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.
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.
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, hypnotised, 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.
Our story so far. Miss Americana has been broken and tamed by the Pimpmaster and is now his consort. Join her as she embraces her new life working on the streets of Sugartown.
Miss Americana: Miss Americana (And Fluffy The Vampire Hunter) Meet The Pimpmaster Part 3 (MF,oral)
by Jack B Nimble
It was typical night for her. After finishing the last of her afternoon clients off she'd strut over to the Pimpmaster's strip club, the 'Watering Ho', it's emblem his chained heart in six foot high neon over the front of the club. She never tired of the audiences' adoration or their roars of approval as she danced around the pole and removed her bikini top or bottoms. The biggest roar however was always when she removed her mask, that whipped them into a frenzy even more that her titanically perfect titties, amazing ass or close shaven cunny. The other strippers would sometimes don the classic sex fantasy outfits, the nurse, the schoolgirl, the policewoman, stewardess and French maid. But no one ever requested that for her, everyone just loved to keep her in the Miss Americana outfit. Or rather loved to keep her stripping off her Miss Americana outfit. She always topped the bill, every night.
After her performance she would work her way through the long line of customers queuing for a private dance. Once their cash was exhausted she would retire to the VIP lounge where she would provide 'extras', hand jobs and blowjobs to all comers.
They shut the club in the early hours, oddly not for the sex and stripping but because of the liquor license. Miss Americana would then hit the streets with her fellow strippers to work as hookers, strutting the sidewalks and loitering together on the corners of Sugartown, tottering on their high heels, their lycra mini-dresses clinging to their shapely bodies.
Her first client of the night just wanted to a suckjob and to fuck her cowgirl style in the front seat of his car. Her second fucked her hard against the wall of an alley then ass-fucked her across the hood of his Cadillac. The third wanted a room. A quick flash of the pimpstamp tattoo on her thigh got them a free room at any Sugartown motel for an hour. Whores used their pimpstamps not only to get a private space to entertain clients but to grab a quick shower in between tricks, repaying the desk clerks with a freebie in return for their services provided, exchanging use of their bodies for bed and board. 'Banging for pizza' was also a nightly occurrence, ordering fast food delivered to their rooms and fucking the delivery boys to earn it rather than giving up any hard won cash. Or banging for burgers. Or Chinese food or Thai or Italian....
She entertained half a dozen more tricks before daylight before joining her fellow working girls at a dinner for a well-deserved breakfast. After all, a girl couldn't live on her customer's cum alone. It was nice to never have to diet either, they could eat everything they wanted and still stay trim, burning off all the calories through their nightly sexual marathons. As the city woke up and business tailed off they tiredly made their way back to her pimp's penthouse. There they would lounge in the hot tub together, enjoying gossiping about their customers and fellow ho's, drinking a pitcher of margaritas and massaging one another's dainty feet, aching from a long night in high heels. Inevitably it would turn into a huge lesbian orgy, the hookers finding one another just as irresistible as their clients did.
Eventually Miss Americana would crawl into her pimps' gigantic bed and fall asleep, her magnificent body pressed against his muscular form on one side and the voluptuous flesh of her fellow hookers on the other, getting plenty of rest for the lunchtime rush when the sexy cycle would begin again. They'd take some time off or course, normally to make porn. 'Miss American and Friends do Sugartown Part 12' was currently top selling porn DVD in the world.
Miss Americana had never known such happiness in her life.
She stood on the corner and watched as Lady Midnight and Azure Angel stepped into the basketball team's tour bus. They'd have hired her and the other's too but just couldn't afford it, despite her suprisingly competitive rates. As the bus pulled away she could see through the back window that Azure Angel was already naked and being gangbanged. She didn't need to see it to know that the same fate was already befalling Lady Midnight. And that both were enjoying every minute of it!
She was glad when Fluffy and Kelly joined her, Kelly in a sexy schoolgirls outfit and Fluffy in a Girl Scout uniform cut down to the bare essentials.
"Been teasing Le Voleur again?" Miss Americana asked.
"Nothing like bringing joy to the old folks home" Kelly smiled. "I still can't believe the staff buy our story about being his great-granddaughters."
"I really think they probably don't care," Miss Americana observed, "Probably just like to see you turn up, helping the aged."
"Looks like you've got business honey," Fluffy told her sister as another car pulled up, the driver gesturing to the teenage prostitute with the large roll of dollars in his hand. "Don't be too late, we've got to get back to Snowydale for school tomorrow."
Kelly nodded and gave Fluffy a little kiss and then strutted towards her latest client. As Fluffy watched her go, a carload of frat boys arrived, honking their horn and beckoning to her in the time honoured fashion.
"Duty calls," she told Miss Americana. They kissed and then she hopped into the back seat of the vehicle, spreading herself across the laps of her knew clients.
Miss Americana was alone for a minute on the cold street corner. It was after Christmas and a few days before payday so customers were pretty thin on the ground. She loved to stand on the street corner in her tottering high heels, flaunting her magnificent body, gossiping with her fellow whores. Normally when she was cold she'd have a client to warm her up or just enjoy the willing body of one of her sister hookers.
As if on cue the Pimpmaster pulled up in his caddy.
"Hi honey," Miss Americana smiled, leaning in the window. They kissed long and deeply. It was only when they broke away that Miss Americana noticed who was sitting in the passenger seat.
She vaguely recognized her. Her name was April something, a pretty, spiky, broken-wing runaway who'd taken a job as a waitress at the 'Watering Ho', as voluptuous as she was petite. She'd formerly been the lead singer in a rock band. Americana always found the non-stripping staff staring at her covertly, fascinated. Many pretty girls would take a simple serving job at the club claiming that was as far as they'd go. Within a week they'd be dancing and disrobing on the stage, their envy of the money and attention the strippers received irresistible. Eventually it wouldn't be enough for them anymore and they'd join Miss Americana and the other whores on the street corners, their pimpstamp tattoos still fresh on their smarting hips. The streets of Sugartown safer than ever before, whatever fate befell the Pimpmaster's hookers she or the Pimpmaster or Fluffy would always rescue them. Or they would inevitably rescue one another, Selena the Teenage Witch having proven especially useful in undoing whatever dark magic, which befell any of them. These days of course she preferred to be referred to as Selena the Teenage Bitch.
Now April was clad in a two piece leopard skin outfit, a strapless bikini top with matching hot pants and high heeled knee boots. Her previously dirty blonde hair was now dyed the blondest of blonde, her face voluptuously made up. Her eyes had their usual dark eye shadow but it was the look within them that really caught her attention. It was the familiar post-orgasm afterglow of a woman who had just been momentously fucked into submission and was now at her most satiated and obedient, more demure and suggestible than ever before, overloaded by their female hormones and base desires. She had seen it many times in the girls the Pimpmaster had brought to her. Before they had time to recover she'd had them working the street, bedding up to a dozen clients in their first night, everyone always eager to try out the new girl on offer. If they ever did regain their senses they found themselves addicted to selling their bodies and never looked back, totally enthralled and utterly content to be so. She remembered helping the Pimpmaster enslave an entire team of high school senior of cheerleaders, a whole troop of adult Girl Scouts and the prettiest of the final year of a Catholic girl's boarding school. She still treasured the memory of the eight wonderfully submissive schoolgirls bending over to touch their toes before her, their short blue skirts riding up, exposing their long, shapely, white knee sock clad legs and toned asses, their flimsy white panties drawn tight between their pert ass-cheeks for the thong effect. She had spanked them ruthlessly until their hips were a lovely shade of scarlet and they were crying out, begging her to stop. So she had spanked them some more until they had cried out in the fury of their orgasms, their panties wet with arousal, begging her to continue.
Miss Americana and the Pimpmaster exchanged no words. They weren't needed. She took April's hand and helped her out of the car, blowing a kiss to her pimp as he roared away.
"You're Miss Americana aren't you?" April asked, "Or do you prefer Brenda Wade?"
She nodded. "I'm fine with both. I don't have to make any pretence anymore. I can be myself at last."
"Don't you ever miss being your old life?"
Miss Americana shook her head. "I do more good here than I ever did before. Do you know where a woman's real power comes from?"
April shook her head. Faster than the eye could follow her hand had sneaked under April's top and was massaging her bountiful breasts, stroking, caressing and gently pinching her achingly swollen nipples. Oh yes, she was an Aphrodite alright, her breasts didn't compare to Americana's but they would still give Playguy's Buxom Beauties a serious case of cleavage envy. April moaned unashamedly at her expert touch, moans that only grew louder as Americana's free hand slipped down her leopard skin hot pants and began to toy with her soaking wet clitty and cunny lips using her fingertips. She wantonly ground herself against Americana's hand, her breath growing slower and more laboured, slowly parting her legs as though making way for something, something she craved desperately.
As if on cue one of her regular clients. Miss Americana was glad to see him, she knew he was nothing great to look at but a good tipper and had the sweetest big cock. She'd forgotten his real name but nicknamed him Frankie Tripod. She led an unresisting April into his car, her young charge still in a state of sexual enrapture.
"Sorry," her regular trick told her, "I don't think I can afford you both."
She smiled at him, knowing how important it was to get April accustomed to her new role in life as soon as possible. She felt attracted to this beautiful young girl but also protective of her. But she knew that whatever fate befell her, not matter how bizarre or extreme, she and the Pimpmaster's other girls would always rescue her, just as they'd always rescued Got Gal, Sarah Craft, Fluffy and Kelly and Selena. That was one of the best things about being a street whore, they took care of one another, "Don't worry baby, this is a two for one freebie."
* * *
They walked into the Sugartown motel together, Miss Americana and April arm in arm with Frankie Tripod. April reached into her cute little leopard skin handbag and produced a roll of dollars. Americana slapped her hand away.
"Show him your pimpstamp," she told her sternly.
April looked confused for a moment but then hiked up her leopard skin hot pants, showing the fresh tattoo of the Pimpmaster's symbol on her hip. The desk clerk looked at her approvingly. "Oh, you belong to the Pimpmaster, right?"
"Yep," Miss Americana confirmed.
"Sure do," April agreed enthusiastically, embracing the special status that being owned by the Pimpmaster gave her. The clerk handed over the room key.
"Remember, you'll have to fuck him in return for that later," Miss Americana reminded her.
April shrugged, "No problem, the more the merrier."
Miss Americana grinned and tousled April's hair in an affectionate gesture. Ah, the enthusiasm of slutty youth!
They entered their room and sat Frankie Tripod on the bed.
"What do you desire my lord?" Miss Americana asked breathlessly.
"Strip for me!" he ordered firmly.
He watched with lustful desire as April and Miss Americana took turns in stripping one another's clothes off, kissing each other's naked bodies all over, taking turns on suckling on one another's swollen nipples and gargantuan breasts. He managed to wait until they were in the 69 position, gleefully licking out one another's dripping cunnies until he could contain himself no more and leapt on top of them. As he nuzzled his head between Miss Americana's huge titties she noted with satisfaction that April was already sucking on his 10-inch cock with instinctive skill and enthusiasm, greedily gulping down his seed like there was no tomorrow.
* * *
A few hours later they were back on the street again, showered, considerably richer and aching for some more action. It wasn't long in coming, a carload of horny teenagers rounding their assigned corner.
"Go on," Miss Americana told her.
"You're not coming with me?" April asked, sounding disappointed.
Miss Americana shook her head, stroking the side of April's face, tenderly "You don't need me, you're a natural. Just remember to use your pimpstamp, keeps you safe and gets you plenty of stuff for free. Be sure to bring back the Pimpmaster plenty of money."
April smiled at her and made her way to the car, Miss Americana having no doubt she'd break the bank before daybreak.
* * *
Miss Americana looked around her with delight. She pressed her amazing naked body against the Pimpmaster's Hercules-like muscled form. The other girls took turns sleeping on his left but she was always his right-hand girl. Tonight it was April's turn, everyone delighted at the ton of cash she had earned during her first night of hooking. The other girls clustered around them, all stark naked and astonishingly beautiful. Kelly's head was resting on Fluffy's shoulders, the sisters the picture of innocence and contentment. The other hookers often commented on how the Snowydale girls constantly needed to be rescued, Selena the Teenage Bitch sometimes drained of magic for days after curing whatever had happened to them. But they always showed their thanks in the most wonderful way possible licking out the other girls until they lost the ability to scream out their climaxes. Much as Fluffy was the superhero they all agreed when it came to cunny licking Kelly had the superpowers. Of course naturally enough Fluffy was extremely skilful with her fists. And not just for fighting.....
She looked around her. It was good that they always looked after one another. This was her new life now and she had to admit she loved it. She was always intended to end up with the Pimpmaster, they were literally made for one another, both the result of genetic experiments to create the perfect masculine man and ultimate feminine woman. She sometimes wondered about her time as a superheroine, was she really just secretly looking for the man who could tame and conquer her? Was that why she was always getting enslaved or knocked up or ravished and everything, deep down she desired it? Were the other superheroines the same? The sight of Got-Gal, Wolf-Woman, Lady Midnight, Azure Angel, Sarah Craft et al sprawled naked across their pimps bed after a long hard night of fucking for money made her think that maybe this was true.
She gazed at the awesome sight in the Pimpmaster's mirrored ceiling, so many beautiful naked bodies intertwined. Of course she'd persuaded him to make a few changes to his place, made it a little less tasteless and a little more girl friendly. She considered her master very much a work in progress. But that was why the needed one another, complimented each other so perfectly.
"I'm a strong, intelligent, independent woman," she told herself, "I don't NEED a man but I do WANT one and it's senseless to deny it and the pleasures of the flesh to myself."
She settled back down to sleep, happier and more content than at any other time she could remember. She loved what she was experiencing at that moment and she could only look forward to even more of the same when she woke up.
The gorgeous smile plastered across Miss Americana's beautiful sleeping features could not truly convey her sense of joyous rapture.