Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer

[Void]

Wow, really enjoyable stuff. I was shocked with how much more was added to this since the last time I checked - big kudos to you for your fiendish rate of output. I'm loving Pascal's brand of domination, and WW teetering between submission and defiance. It would have been easy during a drawn out process like this to stop bothering to keep WW's character consistent, or to give her wild shifts in mood, but I like how you stuck to her character and kept the whole thing credible to read. Really drew me in. I'm liking this story more each time I visit it. I like that your heroines aren't pushovers.

[DrDominator9]

Thank you, Void, for your kind words. I strive to offer a blend of realism, humor, peril, and eroticism in every chapter. I'm pleased you think I'm succeeding in that.

[tallyho]

^^^^ In SPADES!

So impressive you keep up the quality of penmanship (fingertipmanship? ) post after post. I like the cold detachment of the scientific journal entries in the earlier posts - helped build up the sense of impending doom for the next heroine in line.
(I'm still one post behind, just felt praise was over due! I might well add something more once I've caught up!)

[DrDominator9]

Yes! He finally posted another chapter. About frigging time!

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 30

The heavy wooden door at the top of the stone steps blocks Wonder Woman’s way. Anxiously, she turns the bolt and is elated to hear the heavy mechanism slide smoothly into its channel. Pulling on the door, it slowly swings open. The room facing her is some sort of utility room with mops, cleansers and pails. The door to the basement lab is a shelving unit on its other side, a hidden passageway to Pascal’s lab.

“Lovely upscale townhouse with secret mad scientist lab, full amenities, mint condition. To die for,” Diana mumbles to herself and then realizes that her brain is now working better than it has in hours. All the drugs have worn off and she finally feels like herself. She’s thrilled to know it. “Now how do I get out of this hell-hole,” she ponders aloud.

Crossing to the door on the opposite wall, the heroine clad only in the scanty silk orange skirt of the fallen Destiny, opens the door and cautiously looks into the hallway outside. There’s nothing aimed at the door that she can tell and, fearing that Pascal is already on his feet by now and coming after her, Wonder Woman steps out into the open space. Far off to her left is a living room while far to her right is a dining room. She dashes for the living room, thinking the front door must be nearby. The slippery skirt flares out as she runs, showing off the curves of her thighs and the smooth bottoms of her bare buttocks wobbling beneath to unseen pinhole cameras positioned strategically throughout the house. They’re all recording to separate files but not going out to any live feeds for now.

Wonder Woman reaches the front door and is overjoyed. She twists the doorknob but it’s locked. She tries turning the bolt but it won’t move. She bangs the door angrily with her fist and whines, “No, no. I can’t believe this! Why is he a step ahead of me on everything?!”

She’s got to get out somehow and get help. Or at least get away from this man. But the cold air from her jerky movements makes her realize she’s virtually naked. Diana, her eyes wide with desperation, looks around, searching for a closet and a coat of any kind but there’s nothing in her field of vision and she’s running out of time. The bastard Frenchman is calling out for her as he ascends the stone steps. She can hear his voice coming from the swing-away shelving unit she’d left open in her haste to escape.

“Wonder Woman. Come back to me. We have more games to play! Come on, mon ami. Don’t be like this. Be a good little girl. I will give you something delicious to suck on, cherie! Like candy only better!”

Deciding she can’t go outside half naked no matter how she finally finds a way out, Diana makes the only logical choice. She extends her arms and then twirls quickly in the middle of the hallway. Her bare breasts stretch out and form a fleshy blur before the area fills with a blinding light and a loud pop of air as if an opening had suddenly been sucked closed tight by a huge vacuum.. A mere two seconds later, Diana Prince is standing in the hall wearing a simple blue skirt and fresh white blouse, the same clothes she’d been wearing when she climbed into Pascal’s window earlier that same morning. She is wearing pantyhose but no shoes. They’d dropped off when she’d been caught trying to get out the window. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She can barely believe it’s only Sunday night.

“Not a good day for my footwear,” she says, looking down at the seams in the toes of her stocking feet. Still, she feels better, calmer now that she’s wearing clothes again. “Now where’s another way out of this place?”

She takes two strides forward and then she freezes in place, remembering the small memory stick with the evidence of Pascal’s experiments upstairs in his study. She’d hidden it under the snow globe of Paris. If she runs out of the house now and returns with the police, who knows how much evidence he can destroy before she returns. She needs that stick. Frowning, Diana turns in place and sees the stairway to the upper levels right there. Without hesitation, she quickly scampers up it.

“Where are you, my big-breasted heroine? I have much better games to play than Hide and Seek.” Pascal is in the hallway just outside the utility room. He is holding the small video camera and scanning the area with it. “We can play Hide the Salami. Much more fun!”

Suddenly he hears the quick dull thumping of footsteps on the main stairs and heads in that direction. Softly he speaks for his internet audience.

“It appears that Wonder Woman is headed back upstairs for some reason instead of fleeing out the front door. I wonder why? Shall we follow and see,” he asks in a conspiratorial tone filled with mirth. Of course, he’d sealed all the doors into lock-down mode earlier so he wasn’t afraid the Amazon beauty would escape that way. There was that window in his study though. He’d closed it but if she were desperate enough, she might try to break it. Since it was triple-paned armored glass like all the windows in the place, he wasn’t much concerned. He’d get there long before she could make a dent in it. Without her belt, she was only as strong as a body builder, not superhuman. Striding down the hall with his camera still feeding the signal to the Internet audience, he’s giving them a cinema verite show: a chase scene that is slowly building more and more visitors to his website he imagines.

“Could it be that our illustrious super friend is going to try to reach help via the home phone in the study?” Pascal’s voice is a loud stage whisper. “Perhaps she will try to call 911? How sad it will be for her to discover I have cut off phone access while in lock-down mode. Tsk, tsk. I am smarter than you, Wonder Woman. You should know that by now. Say, I have an idea, I will switch to search mode on the house cameras for you viewers and maybe we will see where the little minx is headed. How about that, eh?”

Pascal takes out his cell phone and quickly taps through to the app he’s devised for the camera system within the house. He switches to the multiple view grid on his screen and sees the figure of a woman in a navy skirt and a white blouse holding onto the railing of his second floor landing. She’s heading toward his study. Momentarily perplexed, Pascal looks at the screen of his cell phone. Had someone else come in his house? Another agent? But then he realizes the figure can be no other than his Amazon prey. She’d switched back to her other persona.

Dejected that his prize is no longer naked, Pascal whispers to the camera’s audio input, “Who can that female be? Where is Wonder Woman? Things have gotten interesting. But while I chase this new quarry down, I need to be doubly careful so I will show you a bit of what went on earlier with Wonder Woman. Here is a clip of the interesting bondage rig I subjected her to earlier. Enjoy it and don’t forget to send all your friends the link to this site, Wonder Woman Screwed! They will be forever grateful you clued them into the fun. In the meantime, I will be back after I have recaptured Wonder Woman. Do not worry about that people. It is a done deal! Meanwhile enjoy this remarkable scene of the Champion of All Women reduced to a helpless upended turtle!”

Pushing a button on the phone, the app cuts to a view of Wonder Woman on her back with her body twisted into a human pretzel, writhing in frustration, her pussy showing through the tatters of her famous starred panties. Smiling at the image being fed to the world-wide web, Pascal puts the phone in his pocket, shuts off the microphone and hooks the hand-held camera onto his belt. Then proceeds upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

“Cherie, play time is over. We have terms to discuss. You need to come out now and face the music, Wonder Woman.”

* * *

Around the time Wonder Woman was getting her ass whipped by Pascal holding her lasso and guiding her towards his laboratory, the two police detectives on the case were trying to make their way to Pascal’s Chevy Chase residence without much success.

“It’s goddam Sunday evening and nobody’s got anything better to do than demonstrate in front of the fucking Chinese Embassy?”

Detective Sal Abato is furious as his car faces a line of police barricades that completely blocks off Connecticut Avenue. On the other side of the blue sawhorses, chanting demonstrators shout demands at the uncaring barred windows staring back at them.

“Free Chao Tsing! Hear Freedom Ring! Free Chao Tsing! Hear Freedom Ring!” The crowd repeats these words with a vehemence born
of two hours practice. The phalanx of cops facing the fist-waving mob seems bored at this duty by now to Jimmy Glendennan, Abato’s partner. Nevertheless, he’s just as annoyed as Sal at the delay in getting to the residence of their suspect.

“Hell, we’re going to have to go all the way over to Wisconsin Avenue and then up and around to get to Chevy Chase from here.”

“I was going to have some of the boys help us go straight through while I run the siren,” the older Italian detective says, not joking.

“That’s crazy, Sal. They’ll damage the car. Dent the hood, who knows what. Maybe even pull us out. You’ll cause an international incident. Don’t be silly. Go back and over to Wisconsin.”

“That’ll be an extra twenty minutes easy. Things could be going south for that heroine even now.”

“You won’t help her by getting us beaten and stomped on before we can get there. Sal, I’m telling you this is irresponsible.”

A beat cop comes up to Sal’s window and raps gently on it with his night stick and Sal powers down the window with the push of a button.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, fella. Can’t you see what’s going on here? Clear this heap out of here before I start writing you a ticket.”

“The name’s Detective Abato, Officer....Stiles,” Sal says, reading the name badge on the shirt. “We’re on our way to question a possible homicide perp up in Chevy Chase.”

“Oh, terribly sorry, Detective. I’ll just move these 1200 screaming people right out of your way. I’m sure they won’t mind, you crazy son of a bitch!”

“What?!”

“You heard me, Detective. Get real and get out of here. There’s no way I’m letting you through this way. My captain would have me patrolling Porta-Johns on the mall in mid-winter if I let you through here. Go the fuck over to Wisconsin like a sane person, would you?”

“I’d like a little more professionalism out of you, Sergeant, before I go. There’s no call for your attitude,” Abato growls.

“Hey, pal. I’ve been here for three hours dealing with these nut jobs and their freedom to assemble. I don’t need some jerkwad homicide dick setting off these firecrackers more than they already are.”

“Hey, who’s a nut job?” A Chinese student stops waving his fist and chanting at the embassy and turns his head around toward the beat cop.

“Did you just call me a firecracker, you racist pig,” snarls a young Asian girl carrying a banner declaring: Tsing is China’s heart. Let him beat free! “Because I’m studying law and that’s very close to a hate crime!”

“Fine, I’m out of here,” Abato says, backing up his car quickly as the crowd around the beat cop gets nastier. “Have a fine day, Officer Stiles.”

“No thanks to you, you crazy fuck! No, miss,” he turns toward the lawyer-to-be using placating tones, “I assure you I was not disparaging your heritage....”

“The hell you weren’t!” She bellies up to him, her face coming up to his collar, her dark brown eyes shining with righteous vigor. The chanting behind her gets louder and less friendly as Abato pulls away.

“That went well,” Jimmy says, smirking at his partner. “And not a waste of time or incendiary to the situation in any way.”

“Hey, I had to give it a shot, right? We mighta’ gotten through” Abato says defensively as he hits the accelerator.

“Yeah, right. And that dissident might be freed tomorrow with a complimentary fortune cookie by a chastened Chinese dictatorship,” Jimmy replies. “You wanted to make that right you just passed.”

“I knew that!”

* * *

Diana Prince is crouching in Pascal’s study behind his desk. Her skirt is tight against her thighs, showing off her incredible shape as she wonders what on earth she can do now. The window is locked down and her efforts to open it have been futile, as have her elbow shots to the glass. All she has for her efforts is a sore elbow, a sweaty blouse that clings to her amazing shape and a rising sense of panic.

“I know you are in my study, Wonder Woman. My security cameras show me that you’ve suddenly acquired a new set of clothes. Since they do not look like my castoffs I suggest you listen to me very carefully. Your clothes may very well give away your identity at this point.”

Diana looks down with a grimace at her IADC uniform. He’s got a point. She is screwed!

“But here’s my deal, Amazon. I’ll give you a full 60 seconds to change back to your mighty true self. Longer than that and I broadcast my house feed straight to my Internet feed and the whole world knows your secret identity. You know I can document it with a video of when you changed earlier.”

“How do I know you already haven’t revealed that. Or that you won’t do it whenever you please.”

“It’s my ace in the hole, champ. I want your full cooperation in my little Internet presentation. I’m willing to bargain for that with your identity. You have 60 seconds from right now, Wonder Woman. For the moment, my site is showing reruns of some of your escapades earlier today between us. When you come out of the study, I will begin broadcasting live again. You will do everything I command you to do. You will not refer to me by name. You can, of course, use sir or master or some other non-identifying verbiage. I will put my phone app in voice command mode. If you don’t behave I will call out a code word and your little spinning switch gets broadcast worldwide. What do you say, champ? Do we have a deal?”

“I need to think...”

“Take your time, cherie. You have at least 38 seconds left.”

“I don’t trust you, Pascal. You are a liar and a cheat.”

“Not a lot of choice, Diana. Twenty-nine seconds, mon amie. I know it does not take you long to change but you had better account for the timing of it. I am a very precise man, as you know: a scientist with calipers and everything.”

“Damn you!” Wonder Woman’s fists are balled tight in frustration. She has no recourse. No options. With no belt, no weapons and no hope of countering him, she stands up from behind the desk as Diana Prince, her face morose, her shoulders slumped. She will have to leave the memory stick where it is under the Paris snow globe for now. She only hopes there will be a chance to retrieve it later. She doubts it will come.

“Twenty-two seconds, mon ami. The choice is yours.”

“Okay! Fine. Turn off the clock. I’ll do it.” She’s going to take the only option left to her if she wants to continue to fight for peace and justice in Man’s World.

“The clock stops only when you come out here with your arms spread wide and your head bowed, Wonder Woman. I would make it snappy if I were you. Fourteen seconds.”

Choking back a gulp and a surge of tears, Diana spreads her arms wide and quickly turns in a tight circle. A blinding light and the popping sound of air being sucked into a quickly closed hole fills the study for a mere second. And suddenly there’s the stunning sight of a statuesque raven-haired beauty spinning in place with an orange skirt flared straight out and her bald pussy showing as it winks in the light. The entire event is captured by the security system in its files for future reference if necessary.

A blinking Pascal looks at his phone screen as it and he recover from the flash of light. He checks the time on the phone and quickly takes the camera off his belt. Pressing the app link, he focuses on the doorway to the study just as Wonder Woman steps out. The feed to the website is now live from his handheld as she crosses to him, her arms wide, her full breasts marvelously displayed, the silky orange skirt accenting the beauty of her lower curves nicely even as her head is hung in complete mortification.

“A full three seconds to spare, cherie,” Pascal says with a smirk. “Now lift your head and smile at the camera for your thousands of admirers. Oh, and say, ‘Hello world, I am the real Wonder Woman,’ with a nice wave at the camera.”

The famous Amazon does lift her head but there’s no smile and no waving greeting. There is only cold fierce anger in the arctic blue eyes directed at the lens that has more than a few viewers’ heads rearing back from their monitors in alarm.

“Do it, bitch. NOW!!!” Pascal barks. “Or you know what happens.”

“Hello World!”

“Smile, cunt!”

The pasty weak grimace on Wonder Woman’s face would scare small children and the sudden callous wave would have them flinching as well.

“I am the real Wonder Woman,” murmurs the six-foot beauty.

“If you are going to take direction this badly, Wonder Woman, you will leave me no choice but to tell these people...”

“Hello World!” Wonder Woman’s face lights up brighter and the wave is as genuine as the miserable beauty can make it. “I am the real Wonder Woman. Believe me, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Are you doing this of your own free will, Wonder Woman?”

“Of course not, I am being coerced.”

“But you are making a choice here to obey me, yes?”

“Yes. But only because...”

“...because I hold all the cards. That’s enough talk for now. Walk over to the wall there and put your palms against it.”

Wonder Woman obeys and Pascal backs up to the railing overlooking the first floor foyer. He then focuses on the silky orange skirt covering the shapely rear of the Amazon.

“Spread your arms wider, cherie, say, about three feet wide, please.”

After she does so, Pascal steps forward with the camera in hand and captures the view of his left hand caressing Wonder Woman’s ass, squeezing the fabric and the cheek firmly as the mute heroine simply allows it to happen. Her thigh muscles twitch but that is all.

“Excellent, cherie. You will not resist anything I do, yes?”

“Yes, I will not resist, you pathetic excuse for a human.”

“As long as we understand each other, Wonder Woman, that is all that I or your audience is concerned with. I am now going to finger fuck you.”

“Of course you are. Your penis is probably no larger. I will not know the difference.”

“We both know that is not the truth, cherie. In any case, stay as you are and accept what I do without resistance, oui?”

“Yes, Pas...UUNNGHH!” Wonder Woman grunts as the kidney punch steals all her breath away.

“I remind you of the use of proper names. It would be bad for both of us, bitch. Now spread your legs a little wider.”

The moment she does, Pascal slides his left hand under her skirt rubs his finger against her slit. Her hips shiver slightly within the skirt but that is all.

“Oh, dear me. Dry as a preacher’s liquor cabinet down there. Let me caress you to help you get in the mood, my prize.”

“There’s not enough liquor on the planet, toad,” Wonder Woman says to the wall, her arms spread wide, her head up, defiant.

“We shall see, hero.” Pulling his hand out from under the skirt, Pascal spits on his two forefingers and replaces them under the skirt, rapidly rubbing his saliva in the folds of her inner labia and then caressing his fingers up and under the hood of her hidden clit. He rubs the tiny nub vigorously and Wonder Woman’s ass shakes at this intrusion even as she gives the tiniest puff of exasperation.

After a minute of manual manipulation, the Amazon still remains unmoved sexually, with only the spit from the earlier application providing any lubrication.

“Okay, I grant you that you are a strong-willed beauty, cherie. Let me see how you stand up to this little toy.” Pulling a tiny device out of his suit jacket pocket, Pascal slips a thin latex cap over his middle finger, it is attached by two wires to a tiny blue cylinder the size of a roll of Lifesavers. “For the audience’s benefit I will explain. This handy device I am now turning on supplies vibration and lubrication via my fingertip. I will using it to excite your clit. You will enjoy it immensely, I suspect.”

“Is this still part of your grand experiment, miscreant, or are you now making things up as you go along?”

“Let us just say that I am still assessing your capacity for humiliation, Wonder Woman.”

With that, the Frenchman lifts up the back hem of the orange skirt and tucks it into the waistband then zooms in on his hand as it probes into her snatch and up into the apex of her lower lips. She feels the humming finger and the cool sensation of wet latex gliding over and around her clit and the heroine’s eyes go wide with surprise.

How can that feel so good so quickly?

Pressing her palms against the wall, Wonder Woman tries to push a hole through it as she grimaces against the feelings the magic finger is creating within her already.

“..tuh..tuh...toys...and t...tools....It’s all you little puh...pih..pipsqueaks have when it comes to puh..pleasing w...women. Not a.. ruh..ruh...real....m...man...uh..uh...a...among you...” She says with an angry but helpless stutter.

“You will change your tune about that soon enough, my pretty heroine.”

Pascal begins to rapidly finger fuck the Champion of All Women. The hand moves rapidly up and down as the penetrating fingers repeatedly slide in and out of the bald pussy presented to the camera. The hand becomes a blur of motion as the thick slapping noise of a now wet orifice being penetrated over and over fills the air.

“...h..hera....this....is not...fuh...fuh...f...fair....” The beautiful woman wriggles helplessly in place now. Her neck arches, her head shakes from side to side. The front of the skirt not tucked up into the waistband sways back and forth as the wide hips of the sexually-aroused heroine circle and grind despite herself. She can feel a tightness in her stomach building and she is horrified at just how rapidly her body has betrayed her. Shaking, the mighty heroine lets out a pitiful sob at being so easily bested.

“That feels too good to fight, doesn’t it Wonder Woman. You would be ready to cum soon, yes?”

“...wh...w..what’s....it to...yuh..you...puh..pi...pig...?...”

“It is all about the timing, my dear. That is my chief concern here. Be honest with me. You will be cumming on my hand soon, non?”

“..n...no...no...i....don’t...i...don’t....want to... I don’t!”

“Then you shall not for now. Because now is the moment when I must ask all the visitors to my website to make a choice,” Pascal says, pressing the app so the hallway’s ceiling camera now takes the live feed. He checks the figure in the tiny window in the lower half of the phone’s screen and continues. “My 43,000 visitors I will tell you, my dear, will now have to pay a modest fee of but $29.99 to continue to receive this live feed of your complete and utter debasement.”

Wonder Woman’s forehead and forearms now rest against the wall as she catches her breath and suddenly comprehends what the Frenchman has said.

“...you’re...selling this...me.........my...my...disgrace...?...”

“Of course. Why would you suppose otherwise, cherie? Things are hard all over. The price of vibrators is going higher than your libido. I must pay for all my traps, my chemicals, my cameras. It does not come cheap, cherie, I assure you.”

“You are filth.”

“Keep those palms on the wall, bitch. You know the drill. I am but one command cue away from your effectiveness as a heroine ending forever.”

Fuming, Wonder Woman does as she is told and tries to calm down from the intense sexual high she’d been driven to.

“So the choice is yours, dear visitors.” Pascal turns to face the hallway ceiling camera, gesturing at the nearly naked Amazon with her arms spread out against the wall beside him. “Pay the $29.99 via any major credit card or via PayPal and you can continue to enjoy the domination and ruination of this national treasure.” Pascal caresses the twitching cheek of the teeth-grinding beauty standing with her bare butt showing under the skirt hiked up and tucked into its own waistband.

“For those of you on a limited budget, you can opt for a choice of downloads of sequential photo sets for only $9.99 for two 20-picture sets from a variety of scenes recorded earlier today. A menu will appear shortly of the eight different sequences available. Should you not have the funds for even that I’m afraid then from this point on the website will simply display a still photo of Wonder Woman bound in iron that you enjoyed in the clip I presented earlier. The offer will last for the next six minutes and then it will be withdrawn. I hope you will choose to make the live feed purchase. It will be quite a value, I promise.”

Pascal presses a button on his phone app and the website cuts the live feed and now offers the menu of purchase choices under a banner showing a repeating sequence of a humbled Wonder Woman getting down on both knees with the lasso stretched between her and a tall figure whose face is heavily pixilated

“And we’re no longer live, Diana.”

“...i...i..so...so...hate you...Pascal.”

“I know, cherie. I understand and respect that. Say, how about a blow job? We have got six minutes of free time on our hands.”

A startled Wonder Woman turns her head to see a Pascal give her a lecherous wink and a wolfish smile. And she gulps. She has made a deal with the devil himself. And her very soul seems forfeit.

End of Part 30

[DrDominator9]

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 31


“Good evening, sir,” Steve Trevor says briskly into the handset of his desk phone as he gives Etta Candy an exasperated look. The need to follow up possibly time-consuming leads that won’t pan out is good and proper police work but nerve-wracking none-the-less when lives hang in the balance. “My name is Major Steve Trevor of the IADC. Is this the Wallace Reardon who is the CEO of Reardon Pharmaceuticals?”

“Yes it is. What’s this about, Major?”

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you on a Sunday evening but I am tracking down leads in an investigation into the deaths of three superheroines in the DC area and the name of your company has come up in the...”

“My company?” The startled man interrupts Steve from the other end of the line. “In what way, Major?”

“Your company uses both Elimanol and a specialized nerve agent available only in Europe.”

“Which one? We use several.”

“It’s called...uh, I’m not sure how to pronounce this: Quin..you...clyde......”

“Quinuclidinyl benzilate,” Reardon cuts Trevor off. “Called BZ by Nato. Very tricky stuff.”

“That’s the one, sir. May I ask what you use it for, Mr. Reardon?”

“We have a government contract to use that nerve agent in our research for military applications and unless I have your clearance checked out, Major, that’s all I can say about what we do with it. As for the Elimanol, that’s available at any chemical supply house, as I’m sure you know.”

“Have there been any thefts of BZ from your facilities recently or going back a year or more?”

“Absolutely not, Major Trevor. BZ or Buzz as its called, well, it’s nasty stuff. We have the highest level security safeguards in place.” The executive takes a breath and in less hostile tone, continues on. “It can produce incoherence, wide behavior swings including combativeness, memory loss, shared hallucinations with others infected by Buzz, bladder issues and much more. The stuff actually gets worse the longer its in you; well, unless it’s counteracted by other chemicals. But Elimanol wouldn’t be used with it. That would be used as a cleaning agent in areas where the drug is produced I’d say. Were those heroines subjected to Buzz, Major?”

“I’d rather not say, Mr. Reardon.”

“You just did, Major. I pity those women. It would have been a most unpleasant experience. It wouldn’t have been lethal in and of itself. But it certainly would have slowed their reaction times and frankly, made them incapable of decent judgement at all. They’d be confused, disoriented, even crying irrepressibly: certainly off their game, to say the least. I wish you well in stopping whoever is playing around with that stuff. It’s highly irresponsible.”

“Thank you, Mr. Reardon. If you do detect any discrepancies in your security please alert me as soon as possible, sir, here at IADC.”

“Of course, Major. Good luck.”

“Thank you, sir.” Hanging up, Trevor looks at Etta and shakes his head. “Not him. I get no vibe there at all. What was that next name again?”

“It’s Neural Science Laboratories in Rosslyn,” Etta Candy replies. “Right near the Pentagon.”

“Probably another government contract. Give me the number of their CEO.”

“Not really a CEO. His title is President. Just a six-person company.”

“That sounds more suspect to me,” Steve says as he reaches for the phone to dial the next number. Its loud ring on a Sunday night surprises Steve into jerking his hand away instinctively. He looks at Etta with a bit of a sheepish look and picks up the handset.

“Steve Trevor here. Who is this?”

“Major Trevor, this is Sergeant David Miller downstairs in Global Screening. Something’s come up on the Internet that’s....disturbing, sir.”

“I’m in the middle of something vital right now, Sergeant. It will just have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Yes sir, normally I wouldn’t bother you except for your directive, sir.”

“Be more specific and more concise, Miller,” commands the anxious Trevor who wants to get back to tracking his possible leads on Diana and Wonder Woman. “Which directive?”

“The one about Wonder Woman. You wanted to be notified if there was significant chatter on her on the web. There is, sir. Trending red hot. She’s on a website.”

“On a website? What, now?”

“Right now, sir. It appears to be a live feed. And it’s our opinion down here at Screening, Major, that she is severely compromised.”

“What’s the website address, Miller. I’ll bring it up on my unit here.”

“It’s WW Screwed! That’s two capital W’s then an underline and then the word ‘Screwed’ capitalized with an exclamation point at the end, sir.”

“Man, that doesn’t sound good,” Trevor says, typing the address onto his laptop.

“Oh dear,” exclaims Etta as she watches the site come up showing a scene of Wonder Woman getting down onto her knees. There is no sound to the sequence. The heroine is holding one end of her famous golden lasso while a tall man in a suit jacket and pants wearing a white shirt holds the other end. His face is pixilated while Wonder Woman’s is clear. The confusion and anxiety on her face is clear. Her costume is a tattered mess with her crotch exposed and those ample breasts naked and shaking in the open air. The mighty Amazon goes from one knee down to both, her head looking up at the man as if desperate to hear what he has to say. And then the loop begins again, with the man walking forward, coiling the lasso as he does.

“What’s that, a menu?” Steve is staring at the screen, transfixed by the sight of Wonder Woman’s famous costume in tatters, the huge breasts swaying free, the exposed black bush of this incredible beauty. He has to tear himself away from the visual looping above the pricing information below to focus on the options listed.

“Yes sir,” comes the thin voice over the phone handset that a stunned Steve Trevor now holds at his side. He brings the receiver to his ear and listens as the Sergeant describes the situation and the cutoff about to happen to those who don’t pay in the next 85 seconds according to the timer at the bottom of the screen.

“My wallet! Where’s my wallet?” Steve frantically hangs up the phone on a surprised Sergeant Miller and looks around for his uniform jacket. He remembers he left it in the lounge area while getting something from the vending machines. “Etta, we’ll have to use your charge card,” he says, snapping up her purse sitting on the edge of his desk and opening the catch.

“Steve!” Etta barks, angry at his forwardness and stunned at his desperation. “Give me my purse,” she commands as he rummages through the large leather bag. He quickly hands it over and she pulls out the wallet from a zippered side pocket in a quick, practiced motion. “I’ll read out the number, you type it in. I expect to put in for this on my expense report.”

“For a porn site?! That’ll raise eyebrows,” he whines.

Etta just glares at him. He grimaces back but and nods briskly at her. “Fine, fine! Give me the number, we’ve only got 52 seconds left.”

Etta reads it off and then gives him the three-digit code required on the back. With 26 seconds to spare, Trevor gets a ‘Thank You’ screen on his monitor that says: Please wait. The live feed will begin shortly.

Steve goes back to watching the screen intently as Etta’s face bounces from her wide-eyed Major to the wide-eyed Wonder Woman on the screen. She is dismayed and a bit jealous of Steve’s slack-jawed ogling of the famous beauty’s exposed tits and pussy, and concerned for the heroine’s safety. But as for what she can actually do about either situation, she hasn’t a clue.

* * *

Wonder Woman is leaning face forward against the wall with her arms stretched out in front of her, elbows locked, legs spread apart, and her palms pressed flat against the white surface. Her head is turned toward Pascal and she’s giving him a pained look regarding the suggestion he’d just made about her giving him a blow job. She had expected some sort of filthy request but still it disgusts her that she’s going to have to get down on her knees and put his cock in her mouth for the second time that day.

But then Pascal breaks into a smile and tells her, “Sit down on the floor. I am just messing with your head” and she lets out the breath she’d been holding. The heroine removes her hands from the wall, turns and pulls the hem of her skirt out of its own waistband and proceeds to sit down with her legs drawn up tight against her body, her knees touching the floor and tightly clamped together, ankles crossed, blocking any view up her skirt. It’s as lady-like a position she can manage wearing nothing more than a short skirt, no panties and a bald pussy. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at the Frenchman.

“No, I do not want you to give me a bj, my dear. Well, I do, but sadly there is no time before we start up again. I just want you to be very clear about what I am about to do with you. I want no surprises and no pitiful escape attempts that interrupt my pleasure so I am informing you ahead of time. Any effort to resist or compromise me will have me calling out your name and switching to the scene of you flashing change from Agent Prince to Wonder Woman in my study. Do we understand each other, mon ami?”

“I understand: No escapes. And you are hardly my friend, you pathetic loser, since you are about to fuck me,” Wonder Woman says coldly.

“But of course. Why would I not fuck you, cherie. I have yet to fully sample your pussy to my natural conclusion....”

“And you are going to cum inside me.” More deadpan reaction from the Amazon

Pascal’s left eyebrow lifts at this but continues on with a wink right after that. “How would I be able to resist your many charms, cherie. Yes, I will ejaculate inside your tight cunt as it is a pleasure I have saved until now to make it extra special,”the bearded villain says, stroking her cheek with the tips of his fingers.

“How nice for you,” the Amazon pulls her head back with a jerk. You could take an ice pick to the sarcasm and it wouldn’t chip the block of hate that is Wonder Woman at the moment.

“Yes, well, I shall endeavor to make it nice for you as well, cherie.”

“Don’t bother. Just get it done with. And after that, what’s your plan? Turn me over to some slaver. Earn a million or two from some potentate willing to pony up for my unwilling body?”

“Perhaps. Let us play it be ear, shall we?”

“Ahh, no,” Diana says, the truth dawning on her with a cold uncomfortable light. “No slavery for me. You’re going to kill me like the others. Strangulation. That’s your M.O., isn’t it? I’m to end up dumped at some prominent public place.” Diana is strangely calm about all this. She realizes its been leading up to this all along. You don’t kill superheroines without wearing them down. And he’s very good at wearing down. She feels exhausted and spent. Maybe that’s why she can’t gather up the energy to be enraged. He’s pulled so much out of her today. But when she thinks of the other heroines he’s killed and all the college girls he’s played with, tested and then thrown away, then her rage builds. She trembles some now and Pascal simply takes it for fear. Until she speaks, that is.

“I don’t know how it will happen, Pascal,” she growls through bared teeth, “but I will see you in a cage before all this is done. That’s a promise, maggot!”

The Frenchman is unconcerned. “I do not see how you can continue to make such foolish threats when you have not been able to carry through on a single one of them all day, you moronic twat. And you try my patience, whore!” Pascal stands up again. “Now get up, I am looking forward to shoving my cock up your willing and open snatch, yes?”

Wonder Woman says nothing at this but merely puts out her hand so Pascal can help her rise. He does so and she uncurls without showing anything vital below the bright orange skirt. Still, her naked breasts shimmy slightly as she stands and she proudly holds up her head.

“Assume the position, slut.”

Wonder Woman puts her palms flat to the wall again.

“A little wider on the feet, my dear. I want the world to see how easily you are penetrated.”

The long beautiful legs, calves tight with toes pointed stretch out a bit more. The silky orange skirt drapes closely against the generous curves of Wonder Woman’s butt cheeks, showing off her ass with erotic perfection. Looking down at one of the most beautiful rear ends that God ever handed out, Pascal sucks in a deep breath and leans in, savoring the moment he is about to enjoy.

“Showtime, champ,” he declares and then backs up quickly. “Let us give the people a memorable show, my dear. That is what this is all about after all, n’est ce pas?”

“So the revenge for your sister’s death? That’s all bullcrap now I gather?”

“Thanks to your lasso bringing everything out in the open between us. It must be so.”

“I thought so, you lying toad. You never cared about her. It was always about you and your glory and your fame.” The Amazon tries to goad her captor into a frenzy so he finishes with her faster and possibly makes some sort of mistake.

“Keep talking, Wonder Woman. It will do you no good. I will still be the one fucking you on a world-wide broadcast. Tell me, do they get good broadband on Themyscira? I do so hope your mother saves it to a memory stick as my own stick drives up into your twat.”

Wonder Woman knows that there’s no Internet on Paradise Island. One of the few things she can be thankful for on this horrific day. But she also knows that word of what’s happening to her will get back to her mother eventually. She hopes to be able to explain things beforehand, but....she sighs heavily just as Pascal speaks.

“...And welcome back people,” Pascal says after pushing the app on his phone to pick up the live feed from the ceiling camera, on the phone’s split screen he sees the results of his auction and beams at the results: well over three-quarters of a million dollars. “I have just seen the totals and I am so pleased that over 26,000 of you have taken me up on my $29.99 offer. Plus another 10,000 of you purchased my photo sets. Oh, by the way, they make wonderful gifts for your sweethearts, guys. Sacre bleu! It will make them tres hot! The photo sets can still be purchased at the site but those of you watching right now have exclusive rights to the live content. You snooze you lose, as you Americans like to say. ”

Pascal’s back is to the ceiling camera now which is set on automatic mode. It captures his body pressed close behind the raven-haired Amazon in just her short skirt. His hands have been slowly caressing up and down her athletic, muscular body while he’s been speaking. For now she continues to mutely press against the wall with her outstretched arms and her head bowed.

“In any case,” Pascal continues, as his hands slide all over the unresisting beauty’s skin, fondling her breasts, caressing her neck, squeezing her ass, “it warms my heart and my bank account to have so many of you out there take me into your hearts. And for the compliant and beautiful Champion of All Women here to take me into her shaved and slippery snatch. Shall we get to it then?”

He takes one of his hands out from Wonder Woman’s barely damp pussy that he’s been rubbing briskly to get her excited. He puts his hand to his ear, his face still pointed away from the camera but the audio clearly picking up his voice. “What’s that? Is that the cheering of 26,000 fans I am hearing? Why, I believe it is!”

“Just get on with it, you disgusting maggot,” the furious Amazon growls.

“Maggot?” Pascal replies, sliding both hands under her thin skirt and grasping the insides of her thighs.

“Is that any way to address such a tender...”

Pascal pulls Wonder Woman’s thighs apart with a harsh yank, spreading her legs even further and causing the heroine to shift her palms quickly to keep her balance against the wall.

“...considerate..”

He quickly pulls down his fly and takes out his rock hard penis, shoving it roughly into her barely lubricated vagina.

“HUNFFF!”

The beautiful heroine grunts and bucks under the assault, her neck arching at the brutal act of the man’s stiff muscle being thrust deep within her once most sacred treasure .

“...compassionate...caring...”

He pumps his hips and his dick withdraws and then drives hard into her pussy once again. The silky skirt sways and flutters over the pronounced curves of Wonder Woman’s ass, defining it clearly as her cheeks jerk and wobble heavily under his thrust.

“ ...dedicated....attentive lover,” he says with a throaty rumble.

Hera! He’s up inside me already! I can’t believe it. Thought he’d work up to it more than just some fast caresses and pawing at my pussy! The man’s no better than a rutting dog!

Lifting her head, the Amazon princess utters her own rasping reply, “Love? You don’t know the meaning of the word, you swine.”


“I would not be so sure. I ‘love’ what I’m doing to you, hero. Now arch your back more and thrust out that fat ass of yours like a proper slut so I can get deeper into that tight snatch of yours, Wonder Woman,” he says for all the world to hear.

Grimacing, Wonder Woman reluctantly complies and gets yet another fierce, driving thrust of Pascal’s hot hard penis against her cervix for her troubles.

“GHUUNGHH!”

“Oh my goodness,” Etta Candy says with a rush of hot breath as she watches the computer monitor, “he’s relentless, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Steve says, sitting down suddenly in his rolling chair and sliding his lower half under the desk to hide the bulge in his pants. “I’m...I’m trying to see if there’s anything...uhmm.. ..identifiable in the surroundings to get a clue as to who this man is,” he stutters, staring hard at the monitor.

“Steve,” Candy says, putting her hand on his shoulder and pulling him back several inches with a firm grip, “you’re in the way!”

* * *

Gary Kramplitz sits on the high stool at the checkout table in the Heavenly Desires Adult Emporium. His eyes are glued to the newly-installed 54-inch television hung on the side wall beside the “Shoplifters will definitely be prosecuted” sign. Gary’s pupils are wide as saucers, as are the three pairs of eyes standing near him. Jamal, Jake and Roger Stephens, a businessman who is a regular customer, all now stand with their hands flat on the tops of magazines boxed on tables before them, their mouths agape.

The instant his friend had alerted him to a website supposedly rich with live Wonder Woman sex content, Gary had logged on and checked it out. When he saw scenes of a woman in a costume that was a dead ringer for the heroine who’d visited his store, he’d paid the subscription fee without hesitation. Now he was looking at that body and trying to confirm that it was the same babe. It sure looked like her. She had the same height and build. The tits were facing the wall right now so it was hard to be sure but they certainly appeared to be of equal size. You didn’t come across casaba melons of that quality everyday, even in a porno bookstore! What’s more, the earlier scenes showing her face looked like a perfect match, too. The real Wonder Woman had been captured somehow. And now she was actually having those magnificent hooters squeezed and that world-class snatch severely boned by some uptown executive, a decent-enough looking guy from what he could tell but no superhero type.

“Uuuh, did she just stick her ass out when he told her to,” Jake murmurs dully.

“Too right,” Jamal answers.

“Fuck!” Roger adds.

“I just can’t fucking believe what I’m seeing here,” Gary states flatly, transfixed by the sight of Wonder Woman being fucked by some tall guy right before his very eyes. “What makes this guy so fuckin’ special that he gets a slice of heaven on earth? Why ain’t that me,” he whines. “Maybe it’s not really her? Hey, Jamal, does that look like the exact same booty that sashayed out of here a few days ago?”

“The lord don’t hand out ass like that twice in my lifetime. That be her.”

The three customers stand in place, licking their lips, fingers twitching over the top edges of the boxed magazines, staring at the big-screen tv on the wall.

“Well, Mr. Rockleigh had me put up this tv to help DVD sales with free previews and shit,” Gary declares. “I’m gonna have to go to his apartment and kiss his ass when this is over. But I don’t care.”

“I’ll be there, too,” says Jake.

“You would,” snickers Jamal.

“Shut up, you two, he’s speaking, the guy doing Wonder Woman and my new hero...” Roger declares.


Back in the upper hallway of Pascal’s lovely brick townhouse in Chevy Chase, the tall distinguished owner of the residence, a well-known and respected member of the scientific community, continues to grind himself against Wonder Woman’s tired body. His suit jacket now lies on the floor off to the side. The back of his damp white custom-tailored dress shirt sticks to his sweaty back as he rubs his pelvis in a wide circle against the woman’s backside before he begins humping away once more at his beautiful prize. An overhead camera offers a close up of the man’s hips pumping back and forth. The orange skirt flaps up and down over the shapely curves of the tall beauty’s ass with every motion, blocking the view but clearly implying what is going on underneath.

And then the scene switches to a medium side view from down the hallway. It is an unforgettable moment: the tall man, obviously in command, so roughly forces himself against Wonder Woman’s body from behind that the black-haired heroine’s forearms, thighs and both knees press flat against the wall.

“Guuhnnn!...OHH!...Hunghh!” The audio is excellent. With each thrust comes a grunt from the heroine as her head rocks on her arched neck.

“...you sure...know how....to...romance...a lady...” Putting up a brave front, the Amazon warrior tries for blithe sarcasm.

“There’s no lady, here,” Pascal replies, a bit winded, “just some dumb slut in a skanky skirt having her field plowed...” He gives her a particularly jarring thrust of his cock at that moment “....and loving it.”

“..r...really...?...I...i...unnhh...can’t tell...if you ARE loving it, Frenchy,” Wonder Woman says with as bored a tone as she can muster. “Is..is there...something going...on back...there..?..”

Etta blurts out a barking laugh while the men watching in the book store all shout “The dude is soooo dissed” at the same time, grinning and loving the action.

Pascal has had both hands pressing on Wonder Woman’s hips while he’s been humping away at her. Now he takes his right hand and slides it up under the orange skirt. Hidden beneath the tiny swatch of clingy silk, his sweaty palm glides through the smooth valley between her warm cheeks, pausing on its way through the cleft to squeeze and caress the left buttock before pressing on through the tight space to reach the tiny clutched anus. His fingertip circles it once before Pascal buries his forefinger deep into her rectum, far past the second knuckle.

“HUNNGHH!” Wonder Woman’s eyes widen and her body jerks forward.

“Damn! Which hole was that?” Jake peers at the screen, his face scrunched up.

“I’m guessing her ass since he’s presently occupying her other one,” Roger the businessman answers, “but he could have gone for her clit. A lot of guys go for the clit since it gets the ladies wet and makes the ride smoother, if you get my drift.”

“Yeah, yeah, Romeo. Just shut up so I can hear that Amazon grunt,” Gary says, maxing out the tv’s volume control with his thumb.

“THERE IS A LOT GOING ON BACK HERE NOW, CHERIE. IS THERE NOT?”

“THAT’S TOO LOUD!” Jamal shouts.

“Sorry,” Gary says, adjusting the volume lower.

“...ih...if...you...s..say so...” Wonder Woman counters. But the long circling forefinger jammed as far as possible into her ass is adding a level of excitement to the moment that gives a huskiness to her voice that betrays her to Pascal and everyone watching her defilement.

“Oh, she DID enjoy that,” Etta says arching her own back subconsciously and looking at Steve.

“Yes, I’d say so,” Steve responds, not even looking at Etta. He is stunned by what he’s watching. It’s inconceivable. Wonder Woman didn’t get humiliated like this. He’d never seen her body looking so slack and defenseless. It hurt him to see it, as mesmerizing as it was to watch. “Uhhh...do you think they’re trying to locate this signal downstairs in Screening,” he adds, his eyes riveted to the screen.

“Do you want me to call them?” Candy’s tone is reluctant at best. She doesn’t want to miss a moment.

“No, no I’ll call Miller. And get him on it.” Steve reaches for his phone and misses it by more than six inches until he peels his eyes away from the screen and dials the extension.

“Global screening. Sergeant Miller here.”

“Are you getting a lock on this transmission of that website you told me about?”

“It’s bouncing all over the planet, Major. We haven’t been able to.”

“I’m sure it’s from the DC area.”

“Based on its strength that’s a probable, sir, but we can’t confirm it.”

“Get back to me the moment you do.”

“Jeez, did you see his wrist rotate?” Miller is talking to one of his nearby coworkers downstairs. “It looked like he fingered her a full 360 degree twist on that one,” he exclaims.

“Less watching and more spying sergeant,” Trevor counsels.

“I spy with my little eye....a heroine in trouble,” Miller says cavalierly.

“This is funny to you, sergeant?” Steve is incensed even though he understands the man’s fascination and his disconnect with reality. But that is a real person being subjected to this abuse and he makes his displeasure at the Sergeant’s attitude known

“OH! Sorry sir. No sir, I...uh..I’m on it, sir, Major... sir.” Miller hangs up quickly.

Steve replaces the handset on his end just as he hears Wonder Woman’s brief helpless squeal. Apparently the combined twisting finger buried in her rear end and the pleasurable friction of the tall man’s rapid humping is stimulating the Amazon considerably.

Indeed, having Pascal’s cock filling her pussy over and over and over and his finger circling round and round as well as pulling in and out of her rear has Wonder Woman inundated with pleasure. Her eyes are beginning to glaze over as she is continually filled and refilled by Pascal’s steely shaft.

“...ah...are... you..ughh...ha..having...a guh...good time...?...i...uh...c..can’t...tell...” Wonder Woman is trying to keep up her bravado but her breathy gasps give her away.

“That is complete nonsense, cherie. We both know you are warm and wet and slippery as a water slide at high summer. The only resistance I feel now is your wonderfully tight Amazon snatch gripping my dick as I take you like the whore you are.”

The Frenchman’s rear end is a blur as he pulls the nearly naked figure to him. His left hand holds her left breast in his palm as he continues to cornhole her balloon knot with his finger. He luxuriates in the feel of Wonder Woman arching her back before him and moaning helplessly as she is forcibly impaled by his pistoning dick.

“Ohhhhhh....okay...f...fi...fine.... you’re good. Okay? You’re vuh...v..very good... Now are you going to be a m..man and fuh...f..finish me...?” Wonder Woman wants it to be all over now. And if he has to spill his seed in her, he might as well do it and get it done with. She can’t do anything about it anyway. She doesn’t want her own excitement to crest and she’s having some difficulty now fighting against the incessant pleasure of his hot wide cock creating a world of friction between her thighs. The man does have game despite what she’s tried to imply. Much more of this and she will climax in front of the world, a shame she refuses to allow.

“Oh no, Wonder Woman. You do not get off that easily. And I mean that literally, cherie.”

The Amazon frowns at this news. As has been the case all day, Pascal has a plan that counteracts her own. She whines a bit over the fact that he’s thwarted her once again. It’s just a humming little squeak that she’s not getting her way but Pascal and everyone watching believes she’s upset and sexually frustrated that he won’t let her cum. She’s even implied as much.

“No, mon ami, there is more humiliation to follow. In fact, I think it is almost the time to lose this skirt, eh?” Pulling his finger out of her ass and taking it out from under her skirt, Pascal lifts up the silky orange garment’s back hem and once again he tucks the hem into the waistband. This reveals the view of himself impaled deeply within the famous Champion of All Women, his suit pants pressed up against her naked tush, an inch or two of his shaft that’s not buried in slippery cooze. He squeezes her bare tit slowly and says for the camera, “But perhaps a few more thrusts into you to show the world the fun things that have been going on under this skimpy little garment of yours, yes?”

Pascal starts up his thrusting again and smoothly slides his left hand around to the front of Wonder Woman’s pelvis and grips her inner thigh from there. His other hand fondles and caresses and mauls the Amazon’s huge tit meat in his wide palm. The overhead camera view now clearly shows the tall man’s penis sliding rapidly back and forth into and out of the fluttering labia fronting Wonder Woman’s vagina. For a full 40 seconds the screen is filled with this view, this repeating sequence of dick sliding home past quivering lips and into a passage rimmed by a tight gripping circle of pink. Over and over the sexual conquest replays to the sound of heavy breathing and both male and female grunting.

“..ooohh...Hera...that’s...ohhhhh..!...”

“Tight, wet....and....uughnnn....willing. N...nuh....nice....”

Then, like earlier, that view is replaced by the side view camera going live. With her body flattened against the wall, the famous raven-haired heroine is methodically and brazenly fucked in view of a huge international audience. At last, she offers no sarcastic jibes, no haughty attitude, no defense. The only sounds heard are of her fleshy unheld breast thumping against the wallboard; the repetitive squishy noise of flesh on flesh as Pascal’s cock saws in and out of her wet and open orifice; and the quiet repetitive slaps of his swinging balls knocking against Wonder Woman’s sweaty crotch.

And, of course, there are also the moans and sighs and whimpers of the Champion of All Women as she allows herself to be abused by a man who has so clearly and thoroughly outmaneuvered her and out-fought her all day. She merely rests her forehead against the wall now and lets him enjoy his stunning victory. And she prays to Hera not to give in to this growing sensation of unrestrained pleasure she feels building in her; not to climax. She cannot succumb in helpless irrational ecstacy to a man she hates. She will not.

More than 26,000 pairs of eyes that have paid for this privilege now watch with rapt attention at the incredible phenomenon on their screens. Wonder Woman is being totally and undeniably screwed. Exactly as they had been promised. And at only $29.99, she was dirt cheap.

End of Part 31

[psiber8]

I absolutely love you having Wonder Woman being clear headed and still having to take active involvement in her own very public debasement. The idea that people who should have her back, like Steve Trevor, are almost frozen into inaction as they choose to watch it and even pay to do so, is just a brilliant addition...I love this direction!

[DrDominator9]

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 32

“Uh...Car 54. Where are you?”

Jimmy turns up the volume on the police radio mounted on Sal’s dashboard and picks up the hand microphone.

“Dispatch, we’re heading north on Wisconsin Avenue toward a suspect’s residence on a case.”

“Are you referring to a suspect in the superheroine case, 54?”

“That’s confirmed, Dispatch.” Jimmy answers.

“Since you are the primary on the superheroine case, the desk sergeant wanted you to know a development is in process concerning that case, 54. Chatter on the web has picked up notice of an event involving Wonder Woman on a fee-based website. Apparently being held prisoner and assaulted.”

“Fuck!” Sal shouts, pounding his palm on the steering wheel and getting a raised eyebrow from Jimmy. Fortunately he hadn’t thumbed the hand mike so Dispatch didn’t get the profanity. Dispatch issued fines for excessive profanity. Sal’s total was up to $212.00 already.

“Copy that.. We will now run hot with sirens and lights to location. How bad is it, Dispatch?”

“Sexual assault but there’s a question as to compliance, 54. She doesn’t appear to be bound but she’s feisty.”

Sal hits the siren and lights and floors the accelerator as he motions for Jimmy to key the mike. “What the hell does that mean, Carla,” he shouts over the noise.

“She’s mouthing off but not fighting back, Sal.”

The two detectives look at each other in confusion. “Roger that, Dispatch,” Jimmy answers. “We’re on it. Keep us notified about important developments. We’re 20 out from possible location. This may not be the same place as where the broadcast is being sourced. Do you have confirmation of the signal location.”

“Negative, 54. Sophisticated and bouncing. Attempts in progress to lock it down.”

“Copy that, Disp...”

“Fuck! This guy....he’s too fucking smart,” Sal swears.

“Uh...you’re live, 54. Logging an additional fine. Sorry, Sal. Regulations.”

“Eat me, Carla.”

“Negative, 54. Another fine, there too, Sal.”

Jimmy starts to put the microphone back in its holder to save his partner from himself when Dispatch asks, “Do you want us to send a nearer unit to the location, 54?”

Sal shakes his head vehemently as Jimmy keys the mike. “No, Carla,” the Italian cop declares as he swerves past a slow-moving bakery truck before taking the mike from Jimmy. “I don’t need some green kid getting his pecker shot off by a psychopath who can handle superheroines.”

“Copy that, 54. Possible additional fine attached to pecker.”

“Oh, come on, Carla! Hey, you just said it! You pay up, too, then!”

“Just breaking chops, 54. Will let you know if situation escalates.”

“Right, thanks, Carla....for breaking my ba....chops.”

“What was that, 54?”

“Nothing, Dispatch. Car 54 out.” Sal hands the microphone back to Jimmy and says, “That girl is going to cost me half my pension.”

“It’s your own fault, you foul-mouthed Guinea,” smirks Jimmy.

“Yeah, I know th.....OH SHIT!!” Sal tries to swerve in time but the speeding car hits the huge pothole anyway. The sound of an exploding tire and the screech of a tortured wheel on pavement matches the blare of the siren decibel for decibel. Sal slams on the brakes and is out of the car in an instant, dashing around to look at the front passenger side tire. It’s pancake flat. That’s at least another 10 minutes lost if he’s lucky, Sal thinks to himself, and goes back to pop the trunk release and get out the spare. Jimmy has turned off the siren but left the lights flashing as dusk falls on Washington, DC. and the streetlights flicker on.

“You still don’t want Carla to send a car to Pascal’s?”

“Nothing’s changed. It’s way too volatile, Jimmy. Until we get there, Wonder Woman will just have handle things as best she can.”

* * *

“I did not think that you would be able to handle all this fucking, Wonder Woman,” Pascal declares loudly so his microphones clearly capture his taunt, “and not release a cascade of cum down these smooth, sexy legs.” His left hand feathers down her thigh, caressing it slowly in a way that has the over-stimulated Amazon twitching despite herself. But at least the man has finally stopped humping her. “I truly am impressed, Amazon.”

Still flattened against the wall by Pascal who is invading her personal space as much as one person possibly can, Wonder Woman is, nevertheless, once more in control of her libido. Now that the continual friction has ceased, she can think and resist. She has won this round. True, his hot shaft continues to pulse within her pussy but she can deal with that level of sensation. She can even stand the tickling fingertips playing at her left knee and with her right nipple

“And kudos to you, too, uhm...speedy. I mean, you know, for...uhh..lasting as long as you did...uhm...screwing me,” the Amazon replies haltingly, not at all comfortable with the phrases she’s using but still trying for that false bravado. “I figured...you know...a super science nerd like you would have...uhm.. shot his load in his....tighty-whities...” Wonder Woman gives the lewdest kind of wink she can at the live camera but it simply looks like she’s got something in her eye. “You know...before you could take your penis out of your underpants. You...uhm... must have practiced for hours...with that hand of yours...right uh... spanky?”

Smirking and shaking his head at the heroine’s horribly backfiring effort to shame him, he almost chuckles as he replies, “No, I practiced on your friends, Wonder Woman. You know, those willing sluts not unlike yourself who threw their bodies at me and begged me to....”

“...let them live? But you didn’t did you, you vicious litt....AAIEEYAAHH!”

The agony of having her nipple crushed in his pinching fingertips stops Wonder Woman’s speech in mid-word.

“Ah, ah, ah. Let us keep things from getting too personal, bitch. We do not want our tongues to wag in ways they should not, eh? Because two can play at that game, n’est ce pas?”

The tears that drain out of Wonder Woman’s eyes are only partly from the pain of his fingers clamped on her flat nipples. Her promise to behave as demanded without giving away his name or too much information about him over the Internet broadcast still held. Her very ability to fight on in Man’s World as Wonder Woman hung in the balance. With her identity protected she could still do some good when this was all over. She sullenly nods in mute agreement to his own nodding head and his fingers release her nipples and blood flows slowly back to them.

“The only tongue wagging here will most likely be yours feathering hot and wet around the head of my cock, yes?”

Wonder Woman turns her head to look back at the face pressed close to her neck, but she says only, “Whatever you say, creep.”

“Wow, either she’s the world’s biggest wimp,” says Gary, who’s head is tilted as he watches the screen almost dumbstruck at what he’s seeing, “or he’s got something so big on her that she’s got to go along with him no matter what.”

“Such as...?” Roger asks.

“Who knows. Could be anything, dude. Justice League secrets. The location of Paradise Island. Maybe her secret identity. Whatever he’s got over her, it’s huge. See how fast she backed down?”

“He was squeezing her nip pretty hard,” Jake says.

“Like that’s what’s keeping her in line,” Jamal says, smacking Jake’s cap off his head in disgust. “The bitch probably gets hot from shit like that.”

“Some do,” Roger says, going into another one of his life lessons. “Pain can be a highly erotic jumping off point for some women.”

“I’ve got a jumping off place I’d like you to try, Rog. The Washington monument! Now shut the hell up, would ya? I’m missing their fuckin’ banter.”

Back at IADC headquarters, Wonder Woman’s sudden capitulation to this stranger abusing her in front of the world draws a scowl from Steve Trevor.

“I don’t get this at all. Why doesn’t Wonder Woman kick this guy around the room. He’s not that huge, she’s not tied up, she doesn’t even appear to be drugged. She’s acting like she’s lost all her nerve. This is not the Wonder Woman I know. It’s certainly not the woman I used to respect.”

“Oh, Steve. I think she’s being brave,” Etta counters. “She’s obviously protecting someone by acting this way. Maybe there’s a hostage....OH! Maybe even another superheroine that this man is holding in a cell somewhere so that Wonder Woman can’t save her in time. It could be anything. We both know that she would never allow such cold and cruel and...erotically charged ...uh.. things to be done to her...uhm...without her permission...” Etta wipes a film of sweat off her upper lip. “You know that, Steve.”

“I know that the things I’m seeing aren’t...ahh...the way real men act toward women. They respect them and...and treat them better and don’t...don’t force themselves on naked... beautiful bare-breasted woman...who...who can’t resist them...no matter what...no matter how much..they....uh...shake like that...”

“Right. Uh...real men don’t...don’t do that. Hardly ever,” Etta replies flatly, her eyes turning back to the scene, her tongue wetting her suddenly dry lips.

“Okay, cherie. I am going to back up nice and slow and let you go for a moment.” Pascal sounds like he’s trying to soothe a skittish horse. “I want you to slowly turn around after I do. No wait, better yet...remain there facing the wall. Stay!...staaaay...”

He backs off from her body slowly for three paces and then steps quickly over to his folded jacket on the carpet. After he takes the handheld camera out one of the pockets he steps back toward the Amazon beauty still standing with her hands flat against the wide white surface. Her head is lowered, her shoulder blades tensed and hunched. She looks miserable. He turns on the camera and pushes the app on his cell phone so the feed goes through the minicam. He’s focused on her face and slowly backs up as he talks.

“Okay, Princess, move away from the wall...good...nice and slow...look here sweetheart, into this camera I’m holding...Big smile for the folks. No, that is atrocious. I definitely can NOT work with that expression, Wonder Woman. You look like you are horribly constipated. Give me that proud, eye-twinkling heroine smile you give on the red carpet at the U.N. before addressing the world about the wonders of peace and all that crap. No, no, no. It still looks like you have to take a dump. Work with me here, cherie. Think happy thoughts, you know, puppies romping through daisies, a favorite friend, your Mom, your lovely island home, something that lights you up, n’est ce pas? And keep looking at the camera, cherie.”

Two fat tears roll out of Wonder Woman’s downcast blue eyes. Her lips tremble and then her hands go to her face and she lets out a heavy body-shaking sob. “No! I can’t. I CAN’T DO THIS!”

Pascal stops walking backward and trains the camera on the hands covering the Amazon’s face. “Well, that certainly was not what I was going for...but I can work with it.” He zooms in on her torment. Suddenly, the crying heroine swipes one arm outward to swat the offending cameraman and his tool away but he luckily ducks out of range.

“Get away from me with that thing, you bastard!” shrieks Wonder Woman. “Give me a moment. I nuh..need.. .i...need a..m..moment...”

“And I need you to squat down and spread your labia for me, and for you to cut the drama queen act, Princess. We are two professionals here. I won. You lost. Deal with it or I start sharing secrets with the world, cherie.”

Wonder Woman’s body goes rigid. Her hands stop shaking. Her shoulders come down. She pulls her hands away from her face and she tilts her head to the side, looking at the camera lens like it’s some strange bug. And then she starts to talk.

“Oh, I see now. You want me to completely debase myself for your audience. Really give them a good show. All those fans of mine out there who’ve been so supportive over the years. Everyone who strives for the peace and all that crap I keep talking about. Of course, they never lift a finger to actually do anything genuine. Never anything that takes any effort. Just let Wonder Woman do all the work. She can handle it. She’s a super powered Amazon!” The manic beauty spreads her arms wide and her breasts wobble in view of the lens trained on her.

“Man, she is losing it, big time!” Gary points at the screen in amazement.

“Some kind of psychological disassociation or something, I’d say,” Roger adds.

“Or the bitch is straight up crazy,” Jamal offers.

“I just like looking at those hooters,” Jake says with a sigh.

“Oh my,” Etta frowns, “he pushed her too hard. Look at her eyes!”

“Pupils dilated. She’s manic,” Steve nods somberly.

“Okay, you want to see my crotch, people, fine. Why not?” Wonder Woman spits the words. “Let’s lose the skirt though, right? Don’t want anything impeding the view. Famous Amazon bush. Can’t obscure that! Oh, wait, sorry, no can do. Got shaved. Sorry, guys. Blame the director. Guess you’ll have to live with bald pussy.”

The enraged beauty puts her hands on the waistband of the skirt and starts to push it down. Pascal isn’t saying a thing. Just focusing the camera and thanking heaven for this gift.

Wriggling her hips, Wonder Woman slowly pushes the garment down her thighs, performing a strip tease for the lens. She circles and bends and shows a flash of lovely rump before turning around and letting the skirt drop down her calves to a heap of orange around her ankles. With a capricious kick, she sends the skirt flying right past the camera lens onto Pascal’s shoulder. He brushes it off, and the view shifts to a worthless closeup of the carpet for a second.

“Hey! Up here, buddy,” she says pointedly and when Pascal pans up, Wonder Woman is supporting the undersides of her boobs in both hands . She shakes her upper torso like a coochi-coochi girl. “Here’s what you want. My famous huge hooters bouncing like party balloons, yes?”

“YES!!!” The quartet in the adult bookstore cheers its approval.

“NO!” Etta wails. “This is bad. This is so bad. I can’t watch.”

“Jeezus!!” Steve grabs the phone on the first try and punches out the extension for Global Screening. “Miller! Tell me you’ve got something. Some location on this signal. We’ve got to do something. The poor woman is losing it!”

“I wish I could say we have it, Major, but he’s good. We’re closer but...no. I can’t pin it down. I’ll ring back the second I do.”

“So, with the skirt out of the way, guess you’ll be wanting to zoom in on my beaver now, right?” Wonder Woman declares this with her hands on her hips striking her famous heroic pose stark naked for the world. “So what, a full squat? Will that do it for you, people? You perverts out there who’ve paid to see this, is this pink enough?”

Wonder Woman does her squat and spreads her labia apart with two fingers right at the camera lens. Pascal captures the shocking moment in crystal clear digital detail. The pink undersides of her labia are peeled apart, the feminine knuckles spreading herself open on both sides, the fingers motionless as the Amazon simply holds her position for several seconds before speaking.

"Got your tongues on your tv screens, you worthless scum?"

“Good lord!” Steve’s jaw drops like its hinge broke. His widened eyes are glued to the monitor screen.

Etta Candy takes a step back and blanches. “That poor girl. That’s..that’s tragic.”

“That’s fuckin’ amazing!!!” Gary is tilting his head first to one side than the other, appraising the view of a 54"-wide Amazon snatch.

“Gotta love Hi Def,” Roger says with a smile.

Loathe to interrupt but taking the risk, Pascal says, “Would you please turn around now and show us your butthole, cherie?”

“My ass? You want to shoot a picture of my little old ass, Mr. Demille?” Wonder Woman bats her lashes at the camera and puts her finger to her puckered lips. “Why I’m both shocked and honored. By all means, let’s do this right.”

Twirling around, Wonder Woman grabs her cheeks and spreads them wide, revealing her tightly-puckered anus to the camera in a pose worthy of IMAX.

“Getting all you need, people?” The famed beauty’s face, upside down, pokes out from between her legs. “Now don’t forget to give to Unicef and fight world hunger and keep the planet green and follow through on all that bs that none of you do!!”

“Would you look at what’s she’s doin’!” Jamal calls out. “Like I said, that white chick’s butter done slipped off her noodles.”

“Bonkers with a capital B,” says Jake.

“I’d love to bonk that,” Roger snaps back pointing at the giant pink rectum.

“That is excellent, cherie,” Pascal beams from behind the minicam. “We’ve got the shot, you may release your cheeks.”

“You sure? Seems pretty fast,” the heroine says, her long black hair trailing onto the floor as she continues to speak from between her legs, still spreading her cheeks apart. “There must be people out there who aren’t done masturbating. Guys, girls? What do you say, need another minute of Wonder Ass?”

Suddenly, the lithe beauty stops, spins and drops to her knees, once more holding her boobs from underneath and shaking them hard. “Oh I almost forgot. My nips!” She begins to squeeze and tease them for the camera. “I’m sorry people that there’s no tight shirt for them to poke at suggestively. To show my arousal and all. Guess I better work them up a bit to give you chicken chokers and carpet cleaners a better look, huh?”

Pascal simply stands there and keeps the focus, training the camera on a medium shot of Wonder Woman working both her nipples between her fingers, rolling them until they grow fat and prominent against the large areola.

“How’s that?” The huge smile that the Champion of All Women gives is stretching her face to impossible lengths. Crazy comes through loud and clear.

“Please, Steve, please,” Etta weeps. “Turn it off for heaven’s sake. For her sake.”

“I can’t do that. She needs us,” Steve gestures futilely at the monitor. “If there’s any way to help. Any clue. Or even after the fact, to know what she did so we can counsel her and know what to say, how to say it... I can’t Etta.”

“There, nice big nips! Is everybody happy?” Wonder Woman says this like some MC at a New Year’s eve party.

“WE ARE!” The quartet at Heavenly Desires Emporium all raise their thumbs in unison.

“I know I am,” Pascal says.

“Oh my, no,” Etta moans out. “I’m not, you poor thing. And neither are you.”

Steve, a bit glassy-eyed from watching Wonder Woman work her nipples to perfection, just stares at the screen and mumbles, “...yes...uh...no....I don’t know.”

Etta gives him a glare that would melt tungsten.

“I think that now is the time we move on to the fucking, cherie. You have shown yourself to be quite the accomplished exhibitionist. I appreciate it and I know your fans do. Fantastique! Now please show how well you play the whore. Get off your knees now and go there. Put your back against the wall and I will fuck you, yes?”

“Hmm? What was that?” Wonder Woman shakes her head as if to clear it from some high-pitched tone.

“Time for your fucking I said, champ. Back to the wall now. Be a good girl.”

“...good girl..” Wonder Woman mutters. “You want me to be a good girl?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Pascal says, humoring her. He presses the app to switch the view on the website to the side camera and walks up to the heroine and takes her elbow to guide her. “Right over here, mon ami.”

“...told you...wsntyrfrnd...” she mumbles.

“Pardon moi? I did not hear that.”

Wonder Woman’s knuckles come out of nowhere and smash hard into Pascal’s nose, sending a spray of blood off to the side and the tall Frenchman reeling back and falling on his coccyx.

“I SAID I WASN’T YOUR FUCKING FRIEND, YOU ASSHOLE! DID YOU HEAR THAT?”

Etta Candy screams out hugely, “YES!!! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! I heard that! Oh, that was GREAT!!!”

Steve bolts out of his chair, unable to contain himself, his fist punching the air. “THERE SHE IS! THAT’S MY GIRL!”

His head rolling on his neck like some bobble-head doll, a stunned Pascal starts to speak. “Now you’ll be sor....UUUNGGHH!”

One jolting side kick from the Amazon’s bare foot to the man’s temple knocks it against the carpeted floor with such force that it thumps like a bass drum on speakers across the globe. Pascal goes quiet, his eyes glassy as he lies there on his side in a daze.

“Whoops,” Gary says, shaking his head. “It looks like this transmission might be interrupted due to technical difficulties.”

“Shit, man,” Jamal sulks.

“That’s the way the cranium bounces,” Roger says weakly.

“Ah, hell. It was just getting good,” Jake pouts.

“I should thank you, Rene Pascal,” the venomous heroine says to the barely-conscious man lying before her, “for showing me just now that I had nothing left to protect. You used up all your credit, you pathetic loser. I went so low there that...that you had nothing to hold over me. And now you’re done, mon fucking ami!”

With a brutal stomp, Wonder Woman slams her foot down between the Frenchman’s legs. She doesn’t get quite the clean hit she wanted with him on his side but still he curls up into a wailing ball and pukes all over the carpet. Then he proceeds to moan loudly while the Princess of Theymiscira stands over him in her heroic pose, not caring at all for now about her nakedness, her shaved pussy or her lost costume and weapons. She had come through hell and survived. She was stronger than him. She was a champion and she felt proud.

Striding past the huddled lump of Pascal, she reaches down and picks up his suit jacket and shrugs it on. It hangs loosely over her shoulders but it covers her mid-thigh at least. She does all three buttons which still leaves an ample view of her cleavage but compared to what she’d been showing up to now.... She freezes in place, suddenly remembering everything she’d been showing. It comes flooding back to her in a flash. Sick to her core, she bends over and vomits on the rug only feet from where Pascal had. She stands there doubled over with her hands on her knees and gags and wheezes and sniffles and upchucks once more. The act going for a full minute before Wonder Woman regains herself. Then, angrily she suddenly lifts up her head and walks over to Pascal. She bends down to the moaning man and rips off one of his shoes. She then marches across to the camera that’s live in the corner of the ceiling and looks straight at the lens.

“Show’s over, you miserable losers, time to zip up and continue on with your worthless lives.” The last view is her curled lip as she smashes the camera to smithereens with the shoe, then drops it on the floor with a hard nod of satisfaction.


* * *

Jimmy has just finished wiping his brow with a handkerchief, the new tire mounted on the axle and ready to roll, when he hears the radio crackle inside the car. “I’ll get that,” says Sal, who’s been supervising the entire messy procedure with obvious pointers every other minute.

“This is 54, what’s up, Carla?”
“I’m not sure how far out you are from your suspect’s location, 54, but it seems the possible victim has handled the situation.

“Say again, dispatch?” Sal is shocked.

“No need to rush, Sal. Your heroine friend, Wonder Woman came through again. As usual.

“Never had any doubts,” Sal replies. “That haughty bitch is indestructible,” he says with a smile he can’t hide. “Still 20 out, Dispatch. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Still 20 out, 54. No progress in 15 minutes? Do you request assistance?”

“No...no thanks, Dispatch. We’re good. Just...well, we’re good.”

“Drinks after shift, Sal? I gotta hear this one.”

“Roger, Dispatch. I’ll buy.”

“If the story’s as good as I expect, I’ll buy, 54.”

“It’s a deal, Carla,” Sal answers as Jimmy gets in the passenger side wiping his hands together with a scowl. “We’re rolling again, Dispatch. Out.”

“Did I hear that Wonder Woman took care of the suspect?” Jimmy takes a napkin from the glove compartment, spits on his hands and wipes them.

“You heard right.”

“Hmmm. I guess she was just taking his measure before she laid him out.”

“Guess so,” Sal answers. “They don’t call them Superheroines for nothin’.”

* * *


Gary and his customers are watching the blank blue screen of the website with forlorn expressions on all their faces.

“I guess that’s all for that show,” Roger mutters.

“Dammit,” curses Gary with a thump to the checkout table, right on the crack that Wonder Woman had left not so long ago, “I paid $29.99 for that feed. Feels to me like I only got $18.75's worth of Wonder Woman porn!”

Everyone else just looks over at him with a scoff. That’s so Gary.

But when the site suddenly switches back to the offer of photo sets, the group starts pestering the clerk to bring up the sets they want to review for purchase. They get very boisterous in their eagerness.

* * *

Wonder Woman stands over the moaning six-foot bearded Frenchman with her hands on her hips trying to figure out her next move. She couldn’t be sure that some camera somewhere wasn’t still trained on her so she didn’t want to take the chance and twirl back into her Diana Prince identity: certainly not after all that she’d paid in emotional ransom to protect that secret. She knew she probably had to find the heart of the surveillance system and destroy all the recordings. That would require a search of the house. She still had to retrieve the memory stick as evidence, though she suspected it would not be crucial at this point. Destiny’s skirt was pretty damning evidence.

Considering that, she walks over to where the skirt was tossed by Pascal and shimmies her hips as she steps into it and pulls it up. As long as she kept away from high kicks, she’d be decent enough if Detective Abato arrived while she was searching the place.

“I guess I’d better truss this clown up. I wonder where he hid my lasso. Might be down in his lab.” Wonder Woman shivers at the very idea of having to go back down there and its table with the sweaty leather pad and shackles. She looks down at Pascal with pure scorn and kicks him in the lower back.

Or expects to. With his left arm, he grabs her ankle when he sees her foot come at him. He stops its arc and twists with all his might and Wonder Woman goes down hard with a squeal of pain. They grapple hard. Pascal’s hand is crushing her crotch in his palm, Wonder Woman is yanking his ear as they roll around on the carpet. Pascal’s weight advantage counters the Amazon’s prowess just enough.

And with her ankle smarting, the Frenchman is able to knee her in her tits and distract her long get his hand in the jacket’s side pocket. She tries to knee his balls but his thighs are clamped tight as he rolls away from her. When she scrambles to her knees and dives after him, he turns his body in time to aim his forearm at her face looming toward him. He doesn’t know how she does it but she is able to lower her head enough to take the forearm to the crown of her skull and bull rush him onto his back. She kneels over him, panting. He grabs for the lapels on the jacket she’s wearing and she lifts her leg to once more stomp on the family jewels. Seeing a flash of pink pussy just in time, he drops his arms, clings onto her knee and twists her so she’s forced to follow him around. She lands on her thigh and quickly pulls out of his grip with a hard yank. His arm lashes out, trying to grab her ankle yet again, she thinks. A bad maneuver to try the same move in a fight so she smiles at her next easy move, but then his arm doesn’t quite aim for the ankle as she thought, it goes higher to her calf. And then she feels the sting. She pulls her leg back even as Pascal releases her calf.

“What the hell...” Wonder Woman stands up and faces Pascal as he also clambers quickly to his feet. Then she looks down and sees a spot of blood on her calf where the sting had occurred.

“Once again, I’ve out-thought you, you dumb bitch. What is that, 15 times today? More?”

“It takes more than a little scratch to...to....put...me out...of...of...commish...” Wonder Woman’s legs collapse under her and she falls onto her hands and knees.

“Yes, more than a scratch. It takes curare, cherie. Not too much. Just enough to render you completely immobile.”

“NO! No...i...i...had you. ..i...had...you...” Helpless to stop it, Wonder Woman falls flat on face unable to move. Her thoughts are clear, her eyes stare into the carpet. Her body is not her own.

“Not like I am going to have you, mon fucking ami.”

Leaning down, Pascal grips the shoulders of his suit jacket and turns the limp beauty over onto her back. Her wide hair frames her face. Her blue eyes stare up at his. Hers are wide and frightened. His are piggy and mean. And hers can do nothing at all but watch him snarl he stomps down on the left hand that had flailed out to the side. She can’t see it when the sole of the one shoe he has on stomps down on her forearm. She can only feel the pain. And howl with it.

End of Part 32

[DrDominator9]

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 33

The four men in the adult bookstore have just finished clicking through to their carts of their multiple photo set purchases when the big wall-mounted screen shows a picture to the right of the tall bearded man dragging a woman by the collar of a suit jacket toward a camera.

Gary quickly clicks print receipts and then enlarges the live action scene to full screen. The printer finishes humming out its printouts behind the desk when the man waves to the camera.

“Hello again. I apologize for that interruption in transmission. I am afraid that Wonder Woman proved a touch more feisty and resilient than I expected. But as you see, the situation has been corrected and we can proceed with our show. And since the title of this site is WW Screwed that is precisely what you will now see.”

“That bitch looks dead,” Jamal said. “I ain’t payin’ for no necrophilia shit.”

“Yes, that’s out of my purview as well,” Roger agrees.

“Pervert view, don’t you mean?” Jake snickers.

Quiet down, numbnuts,” Gary barks. “I wanna hear what the guy’s saying.”

“Do not be alarmed, my friends. Our illustrious heroine here is not dead. She is, however, completely immobilized by a solution of curare and some of my own special additives. She therefore will not be able to move her arms or limbs or much of anything except perhaps her eyes. " Pascal gestures to the still figure laid on the floor.

"Her normal respiratory and renal functions are unaffected and she will feel everything done to her. Sadly she will not be able to give voice to her pleasure but she will most certainly experience it. Reflex action will be somewhat affected as well, but there will be jerks and grunts and spasms to indicate the injustice I will visit upon her. I’d wished for more for you viewers. Lusty screams and pumping hips and such. But that is not to be. The solution will wear off in about 15 minutes or so. So you will get more of her normal physical reaction at that time. I hope you will stay with me but I understand if you choose not to. The good news is that there is plenty more fun to be had. The bad news is that your visitation fee is non-refundable. At the price though, I would think you would feel you have received your moneys worth even up to this point. I thank you for your patience and patronage. I will now proceed to fuck this Amazon cunt for all she is worth. Please enjoy the show."

“So she ain’t dead and she can feel shit,” Jamal says, “but what other functions does she got?”

“Breathing and heart are normal, nerves are probably normal,” Roger clarifies. “She’ll feel his dick and his tongue sucking her nipple. She just won’t be able to do jack shit about it.”

“I’m good with that,” Gary shrugs.

“Yeah, me too,” Jake agrees

“Hell, 15 minutes of him humping limp pussy is fine by me. As long as I see that twitching and bucking stuff,” Jamal nods.

“I’m cool,” Roger adds.

“You wish you were,” Jamal shoots back. “You ain’t been since I known you.”

* * *

“Oh my god, Steve, he’s back!”

Etta had been keeping an eye on the computer monitor while Steve was busy talking to the Sergeant in Global Screening. The information was confirmed that the signal was coming from DC and not Brussels. Which was information that was obvious to Trevor but he kept his temper even when Sergeant Miller told him they hadn’t narrowed it down to the neighborhood yet, much less the street.

“Call me if you find your dick!” Steve’s frustration has peaked and now Etta was complaining about something. He turns his chair back from concentrating on the phone call toward the monitor just in time to see Wonder Woman’s head thump to the floor and the man running the website start talking. When he finishes his monologue, Steve grinds his teeth in anger.

“She had him,” he groans in horror, staring at the screen watching the heroine being stripped down. “She had him!”

* * *

Wonder Woman looks up in helpless despair as Pascal reaches down and pulls her left arm out of the sleeve of his jacket. She can feel his clammy hand on her bare wrist. He sloughs the jacket off her and pulls it way from her body, lifting her upper torso roughly by the back of her neck and then letting it fall back on the carpet with a dull thump. She is naked again but for the orange skirt, but Pascal strips that off her hips, down her thighs and lifts up both legs in short order, stripping the famous heroine of everything including her dignity.

She feels the warmth of his finger as it swipes around her labia, smoothing and caressing them, first the outer and then the inner lips. His touch is fast and urgent and stimulating in an obsessive way. The rubbing is steady, methodical and repetitive. The fingers circle and circle and twitter and poke every inch of the rubbery flap of flesh protecting her vagina. Wonder Woman grunts at the work he is performing on her. It is already more pleasurable than she’d like. She knows it will get worse. And just thinking it seems to make it happen. His finger pokes deep into the slowly moistening channel, an intrusive warm snake-like feeling. It searches her inner walls, swiping around them, first left and then right then around and around. His repetitive method is aggravating as it is stimulating. There’s a machine-like quality to his fingering. It’s not playful. It’s not inventive. It’s almost clinical but the fact of its constancy is making Wonder Woman feel jittery and slightly excited.

Then Pascal’s fingertips grasp her clit and begin their work. He employs the same practices with an even better result here. The rapidly massaged slippery little button brings a long moan from her lips and her pussy offers a small but obvious rush of lubrication.

“Ahh, very good. Your excitement is showing, cherie. I can now feel the slippery flow of your estrogenic fluids bathing your entryway, making you ready for penetration.”

“That guy really needs to work on his pillow talk,” Jamal says.

“Oh, no, not again,” Etta says, putting her hands on Steve’s shoulder and watching with a mix of fascination and disgust as the man pulls down his fly and mounts the prostrate figure on the carpet beneath him.

Lying beneath his heavy body, Wonder Woman feels the large man guide his tool to the opening between her thighs. And just as easily as that, he slides himself into her. She cannot resist him in any way. His sudden girth fills her channel and she feels his heated muscle, firm and forceful begin to stroke in and out of her even as he enfolds his hands around her and takes her at his pleasure.

“So, the famous Wonder Woman: so easily entered, so warmly embracing my prick,” Pascal declares boldly to the walls and his audience of thousands. “You, the Champion of All Women, taken on a whim, ruined in a second, tarnished for a lifetime.”

“Pompous bastard,” Steve grunts.

“That’s upping his verbal game,” Jamal notes.

“That’s up in her game,” Jake says.

“You know, this is not satisfactory. I believe we should get into a more comfortable position, my dear,” Pascal states. He pulls out of the wet vagina without a thought, his hard dick waving in the air. Repositioning himself, Pascal sits cross legged and pulls Wonder Woman into his lap, his dick reentering her with ease as he pulls her loose legs around his waist, her ankles dangling on the floor behind his back.

“Much better. Now let us begin in earnest, shall we? Pascal’s hips begin to rock and his penis glides into Wonder Woman’s warmth and out. In and out. Slowly and steadily the pace of his dick, like his fingers is constant, unvarying, uncaring but not unmoving. She feels his arms holding her, encompassing her, possessing her. Her limp neck forces her head to rest on his shoulder as he rocks and rocks and rocks. His hard muscle fills her again and again. It’s heat moves through her and she begins to moan as the sensations build within her. She tries to think of horrible things, disgusting things that prevent pleasure but the heat and the endless thrusting of him within her pussy and the sudden caressing hand on her naked breast pulls her thoughts back to her body as easily as a funnel fills a container with liquid. She is with him and of him and there is no help for it. His palm holds her breast, his fingers pull and twist and tickle her nipple raising moans and taking her will. She shudders in his arms despite all her hate. A tiny trickle of pleasure wets her thighs and he chuckles in her ear.

“So strong and now so weak. So dominant and now so passive. How the tables have turned. Do you not love the irony, woman?”

Her eyes well with sorrow even as the joy begins to fill her beyond her capacity. His hips do not stop rocking, his tongue caresses her neck, his hands surround and fondle and squeeze and mark her body with pleasure points far too rich to ignore. And still the thrusting muscle owns her space, the friction mounting beyond belief. She wishes it were not so but she is a helpless quaking lamb in the abattoir of his passion. And her own.

He caresses her hair. He licks deep in her ear. She is a violin string and she vibrates with the sound of his plucking. The sweet, sweet harmony of his attentions is beyond her now. The licking, the thrusting, the heaving. She feels him bow his body over her, his breath hot on her nipple, his physique impressing itself upon her. Her neck lolls now as he cradles it and lowers her away from him, arching her back, controlling her figure completely. Her eyes close and that brings the dizzying sensation to a rushing surprising fountain inside her, Horrified she opens them again but it is too late, the roaring in her ears and her blood sweeps her away beyond all control.

She shudders like a fish out of water in his grasp, bucking and flopping and wishing for what she cannot have: a surcease of this ecstasy. Wishes be damned though, she is lost. Loud groans and whimpers rush from her throat. Rough urgent needs bark from her throat, nonsense sounds that speak too clearly of the helpless joy she feels. Her body bonds tightly with all things in the universe. Besotted with pleasure unbound, she releases her joyous rapture in a wet torrent in Pascal’s lap, a taken, wounded and destroyed bird, broken in his grasp, made into nothing at his touch. Tears on her cheeks flow like streams down her cleavage until they meet the river from her thighs.

And when out of nowhere his steely muscle finds its own limits, it freezes then pulses hard, sending rockets off within her, a spraying fountain of lava shared between them. It burns her with shame. This poisoned pleasure that thrills her so. The jetting stream of him unleashed in her and unleashing her joy even more. She adds herself to the outpouring, her ecstasy joining his now as she once more shakes and shudders in his impossible hold, his irresistible conquering hold. She sags in his arms, lost, blind and devastated. A washed out skin with nothing in it. No soul, no hope, no future. And she hears him laugh at her. Hears him relish her plight. Hears him promise more.

“I think I will fuck your tits next. I will cum on them and the spray your face with it, Wonder Woman. Would you like that?”

She does not know. She does not care. She is gone.

End of Part 33

[Void]

Good stuff. There's real 'oomph' to all of this, I think because there's a degree of depth to Pascal and WW. They're not 2d characters conforming to a simple cliché, and the way their very real personalities clash, with WW being gradually worn down by it all, gives all of this real punch. There's a few cracking lines in there as well: I particularly liked some of the prose Pascal was whipping out - that's good villain banter right there. The writing continues to stand up really well and it all looks really polished. This is going to be a pretty epic tale when it's all told!

Still have no idea how to expect this to end. I've actually become quite invested in WW's plight here, and it's equal parts horrifying (in a good way) and exciting as she is dragged down. I'm kind of cheering for her to take the day, though at this point I guess it will merely be a victory of a different kind for Pascal even if he is defeated. Look forward to seeing how it continues to play out.

[DrDominator9]

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 34

The phone rings on Steve Trevor’s desk as he watches Wonder Woman’s limp body sag in the outstretched arms of the man who so thoroughly violated her for the past 10 minutes. They are still coupled together at the hips even as her conqueror lays her upper torso onto the plush carpet.

“Trevor here,” growls Steve as he grips the phone, still watching the monitor.

“WE HAVE IT, MAJOR!” Sergeant Miller is shouting on the other end, ecstatic with his team’s accomplishment. “We have zeroed in on the location of the transmission of the WW Screwed website, sir.”

Snatching up a pen, Steve barks out, “Don’t keep it a secret, Sergeant! Give me the address.”

“Sorry, sir. It’s 11312 Rockville Pike, North Bethesda, Maryland.”

“You’re absolutely sure about this, Sergeant?”

“We cleaned up the back filters and separated out the tangential flux between the...”

“Is that a yes, Miller?” Steve interrupts.

“That’s a yes, Major. The broadcast is definitely originating from that location.”

“Okay, I’ll give this to the police. I believe two detectives are headed there now. Good work, Miller. Thank your team for me.”

“Yessir. Wonder Woman’s not looking very good, sir. I hope those cops get there soon.”

Eyeing the screen with a frown, Steve watches the man sitting cross-legged on the carpet, hunched over Wonder Woman’s limp form, pulling his dick out of the famous heroine’s pussy. His hands move from her lower back to her ass as the Amazon’s upper body slides like a limp fillet out of his arms. Slowly slithering in smooth circles over the wide buttocks, his palms then reach into the long dark crack and separate her cheeks. With her back flat against the carpet, the beauty’s shapely legs sprawl over his forearms in flaccid helplessness as a thin white stream of his spunk flows out from between Wonder Woman’s thighs. He holds her there for a moment, letting her drain as her closed eyelids flutter and a sigh eases out of her quivering mouth.

“Me too, Miller. Call me if there’s anything else.”

When the overhead camera shows that only slow drips are left to drain from the heroine’s naked twat, the sitting man is shown taking Wonder Woman’s ankles in his palms. He lets the beauty’s legs drop to the carpet on either side of his hips with a simultaneous thump. He then replaces his member back into his pants and zips up.

“Goodness! So much...jizz...” Etta murmurs with wonder, unaware she’s even speaking out loud. “..so...potent...”

“What?” Steve says, captivated by the view of this devastated champion lying slack on the floor, her body offering up the slowly-dripping fluids of the man who is now leaning back on his haunches with a satisfied sigh.

“...uh...what..?” Etta simply replies as she squeezes Steve’s shoulder and sighs herself.

* * *

Well, that was absolutely fantastique, cherie!” Pascal rests in place, cross-legged still with his arms stretched out behind him, palms down against the thick carpet, still relaxing several minutes after his victory fuck. “Truly a moment of pure splendor that I shall savor in my memory and in frequent video replays for years to come.”

Wonder Woman doesn’t even attempt to open her eyes. With the curare incapacitating her, she certainly can’t speak, or move, or do anything but breathe heavily after her orgasm. All she can do for the moment is feel the now infrequent drips of his seed seeping from her loins. She disgustedly shivers in an autonomic reaction that Pascal takes as pleasure.

“Ahh, I see you still quiver in your delight at my impaling of your easily available cunt, mon ami. But it is I who should give thanks to you, for you are a magnificent specimen of your gender, Wonder Woman. Such a joy to violate and debase.”

The mighty Themysciran Princess can only blink away a welling watery surge in reaction to his taunt.

“But,” Pascal goes on, “I think perhaps our viewers would appreciate just the most subtle of reminders as to who it is I am humiliating here, non? I mean, they have seen you fight me and fail in the videos and photo sets on this website but all they see at this moment is some dark-haired limp-limbed fuck toy with a bald pussy leaking cum on my expensive carpet. Right now, you simply look like any common whore who has been used and left dripping, a sex-stupefied skank lying in some alley with a damp five-dollar bill clinging to her semen-coated belly. We simply cannot have that, precious. Even if that is your appropriate station in life, you probably should not look the part. After all, you have a public watching you who deserves better for their money.”

“No we don’t! We really don’t!” Roger is calling out to the television screen at Heavenly Delights.

“She looks great from here,” Jake adds.

“Bitch looks like she’s found her calling to me,” Jamal says.

“Anyway,” Pascal continues, “that is why I have brought two objects up to this level with me to reestablish your famous heritage and glory in their minds for them.”

Unfolding himself, Pascal stands up and strides into the room at the opposite end of the hall from his study. He bends down and picks up a blue object and a gold one and holds them up in one hand to the camera positioned directly over Wonder Woman’s prone figure. He takes out his cell phone from his pants pocket and keys in the app once more, shifting the camera to focus on a medium shot of him.

“Here are the sad remnants of your fame, hero. A replica pair of your famous blue panties with their white stars and your actual girdle of power, your wondrous belt from which once stemmed your super strength.”

Wonder Woman’s eyes open at this statement and unable to move her neck, she can just see from her vantage point the objects he waves at the camera. Her slack mouth opens slightly and her lower lip shakes at the view.

“Sadly, my dear, your actual pair of costume panties are nothing better than a meaningless scrap of fabric in a corner downstairs that I would not even trust as a dust rag. Well, I say ‘sadly’ but since I was the one who ruined them so completely before ripping them off your body, you know I do not actually mean that, cherie.”

Pascal gives the camera a wink and Etta growls low in her throat when he does.

“And as for your belt, well, that is so scarred and bent and ruined that I sincerely doubt it would provide you enough energy to help you sit up and fart at this point, Wonder Woman.”

With the curare completely immobilizing her, the Amazon warrior can only watch Pascal as he walks over to her and kneels down beside her. He lifts her left calf and slides the phony panties onto one leg and then repeats the action with her right calf. He swiftly tugs the panties up her long legs and onto her limp, heavy thighs. There is a brief struggle with her dead weight and the distraction of her left tit smacking into his forehead before Pascal finally manages to fit the tight blue panties over her generous hips and her wide ass. A final snap back of the tortured elastic waistband against her skin concludes the coverage of Wonder Woman’s crotch.

“There goes heaven, fellas,” says Gary with a pout, but then brightens up again, “but the guy’s right, it’s a nice reminder who this arrogant bitch is that he’s fucking with.”

“I’m going to miss that Amazon’s gash,” Jake sulks.

“Oh, it’ll probably come back for a return engagement,” Roger says, “if this guy’s as nasty as I think he is. He hasn’t steered us wrong yet.”

With the panties being at least one size too small, the slight paunch of even Wonder Woman’s sculpted abs sag a bit over the clinging waistband. Pascal arranges the crotch of the panties with a quick swipe of two fingers, moving them inside the panties and pulling out the wrinkles so the fabric rests smoothly and neatly against her hairless cunt. Pulling his fingers out of the panties, the Frenchman then dimples them with his forefinger, creating an obvious camel toe within the white star emblazoned there. Then, getting into the moment, Pascal rubs the crease up and down rapidly with firm pressure, deepening the camel toe so the ridges are now quite pronounced. He does this repeatedly, drawing his firm forefinger up and down the heavenly cleft, slowly and then faster. Finally, he meticulously traces his fingers all around the miniature hills and valleys of her clearly defined snatch in the laziest most sensuous lingering caress he can manage. Wonder Woman’s growing moistness turns the white star gray, a spreading dampness that gives the silky fabric a dewy sheen. Finally the satisfied Frenchman gently pats the white star at her crotch three times.

“Comfy?” He asks with a grin. Wonder Woman can’t help but let out a soft groan.

Etta crosses her legs and squeezes her thighs together tightly, struggling not to groan herself. She licks her suddenly dry lips and blinks at the monitor. Steve surreptitiously adjusts himself below the desk.

“Wow! That got her wet fast!” Roger calls out, pointing at the screen and the closeup of Wonder Woman’s crotch from the overhead camera. “Did you see that cunt juice up! Man!” “One Amazon pussy, hot and ready,” announces Gary. “Serves four. Do NOT allow to cool!”

“Man, you can see everything but it’s even sexier ‘cuz she’s wearing panties,” Jake declares.

“Don’t know how she can live this shit down,” Jamal adds. “The bitch is toast! Buttered, greasy toast!”

Knowing he won’t be getting answers from the helplessly mute heroine, the smiling Frenchman reaches over and takes up her famous belt. He puts the belt down on the carpet and then roughly turns the limp form over onto on its belly, sending her arm flailing and her wrist thumping against the carpet. Concentrating, Pascal fixes the small catch in the belt behind her back. That done, he rolls her body roll over again onto her back. The hideously misshapen belt is a tangle of inflexible gold threads, loose strands widely separated that curve and flex in all directions. Some places it molds tightly to her abdomen while at others it’s raised away from it in awkward kinks and bent angles.

“That belt certainly does not look to be as comfortable as it once was, cherie, but we must make sacrifices for the show, yes? Well, you must, anyway!” Pascal chuckles at his own joke while the famous heroine lies spread out before him, her precious snatch covered and her ruined belt wrapped around her. Still her naked tits are boldly displayed and the mighty Wonder Woman is incapable of moving at all. The belt gives her virtually nothing. All she gets is an involuntary spasm from it that lifts her hips and ass in the air before thumping back down to the carpet.

“Perhaps I was wrong. It seems like your belt can help you cherie. Well, to fart anyway!”

Wonder Woman’s eyes now glare at Pascal but that’s all she can do. As he looks back at her with nothing but amusement, the glare dissolves into a resigned acceptance and her eyes shift up to the ceiling.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Pascal blurts out and gets to his feet. He walks a few short strides over to his folded jacket and pulls something out of one of the side pockets. He turns and walks back toward the prostrated beauty whose eyes now track him with interest. They go wide with alarm as she sees what dangles from his outstretched arm.

“Your own Wonder Woman ball gag. I decorated it just for you, cherie!”

A red leather strap connected with stainless steel rings and buckles and a tri-colored ball hang in the air before the anguished Amazon. She had been forced to wear a gag like this on more than a few occasions and absolutely hated it. It was so demeaning in so many ways: the muzzling of her vocal freedom, the inevitable jaw-straining discomfort, the debasement of women that it represented and almost worst of all the endless inescapable drooling. Wonder Woman’s eyes go even wider. She realizes the curare might impair her ability to swallow. Lying on her back she could drown in her own saliva!

Dull grunts and moans issue from the flaccid heroine lying in panicked horror on the carpet as Pascal draws closer to her and kneels down beside her. All it takes is two fingers at a key pressure point on her jaw and her mouth easily gapes open He pushes the gaily painted rubber ball in her mouth and proceeds to buckle it behind her head. Pulling on the strap to ensure it’s properly secured, Pascal smiles at the female lying beside him. The distinctive coloring of the gag is a nice touch. It’s red leather straps give her a marvelously whorish look and the ball with its bright red sides, wide blue center stripe and a white star facing out provide the ultimate sarcastic trademark signifying the famous heroine’s complete and total disgrace.

He’s rendered the alleged Champion of All Women completely defenseless with curare that impairs virtually all movement. He’s stripped her naked except for an overly-tight pair of cheap Wonder Woman costume panties he’s already made her dampen with helpless pleasure. He’s even replaced her completely ruined power belt for an extra helping of shame. The ball gag he’s fitted her with completes her humiliation perfectly. And now Pascal has the distinct pleasure at hand of fucking her famously huge hooters. Pascal feels like the King of the World.

* * *

Sal and Jimmy are 10 minutes out from Pascal’s home address when Sal’s cell phone rings. He looks down and sees it’s Major Trevor of IADC contacting him.

“Hello, Major Trevor. I am on the way to Rene Pascal’s residence now. We’re 10 minutes out.”

“Abato, listen, we’re on borrowed time here. IADC has located the source of the transmission. It’s coming from North Bethesda. Let me give you the address.”

“Is it a Rockville Pike address, Major?” Sal motions to Jimmy who’s flipping through his notebook.”

“YES!” Trevor is thrilled they are so near. “It’s 11312 Rockville Pike, North Bethesda.”

“Doesn’t he mean 11313,” Jimmy says. “That’s where we just searched this afternoon. Did the bastard circle around and go back there somehow?”

“We searched that address earlier today, Major, but the number was 11313. It came up empty. Can you guys pinpoint a broadcast signal that accurately?”

“I’ll get back to you in a moment to confirm, Detective.”

“This guy doesn’t know dick,” scoffs Sal. “He’ll call me back with an answer from someone who knows what they’re talking about. Makes you wonder about the status of this country’s security if guys like him are at the helm.” Sal drives down Wisconsin for one more block before shaking his head and pulling over.

“Why are you stopping?”

“Bethesda’s north of us at this point. We’re heading to his home address. I don’t want to lose ten minutes going in the wrong direction. We’ll wait for his callback. It’s no rush anyway. Wonder Woman’s got the guy on ice according to Dispatch.”

“True,” Jimmy nods. “No rush.”

* * *

Kneeling beside her and looking down at the helplessly laid out Wonder Woman wearing her fake panties, her ruined belt and her mouth spread wide and drooling around the humiliating ball gag, Pascal is delighted at how well his plan is proceeding. Everything is back on schedule. Although he’s not sure when the cops will show up in their pathetic attempt to rescue this Amazon slut, he’s confident the surprise he has in store for them will remove them from the equation and let him move to the final stage of his grand experiment: proving it was possible to reduce the powerful Champion of All Women to a defenseless female victim capable of being strangled to death and sodomized. The revenge factor involving his sister might have been taken off the table but the science of the experiment was still quite worthy of his genius.

The confident Frenchman stands up, quickly undoes his belt, drops his pants and his boxers and steps out of them. He casually bends down to pick them up, neatly fold them and then lay them off to the side. He then straddles her body and sits down on Wonder Woman’s belly, forcing a grunt from the prone beauty. The warmth of his naked ass presses down on the heroine’s bare and sweaty abs, making her breathing just a bit more difficult. The head of his cock rests against the bottom of the Amazon’s breasts and the beaming scientist’s eyes gleam as he addresses his helpless captive pinned beneath him.

“Well, here we are, Wonder Woman. Just you and me and your famously huge tits. They look so inviting, cherie: so naked, so pliant...” Pascal takes hold of both breasts in his spread palms, gripping them from the rounded undersides. He gives them a firm squeeze and a shake and the large tits sway and wobble side to side in his grasp. The helpless Amazon keeps her eyes shut but thin trickling tears slide out and run down her temples.

“You see, mon ami, you make my cock hard just by letting me rest its tip against the warmth of these delightful fun bags. But let me do more...” He lets go of one breast and takes his dick in his hand and slowly begins to rub its mushroom-shaped head along the inner edges of Wonder Woman’s tightly gripped left tit. First he caresses the left with his penis, drawing it up and down several times against the smooth inside curve of the breast. And then he takes hold of the right tit and teases the flesh on the inside curve of that one. The smoothly constant rubbing warmth of skin on skin stiffens Pascal’s cock even more in his palm and sends a sparkle of pleasure through Wonder Woman’s breasts as well.

Concentrating on her tits so intently, Pascal is only alerted to Wonder Woman’s distress by a sudden choked gurgling from the back of her throat. He looks up to see her eyes bulging, her mouth spastically flexing around the ball stuffed in her mouth, and drool running down the sides of her face.

“Dear me, are you gagging on all your saliva, cherie? Here, let me fix that for you, Wonder Woman.” He gives her face a sudden hard open hand bitch slap that knocks her head to the left with a vicious jolt. The air rings with the sound of smacking flesh even as the heroine’s cheek blooms with a flush of red. “Better?”

Stunned by the shocking blow, the mighty Amazon is, nevertheless, blearily thankful for it when the drool begins to pool under her left cheek and she can breathe again.

Back at IADC headquarters, Etta flinches at the sound of the slap from the tiny speaker on the desk. Her right hand fists in anger while her left squeezes relentlessly on Steve’s shoulder.

“Ow! Etta, ease up. Wonder Woman has endured much worse than a slap to the face.”

“It’s just...I’ve never seen her take something like that. She’s just so helpless, Steve.”

He shakes his head as he watches the drool puddle beneath Wonder Woman’s cheek as her glazed eyes blink stupidly. “You’re not wrong.”

Getting back to his fun, Pascal murmurs softly to his captive as he palms her hefty breasts. “I am sorry, mon ami, but I simply cannot resist these any longer.” The bright-eyed villain leans down close to the Amazon’s face. “I must squeeze these bountiful breasts together around my penis. I have dreamt about it for far too long to wait another moment!”

“You and me both, pal!” Gary cheers loudly, squeezing imaginary tits in the air as he faces the huge wall-mounted tv screen. “Grip them tits and fuck ‘em!”

“We’re with you, buddy!” Roger mimics the same squeezing action with his upraised hands. Even Jake and Jamal follow suit with accompanying “whooo hooos!” and “gotta weigh those melons!”

On the tv, the overhead camera shows the view of the smiling man drooling a large amount of saliva he’s worked up. It falls between the massive breasts he’s now holding slightly apart. As soon as the spit touches the flat skin of her chest, the Frenchman immediately pushes Wonder Woman’s fleshy globes together with enough pressure to make her nipples touch. The tits flatten together forming a tight tunnel into which the man sitting on the heroine’s stomach slides his stiffly erect penis. He lets out a very satisfied “aaah” and begins to thrust his cock back and forth between Wonder Woman’s compressed jugs. The lubrication of Pascal’s spit makes the thrusting easier and as he begins to work his thrusting hips more and more, the mix of his sweat and that of Wonder Woman’s makes her cleavage a slippery chute of pleasure for the bucking Frenchman. He feels the comforting weight of her meaty mammaries pressing against his cock as he rides Wonder Woman’s belly like some rodeo cowboy and fucks her tits with abandon.

* * *

After waiting five minutes and not the one minute Trevor promised, a now impatient Sal Abato snaps up his ringing cell phone off the car’s dashboard.

“Okay, Lieutenant Abato, here’s the deal,” Steve says without preamble. “They pinpointed this signal to precisely 11312 Rockville Pike. Satellite imagery shows a block-long five story warehouse with an antenna array on the roof. The action is going on inside that building.”

“Damn! We were across the street from there just this afternoon and we missed it,” Abato pounds the steering wheel. “Major Trevor, is that 11312 address owned by this Pascal guy? Or maybe...”

“Pascal Research LLC,” Jimmy says, reading from his notes. Abato repeats the name to Steve.

“That’s a negative, Lieutenant. But there’s no question that’s where the signal for this website broadcast originates.”

“Okay then, Major, we’re proceeding there now. Have you sent a team there to help wrap things up?”

“Wrap up, Abato? What the hell are you talking about? Wonder Woman is flat on her back getting her breasts massaged by this Pascal guy’s dick! Sorry Etta!”

“What are you talking about, Trevor? Dispatch said Wonder Woman had the situation well in hand 15 minutes ago.”

“That’s old news, Abato. They fought and he stuck her with curare. At least that’s what Pascal said on his website. She went limp as a carp! The website is showing her being...” Steve lowers his voice to a whisper and cups his mouth over the phone’s handset, “...titfucked!” Trevor turns his head and gives Etta a sheepish look that brings a flush to her cheeks, a quick glance at the monitor and a despairing nod of agreement.

“Get there ASAP, Abato,” Trevor urges vehemently. “The victim is helpless and I have no teams in the area on a Sunday night. All I have here is an aide and myself. We can move on that location but it will take some time. We’re down here near Langley.”

“No, Trevor, I need you to be my eyes and ears. Plus, I’ll contact my own dispatch via our car radio and my partner will track with them as well. We should have kept in touch with them more often but....Fuck it, that’s water under the bridge. We’re still about 15 minutes out from 11312. We’re going in hot with sirens.”

“Can I make a suggestion, Lieutenant? Think about killing those sirens four blocks out. I don’t want him spooked into doing anything past sexual abuse. That’s cold I know but she can live through that. She can’t live through the things he’s done to those other heroines. Let’s keep him thinking he’s got time, Abato. What do you say?”

“I think I’d rather scare him into making a break for it so she gets a chance to live, Major” answers Sal, miffed that the fed is trying to call the shots.

“No! No! He’s already killed two others. You know that! And fuck, man, you’re not seeing what I am here, Abato. She’s completely helpless and unable to move a muscle. He could cut her throat and walk away in seconds. Please, consider it a personal favor... please, Lieutenant Abato...Sal. This has to be handled right or we’re going to lose her. Please!”

Etta’s eyes well up as she hears Trevor’s voice crack.

“Acknowledged, Major,” Abato replies quietly, hearing the strain and not wanting to be responsible for the heroine’s death. “We go silent within four blocks. I’ll contact you again when we’re close or you give me a heads up if things go south...well, more south than the FUBAR situation we’ve got now!”

“Will do, Lieutenant. Get there. Just get there, Sal.”

* * *

“These tits of yours, Wonder Woman...just marvelous,” Pascal says with a huffing breath as his jerking hips drive his dick in and out of the tight crevice he’s created by crushing the massive mounds together. The thick slurping noise of his rigid prick pressing through her sweaty, fleshy cleavage fills the air. The symphony of her disgrace includes the occasional low grunt or moan as well as higher-pitched despairing whimpers. The man is relentless, his driving thrusts seemingly unending, with all the emotion of a fucking machine.

The Amazon’s face lies against the pale green carpet made soggy by her steadily leaking drool. Her gaping mouth shows the slightly compressed white star painted on the rubber ball crammed in there and held in place by tightly-buckled shiny red leather. Wonder Woman’s eyes stare into the middle distance, focusing on nothing while her body is rocked back and forth by the steady abuse of her breasts. The unending friction from Pascal’s penis against her quaking breasts spreads a rosy glow of pleasure through them that the heroine has worked hard to ignore for the last two minutes – but it is now building steadily within her. And the moment that the man riding her begins to tease her sensitive nipples by rolling them between his fingers, that pressure of excitement throttles significantly higher in her brain. The mighty heroine of the Amazons shivers with unavoidable delight.

For his part, Pascal savors the sensation of Wonder Woman’s breasts gripping him as he crowds them together and pulls himself in and out of the tight confines of her fleshy orbs. His cock is hardened steel, a piston rod moving through its motion and driving him to higher and higher plateaus of pleasure. He slows his pace to regain control, drawing a whimper from the woman beneath him. Her frustration delights him to no end. Playing on this, he bends low, grips her doughy breasts in his dimpling fingertips and begins to lick and nibble and gnaw at her fattened brown nipples. Helplessly, her body tenses and the Frenchman actually lifts the supine beauty by her tits off the floor slightly, even as he continues to destroy her resolve to fight the crescendo of pleasure with his consistent mouth work.

“Uuuuuuummmphhhhhh!!”

“I know, cherie, I know. I feel it too. We are magic together, non?”

Wonder Woman’s eyes lose focus as she lies there inundated with pleasure, drooling around her ball gag. Her breasts rise and fall with heavy breaths as they are man-handled and teased and mauled and kissed and assaulted in every possible way. The sharp nip of Pascal’s teeth on her right nipple has the heroine freezing in place and quaking in a helpless spasm of a tiny concentrated climax.

“Uughnnnn!”

Etta gives a soft moan of her own while watching the nearly naked Wonder Woman stiffen and groan. The IADC agent feels her own panties growing damp under her uniform’s dark blue skirt. She shifts her thighs a bit, rubbing them together.

Steve grits his teeth and wonders what the hell he should be doing at this point. There’s no call from Detective Abato for an update and the situation, while degrading to Wonder Woman, really hasn’t changed appreciably so Steve feels no need to call the policeman to give him an update. He rubs his hand through his hair, shifts uncomfortably in his seat and continues to watch the monitor on his desk.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, fellas,” Gary declares, “but didn’t Wonder Woman just cum right there?”

“A petite mal, as it were,” replies Roger. “On the Richter scale, maybe a 4.2. but I anticipate much larger jolts in her future.”

“He’s jolting those titties pretty good,” Jake points out. “They’re shaking like a big bowl of Jello.”

“And they’re about to get a heap of whipped cream all over ‘em pretty soon. This guy’s gotta bust his nut sometime, right?”

“The man’s got stamina,” Roger answers. “You’ve got to give him that.”

At that moment, Pascal is feeling a sexual crescendo of his own coming closer. Reaching down he takes Wonder Woman’s limp hands off the floor and brings them up to her breasts. Covering her hands with his own, he places her palms against her own naked jugs and forces the defenseless champion to mash her own breasts together. He starts up his thrusting again, rocking his hips and driving his stiff cock in and out of the tightly tunneled tits. Each time the head of his penis pokes out of the top of the slippery fleshy cleft, it grazes against the warm tips of Wonder Woman’s fingers. The tender touches of those famous hands on his dick every time it passes through this Amazon’s Tunnel of Love generates a heady rush of urgent need in the Frenchman now. He does this six or seven times before it gets to be too much. The friction through the slick fleshy cleavage, the heat of those fingers caressing the pulsing head of his cock. He can’t take it.

Pascal releases Wonder Woman’s hands and they flop back onto the carpet even as her tits fall away from each other, bouncing and wobbling on her chest in crazed gyrations that have Gary tilting his head in wonder at the sight. With a frenzied fumbling, Pascal reaches both hands behind Wonder Woman’s head and undoes the buckle on the ball gag. He pulls the loose straps forward and roughly yanks the ball out of the shocked heroine’s mouth with a noticeable click of her jaw. Lifting himself up, the anxious Frenchman abruptly moves himself forward so that he’s now sitting on Wonder Woman’s tits. His sweaty ass covers her warm heaving breasts as he casts aside the ball gag and takes a firm grip on the back of the famous female’s hair with his left hand. He pulls her head sharply forward as his right hand guides his cock into the slack-jawed beauty’s gaping mouth.

“WWRRAAUULLGGKK!”

Driven by a fast-rising sensation of undeniable pleasure, Pascal jerks his cock in and out of the warm open mouth of the Amazon pinned beneath him. Gripping her hair in painful bunches and pulling her face forward with both hands now, he thrusts his pole deep into that gagging mouth, forcing the mushroom head into the back of her throat. The gripping heat of her throat fills his head with sprinkling stars and he jerks himself back and forth into the confining cavern of her gaping maw again and again.

“...awlgk ...awlgk ...awlgk ...awlgk ...awlgk....”

Wonder Woman’s soft lips press helplessly into his ball sack, her eyes bulging, irises darting frantically as he deep throats her over and over until there’s nothing for him but surging irrepressible pleasure. He freezes in place and erupts in her mouth, his prick spewing a hot jet of cum down her throat and into her belly before she even realizes it. She gags and swallows a second heavy dose of cum right on the heels of the first and then, before she knows what’s happening, the cock is gone, pulled from her throat to allow a sweet flow of cool air into her lungs. Just as she draws precious oxygen into her straining lungs, her face is suddenly wet, her cheeks doused by a hot shower of Pascal’s still erupting geyser. Her eyelids sag with a heavy coating of his filthy cum. Her lips and chin receive a nasty icing of his dripping, pungent essence. Wonder Woman can do nothing as her face becomes a dumping ground for Pascal’s thick sticky spurts of lust. Another spray hits her forehead; another scatters across her nose and a final stinging squirt shoots up her nostril.

“Whaaulllggkk!.....ohhhhhh.....ehhhnnnhhh...” Gagging and moaning, Wonder Woman can only lie on her back and suffer the humiliation of having been the target of this despicable pervert’s splattered ejaculate all over her face. Gravity helps out and her head rolls to the left so her left cheek slaps into the soggy drool-soaked carpet. She feels the cum that remains in her cheeks and the top of her throat slowly drain out of the side of her mouth. The camera zooms in for closeup view as a thin trail of white cum dribbles out of Wonder Woman’s mouth to further soak the badly-stained carpet.

“Just look at that haughty bitch,” cheers Gary. “The famous Champion of All Women just had this guy blow his load in her mouth and now it’s dribbling out of there like some little baby spitting up tit milk after a good burping. You’re not the poster girl for feminism now, are you, cunt?”

“Never thought I’d see that! Wonder Woman with a cum-drenched face that’s no better than some drunken video porn slut. Gotta love it,” Roger grins. “I don’t think she’ll be clipping this photo to her applications to any new super hero teams.”

“Couldn’t help but notice she didn’t have no trouble swallowing most of that guy’s first two jizz shots, before he iced her face like a cupcake,” Jamal points out.

“She’s so hosed!” Jake gestures at the screen. “No way she can show her face in public after taking it in the face like that. This site’s got to be up to a million hits and trending.”

“Good heavens, that is just so....humiliating...for that poor women,” Etta chokes out, her eyes glued to the monitor. She pulls her hand off of Steve’s shoulder and strides to the door of his office. “Watch that if you must. I can’t...i...just can’t continue to watch such a....travesty. I’ll be in my office. I need....I need a break....” She opens the door and walks out heading for her cubicle. When she gets there, no one’s around. She flops down in her cushioned arm chair and tilts back in it, taking deep breaths. Looking around to be sure everyone has gone now that it’s 8:15 on a Sunday evening, Etta Candy loosens the waistband on her skirt, slides her hand down its front and pushes her fingers into her panties and the cleft of wet pussy within them. She strokes herself vigorously, bending her head to her chest and acting as if she’s thinking hard about something. Her other hand is tapping a pencil on her desk, keeping rhythm with her stroking fingers in the slushy crevice within her pale pink panties.

* * *

Sal and Jimmy slowly pull up at the Rockville Pike address they’d been at just earlier that same day. As agreed, Sal had cut the siren four blocks out and now the two detectives are casing the tall structure opposite the one they searched before.

“It makes sense that it’s across the street,” Sal says, “but it’s odd that there’s no link to Pascal Research with the owner.”

“Could be he’s a tenant,” Jimmy suggests. “We haven’t checked all those.”

“Right. Well, we’re going to have to go in and check out the whole building,” Sal declares. “Trevor said his people guaranteed the broadcast is being sent from this site. Looks damn quiet though. Still, I hope that Wonder Woman’s in there. She’s in some deep shit from what Trevor said.”

“Want the shotgun from the trunk?” Jimmy raises an eyebrow.

Sal doesn’t even take a second pondering this. “Fuck yeah. You carry it though. I got way higher scores on our last pistol ratings.

“I knew there was a bright side to that score,” Jimmy smiles as he gets out of the car.

* * *

Wonder Woman is lying on her back just waiting for her cum-covered face to get crusty in the drying air of Pascal’s carpeted hallway. Pascal has moved away through the room at the end of the hall to someplace else for now, but she can’t do anything about it. Her belt is giving her nothing. She has as much control of her body as a dead flounder. Being a helpless prisoner of one of the most despicable men she’s ever battled has brought her to the depths of a despair she’s never felt before. He’d outwitted her every single time in every way that mattered. She wasn’t going to get out of this. She was going to die. She can’t believe it but the truth is unavoid...

Her foot suddenly twitches and she can feel her toes moving back and forth. She’s moving her toes! She’s getting her muscular control back. She tries her fingers, tapping her thumb and pinky on the carpet. There was hope! She had some genuine hope of being able to surprise him perhaps if he stayed away long enough. She might actually be able to jump him when he bent to lift her up. She tries bending her knee slightly, riddled with fear that he’d come back at any second and see her being able to move. She has no choice though and yes, her knee is bending at her own will. She tries not to show any glimpse of excitement and makes her face as emotionless as a mannequin. It’s hard not to smile as she feels her muscles coming to life all over her body.

And then she hears Pascal walking through the room at the end of the hall. He’s happily humming as he comes into the hallway and heads right toward her, holding up more red leather objects.

“Look what I have for you, Wonder Woman,” Pascal says, waving them in the air at the camera stationed over the study door. “It’s your very own dog collar and leash. We’re going to go back to my basement lab now, even if I have to drag you all the way there.”

Wonder Woman’s body tenses as the beaming Frenchman draws closer to him, a mere six feet away. It was now or never....

End of Part 34

[DrDominator9]

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 35

Wonder Woman tries to sense Pascal’s location through the vibrations of the floor. Her eyes are closed as she pretends to be exhausted. It doesn’t take much acting, since she does feel completely played out. She wishes her power belt would give her a boost but it just grips her waist like a sentimental relic from some tacky estate sale. Still, she can’t let that affect her. She literally has to spring into action here in mere seconds.

When Pascal is only a foot away, Wonder Woman strikes. Her eyes snap open and though surprised to see that Pascal is dressed once more, she kicks her leg up, aiming the heel of her rapidly closing foot directly at the man’s beaming face. He’s waving the red leather dog collar and leash in the air but drops it when he sees her kicking up at him. Diana is hoping to break his nose in one hard strike. The heel drives upward with venomous intent and is inches away from the Frenchman’s nose when his hand, now freed from the dropped dog collar, grabs her ankle and pulls it to the left so it misses him altogether.

With her leg strike checked and the appendage held wide to the left, the famous Amazon’s crotch is left exposed with impending disastrous results. Pascal’s other hand comes out of the pocket of the sports jacket he is wearing, his knuckles gleaming with the shocking glint of brass. The fist crashes down on the hourglass shape of blue fabric and white star covering her pussy with a thundering thump.

“AAAARRRGGGHH!”

The mighty Amazon’s upper torso comes rocketing up off the carpet in horrific agony only to be met by Pascal’s sharp, unforgiving elbow to her forehead. Stunned into oblivion by this blow, Wonder Woman collapses backward in a defenseless sprawl, her limp figure lies dazed and helpless on the hallway carpet, arms spread, eyes crossed. The raven-haired heroine is unable to form a single thought. A red spot on her forehead grows into a bump and steadily expands into a knot the size of a walnut, deep red and angry. To ensure that the Amazon is completely subdued, Pascal gives her a hard shot to her temple with his brass-knuckled fist that knocks the heroine’s head sideways and has her eyelids fluttering on the very edge of black unconsciousness. The Frenchman removes the punishing brass implement from his hand and slips it back into his jacket pocket, enjoying the comforting weight as it settles down in there.

Rene Pascal is thrilled with how well everything is going. He realizes that his face has probably been viewed by thousands on the website by now. He had been concerned earlier on about his identity being known but he’s so confident of his escape plan and how things are progressing that he’s no longer worried about that. He’d even cancelled the uneven attempt at pixelation after he’d gotten dressed. If things proceed cleanly, he’ll get away and no one will be able to touch him despite knowing exactly who he is. He’s filled with delight about this, knowing he’ll be known throughout history as the man who destroyed Wonder Woman. He’s actually humming as he deftly binds the heroine’s hands.

In less than 30 seconds, he has the disoriented, feeble beauty manhandled onto her side with her hands brought together behind her back and tightly bound, palms touching, with a plastic zip tie. Pascal is in complete control of the dazed, silent heroine. He’d been expecting the curare to wear off by now and was completely prepared for the mighty Amazon’s awkward attack. It had been obvious and slow, simplicity itself to counter really. The brass knuckles weren’t even necessary with this pitiful cunt but it felt good to the Frenchman to drive his fist deep into her soft pussy and to hear the shriek of pain from the famous Champion of All Women as her eyes bulged in agony and her body jerked up in reflex to meet his elbow strike.

Lying senseless on the pale green carpet, with her crotch blazing with pain and her hands bound behind her back, Wonder Woman’s body instinctively arches and flexes on its back in slow, lazy motions as her brain attempts to reboot from the stunning blow to her head. Far too dazed however, the heroine can do nothing as she feels her head lifted momentarily and then let back down on the carpet as something is fixed around her throat.

“There we go, princess. Sorry there are no diamond studs on this dog collar. I know you are used to such lavish refinements but the budget committee would not allow it.” Pascal chuckles at his own joke. “So, this red patent leather collar and leash will just have to do. Besides, it matches the ball gag so perfectly. Here, let me get that back into place for you, cherie.”

Taking the gag from his pocket, Pascal forces the ball into Wonder Woman’s mouth and straps it on behind her head. The rubber ball is still soggy with her drool from earlier and tastes foul in her mouth. The heroine lets out a soft choking gargle as the bondage toy is fixed in place.

“...whaaullggkk...”

“What do you say we show the world how you look with a nice close-up, mon ami? Give them a view of the very face of defeat, Amazon-style?”

...whuh...whuz he mean..?...

Grabbing a hunk of hair with his left hand, Pascal lifts Wonder Woman’s upper body off the rug and quickly slides his right arm around it, grabbing her meaty tit for a handhold. He then tries to heave her to her feet so she can stand on her own but the heroine’s wobbly knees and addled brain refuse to cooperate. Forsaking chivalry completely, the six-foot villain drops his right arm from around her body to the waistband of the knock-off panties. With her upper torso suspended about two feet off the ground and her lavender toenails winking in the carpet behind her, Wonder Woman’s limp figure is slowly dragged like a 100-pound bag of mulch by her hair and starred briefs along the rug toward Pascal’s study.

The blue fabric covering Wonder Woman’s butt has completely disappeared from view, having instantly slid off her cheeks and buried itself deep into the Amazon’s tight ass-crack after Pascal had given her that first hard yank along the upstairs hallway. The wide cushioned ass of the downward-facing heroine now wobbles back and forth in a freestyle sashay of flopping flesh as she is dragged in a series of short jerks toward the study. Her bound arms, zip-tied at the wrists, bump up and down behind her back against her now worthless power belt. Every subsequent jerk toward the room 15 paces away brings a shimmy and sway of Wonder Woman’s meaty breasts beneath her like some cow lurching past a gopher hole on its evening return home to the barn. Even her groaning sounds a bit like the mooing of a beast with overfilled milk bags. Behind her, the befuddled beauty’s bare feet leave dark furrowed trails in the nap of the rug, defining her progress from where she fell to her current position.

After he pulls the body of the famed heroine over to a spot two feet away from the door to his study, Pascal lets go of the hunk of hair he’s been yanking her along with and as Wonder Woman’s head starts to drop, he grabs the red leather leash, pulling a gagging choke from his prey. Using the strap he efficiently wraps around his fist, Pascal hefts the limp figure into the air, choking her even more. His other hand curls even more tightly around the waistband of her panties and, proudly, he presents her limp figure before the camera mounted over the door.

The woozy, defenseless Amazon hisses loudly around the ball gag as the crotch of her panties cleaves even more deeply into her cleft; her own weight causing her searing pain. Her body turns slightly in his grip, choked by the taut leash from which she hangs. If not for his grip on her panties, she’d be desperately gasping for air. As it is, the groggy Amazon warrior hangs there in place before the world; a weary and beaten figure. The grinning Frenchman holds her body up so that the swaying beauty’s bare toes dangle mere inches over the rug and he shakes the dangling heroine at the camera lens.

“Here is your famous Wonder Woman, world! What do you think of this mighty champion? Are you shocked at how shameful the once powerful and intimidating Amazon now looks?” He shakes her flaccid body once more holding it up like a trophy and then throws his head back and lets out a huge belly laugh. “Well, since you have subscribed to a website named WW Screwed! I can only imagine you will be absolutely thrilled with a nice closeup of the supposed Champion of All Women.” Pascal steps a foot closer to the camera to provide a spectacular view of his vanquished prize.

Gary watches the 54-inch wall-mounted television with wide eyes and a slack jaw as Wonder Woman’s face, tilted on the tight red leather leash, fills the screen. The swollen red knot on her forehead gives her the look of a teenaged Klingon, he thinks, but the alien resemblance ends there. The rest of her face is pure porn star at the end of a gang bang, with globs of spewed semen all over her cheeks, spread across her chin and dripping from her nose. There’s even a particularly thick clump of jism coating her eyelid, giving her a pronounced lazy eye. With the dog collar around her neck, the Amazon has been obviously tamed and tamed hard. What’s more, the way her limp head dangles in place from the leash and with the obvious confusion in those dull blue eyes, Gary can tell that Wonder Woman’s bell has not only been rung, but the echoes are still reverberating through the now hollow halls of her once richly-filled mind.

The famous heroine’s humiliation is immortalized on camera by the heavy strings of combined drool and cum draining out of her slack mouth. With her pale red lips circling the fat rubber ball with it’s gooey white star, it is crystal clear that the famous Amazon warrior is only a pale imitation of what she once was. The helplessly dog-collared Wonder Woman hangs there wavering stupidly in this bearded man’s grip. Her world-renowned face is blasted by cum, her eyes are glazed and blank, her bound hands hang limp and useless behind her back. The Champion of All Women is presented as a complete mockery of her once heroic stature.

“That bitch is fucked up,” the clerk says in amazement.

Roger starts slowly clapping at the screen and Jake and Jamal slowly take up the applause as well, raising their hands at the screen and adding their “Alright!” and “Yeah!” to the acclaim. The quartet’s clapping increases in speed and tempo until all four men are pounding their hands together, cheering and backslapping each other for all they are worth. The ecstatic group offers their howling, stomping tribute to the remarkable man who had single handedly brought down and destroyed the haughty heroine. The very female who stormed into the shop not so long ago and tried to shame them into what she thought was proper behavior was now the one who was shamed beyond all measure.

“Hey, Wonder Woman,” Gary shouts above the fray, “want to come back and tell me how to behave now, you counter-cracking cow? Guess not, you fat, cum-faced cunt. Put in your place now, aren’t ‘cha? Ain’t payback a bitch, bitch!”

“OH NO!” Steve is shouting at the monitor so loudly that Etta hears him from her cubicle. Quickly making herself presentable due to her disheveled appearance after her masturbation, the pudgy aide rushes to see what has Steve so distressed.

“My lord...she...she’s a...a....wreck....” he’s saying, eyes fixed to the screen on his desk. “..totally...completely...abused....I’ve...never seen...”

Looking from her mumbling superior officer and circling behind him to look at the screen, Etta suddenly gasps and takes a step back. “Heavens...that’s...horrible...” It’s like a traffic accident that magnetizes her eyes to the horror. Wonder Woman’s face drips with semen and she’s being held up by a red leather leash. Her expression shows equal parts exhaustion and confusion. Etta’s never seen a woman so horridly treated and this was the icon of all women. “My god, Steve, we have to do something! What should we do?”

“We’re doing all we can do, Etta. We’ve tracked the signal and the police should be there right now. They could be breaking in any second. All we can do is pray for Wonder Woman and watch closely for anything that could be useful.”

“I don’t see any windows. If there were windows we might catch a view of where she’s located.” Etta is babbling with panic at the sight of the cum on Wonder Woman’s dully fluttering eyelid slowly sliding off and dribbling down her cheek.

“We know where she is. We’ve pinpointed that. There’s just nothing we can do to help her right now. I just wish somebody like Superman would swoop in and save her. I thought he cared about her!”

Steve hears this bastard’s voice off camera. “Are you shocked at how shameful the once powerful and intimidating Amazon now looks,” he taunts the stupefied woman. The words are like daggers to the Major’s chest. Wonder Woman, the woman who captured his heart, the epitome of beauty and grace and courage has been reduced to a mindless, drooling, cum-faced porn star before his eyes. He can’t look away either but something inside him withers and curls and goes very, very still. And when the heartless bastard throws his head back and laughs and crows that everyone who is viewing the site is probably thrilled with the view, Steve fights a rising gorge of sick disgust that threatens to erupt from his gut.

“Well, so much for your closeup, Princess. Your fat ass is getting too heavy to hold up any longer. So now, let me take you to a mirror so you can see for yourself just how special you look to your public.”

“...llehh mmuhh..gguuhh” Wonder Woman says into the ball gag, finally able to piece together a fragment of coherence in her mind if not through her mouth.

“I do not know what you said there, pumpkin, but you will have to tell me later. For now, I simply want you to get the full effect of this. To understand clearly what you now look like to the whole planet, vous comprendre?”

“...nnghh...ohnd...annaa ...eee...nnghh....”

“Yes, whatever you said, cherie, I am sure it is truth personified. And I can tell that you are alarmed, but you must look at this, angel. I insist. Oh, and dear visitors,” Pascal addresses the camera directly with a wink, “we will be with you in a moment, as soon as I have a free hand to switch to the proper camera.”

As the face of Wonder Woman passes beneath the camera and out of view, the picture remains focused on the empty upper carpeted hallway. The dark wet spot of drool and puddled cum off in the distance is a testament to how an Amazon warrior has been shamed in battle.

Still toting the heroine by the leash and the stretched out waistband of her painfully cleaving panties, Pascal walks a now visibly struggling Wonder Woman into the study and shuts the door with his hip. Fastened to the back of the door is a full-length mirror. The Frenchman restrains the writhing woman with some obvious effort. She’s getting her second wind apparently. He can take care of that though. He sets the twisting and jerking heroine on her feet just 18 inches before the mirror and releases her panties. He immediately takes his phone from his pants pocket and keys the video app so the study camera can now feed the view to the website. With the collared heroine writhing and twisting in place, held in check by Pascal’s tight fisted grip on her leash and his renewed grip on her panties, it is a shock when he suddenly lets go of both restraining grips simultaneously.

Wonder Woman is completely unprepared for this and stumbles forward onto both knees with her face mere inches from her reflection. With her hands bound behind her back, she’s lucky to have enough balance not to crash face first into the mirror. But the sight before her is something from a nightmare.

“Aaghh!”

The raven-haired Amazon’s head snaps back. She now sees what the world has been shown. Her famous face is thickly glazed with a man’s semen like vanilla frosting. It coats her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, half her eyelid and her chin. Her mouth! Her mouth is filled with the rubber ball and from its sides and bottom drains silvery streams of her drool. Three different tributaries of spit flow down from her lips, from the corners of her mouth and from her chin onto her naked chest. She sees herself on her knees, confused, horrified and soiled beyond belief. She’s completely naked except for a horrible pair of uncomfortably-tight imitation panties and her twisted, ruined power belt circling her waist. She can’t abide the deep disgrace of these two mocking reminders of what she had been. Her once glorious stature, her noble heritage, her courage have all been laid to ruin today. A man’s stinking seed cakes her face and flows through her cleavage for Hera’s sake! The horrific stain of this ultimate dishonor burns on her skin and rends holes in her heart with a searing pain that makes it difficult to breathe.

Suddenly, Pascal steps up to her and reaches behind her head to unbuckle the gag. The Amazon warrior flinches badly on her knees, cowed and nervous. But when the soggy hateful ball is removed, a rush of more drool and leftover cum from her belly and sinuses splashes out of Wonder Woman’s gaping mouth. Her eyes take in this view in the mirror, this disgorgement of his seed. Of his victory over her. Of her utter debasement.

Her mouth opens even wider but no sound comes out. Her keening soul is wrenched hard and finally only a small shrill squeak of horror escapes the Amazon’s throat. Her wide blue eyes look back at her with untold shock and pain. This is Edward Munch’s painting “The Scream” personified. And Wonder Woman shudders and collapses sideways, now giving voice to her horror and her shame, uncaring of the multitudes who watch with shocked disbelief at the complete unraveling of a hero. She screams and sobs and wails to the heavens, to her lost gods, until her voice is raw with her agony and heartbreak. None hear her. No one answers. No one comes to save her from this demon.

She does not even hear Pascal caution her to be quiet or he will strike her, hurt her. She is lost in the hysteria of her lost soul, her absolute destruction. And her actions only perpetuate her own defeat. In the eyes of the world, Wonder Woman will never be a wonder again.

Behind her, Pascal smiles in the mirror. He takes out the brass knuckles once more as the woman’s screaming continues and he begins his final beating of her.

“Oh lord, he’s tearing into her again. That poor creature,” Etta groans.

Two kidney punches, a hard left to her ribs, a right to her left breast, a vicious backhand to her right tit and thundering gut punch leaves the wheezing, bloodied champion in a fetal position on the floor of the study, dazed and whimpering. The screaming has stopped. It is time for more humiliating sex to begin. Pascal cuts the zip strip from her wrists and pulls the devastated Amazon to her feet and she is able to stand, though unsteadily. One hand settles on a nearby octagonal table to help steady her swaying figure.

“Face the mirror for me, cherie.”

Wonder Woman complies.

“Closer. Press against it with your breasts.”

Wonder Woman complies.

“Now lift up your hands to either side and place your palms against the mirror, head high.”

Wonder Woman does this.

“Excellent. Now slowly reach down with both hands and push down your panties to mid-thigh then replace the palms head-high just where they were.”

Wonder Woman performs this exactly as commanded.

With her ass crack in plain view and her butt cheeks still jiggling from being released from the tight confines of the small panties, the mighty heroine’s rear is ready and waiting. Pascal reaches forward and takes hold of them in either hand giving them both a slow firm squeeze.

“You will now let me fuck you in the ass without complaint, without resistance, without an ounce of denial.”

Wonder Woman acquiesces completely.

The famous Amazon warrior accepts the hard penetration of his cock into her without a hint of dispute, without so much as a grunt.

The foursome at the Heavenly Delights bookstore goes wild.


End of Part 35

[Abductorenmadrid]

The duality of Pascal is deliciously wicked, so polite and refined on the one hand yet so merciless on the other !

AEM

[DrDominator9]

Thanks one and all for the feedback. Enjoy this next installment. Getting close to the end. Kind of..


Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 36

Besides taking the shotgun out of the car’s trunk, Jimmy also reaches in for a set of long-handled bolt cutters which he hands to Sal. Together they walk quickly across the street, keeping an eye on the windows of the block-long warehouse for any movement, any watching sets of eyes. All seems very quiet as the evening turns from dusk to darker night. The streetlights are already on.

At the side door there is no chain, simply a locked door with a steel plate. Sal frowns and motions to Jimmy.

“Well, it would have been too easy if we just had to snap a bolt. Go that way and search for any way to get in. I’ll head around this way and we’ll meet on the other side.”

Jimmy nods as Sal walks off with the bolt cutters, feeling along the bottom edges of the first floor windows for gaps. The building is large enough that it takes eight minutes before the two detectives meet up on the opposite side of the warehouse.

“I got nothing,” Sal says.

“I got luckier. There’s a broken basement window. Follow me.”

Five minutes later, the slightly-mussed pair of cops have their guns drawn and are searching the warren of storage rooms in the huge basement. It’s just their bad luck that it’s not a huge open area with columns but a maze of steel storage bins. Fortunately they are chain linked fencing material and not solid steel so they can clear the huge basement in about eight minutes. But with five floors to go, this could take some time. And Sal is not liking the vibe he’s getting from the building at all. Everything seems too quiet. But if the website’s broadcast signal is coming from this location, they have to keep going.

“Basement’s clear,” he nods at his partner. I’m going to call Trevor.” Sal takes out his phone and frowns.“Great,” he scowls, “no fucking cell phone signal down here. Let’s check the first floor, maybe we’ll get luckier.”

“Maybe. The stairs are back there,” Jimmy shrugs his shoulders in the general direction.

Neither man is happy.

* * *

Wonder Woman’s body flattens hard against the mirror mounted to the study door as Pascal’s clothed body presses against her nearly naked form. Only her damaged belt remains along with a pair of cheap Wonder Woman costume panties clinging to her smooth round thighs. With slow, deliberate motions, his hard cock presses deep into her ass and then gradually withdraws, the patient Frenchman savoring every moment of his domination of the unresisting beauty.

“I am so pleased you are finally seeing the futility of trying to resist me, cherie. Is not this so much better, accepting your inevitable defeat?”

“...guess so...” the numb heroine mumbles, uncaring even as Pascal’s arms circle her waist and hug her. His hips thrust up hard as he hilts his prick deeply into her once again...and then twice more.

“...uugghhnn...hnnff....uuhh....”

“Certainly it feels better to me. To be able to ravish your body, to possess it so completely, to smell your scent and take you so completely while the world watches. This is heaven, no?”

“...for you...i...suppose...” Her body jerks upward yet again as the cock rams home, filling her ass with heat. Wonder Woman’s head turns to the side. She won’t look in the mirror. She can’t.

“Man, that dude’s filling Wonder Woman’s ass sumthin’ fierce,” Jamal says with envy, his wide eyes feasting at the incessant impalement of the six-foot beauty’s virtually naked body as her hips are slowly and continuously rocked against the mirror.

“Just look at those mashed titties bumping and wobbling,” Jake ogles. “I feel like a milkshake. Anyone else feel like they could use a milkshake?”

“A martini maybe. Shaken not stirred,” quips Roger.

“Good lord,” Steve blurts, “this is...he’s...he’s really doing this...” Steve pushes his chair closer under the desk. He is hard as a rock.

“I should say so...” Etta replies, feeling dewey down there. Again.

“I hope you remember this gift for the rest of your life, my dear,” Pascal says, gripping a smooth section of Wonder Woman’s mangled belt and rubbing it against her waist.

Dazed and confused, her tortured mind centering on the smooth motion of the hands against her belt, the Amazon is taken back in time. She finds herself reliving the moment when her mother wrapped the magic girdle around her waist during the presentation ceremony on Theymiscira. Diana had just won all the tournaments and was named the champion who would venture into Man’s World and fight for justice and the equality of women. It was one of the proudest moments of her life.

Diana’s face glows with the warmth of the tropical sun as her mother, Hippolyta, steps back and smiles at her daughter. The smile doesn’t quite reach the eyes, Diana notices. Then she realizes her mother never really wanted this for her. She wanted to protect her child and keep her close. And Diana, having craftily disguised herself and bested every one of her Amazon sisters, had won the right to become the emissary that she’d yearned to be. But the willful daughter was still the pride of her mother’s heart. And the two women share a touching moment, meeting each others gaze, both sets of eyes filled with all the promise, hope and faith that Diana would prove a beacon of hope for the Amazons and for females everywhere...

And now females everywhere were being shown the unbearable painful cost that comes with angering powerful, willful men. Wonder Woman is snapped harshly back into the here and now as her nose bangs against the mirror and she feels Pascal’s hot, hard penis drive hard to the core of her back channel.

“Aaugghhh!” She yelps, yanked into the harsh reality of a relentless assfucking. “Oww! ..st...stop....please...stop...” She sees nothing but her wild blue eyes wide with pain reflected back at her from the mirror shoved into her mashed face.

“Stop? Not likely, mon ami. I am just getting started.” Holding her belt in both hands, Pascal turns his head to the side, winks at a side camera in the room and thrusts his hips against the naked Amazon’s backside with a flurry of short hard jerks. “I mean, how often does one get to fill Wonder Woman’s ass with cock?”

“..Uuunggh!...Uuunggh!...Uuunggh!...Uuunggh!...”

Now the grunting heroine’s forehead bumps and slides along the mirror on a film of spent cum as she is roughly taken from behind. The man’s hard rod jams into her rear end over and over, making her tits shudder and her buttocks shimmy as her body is repeatedly jolted.

Wonder Woman closes her eyes, wishing herself away as Pascal’s grip slides up from her belt across her smooth belly and up to her breasts. The hands encircle them, palming them with warmth, gliding across their wide smooth spheres. Just as Artemis had once done. Her sister in combat, and her friend in the night, those secret lusty nights.....

“Oh, Diana, these are so marvelous, I can’t keep my hands off them,” Artemis smiles with a gleam of desire in her eyes and that’s matched by the shine on her quickly-licked lips. Her hands envelope the soft round globes as much their size will permit and she squeezes them with fingers made powerfully strong with hours of practice with bow and arrow. The firm delightful mauling continues for a spell before the clever fingers find the nipples at each breast point and slowly rub them until a gasp and moan flutter from Diana’s pursed lips.

“Mmmmhhh....” the Amazon princess coos, “you’re as deft with those fingers in the bedroom as you are on the archery field. “...mmm....more...” she pleads and her red-haired friend offers her gentle nips to her princess’ brown nipples with her teeth, then rubbing them with her lips and finally circling them with her tongue to bring a squeal of delight from Diana.

Bringing playful combat to the sheets, Diana’s hands dive for Artemis’ patch of red fluff between her legs and combs her fingers roughly through it, tugging to tease then holding firm while diving in with tongue and teeth at the furrowed prize below.

“Oh, you she-devil. That’s not fair!” The redhead yelps with glee as her crotch is savaged by that same devilish tongue and eager teeth. The princess of the Amazons is relentless and lovingly cruel, battering at Artemis’ defenseless pussy for blissful minutes until the red pony-tail jerks hard, her green eyes roll back and the young warrior shudders in a helpless wet rush of glory. Diana is in mid-laugh when her powerful friend’s grip on her nipples tightens down hard, unexpectedly brutal for such an accomplished lover.

“Aaarrghh! That hurts!” Diana cries out loudly.

“Oh, does it, Wonder Woman?” Pascal’s mocking sarcasm and warm breath in her ear jolts the heroine back to the awful present with a shock of pain. Her nipples sting with the compression of them between uncaring fingers even as the Frenchman’s cock drives deep into her ass.

“Uuunggghhh!”

“Tell me, should I be more tender, hero?” He gradually pulls his dick out of her rear, so slowly that the Amazon warrior can’t help feeling every backsliding inch of his hard warmth. “Like that perhaps? Should I play the lover you yearn to feel between these rubbery cheeks?”

This isn’t lovemaking in any sense but rather pure hatred in the form of a slow furious dick making its anger felt. And then the return thrust comes. Hard, fierce, demanding. It is followed by three more. The searing hot shaft plows deep into her rear so it draws a cry from Wonder Woman as she is pounded into submission.

“Aiee! Ow...ohhhhh...”

“What, no clever comebacks, hotshot? Is the piercing fire of the foe who has bested you like a raping Mongol with his trophy peasant girl too much for you?” A final driving thrust to her ass brings a jolt and a grunt to the beauty shoved hard against her own reflection. “Well, sorry, bitch but no compassion for you today. Today you reap the whirlwind.”

Pascal’s hands, balled into fists, suddenly push against the inner edges of her ass cheeks. He pushes them wide apart as he returns to the almost slow-motion withdrawal of his penis from her cavity, drawing it out of her in centimeter increments as her palms and her face press hard against the slippery glass and she sighs with the breath of total abandonment, of lost hope. He is too strong for her. She can fight him no more than she could fight the Minotaur of Crete whose hooves felt so much like the fists now shoving her ass apart. The helpless desire to simply let him have his way feels so familiar, so tempting to merely submit her body to the hard, heaving physique behind her...

The Minotaur bellows in victory as his huge phallus drives home into Diana’s ass. She had fought the man-beast bravely and fiercely across the rocky terrain of that dark maze. Giving no measure, showing no pity. Nor he with her and in the end, her sword was knocked into the dirt and she as well, driven to her knees by his endless strength and canny fighting skill. The man part and the beast part had combined to overwhelm her with brains and brute strength.

After that it was a savage, frenzied coupling in which she had no say. She remembers it vaguely, dazed at the time. But the repetition of that scene in her mind in the intervening years has burned its path from mind to heart.

He is pulling off her briefs. The blue fabric and white stars shred like tissue paper in his hands. Her feminine treasures are revealed in the flickering light of the nearby torch set in the iron ring embedded in the stone wall. Bleary from his smacking hoof to her head during the fight, she lies on the cavern floor, incapable of resistance. He yanks down her top, rending it to ribbons as well and then falls upon her with bright animal eyes tinged with cunning humanity.

He is enormous and undeniable, a force of nature beyond all she has ever known. He kneels before her and pushes her limp legs over her head so both holes are spread like a tasty buffet before him. Her unfocused fluttering eyes show his form leaning forward and he chooses the rear hole: the cavity of shame, the one chosen by heartless victors needing undeniable proof of their dominance. There is a sloppy spread of wetness on her exposed rectum that can only be the beast’s thick drool.

His girth fills her to capacity and beyond. The fluttering eyelids spring wide and her mouth gapes in a squeal of agony. A shaft no smaller than Zeus’ lightning staff has struck her to the core. And it begins to move within her. Back and forth it plunges while his huge arms pin her ankles to the dirt beside her ears. Here at least the maze’s floor is not rock but soft loam where water once pooled. Now it is a bed of softness that cradles Diana’s body as she is jolted over and over by the lowing beast on top of her.

He owns her completely and the friction of his tool and the savage pleasure it spreads cannot be refused. The pain of his girth eases greatly now and the glistening drool is joined with the steady flow of delight from Diana’s loins. His muscles press down on her body, an impossible weight she cannot budge at this awkward position. Soon, she is nearly a mindless thing, centered only on the sensation of her rear channel being pummeled to a quaking tunnel of fleshy paradise. Ecstacy wells from within her as his hefty swinging sack slaps against her rear. There is no fighting this feeling. Her ass blooms with heat, a rushing now in her ears. The beast’s heavy panting as he pushes into her sounds like the huge bellows used to keep Hera’s son, Hephaestus’ hearth blazing hot enough to forge weapons for the gods. The rawness of the sound coming from his throat matches her own as she rises to the height of the hill before that endless plunge into pleasure.

All the pressure on her, the weight, the bulk of him, his mighty phallus, it would all be devastating, possibly even fatal to her if not for the girdle he’d left around her waist. She feels it tugging into the sandy floor of the cavern even as her breath catches and she freezes in absolute joy of the finest sexual peak she’s ever reached.

“...you...sound....like you’re...enjoying this....Wonder Woman...” Pascal’s hoarse rasping taunt drags the Princess of Themyscira back to her own private hell as he yanks on her mangled belt and pulls himself into her ass – over and over now with a demonic frenzy.

“...what....i....whuh....ohhhhh..... no...no....whuuuh....?.....”

Wonder Woman stares into the mirror a foot away as Pascal holds a hunk of her hair in one hand and her ruined belt in the other. Her cum-smeared face is accented by a incredibly stupid smile and blue dreamy eyes filled with absolute lust.

The befuddled and frantic heroine tries to pull away in a final desperate attempt to escape but with each pull forward or to the side, Pascal counters it with a responding yank of her belt. This tug of war just causes his dick to plunge into her once, twice and then several times more and the incredibly arousing friction coupled with the fresh memory of the Minotaur’s prowess brings the final swell of inescapable sweet release. Wonder Woman’s eyes flutter and her vision blurs with a rush of ecstacy she can’t escape. Her orgasm is thunderous and wet.

“HUUUUUUNNNGGGGHHHHHH!”

Her crotch sprays silvery with her pleasure, the very juice of her orgasm spritzing across her legs, spraying Pascal’s thighs and her own, running down her calves and dripping onto the floor. All the while showing the world how Wonder Woman cums.

Pascal gives a show of his own, his face tightening to rigid, the muscles in his lean neck straining like tent cords, his fists shaking as he holds on for dear life to the Amazon’s hair and belt as his cock erupts like Vesuvius inside her.

“OHHH! MANNNNNNN!” Pascal shouts. His pulsing dick sends hot jets of semen deep into Wonder Woman’s ass, causing several shivering after-shocks of pleasure within the heroine. A generous new gush of silvery delight runs down her trembling legs.

“OH. OH. OH.” The Frenchman yells out his unending pleasure as he jerks in place, continuing to flood the Amazon’s rear cavity with
his seed. Mindless, he yanks on the dark mass of hair and pushes it forward in his excitement, slamming the moaning beauty’s forehead into the mirror.

CRACK! Tinkle! Crash!

The mirror shatters, breaking into wide shards that fall to the floor in a cascade of flashing silver that mimics the cum draining down the heroine’s leg. And Wonder Woman’s world crashes to pieces as well. She had come to a huge raging orgasm in the grasp of this evil monster, her very belt, the supposed symbol of her mighty power and a gift of the gods themselves, had helped to cause her ultimate humiliation.

She has no reason to live. Everything she is, everything she had worn in her fight for justice and equality had been used against her, toys to degrade her, obscene objects to mock her dignity. Nothing can be saved from this ash heap of her soul. She is shattered beyond measure and her brain gives her release by shutting down completely. Wonder Woman falls off Pascal’s shrinking cock in a tumbled heap on the floor of the study, her eyes white, her face worn and soiled, her ass dripping with the thick fluids of her conqueror. Pascal zips up, looking down at the Champion of All Women with a leer.

“Mon dieu, that went well.”

* * *

The first, second and third floors of the warehouse proved no more fruitful to Sal and Jimmy than the basement. Plenty of time is lost searching a combination of open spaces of floors with nothing but empty columns and stacked pallets as well as locked offices, boarded up storage containers and utility rooms. It’s Sunday evening now, around 8:25 and not a peep to be heard. With every floor searched, Sal feels that this whole endeavor is nothing but a wild goose chase. In fact, the entire day felt like that. Frustrated, Sal stops his search of the fourth floor and calls Steve Trevor.

“Major, it’s Sal Abato. What’s happening with Wonder Woman and this Pascal guy?”

“It’s not good Detective,” Steve replies, his voice filled with concern. “She seems disoriented and frankly she’s now being sodomized by this guy. Are you at that warehouse searching everywhere?”

“We are, Trevor, but it doesn’t feel right to me or my partner. You’re convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that the website signal is coming from this location?”

“I am and so are my men.”

“I can’t see the website, obviously, Major. Does it look like warehouse surroundings?”

“No. I wouldn’t say that, Abato. More like a home. A nice upper class residence.”

“Fuck! Damn it to hell, we were on the way to Pascal’s residence when you sent us here, Major.”

“That is precisely where the signal is coming from. Have you searched the whole building?”

“No, but it’s not...”

“Maybe he retrofitted the warehouse to look like a residence. I don’t know, Abato, but I wouldn’t leave there until the whole place is searched.”

“That could cost us even more time, Trevor! What about Wonder Woman?”

“She can take care of herself. Despite how things look. She always seems to get away. Take the extra time to be sure about that building, detective.”

“I’ll do it, Trevor but if you think getting fucked in the ass is taking care of herself, maybe you should try it sometime!” Sal snaps his old model flip phone shut with an angry click. “Come on, Jimbo. We’ve got two more floors to waste our time with.”

“Whatever you say, partner,” Jimmy says, shaking his head.

* * *

Rene Pascal stands over Wonder Woman’s motionless fallen figure after returning from washing his face and hands in the bathroom off his office. Her breasts rise and fall in slow even breaths so she is not physically distressed. Mentally, he’s not sure what the story is. She seemed to be very disassociated at times while he was plugging away at her ass. And that final few moments after she came, she seemed nearly catatonic. He didn’t think he’d given her a concussion by knocking her head against the mirror but he squats down beside her to check her forehead that’s tilted to the side on a Persian area rug where she fell. At least her whole body didn’t collapse on the rug. The cum dripping out of her butthole at least was only dripping on the wood parquet flooring, not ruining it like the carpet where Flare burned it. Heroines: what were you supposed to do with them? They never seemed to care about other people’s property. The bitches!

There’s only the slightest bump and patch of red on Wonder Woman’s forehead. Pascal slaps her cheeks with some energy behind it.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty! Wake up. It is time to go downstairs. Wakey, wakey!” He pinches her nipple for good measure.

“....ohhhhhh......” The once mighty champion rubs a dangling sliver of drool from the corner of her mouth and her eyelids open with almost creaking slowness. “...whut...whuh...?...” Her head stays pinned to the carpet, her brow furrowed.

“Get up, Princess. I am taking you back down to the lab.”

“..whut...where..?..”

“My lab. Where all the fun happens. Come on, lard ass,” Pascal says, taking her elbow and trying to pull her to her feet. “Rise and shine.”

“...whuzza point...?...” The Amazon is a dead weight on the floor of the study, unwilling to make any effort.

“The point is I said so, your highness. And I am the king of this castle. Move it!” He leans over and clocks Wonder Woman with a hard bitch slap to her left cheek.

“OWW! Alright...okay...I’m...i’m...getting ....up...” she says, weighted down by all that’s happened to her today. She awkwardly struggles to get to her hands and knees, obstructed somewhat by the tight blue and white panties gripping her thighs. Wonder Woman’s mental discipline is ruined. She can’t focus and doesn’t care about anything. Driven only by pain and her need to avoid it, she tries once again to get to her feet but topples over onto her side. Pascal looks down at her and shakes his head.

“You are pathetic,” he says to her dazed and drifting pale blue pupils. They don’t show any light behind them and the once world-renowned beauty lies there in a funk trying to figure out what this man wants from her.

“Look at that cow-faced moron,” Gary declares, his elbows on the counter with his palms cupping his face. “She couldn’t put two and two together with a calculator.”

“The light’s definitely out in that attic,” Roger agrees.

“Bitch be toast,” Jamal adds.

“Fucked in the ass and fucked in the head. It ain’t her day,” Jake sums up.

“Serves her right, the arrogant cunt,” Gary says, now waving at the tv screen. “Always thinking she’s better than everybody. Now she’s no better than the town slut. Dumb as shit and an easy lay. That’s your super hero now, fellas. A pretty face suited for sucking cock, a blazing hot bod fit for fuckin’ and nothing more to say about her.”

Wonder Woman tries to get to her feet again but Pascal put his hand on her shoulder and pins her on her hands and knees before she can rise any further.

“No, cherie. That ship has sailed. If you do not want to stand then you can crawl. Do it or I will beat you with this strap until you bleed. Understand?”

“...yes...” murmurs the withdrawn, severely depressed heroine.

“Yes sir, you mean.” He snaps the leash’s circled handhold against the bridge of Wonder Woman’s nose and she yelps in pain then lowers her head.

“...yessir...” she answers.

“Good, now follow me, bitch. We are going for a walk.” Pascal takes the red patent leather leash in hand, wraps it around his fist as is his style and he yanks hard on the strap. Wonder Woman topples to her forearms, her ass high in the air. Quickly seizing the opportunity, Pascal touches a key on the cell phone now in his hand and one of the cameras zooms in for a close up of the Champion of All Women’s semen-dripping ass.

“Is that his...I mean..is her ...uh..rear end...leaking his...you know...?...” Etta’s face is pink.

“Well...um...yes...Etta...I’m afraid so.” Steve looks at the IADC Sergeant and frowns but he can’t help notice the perspiration gathered at her temples. For himself, he’s ready to fuck a watermelon if it came to that.

Surreptitiously, he gives Etta a good hard appraising look. Hmmm, I wonder.

“Come on, get up you dumb bitch,”Pascal commands. “Time for walkies!” Holding the leash high and pulling Wonder Woman’s head up with a snap, Pascal moves forward and the choking, bewildered beauty is forced to follow him, scrambling on her hands and knees.

“Watch the broken glass, girl. Don’t want to hurt those paws of yours.”

On all fours, the mighty Amazon warrior scurries along, circumventing the broken mirror as best she can while being pulled along by her “owner.”

He opens the door to his study and heads into the carpeted hallway, pulling on her leash with urgent tug and a “come along, my pet” every now and then as they make their way along the hall. The hallway camera picks up the view of Wonder Woman rear end from behind. Her wide cheeks sway and shift, wobble and bump as she crawls quickly along the carpet. With the phony costume panties gripping her thighs, her speed is impeded but the sashay of her rump is accentuated. The camera following her progress doesn’t miss a trick, capturing every side to side wiggle, every fold of her pussy, every oozing droplet of cum pushing out of her balloon knot with HD clarity as she travels the 30 feet between Pascal’s office and the upstairs bedroom.

From around her waist, the shine off of the famous belt’s twisted, scored and badly damaged edges glimmers occasionally as the Champion of All Women is walked like a pet bitch to her doom. The camera focusing on her face is fed to the site as Pascal slows his pace near the end of the walkway. The heroine’s head nods dully, her lidded eyes, flat and spiritless, focus simply on the carpet as the obedient beauty just waddles along, trying to keep her balance and wondering if she was going to have to eat out of a dog food dish. She realizes she may have to.

The man and his new pet walk through the sparse bedroom until they reach the elevator.

“Okay, bitch. Let’s lose the panties. Sit on your rear and take them off nice and slow. Give the folks at home a show.”

Curling around to sit on her haunches, Wonder Woman brings her knees to her chest and pushes the tight blue undies up her thighs and then over and down past her knees. She lets them go and they fall past her calves into a puddle around her feet. But when she lifts her right leg and leans forward to pull the silky garment off her foot, the dazed and distracted heroine overbalances badly. She goes toppling over to her right, her arms collapsing to the sides. Her right knee bangs against the hardwood floor with her left knee still fixed high in the air. Pascal takes an immediate step around, touches a button on his app and uses his cell phone camera as the main feed for the website. He shoots the view of Wonder Woman’s pussy gleaming pink and wide as she lies immobile on the floor, distressed at her clumsiness. The sudden movement has forced a final thick dollop of cum to spurt out of her ass and glimmer white and damning in the shot. In the background, the view and sound of heavy tits slapping and jiggling completes the humiliating view.

Looking up at Pascal with worried eyes for perhaps doing something deserving of another nasty snap of the leash to her face, Wonder Woman is relieved to see him smiling from behind his cell phone. He gives her a very pronounced wink and says in a clear and masterly tone, “That’ll do, pig.”

* * *

Jimmy Glendennan presses his back up against the sheet rock wall and holds his gun up with one hand, muzzle at the ceiling. He holds his small penlight against his leg, aiming it at the floor as he prepares himself to launch his body around the corner at the loud bang he’s just heard. He’s sweating with a combination of fear and tension and the steady physical exertion of clearing a huge 130,000 square-foot building floor by floor. His partner Sal is off in another part of the huge fourth floor of this apparently abandoned warehouse continuing to search for Wonder Woman or this sadistic French prick Rene Pascal. Jimmy doesn’t think anyone’s in this dump but he can’t be absolutely certain. And that crash he’s just heard could be important. Gearing up his nerve, the Irish detective takes a breath and mutters to himself.

“It’s probably nothing. The wind through a broken window...”

Swinging around the corner, Jimmy sets his feet and brings his right arm up in a crouched shooting stance and faces a corner of the building crowded with shadows. The thickly- grimed windows allow very little illumination from the streetlights outside. But the penlight cuts a small hole through the dark and Jimmy sees the sudden movement of a small form dashing to the left. He swings the beam after it but it’s gone. And then before he can swing the light back toward the corner, two more small figures rush out of the dark right at him, screaming at the top of their lungs. Splitting up and flashing past him, the feral cats speed away, yeowling behind him now as Jimmy shouts out a loud exasperated, “FUCK!”

“Trouble, detective?”

Jimmy spins around and almost puts a bullet into his partner who is standing there shining his own penlight right into Jimmy’s eyes.

“Fuck, Sal!!!” Jimmy squawks, turning his head away. He starts taking deep calming breaths, between curses and complaints. “....creeping up on me like that...” “...stupid damn cats should have their guts turned into tennis rackets...” “...waste of our damn time....”

“You’re right about that, partner. But this floor’s clear and just one more to go. Let’s get it done as fast as possible. No matter what those clowns at IADC say, there’s nothing here. They’ve screwed this up and Wonder Woman may end up paying for it with her life.”

“And I just lost a year of mine with those fuckin’ cats scaring the piss out of me.”

Sal shines the light at Jimmy’s crotch and smiles as he says, “That may be but your adult diapers are doing their job.”

“Moron,” Jimmy scowls, turns and heads toward the stairs with the sounds of Sal’s chuckling following behind him.

* * *

“Stand up, Wonder Woman.”

Pascal stands over the virtually naked Amazon and looks down on her with smug satisfaction. He’s beaten her absolutely in body and spirit. A thick clot of his cum marks the floor between her thighs in a messy white clump as she sits there shaking. Her demeanor is one of a frightened cur.

After toppling over in such an ungainly way, flashing her pussy to his hand-held phone camera, the befuddled beauty has just stayed in place, looking up at her captor with worried eyes. Pascal jerks the leash and this snaps her chin up with a click of her teeth. “Get up and get in the elevator. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

The beautiful heroine unfurls her amazing body and awkwardly gets to her feet, steadying herself with a hand on Pascal’s shoulder as she sways in place. Only minutes ago she’d been roughly ass-fucked and been harshly head-butted into a mirror hard enough to crack it into pieces. And then she’d been walked like a dog, made to crawl down a 30-foot hallway on her hands and knees.

Wonder Woman had been vaguely aware at the time that she’d been recorded doing this but she didn’t know that the feed hadn’t just gone to the subscribers who’d paid the $29.99 fee. Instead, Pascal had fed that humiliating view of her making that forced crawl to the entire set of visitors to the site to help build an audience. Over 3.7 million visitors had watched that walk of shame.

Now she wavers in docile confusion before Pascal and a massive world-wide audience, her tits and pussy on display, her eyes heavily lidded and her posture that of a thoroughly vanquished opponent. The useless belt around her waist, her only apparel, is giving her no strength, no energy, no hope whatsoever. The mangled gold girdle has let her down completely this day. It only offered enough strength at times it seemed to keep the punishment from causing critical injury yet not enough to let her fight back. Diana’s hand drifts down to it, rubbing it surface as if trying to coax life from it like Aladdin rubbing his lamp. The magic is gone though and Pascal jerks the leash once again as the elevator door slides open.

“Get in,” he commands and she does as he releases the leash. Wonder Woman walks slowly and unsteadily to the rear of the cab, turns around and stands there with her hands hanging at her sides, simply looking at the floor, mute and obedient. He reaches around and pulls out the red “Stop” key to keep the elevator doors open and in hold mode. Turning, he looks up at a nearby ceiling-mounted camera and smiles widely.

“Okay, madames and monsieurs, ladies and gentlemen, we will be taking a short break while I transport our lovely companion downstairs to a very special location for some more very enticing sex play. In fact, the famous Wonder Woman will be donning a clear rubber catsuit, she will be hung from the ceiling in a PVC strap harness, and she will be stimulated to at least two rousing orgasms for your viewing pleasure. And after that I will introduce some very erotic asphyxiation stimulation for your entertainment.”

His eyebrows arch and wiggle at this and then he takes out his handheld camera, pointing it at the famous heroine standing in the elevator. She is listing slightly, her eyes vacant and her mouth slack. The bright red leather leash dangles between her bare breasts with the looped handle lightly brushing against her left inner thigh and then the right.

“Why is she just standing there, Steve, doing nothing?” Etta’s voice is high pitched, her plump face drawn tight with worry. “Doesn’t she realize she’s naked, exposed to the world like this?”

“She looks totally out of it. Almost catatonic. I’ve never seen her look so beaten.”

A tiny drop of blood from a cut sustained by Wonder Woman’s forehead smashing against the mirror in Pascal’s study drips down the side of her face and she doesn’t even lift a hand to tend to it. Pascal beams that image to the world and then turns off the handheld, shifting the scene to the nearby overhead camera which he addresses with a gleam of delight in his eyes. But then he gives the camera a well-practiced frown. He’s planned this moment well in advance.

“Sadly, my friends, I have neglected to install a camera feed in this elevator,” he says. Neglect has nothing to do with it. Greed is the driving force here. “This means that there will be five minutes of down time before the show resumes. But let us use that time constructively, shall we? You will have five minutes to decide if you want to spend an additional fee required to access that very arousing presentation. The extra non-refundable fee comes to a mere $69.95. Those who pay it will be very glad they did. Those who cannot afford it will be able to purchase high-quality captioned screen captures after the fact for the reasonable amount of $14.95 for two 20-picture sets.” Pascal smiles at the camera at this juncture.

“Why does it cost five dollars more than the earlier photo sets? The erotic content will be greater. More full-body views will be seen. More exotic positions will be offered. And, because I say so. It is a seller’s market, my dear friends, and I am holding the goods.”

Pascal points to elevator and the scene merely shows the side view with Wonder Woman hidden inside the cab. “And now that Wonder Woman is out of the picture for the next five minutes, that should help you realize just how much you’ll miss our lovely companion if you don’t continue with us for the next incredible installment. But enough marketing hype, the site will shift to the option screen during this five minute period. The clock will show the countdown. When it is over, those who pay the fee will continue to enjoy the show, those who don’t pay can continue to review all the other purchase options. Choose well, my friends. I assure you, you will not be disappointed.”

Pascal flashes a thumbs up sign and is about to walk in to the elevator when he pauses and turns to the camera once more.

“Oh, one more thing, my friends. You may or may not have noticed that there is a small link to a comments area at the very bottom of the home page. It is kind of easy to miss with all the distracting photos of the naked Wonder Woman looming above it, but if you click on it, I would love to hear from you all and how you are enjoying the experience. I will even share some of the better ones perhaps in a slow moment later on. Try to be clever and creative. Anyway, see you in five minutes. The clock starts now. Au revoir.”

With a wave to the camera, Pascal walks into the elevator, resets the elevator to Go mode and pushes the button for the basement. He stands side by side with the naked Amazon beauty as the doors slowly slide shut. Everything about the elevator was slow: the doors, the rate of descent, the slow hum of machinery working at its own pace.

Wonder Woman is now looking up at the numbers above the door. 3-2-1-B. Right now the 2 was lit. They were going down. Very slowly.

“Ah, at last, some precious alone time, cherie.” He takes the leash in his hand as he turns to face her. She doesn’t take her eyes off the overhead numbers and he shrugs and speaks.

“Not in the mood for conversation?”

Nothing but silence from the heroine whose gaze remains fixed over the door. Pascal turns back to face the front of the cab and smirks to himself.

“Etta, watch the screen clock. I’ll get my wallet for this fee.”

“You’re going to fund this bastard’s evil plan?”

“Hell no. The IADC will. Have to. We need to stay abreast of what happens.” Steve dashes out to retrieve his uniform jacket from the break room.

“Abreast, huh? More like two breasts,” scoffs Etta. But she’s excited and uneasy to see what will happen next.

“Okay, you clowns, pony it up,” says Gary as the clock ticks under the four minute mark. “You’re not buying any magazines. You’re all just standing here drooling and itching to pull your puds! I ain’t going to finance your sex dreams!”

“You fuckin’ cheapskate,” Jamal barks. “This is like a national holiday. You ought’a be funding this for customer goodwill and shit.”

“You know, Jamal, my man, you’re right,” Roger chimes in. “It does feel like a holiday. And I’m feeling flush right now.....”

“Not in my store you don’t,” snaps Gary. “Go whack off in the alley!”

“You misunderstand me, you dumb hick,” Roger replies calmly. “I’ve had a good week of sales and am feeling flush with funds. I will pay the full fee for all of us. My treat.”

“Hey, thanks, Rog,” Jake says, pumping Roger’s hand enthusiastically. “That’s mighty white of you.”

“What he said,” Jamal grins.

“Give me your credit card, dickwad, time’s only got two minutes left.”

“Your welcome, Gary,” sighs Roger, handing his card over for processing. Gary runs the card through the site’s payment screen with only half a minute to spare.

“I hear that they are expecting some rain later tonight,” Pascal comments like they’re just two strangers in mall elevator passing a quiet moment before rushing to sale on home furnishings at Ikea. “Going to be a real drenching. We could get a inch or so.”

The naked swaying heroine says nothing. She just watches the numbers. Her brain has gone into neutral. She’s just waiting for the 1 to light up next.

“How about some music?” Pascal pushes a blue button marked M on the very bottom of the steel plate and the cab is suddenly filled with soft urgency.

“Help! I need somebody. Help! Not just anybody. Help. You know I need someone....”

The Beatles offer mocking commentary to Wonder Woman’s plight while Pascal hums along. His eyes flicker brightly over the delicious curves of the bare-assed Champion of All Women even as the irony escapes her dulled faculties.

Pascal hadn’t programmed the song in. It was pure happenstance it’s come up on the tape loop at this moment. Still, the Frenchman now knows with absolute certainty that the universe approves of what he’s doing here. The moment is too good not to savor it. He looks to the side at the tall, wavering Amazon beside him. Her shoulders are slumped forward, her tits hang quietly still, their nipples slightly stiff from the cool air circulating around them. The lethargic beauty is gazing up at the numbers without a thought in her pretty head it seemed. Pascal begins to softly sing along with the music being piped into the elevator.

“And now my life has changed in oh so many ways. My independence seems to vanish in the haze...” He nudges the befuddled beauty and lifts his eyebrows. “Sound like anybody you know, cherie? Maybe a little lost heroine on a leash perhaps?” He gives the leash a sharp tug and Wonder Woman stumbles to the side into Pascal. He gives her breast a good squeezing before setting her up straight again. The heroine straightens her back a bit, standing taller now as she returns her gaze to the numbers. The number 1 is finally lit.

“But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,” the Frenchman croons. “Now I find I've changed my mind...and now I’m just a whore.”

Wonder Woman’s head swivels slowly to the side and a spark of life glistens there.

“Don’t! Do not....mock me,” she says with a quiet defiance, her eyes bearing down on his.

“But you are so mockable, cherie,” Pascal answers, completely unintimidated by her. “Standing there naked with your useless power belt. Your ass dripping with my cum. Tell me you are not!”

“I...I am an Amazon princess.” Wonder Woman’s chin juts forward. The dullness in her expression is dissipating at last.

“You were. I am not sure what you are now. Sloppy seconds? Throw-away thirds? Flabby forgotten fourths? You are certainly not the Champion of All Women anymore. Your days as a role model for young girls around the world is over, cherie. Everyone has seen you suck my dick; they’ve watched you take my cock in your tight cunt and scream with the pleasure of it; they’ve heard you admit to loving the feel of being fucked in the ass and swearing I am your best.”

“Second best,” Wonder Woman answers sullenly, intently watching the numbers until the B is lit. The destination of the basement and Pascal’s laboratory doesn’t even fill her with dread at this stage. The Amazon warrior has accepted her defeat at this man’s hands. Every step of the way he has bested her. Again and again without fail she has proven the lesser of them in her tactics and her will. From his power to overwhelm her with her own lasso to the ultimate disgrace of him turning every other item of her uniform against her to his own advantage and her everlasting shame, he has proven himself her superior. Were she to fight or resist anymore it would merely bring additional dishonor to every living Amazon. She won’t do that again. She will go to her death with dignity from here out, no matter how cruel or painful or protracted the experience.

“I stand corrected. Bettered by a steer. However will I live it down?”

“You could practice on cows.” The Amazon hopes to goad him into killing her in a frenzy but he just chuckles and tugs her leash gently.

“You vixen.”

At last the B above their heads lights up and the doors slowly part revealing the storeroom of the basement.

“We have arrived. March forward, my pet. I believe you know the way to the laboratory.”

Wordlessly, Wonder Woman strides toward his domain and her certain doom with a calmness that is a quiet center to her world now. She is to die here today. Were Detectives Abato and Glendennan to even arrive at this point, the Frenchman would have a way to deal with them. He was that prepared. That good. The relentlessness of the man might be admired if she didn’t hate him with every fiber of her being.


End of Part 36

[ksire_99]

Wow! Just WOW!!!

Thanks for the great story so far. Looking forward to the fate of our intrepid heroine.

[DrDominator9]

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 37

The fifth floor proved no more productive than the fourth, just more time consuming as both detectives had to try countless locked doors in a warren of storage rooms, aisles of stacked pallets taller than themselves, and several areas of clustered spools of thick cable that also towered over them, some quite precariously.

It took more than twenty minutes to finally get to the far corner of the building before they came face to face with a dark gray electrical panel fastened to the wall. A cable ran from the panel to a wall-mounted control board two feet to the left. A tiny glowing green indicator light showed the control board was live. It was the only thing besides the feral cats in the building with signs of life.

“Son of a bitch,” Sal spits, walking up to the control board. “Five’ll get you ten this thing is connected to a satellite dish on the roof of this place. It’s a fucking remote transmitter, probably connected to either Frenchy’s place across the street or to his home address. Sure, he’s transmitting from here but here’s not where he is. This prick is really pissing me off. Let’s go fry his ass, Jim.”

“You want to pull the plug on him here?” Jimmy nods at the control board with its green indicator light and points his gun at it. “Screw up his little webcast?”

Sal thinks about this for half a minute before answering.

“We don’t know what this guy’s doing to Wonder Woman. I don’t want to spook him or give him any notice we’re tracking him. If he’s good enough to kill super-powered types, we’re going to need the element of surprise I think. Leave it alone.”

“You want to check the roof to confirm the dish is there?”

“I don’t. We’ve wasted more than enough time here.”

The two cops head for the stairs at a brisk trot, their beams bobbing up and down in the dark like moonlight on ocean swells.

* * *

When Wonder Woman reaches the door to Pascal’s lab she halts and stands aside expecting him to open it for her.

He yanks the leash sharply with a snarl and draws a choking squawk from the unbalanced heroine. “You open it, bitch. It is not locked and I am not your fucking footman, Princess!”

Straightening up, Diana twists the knob and moves to enter the lab when another vicious yank from Pascal on her leash pulls her backward against him with an ungainly misstep. His free hand wraps around her and grabs hold of her tit and he holds the naked woman close, whispering in her ear.

“You wait here for a second, cow. I want to set the scene for your worldwide audience first. After all, they are paying good money for a show. They should get value for it, n’est ce pas?”

When she doesn’t answer him, Pascal’s fingernails dig into her nipple with a quick fierceness that pulls a cry of pain from Wonder Woman.

“AAIEE! Yes! Yes, they deserve value.”

“I am glad we agree. Stay, bitch.” Pascal releases her and walks into the room. He takes his cell phone from his pants pocket and looks at the screen. His eyes widen with amazement. Over 122,000 visitors have elected to pay the $69.95 fee and 280,000 have opted for photo sets. He has just earned almost $13 million on the day. It’s already been transferred to his off-shore account, added to the two million already there from the first offers proceeds. Joyous, he keys the app and sets the cameras in the lab to send live feeds to his phone. He sets the app to automatic and it will activate the nearest camera to the transmitter in Wonder Woman’s leather collar to go live. He overrides this momentarily though so he can talk to the nearby ceiling- mounted camera and set the scene for his viewers.

“Good evening, my friends. I see that a large number of you have joined us for this final stage of the evening’s entertainment. A whopping 122 thousand of you will be watching the famous Champion of All Women learn to submit to her master’s whims. I am so pleased you decided to join the party...or to my earlier subscribers who decided to continue with us, to stay for the grand finale trio of acts this evening: Wonder Woman in Bondage! Wonder Woman in Ecstacy! Wonder Woman in Dire Peril of Her Life!”

Pascal motions to the doorway with a come-hither wave of his wrist. “Don’t be shy, cherie. Come show your appreciative audience all your charms. Come and stand right there,”
the tall bearded man points to a spot five feet away from him. He keys the app so the heroine is now the star in the spotlight.

Wonder Woman takes long, prideful strides into the room and the cameras all focus on her statuesque body as she reaches where he’s indicated. She stops, standing naked under the bright fluorescent fixtures shining down on her and her large quivering breasts come to a halt a moment later.

“I believe a slow pirouette is in order, hero. Very slow, if you please. On point, like all the lovely ballerinas do, if you can manage it. I have noticed several times today that you are far more clumsy than I expected for a trained Amazon warrior. I guess they just do not make them like they used to, eh?”

Wonder Woman’s jaw tightens but she says nothing. She bends her left leg, raises herself up on the front edge of her right foot, every toe tightly clenched and bearing her full weight. She starts her slow turn when Pascal yells “No! Stop! This is wrong. All wrong!”

Startled, Wonder Woman falls off point and takes two awkward stumbling flat-footed backward steps. “What?” She can’t disguise the sudden fear in her eyes.

“That piece of trash around your waist. Remove it!”

The jaw tightens again but Wonder Woman reaches behind her back and, with well-practiced hands, easily undoes the hidden catch of her ruined golden girdle. She slips it off her waist possibly for the very last time in her life and her lip quivers with the trauma of it. She blinks back a tear even as Pascal calls out to her.

“There’s a trash barrel right behind you, Wonder Woman. Just toss that worthless old relic right in that.”

Wonder Woman holds her arm out and drops the ruined belt into the barrel then lets her arm fall to her side. She shivers for a second then straightens her back and glares at Pascal who stares right back at her.

“Back on point, bitch.”

Wonder Woman steps back to where she was before and gets back into position. She holds both arms out horizontally and slowly turns her body by quarter turns. With her leg bent and held to the side, her bald pussy is clearly displayed to the cameras that Pascal controls with his phone in hand. He focuses in on the prize and grins.

“That’s right, cherie” he coaxes her on, “twirl for the people. Like a pretty music box figurine....except one that’s butt naked. Show the world that famous Amazon physique, those glorious huge melons, that precious shaved twat of the Champion of All Twats.”

“What a fucking body!” Jake can barely keep his hand off his crotch watching the famous heroine spin in quarter circles on the 54" crystal clear HD television. As she turns, a glimmer of pink vaginal lips is revealed when her flexing thighs shake with the strain of the position the beautiful heroine holds.

“What a fuckin’ snatch,” Gary adds.

“She’s a master of her physical control, having to balance with those heavy hooters on the move,” Roger says appreciatively.

“She’s like an incredible piece of Michelangelo sculpture spinning like that,” Jamal says, awestruck and drawing startled looks from everyone. He notices their surprise and growls, “What? I can’t give props to a world-class piece of white ass?”

“‘Course you can, homey,” grins Jake. “We all just didn’t know we were sharing space with some Masterpiece Theater cracker.”

“Fuck off, all of you!”

The five grinning faces aimed at Jamal turn like animatronic puppets back to the television screen on the wall.

“Oh, Steve, look at her. She’s doing whatever he tells her. I think she’s completely given up.” Etta wrings her hands as she watches the famous beauty complete her last quarter turn on point and rest back down on her soles. Pascal keys a camera behind the Amazon and just catches the heavy wobble of her wide ass after she sets down. The tremors and flexing of the mighty glutes catches Etta’s breath in her throat.

Even Steve’s voice is tight when he comments, “Never thought I’d see the day where Wonder Woman dances to the tune of a monster like him. Tragic. I’m stunned to the core. And where the hell are those detectives?”

* * *

Sal floors the accelerator and Jimmy holds onto the cushioned arm rest as the Italian detective weaves his way through Sunday night traffic in Bethesda. But when he comes up to a crowd of autos leaving a movie theater parking lot, Sal is forced to come to a halt until he gets the siren going. He’s far enough away from Pascal’s residence at the moment so the siren isn’t a concern. The problem is that the bright red and blue cycling roof light and whining drone of the siren doesn’t seem to be concerning the jumble of cars frozen with indecision. Jimmy hops out and starts directing traffic with broad arm movements and crisp wrist and finger work. He hadn’t worked traffic for over 10 years but it’s a skill you don’t lose when you do it for a while. Slowly the jam clears and ten endless minutes later, the two D.C. cops are back on their way to try to save Wonder Woman. Sal has called Dispatch in the meantime and gotten an update. Things with the Amazon hero are not going well.

* * *

Wonder Woman gives the table with the sweat-stained tan leather pad and dangling shackles a wary glance but Pascal’s hand on her elbow guides her past it toward the far right corner of the laboratory. There on the small table against the wall not four feet away rests a pile of clear rubber. Two rubber feet dangle off the side of the table. Diana recognizes what this is and hesitates in her stride a bit at the sight.

Three heroines died wearing suits just like this one!

The red leather leash held in Pascal’s other hand jerks the raven-haired Amazon forward, pulling her hips roughly up against the table. Her hands fly forward, coming down into the rubber pile to help her regain her balance.

“Put it on, mon ami.”

“Are you sure the people wouldn’t prefer to see me in all my...my glorious nakedness?” Though resigned to her fate, the heroine tries to bargain with the devil.

“I am sure they will want to see your face twisted in an uncontrollable spasm of pure ecstasy. This suit will provide that. Put it on, champ.” Pascal unhooks the red leash but leaves the dog collar around his captive’s neck. “Now.”

It is quite a struggle for Wonder Woman to work her body into the tight confines of the clear rubber garment. The use of baby powder in a small canister in the table drawer helps a little but the site’s viewers are treated to plenty of loud grunting, bending, flashing crevices, squeaking rubber, flexing limbs and snapping latex. It takes ten minutes and a few times of Pascal lending a steadying hand on a hip, a breast and a thigh before the famous beauty finally reaches down to smooth out the last stubborn wrinkle of the skin-tight clear rubber cat suit against her lithe and lovely body.

The suit gives a flawless sheen of perfection to the sight of the naked Wonder Woman with her feet spread and her crossed arms under her breasts. The huge mounds strain the rubber with tiny stretch wrinkles that serve to accent their beguiling beauty. Her shaved pussy, clamped tight within the rubber crotch, is displayed like an exotic fish in a sushi market. The camera catches the soft glare of an extensive array of tiny square pads spread all across the amazing rubber-clad body. These stimulation pads are all linked by a micro-thin wire network within the suit to a control box affixed to between Wonder Woman’s shoulder blades.

“Magnifique,” exclaims Pascal who circles his prize like a cattleman surveying a prize heifer at auction. He greedily squeezes her tit flesh, her ass and her bald tightly-packaged pussy with slow lingering passes and Wonder Woman just stands there and allows him such indignities without raising a hand or an eyebrow.

“Man, has he tamed this woman or what?” Jamal is amazed. He’d come up against this domineering female in person and hadn’t liked the feeling. Well, he liked the feel of clutching that soft pussy of hers in his palm, but beside that, she scared the crap out of him. She was one intimidating bitch!

“Son of a bitch!” Gary is staring at the screen with his mouth open. He grabs a catalog from a shelf under the counter, slaps it down loudly on the aged wooden surface and flips through it hurriedly. Poking his finger at the page and then the tv he exclaims, “I knew it! I fuckin’ knew it. That bitch is wearing that exact suit she was askin’ about when she came in here that day; the ‘Cunt Hugger Exciter.’ It was bought for her. And don’t she just look like a slice of heaven wearin’ it!”

“Yeah, so?” Jake is unimpressed by the fact the sale for the cat suit took place in this store. He’s much more impressed by the view of that suit on that body. Boy, did he want to rub one out. The alley was starting to sound good but he was afraid of what he’d miss. Wet dream fodder for the rest of his life. He’d just have to hold on without holding on to it. He grins at this thought.

“So?” Gary declares, “So, this is pure advertising gold! That’s what’s so! I can blow up this catalog page and put it in my window and
make a sign saying ‘As seen on the Internet! Wonder Woman wore this exact suit purchased in this store! 30% off to anybody presenting a receipt from that famous Internet broadcast.’ That’ll draw customers like flies to honey! They’ll come in just to talk to me. This is going to make me rich.”

“That’s good thinking, Gary,” Roger admits. “And it should work for you, but if you don’t mind, you’re disturbing my concentration. Frenchy here is feeling up Wonder Woman’s body like he’s checking for ticks. The man is thorough. I’ll give him that.”

Jamal agrees. He can’t believe that this famous superheroine who can lift tanks is just letting this tall French dude squeeze her titties and ass and her cooz like he’s choosing melons at a fruit market. No quick feels on the sly for him like Jamal had done. No, this man was obviously lording it over Wonder Woman. The bitch had taken a long hard fall to be acting like this. It was getting him hard.

Major Steve Trevor was sporting a hard-on that felt like it was capable of lifting his desk six inches off the floor. The sight of Wonder Woman’s body clad in a tight skin of clear rubber being fondled by a man without a hint of resistance was almost unbearable to him. He clears his throat and picks up the phone to call down to Sergeant Miller but then replaces the handset in the cradle. There was nothing else the man or his tech team could do at this point. It was up to the two detectives now. Picking up the phone again, he consults a note on his desk with Abato’s cell phone number and calls it. Etta watches the screen without taking a breath and the moistness between her legs sends one lonely drip of her excitement down her wide chubby thighs.

“Yes, Detective Abato, this is Major...Yes, I knew that was a possi...no I didn’t exceed my author...Yes, I’m aware of her situa...I can’t be sure how many....No I won’t be able...I’d rather go there and...No I’m not trying to usurp any....Thank you. Yes Detective Abato, I’ll be here if you nee....Hello? Hello?”

Major Trevor’s prick was not hard anymore.


End of Part 37

[DrDominator9]

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 38

“Okay Princess, it is time to get you into your sex harness,” Pascal informs the heroine as he presses a button on the wall above the small table the cat suit had been laid. A click and a thump sounds overhead and Wonder Woman looks up to see a hinged door hanging open in the ceiling. Then the noise of a motorized winch fills the room and a shiny tangle of bright blue plastic straps descends until the looped ends of the straps touch the lab floor. The motor stops and Pascal says, “Climb in, cherie.”

“I don’t know how. I’ve never been in one of these before.”

“Tch, tch. So deprived. Fine, put your left arm in here. No, through this strap. Good. Now the right through here...”

Two minutes later, the mighty Champion of All Woman has allowed herself to be strung up in bright blue, wide PVC straps with her arms and legs spread far apart, her pussy on display and, for an extra bonus, the red, white and blue ball gag used earlier in the day has been inserted into her mouth and harnessed to her head. Her naked ass hangs three feet off the floor of the laboratory and she has been given enough of a push by Pascal so she is swinging side to side for four feet in either direction.

“There! You look just delicious, cherie. How do you feel?”

“Ah...aan....algk...mmphhfff...ooohh!...”

“That was rhetorical, my dear. Especially since not only can I not comprehend a word you are saying but I do not care how you feel; not precisely. I just need you to feel so good that you ‘juice the suit,’ so to speak. The more you cum, the better for everyone. Let me start with a simple nipple stimulation program and see how that works.”

The circle of stim pads surrounding both of Wonder Woman’s areolae begins to tickle and vibrate. The flow of pleasure circles around at a very high speed, drawing a gasp of delight through the ball gag.

“Ah, you like that. Excellent. Let’s see if this pleases you, too, my pet.” With the nipple being contacted by one corner of each of the six stim pads circling it on the areolae, the possibilities for sensational nipple arousal is quite varied. With Nipple Stim Program C Theta engaged, the Amazon’s nipples feel like they are being prodded in a circular sequence every 4 seconds. Six points of subtle pleasure around the edge of the nipple begin firing faster and faster making it feel like a finger is rotating around the nipple at superhuman speeds.

“MMMPPPHHH!” Wonder Woman’s body jerks and bucks as her nipples double in size with pleasure. They grow large and pink in their excitement, hardening and poking against the restraining rubber sheath in obvious delight. The stretch lines created by her nipples are noticed around the globe.

“Oh my,” Etta utters softly, licking her lips. “She seems quite sensitive.”

“Yes.” Steve’s mouth has gone dry suddenly.

“Faster perhaps,” Pascal suggests and touches the phone’s screen.

Wonder Woman’s head drops back, her teeth grip fiercely into the rubber ball in her mouth and her hips shiver in a sexual palsy as her nipples are circled and stimulated by a cyclotron of pleasure.

“GHNNNN!!!”

This program runs for three full minutes. The nipples pulse in time with every fourth high-speed cycle around their circumference. The mighty Amazon female bucks and sweats and moans as the program builds to its conclusion. Her hair flies out in all directions, snapping and whipping with her sweat. Her eyes droop with pleasure. Her back arches and drops, arches and drops. Her fingers twitch and shiver. Her huge chest rises and falls like an ocean in mid-squall.

“And now something for the rest of the body, yes?”

A line of tickling delight flows in slow progression from her breasts down her torso across her pelvis and into the crevice of her sex. Wonder Woman’s body shimmies in place as the tickling flow reaches her pussy. It is a wonderful sensation but she can fight it...until it happens again at twice the pace of the original stream.

“Mmmm....” she moans when it reaches the apex of her thighs.

This is one strange way to kill a person.

The flow begins again and this time it is finished in less than 10 seconds. The next flowing current from her boobs to her pelvis to her snatch takes but five seconds and the next pass is done in half that time.

After that, Wonder Woman stops counting and starts moaning and sighing steadily. Her body jerks and bobs and sways within the careful tangle of snapping, straining bright blue straps. The pathway of pleasure flows from her breasts to her pelvis to her crotch, over and over like a neon arrow at a cheap roadside motel showing the way: Tits, pelvis, cunt! Tits, pelvis, cunt! Tits, pelvis, cunt! Like it’s announcing FREE HBO RIGHT HERE! HERE! HERE!

Wonder Woman’s eyes, barely seen under leaden lids, are pin-balling from side to side. Then she begins to pant heavily over and over. After only one minute and 27 seconds, the world famous heroine grunts loudly several times in a row and the crotch of her clear cat suit shows a squirting geyser of cum that immediately forms a small puddle in the seat of her suit.

“That’s one climax, Wonder Woman. Let us go for another.”

After the first program shuts down, the second one begins. The current passes across her entire chest, around her back and down her spinal column. It feels like pleasant steady pressure from a strong masseuse. The relaxing routine continues for a full four minutes until the enjoyable sensation of pressure extends from the end of her spine into her rear end. Then a tiny rib of rubber in the seat of the suit begins to expand and there is a sudden throbbing pressure of the tiny rubber bulb directly against her anus. Rapid and incredibly erotic, it takes Diana’s breath away. When a second bulb of rubber expands and begins to rapidly pulse over the area of skin directly over where her clit is situated, Wonder Woman lets out a squeal through her gag. The pulsing rate picks up to 75 pulses a minute and that is too much to handle. The dazed dangling beauty begins to tremble and shake once again. The flow of rushing pleasurable energy around her chest, down her spine and into the center of all her pleasure turns Wonder Woman into a blubbering, whimpering, flailing marionette of helplessness. The squeaking rubber, the flexing muscles, the snapping PVC straps, the jerking head and the splattering drool all spell complete erotic devastation for the famed beauty. After less that 77 seconds from the inflation of the ass bulb, Wonder Woman sprays her suit once more with her climax and sags heavily in the harness, a ravaged mindless wreck.

Just when Sal and Jimmy pull up outside the house of Rene Pascal, the obsessed Frenchman sets up the third program built into his rubber stimulation cat suit, and the mighty champion from Paradise Island doesn’t have a prayer of resisting its sensual overload capabilities. He doesn’t quite start that third program yet however.

“I am so glad you are enjoying yourself, Wonder Woman. Your pleasure brings me pleasure. Well, it will shortly anyway. Maybe we should take a moment before we proceed to see what your fans have to say, eh?”

The drooling, sweating ball-gagged heroine hanging in a fog of delirious pleasure is too spent to even grunt at Pascal. She merely sags in place and tries to control her ragged breathing through the ball gag. Her wheezing is very loud.

“Here is a comment from Vlad in Moscow: ‘That's prime heroine pussy. It’s so juicy I could fill a vodka bottle with it.’ Any comment, cherie? No? No matter. Hans from Germany thinks your ass crack would be a perfect place to park his bike. Germans, so practical, yes? Here’s a good one from Luiz in Brazil. He says ‘I’ve seen the Amazon River, WW, and the one flowing from between your thighs gives ours a run for its money.’ Very clever, Luiz. Oh, here’s one from a female friend, perhaps you know her? Etta who claims to be a team member of yours of some kind. Justice League? Anyway, she says ‘Stay strong, Wonder Woman, your sisters are behind you.’ Say, would that be with a strap-on, Etta?” Pascal winks at the camera and laughs out loud. “Well, that is all the time I have for comments now, people, but keep sending them in because we may have time for more later on in the evening. Now however, Wonder Woman will be subjected to her third and final climax in the sex harness and I believe I’ve saved the best for last.”

Pascal shifts from reading the text page on his phone back to his control page. He brings up Full Stimulation Protocol WW-1 and is about to press the start key when the phone rings. His eyebrows fly up at this but he answers the phone with a curious tone to his voice.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Rene Pascal?”

“Yes.”

“This is Major Steve Trevor of the IADC. Stop what you are doing right now.”

“Major Trevor. How charming of you to call. I do believe I came across one of your agents earlier today. What ever can I do for you?”

Wonder Woman’s eyes slowly open. They are filled with surprise and fear

What on earth is Steve up to? What does he hope to accomplish?

“Listen to me, Pascal...”

“I intend to Major, but I have to put you on hold for a moment....”

Back in his office, Steve’s mouth is left agape at this unexpected hitch in his plans. He was hoping to delay Pascal’s further humiliation of Wonder Woman until the detectives could get there. According to a livid Sal Abato, they were just moments away from Pascal’s residence at the time he blistered Steve’s ear. The idea to stall Pascal was all Steve’s own brainstorm. Being put on hold was not in his plans though.

“I apologize for that, Major Trevor, but I wanted to pipe our discussion into the webcast. I have done so. Now the world can hear our little chat. And with Wonder Woman here ball-gagged,” Pascal says, patting the heroine’s cheek softly, “we won’t be disturbed by any of her imperious yammering.”

“Hear this, Pascal. You may think you’re winning right now but it’s all going to come crashing down on you. And soon. You’re not going to get away with this monstrous assault on Wonder Woman, especially with the eyes of the world on you.”

“Excellent! A wonderful blowhard opening.”

“Listen, Rene is it? I implore you, on behalf of all that’s decent, I urge you to stop this and give yourself up. The authorities will be surrounding you shortly and there will be no way out. In fact, Pascal, with what you’ve broadcast I can’t be responsible for their actions. Your life is hanging by a thread here, mister!”

“Major, major, major, really, your negotiating talents are so infantile. How ever did you attain such a high rank being so stupid?” The Frenchman calmly steps up closer to Wonder Woman and slides his hand over her shoulder and down to her rubber-encased tit, giving the right one a slow, firm squeeze. The heroine hangs from the ceiling, her body slack in the blue plastic strap harness. All her limbs are extended outward with her forearms and calves dangling loosely, her ample butt hanging low in the sling, her pussy on display with her thighs spread open. She doesn’t try to buck or avoid his hand. She just lets her head hang back, her neck arched and vulnerable as the ends of her hair sway against the white tiled floor. Wonder Woman groans thickly past the rubber ball gagging her mouth and prays to herself that Steve doesn’t say anything that will anger her tormentor or give away her secret identity.

“I am the one who has focused this attention on myself and Wonder Woman, you fool,” Pascal explains calmly. “I am fully aware that police are on route if not already here. As for surrounded, well, I doubt the term applies when it is simply two men with mere handguns against a veritable fortress. So no, I will not stop what I am doing, Major Trevor. And regarding my life hanging by a thread, I think you can see on your monitor that Wonder Woman is much closer to hanging by a thread than I at the moment.” Pascal gives the harness a sudden tug and Wonder Woman’s body begins to swing from side to side.

“But despite the ball gag, and her drool, and her body stuffed into a rubber catsuit, and being displayed like a side of beef, she still remains beautiful, no? Perhaps because of it, n’est ce pas? Oh, you are watching this, are you not, Major? Judging by the stress in your voice, I can assume that you ultimately did have to pay me to see this vision of Amazon fortitude be reduced to a submissive ass-fucked doormat, correct?”

“Only because I need to keep tabs on you, dirt bag. And I will see you pay for everything you’ve done to that woman, that national treasure, Pascal. I swear it!”

“You Americans: Always making promises you cannot keep.”

“You French: Always trying to weasel out of a fight.”

“Now, now, Major. You will get in trouble with the State Department talking like that. You may even be broken down to a more deserving rank. I think corporal is probably more appropriate.”

Pascal smooths his hand over to Wonder Woman’s other breast, squeezing the left one with a firm clutch of his fingers and dimpling the flesh through the thin clear rubber.

“Now admit it, Major, don’t you wish it was you caressing and squeezing these huge, lovely jugs? That it was your fingers teasing and circling these delightful sensitive nipples?” The tiny brown buds strain and stretch against the thin rubber, showing off the Amazon’s inability to restrain her body from showing off the pleasure she is feeling. Another groan escapes from the naked beauty dangling limply before the entire world. The camera captures the suspended Amazon in all her beauty, her incredible figure encased in gleaming rubber, being so nonchalantly fondled and caressed by her captor. The website is automatically switching cameras now and the overhead one in a far corner zooms in to capture the silvery sheen from a heavy line of drool dangling from the center of the white star on the large ball crammed into Wonder Woman’s gaping mouth. It falls to her chest and runs down her body before sliding off it onto the white tile floor as the subdued heroine stares dully into space.

“If you are any sort of a man, I know you do wish it were your hands gliding over this statuesque figure,” Pascal continues. “Tell me, are you enjoying my little show, soldier boy? The Amazon’s tits are quite fetching don’t you think? Not to mention her delightfully taut abdomen here.” Pascal’s hand travels over the landscape of Wonder Woman’s remarkable body in a slow caress, his palm coursing over the curves and mounds of her rubber-clad physique with complete impunity. Only when his hand glides between her legs does the raven-haired heroine flinch.

“And, of course, her bald pussy,” Pascal says, his hand gripping between Wonder Woman’s thighs as he gives her mound a slow, steady squeeze while winking at the camera. “Are you getting horny, Major Trevor?”

“I sure am!” Jake’s eyes are glued to the wall-mounted television. “This is the best fucking show I’ve ever seen in my entire fucking life. I fucking swear it!”

“I second the young man’s proclamation,” Roger adds. “I’m sorry to say it Gary but there’s absolutely nothing in your store that will ever be able to compare with this. I may have to give up porn after this.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen,” snickers Jamal.

“I second your proclamation, Jamal,” Gary smirks for a moment, before frowning. “Roger here is a windbag. But he IS right about one thing. Business may take a hit after this. Except maybe for sales of rubber suits. We could make out like bandits on those. Good markup, too.”

“Fascinatin’,” Jamal says, “but could you put a sock in it. I want to hear this.”

“How about the rest of you, my friends,” Pascal says with a smile and a brisk slap to Wonder Woman’s pussy that has her wincing slightly. “Are you getting a little worked up by the little show that my Amazon’s here and I are putting on? I hope so, since you paid good money to enjoy yourselves. I would hate to disappoint anyone.” He gives Wonder Woman another snap of his palm against her pubis and grins. “Oh, and thank you Corporal Trevor for calling in. You played a delightfully diverting part of the proceedings. I am sure the French consulate will be contacting your superiors shortly about your demotion.”

Pascal gives a hearty laugh before disconnecting Steve who scowls at his monitor where Wonder Woman is receiving a series of short sharp slaps between her legs. The smacking of his hand on her flesh sounds like very slow applause. They’re not enough to hurt the famous Amazon, just enough to pink up her nether lips and swell up her mound a tad.

Etta bites her lip and lets out a whisper of a moan that has a shocked Steve swiveling his head to look behind at her. The plump sergeant blushes as she coughs and looks down at the floor in shame. When Steve turns back to look at the monitor, Pascal finally stops the sharp little slaps between Wonder Woman’s legs. Etta quickly looks up, sees the Frenchman give a slow, lingering final caress of the heroine’s pussy. The IADC sergeant does all she can to quiet down the sigh escaping from her parted lips. Her panties soak up more of her juicy excitement from the show she’s watching. The pink cotton underwear feels warmly moist as Etta can’t help but rub her thighs together a bit. “Th...tha...that... poor dear. What he’s doing to her... he should be stopped.”

Steve doesn’t think Etta means a word of what she’s saying and though he does wish Pascal could be stopped, it still doesn’t prevent the major from being hard as a spike and frustrated as hell. His plan barely slowed down the man, it fed the bastard’s ego and may have damaged his own career.

Where are those two cops anyway?

Diana is a little sore but feels a small surge of satisfaction that at least her secret identity is still safe for now. But she too is wondering where Sal and Jimmy are. And would they get here in time before Pascal finally brought out his garrotte or whatever it was he used to choke out her heroine friends. She can only hope as Pascal taps the screen of his cell phone and tilts his head up to give the camera up in the corner of the ceiling a brief satisfied smile.

“Now where were we, cherie? Oh yes, I think an adjustment or two is in order.”

* * *

“Car 54, respond”

“We’re here, Dispatch,” Jimmy replies, keying the mike as the two men sit in the car assessing the brick townhouse. “What’s up?”

“We’re tracking this monster’s webcast here, 54, and he’s mentioned that he expects two officers on site shortly with handguns.”

“Isn’t that dandy,” Sal growls, nodding at Jimmy to key the mike open. “Can you tell if he’s monitoring his perimeter, Carla?”

“Hard to say, Sal. He’s got a cell phone that he seems to be using to control the webcast my people here tell me. Currently he’s got his hands all over Wonder Woman and running his mouth like he’s getting paid by the word. He just got off the phone with a Major Trevor I’m being told.”

“Fuck! Are you shitting me?” Sal almost explodes in his seat with fury.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t have the mike keyed on, partner,” Jimmy says with a worried look to his left at the red-faced Italian shaking his head. “That would have cost you another fine. Try to keep it together, huh, Sal.”

“Yeah, I know, but that Major ain’t helpin’ things.”

“He does seem desperate. I think he may have a thing for Wonder Woman. Think he knows his lady agent is his lady love?”

Sal scowls at this. “Maybe. Guy seems a bit thick to me. Either way, if he’s not careful, he could get her killed.”

“So could we. But we’d better see if we can get in there and stop this,” Jimmy nods at the house. He then keys the microphone. “Dispatch, we will survey the property for entry points. Contact either of our cell phone with updates from this point on.”

“Roger that, 54. Cell phone contact from here on. Be advised, suspect is considered dangerous.”

“And an asshole,” Sal murmurs back, thankful Jimmy hasn’t kept the mike open.

Six minutes later, Rene Pascal’s four-story brick mansion has being cautiously and carefully surveyed by the two detectives for booby traps, snares, trip devices and open windows. Circling the house in opposite directions, neither man had found anything dangerous yet. Nor had they found any weak spots where they might have gained access. They met back together around the back of the house.

“Cameras. There and there,” Jimmy points out, the glass lenses reflecting the streetlights in the dark. It is 9:50 p.m. and only some of the houses nearby show lights in the windows. Many residents of this upscale neighborhood have gone to bed early in order to meet their Monday morning’s ready to go.

“Yeah, I saw ‘em. Plus another one on the side that I circled around from. He may know we’re here now if he’s not too preoccupied with Wonder Woman.”

“More than likely. You want to try knocking on the front door?”

“Unless you got a battering ram, I don’t think it’ll do much good,” Sal answers.

“Procedure says we should attempt...”

“Fuck procedure,” Sal interrupts. “This guy is so far off the reservation he’s got frequent flyer miles and a fuckin’ upgrade to first class. We do this smart and we do it fast as we can. I say we break a window and take the fucker out quick as we can.”

“This guy seems like the type to have traps inside. I love you like a brother, Sal, but I’m not getting killed in there. We go in careful. No bull rushing.”

“Yeah, fine. Let’s try that basement window there.”

The double-pane armored glass and a flurry of wasted pounding on the window demonstrates to the cops that Pascal has considered the sanctity of his home as vital.

“Fuck! Now what?” Sal fumes as he stalks around the house searching for any possible soft spots. At the back of the house he sees a way up to a second story window and climbs up. It too has the same armored glass he sees so he doesn’t waste his energy pounding. He peers inside the room, hands at the side of his face to cut the reflections.

“Some sort of home office,” Sal whispers loudly down to Jimmy who’s on the ground looking at the sliding doors leading to a breakfast nook. “A broken mirror but nothing else. There’s no way in here either.”

“I may have something down here,” Jimmy says. “I might be able to jimmy this lock.”

After climbing down to join his partner, Sal stands beside him as the Irishman fiddles with the lock mechanism using a small pen knife blade on his key ring. After three minutes of working the tiny knife into and around the lock mechanism, Jimmy is able to spring the small loose bolt away. With a grin he pulls open the sliding door and waves his arm with a flourish.

“Ta daah!”

“Great. Let’s go find this fucker and end this.”

* * *

“I do think this extra little touch will make things a lot more exciting for you, cherie. Much more intense, yes?”

Pascal steps back and admires his handiwork. Using its dual elastic straps, the scientist has secured a specially-ordered sex shop blindfold onto the face of the dangling heroine. It’s bright blue leather facing is edged with red and white barber-pole trim. The colorful mask covers her eyes completely and half her forehead. To give his audience the best show possible, Pascal has rigged it so Wonder Woman’s head no longer dangles off her shoulders over the floor. Now it is secured by a line from the back strap of the ball gag harness to one of the dangling blue plastic straps over her head. There’s enough slack so it doesn’t pull too harshly but, like now, when the Amazon’s head tilts back slightly it keeps her eyes pointed at the ceiling. If she straightens or even bows her head a bit, she can look between her spreadeagled legs and see her tightly-packaged cunt twinkle in the lights back at her, or could if she weren’t currently plunged into darkness.

The inside of the blindfold is lined in black satin to help block any stray light while offering a sensual feel to the face. Wonder Woman feels the coolness of the satin press against her skin and turns her head slightly to hear where Pascal is moving. He seems to be walking away to her right side. She hears the sound of a drawer opening. He’s at one of his workbenches, silent except for a sudden, “Hmmm. Which ones?”

The hanging Amazon feels yet another fat bead of her drool fall onto her chest. Through the thin but durable rubber, she can feel the heavy drop slide down the valley of her cleavage, gain momentum and rush to her navel. It lingers only momentarily before losing adhesion from the puddle there and sliding down her pelvis and into the fall-off of her camel toe. The pathway has had much of Diana’s drool slide along its course and there will be much more flowing across it as before the hour is up. The slippery pool on the white tiles beneath the suspended heroine spreads out gradually from the runoff of the glistening “Amazon Falls.”

Within the tight rubber suit, under the bright fluorescent fixtures, sweat and condensation from the spreadeagled heroine have begun to build up. The tributaries of perspiration from all over the warm body collect in a small bulge just under the ass crack of the dangling Wonder Woman. A small gray puddle of it shimmers there in the light.

“These should do the trick,” Pascal says, his voice still a distance away from Wonder Woman.

Suspended and plunged into a world of total darkness, Wonder Woman tries to calm her heartbeat which feels like a triphammer. She is resigned to dying here today. She’s too much of a warrior to ignore the signs of probable demise, but she doesn’t want to humiliate herself in front of a worldwide audience. It is this fear that keeps her pulse quick, her body tense, her senses heightened. That and this blindfold, yet another advantage that Pascal had engineered against her. It galls her to no end to realize just how badly she had underestimated his intelligence, his cunning and his planning.

Diana recalls how she’d stood in front of the lifeless bodies of her sister heroines and thought herself above them, more clever and more experienced. She’d thought herself removed from their fates by her heritage and her skills and her god-given weapons. How naive she’d been! How insolent and proud! How incredibly obtuse! They’d all been used against her. Every single element of her heritage had been desecrated, ruined and turned into tools to shame her beyond belief. Step by step throughout this endless day, she’d been outfought, out-thought, out maneuvered and out-classed over and over again. All her warrior skills had gone for naught. Her vaunted willpower had even been overcome and she’d been tricked and abused and treated no better than a stupid alley whore.

Worst of all, she herself had permitted far too much abuse and much too much humiliation to be heaped on her, all in an attempt to preserve her secret identity so she could continue to fight in the long run when she escaped. But she now understood all too well that there would be no “long run” for her now: no future.

Escape seemed impossible even if the two police detectives were to arrive. What keeps the famous heroine slack in the plastic loops swaying despondently in mid-air are two crucial considerations: the slim ray of hope of some miraculous rescue and the realization that Pascal probably had some defensive strategy capable of nullifying any attempt she might make. He’d been ahead of her so often throughout the day she firmly believed he would be so again, so Wonder Woman simply dangles in space, morosely waiting for her fate. Her thoughts have occupied her to the extent that she is actually surprised to hear the Frenchman speak in her ear, and to feel his body heat beside her as he settles down next to her.

“Are you ready for the most overwhelming orgasm of your life, Wonder Woman?”

Startled, she growls loudly around the edges of the foul ball gag filling her mouth, the sound low in her throat. But Pascal seems to find this amusing and chuckles lightly, dismissing any threat to the sound whatsoever.

Diana wishes she could blind this bastard for real. Put out his eyes permanently with the edges of her own tiara. Her lost tiara. Bent and wrapped in a scrap of her costume, it had been used as a dildo. The heroine understands all too well now why Pascal chuckles. Her threats are no more than mild amusements to him based on how little they’ve meant throughout the day. Behind the blindfold, Wonder Woman sheds a few tears of self-pity that dampen the black silk. Not enough to leak out from below the fold. But enough to make the heroine draw a shuddering breath to try to stop her wallowing in depression. She would have to be stronger than.....

Right beside her, the sound of a loud buzzing implement suddenly fills her ears, and the next second after that Wonder Woman’s camel toe is filled with a humming plastic wand that send vibrations through the rubber, through her body and straight into her brain. It is stroked rapidly and firmly up and down the crevice between her thighs.

“MMMUMMMPHHHH!” The shocked heroine’s back arches and her limbs jerk and pull wildly in the PVC traces. Pascal then stops the wand’s movements completely, just holding it between the outer lips of her pussy and letting it simply vibrate there. Wonder Woman mewls through the ball gag at this and then stops herself.

I must not do this. I must not show him weakness. I shouldn’t show him the pleasure he’s causing in me.

For a full minute, the famous heroine simply hangs from the ceiling in a tangle of blue plastic straps trying to ignore the buzzing, thrumming tool pressed against her pussy.

“Is the pleasure building, my dear? It is difficult to tell with all this slippery drool gliding between these puffy lips down here whether or not you are beginning to lubricate from the inside. You could nod your head up and down to indicate yes you’re getting wet, you know.”

The raven-haired Princess just dangles in space, not offering any growls or grunts or nods, merely biting down on the firm rubber ball as more drool slides over her lower lip.

“I suspected you would not indicate anything to me. Well, I will just have to move forward and see what other signals your body might send to provide clues to me and my audience out there just how you are feeling as things progress. Watch carefully, people, and let us see what happens when I do this.”

Wonder Woman feels Pascal slowly begin to slide the smooth plastic dildo up and down between her labia, now well-lubricated by her own drool. He presses the cream-colored shaft firmly into the cleft and continues the patient sawing motion. Wonder Woman’s forehead breaks out in sweat and she clears her throat, trying to hide an inadvertent moan. Pascal’s eyebrow lifts as he looks up, smiles and then draws the dildo to the lowest point of the heroine’s nether lips. There, he slowly grinds the tip into the small concave area of rubber covering the sensitized lips pressed flat by the suit’s crotch. He circles the area slowly, pushing the dildo tip firmly into the rubber and against the slimmest little edge of pink presented there. Wonder Woman’s thighs tremble and she cannot prevent a long low moan from escaping.

“I do believe that was a signal, my friends,” chuckles Pascal.

With a firm twisting of his wrist, Pascal grinds the smooth plastic tip of the dildo against the access hole covering the woman’s vagina. Were the port open, the dildo would be buried deep inside Wonder Woman’s snatch. As it stands now, however, the rounded end of the pointed pleasure tool is generating a heady cascade of joyous ripples between Diana’s legs. She cannot help herself, suddenly spreading her thighs wide and then drawing them closer together in rapid succession, two, three, four times. Restrained by the straps, she can’t nearly bring her legs together. Strung up as she is and off-balance, and she can’t prevent the incredibly arousing thrill to her pussy and she can’t fight the incredible pleasure she feels. Wonder Woman bucks and shakes her head in a plea for mercy.

“EMMMHH! UMMMHHH! OOOHH!”

Oddly enough, mercy is forthcoming. Pascal removes the dildo tip from between Wonder Woman’s thighs and holds the softly humming sex tool against his pant leg in one hand as he gestures at her body with his other.

“I believe that is pretty conclusive evidence that the famous Champion of All Women here enjoys stimulation to her sensitive twat like any healthy female. Thank you, cherie. That small experiment is completed. Now let us get this remarkable rubber suit working up to specification, yes?”

Wonder Woman lets her chin rest on her chest as she tries to gather her strength and her resistance but her body language as she hangs in the straps shows pretty clearly just how despondent she feels.

Pressing just one key on the screen of his cell phone, Pascal launches the program he’d been ready to start before Trevor’s ridiculous phone call: Full Stimulation Protocol WW-1.

As before, the stimulation pads surrounding Wonder Woman’s areolae begin to circle around her sensitive nipples grazing against them with pulsing stimulations at each corner in turn until the buds begin to grow and press against the constraining rubber, boldly displaying her easy arousal. The heroine’s barely-stifled groan through the ball gag reinforces the extent of the raven-haired beauty’s pleasure.

The paying website visitors enjoy the view of the famous beauty as she stretches and writhes and moans within the dangling straps. Her body would be swaying much more heavily were not Pascal gripping her shoulder with one hand as his other reintroduces the long plastic dildo into her pussy cleft with the other. He presses the shaft vertically between her legs, effectively stabilizing her lovely body momentarily even as he continues to excite the jerking beauty.

With the program launched and the cameras set on automatic for the website viewers to get a variety of perspectives, the obsessed scientist can relax and enjoy the torment that his prize heroine is experiencing without any distractions. He looks down at her wriggling spastic body with pure delight. The heroine’s teeth bare down on the rubber ball gag as a flurry of pleasure makes the remarkable figure jerk and dance under his hands.

He slowly pulls the vibrating dildo out down through the twitching flaps of her pussy and around to the back, moving his own body back a step as he draws the plastic wand through the deep crevice between her ass cheeks. The unique design of the Cunt Hugger Xciter suit allows the rubber to cleave tightly to a woman’s body so there’s only the smallest air pocket between her legs. From front and back, both holes of Wonder Woman’s body are tightly packaged and prominently displayed. The suit’s structure even pulls the ass cheeks apart slightly for maximum body availability. And it is this availability that Pascal takes full advantage of. After 30 long seconds of softly probing Wonder Woman’s anus with the tip of the dildo, her tormentor pulls open the tiny round access hole embedded in the rear of the suit. A steady stream of sweat drains out of the hole and when that slows to only a drip, Pascal puts the tip of the dildo into the opening of Wonder Woman’s ass and pushes up with a hard shove of his forearm.

“GHHUUUUUNNNHHH!”

The device disappears up Wonder Woman’s rear as her teeth clench hard around the rubber ball in a shocked reaction to this callous intrusion.

“We are just getting started, mademoiselle. Right now, the program has begun making the most of this anal intrusion. You feel it, no?”

The bastard is right! The stimulation pads placed against her spine are sending signals of pleasure all along it’s length. From her shoulders all the way down to her coccyx, the pads send a glow down her back. The gliding thrill proceeds slowly down her spine at first before picking up its pace. A second stripe of sensuous delight travels from her neck to her ass. And then it happens a third time, then a fourth and then too many coursing runs of pleasure down her back to count. Ultimately, they concentrate all her sensation and attention on the bottom of her spine, ending up at her rectum where Pascal is slowly pulling and pushing on the dildo buried within her at that spot. Then, added to these flowing arrows down her back, comes a circling ring of sensation across the wide surface of her ass cheeks. Like caressing hands they accent the spinal flow and create a shivering charge of pleasure that Wonder Woman cannot resist. What’s more, being blindfolded, the sensations are magnified incredibly and the Amazon princess begins helplessly gasping around the edges of the ball gag and rapidly shaking her head back and forth, sending drool flying in all directions.

“The suit and the dildo feel exquisite, n’est ce pas, cherie, with all those lovely sensations coursing over your naked body, down your back, around your nipples.” Pascal tweaks her left bud with his fingertips, drawing a whimper and an upthrust breast that he captures easily in his palm and squeezes. The rubber squeaks and so does Wonder Woman.

“With this much pleasure, mon ami, I believe you may reach yet another climax shortly.”

Diana realizes that the fiend is right. She tries to settle herself down, to calm her thumping heart, to ignore his warm hand fondling her breast, to concentrate on her anger at being so easily man-handled. She was no better than a toy to this cold-hearted prick. Delving into her Amazon core, Wonder Woman feels the fury deep within her being. She bastes the hate inside her like a cooking fowl. So foul a thing this man. She imagines his soul a withering spastic worm shriveling in the fire of her rage, dwindling to nothing as the flames of her fury...

And then her clit lights up like a pinball machine paying off as the suit’s two stimulation pads straddling her pussy send rapid vibrations back across its surface like a finger rapidly twiddling her to a frenzy.

“EEEEEEEEEEEMMMM!!!”

All of Wonder Woman’s rage and hatred evaporate instantaneously as her body yields to the incredible delights inundating her. She bucks and thrashes in mad abandon, barely fighting back the cresting wave of a climax.

Pascal stops sawing the smooth plastic dildo in and out of her asshole and just leaves the thrumming tool inside her. The beauty’s head rolls on her shoulders as her hips jerk about.

“I thought for sure you were just about to cum there, my dear. Your willpower is most impressive. You sure you would not like to give just one lusty Amazonian battle cry and break down into a helpless quivering mass of flesh and tears? For all your fans watching, no?”

The panting, drooling Amazon does not respond as she pulls herself back from the edge of the precipice of delight she was about to fall over.

“Hmm. I see that you are not quite ready for that yet. A pity. Well, we have time,” Pascal says casually as he takes a second dildo out of his pocket, one he’d taken from the workbench earlier. “Ah well, perhaps this will inspire you.”

Pulling open the wider front access hole on the suit, Pascal exposes Wonder Woman’s hot pulsing pussy to the air for just a quick moment before invading her body for the second time within a seven-minute span with a hard, heavily vibrating plastic dildo.

“HUUUNHH!”

Pascal slowly begins to push and pull this second dildo in and out of the heroine’s slippery snatch even as the suit’s stimulation program shuts down the strobe effect down her back and circling her ass cheeks, merely firing off pleasant clit stimulation arcs every 20 seconds.

“....mmmmmhhhhhh....”

With one dildo sticking out of her rectum just quietly vibrating away while a second dildo is worked up into and back out of her sloppy pussy by a man who knows how to apply friction to her cavity walls in the most patient of ways, Wonder Woman’s head lolls helplessly on her shoulders as the pleasure drowns her thoughts into incoherency.

“....uuuuuuhhhhhh.....”

“I am going to remove your ball gag now, my dear, so you can suck my dick, Wonder Woman. You will do this willingly and creatively or there will be consequences. Do you understand me, trollop? Nod your head twice that you will comply.”

The heroine’s head nods forward and then falls back.

“Was that a yes?” Gary asks aloud, stunned as he watches the big screen, transfixed by the view of the famous Wonder Woman with two dildos jammed up her holes agreeing to give a blowjob to this god among men.

“Did she just agree to orally satisfy that man?” Etta Candy can’t believe what she’s seeing. Her panties are sopping wet with all that’s gone on and it seems like it isn’t going to end anytime soon. Steve is just sitting there watching the monitor, shocked into silence by all he’s witnessed.

“My dear, I could not tell if you were agreeing to my terms,” Pascal declares, “or just rolling your head forward in helpless delight. You must be more vigorous in your movements, my sweet.”

“...uhhh...huuhh.....’esss...” Wonder Woman replies through the ball gag, bowing her head forward twice in quick succession.

“Excellent.” Pascal leaves both dildos thrumming away inside the famous beauty’s holes as he walks behind her and unbuckles the ball gag. He then unties the line connecting the bondage gag to the PVC strap holding the swaying heroine’s head. After that, he kneels down and whispers so softly in her ear that the site’s audience cannot hear him. “If you try anything, your identity is forfeit. Instantly. And your death will not be quick. And your friend Trevor will also die horribly. Now nod again, bitch, to show me you will behave like the slut you are proving to be.”

Wonder Woman reluctantly nods her head forward again in two strong movements. She had been seriously considering biting this man’s dick off. But, as ever, he is a step ahead of her. Seeing her head nod firmly in the affirmative, Pascal pulls the sopping wet ball out of her mouth and tosses it off to the side with the cavalier act of a man in total control of the situation.

“Well, my friends. It appears that the Champion of All Women will be sucking my cock, YET AGAIN TODAY!”

“I want to have this guy’s babies!” Roger shouts out, his fist pumping the air. The threesome in the bookstore just shake their heads sadly and throw magazines at him.

“Good god! Where the hell are those damn cops. I could have driven to that guy’s place by now. I should have...” Steve throws his hands up in the air, his eyes filled with pain at how his adored heroine is being treated.

“No, Steve, Abato was right. We had to keep tabs here and confirm it was Pascal.”

“We didn’t! We didn’t do anything. We’ve failed Wonder Woman!”

“The police are probably working their way to her right now, Steve. We just have to be patient a little longer,” Etta says, standing behind her crestfallen superior officer, squeezing his shoulder and kneading it gently. “Things may still end up okay. It’s...it’s just...just...a..a..bj..it’s not...not...that big a deal.”

“I’d like to put a bullet in that guy,” Steve fumes, watching the screen as Pascal drops his pants.

“Maybe the police will,” Etta says encouragingly. “Maybe it will go down that way.”

“Not before Wonder Woman goes down on him,” Steve nods at the screen. The famous Amazonian Princess hangs loosely within the harness of blue plastic, her head thrown back and her neck arched. She opens her mouth wide as Pascal takes one step forward, waving his dick in the face of the world’s once-famous role model for chastity and virtue.


End of Part 38

[DrDominator9]

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 39

Sal has just stopped in the hallway between the living room and dining room. Jimmy is coming around from the kitchen toward him when the hairs on Sal’s arms begin to tingle. He looks down at the small beige area rug on which he stands. It’s intertwining black pattern reminds him of snakes. Without another second’s hesitation, Sal throws his body to the left just as a huge flash of electricity surges across the tiny rug. Landing hard on his side and sliding across the marble tile, Sal comes to a sudden stop against a wall. His eyes widen at the scorch marks at the edge of the carpet and then meet Jimmy’s who’s shaking his head slowly.

“This guy’s a laugh a minute,” the Irish cop says, walking over to extend his hand to help Sal to his feet.

“I’m sure Wonder Woman feels the same way,” Sal answers coldly as he leans down to pick up his dropped revolver. The two men slowly continue their search, grim-faced and wary.

* * *

Wonder Woman is dizzy with pleasure even as she is bereft of hope and filled with fear at the possibility that Steve’s life might be in danger. For her own identity, she might not have agreed to this oral humiliation, things were that far gone, but if Major Trevor was at risk....well, yet again Pascal had outflanked her. His fat penis waves before her, it’s purplish mushroom head bobbing in the light from the overhead fluorescent. Diana opens her mouth and Pascal steps forward calmly and confidently, sliding his dick over the surface of her tongue like it was an every day occurrence. Wonder Woman closes her lips around the warm shaft and begins to suckle her enemy’s penis.

Even though she is aware that her actions are inappropriate, the famous heroine is still dazed and over-excited on by the two plastic rods vibrating in her most sensitive holes. Worked up to a lather of horniness, Wonder Woman sucks in her cheeks and actually savors the taste and feel of a wide warm shaft filling her mouth.

“....mmmmmhhhhh.......ghoood...” Unaware she’s even doing it, Wonder Woman moans deeply as she exults in the sensation of a man’s warm pulsing shaft in her mouth. Eating pussy was fantastic but nothing compared to the feel of a cock engulfed by her mouth, the fleshy head tickling the back of her throat.

Even without Pascal’s hands on her head, the highly-aroused beauty, with her head thrown back, opens her throat and thrusts her face forward to swallow the cock deeper, forcing its head into the back of her throat. She flutters her lips against his skin while her tongue swishes away against the top surface of his shaft. She lets out another moan of pleasure and it’s obvious to anybody watching that Wonder Woman is enjoying herself. When she begins to draw her head back and forth, taking the length of Pascal’s cock to the hilt again and again, it is the Frenchman’s turn to moan aloud.

“Now there’s a fox who really enjoys giving head,” Jamal says with admiration. “And she’s no stranger to it either. Even hanging like that with her head upside down, that lady has skills.”

“She sure ain’t no virgin, that’s for sure,” Jake adds.

“This bitch?” Gary says, “she could suck a quarter out of a plush carpet and give you change back on the tip of her tongue. Paragon of virtue? Don’t make me laugh! Look at that slut suck, people. The only Wonder about that Woman is that she’s not turning tricks every night. She sure looks perfect for the part.”

“I haven’t seen that much head movement since last Halloween’s apple bobbin’ contest at O’Dooley’s Bar,” Roger states. “Or was it in Dooley’s back room and that bar maid Janet? Either way, that princess there can felate with the best of ‘em.”

The suit continues to tease her clit while the two dildos buzz within Wonder Woman’s holes with a constant attack on her body and brain. Lost in a fever of delight, the mighty warrior can only suckle and lick and bob her head in complete abandon to her basest urges. With a passion, she then begins to deep-throat Pascal with the clear intent of enjoying herself while bringing him off.

“...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...”

Etta’s mouth goes dry as she watches the disappearing act that Pascal’s cock is continually doing in Wonder Woman’s face. Steve’s eyes are like saucers and he feels like a tea kettle about ready to scream out it’s whistle.

Standing over the beauty with the bobbing head, the Frenchman wavers in place, his hands holding onto the blue plastic straps as Wonder Woman leans her head a bit further back, arches her neck and gobbles his cock with relentless precision, her neck flexing and her head jerking back and forth with nothing but her satisfaction in mind.

“...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...”

“NO! No, you bitch! NOT YET!. Not this way!”

Pascal pulls his spit-shined dick out of Wonder Woman’s gaping mouth with a yank and steps back two paces. While his prick swings flagrantly before the camera, the scientist regains his control and quickly draws his cell phone out of this pocket. He taps a series of keys on the face of the phone and the naked, rubber-clad beauty arches her back in a sudden helpless paroxysm of pure joy. Pascal puts away his junk for now.

“We are doing this my way, you horny slut! I have planned too carefully to have you ruin my end game. It is you who will cum now, hero. Not me.”

The suit has gone into overdrive. All stimulation pads are sequencing in a devastating array of pleasure flows that circulate all over and around Wonder Woman’s body. They circle her tits, stimulate her nipples, flow down her back and run up her legs. And it all comes to a focus in one of the heroine’s two holes. Her pussy and her ass. Pascal steps forward again and comes to Wonder Woman’s side, kneeling down beside her. His hands grip both dildos and he begins to rapidly thrust and pull the vibrating rods in and out of her squishy holes. He does it over and over and the rubber clad heroine shouts out in helpless pleasure.

“Hera! No...I....can’t...help...Th...this...is too....too....”

“Yes, Wonder Woman. It is too much for you to withstand. Far too much. Feel the rods filling your snatch. Packing that ass. Over and over with no way to resist, no where to run, no place to hide. Behind that blindfold you will go blind with ecstasy my dear. And you will do it now.”

“...i...can’t...no...it’s...not...not....fair...not..right...not ri...OH....NO! ...nuh..nuh..”

The dildos saw away within her holes. The suit makes her aware of every nerve fiber in her body. Wonder Woman cannot begin to hold out a second longer.

“Now hero. Cum now!”

“...nuh...NUH....NUUUUUUGGGHHHHNNNNNN!!!!!!”

Wonder Woman’s body freezes in mid-arch, her thighs thrown wide apart, her mouth gaping open, her pleasure spraying out from around the dildo buried in her snatch. The world sees her climax. The cameras record it forever: the pelvis thrust upward, the arc of droplets, the tightly rubber clad body gleaming like a statue to pleasure personified.

Seconds after her titanic climax, a grinning Pascal methodically starts up his piston-like actions again with the two dildos still embedded in the drooping beauty.

“...no...stop...it....it’s too....much....”

“Of course it is, my pet. It is meant to be.”

Hanging in weak confusion, Wonder Woman can only flail and sway as Pascal continues to thrust and withdraw the dildos into the defenseless beauty’s holes. The suit’s stim pads concentrate the heroine’s complete attention on her orifices and she can do nothing but succumb.

“...please...no more....no.......mmuh....muuuhh.....MUUUUNNNGGHHHHH!!!”

The second torrent of cum isn’t quite as forceful as the first but a generous flow of it rushes out of from between Wonder Woman’s wildly twitching thighs, surging past the dildo to create a hefty resurgence of Amazon Falls. The slippery essence cascades to the white tile floor, adding significantly to the glimmering lake below.

“Ahh. I knew you had it in you, cherie. Now it is time to rest a bit. Let me take this blindfold off so I can see those pretty blue eyes of yours.” The blindfold comes off in seconds, tossed aside, it’s work done.

Completely exhausted from her two huge climaxes, as well as those two others just 25 minutes previously, Wonder Woman’s baby blue eyes are heavily lidded now. The cameras catch the sunset of her lids as the pupils roll up and the lids fall down. The Amazon beauty is old cold.

“Magnifique! We are nearly there, my pet.”

Pascal begins his pleasant chore of disentangling the unconscious rubber-clad figure from the plastic harness before he will move her over to the tan sweat-stained leather cushion of his superheroine-killing choke table.

Once she’s laid out face down on the white tile floor, Pascal gently withdraws the two vibrators from Wonder Woman’s pussy and her rectum, each one drawing a low subconscious moan from the beautiful heroine as it’s pulled from each tight orifice. The Frenchman smiles as he walks the two sex toys over to the built-in sink at the corner bend of his workbench. Holding them over the drain, he rinses them with running water and wipes them with a nearby rag before replacing them in the utility drawer he’s set aside for sex tools.

Many a lovely virgin had been invaded, clamped, whipped and teased by the variety of tools in the oversized drawer. Even superheroines now were included on the list of experimental subjects he’d worked with using these devices. And all the women from naive college coeds to overconfident defenders of truth and justice had succumbed to his insightful methodologies, his brilliant formulae and his deft touch. There was no one he couldn’t bring to the satisfying conclusion of his experimental regimen. His hypotheses were now facts. His techniques were sound. His results proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. His neural receptor formula was without equal. He was, without any doubt, Nobel material. All that was left was the presentation ceremony in Stockholm.

That bitch Destiny had destroyed so much of his work but with Wonder Woman out of the way at last, the Frenchman reflects, by tomorrow he could begin the task of recreating his research notes so he could submit his thesis to the Nobel committee as soon as possible.


* * *

Not having found any means to get into the basement they know is there from the dark windows they peered through when outside the house, Sal and Jimmy have been forced to check upstairs for any access. In the sparse bedroom on the second floor, they stand before the elevator doors, musing about what to do. Pushing the call button hasn’t worked. The two detectives look at each other and grimace.

“We’re going to have to pry these doors open manually,” Sal says.

“It’s the only way I can see to get down to the basement,” Jimmy concurs. “I know there’s some kind of secret entrance but for the life of me, I can’t find it.”

“Sure wish we could. I don’t like the idea of shimmying down a cable in the dark.”

“Oh, it won’t be dark. I’ll leave my pen light on and clip it to my belt.”

“What a pal. Get that other door and pull, let’s see if we can get these damn things apart,” Sal says, grabbing the thin rubber seal between the two doors.

“On three,” Jimmy says, gripping the door edge from his side. “One...two...three!”

Grunting and straining the two men slowly pull open the elevator doors, inch by inch until they’re about two feet apart. Peering down into the darkness, Sal asks Jimmy to turn on his penlight and the detectives stare down the empty shaft. The roof of the elevator cab reflects some light but it’s hard to see.

“How long is that drop you think?”

Jimmy calculates and replies, “About 30 feet or so, I’d say.”

“A fall from there might kill us,” Sal suggests.

“Only one way to find out. Wonder Woman’s waiting. Come on.”

“For a guy who didn’t want to get killed rushing into things a while back, you’re awfully eager.”

“It’s no worse than climbing the rope in high school gym class,” Jimmy says, grabbing one of the cables.”

“I don’t know about your school but they didn’t grease the ropes in ours,” Sal says, reluctantly reaching for the cable as Jimmy descends into the darkness below.

“That’s ‘cause you went to a high school for pussies.”

Sal just grimaces as he grips the slick cable with tight white knuckles and follows Jimmy down into the blackness. He doesn’t even insult his partner for forgetting to let him go first so his flashlight could shine down on Sal’s progress. He just makes his way carefully down the cable, his hands and legs wrapped around the thick steel line with a death grip.

* * *

Wonder Woman’s arms dangle loosely, swaying gently back and forth as Pascal cradles her in his arms and carries her over to his table. His hands support her mid-back and behind her knees but her head hangs back, neck arched with her mouth gaping open. Her eyelids remain closed with her chest thrust upward. Her excited nipples still stretch out the clear rubber encasing them. Her ample ass hangs low as Pascal makes his way over to the table. He rests her cheeks down on the thin leather mat covering the table and gently lowers the rest of her limp body onto it. Her arms drop off the edge of the table, her hands just over a foot off the tile floor. Wonder Woman’s feet flop apart, the rubber-sealed toes pointed in opposite directions. The famous heroine is still out cold. The slick film from the Amazon’s massive climax rubs off from the slick rubber encasing her ass onto the stained leather, marking it anew with the essence of a heroine’s defeat.

Moving deftly but gently so as not to awaken the heroine before he’s ready, Pascal cautiously snaps separate sets of handcuffs hanging off the corners at the head of the table around Wonder Woman’s wrists, first the left and then walking around the table to do the right. Both arms still hang down with the heroine’s palms facing the table legs.

Pascal then lifts up the beauty’s legs and pulls them up and over so her ankles are situated next to her ears. He fits the third pair of cuffs around her left ankle and finally the fourth pair around her right, clicking them softly shut in turn one after the other. This awkward position has Wonder Woman moaning, the disturbance causing her to struggle through to consciousness. Working quickly now, Pascal unhooks one end of the molybdenum chain and lays the glistening metal rope over the exposed neck of the stirring heroine before he hurriedly reaches over and connects it to a hook on the opposite side of the table. Everything is now set and Pascal roughly pats the disoriented woman’s cheek three times, declaring, “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Rest time is over.”

“...uuuughhhh....ohhh.....whuh...?....what....?...”

“Your big moment has arrived, cherie. Time for the final phase of the experiment.”

“...experiment...?...” Wonder Woman tries to focus her thoughts but she’s exhausted. “...wh...what experiment...?”

“The experiment I have been conducting on you since you arrived here late this morning, my dear. The experiment that proves even the mighty Wonder Woman can be reduced to a helpless, mental pygmy by my neural suppression solutions, both chemical and electrical; and that with a proactive approach to reducing your remarkable physical abilities via coordinated resistance procedures, you can ultimately be restrained and dominated to lower than human levels of energy.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Gary says. “I thought he just liked fucking superheroines.”

“Oh no. Steve, the police, they’re not there yet!” Etta grips his shoulder tightly and stares at the screen in shock. Wonder Woman is shackled to the table wearing nothing but a rubber catsuit with all her feminine aspects on display. Who would have ever imagined such a sight would be feasible?

“There’s still time. There has to be.” Steve’s face is like carved wood. His eyes are locked on the woman of his dreams about to be violated yet again by another man: a woman he had yearned to ravage for years but suppressed. The emotions swirling through the IADC major are confused and nasty and frightening. He is aghast at his envy, frustrated and angry at the banquet of feminine charms presented before him that he cannot reach, cannot have, cannot save. He wipes his sweaty palms on the arms of his chair.

“...you...will pay...fhur this.....pascal...” slurs the captive beauty as she angrily pulls up her arms until they’re jerked to a stop by the handcuffs behind her head. She flexes her thighs and tries to kick out from the leg cuffs but she remains held firmly in place, her incredible body pinned to the table and sealed in clear rubber. Both her orifices are boldly exposed, the two seals dangling open, cool air brushing across her labia and her rectum. With one last monumental jerk of her arms and legs, Wonder Woman moves to snap the cuffs with a final, supreme superhuman effort of her legendary Amazon muscles.

But there is no superhuman ability left in the famous heroine.

Pascal has made sure of that. Absolutely sure. He glances down at the resistance meters attached to the ends of the four sets of handcuffs and smiles. There isn’t even enough energy to qualify for a normal human effort for a woman of her size and weight. The numbers register the physical strength of a seven year old child.

“The time for all that bluster is over, Wonder Woman. I am going to conclude my experiment whether you approve or not. I have meticulously arranged everything so you have no ability to stop me, cherie.” Pascal unzips his fly as he stands by the table looking down at the heroine he’s secured like a turtle on it’s back.

“...the police...” Wonder Woman declares, her voice desperate with urgency..

“...will be dealt with,” Pascal cuts her off. “If they even show up. Now stop playing hard to get, cherie. We both know you love the feel of a man’s cock filling your ass. I am just giving you what you desire.”

Bending down, he pulls a mechanism under the table and the leaf drops down, giving the Frenchman the ability to walk right up to Wonder Woman’s rear. He does so, with his cock in hand, it’s length growing, the shaft stiffening as the man anticipates the pleasure he’s about to receive.

“...that’s not...true...”

“Please, my dear, lying does not do justice to the heroine you are supposed to be. The world has seen you scream with pleasure when I sodomized you before. They all know the truth. Accept the fact, hero, that the planet now knows that Wonder Woman truly loves taking it up the ass. You also just proved beyond any doubt that you adore giving out blowjobs. And earlier, you came like a fire hose with my dick in your cunt. Unless I am mistaken, that covers all the major orifices, whore. Now it is simply a matter of degree. Shall we see if you enjoy the fine art of asphyxiation, champ?”

“...no...don’t...please....don’t..! You...you p...proved everything....all you set out... to prove,” Wonder Woman’s voice is unnaturally high as she protests. She doesn’t fight her need to beg, to stall, to play for time but she hates herself for having to do it in front of the cameras. In fact though, the fear is making her sweat more than the hot fluorescent fixture suspended over her head. “Listen, Dr. Pascal. You’re right.. I....I...admit it. I d...d..do...like sex. I’m like any healthy woman. I enjoy g..giving...oral sex...”

“Blow jobs. Call them what they are, slut. Do not try to fancy up the wording. Say it.”

“...blow jobs..” Wonder Woman whispers. “I enjoy giving blow jobs.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, lady,” Roger calls out to the tv and Jamal breaks into a huge grin at this, fist pounding the businessman in the process.

“And you love taking cock up the ass,” prompts Pascal, looking down expectantly at the woman bound with her genitals on full display. “Say it.”

“...y..yes...ilovetakingcockuptheass.”

“Oh no, Princess. Much slower. Much louder.”

Wonder Woman announces it to the world through gritted teeth. “I LOVE TAKING COCK UP THE ASS.”

Steve drops his head in his hands. Etta pulls up a second chair and drops heavily into it, her face flushed, her head shaking in disbelief.

The group in the bookstore erupts in cheers and another round of high fives.

“Excellent. That is exactly what everyone wanted the Champion of All Woman to finally admit. My work is almost done here.”

“Look, Pascal. You’ve won. Let me give you that...” the heroine hesitates for a second “...blow job. I’ll be the way you want the world to see me and you get to enj ..AAUUWLGGK!”

The thin metal chain around Wonder Woman’s neck draws tight with a sudden jerk that chokes off her air and cuts her voice to a harsh squawk.

“Hush, my pet. I will take exactly what I want from you and it is certainly not a blow job. Just relax now and let the experience engulf you,” Pascal soothes. He smooths away a loose tangle of hair from her forehead with one hand as his other guides his hard cock through the hole in the rubber catsuit and against the tightly clenched opening of Wonder Woman’s rear.

“Nuh! Pleez,” rasps out the choking champion, her eyes wide, “No....need...fuh thizz..” The chain makes it nearly impossible for Wonder Woman to speak.

“Of course there is, my sweet, now unclench that sphincter like a good girl. It won’t hurt as much that way.”

“Nnuuhh! Noohh.” Defiant now, the Amazon struggles and strains against the chains holding her to the table. She jerks and bucks like a cornered wildcat.

“Calm yourself, champ. Remember what is at stake here, yes?”

“Fugk yooh!” The wheezing woman almost spits when the words leave her mouth.

She’d been a fool. There was no depth of humiliation this prick would not subject her to. Hers would not be a death with dignity. She should have known it all along. Steve had abandoned her. The police had never arrived. She was on her own and had given up every advantage she might have had. Every escape possibility had been pissed away through a misplaced sense of honor and a warped concept of courage. Diana is furious at herself and the world. She funnels all her hate, all her rage into her muscles and strains her mighty legs against the thin steel of the cuffs holding her ankles beside her head. Everything she is and everything she has ever been she puts into the effort. Her calf muscles rise and ripple like steel bridge cables in a high wind. Her red face is a mask of concentration. Her will is focused on straining the links in the steel cuffs to their limit, to snapping them like stale pretzels. Wonder Woman strives with everything in her being to be the very symbol of the Olympian gods on earth!

She can’t do it!

The day’s toll has been too great. The fights, the wounds, the constant sexual attacks, her own orgasms have all stripped her of the power she needs to break free. And the choking chain around her neck retracts by another crucial link pressing deeply into the skin of her throat.

“EHHHHGHHKKKK!”

“It seems we are doing this the hard way,” Pascal says, his left hand no longer gently caressing her forehead but now holding a clump of Wonder Woman’s hair in a clenched fist. “Just as well. I prefer it that way.” The eyes of the scientist are not cold and calculating but gleaming with lust.

His right hand ensures the tip of his dick is centered exactly on the balloon knot buried in his writhing captive’s ass-crack. He thrusts himself forward and the sweat and cum that is smeared over the Champion of All Women’s rectum makes it easy for the cold-hearted Frenchman to impale himself deep into the female’s ass. Her clenching sphincter is no challenge at all to his hard rod.

“UUNNFF!”

“Honey. I’m home.”

Her arms pull, the cuffs’ links jangle and Wonder Woman wheezes desperately through a severely constricted throat as Pascal pulls and pushes his shaft within the Amazon’s ass. He savors the heat and wonderfully tight friction of her rear passage gripping his steely length. After several times of driving deeply into her core and pulling out, the slow pace Pascal has set speeds up; much faster than planned. Her body is too enticing to bear, her helplessness too heady to ignore, her wheezing hot breath and wild eyes too invigorating to withstand.

He lets go of her hair and with his dick firmly plunging into and withdrawing from her rear, the besotted Frenchman clutches at Wonder Woman’s tits with both hands, fondling them with pure delight. The massive breasts heave and give. Within their rubber casing, their shapes mold and shift within his grasp even as the mighty Amazon warrior’s chest rises and falls in hard, heavy pants for breath that will not come.

“Try not to panic, cherie. It shortens the amount of time you have left. And it reduces the full pleasure I derive!”

“....bhaasturd...” the quaking, jerking heroine rasps.

“Oh my god, Steve. What do we do? That chain is choking her to death. Look at her face. Her eyes!”

Wonder Woman’s tongue falls out of her mouth and her eyes bulge fiercely as her throat is completely constricted by the molybdenum chain retracting one link every twenty seconds. Her arms and legs quake with tension as they strain helplessly against the steel cuffs holding her down on the table. Sweat drains out of the pussy hole and runs in tiny wandering streams down her pelvis and onto the stained leather mat that has been a silent partner in the death of dozens.

“AAAAGGGKKK!”

“Are you feeling pleasure from my penis, Wonder Woman? Or are you too absorbed by the reality of your impending death to enjoy yourself?”

“....hehhhlp.....hera....heppppp...”

“Your goddess cannot assist you here. Not now. Your days are over, Amazon. You are my prize, my conquest.”

Wonder Woman’s vision begins to darken, the world contracting around her to just Pascal’s face leering down on her. His body weight presses upon her, his lust possessing him as he begins to saw frantically at her rear now, letting himself lose his control. The end is
very near for her and his climax is building wonderfully. He is minutes away. It will be a race to see if she breathes her last before he cums or if he can time it to her precise moment of expiration: his ultimate fantasy and purest goal.

“You see now how futile it has all been for you, Wonder Woman, don’t you. I have mastered you completely. There is nothing left for you to do but...

“Don’t move a muscle, Pascal. Not any muscle!” Sal Abato’s deep voice rumbles in the Frenchman’s ear even as the muzzle of his gun presses to his temple.

“Detective, what horrible timing you have.”

“Not from my perspective, Frenchy. Now pull out of the lady or I blow your brains out.”

“OH GOD! THEY MADE IT! Etta screams her relief. “THEY FINALLY MADE IT! SHE’S SAVED!” Steve lets out the breath he’d been holding for minutes and begins to shake like a leaf.

“Wow, just in the prick of time,” Roger says at this sudden development.

Pascal immediately yanks his dick out of Wonder Woman’s ass and Jimmy shoves him aside. The tall bearded villain gets his legs tangled up in his pants dropped around his legs and he trips to the hard tile floor.

Meanwhile, Sal is trying to remove the chain from the hooks attached to the sides of the table but they’re now pulled way too tight and constricting at the same steady rate of one link every twenty seconds.

“How do I stop this choker, you prick?” Abato waves the gun at Pascal with cold menace.

“You cannot,” Pascal answers, pulling up his pants as he gets to his feet, every movement covered by Jimmy’s gun pointed directly at this chest. “It is set to automatic until it reaches a point where the link count ensures death.”

“Must be a fail safe. You’re seconds from eating a bullet, pal,” Abato declares.

“Shoot me, she still dies, copper,” Pascal says with an ironic grin. Jimmy moves to club him with his gun but Sal shouts, “Don’t. We need him.”

The gasping bug-eyed Champion of All Woman has stopped jerking on the table. Her tongue hangs limply to the side, her face is a deep purple. She is staring dully at nothing. From the crotch hole in the rubber suit a sudden splashing flow of urine erupts through the tiny opening, spraying outward onto the thighs of the heroine before draining down to the floor. The accompanying wheeze sounds very final.

“Fuck this!” Sal steps to the side of the table, carefully measures his aim and shoots the hook mechanism that pulls the choke chain. The gunshot reverberates through the room like a cannon and the molybdenum choker springs apart at the end, the long chain whipsawing off of Wonder Woman’s throat. It slaps loudly against the opposite side of the table and then recoils back across her throat with a stinging snap. This leaves a secondary red ring that begins to ooze blood. The wound will leave a noticeable scar. But slowly, the purple face begins to fade to a natural flesh tone and Wonder Woman begins to hack and cough and tear up. Sal steps forward to the table to try to comfort her while Jimmy waves his gun at Pascal.

“Give me the keys to the cuffs, Pascal. Slowly. Make a move I think is suspicious and I will shoot you in the heart. Just so we’re clear.”

“We are clear, Detective. The key is on a key ring in my pants pocket. May I get it or do you want to go fishing?”

Wonder Woman’s coughing slows down and her wheezing calms considerably as she regains some measure of oxygen and her terror abates. Sal swallows hard as he stands by this naked goddess clad only in clear rubber with all her assets pointed at him, including those huge breasts. He has to physically force himself to look the heroine in the eyes as he bends over her and smooths the sweaty hair away from her face. Those haughtily defiant blue eyes he’d seen at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum were nowhere to be seen. God, had that been just this morning? It seemed impossible. Anyway, those eyes were gone. These eyes were hesitant, completely devoid of confidence and filled with fear.

“Jimmy’s getting the keys so we can get you off this table and decent. In fact...” Sal puts his gun in his pocket, strips off his shoulder holster and lets it drop to the floor, then unbuttons his shirt. He strips it off quickly and lays it between Wonder Woman’s thighs, covering up her crotch with the dark blue cotton fabric.

“Boooo!” Gary calls out. But in a way, he’s glad the cops are there. Things were getting so much farther out of hand than he ever expected. The creep really was going to kill off Wonder Woman. Snuff porn was not his thing. A woman might be a fun sex object; hell, half of them got off on it anyway, but when you started taking lives for real, that was beyond sick.

“Very slowly, Jimmy commands. “Turn both your pockets out. I don’t care what falls on the floor. Stay standing straight up and take two steps back after emptying your pockets.”

“Of course, Jimmy. I wouldn’t want any accidents,” Pascal says following the Irishman’s orders. “You wouldn’t want to shoot a prisoner in cold blood on a nationwide broadcast, I’m sure.” A key ring falls to the floor, some change and a cell phone.

“Make him turn off the cameras,” Wonder Woman cries out, her voice catching in a sob. “Make him do it now!”

“Oh, it is much too late for that, Princess,” the bearded scientist replies spitefully. “The world has seen you in action today. Everyone knows all about you and your heroic sex drive now!”

“Shut your trap, Pascal!” Sal yells, but the Frenchman continues his tirade.

“They have seen your naked body in every conceivable position. They have watched you suck me and fuck me. You have no secrets anymore, Miss Pr...Uuughhnn!” Jimmy knocks the barrel of his gun against the side of Pascal’s head, rendering him speechless and dazed.

“That’s enough out of you, dirtbag.” Jimmy gives Sal a nervous glance while Pascal wavers stupidly in place, trying to collect himself. Jimmy steps forward and pushes the swooning scientist back two steps until he’s against the wall, his palms behind him pressed against it to keep himself upright. “One more word out of you and you’ll be taking your meals through a straw.” Jimmy presses the muzzle of his gun against Pascal’s front teeth.

“...uuuughhhh....p’lice brut..ality....” he murmurs thickly, the gun and his dizziness making him difficult to understand..

“Take it up with the judge, scum,” Sal says. “Jimmy, toss me those keys.”

A minute later, Wonder Woman, none too steady on her feet either is ushered by Sal over to an opposite wall from Pascal. Her posture is slumped, her head down, one hand is crossed across her chest, the other splays her fingers over her privates.

She whispers softly to Sal. “The cameras. Please, Sal. Make them stop. Please.” The mighty heroine is close to tears, badly shaken with nervous, darting eyes.

“Okay, Pascal, your little peep show is over, asshole,” Sal declares. “Time to turn off the cameras. Right now! Where’s the switch or control room or whatever?”

“On the floor there Detective Abato. I hope you didn’t make me break it.”

“Your cell phone? You’re doing all this through your phone?”

“I have two PhDs, detective, in chemistry and applied electrical theory. I can write an app,” Pascal smugly casts his eyes over at the now bare-chested Italian cop and then he blanches. “Merde! Do they not make you maintain some level of physical standard, Abato? I have ground rats up in a blender but that view there is making me ill.”

“Jimmy, clock him again, would you?” Abato growls at his partner.

“Nope. Like you said, we need him,” Jimmy replies. He covers Pascal carefully with his gun and walks over to pick up the cell phone. He quickly eyes the screen. It’s dark but not cracked. “Stop the show, Pascal.” He hands the cell phone to the Frenchman who slides his finger across the screen and taps a few keys.

Sal has his own cell phone out and is calling Carla in Dispatch. “Hey, Carla. It’s Sal, let me know...”

“I see you on the screen here, Sal. Thank goodness you got there when you did.”

“Let me know that this prick is true to his word and that the site’s shut down, Carla, would you?”

“There,”Pascal says. “It will shut down in five minutes, detective.”

“That’s too long,” Sal frowns. “Make it faster.”

“As you wish, Sal.” The Frenchman taps more keys.

“NO! DON’T LET HIM TOUCH....” Wonder Woman screams out hoarsely, suddenly cognizant of the danger. But its too late. The air is suddenly filled with clouds of eye-stinging, throat-clogging tear gas. The Frenchman drops to his belly and crawls like the world’s fastest baby to a box tucked under the workbench six feet away. He opens it and dons a tiny gas mask then stands up and dashes past a gasping waving Jimmy Glendennan. He gives the Irish cop a hard push that drives the redhead to the floor. Yanking open the steel door, Pascal dashes out of the lab, taking the stairs two at a time to the first floor.

“SHIT!” Sal hacks out the coughing expletive. “Jimmy, are you okay? Can you go after him? Wonder Woman’s in no shape to be left here.”

“I’m on it, Sal,” the teary-eyed partner affirms, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve as he rushes through the door to follow the fleeing Frenchman.

“Come on, Diana, let’s get you out of this room. The storeroom we came through on the way in should have clear breathable air. I hope.” He takes the heroine’s hand and pulls her through the thick clouds enveloping the lab. Groping his way to the door, he yanks it open and the pair stumble awkwardly into the storeroom shutting the door behind them. Gasping and wheezing, their eyes burning, the Italian cop and the naked, rubber-encased Wonder Woman are both bent over for a good two minutes before they get the noxious fumes coughed out and their reddened eyes begin to stop smarting so badly.

Abato is still bent over coughing up the remnants of the debilitating gas when Wonder Woman suddenly straightens up like she’d been poked. Her eyes go wide even as her breasts shake and jiggle within the confining catsuit.

“You called me Diana!”

“Huh? What? Oh, uh yeah...about that,” Abato replies, straightening up and looking into the shocked face of the Champion of All Woman, “I kind of know who you are.”

“Hera, what next? What have I done to deserve this day?”

The distraught heroine breaks down in a choking sob and collapses forward into Abato’s arms, the warmth of her skin glows through the rubber suit as she presses against his bare chest. Helplessly, Sal surrounds the weeping beauty with his arms and holds her tight. He’s hard as a steel pipe and looks at the ceiling in dismay.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

End of Part 39

[flagonforge]

just finished reading this - was an awesome story!

[DrDominator9]

This is not the last chapter. Unless you mean you finished it over at the other site?

[Zeta Clark]

This story causes a whirlwind of emotions for me.

It's very well executed and extremely tantalizing.

[DrDominator9]

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 40

“What the hell are we supposed to do now,” grumbles Gary as he frowns at the wall-mounted television currently displaying the now familiar home screen of WW_Screwed.com showing the many purchase options of sex scene photos available. “The place fills up with what looks like a gas grenade, the camera shows us a set of stairs that's being climbed and then this Frenchman says ‘Sorry for this sudden break. I will be back if I can’ and now we've got these damn photo sets to choose from. I'm not buying any more of these. Think I should change to regular tv and see what's on?”

“What if he comes back,” Jake says, worried, “and we miss a piece of internet history like uhhm..uhhh...”

“...like what,” Jamal replies. “Like Wonder Woman getting fucked or giving a blow job or taking it up her ass? Or getting choked to death? We've seen almost everything this guy is gonna do. He’s probably busy saving his own ass. I don’t think he’s comin’ back. I think the show's over.”

“I’m not so sure about that,”Gary muses, “but I bet I’ve got at least a few minutes to check and see if this is making news on any of the networks.”

“I concur,” Roger chimes in. “See if anybody’s covering this on the national media.”

“Wait!” Jake blurts out, “don’t you have picture in picture or something? So we can see at the same time if Frenchy comes back on?”

“I would if this were on cable or broadcast,” Gary grumbles, “but this is the Internet and they don’t, oh hey, wait. I’ll open another tab and go to the D.C. station’s streaming newscast. Good call, Jake. Pick out a free magazine.”

“Fuck that,”Jake shakes his head. “I’ll take that photo set of Wonder Tits getting dick between her melons.”

“In your dreams, dickwad,” Gary says, opening the tab to the capital city’s CBS affiliate.

The picture comes up of a talking anchorman with an incredible head of wavy white hair and a tan so deep and perfect you could only get it by living either in the Caribbean or under a sun lamp for five hours a day. He is wrapping up his story. “And that’s all we have right now. More information about this developing story of Wonder Woman’s fight for her life on our regular eleven o’clock Action News. I’m Bryce Camden and I’ll be joining John Nancy, Heather Wells, and Craig Butler to give you the full low-down at the top of the hour. Right now we return you to the conclusion of our Sunday Night Movie; ‘Heidi.’”

“Oh, Fuck that!” Gary scowls and logs on to another station’s website but get’s nothing there. Apparently, everybody is finishing up their normal programming, undoubtedly scrambling like maniacs to get the story ready for their newscasts coming up in just 40 minutes. Finally, he turns to the CNN webcast. It shows an attractive middle-aged black woman at her news anchor desk with the picture of the WW_Screwed homepage on a green screen behind her. The lewd pictures of the Wonder Woman photosets are all pixilated making the visual disturbing and hard to look at. Even the woman at the desk seems uncomfortable but that could be the sexual explicitness of the story she’s been describing.

“...ocal police are not offering any explanation at this time of where this attack on the famous Amazon is taking place, and events are unfolding even as we speak with two police detectives from the District of Columbia on the scene now. For the moment, the perpetrator seems to have fled the room where Wonder Woman was being restrained and sexually assaulted. More on this story as soon as we know more.”

“Well, gents, I guess we just cool our heels until something happens. Anyone leaving? I really should have closed up an hour ago,” Gary says. “It’s past 10 on a Sunday night for crissake. I got a life you know.”

“That’s bullshit,” Roger answers. “We all know for a fact you have no life!”

“Fine, stay,” Gary replies, glumly acknowledging the point. But for legal purposes he goes over to the front door and flips around the dangling plastic sign from open to closed.

* * *

Detective Sal Abato holds onto the incredibly shapely figure of Wonder Woman. Her naked body, heavily slouched, remains wrapped in a clear, skin-tight rubber catsuit as she sobs heavily, her streaming tears from her bowed head dropping down to wet the hairs of his bare chest. He’s aroused but he’s focused on their perilous situation despite his stiffness.

“Look, Wonder Woman, we need to get you someplace safe until I know that Jimmy has handled Pascal. Let’s see if we can find a place to hide you.”

“You can’t leave me!” The pale skin, strident tone and wild eyes of the Amazon’s upturned horrified face tell the Italian detective that she is teetering on the edge of shock. With all that he imagines she’s been through, it was no surprise. While he hadn’t seen the web broadcast, the sight of the pale bruises and closed wounds told a story. But this beautiful woman’s cowering desperate demeanor told him even more. She’d been put through a wringer that even a superheroine couldn’t handle. That much was clear.

“No, I won’t leave you. I promise,” Sal says softly, looking all around,” but you have to work with me here. Have you been in this room before?”

“..uhh...no...oh...wait....yes...a few times...”

Sal frowns, his head down, musing about what to do when he spots a golden glimmer under a nearby shelf. He bends down to check it out as Wonder Woman grabs onto a different shelf to steady herself. Her physical reserves are almost completely depleted. Her knees quiver as she holds on and mumbles, “...what....are you...doing...”

Sal straightens up, his fist held out gripping Wonder Woman’s golden lasso. It dangles there before her, hanging down in uneven tangled loops.

“...my...my...lasso...how....where did you...get it...?” Her hand tentatively reaches out for it and he carefully hands it over to the dumbstruck beauty.

“It was just lying there on the floor, under that shelf.”

“...the only thing....left....” she mumbles, her eyes welling up.

“We can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous,” Sal declares.”Do you remember any place that we could hide?”

“...errr....uuuhhh....”

Wonder Woman’s muscle memory has her trying to attach her lasso to a belt that no longer exists. It falls to the floor in a heap of shiny coils. Sal frowns at this and bends down to retrieve the lasso once again from the floor.

“Why don’t I keep this for now,” Sal says softly, tucking the lasso into the deep pocket of his pants. He then takes hold of Wonder Woman’s hand and leads the way through the huge storage room, searching for a reasonable place to hunker down. Some place defensible. “Look for any place we won’t be spotted by Pascal.”

“...uhhm...er....behind the shelves...maybe....”

“Well, no, he could see right through most of them.” Sal is distressed; something that obvious and Wonder Woman can’t fathom the issue. She was in very bad shape.

“...under them...” she offers next.

“What? Under them? They’re only eight inches off the floor, we couldn’t... never mind, we’ll find something.”

“He’ll come back,” Wonder Woman moans, holding onto Sal’s hand and stumbling behind him in an ungainly fashion. The detective’s head is swiveling urgently as he weighs the poor options he sees. “He’ll kill Jimmy....and come back for me....and probably kill you too....it’s hopeless...” Wonder Woman is bleating, a bead of snot dribbling out of her nostril.

“It’s not hopeless!” Sal stops so abruptly that a dazed Wonder Woman bumps into him. He turns and takes her biceps in his palms, looking her straight in the eyes. “Jimmy’s smart and resourceful. He’ll be fine. And I’m no slouch myself.” Sal declares this firmly, trying to convince himself as much as his companion.

“...thought I was smart.....resourceful...didn’t do me...any good...” Wonder Woman lowers her eyes, her voice small and meek.

“I need you to be strong here, Wonder Woman.” Sal gives her a firm shake and her head falls forward and then arches back, her throat exposed. The wound from the molybdenum chain still shows an angry red. The Amazon warrior brings her head forward slowly, focusing on the man before her.

“..i’m...i’m...not strong, Sal,” she says with a hitch in her voice, her eyes welling up. “I’m just not strong enough.” She buries her head in his neck and weeps. “...not anymore...not ever again....”

“That’s not the Amazon warrior that tore me a new asshole just this morning.”

“...she...doesn’t exist...anymore...” Wonder Woman’s muffled voice comes from her face buried against the detective’s throat. “...that...that...overconfident...cow...is...is..dead...”

“I don’t believe that!” Sal puts both hands on the sides of her head and pushes it away from his body. He looks her in the eyes once again. “That’s that arrogant French prick talking, not you. Come on, let’s keep looking for someplace to...” His eyes suddenly trace down her body, sheathed in rubber and worthy of the wet dreams of emperors and kings. He gulps and swivels his head around looking at the ceiling. There are cameras everywhere he realizes. He doesn’t know if they’re still live and broadcasting this scene to the world but he doesn’t like the odds. “What happened to my shirt?”

“..what...?..” The confused look in the heroine’s eyes tells Sal all he needs to know. She’s barely aware of her nakedness at this stage. She must have dropped the shirt when he helped her off the table. He’d been so concerned about Pascal and Jimmy and everything going on at the time to realize it. But he’s realizing it now.

“You’re naked. You’re showing everything.”

“...yes...I know...but...w..what can I do...they’ve seen it all anyway...doesn’t matter...” The glum Champion of All Woman stands there with her nipples poking against the suit, her pussy and her ass tightly encased in the confines of the Cunt Hugger Xciter catsuit with both access flaps draping open and her pussy and anus exposed to the open air. She just shrugs her shoulders enough to set her tits wobbling. “I don’t...don’t care anymore...really...”

“Well, I do!” Abato quickly unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants. He steps out of them, picks them up and urgently ties the pant legs around Wonder Woman’s waist so her crotch is covered up. Walking around her, the detective sees most of her ass is still quite visible but at least her bald pussy isn’t on display for the world. On the other hand, his boner is tenting his blue plaid boxers quite noticeably.

Wonder Woman sees this and actually blinks a few times. Surprise and appreciation at the size of him battle it out in her fogged mind and her eyes. He sees her expression, looks down and swears.

“Fuck me!”

“...uhhmm...now...?...” she blurts.

“What? Oh, god, no! I meant....Oh, come on,” he growls, taking her hand and rapidly striding forward, hopefully leading the way to safety with his prick pointing the way inside his briefs like a divining rod.

* * *

The website broadcasting the scene of Pascal thrusting away at Wonder Woman’s bouncing and wobbling and swaying ass while secured in chains on the table had been extremely disturbing to both Etta and Steve. And extremely arousing. It was horrible but the truth was that neither of them could deny how horny they felt even though the Champion of All Women was being choked to death and sodomized right before their eyes.

But that magnificent writhing body being so brazenly taken, completely naked except for the shine of that suit on her, it was beyond hot! And when the police broke in and saved her, it was a rush of excitement and passion that neither Steve nor Etta could process, could reason with, could handle.

Etta flung herself at Steve, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him right off his chair. They fell to the office floor in a desperate tangle of searching arms and intertwined legs. Fingers fought for buttons. Zippers were pulled down and got stuck, curses were uttered, fabric was torn. Underwear flew in the air. A bra strap snapped. Genitals were uncovered. Openings were used. Two bodies rocked together to the sounds of moans and grunts. Lips were mashed. Breasts were grabbed, as were balls. As were both sets of asses. Sucking prevailed. Licking too. Ooohs and ahhhs filled the air. So did “not there”, “closer”, “harder”, “left, no your left”, “that’s better”, “more of that”, “Ow! Less of that!” and even a “Hera help me.” Ultimately there were grunts and then silence and then sighs and then more silence. And then a pen rolled off the desk.

* * *

Jimmy is in the first floor hallway just off the utility room with it’s secret door leading up from the lab. His gun is drawn, pointed at the ceiling, and his back is flat against a wall for the second time in almost as many hours. From warehouse to townhouse, the feeling’s the same, nervous energy mixed with anger and fear. He doesn’t expect feral cats this time though. He expects an assault by Pascal or some kind of very nasty spinning multi-bladed whirlygig to be coming at him through the shadows.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” he murmurs. Gritting his teeth, he quickly spins around the corner with his gun pointed in a two-handed crouch, arms straight out. He faces a large dining room with a long ornate cherry dining table and chairs, an impressive crystal chandelier, a matching cherry sideboard and no evil villain; just his silver tea service sitting there mocking him. “Still don’t get paid enough,” he grumbles. He walks through the room toward the front hallway, poking his head around the corner to see an empty hallway and stairs leading to the second floor. The carpet is plush enough to just make out a footprint springing up to disappear into an expanse of soft gray. Jimmy follows the track, cautiously making his way up with the carpet absorbing every silent footstep.

* * *

It’s been four minutes of winding their way through 8-foot high shelving units and still Sal hasn’t discovered anything in the large storage area that he considers an appropriate hiding place. The walk-in freezer he ultimately rejected as a possible death trap with both the temperature control unit and the locking handle on the outside of the freezer.

He’d considered risking getting Wonder Woman out via the elevator but that too could turn into a death trap in mere seconds. The only other means of escape would be to go back through Pascal’s lab and with the stumbling, mumbling heroine dragging more and more in her efforts to keep up behind him, Sal thinks the stress, the fear and horror might send the poor beauty over the edge of sanity forever. He didn’t want to be the one who put Wonder Woman in the nuthouse.

Sal finally gives up and decides to just hunker down in a corner farthest from the lab and keep his gun handy and his wits about him. He takes the softly mewling heroine back to the freezer and then proceeds to walk off the steps to the opposite wall twenty five feet away. Just as he gets halfway, he notices a small gap between the shelving units. There’s a seam in the wall, a door-shaped seam. Sal feels around the edges of the seam but it is too tight, too well inset.

“Do you know what this is? Did he take you over to this before?”

“..huhh..?... oh..uh...no...no...I don’t remember this....” Wonder Woman leans against the corner of the shelf unit and the wall, propped up with her head nodding. She’s on the edge of collapse, her reserves shot.

Sal looks at her with complete frustration. He’s wasting time and he had accomplished nothing, nothing except bringing a super heroine to the brink of collapse.

“Dammit!” He bangs at the wall with the flat of his fist and there’s a loud double click and the door set into the seams pops open. His eyes light up and Wonder Woman’s face goes from slack to surprised.

“..huhh...lookit...that...”

“Stand there, I’m going to check this out,” Sal says, palm up in a stay position but Wonder Woman shakes her head.

“No! I’m coming....you’re...not going to...leave me.”

“It’s just...oh fine, just wait one second though.” Sal reaches his arm through the gap and slides it up and down against the wall. He finds a light switch and turns it on. Together the two of them go through the opening with extreme caution.

* * *

At the top of the grand staircase, Jimmy looks to both sides. On his left is a room with a door open, and on the right is one with a door closed. They are equidistant. He frowns. “Hmm. The lady or the tiger,” he murmurs. Making a quick decision, he walks the fifteen feet to his left with long strides, right to the open door. On the way, he notes the camera overhead and gives it the finger just in case it’s still on.

Yet again, he gets in a set position with his gun pointed up, takes a breath and rushes the room, going low in a running crouch. Eight feet later he’s turned with his back against a desk with his gun pointed behind the door. There’s nothing there but the frame of a broken mirror and shards of glass all around. He’d even crunched one large triangle into a platter of silver cornflakes. Jimmy exhales. No lady, no tiger, no luck. He looks through the open door to the closed one at the far end of the hall thirty feet away.

“No rest for the weary,” he says, walking out of the study and crossing the wide, light green carpet with a number of stains in it, including a burn mark. Jimmy grimaces. Nasty things had gone on in this house. Things that superheroines who could laugh at guns had succumbed to. He doesn’t feel any better with that thought but moves ahead toward the door with his gun ready nevertheless.

* * *

The room surrounding Sal and the unsteady Wonder Woman is a smaller version of the storeroom on the other side of the inset door except the shelves aren’t laden with equipment and chemicals. Instead, they contain a huge variety of dry goods including boxes of uncooked pasta, dozens of cans of tuna fish, baked beans and vegetables as well as large sacks of rice, gallon jugs of cooking oil and five-liter boxes of both red and white wine. A small refrigerator stands in one corner and at the other corner is a sink and a two-burner hot plate. On the far side of the room a mattress lays directly on the floor covered with burgundy-colored sheets, matching pillows and a comforter imprinted with huge burgundy and yellow flowers.

“....a bed..!..” The Amazon beauty pulls away from Sal and quickly wavers over to the mattress and literally flops down face forward onto the comforter. “...Hera...this is divine..” she says after forcing herself to turn her face out of the pillow. Her wrists dangle off both sides of the mattress. Her expansive butt cheeks with their rubber sheathing shine in the overhead light. Only the very upper edges are covered by the dress pants tied around her waist. And with her legs spread apart and his pants crushed beneath Wonder Woman’s pelvis, nothing obscures Sal’s view of the famous heroine’s bald pussy. With the access flap shut but not sealed, her heavenly cleft is only slightly obstructed by mist and tiny droplets of condensation and other moisture that clings to the underside of the rubber suit as well as to the wavy fleshy lips beneath. The Champion of All Woman is completely oblivious of her womanly charms being on display for the Italian detective. In fact, in less than 30 seconds Sal can hear her breathing deepen and soft snores wind out of the exhausted heroine.

“Well, I guess you’ve earned that,” Sal says softly. He looks at the heavenly view of beauty personified and restrains himself with a mighty effort of willpower. It takes ever fiber of his being not to go over, lie down beside her and spoon against her with his raging hard-on nestled between those incredibly inviting cheeks. What keeps him from walking over are the bruises on her body, many of them, and poorly healed wounds. Those spur him with a sense of vengeance and he turns to leave the room and find his partner so the two of them can put down this mad dog. He hoped he was in time. He looks down and realizes he’s only wearing his boxer shorts and shakes his head. “Well, at least they’re clean. Mom would be proud.”

When he gets to the door, Sal pulls it open wider to make it easier to leave. This elicits a loud squeak from a hinge rarely opened so rapidly or widely.

“What was that?” Wonder Woman wakes with a start, turns her head and props herself up on her forearms. “Wait...you’re not...leaving?”

“I have to find Jimmy.”

“No! Stay here. You have to! Please... stay here...with me.”

“Diana. I have a duty to my partner.”

“...And...yeah, about my name...how....do you know...me...uhhm..who I am...? You never explained that.. ...my identity...it’s a huge secret....it’s a big deal...”

“This isn’t the time, I have...”

“Look! I just went through hell to protect that identity, mister!” Wonder Woman turns her whole body around and sits in a cross-legged position on the bed. Her anger is shaking her out of her foggy mental state somewhat but she’s still exhausted and every nerve is frayed. “I let that monster fuck me every way to Sunday to protect my secret and now you’re going to go spread it all over town. So I sacrificed myself, shamed myself, gave up my dignity, my honor for nothing! NOTHING!!!” Wonder Woman screams this last word and falls off to her side, stretched across the bed weeping and wailing in near hysteria.

“All over town..? I’d never...Hey! Listen to me, champ, I’ll have you know I can keep a secret with the best of them.”

“Did you tell Jimmy?” She asks, picking her head up and looking over to Sal’s face.

“....uuuuuuhhhh....”

“I knew it!” Diana’s eyes blaze with fury. “I’m screwed for certain. You’ve really done me quite a service today, pal.” The angry princess stands up quickly. Despite all she’s been through, her rubber-clad body looks lean and dangerous as she crosses her arms with one leg planted slightly off to the side, her chin thrust out.

“What?! I saved your life today princess!”

“The day’s not over. You can still screw it up.” Wonder Woman heads for the door. Abato steps in front of her blocking her exit. “What do you think you’re doing,” she asks.

“You shouldn’t leave. You’re in no shape to fight Pascal.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“You won’t. Be reasonable,” he pleads, putting his arms out to fend her off. “Stay here. Recuperate at least for a while.”

“Get out of my way, buster.” The angry beauty goes to brush by him when he takes hold of her wrists and pushes them against her chest, pinning them there and stopping her forward motion. “You don’t want to test me,” she growls. Her blue eyes flash at him with a recognizable haughty imperiousness that he’d seen before. It does his heart good to see it.

“That’s exactly what I want to do,” he says holding her in place.

“So be it, detective.” Wonder Woman twists her wrists counter to his grip and pulls her arms straight out to the side. To her surprise, Abato is able to maintain his hold on her wrists. His arms spread out as wide as hers. He then surprises her by releasing her wrists and encircling her upper torso in his arms. He squeezes her with a crushing bear hug, even going so far as to lift her off her feet and shake her back and forth slightly. His pants tied around her hips flop back and forth with each shake of her body. Her breasts wobble against him. Her ass shimmies wildly in the open air. Her hands grab his biceps and try to push them apart, to break his hold. She can’t do it. “Let go of me, you big lunk!”

“Nope! And I’m being nice. I’m sure the Frenchman, wouldn’t be so easy on you.”

“Easy? How dare you!” The struggling Amazon glowers and puts more effort into her arms, forcing them to push Abato’s arms away from her body. She gets herself a couple of inches relief before they compress against her again, squeezing her hard enough to constrict her breathing a bit. “Oh you stupid brute. Release me.”

“Make me, Princess.” Abato gives her another shake. He’s actually enjoying this. Why wouldn’t he? He’s holding a goddess in a clear rubber catsuit tightly in his arms and feeling the heat of her against his bare chest.

“...I’m trying...” Wriggling and straining with all her might, Wonder Woman cannot break free. Her fragile emotions get the better of her and she begins to whine. “...i...can’t...do it...can’t even...get away...from a mere...cop....” She goes completely slack in his arms, understanding his message and collapsing into a deep well of self-pity as Abato changes his hold, sweeps one arm under her knee and carries her over to the mattress. He kneels down and rests her limp form on the comforter. Wonder Woman curls up into herself as Abato goes around the bed and lies down beside her, spooning her after all.

“You’re staying?” She whimpers, taking hold of the forearms he’s circled around her protectively.

“Jimmy will have to handle this himself for now. I’ll stay here and protect you.”

“Thank you, Sal.” The Champion of All Woman’s tears fall on the hairs of Sal’s forearms as he clutches her body close and they both sigh deeply.

* * *

Jimmy Glendennan stands to the side of the tightly-closed second floor door with his back against the wall ready to turn the knob and yet one more time this day assault a target room. He takes a breath and is ready to move when a voice freezes him in place.

“That is you out there, is it not, Detective Glendennan?” Pascal’s tone is light and conversational. Jimmy doesn’t respond, thinking how he should play it. “There is no need to be coy, Jimmy. I know that your partner is no doubt seeing to the Amazon’s welfare while he sends you to do the dangerous dirty work. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, non? Quel tragedie!”

“I think of it as getting the fun stuff. Like taking you down, Frenchy.”

“But not always, monsieur.”

“We share the load. I don’t have any compl....UUUNNGGHHH!”

The hidden battering ram behind the wall knocks into the small of Jimmy’s back and sends him sprawling across the rug, tumbling and rolling helplessly in agonizing pain. When he finally comes to a stop against the wall, one foot is over his head against the wall, the other is bent underneath him and his head is on the light green carpet. Glendennan’s eyes have rolled back behind the lids. A deep resonant moan escapes the Irishman’s lips.

“...ohhhhhhhhhh....”

The door to the second floor bedroom opens and Rene Pascal saunters out. He is jovial, with a bounce in his step.

“Tch, tch. Poor little broken cop. I hope your spine isn’t permanently ruined . Can you wiggle your toes in those shoes of yours, officer?”

Very dazed and disoriented, Jimmy does try to wiggle his toes after a long 20 seconds as his adversary just stands over him assessing the damage. He can’t do it and he moans in distress and fear.

Is this it? Am I really paralyzed? Man, this sucks!

“Was that a yes or a no, Jimbo? I could not tell. Your verbalization was quite garbled.”

“...fuh...f...fuck...you...P...Pascal...”

“Well, I would have to say that it is you who is fucked, Officer Jim. But you can take some solace in the fact that Wonder Woman fell for the very same trap earlier today. Puts you in excellent company, n’est ce pas?”

Pascal squats down beside the tangled form of the detective and pulls the limp body into a semblance of order, flat on his back with legs straight out and his arms close to his sides. The defenseless cop is too dazed and immobilized to even resist being neatly arranged like some stuffed animal.

“I wonder if your partner will be coming to your rescue any time soon, Detective? As do you, I am sure. This is a bit of a pickle as you Americans like to say. Hmmm, perhaps a SWAT team will come charging in like the cavalry. That would be glorious for you, yes. To have your life saved by your armored fellow boys in blue. Too bad it will be too late though,” Pascal declares as he rolls up the sleeve of Jimmy’s striped dress shirt.

The befuddled and numbed cop can do nothing but watch in horror as his stunned spine keeps him from defending himself in any way. Taking a cotton ball and a syringe with a protective cap from the side pocket of his suit jacket, Pascal removes the cap and rubs the alcohol-filled cotton ball on the prone man’s inner forearm.

“I don’t want you to get any nasty infections, Jim. Oh, by the way, this is a very lethal poison, detective. It will kill you in about ten minutes but its victims usually lose consciousness in half the time.” The squatting man carefully injects the solution into Jimmy’s limp arm and then draws the needle out and replaces the cap. He then replaces the syringe in his pocket. “It is not terribly painful but its effects are quite permanent. You should not have gone up against me, Jimmy. And your partner never should have let you do it alone for the sake of that fat cow’s virtue. I will attend to both of them immediately. I did not enjoy being interrupted at the height of my pleasure.”

“...really...it was our...pleasure...f...frenchy...”

“So droll, officer,” Pascal smirks openly. “So witty...for a dead man. Adieu, you dumb mick.”

Pascal stands up and hesitates for a moment, making a decision. After his pause, he turns and heads down the main staircase, forgoing the noise of the elevator. He wants to catch the Italian cop and the Amazon slut unaware. He wonders where they might be and if he should just make his escape. Thinking he was so close to achieving his main goal of the past decade, Pascal grimaces, ready to take on the challenge no matter what.

With Pascal having walked off and the immediate threat of instant death put aside, Jimmy relaxes a bit, drifting in and out of consciousness. Then Pascal’s words seep down into his consciousness and jerk him awake. Poison was in his system and he was running out of time. He tries and finds he can move his arms and he reaches into his pants pocket, awkwardly fumbling out his cell phone. He drifts for a full ten seconds before his head jerks and he remembers his assignment. Focusing with all the energy he can muster, he looks at the phone’s screen and pulls up his contact list. He presses one button and then another, hearing the phone connect his call. After one ring, Dispatch answers.

“...c...carla...itz Jimmy G...get SWAT here...now....and a medical team...I’ve been poisoned....”

“I’m sending them to you, Jimmy. Hang in there. Don’t you dare d...” Carla pulls herself together. “Don’t give up, officer. Stay strong.”

“...will do...disppaattcchh....” Jimmy’s vision fades to blackness as he falls into forever.

End of Part 40

[tallyho]

I'm still playing catch up with this story , so I'm behind with latest posts but I just wanted to add a comment directed at any new or would be writers out there reading this excellent story
You can learn an awful lot from how this story has been put together.
The key thing that makes this story work for me (considering I'm not much into the sexual element of stories that's a real achievement) is in a word, balance.

It has good characterisation , with a good plot, with good perilous situations.
And all of it is expertly handled and described. Well structured, well written.
So I hope new writers find it inspiring (but note, you don't have to make your own efforts this bloody long ) and remember when you are writing it's easy to get carried away with the bits that interest you, but always strive as Doc has done here for a balance. You can write a lot of peril, as Dr Dom has, but it always either adds to the characterisation or the plot. It can be subtle, but it's there and it's fun when you find and share in it as it fleshes out the heroes and villains.

So my message to new writers is - read this ,enjoy this, think about this and emulate this and you won't go far wrong.

Doc, great job (upto 4posts back anyways, perhaps it's crap now! )

[DrDominator9]

Thank you Tallyho for your kind comments. And no, other writers' stories don't have to be so bloody long. But have no fear, this one is almost near the very end. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Just two more chapters to go!


Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 41


Sal is wandering around the tiny bunker in Pascal’s basement desperately searching for something sharp. Wonder Woman is now dozing face down on the mattress clad in the tight clear rubber catsuit. She’d asked Sal if he could help her get the damn thing off. She mumbled that it was sending her body temperature sky high and making her dizzy. She also stuttered through a worry that if Pascal got close he might just be able to start some damn program that would send her into a fit of helpless ecstacy. “He can do that?” Sal had asked. “He’s done it about five or six times. I lost count,” Diana had replied grimly.

So now Sal was rummaging desperately through the shelves and drawers for a knife to cut the tough rubber suit off the heroine. Finally, in the last drawer possible, he finds the cutlery. Forks, spoons, butter knives and steak knives are all laid out in their tidy compartments. Sal picks up a steak knife and turns to go back to the mattress when he stops in place. He walks over to the door to the bunker and slowly and quietly shuts it. There’s a simple brass doorknob on the inside. The mechanism clicks into place. There’s no lock Sal is disappointed to discover, meaning that Pascal can come in at will if he thinks to look in here. The shelves are all bolted to the floor so moving them is out of the question. In fact everything is attached to either the floor or walls, so there’s no way to barricade the door other than the mattress which is a poor solution. Shrugging his shoulders, Sal walks back to the mattress and sits down beside a prostrated Wonder Woman.

“You’re back,” she murmurs thickly, her voice filled with exhaustion. “You were gone a while. Did you find something?”

“I found a steak knife. It’s the best I could do.”

“...careful with it....gone through too much to be turned...into..someone’s...main course..,” she murmurs.

“Don’t move,” he says, untying his pants from around her body, pulling them out from under her and tossing them off to the corner. “I’m going to cut this thing off you, starting here from the back. I’m going to fillet it down your spine so hold still.” Sal puts his hand down onto the middle of Wonder Woman’s shoulders and aims the knife point just to the right of the locked zipper at the top of the catsuit. He begins to cut at the thin but rugged rubber. Slowly the smooth material begins to separate under the sharp edge pressed against it.

“...jus...be careful...no belt...no powers...s’only me in here...sweating up a storm...” The Amazon beauty yawns and settles into the mattress a bit deeper, letting her muscles loosen.

“I said STAY PUT! I almost cut you already and I’ve barely even started. This knife is very sharp.”

“Okay, okay...sorry....but my muscles are tight...”

Sal lifts the knife away from her skin and rubs her neck with his left palm. “Yes, I can feel a lot of tension in your neck here. Your tendons feel like steel cables.”

“...mmmhhh...sweet talker....don’t stop that.......feels good....”

“Well, just a bit longer. We’re on a deadline here, Princess, I think. Unless Jimmy comes down to find us and tell us Pascal’s left and everything’s aces.”

“...shhhhhh.....more massage....less jibber jabber....” utters the drifting beauty.

“Hmmphh! I shouldn’t even be doing this for you. ‘A mere cop’ she calls me.”

“...jibber.........jabber....” Wonder Woman sighs deeply, her eyes shut, fingers twitching.

After another half minute of working the tendons in her neck and bare shoulders til they uncoil beneath her skin, Sal goes back to work, picking up the knife and slicing the rubber suit very slowly and carefully down the length of the prostrated beauty’s sensuous back. When he reaches the base he pauses for a bit. He has to cut a swath between the luscious round buttocks. He wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on his boxers, takes a breath and leans down, close to the still goddess lying before him.

“I...uh...have to cut...uhhmm...between your..uh....”

“...have to slice the suit....down the crack of my ass...right...?...”

“...uhh...yeah....er...yes...I do...”

“Well...do it...detective...it’s not...not like it’s sacred territory...anymore...I’m...I’m in the...the public domain...now....for good...” Wonder Woman begins to weep softly again, filled with the realization of just how ruinous this day has been to her, to her self-image, her public image, her very soul. She feels inexplicably damaged inside and sees no way to recover the life she’d known for years and years.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Abato slowly inserts the tip of the knife between Wonder Woman’s ass cheeks and oh so carefully continues to slice the rubber. He takes one hand and pushes her right buttock to the side to get the best possible view of the rubber skin he’s working on and sees her balloon knot, greasy with sweat and some white flaky residue of Pascal’s semen embedded in one tiny dry crevice. “...people...people still respect you. They will always respect you.”

“Pardon my language, Sal, but that’s a steaming pile of bull crap,” growls Wonder Woman as she trembles with fury at the depths she’s fallen, or been pushed. Her twitching rear end causes Sal’s trembling hand to stop, the knife point poised perilously close over the heroine’s anus. He pulls it out and with the same hand, wipes his brow with his forearm.

“Well, I respect you.”

“That’s a switch from this morning and before that. I got the feeling you didn’t like me much.”

“I don’t. But I respect you. Now keep still unless you want a second asshole.”

“I have a second asshole and he’s kneeling on the bed right next to me.” Wonder Woman turns her head and gives Sal a small, wan smile.

“Why you little...” He gives Wonder Woman a playful slap on her butt and she winces at that, the smile disappearing immediately. “Oh, god. I’m sorry. That was so.. so...so out of line.”

“Don’t give it a second thought, detective,” murmurs Wonder Woman as she rests her chin on the back of her hands with a mournful sigh. “My body incites...behavior like....like that. It has for... for years...and years....” Once more, Wonder Woman breaks down and cries turning her face into the soft comforter and dousing it with her grief.

With a growl and a grunt, Abato suddenly grabs the edges of the catsuit at the top of the Amazon’s butt and rips it apart with a shout, “That’s it! I’m getting this fucking thing off you, now!” His arms stretch the springy rubber to the limits of its tolerance and beyond. The suit separates down the length of her ass crack and down to the very middle of her thighs with a loud warbling sound of a steel saw being struck. The resilient rubber finally exacts the energy expended and retracts quickly, pulling the Italians arms together and his palms collide together over the middle of Wonder Woman’s back with a thunderous slapping sound.

“What the hell....” Diana starts to turn but can’t move far as Sal presses one palm against her thigh and proceeds to rip apart the left leg of the catsuit in a line down to her toes with a squeak of rubber. Seeing now what Sal is doing, Wonder Woman stays on the mattress and lets the Italian cop work out his frustration on her rubber prison. She’s thrilled to see him do it and could care less that her body is on display for him, everything out there for his eyes to snap to with delight. But there isn’t delight in his eyes. There’s purpose and righteous rage and duty in those brown irises.

When he finishes ripping apart the right leg, Wonder Woman turns onto her back and sits up. She helps him strip her of the suit by grabbing the loose rubber at her neckline and yanking it down. This frees her breasts and they wiggle and sway in place. Lying down on her back, Wonder Woman arches her lower back, raises her legs first and spreads them so Sal can pull the torn and tattered catsuit off the rest of her body. She helps him by lifting her pelvis at the end and the position presents all her assets to him in full detail. He looks at her crotch, looks in her eyes and then carefully bundles the dangling heap of rubber into a ball and chucks it across the room where it hits the opposite wall with a loud smack.

“I wish that was Pascal’s head,” Sal says and turns away suddenly, facing the opposite wall. “You might want to get under the covers, Diana,” he says hoarsely.

Before I lose control and fucking slip into you like a rutting dog!

Taking his advice she flips the corner wide and does get beneath the comforter, but she’s not in any hurry and she’s looking at the detective’s back with a bit of a surprised expression.

“You really don’t like me?” She asks this softly.

“You’re growing on me,” he says turning toward her with a weak smile. Her face and even the shape of her body under the thin comforter sends thrills right through him. He’s trying to be noble but this is Wonder Woman here. Naked and needy.

“Come under here with me,” she says pulling open the comforter and patting the sheet. “Just hold me, please. I need it. I so..so need it.”

“Are you...are you sure?” His eyes are like a four-year-old’s whose spotted an open package of Oreo cookies right there on the coffee table within easy reach.

“I just really need the touch of a person who cares about me...at this moment, I need it desperately. Please Sal.”

Without speaking, Sal kicks off his shoes and climbs in under the comforter next to a completely naked Wonder Woman. He looks at her, unsure how to proceed.

“What d..do you need?” His voice is actually shaking.

“Hold me. Just hold me in your arms,” she says, her breasts pressing against his chest and enfolding him with her own arms.

His arms slide under and around her and she buries into his body, her head next to his on the mattress. The scent of her hair and body is thick and musky with all the activity she’s gone through on this long day but it sets his senses on fire. The very presence of this incredible beauty pressing up against him, her body warmth glowing against his as he holds her tight, the weight of her breasts against his chest, the prod of her nipples pressing lightly into his skin makes him rock hard. He feels her heart beating through their shared skin.

He gulps with a noisy swallow and Diana gives a little snort of acknowledgment about what’s going on below.

“At ease, detective. I understand the attraction. I’m not insulted.”

“At ease is the very last thing I’m capable of, lady. I assure you.”

“Then maybe this ‘lady’ should put you at ease.” Wonder Woman’s hand creeps across Sal’s thigh, reaches into his plaid boxers and holds his shaft lightly. He doesn’t exactly reach the ceiling on his jerk of surprise but he’s not far off.

Her fingers surround his stiffness and gently pulse in time with his heartbeat. Sal lets out a groan. “You call that ‘at ease!’ Hell, I don’t want to be crude, Diana, but I’m about at the edge of my self-control here! I want to be inside you. Like now!”

“Good idea, Sal,” Wonder Woman says, gripping his jaw lightly and kissing him full on the mouth while lightly stroking him. Diana pours herself into this man, desperate to feel a connection to a human being who cared about her, who wasn’t there to taunt, wasn’t there to kill, wasn’t there to beat on her psyche. He was there to help her and she draws on this strength like cold well water in a desert oasis. She can’t stop herself from drinking him in.

Her tongue slips between his lips and goes exploring, warm and eager, embracing his tongue, entwining and tussling with it. Her one hand continues to feather up and down his shaft while the other pulls his body against hers slightly tighter. They moan at the same time, enjoying the thrill of two bodies finding unexplored terrain. His left hand holds her right breast, enveloping its heft and gently squeezing it as his right hand does the same with her left buttock

When finally their mouths separate in the need for fresh air, it’s Wonder Woman who speaks first. “Why don’t you take off your briefs...make things easier.”

He does this. Guinness isn’t there to take note of the world record he sets. Too bad. “You must think I’m quite the slut.”

“I just think you need human contact, Diana. That man, he’s not human.”

“But you are. You most certainly are, Detective Abato.” She goes in for more.

Her hand grasps his hardness more firmly and the strokes get more eager, shifting his skin up and down with a rhythm that has Sal woozy with pleasure. He holds onto her body for dear life, squeezing her breast and ass and pulling her to him. He feels the outside of her fist sliding up and down against his pelvis and suddenly her other hand grabs between his cheeks and her finger prods against his anus.

“..huhnn....ohhh...” he gasps with absolute delight. “You sure are..a...wonder, ...woman!”

“Shhh...don’t talk...just now...please....just get closer...slide into me...I need you...your rod... inside me....please...”

Silently, deftly, easily, Sal slides his pulsing shaft into Wonder Woman’s warm, slippery tunnel, connecting with her on a primal level. He enfolds her body, side by side on the mattress. They are co-joined, pressing against each other with just their pelvises gently grinding away beneath the comforter. They kiss and moan and clutch and sigh.

The pace begins to increase and Wonder Woman is whining softly, a keening sound of incredible joy and deep, deep sadness. She is immersed in this reality and this reality is beyond sweet. It is so painfully wonderful that her heart hurts. And then Sal begins to thrust and thrust and thrust and she holds him so tightly he can barely breathe. She exults in his fierceness; in his length and width; in his heat and in his energy. Slightly short of breath but set on automatic and too blissful himself to care, Sal savors the Amazon’s tightness; her powerful thighs as they press against his legs and her ankles entwine his legs, pulling him closer to her, her scent and her acceptance. It’s all beyond the scope of anything he’s experienced in his entire life. When the crescendo arrives, they both cry out together, blind with the joy of life, treasuring it for all it’s worth at the end of this most horrific of days.

They lie together in silence afterwards. Drifting and loose. Dribbling fluid and not caring a whit about anything. And together the two of them drift into the arms of Morpheus.

* * *

A big-breasted young blonde reporter in a bright pink blouse and a tight powder blue suit with a skirt that only goes to mid-thigh stands in the glow of her cameraman’s light. A octogenarian with a ring of wild white hair surrounding a bald head stands beside her wearing a light tan windbreaker over striped pajama bottoms. Neither the reporter or the old man seem to care about his fashion risk.

The blonde prepares to do her standup interview in front of the police barricade a block away from a very congested scene surrounding Pascal’s residence in Chevy Chase. The brick townhouse is now surrounded by a phalanx of police, yellow tape and emergency vehicles parked haphazardly on sidewalks and lawns with flashing blue and red lights that light up the night sky.

Pascal’s neighbors have been asked to move back to blue police barricades and off their front lawns where they’ve been describing their neighbor as polite and good-looking and a credit to the area to the early news crews arriving on the scene who’d been monitoring the police band. The attractive blonde, Heather Wells, has arrived late and is trying to play catch up with the willing senior citizen who she’s pre-interviewed just moments before.

“We’re going live, Heather,” says her cameraman, “...in 4...3..2....” He folds down his forefinger and jerks up his thumb with the high sign.

“Good evening. In a stunning and dramatic development to what has been a tense few weeks here in our nation’s capital, it appears that a suspect who has already allegedly killed three superheroines has now captured a fourth, the famous Amazon beauty Wonder Woman. Apparently, that heroine has been held and repeatedly beaten and raped throughout the day in a brick townhouse one block from here in fashionable Chevy Chase. In a surprising development, this man, a professor from France, Rene Pascal, has gone public with this capture, going so far as to offer a podcast of his most recent kidnaping on a website created specifically for this event. Beside me is Mr. Casper Stevenson, a next-door neighbor of the professor. The suspect has lived in the United States now for more than 15 years. Mr. Stevenson...”

“You can call me Casper, Heather.”

The man winks and wiggles his fingers at the camera at the same time Heather frowns. She turns it quickly into a very weak smile and continues on.

“Casper, you’ve lived right next door to Dr. Pascal for over 10 years you’ve told me. Did he ever show any signs of being unbalanced to you in all that time?”

“Besides being French, you mean?”

“Yes, besides that,” Heather grits her teeth.

“Not particularly. We didn’t speak that much to be honest. He always seemed busy. Kind of preoccupied. But when we sometimes came out to retrieve our newspapers at the same time, we made small talk.”

“Did he seem to have a temper?”

“No. He was actually quite charming...especially for a Frenchman. I can’t believe he’d hurt anyone. This is pretty surprising.”

“Didn’t you tell me you heard screams coming from the house once or twice over the years?”

“No, I did not, Heather. You misunderstood me. I said I heard screams a couple of times from there today. But never before that.”

“Yes, of course,” Heather nods, bull-rushing past her error into the meat of her interview, “but those screams, did they sound like they came from a woman, possibly even Wonder Woman herself?”

“I suppose it’s possible. Unless it was some guy who got kicked in the nuts. Men can be pretty high-pitched when that happens. Can I say nuts on TV?”

“Bryce,” Heather says, turning back to the camera and ignoring the oldster at her side. “The police are formulating a plan I’m told and are awaiting the arrival of SWAT. Just before the site stopped showing live action of Wonder Woman it appeared she had escaped with the help of two stalwart detectives from D.C., Salvatore Abato and James Glendennon. But that was over 20 minutes ago and she’s yet to make any appearance. Nor, for that matter, have the two police officers inside the house been seen since. Until SWAT arrives and they possibly go in hot, however, we can only guess what sort of dreadful conditions that brave woman might be going through. For now, the website has gone quiet with only a homepage showing obscene images of the heroine in compromising positions in photo sets available for purchase.”

With a heavy frown as prearranged with her cameraman, he goes in for a closeup of Heather’s beautiful face, centering on it for the duration of her wrap up before pulling back to a medium shot.

“On such a calm and peaceful night, it’s hard to imagine that a tragic state of affairs could be unwinding here. But people around me are hoping for a resolution that does not include yet another death of a famous heroine, indeed, possibly the most famous of them all, The Champion of All Women, Wonder Woman. For Channel Four Action News, here in Chevy Chase, I’m Heather Wells.”

“I’d do her,” Gary says, loving those thighs wrapped in the tight powder blue skirt and appreciating the shape of those large tits under that bright pink blouse as they rise and fall just before the cut back to the anchorman. “Show of hands?” He says. His three companions’ hands all go high in the air.

* * *

The tall Frenchman cautiously makes his way down the secret back stairway to his basement lab from the first floor utility room. He has decided not to use his cell phone to re-engage the website for live action until he has the situation well in hand.

With one hand against the cool stone wall, his other pushes on the heavy steel doorway to his lab, swinging it open wider. There’s no one in the laboratory and all the tear gas from earlier has fully dispersed. Unless someone is hiding behind the door, the place looks clear. He shakes his head angrily about the fact he’d forgotten to take the Irish cop’s gun. He does have a syringe and a few bottles of heavyweight drugs in his jacket pocket, and the handheld camera in his other pocket but they’re no answer to the gun that the Italian cop carries.

Dashing across the lab in a sprint, he hides behind the choke table, squatting low and peering behind the door. There’s no one there. He can’t see into the deepest shadow but he knows the lab is deserted. It just feels that way. The sour scent of sweat and death waft up from the stained leather pad next to his face and Pascal breathes it in, relishing the smell of his conquests over women of vastly greater physical skills but stunted brain power. He will find Wonder Woman and her crude Italian protector and finish them both off. He’d lied about the poison to the Irishman. He’d just dosed him with a strong sedative. Abato may actually get the poison he has in a tiny bottle in his pocket. Or he may get the curare. It would serve the asshole right to watch his beloved heroine get dragged off to die with him unable to do a thing about it. Yes, that sounded better. Maybe after he killed Wonder Woman he would go back and inject the helpless cop with the poison on top of the curare. He might choke on his own vomit. A fitting end to the foul-mouthed pest.

Moving on in his search, Pascal heads through the door leading to the storeroom and quietly, stealthily looks for where the duo might be hiding. He’s not certain that they didn’t head up to the first floor but with the house in lock down mode, he would have heard if they’d tried to break out with every window and door bolted and sealed. Getting an idea, the ingenious villain keys his phone and brings up the security system, carefully calling up all the camera views of the storeroom. Slowly thumbing through them, he finds no dark shadows, no crouching bodies, no frightened shining eyes anywhere. Just the one camera shows himself with his face peering at this own phone in the open area just outside the lab.

“Where have you two do-gooders tucked yourselves away to, hmmm? Not the freezer?” He grins at the thought. That would be a lucky break, even though there’s no camera in there, he would have plenty of ways to make their lives miserable

Suddenly his phone vibrates in his hand with an incoming call. He’s pleased he remembered to mute all the sound features. It wouldn’t do to give his position away. The prince and princess of justice were dangerous enough as it was without giving them any advantage. The screen just gives a local area phone number. Rolling the dice, he takes the call.

“Hello?” Pascal whispers this as he heads back into his lab and away from the freezer just to be sure any lurking ears cannot hear him.

“Rene Pascal?”

“Doctor Pascal if you please!”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Doctor Pascal, this is Heather Wells from Channel Four Action News.”

“Ah, yes, right. You are the blonde girl with the big hooters and tight blouses, n’est ce pas?”

Pleased her fashion marketing choices are working, Heather presses on. “Doctor are you prepared to surrender with the house surrounded by at least thirty policeman?”

“Is that all? Call me back when it gets to 50, cow!” Pascal hangs up. He is pleased at the police presence. It fits into his final plan nicely. All he has to do is find Wonder Woman and dispatch her and that bothersome cop. He heads back into the storeroom, swiftly and silently heading for the freezer.

When he gets to the wall beside the freezer door, he flattens against it and very carefully slides the lock latch into its closed position. The second it clicks shut he spins and looks through the freezer window. It’s not that large a space and its clear no one is inside.

“Merde!” Where else could they be? They cannot have vanished into... Ahh!” A sly smile spreads over his features. The bomb shelter! It is the only place left.

The bomb shelter will not be an easy place to assault. It’s very defensible. He stands in place, stroking his beard as he holds his phone down by his leg, tapping it against it as he thinks. “If only there were a camera in there,” he mutters softly. He considers drilling a pinhole. He has a camera that would fit but the drill would probably alert them. He considers returning to retrieve the gun lying under the Irish cop’s unconscious body upstairs. Probably exhausted, and without her bracelets or god-given speed, Wonder Woman would be an easy target. The dago cop would be more of a challenge. Curare would take care of him but how to deliver it? There was no gas canister attached to the ducts in this room so he couldn’t knock them out. There was a ceiling duct for fresh air. He could try to rig a gas attack but the duct was tucked into a high ceiling and it would be noisy and troublesome to get to. Pascal starts to pace. Time is draining away from him, he feels. His window of opportunity to recapture the Amazon cunt and finish her for good and still make his escape feels like it’s beginning to swing shut. He looks at his watch. He may have only 20 more minutes before he has to walk out of this house forever.

“I have to risk this! I have come so far, come too close to lose everything.” Quickly removing the syringe and bottle of curare from his pocket, he efficiently fills the thin barrel with the potent serum and holds it aloft, ready to stab whoever guards the door. He has to be careful and only use a half dose and save the other half for whoever is left to fend off.

Girding himself, he strides over to the outline of the door in the gap between the steel shelving. He gently presses the spring mechanism and it only very faintly clicks before releasing. Taking hold of the door edge, Pascal very, very slowly opens the door and then stops it from moving any further. He knows it squeaks when swung too wide.

With no one launching out at him, he sidles into the small gap of the just barely-opened door and is greeted by the most wonderful sight he could have hoped for. Two snoring bodies lie on the mattress across the room entangled under and over the comforter. Sal’s bare leg is bent and resting on Wonder Woman’s naked pelvis while their chests are covered by the bedcover. Shifting his eyes to the ceiling, Pascal praises God, his good fortune, or whatever being seems to be watching over him. Maybe it is Saint Valentine with the way these two are sprawled in a tangle of legs and arms.

In less than ten seconds, Pascal has the handheld camera out of his jacket pocket and wedged between two cans of potted meat. He sets it at wide angle and then takes out his cell phone and starts up the feed from the camera to the website. So as not to wake the sleeping innocents, the grinning Frenchman types in a bold-faced message in 48 point type that flashes on the home page just before the video feed goes live.

“WE’RE BAAAACCKK!”

Wasting not one more second, Pascal steps silently and rapidly to the side of the bed and injects Detective Abato with the full syringe of curare right in the thigh that’s exposed. He is so supremely confident in his ability to handle the Amazon himself without the effects of the nerve paralyzing agent that he gives the cop the full dose.

“..hey...what the...” Abato wakes up with his leg stinging. He opens his eyes to see the bearded Frenchman rising up and away from him. Sal swings his arm out with a roundhouse punch that is just quick enough to catch Pascal square on the nose. It erupts with blood even as Pascal stands there in shock, his head reeling.

“OWW! Merde!” He drops the syringe and his hands cover his nose, one hand pinching it, his fingers firmly applying pressure.

“Oh fuck! Diana! Pascal! Trouble!”

Without a second’s hesitation, he pushes the naked Wonder Woman off the mattress and into Pascal’s legs. This causes Pascal to stumble and fall on his ass as Abato springs to his feet, standing on the mattress with his fists raised in a fighter’s stance. He’s butt naked and his gun is on a shelf four feet away, but Sal doesn’t think he needs it. He thinks he can handle this science nerd with his fists. He’s looking forward to it.

Pascal continues squeezing his nose as he sits a foot away from a befuddled and moaning Wonder Woman. The day’s toll has left her beyond groggy and she struggles to find the sense and equilibrium to even know up from down. Her face is pressed against a threadbare red area rug, her eyes focused on its loose weave. She see’s Pascal’s shoe in the background but is too out of it to understand the threat.

“..whuuuuuuh...?..”

“I’ve been waiting to beat the shit out of you, Pascal. You led me on a wild goose chase this entire day.” Sal adroitly steps over a wobbling, groaning Diana and puts himself between her and Pascal. He looks down at his sitting opponent who is just removing one hand from his face as the other continues to squeeze his nose.

Carla at D.C. Dispatch watches the screen that’s been set up at her station in case she’s needed as a fast feeder of information to the two detectives. Her jaw drops at the sight of a naked Detective Sal Abato standing up on a mattress with his fists up and his package hanging down. “I had no idea that he was so well-endowed,” she murmurs to herself. If he gets out of this, she’s taking him out for a coffee and a....whatever.

Pascal is getting awkwardly to his feet and Sal peers intently at him, searching for hidden weapons in his free hand or any sudden movements. The Frenchman straightens up and steps back nervously. He covers his wounded pride with false bravado. His voice though is squeaky and nasal through his fingers.

“Id dook you duh endire day do figure id owd doe, did it dot, Abadoh? Dust az I plad.”

“You planned to have your face punched, Pascal? I don’t think so. You’re going down, prick, for everything. And I’m the man who’s...who’s gunna...punch...yer...tick...” The swarthy Italian falls face forward as he suddenly loses all the muscle control in his legs. He has just enough strength in his arms and hands to cushion his fall so he doesn’t break his nose or suffer a concussion, but the fall is hard and Sal is badly winded by it. As soon as he catches his breath, he’ll get up and knock this guy.....except he can’t move his neck, or any extremities he realizes. “...whaya...du..t’me...” They’re the last words he’s able to voice.

Pascal removes his fingers from his nose and sniffs. He’s stopped the bleeding. “It is curare, moron. Same as I shot up your naked-ass-girlfriend here with earlier. Now look at the two of you, both paragons of the law: bare-assed and defenseless on the floor. I just love the classic tactics. They never get old. Isn’t that right, Princess?” Angrily grabbing the woozy, exhausted beauty by her hair, Pascal drags her five feet across the red area rug on her back and slams the back of her head against the bottom shelf holding four 30-pound bags of rice.

THUUUNNKK!

“HUUNNGHH!”

If her head had hit the shelf with that force, it might have rent a nasty wound but the front edge of the rice bags cushioned the blow just enough to prevent that. Nevertheless, Wonder Woman’s eyes cross and her hands twitch at her sides as she’s had her bell rung soundly. The heroine is so dazed she doesn’t see the kick to her ribs coming but she sure feels it as the toe buries into her. She rolls over on her side with a high-pitched yelp and goes into a fetal position.

“No....don’t....” she wheezes in a pitiful wail. “...please...no more...you win....you win... you win....I give up....you’re better than me...stop...STOP! STOOOPPPPPPP!” Wonder Woman is crying and begging as she tucks her head behind her hands, warding off the punches that Pascal is now raining down on her body.

He is in a fever of blood lust after being punched in the face by Abato and takes it out on the helpless Amazon, punching, kicking and shouting at her.

“Fuck you, bitch. Who is the champion now? Who has been ahead of you all day, every hour, every minute, every fucking second? Who?”

“...you...it’s you...been you all day...like you say...every fucking second ..so please.... please....stop...no more...I can’t take it... please...”

Pascal reaches down with one hand and wrenches away one of the arms protecting the huddled beauty. His other hand grabs her jaw and twists it so her face is presented to the camera wedged on the shelf. The picture sent out to the world is one of a panicked, wild-eyed Wonder Woman with snot draining out of her nose, a small cut over her eyebrow, a growing bump on her temple and a fattening upper lip. Her defense had been shoddy at best in her dazed and lethargic state.

“And now the piece d’resistance, mon amie”

Pascal jerks up Wonder Woman’s head by the hair and smashes her forehead against one of the upright posts of the shelving unit with considerable force. She goes out like a side of beef in a slaughterhouse and Pascal lets her limp body fall to the floor with a thump. From ten feet away, Detective Sal Abato can do nothing but watch as the Champion of All Women is then hoisted up in a fireman’s carry by Pascal and walked right past him as he lies limp and helpless face down on the floor.

And then he sees Pascal’s legs go past him the other way, retracing his steps. From his low vantage point, he sees Pascal squat down right beside the rumpled heap of clothes against the wall. Securing the limp body with a firm restraining hand on Wonder Woman’s wide ass, Pascal pulls a glowing golden rope out of the pocket of Sal’s pants.

“Perfect! Just perfect,” the Frenchman exults.

Sal is thinking the same thing but in a much more bitterly sarcastic way. The end of the rope drags past his fingers and he can’t move a muscle to grab it. He lies on the floor, naked to the world just before Pascal puts the lasso into his own pants pocket, takes his cell phone out and switches the view from the handheld camera to the storeroom cameras.

* * *

“Man, that guy just does NOT like Wonder Woman,” Jake says as he watches the raven-haired beauty’s forehead bounce off the steel shelving unit only to then see her limp body dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

“What gave you the hint, Jake?” Roger rolls his eyes. “What I can’t believe is that the fat old cop actually got to fuck Wonder Woman. Who the hell saw that coming?”

“Yeah, for fuck sake! I mean,” Gary is almost spitting in his vehemence, “I could have had her if she’s willing to do him!”

“Yeah, ‘cept you didn’t ‘xactly lay on the charm when she was here, man,” Jamal points out.

“Well, she did come in on her high horse and all. Fuckin’ bitch. She’s not so high now though, is she? Not with her ass draped over Frenchy’s shoulder like that. Not begging and whining like that. Not getting her ass reamed. No, the Princess got knocked down quite a few pegs, just like she deserved. I just wish I was the one tapping that big, luscious ass.”

“And me,” Jake, Jamal and Roger all answer simultaneously.


End of Part 41

[DrDominator9]

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 42

Wonder Woman’s big luscious ass is set down on the sweat-stained leather pad on the table in the middle of Pascal’s laboratory and her limp form is then gently laid out on her back. The bearded scientist then carefully lays the flaccid arms close to the sides of the exquisite naked form and then slowly and meticulously turns the unconscious woman over onto her stomach.

He’s not sure how much Wonder Woman had recuperated while he was dealing with the Irish cop but he’ll know momentarily after he handcuffs her limbs to the table, wakes her up and takes the readings from the resistance meters attached to the cuffs.

The last time he had her on the table she only had the strength of a seven-year-old girl. Based on how little force or reaction he’d gotten from her when he dealt with her in the bomb shelter room, he didn’t think the heroine had gained that much back.

Having turned the camera system back on as he’d walked out of the tiny bunker, the website has broadcast the limp heroine being carried through the storeroom to his lab. Her ass crack and pussy are on full display as Pascal makes his way back to the laboratory. And now the system is set on multiple feed cameras for this big finale.

With both cops taken out of action by his syringe work, Pascal is pleased that he can complete his final experiment with the famous Champion of All Women completely uninterrupted. The SWAT team might be out there preparing to invade his house but he knows they have procedures to follow that require time to set things up. His own automated lock down procedure had closed steel shutters on the basement windows so there won’t be any flash bang grenades coming in through that way. Looking up he sees that he’d left the door to the upstairs and the secret utility entrance open in case he’d had to run back up out of harms way. He quickly strides over to the large steel door, closes it and then locks it securely. No one is coming through that way any time soon. There’s no lock on the door into the storeroom but he crosses to a worktable, picks up a high stool and goes over to the second door and shuts that one as well. He wedges the stool under the door knob to brace it shut and prevent sudden unexpected visitors.

As he turns around from the door he sees Wonder Woman stirring, one hand on her forehead, the other dangling down with her fingertips inches off the white tile as she lets out a long low moan.

“...ohhhh....whuut...happened...tuh....me...?...”

Merde! I should have secured this cow first. Now I have given myself a bit of a challenge.

From his vantage point, Pascal can see her pussy pressed flat against the leather pad. Her anus is hidden by the deep shadow of her ass crack. As it happens the software selects the camera mounted in the ceiling behind him to give the website viewers a view not too different from his angle.

“Oh my god, Steve, she’s back on the table! Wonder Woman’s back on the table! That monster has somehow managed to find her and overcome that big cop.” Etta was in the midst of buttoning her uniform skirt when she’d looked up at the monitor. The last she’d seen on the screen, Wonder Woman had been rescued and then Etta had succumbed to that incredible urge to ravage Steve. She was glad it was mutual but how on earth had things gone so badly for Wonder Woman?

“What are you talk....Oh, hell! Not again!” Steve declares, zipping his fly as he gawks at the monitor. The naked beauty he’d thought was finally safe after her endless day was now back on that horrific table and seemingly just coming around. Her arm movement is hesitant and lackadaisical even as Pascal is rapidly closing in on her from where he stood ten feet away. “Wonder Woman! Get up! Look out behind you!” Steve shouts uselessly at the monitor.

Pascal feels in the right pocket of his jacket and wraps his hand around the syringe and several bottles there but as he strides toward the dazed figure on the table, the shifting weight in his left jacket pocket brings a smile to his face. He lets go of the medical items and reaches into his other pocket with his left hand and pulls out a heavy chunk of metal: his brass knuckles. They’d been buried under the handheld camera and he’d completely forgotten about them.

Fitting them neatly onto his right hand, he steps up toward the body of the befuddled Amazon as she turns toward the presence she senses behind her, the cascade of air brushing against her naked nipple lifting off the smelly pad.

Her eyes widen even as she sees the glowing arc through her blurred vision coming at her. “Noo!” She shouts, trying to throw her left arm up to block the swiping arc coming straight at her face from only inches away. Her arm is too slow and weak and the arc of golden color shunts it off to the side with a sting of pain before connecting with her jaw. Her teeth snap together with a noticeable click even as her body goes tumbling off the table and onto the hard white tile floor. She falls on her back, face up, both arms flung out wide, her hip twisted and her legs entangled, with her ankles crossed.

“GHUUNNHHH!”

Wonder Woman’s vision, blurry before, goes completely white as she swoons on her back. Her irises roll up deep into her head and her hips and hands jerk in a jangle of nerves from her battered skull.

“Damn it!” Steve is raging at the monitor. “What the fuck happened? They’d freed her! How did she screw this up?”

“Screw it up?” Etta snaps waspishly, turning toward Steve with a cold glare. “You think this is her fault!”

“I don’t....no...it’s not that,” Steve replies, reining his temper in. “It’s just....I’m not used to seeing her...like...well...she’s usually just so much better than this!”

“That poor, poor soul...” Etta looks at the wilted figure being hoisted back on the table by the grunting Frenchman. She watches with a frown, her hand on Steve’s shoulder as he collapses into his office chair. Together they watch as the white-eyed Wonder Woman is rolled onto her belly and her wrists and ankles secured to the table legs with handcuffs by the methodical Pascal. Is he actually humming the Marseillaise? As if people needed any more reasons to resent the haughty French without this prick humming their national anthem.

“There we go, cherie. Right back to where you belong,” coos Pascal as he clicks shut the final handcuff onto the weakly straining wrist of a very disoriented Wonder Woman.

“...nuhh...nnuh...dun’t....pleez...stop it...no...go way...”

Pascal is smiling. He’ll check the meters for her resistance levels but the famous heroine seems even weaker than when he had her on the table before.

He slaps her ass and sets it to wobbling as he then squats down and coos into her ear.

“This lovely rear of yours is about to be spread and fucked for a final time, mon amie. I trust you are ready?”

“...no...please...don’t....want...to be...fucked...not again...noooo...” she whines. Things had been better! She’d been rescued! She’d been comforted and held. Now she was back in the hands of this monster. How had that happened? How had she and Sal let it happen? And where was Sal? Would he save her ag.... “Aaghh!” she yelps as she feels her rear end goosed. Very deeply!

Pascal’s right hand has reached between her cheeks and probed against her anus with his forefinger. His left hand now tilts the resistance meter fastened to the handcuff. All the power of a four year old child he notes. He angles the meter a bit to be sure and then beams with glee at this. With his other hand, he roots around a bit deeper into her asshole which causes his smile to dim.

“Hmm. Pretty dry in there! Did your wop friend not get you excited enough, slut. Did you crave my large cock instead? Did you pine for me as you fucked him, Wonder Whore?”

Pascal stands up and looms over her back as Wonder Woman looks at the white tile floor and sees her tears fall to its glistening surface in the lights.

“...wasn’t...like that...you...rat face...pig....”

“No, I’m sure it was all chocolates and flowers. But the fact remains,” he pulls his finger out of her anus and quickly swipes it into her pussy. It comes away slightly wet and he smirks at this new information, “your pussy’s not even that slippery. I think it was a pity fuck, you sorry cow.”

“...it wasn’t like that....not at all...” murmurs the obliterated heroine tearfully... “...it was compassion...you...azhole...but...you wouldn’t...understand... not...in a million....years...” Wonder Woman strains at the shackles that secure her face down on the table but she’s far too exhausted to achieve anything but a dull rattle of metal on metal.

“Tell you what, Princess, I will make you a deal.” Pascal bends down and whispers in her ear, too softly for anyone watching the website to hear him. “I’ll let you live if you announce to the world your secret identity.”

Diana stops struggling, freezing in place, contemplating her fate. She could get out of this. She could live. She would just have to let go of her one last secret. What would be the harm at this point? Really?

“Think about it, cherie,” Pascal says, straightening up before casually adding, “While you do, I am going to get us some anal lubricant. I like a nicely-greased ass when I fuck.”

“...that’s what....all your boys....tell me...” answers Wonder Woman thickly.

The sudden hitch in Pascal’s step is noticeable but he continues walking to the end of the room to the workbench drawer where he stores his sex paraphernalia.

* * *

Captain Joe Meyers checks the house plans laid out on the bench inside the SWAT van. The dark-haired six-foot -three leader of the Special Weapons Assault Team is scowling heavily as he leans closer to inspect them slowly under the goose neck fluorescent lamp. He runs his finger across the blueprint of the first floor of the brick townhouse just outside the vehicle.

“These are bullshit,” he says to the shorter red-headed man looking over his shoulder. “Based on what that website shows, that basement is twice the size of what these plans show. He must have enlarged it since. Probably not even up to code.”

“What are you going to do, cite him for a code violation? We’re a little past that, Captain.”

“If sarcasm is the best you’ve got Agent Bannon, then I’d appreciate silence so I can plan this operation on my own without the bureau’s help.”

“This is a bureau operation as of right now, Captain Meyers. The Director considers this a kidnaping case and as such, jurisdiction is now under the FBI. So you clear all plans through me.”

“Peachy,” growls Meyers, “but if you don’t pipe down, my concentration suffers and people could get killed. Give me ten minutes here. I’m going to review this tape and sketch out a more accurate representation of what we’re facing in there for my men.”

The five-foot-ten Agent Carl Bannon stays where he is for a moment, just looking closely into Meyer’s eyes.

“Please, Agent,” the SWAT Captain adds with earnest conviction but softer. “Let me do my job.”.

“I’ll be out there,” the bureau man says then taps the plans with his forefinger. “Ten minutes. We’re running out of time for that woman in there. We both know this guy’s not working with a full deck.”

“It’s a stacked deck I’m worried about,” answers Meyers gravely. “He’s got booby traps in there. We’ve both seen them.”

“Yeah, he’s setting all the rules. For now. Let me know if you need anything for your plan. We’ve got no budget restrictions on this. That’s from the top.”

“That’s something at least. I’ll let you know. I may have to use our armored assault vehicle. In fact, shit...AYERS!” he shouts out the back of the van, “GET ON THE HORN AND HAVE THEM DRIVE ‘PROUD MARY’ DOWN HERE! I NEED HER AS OF YESTERDAY! IS THAT CLEAR, SERGEANT?”

A voice from the darkness behind the van replies with a snappy “Yes sir, Captain.” Meyers then grabs a yellow legal pad and starts to sketch his own plan of how he believes the basement is actually configured. His pencil flies across the yellow sheet and he occasionally hits the rewind button on the tape or refers to the live feed of the laboratory on the monitor above him showing the website. He barely registers that the “fibby” agent has left the van. He shakes his head angrily at the view of the solid steel door in the corner of the lab. “Mother-fucking mad scientists. Why me?”

* * *

“My guess is he asked her to give him a blow job willingly,” Jake suggests as the foursome debates what kind of deal Pascal whispered to the helpless naked heroine chained to the table.

“She already did that, man,” Jamal replies. “This has to be something bigger than that.”

“Some hugely sick sex act, no doubt,” Gary chimes in. “Something that makes the Kama Sutra look like a kid’s picture book. Something that even an Amazon would have trouble contorting for.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think so,” Roger offers. “I don’t think it’s even sex he’s referring to, much as I applaud your imagination, my oversexed companion.”

“Me?” Gary turns and glares at Roger. “You’re in here whining like a two-year old if your subscription to Jigglin’ Jugs! isn’t here exactly on the dot and I’m the one whose oversexed?”

“Point taken, sir. But nevertheless, I think he’s after something else.” Roger rubs his chin deep in thought. “If I had to guess, I’d say some huge secret she’s keeping. Like the location of her island home or some government code or something. You know, it could be that very same thing we were discussing earlier this evening. The whole reason she let him do everything to her.”

“Like her secret identity or Superman’s weakness or something like that,” Jake adds.

“Kryptonite, genius. Everyone knows that,” Jamal shakes his head.

“Think she’ll give it up? Whatever it is he wants?” Gary poses the question on everyone’s mind.

“Everyone’s got a breaking point,” Roger says. “Sure seems like Wonder Woman is past hers. I’d guess yes.”

* * *

Laid out on the carpet in the second floor hallway, Jimmy Glendennon’s eyelids twitch and then flutter and then slowly open. There is a low moan as the Irish detective looks at the white ceiling over his head.

Did anyone get the number of that truck?

Clumsily he props himself up on both forearms and shakes his head to clear it.

“Man that was...” He stops talking in mid-sentence as his eyes roll up under his lids and he collapses heavily back onto the carpet. Shaking his head? A bad move. The worse. The blackness circles around him and snatches him back.

* * *

Pascal walks back towards the table holding a weakly struggling Wonder Woman. Her arms and legs pull at the handcuffs holding her tight but she might as well save her strength for all the good it does her. The Frenchman has completely eliminated every one of her god-given powers and reduced her mental strength to that of a mewling little girl. Even now she whimpers as she sees the bearded scientist approach her. He is holding a tube of Butt Lover Extra! in one hand and squeezing out a stripe of the gleaming pinkish gel onto the forefinger of his right hand.

“Well, cherie, have you decided to accept my deal?” He is poised in front of the captive beauty who doesn’t even raise her head to look at him. She leaves it resting with her cheek on the thin leather pad and staring at the glass shelves filled with beakers, bunsen burners, test tubes and other lab necessities.

“...don’t trust you....”

“I assure you, Wonder Woman, that I will keep my word and let you live if you do as I ask.” His fingertips rub together, circulating the ointment around and over themselves in a slow calm process as he stands over this naked goddess negotiating one extra grand humiliation.

“...your word....not worth the toilet paper...to scrape it up with...”

Pascal’s beatific smile turns into a growling glare. “Really? Heroism at this late juncture, Wonder Woman? A little overdue for that from a woman who has eagerly pleasured my cock with her mouth, her cunt and her ass, n’est ce pas?”

“...never..................eagerly...you.....sack of...sh...UUNGHH!”

The fist wrapped in brass knocks Wonder Woman’s head to the left with a jolt and it stays there, her temple bleeding from the blow.

“So the hard way it is to be! Alors! Then let it begin.”

Pascal walks around to the feet of the prostrate Princess of Themyscira, spreads her cheeks with fingers of his left hand and jabs his greasy forefinger deep into her butthole.

“..hhssssss!” The heroine feels the finger rotating in her rectum, spreading slippery cool gel all around the inside of her passage and then as the finger pulls out, all around the inside area of her buttocks clenched around her rear entry hole. She pulls on all four handcuffs but it’s useless. A second heavy buttering of the pink gel is applied liberally inside and all around the outside of her balloon knot for easy entry.

“I am actually pleased you did not accept my offer, Wonder Woman. I would have never forgiven myself for letting you walk away from this ultimate personal achievement of mine.”

“....cornholing....a heroine..?....that’s...your life’s.....highlight reel...prick? That should... tell you...something...” mumbles the dazed champion.

“You do not give yourself enough credit, mon amie. You are a world famous heroine. Taking you down the way I so easily have sheds your glowing fame onto me.”

“...thought.....cockroaches...hated the....light...”

Pascal stops in the middle of pulling open his zipper. His dick is already expanding with the anticipation of plowing this bound beauty’s ass. He shakes his head in disbelief. After everything he’d done to her, (and he can’t even catalog it right now it’s so extensive) she still shows her will. He had broken it, several times throughout the day, but it still seemed to heal itself. Time after time. That was the essence of a hero. Not the powers. Not the light shows or the bent metal bars or the flying. It was this center core of belief in themselves and in an ultimate sense of right and wrong. The other three heroines he’d killed had possessed this core. They were not like normal people in that regard. He hated them for that.

But they WERE like every female in the way he needed them to be. Each had weaknesses to exploit. Each had a throat that could be choked. Each had a lovely round ass that could be violated. That was his core. To be able to break down even the strongest woman to her most helpless, most defenseless condition. To take her as his own possession. To fill her with his cock and show her the futility of her struggle. To take her honor, her pride, her life and leave her nothing but a dying rattle of breath no matter how much she believed in herself, her cause, her hope. Crushing all that heroism and self-love, and knowing he could fill her rear with his jizz as she breathed her last breath, well, that got him very, very hard.

“Let us see how feisty you are when you’re choking to death with your ass filled with my dick, Princess.”

“...filled...?...doubt that...Tiny...” murmurs Wonder Woman, still trying to recover from the stunning blow to her temple.

When he sees that the molybdenum choke chain is broken as he feared, shot to pieces by Abato earlier, Pascal nods at this expected occurrence and simply reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tangle of golden rope he’d picked up back in the bomb shelter. He begins working at it, untangling it and then fashioning a knot with it as he stands behind the prone Champion of All Women admiring her ass.

“You know the definition of intelligence, Wonder Woman? Being able to adapt to one’s surroundings with creative solutions. No chain available? How about using an unbreakable rope fashioned by gods?” Pascal finishes his knot: It’s a noose.

He leans over and slips it over the head of the shackled beauty, sliding it past her raven hair, past her widened eyes and down to her neck. He tightens it securely, the golden cord gleaming against her throat in the ample fluorescent light from the overhead fixture.

“I will be avenged, you filthy cur,” Wonder Woman declares as her anger over her own lasso being the instrument of her death focuses her thoughts. She knows there’s no way out of this now. Pascal had controlled things far too well all along.

“I look forward to meeting your successor, bitch. I just hope she’s more of a challenge.”

Pascal climbs onto the table, sitting on the back of Wonder Woman’s thighs and draping his legs over the sides of the table. He then bends low and says with loud, malicious glee, “Thank you though for making it so easy for me today, hero.”

He harshly yanks the noose taut, one hand on the loose end, the other pushing hard against the coil of glowing rope.

“Gghhhllkkk!” Wonder Woman’s mouth opens wide as do her eyes. She feels Pascal viciously tightening the rope against her throat even as he’s pulling it back. With her hands shackled to the table leg, the combined strain of the noose itself as well as the rope pulling back against her neck cuts off her air supply immediately.

“Aaaaaggkk!”

“Oh? Too tight, cherie? What a pity.” Nevertheless Wonder Woman feels the rope slacken and wheezes out loudly in relief. Obviously Pascal is going to play with her to increase his pleasure....and then before she realizes what’s going on, the heat of the man’s penis is suddenly pressed up against her anus and violently thrust up into her ass.

“GHUUUNNNGHH!”

“Ahh. Home sweet home,” sighs Pascal enjoying the heat of the Champion of All Women’s ass surrounding his pulsing cock. “That lubricant really does the job, doesn’t it, mon amie?”

With no more strength than a child of four, the Amazon warrior can do nothing. She pulls on the shackles in desperation but it only makes the strain against her neck worse. And despite her comment about the size of his prick, the heat and size of the familiar shaft filling her rear does send a tingle of pleasure up her spine even at this horrific moment. As if reading her mind, Pascal suggests exactly what she’s thinking.

“Feels like old times, does it not Wonder Woman? My cock spreading its delightful warmth through those compromised sphincter muscles of yours; and little old you with no powers to squeeze me out. I love the sensation. How about you?”

“....Hhrrllgkkk..!...”

“Oh, what ever is the matter? Noose got your tongue?” Pascal chuckles at his lame joke as he slowly withdraws his dick out of the famous heroine’s ass until only the fat mushroom head of it remains buried in her. He rotates his pelvis, grinding the fat bulb just inside her rear entryway. The pleasure of that makes Wonder Woman whine softly in frustration at her helplessness. Pascal takes this as a sound of delight and taunts his captive.

“So, you did miss me, cherie!”

“...nuh...nnhh...no...no...didn’t...” she rasps out.

“No? Really? This loooong shaft,” Pascal says, pushing his hips forward, “plowing its way deep up into your cavity does not excite you in the least, my dear?” Pascal pulls on the noose, tightening it more and causing Wonder Woman’s head to wobble and her to gag for air.

“..okay....yes...it..d...does...” gasps out the choking Amazon. Compelled by the Lasso of Truth, she can not lie. Her will is nothing by now compared to Pascal’s.

“Explain it to me, slut.” Pascal lets up on the rope a bit, letting Wonder Woman’s head nod forward. “In vivid detail.” He hilts himself within her rear, holding onto the noose with one hand and smoothing the palm of his other hand over the soft wide curve of her right buttock before giving it a firm squeeze. Her warm flesh molds like soft dough in his hand.

“...please...don’t make....me....”

“Princess!” he admonishes her like a child. “Come on! You know you have to.”

“...s’wonderfully hard....”

“And?” Pascal prompts her for more.

“...warm...deep...and...and...wish you....would...make it....move...now...”

“There! That was not so difficult now, was it?”

Wonder Woman begins to weep and moan as Pascal grants her wish. He withdraws and thrusts three times, savoring his conquest, the heat of her, her tightness and her woeful whimpering under his hand.

“...end this...” the Amazon suddenly pleads. “...finish me...”

“You do not call the shots here, mademoiselle, I do.” Despite what he says though, Pascal jerks the noose tight with one hand, spreads her cheeks wider with his other hand, and begins to pound away at the helpless heroine. Time is passing and his escape will be endangered if he doesn’t bring this experiment to its natural conclusion. He’s loathe to do it but he bears down, taunting her cruelly. “Still, if this is what you wish,” Pascal huffs out his gibe with a gasp as he plows away, “I cannot refuse a lady.”

Wonder Woman’s hands and ankles jerk hard in the handcuffs, sounding them off like wind chimes in Hell. Her eyes begin to bulge as the noose cuts off all her oxygen with ruthless efficiency. Her body begins to jerk and buck beneath the thrusting physique of Pascal taking his pleasure from her.

Without warning, the Amazon beauty feels Pascal’s hand slide underneath her pelvis. In the next instant, his fingers poke into the top of her pussy. His thumb and forefinger begin to roll and caress her clit with furious attention.

“Ehhhgkkkk! ....n..nuuuuh....nhhh....”

“Hush, my pet. Did you think I did not care about your satisfaction? I am nothing if not a gentleman.”

Pascal now begins to ride the world famous heroine’s body with incredible fervor. He pulls on the noose, humps his pelvis up and down repeatedly against her bouncing ass and diddles her twat with metronomic consistency.

“You cannot tell me,” gasps Pascal as he rocks back and forth on Wonder Woman’s sweating body, the effort making his words come in bursts, “this does not make.... your head swim.......with ecstacy, Wonder Woman....huuunnfff.... Is it the lack of air?” He grunts as he thrusts at her ass. “The pleasure? The inability....uuuuhhhh.... to affect the outcome? So hard to tell...uunnghhh.., n’est ce pas?”

Wonder Woman’s face begins to shade to purple as her tongue lolls out of her mouth and in the fog of her consciousness, she hears Pascal’s words and knows he speaks the truth. Her head is pulsing with inescapable pleasure, absolute fear, horror at her lack of control and endless shame for her inability to resist the thrill of his huge fat cock plowing her rear as her clit is teased to insanity. The Champion of All Women climaxes in the very midst of her ultimate defeat.

“UUUUUUUUNNNNNNGGGGGGGKKKKKKKK!!!!!!” Her body jerks, she grunts what seems like forever and her loins flood with the release of her absolute ecstacy.

“Magnifique! ...and...eurrreeeekkkkaaaahhhhh..!!...”

Pascal, his scales tipped by the flushing rush of this heavenly creature orgasming beneath him, reaches his own climax. Jets of his hot seed pulse like a Jacuzzi starting up inside Wonder Woman’s ass. The sensation of his throbbing dick pulsing inside her cavity sends the wheezing, bewildered and helpless heroine into a second climax.

“...EEEEEENNNGGHHHHH..!..”

“...suh..suh...such a....slut...” Pascal wheezes, delighted with himself and everything. He withdraws his hand from Wonder Woman’s pussy, wipes her juices on her ass and takes a firm hold of the noose with both hands and begins the final choke out of the mighty Amazon hero.

“AAAWWWGGKKK!”

Her face contorts in horror as any oxygen that had seeped through during the loss of Pascal’s control during his climax is ruthlessly cut off. Once more the legs and arms yank and strain to no good outcome. Once again Wonder Woman’s body hops and jerks and bumps on the sweat-stained leather pad where her sister heroines had also met their final fates. And once again, Pascal seems to know her thoughts. Perhaps the lasso constricting her neck to that of a wrinkled turkey’s is sending her last musings back to this monster.

“So now it is your turn to die, Wonder Woman, just like your not-so-powerful sisters. You! The famous heroine; so proud; so resolute; so heroic even up to the end. What does it get you, Princess? Nothing but dead like all the others. You are no threat to me or to any evil mastermind like me ever again, cherie. And you will go to your death knowing that all you stood for was for nothing. Now die, bitch! Die!”

With her tongue dangling out of her mouth and her sweating face going deep purple, the mighty Amazon Princess gives out a final rattle from her spent lungs and her eyes bulge just a bit wider, her stare looking into a future in which she no longer has a place. When Pascal finally releases her golden lasso, the heavy head of the all-too-silent champion falls to the leather mat with a thump.

“Don’t worry,” Steve says to Etta, nervously biting his lip. “She’s just playing possum. She’ll get up and give this prick the beating of his lifetime. You just watch. She’ll get up. She always does.”

“Oh, Steve,” Etta says, her eyes glistening with tears. “No, she won’t. She’s gone.”

“She isn’t I’m telling you. You don’t know Wonder Woman like I do. She’s got something up her sleeve. Some trick.”

“I think we should shut this off now. It’s upsetting you.”

“But...but we’ll miss how she escapes.... We’ll miss that. I don’t want to miss that.”

Etta shuts off the monitor and cradles Steve in her arms as he just stares at the blank screen.”

“You turned it off. Why did you do that Etta?” He looks up at her with confused eyes.

“It’s just better this way, Steve.”

* * *

The four males in the Heavenly Delights Emporium stand in shocked silence at the huge tv monitor hung on the wall. They’ve all seen it but none of them can process it: Wonder Woman is dead. Her limp body rests on the table in the Frenchman’s lab as still and unmoving as the surface on which it lies.

“Damn,” says Jamal. “Didn’t think it’d play out like that.”

“Wow, you really think she’s dead,” Jake asks. “I mean dead dead? For good?”

“I don’t see how she could have withstood that. The man was relentless and she, well, she was just too spent,” Roger replies.

Gary is still staring dumbly at the screen until he finally mumbles, “Didn’t want that. She...she didn’t deserve that.” Then he gets much louder. “What happened to the fucking SWAT team. Where are all the Justice Leaguers? HOW THE HELL COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED?”

The joyride that the foursome had been delighting in had turned tragic before their eyes. The reality setting in harshly with sickening suddenness. “Wonder Woman_Screwed” was one
thing. Wonder Woman Dead was not what they thought they were paying for. Still, all the signs were right there, the brutality, the vicious taunting, the coldness of the Frenchman. Gary is sick and ashamed. The silence in the bookstore, the hung heads and the eyes averted from the screen by Jake, Jamal and Roger combine to make this a moment that Gary will never forget.

The men in the bookstore continue to watch the screen, as do all those around the world still tuned into the website, those who’ve not clicked off, those who are entranced and unable to tear themselves away from the defining moment in history when a legend fell.

Pascal gets off the table, pulls his penis out of the lifeless figure and puts it back in his pants. He takes the handheld camera out of his pocket, focuses it on the rear end of the motionless Wonder Woman. He then keys his phone to make the hand-held camera the live feed for the website. Slowly he zooms in on the shadow between the wide cheeks of the motionless figure. He presses a button on the camera and the camera’s lamp lights up the scene, turning the shadow into a pale fleshy crevice. Pascal’s hand moves aside one of the heavy cheeks and zooms in closer, bringing the heroine’s anus into clear view. There is a fat glob of thick white pasty fluid slowly oozing out of Wonder Woman’s butt onto the stained leather pad, adding to the record of misery embedded in the cowhide.

“There she is, people. Your mighty hero screwed as promised. Screwed for good. Screwed forever. Her big beautiful rear end dribbling out my cum. Here she is in her final moment of glory on earth: the acclaimed Champion of All Women leaking semen from her ass in front of the entire planet.” The Frenchman backs up step after step as he slowly zooms out until he gets Wonder Woman’s still form in a full shot. The naked body of one of the most famous heroines on the planet lies in limp futility, a corpse now. Pascal closes with a final taunt. “I hope you enjoyed the show featuring the incredible, the amazing, the beautiful and unbeatable Wonder Woman! As it turned out though, she really was not that wonderful, was she?” He pauses. “Or unbeatable. Hmmm. Who would have thought? Oh well, I simply must dash. Thank you one and all for making me a multi-millionaire. Good night, world.” Pascal gives Wonder Woman’s ass one final stinging slap that sends her cheeks wobbling like matching jello molds, then keys his phone one last time and the website switches to the home screen of the optional photo sets still available for purchase. Though the scientist doesn’t see it in his rush to leave the premises, the visitor count on the website begins to drop dramatically with thousands and thousands of viewers dropping off the site in just a few minutes. The phenomenon that stopped a world in its tracks is finally over.

* * *

Gary switches from the static home screen of the Wonder Woman snuff website to the streaming feed from Channel Four Action News. A concerned Heather Wells is seen listening to her producer in her earpiece, her head bowed. The audience can’t see it but her camera man is motioning wildly to her, his one arm waving frantically as his other holds the camera trained on the petite stacked blonde. He’s mouthing the words, “We’re live!” but the reporter has her head lowered as she listens intently to the voice in her ear. She’s pressing the earpiece closer with the palm of her hand.

“She is? You’re absolutely sure of that?” Heather is adamant. “It’s my ass on the line here, Pete and if you’re wrong....okay! I believe you. You know I don’t have a monit...” She looks up to see her cameraman waving and mouthing yet again the words she dreads to realize.

“We’re live?” Heather’s face shows panic for a full two seconds and then she plasters on her stock grim face for tragic news stories.

“Good evening. Thank you, Bryce. The story we’ve been following this long night about Wonder Woman in the hands of a psychologically disturbed professor....”

“Mad scientist you mean,” Gary snaps.

“...has ended in the tragedy everyone hoped would not happen. The famous Amazon heroine apparently died this evening at the hands of a French national with a dual citizenship as an American, Doctor Rene Pascal. His whereabouts are not known at this time but it is believed he remains inside the residence where Wonder Woman was murdered.”

Making her face even grimmer, Heather continues on. “The renowned heroine was strangled to death and brutally sodomized on a live web broadcast that lasted for several hours. Down the block I understand that a SWAT team from the District of Columbia has kept the house surrounded and has apparently just now forced its way through a second floor window in the back of the residence and is doing a sweep of the home. The location and condition of the two detectives that had tracked Doctor Pascal throughout the day and entered the property approximately 90 minutes ago is still unknown at this time. I’m told that the SWAT team required extensive time to formulate an attack strategy due to the existence of several booby traps located throughout the house.”

Heather pauses, listening to the voice in her ear before speaking again, “This is a very fluid situation still and it’s difficult to ascertain what is precisely going on right at this moment. When further news is verified about the condition of Wonder Woman’s body, the location of the two detectives and/or the suspect as well as the final resolution of this shocking event, we will break into your normal programming again. Standing here in Chevy Chase with crying neighbors and shocked police and rescue workers, I am Heather Wells for Channel Four Action News. Back to you, Bryce.”

“Thank you, Heather,” the tanned anchorman says gravely. “Our thoughts and prayers go out to the millions of admirers of that incredible heroine Wonder Woman and to her relatives and friends. It’s a tragic night for them and all of us. We’ll take a station break right now and be back with this continuing coverage of Wonder Woman: Hero Under Siege in a moment.”

End of Part 42

Only one more chapter to the grand finale!

[DrDominator9]

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 43 - The Conclusion

Since this is the final chapter of this epic, I want to give my sincerest thanks to my good friend and standup Brit – Norm (norhob44), without whom this story would not have been submitted for your enjoyment as it has. He has been a steady source of encouragement, of enlightenment and of obsessive attention to detail about Wonder Woman’s weaknesses, alerting me constantly to the opportunities available for poking, stroking, prodding and caressing of her irresistible figure. So if you like her torment, tip your cap to him. He is also the reason this story has been delivered in half the time it probably would have taken me. I’m the reason it wasn’t sooner. But my loyal readers already know that about me.

As for the rest of what’s been written in terms of plotting and dialogue, I’ll take half the blame. The other half goes to the characters themselves. Besides being a chatty group, they are very strong willed and behaved in ways I did not always anticipate. But that’s the joy of writing for me. Finding surprises when you think you know what’s going to happen.

I thank you for your support and emails and suggestions and praise. I was thrilled to be able to talk with some of you and to know that there’s a vast number of you out there who though not having written still have enjoyed the ride. With the conclusion of this loooong story, I would hope to hear from you and know your overall opinion of the work-especially from those who have been shy or recalcitrant or, you know, busy. For those who have written in to me on a steady basis, you’re the engine that’s kept this vehicle going. But you know that. I also expect you know I will be looking forward to your usual insights.

And now, without further delay I give you the conclusion of the story.


Once more Jimmy Glendennan struggles to drag his brain to a wakeful state. He slowly sits up in the middle of the second floor hallway, his whole body hurting from the battering he took from the hidden ram in the wall. He knows better than to shake his head again and bring on another faint but he doesn’t feel nearly as weary and disoriented as he did before. It takes him a full half minute but he finally gets to his feet. His gun which was half hidden under his hip gets put into his shoulder holster under his sports jacket. Gingerly, the Irish cop makes his way down the main stairway to the first floor. Upstairs, the SWAT team is setting a small explosive charge to blow the armored window of Pascal’s home office.

Jimmy stands outside the small utility room deep in thought. He’s about to use the secret stairway down to Pascal’s lab to find his partner and try to see what the hell’s happened since he’d been drugged 45 minutes ago. That prick Pascal had lied to him about the poison. Jimmy knows he should be grateful that it wasn’t poison but he’s confused as to why the French fuck would let him live. Because he’s a cop? That doesn’t make much sense. He’s already wanted for the murders of three superheroines. What’s another cop on his resume? Shaking his head, Jimmy walks into the utility room only to be flattened against the wall by a rushing Pascal who’s just sprinting out from the stone stairway.

“HOOOOOOOFF!” The wind is knocked out of the shocked Irishman and he sags down the wall.

Pascal is just as surprised to find himself sitting on his butt staring at the Irish cop. Obviously that sedative he’s used wasn’t the right dosage. It was too light, the mick had woken up way too soon. When Jimmy reaches into his jacket to pull his gun, Pascal’s foot lances out and kicks his wrist knocking the gun to the floor. At the same time, Pascal reaches into his own jacket’s left side pocket and grabs the brass knuckles lying there.

Jimmy dives for his gun and Pascal lunges forward, landing on the top of the smaller man and grabbing for the wrist that’s inches from the revolver. Still stretching his left arm out for his gun, Jimmy slams his right elbow backward hard enough to stun the Frenchman in the side, causing him to drop the brass knuckles on the floor of the utility room with a loud clatter.

Jimmy’s hand has grabbed hold of the gun and Pascal hand engulfs Jimmy’s gun hand. They struggle desperately, a growling, swearing, biting and punching pair of adversaries that are equally matched to a seeming stalemate. No man gives any quarter or is able to achieve any advantage until Jimmy twists his hand in a direction that Pascal doesn’t anticipate. Yanking his arm down, to his side, Jimmy has his arm free with his gun in it, his finger on the trigger. He turns his wrist to point it at Pascal’s belly but the Frenchman is just able to grab the Irishman’s wrist one more time and push the gun down 10 inches before it goes off.

“Merde! You stupid fucking mick!” Pascal has been shot in the upper thigh and there is a sudden splash of blood spraying between the two men. It gets on Jimmy’s face and he briefly turns his head to avoid getting splattered in the eye. Pascal sees the cop flinch and picks up the brass weight from the floor and swings it against the man’s head. The brass knuckles aren’t fitted onto the beared Frenchman’s hand but the hefty weight of them in his palm as he slaps it against Jimmy’s temple is more than enough to stun the detective into a slumped-over heap of barely-conscious cop.

Pascal is about to reach for the gun in the stunned cop’s hand when there’s a small explosion on the second floor. That has to be the SWAT team! Pascal stands up quickly and then falls right back down, his leg giving way and his head woozy from the sudden pain. Shaking it off with teeth gritted, Pascal takes two faltering steps to the second closet in the utility room. Opening it, he picks up a dark blue gym bag. Swinging around too quickly, he winces and then walks over to the stairway that heads down to the lab. Before he heads down, Pascal pulls the secret entrance closed behind him, taking one last angry look at the slumped over cop before he shuts it completely. The man obviously had the luck of the Irish!

It’s a painful walk down the long flight of stone stairs to his lab. When he gets there, Pascal zips open the gym bag, pulls out a t-shirt and rips it in half lengthwise. He strips off his suit pants and suit jacket and quickly fashions a rough tourniquet around his thigh. That done, the sweating Frenchman then pulls out a dark blue pair of slacks from the gym bag and hurriedly puts them on. He also dons a dark blue lightweight jacket over his white shirt. The back of the jacket has the word SWAT imprinted in huge white reflective letters. Transferring his keys and wallet and all his personal items from the jacket and pants into his newly-donned uniform, Pascal zips up the gym bag with its fake passports and twenty grand in hard currency and heads out of the door from the lab to the storeroom.

Limping badly even as he tries to block the pain, the bearded Frenchman walks as quickly as he can toward the walk-in freezer. He unlocks this and pulls open the heavy door with a hiss of pain and a wince.

Merde, do bullets hurt!

Just as he is about to enter the cold room, he stops and considers rushing into the bomb shelter and injecting the Italian detective with his bottle of poison. He pats the jacket pocket of the SWAT uniform and realizes he had not taken the syringe or poison. He lets out a loud volley of curse words until he hears voices coming from his lab. The SWAT team is in his lab, clearing it of any threat and continuing to hound him.

This shuts him up and he quickly steps into the freezer and shuts that door behind him. Swinging his gym bag and his bad leg with equal parts pain and urgency, the heavily-sweating scientist walks to the far corner of the freezer and pushes aside a huge red cooler with a sudden shove and a growl. Beneath the cooler is a pine board. When Pascal lifts this up, a steep set of wooden stairs can be seen in the shadowy depths.

Sliding the wooden board behind a set of freezer shelves laden with frozen turkeys, Pascal then turns and drops the blue gym bag to the bottom of the steps and then climbs down after it. He pulls the big cooler back into place over the stairway hole using the special recessed handle he’d fashioned years ago in the bottom of the fake cooler. From overhead, there’s no indication of the secret passage beneath the cooler.

Taking a flashlight he’d left in the wood box next to the bottom of the stairs, Pascal makes his way down the dirt tunnel that had been dug eight years ago between his brick townhouse and the one right next door. This empty townhouse had not found a buyer for over eight years. The owner seemed to want too much money for it. The owner was a dummy corporation that was secretly headed by Rene Pascal. It had been a very costly secret for the Frenchman but at this point, it was worth every penny.

* * *

After just a minute, Jimmy shakes off the doldrums of being bludgeoned by Pascal’s heavy brass knuckles and gets to his feet, holstering his fallen weapon he’s picked up off the floor. Just as he does, the muzzle of an automatic rifle points into the door of the utility room and a short, rugged young man in a beard and a SWAT uniform commands him brusquely, “Hands up. Show me your palms real slow, mister and then freeze.”

“Ayers, is that room cleared,” asks a deep voice from the hallway outside.

“No sir, I have a prisoner in here, sir.”

“What?” Immediately, a tall dark-haired man steps into the room behind the young sergeant. He takes one look at Jimmy Glendennan standing there with this hands raised and lets out a huge sigh. “That’s no prisoner, Ayers. That’s one of ours. Detective James Glendennan. Didn’t you look at the pictures of the cops in the briefing?”

“No sir, I wasn’t in the briefing sir, I was back raising hell with the motor pool, sir. Obtaining the release of Proud Mary, sir.”

“Ahh yes, I forgot. James, you can lower your hands. What’s your report, detective?”

“I’m a bit in the dark of the status of the principles involved here right now, Captain...?”

“Meyers. Joe Meyers.”

“Captain Meyers, I was rendered unconscious almost one hour ago by the suspect Rene Pascal. We’d been tracking this man all day as a possible serial killer of superheroines. After we rescued Wonder Woman from this man, he launched a tear gas....”

“Yes, we saw all that on the web broadcast. But there were segments of time missing in the past hour. Do you know where your partner is now?”

“You don’t?” Jimmy’s heart leaps into his mouth.

“I’m afraid not, detective. The last we saw of him he was naked on the floor of some room and a naked Wonder Woman was being carried over your suspect’s shoulder back to the room where you first approached the subject when he was forcing himself on the Amazon.”

“Wait, what? Sal was naked in a room with Wonder Woman.”

“I’m afraid so. Conduct most unbecoming an officer. It certainly appeared that they’d had relations.”

“We’d saved her life. She might have been showing him her gratitude,” Jimmy says defensively.

“In the middle of an investigation with a suspect at large. That’s quite a breach of protocol.”

“Look, Captain, you can ream my partner out some other time but right now I’d kinda like to know if he’s dead or alive. I suspect he’s downstairs. Will you follow me and help provide cover?” Jimmy takes his gun out of his shoulder harness and opens the secret door that leads to the stairs down to the lab.

Meyers grabs Jimmy’s shoulder and pulls him back. “No, detective. I’ll lead you and provide cover. And Ayers will provide cover from the rear.”

“Whatever. Let’s just go find Sal.”

When they get to the bottom of the stone stairs, Captain Meyers cautiously opens the door and nudges Jimmy to his side and then gives Ayers a set of hand motions indicating he should keep his eyes open, stay sharp and go low. Meyers indicates he’ll go high, then turns to Jimmy and gives him the stay sign. Counting down silently with three fingers, Meyers folds down the final finger and the two SWAT personnel rush the room aiming their rifles at each and every shadow before clearing it for Jimmy’s entrance. Both Meyers and Ayers have their rifles pointed at the floor and both are shaking their heads slowly, swearing softly at the sight before them. Wonder Woman’s naked body lies face down on a steel-legged table with her arms and legs shackled to the table legs. Nasty abrasions and bruises on her wrists and ankles tell of an unsuccessful attempt at freedom. But the face of the famous beauty is horrible and upsetting. Bright purple with her tongue protruding, it’s obvious that the renowned Champion of All Women has been strangled to death.

“Goddammit!” Jimmy mutters, his face losing every hue of his ruddy Irish color. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what a clusterfuck. What did you do, Sal? How did you let it come to this?”

“Ayers. I don’t care how, I don’t care where,” barks the SWAT Captain. “But get an adequate cover for that lost soul immediately.”

“Yessir, Captain. I’m on it.”

“Your partner is not in this room, detective. Any idea where this other small storage room might be?”

“I do not but I’m sure as hell going to look. Our suspect is gone, Captain. I can feel it.”

“Until I prove to my satisfaction that that is indeed the case, detective, we go by my rules.”

“No, we go by my rules,” says FBI Agent Carl Bannon as he walks with brisk authority into the laboratory from the secret set of stone stairs leading from the utility room. He takes one look at the ghastly distended tongue and discolored face of the famous heroine and promptly turns about face, rushes up three steps and pukes onto the stone stairs.

“Fibbies. Gotta love ‘em,” says Meyers about FBI agents.

“Some of them spend too much time behind a desk and not enough time in the field,” replies Jimmy. “While the important federal agent is tossing his lunch, let’s go that way,” Jimmy points to the plain door leading out of the lab, “and see if we can find my partner.”

* * *

Sal Abato’s cheek is cold and numb, so are his naked balls and naked ass cheeks. What’s more, his nose itches but there’s not a fucking thing he can do about it. The curare continues to nullify all his gross and fine motor skills. So he lies helplessly on the basement floor. The area rug gives very little warmth over the cold cement and he’s laid out like a carp awaiting for either a shark to come by and swallow him whole like Pascal or for some nice friend like Jimmy to come and carry him away to safety. Or best yet, for the feelings to return to his fingers and toes and face and legs so he can stand up and save himself. He can’t even sigh. All he can do is blink.

And blink he does, several times, when (after a seeming eternity) he sees his partner Jimmy come walking through the open doorway to the bomb shelter. Jimmy goes white thinking he’s dead but Sal furiously blinks his eyes until Jimmy gets the message he’s not dead. The big Irishman rushes over to Sal kneels down and kisses him on the top of his bald spot and then assumes a more professional demeanor. One second later a SWAT captain enters the room and takes a look at a very immobilized Italian police detective and a widely grinning Irish cop and shrugs his shoulders.

“What a fucking pair, you two are!” Reaching to his shoulder microphone transmitter, the SWAT Captain calls for the EMTs and a stretcher. But Meyers isn’t smiling yet. “So where did our perp run off to. Anybody got a clue?”

“You got the place surrounded?” Jimmy asks as Sal listens.

“We do,” says Meyers.

“Well, he’s got to be here somewhere, ain’t that right, Sal?”

Sal blinks twice for yes.

* * *

“We have an important update on the two detectives who tracked Wonder Woman’s murderer to his house there in Chevy Chase,” intones Bryce Camden, the newsman with steely blue eyes and incredibly-smooth bronzed skin. He’s been anchoring this breaking news story with all the gravitas his stylist and vocal coach have imbued him with over the years. “Heather Wells remains there at the scene. Heather, what can you tell us about Detectives Salvatore Abato and James Glendennan?”

“Bryce, the boys in blue here and their brave brothers-in-arms in the fire department just let out a resounding cheer a few minutes ago when it was learned that both the detectives are alive. Both have suffered some injuries from their ordeal inside the Pascal house but nothing life threatening I’m told.” Heather brushes the hair off her face as the wind picks up.

“Detective Abato we have learned was attacked and injected with some sort of nerve agent that has caused complete paralysis. But the emergency medical technicians I talked to feel it’s quite possible that this paralysis is a temporary condition that may dissipate over the course of the next several hours. They’re not guaranteeing that but they remain hopeful that is indeed the case. As for Detective Glendennan, he has suffered severe back trauma as well as small cuts and defensive wounds including bite marks when he took on Dr. Pascal himself in two separate scuffles with the French professor.

“Since I last reported from here, the news media has been allowed slightly closer to the residence now that the crisis seems to be winding down. That brick townhouse 50 yards away,” the camera zooms in on the structure as Heather waves her arm behind her, “that is Dr. Pascal’s residence and as you can see there’s a ring of blue, as it were, of police from Chevy Chase as well as DC officers forming a cordon around the building.” Another wind gust has Heather holding her hair in one hand and her microphone in the other. A flash of lightning in the distance is followed by rolling thunder. Heather pauses to allow the sound to dissipate before she beings to speak again. Spattering rain drops fall from the sky which quickly turns into a steady drizzle.

“There’s still no sign of Dr. Pascal and the feeling seems to be split down the middle that the suspect has fled the scene or is still hiding within the confines of his house somewhere. They are conducting an exhaustive floor-to-ceiling search of the structure even now. I’ll tell you, Bryce, if he’s still in here and they flush him out, you can be sure that with more than 80 armed officers including SWAT team members like that diligent one checking out that neighbor’s house next door, it will be next to impossible for the alleged killer to escape this ever-tightening ring of justice. Here in Chevy Chase, as the rain begins to fall in earnest, I am Heather Wells for Channel Four Action News.”

The sudden steady rain has given Heather’s pink blouse a wonderful cling that shows off the magnificent curves of her braless 37 C breasts and her cold-enhanced nipples to a suddenly very attentive viewership. She doesn’t even try to draw her powder blue suit jacket over them. She can’t control the weather after all and it should do wonders for her focus group numbers.

When the live feed is done, Heather does pull the jacket close around her and buttons it, then looks over the grounds and wonders if she should try to get a stand up interview with one of the cops. She waves to the lone SWAT officer in the distance and he grudgingly waves back but then he moves off in the opposite direction toward where the team’s assault vehicle “Proud Mary” is parked. Maybe that greenish-looking red-headed FBI agent would go on camera with her. She heads over towards him and pulls her jacket open to show off the girls so she can get her interview.


* * *


The rookie Chevy Chase cop is miserable in the rain as he stands by the huge armored Hummer dubbed “Proud Mary” because she ‘keeps on rolling.’ When the SWAT team member with the pointed chin comes up and tells him the vehicle isn’t needed anymore and he’ll be taking it back to the garage, and to go get a cup of java, the young man looks appreciatively at the coffee truck parked 30 yards away with an awning. He salutes the SWAT officer and walks off.

Pascal smirks to himself as he backtracks to a nearby tree, picks up his blue gym bag hidden behind it and walks back to the mammoth truck. He climbs up into the Hummer, turns the key left in the ignition and drives off down the street and away from all those very busy policemen searching his now abandoned house.

Three miles away, the French scientist parks the vehicle in an empty parking lot next to a Metro station, strips off the SWAT jacket and leaves it in the vehicle. He straightens the toupee rubs his chin where his beard once grew and shrugs apathetically about the necessary changes required to get away clean. He hops on the next subway train that takes him to Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. Inside a stall in the men’s room he transforms into a tourist with camera bag, fishing hat and a southern accent and buys a one-way ticket to Atlanta. From Atlanta he books a flight to Micronesia by way of Sydney Australia. 22 hours later, he connects with his banking contacts in the small city of Weno and checks into a hotel. The following day he will look for temporary housing to rent while his mansion is being built. With no extradition treaty with the US, the quiet western Pacific island country should be a paradise for him once he starts spreading his millions around.

* * *

The now steady downpour in the nation’s capital lends a depressing air to the search of Pascal’s house. Nervous DC cops and hyper-alert SWAT officers are very twitchy as the lightning and thunder play havoc with their nerves. They’ve been told the place has booby traps and a few like an electrified rug and hidden battering ram have been located and neutralized. But it’s slow going as the men in blue search the premises with extreme caution.

Outside, Sal has been set up on a steel-folding cot with a canvas sling bed under a bright orange nylon cover as an EMT out of the District of Columbia continues to monitor and assess his condition. Jimmy stands nearby under the same cover watching the proceedings like a mother hen.

“Can you feel this, detective?”

Sal and the medical technician have established the simple code of one blink means no, two means yes. Sal blinks twice.

“How about when I do this.” One blink

“This?” One blink and a glare.

“Can you feel when I touch your leg here” Two blinks.

“Okay, great. I’m encouraged,” the 40-year old tech says. “I haven’t seen a lot of cases, since I’m not a doctor but I think you got a dose of curare or something like it.”

Sal blinks furiously. Pascal had told him he’d used curare but without an ability to speak or move in any way, communicating that information had been impossible.

Jimmy speaks up. “He’s going bat shit. His eyes are twitching like he’s on an acid trip.” Jimmy walks over and squats down beside Sal. “What is it, pal. Is it curare? Did Pascal tell you that’s what it was.” Sal stops the crazed blinking and his breathing calms immediately. He slowly blinks twice at Jimmy.

“Yup, that’s what the prick gave him,” Jimmy nod firmly as he straightens up. “Curare. Is there any antidote?”

“An ambulance is scheduled to come and take him to Walter Reed. They might be able to treat him there with something that’s faster than anything a local place can give him,” the EMT answers, “but I just don’t know for sure.”

“And all these ambulances just sitting here,.” Jimmy waves his arms angrily, indicating the flashing lights and immobile emergency vehicles in all directions, “they don’t work?”

“Army procedure, Detective. What can I say.”

“Say no more. I spent two years with the Army.”

“But how are you feeling, Detective Glendennan? How’s the back? I can suggest to the army ambie driver that you should go to Reed with your partner. I think we could swing that.”

“I’ll ride with him, but I’m fine.”

“Whatever you say, detective.”

Just then two figures hurriedly carrying another figure on a stretcher through the downpour come closer and closer to the bright nylon oasis. The local Chevy Chase EMTs carry the figure under the protective tarp. They stand there for a moment, silently deciding whether to lay the stretcher directly on the ground or not.

The body is fully covered by a burgundy sheet, the very sheet that Sal and Diana had made love on just barely 80 minutes ago. The rain has soaked the sheet and it clings to the figure like a second skin. This is a female. The hand that drapes off the stretcher, sticking out from under the sheet shows a wrist that has nasty abrasions. There’s no question that this is Wonder Woman’s body. Sal’s eyes fill with tears that run down his cheeks. Jimmy’s throat closes up and he turns away to try to collect himself. The two EMT’s decide to lower the stretcher to the ground after all and they do it like they’re handling nitroglycerin.

“Oh damn,” says the older EMT who then squats down to wipe away Sal’s tears with a handkerchief from his breast pocket. Sal’s body, though incapable of any controlled movement is shaking and a grunting sob bursts from his mouth.

“Is there anything I can do for you Detective Abato?” The EMT is the soul of propriety.

“What’s your name, technician,” Jimmy says, putting his hand on the squatting man’s shoulder.

“Pierce, sir. Simon Pierce.”

“Can you give us a minute, Simon. I’m sorry to ask you to go out into the rain but I must.”

“Not a problem.....uhhh....?..”

“Jimmy,” answers Glendennan to the unspoken question.

“I’ll be by the coffee truck if you need me, Jimmy.” The EMT dashes off through the pelting drops to the truck 20 yards away.

“What do you want me to do, Sal? Do you want me to turn your face away from her?”

One blink.

“Towards her?”

Two blinks.

Jimmy gently turns Sal’s head to face the pathetic figure draped in the soaking wet burgundy sheet. The body under the sheet is still an amazing thing to behold. The clinging fabric accentuates the female form like an artist’s tribute. And Sal’s tears, with his face turned to the side now flow down his face to the canvas stretched beneath him. Such a loss. Such a needless loss. He can feel Jimmy’s hand squeezing his shoulder. He wants to remember to thank him for this moment. And when he recovers he wants to remember this moment on the very day he faces Rene Pascal in person and puts a bullet in his heart.

Four minutes later, the Coroner’s vehicle shows up and the body of Wonder Woman is loaded into the back of the black hearse and is driven away. Ten minutes after that, the ambulance from Walter Reed arrives and Simon Pierce helps Jimmy and the army driver transfer Sal’s limp form from the cot to the stretcher to the ambulance. Jimmy sits toward the front of the rear cabin talking to the driver through the portal window. Just before Simon shuts the rear door to send the two detectives on their way, he leans over and speaks softly to Sal.

“I kind of think I know what you did for Wonder Woman, detective. I was watching that website at the station. I saw how she was before you two went in that room and I saw how she was when she woke up afterward. She was stronger for what you did, sir. I would remember that. You did a good thing.”

Sal gives Simon two slow steady winks. And then Simon closes the ambulance door.

* * *

Murray Banks walks into his autopsy room with a very heavy heart. He’d woken up after a peaceful Sunday night’s sleep only to discover that his world had exploded. The marvelously vibrant Wonder Woman who he was just starting to be friends with, who had just opened up to him this past week after three years of righteous aloofness had been killed during the night.

It was his job as the department head and senior M.E. to do the most critical autopsies. And he had to cut into not just Wonder Woman but Destiny as well. That wasn’t something he could hand off to George Constantine, although the bright young man would be assisting him. He was nervously pacing in the hall outside. Banks had asked him for a minute alone with the two women.

This will be the hardest work day of his life, hell, the hardest any kind of day in his life. He opens one of the holding doors and slides out the drawer. The body of Destiny lies before him on her back. She is completely naked as every body is in these drawers. She is the ideal of feminine beauty: blonde hair, smooth, glowing skin and a remarkable figure of obvious athletic grace even in deathly repose. The wound in her stomach is pretty nasty though. That’s not beautiful at all.

Murray sighs and turns around, then opens the next door over. He slides this drawer out and views the naked body of Wonder Woman. Murray is shocked to discover that a length of yellow nylon rope is still cinched around the famous Amazon’s throat. This was a gross error in standard procedure. All bodies were to have any weapons or items not integral to the body removed and sent to the lab for processing. As George was the one responsible, Murray is about to call him in and give him a harsh and pointed refresher course in his lab’s body-handling protocol. But the senior ME stops himself and calms his nerves. This was not the way to start the day. Not one that was going to be so emotionally draining.

He looks at Wonder Woman and tries to be objective. The face was, of course, hideous in its appearance. Even though the noose had been slackened somewhat during the transport, the color was still nasty, a pale blue from the usual hideous purple when choking victims ultimately met their deaths. The tongue still draped out of the mouth like a dead fish. But the rest of the naked body before him, as if trying to apologize for the face, was still magnificent. The dark beauty of a goddess as compared to the lightness of Destiny next to her. The physical perfection of these two women was something Murray could deeply appreciate. He’d had famous movie stars on his tables and supermodels and even some physical fitness video queens. None of them measure up to the standard of these two. The tragic waste of it burns Murray’s soul. He half hopes he never gets the body of Rene Pascal on one of his tables. He’s not sure his fierce anger wouldn’t overrule his professionalism. It would be a close thing.

With a sigh, he finally does call in George Constantine to the autopsy theater. When the young Greek doctor comes in, Banks points to the gold noose attached around the throat of WW.

“Why is that noose there, George?”

“Neither I nor any of the other night shift doctors or trainees or even janitorial staff were able to remove it, sir.”

“What?! You have multiple hands all over this body?”

“Mostly just the neck sir, and some pressed against her shoulders. I apologize, Dr. Banks.”

“Do you realize that you’ve compromised this autopsy already, Dr. Constantine. This is an inexcusable breach of procedure. And on Wonder Woman no less! Probably the highest profile murder victim ever to be examined in this state with the exception of John F. Kennedy over at Walter Reed!”

“There was no removing the rope, sir. Again I apologize. I didn’t know how to proceed.”

“You don’t ask the guy who cleans the toilets to take a crack at it! That’s how you DON’T proceed!”

Murray turns away and strides off, once again trying to calm himself down. He was overwrought having to see WW’s face so horribly contorted and the reason for it still wrapped around her throat. He talked with this woman himself on Saturday morning. Just two days ago. He walks back and leans over the rope. The shine of it is unlike anything he’d ever seen except for.... “My god, this is her lasso. Her golden lasso.”

“Sir?”

“That’s probably why you couldn’t remove it. It’s got incredible magical properties. I’m not even sure how it works.” Fretting at the noose with nervous fingers, Banks makes an effort to unknot the noose but every time he tries his hands seem to slip. He wipes them on a towel and tries again.

“Yes, I tried that, too, sir.”

“George, give it a rest. Let me see what I come up with.”

“Yes sir.

After 10 minutes of pulling and tugging and no success, Banks utters one indignant curse and gives up for the moment, turning his attention to Destiny. Banks presses his fingers against her wrist checking the skin for elasticity. It’s far above average, especially for a dead person. That was one of the first aspects of the body to break down.

Looking at the wound, Banks then lifts his head at his assistant standing by and watching his mentor. “I hate to ask this, George, but did you treat or in some other way tamper with this stomach wound?”

“NO SIR!”

“Calm down, George. I’m not accusing...well, I’m trying to ascertain if you broke procedure in any way on this person’s remains. If you did, it’s best to have it all out now.”

“I didn’t sir, the body was removed from the disposal site outside the Aeronautical Museum and brought here directly. Standard procedure was followed from there to the drawer, sir.”

“Then how can you explain the closure of a 10 centimeter gap at the bottom of the wound? Dead bodies don’t just heal themse....Whoa! Give me that Retinoscope please, George”

Handed the instrument, Banks leans over Destiny’s face and peers through the scope at her retina. He pulls his head away, blinks, and goes back to looking into her eye.

“This can’t be. Her retina’s still active after two days. This woman is alive!!”

“Sir?”

“The wound closure, the lack of blood lividity, the active retina.” Banks grabs the folder off the side table with the police report in it and scans it quickly. “She’d suffered direct shotgun blasts and there’s only the tiniest discolorations from the pellets. It happened less than an hour before her death. I can’t believe the scarring wouldn’t have been worse than this even with her physiology.

Banks paces back and forth between the two bodies of the naked women, then stops back and faces Destiny’s side, pointing at her with a shaking finger. “I don’t know how but this woman is not dead. Now how to we reanimate her?”

“Poke her. Hard?” Constantine is serious.

“Poke her?! You graduated from Johns Hopkins right?”

“Yes sir.”

“Were they passing out medical degrees on the corner that day?”

“Hardly, sir. You know, a sharp blow to the diaphragm has been known to work for drowning victims past the five minute mark.”

“I know the research but....you really believe it’ll work?”

“It’s worth a try. Shall I make the effort sir?”

Banks stands back. “Be my guest, doctor.”

George Constantine walks up to the other side of the beautiful naked body before him, winds up and gives her the hardest shot he can deliver with his punched fist just below her rib cage. The body jerks but there’s no gasp of breath, no nothing. Except George is shaking his fist in the air and wincing.

“That was dumb,” he says, “really dumb.”

“I can’t disagree,” Banks says, looking at the pale body that isn’t dead. “What kind of force do you suppose is needed against her diaphragm to create the reaction we’re looking for?”

“Hell, probably a jackhammer.”

Murray Bank’s eyes light up. “They’re prepping that area one block south to build the new children’s wing. Time for a field trip, my boy.”

Thirty minutes later, with a disgruntled and disbelieving construction worker in jeans and a hard hat in tow, the two doctors explain what they want the unionized ground worker to do.

“Is this Comedy Central’s Prank Parade?”

“I assure you, it is not. Can you do this?”

“It’ll kill her.”

“We don’t think so.”

“Not doing it unless you sign a waiver.”

“Is that all? No other hurdles?” Banks gives the man a severe look.


“That will do it as long as...Fuck me!” The beefy man just notices the other body lying in the room.

“What?” Banks asks alarmed. Was there some other thing the man had forgotten?

“Is that Wonder Woman lying naked over there?”

“Damn,” barks Banks. “I’m so used to naked bodies I don’t even see them anymore. George, some decorum for the heroines.”

George strides over to a drawer in a nearby steel workbench and pulls out four cover sheets used when relatives are brought in to identify their loved one’s remains. He covers up Wonder Woman and Destiny.

“Where were we, ah yes, the waivers.”

Another 45 minutes later, with the city’s lawyer present and all papers signed, the doctors lay Destiny down on a sheet on the floor to give the worker the best possible angle to her diaphragm. The rest of her body is covered with sheets. Everything but her head.

“Here goes nuttin,’ gents,” the man in the hard hat says. With both fists firmly wrapped around the handle of the gas powered non-hydraulic jackhammer, the man with the big belly starts up the machine and points the tip where Banks has drawn an X with a non-permanent magic marker. The noise is deafening in the enclosed room but the results are immediate. As soon as the jolting tip slams back and forth into Destiny’s diaphragm, the blonde heroine convulses and jerks to a 90-degree angle off the floor with her eyes wide open.

“What the fuck!” Destiny screams out and Banks and Constantine start cheering, link arms and dance in circle.

The construction worker stops the machine and after their mutual jig, Banks pays the man the $100 he promised him for his hours time. He goes on his way and the two doctors help a slightly disoriented Destiny up from the floor. She’s wrapped herself in a sheet and is shaking her head to clear out the cobwebs. They’re about to help her sit up on the autopsy table when she looks across it to see another figure lying on the table opposite her.

“Oh gross, who’s tha.......” Destiny’s eyes suddenly well with tears. “Oh no, oh Lord in Pleavallah, is that Wonder Woman? Who did this. Wait! There’s only one asshole I know capable of such cruelty and the power to make it stick. This is Rene Pascal’s work. It is, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” says Constantine first.

“Point me at him!”

“Well, nobody knows where he is exactly,” says George. “For now anyway.”

“Well, I’m just the girl to shove a GPS up his ass.”

“Before you go off on your mission of vengeance, Destiny. We need your help,” Banks say solemnly. “With Wonder Woman’s body. We can’t get that damn noose off her.”

“Hey! That noose, it’s her lasso!”

“Yes.”

“How long has she been dead?”

She was brought in around 2 a.m. and I haven’t run any tests to determine TOD, sorry, time of death yet, but I think the news broke about her death between 11 and midnight, depending on what channel you were watching.” The two doctors put their heads together jabbering happily that they’d been able to effect a miracle here today. They’re sharing questions together they want to ask her about Bylangian physiology. What did she have in her body that let her live.

Meanwhile, Destiny clutches the sheet around her and walks over to the prone body of the Amazon warrior. She looks into the eyes of the woman she had known for so short a time and for whom she’d developed such affection and admiration. The bulging eyes aspect from the choking was no longer present, but the limp tongue and blueish color still prevailed.

“Oh Diana,” she whispers too softly for the doctors to hear, putting her forehead against her heroic sister’s own forehead. “How hard you must have fought only to have it come to this. I know. I faced this monster and I will take up your banner, sister. And I won’t rest until Rene Pascal suffers for what he did to you.”

She looks at the coiled noose with a mixture of disgust and tenderness and grabs hold of the dangling end of it and clutches it to her breast. She knows there is magic in this smooth golden cord but she’s not sure how to draw its power. So she simply speaks her heart, looking down and focusing on the words. “But in truth, Amazon, I wish it was you who still lived. It’s only right that you would be the one to avenge this travesty. Are you still lingering in the area, Di? You’re still needed. You still have a role to play. Don’t give up on us. Don’t give up on you. You deserve to live. Believe it.”

Destiny looks up again and forces herself to search the glassy eyes of the hideously blue face before her. Well, it’s not really blue but blueish. The tint of is blue there but at least it’s not purple. If anything, actually the blue has a touch of pink within it. And then peering at the pupils, Destiny sees glassiness in the fish eyes shift and fuck her if there isn’t actually a spark of intelligence there. The wheezing, rasping wind from the throat of the woman before her actually flutters her lashes and Destiny begins to cry softly. “She’s not dead.”

“What?” Banks head comes up from the intense conversation he’d been having with George about who exactly had handled the body of Wonder Woman and whose DNA had to be accounted for in the autopsy results.

Had he heard her correctly? Could there have been two miracles today in this building? He looks over to see Wonder Woman’s face. There’s not a tinge of blue about it. It’s pink and the eyes, they’re slowly fluttering. “She is alive! What have you done? She’s alive!” Banks rushes over to the autopsy table and puts two fingers on her wrist and bows his head in concentration. There is a pulse!

“It was the rope I think,” Destiny says, weeping. “I just wished she was alive. I prayed for her to want to live and well, it worked.”

“...was........the......Lasso...of......Truth....” Wonder Woman’s voice is nothing but a weak croak but it is enough.

“But how?” George Constantine asks.

“No, don’t talk, Wonder Woman. Wait, you need to rest. You’ve experienced horrible trauma. George, get her some tepid water. Not too much.”

Wonder Woman looks at Destiny and mouths the words, “How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” admits Destiny. “Well, I knew it had magic. I just asked you to care. To believe.”

It’s 20 minutes and 20 small sips from the glass of water before Wonder Woman’s voice has the strength to explain the reason behind the miracle.

“You were right, Dee, it was the lasso that killed me and saved me at the same time. Pascal so wanted me dead while he was holding the lasso that he willed me to death before I actually died. He wanted me to orgasm and I did that too. His will overpowered me so completely because I was so weakened that he was sort of hoisted by his own petard. He willed me to death. If it had been a normal length of rope, I wouldn’t be talking to you now.”

“Well, then it’s cause for celebration,” Destiny declares. “Together we will search the Earth and make Pascal pay. And in your redemption, you will rise to your greatest glory ever.”

“No, Destiny. I am done. I am no hero. No champion. I will never be one again.”

“Come on, Wonder Woman, you’re upset. I’m sorry. You need to rest. This is not the time to discuss this.”

“This is the best time to discuss this. I am going home to Themyscira. I want to. I need to.
For how I behaved. For how the world sees me now. I have no power to influence anyone anymore. The littlest girl will be told of my disgrace. My lewd acts. My undying shame. There is nothing left for me in Man’s World. As sure as this lasso compels the truth, so does my heart compel me to face the truth. And that truth is I am damaged goods and will forever be. So yes, you take up the torch and carry it high. My days wearing the power of the eagle on this chest.are over. I only wish to go home and...and...beg that my heart forgets. But I am sure it won’t.”

The doctors and blonde dynamo Destiny stand beside the seated raven-haired woman in shock. All the light and excitement and joy of the two women’s resurrection has been eclipsed by the cloud of despair surrounding Wonder Woman. She stands and asks if there are any clothes that she might borrow. George goes to a locker filled with castoffs from the bodies of the deceased. Wonder Woman takes the pile and retreats to the ladies room to change.

“Do you think she’ll reconsider,” Banks asks Destiny.

“I can’t say for sure, but I’ve never felt such a sense of absolute defeat in my entire life. I think she means what she says.”

“It’s such a shame,” Constantine says. “All the good will and love and power she’s spread through the years and one man brings it all crashing down in the course of a day.”

Wonder Woman walks back in the room wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a old moth-eaten red sweater and pink platform shoes. She’s heard George’s comment.

“You’re right, Doctor Constantine. And the lesson in that is that when we are so haughty that we think nothing can touch us, than evil has an easy way in, like a lit runway pointing out where to land, where to hurt us, how to destroy us. We can hope to be better than that, stronger than that, wiser than that but it probably won’t happen. Good bye doctors. Good bye Destiny. I thank you for my life, sister. I just wish it had been worth saving.”

And with that Wonder Woman walks out of the autopsy room, out of the medical building and out of Man’s World as a superheroine forever.

* * *

Later that night, Diana Prince is packing the few things she cares about returning with to Theymiscira. Some favorite sandals, a few tops, a stuffed rabbit she’d won for herself at a carnival on the first weekend she’d ever come to Man’s World. There’s no makeup in her case, no pictures of friends, no wallet size photo of Steve, no trinkets or mementoes of her triumphs or tragedies during her years as America’s champion of right and might.

The phone rings and she sees it’s Steve’s number. She considers not picking it up but she supposes she should give some lame excuse for her disappearance to her boss.

“Hello?”

“Diana, it’s Etta. Where have you been all weekend? Do you know what’s happened.”

“Yes, I heard Wonder Woman died. Etta what are you doing at Steve’s apartment. This is his number.”

“I have lots to dish girlfriend. First, Wonder Woman’s not dead. It’s been in the news since this afternoon, silly. And that other heroine Destiny isn’t dead either apparently. Some miraculous thing about her having this special Bylangian preservation gland. I guess it kicked in after she got stabbed.”

“Why are you at Steve’s Etta?”

“That’s the thing, Diana. Steve’s kind of going through a hard time right now about Wonder Woman. He blames himself for her death and....”

“Where was Steve all day,” Diana interrupts with cold anger. “What was he doing while I...while Wonder Woman was going through hell?”

“We were in his office trying to track down possible suspects, using a cross list of...”

“All day? Even when it was clear who was behind this? Didn’t Steve think he might be able to help Wonder Woman somehow by showing up? Showing some concern?” Diana’s voice reaches a high pitched whine by the end of her tirade.

“Well, gee, Diana. Who put your panties in a bunch? It’s not like she died after all. Anyway, I think we, well he wanted to go,” Etta answers cooly.” but that Detective Abato said it’d be too many cooks spoiling the broth I think. It was his jurisdiction and stuff.”

“Abato waved him off on purpose?”

“Pretty much, Di. But here’s the thing. Even though Wonder Woman’s not really dead, Steve isn’t quite processing that information. He’ll be going to a sanitarium tomorrow. IADC is picking up the tab. I’m helping him get packed. He’s pretty out of it right now.”

“You’re a good friend to him, Etta.”

“Well, that’s another little news flash, Di. When Stevie gets all better, we’re going to be an item.”

“When did all this happen?” Diana stands in her apartment phone clutched to her ear, stunned by this news.

“It was our long day together. Let’s just say that we got a little worked up watching that webcast while Steve was trying to locate the source of it.”

“You guys had sex because you thought Pascal raping Wonder Woman was hot?!”

“Well, gee, Di, it kinda was - - a little. You know how it is.”

“You know how it is, Etta. How it really is? You’re nothing but a sick little whore hound who couldn’t hold onto a man with a leash around his cock! Burn in hell, fat ass!”

Diana Prince slams the phone down and then rips it out of the wall by the cord and throws it out the window. Her life in Washington, D.C. is now officially over.

* * *

Diana Prince is woken up on Tuesday morning by her ringing cell phone.

“Should have thrown that out the window too,” she mutters, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and stretching as she reads the screen on her phone. D.C. POLICE DEPT

“Hello?”

“Hello Diana, it’s Sal.”

“Hello, Sal. Can you answer a question for me before we get down to what you want?”

“Oh...uh sure...what’s up?”

“Why did you warn off Major Trevor from coming to help me, you, us on Sunday?”

“Well Diana, at the time we still weren’t sure if Pascal was the guy. In fact Pascal sent us on a wild good chase all over the metro area to keep us from getting to his house. Major Trevor was supposed to cross-check a list of chemical suppliers which I’m not sure he ever finished. Once Pascal started up the website, it was clear it was him”

“And once that it was clear, did you warn the Major off again?”

“What’s this all about Diana?”

“Answer the question, Sal.”

“I didn’t want him tromping all over the place and scaring off the suspect but I don’t think I warned him off at that point. I don’t’ remember specifically, It was a crazy day.”

“For everyone, Sal. A hellish day.”

“I know that. I know Wonder Woman took a hell of a....”

“Wonder Woman doesn’t exist anymore. Forget her. Thanks for the info. Goodbye Sal.”

“HEY! Diana, WAIT!” Sal’s shout stops Diana from disconnecting. “Jimmy and I would probably have been there at least two hours earlier if it weren’t for Trevor!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we were about eight minutes from Pascal’s place when he told us his guys had pinpointed the source of the website signal. It was up in Bethesda. Not that far from where he lived but it was a huge abandoned factory right next to the building he owned, the building he took out Destiny in, as it turned out. It seemed like a solid lead but it took us forever to check and clear that huge warehouse. That’s why we weren’t there to rescue you earlier. It was Trevor’s fault.”

“And then he still never came to the house once you two were inside with me. Nor did he send any agents,” Sal can hear the ice forming on Diana’s words.

“Yeah, I don’t know what was behind that.”

“He was too busy fucking his secretary.”

“Whoa!”

“I’m sorry Sal I’m leaving town today and I won’t be coming back, so if that’s all, I’ll say thanks for doing what you could.”

“Diana, we don’t know where Pascal is yet but we’re trying to build a case against him. For when we do find him. Can you meet me at his place. I’m going there now to search for clues. Is there anything there that would help?”

“You don’t have enough evidence for god sake?”

“The DA wants it to be air tight. And he wiped his hard drives on every computer in the place before he split. All the tapes he had of you and him, all that’s completely fried. At least everything in this place.”

“How about the fact that his face is in photo sets raping my ass that teenage boys are buying by the thousands? Isn’t that enough evidence?”

“There trying to do block any chance he can plead insanity so if there’s something that shows intent over a course of time....

“There is something!” Diana says with a touch of cold revenge. And I’m the only one who knows where it is.”

“Great, I’ll meet you there in 30 minutes, if that works.”

“Make it an hour,” says Diana. “I have to pick something up on the way.”

Sal is wandering around on the first floor of Pascal’s townhouse, looking into closets and banging on the walls for the hollow sound of a hidden wall safe when he hears the front door open. He goes to see if Diana has crossed the police tape and gotten past the guard stationed there to protect the crime scene. He is stunned to see Wonder Woman walk through the front door.

“I thought you were done with all this. A lot of rumors flying around...” Sal waves at the outfit then notices that it’s not nearly as form fitting as he recalls from just a week ago. The top sags a bit and the starred briefs are a little granny pants in style. “What is that a spare costume?”

“Well, the other one got so totally destroyed I had to go to a store for this.”

“Why did you bother?”

“Because I wanted to use this lasso,” she says. “And I couldn’t come in here as Diana and use it out in the open in case there were other detectives here trying to help you build your case.”

“What did you need the lasso for?”

“We’ll get to that in a minute,” Wonder Woman says, “let me show you something that will go a long way to proving that Rene Pascal systematically used his skills at neurologic chemistry in experiments on reducing brain function in unwilling coeds for years.”

“Shit, you have that?”

“Follow me.”

The costume might be second rate but following behind Wonder Woman as she walks up the stairs to the second floor even in blue granny panties was a joyous symphony of motion to behold. At the top of the stairs, she turns left and walks into Pascal’s study. Lifting up the snow globe of Paris she sees the memory stick lying underneath. When Sal goes to reach for it, the statuesque raven-haired beauty slaps his hand away.

“You don’t want to do that,” she says. “I don’t know how long the compound lasts but he treated that stick with a neural chemical inhibitor that started me on the road to ruin on Sunday. Made me foolish and impetuous and inept just when I couldn’t afford to be. I’m pretty sure it was how he took down the other three heroines, at first anyway.” Snatching a simple tissue from the box on the desk, Wonder Woman wraps it around the memory stick and puts it in Sal’s pocket.

“What’s on it?”

“Numbered experiments from years prior showing the effects of his inhibitors. Subject names, addresses, the works.

“That should stop any insanity plea on the spot,” Sal says. He puts his hands on Wonder Woman’s forearms and she backs away but not roughly and not angrily.

“Not here,” she says. Downstairs. In our room.”

Sal’s eyebrows go up and the two of them trek down to the basement by way of the secret door in the utility room. The lights are off and Sal is leading the way down the stone steps.

He just steps into the lab when he hears a whish behind him and Wonder Woman’s lasso falls over his head and is cinched around his chest.

“Hey, what’s this all abo....”

“Be quiet until I tell you to talk.”

The costume might be fake and it may look a little cheesy but the lasso is 100% Grade A magic. Sal shuts up and waits for her signal.

“What’s the real reason you told Major Trevor not to come to this house. You may answer the question.”

Sal tries to think of a way to put it nicely but the truth isn’t always pretty.

“I thought that the Major was a screw up and he would do something to either damage our case or get somebody hurt, including you. Especially you.”

Wonder Woman considers this, her heart beating a bit faster. She knew many people thought Steve lacked a certain edge of success, and that was true, but then again, his heart always seemed to be in the right place. And that always swayed Diana’s feelings. That and his good looks and attractive physical presence. She had a blind spot when it came to Steve, but that was over for good. When he got so hot watching her getting fucked by Pascal that he fucked Etta, that cleared up that little blind spot forever.

“Do you really not like me?”

“I do like you. I love you. And when I thought you’d been killed, I cried like a baby.”

The lump in Wonder Woman’s throat makes it hard for her to breathe for a moment. Here was another man whose heart was in the right place. And he had come to try to save her. Steve had nothing but excuses and it was eating him alive. Sal had acted at the cost of nearly his life and his partner’s. And when she most needed comfort and solace and humanity, it was Sal who provided them.

“Will you get over me when I leave Man’s World forever?”

“It will be hard. You’re an incredible force of nature and I am drawn to you. But I understand why you are leaving. You’ve been hurt too deeply. Your soul is torn and not yours to give anymore. It may never heal. Pascal has damaged it that much by making you do things to protect what never really needed to be protected. You could have shed Diana Prince at any time and created a new persona. Or not taken one and simple existed as Wonder Woman. The world would have gone on well enough. I don’t want to but I will get over you. The more important question is: Will you get over you?

Wonder Woman’s eyes fill with tears and she reaches forward to release the rope that pulls the harsh truth out of people. It falls off of Sal’s chest and falls to the floor. He steps forward and takes Wonder Woman in his arms and gives her a long sweet reluctant goodbye kiss. Her body relaxes into his and she squeezes him tightly, enjoying his shorter body, the heft of it and the absolute commonness of it. When he releases her, he steps back and turns to head up the stone stairway up into the light.

“Goodbye Diana. I hope you can forgive yourself. The rest of us can.” And then he is gone.

The mighty Wonder Woman stands there, looking around the space where her life ended as she knew it. Her lasso trails on the floor and her silhouette is framed in the doorway, her head drops to her chest with a sigh, a sad forlorn figure with a rope in her hands and the only thing in her heart is the sad truth. She will carry the burden with her home to Themyscira. She doesn’t know if the burden will break her or not. She doesn’t think she can bear it but you never know. She looks up again to the light filling the stone passageway. You never know. People can surprise you.


The End


If you like this story or have feedback you'd like to share, you can write your feedback here or contact me at [email protected] I try to respond to emails in a timely manner and welcome comments. Thanks again.

[patmac4]

fantastic story

[DrDominator9]

Thanks Patmac4. Glad you enjoyed it. Sorry it was so short.

[ksire_99]

Thanks for the fantastic story Dr. D!!!

[DrDominator9]

Now that this story has concluded I was wondering what people's overall reactions were?

[tmon]

Loved it!!

[Void]

Epic. Just. Epic.

I'm so pleased you completed the full arc for this, well done you for that. It is really emotive stuff - specially towards the end - and I relate to Zeta's comment about this bringing up a lot of different stuff. There is so much here... I'm going to struggle to compliment it all, but I really appreciate the genuine depth of this whole world and how you took that - writing it very well - through to the extreme end of this genre. Like I said when I first commented on this, it is really, really committed stuff and that sets it aside from anything else I've seen. At times it was great fun, at other times it was really quite painful, but it was always engaging. You had fantastic, awesome, consistent characters throughout and their depth really sucked me in for their many clashes.

I have some gripes here and there but they're only the kind of gripes I get when I really like something and I get really invested in it, if that makes any sense, so on the whole I'd say it's pretty much flawless. I'm conflicted about the ending, mainly because my fantasy heroine peril brain was battling against my regular fiction one - not to mention my emotional, sappy one - but on balance I think you went the best way. ***SPOILER*** As a reader I would have been euphoric if Pascal died at the end, much as I love him as a character, but again I think it adds to the commitment of the whole thing (not to mention the possibility for this world to throw up more) that he gets away. ***SPOILER OVER***

I respect long projects like these are really easy to let go of or lose direction with mid-way in, and it is equally easy to stop caring about the overarching complete story in favour of enjoying it in the short term, so big props to you for sticking it out and diligently keeping your eye on the end product. I will certainly return to this and maybe read it all from start to finish in the future. Big congrats on the whole thing, I think you've ended up with a beast of a story that you can be proud of.

What's next? I imagine after something like this the world must seem like your oyster in terms of being able to start any project from scratch. Any idea what you might look into now?

[DrDominator9]

I want to thank Void for his kind comments and apologize for not responding sooner. Work gets busy for me in the autumn. I also want to say thanks to everyone who took the time to post a response to this story. It was a long and delightful process writing it and I appreciate the support shown over the two-years it took to complete. I hope to be able to start new work soon and to provide shorter stories that run only a few chapters at most. I know what a huge commitment it is to read my extended stories but those who have followed them know I try to put together a series that makes the time it takes to read them worth the effort.

I do have another long series posted over at the Wizard's Lair website, my prime posting venue. It's called "Supergirl Captured by the Mob." Believe it or not, it's even longer than this WW series. It features SG for the first 15 chapters and then incorporates WW after that. My intention is to finish that series as well as to try to write and post shorter stories after that or concurrently with the conclusion of the SG series. Either way, you're not getting rid of me so easily. : )

Here's the link to my story page over at the Wizard's Lair:
http://www.superheroinecentral.com/~wiz ... inator.htm

There's no response mechanism to postings at that site but you can reach me via my email address:
[email protected]

See you around.

[tallyho]

Finally finished this - and what an absolute powerhouse of a story! Great characters, great detailed descriptions and a fast pace that mirrored the fast action. Didn't always work for me, but I stand by my earlier comments: there is an awful lot for new writers to learn here from the opening title to the last full stop.

(Just consider the title - yes, as a newbie you could post 'MY FIRST STORY' but it tells the reader nothing and almost scans as an apology before you have started. Look at this one - instantly it poses questions that make you want to read it to find out the answers - Does WW become a victim? If so , how? Does she triumph? Who were the other heroines that have been killed? How many have fallen? How did he do it? Who is the killer?
All that and more encompassed in just 7 words. Now if you have a choice of reading that or a post entitled 'My First Story' which would you choose? So rule one, pick a title at least, you can always apologise for your effort in the preamble of the post itself )

For new writers just look how Dr D threaded the story elements together - you had a four way simultaneous saga of the sexual torture (WW & Pascal), those witnessing it and enjoying it (sex shop gang), those witnessing it and horrified by it (Steve and Etta) and those trying to stop it (cops) - superbly done [though I will say at times the interlocking parts could have been spaced more significantly as sometimes Etta seemed in the sex shop! I'd advocate double or triple line spacing ] and its not just a case of changing the scene in each paragraph because Doc managed to keep the pace with a continuously emerging story that was unfolding simultaneously to all parties. Excellent job!

I would say to new authors though MIX UP YOUR EPITHETS! That is one aspect of the story I think Dr D himself could learn from! (CoAW! Arrrggggh!)

I do feel the police side of the story became a bit more implausible as the sexual element reached its climax, but it did find its feet again at the end, and I for one loved the ending, right up my street.

Some quality turns of phrase, some nice, natural, easy going dialogue (again new authors read back your dialogue and try and make it as natural as possible- if it sounds stilted when you say it out loud I wouldn't go with it!) that had a realistic feel to it, with a great characterization to even minor characters.

All that put in to a good and interesting story - a very good job indeed, well done Dr D.

[flagonforge]

a truly awesome story.

[DrDominator9]

Thanks again to all the readers who took the time to respond to my story with comments and critiques. Especially Tallyho for his in-depth analysis, helpful good will and frequent responses.

After a busy work-filled Fall I expect to be back with more heroine peril in a few weeks. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates it.

[tmon]

Wonder Woman involved story I hope!!!

[Mr. Pantyhose Lover]

Wow. I see that you have 30 chapters(or more) to this story "Wonder Woman and The Superheroine Serial Killer". That Superheroine Serial Killer really must've put all villains of The DC Universe into shame for what he did to Wonder Woman.

[rammbo]

This story is too long lost interest after the 5th chapter

[DrDominator9]

A pity. Ah well, can't please everyone. Thanks for at least sticking with it for 5 chapters. I appreciate the input.

[ksire_99]

This story is too long lost interest after the 5th chapter

You need an executive summary?

or

better yet, think about the effort it takes to PRODUCE something. Let us see your creative writing so we can judge you!

k

[tallyho]

This story is too long lost interest after the 5th chapter

I think you'll find it was as long as it needed to be in order to tell this story.

[DrDominator9]

For those interested in comparing writing styles, Rammbo's story is titled "Mary Marval is a Dirty Virgin." It's here in the Dungeon. And yes, it's shorter.

[tmon]

He also had one that got pulled do to underage involvement.

[ksire_99]

He also had one that got pulled do to underage involvement.

Figures, he would have a childish opinion.

[rammbo]

I never said this story was poorly written, i have my self wrote very long srories that i rewrote to be shorter. The Mary Marvel story is unfinished i told a friend on here that they can finish it. Since i will not be finshing it.

[tallyho]

Its fine to not like something but say WHY so the author can learn from it. When you haven't read it in the first place it becomes a bit of a pointless exercise to tell people that.
When we all write its with a story in mind that will be as long as it takes to express it. To say you gave up on it because its too long for you to read was only ever going to result in 'Oh' as a reaction. I've never read 'War and Peace' as its a monster read, but its pointless telling the author (if Tolstoy was alive) as the book is as long as it is. The problem is with me, not the book.

[digitalbleh]

lol people have their own opinions, i also found this story long. But only due to the fact it is written in posts on a forum, if it was a single page on a website it would of been nicer to read for me. This was a awesome story tho. Hopefully more stories come out.

[rammbo]

I did say why tallyho story is too long lost interest in it

[tallyho]

Yes but why did you lose interest?. If you started reading the complete story you could see how long it was before you started. If you started reading it when partially written then how did you know how long it would be?What I'm saying is -What changed your mind in those opening 5 chapters from when you decided to read it to when you decided to stop? Would you have preferred a faster pace, less characterisation of minor characters that you felt detracted from the story etc - what? That's the feedback thats useful for an author . It's too long is just meaningless really. And I'm not sure why you would lose interest when we have exactly what it says on the tin in those chapters - a heroine abduction and murder in progress whilst the good guys try and stop the killer.

You are perfectly entitled to not like it, I myself had several issues with aspects of it as I stated above, but I would just urge you to consider what a lack of interest due to its length actually tells the author. Not a lot is my contention.
I don't have much time to read long stories myself- I prefer shorter ones by and large- but I wouldn't bother just posting that to authors.

[DrDominator9]

Let me weigh back in on this subject of story length, if I may. Believe it or not, I never start out a story thinking to make it as long as possible. And I admit that yes, I do sometimes regret that they run so long. (The scrolling alone can make it annoying to even the most patient reader.) But what I do start out thinking about is telling a story in a logical way.

So when I devised the concept of Wonder Woman (and the other superheroines involved in this tale) succumbing to a villain, I wanted to make her (and the others') defeat seem plausible. And this heroine doesn't go down easily, not in my conception of her. That is one reason for the length of this story. It took a lot to bring WW to her knees in a way that I felt a reader not just looking for a fast and easy take-down would appreciate. Her physical and psychological erosion was one that I carefully laid out. And being a heroine, she had a resurgence of will on several occasions.

And yes, I do enjoy a good heroine beat down so that's another reason for the length. I don't know about others but when I'm enjoying a story written by a someone who knows how to describe a fight scene or a take-down in an exciting and original way, I don't want it to be over too quickly.

That being said, I am certainly aware how daunting it can be to face a story file that just goes on and on...and for that I do apologize. However, once you get involved in my work, I think most readers would agree it actually does draw you into a world of characters and situations that are richly developed and worth the effort.

Now for the good news... I am trying to finish up my Supergirl Captured by the Mob series (over at Wizard's Lair website), a story that (god forgive me) is even longer than this Wonder Woman Serial Killer story. (Wonder Woman is also prominently featured in the story after Chapter 19 and both heroines get hooked on drugs). Once that story is completed, I will be concentrating on shorter heroine peril stories of only a few chapters, some maybe even just one chapter! I look forward to sharing those stories here. In the meantime, you can enjoy my Supergirl story via this link.

http://www.superheroinecentral.com/~wiz ... inator.htm


I thank all those again who have taken the time to comment. It's what us writers live on and even constructive negative comments are worthwhile. (Sometimes more than the critiques that point out what you like.)