DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 OR EASILY OFFENDED BY SEXUAL MATERIAL,

VIOLENCE, BONDAGE, FEMALE SUBMISSION, SANTA CLAUS IMMITATORS, GROWN MEN

PRETENDING TO BE SANTA’S HELPERS OR OTHER SEXUAL SITUATIONS.

Ms Americana and Flag Girl are the creations of Mr. X.

Please direct all comments and feedback to dark_one@live.com.

MS AMERICANA: BAD SANTA

By Dark One

Ms Americana stepped inside the Delta City University Student Commons. The

blast of heat was a relief after the wintry cold outside. Her skimpy red,

white and blue bikini did nothing to keep her warm, though the power belt

did give her some little relief. Indeed, the cold made her nipples hard as

rocks, very erect and that condition was quite apparent to anyone who cared

to look. And there were quite a few young college men gawking at them at

the moment.

“Never seen a woman before, boys?” she said.

They all either blanched, or turned flaming red, and averted their eyes.

But she noted with some satisfaction that they couldn’t keep their eyes off

her for more than a few seconds. Her red booted legs were looked over, as

was her shapely rump, 44DDs and glorious raven-wing mane. Even some of the

young women couldn’t pull their eyes from her.

“Ms Americana!” a perky blonde beauty said, hurrying her way. “Merry

Christmas! Long time no see. How have you been?”

The blonde beauty wore tight faded jeans stuffed into tall black boots and

a skin tight fuzzy pink sweater. Her soft, silky hair was long and

straight, with bangs dropping down almost into her blue eyes.

“I’m excellent,” she said. “Merry Christmas. Miss Willis, isn’t it?”

“Yes! You remembered,” she said, blue eyes flashing with joy. “Lydia

Willis, to be precise.”

They shared a brief, secret smile. This was not coincidence. Ms Americana

called ahead and asked Lydia to meet her in the Commons.

“Of course, Lydia,” she said, as if just barely recalling her name. “What

a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Lydia said, then indicated a bevy of pretty

coeds surrounding them. She quickly introduced them. “Is there anything we

can help you with? Or anyone we can help you find?”

“No thanks,” she said. Ms Americana indicated the Santa Claus sitting upon

his Christmas Throne across the vast Commons. The Commons’ halls were

“decked” with Christmas wreaths and other decorations. Jingle Bells play in

the background and many of the coeds there wore Christmas themed

accessories, like Christmas tree balls for earrings. “I’ve found the man I

was looking for.”

They all looked at Santa with confused looks. Ms Americana smiled at them,

then turned her attention to the Santa. He didn’t look any different than

thousands of other Santas working street corners, malls and other places

across the land for minimum wages. But Ms Americana found a confusing link

between him and the string of missing young women in the city. For one,

they were all students at the University. Most were freshmen or sophomores.

And without exception, they were beautiful and vivacious.

“I don’t understand?” Lydia said. “Surely Santa hasn’t done anything

wrong. Has he?”

“I don’t know,” Ms Americana said. The bevy of coeds hung on her every

word, with open mouths and eyes filled with admiration. A few even cast

Santa a dark look. Then she lifted up a necklace, with a tiny little

Christmas Angel hanging from it. “Sixteen coeds have disappeared in the

last week. The Police and I have found clues indicating at least some of

them might have visited the Commons shortly before vanishing. Indeed, in

three instances their cars were found still idling, and we found little

angel necklaces in their book bags.”

“Those are the necklaces Santa gives to his favorites,” one of the coeds

said, grinning wickedly.

“Favorites?”

“That’s right,” Lydia said, pointing at the Christmas Angel dangling from a

silver chain at the base of her throat. “Santa gave me this one just this

morning. After I sat on his lap and told him what I wanted for Christmas.”

The other girls began giggling. Ms Americana grinned. She understood what

that meant. She’d played the same game with the Commons’ Santa Claus in her

day, when she attended the University. The girls all go sit on his lap and

tell what they want for Christmas, but the real game was to try and make him

cum. They would sit prettily, sexily and grind their firm round hineys into

his groin, and give him supreme pleasure. The “mall” Santas all fought

tooth and nail each year to get that wonderful gig. The pay was lousy, but

the beenies were great.

“This year’s Santa gives out a little Santa necklace to each girl that sits

on his lap,” Lydia said. Then a look of mischievousness crept into her

beautiful blue eyes. “But his favorites get little angels.”

“It’s not easy getting an angel. He only gives three or four a day,”

another girl said, pouting. Ms Americana noted that Lydia was the only one

with an angel necklace, too. Of course, she was the prettiest of the bunch.

“I’ve gotten six Santas and no angel yet. Lydia had to sit on his lap

three times before she got her angel.”

Ms Americana cut an inquiring look at Lydia, whose face flamed red.

“I…uh….FINALLY made him cum this morning,” she said in a tiny, guilty

voice, but her eyes were alive with delight. “It’s an old game here, from

what I understand.”

“Yes,” Ms Americana said, recalling her college days in the Commons. “But

in my day we didn’t get confirmation gifts.”

# # #

Santa bit his lip and groaned. The redhead on his lap was the best yet.

Big blue eyes. Full kissable lips glistening burgundy. Her breasts were

high and proud, and straining the burgundy sweater she wore. She had a body

to die for, decked out in black leather mini and stiletto pumps.

“I’m been a very bad girl this year, Santa,” she whispered breathlessly

into his ear. He could feel her hot breath on his ear. Her sweet perfume

filled the air and stroked his libido. Then she turned slightly, pressing

her firm bosom against him. He swallowed hard. “I had sex with the

football team’s defensive front four. All at once. Last night.” Suddenly

she looked all innocent. “But I had to. I’m their good luck fuck. I

always do them the night before the game. They pass me around for hours.”

“Have they been winning?” he croaked out.

“Lost every game this year,” she said, pouting prettily. She shifted and

her skirt rode up higher. He glanced down to see dark red pubic hair. He

saw the line of her slit through the glistening pubs. “That why I’ve been a

bad girl. There’s no luck in my fuck anymore. And I’ve been a lucky fuck

for three straight years before this year.”

He placed his hand on her bare thigh and stroked it sympathetically. She

all but purred as she wiggled her ass just right, making his rock hard cock

ache even more.

“Oh, my, you need a change in luck for Christmas,” Santa said. Those sweet

lips of hers curled into a sensuous smile. “Perhaps Santa should meet you

someplace off campus and give you a very special present usually reserved

for Mrs. Claus.”

She slipped a key into his hand and whispered an address, and apartment

number.

“Ho! Ho! Ho! And here’s a little something from Santa, Sweetie,” Santa

said, handing her a Christmas Angel necklace. She put it on, flashing a

triumphant look at the line of girls behind her. A low groan of disappoint

rose up.

“Thank you, Santa,” she said, then kissed him on the cheek. Whispering,

“I’ll be in my Santa’s helper outfit at 10 P.M., Santa.”

With that she was gone.

Life is good, he thought as the redhead strutted away. Numerous coeds

looked at her jealously. They all wanted that little angel, but didn’t know

that whoever earned it was doomed. Doomed to white slavery. And only the

best and most beautiful earned it, too.

“Looks like I’m next, Santa.”

Tearing his eyes off the redhead’s swinging hiney, he turned to greet the

next girl. His greeting died in his throat. Ms Americana was standing

before him in her patented super heroine pose. Her big blue eyes bore into

him, sucking the wind out of his lungs. He barely had the strength to

swallow as his eyes ran down her spectacular body. He didn’t like the mask,

but thought the rest of her outfit very arousing. He especially liked the

blue choker with the golden star. Chokers reminded him of dog collars and

slave collars, and he believed all beautiful women should be dragged down

into white slavery, where they belonged.

“Ms Americana,” he choked out. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Forgive me, Santa,” she said with a knowing grin as his eyes locked on her

famous 44DDs. “I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop in. What a

delight to see Santa here, and I so need to give you my Christmas List.”

“Uh...Of course!” he said, managing to smile. He wasn’t completely

convinced she wasn’t there to arrest him. He patted his lap, “Please, have

a seat and tell ole Santa what you want for Christmas, Ms Americana.”

A lump formed in his throat as the spectacular super heroine moved toward

him. Six foot one and a body to die for. He’d never seen her equal. He

wanted her, and feared her at the same time. Could he risk it? Should he?

Ms Americana sat on Santa’s lap and crossed her mile long legs. He

couldn’t help himself. Santa placed a hand on her thigh and caressed the

silky smooth skin, which was so soft and warm. She smiled and threw an arm

around his shoulders and leaned into him. Her massive right tit pressed

into him, making his heart race. His cock was rock hard and pressing

against her rump.

She shifted her weight ever so slightly, pressing down on his hard cock

perfectly, and smiled knowingly. Knowing she was trying to make him cum

made him twice as horny, and three times as aroused.

“What I really want for Christmas is Peace on Earth and Justice for All,

Santa,” she said with mischievous blue eyes. “But, on a more personal

note...”

He understood she was playing the same game as the coeds. In that instant

he understood she didn’t suspect him, and that she was just trying to get an

angel necklace. All his fear drained away. He was in control of the

situation. Ms Americana was playing his game.

Glancing down, he noted her star-spangled bikini bottoms were tight and

thin. He made out the line of her slit through the fabric. And to his

shock and pleasure, he discovered her nipples were rock hard and very erect.

“All I want for Christmas is a little angel,” she whispered. Then she

flexed her rump muscles just so, sending a jolt of pleasure through his

cock. “What are my chances of getting one?”

“So far so good,” he said and swallowed. It felt good, too good. She

proved to be the most talented of them all. Within moments he was ready to

cum, but she kept his release at bay. “I’m almost….oh….please, Ms

Americana.”

“Do I get an angel?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” she said, pleased. “Enjoy.”

Ms Americana covertly used her shapely hiney to stroke his rod. In no time

Santa felt the tingle turn into the mad rush to climax.

“Ho! Ho! Uuuhhhggg...ho,” he said quietly, his eyes rolled up in his head.

She expertly milked him dry, then waited with a pleased smile for her gift.

“Thank you, Ms Americana, thank you so much. And this is for you.”

Santa gave her the angel she wanted so badly. He did it with mixed

emotions, for he feared she might be too much for his elves to handle. But

they were the best. And so was Ms Americana.

“Thank you,” Ms Americana said, accepting the Christmas Angel with a red

gloved hand. “Next year? Same time and place?”

“I can’t wait.”

With that Ms Americana got up and left. He waited for her to exit the

building, then excused himself. Though he claimed he had to take a bathroom

break, the coeds all nodded with knowing smiles.

Once in the Men’s Room, he ensured he was alone then pulled out his cell

phone.

“Santa here,” he said. “I just activated an angel. Do NOT pick her up.

It’s Ms Americana. That’s a special present that we’ll have to wait until

last.”

# # #

Ms Americana departed the Commons. She hurried to her “Americana” sports

car and started the engine. Soon the heater was going, giving her the heat

she craved.

Dangling the Christmas Angel from red gloved fingers, she wondered what it

meant. Were there any connections other than coincidence? It was obvious

that sweet old man playing Santa Claus wasn’t involved. She knew evil when

she spotted it. And he was just a dirty old man getting his jollies

bouncing pretty women on his knee.

Even so, she decided to drive around a bit and check out all the Christmas

decorations in the city. Just to see if anyone tried to kidnap her. Not

likely, but she had her hopes up.

“I just have to get to the bottom of this,” she said, putting the car in

gear and burning rubber as she left. “I’ve promised Commissioner Borden I’d

solve it before Christmas, and I’ll look foolish if I don’t.”

Ms Americana hated looking anything but perfect.

# # #.

Lydia returned to Wade Manor in late afternoon. For a short while, she

thought she was being followed by a dark blue, late model full-sized van.

She touched the Christmas Angel hanging around her neck, fearing the men

kidnapping young coeds were after her. Was Ms Americana right? Was the

Commons’ Santa the key to this case? And was she going to be the next

victim to go missing? But just when she thought out her plan to get to her

Flag Girl costume and power belt before getting caught, the van turned off

down a side road.

“Oh, my,” she breathed, one perfectly manicured hand over her racing heart.

She laughed. “And here I was making plans to be the heroine of the hour

by catching the miscreants after me! I’m so silly some times.”

In a way, Lydia was disappointed. Brenda would’ve been so impressed if she

caught the kidnappers unassisted. The press wouldn’t eaten that up, too.

She longed for acceptance as a super heroine in full glory, not just as Ms

Americana’s sidekick. A big solo bust would’ve done it for her, too.

“Maybe next time,” she said as she pulled into the long driveway up to Wade

Manor. She parked her red convertible BMW outside the front door and

gathered her books. Lydia had a lot of studying to do for her last Final

tomorrow, which was doubly frustrating. For one, she was a pretty coed and

had better things to do than do tedious work. And another, she wasn’t

allowed to prowl the streets with Ms Americana as Flag Girl until her Finals

were all completed. “Another boring evening. Dammit.”

She dumped the books on the table just inside the front door. A servant

would haul them up to her room and place them on her desk. She would jump

into them after she finished dinner.

“Good evening, Miss Lydia,” Geeves, the butler, said.

“Good evening, Geeves,” she said. “Has Brenda returned home?”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Lydia. She called and said she’d get dinner at the

office, and would probably be rather late.”

Frowning, dejected, “Fine. I’ll take pizza in the media room. Dismiss the

staff and you all go home, Geeves. OK?”

“As you wish, Miss Lydia.”

Fifteen minutes later, Lydia was sprawled out on a chase in the media room,

watching Real World on MTV and idly eating pizza off the TV tray. After

Real World and Road Rules, she’d go do her homework. Unless Celebrity

Deathmatch reruns were on VH1, of course.

The media room was Lydia’s favorite place in the mansion. Centered on one

wall was a huge screen for the movie projector, which she could have her

favorite TV station projected upon. To either side of that were banks of

high definition plasma TVs, allowing her to monitor all of her favorite

channels at once. Both side walls had massive fireplaces, which were

presently decorated for Christmas and had fires blazing merrily. On the

mantels were Christmas Candles and humorous Christmas statuary of blissful

and sometimes mischievous looking Santas and elves. The statues ranged in

size from six inches to twenty-four inches high.

Wade Manor was a vast, sprawling palace. When it was empty, it could be

spooky with strange noises and such. Lydia was used to it. So when the

noises began, she didn’t notice them right away. But then the very distinct

sound of a door shutting came to her.

“Brenda’s home,” she said, eyes brightening. Shouting, “I’m in the media

room!”

Lydia felt all warm inside. She loved her time with Brenda, especially

when they were Ms Americana and Flag Girl. Maybe she had a clue they had to

investigate. Oh, it would be so great if she walked in there and told her

to dress up in costume.

So when the door swung open, she rolled to her knees and looked at the door

expectantly. But Ms Americana wasn’t coming through that door. Nor was

Brenda Wade. It wasn’t even the butler, Geeves.

“Santa?”

“Ho! Ho! Ho! There you are,” Santa said. He gave her a stern look.

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl. For that you must be punished.”

Lydia gawked at him a long moment, mouth open. Why was he there? Did she

say or do something to make him think there would be more than what they had

that morning? Who let him inside? The staff was dismissed. Then she saw

the men behind him, all dressed up in green elf costumes.

“Oh my God!” Lydia cried. “You…you are…”

“Bad Santa,” he said, grinning evilly. “Okay, evil elves, time to unwrap

this pretty little present.”

Lydia rolled off the chase and took a defensive stance. One of the elves

laughed and charged her. She smirked, knowing he was in for a rude

awakening. Flag Girl was more than a match for any five plus miscreants.

Though, she counted six men, including Bad Santa. But Santa was old and she

didn’t consider him a threat.

“You won’t be unwrapping anything this Christmas, Bad Santa,” she said, and

kicked at Bad Santa’s approaching elf. But the kick to the head, that

would’ve put him down for the count, ended up striking his hip. Her skin

tight jeans had no give. “Oh, shit!”

Lydia suddenly realized she wasn’t Flag Girl, in her skimpy red, white and

blue star-spangled costume. The costume that was so skimpy it didn’t

restrict her movements at all. A costume designed to distract her enemies

long enough for her to get the upper hand. And worse, no costume meant no

power belt.

I’m normal strength! Lydia thought in shock, then fright. I’ve got to get

away.

If she could get to the secret room upstairs, then she would be hidden from

the intruders and could safely change into Flag Girl. As Ms Americana’s

sexy sidekick she would be more than a match for them.

“Got her!” an elf cried, bring her rudely out of her brief reverie.

“No! Let go, you nasty man,” Lydia cried, struggling to escape the iron

grasp of the burly elf. He had hold of her right wrist and she couldn’t

break the hold. A second later, another elf arrived and seized her other

wrist. She found her arms pulled out and herself stretched between two evil

men. “Release me or else!”

“Release you?” Bad Santa said, grinning evilly. “That would be neither

fun, nor profitable.”

Lydia froze in mid-struggle. “Profitable?”

Bad Santa caressed her silky soft cheek. Then he ran his thumb along her

lower lips, smearing her pink lipstick. The look of animal hunger in his

eyes took her breath way.

“Once we’re finished with you, then we’ll sell you into white slavery,” Bad

Santa said. His lusty eyes drifted down to her amble 38D breasts, heaving

and straining against her tight, pink cashmere sweater. “Such pretty

wrapping. A present worthy of opening.”

With that, Bad Santa seized her sweater at the neck, and ripped it open.

She was exposed, revealing the lacy black bra she wore. Lydia gasped, and

then struggled insanely. A third elf came up behind her at that time and

seized her tits from behind, gave them a squeeze, then unfastened the snap

between her magnificent mammaries.

Lydia yelped in shock as her beautiful, firm tits dropped and jounced

enticingly before the lusty men. She struggled insanely for a long moment,

until she knew for certain she couldn’t break free, and that her struggles

were making her breasts bouncing around in such a way as to excite those

terrible men even more.

With her 38Ds vulnerable and exposed to all eyes, Bad Santa licked his lips

and reached for them. She cried out, twisting and turning, once again doing

everything to escape the vile touch of Bad Santa and his evil elves. But to

know avail.

Bad Santa sucked in a pretty pink nipple, and began sucking hard. Both

hands squeezed and kneaded her globular white tits, savoring the warm,

silkiness of her skin and the slowing stiffening, rubbery nipples. All the

while, the evil elves were ripping off her clothes.

“Oh! Stop! This isn’t right,” she cried, wildp-eyed.

In no time, her tattered sweater was stripped off. She quickly found

herself topless, on her knees before Bad Santa. The elves were holding her

arms out and to the back and forcing her forward, with a foot between her

shoulder blades. Her face was dick high to Bad Santa, who was pulling out

his Jolly Old Cock.

“No! Please, this is wrong,” she begged. “I’m a virgin. I’m only

nineteen.”

“Nineteen and prime meat for the white slave market,” Bad Santa said,

moving up to her face, cock in hand. “Ho! Ho! Ho! Down your throat I go!”

“Oh…my…..God,” Lydia said as his cock moved unstoppably toward she hot,

pink mouth. “I’m the ward of a very rich woman, Brenda Wade, and she will

pay ransom IF I’m unmolested.”

His cock touched her lips. Pressed into them, demandingly. She knew then

he wouldn’t be swayed by any promise of ransom. So she clamped her teeth

and lips shut, denying his entry.

“Anyone have the key to this bitch’s mouth?” Bad Santa said, chucking.

“Yeah, I have it in my boot here,” an elf said behind her.

Lydia started to look behind her, to see what he had planned. But it was

too late. The elf kicked her in the twat. Hard.

“Aaaiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeee!” she cried, eyes wide in shock, horror and

pain. Bad Santa stuffed his cock into her mouth. “Mmmmppphhhhffff!”

Lydia couldn’t believe what was happening. And more, she couldn’t believe

the stench of Bad Santa’s cock! Did he ever wash it? And the taste was

nasty, too. She would’ve gagged if her mouth wasn’t stuffed to the max.

Bad Santa’s head rolled back as he pushed himself deep into sweet mouth.

Lydia raged and tried to speak, until she realized she was just making a

humming sound and vibration, that felt heavenly to Bad Santa. So she shut

up, and relaxed. With her fight over, and Lydia just seething before him,

Bad Santa began fucking her mouth in earnest.

Lydia, though, refused to suck or give him any more pleasure than he was

gaining without her cooperation. He tried to push into her throat, to make

her deep throat him, but she held him at bay. Suddenly she felt hands on

her rump, then her hips. That same someone began massaging her twat through

the jeans.

“Mmphhhh!” she protested. She felt heat between her legs, deep in her

pussy. Then her whole body shuddered. “Hhhhmmmmpphhh!”

Those hands reached round and unfastened her tight jeans, then unzipped

her. Lydia’s eyes went wide in shock, and she choked when Bad Santa’s cock

slipped into her throat. Before she understood what happened, Bad Santa’s

cock was completely inside her and she was fighting her gag reflex. Not

that he was giving her even an inch to gag in, though.

With her jeans unfastened, she felt the elf’s hands begin to wander again.

They went over her rump, up and down her firm thighs, and finally stopped on

her tall, black boots. He caressed the five inch stilettos a long moment,

then she felt him unzip the boots and remove them. After that, he quickly

removed her jeans.

“Oooo, she’s all wet and ready,” the elf said, cupping her twat.

“Mmmmm. Hphhhmmmm!”

“I think she said, ‘Fuck me! Fuck me long and hard, big boy!’” another elf

said, and laughed.

“Close enough for me,” the elf said, fingering her sopping pussy lips.

“These rich bitches act all haughty to hide how horny they are. They’re all

just a bunch of super sluts waiting to be opened up and shown what to do by

a firm hand.”

Lydia gasped around the massive cock in her mouth when his fingers opened

her sex up. He spread her pussy lips wide, letting cool air in. It was

like an electric shock through her system. The elf began to massage her

slippery love lips with one hand, while reaching around to pinch and flick

her now erect nipples with the other. She closed her eyes and tried to

concentrate on something disgusting. Like guts. Bloody guts.

Bad Santa’s fucking of her mouth was too much of a distraction, and the elf

was quite good at what he was doing as well. Between the two of them, Lydia

soon found herself in a precarious situation. The heat in her twat had

turned into a tingling warmth infusing her entire body. And it was steadily

getting more and more intense. Soon she would loose control of her emotions

and body.

Then the elf found her clit and flicked it. She jumped, eyes wide in shock

once again. He flicked it again and she groaned miserably. He knew he had

found something, so spend the next five minutes frying her mind with the

most incredibly circular motions on and around her clit.

She barely noticed Bad Santa’s cock growing slightly larger in her mouth,

and his pumping getting more frantic. Lydia’s full attention was held slave

by the elf’s fingers on her clit and nipple. Until, that is, the elf moved

his erect penis in and pressed it against her trembling twat. A second

later, he thrust his hips and she found herself impaled upon a genuine male

cock for the first time. The second thrust brought him to the gates of

heaven, her intact Hymen.

“The rich bitch was telling the truth,” he said, thrilled. “She really is

a virgin!”

Please stop! I beg you! She cried, but all they heard was, “Hlleeee

slllpppp! Uhh beellll uphfff!”

The exuberant elf seized her hips with both hands and inched up a bit

closer between her sprayed legs. Her heart raced, the blood pounding in her

ears like war drums. Suddenly she couldn’t breath, couldn’t think.

He thrust hard, causing Lydia to squeal and buck.

“Oops, she WAS a virgin,” he laughed.

Bad Santa lost it then. She felt his cock convulse deep inside her mouth,

then he started to pull out. The first spurt went deep into her throat, but

the second slide across her tongue. The third sprayed her pretty pink lips,

and the fourth and final spurt from Bad Santa’s cock spewed across her

shocked face.

“Oooooo, Gaawwwwdddd,” she groaned, for the elf was thrusting hard, and

deep within her womanhood. “Oh, please….oh……God,

please…..don’t……don’t….stop….”

“She said don’t stop, Larry,” Bad Santa said, chuckling as he used her

silky blonde hair to wipe his cock clean.

Larry the Elf began banging her pussy with a vengeance. Lydia could only

gasp and endure. Enduring feelings she never felt before. Pleasure and

pain. Pain that stoked her pleasure. And, worse, it all felt soooo right.

The cock was completely inside her now. The full length of his cock was

being used with each stroke. Each stroke ended with a wet slap of male

thighs against female hiney and thighs. She heard the squishing noise of

his cock sliding in and out, in and out, in and out. Squish, squish, slap.

Squish, squish, slap.

“Ohhhhhhh.”

She felt her heavy tits swaying and jostling. She felt the sweat rolling

off her back, down her sides, down her swinging tits. The air cooled the

tracks of those beads of sweat, invigorating Lydia. The feel of beads of

sweat dripping off her nipples stoked her libido. The warm tingle flamed up

and turned into a hot rush to climax.

“Forgive me!” she cried as an orgasm rolled up from her twat, to consume

her body and soul. “Oh! Ohhh! Aaaaiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeee! Yes! Yes!

Y-y-yeeeeeeesssssssssss! Oh God, YES!”

Bad Santa laughed, “I think the pretty little rich bitch has found the

Christmas spirit.”

The elves laughed as Lydia’s shapely, well-endowed body was racked by

another mind blowing orgasm. She bucked, gasped, all the while alternately

wondering if it would ever end, and praying it didn’t.

# # #

Ms Americana arrived at Wade Manor late that evening. Most of the lights

were already off. She rolled into her secret garage and sighed with relief.

It had been a long day, and fruitless. She was no closer to determining

who was kidnapping the young women, much less finding them.

It wasn’t looking good for pretty young women at that moment.

“Oh, well, after a good night’s sleep I’ll start again tomorrow.”

She headed for the elevator to the secret suite of chambers behind her

bedroom suite, her stiletto heels echoing in the dimly lit subterranean

garage. The garage was full. There were a dozen Ameri-bikes – racing

motorcycles custom painted for her and Flag Girl. Four fast sports cars – a

convertible and hard top each for her and Flag Girl with their emblems

painted on them.

The elevator was warm. The carpet was thick and spongy, while the walls

were paneled oak. The secret chamber was four stories up from the garage,

both well hidden. And they weren’t the only hidden chambers and basements

within the sprawling mansion.

In keeping with the season, Christmas carols filled the elevator from

hidden speakers. That meant Lydia was home and had the house stereo going.

Ms Americana smiled, thinking how much Lydia loved this time of year. They

both did. If only she could solve this case then she could relax and enjoy

the season as well.

There were only two stops for the elevator. Secret garage and secret

suite. When the doors opened she stepped out into a lavish chamber filled

with computers, monitors and other surveillance equipment. They could

monitor most of the city from that room, having secretly tied in to the

local Department of Transportation camera network, as well as all the police

and private surveillance networks.

In addition to the electronic equipment, the chamber doubled as a sprawling

closet. One side was Ms Americana’s, the other Flag Girl’s. Extra costumes

where hung up, as well as older versions of hers and Flag Girl’s costumes.

Things changed, like fashion and personal tastes, and so did Ms Americana’s

costume.

First, she checked to ensure Lydia wasn’t in there. Then she headed to her

dressing area, removing her red gauntlet gloves as she went. Sitting on a

silken stool, Ms Americana unzipped and removed her red boots, with the

white stripe up the front and golden stars on the sides. After spending a

long moment massaging her feet and wiggling her toes, she stood up and

walked to the mirror. First thing, she removed the mask. Like the boots,

removing the mask required a moment to rub and massage her face beneath. It

wasn’t easy being a super heroine. Then starting at her earrings, she

started removing her costume. Choker. Bikini top. Bikini bottom.

Brenda Wade revealed.

“Ah, it’s good to be me again,” she said, grinning. In truth, she never

felt more alive than when she was Ms Americana. But Ms Americana couldn’t

relax, while Brenda could and did.

Since it was time to be Brenda, she slipped on a pair of black hose,

attached them to a black lace garter belt, then slipped on a pair of black

stiletto pumps. After donning a lacy white blouse, she put on a charcoal

gray skirt and black belt. As an afterthought, she put the Christmas Angel

around her neck.

And last, but not least, a pair of glasses to complete the disguise.

“Now I look the proper business woman.”

So attired, she returned to the elevator and found her BMW. Driving it

out, she circled around and entered Wade Manor as Brenda after a long, hard

day at the office. Strangely, there was a dark blue, late model van parked

behind Lydia’s cherry red BMW.

Brenda frowned. She didn’t mind Lydia bringing her college friends home,

but under the circumstances with all the missing coeds, she thought Lydia

would show better judgment. After all, they could be called out at any

moment if another clue was discovered.

“We’ll have to discuss this later,” she muttered, entering the front door.

From the squeals and laughter coming from the media room, Lydia and her

friends were having a grand time. She heard the voices of men. They

sounded disgustingly happy and pleased with themselves, too. “This party’s

over.”

Brenda marched straight back to the media room. She pushed open the door

and stalked in.

“What’s going on….in….here…oh my! LYDIA!”

“Get her!” Bad Santa cried.

Two men dressed in green elf costumes charged her. Brenda knew everything

in an instant. The Commons Santa was their leader. The Christmas Angels

had to be some kind of homing device. The little angel still hung from

Lydia’s slender neck, bouncing against her plump, swinging tits as she was

being fucked from behind.

Brenda slugged the first elf, but got gut punched by the second. That

punch doubled her up, sent her glasses skittering across the room and

reminded her she wasn’t wearing her power belt. She wasn’t Ms Americana but

Brenda Wade.

She understood she was in serious trouble.

The first elf rabbit punched her, and then seized her long, black hair. He

then took off running, forcing her to follow, and prompting ran her head

first into the wall. Brenda collapsed at his feet, moaning and groaning.

Taking a long, red Christmas candle off the fireplace mantle, the second

elf rolled her onto her back and jerked her skirt up. Then he brutally

thrust the candle up her cunt.

“Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!” Brenda cried, incredulous. “Stop!”

Two more elves and Santa joined them. An elf seized each arm, holding her

down on the floor spread eagle, with the red candle sticking out of her

aching twat. Then Santa knelt between her legs and took hold of the candle.

“Merry Christmas, Ms Wade,” Bad Santa said. He pulled the candle almost

out, then thrust it in even deeper. “A very merry Christmas for me and my

elves. Ho! Ho! Ho!”

“You monster,” she growled. He pushed the candle even deeper. “Ooooo.”

Brenda struggled weakly. The elves were all strong, burly men. And they

were all staring at her 44DDs, thankfully still covered by her blouse. But

she wasn’t wearing a bra, so they could see her tits swaying and bouncing

under the thin silk blouse.

Cocking her head, she could see Lydia. The poor girl was fucked stupid

already. No telling how long they had been abusing her. Lydia was

vigorously sucking an elf, while her left hand was cupping and stroking the

elf’s balls, and the other hand was holding the base of his long shaft to

keep the cock in her mouth. She was totally lost in the sex.

Brenda could see cum on her face, tits and inner thighs. He clearly wasn’t

the first elf to fuck her that night. Unfortunately, Brenda realized she

wasn’t going to fare any better.

Bad Santa released the candle and moved up her body. He straddled her tiny

waist, sitting. Without ceremony, he ripped open her blouse.

“Whoa, boys, check out the present Brenda Wade gave us!”

“Lord All Mighty!”

“Shhiiiittt!”

“What a set!”

“I’m next!”

“Easy, my evil elves, everyone gets to ride the pretty millionaire

goodie-two-shoe,” Bad Santa said. All the while, he was fondling her

massive tits. He slapped them back and forth a while, then smashed them

together, enjoying the way the always sprang back delightfully. He

repeatedly pinched her large, pink nipples, abusing them until they grew

erect and hard. “But first, I get to titty fuck her.”

“No! How dare you,” Brenda cried. “Do you know who I am?”

“Duh,” Bad Santa said. “Why do you think this is going to be so much fun?”

“Perverts!”

“I don’t think she’s filled with the Christmas Spirit, my evil elves,” Bad

Santa said.

“But she can be, Bad Santa,” an elf said, pulling a ten-inch tall, narrow

Christmas Elf statuette off a mantel.

“Oh no!” Brenda cried, understanding dawning. It was a very phallic

looking elf. Indeed, the Christmas Elf statuette had a mischievous cast to

his face. “NO!”

One of the elves holding her legs was distracted, allowing her to pull her

foot free. She used that free foot to kick Bad Santa away, then kick

herself free of the other three elves. In short order Brenda was on her

feet, pulled the candle out of her twat, and squared off with the evil elf

holding the elven statuette.

“It’ll be a cold day in Hell before I let you molest me again,” Brenda

snarled, blue eyes flashing fire.

“Well, it is dropping below freezing tonight,” Bad Santa said. “And this

is a Hellova bad night for you and your ward, so…”

The statue wielding elf charged, swinging the statuette like a blackjack.

She ducked beneath his swing, but before she could take advantage of his

vulnerability, another elf grabbed her from behind, wrapping strong arms

around her just below her titanic tits and lifting her feet off the floor.

“Ugh!” she cried. Her arms flailed and her feet pedaled trying in vain to

get grounded. “Release me!”

The evil elf before her brought the statuette back, connecting with the

side of her head. She grunted and felt the strength vanish from her body.

Bad Santa stepped in and sent an upper cut to her chin, then a fierce series

of punches to her unprotected belly.

Brenda’s arms and legs suddenly drooped. She had no strength to lift them.

They had beaten it out of her. So the elf set her back on the floor, and

she was forced to all fours. Then the rest of her clothes were ripped off,

leaving her on all fours in nothing but lacy garter belt, black hose and

stiletto pumps.

“Fill her with the Christmas Spirit, Johnny,” Bad Santa said, grinning

fiercely at his defeated prey.

“Please don’t,” Brenda gasped as she knelt on all fours, powerless and so

utterly helpless with pain and humiliation she couldn’t move. Could barely

think. “I’ll do anything you ask. Please.”

“You heard her, Johnny, the rich bitch is BEGGING for it,” Bad Santa said,

and laughed. “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

Bad Santa squatted before Brenda, cupping her face and forcing her to look

him in the eyes. His smug, self-satisfied grin was another knife in the

heart. Then she felt the elf beginning to probe her cunt with the tip of

the wicked elven statuette. She recalled how two years back some of her

girlfriends had remarked on how “phallic” shaped her Christmas statuary all

appeared.

“Uhhhggghhh,” Brenda groaned as the elf’s head was pushed into her vagina.

Her twat muscles immediately clamped down on it, halting its progress, but

intensifying her shameful pleasure. “Ooooooo.”

“Look at how her eyes roll up and close, and her full red lips part every

so slightly, so sexily,” Bad Santa said. “Oh, she’s enjoying this too much.

Ram it home, Johnny.”

“No. Wait, I’ll...Oooooooo, Great Liberty,” she gasped. She felt half the

elf up her twat. He pushed again, and another inch of elf went in.

“Aaiiieeee. Mercy!”

“No mercy for you, you arrogant, big titted rich bitch,” Bad Santa said.

He indicated her magnificent home. “You lived all your life in the lap of

luxury, never giving a second thought to those of us that were poor and

barely got by from paycheck to paycheck. Well, I’ve found a way to get even

with all you snooty women and rich bitches, and make a ton of money doing

it, too. White slavery.”

The ten inch elf was pulled completely out of Brenda’s cunt, to her great

relief. But then it was shoved back in. She gasped and bucked, but the elf

went all the way in this time. She froze in place, unable to breath or

move, as her body tried to adjust to ten inches of carved, painted oak

shoved up her cunt.

Then he pulled it almost out, and pushed it back in. And again. And

again. Soon, her pussy adjusted completely, and the elf was plunging in and

out as the evil elf wielding it hooted with glee. Meanwhile, she felt her

body changing. The original tingle caused by sexual abuse was changing.

Her whole body was infused with warmth.

“Oooo, nooooo,” she cried, feeling her body building toward climax. “Stop

it! Stop it before it is too late.”

The evil elf pushed the statuette all the way in, then started twisting it

back and fourth, like an washing machine agitator deep up her cunt. And

that proved too much for Brenda’s embattled libido to endure.

“Aaaiiiieeeeeee!”

The climax shattered her resolve and left her panting as the evil elf kept

up his maddening use of the statuette. Seconds later, another orgasm

rattled her world, and set the evil elves to crowing with glee.

“The pretty little blonde agrees with you,” Bad Santa said, twisting

Brenda’s head to the side. Forcing her to look at Lydia. “She’s enjoying a

Christmas Santa just as much as you.”

It was worse than that. Lydia was mindlessly fucking the phallic shaped

Santa statuette crammed up her cunt. One of the evil elves was holding the

base of the ten inch tall statuette, while Lydia rode it like a wild bronco.

She was bouncing her rump up and down, with the Christmas Elf statuette

plunging in and out. No one was touching her. No one was making her do it.

They had fucked her ward into becoming a mindless sex machine.

Another orgasm rocked Brenda’s world, sapping out the last of her will

power and strength.

“I am defeated,” she muttered. The elf ramming the statuette up her cunt

suddenly pressed the base against the floor and stopped. The sudden

stopping of stimulation left her feeling empty, so she began emulating

Lydia, bouncing up and down upon the statuette herself. Very soon the sweet

tingle began, starting to build. “I am tamed.”

# # #

Around two in the morning, Brenda lay sprawled face down in her own bed

upstairs. Bad Santa and every one of his evil elves had come up and spend

an hour fucking the shit out of her. In her own bed. She’d answered their

every desire, their every depraved request and demand. Her silk sheets were

soaked in sweat and cum. Her long black hair was plastered to her neck and

back.

The last elf lay atop her. Snoring. His flaccid cock was still up her

asshole. She looked at the bedside clock. Five minutes to two. Bad Santa

would be up to rouse them shortly, and then she would be taken away into

white slavery. Lydia too.

Then it registered. The evil elf was asleep.

I can escape, she thought.

Very carefully, she rolled over and dumped him in the bed beside her. He

never woke up. She smiled, eyeing him narrowly. They would all pay for

what they have done to her and Lydia. And pay dearly.

Brenda eased out of bed and hurried to the secret, hidden door to her

secret room. Once inside, she paused to regroup. It was a terrible defeat.

She had been humbled, and worse, made to enjoy her own sexual abuse.

“I was tamed,” she muttered, anger flaring. “Never again!”

Brenda began to dress in her Ms Americana costume.

While dressing, she watched the internal security monitors. Less than

three minutes after her escape, Bad Santa showed up to discover that escape.

She smiled with a vengeful cast in her eyes as she put on her

star-spangled bikini top.

“I’m ready,” she said, after putting on the shiny gold power belt last.

She felt very little benefit from the power belt. At best, she figured she

was twice her normal strength as Brenda. But as time wore on, she would

gain more and more strength from the belt. “I can’t believe I climaxed so

often.”

Once dolled up as Ms Americana, she took the elevator down to her special

car. Then she left the garage, circled around and drove back up the

driveway and parked behind Brenda’s sports luxury sedan. Within seconds,

she was inside Wade Manor and heading for the Media Room.

As she approached the media room, Ms Americana heard the turmoil within Bad

Santa’s ranks. They were shouting and accusing each other of letting Brenda

escape. Now they were afraid she called 911, and the police would be there

shortly. They had to escape, taking Lydia with them.

“I don’t think so, Bad Santa,” Ms Americana said, assuming her classic

super heroine stance just inside the media room door. She saw Lydia being

held, wild eyed and waiting for her chance to help. “I’m taking you all in

for trafficking in white slavery. So I suggest you surrender quietly, or

suffer the consequences.”

She gave them her fiercest glare. Several of the evil elves blanched. But

Bad Santa shook his head, a grim look upon his aged, bearded face.

“No way we’re surrendering without a fight, Ameri-tits,” Bad Santa said.

Then to the evil elves, “Ok, boys, she’s just one woman. So deck the halls

in Ameri-tits!”

“Men like you just suck the Christmas Spirit right out of me,” Ms Americana

snarled and leapt at them.

Bad Santa and three evil elves charged her. Two elves held tightly onto

Lydia, who was struggling valiantly to escape. Ms Americana was so proud of

her ward and sidekick. Even after hours and hours of mind-numbing sex and

abuse, she was still ready to fight for justice.

Ms Americana darted left, putting a sofa between her and the white slavers.

And it gave her a free shot at the two men holding Lydia. Seeing her

coming, they released Lydia and charged Ms Americana, as she had hoped.

“Run, Miss Lydia,” Ms Americana cried. “Call the police while I take care

of these miscreants.”

Ms Americana met the two elves then. She kicked the first in the head,

then grabbed the arm of the second. She began spinning him around and

released him at the other three elves, bowling them down. About that time

Lydia cried out in anger, for Bad Santa had cut her off at the door and was

struggling with her.

“Release that poor girl, you heartless miscreant,” Ms Americana cried,

charging.

Bad Santa cried out and darted out the door. Ms Americana followed, filled

with vengeance. She would teach him a lesson in respect for women before

the police arrived. She heard Lydia running behind her, her bare feet

slapping on the hardwood floors. But she didn’t hear the elf that was

following Lydia.

“Stop and fight like a man, Bad Santa,” Ms Americana cried. She stopped

and looked around. He wasn’t in the Great Room. She listened, but didn’t

hear anything. Suddenly, she felt sick. They were all escaping! “Bad

Santa, you can’t escape me!”

She heard the van start up. Charging through the front door, she jumped in

front of the van. Bad Santa was in the driver seat, gawking at her open

mouthed.

“You can’t escape me, Bad Santa,” she said. “Surrender, or else!”

“I chose or else!” he said, and gunned the engine, driving straight at Ms

Americana.

Ms Americana leapt as high as she could, got caught by the windshield. A

second later he crashed through the huge front window and Ms Americana flew

through into the Great Room.

# # #

Lydia raced upstairs, tits flopping and bouncing all over the place. She

silently vowed never to run naked again. Within seconds she was inside her

bedroom suite, and pushing the hidden button that opened the entrance to the

secret room.

“Hurry,” she groaned when it felt like the hydraulic door was taking too

long. “Ms Americana needs my help.”

Lydia understood Ms Americana couldn’t defeat Bad Santa and his evil elves

alone. They’d both been beaten down by intense, ceaseless sex for untold

hours and hours. Neither of their power belts would give them full

strength, so it would take both of them together to defeat the wicked white

slavers.

So, Lydia very quickly pulled on her red boots, red opera gloves and blue

choker. Then she wiggled into her very tight, red and white stripped micro

mini, and star-spangled tube top. That done, she pulled her long blonde

tresses back into her “Flag Girl” ponytail and bangs look, then put on the

blue mask that covered the upper portion of her face.

“Ah, Flag Girl, you are greatly needed tonight,” she said to her

reflection, grinning. Then her grin turned nasty as she hurried back toward

the secret door back into her room. “I will have my vengeance, and justice

will prevail.”

# # #

Johnny followed the pretty blonde coed. He wasn’t going to let Lydia

escape like Larry let Brenda Wade escape. No sir! Hell, who knew, she

might even lead him to Brenda as well. And while his comrades battled Ms

Americana, he would sweep the lovely ladies away for carnal merriment and

profit.

He followed her upstairs, and watched as she slipped inside a door. Johnny

opened that door just in time to see Lydia slip inside a secret door in her

closet. That door closed with a hydraulic hiss before he could reach it.

Looking around for the button, he began pushing and prodding everything

within sight. He was determined to get inside and catch Lydia and Brenda.

“Well, this explains how Brenda Wade escaped while locked in her own

bedroom,” Johnny said. “We should’ve realized a spooky old mansion like this

had secret rooms and tunnels.”

While examining the edges of the door, so cunningly hidden within the cedar

paneling, her heard stiletto foot steps inside the door, coming closer. So

he moved back, hiding within the hanging clothes, and waited to jump the

young twit when she returned.

The door opened, and Flag Girl came out. He was stunned into

motionlessness. She paused only to press a button hidden in the closet door

jamb, then raced away.

Compelled, he hurried over to the hidden button and pressed it. The door

hissed open and he hurried through. Inside, he stopped and stared in

shocked and delighted surprise.

“Oh my God, Brenda Wade is Ms Americana, and Lydia is Flag Girl,” he

muttered.

He checked out the computers. The monitors. Even watched as his cohorts

battled Ms Americana and Flag Girl, and barely held their own.

“If they knew the truth, then they wouldn’t be so afraid of them,” he said,

grinning evilly.

# # #

Ms Americana groaned and rolled onto her back. Numerous little cuts

covered her shapely body and began to sting. But at least she was alive and

in one piece.

“Bastard,” she groaned as she staggered to her feet. “You will pay dearly

for that, too.”

“There she is!”

Glancing over her shoulder, Ms Americana saw the rest of the elves charging

her. Bad Santa was crawling out of the wreckage, glaring daggers at her.

“Five to one,” she said, sizing them up. She thought, maybe, just maybe,

her strength was up to three times normal. Of course, the long hard fucking

of the last eight plus hours, and the latest beaten she took from the van

sapped so much of her strength. “Going to be interesting.”

Turning, Ms Americana raced out of the Great Room and around a corner. The

elves hooped and hollered in triumph and followed closely. But she wasn’t

running away, just laying a trap. As soon as she rounded the corner, Ms

Americana stopped and flattened herself against the wall. She heard the

evil elves charging after her. Four of them.

Ms Americana let the first three pass unmolested, but stepped out and

clotheslined the fourth elf. He hit the floor clutching at his injured

throat as the other three came to a startled halt. She smiled and raced

around the corner.

“Bad Santa!” she cried. “Where are you hiding, coward!”

“Right here,” he said, stepping out from behind an antique cabinet. She

was running pell-mell, and couldn’t stop or turn. He punched her in the gut

and doubled her up. “Have some Christmas PUNCH, Ameri-Tits!”

He kicked her left tit. Ms Americana cried out, clutching at the abused

mammary as she rolled away. Rolling to her feet, she was surprised by the

arrival of the other elves. One of them punched her in the face, sending

her stumbling back into Bad Santa’s arms.

Bad Santa groped her titanic tits, and then punched her in the face,

sending her stumbling back to the elves. Then one of the elves came up

behind her, slipped his arms under hers and pulled them back. Another elf,

the one called Larry, stepped up and punched her once, twice, three times in

the stomach. Then he was pushed aside by Bad Santa, who promptly kneed her

in the groin.

“Oops,” he said, chuckling. “I guess you know why I’m called Bad Santa

now, heh?”

“Fuck you,” she muttered.

“You will,” he said. “Oh, yes, you will fuck us all, Ameri-tits, before

it’s all over and we sell you into white slavery.”

“Not today, STUPID Santa,” Flag Girl said. “You have to defeat me first

before you are allowed to deliver that present!”

Flag Girl stood behind Bad Santa and his elves in the classic super heroine

stance. She never looked more beautiful, more commanding than she did at

that moment. In Ms Americana’s opinion, anyways.

While the white slavers were distracted, stunned, Ms Americana head-butted

Bad Santa and stomped down on the foot of the elf holding her. Her sharp

stiletto heel driving into his foot ripped a primal scream from his throat

as he released her. That scream startled them all, and made them jump back.

“We have them now, Flag Girl!” she cried, lunging at Bad Santa. She caught

him by the beard, then used it to spin and hurl him into the smashed up

grill of the van. “I enjoyed smashing into that so much, I thought you

should be giving the same opportunity. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I

did, miscreant.”

“Get them, my evil elves,” Bad Santa croaked out.

Together, Ms Americana and Flag Girl cut off their escape routes and

started herding the hapless white slavers into one corner. The fight was

beaten out of them now. They didn’t think they could fight two super

heroines.

“What’s going on?” an elf said from the Great Room door. He was leering at

the two super heroines. His mocking voice was full of contempt. “You’re

not afraid of THEM, are you?”

“Duh, it’s Ms Americana and Flag Girl, moron,” Larry said.

“Yes, that’s true,” he said. Then he held up several Flag Girl costumes in

one hand, and several Ms Americana costumes in the other. “But we’ve

already defeated them both once tonight. Brenda Wade is Ms Americana, and

Lydia is Flag Girl. I followed Lydia up to their secret changing room, full

of Flag Girl and Ms Americana paraphernalia.”

“You’re right,” Bad Santa said, standing up on wobbly legs. “Brenda and Ms

Americana are the same size, and have the same black hair. And Lydia and

Flag Girl are the same too. Look at them!”

“You’re wrong,” Ms Americana said, suddenly stricken with fear and dread.

“Accusing two innocent women of that will only get them killed by vengeful

crime lords and such.”

Both super heroines took a couple steps back. Confused and frightened,

they didn’t know what to do.

“If you turn us into the police, then we’ll tell everyone what we know,”

Bad Santa said, stepping towards them.

Ms Americana, her mind reeling, staggered back another step. She saw the

evil elves spread out, and encircle them. Flag Girl shared a dismal,

disbelieving look with her.

Ms Americana stepped back another step, and bumped into an elf. He punched

her in the kidney and shoved her at Bad Santa. In the next instant, Flag

Girl’s long blonde ponytail was seized, and she was yanked backwards. Her

top was ripped off and she was shoved across the circle, to land in the arms

of another elf. Meanwhile, Ms Americana stumbled and fell to her knees

before Bad Santa.

Bad Santa kicked Ms Americana in the face, grabbed her long, black hair and

pulled her to all fours. Then he reached down and unfastened her power

belt.

“No!” she cried. Reaching for Bad Santa, “Give that back!”

“Hold her down,” he said.

Ms Americana again found herself on all fours and held down. Despair

flooded her emotions. Now, she understood she was soundly, and surely

caught. There would be no escape this time.

Ms Americana and Flag Girl were doomed.

“Bring Flag Twit over here,” Bad Santa said. “And remove her power belt,

you morons.”

Flag Girl was forced onto all four in front of Ms Americana, face to face.

Ms Americana found herself nose to nose with her ward and sexy sidekick.

Then the elves ripped off her bikini, and Flag Girl’s micro mini, leaving

both in nothing but gloves, chokers, boots and masks.

“Time for a Christmas Special, don’t you think?” Bad Santa said, filled

with wicked glee.

“What do you mean?” Ms Americana said.

“I was thinking about some hot, girl-on-girl action,” he said to wild

cheers from the evil elves. “Or, should I say, super heroine on super

heroine action?”

“You pig!” Ms Americana cried.

“Pervert!” Flag Girl said.

“Oh, really? You don’t want to cooperated?”

“Never! We’ll never do your perverted bidding, Bad Santa,” Ms Americana

snarled. “And know, you will not get away with this. Justice will prevail,

and we will have our day.”

“Oh, but you are sadly mistaken, Ms Ameri-Twit,” he said.

With that, Bad Santa folded the shiny golden power belt and raised it high

above his head. Ms Americana’s eyes went wide. She never imagined such a

thing. And the belt swung down.

CRACK!

“Oh!”

And CRACK! went Flag Girl’s power belt across the teen super heroine’s

shapely white hiney.

CRACK! CRACK!

CRACK! CRACK!

“Kiss!” Bad Santa demanded, swinging the wicked belt again. CRACK!

“Kiss!”

“Okay!” they cried in unison.

“Please stop!” Ms Americana cried, tears flowing freely down across her

blue star-spangled mask and cheeks. “Great Liberty, have mercy!”

“You’re hurting me,” Flag Girl wailed. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“You’ll both be good little girls?” Bad Santa asked, eyes full of wicked

glee.

“Yes.”

“Then start kissing each other,” he said. “And make it hot, too.”

Both vanquished super heroines licked their full lips and swallowed hard.

Ms Americana’s lips parted slightly, as her head tilted to the right. Flag

Girl followed suit, and both leaned forward.

“Mmmmm,” Ms Americana groaned as their red lips melted into each other.

Flag Girl’s lips were full, firm and warm. She enjoyed the greasy feel of

their shared lipstick kiss, and pushed into it. “MMmmmmmmm.”

“I knew they were secretly a couple of bi-sexual sluts,” Bad Santa said,

grinning. He reached down and pinched Ms Americana’s erect nipple. “Boy,

is she hard.”

“And she’s wet, too,” Johnny said, messaging her twat.

“So is Flag Slut here,” Larry said, finger fucking Flag Girl.

Soon, both Johnny and Larry mounted the super heroines and fucked them long

and hard while everyone watched Ms Americana and Flag Girl kiss and suck on

each others lips.

It felt sooo, terribly good. Ms Americana couldn’t believe how easy it was

to obey their wicked sexual demands. And Flag Girl kissed so sweetly, so

deliciously. Never had she savored a set of lips, enjoyed kissing, so much

as now.

Ms Americana pushed her tongue into Flag Girl’s eager mouth, toying,

teasing. Flag Girl responded enthusiastically.

“Mmmmmm,” they groaned.

The elf fucking her was the best endowed of the group, with a cock

bordering a solid foot. And he was using every inch of it too.

The elf had his own unique stroke. Rammed home, all the way in, hard and

fast, then slowly out until only the head was inside her, then slam it home

again. Over and over. Ceaseless. Like the waves in the ocean.

Merciless.

He’s cock whipping me into submission, she thought. No woman could endure

this and not be broken. Great Liberty, I’m doomed.

The thought was too much for her libido. The near constant tingling she

now endured turned into that soul searing rush to orgasm. She felt her body

start to buck, even as her twat muscles squeezed and quivered. And Flag

Girls too talented lips and tongue stoked her libido far past endurance.

Ms Americana surrendered to the inevitable, the inescapable.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

Flag Girl quickly followed, with her own screaming orgasm. And they each

endured another three orgasm before the elves abusing their pussies shot

their loads deep inside them.

Once all the elves and Bad Santa had taken a turn fucking one of the super

heroines’ doggie style, Bad Santa sat in a chair and made Ms Americana crawl

to him. With his cock out and erect, he made her kiss it. A long,

lingering kiss.

“Now, as I recall before bad ole Brenda Wade escaped, I was about to

titty-fuck you,” he said. “But instead of me titty-fucking you, you are

going to titty-fuck ME. Ho! Ho! Ho!”

“Anything you want, Santa,” Ms Americana breathed, exhausted.

The defeated and defiled super heroine moved up close between Bad Santa’s

wide spread legs. She paused to cup and lightly squeeze his balls, then

lightly racked her fingers across the scrotum. Then, seeing he was fully

erect, she grabbed her own tits and pulled them wide. Moving her 44DDs to

either side of his cock, she pressed them together and started stroking him

with silky soft, firm breasts.

“Oh, yes!” he cried.

She titty-fucked Bad Santa for a good five minutes before she felt his cock

stiffening even more. She increased her speed. He gasped and clutched at

her silky black hair.

“Oh, yeah,” she breathed.

“I’m fucking Ms Americana’a giant titties!” Bad Santa cried. “I’ve

defeated and tamed the mightiest super heroine of them all!” He gasped, and

suddenly hot cum strayed her neck and tits. “The Queen of Justice is tamed

and claimed! By me!”

After he stopped cumming, Santa made her lick his cock clean. Then he

called Flag Girl over to lick the cum off her mentor’s tits and neck, which

made Ms Americana cum again. Afterwards, he had Ms Americana roll over onto

her back and spread her legs wide. Then Flag Girl was positioned over her,

cum dripping blonde twat over Ms Americana’s hungry mouth.

“Now, 69 each other,” Bad Santa commanded.

The defeated super heroines didn’t hesitate. They started licking and

sucking each other’s sloppy pussies with wild abandon. The taste was like

Christmas candy on Ms Americana’s tongue, and to feel Flag Girl’s sexy,

shapely body react to what she was doing with lips, tongue and fingers sent

a thrill to her overheated body.

Flag Girl lost herself in Ms Americana’s pussy very quickly. Within

seconds, she understood she’d wanted this for years.

Ms Americana used the gloved fingers on one hand to spread Flag Girl’s

pussy lips, then pushed the index finger from the other hand up her

sidekick’s tight asshole. Then, she started licking Flag Girl’s clit with

firm, circular motions.

Flag Girl gasped and groan, even bucked a little. Then she started doing

the same to Ms Americana. The two sex crazed women quickly brought each

other to climaxes, and redoubled their efforts. They ate each other out

until the orgasms wore them out, and they passed out in exhaustion.

Bad Santa rolled Flag Girl off Ms Americana. He pulled off Flag Girl’s

mask, revealing Lydia, as expected. Then he removed Ms Americana’s mask.

He then hung both masks on the Christmas Tree, as well as their costumes.

Ms Americana and Flag Girl were hogtied and ball-gagged, and tossed naked

into the back of the van. Next to a gorgeous redhead, a strawberry blonde

and brunette twins also hogtied and ball-gagged. Then Bad Santa and his

elves went through the mansion and looted it of all easily hawked valuables,

especially Brenda’s and Lydia’s spectacular jewelry boxes.

Finally, they opened both doors into the secret Americana room, for the

authorities to find. Soon, the whole world would know the truth, but they’d

never see their beloved Ms Americana and Flag Girl again. Or Brenda Wade

and Lydia Willis, for that matter.

As they were driving away from Wade Manor, Bad Santa addressed his evil

elves, who were in the back molesting their captives.

“My evil elves, this is a Very Merry Ameri-Christmas, indeed!”

THE END