Superhero fiction by Shaw

[CaptainKen]

Great work Myds!

[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.))

[Perduka46]

Amazing storie.....hmmm damnn

[Myds]

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.

[Myds]

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.

[Myds]

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.

[Myds]

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))

[Myds]

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.))

[Myds]

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.

[Myds]

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.