Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 21

Standing in front of the Frenchman, Wonder Woman vents her anger and frustration at him. He merely stands there watching her mouth move in a violent snarl.

“You are a despicable human being, Pascal. Perverting the value of science for your own gains. Killing innocent young women. Destroying anything of value that comes into your sphere. How do you live with yourself?”

“I let my hatred of you and my need for revenge keep me warm at night, Wonder Woman. The injustice you visited upon my sister evens all scores in my book.”

“Well it doesn’t in mine, Frenchy! Now turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“As you wish.”

Pascal turns so rapidly and so unexpectedly that Wonder Woman is completely surprised. His hands, behind his back, as she commanded strike her hard, his balled fists smashing like two cannonballs into her breasts from both sides.


Wonder Woman arches backward in agony, dropping her end of the lasso and reeling away, off to the side, clutching her breasts with both hands and groaning in pain. The belt hadn’t given her nearly as much energy as she had thought and she’d used up too much of it by yanking the lasso away from Pascal and then ensnaring him and venting at him with her all too precious energy reserves. With no mind at the end of the rope to command him, Pascal easily slips the golden lasso over his head and tosses it aside onto a low storage shelf, out of the way for now.

He shudders as he looks at the coiled golden circle lying there.

“I really do hate that nasty thing.” Even being subjected to its effects for a short time, he realized he’d been wrong about it’s effectiveness. His willpower through the magic lasso definitely had Wonder Woman sucking his cock. Even for the moments it was around him, he felt that whatever she had said should be followed. It was important to do what the holder of the rope wanted. Critical. The fact that Wonder Woman hadn’t been specific about how quickly he could turn and how savagely he could thrust his hands behind him had been a terrible oversight for the Amazon. One would think so many years of using that despicable magic rope would have taught her a thing or two about being more specific in her commands. Maybe everything he’d subjected her to throughout the evening had thrown her off her game.

All his conjecture took place in mere seconds and as he looked over at Wonder Woman, he saw her leaning against a metal shelf of gallon-sized chemical containers. She was rubbing her breasts, her head bent forward and seemingly fighting nausea. She was gulping spastically, trying to fight the rising gorge it seemed.

But Rene was wary of her. She was very tricky and you couldn’t take anything for granted about her actions. He respected her for that. It was one of the only character traits she had that he did respect. In fact, she was still way too tricky for his liking. He would have to dose her heavily again with his neural inhibitors. They seemed to have worn off for the most part. Thank goodness the drugs in the enema stick were good for another six hours or more.

Guardedly, Pascal walks near her, pulling his small knife from the pocket of his suit jacket. He flips it open and it locks in place: a 5" blade.

“Let us tango, cunt. You no longer have your precious lasso and I am guessing you have used up a lot of your strength for now.”

Wonder Woman looks up at Pascal with a mix of anger and frustration. She’d had him dead to rights and she had made a grievous tactical error. Now they were back to physical confrontation and mind games. And with her system inundated with chemicals, she was at a definite disadvantage. Still, she’d fought longer odds before and prevailed. She had to be careful, somehow take him out quickly. If it weren’t for the nausea, she’d even feel like she had a decent chance. But all the physical abuse she’d sustained since she’d arrived had taken its toll. Along with the chemicals surging through her system, she was fighting lightheadedness and a queasiness from over-extending herself for so long. Her body was in revolt for everything she’d put it through. And now she was in a knife fight.

“I still have enough strength to deal with a lightweight like you, Pascal.”

“Big talk from a woman who can barely keep her teats covered up.”

They circle each other carefully, Pascal searching for thrusting opportunities, Wonder Woman trying to calculate her counterstrike options. When Pascal lunges forward with a hard jabbing thrust of his blade, Wonder Woman easily blocks it with her bracelet and swings her leg up to strike at his head. She’s too slow to connect and they continue to face off against each other. Another thrust by Pascal and another parry by Wonder Woman. But she is feeling queasy again as her energy reserves are almost all tapped out. When Pascal feints a third thrust, Wonder Woman throws a high kick at his wrist and shockingly he drops the knife completely and grabs her ankle, stepping into her and lifting her right leg up high. Off balance, the mighty Amazon takes a series of four short right jabs to her face from Pascal that snaps her head sideways, stops all thoughts, bloodies her nose, splits her lip and smashes into her eye. Dazed and defenseless, Wonder Woman sways in place, her arms hanging heavily at her sides, only held up by Pascal’s grip on her ankle and his hand on the front of her bustier. Once again it has been pulled down around her waist and Wonder Woman’s breasts are exposed.

“Are you not getting tired of losing to me, cherie?”

Her eyelids heavy, her expression dulled by pain and fatigue, the mighty Wonder Woman sags in Pascal’s hold. He smiles at her, bends down and picks up his knife from the storage room floor. Then he backs her up to a wall and pins her there.

“I think it is time to alter your costume, cherie. I don’t think you’re showing enough skin.”

Helpless, a dazed and beaten Wonder Woman, her face bruised and battered lifts one dreary eyebrow and mutters a dumbstruck “Whuhh?”

The mighty Amazon warrior slouches in the grip of the delighted French professor, her naked tit palmed firmly in his right hand as her booted ankle is held up high in his left. Balancing on one leg, her face bloodied, her lip split in two places, and her eyes blurry with fatigue, Wonder Woman is in very bad shape. She gives Pascal a trembling sneer but there’s nothing behind it to back up the contempt. She feels physically spent.

“I do not know whether to give you credit for your valor, Wonder Woman, or blame you for your incredible stupidity not to realize that you’ve been beaten.”

“...prefer...the credit...”

Pascal slowly squeezes the firm flesh of her heavy breast with a casual, possessive familiarity that fills Wonder Woman with shame. Her bloody lower lip drips onto her chin as her assailant’s fingertips dimple into her breast, creating white stress points as he works her bared chest with haughty impunity. Her left eye is half closed from the punches and her head circles heavily on her tired neck.

Pascal smiles at her in a way that conveys not a scintilla of warmth or concern. “But of course you would like me to think the best of you. Nevertheless, I think I am going to have to go with stupidity, cherie. I mean, a superheroine with her tit being fondled and her face a battered mess from her foe with no hope left in sight; what in heaven do you think will happen here that will save the day?”

“Your stupidity.”

The sudden power surge from Wonder Woman’s belt couldn’t come at a more opportune time. Her eyes brighten and her muscles fill with renewed vigor. Pascal sees it a fraction of a second too late. She twists violently in his grip, her breast yanking free of his right hand, her ankle pulling out of his left. She is free of him as her leg drops to the floor and she turns halfway to him. She jolts out her hip with a vicious thrust, knocking him back several steps.

Taking advantage of the distance, she snaps a stiff boot heel to her adversary’s chest and enjoys the sound of his harsh grunt as he falls backward onto his rear end, in wide-eyed shock and pain. A mule-like kick from an Amazon was no small thing. Even a depleted Amazon on her last reserve demanded respect and wariness and cunning responses. And Pascal would be sure to give her all that just as soon as he steadied himself. His palms spread against the floor, bolstering him as he slouches with the back of his head almost touching the floor as he tries to gather his senses and breath.

Wonder Woman watches her stunned adversary with great satisfaction as she pulls up her bustier with both hands, covering the bottom halves of her large breasts, and unrolling the frayed hem of it to cover as much of her deep cleavage as the tight material will allow.

Damn this bitch. I’ve been too easy on...

The left cross from Wonder Woman arcs down from overhead and slams into his cheek and drives Pascal flat to the floor. His eyes glaze over, his equilibrium gone with a wave of dizziness. All thoughts are nullified for the moment.


“Underestimate me at your peril, Frenchman. You will find me no hothouse rose that needs special care and concern. I am a wild rose with sharp thorns that protect me from greedy fingers like yours. They’ll be no plucking of this beauty for you, Pascal!”

“...nasty cunt....will teach you manners yet...” gasps out Pascal, glaring up at her from under furled eyebrows, his blonde hair hanging in his eyes, disheveled and sweaty.

“It’s time for us to see the police, Pascal. You have three heroines to answer for and I mean to see you serve your time in a cage for the rest of your life.” Reaching down, Wonder Woman grabs the dazed and bleary scientist by the collar and hoists him to his feet, commanding him simultaneously, “Get up!”

“I swear to you, there will be no cage for me, Princess,” hisses Pascal as he is roughly straightened up in place despite his wobbling knees and uncertain stance.

“Were it not for my own code of honor, doctor, I’d just as soon guide your private tour through Hades’ realm and leave you to him in his eager hands, forever tortured. Stand up straight, you miserable cur. I am no leaning post!”

Slumping against Wonder Woman’s side, the slack Frenchman suddenly swings his elbow up, his right forearm fiercely driving upward. The knife he’d retrieved from the floor and hidden from her view with his body jolts harshly into the unwary beauty’s left side and she grunts in surprise and pain.


The wide-eyed heroine falters in place, stunned at the sudden turn of events, glancing down in disbelief. She sees the knife yanked out and, unreasoning and dazed, watches with other-worldly disengagement as it immediately plunges into her same side again, four inches to the side of the original wound, just over the top edge of her magic girdle.


And now it is Wonder Woman wavering weakly against a stronger, steadier Pascal. Her left hand releases the grip on his collar and falls down his back to hang loosely in place. Her body hangs against his briefly, her taller height heavy against him, her chin on his shoulder. Then he pushes her away from him and takes a step back. Wonder Woman’s knees give way completely and she pitches forward to the floor, badly wounded from two severe stab wounds.

"No bracelets fast enough to protect you from that serpent’s bite, eh, sweet thing?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh...." the long moan of pain from the prostrated heroine is muffled as her face is pressed against the cold concrete. And her sweat makes the coldness all the more real. The mighty Amazon is truly helpless at Pascal's feet now. There will be no more heroic comebacks from her. She is lost in a fog of pain, confusion and trembling, spastic fear.

Pascal kneels down beside the limp, groaning female warrior and turns her over. Her arms flop like a broken marionette. Her face glows with a sheen of beaded sweat as harsh lines in her grimacing face erase all beauty for now. Her face, framed with raven black hair, is taut with agony, her eyes wild with surprise and fear.

"Yes, Wonder Woman. No one cages me. But you, you will feel the full strength of unbreakable restraints that will bend this lovely body of yours to my every desire. I will open you like a flower, my pretty prize, and yes, pluck you exactly as I wish. This was ever so ordained and will be carried forth despite what you wish for, no matter how loudly you pray to your gods, whatever you plead, your voice might just as well be silent for you will not be heard. Will not be answered. Will not be spared. This is my vow to you. My Marie demands it!"

"Ohhhhhh," It is all the moaning Wonder Woman can manage as she is dragged to her feet and swung hard against the wall, her back thumping against it first and then her head. Her beautiful blue eyes are dull with pain and bereft of intelligence for now. At her side, the blood from two nasty knife wounds steadily drips down her hip and then falls to the cement floor, spotting it with tiny novas of exploding red suns. And each and every impact of those fiery red drops further drains the famous heroine of her strength, her will, her courage.

"So, I was just about to exercise a bit of fundamentally embarrassing costume redesign before we were so rudely interrupted. Let us get to that, shall we?"

When Sal and Jimmy finally arrive in the large open space of the warehouse, they see tables with leather straps, overturned benches, debris and other signs of conflict. Realizing the place is deserted, they holster their guns and look around at all the chaos around them.

“This looks like the place where Destiny and Battle Axe went at it,” says Abato. “She sure didn’t give up without a fight, that’s for sure. But I don’t see any blood around. And you don’t cut a guy in half without it being pretty fucking messy, so the question is, was anyone else here besides those two who cleaned up after the fact? Like the registered owner of this place, Rene Pascal?”

“It’s possible I guess,” Jimmy replies. “I’ll have a look around and see if there’s anything that proves he was here when it went down.”

“Yeah, we got a circumstantial connection so far, but it is pretty strong. Of course, he could have just let Battle Axe use his place. That big guy is still our prime suspect in the killings. I don’t see some professor being able to take out three super-powered heroines. Let’s see what we find.”

“Sure thing. Meanwhile you can tell me who Wonder Woman really is.”

“Not going to happen, Jimmy,” scowls Sal. “Keep your eye on the ball and let’s solve this case, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” murmurs Glendennan who wanders over to the bondage table and scans it for remnants of fabric or hair. “We should probably have the lab guys come in here and go over this place with a fine tooth comb.”

“Absolutely, right after we see if there’s anything obvious to follow up on,” answers Sal who eyes the huge dent in the sidewall and shakes his head. What the hell went down here? And who were the parties involved?

End of Part 21