It was a task she had put off for 6 months, but it was now time to finally face it once and for all. Her mother had passed away, the memory of her death still fairly fresh in her mind, but not so much so that it was painful to conjure up memories of her life. After all she had lived to the ripe old age of 85. And despite the fact that her husband had passed when she was only 50, almost all of those 87 years were happy and healthy ones. She had gone peacefully, with no regrets, making the task at hand much easier for her daughter to deal with. So Josephine (her friends call her Babe), herself 60, only hoped to get as much out of her golden years as her mother did.
With the mourning period over, it was finally time for Babe to go through her mothers' things, clean out the old house she had lived in and put it up for sale once and for all. That was not something she looked forward to doing, but it was time to get it over with, once and for all. The big, old, house had been in her family for three generations, so the attic was a virtual family tree of memories. And though Babe had moved out once she was married, many years ago, the house still had a very familiar feeling. So as Babe sat in the attic, going through box after box containing a lifetime full of memories, she reflected on her own life.
Shifting through a box full of old photos, she came across her own wedding album, which she had given to her mother for safekeeping many years earlier. A smile stretched across her lips as she gazed at the pictures of her late husband Al, who had passed 15 years ago, oddly enough at the same age as her own father. But the pain from his premature death had mostly dissolved by now, leaving Babe with a heart full of fond memories of their life together.
Next she came upon her daughter Stephanie's baby pictures. Stephanie was Babe and Al's only child, and as Babe stared at the pictures of her, she couldn't help but think about how sweet and innocent she looked. She had the darkest, thickest head of black hair anyone had ever seen. Babe's thoughts then switched to Stephanie's daughter, her granddaughter. Unfortunately though, they had moved away years ago, much too far for her to see them regularly. Again Babe's thoughts began to wander, but the happiness of recalling all of those wonderful memories was soon replaced with the realization of her own, now lonely life.
She had always had someone to care for, all of her life, and she had thrived on that. Her husband relied on her for everything, and his sudden death had put her and her daughter in a precarious situation. Without much money in the bank and little education, Babe was forced to take a night waitressing job in order to pay the bills and support her daughter. It was hard, thankless work, but she didn't mind. And when her daughter finally graduated from college, got married and moved away, it appeared that she might finally get to take a break. But then her aging mother needed help, both physically and financially, forcing her to keep the job. But Babe never complained. In fact, she loved it. It gave her a feeling of self worth and kept her too busy to think about the unfairness of it all. Babe loved caring for people, protecting them, nurturing them, and though many of these events were tragic, they nonetheless gave her the opportunity to provide for those she loved.
But as she sat on the floor of her late mother's attic, she realized that everyone she had cared for was now gone and for the first time in her life, she was left all alone. What would she do with herself now? How would she fill her days? How was she going to fill the sudden void in her life? For the first time she was faced with the reality of being all-alone, and that scared her to death.
Trying not to think about it, she continued to sort through the boxes, sorting everything into the appropriate place. It had taken her all day, but the attic was finally empty, a monumental task accomplished. She slowly got to her feet, but as she turned to pull the cord on the light fixture to end the task, she noticed a small door in the back corner of the attic. It was a small room, nestled in the back corner and out of sight. She had never seen it before, perhaps because it had always been hidden by the clutter. But there it was, plain as day. Babe walked over cautiously, not sure what to expect. Reaching the odd shaped door, she paused for a moment to take a deep breath, and then pulled it open.
The door creaked loudly, as if it hadn't been open for 30 years. The small room was very dark, the exposed beams from the dormers creating interesting rooflines but very little walking space. Babe reached forward blindly, her shin crashing into a heavy object as she moaned out loud in pain, lifting her wounded leg in the air and rubbing it. Eventually she continued to walk forward though while reaching in front of her until finally feeling a piece of string and pulling it. Amazingly, a lightbulb lit, illuminating the room for the first time in decades.
Babe stood up, astonished at what she saw. Hanging against the back wall, next to a cute little dressing table, was a red, white and blue bikini. Next to it hung a blue mask, the eye cut outs in the shape of stars and outlined in white. Lying on the floor below the outfit was a pair of high heeled, knee high; red and white striped boots, the letters "AA" written up the side of each. And finally a pair of elbow length, fingerless red and white striped gloves. All of the pieces obviously composed some sort of sexy costume, though Babe had no idea where it had came from or whom it had belonged to.
She stared at it in amazement, but even though shocked at her discovery, a strange feeling of familiarity seem to come over her as she moved closer to it. Though she had never seen this outfit before, or knew anything about it, some psychic force seemed to convince her to try it on. She stood with the skimpy garments in her hands for awhile more, but then began to slowly strip her clothes off. It was if she were in a trance, not fully aware of what she was doing as she began to put the bikini on. She slipped it onto her thin frame before pulling the boots onto her feet and the gloves onto her arms. It was almost like an out of body experience, that is until she turned to see a full length mirror on the opposite wall. She was drawn to it, walking forward in a stupor towards the mirror, though not aware that she was. As she moved closer however, her forehead struck a low beam which framed the ceiling, knocking her back a step or two. The blow hurt, but also acted to shake her from the semi-conscious state. As she shook her head, coming to her senses, she looked straight ahead, directly into the mirror. She was completely stunned by the woman looking back at her.
Though 60 years old, her thin frame was still in good shape. All of those years of hard work had allowed her body to age fairly gracefully. In fact, she still wore the same dress size she had on her wedding day, a size eight. And it was a good thing too, because this was not a conservatively cut bikini. The bikini's bottom was a thong, leaving her ass completely exposed while covering little more than the essentials in front. Her chest, a 34-inch, B cup, fit perfectly into the bikini's underwire top, which obligingly lifted what gravity would no longer assist with. The boots had four-inch heels, which helped to curve and firm her ass. Babe gawked at the reflection in the mirror, but once over the initial shock of seeing herself so sparsely attired, she actually began to feel sexy. After all it had been 15 years since her husband had passed away, and 20 since she had slept with a man. In fact, she had virtually forgotten how it felt to be sexy... at least until just a few minutes ago when she slipped into this little outfit.
She twirled in front of the mirror like a schoolgirl trying on her prom dress before grabbing her bare ass with both hands, swiveling her hips in a sexy, grinding motion. She then raised her arms over her head and shook her hips some more before lowering her hands and cupping them beneath her newly, erect and pert tits. She couldn't believe how great she looked! But as Babe giggled and pranced in front of the mirror, her eyes soon met their reflection, and the 60 year old woman stared intently into them. Though her body had been refined and even revitalized by the bikini, her face still showed her age.
Slowly she stopped her gyrations, instead fixing her eyes upon her own, mildly wrinkled face. Though still an attractive woman, the years had been less kind to her kisser than they had been to her body. Her face had become somewhat weathered, the skin around her eyes showing the toll her past heartbreaks had taken upon her. Babe's silly smile slowly began to fade, but out of the corner of her eye she noticed the last piece of the costume which still hung from the opposite wall and would be the answer to the problem.
The blue mask with the white, starry eye cut outs seemed to be calling her name. Excited, she quickly turned and reached for it, but in her haste, again her head struck the same beam it had before, this time knocking her to the floor. Stars seemed to circle around her head as Babe sat clumsily on the cold, hard floor, once again knocked senseless. It took her a couple of minutes to regain her senses, but once she did, she slowly got to her feet, reaching for the mask. She grabbed it and slowly turned to face the mirror, still dizzied from the second blow to her head. But she was determined to complete the outfit and as she stared at herself in the mirror, she pulled the mask up to her face and tied it in back of her head.
Eerily the pain and dizziness immediately vanished once she put the mask on, replaced with an incredible, energetic strength. She had never felt so revitalized, so robust, so ready to take on the world. As she again stared at herself in the mirror, she was amazed at the transformation which had just taken place. A vibrant, sexy, costumed heroine had now replaced the tired, old women of just a few minutes ago. But she was soon to find out that the costume was more than just a sexy garment, it was an important piece of her family history.
Curious, she opened one of the drawers in the small dressing table which stood just below the mirror. She was amazed to see it filled with newspaper clippings, all of which had long ago yellowed with age. Pulling the stack out of the drawer, she began to flip through it. She came across article after article which described the heroic exploits of a super heroine named The American Angel. Reading each one, she eventually came across the heroine's picture, and sure enough, it was a woman wearing the exact same outfit which Babe was now wearing. But as she studied the picture, she couldn't help but feel that she knew the woman behind the mask, though she was not able to determine who it was.
Babe continued to plow through the countless articles, reading each one in it's entirety. Finally, after reaching the bottom of the drawer, she came across an envelope. A chill ran down her spine as she pulled it out of the drawer and noticed that it had some written on the front of it. Holding it closer, she recognized the handwriting immediately as being that of her mother. Already startled, she was completely blown away to see her own name written on the front; "To Josephine". Nervously, Babe opened the envelope, her hands shaking with the tension which gripped her half-naked body. She began to read the letter, her eyes as wide open as they could possibly be;
"My dearest Josephine,
If you are reading this, then I have moved onto a better place. But please don't be sad, my life was joyful and complete. And aside from the joy I received from my family during my lifetime, perhaps my biggest source of fulfillment was due to what you are about to discover yourself.
Undoubtedly you are now sitting in the attic wearing the America Angel costume and have already read the articles of her exploits. And I hope you are sitting, because the American Angel is now you. That's right, the heroic woman who was praised in every article you saw.... Is now you. Let me explain.
The history of the America Angel dates back many generations. There are many theories as to her origin, but I'll leave that for another time. What is important for you to know is that the women in our family were chosen for this role, and it is a role which must be taken seriously.
You see, I was the American Angel, and before me, my mother was the American Angel, and before her, her mother was the American Angel. Each of us inherited this role from the other, and carried it into the new generation. And so now it is your turn. _ Along with this role come awesome powers, as well as awesome responsibilities. First let me explain the powers, which you will, I am sure, soon verify for yourself. First, the powers are all granted only by wearing the entire American Angel costume. Should you for some reason not wear any piece of the outfit, all of your powers will fade. So make sure you keep the entire costume on at all times._
The powers you have while wearing the costume include the ability to fly at great speed, superior strength, invincibility to pain and telepathic capabilities. These powers are a gift from a higher source and should be treated with the utmost respect. If abused, they will be quickly taken away. But don't worry, I am sure you will admirably carry on the tradition of this great, American heroine.
The purpose of these powers, and as such, the purpose of The Americana Angel is stated clearly in The American Angel's credo, which is, "to rid the world from the forces of evil forces, especially The Marquis and his wife Justine, who's sole mission is to demoralize the inhabitants of the world which in turn will lead to it's ultimate demise."
Let me warn you, The Marquis is cruel, depraved being, and he is very powerful. Unlike The American Angel, who is a mortal woman transformed into a superheroine, The Marquis and Justine are eternal creatures. The American Angel has been passed in our family for a number of generations, therefore each generation has had it's own strengths and weaknesses, but then passed on and left the legacy for the next one to assume. But the Marquis and Justine have lived throughout this time, and therefore know us all. So be careful.
I will find a way to let you know more about The Marquis and Justine in the time ahead, but as you read this and wear The American Angel costume, you have therefore assumed her identity. As such, whenever you wear this costume, The Marquis will be able to feel your presence, and therefore begin to plot against you. He can feel your presence right now, and has already begun preparations for your demise. But don't worry, I know you will be able to defeat him and his wife. And to your advantage, you too will feel his presence and be able to use that against him. You will also have the powers of righteousness on your side, and that is a powerful force.
But for now it is most important for you to come to grips with your new responsibility and grasp the powers you have inherited. Feel your new power, honor it, use it. Become familiar with what you can do, and then utilize it to fulfill The American Angel's credo. While none of us have been able to fulfill our destiny, I know that you will Josephine. The burden of this new obligation may weigh heavy on you, but I know that you will make all of us proud of you. And remember, we will always be with you.
Love,
Your mother
The American Angel"
Babe let the letter drop down into her lap as she sat there in amazement. She could not believe what she had just read, and was overcome with anxiety. Eventually calming herself, she had to re-read the letter several times before fully grasping the severity of its' contents. There was so much to learn, so much to come to grips with. But what stuck with her the most was the line in the letter which read, "as you read this while wearing The American Angel costume, you have therefore assumed her identity. As such, whenever you wear this costume, The Marquis will be able to feel your presence and therefore begin to plot against you. He can feel your presence right now, and has already begun preparations for your demise."
Like it or not, she was now The American Angel, and as such, being hunted by a centuries old madman. She had just a few minutes ago wondered what she would be doing with her life now that it was filled with emptiness, but that had not lasted long. She had been given a mission, a quest from her ancestors, and as she though about it further, was ready for the challenge.
Still not comfortable with her new role, she nevertheless got her first indication that things had changed. As she thought about her new obligations as The Americana Angel, a sudden chill ran down her spine, which in turn caused her stomach to turn. She could actually feel the Marquis' presence, just as her mother had said she would, and it left her shivering. She could see his face as if he was standing right in front of her. He had dark, slicked back hair with a dark mustache, a sinister looking man, just as she had imagined. He dressed in dark clothes with a long, flowing cape and was flanked by his wife Justine, who wore the exact type of black, leather corset she had expected her to be wearing. The couple looked like characters from an old horror movie, but Babe realized that this was no movie.
The feeling grew stronger with each passing minute, allowing Babe to comprehend their evilness, while also getting into their thoughts. She could sense that there was something big going on, something really big. Everything her mother had told her in the letter was coming true, and Babe had to learn to deal with it. She knew it wouldn't be long before her first encounter with The Marquis and his wife, so there wasn't much time to get ready.
After quite some time, she slipped out of the costume, returning back into the house. She decided to stay for a few days to sort out everything which had gone on. But each day she would go back up into the attic, put on the costume for a few hours and allow herself to get used to her new identity. One day however, she sat at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper, when a particular article got her attention. The article explained how the Academy Awards, or the Oscars as they are more commonly known, had turned up missing. No one seemed to know where they had gone, other than they appeared to have been stolen.
As Babe read the article further, she could feel something unusual going on inside of her. Not sure what to do, she decided to immediately head up to the attic and slip into her American Angel costume, hoping that would help to give her guidance.
Once she assumed The American Angel identity, she could sense that The Marquis was involved in the crime. She knew that she had to act quickly in order to do something about it, and so she did. Not pausing to think about the consequence of her actions, The American Angel ran to the window, pulled it open and jumped out. She gave no thought to the possibility of falling, and as she flew off into the daytime sky, it was easy to see why. She soared into the air with the confidence of a large, graceful bird, her body stretched as she glided through the low clouds. The American Angel was officially reborn and ready for action.
She flew on over the houses of the suburbs and the tall buildings of the city until she came to an abandoned old amusement park on the outskirts of town. She circled over it a few times, surveying the landscape before spotting her destination. It was the old Haunted House ride, built to look like a castle from Medieval times, though dilapidated and in great disrepair. But The American Angel somehow knew that the Marquis was hiding in there, and that it was finally time for her to meet him.
Landing at the entrance, she moved slowly, reacting to each little sound she heard. The entrance was dark, the hallway inside even darker, but neither stopped her from entering. Pushing the cobwebs away from her face, she walked slowly into the bowels of the structure, avoiding the rails of the tracks on which the ride used to function. Her skin grew cold and clammy as she descended deeper into the dark, clammy building, goosebumps rising on her bare skin as she continued to move forward.
Now about 15 feet down the corridor, she came upon a wall torch which burnt brightly in its' stand, the first proof that the building was not abandoned after all. Grabbing it from its' stand, she held it in front of her, using it to light her way. Finally able to see as she continued to make her way down the narrow corridor, The American Angel was startled to see a series of female mannequins in small cages lining both sides of the hallway, each placed in a different form of sexual bondage. The new matron of good was appalled by the sadistic displays, but they only proved to strengthen her resolve as she inched forward.
Finally, she came upon a light at the end of the tunnel, literally. There was a well lit room just a few feet further down the hall, and The American Angel moved anxiously, though cautiously towards it. Inching closer, she finally paused as she stood within a step of entering the room. She could feel her heart beating feverishly and her palms sweating as she stood there, waiting to meet her nemesis for the first time. Finally, gathering her emotions, she turned and charged into the center of the room. Noticing the Marquis sitting on a throne on one side, she raced to the middle of the room before stopping, defiantly placing her hands on her hips and staring him down.
She was breathing heavily at this point, her eyes peering at the evil man from behind her blue and white mask. He was just as she had seen earlier, wearing the exact clothes she had envisioned. He was seated in a large, wooden throne, with two wall torches burning on either side of him. He had his legs crossed and his hands placed on the arms of the throne as he glared back at the bikini-clad heroine who stood before him.
"Welcome American Angel..... or should I say... welcome back! I've been waiting for your return for quite some time. "
The American Angel wasted no time, standing steadfast in front of him as she replied to his greeting.
"Thank you Marquis, but I don't think you'll be happy about my visit. You see I'm here to put an end to your reign of terror.... Once and for all !"
A loud roar of laughter echoed through the room as the Marquis mocked the heroine. After chiding her however, he then snapped his fingers. Out of the corner of the room came Justine, clad in a black, leather corset and carrying a large spear.
" You may remember my wife Justine.... or at least heard of her. All of your predecessors have come to know her quite well. In fact I believe it was your grandmother who was the one whom had a crush on her. She and Justine were VERY close. But I am sure you will be great friends with her too. "
With that Justine charged at her, aiming the spear as she rushed forward. The American Angel crouched forward and prepared for battle, easily stepping aside as Justine ran by. Turning deftly, the heroine's confidence began to rise as she grabbed hold of the pole, lifting Justine into the air with it. Justine clamped her arms tightly around it, which proved to be a big mistake as The American Angel began to twirl the spear and Justine in the air, putting her into orbit around the room. She finally let go after a few revolutions, crashing into the wall in the corner before dropping to the floor.
The Marquis looked on, amused at the entertainment as The American Angel charged Justine, lifting her by her armpits. She hoisted her body up into the air before tossing her across the room, sending the leather-clad mistress flying before she tumbled to the stone floor. Satisfied with her handiwork, The American Angel then turned her attention back to the Marquis, who was smiling widely. Walking slowly and confidently in his direction, she stopped in front of him, once again placing her hands on her hips as she addressed him.
"I think we should stop this nonsense right now Marquis, before somebody gets hurt. Why don't you just give up peacefully and allow me to take you to the authorities, where you'll be given a fair trial".
He paused for a moment, but then again burst into laughter as The Angel looked on, unamused.
"So you think you have disposed of Justine so quickly? Think again!"
With that, The American Angel heard a loud scream and turned hastily toward it. Justine, who had gotten to her feet, was racing forward, the blunt end of the spear aimed right at The American Angel's midsection. Not prepared, the heroine was helpless to prevent the wooden pole from being rammed into the pit of her stomach, doubling her over and knocking the wind out of her as she was driven back and into the wall.
With her back smashing against the stone wall, The American Angel was doubled over as Justine reached forward and pulled the rod out of her gut, tossing it aside. It took the heroine a moment to straighten up, but as she did, Justine poked her in both eyes with her fore and index fingers. The heroine was now blinded and in terrific pain, stumbling forward, her arms stretched helplessly in front of her as she struggled to regain her site. The Marquis' loud laugh filled the room as Justine stood behind the blinded heroine, waiting to attack again. Reaching forward, she wrapped her arms around the Angel's neck to choke her, but the heroine acted quickly, instead flipping Justine over her head and sending her flying several feet through the air. Though still sightless, she had at least bought herself some time.
Justine moaned quietly as she struggled to get to her feet, her back aching from the painful landing. But she finally did, immediately charging the handicapped heroine, still struggling to see. But The American Angel was able to use her other, dramatically enhanced senses to pinpoint Justines' location. So as the evil mistress charged at her, the super heroine was able to grab hold of her and lift her easily into the air, with little effort.
Her vision gradually began to return as The American Angel held Justines' body overhead, lifting her into the air as she began to turn to face the Marquis. But little did she know that the Marquis had gotten up from his throne, grabbed the spear, and as the heroine turned to face her, stabbed the blunt end into her gut, just as his wife had done earlier.
With her arms stretched over her head, The Angel was defenseless, the piercing blow proving quite painful and effective. Still holding Justine overhead, she stumbled back several steps, allowing the Marquis to jab her once midsection again. The Angel stumbled further back, her stomach throbbing from the repeated jabs as her arms became weakened. But before she could release Justine, the Marquis gave her another jab with the rod, causing her to stumble back into the stone wall, dropping Justine in front of her.
Weakened from the blows to her midsection, The American Angel slumped against the wall as The Marquis turned and walked back to his throne. Justine got up quickly and raced in front of the ailing heroine, grabbing the short, blonde hair on both sides of her head. Pulling forward, she yanked the heroine off of the wall, pulling her in toward the center of the room. American Angel hobbled along, the two struggling for a few moments before finally The American Angel fought back. She thrust her hands up, breaking Justines' hold on her hair, before placing the mistress in a chokehold. She wrapped both hands around Justines' throat and began to squeeze while lifting her in the air.
Justines' face began to turn red and she kicked her legs fiercely while being pressed upward. But once again the Marquis entered the picture, this time sneaking up behind the superheroine and stuffing chloroform drenched rag over her face and mouth. The American Angel immediately began to grow weaker, losing her grip on Justines' throat and dropping her to the floor. Her arms then fell limply to her sides as she gradually dropped to one knee, and then the other, unable to avoid breathing in the debilitating vapors. Finally her eyes closed and she fell face first to the cold, stone floor, her skin still covered with goosebumps. The Marquis looked down at the fallen heroine and smiled, his wife still trying to catch her breath as she sat alongside of her.
"Nice ass for an old broad!" he mumbled out loud, before turning to his wife and shouting out orders. "Drag her over to the rack and tie her up. It's time we had some fun with our new, old friend!"
Justine smiled and followed his orders, grabbing the Angel by her ankles and dragging her across the floor and into another room which contained several ancient torture devices, many of which hung from the wall. But the largest and most prevalent of all was the huge, wooden table which sat in the center of the room. The device was indeed a rack, a medieval device used to pull its' victims apart by the limbs. Justine grabbed the Angel by her hair and pulled her off of the floor, tossing her down onto the table, face up.
She then tied each of the inexperienced super heroines' wrists and ankles in the straps before cranking the machine tightly enough to apply some good tension to the heroine's outstretched body. The American Angel was now spread taut, her arms and legs yanked toward opposite corners. Though still wearing her costume, it did little to cover her at this point, her crotch barely concealed by the miniscule panty, her nipples beginning to peak out from behind her top. The thin, lithe muscles on her inner thighs were stretched to their capacity and protruding through the skin on her legs. Her arms were being yanked apart also, her body now pulled into a large, skin colored X .
After a few more minutes, The American Angel began to come to, shaking her head before realizing the predicament she was in. The look in her eyes changed, from concern, to fear, then to horror. She lifted her head and looked down at her ankles, able to see the straps which restrained her. She then rolled her head upward to see identical straps on her wrists. Standing on one side of her was Justine, and on the other was the Marquis, each with a sinister smirk on their faces.
"Not feeling so powerful now... are we little Angel? But alas, your superpowers will allow you to free yourself, won't they?" chided the Marquis.
As if a lightbulb flashed on over her head, The American Angel pulled her right arm free from the restraints, promptly compelling Justine to reach across and forcefully rip the heroines' top off. The American Angel gasped as her breasts bounced free before beginning to sag on either side of her. Her mouth fell open and her eyes opened wide before she began to protest.
"How dare you remove my top! Put that back on me immediately and release me from this contraption!"
But the Marquis simply laughed, easily overpowering her and restraining her wrist once again. The heroine then tried to pull her left arm free, but the removal of her top had also caused her body to be stripped its' superpowers as well, rendering her powerless. She remembered the words of the letter, "Should you for some reason not wear any piece of the outfit, all of your powers will fade." Now stripped of her top, The American Angel had in fact lost all of her superpowers and was once again at her captors mercy. "Put a gag in her mouth Justine, and then show her why her grandmother loved you so!" With that, Justine stuffed a ball gag into the heroines' mouth, wrapping it around the back of her head. She then pulled her own, leather panties off before mounting the heroine's body. Sitting on top of The Angel's stomach, Justine began to slowly massage the American Angels' tits, gently rubbing her fingers over each of the heroines' nipples and pinching them playfully.
Though she tried to fight it, The American Angels' small, brown nipples gradually hardened and stood erect, prompting Justine to lean forward and begin to kiss and lick each with her tongue, softly at first, but more intensely as she went on. The heroines' spine began to arch, her head tilting backward as she moaned loudly, the sound muffled by her gag. It had been so long since she had been touched erotically that she lost control of herself and began to enjoy the fondling. But just then, abruptly Justine sat upright as the Marquis quickly moved in and snapped two small, clothespin-like clamps onto each of the heroines' erect nipples.
The American Angel moaned, but this time in agony, as the pain pierced her tits, her back arching even more now as she tried to squirm on the hard, wooden rack. Her nipples began to swell, the clips gripping the brown skin and cutting off the blood flow. But the weight of Justine sitting on her stomach and the tautness of her restraints prevented her from moving much. Justine however was on the move, slowly sliding up the heroines' body, making sure to rub her wet vagina against The American Angels' swelled tits.
She continued to shimmy her hips, grinding up the heroine's body until her crotch was pressed up against the bottom of the heroine's chin and thereby locking her head between Justines' meaty thighs. With cum beginning to ooze out of her vagina, Justine slowly rubbed her pussy up against The Angel's neck, the soft hair on her crotch massaging the heroine's chin. Justine then reached down and pulled the gag out of the heroine's mouth, just as she lifted her own hips, and sitting down on the heroines' face, her wet pussy now directly over the Angels' mouth.
The American Angel tried to shake her head, anything to escape, but Justine calmly and gently lowered her weight down, suffocating the heroine in her hairy, wet twat. She then leaned back and grabbed hold of each of the clamps, slowly pulling them up into the air and stretching the heroines' rubbery tits in the process.
"Lick me American Angel...... lick me just like your grandmother used to do..... just like your mother used to do! Lick me or I'll pull your nipples right off!" With her face suffocated and her tits being torturously ripped from her body, The American Angel reluctantly began to roll her tongue around the walls of Justines' cunt. Justine gradually released some of the pressure on the heroine's tits, prompting her to lick even more passionately. Though never having any experience with another woman sexually, the super heroine learned quickly, pleasuring Justine, who began to lift her crotch up just enough to allow the Angel a chance to breathe again..... and move her tongue even more aggressively!
The American Angel quickly realized that the more she kept Justine satisfied, the less pain she would be put in. So she went feverishly to work, trying to imagine what would stimulate her personally, and then trying to practice that on her captor. Before long Justine was cumming all over the heroines' face, drenching it in her own natural liquid. The American Angel's face was soaked, her hair matted back against her head. Justine squealed with glee at the orgasm, grinding her butt cheeks into the heroine's facial cheeks over and over before finally lifting herself up and sliding back down the heroines' body.
Satisfied, Justine sat on the heroines' ribs, just below her aching tits. She looked into the heroine's eyes, grinning wickedly before she reached forward and placed her hand onto The American Angels' cheeks, squeezing them tightly together and scrunching her wet, sticky face. "You are just as good as your ancestors, perhaps even better. We are going to have a wonderful time together...... or at least I am!"
The heroine felt completely humiliated, never imagining that she would ever be forced to do the things she just did. She nevertheless remained defiant, ordering her captor to release her. "You cannot force me to have sex with you. That's called rape and it is a very serious crime. When I get free, you can be assured that you'll pay for that!"
The Marquis, who was standing off to the side and watching the whole thing, laughed out loud at the comments. He then turned and walked away, headed toward another room. But before he left, he glared at Justine. "You've had your fun dear.... Now prepare our guest to service me!"
The heroine tried to turn and face the Marquis, but her body was pulled too tightly. "I will not service you Marquis, nor will I be a victim of your evil torture any longer..... I..... MMPPHHH" Before the harrowed heroine could finish her words, Justine had again stuffed the ball gag into her mouth, wrapping the strap around her still dripping head.
Justine dismounted the heroines' body, and then surprisingly began to undue her ankle restraints. With one leg free, the heroine desperately tried to kick her captor, but Justine easily avoided it, picking up a riding crop from a nearby table and violently flogging The American Angel's crotch three times. The heroines' head shook from side to side as her muffled, pained moans filled the dungeon-like room. Justine then undid the other restraint, but this time the heroine did not resist, instead leaving her legs pressed tightly to the table for fear of further reprimands.
Justine then took a separate restraining belt from the middle of the rack and wrapped across the heroine's midsection, binding it tightly on the other side. With her arms still pulled over her head and her midsection now secured to the table, the heroine was again bound tight. But her legs were still free, and as Justine walked toward the side of the room, the heroine desperately tried to come up with a plan. But the sound of loud, clanging chains startled her, throwing off her entire train of thought. She saw two metal shackles, dangling form heavy chains, dropping from the ceiling, just above her ankles. It wasn't difficult to figure out what they were for, and the heroine began to shiver at the thought of what was about to happen to her.
Justine walked back towards the heroine, stopping at her hips. With the riding crop in hand, she reached forward and grabbed hold of The Angel's panties, beginning to pull them down. But the novice heroine resisted foolishly, drawing another angry flogging in her already bruised crotch. With little further resistance, her panties were pulled off of her body, leaving her naked, except for her mask, gloves and boots.
Too scared to offer any further resistance at this point, Justine easily manacled the heroine's ankles in the cold, metal cuffs, locking them in place. She then walked back toward the same spot as before and began to wind the spindle, hoisting the heroine's legs up into the air. Once pulled upright, she then turned a separate wheel, forcing them to spread apart. Once complete, the heroine was left with her legs stuck up in the air and spread about as wide as they could be. The lips on her pussy spread as well, the first time they had for a long, long time.
The heroines' eyes showed her anguish, her fearful expression obvious, even from behind her blue and white mask. Justine then walked over to the side of the room and began to push a large contraption back over toward the bound heroines' spread-eagled body. As she rolled the device closer, The American Angel got a good look at it. It was some sort of machine which was mounted on top of a wooden, wheeled table. She had never seen anything like it, but as it moved closer, she was able to read the printing on the side of it. Her heart sank as she mouthed the words, "The Humper".
Justine pushed it directly between The American Angle's legs, and though the heroine was unable to see it, she had figured out what it was for. "The Marquis does not like a dry pussy, so we've got to moisten you up before he returns. This will do the trick." With that she pushed the device into place before pressing a button and starting the motor.
The heroine continued to quiver as the intimidating, grating noise of the device began to fill the room. Though "The Humper" had been placed on an ancient looking table, the device itself was anything but ancient. It looked like a fairly sophisticated piece of machinery with a long, thick, stainless steel rod which was covered with tiny pimples, protruding out in front of it. The rod was thick, shiny and long, and as the machine warmed up, it began to pump the rod forward before pulling it back again, slowly at first, but gradually building momentum. Justine pushed it closer and closer to The American Angel's red pussy, which was opened wide, inviting the machinery in.
Slowly the rod inched closer until finally touching the outer walls of the heroine's pussy. The Angel felt the cold, hard steel touch her, and then recede, touch her, and then recede. At first it merely touched her outer limits, but gradually it began to penetrate deeper and deeper into her body. The coldness and hardness was jarring for the heroine, but the sensation was arousing, even though she was mortified at being penetrated.
Her thighs tightened, her muscles contracting as she tried desperately to avoid being aroused by The Humper, but as it pumped deeper and deeper into her cunt, the pimples stimulating her with each stroke, it was impossible to avoid. In her entire life, only one man had ever penetrated her, and that man was her late husband. Twenty years had passed since he had last done it, so this was quite an unfamiliar experience for the heroine, at least at first. As the rod continued to thrust into her, it began to lubricate itself, making the penetration smooth and yet stimulating. The American Angels' body began to twitch, as much as it could from her restraints anyway, and she could gradually began to give up the fight. The machine was hitting all of the right spots and no matter how hard she tried to avoid it, the heroine was becoming completely aroused. It took about twenty minutes, the machine pumping away at a furious pace by then, but finally The American Angels' entire body tightened and she feel herself cumming.
It took about a minute for her to finish the orgasm, but once she did, the machine somehow sensed it, and gradually stopped, exiting her cunt and allowing the heroine's liquid to ooze from her vagina and onto flow onto the floor. The cum also dripped from the stainless steel rod, testament to its' effectiveness. The Angel's body, each muscle tightened, gradually began to loosen up and she felt herself begin to relax completely. It was as if twenty years of stress and tension had been released and she could no longer tighten anything on her body.
But as she lay there, the thought of having been pleasured by a machine began to sink in. She had just been violated, against her will, by a hunk of metal! A steel rood had just been driven into her cunt for thirty minutes until it finally had weakened all of her defenses and left her as vulnerable as she had ever been in her life. The thought of it made her shiver, her body quivering as it lay in the compromising position on the hard, wooden table.
Justine walked over, turned the machine off and wheeled it back away from the rack. She then walked back, standing directly between the heroine's legs and looking up at her. She noticed how much The American Angel was shuddering, and so she reached over and grabbed something off of the table. "Are you cold my dear? Oh, you must be freezing, stuck up on that table with your legs spread open like that. You certainly must be getting a draft. Here, let me help you!" With that, Justine lifted the long, plastic sphere she was holding in her hand, and flipped a switch on the back of it. It began to WHIR, shaking in Justines' hands as she moved closer, shoving it into The American Angels' cunt.
The heroine's body recoiled as the vibrator was pushed deeper and deeper into her dripping pussy, further stimulating the already exhilarated nerves. Justine watched as The American Angel's butt cheeks contracted from the activity, prompting her to reach forward toward the table again. The heroines' body continued to quiver and shake, her head rolling from side to side. "Your still shivering!" taunted Justine, "Oh! I see why. I missed one! You're still getting a draft in this other hole!" With that, Justine shoved a mushroom shaped butt plug between the heroines' spread legs, plunging it into the crack of the heroines' ass.
The American Angel felt every muscle in her body tighten once again, but this time for a different reason. Her sex life had been very tame, especially by today's standards, and so nothing had ever penetrated that part of her body. But now, not only did she have a plastic, battery-operated vibrator probing her once private pussy, but also another rubber gadget shoved where no man (or woman) had gone before. In addition, her nipples had now swollen to three times their normal size, the clamps still gripping them firmly. As she lay on the hard, wooden torture device, her arms and legs bound tightly, her sex organs being violated and abused, she slowly began to lose her will.
"This should get you nice and warmed up for the Marquis. And if you think this was bad my dear, you haven't seen anything yet!" With that, Justine turned and walked out of the room, leaving the violated, degraded heroine alone with her newfound machinery.
The American Angel had started the day with so much promise, so much energy, only to end up the victim of two sex crazed psychopaths. As she listened to the whirring of the vibrator, she could feel herself coming to climax yet again. But before she did, Justine returned to the room, this time pushing a large cart full of gold trophies. The super heroine turned her head, though so tormented at this point she could barely see straight, and in no way able to determine what the trophies were. Justine wheeled the cart down towards the bottom of the rack, positioning them near the other table off of which she grabbed several of the props already used.
Walking toward her victim, Justine softly stroked her nails down the length of the heroine's taut hamstring muscle. She then grabbed hold of the butt plug and with a firm grasp, yanked it out of the heroine's ass. The American Angel cringed, the sensation like nothing she had ever felt before, nor hoped to feel again. Tossing the rubber plug aside, Justine then grabbed the long vibrator, turning it tediously for a few seconds before pulling it out, ever so slowly.
As it was removed, a river of liquid began to seep from the heroine's vagina, drooling slowly onto the floor. The lips of her cunt were bright red now, the irritation obvious as it continued to leak her juices. Finally, Justine then removed the clamps off of the heroines' now numb nipples. The brown skin had turned crimson red and the swelling was frightful. "The Marquis has a special surprise for you today my dear, he is going to introduce you to some of your favorite actors and actresses. But it will be a very intimate introduction.... in fact, it will be more intimate than you could ever imagine!"
Once again Justine turned and left, prompting The American Angel to lift her head to try and get a look at what was on the table she had just pushed into the room. Looking right through her own elevated legs, she fixed her eyes on the table, the gold statues shimmering under the flickering light. She took them in, studying the trophies before realizing what they were. They were the Academy Awards, .... the Oscars, which had been stolen just a few days ago! She had no idea what The Marquis intended to do with them either, but she was about to find out as the evil abductor entered the room once again.
How did you and Justine get along? Can you still taste her? Oh... how rude of me.... you can't speak with that gag in your mouth. Let me remove it for you." With that, The Marquis removed the ball gag, allowing The American Angel to breathe through her mouth once again. She coughed out loud, gasping for air before spitting some liquid out to the side. Her jaw was aching, her face still dripping with Justines' cum, and The Marquis was right, she could still taste Justine. But The Marquis' arrogance seemed to incite the heroine, restoring her will and prompting her defy her captor.
"You'll never get away with this Marquis. You cannot violate me like this and get away with it!! I am an American icon! "
The Marquis let out his trademark laugh before moving close to the heroine's face. "Oh but I can get away this my dear icon... and I will. Just as I have done to every generation of American Angel. Didn't your mother tell you about it? You see I violated her many times. And your grandmother... well she liked it so much I think she actually looked forward to it. And your great grandmother.... she sucked my cock so many times that I believe my cum was her favorite drink!"
The heroine shook her head, trying not to listen to his words, but unable to ignore them. Why hadn't her mother warned her.... or had she tried to and Babe just didn't listen. But all of that was irrelevant now anyway. "Are you a gambling woman my new American Angel?" he asked. But the heroine was again defiant. "The only gambling I'll be doing will be to bet how long you are going to be locked up for in the State Prison, Marquis!"
"Your threats have become tiresome my dear.... So let's put an end to them, shall we?" With that, the Marquis again stuffed the ball gag into her mouth. "Now... as I was saying..... You see I've stolen these Academy Awards and apparently that has created quite a stir. There is great concern that the awards will not be available for the televised broadcast, and that the results of the voting will be discovered and announced prior to the airing of the show. Well I have no intention of ruining the show, but I am curious about who won.... Aren't you?"
The American Angel glared back at him, but showed no response. "Well I am sure you are. You see, one of the films in the Best Picture Category is titled, American Beauty.... It would seem that is an insult to you. Some would say that you, my dear American Angel, are the one and only American Beauty. How dare they title a film in such a way. It is an indignity to you my dear!
So here is my deal to you. All of the winners of these awards are indicated on each statue. Once the tape is peeled off, the winner will be revealed." Reaching over to the table, The Marquis picks up the statue which reads, BEST PICTURE. A piece of tape covers the rest of the inscription, just as he had said.
"My deal to you is this..... if the winner is the American Beauty, then that must mean that you are not the true American beauty and therefore will remain as my sex slave. However if any film other than American Beauty is the winner, than that must mean that you ARE in fact the true American beauty, and as such, deserve your freedom. Do you agree?"
The bound heroine began to struggle, her body writhing on the table as she tried to squirm free. "I'll take that as a yes. Okay... here goes!" With that, The Marquis ripped off the tape to reveal the winner. Looking at it, he showed no reaction at first, but then blurted loudly..... "And the winner for best picture is....... AMERICAN BEAUTY!" The Marquis turned the trophy around so that The American Angel could read the inscription. "But unfortunately ladies and gentlemen, the loser is...... THE AMERICAN ANGEL!"
With that, The Marquis said no more, instead walking down toward the heroines' legs. He grabbed The Humper, and began to affix the golden, Best Picture statue to the end of it. The American Angel looked down through her legs and saw what was happening, again trying to scream from beneath her gag, her body writhing to break free. It didn't take long however, before the statue was attached to the steel rod on the end of the machine, Oscars' head aimed directly at the heroine's cunt. In a shuddering instant, The Marquis flipped the switch, and the gold statue began to pump slowly, back and forth.
The heroine could feel the cold, hard, golden metal touch the outer edges of her raw twat, gradually beginning to penetrate inside of her. Since the head of the statue was relatively narrow, it was not painful until the shoulders began to descend into her body. The machine gathered momentum as the statue continued to plunge deeper and deeper into the heroines' sex cavity, causing her to moan loudly, her body filled with agony..... and ecstasy. She was being fucked by the Oscar for Best Picture, and The Marquis was loving every minute of it.
But not satisfied, he pulled his clothes off and quickly hopped up onto the table, mounting the heroines' chest as he straddled her body, his rock hard cock aiming right at her chin. "Now it is time for you to service your master...... and don't think about trying anything funny.... or you will pay dearly!"
With that, The Marquis slid closer, yanking the heroine's head up by the hair and ripping the gag out of her mouth. He then shoved his cock forward, ramming it into her face and forcing her lips to spread apart. Her eyes closed, almost as if that would make it all go away, but alas, did not work. Her cheeks puckered as he began to swivel his hips, submersing his dick into her mouth. The American Angel resisted at first, prompting him to lean back and snatch her nipples between his fingers. Pulling violently on her already swollen nipples, the heroine instantly succumbed, licking the tip of his dick and beginning to suck it with great passion.
This went on for twenty minutes, the gold statue being rammed into her already brutalized cunt while The Marquis' dick was being plunged into her mouth. She nearly gagged on it a number of times, The Marquis trying to force it as far down her throat as he could. Finally, with his pace building momentum, he pulled his dick out of mouth while ripping at her hair to jostle her head from side while spraying his cum all over her face. The force of his ejaculation was intense, showering the demoralized heroine in the white fluid and even spraying some up her nose. Finally he finished, releasing the grip on her hair and allowing her head to drop back against the table as he dismounted her body.
The machine continued to immerse the award into the heroine's cunt, but The Marquis was disappointed that it not yet brought her to climax. "You seemed to be aroused by Justine, so perhaps involving another woman would help you to ejaculate. Let me see who we could include..... " With that, The Marquis began to sort through the statues on the table, reading the categories aloud. "We do not need an actress in a leading role... since we have you for that. But perhaps if we brought in an actress in a supporting role, that might help." Reaching over to the trophies, he found the appropriate Oscar and grabbed it, lifting the tape off to reveal the winner.
"Angelina Jolie! I couldn't have thought of a better participant myself! Congratulations Angelina, let me introduce you to The American Angel!" With that, The Marquis moved up between the heroines' spread legs, grasping the trophy tightly in his hand. With her legs spread apart and The Humper continuing to work on her cunt, the small hole for the crack of her ass was spread open as well, prompting The Marquis to lubricate the head of the Oscar before slowly squeezing it into the opening.
The American Angel again squirmed and tried to scream, her muscles pulled tightly from the pain. Her muffled cries were drowned out by the drone of The Humper however as her limbs stretched against the binds which tied her. The Marquis continued to gradually manipulate the award until finally the entire head of it had been immersed into the heroines' ass. He then began to gently roll it around inside of the heroine while The Humper gathered momentum as it continued to fuck her. Eventually, The American Angel gave up all hope of resisting and again climaxed, her body quaking violently from the strain of it.
The Marquis looked in satisfaction as the machine wound down before pulling the Oscar from the depths of the heroines' crimson cunt. Her cum dripped from the head of the award, a pink stream also emanating form between her legs. The Marquis then slowly pulled the other Oscar out of her ass, the bruised heroine moaning loudly, her spine wrenching from the pain.
With all of the foreign objects now removed from her body, The American Angel laid there, her body drenched and sticky. She had been taken in every possible way, and left completely broken. As The Marquis stood over her, Justine entered the room, standing alongside him, the evil couple staring at their victim.
"I think she has had enough for one day. Wash her down, chloroform her, untie her and get her dressed. We will then implant the amnesia dildo inside of her on the ride back before releasing her to the world." Justine followed her husbands' orders, removing the heroines' gag, shoving a chloroform soaked rag under her nose and knocking her out. She then slipped the heroines' complete costume back onto her violated body, leaving her unconscious on the stone floor. Taking a hose, she sprayed the unconscious heroine with water, washing the cum from her face and body before turning the water off. Leaving her there, Justine then loaded the back of a panel truck with the Academy Awards before lifting the unconscious heroine onto her shoulder and carrying her to the truck as well.
Dumping her body into the back, next to the awards, Justine then slipped off the heroine's panty once again before hog tying her arms and legs. With The American Angels' raw, irritated cunt left open, Justine once again prepared a vibrator for insertion. This time however, she had filled it with a fluid which, when injected into the heroines' body via the vibrator, would erase the majority of the days' events from her memory. The fluid was intended to prevent her from remembering exactly what had happened, but leaving just enough bits of the events in her subconscious to taunt her.
With the vibrator ready, Justine turned it on before shoving it into the heroines' opening. Though still unconscious, The American Angels' hog-tied body nonetheless writhed on the floor before settling back against the side of the truck. The cheeks of her ass were bright pink, her bodily fluids dripping out of the sides of her cunt while the vibrator whirred softly, slowly injecting the fluids into her cavity. Justine then closed the door, locked it and jumped into the drivers' seat. She sped off, leaving the heroines' body to be violently slammed around the cargo area while she drove to her destination.
It took about an hour, but she reached the destination, which was a deserted warehouse on the other side of town. Opening the cargo area, she unloaded all of the Academy Awards before turning her attention to the plugged heroine. She plucked the vibrator from between the Angels' legs and untied her, just as the heroine began to regain consciousness. Justine then reached for the bottle of chloroform and began to drench a rag in the liquid. But as she did, The American Angel had completely regained consciousness, and a struggle ensued. With her panty still laying in the back of the van, the heroine did not yet have the use of her superpowers. And further weakened by the events of the day, Justine easily overpowered her, knocking her to the floor.
But as Justine went to stuff the chloroform-soaked rag over the heroines' mouth and nose, the clever Angel bit her, causing Justine to drop the rag. Acting quickly, The American Angel picked it up and abruptly placed it over Justines' nose and mouth. The leather clad dominatrix squirmed and struggled, but with the heroine holding on for dear life, gradually Justine lost consciousness.
The American Angel then quickly grabbed her panties and slipped them back on, liquid still running down both of her inner thighs. The heroine saw the liquid, but could not figure out where it had come from. What she could not remember was that the amnesia inducing vibrator had been shoved inside of her, and had done it's job, erasing the days' events from her conscious memory. So with her superpowers now restored since her entire costume was finally back on her body, The American Angel tied Justine up, using the same rope which had been used to hog-tie her earlier.
The heroine then alerted the authorities, and waited for their arrival. Numerous police cars arrived at the scene, as did the mayor of Central City. The American Angel presented the Academy Awards to him, and then presented Justine to the police officers, who immediately took her into custody.
"Well we are very grateful to you Miss...... ummm... what is your name?" the mayor asked the bikini clad heroine. "I am The American Angel... and though I have been away for awhile.... I'm back to protect the citizens of this great country."
The mayor looked her up and down, not sure of what to make of her. He vaguely remembered The American Angel from his younger days, but had not heard about her in years. She was obviously no young woman, but at his advanced age, she looked quite sexy nonetheless. As he eyed her, it was hard for him, and several others who had gathered, not to notice the drippings which ran down the inside of her thighs, nor the way she walked ever so gingerly, her legs bowed wide. "Well I look forward to seeing more of you Miss..... umm..... American Angel!" the mayor replied, a suggestive tone in his voice. He then turned and whispered to one of the police officers, "I don't think there's much more to see, but whatever is left, I sure as hell am going to try to see it!" The proud American Angel, completely unaware of how she had been thoroughly exploited earlier in the day, stood nobly and replied, "You can count on seeing more of me Mr. Mayor" the heroine responded naively.
Shortly after, several news crews arrived at the scene, and before long, everyone in America had become reacquainted with The American Angel. The newspaper headlines trumpeted her name, the newscast featured her as the opening story in the nightly newscasts and before long, grandmothers and grandfathers everywhere were telling their grandkids of their own memories of The American Angel, passing on the past exploits of the great American superheroine for future generations.
A week later however, Babe sat alone in her living room, watching the Academy Awards program on television. A special thanks was announced to The American Angel for retrieving the awards and rescuing the show, causing Babe to blush upon hearing it. The rest of the show was uneventful until the award for best actress was given to Angelina Jolie. Strangely enough, as soon as the actress was handed the award, Babe felt a terrible pain in the crack of her ass. It caused her to jump off of the couch and roll on the floor in pain. She had no idea why, and it didn't stop until the actress had left the stage, at which point the pain suddenly disappeared.
More time passed and the broadcast went on, Babe beginning to forget about the unusual pain until the award for Best Picture was given. When the ensemble from American Beauty walked onstage and grabbed the award, Babe felt a tingling between her legs. The arousal became more and more pronounced, causing her to moan out loud in ecstasy and spread her legs apart. As the producer of the movie completed his acceptance speech and then kissed the statue, Babe could feel his lips on the lips of her cunt, fondling them. Before long, she felt herself cumming right there on her living room sofa, with no one else in sight. Her head dropped back and her body shuddered as the award was passed from person to person in the group, each time a new set of hands touched it, she felt a different type of arousal. As the group finally walked off of the stage, a chill ran down her spine and she felt completely, sexually satisfied. As the show moved on, Babe lay there, hugging a pillow and not sure what had just happened.
Meanwhile, in the dungeon-like hideout of The Marquis, he snickered at the thought of the heroines' reaction. He had planned for this to happen, and as the Academy Awards program flickered in the background, he imagined the superheroine lying in her home, completely flabbergasted. But he did not allow himself to dwell on the moment, instead directing his attention instead to planning the escape of his wife from prison and affecting revenge upon the superheroine who had put her there.
THE END
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