The Ultimate Superheroines Forum

Stress Balls, Ball Gags, and Bad Decisions

The drug deal had been a bad idea. They had distributors. They had networks. They had layers upon layers of distance between the street people and the money laundering. This was for the organizations protection. It was, by nature, expensive and inefficient. The cost ate deeply into profits, but the product produced so much profit that the piece of the pie that was left after every layer took its piece was still bigger than the gross national product of the country the drug came from. Except Junior wanted more. He wanted to cut out the “parasites” leaching off his families profits. He wanted to see the street price of the drugs actually put in his hands. No middle men, no third parties. No firewalls between risk and reward to protect the family. Just one arrogant bastard who thought that he knew better than the hard eyed old men who got through the war on drugs, the war between the Cartels, and survived to quietly pick up enough pieces to hold one corner of the market for their own.

Junior was not Jorje Mendoza, the Patron. Junior was not even Esteban Mendoza, the one who chose to play second to a succession of rising stars during the bloody cartel wars and quietly accept the loss of seventy percent of his assets when the caped crusaders responded to the blood bath by taking over from police and rolling up the networks themselves. He had cut his ties and took the loss, waiting a decade to quietly rebuild smaller and trade a smaller cut for another layer of safety. No, Junior thought betting big on the size of his balls and the fact that he had never been proven wrong in his twenty one years was a sign from god that he was the future king of crime. That put him in a room in the Pan Pacific with six bodyguards and three “gang leaders” that were actually two DEA and one FBI as he turned over twelve suitcases full of cocaine for as many duffel bags of cash.

When the badges came out, and the take down team blew the door, “Tiger” Thompson knitted his hands behind his head and knelt. His job was to keep Junior safe for the Mendoza’s, and this just became a matter for lawyers. Junior doubled down on stupid, and drew his tiny machine pistol and sprayed fifty rounds of .22 across head level for the agents. He cut down the plain clothes DEA and FBI, while flattening tiny slugs on the front of the helmets of the heavily armoured take down team. Tiger knew what came next, and tackled his boss, as his superhuman toughness absorbed most of the hail of return fire that hosed Junior down. He stopped every slug meant for his torso and head, even grabbed his arms so they would stay safe. Unfortunately, blowing the heads apart of three agents to start a gunfight escalates things quickly. Junior’s both feet and legs were shattered by multiple shotgun and submachine gun blasts. Doctors had to take his legs off above the knee.

Junior Mendoza rolled on his family, and as part of his deal with the DEA, he had them spin it so “Tiger” Thompson was publicly the rat.

“Sweet Willie” Stevens sat across the viewing plexiglass from his foster brother and grinned. Sweet Willie always grinned. He was a sugar pimp, his super power allowing him to get the sweetest and rarest of girls on his string. His product was so in demand that his business had switched from primarily an escort service to primarily an information brokerage because Sweet Willie’s girls were literally a breed apart from the whores run by other pimps.

“Relax bro. The family’s lawyers will look after me. I saved Junior from his latest fuckup. They may have to support the little idiot inside, but it isn’t like they can’t see he runs the prison network at least because with three dead agents on camera he isn’t getting out. I didn’t even draw a weapon, and took Junior down before he could get his ass killed. Worst thing that can happen is I keep drawing my pay for keeping the little moron safe inside, rather than on the streets. The family knows they can trust me.” Tiger said to his foster brother.

Sweet Willie sighed. Tiger was six and a half feet of calm black muscle, his super power making his skin and muscles bullet proof and able to bend iron bars. He never got angry, and he never got mad. He was good at keeping things calm. He had kept an angry white boy who was too quick with a knife and too angry to be talked down from getting himself killed until a decent (not great) foster home and a new brother could teach him not everyone was a predator out to hurt him. Sweet Willie trusted his brother, but he also knew his brother trusted other people way too far. Sweet Willie’s power was touch telepathy, sort of. His touch telepathy only worked with internal contact. For an abuse survivor that was not good; he knew what the people abusing him were thinking. For a budding pimp, it made any woman he was with an open book. Worse, he could take her through her every dark fantasy, find every single thing she was secretly yearning for and use it to train her that he alone could provide it. Sweet Willie got off on taking the wealthy and powerful, the perfectly controlled and proud ones, and making them part of his string. They made him money, because they were the kinds of women you could not buy, because they couldn’t be bought. Unless you had Willie’s number. The information they had access to on their own, or from bedroom talk from powerful men who felt compelled to try to impress the women in their beds they knew truly were out of their league was enough to give him better intelligence than some first world intelligence services. It also gave him even deeper trust issues.

“They have been shaking the trees too hard. They are flexing on the street, and it worries me bro. I got people who tell me their lawyers aren’t being permitted to see Junior, on Juniors say so. That doesn’t sound right. I think I am going to go visit the family and make sure everything is still cool.” Sweet Willie said, smiling softly. He had access. During college, he had been tapped with keeping Junior under control. He had made sure that Junior had “girlfriends” keeping him from doing anything stupid when he got told no. They were some of his special girls, so they were enough smarter than Junior that he never suspected his girlfriend and side chick were not his conquests but his handlers. The family always knew Junior was in need of handlers, and Sweet Willie had been the go to pimp even then. He had access; if he didn’t work for the family directly, he was the one they went to when they had high level guests that needed entertainment that would not only be discrete, but stroke egos and guide conversations subtly enough to keep dangerous and dominant men with conflicting interests from turning a social event into a war zone.

Sweet Willie was flirting with Isabella D’Angello, who is one of the legal team. Not the ones who do the big meetings, but the ones who do the real work; they ones that look for both the legal angles to use, and the leverage the family can bring to bear, to come up with the short list of options for the big names to lay before the family head. He handed her a cupcake with a ridiculous amount of icing formed into a perfect red rose. She was perennially on a diet and hit the gym with the obsession of a woman who had a weight issue in puberty and could never really let it go. She also had a weakness for Sweet Willie and was under the delusion he didn’t know it. Sweet Willie made her laugh with a double entendre while she was taking a careful bite, and when she laughed she got red icing on her nose.

Sweet Willie gently scooped the icing off her nose, and proffered it on his finger, the red icing swirled around his finger tip making it look like a rampant cock, even as he smiled like an innocent school boy, giving the illusion this was an innocent act so that she could feel she was the one choosing this flirtation. She took it into her mouth and sucked on it lovingly. His power flowed into her mind, accentuating her sexual enjoyment of the act of sucking on his finger as she imagined doing it to Sweet Willie’s cock. As his power flowed into her mind through the contact, Sweet Willie smiled and said, seemingly offhand.

“Shame about Junior and Tiger. I trust the family is taking care of them?” Sweet Willie asked.

Isabella had a very compartmentalized mind. Simultaneously her personal side was dreaming about tying his hands to the top of the bed and sucking his cock to the edge of completion and then keeping him there for hours, making him confess his undying love before she let him shoot his cum into her loving mouth where she would make sure she alone could taste it. Her professional side was thinking something very different. Something about hiring mercenaries to make sure that traitor was taken care of. Ironic to send dragons to hunt tigers, but that was what it took to take down a superhuman traitor to the family.

Sweet Willie saw the image, Dragon ATGM, anti-tank guided missiles. They were going to kill Tiger. Some idiot convinced them the loyalist soldier any syndicate ever had was a traitor and they were going to kill him.

He was a professional, he touched the button on his cuff that sent an automatic alarm to his phone. He made a show of checking his phone, sighing, and telling Isabella he had some urgent business to take care of. He kept it to a walk until he was out of sight. He was on the phone to his own enforcers as he broke into a run for his car. “Where is my brother? Look out for kill squads, the family is doing something stupid.” Sweet Willie was half way through barking instructions when he heard the explosions.

An armoured prisoner transfer van had exploded. Two teams with heavy anti tank rockets had engaged it and turned the officers inside and the prisoner into so much burned meat, and the armoured car into a raging inferno of unrecognizable origin. The team responsible was heavily armed, and well prepared. The police who attempted to pursue were met with another anti tank missile, showing that no man could survive pursuing the kill team as they fled.

Everyone has their favorite superhero or heroine. When they are boys and girls, they tend to pick an idol they want to be like. When they grow up, they often find themselves fixating on the ones they would like to fuck instead.

Paladin was the object of much of this.

She had been an archeology student on a dig in the Spanish mountains when she uncovered Durendal, the legendary holy sword of Huon of the Horn. Transformed by its holy power, she was blessed with the strength of a hundred knights, armoured with the mantle of the Archangel Gabriel to turn aside all earthly weapons, gifted by the fairy King Oberon with immunity to magic. Armed with a sword that could cut through stone and steel as if it were warm butter, and the wings of an Archangel to fly, she was a vision of purity that sailed above a world too base for her perfection.

She had been an athletic girl, a blonde vision of a coed whose presence is short shorts and a halter top barely containing her breasts did much to make the whole dig team motivated to get up to work every day, even if her persistent rebuff of every attempt to get into those delightful little pants failed utterly against a soul that was even then too pure for this world.

The power of the blade Durendal magnified all that she was. Her already amazing clean cut girl next door beauty became beyond the best CGI artificial perfection. Her fit and toned body became like that of a Valkyrie, that of a born and trained warrior. Her naturally ample female assets were likewise magnified to comic book proportions.

To say that her red crossed white crusader mantle did little to hide her curves was true. The chain mail she had originally worn had been slowly blasted away, to be replaced with mail forged of holy light as the Archangels rewarded her purity with greater protection than any enchanted steel.

The loving telephoto lenses of her fans and enemies agreed that one thing this glowing holy mail was, was almost transparent. Her body was clad in glowing gold chain mail that you could almost see through, or totally see through with a computer filter. Only the damned crusader robe hid the tips of those amazing breasts and the soft valley of those amazing hips from view.

She was the go to heroine in the spank banks of most prisons, half of which she had filled. She was also one of the premiere superheroines for a reason. She didn’t do superhero speeches or strike superhero poses, she was just what she said. A Paladin. A crusader of Justice, unstoppable sword in hand, and golden armour of holy light wrapping her in the protection of her faith. She dropped from the sky onto the hood of the get away vehicle of the first set of mercenaries and put the engine block into the pavement. The airbags deployed to stun the driver and passenger, but when a mercenary from the back seat tried to bring his AR-15 up, she stepped onto the roof and drove Durendal down through it into the mercenaries brain.

Her voice magnified by her armour in a way technology had never been able to detect, it rang clearly in the ears of everyone in a half kilometer radius.

“To the armoured criminals fleeing the scene of the prisoner ambush. Surrender while you have all both limbs and life. You do not need both to testify.” Paladin spoke, giving her only warning.

In reply automatic fire splashed onto her armour and she dashed quickly towards the nearest car, cutting through automatic rifles and pistols, sometimes taking hands and arms with them as she disarmed the mercenaries, moving too fast to track, and utterly ignoring the small caliber gunfire. The far team had time to play their trump card, and fired their last anti-tank rocket at the glowing Paladin.

The footage would play in slow motion on half the screens in the nation for weeks. She turned to face the incoming missile, raised her sword into Tierce, hand near her hip, blade in line with her forward knee, and then lunged tip outward to impale the incoming missile with her holy sword. They explosion was directed by the lunging blade back at the last carload of thugs, including the launching ones, leaving them battered, bruised, unconscious, but alive. With a flourish and salute, she sheathed her sword, and raised her voice for emergency services to attend the captured criminals.

Speaking at the scene to her friend Detective Chastity Blake, she wasn’t liking what she was hearing.

“It makes no sense. Tiger didn’t roll on anyone. He just requested his lawyer and sat quietly to broker a plea deal for manslaughter, as he admits to being part of the attempted drug sale where agents got killed but had no involvement with the killing except bringing the shooter down, even if it was mostly to save Junior’s life. Junior was the one that rolled on his family, and no one made a try for him. If this wasn’t the Mendoza’s trying to shut up a snitch, maybe it was some sort of inter-gang thing, or some sort of power struggle in the family. If it is, then this wasn’t the last killing, it was the first. If they are using anti tank rockets in the opening skirmish, how bloody is it going to get before it is over?” The Detective whispered, her coffee cup shaking in her hands.

Paladin grabbed her hands with her own. “Do not worry Chastity. I will look into it.”

Detective Blake looked at the six foot knight in glowing sunlight mail kept from showing off a porn star’s wishlist body to the world by the demure red crossed white surcoat of the crusaders. “Um, Paladin, I know you mean well, but you don’t exactly blend”

Paladin grinned behind her helm, only her full lips showing in the playful smile as she told her friend an unsuspected truth. “You do realize that when I dismiss them, without the armour and the sword, I look quite a bit different. I have walked the streets of this and other cities every day since I found the sword, and no one has ever suspected my identity.”

Detective Blake’s eyes went wide. “What do you need?”

Paladin smiled. “I need a warrant for surveillance, which will be easy to get because no one has every managed to get anything near the Mendoza’s. Not even their bought judges even bother blocking such requests. Then I need one of those little camera balls with the microphone and wireless broadcasters. I will get into the club the Mendoza’s run as just another party girl. My armour and sword are magic. They come when I summon them, so I don’t have to smuggle anything in, if I need them, they just appear. I have enough mental magic to keep people from noticing me. All I have to do is get it where they will be meeting, then stay within range for the transmitter in my bag to pick up its signal and we get everything they say in their meeting on record whether I recover the device or not. If I get discovered, I just armour up and take them out for assault if they react with violence. Either way, we get them.

Meanwhile, Sweet Willie looked at his girls. The one who was blowing him right now was an Assistant District Attorney, while the one whose tits he was sucking on was a senior financial manager for the Mendoza’s money laundering operation. His mind was doing what it did best, letting these women live their fantasy of being sexual objects trained to serve the pleasure of their chosen master, while processing the information they brought him as tribute. The facts were clear. Junior rolled on the family like the useless punk that he was, and he made the feds paint a target on good old loyal to a fault Tiger instead. The family never bothered to check, never bothered to verify, they just killed his goddamned brother because Junior was a stupid gutless bitch. He was going to make them pay, but he wasn’t Tiger, he didn’t have the strength to go after them himself. He was a pimp, and information broker. Bitches and secrets were his weapons.

He would have to use those to break them.

His two pets were kissing to exchange a snowball, swapping his cum between their mouths as they kissed, desperate to show their submission to him. He stroked both of their hair as they whimpered in pleasure at his touch. The Mendoza money manager opened her mouth to offer.

“Sweet, I can start digging for you, I can find you away to bring the whole family down!” She said, stroking his thigh as she offered.

Sweet Willie smacked her face, firmly, not hard enough to damage, but hard enough to show he was not joking.

“No. You are my bitches. My bitches are safe. I don’t send my bitches into danger. Your only job is to keep me happy, and its my job to keep you safe. Now, let me show you how happy you bitches have made me. Get that sweet ass up on all fours, I am going to give you a reminder of the kind of magic Sweet Willie can work on you. My little lawyer, why don’t you scoot under your sister slut and kiss her little clitty better? Why don’t you show my what you learned in that women’s only college I found you at, and help her come just like you did, suma cum laude?”

His two bitches started working on their reward as he fucked them back into happy submission. No, the Mendoza’s had killed their loyalist soldier when they killed his foster brother. Tiger and he didn’t look alike, a blond pimp and a black enforcer, but they were the only family the other had. They never told anyone in the family about their relation. Politics in family can be a thing, and you don’t put people you love in the crosshairs. The family had killed his brother, and didn’t know it. He wasn’t going to give them a chance to kill one of his girls as they flailed around making stupid choices. He would find a way, a way to use his stupid useless telepathy, his pimp power as Tiger called it, to bring them down.

Find the bitch, find the way. That had been his path to power so far. It would be his path to revenge.

Two nights later, there was a big meeting with the Mendoza leadership in one of their nightclubs. It was a great place for a meeting because everyone had an excuse to come to the public part, and those “in the know” had ever reason to go to the private part, where the illegal gambling and very discrete drug trade for the social elites was conducted. It made the location secure from anything so crass as police surveillance or raids. The third layer was the family portion, where the highest level meetings could be conducted, just out of sight, but secure from any prying eyes. The vices indulged there had nothing to do with consuming drugs, they had to do with high level corruption, political favours, and quiet conversations about who is about to die.

Sweet Willie was going to be called into that meeting, the meeting about who has to die next, because Tiger was dead, and the case was still going forward. They didn’t know and would never expect Junior was the rat, they were going to keep stacking bodies while their shit of a son sold them out. Sweet Wilie was about to be asked in to a meeting to figure out who else they could kill to make this problem go away. He was armed only with his wits, no one whose name wasn’t Mendoza got to be armed in that meeting, and he didn’t even have a girl with him. He was out of ideas, and looking for inspiration in the bottom of a gin and tonic when he spotted her.

Blond, about six feet, athletic build, moved like a lioness pretending to be a gazelle, tits that bounced beneath that dress like they were on a mission from god to give the world serious wood and shut off every male brain. The problem was the face. The face looked like a party girl out to have a good time. They eyes however were a different kind of predator. She wasn’t playing “the game”, she was hunting some. Oddly, no one gave her the once over at the door. She was new to him, so not a regular. On this night, even he got searched, but she moved through like nobody noticed her. That was not natural. People moved out of her way, so she wasn’t straight up invisible, but if he had to guess, she was working some sort of “ignore me” mojo that allowed her to blend. She looked amazingly hot, so from a distance anyone would think she belonged, but close everyone would find their attention fixed just a little faster on everyone else around her. It was a neat trick, but even his shitty touch telepathy gave his mind shields enough to block it out.

Sweet Willie looked longer, over the rim of his glass, and noticed her purse. There was a black circular ball as part of the bag’s bottom front edge. No one was giving it a second look. Blackmail was a big part of Sweet Willie’s business model, and he knew every type of ‘not on the market but it exists’ surveillance technology out there. That little gem was called a black diamond. It was a camera with 270 degree visual, full audio in super high definition, enough to get really good voice prints and even voice stress analysis. The only weakness, or secondary strength, is that it had onboard storage and a really low power transmitter. Good for maybe twenty meters. There was a booster unit that went with it that was as thick as two fingers and a little longer, but it was not stealthy at all, because it was a powerful enough transmitter to get through most passive signal blockers. Police intelligence units had to ask really nicely to be allowed to use them, the NSA fought congress to keep even the FBI from getting to use them domestically. The CIA gave them out like candy when they needed to make themselves popular with domestic intelligence and law enforcement, so Sweet Willie knew all about them. He also knew that hot blond would be cooling to freezing in the meat locker two floors down when she tried to get it into the third layer of the Mendoza security. You couldn’t beat tech scanners with mind control. Anything that broadcast would be detected. Anything that reacted to the signals they scan put out would be detected. Whether they had been noticing her or not before the alarm went off, the alarms would bring the muscle down on her for a quick take down, some hard questions after which the eventual bullet would be a mercy.

She had a mistake, but Sweet Willie had his bitch.

You couldn’t sneak that ball in, nor could you sneak a transmitter. You could not be subtle and get past raging paranoids. You needed balls. Great big brass ones, like the ones hanging beneath Sweet Willies second most dangerous weapon.

Paladin was moving through the crowd, looking for one of the faces she knew would be drifting out of the public area and into the secret half of the club. She had memorized all of the faces Detective Blake had given her. She would let the poor fool think he was picking her up, and then let him lead her into the den of iniquity. Her own magic would be enough to fog his mind enough to not notice when she took a little too long in the ladies room, time enough to infiltrate and plant her camera for the Mendoza family conference. She would let him impress her with the gambling and even put up with a certain amount of handsy male harassment if it kept her purse with its base unit in range of the Black Diamond camera long enough to get the evidence to bring down the Mendoza family. She was unprepared when a tall, hard bodied blond man with a laughing face and the cruelest eyes she had ever seen swung her against his body and twirled her onto the dance floor.

“You are far too beautiful to die tonight. What the Mendoza would leave of you could not be identified by dental records. That camera you have will not beat the detectors at the door to the private quarters, and the rooms are a Faraday Cage, so no signal is getting out of there to the unit in your purse. No sweet cheeks,” He said as he reached down and cupped her toned and well rounded ass in his hands, “If you want to get that in, you are going to have to let me smuggle your own sweet ass in there my way. Do what I tell you, and I will help you bring them all down.”

Paladin didn’t panic, she had been blessed by the Holy Sword Durandal, she could hear the truth, she could hear lies. Most people wove the two together almost unconsciously, deceiving themselves as much as others. This man spoke the truth.

“All right, what do I have to do.” Paladin said.

Sweet Willie spun her around on the dance floor, pulling her to him, grinding her against his hardening cock as he let his hands roam over her curves. He could feel her body stiffen in instinctive resistance, but as he kissed below her ear he whispered.

“I am a pimp. Not just any pimp, I am the one who supplies girls for the most elite family guests and parties, the one who managed to keep Junior from raping anyone in college because my girls were keeping his impulse control issues ass handled. You need to sell yourself tonight as one of mine. A proper upright woman of high education and status who got addicted to Sweet Willies depraved perversions and let herself get tricked into being a plaything. You have to sell that sugar, if you want me to get your sweet ass and that camera into that room when the meeting is on, right in front of god and everyone.” Sweet Willie whispered while his hand ground her ass onto his hard foot long bitch tamer, while his other came slowly up her side to openly caress her breast on the dance floor as he nibbled at her neck.

She opened her mouth to object, but her mind was working the tactical situation almost instinctively, and her truth sense was stretching to absorb the truth of his words. Not mixed, not slanted, not shaded. Straight unspun facts. While she struggled to deal with the lack of deception, her body was responding to his, she had been partially focusing on moving with him on the dance floor, so she had been getting into the sensual rhythm they had been producing, and her own body was that of a peak human animal, an athlete, a warrior, a creature of absolute physicality and passion. Such a creature has other needs, physical needs and instincts unrelated to battle, and they were all howling and clawing at her divided concentration for a chance to take the wheel. Her objection came out as a moan as she felt her nipples stiffen under his expert touch.

He took the decision out of her hands. He simply ordered her. “Enough wasted time. I will need to prepare you. Come now to the private half of the club. There is a room there for “entertainment”. I need to change your outfit and your attitude. When I am done, every eye will be on you, but not one of them will see you. No one is sneaking anything past the detectors, so we will do the opposite of hiding. You are going to be 100% revealed, and that is how we smuggle it in.”

(this was the setup chapter. Don’t worry, it gets 100% dirty from here)

Sweet Willie took his hot blond probably Fed, because no local cop would be stupid enough to try to bring a bug into the Mendoza cartel’s headquarters front, through the common area and off to one of the private “play” rooms that his oh so very special membership card caused to open with a cheerful electronic chirp. Once he swept her into the room, he spun her to face him. He smiled, wide and charming.

“Greetings Special Agent Fuckmeat, I am Sweet Willie Stevens, you have probably heard of me. I am the kind of pimp Congressmen don’t get to call, you have to be at least a Senator to get my number, although for the right price, I do have a Congresswoman that will be available for very special clients. My women are the kind that can’t be bought, can’t be intimidated, and don’t have to come across to get the starring role or vice president position. They are only available because they will do anything and anyone to keep me happy. Every man who buys a night with them knows he is getting to experience what he has no right to ever expect to touch again. That is what you are going to have to be to get in that door with your little Black Diamond and its little base station transmitter. I am your only way in, but I can not only get your camera in, I can get you in the room when the bad men are talking about the bad things, and not one of them will question your being there.” Sweet Willie walked around her slowly, his hand trailing down her dress to trace the curve of her generously rounded ass before giving it a hard slap.

“I don’t know what you think you know, but all I need is access to that room for a moment before the meeting, nothing else. And you can keep your hands to yourself, pimp. My name is….” Paladin started before he flicked her forehead with his finger.

“Stop talking. My bitches are famous because they know how to be quiet, and how to use their mouth to please men. A normal whore only knows how to please men by sucking cock, but my bitches know how to lead a conversation to let a man show off, to let him naturally express his power and let him think he is making her desire him based on his own amazing personality, strength, wealth, celebrity, or whatever bullshit he tells himself makes him deserve the company of a woman who would not piss on him if he was on fire. You? You can’t do any of that. Maybe you can suck cock, I don’t know, but one thing you can do is shut up, and that is how I can get you and your little toy in.”

Paladin was deeply upset by his dismissal. I mean not that she wanted to defend her ability to suck cock. She had kept herself pure during high school by being willing to suck her boyfriend off, and had gotten good enough at it that he hadn’t felt the need to go off and nail the nearest slut who would want to bang the basketball scholarship student and son of the local real estate mogul. She decided to settle the question of need right off. “What do you mean that you have the only way through that door. I guarantee if I don’t want it noticed it won’t be noticed.” Paladin said, smug in the skills of a superheroine even if she couldn’t admit to being one.

Sweet Willie pressed himself to her back, crossing his arms beneath her breasts, letting his hands rest just shy of cupping them as he let her feel the hot steel bar of his cock press between her ass cheeks as he nibbled on her ear and explained softly.

“I saw your little trick, whatever mojo you are using to not get noticed didn’t work on me. Think about that, you don’t know why, and you don’t know who else has it. One thing you have to know now is that I did the defenses for this place. There is no way anyone can take any transmitter in there unnoticed. Alarms will go off. You will be noticed, you will be caught if you sneak it in. They will run your fingerprints, your DNA, and your eye scan through the Department of Justice and the military databases to see if any files exist, and when they come up with a result, even if they can’t access it, the men with the pliers and electrodes come to play, and what they leave behind will be glad of a bullet. No Special Agent Fuckmeat, I don’t want your name, I don’t want your speech, I don’t care about your plan. I will tell you two things. First, the Mendoza family fucked up and killed my brother, even if they don’t know it. Second, I can walk you, and your camera, right past their guards. I can put you standing right beside Old Man Mendoza for the whole meeting, with your camera right in his face, close enough to get a good voiceprint off every single asshole at the table as they discuss in depth felonies past and future. Now, while the Faraday cage built into the walls means that you can’t get a cunt hair of signal out of there, it doesn’t block transmission inside, so your toy can send it all to the base unit that everyone present will see, will detect and will ignore because Sweet Willie is that fucking good. So, Special Agent Fuckmeat, are you willing to be my bitch for the night, and bring down the Mendoza, on camera?” Sweet Willie said, letting his hands work her breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, pinching and twisting her nipples as they extended.

Paladin whimpered, her knees trying to buckle as he worked her breasts, in wiggling to get away from his touch, her muscular ass cheeks clenched against the hard shaft of an improbably large cock, reminding her of her own nightly need of silicone based assistance in her own unrequited sensual needs. Having a body whose abilities, energies, and health was boosted far beyond the human left her with sexual needs equally enhanced. As Paladin, the chosen warrior of God, wielder of the Holy Sword Durendal, she couldn’t exactly squeeze in a regular dating life in addition to hero work and keeping a professional bill paying secret identity going. The clinching factor was the signal blocker. If the signal couldn’t be broadcast out, she would have to walk it in, and walk it out. Sweet Willie had a plan.

“What do I need to do?” Paladin asked, her voice husky and almost panting.

Sweet Willie Pulled out a cigar shaped object. “You see this? This is a very special electronic tool. It burns a mark into the skin, a mark that is infused with special circuitry that is read by an ap that I sell to my clients. It can be read by their phones to confirm for both my clients and my girls that they are indeed with the date I licenced them to. It is my trademark if you will, my brand. You will need to wear it.”

Paladin had not summoned her armour or her sword, but she already had the strength of ten men without it. She balled her fist and reached for the rage, how dare he try to brand Paladin? Except, he wasn’t branding Paladin. He was branding Special Agent Fuckmeat, a federal officer that was being tricked into playing whore for a night. It wasn’t really her, was it? Special Agent Fuckmeat wouldn’t have to answer to her superiors, so there were no consequences for this hypothetical agent. She felt her pussy start to heat, felt herself wiggling again as the tingling in her privates reminded her how much she would be needing her magic wand when she got home tonight. The idea of this PIMP putting a brand on her was so dirty, she found her breath going faster, her heartbeat racing. His fingers working her nipples were not helping. They were confusing her. She groaned as she found herself grinding back into his cock.

It was for Justice. It was a sacrifice for a noble cause. God asked her to offer her body to suffer whatever trials he demanded in his service. This was such a trial. For Holy God, she would do it! She bent her head to the side, exposing the neck he was nibbling on. Honestly Sweet Willie put the mark on their ass cheeks, so a scan of their ass with the phone would be enough, but where anything short of a thong could cover it. His women were either current or future leaders in industry, politics, sports, civil service, banking, or law; he would never compromise them. Special Agent Fuckmeat was not one of his girls beyond tonight. If she wanted it on her neck, visible to the world, well, how could he not send her back to law enforcement with his pimp brand on her. They put his brother in the prison van he died in. Let them know he took one of theirs in return. He pressed the branding tool into her neck and his chain link stemmed rose was written in her flesh in silver circuitry. It is important to chip your pets after all.

She ground back into his cock, she didn’t scream or whimper. Fucking hell. That was a brand. Electronic or not, those things fucking hurt. What was up with Special Agent Fuckmeat here that she didn’t even try to scream. How high a pain threshold did she have, or was she into it. Oh, now, that gave him something to work with.

He licked her ear, and bit it. “You like pain don’t you Special Agent Fuckmeat, to keep you safe tonight, we will drop the special agent, and just call you Fuckmeat. So tell me, Fuckmeat, are you good with pain?” He said, biting down on her earlobe.

Paladin was growing very wet. This was turning her on for reasons she could not define. No one had ever dared to talk to her this way, to handle her this way. She would enjoy snapping him in half when this was over, to punish him for his insolence and disrespect.

“Yes, I am good with pain.” Groaned Paladin, beginning to rub up and down against his cock.

Sweet Willie grabbed her by both nipples and yanked hard. “Yes SIR when you talk to me. You are my bitch Fuckmeat. Make a mistake like that again and we both get killed. Tell me you understand!” Sweet Willie raged as he tried to lift her by her nipples, she danced on her toes trying to relieve the pressure.

“Yes sir, yes sir, yes sir. I swear I will remember, I will!” Paladin found herself begging. She could feel everything he was doing, but she could not reveal that she could overpower him at any time. She felt the pain, but her healing meant that any damage repaired right away. It was humiliating that he could control her with something that left no damage at all. She had taken a tank killing missile, taken heavy machine gun fire. Granted that was armoured, but to be controlled by a pimp gripping her nipples was deeply shameful. God in heaven, why is my pussy wet, she thought.

Sweet Willie smiled. The set up was complete. Now she was ready for his plan. Now she understood the stakes, and he had a good idea she could pull her part off.

Sweet Willie pulled the camera from her bag, the black ball rolling to a stop against her phone as he tossed out her fake ID and the cylindrical transmitter/recorder base station. He took the ball and walked to the drawers in the private sex room, searching until he found a ball gag harness of the right style. He replaced the ball gag with the camera ball, being careful to move the camera part out, and the dangerously different backside to be held by the harness inside her mouth. He took the base station, and felt around until he found a stainless steel jewel backed butt plug of sufficient diameter. He unscrewed the cap and slid out the vibrator that was inside, and slid in the base station.

“Alright Fuckmeat, here is the thing. No one is going to allow a stranger to see or hear anything in that room and come out alive, so for your protection, you are not going to be seeing or hearing anything. This ball will do the seeing and hearing, and this base station will do the remembering. No one can sneak them in and they will set off all the detectors. You aren’t going to hide them, you are going to display them. You are going to be such a hot needy piece of fuck meat, so helpless and ready to be abused that no one is going to see you as anything but an object. You are going to be just that, Fuckmeat, an object. You are going to be a piece of office furniture, a stress relief device that I am helpfully bringing in so that the big man can relax and make better decisions. If you want to sell this you are going to have to stop thinking like Special Agent Fuckmeat, out to bring down the Mendoza crime syndicate as an agent of justice, and think like Fuckmeat, a proud independent woman who has been betrayed by a body that needs to be used as a plaything for rough men to prove their dominance. You will do nothing but be helpless, focusing only on how you are being used, how you exist only to be used, how you need to be used, beg to be used, and express gratitude at being used. Do that, and we can put you at Old Man Mendoza’s side for the whole meeting, and walk your pretty ass out with a conviction lodged up that tight little ass of yours.”

As Sweet Willie talked he had been rubbing the butt plug all over her face, and eventually her lips. She had found herself opening her mouth to take the butt plug into her mouth as he talked to her. She felt like a whore taking the nasty thing into her mouth. Then again, she needed to be a whore to do her job tonight, that was what she told herself. She began to suck on the stainless butt plug, thinking it impossible something so large could fit up her virgin ass.

“Get naked, you won’t be wearing anything except toys, that is how you get in. No one searches a naked woman, and no one does a cavity search on a woman with a vibrating butt plug sparkling right between her ass cheeks. They already know they have the answer, so they stop looking. Plus your sweet D cup titties being in their face tends to distract them.” Sweet Willie said to her as if it was the most reasonable request in the world. Paladin was not thinking clearly, how could she object on moral grounds with a mouth full of butt plug? She stripped. As she was naked, she took the plug out and asked shyly.

“I don’t think I can do this. The plug barely fits in my mouth, and I haven’t had anything back there, not even a finger.” She blushed as she admitted this, but Sweet Willie could smell her arousal, and her thin blond pubes failed to conceal a flower that was wet with dew and opening on its own. Oh yes, he was a sugar pimp and knew well the scent of whore honey. Sweet Willie spun her around, and pushed her over the leather topped fuck bed.

He spread her cheeks wide, and enjoyed the look of her little pink rosebud. “You are in good hands my dear, I have opened many a maiden to the joys of finally understanding she was given three holes to please men with, and she needs to use them all. Sweet Willie is going to send you to paradise, and open you for business.” With a final chuckle, he pressed his lips to her ass, and began to drill her tight virgin rosebud like he was tunneling to freedom.

Paladin was a good and virtuous girl. She wasn’t a virgin, she had loved a boy before her holy calling taught her that battle not marriage was her fate and service, but never had she felt anything like the feeling that came from Sweet Willie’s tongue violating her maiden asshole. She began to whimper and cry out, finally taking the butt plug back in her mouth to silence her screaming as Sweet Willie began to rim her ass. He brought up one hand beneath her, working her clit and her pussy as he drilled her ass, and took her to her first orgasm with just his tongue in her ass and fingers thrusting into her pussy. Instead of letting her come down, he took the fingers that had been buried in her cunt, and replaced his tongue with them. First one, then two, finally three, he slowly finger fucked her well tongued ass into submission, before sliding his left under her pussy again to focus on rubbing her clit in time with thrusting into her asshole. When she was thrusting back against his fingers as hard as she could, he redoubled his finger fucking until she dropped the butt plug from her mouth and screamed.

Smiling, thinking it a shame he wasn’t going to get to keep this one, Sweet Willie knew she was ready to be the perfect Fuckmeat, and become the agent of his revenge. He took the butt plug with the bug base station in it and slowly inserted it into her asshole with a generous helping of lube. He was a good pimp. Un-lubed asses meant negative first experiences, which meant negative body reactions, which made for a poor quality lay. Girls that got off made his customers feel like bull cocked gods, not losers who had to pay for it. It was all about preserving product quality after all. He had read her mind as he ass fucked her. She really was working hard to convince herself that she was martyring herself for Holy God and Justice. She was a walking bundle of sexual need, at this point he could convince her that she needed to service the 101st Airborne for the good of America and the whole division would be in danger of death by Snu-Snu as she found the minimum number of hoses required to put out the fire burning in that untrimmed blond bush. No one would question her being his whore. It wasn’t a lie anymore.

“Here is how it is going to be Fuckmeat, you are going to get us both killed if you try to talk, so we are smuggling your camera in as your ball gag. Just face straight ahead where I point you and know you are getting the whole room, sound and picture. You wouldn’t be allowed to see anything or hear anything, so you are going in blindfolded with my patented training montage playing in your ears to keep you from hearing anything. I am going to handcuff you, and lead you in by the collar on your neck. You are there to serve as stress relief for Old Man Mendoza, because he is this close to shooting his way into the county jail to get his baby boy back, and even the family needs him to calm down just a bit before starting WWIII. You are going to get spanked, groped, fingered, sucked, probably bit, maybe slapped. The whole time you are going to have the old man or me playing with the controls on your vibrator.”

Sweet Willie broke off as the butt plug in Paladin’s ass started to vibrate loudly. She squealed.

“Yeah, fun fact, the software in this thing is the same as an I-vibe in a lot of ways. They have a loud vibrator function for some stupid reason, probably to expedite retrieval when they forgot where they hid the fucking thing, but it really does make your butt plug into a functional, controllable vibrator. Since it is Bluetooth controlled, everyone is going to detect it as a transmitter, yet no one is going to object. In the same way, your ears are going to be plugged with my little airpods, which will be playing the cock sucking hypnotic training track off my phone, so that while all these terrible criminals are pawing at your body, all you are going to hear is a sound track telling you how good girls suck cock. Again, everyone is going to detect transmitters working, but since everyone knows it is just slut training a whore, no one is going to think sweet little helpless Fuckmeat is busy destroying the whole Mendoza Cartel while cumming her box off being abused by criminals.”

Paladin looked with horror at the ear buds that Sweet Willie put in. They took all outside sound away, all she could hear is a woman’s voice repeating over and over again. She tried to tune it out, but when Sweet Willie put the cold steel collar on her, locking it tight, and slid the blindfold over her eyes, she was left with a stretched asshole whose vibrations were causing her over excited pussy to continue its growing hunger for use, and the voice.

“You are nothing but a set of tits and holes that exist to serve men. You love when men look at your body. They deserve to use you whenever they want. You want to be pleasing for them. You want to serve them. You want to feel their hands, their mouths, their teeth on your skin. You want to feel the marks of their hands, of their belts, of their whips on your skin. You aren’t brave enough to ask for what you need. They know what you need. They make you give it to them. They make you please them. You were not brave enough to ask them to. You don’t deserve the pleasure they give you. You need to prove you are a good girl for them. You need to be a good girl for them. Good girls know they are nothing but a set of tits and holes that exist to serve men.”

The voice made Paladin want to object, but as she felt Sweet Willie move her hands behind her back, locking them in place, she shuddered. He used the chain leash hanging from her collar to rub across both her nipples before pulling her to her feet. She arched her back, trying to get more contact. Sweet Willie laughed at how desperate she was. You couldn’t fake this. It had to be real. The men he was about to betray were the most dangerous predators on earth. Special Agent Fuckmeat here read as predator when she snuck in, if they read even a sniff of that, both her and he would die today. Right now, our little Fuckmeat radiated prey so hard every predator in the room is going to have a hard time keeping enough blood out of his cock to speak, and going to have to fight even harder to keep his mind on any subject other than what he wants to do with that sweet innocent piece of unspoiled Fuckmeat.

Using his keycard to exit the room, he stalked before the security station for the back room where the meeting would be starting very soon. The guards smirked, giving Fuckmeat a long slow once over. They watched the alarms go off, used the hand helds to confirm what was setting off, head and ass, made her dance and squeal testing that indeed his phone was transmitting only to the earbuds and the vibrator controls. They still didn’t want to let her in, standing orders forbade outsiders. They did the responsible thing, and called it in.

Jorje Torillo came to the door, and looked out. He threw a punch at Fuckmeat’s face, stopping right before and while both guards and Sweet Willie ducked, Fuckmeat stood clueless and non reactive, confirming she indeed could not see shit.

“Sweet, that is a nice piece, but why is she here. You know this is important right?” Jorje said, reaching down and cupping the blonde piece of fuckmeat’s D cupped breast and confirming that it was indeed, 100% purebred American woman, no implants. God damned, if he had another twenty minutes before the meeting he might let off a little steam with her himself.

“Jorje, you know the Old Man is on edge right? He popped Tiger and the DA are still going ahead like they didn’t lose anything. We all need the old man thinking with his brain not his trigger finger. We don’t want him pointing the family at the goddamned Feds, that isn’t a war we win. I figure if he has a nice pair of stress balls to work his frustration on, and maybe a little Anglo coochie to work off his excess testosterone, then we get some good choices and the family comes through. Fuckmeat here, she is a little special. She has a weakness you see, she likes it when guys play a little rough. She gets off on it. She can’t see nothing, can’t hear nothing. She don’t have a clue who is working her over. All she knows is those sweet unmarked white titties of hers are getting worked over, and that hot little box of hers is getting fingered or fucked. I figure worst case scenario, he leaves her with a few bruises, some nasty bite marks, maybe works her over with the belt and maybe dumps a load or two in her, and he calms the fuck down before we start shooting fucking missiles at the courthouse.”

Jorje looked at Willie in surprise. “She’s a freak? How the hell you keep finding these fine ass bitches who want that kind of sick shit done to them?” Jorje asked, leaning down and sucking, then biting the nipple of the hot blond. As she moaned and arched her breasts harder into her mouth, Jorje felt his cock harden. Oh yeah, she was a freak all right. Sweet Willie was right. They used missiles to take down Tiger, and that got that superslut Paladin after her. Paladin had taken a burst from a 30mm autocannon, the one the A-10 used to kill frigging tanks and not even slowed down. They used an anti tank missile against her and she swatted it back at them like a badminton birdie. The family couldn’t afford Old Man Mendoza to be swinging his dick with missiles at the Feds right now, or he risked bringing that super slut down on all their heads.

“It’s a gift Jorje, it’s a gift.” Sweet Willie said as he ran a hand down Paladin’s belly and slid it into her pussy. As she humped desperately against his hand, he took out a glistening finger, and sucked it clean.

With a laugh, the two guards each gave her ass a good grope and slap as Jorje took her leash and dragged the helpless piece of fuckmeat, the very superheroine they were most afraid of, past their security and into the meeting of the Mendoza crime syndicates top leadership, discussing how they were going to deal with law enforcement, and the case against them.

Paladin was conflicted. She was blindfolded and handcuffed, stripped naked, with a collar on her neck, being led on a leash to serve a room full of murderous criminal thugs, with a plug up her ass, and a ball gag in her mouth. When she had started as a superheroine, being chosen by the Holy Sword Durendal to become God's Paladin in this fallen world, she had been an archeology student, working on a Masters degree in a discipline that considered anything as recent as the founding of America as not even worth study. That being said, she didn't live in a hole, she knew about Superheroines, and what happened when they got captured. Yet she hadn't been captured. She hadn't lost. She hadn't failed.

Paladin was winning right now. In her ears was playing a constant stream of pornographic hypnotic conditioning, telling her that she was just a set of holes, how her only purpose was to be a plaything for men, how her only joy was feeling the hands of men, the cocks of men, to bear the marks of their discipline and use as her only badges of honour, their cum dripping from her holes and her face as the only reward she needed. Coupled with the vibrating butt plug stretching out her poor violated and now terribly lubricated asshole, it was designed to leave her unable to do anything but be what they called her, helpless fuckmeat. Indeed Paladin's mantle gave her super hearing and super senses, but that only gave the intense sexual stimulation and humiliation more power over her. No, the part of her that allowed her to function was an older part.

As an archeologist, it took painstaking effort, patience, and attention to insignificant levels of difference to spot the difference between the clay of a tablet and the slightly different later clay of the silt that entombed it. That patience she had, to spend a hundred hours with finer and finer paint brushes and gentle puffs of her own breath to tease the later river deposited clay out of a three thousand year old tablet to reveal the writing that had once been there. No normal human being had the patience, in this age of instant gratification and information at your fingertips, no one would devote hundreds of hours of painstaking labour to uncover a clay tablet that would most likely turn out to be commercial instructions and not some great cultural revelation that would change their understanding of an ancient culture. After all there were a dozen perfectly normal bits of daily life uncovered after similar efforts for every one that held some new insight into a forgotten path. She was such a person, and it was the tools of Jenny Trinity MSc Archeology University of Lethbridge, that she used this day.

She could not tune out the droning hypnotic commands, no more than she could drown out the feelings of her body. She had to lean into the feelings of her body, to be in all respects just a desperate piece of fuckmeat for these human monsters to play with. As long as she did, her camera would be in place to record every sound and sight of the room. She could however sink deeper into the sounds she heard, and catch the sounds beyond her own whimpers, the sounds of her slut conditioning, and make out the sounds of the Mendoza family in conference right now. It was the skills that allowed her to sort the clay of those old tablets from the river clay they were buried in grain by grain, this time sorting the sounds of the room and the sounds of her conditioning hypnotics sound by sound.

That was when the mantle of Paladin took over. Two gifts of the Angels bestowed with her holy sword were the Gift of Babel, that all languages should be as one to her, this latter had the neat side effect of code breaking, as all forms of communication were laid bare before the eyes of the all seeing. The second gift was the Ear of Truth. She could tell not only what was truth and what was lie, but gain from the detection of a lie the angle from which the truth and the spoken diverged. Not quite the same thing as telepathically lifting the truth from someone, but if they lied about the same thing a few times, from the angle between the spoken and the truth from those varied points, the thing unspoken would be revealed as simply as if it was spoken openly. Such a holy guardian of justice was brought by Sweet Willie the pimp on a leash into a meeting of the planners of death, the drug lords, the bringers of corruption and murder in her fair city. If it wasn't for the pain in her nipples making her whimper and cry helplessly, she would be unable to hide her grin.

Old Man Mendoza was raging.

"What the fuck is going on. We killed that dirty snitch Tiger, we burned his bullet proof ass alive, I had one of my people on the forensic teams steal one of his mother fucking bones from the wreck to check its DNA and we got the fucker. Why is the DA still going ahead. Why is the FBI still bringing more people in, not investigators, lawyers, like they are ready for the endgame. We fucking killed the snitch, why are they still acting like they got shit on us?" Old Man Mendoza raged, and Paladin could feel the sincerity in him. He was a monster, a killer, he ordered the murder of the prisoner Tiger, and the agents in the prisoner transport, and he was proud of it. That was strange, it was Junior Mendoza who was the snitch. Tiger had refused to talk at all. Something was wrong!

Faces in the room glanced at Sweet Willie as Old Man Mendoza had reached into his jacket and was starting to stroke his Beretta. They needed their leader thinking right now, not painting the walls with their blood working out his rage over their last, and very dangerously public, strike against law enforcement. Sweet Willie pushed her forward, tossing the leash end to Old Man Mendoza.

"Here you go Patron. This is Special Agent Fuckmeat, as I like to call her, she isn't really a special agent, she just works for their IT department in the local office. I got her here for you to take some of your mad out on. Don't worry, I have been training her for a while, she isn't ready to rent out yet, she is a full on pain slut, but she is the next best thing to a virgin, I swear she has been with as many guys as I have thumbs and I was the second one, but she has the makings of a first class whore. Don't worry if you damage her a little bit, she can dress in a fucking turtleneck to hide the bites and whip marks and no one will bat an eyelash." Sweet Willie said, and the room was shocked.

He brought a fucking Fed into the room right now? Is he crazy? Old Man Mendoza will kill her! Then Willie!

Sweet Willie knew men, and he knew Old Man Mendoza didn't consider women to be people. If she was free and dressed, he would see her as an agent of the FBI, granted not a field agent, but still an agent, and put a bullet in her. Now, stripped naked, blind,deaf, chained, and so very very vulnerable, she was the innocent woman of the hated enemy. He needed to use her to humiliate them. He needed to possess, to mark and to degrade her to show his contempt for them. He wouldn't kill her for the simple reason that sending her back covered in his marks and dripping his cum would prove his power over them. It was a danger when your ego was bigger than your cock, but it was the universal truth that all men suffered from this condition. Cock size just drew a matching ego growth.

Old Man Mendoza yanked her forward, and she stumbled off balance. he flicked out a switchblade faster than anyone at the table expected him to move and drove it at her blindfold. Paladin, truly blindfolded and unknowing of the blade only heard the terrified gasps as she stumbled forward at the blade aimed for her eye and brain. With a cruel smile, Mendoza moved his hand aside, dropping the knife to grab her blond hair as she passed and halt her progress by it. She arched, pulled up short from behind by her hair even as the collar and leash pulled her forward. Mendoza leaned down and sucked her nipple in his mouth, making it grow hard and wet, then bit down HARD, drawing a little bit of blood, and the captive special agent fuckmeat whimpered helplessly around her ball gag.

Old Man Mendoza reached down and felt her pussy, all natural, unshaved, not even trimmed. Natural blonde and not a professional, not even a party girl. She really was some poor innocent Sweet Willie had seduced from the FBI to get more information about what was going on. Mendoza smiled.

"She has access to the FBI computers?" Mendoza asked softly while he stroked her labia thoughtfully, feeling her unconciously try to push harder into his fingers. He gave the slut a single finger in between her folds. Hot, wet, and tight like the Virgin Mary. Sweet Willie hadn't even fucked her! He really had delivered a sweet innocent little FBI asset into Mendoza's hands untried and only partly trained. He wouldn't break her, but knowing that one of those FBI cunts out to get him now belonged to him made his blood start to move from his angry face and fists to someplace farther south.

He reached down and sucked the nipple again, flicking it softly, tasting the flesh, sweat and hint of blood from his bite and this time giving the firm white breast the attention it deserved, plunging his fingers into her hot wet hole and feeling them clamp hungrily around his finger.

"She is going to fill us in on whatever the Feds know once they set up their precious headquarters in the local office right? They are aware we have people in the local cops and won't trust anything in their computers." Old Man Mendoza said pushing Paladin over the desk, and slapping her ass hard enough to leave a handprint. The slap, coupled with the vibrations in her anal plug, added to the humiliation and helplessness made her moan in sexual heat. Paladin caught the truth in what Mendoza just said, they had people in the local Police department, in their computer section. How did he not know it was Junior who was snitching for the police? Why risk everything to kill Tiger, who stayed loyal to the criminal even when facing felony murder charges for being involved in the drug deal where the agents were killed?

Old Man Mendoza continued to finger her as he spanked her, pausing sometimes to lean down and leave bite marks in her taunt pale white buttocks, enjoying her screams. He either didn't notice how fast they healed or was too distracted to care the condition of his canvass, as long as he could paint it with new marks of pain and dominance.

"So Sweet Willie is on the fucking job. The fucking PIMP is doing the job of protecting the fucking family. Where is my enforcement, hey? Where is my intelligence group, what the fuck have you pendejos been doing while the fucking pimp is out there making you look like you should be selling dime bags in fucking elementary school." Mendoza roared, putting a second finger into her, and flicking her clit, enjoying the helpless sensation of her moving against him.

Paladin listened as the various gathered Mendoza enforcers outlined what they had been done. They listed every single police contact they had corrupted, and what they had said and done. They revealed every one of the tentacles of corruption they had sunk into both the local police department, and the local district attorney's office, Paladin's ear for truth revealed one thing beyond the extent of the Mendoza's penetration of local law enforcement. Jorje was lying. He spoke the truth about who he had control of in the local police department, but two of those detectives were part of the task force that interrogated Junior, and the Assistant District Attorney had been the one to broker the deal with Federal Prosecutors to trade witness protection and bionic limb replacements to Junior Mendoza to roll on his entire crime family. Yet Jorje was reporting that Tiger had been the snitch, and was saying that the cops had someone informing who was still active in the family instead. He was trying to start a witch hunt, when the witch was already in police custody, and he was the Patron's own weak and foolish son, Junior.

Old Man Mendoza worked himself back into a rage.

"They think they can fuck with me? They think they can take my son and fuck with me? I own their asses. I own them, and I own you. Some of you here think it is safe to fuck with me, maybe you think I am old, and maybe have lost a step. Maybe because I let Junior show his leadership in the field, I haven't got the balls to do what need to be done. Let me show you what kind of balls I have. I am going to find that fucking traitor, and I am going to rip out their eye, and skull fuck them to death just like this!" Paladin was lost in a sea of submissive lust, and the truth in the statement just made her need to submit all the more. Part of her was screaming that he was going to kill her as an example, but most of her was gathered in her pussy where Old Man Mendoza had worked wonders, the pain of his punishment and the pleasure of his dominance had worked hard on the repressed sexuality of the woman trapped beneath the holy mantle, the enhanced sensory and enhanced healing had made of her body a temple of erotic suffering, the perfect canvass for a sadist to paint, and of her the perfect object of art for such a deviant.

Old Man Mendoza's cock was eight inches of Mayan man meat, a war club that was ready to show the upstart spawn of the Conquistadors church who ruled this city. He drove into her brutally, yanking back on the collar so the force of her flinch choked her. Eyes wide and helpless she stared at the black inside of her blindfold with shock and horror as Mendoza grudge fucked her. He wasn't trying to please her, he wasn't trying to dominate her. She wasn't important enough to matter. She was just a helpless piece of fuckmeat for him to use to establish dominance in the room. He fucked her with hard brutal strokes, his balls slapping against her clit as he forced her head up by yanking on her leash. The enhanced strength of her throat was the only reason she wasn't choked unconcious, but her concentration was weakening, as was her strength. He may have been proving to a room full of doubting underlings that he still was the dominant bull in this herd, but he was proving it by making Paladin's own body betray her. She came explosively, her body thrashing like a caught fish thrown on land. He fucked her throught it, releasing the leash and pushing her face down on the conference table. He plied his belt over her ass and back as he fucked her. Lashing her like a slave, he fucked her to a second orgasm and bellowed like a bull when he filled her cunt with blast after hot searing blast of his cum. She was shaking so hard, her legs twitching like she was electrocuted as he pulled out.

Yanking her by the hair off the table, he let her collapse to her knees, then slapped her in the face, and presented his cock to her mouth, yanking the ball gag out, and leaving it to hang around her neck.

"Clean me. The FBI exists to get fucked by me and like it. The police exist to get fucked by me, and like it. This city exists to get fucked by me and like it. And you, you fucking ballless useless motherfuckers, exist to get fucked by me and like it. Now, get out there and prove to me that you are men of the Mendoza family and that I shouldn't cut off your balls and send you to work for Sweet Willie as nutless cocksucking bitches. I want to know what they know, I want to know where they keep my son, and I want to know how the fuck you are going to pressure them, bribe them, or fucking murder them to get him back." Old Man Mendoza spoke softly, his voice trembling with restrained power and no one met his gaze.

Paladin sucked his softening cock, tracing around it with her tongue. Without being asked she move her tongue and lips to his balls, washing the taste of her shameful cum off his salt and pepper haired nutsack.

He was not going to give up, he was going to come at the police and the FBI. She knew who the Mendoza controlled now, and even more important, she knew Jorje was working against the family, even if she didn't know why. Paladin had what she needed to bring down the Mendoza, but now she knew there was something else going on behind the scenes, something that engineered this bloodbath, and was aiming for a greater one.

"Now, get the fuck of here and do some work. You are all fucking useless. Go pretend to be men elsewhere." Old Man Mendoza said, dismissing his humiliated lieutenants. He continued. "Not you Willie, you can stay. You are the only one who did his fucking job."

Old Man Mendoza handed Sweet Willie Paladin's leash.

"You took a big chance bringing a Fed bitch in here, even blind and deaf. You know I was a little worked up,and there was a decent chance I would have her sucking on my Beretta not my cock right?" Mendoza asked.

Sweet Willie smiled. "She isn't fully trained yet. I wouldn't risk one of my trained bitches. My bitches get protection, that is the deal. Not one of them gets fucked up, not one of them so much as gets arrested. They give me everything they have, and that is a lot more than their pretty little asses, and I make them feel like real women should. I figured, as worked up as you were, you could show her what it is like to be treated like a real woman should. She isn't experienced, a sweet innocent little thing who has no idea that god made her to be fucked, to be owned, not to work, but if she was going to work, she would work for her man not the fucking Feds."

Paladin moaned and pressed against his body. She shuddered as what Sweet Willie said was partially a lie. He had no intention of letting her get hurt. He knew Mendoza would not kill her. He was telling the truth about her being made to fuck, to be owned. She needed to get out of here, she had what she needed, but now all she wanted was to fall down on her knees before Sweet Willie and do what she did for Mendoza to him. To her man. Of sweet merciful Jesus, he was making her think like one of his whores. The sexual hypnotic trainer was still playing in her ears, and she needed to listen to it to tune out the words and hear behind it to the conversation. She couldn't ignore it. Coupled with the feelings in her body, the pleasure, pain, helplessness and humiliation, it was filling her with a need that was so strong that if she didn't get relief, she would snap her handcuffs and throw Sweet Willie to the floor and mount him herself.

"You take care of this bitch. You feed her some cock, and let her feed us the FBI investigation. Bring her with you when you brief me. I think I am going to help you train that little anglo fed bitch. You see so many sluts, so many strippers and whores, your girls are good women, decent women, proud women. That makes them the best to break and to defile. When a woman with a communion wafer on her tongue drops to her knees to clean your cock, that is when you know yourself sitting at the right hand of god. Anyone can fuck a slut, your bitches belong only to the strong." Old Man Mendoza said, gripping Sweet Willie's shoulder in a comradely grasp. He had no idea Sweet Willie and his little fuckmeat were going to bring down his whole family.

As Sweet Willie lead her out, they ran into Jorje who smiled at them as they passed the security check point. Leaving the security checkpoint Paladin felt her anal plug vibrtate in a new tone as it uploaded the whole video and audio file to her own computers to be forwarded to Detective Blake. The information was out, she could transform at any time and the evidence would still be safe. Of course, then her identity would be compromised, and so would her reputation. Paladin felt a deep shame over her conduct and reactions, she was so distracted she almost missed it.

"Yeah, I would love to stay and chat, but this bitch has to be at work bright and early tomorrow." Sweet Willie said, keeping his end of the deal and trying to get her out now that she had her evidence on the ball gag recorders.

"Sure you aren't going to have a little piece yourself before you leave, she looks like she needs it. Hey, I never got a chance to tell you before. Sorry about Tiger getting whacked. It wasn't all his fault. I mean, nobody knew those dealers were really Feds, so that part was just bad luck. I feel bad about it. I knew you guys were close, the few times I saw you together." Jorje said.

Paladin snapped aware. What? Jorje was not sorry about Tiger getting killed, and more, JORJE KNEW THE DRUG BUST WAS A SET UP! Everything she knew was wrong. Those agents didn't catch a tip, they were set up to take down Junior by Jorje. Jorje was covering up Junior's snitching even now. He was actively sabotaging the Mendoza family, but he was also doing his best to escalate the violence with the police. He was setting both sides up for a blood bath and nobody knew it. This was the man who engineered Tiger's death, and she owed Sweet Willie that information.

She pressed against his neck. "Please Sweet Willie, please, I need you. I need you now." She sucked at his neck, even bit it lightly, hoping he would sense the urgency and the connection to Jorje.

"Well, I did promise I would break her ass in properly if she was a good girl. If you wanted a piece of her mouth, I don't think you would be disappointed." Sweet Willie laughed as he lead the two of them to the room she had changed in.

Paladin felt Jorje groping her tits and french kissing her roughly while Sweet Willie worked the plug out of her ass. She felt his fingers working her sore asshole as he renewed the lube on her ass, and began to lube his own hardening cock, getting worked up as he saw what he thought was an FBI special agent whoring herself out for him. Breaking powerful bitches was his primary joy in life, prior to his new mission of vengeance, and this one set off all his buttons like none before. She wasn't nearly sophisticated enough to be a proper Fed, she was like an innocent lamb set among wolves, and this wolf had made her a pet not a meal. He paused as he he forced his broad head into her tightest hole, the gaping of the plug not quite enough to make way for Sweet Willies bitch tamer, but he had all the patience that Old Man Mendoa lacked.

Jorje had none of that patience, he had reacted to her desperate moaning into his mouth by grabbing her hair and slapping her face, reminding her to pay attention to him and his cock, not the pimp about to rearrange her guts. He pulled her down to his cock and shoved it in brutally.

"See how you take one that is still young and strong, not spent and old you useless Fed fuckmeat" Jorje boasted, revealing too much in his security that she had the earphones on and the blindfold and could only feel not see or hear. He didn't know she could hear, and that everything was being recorded. He didn't worry about Sweet Willie, because the pimp wasn't even a street pimp. He relied on Tiger for enforcement before, and Tiger was gone.

Paladin tried to concentrate. She had figured out that Sweet Willie somehow picked up on her thoughts when she was fucking him. She didn't know how, but she tried to focus as he pushed his cock into her ass. It was so hard to concentrate, he was making her feel so good. Luckily, Jorje for all his bluster didn't have half the cock that either Old Man Mendoza or Sweet Willie had, and sucking him just helped her put out the fire her body had lit of unfilled need.

Sweet Willie began to ease into her ass, then pulling out, then slowly a little farther in, letting her body adjust, knowing she did like a little pain, but tomorrow she would either feel a gentle ache that made her miss a step and blush remembering the pleasure, or actual pain which would taint all of the memories and weaken his hold. He let his stupid touch telepathy that only worked inside someone stretch into her body and mind, reading every feeling she had and her surface thoughts, where the fantasies and urges of her current treatment should be spawning dirty thoughts of every forbidden thing she never dared ask for but secretly hoped he would make her do. That was how he collected his bitches.

Instead, he got fully formed thoughts. Jorje was lying about not knowing Junior was the snitch. Jorje had set up Tiger to be in Old Man Mendoza's sights, and encouraged a show of force, knowing what the old monster would do. Worse, he knew that Junior's drug deal was a set up from the start. Jorje was behind Tiger's death, and his bitch knew about it!

Reaching down he began to play with her clit as he stroked into her, feeling her need to submit, to be punished as he drove his hard cock into her, while simultaneously using his fingers to pleasure her, reading her reactions to know what worked best, and how to keep her just at the edge for as long as HE chose. As her control slipped near the edge, her mental defenses lapsed and Sweet Willie almost blew his load. She wasn't a fucking fed, she was Paladin, the fucking superheroine. He was up the ass of Paladin, and making her suck Jorje's cock. He was turning the Maiden of Purity into his bitch, his whroe.

Sweet Willie bit his own arm hard enough to draw blood, the pain only just enough to stop him from blowing his load up her ass. Jorje had set up Tiger's death. Don't lose focus on the gift she had given him. He wanted revenge and the Mendoza family may not be the only target.

Pulling out of her ass, slapping it roughly, he slid his steel hard cock into the softer opening of her sweet cream pied pussy and began to stroke in, matching his thrusts with Jorje's increasingly rapid ones into the talented mouth of the Holy Heroine.

"Yeah, I wonder where the Fed's even found out about Junior trying to cut out our distribution networks and middle men. It isn't like he discussed the idea with anyone outside the family. How did the Fed's get his information? I mean, none of our street people have it. I mean we don't just have to guard against the Feds, the fucking Triad would love to get an in with their Asian smack, and the Russians have been trying and failing to get access to our street networks forever." Sweet Willie said, spanking Paladin's ass and violating it with two fingers as he pounded her sweet pussy.

He almost sabotaged his own efforts as while she was unable to hide her thoughts from him, she was having trouble forming them too. She was so close to another and by far the strongest orgasm.

"I have no idea how the Feds found out. The Triad's are under too much scrutiny to try shit. Their fentanyl crap kills too many college kids, important kids, for the feds not to be already after them. The Russians, they wouldn't dare try to move in. They know the Mendoza got it all sewn up. Without our help, they couldn[t move Girl Scout Cookies on the streets." Jorje smirked, "Hijo de PUTA!" He roared as he came down Paladin's throat, pulling out to paint her face with his hot cum.

Luckily her blindfold kept it out of her eyes, but her blonde hair, nose, cheeks and mouth got blasted.

Jorje was looking at the little blonde fuckmeat he was painting with his cum and missed seeing Sweet Willie's face.

Sweet Willie read Paladin's thoughts through his cock. Jorje had set up Junior and Tiger. Jorje had cut a deal with the Russians to take over Mendoza territory. Sweet Willie knew who ran what. With Tiger gone, Willie had no street muscle, no protection, and Sweet Willie controlled the money laundering through his girls, and the intelligence gathering, also through his girls. Jorje controlled the street distribution networks. He was engineering a situation in which all the enforcers would be caught up directly in a war with the Feds, with Jorje's help, and Russian interference, the Russiand could sweep in and slaughter the Mendoza family assets in the confusion and both Feds and Mendoza survivors would be pointing at the other while the Russians and Jorje swept up the distribution network. To make the takeover worth it, they would have to get Sweet Willie's bitches and the network he controlled.

No one had asked him, no one had approached him. Jorje was an animal, and the Russians were worse. They weren't going to ask. Sweet Willie wasn't going to be involved beyond giving up the names and roles of all his bitches before he was allowed to die, and rather than making them so happy they offered to do whatever he asked, his bitches would be brutalized, threatened, or murdered when they failed to comply. His bitches were not street walkers, they wouldn't cave to threats. Things would get bloody and Sweet Willie had no one to protect them.

Paladin came violently around his cock, Sweet Willie felt himself lose control like no pimp should as her more than human pussy milked his cock like a velvet mouth with a thousand tongues and he emptied his balls into her sweet sex. Well now. He had lost Tiger, but he had a goddamned Superheroine who was already more than half way tamed. Maybe if he wanted his revenge, he would have to stop thinking about being Sweet Willie the pimp, and more about being Paladin's Pimp. Maybe Sweet Willie needed to be the one corrupted.

Fuck the cops, every dirty bastard who took part in setting up Tiger's kill needed to get burned. Fuck the Mendoza family, they murdered their most loyal soldier because they couldn't believe Junior was a useless fucking loser. Fuck the Russians because they set it all up. No. Sweet Willie was going to switch teams and bring down the whole corrupt thing. He was going to be what he was. Sweet Willie the pimp. Paladin was his bitch now, and Sweet Willie protected and provided for his bitches.

She was whimpering as he pulled out. He lifted her to her feet, then lowered her to her knees. She took him in her mouth and began to clean him worshipfully. He caught Jorje's jealous stare. That asshole thinks he can take what is mine. You know what, lets dance. Without Tiger I have no fucking investment in the whole stinking drug trade and its violence. They were a necessary evil as long as Tiger was in that world. Now they are just an evil. Fuck them all. I am going to fuck them all, and because I am Sweet Willie the pimp, I am going to use my bitches to do it.

Sweet Willie has a great plan. I think this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, or at least a very fulfilling one.

wow, i love this story! can't wait for the next chapter