Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 23

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 23

The blackness eased away from her like a fog slowly lifting. Diana’s muscles hurt all over and her mind still felt like it was swaddled in cotton. Her left eye hurt, her lip was wet with a coppery taste coating it, and her body felt tightly constrained. She’d been beaten and beaten badly by...uhhh...what was his name again....Pascal. Rene Pascal. She’d confronted him and he’d beaten the crap out of her in every way possible. He even had abused her with her own tiara she now remembered. And had she actually abused herself with it? Everything was so jumbled up in her mind. And why couldn’t she move?

Finally opening her eyes, Wonder Woman quickly understands why she can’t move. Sluggish and dull as she is, she understands she’s been securely bound in a set of black reinforced steel bars. She’s been bent in half with her legs shackled behind her head. A long steel bar is braced across her chest and pins down the back of her knees. Both wrists have been shackled off to either side of her to a large cement block. She’s like a turtle turned upside down and held there in stasis. There will be no getting out of this bondage set up.

To make matters worse, her breasts have painful alligator clips pinching her nipples and pulling them out and away from her breasts. The clips are fixed by screws to the bar that pins her legs over her head. She’s not only not going anywhere, but the rip in her famous spandex briefs point her pussy and rectum invitingly to the sky. She is fucked. Or very soon will be. Even as thick and stunted as she now is by the drugs flowing through her, not even Wonder Woman can escape the fact that she’s in the worst trouble of her life.

She begins to cry, great heaving sobs wrenching from her. She has no pride anymore. She has nothing but fear and doubt and self-pity. It is a bitter feeling. There’s no hope in her heart whatsoever.

With a soul as cold and bleak as a winter’s day, Wonder Woman yanks and strains miserably against the iron bars that hold her on her back with her ankles crossed behind her head. The futility of her struggles is beyond obvious but she can’t help herself. With roaring cries of anguish she shakes and pulls like a trapped wildcat, expending precious energy she can’t spare. Flailing fingers, straining calf muscles, wrenching wrists and rocking head: they all yank and pull for precious freedom. It’s all for naught. Her famous strength has been siphoned away by powerful drugs and repeated lost battles at the hands of the vile Frenchman. When her storm of desperation finally blows itself out in a frustrated screech of anger, the mighty Amazon lies there panting and shivering and broken. Moments later, that screech turns to quiet anguished crying. All she has done is wasted her resources, scraped her nipples held by the sharp teeth of the alligator clips and bruised her chin by battering it against the heavy black bar pressed against her chest. Her cheeks are wet with her tears.

“There is no escaping me, cherie.”

Wonder Woman’s heart seizes in alarm. Pascal was behind her. He had seen her pitiful display of frustration and rage. He’d heard her crying. He is, right now, feeding on her despair. Her shame is absolute before this monster. But, even so, she can’t help herself.

“..why are you...doin’... this...tuh me..?...” the shattered heroine bawls, her words thick and slurred. “ I never hurt you...nevah met you...befaw.....”

“You are so wrong, you stupid, stupid cow.” Pascal closes the space between them and reaches past Wonder Woman’s head. From behind her, he grabs the tops of her breasts in his large hands. She lets out an involuntary hiss as he begins squeezing and rolling the fat spheres with calm deliberate motions. Bound like a Christmas turkey, the famous Champion of All Women can do nothing at all as he takes full advantage of her. Pascal’s steady, unvarying palms caress and pinch and heft and squeeze the weighty breasts of the helpless Amazon with patient, unending attention that infuriates the miserable beauty. The rubbing and fondling pulls and gnaws at her nipples within the pinching clips, more gently than when she’d been struggling before but this time Diana winces and frowns with the humiliation and the pain of it.

For a good six minutes, Pascal squeezes and mauls the naked tits of his captive. He looks down at her face as he does so and the helpless, mentally-compromised beauty merely looks up at him with heavy eyes, dazed and overwhelmed. She whimpers steadily, only broken by the occasional stuttered groan of absolute futility as his fingers dance along the wide bare surface of her breasts, pinching, prodding and cupping her flesh like a masseuse searching for muscle tightness. Finally, Pascal speaks.

“So you really do not remember the night we first met, Wonder Woman?”

“No! I don’t,” she squawks miserably.

“Then let me refresh your memory, hero. You had just finished roughing up a gang of teenagers in my sister Marie’s neighborhood, breaking the bones of lads barely out of high school without a thought for their civil rights, as usual...”

Anger and a surge of power from her belt brings about an extra measure of clarity to Wonder Woman and she chooses not to struggle but to get her foe talking so she can try to figure out what’s behind his murderous attacks on her and her super sisters in justice.

“They’re usually not...innocent in such cases. Usually they have knives....and chains and bats and not...nice kids out...for...ice cream sodas. When..... was this...?..”

“Eleven years, two months, 18 days.”

Wonder Woman looks up at the grimacing man looming above her with his hands mauling her tits and mumbles, “...at least you’re...not...obsessed....about it...”

“What? What was that?”

“You must be...very distressed...about it. Tell me what happened.”

“I screamed for help from the open window in the apartment we shared. I had come home just a few minutes before and knocked on her bedroom door to check on her. It was midnight and I’d just returned from a late night at the lab.”

Pascal finally removes his hands from Wonder Woman’s breasts and shifts around to her side. Her eyes follow his and widen as his hands reach between her thighs and begin to rub their inner sides, slowly caressing up and down their silky lengths. His gentle touch feels much too good. It electrifies the skin on her legs and she frowns at him, deeply distressed at the pleasure she can’t ignore. He begins recounting the story again as he slowly and methodically strokes her legs and rubs them all over with his wide smoothing palms. Her eyes begin to glaze as he talks.

“There was no answer from my sister so I pushed the bedroom door open and saw Marie fallen off to the side of the bed, choked by rope tied to her headboard. That rope was taught as a hunter’s bowstring. I screamed out in alarm for help, and then dashed to the window. Her bedroom faced the alley and I rushed to the sill and looked down. You were there, wiping your hands together after finishing off that last teenager and looked up at me. You were surrounded by a circle of groaning, miserable boys. I remember being shocked at the time but it was only for an instant. ‘My sister! She needs help!’ I was yelling at the top of my voice, I was so scared. We were only a year apart in age and so close. I was devastated at the very idea of losing her. I was beside myself with terror!”

Pascal’s hands clutch hard at the powerful thighs in his grip, the memory drawing sharp emotions that make him squeeze down with a harshness he doesn’t realize.

“Aaghhh!” Wonder Woman yelps in pain.

“Oh, did I hurt the mighty champion. So sorry. How could I be so callous?” He lightens his grip and moves the massage around to her generous buttocks, cupping his palms and squeezing the ample wads of flesh before moving on and caressing them in wide, ever-growing spirals. Diana grits her teeth and accepts his unwanted attentions with silent rage. After two minutes of silence, and despite her bitterness, the steadily squeezing and caressing hands smooth the edge off her anger until, once again, her eyes dim in their fierceness as the pleasure of his attentions.

Diana recalls the evening he was recounting. It’s a dim memory she can barely access due to the drugs flowing through her. It seemed somewhat familiar but very jumbled. She can’t fix it clearly in her mind and the warm hands continuously sliding over her rear end aren’t helping her concentration.

“And you,” Pascal continues, “you dashed down the alley and moments later you were in the bedroom with me. So fast I could not believe it! You looked at my sister and then walked out of the bedroom. I was shocked. Why were you not helping her? You began to search the apartment, for a perpetrator as you later said.. ‘My sister!’ I yelled at you. ‘Save her. She’s choking. You have to save her.’ I pulled on your arm to try to drag you back in the room so you could tend to her. You swivelled your head back in a flash and gave me such an arrogant look that fairly screamed ‘How dare you touch me,’ but without a word spoken. I was beside myself with panic and you were upset that I touched your royal person. That was the first anger I felt toward you. The very first. Even in my terror, your haughty attitude cut through the fear and I saw you for what you are. A spoiled princess who goes slumming to help us poor unfortunate humans as a way to gain glory and fame. It struck me like an arrow at the time to learn that. To see it so clearly. I will never forget it.”

“Your sister. She was...was already dead. It was obvi...uh...apparent to me.”

“You couldn’t know. Not for sure. You never checked for her pulse. You gave her a glance and just walked out of the room.”

“Had you even checked for a pulse?” Diana replies hastily.

Pascal’s bright blue eyes darken with an arctic chill in them. Diana realizes all too clearly that she has overstepped herself here.

“I....I...I’m sorry. That was unthink....AAAGGHHHHH!” Her scream fills the room as Pascal’s hands stretch her buttocks apart with a violent yank. Her anus is on fire with the pain as the muscles in her ass cheeks and butthole are strained to the limit. Her rectum gapes open, a yawning orifice of darkness rimmed in pale pink.

“OWWW! STOP! AAIEEYAAGHH!” A sharp sudden stinging slap to her pussy lips draws a shocked shriek even as the palms return to her ass cheeks and pull hard on them again.

Tears flood her eyes as Wonder Woman’s mind is overrun with agony. She is jerking and rocking in the bondage frame as Pascal’s fury breaks her body with unrelenting power.


Hard heavy slaps to her ass cheeks from the flat of Pascal’s hands suddenly fill the air. He rains them down on her exposed rear end with wild-eyed fury, spanking her hard with each powerful downward stroke of his swift-moving arm. At the same time, he is brutally pinching her pussy lips, squeezing them between his thumb and forefinger with one hand while the other delivers the punishing spanking of a lifetime to the defenseless heroine. After more than a dozen sharp, stinging whacks to her buttocks, Wonder Woman is a crying, jabbering mess.

“OWWW!.....Owwww...owwww! Please....no more....I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m sorry...stop.... stop....pleeeeeeeeeeze......” Wonder Woman’s head is bumping against the cement block as the pain of his relentless smacking hand and vise-like fingers drive her to wailing and begging that she’s never even uttered before. When Pascal stops spanking her cheeks, her head sags back against her crossed ankles and she is weeping inconsolably. Her bottom is a rosy red that shines with her punishment. Her breasts rise and fall in halting gasps. The Frenchman, too, is gasping with his efforts. He takes 15 seconds before he begins to quietly speak.

“Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I should have checked her pulse the moment I walked in the room to see my blue-faced sister hanging off the bed.” The sudden shift to calmness and objectivity in Pascal’s voice is more frightening to Wonder Woman than any other single peril she’s faced on this long day. It chills her blood and puts an immediate end to her wailing. She freezes in place, looking up at her adversary with unabashed fear. This man is capable of anything. Pascal sees this expression on his captive’s face and a glimmer of a smirk flashes across his own.

“No, you’re right, Wonder Woman. I probably should have followed procedure. I am a doctor, after all. What WAS I thinking?”

“...please....Pascal...I..i..don’t know...that just....came out....it was me...i...i..was wrong.” Diana’s lower lip trembles noticeably, widening Pascal’s smirk to a nasty smile.

“No, no, Amazon. You make a valid point. I certainly should have checked her neck, felt for her carotid artery, seen if there was any semblance of life in poor old sis. Just like this!”

Taking his right hand, Pascal places his thumb on Wonder Woman’s neck and presses against the pulsing artery there. The worried Amazon’s eyes search the eyes of her foe and see a shark’s gleam there, certainly no compassion. She gulps loudly.

“I should have felt for a pulse and seen for myself, non? To feel for the pumping of her frantic heart as yours is right now. But you say she was dead so I would not have felt a thing I suppose. But then, to be sure, maybe I would have felt on the other side of her neck for her other carotid...just here. I would have been desperate and nervous, of course. And checking on both, pressing hard against both arteries like so, in my panic, would have been wrong. Drastically, horribly wrong for a woman in her condition. Possibly not yet dead, I could have choked the final bit of life right out of her, n’est ce pas?”

The eyes of the Champion of All Women begin to bulge as the madly-grinning Frenchman’s fingertips hold down firmly on both her arteries. The steady pressure of his palm against her throat and his rigid fingers cuts off her air and blood supply in one malicious squeeze.


“So, doing this would have been a very bad mistake in my frantic state at that time, would you not agree, cherie.”

“....aaaccggkk....y....yhez....yhez....” rasps the defenseless beauty in a gargled whisper.

“So then you agree that checking for her pulse might have been a calamity. So I was prudent in how I handled myself. Unless of course, she were already dead. Then I suppose I could have squeezed as hard as I liked, maybe even this roughly....”

“AAAWWWGGGKK!!!” Wonder woman’s face goes from red to an alarming purple for lack of oxygen. Pascal calmly holds her throat in a steel grip and watches her turn color. The beautiful blue eyes shift from panic to bulging confusion and quickly lose all focus. They begin to slide up into her head. Her body shivers and shakes in spastic reaction. The longer he holds her tight, the wilder and more violently Wonder Woman’s body rocks and shakes and strains within the black steel bondage frame. And still there is no escape for Wonder Woman. Her vision goes gray at the edges and her tongue slides weakly out of her mouth hanging limply to the side. Finally, Pascal releases his hold on the throat. Red marks begin to come up against the pale white skin and the dizzy heroine’s body goes limp in place. Her tongue retracts in her mouth and only her loud, painful wheezing filling the room with whistling and hissing.

“...and my poor sister would have felt nothing. Her already being a corpse and all. But what if you were wrong, Wonder Woman. What if there had been a pulse you hadn’t checked for. A pulse you wouldn’t have cut off in panic since you were so calm and reasoned that night. Suppose, for the sake of argument that you let my sister die without lifting a hand to her throat to check. Do you think that I might have a small, insignificant little bit of anger due to me? The teeniest little measure of disappointment in you? What do you think, bitch. Do I have a case?”

With the surge from her power belt long gone now, the drugs reclaim their dominance over Wonder Woman’s brain. Her ability to process thoughts and feelings and emotions is once more badly compromised.

“...uhhhhnnnnn......” She can only moan in reply.

Pascal walks calmly around to face the up-ended beauty from the front. He kneels down to place his cool right palm on her exposed warm pussy. He lets it rest there a moment, feeling the warmth of her fill his palm. He smiles at his complete domination of the famous Champion of All Women. She is a quivering shell of herself all due to his genius and persistence. Victory was a sweet, sweet delight.

Pascal slowly slides his long middle finger into the heroine’s sweaty channel. She can only let out a pained raspy whimper as he slowly rotates his finger inside her. Her eyes leak tears of terror as her legs begin to cramp in the bondage frame now. The pain of it is growing as she feels him abuse her body at will. She doesn’t know what will happen next. Her wide, bare tits rise and fall with frantic gasping heaves for precious oxygen. Her eyes widen in fear. Her gorgeous body trembles helplessly within the unyielding bondage apparatus. Her thoughts slowly form one clear thought in her addled mind.

This man is going to kill me. Dear Hera, I am going to end up like the others.

When Sal Abato finally pulls into the parking lot of the strip mall in Alexandria, he is so angry and frustrated about the traffic he’d had to fight that his face matches the color of the oversized strawberries that make up the summer fruit pattern on his gaudy tie. He’s lucky he’s not matching the blueberries at this point.

“Hey, calm down, Sal. You’re gonna have a damn stroke,” Jimmy says as he just avoids getting whiplash from the crazed parking maneuver by his partner.

“Yeah, yeah,” grumbles Abato. “A fucking hour to get here! This better be worth it!”

He gives the car key a vicious twist to turn it off, yanks it out of the ignition and almost blasts out of the car. Jimmy runs to catch up as the pair of them head into “Cliff’s House of Rods” shop. The script lettering on the glass front window is hand painted and not very well.

Inside the barely air conditioned store, the shelves along all three walls display a wide variety of rifles, handguns, fishing rods, expensive chrome reels and even some archery equipment. A tall skinny man with a circular fringe of white hair and coke bottle eyeglasses smiles at them from behind the counter to their left.

“Can I help you gentlemen? You two look like gun enthusiasts.”

“What makes you say that,” Jimmy asks.

“Well, the drape of your sports jacket there tells me you’re packing for one thing. And the cold looks in both of your eyes screams ‘officers of the law.’

“I guess those thick glasses work after all. Glad to see it,” Sal says. He takes out his wallet and flashes his badge as confirmation. “What’s your name?”

The tall man behind the counter barely glances at the badges the two cops dangle before his eyes. He’s been through this routine plenty of times and has had more than his fair share of badges flipped out before him.

“Name’s Cliff Parsons.”

“So you’re the owner,” Sal states, unfolding the note from his pocket as he awaits the reply.

“Owner, manager, salesman, stock clerk and janitor. Which one of those hats I wear might you be interested in?”

“Whichever one can answer my questions.” He hands the paper to the gun shop owner. “What can you tell me about this note?”

Scrutinizing the paper, the owner nods his head slowly. “Oh yeah, Mr. Detherlink. I remember him. Big guy. Came in two months back. I sold him three shotguns like the paper says. I sent him that note telling him when the shipment came in, just like he asked me to. He came in just two days after I mailed the note, I recall. Paid cash. I’ve got the receipt if you care to see it?”

“I would,” Sal nods.

Turning around to the counter behind him, Parsons bends down and pulls out a thick receipt book. He circles around again and drops the heavy book on the glass counter with a loud thud and flips open the large cover. After 10 seconds of flipping through the yellow and white forms, he pokes at the page he’s found for the two detectives. There’s your man right there.”

Sal and Jimmy both lean over and study the receipt for a bit then straighten up.

“All legal and above board,” the shop owner says with a nod of affirmation.

“Uh huh,” Sal brushes the comment aside and bores in a bit. “Did Mr. Detherlink indicate why he would need three shotguns? That’s damn unusual, isn’t it?”

“Tis, indeed. He told me without me asking. Said it was for a hunting party he was planning. Shooting game birds with friends for some reunion or something out by Front Royal near the Blue Ridge Mountains out west of here.”

“Did he name any of these friends.”

“He did not and I didn’t press him. Not any of my business. Customers in this shop get their privacy and like it. It’s why they come back.”

“Did your friend Gerry explain that, in fact, he had intentions of killing the superheroine Destiny with these shotguns,” Sal leans forward and eyeballs the clerk who leans back slightly in dismay. “Did he warn you that selling them to him would put you and your shop in the crosshairs of a murder investigation?”

“He did not.” Cliff Parson’s back stiffened and he stepped back from Sal and pointed his finger at him. “I did nothing illegal here. He cleared the background check. I sold him the guns fair and square. You’ve got no call to threaten me! This isn’t even your jurisdiction.”

“True. All true, Cliffie boy. I’m just pointing out some hard facts. Facts like this investigation could take some time. It’s made all the papers. I’m sure you’ve seen it. Publicity like that for a gun shop tends to scare off all those fidgety customers who don’t like purchasing their guns when cops are taking pictures of everyone who enters your store.”

“That’s not fair,” Parsons frowns deeply.

“Let’s talk fair then, Cliffie. What can you tell me that will help my investigation. What else did Gerry say. Anything that I learn can help me close this case so the Alexandria police don’t camp on the doorstep of your charming establishment here.”

“He did ask me if I knew any one who could provide him with a knockout drug for a tranquilizer gun he had. He said he wanted to use it on that same hunting party with his friends.”

“Why in hell would you imagine he’d want a tranquilizer gun on a game shoot? Did that make any sense at all to you, meatball?”

“....my customers...privacy...” mumbles the man, his head down now.

“Yeah, repeat customers, I know. And did you give him a name, Cliff? Think real carefully now. Your business’ bottom line could be at stake here.”

“I...uh...told him I knew someone who might handle such drugs....”

“Don’t make me wait, Cliffie.”

“There’s this guy, he lives in Anacostia. We used to play poker together but he started hanging with a bad crowd over there. I don’t see him so much anymore.”

“How often don’t you see him anymore?” Jimmy chimes in.

“Once a year. He’s dating someone my younger sister knows. Annual barbecue type thing. Guy’s gone downhill. Usually shows up drunk to the thing.”

“The name, Cliff. Give me the damn name!” Sal’s temper is barely held in check apparently.

“Ziggy Rolls.”

“Got an address?”


“Got a phone number?”

“I don’t know if he uses it anymore. I haven’t tried it in years.”

“Give it to me anyway.”

Flipping to the back inside cover of the receipt book, Parsons reads off a number from a list taped there. The paper is yellowed and curled and the ink faded. “555-607-4826"

“Try that number, Jimmy,” Sal nods at his partner. 30 seconds later, Jimmy hangs up as the answering message on Ziggy’s phone concludes. The detective doesn’t leave his name.

Sal smiles and takes his own cell phone out of his pocket. In less than two minutes time and some flirting with his female contact at the phone company, Sal has the confirmed address for the owner of the cell phone number. It is indeed in Anacostia.

“Okay, Cliff. You done good. I’m going to visit your old poker buddy. Now if I find out you warned him before I get there, I’m coming back and making my unpleasantness felt in your shop here. In a big way. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes. Yes sir.”

You have a good day then, Sal. And keep your nose clean. I’ll be checking on you.”

“I sell guns. You guys are always checking on me. Law says I can run this business. I don’t see how I have to put up with....”

The detectives don’t hear the end of the store owner’s rant as they’re out the door before he’s finished talking. They get back into their vehicle and point their car toward Anacostia.

“At least this trip will only take twenty minutes or so, instead of 55 minutes,” Sal declares as he maneuvers his way past a slow-moving taxi.

Back at Cliff’s House of Rods, the owner is on a throw-away cell phone. “Yes, Mr. Pascal, two police detectives were just here as you said. A Lieutenant Abato and a Sergeant Glendennan. Yes, exactly as you requested. Right, the receipt book and that phone number you gave me. It sure seemed like they bought it. No, I made sure the evidence was convincing as you stipulated, faded inks and all that. Yes, they just left here now. Thank you, I’m glad I could help. You have the account number from before so when I can expect the second half of that three grand? No, that’s great. 30 minutes is fine. You’re very generous and very prompt. I hope we can do business again. Yes, this phone will be destroyed the minute we...hello? Mr. Pascal? Hello?”

After looking at the phone with surprise, Cliff Parsons then shrugs. He drops the phone on the floor and smashes it with his heel. He brings his heavy work shoe down on the phone several times until the case is shattered to fragments and the green circuit board is a mangled mess. Walking over to a nearby closet, he takes out a broom and dustpan and cleans up the pile of debris. Smiling with satisfaction, he opens the back door of the shop and tosses the contents of the dustpan into the dumpster. Whoever this Mr. Pascal was, he had certainly made Cliff’s day very profitable. And he’d never even sold those three shotguns. He wished he had a dozen customers like Pascal.

Wonder Woman groans suddenly as the muscle in her left calf seizes up into a sharp cramp. She flexes it as best she can and it alleviates most of the tension and the pain for now. She’s not even sure how long she’s been bound into this unforgiving, humiliating position but she is incapable of doing the mental gymnastics it would take to figure out the math. The neural inhibitors that glaze her bare breasts with their sheen of stupidity have drawn off far too much of her intelligence.

With Pascal kneeling down before her, wiggling his finger inside her fully exposed pussy, even if she had more of her wits about her, she’d be too distracted to concentrate. The circling, caressing, clit-rubbing digit is playing within her feminine treasures with the consistency of a metronome. Despite the occasional cramping and her mortification at her lewd position, Wonder Woman’s body is responding to the steady manipulations of the grinning Frenchman. Her pussy is getting wetter by the moment now at his touch. Her thick slickness coats his finger as it plays and frolics within her. Her groan becomes a moan as her buttocks wiggle in helpless delight at the steadily increasing pleasure he’s wringing from her body.

“If you think that this feels good, mon cherie, you are going to love what comes next.”

“Whaya gonna do...ta...me...?”

“What do you think, Amazon. I am going to fuck you.”


“Can’t? Are you serious, Wonder Woman? You’re so slippery down here, it will be simplicity itself to slide myself into you.”

“...whaddayou....want?...What do I have....to do...for...you...?”

“Do? Nothing at all. Lie there with your greasy holes shining up at me and simply let me fill you up with cock. Of course, you could compliment me on my technique if you like while I fuck you.”

“....please...don’t...I don’t want you to...I’m a princess...you can’t...you just can’t...I’m a princess...Amazon royalty...Amazon princesses....they don’t get..f...f.. fucked....” Wonder Woman is in tears again and whimpering pathetically as she wriggles helplessly in the bondage frame.

“This one does! And right now!” Rising up from his knees to stand before her, Pascal suddenly leans over his captive prize and grabs the ragged, acid-worn edges of Wonder Woman’s famous starred briefs in his two fists. Her eyes go wide with fear as she feels his hard knuckles press down on either side of her vagina.

“NO!” The raven-haired beauty’s frightened shriek of protest combines with the tortured sound of rending latex as the Frenchman rips Wonder Woman’s damaged panties apart with a violent yank. “Great Hera! Don’t....don’t....” is all the shocked beauty says. Then, in less than twenty frenzied seconds of Pascal’s fevered attack, the deep blue fabric, the bright white stars, the twisted thread-gnarled gathers of the leg holes, and the snapped waistband of the mighty heroine’s costume briefs lie strewn across the floor around the concrete block on which Wonder Woman is tightly secured. Worn down by the acid, the garment never stood a chance against the Frenchman’s rage and determination. The ragged bustier barely hangs onto Wonder Woman’s upper torso. Her boots, bracelets and belt remain to accentuate the fact that this is the most famous of all Amazon warriors who is trussed up in steel bondage and completely defenseless before her foe.

“Now that is how a heroine’s costume should be removed,” snarls Pascal. “Not with finesse and charm but with brutal suddenness and complete disrespect.”

“...I...can’t.....believe you....did that...you...hateful...man....”

“That is the least of the indignities you will be suffering under my hands, you pompous cunt! And here is one that I have been planning for and dreaming about for years.” Pascal’s eyes glow with fierce lust and hate as he pulls his penis out of his pants. It is a stiff fleshy rod of generous length that bobs and sways in the air before a horrified Wonder Woman. Without hesitation, he places his hot pulsing palms on the heroine’s inner thighs. “Here, champion, is but the first of a generous measure of the revenge I will visit upon you for what you did to my sister!”

Leaning forward, Pascal’s rigid cock readily hones in on the velvety curled lips of his famous prize and the tall Frenchman plunges himself into the very core of Wonder Woman’s pussy.

“HUUUGGHHNN!! The blasting grunt from Diana fills the deep silence of the room and hangs there for a moment. The shock to the mighty heroine cuts her to the deepest recesses of her heart and soul. Time resumes when the monster begins pumping away at her and Wonder Woman begins to wail and cry and whimper in a repeating cycle of frustration, horror and shame. All the while the hard prick drives into her body over and over. Above her, Pascal's drooling mouth drips silver strings down onto her clenched, terrorized face.

Her wrists strain and pull at the heavy steel bars clamping her wrists to the concrete block. Her breasts shake and wobble in wild swings of untethered momentum, only held in check by the alligator clips pinned to her sore nipples. Her famous face, sporting a large purple bruise around her left eye and a bleeding lip, tightens into an ugly grimace. The mighty champion struggles and shakes and weeps to no avail. The rock hard dick continues to piston in and out of her tight wet channel with total impunity. The dark blue suit pants covering Pascal’s rear end jerk up and down in a focused rhythm as he plunges himself into the heavenly treasure of Wonder Woman’s silky vise again and again. Forced by her shackled ankles behind her head to watch her own defilement up close without relief, the Amazon feels the sweat of their mixed exertions fly everywhere from the backs of her knees, to the undersides of her breasts to her jutting chin. She has to take it; to endure; to feel the hard heat of him battering away at the heart of her womanhood with no recourse whatsoever.

“You are just as tight and hot and wet as I fantasized you’d be, Wonder Woman. But this is even better because I did not expect those bright blue eyes of yours to be so dulled by fear and shame and despair. You are learning your place, Amazon. How do you like it? Is the stimulation all you fantasized about?”

“....monster...leave me....be.....”

“Not a chance, Princess. Let us see if I can make you climax. How demeaning would that be for you, hero? Very, I would suppose, cherie. To lose all control of your body at the hands of your enemy. Could you even live with such shame? Let us try, eh?”

“...don’t...please.....no....let me go...please... .I....I...am...begging.... I...i....won’t ever bother......you..again....promise....I promise.....promise...i...promise....” A clear bubble inflates in Wonder Woman’s left nostril then pops as she pleads for mercy in blubbering, pathetic vain.

Even as he continues to fuck away at his helpless victim, Pascal grabs a clump of hair at the top of Diana’s head and smiles. Then he stops his jerking hips for a moment and leans down close to her, his mouth blowing puffs of ripe breath into her face as he speaks. “You are being infantile here, Wonder Woman. Should I diaper you and shove a pacifier into your mouth? Are you no better than a howling helpless baby, hero? I am talking about pleasure here, not pain. Why should you resist? Why should you care? I have so clearly beaten you, there cannot be an ounce of pride left in you. Accept your fate and enjoy it while it lasts. You are but a woman. Learn to accept the divine gift of a man’s penetration like all of your gender must.”

Slowly, Pascal starts up his thrusting once more, except this time, he adds his finger into the action, pressing it to the apex of Wonder Woman’s loins and rubbing circles against her enlarged clit with the tip of his forefinger.

“Aaahhh! Ohhhhhh!” The gasping heroine cannot stop the deep sensual pleasure of his combined finger and penis stroking inside her. Her eyes clamp shut and her mouth circles in an oval of absolute joy.


She can feel the tension building within her. The wave of pleasure deep down. Unstoppable. Irrevocable.

She closes her eyes and tries desperately to shut away the sensations, to focus on the pale glimmer of hope buried in the ashes of her plight. Consequently, she is stunned and confused when she feels her anus penetrated by a tiny hard cone. Her eyes immediately spring open with shock and widen even further as Wonder Woman feels a spurt of something cool forced into her rear.

“Anal-Eze, mon cherie. To heighten my experience and to diminish your pain.”


“For a woman with centuries of experience, you are quite naive, Wonder Woman. Of course I’m going to fuck your ass! It is simply what you deserve. I will teach you the cost of your haughty ways, you lousy bitch. Leave my sister for dead, will you? The price is steep, mademoiselle. And years in the calculation. Now you will pay it.”

Withdrawing his stiff cock from her slippery pussy, Pascal pushes its tip into Wonder Woman’s tightly clenched butthole. He shoves and grinds his dick into her crevice, smearing the greasy salve all around and coating his glans with the slippery substance.

Silently praying to her protector goddess, Wonder Woman’s lips move in subtle twitches and quivers of uttered pleas. Yet again, it is all for nothing. The steely-hard man muscle drives into her ass with a rushing thump.

“AAAARGGHH!” The heat and width of his rod fills her rear and after but a moment, the Champion of All Woman is sobbing loudly. Her body shakes as she wallows in the misery of her complete failure. Penetrated to the hilt of his member in her very rear, Wonder Woman is a dazed and broken soul. “....ruined...i...am ruined....there’s nothing....left...” She wails and cries openly as Pascal gets busy ramrodding the heroine’s ass. Again and again, he plunges his cock into the greasy vise-like back channel of the world’s most famous feminist while she melts down into puddle of helpless wet-cheeked whimpering defeat. She’d never been so thoroughly bested, so completely out-maneuvered, so totally defeated as right here and now.

Rendered virtually naked by her foe, Wonder Woman is now suffering the ultimate indignity of having both lower orifices violated in succession. Her buttocks quiver with the force of Pascal bumping back and forth against her. Her flesh crawls with the sensation of his balls slapping against her skin. Posed in the most defenseless posture possible, the famous Amazon’s ass is pounded repeatedly, only to have her tormentor withdraw it from the back hole and shove it into her front. He drives into her fully. Over and over he fills both channels, first the vagina, then the ass. Back to the pussy. Back to the butt. Both holes are so well-greased there is no stopping the incessant driving rod from finding its sheath. Again and again Wonder Woman is filled as she gasps and weeps and moans. And to make matters even worse, Pascal withdraws a small lipstick-sized vibrator from his pocket and holds it against the engorged clitoris of his trembling, blubbering captive. She bucks and jerks at the sensation but where can she go? What can she do? Nothing. The building wave from within is now rushing to the surface, sliding against the ocean bed of her psyche and rushing to the shore.

“...ah....ahh....ooooohhhh......ohhhhhhhhh.....” Gasping, Wonder Woman feels herself drowning in the sensations forced upon her. The plunging rod and tiny vibrator engulf her limited senses with nothing but pleasure now. Trapped by heavy steel pipes, battered by nothing but joy and sensitivity and friction, the mighty heroine can do nothing but yield. The rod in her ass rubs the length of the tight greasy cavity, fully swollen with need, with lust, with vengeance. She is overwhelmed by it all and falls into bright white nothingness with a long gasping groan.


Pascal feels his cock bathed in a rushing torrent of warmth and this sends him over the edge as well. He squeezes down on the hefty thighs dimpled white by his fingers and lets go in his own rushing flow of pure joy. His seed pumps into Wonder Woman’s ass in jetting streams that topple her over to a secondary rushing climax quickly on the heels of her first. More groans flutter from her wavy lips. Pascal’s face is tight and drawn as his generous load continues to spurt into the Amazon’s ass. He fills her rear with cream and her ears with sighs.

The pleasure, gratification and reward are everything he had hoped they would be. And there was still so much more to come.

Draped over the gasping, moaning form trussed below him, Pascal rests in a cloud of drifting pleasure and contentment. Minutes go by before the Frenchman finally speaks.

“That, Wonder Woman, is simply the down payment of my revenge. The full amount will be paid out as this day progresses into evening.” Pascal pulls his now deflated dick out of Wonder Woman’s rear and tucks it back in his pants. Having pulled the stopper on her, he sees the white clumpy load of his ejaculation begin to drip down the indentation of the broken heroine’s coccyx and onto the concrete block. The small white puddle grows as Pascal’s cum continues to drain out of the Champion of All Women. He is extremely satisfied at the view. For now.

Wonder Woman however is treated to the irony of a sudden fresh awareness of her destruction as her belt rushes power to her body. Sadly for her, it is a body too tightly surrounded by steel and too exhausted and confused by the throes of sexual bliss to do anything at all about it but to begin sobbing anew.

End of Part 23