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.
 

Having triumphed over the invincible Mighty Maid, and beaten her senseless, Fraulein Power laughingly raised the superheroine's, huge, two hundred pound body over her head, with one hand.  Mighty Maid moaned in pain, but did not waken.

Fraulein Power laughingly tossed her latest Superheroine victim on the ground, and grabbing her by the scruff of the neck, dragged her unconscious body into the Lane house.

Once inside the house, Fraulein Power flung the beaten heroine in a corner, and then shook her awake.

As she slowly regained consciousness, Mighty Maid looked up uncomprehendingly.  Seeing the vile Nazi standing, arrogantly, over her, the horror of the fight came flooding back.  With a little sob, she remembered it all.  Somehow, the contemptible Nazi had methodically beaten her senseless.  She never even landed a blow, herself.  She was still so weak, she could hardly move.  It was a dreadful shock, for the world's mightiest superheroine to realize she was helplessly at the mercy of the villainess, she had so confidently set out to capture.  And what mercy? The evil Nazi had already brutally taught her, that Fraulein Power was merciless.  For the first time in her career, Mighty Maid knew overpowering, gut wrenching terror.  If she'd had the strength left, she would have fled in panic.

Fraulein Power saw the terror in the clear, blue eyes, and savored it.  She loved to see that look in a victim's eyes, especially the big, strong, haughty ones, who thought they were invincible.  As Mighty Maid cringed fearfully at her feet, Fraulein Power commenced to tear the heroine's renowned, glittering blue costume off her defenseless body.  Mighty Maid vainly wept in protest, but she was too weak to stop the Nazi war criminal from stripping her magnificent form bare.

In order to remove Mighty Maid's glittering briefs, Fraulein Power effortlessly upended the big superheroine, and held her upside down, while she shook her out of them, very much like emptying a sack of potatoes.

When she finished denuding her helpless victim, Fraulein Power tauntingly waved the costume in the air over her face, then handed it to Cynthia who had crept silently back into the room.  Another prize for her grizzly trophy rack!

In a state of humiliated shock and terror, at her devastating defeat by the hated Nazi, Mighty Maid, crouched dumbly at Fraulein Power's feet, vainly trying to cover her nudity. Seeing the mighty heroine's pathetic gesture of modesty nearly broke Cynthia's heart.

Fraulein Power was breathing heavily. She licked her lips eagerly at sight of her victim's distress. Unable to restrain herself, she grabbed Mighty Maid by the hair, and pulled her face against her crotch. Ecstatically, she rubbed those beautiful features against her excited sexual organs, hardly concealed by the power-mesh of her costume.

Fraulein Power looked down at the defeated American heroine with contempt. She was tremendously aroused sexually, and would have liked nothing better than to force the proud defender of virtue to slavishly relieve her sexual tension.  Yet the arrogant Nazi had another agenda.  She had made an evil promise to herself.

"Ja! Your American newspapers haff been zaying, zat Mighty Maid vould soon capture Fraulein Power, und bring her to zo-called Yankee justice.  Zat no criminal could equal ze strenz of ze great Mighty Maid!   Vell, zey vill zoon zing a different tune!  Tomorrow morning, zey vill find  Mighty Maid's naked body, killed by Fraulein Power's bare hands, in ze middle of ze Capital steps!"

For a moment, Mighty Maid could scarcely comprehend the meaning of Fraulein Power's words.  She looked up at her Nazi conqueror, with bewildered fear in her eyes.

"Y-you can't mean you'd k-kill me, in cold blood?"  The defeated heroine asked, unbelievingly, in a tremulous voice.

"Ja!  I vould, und I vill!  Id ist necessary, az an example!  You are more valuable to me dead, zen alife!"  Fraulein Power laughed, nastily.

Cowering in the corner, the frightened girl, who had once been the dauntless Power Miss, sobbed in terror for her friend.

"Please Gerda!  Don't kill her!"  Cynthia whimpered.  "She can be valuable to you, alive, just like I am!"

"Nein, you dumbkoff!  I do not need two groveling, Yankee slave girls! Vun ist enough!  Und you are more trouble, zen you are vorz!"

Without further discussion, Fraulein Power grabbed the kneeling crimefighter around the neck, in the unbreakable grip of her power-mesh gloves. Weaker than any kitten, from the remorseless, merciless beating Fraulein Power had already given her, Mighty Maid could only wriggle feebly in the Nazi's deadly grip, and wail, pitifully, for mercy.

As that inexorable noose tightened, Mighty Maid lunged forward, desperately trying to escape Fraulein Power's deadly hands, but it was no use.  The Nazi's clutch was unbreakable.

Paralyzed by her dread of the evil, Nazi superwoman, Cynthia Lane dared not interfere.  She huddled in the corner, yearning with all her heart to do something to save her dear friend, but friendship was no match for her overpowering terror.  Unconsciously, Cynthia clutched Mighty Maid's uniform in her hands, until her knuckles were white, as she watched, in horrified fascination.  Fraulein Power forced the big American superheroine down on her face on the floor.  Tears flowing down her cheeks, Cynthia gulped down the huge lump in her throat.

Fraulein Power twisted Mighty Maid's neck back and forth, and planted her knee in the screaming heroine's back, anchoring the supple, athletic body solidly to the floor.  As she bent her backward at a frightfully painful angle, the Nazi nearly broke the terrified girl's back.  By now Mighty Maid's screams were throttled, and she could only express her horrified, mindless panic, in pitiful little gurgles.

Cynthia, sobbing quietly in the corner, transfixed by the horrible spectacle, watched the vicious Nazi kill her best friend in cold blood.  Fraulein Power became ever more sexually excited by the grizzly deed.  She was panting and drooling, as she wrenched Mighty Maid's neck further and further backward.  The red-haired heroine's beautiful features twisted in an ugly mask of agony.  As she struggled for the tiniest breath, her tongue protruded from her gaping mouth.

The inevitable end came all too soon!  Suddenly Cynthia heard the terrible snapping sound.  It seemed loud as the crack of a high-powered rifle! Mighty Maid stiffened convulsively, and then her splendid body went pitifully limp.

Fraulein Power moaned in perverted pleasure. She settled back on her hands in knees, and while her victims body was still warm, fingered herself.

Still clutching Mighty Maid's costume in her white knuckled grip, Cynthia saw Might Maid's beautiful face, twisted in the horrible grimace of a gruesome death, while her murderess masturbated over her still twitching form. The horrified girl flung the symbol of her own passive complicity, away from her, in horror.

Then, something snapped in Cynthia Lane's mind. Everything was a red haze.  Hardly knowing that she was doing it, she reached into the her cosmetics bag, and touched the handle of the butcher knife, so long concealed there.

"YES! YES!"  Cynthia thought madly, her eyes blazing, insanely, with righteous wrath.

Fraulein Power glanced up from her latest superheroine victim, and saw Cynthia raise the knife over her head.

"Vat are you doing, you liddle fool?"  Fraulein Power laughed, unable to believe her pet lap dog had turned vicious.  "Knives can't bozer me, you dumbkoff!"

Nearly insane though she was, a tiny part of Cynthia's mind worked clearly.  She aimed the knife, carefully.  She knew the power-mesh suit, she'd worn so long, had one weakness; the circular opening at the bosom was unprotected.  With an awkward gesture, Cynthia drove her arm down with her whole strength.  In her madness, her aim was true.  The knife point entered the flesh a trifle to the left of center of Fraulein Power's bosom.

Cynthia never used a knife as a weapon in her life. Ordinarily, an overhand knife thrust would glance off the ribs of the intended victim, but Cynthia still possessed all of Power Miss's super strength. The sturdy knife point shattered Gerda’s rib, and kept on going straight into her evil heart.

For a moment Gerda looked startled.  "You treacherous bitch!"  She muttered, and sank down  across her victim's dead body, already dead, herself.

"If I am a 'treacherous bitch', you made me one!"  Cynthia muttered, and breaking into hysterical sobs, sank down on the floor, beside the two dead bodies.

"Dear God! I killed her!  I'm a murderer!"  Power Miss murmured through her sobs, still holding the bloody butcher knife in her hand.  "I've got to call the police, and turn myself in!"

Though resolved to call the police and confess everything, Cynthia was in a state of shock, and continued to kneel motionlessly for some minutes.  Her mind began to work more calmly as her madness cooled.

"Oh my God! I deserve anything the police do to me, but what about Dad?  The shock will kill him! His daughter, a murderess and a traitor to her country!"  Cynthia racked her brain. There was one person who might be able to help her, someone who wasn't above bending the law to serve his own political ends.  Of course, her father detested the man, and his methods, but this was no time for moral niceties. Cynthia realized that her long months of subservience to Gerda von Hipper had dulled her own ethical sensibilities.

With an unhappy shrug, Cynthia dialed the home number, of the Director of the federal agency charged with counter espionage activities.  When the man answered, Cynthia blurted out, with a hysteria that was only partly feigned.  "Oh Mister Director, this is Cynthia Lane, Senator Lane's daughter, something terrible has happened. My father is out of town this week and your the only person I can turn to!"

Cynthia could almost hear the wheels going around in the mans head.  Senator Lane, her incorruptible, straitlaced father was one of the few men in the government, who this man had never been able to 'get something on' to add to his personal files.  Would this be his chance? "Well, if I play this right, it won't!" Cynthia thought.

As soon as she hung up, Cynthia ran to her room, changed out of the horrible, blood stained costume she was wearing, into a demure, loose fitting, house dress. She hurried back to scene of the double murder, and shuddering in horror, rubbed some of Gerda’s blood on the dress.

It wasn't long before the Director arrived, personally.  The short, stout man, with the face of an angry Pekinese, was accompanied by his Deputy Director, who was his constant male companion, and a discreet team from the elite crime fighting agency, he headed.

By the time they arrived, Cynthia had gotten her story down pat.

"Oh Mister Director!  It was terrible!  Fraulein Power tried to kidnap me!  She wanted to use me as a hostage, to get my Dad to support that bill granting amnesty to ex-Nazis!  Just then, Mighty Maid arrived!  I thought I was saved, but when they fought, Fraulein Power won the fight.  It was awful!  After she beat poor Mighty Maid up, and made her helpless, she did terrible things to her!   Oh, things so terrible, I can't even talk about them!   And then... then...she just killed her with her bare hands. Poor Mighty Maid screamed horribly, and I heard her neck snap!"

For a moment, Cynthia was truly reliving the horror of that moment.  She broke into sobs for a moment, and the Director awkwardly patted her on the shoulder, until she got herself under control.

Cynthia wiped her eyes with the tissue the Assistant Director handed her, and haltingly went on. "That was when I stabbed her!  She wasn't paying any attention to me, and I guess I was lucky!"

"You certainly were, Little Lady!" The Director said, relieved that he could stop patting the girl's shoulder.

The Director thought for a few seconds, then said, as though thinking aloud.  "It would be terrible for the American people to know that this Nazi war criminal defeated Mighty Maid and did those terrible things to her before killing her!"   The Director didn't actually sound all that unhappy at the tragedy.  If the truth were known, he savagely resented the headlines that superheros were always stealing from his Bureau, and he was actually thinking,  "Served that officious bitch right!"  but he had made a career of successfully concealing his thoughts.

The Director turned back to Cynthia.  "It might sound better if the newspapers were told that Mighty Maid died heroically defeating the Nazi..."

"Yes, yes! It would be! I'm a reporter myself, and I know we could never print the story the way it happened!"  Things were going exactly as Cynthia hoped.

One of the lab technicians removed Mighty Maid's mask.

"Who was she?"  The Director asked.

His Deputy Director said.  "Isn't she that investigator from the 'other' intelligence agency, Wendy something or other?"

Cynthia forced herself to glance at the horribly distorted face.  "Oh Dear God you're right! It is Wendy Hillyard!" Cynthia broke into sobs again.  They were sincerely grieving, but still fitted in with her purpose.

"D-dear Heavens! (sob)  It is Wendy! Oh Dear God!  She was one of my best friends, and I never even suspected she was Mighty Maid.  Why she came to my office just this morning. She must have suspected that Fraulein Power was going to try to kidnap me. That's how she arrived just in time!"  As the evening wore on, Cynthia was becoming more accomplished in her lies, skillfully mixing in enough truth to make them plausible.

Newly skillful though Cynthia might be at dissembling, she was still no match for the crafty old Director, who was complacently thinking. "Hmph! Two birds with one stone! Not bad!"  The Director disliked the agents of the rival agency as much as he did "those headline grabbing superheroines!"  "Hmm, maybe three birds, because we'll manage to take credit for the apprehension of Fraulein Power!"

When the bodies were removed, and the room roped off, the odious little Director turned to Cynthia and said.  "You're a real heroine, Little Lady, even if the public will never know the true story!"

Cynthia simpered. "Oh, thank you, Mister Director!"  She was thinking.  "If the little rodent calls me 'little lady', one more time, I'm going to show him what a  'little lady' can do, and throw him right through that stone wall!"

When the government agents had all departed, Cynthia had one more thing to do. She ran back to her room, and changed her clothes for the third time that evening.  After first showering the blood off, she opened a secret panel by her bed.  Inside was a red power-mesh suit, duplicate to the one, Gerda von Hipper had forcefully removed from her beaten body, eighteen months before.  Cynthia donned it swiftly, along with her mask and boots and ran to the window.

A moment later, Power Miss was flying back across the river toward Gerda von Hipper's apartment house.  The scarlet crusader entered the apartment through an open window, and went straight to the wall safe.  She ripped the safe's door off it's hinges with one fluid movement. Power Miss anxiously sorted through the contents.

"Yes!  Thank God!  Everything is here!"  Power Miss breathed a silent prayer of thanks, before she swiftly burned all of the papers and photographs from the safe, in the fireplace.

Stirring and crumbling the ashes, when the fire died out, Cynthia breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief.   That terrible sword hanging over her head was destroyed!  For the first time, in a year and a half, Cynthia was free.  Those burned papers would free many others from terrible bondage to Gerda, as well.

"Even if I am a murderess, and a liar!"  Cynthia thought, ruefully.  "Well, that bitch deserved it, if anyone ever did!  I suppose that's what all murders tell themselves!"

Power Miss glanced sadly at Fraulein Power's trophy wall.  Then she reverentially gathered together the revered costumes of the fallen heroines.

"I’ll take these and keep them safe!"  Power Miss resolved, sadly, tears in her eyes, as she thought of her fallen sisters.  "It's the least I can do!" Cynthia thought guiltily, knowing it was her own failure, that had given Fraulein Power the ability to do those terrible things.

"Who's going to take their place?"  Power Miss felt a queasy terror in her insides, at thought of facing peril again, herself.  She'd never fully escape that terrible night in Los Grandes when Gerda beat her to a bloody pulp, and horribly raped her!

"Who else is left, though?  They're all gone because of me!"  Power Miss clenched her fists.  "I have to do it!  I MUST!  I owe it, to all of them!"

Resolved to carry on, Power Miss flew home.  The cool, night air was soothing.  It was so strange to be free, again!  She was enormously relieved to be free of Gerda von Hipper's cruel domination, but she was still so terribly sad and confused.  She thought back to the day, ten years ago, when she first donned the proud uniform of Power Miss. It had been a gay adventure, then!  The world was a simpler place, full of good people and bad!  Older and wiser now, Power Miss knew there were just people, and she'd have to do her best to sort out the good from the evil, but it seemed so difficult, now.  Who was good, and who was bad? The government, she revered, was run by sorted, small-minded bureaucrats like the Director, perhaps no better, or even worse, than those they pursued and regulated.

"And I used him to save my own skin, too! I'm no better than he is!  But, Power Miss must go on, trying to help the good people, and punish the bad ones!"

A sadder, wiser Power Miss resumed her crusade for justice. Sometimes she was terrified, and sometimes she made mistakes, but she swallowed her fears, and went on stoically, trying to do her best, and rectify the mistakes.

Power Miss fought crime during much of the 1950's, finally retiring, to marry, in 1956.