Ms Patriot: Wicked Witch Switch (Grimme City Super Heroines in Peril) (Grimme City Super Heroines in Peril Series Book 20) (5 page)

            “She won’t help you,” Ms Patriot said, staggering to her stiletto-booted feet. She stomped on Esmeralda’s belly, doubling the witch up, before grabbing a fistful of black hair and forcing the gasping witch to her knees. “Now you will pay for your crimes. This is perfect, for now we’ll be able to prove Ms Patriot and Patriot Girl were entranced, and that you were pretending to be Jennifer Jade. All of our reputations will be restored.”

            “My mistress wants you,” Lynda said, just behind the sexy super heroine.

            “Lynda, give me her belt,” Esmeralda gasped out.

            The raven-maned super heroine felt Lynda’s delicate hands at the small of her back, on her power belt. The young blonde deftly unfastened the all-important power belt and pulled it away.

            “Lynda, no!” Ms Patriot cried, too late. She felt her super strength and endurance bleed away quickly.

            “Quickly, give me the belt,” Esmeralda commanded. Lynda handed it to her, and the wicked witch instantly felt super-strength infuse her battered body. “Wow! It does work for me.”

            “No!” Ms Patriot cried. She looked between Lynda and Esmeralda with wild eyes. Everything was all wrong. Lynda would not betray her like that. “The belt only works for me.”

            “But I’m a perfect copy of you,” Esmeralda said, and grabbed the heroine's wrist. Then she squeezed until Ms Patriot gasped and let go of her hair. The witch shoved Ms Patriot away, and stood up. Then she locked eyes with the disbelieving super heroine as she slowly fastened the power belt around her own narrow waist. “I am super powerful now.”

            “You won’t get away with this, Esmeralda!” Ms Patriot growled, still rubbing her aching wrist. Her baby blues locked on the shiny golden power belt that was encircling her enemy’s waist. “Release Patriot Girl from your evil spell and surrender, or suffer the consequences.”

            “Consequences? You mean like live the rest of my life in this curvy, gorgeous body?” the sexy witch said, while cupping her titanic tits with one hand and running her other hand over her well rounded hip. “Consequences like taking possession of all you own, including your wealth, power, and influence by impersonating you?”

            “You can fool the ignorant masses on the streets, but you won’t fool anyone in the boardroom,” Ms Patriot said. “You may have the face and the body, but I have the knowledge and the talent to run a multinational corporation. I know the movers and shakers, what makes them tick, how to manipulate them, how to get what I want from them. All you know are stupid spells and such.”

            “Ah. There you go. I know magic,” Esmeralda said. “And thank you, for I haven’t really thought it through enough to realize I do need your vast knowledge. And to think I was about to sell your sweet ass to white slavers. What would I have done?” She smiled with wicked delight. “Thankfully, I know a spell that will transfer all of your knowledge and experience straight into my head.”

            Ms Patriot’s eyes widened. It had never occurred to her that magic could do that. Hell, she'd never realized the witch could transform herself into someone else's exact double.

            “Patriot Girl, run!” she cried, more to distract Esmeralda than truly believing her entranced protégé would obey. The beautiful, pigtailed blonde didn’t move, though Esmeralda did glance at the nineteen-year-old beauty. “Vengeance will be mine!”

            Ms Patriot raced toward Esmeralda. She was not anywhere close to as strong or fast as the wicked witch who was now wearing her power belt, but she had more cunning and experience fighting face-to-face. Esmeralda looked surprised for a second, then pointed a finger at her opponent and spoke a quick spell. Just three feet from tackling her doppelganger, Ms Patriot was magically lifted up and over the witch. She smashed into the stone wall ten feet above ground, and came crashing down.

            “Ugggh. Hurts,” she gasped. She wasn’t used to taking a beating without her power belt to help protect her, and even speed up her recovery. Head still spinning, she heard high heels coming her way. “Stay… away from me. Ugh.”

            “Aw, poor thing. Let me make it all better,” Esmeralda said, and then threw another spell — straight into Ms Patriot’s vulnerable pussy. “Climax for me!”

            Ms Patriot’s back arched, and she threw her head back and screamed as her insides erupted in orgasmic glory.

            “Aaaaaaaaaaggghhh!” Ms Patriot cried. Her body pulsed with perfect pleasure, the sexiest sensations ever felt rippling through her shapely body. “Too much! Too intense. Aaaaaaaagghh!”

            “Come again!”

            “No! Please! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggghhhh!”

            “Come again!”

            “Goddess, help me! Aaaaaaiiieeee! Sweet Justice!”

            “You are mine, Ms Patriot,” Esmeralda said, and cackled madly for a long moment. “It’s so much fun taking you down. And now, I’ll take the very last thing you have to give me. All of your
knowledge!
”

            Esmeralda began pacing around the trembling, panting super heroine. She spoke a spell as she walked, blazing hellfire red eyes intent on her victim. As the words came out in her rich new voice, the tension in the Patriot Cave grew. Like electricity. Ms Patriot was slowly recovering from her multiple magically-forced super orgasms. The vanquished vigilante was just becoming coherent enough to understand the danger, when the witch finished her spell and hit her with it.

            “Aaiiee!” Ms Patriot cried sharply, and was frozen in place.

            Esmeralda smiled as she watched her enemy engulfed in a crimson glow. Then she watched as a tendril of crimson magic stretched out to touch her own forehead, then engulf her as well. That’s when a torrent of knowledge and memories flooded into her mind. Ms Patriot’s and Jennifer Jade’s memories. It lasted for over five minutes, and once she had everything, the spell faded away.

            “Yes! It is done,” Esmeralda declared. “I am JENNIFER JADE!” She glanced down at her defeated foe. “And you are nothing. Wait, I am wrong. You are a rather spectacular sex slave.”

            “Y-You won't…
ugh
… get away… oooh,” Ms Patriot gasped out, the spell having sucked so much of her energy away that she could barely think, much less stay awake.

            “Oh, but I will, and rather spectacularly, I might add,” the grinning witch said. “Lynda, bind Ms Patriot’s arms behind her back, and then strip her.”

            Esmeralda watched with wicked delight as Ms Patriot writhed and squirmed, trying to escape her fate while Lynda easily manhandled her mentor, binding the raven-maned super heroine’s wrists and elbows together behind her back. Lynda removed Ms Patriot’s tiara first, tossing it aside to clatter across the tiles. Then she emotionlessly removed the blue mask and tossed it aside. Ms Patriot, though, wasn’t so casual about that.

            “Aaaiiieee! I’ve been unmasked! Lynda, how could you?”

            “My mistress commands me,” Lynda said, and removed Ms Patriot’s bustier top, and then her mentor's short-shorts.

            Lynda removed the sexy super heroine’s choker, then unzipped and removed the red thigh boots. Finally, she had to untie Ms Patriot's wrists to remove the red opera gloves, before retying the wrists. Then Esmeralda handed Lynda a bright red ball-gag, and she stuffed that in her outraged mentor’s mouth and secured it.

            “Well done, my sexy slave girl,” Esmeralda said. “Now you strip.”

            Once Lynda was as naked as Ms Patriot, Esmeralda ball-gagged her, and bound her wrists and elbows together. Once Lynda was secure, the wicked witch released the blonde from the Spell of Obedience, and enjoyed the look of distressed horror come across her gorgeous face as she remembered all that she’d done to Ms Patriot. Then the witch forced them both into the elevator, taking them up to Jade Manor, and to the white van she drove over parked in the front driveway.

            “Don’t you look pretty, all hogtied and heading into white slavery?” Esmeralda said, once she'd gotten them properly bound for the coming trip. “I hope you hate every second of your sexual servitude, but knowing you two, you’ll be in heaven.”

            Ms Patriot and Patriot Girl could only glare at the witch, struggling weakly in their tight bindings. Hogtied didn’t leave a lot of options for movement. All they could do was lie side-by-side, face-down in the back of the van as Esmeralda drove them to a warehouse district. Forty-five minutes later, the van stopped in a dark alley, and the witch got out to talk with some waiting men.

            A few minutes later, white slavers opened the back doors and pulled their prizes out.

            “Make sure they are sold overseas,” Esmeralda said. “I don’t want to see or hear about these stuck-up, rich bitches ever again.”

            “Don’t worry, Esmeralda, we have just the place for them,” one of the men said, grinning as he squeezed one of Ms Patriot’s tits. “Third World country, way out in the middle of nowhere. The people in Bumfuckeygpt never heard of this place.”

            “Perfect. Goodbye, ladies. Have fun,” Esmeralda said, and left.

            “Okay, boys, we only got about two hours to fuck these two hot whores, then we have to box them up and ship them,” the boss said. “Party time!”

Chapter 6

Six months later, in a small, impoverished town in Central Africa….

            Jennifer arched her back, her hands deep in her own tousled black hair as her bliss-filled face turned toward the heavens. She savored the feel of her customer's big, callused hands roughly fondling her sensitive boobs, as she rode his thick black cock like a good whore should.

            "Oh, Goddess. Ooooh, Goddess! Oh yes! Fuck me, baby. Oh, fuck me like that," she gasped out, her mind in a whirl as she enjoyed her quick ascent toward climax. It was so hot and sultry in that tiny, dark room. No AC. Her spectacular body was shiny with sweat. "You are the man. That's it. Just like… oh… Aaaaaaaaaaggghhh!"

            "Ha! You are such a pathetic whore," he sneered. "That's why I like fucking you American whores so much."

            He was one of her many regular customers. Barat came in every week, as soon as he got paid. He worked in the fields for a rich farmer, so he didn't make much. But he always came to her first. And then came inside her.

            Jennifer leaned over Barat, hands on his thick chest, and kissed him. "I appreciate your patronage, Barat. You satisfy me better than any man."

            "Oh, yes," he said, as he came deep inside her.

            Jennifer smiled as she felt her own body react to his climax, with one of her own. She knew her regulars better than they knew themselves, and she knew how to make them happy and to make them come.

            "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggghhhh," she cried, basking in the glory of her orgasm. "I can't wait for next payday, baby."

            Once he came, Barat's time was up. She quickly got him dressed and out the door, where she found her next customer waiting. Jennifer didn't know his name, but he visited her every day. He was a seven-foot-tall monster of a man, who never spoke a single word. He handed her the money, and she lay on the bed and spread her legs wide. He mounted, and rode her hard and fast for a good five minutes, and as many climaxes for her, before coming and leaving. Never, ever a single word.

            Her next customer was a short, skinny aid worker from Germany, who couldn't speak English, but had nonetheless proved to be a loyal patron of her spectacular body. He visited her twice a week, at least. After that, it was seven hours of one field worker after another, wham bam, thank you ma'am sex.

            And that had been her life for the past six months. Oddly enough, blonde, teenage Lynda was even more popular and much busier. They were so busy fucking and sucking, the only time they had a chance to speak to each other was during their infrequent sex shows. They only put on sex shows when business got slow, and they needed to draw in more patrons.

            Late that night, Jennifer finally returned to the main parlor. There were only two men, and all of the brothel's women. Lynda was sitting on the lap of the one man she didn't recognize. He was playing with her perky tits with childlike delight. Lynda looked exhausted after a long day and night on her knees and back.

            "Jennifer," Haran al-Kar called. He was the monster that owned her and Lynda. He was six-eight, fat as hell, and bald as a rock. He also had a really huge cock that he loved boning them both with day in and day out. "My friend has wagered that Lynda can suck more cock before she retches than you. So we are gathering up some men off the street, and you two will suck their cocks until one of you throws it all back up."

            Both women's eyes went round. Then men started filing into the brothel, directed to form two lines up to and onto the stage. They all grinned at the two American women.

            "I think I'm going to be sick right now," Lynda said.

            "Leave Lynda out of it," Jennifer said. "I'll give you a good show. Promise."

            "No, I want both of you to do it, and the loser will be beaten," Haran said firmly. "I am master here. You are slaves. Obey me, slaves!"

            "Ah," Jennifer said, her stomach rolling dangerously. Lynda stood up woodenly, and headed for the stage. She looked so pathetic and defeated. Totally cowed. Tamed and claimed. It broke Jennifer's heart to know her protégé's mighty spirit was broken. And then the rage began to build. Anger. Hate. VENGEANCE, boiled within her as she stepped up onto the stage. "Okay, you want a show, huh? I'll give you a show you won't forget."

            "Make it sexy, slaves," Haran commanded. "Don't make me beat you again."

            The men who were lining up looked eager. They also looked dirt-poor. Of course, everyone in that village was dirt-poor by American standards, but those men were the poorest of the poor. Few, if any of them, had regular jobs. They looked downcast and defeated, with little hope of ever escaping their condition. Jennifer understood, but she still had hope of escaping her miserable life of sexual slavery.