Disclaimer: all characters and situations featured belong to their original creators and not myself, this is purely a work of parody intended for free internet distribution.
Summary: I think I've been a fan of superheroine GOT-fic since I watched Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman as a little kid. Much as I loved her and always knew she would win in the end there was just some form of strange delight in seeing her tied up, knocked out, hypnotized, transformed into a robot double/living waxwork, enslaved by her own lasso etc (which pretty much happened in every single EP frankly). And Lynda Carter in 1978 is pretty much the most beautiful woman ever! So inspired by Mr X and some of the other writers on the story section I decided to write this, hope you like it. Please check out their work if you ever fantasized about any superheroine (and you're not human if you haven't) you'll be delighted I assure you.
Please note all characters are 16/17/18 whatever the age of consent is where you are everyone is above it. This is a work of fiction, in real life always practice safe sex.
Miss Americana: Miss Americana (And Fluffy The Vampire Hunter) Meet The Pimpmaster Part 1
by Jack B Nimble
Miss American strutted along the streets of Sugartown, her amazing figure straining as always against her skimpy costume, her mighty breasts jiggling as she walked. Her beautiful face was filled with concern. Over the past month all the long time pimps had gone out of business. Kid Rotten, King Pimp and all the rest had sold up and abandoned their old turf. There was a new pimp in town. He called himself the 'Pimpmaster' and so far he had more than lived up to his name.
She caught sight of herself in a shop window. Looking good. Long shapely legs in stilettos, pert, heart-shaped ass that would make Jennifer Lopez envious. Perfect breasts the size of bowling balls all finished off by her long mane of raven black hair. In addition to her high heels she wore an American flag cut into the briefest of micro-bikinis, matching elbow gloves and an eyemask to hide her everyday identity of millionairess Brenda Wade. It was important to show people that being a powerful, independent woman didn't mean you had to be any less feminine. Pride of place was her golden powerbelt, worn around her tiny waist and providing her with her super strength and other powers.
Cries of ecstasy echoed from a nearby alleyway. It was a sound all too familiar to Miss Americana on the streets of Sugartown, a hooker discreetly servicing her client in some back street.
She turned and crept along the alleyway. The client was some fat guy perched on top of a trashcan. His hooker was an amazingly beautiful brunette; her hair tied into a severe ponytail. Even by the standards of Sugartown she wore a daring costume. The black PVC stiletto heeled thigh boots were standard issue for a street whore as were the matching black PVC elbow gloves. But her torso was covered only by what looked like a black PVC corset with holes cut in the front to totally expose her huge, shapely breasts, a thin length of material cutting sharply up between her pert ass cheeks. Oddly her thigh boots thigh boots were a very practical garment, protecting her knees as she knelt before her trick, sucking and licking with obvious skill and enthusiasm, stroking his balls and lower shaft of his cock with her PVC clad hands. She looked oddly familiar although Miss Americana couldn't think where from, maybe she had busted her before? The problem with the justice system was many of the hookers she captured were out again on the street by the next day, fucking for money all the harder to pay their pimp back for the cost of the bail and high-priced lawyer that had been provided. It was an endless merry-go-round she could never win. She had to admit she was beginning to tire of it.
"Another Aphrodite gene recipient" Miss Americana thought. She wondered at the kismet of a city with such a notorious reputation for prostitution being the result of a scientific experiment gone wrong that had created thousands of incredibly gorgeous, supernaturally voluptuous women. Still it had also provided it with equally buxom and sexy superheroines such as her to balance things out. And her looks were always handy in distracting criminals, she'd sometimes captured entire teams of muggers without resistance whilst they'd just sat there and gawked at her.
Men were so weak. And disgusting.
She stood there and watched the hooker pleasuring her customer with obvious relish. Much as she tried to deny it the sight made her hotter and wetter than an Alabama thunderstorm.
"Traitors," she thought as she felt her nipples harden under the string bikini she wore as the top half of her superheroine costume. Serruptisously she found herself stroking her mighty breasts, toying, stroking and gently pinching her swollen nipples through the flimsy material. She could feel her cunny moistening too, getting increasingly wet at the erotic sight she was witnessing. She felt shame wash over her, that she could be aroused by the sight of a woman being sexually humiliated in such a way, enjoying pleasuring a man for money in some dark back alley. It was against everything she believed in about women's inherent superiority to men. All the same she couldn't resist slipping two fingers beneath her bikini bottoms, though her lightly shaved pubic hair and into her cunny, just to make sure she really was getting amazingly wet. One drawback about being an Aphrodite was that you could be turned on at the drop of a hat, sometimes against your will.
Before she knew it she was stroking her cunny lips tenderly with her fingertips then seeking out her clitty, now engorged and throbbing with desire. She bit her lip to suppress her cry of pleasure as the trick came with a guttural cry, emptying what seemed like gallons of cum down the throat of the hooker who swallowed greedily, traces of cum leaking out of the sides of her mouth. Miss Americana came climaxed a second later, shuddering and trembling with delight.
She came to her senses as the trick pulled up his trousers, handed a wad of cash to her whore and sauntered off down the alleyway. As the hooker stood up she realized with shock where she knew her from.
"Detective Adina Massely! I know you're undercover but surely this is too far!"
The beautiful policewoman shrugged and smiled at her. "Not any more. I used to be a policewoman pretending to a whore. Now I'm a whore who pretends to be a policewoman." She flashed Miss Americana her 'Pimp-stamp' a small tattoo on her outer thigh that all Sugartown whores bore. It marked her out as the property of a specific pimp, informing clients, other pimps and whores and the police he paid off that she was under his protection. She could also use it to get free bed and board at any of the many cheap hotels that littered Sugartown, renting out rooms by the hour, ordering in take-out and fucking the delivery boys as payment. And most of all it showed she was owned, that she was the possession of her pimp and that he was her master and she his utterly devoted slave. To Miss Americana's horror she'd seen more and more high-school girls and female college students beginning to wear 'Pimp-stamps' as a trendy fashion accessory. She'd even caught a troop of girl scouts giving one another home made versions. As her alter-ego of millionairess Brenda Wade there were more than a few wealthy men she encountered whose beautiful trophy wives had suspicious looking tattoo removal scars on their thighs. But she guessed you couldn't work the streets forever. This was a new one on her, a heart ensnared by 2 criss-crossing chains. She wondered if it was the Pimpmaster's symbol?
"How could this happen to you? You were top of your class at the police academy?"
"Yeah but I was never really happy. This way I get to have all the sex I want, earn loads of money and men want me. I love pleasing men and I love pleasing my pimp even more. Right baby?"
Miss Americana jumped as the figure emerged from the shadows. It had to be him; it had to be the Pimpmaster. He wore the traditional pimps clothing, fur coat, white suit, fancy spats and bejeweled cane. He was adorned with 'bling', fancy gold and diamonds. To top it all he wore a fedora hat with a leopard-skin hatband and a feather sticking out of it. Looking down the street behind him Miss Americana could see what she was sure was his car, a hulking great Cadillac fitted with every adornment 'Pimp my ride' had ever dreamed off.
There was one more thing she hadn't counted on.
He was so goddamn handsome. He had the kind of brutal good looks women just fell over themselves for and even Miss Americana herself felt a pang of lust when she gazed upon him. He stood at least 6 feet four and his clothing couldn't hide the solid mass of sculpted muscle underneath.
The former female cop sauntered over and they embraced and kissed passionately. Despite herself Miss Americana felt a sense of jealousy at the sight. Even when he slapped her firmly on her pert ass cheek and sent her sent her on her way with an excited yelp she still felt a desire, as though she wished it was her being embraced, kissed then spanked. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in another's arms, been kissed or had any sort of physical contact or passion with another. She ached for it sometimes more than she liked to admit.
She expected him to speak to her but was infuriated when he ignored her and called after his hooker "Move your ass bitch, you got a lot more money to earn for me tonight!"
"Sure thing baby," she grinned, strutting away, blowing him a kiss as she went off to find more men willing to pay to fuck her for the benefit of her pimp.
"How did you do it, she's a modern, strong independent woman!" Miss Americana objected.
The Pimpmaster smiled at her. "I have an arrangement with the Captain Ratso. Every year I go through the female recruits at the Police Academy and select the most beautiful. He sends them undercover as hookers, telling them to infiltrate my harem and within a week they're addicted to the street life and I've got them broken and tamed. They come to take me down but instead end up as my loyal street whores, sucking cocks and selling their delectable cunnies and asses on the street for my pleasure. And profit."
Miss Americana shook her head "You're disgusting! You belong behind bars!"
"How so? With all the information they give the police from pillow talk crime is way down. When's the last time you had to deal with any street crime? They do more fighting crime as my submissive hookers than they ever did as lady cops."
Miss Americana pursed her lips. He was right, damnit. Since he'd arrived she couldn't remember the last time she'd had to deal with any criminals; they'd all been locked up. The streets of the city were now safer for the citizens than ever before.
The Pimpmaster looked smug, realizing he'd scored a point with her.
"It's still wrong" she objected, "Treating a woman like that."
"Is that why you were touching yourself at the sight of her? Wishing it were you on your knees sucking cocks for cash?"
Miss American blushed. "You...you saw that?"
The Pimpmaster smiled at her discomfort then looked deadly serious "I have a proposal for you. I'll give up being a pimp, set all my whores free and end Sugartown's reputation as a den of vice."
She looked at him warily "What's the catch?"
"In return you have to give yourself to me, utterly and completely for one night. If at the end of the night you still want me to give everything up I will."
She laughed "You have to be joking."
He looked at her, surpassed. "Aren't you the one who wanted to free all the Sugartown whores and abolish prostitution?"
She nodded "I'd give my life to do it!"
"I'm not asking you to do that. I'm asking you give yourself to me for one night and it will be the all over. Everything you've worked for all these years would be accomplished and you can go back to your knitting circle or whatever you do to work off all that sexual tension you're carrying around."
"Sexual tension? You're out of your mind!"
He indicated her barely there outfit. "Yeah and of course you wear 2 handkerchiefs and a prayer because you like to fit in. Face it, it just screams, "Hey there big boy come fuck me senseless at the earliest opportunity!"
"It does not! It's there to distract men so I can overpower them!" she was getting really angry now.
"Keep telling yourself that babe, you might almost believe it," he decided to change the subject, "Lost your dad at an early age didn't you?"
Miss Americana was taken aback by his sympathetic tone, "I was 7."
He nodded. "Thought so, daddy issues. Every single one of my girls has them. Every hooker, porn star and stripper I ever met has them, looking for the attention and affection from men they never got from their father."
"That's not true!" she objected.
"Prove it," he goaded her.
She wavered. He was right godamnit. He was offering to give her everything she'd ever wanted in exchange for her body for just one night. If she turned him down she'd be revealed to all as a hypocrite. Still she was suspicious. "How do I know I won't end up naked and plastered all over the Internet?"
He shook his head. "I give you my word as a pimp."
She shook with mirth, "Your word as a pimp? That's worth exactly cuckoo spit!"
"Not at all. On the street your word is your bond, to your girls and your clients. If I break it no one would ever work with me again and I'd have to get out of the pimp business. So which is it? Cleanse Sugartown of pimps and whores and tricks forever or keep on going on a pointless crusade against human nature? This is a limited time offer."
He held out his hand, nodding towards his pimpmobile.
Miss Americana hesitated for a moment. It was now or never. If she did this tonight then she'd won, cleaned up Sugartown for good. If she refused her chance might never come again. But what if he succeeded and won her over, making her into his pliant whore? No, she was a superheroine, a strong, self-reliant woman who needed no man to complete her. Tonight he would attempt to make her his slave but instead she would bring him to his knees.
The threw her shoulders back, tossing her hair backwards as she did so and adopting the classic superheroine pose, hands on hips, haughty and arrogant. "Do you worst!"
She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the caddy.
He smiled at her wickedly, "Oh no baby, I'm going to do my very best with you."
* * *
His apartment was exactly what she thought it would be. Lot's of marble and gilt gold fittings. Shag-pile carpet and numerous sheepskin rugs. In one corner was a tremendous hot tub, in the other a huge circular bed in garish colours. There were lava lamps everywhere. She vaguely wondered why all pimps seemed to be unable to accept that the 70s ever died? Except for the TV of course, which was so large, it actually took up an entire wall of the huge room.
"I'll be back in moment," he told her, walking into a side room.
She caught him by the shoulder. "Where are you going?"
He gestured to the ceiling. "I have hidden cameras. I'm going to turn them off."
God! She hadn't thought of that. Still it proved he was serious about keeping his word.
There were two beautiful young girls slumbering naked in each other's arms in his massive bed. Pimpmaster pulled back the covers and woke them both with a hearty slap of their shapely asses. They both gave an excited squeal and twisted around on their knees to kiss their master, utter devotion in their eyes. One was a beautiful petite blonde with an incredible figure, gorgeous, shapely big titties almost too big for her tiny frame. The other was a brunette, equally beautiful and buxom but taller with long, shapely legs that would grace a ballerina. They showed no bashfulness about appearing utterly naked before her. Bellow the throbbing red handprints his spanks had left on their pert buttocks Miss Americana could make out a heart-in-chains tattoo on their thighs identical to the one she had seen the cop-whore wear on the street, marking them as the undisputed property of the Pimpmaster.
He took their ample breasts casually in his hands, squeezing, cupping, kneading the firm, supple flesh. Their nipples swelled to hard, engorged points, which he gently rolled between finger and thumb, stroking and lightly pinching. Long groans of wanton pleasure emanated from both girls. Miss Americana couldn't believe the brazen sexiness of it all. Nor could she turn her eyes away as both girls slowly parted their thighs as if to make way for something, a glint of moisture clearly visible on the lips of their closely shaved cunnies.
"Please...master....PLEASE!" they begged breathlessly.
He shifted his hands downwards allowing them to both frantically grind their pelvises against his nimble fingers. Their synchronized cries of ecstasy echoed through the room as they climaxed together, shaking with the fury of a truly great mutual orgasm. Miss Americana watched mesmerized. She felt an uncontrollable urge to join them in their self-pleasure and had to fight it with all her might to remain composed. At the same time she felt a sense of wonder at how easily, almost effortlessly the Pimpmaster had brought both girls off within less than a minute. She began to think that she had severely underestimated him.
The girls buried their heads into the Pimpmaster's muscular chest, their arms nearly unable to circle his tree-trunk like torso. Miss American noted him softly stroking the lovely crimson marks his spanking had made on their backsides, eliciting soft contented moans and sighs from them both. She'd often heard that the pimps maintained their hold upon their girls by giving them incredible affection mixed with cruelty. Watching them here she could almost feel envy for these beautiful young hookers held tightly in their pimp's arms. She couldn't remember the last time a man had held her with passion and desire. In fact she couldn't remember the last time anyone had. A pang of sadness and regret echoed through her heart.
He kissed them both, petting their hair tenderly. "Hit the streets girls. There's john's to fuck and money to be made before sunrise."
The girls nodded and began to dress.
"You can still give us a lift back to Snowydale in the morning?" the blonde girl asked as he walked towards the bathroom.
"No problem," he gave a lavacious wink towards Miss Americana, "I'm sure it won't take too long to break in the new girl."
She looked at him with daggers in her eyes but he simply sauntered off into the bathroom without a care in the world.
She turned back to the teenage hookers who to her surprise were already dressed. They wore the traditional Sugartown hooker outfits; scandalously short latex dresses strategically cut to expose the maximum of cleavage and other skin. Both finished their outfits off with skimpy matching thongs and glossy black 3-inch stripper heels.
"That was quick," Miss Americana observed.
"Come off just as fast," the brunette giggled.
"You're the real deal, right? The real Miss Americana, right?" the petite blonde extended her hand, "Fluffy Winters, the Vampire Hunter."
Miss Americana shook it, "You're a superheroine?"
"Of a sort. Never really felt the need for a costume. Although now that I see yours maybe I should, it would drive my tricks wild!" she gestured to the brunette who was also shaking Miss Americana's proffered hand. "This is Kelly Winters, my little sister."
Miss Americana was open mouthed with shock. It was nothing however compared to her surprise as Kelly took hold of her momentous right breast and began to gently caress it. "Man get a load of these!"
"God yes!" Fluffy echoed, lustfully handling Miss Americana's left breast. "Sweet juicy melons!"
Miss Americana felt her breath grow shallower and more ragged, her nipples hardening once more and her cunny moistening. It took all her willpower to gently but firmly pry their hands away.
"So you've got the Aphrodite gene too?"
"No, that's a Sugartown thing, not Snowydale," Kelly smiled, cupping her superb breasts in her hands, "These are the result of magic, a fun byproduct of having our youth magically restored."
"Huh?" Miss Americana wondered but forgot all about it when she heard.
"So you're going to be the Pimpmaster's new bitch?" Fluffy asked pleasantly.
"NO!" Miss Americana declared emphatically, "I'm going to tame him and then make him let all his whores go. You'd better get ready to go back to school."
"Oh, we still go to school," Kelly told her, "In fact I'll be joining Fluffy at college in a little while. We just do this at the weekend, still study and fight evil during the week. Both got straight A's last term."
Miss Americana shook her head, "You're obviously intelligent, tough young women. Why on earth do you let the Pimpmaster treat you like this?"
"Treat us like what? We get to have loads of sex and make piles of money?" Kelly objected.
Miss Americana decided to try another tack, "Why do you need him, though? You've got superpowers, you can look after yourself."
"Just feels nice to be taken care off," Fluffy replied, "Nice sometimes to not have to act like a superheroine for once."
"And guys want us," Kelly added. "Our dad walked out on us a few years back..."
"Daddy issues," Miss Americana realized. She found that more than a little disturbing.
The Pimpmaster returned, now swathed in a gold lam'e dressing gown with 'P' and 'M' monogrammed into the chest. Fluffy took the hint and kissed Miss Americana lightly on the lips, standing on her tippy-toes in order to do so. "Bye-bye. I'd say I hope you have fun but I'm certain you will."
Kelly kissed her too, "See you later...on the corner selling your goodies with the rest of us!"
Miss American was speechless. The sisters left the apartment, hand in hand, eager for their night of working as sluts for hire to begin. They both gave Miss Americana a friendly smile and little wave as they left. In spite of her reservations Miss Americana found herself smiling and waving back. She found she actually felt a lot of affection for the saucy pair of siblings. And not a little desire...
"Alone at last," the Pimpmaster declared with an evil grin.
"Here goes nothing," thought Miss Americana.
* * *
Will the Miss Americana tame the Pimpmaster? Or will she end up selling her goodies on the street beside Fluffy and Kelly? Who is the Pimpmaster and where does he get his power over women? Will the other Superheroines of Sugartown fall under his spell? Find out in part 2