Wonder Woman’s big luscious ass is set down on the sweat-stained leather pad on the table in the middle of Pascal’s laboratory and her limp form is then gently laid out on her back. The bearded scientist then carefully lays the flaccid arms close to the sides of the exquisite naked form and then slowly and meticulously turns the unconscious woman over onto her stomach.
He’s not sure how much Wonder Woman had recuperated while he was dealing with the Irish cop but he’ll know momentarily after he handcuffs her limbs to the table, wakes her up and takes the readings from the resistance meters attached to the cuffs.
The last time he had her on the table she only had the strength of a seven-year-old girl. Based on how little force or reaction he’d gotten from her when he dealt with her in the bomb shelter room, he didn’t think the heroine had gained that much back.
Having turned the camera system back on as he’d walked out of the tiny bunker, the website has broadcast the limp heroine being carried through the storeroom to his lab. Her ass crack and pussy are on full display as Pascal makes his way back to the laboratory. And now the system is set on multiple feed cameras for this big finale.
With both cops taken out of action by his syringe work, Pascal is pleased that he can complete his final experiment with the famous Champion of All Women completely uninterrupted. The SWAT team might be out there preparing to invade his house but he knows they have procedures to follow that require time to set things up. His own automated lock down procedure had closed steel shutters on the basement windows so there won’t be any flash bang grenades coming in through that way. Looking up he sees that he’d left the door to the upstairs and the secret utility entrance open in case he’d had to run back up out of harms way. He quickly strides over to the large steel door, closes it and then locks it securely. No one is coming through that way any time soon. There’s no lock on the door into the storeroom but he crosses to a worktable, picks up a high stool and goes over to the second door and shuts that one as well. He wedges the stool under the door knob to brace it shut and prevent sudden unexpected visitors.
As he turns around from the door he sees Wonder Woman stirring, one hand on her forehead, the other dangling down with her fingertips inches off the white tile as she lets out a long low moan.
Merde! I should have secured this cow first. Now I have given myself a bit of a challenge.
From his vantage point, Pascal can see her pussy pressed flat against the leather pad. Her anus is hidden by the deep shadow of her ass crack. As it happens the software selects the camera mounted in the ceiling behind him to give the website viewers a view not too different from his angle.
“Oh my god, Steve, she’s back on the table! Wonder Woman’s back on the table! That monster has somehow managed to find her and overcome that big cop.” Etta was in the midst of buttoning her uniform skirt when she’d looked up at the monitor. The last she’d seen on the screen, Wonder Woman had been rescued and then Etta had succumbed to that incredible urge to ravage Steve. She was glad it was mutual but how on earth had things gone so badly for Wonder Woman?
“What are you talk....Oh, hell! Not again!” Steve declares, zipping his fly as he gawks at the monitor. The naked beauty he’d thought was finally safe after her endless day was now back on that horrific table and seemingly just coming around. Her arm movement is hesitant and lackadaisical even as Pascal is rapidly closing in on her from where he stood ten feet away. “Wonder Woman! Get up! Look out behind you!” Steve shouts uselessly at the monitor.
Pascal feels in the right pocket of his jacket and wraps his hand around the syringe and several bottles there but as he strides toward the dazed figure on the table, the shifting weight in his left jacket pocket brings a smile to his face. He lets go of the medical items and reaches into his other pocket with his left hand and pulls out a heavy chunk of metal: his brass knuckles. They’d been buried under the handheld camera and he’d completely forgotten about them.
Fitting them neatly onto his right hand, he steps up toward the body of the befuddled Amazon as she turns toward the presence she senses behind her, the cascade of air brushing against her naked nipple lifting off the smelly pad.
Her eyes widen even as she sees the glowing arc through her blurred vision coming at her. “Noo!” She shouts, trying to throw her left arm up to block the swiping arc coming straight at her face from only inches away. Her arm is too slow and weak and the arc of golden color shunts it off to the side with a sting of pain before connecting with her jaw. Her teeth snap together with a noticeable click even as her body goes tumbling off the table and onto the hard white tile floor. She falls on her back, face up, both arms flung out wide, her hip twisted and her legs entangled, with her ankles crossed.
Wonder Woman’s vision, blurry before, goes completely white as she swoons on her back. Her irises roll up deep into her head and her hips and hands jerk in a jangle of nerves from her battered skull.
“Damn it!” Steve is raging at the monitor. “What the fuck happened? They’d freed her! How did she screw this up?”
“Screw it up?” Etta snaps waspishly, turning toward Steve with a cold glare. “You think this is her fault!”
“I don’t....no...it’s not that,” Steve replies, reining his temper in. “It’s just....I’m not used to seeing her...like...well...she’s usually just so much better than this!”
“That poor, poor soul...” Etta looks at the wilted figure being hoisted back on the table by the grunting Frenchman. She watches with a frown, her hand on Steve’s shoulder as he collapses into his office chair. Together they watch as the white-eyed Wonder Woman is rolled onto her belly and her wrists and ankles secured to the table legs with handcuffs by the methodical Pascal. Is he actually humming the Marseillaise? As if people needed any more reasons to resent the haughty French without this prick humming their national anthem.
“There we go, cherie. Right back to where you belong,” coos Pascal as he clicks shut the final handcuff onto the weakly straining wrist of a very disoriented Wonder Woman.
“...nuhh...nnuh...dun’t....pleez...stop it...no...go way...”
Pascal is smiling. He’ll check the meters for her resistance levels but the famous heroine seems even weaker than when he had her on the table before.
He slaps her ass and sets it to wobbling as he then squats down and coos into her ear.
“This lovely rear of yours is about to be spread and fucked for a final time, mon amie. I trust you are ready?”
“...no...please...don’t....want...to be...fucked...not again...noooo...” she whines. Things had been better! She’d been rescued! She’d been comforted and held. Now she was back in the hands of this monster. How had that happened? How had she and Sal let it happen? And where was Sal? Would he save her ag.... “Aaghh!” she yelps as she feels her rear end goosed. Very deeply!
Pascal’s right hand has reached between her cheeks and probed against her anus with his forefinger. His left hand now tilts the resistance meter fastened to the handcuff. All the power of a four year old child he notes. He angles the meter a bit to be sure and then beams with glee at this. With his other hand, he roots around a bit deeper into her asshole which causes his smile to dim.
“Hmm. Pretty dry in there! Did your wop friend not get you excited enough, slut. Did you crave my large cock instead? Did you pine for me as you fucked him, Wonder Whore?”
Pascal stands up and looms over her back as Wonder Woman looks at the white tile floor and sees her tears fall to its glistening surface in the lights.
“...wasn’t...like that...you...rat face...pig....”
“No, I’m sure it was all chocolates and flowers. But the fact remains,” he pulls his finger out of her anus and quickly swipes it into her pussy. It comes away slightly wet and he smirks at this new information, “your pussy’s not even that slippery. I think it was a pity fuck, you sorry cow.”
“...it wasn’t like that....not at all...” murmurs the obliterated heroine tearfully... “...it was compassion...you...azhole...but...you wouldn’t...understand... not...in a million....years...” Wonder Woman strains at the shackles that secure her face down on the table but she’s far too exhausted to achieve anything but a dull rattle of metal on metal.
“Tell you what, Princess, I will make you a deal.” Pascal bends down and whispers in her ear, too softly for anyone watching the website to hear him. “I’ll let you live if you announce to the world your secret identity.”
Diana stops struggling, freezing in place, contemplating her fate. She could get out of this. She could live. She would just have to let go of her one last secret. What would be the harm at this point? Really?
“Think about it, cherie,” Pascal says, straightening up before casually adding, “While you do, I am going to get us some anal lubricant. I like a nicely-greased ass when I fuck.”
“...that’s what....all your boys....tell me...” answers Wonder Woman thickly.
The sudden hitch in Pascal’s step is noticeable but he continues walking to the end of the room to the workbench drawer where he stores his sex paraphernalia.
Captain Joe Meyers checks the house plans laid out on the bench inside the SWAT van. The dark-haired six-foot -three leader of the Special Weapons Assault Team is scowling heavily as he leans closer to inspect them slowly under the goose neck fluorescent lamp. He runs his finger across the blueprint of the first floor of the brick townhouse just outside the vehicle.
“These are bullshit,” he says to the shorter red-headed man looking over his shoulder. “Based on what that website shows, that basement is twice the size of what these plans show. He must have enlarged it since. Probably not even up to code.”
“What are you going to do, cite him for a code violation? We’re a little past that, Captain.”
“If sarcasm is the best you’ve got Agent Bannon, then I’d appreciate silence so I can plan this operation on my own without the bureau’s help.”
“This is a bureau operation as of right now, Captain Meyers. The Director considers this a kidnaping case and as such, jurisdiction is now under the FBI. So you clear all plans through me.”
“Peachy,” growls Meyers, “but if you don’t pipe down, my concentration suffers and people could get killed. Give me ten minutes here. I’m going to review this tape and sketch out a more accurate representation of what we’re facing in there for my men.”
The five-foot-ten Agent Carl Bannon stays where he is for a moment, just looking closely into Meyer’s eyes.
“Please, Agent,” the SWAT Captain adds with earnest conviction but softer. “Let me do my job.”.
“I’ll be out there,” the bureau man says then taps the plans with his forefinger. “Ten minutes. We’re running out of time for that woman in there. We both know this guy’s not working with a full deck.”
“It’s a stacked deck I’m worried about,” answers Meyers gravely. “He’s got booby traps in there. We’ve both seen them.”
“Yeah, he’s setting all the rules. For now. Let me know if you need anything for your plan. We’ve got no budget restrictions on this. That’s from the top.”
“That’s something at least. I’ll let you know. I may have to use our armored assault vehicle. In fact, shit...AYERS!” he shouts out the back of the van, “GET ON THE HORN AND HAVE THEM DRIVE ‘PROUD MARY’ DOWN HERE! I NEED HER AS OF YESTERDAY! IS THAT CLEAR, SERGEANT?”
A voice from the darkness behind the van replies with a snappy “Yes sir, Captain.” Meyers then grabs a yellow legal pad and starts to sketch his own plan of how he believes the basement is actually configured. His pencil flies across the yellow sheet and he occasionally hits the rewind button on the tape or refers to the live feed of the laboratory on the monitor above him showing the website. He barely registers that the “fibby” agent has left the van. He shakes his head angrily at the view of the solid steel door in the corner of the lab. “Mother-fucking mad scientists. Why me?”
“My guess is he asked her to give him a blow job willingly,” Jake suggests as the foursome debates what kind of deal Pascal whispered to the helpless naked heroine chained to the table.
“She already did that, man,” Jamal replies. “This has to be something bigger than that.”
“Some hugely sick sex act, no doubt,” Gary chimes in. “Something that makes the Kama Sutra look like a kid’s picture book. Something that even an Amazon would have trouble contorting for.”
“Yeah, no, I don’t think so,” Roger offers. “I don’t think it’s even sex he’s referring to, much as I applaud your imagination, my oversexed companion.”
“Me?” Gary turns and glares at Roger. “You’re in here whining like a two-year old if your subscription to Jigglin’ Jugs! isn’t here exactly on the dot and I’m the one whose oversexed?”
“Point taken, sir. But nevertheless, I think he’s after something else.” Roger rubs his chin deep in thought. “If I had to guess, I’d say some huge secret she’s keeping. Like the location of her island home or some government code or something. You know, it could be that very same thing we were discussing earlier this evening. The whole reason she let him do everything to her.”
“Like her secret identity or Superman’s weakness or something like that,” Jake adds.
“Kryptonite, genius. Everyone knows that,” Jamal shakes his head.
“Think she’ll give it up? Whatever it is he wants?” Gary poses the question on everyone’s mind.
“Everyone’s got a breaking point,” Roger says. “Sure seems like Wonder Woman is past hers. I’d guess yes.”
Laid out on the carpet in the second floor hallway, Jimmy Glendennon’s eyelids twitch and then flutter and then slowly open. There is a low moan as the Irish detective looks at the white ceiling over his head.
Did anyone get the number of that truck?
Clumsily he props himself up on both forearms and shakes his head to clear it.
“Man that was...” He stops talking in mid-sentence as his eyes roll up under his lids and he collapses heavily back onto the carpet. Shaking his head? A bad move. The worse. The blackness circles around him and snatches him back.
Pascal walks back towards the table holding a weakly struggling Wonder Woman. Her arms and legs pull at the handcuffs holding her tight but she might as well save her strength for all the good it does her. The Frenchman has completely eliminated every one of her god-given powers and reduced her mental strength to that of a mewling little girl. Even now she whimpers as she sees the bearded scientist approach her. He is holding a tube of Butt Lover Extra! in one hand and squeezing out a stripe of the gleaming pinkish gel onto the forefinger of his right hand.
“Well, cherie, have you decided to accept my deal?” He is poised in front of the captive beauty who doesn’t even raise her head to look at him. She leaves it resting with her cheek on the thin leather pad and staring at the glass shelves filled with beakers, bunsen burners, test tubes and other lab necessities.
“...don’t trust you....”
“I assure you, Wonder Woman, that I will keep my word and let you live if you do as I ask.” His fingertips rub together, circulating the ointment around and over themselves in a slow calm process as he stands over this naked goddess negotiating one extra grand humiliation.
“...your word....not worth the toilet paper...to scrape it up with...”
Pascal’s beatific smile turns into a growling glare. “Really? Heroism at this late juncture, Wonder Woman? A little overdue for that from a woman who has eagerly pleasured my cock with her mouth, her cunt and her ass, n’est ce pas?”
The fist wrapped in brass knocks Wonder Woman’s head to the left with a jolt and it stays there, her temple bleeding from the blow.
“So the hard way it is to be! Alors! Then let it begin.”
Pascal walks around to the feet of the prostrate Princess of Themyscira, spreads her cheeks with fingers of his left hand and jabs his greasy forefinger deep into her butthole.
“..hhssssss!” The heroine feels the finger rotating in her rectum, spreading slippery cool gel all around the inside of her passage and then as the finger pulls out, all around the inside area of her buttocks clenched around her rear entry hole. She pulls on all four handcuffs but it’s useless. A second heavy buttering of the pink gel is applied liberally inside and all around the outside of her balloon knot for easy entry.
“I am actually pleased you did not accept my offer, Wonder Woman. I would have never forgiven myself for letting you walk away from this ultimate personal achievement of mine.”
“....cornholing....a heroine..?....that’s...your life’s.....highlight reel...prick? That should... tell you...something...” mumbles the dazed champion.
“You do not give yourself enough credit, mon amie. You are a world famous heroine. Taking you down the way I so easily have sheds your glowing fame onto me.”
Pascal stops in the middle of pulling open his zipper. His dick is already expanding with the anticipation of plowing this bound beauty’s ass. He shakes his head in disbelief. After everything he’d done to her, (and he can’t even catalog it right now it’s so extensive) she still shows her will. He had broken it, several times throughout the day, but it still seemed to heal itself. Time after time. That was the essence of a hero. Not the powers. Not the light shows or the bent metal bars or the flying. It was this center core of belief in themselves and in an ultimate sense of right and wrong. The other three heroines he’d killed had possessed this core. They were not like normal people in that regard. He hated them for that.
But they WERE like every female in the way he needed them to be. Each had weaknesses to exploit. Each had a throat that could be choked. Each had a lovely round ass that could be violated. That was his core. To be able to break down even the strongest woman to her most helpless, most defenseless condition. To take her as his own possession. To fill her with his cock and show her the futility of her struggle. To take her honor, her pride, her life and leave her nothing but a dying rattle of breath no matter how much she believed in herself, her cause, her hope. Crushing all that heroism and self-love, and knowing he could fill her rear with his jizz as she breathed her last breath, well, that got him very, very hard.
“Let us see how feisty you are when you’re choking to death with your ass filled with my dick, Princess.”
“...filled...?...doubt that...Tiny...” murmurs Wonder Woman, still trying to recover from the stunning blow to her temple.
When he sees that the molybdenum choke chain is broken as he feared, shot to pieces by Abato earlier, Pascal nods at this expected occurrence and simply reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tangle of golden rope he’d picked up back in the bomb shelter. He begins working at it, untangling it and then fashioning a knot with it as he stands behind the prone Champion of All Women admiring her ass.
“You know the definition of intelligence, Wonder Woman? Being able to adapt to one’s surroundings with creative solutions. No chain available? How about using an unbreakable rope fashioned by gods?” Pascal finishes his knot: It’s a noose.
He leans over and slips it over the head of the shackled beauty, sliding it past her raven hair, past her widened eyes and down to her neck. He tightens it securely, the golden cord gleaming against her throat in the ample fluorescent light from the overhead fixture.
“I will be avenged, you filthy cur,” Wonder Woman declares as her anger over her own lasso being the instrument of her death focuses her thoughts. She knows there’s no way out of this now. Pascal had controlled things far too well all along.
“I look forward to meeting your successor, bitch. I just hope she’s more of a challenge.”
Pascal climbs onto the table, sitting on the back of Wonder Woman’s thighs and draping his legs over the sides of the table. He then bends low and says with loud, malicious glee, “Thank you though for making it so easy for me today, hero.”
He harshly yanks the noose taut, one hand on the loose end, the other pushing hard against the coil of glowing rope.
“Gghhhllkkk!” Wonder Woman’s mouth opens wide as do her eyes. She feels Pascal viciously tightening the rope against her throat even as he’s pulling it back. With her hands shackled to the table leg, the combined strain of the noose itself as well as the rope pulling back against her neck cuts off her air supply immediately.
“Oh? Too tight, cherie? What a pity.” Nevertheless Wonder Woman feels the rope slacken and wheezes out loudly in relief. Obviously Pascal is going to play with her to increase his pleasure....and then before she realizes what’s going on, the heat of the man’s penis is suddenly pressed up against her anus and violently thrust up into her ass.
“Ahh. Home sweet home,” sighs Pascal enjoying the heat of the Champion of All Women’s ass surrounding his pulsing cock. “That lubricant really does the job, doesn’t it, mon amie?”
With no more strength than a child of four, the Amazon warrior can do nothing. She pulls on the shackles in desperation but it only makes the strain against her neck worse. And despite her comment about the size of his prick, the heat and size of the familiar shaft filling her rear does send a tingle of pleasure up her spine even at this horrific moment. As if reading her mind, Pascal suggests exactly what she’s thinking.
“Feels like old times, does it not Wonder Woman? My cock spreading its delightful warmth through those compromised sphincter muscles of yours; and little old you with no powers to squeeze me out. I love the sensation. How about you?”
“Oh, what ever is the matter? Noose got your tongue?” Pascal chuckles at his lame joke as he slowly withdraws his dick out of the famous heroine’s ass until only the fat mushroom head of it remains buried in her. He rotates his pelvis, grinding the fat bulb just inside her rear entryway. The pleasure of that makes Wonder Woman whine softly in frustration at her helplessness. Pascal takes this as a sound of delight and taunts his captive.
“So, you did miss me, cherie!”
“...nuh...nnhh...no...no...didn’t...” she rasps out.
“No? Really? This loooong shaft,” Pascal says, pushing his hips forward, “plowing its way deep up into your cavity does not excite you in the least, my dear?” Pascal pulls on the noose, tightening it more and causing Wonder Woman’s head to wobble and her to gag for air.
“..okay....yes...it..d...does...” gasps out the choking Amazon. Compelled by the Lasso of Truth, she can not lie. Her will is nothing by now compared to Pascal’s.
“Explain it to me, slut.” Pascal lets up on the rope a bit, letting Wonder Woman’s head nod forward. “In vivid detail.” He hilts himself within her rear, holding onto the noose with one hand and smoothing the palm of his other hand over the soft wide curve of her right buttock before giving it a firm squeeze. Her warm flesh molds like soft dough in his hand.
“Princess!” he admonishes her like a child. “Come on! You know you have to.”
“And?” Pascal prompts her for more.
“...warm...deep...and...and...wish you....would...make it....move...now...”
“There! That was not so difficult now, was it?”
Wonder Woman begins to weep and moan as Pascal grants her wish. He withdraws and thrusts three times, savoring his conquest, the heat of her, her tightness and her woeful whimpering under his hand.
“...end this...” the Amazon suddenly pleads. “...finish me...”
“You do not call the shots here, mademoiselle, I do.” Despite what he says though, Pascal jerks the noose tight with one hand, spreads her cheeks wider with his other hand, and begins to pound away at the helpless heroine. Time is passing and his escape will be endangered if he doesn’t bring this experiment to its natural conclusion. He’s loathe to do it but he bears down, taunting her cruelly. “Still, if this is what you wish,” Pascal huffs out his gibe with a gasp as he plows away, “I cannot refuse a lady.”
Wonder Woman’s hands and ankles jerk hard in the handcuffs, sounding them off like wind chimes in Hell. Her eyes begin to bulge as the noose cuts off all her oxygen with ruthless efficiency. Her body begins to jerk and buck beneath the thrusting physique of Pascal taking his pleasure from her.
Without warning, the Amazon beauty feels Pascal’s hand slide underneath her pelvis. In the next instant, his fingers poke into the top of her pussy. His thumb and forefinger begin to roll and caress her clit with furious attention.
“Hush, my pet. Did you think I did not care about your satisfaction? I am nothing if not a gentleman.”
Pascal now begins to ride the world famous heroine’s body with incredible fervor. He pulls on the noose, humps his pelvis up and down repeatedly against her bouncing ass and diddles her twat with metronomic consistency.
“You cannot tell me,” gasps Pascal as he rocks back and forth on Wonder Woman’s sweating body, the effort making his words come in bursts, “this does not make.... your head swim.......with ecstacy, Wonder Woman....huuunnfff.... Is it the lack of air?” He grunts as he thrusts at her ass. “The pleasure? The inability....uuuuhhhh.... to affect the outcome? So hard to tell...uunnghhh.., n’est ce pas?”
Wonder Woman’s face begins to shade to purple as her tongue lolls out of her mouth and in the fog of her consciousness, she hears Pascal’s words and knows he speaks the truth. Her head is pulsing with inescapable pleasure, absolute fear, horror at her lack of control and endless shame for her inability to resist the thrill of his huge fat cock plowing her rear as her clit is teased to insanity. The Champion of All Women climaxes in the very midst of her ultimate defeat.
“UUUUUUUUNNNNNNGGGGGGGKKKKKKKK!!!!!!” Her body jerks, she grunts what seems like forever and her loins flood with the release of her absolute ecstacy.
Pascal, his scales tipped by the flushing rush of this heavenly creature orgasming beneath him, reaches his own climax. Jets of his hot seed pulse like a Jacuzzi starting up inside Wonder Woman’s ass. The sensation of his throbbing dick pulsing inside her cavity sends the wheezing, bewildered and helpless heroine into a second climax.
“...suh..suh...such a....slut...” Pascal wheezes, delighted with himself and everything. He withdraws his hand from Wonder Woman’s pussy, wipes her juices on her ass and takes a firm hold of the noose with both hands and begins the final choke out of the mighty Amazon hero.
Her face contorts in horror as any oxygen that had seeped through during the loss of Pascal’s control during his climax is ruthlessly cut off. Once more the legs and arms yank and strain to no good outcome. Once again Wonder Woman’s body hops and jerks and bumps on the sweat-stained leather pad where her sister heroines had also met their final fates. And once again, Pascal seems to know her thoughts. Perhaps the lasso constricting her neck to that of a wrinkled turkey’s is sending her last musings back to this monster.
“So now it is your turn to die, Wonder Woman, just like your not-so-powerful sisters. You! The famous heroine; so proud; so resolute; so heroic even up to the end. What does it get you, Princess? Nothing but dead like all the others. You are no threat to me or to any evil mastermind like me ever again, cherie. And you will go to your death knowing that all you stood for was for nothing. Now die, bitch! Die!”
With her tongue dangling out of her mouth and her sweating face going deep purple, the mighty Amazon Princess gives out a final rattle from her spent lungs and her eyes bulge just a bit wider, her stare looking into a future in which she no longer has a place. When Pascal finally releases her golden lasso, the heavy head of the all-too-silent champion falls to the leather mat with a thump.
“Don’t worry,” Steve says to Etta, nervously biting his lip. “She’s just playing possum. She’ll get up and give this prick the beating of his lifetime. You just watch. She’ll get up. She always does.”
“Oh, Steve,” Etta says, her eyes glistening with tears. “No, she won’t. She’s gone.”
“She isn’t I’m telling you. You don’t know Wonder Woman like I do. She’s got something up her sleeve. Some trick.”
“I think we should shut this off now. It’s upsetting you.”
“But...but we’ll miss how she escapes.... We’ll miss that. I don’t want to miss that.”
Etta shuts off the monitor and cradles Steve in her arms as he just stares at the blank screen.”
“You turned it off. Why did you do that Etta?” He looks up at her with confused eyes.
“It’s just better this way, Steve.”
The four males in the Heavenly Delights Emporium stand in shocked silence at the huge tv monitor hung on the wall. They’ve all seen it but none of them can process it: Wonder Woman is dead. Her limp body rests on the table in the Frenchman’s lab as still and unmoving as the surface on which it lies.
“Damn,” says Jamal. “Didn’t think it’d play out like that.”
“Wow, you really think she’s dead,” Jake asks. “I mean dead dead? For good?”
“I don’t see how she could have withstood that. The man was relentless and she, well, she was just too spent,” Roger replies.
Gary is still staring dumbly at the screen until he finally mumbles, “Didn’t want that. She...she didn’t deserve that.” Then he gets much louder. “What happened to the fucking SWAT team. Where are all the Justice Leaguers? HOW THE HELL COULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED?”
The joyride that the foursome had been delighting in had turned tragic before their eyes. The reality setting in harshly with sickening suddenness. “Wonder Woman_Screwed” was one thing. Wonder Woman Dead was not what they thought they were paying for. Still, all the signs were right there, the brutality, the vicious taunting, the coldness of the Frenchman. Gary is sick and ashamed. The silence in the bookstore, the hung heads and the eyes averted from the screen by Jake, Jamal and Roger combine to make this a moment that Gary will never forget.
The men in the bookstore continue to watch the screen, as do all those around the world still tuned into the website, those who’ve not clicked off, those who are entranced and unable to tear themselves away from the defining moment in history when a legend fell.
Pascal gets off the table, pulls his penis out of the lifeless figure and puts it back in his pants. He takes the handheld camera out of his pocket, focuses it on the rear end of the motionless Wonder Woman. He then keys his phone to make the hand-held camera the live feed for the website. Slowly he zooms in on the shadow between the wide cheeks of the motionless figure. He presses a button on the camera and the camera’s lamp lights up the scene, turning the shadow into a pale fleshy crevice. Pascal’s hand moves aside one of the heavy cheeks and zooms in closer, bringing the heroine’s anus into clear view. There is a fat glob of thick white pasty fluid slowly oozing out of Wonder Woman’s butt onto the stained leather pad, adding to the record of misery embedded in the cowhide.
“There she is, people. Your mighty hero screwed as promised. Screwed for good. Screwed forever. Her big beautiful rear end dribbling out my cum. Here she is in her final moment of glory on earth: the acclaimed Champion of All Women leaking semen from her ass in front of the entire planet.” The Frenchman backs up step after step as he slowly zooms out until he gets Wonder Woman’s still form in a full shot. The naked body of one of the most famous heroines on the planet lies in limp futility, a corpse now. Pascal closes with a final taunt. “I hope you enjoyed the show featuring the incredible, the amazing, the beautiful and unbeatable Wonder Woman! As it turned out though, she really was not that wonderful, was she?” He pauses. “Or unbeatable. Hmmm. Who would have thought? Oh well, I simply must dash. Thank you one and all for making me a multi-millionaire. Good night, world.” Pascal gives Wonder Woman’s ass one final stinging slap that sends her cheeks wobbling like matching jello molds, then keys his phone one last time and the website switches to the home screen of the optional photo sets still available for purchase. Though the scientist doesn’t see it in his rush to leave the premises, the visitor count on the website begins to drop dramatically with thousands and thousands of viewers dropping off the site in just a few minutes. The phenomenon that stopped a world in its tracks is finally over.
Gary switches from the static home screen of the Wonder Woman snuff website to the streaming feed from Channel Four Action News. A concerned Heather Wells is seen listening to her producer in her earpiece, her head bowed. The audience can’t see it but her camera man is motioning wildly to her, his one arm waving frantically as his other holds the camera trained on the petite stacked blonde. He’s mouthing the words, “We’re live!” but the reporter has her head lowered as she listens intently to the voice in her ear. She’s pressing the earpiece closer with the palm of her hand.
“She is? You’re absolutely sure of that?” Heather is adamant. “It’s my ass on the line here, Pete and if you’re wrong....okay! I believe you. You know I don’t have a monit...” She looks up to see her cameraman waving and mouthing yet again the words she dreads to realize.
“We’re live?” Heather’s face shows panic for a full two seconds and then she plasters on her stock grim face for tragic news stories.
“Good evening. Thank you, Bryce. The story we’ve been following this long night about Wonder Woman in the hands of a psychologically disturbed professor....”
“Mad scientist you mean,” Gary snaps.
“...has ended in the tragedy everyone hoped would not happen. The famous Amazon heroine apparently died this evening at the hands of a French national with a dual citizenship as an American, Doctor Rene Pascal. His whereabouts are not known at this time but it is believed he remains inside the residence where Wonder Woman was murdered.”
Making her face even grimmer, Heather continues on. “The renowned heroine was strangled to death and brutally sodomized on a live web broadcast that lasted for several hours. Down the block I understand that a SWAT team from the District of Columbia has kept the house surrounded and has apparently just now forced its way through a second floor window in the back of the residence and is doing a sweep of the home. The location and condition of the two detectives that had tracked Doctor Pascal throughout the day and entered the property approximately 90 minutes ago is still unknown at this time. I’m told that the SWAT team required extensive time to formulate an attack strategy due to the existence of several booby traps located throughout the house.”
Heather pauses, listening to the voice in her ear before speaking again, “This is a very fluid situation still and it’s difficult to ascertain what is precisely going on right at this moment. When further news is verified about the condition of Wonder Woman’s body, the location of the two detectives and/or the suspect as well as the final resolution of this shocking event, we will break into your normal programming again. Standing here in Chevy Chase with crying neighbors and shocked police and rescue workers, I am Heather Wells for Channel Four Action News. Back to you, Bryce.”
“Thank you, Heather,” the tanned anchorman says gravely. “Our thoughts and prayers go out to the millions of admirers of that incredible heroine Wonder Woman and to her relatives and friends. It’s a tragic night for them and all of us. We’ll take a station break right now and be back with this continuing coverage of Wonder Woman: Hero Under Siege in a moment.”