Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 39  

Sal has just stopped in the hallway between the living room and dining room. Jimmy is coming around from the kitchen toward him when the hairs on Sal’s arms begin to tingle. He looks down at the small beige area rug on which he stands. It’s intertwining black pattern reminds him of snakes. Without another second’s hesitation, Sal throws his body to the left just as a huge flash of electricity surges across the tiny rug. Landing hard on his side and sliding across the marble tile, Sal comes to a sudden stop against a wall. His eyes widen at the scorch marks at the edge of the carpet and then meet Jimmy’s who’s shaking his head slowly.

“This guy’s a laugh a minute,” the Irish cop says, walking over to extend his hand to help Sal to his feet.

“I’m sure Wonder Woman feels the same way,” Sal answers coldly as he leans down to pick up his dropped revolver. The two men slowly continue their search, grim-faced and wary.


Wonder Woman is dizzy with pleasure even as she is bereft of hope and filled with fear at the possibility that Steve’s life might be in danger. For her own identity, she might not have agreed to this oral humiliation, things were that far gone, but if Major Trevor was at risk....well, yet again Pascal had outflanked her. His fat penis waves before her, it’s purplish mushroom head bobbing in the light from the overhead fluorescent. Diana opens her mouth and Pascal steps forward calmly and confidently, sliding his dick over the surface of her tongue like it was an every day occurrence. Wonder Woman closes her lips around the warm shaft and begins to suckle her enemy’s penis.

Even though she is aware that her actions are inappropriate, the famous heroine is still dazed and over-excited on by the two plastic rods vibrating in her most sensitive holes. Worked up to a lather of horniness, Wonder Woman sucks in her cheeks and actually savors the taste and feel of a wide warm shaft filling her mouth.

“....mmmmmhhhhh.......ghoood...” Unaware she’s even doing it, Wonder Woman moans deeply as she exults in the sensation of a man’s warm pulsing shaft in her mouth. Eating pussy was fantastic but nothing compared to the feel of a cock engulfed by her mouth, the fleshy head tickling the back of her throat.

Even without Pascal’s hands on her head, the highly-aroused beauty, with her head thrown back, opens her throat and thrusts her face forward to swallow the cock deeper, forcing its head into the back of her throat. She flutters her lips against his skin while her tongue swishes away against the top surface of his shaft. She lets out another moan of pleasure and it’s obvious to anybody watching that Wonder Woman is enjoying herself. When she begins to draw her head back and forth, taking the length of Pascal’s cock to the hilt again and again, it is the Frenchman’s turn to moan aloud.

“Now there’s a fox who really enjoys giving head,” Jamal says with admiration. “And she’s no stranger to it either. Even hanging like that with her head upside down, that lady has skills.”

“She sure ain’t no virgin, that’s for sure,” Jake adds.

“This bitch?” Gary says, “she could suck a quarter out of a plush carpet and give you change back on the tip of her tongue. Paragon of virtue? Don’t make me laugh! Look at that slut suck, people. The only Wonder about that Woman is that she’s not turning tricks every night. She sure looks perfect for the part.”

“I haven’t seen that much head movement since last Halloween’s apple bobbin’ contest at O’Dooley’s Bar,” Roger states. “Or was it in Dooley’s back room and that bar maid Janet? Either way, that princess there can felate with the best of ‘em.”

The suit continues to tease her clit while the two dildos buzz within Wonder Woman’s holes with a constant attack on her body and brain. Lost in a fever of delight, the mighty warrior can only suckle and lick and bob her head in complete abandon to her basest urges. With a passion, she then begins to deep-throat Pascal with the clear intent of enjoying herself while bringing him off.

“...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...”

Etta’s mouth goes dry as she watches the disappearing act that Pascal’s cock is continually doing in Wonder Woman’s face. Steve’s eyes are like saucers and he feels like a tea kettle about ready to scream out it’s whistle.

Standing over the beauty with the bobbing head, the Frenchman wavers in place, his hands holding onto the blue plastic straps as Wonder Woman leans her head a bit further back, arches her neck and gobbles his cock with relentless precision, her neck flexing and her head jerking back and forth with nothing but her satisfaction in mind.

“...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...uullghk...”

“NO! No, you bitch! NOT YET!. Not this way!”

Pascal pulls his spit-shined dick out of Wonder Woman’s gaping mouth with a yank and steps back two paces. While his prick swings flagrantly before the camera, the scientist regains his control and quickly draws his cell phone out of this pocket. He taps a series of keys on the face of the phone and the naked, rubber-clad beauty arches her back in a sudden helpless paroxysm of pure joy. Pascal puts away his junk for now.

“We are doing this my way, you horny slut! I have planned too carefully to have you ruin my end game. It is you who will cum now, hero. Not me.”

The suit has gone into overdrive. All stimulation pads are sequencing in a devastating array of pleasure flows that circulate all over and around Wonder Woman’s body. They circle her tits, stimulate her nipples, flow down her back and run up her legs. And it all comes to a focus in one of the heroine’s two holes. Her pussy and her ass. Pascal steps forward again and comes to Wonder Woman’s side, kneeling down beside her. His hands grip both dildos and he begins to rapidly thrust and pull the vibrating rods in and out of her squishy holes. He does it over and over and the rubber clad heroine shouts out in helpless pleasure.

“Hera! No...I....can’t...help...Th...this...is too....too....”

“Yes, Wonder Woman. It is too much for you to withstand. Far too much. Feel the rods filling your snatch. Packing that ass. Over and over with no way to resist, no where to run, no place to hide. Behind that blindfold you will go blind with ecstasy my dear. And you will do it now.”

“...i...can’t...no...it’s...not...not....fair...not..right...not ri...OH....NO! ...nuh..nuh..”

The dildos saw away within her holes. The suit makes her aware of every nerve fiber in her body. Wonder Woman cannot begin to hold out a second longer.

“Now hero. Cum now!”

“...nuh...NUH....NUUUUUUGGGHHHHNNNNNN!!!!!!”

Wonder Woman’s body freezes in mid-arch, her thighs thrown wide apart, her mouth gaping open, her pleasure spraying out from around the dildo buried in her snatch. The world sees her climax. The cameras record it forever: the pelvis thrust upward, the arc of droplets, the tightly rubber clad body gleaming like a statue to pleasure personified.

Seconds after her titanic climax, a grinning Pascal methodically starts up his piston-like actions again with the two dildos still embedded in the drooping beauty.

“...no...stop...it....it’s too....much....”

“Of course it is, my pet. It is meant to be.”

Hanging in weak confusion, Wonder Woman can only flail and sway as Pascal continues to thrust and withdraw the dildos into the defenseless beauty’s holes. The suit’s stim pads concentrate the heroine’s complete attention on her orifices and she can do nothing but succumb.

“...please...no more....no.......mmuh....muuuhh.....MUUUUNNNGGHHHHH!!!”

The second torrent of cum isn’t quite as forceful as the first but a generous flow of it rushes out of from between Wonder Woman’s wildly twitching thighs, surging past the dildo to create a hefty resurgence of Amazon Falls. The slippery essence cascades to the white tile floor, adding significantly to the glimmering lake below.

“Ahh. I knew you had it in you, cherie. Now it is time to rest a bit. Let me take this blindfold off so I can see those pretty blue eyes of yours.” The blindfold comes off in seconds, tossed aside, it’s work done.

Completely exhausted from her two huge climaxes, as well as those two others just 25 minutes previously, Wonder Woman’s baby blue eyes are heavily lidded now. The cameras catch the sunset of her lids as the pupils roll up and the lids fall down. The Amazon beauty is old cold.

“Magnifique! We are nearly there, my pet.”

Pascal begins his pleasant chore of disentangling the unconscious rubber-clad figure from the plastic harness before he will move her over to the tan sweat-stained leather cushion of his superheroine-killing choke table.

Once she’s laid out face down on the white tile floor, Pascal gently withdraws the two vibrators from Wonder Woman’s pussy and her rectum, each one drawing a low subconscious moan from the beautiful heroine as it’s pulled from each tight orifice. The Frenchman smiles as he walks the two sex toys over to the built-in sink at the corner bend of his workbench. Holding them over the drain, he rinses them with running water and wipes them with a nearby rag before replacing them in the utility drawer he’s set aside for sex tools.

Many a lovely virgin had been invaded, clamped, whipped and teased by the variety of tools in the oversized drawer. Even superheroines now were included on the list of experimental subjects he’d worked with using these devices. And all the women from naive college coeds to overconfident defenders of truth and justice had succumbed to his insightful methodologies, his brilliant formulae and his deft touch. There was no one he couldn’t bring to the satisfying conclusion of his experimental regimen. His hypotheses were now facts. His techniques were sound. His results proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. His neural receptor formula was without equal. He was, without any doubt, Nobel material. All that was left was the presentation ceremony in Stockholm.

That bitch Destiny had destroyed so much of his work but with Wonder Woman out of the way at last, the Frenchman reflects, by tomorrow he could begin the task of recreating his research notes so he could submit his thesis to the Nobel committee as soon as possible.


Not having found any means to get into the basement they know is there from the dark windows they peered through when outside the house, Sal and Jimmy have been forced to check upstairs for any access. In the sparse bedroom on the second floor, they stand before the elevator doors, musing about what to do. Pushing the call button hasn’t worked. The two detectives look at each other and grimace.

“We’re going to have to pry these doors open manually,” Sal says.

“It’s the only way I can see to get down to the basement,” Jimmy concurs. “I know there’s some kind of secret entrance but for the life of me, I can’t find it.”

“Sure wish we could. I don’t like the idea of shimmying down a cable in the dark.”

“Oh, it won’t be dark. I’ll leave my pen light on and clip it to my belt.”

“What a pal. Get that other door and pull, let’s see if we can get these damn things apart,” Sal says, grabbing the thin rubber seal between the two doors.

“On three,” Jimmy says, gripping the door edge from his side. “One...two...three!”

Grunting and straining the two men slowly pull open the elevator doors, inch by inch until they’re about two feet apart. Peering down into the darkness, Sal asks Jimmy to turn on his penlight and the detectives stare down the empty shaft. The roof of the elevator cab reflects some light but it’s hard to see.

“How long is that drop you think?”

Jimmy calculates and replies, “About 30 feet or so, I’d say.”

“A fall from there might kill us,” Sal suggests.

“Only one way to find out. Wonder Woman’s waiting. Come on.”

“For a guy who didn’t want to get killed rushing into things a while back, you’re awfully eager.”

“It’s no worse than climbing the rope in high school gym class,” Jimmy says, grabbing one of the cables.”

“I don’t know about your school but they didn’t grease the ropes in ours,” Sal says, reluctantly reaching for the cable as Jimmy descends into the darkness below.

“That’s ‘cause you went to a high school for pussies.”

Sal just grimaces as he grips the slick cable with tight white knuckles and follows Jimmy down into the blackness. He doesn’t even insult his partner for forgetting to let him go first so his flashlight could shine down on Sal’s progress. He just makes his way carefully down the cable, his hands and legs wrapped around the thick steel line with a death grip.


Wonder Woman’s arms dangle loosely, swaying gently back and forth as Pascal cradles her in his arms and carries her over to his table. His hands support her mid-back and behind her knees but her head hangs back, neck arched with her mouth gaping open. Her eyelids remain closed with her chest thrust upward. Her excited nipples still stretch out the clear rubber encasing them. Her ample ass hangs low as Pascal makes his way over to the table. He rests her cheeks down on the thin leather mat covering the table and gently lowers the rest of her limp body onto it. Her arms drop off the edge of the table, her hands just over a foot off the tile floor. Wonder Woman’s feet flop apart, the rubber-sealed toes pointed in opposite directions. The famous heroine is still out cold. The slick film from the Amazon’s massive climax rubs off from the slick rubber encasing her ass onto the stained leather, marking it anew with the essence of a heroine’s defeat.

Moving deftly but gently so as not to awaken the heroine before he’s ready, Pascal cautiously snaps separate sets of handcuffs hanging off the corners at the head of the table around Wonder Woman’s wrists, first the left and then walking around the table to do the right. Both arms still hang down with the heroine’s palms facing the table legs.

Pascal then lifts up the beauty’s legs and pulls them up and over so her ankles are situated next to her ears. He fits the third pair of cuffs around her left ankle and finally the fourth pair around her right, clicking them softly shut in turn one after the other. This awkward position has Wonder Woman moaning, the disturbance causing her to struggle through to consciousness. Working quickly now, Pascal unhooks one end of the molybdenum chain and lays the glistening metal rope over the exposed neck of the stirring heroine before he hurriedly reaches over and connects it to a hook on the opposite side of the table. Everything is now set and Pascal roughly pats the disoriented woman’s cheek three times, declaring, “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Rest time is over.”

“...uuuughhhh....ohhh.....whuh...?....what....?...”

“Your big moment has arrived, cherie. Time for the final phase of the experiment.”

“...experiment...?...” Wonder Woman tries to focus her thoughts but she’s exhausted. “...wh...what experiment...?”

“The experiment I have been conducting on you since you arrived here late this morning, my dear. The experiment that proves even the mighty Wonder Woman can be reduced to a helpless, mental pygmy by my neural suppression solutions, both chemical and electrical; and that with a proactive approach to reducing your remarkable physical abilities via coordinated resistance procedures, you can ultimately be restrained and dominated to lower than human levels of energy.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Gary says. “I thought he just liked fucking superheroines.”

“Oh no. Steve, the police, they’re not there yet!” Etta grips his shoulder tightly and stares at the screen in shock. Wonder Woman is shackled to the table wearing nothing but a rubber catsuit with all her feminine aspects on display. Who would have ever imagined such a sight would be feasible?

“There’s still time. There has to be.” Steve’s face is like carved wood. His eyes are locked on the woman of his dreams about to be violated yet again by another man: a woman he had yearned to ravage for years but suppressed. The emotions swirling through the IADC major are confused and nasty and frightening. He is aghast at his envy, frustrated and angry at the banquet of feminine charms presented before him that he cannot reach, cannot have, cannot save. He wipes his sweaty palms on the arms of his chair.

“...you...will pay...fhur this.....pascal...” slurs the captive beauty as she angrily pulls up her arms until they’re jerked to a stop by the handcuffs behind her head. She flexes her thighs and tries to kick out from the leg cuffs but she remains held firmly in place, her incredible body pinned to the table and sealed in clear rubber. Both her orifices are boldly exposed, the two seals dangling open, cool air brushing across her labia and her rectum. With one last monumental jerk of her arms and legs, Wonder Woman moves to snap the cuffs with a final, supreme superhuman effort of her legendary Amazon muscles.

But there is no superhuman ability left in the famous heroine.

Pascal has made sure of that. Absolutely sure. He glances down at the resistance meters attached to the ends of the four sets of handcuffs and smiles. There isn’t even enough energy to qualify for a normal human effort for a woman of her size and weight. The numbers register the physical strength of a seven year old child.

“The time for all that bluster is over, Wonder Woman. I am going to conclude my experiment whether you approve or not. I have meticulously arranged everything so you have no ability to stop me, cherie.” Pascal unzips his fly as he stands by the table looking down at the heroine he’s secured like a turtle on it’s back.

“...the police...” Wonder Woman declares, her voice desperate with urgency..

“...will be dealt with,” Pascal cuts her off. “If they even show up. Now stop playing hard to get, cherie. We both know you love the feel of a man’s cock filling your ass. I am just giving you what you desire.”

Bending down, he pulls a mechanism under the table and the leaf drops down, giving the Frenchman the ability to walk right up to Wonder Woman’s rear. He does so, with his cock in hand, it’s length growing, the shaft stiffening as the man anticipates the pleasure he’s about to receive.

“...that’s not...true...”

“Please, my dear, lying does not do justice to the heroine you are supposed to be. The world has seen you scream with pleasure when I sodomized you before. They all know the truth. Accept the fact, hero, that the planet now knows that Wonder Woman truly loves taking it up the ass. You also just proved beyond any doubt that you adore giving out blowjobs. And earlier, you came like a fire hose with my dick in your cunt. Unless I am mistaken, that covers all the major orifices, whore. Now it is simply a matter of degree. Shall we see if you enjoy the fine art of asphyxiation, champ?”

“...no...don’t...please....don’t..! You...you p...proved everything....all you set out... to prove,” Wonder Woman’s voice is unnaturally high as she protests. She doesn’t fight her need to beg, to stall, to play for time but she hates herself for having to do it in front of the cameras. In fact though, the fear is making her sweat more than the hot fluorescent fixture suspended over her head. “Listen, Dr. Pascal. You’re right.. I....I...admit it. I d...d..do...like sex. I’m like any healthy woman. I enjoy g..giving...oral sex...”

“Blow jobs. Call them what they are, slut. Do not try to fancy up the wording. Say it.”

“...blow jobs..” Wonder Woman whispers. “I enjoy giving blow jobs.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, lady,” Roger calls out to the tv and Jamal breaks into a huge grin at this, fist pounding the businessman in the process.

“And you love taking cock up the ass,” prompts Pascal, looking down expectantly at the woman bound with her genitals on full display. “Say it.”

“...y..yes...ilovetakingcockuptheass.”

“Oh no, Princess. Much slower. Much louder.”

Wonder Woman announces it to the world through gritted teeth. “I LOVE TAKING COCK UP THE ASS.”

Steve drops his head in his hands. Etta pulls up a second chair and drops heavily into it, her face flushed, her head shaking in disbelief.

The group in the bookstore erupts in cheers and another round of high fives.

“Excellent. That is exactly what everyone wanted the Champion of All Woman to finally admit. My work is almost done here.”

“Look, Pascal. You’ve won. Let me give you that...” the heroine hesitates for a second “...blow job. I’ll be the way you want the world to see me and you get to enj ..AAUUWLGGK!”

The thin metal chain around Wonder Woman’s neck draws tight with a sudden jerk that chokes off her air and cuts her voice to a harsh squawk.

“Hush, my pet. I will take exactly what I want from you and it is certainly not a blow job. Just relax now and let the experience engulf you,” Pascal soothes. He smooths away a loose tangle of hair from her forehead with one hand as his other guides his hard cock through the hole in the rubber catsuit and against the tightly clenched opening of Wonder Woman’s rear.

“Nuh! Pleez,” rasps out the choking champion, her eyes wide, “No....need...fuh thizz..” The chain makes it nearly impossible for Wonder Woman to speak.

“Of course there is, my sweet, now unclench that sphincter like a good girl. It won’t hurt as much that way.”

“Nnuuhh! Noohh.” Defiant now, the Amazon struggles and strains against the chains holding her to the table. She jerks and bucks like a cornered wildcat.

“Calm yourself, champ. Remember what is at stake here, yes?”

“Fugk yooh!” The wheezing woman almost spits when the words leave her mouth.

She’d been a fool. There was no depth of humiliation this prick would not subject her to. Hers would not be a death with dignity. She should have known it all along. Steve had abandoned her. The police had never arrived. She was on her own and had given up every advantage she might have had. Every escape possibility had been pissed away through a misplaced sense of honor and a warped concept of courage. Diana is furious at herself and the world. She funnels all her hate, all her rage into her muscles and strains her mighty legs against the thin steel of the cuffs holding her ankles beside her head. Everything she is and everything she has ever been she puts into the effort. Her calf muscles rise and ripple like steel bridge cables in a high wind. Her red face is a mask of concentration. Her will is focused on straining the links in the steel cuffs to their limit, to snapping them like stale pretzels. Wonder Woman strives with everything in her being to be the very symbol of the Olympian gods on earth!

She can’t do it!

The day’s toll has been too great. The fights, the wounds, the constant sexual attacks, her own orgasms have all stripped her of the power she needs to break free. And the choking chain around her neck retracts by another crucial link pressing deeply into the skin of her throat.

“EHHHHGHHKKKK!”

“It seems we are doing this the hard way,” Pascal says, his left hand no longer gently caressing her forehead but now holding a clump of Wonder Woman’s hair in a clenched fist. “Just as well. I prefer it that way.” The eyes of the scientist are not cold and calculating but gleaming with lust.

His right hand ensures the tip of his dick is centered exactly on the balloon knot buried in his writhing captive’s ass-crack. He thrusts himself forward and the sweat and cum that is smeared over the Champion of All Women’s rectum makes it easy for the cold-hearted Frenchman to impale himself deep into the female’s ass. Her clenching sphincter is no challenge at all to his hard rod.

“UUNNFF!”

“Honey. I’m home.”

Her arms pull, the cuffs’ links jangle and Wonder Woman wheezes desperately through a severely constricted throat as Pascal pulls and pushes his shaft within the Amazon’s ass. He savors the heat and wonderfully tight friction of her rear passage gripping his steely length. After several times of driving deeply into her core and pulling out, the slow pace Pascal has set speeds up; much faster than planned. Her body is too enticing to bear, her helplessness too heady to ignore, her wheezing hot breath and wild eyes too invigorating to withstand.

He lets go of her hair and with his dick firmly plunging into and withdrawing from her rear, the besotted Frenchman clutches at Wonder Woman’s tits with both hands, fondling them with pure delight. The massive breasts heave and give. Within their rubber casing, their shapes mold and shift within his grasp even as the mighty Amazon warrior’s chest rises and falls in hard, heavy pants for breath that will not come.

“Try not to panic, cherie. It shortens the amount of time you have left. And it reduces the full pleasure I derive!”

“....bhaasturd...” the quaking, jerking heroine rasps.

“Oh my god, Steve. What do we do? That chain is choking her to death. Look at her face. Her eyes!”

Wonder Woman’s tongue falls out of her mouth and her eyes bulge fiercely as her throat is completely constricted by the molybdenum chain retracting one link every twenty seconds. Her arms and legs quake with tension as they strain helplessly against the steel cuffs holding her down on the table. Sweat drains out of the pussy hole and runs in tiny wandering streams down her pelvis and onto the stained leather mat that has been a silent partner in the death of dozens.

“AAAAGGGKKK!”

“Are you feeling pleasure from my penis, Wonder Woman? Or are you too absorbed by the reality of your impending death to enjoy yourself?”

“....hehhhlp.....hera....heppppp...”

“Your goddess cannot assist you here. Not now. Your days are over, Amazon. You are my prize, my conquest.”

Wonder Woman’s vision begins to darken, the world contracting around her to just Pascal’s face leering down on her. His body weight presses upon her, his lust possessing him as he begins to saw frantically at her rear now, letting himself lose his control. The end is very near for her and his climax is building wonderfully. He is minutes away. It will be a race to see if she breathes her last before he cums or if he can time it to her precise moment of expiration: his ultimate fantasy and purest goal.

“You see now how futile it has all been for you, Wonder Woman, don’t you. I have mastered you completely. There is nothing left for you to do but...

“Don’t move a muscle, Pascal. Not any muscle!” Sal Abato’s deep voice rumbles in the Frenchman’s ear even as the muzzle of his gun presses to his temple.

“Detective, what horrible timing you have.”

“Not from my perspective, Frenchy. Now pull out of the lady or I blow your brains out.”

“OH GOD! THEY MADE IT! Etta screams her relief. “THEY FINALLY MADE IT! SHE’S SAVED!” Steve lets out the breath he’d been holding for minutes and begins to shake like a leaf.

“Wow, just in the prick of time,” Roger says at this sudden development.

Pascal immediately yanks his dick out of Wonder Woman’s ass and Jimmy shoves him aside. The tall bearded villain gets his legs tangled up in his pants dropped around his legs and he trips to the hard tile floor.

Meanwhile, Sal is trying to remove the chain from the hooks attached to the sides of the table but they’re now pulled way too tight and constricting at the same steady rate of one link every twenty seconds.

“How do I stop this choker, you prick?” Abato waves the gun at Pascal with cold menace.

“You cannot,” Pascal answers, pulling up his pants as he gets to his feet, every movement covered by Jimmy’s gun pointed directly at this chest. “It is set to automatic until it reaches a point where the link count ensures death.”

“Must be a fail safe. You’re seconds from eating a bullet, pal,” Abato declares.

“Shoot me, she still dies, copper,” Pascal says with an ironic grin. Jimmy moves to club him with his gun but Sal shouts, “Don’t. We need him.”

The gasping bug-eyed Champion of All Woman has stopped jerking on the table. Her tongue hangs limply to the side, her face is a deep purple. She is staring dully at nothing. From the crotch hole in the rubber suit a sudden splashing flow of urine erupts through the tiny opening, spraying outward onto the thighs of the heroine before draining down to the floor. The accompanying wheeze sounds very final.

“Fuck this!” Sal steps to the side of the table, carefully measures his aim and shoots the hook mechanism that pulls the choke chain. The gunshot reverberates through the room like a cannon and the molybdenum choker springs apart at the end, the long chain whipsawing off of Wonder Woman’s throat. It slaps loudly against the opposite side of the table and then recoils back across her throat with a stinging snap. This leaves a secondary red ring that begins to ooze blood. The wound will leave a noticeable scar. But slowly, the purple face begins to fade to a natural flesh tone and Wonder Woman begins to hack and cough and tear up. Sal steps forward to the table to try to comfort her while Jimmy waves his gun at Pascal.

“Give me the keys to the cuffs, Pascal. Slowly. Make a move I think is suspicious and I will shoot you in the heart. Just so we’re clear.”

“We are clear, Detective. The key is on a key ring in my pants pocket. May I get it or do you want to go fishing?”

Wonder Woman’s coughing slows down and her wheezing calms considerably as she regains some measure of oxygen and her terror abates. Sal swallows hard as he stands by this naked goddess clad only in clear rubber with all her assets pointed at him, including those huge breasts. He has to physically force himself to look the heroine in the eyes as he bends over her and smooths the sweaty hair away from her face. Those haughtily defiant blue eyes he’d seen at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum were nowhere to be seen. God, had that been just this morning? It seemed impossible. Anyway, those eyes were gone. These eyes were hesitant, completely devoid of confidence and filled with fear.

“Jimmy’s getting the keys so we can get you off this table and decent. In fact...” Sal puts his gun in his pocket, strips off his shoulder holster and lets it drop to the floor, then unbuttons his shirt. He strips it off quickly and lays it between Wonder Woman’s thighs, covering up her crotch with the dark blue cotton fabric.

“Boooo!” Gary calls out. But in a way, he’s glad the cops are there. Things were getting so much farther out of hand than he ever expected. The creep really was going to kill off Wonder Woman. Snuff porn was not his thing. A woman might be a fun sex object; hell, half of them got off on it anyway, but when you started taking lives for real, that was beyond sick.

“Very slowly, Jimmy commands. “Turn both your pockets out. I don’t care what falls on the floor. Stay standing straight up and take two steps back after emptying your pockets.”

“Of course, Jimmy. I wouldn’t want any accidents,” Pascal says following the Irishman’s orders. “You wouldn’t want to shoot a prisoner in cold blood on a nationwide broadcast, I’m sure.” A key ring falls to the floor, some change and a cell phone.

“Make him turn off the cameras,” Wonder Woman cries out, her voice catching in a sob. “Make him do it now!”

“Oh, it is much too late for that, Princess,” the bearded scientist replies spitefully. “The world has seen you in action today. Everyone knows all about you and your heroic sex drive now!”

“Shut your trap, Pascal!” Sal yells, but the Frenchman continues his tirade.

“They have seen your naked body in every conceivable position. They have watched you suck me and fuck me. You have no secrets anymore, Miss Pr...Uuughhnn!” Jimmy knocks the barrel of his gun against the side of Pascal’s head, rendering him speechless and dazed.

“That’s enough out of you, dirtbag.” Jimmy gives Sal a nervous glance while Pascal wavers stupidly in place, trying to collect himself. Jimmy steps forward and pushes the swooning scientist back two steps until he’s against the wall, his palms behind him pressed against it to keep himself upright. “One more word out of you and you’ll be taking your meals through a straw.” Jimmy presses the muzzle of his gun against Pascal’s front teeth.

“...uuuughhhh....p’lice brut..ality....” he murmurs thickly, the gun and his dizziness making him difficult to understand..

“Take it up with the judge, scum,” Sal says. “Jimmy, toss me those keys.”

A minute later, Wonder Woman, none too steady on her feet either is ushered by Sal over to an opposite wall from Pascal. Her posture is slumped, her head down, one hand is crossed across her chest, the other splays her fingers over her privates.

She whispers softly to Sal. “The cameras. Please, Sal. Make them stop. Please.” The mighty heroine is close to tears, badly shaken with nervous, darting eyes.

“Okay, Pascal, your little peep show is over, asshole,” Sal declares. “Time to turn off the cameras. Right now! Where’s the switch or control room or whatever?”

“On the floor there Detective Abato. I hope you didn’t make me break it.”

“Your cell phone? You’re doing all this through your phone?”

“I have two PhDs, detective, in chemistry and applied electrical theory. I can write an app,” Pascal smugly casts his eyes over at the now bare-chested Italian cop and then he blanches. “Merde! Do they not make you maintain some level of physical standard, Abato? I have ground rats up in a blender but that view there is making me ill.”

“Jimmy, clock him again, would you?” Abato growls at his partner.

“Nope. Like you said, we need him,” Jimmy replies. He covers Pascal carefully with his gun and walks over to pick up the cell phone. He quickly eyes the screen. It’s dark but not cracked. “Stop the show, Pascal.” He hands the cell phone to the Frenchman who slides his finger across the screen and taps a few keys.

Sal has his own cell phone out and is calling Carla in Dispatch. “Hey, Carla. It’s Sal, let me know...”

“I see you on the screen here, Sal. Thank goodness you got there when you did.”

“Let me know that this prick is true to his word and that the site’s shut down, Carla, would you?”

“There,”Pascal says. “It will shut down in five minutes, detective.”

“That’s too long,” Sal frowns. “Make it faster.”

“As you wish, Sal.” The Frenchman taps more keys.

“NO! DON’T LET HIM TOUCH....” Wonder Woman screams out hoarsely, suddenly cognizant of the danger. But its too late. The air is suddenly filled with clouds of eye-stinging, throat-clogging tear gas. The Frenchman drops to his belly and crawls like the world’s fastest baby to a box tucked under the workbench six feet away. He opens it and dons a tiny gas mask then stands up and dashes past a gasping waving Jimmy Glendennan. He gives the Irish cop a hard push that drives the redhead to the floor. Yanking open the steel door, Pascal dashes out of the lab, taking the stairs two at a time to the first floor.

“SHIT!” Sal hacks out the coughing expletive. “Jimmy, are you okay? Can you go after him? Wonder Woman’s in no shape to be left here.”

“I’m on it, Sal,” the teary-eyed partner affirms, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve as he rushes through the door to follow the fleeing Frenchman.

“Come on, Diana, let’s get you out of this room. The storeroom we came through on the way in should have clear breathable air. I hope.” He takes the heroine’s hand and pulls her through the thick clouds enveloping the lab. Groping his way to the door, he yanks it open and the pair stumble awkwardly into the storeroom shutting the door behind them. Gasping and wheezing, their eyes burning, the Italian cop and the naked, rubber-encased Wonder Woman are both bent over for a good two minutes before they get the noxious fumes coughed out and their reddened eyes begin to stop smarting so badly.

Abato is still bent over coughing up the remnants of the debilitating gas when Wonder Woman suddenly straightens up like she’d been poked. Her eyes go wide even as her breasts shake and jiggle within the confining catsuit.

“You called me Diana!”

“Huh? What? Oh, uh yeah...about that,” Abato replies, straightening up and looking into the shocked face of the Champion of All Woman, “I kind of know who you are.”

“Hera, what next? What have I done to deserve this day?”

The distraught heroine breaks down in a choking sob and collapses forward into Abato’s arms, the warmth of her skin glows through the rubber suit as she presses against his bare chest. Helplessly, Sal surrounds the weeping beauty with his arms and holds her tight. He’s hard as a steel pipe and looks at the ceiling in dismay.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer part 39