WARNING: This story contains nudity, graphic violence, violent death and other adult themes. It is most definitely intended for, and should only be read by, mature adults, over the age of twenty-one.
 

The nation's capitol in 1949...

Cynthia Lane drove swiftly through the deserted city streets.  Rush hour wouldn't begin for another hour.  Cynthia liked to get her demeaning chore over with, as early as possible.  Though her mother had left her a wealthy heiress, and her job as a political columnist paid her a very handsome income, the beautiful, brown-haired young woman was on her way to perform the services of maid and cleaning woman for her worst enemy, now her virtual owner.  She parked by the exclusive, new apartment building, and carrying a shopping bag of cleaning supplies, hurried upstairs to the seventh floor.  She passed by the elevator, and effortlessly ran up the six flights of stairs, not even breathing heavily when she reached the top.  The girl who had once been the invincible superheroine, Power Miss, still possessed super strength and stamina.

“Not that it does me any good!”  The unhappy former crimefighter thought bitterly.  Cynthia used her own key to let herself inside the apartment.

“Maybe she’s still asleep!”  Cynthia thought hopefully.  That was another reason she was here so early.  The apartment's occupant was a late sleeper, and Cynthia hoped to avoid facing her.  With a pang of bitter sadness, Cynthia remembered the days when Power Miss feared nothing and no one.  That seemed like another world, another life.  Now, Power Miss was the terrorized slave of a stronger woman.

As she entered the living room, Cynthia averted her eyes from the grisly sight in the corner.  On a mahogany panel, were mounted the costumes of the American superheroines, the evil Nazi villainess, Fraulein Power, had destroyed, in the last year and a half.  The first was a replica of Power Miss's own proud, red costume.  The original, dyed an ugly black, and adorned with an evil scarlet swastika, now belonged to Fraulein Power, by right of conquest.

Cynthia felt a lump in her throat, as she reflected, guiltily.  “If it hadn't been for my pathetic weakness, that murderous animal could never have defeated the others, even with super strength.  Cynthia shed a guilty tear for her fallen sisters, some of whom had died horrible deaths at Fraulein Power’s hands.  Maybe, they were the lucky ones; for those who survived, life had become a living hell, serving the despicable Nazi, as Cynthia knew all too well.

Tying an apron over her smart business suit, Cynthia began her humiliating chores.  She had just finished, and removed the apron, when the bedroom door opened.  The brown-haired American’s heart sank.  “Oh God, she’s awake!”

Gerda von Hipper stumbled into the room, half asleep, but glowering angrily.
“Ach!  You filzy American bitch!  Vy do you come, zo early?  You voke me up viz your banging, und zat damned American vacuum. Vy don’t you beat ze carpets, like a goot German housvife?”

“I”m sorry, Ma'am!”  The heroine, once so proud and haughty, mumbled obsequiously, in apology.

“Did you clean the toilet, properly, zis time, you lazy slut?” Gerda snapped.

“Y-yes, Ma'am!”  Cynthia answered, her voice quavering in fear.

“You better haff!  I vill inspect it, right now, and if you are lying, I vill stick your head in it, again, like I did last veek!”  Gerda sneered.

Gerda went in to the bathroom, and Cynthia prayed that she had done an adequate job.  Gerda came back out, and snapped.  “Vell, I suppose it ist goot enough!”  She yawned.  Cynthia's shoulders slumped in relief. She realized she had been standing stiffly in terror. She felt a drop of perspiration run down her back, though the apartment was not overly warm.

“Ach!  It is too early to torment ze bitch, now!” Gerda thought, sleepily.  “Later today, I vill make up for id, zo!”  The Nazi criminal walked to the sideboard, and took a some packages from a drawer. She opened one.

“Ja, I vas in Africa, last veek, und I haf a new souvenir for mein trophy board! Here hang it up!”

Cynthia looked at the brief, animal skin costume in horror. “Oh no! Not her too!”

“Ja!  She sleeps viz ze monkeys, now, FOREVER!”  Gerda laughed in answer to Cynthia's unspoken question.

“Here, I haff  zomzing else too! I got you a liddle present, ven I vas in Paris. I understand your fazer ist out of town?”

“Yes he's campaigning for a friend in our home state!”  Cynthia answered reluctantly, fearful of the implications.

“Goot! I vill visit you, zis evening!  You vill vear zese sings, I bought you!”

Cynthia looked in the package, and saw a set of garish lingerie.

“Ja vear zem, viz your boots und mask!  You vill look like a Paris whore!” Gerda laughed, nastily.

“Y-yes Ma'am!”  Cynthia gulped.  She dreaded those horrible sessions of Gerda’s sadistic love making.  “Oh why?” She thought bitterly at her fate. She looked longingly at Gerda’s wall safe, where she knew the evil Nazi kept the pictures of her shame.  With her super strength she could easily rip the door off the safe in an instant.

“Don't even sink it, Slut!”  Gerda laughed.  “I don't need zose pictures to keep a pasetic veakling, like you under mein zumb!  If you ever crossed me, or tried to get ze pictures, I vould come to your office, und beat you half to deaz, and zen carry you to your fazer’s office, and rape you viz ‘big Otto’ right in front of him!  Vouldn’t zat be fun? Vouldn’t you like him zeeing you wiggling and sqvirming on his desk, wiz Otto up your behind? Do ve understand each ozer?”

Shuddering in terror, Cynthia replied, with a sob,  “Yes Ma'am!” knowing the evil Nazi would ruthlessly carry out her threat, if crossed.

“Ja maybe viz ziz pretty undervear, I got you, you could attract a man!  How about zat young Congressman from Massachusetts?  I hear he likes pretty girls.  Zey say he vill be President of your decadent country zome day.  Id vould be goot, if you vere his vife!”

“Yes Ma'am!”  Cynthia muttered noncommittally.  She didn't dare tell Gerda that the congressman in question, had approached her, on more than one occasion and made certain proposals to her, which she'd indignantly refused.  Her life had become hellish enough, without a husband who'd sleep with a different woman every night.

“Could the American people ever elect a philanderer like that to the White House?” Cynthia wondered.  “I suppose it's no stranger, than Power Miss cleaning a Nazi war criminal's toilet!”  Cynthia answered herself, sadly.

Gerda yawned.  “Vell, if you are finished, ged out, zo I can get zome more sleep!  I vill see you tonight at six!  Be ready!”

Cynthia left hurriedly, needing no second invitation to escape the odious Nazi's presence.

Later that morning, in her newspaper office, Cynthia had a visit from an old friend.

“Cynthia, I haven't seen you for ages!  I thought I’d drop by, and see what's up!”   Wendy Hillyard said brightly, as she stuck her head in the door. The tall, redheaded government investigator swept exuberantly into the room.

The appearance of her old friend made Cynthia uneasy.  She'd done her best to sever all connections with all her old friends, after her disastrous encounter with Gerda von Hipper.  She'd especially avoided Wendy.  She always suspected, that Wendy was, in reality, the magnificent Mighty Maid, the most powerful of America's superheroines.  Mighty Maid was the last person in the world, Cynthia could bear knowing of her shameful failure, and the awful, degrading fate of Power Miss.

“I'm fine!” Cynthia answered, evasively averting her face from her friend.

“That's good!” Wendy answered, noticing Cynthia's furtive manner. “I'm working on the Fraulein Power case! I was wondering if you had any information on her?”

“I don't know anything about her!” Cynthia snapped. Once again she felt that nervous drop of perspiration run down her back, under her blouse and jacket.

Wendy noted her friend's reaction, and glanced closely at her beautiful features.  There was a strained look about Cynthia's face, and a permanent worry line between her eyes that was never there before.

“Well, you used to be very friendly with Power Miss, before she disappeared. Power Miss was the first superheroine to disappear, and it was about the same time Fraulein Power first appeared!  I wondered if you knew whether Power Miss was trying to track her down, too!”  Wendy was no fool, and just as Cynthia had suspected her secret, she'd always been pretty certain that Cynthia, herself, was Power Miss!

“I haven't seen Power Miss in over a year, and I don't know what she was working on!” Cynthia answered, sullenly.

 Wendy looked at her old friend, sadly, certain something terrible had happened to the irrepressible Cynthia to change her so. “Well, if you do hear from her, would you let me know?”

“Why are you hounding me about Power Miss? I said I don't know anything about her!”  Cynthia snapped back, and the beautiful, brown haired girls face flushed.

“Sorry Cyn!  I didn't mean to upset you!”  Wendy answered.  "I guess I better be going, now!”

“And I hope you don't come back!”  Cynthia thought, guiltily, as she conspicuously turned back to her  work.

Wendy walked out to the office, deeply troubled.  As soon as the redhead was out of the office, she sought out the lady’s room, and swiftly transformed into the glittering blue uniform of her alter ego.  Cynthia was right; Wendy was indeed Mighty Maid.

Descended from the last Queen of Atlantis, the tall redhead possessed the full super powers of the alien visitors who settled the vanished continent, in the predawn of history.  Raised in a farm in rural America, yet disciplined in the noble traditions of the Atlantean Royal family, Wendy had devoted her life to public service, both as a government operative and secretly as the mightiest of superheroines.

As she changed, Mighty Maid was thinking. “It's time that horrible, evil witch, Fraulein Power, was brought to justice.  She's done so much damage! There's never been a villain as dangerous as she is, either.  Well, Fraulein Power has never met Mighty Maid!  I'm pretty dangerous myself!  Somehow, I've got a hunch, Cynthia can lead me to Fraulein Power.  Hmm, it seems strange that Fraulein Power’s strengths are so similar to Power Miss.  The two titles are very similar, too.  ‘Fraulein’ means ‘Miss’ in German!  Could Cynthia herself.... ?  NO!  That's ridiculous!  No matter what happened to her, Cynthia would never betray her country, and turn on her old friends!  Oh Dear, though, so many of our sisters have disappeared, and always, when they were getting near to tracking down Fraulein Power.  It makes me suspicious of everyone, but, just the same, Cynthia knows something!  I'm sure of it!  I'm going to keep my eye on her!  I think maybe Mighty Maid will pay a visit to Cynthia's home this evening after work.”

Mighty Maid flung open the rest room window, and a moment later, using her Atlantean psychic power of levitation, was winging her way through the fleecy clouds under the bright, morning sun.

As she flew over the City, Mighty Maid spied danger. A large commuter bus, loaded with passengers, was nearing a washed out bridge. The driver couldn't see the danger, and was about to drive off the road into deadly oblivion. Mighty Maid swooped down from the sky. Just as the bus went over the edge, she seized it from beneath, and seconds later set it down in safety on the other side of the damaged bridge.

As soon as the bus was safe, Mighty Maid flew off, not even pausing to receive the thanks of the grateful driver and passengers. Receiving plaudits for what she thought of as her duty, always embarrassed the modest heroine.

Later that evening...

Shortly before her hated nemesis was to arrive, Cynthia took out the lingerie Gerda had obtained in Paris. The hideous garments were every bit as bad as she expected, consisting of a scarlet brassiere and matching garter belt, and a pair of white lace bikini panties with a red heart in the center. The virtuous heroine shuddered in disgust as she inspected the garments. They offended not only her modesty, but her discerning sense of good taste.

More than anything in the world, Cynthia wanted to throw the hideous outfit in the garbage.  With heavy heart, she knew that option was out of the question.  The once invincible superheroine had no other choice but to slavishly please the hateful Gerda.  The results of defiance were too horrible to think about.

In obedience to her Nazi Master's orders, Cynthia dutifully donned the sluttish, demeaning outfit.  Knowing Gerda’s inclinations all too well, by now, Cynthia was not surprised to discover that all of the garments were nearly transparent, and a size or so, too small for her voluptuous,  fully formed figure.  She put on a pair of sheer tan nylons and fastened the black garters.  As she put on the boots that were once the part of Power Miss's proud costume, Cynthia gulped back a sob, at thought of wearing them with this degrading outfit.

Just as Cynthia put on her mask, the door bell rang.  Before she hurried to answer it, she glanced in disgust in her mirror, and realized that with her mask and boots, the outfit was a parody of her proud uniform of Power Miss, obviously no accident.  When Cynthia reluctantly opened the door, Gerda von Hipper dressed in her costume of Fraulein Power strutted into Cynthia's home, as though she owned it.

Fraulein Power glanced at her slave, approvingly. "Turn around, mein liddle pigeon!  Let Gerda zee how you look!" She ordered in her guttural voice of command. Sniffing back a tear, Cynthia sadly pirouetted for her Nazi Master.

Satisfied that the costume was sufficiently humiliating, for the gallant superheroine who had captured and imprisoned her during the war years, Gerda wrapped her arms around the unhappy American girl and brazenly fondled her ripe curves. A tear ran down the face of the subservient superheroine, as she endured Gerda’s crude familiarities.

Fraulein Power toyed with her unfortunate victim for a few moments, mainly to establish her dominance and virtual ownership of the enslaved superheroine. Her hands were especially rough and tormenting this evening, more so even than usual. Cynthia noticed that the Nazi superwoman was wearing gloves of the same power-mesh material as her costume, the costume Cynthia's scientist mother had developed.

"You like mein new gloves, Slut? Doctor Klinkhausen developed zem for me. Zey make mein punches even harder.  Wiz zem, I vill make short vork of even zat bitch, Mighty Maid!"

Cynthia suspected that Fraulein Power had been avoiding Mighty Maid out of fear for her formidable powers. Now, the Nazi's vain boasting restored, if only for a moment, a spark of her old pride and strength, and she blurted out.  "I doubt that!  You'll never be a match for Mighty Maid! She's always been stronger than any other superhero. No one can equal her strength. It  won't be long before she brings you to justice!"

"Ach! Ja, you  sink zo?"  Fraulein Power hissed, furious at the show of spirit from her downtrodden slave.  Without warning, she struck.  Her gloved fist smashed into Power Miss's jaw.

Even now, Cynthia's strength and endurance normally equaled or exceeded Gerda’s, but the single punch with the new gloves, lifted the bigger woman off the floor and almost knocked her unconscious. Cynthia slumped to the floor, hardly aware of anything, but the terrible pain in her jaw and head.

"Ja!  Zey vill do fine for your friend, Mighty Maid, I sink, eh Slut?" Fraulein Power crowed in triumph, as she stood over the stunned Power Miss.  "Now get up from ze floor, you lazy bitch!  Lets play vun of our liddle games! Tonight, ve vill play 'doggy', I sink, or vould you razer ve play viz 'Big Otto'!"

Shaking her head to clear it, Cynthia's heart sank.  She hated the degrading demeaning game.  Still, anything was better than "Big Otto".

"Y-yes Ma'am, 'doggy' is fine!"  Cynthia sniffed, unhappily.

The game consisted of Gerda throwing her whip across the room, and Cynthia scurrying after it on all fours, barking like a dog.  When she got the to the whip, she picked it up in her mouth, and crawled back to the Nazi sadist.

When Cynthia completed the humiliating performance, Gerda always "rewarded" her with a "treat", a sardine which she knew Cynthia detested. The former Power Miss had to sit up and beg for the "treat" while still barking.  Cynthia somehow gulped down the abhorrent morsel gagging in disgust as she did.

After she gagged down the sardine, Gerda forced Cynthia to roll over on the floor, and "play dead", then beg for another "treat".

By the time Cynthia gagged down half a can of sardines, Gerda was ready to move on to a new project.  She announced the next degrading chore for her "pet".  "Ja, id ist time for my veekly pedicure now, Yankee Slut!"

Cynthia got out the cosmetics bag with the necessary supplies.  As she did, she surreptitiously fingered the large butcher knife from the kitchen, she had once concealed in the bag, swearing she would use it on Gerda one day.  That day never seemed to come.

"Oh, if only I had the courage!"  Cynthia thought unhappily, fearing that Gerda had so broken her spirit, she would never dare to rebel against the evil Nazi.  "You gutless coward!"  Cynthia thought harshly to herself.  "If you're so scared of 'her' you could at least use the knife on yourself!"

Gerda removed her boots and black stockings.  She was in a good mood, always enjoying having Power Miss servilely perform such personal homage to her.  After she trimmed Gerda’s toenails, Cynthia applied red nail polish. She dreaded this chore, because if she made the slightest mistake, Fraulein Power would punish her unmercifully.  She could never forget the  terrible week of torture she endured, after Gerda flogged her back with a bull whip, because she spilled the polish.  Going to her office, each day, with the unhealed wounds under her business suit, had been a cruel hell.

 Cynthia was just painting the last toe when the door bell rang, again.

"Who ist zat?" Gerda demanded harshly.

"I-I don't know Ma'am!  I w-wasn't expecting anyone!" Cynthia stammered.

Gerda went to the window, and peeked out through the drapes, "Ach! Id ist zat bitch, Mighty Maid. Vat ist she doing here? Does she know I am here? Vat haff you told her, you Bitch?"

"I-I don't know!  I d-don't know! I didn't tell her!  H-honestly Ma'am, I didn't!" Cynthia stammered, her lower lip trembling in fear.  She was in a total panic.  If Gerda ever thought Cynthia betrayed her, she would kill her slowly and painfully. Gerda quickly pulled on her boots, not bothering with her mesh stockings, in her haste.

"I vill go out ze back door!"  Fraulein Power announced, and she swiftly exited, leaving Cynthia standing in confusion in the middle of the room.

"What should I do?" Cynthia wondered thinking Fraulein Power had escaped. "I can't answer the door dressed like this!"  Cynthia would rather use the butcher knife on herself,  than let Mighty Maid see the degraded slave she'd become.