The fifth floor proved no more productive than the fourth, just more time consuming as both detectives had to try countless locked doors in a warren of storage rooms, aisles of stacked pallets taller than themselves, and several areas of clustered spools of thick cable that also towered over them, some quite precariously.
It took more than twenty minutes to finally get to the far corner of the building before they came face to face with a dark gray electrical panel fastened to the wall. A cable ran from the panel to a wall-mounted control board two feet to the left. A tiny glowing green indicator light showed the control board was live. It was the only thing besides the feral cats in the building with signs of life.
“Son of a bitch,” Sal spits, walking up to the control board. “Five’ll get you ten this thing is connected to a satellite dish on the roof of this place. It’s a fucking remote transmitter, probably connected to either Frenchy’s place across the street or to his home address. Sure, he’s transmitting from here but here’s not where he is. This prick is really pissing me off. Let’s go fry his ass, Jim.”
“You want to pull the plug on him here?” Jimmy nods at the control board with its green indicator light and points his gun at it. “Screw up his little webcast?”
Sal thinks about this for half a minute before answering.
“We don’t know what this guy’s doing to Wonder Woman. I don’t want to spook him or give him any notice we’re tracking him. If he’s good enough to kill super-powered types, we’re going to need the element of surprise I think. Leave it alone.”
“You want to check the roof to confirm the dish is there?”
“I don’t. We’ve wasted more than enough time here.”
The two cops head for the stairs at a brisk trot, their beams bobbing up and down in the dark like moonlight on ocean swells.
When Wonder Woman reaches the door to Pascal’s lab she halts and stands aside expecting him to open it for her.
He yanks the leash sharply with a snarl and draws a choking squawk from the unbalanced heroine. “You open it, bitch. It is not locked and I am not your fucking footman, Princess!”
Straightening up, Diana twists the knob and moves to enter the lab when another vicious yank from Pascal on her leash pulls her backward against him with an ungainly misstep. His free hand wraps around her and grabs hold of her tit and he holds the naked woman close, whispering in her ear.
“You wait here for a second, cow. I want to set the scene for your worldwide audience first. After all, they are paying good money for a show. They should get value for it, n’est ce pas?”
When she doesn’t answer him, Pascal’s fingernails dig into her nipple with a quick fierceness that pulls a cry of pain from Wonder Woman.
“AAIEE! Yes! Yes, they deserve value.”
“I am glad we agree. Stay, bitch.” Pascal releases her and walks into the room. He takes his cell phone from his pants pocket and looks at the screen. His eyes widen with amazement. Over 122,000 visitors have elected to pay the $69.95 fee and 280,000 have opted for photo sets. He has just earned almost $13 million on the day. It’s already been transferred to his off-shore account, added to the two million already there from the first offers proceeds. Joyous, he keys the app and sets the cameras in the lab to send live feeds to his phone. He sets the app to automatic and it will activate the nearest camera to the transmitter in Wonder Woman’s leather collar to go live. He overrides this momentarily though so he can talk to the nearby ceiling- mounted camera and set the scene for his viewers.
“Good evening, my friends. I see that a large number of you have joined us for this final stage of the evening’s entertainment. A whopping 122 thousand of you will be watching the famous Champion of All Women learn to submit to her master’s whims. I am so pleased you decided to join the party...or to my earlier subscribers who decided to continue with us, to stay for the grand finale trio of acts this evening: Wonder Woman in Bondage! Wonder Woman in Ecstacy! Wonder Woman in Dire Peril of Her Life!”
Pascal motions to the doorway with a come-hither wave of his wrist. “Don’t be shy, cherie. Come show your appreciative audience all your charms. Come and stand right there,” the tall bearded man points to a spot five feet away from him. He keys the app so the heroine is now the star in the spotlight.
Wonder Woman takes long, prideful strides into the room and the cameras all focus on her statuesque body as she reaches where he’s indicated. She stops, standing naked under the bright fluorescent fixtures shining down on her and her large quivering breasts come to a halt a moment later.
“I believe a slow pirouette is in order, hero. Very slow, if you please. On point, like all the lovely ballerinas do, if you can manage it. I have noticed several times today that you are far more clumsy than I expected for a trained Amazon warrior. I guess they just do not make them like they used to, eh?”
Wonder Woman’s jaw tightens but she says nothing. She bends her left leg, raises herself up on the front edge of her right foot, every toe tightly clenched and bearing her full weight. She starts her slow turn when Pascal yells “No! Stop! This is wrong. All wrong!”
Startled, Wonder Woman falls off point and takes two awkward stumbling flat-footed backward steps. “What?” She can’t disguise the sudden fear in her eyes.
“That piece of trash around your waist. Remove it!”
The jaw tightens again but Wonder Woman reaches behind her back and, with well-practiced hands, easily undoes the hidden catch of her ruined golden girdle. She slips it off her waist possibly for the very last time in her life and her lip quivers with the trauma of it. She blinks back a tear even as Pascal calls out to her.
“There’s a trash barrel right behind you, Wonder Woman. Just toss that worthless old relic right in that.”
Wonder Woman holds her arm out and drops the ruined belt into the barrel then lets her arm fall to her side. She shivers for a second then straightens her back and glares at Pascal who stares right back at her.
“Back on point, bitch.”
Wonder Woman steps back to where she was before and gets back into position. She holds both arms out horizontally and slowly turns her body by quarter turns. With her leg bent and held to the side, her bald pussy is clearly displayed to the cameras that Pascal controls with his phone in hand. He focuses in on the prize and grins.
“That’s right, cherie” he coaxes her on, “twirl for the people. Like a pretty music box figurine....except one that’s butt naked. Show the world that famous Amazon physique, those glorious huge melons, that precious shaved twat of the Champion of All Twats.”
“What a fucking body!” Jake can barely keep his hand off his crotch watching the famous heroine spin in quarter circles on the 54" crystal clear HD television. As she turns, a glimmer of pink vaginal lips is revealed when her flexing thighs shake with the strain of the position the beautiful heroine holds.
“What a fuckin’ snatch,” Gary adds.
“She’s a master of her physical control, having to balance with those heavy hooters on the move,” Roger says appreciatively.
“She’s like an incredible piece of Michelangelo sculpture spinning like that,” Jamal says, awestruck and drawing startled looks from everyone. He notices their surprise and growls, “What? I can’t give props to a world-class piece of white ass?”
“‘Course you can, homey,” grins Jake. “We all just didn’t know we were sharing space with some Masterpiece Theater cracker.”
“Fuck off, all of you!”
The five grinning faces aimed at Jamal turn like animatronic puppets back to the television screen on the wall.
“Oh, Steve, look at her. She’s doing whatever he tells her. I think she’s completely given up.” Etta wrings her hands as she watches the famous beauty complete her last quarter turn on point and rest back down on her soles. Pascal keys a camera behind the Amazon and just catches the heavy wobble of her wide ass after she sets down. The tremors and flexing of the mighty glutes catches Etta’s breath in her throat.
Even Steve’s voice is tight when he comments, “Never thought I’d see the day where Wonder Woman dances to the tune of a monster like him. Tragic. I’m stunned to the core. And where the hell are those detectives?”
Sal floors the accelerator and Jimmy holds onto the cushioned arm rest as the Italian detective weaves his way through Sunday night traffic in Bethesda. But when he comes up to a crowd of autos leaving a movie theater parking lot, Sal is forced to come to a halt until he gets the siren going. He’s far enough away from Pascal’s residence at the moment so the siren isn’t a concern. The problem is that the bright red and blue cycling roof light and whining drone of the siren doesn’t seem to be concerning the jumble of cars frozen with indecision. Jimmy hops out and starts directing traffic with broad arm movements and crisp wrist and finger work. He hadn’t worked traffic for over 10 years but it’s a skill you don’t lose when you do it for a while. Slowly the jam clears and ten endless minutes later, the two D.C. cops are back on their way to try to save Wonder Woman. Sal has called Dispatch in the meantime and gotten an update. Things with the Amazon hero are not going well.
Wonder Woman gives the table with the sweat-stained tan leather pad and dangling shackles a wary glance but Pascal’s hand on her elbow guides her past it toward the far right corner of the laboratory. There on the small table against the wall not four feet away rests a pile of clear rubber. Two rubber feet dangle off the side of the table. Diana recognizes what this is and hesitates in her stride a bit at the sight.
Three heroines died wearing suits just like this one!
The red leather leash held in Pascal’s other hand jerks the raven-haired Amazon forward, pulling her hips roughly up against the table. Her hands fly forward, coming down into the rubber pile to help her regain her balance.
“Put it on, mon ami.”
“Are you sure the people wouldn’t prefer to see me in all my...my glorious nakedness?” Though resigned to her fate, the heroine tries to bargain with the devil.
“I am sure they will want to see your face twisted in an uncontrollable spasm of pure ecstasy. This suit will provide that. Put it on, champ.” Pascal unhooks the red leash but leaves the dog collar around his captive’s neck. “Now.”
It is quite a struggle for Wonder Woman to work her body into the tight confines of the clear rubber garment. The use of baby powder in a small canister in the table drawer helps a little but the site’s viewers are treated to plenty of loud grunting, bending, flashing crevices, squeaking rubber, flexing limbs and snapping latex. It takes ten minutes and a few times of Pascal lending a steadying hand on a hip, a breast and a thigh before the famous beauty finally reaches down to smooth out the last stubborn wrinkle of the skin-tight clear rubber cat suit against her lithe and lovely body.
The suit gives a flawless sheen of perfection to the sight of the naked Wonder Woman with her feet spread and her crossed arms under her breasts. The huge mounds strain the rubber with tiny stretch wrinkles that serve to accent their beguiling beauty. Her shaved pussy, clamped tight within the rubber crotch, is displayed like an exotic fish in a sushi market. The camera catches the soft glare of an extensive array of tiny square pads spread all across the amazing rubber-clad body. These stimulation pads are all linked by a micro-thin wire network within the suit to a control box affixed to between Wonder Woman’s shoulder blades.
“Magnifique,” exclaims Pascal who circles his prize like a cattleman surveying a prize heifer at auction. He greedily squeezes her tit flesh, her ass and her bald tightly-packaged pussy with slow lingering passes and Wonder Woman just stands there and allows him such indignities without raising a hand or an eyebrow.
“Man, has he tamed this woman or what?” Jamal is amazed. He’d come up against this domineering female in person and hadn’t liked the feeling. Well, he liked the feel of clutching that soft pussy of hers in his palm, but beside that, she scared the crap out of him. She was one intimidating bitch!
“Son of a bitch!” Gary is staring at the screen with his mouth open. He grabs a catalog from a shelf under the counter, slaps it down loudly on the aged wooden surface and flips through it hurriedly. Poking his finger at the page and then the tv he exclaims, “I knew it! I fuckin’ knew it. That bitch is wearing that exact suit she was askin’ about when she came in here that day; the ‘Cunt Hugger Exciter.’ It was bought for her. And don’t she just look like a slice of heaven wearin’ it!”
“Yeah, so?” Jake is unimpressed by the fact the sale for the cat suit took place in this store. He’s much more impressed by the view of that suit on that body. Boy, did he want to rub one out. The alley was starting to sound good but he was afraid of what he’d miss. Wet dream fodder for the rest of his life. He’d just have to hold on without holding on to it. He grins at this thought.
“So?” Gary declares, “So, this is pure advertising gold! That’s what’s so! I can blow up this catalog page and put it in my window and make a sign saying ‘As seen on the Internet! Wonder Woman wore this exact suit purchased in this store! 30% off to anybody presenting a receipt from that famous Internet broadcast.’ That’ll draw customers like flies to honey! They’ll come in just to talk to me. This is going to make me rich.”
“That’s good thinking, Gary,” Roger admits. “And it should work for you, but if you don’t mind, you’re disturbing my concentration. Frenchy here is feeling up Wonder Woman’s body like he’s checking for ticks. The man is thorough. I’ll give him that.”
Jamal agrees. He can’t believe that this famous superheroine who can lift tanks is just letting this tall French dude squeeze her titties and ass and her cooz like he’s choosing melons at a fruit market. No quick feels on the sly for him like Jamal had done. No, this man was obviously lording it over Wonder Woman. The bitch had taken a long hard fall to be acting like this. It was getting him hard.
Major Steve Trevor was sporting a hard-on that felt like it was capable of lifting his desk six inches off the floor. The sight of Wonder Woman’s body clad in a tight skin of clear rubber being fondled by a man without a hint of resistance was almost unbearable to him. He clears his throat and picks up the phone to call down to Sergeant Miller but then replaces the handset in the cradle. There was nothing else the man or his tech team could do at this point. It was up to the two detectives now. Picking up the phone again, he consults a note on his desk with Abato’s cell phone number and calls it. Etta watches the screen without taking a breath and the moistness between her legs sends one lonely drip of her excitement down her wide chubby thighs.
“Yes, Detective Abato, this is Major...Yes, I knew that was a possi...no I didn’t exceed my author...Yes, I’m aware of her situa...I can’t be sure how many....No I won’t be able...I’d rather go there and...No I’m not trying to usurp any....Thank you. Yes Detective Abato, I’ll be here if you nee....Hello? Hello?”
Major Trevor’s prick was not hard anymore.