DO NOT READ IT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 OR EASILY OFFENDED BY SEXUAL MATERIAL, BONDAGE, DISCIPLINE OR OTHER NON-CONSENTUAL SEXUAL SITUATIONS. ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE AT LEAST 18 YEARS OF AGE. WARNING: DRUGS, CHEMICALAS, AND CHLOROFORM ARE DANGEROUS, PATICULARLY WHEN YOU MIX THEM. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, AND ONLY DOCTORS CAN PRESCRIBE DRUGS OR ADMINISTER ANESTHESIA, SO DON’T DO IT. ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTIONAL.

 

Ms Americana and Flag Girl are the creation of Mr. X and I thank him for his drawings and stories which serve as my inspiration…

 

FLAG GIRL: ACTION FIGURE part II by DOLLMAN

 

Flag Girl was no longer sure what time it was: night or day?  She had no idea.  Having been, most of the last few days (or was it weeks) locked in a dark, smelly box, in strict bondage she had lost track of the days.  She had also been drugged by her young captor making her groggy and unable to focus.  She did not know whether she slept during the day or night, or if she slept that much at all. Was this a dream or real, sometimes she did not know. She was constantly hungry and thirsty.  The kid fed her sometimes, not a lot, like he enjoyed the control. She begged him for water, every time he removed her gag, she begged him, but he never gave her enough, she was always dying of thirst.  It was almost like he gave her just enough, just enough food and water to stay healthy, alive, but not enough that she wasn’t uncomfortable. Was he trying to break her will?  If he was it was starting to work!

 

God?!!!!  Who was this kid, still in high school probably, who had captured her last week, or was it three weeks ago?  How was he so smart, so clever to have caught her and avoided the police? Who was this, this boy, who had used her sexually, forced her to perform vile acts, and pleasure him with her mouth?  He had even forced her to orgasm, several times. She even enjoyed the sex sometimes. He had fucked her again and again, abused her breasts? And, who that night, had done something no man had ever done to her, taken her from behind, in her ass, and fucked her asshole till it ached. It still hurt lying there in the dark, she ached all over, tired, thirsty, often delirious with a combination of pain, hunger and fear.

 

She felt so gross, so ashamed, so humiliated.  Sometimes the kid would wash her with a sponge, and clean her costume, but she still did not feel clean.  It had been so long since she showered, disgusting, and the sex, the gross sex! But sometimes she enjoyed it, right? NO. It was rape…right?  When would it end? Flag Girl did not know how much more she could take.  She had tried to talk to this kid, reason with him, but he just wanted to play with her, play with her like some toy he kept in a box in his bedroom.  She wasn’t a person anymore, not a young girl, not even the super heroine Flag Girl, she was an object, like a plastic doll that a child played with when ever he wanted and put away when he was done.

 

Who was he!!!????  How did he capture her so easily, oh that’s right the criminal she had tried to capture that night, right? What was he stealing, how long ago was that? People were looking for her, certainly her hero and mentor Ms. Americana, the police too. They would find her. They had to; she had to be rescued soon. But what if nobody came, what if the kid forgot about her in the box, she would die in the box, die of thirst and hunger, rot in this damn box! No, she could be nice to him, he wouldn’t hurt her more, maybe he would let her go soon, he liked her…he had given her pleasure too, no it was rape, she was his prisoner and he was evil. Still, sometimes it was o.k.…sometimes he was even nice…

 

She struggled to move in the dark crate again, no use.  Her wrists and ankles hurt from the ropes: she was almost always tied up. Her mouth was often gagged and dry. This kid knew how to tie her up, that was for sure, he was probably a boy scout! She tried to laugh at her joke, but instead she just began to cry. She cried often, she was giving up hope, and losing her mind.  When would this end, when would she be free? Where, she began to cry, where was she? And more importantly where was her mentor, her savior, her friend, Ms. Americana? Why hadn’t she come, didn’t she care about her anymore?

 

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At that very moment billionaire Brenda Wade, also known as Ms. American, queen of Justice, protector of Delta City, was in her downtown office on the top floor of Wade Tower. It was just before dawn on Friday morning, she had been up all night, but Ward was tireless in her search for Flag Girl.  She was worried, worried for her friend and her protégé Flag Girl. She was also worried for Lydia Wills, because, of course, Lydia was Flag Girl and in real life Brenda Wade’s 20 year old ward. Lydia was also a college student at Delta University who had not been to class in two weeks.  Brenda had spoke with the administrator and told them Lydia would be in Europe skiing for a few weeks, a good excuse for Lydia’s absence. She would not be missed.  She couldn’t risk someone making the connection, if a pretty young blonde co-ed was reported missing at the same time a pretty young blonde super heroine was also being searched for someone might question the coincidence. No, there was no reason for the police to search for Ms. Wills now. Ms. Americana would find Flag Girl, and thus Brenda would rescue Lydia.

 

In her endless efforts to find Flag Girl these last two weeks Ms. Americana was now reviewing digital video from surveillance cameras placed at the many buildings and warehouses she owned throughout Delta City.  So far, after watching hours of video, she had found nothing, not a trace of Flag Girl.  She switched to a different file, a different video, this one from a warehouse Ms. Americana had asked her protégé Flag Girl to stake out two weeks ago. There had been a series of burglaries of high tech electronic equipment and precious metals and diamonds all across the city.  Wade/Ms. Americana was concerned that the local Russian Mob was selling the computer equipment, and more importantly, the precious metals to a terrorist organization in the Middle East. 

 

It wasn’t well known, unless you built them, or sold the parts to build them as Wade Industries did, but one of the trickiest and most complicated parts of nuclear bombsare its triggers. It was easy to build a bomb, but to make it go off, particularly to make it go off safely without blowing yourself up, you need to have the proper detonator or trigger.  And, only a very high current fast-rise “pulse” can successfully trigger them.  The wiring for these triggers had to be either very highly pure gold or platinum.  And those were exactly the types of metals that had been taken, including a theft exactly two weeks ago at one Wade’s own warehouses.

 

This was the very warehouse video Brenda Wade now watched.  Again, nothing…wait there she was, she saw her, Flag Girl, at one of her suburban warehouse.  Flag Girl was crouched, near one of the doors, obviously waiting, but for whom?  Then he came out, a large man, with a ski mask, dressed all in black, carrying a large black bag. The bag appeared heavy and he had it slung over his shoulder.  Was this the man who had captured Flag Girl?  She continued to watch the tape, anxious, waiting to see what would happen.  Flag Girl sprung up surprising the burglar. He threw the bag at Flag Girl and then Wade saw her attack, but then, damn, the fight left the frame, there was nothing on the tape. Ms. American kept watching but she saw nothing. Flag Girl and the thief did not return to the area by the door. She watched, and watched, nothing.  Wait! The man returned grabbed the bag, and swung it, no? It wasn’t clear, he was gone.  But where was Flag Girl?  She checked the time and date stamp, last Thursday morning, the week before last, just after midnight.  She quickly rewound and fast forwarded the entire video, till almost dawn, and nobody and nothing appeared. Was Flag Girl in the hands of this thief, or worse, the local Russian mob?  Damn!

 

She checked the video from the interior and another exterior camera, but there was just the criminal cracking one of her safes, stealing the gold and platinum bars and leaving.  No Flag Girl. Where had she gone, what had this fiend done with her? Or had she gone after him and then been caught? There was no way to know, but at least it was a place to start, it was Wade’s first and only clue.  And she, or rather her alter ego Ms. American, would now investigate.  Where ever Flag Girl was, Ms. Americana would not rest until she found her and now she had a location to begin a search!

 

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Jack had come home Thursday night, waited for him mom to go to sleep, and then removed his Flag Girl from her box. It had been almost two weeks since he, a young kid, a high school student, had captured the great Flag Girl. He had used and abused her body, fucking her whenever he had the chance…and it was great! It was time again, time for sex and all day in school and since he had gotten home he had planned on what he would do tonight.  It was time for a new kind of sex for him, the stuff of his fantasies and porno films, anal sex! 

 

He opened the box and looked at her. She blinked her eyes, the light bothered them he guessed. She did spend a lot of time in that dark box. She looked at him. It was no longer a defiant stare, which had gone the weekend before his mom had come home.  She looked at him plaintively, begging with her eyes.  He removed her gag.  “Please, please water, please you have to give me water” she moaned.  “O.K., here you go…” Jack said pulling out a water bottle and squeezing some of its contents into her mouth. She drank heartily. And when he stopped she begged for more. “No,” Jack said, “you get more later, more if you behave yourself tonight, because I have something special in mind for our love making tonight”.  And before she could respond he put the gag back in her mouth. “Sorry, Flag Girl, but with what is going to happen tonight I can’t have you making any noise!”

 

After replacing her gag he pulled the still bound Flag Girl out of her box.  It was his nightly ritual since a week ago Monday when he had returned to school after a weekend of endless sex with Flag Girl. He had to be careful with his mom home, but she noticed nothing, heard nothing.  She was at work all day, and he drugged Flag Girl anyway to make sure she stayed quiet.  Flag Girl did not know anyone else was around, what house she was in, where she was, she might have yelled out, on the rare occasion she was un-gagged. if she did know, but Jack was sure his mom either would not notice the yelling or he could easily explain the noise as the TV, one of his horror/Sci-fil movies he often watched, or even his X-Box. No, nobody was going to notice he had a super heroine tied up in a box in his room. Who would have dreamed of such a thing, who would even think to look for her here?

 

He placed Flag Girl on his bed.  She knew sex was coming and she tried to struggle a little, it was an almost automatic gesture. She knew she couldn’t get free. Without her power belt, in her weakened state, she knew she was going anywhere. He flipped her on her stomach, this was unusual. He quickly untied her arms making sure he straddled her back. He tied each hand to a length of rope tied to the headboard, he then she untied her ankles and knees, pulled off her panties, leaving her skirt, and tied her legs to the legs of the base of the bed. Flag Girl was now spread eagle, tied face down on Jack’s bed. She squirmed and protested, this wasn’t her usual position and maybe she knew what was coming! He lifted the back of her skirt and just stared, stared at that perfect ass.  He wanted it.

 

The days and days of sex, even for an inexperienced kid like Jack, had taught him a lot.  He lasted longer and longer with his Flag Girl.  Jack had learned to control his ejaculation and he could hold out for a while now.  It was great. Jack also started to think that Flag Girl enjoyed it too, he wasn’t sure but he knew she had orgasms and often felt pleasure. He was no longer the dopey virgin of two weeks ago, he had the teen queen, Flag Girl, again and again, in every way, well almost every way, but he would remedy that soon.

 

He quickly undid his pants and whipped out his cock. Jack was proud of it, now that he knew how to use it right. His dick was hard, really hard, hell a teenager like him gets hard just thinking about a hot babe like Flag Girl, and to have her here, right in front of him, helpless before him, it was incredible.  Man, what an ass, Jack thought.  Flag Girl continued to squirm beneath him, she was trying to say something through the gag, but who could tell what she was saying, and who cared.  He did almost want to take off her gag, hear her moan and complain, and maybe scream when he entered her ass, but mom was home and he couldn’t risk it.

 

Jack grabbed some baby lotion from his nightstand, he figured, correctly, that Flag Girl would be tight back there. He positioned himself behind her, rubbed some oil on his rock hard member, and entered her, hard.  He had gravity and leverage working for him and his entire cock entered into her asshole, he could hardly believe it.  Flag Girl moaned: “NNNNNNMMMMMMMMMMMMM”.  He figured it hurt, and he was right, he started to pound her, back and fourth, what a ride! Her tight little ass was quivering, she kept moaning beneath the gag, he thought he heard “please no, stop…get it out…” but who know.  She was his, all his…he kept it up, back and forth in and out, in and out, what an ass! Jack reached around and grabbed one of Flag Girl’s breasts squeezing it hard, she moaned and whined.  Up and down, up and down, he rammed his cock deep in her ass.

This was too good.  He didn’t last as long as he had hoped, not as long as the last time he fucked her pussy, but the squirming beneath him, the feel of her quivering body was just too much, he could hold out.  He came, hard, spewing his hot jizz into her asshole. He continued to pump, finally pulling out on the last stroke, he watched his white cum dripping out of her asshole, my god what a ride that was!

 

Jack got up and grabbed a towel to wipe his dick off.  Flag Girl just laid on his bed, quivering, sweating, moaning softly. She was breathing hard, obviously spent, in pain (and pleasure?), tired. He touched her face and saw her eyes were full of tears, her cheeks were red (both sets!).  He felt a little bad, but what the hell, she got caught, she was the dumb blonde super heroine who went to that warehouse alone, she was just getting what any super heroine deserved when they were caught. Too bad for her, but still he had feeling for her, he didn’t want her hurt, he loved his action figure.  Jack was tired, exhausted even. He was supposed to go to school tomorrow, and he needed some sleep.  But he still had work to do, important work.

First Jack untied and retied Flag Girl, replacing her panties and straightening her skirt, he then sat her upright on his bed with her hands now tied behind her back and her legs retied at the ankles only hanging over the bed.  He was always careful to retie, no reason to take chances, even though right now she looked unable to put up much of a resistance.  Almost 14 days of sex and abuse, drugs, little food and water, and no power belt, had left Flag Girl a shell of the super heroine he had seen fighting the crook by the warehouse.  Even if he did untie her Jack figured she wouldn’t run, she might just collapse in her wakened state. He took off her gag.  She said nothing, just looked down ashamed, humiliated.  He got her some water and she drank, anxiously.  He then fed her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  She ate that too, she was obviously hungry. “Thank you” she said weakly. She sounded sincere. Some more water and back the gag went on.  She didn’t even protest or resist, what was the point Jack figured, she knew there was no escape and if she gave him trouble there may be even less food and water and worse treatment.  Besides, he figured she was, like any prisoner beginning to identify with her captor.  He was Flag Girl’s whole world. He fed her, decided when she was in the box and when not; he took her to the bathroom. It was the Stockholm syndrome: a hostage identifying with her hostage taker. Clearly, Flag Girl was beginning to lose her will, succumb to her captor, and Jack knew it. He retied her hands and legs.

 

He lifted her up and put her back in the box.  Again, she squirmed a bit, but the resistance was token at best.  He shut the top, latched it and slid it back under his bed with the rest of his action figure toys, perfect, just perfect.  Jack was tired, but again he had work to do.  He knew still that he had to have a better way to control Flag Girl and he also wanted to be ready if any “rescuers” especially a certain star spangled bikini wearing one named Ms. Americana, showed up. Sure it wasn’t that likely, but she was a super heroine, presumably smart, and eventually she might find him. It had been two weeks of almost constant news, a reward from that hot rich chick, Brenda Wade, and he knew the authorities were still looking. Like the Boy Scout he used to be, Jack had to be prepared, just in case.

 

Two weeks had given him time, time to access the internet and more importantly his school lab and computer.  He had made chloroform, or at least a primitive version. He wanted to test it, but he would wait. He also had taken plenty of Valium, Vicodin, and sleeping pills from his mom.  At first he was worried she would find out, but she didn’t even notice, she had quite the stash.  They worked too, kept Flag Girl asleep when he was away and made sure nobody, especially his mom, discovered his prisoner.

 

The chloroform he made from a recipe he found in a medical text at school. He liked the idea of more quickly knocking out his prisoner, especially in an emergency. It hadn’t happened yet, but how long before his mother knocks on his door, insisting on seeing him for some dumb reason. He wanted to knock Flag Girl out quick.  Plus he could keep the fumes, from a bottle or rag, in the crate itself if he had to, keeping her out.  Jack was worried about killing her, how much to use, but he had to try.  He quickly removed the crate and opened the box.  Flag Girl seemed surprised, usually after he “used her” he left her in there for a while, or maybe she was excited, more food or water?  No.  A test.  He grabbed his bottle of chloroform and wet a rag, careful to keep it away from his own nose and face.  How many stories on the internet, how many comic books had he read, where the villain used chloroform to render a super heroine unconscious?  Lots, so he knew what he wanted to do.  He applied the moist rag to Flag Girls face, she looked scared, maybe she recognized the smell, surely this wasn’t her first chloroforming!

 

As Jack held the rag over her face Flag Girl’s eyes rolled back in her head. How cool was this! Her eyes fluttered, she moaned a little, and then she was out.  He quickly removed the rag and waited.  She was unconscious, out like a light.  He checked her breathing, it was labored but strong, she was o.k.  Success! The chloroform worked, and Jack knew it would come in handy.  He closed his Flag Girl “toy box”, re-latched it, and replaced it under his bead.  He would check before he went to sleep, Jack was curious how long his home made knock out gas would last.  He wasn’t sure, but he was pretty sure he might need it, and soon.

 

The next morning Jack got up late. Damn. Late for school.  He ran downstairs and noticed immediately his mom was gone.  No note, no breakfast, nothing. That was fine, if she didn’t care if he had gotten up and gone to school why should he? Plus, it was Friday, the perfect day to ditch and who would notice, not his classmates, not many teachers, what the hell, a day home alone with his Flag Girl! This would be great.

 

The night before Jack, right before he went to bed he had, as he planned, checked on the unconscious Flag Girl. Opening the lid he pinched her nipples, slapped her cheeks, grabbed her ass, no she was out.  His chloroform had worked, maybe too well. But that morning when he opened the box she was awake, groggy, but awake.  Her eyes were half opened and he gave her quick slap and she seemed to respond. Good.  He took off her gag and gave her some orange juice from a water bottle, she drank it, spilling some on chin, but she drank. She was o.k.  He then fed her some toast, again she seemed grateful.

 

So, what now, sex or…or…sex!  How would have here this morning Jack thought to himself as his bulge grew in pants. Sure it was only a little after 9 a.m. but he was horny.  As he was considering the ways he was going to have his Flag Girl he was shocked to here the door bell.  The door bell!  Who the fuck was there.  Had his mom forgotten her keys?  A delivery? Nahh he wasn’t expecting something and it was pretty early for UPS or the mailman. He quickly grabbed the chloroform bottle re-wet the rag and put the protesting Flag Girl out. Better safe then sorry, who knew who was at his door? He then quickly shoved the box under his box and headed downstairs.

 

He went right to the front door. Who could it be?  He didn’t immediately open the door, no, Jack looked out the peephole and froze! He then did a double take, he couldn’t believe it.  Ms. American, queen of justice, Delta City’s greatest super heroine was at his door.  He really could not believe it but there she was:  Tall, raven haired, in that great costume, cape, breasts bulging out of that the star spangled bikini.  He couldn’t see her from the waist down, but he assumed she had on that great bikini thong and those amazing red high boots. O.K., Jack thought, don’t panic, what to do? Maybe if he didn’t answer the door she would go away, but she would come back, maybe with help.  Could Ms. Americana know he had her protégé Flag Girl tied-up and locked in a box under his bed? Nahhh…if she did she wouldn’t be ringing the bell he was sure of that, she would have burst into the house, maybe with a dozen police officers or maybe just alone, smashing down doors to rescue her friend. 

 

No. Ms. Americana did not know where she was, but she must be looking for her Jack figured.  He acted impulsively, maybe it was a mistake, but he opened the door and said “hi, hi Ms. Americana, wow it is really you, what are you doing here?” It was really her, red stiletto boots, French style bikini bottoms, tiara, red gloves, red-star earrings.  She did look great. Just like her action figure doll he had upstairs.  She was a real super heroine.

“Oh, hello young man, I need your help…” Ms. Americana needs my help Jack thought, your damn right you do.  “I am investigating a crime, a possible kidnapping…I assume you know who Flag Girl is?”  “Yes, of course, I am big fan of you and Flag Girl, you guys are great!” Jack told her, truthfully, “I hear she is missing…”

 

“That is why I am here young man; I have…information…that she may have been in this area before she disappeared. I was hoping that someone had maybe seen her, saw what happened?” “Gee…”Jack said, I haven’t seen her around here…why would she be here?”  “That isn’t your concern. Tell me boy” she was a bit condescending, arrogant, that bugged Jack “does this house overlook the alley by that nearby warehouse?” She pointed towards the large warehouse behind Jack’s home.

 

“Yes, yes it does, my room actually overlooks that alley between our house and that warehouse.” Jack told her. “Interesting” she replied “I’d like to ask you some more questions, may I come in?”  “Wow” Jack said, trying to be overly solicitous “Ms. Americana, the Ms. Americana in my house, sure come in!”

 

Ms. American hesitated: “Are your parent’s home? Are you sure it is o.k. to talk to you?” Jack answered, telling the truth “It is just me and my mom and she is at work.” A little sympathy? Jack was nervous he needed to appear calm but buy some time to think.

“Why aren’t you at school” Ms. American asked, almost accusatorily. “I am not feeling great, stomach flu, I stayed home today…luckily!”  Again keep her off guard: you are a fan and you know nothing!  “But please come in, if I can help you I would love to…”

“Alright…” Ms. Americana said stepping into Jack’s house.  Holy shit, two weeks ago he only fantasized about super heroines now he had two in his house! Amazing.  “Can I get you something, to drink or anything?”  Drug her, no that won’t work no time to get the drugs, it didn’t matter, she shook her head no, sizing up the house looking around, always the detective he assumed, what clues was she looking for Jack wondered.

 

“Can I see that window, the one in your room young man…what is your name?”  “Jack” he answered. “Jack” he said. “Well Jack, I need to see something from the back of your house”. “Sure, I’ll show you the way” And Jack went upstairs with the great Ms. Americana following closely behind. He entered his room, worried she may notice something, but there was nothing to notice, just a high school kids messy room, unmade bed (if she only knew what he had done there last night), pretty typical.

 

Ms. American went right to his window by the bed. She studied the alley.  “What are you looking for?” Jack asked.  “Where you here two weeks ago? Wednesday night/Thursday morning, do you remember?” She asked.  “I am sure I was here…why?” Did you see or hear anything, anything out of the ordinary?” she asked “There was probably quite the commotion outside that night.”

 

“No, I don’t think so…what night again?” Jack was sure he was caught, she suspected him, no he was paranoid, it couldn’t’ be. He glanced around, and saw a weapon, his baseball bat, wait don’t be dumb! Don’t do anything stupid.  “Late Wednesday. O.K., Jack…but maybe your mom did, when will she be home, where does she work, I’d like to speak to her too…” Jack got worried, too many questions, and the next thing the police are here searching the place. He had to get rid of her. “uhhh…I can tell her you were here, she will be home tonight, but she didn’t say anything to me about seeing anything…” Jack was nervous now.  What to do, what to do…

 

 She appeared like she was leaving his room and then she paused, looking around.  He was scared, uncertain, did she suspect something…what if Flag Girl made a noise, he would be caught, she would beat him, take him to jail, or worse: wait till the  rescued Flag Girl tells Ms. Americana what he did to her, they might even kill him. He panicked. “Wait, Ms. Americana, please, nobody at school will believe I met you can I get an autograph, maybe a photo…?”

She seemed mad or at least very impatient, or was he paranoid, maybe she wanted to leave, don’t do anything stupid… “I am in a hurry, but real quick…o.k.….”  Over here at my desk if you could just sign something, I have a digital camera I will get it…” “Fine, but hurry please” she went over to Jack’s desk and leaned over to sign a loose piece of paper on his desk… Jack was scared, he did not know what to do…he went for the camera, then, acting impulsively, he grabbed the baseball bat and went back to Ms. Americana whose back was now turned.  Quickly he swung, hard hitting the heroine in the back of the head. THUMP! She fell to her knees, but didn’t yell out. She tried to get up, stunned.  He swung again, like Barry Bonds on the juice, WHACK!  That was it, the second blow on the back of the head sent Ms. Americana sprawling, she was out, out like a light! A light you just smashed with a baseball bat that is…

 

Damn, she wasn’t out after all! She was struggling to get back up, moaning. He quickly grabbed the chloroform.  Damn this was one tough super heroine.  Then Jack remembered her power belt! He came up behind her and removed the belt. Then he wet the rag with his homemade chloro stuff and put it her to her mouth and nose.  She struggled a little, but the blows to the head and the chloroform where too much for the now power belt-less super heroine. This time she went down for good, completely unconscious.  He had done it. Shit, but what had he done? He had captured another super heroine, the great Ms. Americana, it was like a comic book convention in his fucking room, he laughed, but it wasn’t that funny.  He had kept Flag Girl contained, fed, and most importantly secret for two weeks, but two super heroines would be twice the trouble: Twice the work.  “What now…” Jack said to himself.

 

Well, first things first. He had to tie her up. Belt or no power belt, he wasn’t sure how long the great Ms. Americana would be out.  He grabbed the handcuffs he had found for Flag Girl but never used. He cuffed her wrists and then tied her ankles.  She was a big girl, Jack thought. Where was he going to hide her? The attic? A closet? Jack tied her ankles tight. He took the opportunity to also massage her breast. Man they were huge. Bigger than flag girls, and her legs were long and perfect, she was hot that was sure…well what the hell, Ms. Americana had interrupted his morning bang of Flag Girl, variety is nice, why not give her a try.

 

He lifted Ms. Americans, she was heavy, heavier than Flag Girl, on to the bed. She was still handcuffed, but he took a piece of rope and tied it around her neck like a dog collar and tied the other end to the head of the bed.  Jack then looked down at those magnificent tits, barely constrained in that bikini top. He had to see those babies.  He undid her top and began to massage her breasts, kneading them flicking and pinching her nipples and playing with them. “Mmmmmmmmm….” Ms. Americana was waking up.  He grabbed a pillow case and quickly gagged her.  Mom wasn’t home, but there was no need for noise.  She began to stir, her eyes fluttered and she looked up at him.  She looked dizzy, from the bat and the chloroform, but she was becoming alert.  She looked pissed he could tell that.

“NNNOOOO…” Jack thought she said under the gag.  Too bad bitch, she struggled and the rope tugged on her neck, noose-like, cutting off her air, she stopped trying to move.  “I wouldn’t try anything Americana, I have your power belt, you are cuffed and if I pull on this rope around your neck, well, it’s adios…got it?”  Jack threatened.  She seemed to understand.  He was hard now, hard again, Jesus, he was always horny.  He took out his cock and put it between those massive mammaries of hers, and holding one big tit with each hand he began to fuck her breasts.  She protested, but he didn’t care.  Man it was great.  He came and came full force right into her face, all over her tiara and blue mask with the white stars, that mask had more white on it now he joked to himself.

 

Some of his cum got in her eye, he was sure of that and she struggled but the rope around her neck went taught and she laid back down, obviously upset, obviously pissed. Her legs were still bound at the ankles and with her hands cuffed tightly behind her back she wasn’t going anywhere. Jack looked down at his prize.  Amazing, he had Ms. Americana, the Queen of Justice, on his bed, and he had just fucked her tits, he wanted to ride his bike to school and tell all his classmates but nobody would have believed him.

Ms. Americana just laid on his bed. She kept trying to say something, but Jack didn’t care. He looked down. What a mess. He had spewed his load all over chin face and hair.  His action figure, the great Ms. Americana was messy.  He left her laying there and got a wet towel from the bathroom.  He went to her and she tried to turn her head. “No, it’s not more chloroform stupid I need to wipe you off…” Jack told her. He wiped of her face but and hair, but the mask still had some of his jizz on it.  He grabbed for it and she turned her head again, the rope around her neck got tighter.  “Relax, I am just gonna clean it”.  Jack grabbed for her mask and it came off she made some more noise, protesting. He went to wipe it and looked at her face, again she tried to look away…too late. Jack recognized her!

 

“Hey, Fuck!  I know you…” Jack said surprised, “You are Brenda Wade the Billionaire…” Then it hit him “You are Brenda Wade, Ms. Americana is Brenda fucking Wade! That’s your secret identity!”  Ms. Americana tried to look away, she looked pissed, but she also looked worried, some kid had just discovered who Ms. Americana was, this was a problem.  “Hey, bitch, maybe I will take that photo now with my digital camera, only it won’t be the photo you thought, I will post pictures of you in costume without your mask all over the internet! Wouldn’t that be cool…?”

“NNNNNNNNOO!” she tried to say through the gag. “Wait” Jack said, “I want to hear this…” and he removed her gag. “You pervert, what have you done?” She screamed at Jack. “Wait till I get my hands on you, you juvenile miscreant…I demand you release me, you are going to jail when the police find me…let me go now! And take me to Flag Girl! I think you have her too, I know it!” “Relax Americana, or should I say Brenda…I know who you are and you, AND Flag Girl, are not going anywhere. Besides your secret identity is not the only thing I have…”

 

“I knew it you little pervert, you do have Flag Girl don’t you, where is she???!!!  I demand you release us both immediately you sick little bastard!” “I would stop insulting me Brenda, be nice, or maybe you will never find her: alive. She could be anywhere, trapped without food or water, you’ll do as I say or she will die.”  “How do I know you have her?  Prove it…you could be lying” She said.  “Easy enough” Jack said going to his dresser and opening his underwear drawer.  He pulled out her power belt with the distinctive “FG” insignia, returned to the bed and showed it to Ms. Americana. She gasped, “Where is she what have you done with her, I swear to you I will kill you if you have hurt one hair on her head.  You disgusting little pervert, if you have touched her…” “Oh I’ve done more than just touch,” Jack said interrupting “but you will learn about that soon…” He put back Flag Girls power belt in his drawer, placing Ms. Americana’s next to it.

 

Jack leered at her, anxious to fully enjoy his newest toy.  She stared back, looking defiant, but there was hint of fear in her face. She should be scared, or at least a little nervous, nervous that she had underestimated this, this boy.  A boy who had obviously somehow captured Flag Girl, held her for days, and now captured her.  Jack was proud, but he had work to do.  First he wanted to know about Wade and who Flag Girl was, information was power. He wanted to think. He went to the window where nights ago he had first seen Flag Girl by that warehouse.  He noticed something that he had not seen before. WI was printed on the side of the building. He had seen that before, downtown on the side of Delta City’s tallest building, WI: Wade Industries. That was Wade’s warehouse.  Well what was in it and how could that help him?  He would get that information soon.

 

Ms. Americana struggled again, gagging a bit when the rope went tight. “Let me go. Let me go, where is Flag Girl? Come on young man…” (here we go – try to get the villain in dialogue, like in the INCREDIBLES or any other super heroine story) “you have made a mistake, but it can be corrected, I won’t hurt you…the police will be here soon, they are aiding me in my search for Flag Girl, if you let us go now it will go easier on you. There’s a reward too, maybe we could work something out. Come on you are just a boy…”

“A boy who captured you and little blonde sidekick!” Jack said “Look, you are not going anywhere, and I don’t see any police her to help you. No you are staying with me and we are getting on the internet, I need to read your email and you have some messages to send too, and I need to get a look at Wade Industries and your website…a” “I think not boy, I am not doing anything for you, you sick pig!” she yelled. He went to the bed and untied her neck, he left her top open as he shoved her off the bed, her tits flopped as she fell. “owwww” she yelped. “Keep insulting me, bitch. I think you will, eventually anyway, do what I say…” Jack threatened her; “but first I need you more compliant, Ms. Americana, so I have a plan…”

 

He hog tied her, redoing the rope on her ankles so they were crossed,  he then tied a length of cord from her handcuffs to her ankles and pulling tight, her breast flapping on the floor as she struggled. He left her there, went to his mom’s room, found a “device” she kept hidden under her bed, he also grabbed the small stun gun she kept in her nightstand for “intruders”. He then returned to his room.  He grabbed the super heroine and dragged her to his closet. He left her bra top undone, the straps still hanging loosely from her shoulders. He then replaced her mask. Jack liked his super heroine action heroes with their masks on. No mask? Just another female doll, just a toy for me to me to play with Jack thought.  The mask was a little bit askew, but what the heck.

 

Jack’s closet was a mess but he made room for her. He undid the hog tie. He tied the rope around her neck again and up to a hook on the wall. The hook in the closet was sturdy, he tested it, he did not want her to choke, but he wanted to make sure she stayed put. The rope was not a noose, but it kept her upright and it could cut off her air if she tried to lean down or forward too far. He then retied the rope from her ankles to her handcuffs forcing her to kneel in the closet. With her ankles crossed she had to stay on her knees but the rope from the cuffs forced her to arch her back, she did not appear comfortable. “What are you doing…she complained, unhand me you sick creep…” Back went the gag, she needed to shut up. She was now in a kneeling position still in the closet, her knees had to remain spread to keep her balance, and if she relaxed too much the rope got taught around her neck. She was not, to say the least, particularly comfortable. She glared at him.

 

“I have something to show you before the fun begins, Ms. Americana” Jack said. And he went to his bed removed the chest, undid the latch and removed the tied up Flag Girl.  He brought her over, half dragging her, to where Ms. Americana was…it was quite the reunion. Ms. Americana glared at Jack and then looked sympathetically on her young friend. Flag Girl began to cry, the tears streaming, please help me, but now Ms. American was caught too. Who would save her now? Who would save them both? 

 

“MMMMMPPPPHHHH” Ms. Americana was trying to yell under her gag, probably, “Let her go…” But nobody was going anywhere.  Jack tossed Flag Girl on the bed; he had some lunch time plans for her, but first to “prepare” Ms. Americana. 

The device he had grabbed from his mother’s room was her “pocket rocket”, a dildo.  Jack had found it looking for her drugs and from the porno and xxx super heroine stories he had read and seen he knew what it was and, more importantly, he knew what to do with it.  First he put two fresh AA batteries in it and then lubed it up a bid.  He then went back to his closet and grabbed the rope around Americana’s neck. He pulled it tight and she chocked, coughing beneath the gag.  He then went to her bikini bottom, he probably should have removed it but there wasn’t “a lot” to her bikini bottom, it was just a little more than a thong.  He simply pulled the bikini bottom to one side and shoved the dildo in her.  She yelped, but could not move much in the strict bondage.  He then turned it on.  Ms. Americana immediately tried to protest, then she tried to move her legs and lower torso, she was obviously trying to disgorge this “thing” inside her. Jack made sure it was in deep though, he then got some rope and secured it with a crotch tie, a tie he had seen often on super heroines in bondage pictures and the porno videos he had. The dildo was secure.

 

“I will see you in a day or so, Ms. Americana, enjoy, I have some business with Flag Girl, which you rudely interrupted this morning by the way…but don’t worry, you will have fun too…enjoy!”  She was obviously trying to scream at him again under the gag, no use, he shut the closet.

 

With Ms. Americana “busy” Jack went over to the bed. She lay there, not squirming or wiggling, just resigned to her fate, laying there. He could tell he had almost broken her will. He was hard, putting the defiant Ms. Americana in his closet, forcing her, he assumed soon, to climax again, and again excited Jack. He would have Flag Girl service him, but first, he wanted to talk, so he removed her gag.  “Hey Flag Girl…” She sighed: “Please don’t hurt Ms. Americana, please…please. Let her go, let us go, I’ll do whatever you want…you seem like a nice boy, please don’t hurt her” she begged. “Whatever I want?” What was left he laughed to himself – of course, more cooperation, real love making.

 

 “Don’t worry Flag Girl, I won’t hurt her, not Ms. Brenda Wade.” Fear crossed Flag Girl’s face. “You know her identity? You unmasked her? Please, don’t tell anybody, she would be killed, there are horrible men, organized crime figures, this would destroy her. You know we help people, stop crime, why are you doing this…if you tell anyone she is finished as a crime fighter, finished doing good… ” She began to cry. “They would hurt me too?” she cried. “Stop crying, I am not going to tell anyone, as long as you cooperate” Jack said, almost tenderly.

 

“Do you promise? Please?” Jack nodded, “Thank you…” She said. “Relax Flag Girl, if you cooperate, I won’t tell anybody, if you give me any trouble though…well I will post pictures of Brenda Wade as Ms. Americana on every website I can, and email the pictures to the newspapers!”  Flag Girl looked scared, “Please don’t, I’ll be good…”  “O.K.” Jack said “I am going to untie you, untie you completely; I want you to act like my girlfriend now.  You love me got it. We are boyfriend and girlfriend and we are going to make love. Understand?”

 

Flag Girl looked confused. “I understand…o.k. I guess…? Just please don’t hurt Ms. Americana”  “Just do as I say…and nobody will be hurt” said Jack. Was Jack perverted? Obviously, but had all those fantasies and playing with super heroine dolls made him not want to be with a “living” girl.  He was turned on by the thought of her, the great Flag Girl, succumbing to his will completely, but he also loved the idea of her truly wanting him, in love with him, even if it was a fantasy.  He untied her.  “Now stand up.” She did. “I want you to remove your costume for me now Flag Girl.  Slowly…”

 

Flag Girl did as she was told, she removed her costume and took off her boots.  “Now take off your mask and tiara” Jack instructed her.  “O.K.” she said and she did. It was actually the first time Jack had seen Flag Girl without her mask. She was very beautiful, but she did not look familiar to him as Brenda Wade/Ms. Americana had. Flag Girl, was now totally naked before him, just a very pretty young girl. Jack went over to her. Remember you are my girlfriend…” He puts his arms around her and began to caress her back. He then kissed her, sticking his tongue in her mouth. At first Flag Girl resisted. Jack could tell she was stiff and uncomfortable, but he again reminded her that she was his “girlfriend” and if she did not pretend he could hurt Ms. Americana.

 

Flag Girl complied.  She kissed him back. She grabbed him, putting his arms around him and caressing his hair and the back of his neck.  Jack was aroused.  He couldn’t believe it. She might be faking, but it was great.  Having sex with her was great, but this was completely different. It was as he imagined it would have been with one of those hot cheerleaders at school, if they had ever really considered him, dated him, and then been alone with him in his room. It was great a great fantasy that was now being fulfilled.

 

Jack, grabbed her, still kissing her and guided her to his bed. She laid down. He got on top of her. Flag Girl grabbed his penis, first kissing then caressing it and then she put her mouth around it. She began to slowly move her mouth up and down over his penis, using her tongue to perfection. He thought he might cum, but she stopped, removing her mouth she laid back. She then pulled him toward her, bringing him on top of her.  Once he was above her, on top of her, and entered her, gently, he moved back and forth, kissing her as he took her completely.  The sex was fantastic for Jack (and for Flag Girl?). They made love for over an hour.

 

She was moaning. Did she cum? It seemed like it, several times! Was she faking? Who cared, Jack couldn’t hold out any longer and he came to, collapsing on top of her, kissing her cheeks and neck. They just lay there snuggling, hugging, breathing as one, spent. Was she really into him? Or was she just protecting her friend or faking for a chance to escape and help Ms. Americana. It seemed genuine, who knew? “Lets shower together…” Jack suggested. “Thank you…” said the grateful Flag Girl. They went to his bathroom and took the longest most erotic shower of young Jack’s life. The hot water running over their bodies as they massaged and caressed each other. Drying off one another, still kissing, they returned to Jack’s bedroom. Then they went to bed together, entwined in one another’s arms.

 

While they were in the shower Jack then got some good news. Having turned his mother’s house into his own little Super Heroine Jail, he was afraid she might find or hear something, anything, when she came home Friday night. But that afternoon, while he was showering with Flag Girl, she called and left him a message. She and Mark, or Mike, or whoever it was were going away again that weekend, some Bed & Breakfast or something, who knew, and who cared. With Mom away, at least till Sunday or Monday it gave Jack more time, more breathing room.  He went back on his computer, this time to research Ms. Wade and her business interests. 

 

Saturday was a pretty good day.  Jack didn’t go out. He had sex with flag girl one more time, this time he had her keep the costume on; they sort of fantasy roll-played with Jack “capturing” her and him forcing her to have sex.  She resisted, but was she faking or not, again, he couldn’t tell, and Jack suspected Flag Girl couldn’t tell either. She did really seem into it, if it was an act, Flag Girl was a great actress.

 

He then did some research on Brenda Wade he had discovered an identity for Flag Girl.  He found a picture of Lydia Wills. She was a 20 year old college student, and most importantly Brenda Wade’s ward, interesting.  He opened the chest and looked at Flag Girl again, just to confirm that she was indeed Lydia Wills. She was asleep. It was her alright: Flag Girl’s secret identity was Lydia Wills. More information, more power.

 

It was Saturday evening and Ms. Americana had been in Jack’s closet for almost 36 hours with a dildo shoved up her twat. Jack had not heard much from the closet, not while he slept, not while he fucked Flag Girl, not in the morning when he continued his research on Ms. Ward and her company. He had checked on her once last night just to make sure she was still breathing, she was, albeit extra heavily! What the heck, time to check on the great Ms. Americana.  He opened the closet and there she was, covered in sweat, struggling to keep the rope around her neck from becoming too tight and cutting off her air, and obviously in pain and in pleasure. How many orgasms had she had? Her stomach was moving up and down, she was breathing hard.  Jack checked the dildo, it was still humming away, love those alkaline batteries!  Ms. Americana did not look good. Again, she was sweating a lot; in fact she was drenched in her own sweat. Her hair was damp and matted, and sweat rolled off her forehead by her blue and gold tiara. Her legs had a combination of sweat and her juices from her vagina running down them to the knees.  Her eyes were partly open, fluttering; she looked exhausted, barely able to stay upright and awake.

 

She was a mess. He first undid the rope attached to her ankle rope and hand cuffs, and she straightened up a bit. Man that must have been an uncomfortable day and a half! He removed the rope from her neck, and she fell out of the closet, face first, crashing to the floor. She was lucky she had those two big “titty airbags” to break her fall; otherwise she might have broken her nose.  He kicked her side and she rolled over.  He then removed the dildo. It was gross, soaked with the super heroine’s juices, sweat, the lubricant he had used and whatever else was up there!

 

Man, she looked spent. She was breathing really hard so he removed her gag. She was panting, with the gag removed she gasped for air. “Please…please…some water…”  Again with the begging for water, well Jack figured after multiple orgasms, sweating in a stuffy hot closet, bound and gagged, he’d be thirsty too.  “No, no water for you…not yet…”  “Please” She begged, “I…I…I am exhausted, too much stimulation, I am, I am…powerless…powerless, you bastard!” Whatever, he thought, he needed her compliant and maybe this was it, if she did not do what he said he would place her back in there for another day with the dildo, another day or two of no food and no water and multiple orgasms. Flag Girl was more and more obedient every day, almost completely his, but Jack did not have another two weeks to get Ms. American, he needed her now.

 

“Are you gonna help me, Ms. Americana, or Ms. Wade, or whatever I want to call you?” “No you miscreant I certainly will not…” she muttered. “Fine…” Jack said, kicking her again hard in the stomach.  She yelped crying out. He kicked her again, this time in one of her massive breasts. “Are you ready now bitch? Or would you like to go back in the closet again with my little friend Mr. Dildo? No food, no water? I figure two more days and you’ll listen if you are still alive. So, will you cooperate?”  “Fuck you!” She said.

 

Jack grabbed the stun gun.  He went at her, first shocking her breasts and then her legs and pussy. Ms. Americana screamed in pain. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, please, please stop…noooooo…”  She almost passed out. “Are you ready now, Americana bitch? Will you cooperate or do you go back in the closet with your little dildo friend?  Or, should I just bury you and Flag Girl in my backyard and wait for you to suffocate?”

She said nothing. He had to hand it to her she was tough. “O.k. no problem” He went to grab her taking her by her handcuffed arms. “Wait…wait…” she gasped, “Stop…I will do it…please…whatever you want…just don’t hurt me or Flag Girl, please…”  Success! Jack walked to his computer, “First of all we are going to access you personal and business email Ms. Wade – I’ll need the web address and the passwords of course…”

A few hours later and Jack Simpson, high school senior, had a much better understanding of Wade Industries, its holdings, its corporate structure, and its CEO, Brenda Wade.  The fact that Ms. Wade was currently on the floor of his room, handcuffed and bound made it much easier; she answered most of his questions, particularly when offered a sip of water in exchange for each correct response. She still insulted him, called him a pervert, but a kick to the stomach and a round with the stun gun usually stopped that. If he had wanted to, and maybe he would want to, Jack could have transferred a million dollars into his savings account, or sold some stock, or did whatever he wanted with Ms. Wade’s accounts. His concern was that a transfer, of any kind, would lead banking officials, Wade Industries Security, the FBI, or whomever directly to him.

 

In addition he learned that Lydia Wills, Brenda Wade’s ward, was now in “Europe” (according to Brenda’s various emails). Of course Lydia Wills was Flag Girl (and Flag Girl was not in Europe, but under his bead tied up in a box), but that is what Wade had told Lydia’s school and friends. Brenda Wade had covered up her absence, probably to protect Flag Girl’s secret identity: a good idea. Jack used it. He, or Brenda Wade, emailed her board of directors, she too would be vacationing in Europe, a ski trip with her ward Ms. Wills and would be gone for several weeks.  It might work, buy him a little time, why wouldn’t a billionaire travel the world, skiing with her ward?

 

How long would his ruse work? What would he do now? He had a plan, and it was a great, if slightly crazy, one: Jack could not keep Flag Girl in a box under his bed and Ms. Americana in his closet indefinitely. His mother would be back, probably Monday, and she was bound to stumble across some piece of evidence. Just the additional food that was being eaten might make her suspicious. Jack could not be home 24/7 and one of them could escape or make enough noise to alert his mom or somebody and then he would be caught. 

 

He could, he thought, sell the super heroines to the Russian mafia or some gang, and he got hard again thinking what a gang, wronged by the super heroines again and again, would do to these lovely women. But that was risky, they might kill him, it was dangerous, but what where his other choices. Of course, Jack had grown attached now to Flag Girl, his perfect little doll and he really didn’t want her hurt or killed by mobsters. No, he wanted to keep Flag Girl, keep her forever.  He realized he had real feelings for the young super heroine. Ms. Americana was another matter. She was not his perfect, favorite doll. She had not cooperated, she had been mean and she still remained defiant, and continued to insult him.

 

Jack took another look at Ms. Americana.  She was struggling on the floor, still tied up, and gagged again. She was rolling, trying to undo her binds. She had given him most of the information he had wanted. He had to use the stun gun again on those massive breasts a couple of times when she was stubborn, but she had relented, mostly. What choice did she have? She was thirsty, hungry, exhausted from her time in his closet, and he had Flag Girl.  He could do what he wanted to them and she knew it. Time for some more fun, back to the bed went Ms. Americana, this time he would fuck her. Fuck the great Ms. Americana.

 

Jack left her cuffed from behind and rolled her with a punch to her gut. He liked hitting Ms. Americana. He didn’t really hit Flag Girl, he was fond of her, like he was fond of some of his other action figures. But this Ms. Americana had threatened him, she had been all haughty when she had come to house, confident…even now, after the stun gun, the force orgasms, the lack of food and water, she still seemed like she thought she was better than him. He would show her.

 

He untied her legs, removed her tiny bikini bottom, and tied each booted ankle to the legs of the foot of his bed. She now laid on her stomach, her giant breasts lifting her up a bit and her legs spread for him.  He was going to enter her from behind, doggy-style, that would humiliate her.  “NNNNNNMMMMMMM” she kept trying to talk beneath the gag, “Shut up cunt”.  He entered her quickly, resting his full weight on her back. Pumping away. She cried out. She tried to grab him with her cuffed hands and he smacked her on her back with his fists, he hit her hard. She still would not stop resisting, though. She bucked and tried her best to grab him or kick him or bite him. She wouldn’t shut up under the gag either, crying out, whining, screaming. He came inside her and got off her. After all and all the sex wasn’t that great, not as good as with Flag Girl, there was no connection he thought. It kind of surprised him. He hadn’t really enjoyed raping Ms. Americana; she had fought so hard the effort was hardly worth it. Sure she was hot, but she was too defiant.  Jack knew he could never break her, not quickly anyway.

 

He grabbed the bat he had hit her that first day with and took the handle and shoved it up her pussy, forcing it is hard up her as he could. She screamed beneath the gag, obviously in tremendous pain.  He left it there. He grabbed the stun gun and applied it to her breast, and let it stay there. She kept screaming in pain beneath her gag, he saw a look of hate on her face. He had totally humiliated and hurt the greatest super heroine of all time: Ms Americana. She was no longer the superior super heroine bitch who had stood on the steps of City Hall two weeks ago promising to “get” whomever had taken Flag Girl.  A day ago she was Ms. Americana, now she was just some whore, a weak defenseless woman he had abused. She was beaten and humiliated. Yet she still looked at him with hate and defiance. It was clear she was thinking, trying to decide how to escape. She was plotting her revenge.

 

He slapped her breasts with an open hand and again grabbed the stun gun.  It was no use she was not giving in, the rape, no food, no power belt, the beating and the stun gun had weakened her but not broken the great Ms. Americana. He extracted the bat from her twat and she yelped. He then removed her gag. “You little bastard, you are dead” she screamed, “I will get you if it is the last thing I do…there is no where you can hide, I will get you…”  Enough Jack thought, he grabbed the chloroform and placed some on a towel and knocked her out. He had to decide what to do.

 

Jack just stood there awhile thinking. How could he keep his toy, his super heroine doll, his Flag Girl, compliant and accessible forever without getting caught? What to do? Ms. Americana, if he released her would never permit it. She would find and him and kill him, he knew it. He couldn’t keep them both. Ms. Americana was proving to be too much trouble. At some point he would be discovered. Jack would go to jail, or worse.  No, he had to get rid of Ms. Americana/Brenda Wade and he had to do it permanently. He also had another plan, a plan he had formulated while going through Wade Industries website and Wade’s emails and personal files.  If Brenda Wade where to disappear her ward and sole heir, Lydia Wills (Flag Girl) would gain control of her companies.  What if Lydia Wills/Flag Girl was his? What if they were really together, a couple? Jack and her would be happy and wealthy beyond his dreams. And, he and Flag Girl/Lydia Wills could be together forever.

 

Jack’s mom had returned after the weekend. But she suspected nothing.  He kept Ms. Americana completely drugged and in his closet. As for Flag Girl she had become so compliant she wasn’t any trouble. She almost no longer needed to be tied up. She did whatever he asked and seemed eager to please him and grateful for any attention and care.  She had truly succumbed to his will.

 

He liked the idea of keeping them both, gratifying his sicker urges with Ms. Americana, but no, two live super heroine action figures where too much trouble. He would have to get rid of one, the one he did not love, the big one giving him such a hard time.

Then Jack remembered the initial robbery of the Wade Warehouse. He had read about the local Russian mob and their attempts to steal from Ms. Wade. He had also read in the papers how the mob had been stopped by Ms. Americana time and time again. She had put their men in jail, foiled their plans. They were probably eager for revenge!

 

Ms. Americana had personally told Jack about the platinum that was taken. Jack understood why the Russian mob wanted that. That had been stolen the night he had captured Flag Girl.  Jack knew then what to do, he would contact them and sell them Ms. Americana, with the promise that they would “deal with her” and he would never see her again. It was a dangerous plan. But Jack was running out of options. He had to do something, something soon.

 

Contacting mobsters wasn’t as hard as you might think. Jack had the resources of Wade Industries at his disposal and via its head of security Ms. Wade, actually Jack, was able to make email contact, through several intermediaries, with a lieutenant in the local Delta City Russian Mob. Jack, still posing as Wade, began to directly communicate with this Russian, sent a series of photos of the bound Ms. Americana, complete with newspapers to confirm the date, and that he actually had the great Queen of Justice. Once they got the photos Jack heard back immediately from the Russians, anxious to make a deal. The mob lieutenant, Dimitri Yaslov, or rather his boss, wanted to buy Ms. Americana.  Jack, in exchange for a fee reduction, received concessions that she would never be released and never returned to the United States. He even had them arrange for pick-up. He set the time and date, tomorrow at midnight, coincidently exactly three weeks to the day that he had first captured Flag Girl. In the meantime Ms. Americana remained unconscious, thank you chloroform, Valium, and Xanax, hog-tied in his closet, completely helpless.

 

Using Brenda Wade’s warehouse for a rendezvous, again Wade Security, unknowingly, made the arrangements, was perfect for the exchange. Nobody was around and Ms. Wade (or Jack) had arranged to have it open and all the security removed. The warehouse was dark and deserted as Jack brought the bound and gagged super heroine to the meeting. Ms. Americana was groggy, barely able to walk, she had not been fed in days and she was under the influence of the drugs.  Jack had placed a dog collar around her neck and led her by a leash like his pet.  She was so out of it that he almost had to drag her from his house, through the alley, to the abandoned warehouse. When he arrived the Russian lieutenant was waiting for him with two of his men, parked in a big black SUV.

 

The Russians may have been surprised at the kid who delivered Ms. Americana into his hands but they didn’t seem to care. Yaslov probably figured he was just a gopher boy and who was behind Ms. Americana’s actual capture was irrelevant; he just needed to deliver the great super heroine to his boss. That boss, who was back in Moscow, had been so excited about capturing Ms. Americana he had promised to promote Yaslov if he could deliver the super heroine alive, whatever the price. And that price, Jack had decided, also included the return of certain precious metals that had been stolen to Wade Industries. Brenda Wade/Ms. Americana had told him about that, and he was anxious for their return, Jack didn’t want terrorists getting a hold of that stuff anymore than Flag Girl and Ms. Americana had.

 

Yaslov, for his part, wanted no trouble; he didn’t care really who this kid was, or who he was working with. He had his orders, and Yaslov knew if he blew this task the consequences would be dire. The rewards for success; however, would be great, he knew that. A grateful boss back in Moscow would, again, reward him well. That boss wanted his super heroine nemesis – the great Ms. Americana - very badly. He just wanted her now, so Yaslov’s only job was to deliver her to his boss and not screw it up in any way.

 

Jack did not say anything to the Russian, he was a little scared, but he figured he had taken enough precautions. The Russians did not know who Jack was “with”, who else was behind him, who had arranged the capture and the deal, or for that matter who was watching the exchange at this very moment. Plus Jack knew all they really wanted was Ms. Americana, that was the important thing, not the money or the platinum.

 

But there was one thing. “The Belt” Yaslov asked Jack, surprisingly politely, “you have her belt?” Jack didn’t say anything, he just handed the belt with the large “A” to the Russian. In turn he handed the kid an envelope, left the box with the platinum, and took the power belt and the leash leading Ms. Americana out to the car. Yaslov and his two men then placed the tied and chained super heroine in her crate for shipment, and drove away quickly in a black SUV. The Russians drove directly to the airport, and Ms. Americana, chained, drugged, and gagged, and secure in her large crate, was sent off to Moscow in the cargo section of a private jet.

 

Jack returned home with the envelope.  $10,000 in cash, more than he ever had in his life, but he had a feeling it was nothing compared to what was coming if his plan worked out.  He went to his Flag Girl removing her from the box and untying her.  He had brought he more food and she hugged him in appreciation. Did she care where Ms. Americana was?  Did it matter?

 

Again, he had sex with Flag Girl, taking her again and again, they made endless love.  Could it be that she actually had feeling for him? Yes. It was clear, Flag Girl/Lydia Wills was falling in love with him.  He knew it. “I love you” he said. To his surprise Flag Girl looked back at him with love too. “I love you too Jack…I really do…” Jack wasn’t sure if it was the Stockholm syndrome or not, but he felt it as strongly as she did.  They were in love, he loved his action figure and she loved the boy who cared for her and loved her.  That night they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

 

In the weeks to come Flag Girl would ask what happened to Ms. Americana, but she came to believe Jack’s story of her betrayal, how Ms. Americana did not want to save her and had left Flag Girl. How she had left her there and was not coming back. Did it make sense? In her condition, and given her state of mind, it did to Flag Girl. After all Jack was the only one who cared about her he told her, maybe truthfully?  And given the weeks of bondage and capture Flag Girl came to believe him. He treated her well. He fed her and bathed her and gave her pleasure. Who cared about Ms. Americana, Jack was her life now, her entire life.

 

A month later Jack even released Flag Girl, allowed her to return to school and to her life. She came back to him though and he would meet her at his house or her apartment. He introduced her to his mom as her girlfriend. Mom was impressed. When he enrolled as a freshman at Delta University the next year they were together all the time, by his sophomore year Jack and Lydia Wills had moved in together.

 

Brenda Wade was missing of course. And for a while the police and the FBI searched. Had she been kidnapped?  Was she dead?  As the months passed, people began to forget.  Maybe she had just taken off, who knew what these crazy rich people did.  That Ms. Americana was not around anymore was curious too, at first, but in this internet/24 hour news/information age, people simply, eventually forgot and moved on to who was dating who and what new strain of bird flu threatened to come to Delta City. They simply forgot about Wade/Ms. Americana.

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One Year Later:

 

Jack Simpson and his wife Lydia finished dinner at their penthouse apartment in downtown Delta City. It was actually Brenda Ward’s apartment but she had been missing for months, presumed dead, and Lydia Simpson nee Lydia Wills was now in charge of Wade Industries and thus in possession of all of Ms. Wade’s property.  She had surprised many people when soon after Ward’s disappearance she had married a slightly younger man, unknown, without social or economic standing. But he was a handsome young man and she appeared, to the public anyway, rich and spoiled, an eccentric, and most people figured that like Brittney Spears or other young pretty wealthy women she did what she wanted. Most people assumed that they had met at Delta University when the young man was a freshman and Lydia was a senior. Love was blind right?  If people had only known the truth, that the two had met and fallen in love in a much stranger way, they would have been shocked.  But nobody did know, and people were, for the most part, intrigued by and then happy for the young couple.

 

When dinner was finished Jack told his wife it was “time”. She knew that what meant and she was so excited! She quickly ran to their bedroom and put on her Flag Girl costume.  She was very aroused. It was a game they played almost every night.  Sometimes she would defeat him, but mostly Jack would “capture” Flag Girl, maybe knock her out, or tie her up, and have his way with her.

 

Tonight he was the burglar who surprised Flag Girl investigating a break in.  He grabbed her from behind and overpowered her.  He tied up, and chained her to the bed.  They had sex.  When he was done he unchained her and the tied her hands behind her back.  He pulled the box from under their bed and opened the lid.  It was a comfortable box, much nicer than the one he had first kept Flag Girl in, but it was still a box.  She did not protest. Flag Girl got in and laid down, smiling at her husband as he patted her on the head and closed the lid.  

 

Flag Girl was happy in her box. She didn’t sleep it in every night, they often shared their marital bed, but when she did she was very content. She was comfortable there, she knew she was loved by Jack and that he wanted and cared for her. For the first time in her life she felt important and appreciated, really needed and loved. She loved her “owner” Jack. And, Jack loved his little Flag Girl action figure. He loved to play with her. He took good care of her, and when he was done she was often put away for the night in protective box. Content, both Flag Girl and Jack drifted off to sleep. It was a restful sleep. Why not? Jack was happy, rich, content, knowing he had everything he ever wanted…

 

-------

 

At almost that exact time in a Black Sea country mansion in Russia, Vyacheslav Petrov Ivankov, boss of all bosses of the Russian mob, was also in his bedroom. But he was wide awake.  He had been busy all night but he was not tired. Ivankov had just returned from a “meeting” with a fellow crime boss. The adrenaline was flowing, as it often was after he had personally placed several bullets in a foe of his.  You see this fellow crime boss had stolen from Ivankov, and he had personally settled the score. As everyone knew Ivankov was not a man to be betrayed or messed with, a lesson his enemies learned quickly.

 

Excited, fresh from the kill, he now wanted to play. Although his gorgeous blonde mistress was downstairs, available to him, it was not straight sex that he wanted. He wanted the woman he had tortured and raped for months now. He wanted to play with his American bitch super heroine who he had, after almost a year, almost broken to his will.  He pushed a button near the bookshelf in his bedroom and it turned to reveal a hidden room.  Actually it was a dungeon. And in that dungeon he kept his toy.

 

There, hanging helplessly from a chain in the ceiling was the great Ms. Americana. Her arms cuffed, her legs chained at her ankles, she hung like a slab of meat, her boots barely touching the concrete floor. She was half unconscious, and if not for the chains holding her up she would have collapsed on the floor. Her costume was tattered and hung off in places. It was torn and dirty. The heel of one boot was broken. Her mask was still on, but it barely covered one of her eyes which was now black and swollen. Her back was marked with fresh welts where she had been whipped, repeatedly. There were bruises all over her arms and legs; she had been punched and hit with a blackjack. The Russian had treated her as his own personal punching bag, and it showed.  Dried blood was visible on her mouth below the gag.  Her breasts ached, and one remained uncovered by her bra revealing many cuts and bruises. Ms. Americana had paid, and was continuing to pay, for screwing with Ivankov’s business interests in Delta City.

 

And, after all this time and abuse Ms. Americana was a mess, a broken super heroine; a damaged action figure. She looked up weakly through her one good eye as the light came on and Mr. Ivankov approached her.  She was gagged but she didn’t even bother to moan; what was the point? She knew what was coming: a beating followed by endless rape and then more torture. It had been months and months (a year now?) but almost every night this Russian pig had used and abused her. The nightmare never stopped for Ms. Americana and she was knew she was truly defeated now.

 

Ms. Americana’s power belt hung in a locked glass case on the wall, a sort of trophy. It was not always in the case though, sometimes her captor would remove it, place it on Ms. Americana to “rejuvenate” her when he had beat her too severely. That was almost the worst part, Ms. Americana would regain her strength a little, only to be beaten badly again. If she could only get to that belt when she was not chained up like an animal, no it would never happen. No, Ivankov was too careful, she would never escape.  Ms. Americana hung their without the crucial part of her costume – the power belt, helpless, weak, dehydrated, ill-fed, and subjected to endless rape, beatings and tortures. She was now just a toy, a toy that her new owner had “broken and damaged”. Underneath the case was an old dirty and stained military cot. Often the Russian would remove her chains and lay her down on that cot and fuck her again and again.

 

“Zdrastvuite, hello, my little American whore…how are we tonight…time for the fun…”  The large Russian man went to a table near the door and grabbed his favorite whip.  “Tonight I will teach you again what the cost of interfering in my business is, tonight you will submit again and again to my desires…I think Americana tonight I shall use your ass again!”  No, she thought, not that again, the pain and the humiliation were too much, she was broken, tamed by this beast, she had lost hope and was starting to lose her mind.

 

As the large Russian approached her, before he even touched her, Ms. Americana began to cry. She had been here so long…beaten, humiliated, a sex slave.  She was truly broken: in mind and spirit. She knew she would never leave. This was her life now. How could she have been so stupid, captured by a boy, a kid! How could have she been captured and then sold so easily to this pig! And now her great life, her career as a super heroine, her position as an international billionaire businesswoman, it was all gone, gone forever. “Why?” she tried to yell out under the gag, just as the whip cracked behind her, she screamed instead.

 

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Ten years later:

 

The Delta City Times announced the diamond anniversary of the most popular couple in town on the front page: “Jack and Lydia Simpson celebrate 10 years of wedded bliss” blared the headline. There was a lovely photo of the couple on the front page too. In those ten years of marriage Jack, not even 30 years old yet, had risen to become the head of Wade Industries. His wife, Lydia Wills, was still the CEO, but after graduating from college he had really run the corporation, a company he knew, thanks to lots of research starting over 10 years ago, inside and out.  He and his beautiful wife were well known philanthropists, generous and kind, and the “it” couple in Delta City.  Jack Simpson was a rich and powerful man, married to a stunningly beautiful woman, envied by his friends and by all the people of Delta City. He truly he had it all. A dutiful son he had even taken care of his mother, buying her a house in Las Vegas where she now lived, retired and happy.

 

Jack sat, celebrating and eating dinner with his wife at Le Figaro, Delta City’s finest restaurant. He could hardly believe what had happened to him these last few years. How a chance encounter over a decade ago had let him to capture Flag Girl and Ms. Americana. How Flag Girl had actually fallen in love with him, in love with him as a man, and in love with the domination and the bondage they still shared. How, with the disappearance of Brenda Wade – now declared legally dead, Lydia had inherited her former mentor’s company, and how, together, they had become “the” young power couple of Delta City. As Jack finished his dessert he looked up and smiled across the table at this beautiful wife, and she smiled lovingly back at him. He was anxious to go home tonight. Because what nobody watching the young beautiful couple in the restaurant knew, nobody in Delta City knew, nobody except the couple themselves was the super heroine fantasy life they both shared. He knew that night would be special too, that his wife would again dress up as Flag Girl and they would reenact some intricate capture “story” with bondage that would end with a rape fantasy.  Jack would take Lydia, as Flag Girl, and have her as he had taken her these last years, again and again and again. His own little action figure.

 

His thoughts quickly turned to his ultimate benefactor though; the only other person who knew he and his wife’s secret life and how they had met. The one person, if she was still alive of course, who knew everything…The woman who had made all this possible, what had ever happened to Ms. Americana/Brenda Wade??? The thought quickly passed as the check arrived and Jack grabbed his wife by the hand and kissed her passionately on the lips. “Let’s go honey” and then Jack whispered in her ear “It’s our anniversary and I have something special planned for you tonight.” Lydia smiled back and got up to leave. That night they would share a fantastic night of bondage, role play, and the greatest sex of their marriage.

 

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Somewhere in Siberia:

 

As Jack and Lydia were making passionate love, halfway around the world Siberian Oil workers waited in the bar. They drank heavily, Russian Vodka, to fight off the cold they had all endured working the rigs outside that day: a cold that stayed with them even in the relative warmth of the small dirty bar. They always drank heavily, their work was hard and they needed to numb themselves. A line had formed near a backroom. This was the oil workers other outlet.  Men, greasy, dirty waited their turn.  At the end of that line a tall woman with long messy black hair, streaked with some gray, gave blow jobs, as men manhandled her sagging filthy breasts.  She was dirty, bruised, scarred.   She had once been gorgeous, but you would never know that now. Some said she was originally an American, but no one was really sure where she had come from. She had been at the bar a while.  The woman was thin, too thin, and certainly did not appear healthy. She wore a tattered army blouse, undone, with her breasts hanging out, and dirty khaki bikini bottoms as underwear. He legs and knees where bruised and she had a large tattoo on her ass that said, in large Russian Cyrillic letters, “Property of VPI”. Nobody in the bar knew, or cared, what that meant.

 

She was, on her knees of course. Old, ill-fitting, army boots graced her feet. A guard with an AK-47 kept an eye on her, and kept the line moving, collecting the money, but she didn’t really need guarding, she was in the middle of nowhere in the frozen Siberian wasteland, where was this whore going to go? The guard yelled “next” in Russian: her life was just one disgusting blow job after another now. But had it always been like that for this woman?

 

All the oil workers knew that for a few Rubles they could get oral sex, for a little more they could fuck her, but most didn’t, she didn’t really look worth fucking anymore.  The years of rape and torture, followed by sex with countless men, had taken their toll. She still had the look of a woman who was pretty once but now she was a shell of that former great beauty. She looked really worn out and tired. Her mouth still worked well though, and the Siberian oil workers could hardly be picky. She was one of the only woman for literally hundreds of miles.

 

As she finished off the next oil worker, spitting his semen on the floor as he finished, the woman grabbed a glass of Vodka and took a swig, it helped mask the taste of the men’s filthy cocks and disgusting cum. It also dulled her senses and the pain and humiliation of what she was doing. The woman then looked up briefly at the long line. It would be another busy night. Again she thought, had it always been like this for this broken woman? She thought for a second about a prior life, a life as a billionaire and a super heroine, but that was a dream right, a fantasy she had the rare times she was allowed a break to rest and sleep? She was just a whore now, used and abused by man after man.  But wait, once she was…was…what?  Just then another cock was forced in her face, time to get back to work - time to suck more cock.

 

THE END