Ms Patriot: Journey into Debauchery (Episode 4) (Patreon)

Episode 4 – The House of Joy

Mistress Tabitha quickly got Ms Patriot back into her full costume, sans power belt. Conor kept all of the vanquished vigilantes’ Objects of Power to sell separately on the Dark Web. Wide black leather cuffs were locked around Ms Patriot’s wrists and ankles, before a hobble chain was attached and the wrist cuffs locked together behind the helpless heroine’s back.

Ms Patriot teetered atop her tall stiletto heels, head still reeling from the sound auction fucking, body tingling and quivering. 

“It’s all over, Ms Patriot,” Mistress Tabitha whispered into her ear. “You failed. You led all of your friends and comrades into ignoble sex slavery. Now you must be punished for your crime and epic stupidity.”

The hapless heroine’s baby blues widened, her throat painfully tight. Deep shame welled up, heating up her beautiful face.

What have I done? Ms Patriot looked around with burning, wet eyes. She’s right. I truly am epically stupid.

Conor removed his collar, and Mistress Tabitha slowly buckled a narrower black collar around Ms Patriot’s slender throat, before attaching a leash. The vanquished vigilante stared into her new mistress’ face, seeing how much the wicked dominatrix enjoyed collaring her new slave. Her property. Her shapely plaything.

I belong to that sexual deviant now. This is going to be so hard. So humiliating.

Mistress Tabitha backed away from her, giving the leash a little tug.

“Come, my pretty pet,” she purred. “It’s time I introduced you to your new reality. Your new life as a BDSM sex worker. I have so much to teach you.”

Ms Patriot resisted, not moving her feet. Tabitha didn’t relent, pulling harder and harder. Her mistress wasn’t hobbled, wrists bound behind her back. Tabitha’s center of balance could be adjusted, lowered. 

Mistress Tabitha won, and Ms Patriot’s body threatened to topple forward. She didn’t want to give them the pleasure of watching her face-plant, so took a tentative step. One short, hobbled step led to another, and another, and soon she was shuffling as fast as her hobbled legs would take her. Getting down the steps to the main floor proved precarious, but she managed it.

With Ms Patriot shuffling toward the door, Mistress Tabitha moved to walk next to her.

“Posture, slave!” she cried, and brought her riding crop down across the helpless heroine’s sweet round butt. Thwack! “Chin up. Chest out. Back slightly bowed.”

THWACK!

“Aaiiee!” Ms Patriot screamed around her ball-gag.

That second strike was so hard and painful Ms Patriot stumbled and fell hard onto her knees. Without her power belt to dull the pain and heal her injuries super fast, the enslaved beauty knelt there with an incredulous look and trembling as the pain reverberated through her shapely body.

“Back on your feet,” her mistress snapped. 

Thwack! Thwack! Both strikes across her upper back.

Ms Patriot struggled to rise, but her bound wrists and hobbled ankles kept thwarting her. The pimps, pushers, and pornographers in the crowd laughed and jeered, taunting the once feared heroine. A few reached in to slap her butt, or cop a feel of her jostling tits. Mistress Tabitha finally had a pair of bodyguards haul the trembling heroine back to her feet.

Her new owner leaned in, gave her ball-gag a lick, and then grinned. “I can’t wait to put you to work in my BDSM brothel.”

Baby blues wide as the notorious dominatrix led her out of the Sullivan Theater, and straight up to a large black Cadillac SUV, Ms Patriot tried her best to not think about what depravities her new life would entail. Mistress Tabitha slid to the middle of the seat, crossed her legs, and watched Ms Patriot struggle to crawl in on just her knees.

As their vehicle pulled away, with lead and trailing SUVs full of security men, Mistress Tabitha caressed Ms Patriot’s face with the flap at the end of her riding crop. She trailed down to the heroine’s deep cleavage, before reaching down and tapping her between the legs. Ms Patriot’s breath caught, when her mistress proved amazingly good at finding her clit and tapping it over and over and over. 

“Mmggggh,” the hapless heroine groaned, feeling those sexy taps profoundly.

Her belly still quivered from all the forced climaxes. Her baby blues closed, head rolling back as her back bowed slightly. Ms Patriot clamped down harder on the rubber ball in her mouth. And then Tabitha pressed the toe of her thigh-booted foot against the enslaved heroine’s pussy, and ground it hard.

“Uuugggh.”

“Like that, do you?” Mistress Tabitha taunted. “Of course you do. Super heroines are one and all super sluts. I suspect you are still deep in the throes of the Curse of the Valkyrie, too.”

Ms Patriot wanted to deny it. Wanted to just kneel there without emotion and glare daggers at the hated BDSM brothel owner. Instead, her breathing quickened, short pants through her nose, as her skin tingled and her insides got all fluttery hot again. It got harder and harder to remain perfectly still.

“Oh yes, you like it a lot,” her mistress purred, grinding that toe harder.

“Uuuuuugh.”

The heroine’s hips thrust forward, and she ground her throbbing pussy against the hard leather of that boot toe. Mistress Tabitha stopped pressing, and just let her slave do it all herself. And Ms Patriot quickly found that perfect spot, and quickly forced herself to climax.

“Uuuuggghh! Mmmmmggh.”

“It’s a beautiful sight,” Mistress Tabitha sighed. “Men will flock to my brothel just for a chance to fuck you raw. And you will not disappoint.”

Ms Patriot lost track of time and location while continuing to ride that boot-toe. So she jolted back to reality when the SUV pulled over and stopped. Looking out the tinted windows, the ex-heroine spotted street people and kinksters mingling outside the club entranced.

The door opened, and Mistress Tabitha slipped out. Ms Patriot had no choice but to follow, what with the dominatrix pulling on her leash. Getting out of the vehicle proved much harder than getting inside, but soon she found herself standing next to her mistress on the sidewalk.

“Welcome to your new home and workplace, Ms Patriot,” Mistress Tabitha said loudly for the small crowd of gawkers. “Welcome to the House of Joy!”

The busty heroine looked up and around, her belly tightening as she looked the notorious brothel over. A place she’d raided many times. A place she’d wanted to shut down permanently for many years.

Goddess save me!

The crowd around them started getting excited. She looked around at all the satisfied smirks, lusty eyes, and joyous faces. And then the cell phones came out, taking pictures, video. Camera flashes left spots in her eyes, half-blinding the busty heroine.

The street people loved it when a super heroine was brought low like that. Ms Patriot had a sick feeling their joy ramped up to see her, the city’s premier super heroine, bound hand and foot, being led into darkest debauchery. How many of them would scratch up enough cash to sate their lusts on her body?

“Have you guys seen Ms Patriot’s tits?” Mistress Tabitha asked the crowd.

“No!” they shouted. “Show us her tits! Show us her tits!”

The kinky brothel owner laughed. She caught Ms Patriot’s shocked eyes, reached out, and yanked the heroine’s red and white striped bustier down. Firm, fat tits popped out and jostled enticingly for the crowd, as the camera flashes doubled, tripled. More phones were held up to record her shame. Mistress Tabitha then spoke softly to a bodyguard, who pulled something out of his pocket for her. The infamous dominatrix then held up her prize.

“What in the world could I possibly do with these two nipple clamps?” Mistress Tabitha asked loudly. “Where could I put them for safe keeping?” She lifted one of the heroine’s large tits, nipple hard and pointing straight out. “This horny slut slave could take an eye out with this nip. And you know me, safety first!”

Ms Patriot couldn’t breathe as she watched her mistress pinch open the nipple clamp. It was silvery, with a tiny silver bell hanging off. The bell tinkled as she pressed the open clamp to either side of her sensitive nipple, and let it snap closed.

“Aaaiieee!”

“Bet that hurts,” Mistress Tabitha cried. 

The bound, helpless heroine jumped up and down, shaking her tits. That wasn’t the first time some sicko put a clamp on her nipples, but that had to be the tightest nipple clamp ever. And then, while she was distracted by the pain, Mistress Tabitha took the opportunity to clamp the other nipple.

“Aaaiieee! Ooooooh.”

“I’m sure she would thank me if that pretty ball-gag wasn’t filling her hot little mouth,” Tabitha said, making the crowd laugh.

Once again, Ms Patriot bounced up and down, making her big tits flop all around as she struggled to deal with that unaccustomed pain. Her mean mistress held onto her, copping feels of her boobs and butt to the delight of the crowd. But once the pain subsided, Ms Patriot settled down and Mistress Tabitha took up the leash again.

“Spread the word, my pets, that Ms Patriot now has a whole new set of super kinky skills,” the brothel owner said. “And she practices them at the House of Joy.”

Mistress Tabitha did a slow strut through the brothel doors, leading Ms Patriot into the city’s most fabled den of debauchery. The House of Joy was part strip club, party brothel, and part BDSM sex club. 

A trifecta of debauchery, Ms Patriot thought.

The first room was an over-the-top foyer, complete with marble floor, two story ceiling. and massive crystal chandelier. A grand sweeping stairs went up to the second floor, and lowest level of the brothel. Big silent men in black suits stood around the edges of the men and women enjoying drinks and conversation there. 

Ms Patriot looked left, into the bar that doubled as a parlor for the brothel. A place men could chose which hot chick to take upstairs and bang. To her right was the strip club, with a main stage and four smaller stages. It also had a smaller bar and scantily clad waitresses.

Straight ahead waited the largest room. The Main Parlor. The BDSM sex club, where both men and women gathered to socialize, make out, and tie each other up. And they could have sex right there in front of everyone, all for the cost of a membership. On top of that, Mistress Tabitha staffed the sex club with every type of sex slave for the members to enjoy. Plus, all of the hookers in the brothel were available to satisfy their darkest desires.

“Hello, my pets,” Mistress Tabitha called upon entering the Main Parlor. “Look what the cat dragged in. Ms Patriot her fine self has graciously consented to be my sex slave. And you know I always share my pretties.”

Everyone perked up, eyes huge. Ms Patriot saw the surprise started to fade, and wicked delight fill their faces. It proved doubly worrisome, since everyone was dressed to impress in a BDSM club. Leather was the rule, but she saw, mostly women, in shiny latex, too. Everyone was dressed either as a dom, or a slave. Even she could tell who was there to top, and who wanted to bottom, by what they wore.

Over in one corner, she spotted a busty beauty with a sassy blonde bob wearing nothing but a head band with cow horns and ears, a furry white cincher with black spots, and white thigh boots with large black spots. A hot redhead was mimicking milking her tits, while a skinny young man reamed out the hucow’s butt.

Mistress Tabitha led Ms Patriot around the parlor, stopping at every chair, table, and group to allow them to admire and grope her new slavegirl. It took the better part of an hour to make the entire circuit. Everyone had to lay hands on the hapless heroine, touching her all over, but especially her hair, boobs, butt, and… Pussy. Yeah, everyone got a few rubs in, so by the end poor Ms Patriot was panting through her nose, face flushed, and insides all hot and fluttery.

“I do declare, this heroic beauty is hot to trot,” her mistress said. Her hand slipped under the shapely heroine’s thonglike shorts, found her sopping wet pussy, and started to rub. “Let’s see how horny she really is.”

Ms Patriot sucked in a breath, baby blues huge. The most incredible sensations filled her body, leaving her breathless and her mind sluggish. Ms Patriot wanted to fight, but her body wanted to play. It felt so damned good. 

“She likes that,” Mistress Tabitha purred. “But then, the bigger the heroine, the bigger the whore within. Ms Patriot is the greatest whore of all time!”

“Uggh!” the trembling heroine grunted round her ball-gag when her mistress’s fingers suddenly plunged deep into her pussy.

And then the redheaded brothel owner put her all into rubbing one out. Ms Patriot knew within seconds that she couldn’t win that battle. Her body responded exactly how her mistress wanted, starting to squirm, thrust her hips, and groan. Soon, her mind went blank and her head began lolling around.

“Aaaaagggghhh!” she screamed a moment later when Nirvana erupted within.

Wave after powerful wave of unadulterated pleasure consumed her body and left her mind totally blank and open to suggestion. Mistress Tabitha proved she understood how best to subjugate and train captured super heroines.

“You are my slave, Ms Patriot,” Tabitha whispered in her ear. “You love being my slave. You love being used and abused by men and women. You are nothing but a sexy fucktoy.”

Love, she thought. Fucktoy.

Mistress Tabitha pulled her hand back and licked her fingers. “Mmm, delish.”

Two bouncers came up at her summons. They removed the hobble chain. Then Mistress Tabitha slowly pulled Ms Patriot’s blue, star-spangled short-shorts down her long, shapely legs. The sexy heroine mindlessly, obediently stepped out of them without any prompting. And then the red and white striped bustier was removed.

Three more climaxes were forced out of the gorgeous super heroine. Mistress Tabitha proved her superiority. Proved her masterhood. Ms Patriot finally collapsed to her knees, huffing and puffing, spectacular body shiny with sweat.

All the while, the redheaded slave owner told Ms Patriot how pathetic she was, how worthless and stupid. Very stupid. So stupid she was lucky to be a slave. And after leading every single super heroine in Grimme City to their doom, she deserved to be a fucktoy sex slave. 

And she made the hapless heroine believe it.

Removing Ms Patriot’s ball-gag, the flame-haired beauty moved one thigh-booted foot forward. “Kiss it, slave. Kiss it. Lick it. Make love to my boot.”

Head still spinning, Ms Patriot looked down at the shiny, sexy booted foot. She licked her lips, feeling a deep compulsion to obey. To lick and kiss that boot. Something in the back of her head rebelled, but she leaned forward and gave that boot a big lick from pointy toe to ankle. And did it again, and again, and again. Soon, she was moaning and groaning as she nuzzled, kissed, and licked Mistress Tabitha’s foot and leg from front to back, and then up.

“Good girl.”

Ms Patriot smiled, all tingly.

Another slavegirl approached with a silver tray. Mistress Tabitha first removed the painful nipple clamps, placing them on the tray. Then she removed the collar from around Ms Patriot’s neck, placing it on the tray. 

Mistress Tabitha lifted a pair of very large silver hoop earrings, and hung them on Ms Patriot’s ears. Then she picked up a shiny, stainless steel collar off the tray. Holding the heroine’s baby blues, the dominatrix slowly encircled her slave’s slender neck, and snapped the collar closed. Instead of a lock, she inserted a screw to more permanently hold the collar in place.

Ms Patriot felt that act of enslavement profoundly, leaving her light-headed and breathless.

Then, the shapely redhead picked up a long, thick needle. The raven-maned heroine’s jaw dropped when her mistress pinched a still numb nipple, pulled it out, and then pierced it with the needle. She quickly inserted a silver barbell nipple stud. And then she repeated the process on the other nipple.

Mistress Tabitha picked up her riding crop again, and tapped the small of the enslaved heroine’s back.

“Tomorrow morning you will get a tattoo. A tramp stamp,” Tabitha purred, smiling cruelly. “My brand. It will identify you as a House of Joy pleasure slave.”

Attaching the leash to the new collar, Tabitha led the once proud beauty over to her favorite piece of bondage furniture. The padded, bondage horse was a single thick pedestal, with a padded A-frame atop it. The heroine was forced to lie face down atop it, the padded seat pressed up between her tits, down her belly, and ending just before her twat. Tabitha locked her ankles to the base. Then she attached the other end of the leash to the base as well, holding Ms Patriot firmly in place.

“You caused me a lot of grief over the years, Ms Patriot,” she purred, running her hand over the helpless beauty’s shapely butt. “Now you’re going to give me a lot more pleasure. You’re going to give everyone pleasure from this moment on.”

Ms Patriot remained silent, mind still in chaos after those last forced climaxes. She still felt a deep need to obey. Still, when she saw two other slavegirls help her mistress buckle on a strap-on with a monster dildo, she started to gnaw on her lip. It looked half-again too long and fat. 

That’s a bitch tamer, she thought, pussy already throbbing.

She tried to stand up, but her leash didn’t allow much play. Her legs were stretched straight, spread wide, and tightly bound in place. And Mistress Tabitha circled her once, stilettos clacking loudly in the hushed parlor. Everyone watched with bated breath, eager see the world famous super heroine finally get her comeuppance.

Mistress Tabitha stopped to the heroine’s left side, and lift up her riding crop.

“Nothing tames the savage beast within a super heroine like judiciously applied pleasure and… Pain.”

The riding crop came whistling down. THWACK!

“Aaaaiiiieee!”

“No, the correct respond is,” Tabitha said with a wicked smirk. “Thank you, Mistress. May I have another? Now say it.”

“Th-Thank you, Mistress,” Ms Patriot gasped out. “M-May I have… Another?”

Thwack! Thwack!

“Aaaiiee. Oooh. Thank you, Mistress,” Ms Patriot gasp out, tears flooding her flushed face. “May I have another?”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Ms Patriot bucked and writhed, crying out with every strike. Mistress Tabitha continued until her slave’s butt cheeks were the perfect shade of red. And then she dropped the riding crop and moved up behind her slavegirl.

“Are you ready to party, Ms P?”

Mistress Tabitha swirled the tip of her massive dildo around the statuesque heroine’s sloppy wet pussy. After a moment of teasing and taunting, she pressed up to Ms Patriot’s entrance. One hand held onto a flaring hip, the other got a fistful of silky black hair, and then she THRUST her hips.

“Ugggh!” Ms Patriot grunted, eyes huge. “Too big! Too big!”

“Never too big,” Tabitha snarled, pulling back. She thrust again, even deeper.

“Ugggh! Goddess help me!”

The jubilant dominatrix plowed into her super responsive slavegirl with wild abandon. It didn’t take long to completely sheath that massive, ribbed and knobbed strap-on dildo up her pussy. Ms Patriot sang the sweetest song during it all.

“Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.”

The heroine’s eyes quickly glazed over. Her grunts grew quieter, even as her groans of pleasure began to bubble up. Before she knew it, Ms Patriot was thrusting back into that pounding. And her insides turned into a hot mess once again.

Mistress Tabitha banged her like a boss until she screamed her pleasure. And again. And again. The gorgeous redhead dominated the vanquished vigilante until her new slavegirl’s mind and body were putty.

Tabitha pulled out, hot, sweaty, and panting. “Whew. That was fun. Okay, my pretty pets, line up. Let the gangbang begin. Together, we will break, tame, and turn Ms Patriot into the most perfect, most submissive sex slave the world had ever seen.”

Sitting back on her throne, Mistress Tabitha watched as the first man stepped up behind Ms Patriot. He was a well-endowed Latino businessman. The heroine cried out satisfactory when he mounted.

As soon as Ms Patriot fell into the Curse of the Valkyries, Tabitha assigned two slavegirls to kneel to either side of the sex-delirious beauty and whisper worlds of submission and obedience into her receptive brain.

Before this evening is up, you will be forever changed and a slave.