When Wonder Woman takes a quick glance down behind her, Pascal plays his ace in the hole. His hard, bony knee cap drives up into her crotch with all the force he has inside him.
“HUUUUNNGGGHHHH!” Wonder Woman’s eyes bulge in their sockets and she helplessly releases him and staggers off to the side in agony. She bends forward and clutches at her groin, both hands cupped over her crotch. “Owwww! Aaaghhhh...Ohhhhhh.
Pascal moves in, not giving his quarry any opportunity to counter him. A left cross she doesn’t see knocks her head to the side and splits her lip, blood and spit flying from her mouth in an arc through the air. Stunned, Wonder Woman pulls one hand from her crotch and extends out her right arm in a quaky defensive gesture to try to block whatever else might come in that direction. Sadly, for her, her mind is not functioning well. She should be blocking her other side instead because the right uppercut coming in for her has nothing in its way whatsoever. Her turning head sees her mistake in horror but Diana is too stunned to react in any way to the inevitable destruction that gleaming fist holds for her. The brass knuckles drive deep into the underside of the helpless Amazon’s left breast, burying within the depths of the fleshy, distorted mass of flesh and forcing it upward.
“HOONFFF!” Pascal’s follow-through sends the massive mound up into Wonder Woman’s chin, blunting against it and burying the lower half of her face in tit flesh. Gravity and time have their due and the heavy mass of her bosom descends downward and bounces and shakes in place while Wonder Woman tries to understand what just happened.
Before she can begin to assess her predicament, Pascal pounds his left fist straight into her right tit, a heat-seeking bomb that implodes in her 44D chest with breathtaking results.
Staggered to the core by his two thunderous shots to her chest, Wonder Woman is barely able to stand up, her knees touching, calves splayed out, head down and hands clutching now at her chest instead of her groin. Both tits have been knocked free of the bustier and only the woman’s slowly massaging hands hiding her nipples offer any modesty whatsoever. The hole in her panties displays her snatch to perfection. The Champion of All Women is a mess.
“Two can play at that ‘ooh, look what’s behind you’ game, you arrogant twat. Not so funny or clever from the other side is it, Wonder Woman.”
The heroine’s eyes look down at herself and sees her disgraceful condition. She pulls up on the ragged, acid-eaten top of her bustier and tucks her breasts back inside as best she can. It barely keeps them covered. There’s nothing she can do about her female parts being on display.
“I told you those teats of yours were excellent targets, cherie,” taunts Pascal. “Do they hurt as much as I suspect?”
“...you bastard...” Diana rubs her split lip with the back of her hand, wishing she had long sleeves to blot up the blood and saliva there. Her hand merely smears it away slightly. She frowns down at the bloody smear on her hand.
“Back to the insults. I have to teach you better manners, knockers. You clearly have not been properly disciplined for far too long.”
With a sudden rush forward, Pascal closes the four steps between himself and the half bent, half-aware Wonder Woman in a flash.
“NO!” Still dazed and with the power belt offering her nothing at the moment, the shocked heroine throws her arm up in panicked defense as he looms over her. His brass-knuckled fist comes down hard against her left temple and stars explode in her sight.
Diana finds herself on her knees with several seconds lost to her. Pascal is holding her hair in his hand as she lifts her heavy head from her chest and stares up with dazed confusion.
How’d I get in this position?
Her single thought is driven out of her head as he suddenly bends down toward her and jerks his arm back and forth three times. Three successive brass-assisted kidney punches in her side with all the force Pascal can summon explode within her body and mind with brain-searing suddenness.
Wonder Woman collapses to the floor, only her head held aloft by her hair, the skull tilted back as her faces wrenches into an ugly spasm of agony.
When her hair is released, Diana tries to crawl off, away from the punishment, away from the danger. Yet another hard knock to her skull from Pascal’s relentless right hand stuns the muscular heroine into inert confusion, driving her head down against the concrete floor and forcing the champion to curl up in an near fetal position to achieve whatever protection that may provide. She cowers there defenselessly with her knees tucked against her chest and both arms covering her head. She feels sick and disoriented from the pain of his brutal attack. Trembling and disoriented, she thickly awaits his onslaught. For the moment, it is a verbal one.
“Consider your defenses breeched, Wonder Woman. And speaking of breeches and compromised, your underpants there are a tattered mess, mon cherie. I can see all your womanly charms glistening pink and bright in the light.” On her side, with her legs pulled up tight against her body, the mighty heroine’s tattered briefs cling to her rounded, flexed buttocks but the ragged hole in them allows a clear view of the folds of Wonder Woman’s vagina, the dark hint of her anus and the lower area of her neatly trimmed bush. “Goodness,” continues Pascal. “I can even spot a patch of your curly black pubic hair. I do think I should take a souvenir. In fact, I will.”
The Frenchman saunters over to the groggy heroine and circles around her. She’s lying on her left side, legs drawn up to her chest, her orifices exposed to Pascal’s bright, eager eyes. He goes down to one knee in front of her, his brass knuckled right fist not four inches from her face, cocked and ready to strike.
“Don’t move, bitch!” His left hand reaches down between Wonder Woman’s legs and without warning, suddenly plucks a pubic hair out of her trimmed thatch.
She winces, her heavily lidded eyes slide up to look at Pascal only to see a fist ringed in brass staring her in the face.
“...uuhhnn....w...whattaya doi...UUUHHNN!” She had flinched again and started to kick out with her right calf when Pascal’s fist collided with her eyebrow, knocking the Amazon’s head down against the cold cement floor with a hard thump. He gives her a second shot to her temple and Wonder Woman sags in place, unable to think or react for now.
“...ohhhhhhhhhhhh....” She moans deeply, dazed and hurt and a bit sick to her stomach.
A third hair is suddenly yanked from her bush and the Champion of All Women’s eyes blink with a tear or two from the utter embarrassment of her situation.
“Agh! ...stop doing...that. You’re being so....nasty.” With her belt, Wonder Woman’s body heals quickly and Diana’s head is starting to clear up already from the painful beating.
“And you’re being such a pathetic wimp.”
“Yeah?” Wonder Woman’s ire stirs her even futher. “Well, I’ll show you who’s a wimp, you bas...UUNNHH!”
Stupidly announcing her intentions, the drugged Wonder Woman takes a quick punch to her forehead that knocks her head back and releases her arms from around her knees so that she sprawls on her back in a confused stupor. Yet again. Then, as she lies there, inert and trying to gather her senses once more, she feels Pascal’s hand wandering slowly all around her crotch, his fingers tickling through her thatch. The hand then slides down to the crease between her crotch. He fingers her vagina briefly as she groans with a wooziness that keeps her flat on her back and helpless. The roaming hand then moves, the fingers freely and slowly circling through her bush..
A fourth and final hair is plucked and Pascal rises from his one knee stance. He tucks the four hairs into the pocket of his dress shirt.
“There. That’ll do for now,” he says and then takes two steps back.
Wonder Woman groans in pain and coughs. A sudden spittle of blood-tainted saliva pops out, the reddish translucent drop dangling on her lower lip as she lies sprawled out before her enemy in a woozy daze. Her kidneys may have been damaged in her beating.
“...ohhh....this...this...just....sucks...” Wonder Woman complains from her lowly position. “I hate you...you...old....pig....” Her lower lip is quivering slightly as she looks up at her nemesis.
“Of course you do, you incompetent street trash. That’s because I had you beaten before you even snuck in my window. Thanks to my ingenuity and planning. You never had a chance!” Pascal steps back, sweeps his arm out and bows from the waist “Never!”
“We’ll see about that,” the raven-haired heroine says, stalling for time to gather her strength and wits. What’s left of them. “Many a man has underestimated me and lived to regret it,” she adds.
Wonder Woman’s strength is a fraction of its normal quota and she is bruised and embarrassed but the Amazon’s willpower is not nearly crushed yet. Pascal sees this in her eyes. He knows he must proceed with the plans to break her down.
“Very well then, I shall give you another chance to defeat me in battle. To show yourself the champion by rising up and facing me with greater skill than mine. Stand up, Wonder Woman and show me how Amazons face their fear.”
Drawing the back of her hand against her mouth and seeing the blood, Diana frowns. The pain is significant but she can endure it. She is from Themyscira. Her soul understands that her kind do not relent, do not retreat, do not stop until the enemy is vanquished. So she rolls over onto her belly, and then pushes herself up onto her hands and knees with a grimace. She suppresses the moan from the pain that sparks into her sides from her damaged kidneys on one side and the broken scab of the now leaking bullet wound on the other.
Diana, Princess of the Amazons, rises very slowly and then finally stands before Pascal, tilted slightly, and in some pain but unbowed. The Frenchman’s eyebrows arch. He had not expected his taunts to generate this. He thought she might get to her feet. He certainly didn’t expect to still see the fire in her eyes. He expected fear, trepidation and reluctance, not the icy staring challenge in those glaring blue irises and the jaw so sternly set. He is startled and impressed by the will of this woman. It will be enjoyable to break it.
Jimmy Glendennan thanks the person on the other end of the phone and hangs up with a smile. He turns to his partner Sal who’s reading through a file with his feet up on a worn steel office desk that wasn’t new in the 70s but had been built to be nearly indestructible and was proving the manufacturer’s claims to be true. This piece of furniture would survive through a Cormac McCarthy novel without a scratch.
“Okay, I’ve got a neighbor of Gerald Detherlink who saw him just two days ago in his back yard which is next to hers. She saw him practicing sword fight moves she says.”
“Yeah, so? We know he’s Battle Axe. I’m sure the nutjob had to practice sometime. His rap sheet says he was damn good with his weapons. What’s your point, Jimbo?”
“She says he was talking to some guy with a beard who was sitting in a chair watching Gerry practice. I got to thinkin’ who do we know with a beard, but I got nuthin’ yet. I was thinkin’ it might pay for us to go up and show her pictures of our best prospects.”
“And who would those be, Jimmy?”
“Everyone who had a beef with this Destiny babe. We got these five guys here...” he waves his hand, indicating an envelope containing 4" x 6" photos on his desk. “....that have all publicly threatened her recently. Let’s run their pix by her and see if we get lucky. Two of them have beards.”
“That’s pretty thin. Besides I get the feeling this guy working with Gerry wasn’t the type to be in our books. I think he’d have to be a super villain to take down both Destiny and Battle Axe.”
“Unless those two took down each other and our unknown perp just stood by and then offed Gerry after he killed the superbabe with his titanium knife.”
“That’s one way it could’a gone down,” Sal nods. “Doesn’t get us any closer though. I still think the key that unlocks this case is through the chemicals. All three of the super babes got their vags swiped baby fresh and new by that Elimanol stuff. Plus, two of them had a very specific chemical in their system that’s only found in Europe and my guess is the third vic did too. That guy Trevor was supposed to get word from Interpol about any cross matches. When he knows he said he’d call me ASAP. When he does, we may have our guy. Guess it wouldn’t hurt to pass some photos past the neighbor while we wait. Where was Axe living again?”
“Over in Bethesda.”
“Really?” Sal frowns as he pulls his feet off the desk and stands up, putting on his suit jacket from the back of the chair. “Who said crime doesn’t pay? Pretty pricey neighborhood. And I’m guessin’ titanium weapons don’t come cheap either.”
“True,” Jimmy replies, swiping up the envelope of suspect photos, jamming them in his inside suit pocket, and turning to walk to toward the elevator. “And the cost of making you look good for your own funeral after you’ve been cut in half probably costs a pretty penny.”
“Unless the funeral home gives his estate a deal. Half off!” “That’s not even funny.”
“It’s half funny,” Sal says, pushing the down button on the elevator call pad.
“I don’t agree,” answers Jimmy shaking his head. “It’s a split decision.”
Sal turns his head toward Jimmy and smiles at that. “Hey, that was good. You’re getting better.”
“By your standards. And those are pretty low.” Jimmy just looks up at the numbers over the door indicating their descent. The light changes from 12 to 11 and continues to slowly count down. The building isn’t as old as Sal’s desk but the elevator does tend to take its time. Jimmy does have a bit of a self-satisfied smirk on his Irish mug for two floors worth of transit.
Just then, Sal Abato’s cell phone rings. He looks at the screen but it’s not a number he recognizes.
“Abato. Who’s this?”
“Detective Abato, my name is Kathy Hommetz. I work for the marketing department at CyberTech Solutions. We got a request from your office regarding a chip of ours.”
“Chip? I’m sorry, why are you calling?”
“Well, we were asked to provide you with a list of all our beta testers of the CT6500 series microchip.”
“Oh, right. Do you have the list? And can you send it to my email. I can check it on my phone and see if any of your testers match up with who I’m looking for.”
“Yes, well, that’s the thing, Mr. Abato....”
“Detective Abato, Miss Hommetz.”
“Sorry, yes of course. Detective Abato. Anyway the thing is we pulled that chip off the market two years ago, just about three months after it went into beta. Too many complaints about it. They were all returned to us as requested.”
“So how did your chip end up in my police evidence locker?”
“There was only one chip not returned. I guess that client didn’t have complaints about it. Or maybe he just modified around the circuitry flaws that bothered our other clients. That happens sometimes.”
“Who was that client who never returned the chip? Do you have a name?”
“Yes, our records are quite complete in this regard. CyberTech is very meticulous in this regard. Our clients appreciate our...”
“I hate to interrupt your marketing pitch, Miss Hommetz but I’m trying to solve a murder case here. What was that name of the person who didn’t return the chip?”
“It’s not a who, Detective. It’s a company name. It is ........” Just then a hiss of static broke in and his caller’s voice dropped out to silence.
“Hello? Hello?” Abato looked at his phone’s screen and frowned. The elevator reaches the ground floor and the doors finally slide open. The two detectives step out into the old marbled lobby.
“....a company that had only purchased one of two chips of ours over the past five years,” the voice is concluding. “So if there’s nothing else, Detective.”
“Wait! Miss Hommetz. I’m sorry but I was in an elevator and missed that company’s name. Could you repeat it for me?”
“Yes, that was Pascal Research LLC, Detective.”
“Son of a bitch,” Sal murmurs to himself. The little minx was right.”
“I’m sorry. Now I’m the one who didn’t hear you, Detective.”
“Nothing, I’m sorry, I was talking to...someone else...”
“Would you like the address for that company?”
“By all means, Miss Hommetz.”
“It’s 11313 Rockville Pike, North Bethesda, Maryland.”
“Thank you so much for your help, Miss. It could be instrumental in helping me solve my case.”
“I’m glad I could help, Detective Abato. Goodbye.”
Sal terminated the call and looked at Jimmy’s alert brown eyes under expectantly raised eyebrows.
“Change of plans. We’re blowing off the neighbor and going to North Bethesda. We’ve got a real, live A#1 genuine suspect.”
“A guy named Pascal. Some French professor that that frumpy broad Prince from IADC thought might have somethin’ to with it. Seemed pretty circumstantial to me at the time but I came down hard and heavy on her for withholdin’ key evidence blah, blah, blah, at the time. Gotta make the Feds sure they know where your territory’s marked nice and clear. I basically pissed on her during that phone as I recall. Backed her off but now it looks like she might’a been right.”
“What’s a guy who teaches French got to do with killing super babes?”
“Not a guy who teaches French. A guy who is French. Anyway, that’s what we’re going to find out, partner. We’re going to visit his place of business right now.”
“Good. We could use a break,” Glendennan nods. “Last I heard, the mayor was pretty steamed about this case still hangin’ when some news bitch asked him about it when she ambushed him outside a fundraiser at the National Gallery.”
“Shit! I didn’t see that. Hope this lead does pay off. I don’t fancy walking a beat at my age.”
“So, the great Amazon warrior deigns to stand up and confront her foe,” Pascal says, carefully eyeing Wonder Woman even as she eyes him. “Despite the fact that she is a pale shadow of herself. Even though she is weak and confused and frightened, she bravely yet stupidly takes up the challenge, knowing she cannot win.”
“I know no such thing, worm. But I do know a frightened man when I see one. You thought me done and finished, Pascal. Admit it. You did not expect me to present a challenge that you are unprepared to face.”
“Unprepared? Hardly, Princess.” Pascal reaches over to a nearby drawer in a built-in storage unit and pulls out a short metal rod with a rounded knob on the end. Though only 10" or so in length, the black brushed metal rod is still an imposing little implement. He beats the knob into his left palm with a smack but Wonder Woman just gives him a sad shake of the head. After that, Pascal pulls a knife out of his pants pocket and flicks it open with a snap of his left wrist. Again, the blade is not overly long, a mere five inches with a handle of the same black brushed metal, but it too garners a head shake from the tall black-haired beauty. Pascal balances both weapons in his raised arms, waving them with studied menace.
“All your toys will not save you from my wrath, Frenchman. Your day of reckoning has arrived.”
“I am more inclined to believe it is your reckoning day, mon cherie. Shall we dance?”
“If you insist, Professor. But try to keep up,” says the Amazon with a bravado she doesn’t quite feel. Yet again, they circle each other looking for openings. And to gain his edge again, Pascal begins to verbally taunt Wonder Woman, hoping to goad her into brash action like before.
“You know what I did not expect from your three loser so-called super heroine friends? I did not expect them to enjoy having their fresh young twats cock-jammed against their wishes as much as they all seemed to. Greasy and tight, each one of them with her own special squeal of delight as she came and wept and came and came until her thighs were slick with her juices. Well, it sent me over the edge, I will admit. Each time.”
Wonder Woman scowls but does not rise to the lure. She just doggedly eyes her quarry, looking for an opening. The tall Frenchman keeps both weapons waving in menacing little spirals though as he continues to move to his right, watching out for any peculiar moves out of the Amazon.
“I’m surprised you could even maintain an erection, professor. You seem like...umm..you need Viagra or something...like that.”
“That is your big snappy comeback, Wonder Woman? This is like trading insults with a chimp. What is next, are you going to throw your feces at me? Ooooghh...ooooghh!” Pascal makes chimp sounds and makes long-armed chimp-like motions. That is when Wonder Woman lunges forward and then kicks up high with her right leg, the toe of her boot coming up and knocking the knife out of the left hand of a very surprised Pascal. The weapon spins into the air and off toward a shelving unit filled with empty petri dishes where it lands with a tinkle of shattering glass.
“Oops! Knifey go bye bye,” grins Wonder Woman and she backs up a step before Pascal’s swiping right hand can land the steel rod against the side of her head. She feels very pleased with herself for disarming the Frenchman of his knife and being fast enough to dodge his retaliatory swipe at her. She goes for broke and grabs his extended wrist with both hands as she brings it down toward her upraised knee. “Heee...yaahh,” she shouts in an effort to concentrate her focus and power.
Once again, by telegraphing her move with her shout and obvious movements, Pascal is able to counter her tactic, this time by punching his now empty left fist directly into the site of her bullet wound.
All the Amazon’s focus and power are completely disrupted by this maneuver and the screeching heroine cannot prevent the man from pulling his arm out of her grip as she bends over with a rush of nausea sweeping through her from the shocking pain. The club which he still holds in his freed right hand rises up swiftly and comes down hard on Wonder Woman’s right shoulder.
Diana’s left hand comes up to squeeze and try to relieve the pain in her shoulder. Her entire right arm hands limp and numb at her side, fuzzy tingling shaking her fingertips like spastic worms.
Pascal raises the club high again and swings it down the grimacing heroine’s fingers as they try to bring blood and feeling back into her useless appendage. She is able to catch his wrist on the downswing and give it a good twist. Pascal yelps and drops the steel club. The resonating clang of the steel hitting the cement floor pierces the air between the heavily breathing combatants. Wonder Woman quickly bends over to retrieve the steel club when Pascal grabs the sides of her head and yanks his knee up so it crashes fiercely into the stunned Amazon’s face.
“Uuuughhhnnn!” She recoils from this, her back straightening as her neck snaps up and she’s looking directly at Pascal. Her eyes roll together toward the bridge of her nose and the Mighty Champion of All Women wavers in place trying not to fall over in her dizzy bewilderment. She is half hunched over and teetering badly.
“...uuuuuhhhhnnnn....” She can’t put together her thoughts as she puts both hands on her knees to steady herself. The right hand, still numb, slips off the knee but Wonder Woman compensates and is able to maintain her balance if not her dignity. She lowers her head and shakes it slightly to try to clear it. That’s when she sees Pascal reaching down and calmly picking the steel bar off the floor in his right hand before he rises up and stands over the wobbling, befuddled Wonder Woman.
He doesn’t telegraph his intent. He simply slams the knob end of the steel rod onto the middle of Diana’s upper back driving her to both knees like an avid religious zealot eager to speak with her deity. In fact, in a mumbled prayer, she appeals aloud, “Oww! Oh...Hera...help me... be strong.”
With a deadened right arm, Wonder Woman can’t block the follow up swing that snaps sharply against the crown of her head.
“HUUUGGHHNN!” The famous raven-haired heroine’s blue eyes roll high up under her lids and she topples over like a load of bricks onto her hands and knees. But with a deadened right arm, she can’t even maintain that position and falls down onto her face, a shapely but inert figure stretched out in the sudden silence, her right arm pinned beneath her, her left arm cast outward, her long legs stretched out in a long v, her round prominent buttocks still shaking slightly from her fall, all her feminine assets showing pink in the lights through the hole in her torn and battered starred pants.
“Well, thank you for that delightful dance, Amazon. But why don’t you sit this one out. You look particularly beat!”
The beauty says nothing. She merely lies there, face down on the cement floor, drooling and limp, a conquered warrior laid asunder battle, and then she slips into a deep dark pool of nothingness. With a sigh, Pascal sees her body settle and goes off to try to find his knife.
Sal and Jimmy pull up to the small two-story warehouse in North Bethesda. On an early Sunday afternoon, there’s no activity in this area of mostly industrial buildings. They look over the address. There’s the number 11313 over the door in free-standing black iron numerals.
“This is the place,” says Sal. “Quiet. Doesn’t look like anything’s cooking.”
“You realize we don’t have jurisdiction here, right, Sal? This is Maryland we’re in here.”
“It’s a capital crime we’re working on, Jimbo. I think our Bethesda brethren will cut us some slack. If we even find anything.”
“And we don’t have a warrant.”
“Well, then, me lad, let’s go find us some probably cause, shall we.”
“You know that Irish accent still sucks, right?” Jimmy raises an eyebrow at his partner.
“I’m doin’ me very best, laddie.”
They exit the car and Sal goes to trunk, opens it and takes out a tire iron. The pair then head up to the front door. Standing at the brass sign, the two detectives read it over and look at the door. A simple knob lock on a steel door. Dumb security.
Nodding at the sign, Jimmy says, “Guy likes to keep a low profile, I’ll say that for him.”
“Mmhh, yup.” Sal scans the neighborhood but there’s no one in sight. “Oh, look at that, someone tried to force entry here.” And raising high the tire iron with both hands, Sal gives the knob a hard downward driving shot which breaks it off. Reaching into the hole, Sal pops the latch and the heavy door swings open. “We better go inside and check around. Someone could be in trouble.”
The pair walks inside the darkness and Sal feels for a light switch on the wall to his left. He finds it and flips it up. The entryway is small with a wall facing them. Sal squats down and quietly places the tire iron on the linoleum tiled floor and as he rises, takes the gun out of his shoulder holster, holding the muzzle up. Jimmy pulls his gun and the two begin to investigate the warehouse, covering each other at every corner they come to. There are many of them and it feels like a maze to the wary cops.
“This ain’t like any fuckin’ warehouse I’ve ever been in,” says Sal.
“Copy that,” answers Jimmy, his palms beginning to sweat.
Wonder Woman comes to her senses slowly and realizes she is cold and stiff. Her half naked breasts are pressed against the cold cement floor...
How many times has that happened today?
There’s the sound of dragging and scraping and cursing off to her far right. It’s Pascal.
The Amazon princess wearily gets to her feet, pulling herself up slowly by using the shelving to her left.
“...uughh...this man is a pain in my butt,” she murmurs softly to herself. “Keeps out-thinking me. What did he say about neutralizers? And some kind of ass sticks.. Hey..maybe...” Wonder Woman bends over, reaches down, pulls her ass cheek aside with one hand and pokes her forefinger of the other up into her ass to find the stick. She moves it up and down and around desperately trying to locate it.
It’s not there!
“Must have fallen out...” she says.
“It melted already,” says Pascal from six feet away. “Done its work.”
Wonder Woman looks up from finger-fucking her own ass to see Pascal looking at her with untold delight. Her cleavage within her damaged bustier is a gaping valley revealing her generous chest in a most unladylike way.
“Oh, god!” She wails and pulls out her finger and then straightens up. Her face and chest are flushed a deep red with her undying shame. She surreptitiously wipes her finger on her butt cheek behind her as stands there with wide eyes and no idea what to do next.
“But please, do not let me stop you from having your fun, champ. Would you want some butter or something?”
“Hah! Of the two people in this room, I believe most observers would point to you, Wonder Woman, at this moment as the one of vastly subnormal intelligence. Rather obvious actually.”
“Really,” says Wonder Woman pulling herself to her full height and placing her hands on her hips as her belt delivers another little surge of power back to her. She has an idea. “I’m not sure its so obvious, Pascal. Especially when you’re the one who’s so easily....tricked!”
With that, Wonder Woman’s hand, which had been on her hip, flips with a lightning quickness of the wrist. Her lasso sails out over the short distance between herself and the tall Frenchman, the always-readied loop descending over his head...
Until his hand reaches up and catches the circled rope in his palm.
“No!” Diana cries out in frustration.
Pascal’s other hand extends out with a deft quickness of his own and snatches at the slip knot, undoing it with twisting fingers until the loop is gone and Pascal has the end of his rope in both hands and is pulling on it.
The dismayed Amazon can’t believe this man had been a step ahead of her yet again. She despondently pulls back on the rope and sets her boot heels in a line for a tug of war and a battle of wills that is unlike anything she’s ever faced in her life.
“You thought to make me your weak-minded slave, princess, but it is you who will be the one to succumb here.”
Diana, no stranger to having powerful minds in her thrall, is surprised at the power of this one, the raging will at the other end of her charmed rope.
She exerts her will though. As always, she is the stronger one when it comes to tests like this. “That is not going to happen, Pascal. You know already that you cannot ...will not be able to fight the power of truth that infuses this rope.” She tugs hard, hoping to pull him off his feet but he has set himself and the heroine, though belted, is still too weak from the drugs in her system to unbalance him.
“And you know that truth is a shifting construct, cherie. One based solely in the human mind. Your truth is not my truth. Certainly not in this case.”
“You may try to confuse and...and distract me, villain, but it will not work.”
“Confuse? Not at all, Wonder Woman. I am simply sharing my truth with you as you wish it. Hear my truth, if you dare. My truth is this: the concepts you espouse such as truth and justice and the love for one’s fellow man, if you will; concepts that you so drearily profess in your endless sermons at the United Nations; well, they are nothing but effervescent shimmering phantoms in the light. The truth, my truth is simply this: What is real and provable and undeniable is science and nature and Darwin’s evolution. This is a truth that has been proven for millions of years, child.” It’s Pascal’s turn to give the rope a hard sudden yank but Wonder Woman’s heels are firmly set on the concrete below her boots. She does not relent.
“I’m no child, Pascal. You underestimate me.”
“You overestimate yourself, Wonder Woman. This surprises me because I have proven to you over and over today that I am your superior in every way. Even you cannot deny that truth, woman!”
“You may have damaged my body and twisted my thoughts with your cruel chemicals and toys and schemes, Pascal, but never during this day have you damaged my will. I have continued to pursue you through it all. Deny the truth of that, villain!”
“Your will to pursue is merely based on the tempting bait I have set before you to draw you into my web, Wonder Woman. Everything I have done over the years has been of a mind to bring you to this time and place for your reckoning. The so-called truth of your pursuit, of your will as you say, is merely the many cheeses I have placed in your rat maze on your way to me. Your compatriot heroines, dead and abused in such a horrible manner? How could you resist your need to capture me. What is so delightful to me is that your hubris at their ineffectual, tragic endings has already been proven to be equally successful against you, my dear.”
“You have not succeeded yet, you monster.”
“A matter of time, trollop.”
Both yank at the same time and neither gives ground.
“I am here to avenge their deaths as justice demands,” Wonder Woman glares at Pascal. “Your twisted debating skills hold no truth against that.”
“You are here because I led you by the nose to be here, foolish bitch. All the clues were ones that I placed to lead you to the open window, to the tainted memory stick and your first big step on the way to your ultimate failure, you contemptible cow. My science and superior intellect and my male dominance over a mere woman is what proved to be your undoing. That is the only truth you need to know.”
“...tainted....stick? You planned that? You wanted me here?”
“Is not the dawn pretty when it finally comes up. Yes, you naive cunt. Of course I wanted you here.”
“B...but why...why do you hate me so? You never said when I asked you earlier.”
“More truth. If you desire to know it, I suggest you get on your knees.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Then you clearly do not wish to pursue the truth you claim to need.”
“I don’t...you won’t...that won’t accomplish anything.” Diana’s confidence wavers for a moment.
I do wish to know the truth. I do not fear it. Or him.
“Yes it will. It will accomplish this: It will be a sign to me that you are open to the truth. It will make me feel more at ease so I may tell you about my sister.”
“Your sister? What does she have to do with...”
“ON YOUR KNEES, WONDER WOMAN!”
“Aghh!” Distracted by the newly introduced confusion of Pascal’s sister and strained to the limit by their constant match of wills, the raven-haired heroine rocks her head back in a jolt of a sudden headache. And a severe case of indecision.
“To know the truth, you should be on your knees, Diana.”
“Of course it is. You know that as Wonder Woman and as Diana Prince, do you not, my pretty toy.”
“Who? How did you know..? Oh...right...I changed....in front...of you.”
“Yes, you revealed that truth to me in the deepest trust. Now I want to reveal my deepest secret to you in trust. But I cannot do that unless you take a leap of faith and get down on your knees.”
Pascal yanks the rope suddenly and a faltering Wonder Woman is pulled forward hard. She falls to one knee despite herself.
“You are halfway there, my dear. Do you not you think it would be a good idea to settle down to both knees and hear the full truth from me? What would be the harm in that, really?”
The mighty champion tries to stand but Pascal’s words are mesmerizing in their simplicity. She wavers there on one knee thinking hard. Her head hurt.
To hear the truth of all this horrible matter, the reason behind all the deaths, I simply have to be on both knees. What would be the harm in that?
“I...i...sup...pose...it...it would be...okay...” She murmurs.
“Of course it would, my cherie. As soon as you lower yourself down to both knees, I will tell you everything you want to know about this whole nasty affair.” Pascal’s voice is a slow, smoothly cool monotone now. Wonder Woman’s questioning blue eyes look deeply into his brown irises, deeply trying to see the truth there. She sees that he will tell her the truth when she does what he wants. He really will. And she needs to know it. Her mind has but one final thought to pose.
“...are...you...sure...this is right...?”
“It is right. It is what I want. And by extension, it is what you want. Is it not?”
“...i...uh...uhhmmm...yes...it’s what...what I....want...too.”
“Then I suggest you set down that other knee and await the truth you need to hear, cherie.”
Wonder Woman lowers herself to both knees finally as Pascal walks forward, coiling the lasso in one hand as he does while firmly gripping the other. He sends his will down it’s length to the kneeling heroine before him. She looks up at him with eager eyes, desperately needing to hear his words. Her bustier sags badly and her exposed breasts hang gloriously in view, their nipples now revealed. Her starred panties are a ragged, damaged sight as well, with the famous Amazon’s snatch in plain sight.
With the lasso still held in her hands, Wonder Woman kneels before Pascal as he looks down at her open, anxious face.
“The first truth, the very first truth you should hear, my eager young beauty....” he says as he squats down before the lovely Amazon and plays with the coiled rope in his hands “...is that your will is not your own anymore.
“...no...?...” she whispers, almost in awe.
“No, cherie, it is mine.” Pascal quickly tosses the golden rope over Wonder Woman’s head. Once again, it has been formed into a loop. Pascal gives it a sharp pull and it cinches around her throat in a tightly constricting noose. He then quickly stands up and yanks her forward until she’s on all fours. A mere moment after that, his leg has been swung around behind her, and then he is behind her back and pulling up hard on the lasso so that Wonder Woman’s neck is severely choked and she dangles in gasping retching helplessness, on her knees with his hand caressing her cheek.
“And the next truth is, my dear, that you would love to have me fondle your breasts as I tell you the truth you long to hear. Is not that what you want, Wonder Woman?”
“Oh, sorry, let me loosen that for you a bit.” He does so and Diana gasps for several breaths before she answers Pascal.
“...yes...having you fondle my breasts....that is what you want...so that is what I want.”
“Excellent. Bend back a bit, mon cherie, if you would.”
Wonder Woman arches her back a bit and bends over backward to Pascal’s powerful will as he slips his right hand over her right breast and begins to slowly feel up the Champion of All Woman. She allows it without a murmur of complaint.
“Now, let me tell you the story of my sister, Marie, and how I came to hate you, Wonder Woman.” The hand caresses and squeezes and fondles the ample flesh in his palm This victory delights Pascal completely and, by extension through the golden rope, delights Diana as well. Because it’s the way things should be. His needs are just more important than hers. She realizes that now.
End of Part 19
A brief note to my readers: I'm glad to see so many readers are finding this series worth their time. The number keeps climbing so I must be doing something right. Still, I would love to get some feedback if you can spare a few moments to tell me what you particularly like or don't like about the work. I look forward to your responses. It's really the only "pay" writers receive and it is greatly appreciated I assure you. Thanks.