Ms Patriot: Undercover (Chapter 10) (Patreon)

Ms Patriot: Undercover

Grimme City Super Heroines in Peril

Chapter 10

Baby blues narrowed, Ms Patriot cautiously crept up the dark, trash-strewn alley deep in the notorious Sugar Town red-light district. She was crouched over, red-gloved hands out to either side with all senses on alert. Without her power belt, the busty super heroine had to be extra careful.

The voluptuous vigilante was kind of undercover, in a whole different way. She wore her full costume, sans power belt and mask. Round, rose-colored sunglasses replaced her mask, and a tan trenchcoat covered her costume. The only things visible to mark her as a heroine were her red-gloved hands and red thigh boots peeking beneath the trenchcoat’s hemline. To further hide her identity, Ms Patriot wore a wide-brimmed hat of the same dull tan as the trenchcoat.

A hint of a smug smile tugged at the corner of her full red lips. Saturday had proven rough, but then she’d handled Boss Vitale pretty well. Erica was quite impressed, and she felt the mobster now trusted her implicitly. Yeah, that would come back to haunt Ms Sambino as she sat in prison for the next twenty to thirty years.

Now to find Tamika of the busted tongue, she thought. It always gave her a little jolt of pride, remembering how she could hurt the bad guys even without her power belt. And recover my power belt. Goddess help her if she doesn’t still have it. She gulped at the idea. But not as much as ME.

If she didn’t recover that all-important Object of Power, Ms Patriot would be forced to visit the vampire, Solitaire, with hat in hand. Since she’d avoid the oversexed vampire temptress-sorceress for over eighteen months, she was afraid Solitaire would force her to “make up” for lost opportunities. Hell, the last time something like this had happened, it took fifteen days to extract herself from the vampire’s grasp.

Solitaire had a stronger grip on Jennifer’s heart than Erica could ever hope to enjoy. It was a magically-enhanced grip, too. That ancient beauty truly owned every single super heroine in Grimme City, heart and soul. Sometimes Ms Patriot wondered why she did it. Why Solitaire seduced any woman she found descended of the mythical Valkyrie, and then turned them into super heroines. What did Solitaire get from that Devil’s bargain? Hot lesbian sex? Sure, but she already had a harem of young beauties to sate her insatiable lusts upon. And not every Valkyrie chose to become a super heroine. Few did, in fact.

One of these days, Solitaire and I are going to have a long talk.

Easing up to the street, she dropped to one knee and surveyed the scene. Monday night was always busy in Sugar Town. Neon signs flashed and coaxed men of every age, race, and religion into their dark sex industry shops and shows. Peep shows. Brothels. Titty bars. They all thrived in Sugar Town. Men (and some women, too) even traveled from around the world to enjoy that internationally infamous red-light district’s wicked delights. She heard random snatches of conversations, in a half-dozen different languages.

Everyone ignored the alley, fortunately. There were too many gorgeous women strutting their wares. Black women. Asian woman. White women. And especially Latinas. Odd, that. She didn’t recall there being so many Latin American hookers before. Had a new Hispanic pimp set up shop on that street? Ms Patriot didn’t think JJ Rod and the other ‘vets’ of the trade would appreciate a rookie moving in on their territory.

Could be trouble…

And then the heroine spotted her. Tamika came strolling out of the Happy Times Hotel like she was Queen of the World. Tonight, the African-American beauty wore brightest yellow. Her midriff-baring corset pushed her plump tits up enticingly, while the stretchy micro mini-skirt looked like it could split open at any moment under the strain. But, damn, it made her ass pop. Bright yellow ankle boots finished out her outfit.

That’s one way to get noticed, Ms Patriot thought.

Tamika joined Sassy and three other hookers at the closest street corner. They chatted way too merrily, laughing and giggling like schoolgirls. Men paused to look them over with interest, while others cruised by slowly, giving them the eye. Ms Patriot looked them over with different ambitions.

How do I separate her from the herd?

The answer came in the form of a paying customer. A john. Ms Patriot’s baby blues narrowed when she saw the light glint off his wedding band. Now she wanted to kick his butt, as well as the hooker’s.

Tamika flirted outrageously with the tall, forty-something white man. His expensive business suit proclaimed him middle management. He looked just a little nervous, but super excited nevertheless. Ms Patriot shook her head.

Men!

The sexy super heroine watched with big eyes as Tamika played him like a pro. But then, she was a pro. She had that married man wrapped around her little finger in nothing flat, practically buried in her cleavage. The heroine noticed his eyes hadn’t risen above the hooker’s impressive tits once.

Abruptly, Tamika turned on a tall stiletto heel, and strutted toward the Happy Times hooker hotel nearby. Her fellow hookers watched her leading her next paying customer with incredulous eyes. She seemed to be killing it that night.

“Now it’s time for the Champion of Justice to kill her buzz,” Ms Patriot whispered.

The statuesque super heroine moved quickly onto the sidewalk, crossed the street between honking cars, and strode purposely toward the Happy Times’ front door. Acting like she belonged there kept curious eyes away. No one appeared to watch her, or give her a second look. Probably thought she was just another hooker coming to work late. 

She entered the hotel right as Tamika and her mark entered the elevator lobby. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Ms Patriot hurried up to see what floor they stopped at.

Second floor! Perfect!

She quickly found the emergency stairs, and headed up. She took two and three steps at a time, almost flying up those stairs, stilettos echoing loudly in that enclosed space.

Ms Patriot understood only too intimately how the system worked between hooker hotels and sex workers. Pimps worked out deals so their girls used the same rooms all night. The hotel charged the johns outrageous prices, which they split with the pimps. And then the pimps collected their “cut” from the hookers. Everyone won, but the pimps won harder than anyone else.

Despite her speed, Ms Patriot found the elevator empty when she arrived, so she quickly ventured out into the long, dark hallway. She arrived just in time to spot Tamika lead her john into Room 26, halfway down. That room’s window overlooked the back alley. Ms Patriot smiled; there couldn’t have been a more perfect room if she’d picked it herself.

She thought about charging straight in, but a startled john might alert hotel security (not to mention Tamika’s pimp, JJ Rod) to trouble. Best to wait. Opportunity would show itself soon. So she found a dark corner to hide in, one hand dropping into a pocket to pull out her mask. She removed the sunglasses, and pressed the mask to her face.

I feel much better now, she thought with a grin.

Tamika’s client must have paid for extras. Extra time, at the very least. He was in her room over an hour, while countless other hookers came and went with their johns. It was all Ms Patriot could do to keep out of sight. And then the john finally left Room 26. Alone.

A fatal mistake.

Ms Patriot knew that ninety-nine percent of hookers escorted their johns out of the room and hotel. And then went right back to work. But Tamika appeared to like a little alone time after a job, so never escorted her john out. That left her all alone in her room.

Ms Patriot hurried up to Room 26. The door was locked.

“Hey, Tamika girl, what you up to in there?” Ms Patriot called, giving the door a light one-knuckle knock. “Open up and lemme see your fine self.”

She used a high-pitched voice, trying to mimic another African-American hooker she’d accosted a few weeks back. It worked. Tamika opened the door with a curious look on her face. She kind of surprised the heroine, answering the door in nothing but bright orange thigh boots.

“Avon calling,” Ms Patriot said, and punched her in the face. As Tamika stumbled back, the busty heroine slipped inside, closed, and locked the door. “My bad, not Avon, but a heroine calling.”

Recovering quickly, Tamika lashed out with a stiletto-heeled foot, forcing Ms Patriot back a step. The hooker skillfully rolled to her feet, but the heroine closed with her before she could set her feet properly. Ms Patriot rabbit-punched the young beauty, making her clutch her throat, gagging and coughing. Then, snatching up two fistfuls of hair, Ms Patriot thrust her head straight down as she brought a brutal knee up into Tamika’s face. Three times. It wasn’t long before Tamika’s knees buckled.

On all fours, tears flowing, and still gagging for air, Tamika blinked up at Ms Patriot’s smiling face.

“Are we having fun yet?” Ms Patriot asked. Her eyes narrowed. “Where is my power belt?”

“Fuck you.”

“Aww, bless your heart,” Ms Patriot purred, and promptly kneed the kneeling hooker in the face again. The busty heroine then picked Tamika up, and hurled her into the door. And finally, she grabbed the busty African-American by the hair and dragged her to the bed. “Let’s have a little heart-to-heart, Tammy. You don’t mind me calling you Tammy, do you?”

“Fuck – Ack!”

The frowning heroine ended her retort with another rabbit punch. Then she pulled a heavy-duty tie-wrap out of her left thigh boot and bound Tamika’s wrists behind her back.

“Shhh, sweetie. If you can’t speak respectfully to a superior woman, then don’t speak at all,” Ms Patriot snarled. She expected Tamika to throw back that she was also of Valkyrie descent, but the hooker remained silent. Maybe she didn’t know. “Now, let’s try this again. Where is my power belt?”

“That’s for me to know,” Tamika sneered. “I get that golden trophy, and you get depowered forever.”

“You wish. One, you will give it back. I promise,” Ms Patriot said. Her right, red-gloved hand palmed Tamika’s well-rounded butt, before she slid her fingertips down across the hooker’s puckered anus. “And two, I can get another if necessary. It might be a little tricky, but it can be done.”

“What are you doing?”

“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander,” Ms Patriot said, with a brow wag. “I know a tried and true way to make you more malleable, more eager to please in every way.”

Ms Patriot’s fingertips began exploring Tamika’s hot, slick pussy. The hooker gasped, eyes huge. The heroine grinned knowingly. Yeah, she’d found herself in that exact position in more than a few setbacks. After extended sex with her last john, the beautiful black woman was in no condition to fend off Ms Patriot’s sexual offensive.

“Oooooh,” Tamika groaned, bliss spreading across her lovely face. “I can’t believe a super heroine is… Ooooooh.”

“Believe it,” Ms Patriot snarled. “I’m going to own your ass tonight. Thank you for putting up a fight and forcing my hand. Literally.”

Ms Patriot put everything she knew into masturbating Tamika, forcing the beautiful hooker to come as fast as possible. Past experience had proven the faster her captors forced a climax out of her, the faster the Curse kicked in and made her submit. And once Tamika was tamed, she’d tell Ms Patriot anything.

“Bad girl, bad girl,” Ms Patriot sang softly, tauntingly. “Whatcha going to do when the Champion of Justice comes looking for you? Bad girl.”

Tamika looked up with incredulous eyes. She looked so weak and helpless. Her lips trembled, big brown eyes wide. Desire welled up within, and Ms Patriot dove in for a kiss. Kissed her captive long, deep, and passionately. She even opened Tamika’s mouth with her own, and unleashed their tongues to tease, taunt, and explore.

They moaned and groaned, and Ms Patriot felt her own libido ignite. Thoughts of lesbian sex filled her mind. Maybe she should scissor the hooker? Eat her pussy? Oh, she remembered how much Tamika loved her tongue tornadoes. She remembered how good the hooker’s twat tasted, too.

“Aaagggh!” Tamika screamed. “Oh. Oh! Aaaggggh!”

Ms Patriot smiled. A few more climaxes like that, and the hooker would be tamed. Hers to use and abuse, or question. But she had to ask right off, just in case.

“Where is my power belt, Tamika?”

The shapely African-American looked up with glazed eyes. “Under the mattress.”

Ms Patriot did a double-take. Really? That fast? Obviously Tamika wasn’t super heroine tough. At least not when it came to setbacks. Of course, she could be lying and trying anything to stop Ms Patriot’s talented fingers from driving her crazy with pleasure.

“It better be, or else,” Ms Patriot whispered straight into her ear, and then kissed it. It felt good to treat bad guys – well, bad girls – exactly the way they treated her when she got captured. “Don’t go anywhere, babe.”

She pulled Tamika off the bed to lay on the floor. And then the heroine flipped the mattress off the bed. And there it was, laid out flat atop the box springs.

“Yes!”

Ms Patriot quickly wrapped that golden belt around her tiny waist, snapping it in place. It felt snug, feeling so comforting. And a second later she felt that beloved feeling of sexual bliss and tingling as the magic flowed back into her body. In a flash Ms Patriot was empowered.

“I’m back,” she said, baby blues flashing. She looked out the window, off in the direction of Erica’s big drug deal that night. “Time to kick butt and take names.”