Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 26  

For the fourth time in an hour, the world-famous Amazon beauty feels the rubber bladders inside her vagina and anal passage shudder and shimmy as they slowly inflate. The smooth latex sides of the sex toy’s two dildos gently begin to crowd the walls of her pussy and her ass, expanding against them, filling her, their sudden firmness packing her tightly, insinuating themselves into her psyche as they flutter within her and urge her into a heated yearning she can’t ignore.

“Oh no..no....ohhhhhhhhh....” The whimpering heroine moans and frets as the distracting ripples under the skin of the bladders begin to stoke the heat of her blood. “..dear Hera...n..not ag..g..gain...”

Helplessly splayed on her back and bound by unresistant steel for just over three hours now, Wonder Woman’s body is filled with aching tremors as painful cramps run through the muscles in her legs, arms and neck. Held immovable by steel bondage bars with her legs tucked behind her head and her crotch on display, the mighty Champion of All Women looks like anything but a champion. Her face glistens with sweat. Her once lustrous black hair is limp and bedraggled against her bare shoulders with strands of it pasted to her forehead. Her huge breasts, naked and swollen from three titanic orgasms, now rise and fall at a quickened pace from the pleasure rising within her. Her thighs and ass bear the slick sheen of her own cum that had burst forth from her with volcanic delight. Far from heroic, the mewling female bound and helpless on the large concrete block in Rene Pascal’s basement is Wonder Woman in name only. There is nothing wondrous about her whatsoever.

The sex toy fixed to her body registers only moderate levels of excitement in her and its programming initiates more stimulation through the two nipple clamps and the single clit clip, buzzing them gently but suddenly. The effect has Wonder Woman jerking in place and her eyelids fluttering. The cramps are forgotten, overwhelmed by the pleasure she is receiving.

“...uhh.hhhuhhh..huuhhhhhhh...” Her extended moans fill the air as her body quivers with cascading aftershocks through her every nerve. “...d..damn..him..damn him...to...H...H..Hades!”

Her nipples are on fire with pleasure as the lazy electric current teases them to agonized heights of tingling desire. Wonder Woman shakes her upper torso with a heavy jerk, trying to knock the clamps off her tortured nipples but it’s completely useless. She knew it would be. They remain in place tickling and humming and creating madness in the fevered heroine’s mind.

“PASCAL...STOP!!!...STOP THIS...PLEEEEEAASSSSE!!! PASCAL... PLEASSSE..”

“No.” A single word out of the ceiling speaker and nothing more.

The clit clip increases the electric current to a higher level and the pink nub held in its three prongs is filled with a stroking surge of pleasure that once again jolts Wonder Woman’s entire body in place within the cold black steel bars that trap her.

“UNNGHH! OH...OH..OH....NO....OHHHHHHHHHH!”

The prongs send waves of tickling electric pleasure up and down the length of her clit in a mind-numbing sequence that feels like fingertips gently twisting at her nub to the left and right, over and over. The sensation destroys any will that Wonder Woman might have had in reserve. And when the bladders in the two dildos begin an even more rapid fluttering, pulsing and rippling against the very tightly-packed walls of her pussy and ass, the haughty Princess of Themyscira is brought low, turned into a helpless head-nodding, drooling, eye-fluttering creature of unbridled lust. There are no green arcs of restraint in her mind, no careful calming breaths, no control of any kind. There are simply white waves of pleasure that sweep over her, through her, and within her very being as she cries out in a howling climax of absolute pleasure. Eyes clenched, body shaking, hips jerking back and forth, Wonder Woman sprays the air with her rainbow of cum droplets.

“AAIEEEYYYYYAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The air smells of Wonder Woman’s pleasure. She has sprayed her scent and now drowns in a fog of silky comfort. Her tongue lolls out from between her bruised and chapped lips and the satiated heroine is left dull and incoherent by her fourth orgasm in an hour’s time. When her breathing slows, when the massive tits rise and fall like gentle tidal pools, Pascal returns, striding toward his subject. He sniffs the air and his eyebrows rise as he smirks down at his prize. The dazed Amazon’s head tilts slightly to the side, her heavy eyelids showing only slivers of white with her eyes rolled up high underneath. Silvery trickles of her cum are draining out of her crotch with the thin dildo hoses leading to her pussy and ass now flat and limp.

With her expression of stupefied satisfaction, the mighty Wonder Woman looks like nothing more than a moronic satiated cum slut, played out and worthless on the set of some porn movie that’s wrapped for the day. And nobody told the used over-the hill porn star to wake up and go home.. A figure without dignity, the famous heroine is trussed up in helpless bondage before her conqueror with no more sense than a gurgling infant. Pascal leans down and checks the device that measures her strength reading against the steel bars. Her power levels have dropped significantly over the hour and the scientist is greatly pleased. Wonder Woman softly mumbles in her dazed state. “...niiiiice....”

“Yes, pain you learned to master, Wonder Woman, but pleasure, well, what can I say; once a cunt, always a cunt. Now let me see, what I else I can do to disgrace this pathetic costume of yours, cherie. I am feeling most artistic.”


In the car on the way back into Washington, D.C., Sal and Jimmy are finally in a good mood. Both men are smiling around large Angus burgers they bought through the fast-food drive-through. After taking a generous sip of Coke, Jimmy turn his head and addresses Sal.

“I didn’t think we’d clear this today but we did it, partner. It was BattleAxe in the conservatory with a shotgun,” Jimmy jokes, alluding to the board game Clue.

“And a flamethrower. And a garrotte. But yeah, we closed it,” Sal answers, popping three fries into his mouth from the bag nestled in his lap below the steering wheel.

“We’re on the wrong side of the law though, if you ask me,” Jimmy pouts as he sucks more soda through his straw. “Did you see how that bastard Quigley lives! Fuckin’ mansion, servants, probably insane wheels in his garage...”

“Sure pays to straddle the line the way he does,” Sal says. “Typical arms dealer middleman bullshit but because he supplies heroes as well as villains, he gets a free pass. Well, he gets no free pass from me. I catch him stepping over the line I’ll drag him downtown and toss him in the holding tank for a day just to give him a taste of a cage.”

“With his lawyers, he’d be out before the door slammed.”

“Maybe, maybe not. There are ways to stall.”

“If you’re anxious for a civil suit, have a party, Sal. Just leave me out of it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get back and finish up this paperwork and close this damn case.”

“I hear that.”


Wonder Woman can’t focus her thoughts. Her breasts still gleam with Pascal’s neural inhibitor salves and she’s befuddled and dazed by all the energy she’s expended from four massive orgasms. So when Pascal swiftly releases the wrist bar pinning her left hand to the cement block and swings it aside, she’s too confused to realize the opportunity to struggle.

Her eyes drift dully over to his face looming over her as he grabs her left hand, twists it so the back of her hand is flat against the concrete and with his other hand jerks her thumb up and in against the inside of her palm. She shrieks, her vision swimming in waves of sudden wrenching pain as her thumb is dislocated. She tries to pull her hand away and, knowing she would, his left hand shifts like lighting, grips the Feminum bracelet and Wonder Woman herself pulls her own arm back, leaving the bracelet in the grasp of her foe, her wrist bare. Before she can muster the awareness of this event, Pascal uses both hands to press Wonder Woman’s hand back against the wrist plate and swings the wrist bar back in place with a loud click.

“...whaahthav......you....duhnn...tah...mee...?....”

“I disarmed you, Princess, so to speak. I suspect the other wrist might be more of a challenge now that you know my tricks, but I mean to have that other bracelet of yours. What to do? What to do?”

“...ow....my thumb....my thumb...hurtz....”

“Oh, that. Let me fix that since you’ll need it later.” A quick jerk by the French doctor relocates the thumb in an instant. A slow circling of it by the wet-eyed Amazon shows no long-term damage done. She’d had to do it to herself on one or two rare occasions. It was never pleasant when she did.

Pascal walks over to his workbench opens a drawer and returns with a syringe and a tiny bottle. He fills the syringe from the bottle as a gawking, shaking Wonder Woman pulls and strains against the wide black steel bars pinning her down.

“...no...what’s that...don’t...no...please...don’t inject me....please...don’t...”

“Oh, hush now, hero. You are being a big baby.. This is just a muscle relaxant. We do not want you to hurt yourself do we?”

“...you...inhuman creep....I...hate you. I HATE YOU!!! GET AWAY! STAY AWAY FROM ME..STAY AW...OWW! Owwww! You...you BASTARD! You sadistic little toad! If I ever..ever... uuuhhhnn...oh....dizzeee...”

“Sorry I had to jab your arm so roughly, Wonder Woman, but you were most uncooperative. But you’ll rest now for a bit. Do you a world of good. Oh, and the muscle relaxant is combined with a bit of a sleep drug. I fibbed a bit. I have to prepare you for the next stage of my experiment after all and cannot have you disturbing my procedures.”

With practiced ease, Pascal unbuckles the sex toy’s straps, squeezes open the pinching clips gripping Wonder Woman’s nipples and clit, strips off the sensors and pulls the device away from her body. He carries it over to his workbench and replaces it in a steel drawer before returning to face the dully nodding heroine.

“Now let me get that other bracelet of yours off you.” Pascal repeats the procedure as before, unlocking the wrist bar and pinning Wonder Woman’s hand in place against the concrete block. With her brain dulled to mush, her limp arm gives no real resistance.

“...don’t want you...to...bracelet is mine...given to me......by gods..” the heroine mumbles.

“Never mind that. I need it and that is all there is to it.”

“AARGH! Owwww....my thumb....my thumb...”

Pascal slides the second bracelet off the limp arm and then quickly relocates the sore digit into it’s joint and re-locks her wrist in place.

“There, not so horrible, eh? Now rest easy, Wonder Woman while I tend to these bracelets.”

“...why...what.re..you...gonna do...”

“I am going to turn them into much more ingenious jewelry. No more blocking bullets with these, cherie.”

“..can’t...damage them.....it’s...it’s...Feminum...too strong....”

“So was your tiara, you brainless cow, and that ended up stuffed up your twat if you recall. Not to fear, Wonder Woman. I am sure I can manage. You just rest, cherie, while I make wondrous art of these trinkets of yours, yes?” He wags the bracelets back and forth in the air in triumph as he turns and heads out of the room.

Pascal is in mid-stride, moving toward the heavy steel door leading to the stairs up to the first floor when he hears his captive growl behind him, a sound so raw and deep that for a moment he thinks a genuine animal has gotten loose somehow in the house. He spins on his heels, startled and wary. Then he sees Wonder Woman’s eyes and the cold light of complete madness in them.

She presses her head back against her ankles and suddenly screams at the top of her lungs, “VENGEANCE........IS.......MINE.......IT’S..MINE!!!!”

And that’s when her arms pull up and rip the 6" bolts straight out of the heart of the concrete block. Both sides of the wrist clamps fly upward, the scraping screech of crying metal filling the room. The heavy steel bars still clasped around Wonder Woman’s wrists swing through the air in dangerous dark gray blurs of motion. Pascal looks on in total shock as Wonder Woman slams the clamps down onto the concrete. The steel bars warp and twist away, falling off her wrists in broken segments, while large chunks of the concrete block on which the heroine is pinned shatter to dust on both sides of the wild-eyed beauty.

The little-known, terrible berserker rage that fills Wonder Woman when both bracelets are removed has begun. And when the mighty Amazon’s hands reach back and pry out the upright steel stanchions that hold the crossbar pinning her legs to the concrete block, she is enveloped by a grainy beige cloud of gritty concrete dust.

Horrified and fearing for his life, Pascal turns and runs out of the room at a gallop. Twisting out of her tormented position, Wonder Woman rolls off the heavily damaged cement block and lands on her feet, anxious to follow Pascal and throttle the very life out of him. But after three hours of being pinned in one position, her body falters and she falls heavily to her knees from the spasms running through her, an intense muscle fatigue incapacitating her for the moment. The Frenchman wrests with the heavy steel door, his face panicked as he looks back at the kneeling Wonder Woman. When he finally opens the door wide enough he slips through and dashes up the stairs, letting the door swing shut behind him.

After only fifteen seconds, filled with rage, the mighty Amazon beauty is able to rise to her full height, her balance restored even as her cursed madness gives icy sparkles to her arctic blue eyes. Her massive breasts sway and wobble in the cold fluorescent light. Her wild thatch of pubic hair glints with inky beauty as Wonder Woman’s fists clench and release as she stands there while she regains full use of her muscles. On the floor beside her feet, her tattered bustier has ripped completely at the waist with the strain of her escape from bondage. It now lies in a fallen heap of bright red and gold fabric. The enraged Amazon, however, is oblivious of her near total nakedness. Only her shiny red and white-striped boots and her golden belt around her waist remain of her famous costume.

She heads toward the same heavy steel door through which Pascal had fled. She is on the blood scent and she will not be denied. When she comes up to the door she grabs the handle and yanks hard, pulling the door off its hinges. She tosses it aside and heads up the stairs toward her quarry.

“PASCAL! NO ESCAPE FOR YOU! TIME IS UP!” The bellowing woman takes the stairs three at a time, stretching out her limbs and mindlessly exulting in the freedom from the black steel bars she’d been held in for far too long. “COMING PASCAL. FEAR ME! FEAR MY WRATH!!”

Wonder Woman is at the landing and turning for the second flight of stairs when two gas grenades in rapid succession explode at her feet. Although she leaps backward in thoughtless alarm, the raven-haired heroine is suddenly engulfed by streaming thick yellow plumes of acrid, stinging knockout gas that burns her lungs and fills her eyes with blinding tears. Mindlessly, she suddenly charges forward up the stairs at Pascal who is dropping two grenade launchers from his hands and is reaching for a bright chrome weapon tucked behind the belt holding up his suit pants.

Coughing and choking the berserk beauty is fixated on nothing but revenge and mayhem as she clambers up the steps toward the nervous Pascal.

“WILL (COUGH) HURT YOU (WHEEZE) BAD, PASCAL!! (HAGGCK, HAGGCK)”

She is just three steps away from her target, her arms extended and her hands forming claws of terrible menace as she reaches out to grab his shirt and beat him to a bloody pulp when the first dart jabs into her right breast.

“UUNGH!”

The second dart pierces her belly and stings badly.

“ARGHH!”

The third and fourth darts stab into her left and then her right thigh

“OW! OHH!” All four darts dangle from their embedded wounds in the naked heroine’s body, all of the tiny sharp missiles releasing their potent fast-acting tranquilizer in serum into her bloodstream with noticeable effect. Pascal takes two rapid steps back and watches the stunning Amazon with anxious eyes. She stumbles forward, her clutching hands now splayed wide and slapping hard against the wood floor as she sprawls in an ungainly flop at Pascal’s feet. And even with the gas grenades causing rasping gasps from her tortured lungs and four massive doses of tranquilizers in her bloodstream filling her with a helpless lassitude she can’t escape, still Wonder Woman manages to pull on Pascal’s ankles and yank him off his feet, sending him flailing backward until his back slams against the hard wood floor in a heavy, breath-stealing thump.

“HUUUNNHH!”

“...get you....yet....” She mumbles and crawls onto him as he lies on his back, dazed and scared to death. She rears up, pulls her arm back and sends her fist straight at Pascal’s face in a merciless jab, expecting to crush his nose and exact retribution for his heinous ways. He turns his head and shifts it to the right at the last moment and her blow scrapes against his ear and slips off his head so her knuckles crack against the hard floor and split in several places.

“Oww!” Pascal yelps with pain

“Aaaieeee!” Wonder Woman screeches in agony. Still, with her berserker mind set, the vengeful warrior rears back for a second, more telling blow when the full effect of the tranquilizers finally take complete hold of her system. Her arm falters and goes limp, her eyes roll up under her lids, with only the whites showing and the famous Wonder Woman collapses senselessly on top of Pascal. Her naked body is splayed over his, her breasts crushing against the sides of his face, smothering him in her sweaty cleavage. Her warm crotch is pressed against his belly, her legs interleaved with his as she breathes heavily in an unconscious stupor on top of him.

After an awkward moment, Pascal is able to wrench out his arms from underneath the heavy dead weight of the naked Amazon and push her off him in a rolling thumping of her lifeless arms.

“Get off of me, you mindless cunt,” he groans and finally sits up, gasping and sweaty but throughly relieved. That was far too close for comfort for the fastidious scientist. His ear is bloody and is ringing in his head and he cups it gingerly. He’d have to tend to this immediately.

Where had all her strength come from? Why had she been so crazed? He looks at Wonder Woman prone before him, her eyes closed and her mouth gaping open. Drool slides down her cheek. Her belt still clinches at her waist, her pubic hair glimmers with her sweat and her cum. With her legs slightly splayed, the toes of her boots point in opposite directions. The Amzaon’s huge breasts rise and fall in the slow rhythmic pace of a completely zoned-out druggie. Thank goodness for that.

He’d never heard anything about this kind of berserk behavior before. He was lucky he’d been prepared for a counter attack that he had expected to come much earlier in the proceedings. If the acid attack had missed or any of a half-dozen other scenarios had failed to play out, the gas grenades and automatic stun pistol had been made ready. He was grateful he’d thought of such fail-safes but he certainly had never expected to need them this far into the staging of his experiment with the Amazon. She was truly a wonder of nature. A worthy opponent that he was glad to have fought and defeated.

The darts should certainly hold her for quite some time while he got everything ready for her next humiliation. At least he damned well hoped they would. But with this bitch, who knew for sure? She seemed fully capable of rising from the dead if that were needed. But he thought, ultimately even Wonder Woman couldn’t do that.

Pascal stands up and goes to pour himself a stiff drink of scotch. He’d earned it.

“I will deal with you shortly, cherie.” He winces as he feels his ear and heads for the bathroom to perform some quick stitching. “You are just full of surprises, my dear.”


Major Steve Trevor types away at his keyboard in the late afternoon light coming through his office window. He is just finishing up an email directed to Detective Salvatore Abato. In the email Steve notes that he’d been trying to reach Sal throughout the day without success so he’s now trying email. He requests that Abato check his list of U.S. purchasers of Elimanol with the names from Interpol using the highly specialized nerve agent purchases for any matches and to get back to him ASAP. He hits “Send” just as Etta knocks on his door again.

“Any word from Diana or Wonder Woman, Steve?”

“Not a thing and I’m very concerned.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Etta bats her eyelashes at Steve as she thrusts her chest out a bit. He stares through her like a window.

“Hmmm? Oh, no, I don’t think so, Etta. No wait, yes, there is!”

“Oooh, what?” Her heart flutters with anticipation, hanging on his every word.

“Get me the file on the superheroine murders, I need to check something for myself.”

“Oh, sure, of course.” Etta’s whole demeanor collapses into horrible posture as she turns to retrieve the file.

“Time to take the bull by the horns myself, I think,” Steve says with conviction. “Time I went into the field again. Long overdue, in fact. This desk jockey crap is for the birds! Etta! Move your big butt!”

“STEVE!” The voice shouting from the other room doesn’t sound as outraged as pleased that he noticed her butt.


Wonder Woman is flat on her back and completely unconscious from the combination of all her exertions during her berserker episode and the knockout drugs coursing through her system. So, the famous Amazon warrior shows no flicker of eyelids, no awareness, nothing but the slow rise and fall of her big bare breasts. Pascal lifts up her knees until they bend with her boots pointed down, pulls them apart and lays them to either side against the flat table in his laboratory. This is the same table on which the Scarlet Avenger, Flare and Destiny met their tragic fates and which Wonder Woman herself will meet hers once Pascal was done humiliating her for his revenge of his sister’s death.

Still shaken by both anger and fear from his close call with this formidable bitch, Pascal’s hands tremble slightly as he nervously fingers his bandaged ear. Three stitches had been enough and the bandage was a simple wide fabric BandAid wrapped around the front edge of the ear just near his temple. Taking a deep breath and he takes hold of a can of shaving cream from the table and shakes up the can vigorously.

“I will show this bitch who she is dealing with,” he growls as he lowers the can between Wonder Woman’s legs and sprays a generous hissing heap of foam onto her thick mound of pubic hair. He sets down the can and smears the white foam all over and through the silky black tangled curls, swirling it slowly. He relaxes, takes another deep breath and lets himself grow calmer until his hands no longer quiver as they circle and press the shaving cream around the insensible beauty’s pubis on his table. There’s not even a moan from the famous heroine as Pascal takes up his old-fashioned double edged razor, bends down and lowers his face between the woman’s thighs for mint-scented close up view of his work at hand.

“Okay, Wonder Woman, time to go ultimate commando.”

Holding his left hand on her left thigh for balance, Pascal slowly and carefully scrapes the rectangular razor head through the left side of the foamy mound. Like smooth sandpaper on soft wood, the sound of Wonder Woman’s hair being scraped away in a slow steady stroke is music to Pascal’s ears. He’d heard or read somewhere that an Amazon’s pubic bush was a sign of her strength and courage and dominance. If that were true then his shaving of this thick and bushy carpet of hers was just one more demeaning step on the stairway to her own personal hell.

He pulls another stroke on the left side of her pussy and scrapes away a generous amount of foam and hair leaving a pale fleshy swath of completely naked skin between the piled foam ridges on either side. The mighty Wonder Woman’s pussy was going to be as naked and pink as a pre-pubescent girl’s by the time he was done with her. Every inch of skin around her heavenly portal of pleasure was going to be capable of feeling absolute joy without the protection of any hair to dull her senses from the next device he was going to use on her. He wanted to be guaranteed she’d have no way to prevent the experience from overwhelming her completely.

Smiling now, he scrapes a stripe of foam away on the right side of her cunt, carrying off all the tangled tiny inky black ringlets embedded in the thick white foam. He knocks them off the razor against the edge of a waiting ceramic bowl. Nothing is left where he shaved that area but a naked stripe of pale beautiful skin. Humming softly, Pascal gently and continuously scrapes away all of the mighty Amazon’s bush. Pass after pass, the razor circles and strokes and spins and curves over the gentle waves of flesh around her naked crotch. Carefully, methodically and oh so slowly, the Frenchman removes every bit of hair, every vestige of her adulthood until nothing is left but pink and beige lips of her labia staring out from Wonder Woman’s completely bald cunt.

Wiping away the remnants of the shaving cream with a pass of a small towel, Pascal smiles lecherously at his handiwork. He then passes his palm over the area, feeling the incredible smoothness of her naked pussy, the heat of it, the defenselessness of her. He cups her sex and just holds his hand there with a pleased sigh. He has shorn the mighty Amazon warrior of her regal bush and now she lies before him: a helpless, defenseless captive. To see her lying there on the table before him, her eyes closed, mouth slack, knees spread wide, breasts bare, bald pussy filling his hand, it fills him with a calmness somehow for the moment. All life’s work come to fruition.

Removing his palm, he then enjoys the long, luxurious strokes he takes on her powerfully muscled inner thighs. Up and down his hands glide, squeezing the flesh there and filling himself with his own sense of power at his complete domination of one of the most powerful and revered heroines on the planet. And still there is no moaning, no sound issuing from the senseless form on the table before him. He hadn’t even had to bind her with all the potent drugs and knockout gas he’d used on her. But he would bind her now. And with her very own lasso.


Steve Trevor and Etta Candy are poring over the list of purchasers of Elimanol and the list of purchasers of a highly-specialized nerve agent that Steve had received via fax from Interpol earlier that day. Etta is reading off names from her shorter Interpol list and Steve is checking them against his much longer six-page list from the U.S. purchasers of Elimanol. It’s a tedious job that could have been instantly completed by computer if budget-cutting hadn’t taken away yet another aide from the IADC team and left them short-handed. No one had entered the list and the damn scanner was broken. On a quiet Sunday, all they could do was cross-check the list manually between the two of them. Steve was flipping back and forth between the pages with increasing frustration. The damn list wasn’t even arranged alphabetically but instead was a chronological list in order of date purchased. Not helpful at all. His face reddens as Etta reads the next name from her Interpol list.

“Reardon Pharmaceuticals,” she says calmly, trying to impose her calmness on Steve, which only seems to agitate him more. Lives could be in the balance here!

He flips through the pages searching with desperate eyes. He had a bad feeling about this. Very bad.

“Yes. I do have a Reardon here! That’s it!” He shouts triumphantly and starts to rise, heading for his uniform jacket on the coat tree in the corner of his office.

“But wait Steve. We have to do the whole list. There may be more than one matching customer.”

“But there’s no time....” His arms splay out to the sides, waving in urgent circles.

“You don’t know that. You’re just worried about Diana. We have to be thorough or otherwise we could be going off on a wild goose chase with the wrong name. Let’s continue until I’m done with my list completely.”

“...but...but...”

“You know I’m right.”

Glumly, Steve walks back to his desk and sits down again and picks up the sheaf of pages. He looks up at Etta sitting across from him who is waiting patiently for him until he nods stiffly.

“Andover Medical,” Etta says softly, her chocolate brown eyes watching Steve’s beautiful blue ones as they scan the pages with frantic despair, the flipping sheets of paper noisy in his busy, angry hands.


Wonder Woman is fighting desperately against a thick white fog that encompasses all her senses. Her head feels like it’s wrapped in layers of cotton. She can’t focus her thoughts at all. She feels a dull chill over almost her whole body and her weight is on her forearms. Her forehead is pressed against something soft. Smells like dirt. She sluggishly opens her eyes. Dark brown earth fills her vision. She’s bent forward on her knees with her crotch resting on something smooth and hard. What’s more, she’s entangled in some kind of rope, around her neck, her wrists, and draped against the crack in her ass.

“...uuuuuhhhhhhnnnn....” she moans as she tries to fight the confusion and dull ache throughout every muscle it seemed. What happened....to me.....?

“Oh, what seems to be the problem, Wonder Woman? Not feeling in top form?”

“...whuutt....?....” With great effort the disoriented heroine lifts her head up and bricks swim into view. A curved wall of them. Where....am.....I...?...

“I understand that it is not particularly fair play for me to have handicapped you with a drug patch on your arm there, especially after subjecting you to two knockout gas grenades and four doses of tranquilizers but you were being unreasonable and violent. I had to take precautions.”

“...p...paa....pas...cal...?....”

“Yes, that is correct. Very good, my little idiot.”

“...whud’jhu...doo..?...” Wonder Woman raises herself up slowly, exhausted and bewildered. Her right forearm is buried in the dirt floor, her left hand slides over body, mindlessly searching herself for clothing. There so little there. Some tattered thing draped around her torso, barely there, entangled in the rope. Can’t focus...Why can’t I... think good..?...

“I defeated you, Wonder Woman. Yet again. Still, it never seems to get dull for me. Turning your aggressive warrior nature against you. Beating you down. Teaching you your place. You deserve this treatment for what you did to my sister.”

“....m...mary....”

“MARIE! IT’S MARIE, YOU CUNT!!!”

The screaming man frightens the confused Amazon beauty and she turns her head in shock, looking back at his enraged, red face, his balled fists, his shaking body as he stands over her just four feet away, seething with violence. She is afraid for her life.

“Don’t hurt me....don’t....please...” She lowers her head and cowers there, her body settling down as she makes herself small. She quivers in place and feels her crotch press against some smooth bump that pushes into the cleft between her thighs. She can’t figure what it is and doesn’t ever remember feeling anything quite like it. Feels comforting though. Fits nicely into her slit. Like it belongs.

“I want to hurt you, Wonder Woman. A lot. But I choose not to right now. In fact, for now, I will be making you feel what it is like to lose control, bitch. To lose control so much, it will seem like you never had it.”

“...don’t...don’t....get you... I don’t....understand....”

“It does not matter. You do not have to understand. You just have to suffer the indignity of it all.”

“...huh...whut.....I don’t ....why...?...why...?....”

“Because you need to be put in your place at long last, Amazon. Because someone had to stand up to you and show you that you cannot play with people’s lives and not face the consequences. I am your consequence, bitch, for how you handled my sister so many years ago. I am here to reap sweet revenge on her behalf for how you thoughtlessly let her die without lifting a finger.”

“...I didn’t...do that...did I... that isn’t me... i...i...c..c..care...about...people....” Wonder Woman shakes her head, in denial and to try to clear the cobwebs but she can’t. She’s fuzzy and bewildered and weak and cold and scared.

“You do not care about others, you lying cunt!” Pascal is spitting with venomous anger. “You put yourself above everybody. You are an imperious bitch who just lives for herself, for her own glory and fame and fortune. I see through you to your soul, Wonder Woman.”

“...not true...i..i...i...am...nice.....nice....”

“No. You are a cold-hearted selfish cunt who does not give a shit about others except for how it can make you feel important and beloved and adored.”

“..noohhh....am not...not like that...i..i..am..good...”.

“Good at fooling everybody. But you do not pull the wool over my eyes, you pathetic skank. I see you for the self-aggrandizing bitch you are. And all that false virtue and feminist crap you spout, it is pure bullshit. Just let someone or even something get you hot, you chubby cow, and you cream your panties like any other cunt I have ever known. More than most if you want the truth. All that repressed sexuality comes spurting out of you like a geyser when you get intimately excited, hero! I have that all on the video record, Wonder Woman. You cum real loud, slut, like any cheap back-alley whore and you cannot deny it.”

“....let me...go...you...are...sooo mean... stop taunting me....leave me....alone...” When Wonder Woman tries to pull herself together and get to her feet a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea sweeps through her. It is so strong that it knocks her back down, her forearms buried in the dirt again with her rump high in the air. “...ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh....” she moans weakly.

“Oh, that is not happening, Wonder Woman. Leaving you alone? Not likely. Fact is, we are moving right along into the next phase of your ultimate humiliation.”

End of Part 26

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer part 26