Ms Patriot: The Heroine Trade (Chapter 17) (Patreon)

Chapter 17

Next day….

“Mmmm,” Britannia moaned. She clenched her aching jaw, teeth pressing into the rubber ball-gag. No relief. “Mmmmm.”

She wiggled, unable to get into a comfortable position. Her wrists were shackled behind her back, with a hobble chain around her ankles. While she couldn’t see it, she felt the metal null collar around her neck and negating all of her super powers. Yeah, been there, done that before. Didn’t work out well for her before, and still not helping.

Ms Patriot stirred next to her, a moan of misery bubbling out. The heroine had slept face down on the cold tile floor beside her. Like her, she suspected the poor woman was chilled to the bone. Both were completely naked. Not a stitch of their costumes left on their battered and abused bodies.

Britannia wiggled some more, rolling onto her side facing her friend. She felt how sticky her body was, head to toe, against the tile. Her mind ventured back to the previous day and night. How many hours had the slavers gangbanged them on that livestream? She lost track of time, so had no idea.

Too long.

Poor Ms Patriot was bound slightly differently. More insidiously, in her mind. Her left wrist was bound to her right elbow, right to left. Looked painfully uncomfortable. She was also hobbled, but the collar around her neck was black leather. Her amazing body looked just as soiled and sticky as her own.

Ms Patriot groaned, lifting her head and looking around with bleary eyes. They paused to stare at each other, so many emotions broadcast by that simple gaze. The raven-haired beauty struggled to her side, facing Britannia. She couldn’t speak due to the bright red ball-gag.

The door opened, followed by the clatter of stilettos. The Wells Twins came into view at their feet. They both wore bright white string bikini’s, with matching pumps. The redheads grinned with wicked glee.

“Time to get you ready,” Katie said.

The Twins reached down and hauled Britannia to her bare feet. Then they dragged Ms Patriot to her feet. They attached leashes to the enslaved heroines’ collars and led them out of the room. The hapless heroines were taken to an open bay shower with twelve heads. They were stood underneath shower heads, and then icy cold water was turned on to drench their suddenly distressed bodies.

Katie paired off with the English super heroine, Sadie with the American. They quickly scrubbed their bodies clean, before making the heroines kneel to wash their hair. Once that was done, Katie held first Britannia, then Ms Patriot, while Sadie gave them full Brazilian wax jobs.

“Neither of you really needed it, but the boss wanted you both smooth as a baby’s butt,” Sadie said, grinning.

Britannia ignored her. She had been in the Twin’s less than tender care for over a month. She’d received a wax job ever couple of days. Just because it hurt, and they loved dealing out pain and misery to other women.

They were taken to a dressing room, and tied to chairs. Katie did the heroines’ hair, Sadie their makeup. They were dolled up bright and sexy, before a white mask was glued to Ms Patriot’s face. Then a lacy white underboob corset was placed on her, before the tiniest bit of nothing string bikini bottoms were put on her as well. It was almost nothing but thread, with the nether covering barely wide and long enough to cover her folds. Then white thigh high hose was pulled up her legs, before white patent over-the-knee boots were put on her.

“You are the hottest, prettiest Slave of Honor ever,” Katie purred.

The heroines frozen, turning their eyes to Katie. She wagged her brows.

“You know, like a Maid of Honor, only a slave.”

“Our master is going to marry you today, Britannia,” Sadie said. “Lucky bride. Now we will dress you.”

“We must hurry. It’s almost time,” Katie said. “It’s a bad omen if she is late for her wedding.”

“Where did you hear that?” Sadie asked.

“Just now, when I heard myself say it.”

“You are so smart.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Britannia looked at Ms Patriot, sharing an incredulous look. How were they, super heroines, being lorded over by such ignorant bimbos? But there was no doubt they were in the submissive position, forced to obey.

Britannia was stood up, facing the mirror. She noticed her ball-gag wasn’t red as she assumed. It was clear rubber, with white straps. The null collar was lacquered a shiny white. Then a diamond chain was wrapped around her head, only exposed across her forehead. The redheads then put a string bikini bottom on her, white and very similar to Ms Patriot’s. Only hers was “crotchless.” It covered the skin to either side of her fleshy folds, leaving her open to sexual exploitation. Open to her impending marriage being easily consummated. After slipping bright white Christian Louboutin stiletto pumps on her feet, the Twins then put a mockery of a bra on her. It was a lacy white, but only encircled her boobs. No breast cups, so her tits hung out naked for the world to see and enjoy. A white garter belt was then pulled up her right leg to mid-thigh.

The wedding march started playing over hidden speakers. The twins became frantic, quickly touching up their charges’ faces and hair. Then they attached white leashes to the enslaved heroines’ collars.

“Time to get you married so your baby won’t be a bastard,” Katie said, leading Britannia out of the dressing room.

Sadie followed leading Ms Patriot. They headed up the dark corridor and towards an open door. The sounds of laughter and revelry came spilling out along with strobing light. When the bride appeared, the voices dropped to whispers. Everyone hurried to folding chairs to either side of a path to the alter. Sadie led Ms Patriot up to the alter first.

Ivan Chekov stood there. Waiting impatiently with Mikhail and Konstantin as his Best Men. They wore black tuxedos and bow ties. For once, if you ignored their cold serpent eyes, they looked respectable. The preacher was a older man who looked Ms Patriot over with lustful eyes.

Once Ms Patriot was standing in the proper place, with Sadie next to her holding her leash, the wedding march started again. Katie led the hapless English heroine up the aisle, in a slow, sassy strut. Britannia followed in her hobbled shuffle. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to marry that monster. But no one cared what she felt. Chekov’s will was all that mattered.

The men to either side of the aisle were the other human traffickers. They came dressed in suits and ties. Most of them looked uncomfortable. That made her a little happy.

Katie timed their pace perfectly. They arrived at the alter just as the song ended. Britannia was positioned to the left of the preacher, facing Chekov. Her groom looked her over with pride of ownership. Like a new car or boat. Just another pretty possession.

“Friends and family, we are gathered here today to join Ivan Chekov and Madison ‘Britannia’ Knapp in holy wedlock.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chekov growled. “Just make us husband and wife so I can consummate.”

The preacher looked taken aback, but then glanced at first Britannia, then Ms Patriot. Lust filled his eyes as he looked the raven-maned heroine over. He nodded.

“Ivan Chekov, do you take Madison Knapp as your lawful wife, as her lord and master?”

“I do.”

The preacher glanced at Britannia, grinned, and said, “Then I pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may claim your bride, sir.”

Chekov surged up against her, reached up and yanked the ball-gag out. He didn’t give her a chance to speak, much less protest. The big Russian claimed her lips in a deep, possessive kiss. Took her breath away, leaving her light-headed and feeling helpless.

He turned the blonde heroine toward the applauding audience, bent her over, and unzipped. An incredulous expression claimed Britannia’s features as he guided his cock to her uncovered cunny, and slowly penetrated like he wanted to savor every second, every inch, as he slipped inside her.

“Ooooooo.”

One hand on her hip, the other grabbing a fistful of silky blonde hair, Chekov began thrusting in and out. He started out slowly and sensuously, but it quickly sped up into a brutal fuck of triumph.

“The Great and Mighty Britannia is mine! My wife. The mother of my children,” Chekov cried. “My slavegirl!”

While Chekov consummated his ill-fated marriage. Ms Patriot was dragged over to the preacher. She was forced to kneel. Sadie pulled the ball-gag out to hang around her neck. The preacher pulled out his cock and palmed the back of her head. Ms Patriot rolled her eyes. A preacher was about to make her suck him off. Her shoulders slumped. She looked up into his hungry eyes, and started licking.

“Mmmgh,” she moaned, going down on him.

Chekov suddenly cried out. Britannia gasped, feeling his seed flooding her now occupied womb. She had no fear of being impregnated now. The deed was already done. Now she was just his cock sleeve, his fuck toy, until she gave birth. And then what? Sold into sex slavery? Or kept to continue breeding her?

“Mmmmgh,” Ms Patriot moaned, the preacher already shooting his load down her throat.

Yeah, that was fast, but he looked pleased. The now light-headed heroine pulled off, licked her lips, and groaned when Mikhail and Konstantin moved on her, both unzipping. She was pulled to her feet, bent over at the waist, so Konstantin could mount her from behind. Then Mikhail took control of her face, guiding his cock into her mouth.

The defeated and subjugated heroine had no choice but obey and give them what they wanted. Ms Patriot squeezed her pussy down around Konstantin’s cock, while sucking Mikhail’s cock with all she had. She noticed Katie being dragged away by a pair of slavers, while they stripped off her bikini. Sadie then leaned over and whispered into Ms Patriot’s ear.

“You, me, and Katie are the entertainment,” she whispered.

Sadie wagged her brows, and turned away to give herself to a man. Ms Patriot just relaxed. It wouldn’t take much now to push her into the Curse, and then she’d be happy until the wedding gangbang ended. And her life as a sex slave truly began.