Wonder Woman and the Superheroine Serial Killer - Part 9

I hope you enjoy the ninth installment of this Wonder Woman story. I look forward to your comments at drdominator9@live.com

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....

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.

And now, the tale continues...

The tall Frenchman gets down on one knee behind his Amazon captive so he can control her body from behind more easily, more completely. He grips the end of the lasso in his left hand keeping the cord taut and pulling Wonder Woman backward against his broad chest as his palm continues to slide around under the sagging red cloth of her ruined bustier. The shape of his fingers can be clearly seen roaming beneath the fabric as he slowly feels up his prize. His long fingers caress her soft skin, enfold her shape and squeeze with slow steady pulses as Wonder Woman’s eyes glaze over.

“Do you remember that night, bitch? How you let my sister, my beautiful Marie die?”

“I...don’t know. Not sure... my mind’s so fuzzy...so confused...”

“Let me help you recall then, cunt,” Pascal says, roughly compressing his hand around the soft flesh and drawing a harsh gasp from the pained heroine as her tit bulges slightly through the gap between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s obvious her death meant so little to you that you cannot even place her among your scattered wispy thoughts.”

“I...don’t...can’t...sorry...I... Help me, I want to help you know the truth. We both want that. I can feel your need. It burns me! Tell me please! Start me off. Remind me. Owwww! Your thoughts are soooo strong. So fierce!”

“That is my love for Marie you are feeling, you unworthy skank,” Pascal’s anger at her is so intense, his spit sprays against the back of her right ear. “You would not know about such purity. All you probably know is base lust. All you understand is the silky feeling of your Amazon sisters’ thighs clamped around your head as you paint their oily cunts with your tongue.”

“No, I...I...love them when I do that!”

“I know you love IT when you do that. But I truly doubt you understand the difference, whore, between what you call love and my true love for Marie.” Pascal is virtually snarling in the stiff-backed Amazon’s ear. “It is a purity beyond you!”

“No, it is not. My sisters are my life. My love for them matches that of yours for your own sister. I tell you....Aaagghhh!”

Pascal’s hand, having drifted over to Wonder Woman’s left breast now squeezes fiercely down on it. Her eyes tear up and the warm drops spill down her cheeks as her flesh is roughly compacted in the man’s powerful palm.


“I cannot lie. The lasso will not have it...Owww! Please, Pascal, stop squeezing my breast that way. It hurts!”

“Like I care, cunt!”

Wonder Woman is aghast to hear herself plead like this. But her magical belt is giving her nothing now and she feels weak and disoriented. The enema stick’s poisons are circulating through her. That must be what’s causing this sensation of confusion and tiredness and helplessness. It’s too much to fight. She sags forward slightly, as she feels Pascal loosen his grip on her left breast, despite his protestations to the contrary. He goes back to caressing the smooth fully-rounded skin, the palm brushing her nipple. For Diana, there’s no sexual pleasure in his slow-moving hands. It merely feels like she is a piece of sculpture in his hold, something he owns that he likes to fondle, to revel in his possession of her. The princess of Themyscira supposes it is a natural thing for a man to feel that way. Women have been men’s possessions throughout time. It’s the way of the world, isn’t it?

The raven-haired beauty shakes her head back and forth slightly, her body reacting instinctively against such a foreign thought in a confused brain.

“What are you feeling, hero?” Pascal leans forward and now softly whispers into Wonder Woman’s ear, “Is it regret over your heinous crime against my Marie? Or perhaps despair at your pathetic struggles against my overwhelming assault on your body and mind?”

“Feeling bad about...being your plaything.” Wonder Woman frowns as the truth blurts out from her lips like a sudden cough she cannot repress.

“Well, I regret to inform you, Wonder Woman, that you being my sex toy has just barely begun.” Pascal nibbles at her ear now, teasing her lobe with his smooth white teeth. “In fact, while we continue to discuss my sainted sister, I am going to allow you to stroke and fondle my cock with your hands. That would please me greatly. Would it please you, Champion of All Women, to give me a handjob? Would you enjoy feathering your dainty fingertips up and down my warm penis in the service of my pleasure?” Would it please you to rub my foreskin back and forth and all around until I spew my pleasure in the air like the fountains of Versailles?”

“...p...please me...? I...no...it would not...truly...b...but...” Wonder Woman feels Pascal’s will flowing through the rope, circling her neck and spreading through her thoughts. “...but if that is what you wish, I...i...see no reason...why I should not...give you what you wish. Y..your... needs are...important...to me. They should be...satisfied...completely,” she whispers softly.

“Yes. They should.” Pascal’s whispered reply sparks a clutching spasm of despair through Wonder Woman’s heart almost like a physical blow to her. She blinks rapidly and then sighs low and long while Pascal stands and casually walks around to face her. Even as her bearded foe settles down a mere foot in front of her, he keeps the lasso taut between them to ensure there is no lessening of his will flowing into her. Finally, he extends both feet to either side of the kneeling heroine.

“Why not sit cross-legged in a more comfortable position, mon cherie. You want to be as comfortable as possible when you jerk me off, Wonder Woman, non?”

“..y...yes...that is...kind of you,” the Amazon dully replies, switching to the sitting cross-legged position suggested by the Frenchman.

“Well, that is just my gentlemanly way, my dear. You may now unzip my fly and do what a woman should do for her man.” He nods at her slowly and she parrots back the nod, dazed by everything and too weary to contest the issue. Why should she anyway. He’s not wrong about how a woman should please a man. Diana shakes her head again. She doesn’t like what she’s thinking. But it takes too much effort to do anything but nod once more at the smiling Pascal a mere foot and a half from her face.

“Oh, and perhaps you would also like to pull down that top of yours a bit and free those lovely breasts of yours from their unnatural confinement?” Pascal gives her a nod of the head.

“I...no...they....they’re fine...uhhh....thank you...anyway....”

“Are they? Are they really...?” Pascal raises an eyebrow and thinks how lovely the heroine’s breasts would be if exposed. The golden lasso does the rest.

“..uh....well...uuhhmm...they could be a...a little more....comfortable...I guess...” Wonder Woman pulls down gently on her bustier. It doesn’t take much effort before the worn, loose fabric releases her heavy globes and they bounce and jiggle before the highly-satisfied Frenchman.

“There now. Are we not both more pleased with your naked teats hanging here in the open as is only natural?”

“...i...am...pleased if...you are...” the heavy-lidded beauty answers, her eyes looking up at Pascal for confirmation of his satisfaction.

“Oh, I am very pleased. And now....” Pascal’s eyes move from Wonder Woman’s dulled blue irises to his crotch and back, twice, giving her stunted brain the cue for what he wants, but he reinforces that with his command. “Put your lovely hands to work fondling my cock, cherie.”

She looks down at his fly and focuses on what she must do. Her raven hair frames her face, the lush locks falling forward slightly as she leans into him slightly while her hand reaches down to the tiny plastic tab of his zipper. The bare-breasted Wonder Woman, sitting dumbly before the smiling Frenchman, her costume in tatters and her body and mind badly battered, pulls his zipper down. Her eyes are half-lidded, her tongue protruding slightly. Her concentration on her sexual task at hand narrows down, her eyes looking at the generous bulge in his lap. Pascal wants her to stroke his penis. There’s no reason whatsoever not to give this man what he wants. It’s her place.

Sal Abato and Jimmy Glendennan cautiously make their way through the maze of hallways in the warehouse occupied by Pascal Research LLC. Corner after corner they cover each with guns drawn but there’s no sound of movement anywhere. At one point, they turn a corner and come across a dented steel wall with indentations in a pattern encompassing the large dent.

“Don’t those look like something a set of shotguns would produce, Sal?”

“They do indeed, Jimbo. Whoever was standing here took a hell of a lot of punishment. I’m surprised the wall’s not painted in blood. Call me crazy but I’m thinking our lady victim, Destiny, might have taken quite a salvo here. Probably from whoever was standing behind that door there,” Abato says, nodding at the closed door. He walks over and tries the doorknob. It’s unlocked. Gingerly he twists the knob, pushes the door open and stands back, his pistol pointed at the steadily growing gap as the door swings inward. Nothing happens. Both men put their backs to the wall on either side of the door. Jimmy produces a small keychain LCD light and holds it in one hand while his other holds his gun tightly, muzzle pointed up. On a mutual nod, the two detectives then pivot and rush into the room. It is empty; completely bare of any furniture. Four blank walls of an 8 x 10 room of unpainted sheet rock face them. The two men shrug.

“Let’s keep looking,” Abato says. “This whole place seems cleaned out but you never know what we’ll find.”

“Yeah, maybe a clue as to what the hell went on here,” Jimmy replies.

“Right. A clue, something that lets us know if it was this Pascal guy or his pal Battle Axe that put down that Destiny babe.”

“Maybe it was both,” suggests Jimmy.

“Could be.” Abato walks out of the empty room and heads down the long hallway, his gun still drawn. “Hell of a strange way to lay out a warehouse,” the Italian detective muses.

Wonder Woman’s hands have pulled down the zipper of Pascal’s suit slacks and she is fishing his fleshy snake out of the fly in his pale blue boxers. Her hand gently grips his member under its head and tugs it out of its fabric cave with exaggerated care.

“Excellent! I knew that you would be good at this,” the French professor says enthusiastically as the Amazon’s warm palm encompasses his shaft as she holds it out in the open, her painted red fingernails gleaming in the light of the storeroom fluorescent overhead. Her eyes look at the penis, appraising its slightly above-average size with wide pupils and shallow breaths. “Squeeze me very softly, Wonder Woman. Get to know the feel of my penis, my dear. It is everything your amazing body was created for.”

Wonder Woman frowns at this but she does slowly pulse her palm around his prick as directed. It’s her duty. “Your pussy may even be moistening already in anticipation of accommodating the length of my junk. Just holding a cock is probably an unusual experience for you, cherie. Is that the case, my lovely? Are you getting damp from the anticipation?”

“I...am not,” Diana murmurs in a quiet sulk. If anything, she was feeling shame at the moment; not eagerness. The warmth of his member in her hand as she pulsed her fist around his length felt like some kind of violation to her.

“But, cherie,” Pascal’s lower lip curls down thickly as he pouts at his raven-haired prize, “I am already getting excited by the simple ministrations you are performing. You can see how I am enlarging and stiffening in your grip. That is your own soft caressing touch that’s doing that to me. Imagine that! Such pleasures that you are providing to me surely must be making you feel a little excited, too, n’est ce pas?” Pascal’s eyebrows arch up and his willpower feeds down through the length of the lasso loosely cinched around Wonder Woman’s throat.

“I...i...i...do....nuh....n...nnnuuhhh...” Wonder Woman’s body is shaking as her willpower and desire to say the word “not” is slowly overridden by Pascal’s iron will. She can’t fight him. Nor can she hold back her sudden blush of fever as her loins suddenly quiver with unexpected erotic pleasure. She feels her vagina tingling and it sends a small shiver through her body. Her voice quavers a bit as she continues, the word “not” being converted despite herself, “...nuh ..notice... that...yes...now that you muh...muh...mention it...I am.. am..am...getting a little...wet...” The Amazon’s warrior feels her face grow hot as she admits this. It’s all so confusing to her.

Pascal’s hand reaches over and he palms Wonder Woman’s exposed crotch through the hole in her blue satin briefs.“Yes, you do feel a tiny bit damp. I thought you might be.” He smiles a lecherous grin at her blushing embarrassment. He’s also deeply pleased she’s made no effort whatsoever to prevent him from cupping her sex. She is losing her will to him more and more. “I am glad it gives you such pleasure to get me hard, Wonder Woman,” Pascal lauds her smugly. “Is it not delightful that with the simple caress of your delicate hands I am stiff as an iron pipe?”


“Thank you, my dear. It is all your doing. And now I think you should begin stroking me firmly, don’t you?”


Wonder Woman’s hand begins sliding up and down Pascal’s cock, her palm moving his skin quickly as she rubs him as commanded.

“Cup my balls, hero, with your other hand. Do it right, Wonder Woman.”

“Yes, Pascal.” The Champion of All Women gently fondles the Frenchman’s balls as she briskly strokes his cock. It’s not something she’s proud of but this is what he wants and she feels it’s only right that she complies.

“You’re really getting off on the feel of my warm, hard rod in your hand, aren’t you, Wonder Woman? It feels very natural for you to do this for me, doesn’t it?” Pascal nods his head as he thinks how excited a woman should be to make him hard and happy.

“...any...woman would be...guh...gr...grateful...” Wonder Woman’s eyes drift a bit as her will is subordinated to Pascal’s base desires. “...tuh...t...to be given....the chance..to..p.. please... you, d..doctor...”

“I am so glad we are both on the same page, Wonder Woman.” To reinforce his dominance, Pascal extends his arm and palms the Amazon’s exposed breast, squeezing it firmly. “I imagine you are getting aroused by being so naughty in the way I so dearly love.”

“...a...a...aroused....?” Wonder Woman blinks stupidly as her breast is fondled. Her mind is flooded with the idea of getting hot enjoying a man’s rock hard penis. Pascal’s ideas are now her own. The palm of his other hand rubs firmly now against her lower lips, drawing a pelvic shudder and a moan from the beautiful woman as she numbly continues her handjob. The bearded man’s eyes shine with sexual delight and the thrill of power even as his fingers spread Wonder Woman’s labia with easy familiarity. Slowly, his middle finger slides up moist soft lips and come to rest firmly against her clit. The Amazon jerks a bit as her pleasure expands ten-fold with everything she’s being subjected to.

“Yes, you’re getting off on all this sex play, aren’t you, champ?”

“I..i..uhh..yes...” Wonder Woman pants, unable to resist his physical and mental manipulations of her. Her eyelids droop as her pleasure swells within her. Her stroking of Pascal has not let up one bit. She has continued it for several minutes now. If anything, it’s gotten more practiced, more inventive and more light-fingered and effective with every minute under his spell.

“Bend over, Wonder Woman, and let your drool cover the head of my dick. It’s something we’ll both enjoy.”

“...ohh..okay...” the vapid beauty agrees.

A mere moment later the famous Amazonian Princess lets a large drop of saliva drain out of her mouth, hang in the air and then drip down onto the head of the cock she holds firmly in her hand. Still cupping his nuts, Wonder Woman obediently rubs the clear spit over the head of Pascal’s cock with her palm as directed by Pascal. His next order is only to be expected.

“Good, now suck my cock, Wonder Woman. It will be such an erotic sensation for you, mon cherie, that it is distinctly possible we will both cum. Won’t that be fun for us?” Pascal fingers her clit as he envisions her immense satisfaction of the oral stimulation she’ll gain from giving him head.

“...OHH!” Diana gasps out roughly, inundated with the feelings of her body and mind, keenly tuned to Pascal’s wavelength and his handwork. “Uuunnhhh!....” she moans loudly. “..f.. f..fun...yes...yes...”

She bends low before Pascal, taking his long, hard pole into her mouth, sealing her lips around his cock, sucking firmly on his penis and then pulling her head back slowly. Despite everything she stands for, everything she believes in, the famous feminist heroine, the mighty Wonder Woman savors the feel of his cock sliding out of her tight, gripping lips, just as he had told her she would. She does it again with more fervor now. It does give her pleasure to have this fat warm muscle in her mouth; to suck on it’s unique salty flavor and to know her pleasure is adding to his. She sucks harder and gently massages his balls drawing a long, low groan from the man who’s cock she’s gulping. And even though Pascal withdraws his fingers from her sopping wet pussy, and his other fingers only dimple and caress her breast lightly, smoothing over the wide curved surface and stimulating her passions, the raven haired beauty obediently begins bobbing her head up and down, sucking off the Frenchman with the eagerness of a nymphomaniac after a dry spell.


Pascal hands move now to hold the heroine’s head lightly in his palms as she gives him the incredible blowjob he’d always imagined. Her lips are tight against him, a hot ring of friction as her mouth engulfs him over and over.

“Mmmmmhhh...mmmmhhh...” The heroine moans with deep, throaty satisfaction. And wants even more. So does Pascal. He thinks of the joy he’d know and she’d feel if the head of his cock would brush up against the back of her throat again and again. And so it happens just as he pictured it. Merely by holding one end of the golden lasso, his desires transfers to the beautiful creature’s brain in his lap and Wonder Woman’s throat sucks on the head of his cock, gripping and regripping it with ever downward motion of her bobbing head. Her mane of black hair jerks back and forth as she gives him the best head he’s ever known.


Wonder Woman is insatiable. Put on autopilot by her own body now and Pascal’s looping pleasure of his constant will to be satisfied, the once-proud Champion of All Woman is a head-bobbing, cock-sucking woman without dignity. Ignited by his willpower flowing through her lasso that circles her neck, Diana is a woman possessed. All she wants or knows in this time and space is her need to suckle and excite this man until he cannot contain himself any longer. She moans and slurps and grunts and whimpers in her desire to fulfill him.

With her head held firmly in his hands, she jerks up and down in Pascal’s lap, Hunched over like a fawning mindless toady, Wonder Woman sucks and licks and deep throats him again and again, her fist rising and falling the length of his shaft in loving concert with her mouthwork. She is relentless and ruthless in her work. The pink muscle gleams in the light whenever she pulls back before diving down again to swallow him whole and hold him in place with her throat as her eyes hang at half mast with the her own pleasure.


Finally, the friction of her mouth and throat surrounding his shining staff is beyond his ability to control and Wonder Woman brings the Frenchman to his perfect climax. His load blows in a jet down her throat and she automatically swallows it. Once, twice and then a third splurge of his seed pulses down her gullet and fills her tummy. She breathes through her nose and shockingly, can’t disgorge him when his final shot is done. He is holding her head down and not letting her up. Her eyes roll up in shock and fright as his huge engorged cock blocks her throat. She tries to jerk her head up but has no leverage.

“I want to thank you for a wonderful handjob and blowjob, Wonder Woman. It was a true delight for you, the Champion of All Women, to debase yourself like that. I am certain that the cameras have caught it all for posterity.”

“..Aaauwwggk! Gaaaggckkkk! Hepppp! Hepppp!”

The purple-faced warrior is too weak to fight the Frenchman’s unrelenting grip. Her body shakes and jerks in place, her head in his lap, her crossed legs pinned beneath her, her final breaths wheezing through the choking gag of his thick, slimy dick.

“And as an extra special indignity, Wonder Woman, you get the opportunity to gag on your master’s cock until I agree to let you up.”

“Hhhrruuggkkk! Eggccckkkk! Heeeeeeezzz!”

“How does it feel to be so pathetically helpless in such a mortifying sexual position, you moronic cunt? To be so easily bested in every aspect of your mind and body?”

“Heppppp! Auuuwwggghhh! Ppplllleezzzz? Pllzzzzzzzz!”

Wonder Woman’s hands stop flapping uselessly in the air and her body goes limp in place, her arms flopping to the floor, her knuckles knocking there in spiritless defeat. Only after that does Pascal release her beaten, hunched-over body and pull her head off his softening cock. He pushes her off to the side and she collapses in a heap. The mighty Wonder Woman, once a role model for women across the globe, is wheezing and tearing up and panting for dear life. Her mouth drains out a clotted stream of white cum as she lies on her side on the storeroom floor in helpless confusion and despair. The Amazon warrior in her badly ruined costume with her tits hanging out and her body heaving and gasping to recover has been cruelly recast as the classic role model of defeat and sexual conquest.

After cumming like a firehose in Wonder Woman’s mouth, Renee Pascal sits for a moment on the floor with his hands spread out behind him, his palms flat against the white tile propping him up. He watches the gasping woman before him. He is thrilled with his victory. He slides his foot to the right and nudges the shapely rear of the beaten woman with his shoe.

“That was really quite something, was it not, Wonder Woman?” His gloating smile stretches across his face with ridiculous mirth and he chuckles as he shakes his head in amazement. “You were magnificent, cherie. This was not your first time at ze’ rodeo as you Americans like to say, non? The way you sucked my cock, I am thinking you have done this professionally for many years?”

From under her eyebrows the slouching Amazon looks up with a cold glare but says nothing. She is waiting for her magic belt to give her a surge of strength before she tries anything against this French bastard. She can’t afford a single mistake at this point. He’s been ahead of her every single step of the way since ...well, according to him, for months, at the very least.

“Answer me, Wonder Throat!” He kicks hard at her rear end with the heel of his shoe, driving it between her cheeks and shoving the shocked beauty a full foot across the floor. “How many men’s cocks have you sucked to get that good? 10? 18? 30? Tell me the truth, cocksucker! The lasso compels you, yes?”

“I don’t know. Twenty maybe. Or twenty-five. I...i...ls.trk.”

“What was that? I could not hear that. Speak up, bitch.”

“Maybe 25 or more. I lost track.” Wonder Woman gives out her answer rapidly and with horror, like she’s spitting out a piece of moldy meat. And then she lowers her eyes from the twinkling look that Pascal offers.

“Is that a fact? Sucking the cocks of so many men that you’re not even sure of the number. That is rich! For the Champion of All Women, you certainly drop to your knees often enough. Seems like Champion of All Fallen Women is more like it.” Pascal stands up and looms over the weary and mortified Amazon, his face dark, backlit by the overhead fluorescent light.

“What do you want from me, Pascal?” She looks up, holding her hand over her eyes to try to shield the glare. “You’ve had your fun. You’ve shamed the great Wonder Woman and have it on camera. Haven’t you reached your goal at last?”

“Not even close, knockers! Stand up, I have got something I have to do.”

“What now, Pascal?”

“Attitude? You’re giving me attitude?”

“I’m tired. And weak. I can’t think straight. Whatever you put in that enema stick has left me shaky and dizzy.”

“Marvelous! It is working up to my exacting specifications then. Get on your feet, cow. This is something I want and since you are under my thrall thanks to this golden rope of yours, you have to do what I say.”

“Okay, okay,” says Diana as she rolls over, pushes onto all fours and slowly gets to her feet. “I’m doing it.” She is hunched over and wavering badly on her feet, almost too spent to stand.

“More attitude?” Pascal is annoyed that the rope doesn’t quite seem to be the forceful weapon he thought it would be. True, she sucked his cock but she’d been badly weakened and scared and powerfully stimulated as well. She might have done it even without the lasso’s influence. He wasn’t sure and didn’t know that much about it. Truth be told, he feared it. It seemed an uncertainty in his world and he demanded order in all things. But there were steps he could and would take to bring his full final plan to fruition. And he was about to do just...

Her mighty uppercut came out of nowhere. Launched from her crouching position that he’d thought was a stance close to exhaustion, it had been a ruse. Her balled fist connected with his gut in a stunning blow that knocked him backward three steps, bent over and gasping for air. And then the end of the lasso was out of his hand, yanked from his grip like a new toy by the school bully. It wasn’t the first time that had happened in his life. It was why he sought control in adulthood. He had become the bully he’d once feared to offset the shame of the four-eyed, pocket-protector-wearing prey he’d been throughout his early years.

But now his toy was gone and Wonder Woman was tossing it his way. She’d already made a loop and it was soaring through the air right at him. And he was too out of breath and stunned to do anything. The lasso fell over his shoulders and she snared him in it tightly.

“Straighten up and then stand still!” She commands loudly, drawing herself up to her full height, pulling up the remains of her bustier to cover her breasts and walking boldly up to her adversary with a gleam of triumph in her eyes at last. It had been a long time coming. Thank goodness her belt had finally surged enough to act.

Standing in front of the Frenchman, she vents her anger and frustration at him. He merely stands there watching her mouth move in a violent snarl.

“You are a despicable human being, Pascal. Perverting the value of science for your own gains. Killing innocent young women. Destroying anything of value that comes into your sphere. How do you live with yourself?”

“I let my hatred of you and my need for revenge keep me warm at night, Wonder Woman. The injustice you visited upon my sister evens all scores in my book.”

“Well it doesn’t in mine, Frenchy! Now turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“As you wish.”

Pascal turns so rapidly and so unexpectedly that Wonder Woman is completely surprised. His hands, behind his back, as she commanded strike her hard, his balled fists smashing like two cannonballs into her breasts from both sides.


Wonder Woman arches backward in agony, dropping her end of the lasso and reeling away, off to the side, clutching her breasts with both hands and groaning in pain. The belt hadn’t given her nearly as much energy as she had thought and she’d used up too much of it by yanking the lasso away from Pascal and then ensnaring him and venting at him with her all too precious energy reserves. With no mind at the end of the rope to command him, Pascal easily slips the golden lasso over his head and tosses it aside onto a low storage shelf, out of the way for now.

He shudders as he looks at the coiled golden circle lying there.

“I really do hate that nasty thing.” Even being subjected to its effects for a short time, he realized he’d been wrong about it’s effectiveness. His willpower through the magic lasso definitely had Wonder Woman sucking his cock. Even for the moments it was around him, he felt that whatever she had said should be followed. It was important to do what the holder of the rope wanted. Critical. The fact that Wonder Woman hadn’t been specific about how quickly he could turn and how savagely he could thrust his hands behind him had been a terrible oversight for the Amazon. One would think so many years of using that despicable magic rope would have taught her a thing or two about being more specific in her commands. Maybe everything he’d subjected her to throughout the evening had thrown her off her game.

All his conjecture took place in mere seconds and as he looked over at Wonder Woman, he saw her leaning against a metal shelf of gallon-sized chemical containers. She was rubbing her breasts, her head bent forward and seemingly fighting nausea. She was gulping spastically, trying to fight the rising gorge it seemed.

But Rene was wary of her. She was very tricky and you couldn’t take anything for granted about her actions. He respected her for that. It was one of the only character traits she had that he did respect. In fact, she was still way too tricky for his liking. He would have to dose her heavily again with his neural inhibitors. They seemed to have worn off for the most part. Thank goodness the drugs in the enema stick were good for another six hours or more.

Guardedly, Pascal walks near her, pulling his small knife from the pocket of his suit jacket. He flips it open and it locks in place: a 5" blade.

“Let us tango, cunt. You no longer have your precious lasso and I am guessing you have used up a lot of your strength for now.”

Wonder Woman looks up at Pascal with a mix of anger and frustration. She’d had him dead to rights and she had made a grievous tactical error. Now they were back to physical confrontation and mind games. And with her system inundated with chemicals, she was at a definite disadvantage. Still, she’d fought longer odds before and prevailed. She had to be careful, somehow take him out quickly. If it weren’t for the nausea, she’d even feel like she had a decent chance. But all the physical abuse she’d sustained since she’d arrived had taken its toll. Along with the chemicals surging through her system, she was fighting lightheadedness and a queasiness from over-extending herself for so long. Her body was in revolt for everything she’d put it through. And now she was in a knife fight.

“I still have enough strength to deal with a lightweight like you, Pascal.”

“Big talk from a woman who can barely keep her teats covered up.”

They circle each other carefully, Pascal searching for thrusting opportunities, Wonder Woman trying to calculate her counterstrike options. When Pascal lunges forward with a hard jabbing thrust of his blade, Wonder Woman easily blocks it with her bracelet and swings her leg up to strike at his head. She’s too slow to connect and they continue to face off against each other. Another thrust by Pascal and another parry by Wonder Woman. But she is feeling queasy again as her energy reserves are almost all tapped out. When Pascal feints a third thrust, Wonder Woman throws a high kick at his wrist and shockingly he drops the knife completely and grabs her ankle, stepping into her and lifting her right leg up high. Off balance, the mighty Amazon takes a series of four short right jabs to her face from Pascal that snaps her head sideways, stops all thoughts, bloodies her nose, splits her lip and smashes into her eye. Dazed and defenseless, Wonder Woman sways in place, her arms hanging heavily at her sides, only held up by Pascal’s grip on her ankle and his hand on the front of her bustier. Once again it has been pulled down around her waist and Wonder Woman’s breasts are exposed.

“Are you not getting tired of losing to me, cherie?”

Her eyelids heavy, her expression dulled by pain and fatigue, the mighty Wonder Woman sags in Pascal’s hold. He smiles at her, bends down and picks up his knife from the storage room floor. Then he backs her up to a wall and pins her there.

“I think it is time to alter your costume, cherie. I don’t think you’re showing enough skin.”

Helpless, a dazed and beaten Wonder Woman, her face bruised and battered lifts one dreary eyebrow and mutters a dumbstruck “Whuhh?”


End of Part 9

If you like this story or have feedback that you'd like to share, you can contact the author at drdominator9@live.com I try to respond to all emails in a timely manner and welcome your comments.