WONDER WOMAN:
The Senator’s Crisis by marat
Chapter 1
The marchers stretched all the way across
Constitution Avenue and receded as far as the eye could
see. They came on in their tens of thousands,
carrying flags-US, North Vietnamese, Viet Cong--signs,
banners, all with the same message: The US out
of Vietnam. They chanted: ‘One, two, three, four,
We don’t want your fuckin’ war!’ ‘Ho, Ho, Ho Chi
Minh, The NLF is gonna win!’ Many sang along
with Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young’s Ohio,
which blared from the jerry, rigged speaker system
they had improvised. But most, and this was the
most impressive thing, were silent. They simply
marched. Hundreds and thousands of silent,
determined marchers, passing the government office
buildings leading up toward the Capitol.
On the sidewalks, tourists, residents, some
government workers, and more than a few White House
and intelligence service operatives watched them
march, many taking photographs which would
later be examined for identification.
Onward they moved, impressive and terrifying in
their mass. Armed with a sense of righteousness
and their sense of destiny, they sought to
change the Government’s mind about the war.
About a mile away, again the White House became
a fortress, surrounded by city busses, bumper to
bumper, keeping everyone outside their
perimeter. Inside, Richard Nixon and his staff planned a way
to strike back at what they believed to be the
latest assault on the US Government-THEIR
Government-by the international communist
conspiracy. They watched the marchers on TV, mostly
in silence, except for the occasional epithet:
‘Those bums!’ ‘Those fuckers!’
It was about 12.30 when the first of a series of
explosions rocked the serious and steadfast demeanor
of the march. In all there were three. Many of
the marchers panicked and raced along Constitution
Avenue or outward to the sidewalks. Police waded
into the marchers, swinging their batons,
increasing the screams and shouts among the
terrified crowd. Many of the police swore that
members of the march had thrown the bombs.
*****
Television was there. As Diana Prince and other
members of her military intelligence office watched
in horror, the explosions, the police assault on
the marchers, the bleeding and shattered bodies of the
wounded passing before the cameras led to the
kinds of questions that intelligence operatives find
themselves asking. Who threw the bombs? Why
would anti-war groups undermine their impressive
showing by bringing this unnecessary violence
into the mix? Why would they throw the bombs into
their own numbers? And the fact that the
violence had taken place in the District of Columbia made
the answers to these questions, at least in
part, a concern of Diana’s office.
Steve was still on temporary duty in Aberdeen,
and Diana had, for the last week, been spending
most of her time shuffling papers, awaiting
reassignment. Penelope had recently arrived and moved
in with her, and Diana had to get used to living
with a roommate.
General Ripper announced that there would be a
meeting in his office at two o’clock and that all
currently unassigned operatives would be placed
on this detail to follow up the events of the march.
Diana was there early.
‘Thus far,’ General Ripper told them, ‘no one or
group has claimed credit for the bombings. The
witness investigations that I’ve seen indicate
that no one watching the march saw the bombs tossed
into the marchers. What we must determine is
whether these explosives were carried by the
marchers, to be detonated at another point in
the march-which is what I believe happened-or if they
were set off by someone outside the line of
march, as an attempt to discredit the marchers-and to
injure as many of them as possible into the
bargain.’
‘Any word on the casualties yet, General?’
someone in the back of the room asked.
‘There were three explosions, none of them very
large. The count right now is four dead, thirteen
injured, two or three of those seriously.’
‘How many were injured by the police?’ Diana
asked.
General Ripper glared at her and there was a
palpable sense of his antagonism to the question. ‘We
haven’t received any reports from the hospitals
yet. That part of what went on may be overstated by
the media,’ the General said, his face turning
red. ‘Whose side are you on in this, Prince?’
‘I’m not on anyone’s side, sir. But if we’re
trying to determine what happened, we have to consider
everything that has happened today. That
includes the events before, during, and after the
explosions. We know that there is no evidence of
the explosives being tossed into the marchers. We
know the police, instead of seeking to aid those
who were injured, attacked the people who were
fleeing the scene of an explosion. It’s not
something the media made up: It’s something that was
shown on television.’
‘Just like in Chicago two years ago. The media
showed the police attacking the demonstrators, but
there were none of the provocations shown, or
even talked about. And then that Walker
Commission declares that it was the police that
rioted.’ General Ripper stopped, his face livid, his
body almost shaking. He drew a breath, then
continued. ‘These marches and demonstrations are
expected to be with us regularly for a long time
to come. If explosives are going to be a part of these
demonstrations, either by the marchers or by
those opposed to them, we need to get hold of this
situation NOW. Do you all understand? I want any
clue, no matter how seemingly insignificant,
brought up here for analysis. I want all photos
analysed for who might turn up in the background.
And I want it YESTERDAY! There WILL be no future
incidents in this city. America’s had enough
of a black eye around the world because of these
incidents. We don’t need another one next month.
Captain Mallory will be in charge, Agents
Borden, Lefkowicz, and, uh,’ he looked at Diana, then
past her, ‘Thompson will be team leaders. The
teams need to be on scene ASAP. That’s all.’
*****
Diana was assigned to Agent Francis Thompson’s
team with two other agents. Thompson was a real
jerk, and that’s probably why General Ripper
assigned her to work with him. But he would keep out
of her way, and let her carry on her
investigation free of interference. She started on Constitution
Avenue, surveying the street, looking directly
into the craters created by the explosions. They
weren’t deep, but there was still blood and gore
in the vicinity. They revealed little.
But further back up the street, Diana found
something that did offer a possibility. She found a
battered and burned backpack, such as so many
marchers had carried. It was burned from the inside
out. Evidently, it had caught on fire and had
been discarded by whomever was wearing it. Was it
possible that one of the bombs had misfired
first, caught fire and burned the pack, then exploded? But
why was the pack itself so far from the site of
the explosion? Had the bomb been removed? If that
were the case, then could it have been burning?
And why would only the bomb be removed from
the pack? Residue indicated little was left
after the flare-up in the pack.
She left the pack with Thompson, to be
chemically analysed later. What she needed to see now was
some film of the march. And for that she had to
go to the television stations. Some quick phone calls
indicated that the CBS affiliate had its cameras
closest to the point on the march where the pack was
found.
She drove to the station and made her way to the
news division. By asking around, and letting it be
known that she was investigating this day’s
incident, she eventually was led to the reporter on the
scene, Rene Thoreaux, and her cameraman, Ted
Willis. Diana questioned the two, then gained
access to the raw footage taken earlier that
day. There, in the midst of the march, off to one side and
barely noticeable, was the scuffle: Panicked
marchers pulling and tugging the smoking backpack
from the bearded marcher. The demonstrator
digging into the pack and removing what looked like a
thermos, and the pack itself being discarded.
‘Can we get a better look at him?’ Diana asked
the cameraman.
‘We can blow up a frame or two to give you a
better look, but you’ll lose some resolution,’ he told
her.
‘Well, let’s take a look.’ They again ran the
film through the viewer. ‘Here. This one,’ Diana
pointed. ‘And here.’
It took an hour to get prints of the requested
frames. They were still slightly damp from the process,
but they offered very good images of the
marcher. Studying the faces closely, Diana was about the
write off this trail as a long shot that didn’t
pay off, when something about the figure struck her.
‘Does he look familiar to you?’ she asked
Thoreaux and Willis. They looked closely, at first shaking
their heads.
‘Wait a minute,’ the bearded cameraman said.
‘He’s somebody’s son; it was in the paper. He got
busted at a march a few months ago, a month ago.
His father’s some big hitter in town.’ All three
looked more closely at the bearded, head banded
face.
‘Senator Carlton,’ Rene Thoreaux said, after a
moment. ‘His son, what’s-his-name, Todd? Ted?’
‘Terry,’ Willis corrected. ‘That’s Terry
Carlton, son of the senior Senator from Arizona, and one of
the most ardent defenders of the war.’
‘There’s a story here,’ Thoreaux exulted. ‘Thank
you, Miss Prince, you’ve offered us a lead for
tonight’s news.’
‘I know I can’t stop you from running the story,
but can’t you delay it a bit? You’re the only station
with that bit of film, can’t you do some more
digging before you go with the story?’ Diana pleaded.
‘Give me a little time to determine that there’s
nothing sinister here.’
‘You don’t know my boss or my business. I might
be able to kill it until the 11 o’clock news tonight.
Besides, there’s plenty to cover on the
explosions themselves. But, by 11 o’clock, we’ll need a new
twist to the story. The Senator could give us
that twist.’
‘What’s the Senator’s address? I only need to
interview him. Terry wasn’t among those killed or
wounded, was he?’ Diana asked.
‘I think I would have remembered his name if he
were, but let me check the list.’ Digging through
the papers on her desk, she finally pulled it
out. ‘There are two who are still unidentified among the
dead. If he’s one of those, and we find out that
he was killed in the march, I can’t promise to keep
this quiet even until 11 o’clock.’
‘Do what you can. Do you have the address?’
‘Yes.’ She dug out a thick blue notebook. Paging
through it, ‘Carlton. Carlton. Here he is.’ Thoreaux
gave Diana an address in the Alexandria suburbs.
‘Thank you, Miss Thoreaux. You’ve been most
helpful.’
*****
Time was of the essence. Diana realised that it
would take an hour or more to drive to the Senator’s
address, which she recognised as being in the
rural outskirts of Alexandria. It was an area of estates,
not homes, isolated, very difficult to by
conventional means. And, even now, the highways were
beginning to fill with traffic as Washington
visitors began to leave town for their homes and motels
outside the city. ‘I’m going to have to be a bit
unconventional. Wonder Woman can get there in a
matter of minutes, and put me right at the door
without having to deal with security. Besides,
Wonder Woman may get more answers than a single
female investigator from on office of military
intelligence.’
Outside the station, Diana moved to a secluded
area near a dumpster. Twirling into her superheroine
alter ego, she raced out of town along the
unfinished parkways, towards the Virginia countryside.
A quarter of an hour later, she stood outside
the large gate that guarded the Senator’s property.
There were thick stone pillars which supported
the gates, and the stone walls ran off in both
directions, disappearing into the foliage. On
this summer day, it would be light for a few more hours
yet, so Wonder Woman decided that a direct
approach to the house would be the most fruitful. She
leaped over the gate and raced easily along the
driveway. By car it would have taken ten minutes to
reach the house along the winding and hilly
drive, but she covered the distance in less than two
minutes.
*****
Her arrival was remarked upon by security, and
the Senator was notified immediately of the
superheroine’s presence. The television monitors
stationed at the gate and at intervals along the
driveway tracked her progress toward the house.
The Senator received word of her coming without
comment.
*****
Wonder Woman stood on the unpaved driveway
before the house. The cameras revealed an
imposing figure. In the late afternoon light,
her tiara glistened in the declining sun, the reddening
light burnishing her smooth and muscular form.
As she walked toward the front door, the soft satin
rustle of her uniform and the three-inch heels
of her red boots were the only sounds to compete with
the chirping of the birds and the rasping of the
insects.
She climbed the two steps leading to the enclave
and knocked on the door.
A nattily attired gentleman, somewhat elderly,
answered the door. ‘Yes?’ he inquired with a hint of
a lisp and a faint foreign accent.
‘I’m Wonder Woman. I’m helping to investigate
the bombings today in Washington and I’d like to
ask the Senator a few questions. May I see him?’
‘Senator Carlton is available. I’ll see if he
will meet with you. Please come this way.’ He led the
powerful Amazon inside. What she saw there was
as impressive as the exterior of the house.
Directly in front of her was a sunken garden,
immediately under a glass ceiling. To her left, a curving
marble staircase. She was led to her right, into
what was evidently a library. As she moved across
the hall, he heels clicked on the marble floor.
‘Wait in here, please, Miss.’ He closed the door as he
left.
It was no more than two minutes later when the
Senator burst into the room with a flurry of
conviviality. He was easily recognisable. The
shock of white hair, combed straight back, the large
white moustache. In fact, but for his extreme
political views, particularly on the war and national
defense, his personal style might be more akin
to the look of the young New Left devotees now on
campus.
‘Wonder Woman. Always a pleasure to see you. I
was told that you were investigating the
bombings of that treasonous mob this morning.
How can I possibly help you in this?’
‘Senator Carlton, I must be brief because one of
the television stations may be forced to break this
story before I can get to the bottom of it. I
presume you know your son Terry took part in the march
today.’
‘Terry left a couple of days ago. Sometimes he
is gone for several days at a time, staying with others
who see things more as he does. But he always
has come home. To answer your question, I didn’t
know he was marching, but I’m not surprised.’
‘Do you know where he is now, or with whom he
has spent the last few days?’
‘No, in both cases. Is there something wrong?’
‘I don’t know, but he may have been injured in
one of the explosions. One of the TV stations has
film of him during the march. His backpack
caught fire, and he’s seen removing a thermos or
something of the kind from the pack. There are
two dead who haven’t been identified and he was in
the vicinity of one of the explosions. It’s
quite possible he’s all right. You haven’t heard anything
from him or one of the hospitals?’
Senator Carlton listened without apparent
response until Wonder Woman mentioned the thermos.
Then his eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped
perceptibly.
Gathering himself, he told the Amazon. ‘I’m
sorry. I… don’t know… very much… about….’ He
stopped as the door opened and one of his staff
approached him. After a brief whispered
conversation, the Senator turned to his guest.
‘Excuse me for a moment, Wonder Woman. I’ll be
back in a moment. I don’t know if I can help you
but I may be able to offer some… information.’
He left the room with the staff member. A few
minutes later he returned.
Running his hand over his hair, pushing it back,
he asked where the Amazon Princess had seen the
film of his son. She mentioned that the CBS
affiliate had it.
‘They’ve just called, asking similar questions
as you have asked,’ he said. ‘I’ve told them nothing.
But maybe I can provide you with something to
use in your investigation. Please come here.’ He led
her to one of the tables in the large library.
‘Take a look at this letter.’
Wonder Woman moved to the table as the Senator
removed a letter from an envelope. He placed it
on the table. She saw the signature, ‘Terry,’
and hoped that the letter might offer some information
on where the boy had gone. The Senator told her
that the letter was left behind by his son on the day
he left.
‘May I read the letter, Senator?’ the Amazon
asked.
‘By all means.’
Wonder Woman took the letter from the apparently
concerned father and began reading silently.
From what she could tell, it was a denunciation
of his father’s views. Terry condemned his father as
a vindictive and destructive old man who would
destroy the country in order to save it. The last
thing she read was his threat to expose his
father’s plans for undermining civil rights.
Just as she had read this portion of the
missive, an arm grabbed her tightly around her waist and a
heavy cloth was crushed over her mouth and nose.
She struggled, grabbing at the person who held
her, as the familiar odor of chloroform filled
her nose, mouth, and throat. Her struggles weakened, her
liquid blue eyes closed, finally her arms
dropped to her sides, and she was unconscious.
The Senator’s staff person lowered the inert
body of the Amazon Princess to the floor. ‘Thank you,
Dennis. I’ll take care of things from here,’ the
Senator told him, and the young man left the room.
The Senator reached down and removed the magic
lasso from Wonder Woman’s golden belt. He
placed it around her bare upper chest and drew
it tight. Then he waited for the Amazon to recover.
*****
He didn’t have to wait long. Wonder Woman’s
powerful constitution revived her in a short while,
but she was aware immediately of the position
she was in.
Whenever Wonder Woman was captured by her own
lasso, she had reason to fear. She never knew
what kind of person held the lasso. She felt her
will leave her under its influence, but for the moment,
the Senator was satisfied with confining his
captive. He led her from the library to a stairwell leading
downstairs to a series of levels below the house
itself. As her captor led her down the stairs, he
flicked on a bank of lights, illuminating a
dusty, narrow hall. He then led her to one of a series of
doors along that hall, unlocked it, and entered,
the Amazon prisoner following.
‘I know that you can untie yourself if you are
bound by your own lasso and left to yourself.
However, you will not be alone for long, and
this rope is unbreakable, even for you. On your knees,
Wonder Woman.’ As the Amazon Princess dropped to
her knees, Senator Carlton wrapped the
golden rope around her shoulders four or five
times, then brought it to her wrists, which he carefully
tied, tightly. Still holding the magic lasso, he
placed his western-style boot against her bare back and
shoved her forward, pushing her chest to the
floor. He then proceeded to hogtie the Princess,
winding the rope between wrists and ankles,
securing her leather boots hard against her bracelets.
When he was done, she could only wriggle her
hands uselessly, unable to reach the knots which
bound her. He then wrapped the rope around her
thighs, drawing her powerful, tanned legs together.
‘You’ll have only a few moments to attempt to
escape, Wonder Woman. I must leave you and return
to our Center. There will be some guards
arriving shortly to make sure you stay under our control.’
With that he said, ‘Farewell,’ opened the door,
and, hearing several sets of footsteps on the stone
steps at the end of the hall, he turned to the
hogtied heroine and said, ‘They’re here sooner than I
expected. It looks like you won’t even have the
time I thought you would have. Too bad.’
Wonder Woman was alone to ponder her
helplessness for only a few moments when four men in
black uniforms with silver trim entered the
room. One of them, evidently in charge, took hold of the
end of the golden rope. ‘Senator says,’ he told
the bound Princess, ‘that we should enjoy ourselves.’
*****
Wonder Woman lay on her stomach and chest, her
arms running straight back from her shoulders,
her wrists secured to her ankles, her hands
laying palms outward. Her thighs were bound together
and the rope was wrapped around her upper arms
as well. Wrapped thus in her own lasso, the
Amazon Princess from Paradise Island was utterly
helpless before her captors.
The leader of the guards looming over the
once-mighty Wonder Woman smiled down on her.
‘Senator said to take care of you. I’ve seen
what you can do, tossing men around. You won’t get a
chance to do that here. Senator says that we need
to teach you a lesson about misusing the symbols
of America that you wear. That uniform should be
more about what America should be about: the
eagle, the stars, the colours; America’s power,
and dreams for the world, and pride. Senator says you
talk too much about rights and not enough about
responsibilities. You need to be getting people to
support what out Government’s trying to do.
Instead, you protect hippies and communists. Senator
said to teach you a lesson before you leave.’
Though Wonder Woman’s beautiful face remained
impassive, the pain she was feeling as a result
of how she was tied, and the determination of these
men before her frightened her.
The commander of the guards began to untie his
prisoner. The way the Senator had tied her had
forced most of Wonder Woman’s weight onto her
stomach and hips. Her captor now pushed her
roughly onto her side as he began to unwind the
lasso from around her tanned, perfect thighs. He
stooped as he untied her wrists and ankles, and
Wonder Woman breathed a sigh as the pressure this
was placing on her chest was relieved. ‘Louis!
Willi!’ he ordered. ‘Stand her up and hold her arms!’
The Amazon was dragged roughly to her feet and
her arms were held by the two men as their chief
unwound the loops of the golden rope from her
chest. When there was a single loop left, he pushed it
around her neck and pulled the lasso tight.
‘You must obey whoever holds the lasso, no?’ he
asked.
‘I am compelled to obey whoever holds the
lasso,’ the prisoner replied.
“Let’s see this power of the lasso. Somersault
like a clown,’ he ordered and the two men released
her arms. The bound Amazon prisoner obeyed her
captor and performed for him.
‘Ho, ho. This could be very amusing. What shall
we have her do for us next?’ The men standing
around offered suggestions for further commands.
For the next twenty minutes, the Princess of
Paradise Island was treated like a clown by her captors,
as her golden lasso compelled her to perform a
series of stunts: she spun on her head, performed
pratfalls, underwent a series of calisthenics,
bounced her body off the walls and floor of the cell, and
on and on. The exertions made her body glisten
with sweat and the dirt and debris she picked up
marred her perfection. But it also excited the
men who were toying with her. Their laughter filled
the room.
As Wonder Woman picked herself up from the
floor, her captor asked, ‘You are a Princess, is that
not so?’
‘Yes, I am a Princess of the Amazons, daughter
of Queen Hippolyte,’ she responded, burning with
humiliation that Amazon royalty should be
treated in this way.
‘And this crown,’ he asked, pointing to her
tiara, ‘is a symbol of your rank?’
‘My title is one of the things is symbolises.’
‘Then,’ he said slowly, ‘on your knees.
Princess.’ Wonder Woman slowly dropped to her knees. The
black-garbed guard took her chin in his hand.
Turning her head so that she was looking up at him,
facing him, he then moved the other hand to her
tiara. Yanking the circlet from her head, her raven
hair went flying out in all directions. ‘A
princess. Stripped of her crown. How easily it is removed.’
The men watching began to laugh again. ‘Perhaps
we can remove other things from this princess’
person.’ They laughed harder, and began nudging
one another. ‘Look at this. The once-mighty
Wonder Woman. On her knees! To us!’ he exulted.
The laughter increased and some cheers entered,
as the Amazon stared at her captor. ‘You cannot
do anything but follow my orders, can you?
Princess?’
‘The magic lasso compels me to obey,’ the helpless
heroine said softly.
‘Remove your uniform.’ The captive Wonder Woman
reached around behind her and undid her
golden belt, which dropped to the floor and lay
next to her tiara. As she did so, the watching guards
pushed closer to their powerless prisoner,
licking their lips. Under the power of the magic lasso,
Wonder Woman now reached behind her again and
released her bustier and eagle-design
breastplate. There was an audible intake of
breath as her round, full breasts came into view. One of
the men moved his hand toward the Amazon’s body,
but then thought better of it as he looked as his
commander. The red-and-gold part of the costume
was added to the collection of artifacts in front of
the helpless Amazon.
She now moved to remove her star-spangled
tights, but her captor ordered, ‘Wait. Stand up and
remain in place.’ Wonder Woman rose to her feet,
clad now only in her bracelets, her blue and
white-starred tights, and her red boots. She
stood before the four men with the golden lasso around
her throat. ‘You cannot resist us in anything,
can you?’ the leader asked.
‘No.’
With that, the chief of the guards drove his
fist deep into Wonder Woman’s abdomen, driving the air
out of her body. She staggered backward to the
wall, then stood erect and unresisting before the
guards, catching her breath. ‘You bitch! I have
waited to avenge all the men you have beaten! Now
you’ll know the rightful status of women. Come
here!’ Wonder Woman walked forward to her
tormentors, only to have another powerful blow
drive into her stomach. She doubled over and
dropped to one knee. ‘Man’s inferior!’ he
shouted at her. ‘Man’s plaything! Before we finish with
you, you’ll have good reason to regret
everything you have done to men, your rightful superiors! Get
up, you bitch!’ he screamed as he yanked on the
lasso. Painfully, the Amazon Princess rose.
As she reached her feet, punches and slaps began
to rain down upon her from all four men
surrounding the helpless and unresisting
Princess. She was struck in the face, in the kidney, again
and again in the breasts and stomach, in the
back of her head. All the while, the men who unleashed
their anger at her poured their invectives over
her.
‘Star-spangled Wonder Bitch! Can’t defend
yourself?’ ‘You cunt!’ ‘This is for years of what you’ve
done, you goddamn slut!’ The blows drove her
around the room. Each time she dropped to the floor,
a new order forced her to rise. Each time she
was driven into a wall, a sharp tug on the lasso brought
her back to her attackers. And all the while, the
Princess of the Amazons was not able to raise even
a hand in her own defense.
She collapsed to the floor and was kicked in the
back, in the stomach, in the legs, in the breasts and
face. Small trickles of blood flowed from her
cut lip. Ordered again to rise, the next series of blows
drove her against a wall. She stood there as she
was pelted by blow after blow. Slowly she was
driven to her knees. Once there, one of the men
took her long black hair in his fist and drove her face
directly into the brick wall. More blood dripped
down her chin. Two of the guards began kicking her
as she leaned against the wall on her knees. The
support of the wall was the only thing holding her
up at this point. They kicked her in the chest
and in the stomach. ‘Come on, bitch! What’s the
matter? Can’t fight back? Where are your great
Amazon powers now?’ ‘How does it feel, you slut?
All those men you’ve beaten are finally seeing
that you can be taken too. Where’s that great
strength?’ She finally settled to the floor of
the cell under the unremitting attack, laying on her right
side, breathing heavily. But she was still
conscious, though only barely, and still under the power of
her own lasso.
‘Get up!’ the man holding the lasso ordered.
Slowly, the battered body of the Champion of All
Women staggered to her feet. She put her hand to
the wall to steady herself. ‘Remove your tights,
you slut!’ Wonder Woman reached down to her
hip-hugging tights and slowly pulled them down,
revealing her flat stomach, her rounded cheeks,
and her raven bush. Again, the men grew silent at
the sight of her perfection. She pulled her
tights past her leather boots to the floor. Then she stepped
out of them, leaving them where they lay. ‘Hand
them to me,’ the commander ordered. The
powerless Amazon reached down, picked up the
tights, and handed them to the black-uniformed
chief.
‘They are wet,’ he noted. ‘Sweat,’ he said, as
he smelled them. ‘Sweat, and…’ he smiled, as the
involuntary dampness filled his nostrils. ‘Oh,
you are a slut. Lay down.’ When the helpless Wonder
Woman had done so, he walked over to her. He
looked down on her sweaty body glistening in the
direct light of the cell. Her chest rose and
fell as she breathed heavily in the face of her ordeal. The
blood on her lip had dried. ‘How do I make you
powerless?’ he asked.
‘When an Amazon’s wrists are chained by a man,
she loses her Amazon strength,’ Wonder Woman
answered quietly, her spirit sinking.
He nodded. He looked up at the security camera
in the corner of the cell, knowing that the entire
security force now knew her answer. While he
took his black boot and pushed her red leather boots
outward, another of the guards walked to the
camera and turned it off. The commander then stepped
between her legs and smiled down on the supine
superheroine. Smiling and looking for approval
from the three men who were with him, he knelt
between the tan, well-muscled thighs of the captive
Amazon. He took her tights and shoved them in
her mouth. ‘How appropriate that a slut like you
will be silenced by that American symbol. Now, I
expect you will see many more stars before we
are done.’
He undid his pants and pulled out his erect
cock.
The rape of Wonder Woman began. It would last
for hours. After these four had done their worst,
another group of four would enter, and then
another. Held powerless by her own greatest weapon,
muffled by the improvised gag that had
previously been part of her uniform, the only sounds were
the taunts of the succession of men and the
heavy breathing of the Amazon Princess as she
underwent her ordeal.
First, the commander plunged his penis deep into
the helpless woman before him. He drove his cock
like a piston in and out of the Amazon’s cunt,
drawing a muffled grunt from her each time he
rammed it home. Wonder Woman lay still under
him, the influence of the magic lasso holding her in
place. Finally, like many others who would
follow, angered by the lack of response in his partner, the
leader began punching the Princess,
rhythmically, with each of his thrusts. When he came, he
withdrew and came across her torso, white
strands of his manhood glistening on her stomach and
her breasts.
The commander rolled off the Amazon, still
holding the magic rope. Now, the second man had his
turn. Rolling Wonder Woman to her stomach, he drew
her up to her knees and elbows. Seizing her
perfect ass, he sodomised the captive Princess.
The sight gave rise to waves of laughter from the men
who watched. His nine-inch penis inflicted both
pain and humiliation on the woman. He too drove
deep into her, finally cumming amid a spray of
his own sweat and saliva. Her unresponsiveness had
angered him as well, and, after he withdrew and
stood up, he leveled a sharp kick at the Amazon’s
midsection, driving the woman to her back.
The third man returned to Wonder Woman’s cunt.
He began by finger-fucking her, driving first one,
then two fingers, finally pushing his full fist
into the Amazon’s unwilling and sore pussy. He twisted
the fist for several minutes, seemingly trying
to push up to the wrist inside Wonder Woman. He
moved around on top of her, eventually
straddling her torso. When he finally came, he did so in her
face, spraying her eyes, hair, cheeks, and ears
with his seed, and even getting some on part of the
tights, which dangled out of Wonder Woman’s
mouth.
The fourth man, like the commander, took his
erect penis and drove it into the helpless woman. Like
his chief, he was not satisfied to rape the
heroine; he had to demonstrate his power over her, as he
slapped her during the entire time of his assault.
After three more groups of uniformed men had
come and gone, the original group of four returned.
Wonder Woman lay helpless, unmoving on the
floor, her magnificent body covered with dried cum,
her leather boots lying in cum and sweat
surrounding her. Not even a moan had escaped her during
the entire ordeal, only the grunts resulting
from the male thrusts into her. She could not resist this
multiple rape, controlled by her magic lasso.
Her mind screamed at her to resist, but her will
remained under the power of the lasso. As the
curses rolled over her, the shame and humiliation of
her powerlessness, her helplessness, burned deep
within her. Though tears welled up in her eyes,
they did not escape. There was no other sign
from the Amazon.
The commander of the first group again held the
lasso, ready to begin.
‘Get up ‘Wonder Bitch! It’s time for more fun!’
He threw her tights, which had by this time found
their way to the floor, in her face. ‘Put these
on,’ he ordered, yanking her upward with the golden
rope, still around her. Wonder Woman stumbled to
her feet. She pulled the tights on, and she felt the
pain and soreness in her vagina and anus from
the many rounds of rape she had endured. ‘Now you
know what women are good for. Kneel down, slut,
and satisfy me once more.’ Again, the powerless
Amazon dropped to her knees.
Massaging his cock, he withdrew it from his
black pants. Then he began rubbing the engorging
member against Wonder Woman’s face. ‘Open your
mouth.’ Rubbing himself against the Amazon’s
cheeks, the commander’s cock grew again, and he
thrust it into her, causing her to gag when it
struck the back of her throat. ‘Suck me, slut.’
The Amazon Princess wrapped her red lips around his
full member, her cheeks drawing in as she
powerfully sucked her captor. He briefly looked at the
men who served under him. They were relaxed,
each waiting his turn, leaning against the walls of
the cell. He smiled at the thought of his
superiority to these men and to this beautiful and helpless
woman. As he peaked a second time, he began to
cum in the mouth of the battered woman. His
breathing became ragged and he started to sway
on his feet. The vision of his power was
overwhelming. The muscles in his arms and
shoulders relaxed, and… he dropped Wonder Woman’s
lasso.
End of Chapter 1
Comments, questions, suggestions welcome::
contact the author at marat1793@comcast.net