Hell in Paradise  

By DarkTymes

The New, Original
Wonder Woman
Season 1, Episode 14*:

Hell in Paradise
or: I Feel Like Chikan Tonight
by DarkTymes

“So, Diana, what do you think of Hawaii?” Major Steve Trevor asked his secretary as they stood on a hotel balcony overlooking the Pacific Ocean. He glanced at Yeoman Diana Prince and not for the first time wished she’d do something to make herself look a bit more glamorous. She was a pretty enough girl, but here they were, attending an important War Bonds fundraising bash thrown by Lionel Carradine, one of the biggest industrialist movers and shakers in America, and Diana had come dressed like some farmer’s daughter!

All right, it wasn’t that bad. The light green cocktail gown she wore was fine, but the way it hung on her, it might as well have been a burlap sack with the word “Feed” stenciled on the back. The girl just had no idea how to dress for social engagements, and considering the war going on, the boys fighting the good fight could use all the shapely, feminine encouragement they could get. I bet Wonder Woman could teach her a thing or two about glamour, he thought. Maybe I should ask her next time I see her…

“Oh, Steve, it’s so beautiful!” Diana said, and readjusted the wide-framed glasses that always seemed about to fall off her pert little nose. “It reminds me so much of Paradise I—” She stopped herself before she could finish the sentence. She’d been about to say “Paradise Island,” home of the Amazon warrior-women to whom she was Princess. Good thing, then, that I stopped myself, she thought.

“Paradise?” Steve asked innocently, and nodded. “I guess you could call it that.” He looked out at the ocean. “Still, it’s not half as beautiful as Paradise Island…” His voice trailed off, and he sighed.

Diana smiled. “Thinking about Wonder Woman, Steve?” Then she realized, why bother asking? He was always thinking about Wonder Woman—just like she was always thinking about him. If only she could work up the nerve to tell him directly…

Steve smiled. “It’s that obvious, huh?” He shrugged. “I guess you can read me like a book by now.”

Cover to cover, she thought. But it’s a book I never get tired of rereading. “Well, I guess it’s only natural,” Diana said. “A handsome Army Major like you, flitting around with a radiant Amazon princess…” She blushed. “I-I’m sure you’d make a lovely couple.”

The comment took him by surprise, but Steve decided this wasn’t the time or place to discuss it. “And what about you?” he asked instead, and smiled devilishly as he pointed at the ballroom behind them. “Any handsome service men in there you’ve got your eye on?”

Her blush grew brighter, and she again rescued her glasses from taking the plunge as she stared at her feet. “Oh, Steve…I mean, we’re supposed to be here on business. General Blankenship is counting on us, and with President Roosevelt arriving tomorrow…”

He reached out and lifted up her chin. “Diana, it’s okay to enjoy yourself once in awhile. It doesn’t have to be all business.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m just not very comfortable around parties.” It was more than that. The last gala she’d been to with Steve had been down in Argentina a month ago, and that had been a complete disaster. Bad enough she’d spent the evening avoiding a would-be Casanova trying to seduce her, but then she’d had to change to Wonder Woman in order to rescue Steve from a gang of Axis thugs, only to end up being groped, roped and chloroformed for her troubles.

Diana wrinkled her nose and frowned. Ever since her encounter with Fausta, the so-called “Nazi Wonder Woman,” it seemed like every Axis agent she ran into carried a bottle of chloroform, just for the purpose of subduing her. It was happening more and more these days, and all thanks to the stooge working for Fausta who’d bound her with her magic lasso and forced her to admit she was powerless to resist the anesthetic. In fact, with all the fumes she’d been inhaling of late, she’d half-expected the cowboy “bushwhackers” she’d run into the other day to drug her after they captured her. Oddly, a part of her had been disappointed when they didn’t…

“Look, Diana,” Steve said, jostling her thoughts, “I’ve got to do some mingling before people forget they’re here to support the war effort and start wandering off. You should do some yourself. The bonds won’t sell themselves, you know.”

“All right, Steve,” she said. “In a minute.”

He nodded and headed back inside, the balcony door opening enough for her to hear the ten-piece orchestra launch into a rendition of Benny Goodman’s “Sing, Sing, Sing” before it closed behind Steve. The music was extremely loud—too loud for her tastes, and she’d never mastered that dance called “jitterbugging”—so Diana elected to remain alone with her thoughts. But only for a moment. Her Amazon hearing suddenly picked up the voices of three men on the balcony below her—and she didn’t like what they were saying.

“That cripple Roosevelt will never know what hit him,” said one man. “Well, he will, I guess, once that bullet catches him right between the eyes.”

“And with the country thrown into chaos after his death, no one will realize Tojo has launched a second, even greater assault on America until the Japanese are sweeping into California!” Diana instantly recognized the speaker, and gasped. It was Lionel Carradine, the man hosting tonight’s War Bonds gala!

But it was the third voice that shocked her. “Only if you avoid shouting it at the top of your voice, Carradine-san,” said a man with a heavy Japanese accent. “My men and I would prefer not having attention drawn to us until after the mission has been completed.” A Japanese spy—on American soil! And plotting with Lionel Carrdine to assassinate President Roosevelt!

Diana glanced over her shoulder. The ballroom door was still shut, so no one would see her take action. She removed her glasses and began spinning gracefully on the balls of her toes. The spin became faster and faster, and the bobby pins pinning up her hair flew away, allowing raven tresses to cascade around her shoulders. Then, in a flash of lightning, Diana Prince disappeared, replaced by her red-white-and-blue costumed alter ego: the Amazon princess called Wonder Woman!

The spin ended, and Wonder Woman lightly touched the magic belt around her waist, then the golden tiara that rested high on her forehead—an old habit of ensuring everything was in place. Then she grasped the balcony railing and leaped over, to land softly on Carradine’s balcony. His door was also closed, but she wasted no time in throwing it open and striding into the room.

He was alone, standing by a desk on which sat a leather valise, open to reveal a stack of files marked “Confidential,” and a small globe made of green-tinted glass. The globe meant nothing to her, but the files were from the War Department—that’s how Carradine must have learned of Roosevelt’s upcoming trip to Hawaii!

Carradine looked shocked. “Wonder Woman!” he bleated. “What are you doing here? Surely I’ve done nothing that requires your presence.” His look of surprise turned into a wolfish grin as he stared hard at her long, shapely legs and ripe bosom. “Although, I must admit, seeing you here in the veritable flesh almost makes me wish I had…”

She placed her hands on her hips and tilted back her head to look down her nose at him. She knew some people thought it was a haughty gesture, but she didn’t care—after all, she had the upper hand here; she could do as she pleased. “I overheard your plot, Mr. Carradine, so don’t try playing the innocent with me. It’s traitors like you that make the war against the Axis powers so difficult—traitors out to stop good men from accomplishing good deeds.” She reached for the slim golden rope attached to her belt. “But once I have you bound with my magic lasso, you’ll be compelled to tell the truth about your accomplices, your plans for President Roosevelt’s murder—everything.”

“Oh, dear,” Carradine said with false fear, then frowned. “You’re quite the avenging cheerleader for the Allies, aren’t you?” He sighed. “How dreadfully unfortunate…for you.”

Before she could react, he grabbed up the glass globe and hurled it at her feet. The globe shattered on the floor, and a cloud of green smoke billowed around her.

“G-gas!” Wonder Woman gasped, and in doing so filled her lungs with the cloying fumes. She staggered back, the room spinning around her, and struggled to keep her legs from buckling. “So…strong…can’t fight it…” She stumbled into a chair and just managed to keep from following it to the floor.

“You have a sharp tongue, my girl,” Carrdine said with a smile. “But my friends from the Land of the Rising Sun possess some…interesting methods sure to dull its edge.”

“F-friends…?” Wonder Woman mumbled, her vocal chords suddenly too tight to form words. “W-where…?”

As if in answer, a hand that looked to be the size of a canned ham shot out from behind the curtains and clamped over her mouth, the fingers digging hard into her cheeks. His other hand encircled her waist and pulled her close. Wonder Woman cursed herself—how could she have been so stupid as to not check for traps? Her anger at Carradine had distracted her too much.

“Mmmmff!!” she cried weakly as the man reached inside her bustier and began pawing at her breasts with his free hand. “Nnnf!” She pulled at her fleshy gag with both hands, but could get no leverage. The gas had turned her muscles to jelly.

“What shall I do with her, Carradine-san?” said her captor. It was the Japanese spy she’d overheard.

“Just hold onto her until your men arrive, Kito-san,” he replied. “She’s not going anywhere. She’s completely at our mercy.” He grinned. “Unfortunately for this luscious prize, Lionel Carradine isn’t known for being merciful…”

“NNMMMFF!!” Wonder Woman yelled.

“Scream all you want, girl,” Carradine taunted. “Resist all you want. But with the orchestra playing, no one can hear you; no one can help you. Not even your chivalric Major Trevor.” He smiled hideously. “Too bad. He’s going to miss one hell of a show.”

The door to the right opened, and six Japanese men, all dressed in black, swept into the room. They said nothing—their leader merely looked to Carradine, who nodded. Then they glided across the room, pausing only long enough to admire her bountiful curves—and her futile struggles—before they attacked.

Their hands were everywhere: pulling at her eagle-decorated bustier to squeeze her breasts, stroking her inner thighs, pinching her ass, slipping inside her star-spangled shorts to toy with her mound. Sensations of intense pain and overwhelming pleasure washed over her like breakers pounding a shoreline; combined with the gas she’d inhaled, it was impossible for her to think straight. She couldn’t utter even a cry for help—all she could do was moan into the sweaty hand covering her mouth, bucking and twisting as callused fingers ran across her supple flesh.

“In case you’re wondering what is happening, Princess,” Carradine said, “allow me to explain. My friends are known as the Chikan: an organization dedicated to the sensuous pursuit of fondling beautiful women—on trains, on buses, in alleys—and always without their prey’s consent. The struggle, you see, is half the fun. And you, my dear, are without a doubt the most beautiful, most powerful woman any of us have ever seen.” He grinned. “I imagine your struggles will be monumental.”

Wonder Woman’s blue eyes widened. “NNNNFFFF!!”

There was the sharp tug at her waist, and she dimly realized that her magic belt had been torn away; she heard a clatter of metal as it hit the floor. Then hands were pulling down her shorts, and the thick fingers that had played along the edges of her lips now slid into her quivering mound and savagely thrust upward. Her fleshy gag fell away as Kito dropped his hand to roughly knead her aching breasts, and Wonder Woman arched her back in ecstasy, moaning loudly, only to be stifled as a coarse handkerchief was forced deep into her mouth. Then her arms were pulled behind her back, and she gasped as her magic lasso was quickly used to bind together her wrists and elbows. Stripped of her belt and bound by a man—now she was truly powerless.

The man rubbing her vagina continued to work on her, breaking down her resistance as he forced a third, then fourth finger inside her, and Wonder Woman soon found herself willingly grinding her buttocks against his comrade’s stiffened penis, in time with each upward thrust of his hand. Dimly, she knew what would happen if she lost control, if she allowed them to deprive her of what little strength she still possessed, but the pleasure she was experiencing soon overwhelmed any thoughts of escape.

Like sharks scenting blood, the other Chikan members closed in, squeezing her ample breasts, pinching and twisting the tender nipples until they turned a bright red, running their hands over her taut stomach, thrusting their fingers into her mouth to force the gag even further back to lessen her cries of protest. Unable to break free, to resist, Wonder Woman stopped struggling and waited for the end. Her eyes glazed over, the lids slowly closing as her pupils rolled upward.

And then, with a moan so loud that it forced the gag from her mouth and seemed to fill the small chamber, Wonder Woman finally succumbed. Hot, passionate juices flowed from her long-abused mound, streaming over her tormentor’s hand and down her legs. At the same moment, she felt a sticky warmth spreading across her buttocks—Kito had climaxed in time with her.

Wonder Woman slumped in the Chikan’s arms, the strength drained from her body. She shuddered as the men continued to work on her, each now taking turns penetrating her with their hands. They seemed intent on making sure she would be too weak to offer any sort of resistance. She gasped as a cum-slickened hand was suddenly thrust into her mouth. Unable to stop herself, she moaned softly in ecstasy and licked the man’s fingers, dimly recognizing the taste of her own passions.

“All right, I think that should be enough,” Carradine said. “I rather doubt our comely Amazon will be any trouble now. Excellent work as always, gentlemen.”

Wonder Woman offered no resistance as she was passed along to the industrialist. It was taking all her remaining strength just to keep from passing out, now that the magic had been drained from her.

“Our services are always at your disposal, Carradine-san,” one of the Chikan said. From the stain on the crotch of his pants, Wonder Woman realized that this was Kito. She tried to utter some curse at him, but all she could do was move her lips soundlessly.

“Your services are always welcome, Kito-san,” Carradine said. “But now I think it’s time you were on your way. Your launch is waiting at the dock to return you to your submarine. Good luck on your mission.”

The traitor exchanged courteous bows with the men, and the Chikan hurried down the stairs. Once they were gone, Carradine looked down at his captive.

“And now, my girl,” he said ominously, “it’s time we were also on our way. Tomorrow is a big day, and I’m not about to have you ruin it for me.” He roughly pushed her toward the desk, and bent her forward over the polished wood, holding her in place by crushing himself against her. She felt his penis harden against the base of her spine. Wonder Woman moaned—did he plan to rape her, to finish what the Chikan started? Fearfully, she looked over her shoulder.

Carradine pulled a handkerchief and a small brown-glass bottle from the pockets of his tuxedo jacket. He uncorked the bottle and splashed a liberal amount of its liquid contents on the cloth. “This should keep you docile for awhile,” he remarked. “Or so the Nazis claim. I’ve been hoping I’d have a chance to see for myself.”

The helpless Amazon gasped. “Ch-chloroform…n-no…” She tried to struggle, but only succeeded in rubbing her bound wrists against Carradine’s erection. She tried to yell for help, but he clamped the handkerchief over her face, holding it tightly over her nose and mouth with one hand while the other grabbed a fistful of her dark tresses and forced her head back.

“N-NNMMMMFFF!!” she protested. “MMRRFF! Mff!!” Her struggles intensified, her cries for help rose in volume, but quickly enough both began to fade under the anesthetic’s powerful influence. A few weak mmmffs penetrated the folds of the thick cloth, then trailed away. Her body went slack, her eyes slowly closed, but she could still hear the voice of her tormentor.

Carradine chuckled. “I see the rumors are true. A good thing to know, should I ever have the pleasure of running into this ‘Wonder Girl’ I’ve been hearing about lately. I understand she’s quite a wildcat in need of taming, too…”

Again, Wonder Woman felt a sticky warmth gush between her buttocks, and knew that Carradine had climaxed. With a shuddering groan, the voluptuous Amazon welcomed the darkness that closed over her thoughts.

* * *

She awoke slowly on the deck of Carradine’s yacht, her thoughts still fuzzy from the drug, her body still aching from the abuse it had suffered. She was aware of the cold wooden flooring under her, of the fact she’d been stripped naked during her forced slumber, and of the stiffness in her limbs, held fast by lengths of rope. Her mound still burned, from both the hands of the Chikan—a brutally sensual touch she found herself missing, oddly enough—and the crotch rope that was now stretched tautly through the lips, fastening her wrists to the bindings wound around her waist. The slightest movement of her hands sent waves of painfully sharp ecstasy coursing through her.

A cool ocean breeze caressed her tender flesh, and she sighed with pleasure, her skin prickling at its soft touch. The sound, however, came out deeply muffled, and she realized that her mouth had been packed tightly with a number of silk handkerchiefs. She could feel the cleave gag that held them in place—the cloth bit deeply into the sides of her lips, and was secured to the back of her head with thick knots.

“Awake at last, I see,” said a familiar voice from above.

Blinking a few times to clear her vision, Wonder Woman opened her bright blue eyes and looked up. As she’d expected, Carradine was standing over her. His face was hidden in shadow, but from the light that shone in his eyes, and the triumphant tone of his voice, she could tell he knew he had won.

Rough hands clamped down on her shoulders, and she was hauled to her feet by a group of rough-looking sailors, then held in place before the ropes lashing her ankles together could cause her to topple. She turned her head to find Carradine leering at her, his eyes focused on her heaving bosom. He reached out and took hold of her right breast, brutally kneading it as she struggled, his fingers pinching the already erect nipple until he forced a small squeal from her lips.

“Such a shame,” Carradine said pleasantly. “Such a waste of perfectly good flesh. I could have made a killing with you on the white slavery market.” He reached out and yanked on the crotch rope, pulling it back and forth through her burning mound. “But c’est la vie, eh, my pretty?” Just as Wonder Woman felt as though she were about to pass out, he let go, and she slumped into the sailors’ arms.

“So where are we takin’ her, Mr. C?” one of the sailors asked.

With black spots dancing before her eyes, Wonder Woman looked around. She could just make out the outline of Maui on the horizon, which meant the boat was heading farther into the Pacific.

“What do you do with nosy parkers, Mr. Kredge?” asked the traitor. “You just don’t pack them away somewhere, do you? Of course not.” He gestured at the water around them. “You dump them at sea, so they never trouble you again.”

Wonder Woman’s cry of astonishment could be clearly heard, even through the thick gag.

* * *

She was tossed down a short flight of wooden steps, into the hold, to land on a pile of discarded tarpaulins and equipment. The impact drove the air from her lungs, and she lay there, stunned, as the door above was slammed shut and locked.

The respite was only temporary; she knew that. Once the boat had arrived at some point where Carradine felt he wouldn’t be disturbed, she’d be hustled back on deck and tossed over the side, probably with a concrete block shackled to her ankles.

Well, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

She glanced around her prison. There wasn’t much to work with: rods and reels bolted to the walls, tackle boxes scattered across the floor, a large refrigerator presumably used to store the day’s catch. Wonder Woman’s eyebrows rose. She had no idea Carradine was such an avid fisherman. But wait—the tackle boxes. There should be something in there, like a knife or a pair of scissors.

Wonder Woman rolled onto her knees, fighting the sway of the boat as it cut through the waves. The ropes lashed around her ankles, and around her calves, kept her from standing, so she had to settle for inching her way across the floor. The going was slow, her progress halted every time the boat swayed, causing her to involuntarily yank on the crotch rope. The pain she felt was both excruciating and exhilarating, and she found herself starting to enjoy the sensation.

But then a strong wave hit the boat, and Wonder Woman’s weight shifted. She fell on her side, unable to stop herself from drawing on the rope like she was reining in a runaway horse. The raven-haired princess moaned loudly into her gag as her temple caught the edge of a tackle box, and a wave of weakness overcame her. Then darkness descended.

* * *

She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious, but figured it couldn’t have been long. Regardless, her luck couldn’t hold out much longer. Groggily, she raised her head, then struggled to sit up, ignoring the nausea that churned in her stomach—she needed to focus. She inched her way over to the tackle box, and sat with her back to it, using her fingertips to ease open its top. By touch alone, she made her way through the contents until she felt the razor edge of a knife—a large one, by the feel of it.

Gingerly, she stood it on its handle, and began sawing through the ropes binding her wrists. Again, the crotch rope slowed her work, and a few times she felt on the verge of blacking out. But, eventually, she succeeded in her task, and the ropes parted. Soon enough, she wriggled out of her bonds, tossed aside her silken muzzle, and sat against a bulkhead, rubbing circulation back into her aching wrists and ankles.

But that’s it, now, she thought grimly. My Amazon strength is gone, unless I can retrieve my magic belt.

She glanced at her mound, the flesh around it still beet-red and tender from the punishment she’d received. For a moment, her fingers lightly traced the edge of her lips, and a small shudder ran through her body. But then she shook her head. Yes, self-love would be an easy way to stoke her depleted powers—it was one method by which her Amazon sisters recovered their strength after rough war games sessions back on Paradise Island—but the thought of one of Carradine’s greasy, half-witted goons walking in and watching while she pleasured herself made her pass on the idea. At least for the time being.

It’s far more important that I escape, she thought. And warn Steve of Carradine’s assassination plot for President Truman before it’s too late. She crept up the stairs and gently tried the door handle; to her surprise, it was unlocked. Carradine must be supremely confident if he thought I was completely out of the game, Wonder Woman thought with a grim smile. How typical for a man. When I have the chance, I’ll be happy to teach him the cost of being so arrogant...

She spotted another set of stairs at the end of the cramped hallway, and headed for it. She walked on tiptoes, pressing her hands against the walls to steady herself as the boat cut through the waves.

Wonder Woman hadn’t gone far when she heard voices approaching, and saw the shadows of two men descending the stairs. Desperately, she tried the door closest to her, and was rewarded with it swinging open. She jumped inside and closed the door, pressing her ear to the wood. She heard the voices pass on the other side, then continue down the hall. Wonder Woman breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” a voice suddenly whispered in her ear. Before she could turn, a meaty hand clamped over her mouth, while another slid between her legs.

“NNMMFF!!” she cried, pulling at the fleshy muzzle with both hands. But she didn’t have the strength to pry it loose.

Thick fingers slid across her mound as she was pulled farther into the room, and then she was pushed onto a small bed, its rusted springs groaning under her weight.

Wonder Woman turned, ready to fight, but her attacker just stood at the end of the bed, gazing at her admiringly. A thick tongue darted from between chapped lips as he studied her curves, stared at the way her breasts rose and fell with each breath. The movement of his right hand caught her attention, and she watched as he stroked himself, his manhood pressing against the zipper of his battered jeans like an animal throwing itself against the bars of its cage.

“You’re one’a Mr. Carradine’s girls, aint’cha?” the man asked, his voice just above a whisper.

That will be the day, she thought. “Why did you say I shouldn’t be in here?” she asked.

He moved closer, climbing onto the bed. Wonder Woman sat up, noticing how he was talking to her vagina now, not even looking at her face. “Mr. Carradine don’t like it when Willie touches his property. Says he always winds up damagin’ it. Then it’s no good to him anymore.”

“Then I’d better leave before that happens,” she said, and moved to roll off the bed.

But Willie wasn’t having it. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Before the Amazon could resist, his thick fist crashed against her left temple, stunning her. He struck her again, then twice more. Wonder Woman’s eyes rolled upward behind delicate lashes as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

“You got a real pretty face, girly,” Willie grunted. “You keep still an’ maybe Willie won’t mess it up…too much.”

Then he was grabbing her knees and spreading her legs wide. Wonder Woman moved to push him away, but a sharp uppercut against her chin snapped her head back. She groaned, stars exploding behind her closed eyelids.

“I warned you, girly,” Willie said. “Now Willie will have ta do ya the ugly way.”

Wonder Woman arched her back high as he forced his way into her. In her mind, she pictured Steve Trevor.

* * *

Steve was deep inside her, thrusting so hard she couldn’t help but wonder if her pelvis would break under the jackhammering pressure. But she was riding him just as hard, her legs locked around his waist, guiding his motions, cresting each wave of passion, then sliding down into the next valley. His breath was coming in short, ragged gasps, the stink of his sweat making her lightheaded. And incredibly aroused.

But she could feel power building inside her again—like the power she gained from the magic belt, but different. More natural. More sensuous. But she wasn’t quite there—not yet.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, Wonder Woman twisted him to one side savagely, putting herself on top. She slapped his haunches, then squeezed her thighs, drawing the force of his orgasm into herself, draining the energy from him as he willingly gave it.

The Power was there now.

“Steve,” she moaned. “Oh, Steve…”

His hands suddenly closed around her throat, and Wonder Woman found she couldn’t breathe. Steve flipped her onto her back, thrusting harder and harder as he squeezed her windpipe, pinning her head to the mattress. Her fists beat against his hands, but she was on the verge of passing out, too weak to free herself. Her hands fluttered uselessly onto the bed.

And yet, a part of her was turned on the asphyxiation. She gasped as the Power continued to build, beyond even her tolerance. Her nipples stood erect, aching as Steve’s hands continued to throttle her; her breaths came in small wheezes; her loins were on fire. Black spots danced before her eyes as the flames spread throughout her body. She was consumed by the fire. She was the fire.

And then—

* * *

It was as if a bomb had gone off. There was an explosion of lightning, and Willie was hurled across the cabin. And when the light faded, Wonder Woman looked down to see that her costume had been fully restored, with the exception of the magic belt and lasso. But she didn’t need the belt. Her aching breasts, her inflamed mound—all her injuries had healed. But how?

“It’s magic,” she whispered. And she was right. It was tantric magic. Sex magic. She’d heard the term once or twice since coming to Man’s World, but had known about it on Paradise Island under a different name; her sister Amazons swore by its healing powers. They practiced it often. Very often. Almost daily. Diana had never experienced it herself until now, but having done so she couldn’t wait for another opportunity to present itself. Maybe I should ask Steve the next time I see him, she mused.

The sound of running feet in the hallway caught her attention, and Wonder Woman leapt from the bed, eager for battle. She crashed through the door and rushed headlong into the pack of sailors, her feet and fists lashing out to break bones and shatter teeth. She was a raven-haired juggernaut, beautiful and unstoppable, and no one could escape her path of destruction as she fought her way up the stairs and onto the yacht’s deck.

Carradine was waiting for her, gun in hand.

Wonder Woman tossed aside the last of the unconscious sailors and strode toward him. “That won’t stop me,” she said. She raised her arms level with her magnificent breasts, prepared to use her Feminum bracelets to deflect the bullets she expected him to fire.

“I didn’t think it would,” he said. “But it will stop you from gathering any intelligence on tomorrow’s operation. I’ll never aid you in saving Roosevelt.” And with that he turned the gun and pointed it at the side of his head.

“No!” Wonder Woman cried, and leapt the remaining feet. Before Carradine could pull the trigger, she snatched the gun away, bent the barrel in half, and tossed it into the ocean. Then she backhanded the industrialist, and watched with a satisfied grin as he crashed unconscious to the deck.

She found her golden lasso and magic belt in the safe in Carradine’s cabin. The belt restored her strength to full power; the lasso forced Carradine to spill the beans about the attempt on Roosevelt’s life, and the details of Japan’s plot to invade the American mainland. Then she radioed the Navy to come pick up the boatload of traitors, and to let the War Department know there was an invasion to halt. Then she sat down to wait, and thought about Steve Trevor.

A liberal amount of slow, none-too-gentle self-love helped her pass the time.

Steve was waiting for her at Pearl Harbor when the Navy cruiser arrived at the dock in the morning. She bounded down the gangplank and threw her arms around him.

“It’s good to see you again, Wonder Woman,” he said, smiling. “It’s always good to see you.”

“Oh, I feel the same way, Steve.” She eyed him carefully. “Now tell me the truth: have you thought about me while you’ve been enjoying Paradise?”

“I…” he started. He grunted. “You know, Diana—my secretary—asked me that very same question last night. If I was thinking about you, I mean,” he added. “Not about her. I mean, Diana is a nice girl and all…”

“And what did you say?” she asked playfully.

He grinned. “I told her Paradise just wasn’t Paradise without Wonder Woman around.”

Wonder Woman blushed. “Why, thank you, Steve. And speaking of Paradise…” She slid her arm around his waist and started to lead him away from the dock. “When you were recuperating on Paradise Island after you crashed there, did you ever hear my sisters talk about the wonderful healing powers of tantric magic?”

“No,” Steve replied with a wolfish smile. “But if you’re mentioning it, I have a feeling it’s something I’ll want to hear all about.”

The raven-haired seductress grinned. “Oh, you’ll do more than just hear about it, Major Trevor,” she promised. “But you may need the strength of an Amazon to survive the experience…”


*In geek continuity terms, Vladi, this story takes place after “Wonder Woman in Hollywood,” the last episode of Season 1.