Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 34

The phone rings on Steve Trevor’s desk as he watches Wonder Woman’s limp body sag in the outstretched arms of the man who so thoroughly violated her for the past 10 minutes. They are still coupled together at the hips even as her conqueror lays her upper torso onto the plush carpet.

“Trevor here,” growls Steve as he grips the phone, still watching the monitor.

“WE HAVE IT, MAJOR!” Sergeant Miller is shouting on the other end, ecstatic with his team’s accomplishment. “We have zeroed in on the location of the transmission of the WW Screwed website, sir.”

Snatching up a pen, Steve barks out, “Don’t keep it a secret, Sergeant! Give me the address.”

“Sorry, sir. It’s 11312 Rockville Pike, North Bethesda, Maryland.”

“You’re absolutely sure about this, Sergeant?”

“We cleaned up the back filters and separated out the tangential flux between the...”

“Is that a yes, Miller?” Steve interrupts.

“That’s a yes, Major. The broadcast is definitely originating from that location.”

“Okay, I’ll give this to the police. I believe two detectives are headed there now. Good work, Miller. Thank your team for me.”

“Yessir. Wonder Woman’s not looking very good, sir. I hope those cops get there soon.”

Eyeing the screen with a frown, Steve watches the man sitting cross-legged on the carpet, hunched over Wonder Woman’s limp form, pulling his dick out of the famous heroine’s pussy. His hands move from her lower back to her ass as the Amazon’s upper body slides like a limp fillet out of his arms. Slowly slithering in smooth circles over the wide buttocks, his palms then reach into the long dark crack and separate her cheeks. With her back flat against the carpet, the beauty’s shapely legs sprawl over his forearms in flaccid helplessness as a thin white stream of his spunk flows out from between Wonder Woman’s thighs. He holds her there for a moment, letting her drain as her closed eyelids flutter and a sigh eases out of her quivering mouth.

“Me too, Miller. Call me if there’s anything else.”

When the overhead camera shows that only slow drips are left to drain from the heroine’s naked twat, the sitting man is shown taking Wonder Woman’s ankles in his palms. He lets the beauty’s legs drop to the carpet on either side of his hips with a simultaneous thump. He then replaces his member back into his pants and zips up.

“Goodness! So much...jizz...” Etta murmurs with wonder, unaware she’s even speaking out loud. “..so...potent...”

“What?” Steve says, captivated by the view of this devastated champion lying slack on the floor, her body offering up the slowly-dripping fluids of the man who is now leaning back on his haunches with a satisfied sigh.

“...uh...what..?” Etta simply replies as she squeezes Steve’s shoulder and sighs herself.

Well, that was absolutely fantastique, cherie!” Pascal rests in place, cross-legged still with his arms stretched out behind him, palms down against the thick carpet, still relaxing several minutes after his victory fuck. “Truly a moment of pure splendor that I shall savor in my memory and in frequent video replays for years to come.”

Wonder Woman doesn’t even attempt to open her eyes. With the curare incapacitating her, she certainly can’t speak, or move, or do anything but breathe heavily after her orgasm. All she can do for the moment is feel the now infrequent drips of his seed seeping from her loins. She disgustedly shivers in an autonomic reaction that Pascal takes as pleasure.

“Ahh, I see you still quiver in your delight at my impaling of your easily available cunt, mon ami. But it is I who should give thanks to you, for you are a magnificent specimen of your gender, Wonder Woman. Such a joy to violate and debase.”

The mighty Themysciran Princess can only blink away a welling watery surge in reaction to his taunt.

“But,” Pascal goes on, “I think perhaps our viewers would appreciate just the most subtle of reminders as to who it is I am humiliating here, non? I mean, they have seen you fight me and fail in the videos and photo sets on this website but all they see at this moment is some dark-haired limp-limbed fuck toy with a bald pussy leaking cum on my expensive carpet. Right now, you simply look like any common whore who has been used and left dripping, a sex-stupefied skank lying in some alley with a damp five-dollar bill clinging to her semen-coated belly. We simply cannot have that, precious. Even if that is your appropriate station in life, you probably should not look the part. After all, you have a public watching you who deserves better for their money.”

“No we don’t! We really don’t!” Roger is calling out to the television screen at Heavenly Delights.

“She looks great from here,” Jake adds.

“Bitch looks like she’s found her calling to me,” Jamal says.

“Anyway,” Pascal continues, “that is why I have brought two objects up to this level with me to reestablish your famous heritage and glory in their minds for them.”

Unfolding himself, Pascal stands up and strides into the room at the opposite end of the hall from his study. He bends down and picks up a blue object and a gold one and holds them up in one hand to the camera positioned directly over Wonder Woman’s prone figure. He takes out his cell phone from his pants pocket and keys in the app once more, shifting the camera to focus on a medium shot of him.

“Here are the sad remnants of your fame, hero. A replica pair of your famous blue panties with their white stars and your actual girdle of power, your wondrous belt from which once stemmed your super strength.”

Wonder Woman’s eyes open at this statement and unable to move her neck, she can just see from her vantage point the objects he waves at the camera. Her slack mouth opens slightly and her lower lip shakes at the view.

“Sadly, my dear, your actual pair of costume panties are nothing better than a meaningless scrap of fabric in a corner downstairs that I would not even trust as a dust rag. Well, I say ‘sadly’ but since I was the one who ruined them so completely before ripping them off your body, you know I do not actually mean that, cherie.”

Pascal gives the camera a wink and Etta growls low in her throat when he does.

“And as for your belt, well, that is so scarred and bent and ruined that I sincerely doubt it would provide you enough energy to help you sit up and fart at this point, Wonder Woman.”

With the curare completely immobilizing her, the Amazon warrior can only watch Pascal as he walks over to her and kneels down beside her. He lifts her left calf and slides the phony panties onto one leg and then repeats the action with her right calf. He swiftly tugs the panties up her long legs and onto her limp, heavy thighs. There is a brief struggle with her dead weight and the distraction of her left tit smacking into his forehead before Pascal finally manages to fit the tight blue panties over her generous hips and her wide ass. A final snap back of the tortured elastic waistband against her skin concludes the coverage of Wonder Woman’s crotch.

“There goes heaven, fellas,” says Gary with a pout, but then brightens up again, “but the guy’s right, it’s a nice reminder who this arrogant bitch is that he’s fucking with.”

“I’m going to miss that Amazon’s gash,” Jake sulks.

“Oh, it’ll probably come back for a return engagement,” Roger says, “if this guy’s as nasty as I think he is. He hasn’t steered us wrong yet.”

With the panties being at least one size too small, the slight paunch of even Wonder Woman’s sculpted abs sag a bit over the clinging waistband. Pascal arranges the crotch of the panties with a quick swipe of two fingers, moving them inside the panties and pulling out the wrinkles so the fabric rests smoothly and neatly against her hairless cunt. Pulling his fingers out of the panties, the Frenchman then dimples them with his forefinger, creating an obvious camel toe within the white star emblazoned there. Then, getting into the moment, Pascal rubs the crease up and down rapidly with firm pressure, deepening the camel toe so the ridges are now quite pronounced. He does this repeatedly, drawing his firm forefinger up and down the heavenly cleft, slowly and then faster. Finally, he meticulously traces his fingers all around the miniature hills and valleys of her clearly defined snatch in the laziest most sensuous lingering caress he can manage. Wonder Woman’s growing moistness turns the white star gray, a spreading dampness that gives the silky fabric a dewy sheen. Finally the satisfied Frenchman gently pats the white star at her crotch three times.

“Comfy?” He asks with a grin. Wonder Woman can’t help but let out a soft groan.

Etta crosses her legs and squeezes her thighs together tightly, struggling not to groan herself. She licks her suddenly dry lips and blinks at the monitor. Steve surreptitiously adjusts himself below the desk.

“Wow! That got her wet fast!” Roger calls out, pointing at the screen and the closeup of Wonder Woman’s crotch from the overhead camera. “Did you see that cunt juice up! Man!” “One Amazon pussy, hot and ready,” announces Gary. “Serves four. Do NOT allow to cool!”

“Man, you can see everything but it’s even sexier ‘cuz she’s wearing panties,” Jake declares.

“Don’t know how she can live this shit down,” Jamal adds. “The bitch is toast! Buttered, greasy toast!”

Knowing he won’t be getting answers from the helplessly mute heroine, the smiling Frenchman reaches over and takes up her famous belt. He puts the belt down on the carpet and then roughly turns the limp form over onto on its belly, sending her arm flailing and her wrist thumping against the carpet. Concentrating, Pascal fixes the small catch in the belt behind her back. That done, he rolls her body roll over again onto her back. The hideously misshapen belt is a tangle of inflexible gold threads, loose strands widely separated that curve and flex in all directions. Some places it molds tightly to her abdomen while at others it’s raised away from it in awkward kinks and bent angles.

“That belt certainly does not look to be as comfortable as it once was, cherie, but we must make sacrifices for the show, yes? Well, you must, anyway!” Pascal chuckles at his own joke while the famous heroine lies spread out before him, her precious snatch covered and her ruined belt wrapped around her. Still her naked tits are boldly displayed and the mighty Wonder Woman is incapable of moving at all. The belt gives her virtually nothing. All she gets is an involuntary spasm from it that lifts her hips and ass in the air before thumping back down to the carpet.

“Perhaps I was wrong. It seems like your belt can help you cherie. Well, to fart anyway!”

Wonder Woman’s eyes now glare at Pascal but that’s all she can do. As he looks back at her with nothing but amusement, the glare dissolves into a resigned acceptance and her eyes shift up to the ceiling.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Pascal blurts out and gets to his feet. He walks a few short strides over to his folded jacket and pulls something out of one of the side pockets. He turns and walks back toward the prostrated beauty whose eyes now track him with interest. They go wide with alarm as she sees what dangles from his outstretched arm.

“Your own Wonder Woman ball gag. I decorated it just for you, cherie!”

A red leather strap connected with stainless steel rings and buckles and a tri-colored ball hang in the air before the anguished Amazon. She had been forced to wear a gag like this on more than a few occasions and absolutely hated it. It was so demeaning in so many ways: the muzzling of her vocal freedom, the inevitable jaw-straining discomfort, the debasement of women that it represented and almost worst of all the endless inescapable drooling. Wonder Woman’s eyes go even wider. She realizes the curare might impair her ability to swallow. Lying on her back she could drown in her own saliva!

Dull grunts and moans issue from the flaccid heroine lying in panicked horror on the carpet as Pascal draws closer to her and kneels down beside her. All it takes is two fingers at a key pressure point on her jaw and her mouth easily gapes open He pushes the gaily painted rubber ball in her mouth and proceeds to buckle it behind her head. Pulling on the strap to ensure it’s properly secured, Pascal smiles at the female lying beside him. The distinctive coloring of the gag is a nice touch. It’s red leather straps give her a marvelously whorish look and the ball with its bright red sides, wide blue center stripe and a white star facing out provide the ultimate sarcastic trademark signifying the famous heroine’s complete and total disgrace.

He’s rendered the alleged Champion of All Women completely defenseless with curare that impairs virtually all movement. He’s stripped her naked except for an overly-tight pair of cheap Wonder Woman costume panties he’s already made her dampen with helpless pleasure. He’s even replaced her completely ruined power belt for an extra helping of shame. The ball gag he’s fitted her with completes her humiliation perfectly. And now Pascal has the distinct pleasure at hand of fucking her famously huge hooters. Pascal feels like the King of the World.

Sal and Jimmy are 10 minutes out from Pascal’s home address when Sal’s cell phone rings. He looks down and sees it’s Major Trevor of IADC contacting him.

“Hello, Major Trevor. I am on the way to Rene Pascal’s residence now. We’re 10 minutes out.”

“Abato, listen, we’re on borrowed time here. IADC has located the source of the transmission. It’s coming from North Bethesda. Let me give you the address.”

“Is it a Rockville Pike address, Major?” Sal motions to Jimmy who’s flipping through his notebook.”

“YES!” Trevor is thrilled they are so near. “It’s 11312 Rockville Pike, North Bethesda.”

“Doesn’t he mean 11313,” Jimmy says. “That’s where we just searched this afternoon. Did the bastard circle around and go back there somehow?”

“We searched that address earlier today, Major, but the number was 11313. It came up empty. Can you guys pinpoint a broadcast signal that accurately?”

“I’ll get back to you in a moment to confirm, Detective.”

“This guy doesn’t know dick,” scoffs Sal. “He’ll call me back with an answer from someone who knows what they’re talking about. Makes you wonder about the status of this country’s security if guys like him are at the helm.” Sal drives down Wisconsin for one more block before shaking his head and pulling over.

“Why are you stopping?”

“Bethesda’s north of us at this point. We’re heading to his home address. I don’t want to lose ten minutes going in the wrong direction. We’ll wait for his callback. It’s no rush anyway. Wonder Woman’s got the guy on ice according to Dispatch.”

“True,” Jimmy nods. “No rush.”

Kneeling beside her and looking down at the helplessly laid out Wonder Woman wearing her fake panties, her ruined belt and her mouth spread wide and drooling around the humiliating ball gag, Pascal is delighted at how well his plan is proceeding. Everything is back on schedule. Although he’s not sure when the cops will show up in their pathetic attempt to rescue this Amazon slut, he’s confident the surprise he has in store for them will remove them from the equation and let him move to the final stage of his grand experiment: proving it was possible to reduce the powerful Champion of All Women to a defenseless female victim capable of being strangled to death and sodomized. The revenge factor involving his sister might have been taken off the table but the science of the experiment was still quite worthy of his genius.

The confident Frenchman stands up, quickly undoes his belt, drops his pants and his boxers and steps out of them. He casually bends down to pick them up, neatly fold them and then lay them off to the side. He then straddles her body and sits down on Wonder Woman’s belly, forcing a grunt from the prone beauty. The warmth of his naked ass presses down on the heroine’s bare and sweaty abs, making her breathing just a bit more difficult. The head of his cock rests against the bottom of the Amazon’s breasts and the beaming scientist’s eyes gleam as he addresses his helpless captive pinned beneath him.

“Well, here we are, Wonder Woman. Just you and me and your famously huge tits. They look so inviting, cherie: so naked, so pliant...” Pascal takes hold of both breasts in his spread palms, gripping them from the rounded undersides. He gives them a firm squeeze and a shake and the large tits sway and wobble side to side in his grasp. The helpless Amazon keeps her eyes shut but thin trickling tears slide out and run down her temples.

“You see, mon ami, you make my cock hard just by letting me rest its tip against the warmth of these delightful fun bags. But let me do more...” He lets go of one breast and takes his dick in his hand and slowly begins to rub its mushroom-shaped head along the inner edges of Wonder Woman’s tightly gripped left tit. First he caresses the left with his penis, drawing it up and down several times against the smooth inside curve of the breast. And then he takes hold of the right tit and teases the flesh on the inside curve of that one. The smoothly constant rubbing warmth of skin on skin stiffens Pascal’s cock even more in his palm and sends a sparkle of pleasure through Wonder Woman’s breasts as well.

Concentrating on her tits so intently, Pascal is only alerted to Wonder Woman’s distress by a sudden choked gurgling from the back of her throat. He looks up to see her eyes bulging, her mouth spastically flexing around the ball stuffed in her mouth, and drool running down the sides of her face.

“Dear me, are you gagging on all your saliva, cherie? Here, let me fix that for you, Wonder Woman.” He gives her face a sudden hard open hand bitch slap that knocks her head to the left with a vicious jolt. The air rings with the sound of smacking flesh even as the heroine’s cheek blooms with a flush of red. “Better?”

Stunned by the shocking blow, the mighty Amazon is, nevertheless, blearily thankful for it when the drool begins to pool under her left cheek and she can breathe again.

Back at IADC headquarters, Etta flinches at the sound of the slap from the tiny speaker on the desk. Her right hand fists in anger while her left squeezes relentlessly on Steve’s shoulder.

“Ow! Etta, ease up. Wonder Woman has endured much worse than a slap to the face.”

“It’s just...I’ve never seen her take something like that. She’s just so helpless, Steve.”

He shakes his head as he watches the drool puddle beneath Wonder Woman’s cheek as her glazed eyes blink stupidly. “You’re not wrong.”

Getting back to his fun, Pascal murmurs softly to his captive as he palms her hefty breasts. “I am sorry, mon ami, but I simply cannot resist these any longer.” The bright-eyed villain leans down close to the Amazon’s face. “I must squeeze these bountiful breasts together around my penis. I have dreamt about it for far too long to wait another moment!”

“You and me both, pal!” Gary cheers loudly, squeezing imaginary tits in the air as he faces the huge wall-mounted tv screen. “Grip them tits and fuck ‘em!”

“We’re with you, buddy!” Roger mimics the same squeezing action with his upraised hands. Even Jake and Jamal follow suit with accompanying “whooo hooos!” and “gotta weigh those melons!”

On the tv, the overhead camera shows the view of the smiling man drooling a large amount of saliva he’s worked up. It falls between the massive breasts he’s now holding slightly apart. As soon as the spit touches the flat skin of her chest, the Frenchman immediately pushes Wonder Woman’s fleshy globes together with enough pressure to make her nipples touch. The tits flatten together forming a tight tunnel into which the man sitting on the heroine’s stomach slides his stiffly erect penis. He lets out a very satisfied “aaah” and begins to thrust his cock back and forth between Wonder Woman’s compressed jugs. The lubrication of Pascal’s spit makes the thrusting easier and as he begins to work his thrusting hips more and more, the mix of his sweat and that of Wonder Woman’s makes her cleavage a slippery chute of pleasure for the bucking Frenchman. He feels the comforting weight of her meaty mammaries pressing against his cock as he rides Wonder Woman’s belly like some rodeo cowboy and fucks her tits with abandon.

After waiting five minutes and not the one minute Trevor promised, a now impatient Sal Abato snaps up his ringing cell phone off the car’s dashboard.

“Okay, Lieutenant Abato, here’s the deal,” Steve says without preamble. “They pinpointed this signal to precisely 11312 Rockville Pike. Satellite imagery shows a block-long five story warehouse with an antenna array on the roof. The action is going on inside that building.”

“Damn! We were across the street from there just this afternoon and we missed it,” Abato pounds the steering wheel. “Major Trevor, is that 11312 address owned by this Pascal guy? Or maybe...”

“Pascal Research LLC,” Jimmy says, reading from his notes. Abato repeats the name to Steve.

“That’s a negative, Lieutenant. But there’s no question that’s where the signal for this website broadcast originates.”

“Okay then, Major, we’re proceeding there now. Have you sent a team there to help wrap things up?”

“Wrap up, Abato? What the hell are you talking about? Wonder Woman is flat on her back getting her breasts massaged by this Pascal guy’s dick! Sorry Etta!”

“What are you talking about, Trevor? Dispatch said Wonder Woman had the situation well in hand 15 minutes ago.”

“That’s old news, Abato. They fought and he stuck her with curare. At least that’s what Pascal said on his website. She went limp as a carp! The website is showing her being...” Steve lowers his voice to a whisper and cups his mouth over the phone’s handset, “...titfucked!” Trevor turns his head and gives Etta a sheepish look that brings a flush to her cheeks, a quick glance at the monitor and a despairing nod of agreement.

“Get there ASAP, Abato,” Trevor urges vehemently. “The victim is helpless and I have no teams in the area on a Sunday night. All I have here is an aide and myself. We can move on that location but it will take some time. We’re down here near Langley.”

“No, Trevor, I need you to be my eyes and ears. Plus, I’ll contact my own dispatch via our car radio and my partner will track with them as well. We should have kept in touch with them more often but....Fuck it, that’s water under the bridge. We’re still about 15 minutes out from 11312. We’re going in hot with sirens.”

“Can I make a suggestion, Lieutenant? Think about killing those sirens four blocks out. I don’t want him spooked into doing anything past sexual abuse. That’s cold I know but she can live through that. She can’t live through the things he’s done to those other heroines. Let’s keep him thinking he’s got time, Abato. What do you say?”

“I think I’d rather scare him into making a break for it so she gets a chance to live, Major” answers Sal, miffed that the fed is trying to call the shots.

“No! No! He’s already killed two others. You know that! And fuck, man, you’re not seeing what I am here, Abato. She’s completely helpless and unable to move a muscle. He could cut her throat and walk away in seconds. Please, consider it a personal favor... please, Lieutenant Abato...Sal. This has to be handled right or we’re going to lose her. Please!”

Etta’s eyes well up as she hears Trevor’s voice crack.

“Acknowledged, Major,” Abato replies quietly, hearing the strain and not wanting to be responsible for the heroine’s death. “We go silent within four blocks. I’ll contact you again when we’re close or you give me a heads up if things go south...well, more south than the FUBAR situation we’ve got now!”

“Will do, Lieutenant. Get there. Just get there, Sal.”

“These tits of yours, Wonder Woman...just marvelous,” Pascal says with a huffing breath as his jerking hips drive his dick in and out of the tight crevice he’s created by crushing the massive mounds together. The thick slurping noise of his rigid prick pressing through her sweaty, fleshy cleavage fills the air. The symphony of her disgrace includes the occasional low grunt or moan as well as higher-pitched despairing whimpers. The man is relentless, his driving thrusts seemingly unending, with all the emotion of a fucking machine.

The Amazon’s face lies against the pale green carpet made soggy by her steadily leaking drool. Her gaping mouth shows the slightly compressed white star painted on the rubber ball crammed in there and held in place by tightly-buckled shiny red leather. Wonder Woman’s eyes stare into the middle distance, focusing on nothing while her body is rocked back and forth by the steady abuse of her breasts. The unending friction from Pascal’s penis against her quaking breasts spreads a rosy glow of pleasure through them that the heroine has worked hard to ignore for the last two minutes – but it is now building steadily within her. And the moment that the man riding her begins to tease her sensitive nipples by rolling them between his fingers, that pressure of excitement throttles significantly higher in her brain. The mighty heroine of the Amazons shivers with unavoidable delight.

For his part, Pascal savors the sensation of Wonder Woman’s breasts gripping him as he crowds them together and pulls himself in and out of the tight confines of her fleshy orbs. His cock is hardened steel, a piston rod moving through its motion and driving him to higher and higher plateaus of pleasure. He slows his pace to regain control, drawing a whimper from the woman beneath him. Her frustration delights him to no end. Playing on this, he bends low, grips her doughy breasts in his dimpling fingertips and begins to lick and nibble and gnaw at her fattened brown nipples. Helplessly, her body tenses and the Frenchman actually lifts the supine beauty by her tits off the floor slightly, even as he continues to destroy her resolve to fight the crescendo of pleasure with his consistent mouth work.


“I know, cherie, I know. I feel it too. We are magic together, non?”

Wonder Woman’s eyes lose focus as she lies there inundated with pleasure, drooling around her ball gag. Her breasts rise and fall with heavy breaths as they are man-handled and teased and mauled and kissed and assaulted in every possible way. The sharp nip of Pascal’s teeth on her right nipple has the heroine freezing in place and quaking in a helpless spasm of a tiny concentrated climax.


Etta gives a soft moan of her own while watching the nearly naked Wonder Woman stiffen and groan. The IADC agent feels her own panties growing damp under her uniform’s dark blue skirt. She shifts her thighs a bit, rubbing them together.

Steve grits his teeth and wonders what the hell he should be doing at this point. There’s no call from Detective Abato for an update and the situation, while degrading to Wonder Woman, really hasn’t changed appreciably so Steve feels no need to call the policeman to give him an update. He rubs his hand through his hair, shifts uncomfortably in his seat and continues to watch the monitor on his desk.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, fellas,” Gary declares, “but didn’t Wonder Woman just cum right there?”

“A petite mal, as it were,” replies Roger. “On the Richter scale, maybe a 4.2. but I anticipate much larger jolts in her future.”

“He’s jolting those titties pretty good,” Jake points out. “They’re shaking like a big bowl of Jello.”

“And they’re about to get a heap of whipped cream all over ‘em pretty soon. This guy’s gotta bust his nut sometime, right?”

“The man’s got stamina,” Roger answers. “You’ve got to give him that.”

At that moment, Pascal is feeling a sexual crescendo of his own coming closer. Reaching down he takes Wonder Woman’s limp hands off the floor and brings them up to her breasts. Covering her hands with his own, he places her palms against her own naked jugs and forces the defenseless champion to mash her own breasts together. He starts up his thrusting again, rocking his hips and driving his stiff cock in and out of the tightly tunneled tits. Each time the head of his penis pokes out of the top of the slippery fleshy cleft, it grazes against the warm tips of Wonder Woman’s fingers. The tender touches of those famous hands on his dick every time it passes through this Amazon’s Tunnel of Love generates a heady rush of urgent need in the Frenchman now. He does this six or seven times before it gets to be too much. The friction through the slick fleshy cleavage, the heat of those fingers caressing the pulsing head of his cock. He can’t take it.

Pascal releases Wonder Woman’s hands and they flop back onto the carpet even as her tits fall away from each other, bouncing and wobbling on her chest in crazed gyrations that have Gary tilting his head in wonder at the sight. With a frenzied fumbling, Pascal reaches both hands behind Wonder Woman’s head and undoes the buckle on the ball gag. He pulls the loose straps forward and roughly yanks the ball out of the shocked heroine’s mouth with a noticeable click of her jaw. Lifting himself up, the anxious Frenchman abruptly moves himself forward so that he’s now sitting on Wonder Woman’s tits. His sweaty ass covers her warm heaving breasts as he casts aside the ball gag and takes a firm grip on the back of the famous female’s hair with his left hand. He pulls her head sharply forward as his right hand guides his cock into the slack-jawed beauty’s gaping mouth.


Driven by a fast-rising sensation of undeniable pleasure, Pascal jerks his cock in and out of the warm open mouth of the Amazon pinned beneath him. Gripping her hair in painful bunches and pulling her face forward with both hands now, he thrusts his pole deep into that gagging mouth, forcing the mushroom head into the back of her throat. The gripping heat of her throat fills his head with sprinkling stars and he jerks himself back and forth into the confining cavern of her gaping maw again and again.

“...awlgk ...awlgk ...awlgk ...awlgk ...awlgk....”

Wonder Woman’s soft lips press helplessly into his ball sack, her eyes bulging, irises darting frantically as he deep throats her over and over until there’s nothing for him but surging irrepressible pleasure. He freezes in place and erupts in her mouth, his prick spewing a hot jet of cum down her throat and into her belly before she even realizes it. She gags and swallows a second heavy dose of cum right on the heels of the first and then, before she knows what’s happening, the cock is gone, pulled from her throat to allow a sweet flow of cool air into her lungs. Just as she draws precious oxygen into her straining lungs, her face is suddenly wet, her cheeks doused by a hot shower of Pascal’s still erupting geyser. Her eyelids sag with a heavy coating of his filthy cum. Her lips and chin receive a nasty icing of his dripping, pungent essence. Wonder Woman can do nothing as her face becomes a dumping ground for Pascal’s thick sticky spurts of lust. Another spray hits her forehead; another scatters across her nose and a final stinging squirt shoots up her nostril.

“Whaaulllggkk!.....ohhhhhh.....ehhhnnnhhh...” Gagging and moaning, Wonder Woman can only lie on her back and suffer the humiliation of having been the target of this despicable pervert’s splattered ejaculate all over her face. Gravity helps out and her head rolls to the left so her left cheek slaps into the soggy drool-soaked carpet. She feels the cum that remains in her cheeks and the top of her throat slowly drain out of the side of her mouth. The camera zooms in for closeup view as a thin trail of white cum dribbles out of Wonder Woman’s mouth to further soak the badly-stained carpet.

“Just look at that haughty bitch,” cheers Gary. “The famous Champion of All Women just had this guy blow his load in her mouth and now it’s dribbling out of there like some little baby spitting up tit milk after a good burping. You’re not the poster girl for feminism now, are you, cunt?”

“Never thought I’d see that! Wonder Woman with a cum-drenched face that’s no better than some drunken video porn slut. Gotta love it,” Roger grins. “I don’t think she’ll be clipping this photo to her applications to any new super hero teams.”

“Couldn’t help but notice she didn’t have no trouble swallowing most of that guy’s first two jizz shots, before he iced her face like a cupcake,” Jamal points out.

“She’s so hosed!” Jake gestures at the screen. “No way she can show her face in public after taking it in the face like that. This site’s got to be up to a million hits and trending.”

“Good heavens, that is just so....humiliating...for that poor women,” Etta chokes out, her eyes glued to the monitor. She pulls her hand off of Steve’s shoulder and strides to the door of his office. “Watch that if you must. I can’t...i...just can’t continue to watch such a....travesty. I’ll be in my office. I need....I need a break....” She opens the door and walks out heading for her cubicle. When she gets there, no one’s around. She flops down in her cushioned arm chair and tilts back in it, taking deep breaths. Looking around to be sure everyone has gone now that it’s 8:15 on a Sunday evening, Etta Candy loosens the waistband on her skirt, slides her hand down its front and pushes her fingers into her panties and the cleft of wet pussy within them. She strokes herself vigorously, bending her head to her chest and acting as if she’s thinking hard about something. Her other hand is tapping a pencil on her desk, keeping rhythm with her stroking fingers in the slushy crevice within her pale pink panties.

Sal and Jimmy slowly pull up at the Rockville Pike address they’d been at just earlier that same day. As agreed, Sal had cut the siren four blocks out and now the two detectives are casing the tall structure opposite the one they searched before.

“It makes sense that it’s across the street,” Sal says, “but it’s odd that there’s no link to Pascal Research with the owner.”

“Could be he’s a tenant,” Jimmy suggests. “We haven’t checked all those.”

“Right. Well, we’re going to have to go in and check out the whole building,” Sal declares. “Trevor said his people guaranteed the broadcast is being sent from this site. Looks damn quiet though. Still, I hope that Wonder Woman’s in there. She’s in some deep shit from what Trevor said.”

“Want the shotgun from the trunk?” Jimmy raises an eyebrow.

Sal doesn’t even take a second pondering this. “Fuck yeah. You carry it though. I got way higher scores on our last pistol ratings.

“I knew there was a bright side to that score,” Jimmy smiles as he gets out of the car.

Wonder Woman is lying on her back just waiting for her cum-covered face to get crusty in the drying air of Pascal’s carpeted hallway. Pascal has moved away through the room at the end of the hall to someplace else for now, but she can’t do anything about it. Her belt is giving her nothing. She has as much control of her body as a dead flounder. Being a helpless prisoner of one of the most despicable men she’s ever battled has brought her to the depths of a despair she’s never felt before. He’d outwitted her every single time in every way that mattered. She wasn’t going to get out of this. She was going to die. She can’t believe it but the truth is unavoid...

Her foot suddenly twitches and she can feel her toes moving back and forth. She’s moving her toes! She’s getting her muscular control back. She tries her fingers, tapping her thumb and pinky on the carpet. There was hope! She had some genuine hope of being able to surprise him perhaps if he stayed away long enough. She might actually be able to jump him when he bent to lift her up. She tries bending her knee slightly, riddled with fear that he’d come back at any second and see her being able to move. She has no choice though and yes, her knee is bending at her own will. She tries not to show any glimpse of excitement and makes her face as emotionless as a mannequin. It’s hard not to smile as she feels her muscles coming to life all over her body.

And then she hears Pascal walking through the room at the end of the hall. He’s happily humming as he comes into the hallway and heads right toward her, holding up more red leather objects.

“Look what I have for you, Wonder Woman,” Pascal says, waving them in the air at the camera stationed over the study door. “It’s your very own dog collar and leash. We’re going to go back to my basement lab now, even if I have to drag you all the way there.”

Wonder Woman’s body tenses as the beaming Frenchman draws closer to him, a mere six feet away. It was now or never....

End of Part 34