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.
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