Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 35  

Wonder Woman tries to sense Pascal’s location through the vibrations of the floor. Her eyes are closed as she pretends to be exhausted. It doesn’t take much acting, since she does feel completely played out. She wishes her power belt would give her a boost but it just grips her waist like a sentimental relic from some tacky estate sale. Still, she can’t let that affect her. She literally has to spring into action here in mere seconds.

When Pascal is only a foot away, Wonder Woman strikes. Her eyes snap open and though surprised to see that Pascal is dressed once more, she kicks her leg up, aiming the heel of her rapidly closing foot directly at the man’s beaming face. He’s waving the red leather dog collar and leash in the air but drops it when he sees her kicking up at him. Diana is hoping to break his nose in one hard strike. The heel drives upward with venomous intent and is inches away from the Frenchman’s nose when his hand, now freed from the dropped dog collar, grabs her ankle and pulls it to the left so it misses him altogether.

With her leg strike checked and the appendage held wide to the left, the famous Amazon’s crotch is left exposed with impending disastrous results. Pascal’s other hand comes out of the pocket of the sports jacket he is wearing, his knuckles gleaming with the shocking glint of brass. The fist crashes down on the hourglass shape of blue fabric and white star covering her pussy with a thundering thump.

“AAAARRRGGGHH!”

The mighty Amazon’s upper torso comes rocketing up off the carpet in horrific agony only to be met by Pascal’s sharp, unforgiving elbow to her forehead. Stunned into oblivion by this blow, Wonder Woman collapses backward in a defenseless sprawl, her limp figure lies dazed and helpless on the hallway carpet, arms spread, eyes crossed. The raven-haired heroine is unable to form a single thought. A red spot on her forehead grows into a bump and steadily expands into a knot the size of a walnut, deep red and angry. To ensure that the Amazon is completely subdued, Pascal gives her a hard shot to her temple with his brass-knuckled fist that knocks the heroine’s head sideways and has her eyelids fluttering on the very edge of black unconsciousness. The Frenchman removes the punishing brass implement from his hand and slips it back into his jacket pocket, enjoying the comforting weight as it settles down in there.

Rene Pascal is thrilled with how well everything is going. He realizes that his face has probably been viewed by thousands on the website by now. He had been concerned earlier on about his identity being known but he’s so confident of his escape plan and how things are progressing that he’s no longer worried about that. He’d even cancelled the uneven attempt at pixelation after he’d gotten dressed. If things proceed cleanly, he’ll get away and no one will be able to touch him despite knowing exactly who he is. He’s filled with delight about this, knowing he’ll be known throughout history as the man who destroyed Wonder Woman. He’s actually humming as he deftly binds the heroine’s hands.

In less than 30 seconds, he has the disoriented, feeble beauty manhandled onto her side with her hands brought together behind her back and tightly bound, palms touching, with a plastic zip tie. Pascal is in complete control of the dazed, silent heroine. He’d been expecting the curare to wear off by now and was completely prepared for the mighty Amazon’s awkward attack. It had been obvious and slow, simplicity itself to counter really. The brass knuckles weren’t even necessary with this pitiful cunt but it felt good to the Frenchman to drive his fist deep into her soft pussy and to hear the shriek of pain from the famous Champion of All Women as her eyes bulged in agony and her body jerked up in reflex to meet his elbow strike.

Lying senseless on the pale green carpet, with her crotch blazing with pain and her hands bound behind her back, Wonder Woman’s body instinctively arches and flexes on its back in slow, lazy motions as her brain attempts to reboot from the stunning blow to her head. Far too dazed however, the heroine can do nothing as she feels her head lifted momentarily and then let back down on the carpet as something is fixed around her throat.

“There we go, princess. Sorry there are no diamond studs on this dog collar. I know you are used to such lavish refinements but the budget committee would not allow it.” Pascal chuckles at his own joke. “So, this red patent leather collar and leash will just have to do. Besides, it matches the ball gag so perfectly. Here, let me get that back into place for you, cherie.”

Taking the gag from his pocket, Pascal forces the ball into Wonder Woman’s mouth and straps it on behind her head. The rubber ball is still soggy with her drool from earlier and tastes foul in her mouth. The heroine lets out a soft choking gargle as the bondage toy is fixed in place.

“...whaaullggkk...”

“What do you say we show the world how you look with a nice close-up, mon ami? Give them a view of the very face of defeat, Amazon-style?”

...whuh...whuz he mean..?...

Grabbing a hunk of hair with his left hand, Pascal lifts Wonder Woman’s upper body off the rug and quickly slides his right arm around it, grabbing her meaty tit for a handhold. He then tries to heave her to her feet so she can stand on her own but the heroine’s wobbly knees and addled brain refuse to cooperate. Forsaking chivalry completely, the six-foot villain drops his right arm from around her body to the waistband of the knock-off panties. With her upper torso suspended about two feet off the ground and her lavender toenails winking in the carpet behind her, Wonder Woman’s limp figure is slowly dragged like a 100-pound bag of mulch by her hair and starred briefs along the rug toward Pascal’s study.

The blue fabric covering Wonder Woman’s butt has completely disappeared from view, having instantly slid off her cheeks and buried itself deep into the Amazon’s tight ass-crack after Pascal had given her that first hard yank along the upstairs hallway. The wide cushioned ass of the downward-facing heroine now wobbles back and forth in a freestyle sashay of flopping flesh as she is dragged in a series of short jerks toward the study. Her bound arms, zip-tied at the wrists, bump up and down behind her back against her now worthless power belt. Every subsequent jerk toward the room 15 paces away brings a shimmy and sway of Wonder Woman’s meaty breasts beneath her like some cow lurching past a gopher hole on its evening return home to the barn. Even her groaning sounds a bit like the mooing of a beast with overfilled milk bags. Behind her, the befuddled beauty’s bare feet leave dark furrowed trails in the nap of the rug, defining her progress from where she fell to her current position.

After he pulls the body of the famed heroine over to a spot two feet away from the door to his study, Pascal lets go of the hunk of hair he’s been yanking her along with and as Wonder Woman’s head starts to drop, he grabs the red leather leash, pulling a gagging choke from his prey. Using the strap he efficiently wraps around his fist, Pascal hefts the limp figure into the air, choking her even more. His other hand curls even more tightly around the waistband of her panties and, proudly, he presents her limp figure before the camera mounted over the door.

The woozy, defenseless Amazon hisses loudly around the ball gag as the crotch of her panties cleaves even more deeply into her cleft; her own weight causing her searing pain. Her body turns slightly in his grip, choked by the taut leash from which she hangs. If not for his grip on her panties, she’d be desperately gasping for air. As it is, the groggy Amazon warrior hangs there in place before the world; a weary and beaten figure. The grinning Frenchman holds her body up so that the swaying beauty’s bare toes dangle mere inches over the rug and he shakes the dangling heroine at the camera lens.

“Here is your famous Wonder Woman, world! What do you think of this mighty champion? Are you shocked at how shameful the once powerful and intimidating Amazon now looks?” He shakes her flaccid body once more holding it up like a trophy and then throws his head back and lets out a huge belly laugh. “Well, since you have subscribed to a website named WW Screwed! I can only imagine you will be absolutely thrilled with a nice closeup of the supposed Champion of All Women.” Pascal steps a foot closer to the camera to provide a spectacular view of his vanquished prize.

Gary watches the 54-inch wall-mounted television with wide eyes and a slack jaw as Wonder Woman’s face, tilted on the tight red leather leash, fills the screen. The swollen red knot on her forehead gives her the look of a teenaged Klingon, he thinks, but the alien resemblance ends there. The rest of her face is pure porn star at the end of a gang bang, with globs of spewed semen all over her cheeks, spread across her chin and dripping from her nose. There’s even a particularly thick clump of jism coating her eyelid, giving her a pronounced lazy eye. With the dog collar around her neck, the Amazon has been obviously tamed and tamed hard. What’s more, the way her limp head dangles in place from the leash and with the obvious confusion in those dull blue eyes, Gary can tell that Wonder Woman’s bell has not only been rung, but the echoes are still reverberating through the now hollow halls of her once richly-filled mind.

The famous heroine’s humiliation is immortalized on camera by the heavy strings of combined drool and cum draining out of her slack mouth. With her pale red lips circling the fat rubber ball with it’s gooey white star, it is crystal clear that the famous Amazon warrior is only a pale imitation of what she once was. The helplessly dog-collared Wonder Woman hangs there wavering stupidly in this bearded man’s grip. Her world-renowned face is blasted by cum, her eyes are glazed and blank, her bound hands hang limp and useless behind her back. The Champion of All Women is presented as a complete mockery of her once heroic stature.

“That bitch is fucked up,” the clerk says in amazement.

Roger starts slowly clapping at the screen and Jake and Jamal slowly take up the applause as well, raising their hands at the screen and adding their “Alright!” and “Yeah!” to the acclaim. The quartet’s clapping increases in speed and tempo until all four men are pounding their hands together, cheering and backslapping each other for all they are worth. The ecstatic group offers their howling, stomping tribute to the remarkable man who had single handedly brought down and destroyed the haughty heroine. The very female who stormed into the shop not so long ago and tried to shame them into what she thought was proper behavior was now the one who was shamed beyond all measure.

“Hey, Wonder Woman,” Gary shouts above the fray, “want to come back and tell me how to behave now, you counter-cracking cow? Guess not, you fat, cum-faced cunt. Put in your place now, aren’t ‘cha? Ain’t payback a bitch, bitch!”

“OH NO!” Steve is shouting at the monitor so loudly that Etta hears him from her cubicle. Quickly making herself presentable due to her disheveled appearance after her masturbation, the pudgy aide rushes to see what has Steve so distressed.

“My lord...she...she’s a...a....wreck....” he’s saying, eyes fixed to the screen on his desk. “..totally...completely...abused....I’ve...never seen...”

Looking from her mumbling superior officer and circling behind him to look at the screen, Etta suddenly gasps and takes a step back. “Heavens...that’s...horrible...” It’s like a traffic accident that magnetizes her eyes to the horror. Wonder Woman’s face drips with semen and she’s being held up by a red leather leash. Her expression shows equal parts exhaustion and confusion. Etta’s never seen a woman so horridly treated and this was the icon of all women. “My god, Steve, we have to do something! What should we do?”

“We’re doing all we can do, Etta. We’ve tracked the signal and the police should be there right now. They could be breaking in any second. All we can do is pray for Wonder Woman and watch closely for anything that could be useful.”

“I don’t see any windows. If there were windows we might catch a view of where she’s located.” Etta is babbling with panic at the sight of the cum on Wonder Woman’s dully fluttering eyelid slowly sliding off and dribbling down her cheek.

“We know where she is. We’ve pinpointed that. There’s just nothing we can do to help her right now. I just wish somebody like Superman would swoop in and save her. I thought he cared about her!”

Steve hears this bastard’s voice off camera. “Are you shocked at how shameful the once powerful and intimidating Amazon now looks,” he taunts the stupefied woman. The words are like daggers to the Major’s chest. Wonder Woman, the woman who captured his heart, the epitome of beauty and grace and courage has been reduced to a mindless, drooling, cum-faced porn star before his eyes. He can’t look away either but something inside him withers and curls and goes very, very still. And when the heartless bastard throws his head back and laughs and crows that everyone who is viewing the site is probably thrilled with the view, Steve fights a rising gorge of sick disgust that threatens to erupt from his gut.

“Well, so much for your closeup, Princess. Your fat ass is getting too heavy to hold up any longer. So now, let me take you to a mirror so you can see for yourself just how special you look to your public.”

“...llehh mmuhh..gguuhh” Wonder Woman says into the ball gag, finally able to piece together a fragment of coherence in her mind if not through her mouth.

“I do not know what you said there, pumpkin, but you will have to tell me later. For now, I simply want you to get the full effect of this. To understand clearly what you now look like to the whole planet, vous comprendre?”

“...nnghh...ohnd...annaa ...eee...nnghh....”

“Yes, whatever you said, cherie, I am sure it is truth personified. And I can tell that you are alarmed, but you must look at this, angel. I insist. Oh, and dear visitors,” Pascal addresses the camera directly with a wink, “we will be with you in a moment, as soon as I have a free hand to switch to the proper camera.”

As the face of Wonder Woman passes beneath the camera and out of view, the picture remains focused on the empty upper carpeted hallway. The dark wet spot of drool and puddled cum off in the distance is a testament to how an Amazon warrior has been shamed in battle.

Still toting the heroine by the leash and the stretched out waistband of her painfully cleaving panties, Pascal walks a now visibly struggling Wonder Woman into the study and shuts the door with his hip. Fastened to the back of the door is a full-length mirror. The Frenchman restrains the writhing woman with some obvious effort. She’s getting her second wind apparently. He can take care of that though. He sets the twisting and jerking heroine on her feet just 18 inches before the mirror and releases her panties. He immediately takes his phone from his pants pocket and keys the video app so the study camera can now feed the view to the website. With the collared heroine writhing and twisting in place, held in check by Pascal’s tight fisted grip on her leash and his renewed grip on her panties, it is a shock when he suddenly lets go of both restraining grips simultaneously.

Wonder Woman is completely unprepared for this and stumbles forward onto both knees with her face mere inches from her reflection. With her hands bound behind her back, she’s lucky to have enough balance not to crash face first into the mirror. But the sight before her is something from a nightmare.

“Aaghh!”

The raven-haired Amazon’s head snaps back. She now sees what the world has been shown. Her famous face is thickly glazed with a man’s semen like vanilla frosting. It coats her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, half her eyelid and her chin. Her mouth! Her mouth is filled with the rubber ball and from its sides and bottom drains silvery streams of her drool. Three different tributaries of spit flow down from her lips, from the corners of her mouth and from her chin onto her naked chest. She sees herself on her knees, confused, horrified and soiled beyond belief. She’s completely naked except for a horrible pair of uncomfortably-tight imitation panties and her twisted, ruined power belt circling her waist. She can’t abide the deep disgrace of these two mocking reminders of what she had been. Her once glorious stature, her noble heritage, her courage have all been laid to ruin today. A man’s stinking seed cakes her face and flows through her cleavage for Hera’s sake! The horrific stain of this ultimate dishonor burns on her skin and rends holes in her heart with a searing pain that makes it difficult to breathe.

Suddenly, Pascal steps up to her and reaches behind her head to unbuckle the gag. The Amazon warrior flinches badly on her knees, cowed and nervous. But when the soggy hateful ball is removed, a rush of more drool and leftover cum from her belly and sinuses splashes out of Wonder Woman’s gaping mouth. Her eyes take in this view in the mirror, this disgorgement of his seed. Of his victory over her. Of her utter debasement.

Her mouth opens even wider but no sound comes out. Her keening soul is wrenched hard and finally only a small shrill squeak of horror escapes the Amazon’s throat. Her wide blue eyes look back at her with untold shock and pain. This is Edward Munch’s painting “The Scream” personified. And Wonder Woman shudders and collapses sideways, now giving voice to her horror and her shame, uncaring of the multitudes who watch with shocked disbelief at the complete unraveling of a hero. She screams and sobs and wails to the heavens, to her lost gods, until her voice is raw with her agony and heartbreak. None hear her. No one answers. No one comes to save her from this demon.

She does not even hear Pascal caution her to be quiet or he will strike her, hurt her. She is lost in the hysteria of her lost soul, her absolute destruction. And her actions only perpetuate her own defeat. In the eyes of the world, Wonder Woman will never be a wonder again.

Behind her, Pascal smiles in the mirror. He takes out the brass knuckles once more as the woman’s screaming continues and he begins his final beating of her.

“Oh lord, he’s tearing into her again. That poor creature,” Etta groans.

Two kidney punches, a hard left to her ribs, a right to her left breast, a vicious backhand to her right tit and thundering gut punch leaves the wheezing, bloodied champion in a fetal position on the floor of the study, dazed and whimpering. The screaming has stopped. It is time for more humiliating sex to begin. Pascal cuts the zip strip from her wrists and pulls the devastated Amazon to her feet and she is able to stand, though unsteadily. One hand settles on a nearby octagonal table to help steady her swaying figure.

“Face the mirror for me, cherie.”

Wonder Woman complies.

“Closer. Press against it with your breasts.”

Wonder Woman complies.

“Now lift up your hands to either side and place your palms against the mirror, head high.”

Wonder Woman does this.

“Excellent. Now slowly reach down with both hands and push down your panties to mid-thigh then replace the palms head-high just where they were.”

Wonder Woman performs this exactly as commanded.

With her ass crack in plain view and her butt cheeks still jiggling from being released from the tight confines of the small panties, the mighty heroine’s rear is ready and waiting. Pascal reaches forward and takes hold of them in either hand giving them both a slow firm squeeze.

“You will now let me fuck you in the ass without complaint, without resistance, without an ounce of denial.”

Wonder Woman acquiesces completely.

The famous Amazon warrior accepts the hard penetration of his cock into her without a hint of dispute, without so much as a grunt.

The foursome at the Heavenly Delights bookstore goes wild.

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer part 35