Miss Americana & Lady Victory get Boarded

-          By Violator

 

Author’s Note – There’s very little fighting in this one – I generally prefer scenarios where heroines are forced or tricked into surrendering and this is one.  Lady Victory as far as I know only appeared in the first Fourth Reich story.  I stuck her in a bikini here due to the setting.  Hit END for a short summary.

 

A long, sleek, and powerful speedboat slid smoothly through the deep blue sea, on the outer edges of the Bahamas.  The weather was warm, clear, and calm.  Two well-endowed and scantily-clad women lounged upon its deck, their large breasts sloshing in time to the rolling of the waves.  One beauty, a short-haired blonde, was laid out upon the forward deck sunning herself.  Her ravishing companion, lustrous raven hair flashing in the wind, sat perched behind the wheel.  Both had drinks dangling from their elegant gloved hands.  The boat was white with arcing red and blue racing stripes, and across its broad tail was printed in similarly patriotic letters the name Sea Justice One.

“Now this is my kind of patrolling,” Lady Victory sighed in her upper-class English accent.  She had eschewed her usual one-piece in favor of a skimpy Union Jack bikini, mask, and little else.  With smirking pink lips she took a sip of her daiquiri.

“You know it, girl,” Ms. Americana purred, lounging back in her own American flag bikini.  One of her gloved hands swirled her margarita as the other lazily steered. 

“Mmm…” Lady Victory purred.  “Hey,” she said, flopping onto her side and grinning over her shoulder, “you absolutely sure we don’t need a bigger boat?”

“Shut up,” Ms. Americana said.  It was not the first time the British heroine had made the joke, and Ms. Americana regretted letting her put on Jaws during their preparations for the trip.  She casually turned the wheel, steadying her thirty-foot craft.  “Keep your eyes and ears peeled.  Remember, this isn’t just a pleasure cruise.  The Bermuda Triangle may just be a myth, but those Delta U sorority girls didn’t just vanish into nothing…  I hope."

Pinned to her console Ms. Americana had a photo, the last known photo said girls had taken before leaving the dock.  From it beamed ten of the most beautiful and voluptuous young ladies in all of Delta City, wearing, it appeared, the ten tiniest bikinis human science could construct. They had piled before their flip-flop-clad feet six open coolers filled with enough ice, rum, and girly-drink mixers to annihilate the inhibitions of a group ten times their number, and, behind them, a double-hulled boat that looked like it could barely contain all of their jostling jiggling bodies.  A boy para-dropped into their boat an hour after it left port would probably have assumed he’d died and been sent to heaven… and, an hour or five later, might well have become convinced that instead it was hell.  A caption digitally inserted before the Facebook post from which it had come to her proudly announced, above a row of bleached-blonde squealing smiles, “Double Delta Girls’ Spring Trip!”

"Right," Lady Victory said, and rolled back onto her back, atop her sprawled Union Jack towel, to keep her lookout.

But as the sleek Americana-boat glided slowly onward through tropical waters, neither heroine could feel particularly threatened.  Despite the gravity of their mission, the roll of the waves and the warmth of the sun slowly lulled the scantily-clad heroines into a lazy and contended ease.  A steady stream of drinks didn’t hurt.  Soon, without even realizing it, they slowly approached the remote coral reef where the missing co-eds had been heading for some scantily-clad snorkeling when they vanished.  Then their idle ease was broken as a deep and unnatural moan suddenly reverberated up from beneath the water. 

“What was that?!” Ms. Americana gasped, ass rising up pneumatically over her seat as she craned her head.

“Kill the engine!” Lady Victory said, jerking up alertly upon her towel.  Her mighty magic mace rested next to one buxom hip.  Her fifth empty drink in as many hours rested beside the other.

The boat drifted in silence for several seconds, as its two voluptuous occupants leaned forward and strained their ears.  Then another low loud moan rose up from the water, and some bubbles burst from beneath the bow.  With a gasp, both busty crew-women leaped to their feet and scrambled forward.  Bending low they peered blindly down into the water, trying to see what had caused the noise… and seeing nothing.  Behind their uplifted, scantily-clad asses a clawed green hand reached up out of the sea on far side of the boat… and snipped their radio antenna down to a nub.  As quietly as it had come it vanished back into the sea.

Moments later a terrible screech rose from far beneath the waves, and the entire boat started to shake back and forth under the startled, sloshing heroines’ knees.

“Oh!” Lady Victory said.  “Something’s very wrong!  Get us out of here!”

“Right!” Ms. Americana said.  Leaping to her feet she dashed back to the wheel, grabbed a firm hold of the throttle, and shoved it forward.  But instead of its usual roar her huge engine bucked and let out a sickening screech.  The deck kicked even more violently beneath them, and both mighty heroines squealed like schoolgirls.  Then the engine died, as a Christmas tree’s worth of warning lights exploded to life upon the ship’s control panel. 

“Oh, god, we broke down!” Americana said.  She grabbed up the radio microphone.  “Mayday, mayday,” she said into it.  “This is Sea Justice One, we are dead in the water!  I repeat, dead in the water!  Requesting rescue!”  But when she pulled it back from her lips all that came back was static.  She stared at the handset in shock.  “No!  The radio’s dead too!”

“We’re helpless!” Lady Victory said, in horror.

A chorus of dark laughter slowly started to bubble up from the sea all around them.  The two trapped super-heroines looked up, heads spinning round and gaping, as one by one a dozen ugly green faces rose up from the depths to bob in the sea all around their disabled boat.  The faces, a disgusting mixture of human and fish, leered up eagerly at the two trapped, bikini-clad beauties.

“Well, well, well,” the biggest and closest face said, from the sea just below the cockpit.  Alone of the creatures his face sported long eel-like whiskers.  “Look what we caught in our net!”

Ms. Americana strutted up to the side of the boat and planted her fists upon her hips.  “Who are you?” she demanded.  “What have you done to our boat?!”

The creature took a moment to leer up at her from the waves.  His eyes lingered in particular on the scantily-clad crotch that hovered just above the railing of the boat, as if presented for his view.   “We are the Sea Men!” he said, “I am our Leader.  We have used our Mystic Powers to shut down your pathetic, polluting vehicle.  We demand you pay us tribute for violating our realm… or it shall never move again!”

“NEVER!” Ms. Americana said.  She lifted her chin proudly, her eyes on fire.  “Super-heroines never bow, never surrender, and never give tribute!”

 “And British women will never ever be slaves,” Lady Victory added hotly.  She strutted up to stand side by side with her American ally.  Adopting an equally undaunted stance, she tapped a gloved finger to the front of her skimpy Union Jack panties.  “Not so long as we rule the waves!”

The Sea Man Leader looked at the two of them, and laughed.  “You may rule the waves, bitch, but we rule what is under them!” he said.  Then he lifted two clawed, membraned hands out of the water like a shrug.  “But if that’s your decision then… so be it!”

For the next few minutes the two sides were left to simply stare at each other in silence.  The two super-heroines preened haughtily, their thighs spread in defiant power stances.  But neither female proved eager to dive down into the water and fight the creatures in their own domain.  The peril to their bikini-clad bodies from the murky deep was simply too great.  The sea winds billowed against their stretched panty seats and buffeted at their huge bra-straining breasts.  Slowly, as minute stretched on minute, the two heroines began to bite their lips and squirm, as it settled in that they really were trapped.

 “We live here,” the Seaman leader pointed out, as he saw reality start to spread across their previously indomitable faces.  “We can wait as long as we like.  Can you?”

“Oh, Goddess, he’s right!” Ms. Americana moaned. 

She and Lady Victory briefly turned their heads, and looked into one another’s eyes.  Sighing and blushing in shame, but knowing they had no choice, they turned back to face the smirking Sea Man leader.

“You… you win,” Lady Victory sighed. She squirmed, her luscious body jiggling nervously in its tiny proud bikini.  “We… we surrender.  What tribute do you demand, you fiend?”

 “First things first!  Remove your objects of power, ladies, and place them upon the side of the boat,” the Seamen Leader said, grinning in triumph.  He raised a claw and made a mystic gesture towards their crotches.  “Don’t try to deceive us – we are eldritch beings and can see the sources of your strength!”

Ms. Americana gasped in outrage at the very idea.  But she had little choice.  Eventually, with a gasp of shame, she slowly lowered her hands to her belt.  The Sea Men chuckled evilly as they watched her take it in her grip.  Her belt sizzled and crackled with lightning as she opened it, depowering herself.  The floating fish-men’s chuckles rose swiftly to a delighted laughter, lashing at her squirming and suddenly depowered bottom. 

Blushing and glaring in defiance, Ms. Americana sauntered slowly forward and reluctantly laid her belt upon the side of the boat.  Coming forward beside her, Lady Victory did the same with her magic mace.  Then both heroines slowly backed up and raised their hands.  They looked on, gasping and helpless, as dripping green hands reached up from the sea, seized hold of both priceless treasures, and stole away with them back into the deep.

 “We are now disarmed,” Ms. Americana said. 

“We apologize for our intrusion in your lands… uh, waters,” Lady Victory said.  “Is that enough?  May we go in peace?”

“No!” the leader said.  “Your sacrilege demands much more sacrifice than that.  Next, you must take off those little bikinis… and hand them over too!”

Americana and Lady Victory both gasped, their eyes and raised hands spreading wide with shock.  “But you are inhuman beasts!” Lady Victory said.  “Why do you want to see our bodies?!”

“Your humiliation is what we crave!” the Leader sneered.  “To repay your mystic insult!  Now come on, super-heroines… show us how human women really surrender!”

The two heroines turned and looked at each other… and sighed in dread.  Slowly, simultaneously, their gloved hands lowered down… and slid into the massive crevices between their breasts.  With twin gasps, the two heroines unhooked their bras.  The watching Sea Men laughed as two enormous pairs of human jugs came out to jiggle before them.  Gasping, both heroines slowly bent down low at the waist, reached back, and slipped their gloved thumbs through the skimpy hips of their panties.  More Sea Man laughter rolled around them as they slowly pulled their tiny bikini bottoms up over their jiggling buxom asses.  Bending low and blushing they slowly slid them down their long, mighty, and deliciously squirming legs all the way to their ankles.  Standing with twin gasps, they stepped awkwardly from their bikinis and, reaching down, picked them up. 

“Excellent, human females!” the Sea Man Leader said, as he enjoyed the sight of the two heroines squirming naked before him.  “Now surrender your tribute to us!”

Naked bottoms rolling under the laughter of the Sea Men the helpless heroines obediently came forward and stood at the side.  Their pussies came to hover just above the rail, on full and glistening display above the bobbing fish-men.  Unwilling to meekly cover themselves, each heroine gasped as she put her left hand back upon her buxom round ass.  Then they extended their other arms out over the side.  Their huge bras and dainty panties dangled precariously from their fingertips, high above the rolling waves and leering fish-men.

“Receive our tribute, you fiends!” Americana said.

“I… I hope you enjoy them, creeps!” Lady Victory spat.

Then, simultaneously, Ms. Americana and Lady Victory opened their fingers.  They watched, mouths agape, as their precious little bikinis fluttered delicately down through the air before them.  One by one each dainty garment landed upon the waves.  Briefly they bobbed before their former owner’s exposed breasts and pussies, as their proud colorful fabrics began to soak with water.  Then, slowly the skimpy costumes began to sink down, hanging and sloshing just beneath the waves.  Until, from the murky dark below, clawed hands suddenly darted up and snatched them back down into the deep.

The two heroines gasped, staring down naked and helpless, as they saw their bikinis vanish.  Then, shivering in horror, they backed up from the rail, naked bodies jiggling deliciously.  Standing in the center of the deck, their courage seemed to fail them.  Scrunching down, each heroine’s hands slid down to clutch protectively, and inadequately, over her bulging breasts and defenseless bush.

“Is that enough tribute?!” Lady Victory demanded.  Her pretty face was red, as her buxom bare curves jiggled beneath her hands.  “Will you restore our boat and let us go?!”

“Of course not!” the Sea Man leader laughed. 

The two naked and depowered heroines let out cries of fury and frustration… but at this point, as their bare bottoms jiggled before the leers of his surrounding men, crying was all they could do.

“But do not worry, human females,” he continued.  “Three tributes total are required so only one remains.  But it is the worst!”  He licked his chops in anticipation.  Outraged but helpless to negotiate, the super-heroines could but wait with baited breath… bodies squirming with dreadful anticipation beneath their shielding hands.  “As your final eldritch tribute,” he said at last, “since you invaded our realm, you must repay your insolence… by letting us invade your own bodies in turn!” 

Both heroines' jaws dropped.  Neither had to ask his meaning… squirming naked and helpless at the center of his men, it came immediately to both buxom beauties’ minds.

“You… you want us to have sex with you?!” said Ms. Americana.

“We could never do that!” said Lady Victory.  “You… you might get us pregnant!”

The Seaman Leader laughed.  “Are you stupid?  We are different species!  Our seed could never fertilize your silly internal egg clutches!”  Laughter rolled around the gasping women, as their hands clutched protectively over their fertile hips.  “Though,” the leader added, smirking, “your human brood channels will still have to adapt to our members.  By human standards they are large and very… rough.”

Both heroines gasped and stared down at him in shock.  Then, slowly they licked their lips, and swallowed.

“I guess we have no choice…” Americana said.

“As long as it is merely a symbolic coupling,” Lady Victory whispered.

Squirming before their foes, both heroines slid their hands a little further down between their mighty thighs, trying and failing to conceal the moisture flowing from their imperiled pussies.

“Alright, you fiend!” Ms. Americana said down to her leering assailant.  “You have a deal!”

“Excellent!” the Seaman Leader said.  With a clawed green hand he tossed two coils of slimy green rope up on the boat.  The heroines gasped as the sea-drenched coils landed at their booted feet, splattering them.  “We are fragile out of water.  Bind yourselves, human females, so that we may safely make sport with your svelte, land-adapted bodies!”

Ms. Americana and Lady Victory looked into each other’s faces.  Slowly, sly knowing smirks spread across their lips.

“Of course!” Ms. Americana purred, turning her smugly smiling face back to give the bobbing Sea Leader a half-lidded smile.

“As you command!” Lady Victory cooed, trying and failing to suppress her own smirk.

Ms. Americana picked up the rope and, putting a hand upon her ass, escorted her shaky comrade up to the bow.  There she laid her down upon her Union Jack towel and, kneeling down over her, her own naked body sliding and jiggling deliciously atop her friend’s, she quickly and efficiently tied her up.  The leering Seamen shouted suggestions and demands to ensure the buxom blonde was well bound, and Americana dutifully complied with each of them.  “Don’t worry,” she said as, wrapping a rope over her shoulder, she took an opportunity to lean close and whisper in her comrade’s ear, “when they’re helpless and spent, I’ll free you and we’ll have our revenge.”  Lady Victory’s luscious red lips smirked silently in response.

When she stood up, Ms. Americana left her companion trussed hand and foot at her feet.  Lady Victory made a show of squirming in her bonds, her buxom charms jiggling spectacularly, and then collapsed back onto her back with a defeated gasp.  Nodding in satisfaction at her handiwork, Ms. Americana turned and proceeded back to the cockpit.  There, at the Sea Leader’s instructions she put her hands behind her and awkwardly looped a loose knot around her own forearms.  Then she backed her big bare ass up against the rail and dropped the loose end over the side.  She looked back, gasping, as the rope jerked taught against her behind.  The knot pulled tight around her wrists, binding her as well. 

Hands helpless and body naked, Ms. Americana also made a show of squirming and moaning in shame, her ass upon the rail.  But her svelte powerful legs remained dangerously unbound, just as the secretly smirking super-beauty had hoped.

“Excellent!” the Sea Man leader laughed, as he saw both foes squirming helpless before him.  “Now prepare to be boarded, human sluts!”

One by one, dozens of green clawed hands burst up out of the sea and grabbed hold of the boat’s gleaming chrome railings.  Americana stumbled back from the rail and stood in the center of the cockpit, turning slowly in place, watching with open gaping lips as one smirking sea monster face after another rose up, dripping, to leer at her over the side.  Lying helpless upon the foredeck, Lady Victory spun her head this way and that as one leering pair of eyes after another appeared, glittering and staring at her, over the edge of the deck.

Then, one by one the Seamen yanked themselves upwards and staggered in over the rail… water dripping from the bottom edges of their cheap rubber masks and clawed rubber flippers.  And beneath, to the heroines’ gaping shock, their fishy foes revealing human bodies… including, within a dozen speedos, a terrifying array of large and most certainly potent human phalluses.

Ms. Americana’s eyes went wide as she stared down in horror at her foes’ newly-revealed subterfuge.  “You… you bastards!” she gasped, licking her dry lips.

Then, with a desperate cry, she charged at them, trying to kick the disguised pirates overboard as they clambered over her rail.  But she had been expecting to face flopping fish-men-out-of-water… not literal seamen, with sea legs far better than hers.  Bound and depowered, she was no match.  Though she managed to kick one whooping pirate temporarily back into the sea the rest promptly seized her, and, gasping, the once-mighty heroine soon found herself held fast among a swarm of snickering pirates.  Insolent hands grabbed and stroked her sumptuous body, and there was nothing she could do but glare and gasp in impotent outrage.  Arms held firmly behind her the proud heroine was forced to watch, squirming and snarling in defiance, as the Seaman Leader hauled himself out of the water with powerful arms, stepped over her fantail, and stood dripping before her.

“HA!” he laughed, as he pulled off his mask.  Snickering, the other Seamen did likewise.  Bound upon the bow, Lady Victory wiggled helplessly and cried out in horror as face after empty leering face flopped down all around her tightly-bound, jiggling body.  “You super-bimbos fell for it even harder than those sorority sluts!” the Leader said, as he revealed himself to be a huge, bald, copper-skinned thug, covered in tattoos, a jeweled eye-patch, and little else. 

“What… what did you do with them?!” Ms. Americana demanded, hotly.

“Guess, sweetheart,” he said.  The huge bulge in his trunks throbbed eagerly.

Suddenly, with startling speed, the pirate leader lunged forward and took her naked, defenseless body in his arms.  Ms. Americana gasped in shock.  On cue, his men released her and stood back, but it was already too late.  Her legs had been held wide and he was already inside them.  Ms. Americana yelped as he shoved her back, slamming her big round ass up against her own control console.  Then, reaching down, he grabbed a rude handful of her silky buxom butt, while his other rose up to grip her by the back of her ravishing raven-haired head.

“Welcome to the Love Boat, gorgeous,” he said.  Then, as her eyes widened in shock, he dropped his head down… and kissed her.

Standing around and watching, the other pirates pointed and laughed.  Ms. Americana barely heard them.  Instead her mind reeled… at the feeling of her enemy’s enormous spermatozoa gangplank, grinding hard against her pussy through his speedos.  Her lips quivering in shock under his kiss, her mighty legs trembled… and then spread instinctively apart, giving the huge pirate member clearer sailing into her sopping southerly straits.  Grinning, the pirate leader gave her one last thrust of his tongue, making her moan.  Then he let go of her mouth, and reaching down, released his tremendous penis out of its prison.  It promptly snapped up and thudded unerringly into the gates of her pussy.

“Allow me to introduce myself, Ameri-bitch” he said down into Ms. Americana’s stunned, gaping face.  “My name is One Eyed Jack.  I’m gonna be captain of your pussy for the next few hours.”  And without further ado, he sent his long hard sea-serpent diving deep into her quivering watery channel.

“Oh, Great JUSTICE!!!” Ms. Americana moaned in awe, eyes staring wide up into the sky, as the pirate’s huge thick penis filled her, its tremendous girth blowing her peril-moistened mind.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the boat, bound naked and helpless Lady Victory gasped in horror as she found herself surrounded by a growing throng composed of all the rest of the pirates.  Gaping up from her back, the British blonde could not help but notice that every last pirate, from their leader to the lowliest youth, were extraordinarily well hung.  She said not a word about it… but her tongue did slip out and slowly, silently moisten her opulent, aristocratic lips.

“Now, listen here, Victory Slut,” one pirate said as he knelt over her head.  He pulled aside his speedo, and hauled out his cock to hover over her gorgeous gasping face.  “We can do this one of two ways.  The hard way and the easy way.  Cooperate, and we let you go once we’re through.  Resist, and once we’re done you go into the drink.”

Lady Victory gasped in shock at the demand.  A look of defiant outrage briefly snarled across her face.  But, as she felt the sea rolling beneath the boat, and realized her predicament, she quickly knew she had no choice.  Closing her eyes, she lifted her face up slowly.  “I surrender,” she whispered.  Lifting her quivering lips, she gave the pirate’s big hanging balls a tender, slurping kiss.  She pulled back, blushing, and looked up into his eyes past his wobbling dick.  “Consider me booty,” she said. 

Then, lifting her gorgeous face back up to his balls she kissed them again and again, while beneath her she wiggled around until she could get a bound hand beneath her ass.  There, even as her tongue plaintively licked the chuckling pirate’s scrotum, lying in the midst of a sea of his watching comrades, Lady Victory slipped two fingers up, slid them into her pussy from below and opened herself up as best she could.  Even as horny as they were, the pirates could not help themselves, and pointing down at the surrendered heroine they guffawed with triumphant laughter.  Blushing deeply, Lady Victory moaned softly… and, fingers struggling visibly, pulled herself open even in wider.

“Goddamn!” the pirate lieutenant crowed.  “I guess Brits can be slaves after all!”  Behind her Union Jack mask, Lady Victory blushed… and continued to delicately lick at his dark pirate cock.  Laughing, he reached out and seized a rude hold of both of her huge bouncing tits, pulled back until only his tip rested beneath her lapping tongue, and without another word slammed his long schlong deep inside her.  Lady Victory moaned as his veiny girth shoved its way deep down her throat, but, despite almost gagging on his immense size, began to energetically and eagerly suck. 

Moments later, one of the horny pirates finally stopped laughing long enough to beat the rest in a sudden rush towards her open waiting thighs.  Thumping down between her luscious legs, he grabbed her mighty open legs and shoved himself into the place of glory between their silky curves.  The Guardian of the Empire got only a brief caress of a large bulbous head against her trembling wide-held gates before he too slammed home, and she shuddered and moaned in awe around the dick pumping in her throat as a second even larger one slammed brutally and devastatingly up inside her fertile cunt.

For hour after long sun-baked hour Sea Justice One rocked back and forth with the throes of pirate pleasure.  Its once pristine gleaming decks were soon covered in a foul mixture of spilled booze, splattered semen, and dribbling heroine fluids.  Instead of the fearsome justice they had hoped to bring to the high seas, the voluptuous crime-fighters ended up handing the cackling pirates the equivalent of a pleasure cruise, complete with separate entertainments to satisfy their boarders’ every whim.

Upon the foredeck, tied down and having been tricked early on into complete surrender, Lady Victory provided the all-you-can-fuck buffet.  One pirate after another had his brutal way with her sloppy dripping snatch, until every last one had had her at least twice.  And from the first to the last she moaned, gasped… and pushed her buxom hips back to help him as best she could.  No sooner had one finished inside her than another waiting pirate promptly seized her, positioned himself as hastily as possible, and promptly slammed up into her.  Her only breaks came when the pirates decided to force her into another position… and, though she moaned and squirmed, her buxom jiggling body always dutifully complied as it was put onto hands and knees, or onto her side, or forced to straddle a lucky pirate and ride him herself, her buxom noble hips bouncing like she was hunting fox. 

Meanwhile, those waiting their turn in line for the all-you-can-pound pussy buffet stood around the gasping heroine’s gorgeous head, wherever that might be, and offered her awed upward-blinking face a buffet of their own.  And, despite her previous pride and defiance, Lady Victory dutifully leaned in and pleasured whatever array of penises was placed before her, her luscious lips gobbling and nibbling at their hard flesh like a land whale at the free ice cream counter.  Moaning softly her luscious British mouth twisted and darted from phallus to huge pirate phallus seemingly at random, slurping and sucking and lapping eagerly.

And, though her ultra-tight and super-humanly fertile pussy remained the prime attraction, wherever possible of course a second pirate would spread her ass cheeks and also slam up into her anus.  These depredations the moaning, sucking heroine found particularly hard to deal with.  Her head leaping up from whatever big cock she’d been sucking she would turn, gasp, and moan.  But, though she trembled and shuddered under their devastating penetrations, Lady Victory ultimately allowed the pirates as free reign in her ass as her cunt… and, turning back, as she wrapped her lips around another waiting cock and returned once more to sucking, the blushing heroine could not hide the fact that, with each new penis and each new thrust, getting fucked in the ass was increasingly starting to turn her on too.

Meanwhile, amidships, and bathed in the continuous music of moaning, slurping, and squirting that came from her conquered comrade on the bow, a snarling Ms. Americana offered the scheduled entertainment.  This was not due to any innately superior defiance within her buxom flesh or pretty head – far from it.  Unlike with Lady Victory the pirates never threatened her.  In fact, the snarling American heroine’s resistance was kept carefully, meticulously, and snickeringly cultivated at all times, allowed to tenderly regrow like a precious flower every time it was stomped down.  It was, after all, the key to her show. 

The name of said show, scrawled on a piece of paper taped just out her sight but right beside her buxom quivering hip, was “Tame the Super-Heroine – Live!” 

Her wrists bound to her console, each show started with her standing helpless and trapped in a ring of pirates.  But, despite her predicament, the mighty Queen of Justice held herself high, lifted her chin, and glared in righteous defiance at the circle of whooping pirates all around her.  Most of these were flaccid-dicked fellows taking a break after a schlong-satisfying session with the already defeated and increasingly mindlessly-compliant Englishwoman next door.  But eventually one would get it up and, under the whoops and encouraging back-pounding of his comrades, would come forward to face the defenseless yet defiant super-heroine.  And another show would be on.

The show started with a prelude.  Ms. Americana would spit insults and threats at her foe as he stood before her, either taunting her right back, or just smiling and waiting for his moment.  Finally, having worked up his courage, he would suddenly spring forward.  And, with no other way to defend herself, the snarling Ms. Americana would lash upwards with her mighty, muscular, boot-tipped leg.

That was the moment of truth.  If she hit, the pirates would soon find the challenger thudding back into their midst, rolling on his back in pain, hands upon his nuts.  He would get laughed at, and another show would have to be scheduled.

If she missed the show would go on.  Moments later, even as her errant leg caressed at his side, the pirate would seize the gasping heroine’s hips and repay her for her attack threefold with a brutal, punishing thrust right up into her unprotected pussy. 

From there it was all over but for the moaning.  The ring of watching pirates laughed and jeered, watching Ms. Americana’s body bounce helplessly as it got fucked.  At first she would grit her teeth and attempt to hiss out her continuing defiance.  But in time she could not help herself.  As the pirates whooped with glee, and several filmed with cameras stolen from her own cabin, inevitably Ms. Americana’s luscious legs would lift and wrap, trembling, around her attacker’s waist.  Though her words never ceased to proclaim the inevitability of her victory, their tone gradually changed, and they would start to ring hollow as they were stated in breathless gasps or shuddering sighs.  Towards the end, her eyes half closed, she would be assuring her foe that he would never tame her even as her head rocked back and forth in near-orgasmic pleasure.

Finally, whether the star was One Eyed Jack himself back for another fuck or the lowliest cabin boy, the show always ended the same way.  As she felt her conqueror’s cum start spurting into her pussy, the moaning Ms. Americana would be sent over the edge.  As cum began to dribble and leak from her wide-spread and deep-plowed pussy, Ms. Americana’s legs unspooled from her attacker’s waist, lifted high in the air, and began to shake uncontrollably as she came.  Then, and only then, would her defiance break and, in mid coitus, each and every time she lifted her lips up, gave her conqueror a tender kiss, and thanked him.

Moments later, when he pulled out, she gasped briefly, hauled herself back to her feet… and, standing again amidst the ring of laughing and pointing pirates she snarled defiantly… even as yet another streamer of cum flowed from her gaping, ravaged pussy.  And another show would be ready to begin.

Over and over and over Ms. Americana was defeated, and though at first she managed to nail maybe two in three as they came at her, in short order the toll of fuck after fuck left her without the strength, and perhaps the will, to keep it up.  Within a few hours, every single pirate had at least one flawless HD video of himself evading, fucking, and ultimately conquering Ms. Americana, to show his friends and relations what he’d done on his Caribbean vacation – filmed with Ms. Americana’s own high-end camera.

Meanwhile, while waiting their turns with the various heroine holes on offer, the pirates helped themselves to the large stockpile of extremely expensive liquor Brenda Wade had kept secured aboard.  Fine wines, expensive brandies, and an elite selection of craft beers were soon flowing freely, spilled liberally onto the deck and into the sea as the triumphant pirates whooped and stumbled like drunken frat boys.

Finally, although the heroine’s bodies were naturally the center of all attention early on, as the higher-ranking pirates got in fuck after fuck one by one they begin to become drained and tired, their lusts sated by the sheer abundance of bouncing buxom flesh on offer.  Tiring of the pleasures of their enemies’ flesh, they broke out the water skis.  Then, smirking, they reached down over the back of the boat… and plucked up the net they had used to foul Ms. Americana’s propeller.

Blushes of humiliation spread across both tricked heroine’s cheeks as they felt the rumble of the engines through their buxom asses, both of which were in the midst of being pressed tight to the deck by the pounding of long and devastating pirate cock.  But, with no other outlet, they could only channel their humiliation into giving their current and future paramours even more delicious sucks and fucks, as the boat began to accelerate and slalom beneath them, and, distantly, they heard One Eyed Jack whooping as he danced across the waves.

For the last few hours of the day, mighty Sea Justice One roared back and forth across the sunset-lit sea, one fuck-sated pirate after another skiing along in its wake, while upon its once-criminal-feared decks the orgy slowly but steadily began to deplete its energy upon the buxom bodies of its former heroinely crew.  Only those with truly enormous stamina, or low enough on the totem pole to have been forced into long waits earlier, were still taking their turns, rutting away their last ounces of frustration upon the now exhausted bodies of the two once-proudly-defiant super-heroines.  By this point, even Ms. Americana’s carefully cultivated resistance had run out.  Sinking to her back she joined her comrade in offering her sprawled shapely body as a sexual buffet.  Legs spread wide and hands tied pre-emptively behind her neck, she sucked one cock after another as she got fucked, her lips and tongue offering even less resistance to the plunging criminal cocks than the slick tight walls of her repeatedly ravaged pussy.

At last, as the sun began to set, the last, littlest and horniest pirate finished his final desultory fuck and stood shakily up over a squirming Ms. Americana.  He collapsed back onto a plush leather seat, a big tired grin on his face.  When asked by One Eyed Jack if he still wanted another go, he grinned lazily, sank back in his seat, and asked for a cold drink instead.  That was the cue for the party to finally end.  Sea Justice One finished towing its last skier and then slowed and stopped upon the water. 

After a long day spent filling the air with the roar of engines and the moan of conquered heroines, for a time the air was almost eerily silent.  Then the pirates emerged onto the fantail and tossed a small package overboard.  Upon hitting the water it rapidly inflated into a yellow life raft.  Then, moving back into the boat, they picked up the two heroines.  Ms. Americana and Lady Victory sighed softly, heads lolling, as their bodies were lifted from the deck.  They hung limp, huge breasts bouncing, from the arms of two burly pirates each as they were carried between them to the back of the boat.  Then, bringing Americana to the back railing they heaved her back, swung her forward and let go, hurling her out over the sea.

 “OH!  GODDESS!” Ms. Americana yelped as she went flying through the air.  She landed with a brain-jarring thump inside the raft, her buxom body bouncing off its taut rubber surfaces.  Ms. Americana came to a rest sprawled in the raft, her body sloshing and her head spinning.  Moments later, a second female wail sounded above her.  Ms. Americana cried out in shock as Lady Victory’s buxom form slammed down into the raft just beside her, semen splattering from every inch of her bound naked body.  The blonde screamed, bounced, and then also came to a rest upon her back. 

Gasping in shock, the two heroines found themselves lying side by side in the raft, their heads propped up on opposite ends and their bodies sunk down into it.  Shaking their heads to clear them, they looked up and gaped in shock to see the pirates standing in a row at the side of the boat and leering down at them.  From their vantage upon the low bobbing raft, the two heroines finally saw, with twin outraged gasps, that the name “Sea Justice One” on the back of the boat has been crossed out with paint, and the new name “Pussy Plunderer Max” crudely scrawled above it.

“Thanks for the boat bitches,” One Eyed Jack laughed, from his new seat in the captain’s chair.  “Ours  struck the reef and sank – I was kinda drunk - but we didn’t worry.  We knew we just had to wait for another load of vapid sluts to steer their jiggling asses to us!”  He leered down upon them.  “Am I psychic or what?” he cackled.

“You… you’re stranding us here?!” Ms. Americana asked.  “How… how could you?”

“Yes,” Lady Victory gasped.  “You promised not to kill us.  Don’t… don’t you want to keep us?  Or… or at least sell us as pleasure slaves?”  She squirmed in desperation, intentionally or unintentionally making her ultra-buxom curves jiggle enticingly against the equally-pneumatic surface of the raft.  “Super-heroines such as we will bring twice as much, each, as that boat will, on the black market auction blocks!”

“Sorry, slut, but your pussies are a little hotter than we’re used to handling,” Jack said, shrugging.  “We’ve had our fun with you sluts, and don’t want to sit around and listen to you yap.”  Rolling his eyes, he mimed two flapping jaws to either side of him with his hands.  Then, putting the hands back on the wheel, he leered down at them.  “We already sold off those sorority sluts for the same reason – bitches just wouldn’t stop begging for more cock.  But don’t worry…” he said, turning his head and smirking, “if we ever want to remember you sluts, we can always admire our new flags…”

On cue, a pirate spun the crank on the former Sea Justice One’s rear flag pole.  And, as the two heroines looked on, mouths dropping open in disbelief, the flag line went up… with the two heroines’ own skimpy little panties pinned to it.  The twin tiny, delicately skimpy and proudly flag-themed garments immediately caught in the wind and flapped out onto full display, mirroring almost exactly what they looked like when defiantly stretched across the buxom contours of their former owners’ fertile hips.

Then, with a final round of parting laughter down at the gaping, humiliated heroines, the pirates gunned the engine and took off.  The heroines screeched and moaned like schoolgirls as the huge gouts of white froth kicked up by the roaring speedboat made their tiny raft bob and buckle like a toy in a child’s tub.  Then they could only watch, gaping, as the mighty boat roared off into the distance, laughing pirates clustered on its fantail.  Slowly their precious craft receded into the horizon and finally vanished beneath the setting sun. 

When all sight and sound of their former craft had ceased, the two heroines slowly collapsed onto their backs.  They looked at one another across the raft.  Their lips puffy, bruised, and stained with cum, neither gasping beauty could think of anything to say.  Naked, defeated, and exhausted, lit by the setting sun, the two mighty heroines bobbed in silence upon the vast empty sea, alone.

Night set in.  A full moon cast its glow down upon them.  It might have even been romantic… save for the continuous blow of chill salty spray down onto their unprotected bodies, the shiver-inducing lashes of the wind, and the aching of their fucked-out pussies.

 “I’m so cold…” Lady Victory moaned.  A chill shiver quivered through her buxom bare flesh.

“And I’m thirsty…” Americana gasped, licking at her puffy dry lips. 

“Me too…” Lady Victory sighed.

Silence reigned for several more seconds, as the raft bobbed in the pale light of the moon.  Then, gradually, the two heroines turned and looked into each other’s eyes again.  They held one anothers’ gaze for several seconds.  Then, ever so slowly, their eyes turned down simultaneously to each others’ pussies… and the veritable torrents of vile pirate cum that continued to pour from them.  Their breaths quickening slightly, the two heroines look up into each others’ eyes again, and held each others gaze for a long moment.

No more words were said.  None needed to be.  As one, both heroines rose, bodies jiggling deliciously as they shambled awkwardly in their bonds, and came together.  A brief rubbing and struggling of huge breasts and ample asses ensued, before, after a brief whispered negotiation, in a rather fitting model of most cross-oceanic relations, Lady Victory lay down on her back in the center of the raft and Ms. Americana awkwardly straddled her.

“Oh!  Yes!”  Ms. Americana gasped softly, as Lady Victory’s tongue slid up into her pussy.  The blonde said nothing; she was too busy eagerly mining more dollops of warm, sticky cum from the American heroine’s channel.  Then, hips rolling with pleasure, Ms. Americana dove down eagerly between the blonde’s powerful, invitingly spread thighs, and slid her own tongue in.

“Mmm!!!” Lady Victory warbled with helpless pleasure as she felt her ally’s tongue enter and begin licking at her… even as she continued to munch desperately on Ms. Americana’s rug.

For hours the two heroines bobbed upon the dark sea, bodies writhing, as they eagerly and tirelessly ate out each other’s pussies.  Every once in a while one pulled her head back briefly, and gasped.

“Moisture!” Ms. Americana moaned once, licking her cum-slathered tongue eagerly over her lips, before, wiggling in delight at the counterpart in her own pussy, she put her head back down and eagerly dove back in.

“So sticky and warm!” Lady Victory sighed, dropping her head back down into the raft.  She licked her lips, savoring both the cum rolling in her mouth and the caress of Americana’s luscious hot body against her own.  They lay breast to belly, the better to share their precious warmth… among other things.  Then, as she lay back, catching her breath, Ms. Americana’s hips wiggled plaintively above her… dislodging a dollop of cum to splatter down onto Lady Victory’s mask.  Gasping, the blonde extended her tongue and managed to lap it up and bring it inside, and, closing her eyes, savored and then swallowed.  Then, with an eager gasp she crammed her head back up between Americana's thighs, and sent her tongue diving deep once again, rubbing the sides of Americana’s pussy like sandpaper as she tried to get at every last bit of cum.

Such was the heroines’ desperation and diligence, that even as dawn broke and its golden rays speared down upon them, the moaning heroines continued to be utterly absorbed in their work… and in each other.  So much so, even, that they failed to notice the approach of another vessel… until, that is, it let out a sudden blast of its deafening foghorn.

Gasping in shock but remaining locked together, both heroines' heads looked up to gape at the sight of a huge tramp freighter looming over them.  Ms. Americana’s head flew up to hang, mouth agape, directly over the blonde’s glistening pussy… her lips still guiltily dripping with cum.  Lady Victory, meanwhile, craned her head to peek around Americana’s thigh, her eyes wide.

“Oh, thank the Goddess!  We’re saved!” Ms. Americana said, shuddering with relief.  Then she saw the freighter’s crew, gathered along the railing… pointing and leering.  More than a few had video cameras.  “I… I guess…” she added, swallowing.

“Quite…” Lady Victory said, squirming.

Sometime later the two heroines found themselves lounging in deck chairs upon a broad and sturdy steel deck, lying in the sun.  Each beautiful heroine lay back luxuriously upon her chair, empty fruit drinks in their hands.  Their bodies, though naked, had been bathed clean.  In the warm sun their silky flesh seemed almost to glow with warmth.  Despite themselves they squirmed upon the chairs, cooing softly, enjoying their relative comfort after the long cramped cold ride in the raft.

“Well, all things considered, this isn’t so bad…” Ms. Americana said.

“Yes, I suppose that’s true…” Lady Victory sighed.

Then, as one, both slowly and obediently spread their long legs, allowing the two waiting, burly, greasy deck-hands to step up and take their place.  They undid their pants, and the two heroines’s lips dropped and gasped in shock as they saw the surprising size and girth of their first two customers.  Then, grabbing the heroines by their unresisting thighs, the two hulking men maneuvered into position and, sharing smug smirks with each other, simultaneously slammed home.

“Oh!  Great Goddess!” both heroines yelped as one as they got brutally entered yet again.  Despite all that had happened to them their pussies promptly began to juice eagerly around the two deckhands’ thick, deep, brutally pumping members.

“Ah, good!  Having funsies already, ladies?” the Captain said as he appeared from a row between two containers and strutted up to stand over them.  Heads shuddering with pleasure, the heroines looked up at him and blushed.  His accent was thick and hard to pin down, just like the two penises rampaging inside them.  Grinning, the captain held up a clip board.  “I make checklist.  All crew listed, plus spaces for number of times fuck mask girls, and also level of pleasure, and for complying to the requests without question.  All men satisfied, we give you free passage, give tapes back, and no tell press anything.”  His smile darkened.  “Anyone unhappy we tie you bitches to dock, call film crews, and leave tape of pussy-licking gift-wrapped in front of you.  Any questions?”

“Y-yes!” Ms. Americana moaned, as her body started to shudder helplessly with steadily pumping passion.  “How… how many days is it to Bangkok again?”

“Many!” the Captain laughed.  Turning he strutted away from whence he came.  “Have fun sluts!  See you tonight in my cabin!” he called over his shoulder.  Then he was gone.

To either side of the heroine’s deck chairs, a long line of deck hands impatiently waited their turns.  To the shipping containers above each heroine’s head had been pinned crude signs, reading “Ship’s Slut #1” and “Ship’s Slut #2” respectively.   “Well… well… look at it this way,” Lady Victory moaned, her voice rising and falling in pitch with each thrust of her skilled but brutal Malay paramour.  “At… at… at least we got a bigger boat!”  Ms. Americana, her lips claimed by her own powerful Filipino lover, could only moan in response… her moan rising steadily as his deep plowing made her come. 

More sighs and gasps of pleasure echoing softly down its immense deck, the tramp freighter Deep Passage turned slowly and ponderously out into the open ocean, and began what would eventually go down in its captain’s log as the slowest and yet most pleasurable circumnavigation it had ever performed.

 

 

 

SUMMARY:  Lady Victory and Ms. Americana look for some sorority girls who disappeared at sea.  Their boat gets disabled and they find themselves surrounded by sea monsters.  They are forced to pay tribute for ‘trespassing’ in the creatures’ domain, first by taking off their bikinis and dropping them over the side, then, after being promised their species are mutually infertile, by tying each other up and waiting to get boarded.  To their horror, they then discover their attackers are actually human pirates in disguise.  The pirates enjoy both the heroines’ pussies and their boat, then dump the former over the side into a life raft and take off in the latter.  Stranded at sea, the heroines survive by licking pirate cum out of each-others’ snatches.  Finally they get picked up by a passing freighter.  Rescued, they buy the crews’ silence by agreeing to be the ship's sluts for the duration of the voyage.