Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 30  

The heavy wooden door at the top of the stone steps blocks Wonder Woman’s way. Anxiously, she turns the bolt and is elated to hear the heavy mechanism slide smoothly into its channel. Pulling on the door, it slowly swings open. The room facing her is some sort of utility room with mops, cleansers and pails. The door to the basement lab is a shelving unit on its other side, a hidden passageway to Pascal’s lab.

“Lovely upscale townhouse with secret mad scientist lab, full amenities, mint condition. To die for,” Diana mumbles to herself and then realizes that her brain is now working better than it has in hours. All the drugs have worn off and she finally feels like herself. She’s thrilled to know it. “Now how do I get out of this hell-hole,” she ponders aloud.

Crossing to the door on the opposite wall, the heroine clad only in the scanty silk orange skirt of the fallen Destiny, opens the door and cautiously looks into the hallway outside. There’s nothing aimed at the door that she can tell and, fearing that Pascal is already on his feet by now and coming after her, Wonder Woman steps out into the open space. Far off to her left is a living room while far to her right is a dining room. She dashes for the living room, thinking the front door must be nearby. The slippery skirt flares out as she runs, showing off the curves of her thighs and the smooth bottoms of her bare buttocks wobbling beneath to unseen pinhole cameras positioned strategically throughout the house. They’re all recording to separate files but not going out to any live feeds for now.

Wonder Woman reaches the front door and is overjoyed. She twists the doorknob but it’s locked. She tries turning the bolt but it won’t move. She bangs the door angrily with her fist and whines, “No, no. I can’t believe this! Why is he a step ahead of me on everything?!”

She’s got to get out somehow and get help. Or at least get away from this man. But the cold air from her jerky movements makes her realize she’s virtually naked. Diana, her eyes wide with desperation, looks around, searching for a closet and a coat of any kind but there’s nothing in her field of vision and she’s running out of time. The bastard Frenchman is calling out for her as he ascends the stone steps. She can hear his voice coming from the swing-away shelving unit she’d left open in her haste to escape.

“Wonder Woman. Come back to me. We have more games to play! Come on, mon ami. Don’t be like this. Be a good little girl. I will give you something delicious to suck on, cherie! Like candy only better!”

Deciding she can’t go outside half naked no matter how she finally finds a way out, Diana makes the only logical choice. She extends her arms and then twirls quickly in the middle of the hallway. Her bare breasts stretch out and form a fleshy blur before the area fills with a blinding light and a loud pop of air as if an opening had suddenly been sucked closed tight by a huge vacuum.. A mere two seconds later, Diana Prince is standing in the hall wearing a simple blue skirt and fresh white blouse, the same clothes she’d been wearing when she climbed into Pascal’s window earlier that same morning. She is wearing pantyhose but no shoes. They’d dropped off when she’d been caught trying to get out the window. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She can barely believe it’s only Sunday night.

“Not a good day for my footwear,” she says, looking down at the seams in the toes of her stocking feet. Still, she feels better, calmer now that she’s wearing clothes again. “Now where’s another way out of this place?”

She takes two strides forward and then she freezes in place, remembering the small memory stick with the evidence of Pascal’s experiments upstairs in his study. She’d hidden it under the snow globe of Paris. If she runs out of the house now and returns with the police, who knows how much evidence he can destroy before she returns. She needs that stick. Frowning, Diana turns in place and sees the stairway to the upper levels right there. Without hesitation, she quickly scampers up it.

“Where are you, my big-breasted heroine? I have much better games to play than Hide and Seek.” Pascal is in the hallway just outside the utility room. He is holding the small video camera and scanning the area with it. “We can play Hide the Salami. Much more fun!”

Suddenly he hears the quick dull thumping of footsteps on the main stairs and heads in that direction. Softly he speaks for his internet audience.

“It appears that Wonder Woman is headed back upstairs for some reason instead of fleeing out the front door. I wonder why? Shall we follow and see,” he asks in a conspiratorial tone filled with mirth. Of course, he’d sealed all the doors into lock-down mode earlier so he wasn’t afraid the Amazon beauty would escape that way. There was that window in his study though. He’d closed it but if she were desperate enough, she might try to break it. Since it was triple-paned armored glass like all the windows in the place, he wasn’t much concerned. He’d get there long before she could make a dent in it. Without her belt, she was only as strong as a body builder, not superhuman. Striding down the hall with his camera still feeding the signal to the Internet audience, he’s giving them a cinema verite show: a chase scene that is slowly building more and more visitors to his website he imagines.

“Could it be that our illustrious super friend is going to try to reach help via the home phone in the study?” Pascal’s voice is a loud stage whisper. “Perhaps she will try to call 911? How sad it will be for her to discover I have cut off phone access while in lock-down mode. Tsk, tsk. I am smarter than you, Wonder Woman. You should know that by now. Say, I have an idea, I will switch to search mode on the house cameras for you viewers and maybe we will see where the little minx is headed. How about that, eh?”

Pascal takes out his cell phone and quickly taps through to the app he’s devised for the camera system within the house. He switches to the multiple view grid on his screen and sees the figure of a woman in a navy skirt and a white blouse holding onto the railing of his second floor landing. She’s heading toward his study. Momentarily perplexed, Pascal looks at the screen of his cell phone. Had someone else come in his house? Another agent? But then he realizes the figure can be no other than his Amazon prey. She’d switched back to her other persona.

Dejected that his prize is no longer naked, Pascal whispers to the camera’s audio input, “Who can that female be? Where is Wonder Woman? Things have gotten interesting. But while I chase this new quarry down, I need to be doubly careful so I will show you a bit of what went on earlier with Wonder Woman. Here is a clip of the interesting bondage rig I subjected her to earlier. Enjoy it and don’t forget to send all your friends the link to this site, Wonder Woman Screwed! They will be forever grateful you clued them into the fun. In the meantime, I will be back after I have recaptured Wonder Woman. Do not worry about that people. It is a done deal! Meanwhile enjoy this remarkable scene of the Champion of All Women reduced to a helpless upended turtle!”

Pushing a button on the phone, the app cuts to a view of Wonder Woman on her back with her body twisted into a human pretzel, writhing in frustration, her pussy showing through the tatters of her famous starred panties. Smiling at the image being fed to the world-wide web, Pascal puts the phone in his pocket, shuts off the microphone and hooks the hand-held camera onto his belt. Then proceeds upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

“Cherie, play time is over. We have terms to discuss. You need to come out now and face the music, Wonder Woman.”


Around the time Wonder Woman was getting her ass whipped by Pascal holding her lasso and guiding her towards his laboratory, the two police detectives on the case were trying to make their way to Pascal’s Chevy Chase residence without much success.

“It’s goddam Sunday evening and nobody’s got anything better to do than demonstrate in front of the fucking Chinese Embassy?”

Detective Sal Abato is furious as his car faces a line of police barricades that completely blocks off Connecticut Avenue. On the other side of the blue sawhorses, chanting demonstrators shout demands at the uncaring barred windows staring back at them.

“Free Chao Tsing! Hear Freedom Ring! Free Chao Tsing! Hear Freedom Ring!” The crowd repeats these words with a vehemence born of two hours practice. The phalanx of cops facing the fist-waving mob seems bored at this duty by now to Jimmy Glendennan, Abato’s partner. Nevertheless, he’s just as annoyed as Sal at the delay in getting to the residence of their suspect.

“Hell, we’re going to have to go all the way over to Wisconsin Avenue and then up and around to get to Chevy Chase from here.”

“I was going to have some of the boys help us go straight through while I run the siren,” the older Italian detective says, not joking.

“That’s crazy, Sal. They’ll damage the car. Dent the hood, who knows what. Maybe even pull us out. You’ll cause an international incident. Don’t be silly. Go back and over to Wisconsin.”

“That’ll be an extra twenty minutes easy. Things could be going south for that heroine even now.”

“You won’t help her by getting us beaten and stomped on before we can get there. Sal, I’m telling you this is irresponsible.”

A beat cop comes up to Sal’s window and raps gently on it with his night stick and Sal powers down the window with the push of a button.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, fella. Can’t you see what’s going on here? Clear this heap out of here before I start writing you a ticket.”

“The name’s Detective Abato, Officer....Stiles,” Sal says, reading the name badge on the shirt. “We’re on our way to question a possible homicide perp up in Chevy Chase.”

“Oh, terribly sorry, Detective. I’ll just move these 1200 screaming people right out of your way. I’m sure they won’t mind, you crazy son of a bitch!”

“What?!”

“You heard me, Detective. Get real and get out of here. There’s no way I’m letting you through this way. My captain would have me patrolling Porta-Johns on the mall in mid-winter if I let you through here. Go the fuck over to Wisconsin like a sane person, would you?”

“I’d like a little more professionalism out of you, Sergeant, before I go. There’s no call for your attitude,” Abato growls.

“Hey, pal. I’ve been here for three hours dealing with these nut jobs and their freedom to assemble. I don’t need some jerkwad homicide dick setting off these firecrackers more than they already are.”

“Hey, who’s a nut job?” A Chinese student stops waving his fist and chanting at the embassy and turns his head around toward the beat cop.

“Did you just call me a firecracker, you racist pig,” snarls a young Asian girl carrying a banner declaring: Tsing is China’s heart. Let him beat free! “Because I’m studying law and that’s very close to a hate crime!”

“Fine, I’m out of here,” Abato says, backing up his car quickly as the crowd around the beat cop gets nastier. “Have a fine day, Officer Stiles.”

“No thanks to you, you crazy fuck! No, miss,” he turns toward the lawyer-to-be using placating tones, “I assure you I was not disparaging your heritage....”

“The hell you weren’t!” She bellies up to him, her face coming up to his collar, her dark brown eyes shining with righteous vigor. The chanting behind her gets louder and less friendly as Abato pulls away.

“That went well,” Jimmy says, smirking at his partner. “And not a waste of time or incendiary to the situation in any way.”

“Hey, I had to give it a shot, right? We mighta’ gotten through” Abato says defensively as he hits the accelerator.

“Yeah, right. And that dissident might be freed tomorrow with a complimentary fortune cookie by a chastened Chinese dictatorship,” Jimmy replies. “You wanted to make that right you just passed.”

“I knew that!”


Diana Prince is crouching in Pascal’s study behind his desk. Her skirt is tight against her thighs, showing off her incredible shape as she wonders what on earth she can do now. The window is locked down and her efforts to open it have been futile, as have her elbow shots to the glass. All she has for her efforts is a sore elbow, a sweaty blouse that clings to her amazing shape and a rising sense of panic.

“I know you are in my study, Wonder Woman. My security cameras show me that you’ve suddenly acquired a new set of clothes. Since they do not look like my castoffs I suggest you listen to me very carefully. Your clothes may very well give away your identity at this point.”

Diana looks down with a grimace at her IADC uniform. He’s got a point. She is screwed!

“But here’s my deal, Amazon. I’ll give you a full 60 seconds to change back to your mighty true self. Longer than that and I broadcast my house feed straight to my Internet feed and the whole world knows your secret identity. You know I can document it with a video of when you changed earlier.”

“How do I know you already haven’t revealed that. Or that you won’t do it whenever you please.”

“It’s my ace in the hole, champ. I want your full cooperation in my little Internet presentation. I’m willing to bargain for that with your identity. You have 60 seconds from right now, Wonder Woman. For the moment, my site is showing reruns of some of your escapades earlier today between us. When you come out of the study, I will begin broadcasting live again. You will do everything I command you to do. You will not refer to me by name. You can, of course, use sir or master or some other non-identifying verbiage. I will put my phone app in voice command mode. If you don’t behave I will call out a code word and your little spinning switch gets broadcast worldwide. What do you say, champ? Do we have a deal?”

“I need to think...”

“Take your time, cherie. You have at least 38 seconds left.”

“I don’t trust you, Pascal. You are a liar and a cheat.”

“Not a lot of choice, Diana. Twenty-nine seconds, mon amie. I know it does not take you long to change but you had better account for the timing of it. I am a very precise man, as you know: a scientist with calipers and everything.”

“Damn you!” Wonder Woman’s fists are balled tight in frustration. She has no recourse. No options. With no belt, no weapons and no hope of countering him, she stands up from behind the desk as Diana Prince, her face morose, her shoulders slumped. She will have to leave the memory stick where it is under the Paris snow globe for now. She only hopes there will be a chance to retrieve it later. She doubts it will come.

“Twenty-two seconds, mon ami. The choice is yours.”

“Okay! Fine. Turn off the clock. I’ll do it.” She’s going to take the only option left to her if she wants to continue to fight for peace and justice in Man’s World.

“The clock stops only when you come out here with your arms spread wide and your head bowed, Wonder Woman. I would make it snappy if I were you. Fourteen seconds.”

Choking back a gulp and a surge of tears, Diana spreads her arms wide and quickly turns in a tight circle. A blinding light and the popping sound of air being sucked into a quickly closed hole fills the study for a mere second. And suddenly there’s the stunning sight of a statuesque raven-haired beauty spinning in place with an orange skirt flared straight out and her bald pussy showing as it winks in the light. The entire event is captured by the security system in its files for future reference if necessary.

A blinking Pascal looks at his phone screen as it and he recover from the flash of light. He checks the time on the phone and quickly takes the camera off his belt. Pressing the app link, he focuses on the doorway to the study just as Wonder Woman steps out. The feed to the website is now live from his handheld as she crosses to him, her arms wide, her full breasts marvelously displayed, the silky orange skirt accenting the beauty of her lower curves nicely even as her head is hung in complete mortification.

“A full three seconds to spare, cherie,” Pascal says with a smirk. “Now lift your head and smile at the camera for your thousands of admirers. Oh, and say, ‘Hello world, I am the real Wonder Woman,’ with a nice wave at the camera.”

The famous Amazon does lift her head but there’s no smile and no waving greeting. There is only cold fierce anger in the arctic blue eyes directed at the lens that has more than a few viewers’ heads rearing back from their monitors in alarm.

“Do it, bitch. NOW!!!” Pascal barks. “Or you know what happens.”

“Hello World!”

“Smile, cunt!”

The pasty weak grimace on Wonder Woman’s face would scare small children and the sudden callous wave would have them flinching as well.

“I am the real Wonder Woman,” murmurs the six-foot beauty.

“If you are going to take direction this badly, Wonder Woman, you will leave me no choice but to tell these people...”

“Hello World!” Wonder Woman’s face lights up brighter and the wave is as genuine as the miserable beauty can make it. “I am the real Wonder Woman. Believe me, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Are you doing this of your own free will, Wonder Woman?”

“Of course not, I am being coerced.”

“But you are making a choice here to obey me, yes?”

“Yes. But only because...”

“...because I hold all the cards. That’s enough talk for now. Walk over to the wall there and put your palms against it.”

Wonder Woman obeys and Pascal backs up to the railing overlooking the first floor foyer. He then focuses on the silky orange skirt covering the shapely rear of the Amazon.

“Spread your arms wider, cherie, say, about three feet wide, please.”

After she does so, Pascal steps forward with the camera in hand and captures the view of his left hand caressing Wonder Woman’s ass, squeezing the fabric and the cheek firmly as the mute heroine simply allows it to happen. Her thigh muscles twitch but that is all.

“Excellent, cherie. You will not resist anything I do, yes?”

“Yes, I will not resist, you pathetic excuse for a human.”

“As long as we understand each other, Wonder Woman, that is all that I or your audience is concerned with. I am now going to finger fuck you.”

“Of course you are. Your penis is probably no larger. I will not know the difference.”

“We both know that is not the truth, cherie. In any case, stay as you are and accept what I do without resistance, oui?”

“Yes, Pas...UUNNGHH!” Wonder Woman grunts as the kidney punch steals all her breath away.

“I remind you of the use of proper names. It would be bad for both of us, bitch. Now spread your legs a little wider.”

The moment she does, Pascal slides his left hand under her skirt rubs his finger against her slit. Her hips shiver slightly within the skirt but that is all.

“Oh, dear me. Dry as a preacher’s liquor cabinet down there. Let me caress you to help you get in the mood, my prize.”

“There’s not enough liquor on the planet, toad,” Wonder Woman says to the wall, her arms spread wide, her head up, defiant.

“We shall see, hero.” Pulling his hand out from under the skirt, Pascal spits on his two forefingers and replaces them under the skirt, rapidly rubbing his saliva in the folds of her inner labia and then caressing his fingers up and under the hood of her hidden clit. He rubs the tiny nub vigorously and Wonder Woman’s ass shakes at this intrusion even as she gives the tiniest puff of exasperation.

After a minute of manual manipulation, the Amazon still remains unmoved sexually, with only the spit from the earlier application providing any lubrication.

“Okay, I grant you that you are a strong-willed beauty, cherie. Let me see how you stand up to this little toy.” Pulling a tiny device out of his suit jacket pocket, Pascal slips a thin latex cap over his middle finger, it is attached by two wires to a tiny blue cylinder the size of a roll of Lifesavers. “For the audience’s benefit I will explain. This handy device I am now turning on supplies vibration and lubrication via my fingertip. I will using it to excite your clit. You will enjoy it immensely, I suspect.”

“Is this still part of your grand experiment, miscreant, or are you now making things up as you go along?”

“Let us just say that I am still assessing your capacity for humiliation, Wonder Woman.”

With that, the Frenchman lifts up the back hem of the orange skirt and tucks it into the waistband then zooms in on his hand as it probes into her snatch and up into the apex of her lower lips. She feels the humming finger and the cool sensation of wet latex gliding over and around her clit and the heroine’s eyes go wide with surprise.

How can that feel so good so quickly?

Pressing her palms against the wall, Wonder Woman tries to push a hole through it as she grimaces against the feelings the magic finger is creating within her already.

“..tuh..tuh...toys...and t...tools....It’s all you little puh...pih..pipsqueaks have when it comes to puh..pleasing w...women. Not a.. ruh..ruh...real....m...man...uh..uh...a...among you...” She says with an angry but helpless stutter.

“You will change your tune about that soon enough, my pretty heroine.”

Pascal begins to rapidly finger fuck the Champion of All Women. The hand moves rapidly up and down as the penetrating fingers repeatedly slide in and out of the bald pussy presented to the camera. The hand becomes a blur of motion as the thick slapping noise of a now wet orifice being penetrated over and over fills the air.

“...h..hera....this....is not...fuh...fuh...f...fair....” The beautiful woman wriggles helplessly in place now. Her neck arches, her head shakes from side to side. The front of the skirt not tucked up into the waistband sways back and forth as the wide hips of the sexually-aroused heroine circle and grind despite herself. She can feel a tightness in her stomach building and she is horrified at just how rapidly her body has betrayed her. Shaking, the mighty heroine lets out a pitiful sob at being so easily bested.

“That feels too good to fight, doesn’t it Wonder Woman. You would be ready to cum soon, yes?”

“...wh...w..what’s....it to...yuh..you...puh..pi...pig...?...”

“It is all about the timing, my dear. That is my chief concern here. Be honest with me. You will be cumming on my hand soon, non?”

“..n...no...no...i....don’t...i...don’t....want to... I don’t!”

“Then you shall not for now. Because now is the moment when I must ask all the visitors to my website to make a choice,” Pascal says, pressing the app so the hallway’s ceiling camera now takes the live feed. He checks the figure in the tiny window in the lower half of the phone’s screen and continues. “My 43,000 visitors I will tell you, my dear, will now have to pay a modest fee of but $29.99 to continue to receive this live feed of your complete and utter debasement.”

Wonder Woman’s forehead and forearms now rest against the wall as she catches her breath and suddenly comprehends what the Frenchman has said.

“...you’re...selling this...me.........my...my...disgrace...?...”

“Of course. Why would you suppose otherwise, cherie? Things are hard all over. The price of vibrators is going higher than your libido. I must pay for all my traps, my chemicals, my cameras. It does not come cheap, cherie, I assure you.”

“You are filth.”

“Keep those palms on the wall, bitch. You know the drill. I am but one command cue away from your effectiveness as a heroine ending forever.”

Fuming, Wonder Woman does as she is told and tries to calm down from the intense sexual high she’d been driven to.

“So the choice is yours, dear visitors.” Pascal turns to face the hallway ceiling camera, gesturing at the nearly naked Amazon with her arms spread out against the wall beside him. “Pay the $29.99 via any major credit card or via PayPal and you can continue to enjoy the domination and ruination of this national treasure.” Pascal caresses the twitching cheek of the teeth-grinding beauty standing with her bare butt showing under the skirt hiked up and tucked into its own waistband.

“For those of you on a limited budget, you can opt for a choice of downloads of sequential photo sets for only $9.99 for two 20-picture sets from a variety of scenes recorded earlier today. A menu will appear shortly of the eight different sequences available. Should you not have the funds for even that I’m afraid then from this point on the website will simply display a still photo of Wonder Woman bound in iron that you enjoyed in the clip I presented earlier. The offer will last for the next six minutes and then it will be withdrawn. I hope you will choose to make the live feed purchase. It will be quite a value, I promise.”

Pascal presses a button on his phone app and the website cuts the live feed and now offers the menu of purchase choices under a banner showing a repeating sequence of a humbled Wonder Woman getting down on both knees with the lasso stretched between her and a tall figure whose face is heavily pixilated

“And we’re no longer live, Diana.”

“...i...i..so...so...hate you...Pascal.”

“I know, cherie. I understand and respect that. Say, how about a blow job? We have got six minutes of free time on our hands.”

A startled Wonder Woman turns her head to see a Pascal give her a lecherous wink and a wolfish smile. And she gulps. She has made a deal with the devil himself. And her very soul seems forfeit.

End of Part 30

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer part 30