Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 1

Author: Dr. Dominator
Time to Read:77min
Views:525 (All Time)

Well, I missed the deadline for the WW Story Contest but here’s the first part of my late contribution. I hope you enjoy it and look forward to your comments at drdominator9@live.com

The Wonder Woman character as well as Steve Trevor are the property of DC Comics. All the other characters in this story are the property of Dr. Dominator and cannot be used without permission. This story is very severe in its depiction of sexual fetishism and portrays acts of violence. It should only be read by consenting adults of 18 years or older. The story is simply meant as entertainment and is not written for profit.

Scarlet Avenger was absolutely exhausted; more so than she’d ever felt in her entire 23 years. Her pale freckled complexion was almost ghostly now and her powder blue eye shadow was badly smeared as was her mascara. The usually-striking violet irises were dull and half-hidden underneath drooping lids, confirming her weakened state. Her thin upper lip was wet with perspiration and her thicker lower lip was pouted outward as her breath sighed out of her in a long slow moan. Her signature thick mane of red hair, normally lustrous, was now a sodden mass of sweaty locks that hung down over her face, stuck to her shiny forehead and clung heavily to her neck. She was so tired that the weight of her own hair pressed her head to the padded surface. Face down on the table, her damp cheek rested against a thin tan leather cushion that was slick and browned by her sweat. She’d been chained to this table for hours wearing a specially-created clear rubber catsuit designed to stimulate her to repeated orgasms.

Clinging to every curve and dimple of her highly-toned athletic 5' 7" body, the suit contained over six dozen tiny stimulating electrical pads scattered throughout its interior. Managed by a computer chip at the back of her neck, the suit created cascading flows of sensation across her body that were impossible to resist. The young heroine had lost count of the number of orgasms she’d been subjected to, been delighted by, had cursed at and had cried through. Now she was shaking with muscle fatigue.

She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus. She hadn’t been able to for hours now. But she’d thought that had started even before she had put on the catsuit. She couldn’t be sure. Her brain was muddled and disorganized. She’d been greeted by the tall, good-looking French professor at his home, searching for answers about a missing female student of his. She didn’t think she’d eaten or drank anything when she interviewed him in his study but everything was so cloudy now, she wasn’t sure of anything. All she knew was that she wanted to sleep again. Another soft mournful sigh escaped her lips.

And then the dildo in her vagina buzzed to life again.

“...no....” she blurted in frustration. “....no...no...no...!” She rattled the thick steel chains that manacled her wrists and ankles with a weak pull but there was no hope in the act. Early on, she’d tried harder. Now she didn’t have the energy.

The thinner dildo embedded in her ass suddenly vibrated anew as well, followed by a cascading flow of pleasurable electrical current from the soles of her feet to the top of her inner thighs. It was matched by exciting pulses from her wrists to her shoulders to her neck and then down around her chest and straight to her nipples. Scarlet arched her neck in helpless delight.

“...aaahhh...” she gasped, enveloped by her electronic lover’s caresses all up and down her body as the dildos thrummed away at her orifices.

Delirious with the sensations bombarding her, the 23-year old heroine ground her pelvis against the thin leather pad and moaned in drooling ecstacy. There simply was no escaping the pleasure.

The dildos buzzed away and the sequence of sensations swept over the surface of her body in waves of unexpected electrical patterns that were incapable of being anticipated or blocked. She didn’t have near enough mental ability at this point to do so anyway. Or the energy to resist. The Frenchman had seen to that.

Her butt cheeks were being massaged by invisible electronic fingers, the series of stim pads circling her ass with three spiraling runs around her glutes that tickled and aroused. The sensation then buzzed under the jiggling bottom curves of both buttocks before plunging deep into her crack to highlight the feel of the anal probe, accentuating its affect to a new power.

“Ohhhh! ....man....that’s...ohhhhhhh.....” The husky sound of the heroine’s voice drew a pleased smile from the man watching her from ten feet across the room. He noticed that Scarlet’s nipples were rock hard and her breasts engorged within the straining rubber suit. He knew that a tiny electrical current was now being sequentially applied to the pink tips of perfect sensitivity in a repeating pattern. This little subroutine he’d written into the program drew the redhead’s mouth into an oval of pure pleasure. The sheen on her high distinctive cheekbones was caught by his smiling eyes as well as the constantly recording cameras mounted at the four corners of the ceiling.

No part of her body was left untended. Scarlet could even feel her stomach being caressed by gentle but steady currents of joy that slowly and surely flowed directly down to the apex of her loins only to have the vaginal dildo increase its vibration to its highest level. Scarlet Avenger’s eyes rolled up even further under her lids at this final assault on her body and her entire figure jolted and bucked on the table as she came wetly in place, her juices flooding into the rubber crotch and puddling there as she panted and moaned in helpless joy.

From behind her, a voice heavy with smug satisfaction spoke.

“This is wonderful to see you enjoy my pleasure suit so much, cherie. And now I think it is time to enjoy the pleasures of your body for myself one last time, yes? Entry will be no problem, of course. Your body is perfectly primed for me now. As I have arranged, as I have made it all come to pass.”

Too weak to respond, her breasts rising and falling as her arms trembled with fatigue, Scarlet Avenger simply lay there as she felt cool air on her butt when the suit’s rear flap was unsealed with the soft zip of a plastic zipper and pulled open.

He bent over her. “Let us remove this long, smooth butt-hole stimulator and replace it with my own, shall we?” His honeyed voice cooed in her ear as his fingers reached in between her ass cheeks and grabbed the anal dildo. With a firm easy draw, the now-quiet five-inch chrome tool was pulled out of Scarlet’s ass. She shivered with the thrill of its exit.

She felt the weight of the man climb on top of the table and then lie on top of her. His warm body pressed her own hard against the leather cushion but it was not overwhelming her. His nakedness was even pleasurable through the thin rubber, his body heat warming her crevices. His hard penis centered between her exposed buttocks, nestled neatly in her crack.

He’d taken her before this, of course. Twice during the hours of her imprisonment, he’d come in and easily plunged his hard muscle deep into her helplessly wet vagina. She’d been crazed enough by the suit by then to enjoy it thoroughly. She thought she’d been drugged with an aphrodisiac to augment the suit. There was a dim memory there of her possibly drinking something before she’d donned the suit. Too foggy and too distant now. She couldn’t recall. She couldn’t bring her thoughts together in any good order. Why was that? When was that? How had he...

There was a sudden lack of weight on her rear but that was just as suddenly returned.. The rounded tip of the long hard cock barged roughly against her anus, demanding entry. Wet from excitement, the muscled orifice relented easily and the grinning man pushed his cock firmly and steadily into her relaxed asshole, his thick member forcing itself into her cavity, filling it with urgent heat.

“Hnnngghhh!”

“Surely that cannot have hurt you, mon amie?”

“...suh....prised...me....”

“Ah, well. Good. Then we can begin our little game. I will be fucking your ass and you will be enjoying the breath play, yes?”

“...whuh...?...WRREEGGKKK!”

The thin silk cord came out of nowhere. First his one hand was on her shoulder then both hands were at the back of her neck with the cord pulled tightly around her throat. Her eyes widened in fear even as his dick withdrew and then roughly burrowed deep into her ass. And the cord slacked off. The low soft voice whispered again.

“Naturalement we need a safety word, yes? To avoid mishaps and such. If the cord is too tight, I think you should say ‘Help’ to let me know I have gone too far. This is agreeable, yes?”

The suit provided a sudden new surging array of stroking currents that circled her thighs, tickled her nipples and charged into her clit, forcing a harsh breathy reply from Scarlet Avenger.

“OHHHH!...............kay....”

“Good. We begin.”

The cord pulled tight restricting her airway with its cool silky grip.

“...acgkk...” Only the thinnest stream of air slipped through the cord’s hold.

His warm, slick penis worked her rear slowly and steadily, pressing forward and pulling back within her tight channel again and again. Scarlet’s body tingled all over from the thrill of it. With the dildo in her pussy vibrating with a fierce constancy, shivers of pleasure shimmied up the redheaded beauty’s spine. She moaned rawly through the choke cord, savoring the surprising pleasure of this new act. The aphrodisiac intensified her pleasure to extreme levels.

“Not too tight, cherie?”

“...nho...it’s...al...right......” she replied, dulled to the nasty reality by hours of pleasure.

“Ah, then let us take the next step,” he breathed. Then he tightened.

“WRRLLGGKK!”

Now there seemed to be no air getting through. And the penis was thrusting faster. The wet hard muscle was repeatedly filling her ass with undeniable pleasure. Over and over the rod plunged between her butt cheeks as his body pressed her to the table and he took her savagely. There was no escape. There was only him pumping into her rear end again and again. Her buttocks bounced and wobbled within the tight rubber with each thrust. Her limp body was nothing but a playground for him and she couldn’t do anything about it.

She tried to draw a breath but nothing came through the unrelenting cord. Anticipating her fear, the Frenchman spoke.

“Give it a few more seconds, sweet flower, the sensations are worth it.”

Saying nothing in wide-eyed complicity, Scarlet Avenger relented to his will as her head throbbed. The penis drove back and forth now with fevered piston-like speed. And that did feel wonderful, even as the electrical currents at her clit and nipples raged against them with feathery automatic unrelenting pulses. Avenger knew nothing but pleasure and pain simultaneously. Her body consumed with joy, her head frozen in terror of an airless death, her throat raw with fear. And then she felt the cord suddenly slacken enough to allow a thick, cool stream of air through. She came like a hydrant opened on a summer day. It was nothing like she’d ever experienced before. Ever! Her rocking, bumping body under his pumping form drained out its liquids in rushing rivulets of joy. Her eyelids fluttered like captured moths. Her jerking figure created too much pleasure for him and his delight joined hers. He gripped her hips tightly and erupted deeply into her ass with a jet of hot cum. The feel of his surging stream in her ass sent Scarlet over a second ledge of delight and she plunged deep into the pool of pure pleasure of yet one more climax in an endless night of them. Her body trembled helplessly under his as she was washed clean of all thought. She exulted in her skin. Felt connected to everything and nothing in the same instant. It was rapturous.

And then the cord came back tighter than before. Harsher. More unforgiving. Even as she felt his still-hard penis spasming deeply within her, filling her ass and spurting his final seed, she gagged out a helpless signal.

“HELP!”

There was no slack in the cord. No release. No yield. If anything, it was tighter.

Yanking in fear on the shackles, the spent heroine yelped again, energized by panic. Had he not heard her?

“HLLLP!”

“Mais non, I don’t think so, cherie. No help for you. Just as there was no help for my sister from the fucking bitch heroine who killed her. No, my trapped little bird, we are finished here.”

“HEHHHHHP! HEHHHHHP!”

Her eyes bulge in panic. Her face grows so red that it matches her hair color. Her wrists yank and pull helplessly at the steel shackles, fingers curled into balled fists that strain woefully against unrelenting steel. Her feet kick and jerk as well. Her body bucks under his weight, with her shapely butt pushing and bumping up against his groin. All for naught: he’d made absolutely sure that her uncanny physical reserve had been well drained by the suit. He’d measured and planned it all very carefully. He was a man of science.

She felt his weight increasing as the darkness gathered around her field of vision. Her face is pushed against the wet leather pad as her tongue wiggles like a dying fish. Her mouth gapes wide, a dark cave issuing a breathless wind. She feels his thumbs rubbing against her earlobes as the cord takes everything away from her. All of her hope. All of her fight. In her final struggles, her chin is now pressed against the pad now and she is looking straight ahead at the costume she’d worn in her brief career. Hanging limp on a wall hook, there is nothing special about it now. A passing fancy by some teenager who thought she was special. Her eyes well up and spill with a final passing regret. It shouldn’t have come to this. She had helped people. She was good. Was good. Was good.....

And then the heroine stares into nothing. Her eyes as wide as marbles and just as void of life; her fiery spirit extinguished..

NOTEBOOK ENTRY #275 - SA

SUMMARY: As planned, subject discovered link with student Andrews, (Melissa) and came to my home after calling to arrange an interview for fact-finding. Shake of hand upon entry applied electrical neural-neutralizing agent. Approximately two minutes later, hand on elbow applied second inhibitor of chemical conductivity. Subject reaction time declined markedly in less than five minutes. Mental acuity diminished equally so in same period. Subject readily accepted suggestion of intake of liquid “antidote” for possible transference of “experimental chemicals.” Knockout agent and aphrodisiac solution ingested. Three minutes later unconscious subject moved to basement lab, stripped and fitted into hyper-sensitive pleasure suit. Subsequently, 5.25 hours of applied physical stimulation within suit, including two physical incursions with subject by self. Both vaginal. At conclusion of stimulation session, subject’s stamina levels reduced to approximately .115 of normal based on initial manacle resistance readings. Asphyxiation scenario completed with anal penetration. Deceased subject redressed in own uniform and cleaned with DNA eradication regimen then left at drop point at National Zoo.

NOTES:

Neural Agents: Application of electrical neural-neutralizing agent was effected without any obvious reaction by subject. Dry chemical adherence patch protected researcher while efficiently dosing subject. Levels of active ingredients on both inhibitors for subject’s weight and body type appropriate at .44 mgs. Stronger subjects will require levels of .88 or more. Super powered subjects may need 1.32 mgs. Application of wet chemical adherence patch for chemical inhibitor drew a noted negative response from subject. Explanation of water bottle condensation accepted. Need to continue pursing possible dry formulations for chemical inhibitors. Risk levels too high even with compromised mental reactions from initial electrical neutralizers.

Knockout/Aphrodisiac Solution: With mental confusion and alarm present, subject’s acceptance of “antidote” was not problematical but this may not always be the case. Subject was relatively naive to heroine lifestyle. Consider using forced hypo of solution considering reaction time will be severely compromised in dosed subjects and should be easily administered. Dizziness and lethargy established in less than 15 seconds. Complete unconsciousness within 45 seconds. Physical arousal rates within suit were 225% of baseline readings for females of said body weight and type. Galvanic skin response, rapid breathing and perspiration levels markedly increased as well. Aphrodisiac level of .66 mgs proved effective when combined with suit’s stimulation sequencing. Again, stronger subjects will require doubling of dosage at minimum. Super powered subjects may require 1.92 mgs. of aphrodisiac or greater. Increased automated stimulation sequencing procedures for super powered subjects should also be considered to reduce the time needed to reduce subject’s stamina readings to levels where asphyxiation scenario and anal penetration can be safely conducted.

Conclusions: Very pleased with the results. Finally killed my first heroine today after all the planning and preparations. It went very neatly. Though not super-powered, Scarlet Avenger was a highly-skilled specimen with incredible reflexes, extreme tolerances to pain and vast reserves of physical stamina. Background videos of her in action demonstrated remarkable reaction times, keen intelligence and a spacial awareness that was second to none in combat situations. She was reduced to a mentally incompetent physical shell of herself in less than five minutes with my dual subjugation procedure. Her mental capacity was completely compromised and the stimulation suit and aphrodisiac drained her of all her reserves just as expected. Over-excitement about the results along with dominating her so thoroughly engendered an orgasm that I would have preferred at the actual time of her death, but I can work at that. There are many heroines out there to experiment with now that the overall procedure has proven successful. I feel closer than ever to avenging you, my sweet Marie.


Wonder Woman stood near the entrance to Washington DC’s National Zoological Park frowning heavily at the scene before her. About ten yards away, the lifeless body of Scarlet Avenger was draped over the three-foot high stone letters spelling out “Zoo” at the Connecticut Avenue entrance. Facing away from her, the heroine’s bright red costume with it’s thin blue outlines was darker around the buttocks and crotch, obviously stained by some foul substance.

The Medical Examiner, a short bald man named Murray Banks, just finished talking with the two detectives who were standing beside the body and taking notes. He walked slowly up to Wonder Woman with a sad expression, his on-site examination finally completed. The full autopsy would be done later in the day, but he knew the Amazon would want his preliminary judgements.

“I’m not used to seeing dead heroines. It’s eerie,” Banks said, shaking his head.

“Let’s hope you don’t get used to it, Dr. Banks. It’s a sad day for the citizens of Washington. Scarlet Avenger was young but she was effective, talented, well-liked and not prone to mistakes. Can you tell me how she was killed, doctor?”

“Like I told the detectives, she was strangled to death with what looks like a smooth cord, probably silk. She must have fought like a demon for a long time to prevent it.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Her body moisture is very, very low. Her skin’s dry as parchment. She got quite a workout before she died. Extreme physical taxation of some sort, anyway. Can’t be specific until I open her up.”

Wonder Woman grimaced at the term but didn’t take offense. It was the nature of the job for a Medical Examiner to be a little cold about the disposition of bodies. She understood that. Still, it hurt to see the limp form hanging over the stone letters so cavalierly left for discovery by the Zoo’s day shift manager upon arriving at dawn. Murray had contacted Wonder Woman as soon as he got the call from the police about the costumed body discovered at the Zoo. He had a standing order to notify her on a special phone number whenever a superhero or heroine met their death in the nation’s capital.

“Can you approximate the time of death?”

“She hasn’t been here that long,” Murray declared. “ I’d say death could have been around 3 or 4 am. It’s 6:30 now. Whoever did this had his fun and got rid of her very fast.”

“That stain around her bottom. Is it what I think it is?”

“Actually, no, it’s not, if you’re thinking it’s semen. Actually it’s a special chemical cleansing solution with an active biological agent. Our boy didn’t want to leave anything to chance regarding his DNA signature. She’s scrubbed raw all over and especially within her privates. He used more than necessary hence the spreading stain. A very meticulous yet overzealous sort of fiend, this one. Careful about his procedures but almost fearful in his approach.”

“Hmmm.” Wonder Woman nodded at this, then asked, “Is this cleansing solution available at regular drug stores, Dr. Banks?”

“Not usually. Unless the manager had been asked to stock it specially. More likely its from a supply lab. It’s brand name is Elimanol, if my nose is correct. Haven’t run across it in a couple of years. The generic is called Cyclo-Peradesaline. It’ll be in my report. But if you’re tracking leads, ask about Elimanol. I’m 90% sure that’s what he used. I told that to the police as well.”

“May I examine the body now,” Wonder Woman asked. “Before you take her downtown.”

“Of course Wonder Woman. But her face is rather shocking I must warn you. I haven’t... um..dealt with it yet.”

“Thank you for the warning, doctor.” Wonder Woman strode forward immediately toward the limp figure hanging over the zoo sign. The doctor followed her, enjoying the Amazon’s statuesque form as she walked the short distance to the body, especially the wide expanse of her exquisitely- shaped ass. Superheroines and their bodies were amazing to behold. Even in death, Scarlet Avenger’s body was one of the finest physical specimens Murray had even seen. Such a waste.

Diana’s face went stone still when she walked around the body and saw the bulging bloodshot eyes that were absolutely, horribly blank. The distended purple tongue drooped out of her mouth, obscenely indecent.

“This is most unusual,” Wonder Woman said, breathing out hard and steeling herself against the horror, as she surveyed the limp figure from close range.

“What is?” The bald ME’s eyebrows rose up. Had he missed something?

“Her costume is quite disheveled. The seams aren’t particularly straight and I think her belt is buckled in the opposite way one normally puts one on.”

“I noticed that too,” said the swarthy Italian detective, Sal Abato, who stood nearby.

“Yeah, Sal said he thought she looked like she got dressed in the dark,” chimed in his partner, a beefy middle-aged redhead by the name of Jimmy Glendennan.

“Well, as I said, she had undergone some sort of rigorous physical ordeal. What are you suggesting, Wonder Woman?”

“I think the killer stripped off Scarlet Avenger’s costume and then redressed her in it.”

“Well, that’s quite possible. The cleansing solution certainly suggests sexual abuse. I’d be surprised if I didn’t find signs of tearing that occur when rape or sodomy occurs. I’ll know more when I examine her. But stripping her could certainly have been part of the scenario. What’s your point, Wonder Woman?”

“Yeah, what are you gettin’ at?” Sal said.

“I’m not sure yet. I just don’t like it. He’s a cold-hearted......person,” Diana murmured through thin lips, restraining the profanity she almost used. “And when I find him. He will pay dearly.”

“When we find him, you mean, missy,” Sal interjected. “Isn’t that what you meant? And, if by chance, you do find him before we do, I don’t expect we’ll have any vigilante justice, will we, Wonder Woman? Because that just wouldn’t be right.”

“I uphold the law, Detective Abato. I do not break it.”

“Glad to hear it, toots.”

Wonder Woman glared at the Italian cop and his neanderthal ways.

“May I bag her now?”

Diana turned to the ME with a cold, hard stare, fighting to keep her anger in check. “You may take this sad fallen comrade back to your lab and find out everything you possibly can about how she died, if that’s what you mean, doctor? This city has lost a rare treasure and I would appreciate it if you would provide her the dignity she deserves as you conduct your investigation, Dr. Banks.”

“Yes, of course. I apologize for my lack of discretion, Wonder Woman. Truly, I’m very sorry.” Motioning to his co-workers standing by the ME’s vehicle, Banks called out. “Gentlemen, if you would be so kind to help me remove the Scarlet Avenger and take her back to the lab for a thorough autopsy, I’d appreciate it. Now!”

Wonder Woman stood off to the side as she watched the remains of the superheroine carefully and respectfully placed in a body bag and carried over to the long-bodied “meat wagon.” The vehicle and the car with the two detectives both drove away from the tall Amazon who stood quietly by the stone letters spelling out “Zoo.” She shook her head sadly.

“Oh, Scarlet. How could you have let this happen to you? I thought you were better than that. How did you mess up so badly?”


Flare leveled off over the Potomac River and circled the tidal basin for a moment, taking in the view. Her expression through the flame that surrounded her body was tight, drawn, haggard. She had rushed down to D.C. from her normal home base of Philadelphia, the city under her protection. Her good friend Stacy Chambers was dead. She couldn’t believe it: The Scarlet Avenger, killed by some psycho not three days ago.

Their friendship had been brief but deep for the three years they’d known each other. They’d met at the Heroine Academy during their training out in the wilds of New Mexico. Flare was two years older than Scarlet Avenger but they ‘d become fast friends during that boot camp. The abandoned airbase had been set up by the Justice League and the training had been intense beyond belief. Both of them almost washed out but they’d helped each other through it and formed a bond as roommates during the two-month course. And now Stacy was gone. The funeral was tomorrow but Flare wanted to visit Stacy’s apartment and look for clues to what she was working on. If she could nail the bastard, Flare thought it would be sweet justice that she could do that for her lost friend.

Flying down to a small mews off of Rhode Island avenue, the female version of the Human Torch, landed and walked toward Stacy’s apartment house. At 5' 10" with a shapely figure sporting 37 C-sized breasts and stunning good looks, the black heroine attracted attention whether she was in full flame mode or just in regular clothing. Dressed as she was in her soft and shimmering metallic orange Flare costume, Janet Pryce got a startled look and then puppy love eyes from the college-aged concierge at the desk in the apartment house lobby.

“Wow! You’re her. You’re Flare.” His wide eyes took her in, registering the short chocolate brown hair layered in a cute pixie cut, the distinctive almond-shaped brown eyes flecked with orange glints, the cute short wide nose and the full sensuous lips. “You’re actually here in my lobby.”

“Yes, I know. I’m here on behalf of a friend. I have to tend to a few things in Stacy Chambers’ apartment.”

“Oh, uh. Um..I think it’s okay. You, uh...you know...she died, right?”

“Yes. I’m going to the funeral tomorrow. I wanted to pick something nice out for the service. A scarf or something. Open casket. Here’s a letter from her attorney authorizing it.”

Janet pulled a folded paper from the fireproof-lined pocket at her thigh and presented it to the lad. He looked it over quickly but wasn’t about to deny Flare entry to the poor girl’s place, especially on a errand of mercy as it were.

“You can go up. Apartment 517. Do you need a key?”

“No, I’ve got one. Thanks. I won’t be too long.”

“Take as long as you like, Flare. And uh...thanks for, you know, everything you do. I see you on the news. I like Philadelphia..”

“Thank you, Ryan.” Flare smiled brightly as she read the name tag on his lapel. Couldn’t hurt to spread a little sunshine. Never know if she’d need to come back here again for something else. She wiggled her fingers in a friendly wave and walked over to the bank of elevators and pushed the call button.

After she got on and the doors closed, Ryan thumped his forehead in disgust. “I like Philadelphia. What a moron.”

It didn’t take the 25-year-old heroine long to find what she was looking for. Stacy’s diary was right where she kept it on the hidden shelf of her secret closet where her Scarlet Avenger costumes were hung. After momentarily fingering the satiny red cloth and working hard not to break down, Janet took the diary back into the bedroom and checked the most recent entries Stacy had written.

Melissa not in class again today. 3 days and no calls returned, no emails answered, no texts. I’m worried. Last seen talking to Professor Pascal after class on Thursday. Where are you, girl?


Diana Prince walked into the beat-up offices of DC Metro Labs as the late afternoon sun glared through the cloudy window and made her squint. Half turning her body, she looked down at the receptionist through an equally cloudy privacy partition with tiny holes drilled through it so she could be heard.

“What can I do for you, darlin’?”

“I am a special envoy to the state department,” Diana said, flashing her ID holder, “and I’d like to ask someone in charge about one of the chemicals you sell.”

“Which chemical, honey?”

“Elimanol”

“Oh, that would be Harvey Johns. Hold on a sec. Harvey to reception, please. Harvey. Reception. He’ll be up as soon as he can get his fat....” Seeing Diana’s scowl, the receptionist balked and retreated into business speak. “He’ll be with you shortly. Have a seat.”

“Thank you.”

This was the fourth chemical supplier that offered Elimanol to the science community. She’d gotten customer lists from the other three and had disbursed them to IADC agents for follow up interviews. This was the last supplier on her list. She hoped this lead would pan out but she felt like she was grasping at straws. But there was nothing else to go on.

The autopsy report had come back confirming what she’d already known. Scarlet Avenger had been raped and sodomized. Evidence of bondage restraints on her wrists and ankles indicated the restraints were either under her long sleeved leotard top and boots or, more likely, she had been all or partially naked at the time of her captivity. Based on the ligature mark and trace fibers, it had been a silk cord that had choked her to death. Her system had significant elements of barbiturates as well as chemicals associated with sexual enhancements. Scarlet had been subjected to a powerful aphrodisiac cocktail. There was also evidence of a tight garment involved, with slight indentations on the skin around the crotch. The body weight was down five pounds compared to the medical files from her regular physician. Whatever she’d gone through had been very strenuous. Her hair was damp with sweat. Elimanol had been used to clean the body and there was no extraneous DNA found on her whatsoever. In fact, strangely, there were no defensive wounds found on the body either. That surprised Wonder Woman. The young heroine had been surprised or duped so quickly that she had not fought back at all. That was extremely unusual for a woman of Scarlet Avenger’s uncanny reflexes.

After waiting for seven minutes, Diana Prince was issued into Harvey’s cluttered office with his helpful arm around her shoulder and offered a complimentary cup of coffee. The coffee she politely declined. She couldn’t do anything about the shoulder squeeze. After curtailing all pleasantries brusquely, Diana shepherded Harvey to the subject of Elimanol.

“Yeah, we don’t sell much of the stuff anymore. First off, once it went off patent, the generic ate Elimanol’s lunch basically. Sales dropped to half of what they were. The only thing that kept it going at all was the scent. It smells a little better than the Cyclo-Pera-shit, pardon my French.”

“Do you have records for those people or labs you have sold it to over the past two years?”

“Hmmm. Let me think. Off hand, I’d say there are four, maybe five customers who use it regularly. Boston Scientific, Meridee Labs, Bonbell Medical, Smythe Science and Kessler Labs.”

“Can you give me the addresses and contact names for those companies, Mr.Johns?”

“Call me Harvey.”

“Can you do that for me, Harvey?”

“No problemo.” Harvey tapped away at his keyboard for a few minutes while Diana looked around the office at the dreary posters for all sorts of chemicals with deadly sounding names. Preservine. Spasmedikal. Detend. Prostamex. Finally, Harvey turned and then clicked on his printer. “Why you interested, if I can ask?”

“You can ask.”

“I see, Fed stuff, huh?”

“Yes.”

Harvey leaned over and pulled the sheets out of his printer and handed it to Diana.

“This is everyone?”

“It’s those five I mentioned.”

“What is the usual amount of an order, Mr.....uh... Harvey?”

“Oh, I’d say three gallons. Three jugs of a gallon each.”

“Is there a shelf life to it? Does it lose it’s effectiveness after a while because there’s a biological agent in the formula?”

“You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” Harvey looked her up and down with great appreciation. “Brains and beauty.” Diana met his gaze when it finally centered back on her eyes after roving at her chest for a long pause.

“Harvey. Hello? The shelf life? Would a smaller lab order lesser amounts and if so, are they on this list?”

“Righteo. Back to the salt mines.” Harvey returned to his keyboard and jabbed away with a bit of frustration. It was almost closing and this cow looked like she wanted to chew her cud all night at his expense. Not that she wasn’t easy on the eyes. When the second sheet slid out onto the printer’s receiving tray, he handed it over to Diana.

“That’s the smaller clients. Seven more. Names and addresses. Anything else, Diana?”

“Have you dealt directly with these smaller labs?”

“Yup.”

“Is there any one individual on this list or the list of larger clients that struck you as odd or whose behavior made you curious?

“Nope.”

“Please think before you answer so quickly, Harvey. This is very important.”

“So important that you can’t tell me about it.”

“It could be a matter of life and death.”

“Well, as I said, there’s not anyone that struck me as odd that I can think of offhand.”

“Okay. I’ll check these out. Thank you for your time, Mr. Johns.”

“Harvey, Diana.”

“Ms. Prince, Harvey.”


It was a very stylish house in Chevy Chase. A brick townhouse on an elegant street. Flare wondered how a college professor could afford such an upscale place in such a fancy section of Washington. Walking up the stoop, Flare pushed the doorbell and waited.

She was dressed in her regular costume. The bright orange fabric was a metallic synthetic material that served as body armor and provided even heat dispersion. The fact that it was form fitting and displayed her outrageously sensuous curves with style and flash was...well, to the point as far as Janet was concerned. She’d designed the costume herself and farmed out its construction to a supplier to the Justice League. The bright orange fabric had thin black flames licking up her legs to mid thigh with matching black flames ranging from her shoulders to her forearm. There was no cape, no mask. Just the unitard and black ankle boots made of a stiffer, more durable version of her costume fabric. She was a bad-ass looking bitch and she had the attitude to match. Anybody on the wrong side of the law was sure to be burned if they didn’t come peacefully.

After a few moments, she heard movement behind the door and it opened to reveal a tall, good-looking man with a close-cropped salt and pepper beard and hair. He had a notebook and eyeglasses in one hand and his other was holding the door open but guardedly keeping it from swinging wide, as if distrustful of her.

“Yes? Can I help you?” An accent. French. This was Professor Pascal in the flesh.

“I hope so, my name is Flare and...”

“Yes, I know of you. You are a superheroine, yes?”

“Some would say that. May I come in?”

“Well, I am very busy. I’m in the middle of an experiment and just had time to come up for some wine before I return downstairs.”

“This won’t take long. Just a few moments really.”

“What would you have of me, young lady?”

“It’s about a missing girl who was a friend of a friend.”

“Ah yes, this is Melissa Andrews. So sad. No one has found her yet?”

“I’m afraid not. May I come in?”

“But the police, they have been here already. Twice. I will tell you what I told them, young lady, I talked to Melissa after class about a week and half ago. That is all. Now I really have to...”

“Please, Professor, it will take just a moment. Her family is so worried. It would mean so much if I could talk to you. I will be brief.”

“Alors, have it your way. Come in then.” He opened the door wider now and offered his hand. “Professor Rene Pascal. Welcome to my home.”

“Thank you for taking the time, Professor Pascal. I won’t trouble you for long.” Flare shook the man’s hand. A smooth grip and one firm shake; all business.

“Come in to my library. Excuse me for just a moment, won’t you?”

“Certainly.”

He led her into the library and then turned backward, put his notebook and glasses on a hall table and called out loudly. “Gregory, Run secondary sequence G9. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Walking into the library, the professor leaned against the fireplace mantle and put his hands into his pockets.

“What is it that you would like to know, Flare?”

Standing with her hands on the back of a wing chair, Flare poses her first question. “This girl, Melissa Andrews, why did she talk to you after class that day?”

“She was very bright. She had a follow up question about neural receptors. My specialty. I was considering asking her if she wanted to assist me in my lab work over the summer.”

“Did you offer it to her.”

“No. The moment was too short. I had another class to teach and I thought she might have had one to go to after mine. I was planning on asking her the next time I saw her. But she never came to the next class. I have told all this to the police before.”

“Uh huh. You said that you have a lab in this house, Professor?”

“Yes, why?”

“I’d love to see it. Another time. I know you’re busy.”

“Well there are some very dangerous chemicals down there. We need to have many safeguards in place. It is not a room you visit lightly.”

“Is it a room that Scarlet Avenger visited Professor?”

“That poor heroine who died recently?” The Frenchman’s eyebrows went up a bit but other than that, the surprise question did not seem to shock him. “Why would you think that?”

“She left some notes about you. I thought she might have paid you a visit.”

“Really?” The professor stopped leaning against the mantle and walked in a small circle in obvious agitation. Then, stopping and walking toward Flare, stood before her and surprisingly took her hands and held them while looking into her eyes. Startled, the heroine did nothing but look back as the man spoke slowly and earnestly.

“I have heard you were good friends with the Scarlet Avenger.” He squeezed her hands in sympathy. “And I’m so sorry for your loss, but I assure you, cherie, that she never came to my home. The only other person besides the police who asked me about Melissa was her friend Stacy....oh, I forget her last name. But she asked me in class, not here. I hope that answers your questions.”

Flare pulled her hands out of Pascal’s hold the moment he finished his heartfelt speech but she wasn’t sure she was buying what he was selling. Something seemed off about all this. His hands were wet, like he was nervous. He was the only connection but there was no kind of proof. There was no one specific thing that tied him directly to the girls. Not really. Not definitely. She was sorry about that but what could she do? Was there another question she should be asking? A trap question of a different kind? There was nothing she could think of right now, nothing that would let her know any new information. That wasn’t good. She might come back later. Find some hidden information or something. Maybe tonight. When the sun went down. When it got dark. That could be a plan. That might work. She thought that would be a clever thing to do. Even neat. Maybe fun.

“Flare? Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You seem distracted.”

“I am. Was. Just thinking about Melissa. And Scarlet. And Stacy.”

“They were all your friends, yes? So sad.”

“Yes. I’m sad.”

Janet realized she was just staring at the carpet patterns and not thinking very clearly. Was she letting her emotions get the better of her? That also was not good. That was bad.

“My goodness. You seem disoriented. I hope you haven’t been exposed to my neurotoxins.”

“What do you mean?” Flare looked at him with concern, wide-eyed.

“From my experiments.” He stared into her pupils and his face twisted into one of fright. “Sacre bleu, your expression is remarkably stupid. I’m sorry....um...blank..ah...confused. Yes, yes, I think you have been contaminated. We must counteract this or the results could be permanent.”

“What? How? Permanent how, Professor?”

“Long term mental retardation. I’ve been trying to map brain patterning with neural transmission experiments on rats. The serums are quite toxic. They may have been on my hands.”

“I...I’m not a rat, professor,” Flare says, backing up awkwardly.

“You must take the antidote quickly.”

“I can go to the hospital. Umm. Fly there...uh..right now. Where is it? Where is the hospital nearest....nearby....around here...?”

“There’s no time for that. They won’t know what to do nearly fast enough. Here, I keep some here on my person at all times,” Pascal says, pulling a syringe out of his pocket.

“NO! I don’t want that. That’s too risky,” Flare’s voice went high in alarm at the thought of getting a shot from a complete stranger.

“You would rather be mentally handicapped the rest of your life? Mais non, surely not.”

“No, of course not...but....”

“Please, Flare, you need this. Let me help you like you’ve helped so many others.”

“...doesn’t feel right....though.. Why would it be in your pocket?.”

“That’s the toxin talking. You’re getting dumber and dumber as we speak. Give me your arm quickly My toxin’s effects are irreversible.”

The tall Frenchman moves the two steps quickly to Flare. She doesn’t back up but she puts her hands up and they are engulfed in flames.

“Stop! Wait! Have to think,” she barks.

Recoiling from the flaming hands, the Frenchman pleads with her. “We’re losing precious seconds. Your modest level of intelligence is clearly spiraling down the drain even as we speak. Please. Give me your arm.”

“But I don’t know....What? Modest? What do mean by... I’m not...stupid. I don’t want to be stupid.”

“More stupid for the rest of your life. You can’t want that.”

“No. But...what..?...”

“Let me come closer.”

She puts her hands down, flames out. Staring in naive hope at the professor. She can feel her fuzziness swelling. Her indecision. Her brain slowing. She was scared to death.

“Okay....” she relents, confused and nervous.. “...uh...okay...”

He steps up to her squeezes two drops out of the syringe to clear any air bubbles and then inserts it into her forearm vein offered up without further resistance. The point goes in, the plunger is pushed and the antidote is delivered up Flare’s arm. The professor is smiling broadly now.

“There. I think we got you in time. You won’t have anything to worry about from here on out.”

“...thank you... professor....I....don’t know why such dangerous toxins aren’t better contr...ohhhhhhhhh....”

The bright brown eyes that were filled with dumb naivety moments ago are now filled with awful insight as Flare swoons against the professor. Her legs turn to jelly, her eyes start to roll up and she collapses against the man’s chest. In a desperate attempt to save herself, Flare tries to ignite but the neural nullifiers and the knockout drug impede her powers severely. Her belly bursts into flames as do her kneecaps but she’s is lost to the drugs now. Pascal throws the partially flaming girl to the rug with horror, feeling the intense heat and panicked about getting badly burned. She is unconscious before she hits the floor. His buckle has melted and his crotch is on fire. He grabs an armchair cover off the couch and pats the small flames out quickly. Then, reaching under the couch, he retrieves a small fire extinguisher he’d put there earlier in anticipation of the arrival of Scarlet Avenger’s fiery best friend. He sprays the unconscious heroine with ample hosings of thick white foam, snuffing out all the flames licking at the girl and the rug.

“You bitch! Now I have to buy a new carpet. I’m going to take that out of your black ass!”


When Flare regains consciousness, she feels sluggish and confused and horny. She is also shivering wildly. She feels like she’s lying in a walk-in freezer she’s so cold. A thin stream of ice cold water drizzles down on her chest from the ceiling. It runs off her body and into the drain set in the floor. Flare is spread eagled on her back on a leather padded table with her head dangling off the head of the table, her neck arched. Steel manacles circle her outstretched wrists. Chains are linked to rings soldered to the corners at the table’s head. A steel ring gag has been forced into her mouth and buckled behind her head. Her knees are bent and forced wide apart by a steel spreader bar fastened between them. The ankles are also encased in steel manacles with thick steel chains connected to rings soldered into the table’s end.. A thin rubber catsuit encases her body from her wrists to her ankles.

“Ohhh...oddd...” He got me too!

She tries to flame on but is much too cold and way too unfocused from some drug to achieve this. With great effort she picks her head up and looks at her body. The cat suit is filled with a network of blue wires that feel like frozen luge runs all up and down her body. That can’t be ice water. I could fight that. Must be something so much colder. What was colder than ice? More ice? She couldn’t think....wait...Liquid..liquid something...what.?.... nitrogen? Liquid Nitrogen. This man was very smart to do that to her. Scarlet was so bright, too, but he took her down. Killed her. And now Flare had stepped right into his trap as well. Was that neurotoxin thing real? She sure felt slower than normal. She was in a bad way, she knew that.

As she lets her head relax backward off the edge of the table she sees from her upside down view that her metallic orange costume is hanging on a hook on the opposite wall. She was in a bad fix and couldn’t think of how she could get out of it. Her thoughts were slow and plodding.

The sound of footsteps sounded in the hall outside the door and then Professor Pascal walked into the room and up to the table. He is wearing only blue silk boxers and a tight blue spandex shirt that showed off impressive pecs for a 40-something man. Flare chastened herself for admiring his physique and letting herself be swayed by his good looks from the moment she entered his domain.

“Well, finally awake I see.”

“Ooo ohn ehd a-ay.....” She begins to make a brash claim but is cut off by him.

“Please, don’t bother finishing that sentence, Flare. It will be unintelligible anyway. Save yourself the trouble. Besides, I’ve got much better things planned for your mouth, as you may have guessed. Even someone as simple-minded as you probably worked that one out for yourself, right?”

“OHH! ONND!”

“Oh, was that some kind of protest, mon ami, because it’s just so difficult to tell.” Reaching down, the Frenchman touches a control on the side of the table and the thin stream of water from the ceiling stops. He looks at the heroine and wags his finger at her. “Between that ring gag and your crude American accent, one can’t understand a thing you say. So maybe it is best that you just shut the fuck up, yes?”

Yanking on the chain and growling through the gag, Flare lunges at the Frenchman only to be stopped short by the steel manacles as they jerk her to a stop, her head a foot away from Pascal’s crotch off to the side of the restraint table, her chest thrusting forward toward him, raw fury in her eyes. Pascal instantly thrusts out his hand and grabs her left tit, squeezing it hard through the thin rubber, drawing a yelp from Flare who jerks back in horrified humiliation. But still his hand grips her breast as he takes a step forward to compensate for her retreat. The cocoa-colored skin beneath the clear rubber is dimpled by his fingertips. And then his whole hand encompasses the front of her ample breast and he squeezes it more softly now, massaging and caressing the pliant flesh.

“...eeeeehhhhnnnn...!” Flare squeaks in despair as her tit is mauled. She presses back into the table’s leather pad but with her wrists heavily shackled off to both sides, her body encased in a nastily effective chill suit and her brain addled with barbiturates and neural inhibitors, the short-haired black heroine can do nothing to prevent his large warm hands from manhandling her girls.

“If you did not want me to fondle these, you should not have thrust them at me, cherie.”

She stares defiantly at him, her anger counteracting the drugs somewhat for the moment. He’s pleased with her spirit as he brings his other hand up to fondle both tits now. He squeezes and mauls them, rubbing them in circles and compressing them under the shifting squeaking rubber. He’s enjoying this foreplay with her, staring right back into those brown eyes with smug impunity. His fingertips move to both nipples now and he tweaks the dark brown nubs, rapidly rolling them between his fingers. This draws out a sudden gasp through the ring gag and Flare’s eyelids flicker and droop momentarily with unexpected pleasure. When they open wide again, the anger has been augmented with a look of sudden need and the young heroine drops her eyes in shame, knowing what they are broadcasting to her nemesis.

“Ah yes, I see you are feeling the effects of the sexual stimulant. It’s extremely powerful, mademoiselle.” The tall doctor smiles wolfishly at her as he continues to tweak and roll her nipples. “You and I are going to pass an extremely intimate evening together.”

His hands now slowly wander down her body, smoothing over her waist and hips to her rubber-clad thighs. He strokes them up and down, sliding his hands all over her, possessing her.

“Before the night is over, you will be reveling in the taste of my cum, delighting in the feel of it on your face...” His hands circle into the insides of her thighs, his thumbs rubbing back and forth over the surface of her neatly packaged and proffered mons. “...and you’ll be coming to shuddering orgasms with the heat of my semen as it shoots deep into your orifices.”

“I ONT! OT EHER!” Avenger shouts her defiance but her sex dampens despite herself. “Never? But you have not even felt yet how my suit feels. Oh, of course you feel the super-cold channels surrounding your skin that keep your famous flame snuffed down to a pitiful nothingness. But, mon amie, you have not felt the joy of what my subjugation suit with its remarkable chip can do along with all the stimulation pads placed over your delightfully sensuous body. Please, allow me to demonstrate my magnificent creation.”

Taking a small remote control from his pants pocket, Pascal pushes a three-digit code into the number keypad on the device and suddenly Flare feels a thrilling tingle of electrical current streaming from the back of both knees up and around her thighs until they meet at the apex of her thighs and circle her groin in a steady circle. Immediately the sequence repeats and Flare’s eyes go wide at the physical demonstration of what the French professor had been rambling on about. The suit had a dual purpose.

Not just a chill suit! It’s a whole body exciter thing!

The sequence repeats again, this time a bit stronger. And then it begins repeating at a much faster rate, less than two seconds from knee to crotch, over and over again. It tickles her thighs, excites her loins and centers on her labia with buzzing pleasure. Flare’s head drops back limply, dangling off the table’s edge, her eyes closed.

“HHUUGGHHNN!” Her grunt is visceral, thick and needy. Her eyes flicker with the pleasure. She feels a growing moistness between her legs, building on the sensations she felt moments ago from his nipple play and brief body massage. This was pleasure on a much higher level. Her mind was a confused jumble of angst but her body was having a hell of a good time.

“You see what my toy can do? And that is one of the simplest settings. You are in for, how do you American’s say it...‘quite a treat,’ yes? So when you say ‘never’ to my description of how much you will enjoy this evening, I must chuckle at your foolishness. Your friend Scarlet felt the same at first. And, as she quickly learned, as will you, things will go exactly how I planned. That is a certainty!”

Flare’s body shivers with a combination of sensual excess and the stunning chill of the suit. As the stimulation cycle slows down again, she lies on the table feeling heavy in body and mind. A long low shuddering sigh issues from her gag. Her head hangs low off the table as the young heroine tries to gather her strength and wits. But the Frenchman has other ideas.

“And now that you are properly stimulated...wait, let me check to be sure.....” The sound of the plastic zipper in the suit and the waft of cool air on her privates pulls Flare’s attention to her crotch and she lifts her head to see the Frenchman’s hand between her legs.

What’s he doing?

Her body jerks suddenly as she feels his fingers spread her labia and another finger probe into the slushy opening of her snatch.

“EUHHH!”

“Oh yes, indeed. Nice and wet.”

Suddenly there is a cool brush of metal at the lips of her cunt that surprises Flare and draws another grunt. And then her body is invaded by the slick sudden insertion of a wide, chrome-covered dildo shoved deep into the very heart of her sex.

THWWERRPP!

“AAAHHH!” Flare gasps in shock and pleasure as the smooth hard tool takes up uninvited but happy residence in her vagina. It fills her completely. Owning her now. Making itself the house guest that wouldn’t leave. And suddenly it’s running through the halls of its new home and banging on the walls as Pascal turns on the motor and the device comes to life with a vengeance.

BBBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZ

“OOHHHHHHH!” Flare gasps and bucks on the table, her mouth tightening down on the ring gag, her tongue fluttering, her wrists and ankles straining against the manacles and her eyes clamped shut as the wave of delight passes through her body from her toes to her twisting, shaking head.

“Oh, you’re quite the live, flapping fish, aren’t you?” Pascal smiles down at the jerking, naked brown beauty encased in rubber on his table, delighted at her sensitivity. It will give both of them much pleasure. He treasures the full 30 seconds of watching her flail, grunt and twist in her constraints, her breasts wobbling in the thin rubber, her thighs spreading and closing, revealing her twitching pussy with its chrome passenger, her hips rotating, her ankles shaking and pulling helplessly at the steel cuffs. And then her body jerks a final time and comes to rest on the table.

As the shock of the dildo’s sudden occupation of all her senses wanes a bit in her mind, Flare is able to finally regain a measure of control, even with the buzzing dildo and the aphrodisiac working into her system. She pants through the gag and her eyes sharpen a bit and she masters the excitement within her. She doesn’t raise her head. It still hangs off the table but she finds her calm inner center and finds the dildo’s vibrations are manageable for now. Her breathing slows and she feels a small level of calmness.

I can fight this. I can win.

“Well, what have we here? A surge of willpower? Amazing!” Pascal is truly surprised. The drugs and the suit are a combination of sexual punches that have turned the majority of his test subjects into drooling fools in mere moments but this is different. Flare’s resistance is much greater than his common college girls, and even significantly surpasses that of Scarlet Avenger. “Fascinating, my dear! Who would have thought this? Just fascinating.”

Centered and calm, Flare puts her id into a separate room in her mind and is able to withstand the pleasure. She feels the stim pads with their live sequencing jolts circulating around her. She accepts the coldness. She manages the moment. The neural inhibitors actually make things simpler in a way. Less distractions from random firings. More attention to the basics of letting the pleasure be without having it pinball within her brain as much.

I can do this!

She feels a tug on the spreader bar and her knees are raised slightly along with her rump.

Whatever he’s doing I can handle it. I won’t submit to any...

“HUUUUHHH!”

The dildo shoved into her ass is a nastier guest than the one in her cunt. It hurts more, it scrapes her walls, it occupies every inch of space and it won’t shut up.

BBBRRRAAAAZZZZZZ. BBBRRRAAAAAZZZZZ. BBBRRRAAAAAZZZZZZZZ.

Flare is back to bucking again for the moment. Her hips bang against the leather pad as the pleasure of both dildos works against her in tandem now. She is frenzied with lust as she loses the calm center of control. She has to find it again. Has to recapture the id and put it back into its quiet room. It’s running wild. She feels it in the back of her head, wide eyed and doing jumping jacks. That won’t do at all. Come on, settle down, sister. Be calm again. Be....

Suddenly Pascal twists her nipples to distract her and the suit goes into overdrive. Sensors all around her chest light up her nerves, pulsing and circling her tits with rushing and buzzing sensations that widen her eyes and draw harsh pants out of her. He begins to fondle her

roughly and her breasts ache with delight. And then all the suit’s circuits fire up. From her wrists, down her sides to her hips to her toes and then back up the insides of her thighs to her groin, constant cycling rounds of delicious neon sensations light up her entire body and focus her attention on the buzzing dildos. This was way too much to handle.

Flare writhes on the table as Pascal squeezes her tits and runs his hands all over her body, not giving her any chance to regroup, to withstand the pleasure. The persistent catsuit runs the circuit continuously now, cycling all over her body with electric precision that drives Flare mad with pleasure. Over and over the sensations from the stimulation pads course over her skin, tickling, tensing, releasing and returning again and again. Her head dangles loosely off the table. Flare is stunned into helpless pleasure. Pascal’s unseen hands fondle her tits, hold her waist,

rub her thighs. The dildos have been ramped up to high gear now, buzzing away. The aphrodisiac possesses her soul now, intensifying everything. It’s beyond any control and Flare loses herself in the rush of her orgasm as it fills her brain with a jerking unchecked spasm of pure ecstacy. She freezes in the man’s grasp on the table, her breasts squeezed tight in his palms, her eyes clamped shut, a loud, pleasured grunt bursting from her mouth.

“GGHHUUUUUUUNNNHHH!”

“You see, my bon cherie, my Flare, it is, as they say, a cakewalk to get you to cum with this suit and my drugs. It makes no matter that you are a so-called superheroine. It matters only that you are a woman. And I know how to control women. I am, after all, French, yes?”

Pascal lets out a long laugh and then punches in a new three digit code into the remote control for Flare’s pleasure suit. The very cycle it had used before is now going in reverse mode. The stim pads fire away, the sensations going faster and faster around her body in the opposite direction even as the two dildos kick into their highest vibration mode.

The overstimulated heroine cannot begin to handle this sudden second onslaught of absolute pleasure and she writhes and shakes in Pascal’s arms now as she cums violently for a second time, lost in the circle of his hold. Her eyes flutter under her lids, her knees shake the spreader bar to a near blur and her pussy releases a second thick rush of juices into the crotch of her suit. After half a minute of trembling aftershocks and twitching, Flare goes limp and he lets her slack form relax down onto the padded table, her chest rising and falling in slow steady heaves, her mouth drooling heavily from the ring gag onto the leather padding. The heroine is spent, her short sweaty hair is disarray, her almond-shaped eyes open but vacant. And there are several hours yet to go.


Diana hangs up the phone with a grim expression and a shake of her head. Steve Trevor pokes his head into her office and gives a friendly wave at first. Then, seeing her grimness, steps in.

“Problems, Diana?”

“It’s that Scarlett Avenger case we’re working on. The only lead we have is leading nowhere for the moment. No agents interviewing any of the companies using Elimanol have found anything unusual yet. No vibes, nothing. And that’s the sixth one that I’ve personally called that really didn’t produce anything either. I’m just frustrated.”

“Well, you know, detective work can be a grind a lot of the time,” Steve said. “But something may break soon. You can’t always tell about these things.”

“I just hope we don’t find some other poor girl left for us to find.”

“Is there anything that would lead you to believe this guy would strike again.”

“It was so well planned and he got away with it...”

“For now....” Steve interjected.

“Fine, for now. I just think he may feel he can do it again. I asked Wonder Woman to put out warnings through the Justice League to all heroines throughout the U.S. about this guy’s M.O., as much as we know of it anyway. I just hope its enough.”

“There’s not much more you can do about it, Diana,” Steve said, patting her shoulder. “And we’ve got a debriefing with the Admiral about that Straits of Hormuz incident in five minutes.”

“Right. I just have four more names on the list to contact, some smaller firms. I’ll get back to them after the briefing,” the tall brunette sighed.

“Okay then, I’ll meet you in conference room #5 in just a bit. I’ve got to get a file off my desk.”

“Fine. I’ll see you there.”

Diana enjoyed the view of Steve’s butt in his tight uniform trousers as he walked out of her office. Absently she gnawed on her thumbnail as she pondered what she could do if the chemical company leads led nowhere.


Flare wakes up because she can’t breathe. Something hard and warm is blocking her throat entirely. And her nose is being pinched. Her eyes snap open and she sees the wrist of one hand stretched above her eyes. It’s firm fingers are squeezing her nostrils tightly shut. Another hand is coming from off to the side and clutching her throat. From behind her head, the French bastard’s hairy ballsack is bouncing against her nose and his cock is thrusting through the hole in the ring gag, the length of him choking off her airway. She is being face fucked!

“AAAAGGKKK!”

“Swallow me. All of me, bitch!” Pascal’s face is the definition of fury. Red and fierce and mad-eyed. Flare can’t see it from her vantage point since his chest looms over her, but if she could, she’d fear for her life even more, if that were possible.

The hand on her throat was tightly holding her head in place. The hot, hard cock was drawing in and out of her mouth now but it wasn’t pulling out far enough to allow any air in. And now Flare’s face was getting red as her eyes bulge in fright. The sensation of the hard muscled member rubbing flush against the walls of her throat is painful, horrifying, life-threatening.

Can’t end like this! It can’t!

Her wrists strain with all her energy against unforgiving steel manacles and achieve nothing. Her ankles yank and strain against the bright steel cuffs at the other end with table-jarring jerks to no avail. There is no escape for Flare. She’s much too tired at this point.

And then, without warning, the cock is pulled all the way out of her throat and a screaming desperate wheeze of relief shrieks out of the young black heroine’s mouth. Her ample chest heaves and wobbles inside the clinging rubber as her lungs exert a mighty effort to fill themselves. Her eyes tear up with joy. She’d been given another chance in a night where all her luck and hope had been systematically stripped away.

It has been four hours since her first orgasm of the evening which seemed like a lifetime ago. She had no idea how many thrilling pinnacles of pleasure she’d experienced in the interim. Three dozen? Four? Her mind was a dull blank slate at the moment. The Frenchman had let the suit and the dildos do his dirty work for most of the time. And it had been relentlessly efficient. Every 15 minutes a new program would initiate and tease and grow in its sensual assault on her body. Synchronized with the two dildos, the effects were devastatingly effective at reducing her to a blinded, jerking collection of quivering muscles and drool. Over and over again it had happened.

And now Flare was completely exhausted. The demon suit clings to her sweaty skin with pockets of moisture and condensation everywhere. Plastic zippers had been opened periodically to release the collected puddles of her cum, her sweat and his cum, his sweat. She was due for another draining.

Pascal had fucked her twice during this endless evening. Laughing, he’d palmed her knees as the spreader bar held them open for his pleasure and shoved himself deep inside her, grinning at first like a crazy man as he had his easy way with her, sawing his prick in and out of her as she lay there in limp, dazed acquiescence. Then he got serious and started ranting about someone named Marie and how Wonder Woman had killed her. Or left her to die, which was the same thing to him. Flare couldn’t follow his train of thought with so much pleasure cascading through and around her body as his cock was still hard inside her gripping pussy during his wild-eyed rant. Every spastic motion during his shouting tirade had sent shivers of pleasure through her that made her weak with joy despite his mania.

Eventually, he calmed down and proceeded to enjoy himself again, leaning low into her, holding her waist and in his two sweaty palms and thrusting between her thighs like he was trying to push a cookie across a finish line with the tip of his fat thrusting dick. She had cum hard on that one, her head hanging back, eyes dazed at half-mast and her thighs trembling like a Parkinson’s patient. It had filled her with delight and disgust in equal measure.

At times throughout the night, she’d tried to concentrate and bring on her flame to melt her shackles and fry the French prick and his prick to cinders. But the drug she’d been injected with prevented her from concentrating. More critically, the suit’s cold blue chilling tubes prevented her body temperature from raising to point where she could ignite in any way. He was very careful about always checking that readout!

At some other point in the night, (Flare had lost track when she’d lapsed into brief periods of black unconsciousness) he’d fucked her again, squeezing her chest like some inflatable doll and slobbering all over her neck. He was only wearing his silk boxers at that point, his cock sticking out of the fly as the smooth silk brushed against her nether lips, adding extra stimulation to her already overheated libido. The spreader bar had been removed and her legs were freer to move around the surface of the table, although her ankles were still firmly secured in steel. She’d pumped her hips and writhed eagerly beneath him as he thrust back and forth. She spread her thighs as wide as she could with no spreader bar to restrain them. Then closed them and opened them wide. It wasn’t to help bring him to a faster climax in order to get him off her. The suit and that aphrodisiac he pumped into her made her lust for the sensations. She craved them despite herself. She had clung to him with her inner thighs like a gymnast as he came within her with a lusty yell. Her own shout joined his moments later as his ejaculation sent her into a secondary orgasm. So many shouts and fevered, juicy flows in the evening. She was absolutely spent by them.

Thinking morosely to herself, Flare contemplated her behavior. She was deeply ashamed of her actions throughout the night but knew if his cock were to venture back to her pussy, she’d welcome it with deep, satisfying grunts like a sow in heat.

And now a new humiliation had been heaped upon her. Face fucked! She was near to tears, her reserve of energy completely depleted, her willpower shown to be tissue-thin and easily ripped to shreds, her stamina against his campaign of sexual torment had been drained away, her tank empty. She was beginning to hate herself and wishing the evening to end, one way or another. At this point she didn’t care.

Stepping forward, the Frenchman loomed over her once again, the hard dick bouncing against the tip of her wide nose. Again it bounced there and then trailed across her cheek, the heat and slickness of it leaving a glistening thread of pre-cum on her pretty face. The hand that had been holding his dick now brushed her damp bangs off her forehead.

“Suck me off, Flameout! Show me how a prim and proper American superheroine gives an A#1 American blowjob.”

“...eeez.....ohh......” Flare protests weakly.

“Do it, bitch. NOW! Besides, I’m genuinely curious. I’m pretty sure you people are naturally good at it.”

A sex fiend and a racist! Can this night get any worse?

The sudden appearance of a scalpel in Pascal’s hand from a drawer in the table confirms the sad fact that the night can, in fact, take a serious turn for the worse. He lowers it near her face, the point waving in the air above her.

“Don’t make me damage these lovely features of yours, cherie. After all, it is only a blow job. Not worth losing your life over, certainement? What do you say, eh? Be the good sport, yes?”

The wide-eyed heroine says nothing, her neck arched, her body frozen with fear, her eyes glued to the scalpel.

“Nod your head, moron, if you will do this blowjob to me.”

Flare nods and the scalpel is put back in the drawer.

“Besides, we both know by now that you’re going to enjoy sucking on my cock, just as you have thrilled to everything else this evening. Oh, no sense denying this. You’ve proven very clearly that you are quite the slut, my hot little road Flare. However, to make it even more fun for you, I will spray my penis with this special strawberry flavoring I purchased in a novelty sex shop. Let me know if you like it when you’re done, yes?”

Flare stares at this lunatic with disbelief.

“Nod your head again, you pathetic half-wit, if you understand.”

Another nod produces a small can from a second drawer with a badly screened image of a strawberry on it and the name and slogan in bold cursive letters: “Prick-licious! Artificial strawberry flavoring. It’s Un-Humming-Believable!”

Uncapping the stubby little spray can, Pascal holds the nozzle over his dick and presses it down. A narrow cone of fine pink mist covers his shaft and his balls. He directs the hissing spray onto the head of his cock, coating it lightly. The mist in the air over Flare’s head slowly floats down onto her face, filling her senses with the taste, smell and sticky resin of strawberries. It makes her eyelids a bit gummy and when she opens them with an extra jerk she sees the 7"long cock bobbing an inch away from her gaping, ring-gagged mouth.

“Bon appetite!”

Shuffling forward, the grinning Frenchman guides his penis through the hole in the gag so just the glans is in her mouth. Thinking of the scalpel and knowing there was no possible recourse open to her, the heroine who had once single-handedly used mini-fireballs to take down a heavily-armed motorcycle gang of a dozen men holding hostages in a check-cashing dive in Inner Philadelphia slowly sucks in her cheeks around the head of her captor’s rigid cock. The taste of sweet strawberries fills her mouth, covering the tang of his cock and its wafting pheremones.

I can live with this.

The cock is withdrawn and thrust forward again, slightly deeper. Flare sucks down again and the upper circle of his shaft flavors her mouth with ripe berries again. With effort, she slides her tongue along the underside of the shaft and the happy professor jerks his prick back and forth through the gag’s hole with unexpected pleasure.

“AAHHH! C’est si bon! I knew this was true. You are good. Exactly as I suspected. And so, to reward you and encourage you, I think Routine 7C will please you, yes?” After punching in a new three-digit code, the professor puts the remote in the side drawer of the restraint table and leans forward. He places his hands under Flare’s hips and then slides them under her rubber-wrapped butt cheeks and squeezes. Then he rolls them in circles. “And some old-fashioned manual manipulation as well, I think.”

The suit begins a new routine that jerks Flare’s eyes open wide. Her clit stim pad is suddenly buzzing away with a humming electric charge that draws a gasp past the cock shaft and deep into her lungs. And the nipple stims are close behind, firming them up rapidly. Inhaling strawberry essence and cock sweat, Flare chokes out a harsh bark and then closes her eyes and gathers herself for a bit, trembling with excitement but handling the surge of pleasure. And then she begins sucking in earnest on the cock as it edges forward, deeper into her mouth, stretching out her cheek.

“Mmmm...uuuuhhh....mmlllphhhh....mummm....hllphhh.....hmmmm...” Cooing and murmuring with the thrill her body is undergoing, Flare sucks hungrily at the tasty muscle, savoring the slippery sides of its generous width as it rubs forward and back between her drawing cheeks. She feels the heat of Pascal’s toned body through her thin rubber catsuit as he leans over the full length of her figure. His strong hands fondle and squeeze her buttocks with constant firm strokes that drift from her fleshy lower butt around to the outsides of her thighs and back again. The clit and nipple pad are bringing her to full arousal. An orgasm is only minutes away, if that. His cock is nearly at the opening of her throat now and she is sucking away with gusto and licking his shaft often. She couldn’t get enough of his hard manhood now. She gulped him in, squirming her body forward as far as the chains would allow to bring him deeper into her throat.

That was better.

His shaft filled her mouth and clogged her throat but her nostrils were wide and compensating perfectly.

“Mmmmmm....uullpppphhhhh...ohhhhhh....ahhhhhhh....mmmmmhhhhh....” Flare’s blowjob was becoming world class, considering she had only her mouth available.

Without warning, the vibrator suddenly made a reappearance. The crotch flap had been zippered open and yanked down by Pascal in a fraction of a second and the dildo’s rounded tip slid between her nether lips like a guided missile. The wide 8-inch chrome tool filled her snatch with buzzing coolness and a new plateau of pleasure. This gets Flare sucking down on the man’s cock with the intensity of a vacuum hose. She sucks and licks and sucks again, her cheeks hollowed and blown out, over and over in a frenzy of shocking lust. Her eyes burn with intensity as her body commands her thoughts. Her wrists pull desperately at the manacles wanting nothing more than to caress his balls, stroke his shaft, palm her hand all over his cock head and show him her unfettered true talents without the bondage. She was little more than a crazed whore in heat right now.

She could feel him harden even more in her mouth at her dedication to his pleasure. His excitement was nearing its peak but he wasn’t thrusting at all just then, merely hovering over her. His shaft filled her mouth and poked two inches down into her throat. She bobbed her head back and forth to please herself and stimulate him even more.

And then his prick shifted and drove deeper as the Frenchman suddenly climbed on the table and settled down on her body, pressing her flat on the table as he rotated the dildo inside her snatch.

“HHUUUUNNPPHH! AWWGGGK! OHHHHH!”

The full-on sexual assault was as shocking as it was exhilarating. He was pumping the dildo in and out of her sopping wet pussy now at the same time his hips were rocking up and down, driving his cock as deeply into her as he could. His blue silk boxers blocked her view entirely as his ballsack bounced up and down on her nose. Inside Flare’s mouth, his hard hot glans rubbed the deep walls of her throat with a steady motion that perfectly matched the rhythm of the chrome tool between her legs. It made her swoon. Just then, his motion froze. The sudden extra stiffness and stillness of him in her mouth filled her with a deep, drug-induced pleasure that she’d made him cum. With that, as well as the stim pads humming away at her clit and nipples and the constant sawing friction of the dildo working her cunt: it was all far more than the young heroine could stand.

“EEEEEEEEEEEAAAHH!” Flare went blind with ecstacy and he was a fraction of a second behind her.

“GGHHHHUUUNNHHH!”

Her eyes blurred, her body froze in time, she went rock still beneath him and felt his cock erupt into her throat. She swallowed a geyser’s worth of his hot cum, the force of it filling her throat twice over and a third time as she gulped and gulped in order to breathe. Between her legs, she was virtually geysering herself. A wide spray of her juicy cum arced onto the leather pad like a misty waterfall. Her body spasmed a second time and thick rivulets of ecstacy ran out of her cunt like a river seeking the sea. It stained the leather and sought its own level in the creases of the table pad. The panting in the room was loud and raucous, the pair of bodies clinging together in the dull throes of mindless aftersex.

Whoa! That was one for the books!

What a fucking great mouth on this cunt!

After several moments of absolute silence, Flare moaned.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhh....” It was long and low and stifled by his cock. The hefty muscle was now slowly shrinking, its work done. Trails of his white cum drained out of the corners of her mouth and drained down her hanging head into her eyes. For the moment, lost in oblivion, Flare didn’t care. She just lay there spreadeagled on the table an exhausted, satisfied slut of infinite shame and absolute pleasure. After a moment longer, Pascal pulled himself off the table, waved at her in a gesture of exhausted gratitude and wandered out of the laboratory. Flare fell into a dreamless sleep of the dead. Nobody commented on the strawberry flavoring.


Diana is down to the second to last phone number on the list provided by Harvey Johns. It was Pascal Research LLC.

Not incorporated, could possibly be a very small lab.

A tiny gleam of hope blossomed in Diana’s breast as she dialed the number. It rang for six times and Diana was about to hang up. It was after 9 pm after all, most labs would be closed. This was a long shot and she’d probably have to call back in the morning. More time lost, more chance for some sexual predator to work his evil.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, I’m sorry to bother you this late but its rather important. Is this Pascal Research?”

“Uh..yes. Who is this, please?” The French accent was immediately noticeable and the inflection in his voice told Diana that although he spoke English, it didn’t come naturally to him.

“My name is Diana Prince. I’m with the IADC, a government organization dedicated to homeland security. Among other things.

“And why are you calling me at this late hour, Miss Prince?”

“Again, I apologize sir. May I ask your name, for the record?”

“Record? What record? What is this about?”

Diana frowned at her rookie mistake. She’d put this man on the defensive with a display of high-handed officiousness. Not a good start.

“I just mean for my notes. I’m making a routine follow-up with all the labs in the area who have purchased a certain chemical in the past few years.”

“Which chemical would that be?”

He still hasn’t given me his name. Hmmm.

“Is this Mr. Pascal I’m speaking with?”

“Yes it is, Ms. Prince. About which chemical are you seeking information?”

Stilted proper English construction. How long as he been in this country not to know idiomatic speech?

“It’s called Elimanol.”

“Ah yes, we use it quite frequently in our lab work. It’s a cleansing agent, as you’re probably aware. We studiously prevent DNA migrations in our lab. Bad for results. Ruinous actually. We like the Elimanol for that. And it has a pleasant scent.”

“I see,” Diana nodded standing in her apartment’s living room on her cell phone. Pretty standard reaction. Nothing suspicious there.

“When was the last time you ordered a supply of this chemical?”

“If you have my name from our supplier, I’m surprised you don’t already have that information, Ms. Prince.”

“Uh, no, he didn’t provide that. Just your company name and contact number. Is this your lab that I called?”

“No. Yes. It’s my home and my lab.”

“So you’re a small operation then.”

“Small but doing critical research,” replied the French researcher somewhat testily. “A great many breakthroughs have come out of labs no larger than mine, Ms. Prince.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Pascal. It is Doctor, correct.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I didn’t mean to imply anything. Has any of your supply of Elimanol gone missing lately. Any unaccounted for gallon jugs misplaced or lost?”

“May I ask what this is about and why Homeland Security would be interested, Ms. Prince.”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential, Doctor, at this point. Have you lost any of the chemical, sir?”

“None whatsoever.”

“You sound quite certain.”

“Being the only employee of my business, I assure you I keep very careful records and precise control over my chemicals.”

“I see. Well, I thank you, Doctor, for your time. Oh, you haven’t ever met the Scarlet Avenger have you, Doctor?”

“Pardon?” By slipping suddenly into the French pronunciation of the word, Pascal raised a red flag in Diana’s mind. Was he nervous or just confused by her sudden posing of a question out of left field. “Who is this person to whom you are referring?”

Didn’t he read the papers? Her face and name were all over the news in the past week.

“She was the victim of a sex crime, Doctor. And her body was drenched with Elimanol. That’s why we’re following up so closely.” Diana didn’t like releasing critical crime information like that. It was a holdback, something only the perpetrator would know. She was playing a desperate hunch.

“I see.” Dead silence on his end after that short comment. No sympathy. No horror. No reaction at all. Not a lot of humanity about the man. But she’d met a lot of scientists like that, especially researchers who were wrapped up in their own worlds. It could mean nothing.

“We’re just trying to bring her assailant to justice.”

“I wish you the best of luck with that, Ms. Prince. Is there anything else?”

“No, not for now Doctor Pascal. Thank you for taking the time to talk with me.”

“Not at all. Good evening.” He hung up and so did Diana.

There was nothing substantially wrong in the conversation but Diana simply got a strange vibe from the man. She was probably profiling him as a foreigner and doing him a disservice to boot, but no one else on the list had given her any reaction. Maybe she was just grasping at straws. She dialed the last number on her list. It rang eight times and then went to voicemail. Diana would try them again tomorrow and try to get some extra background on Pascal Research. In the meantime, she had a patrol she had to go on and then a two-hour shift at the Justice League satellite. It was going to be a late night.

Back at Pascal Research LLC, the thoughtful professor stood over his desk phone and smiled. Things were going right on schedule. And now he was looking forward to yet another session with his lovely African American captive. He began whistling as he walked out of the room.


When Janet opened her eyes again, she was staring at the floor. She’d been turned over on the restraint table, still chained, still captive. The rubber catsuit was stilling clinging to her body like the hothouse, sweat-filled uncomfortable second skin it was. Thankfully, the ring gag had finally been removed and she worked her jaw muscles and they clicked and chattered like castanets.

Still, she was barely able to lift her head, she was so very, very tired. The continuous evening of sex had taken everything out of her. Everything. She just wanted to go home. She realized she was so out of it and forlorn that she was crying. No, actually blubbering now. Her mouth quivering, copious tears falling, and now wracking sobs shaking her.

“Oh..huh.....huh.....ooohhhhhh...sob....no...no....huh...uhh.....”

She was so distraught, she didn’t even realize that a thin linked chain had been looped loosely around her throat with each end fastened to the front edge of the restraint table. She tried to collect herself, to get back into heroine mode but it was hard. Her thoughts were still so slow in forming, her strength was a fraction of what she’d been, her nerves were frayed to their breaking point and beyond. This Frenchman Pascal had beaten her down to a shell of herself with sex and drugs. The bastard had used her in every way he could. She tried hard to let her anger build but even that effort was exhausting.

When he walked into the laboratory wearing a set of green boxers and a matching spandex top while whistling, Flare was hard pressed not to break down again. She’d just managed to achieve a badly transparent facade of stoicism. He was obviously dressed to fuck her again. Her body involuntarily responded to this input from her dulled brain and she felt her loins dampen at the thought. That notched up her anger a touch.

He’s already trained me to desire his body, the French prick!

What neither Flare nor Pascal knew was that in the process of flipping her body over, one of the cooling tubes got a minor kink in the area under her chest. Tiny, unseen and detected by the readout as a 10% drop in efficiency from 98 to 88. If one didn’t look closely, you could confuse the numbers easily.

Pascal walked over to the restraint table and looked down at his rubber-encased prize. It was a shame that he had to complete this part of the experiment since he had truly enjoyed himself tremendously with this unbelievably sexy chocolate mademoiselle. But science was a hard mistress and he had to be sure the table’s new chain drive mechanism worked properly. He would absolutely need it for his next experiment with his strongest quarry yet: A true super-powered heroine that could smash him and his lab to bits in the blink of an eye. But he had worked out a very specific plan of attack and was confident that he could pull it off. But that was for later, right now, he had to concentrate his attention on ensuring clean, definitive results with this subject.

“Are you comfortable, mon cherie?”

“No. I want to go home.”

“Well, why don’t we play one more sex game and then you may go.”

“What? What is it?”

“It’s called breath play. Have you ever tried it?”

“No. And I don’t want to,” reduced by exhaustion and the neural inhibitors to a petulant childishness, Flare pouts moodily on the table.

“No breath play, no release. Those are the rules, cherie.”

“I do this, you promise I get out of here?”

“I promise. I will gladly take you out myself.”

“I’ll take myself out, thank you. So, what do you want me to do?”

“It is most simple for you actually. You just lie there and I do all the work and you have all the fun. Well, almost all the fun. I enjoy myself too a tiny bit.”

“I don’t get it?”

“There’s not so much to get, my pet. I simply enter you anally and...”

“Oh, I see where this is going,” Flare cuts him off with a snarl, her energy level rising with her righteous indignation. “Butt-fuck the black bitch! Typical stereotyped racist honky bullshit! Black women all love it up the ass!”

“Actually, mon amie, it is my customary preference to GIVE it up the ass, if you must know! The fact that you are black has really nothing to do with it. Unless, of course, you do prefer it that way. Many women do. Black and white.”

“Well I don’t, you sick fuck.”

“Have you ever had anyone do your rear. Really good, I mean to say?”

“Uh...no. Had it done once, but it hurt like hell. Not good at all.”

“Then you can’t judge. It was a poor sampling. You need a wider control group.”

“He was definitely trying to widen my control group, I can tell you that!”

“Zoot alors! You are very funny. I have treasured our time together this evening. I regret it has to end.”

“Yeah, well all good things and all that. Tell me about the breath play part.”

“That, too, is easy. You will have your air restricted by the device around your neck for a few moments and....”

“What?” Cutting him off again, Flare yanks and pulls on the manacles with rising panic.“What have you DONE?”

Scarlet had been strangled! He planned the same thing for her!

She jerks and strains in her restraints, whimpering in total frustration and beginning to hyperventilate. Pascal merely stands there and watches while shaking his head. Too weak to maintain this for long, the wild-eyed heroine tucks her chin in and looks down as best she can. She can barely make out a glint of metal hanging around her throat. She shakes her head and neck and can feel the light, loose chain dangling against her skin. It seemed so insubstantial that she loses her panicked edge. Chains of this weight were breaking all the time on her. She’d lost at least three pendants in her Janet Pryce identity thanks to inferior chains like this.

“You’re going to kill me!” She yelps, still afraid, daring him to tell the truth.

“Mais non! No I am not. You will feel the chain tighten but it is more like a, how do you say this...ah...a symbolic chain. You can see how light and ineffectual it is. It gives the sensation of choking without the true harm, yes? Just enough to fool the brain and the body into ultimate pleasure.”

“Symbolic, huh?”

“You choke a bit, you’re senses heighten, you appreciate every feeling, every sensual nuance, yes? Then the paltry chain releases, maybe even breaks, and you cum like a broken water main.”

“With this little necklace?”

“Yes.”

“Well if it breaks before you get off, I hope you don’t get all upset. This thing feels pretty flimsy.”

“I am not concerned.”

“It’s your party. Let’s just get this done so you can fulfill your promise and I can get out of here.”

“Excellent. But so the anal sex is pleasurable, I will set the subjugation suit to Routine 3A.”

“Oh no, not again. Not the suit, please don’t! I’m so, so tired!”

“You will want this, I assure you, Flare. You’re sphincter has to be most relaxed so the pleasure abounds, yes? It is for but one last time.” He punches in the three digit code as the young black heroine whimpers in exhausted frustration, at least until the suit begins to cycle. Then she feels the stim pads on the tops of her toes buzzing slightly, easing her into a nice relaxation. The pads along her spine run up and down it’s length, adding to her calmness and easing her tension. Her shoulders are lightly buzzed next, cycling in circles that have Flare sinking into the table’s leather pad with a light, feathery feeling. Slowly the spinal stims lower down are activated, one by one, lower and lower until the pad on her sternum is charging her lower spine with waves of warm, glowing delight. The entire suit is devoted to her dazed and limp acquiescence and, like every other routine the suit has run throughout the night, it is successful. And then the excitement subroutine of Routine 3A is engaged and Flare feels her nipples tickled lightly at first, and then her clit. Surprisingly, next comes a warm buzzing at the crown of her head. Buried in her hair, the lone stimulation pad placed there works off of high-frequency waves. The rush of pleasure from the four zones, her snatch, her ass, her tits and her head combine to give her a shuddering quiver of whole body sensual delight. That is when Pascal’s hands undoes the plastic zipper covering the butt access flap and pulls it down with slow, gentle care, maintaining the calmness, relaxation and mild body-wide stimulation that the suit has created. His warm hands slowly and steadily reach between her naked ass cheeks and gently pull them apart. She sighs gently, a willing participant with the suit handling the driving.

She feels two things simultaneously. Pascal’s warm breath caressing her neck and the tip of his penis pushing between her cheeks. No, it’s not his penis, it’s a finger, warm and slick with some kind of gel. He spreads it over her anus, slowly in gentle circles, even as his breath wafts up and down her sensitized neck. She cringes with sensual pleasure and giggles like a schoolgirl when he does this. Her hands shake out within the manacles, relaxed and limp. She shakes her ankles next, her body compliant and waiting.

The penis is next. This is definitely his penis. The warmth of its tip, the wide roundness as it fits perfectly between her cheeks feels welcome to her. She sighs with mild surprise. He is definitely better at this than that guy Buster who, now that she thinks of it, was way too aptly named. She chuckles at the thought even as the Frenchman’s hard dick presses its way patiently but insistently into her well-greased, relaxed and totally undefended butt.

“Mmmmmmhhhh.” Flare moans in delight as the pain-free and gullible rape of her ass proceeds smoothly and efficiently. Pascal’s first phase of his final experiment with the young, naive and thoroughly disoriented heroine is continuing exactly as he planned. Her guard is down completely thanks to the combination of neural inhibitors, the aphrodisiac, the barbiturates and the remarkable subjugation suit. The trusting subject is completely under his command. Even more than the Scarlet Avenger was. It was all coming together very nicely.

He pushes his dick deeply into her now, pulling apart her soft round ass cheeks and then slowly beginning to withdraw half the length of his cock before pushing it back in, deeply with a forceful thrust now.

“Uugghnnn!”

“That did not hurt, did it,” he asks with false concern.

“Not in the least. Whenz da breathplay?” Flare’s voice is thick with sleepy pleasure.

“Very soon,” he answers, luxuriating in the feel of her warm tight brown ass enveloping his cock over its full length. From her side, she too is aroused and pleased by the length of his hard, muscular prick buried to its hilt within her sensitized and easily yielding ass. The famous heroine is completely deluded by his suave manner, good looks, worldly technique and perfect guile. And her body and brain now conspire against her reduced intelligence to completely mislead her into her coming disaster.

He withdraws and thrusts again, firmer now, more insistent. His hands leave her ass and travel up the full length of the slick rubber cat suit, passing over her hips, her broad lower back and her sides. Then, sliding beneath her, they enclose upon and fondle her wide cocoa breasts. He squeezes them gently, even as he thrusts against her rear end with slow steady rocking of his hips. Back and forth the cock owns her rear end with its constant driving penetrations to her inner depths.

“Aaaaahhhhhhh.....sooo nice....” Flare murmurs, feeling the sensations passing through her entire figure with gently insistent delight. So when he touches the remote and engages the chain choker, she is actually surprised. With each end sliding in opposite directions, the chain draws slowly and steadily around her throat, pulling her head down below the level of the table.

“Augh...that is a little tight,” she says.

“Yes, it’s meant to be. That is why it’s called breath play.”

She nods but it strains her throat to do that. That was dumb.

The ends of the chain slide farther apart, closing the loop tighter around her throat and cutting off most of Flare’s airway.

“Hey! Oww. Stop it! That is really hurting me!” Her voice is tight and raspy.

“Shhhh. Feel the sensations surrounding your body and enveloping it, my dear. That is the purpose of breath play,” coos Pascal in her ear as his hands squeeze her tits and his hips bump against her rear as he plows her anal furrow with steady, rapid little jolts. Her heat is amazing. And he can feel her fear growing now.

“How much...m....AUWGK!” Her eyes bulge wide now. The chain has left no air at all for her and the tiny smooth links sink deeply into the crevice they form in her skin. She can feel everything at once within and around her body. She feels the cool air passing over her naked ass cheeks as well as the numbing cold of the chilling tubes as their unremitting presence continues to neutralize her powerful body heat. The hard fondling hands at her breasts make her shimmy with surprising pleasure and this is heightened by his fingers pinching her nipples. The sensation of her ass being filled and emptied over and over, the constant friction a rising tide of delight that makes her lightheaded in conjunction with the lack of oxygen.

“NNNNGGGHHHHH!” Strangling and tingling at the same instant, Flare sees how breathplay can be an addictive game. As soon as the chain releases, she’s pretty sure she’s going to come. Her breath is raspy now as she gulps for air that can’t find its way through her now grossly constricted throat.

“NUFFF! NUFFF!” She begs, ready for her orgasm, her body alive with sparking lights behind her eyes, her soul ready to pour forth like a dam breaking when the chain finally relents.

“Just a few moments more, Flame, and you’ll be in heaven,” purrs Pascal in her ear. “I know I am already.”

“Cn’t brith. Cn’t brith!”

Why isn’t this chain releasing or at least breaking?

It was impossibly tight now and her body suddenly realizes the trick at last before her brain. It begins to buck and thrash with instinctive reflex now. The muscles bunching and releasing in helpless spasms. The arms yanking against the manacles in wild frenzied snaps of the ringing, unyielding links. The legs kicking and flailing in panicked desperation.

“Chaaaynnneee....nt....brkng!”

“Of course not, cherie. It’s forged molybdenum steel. Very light, very durable and very fire resistant. Up to 5000 degrees fahrenheit, you know. Even if you had your power to flame on, they’d resist melting long enough to ensure you were well choked to death before you could escape!”

“Nhhh! Nhhhhh!!”

“Oh but yes, mon ami. You’re just one more superheroine who is going to pay with her life for the forfeited life of my dear sister. I hate all you types. So smug. So superior. But where’s that superiority now, hero? Now that you’ve willingly allowed yourself to be ass-fucked while being choked out, huh? What’s your snappy comeback, bitch?”

“Plz....Plz...” Flare is devastated. She bucks and writhes in horror as her eyes widen beyond their natural borders from the chain twisting off all her air. This man had completely outmaneuvered her, destroyed her. And now was going to end her life, her career. Everything. And she had let him walk her down the path to her own destruction with blind stupidity! She begins to go limp as all her fight is extinguished. She hears him droning on in her ear even as he continues to pump his dick deep between her ass cheeks.

“So, what is your classic heroic tactic to this, Flare? What act can you perform that will save the day for you? Well, there is none, my foolish girl. That’s the point, you pathetic stooge! My sister had no dramatic rescue and neither do you! It’s been ground out of you by my planning, my intelligence, my research, my very hands. And now the very last thing you will feel is my cock cumming inside you, hero! How heroic do you feel now, Flare?”

“Ggggglllggkkkk!” Her head is completely pulled down to below the table now as the chain steals the last of her precious life breath from her. She feels Pascal hold her tits and lift her body slightly off the table and then, with a final double pump, he freezes in place and shoots a hot stream of semen into her quivering rear as her final seconds wind down.

This final humiliation is too much for the heroine to bear. She screams with her final last gasp with ferocious unlimited abandon at the horror and waste of this cruel death. She brings all her soul to her effort as she digs inside, past the chill, past the fear, past the shame until she finds her old self, the inner hero she knew she always was. Despite all he’d said and done to her.

And she blazes like the sun!

Her body bursts out with a stunted nova of light and heat. Horrified, Pascal feels her body melting the plastic, forging it to her body, making it a new layer of clear, plastic skin. His hands are searing, burnt and blistered before his eyes, before he can remove them from beneath her tits. Her hair smolders and alights in weak glow of fire around her head and her ass is growing very, very hot. Pascal pulls out of her screaming in pain and falls off the table onto the floor, shocked and frightened.. He watches as her body’s flame engulfs her for a brief 10 seconds and then the fire dies out and just the body lies there now. Her eyes stare ahead, blank and dead at last from the drive chain. Her neck is noosed tight by the links, her body a limp dead form on the table now. The links are not even seared or melted, true to their forged nature. And Flare, true to hers, had died a hero.

He had won but it didn’t feel that way to Pascal. His hands might heal but he wasn’t confident they would ever have the dexterity he treasured from them. Another thing taken from him by a super heroine. He ground his teeth as he headed for the medicine cabinet to tend to his hands. They would pay. They all would. Every last one of them, he silently vowed. For Marie and now for me!


NOTEBOOK ENTRY #276 - F

DICTATED SUMMARY: Subject connected the dots between SA and me and came calling as expected. First handshake regimen good. Second touch regimen even better with extended contact of 10 full seconds to deliver chemical neural inhibitor. Diminished reaction time was less than one minute due to extended contact. Mental acuity remarkably destabilized in same period. After a strong self-protective response by subject, her fear overcame distrust with simple verbal directives from experimenter. Subsequent syringe application of sleep agent and aphrodisiac readily applied. Despite this, the subject’s remarkable specialized abilities engaged in reflex defense mechanism, though in coarsely ineffective manner, before unconsciousness took hold. Neural agents and sedatives reduced “flare up” to mere seconds. Subject was moved to facilitation table after being fitted with pleasure suit with liquid nitrogen cooling tubes included to prevent “flareups.” 4.75 hours of applied physical stimulation with two customary vaginal incursions by experimenter. Subject’s stamina levels reduced to 0.095 of normal per manacle resistance readings. Asphyxiation scenario with newly tested motorized chain drive successful, complete with anal penetration. Despite severely low physical stamina levels, subject’s specialized abilities were manifested in a prime burst flareup at time of death of approximately 8 seconds with temperatures ranging from 180 to 520 degrees F, climbing logarithmically in process according to ambient readings from lab thermo recorders. Said heat burst forged chemical bonds between subject’s skin and pleasure suit forming cohesive new layer that could not be extracted. Deceased subject redressed in own uniform over rubberized skin layer, cleaned with DNA eradication regimen then left at drop point at Jefferson Memorial.

NOTES:

Neural Agents: Same effectiveness in capture protocol as previous experiments. Levels of active ingredients on both inhibitors increased to 0.55 mgs for this subject. Extended application of wet chemical adherence patch for chemical inhibitor achieved with assertive behavior by experimenter that unwary subject was either unwilling or incapable of breaking off due to social mores and/or highly efficient mental degradation of neural pathways. Said lengthy application accelerated mental and physical degradation to highly satisfactory levels in record time.

Sleep/Aphrodisiac Solution: Subject’s acceptance of “antidote” was minimally problematical. Test subject was able to exhibit specialized abilities of limited scale. Once again in this experiment, however, assertive verbal directives convinced subject to permit injection of hypo solution. Dizziness and lethargy established in 5 seconds. However, despite raised dosages and quick degradation of mental and physical reactions, subject was capable of producing a flareup significant enough to melt plastic (belt buckle), ignite fabric (polyester/cotton blend) and smolder carpet (wool). Complete unconsciousness achieved in 9 seconds. (Although it felt longer.) Increased dosage of barbiturates might be suggested to affect faster loss of all motor skills, mental acuity and reduce likelihood of subjects exhibiting specialized abilities within the capture protocol time line. However, this would adversely affect the sensual enhancement properties of the aphrodisiac. Moreover, increasing aphrodisiac levels for subjects of given height and weight could increase aggressive behavior that would be contrary to ultimate purposes of experiment. Need to redress this balance issue with laboratory test animals to establish perfect proportions of solution. Physical arousal rates within suit were 199% of baseline readings. Lower readings than other human subject due, no doubt, to inclusion of liquid nitrogen cooling system. All other high arousal indicators present and validated with aphrodisiac level of 0.88 mgs.

Conclusions: Experiment proved successful but with significant complications that could be limited to this test subject exclusively. The flareup at time of death was a dangerous and potentially life-threatening situation to be avoided in future experiments. Without conclusive tests, which are impossible due to the destruction of the costly pleasure suit, it’s deemed possible that a 10% decrease in the cooling system efficiency seems to have allowed the flareup. Video record of experiment shows a reading of 88% rather than the customary 98%. Why this occurred is unknown. No other subjects in future experiments will have need for such sophisticated heat dampening equipment but next primary subject does have certain visual abilities which are heat related. Still conducting separate sub-experiments to quantify the protocols to deal with this next subject’s unique and considerable abilities. Nonetheless, extreme adherence to all safety issues is critical. Two badly burnt hands and the fact that this summary had to be dictated into voice recognition software are all the proof needed to establish how critical safety is in the matter of dealing with subjects of such remarkable physical attributes. Nevertheless, I achieved successful conclusion to this experiment, including an orgasm at nearly the precise moment of death. Additionally, the motorized chain drive proved most effective and should do well to produce equal or better results with next test subject. I press on eagerly in my dedication to avenging you Marie and have laid additional groundwork to ensure the ultimate subject of the ultimate experiment will be led down the rat’s maze to the finish line I have devised.


Once again on a dewy early morning in the nation’s capital, Wonder Woman stands at one of its most famous national landmarks and stares forlornly at the dead body of a superheroine. Left in a compromising and blasphemous position, the figure of Flare has been set against the base of the statue of Thomas Jefferson within the majestic beauty of his memorial on the Tidal Basin.

The dead heroine’s ass is high in the air, her elbows are tied to her knees, her toes touch the base of the statue, her face is pressed flat against the cool marble floor and she’s been situated so it looks like she’s bowing away from the great man, ready to accept his sexual favors.

And once again, the costumed rear end of the pitiful figure is drenched with dripping Elimanol. She could smell its now familiar signature scent from here. The entire scene is surrounded with yellow police tape.

Turning away in with a combination of disgust and fathomless sorrow, Wonder Woman looks out across the broad marble stairway leading up to the memorial and her eyes fill with tears.

“Dammit! You bastard. You cold-hearted sadistic bastard. I will not rest until you are caged and put down like the rabid animal you are!” Her fists are balled, her brows knitted together in fierce anger and it takes an act of Amazonian will to make herself unclench and relax so she could do her job, focus on everything like a laser and catch this monster.

Turning around she looks at the assembled group under the dome of the Jefferson Memorial. Off to one side, a group of technicians search for clues, photograph the scene, check the body’s lividity and conduct themselves busily with gathering all the information they can. Fifteen feet away from the body, other more familiar faces gather, swap theories, point out similarities and share the sad moment that all police must face in their jobs: acknowledging the waste and loss of another human life. This one was remarkably special and thus all the more poignant.

After a moment, Murray Banks, DC’s executive ME separates from the group of technicians and walks over to Wonder Woman, his wide reddish face dour, his bald head shining with reflections of the roof lights as he greets her with a sad nod.

“I’m sorry Wonder Woman. I know this is hard on you...having another heroine discovered like this,” he swept his hand back toward the blasphemous tableau.

“It is hard on all of us, Dr. Banks,” She replies sternly. “When the people who sacrifice so much to help protect others are slaughtered and laid out at our treasured shrines with such monstrous presentations of indecency, it diminishes us all, don’t you think?”

“Yes, yes. Of course it does.” Banks takes a step back and turns to go with a soft promise. “I’ll get her back to the lab and start my autopsy right away to help catch this animal.”

“Please, Dr. Banks. Don’t rush away. I am sorry,” Wonder Woman says in almost a whisper. The ME turns back toward her, eyes appraising, waiting. “I apologize profusely. I do, “ she then continues in her normal speaking voice. “It is not you I am angry at. Do not think that for a second. You have helped me considerably in this case and through the years. I never say so but I’m saying it now. Your help has been invaluable to me and this city.” Diana’s eyes are moist as she glances at the body of the dead Flare so abhorrently displayed.

The ME is flat out shocked since the heroine before him had never indicated nearly this level of appreciation to him. She’d always been so businesslike and, well, officious. This case was affecting her deeply, he could see. Shuffling back, he looks up at her and nods.

“Thank you, Wonder Woman, that means a lot coming from you.”

Sighing heavily she actually puts her hand on his shoulder and smiles weakly at him, “I mean it, Murray. Now tell me everything you think is important here. Any differences, any similarities, anything unusual that can point me somewhere.”

They talk for a good fifteen minutes, discussing salient facts, impressions, theories and possible avenues to pursue. As they’re concluding their discussion, Banks promises swift action on the autopsy and all results from the lab work.

“I will put these tests at the highest priority Wonder Woman and get them to you the moment they’re concluded,” Banks says.

“And to the police, too, I assume, Dr. Banks,” says Sal Abato who’s just joined them. His tone is heavily sarcastic.

“Of course, Detective,” answers Banks curtly as Abato’s partner Jimmy Glendennan comes up to the trio and surreptitiously glances sideways at the amazing body of the Amazon princess standing four feet away from him.

“I mean, it’s our job too, you know, Doc,” Abato adds.

Wonder Woman’s fists come to rest on her hips as she turns her imposing six-foot frame toward the shorter policeman. “And just how is your investigation progressing, Detective Abato?”

Standing his ground, he slowly raises his gaze from Wonder Woman’s chest to her face and smiles cooly at her. “Swimmingly, toots.”

The look in the tall heroine’s eyes in not unlike that in Supergirl’s when she’s melting iron to slag metal. But it is not Wonder Woman who offers a reply to Abato but rather the short ME.

“Is that a fact, Detective? Because when my office requested a follow-up confirmation on the list of suppliers of the components of the sexual arousal cocktail administered to the first victim, we got no response from your office whatsoever. Nada! Zip! If my supposition is correct, we’re going to find those same chemical components in the body of that victim right over there, Detective Abato! I would hate to think that the DCPD, namely in the person of YOU, were responsible for holding back the proper and timely investigation of the nationally prominent case that this is becoming. That wouldn’t be happening here, would it, Detective Abato?”

Sal is stunned. His mouth gaping wide, his hands limp at this side. The ME had never hinted at this level of dominating official power. Never! Fumbling for words, Sal grumbles softly, pulls out his notebook and says to Banks, “It must of fallen through the cracks, Murray. I’m on it. Right now.”

“That’s Dr. Banks, Detective Abato. Just so you know where to send that confirmation report!”

Turning away and grabbing Jimmy by the arm, Abato quickly stalks off with a gruff “Come on, let’s go,” as he drags the hapless, stunned Irish detective along with him in a near trot.

Diana cannot suppress the smirking smile a second longer. Or the healthy husky chortle that accompanies it. “Oh, Murray, you have made my week!”

“And you mine, Wonder Woman.”

“From now on, Murray, please call me Diana.”

“Done, Diana. Now I really must get this sad soul home to my lab and get you those answers.”

“Thank you for everything, Murray.”

“Don’t sweat it, toots.”

Shaking her finger at him with a pointed frown, she says, “Don’t push me, Banks.”

“I wouldn’t think of it, Diana.”

The two of them share a brief smile in the shadow of the statue of the highly-honored third President of the United States. Wonder Woman reads the words carved into the marble on the walls of this sanctuary devoted to the man who wrote that we’re all entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

She thought to herself after reading that famous phrase: This was definitely a high point in the World of Men.

Then, silently, she rededicated herself to tracking down the vile man who had denied two of this country’s heroines their single most fundamental right mentioned in the Declaration of Independence: life.

End of Part One

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