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Previously in
Wonder Woman…
Themyscria, the island
home of the immortal Amazons, has been invaded!
Through cunning strategy and treachery, a force of mercenaries led by
some of the deadliest villains on Earth has captured the women of Paradise
Island and their most well recognized daughter, Princess Diana, known to the
people of Patriarch’s World as Wonder Woman.
Along with Diana, a group of some of
Earth’s most heroic female defenders of justice and truth, on Paradise Island
to confer with the Amazons in these uncertain times, have also fallen into the
hands of the ruthless invaders.
For days, Diana has been tormented in the
villain’s insidious machine, the Pacifier, while her sister Donna Troy and the
Teen Titan known as Starfire have likewise been brutally tortured and then
raped. As part of her suffering Wonder
Woman was made to watch helplessly from her prison. Diana can only imagine what horrors her
Amazon sisters and other friends are facing, while the intruder’s ultimate plan
remains shrouded in mystery.
Vandal Savage, also an immortal and
seemingly the ringleader of the plot, has since released Diana from her painful
isolation, only to render her unconscious.
As the centuries-old evil-doer prepares the Amazon princess for her next
ordeal, others are watching from the wings.
And now, in
Wonder Woman…
Hell in
Part 2
Diana
Diana awoke to find herself in a sealed stone room, manacled with her
hands behind her back on a low stone plinth.
She was standing with her feet a few feet apart, more metal circling her
booted ankles and keeping her legs spread.
Her first surprise, once she had shaken off the effects of Savage’s
drug, was that she was no longer nude.
Diana had fully expected to awake in the villain’s private bedchamber so
that he could avail himself of the charms he had so ruthlessly been fingering
when he had sedated her. Instead she was
dressed in a black body suit that left her shoulders bare and hugged her long
body.
Unlike other women in her current circumstances, Diana did not blanch
from acknowledging the thought of rape.
Millennia ago her whole nation had been brutally assaulted by Heracles
lust crazed soldiers, and Diana held no illusions about what was happening
among her sister even as she awoke. What
these men wanted to do to her friends…and to her.
And she had seen what they had done to Donna. What they were probably still doing…
No, don’t go there Diana. Donna is
strong. She will survive. Starfire, too. Concentrate on what needs to be done. Observe
the enemy – survive – escape!
She did not remember how she had been removed from the bonds of the pacifier
torture machine - the last clear memory was again speaking with Savage, wanting
only to get her hands around his throat as his digit moved inside her intimate
space. Then the slide into darkness as
the needle pierced her skin, and the jumble of half recalled dreams where she
stood helplessly mired to her chin in thick mud as Savage held Donna aloft by
her long smooth neck. Then he began to
tear away her uniform while her sister pleaded for Diana to save her.
Diana tired to shut out that memory, and the more terrible ones that it
led into - Donna being made to watch as beautiful young Starfire was raped
beside her, and then the man taking his own bestial member, guiding it to her
younger sisters spread, vulnerable womanhood, sliding it inside her…
Once again she was trembling with rage. Muscles that could tear
steel and propel her fists through solid rock twisted and bunched as she raged,
but the bindings that held her now proved no easier to shatter than those of
the pacifier; even the stone of the
plinth resister her efforts to pull the chains free.
After a few moments, perspiring slightly from her efforts, the Amazon
warrior calmed enough to think clearly.
She first took stock of her clothing.
The shiny black body suit provided by her captors was all one piece from
her feet up to the low cut bustier. A
set of leather–like bindings held the low cut of the outfits front tightly
against the steep curve of her breasts, just below the top of her
generous cleavage, and leaving fully half the flesh of those ample globes bare
to inspection. The material was snug,
contoured to her lines like a second skin. Behind her the garment came only
half way up her back, leaving her upper back and her shoulders bare and showing
off the strength of her upper body and arms. Her hair had been pulled back into
a pony-tail bound with a thick braid, and the tiara taken from her days ago was
replaced now with a long yellow headband with a red star and long ties hangind down the side of her head. Leather greaves covered her arms from wrist
to elbow, while boots of the same material enclosed her feet and her legs all
the way up to the bottom of Diana’s long, powerful thighs. The only thing of her regular garb was the
buckle of loose slung belt draped around her hips, the metal fastening crafted
into the familiar double-W that usually sat across the bust of her Wonder Woman
armor.
Diana knew the costume instantly, but the recognition gave her no
comfort. Very much the
opposite, in fact.
Diana looked around at her new abode. Something about the room had seemed familiar as
soon as she opened her eyes, and now the pieces clicked into place. She
looked around and as expected saw a control panel on one wall, fitted above a
small desk arrangement. Next to it was a hovering platform, obviously
high tech, arranged on which were various complicated and unpleasant looking
instruments, like a doctors nightmare of surgical tools. One of them had
a six inch cylindrical handle and a length of some kind of cord that seemed to
Diana's keen ears to hum slightly.
As much as the clothes on her body, she recognized the sound, and the
device. A Sangtee neural whip.
The Sangtee.
A few years ago Diana and a female cosmonaut had been lost in space and
captured by a race of star-faring aliens called the Sangtee,
all of whom were male. Apparently every millenia the
race changed sex, always accompanied by violent outbursts against the gender
they were transforming into as they fought to resist the natural cycle of their
species. Any females they captured from other races were made into slaves
and subjected to the most humiliating and painful punishments the aliens could
devise, and with centuries with which to practice and prepare, it was to be
expected that the Sangtee would have become very, very creative.
Diana had been their prisoner for two months. She knew exactly
how creative they could be. And now,
apparently, she was back in their hands.
The door of the room opened and a pair of men stepped though.
Diana recognized the aliens instantly. Purple skinned, their armor
was a darker tone than that of their flesh. Apart from that
characteristic, they were not unlike humans in general appearance, though their
ears were more pointed. One was fairly slim, his battle dress
adorned with the sort of complicated patterning and tassels that
invariable accompanied a courtier dressing as a warrior. The man beside
him was slightly shorter, though much more broad in the chest and shoulders,
his armor shiny too but showing the signs of wear that marked him as career
military; a man who had tasted the thrill of fear in true combat and the
heady exhilaration of the ultimate victory on the battlefield -
survival.
Diana regarded both men coolly, taking stock of her situation.
When last she had left the Sangtee Empire their
ruler, secretly a woman herself, had been persuaded by Diana to initiate reforms
that had outlawed the practice of oppressing and abusing any female the Sangtee came across. Either the Sangtee's
policy had changed, or these men were rebels, possibly motivated to settle old
scores. Diana's persuasion had taken the form of forming a league of
female pirates composed of escaped slaves, and leading them in a relentless
campaign against their former slave-masters until the Sangtee
had been forced to negotiate. Quite a few high-ranking imperials had been
disgraced along the way, and would no doubt love the chance for some revenge.
The two males regarded the prisoner, observing her shackled hands and
erect posture with disdain. Like all their race save
their ruler, they instinctively loathed and feared anything female, and in her
brief time in their space Diana had come to epitomize among the Sangtee all things feminine. To them, she was the ultimate
enemy of their people simply by virtue of her existence, but by leading the
rebellion against their misogyny she had elevated herself to the status of
arch-fiend in their eyes.
‘Greetings, offal,’ the courtier said in cultured tones that did nothing
to hide his contempt for her. ‘This reckoning is long overdue.’
‘The only person among the Sangtee I defer to
is your Emperor,’ Diana said evenly, deliberately fishing for knowledge in her
remark. She learned what she needed to
know quickly as the Courtier took the bait, stepping forward and backhanding
her across the face with a gloved hand. ‘The genetic aberration upon the throne
will not save you from our justice,’ the Courtier said with a snarl. ‘When the holovid of you grovelling broken
and pleading at our feet is shown across the Empire, then the supporters of
that blasphemy who disgraces the royal line will see the true nature of the
female – weak and pathetic, undeserving of respect or honor, and they will
return to the true path of our people.’
Diana barely felt the slap, shaking it off effortlessly and looking at
him unruffled. Inside her head, though, her mind was racing. This man knew the Sangtee
ruler was female, a closely guarded secret even after the success of Diana’s
revolution. This was more than mere
revenge against her personally – these men were planning on destroying
everything she had accomplished in freeing the females in Sangtee
space from slavery and torture.
Diana
took some small solace in at least knowing the Emperir
still lived, and ruled, for the moment. Still, it did little to alleviate her
current situation. ‘If you expect me to roll over and beg while you whistle,
then I hope you arranged to be on our planet a long time.’
The
purple man stepped towards Diana, full of confidence. ‘Actually, whore, we anticipate your full cooperation.’
He
turned and pressed a button on his arm greave and a panel opened on the wall
showing s view screen, which flickered to life.
On the screen, Diana could see two women, one of whom she recognized
instantly - Tasha, the cosmonaut she was marooned in
space with. The other was far younger and
a stranger, but Diana swiftly realized why she seemed familiar - Tasha's daughter, Mishka! She had only been eight when they were lost -
she would be in her late teens now, the same age as the girl imprisoned with
the Russian explorer.
The
pair of women were stripped naked and bound facing each other, kneeling with
their hands tied behind the small of their backs and their legs were pulled
back at the knees. In that reclining
position their exposed female clefts were pressed up against a metal pole about
four inches wide, rising from floor to ceiling.
Mishka resembled her mother in many ways,
though she would perhaps be a little taller standing up. She had the same bright orange tresses though
she wore hers shoulder length, and her figure displayed an elegant leanness –
Diana remembered Tasha talking about her hopes that Mishka would pursue her early love of dancing. Her breasts were smaller than her mothers,
tipped with cherry nipples, and Diana though she caught the flash of a silver
ring in her navel.
Tasha herself was in her early
thirties now, but she still retained the lithe athletic form Diana remembered
from their travels in space. The 5’6”
woman still wore her red hair short, but not as severely cut as her days in the
Soviet space program. Her breasts had
dropped a little, but were still attractively firm C-cups, and few wrinkles had
appeared on her finely chiselled features and around her ice blue eyes. A
person passing these two in the streets of
Diana’s
stomach churned, remembering the companionship of the brave cosmonaut during
her months of first being marooned in space and then their brutal enslavement. The two had grown closer than any of her
fellow heroes had suspected [the male heroes at any rate], having no one to
comfort them but each other in their horrible ordeal. Diana was not ashamed to admit that Tasha had been as much a source of comfort for her as she
had been for the Russian, when they had huddled cold and afraid in the dark of
the Sangtee prison camp. Surrounded only by female
prisoners they had heard their fellow slaves using the dark hours to find
solace in the warmth of each others bodies.
Friendship had been transformed by mutual suffering into something more
– if not love, then a closeness both emotional and physical that seemed the
unique province of women in such straits.
Tasha had helped to keep Diana not only alive
but hopeful, when all their world seemed to have been reduced
to misery and pain. The noble Amazon seethed
now at the sight of the two defenceless women, mother and daughter forced to
witness and share each others humiliation.
‘Now,’
the courtier went on, not able to conceal his gloating tone, ‘if you refuse to cooperate your former companion, and her vile offspring,
will suffer a slow death. The pole which
they are straddling can be heated to over 200 degrees in your
primitive measure - it would be
interesting to see what it does to their soft female slut meat.’ He watched the look of anguish on the Amazons
face as she observed the extreme vulnerability of the prisoners. ‘I understand ‘mothers' and 'daughters' share
a special bond in your depraved culture – allowing them to watch each other die
in agony would seem gracious, no?’
‘You
are mad!` Diana whispered hoarsely. She would not have though even the Sangtee capable of such barbarism.
'The courtier narrowed his eyes. ‘No bitch, we are beyond mad. You have attacked our culture, our beliefs, our very existence.
We are not mad - we are furious! And now we are ready to take our just
revenge! Now, do you agree?’
‘No!` Diana clenched
her teeth and yanking at the bonds holding her wrists. They did not give in the
slightest, filling her with frustration.
What in Hades were they made of?
‘As you wish.’ The Sangtee smiled,
and touched another button. ‘On the
screen, Diana saw the two women wriggle, Mishka
giving a yelp. ‘It’s getting hot!’ she sobbed in Russian, squirming.
‘Stay
calm,’ her mother gasped, but Diana could hear the fear in her voice. For herself, but more for
her innocent young daughter. Both
women squirmed as the heat from the pole bled into their sensitive vaginas,
sweat forming on their bellies and thighs.
‘Mother,
it hurts!’ Mishka gasped in a terrified whimper.
‘Stop
this,’ her mother yelled to the empty room, switching to English. ‘For God’s sake, stop it!’
‘You
slimy filth!` Diana cursed. Tahsa’s own face
was showing pain now, tears forming in her eyes as Mishaka
sobbed and moaned. As the Princess
watched in horror the younger woman cried out, pulling desperately but unable
to escape as the metal began to burn her pussy lips where they were smeared
against it.
‘Stop
it!` Diana yelled at the courtier. `At least have the
courage to do it to me!’ The men made no reply, only watched
Diana calmly, enjoying her ordeal as much as the prisoners.
‘Damn
you, let her go at least,’ Tasha screamed. ‘I'll do anything you,’ want the cosmonaut
yelled her own pussy burning with pain now. 'Do whatever you want to me, but
let my daughter go!'
‘Well,
princess?’ the Sangtee
noble sneered.
Diana
stared at the two women suffering with sickness gnawing at her heart. How could
she let this continue? Yet how could she
allow herself to be debased in front of these male animals, knowing that it
would lead to the torture of hundreds of thousands of innocent females across
the galaxy.
‘AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!’
Gaaaaaaaaaaaagh….AAAAA…AAAAIIEEEEEAAAAAH!!!’
Tasah and Mishaka
were both screaming now, tears running down their similar features. Diana closed her eyes as her own tears welled
up, but the screams rang in her ears, parent
and child suffering horribly, the pain killing them slowly as they heard
each other’s anguished shrieking.
Pressed hard against the metal shaft they would be able to feel the
vibration as they both writhed in torment.
The sweat spilling in torrents down their breasts and thighs and tight,
arched bodies mingled about their pudenda’s, their sexual organs close enough
that Diana knew they could feel the brush of their labia’s together where the
pole forced the lips apart. To make a
mother and her offspring suffer like this, feel each other’s womanhood rubbing
together as they were tortured – it went beyond cruelty. This was obscene.
‘Oh
Fuck, no more…NO MORE! I’m begging
you...I´ll do…do anything. Just…let …her go!!` Tasha screamed through her heaving sobs of pain. She threw back her head and wailed in
anguish, her daughters screams of pain mingling with hers in a duet of pain.
Diana
could bear no more. ‘Stop it - Stop it
and I’ll do as you ask!’ she shouted at the men watching her. The words sickened her, but if she did not
act now both women would die gruesomely.
The
Sangtee mocked her with a slight bow, and again
touched the button on his arm.
The
women cries became less desperate, the rod cooling quickly. The man deactivated
the sound, but left the image on, turning and facing Diana.
‘You
will be tortured.’ he said matter-of-factly, as Diana kept her eyes on her
friend and her teenage child. ‘We
require you to perform satisfactorily, showing your female weakness.’ He smiled ‘We will provide you with sufficient
motivation, you may be assured.’
‘You
will not speak, unless indicated by words on the viewer - then you will say
them exactly as written, and with the proper…’ He paused and grinned wider.
‘Submission.’
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