Superhero fiction by Shaw
 

I'm hoping to develop this thread to address the many Superhero stories by SHAW (classic author of the ENF, Hot Buns, and Wet and Messy Genre). I'll be adding illustrations and there will be minor edits to the stories to match the work I'm doing with them, although for many things I've gone to great lengths to remain faithful to the text. If I reach the end of the (around 14) stories Shaw wrote about the misfortunes of superheroines Glamor Girl and Power Princess, then I'll start posting the 4 long stories I've written as a sequel, where an even at a museum might give them a chance to get revenge on their nemesis, Pussy Whip...but there will be plenty of casualties of the humiliating-but-not-requiring-medical-attention variety. What happens in the sequel? I don't know yet, plenty is written, but the plot continues.

First of all, my Glamor Girl character looks a bit different. The main point is that she's supposed to be extremely buxom on both top and bottom, and my character looks a little like a gorgeously buxom and wildly popular model I admire. Many of you will get who I mean when the first images appear. The model and the character have personalities in no way similar, and any resemblance is merely meant to embody the highest ideals of beauty I can imagine. Other changes make it more possible to turn out good images (if there was a setting I couldn't pull off exactly right, for example), and only a few are my personal quarks (a couple of m/f scenes with minor characters are 'improved' IMHO by making them f/f).

I've been very busy lately, but the first installment is nearly ready to go. I doubt these images will also be able to be seen on my deviantart (at least the best ones) because, although nothing in them violates the ToS here (no watersports, forcible sex, etc) several do violate DA's ToS (genitals not just exposed, but looking 'open' due to the pose, toys in use, etc.)

Why this early disclaimer? 1) I'm excited to get this project up and running 2) I want to warn purists of the changes I had to make if I was going to make illustrations for these, my favorite stories in the genre.

Thanks, Shaw's great! Looking forward to your sequels.

Thanks! Going to start posting ASAP.

PART 1:
Cat Up A Tree, Or Pussy In Peril by Shaw (2000)

One of the Superheroines that PussyWhip and the Bionic Bimbo detested most was 'Glamour Girl'.
'Glamour Girl' was a vain, arrogant model, who also liked to pose as a Superheroine. She owned her own fashion label, so was able to model a whole range of clothes, as she made her public appearances in a variety of outfits, generating huge amounts of free publicity and sales. She also had her own line of 'Glamour Girl' lingerie which particularly annoyed PussyWhip, who owned her own underwear factory. Though athletic and strong enough to be a Superheroine, beneath the public spirited façade was a calculating, publicity-hungry b*tch. She employed a PR agent, Paula, to ensure that all her exploits received maximum publicity. The dark-haired Paula was beautiful in her own right, but 'Glamour Girl' always insisted that she dress down. 'Glamour Girl' was not about to have the limelight taken from her by her own PR agent.

'Glamour Girl' was at the City Hall, handing out 'Glamour Girl Certificates' to young schoolchildren whose deeds had most exemplified the fine, crime-fighting work that 'Glamour Girl' liked to pretend to epitomise. As this was a civic duty, 'Glamour Girl' was not dressed in her crime-fighters outfit, but a tight, blue business suit that she knew would subsequently rocket in sales because she had modelled it. If 'Glamour Girl' was a b*tch, she was a very beautiful one. Long, chestnut hair cascaded to her shoulders. Her beautiful face was always impeccably made-up, though the slightly up-turned nose did hint at her haughty nature. Her full, large breasts stuck out proudly before her, straining against her white blouse. Her legs were shapely, strong, and very long - 'Glamour Girl' was nearly six-foot in height. She was particularly proud of her perfect, curvy rear-end, and had designed this particular suit because it clung so tightly to her firm, round ass-cheeks. She smiled superciliously to the cameras as she bent down to award the certificates, happy that her gorgeous posterior was the real centre of attention. She patted the children's heads, then turned to Paula, speaking through clenched teeth.

'How many more of these little monsters have I to award certificates to?'

'Nearly finished', said Paula wearily. If the pay was not so good, she would have told 'Glamour Girl' long ago where to stick her job. As it was, she had to suffer many insults, and, of course, had to wear very uninspiring clothes, so as not to compete with madam.

'Are they getting plenty of pictures of the dress?'

'Yes. It's a sensation'.

'I've a new 'Glamour Girl' crime-fighter outfit I want to debut. No jobs for 'Glamour Girl' come up yet today? No wrongs to right?'

'Not a thing yet', replied Paula. PussyWhip had actually instructed all the city's villains to take the day off so that she could control 'Glamour Girl' crime-fighting for the afternoon.

Just then, one of the PussyPets, dressed as a policewoman, whispered something into Paula's ear. Paul turned to the preening, posing 'Glamour Girl'.

'There is a job for you on 48th Street. I'm afraid it's not very exciting'

'Don't worry. I'll make it exciting. Just be sure all the gentlemen of the press are fully briefed. I want maximum exposure of my new crime-fighting outfit'

The media entourage made their way to the address given. 'Glamour Girl' generated a lot of newspaper sales, but they were no more enamoured of her than Paula was. But they had to go along with it, though they knew it was usually no more than a glorified fashion-shoot.

They were all gathered underneath a tree. When 'Glamour Girl' judged the moment to be right, she came running over to the tree, then stood with her arms akimbo, while the press photographed the new outfit. It was stunning. The top was a light blue tube top with the 'Glamour Girl' logo across the chest in yellow. It was so tight that you could clearly see her prominent nipples and the swelling outline of her breasts. Her midriff was bare. She wore her traditional blue tights, and skimpy read briefs over the top of them. As she slowly turned to give a rear-view, every man in eyesight gasped at how sensually the skimpy read briefs and tights clung to, and accentuated, her butt-cheeks.

'Glamour Girl' turned back round, happy that the new design had obviously had the desired effect.

'Now - what seems to the problem?', she asked, hands still on her hips, tits jutting out proudly.

'This little girl's cat has got stuck in the tree'.

It was PussyWhip who had spoken, dressed in her black leather cat-suit, which also clung tightly to her body, showing off every curve. The cameras flashed again, as PussyWhip smiled sweetly at 'Glamour Girl', tussling the little girl's hair. (The girl in fact had been trying to tie a can to the cat's tail, but for a large ice-cream she was prepared to pretend that the cat was her dear pet).

'Glamour Girl' scowled. This b*tch was upstaging her in that cat-suit.

'Well, well, we meet again PussyWhip.' said 'Glamour Girl' archly. 'Remember our last meeting. I had to hog-tie you and your intellectually challenged partner in crime outside a Jeweller's Shop. Pity it was raining so hard at the time - I felt quite sorry for the both of you, having to lie in that muddy puddle! I see you've had the cat-suit cleaned since then'

'Glamour Girl' beamed gleefully as she reminded PussyWhip, and the press, about that humiliating event, though it just served to increase PussyWhip's anticipation of what was about to transpire.

'And where is the Bionic Bimbo?' continued 'Glamour Girl'. 'Letting her costume out a bit so that it fits her, no doubt'.

In fact the invisible Bionic Bimbo was standing beside PussyWhip, enraged at this slur on her figure, which was, in fairness, on the voluptuous side.

'Never mind that, 'Glamour Girl', what are you going to do about this little girl's cat? Some workmen were digging a trench, and the noise of the drill scared the cat up the tree'

The half-dug trench ran to the back of the tree, and the workmen's little yellow and white tent lay empty.

'Glamour Girl' turned to Paula.

'Is this really the best you could do', she hissed. 'A cat, stuck in a tree! It's not really a job worthy of 'Glamour Girl', is it, you stupid cow'.

Paula contained her anger at this outburst.

'You wanted to debut the costume. The press is here. It's going to look bad if you don't rescue that little girl's cat'.

'Glamour Girl' turned resignedly to the gathering once more, and decided to make the best of it.

'Of course I'll save your cat for you, little girl', she said, sounding courageous.

As she spoke, the Bionic Bimbo crept behind her, and carefully ran a razor blade down the back of the tights and red briefs, as the unsuspecting 'Glamour Girl' glowed in the cheers of the crowd.

PART 2

'Glamour Girl' turned to the tree. The cat was not very high up, and the branches were thick and plentiful. This would be easy. With an athletic bound, 'Glamour Girl' leapt, grabbed a branch, and began to haul herself on to it. Kneeling on the branch, with her back to the crowd, she leant forward and grabbed the cat. As she did so, the audience gasped to see that the tights and briefs had apparently split up the back, and 'Glamour Girl' was unwittingly giving everyone a clear, back view of her own juicy pink slit. Still leaning forward, clutching the cat, she turned her head round and smiled for the photographers.

'Are you getting this boys?', she shouted, as the photographers began to gleefully snap away. PussyWhip, and the invisible Bionic Bimbo, were in stitches, as Paula tried to attract her employer's attention.

'Not now, you idiot', barked the unsuspecting 'Glamour Girl', adjusting herself slightly, vainly making sure her ass was displayed prominently for the press, unaware that she was giving an even better view of her naked rear-end and succulent pussy-lips.

'Make sure you get a good close-up of the pussy', she shouted, oblivious to the sniggers that emanated from the audience. 'Would you like me to give it a stroke?'

She stroked her hand through the fur, then turned to face the clicking cameras again.

'Yugh! It's a bit smelly actually', she said, continuing to wiggle her exposed bottom and pussy. The cat was rather mangy, and under-nourished looking. 'What it needs is a good wash and something hot inside it' she announced.

This was too much. The roars of laughter rang round her, and 'Glamour Girl' began to suspect that something was amiss. She looked down to see Paula frantically pointing to her own bottom. 'Glamour Girl' tentatively put one hand behind her, and was mortified to feel her bare ass where she supposed her briefs to be.

PART 3

'Oh God!', she shrieked, letting go the cat, sitting up, and putting both hands to her posterior, as the gazing public continued to laugh and cheer. The sudden movement caused her to lose her balance, and she toppled off the tree.

'Nooooo!' she yelled, as she landed painfully on her exposed rump, tearing her tights and briefs further, her wide-open legs giving another glimpse of the her pussy. Jumping to her feet, covering her ass with one hand, and her pussy with the other, her face as red as her now crotchless briefs, she looked round frantically for somewhere to hide.

'Quickly, the workmen's tent', said Paula, inwardly laughing hysterically at the sight of the stuck-up 'Glamour Girl' being so terribly embarrassed. Still clutching her nether regions, she sprinted, gazelle-like, to the tent, the laughter from the on-lookers still ringing her burning ears.

Inside the tent, she surveyed the damage to her costume while berating the long-suffering Paula. As well as the tears to her tights and briefs, she had torn the boob-tube slightly at the back.

'Why didn't you do something, you idiot!', she snapped. 'Oh my god! I can't believe it! Perched on a tree… wiggling my fanny about to the whole world… telling them to get a picture of my pussy … Oh God!'

'Glamour Girl' was mortified as she remembered all she had said.

'Make sure you get these pictures from these guys. I'm not having my pussy plastered all over the tabloids'.

'At least the tube top didn't rip off, though it did tear a little at the back', said Paula (frankly a bit disappointed).

'Oh well, then that's okay', snarled 'Glamour Girl'. 'The world and his wife gets to oggle my pussy, but not my tits. Well they're not going to either. Have you got a safety-pin?'

Paula searched the contents of her copious bag, where she kept an assortment of special 'Glamour Girl' devices, and other items for emergencies. She finally found a large safety-pin, which she attached to the back of the tube top. Just in case.

Just then PussyWhip approached the tent, followed by the still sniggering crowd.

'Hey, 'Glamour Girl', she shouted. 'There still a pussy stuck-up that tree, though it's not attracting as much attention as yours was'.

'Glamour Girl' stuck her head out of the tent.

'Very funny. Well I can't save that darn, eh, dear little cat because my tights and briefs are in shreds'.

'Well, it's not our fault your ass is so fat that you split your drawers', laughed PussyWhip.

'Glamour Girl' seethed at this slight on her posterior. The sight of PussyWhip glorying in her predicament really was too much.

'Well, as you know, 'Glamour Girl'', continued PussyWhip, 'I own the 'PussyWhip Lingerie Company', and I happen to have a sample of our underwear here if it will help you'.

'That's very generous of you', said 'Glamour Girl' through gritted teeth. All she really wanted to do was get out of here, but that would have looked really bad.

One of the PussyPets fetched over a small briefcase, and PussyWhip opened it.

'It's a new line of lingerie we're doing. I'm afraid it's all I have with me. It's really designed for little brats who've got too big for their panties'.

PussyWhip held the item up. It was a pair of pink rhumba panties, with rows and rows of frilly ruffles across the front and the seat. The audience could not suppress further laughter at the sight of the glamorous, snooty 'Glamour Girl' being offered such humiliatingly juvenile underwear. 'Glamour Girl' was outraged.

'Glamour Girl does not wear rhumba panties, thank-you very much', she snapped.

'Suit yourself, but the whole world is waiting to see you rescue the cat, and you can't do that bare-assed'.

'Glamour Girl' turned to Paula.

'She's deliberately trying to humiliate me', she seethed.

'And succeeding admirably' thought Paula delightedly. 'She does have a point', she said. 'The cat is still stuck, and you have no real choice'.

'But I'll look ridiculous! I'll be a laughing-stock'.

'After that exhibition on the tree, you're already that', said Paula. 'If you can save the cat, you might rescue something from this'.

Paula genuinely felt that 'Glamour Girl' had to go through with it, though part of her was also delighted at the prospect of seeing her snooty, bad-tempered employer subjected to more indignity. After all the times she'd been forced to dress down, the prospect of seeing this b*tch, who so prided herself on being at the height of fashion, having to don babyish pink rhumba panties in public, was an enjoyable one.

'Glamour Girl' grabbed the proffered panties with ill-grace from PussyWhip, then, cursing and swearing in a most un-Superheroine fashion, removed her tattered tights and briefs and put on the degrading panties.

'I'll get her for this, don't you worry', she fumed, as she looked down miserably at the full-cut panties she was wearing, and felt the rows of ruffles on her seat.

A minute or so later, a very sheepish, chastened 'Glamour Girl' emerged from the tent, bright red with embarrassment, as she stood before the delighted crowd. Minutes before she had stood preening arrogantly, every inch the dynamic, sexy Superheroine. Now, having flashed her sn*tch to all and sundry, she stood before them in frilly pink rhumba panties, which where in total contrast to the tight, breast-hugging tube top, with it's proud 'Glamour Girl' logo. God, she felt ridiculous, the wind whistling round her bare midriff, the fantastic boob-tube being mocked by her panties. They were so babyish!

'My, what cute little panties you're wearing, 'Glamour Girl'' snickered PussyWhip as the mortified Superheroine reddened further. 'Is this the new costume we've been hearing so much about? It seems very appropriate for a spoiled little brat like you'.

Walking with as much dignity as she could muster (which was not much, as the audience pointed delightedly at the rows and rows of frothy lace covering her seat) she glared at PussyWhip.

'Just you wait', she hissed, then walked back over to the tree, and groaned as she noticed that the cat had gone up to some higher branches. What she could not see was that the invisible Bionic Bimbo, creasing herself with laughter, was also perched up the tree.

'Paula. Dart gun', she snapped.

Paula dug into her bag again and produced the 'Glamour Girl Dart Gun', a small pistol.

Instantly, the small girl began to scream.

'You can't shoot my cat', she hollered.

'It's only a dart gun, sweetheart', said 'Glamour Girl', trying to mask her impatience. 'Just a very mild sedative to calm the little darling down'.

Jumping athletically again, the red-faced Superheroine began to climb the tree, hoping to get this over with quickly, holding the dart-gun in one hand. When she was nearly level with the cat, the Bionic Bimbo chased it across to a parallel branch. Muttering under her breath, 'Glamour Girl' began to cross over to the next branch, not noticing that, with the help of the Bionic Bimbo, the elastic at the back of her panties had snagged in a small knot of wood. As she stretched over to reach the cat, she felt the elastic tighten against her bare stomach. She looked round to see her panties stretching far behind her. She could hear more sniggers on the ground, then looked on helplessly as the panties freed themselves. A loud ping could be heard followed by a yelp of pain from 'Glamour Girl' as the panty elastic snapped against her behind.

'Oooooh!', she whined, as she rubbed her bottom to more laughter from below.

PART 4

Undeterred, the hugely embarrassed superheroine continued her ascent. Just below where the cat was perched, she had to stand on two parallel branches. She turned her back to the tree and began to hoist herself upward. The Bionic Bimbo quickly ensured that the elastic of the panties got snarled again in a prominent knot in the tree. As 'Glamour Girl' heaved herself up, she was suddenly aware that her panties were not moving up with her, as she felt them slide to her knees.

'Oh my God', she whined, humiliatingly aware that the well-manicured 'Glamour Girl' sn*tch was on full display once more. Since her feet were in mid-air she was able to cross her legs to minimise the exhibition she was giving to the laughing, jeering crowd, and to prevent the panties from slipping off altogether.

She knew had no choice but to lower herself again and try to retrieve her errant underwear. As she did so, the Bionic Bimbo hooked the back of the tube top to another knot in the tree-trunk. As 'Glamour Girl' descended, she could feel the boob-tube being hoisted over her head. With another shriek of outraged dignity, she was aware that her magnificent, jiggling breasts were now also on display. Since she was holding herself up by her arms, there was nothing she could do to cover her firm, bouncing tits. Beneath her, cameras clicked, men oggled, and her bitter rival, PussyWhip, pointed and laughed gleefully. And was that a smirk she detected on Paula's face?

'Oh God!' she fumed, in impotent fury.

This was so humiliating! Suspended half-way up a tree, in public, ridiculous panties at half-mast, tits and pussy on display. She knew she had to make a decision. If she hoisted herself up again, she could cover her tits, but would lose her panties. On the other hand, if she continued to lower herself, she could pull-up her panties, but she'd lose the tube top. It was obvious which was the lesser of the two evils. She began to lower herself back on to the branches she'd been standing on. Since they were a couple of feet apart, it meant she had to uncross her legs, and she blushed furiously as her legs opened up, and she gave a glorious unhindered view of her slit, with her legs apart, panties now stretched tightly between her knees. With a rip, the boob-tube tore off. At least she could now cover her tits with one hand, as she reached to pull her panties back up. The crowd, thoroughly enjoying seeing the haughty 'Glamour Girl' taken down a peg or two also noticed that the opened safety-pin at the back of the top had fallen into the widely-stretched panties, behind the mortified, red-faced superheroine's back.

Paula reluctantly felt obliged to warn her employer about the potentially painful contents of her underwear.

'Glamour Girl', she yelled. 'Don't pull up your panties!'

This was not an imprecation the snooty heroine was about to listen to. She'd flashed her pussy quite enough for one day, and the fact that her opened legs gave everyone a first-class view of her pussy-lips made it all the more humiliating. With a quick jerk, she hauled the pink frilly rhumba panties back up. She'd never dreamed she'd be glad to put these juvenile undies back on. There was a brief pause, then a roar of pain from the super-model as the safety-pin jabbed her right ass-cheek.

'Yeeeeeooooow!', she screamed, frantically feeling her ruffled-rear with one hand, while covering her tits with the other.

'Ooooh! My ass!', she whined, to great merriment from below. She stuck her hand into the back of her panties and tried to remove the offending object. Since she was also still covering her tits, she could not use her arms to balance, and felt herself begin to fall. Desperately she reached out, and managed to grab hold of another branch a little lower down. Since she was determined to keep her tits covered and pull the safety-pin out of her butt, she was forced to hang over the branch on her stomach, in a most undignified manner.

Cursing her luck, and the cat, but most of all the crowd below which was greatly enjoying her humiliation, she stuck her hand down the pack of her pink panties again, and with a little yelp, extracted the now very bent safety-pin. She slowly rubbed her punctured ass, while glaring at the mocking spectators.

Dangling over a branch, desperately trying to cover her boobs, tender rear-end stuck up behind her, encased in demeaning, babyish panties, in front of PussyWhip and the world's press was, thought 'Glamour Girl', as bad as it gets. She was wrong.

The cat at last decided to move down the tree. 'Glamour Girl' looked round, and with a sudden shudder of alarm, noticed that it was playing with the dart-gun that she'd been forced to leave behind when the boob-tube had got caught. As the cat continued to toy with the pistol, the now heavily sweating 'Glamour Girl' watched anxiously. The sedative would not have any effect on her, but a dart in the butt from a cat, from her own gun, would be very humiliating, not to mention painful.

'Oh no', she wailed. 'Nice pussy.. drop the gun..there's a nice pussy'.

The crowd, and 'Glamour Girl' were all too aware that her ruffled rump, sticking up behind her, was potentially in the direct line of fire. But surely the cat couldn't inadvertently fire the dart-gun. At least, not without the Bionic Bimbo's help it couldn't. A loud bang was immediately followed by screech of pain as the small, feathered dart lodged itself into the right pink-frilled ass-cheek of the helpless, dangling beauty.

'Yoooooouuuch!', she wailed again, as the crowd laughed hysterically, and 'Glamour Girl' kicked her legs again impotently, making the little dart bounce up and down with her ass.

'I've never been so humiliated in my life', she sobbed, feeling at the seat of her panties to try and remove the dart. She'd just pulled it out painfully when another loud bang was heard, and a second dart punctured the ruffles covering her left ass-cheek.

'Yoooowwww--ooowwww! Oooooooooh!. My ass!'

PART 5

Her poor derriere was now extremely sore and throbbing from these missiles and the safety-pin. And there were 2 more darts in the gun! This called for desperate measures. She wasn't going to hang there and let her rump be used for target-practice by this trigger-happy cat. Quickly pulling out the other dart, with another wince of pain, she scrambled along the branch. In the process, her tender rear came in contact with the bark. She jumped up in pain, and lost her balance, and began to slide off the branch. She aimed her feet for another branch much further down. However, once again she snagged the back of her panties as she began her descent. With another roar of mortification, she found herself suspended in mid-air by the seat of her panties, which were now pulled painfully up into her ass and pussy. Desperately covering her tits, kicking her legs, and shrieking with outrage, she undulated up and down with the swaying branch.

'Get me down from here!', she yelled, crimson-faced, kicking thin air, and seething with impotent rage.

As far as the crowd was concerned, this was too much. The proud, vain 'Glamour Girl' was dangling from a tree, suspended by her pretty frilly panties which were wedged tightly into her pussy. The back of the panties were stretched out behind her half-way up her back. The superb breasts were barely covered by her arms. Some, like PusshWhip laughed outright. Others, such as Paula, and some of the press men, had to bite their tongues to suppress their giggles at this humiliating exhibition.

Still wildly kicking, and feeling herself gently lifted up and down by the branch, squirming as the panties dug into her pussy and ass, 'Glamour Girl' then noticed that, on top of everything else, she was hanging directly above a large drum of tar that the workmen had left beside the tree.

'Oh no!', she wailed, as she felt the panties stretch even further. The on-lookers had just decided that they would have to move the drum, and 'Glamour Girl' had just said a silent prayer about the strength of her elastic, when she heard the sound she dreaded. With one last undignified undulation, there was a loud rip as the crotch of her panties gave way.

'Nooooooo!', she screamed.

As her audience watched gleefully at this latest indignity, the gorgeous, arrogant, snooty 'Glamour Girl' descended, minus her panties, into the thick, black, sticky tar below. For an instant, she was totally submerged. The out of the thick, pitch black mess, her head and shoulders emerged as she regained her feet. The long, expensively cut hair, the beautiful, haughty face, the slender white shoulders, the swelling, round breast were now coated in the disgusting, gooey pitch, which ran slowly and in thick rivulets down her neck, and over her jutting tits.

For a moment she stood in silence, seething, wiping the smelly, thick, revolting goo from her face as the crowd dissolved into laughter. Her torn panties swung gently above her on the branch.

'Get me out of here, you incompetent oaf!', she hissed at Paula.

'Might need to freshen up a bit when you get out of there', said PussyWhip delightedly.

'Glamour Girl' was about to respond with a remark that the gentlemen of the press would not be able to print verbatim when the cat leapt down the tree to the branch where the rhumba panties were hanging. With a swipe of it's paw, it knocked them off the branch and they landed in a pink ruffled heap over the thoroughly humiliated superheroine's head. She sn*tched them off furiously and glared at the cat.

'You can keep the panties by the way, 'Glamour Girl'', said PussyWhip. 'No charge'.

With Paula's help, 'Glamour Girl' climbed slowly out of the barrel. Her poor ass was still very sore, and every inch of her was covered in tar. She realised that loose grass was sticking to the soles of her feet. Even though her tits and pussy were coated in tar, she instinctively covered both with a hand, then realised that they were now almost stuck there as a result.

'Call HQ to get me out of here!' she roared at Paula, who had never enjoyed a mission with 'Glamour Girl' so much.

PART 6

As she stood, now trying to remove her stuck hands from her tits and pubic mound, the cat finally descended, and ran past her. 'Glamour Girl''s patience with it finally snapped, and she tried to aim a kick at the passing feline, but the soles of her feet were so well adhered to the ground that she lost her balance, and fell, ass first, into a wide, wooden, bin.

'Oh! Now what!' she yelled, as she felt her ass against the unpleasant contents of the bin. She struggled for a moment or two in this ungainly position, then, with a pull from Paula, she made it to her feet again, knocking over the bin as she did so. More laugher rang out as 'Glamour Girl' became aware that her ass was now plastered with bits of paper, discarded candy, newspaper, even part of a half-eaten burger, all stuck fast to her tar covered seat. This was so completely degrading! 'Glamour Girl' was used to posing victoriously and sexily for the cameras. Now she was standing naked in public, covered in tar, with the contents of a bin stuck to her ass. Someone would pay for this!

'Get these off me now!', she yelled, bending slightly, hands still sticking to her breasts and pussy. Before Paula could respond, however, the cat decided to investigate the remains of the burger. It leapt on the defenceless posterior to try this delicacy, digging it's claws into the proffered tender butt-cheeks as it did so.

'YEEEEOOOOOOWWW!, hollered 'Glamour Girl', desperately trying to free her hands to clutch her ass and remove the cat.

'Get it off me! Ouuuch!'

With her feet stuck, she had to resort to wiggling her trash-covered butt frantically from side to side as the cat dug in harder to keep hold.

'Oooooww! Yeouch! My ass! Get this goddam cat off my goddam butt! Ooooooh!' she screamed, writhing in discomfort and sheer humiliation.

In her wild attempts to dislodge the cat, she did manage to free her hands, but stumbled again, landing face down into the spilled contents of the bin. The cat ran off, as 'Glamour Girl' regained her feet. Now, as well as the rubbish plastering her rear, her whole front was covered by garbage. A small scrap of paper swung from her nose; a piece of lettuce hung from one breast and polystyrene cup covered the other; and a triangular wedge of ham and tomato pizza was plastered over her tar-covered pussy. The roar of laughter that accompanied this only served to heighten 'Glamour Girl''s wrath.

PART 7

Just then, two large limousines and a van, covered with the 'Glamour Girl' logo screeched to a halt beside the tree, and 'Glamour Girl' personal crew of beauticians, assistants, trainers and secretaries ran to the scene. 'Glamour Girl''s personal retinue was large, and each looked suitably concerned and serious as they approached their employer. Inwardly, they were all as delighted to see this insufferable b*tch thoroughly humiliated as everyone else was. Walking on the tar-covered feet was too difficult, so Paula suggested she sit on a stretcher to be carried to the waiting van.

'You know I can't sit down', she snapped, imperiously.

So she got on to the stretcher face down. Not wanting to squash the pizza into her pussy, she lay on her knees, which meant that her throbbing derriere was sticking up behind her in a most humiliating fashion.

'Get me to the 'Glamour Girl' centre, and be quick about it', she ordered her retinue. 'Paula. Get all the pictures from these ass-holes. And as for you, PussyWhip - I don't know how, but I know you had something to do with this. I'll get even with you, just you wait. No-one gets the better of 'Glamour Girl'!'

The smirking PussyWhip simply laughed at this, then pointed out that the cat had gone back up the tree.

'It can stay there as far as I'm concerned'.

The cat was indeed back up the tree, playing with the dart-gun again. As the stretcher passed, with the 'Glamour Girl' behind stuck-up invitingly, there was another loud bang.

'Yeeeeeoooooow!'

'Glamour Girl''s yelp of pain was nearly drowned by the cheers and laughter from the crowd.

NEXT UP--THE BIG CLEAN-UP

Glamour Girl - The Big Clean-Up , by SHAW
PART 8
After being stripped in public, shot in the ass with her own dart gun, then dropped into a barrel of tar, Glamour Girl was not in a very good mood. She'd been rushed by her team of flunkies to the opulent 'GG HQ' where the clean-up operation began. There she underwent a frantic regime of baths, showers, saunas, steam-baths and hot-tubs as her beauticians scrubbed and sc****d, and cleansed her body of the tar. All the while, the undeniably gorgeous, but equally undeniably b*tchy, superheroine-cum-model berated her employees and cursed and swore her wrath on PussyWhip.
Then she was laid face-down on a trolley, ass high in the air, while plasters were applied to her butt where the dart-gun had struck her. If her mood was vile, and her pretty, spoiled little face contorted with fury at the sheer indignity of what had happened, her employees were inwardly ecstatic at seeing this spoiled, snooty little brat so completely degraded. Rather more of her workers than was strictly necessary found excuses to wander into the room where the red-faced beauty was lying having her superbly rounded rear-end tended to. The invisible Bionic Bimbo was also standing at the back, fighting back her sniggers, awaiting the chance the execute another of PussyWhip's devilish schemes.
There was one other person who was delighted with Glamour Girls' humiliation. This was her fellow super-heroine 'Power Princess'. She considered herself to be a proper super-heroine, and despised what she saw as Glamour Girl's shameless self-publicising. Power Princess on the other hand played the part of super-heroine to the hilt. She always wore a small-dark mask to conceal her identity. She wore a utility belt with small compartments crammed with useful Power Princess devices. She also occasionally used a jet-pack to 'fly' through the air.
Like Glamour Girl, though, she was extremely proud of her body, for good reason. Her legs were long and slender, and her behind was every bit as shapely and rounded as Glamour Girl's. If her breasts were not quite as large and full as her rival's, they were firm and succulent. Her hair was long and jet black, and on her head she always wore a little crown, like a beauty queen. Her costume consisted of tight, white, breast-hugging lycra top, and equally tight white briefs, that accentuated the sensual swell of her butt-cheeks. To give a sharp and sexy contrast to the pure white of her costume, she wore sheer, dark nylon tights underneath, that made her legs even more alluring.
Power Princess was in fact the wealthy society socialite, Amanda Cox, so money was no object in funding her past-time as a super-heroine, but, unlike Glamour Girl, she guarded her real identity jealously. Also, she and Glamour Girl publicly praised each other's efforts, like sister super-heroines. And Power Princess was doing just that at a hastily convened press conference just outside the gates of the mansion that served as Glamour Girl HQ.
The reporter wanted to know if Power Princess had heard from her 'friend' since her ordeal. The prostrate Glamour Girl watched, with increasing fury, on a TV beside the trolley.
'Yes, I phoned to sympathise with her earlier'
'Lying b*tch'.
'Obviously it was a terrible ordeal. I'm afraid PussyWhip really beat her hands down this time.'
Power Princess tried to look concerned and sympathetic, but her patronising tone and barely suppressed grin revealed her true feelings.
'It will take her a long time to recover from this. Having to wear these babyish panties was pretty humiliating in itself - after all, she is Glamour Girl, and frilly rhumba panties are not what you associate with a glamorous crime-fighter. Then being shot in the behind with her own dart gun…swinging from the tree by her underwear…and the tar…and falling into that bin…God, my heart went out to her'.
'I'm sure it did you insufferable, stuck-up little b*tch!' snarled Glamour Girl.
'Of course', continued Power Princess happily, 'she should leave the likes of PussyWhip to real super-heroines.'
'Do you think PussyWhip will try to humiliate you as well', asked a reporter.
'She may try, but she'll find that I'm a tougher proposition than poor, dear Glamour Girl, who was caught, literally, with her panties down.'
'Did you send any cards, or flowers?'
'I sent her a very large, very well-padded cushion. I think she'll need it'.
This last part was at least true, and the cushion lay at the far side of the room that Glamour Girl was in. Power Princess's only regret was that she would not be there to see Glamour Girl use it. Power Princess had stuck half a dozen thumb-tacks through a small round beer-mat, then taken the cover off the cushion, and attached the beer-mat to the stuffing. The fiendish device could not therefore be seen, but would certainly be felt by anyone sitting on it.
'Switch that simpering little cow off!' ordered Glamour Girl. Paula did as she was told.
The clean-up operation was all but complete, except that poor Glamour Girl's pubic hair was still matted with tar, and there were one or two bald patches left when the pizza that had become stuck to her pussy was removed.
'Get everybody out of here, and send in Dr. Kunliquer'.
After this terrible ordeal, Glamour Girl felt able, at last, to enjoy herself. Dr. Kunliquer was not a very good doctor, but she was young, and very attractive, and Glamour Girl saw an excellent opportunity to have some fun.
The young doctor entered, as Glamour Girl turned on to her back on the trolley. She noticed with satisfaction that her eyes wandered over her perfect breasts, then down to between her legs.
'My pussy will have to be shaved, Dr.', she cooed. 'And you're the one to do it. Hand me over that pillow'.
Kunliquer passed the pillow sent from Power Princess, and Glamour Girl eased herself on to it, but only rested her behind on the edge, so she did not discover the thumb-tacks.
There were two brackets on either side of the trolley, and Glamour Girl put her legs into them. The Dr. began to tremble as she surveyed this vision of loveliness lying with her legs up in the air and wide apart.
'Better fasten the brackets to hold my legs in place' she said softly, getting a wicked thrill from the sense of helplessness that resulted. Of course, she was in complete control, but she loved to play games like this.
'Now you may shave me - but be gentle', she said, beginning to feel her pussy moisten, knowing that she was displaying herself so completely to this lovely young doctor.
She applied some shaving cream, then very carefully began to shave-off her pubic hair. She trembled and shuddered as the shaving brush tickled her pussy, and sighed and moaned as the doctor delicately removed the pubic hair, making her pussy hotter, and her nipples stiff and hard.

PART 9
Soon she was gazing longingly at the nude, soft, succulent slit, the pussy-lips obviously engorged with lust.
'Now…' she said breathlessly, 'you'd better apply some oil to soften up the skin. I want you to massage it in gently…all over my pussy…and my clit…rub lots all over my clit'.
As the doctor went for the oil, Glamour Girl, on the verge of orgasm, noted how nervously she moved—she was as turned on as the superheroine. Soon she was sliding her oily hands all over the slippery, juicy slit, and rubbing her fingers over the enlarged clitoris. Glamour Girl writhed and moaned some more, her pussy molten with sheer desire as her expert fingers pleasured her.
'Quickly, there's a vibrator in that drawer…push it inside me…now!'.
Hardly able to look away, Kunliquer fetched the vibrator hurriedly and switched it on to a low setting. the room was filled with the low hum of the dildo, as Glamour Girl watched her intently, dying to feel it against her.
'Rub it against my clit first. Ohhhhh….yes….now, put it inside me, harder'.
Thedoctor gazed, mesmerised, as the long, thick, pink vibrator parted the pussy lips, and slipped into the hot, pink hole. Glamour Girl cried out as she felt it press against the walls of her pussy.
'Oooooh yesss!….Harder…Yessss! Now touch yourself while you lick my clit', she ordered, panting.
It was at that moment that the Bionic Bimbo decided to set-off the fire alarm.
'DAMN!', yelled Glamour Girl in sheer frustration. 'Quickly - cover me up'.
Kunliquer quickly closed her lab coat, and threw a blanket over the still highly-aroused Glamour Girl just as a group of her employees burst in to take her to safety.
There was no fire, of course, except for the furnace that was still raging between Glamour Girls' legs, especially as the vibrator was still throbbing gently inside her. She lay on the trolley outside the building, dying to get back inside and let Dr. Kunliquer finish what she had started. After all her humiliations, it would do her considerable ego no harm at all to have her pussy licked by such a beauty. Even saying the phrase 'pussy licked' to herself sent shudders of lust through her body.
Paula came over.
'They've nearly finished checking the building, so it shouldn't be long'.
'Just get a move on, will you, you incompetent buffoon'.
Paula was used to such rebukes and ignored it.
'Do you hear a humming noise?'.
'No', said Glamour Girl defensively, almost fainting with desire at the throbbing of the vibrator between her widely parted legs. 'Certainly not. Now tell these idiots to get a move on, or I'll catch a cold'.
Paula walked off suspiciously, noting also that Dr. Kunliquer was sheepishly looking off in the distance, unsuccessfully attempting to act nonchalant.
The Bionic Bimbo now saw her chance. The trolley was sitting at the top of the steep drive-way that led to Glamour Girl HQ. With an evil laugh to herself, she released the brake on the trolley, and gave it a little push. Glamour Girl was so taken up with the continued, tantalising throbbing in her sopping wet pussy that it took her a moment or two to notice that she was in motion.
'Help…quickly…stop this trolley', she yelled.
Paula darted round and made a dive for the runaway trolley, but could not get a proper hold of it. All she succeeded in doing was inadvertently pulling off the blanket that was covering poor Glamour Girl.
'NOOOO!!!!', she shrieked, as the trolley picked-up speed. She was helpless to do anything about it, her legs secured high in the air by the clamps at the side.
The press conference at the bottom of the drive was nearing it's end. as the astonished assembly looked round to see what the commotion was. If they could not believe their eyes, neither could the TV audience having their pictures relayed by the video cameraman.
Here, hurtling towards them was the beautiful, snooty crime-fighter and super-model, flat on her back, stark naked, breasts wobbling like jelly, her legs up in the air, fully splayed out giving a very graphic view of her bald-as-a-billiard-ball pussy, glistening and slippery, with a huge, pink, throbbing vibrator stuffed inside it.
'Help! Help!', screamed the red-faced beauty, as the trolley sped towards them. Power Princess could not believe her eyes or her luck.
'Dirty little b*tch!', she thought.

PART 10
'Stand aside! This is a job for Power Princess'.
As the trolley trundled past, Power Princess grabbed the push bar, and landed her feet on the lower deck. She gazed down happily at the squirming, beet-red Glamour Girl.
'The brake! Apply the brake! It's at the other end!'.
Power Princess was in no hurry, though. The road led directly into the centre of town, and already pedestrians and motorists were stopping to get an eyeful of the beautiful, perfectly displayed Glamour Girl pussy enveloping the huge, pulsating dildo. Like most women, Glamour Girl found accidentally displaying her panties, or bra, embarrassing, so publicly scooting through town bare-breasted, with a vibrator stuck-up her newly shaved sn*tch, and her legs held high and wide was mortifying to say the least. Power Princess was loving every minute of it.
However, Power Princess realised that she had to look as if she was trying to help, so she hauled herself up on to the trolley, and tried to reach the far end for the brake. The oil that Kunliquer had so expertly applied had spilled on to the trolley, and Power Princess felt it seep though her nylons at the knees. Just then, the trolley hit a bump, her knees slipped on the oily surface, and she crashed heavily down on the helpless, prostrate, pussy-flashing Glamour Girl. Power Princess face was now only inches from Glamour Girl naked clit, and her own ass was up against Glamour Girl's chin. The astounded male on-lookers gasped in delight. Now Power Princess was apparently licking the bald, wet pussy in front of her.

'Get off me, you clumsy oaf', yelled Glamour Girl, and the mixture of anger, frustration and dire humiliation proved too much for her. Power Princess's superb posterior, encased in brilliant white lycra was too tempting a target, and she gave the left butt cheek a vicious, very satisfying spank. Power Princess shrieked in outrage at this indignity, and was about to protest when she felt another stinging, humiliating spank to her right butt cheek. Her anger was heightened by the obvious delight that this gave to the growing number of spectators. Hot lesbian sex, and spanking!
She eased herself up, and back to a standing position with her feet back on the lower deck of the trolley.
'Can't reach the brake', she lied. She gave her stinging behind a rueful rub, then put her head down to Glamour Girl's ear.
'Spank me, would you b*tch, well I'll show you'.
'Stop this trolley at once! The whole town is looking at my naked pussy'
'Oh. poor Glamour Girl. Is this terribly humiliating. I suppose it must be. Flashing your pussy would be bad enough, but flashing a shaved pussy with a dildo inside it, with your legs wide open, that's gotta be pretty embarrassing'.
The trolley was now in the town centre, and had slowed considerably, but Power Princess had no intention of stopping it. Indeed, she surreptitiously gave it a little more momentum with one of her feet.
Then she reached forward for the pillow, and pulled it back a bit.
'Let's see if we can at least make you a little more comfortable'.
Glamour Girl, mortified and crimson, burning with shame at the 'X-rated' show she was giving of herself, took her wrath out on her delighted colleague.
'You b*tch! You're enjoying this! Just you wait, I'll…YEEEEEOOOWWW!'.
At last, the firm, rounded butt cheeks of Glamour Girl had come into contact with the thumb-tacks in the cushion. She jerked upwards as she felt the tacks on her ass. But she could not hold herself up for very long. Inevitably, she sank back down again on to the cushion, then with another loud yell of pain, jerked up once more. Power Princess laughed delightedly.
'Yeeeeoow! You b*tch! There's something in the cushion! Yooouch! Oh, pull it away. I can't hold myself up. Yeeeoooowww! Oh my ass!'.
The chasing news team had caught up with the runaway trolley, and Glamour Girl’s considerable embarrassment, as the thronging crowds stopped in the street to enjoy the show, was heightened by catching a glimpse of a TV salesroom as they passed. There, on a dozen different screens, large and small, were the live pictures of her gyrating pussy as she bucked up and down, landing on the cushion, only to jerk up again, thrusting her sn*tch around, making the vibrator wave about as she did so, almost as if she wanted the crowd to get an even better look at her pink slit than they were getting already. This was totally humiliating, and totally degrading, and the fact that Power Princess was so obviously relishing it made it even worse.
'Don't worry, sister super-heroine. We'll be making an emergency stop soon. But it might be a little painful'.
'Please, no more…Yeeeoow!… Haven't I been humiliated enough…Oooowww!'
Then Glamour Girl noticed that they were now in a cul-de-sac. At the end of the street, at the bottom of the hill, was a garden centre. Outside, prominently displayed, was a large, very vicious looking, gaint cactus and the trolley was on a direct course for it.
'Nooo! Please! Yeeoow! You wouldn't! Ooooohhh!'.
'You want to stop this thing don't you?', said Power Princess, leaning down to Glamour Girl's ear again. 'You think you've been humiliated already - just wait till the whole town sees you sitting on a giant cactus, b*tch!'.
The masked beauty's grin turned to a scowl as she tried to raise her head, but realised, after a sharp tug, that her hair was caught in the Glamour Girl ear-rings. This would have been no more than annoying if a public-spirited citizen had not reached out at that point to grab one of the trolley's legs, in an attempt to stop it. Both snooty super-heroines saw the world revolve 180 degrees, as the trolley turned. For a moment it stopped, as the man desperately held on. Power Princess eyed his slipping fingers with alarm, for good reason. The trolley was now facing the other way, and she was bent down over the front. Her superb, full, rounded butt was now sticking up and out, and only 12 yards from the giant cactus. With her hair yanked in the ear-ring, there was nothing she could do to take her very prominent posterior out of the firing line.

PART 11
'Hold on! Don't let go!', she shouted, desperately, trying to tug her hair free. Glamour Girl, despite lying with her legs wide open and naked, vibrator-filled pussy on display managed a smile, and prayed the man's grasp would slip. Part of the crowd wanted this rescue to succeed, but most were dying to see the haughty Power Princess's delectable ass become a pin-cushion.
Agonisingly, the man slowly lost his hold, and the trolley picked up speed again.
'Nooooo!', screamed Power Princess, watching helplessly as her shapely, white-lycra clad ass hurtled towards the cactus, presenting a perfect, and well-deserved target.
'Noooo! This can't be happening to me!'.
The next second, there was a dull thump as the trolley came to rest, followed by a loud, prolonged squeal of pain from the masked super-heroine as she found herself sitting painfully, and humiliatingly, on the hundreds of sharp needles.
'YEEEEEEEOOOOOOOWWWWCH! Ooooow! My ass! Ooooooowwwww!'
The spectators could not hold in their laughter at the sight of the bent-over, snooty masked avenger with her ass stuck fast on the cactus. She kicked, and squealed, and cursed and swore in impotent fury at her predicament - stuck ass-first in a cactus in front of the whole town. This was not only extremely painful, it was very, very humiliating.
'Get me off this goddam cactus', she wailed, wincing with pain, trying not move a muscle, as each movement made the needles already sticking into her butt jab her more.
Glamour Girl's retinue had arrived by this time, their sides aching at the laughter this humiliating episode had induced. Paula removed Glamour Girl's ear-ring, and her aides held blankets up around her so that she could dress herself in the Glamour Girl costume that Paula had brought.
'Hey, Glamour Girl', a man shouted from the crowd. 'Don't forget to take the dildo out before you put your panties on!'.

PART 12
Glamour Girl glared at him, as the crowd laughed. After she'd dressed, she took the bottle of oil and poured some on to the ground at the far end of the trolley. Meanwhile, the continued yelps and oaths from Power Princess, sitting on her cactus throne, were music to her ears.
She got off the trolley, and looked defiantly at the crowd, now feeling like her old self, dressed in the tight, sexy Glamour Girl outfit. Her imperious look was slightly undermined by her need to rub her butt that had been bouncing up and down on the tacks for the last few minutes. Then she turned to Power Princess.
'Okay, we'd better try and extricate her fat butt from this cactus'.
Now it was Power Princess's turn to glare as her rival revelled in the situation.
'You', snapped Glamour Girl to one of her aides. 'Pull the trolley forward - gently.'
The aide did as he was told, and Power Princess felt something akin to relief as her rump was finally pulled out of the prickly plant. But her relief was short-lived. After a couple of yards, the aide slipped on the oil that Glamour Girl had poured on the ground. With a cry of disbelief, and apprehension, Power Princess felt herself rolling back to the cactus again.
'Oh noooo!'
The spectators cheered and laughed as her taut, shapely butt, already covered in sharp, jabbing cactus needles, landed in another part of the plant. Power Princess howled in pain and fury as she felt the needles stick in to parts of her rear-end that had escaped the first time.
'Aaaaaagghhh! Get me out of here! Ooooohh! It's not fair', she whined. 'Ooooww! My ass! Do something!'
'You stupid idiot', yelled Glamour Girl, in mock rage to her aide. 'Her butt's already covered in cactus needles. Now the poor dear is sitting in the cactus again, as if she hasn't been humiliated enough'.
Power Princess felt this sham concern as keenly as the pain in her ass.
Eventually, the trolley was pulled forward and round, so that it was no longer facing downhill. This also meant that the Power Princess butt was turned round into the full view of the large crowd on the street, who sniggered at what they say. The gorgeous, well-rounded ass cheeks were covered in a mass of very painful needles. There were even some where her sexy lycra briefs met the dark nylon tights at the top of her thighs.
'She won't be sitting down for weeks!'
'It's high time the snooty little b*tch was taken down a peg or two'.
'Yeah. Serves little Miss High-And-Mighty right'.
Power Princess's ears burned in shame as she heard the obvious pleasure her degrading ordeal was giving to everyone - especially Glamour Girl. The latter turned the cushion on the trolley upside down and instructed her aides to lay the distressed super-heroine face down over it.
'Now take her back to 'GG' HQ and well try and get the cactus out of her poor little butt'.
So Power Princess began the humiliating return to her rival's HQ. Face down over the cushion, with her cactus-covered butt stuck up in the air, she groaned in embarrassment and mortification as the people of the town sniggered and called-out as she passed. She tried to lie as still as possible, as every movement of her rump caused her to wince in pain as the needles pressed against her butt.
'Yeeeoow! Ooooohh!' she wailed, as a particularly bad bump on the road made her ass wiggle.
'Stop!', cried Galmour Girl. 'I can't bear to see my fellow crime-fighter suffer like this. I'll start pulling the needles out now'.
Despite Power Princess's protestations, Glamour Girl got on to the trolley, and sitting across the mortified super-heroine's back, facing her butt, she began to extract some of the cactus needles. This would have been painful enough even when done carefully. But Glamour Girl ensured that each time she removed one, she pressed it in a little first, or brushed some others with her hand, so the powerless Princess was having her defenceless rear continually pricked and jabbbed.
'Oooow! Careful! Yeeouch! Watch what you're doing. Aiiieee! Can't you be more careful. My ass is…yeeeow! It's not fair! Oooooh!'
The sight of the mighty Power Princess yelping in pain as cactus needles were painfully picked out of her butt was hugely entertaining to the crowd, and very, very satisfying to Glamour Girl, who was able to forget about her own ordeal to an extent as she enjoyed the humiliation of the dark-haired beauty squirming and bucking beneath her.
Power Princess's humiliation was complete as the trolley re-passed the TV salesroom, and she caught a glimpse of Glamour Girl gleefully removing the needles from her up-turned, cactus-covered butt on the TV screens all over the shop - on TV screens all over the country!. She clenched her fists in pain and mortification at the totally ridiculous spectacle she made.
'Please be more careful. You…aggggh!…spiteful…yeeeoch!…little b*tch! Owwwwhhh!'

PART 13
Eventually, the degrading procession reached 'GG HQ' and the sniggering beauticians assisted 'Glamour Girl' in finishing the task of removing the rest of the needles from Power Princess's sore and tender posterior. Her humiliation continued as the beauticians had to cut away the super-heroine costume to pull-out some needles that had gone right through her briefs, in between her ass-cheeks. She squirmed in sheer humiliation as she was forced to present her up-turned bare ass to these gloating minions and bitter rival, while they spread her butt-cheeks to access the most painful of the cactus needles. All the while she got to relive sitting on the cactus and being paraded through town face down on a trolley via television news repeating the rating-grabbing clips. Her tears had made a mess of her makeup even before she had gotten her backside free from the spiky plant. She would have dreaded to think what her face looked like now, if she could get her mind off of the thorns being pulled from her nude backside, or Glamour Girl smirking in triumph.
The final ordeal she had to face was a press conference inside the media-suite at 'GG HQ'. Her costume having been cut to pieces, she was forced to cover herself in a short, silk robe that a snickering 'Glamour Girl' provided. 'Glamour Girl' had been careful to remove the belt first, so that 'Power Princess' was had to hold the robe across herself with her hand.
The two answered questions for the media, trying to play-down the double humiliation they had suffered.
'PussyWhip may be claiming credit for the unfortunate series of events', said Glamour Girl, 'but she had nothing to do with it. And I just want to clear up, here and now, that it was not a vibrator, but a delicate medical instrument that Dr. Kunliquer was using to examine me'.
The reporters winked and nudged each other, as Glamour Girl felt herself blush.
'And I want to thank my fellow super-heroine for trying to assist me, even if it ended badly for her'.
Power Princess, holding her robe closed, with her pretty little crown still perched on her head, also paid clenched-teeth tribute to the 'assistance' that Glamour Girl had given.
'I know that PussyWhip is trying to claim some credit for this, but I repeat that that little b*tch is no match for Power Princess. As for the cactus', she continued, now blushing furiously, 'it looked worse than it was. My special Power Princess briefs shielded me from most of the needles'.
The press then asked for some pictures. The two posed with as much dignity as they could. Then they asked if they could have one of Power Princess sitting.
'Certainly', she replied.
As she began to sit, 'Glamour Girl' walked behind her, and placed a cushion of the chair for her.
'Thank-you' said Power Princess through gritted teeth, as the reporters sniggered.
As she sat, she caught sight of Glamour Girl covering her mouth to stifle some laughter. Too late, the masked beauty realised that the cushion was the one that she had sent to Glamour Girl in the first place. As her already extremely tender rump pressed hard down on the thumb-tacks, she roared in pain, then leapt several feet into the air clutching the cheeks of her ass with both hands. The robe fell open, and the clicking press photographers snapped away happily as the beet-red super-heroine displayed her glorious, swelling breasts and delectable pussy, as she danced round the stage, franticly rubbing her throbbing behind.


NEXT UP: POWER PRINCESS PLOTS HER REVENGE
(Well, she may be playing the long game, but it won't be dull. We'll very soon meet a new main character. It may be some time before I post the next set.)

Thank you so much for doing this!
 

Like many people on here I love Shaw's writing, its amazing that after all these years there are now illustrations. BTW, are you ever going to post the rest of the Aquanet mafia stuff, I also like that story/illustrations.

I like it. I assume it will continue at some point. I needed to take a break to get enough ideas to make something new. I might jump in and finish the current storyline at almost any time, but the next story will be a while in the making. For Shaw's stuff, that was only 1/7th of the length of this whole series. Not to mention that I wrote a sequel half as long after that.

Power Princess Plots Her Revenge – by SHAW

PART 14
The previous couple of days had been bad ones for superheroines as PussyWhip continued her campaign to make them laughing-stocks by publicly humiliating them. Power Princess and Glamour Girl had hurtled through the streets on a trolley, Glamour Girl, naked, with a vibrator throbbing inside her pussy, and Power Princess ending up sitting on a large cactus.
Now there was new excitement in the town. The talented, much-celebrated star Amada Venturi was coming to play a concert. Men and women alike were variously fascinated or made envious by the divas talent, voice, and beauty. Moreover, she had recently been the subject of a “kiss and tell” feature in Metropolitan Fashion magazine, where an interview highlighted her incredible exploits with other celebrities, both male and female. Wherever she went, she was the stuff of fantasy. PussyWhip already had fairly advanced plans about kidnapping the diva.
A special ball was being given in Amada's honour at the Grand Hotel. Stephanie Cox, the bratty younger sister of Power Princess’s mundane identity, had used her wealthy family's connections to get an invite. The spoiled, hedonistic, horny twenty-one year-old was not going to let an opportunity like this pass her by and she breezed into the reception wearing a classic, very short black dress. Stephanie always wore her dresses as short as possible and reveled in the attention that resulted from the slavering men (and some women!) who gazed, hypnotized, at her long, shapely legs.
Like her prissy older sister, the wayward Stepanie had luxurious dark hair, but with lighter highlights. Though her breasts were nowhere near as ample as her sister's, she gave Nature a hand with some strategically placed padding.
As she walked up the steps of the plush hotel, local car-dealer, the rather rotund 'Honest Hank' was organising a publicity ad for the latest sports car in his range. He wanted to cash in on the media attention that had already been generated by Venturi's presence, and he and his cameraman were preparing to broadcast from outside the hotel.
'Twenty dollars if you could pose in front of the car for us, Miss', shouted Honest Hank hopefully, entranced by the sexy figure in front of him.
'In your dreams, fatso', replied Stephanie, a little insensitively, as she entered the hotel.
She soon spotted her prey, standing in a corner, by a candle-lit table near a staircase. She was dressed in an expensive dress that d****d beautifully over her superb body, tight in all of the right places. But the dark-haired beauty was not alone - an exceptionally busty cocktail waitress, who had obviously also read the singer’s 'kiss and tell' article was lingering, tray in hand, flirting outrageously with her.
Stephanie was indignant as she watched Amada smiling and chatting, her eyes transfixed on the cocktail waitress's substantial cleavage that strained against her skimpy French maid uniform.
'She's just a common maid!', she thought. 'She's not supposed to linger, she's supposed to serve!'
Stephanie approached the pair, and took a glass of champagne from the tray. The two were so engrossed in their conversation that they did not notice Stephanie discretely pour a little of her drink on to her own shoe. Then she poked the waitress in the back.
'Shouldn't you be taking your drinks tray round, young lady', she said in a superior fashion, though the waitress was only a year younger than Stephanie. 'After all, you are a waitress, aren't you? The hired help are not supposed to socialise with the guests'.
The cocktail waitress shot Stephanie an angry look, turned and smiled to Amada, saying she hoped to see more of her later, and began to walk off, deliberately pushing Stephanie to one side as she passed. But Stephanie put out her foot, tripping the maid, who was sent sprawling on to the ground with a crash, giving Amada, and the rest of the guests a flash of her powder blue panties as she landed with her skirt riding up over her waist.
The maid sat up and hastily pulled her skirt down over her hips.
'You b*tch!', she snapped, as the hotel manager rushed over to see what the commotion was.
Stephanie turned to the manager, pleased to see that he was immediately entranced by her lovely young body and face.
'This clumsy oaf stood on my foot, and spilled champagne all over my new shoes', she explained. 'Then she insulted me, as you just heard. Either she goes, or you get a bill to replace my two hundred dollar shoes'.
There was never any doubt about what the manager would do, and he led the protesting waitress away to his office to dismiss her. Smiling happily, Stephanie turned to Amada, and felt a delightful twinge in her pussy as she surveyed the face and body that she was determined to spend the night with.
'Cox', she said, extending her hand.
'Pardon me'.
'Stephanie Cox.'
“A pleasure,” responded the gorgeous singer, 'Are you having fun?'
'I believe that they will be serving some food shortly', she continued.
'Oh good. Things always go better with something hot', said Stephanie.
Stephanie could hardly wait to drag her upstairs and unwrap the goodies.
Trays of food were placed on a long table near them, but there was only one thing that Stephanie wanted to taste.

(More to come. It may be some time. But this next section is one of my favorites in all stories in this genre, so I promise it will be worthwhile.)

PART 15
It was at this point that Glamour Girl arrived. Partly she was there to give some superheroine protection to such an important celebrity, but mostly she was there because, like Stephanie, there was no way she’d let such a beautiful and popular visiting star escape her clutches. Indeed, it would be difficult to say who was the bigger sl*t - Glamour Girl or Stephanie Cox.
Glamour Girl was wearing her latest 'Glamour Girl' outfit, a light blue lycra bodysuit that looked as if it had been sprayed on to her. A red 'GG' logo across her chest, and a tiny pair of tight red briefs served to accentuate the egotistical superheroine's magnificent tits and ass. She was also sporting, for the first time, the Glamour Girl Utility Belt which contained an assortment of crime-fighting devices as well as her lipstick, eye-shadow and a spare pair of panties.
Trailing in her wake was an awe-struck security guard, who followed behind partly from deference but mostly so that she could feast her eyes on the swaying Glamour Girl blue-lycra clad bubble-butt as she gracefully walked ahead.
It did not take long for Glamour Girl to locate Amada, and Stephanie looked daggers at her rival as the vain, permanently horny superheroine stuck her large melon-like breasts between Miss Cox and Amada.
'Hi! I'm Glamour Girl. I'll be your bodyguard for tonight - and that's quite a body you've got to guard', she said seductively, eyes sparkling.
Amada nearly fainted as she took this luscious vision of undiluted pulchritude before her. Stephanie was not pleased, and she poked Glamour Girl angrily on the shoulder.
'Hands off b*tch, she's all mine', she said, less than diplomatically.
Glamour Girl kept her composure with maddening ease.
'And who might you be?', she asked sweetly.
'Stephanie Cox'.
Glamour Girl signaled to the security card who handed her a clipboard with the names of the guests attached to it.
'I don't see your name here', lied Glamour Girl. 'Have you any ID?'
'No - I haven't got any ID on me, you simpering, fat-assed bimbo! I don't need ID. I'm Stephanie Cox!'.
Stephanie was just congratulating herself on the wit and subtlety of her put-down when she felt herself being grabbed from behind by the security guard.
'What are you doing! Let me go'.

The guard held Stephanie's arms out as Glamour Girl took a pair of Glamour Girl Handcuffs from her Utility Belt, put the chain round one of the railings by the staircase and then locked the cuffs round the struggling Stephanie's wrists.
'You can't do this to me!', she screamed impotently as she rattled the chain of the handcuffs against the railing. 'Let me go this instant!'.
Stephanie's remonstrations only served to draw the attention of the other well-heeled guests to her predicament.
'You are not on the list of guests, so I will have to search you for concealed weapons', said Glamour Girl.
'This is ridiculous! Where could I conceal any weapons in this outfit?'
Glamour Girl did not give the obvious reply, but instead took the hem of Stephanie's little black dress in her hands, and with an evil smile, ripped it off her body in one dramatic movement.
'Oooooh!', squealed the mortified Stephanie, blushing furiously as she now stood stripped to her lacy white bra and panties. Her protestations had ensured that all eyes in the room were now upon her. While Stephanie loved to be the centre of attention, this was positively humiliating, stripped to her underwear in public by this big-titted show-off.
'You b*tch!', she wailed, pulling at the handcuffs again, mortified beyond belief that she could do nothing to cover herself up.
For her part, the already greatly aroused Glamour Girl felt an extra surge of excitement at the prospect of degrading this bratty socialite in front of the gorgeous star. She and Stephanie were engaged in an old-fashioned war between two beauties, and Glamour Girl was winning hands down.

PART 16
'Now let’s see', said Glamour Girl, pulling at the cups of the crimson-faced Stephanie's bra. 'Nope…certainly no concealed weapons in there. I'm surprised you can find bras small enough for these', she added b*tchily.
Stephanie fumed at this verbal assault on her breasts and stomped her foot indignantly.
'You let me go this instant! You can't do this to me!'.
Glamour Girl ignored her, though Stephanie's rage was music to her ears.
'But what's this?', she asked, and with a flourish, pulled out the two pieces of padding that Stephanie had stuffed into her bra.
Glamour Girl held them up for all the guests to see, and there was a great deal of laughter at this revelation, especially from the other females present. Stephanie's rage and mortification increased as Glamour Girl teased her about her bust size.
'Maybe you should go back to training bras', she laughed.
Then she pulled the Stephanie's panty elastic out at the back, and let it snap back painfully across her rear. Then she turned Stephanie round 45 degrees, and pulled the panties out at the front.
'No…nothing very exciting in there either', she said, deliberately pushing Stephanie back a little…just far enough so that her right butt cheek brushed against one of the candle flames.
'Yeeeoooow!', yelped Stephanie, hopping from foot to foot, realising how ridiculous she must appear, unable to rub her scalded behind.
'Oh, sorry', said Glamour Girl unconvincingly. 'Here…this will help cool you off'.
She took the champagne out of the ice-bucket, pulled out Stephanie's panties at the back, then emptied the cold contents down the back of the pretty white panties. There was another burst of laughter as Stephanie froze as the ice cascaded over her rear-end and down over her pussy.
'No need to thank me', said Glamour Girl.

'You b*tch! Let me go!', demanded Stephanie, wiggling her increasingly frozen, damp behind. 'I'm Stephanie Cox!'
'Oh! Stephanie COX', said Glamour Girl. 'I'm terribly sorry - my mistake. You are on my list after all. I must have misheard you. I thought you said 'Stephanie sl*t'. Let her go'.
'Do you have the key?' asked the security guard.
'Darn it, you know, I can tell you exactly where it is. It's on my dressing table at home. Get a hacksaw and cut her loose'.
Glamour Girl then took Amada by the arm and began to escort her away.
'Where are you going? You can't leave me like this!', yelled the squirming Stephanie.
'I've got to take Miss Venturi upstairs to do some routine security checks. The guard will let you go. Bye!'.
'But my panties are all wet!'.
Glamour Girl simply turned, smirking.
'I don't suppose that is anything unusual for you, honey', she said to much amusement, and off she went, hand-in-hand with her prize.
The males watching were entranced by the sight of this lovely female in her scanty, sexy lingerie. The females, some of whom had lost boyfriends, even husbands, to the sultry Stephanie were delighted to see this little man-eater freezing her butt off while she waited on the guard to release her.
Stephanie pulled hard against the railings once more in sheer anger and humiliation. Here she was, bra hanging loosely, squirming in her ice-filled panties, on general display to the amusement of her socialite acquaintances, while her rival was walking off arm-in-arm with the beautiful celebrity that she had set her sights on. Where on earth was that guard!
Eventually, she noticed the guard re-enter the reception at the far end of the room, with a hacksaw in her hand. But a sudden hush round the room alerted Stephanie to a new development. Walking towards her, fastening her coat, on her way out, was the recently dismissed cocktail waitress.

(As you might guess, this is about to get better.)

OMG you are so talented please keep up this fantastic job !!

Thanks, I'm going to work on this one a while. My sequels are pretty fun in the same vein, once I get to that part there might be a little hiatus because I included way too many characters in them. It involves spies, our supervillainess PussyWhip from this story, Glamour Girl and Power Princess, a few other supervillainesses that are cheap knockoffs of comic book favorites, a heist, a museum, a gala, and two attractive cooking show personalities, one English, one American...

Power Princess Plots Her Revenge - Part Two by Shaw

PART 18
Eventually, Stephanie noticed the guard re-enter the reception at the far end of the room, with his hacksaw in her hand. But a sudden hush round the room alerted Stephanie to a new development. Walking towards her, fastening her coat, on her way out, was the recently dismissed cocktail waitress.

The waitress stopped, hardly daring to believe what she was seeing. Then they both glanced over at the advancing guard in the distance, then looked at each other again.

'Don't even think about it!', hissed Stephanie.

The cocktail waitress knew that she would have to move quickly, that she had seven or eight seconds at most. But this was too good a chance for revenge to pass up. In one swift movement she picked up a large cream pie from one of the trays, took a hold of the helpless Stephanie's hair at the back, and pushed her head forward, while she jammed the pie into the snooty socialite's face with her other hand.

Stephanie spluttered and spat, as the waitress, with great relish, twisted the pie over the haughty features, till Stephanie was masked by a thick layer of white cream. Then she yanked down the loose bra, exposing Stephanie's small, but perfectly formed breasts.

'No!', she yelped, helplessly.

The audience loved seeing poor Stephanie squeal in outrage, unable to wipe the pie from her face, or cover her exposed, modestly proportioned tits.

Again moving quickly, the waitress turned Stephanie round, and, gripping the back of the expensive, lacy white panties, pulled them down over her beautiful butt, down to her knees. Before Stephanie even had time to protest, the waitress then delivered a hard spank to each of the exposed cheeks.

PART 19

'Oooow! Yeeoww!', yelped Stephanie, as two bright red hand-prints appeared on her frozen ass cheeks. Stephanie could not believe that she was being publicly humiliated by a mere waitress. That she was standing with her bare, spanked butt, succulent bush, and breasts on display, her panties at her knees, and her face covered in cream pie. And everyone was laughing!

The waitress calculated that she just had time to inflict one more indignity on the little b*tch who had got her fired, and, unbeknownst to the squirming Stephanie, who was still blinded by the cream pie, she emptied a plate of spaghetti bolognaise into the pretty white panties that were fluttering at half-mast. Then she gave the defenceless, naked butt another hard slap, and headed for the exit, delighted to have exacted some revenge on this arrogant little brat.

The guard approached with her hacksaw, and began sawing at the handcuffs. Stephanie, furious and red-faced, the waitress's handprints glowing brightly on her lovely derriere, yelled at her above the laughter of the other guests.

'Never mind that just now, you moron, pull up my panties!'.

'But..but..'

'Just do it, you idiot! I can't stand here with my panties at my knees! Pull them up!'

By this time, the guard was happy to oblige, and, with one hard jerk, pulled the panties up high into her butt. It was at this point that Stephanie became aware that her undies had been filled with soggy spaghetti and hot bolognaise sauce. Since her poor behind had been chilled by the ice, it took a few seconds for the heat from the sauce to register.

'Yooooow! Oooooh! Ooooow! My ass!'

A cheer went up from the other guests as she hopped from foot to foot, sauce dripping out the leg-holes of her panties, long pieces of spaghetti poking out over her butt, wiggling her ass for all she was worth trying to cool her glowing ass cheeks, as the squishy tomato sauce plastered her behind. This was so degrading!

PART 20

At last the guard cut through the cuffs, and the fuming Stepanie wiped the pie from her face, grabbed a table-cloth and wrapped it around herself. Seething, she stomped to the exit, ordering the guard to hail a taxi for her, glaring at the laughing guests, particularly the other women who had so enjoyed seeing her being taken down a peg.

The furious Stephanie just wanted to get out the reception and get home to get cleaned up. She knew that the guard would be able to get a taxi easily, but she cringed as she noticed that Honest Hank was still out there, about to begin his pitch. But at least the camera was on the car, so she was spared the further humiliation of appearing on television wrapped in a table-cloth.

At high school and college, the spoiled Stephanie had paid little attention in Physics class - all she had been interested in was boys, clothes, boys, outdoing her classmates, and, of course, boys. Her understanding of the Laws of Cause and Effect consisted simply of 'Cause - Stephanie wants, Effect - Stephanie gets'. However, because she was stomping down the steps in such a bad-tempered fashion, this, combined with the extra weight of the bolognaise in her seat, had the effect of pulling her panties down her tomato-sauce soaked legs to her ankles. The effect of this was that she tripped on the panties at her feet as she made her way down the steps.

With a shriek, she was able to throw herself to the side, so that she landed on the disabled access ramp, instead of tumbling down the steps. But she lost hold of her table-cloth, and found herself rolling naked down the ramp, directly towards the cameraman.

He in turn was rooted to the spot as he saw this gorgeous, naked tumbling figure, a haze of long brown hair, pink nipples, and soft-bushed pussy, heading in his general direction. He had no time to take evasive action, and the rolling, yelping, stark-naked girl crashed into him. He lost his balance, knocked himself out on the side of his camera, and fell heavily across the prostrate, mortified Stephanie.

Having a rather good-looking male d****d across her naked body was usually Stepahanie's idea of a good time, but to be stuck naked in the middle of the street like this was extremely embarrassing. Then she noticed with horror that her predicament was even worse than that. The camera had finished up on the ground, almost between her knees, and was pointing directly between her legs.

'Oh no!', she wailed, as she caught a glimpse of her most precious asset in full, living colour, in close-up, on the monitor. Inside, the guests too gasped in astonishment as they saw what was being transmitted on the TV. The men were transfixed - the smirking females thought it most appropriate.

'Well, half the town's seen it already', said one, b*tchily. 'May as well all have a look'.

Stephanie, for once, struggled desperately to remove the man from on top of her, while Honest Hank, who was perfectly aware of what had happened, having a good view on the monitor of the juicy pink lips of Stephanie's succulent sex, decided to make the most of this turn of events.

'Well, isn't it a beauty?', he began, through the microphone, pretending to talk about the car.

'Every man wants to get his hands on one of these. This particular one was on display in my showroom window for 3 days, and men would come in just to gaze at it, get their photos taken with it - of course, what they really wanted to do was get inside and have a good ride!'.

Stephanie groaned in mortification as Hank heaped this verbal humiliation on top of all her other troubles. She tried again to get from under the cameraman, but only succeeded in jamming one of her feet underneath the car, which, to her further humiliation, resulted in her legs opening even wider, giving an even better view of the contours of her pussy.

'The dirty little b*tch', sniggered one of the other females in the hotel, as the full-beaver shot on the screen widened still further.

'That's what television needs', said another, 'New faces!'.

'It's surprisingly spacious', continued Hank, happily, 'and can accommodate up to four at a time. It handles beautifully. Of course, it takes a lot of filling up, and needs regular servicing, but keep it well lubricated, and it will give you hours of pleasure'.

PART 21

The writhing Stephanie could hear the laughter from the hotel, as she lay prostrate on the street. At last, Hank stopped his sales pitch, and the security guard helped the crimson-faced, absolutely furious Stephanie to her feet. She hurriedly wrapped herself in the table-cloth once more, and made for the taxi as quickly as possible.

Just before she got in, Hank walked over and pushed a twenty dollar bill down the front of the table-cloth, between her breasts.

'There's your twenty', he said, laughing.

Then he took another ten from his wallet and deposited it in a similar fashion.

'And here's another ten for droppin' you drawers. That was just great, honey'.

Glaring at the smiling Hank, and shaking with anger at the whole series of indignities she had been subjected to, Stephanie got into the taxi, slamming the door, steam almost coming out of her ears as she thought about how she had been so completely degraded, and how she had been denied a night of carnal pleasure with a beautiful, nubile celebrity. And all because of that b*tch, 'Glamour Girl'.

The next morning, Amanda Cox, aka 'Power Princess', shifted uneasily on her hard chair in the conference room of her large multi-national business empire. Her chief accountant was droning on about residuals and take-overs, and most of the other dozen or participants were gently dozing off. But the super-rich super-b*tch Amanda spent most of her time easing one butt cheek up off the chair, then the other, while plotting her revenge.

What would the men round the table have thought had they known that the beautiful, haughty ice-queen was also the celebrated superheroine ,'Power Princess'? Up until a few days ago, they would have been mightily impressed. But now, they would have been secretly delighted, since the whole world had seen poor Amanda/Power Princess sitting on a cactus in the middle of the street, in the full glare the country's media. And many of the men round the table would just love to have known that the wiggling, yelping superheroine was also their snooty, demanding CEO.

Amanda blushed slightly as she recalled the dreadful humiliation of having her gorgeous behind seated on that giant cactus - twice - then being taken back through the streets on the trolley, face-down, ass high in the air. Then being tricked into sitting on the sabotaged cushion she herself had prepared for Glamour Girl.

Of course, as CEO, she could have ordered a lovely soft cushion to sit on during the board meeting, but that would have required lengthy explanation and might have aroused suspicion. So here she was, enduring the torture of having to press her lovely twin orbs down on this hard seat.

How she longed to get some revenge on Glamour Girl. Of course, it wasn't just that no-talent little exhibitionist she was seething about. She was sure that PussyWhip was involved in their double humiliation somewhere down the line, since that b*tch's ambition seemed to be to degrade superheroines wherever she found them. And then, of course. there was Amanda's bratty little sister, Stephanie, who had publicly flirted with her fiancé. Indeed, hearing about the dreadful indignities heaped on the little brat the night before was the only good news she'd had for days.

As she continued to wince with each movement of her beautiful derriere, she contemplated these matters. Then her chief accountant looked astonished as he saw a broad smile cross the CEO's lovely lips. What was so amusing about straight-line depreciation, he wondered?

But Amanda's smile was due to something else entirely. She had suddenly put all the different pieces together into a plan that would get her some revenge against PussyWhip, Glamour Girl, and her obnoxious little sister. This was going to be very enjoyable indeed.

((As the text implies, there's a lot more to come...I will post as my schedule allows. Thanks again to SHAW for the great stories!!! Any errors or changes are mine--images are a lot of work, and I have to do them to my ability and my taste.))

Absolutely loving this so far- huge fan of both your work and Shaw's stories, and I'm excited to see how you illustrate what's to come.

Great story and great pictures.

Great work Myds!

Power Princess Plots Her Revenge - Part Three by SHAW
PART 22
PussyWhip, Lavinia and the Bionic Bimbo watched the telecast with increasing incredulity. Amanda Cox, looking elegant and sophisticated as ever, had called a special press conference in the grounds of her spectacular mansion.

'Last night', she said, 'an attempt was made to steal my favourite necklace, the centre-piece of which is the Riga Diamond, one of the most expensive jewels in the world'.

The pressmen gasped.

'Fortunately, that great public servant and indomitable fighter of evil, Power Princess was on hand, and surprised the thieves, who turned out to be none other that PussyWhip and her intellectually challenged cronies'.

'I don't remember that', said Lavinia.

'Of course you don't, bonehead', said PussyWhip impatiently. 'It never happened. What's more, as we know, Power Princess and Amanda Cox are one and the same person'.

(The Bionic Bimbo had established this weeks ago when she had hidden, invisible, in Amanda's bedroom, and saw her change into her costume before going on a mission. She had also stayed to see her shower when she returned, masturbating furiously as she watched, which earned her a good spanking from PussyWhip when she returned. With photographs).

'I wonder what this little b*tch is up to', said PussyWhip.

'Maybe I should hide in her bedroom again', volunteered the Bionic Bimbo, enthusiastically.

'Certainly not', retorted PussyWhip, a little jealous that her cohort found Amanda so hot.

'Did Power Princess retrieve that necklace?', asked one reporter.

'No - the thieves had thrown it away as she was chasing them round the grounds, so she had no evidence against them. However, I am very pleased to say that before she released them, the bent them over the ranch-fencing at that paddock over there, and gave them all a good spanking!'

'Wow!', gasped the press.

'WHAT!', yelled PussyWhip. 'Imagine her saying something like that'.

The Bionic Bimbo was already imagining being spanked by Amanda, and her face flushed as she thought about it.

'You should have seen them', continued Amanda, 'bawling like little babies, tights at their knees, bare-butts glowing red. It was great!'.

'So, the great PussyWhip has finally been given a taste of her own medicine?'

'Right. And long overdue', continued Amanda/Power Princess. 'She didn't look so cocky shuffling off with her tights round her ankles and her well-spanked butt shining bright in the moonlight!'

PussyWhip was furious.

'I don't know what she's up to', she said, seething, 'but she will be sorry'.

Amanda took a few more questions, smiling happily, knowing that PussyWhip would be watching. Of course, it wasn't as good as actually giving that b*tch the spanking she deserved, but knowing that the world would be snickering about it was good enough. And one day soon, she promised, she would make her lie a reality.

'So what happens now? Is Power Princess coming back to look for the necklace?'

'Power Princess, as you know, is a very busy girl, fighting evil where she finds it. She's off saving the universe as we speak. So, since I cannot get the best, I've had to settle for Glamour Girl. It is a bit of a come-down after having Power Princess to help, but I suppose she is better than nothing. Just'.

Glamour Girl, who was also watching, was already on her way, against the advice of her long-suffering P.A., Paula. Glamour Girl had started the day with a dreamy smile plastered all over her face as she relived again and again the ecstasy the night she spent with Venturi. But Amanda's broadcast had put her in her usual petulant, bad-tempered humour.

'Why that stuck-up cow! Better than nothing, eh! I'll show her!', fumed Glamour Girl, as her fleet of vans containing her outfits, hairdressers, doctors, advisors, dressers etc. sped to Amanda's mansion.

'I beg you to reconsider this', pleaded Paula. 'You just heard her. She has publicly insulted you. Tell her to wait till she can get her precious Power Princess to help her'.

'One', said Glamour Girl impatiently, 'just think what a triumph it will be when I find the necklace that smarty-pants Power Princess couldn't find. And think how I'll be able to rub snooty Amanda Cox's face in it when I do.

Two, as you know, I have a vast collection of new outfits to model. Think of the marketing potential - all that free publicity and exposure as Glamour Girl rides to the rescue, bedecked in her latest creations, in the stunning surroundings of that b*tch's grounds. It will be a triumph'.

Paula cringed as she heard her vain, self-regarding employer give vent to her massive ego.

'Well, I don't like it', finished Paula weakly. 'I don't think it's a good idea'.

'Well, thinking is not your strong suit, is it Paula?', said Glamour Girl b*tchily. 'After all, you thought that rescuing that cat from the tree was a good idea. And what happened? I got stripped, made to wear ridiculous rhumba panties by PussyWhip, got shot in the ass with a dart gun three times - BY A CAT! - then dumped in a barrel of tar! So, leave the thinking to me in future Paula - and just do as you are told, like a good little girl'.

Glamour Girl loved to demean her assistant like this, especially when there were others present, and Paula, blushing as the others laughed, decided to shut up, and console herself with memories of Glamour Girl's feline encounter.

Stephanie had woken that morning, on the plush bed she kept in her expensive bachelorette pad, with the unaccustomed sensation of being alone in bed. She fumed as she remembered how Glamour Girl had walked off with Amada Venturi, leaving her handcuffed to a railing.

She had tried to compensate the night before with her impressive array of vibrators, dildoes, fruit and vegetables, but she had been unable to satisfy herself. All she could think about was how Glamour Girl had stolen the starlet from under her nose, and hung her out to dry for that common waitress. Stripped! Spanked! Pussy broadcast to the entire town on television! Had she been a masochist, Stephanie could have spent weeks coming at the mere thought of it; but to the bratty, vain Stephanie, it was simply humiliating, and she had no idea how to go about getting even.

Just then, the phone rang. It was her dear, beloved elder sister, Amanda.

'How's your fiancé?', asked Stephanie, with feigned concern. 'I did not call to bandy words with you, Stephanie - or to gloat about your little mishap last night'.

'How did you know about that?' asked Stephanie, defensively.

'Oh - it got a little mention in the newspaper'.

'What!'.

'And the radio'

'What!!'.

'Oh - and the society correspondent on the TV news devoted a whole half hour to it. Poor Stephanie - hand-cuffed to some railings in your underwear while a waitress spanked you! And as for your little cameo in 'Honest Hank's' advert, the less said about that the better!'.

'Oh no!', wailed Stephanie, unaware that the whole town had spent the morning laughing at her.

'I felt so sorry for you, being humiliated like that!'

'I'll bet you did, you frigid b*tch! You just phoned to taunt me'.

'On the contrary, dear, I phoned to ask you if you wanted the chance to get even with Glamour Girl'.

'And why would you do anything for me?'

'Because I can't stand Glamour Girl, and I'd love to see her taken down a peg or two. She's a self-opinionated…'

'…big-titted…'

'…self-satisfied…'

'…fat-assed…'

'…little b*tch'.

The two paused for a moment. This was the first time they had agreed on anything for twenty years.

'Glamour Girl is coming out to my mansion to try to locate the Riga diamond. I found it myself this morning, but I thought it might be fun to have that b*tch running round my grounds looking for the paste fake that I've planted. And I thought that you could, how shall I put it, 'assist' her, make sure she falls into all the little traps I've set'.

Stephanie was delighted with this plan, but saw a way of getting even more out of it than revenge.

'And what are you willing to pay?', she asked, greedily. Money was always a prerequisite with Stephanie - she only got an allowance of six thousand a month, which, allowing for her extravagant life-style, did not go far.

'Oh, all right, if you do it you can have the use of one of my credit-cards for the afternoon. It has a two thousand limit on it'.

'Then I'll do it', said Stephanie smugly, thinking she had struck a great deal, unaware that Amanda had been relying on her spoiled sister's greed to complete her plan.

((More to come. Like always, it will be when I find time. But this next location, the Cox mansion, will be the setting for a long time, so once it looks good enough, the story images ought to flow faster.))

Amazing storie.....hmmm damnn

PART 23

When the Glamour Girl entourage arrived at the Amanda Cox mansion, the beautiful, vain, arrogant superheroine got out, dressed in a cream version of the outfit she had worn the night before. (The blue one had been ripped from her body by the amorous Amada Venturi, and was now hanging, in shreds, in Glamour Girl's wardrobe as a reminder of her passionate evening).

Like the blue cat-suit from the night before, the cream version clung sensually to every gorgeous curve and line of her fabulous body. The 'GG' logo across her chest and her skimpy briefs were in red, and so tight that the media men gazing so intently at her could just determine the outline of her wonderful pussy.

Delighted at the audible gasps from the gentlemen of the press at the her stunning appearance, Glamour Girl posed for photographs, flicking back her hair, pouting, and striking several very sexy poses, as the press started asking questions.

'Weren't you supposed to be protecting Amada Venturi as she prepares for her concert tonight?'

'The concert has been postponed. Amada is suffering from exhaustion', she replied, eyes brightening again as she recalled the starlet’s superhuman efforts to match her sexual appetites.

She then stood, arms akimbo, posing for some more photographs in the setting of Amanda's spectacular gardens. Suddenly, she was aware that the pressmen had started photographing someone else. She turned, angrily, to see Stephanie, also pouting and posing for the cameramen, wearing a yellow halter-top and extremely short yellow skirt that barely covered her skimpy panties. She was also carrying a large ice-cream, which she licked suggestively.

'Well, well, if it isn't Miss Cox'.

'I'm not interrupting, am I', asked Stephanie, sweetly, licking the ice-cream again sensually, quite aware that her scantily-clad entrance had made her the centre of attention.

'Not at all', said Glamour Girl, through gritted teeth. 'In fact, this is an ideal opportunity for me to apologise for that little mix-up last night. It was so unfortunate that you should have been left squirming in your underwear, helpless, when that nasty waitress decided to spank you, pie you, and fill your panties full of spaghetti bolognaise. That must have been soooo embarrassing for you'.

Stephanie blushed, as the pressmen sniggered.

'But one thing puzzles me about the advert you appeared in', added Glamour Girl. 'I thought it was supposed to be for a new, sporty model - looked to me more like a clapped-out old banger'.

Stephanie fought hard to restrain her anger.

'Apology accepted. No hard feelings. That's why I've come to help you find the Riga diamond necklace'.

'I don't need any help from you, thank-you', said Glamour Girl, insulted at the very suggestion. 'This is a job for a superheroine. You'll just be in the way'.

'Oh, but I'm very fit and supple', replied Stephanie.

Then, to a huge intake of breath from the slavering pressmen, Stephanie handed Glamour Girl the ice-cream, then raised her right leg, straight and high, holding her toe with her hand.

This revealed both her suppleness, and the crotch of her tiny yellow panties that just barely covered her hot, tight pussy. To her immense satisfaction, she could see every male eye glued to her crotch, every face flushed with excitement.

Balancing effortlessly on one leg, she turned slowly to ensure that everyone got a good view up her short yellow skirt, giving the fuming Glamour Girl a superior little smile as she did so. Both knew that this was definitely 'Round One' to Stephanie - Glamour Girl's thunder was well and truly stolen, and she was not happy about it at all. She threw the ice-cream down onto the grass angrily.

Then Glamour Girl noticed something. The waistband of Stephanie's panties comprised a length of lace tied in bows at either side of her smooth, supple hips. Stephanie had increasingly taken to wearing panties like these. It allowed amorous males quick and easy access, without having to tear her panties off - which, in Stephanie's case, had meant a considerable outlay on new underwear each week. It also looked very, very sexy.

'Your leg is not quite straight', said Glamour Girl, moving beside her, ostensibly to straighten the leg.

Stephanie imagined that Glamour Girl was hoping to make her lose her balance and she beamed another little smile of triumph as she continued to stand perfectly on the one leg. What Glamour Girl had really been doing, as she stood behind her bratty rival, was undoing the lacy bows on the side of her panties. As Stephanie lowered her leg, her sexy underwear fluttered to the ground at her feet. Glamour Girl quickly retrieved the panties, holding them behind her back.

'I'll bet you can't do that with your other leg, though', challenged Glamour Girl, trying to sound annoyed.

'Why? Can't you?', replied Stephanie, taking off her high heels in preparation for more demonstrations of her flexibility.

Then beaming again with imagined triumph, she raised her other leg, holding her toe with her other hand. Several of the photographers dropped their cameras, as their jaws hit the ground. Others snapped away furiously. The unsuspecting Stephanie was elated, thinking she was giving them a tantalising view of her underwear.

'Mmmmm', she thought. 'They're as hard as boards, and that fat-assed bimbo can do nothing about it!'

She turned again slowly, unaware of the perfect view she was giving of her carefully trimmed bush and succulent pink pussy lips. Glamour Girl had to fight hard to look annoyed, and not burst into laughter.

'Can you touch your toes?', asked Glamour Girl.

Stephanie, of course, could have faced the audience when she did this, but Glamour Girl knew that the little exhibitionist would not be able to resist turning round, and so she did. She parted her legs slightly, then bent slowly from the waist, imagining that these horny men were gazing at the seat of her wispy panties. Instead, she was mooning her gorgeous, bared behind at them, the furrow of her pussy exposed between her butt cheeks.

PART 24

'All right, but I'll bet you can't do 'the crab''.

All the photographers were thinking the same thought. 'Please let her say that she can! Please let her say that she can!'

This time she was careful to make sure that she was facing the men. With perfect grace, she bent slowly backwards, arching her back, till the palms of her hands were on the ground, her feet apart, unknowingly giving the spectators an extremely erotic full-beaver shot.

'I usually have to pay good money for this sort of thing' said one, as Stephanie continued to flaunt her lovely pussy to the entire world - again! She gyrated her hips sexily, unwittingly exposing more and more of her velvety sn*tch.

'Well, I'm sure you can't do the splits', said Glamour Girl, knowing full-well that she could.

With swan-like grace, and staring directly at the increasingly aroused males, the bratty little show-off slowly did the splits, sliding gently downwards, her legs opened as far as they could go.

'All these ballet lessons finally paid off', she thought as she slid ever further downwards, smiling serenely, hitching her skirt up a little as she descended, thinking she was flashing her panties at the astounded males.

One of the older photographers finally passed out at this point.

Stephanie surveyed the leering men, whom, she thought, were imagining what lay beneath, but who were actually being treated to the sight of a gorgeous young lady, doing the splits without any panties, her pussy lips spread as wide open as they could go.

'Anything else?', she asked, thinking she had been scoring big points against her rival.

'Just one more thing', said Glamour Girl. 'Would you like your panties back now?'.

Stephanie looked in horror as the laughing Glamour Girl held the skimpy yellow panties aloft. With a shriek of outrage and pure mortification, face burning red with embarrassment, she jumped to her feet, and the press men exploded with laughter.

'You b*tch!', she squealed, reddening even further as she recalled doing 'the crab'.

'Oh my god!', she wailed.

In the act of handing over the panties, Glamour Girl 'accidentally' dropped them to the ground, right on top of the cold, thawing ice-cream.

'Oops', she said. She bent down to retrieve the panties, making sure that she pushed them right down into the melting ice-cream first. The crotch and seat were now covered in cold, clammy, runny ice-cream, and the miserable Stephanie knew she had no choice but to put them on.

With anguished gasps and moans, as she felt the cold, clammy panties run down over her ass and pussy, she put them back on, squirming as she did so.

'Yuuughh!', she shuddered, as she stood freezing her ass off for the second time in twenty-four hours.
 
It was at this point that Amanda arrived on the scene.

Glamour Girl smiled, and exchanged pleasantries, at the same time itching to slap this b*tch on the face for what she had said during her press conference.

'I thought you might want some help, so I've asked Stephanie to assist you', said Amanda, patronisingly..

'I don't need any help, thank-you', replied Glamour Girl, tersely.

'Well, you never know - there might be a cat in one of these trees with a dart-gun', replied Amanda, laughing, delighted at the angry reaction on Glamour Girl's face.

'Now', continued Amanda, 'At one point, Power Princess chased them round that piece of waste-ground. They may have thrown the necklace into that mud-hole by these trees'.

Amanda and Glamour Girl walked over to the long grass beside a small wood. At the edge of the copse was a vile bog, full of thick, jet-black, revolting looking mud. The press men followed, as did Stephanie, walking uncomfortable in her ice-cream coated panties.

'An oil truck crashed into this a while back', lied Amanda. 'That's why it's so black. There's gallons of oil mixed into the mud'.

The truth was that Amanda had ordered her bewildered gardeners to pour oil into the mud-hole earlier in the day.

'I think I see a bit of metal sticking out of the mud on the other side', said Amanda.

Indeed, there was something metallic just under the surface.

PART 26

Brilliant white teeth smiling through the gorgeous red-lips, tight cream latex straining against every curve and muscle, bending forward seductively, Glamour Girl knew that she looked stunning. The photographers standing before her, getting ready to snap the exact moment when she retrieved the necklace would have readily agreed.

Unfortunately for Glamour Girl, the rather territorial, continually irascible, goat that inhabited the small wood behind her was not so impressed. Where a man standing behind her would have marvelled at the erotic contours of the superb bubble-butt sticking out so sexily behind her, the goat only saw a threat. With a malicious charge, the goat lowered his head and aimed for the perfectly presented derriere.

One second, the haughty Glamour Girl was posing in her spotless cream costume - the next she was letting out a howl of pain as the angry quadruped whacked her behind, sending her sprawling forward, face-down, into the deep, revolting mud.

Amanda, Stephanie, and Paula were jubilant as the yelping superheroine disappeared into the thick, black mud as the cameras clicked in unison. She lay, face down for a moment, squirming and squelching. Then, spluttering and wiping the goo from her face, she struggled to her feet, rubbing her sore behind as she did so, a satisfying contrast to the self-satisfied, bossy b*tch of a moment before.

Instead of presenting a stupendous picture of female pulchritude, resplendently clad in her dazzling cream outfit, she was now completely covered, from head to toe, in the oily, coal-black mud. Her hair was covered, her face was covered, her tits, her ass, her perfect legs, front and back, were all completely plastered with the vile, carefully prepared slime.

PART 27

Had her face not been so completely blackened, the snickering audience would have seen that she was incandescent with fury. This was (another) complete humiliation. Another ruined Glamour Girl outfit. Another degrading public indignity.

Paula and Amanda had to stifle their amusement, but Stephanie was now laughing out loud, long and hard, and pointing with great mirth and glee at her humiliated rival. After all the indignities she had endured at Glamour Girl's hands, this was brilliant, seeing the once immaculately-clad bimbo standing before her, generously coated, from head to toe, in thick, oily mud!

'Oh dear! You seem to have got a little muddy. What a shame!' she taunted, through her laughter.

Glamour Girl glared at her. Then, thinking to make the best of a bad job, she bad-temperedly fished out the 'necklace'. It was the iron end of a pitch-fork. This provoked even more laughter as she threw it back into the mud angrily.

'I'm sorry - I forgot to warn you about the goat', said Amanda, trying to sound sympathetic. 'Of course, Power Princess managed to evade the goat last night, and she also managed to keep out of the mud-pit, but then…you're not Power Princess.'

'Don't worry, Miss Cox', said Glamour Girl, barely able to conceal her seething rage. 'I will find your necklace. And you're right - I'm not Power Princess. I don't sit on cactuses'.

'Cacti', corrected Paula.

'Shut up!', snapped Glamour Girl, as she stepped out of the pit, like the creature from the Black Lagoon. 'And don't just stand there, get me cleaned up, you idiot!'

The long-suffering P.A. escorted her dripping, furious, employer away, the loud and prolonged laughter from Stephanie still ringing in her ears.

'I'll fix that little b*tch!', she hissed.

((More to come soon))

Power Princess Plots Her Revenge – by SHAW

PART 28

Not since the incident with the cat had Glamour Girls entourage enjoyed anything so much. The beauticians set to work, washing and scrubbing, shampooing and rinsing, slowly but surely removing the mud and oil from every nook and cranny, restoring her to her gorgeous, sublimely sexy, infinitely self-important self.

When the time came to dress, Paula brought her a red version of the new superheroine uniform.

'I'm not wearing that', snapped Glamour Girl petulantly. 'Didn't you see how that little sl*t upstaged me earlier? Fetch me the 'Glamour Girl Summer Party Man-Magnet'!'.

'But Glamour Girl', said Paul, 'that's not appropriate attire when you're on a mission'.

'It is, if my mission is to show the world that I have a hotter bod than Stephanie Cox has.'

'The Man-Magnet' was a very short dress with an almost obscenely plunging neckline. Glamour Girl reasoned that her legs and ass were every bit as good as Stephanie's, and that she had the flat-chested little b*tch beaten hands down in the tit department.

'Glamour Girl, I really don't think…'.

'I warned today already about thinking too much. What do you suggest I wear, Paula? A frumpy old-maid's skirt like the one you're wearing?'.

Glamour Girl smiled as she saw Paula blush bright red at this public put-down. Paula's white skirt was almost calf-length. The outwardly demure, though very pretty Paula always covered herself up well, in contrast to her employer.

'Now fetch me the 'Man-Magnet' this instant, and the briefest pair of white silk panties I have. Think you can manage that, Miss Frump?'

Paula stormed off to do as she was bid, as Glamour Girl laughed happily. Her entourage felt obliged to laugh along too, all the while thinking, beneath their fixed smiles, 'God, what a complete b*tch!'.

When she emerged from her luxurious trailer, Glamour Girl was delighted to see that the 'Man Magnet' had an immediate effect. Her beautiful long legs were excitingly displayed ten inches above the knee, and the superb Glamour Girl breasts were only just restrained by the low-cut top. Posing happily once more, leaning forward to give the maximum view of her tits, she instantly put her undignified dunking in the mud to the back of her mind, reveling in all this attention once more.

She was also delighted to see that Stephanie had changed into a much less revealing outfit. After the younger Cox sister had finished laughing at Glamour Girl's predicament, she realised that she had to change out of her mud-spattered dress and ice-cream covered panties. Her dear sister had been happy to offer her a change of clothes - an old ball-gown that had been destined for a charity shop. It was a long, white, elegant creation that looked distinctly incongruous in the middle of the day.

'Now girls' said Amanda, 'PussyWhip and her bungling buddies tried to hide on top of the summer house for while. Power Princess soon chased them down, of course, but they may have had time to hide the necklace while they were up there'.

The summer-house was a huge wooden construction that was having repairs done to the roof.

'How are we supposed to get up there', asked Stephanie, noticing the absence of a ladder.

'Well, there was a ladder, but PussyWhip and her partners in crime hauled it on to the roof, to try and stop Power Princess getting to them. Of course, Power Princess just climbed up, elegantly and quickly, and threw them off the roof, on to their fat asses'.

Amanda was really enjoying embelishing the story of how she, Power Princess, had humiliated PussyWhip.

'But I've instructed one of the gardeners to attach a rope to his tractor, and throw it over the summer house roof. He'll haul you up'.

Amanda beamed happily as she saw her bratty younger sister's face drop. This was not going to be very dignified! Hauled up to the roof, clinging to a rope, in an evening dress! But Amanda had told her that there were plenty of little traps she could set for Glamour Girl on the roof, and that it was important that Stephanie get up there first. And Stephanie still felt that she had a score to settle with Glamour Girl, despite the enjoyable incident at the mud-pit.

'All right…I'll go first', she said, reluctantly. As Stephanie started to walk to the summer house, Glamour Girl was assessing the situation. There were actually two ropes hanging from the side of the roof, both with hooks at the end. One was presumably used by the workers to haul up materials. She suddenly had a brilliant, and typically catty idea.

As Stephanie passed, the long train of the evening gown trailing on the ground behind her, Glamour Girl stood on the material of the train. One moment, Stephanie was elegantly walking across the grass; the next, there was a loud rip, the dress tore cleanly at the waist, and the shrieking Stephanie was standing, humiliated and embarrassed, in a very full cut pair of pink, lacy panties that her sister had lent her. Her prissy sister always bought conservative underwear, and this further increased poor Stephanie's embarrassment. This was not doing her image as a daring, sexy, modern young female any good at all.

'Ooops…sorry', said Glamour Girl unconvincingly. 'Good of your grandma to lend you some panties though'.

Stephanie could only fume at this latest indignity, and walked on, looking even more ridiculous than before - her top half clad in the remnants of the elegant ball-gown, her bottom half reduced to the humiliating pink panties. Why did they have to be pink, and lacy, and cover so much of her stomach and thighs!

Glamour Girl handed her one of the ropes. Stephanie removed her shoes and held on tight.

'Ready?' she called to the gardener, who had started his tractor.

As Stephanie stood indignantly, plotting her revenge on that smirking b*tch, Glamour Girl walked behind her and put the second part of her plan into operation. Just as the tractor started to move forward, she picked up the real rope, and attached the hook to the waistband of the pink panties.

Stephanie was about to look round to see what her rival was up to when she felt a sudden tug on her behind and between her legs. The next thing she knew, she was air-borne. With a shriek, she began to rise into the air, hauled up by the seat of her panties. Instantly the material jammed into her butt cheeks and pussy lips, and the lovely, spoiled, bratty Stephanie was three feet in the air, hanging by her panties.

'Yeeeow! Help! No! Stop! Please! You b*tch! Oow!'.

This was soooo humiliating. She was in mid-air, kicking her legs furiously, yelling and swearing and groaning in agony at the horrendous wedgie she was enduring. She looked, and felt, totally ridiculous, swinging to and fro, still stupidly holding on to the other rope, with her panty waistband now half-way up her back, her whole weight supported by the chaffing panties between her legs.

'Get me down! Oooow!'

'Down!', shouted Glamour Girl as soon as she was satisfied that the outraged, helpless, panty-suspended Stephanie was directly over a large bush of green, fresh, spiky holly that went round the front and side of the summer house.

Stephanie initially felt relieved as she began her descent. But looking down, between her wildly kicking legs, she could she the holly bush pointing directly at her poor exposed, wedgied rump.

'Nooo! Stop! Noooo!', she yelled again, as the realisation that the rope that had lifted her by her panties was closer to the front of the house than the one Glamour Girl had handed her. The result was that she had swung as she was lifted, and the understanding that she would soon be seated on a large bush of holly dawned on her. Glamour Girl, of course, would have ignored her protests anyway, but in truth, the bratty Stephanie could hardly be heard above the uproarious laughter of the spectators. The sight of the obnoxious little show-off, swinging by her pink panties, her luscious butt-cheeks inches from a painful rendezvous with the holly bush was hilarious.

'Nooo! Up! Up! Yeeeeeooooowwwwww!'.

The upside for Stephanie was that at least her entire weight was no longer being supported by her panties. The downside was that this was entirely because the superbly rounded globes of her butt were pressing down hard on the holly. Every inch of her beautiful ass was being spiked by the jaggy, prickly bush.

'Oooow! Yeeow! My ass! Get me up! Ooooooh!'.

The fact that no-one was enjoying this more than Glamour Girl and her insufferable elder sister greatly heightened poor Stephanie's misery. Ever since she had gone up against Glamour Girl, she had suffered one dreadful indignity after another. And this was certainly the most painful - a holly cushion!

'Up! Up! Pleeease! My ass! Ooooooh!'

Glamour Girl eventually relented and signalled the gardener to drive forward again. Stephanie's relief at not having to sit on holly any more was immediately tempered by the indignity and the pain of having to endure the flying wedgie once again. Slowly, she inched up, her panties once again stuffed between her legs, her panty waistband once more pulled up over her back, her legs kicking helplessly in mid-air, half a dozen holly leaves stuck to her lovely derriere.

'Sorry', said Glamour Girl. 'I thought you liked to feel pricks on your ass!'

'You b*tch…I'll get you for this', shouted Stephanie, swinging impotently by her underwear once more, ascending slowly, and ridiculously toward the roof, her painful derriere throbbing from the holly jags.

'Good job they made panties so strong in your grandma's day', laughed Glamour Girl, hugely enjoying here revenge. What a totally humiliating ordeal she was putting the bratty Stepahnie through!

'Just you wait', she added, shaking her fist, aware that it was difficult to sound too threatening when you were suspended in the air in public by a pair of lacy, pink panties, having just been dunked into a pot of holly.

All she could do now was look forward to getting on to the roof and preparing some painful and humiliating booby-traps for the snickering, fat-assed bimbo below her.

((This gets better and better soon.))

PART 29

Inch by inch the panty-suspended Stephanie was hauled up to the wooden roof of the summer-house, squirming and chaffing from the painful, degrading wedgie as she looked down on the mocking audience. Eventually she reached the top and was dragged in a most undignified fashion across the wooden roof by the waist-band of her panties, before the tractor driver finally came to a halt.

She winced once more as she realised that she was seated on the end of a claw-hammer that was lying on the roof-top. Furiously, she eased her sore butt up, retrieved the hammer, and flung it to one side. The hammer hit a roll of roofing felt that was standing precariously on its end. The felt fell over against a plank of wood that was resting on two wooden trestles, knocking over a large, black plastic bucket that was on the edge of the plank. The workmen used the bucket to wash their tools, and it was half-full of cold, dirty water.

Stephanie, still seated, seething on the roof, her panties still stretched out behind her, watched helplessly as this chain of events passed, almost in slow motion, at her side.

She only had time to emit a horrified 'Oh no!', as the bucket tipped over and landed on her head. The next moment, she gasped, then froze, as the cold, dirty water cascaded over her head, over her tits, stiffening her nipples, then splashed spectacularly over her stomach and the front of her panties.

'Nooooo!', she yelled, in a tantrum, beating the roof with her fists in sheer frustration and humiliation, her beautiful head hidden by the black, plastic bucket. It was just one thing after another!

She pulled the bucket off her head, and wiped the disgusting water from her face. She was soaked through, and sitting in a dirty puddle of water. Unbeknownst to Stephanie, events were unfolding behind her that would heap yet another indignity on her.

The workmen had been told hurriedly to get off the roof when Amanda had first conceived her plan. One of the men, a disgusting slob called Bob, had just opened a tin of baked beans to have for his lunch. Bob the Slob was not known for his culinary expertise.

The opened tin had been left sitting beside the black bucket, and had now tipped over on it's side. The unsuspecting Stephanie, her panties pulled out far behind her, did not realise that a steady stream of cold baked beans in a thick tomato sauce was now trickling down into the back of her full-cut pink panties, stretched out so invitingly behind her.

Still fuming from her soaking, she reached behind and removed the hook from her panties. Slowly, she got to her feet, and began to unpick the painful wedgie. It was at this point, as she rearranged her big panties over her butt, that she became aware of the cold beans slithering over her rear-end, plastering her pantied-seat, some of the sauce and beans sliding all the way down between her legs.

'What the…'. Then she noticed the tin of beans lying on its side.

'Yuuuck!', she exclaimed, squirming in her uncomfortable, ruined panties, grimacing miserably as the beans continued to slowly travel down her butt-cheeks.

'That b*tch is SO for it', she muttered. The only thing that was going to make this all worthwhile was the chance to humiliate the snickering Glamour Girl as she tried to get on to the roof. She threw the rope back over the edge, and began to plan what she might do to the sexy superheroine.

Power Princess Plots Her Revenge – by SHAW

PART 30
Down below, Glamour Girl was assessing the situation. She wished now that she had listened to Paula and put on something more suited to the task. She was well aware that all the men were dying to see her hoisted upwards, wearing the scanty ‘Man Magnet’. It would not be terribly dignified.
Paula read her thought exactly, and could not resist the chance to say ‘I told you so’.
‘Well I did try to warn you, but, oh no, you wouldn’t listen to me. Now you’ll be flashing your panties to the whole world, hanging from a rope.’
‘You are quite right’, said Glamour Girl, sweetly. Paula nearly fell down on the spot. In all her years of working with this snooty little cow, she had never once heard her admit she was wrong.
‘Yes’, continued Glamour Girl, ‘dignity is very important for my image. A role model such as myself should not have to endure such a degrading ordeal, and you did warn me’.
‘Well…nice of you to admit it’.
‘What else was it you said? That I should wear something more conservative.’
‘Yes’.
‘Something a bit less showy’.
‘Exactly’
‘Something like the long, frumpy dress you have on now’.
‘Correct. I did tell you, but…’
Paula stopped in mid-sentence at the still sweetly smiling Glamour Girl, and finally realised the trap she had just walked into.
‘Then hand over your dress please. I’ll simply slip it on over the ‘Man Magnet’. Problem solved’.
Paula turned with resignation and started to walk to Glamour Girl’s trailer.
‘Where are you going?’, asked Glamour Girl.
‘To the trailer to change’.
‘Haven’t got time. Just give me the dress now’.
‘But…but…I can’t stand here in my underwear!’
Paula blushed at the very thought, and Glamour Girl smiled wickedly, really enjoying watching her prim and proper P.A.squirm.
‘You can if you want to keep your job’.
‘But…but…’
‘We just agreed – MY dignity is all-important. Who cares about yours? So hand it over’.
‘Please, Glamour Girl…’
‘NOW!’, yelled Glamour Girl, b*tchily.
Blushing furiously, Paula undid the zip of her long dress, stepped out of it and handed it to Glamour Girl. Amidst gasps, wolf-whistles and laughter it was immediately obvious why Paula had been quite so reluctant to part with her skirt. Standing in the middle of Amanda Cox’s garden in front of so many people in her bra and panties would have been bad enough, but it was the prissy Paula’s choice of underwear that caused the most gasps.
Even Glamour Girl was initially taken aback, then laughed uproariously at her P.A.’s predicament. Paula was wearing a scanty, red bra, garter belt, black stockings, and very brief, scarlet, satin panties. On the front of the panties, in white, were embroidered the words, ‘Hot, Wet and Horny’.
Paula just wanted to die from shame at being exposed like this, and tried to cover herself as best she could.
‘Hot, Wet and Horny!’, laughed Glamour Girl, delightedly, adding to Paula’s embarrassment. ‘Who would have thought that there was a rampant little sl*t beneath that frumpy exterior!’
Paula’s face was bright red by now, as she pressed her knees together and put a hand over her ass and pussy, squirming with mortification. She did not normally wear such risque underwear, but was going on a hot date that evening and had wanted to be prepared. Glamour Girl was revelling in her predicament, but also made a mental note to find out where Paula had bought such scandalous panties.
Glamour Girl put Paula’s skirt on over the ‘Man Magnet’, as Paula pleaded with her to allow her to restore some dignity.
‘Glamour Girl, can’t I go to the trailer now and borrow something of yours to wear?’
‘Certainly not’, said Glamour Girl, predictably. ‘I need you here. Anyway, I don’t want your fat ass getting my good clothes all out of shape’.
The cowering, glowering Paula came as close as she had ever done to resigning her post by slapping the obnoxious cow on the face. But she didn’t. She thought of her salary. She thought of her dignity. And she was also worried that Glamour Girl would retaliate by giving her a spanking, there and then, in front of everybody.
Both Paula and Stephanie were now looking forward to seeing Glamour Girl being hoisted up by the rope. There was great potential there for some revenge. But Glamour Girl deflated all of their hopes by doing something totally unexpected. Modestly attired now in Paula’s skirt, the athletic bimbo pulled herself up on to the summer house railings, grabbed one of the angle beams supporting the roof, and with consumate skill and grace, swung herself up on to the top of the roof, with barely a flash of her ankles, never mind her panties.
Some grudging applause went up from the spectators as she stood triumphantly above them. Stephanie stood miserably beside her, plans for revenge ruined.