressing like nasty sluts. I expect a much bigger improvement in your personal styles next time we meet."

Brandy and Veronique looked her up and down, and then locked on her own super sexy heels. Brenda started walking toward the Behavior Modification machine to make it harder for them to check out her "inappropriate" footwear. She made a mental note to dress much more conservatively before she met them next time.

"Where is Dr. Jacoby?"

"He's in a meeting," Brandy said. "I'm not sure when he'll return."

"What do you mean?" Veronique said. "He'll be here at any time. He's just…"

"Yes, Veronique, I know, but still we don't know for SURE when he'll return," Brandy said harshly. Brenda noticed from the corner of her eye Brandy give the blonde a fierce gaze, that shut up Veronique. "We'll be sure to tell him you came by, Ms Wade."

"Not necessary," Brenda said, sitting on the small, black padded seat attached to the machine. She noticed it came alive when she said down. "Mmmm. Interesting. Are you making any headway?"

The sexy lab assistants seemed to shrink into themselves a second, realizing the big boss was not going to leave. After deep sighs, they stepped over to either side of the mega-gorgeous, billionaire businesswoman.

"Some progress," Brandy said. "Some people melt like butter when they stare into the eye piece. Almost instantaneous hypnosis. But some of the stronger willed, most hardened criminals aren't the least bit affected."

"If the machine doesn't hypnotize the patient, we cannot modify his behavior," Veronique said. She shrugged.

"If it does hypnotize him, we can change the very way he looks at the world, how he reacts to other people," Brandy said. "As best we can see, any behavior modifications we do are permanent and really undetectable by the patient. He might know he's acting differently, but he doesn't care. It all just seems natural to him."

"Yep, we can program them to be whatever we want them to be," Veronique said. She snapped her fingers. "Just like that."

"Excellent," Brenda said, half-turned and bent her head to the eye piece.

"Wait, don't -- !" Brandy called, but was too late.

"Oh," Brenda gasped, her draw dropping as all thought and will evaporated from her mind. The beautiful black-maned billionaire sat perfectly still, mind wiped clean, an empty canvass.

"Oh, we're going to be in so much trouble," Brandy hissed, stomping her little foot and glaring at Brenda. "That bitch will have us skinned alive and tossed out on the street."

"But it's not our fault she did something stupid," Veronique said.

"You're point?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. She's one of those uppity 'superior' women, who will blame us to keep herself pure," Veronique said, dejected at the prospect of losing her cushy job and great benefits. "She's perfectly fine. Once we turn off the machine, she will revert back to normal. No harm done. Dammit."

"Exactly," Brandy said, scowling down at her boss. "The bitch has had a hard-on for our asses since day one. This is just what she wanted so she'd have an excuse to fire us."

"Ha! Yeah. A hard-on is what she needs. A big fat cock right between the legs," Veronique said. "That'll calm her down some."

"Yes, I agree. She'd be a much nicer person if she'd just get laid once in a while," Brandy said, then froze. She gawked at Veronique, then at Brenda and finally at the Behavior Modification machine. "Oh my God, Brenda Fucking Wade is super susceptible to hypnosis. She's not the least bit hard-bitten, hard-willed. She is COMPLETELY open to suggestion and very, very, very malleable."

"Oh my God, think we should program Brenda Wade?" Veronique said.

"We have no choice," Brandy said.

They alternated between gawking at each other, and at Brenda for a long moment. Then both of them started thinking of all the nasty, hurtful things Brenda always said to them. Dress like streetwalkers. At like whores. Dating the wrong men, what she called "Nasty Boys."

"I think someone's about to get NASTY," Brandy said, leering at Brenda.

"Oh yeah," Veronique said. "Very nasty and naughty."

Brandy leaned in close and spoke into Brenda's ear. "Brenda, you LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to have wicked sexy with NASTY boys."

"You can NEVER pass up a chance to fuck NASTY boys and GIRLS," Veronique said.

"You so horny," Brandy said, and giggled. "That's your new and only emotional state, babe. You are horny all the time."

"You so HORNY," Veronique said. "You so horny ALL THE TIME."

"You will dress uber sexy, like a whore, like a STREETWALKER," Brandy said. "And you will have nasty sex with bad boys, nasty boys, and wild wicked man you meet, and do anything he wants. ANYTHING."

'Now, Brenda, go find someone and FUCK them stupid," Veronique hissed, blue eyes blazing with wicked glee. "Fuck them with every orifice of your luscious body."

Brandy reached up and turned off the machine.

"Oh? What? Where am I?" Brenda stammered.

"Ooooh, did I see some NASTY boys out front?" Brandy said.

Brenda's baby blues perked up. "Really? That's….that's…unacceptable," she said, looking confused as she started rubbing her thighs together. Mention of nasty boys took her breath away. She was soooo damn HORNY. "I'm so horny. I'm so…Uh…I mean, I have to go."

Brenda rose unsteadily to her feet and stumbled out of the lab without further ado. She heard the two young women laughing behind her, but didn't know why, and didn't care. She was on fire. Brenda needed relief, and she needed if NOW. The elevator opened as she approached, and she noticed one of the security guards inside.

Old Gus was a vile man, but he could sit on the loading docks and not take any gruff off the truckers. He was six foot even, steel gray hair cut on a flat-top, portly. He was a retired dockworker, so tough as nails. The security guard froze, his cold gray eyes looking her form up and down several times.

"Pull your eyes back in, dickwad," Brenda snarled as she stepped onto the elevator and hit the lobby button, surprised by her own nasty mouth. Brenda never cussed. But she was feeling all discombobulated. And then that nasty man looked at her like she was a tasty morsel to be eaten up. "Oh! Oh my. I'm so….ugh."

"Anything the matter, Ms Wade?" Old Gus asked, eyes locked onto her heaving 38Gs beneath her suit jacket.

Brenda glanced to her side, letting her baby blues look him up and down. Weather ravaged face. Big belly drooping over his belt. Big, callused hands. He had cold eyes, and she thought he looked foul and….nasty.

Licking full red lips, Brenda reached out and pushed the STOP button.

"Can you keep a secret, Gus?"

"Um, yeah. I suppose," he said warily.

"I'm horny," Brenda said, pulling off her jacket to reveal a lacy black bra. She reached up into her thick, shimmering hair and pulled out two pins. Raven waves of luxury cascaded across her shoulders and down her back. "I'm so horny all the time."

"Really?"

"Do you want me?"

"Duh."

Brenda dropped to her knees. Seconds later he was unzipped, and his cock was in her exquisitely manicured hands. She leaned in, and glossy red lips parted as the stench of his cock and balls assaulted her.

"Nasty boy," she muttered, and eagerly gobbled him down. "Uuggghhhh! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmggggggggghhhhhh!"

Brenda squeezed and rubbed his balls as her head bobbed up and down his cock. Gus gasped and groaned, bucked and shivered as she gave him the most intense head and blowjob she could. It didn't take long before he filled her mouth with hot cum.

"Mmmm, delicious," Brenda said. She tucked him back into his pants, rose up and kissed him. Then she put on her bra and jacket, and started the elevator back up. "Thanks, Gus. You're a nasty boy, just the way I like them."

"Yes, ma'am," Gus said, wide eyed and staring at her.

Brenda strode out of the Wade Laboratories Annex, out into the bright light of midafternoon. Her heart raced as she looked around for the nasty boys said to be out there. None to be seen.

"Those nasty boys are gone," she said. 'I'll just go driving around to ensure they really are gone."

Brenda hurried over to her white Mercedes Benz convertible and took off in hot pursuit. She circled the facility and found nothing, so widened her search. After an hour, the hyper horny billionaire gave up the search and headed for her office. Back at the office, she was able to lose herself in the engrossing work.

"I need a drink," Brenda said as she slipped behind the wheel of her car again. She pressed her hands against her lower belly. She felt the butterflies, as she felt them all afternoon. Part of her was pleased to be so horny, because it meant more pent up sexual frustration to full her power belt. But it usually wasn't this strong and persistent. "I need something to quiet my strange inner turmoil."

Moments later, as she drove out of downtown, Brenda spotted an establishment she'd never entered. Never even considered patronizing before. Rowdy's Roadhouse. It was a notorious outlaw biker hangout. She'd never heard of anything illegal going on there, so as Ms Americana had never been tempted to check it out.

"They have a clean record, so I'm sure it's safe for me to go into for my drink," Brenda said, turning into the parking lot. She found a parking place between two long lines of Harley-Davidson motorcycles. "Oh, nasty boys."

Three big, muscular bikers stood by the door, staring intensely at her. They were all well over six feet tall, bearded and hard-eyed. They wore dirty denim and leather vests over even dirtier Harley tee shirts.

Brenda felt her heart rate ramp up as she sensuously slipped out of her car. She laid sultry baby blues on the men, and headed straight for them, and the door.

"Strut it, babe," one said.

"For you, anything," Brenda purred, and began a sassy strut. As she reached the door, one of the bikers reached out and slapped her on the ass. "Ouchie! Oh, that was so wrong. You disrespected me terribly." She gnawed on her lower lips, looking the three bikers over with hungry eyes. Her belly was a riot of butterflies. It suddenly felt so, so hot just then. She felt sweat starting to break out on her forehead and deep in her cleavage. "Only really nasty boys would do that to someone like me."

"Very nasty, babe," he said. "The kind of men to get really down and dirty with a rich bitch like you."

"Oh, such a naughty mouth," Brenda said, cupping his bearded chin and kissing him. He reached up and grabbed her boobs through her jacket. Brenda laughed, and twisted out of his hands. "Very naughty hands."

Brenda Wade, Delta City's most prominent, most respected businesswoman and philanthropist, strutted into that den of depravity without a care in the world. Her waist length, glossy black hair was still down from her tryst in the elevator. Her $1500 stilettos clicked and clattered on the filthy hardwood floors and she felt her boobs and silky hair bounce as she strutted through the thick crowd.

As she passed between the tables, leering bikers reached out and patted, pinched, slapped and fondled her swinging butt. Brenda laughed and continued, feeling she was finally in her element. Every touch stoked the fire within, so that she was panting by the time she reached the bar. With a roguish smile, she looked around the road house with wicked glee filled eyes.

"What are you drinking, lady?" the burly bartender said, looking her over with disapproval. "White wine? A Cosmopolitan?"

"Whiskey. Clean."

When he delivered it, she threw it straight down.

"Ah, that hit the spot," Brenda said.

"Nice ass, girl," a giant redhead biker said, stepping up close. He reached down and grabbed a big handful of ass cheek to the wild laughter and catcalls of his friends, who were calling him Red. "But that fancy jacket is covering half of it up."

"Really? My bad," Brenda said, and removed the jacket. The room fell into stunned silence as her titanic tits came into view, held high and proud by her lacy black bra. "What's the matter, boys? Never see a perfect pair of 38Gs before?"

"Does the ass match the tits?" Red said.

"Let's see," Brenda said. She reached back, unzipped and then unbuckled the wide belt. The weight of the belt and buckle dragged the expensive skirt down her mile long legs to puddle at her feet. Brenda put both hands on the bar, bent over and thrust out her shapely rump. Then shaking her ass, she said, "You tell me. Good enough?"

"Good enough to spank," he said.

CRACK!

"Aaiiee! Oh, another one, you nasty boy," Brenda cried. "I'm such a naughty girl."

CRACK!

"Aaaiiee, uggh, baby. Another!"

CRACK!

"Again!"

CRACK!

"Again!"

CRACK!

"Oh Goddess, I think I'm going to cum!"

Red immediately stepped up close behind her, unzipped and pulled her black thongs to one side. Seconds later Brenda felt a huge, thick cock thrust up her cunt. It was so big, so sudden she couldn't even scream. That penetration sucked the air out of her lungs and all she could do was groan low and claw at the bar.

That cock sealed the deal for Brenda. Her libido was already in overdrive, and that pushed her over the top. As Red's monster cock spreader her wider and wider, driving in deeper and deeper with fast, hard thrusts, his big hands clamped down on her wide hips, felt herself rushing towards climax.

"Oh! Oh! Oh, Goddess….I'm so HORNY!" Brenda cried, and then the orgasm consumed her body and soul. "AAAAaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee! Oh, faster! Faster! Oh Goddess, make him go faster! Aaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!"

Red became so excited he lost his battle to prolong, and creamed her pussy good. Seconds later, a beautiful blonde and even more stunning redhead, both dressed like strippers in just a thong and stiletto thigh boots, each took one of her wrists and led Brenda over to a pool table. They pushed her back up on the pool table, and then pulled her legs wide.

A line of bikers formed up before Brenda.

"Oh, so many nasty boys."

"Yeah, we're nasty. But so are you, rich bitch," the first biker said, unzipping. "Now you're going to get what you came here for, a good, long, thorough fucking."

And that is precisely what the outlaw bikers did. Brenda spent the next seven hours on her back, on her knees, all fours and bent over more chairs than she could remember. The beautiful billionaire babe went down, got passed around, she got it every way imaginable. And loved every second of it.

The next day was Saturday. Brenda had the weekend off. Lydia was in Cancun with a bunch of girlfriends. With nothing better to do, Brenda dressed up as Ms Americana. She had a lot of pent up …..SOMETHING she needed to release. Kicking miscreant ass always made her feel better, feel all was right with the world. And the best place to find lots and lots of malefactors to beat up was Sugar Town. That vile red light district was twenty-four/seven, never ending misery and debauchery.

"Let's see if I have anything after last night," Brenda said. She was standing naked in the secret room behind her closet. She encircled her tiny waist with the golden power belt, and felt that heady, almost erotic flow of super power through her spectacular body. "Yes! I'm at full power, even after being climaxed a bejillion times last night. Wow. That's great."

She was thrilled, but not really surprised. Even after being satiated at Rowdy's Roadhouse, within the hour she was squirming with need again. In fact, her needs might've been even greater now that her extremely sexually neglected body knew what it was missing. Brenda wasn't surprised at all that she had the needed pent up sexual frustrations to power her belt to its fullest.

"The Curse is hitting me especially hard this weekend," she muttered. Brenda suspected Lydia was suffering from it too. It was an unspoken secret, that when one of them took a weekend in Cancun it meant their sexual needs were just too much, and had to be quenched. The Curse of Aphrodite demanded it every so often, unsavory as it was. "I'm surprised last night didn't take care of me. Oh well, it happens. Kicking pimp and pusher butt can be just as satisfying."

Satisfied she had all of her super strength and endurance, Brenda started dressing. First, she put on the red stiletto calf boots, then pulled the red, white and blue thongs up her shapely legs. The matching strapless top followed, holding her massive mammaries comfortably. Next she tied the blue choker around her slender throat, and then hung the red star earrings from her ears. That done, she put on her blue, star-spangled mask and then the red gauntlet gloves. Last of all, she "crowned" herself with the golden tiara.

"Watch out world, the Queen of Justice is on the prowl," Ms Americana said. "I mean on patrol."

Ms Americana arrived in Sugar Town before ten that morning. Though Sugar Town's debauchery was all day and all night, the early morning hours were the slowest. Saturday mornings were busier than weekdays mornings, though. The sexy super heroine expected to find plenty of "entertainment."

Parking her tricked out car, the vivacious vigilante vixen took off down the street, heading toward the heart of Sugar Town. Without thought, she moved with a saucy strut that caught everyone's eye.

"Work it, Ms A," a young black man in hip hop attire called. Since Jamal was a street vendor, selling hotdogs and chili dogs, he had nothing to worry about from the sexy super heroine.

"Yeah, strut, pout and put it out, Ms Americana!" his ne'er do well friend called.

Jamal and DeWayne went to High School together. And they dropped out together. Ms Americana shook her head and continued on. Until one of the streetwalkers called something out that struck home, for some strange reason.

"Y'all hush up," Devonique said. The beautiful twenty-two year old African-American hooker stood about ten feet to one side of the young men. "Ms Americana don't care about no NASTY boys like you."

"Oh," Ms Americana gasped softly. She came to a stop and cut a look at the two young men. Both froze, fearing they'd finally crossed the line with her. She smiled sultrily and turned on a heel. "I need to speak with you two nasty boys in private."

"We didn't do nothing?" DeWayne said, wide eyed.

They could've been brothers. Both were six foot three, medium build and looked strong. Ms Americana's mouth was already watering, and she felt her pussy starting to tingle, burn and moisten. Okay, it was getting very wet. She was so horny just walking got her off big time.

"We'll see," Ms Americana said, grinning with wicked delight. "Follow me."

"Oh, Jesus," Jamal said, starting after her. He punched DeWayne in the arm. "It's your fault, Dawg."

The super sexy Queen of Justice went only ten feet into the alley and turned around. She struck a classic super heroine pose: chin high, chest thrust out, hip cocked to one side and hands on said hips.

"You nasty boys looking for something from me?" Ms Americana said.

"No," they said in unison.

"No? Really? Then what was that 'strut, pout, put it out' comment for? To hear your heads rattle?" she said.

"Um," DeWayne said, looking very nervous.

"Here, let me help you," Ms Americana said, and bent over at the waist. They both dropped their eyes to her dangling 38Ds, staring deep into her cavernous cleavage. Then the sexy super heroine started to POUT. "Okay, now that I've strutted, and pouted, who wants to be first when I put out?" She pouted pretty, reached up between her titanic tits and unfastened her top. Tossing the top aside, she enjoyed with looks on their stunned faces, and the huge bulges in their pants. "What's a girl got to do to get laid around here? Hmmm?"

Jamal recovered first. He stepped forward, cupped a naked tit in his right hand, entwined his left deep in her silky black mane and pulled her in for a passionate kiss as he started fondling her.

"Mmmmm," Ms Americana groaned wantonly.

DeWayne moved up behind her. He watched his friend kissing and fondling Ms Americana for a few minutes, all the while stroking her satiny smooth ass. Then he dropped to his knees and started kissing and licking and nibbling on her sweet round rump. Then he reached round to her snatch.

"Dawg, this super bitch is super wet," DeWayne said, awestruck. "She is HOT TO TROT."

Jamal kissed his way down to her 38Gs, and started sucking on a rock hard, highly sensitive nipple. That was enough to burn away the butterflies and fire up the furnace of her passions. Ms Americana groaned wantonly as she spotted Devonique at the end of the alley, watching in stunned silence. The super sexy Queen of Justice winked at her.

By the time DeWayne pulled her thong down her legs, the Queen of Justice was panting like a bitch in heat. She dropped to her knees, reached back and guided DeWayne's cock straight up and into her quaking, pulsating pussy.

"Ooooooooogggghhhh, yeeeesss," Ms Americana groaned as she unzipped Jamal and pulled his cock out. "Just like that, DeWayne. Yes. Pump it. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me NASTY boy."

"Oh, I get it. You like nasty boys," Jamal said, nodding. "I see it all the time."

"Yeah, nasty boys," Ms Americana groaned, savoring the feel of DeWayne's cock fucking her properly. "Oh, me so horny. Me so horny."

"You're horny?"

"Oh yes," she said, then gobbled his cock down. She bobbed her head a few times, slurping loudly, then pulled off. "Me so horny, baby. Me so horny ALL THE TIME."

The super sexy super heroine spent the next ten minutes licking Jamal's cock from head to balls, over and over, with lots of ball sucking and licking thrown in too. All the while DeWayne's magic cock was driving her wild with pleasure and desire, and stoking her needs to higher and higher levels. Then when DeWayne reached around and started squeezing her tingly tits with both hands, and increasing the rate of pumping into her pussy, she knew she was a goner.

"Goddess….I aaammm CUUUUMMMINNNNNGGG!" she cried, and felt Jamal start to ejaculate all over her face, neck and tits. "Oh, yes! Cum in my face, nasty boy! Aaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Then she felt DeWayne creaming her pussy from behind, and climaxed again. "Aaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeee!"

"Oh my God!" Devonique said from right beside them. Ms Americana idly, deep down, wondered why she was standing there. "You climaxed Ms Americana. Several times. That means she is tamed, and de-powered."

To prove her point, Devonique reached down, and unfastened Ms Americana's power belt. The beautiful black hooker whooped with joy, clutched the all important power belt to her bosom, and took off running for the street. Even in her sex besotted state, the statuesque super heroine understood what was happening, and what she had to do.

"Come back with that!" Ms Americana cried, pushing Jamal and DeWayne away. She snatched up her top and bottoms, and raced after Devonique. "Give it back or I'll pound your face into the ground!"

Devonique squeaked and dashed into the next doorway. Ms Americana charged in after her. Three steps inside and the sexy heroine came to a halt.

"Oh," she said. Ms Americana was inside a strip club. Then she spotted Devonique at the bar, her golden power belt spread out atop it, and a butcher knife in one hand and poised to stab the belt.

"NO!" Ms Americana cried.

"Will you do as you're told?" Devonique said.

"I…I can't…I…," Ms Americana stammered, wild-eyed. "I'm Ms Americana, a super heroine…I can't…"

"You are a sex crazed skank whore," Devonique sneered. "With a taste for nasty boys. Well, here's a room full of nasty boys. Entertain them, Ms A. Make their day."

"Nasty boys?" Ms Americana said in a tiny voice, baby blues wide with amazement. She felt her hunger come alive. Her needs and desires burst free and consumed her. Her belly was still quivering from what DeWayne and Jamal had done to her, and now a room full of sexy nasty boys to play with. "Oh, my."

"Are you going to do what I tell you to do ?" Devonique demanded.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Have sex with all of these nasty boys."

Without thought Ms Americana's hand opened, and her top and bottoms within that hand fell to the floor. She looked around at all the hungry, lusty, leering men and felt her chest tighten until she was panting lightly, felt her quaking belly explode with angry butterflies, felt her pussy burn and tingle with need and desire.

"Oh, I can do that."

"Dance for us," one of the nasty boys called. "Strip for us."

A nasty boy wanted her to strip. So, true to her programming, her modified behavior, Ms Americana suddenly wanted to strip, to entertain, to fuck and otherwise frolic naughtily with all those nasty boys. She reached down, picked up her discarded costume and quickly put it on to low groans from the horny men. She laughed and strutted towards the stage.

The Queen of Justice climbed up on the main stage just as the music to Strut, Pout, Put it Out started up. <How appropriate,> she thought with a tiny smile. So, the hapless heroine started to strut, pout, and otherwise dance and display her spectacular body off to all those horny, lecherous NASTY boys.

The response was loud and raucous. The oversexed super heroine was thrilled and her libido was stoked to higher and higher levels. She whipped her long, shimmering hair around and dropped into a deep split that left a wet spot when her well used pussy smacked the tile floor. Then she rolled to all four and crawled sensuously along the edge of the stage as the eager eyed men reached out and stroked, patted and squeezed her luscious body as she passed by. They also pushed one, five and ten dollar bills up under her thong bottoms, making her truly look like a stripper.

"Hey, Americana, suck on THIS!" a big, hair, biker called, whipping out his cock at the edge of the stage. "I'll give you twenty to suck it like the skank whore you are."

Without thought, she took the twenty dollar bill and wrapped her full red lips around the head of that stinky cock. Within seconds her head was bobbing to the gasps, then cheers of the room. Deep down, she knew she'd really, really screwed up. Ms Americana accepted payment for sex.

<Goddess, forgive me, but I've become a hooker,> she thought, never missing a beat sucking the biker's cock. Out loud, of course, all they heard was her low, wanton groan, "Mmmmmmmm."

The biker hadn't really expected her to accept his proposition, so was delightfully stunned. And unprepared. Within two minutes of her starting to suck his cock, he lost it.

"Uuugghh, yeah baby," he groaned as he ejaculated into her mouth, ballooning her cheeks. "Suck it all down, Ameri-whore."

And she did.

"There you go, nasty boy," Ms Americana said, standing up and stuffing the twenty into her thong. The song had ended halfway through the BJ, but another has started. So the super sexy super heroine reached between her titanic tits and unfastened the top. She whipped the top off, enjoying the look of awe on all the faces and then shook her ta-tas at the nasty boys. "See anything you like, nasty boys?"

"YES!" the cried. "TITTIES!"

"Not just titties, nasty boys. But 100% corn fed AMERICANA titties," she said, and laughed.

Then the reprogrammed super vixen spent the next hour dancing topless, taking tips and giving the occasional BJ for twenty a pop. Right off the edge of the stage. It ended with a huge black pusher climbed up on stage, with a straight back chair. He had her knee on the seat of the chair, hold onto the back tightly, and then thrust his huge black clock up into her throbbing pussy.

"Uuuuuuuuggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh! Great Liberty! Oh yes! Yes! YES! Uuuuuuuuugggghhhhhhh!" she cried, pushed right to the very edge of ultimate pleasure. First of all she was super horny from all the topless dancing, groping and ass slapping, and then a NASTY BOY told her what he WANTED from her. To make her nasty boy happy Ms Americana would do ANYTHING. "OH….MY…GODDESS…I am CUUUUUUUMMMMMMINNNNNNGGGGGGGG!"

The crowd roared its approval. That thrilled her to no end, so she wiggled her shapely ass as the pusher continued to pound it mercilessly. Looking back over her naked shoulder, tits bouncing, slack jawed and bleary-eyed, Ms Americana smiled sensuously up at him. Then she noticed the men lined up behind him. There was no clock in the strip joint, but is was still early in the day.

"I'm toast," she muttered, feeling her body about to explode with another monster climax. Seconds later, it slammed into her like no orgasm ever had before. It seared away her mind, will-power and all thoughts but SEX. Glorious sex. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Great Liberty, I am TAAAMMMMEEEDDDD! Yyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeoowwwwwwwww!"

"We did it, boys!" Devonique cried joyfully, joining them up on the stage. "The high and mighty Queen of Justice is broken and TAMED. Now we spend the rest of the day COCK WHIPPING her into ultimate submission!"

Devonique beamed with pleasure as the men cheered enthusiastically. Then she stepped up close, started caressing Ms Americana's beautiful, masked face with both hands, caressing her face lovingly, adoringly, then she bent over and kissed her deep and passionately.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm," they both groaned.

As she kissed the vanquished vigilante, Devonique began pealing Ms Americana's mask off. Ms Americana went wild-eyed for a second, but then another man mounted her from the rear. Well, in her actual rear. He started butt fucking her really hard and fast, and she forgot about the unmasking a second. Until it was high enough and Devonique peeked up her the mask and grinned wickedly.

"Hello, Brenda 'My personal fuck toy' Wade."

"H….ugh…Hell….Ugh….Hello," Brenda said in a tiny voice, knowing she was totally FUCKED now. That oversexed bastard pounding her ass so well wasn't helping her think straight, either. "Wh…what are….ooohhhh yeah….What are you going….to do with me?"

The sexy African American hooker pressed the mask back down, having been the only one to get a good look at the unmasked heroine. She grabbed a big fistful is glossy black hair and jerked Ms Americana's head back savagely, then reached down with her other hand and started fondling her bouncing 38Gs. She kissed her again, long and sensuously.

"You're going to buy me a fancy new gentlemen's club, I'll call it NASTY GIRLS," Devonique said. "And you will be the star attraction."

"Oh."

"Any problem with that?"

"I have no choice," Ms Americana said. "You know my ultimate secret, so I am yours to command."

"Good answer."

"Will there….ugh, ooohh….will there be nasty boys?"

"Nothing but nasty boys," Devonique said, grinning as Ms Americana's face lit up with joy. "And you are going to make all those nasty boys very, very happy."

THE END