PART 34
‘You all right Glamour Girl? Tell me what you want me to do’, shouted Paula.
‘All I want you to do right now, you empty-headed bozo is to SHUT..THE..HELL..UP!’, thundered Glamour Girl, taking her wrath out on the sniggering Paula.
‘Up!’, shouted Paula.
The small tractor engine roared into life once more, and the completely degraded superheroine let out a yell of ‘No!’ as she felt herself being pulled up once more. Almost immediately, she felt her panties being pulled painfully and humiliatingly deep into her pussy and her ass. Her panties were being stretched to breaking point as the tractor inched forward inexorably, the wedgie becoming more and more severe, the panties being pulled further and further at the back, Glamour Girls pussy lips (now also an enchanting shade of blue) clearly visible at either side of the tightly pulled silk.
Something had to give, and inevitably it was the flimsy, paint-saturated panties that eventually ripped at the back. Glamour Girl’s relief at being released from the painful and humiliating wedgie was tempered by the realisation that her velvety pussy and beautiful butt were once more on display.
Gradually, she was hauled, pantyless and paint-splattered, back on to the roof, itching to get her hands on her tormentress. Just as her naked butt was pulled on to the roof, she saw Stephanie smiling wickedly, with a small tin of roofing tacks in her hands.
There were absolutely no prizes for guessing what she was planning to do with them.
‘No!’, cried Glamour Girl as she was pulled slowly on her butt across the wooden roof, and Stephanie happily scattered the roof tacks liberally just in front of the lovely, swelling ass-cheeks.
‘b*tch!’, shouted Glamour Girl again. She knew this little brat would show no mercy. After all, Glamour Girl had stripped her at the hotel, stolen her love interest, and left her trussed-up like a turkey for the angry waitress. Then she’d tricked her into performing erotic gymnastic exercises minus her underwear, then had her hauled up by her panties on to this roof. There was no way that Stephanie was going to be denied the pleasure of seeing the haughty, b*tchy Glamour Girl dragged on her naked derriere through a trail of roofing tacks.
‘Stop!’, cried Glamour Girl desperately, hoping the tractor driver would hear her. ‘Stop! Yeeeooow! Stop the…yeeeoouch! Owwwww! Yeeeeoow!’
Glamour Girl’s snooty face, black with paint, winced with pain as her poor behind was dragged through the tacks. Each gorgeous, well-rounded butt-cheek was being painfully pricked as Stephanie extracted her humiliating revenge, laughing triumphantly as her rival squirmed, squealed and wiggled in pain and outrage. To add the final indignity, Stephanie took hold of the back of ‘The Man Magnet’, and the flimsy dress was ripped from Glamour Girl’s back, finally liberating her large, swelling breats.
‘Yieeee! Stop! Ooooooh! b*tch! Oooow!’.
Though Paula could not see what was happening, like everyone else, she was enjoying listening to her vain, egotistical employer get her long-overdue comeuppance. However, she felt obliged at last to call out to the driver to stop.
Glamour Girl jumped to her feet, and began the painful, undignified process of removing the tacks from her butt. Stark naked, covered in blue and black paint, her poor behind peppered with roofing tacks, the sultry, sexy young superheroine and model was bristling with indignation. No one treated Glamour Girl like this!
‘Ooohh!’, she winced as another tack was extracted from her sumptuous hind-quarters. ‘Just you wait!’.
But Stephanie had no notion of doing anything of the kind. Amanda had ordered one of her workmen to put a ladder up at the far end of the summerhouse, and Stephanie, oblivious now to her own ridiculous appearance, and the soggy beans in her pink-pantied seat, scampered down quickly as Glamour Girl untied the rope from her ankles.
She was stark naked, and thought twice about chasing the little b*tch. On the other hand, everyone had seen her pussy by now, and she was too outraged and dying for revenge to care too much. And the fact that her pussy was now painted a bright blue at least gave her a little cover.
She ran to the ladder, and got on to the top rung. Immediately, she felt it begin to move. Underneath, Stephanie was pushing the bottom of the ladder, so that it was soon fully upright, the edge of the summer house now some distance away from the degraded damsel at the top.
‘You b*tch! Stop that at once. Put the ladder back! Do you hear me!’.
‘Bye, bye Supersl*t’, yelled Stephanie happily as she pushed the ladder over further.
With a loud cry of ‘Nooooooo!’, and hanging on for dear life, Glamour Girl felt herself begin to fall.
At the far end of the garden, near the summer house, lived Mr. Entwhistle, Amanda Cox’s handyman. He and his family had their own little house and garden carved into the magnificent Cox estate. A small wooden fence had been erected round their garden, less to give them privacy than to save Amanda from having to gaze at the lower orders any more than she had to.
It was young Johnny Entwhislte’s thirteenth birthday, and Mr. Entwhisle, and little Johhny sat at the picnic table beside the fence as the homely, 300-pound Mrs Entwhistle proudly put the birthday cake on the table.
‘Now, you must make a wish, Johnny’, she said.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, out of the heavens, ass-first on to his cake, dropped a gorgeous, sexy, naked young lady.
‘That’s not a bike’, he thought. ‘I asked for something to ride’.
Mr. Entwhistle, meanwhile, received a sharp clip on the ear from his wife, assuming he’d made a wish too.
The winded Glamour Girl meanwhile was squirming ass-first in the large, creamy cake. The falling ladder had knocked down a section of the fence, so that her mortification was increased by the fact that everyone – the press, Paula, Amanda and the triumphant Stephanie - could witness this latest assault on her dignity, sitting naked in a cream gateau, her face and hair black with paint, her blue-painted tits heaving, her face bright red.
Glamour Girl got off the table, unsteadily, blue ass and pussy now plastered with cake (‘I’ll have that piece’, thought Mr. Entwhistle).
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