Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 25

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Pt. 25

It is nearly 5:00 p.m. and Steve Trevor sits at his desk in IADC headquarters on a Sunday afternoon fretting about his aide Diana Prince and worrying about Wonder Woman. Since late this morning, neither has made contact with him. On top of that, his calls to Sal Abato’s phone number have also gone unreturned.

Steve is deciding whether to call the DC precinct that Abato works out of when Etta Candy knocks on his open office door and strides in boldly. The hefty blonde fills her dark blue uniform with more than her fair share of body fat. Her fight to stay below the weight limit for IADC officers is constant. The stress makes her eat her favorite chocolate bars compulsively and the vicious cycle has not been broken in years. The woman’s heavy thighs stretch the material of her skirt to the limit of the fabric’s construction. Her instep swells around the straps of her shoes in prominent ridges.

Still, her face is beaming as she enters to ask Steve a question but collapses quickly when she sees how fidgety and nervous Steve is. He’s opening and closing his stapler and looking off into the middle distance.

“Steve? Are you okay? You look awfully stressed,” Etta declares, holding her papers to her chest and tilting her head slightly. She has a crush on Steve and doesn’t like to see him out of sorts.

“Oh, yeah, sorry Etta I’m just concerned about Diana. She hasn’t checked in all day, not since I talked to her about the death of Destiny early this morning. Seems like ages ago.”

“Does Diana usually check in that much on a Sunday? I know I wouldn’t be if I weren’t here on my rotation.”

“Yes, well, Diana’s responsibilities are a bit more dangerous than yours, but no, she doesn’t check in that often on a Sunday.”

Etta frowns at Steve’s caustic remark about her relative importance to the unit compared to Diana’s. Golly, Diana was her friend and all but that didn’t make her a gosh-darned princess, did it? Etta does her fair share of helping the unit function. Paperwork flowed smoothly through her office. And she’d even been in the field once or twice and had received a commendation for it. That was four years ago. Maybe she should put in for an outside assignment. But that might require running somebody down through an alley or something. Etta was not the best runner.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Steve. Is she on some kind of dangerous assignment?”

“Well, she’s following up leads on the heroine murders but not much has come of it. Maybe she just took the day off to collect her thoughts. I just hope she didn’t try to track down one of those leads and got into trouble. And with all that’s happened to the superheroines around DC, I’m concerned about Wonder Woman’s welfare as well. I don’t know, maybe I’m just being a worry wort.”

“Steve, come on! You’re worried about Wonder Woman? She can knock out a rhino with those fists of hers. I’m sure she’s in no trouble.

“You’re probably right, Etta.”

“I’m sure I am. And as for Diana, what really could happen there? She’s a smart girl. She knows how to land on her feet.”

Diana lies on her back, trussed up in steel and virtually naked. Only the tattered remains of her shredded bustier hang off her shoulders in twin rumpled heaps at her sides. Her worn and acid-splattered boots sport minor holes here and there. Her golden belt and bracelets have lost their luster from the dusty storeroom and the heavy fighting throughout the day. Dazed and dreamy, the satiated champion’s eyes flicker heavily from the orgasm she’d enjoyed just six minutes before.

The sex toy’s electronics have sensed her relaxation and it begins to rev up its systems. With Wonder Woman’s mighty fists pinned down to the cement block by solid black bars and her ankles clasped behind her head, the mighty Amazon is not going anywhere. Except perhaps on a trip to paradise thanks to Pascal’s insidious orgasm generator.

The deflated dildos inside Wonder Woman quickly expand to fill both cavities once again. The air baffles send ripples through the fat pussy packer and the thinner yet equally effective ass ram.

“Not again...oh no..” The desperate beauty squirms and groans in frustration and anger until the nipple and clitoris clips begin to buzz. The groans turn to moans and Wonder Woman once more begins to pant. “Not...good. I...have...to....take control....”

She makes a concentrated effort to slow her breathing and now her massive bare breasts rise and fall in a slower, steadier rhythm. “It’s j..j..just electricity. I can handle a damn little electric buzz on my sensitive p..parts,” Diana murmurs. “Like the bastard said, just takes a luh...lih...l..little practice.”

She opens her eyes and looks at the disk fastened to her belly. The needles are fluttering in the green zone, steadily hanging in there. She concentrates on that. Making her existence nothing but keeping the needles in the green. The device responds by filling the dildos even more and increasing the flutter rate of the baffles against the walls of her pussy and ass. She’s never felt so filled before. Every square inch of her is pressed by the warm latex. The rhythms of the greased fluttering rods buried within her holes is so enticing, so wonderful.

“Uummmmhhh!” The needle for the pussy gauge swings high up into the red range. “Uhh..huuuuhhn....” It is followed into the red by the ass gauge. “Ohh....godddd..!..OHH!”

“Come on....come on...back to green...back to green...” Wonder Woman focuses on the needles again, even as sweat beads pop on her forehead. The needles do settle down though and twitch and shake within the green zone once more. “Good....good....okay...okay...that’s better.”

When the nipple clips begin buzzing more insistently, Wonder Woman lets out a quiet little squeak from the back of her throat. Her breasts feel fuller, her nipples ready to explode.

“Green,” she prays softly. There is no gauge for nipple stimulators or the clit clip, so the Amazon princess imagines a pair of them in her head. She concentrates fiercely on bringing the mental nipple gauge into the green and, with a sudden surge from her power belt, she does it. She calms her heart and lets herself feel a twinge of confidence. She’s controlling her reactions now and can....

The clit clip suddenly fires up with a vengeance. It’s surrounding her sensitive nub with upward strokes from the base of the clit to its tip. “BY OLYMPUS’ MIGHTY MOUNT! WHAT THE HELL!!! OH MY DEAR SWEET GODS.....NOOOOO!” The endless zipping electric strokes up and down, up and down the length of her clit blow all of Wonder Woman’s circuits in less than 8 seconds. Both dildos ripple like snakes swallowing mice within her. Her nipples feel like those same snakes are fluttering their forked tongues all over their surface. Her jerking, bucking body is out of her control.

“Oh..no..no..c...can’t maintain. Uuuuuhhhhnnnnn! I .c..can’t..muh...m.. MAINTAIN!” Her eyes see double and all the gauges in her vision and in her mind blast right into the upper most edge of the red zone. She whines like a puppy that’s had its tail stepped on and her face is scrunched tightly in utter agony it would seem. But it’s not agony. It’s the ultimate pleasure surging through her body, possessing her mind, breaking her spirit, making her cum. Her body freezes in place. The oncoming wave drowns the maiden’s tortured mind.


Yet again, due to her efforts to suppress it no doubt, the orgasm, unable to be contained, sprays her cum in a glittering rainbow from between her legs. The arc fails and then regains as surge after surge of pleasure creates pulses of joy in the air. The bladders pulse against her cavity walls and ripple steadily, creating small tsunamis of ecstacy that sweep all thoughts out of Wonder Woman’s mind. Her body begins to bump and shiver within the restraints for a minute or more before she goes completely limp and a long low moan falls out of her soul like a wind through a cracked window. And with that, and with the dildos deflating quickly within her, the final remaining measure of cum drips out of her hot, liquid pussy, slides down her body and pools beneath her hips. The device has given her two orgasms already. She still has 30 minutes before Pascal returns but the spent, drooling, heavy-lidded Amazon is too blasted to know it.

Sal sits across the street from the magnificent Georgian mansion on Connecticut Ave in Northwest Washington, D.C. and looks at it with considerable trepidation. This is a very nice neighborhood and it seems highly unlikely that the man who lives in this house would remotely have anything to do with Ziggy Rolls. He sighs and looks at Jimmy who he knows is thinking along the same lines. The last thing that Sal wants to do is to return to Anacostia, walk up eight fucking flights of stairs again and beat the living crap out of Ziggy to prove the point that you don’t screw over Sal Abato or a DC cop and get away with it. But he might just have to do that. Maybe tomorrow he might have to do it. He looks at his watch and sees he’s already past the end of his shift. But since when did a shift end mean much to a homicide dick with no wife and no real hobbies?

“What do you think?”

“What the fuck do I know?” Jimmy shrugs. “The place sure looks nice and pricey and everything but this Quigley wouldn’t be the first drug seller to buy into respectability, or at least to make a show of it. Maybe he moved up and is wholesaling to local pushers. Sure isn’t going to have stoners and horse heads coming to his door here to snag a bag of weed or a hit of H though.”

“If one did,” Sal responds, “he’d have his head blown off by a 12-gauge or get his throat ripped out by some Doberman named Fritz in less time than it would take to shout “Heel boy!”

“Only way to know for sure is to knock. If he’s even home,” Jimmy says. “He’ll deny knowing Ziggy though and where does that leave us?”

“Get your head out of your ass, Jimmy. We’re not here to connect him to Ziggy. We don’t even mention Ziggy if we can avoid it. We’re here to connect him with Gerry or as BattleAxe in some way. We do that, this case is as good as closed.”

“Right, of course, I wasn’t thinking. Still, you know he won’t be the type to fall for our vaudeville act.”

Sal ponders the dilemma. “No, that’s for sure. He won’t shake easy like Ziggy or Parsons.”

“Nope. We need some kind of leverage,” Jimmy nods, thinking.

“We could play it all sincere and heavy about the murders. A final tidying up thing. No biggie,” Sal suggests.

“I still doubt he’d cop to knowing Gerry.”

“Hmmm. What about this: we go in telling him we’re lawyers and he’s got a bequest from a deceased Mr. Detherlink,” Sal builds the idea as he speaks. “He has to sign something that affirms he knows him.”

“Then what?”

“Then we ask him about the tranqs and see where we go from there, but at least we got affirmation he knows Gerry. If he’s got a rap sheet, we can squeeze him good tomorrow. Put some real pressure on with real leverage.”

Well, it’s a plan,” Jimmy says with a frown. “But we don’t have anything for him to sign.”

“If he says he knows him, we can delay that and say the whole legal thing can be done tomorrow in our offices or some such shit,” Sal offers breezily. “We’re just trying to get our foot in the door here.”

“Okay then, you ready to be a lawyer?” Jimmy opens the car door.

“I don’t know if I can get that sleazy that fast.”

“I have full confidence.”

“Dickhead,” Sal says, getting out of the sedan.

“Lawyer,” Jimmy smiles.

“Ouch. Now you’re getting personal.”

The maid that comes to the door of the grand home is a pretty young black girl in a full black and white maid’s uniform that’s filled out nicely by a set of remarkable knockers. The outfit offers the traditional frilled white apron, short black skirt with matching white frills, a white crowning hair piece. The young beauty is provocatively holding an actual feather duster in her small tight fist. The black pumps she’s wearing make her long slim legs look amazing. The porn video is already running in Sal’s head and he tries hard to keep a poker face. Nevertheless, the maid catches his appraising look and frowns.


“We’re here to see a Mr. John Quigley,” Jimmy says, drawing her attention. He’s been less obvious in his appraisal than Sal “Is this his residence?”


“Is Mr. Quigley here at present?”


“May we see him?”

“Who shall I say is calling?”

“We’re lawyers,” Sal speaks up. “For the estate of Gerald Detherlink.”

“So?” The maid’s irritation at Sal’s demeanor is more than evident.

“So, there’s a bequest to Mr. Quigley that the estate would like to settle,” Sal reveals, hopefully.

“Say what now?”

“There’s money Mr Quigley has coming from the ex-Mr. Detherlink,” Jimmy explains.

“Well why didn’t he say so,” the maid looks at Jimmy and cocks her head brusquely at Sal.

“I will be clearer in the future,” Sal offers.

“You don’t have to be no clearer about what you want. I know what you want.” The maid looks him up and down with a disparaging shake of her head.

“Would you be so kind to ask Mr Quigley to spare us a moment of his time?” Jimmy interjects politely.

Still looking at Sal, the maid declares, “This uniform ain’t no green light for you, Mr. Big Eyes.” She turns to Jimmy with a much sweeter smile. “What all’s your names?”

They give them to her and she stares at the two of them for a moment, considering their fate.

“Wait here, please,” she says, getting back to her official tone, and shuts the door in their face.

“This is going well so far,” Jimmy says, giving Sal a sideways glance and a smirk.

“I can’t help it! Did you see those legs!”

“Prime cut.”

“What I wouldn’t give....”

“We’re lawyers. Some decorum is required, Sal.”

“I’ll be fine with him,” Abato states, “as long as she doesn’t hang around.”

When the door opens again, the maid has been replaced by a middle-age man with short-cropped black hair going gray at the temples. He’s wearing a long-sleeved red-striped Ralph Lauren polo shirt with white slacks and looks like he just stepped out of a clothing catalog.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Freezia tells me you have business to conduct with me.” He sounds smooth enough to be conducting an estate auction at Buckingham palace, complete with the genteel British accent.

“Yes sir,” Jimmy extends his hand to shake and the man does so with a firm grip. “How do you do. I am James Glendennan, this is my associate Salvatore Abato. Are you John Quigley?”

“Indeed I am.”

“Mr. Quigley,” James continues, “we represent the estate of a Mr. Gerald Detherlink. Are you familiar with that name, sir?”

“Detherlink? That does seem to ring a bell. Hmm. Gerry Detherlink....”

“A rather large man,” Sal offers up.

“Oh, you mean BattleAxe!”

The two detectives stand there stunned at this statement.

“Yes, I do know him. Freezia tells me that he left me some money or some such thing?”

“Uhh...uhhhmm...” Sal is speechless. Jimmy is no better.

Seeing their stunned expressions, Quigley breaks into a grand smile that would sell a million tubes of toothpaste. “Come in, gentlemen.” His long arm claps Sal on the back as he ushers them into his home. “Let’s talk in the parlor.”

Ten minutes after her last orgasm, Wonder Woman’s heart rate has finally returned to normal and her dreamy eyes open slowly as she comes out of a deep, dozing cat nap. She’s looking up at a black air conditioning outlet in the ceiling. She has no thoughts about that. In fact she has remarkably few thoughts at all.

“..ohh...feel sticky...” she murmurs. “...what time izzit...”

It’s time, according to the automated program in the sex toy reading her skin response measurements, for another round of stimulation. When the dildos buried within her pussy and ass begin inflating once more, when the sensation of the firm latex starting to crowd her cavities breaks through to her consciousness, the inevitability of what is about to happen to her yet again starts Wonder Woman weeping.

“...why’s he doin’..this....why....why....?...” She takes a deep breath but can’t stop the tears from spilling out of her eyes. “I...didn’t kill....his...sister...not my....fault. It isn’t.”

The two dildos quickly swell up to their full size and a bit beyond. Wonder Woman closes her eyes, calms herself and imagines the gauges again, seeing the needles quiver low in the green area. She can handle this feeling. She’s simply filled up with a couple of rubber dongs. Overfilled in fact. She’s even on the verge of being uncomfortable or at least she tries to convince herself it’s so. No, there’s nothing sexy about being uncomfortably bloated by invasive dildos. She makes an effort to feel the dried cum on the pussy packer and to sense an unpleasant scratchiness against her walls down there. Anything that helps her fight off the hard-to-resist sensation of being so completely filled can’t hurt, she thinks. But despite what’s she’s trying to convince herself of, the feeling of every square inch of her cavities being stuffed to their limits by warm, bulging rubber rods is delightfully erotic.

“...no..no..I....c..can’t think like that....must pretend it’s... like having his... nasty...evil... diseased prick.... filling me...why would...i.. w...want...something so horrible... inside me...?...must keep it negative...sensations are degrading...is this thing scratching me to ribbons inside...? There’s n..nothing pleasurable...ab..b..bout..that... ” Wonder Woman is beginning to regain her control with such negative thoughts about what might be happening inside her.

But then it all goes bad! When the sudden irresistible fluttering of the two dildo’s inner baffles kick in, Wonder Woman realizes she’s made a huge mistake by concentrating so intensely on what she’s feeling within her pussy. And now, the intense rippling sensations all up and down the full length of her vaginal walls and thickly-dammed ass draws a hard grunt and a violent reflexive shake from her whole body.

“WHUUUHH!!....uuuhhnnn....wrong....dammit...wrong...! Huunnhhh!....That...wuz... s...s..so..so..wrong. Oooooh!..... shouldn’t have...focused...so deliberately on....on...the sensations inside my pussy....why did I do...that...!... Ohhhhhhhhhh... my...that...that...bubbly rubbing...it... feels.....incredible..!..” She can’t see it but the needle in the top gauge on sex toy bounces way over to the red zone and stays there for an endless 15 seconds. The rippling surface of the pussy packer rubs all up and down the inner length of her heavenly channel, the vibration making her body shiver and quake helplessly. When the dildo in her ass begins to quiver and bump at an even higher speed, Wonder Woman’s mouth drops open and her eyes flutter madly. Her body is drenched in sweat as she fights the high tide she knows is coming for her.

And then the ripples inside the dildos suddenly stop and they both begin to deflate. The Amazon’s panting and shivering slows for a few precious seconds. It’s enough to let her catch her breath and regain a bit of control.

“...ohhhhh......maybe....i...i..b..b...broke it...”

The moaning beauty has but a brief interlude of peace however. The ripples are replaced by a the sensation of both dildos suddenly inflating back to their generous proportions. And then they go beyond that to become as thick and bulging as anything Wonder Woman has ever felt inside her. The size of them is overwhelming her.

“...ohhhhh...too much....too fat....c..can’t believe this.....is happening...”

And then the ripples within the rubber rods start up again. But now, since the dildos have expanded to the maximum girth, the rippling sensations against the walls of her orifices is even more intense than ever before. And with the pace of these ripple cycles being faster than ever as well, Wonder Woman’s head is deluged within a maelstrom of pure ecstacy. The effect drives her to panting helplessness. A storm’s worth of waves smashes against her psyche. The troughs and peaks of incessant pleasure wash through her and shake her body from head to toe. When the nipple and clit clips suddenly start their fuzzy stimulation routine, the Amazon loses all pretense of control and simply goes blind with absolute pleasure.

“HERA! OHHHH! GODDESS OF GRACE! STOP IT! S...Stop this...pleeeeeassse.. PLEASE! Ohhhhhhhhhh! I...can’t....I...can’t....Uhh...huh....huh... HUUUGHHNNNNNN!”

Wonder Woman’s eyes clench shut, her mouth opens to a wide oval of ecstacy, and her world shuts down to nothing but a white nova of her mind-stunning orgasm. Pinned on her back in bondage with both arms restrained in steel, the Amazon is helpless to prevent the humiliating scene of her pussy erupting like a volcano, with a shower of juicy cum that sprays up like Krakatoa followed quickly by a flow of more cum pouring out of her snatch like lava flooding down the smooth slopes of her ass on one side and through the lush black thickets of her pubic bush on the other.

The powerful sex toy has done everything that Pascal hoped it would. Indeed, Wonder Woman is completely devastated by this third orgasm. After a minute of mindless drooling and the shakes, the exhausted female begins to sob openly. She’s been reduced to the level of a frightened child.

“...i...don’t want to be here...wanna go home to Themyscira....see my mommy...be protected by...H...Hippolyta in the palace...forget the world of men...let me go...I’ll be good...I promise...i..will..just let me go. Please...please....pleasssssseeeeeeeee....” After three minutes of bawling, Wonder Woman finally drifts into a semi-conscious haze and goes slack in her bondage, a very lost soul.

“So, gentlemen, may I see your badges, please?”

John Quigley has led the two detectives into his parlor, which probably had been featured in a spread in Architectural Digest magazine entitled “Plush Retreats of the Fabulously Rich.” It’s a large room with two conversation areas featuring matching white leather couches, glass coffee tables, colorful contrasting throw pillows, and brilliant sunlight streaming through white linen window treatments that cost more than the two detectives monthly salaries combined.

“Excuse me,” Abato responds.

“Come, come, gentlemen. I am being forthcoming with you. I would hope you would afford me the same respect. You’re obviously police officers and not lawyers despite what you told Freezia. Even she saw through your poor charade.”

The two detectives abashedly display their badges for review.

“At least you used your real names,” Quigley says after inspecting the badges. “Won’t you have a seat,” he motions to one of the couches and the detectives sit down while Quigley takes the matching armchair across from them. “Can I get you a drink, something non-alcoholic as you’re on duty? I’ve had some peach and ginger iced tea made. It’s no trouble.”

“Thank you, I’d like that,” Jimmy says before Sal can decline for the two of them.

“Excellent,” Quigley rings a small glass bell from one of the end tables and the lovely young black maid comes into the room. “Would you bring us three iced teas, Freezia.”

“Yessir,” she actually curtsies, but manages to give Sal a baleful glare before she exits.

Quigley chuckles, having seen her look. “You managed to get on my girl’s bad side rather quickly it seems, Detective Abato. But it’s not hard to do. She tends to be easily combative but came with excellent references.”

“I..uh..am sorry if I came on too strong in our desire to see you, sir.”

“I don’t believe it was your interest in seeing me that had her piqued but rather your interest in her. She is fetching, I’ll give you that.”

When Abato goes red, Jimmy intercedes, “We appreciate your directness and honesty, Mr. Quigley...regarding your association with Mr. Detherlink. BattleAxe. How did you come to know him, if I may ask?”

“I’ve supplied him with some of his weapons in the past and most recently some powerful tranquilizers.”

“You admit that?” Sal leans forward, startled.

“Certainly, why not,” replies Quigley who leans back in his chair, draping his arm over its wide back with complete nonchalance. “I supply many people with hard-to-get items in my business. The other day I was able to provide a wrist unit that fires blinding little flash beads for a superheroine by the name of Dazzle. She was most appreciative. I supply both sides in the battle between good and evil, gentlemen. For profit of course. I can’t be held responsible any more than Lockheed is for how its fighter planes are used.

“Uh huh,” Sal says, taken aback by the boldness of the admission. The man probably kept a team of lawyers busy on retainer just to keep his ass out of jail. But he did have style. Looking around, Sal adds, “Seems like business has been good.”

“I make a decent living at it, I’m not ashamed to say. The continuing clash of wills between those who would sunder our society and those who protect it requires my specialized attention to detail that everyone seems to appreciate...and for which they pay generously.”

“And if people should, say, die by the use of your...toys, Mr. Quigley, it’s their hard luck?” Sal gives the arms dealer a dose of his own harsh honesty. “You sleep like a baby, do you?”

“Ahh, here’s our tea.”

When Freezia offers the silver tray with its crystal tumblers of glinting tea to Sal, he takes it from her and gives her a nod, a smile and a thank you that draws a minutely lifted lip and a sarcastic “My pleasure” from the maid. She gives Jimmy a genuine smile when he takes his glass from the tray.

As Quigley takes his own tea from Freezia she bends low and nods to him. This maneuver puts her ass directly in front of Sal’s face, allowing a full view of her black silk panties under the frilly costume skirt. The tightly-stretched fabric not two feet from Sal’s face provides the wide-eyed detective with a lingering glimpse of heaven’s cleft. And then the smell of her silent fart hits as Freezia straightens up.

“Hope you enjoy that......tea, Mr. Abato,” the girl says with false civility and departs.

Quigley gives an amused snort as he sips his drink. It’s not his first introduction to the use of chemical warfare or Freezia’s tactic. He’s just glad he’s far enough away that the smell he knows must be irritating the Italian cop across from him.

Even Jimmy gets a waft from it and settles back on the couch away from it. He presses on with a briefly wrinkled nose, “Would you have any sort of receipt for this sale of the tranquilizer to Battle Axe. It would clear up our files and help us settle this case once and for all.”

“I believe I do. My records are meticulous. One doesn’t want disputes over billing errors with people armed with such advanced technological weaponry. The outcome could be unpleasant. I will retrieve it if you will wait here.”

While he’s out of the room, Sal and Jimmy whisper with heads together.

“Well, this worked out much better than I expected,” Jimmy says. He then drains the majority of his glass in a satisfied gulp. “Mmm, that is good tea. Could have done without the extra spice from Freezia, though.”

“Little bitch! But it was worth it to get a look up that skirt,” Sal says with a sigh before taking a long pull on his own tea. “If the tox screen shows the tranqs in any or all of the heroines, we’ve pretty much closed this case against BattleAxe.”

“Just good plodding police work,” Jimmy replies. He finishes his tea and then rises as Quigley returns with a paper in hand.

“I made you a copy you may retain for your investigation. You’ll see the invoice includes a chemical breakdown of the tranquilizer. I’d imagine your medical examiner will appreciate my thoroughness.”

“No doubt,” says Sal as he puts down his glass on the coffee table. “Thanks for your time, Quigley,” his voice is cool as he looks around. “I hope I don’t have to come back here and bust you some day. That would be bad for your business.”

“I doubt I’ll lose much sleep over it detective. In fact, I do sleep like a baby. I pay my lawyers so I can.”

“The price of success, Quigley.”

“Take care, Detective. Danger lurks out there in many forms.”

“You should know since you provide so many of them.”

“Quite so. Gentlemen, let me see you to the door.”

Settling back in the car, as Sal puts it into gear, Jimmy declares with a shake of his head, “Smooth operator.”

Sal just grunts. He’s thinking of black silk heaven.

“Rise and shine, sleepy head. You are letting your life drift by, lazy bones. Oh wait, you cannot rise. You are heavily restrained. Silly me.”

“...whu...?...whatju say...? huh?...” Wonder Woman hears the voice but takes a moment to register what’s going on. After twenty seconds she’s able to focus more. “...Pascal..is that ...you....?...”

“But of course, cherie. Who else would it be?”

“..whuz...goen...on..? Where....are you..?”

“I am in another room. Phone calls to make, plans to refine. I have been attending to the details while you had that magnificent third climax. I am so pleased you are enjoying my toy.”

“...saw...that...? You SAW me!”

“But of course, my dear. I have planted pinhole cameras throughout the house. Your long pitiful decline at my hands has all been thoroughly documented. Along with your change from Diana Prince to Wonder Woman. I have been too busy to watch it in its entirety but I scanned the feeds from the upstairs, the storeroom and the laboratory in which you currently reside. The resolution is quite remarkable.”

“....you....you....you....” Too stunned by the news and far too weary to even build a sentence, Wonder Woman just stutters, dumbfounded and heart sick.

“Me, me, me.” Pascal’s chuckles can be heard clearly through the speaker in the ceiling. He has paid a small fortune for the complete security package but it will certainly pay for itself in DVD sales in the near future. Who would think that revenge could be so profitable? “Well, I do believe my 45 minutes will be up shortly. I’ll return then, after your next orgasm, mon amie.”

“...can’t...be..true....” Wonder Woman groans. “This...this is a..nuh...n...nightmare...”

When the fuzzy feeling in her nipples starts up, the captive Amazon is jolted into reality by the intense pleasure in her breasts. She realizes all too clearly that this nightmare is very real. And that it is endless. And the fact that it hasn’t come to an end may be the bright spot in her day.

End of Part 25