Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 24
“Come on, Sal, you can tell me Wonder Woman’s secret identity. I swear on my dear departed mother’s grave I won’t tell a soul,” Jimmy pleads.
Sal snorts as he turns his head a moment to look at Jimmy as he guides the car toward Anacostia. “Your mom lives in Sarasota and has buried two loser husbands, Jimmy. She’s as close to the grave as you or me. I ain’t telling you squat! I just don’t think I can trust you to keep this secret.”
“Uh huh. And what suddenly makes you Mr.-Take-This-to-My-Grave?”
“Professionalism, guts and honor.”
“That would be a first!”
“Fuck you, dickwad,” Sal declares.
“Back at you, brain cheese.”
The two smile at each other as Sal cuts off a Mercedes with particular glee. Jimmy, meanwhile, considers other methods of wringing the information from his partner.
Wonder Woman tries to gather her breath and her wits and her nerve about her. Secreted away in the laboratory of Rene Pascal’s house, she feels the coolness of the basement cement surrounding her, prickling the hairs of her body as she helplessly lies on her back with her ankles crossed behind her head. Bound by steel restraints that are unbreakable in her current condition, the mighty Amazon heroine is wracked by yet another painful cramp shooting through her left calf. Fifteen minutes earlier it had been her right calf. She sees no way out of her dilemma, she is exhausted, dazed and at the end of her rope physically and mentally. She had been ruthlessly violated in her vagina and ass and despite all her feminist teachings and high-minded ideals, she had climaxed loudly and repeatedly to her absolute horror. Distraught beyond measure, the once-brave Amazon warrior begins to cry openly at all she has lost, at the wasted and befuddled woman she has become.
“Well, well, well...the illustrious Wonder Woman is crying like a little skinned-knee school girl yet again,” Pascal observes as he walks back into the room after cleaning himself up from his strenuous and sweaty rape of the famous heroine. He stands over the whimpering beauty and declares, “I have not heard this much pathetic mewling since I overdosed that brainless coed back in Paris with my electrical neural inhibitor. She couldn’t speak a coherent word for two hours. I finally had to put her out of her misery with a length of piano wire. That sweet sound of perfect silence after all that dreadful noise was a pure delight, I must tell you, Princess. So, is that how I should handle this? Choke you to death to stop your hideous unprofessional caterwauling?”
“..n...no...no...I...i..can...control myself...” Wonder Woman stifles her whimpering and blinks and shakes her head to shake off the tears.
“See that you do, bitch. I expected far better from you. Hell, most of my practice cunts held up better than you, you overrated cow.”
“...practice...cunts...?...” A weary Wonder Woman doesn’t even censor herself as she looks up at Pascal with confusion.
“You did not expect me to take on super heroines without honing my craft, did you, cherie? I calculate that I must have worked my way through several busloads of coeds over the years of all nationalities. Of course not all of them were killed. I am not a monster, after all...”
“Are too,” the dazed and mentally-compromised Wonder Woman murmurs back like some four-year-old.
“Am not!” Pascal grins down at her before slapping her across the face with his palm.
“Well, maybe I am,” he chuckles, “as far as you are concerned. You tend to press my buttons, Princess.”
Pascal squats down beside Wonder Woman and whispers in her ear as he begins to caress her severely restrained naked body all over with his wide roaming palms.
“In any case,” the Frenchman sniffs, “most of them were tested with or without their knowledge using one or both of my electrical and chemical inhibitors as each experiment dictated.” His left hand slides down to rub between her thighs, his hand drawing slowly back and forth over her exposed labia as his right hand tenderly smooths the sweaty strand of hair off her forehead. Wonder Woman’s body is all knotted muscles and fatigue. She quivers at his touch and doesn’t know if it’s rage or repulsion.
“These experiments....they were people.... you...you...cold-blooded reptile!”
“Hmm, what?” Distracted by the lovely pleasure of being able to nibble her ear at will, Pascal’s voice is nonchalant. “Oh, I suppose. In any case, only a dozen or so did I actually take through the final stage of the experiment to be sure everything worked to schedule.”
“Choked out, mon amie,” he whispers like a lover saying sweet nothings in her ear. “Strangled to death. Then disposed of once the experiment was concluded.” He slides his tongue into her ear, she cringes away and he smiles. His fingertips caress circles in her pubic bush that has the helpless Amazon’s abdominal muscles twitching. The grimace on her face melts away to open-mouthed shock as she suddenly realizes the full extent of his crimes.
“...y...y...you....killed a....a....dozen...people..?....” Wonder Woman casts a horrified sideways glance at him. The next second her eyes blink and fill again with tears at the thought of all the innocent lives taken.
“College age women, yes. To simulate the average age of a normal superheroine. Well, maybe a dozen young coeds and three or four more mature subjects just to round out the results to be sure I could handle you as I needed. You are, after all, much more mature than the average brainless spandex-clad bimbo. But, my little Amazon squeeze toy...” he clasps her right breast in his left hand and the soft flesh yields like firm dough in his firm grip, “you really have not performed up to spec. You advertise yourself as the Champion of All Women, yet I dare say even the most insipid blondes have outperformed you in some ways. You are going to have to pick up your game, Wonder Woman. I’m almost ready to finish you off out of sheer boredom.”
“I am not here to entertain you, Pascal,” Wonder Woman blurts, her anger rising.
“Of course you are, you pathetic skank. Or to obey me. Or suck my dick. Or recite your Justice League pledge of allegiance or do whatever the fuck I tell you.”
“I will die first,” the Amazon declares, her spirit riled now.
“You will die, cunt, but not first. You will die last! Only after I have taken my full pleasure from you. Only after I have humiliated you in ways that make your nightmares seem like daydreams. Only after I have drained you of every ounce of strength, pride and vanity. And then, finally, only after I have made you pay for every day I have had to bear the loss of my sweet, sweet sister.”
“Your sister’s death doesn’t give you the right to kill a dozen innocents, you crazy prick!”
With her magic belt suddenly feeding strength to her rage, Wonder Woman’s hands wrestle within the steel bars pinning them to the concrete block on which she is mounted. Her body writhes and twists and her face sets in a fierce scowl of determination as she expends tremendous force against her steel bondage frame. Pascal sees this and is amazed she still has the will and strength to achieve this display of power with all she’s been through. His eyebrows arch and he takes a quick single step back. This draws a glimmer of satisfaction from Diana but despite her best efforts she cannot bend the steel bars that trap her on her back in this defenseless, awkward and humiliating position. Finally, she relents to the inevitable truth of the hardened steel surrounding her and stops her futile wrenching struggles. She sighs audibly and grimaces straight ahead, not even looking over at Pascal’s dancing blue eyes.
“Well, that at least was entertaining, mon amie. I was beginning to lose heart that you were nothing but a trumped up gym rat with big tits and big attitude. But no, THIS is the Wonder Woman I expected to show up. Magnifique!”
“You perverted French maniac! Face me unbound and see how brave you are, you soulless creep!”
“Been there. Fucked that. Or are you so besotted with sexual bliss that you don’t remember how many times I have bested you this day, you foolish cunt. Shall I count them off for you on my fingers? I think I would run out of them before the total was reached.”
“...didn’t play fair...” Diana murmurs.
“I simply evened the playing field, you sanctimonious cunt. You would not have been playing fair with me with all your Amazon strength and god-given tools. But why should we quibble? Just let the facts make my case, Wonder Woman. At this very moment your precious twat and royal rectum glow with the satisfying after-effects of the cock stretching I have perpetrated upon them. Certainly that must be more than enough evidence for you, my arrogant friend, that you are simply no match for me! The very scent and feeling of the slow drip of my cum out of your roughly violated ass should at least remind you that my bravery has nothing to do with it. My intelligence and your lack of it is what has put you in your place, this place, Princess of Themyscira!”
Pascal spreads his arms wide and laughs at Wonder Woman and she dies a little inside at the truth of what he’s said.
Smiling at his sulking prey, the Frenchman is, however, still pleased to see she wasn’t the complete dishrag she’d seemed to be after the first regimen of physical depletions he’d subjected her to. “But since you still have the energy to tango, I do believe it is time for the next step of my sexual depletion regimen.”
Wonder Woman stops struggling and looks over at Pascal as he walks over to a bench and pulls something out of a drawer. Her eyes go wide as he walks back toward her saying, “I am sure you are going to like this.”
When the two detectives pull up to the eight-story apartment house in Anacostia, the first thing they notice are the gang tags all over the first floor brick wall. Colorful graffiti splashes of red and black, blue and white, yellow and brown all boldly and proudly declare the names and affiliations of the neighborhood punks.
“Jeez, looks like someone puked up a case of Krylon paint on this dump,” Sal snarls.
“We’re looking for apartment 818.”
Sal looks up and counts the floors. “Top floor. Yet somehow, I don’t think this place features a penthouse. Let’s go talk to Mr. Ziggy Rolls and see what he has to say for himself.”
The OUT OF ORDER sign on the elevator turns Sal’s dour mood into one of pure seething anger.
“You have to be fuckin’ kidding me! Out of order?! I can’t believe this shit!”
“This is bullshit in a can!” Jimmy is no less disgusted at the events at hand.
“A huge Costco warehouse-sized oil drum of canned bullshit,” Sal replies as he stares what would be burn holes into the sign taped onto the stainless steel elevator doors if he had the power to do so. “We have to walk it.”
“Eight stories? Crap on a cracker. I hate this job sometimes,” Jimmy barks. Growling and stomping, the two men pull open the stairwell door and proceed to climb the stairs, landing after landing.
“So, what is it? Crap on a cracker or bullshit in a can? Can’t be both,” Sal says as they take a breather on the sixth floor landing.
“It’s bullshit on toast if you want to know the truth,” Jimmy answers. “At least that was my dad’s expression. Guess I switched it out to be original.”
“Don’t know why you’d change it. Your dad’s is better.”
“I’m my own man.”
“You’re a walking turd.”
“You’re a galloping pile of horseshit.”
“Come on,” Sal says. “Only two more floors, then we can take out our anger on Ziggy.”
“What happened to professionalism and all that?” Jimmy smirks as he holds onto the bannister and pulls himself along.
“Oh, I left that on the fourth floor landing,”
“Good thing. It was weighing you down anyway,” Jimmy grins widely.
By the time they knock on the door of apartment 818, the two detectives have got their wind back from their climb. Both wear angry scowls however and Sal ignores the bell and bangs on the door with heavy thumps. The puke green walls with their flaking paint does nothing for the cops moods as they wait for an answer from within. After a resentful 30 seconds and more pounding, Sal finally hears someone moving inside.
“What? Who is it?” The deep voice says from the other side of the door. “I was sleepin’, dammit!”
“It’s the DC police,” Sal replies. “Are you Ziggy Rolls.”
“What if I am?”
“Could you open the door before your neighbors hear all your business, sir?” Jimmy is politeness incarnate. He’s taking his usual good cop role.
“How many of you are there out there, for chrissake?” Without a peephole, there’s no way for him to know. The landlord and building contractor were too cheap to even install them.
“Just two...for now, Ziggy. But I can have plenty more if you’re choosing not to cooperate,” Sal growls.
“I ain’t not cooperating. Hold your damn water. I got seventy-dozen locks on this thing.”
When he finally opens the door, the detectives are faced with a hugely fat white man wearing neon blue spandex shorts and a bright purple mesh t-shirt that shows off a generous pair of man-boobs. It’s a fashion risk that almost has both detectives taking a step back. The man sports the palest blonde hair short of white done up in long dreadlocks. His face is cherubic. His glower is not.
Jimmy speaks first. “Would you be kind enough to allow us in, sir? Like I said, this conversation would best be conducted in the privacy of your domain.” As the Irish detective talks, both cops flip out their badges for inspection.
Ziggy barely looks. He can smell cop from 100 yards. “My domain, huh? What’s this all about?”
“Drugs, Mr. Rolls,” Sal says with cold quiet menace, putting away his badge. “Now do you want to talk about this in the hall so everyone knows what terrific sales you offer on Meth or can we take it inside?”
“Inside,” the heavy man says urgently. Moving more quickly than Jimmy would have believed possible, Ziggy looks up and down the hall and ushers the two cops in and closes the door in less than five seconds. Locking just one of the locks he says, “I don’t run sales on Meth. Weed maybe.” He turns and grins at Sal whose face is about as lively as Mt. Rushmore. “Hey, it’s a little joke. Lighten up, pal.”
Sal says nothing and just glares at Ziggy.
“You guys care to take a seat?” He motions to a beat up brown and yellow plaid couch and takes a seat on the Lazyboy recliner across from it. The big man doesn’t lean back though. He perches on the front edge of the cushion which squeaks loudly in complaint. The two detectives sit down much more quietly on the worn couch.
“Mr. Rolls, do you know the establishment Cliff’s House of Rods in Alexandria?” Jimmy studies the wide fleshy face across from him for a reaction. It’s not hard to miss. The fat man’s eyebrows go up and yet Ziggy ponders the question like it’s the final question on Jeopardy.
“Hmmm. Cliff’s House of Rods. That a gay strip joint?”
“You know fucking well it isn’t, Ziggy. And you’re starting to try my patience,” Sal says with another extra portion of stone face. “It’s a gun store owned by your barbecue friend Cliff Parsons. Sound familiar now?”
“Oh, that place, sure I remember now.”
“How about the name Gerald Detherlink, Mr Rolls,” Jimmy interjects. “Do you recognize that name?”
“Oh that guy! Sure you don’t forget a handle like that. Or a guy that size. What I lack in height he more than made up for it. I’d guess we were about the same weight though.”
“Yeah, but yours is so much more appealingly arranged,” Sal says with thick sarcasm, his eyebrow raised at the purple mesh shirt.
“Ya think so?” Ziggy pats his pulled in stomach but can’t maintain it and the heavy rolls of flesh sag over the waistband of the spandex.
“No I don’t.” Sal’s comeback is instantaneous, and then he shifts gears. “So, Zig, you care to enlighten us about what Gerry wanted in the way of drugs that Cliff said you could provide?”
“Guy wanted specialty stuff,” Ziggy says, scratching his knee. “Tranqs in serum. High end item.”
“What made Mr. Parson’s think you could handle that kind of thing?”
Ziggy looks at Jimmy who posed the question. “I mighta bragged about being able to provide anybody anything given enough time. We see each other at that barbecue thing. I s’pose I was trying to impress him to get in with his sisters friend. A hot little Latin number, petite and sassy, just how I like ‘em.”
“You’d crush her like a doughnut, Ziggy,” Sal states matter-of-factly. “Back to Detherlink. Did you supply him with the tranqs or not?”
“You guys aren’t looking to run me in on this if I tell you, are you?” Ziggy is nervously flipping a coaster in his hands as he looks back and forth between the two cops. They nod at each other at the same time and Jimmy “the good cop” answers.
“You’re out of our jurisdiction, Mr. Rolls. Besides, we’re following this lead within the scope of a murder investigation. If you play ball and tell us what we want to know, there’s no reason to book you.”
“Good. Great. Okay. The answer is no though. I really don’t handle that kind of thing no matter what I said to Cliff. I had to pass the big guy on to another...uh...associate of mine.”
“Jeezus f’ing.....” Sal bolts up out of the couch and begins to pace angrily. “We’re chasing our fucking tails here like a pair of stupid fucking dogs!”
“Don’t mind, Sal, Ziggy,” Jimmy says, “He’s just irate because he doesn’t like letting a murderer slip through our fingers. Be a nice fellow and write down the name of your associate and his phone number on a piece of paper for us now, won’t you?”
“What? No, hell no. That kind of thing isn’t good for business or my health. This guy is trouble.”
Sal spins in place and grabs Ziggy by his mesh shirt and pulls him forward, leaning into him so he’s face to face with the fat puss of the wide-eyed drug pusher.
“You know who’s trouble, Ziggy? I am. I’m big trouble. You don’t want the kind of trouble I can bring, I guarantee you that!”
Ziggy Rolls face gets all pinched and nervous at this. He swivels over to look at Jimmy hopefully. All he gets is a shrug of the shoulders from Glendennan and a “What can I do, this is how he gets sometimes” look.
“So either I get the man’s name who supplied Gerry with his tranquilizer in serum or you will get the chance to visit our jail for an up close and personal tour. I just hope you don’t slip and hurt yourself on one of the eight fucking landings I had to climb to reach you, you piece of shit!”
“Hey, you can’t do that. He can’t do that, can he?” Again, Ziggy looks at Jimmy with imploring eyes for mercy.
“Things happen. That’s all I can say, Ziggy. If I were you, I’d give him the name,” Jimmy says softly with a sincere nod.
“Okay, okay. Sure, sure thing. I’ll give it to you. But you gotta promise me you won’t tell him who you got it from.”
“No promises but I won’t bring your name up if I don’t have to,” sneers Sal.
“Fuck, that’s the best you can give me? You could be looking at a dead man here if this guy finds out it’s me.”
“A guy can die falling down a flight of stairs too, Ziggy,” Sal says coldly, letting the fat man go so he can get a pad of paper and a pencil. The drug pusher looks at Jimmy one final time for reassurance but there’s nothing there for him.
“He’s right,” Jimmy nods solemnly. “Accidents happen all the time, Mr. Rolls.”
The two detectives leave Ziggy’s place with the folded note in Sal’s hand and smiles on their faces. In the stairwell, on the sixth floor and heading down, they’re cracking up at the routine they ran on the huge drug pusher.
“You shocked the hell out of me when you bolted out of the couch like that,” Jimmy says. “And pacing around like a madman. Hell, I would’ve given you a name if he hadn’t.”
“And you,” Sal laughs loudly so it reverberates in the stairwell, “so quiet and solemn... ‘Accidents happen all the time, Mr. Rolls.’ Like we toss people down the stairs on a daily basis. Priceless!”
“So where does this moke live again?”
Sal recites it from memory. “John Quigley. 3804 Connecticut Avenue NW.”
“Back in DC. Mama, we’re comin’ home!” Jimmy pumps his fist in the air as they continue down the stairs.
“This better be the last fuckin’ stop,” Sal growls. “If Detherlink used these tranqs, we’ll need a tox screen verification from the ME on that stiff Destiny. If he bought them from Quigley, we got him pegged for the murder and maybe we can go back and see if the same tranqs were used on the previous vics. That would put a nice bow on it and close this case.”
“Let’s hope so. It’s already 4:30. But being Sunday at least we don’t have to worry about rush hour traffic,” Jimmy notes.
“Small favors,” murmurs Sal.
Back at Ziggy’s apartment, the nervous man is quaffing a beer straight out of the can, with some of the golden liquid escaping to run in rivulets down his chin onto his mesh shirt. He doesn’t mind the cold since he’s sweating bullets. He’s just hoping he did everything he was supposed to, just the way Mr. Pascal had wanted. When his cell phone rings 10 minutes later, he picks it up almost gingerly but by the time the phone call ends, he’s smiling at being three grand richer for only 22 minutes of work.
“You see what this is, Wonder Woman, is a sexual aid of remarkable ingenuity.” Pascal holds the device up to display it to the Amazon beauty. It is a round pale pink plastic disk about eight inches wide and two inches deep. Its circular face is divided in half with two facing arcs showing green and red markings on the disk’s front. Dangling from the disc are all sorts of smooth yellowish rubber tubing and straps, some with bulbous ends, one with a small three-pronged clip. Four coiled wires hang from the four sides of the disk. “I tell you, cherie, I would have designed this myself if it were not already available through a sex toys site on the Internet. Great minds think alike I suppose.”
“Do? It is a sexual device, you stupid cow. It brings you to a rip-roaring climax. I’ve seen it in action. Even you, with your remarkable physical stamina will not be able to withstand this little toy, Wonder Woman. You will be creaming your panties with pleasure before you know it. Well, you would if you were wearing any.”
“...but...why...? Why would you...give me pleasure instead of pain. It...it...doesn’t make...sense.”
Once again, with the belt’s effects having drifted off and with Wonder Woman’s mighty exertions now spent, the stalwart heroine’s mind begins to dull and her strength to dissipate to a fraction of her normal self. Her eyes glaze over slightly as Pascal speaks.
“Because you super hero types are so used to braving it out against pain. Your mental makeup seems to be stronger against pain. But pleasure...ah...well, we French know all about the seductive power of pleasure. We know how it can drive you to do things that pain would never achieve. But enough talk, let me give you a personal demonstration.”
“Oh but it is, mon cherie. I have you slotted in for this, and you will be happy to know that we are right on schedule.” Laying the disk on her stomach, Pascal proceeds to fit the device to the defenseless champion. The first thing he does is uncoil the four wires. Two of them have a small flat sensor at the end. One sensor he attaches by its tiny rubber suction cup to Wonder Woman’s forehead, the other Pascal presses firmly against the underside of her right breast.
“...don’t...care about your....dumb...schedule...” mumbles the fading champion.
“Hah! As if that matters in the least.” The two second wires feature tiny copper clips at their ends. Pascal removes the larger steel alligator clips pinching Wonder Woman’s nipples and she sighs slightly as the pain from the clips is relieved. The small copper clips take their place but they are not painful at all. If anything, they tickle slightly against the raw skin of the pointing, aggravated nipples. Wonder Woman’s body shimmies a bit as they are attached.
“You see, you are nothing but a lab rat, Wonder Woman. A feisty and beautiful lab rat, that is true but still, after all is said and done, nothing but a slightly clever rat whom I have been running through a maze for weeks on end now. And we are now getting so close to the cheese at the end. Oh, not me, of course. I am not the cheese, though you thought I was. No, instead the cheese is something so delightful that you will be absolutely thrilled when you finally arrive at your appointed destination.”
With the nipple teasers in place, Pascal then takes a rubber strap and reaches under Wonder Woman to pass it beneath her, not without some effort since she’s so tightly bound against the cement block. Finally, he gets it done and fastens the strap with a simple loop buckle so the disk doesn’t shift off her belly. The two additional rubber straps attached to the sides of the disk Pascal circles around Wonder Woman’s widely spread thighs. He buckles them in place, and now the sex toy can’t be dislodged by any bucking and twisting and shaking the device is designed to generate.
“....some....one’s...gonna...save me. Y...y...you...just...wait...Pascal...”
“I have no idea who you think that might be, Wonder Woman, but if you think it is going to be your two detective friends, I would not hold my breath. They are being dealt with, I assure you.”
“Yes, I do believe that is the dick’s name. He and Detective Glendennan will not arrive like the cavalry I am afraid.”
Without warning, Pascal sticks his finger into the apex of her labia and quickly rubs her clitoris in brisk circles. Wonder Woman’s body jerks and bucks helplessly at this invasion.
“HAAAAGHHHH!” Quickly stimulated by 20 seconds of intense manipulation, the engorged clitoris is fitted with a small three-pronged copper clip that surrounds it’s pink shape with tiny gripping ridges. “....p...p..please...don’t....”
“Oh, so sorry, you dumb skank, but you will be handled and dealt with any way I choose. And my experiment will be long over before your friends show up. If they ever do. Besides, are not you the one who should be saving herself, Princess? The powerful Amazon warrior is too weak and defenseless to even protect herself, much less the world. Where is all that haughty superiority now, hero? Curdled like spoiled milk left on a hot porch I would say. Tch, tch, tch, cherie, I think you have begun to give up on yourself.”
“...you’re...so...sick....it...it sickens...me...” the dulled beauty murmurs.
“Sorry, I do carry on when an experiment proves successful. It is the young boy in me. Some women find it charming.”
“Well, that is certainly the pot calling the kettle black. I have faced very many bright, resourceful and clever women in my experiments through the years, Wonder Woman. You are not one of them.”
Pascal then walks off to a nearby bench and returns with a small jar of petroleum jelly.
“Wait! No! Stop....stop....stop....”
Ignoring her pleas, Pascal brusquely rubs the yellowish salve all over Wonder Woman’s pussy, slicking up her labia and fingering her cunt so the greasy ointment coats several inches within her tight passage. The struggling, whining Amazon can’t help herself from carrying on like some green, fresh-off-the-farm heroine. She’s frantic and frustrated and angry at herself for letting all this happen to her. Then, as a final insult, Pascal takes a generous dollop of petroleum jelly on the tip of his forefinger and shoves it into Wonder Woman’s butthole.
He twists it right and left to coat that channel with more of the slippery salve. When he flutters his fingers back and forth deep in her butt, the Amazon warrior whimpers softly. Then he withdraws the offending digit and wipes it on her cheek.
“There. All buttered up and ready to be cooked in her own juices.” Pascal grins as he kneels closer to the panting, panicked beauty with the purple shiner, the split lip and the lost blue eyes, wide with fear and confusion. He is holding a sagging flesh colored bladder in each hand. Then he reaches out and presses a small button on the face of the disk mounted on Wonder Woman’s stomach. A soft whirring sound spins out of it and the bladders the Frenchman holds before her eyes begin to quickly inflate. In less than 15 seconds, two large rubber dildos are being waved in the frowning heroine’s face. One is fat and 8 inches long. The other is thinner and a little bit shorter.
“These, my dear, are for you. But I can see you knew that.”
With her hands pinned to her sides by steel braces and her thighs equally pinned so her legs cross behind her head, there is nothing that Wonder Woman can do but shift minutely here and there to try to make it harder for Pascal to insert the now-stiff rubber dildos into her gleaming, heavily-greased love holes. He smiles across from her, kneeling beside her struggling figure and palming her breast. The thinner dildo he’s rested on the concrete block for now, the fatter longer one he uses to tickle and grind at the opening of her snatch.
“...you...bastard....you...disgusting...perverted..bast...UUUGHHNNN!” Her words have cut his playfulness short and the dildo plunges deep within her cavity, filling it completely and coming to a stop where it’s tip rubs her cervix.
“Do not suppose that because I admire your spirit, hero, that I won’t try to break it with every resource at my command. That is part of my pleasure, you see.”
“...s..s..still...a...bas..tard...” grunts the angry woman.
Pascals throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, mon ami, you are being quite delightful.”
Suddenly the naked beauty feels the dildo begin to ripple within her. Special air baffles built within the rubber phallus direct the powerful stream of air through the rod so that it vibrates all along its generous surface.
“Feels magnificent, does it not, mon cherie? Something to write home about, yes?”
“Ah, ah, ah. I think yes.”
“Well, it has quite a powerful motor. One full horsepower in such a tiny space. It will, of course, completely devastate you. But here, you simply must enjoy the full effect of this toy.” Pascal’s eyes shine brightly as he slowly forces the second thinner dildo into Wonder Woman’s ass. Weakened as she is and as well-lubricated as possible, her anus is incapable of preventing entry. The sphincter muscles tighten as she bears down with fierce determination, but the specially-designed anal probe easily pushes past her resistance and slides high up into her rear.
“Do not fuss so, my dear. It is just a fuck pole shoved up your ass. The world is a harsh place. Even Wonder Woman has to learn to take a butt fucking now and then. It serves to even the score. Just take your medicine and like it, bitch”
“...uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....” The length and width of the anal dildo completely fills Wonder Woman’s ass, pressing against the walls of her cavity and lodged firmly in place. Her head wobbles and nods from the sensations filling her holes.
“If you think that feels nice, wait til the stimulation really starts up.”
When the air baffles in the anal dildo kick in to augment the wavering sensations in her cunt, Wonder Woman’s eyes flutter and her head sags against her ankles.
“I have to say that it seems your goddess has completely forsaken you, cherie. So sad, no?”
“Of course not. No one can. That is the point of the toy. To have your head spinning with pure ecstacy. Give in, slut. Let its wonderful sensations turn you into a shuddering, mindless cum-dripping idiot. Oh, I almost forgot to engage the nipple stimulators. In fact, let me put this on full automatic mode. It is to die for, cherie.”
He pushes one of the three buttons on the unit twice and a tiny red light glows on the unit’s face. And then the gauge needles on the top half of the face and the bottom half begin to twitch. Pascal notes that they spike into the red immediately.
“It will take a moment to get the readings from the sensors on your forehead and breast, then it will stabilize. This little wonder measures galvanic skin response and responds accordingly. It learns your pleasure levels, so to speak, and when you begin to lag and your skin is a bit lax, it sends an automatic signal to the dildos and nipple stims and that delightful little clit gripper to get your blood rushing again. Pretty neat, huh?”
“Haaaaahhhh.....oh.ho...hohhhhhh...eeeeyhh.....huunhh...” Wonder Woman is panting and moaning and writhing in pure pleasure now, her breasts rising and falling in rapid little bursts. “Huhh...huhh....huhh...huhh....huhh...huhh....huhh...huhh....huhh...huhh....huhh...”
“According to the manual, it will take about a minute before it learns the user’s response profile. First-timers may experience climax very quickly until regular practice with the unit permits more control.”
Wonder Woman’s nipples suddenly light up with mouth-dropping pleasure as a gentle fuzzy current surges through them.
“Whoa! Look at those nipples pop. The little lady likes her sensitive breast tips played with I see. I shall make a note in my log.”
“Now I know you don’t really mean that, cherie,” Pascal says, brushing more hair off of the shuddering beauty’s face.
And then the fuzzy feeling surrounds her clit and Wonder Woman screeches in pure joy.
“Oh, did the clit clip just start up?”
Pascal’s eyes shine with ferocious pleasure of his own as he watches the famous Champion of All Women writhe and buck and jerk and fling her sweat in all directions as her body is inundated with absolute pleasure from every major erotic spot on her body.
“There is no one, Wonder Woman. No one but me. I believe you are going to cum for me now, are you not?”
“...I...C..C..CAN’T....F.....F....F....FFFF.....FIGHT...IT.....FIGHT YOU.....” The anguish and ecstacy fill the Amazon’s face. Her trembling lips, her clenched eyes, her shaky voice grown raw with helplessness all signal her complete subjugation to the sex toy dominating her every thought. Both cavities are packed to the walls and throbbing with the rippling motions of the bladder dildos at work. Her nipples are on fire from the buzzing thrill dancing across their pulsing surfaces. And her firmly held clit is thickly swollen and vibrating right in tune with the nipple pulses. Her juices dribble out of her pussy like basting broth. Her scent fills the air. Her bright blue eyes go blank, both irises slowly sliding upward; all thoughts banished.
“Of course you can’t, cherie. You have not been able to truly best me since you arrived here today. Now cum for Pascal, heroine. Cum now, si vous plait.”
A spraying mist of sparkling cum droplets arc from between a stiffly frozen Wonder Woman’s thighs. She’s never done that before. But she’s too blasted by pleasure to even realize it. It scatters like raindrops on the cool white cement block and some on the floor before her. Her eyes show only white and her tongue lolls lazily out of her mouth, slack and dripping with drool. And then the release builds and a second bright silver trickle of delight drains out of Wonder Woman’s pussy. After that, quiet mewing and sighing emanates from the limp Amazon for several minutes as the sex toy shuts down based on her readings.
“Excellent. This toy is functioning perfectly. You will continue to enjoy its charms for 45 minutes. I will be back.” Pascal quickly leaves the room to prepare for what is to come.
“....huh....whuh....huhh...?...” The bleary raven-haired beauty is satiated with warmth, pleasure and cloudy confusion. She slips back into milky pleasure, lying there on her back with her mind blank and her breathing calming down for six slow lazy minutes. And then the device boots up its program and begins again.
End of Part 24