Wonder Woman: Hooking the Night Away

[DrDominator9]

Wonder Woman: Hooking the Night Away

By Dr. Dominator

Wonder Woman and Supergirl are licensed and copyrighted characters and are used in this story merely for entertainment purposes. The remaining characters belong to me and cannot be used without written permission from the author. Because there will be highly-charged sexual situations in this story, you should be of legal age to read it, meaning 18 in the United States and who knows how old in other countries. This story was not written for profit.


Many years ago I took an idea from a friend and ran with it, writing an imaginary arc off of my Supergirl Captured By the Mob series. In that arc, Supergirl and Wonder Woman were sent out by Tony Bonano to prove they could pull their weight as street hookers. It didn’t go well for the two heroines, needless to say. They took quite a beating from a variety of foes, the worse being a set of whores who resented the women trying to ply their wares on their turf. My friend however was greatly pleased with that little side sojourn and recently suggested to me that perhaps Wonder Woman would be sent out alone this time to try her luck and this time, maybe there would be more sex than fighting. I agreed that it was a project worth considering.

Upon reviewing my files, I can't locate any files that go past Chapter 1 of the this project though. I believe that I soon got interested in writing more Supergirl stories as well as my Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer series. I hope you enjoy at least this chapter as a standalone! I will say that the characterizations of the Black characters as written here aren't much more than crude characterizations of street people and apologize in advance for any offensive language or depictions. They are from a much less aware time on my part.


Chapter 1 - First Trick is DuShawn


It’s a cool, clear Thursday night. The full moon shining over New York City lays a glowing path for Wonder Woman as she struts along Jackson Avenue, not far off of the main drag of Westchester Ave in the South Bronx. The rustle of tomato-smeared Pizza Hut napkins in the gutter, the ticking of the stoplight changing from yellow to red and the echoing click of her boot heels as she makes her way down the sidewalk are the only sounds of the evening for now.

Two nights earlier Diana and Kara had tried their hand at whoring on behalf of Tony Bonano with disastrous results. Dressed mostly in their original costumes but without her power belt and with a very effective kryptonite power reduction collar, the girls had run afoul of every low creature roaming the streets that night. An extremely angry Tony dressed them down and had Sergei bitch-slap them silly when they came back penniless.

He’d sent the two women out again the following night with barely better results, a mere $22.50 between the two of them! Tonight however Supergirl was busy entertaining an important client from Sicily in the Pleasure Dome suite but poor Diana was sent out here on her own to try yet again to score at least $150 for the evening and prove her worth as a streetwalker for the Bonano Family. Diana wasn’t sure if she wanted to succeed or not. She just knew she didn’t want to suffer another night feeling the back of Sergei’s hand across her face. Her foundation barely covered up the bruise. In fact, if it weren’t for Supergirl’s very life hanging in the balance, Diana would be high-tailing it to the nearest police precinct house. Of course that had its own dangers, from Tony having the local cops in his pocket to her being put in a holding cell as a regular whore pretending to be Wonder Woman.

When she turns the corner onto 151st Street, signs of life in the neighborhood pick up. A couple of cars pass by her and there’s a foursome of young women in tube tops, scoop necks and spangled t-shirts; three of them are wearing very short skirts with the fourth girl, the only white one, wearing black leather hot pants. The group is standing outside the Easy Pickens clothing store down the block, all of them turning to look at her as she nears.

They are her competition for the evening, street walkers looking to score tricks just like she’s been ordered to do. She shakes her head resignedly as she walks toward them, the newbie who’s about to be trash-talked into submission. Well, she had a job to do and no two-bit whores were going to get in her way. She was hoping it wouldn’t come down to a nasty fight like it had with Desiree and her followers on that first night. She doesn’t see that tall black whore up there but that didn’t mean these girls would be laying down a welcome mat for her.

Diana doesn’t slow her stride as she approaches the foursome but she sets her jaw with determination.

“Whooeee! Janelle, look at that tall stack of hot shit comin’ this way. Don’t she just beat all, dressed up like that? Sure is a new angle on stoppin’ traffic. Gots to give her that.”

“Who you s’posed to be,?” Janelle gives the tall Amazon a cold look as she crosses her arms over her scoop-necked yellow t-shirt, raising her breasts up like blockade, “Supergirl?”

“There’s no “S”, Janelle,” softly murmurs the young black girl wearing a white t-shirt with a spangled gold dragon stitched across it. The embroidery stretches wide across a very imposing set of knockers. “Supergirl has an “S” so it’s not her.”

“I know that Moesha. Jeez, I’m not dumb. I was being ironic.”

“More like moronic,” jibes Kizzy the leader who first spoke.

“She’s supposed to be Wonder Woman,” declares the tall white hooker. “Ain’t that right, champ?”

“That’s right,” the stately Amazon replies.

“So what’chu doin’ here, bitch?” The very attractive Kizzy asks, sneering. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the Fortress of Solicitude jerkin’ off Superman or something?”

The quartet all laughs loudly at this while Wonder Woman scowls, reddening just a bit.

“Good one, Kizzy,” says Artie, the tall white whore.

“I’m here to work, just like you four,” answers Diana.

“The fuck you say!” Janelle snaps back, her laughter stopping short.

“It’s true. I’m just a working girl trying to make money for her pimp.”

“You sure ’nuff sound like new meat to me, girl,” Kizzy says, taking a step forward looking up slightly at the taller brunette facing off with her. “What makes you think we’re ‘bout to let you stick here and work this turf? This is our place. Go get some other stretch of sidewalk to peddle that fat ass of yours.”

“That’s not very hospitable,” replies Wonder Woman.

“You want trouble I can put you into the hospitable soon ‘nuff, you cracker hero.”

More chuckles at this turn of phrase chitters through the foursome. Even Wonder Woman is smiling slightly.

“I don’t think my pimp would like that very much.”

“Who that be, bitch?” Janelle asks.

“Tony Bonano.”

“The fuck you say!” This from Kizzy.

“Uh oh,” mumbles Moesha.

“Dat true?” Kizzy eyeballs her adversary very closely, standing toe to toe now.

“Dat true,” mimics Diana.

“Well, shit, you shoulda led with dat, white girl. Any superhero-like friend of Tony B’s is dope wit’ us,” Kizzy says, putting her arm around Wonder Woman’s shoulder and pulling her to her a bit. “That’d be some fine ass getup there. Sewn real nice, too. Almost looks legit.”

“Uhh, Kiz,” murmurs Moesha, “it may be legit.”

“Wha’chu mean, Moee?” The beautiful leader looks to the reticent youngster with an eyebrow cocked.

“She means I may be the real Wonder Woman,” interrupts Diana.

“Bullshit,” scowl Janelle and the tall white whore simultaneously.

“Like Wonder Woman would ever be out here turning tricks,” the blonde white hooker snorts.

“It could be, Artie,” Moesha says, nodding at the raven-haired beauty in the famous costume. “I’ve heard rumors about Wonder Woman being caught some months back. She hasn’t been seen much in public since. It could be her.”

“So,” Kizzy asks, stepping back and eyeing the heroine standing on the South Bronx street before her, “you her or not?”

“What do you think?” Diana looks into Kizzy’s eyes, her own flat and unreadable.

“I think you got the attitude right, that’s for damn sure.”

“Comes with the costume,” says Diana.

“But I don’ts believe you,” Kizzy says. “No hero like that would ever be out here hookin’. They don’t do that.”

“You’d be surprised what they do,” frowns Wonder Woman.

“So is you you,” Janelle demands, “or is you not, like, the real you?”

“I’m me,” Diana states, hands on hips.

“Of course you’re you, but are you her?” Moesha asks, her hand waving at the costume.

“I’m who I claim to be.”

“Well, this shit is fucked up as all hell and I don’t believe your white ass for a second,” Kizzy huffs, “but we got clients comin’ up the street so back off while we plies our trade, newbie.”

The throaty growl of a maroon Dodge Challenger rumbles from down the street until the car pulls up near the gaggle of women and slows to a stop. Diana’s mouth dries up when she sees the car, recognizing it from Tuesday night.

Mutherfucker! These clowns again? The Amazon is beside herself. The insults about her being a “retread” come needling back to her. Her fists clench tightly but she forces herself to relax. Thinking of Sergei’s temper, she throttles down her own.

The driver turns off the engine but leaves the key in the accessory position. As the alpha female, Kizzy steps forward when the driver’s window slides smoothly down.

“Hey, Rondo. You’re looking mighty sweet in this fine chariot of yours. Hi, DuShawn,” the tall whore smiles at the elegant-looking black dude with blonde tips on his straightened black hair and a goatee with blonde feathering running through it. She leans forward to rest her orange tube top on the car window to give Rondo the full blast of her knock-off Walmart perfume wafting from the cleavage facing him straight on. “You two studs looking to party?”

“Always, Kiz. Always,” DuShawn answers, stroking his blonde goatee as he looks at the proffered jugs with clear admiration. “And since I’m off tomorrow for four days, I got paid today and my weekend is free and clear. I’m thinkin’ to start it off with a bang.”

“Bang is my middle name, Du’. You know dat,” grins Kizzy.

“That’s just the short version, is what I heard. More bang for the buck is the long form,” chuckles the gang-banger at his own repartee.

“You sweet talker you,” grins Kizzy. “So come on outta there and lets go to my room, get things underway, so to speak. Rondo, you interested in cohabitatin’ with one of these fine young women back here,” Kizzy waves to the group, beckoning them forward until Moesha is close enough. She pulls the youngest girl forward with a firm yank and presents her to the driver. “I knows you’re sweet on Moesha here. Whaddaya say?”

Rondo smiles at Moesha briefly but his eyes really light up when he looks past her at Wonder Woman. He looks her up and down slowly with clear lascivious intent.

“You’re back,” he says to the Amazon, obviously remembering the incident from two nights ago and her rant against DuShawn. “Learnt to hold your tongue yet?”

“Yes,” she nods, tamed by Sergei’s slaps and the need to turn a trick. “Unless, you want me to, you know, not hold it. To use it on your penis.”

“Good god, cracker,” blurts Janelle from Wonder Woman’s hip, “you got zero skills at this shit!”

“Clamp it, Janelle. Bitch has to learn sometime,” DuShawn says from his shotgun seat. “Besides, Rondo ain’t exactly Jay Z when it comes to talking to the ladies. They’re a matched set in my eyes... ‘ceptin’ for the fact that I’m interested in doin’ her. She’s too much all that for Rondo here.”

Kizzy hears this and her hackles rise up, her neck stiffening. “Thought you and me were going to get it on, Du’. You saying you prefer this new meat to the nicely-aged seasoned steak you know you like?”

“What? There’s no substitutions on this menu? I’m the fuckin’ customer, Kizzy. I’m always right. And right now, I’m in the mood for steak tartare over here,” DuShawn says, winking at Wonder Woman. “You can do Rondo. He’s got moves, you know that. Let’s switch things up.”

“Well, I s’pose that’ll work. You want to ride me over some bumpy train tracks, Rondo?”
Kizzy lowers her front down again, twirling Rondo’s curly black hair and then caressing his neck, working her magic.

“Works for me,” Rondo says, smiling. He gets out of the car, bopping on his toes with excitement.

“There’s no place to park,” notes DuShawn, “so Rondo, you go up with Kizzy to her room while Tall Dark and Busty and me take advantage of the back seat here. Artie, you watch out for any policia cruisin’ by, if you be so kind.”

“I’ll be kind but it’s gonna cost you five for the service.”

“What a pal,” grouses DuShawn as he opens the passenger door and gets out.

“I got plenty of pals,” Artie says. “What I need is folding money.”

“A five it is, Artemis,” the hoodlum agrees glumly.

“Your name...is Artemis?” Diana’s eyes widen and her jaw slackens at this news. She turns to look at the tall blonde in the blue tube top and leather hot pants. Her past smacks her on the side of the head with a vengeance. All her years of camaraderie with the similarly-named beautiful blonde friend from her youth rush through her mind: their sexual explorations, their hunting games, their afternoons playing in the waves curling on the tan sands of Paradise Island. The memories crash on the shore of her identity, knocking her into silence with the crushing realization of how low she’s sunk.

“What? Somebody you know named Artemis died?” The tall blonde whore facing Wonder Woman clearly sees how upset she is but there’s work here to be done and the night is passing. “Get over it, girl. You’re on the clock.”

“Oh...right... uuhhh...sure....” When DuShawn pushes open the car door, it swings over the curb and Wonder Woman dully gets into the back seat next to him. The tinted windows block some of the view and then Duke earnestly leans across Wonder Woman and beckons Artemis to shut the door. She takes the five dollar bill he’s holding aloft and does so. The thump is loud in the suddenly quiet street.

Inside the maroon Dodge, Wonder Woman raises her palm to DuShawn’s chest as he starts to lean in to her kiss her. He grunts with the sudden stop.

“Not so fast, Romeo. Business first. You have to pay me.”

“Right. How much to fuck you?”

“Charming,” she says scornfully. “Twenty-nine dollars.”

“Is that all?”

“It’s the price my pimp has set. An introductory weekend sale. Price goes up on Monday.”

“As long as I go up right now, bitch. You think I give a crap what happens on Monday? I could be dead by then. Man, though, I do love them titties of yours. What’s it gonna cost me to fuck the shit out of those melons?”

“With or without the happy ending?”

“Without, I’m saving that for your pussy.”

“You have to wear a rubber for that. STD’s aren’t included, pal.”

“No fuckin way, I ain’t wearin’ no rubber. That’s a dealbreaker! Besides you’re a superhero, thought you guys were impervious and shit.”

Wonder Woman shakes her head in disdain at this and glumly replies, “We’re not. I’m not. Not now.”

“Man, you really get into character, girl!”

She looks at DuShawn and considers her predicament. More than likely, she’d receive another beating by Sergei, with this one much harsher; probably needing her Girdle of Power just to recover from it. Of course the Girdle would handle any STD issues. She’d have to be sure to get Tony to put that power belt around her waist after this night was over. Last night it was just some hand jobs and blow jobs in back alleys so it hadn’t been an issue. This was different. She knows Tony wouldn’t want her to be spreading diseases so she goes for broke.

“You have any sexually transmitted diseases, DuShawn?”

“Don’t believe I do. And thanks for askin’. This here’s ‘bout as stimulating as a trip to my grandma’s so far. What’s next, watchin’ the Soaps and fishin’ our teeth outta’ a jar?”

“Fine. You win. The breast sex is $6.50 with no shooting stars at the end. Intercourse is $29.”

“And no rubber required?” DuShawn confirms in a tone he’s heard his lawyer use in night court on several occasions.

“That’s correct. No condom required,” Wonder Woman resignedly nods her assent.

“Great then, let’s do this,” the goateed gangbanger grins and then is stopped short yet again by Wonder Woman’s out-thrust palm. She draws it back and then rubs her fingers together making the money sign.

“Oh yeah, that,” the man smiles, taking out his wallet. He counts out the cash in tens and singles, handing over $36 dollars to the famous heroine beside him. “Keep the change,” he grins, watching Wonder Woman slide the folded currency into a special sleeve that was sewn into her boot by Sergei for just this purpose. Diana grimaced at the humiliating memory of him presenting her with the boot and pointedly announcing the sleeve’s purpose in a room filled with mafia goons at the time. The cheers had made her seethe at that moment and the thought has only soured over time. But the present intrudes on her with a vengeance.

“Now, finally! Pull down that funky gold eagle, mama, lie back and show me those fine ta-tas! It’s time for DuShawn to go body flyin’!”

Wonder Woman does as she’s told. With the money in her boot now, she’s just property. She lies back on the red pleather seat, grasps the top of her bustier in both hands and pulls it down. Her hefty tits come bouncing out in a semblance of a dance of freedom, wobbling and shaking heavily on her chest. No stranger to titty fucks, DuShawn leans over the famous beauty’s body and immediately begins to kiss and suck on the nipples presented, his hands fondling the generous flesh with practiced technique. To her surprise, the heroine finds his approach more than acceptable, even gentle despite his urgency.

“Thank you,” she mutters aloud.

“For what?” Between his nipple tonguing and breast-squeezing, DuShawn’s reply is now muffled by breast meat filling his mouth.

“Your handwork, your mouth, it’s...nice...you’re....good.”

“Yeah?” He pulls away from her tit for a beat. “Best you ever had?”

“Sure, I’d say so,” she lies.

“Spoken like a true whore,” he answers, going back to work with his mouth.

Wonder Woman realizes he’s right and stops herself at one lonely tear. She tries to lose herself in the sensation and is helped along by DuShawn’s palm reaching between her thighs and cupping her sex. He rubs that hand back and forth and continues sucking on Wonder Woman’s nipple. It extends and thickens at this attention and the firmly insistent palm stroking away at her crotch pulls a smooth moan from the costumed heroine being rapidly devalued in the back seat of a car in the middle of the South Bronx.

“Okay, let’s get this tittie ride going,” DuShawn declares, quickly stripping off his pants and boxers and tossing them on the floor of the car. His penis is halfway up and he strokes it a few times to get it pointing at the car’s dome light. He then carefully positions his butt on Wonder Woman’s belly, hacks up some phlegm and spits on her cleavage. She turns her head away, horrified at the indignity of it all. The gangbanger doesn’t give a shit, simply concerned with squashing her twin orbs against his cock, sandwiching it firmly between the mountains of flesh. His face sets in a mask of concentration as he rocks his pelvis and saws his dick back and forth so the tip of his cock turtleheads out from the crevice and points at Wonder Woman’s cheek.

“This your first tittie fuck, champ?”

“This, no, are you joking? I’ve been at the rodeo before. An old hand actually. I’m having fun. How about you?”

“You’re a horrible liar for a whore. You should practice. Sure don’t seem like you’re having fun. Want more spit, get it more lubed up in happy valley there?”

“Hera, yes,” Wonder Woman nods vigorously. “Would you please?”

“Fuck no, bitch. You want it slippery, you make it slippery with your own lugies. I done the first one for you. I’m a gentleman but let’s not get carried away.”

The heroine’s dismay is obvious but the painful friction as he saws away at her raw cleavage is too much to bear. She takes hold of his wrists, pulls his hands apart and forces his torso back somewhat. The prick pops up from the sideways shifting hills of her breasts and she spits a thick gob of phlegm into the redness between her breasts. She hawks up yet another and another one after that, aiming and hitting her target with remarkable accuracy.

“Well, you might not be aces in the lying department but when it comes to hawking lugies, you’re some kinda’ Annie Fucking Oakley,” DuShawn says with deep admiration then pushes her breasts back together and goes back to sliding his cock in and out of the now slippery Wonder Woman canyon. He picks up the pace and the heroine’s body rocks against the soft pleather seat as the gangbanger enjoys the delicious easy friction of her warm boobs cradling his long stiff dick. The Champion of All Women looks nervously at the cock head as it prairie dogs out from its nest again and again.

“No happy ending, you said,” She reminds him, her eye twitching with anxiety as she feels his shaft get more and more rigid as it pistons between her breasts.

“I told you I ain’t throwing up no three-pointers from downtown, ho! I be going for the slam dunk inside the paint, girl, jes like I said.”

“What are you talking about, DuShawn?”

“Basketball terminology, you dumb cow,” the goateed man grouses, continuing to pump his rod back and forth, now using a slow steady pace. His face looms over Diana’s like an eclipse in front of the car’s dome light, his hair haloed. “Nevermind. Yo precious lids ain’t gonna be sportin’ no cream white eyeshadow on my account. I can hold myself back like a real man. In fact, let’s prove that right now. You grip that dick head of mine with yo’ lips and slather it with that tongue of yours.”

“Eeeww! Noo!” Wonder Woman blurts. “I’m the Champion of All Women. I’m not doing that!”

“S’cuze me? I hear dat right? You denying a customer? What kind of whore are you?”

“I’m not a whore. I’m Wonder Woman.”

“Right, and I’m the King of Saudia A-Fuckin’-Rabia. Stop with this bullshit and suck my dick, bitch!”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Of course I don’t believe you! No self-respecting female superhero would be caught dead out here letting strangers fuck her tits. It’s a nice costume, lady, but get real and start doin’ your fuckin’ job, will ya? I bought your act didn’t I? You made the sale, whore. Now start suckin!”

“How can I convince you?”

“You can’t and I’m losing this erection, so get me hard now or I’ll beat the shit out of you and take my money back and tell your pimp!”

“My pimp’s Tony Bonano, the mafia don. Ask him, he’ll vouch for me.”

“Tony Bonano’s your pimp?”

“Yes.”

“That’s different.”

“So you believe I’m Wonder Woman then?”

“Not for a second. But it means I’m not knocking the shit out of you. Don’t need him on my case.”

“But he’s on MY case, don’t you see? He captured me and has been abusing me and gotten me addicted to crack. That’s why I’m here now. He turned me into a junkie. If I don’t turn tricks, no heroin.”

“You really believe this act, don’t you?”

“It’s not an act.”

“So you’re telling me you’re the real Wonder Woman.”

“Yes.”

“The real one?”

“Yes!”

“If that’s the case what’s the deal with these crap accessories? That cardboard belt and crownie thing in your hair look like they were pasted together by a second grader. And that lasso is nothin’ but cheap kitchen twine with gold spray paint.”

“Well, Tony’s got my real items locked away. If he didn’t have my power belt, he’d be crab food on the bottom of the ocean right now. By Hera, he would. Plus he’s got Supergirl back at the Pleasure Dome as a bargaining chip. I have no choice but to play the whore tonight.”

“This is a prank show, right? Where did Rondo hide the camera? That a-hole set me up, didn’t he?”

“There’s no camera and it’s no prank. You’re sitting on the real Wonder Woman with your dick between her breasts.”

“They are fuckin’ incredible tits!”

“And you’ve paid for them so you should probably enjoy them.”

“The real deal. Wonder Woman? No BS? Look in my eyes and say it.”

“I am the real Wonder Woman,” Diana says giving the gangbanger a stare.

“And you’re letting me fuck these titties of your own free will?”

“No, I’m letting you do this because I’ve got no other options at this point.”

“Other than that, though. You’re doing this as the real Wonder Woman.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t that beat all! You’re really her.”

“I am.”

“You’re whoring yourself out and I’m fucking your titties.”

“Evidently yes.”

“You sure talk fancy like a superheroine.”

“I speak twelve languages.”

“Speak some...uhh....Greek.”

Diana rattles off several sentences in fluent Greek as DuShawn sits back a bit with his hands still holding onto her tits. The look in his eyes changes into one of amazement.

“What was all that about? What’d you say?”

“Those were the final words of Socrates after drinking poisoned hemlock. ‘Crito, we owe a rooster to Asclepius. Please, don't forget to pay the debt,’ is what he said. And I should know. I was there.”

“You were there, huh? Lady, you’re a fried chicken short of a church picnic. But you’ve got the tits of a Greek goddess...”

“Which I am.”

“Which you are...”

“Well, a demi-goddess to be specific.”

“Of course, my bad for not knowing,” DuShawn shakes his head.

“Well, that’s not common knowledge.”

“Hey, you know what IS common knowledge: Whores suck cocks for money. You doing that or what, Wonder Woman?”

“It will cost extra. You didn’t pay me to suck your cock, you paid me for...”

“I know what I paid you fo, bitch. But we ain’t doin’ what I paid for. We’re discussing Greek philosophers and hemlines.”

“Hemlock.”

“How much it cost for you to shut the fuck up and suck me, meter maid. How much. It’s all I need ta’ know!”

“50 cents per grip and lick.”

“Sold,” he says, leaning back, grabbing his pants off the car floor and fishing the wallet from the pocket. He takes out a sheaf of singles and says, “Here’s a buck. Let’s start with two of ‘em at a time. I don’t do nickle and dime shit even though you do. Open that pretty mouth and take me in, motor mouth.”

Grasping the dollar and stuffing it for now under her sweaty back, Wonder Woman does open her mouth to allow DuShawn to scoot forward on her belly somewhat so that the fat brown tip of his near-deflated cock is close enough for the famous heroine to grab with her lips.

She takes him in and her thick licks compress around his cockhead. She turns her head left and then right, rotating it lightly. His penis comes to life again, stiffening quickly at this loving attention finally paid. Wonder Woman softens her grip and quickly rolls her tongue all around the cock’s tip, leaving a shiny glaze there and a thin drip of saliva.

DuShawn pulls his cock back inside the tits and rocks his pelvis several times within their warm confines. His face is flushed now and he’s rock hard again with the knowledge that he might in fact be fucking the real Wonder Woman.

He declares it with a mix of awe and pleasure. “I’m fucking Wonder Woman’s titties... And she’s allowin’ it!” He presses his pelvis forward shoving the slick prick back into Wonder Woman’s face.

“Again,” he demands. And she gives him his second grip and lick, this one more slowly and carefully measured.

“Now we’re talking Greek.” He holds up another dollar bill. “Two more, Champion of All Cock Suckers.” Frowning, the famous heroine can only comply. The threat of Sergei and Tony keep her in place. But at least she’d gotten him harder than before. Her fame had done that and she’s unaware of why it was so important to her. It just was!

She leans her head forward and takes his cock in her mouth once more, slowly letting her lips push around the mushroom head as if a slow tide creeping in, taking in the fat glans of him until the whole rounded surface is surrounded by the heat of her mouth. She lets a warm breath pass over the tip and the whole shaft jerks up at this new pleasure. Yet again she rotates her head back and forth, keeping the grip of her lips tight. DuShawn’s moan is as throaty a growl as that issued by the Dodge itself. Wonder Woman can’t help but smile, her mouth creasing slightly as she holds the man’s prick firmly in there. Knowing who she is apparently has heightened DuShawn’s sensitivity and she’s pleased to know it. She plays with him with her tongue next, letting the weight of it slowly drape down and around the cock head, her saliva giving the brown color of his dick the sheen of a melting chocolate bar.

“Whoa, whoa. Pull up! Stop that. Stop it!” DuShawn pulls his dick out of Wonder Woman’s mouth with an abruptness that has her eyes widening. He bows his head and concentrates with all his being. “The third baseman for the San Diego Padres is...is...Solarte... Yangervis Solarte. Phew!”

“Do you want another two lip grips, Shawnie?” Wonder Woman grins, thrilled with the control she’s reestablished.

“No, bitch. Fuck no. Don’t touch me. I need to collect myself here. You done got me over-anxious by just a bit. Settle down, I be with you presently. Damn.”

“Should I hold your penis then and....”

“Oh hell no. Be still, will ya’? You so dumb you can’t tell when a guy’s trying to save his self for the full effect later on? For some centuries old whore, you sure don’t know nothin’ bout givin’ a guy a chance to work his magic his own damn way!”

“I haven’t been a whore for centuries. I never said that! It’s just in the last couple of months.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine, I hear you. You use to be pristine as the fuckin’ snow. Thing is, you ain’t now, lady, so open up them thighs, ‘cuz now I’m calmed down and ready to rock and roll.” The gangbanger backs himself up, sliding down Wonder Woman’s body until he’s off her pelvis completely, sitting on the cheap leather seat and waiting for her to spread her legs apart. Then he realizes she’s still wearing those blue underpants of hers with the white stars all over them.

She sees him get in position and says, “I’ll just pull down my ...” reaching for her briefs.

“Don’t bother ‘bout that,” DuShawn interrupts, stopping her movement by putting his own hand between her breasts and roughly shoving her down into the soft back seat. “I’ll just pull ‘em aside. Feels more like I’m fucking a fancy-ass heroine that way!”

DuShawn takes the crotch of Wonder Woman’s famous costume pants in one hand and draws it aside, revealing a beautiful pussy beneath, the slightly swollen outer labia hiding her inner lips. The wispy black curls of Wonder Woman’s trimmed bush beckon the man’s hand forward and he cups her mound with his palm, resting it there and feeling the heat of this goddess beneath him. Gently he slides his finger between the lower lips and slowly rotates his finger within the slightly damp channel within, drawing a soft moan and a smile of gratitude from the bare-breasted vision before him.

Once again she thanks him for his gentle manner.

“Dry ain’t good for you or me,” he counters, not accepting her interpretation of his ways. His wiggling, circling finger nevertheless isn’t rough and degrading, it’s slow and luxurious and Wonder Woman dampens at his continued stroking finger work.

He leans forward, looming close to her face and kisses her deeply, savoring the plush lips against his own until she opens her mouth and they taste each other’s tongue. Entwining and searching, it’s surprisingly warm and fulfilling for the once chaste princess of Themyscira. Her eyes shut as she enjoys the feeling of sexual compatibility where she expected none. And then, with a smooth firmness that’s insistent but not greedy, the length of the man’s shaft is easily sliding within her, filling her and pleasing her. She purrs loudly as one hand holds her panties aside while the other holds her ass and squeezes its fullness.

“Well ain’t you a little slice of heaven!”

“And you are far more a gentleman that you’d have a lady believe.”

“Yeah, well, don’t spread that around, I got a rep to maintain.”

Rep or not, DuShawn proceeds to thrust away at the beautiful superheroine pinned beneath him. His body possesses her completely with strength, persistence and a semblance of concern that pleases the beauty thoroughly. Back and forth his generous member plunders her, fulfills her, surprises her. Her breath comes in quick urgent chuffs of pleasure as her body is jolted over and over into the soft leather by DuShawn’s energetic thrusts.

Maybe being a whore isn’t the worst thing in the world. Maybe I’ve been too tight-assed about all this?

Having his rock hard shaft encircled by a tight channel of incredible pulsing velvety heat is thrilling. Having it be Wonder Woman’s pussy is beyond his ability to control. He can only work his magic for a brief period, thrusting and withdrawing slowly as possible at first and then quickening to a raging frenzy he cannot contain. Back and forth, back and forth his pelvis rabbits until his vision blurs, he clings, he drowns in the moment of complete release, holding her ass with one hand, her breast with another. The base of his cock keeps the briefs from closing back over the blissful opening between Wonder Woman’s thighs as he seizes up in absolute pleasure, pulsing helplessly as he empties himself inside her. Several times his pleasure spews forth, enraptured by sensation. Enveloped in her warmth, both by her clamping sex and her embracing arms. he sighs and chuckles helplessly in ecstasy beyond belief. It’s been a long time since he’s cum that hard. He sighs, relaxing in joy, pressing Wonder Woman into the car’s leather seat. He is satiated.

The Princess of Themyscira however is not fulfilled. She is lingering on the border, sexually frustrated and angry while the man weighing down on her is numbed, murmuring satisfaction and uncaring of her needs. It’s not the first time this has happened to her with men. She’d been raped and abused more times over the centuries than she could count. Why should some street thug be any different.

“Okay, DuShawn, fun time’s over. You’re obviously done here so I guess so am I,” she says with blistering directness.

“Whut?” Her firm palm pushing him up jars him back to full awareness. “Oh, wait, we’re not quite done,” he says, pulling out of the woman he’s just fucked without an ounce of consideration. He reaches for his pants pocket.

“What else could you possibly do at this point? You’ve already ejaculated.”

“Smile, Wonder Woman,” he says holding up his cell phone suddenly with his right hand. “It’s selfie time for me and my superheroine squeeze!” His lies back against her side, his left hand gripping her right breast and holding it up for the camera. He gives his biggest grin just as the flash goes off catching Wonder Woman in wide-eyed shock as his palm squeezes her tit with impunity. “Thanks, sugar. That’s one for the internet!”

“Hey, I never said you could do that!”

Wonder Woman’s complaint falls on deaf ears as a jubilant DuShawn clambers quickly out of the car. He steps into his underwear and his pants and buckles his belt as the Amazon warrior pulls her costume together inside the vehicle.

When she finally leaves the Dodge, Rondo and Kizzy have returned, clinging to each other beside the other whores outside the car.

“You ready to go, Rondo,” DuShawn asks. “We’ve got about five bars to hit tonight. I’m feeling top of my game!”

“Me too, brother, me too! Pipes all cleaned out. I’m a new man!”

“Then climb in, buddy. Thanks, ladies! It was historic!” DuShawn waves from the open window as Rondo pulls the car away from the curb with a screech of tires.

Wonder Woman is left on the curb with the group of whores, sulking at the rapid departure and her lack of sexual completion.

Yeah, maybe I was right about this whole whore thing in the first place. It sucks!

End of Chapter


I always appreciate feedback on my stories. Please comment here or contact me at [email protected] and let me know what you think, what you might like to see happen and whatever else is on your mind. I usually respond quite quickly after receiving any email. Thanks!

[tmon]

Boo Hoo. I've already read this chapter and have it on my HD!!

[DrDominator9]

Boo Hoo. I've already read this chapter and have it on my HD!!

Oh, well, you have an early first printing edition. I hope I autographed it for you?

[shzam]

Thanks Dr D! Sad to see its a stand alone but glad its here. Also found it on wizards lair using the web.archive.org but was hoping for more.

Hope to see you back to Wonder Woman in the future!

[tmon]

You did but you used invisible ink!!

Boo Hoo. I've already read this chapter and have it on my HD!!

Oh, well, you have an early first printing edition. I hope I autographed it for you?

[martinbill]

Another good one.

Any potential upcoming stories featuring Batgirl or Supergirl?

[DrDominator9]

I've got a pretty full plate right now with Invisible Woman story and writing my chapters of the Amazos series. When those are done, I'm working on an original heroine of my own. If you remember Destiny, the blonde super heroine from my story, "Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer," I will be writing a series about her. That series will eventually be posted at Smashwords, a pay site. It'll be a reasonably priced series with a 20-page chapter per month for about $2.99 per chapter. Anybody interested in supporting that endeavor?

[shzam]

I've got a pretty full plate right now with Invisible Woman story and writing my chapters of the Amazos series. When those are done, I'm working on an original heroine of my own. If you remember Destiny, the blonde super heroine from my story, "Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer," I will be writing a series about her. That series will eventually be posted at Smashwords, a pay site. It'll be a reasonably priced series with a 20-page chapter per month for about $2.99 per chapter. Anybody interested in supporting that endeavor?

Would check it out at least. Part of the kink for me at least is the history of the heroine. Wonder Woman and Supergirl are top because they are well known in the world of the story and so the fall is all the more. "Champion of all Woman" and all that adding to the public humiliation and decent into depravity.

Also 20 pages is an ambiguous amount, 20 pg (is that a standard of measure by smashwords?) a month for $2.99 might be pushing it but hope whatever you experiment with works out.

[DrDominator9]

Would check it out at least. Part of the kink for me at least is the history of the heroine. Wonder Woman and Supergirl are top because they are well known in the world of the story and so the fall is all the more. "Champion of all Woman" and all that adding to the public humiliation and decent into depravity.

Thanks for the feedback, shzam. I would certainly provide decent back story for any original heroine, slowly feeding it in between action scenes and such. I agree that the more invested you are in a superheroine, the better.

Also 20 pages is an ambiguous amount, 20 pg (is that a standard of measure by smashwords?) a month for $2.99 might be pushing it but hope whatever you experiment with works out.

Ambiguous? It's not any kind of Smashwords standard. That would be mine, of what it would take for it to be worthwhile for my audience to read on a monthly basis and for me to generate. That 20 pages would be a minimum, some months it could be 25 or more.

[RelativeH]

I've got a pretty full plate right now with Invisible Woman story and writing my chapters of the Amazos series. When those are done, I'm working on an original heroine of my own. If you remember Destiny, the blonde super heroine from my story, "Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer," I will be writing a series about her. That series will eventually be posted at Smashwords, a pay site. It'll be a reasonably priced series with a 20-page chapter per month for about $2.99 per chapter. Anybody interested in supporting that endeavor?

I'd definitely be interested in that. Loved the character of Destiny from that series, and would be great to see more of her through your writing!

I hadn't heard of Smashwords at all... are there any recommendations from that site?

[DrDominator9]

To be honest, I only know of Smashwords because Don Ship, another respected writer of SHIP series on this site, publishes there and I've read his works there over the years.

Here's the link to the site that you can follow to find more authors there from whom to purchase stories and books. https://www.smashwords.com There's a search feature for keywords on the upper right corner of the home page. Good luck.

[EdgarNightbird]

Hello. I liked this spinoff so much I wrote a follow-up chapter. Could I post it here, or would you like to read it first, since it is your story?

[shzam]

Hop Dr Dominator gets back to you soon. Would love to see some sort of continuation

[EdgarNightbird]

I call it "Hooking the Night Away - Second Trick is Bob". It's about WW meeting her second client for the night.
It's written in largely the same tone as the original story, but with my own style of course. I hesitate to make too many changes since it's not my own story, so I've stayed within tight borders. Perhaps too tight. We shall see.

[Jjhw2028]

I call it "Hooking the Night Away - Second Trick is Bob". It's about WW meeting her second client for the night.
It's written in largely the same tone as the original story, but with my own style of course. I hesitate to make too many changes since it's not my own story, so I've stayed within tight borders. Perhaps too tight. We shall see.

Could you Pm it to me?

[EdgarNightbird]

I'm glad to see there is interest for this great story to continue, and I hope my contribution will spark Dominator to write some kind of sequel to it. That said, I would like his permission before sharing anything.

[DrDominator9]

Back from my Alaska trip at last.

You have my permission to continue to add to this story. Have fun and good luck with it.

[EdgarNightbird]

Awesome. I will make final edits then and post it here asap. Welcome back! Hope the bears were nice.

[EdgarNightbird]

Well, here is my take on Wonder Woman's continued fate walking the streets. Although this one is a relatively mild encounter, the next client will not be as gentle, if we get there. Thank you to DrDominator9 for the original, excellent series "Supergirl Captured by the Mob". It is my hope that we will see more from the Dr on this captivating story in the future.


Hooking the Night Away - The Second Trick is Bob

The full moon hung low over the South Bronx, casting long shadows across the grimy streets. Diana's towering form cut an imposing silhouette as she strode down Jackson Avenue, her Amazonian curves barely contained by the cheap hooker outfit she'd been forced to don.

She cast a final glance over her shoulder at the purple Dodge peeling away from the curb, tires squealing. Good riddance. Her skin still stung from where DuShawn had left angry red marks in his eagerness to fuck her famous persona. But at least he had paid in full.

The other working girls had scattered, eager to claim the prime spots before the late-night crowd emerged from the bars. Diana sighed, shoulders slumping as she gazed down the empty street. Business had been painfully slow tonight, and she needed to land a few more clients if she hoped to make her dire quota of $150.

The neighborhood was eerily quiet at this late hour, save for the rustle of litter skittering across the cracked pavement and the echoing click of Diana's heels. Each step in the tacky red boots sent a jolt of discomfort up her muscular legs, making her want to tear them right off her feet, along with the other whorish garments sullying her demi-divine body.

Instead, Diana paused under a flickering streetlight to adjust her ill-fitting costume—a cheap knockoff of her once iconic Wonder Woman attire.

"By Hera," she muttered under her breath, tugging at the shoddy bustier. "What I wouldn't give for my old armor right about now." The irony wasn't lost on her—from Champion of Justice to street corner queen. Life, even the immortal variety, had a sick sense of humor indeed.

The synthetic fabric chafed against her skin, pulling and pinching in all the wrong places. Gone were her indestructible bracelets and gleaming tiara. In their place were plastic bangles and cheap fashion jewelry that left green marks on her sweat-damp skin. Her brilliant lasso of truth had been replaced by a length of frayed yellow rope, looped in tangled snarls at her waist. It was all so tawdry, so demeaning. But it was what Tony and the johns liked, so that was that.

Trying her best to ignore the shame coursing through her veins, Diana placed each long-legged stride with the last vestiges of her regal grace as she prowled her assigned territory. Garish streetlights cast harsh shadows across her face, accentuating the hollowness in her eyes. The gleam of righteous purpose in those azure pools was now replaced by a cold determination to survive these sordid circumstances she’d been thrust into. And survive them she would, no matter the terrible cost.

A stray cat yowled and darted into an alley. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed. Diana's enhanced hearing picked up snippets of heated arguments, cheesy TV-shows, and crude lovemaking from the surrounding tenements. So much pain and loneliness in this city. Once upon a time, she would have swooped in to help. Now she was just another lost soul trying to make ends meet. Earning her keep in the worst possible way.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since yesterday. If she was lucky, the meager earnings from tonight might be enough for a greasy meal at the all-night diner. But first, she needed to make her quota for Sergei. The thought of her pimp's meaty fists made Diana quicken her pace. She couldn't afford another 'lesson' in obedience. The bruise on her cheek from Sergei's backhand still throbbed occasionally beneath the layer of concealer, reminding her of the stakes at play.

Diana took a deep breath, inhaling the acrid city air—a pungent mix of exhaust fumes, garbage, and desperation. Not exactly the pristine beaches and lush forests of Themyscira. But Paradise Island was a distant memory now. This was her new reality, harsh and unforgiving.

Maybe one of these days, she'd bump into a knight in shining armor or a strong heroine, swooping in to save her from this hell—if such men or women existed anymore. Yeah, right. As if she deserved someone like that after the things she'd done.

The thought of how much she'd changed over the past few months threatened to drag Diana into a deep, dark abyss from which there was no return. She couldn't let that happen. An Amazon never quit, no matter the odds. Despite everything, she was still the heroine here, not the one in need of saving. Never forget that.

With renewed motivation, Diana forced herself back into character. Ignoring the blisters forming on her heels, she continued down the sidewalk, scanning for potential customers. She couldn't help but grimace at the stickiness in her cleavage and between her legs from her recent encounter with that gangster kid in his gaudy car, wishing she could stop somewhere and wash. But there was no time for that. She just had to hope her next client wouldn't mind getting sloppy seconds.

As she rounded the corner onto 151st Street, a flicker of movement caught Diana's eye, pulling her from her melancholy. In the shadows of an alley behind a seedy bar, she spotted a lurking man. Her heart quickened. This could be her chance!

The alley was a study in urban decay, littered with discarded needles and empty bottles. The stench of urine and rotting garbage nearly made her gag. But she pressed on, her eyes locked on the shadowy figure at the far end. Pushing aside her disgust for what she was about to do, Diana pasted on her most alluring smile and sauntered toward him with an exaggerated sway of her hips.

"Hey there, handsome," she purred, though the man before her was far from it. Middle-aged and paunchy, with a shiny bald pate, he was the picture of mediocrity. The rumpled, too-short brown suit he wore did not help matters. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and Diana was most certainly begging these days.

The man turned, surprise flashing in his eyes before shifting to a gawk of undisguised lust raking over her body, taking in her ridiculous yet revealing costume.

"You looking for some company tonight?" Diana said, her voice low and sultry. The words felt like ash in her mouth, so at odds with everything she once stood for. But she forced them out anyway.

He snorted, fumbling with his zipper. "Handsome? Lady, I ain't been called that since Reagan was in office. I was just about to take a leak, but... hell, why not? You new 'round here? Don't think I've seen you before."

"Just moved to the big city, sugar." Diana lied smoothly. "Thought I'd check out the nightlife."

He chuckled, a harsh raspy sound. "Not much nightlife in this dump. Say, what's with the getup? That some kinda superhero fetish thing?"

A hot flush crept up Diana's neck. She forced a coy giggle, as if it were all a game. "You caught me. Thought I'd spice things up a bit tonight. You like?"

"It's different, I'll give ya that." He squinted at her. "What's your name, dollface?"

"You can call me Diana," she said, watching him struggle with his fly. No point in using a fake name when her real one was plastered across every tabloid and porn shop in the city. "And you are...?"

"Bob," he replied, extending a clammy hand. "Bob from accounting."

Diana suppressed a shudder as she shook his hand, not wanting to think about where it had been.

He did a double take of her before turning back to face the wall, intent of finishing his urgent business. "You know, you actually look a helluva lot like the real Wonder Woman. It's kinda freaky."

A chill ran down Diana's spine. If only he knew how close to the truth he was. She smoothly diverted the subject. "So, Bob from accounting, care for some... heroic action tonight? I'll show you my superpowers. It's a deal too good to pass up, I promise." The tacky sales pitch made her want to vomit, yet her temptress smile held its practiced curve.

Bob's leer widened. "Color me intrigued. What's the going rate for a superheroine these days?"

"For you?" Diana leaned in, her voice a husky whisper as she aimed for maximum value. "Fifty dollars, and the whole nine yards is yours."

Bob finally got his zipper down, groaning in relief as he emptied his bladder against the alley wall. Diana gracefully stepped back to avoid getting splashed, not thrilled with that crude response to her generous business proposal.

"Ah hell, I'd love to Wondy, but I just remembered I'm flat broke." Bob said over his shoulder, his stream painting the chipped bricks a darker red. "Lost it all at the track today. Damn nag couldn't outrun a three-legged donkey. Besides, you look like you'd be on the pricey side. Not sure I could afford you anyhow."

The backhanded remark was probably the closest thing to a compliment Diana had received in weeks. She latched onto it, desperate for any scrap of validation. "Oh, I'm very accommodating," she said, placing an inviting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure we can work something out." Diana's inner diplomat, honed through years of peacekeeping, took charge of the sordid transaction. "I've got a menu for every budget. How much do you have on you?"

Bob shook his dick, zipped up with some difficulty, and dug deep in his pockets, coming up with a handful of crumpled bills and loose change. "About three bucks," he said sheepishly. "Maybe three-fifty if we hit up the vending machine."

Diana's heart sank. "Oh."

"Yeah, like I said, bad night."

Diana bit back a sigh. Of course. Why couldn't she ever land a john with deep pockets? Three lousy dollars. Barely enough for bus fare, let alone to satisfy Sergei's demands. But it was better than nothing. She pasted on a bright smile, trying to maintain some level of optimism. "That's okay, sugar. Like I said, I've got some... options... for that price range too. Besides, I'm feeling generous tonight. How about we work out a... special arrangement?"

Bob's eyes lit up. "Yeah? Like what?"

Diana swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "Well, for fifty cents, you can either feel up my ass or grab my tits—your choice. Two bucks'll get you a handy. And for the full three, well... I'm sure we can work something out."

As she listed her absolute cheapest services, Diana cringed at how far she'd fallen. This was apparently her life now: The great Wonder Woman, reduced to turning tricks on the street for any man with a few greasy dollars to spare. She couldn't have imagined a worse fate for herself, even if she'd tried her damndest.

Bob considered for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "How much for a kiss?"

"Sorry sugar, kissing's off limits," Diana said firmly. It was one of her few remaining boundaries. "That one's reserved for special cases only."

"Really? What kind of 'special cases'?"

"For... particular clients. It's too intimate, you see," she tried to explain, not expecting him to understand.

Bob's gaze lingered on her lips, disappointment tinging his voice. "Well, that's a damn shame. Was hoping to taste those luscious lips of yours."

A flicker of pride ran through Diana on receiving her second compliment from this man. Then immediately, she hated herself for it. When had she sunk so low that the drunken leering of some pathetic john actually made her feel good?

Diana curved those expensive lips into what she hoped was an enticing smile. "Thank you. There are, however...other fun things I can do with my mouth," she said with a wink. "A blowjob is nine dollars flat. Special weekend rate."

Bob's eyes went wide. "Nine bucks? Damn, that's a steal! But I told ya, I only got three on me. Shouldn't have gambled away the rent money."

"Probably not," Diana agreed, forcing a sympathetic smile. This was going nowhere fast.

"Tell ya what," Bob said, stepping closer, his breath sour with cheap whiskey. "Before I decide, how 'bout you give me a little preview? Let me get a peek at what I'm buyin'."

Diana hesitated. At this point, she should walk away and chalk this guy up as a loss. But the night was getting late and she was desperate for any kind of sale. With a smile as fake as her costume, she struck a heroic pose, one hand on her hip, channeling her former glory even in this degraded state.

"Alright. Feast your eyes, big boy."

She leaned forward in an exaggerated manner, deepening the canyon between her breasts, which already pouted well over the top of the bustier and its tarnished golden eagle W.

Bob's gaze roved over her statuesque body. "Hot damn. Are those real?" he asked, gesturing to her ample chest.

"As real as the rest of me!" Diana snapped, unable to mask her indignation. Try as she might, she couldn’t help but take any comparisons with fake-titted whores as a personal insult. Amazon pride died hard, even out here in dirty back alleys.

Bob took a step back, a sudden frown on his unshaven face. Diana cursed. Once again, her temper was about to get her into trouble. Seeing her potential client's interest waver, she quickly turned around and struck a new pose, giving him a view from all angles.

To smooth over her verbal slip, she lifted the hem of her short skirt, revealing a flawless expanse of toned olive thigh, knee to ass. Knowing the effect it would have, she flexed the long, lean muscles in an intimate display, then gave her bottom a firm, open-handed slap, as if to prove to him how firm and supple that cheek-flesh was.

At his sharp intake of breath, Diana smirked. Got him! Hook, line, and sinker.

"Sweet mother," he said. "You're built like a goddess!"

If only he knew how right he was. Diana allowed herself another small smile of satisfaction. At least she still had that effect on men, even in this tawdry getup.

"Like what you see?" she asked coyly.

Bob nodded. "Hell yeah! Listen, how much for a rub & tug again?"

"Two-fifty," Diana replied, plumping the fare a bit now that she only had to reel him in. "Including the happy ending."

He whistled. "Whoa, inflation's hittin' everyone hard, huh? Used to be able to get the full girlfriend experience for five bucks back in my day. For two-fifty, I'd better get to cum on your tits at the very least."

Diana sighed. "What can I say? Times are tough." If he only knew how tough her circumstances had become, she thought bitterly. "But yes, that can be arranged."

Bob considered for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, you drive a hard bargain Wondie. But I want the full experience. I get to look at that pretty face of yours up close while you do it. Full eye contact. And I want you to talk dirty to me. None of that fake pornstar moaning bullshit."

Diana hesitated. Normally such embellishments would cost extra, but at this point she just wanted to close the deal and be done with it, petty as it was. "You got it, stud," she acquiesced. "Now let's see what you're packing under that zipper."

She reached for his fly, but Bob's clumsy fingers got there first. He fumbled with the zipper, cursing under his breath.

"Fuckin' piece of shit... c'mon, you sonuvabitch..."

Diana watched, torn between amusement and impatience. "Need a hand there, cowboy?"

"I got it, I got it," Bob grumbled. "Just gimme a sec... ah, there we go!"

The zipper finally surrendered, at least to a point halfway down his crotch, which was as far as it would go before getting stuck.

Diana stepped closer, ready to begin the transaction, but Bob held up a hand to stop her. "Wait! Before we begin, can you, uh, reiterate the details? Just wanna be clear we're on the same page here."

Diana bit back a groan of frustration, her patience wearing thin. This again? What was it with men not trusting an honest whore to do her part these days? Oh, goddess, did I just think that?

"Of course, honey," she said, clearing her throat. "Here's the deal: For two dollars and fifty cents, I will stroke you until completion and allow you to ejaculate on my tits. I'll stand nice and close so you can look at my face, and I'll talk dirty the whole time. I will also make sure to maintain sultry eye contact throughout. Is that clear enough?" Diana covered up a wince. Speaking her lewd plans out loud made them sound all the more despicable, and she had to swallow hard against the sour taste the vile words left in her mouth.

"Crystal clear," Bob grinned. "You've got yourself a deal, Wonder Woman." He held out the sorry handful of cash he had scrounged up from his pockets.

Diana quickly counted out the correct amount and tucked the money into her boot, trying not to think about how little it was compared to what she should have earned for such personal service.

Time to get into character.

Diana plastered on her sultriest smile, making sure Bob had a clear view of her face as promised. Being a hand taller than him in her spiked boots, she tilted her chin down to meet his eyes. She fixed him with a smoldering gaze and trailed her hand down his chest and over his protruding belly before cupping the bulge in his pants, giving it a light squeeze.

"Ready for me to rock your world, big boy?" she purred.

Bob groaned in response, already hardening under her touch. Their prep talk must have turned him on. Good, it would make this sordid affair quicker. Diana steeled herself and got to work, her nimble fingers making quick work of his troublesome zipper.

Dipping her hand into the opening she'd made, and going deep under his briefs, she grabbed his sweaty balls first, giving them a teasing scratch and gentle squeeze before sliding her fingers up to his cock. He wasn't the largest she'd seen, but his girth filled her palm. She brought him out into the open for a closer look. Uncircumcised. Mottled with spots and stray hairs. The purplish head shone, sticky with precum and leftover piss from his recent bladder relief. Not a pretty sight.

Well, she wouldn't have to look at it to do her job. Diana wrapped her hand tighter around the shaft, suppressing a grimace at the clammy feel.

"Mmm, look at this big boy," she cooed, her voice low and breathy. "You're gonna make me feel so good, aren't you?" Her strokes were slow and gentle: base to tip, tip to base, finger-scratch his balls, then slide back up to the tip again. She put her face inches from his as promised, pouted her full lips, and whispered more hot, filthy words right up against him, her warm breath rolling over his piggish features.

In no time, he grew hard as rock in her hand.

Bob grunted, his hips jerking forward. "Y-yeah, that's it. Talk dirty to me, Wonder Slut."

"Mmm, you feel so big already," she teased, forcing herself to ignore the bile rising in her throat. "I bet you've been thinking about this all day, haven't you? Dreaming of my soft hands wrapped around your thick cock..."

Bob's eyes glazed over with lust as he stared at her beautiful face, their eyes meeting mere inches apart. Brilliant crystal blue vs pale bloodshot brown. Diana kept up the stream of filthy words, her hand working steadily. She tried to dissociate, to pretend she was somewhere, anywhere, else. But it was impossible to fully escape the reality of what she was doing.

Wrapping her fingers tigher around the shaft to increase friction, she began pumping her fist, making slick sounds that echoed between the dingy walls of their quiet little alley.

Diana leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear. "You like that, don't you, hmm? You like having Wonder Woman on her knees, begging for your cock?"

"Fuck yeah," Bob groaned. "Always knew you were a dirty little whore under that costume. Jerk that cock, Wonder bitch."

Diana's jaw clenched, but she kept up the act. "That's right, baby. I'm your personal superhero cumslut. Use me however you want."

"Uuhng... W-wait!" he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Flustered at the untimely interruption, Diana stopped, removed her hand, and backed up a step. What now?

"You're too dry," he complained.

Diana sighed, almost rolling her eyes. "One moment, let me take care of that." She brought her hand up to her face, tried not to smell his cock on her fingers, worked up some saliva, and spat a generous glob into her palm, then returned her hand below. Soon, the fapping noises resumed in a slicker cadence, joined by a satisfied male groan.

"Yes, much better!" he said, his voice thick with arousal.

"Good, now where were we?" Diana said. "Oh yes, Wonder Slut wanted to see just how big and hard she could make this gorgeous cock... how much cum she could milk out of it..."

Diana didn't move her face away from his for a second, maintaining unbroken eye contact as her hand pistoned with practiced skill, alternating between long, slow strokes and quick, teasing flicks of her thumb over the sensitive head.

When his grunts began to increase in both volume and frequency, Diana adjusted her grip, adding a twist to every upstroke of her rapid fisting. She upped her pace, ignoring the signs of her wrist tiring from the repetitive motion.

Bob's reddened face contorted, a strangled groan escaping his lips. "Uhhnn...."

"Oh yeah, that's it," Diana cooed. "Your cock feels so good in my hand. I bet you're going to cum so hard for me."

The middle-aged accountant's breathing grew ragged as Diana kept jerking him off like a pro. He tensed, getting closer to the edge. A little longer and this degrading encounter would be over.

As she worked his shaft, Bob's hands pawed at her bustier-encased mounds. "Goddamn, these things are perfect. They real? Really real?"

"I told you. One hundred percent Amazonian, sugar," Diana replied, increasing her pace. "Want a closer look?"

Bob nodded eagerly, and Diana paused her cock-jerking to pull down the top of her costume, letting her breasts spill free. His eyes bulged, transfixed by the sight.

"Holy shit," he breathed. "I died and went to titty heaven."

Diana smirked. "Why don't you give them a little squeeze? Show me how much you like them." It was more than he'd paid for, but at this point Diana didn't care. As long as he shot his load anytime between now and sunrise.

Bob didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed her tits in his pudgy hands, sinking stubby fingers into their firm softness. Diana bit her lip, reminding herself that this would all be over soon.

"That's it, big boy," she said. "You're so hard for me now. I bet you're gonna cum buckets, aren't you?"

Bob breathed hard. "Fuck yeah, I'm gettin' close. Keep talking, you dirty bitch."

Diana's voice dropped to a husky whisper. "I want you to paint these super tits with your hot load. Mark your territory all over Wonder Woman's perfect rack. Show me what a big, strong man you are. Dominate the best and brightest of Themyscira's Amazons."

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Bob panted, his hips jerking erratically. "Here it comes... FUCK!"

"That's it, sugar," Diana encouraged in a voice that didn't feel like her own. "Give me everything you have. Spray those dirty tits."

In a fluid motion, Diana sank to her knees and angled her chest just in time to catch his release, the hot spurts painting her naked breasts in streak after thick streak. Judging by the sheer amount and force of his emission, this poor man had not cum in a while. No surprise there. Diana couldn't imagine many women wanting to willingly spend quality time with this loser.

"That's it, baby," she cooed. "Give it all to me. Oooh, I love feeling your hot cum all over my tits."

She continued stroking him through the aftershocks, murmuring words of praise for his manliness. The show wasn't over until the last drop had been squeezed out. Despite the depraved aspects of this line of work, Diana still took pride in a job well done.

She grimaced as the sticky fluid trickled deeper down her cleavage to dampen her fake bustier, but maintained her sultry expression.

As Bob sagged against the alley wall, Diana reached for the tissues she kept tucked in a boxed compartment on her cardboard 'powerbelt'. She wiped her hand discreetly, then offered one to Bob. He took it with a mumbled thanks, his eyes already glazing over with post-orgasmic lethargy.

Diana stepped back, giving him space to compose himself. She scanned the alley entrance, ever alert for potential threats or interruptions, whether from competition, robbers or the police. The street remained deserted, the only sound the distant wail of sirens and Bob's labored breathing.

She still hadn't gotten over the fact that she was breaking the law every night she was out here engaging in this shameful business—the same law she had so avidly upheld for decades before taking her fateful plunge into drug-fueled depravity.

"Goddamn," Bob panted, coming back to his senses. "That was amazing! Just... wow," he said, tucking himself away. He fumbled with his zipper again, eventually leaving it half-open. "You're something else, Wonder Woman."

Diana forced a smile. "Glad you enjoyed yourself, sugar." She turned and took a few long-strided steps toward the alley mouth, eager to put this sordid meeting behind her now that her job was done.

"Wait," Bob called. Diana paused, tensing. Sometimes customers wanted more, tried to haggle for extras. She was not in the mood for such talks tonight, and this guy was fresh out of cash.

Bob fumbled in his pocket, producing a quarter he probably hadn't known he had in there. "Here. A tip. You... you're good at what you do."

Diana took the bonus money, surprise momentarily cracking her professional facade. "Thank you, Bob," she said softly, meaning it for perhaps the first time that night. "Same time next week?" she offered with a wry smile.

Bob chuckled. "Yeah, maybe. If I hit it big at the track, I might splurge for the full package."

"Looking forward to it," Diana replied, forcing a warm smile. "You have a good night now, Bob."

He straightened his rumpled suit. "Well, I'd better get home before the missus starts wondering where I am. Thanks for the good time, Wondie!"

As he stumbled away down the dark street, Diana leaned heavily against the brick wall. She felt hollowed out, disconnected from her body. Was this really what her life had become? Servicing sweaty strangers—married men!—in back alleys for pocket change?

She looked down at her costume, at the cheap imitation of the symbol she had once worn with such pride. What would her sisters on Themyscira think if they could see her now? What would her mother say?

She doubled over and nearly vomited by the wall, barely managing to control her roiling stomach. The scattered needles on the ground reminded her of the growing need calling out from her veins. It had been hours since her last fix, but the next one wouldn't come until her work here was done, however long it took.

Diana stood to her full height, rearranged her silly costume on her used body, and drew a deep breath. Composure restored, she exited the alley on aching feet and stepped back out onto the street. The night was wearing on, but there was still time to scrape together enough money to appease Sergei and live to fight another day. An Amazon never gave up. But could she call herself a warrior anymore?

Diana hadn't taken ten steps down the darkened street before a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. The tinted window rolled down, revealing a face Diana recognized all too well. She groaned. Of all the people she could have run into tonight, this was the last man she wanted to see right now.

"Well, well, well," drawled a familiar voice. "If it isn't Wonder Whore herself. Business slow tonight, princess?"

(to be continued)