Wonder Woman, Wonder Girl and any other characters from the Wonder Woman story line are copyrighted by DC comics. Any similarity between names, characters and places in this story are purely coincidental. This story is written solely for entertainment purposes and cannot be used or redistributed for the purposes of making money or profit. WARNING - WARNING - WARNING - WARNING - WARNING This story contains very descriptive scenes of sex, excessive bondage and rape. If you do not like to read such material DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!!!! This story and its material are based on the Wonder Woman TV series that aired in the '80s. It is simply one of my fantasy episodes. Again, this story contains material of a dark nature. If you are offended, do not flame me, just simply ignore this posting. From part 1... Pamela changed into the black shorts, tennis shoes and shirt. The shorts were basically men's cotton pants cut off just where the legs met the waist. They were rather snug but comfortable and showed off all of her long white legs. She put on the shirt and tightly tied the bottom halves together in a knot around her lower chest to support her breasts. This left her stomach exposed along with a good deal of cleavage. It was hot and she felt the more ventilation the better. Besides, getting sand out of a bra was a pain and she always hated that feeling. Anyway who was going to see her. This was probably a wild goose chase anyway. The Domination of Wonder Woman - Part 2. Pamela slowly started to make her way down the cliff's winding trail toward the obscured beach below. As she got lower and lower she could hear the surf pounding on the rocks. Seagulls soared upward on pillars of air toward the mid afternoon sky and then took dive after dive into the ocean water to catch fish. After about 10 minutes of slow decent, Pamela reached the narrow beach that lined the base of the cliffs. From this point not only could she not see the road but she couldn't see her car as well. The cliffs rose vertically for 40 or 50 feet forming an ominous wall before her. Without the trail to take her back up, she would probably be trapped on the beach and be washed out to sea when the tide came in. Picking up a piece of driftwood and using it as a cane, she climbed over the rocks and plodded through the sand toward the northern end of the beach. There, looming in front of her were tons of boulders blocking her progress north. "Oh well, nothing down here except a bunch of dead, smelly fish anyway." Pamela huffed as she turned and started back over the boulders toward the south. As she turned, her foot slipped out from under her and her rear end came down hard on the boulder she was just standing on. Sitting there for a moment contemplating what kind of inept clod she was, she grabbed a nearby boulder and proceeded to get up. Her hand suddenly slipped out from under her weight and again her rear pounded into the rock. "What the?..." she said in frustration as she held her hand up. Dripping from her hand was a clump of dark, black ooze which slowly rolled down her upper arm. Wiping her hand back and forth several times she shook the ooze onto a nearby rock. She rubbed the remnants between her fingers and then took a quick sniff. "Lubricating oil? Its almost fresh. How can...." and looking out at the shore she saw the seagulls diving in and scooping out dead fish after dead fish from the water. "The fish!". Pamela got up, walked to the shore and dipped her fingers in the churning water. Her fingers came out covered in a thick rainbowish film of oil. Looking out across the water along the shore to the north, she could see the same rainbow effect in the water beyond the wall of boulders that blocked her path. With her walking stick in hand she proceeded to climb the boulders to see what was on the other side of this wall. After climbing 10 feet with ease, her progress was suddenly met with an impassable wall of rocks. There was no way to get a foot hold nor any way to skirt around it short of jumping in the water and swimming around. The though of jumping in that slimy, oily, rotting, fish infested water and swimming against the current quickly changed her mind about that idea. "Oh well, I'll just have to come back with some rope in the morning. Its probably nothing anyway. Just some fishermen dumping oil or something." but as Pamela turned to leave she could faintly hear a very soft 'ting' from behind the wall of rocks. Out on the beach the surf's roar was so loud she could barely hear herself think but up against the rocks, the surf was deadened and the 'ting' continued to repeat. Now curiosity drove her to get past the rocks. Looking for a moment she suddenly noticed a white, hard substance between some of the rocks. "Mortar? On a beach?" and she began to feel along the mortared seam, tracing it around the rocks. Then, at mid level, she noticed one rock protruding outward. It seemed very unnatural as it jutted straight out of a solid block of rock. What's more, there was a gap all the way around where the stone met the rock wall. It was as though the stone was floating sideways in a hole in the wall. After examining it a bit, she put her hands on it and gave it a slight shove. Surprisingly it moved inward making a slight grinding sound. She then pushed on it again, leaning completely into it and forcing the stone to flatten against the surrounding rocks. At that moment she could hear a grinding noise to her left as a section of the rock face swung open to reveal a door. Slowly and cautiously Pamela picked up her walking stick and, holding it like a club, proceeded to enter the dark and mysterious doorway. As she went from daylight to pitch dark it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. After a few moments, she could see she was on the other side of the rock wall. On this side however things looked a lot different. Apparently the outside wall was built up to wall off the entrance to a cave that ran through the cliff from one side to the other. On the inside she could see the wall was built up of various rocks into a vertical wall with various metal Ibeams and struts supporting it. The weight mechanisms for the door were clearly visible from this side of the wall. Along the roof was strung a thick electrical cable with a string of light bulbs hanging from it. This probably explained the odd lights people reported seeing from the beach. As the door opened at night, the light from the bulbs would escape onto the pitch dark beach. Pamela stealthily moved through the tunnel, keeping to one side so as not to be seen easily. The 'ting' sound she heard earlier grew noticeably louder as she approached the other end of the tunnel. As she reached the other end she quickly ducked behind a small pile of rocks. The tunnel opened onto the side of a large, underground grotto which was apparently formed by tidal actions over several thousand years. The deep, almost cylindrical tunnel ran from the ocean, through the side of the mountain and into its depths for several hundred feet. The mouth of the tunnel was covered with a huge camouflage net with what appeared to be various large brown sponges attached to it. From far away, the sponges and netting would probably look exactly like the surrounding rock. At the other end of the tunnel was the source of the 'ting' sound. Anchored, and almost dry docked, was a German Type IV U-boat. It sat on several large I-Beams that ran underneath it and which acted like a giant cradle holding the boat right side up in the low tidal water. The water level was extremely low, low enough for several men to walk chest deep in the water and work on the sides of the hull. The 'ting' sound came from the upper deck of the U-Boat as a man, with a huge sledge hammer, pounded away at something or other. Pamela sat for a minute in awe of this spectacle. She hated the Nazis and what they stood for but sometimes, like in this case, they pulled off some pretty impressive feats. This secret dry-dock was no exception and it had to be shutdown immediately. If that sub could maneuver into the shipping lanes, it could torpedo freighters and warships and return here to rearm and refuel. It could harass shipping for years. Suddenly Pamela noticed some activity on a wooden dock that ran along the front of the U-Boat at the far end of the grotto. She spied the mingling of people intensely and froze in shock. There, wearing a black raincoat and hat, was one of Nazi Germany's most ruthless spies, Countess Gretta Orlaph. This woman could be considered her Nazi counterpart except for the fact Pamela would never conceive of doing a tenth of the horrid atrocities this woman was credited with. Not only was this woman a murderer, she was a cold blooded psychopath who took great enjoyment in torturing her victims. Being at the hands of the Countess meant certain slow and painful death. The Countess stood with two gentlemen and several Nazi workers. The two gentlemen also wore black raincoats and were unrecognizable to Pamela. They had to be top operative though since the great Countess never worked with "amateurs and thugs". "Boy I can't wait to turn in this base's location. Not only will we nail a secret U-Boat base, we'll also nail the Countess herself and her gang of goons." Pamela softly whispered to herself. But as she sat watching the spies on the dock, she felt a small, cylindrical object press into the middle of her back. "Get up frauline and keep ze hands vhere I can zee them." said a deep German voice behind her. Pamela's eyes lit up as she slowly rose to her feet with her back to the gunman. "Hey... Hey Franz." shouted the gunman, "Comin z here. I have caught a little spy." And with that shout several workers began racing down the gangway toward the side tunnel entrance. They were several hundred feet away but, at a good jog, they would be on her in only a few minutes. "Turn around slowly frauline." ordered the gunman, "let me have a look at you." Pamela slowly turned to face the mysterious man behind her. The man was one of the workers, apparently using the tunnel to travel to and from the highway. He was a stocky, rather disgusting gentleman wearing large, blue overalls, a ragged, oil soaked T-shirt and tattered work boots. As she turned to face him his face lit up with a small, perverse smile as his eyes shifted downward toward Pamela's bare legs and tight shirt. "You American girls are most attractive. I do so much enjoy being in America." the pot- bellied worker slurred as he gaped at her shapely body. Thinking quickly Pamela realized she had an edge. Her arms were held up at her sides with her hands about level with her head. Swinging her elbows inward, she slowly squeezed her large breasts together, creating a rather impressive canyon of cleavage. At the same time she cocked her hips to one side, bring her legs and thighs together and bending one leg slightly at the knee. She then bent slighlty forward toward the worker and her full red lips sprouted a small, dreamy smile. With this stance she could probably pose for any cheesecake, war calendar and probably be the most popular month. "Oh please don't hurt me." Pamela said softly and slowly as she batted her long eyelashes innocently, "I wasn't doing anything wrong, I promise. I'll do anything you want if just don't hurt me." She looked deep into his eyes with her best 'who me' school girl look. Her eyes blossomed into two, big, blue pools of pure helplessness. "Don't worry my dear." said the worker as he approached her, reaching out to grab her upper arm with his free hand. "We won't hurt you. We just want to ask you a few questions." he continued staring intensely at her large, round breasts. "Oh I'm not worried," Pamela replied. Suddenly, with blinding agility, she let out a powerful front kick that landed between the workers legs. At first she thought he was going to scream like a wild animal and maneuvered herself so she could knock him out with a karate blow. The worker didn't scream, however. Instead, he froze in a prone, hunched over position and slowly tilted over, falling with a low, dull thump to the dirt floor like a thick oak tree crashing to the ground. "Gets em every time." she beamed as she picked up the gun and shook the sand off of it. As she did so she could hear the other workers climbing up the catwalk that connected the side tunnel entrance to the grotto. "Oh boy. I'd better beat it, but quick, or I'm going to end up the guest of honor at a Nazi gang bang party." She bolted for the entrance door and, as she reached it, she could here the workers at the other end picking up their stunned friend. "Damned American bitch!" she could hear "We'll fix her good!" Getting outside was a lot easier than getting in but she had to do something to slow them down. There was no way she was going to make it up the cliff without them taking a shot at her. Maybe Wonder Woman could handle these thugs but not her. One lone girl with a Lugar wasn't going to hold off 20 or 30 men. As the door shut, she noticed the stone switch extending itself back out from the rock. "If I could jam that switch..." she thought. Quickly using the only hard thing she had, Pamela wedged the barrel of the Lugar into the crack between the switch stone and the surround rock. After securing the pistol, she headed back for the path, bolting and bounding from rock to rock like some adrenaline pumped mountain goat. Stopping for just a moment, she looked down the cliff to see if she was being chased or, worse yet, being fired upon. The pounding surf was so loud the workers could have been firing cannon shells at her and she wouldn't have heard them. At first she thought the wedged gun didn't work as she could see the door opening. But it quickly stopped after only a few inches and she could see it opening and closing as though the men were trying to force it open. "Good thing he was carrying a Lugar instead of a 45," she thought as she continued up the rocks "I never would have gotten the barrel jammed in the rock if it was a 45." Reaching her Desoto, she whipped open the door and fired up the engine, slamming it into reverse and flattening the gas pedal in one swift, fluid motion. The car's tires spun in the soft dirt spraying up a large shower of dirt and gravel as the she maneuvered the car at high speed in reverse back up the dirt rode to the highway. "Oh NO!" she gasped as she looked through the back window of the car. Between her and the highway, two men stood with machine guns. Instantly, they opened fire on the car. Instinctively, Pamela ducked her head behind the seat, hoping she could keep the car on course. An array of 'plunking' sounds rang through the car as the spray of bullets punched through the thin steel of the body. Glass showered all over Pamela and the front seat as the bullets went through the rear and front windshields. Amazingly enough, none of them went through the seats, as she had hoped, and she continued to barrel the car like a small, black juggernaut up the dirt road. Bthump, Bthump. She could hear the bodies of the two men role over the top of the car as she rear ended them. "What idiots." she thought as she backed the car out onto the highway. "I would have at least gotten the hell out of the way." Sitting back up she slammed the car into first and headed south down the highway toward Bricksburg. This was the closest town, and the closest phone, and she had to let someone know what was going on. Since it was a Saturday and the defense department would be closed, her only hope was to contact Diana at home, that's of course, if she was home. As the car sped off, three figures walked onto the rode. Bending down one of the men wiped his fingers on a wet spot on the highway. "Petrol, her car is leaking." the man in the raincoat said in a deep German accent. "Good" said the countess in a deviously, pleasant voice. "Our little spy won't get far. Tell our agents in Bricksburg to expect a visitor. I want her brought to me ALIVE!" - - - Drucella sat at the drugstore counter, her hands cupped in her lap, her legs crossed at the ankles and her head bent over a huge chocolate malt. She didn't move a muscle except for her mouth which slowly sucked and slurped away at the ice cream desert in front of her. Around the drugstore various businessmen, housewives, the shop owner and several teenagers stared in awe. Surrounding Drucella was a plethora of 10 or 12 empty malt, sundae and ice cream dishes. Never in their lives had they seen such anyone eat so much ice cream in such a short amount of time, at least no one that didn't head for the rest room holding there mouth. "Uh, Hi. My name is Daniel." at first the feasting amazon didn't even notice the young man who sat down next to her. "Uh hello... yoo hoo.." Drucella shifted her head to one side to see the person talking to her. Raising her head she turned slowly around to look the other way thinking he was addressing someone to her other side. "Are you talking to me?" shyly asked Dru as she pulled the straw from the half empty glass and licked the ice cream remnants from it. "Yeah um.. my name is Daniel but everyone calls me Danny" stuttered the boy as he held out his hand to Dru. "Why?" "Why what?" "Why do they call you Danny?" "Cause that's my name, Danny." "I thought your name was Daniel." "It is." Danny said sheepishly retracting his hand. "How strange. You have two names?" Dru remarked as she returned to slurping up her ice cream treat. "Well at least I can't eat a dairy's worth of ice cream." replied Danny, "how can you eat so much?" Dru quickly stopped and stared in embarrassment at Danny. She then looked about the store at the gaping customers. Then she leaned toward Danny and whispered. "You mean this is a lot?" "Maybe where you come from it isn't but around here that's a kids allotment of ice cream for a whole year." replied Danny. Dru daintily plopped the straw on the counter and pushed the glass away in a quick, non-chalant manner. "Oh, well, I was done anyway. Besides, where I come from we don't have anything like ice cream sundaes or chocolate malts or rootbeer floats ...." and as she listed off all the desert treats in the store she stared hungrily at the half empty cup with her big brown eyes in an almost hypnotic trance. "Well... uh... I was wondering if you'd like to go for a ride with me in my car?" sheepishly asked Danny as he slowly waved his hand in her face in a vain attempt to disrupt her craving stare. "Ride? What ride?" asked Drucella as the spell was suddenly broken. "My car. I have a car. Would you like to go for a ride in it?" asked Danny again impatiently. Remembering what Diana said, Drucella thought that running around town with a strange boy could be construded as 'getting into trouble' though the idea sent a slight tingle down her spine. "Oh, I better not. My sister's expecting me to come home soon. In fact, I think I hear her now." Dru said as she perked her ear toward the door in a kind of pretend listening motion. "Uh, I don't hear anything. Are you sure you can't go for a ride? I know you'd love it." the boy pleaded. "Oh believe me, when my sister wants your attention, you can't refuse it." said Dru as she walked out the door of the drugstore and headed for Diana's apartment. "And I bet it would have been fun too." Dru thought in disgust, "Oh, Diana, why do you have to be so boring!" After several minutes of figuring out how the key worked in the lock, Drucella plodded into Diana's apartment and plopped down on the couch. Immediately she sprang up and headed for the icebox. After perusing the contents for several minutes, she slammed the door in disgust. "Diana you eat like a rabbit. No ice cream at all just vegetables, vegetables and more vegetables!" Drucella blurted out. As the door slammed shut, however, Dru noticed a note stuck to the handle. "Its a note from Diana." Reading it semi-out loud in a bored, droning way, Dru tossed it down on the kitchen table and stomped angrily back into the living room. "Got to work late... Got to work late" she mockingly repeated the note's message. "I guess I'll just have to sit here and read..." At that moment the phone rang. At first Dru had no idea what was going on. The bell sound rang out like a crying baby wanting attention. Dru sat up and in a panic twirling about the room in a frenzy. "OK, Diana told me about these things. A phone... yeah she said its a black thing..." and Drucella began to hunt for the source of the ringing sound. Seeing what she thought was it, Dru picked up the handset and brought it to her face. "Diana... is that you?" Dru said as she closed one eye and stared into the receiver. The voice on the other end appeared to be blurting out tons of indiscernible information and rambled on frantically. "Uh, hello.." said Dru again slowly as she put the handset to her mouth. "Diana... Diana... You've got to send help quickly." blurted the frantic voice. "Um... uh... this isn't Diana, I'm her sis...." Drucella started to say. "I'm in grave danger. There's a secret Nazi base here at Bricksburg, off Goose Island road on the beach. A U-Boat base and everything. And you're not going to believe this but the Countess is also here." rambled Pamela, "Oh my God... I've got to go. Come to Bricksburg..." click. Dru held the phone away from her face and stared at it again in complete confusion. "What was that all about?" she thought. "Hey, wait a minute. That woman said Nazis. Those are Diana's enemies." "If I could catch them that will prove to Diana I can take care of myself!" exclaimed Drucella. "But how do I get to this Bricksburg?" she wondered. Suddenly, a childishly, devilish gleam came to her eye and picking up a pen and paper she quickly jotted down a note: Dear Diana: Gone to catch some Nazi named the Countess in Bricksburg. Will be back for dinner (or at least desert). Love and Kisses Drucella Propping the note on the phone, she bolted for the door and headed for the drugstore. "I hope that Danny Daniel boy still wants to give me a ride." she said to herself. - - - Pamela quickly hung up the dime store phone and darted around the back of the phone booth. The two men who walked in the front door looked awfully suspicious but her paranoia was confirmed when the courteous store owner happily pointed toward booth and the two men started back toward her. Looking about frantically she noticed the backdoor and made a bee line for it. The two men would have to zig zag past several aisles of canned and grocery goods to reach the phone booth and she was sure they didn't see her duck down the little hallway that led to the rear exit. Watching behind her she quickly opened the door and bolted out. Halfway out the door into the alley, she felt a strong arm grab her from one side of the exit. The arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her off to one side, throwing her off balance. As she was pulled over to the side, another man wearing a black raincoat rushed her from the front and wrapped both his arms around her bare legs, lifting them off the ground and firmly holding them at bay. Her hips and thighs twisted and gyrated against the man's superior grip as she fought to get away. At the same time, the man behind her reached up and place a folded handkerchief over her nose and mouth. The overpowering waves of chloroform fumes blasted into her lungs and she struggled in vain to escape their anesthetizing effects. The three combatants formed a wriggling mass of arms and legs as Pamela thrusted and twisted to free herself. Her bare legs and round, full hips surged up and around in massive arcs as the two men held their prey from escaping. Like a snake pinned from both ends, her shapely body could only twist and wiggle in futile defiance as she continued to breathe in the anesthetic. As the three continued their gyrating dance, a black sedan quickly pulled up with the rear door flying open to scoop up the helpless blonde. The man holding Pamela's legs backed into the rear, pulling in the struggling girl while the other man forced her upper body into the back seat, making sure the chloroform stayed over her mouth. He then climbed in himself and sat down, laying Pamela's upper body on his lap. The other man, with his right arm clapped around her thighs, pulled her hips onto his lap and held her thrusting body down with his other arm. At the same time the rear door slammed shut and the car took off toward the north. After about 20 seconds, Pamela's darting, frantic eyes began to grow heavy from sleep. Like a sponge, the handkerchief slowly soaked away her consciousness until her fiery struggles were stilled. Pamela sank into the back seat, letting out a low, dull, muffled moan as she surrendered to the chloroform. As soon as the blonde agent was unconscious, the man holding the handkerchief, continued to hold it in place. He then removed another handkerchief from his coat pocket and proceeded to tie it around her mouth. This kept the drug soaked handkerchief in place while also gagging the sleeping girl. At the same time the second man rolled Pamela over, pulling both her hands behind her back. He then produced a length of thin, white rope and, while crossing her hands behind her back, he wrapped it several times horizontally and then vertically around her wrists, tying it just tight enough as to not cut off her circulation but tight enough to keep her securely bound. He then brought the long end of the rope down the back of her legs and wrapped it several times around her ankles, securing her bundled legs with several tight knots. The two men then rolled the bound and gagged Pamela over on her back and slid her down their legs onto the floor of the car, laying her on her back between the front and rear seats. Both men stared down at Pamela and their gaze moved slowly over her helpless body. "These American women are so beautiful eh Fritz." said the one man as he put his hand on her bare knee and began sliding it slowly up and down the inside of her firm, soft thigh. "Ya, I will enjoy, ehem, interrogating her." the other said as a deviantly wicked smile came across his face.