By Dr. Dominator
Supergirl Captured by the Mob
Part 29 - Domination is the Name of the Game
By Dr. Dominator
Note: The Supergirl character and name as well as Superman, Wonder Woman and Diana Prince are the property of DC Comics. Tony Bonano and his crew as well as Sergei Zhukovia are properties of Dr. Dominator and cannot be used without permission. This story is simply meant as entertainment and should be read only by consenting adults of 18 years or older. Violence and rape are never an answer to any situation.
The editing room in Tony's headquarters in Brooklyn is one floor below the jail cell that holds Wonder Woman. The room is dark and soundless with the audio turned off for the moment. Three faces watch the monitors with rapt attention. All three are wincing a bit through their smiles at the scene being played before them: Superman is being raped in the mouth and ass by two underage trannies.
"Tony, "Carmine says, breaking the silence, "you gotta be the sickest fuck on the planet." He shakes his head as he sees the Man of Steel's eyes bulge with horror. "Who thinks up shit like this?"
"I'm seeing it but I don't believe it," Stevie adds. "I mean, I was in the room with them and I didn't have a clue they were shemales! I kinda expected them to, you know, give him a drilling in the ass...but with strap-ons, not fucking meat poles of their own! Christ, that sorry bastard won't be able to look in a mirror for the rest of his life if he has an ounce of self-respect! How does he face the public after we share this with the networks?"
"I'd say that's his problem, Stevie," Tony replies. "As long as he stays out of my hair, I don't give a rat's ass! The girls, excuse the expression, did a great job, didn't they?"
Ignoring that remark, Carmine asks,"You don't think he'll come back after us once you let him go?"
"I don't think he will," Tony says. "He doesn't know what kind of nasty things we can still throw at him, which I will impress upon him before we let him go. Plus, his ego's got to be totally fucked up after all he's been through. Should take him a while to pull his shit together if he ever does. Plus, he's got one more humiliation to go through before he gets freed."
"Another one?" Stevie can't believe it as he watches the face of Yolanda as it beams with utter delight as he/she climaxes inside Superman's butt. Got to remember to go to a zoom on that and then cut to Superman's face of horror with the next shot.
"Yeah, Lex Luthor is coming by in two hours for a session with Supergirl and Wonder Woman and Superman."
"Lex Luthor is going to fuck Superman?" Carmine knows the criminal mastermind was a sick bastard but he didn't thing he swung that way, even to get revenge on Superman. Of course, he wouldn't totally put it past him either.
"In a manner of speaking, Carmine, but not the way you're thinking," Tony replies. "He explained a little bit about how he wanted to play it and I don't foresee any problems with it."
"You think Wonder Woman is ready?" Stevie's seen what Sergei's been doing to the Amazon princess and while it was brutally relentless, he wasn't sure the raven-haired princess was completely broken yet. "And is Supergirl going to go along with this, too? That seems pretty chancy, Ton." Stevie knows she's been smoking crack this morning but he's not sure how she'll react to a scene with Wonder Woman, Superman and Lex, her cousin's worst nemesis.
"It could be a bit dicey, but I'll be there and I'll be packing," he brings his gun out from the holster at the small of his back and holds it aloft. "Besides, as I said, Luthor explained what he wanted to do and both girls should cooperate. Not only that, but he's bringing a little gift for me that can definitely help our business in the long run, big time."
"Like what?" Carmine, as usual, doesn't like the way Tony always seems compelled to rock the boat when things are going along at least somewhat smoothly.
"An aphrodisiac," Tony answers.
"We got the most powerful one around, Tony," Carmine grumbles. "from The Chemist. Why do you need another one?"
"This one works in less than 30 seconds, Luthor claims and he promised a demonstration. Ours takes 30 minutes or so. Think how many more johns we could get moved through our stable of girls with that kind of motivational push. We could double our prostitution take in less than a year. And that doesn't include dosing celebrities and politicians and such for blackmail purposes. That would amp up our bank accounts plenty. Times are tough, gentlemen. We have to stay ahead of the curve!"
Stevie and Carmine look at each other and shrug. The man wasn't wrong, but as always, the risk factor was high. Tony Bonano was like one of those huge Las Vegas slot machines in the lobbies of the casino hotels. Huge payoffs, lots of noise and action and very attention-getting. Carmine knew that Tony was skating on thin ice with the families as it was, and he had yet to hear from Don Lupenzo regarding the families' reaction to letting Superman go and the terrorist tape he'd made to shift the attention away from the Mob regarding the Wonder Woman ambush. That ought to be breaking anytime.
The tape, made this morning, had then been quickly edited by Stevie and was due to be anonymously delivered to three New York TV stations fifteen minutes ago. Once all the high-powered station executives and network folks fought their turf wars over who got credit for getting it aired versus getting it aired before their rivals, they'd break into regular programming any time now. Another monitor was switched onto one of the local channels just to know when that happened.
"That look on Superman's face. It reminds me of Supergirl's after the Minetti's attack on her. How's he look now, Stefano?" Tony asks.
"Let me key up his room camera and audio." Stevie presses a few buttons, twists a knob and Superman's face pops up on the front editing monitor. The zoom in shows Superman's face turned sideways on the bed, but the eyes are no longer blankly staring ahead into the distance. Instead, they are filled with confusion now, darting back and forth, with a hint of fear. He even turns his head and looks at the ceiling and lets out a long rushing blow of a sigh. After that there's the hint of a lip tremble and then a severe gritting of the teeth and a narrowing of the eyes. Finally, a half-hearted yank on the clinking chains as the 3.5 setting on the control disk and the kryptonite handcuffs ensure his continued captivity. Then he sets his jaw and sighs loudly again through tight teeth.
"Looks like pounded shit but he seems normal enough considering the circumstances," Tony says. "Stevie, I know you're busy now with the Wonder Woman edits from last night plus the Superman stuff from this morning, but just keep tabs on blue boy in there to make sure he doesn't go too green on us. When Luthor arrives at 2:00, Superman has to be set up in that bondage chair we used with Supergirl. More secure chains than the zip ties, please, but they don't have to be Adamantium. The control disk will keep him subdued. Get Pete and Ernesto to help you. Oh, and Luthor wants him set up in the basement away from all the people in the headquarters. Pete and Ernesto are setting up the cameras in the empty storage locker right now, that's plenty big enough. Make sure you like the angles. You can test them from upstairs in the control room. They're running the feed up to there. I'll want you there with the recording equipment, Stevie, during Luthor's session with the girls. We'll take Supergirl and Wonder Woman down there in my private elevator so no one sees. Sergei will bring Ms. Prince. Linda and I will come together shortly after."
"Did Luthor say why he wanted the basement?" Carmine is scowling.
"I suggested the basement. He just demanded privacy. He is on the lam so the fewer people that spot him, the better he likes it. That's his call since he's paying us three million bucks for the privilege."
"Holy shit," Stevie exclaims, then whistles a long descending note.
"Plus, he's throwing in the aphrodisiac for free," Tony adds.
"Tony..... he wants something...else," Carmine says slowly, thinking. The set up is too sweet for us. He's got an angle. Knowing how he feels about Superman, my guess is, he wants to kill him. This ain't good."
"You don't think I thought about that, Carmine? Give me some credit. He'll be searched high and low before he gets a mile from Superman. I'm doing it myself."
"Shit....mutherfucking..cocksucking...damn-it-to-hell...sonabitch...lord fuck a duck!" Carmine is red in the face now. "You're gonna give me a fuckin' stroke, Bonano! I swear to god. Right here, right here," he points to the floor for affect. "I'm gonna drop like a rock and be a certified dribbling idiot for the rest of my fucking days on earth unable to enjoy a fucking red cent of the millions of dollars you're going to be bringing in to us."
"Carmine...." Tony interrupts.
"Shut the fuck up, Tony, and let me have my say. I don't know if you're aware of it or, if you are, whether you even care about it, but you are walking a line between life and death right now. Life and death, Tony! And you're taking Stevie and me along with you on this little walk in case you care about that. Look, Tony, I respect you like a sonofabitch. Truly! I'm proud of you for all you've accomplished in the last month and even before this whole Supergirl thing went down, I have to say I admired your talents. You've come a long, long way in a short time in a business that usually takes ten times longer and three or four deaths in the ranks to move up like the way you have. You're a fucking magician and a brilliant tactician and sometimes it seems like there's nothing you can't do. But what you can't do is play it safe. And I'm just afraid it's going to get us all killed. And then what's all this good for? I ask you?"
Carmine walks off to the opposite side of the room, taking deep breaths and composing himself as Tony looks at Stevie with a touch of surprise. Then he asks the bearded young protege, "You think he's right, Stefano? You think I'm playing with fire here."
"Tony....of course you are," Stevie says softly. "You always do. You don't know any other way. And yes, you're putting our lives on the line. Now Carmine, excuse me for saying it, Carm, but he's older, he's paid his dues for a long time now and I'm guessing he probably wants to enjoy the success you've brought all of us. Eat out at fancy restaurants. Fuck supermodels. Get courtside seats next to Spike Lee at Knick games. Enjoy all the wealth that your scheming and living on the edge have brought to this crew. Me, I'm younger. I accept the risks to get the rewards, rewards I would never get close to with any other crew, any other profession, hell... any another life! Now I'm not saying I want to be killed which is about 50-50 at the moment I'd say given the risks you're playing with and the family reaction and all, which Carmine probably knows better than me. But hell, I love this fucking job and the way you're running this fucking crew and whatever happens, I'm in. Sorry, Carmine."
"No problem, kid. You spoke your piece. I respect that," the stocky don nods.
"Carmine," Tony looks at him with quiet calm. "You want out?"
"I'd prefer you calm things down. Take less risks rather than getting out, if that's your question," Carmine says, also calmer now.
"Not sure that's in my genes, Carm. You said it yourself. So I can't make promises. If you want your share right up to this moment, it's yours. No hard feelings. My word on my mother's grave."
Carmine gives Tony a long slow look of appraisal. "Tony, I gotta..."
"Hey, it's on!" Stevie blurts, dialing up the sound on the local station TV.
"Thank you, Jim," says Heather Wells, a pretty blonde reporter holding a microphone and standing in front of a large embossed logo of the TV station to amp up the prestige and ratings factor. "Moments ago, Channel Four News received a videotape from a terrorist group called Afghan Jihad claiming responsibility for the recent shooting and ambush in Bryant Park against Wonder Woman. Incredibly, this group has indicated that Wonder Woman is not dead and that they are keeping her captive until their demands are met. This is a stunning development in as much as most experts believed that the Amazon Princess had been killed in the attack based on the visual evidence. They also had thought that there might have been a connection to the Mafia when the attack was analyzed based on the methods employed. That theory has been "back-burnered" according to the New York Office of the FBI. The tape, crudely made according to a bureau official..."
"Fuck you, FBI,. I was going for realism," Stevie barks.
"...includes demands from the leader of the group, Abdul Nafir. The FBI as well as the Office of the Homeland Security state that this terrorist cell has been on their radar for a while but was thought to be inactive..."
"On their radar?" Tony scoffs, adding a loud, "Hmmphh! I just made the fucking cell up this morning! What a pack of lying pricks! They're trying to make the public feel like they've got a handle on things!"
"On the tape we'e about to show you, the leader, Abdul Nafir, is in disguise," Heather is reporting, "but we've increased the audio volume and provided subtitles to help you understand his statement."
"Wonder Woman represents everything that is wrong with America!" The screen has cut to the tape and a shot of an angry young man with a scorpion tattoo on his arm. He's wearing an armless black t-shirt, a black eye mask, an obviously fake beard and a fake black wig that looks like bad bowl cut. He is standing in front of a brick wall with no other identifying features. As he talks, subtitles appear to help viewers understand his thick Middle-Eastern accent. "This half-naked brazen whore parades around New York spouting peace while helping the U.S. keep its enemies under its thumb. Where is her peace when U.S. bombs indiscriminately kill Afghan children in an offensive thrust against a people trying to live within religious doctrines of their own? Until the United States withdraws from Afghanistan, Wonder Woman will be considered a prisoner of war. We have bandaged her wounds and are helping her to heal from our attack but she will be disciplined severely until the President agrees to withdraw from our beloved country. If he agrees to that and to pay us five million dollars for her safe return as well, we will release her upon the withdrawal from Afghanistan. We will give you two weeks before our next communication. Afghan Jihad out!"
Before the tape ends, there is a crude cut edit and a picture of a grimacing Wonder Woman is shown. She is lying in shackles on a padded table in her famous uniform under the glare of a harsh spotlight moaning in pain. The tape ends with the lights dimming out and the scene shifts back to the blonde doing her stand-up in front of the station logo again.
"The White House has issued a statement saying they have no intention of withdrawing from Afghanistan at this time and does not negotiate with terrorists. They do, however, ask that the cell adhere to the standards of the Geneva Convention regarding treatment of POWs. We'll have more about this story during our regular newscast at five o'clock and updates, if necessary, as they occur. I'm Heather Wells for Channel Four News."
Stevie switches the sound off as the director switches the scene back to the news desk
and the next story.
"Well, that should buy us some time with the families," Tony says. Then he looks at Carmine. "What do you think, Carm? You still want out?"
"Tony....I don't know." The stocky older man looks straight into his protege's eyes and shrugs. Then puts out his hand to shake Tony's. " I will work with you another 24 hours while I think about it. Until then, I'm yours."
"Well. I can live with that, I guess," Tony shakes with Carmine. "Why don't we see how the families react to our little misdirection ploy of Afghan Jihad. Talk to Don Lupenzo and let me know."
"Sure thing, Ton. Hey, sorry about the blow up, but this thing with Luthor seems like a lot of trouble."
"You want to be there while we do the security check?"
"Does a duck fart in the water?"
Supergirl takes a deep hit of the crack pipe as she sits slumped within the deep leather cushions on the couch in her luxury suite in the Pleasure Dome building. It is her second pipe for the morning and Tony had left her with several pellets of crack before he had to leave for business, so she was carefree for the morning at least. The wafting smoke rises before her, covering her face momentarily before it drifts to the ceiling...and all her intelligence with it. A beatific smile spreads across her face and she leans forward and carefully puts the pipe on the coffee table before slumping back into the cushion and letting her eyes wander to the painting of a Paris café on the opposite wall. She gets lost in it for 15 minutes, leisurely daydreaming about her and Diana sipping espresso and rating the handsome Parisian men in their tight trousers as they walk by on the sidewalk.
She was just so thrilled that Diana did not hate her even though she gave away her secret identity. She hoped she would see her again today. Tony said she would. And Tony seemed to be keeping his word about keeping her in crack so why wouldn't he about that, too? She hadn't even been required to entertain any of his guests lately. Although he did say that she would be seeing someone special was that afternoon. She wondered if Tony would be trying even now to get Diana to work for him the way he had handled her? If he was, he had no idea how strong Diana's willpower was. She certainly was capable of withstanding the kind of treatment they'd put her through. I wish I was as strong as Diana.
The blonde sighs heavily and then gets lost in a different painting, one of a beautiful Italian landscape on a separate wall. She drifts in another daydream of a gorgeous hunk of an Italian man stopping on that winding road in the picture asking her for directions before they go back to his huge villa to make beautiful, passionate love. Her hand slides into the pink cotton panties under her pink t-shirt and, after just a moment, the fabric begins to darken with her feminine secretions as she pants roughly in the silence of her beautiful prison suite, lost in her addiction.
Wonder Woman looks nothing like the magnificent heroine who has gallantly faced down countless foes with an air of superiority and noble grace. The beauty of her incredible figure so often displayed while standing with her hands on her hips in jaw-thrusting defiance is difficult to imagine right now. She doesn't even look as bold or courageous as when she withstood the horrific assault in the park. The heroic gesture of her defiantly spitting on the sneaker of the mastermind of the attack even while bleeding out in her bullet-pocked costume on the stone terrace is eons away from the female who she now was.
In fact, now she is nothing more than a tightly trussed, bruised and naked female figure with sweaty black hair plastered to her face. While you could see she has a pretty decent body, it is devoid of energy and completely empty of spirit. Bound securely to a six-foot-high wide round wooden pole, the once stunning beauty is now a waxy-looking, defeated figure with fleshy thighs and naked, drooping tits who is helplessly slouched in limp futility. A shortened, smoothed and polyurethaned oak telephone pole had been installed in the jail cell where Supergirl's training had taken place. Wonder Woman has been secured halfway up its length.
The pole is securely bolted with steel plates to the ceiling and floor. Elaborate rope work had been used, tying the Amazon's legs, torso and arms in such a way that she is held rigidly in place with her arms and legs wrapped around the pole so her wrists meet and the soles of her bare feet can touch if she strains to make the effort. Crisscrossed lines of smooth blue nylon rope ingeniously support her body so that there's no undue strain on her arms or legs. Fleshy mounds of her skin bulge between the tight ropes all along her sagging body. A simple separate winding of rope around the pole and the Amazon princess' neck keeps Diana's face pressed against the pole so that her mouth is forced to surround a short, fat plastic dildo that can double as a feeding tube. There's only an inch or two of slack in this rope. Between her thighs another tube extends deep into her vagina. Curved and shaped in rigid, lifelike rubber, the dildo has a metal collar around the shaft just below the mushroom shaped tip that is capable of carrying an electric current of varying voltages. There's also a hole in the end of the dildo for lubricants and other liquids to be released.
Currently Wonder Woman is dozing, half-asleep in her bondage, moaning slightly from the tension in her muscles from a hellish night with Sergei the Mad Russian Bear. It is 9:45 in the morning, though she is certainly oblivious to the time herself. His treatment of the red and blue clad champion from the moment Supergirl had left after breaking through the shell of her Vow of Impetus Denego had been, in turns, violent, mocking, angry, bestial and humiliating. The ball gag had been forced into her mouth and strapped to her head as she lay helplessly chained to the bondage table. The Mexicali Cum Juice bag had been suspended from a steel pole attached to the corner of the table beside her and the noxious, debilitating brew of heroin and aphrodisiac had been forced down her throat in gag-inducing, thick, foul, jetting doses every 40 minutes over the last ten hours with only a few breaks.
Every time, before the potent sludge would be released in a thick stream into her mouth, a loud, annoying razzing buzzer would sound to confirm with nasty dominance that the dosing would occur and that there was nothing Wonder Woman could do to prevent it. She almost came to despise the buzzer more than the sickening brown liquorice-tasting cream itself. The Pavlovian effect of the buzzer itself was almost enough to make the mighty heroine gag helplessly. Her throat would constrict in fear, her eyes widen in alarm, her pores empty a sickening moist sweat that stank of despair. And her body would tremble despite her efforts to restrain it. The actual splurging stream always hit her right at the back of the throat, causing her to gag in reflex before she was obligated by the very volume of the thick muck to swallow it to avoid choking to death. Often the excess of the huge dose would spray out of the sides of her mouth and drain down her chin or her cheeks depending on the position in which she was bound.
After every dosing, the mighty heroine had been posed the same question throughout the night by the blonde Russian bastard, "Will you agree to be a whore for Tony Bonano?" The constantly negative head-shaking responses from the drugged but defiant warrior princess were expected by Sergei. So too were his nasty reciprocations by Diana. But it had been getting harder and harder to resist the urge to just give in and relent to the siren call of sweet surrender. She had considered biding her time and looking for a chance to escape while pretending to be a whore as she built up her strength. It wasn't the worst of plans, but her ego would not bear such a humiliating capitulation to this animal. So she resisted and got weaker and more confused with every hour as the relentless assault by the sagging plastic bag of drugs worked its evil ways upon her system in concert with the humiliations applied by Sergei.
For four hours during the endless night she had been strapped on her back held rigidly in place on the bondage table with no slack, her famous starred panties pulled down to her thighs, her knees secured tightly in stirrups and her long powerful legs spread wide in the air by steel leg rests as a motorized fucking machine stroked away at her exposed vagina with unending stimulation. In combination with the aphrodisiac and the heroin, the helpless Champion of Women had been unable to collect her wits, her will or her energy to prevent her body from responding to the machines. Defenseless in her bondage, Wonder Woman experienced innumerable thundering, body-thrashing orgasms of unimaginable gasping length. Breathless and hopeless, the mighty champion writhed and strained and sweated and climaxed over and over and over until she had fainted completely. She'd then be slapped awake and posed The Question and, upon refusal had been punched and beaten until she lost consciousness again. Within four hours, this cycle of torment happened six times. Unbeknownst to her, while unconscious, Wonder Woman's power belt had been strapped around her. This helped her regain her strength and, as a by-product, rapidly healed the gunshot and steel pellet wounds sustained in her attack. Consequently, Sergei was able to repeat the cycle of violence without her slipping into death's embrace. He was even able to remove the bandages and note that the scars were slowly fading each time the belt was secured around the unconscious woman's body.
Another three hours of the night were spent shackled to the floor, face down with her ass raised high in the air, still hooked up to the bag of Mexicali Cum Juice. Again, the relentless fucking machine slid back and forth, back and forth at her exposed pussy. A separate battery-powered extra-wide dildo vibrated deeply within her ass at the same time, enhancing the stimulation. The ball gag had remained shooting its mix of brain-dulling heroin and body-sensitizing aphrodisiac down her throat in regular intervals. Reduced to a bewildered, helpless, quivering mass of aroused flesh and feelings, the mighty Amazon warrior had wept, screamed, pleaded through the gag and cried as slobbering, gasping orgasms overtook her time after time after time. Drugged and drooling puddles of saliva, the once indomitable female hero was forced to succumb to body-wracking, ecstatic fits of pure sexual delirium that she did not want but could in no way resist. And again, The Question was posed, "Will you agree to be a whore for Tony Bonano?" With the ball gag slackened and pulled out of her mouth, the thin, whispered voice of the exhausted champion answered simply, "No." And the beatings commenced again.
For yet another two hours and forty minutes, the defiant Amazon beauty had been suspended from the ceiling in a painful hogtie using smooth, blue nylon rope. Her arms were securely tied behind her back, her legs were bent at the knees and also tied behind her back to arms and, as before, the ball gag with it's attached plastic bag of drugs hung nearby were there administering the potent solution every 40 minutes in measured drenching jets down her throat. In between dosings, monstrous-sized dildos of immense power were inserted into her vagina and ass and kept at a constant low speed that kept her on the frenzied edge of orgasm without pushing her over. Every time she got close, some sort of biofeedback chip must have kicked in because both dildos would shut down until her breathing returned to acceptable stress levels and then they would start up again. Wonder Woman was angry enough to bite through the rope, the ball gag and the cement block wall by the time that session was over. She had wept deeply and long during that particular session, blubbering like a baby when the dildos shut down every time she was at the precipice of delight.
Now, as Wonder Woman becomes more aware within her doped lethargy, she opens her eyes and sees her terrible predicament. Her arms and legs have been strapped around a pole with her mouth and vagina filled with fat dildos. She moans loudly, her groan blowing around the plastic dong. Slowly, the naked, haggard heroine regains her equilibrium and pieces together her memory. For now there is no blissful heroin-induced cloud of serene pleasure, but merely a thinly-drugged, faltering bewilderment from almost twelve hours of forced heroin use and sexual obliteration.
There had been a fight with Sergei, she blearily recalls. Yes, that's right. After the fucking machines had driven her to the heights of sexual madness and then soul-draining exhaustion, and after the torture of the non-climaxing hogtie suspension, she had been released from her chains. As she was lying on the bondage table in inert dumbfounded silence, the hated buzzer sounded yet again, she had tensed in horror and disgust and the pump on the bag of Mexicali Cum Juice had jetted its thick foul-tasting load of confusion, crazed bliss and desperate sexual desire down her throat. She'd swallowed this devil's soup in gagging nausea as some of it slithered down the sides of her mouth onto her neck and then to the table. Sergei then disconnected the feed line to the ball gag from the plastic bag of hellish drugs and dragged Wonder Woman, still in her costume, off the table and dropped her unceremoniously to the floor. As the potent heroin filled her brain and she nodded dully in a heap of tired muscle and smooth satin, her gag was unbuckled, pulled away and tossed in a corner. Sergei had commanded her to get up. To fight! She thinks back to the scene, sickened by her humiliation as the brutal truth of that horrible battle withers her soul.
"Let us see how the powerful Amazon princess handles herself now, eh?" Sergei smiles wolfishly as he circles the crumpled heroine with a dancing, energetic boxing style, feinting and shuffling with gleeful anticipation of the drubbing he is about to unload on his heavily handicapped opponent. How she had taunted him under that hypnotic state she'd put herself in. So dispassionate yet so bitingly nasty in the devastating truths she had uttered with such toneless conviction. But that was all done with now. Now she'd been taught a whole new attitude over the past ten hours by Sergei. He'd loved every minute of it.
Between sessions, he'd gone into the control room where Stevie was handling the camera feeds. Yes, he'd gotten the cries of orgasmic delight on record Stevie had assured him. Certainly there were plenty of closeups of her tears, her stupid expressions of drugged confusion, her sweating desperation and horror with every sound of the buzzer. It was all on digital record. Stevie affirmed with a smile that he'd collected every excruciating moment of this night of endless humiliation for Wonder Woman. And Sergei beamed with delight. He was the one who'd designed the entire sequence, deciding how to apply the psychic and physical pressure to control, to dominate, to subdue and to overwhelm this proud symbol of womanly power. True, she had not agreed to The Question yet. But this fight might turn the tide. And if not, he had plenty of time. Wonder Woman wasn't going anywhere for at least two weeks according to Tony. He could afford to be patient in his training. But for now he was going to beat the crap out of her, humiliate her completely and force her to fuck him right in her famous costume. For himself, for the cameras, for his cock, he would draw out her misery for as long as he could before handing Wonder Woman her shameful defeat.
"Come on there, princess," Sergei prods her with his toe. "Get to your feet. I'm giving you a chance for revenge against all the degrading abuse you have suffered this night. Come and get me, Diana."
"...nuhh....fair...." she mumbles, as she awkwardly disentangles her arms and legs until finally she's on her hands and knees with her head wobbling low in a heavily drugged stupor.
"I'd say is as fair as someone as powerful as you taking on a lone street thug. What chance would he have had against the mighty Amazon princess in her full-breasted glory, eh? So, now it is you who are the one that is outclassed and too weak to put up a good fight. But let's see how you do, Wonder Woman, when the tables are turned."
Lurching forward without warning, Wonder Woman drives her body against Sergei's legs, using her sluggish weight to knock him off his feet. He falls backward in an ungainly sprawl, his back thumping painfully against the bondage table. This keeps him from falling over completely and gives him back a semblance of balance. Raising his clasped hands over his head, he brings them down in a hammer blow against Wonder Woman's lower skull with a vicious thud.
"Uuunghhh!" Collapsing on her belly, painfully disoriented and to drugged to think clearly enough to form a suitable response, an incapacitated Wonder Woman feels Sergei yank his legs out of her grasp and walk three steps away in a direction she cannot see. Slowly turning her head toward the sound of his boot heels, the shocked Diana sees, in fact, one of those black boot heels coming straight at her face. Lowering her head just in time, the Amazon warrior takes the shock of the powerful smashing heel directly on her forehead. This yanks her body sideways and sends her head flying backward until it meets the steel base of the bondage table. The nasty clang of metal does the damage you'd expect. Without her magical power belt providing her with superhuman strength, Wonder Woman is badly stunned by the impact with the unyielding metal. Her eyes flutter in semi-consciousness as her body sags against the base of the table, inertly helpless. Sergei reaches down, grabs the heroic icon by the hair and yanks her to her knees. Wobbling in a dazed fog of pain and drugs, her arms limp at her sides, Wonder Woman's face is tilted up in half-lidded, slack-jawed confusion as Sergei sneers at her effort in contempt.
"Sneaky bitch! That is the best you can do?" He soundly delivers two ringing bitch slaps to her face, one for each cheek. After clutching her hair tightly and turning her head to face forward, Sergei picks up Wonder Woman's chin with his forefinger and looks at her expression after the bitch slaps to see their effect. Stupidity, shock and desperation. He sees that she is trying to formulate a plan of attack without the mental tools to do it. The heroin forms a unyielding wall between her warrior skills and her muscles. Hauling the mighty female off her knees and onto wobbling, unsteady legs, Sergei pushes her back against the bondage table with the weight of his body and brings his hand up to her bosom.
"Don't trouble that pretty head of yours about how to be defending yourself, Wonder Woman. You can't do it so why bother? Just let Sergei squeeze these glorious tits of yours and relax." His palm holds her breast firmly within the red satin bustier and Wonder Woman's eyes widen in alarm, registering through the haze, this offensive manhandling. Instinctive reaction makes her bring her knee rapidly to give Sergei a nasty shot to the balls, but he's way ahead of the sluggish heroine and the half-twist of his hips simply brings her kneecap against his thigh.
A thundering punch to Diana's solar plexus from the angry Russian blasts all the air out of the young woman's lungs in a rushing wheeze of hot fetid breath. Pinned to the table, she cannot collapse forward but merely sags backward bending her spine in a twinge of pain.
"Silly cunt. I told you that you couldn't defend yourself. Do you believe me now?"
"Another one. By all means!" A second massive blow to her belly devastates Wonder Woman's composure and tears spring to her eyes as she tries to draw a breath. Ten seconds tick off before she has the strength to even inhale and then the wheeze is monstrously loud and rasping. Bent backwards and pinned by the big Russian's body and brutally deprived of her energy by the two powerful belly blows, Wonder Woman cannot prevent Sergei from pulling down the fabric eagle's wing at the top of her famous bustier to reveal her wide, beautiful left breast in all its glory. With her arms dangling defenselessly at her sides, panting in desperate heaves for air that is only sluggishly filling her lungs, the feminist heroine has her nipple sucked greedily by the smiling Russian thug. She can do nothing to stop him.
"I am thinking the aphrodisiac should be working its magic in your brain by now, slut. Is this true? Does this sucking excite your sensuous body?"
Too weak to resist, Wonder Woman is also in too much pain for her nipple to provide the pleasure Sergei is hoping for. It does not protrude or extend in excitement in the least, even under several sucking draws and several swiping wet licks at it. All she does is wheeze and moan until finally she feels as though her lungs have enough air.
"No? Nothing? Fine. Then we shall proceed with the fight," Sergei grins. He backs off and lets Diana bring herself upright. She quickly pulls up the flap of her bustier, covering her exposed breast.
"I...will...not...rest...until....you...see....justice...pig...." Wonder Woman slowly declares, barely believing her own words. Determinedly, she gets herself into a defensive stance, arms up, body turned sideways toward her opponent to lessen her profile against attacks. She stands there on shaky legs waiting for his assault. The heroin still smothers her brain with its foggy elixir of confusion. She feels the snake of fear winding around in her stomach. But she sets her jaw and waits.
Sergei smiles at her. "Well, are you waiting for your monthly flow, female? Attack me!" He, too, assumes a similar defensive stance.
"I...prefer...to defend...instead. Do...your worst...Russian sloth!"
"Oh, I insist. Ladies first. You are the weaker sex, after all, so we have to be making allowances for that," Sergei mocks her with a nod, a smile and a beckoning wave of his hands. Diana grimaces but does not take the bait.
"Weaker....in our taste... for cruelty.....You have...no soul... Sergei....You know that I s'ppose."
"I know I can probably take the mighty Wonder Woman with only one hand. Come at me, vixen. One hand is all I need." He drops his left arm and lets it dangle at his side, facing her with his right upheld in a fist.
"To please yourself, I'm sure. But not to win a battle with me. Even with your drugs."
"Prove your mettle, whore. You are to be growing tiresome in your prattle. Or has all that supposed Amazon courage completely eroded away from your long night of weeping, helpless orgasmic humiliation that I so thoughtfully provided?"
"Heeeeyaahhhh!" Foolishly goaded into fury at last, Diana charges at him with an Amazon yell on her lips, vengeful destruction in her eyes and a hard swinging fist aimed at his face. Sergei immediately ducks his head to the right and using his right arm, easily deflects Wonder Woman's tightly fisted left hand away with a simple blocking maneuver. Exactly as she intended, for her right hand and right knee drive up inside Sergei's defenses in a fierce blow to his stomach from her fist and his inner thigh from her knee.
Again, unfortunately, the heroin has dulled her reaction time just enough for him to twist away from the crippling damage she had intended for his groin. Nevertheless, her punch had landed cleanly and Sergei collapses to one knee in a wheezing gust of air, stunned and off-balance. Diana is a bit off balance, too, having used a tactic that, while fantastically clever considering her drugged state, required her to shift her weight radically to make it work. She does regain her balance before Sergei, though, and comes at his head with a hard overhand left. Bringing his right arm up quickly over his head, Sergei is able to successfully block this knock- out blow by taking a painful shot to his right forearm. His left hand immediately swings under Diana's defenses now with an uppercut aimed at her chin. Still a bit weak from the blow to his stomach, Sergei nevertheless connects soundly with this uppercut. Diana's mouth snaps shut with a shocking click of her bright white teeth. Her eyes lose all focus and the stunned heroine falls back four awkward steps, her fists loosely hanging at her sides, her head lowered in a blurry daze, a thin drip of blood seeping from her mouth and her knees wobbling noticeably. The raven-haired champion is almost out on her feet.
Sergei slowly stands and looks at his badly-disoriented opponent as he straightens up and regains his own composure. This would be too easy. He will let her get her senses back while he taunts her again.
"Well, okay, Diana, it did take two hands for me to be repelling you. I will be giving you that. But you are, after all, a great Amazon warrior," he says with obvious sarcasm. As he says this, the great Amazon warrior tries to stop drooling and lift up her head. Yea! She succeeds. Now to remember her name. Oh, yeah, the Russian just said it. Diana.
"Let me know when you are ready to fight. I don't like taking advantage of women," Sergei says, grinning hugely at his joke. He'd been taking advantage of her all night.
"...f'I...don't...d'feat you...Shhergei...shomeone....will...i...promishe you.....that...." Diana slurs messily through a sore jaw and a bruised tongue.
"You are so cute when you're angry and helpless, Wonder Woman. People have told you this before, yes?"
"Bashtard!" Angry again, Wonder Woman rushes at Sergei with both fists flying. When she gets within three feet of him, she stops her fists and goes for his head with a bent-leg, power- style kick strike with all the Amazonian might at her command. Which is just not enough. Once again, the drugs and the beatings and the endless night of strength-sapping torment have left Wonder Woman without the skill, energy or speed to succeed at what her heroin laced brain had conjured up as an effective attack. Sergei grabs Diana's supple red leather boot around the ankle and simply holds it tightly in place, stopping her attack instantly and completely unbalancing her on one shaky leg.
"Stupid slut," Sergei says, shaking his head and without warning, punches Wonder Woman hard in the face, driving her head ten inches backward, and then, using the same fist, delivers a stunning punch to Diana's crotch, his knuckle driving into the cleft of her crotch with a sickening, squashing slap of bone on flesh.
"Oww! Uhhhhnnn.....ohhhhh...." Backing off, Sergei releases the ankle and allows the bulge-eyed beauty to collapse to the floor like a marionette who's strings have all been cut. She curls into a fetal position with both hands at her crotch, crying in pain and begging for the first time in nine hours.
"Ohhhhh....oww.....don't...hit...me....again.....pleeeaaassssse.......don't....." The accumulation of brutality has finally found its limits in Wonder Woman's lioness heart. She has to do something different. She can't fight this monster in her present condition. The heroin's effect has dissipated somewhat in the violence of this attack and even that works against Wonder Woman since the pain is no longer shielded by the morphine effect of the drug.
"Ah haah....so the famous champion is truly beginning to realize she is not going to resist her punishments forever, yes?"
".....no more hitting....." Grasping her crotch and rubbing it to ease the agony, Wonder Woman is beginning to get her breath back, but not her warrior spirit.
Sergei reaches down with his hand and offers it to her, to help her up. Grabbing it weakly with embarrassment at having to need this man's help, Wonder Woman pulls herself to her knees and ultimately to a tenuously weak standing position.
"So you see how nice and helpful I can be when you cooperate, Diana."
"...yes..." she murmurs, putting her hand on the bondage table to steady herself.
"Da, I can be this way for you all the time. But not yet, bitch." His fat fist rockets straight into Wonder Woman's chest and knocks her back three steps before she bends forward clasping both palms to her breasts in groaning agony. Striding forward without hesitation, Sergei launches a massive uppercut at Wonder Woman's lowered chin. Unlike the first, this one has his full power behind it. Distracted by the pain in her breast, she never sees it coming. The heavy, rock-hard fist connects with her jaw and the beautiful woman hero flies backward off her feet into the air for three feet before coming down hard on her ass and hitting her head on the hard stone floor in a nasty whiplash.
"....uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....." Barely conscious from the huge blow from the fist and the unyielding stone, Wonder Woman is sprawled on the floor on her back with her legs splayed wide open and her panties in disarray from Sergei's previous punch. You can see the sheen of pink pussy lips revealed by the wrinkled folds of the disheveled blue-starred fabric that only half cover her crotch. The nodding punch-drunk woman has no clue that cameras all over the room are zooming in to capture this disgrace in full color detail.
Sergei himself enjoys the view for a moment before continuing his attack. The world-famous feminist's pussy is crudely displayed and she's stupidly, senselessly clueless about it.
"But, in truth, you have been so nasty to me that I find myself having a hard time feeling sorry for you, Wonder Bitch! I probably shouldn't even bother to tell you your cunt is showing!" He laughs with scorn as the mortified beauty swipes clumsily at her crotch and covers her sex with shaky fingers. Sergei walks up to Wonder Woman and stands over her, his shadow casting darkness and fear across her dazed expression.
"...wha....d'you...whant....?..." she slurs in weary desperation, her senses barely regained.
"I want you to agree to be Tony Bonano's whore. The same as I have all night."
Slowly, her lip trembling, Wonder Woman finally asks the question she had refused to contemplate all night. "...what...would........i.........need........to..........do.....?"
"Do what you are told, whore!" Sergei yells and kicks Diana in the kneecap with a brutally hard swing of his foot, landing a pointed jab right on the top surface of the knee with the toe of his boot. She yelps in pain, rising up from her back and doubling over her knee to hold it in agony while Sergei circles around her. As she weeps over her knee, Wonder Woman feels her kidney explode in a sheer white curtain of pain. Sergei pulls his boot back from her lower back as the defenseless warrior flops backward in an arching spasm that raises the raven-haired woman's entire body off the floor for a second before it comes crashing down with a thump. Both hands fly to her lower back and in doing so, leave her front completely unprotected. Without warning, Sergei stomps on her stomach and immediately withdraws his boot and walks a step back. Wonder Woman's breath once more explodes from her body, her eyes bulge and she goes absolutely fetal, crying loudly, wheezing desperately for oxygen, sniveling with tears and snot running out of her nose and down her chin as she lies there in excruciating pain. She writhes and groans and weeps pitifully for two minutes while Sergei simply stands over her watching her with satisfaction. The Amazon princess' entire body shakes and trembles as the warrior discovers the acrid taste of her defeat.
"....nuh....more......no....more...." She acquiesces in a humbled, shaky whisper.
"That's right, cunt. No more refusals. No more questions. No more resistance. Now you are mine and Tony's and you will do as you are told. So, are you now a whore for Tony Bonano or not?"
"You are what, you bloated overconfident sow?"
"...i..am...Tony Bonano's whore...."
"Good. At last. Now take off your panties. I am to be fucking you in the ass!"
End of Chapter 29
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