Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 32

“Uh...Car 54. Where are you?”

Jimmy turns up the volume on the police radio mounted on Sal’s dashboard and picks up the hand microphone.

“Dispatch, we’re heading north on Wisconsin Avenue toward a suspect’s residence on a case.”

“Are you referring to a suspect in the superheroine case, 54?”

“That’s confirmed, Dispatch.” Jimmy answers.

“Since you are the primary on the superheroine case, the desk sergeant wanted you to know a development is in process concerning that case, 54. Chatter on the web has picked up notice of an event involving Wonder Woman on a fee-based website. Apparently being held prisoner and assaulted.”

“Fuck!” Sal shouts, pounding his palm on the steering wheel and getting a raised eyebrow from Jimmy. Fortunately he hadn’t thumbed the hand mike so Dispatch didn’t get the profanity. Dispatch issued fines for excessive profanity. Sal’s total was up to $212.00 already.

“Copy that.. We will now run hot with sirens and lights to location. How bad is it, Dispatch?”

“Sexual assault but there’s a question as to compliance, 54. She doesn’t appear to be bound but she’s feisty.”

Sal hits the siren and lights and floors the accelerator as he motions for Jimmy to key the mike. “What the hell does that mean, Carla,” he shouts over the noise.

“She’s mouthing off but not fighting back, Sal.”

The two detectives look at each other in confusion. “Roger that, Dispatch,” Jimmy answers. “We’re on it. Keep us notified about important developments. We’re 20 out from possible location. This may not be the same place as where the broadcast is being sourced. Do you have confirmation of the signal location.”

“Negative, 54. Sophisticated and bouncing. Attempts in progress to lock it down.”

“Copy that, Disp...”

“Fuck! This guy....he’s too fucking smart,” Sal swears.

“Uh...you’re live, 54. Logging an additional fine. Sorry, Sal. Regulations.”

“Eat me, Carla.”

“Negative, 54. Another fine, there too, Sal.”

Jimmy starts to put the microphone back in its holder to save his partner from himself when Dispatch asks, “Do you want us to send a nearer unit to the location, 54?”

Sal shakes his head vehemently as Jimmy keys the mike. “No, Carla,” the Italian cop declares as he swerves past a slow-moving bakery truck before taking the mike from Jimmy. “I don’t need some green kid getting his pecker shot off by a psychopath who can handle superheroines.”

“Copy that, 54. Possible additional fine attached to pecker.”

“Oh, come on, Carla! Hey, you just said it! You pay up, too, then!”

“Just breaking chops, 54. Will let you know if situation escalates.”

“Right, thanks, Carla....for breaking my ba....chops.”

“What was that, 54?”

“Nothing, Dispatch. Car 54 out.” Sal hands the microphone back to Jimmy and says, “That girl is going to cost me half my pension.”

“It’s your own fault, you foul-mouthed Guinea,” smirks Jimmy.

“Yeah, I know th.....OH SHIT!!” Sal tries to swerve in time but the speeding car hits the huge pothole anyway. The sound of an exploding tire and the screech of a tortured wheel on pavement matches the blare of the siren decibel for decibel. Sal slams on the brakes and is out of the car in an instant, dashing around to look at the front passenger side tire. It’s pancake flat. That’s at least another 10 minutes lost if he’s lucky, Sal thinks to himself, and goes back to pop the trunk release and get out the spare. Jimmy has turned off the siren but left the lights flashing as dusk falls on Washington, DC. and the streetlights flicker on.

“You still don’t want Carla to send a car to Pascal’s?”

“Nothing’s changed. It’s way too volatile, Jimmy. Until we get there, Wonder Woman will just have handle things as best she can.”

“I did not think that you would be able to handle all this fucking, Wonder Woman,” Pascal declares loudly so his microphones clearly capture his taunt, “and not release a cascade of cum down these smooth, sexy legs.” His left hand feathers down her thigh, caressing it slowly in a way that has the over-stimulated Amazon twitching despite herself. But at least the man has finally stopped humping her. “I truly am impressed, Amazon.”

Still flattened against the wall by Pascal who is invading her personal space as much as one person possibly can, Wonder Woman is, nevertheless, once more in control of her libido. Now that the continual friction has ceased, she can think and resist. She has won this round. True, his hot shaft continues to pulse within her pussy but she can deal with that level of sensation. She can even stand the tickling fingertips playing at her left knee and with her right nipple

“And kudos to you, too, uhm...speedy. I mean, you know, for...uhh..lasting as long as you did...uhm...screwing me,” the Amazon replies haltingly, not at all comfortable with the phrases she’s using but still trying for that false bravado. “I figured...you know...a super science nerd like you would have...uhm.. shot his load in his....tighty-whities...” Wonder Woman gives the lewdest kind of wink she can at the live camera but it simply looks like she’s got something in her eye. “You know...before you could take your penis out of your underpants. You...uhm... must have practiced for hours...with that hand of yours...right uh... spanky?”

Smirking and shaking his head at the heroine’s horribly backfiring effort to shame him, he almost chuckles as he replies, “No, I practiced on your friends, Wonder Woman. You know, those willing sluts not unlike yourself who threw their bodies at me and begged me to....”

“...let them live? But you didn’t did you, you vicious litt....AAIEEYAAHH!”

The agony of having her nipple crushed in his pinching fingertips stops Wonder Woman’s speech in mid-word.

“Ah, ah, ah. Let us keep things from getting too personal, bitch. We do not want our tongues to wag in ways they should not, eh? Because two can play at that game, n’est ce pas?”

The tears that drain out of Wonder Woman’s eyes are only partly from the pain of his fingers clamped on her flat nipples. Her promise to behave as demanded without giving away his name or too much information about him over the Internet broadcast still held. Her very ability to fight on in Man’s World as Wonder Woman hung in the balance. With her identity protected she could still do some good when this was all over. She sullenly nods in mute agreement to his own nodding head and his fingers release her nipples and blood flows slowly back to them.

“The only tongue wagging here will most likely be yours feathering hot and wet around the head of my cock, yes?”

Wonder Woman turns her head to look back at the face pressed close to her neck, but she says only, “Whatever you say, creep.”

“Wow, either she’s the world’s biggest wimp,” says Gary, who’s head is tilted as he watches the screen almost dumbstruck at what he’s seeing, “or he’s got something so big on her that she’s got to go along with him no matter what.”

“Such as...?” Roger asks.

“Who knows. Could be anything, dude. Justice League secrets. The location of Paradise Island. Maybe her secret identity. Whatever he’s got over her, it’s huge. See how fast she backed down?”

“He was squeezing her nip pretty hard,” Jake says.

“Like that’s what’s keeping her in line,” Jamal says, smacking Jake’s cap off his head in disgust. “The bitch probably gets hot from shit like that.”

“Some do,” Roger says, going into another one of his life lessons. “Pain can be a highly erotic jumping off point for some women.”

“I’ve got a jumping off place I’d like you to try, Rog. The Washington monument! Now shut the hell up, would ya? I’m missing their fuckin’ banter.”

Back at IADC headquarters, Wonder Woman’s sudden capitulation to this stranger abusing her in front of the world draws a scowl from Steve Trevor.

“I don’t get this at all. Why doesn’t Wonder Woman kick this guy around the room. He’s not that huge, she’s not tied up, she doesn’t even appear to be drugged. She’s acting like she’s lost all her nerve. This is not the Wonder Woman I know. It’s certainly not the woman I used to respect.”

“Oh, Steve. I think she’s being brave,” Etta counters. “She’s obviously protecting someone by acting this way. Maybe there’s a hostage....OH! Maybe even another superheroine that this man is holding in a cell somewhere so that Wonder Woman can’t save her in time. It could be anything. We both know that she would never allow such cold and cruel and...erotically charged ...uh.. things to be done to her...uhm...without her permission...” Etta wipes a film of sweat off her upper lip. “You know that, Steve.”

“I know that the things I’m seeing aren’t...ahh...the way real men act toward women. They respect them and...and treat them better and don’t...don’t force themselves on naked... beautiful bare-breasted woman...who...who can’t resist them...no matter what...no matter how much..they....uh...shake like that...”

“Right. Uh...real men don’t...don’t do that. Hardly ever,” Etta replies flatly, her eyes turning back to the scene, her tongue wetting her suddenly dry lips.

“Okay, cherie. I am going to back up nice and slow and let you go for a moment.” Pascal sounds like he’s trying to soothe a skittish horse. “I want you to slowly turn around after I do. No wait, better yet...remain there facing the wall. Stay!...staaaay...”

He backs off from her body slowly for three paces and then steps quickly over to his folded jacket on the carpet. After he takes the handheld camera out one of the pockets he steps back toward the Amazon beauty still standing with her hands flat against the wide white surface. Her head is lowered, her shoulder blades tensed and hunched. She looks miserable. He turns on the camera and pushes the app on his cell phone so the feed goes through the minicam. He’s focused on her face and slowly backs up as he talks.

“Okay, Princess, move away from the wall...good...nice and slow...look here sweetheart, into this camera I’m holding...Big smile for the folks. No, that is atrocious. I definitely can NOT work with that expression, Wonder Woman. You look like you are horribly constipated. Give me that proud, eye-twinkling heroine smile you give on the red carpet at the U.N. before addressing the world about the wonders of peace and all that crap. No, no, no. It still looks like you have to take a dump. Work with me here, cherie. Think happy thoughts, you know, puppies romping through daisies, a favorite friend, your Mom, your lovely island home, something that lights you up, n’est ce pas? And keep looking at the camera, cherie.”

Two fat tears roll out of Wonder Woman’s downcast blue eyes. Her lips tremble and then her hands go to her face and she lets out a heavy body-shaking sob. “No! I can’t. I CAN’T DO THIS!”

Pascal stops walking backward and trains the camera on the hands covering the Amazon’s face. “Well, that certainly was not what I was going for...but I can work with it.” He zooms in on her torment. Suddenly, the crying heroine swipes one arm outward to swat the offending cameraman and his tool away but he luckily ducks out of range.

“Get away from me with that thing, you bastard!” shrieks Wonder Woman. “Give me a moment. I nuh..need.. .i...need a..m..moment...”

“And I need you to squat down and spread your labia for me, and for you to cut the drama queen act, Princess. We are two professionals here. I won. You lost. Deal with it or I start sharing secrets with the world, cherie.”

Wonder Woman’s body goes rigid. Her hands stop shaking. Her shoulders come down. She pulls her hands away from her face and she tilts her head to the side, looking at the camera lens like it’s some strange bug. And then she starts to talk.

“Oh, I see now. You want me to completely debase myself for your audience. Really give them a good show. All those fans of mine out there who’ve been so supportive over the years. Everyone who strives for the peace and all that crap I keep talking about. Of course, they never lift a finger to actually do anything genuine. Never anything that takes any effort. Just let Wonder Woman do all the work. She can handle it. She’s a super powered Amazon!” The manic beauty spreads her arms wide and her breasts wobble in view of the lens trained on her.

“Man, she is losing it, big time!” Gary points at the screen in amazement.

“Some kind of psychological disassociation or something, I’d say,” Roger adds.

“Or the bitch is straight up crazy,” Jamal offers.

“I just like looking at those hooters,” Jake says with a sigh.

“Oh my,” Etta frowns, “he pushed her too hard. Look at her eyes!”

“Pupils dilated. She’s manic,” Steve nods somberly.

“Okay, you want to see my crotch, people, fine. Why not?” Wonder Woman spits the words. “Let’s lose the skirt though, right? Don’t want anything impeding the view. Famous Amazon bush. Can’t obscure that! Oh, wait, sorry, no can do. Got shaved. Sorry, guys. Blame the director. Guess you’ll have to live with bald pussy.”

The enraged beauty puts her hands on the waistband of the skirt and starts to push it down. Pascal isn’t saying a thing. Just focusing the camera and thanking heaven for this gift.

Wriggling her hips, Wonder Woman slowly pushes the garment down her thighs, performing a strip tease for the lens. She circles and bends and shows a flash of lovely rump before turning around and letting the skirt drop down her calves to a heap of orange around her ankles. With a capricious kick, she sends the skirt flying right past the camera lens onto Pascal’s shoulder. He brushes it off, and the view shifts to a worthless closeup of the carpet for a second.

“Hey! Up here, buddy,” she says pointedly and when Pascal pans up, Wonder Woman is supporting the undersides of her boobs in both hands . She shakes her upper torso like a coochi-coochi girl. “Here’s what you want. My famous huge hooters bouncing like party balloons, yes?”

“YES!!!” The quartet in the adult bookstore cheers its approval.

“NO!” Etta wails. “This is bad. This is so bad. I can’t watch.”

“Jeezus!!” Steve grabs the phone on the first try and punches out the extension for Global Screening. “Miller! Tell me you’ve got something. Some location on this signal. We’ve got to do something. The poor woman is losing it!”

“I wish I could say we have it, Major, but he’s good. We’re closer but...no. I can’t pin it down. I’ll ring back the second I do.”

“So, with the skirt out of the way, guess you’ll be wanting to zoom in on my beaver now, right?” Wonder Woman declares this with her hands on her hips striking her famous heroic pose stark naked for the world. “So what, a full squat? Will that do it for you, people? You perverts out there who’ve paid to see this, is this pink enough?”

Wonder Woman does her squat and spreads her labia apart with two fingers right at the camera lens. Pascal captures the shocking moment in crystal clear digital detail. The pink undersides of her labia are peeled apart, the feminine knuckles spreading herself open on both sides, the fingers motionless as the Amazon simply holds her position for several seconds before speaking.

"Got your tongues on your tv screens, you worthless scum?"

“Good lord!” Steve’s jaw drops like its hinge broke. His widened eyes are glued to the monitor screen.

Etta Candy takes a step back and blanches. “That poor girl. That’s..that’s tragic.”

“That’s fuckin’ amazing!!!” Gary is tilting his head first to one side than the other, appraising the view of a 54"-wide Amazon snatch.

“Gotta love Hi Def,” Roger says with a smile.

Loathe to interrupt but taking the risk, Pascal says, “Would you please turn around now and show us your butthole, cherie?”

“My ass? You want to shoot a picture of my little old ass, Mr. Demille?” Wonder Woman bats her lashes at the camera and puts her finger to her puckered lips. “Why I’m both shocked and honored. By all means, let’s do this right.”

Twirling around, Wonder Woman grabs her cheeks and spreads them wide, revealing her tightly-puckered anus to the camera in a pose worthy of IMAX.

“Getting all you need, people?” The famed beauty’s face, upside down, pokes out from between her legs. “Now don’t forget to give to Unicef and fight world hunger and keep the planet green and follow through on all that bs that none of you do!!”

“Would you look at what’s she’s doin’!” Jamal calls out. “Like I said, that white chick’s butter done slipped off her noodles.”

“Bonkers with a capital B,” says Jake.

“I’d love to bonk that,” Roger snaps back pointing at the giant pink rectum.

“That is excellent, cherie,” Pascal beams from behind the minicam. “We’ve got the shot, you may release your cheeks.”

“You sure? Seems pretty fast,” the heroine says, her long black hair trailing onto the floor as she continues to speak from between her legs, still spreading her cheeks apart. “There must be people out there who aren’t done masturbating. Guys, girls? What do you say, need another minute of Wonder Ass?”

Suddenly, the lithe beauty stops, spins and drops to her knees, once more holding her boobs from underneath and shaking them hard. “Oh I almost forgot. My nips!” She begins to squeeze and tease them for the camera. “I’m sorry people that there’s no tight shirt for them to poke at suggestively. To show my arousal and all. Guess I better work them up a bit to give you chicken chokers and carpet cleaners a better look, huh?”

Pascal simply stands there and keeps the focus, training the camera on a medium shot of Wonder Woman working both her nipples between her fingers, rolling them until they grow fat and prominent against the large areola.

“How’s that?” The huge smile that the Champion of All Women gives is stretching her face to impossible lengths. Crazy comes through loud and clear.

“Please, Steve, please,” Etta weeps. “Turn it off for heaven’s sake. For her sake.”

“I can’t do that. She needs us,” Steve gestures futilely at the monitor. “If there’s any way to help. Any clue. Or even after the fact, to know what she did so we can counsel her and know what to say, how to say it... I can’t Etta.”

“There, nice big nips! Is everybody happy?” Wonder Woman says this like some MC at a New Year’s eve party.

“WE ARE!” The quartet at Heavenly Desires Emporium all raise their thumbs in unison.

“I know I am,” Pascal says.

“Oh my, no,” Etta moans out. “I’m not, you poor thing. And neither are you.”

Steve, a bit glassy-eyed from watching Wonder Woman work her nipples to perfection, just stares at the screen and mumbles, “...yes...uh...no....I don’t know.”

Etta gives him a glare that would melt tungsten.

“I think that now is the time we move on to the fucking, cherie. You have shown yourself to be quite the accomplished exhibitionist. I appreciate it and I know your fans do. Fantastique! Now please show how well you play the whore. Get off your knees now and go there. Put your back against the wall and I will fuck you, yes?”

“Hmm? What was that?” Wonder Woman shakes her head as if to clear it from some high-pitched tone.

“Time for your fucking I said, champ. Back to the wall now. Be a good girl.”

“...good girl..” Wonder Woman mutters. “You want me to be a good girl?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Pascal says, humoring her. He presses the app to switch the view on the website to the side camera and walks up to the heroine and takes her elbow to guide her. “Right over here, mon ami.”

“...told you...wsntyrfrnd...” she mumbles.

“Pardon moi? I did not hear that.”

Wonder Woman’s knuckles come out of nowhere and smash hard into Pascal’s nose, sending a spray of blood off to the side and the tall Frenchman reeling back and falling on his coccyx.


Etta Candy screams out hugely, “YES!!! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! I heard that! Oh, that was GREAT!!!”

Steve bolts out of his chair, unable to contain himself, his fist punching the air. “THERE SHE IS! THAT’S MY GIRL!”

His head rolling on his neck like some bobble-head doll, a stunned Pascal starts to speak. “Now you’ll be sor....UUUNGGHH!”

One jolting side kick from the Amazon’s bare foot to the man’s temple knocks it against the carpeted floor with such force that it thumps like a bass drum on speakers across the globe. Pascal goes quiet, his eyes glassy as he lies there on his side in a daze.

“Whoops,” Gary says, shaking his head. “It looks like this transmission might be interrupted due to technical difficulties.”

“Shit, man,” Jamal sulks.

“That’s the way the cranium bounces,” Roger says weakly.

“Ah, hell. It was just getting good,” Jake pouts.

“I should thank you, Rene Pascal,” the venomous heroine says to the barely-conscious man lying before her, “for showing me just now that I had nothing left to protect. You used up all your credit, you pathetic loser. I went so low there that...that you had nothing to hold over me. And now you’re done, mon fucking ami!”

With a brutal stomp, Wonder Woman slams her foot down between the Frenchman’s legs. She doesn’t get quite the clean hit she wanted with him on his side but still he curls up into a wailing ball and pukes all over the carpet. Then he proceeds to moan loudly while the Princess of Theymiscira stands over him in her heroic pose, not caring at all for now about her nakedness, her shaved pussy or her lost costume and weapons. She had come through hell and survived. She was stronger than him. She was a champion and she felt proud.

Striding past the huddled lump of Pascal, she reaches down and picks up his suit jacket and shrugs it on. It hangs loosely over her shoulders but it covers her mid-thigh at least. She does all three buttons which still leaves an ample view of her cleavage but compared to what she’d been showing up to now.... She freezes in place, suddenly remembering everything she’d been showing. It comes flooding back to her in a flash. Sick to her core, she bends over and vomits on the rug only feet from where Pascal had. She stands there doubled over with her hands on her knees and gags and wheezes and sniffles and upchucks once more. The act going for a full minute before Wonder Woman regains herself. Then, angrily she suddenly lifts up her head and walks over to Pascal. She bends down to the moaning man and rips off one of his shoes. She then marches across to the camera that’s live in the corner of the ceiling and looks straight at the lens.

“Show’s over, you miserable losers, time to zip up and continue on with your worthless lives.” The last view is her curled lip as she smashes the camera to smithereens with the shoe, then drops it on the floor with a hard nod of satisfaction.

Jimmy has just finished wiping his brow with a handkerchief, the new tire mounted on the axle and ready to roll, when he hears the radio crackle inside the car. “I’ll get that,” says Sal, who’s been supervising the entire messy procedure with obvious pointers every other minute.

“This is 54, what’s up, Carla?” “I’m not sure how far out you are from your suspect’s location, 54, but it seems the possible victim has handled the situation.

“Say again, dispatch?” Sal is shocked.

“No need to rush, Sal. Your heroine friend, Wonder Woman came through again. As usual.

“Never had any doubts,” Sal replies. “That haughty bitch is indestructible,” he says with a smile he can’t hide. “Still 20 out, Dispatch. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Still 20 out, 54. No progress in 15 minutes? Do you request assistance?”

“No...no thanks, Dispatch. We’re good. Just...well, we’re good.”

“Drinks after shift, Sal? I gotta hear this one.”

“Roger, Dispatch. I’ll buy.”

“If the story’s as good as I expect, I’ll buy, 54.”

“It’s a deal, Carla,” Sal answers as Jimmy gets in the passenger side wiping his hands together with a scowl. “We’re rolling again, Dispatch. Out.”

“Did I hear that Wonder Woman took care of the suspect?” Jimmy takes a napkin from the glove compartment, spits on his hands and wipes them.

“You heard right.”

“Hmmm. I guess she was just taking his measure before she laid him out.”

“Guess so,” Sal answers. “They don’t call them Superheroines for nothin’.”

Gary and his customers are watching the blank blue screen of the website with forlorn expressions on all their faces.

“I guess that’s all for that show,” Roger mutters.

“Dammit,” curses Gary with a thump to the checkout table, right on the crack that Wonder Woman had left not so long ago, “I paid $29.99 for that feed. Feels to me like I only got $18.75's worth of Wonder Woman porn!”

Everyone else just looks over at him with a scoff. That’s so Gary.

But when the site suddenly switches back to the offer of photo sets, the group starts pestering the clerk to bring up the sets they want to review for purchase. They get very boisterous in their eagerness.

Wonder Woman stands over the moaning six-foot bearded Frenchman with her hands on her hips trying to figure out her next move. She couldn’t be sure that some camera somewhere wasn’t still trained on her so she didn’t want to take the chance and twirl back into her Diana Prince identity: certainly not after all that she’d paid in emotional ransom to protect that secret. She knew she probably had to find the heart of the surveillance system and destroy all the recordings. That would require a search of the house. She still had to retrieve the memory stick as evidence, though she suspected it would not be crucial at this point. Destiny’s skirt was pretty damning evidence.

Considering that, she walks over to where the skirt was tossed by Pascal and shimmies her hips as she steps into it and pulls it up. As long as she kept away from high kicks, she’d be decent enough if Detective Abato arrived while she was searching the place.

“I guess I’d better truss this clown up. I wonder where he hid my lasso. Might be down in his lab.” Wonder Woman shivers at the very idea of having to go back down there and its table with the sweaty leather pad and shackles. She looks down at Pascal with pure scorn and kicks him in the lower back.

Or expects to. With his left arm, he grabs her ankle when he sees her foot come at him. He stops its arc and twists with all his might and Wonder Woman goes down hard with a squeal of pain. They grapple hard. Pascal’s hand is crushing her crotch in his palm, Wonder Woman is yanking his ear as they roll around on the carpet. Pascal’s weight advantage counters the Amazon’s prowess just enough.

And with her ankle smarting, the Frenchman is able to knee her in her tits and distract her long get his hand in the jacket’s side pocket. She tries to knee his balls but his thighs are clamped tight as he rolls away from her. When she scrambles to her knees and dives after him, he turns his body in time to aim his forearm at her face looming toward him. He doesn’t know how she does it but she is able to lower her head enough to take the forearm to the crown of her skull and bull rush him onto his back. She kneels over him, panting. He grabs for the lapels on the jacket she’s wearing and she lifts her leg to once more stomp on the family jewels. Seeing a flash of pink pussy just in time, he drops his arms, clings onto her knee and twists her so she’s forced to follow him around. She lands on her thigh and quickly pulls out of his grip with a hard yank. His arm lashes out, trying to grab her ankle yet again, she thinks. A bad maneuver to try the same move in a fight so she smiles at her next easy move, but then his arm doesn’t quite aim for the ankle as she thought, it goes higher to her calf. And then she feels the sting. She pulls her leg back even as Pascal releases her calf.

“What the hell...” Wonder Woman stands up and faces Pascal as he also clambers quickly to his feet. Then she looks down and sees a spot of blood on her calf where the sting had occurred.

“Once again, I’ve out-thought you, you dumb bitch. What is that, 15 times today? More?”

“It takes more than a little scratch to...to....put...me out...of...of...commish...” Wonder Woman’s legs collapse under her and she falls onto her hands and knees.

“Yes, more than a scratch. It takes curare, cherie. Not too much. Just enough to render you completely immobile.”

“NO! No...i...i...had you. ..i...had...you...” Helpless to stop it, Wonder Woman falls flat on face unable to move. Her thoughts are clear, her eyes stare into the carpet. Her body is not her own.

“Not like I am going to have you, mon fucking ami.”

Leaning down, Pascal grips the shoulders of his suit jacket and turns the limp beauty over onto her back. Her wide hair frames her face. Her blue eyes stare up at his. Hers are wide and frightened. His are piggy and mean. And hers can do nothing at all but watch him snarl he stomps down on the left hand that had flailed out to the side. She can’t see it when the sole of the one shoe he has on stomps down on her forearm. She can only feel the pain. And howl with it.

End of Part 32