I hope you enjoy the eighth installment of this Wonder Woman story. I look forward to your comments at firstname.lastname@example.org
The Wonder Woman character as well as Steve Trevor are the property of DC Comics. All the other characters in this story are the property of Dr. Dominator and cannot be used without permission. This story is very severe in its depiction of sexual fetishism and portrays acts of violence. It should only be read by consenting adults of 18 years or older. The story is simply meant as entertainment and is not written for profit.
Previously in Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer....
With the spasming heroine’s pussy now well-lubricated by a second application of the electrical inhibitor and her breasts shining in the open air with the chemical version, the mighty Amazon princess of Theymiscira begins to feel the effects of the taser slowly wearing off. In a few minutes, if Pascal isn’t totally vigilant, Wonder Woman thinks she’ll be able to surprise him, turn the tables on him and...and...and...
And what? Suddenly, she can’t think of what she had been planning just seconds ago. All she can think is that she’s in some kind of big trouble. And this man was the reason. And she didn’t think she’d be able to stop him. Even though she was Wonder Woman. How strange!
And now, the tale continues...
Wonder Woman lies on her right side in a small empty area of Dr. Rene Pascal’s storage room. Her exposed left breast sags into her right which is pressed up against the cold cement floor. She feels funny. Not a good funny. A bad funny. And her naked breasts feel all tingly; not from the cold cement but from something else. They’re all slimy and a bit numb. And she can’t stop herself from jerking and twitching which makes her tits shimmy and jiggle but she can’t help it. And she thinks she bit her tongue. Then she feels a tug as two pointy things are pulled from her body.
What hit me? Tazzle? Tuzor? No...not right. Taser! That’s it.
The Amazon’s thoughts are extremely muddled and her body is still not hers to command. She lies inertly, trying to think of what had been on her mind mere moments before. She can’t fetch it back now.
Befuddled and lethargic, the beautiful Themysciran’s plans for retaliation against her foe have been blown away by the neural inhibitors that have been smeared all over her breasts and fingered into her pussy. Like a vaporous cloud of mist in a stiff wind, her thoughts have been blown completely away.
And then the torpid, defenseless heroine feels Pascal’s hand slide under her left buttock. The smooth surface of the clear rubber glove rubs into her ass crack as he gently lifts up the cheek. Wonder Woman’s eyes widen as a cool rounded device of some kind is pressed against her anus. With a hole in her starred briefs where the acid ate away at them, there’s no shiny blue fabric at her crotch to foil his assault.
“...nuh...nnuuuuhhh...nnnnugghhh...” Diana groans in complaint but to no avail, her muscles are still useless to her. One calf flails to the side, the boot clumping dully against the floor. Her neck angles to the side. She can do nothing as a 5-inch-long waxy tube with rounded ends is slowly, forcibly pushed up into her rectum. It moves deeply through her rear passage, pressed high up into her ass. The pressure is only slightly uncomfortable for a moment as she feel’s Pascal’s gloved finger push it into place. Then she feels the warm digit withdrawing from her tight ass until her rectum expels it with a small involuntary contraction.
No thicker than a crayon, the cool stick is deftly lodged securely within her. His other hand releases her buttock and her cheeks slap together with gentle tremors. The beautiful Amazon’s eyes glare up at the face leaning over her but her body is still completely unresponsive, a limp mass of confusion and anger.
“There. That special enema enfeebling stick should do the trick. My own design, of course. Even your amazing Amazon strength will not be able to cope with my special cocktail of depressants and nerve agents, Wonder Woman.”
“...d...di...dom...d..damn...you...p..p...pasclarl...” Diana is barely able to voice a small, garbled measure of her frustration. Her free arm jerks to the side in helpless spasm, incoherently signaled from Wonder Woman’s shocked system. The fingers of the arm pinned under her right side twitch and tap against the floor. Unrestrained by the damaged bustier pulled down around her ribs, the beauty’s generous breasts jiggle and bounce with her tremors. The nipple of her left breast dances in the open air and the suddenly noticed red nub draws a raised, appreciative eyebrow from Pascal and a quick, circling finger.
“Ahh, a modicum of your verbal skill is returning. Not so your gross muscle coordination though. Not just yet. So let me take this opportunity while it lasts.” Pascal spits a bit of saliva on his clear, gloved forefinger, the one that hadn’t just been shoved up the Wonder Woman’s ass. He idly circles the slippery spit over and around the nipple causing it to firm up and extend slightly. Much to his delight.
“But your teat is so responsive. Look!” His finger circles even more and then he brings his thumb together with the forefinger and squeezes the firm nipple within the latex-clad digits. The bud lengthens and firms up even more. Pascal’s fingers pull and stretch out the nipple, and then pulls it slowly outward, unrelentingly stretching the breast, forming a large cone of it before letting it snap back. Then he grabs and pinches the nipple and twists it cruelly. Wonder Woman’s back jerks and she almost succeeds at pulling away from him. The Frenchman’s other hand snatches out and grabs the roll of fabric under his prey’s breasts and holds her body in check.
“Ah, ah, cherie. You are still mine to play with yet.” His hand, protected from his oily neural inhibitors by the clear latex, encircles her tit and mauls it slowly, squeezing it and plying its firm fleshy mass while the other hand keeps her figure held in place.
“...eehhnnhh...nuh..n..n..no....NO..!...” Diana is angry and frustrated and sad that she can’t fight back, that her body isn’t doing what she wants it to. Why not?
“These breasts are such a source of pride for you, Wonder Woman. So large and round. So beautifully shaped. So firm and perfect. And yet here you are, unable to protect them from my intimate caresses, my hard painful squeezing....”
“Aagghh!” Diana’s back arches from his sudden pincer-like grip, her eyes tearing with the sudden sharp torment.
“...and my playful game of peekaboo.” Pascal releases her tit and pulls up the upper edge of her bustier with both hands until the fabric unrolls and covers her breasts midway. His hands then grasp both breasts, his roaming palms fondling them and shaking them and compressing their fullness into misshapen fleshy rolls while the helpless Amazon can only lie there before her kneeling tormentor and do nothing. Finally Pascal pulls down her top again to show off just the top of both areolae. “Peakaboo,” he says in falsetto. And then, at last, he covers them up again, leaving the top there, covering up her nakedness for the moment.
Diana’s blue eyes look at him, angry and hurt and depressed in sequence. Her breasts had been played with like party balloons and she couldn’t stop it. That wasn’t nice. That wasn’t fair.
“You incompetent fat-assed has-been. There, now we have exchanged insults. Feel better? No? Ah well, you are right, this is not the time for such games. I shall conduct more experiments on your sensitivity later. And play more games. You know, it is so very astute of you, my compromised friend, to realize this is not the proper moment for such trifles. Quite astute, in fact, considering that even now the considerable heat of your unique Amazon physiology is working against you. Your anal cavity is already activating the quick-dissolving paraffin compound. It is releasing the stick’s chemicals into your bloodstream as we speak. And as that enema enfeebling stick combines with my neural inhibitors, you will go from Champion of All Women to Champion of All Addle-Brained Wobbly-Kneed Bimbos! It is inevitable, mon cherie.”
“...w...will get...you some...h...how...”
“That is very doubtful, mon amie. Now let us get you to your feet.” He pulls up on Wonder Woman’s arm, lifting the ungainly beauty to her knees where she sways in place one hand holding onto a nearby steel shelf to keep her up. She manages to grasp it with her fingers, their clasp almost clawlike as the nerves slowly relearn the proper electrical circuits from brain to body. Slowly, Wonder Woman pulls herself to a very shaky standing position as Pascal takes a step back. She is holding onto the shelving and swaying back and forth, eyes looking at Pascal but still a bit glazed. The tall bearded Frenchman stands before her in his neat suit pants, matching jacket, a white dress shirt open at the collar and no tie. His hands are held out before him with fingers spread and palms up in a gesture of openness.
“Why not try to show me how the mighty Amazon princess can defend herself against a simple French scientist with no super strength, no amazing fighting skills. Nothing but my limited understanding of boxing, eh?”
“..t..turn you into...hambur...ger...meat...”
“And I would be delighted to see you make this effort, you dumb cow,” Pascal leans into her face with a grin. “To tell you the truth, my penis grows stiff with the thought of you trying.”
Diana swings her free fist upward from her waist, aiming to get in a good surprise punch on her tormentor’s chin as his face looms a mere foot and a half in front of her own with its cold mocking leer. He sees it coming a mile away from her clearly telegraphed expression and jerky upswing. He pulls his head back quickly and Wonder Woman’s fist flies right past his face until her arm is upraised above the man’s head. He instantly pins the raised arm against the vertical support bar of the metal shelf and gut punches the unwary heroine.
Her head bangs against the shelf near her waist as she lurches downward with a harsh explosion of breath. She hadn’t been expecting his punch, his uncanny strength, his lightning reflexes. Or was she the one who was slow and weak and...and...not herself.
The punch had doubled her up but as she quickly gets her breath back, she realizes she still has her belt on and that punch surprised more than hurt. In fact, the belt seems to be transferring an extra surge of power to her, trying to compensate for all the drugs in her system. She feels herself regaining even more control of her muscles. She might be able to give this hooligan more than he bargained for. She lets go of the shelving structure that had been keeping her and straightens up and then backs up a step.
I will have to be fast and smart and sneaky. Should try and plan my punches in some good order so I can... What is that he’s got?
Pascal has reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a shiny brass object.
Brass knuckles? Oh great!
The Frenchman slips them on his right hand, steps back into an open space in the storage room and takes a fighting stance, arms out, fists up, a cold smile on his face. The brass around his knuckles gleam under the pale fluorescent light.
“So now, let me see how you will make me into the hamburger meat, Wonder Woman. I am eager to know your recipe.”
The fax machine at the IADC office beeped once with a long, clear tone indicating a message received. Out slid the paper into the carrier tray. From Interpol’s Brussels office, it noted the four companies that produced the unique chemical capable of affecting the neural pathways, the very one that had been found by Murray Banks and noted in his toxicology report. There was also a short list of thirteen companies around the world that purchased the rare chemical in the past year in any quantity. Pascal Research LLC was the ninth company on the list. Unfortunately, Colonel Trevor was indisposed in the bathroom far down the hall reading his favorite newspaper’s sports section in a stall. He did not hear the fax beep. By the time he discovers the fax’s appearance, it will be far too late to be of any worth to Diana Prince, Wonder Woman, Detective Abato, Detective Glendennan, either of the D.C. Medical Examiners or anybody of any importance whatsoever.
Wonder Woman circles slowly to her left, eyeing her bearded six-foot opponent warily. Though she is instinctively falling back on her Amazon warrior training and using the space to measure her distance and the striking range between her and Pascal, her thoughts are fuzzy and her steps are halting scuffles. She almost trips twice simply moving to the side. The Frenchman sees this and smiles at her missteps.
“Having a bit of trouble, cherie?”
“No. I am not.”
“You seemed to have faltered there.”
“You’re wrong. The floor...it’s...umm....uneven.”
“It is perfectly flat. It’s your nerves and skill that are faulty.”
“No. They’re not. I’m fine. Just fine.” Wonder Woman does a basic head feint and sudden fist jerk to test her foe’s reaction. Pascal badly jerks his head back in recoil and throws his left arm up to protect his face before putting his fists back up and circling. It’s Diana’s turn to smile now.
“You’re not good at this, are you, Doctor Pascal? You flinched badly there.”
“It was a ruse.”
“Didn’t look like it. Looked more like a...like a..panicky thing.”
“I do not fear you in the least, you big-nippled cow. I am just thinking how your teats make such excellent targets. Large, easy-to-hit punching bags.” Wonder Woman glances down at her breasts and sees that her nipples are clearly accentuated there, two prominent points beneath the red fabric of her damaged bustier. She blushes slightly. They have not retracted much from Pascal’s earlier stimulation of them. She tries to put her aroused assets out of her mind and pay attention to her foe.
The two contestants circle each other awkwardly as they move into a wider expanse of open floor in the huge storage area. Pascal is unfamiliar with physical confrontations. Wonder Woman is inundated by the neural inhibitors coating her breasts and the enema enfeebling stick slowly melting in her ass and delivering a toxic numbing stew of debilitating nerve agents and mind-numbing drugs. If not for her power belt, she would be on her hands and knees drooling in helpless confusion and total physical exhaustion. As it is, she can’t concentrate or manage her physical capabilities nearly well enough to be much of a threat. She feels this but tries to put up a brave front to her adversary.
“You’re the one who’s going to be the punching bag, Pascal. You should give up now before you embarrass yourself.”
“I’ll take my chances in a fair fight with the famous Wonder Woman.”
“Fair? You think everything you’ve done to me...my body...to my..my chest...is fair? You’re nothing but a..a..creep, Pascal. That’s what you are and I...I’m going to bring you to...to..um..jail...to take you in and...and show you what justice is....justice...for my friends.”
“That is quite a speech for someone whose mental agility is limited even at the best of times, my dear. You should be very proud that you got it all out as coherently as you did, Wonder Woman. You’re not quite the slow, dim-witted stooge I expected you would be. And, as for your friends, were you referring to those three pitiful brain-dead skanks that I fucked like cheap whores and then killed on a whim? Oh, gosh, were they friends of yours? I did not realize.”
Pascal’s eyes shine with malicious intent. He’s enjoying his taunting of the Amazon immensely. Her face is tense now, rigid with horror and concentration as she stares at him and stops circling for a moment, transfixed in her shock.
“Because, you know, cherie, when I was forcing my cock down their superheroine throats, they failed to mention that. But I should have known it since they were so pitifully inept at fighting. So easy to defeat and humiliate. So simple to fill their mouths, asses and cunts to dripping excess with my cum loads. Did you help train them, Wonder Woman? I would hope not.”
“You...You animal! You filthy....disgusting...perverted...bad...bad....man.....” Wonder Woman’s body is a tense coiled spring, ready to strike out in rage. But she just stands there, quivering with outrage.
“Are you going to throw an actual punch or just continue your childish verbal sparring, you drippy cunt?” Pascal sees Wonder Woman’s eyelids flicker and droop slightly as the steady influx of toxins in her system assaults her senses. He goads her further with a nasty leer. “Come on, you overrated moronic twat, just try to avenge the sweet, lingering ass-plowing I delivered to your three bungling heroine girlfriends! I don’t think you can do it.”
Wonder Woman lunges forward, her dulled mind flooded with rage and hate at the words of this callous monster. She aims to beat him to a pulp. But the French scientist has baited the mentally-impaired Amazon beautifully. As she rushes at him with her fists clenched tightly and arms swinging wildly at his head, her Amazon training all but negated by his drugs and his taunts, he lowers his left shoulder and turns it to her, ducks his head and drives his arm like a karate punch with all his force into her solar plexus just as he’d practiced with Battle Axe for hours. He might not have been able to train out the bad flinching that he suffered but his fist strike had definitely been well-honed.
The hard brass knuckles and ramrod fist slam with incredibly focused force into Wonder Woman’s mid-section with a resounding thump of metal striking vulnerable flesh.
“GHHUUUNNNFFFFF!” Wonder Woman bends in half, falling backward onto her rear end, with her legs flying up and her back flopping back in awkward gasping pain. Even as her feminine treasures blink with a flashing gleam of pink in her ungainly sprawl, her head strikes against the hard concrete floor. All the air has been driven right out of her lungs and she lies in place with her eyes bulging, her arms curled over her belly and a high whistling wheeze filling the air. A normal person would have been completely disabled by such a crushing blow. Dazed by the knock to her head and recovering from the punch, Amazon warrior sucks in air and gathers her minimal wits and raises her head to look at Pascal dancing on his toes back and forth, beaming with delight and eyeing Wonder Woman’s exposed pussy
“Yes, I put you on your back with one punch, bitch. How do you like that, you sanctimonious cow?” Pascal stops his dancing and puts his hands on his hips, imitating her power pose.
“I’m just so pretty!” Pascal tosses out a passable Muhammed Ali impression and stands there glowing with satisfaction.
“...eeeeezz....hoooooooop....eeeeeezz....” After about 20 seconds of wheezing, a debilitated Wonder Woman finally gets her breath back and raspily gives her answer as she sits up. “...l...luck....lucky punch...you...cheater.....”
“Hardly lucky, you fat sow. I have been training for you, Not-So-Wonderful Woman. You can’t touch me, cherie.”
Diana pulls herself to her knees and then to a wobbling uneasy stance before Pascal who’s back to dancing on his toes again, bobbing left to right, showing off. Her left hand massages circles on her stomach before she finally gets into an attack position, presenting the least body target possible, standing with her side to Pascal, arms cocked, fingers pointed forward into hard spades, ready to jab outward. It would be an imposing sight if the Amazon weren’t wavering awkwardly, her eyes dull, her hair in disarray, her nipples once again showing over the sagging fabric of her badly-damaged bustier and her tongue overlapping her lower lip with a dopey expression on her face.
“...ya...won’t...catch me like that...like that.again...F....F..,Frenchy...” she stammers. She feels the draft on her nipples and pulls the fabric up to cover them. Then to counteract that embarrassment, she tries for a daunting effect and jabs her left hand out and withdraws it quickly. In doing so, she ineptly pokes herself in the ribs with her own elbow.
“..ughh...” she grunts and frowns. Pascal puts on a fake pout and steps back.
“I can see that I am going to have to be at my very best to meet such a challenge as yours, my dear. Tres formidable!” He concludes in sarcastic French. “Very well, come teach me my manners.”
“No, I don’t think so, fuzz-face.”
That’s not a good insult at all! I used to be so much better at this. Why can’t I get it together here?
“No, Pascal, you...uh...you come to me...if you dare challenge the....the might... yes, the might...of an Amazon.”
“But that would be madness!” Pascal’s eyes twinkle. “Still, I cannot resist a challenge so boldly stated by one so clearly ravished. No, sorry, so ravishing!” More twinkling mirth in his eyes creates a frown on the befuddled face of the dulled beauty before him. But before she can figure out that she is the butt of his sarcasm and taunts, Pascal speaks again and takes what appears to be a hesitant step forward. “That is all there is to it, then. I shall attempt to breech your defenses and strike you down, harlot.”
Wonder Woman feels her belt sending another small jolt of strength through her. It’s not like her old self at full power but it’s a welcome flush of confidence. She straightens up slightly, wavering less, waiting to repel any attack he may launch, thinking of her options.
Have to hit him back hard. Maybe in his stomach. See how he likes it, the big bully.
Pascal steps forward again and then suddenly spins off to his left and goes for a hard left cross to Wonder Woman’s jaw, his arm lashing out directly at her face. She blocks this with an upraised right arm, her feminum bracelet flashing under the overhead light as his blow is brushed aside, passing behind her head as he lunges awkwardly in his effort to connect. Diana smiles. She’s not so defenseless after all.
The right uppercut that he launches from in close she doesn’t expect, doesn’t see, and is far too late to parry. The left had been a diversion. The crunching right fist, circled in brass, connects with Wonder Woman’s jaw and her head snaps back with the force. Her pupils roll in toward the center of her face before sliding up under her lids a bit even as her body succumbs to gravity. The Amazon princess drops to her knees with her butt resting on her calves. One palm is flat against the cement floor barely holding her up and the other is flexed around her jaw.
“.....ohhhhhhh....Hera.....uuuuuuggghhhhhh....whadda...punch....” Wonder Woman works her jaw back and forth. If not for her belt, it would be shattered and she flat on her back. As it is, she’s too woozy to even get back onto her feet for the moment.
“It appears that the might of the Amazon just might not be all that mighty, eh, cherie?”
“...huh..?...what...?...” Wonder Woman’s heavily-lidded eyes look up at Pascal filled with confusion.
“I am reciting poetry to a baboon. No matter. Back on your feet, Princess. You have to teach me the folly of challenging your astounding warrior prowess, remember?”
Rising again to her feet, Diana swivels her neck, straightens her back and gets back into her fighting stance. “I do remember and so...so shall you, you..uhh..insolent little...pipsqueak.”
Still weak, but better, Di!
Pascal smirks as he puts his fists back up and takes a step forward to jab at Wonder Woman’s head. It falls far short but it wasn’t meant to really connect. He’s just working on distracting and disorienting the addled heroine. Another jab forward makes her step back and she moves to her right. The sparring pair has moved into tighter confines of the basement room. Large, three-foot high blue plastic storage bins line the floor. Five of the six-foot long bins are lined up end-to-end. Wonder Woman backs up against the middle one, the back of her thighs pressing against the cool plastic surface. Surprised, she turns her head slightly to glance down at the object and Pascal sees his chance. The first punch, a driving left jab goes right at her pelvis. With the flash of a bracelet-clad wrist, it is parried to the side by a speedy downward movement. As before the first punch is a diversion for the second, a nasty right cross aimed directly at the inviting target of the Amazon’s left breast. The brass knuckles are aimed directly at her nipple, Pascal’s arm rocketing forward at full power. But the Amazon’s quick reaction time, while not anywhere near bullet-deflecting speed, is still enough to block Pascal’s hurtling fist. Brass meets feminum at full force.
KLAAAAAANNNGGGG! The hellish bell-ish sound reverberates loudly in the room but Wonder Woman is grinning at her small victory here.
“You’re out of your depth, doctor.” She easily blocks his sudden ambushing left uppercut, her eyes boring into his with a gleam of obvious satisfaction as he backs off.
“Am I? We shall see,” he replies coldly. Then, stepping forward again, Pascal launches a formidable attack at her, his jaw set with clear determination. The tall Frenchman throws a steady barrage of combinations at her, a variety of menacing punches with deadly intent. A right jab, a left cross, a right uppercut, a left jab. He is relentless. The punches rain down but each thrusting attempt is swiftly parried. Each one is instantly nullified. Each one is more frantically and wildly launched than the one before. Pascal is wailing away at his raven-haired adversary and he can do no harm. His frustration level is through the roof and he’s panting with the effort. The Champion of All Women is all smiles as her arms move up and down, side to side, blocking all his effort with grace and style. Wonder Woman’s belt has filled her with surging strength. Her instincts are sharp though her mind is still somewhat slowed. When Pascal takes a step back, his face flushed and angry, his chest heaving, Diana senses a shift in the momentum of their struggle. She feels a sense of relief as well having weathered his stormy onslaught. And it’s not just this squall of fists she’s thinking about but everything she’s endured since she climbed through his window. For the first time, she doesn’t feel like she’s on the defensive now. Even though she’s been doing nothing but defending herself for the last minute of his barrage of fist, she feels ready to launch an offensive of her own.
However, Pascal still seems intent on trying to batter through her guard. His breath regained, he swipes his sweaty arm with his forearm. Sweat circles ring his underarms, the dress shirt damp and clingy. His suit jacket and pants are a bit rumpled from all the physical effort, but the professor’s eyes only bespeak a hint of tiredness to Diana. There’s still a fiery hate burning there.
“What have I done to you to make you hate me so?”
“You exist, bitch.”
With that, Pascal charges forward, launching a huge left hook at her face. Her right hand snaps up and catches his fist in her hand with a smacking noise that sounds like someone suddenly breaking a large stick over their knee.
“Aren’t you getting tired of this, Pascal?” The proud blue eyes challenge him boldly as his fist shakes and quivers in her grip. When he attempts a violent right hook at her chest, Wonder Woman intercepts that neatly as well, this time grabbing his wrist and freezing it in place before the brass knuckles get within six inches from her thrusting chest.
The adversaries stand together under the overhead fluorescent lights, locked in combat. Pascal is struggling mightily to break the grip that the powerful Amazon has on both his arms. He can’t do it. He’s thinking it might have been a mistake to take her on in hand-in-to-hand combat: might have been if not for his brilliance at brain science. This woman’s instincts might still be sharp but her mind was still compromised. He uses that against her.
“Looks like a standoff, Princess. Care to make a deal? You let my hands go and I don’t blow a hole in this nation’s capital with my little nuclear dirty bomb in that storage bin just under that shapely ass of yours?” He nods at the bin behind her.
Diana’s victory smile fades to a grim glare at Pascal then brightens back into a smirk.
“Hard to set off a bomb with your hands previously engaged, you foolish man.” She tightens her grip on him to be sure and he grimaces from the added pressure.
“Not with a timer set to go off in under 10 minutes, cherie. Hands free device. It goes boom no matter what. I had it all prepared in case you proved to be harder to handle than I expected. You can check the readout for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
When Wonder Woman takes a quick glance down behind her, Pascal plays his ace in the hole. His hard, bony knee cap drives up into her crotch with all the force he has inside him.
“HUUUUNNGGGHHHH!” Wonder Woman’s eyes bulge in their sockets and she helplessly releases him and staggers off to the side in agony. She bends forward and clutches at her groin, both hands cupped over her crotch. “Owwww! Aaaghhhh...Ohhhhhh.
Pascal moves in, not giving his quarry any opportunity to counter him. A left cross she doesn’t see knocks her head to the side and splits her lip, blood and spit flying from her mouth in an arc through the air. Stunned, Wonder Woman pulls one hand from her crotch and extends out her right arm in a quaky defensive gesture to try to block whatever else might come in that direction. Sadly, for her, her mind is not functioning well. She should be blocking her other side instead because the right uppercut coming in for her has nothing in its way whatsoever. Her turning head sees her mistake in horror but Diana is too stunned to react in any way to the inevitable destruction that gleaming fist holds for her. The brass knuckles drive deep into the underside of the helpless Amazon’s left breast, burying within the depths of the fleshy, distorted mass of flesh and forcing it upward.
“HOONFFF!” Pascal’s follow-through sends the massive mound up into Wonder Woman’s chin, blunting against it and burying the lower half of her face in tit flesh. Gravity and time have their due and the heavy mass of her bosom descends downward and bounces and shakes in place while Wonder Woman tries to understand what just happened.
Before she can begin to assess her predicament, Pascal pounds his left fist straight into her right tit, a heat-seeking bomb that implodes in her 44D chest with breathtaking results.
Staggered to the core by his two thunderous shots to her chest, Wonder Woman is barely able to stand up, her knees touching, calves splayed out, head down and hands clutching now at her chest instead of her groin. Both tits have been knocked free of the bustier and only the woman’s slowly massaging hands hiding her nipples offer any modesty whatsover. The hole in her panties displays her snatch to perfection. The Champion of All Women is a mess.
“Two can play at that ‘ooh, look what’s behind you’ game, you arrogant twat. Not so funny or clever from the other side is it, Wonder Woman.”
The heroine’s eyes look down at herself and sees her disgraceful condition. She pulls up on the ragged, acid-eaten top of her bustier and tucks her breasts back inside as best she can. It barely keeps them covered. There’s nothing she can do about her female parts being on display.
“I told you those teats of yours were excellent targets, cherie,” taunts Pascal. “Do they hurt as much as I suspect?”
“...you bastard...” Diana rubs her split lip with the back of her hand, wishing she had long sleeves to blot up the blood and saliva there. Her hand merely smears it away slightly. She frowns down at the bloody smear on her hand.
“Back to the insults. I have to teach you better manners, knockers. You clearly have not been properly disciplined for far too long.”
With a sudden rush forward, Pascal closes the four steps between himself and the half bent, half-aware Wonder Woman in a flash.
“NO!” Still dazed and with the power belt offering her nothing at the moment, the shocked heroine throws her arm up in panicked defense as he looms over her. His brass-knuckled fist comes down hard against her left temple and stars explode in her sight.
Diana finds herself on her knees with several seconds lost to her. Pascal is holding her hair in his hand as she lifts her heavy head from her chest and stares up with dazed confusion.
How’d I get in this position?
Her single thought is driven out of her head as he suddenly bends down toward her and jerks his arm back and forth three times. Three successive brass-assisted kidney punches in her side with all the force Pascal can summon explode within her body and mind with brain-searing suddenness.
Wonder Woman collapses to the floor, only her head held aloft by her hair, the skull tilted back as her faces wrenches into an ugly spasm of agony.
When her hair is released, Diana tries to crawl off, away from the punishment, away from the danger. Yet another hard knock to her skull from Pascal’s relentless right hand stuns the muscular heroine into inert confusion, driving her head down against the concrete floor and forcing the champion to curl up in an near fetal position to achieve whatever protection that may provide. She cowers there defenselessly with her knees tucked against her chest and both arms covering her head. She feels sick and disoriented from the pain of his brutal attack. Trembling and disoriented, she thickly awaits his onslaught. For the moment, it is a verbal one.
“Consider your defenses breeched, Wonder Woman. And speaking of breeches and compromised, your underpants there are a tattered mess, mon cherie. I can see all your womanly charms glistening pink and bright in the light.” On her side, with her legs pulled up tight against her body, the mighty heroine’s tattered briefs cling to her rounded, flexed buttocks but the ragged hole in them allows a clear view of the folds of Wonder Woman’s vagina, the dark hint of her anus and the lower area of her neatly trimmed bush. “Goodness,” continues Pascal. “I can even spot a patch of your curly black pubic hair. I do think I should take a souvenir. In fact, I will.”
The Frenchman saunters over to the groggy heroine and circles around her. She’s lying on her left side, legs drawn up to her chest, her orifices exposed to Pascal’s bright, eager eyes. He goes down to one knee in front of her, his brass knuckled right fist not four inches from her face, cocked and ready to strike.
“Don’t move, bitch!” His left hand reaches down between Wonder Woman’s legs and without warning, suddenly plucks a pubic hair out of her trimmed thatch.
She winces, her heavily lidded eyes slide up to look at Pascal only to see a fist ringed in brass staring her in the face.
“...uuhhnn....w...whattaya doi...UUUHHNN!” She had flinched again and started to kick out with her right calf when Pascal’s fist collided with her eyebrow, knocking the Amazon’s head down against the cold cement floor with a hard thump. He gives her a second shot to her temple and Wonder Woman sags in place, unable to think or react for now.
“...ohhhhhhhhhhhh....” She moans deeply, dazed and hurt and a bit sick to her stomach.
A third hair is suddenly yanked from her bush and the Champion of All Women’s eyes blink with a tear or two from the utter embarrassment of her situation.
“Agh! ...stop doing...that. You’re being so....nasty.” With her belt, Wonder Woman’s body heals quickly and Diana’s head is starting to clear up already from the painful beating.
“And you’re being such a pathetic wimp.”
“Yeah?” Wonder Woman’s ire stirs her even futher. “Well, I’ll show you who’s a wimp, you bas...UUNNHH!”
Stupidly announcing her intentions, the drugged Wonder Woman takes a quick punch to her forehead that knocks her head back and releases her arms from around her knees so that she sprawls on her back in a confused stupor. Yet again. Then, as she lies there, inert and trying to gather her senses once more, she feels Pascal’s hand wandering slowly all around her crotch, his fingers tickling through her thatch. The hand then slides down to the crease between her crotch. He fingers her vagina briefly as she groans with a wooziness that keeps her flat on her back and helpless. The roaming hand then moves, the fingers freely and slowly circling through her bush..
A fourth and final hair is plucked and Pascal rises from his one knee stance. He tucks the four hairs into the pocket of his dress shirt.
“There. That’ll do for now,” he says and then takes two steps back.
Wonder Woman groans in pain and coughs. A sudden spittle of blood-tainted saliva pops out, the reddish translucent drop dangling on her lower lip as she lies sprawled out before her enemy in a woozy daze. Her kidneys may have been damaged in her beating.
“...ohhh....this...this...just....sucks...” Wonder Woman complains from her lowly position. “I hate you...you...old....pig....” Her lower lip is quivering slightly as she looks up at her nemesis.
“Of course you do, you incompetent street trash. That’s because I had you beaten before you even snuck in my window. Thanks to my ingenuity and planning. You never had a chance!” Pascal steps back, sweeps his arm out and bows from the waist “Never!”
“We’ll see about that,” the raven-haired heroine says, stalling for time to gather her strength and wits. What’s left of them. “Many a man has underestimated me and lived to regret it,” she adds.
Wonder Woman’s strength is a fraction of its normal quota and she is bruised and embarrassed but the Amazon’s willpower is not nearly crushed yet. Pascal sees this in her eyes. He knows he must proceed with the plans to break her down.
“Very well then, I shall give you another chance to defeat me in battle. To show yourself the champion by rising up and facing me with greater skill than mine. Stand up, Wonder Woman and show me how Amazons face their fear.”
Drawing the back of her hand against her mouth and seeing the blood, Diana frowns. The pain is significant but she can endure it. She is from Themyscira. Her soul understands that her kind do not relent, do not retreat, do not stop until the enemy is vanquished. So she rolls over onto her belly, and then pushes herself up onto her hands and knees with a grimace. She suppresses the moan from the pain that sparks into her sides from her damaged kidneys on one side and the broken scab of the now leaking bullet wound on the other.
Diana, Princess of the Amazons, rises very slowly and then finally stands before Pascal, tilted slightly, and in some pain but unbowed. The Frenchman’s eyebrows arch. He had not expected his taunts to generate this. He thought she might get to her feet. He certainly didn’t expect to still see the fire in her eyes. He expected fear, trepidation and reluctance, not the icy staring challenge in those glaring blue irises and the jaw so sternly set. He is startled and impressed by the will of this woman. It will be enjoyable to break it.
Jimmy Glendennan thanks the person on the other end of the phone and hangs up with a smile. He turns to his partner Sal who’s reading through a file with his feet up on a worn steel office desk that wasn’t new in the 70s but had been built to be nearly indestructible and was proving the manufacturer’s claims to be true. This piece of furniture would survive through a Cormac McCarthy novel without a scratch.
“Okay, I’ve got a neighbor of Gerald Detherlink who saw him just two days ago in his back yard which is next to hers. She saw him practicing sword fight moves she says.”
“Yeah, so? We know he’s Battle Axe. I’m sure the nutjob had to practice sometime. His rap sheet says he was damn good with his weapons. What’s your point, Jimbo?”
“She says he was talking to some guy with a beard who was sitting in a chair watching Gerry practice. I got to thinkin’ who do we know with a beard, but I got nuthin’ yet. I was thinkin’ it might pay for us to go up and show her pictures of our best prospects.”
“And who would those be, Jimmy?”
“Everyone who had a beef with this Destiny babe. We got these five guys here...” he waves his hand, indicating an envelope containing 4" x 6" photos on his desk. “....that have all publicly threatened her recently. Let’s run their pix by her and see if we get lucky. Two of them have beards.”
“That’s pretty thin. Besides I get the feeling this guy working with Gerry wasn’t the type to be in our books. I think he’d have to be a super villain to take down both Destiny and Battle Axe.”
“Unless those two took down each other and our unknown perp just stood by and then offed Gerry after he killed the superbabe with his titanium knife.”
“That’s one way it could’a gone down,” Sal nods. “Doesn’t get us any closer though. I still think the key that unlocks this case is through the chemicals. All three of the super babes got their vags swiped baby fresh and new by that Elimanol stuff. Plus, two of them had a very specific chemical in their system that’s only found in Europe and my guess is the third vic did too. That guy Trevor was supposed to get word from Interpol about any cross matches. When he knows he said he’d call me ASAP. When he does, we may have our guy. Guess it wouldn’t hurt to pass some photos past the neighbor while we wait. Where was Axe living again?”
“Over in Bethesda.”
“Really?” Sal frowns as he pulls his feet off the desk and stands up, putting on his suit jacket from the back of the chair. “Who said crime doesn’t pay? Pretty pricey neighborhood. And I’m guessin’ titanium weapons don’t come cheap either.”
“True,” Jimmy replies, swiping up the envelope of suspect photos, jamming them in his inside suit pocket, and turning to walk to toward the elevator. “And the cost of making you look good for your own funeral after you’ve been cut in half probably costs a pretty penny.”
“Unless the funeral home gives his estate a deal. Half off!”
“That’s not even funny.”
“It’s half funny,” Sal says, pushing the down button on the elevator call pad.
“I don’t agree,” answers Jimmy shaking his head. “It’s a split decision.”
Sal turns his head toward Jimmy and smiles at that. “Hey, that was good. You’re getting better.”
“By your standards. And those are pretty low.” Jimmy just looks up at the numbers over the door indicating their descent. The light changes from 12 to 11 and continues to slowly count down. The building isn’t as old as Sal’s desk but the elevator does tend to take its time. Jimmy does have a bit of a self-satisfied smirk on his Irish mug for two floors worth of transit.
Just then, Sal Abato’s cell phone rings. He looks at the screen but it’s not a number he recognizes.
“Abato. Who’s this?”
“Detective Abato, my name is Kathy Hommetz. I work for the marketing department at CyberTech Solutions. We got a request from your office regarding a chip of ours.”
“Chip? I’m sorry, why are you calling?”
“Well, we were asked to provide you with a list of all our beta testers of the CT6500 series microchip.”
“Oh, right. Do you have the list? And can you send it to my email. I can check it on my phone and see if any of your testers match up with who I’m looking for.”
“Yes, well, that’s the thing, Mr. Abato....”
“Detective Abato, Miss Hommetz.”
“Sorry, yes of course. Detective Abato. Anyway the thing is we pulled that chip off the market two years ago, just about three months after it went into beta. Too many complaints about it. They were all returned to us as requested.”
“So how did your chip end up in my police evidence locker?”
“There was only one chip not returned. I guess that client didn’t have complaints about it. Or maybe he just modified around the circuitry flaws that bothered our other clients. That happens sometimes.”
“Who was that client who never returned the chip? Do you have a name?”
“Yes, our records are quite complete in this regard. CyberTech is very meticulous in this regard. Our clients appreciate our...”
“I hate to interrupt your marketing pitch, Miss Hommetz but I’m trying to solve a murder case here. What was that name of the person who didn’t return the chip?”
“It’s not a who, Detective. It’s a company name. It is ........” Just then a hiss of static broke in and his caller’s voice dropped out to silence.
“Hello? Hello?” Abato looked at his phone’s screen and frowned. The elevator reaches the ground floor and the doors finally slide open. The two detectives step out into the old marbled lobby.
“....a company that had only purchased one of two chips of ours over the past five years,” the voice is concluding. “So if there’s nothing else, Detective.”
“Wait! Miss Hommetz. I’m sorry but I was in an elevator and missed that company’s name. Could you repeat it for me?”
“Yes, that was Pascal Research LLC, Detective.”
“Son of a bitch,” Sal murmurs to himself. The little minx was right.”
“I’m sorry. Now I’m the one who didn’t hear you, Detective.”
“Nothing, I’m sorry, I was talking to...someone else...”
“Would you like the address for that company?”
“By all means, Miss Hommetz.”
“It’s 11313 Rockville Pike, North Bethesda, Maryland.”
“Thank you so much for your help, Miss. It could be instrumental in helping me solve my case.”
“I’m glad I could help, Detective Abato. Goodbye.”
Sal terminated the call and looked at Jimmy’s alert brown eyes under expectantly raised eyebrows.
“Change of plans. We’re blowing off the neighbor and going to North Bethesda. We’ve got a real, live A#1 genuine suspect.”
“A guy named Pascal. Some French professor that that frumpy broad Prince from IADC thought might have somethin’ to with it. Seemed pretty circumstantial to me at the time but I came down hard and heavy on her for withholdin’ key evidence blah, blah, blah, at the time. Gotta make the Feds sure they know where your territory’s marked nice and clear. I basically pissed on her during that phone as I recall. Backed her off but now it looks like she might’a been right.”
“What’s a guy who teaches French got to do with killing super babes?”
“Not a guy who teaches French. A guy who is French. Anyway, that’s what we’re going to find out, partner. We’re going to visit his place of business right now.”
“Good. We could use a break,” Glendennan nods. “Last I heard, the mayor was pretty steamed about this case still hangin’ when some news bitch asked him about it when she ambushed him outside a fundraiser at the National Gallery.”
“Shit! I didn’t see that. Hope this lead does pay off. I don’t fancy walking a beat at my age.”
“So, the great Amazon warrior deigns to stand up and confront her foe,” Pascal says, carefully eyeing Wonder Woman even as she eyes him. “Despite the fact that she is a pale shadow of herself. Even though she is weak and confused and frightened, she bravely yet stupidly takes up the challenge, knowing she cannot win.”
“I know no such thing, worm. But I do know a frightened man when I see one. You thought me done and finished, Pascal. Admit it. You did not expect me to present a challenge that you are unprepared to face.”
“Unprepared? Hardly, Princess.” Pascal reaches over to a nearby drawer in a built-in storage unit and pulls out a short metal rod with a rounded knob on the end. Though only 10" or so in length, the black brushed metal rod is still an imposing little implement. He beats the knob into his left palm with a smack but Wonder Woman just gives him a sad shake of the head. After that, Pascal pulls a knife out of his pants pocket and flicks it open with a snap of his left wrist. Again, the blade is not overly long, a mere five inches with a handle of the same black brushed metal, but it too garners a head shake from the tall black-haired beauty. Pascal balances both weapons in his raised arms, waving them with studied menace.
“All your toys will not save you from my wrath, Frenchman. Your day of reckoning has arrived.”
“I am more inclined to believe it is your reckoning day, mon cherie. Shall we dance?”
“If you insist, Professor. But try to keep up,” says the Amazon with a bravado she doesn’t quite feel. Yet again, they circle each other looking for openings. And to gain his edge again, Pascal begins to verbally taunt Wonder Woman, hoping to goad her into brash action like before.
“You know what I did not expect from your three loser so-called super heroine friends? I did not expect them to enjoy having their fresh young twats cock-jammed against their wishes as much as they all seemed to. Greasy and tight, each one of them with her own special squeal of delight as she came and wept and came and came until her thighs were slick with her juices. Well, it sent me over the edge, I will admit. Each time.”
Wonder Woman scowls but does not rise to the lure. She just doggedly eyes her quarry, looking for an opening. The tall Frenchman keeps both weapons waving in menacing little spirals though as he continues to move to his right, watching out for any peculiar moves out of the Amazon.
“I’m surprised you could even maintain an erection, professor. You seem like...umm..you need Viagra or something...like that.”
“That is your big snappy comeback, Wonder Woman? This is like trading insults with a chimp. What is next, are you going to throw your feces at me? Ooooghh...ooooghh!” Pascal makes chimp sounds and makes long-armed chimp-like motions. That is when Wonder Woman lunges forward and then kicks up high with her right leg, the toe of her boot coming up and knocking the knife out of the left hand of a very surprised Pascal. The weapon spins into the air and off toward a shelving unit filled with empty petri dishes where it lands with a tinkle of shattering glass.
“Oops! Knifey go bye bye,” grins Wonder Woman and she backs up a step before Pascal’s swiping right hand can land the steel rod against the side of her head. She feels very pleased with herself for disarming the Frenchman of his knife and being fast enough to dodge his retaliatory swipe at her. She goes for broke and grabs his extended wrist with both hands as she brings it down toward her upraised knee. “Heee...yaahh,” she shouts in an effort to concentrate her focus and power.
Once again, by telegraphing her move with her shout and obvious movements, Pascal is able to counter her tactic, this time by punching his now empty left fist directly into the site of her bullet wound.
All the Amazon’s focus and power are completely disrupted by this maneuver and the screeching heroine cannot prevent the man from pulling his arm out of her grip as she bends over with a rush of nausea sweeping through her from the shocking pain. The club which he still holds in his freed right hand rises up swiftly and comes down hard on Wonder Woman’s right shoulder.
Diana’s left hand comes up to squeeze and try to relieve the pain in her shoulder. Her entire right arm hands limp and numb at her side, fuzzy tingling shaking her fingertips like spastic worms.
Pascal raises the club high again and swings it down the grimacing heroine’s fingers as they try to bring blood and feeling back into her useless appendage. She is able to catch his wrist on the downswing and give it a good twist. Pascal yelps and drops the steel club. The resonating clang of the steel hitting the cement floor pierces the air between the heavily breathing combatants. Wonder Woman quickly bends over to retrieve the steel club when Pascal grabs the sides of her head and yanks his knee up so it crashes fiercely into the stunned Amazon’s face.
“Uuuughhhnnn!” She recoils from this, her back straightening as her neck snaps up and she’s looking directly at Pascal. Her eyes roll together toward the bridge of her nose and the Mighty Champion of All Women wavers in place trying not to fall over in her dizzy bewilderment. She is half hunched over and teetering badly.
“...uuuuuhhhhnnnn....” She can’t put together her thoughts as she puts both hands on her knees to steady herself. The right hand, still numb, slips off the knee but Wonder Woman compensates and is able to maintain her balance if not her dignity. She lowers her head and shakes it slightly to try to clear it. That’s when she sees Pascal reaching down and calmly picking the steel bar off the floor in his right hand before he rises up and stands over the wobbling, befuddled Wonder Woman.
He doesn’t telegraph his intent. He simply slams the knob end of the steel rod onto the middle of Diana’s upper back driving her to both knees like an avid religious zealot eager to speak with her deity. In fact, in a mumbled prayer, she appeals aloud, “Oww! Oh...Hera...help me... be strong.”
With a deadened right arm, Wonder Woman can’t block the follow up swing that snaps sharply against the crown of her head.
“HUUUGGHHNN!” The famous raven-haired heroine’s blue eyes roll high up under her lids and she topples over like a load of bricks onto her hands and knees. But with a deadened right arm, she can’t even maintain that position and falls down onto her face, a shapely but inert figure stretched out in the sudden silence, her right arm pinned beneath her, her left arm cast outward, her long legs stretched out in a long v, her round prominent buttocks still shaking slightly from her fall, all her feminine assets showing pink in the lights through the hole in her torn and battered starred pants.
“Well, thank you for that delightful dance, Amazon. But why don’t you sit this one out. You look particularly beat!”
The beauty says nothing. She merely lies there, face down on the cement floor, drooling and limp, a conquered warrior laid asunder battle, and then she slips into a deep dark pool of nothingness. With a sigh, Pascal sees her body settle and goes off to try to find his knife.
Sal and Jimmy pull up to the small two-story warehouse in North Bethesda. On an early Sunday afternoon, there’s no activity in this area of mostly industrial buildings. They look over the address. There’s the number 11313 over the door in free-standing black iron numerals.
“This is the place,” says Sal. “Quiet. Doesn’t look like anything’s cooking.”
“You realize we don’t have jurisdiction here, right, Sal? This is Maryland we’re in here.”
“It’s a capital crime we’re working on, Jimbo. I think our Bethesda brethren will cut us some slack. If we even find anything.”
“And we don’t have a warrant.”
“Well, then, me lad, let’s go find us some probably cause, shall we.”
“You know that Irish accent still sucks, right?” Jimmy raises an eyebrow at his partner.
“I’m doin’ me very best, laddie.”
They exit the car and Sal goes to trunk, opens it and takes out a tire iron. The pair then head up to the front door. Standing at the brass sign, the two detectives read it over and look at the door. A simple knob lock on a steel door. Dumb security.
Nodding at the sign, Jimmy says, “Guy likes to keep a low profile, I’ll say that for him.”
“Mmhh, yup.” Sal scans the neighborhood but there’s no one in sight. “Oh, look at that, someone tried to force entry here.” And raising high the tire iron with both hands, Sal gives the knob a hard downward driving shot which breaks it off. Reaching into the hole, Sal pops the latch and the heavy door swings open. “We better go inside and check around. Someone could be in trouble.”
The pair walks inside the darkness and Sal feels for a light switch on the wall to his left. He finds it and flips it up. The entryway is small with a wall facing them. Sal squats down and quietly places the tire iron on the linoleum tiled floor and as he rises, takes the gun out of his shoulder holster, holding the muzzle up. Jimmy pulls his gun and the two begin to investigate the warehouse, covering each other at every corner they come to. There are many of them and it feels like a maze to the wary cops.
“This ain’t like any fuckin’ warehouse I’ve ever been in,” says Sal.
“Copy that,” answers Jimmy, his palms beginning to sweat.
Wonder Woman comes to her senses slowly and realizes she is cold and stiff. Her half naked breasts are pressed against the cold cement floor...
How many times has that happened today?
There’s the sound of dragging and scraping and cursing off to her far right. It’s Pascal.
The Amazon princess wearily gets to her feet, pulling herself up slowly by using the shelving to her left.
“...uughh...this man is a pain in my butt,” she murmurs softly to herself. “Keeps out-thinking me. What did he say about neutralizers? And some kind of ass sticks.. Hey..maybe...” Wonder Woman bends over, reaches down, pulls her ass cheek aside with one hand and pokes her forefinger of the other up into her ass to find the stick. She moves it up and down and around desperately trying to locate it.
It’s not there!
“Must have fallen out...” she says.
“It melted already,” says Pascal from six feet away. “Done its work.”
Wonder Woman looks up from finger-fucking her own ass to see Pascal looking at her with untold delight. Her cleavage within her damaged bustier is a gaping valley revealing her generous chest in a most unladylike way.
“Oh, god!” She wails and pulls out her finger and then straightens up. Her face and chest are flushed a deep red with her undying shame. She surreptitiously wipes her finger on her butt cheek behind her as stands there with wide eyes and no idea what to do next.
“But please, do not let me stop you from having your fun, champ. Would you want some butter or something?”
“Hah! Of the two people in this room, I believe most observers would point to you, Wonder Woman, at this moment as the one of vastly subnormal intelligence. Rather obvious actually.”
“Really,” says Wonder Woman pulling herself to her full height and placing her hands on her hips as her belt delivers another little surge of power back to her. She has an idea. “I’m not sure its so obvious, Pascal. Especially when you’re the one who’s so easily....tricked!”
With that, Wonder Woman’s hand, which had been on her hip, flips with a lightning quickness of the wrist. Her lasso sails out over the short distance between herself and the tall Frenchman, the always-readied loop descending over his head...
Until his hand reaches up and catches the circled rope in his palm.
“No!” Diana cries out in frustration.
Pascal’s other hand extends out with a deft quickness of his own and snatches at the slip knot, undoing it with twisting fingers until the loop is gone and Pascal has the end of his rope in both hands and is pulling on it.
The dismayed Amazon can’t believe this man had been a step ahead of her yet again. She despondently pulls back on the rope and sets her boot heels in a line for a tug of war and a battle of wills that is unlike anything she’s ever faced in her life.
“You thought to make me your weak-minded slave, princess, but it is you who will be the one to succumb here.”
Diana, no stranger to having powerful minds in her thrall, is surprised at the power of this one, the raging will at the other end of her charmed rope.
She exerts her will though. As always, she is the stronger one when it comes to tests like this. “That is not going to happen, Pascal. You know already that you cannot ...will not be able to fight the power of truth that infuses this rope.” She tugs hard, hoping to pull him off his feet but he has set himself and the heroine, though belted, is still too weak from the drugs in her system to unbalance him.
“And you know that truth is a shifting construct, cherie. One based solely in the human mind. Your truth is not my truth. Certainly not in this case.”
“You may try to confuse and...and distract me, villain, but it will not work.”
“Confuse? Not at all, Wonder Woman. I am simply sharing my truth with you as you wish it. Hear my truth, if you dare. My truth is this: the concepts you espouse such as truth and justice and the love for one’s fellow man, if you will; concepts that you so drearily profess in your endless sermons at the United Nations; well, they are nothing but effervescent shimmering phantoms in the light. The truth, my truth is simply this: What is real and provable and undeniable is science and nature and Darwin’s evolution. This is a truth that has been proven for millions of years, child.” It’s Pascal’s turn to give the rope a hard sudden yank but Wonder Woman’s heels are firmly set on the concrete below her boots. She does not relent.
“I’m no child, Pascal. You underestimate me.”
“You overestimate yourself, Wonder Woman. This surprises me because I have proven to you over and over today that I am your superior in every way. Even you cannot deny that truth, woman!”
“You may have damaged my body and twisted my thoughts with your cruel chemicals and toys and schemes, Pascal, but never during this day have you damaged my will. I have continued to pursue you through it all. Deny the truth of that, villain!”
“Your will to pursue is merely based on the tempting bait I have set before you to draw you into my web, Wonder Woman. Everything I have done over the years has been of a mind to bring you to this time and place for your reckoning. The so-called truth of your pursuit, of your will as you say, is merely the many cheeses I have placed in your rat maze on your way to me. Your compatriot heroines, dead and abused in such a horrible manner? How could you resist your need to capture me. What is so delightful to me is that your hubris at their ineffectual, tragic endings has already been proven to be equally successful against you, my dear.”
“You have not succeeded yet, you monster.”
“A matter of time, trollop.”
Both yank at the same time and neither gives ground.
“I am here to avenge their deaths as justice demands,” Wonder Woman glares at Pascal. “Your twisted debating skills hold no truth against that.”
“You are here because I led you by the nose to be here, foolish bitch. All the clues were ones that I placed to lead you to the open window, to the tainted memory stick and your first big step on the way to your ultimate failure, you contemptible cow. My science and superior intellect and my male dominance over a mere woman is what proved to be your undoing. That is the only truth you need to know.”
“...tainted....stick? You planned that? You wanted me here?”
“Is not the dawn pretty when it finally comes up. Yes, you naive cunt. Of course I wanted you here.”
“B...but why...why do you hate me so? You never said when I asked you earlier.”
“More truth. If you desire to know it, I suggest you get on your knees.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Then you clearly do not wish to pursue the truth you claim to need.”
“I don’t...you won’t...that won’t accomplish anything.” Diana’s confidence wavers for a moment.
I do wish to know the truth. I do not fear it. Or him.
“Yes it will. It will accomplish this: It will be a sign to me that you are open to the truth. It will make me feel more at ease so I may tell you about my sister.”
“Your sister? What does she have to do with...”
“ON YOUR KNEES, WONDER WOMAN!”
“Aghh!” Distracted by the newly introduced confusion of Pascal’s sister and strained to the limit by their constant match of wills, the raven-haired heroine rocks her head back in a jolt of a sudden headache. And a severe case of indecision.
“To know the truth, you should be on your knees, Diana.”
“Of course it is. You know that as Wonder Woman and as Diana Prince, do you not, my pretty toy.”
“Who? How did you know..? Oh...right...I changed....in front...of you.”
“Yes, you revealed that truth to me in the deepest trust. Now I want to reveal my deepest secret to you in trust. But I cannot do that unless you take a leap of faith and get down on your knees.”
Pascal yanks the rope suddenly and a faltering Wonder Woman is pulled forward hard. She falls to one knee despite herself.
“You are halfway there, my dear. Do you not you think it would be a good idea to settle down to both knees and hear the full truth from me? What would be the harm in that, really?”
The mighty champion tries to stand but Pascal’s words are mesmerizing in their simplicity. She wavers there on one knee thinking hard. Her head hurt.
To hear the truth of all this horrible matter, the reason behind all the deaths, I simply have to be on both knees. What would be the harm in that?
“I...i...sup...pose...it...it would be...okay...” She murmurs.
“Of course it would, my cherie. As soon as you lower yourself down to both knees, I will tell you everything you want to know about this whole nasty affair.” Pascal’s voice is a slow, smoothly cool monotone now. Wonder Woman’s questioning blue eyes look deeply into his brown irises, deeply trying to see the truth there. She sees that he will tell her the truth when she does what he wants. He really will. And she needs to know it. Her mind has but one final thought to pose.
“...are...you...sure...this is right...?”
“It is right. It is what I want. And by extension, it is what you want. Is it not?”
“...i...uh...uhhmmm...yes...it’s what...what I....want...too.”
“Then I suggest you set down that other knee and await the truth you need to hear, cherie.”
Wonder Woman lowers herself to both knees finally as Pascal walks forward, coiling the lasso in one hand as he does while firmly gripping the other. He sends his will down it’s length to the kneeling heroine before him. She looks up at him with eager eyes, desperately needing to hear his words. Her bustier sags badly and her exposed breasts hang gloriously in view, their nipples now revealed. Her starred panties are a ragged, damaged sight as well, with the famous Amazon’s snatch in plain sight.
With the lasso still held in her hands, Wonder Woman kneels before Pascal as he looks down at her open, anxious face.
“The first truth, the very first truth you should hear, my eager young beauty....” he says as he squats down before the lovely Amazon and plays with the coiled rope in his hands “...is that your will is not your own anymore.
“...no...?...” she whispers, almost in awe.
“No, cherie, it is mine.” Pascal quickly tosses the golden rope over Wonder Woman’s head. Once again, it has been formed into a loop. Pascal gives it a sharp pull and it cinches around her throat in a tightly constricting noose. He then quickly stands up and yanks her forward until she’s on all fours. A mere moment after that, his leg has been swung around behind her, and then he is behind her back and pulling up hard on the lasso so that Wonder Woman’s neck is severely choked and she dangles in gasping retching helplessness, on her knees with his hand caressing her cheek.
“And the next truth is, my dear, that you would love to have me fondle your breasts as I tell you the truth you long to hear. Is not that what you want, Wonder Woman?”
“Oh, sorry, let me loosen that for you a bit.” He does so and Diana gasps for several breaths before she answers Pascal.
“...yes...having you fondle my breasts....that is what you want...so that is what I want.”
“Excellent. Bend back a bit, mon cherie, if you would.”
Wonder Woman arches her back a bit and bends over backward to Pascal’s powerful will as he slips his right hand over her right breast and begins to slowly feel up the Champion of All Woman. She allows it without a murmur of complaint.
“Now, let me tell you the story of my sister, Marie, and how I came to hate you, Wonder Woman.” The hand caresses and squeezes and fondles the ample flesh in his palm This victory delights Pascal completely and, by extension through the golden rope, delights Diana as well. Because it’s the way things should be. His needs are just more important than hers. She realizes that now.
End of Part 8
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