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.’
II
Diana
The armoured Sangtee noble nodded to the
warrior next to him, who turned and picked up the neural whip. Diana remembered its lashing kiss all to well
during her slavery. She felt her heart sink...and her blood boil. Instinctively
she stood upright, facing her captor, her legs spread, arms pinned back. Her black pirate uniform felt much less
sturdy than her battle armour as it clung to her exquisite curves. She steadied her breathing...not wanting to
make a show of her proud bosom heaving in front of those pigs. The Sangtee were not really supposed to care
about her female charms of course, but Diana did not delude herself by thinking
they would be the only ones watching.
“Where
shall we start general? Let us save her
face 'til last.” The courtier pondered,
gloating over his prisoner. “Let’s see if you can undress her with the whips
caress. That should teach her to undress more willingly in the future!”
“Agreed,” said the warrior, speaking for the
first time. His voice was deep and
terse. “I have heard many rumours among
our warriors of this ones abilities. “Let
us see how resilient her thin woman body really is.”
He activated a control on his glove and Diana
felt the bonds holding her wrists behind her pulling up and back, forcing her
to bend at the waist to expose her back and flanks. White-hot hatred flashed
through her mind at being manipulated and forced into this position, the more
so because she was certain by exerting her full strength she could overload the
drives of the machine hauling up her wrists.
She longed to give them a display of true Amazon power, but the screen
before showed the two Russian women still weeping, trying to console each
other. And so, she stayed silent, and leaned forward.
She
heard the hum as the energy whip was activated.
Diana
closed her eyes and steeled herself. "This
will hurt," she heard the general say, "and you are not to suppress
any sounds of pain!" You are required to give voice to your suffering;
understand, slut!?`
Diana
said nothing, but nodded tightly, not looking at him. She was keeping her eyes
fixed to the wall, trying to focus on a place far from this terrible room. Time seemed to crawl as she waited for the
stroke. And then...
The
humming of the neural whip increasing as it was flung through the air,
playfully. The alien was testing its flexibility. She did not flinch,
controlling her fear. The general
grunted in surprise; this one would
take great deal of persuasion, it seemed.
Diana
flexed her toes, waiting without sign of apprehension, but squirming inside. Just get on with it, scum, she thought, while
her fingers twitched a little behind her back, her breasts staining against the
bustier as she leaned over. Ass tight,
her back a smooth slope of skin and black spandex.
The
whip uncoiled suddenly, smacking like a lighting bolt across her back! Diana felt the blow, the filament sending the
sting of a hundred scorpion strikes into her nervous system.
This
was the hideous genius of the device – it could make the victim feel the pain
of having her flesh flayed from her body, while leaving her physically
undamaged. The whips were deviously crafted instruments of pain, created to
adjust to the unique bioelectric field of living beings and inflict suffering
by disrupting that energy field via the electrical impulses of the victim’s
nervous system. Each blow of the lash
would make the whip more sensitive to its targets energy signature, and thereby
increase the woman’s pain. The process
would continue until the person using the whip locked the setting or used it on
another target, thereby resetting the lash to its “default” position.
Diana
had felt the pain of the neural-whip often in the slave camp, both on her own
behalf, and when she had been shielding other, weaker females from its
cruelty. The lives of their slaves had
meant less than nothing to the Sangtee, and it had not been unusual for them to
flog a slave to death for no apparent reason beyond wanton sadism. Even though
the device caused minimal physical damage, the ever-increasing pain of the
blows was usually enough to destroy a victim’s nervous system within a dozen
stokes, unless the one using it had locked it to a fixed setting. Even without being permitted to reach
maximum, the trauma suffered by repeated blows could be enough to cause
seizures or cardiac arrest after sustained torture.
Diana
bore the pain now, remembering with loathing the times she had endured this
awful process in the camp, biding her time until she could reveal her full
abilities with the certainty of escape. She grunted, the pain flaring across
her lower back as he coiled it to strike again.
She felt a coolness on her skin as the metal thread pf the device tore
the thin material with ease, exposing her smooth flesh under it. This was another piece of perverse genius by
the Sangtee – the lash would rip a victim's clothes to shreds with ease, but
leave her skin virtually unmarked. Diana
did not pretend to understand the science behind the device, any more than the
twisted hatred that had spawned it. She
understood only the pain it inflicted, and her need to suffer it to keep her
friend and her daughter from further agony.
Holding the whip loosely, the General watched
her body absorb his blow, giving a low sigh of pleasure. Like Diana he knew the
whip would not flay her flesh as conventional ones did, allowing her to absorb
much more pain. Unlike her though, he
knew that his particular model had been upgraded to not only disrupt the
targets neural network but also to stimulate certain parts of the female brain,
making sure that she would stay conscious and aware of her suffering. Tests had
shown that this new feature meant that the hated female target could be kept
screaming in total agony for hours, right up to the point where her pathetic
body shut down in death, without ever having to pause to revive her. He was aching to see how long this particular
slut would last before her inferior physicality finally gave out under the ever-mounting
pain.
The
whip stung her again, this time it landing squarely on her buttocks and its tip
lashing into her lower belly. Diana cried
out, fighting every instinct to stay silent, but still holding back the
appropriate response for pain of that magnitude. The suffering was every bit as bad as she
remembered - worse, perhaps. No doubt,
the Sangtee had refined their tools of subjugating females. Her body could defy the strength of conventional
blows, but this struck right at her pain receptors, the whip ploughing a
harvest of anguish in the very fibres of her being.
“Louder,
bitch,” the Noble said, watching her ass wiggle as the whip drew back across it. The other alien threw the lash back and cut
at the Amazon again...this time letting the whip snap up against her dangling
breasts. With a hideous snap it hit both
at once, the whip sending its crackling pain into her mammal nerve-endings,
glances and breast-meat. Diana screamed,
more in anger than suffering, though the pain was great. Her exposed tit tops reddened under the horrible
caress, her bustier torn so that it barely clung to her fulsome boobs.
Having
set his target with his first strike the General lashed her breasts again,
tearing away more black material and laying her welted skin bare. Her shoulders hauled back by her chained wrists
Diana could do nothing to protect her boobs, and a dozen blows cracked against
the twin bulging chest orbs. With each
strike the pain increased exponentially, doubling and redoubling. A normal woman would have died at the twelfth
strike – a super-fit female like Black Canary or Huntress might have survived
long enough to die screaming at the fifteenth.
All
told Diana’s tits took twenty cuts of the lash.
By
the time the twentieth had slithered from her tits Diana could barely remember
where she was, beyond that she needed to somehow pay attention to the screen in
front of her, what it was telling her to do.
Hanging down beneath her amid the slivers of her pirate garb her tits
throbbed and burned like sacks of molten steel that had be glued to her chest
for her torture. She shook fitfully, her
ass clenched as she stood bent at the waist and moaned on cue.
"Ah,
yes!" the noble sighed. "You are a slut after all. And sluts are most appropriately punished
there,” his violet eyes drank in the view of her battered cleavage, then
travelled south,” ...and...there!" he said, nodding at his accomplice
holding the whip. Diana sucked in air, blinking, dreading his meaning. The whip recoiled and hit her again...this
time right between her legs.
It
took an endless second for the pain to hit, and then the heroine known as
Wonder Woman opened her mouth and screamed!
“AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!”
Even though she hated herself, she was secretly
glad for the excuse to cry out - her womanhood was on fire! It felt as if it
had been doused in rocket fuel and set alight.
The crotch of her tight pants was torn away in a flare of energy that
left her pink slit peeking through the ragged remains of modesty.
The
noble sighed again and opened his robe, exposing his hard, mauve-skinned cock
behind it. “As it is meant to be,"
he purred, "for the female to endure pain so we may have our
pleasure!"
Dian
longed to tell him to fuck himself, but bit her tongue, since the work with
hands on his engorged manhood made it clear that was his intention anyway. She
concentrated on trying to ignore the agony festering between her long legs. It hurt so much! The heat burning across her back, breasts and
labia contrasted with the chill across her skin as she perspired freely,
glowing under the rooms lights.
The
General gave another strike from behind, curling the cord of the whip up under
her so that the very tip snapped against her groin. Diana’s head pulled back and she bucked
forward. She remembered seeing the
nearal device used against Donna and Starfire as they were raped, and prayed
that it had not been as horribly painful as this.
For
the third time her pussy was struck; by now her pant offered little protection
from the Sangtee’s staring eyes, little alone the terrible whip. The cord tore at her outer lips, almost
penetrating her.
“GAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
The
screen in front of her flickered to life.
"Read out loud, slut!" the Noble commanded, as a message
became visible on the viewer.
Diana
blinked the sweat from her eyes and lifted her head as much as she could. She read
the words, her mouth full of bile at the sight. “Please,” she hissed, forming the word with
an effort of will, “stop.”
The
Noble smiled broadly, as another message came on. Diana swallowed and spoke the
words almost inaudibly. “It hurts,” she
husked.
The
General sneered and pulled back his arm - clearly, this bitch needed stronger
motivation. He eyed her full tits, still partially covered.
Diana
heard the male behind her moving and fought to control her shakes. Days of torture, both physical and
psychological, had taken a toll of her strength. Her fabulous, welt-creased body was held up
now by the bindings about her wrists and ankles.
The
big Sangtee set down the whip and turned to one of the sets of devices near the
wall. Quickly he shed the gauntlets of
his armour and put on a pair of newly developed gloves...studded with filaments
made of the same material as the neural whip’s lash.
Meanwhile,
in front of the so-called Wonder Woman the Noble was speaking.
“Renounce
your foolish beliefs of female equality,” he said. “Admit you hate all men and what you truly
wish is nothing less than our total destruction.”
Diana
pressed her lips together, bracing herself to debase her quest to bring peace
further for the sake of the Russian captives, but the message surprised her. “No,” she read, “I wont say it. You can’t
make me, ignorant male scum.” The last came naturally to her lips surprising
herself with the sound of her own vehemence in the words. She did not believe that last – not in her
heart, she told herself.
The
manacles pulled down, drawing her hands back towards her smarting backside, the
neural shock lingering in her synapses. Diana was hauled upright to face the general
as he came forward, working his fingers inside the neural gloves on his hands,
making them crackle with energy. They
were obviously designed along the same lines as the whip, and she swallowed,
imagining those metal-gloved hands on her body.
"We
will make you, slut!" he said, reaching
out and taking both her breasts into a vice-like grip, applying pressure to
drive the neural filaments into her flesh as she squeezed the pert orbs in a
crushing grip.
Diana
stiffened immediately, the energy charge
filling her tits and making them buzz with discomfort. The contact of the energy to her bare skin
and soft meat beneath increased suddenly, and the Princess was subjected to
white-hot, blinding jolts of unbelievable pain firing straight into her
woman-globes. Obedient to the twisted orders of her tormentors grimaced in pain. The material still clinging to her ample
breasts was burning away as he kneaded
and groped and twisted her tits like a ruthlessly brutal lover, exposing her luscious flesh.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!”
Diana
faced the grinning Sangtee, face tight with pain as she allowed the sounds of
suffering to be heard. Bent forward her
breasts hung down into her Sangtee’s upraised palms, and he pushed up,
pillowing them against her chest as the fleshy female attributes bulged between
his clawing fingers. Diana could feel
the fibres piercing her fair skin and stabbing into her breasts to release
their burning message of suffering, making it feel her tits were being roasted
from within. Only the continuing view of Tasha and her daughter tied and ready
for further torment prevented her from biting down her pain, overcoming it with
the sheer force of her nigh indomitable will.
And
yet, in a secret part of her soul she was sickly grateful for the excuse to
give voice to her pain, not just of her body, but of her very soul, knowing her
sister and friends were sharing in this descent into hell.
The
General let go of her tits, only to slap them...slapping them with both his
gloved hands, making them bounce and jiggle on her chest, the weight of the
wobbling meat pulling her forward against her bonds. Blowing out air noisily, eyes narrowed, she cried aloud, her swelling mammal spheres
feeling like they had been smashed with steel hammer. They burned, her chest aflame, the heat like it was sizzling her skin away
while her Amazon tits bounded wildly, amplifying the hurt. Again and again he walloped her breasts, the
sound of metal on skin echoing in the room and punctuated by Diana’s deep felt
groans and choked, unwilling cries.
He
finally finished slapping her tits, taking a step back to observe her. She
watched him eyes cloudy with tears. Many
men had thought that her superhuman powers made her immune to pain, but unlike
Superman Diana was not invulnerable – else why would she need to protect
herself with her bracelets. True she was
more resilient than any mortal woman was, but she could be hurt, and she could
feel pain. She was sweating heavily now,
her bare chest red and shining as she fought to take in air. Her black hair
clung to her forehead and she panted, wetting her lips. The Sangtee had no illusions that she was
truly near to breaking, but they also knew that the suffering in her face was
not entirely feigned, and the thought warmed their cruel hearts.
"Effective,
aren’t they?” grunted the Sangtee warrior. “We have made some developments,
after you left our planet, whore! And we look forward to demonstrating all of
them to you."
“Admit
your evil,” said the Noble quietly.
Diana
looked at the screen for her response. “No,” she said, and then followed the
prompt to sob a little. Filth, she thought.
“Perhaps
the tips of her foul female udders this time,” the Noble suggested with seeming
indifference, even his armour unable to completely conceal the erection between
his legs.
The
alien warrior complied, taking her nipples between his thumb and finger,
trapping the tender buds in a grip of neural agony.
Oh Goddesses!
Diana prayed silently, as the power of the gloves was redirected into one,
ultra sensitive spot on each trembling breast.
Before the pain had been bad as it coursed across her skin and soaked
into her mammary. But now the anguish had a route directly into the nerve
clusters focused in her round hard nipples – the flames of pain that had
roasted her tits now scorched her nubbins like twin blowtorches, searing them
to misshapen lumps of tight skin. She grit her teeth – compared to this the
pacifier seemed like a relaxing massage.
"Admit
the error of your ways and beg us to take you back to the empire to be executed
for your crimes against the natural order of things! Submit slut, or be
tortured to death!” the Noble spat.
Diana
screamed in his grip, her body lifting as instinct took over and she tried to
pull herself away from his grip, her big firm breasts roasting, about to burst,
the nipples swollen buttons of poisonous agony. As she pulled back so did he,
making the large Amazon boobs stretch, increasing the suffering sizzling down
the nerve endings in her tit-points. She
looked to the screen with Mishka and Tasha still helpless and then to the
prompt viewer, her mind awash with pain.
And then she opened her mouth and gave a wailing, hopeless cry, and screaming
aloud lumped in his grip, as commanded.
Diana
hung there, supposedly unconscious, but he did not let go. Her boobs still blazing with pain, and all
she could do was hang there and endure it, not even permitted to move.
Five
seconds.
Ten.
She
longed to grit her teeth, just to twitch,
Her breasts coursed with excruciating torment. She was sure her nipples were about to
explode like rotten cherries.
Fifteen
seconds. The torture was maddening, worse than having been locked in the
pacifier. She had to hang totally
without resistance – totally submissive
to the pain being inflicted.
Eighteen,
nineteen; her scream was rising in her throat and madness seemed to be a
welcome escape from the pain. With a
flash of released energy, her tormentor pulled her tit-tips together, grabbing
both her nipples with one hand, still sending the crackling pain into her breasts...while the
other hand lunged beneath the black clad form, clutching her between her legs.
She
could not believe it- her womanhood instantly igniting with anguish. Her vagina still burned from the whip and now
that torture was quadrupled bu the gloves scrabbling at her pouting
fem-slit. Unable to simply hang any longer she gritted
her teeth, feeling her control dissolving, then her red lips flew wide. Her scream of outraged agony was a warbling
sound of utter suffering, tears spilling down her cheeks from sky blue
eyes. Her body from her breasts to her
mons had become a circuit of hellish current.
The metal-gloved fingers pushed at the remains of her pants, feeling
their way inside, Diana gasping desperately as she imagined what it would feel
like when those neural fibres were imbedded into the pink softness of her sex.
The thought made her want to hurl obscenities while she trembled uncontrollably
and her legs spasmed as she fought to close her thighs, to do something to take
control of the pain. Behind her back her
arms were knots of muscles, twisting as she instinctively fought to escaped
from her bondage and her torment.
“Enough,”
the Noble said. Her tormentor held fast on her most tender body-parts and
grinned, then after a moment released her.
Diana’s gargle of pain went into an anguished sob of misery and she
staggered forward, trying to find strength to steady her self.
“Most
impressive, for a slut,” said the Noble.
“As a reward for your work on our behalf, you may rest for five minutes,
before we resume.”
He
stepped forward until her could smell the sweat running down in diamond drops
over her heaving breasts. "But surely you must see,” he went on
philosophically, “that the fact that we are causing this pain, and that you
have to endure it, simply proves that females are meant to live beneath the
male!"
Diana
blinked and let her eyes close. It would be useless to argue with this being,
and at that moment, she really only cared that the next five minutes would be
without fresh pain.
III
Birds
of Prey
Oracle
Somewhere in the city of
The room was unremarkable, with no
furnishings other than the chair and no adornments other than a flat LCD
screen, currently blank.
Much more eye-catching was the woman
in the chair. By any conventional
standards she would be deemed attractive, her most eye-catching feature a first
glance being a mane of shoulder length, flaming red hair. She wore rimless
spectacle that pleasing accentuated a pair of alluring green eyes. She was dressed in a figure hugging
sleeveless blouse of a deep purple hue, buttoned just high enough to appear
modest but not quite enough to conceal the topmost cleavage of her full breasts. The blouse came down snugly over her trim
waist and blended stylishly with a pair of tight black pants. High heel boots
covered her feet, which were resting on a metal plate that was attached to the
chair four inches above the floor. Her
demeanour was calm, revealing none of the panic that might be expected of a
woman finding herself a hostage of some of the most dangerous men on the
planet.
Most especially, one that was
paralysed just below the waist.
Barbara Gordon could still remember
the night she had excused herself from her Police Commissioner father and
answered the door of her apartment, only to find herself facing a nightmare
with paper white skin, green hair, and eyes without the slightest glint of
sanity. The single bullet the criminal
psychopath called the Joker had fired had severed her spine, leaving her lying
bleeding and in deep shock as the madman responsible had kidnapped her
father. All she had been able to do was
lie there sobbing and clutching the wound in her lower abdomen, wondering if
she were going to die.
Barbara was not used to feeling
helpless. She was used to taking the
initiative, being in control. She was
used to action. Not really surprising,
considering that when she was not working at the Gotham
library she was swinging through the rooftops of the city and fighting crime
alongside Batman and his partner Robin with the unlikely title of Batgirl. Before being shot by the Joker Barbara had
been an athlete that could have put Olympic gymnast to shame, and bloodied the
noses of some of the most skilled martial arts fighters in the world.
One bullet from a maniac had ended
that life forever.
Lying on that carpet, Barbara had
learned what it meant to be truly helpless, to be totally at the mercy of
another. And just to help drive that
message home, the Joker had waited until her father had been dragged away by
his goons and then taken out his camera.
He had knelt down beside her, and he had smiled, and then while she lay
there bleeding from her belly he had stated to undress her.
Her blouse first, and then her skirt,
both soaked with blood.
Then her bra.
Her panties.
He had stripped her naked while she
lay there in agony and horror. Only when
she was completely nude had he started taking the pictures, arranging her in
various poses. On her belly, on her side, on her back. She remembered the click-click of the camera
and his hands on her arranging her hair, adjusting her arms, parting her legs.
Barbara had lain there and wept
softly, too much in shock to resist.
When he had started removing her clothes, her greatest fear for herself
was that he was going to rape her. She
had fought criminals wearing a figure hugging spandex suit for years and no man
had touched her without her consent and bragged about it. She had seen women who had been raped, but
she had never really understood the horror of it, mostly because she had always
been confident in her ability to fight back, to resist. She would never be the helpless victim.
Until that night.
The Joker had not raped her, but that
had not lessened the horror. In fact, it
was worse. In the whole time the human monster had been taking the pictures,
never once did her relate to her as a person.
His touch had been cold, clinical.
He had smiled without cease, but it had been with the twisted joy of a
child that was playing with a toy it had deliberately broken. She had been a thing to him – not a woman,
not even a human being. He had used her
without remorse, and then left her there lying naked and bleeding for the
paramedics to find; with nothing to think about except where her father was and
the numbness in her legs.
One thing the Joker’s attack had not
robbed her of, though, was her brain.
Cursed with a perfect photographic memory, Barbara could remember every
aspect of that horrible night as if it were yesterday – time would never
distance her from the experience.
But, even though she would never pull
on a mask and fight crime in the streets again, Barbara was still determined not
to finish her crime fighting career as a victim. She had taken her keen
analytical mind, and sharpened it even further. Added to that were computer
skills that were honed to be the most formidable in the world. She could hack any network, seeing though
security system, and remote cameral, any satellite or telecommunication
network. No computer-information system could resist her abilities, not scrap
of knowledge remained hidden from her is she determined to ferret it out. She became the ultimate finder of
secrets. And she took on a new identity.
Oracle.
Sitting now locked to the metal
chair, Barbara remembered the feeling of helplessness the Joker had instilled
in her, but she pushed it aside.
Recently she had faced a similar situation to this one when a corrupt
Barbara studied her surroundings
carefully. It was a plain chamber 12
feet by twelve feet, with a ceiling about eight feet above the floor. The walls, ceiling, and roof were all the
same kind of marble favoured by the Amazons. So she was likely still in the city. She was cold, and there was a feeling of
dampness in the air, so she was probably underground.
But the most telling, and most
disturbing, evidence for the red head to consider was the mere fact that she
had been singled out. Barbara had
travelled to
And yet, despite the precautions to
protect her identity, the young crime fighter had been singled out from the
other civilian hostages taken when the villains and their mercenaries had
seized control. For the first 24 hours
she had remained with the other captives in one of the library buildings. Then,
without explanation, they had taken her in her wheelchair and brought her to
this room, silencing the protests of some of the men captured with a few well-placed
rifle butts. Barbara had raged at the
injuries done to the men only seeking to protect her, but had agreed to
accompany the mercenaries without protest, knowing resisting at this point
would only cause more suffering. They had pulled a hood over her head and
wheeled her out of the library, travelling for about ten minutes before lifting
her into the chair she currently occupied and then, once she had been secured,
leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Caught unawares away from her
computer laptop Barbara had not even had the chance to warn her companions or
send a message of help to the outside world. She was desperate to find out what
was happening to her friends, but new she had to be patient. This attack had
been well planned – blind action at this point would be useless. She needed information.
Abruptly, a speaker somewhere in the
room concealed from her sight crackled to life.
‘Good day, Miss Gordon,’ said a
voice. ‘I trust you are comfortable.’
Barbara started,
a feigned reaction to conceal her abilities.
‘Why am I here,’ she asked, letting her voices pitch rise an octave to
simulate fear.
‘Please remain calm. You are
perfectly safe, Miss Gordon, as long as you cooperate. We have need of someone
of your technological skills.’
Barbara sat perfectly still. There were any number of individuals
currently on the island whose public dossier registered as impressively as her
own in computer science, yet they had picked her to bring here. Not good – unless others had also been
selected without her knowledge, a kind of psychological leverage; making the
victim thing they possessed some unique ability to control their situation. She
remained confident that these men could not know she was Oracle; she had to
draw them out and discover what their purposes was.
'I'm not sure how I can help you,'
she replied.
The reply, when it came, stunned
her. 'We want you to hack the Amazons
computer files for us.'
Barbara allowed her surprise to work
for her, and then faked a laugh. 'You must be joking.’ she said. 'I’m a fair
hand with a computer, but there’s just no way I can do that; they're too
advanced. You might as well ask me to hack the Pentagon!'
'Maybe later.
We will start with the Amazon files.’
‘It’s impossible,’ Barbara shot back,
making her voice thick with frustration.
‘I can’t do it.’
‘We think you can, Miss Gordon,’ came the response, 'if you’re properly motivated.’
Overhead the light panel dimmed as
the screen flickered to life. Barbara squirmed a little, not liking where this
was going.
The image on the screen resolved
quickly to show a room about twice as big as the one Barbara sat in, but the
walls, floor and ceilings were all gleaming metal. It was well lit, and had the look of an
operating theatre, perhaps a room in one of the hospital building on the
One of the women was blonde, about
5’4” tall and with shoulder length hair with a tousled fringe drifting down
almost to her clear blue eyes. She had a compact, athletic look to her 120
pounds, her nicely curved figure currently clad in a shiny, sleeveless black
costume that ran from her neck to the tops of her shapely legs. She wore black
leather gloves with metal plates on the backs of her hands, and fishnet
stockings ran from her thighs down to the black boots that stopped just short
of her knees.
The woman facing
her was taller by about 7 inches, but with a lean build that made her
and the blonde almost the same weight. She had long black hair that fell down
past her shoulders and back from the curved edges of the purple mask covering
her eyes, which were darker and harder than that of her companion’s. Her face was more angular but no less
attractive. Her physique was a little
less curvaceous than the woman she lay facing, but her
body was no less impressive, particularly the firm flat midriff left bare by
her purple and black costume. Like the
blonde’s it began at her long neck and ended at the top of her long legs, but
unlike the others this outfit featured longer gloves, rising up to the well
toned biceps, and the slightly tattered remains of a dark sweeping cape. An equipment belt hung abound her narrow
waist, but all the items that would have hung there had been removed, as they
had been from the bands that formed the tops of her thigh high black boots.
Barbara started, seeing the two women
strapped to the tables by metal bands around their waists, wrists, elbows and
ankles. But it wasn’t just the outrage
of seeing two women in this vulnerable position – it was the recognition of
these two.
Her Birds of Prey operatives, Black
Canary and the Huntress.
The red head sat in silence and felt
her world collapsing out from under her, as if she
were back in that apartment hearing the shot and feeling the life go from her
legs. It could not possibly be the case
that with all the hostages to choose from, random chance had caused her captors
to choose her two closest associates in the superhero community. These men had
done this deliberately – the only question was did they already know Barbara
was Oracle, or was this some kind of test to find out.
The fear was mounting now but Barbara
fought it down - it would not help any of them. 'What are you doing?’ she
asked. She had a terrible certainty that
she knew, but she had to play this out, however much is sickened her.
'These two women have little to
interest us, but they may help you find a way to crack the Amazon system,' was
the reply. ‘If they suffer enough.'
Barbara felt her bile rising. ‘You’re not listening to me. Its not that I don’t want to - the system is
too complex - I can’t do it!'
There was a laugh, utterly sinister
and without humour. 'Then I'm afraid these two are in for a very bad time.'
IV
Birds
of Prey
Black
Canary and Huntress
Dinah Lance, the blonde haired Black
Canary, and Helena Bartenelli, the taller, raven
tressed Huntress, waited bound to the steel platforms about three feet
apart. Both women’s eyes shot baleful
glances around the room, looking for a way out or someone at which to aim their
fury.
Dinah looked at
Dinah was outwardly calm, but inside her guts
were churning. Unbidden, her mind kept
flashing back to the previous times she had been in this situation,
captured by ruthless killers. Only a few months ago the villain called Savant
had captured her to use as leverage for blackmailing Oracle, in the process
breaking both her lower legs. And before
that…
Dinah ducked mentally from the memory of the
first time she had been truly helpless in the hands of a madman. Not even a super-villain, just a thug with a
penchant for inflicting pain.
She had been investigating a drug smuggling
operation when her contact had been murdered and she had been taken by the
dealers, for questioning. She had woken
in a warehouse to find her arms tied to the upraised bars of a forklift, the black
choker she had been wearing cut away and stuffed into her mouth. It had been so ludicrous – the idiots did not
even realise who they had. She was a costumed heroine that had fought beside
the Justice League and the Justice Society, and in one quick fluke they had
disabled her greatest asset, her patented hyper-sonic canary cry. Gagged she was helpless to use her meta-ability
to escape. It was too absurd.
Her sense or irony, though, had evaporated
quickly when the man with the knife cut away her skirt, and then her bra and
panties.
She had fought back, of course – even with her
hands bound she still had the use of her feet and knees. At one point it had even looked like she
might disable enough of the them to buy time to free
herself. But there had been to many of them and too few minutes – they had overwhelmed
her by weight of numbers and beaten her half unconscious, leaving her hanging
with her feet raised of the floor and the sheer lavender top she had been
wearing as her only garment.
Then while the others watched, he has started
torturing her.
It was the gag that had defeated her. ‘Soft little moans,’ that was what the
knife-man had said he wanted from her. With her mouth stuffed with the silken
cloth of her choker, she had tried to scream, only to find that her own power
was reflected back upon her. As the
blade began to cut the skin of her arms and legs, she had done the worst thing
possible – she had panicked. Desperate
to escape the horror, she had tried to channel her power into a burst that
would pierce the muffling cloth and set her free. But her efforts had instead caused such
terrible stress that her canary cry had burned itself out with a shock that had
rendered her unconscious. And the men
watching had never even known – had just assumed the ‘weak woman’ they had
captured had feinted from pain and fear.
Until, of course, they sluiced cold water over
her to revive her.
Hanging there coughing and bleeding, the wet
cloth clinging to her body and hard-peaked breasts, she had been a gift from
the gods to the men allowed to stand guard over her. And with her stoic resistance and refusal to
break, a glorious challenge for the man set to question her. This gorgeous spy would be his masterpiece,
and he would paint her firm, smooth flesh as a canvas of suffering.
Perversely Dinah had ended up being grateful for gag
in her mouth, because after an hour had passed she could no longer voluntarily
suppress the need to scream.
The next two days had been a nightmare of torment
and degradation for the feisty street-fighter.
The man with the knife would ask her questions about who
she was and who sent her as a spy. When
she refused to tell him anything he wanted to hear, he had hurt her. Mostly he had used the knife, proving quite
skilled with it, able to cut her so that she felt maximum pain without
suffering a mortal or debilitating wound. Sometimes he would take a pause from
the cutting and beat her with rubber hose, loud enough so that the sound of the
improvised weapon hitting her had echoed around the empty space. Dinah was used
to taking a punch, but the length of hose had soon had her grunting in pain as
it marked her belly and legs with vivid welts and bruises. She had tried to protect herself with her legs
but he just smashed the hose against her back and sides until her strength
failed and her lovely legs fell back down towards the floor.
He hit her hard enough to make her sway gently.
Her body glowed with perspiration under the electric lights. Sometimes he would make it curl up between her
legs and the men would laugh as she gargled in agony and bucked wildly. When he used it on her ripe breasts, she had
thrown back her head and moaned like the most wanton whore as the tender meat
was pummelled black and blue.
Dinah had lost track of how many times she had
passed out, only to be revived and tortured again. The hours of suffering had blurred into a
nightmare haze of red anguish, broken up by short spaces where the man
refreshed himself, or paused to pee or jerk off while she hung shivering from
cold and fatigue. Then he would make the overture of asking her questions
again, before the aching torment of the previous abuse gave way to the fresh
hell of the new.
When she had first realised she could not escape
unaided, Dinah had prayed her lover Green Arrow would find her. By the end of
the first day of captivity, Dinah was praying she would die before he saw what
these men had done to her.
She tried to die.
She had goaded him, her torturer, baited
him. Sworn at him, the ‘fucking limp-dicked cunt’ who
was hurting her. If she could get him
angry enough his knife hand might slip, might cut and artery of pierce a vital
organ that would end her nightmare. But
he had only smiled and then gone back to slowly and methodically making her scream. Her blue eyes
were wet with tears than ran down over her face like salty diamonds, filling
her with shame. He was in no hurry – she
would tell him everything he wanted to know, and then, yes she would die. But not quickly – slowly. As slowly as he knew how to
make it. Maybe if she begged he would end it for her, but he didn’t
expect her to beg.
She knew it was what he loved most about her.
Cutting her, cutting her. Blood running down over her
thighs and dripping on the concrete floor. Blood spilling down the
cuts on her belly and dripping down between her legs, warm and sticky. It ran in little streams down her arms and
traced the outline of her breasts. He
didn’t slice her tits, just pricked them, taking the soft globes in his hands
and stabbing them with shallow pricks of the knife point, working the invading
point back and forth. Smiling like a happy child and listening to her
whimpering and cursing, looking up at her face pinched with hurt, lips twisted
or pressed tight together to muffle the sounds she knew he loved to hear from
her.
Two days.
The pain and her suspension kept her from sleeping. His excitement did the same for him.
Hanging from her bonds, one eye so swollen it was
closed shut, her lips spit and bleeding, she had felt the knife edge down to
her groin, the razor sharp edge gliding over the lips of her womanhood, shaving
her roughly. He had enjoyed her more
than any woman he had had in this position, but his masters were growing
impatient. He had saved the best for
last, but how the cold metal was prying apart the pouting slit between her
legs, probing inside. A shiver from her
and the edge nicked the pink lips behind her labia, making her gasp. He was going to carve her sex with terrible
patience, exquisite sadism. She heard
him offering to end it with one gutting stroke, or make it last through days of
endless howling agony. She felt the
blade sliding in and out of her pussy slit and the point twirling back and
forth as it was nudging her clitoris. Dinah had never been more terrified than
that moment, knowing the pain her could make her feel before the life went out
of her mutilated body.
‘Go…to hell,’ she had gasped. And hoped that she could
die before he made her plead for it.
And them, the sound of a bowstring, the wet thud
of metal cleaving meat, and the arrow emerging like magic from his chest,
dripping with his hearts blood. He had
fallen still holding the bloodstained knife and staring at the arrow sticking
out of him, as if he could not believe he could be cheated of his ultimate
moment.
As she had been cheated of her vengeance.
It had taken a long time for Dinah to get over
that – that she would never be able to make the man who had tortured her suffer
as she had suffered. Months of therapy,
years of wondering whether tonight she would sleep though til
morning or wake up screaming as she again felt the knife opening scarlet
channels in her naked body.
She looked over at
‘Huntress,’ she said softly. The very softness in her voice was what made
‘This is going to be bad,’ Dinah said without
expression. She forced herself to breath
slowly and evenly, and smiled inwardly as she saw the younger woman start to do
the same. That’s my girl. ‘This is
going to be bad,’ she said again.
‘We don’t panic,’ Dinah said evenly. ‘We joke, we swear. When it gets too bad, we scream. But we do not panic. They can make us scream if
the want to…’
‘Speak for yourself,’
‘Huntress,’ Dinah repeated, and met the Italian
born beauties gaze as she lifted her head.
‘They can make us scream, but
that doesn’t mean anything. The only
thing that matters is that we don’t give in to the fear’. She titled her head, looking at the caped
woman strapped to the platform in front of her with eyes cold as ice. ‘Fear is
what will kill us, if we let it.’
Huntress met that look with one of her own,
nodding again. ‘You remember when Savant
had your legs broken and you were lying on the floor behind me, and I told him
and his pet Spetsnaz* that they’d have to go through
me to get to you?’
Dinah nodded.
‘I just wanted you to know, if I’d known that
decision would bring us here,’ she said with a little smile, ‘then I’d have
jumped out the damn window.’
Black
Canary felt her own smile tugging the corners of her mouth.
*elite Russian
special forces
V
Diana
Diana
hung completely still in the special cage the Sangtee had devised for her. Her
immobility was not due to exhaustion – in fact, the deliberate effort to hold
herself motionless was draining in itself.
The cage
resembled the gyroscope machines that children enjoyed riding at amusement
parks – a set of rings set one within the other. Unlike those entertainment sources though,
this contraption had the spheres moving while the woman within was perfectly still,
her arms by her sides and her legs straight down beneath her. Diana stared straight ahead, the only
movement from her the blinking of her eyes and the very slight rise and fall of
her bare breasts.
The
other notable differences to earth-built gyroscopes were the dozens of fine red
lines of energy that moved and weaved as the rings twisted and spun, and the
fact that the woman imprisoned in that mesh of light was hovering two feet
above the rings surface without any part of her body providing support.
Diana
hung suspended in space using her gods-given power of flight, but only in
mockery of the freedom it usually filled her with. The Sangtee had explained carefully; the web
of red lights was capable of slicing the flesh from her bones, a claim she readily
believed when the General had demonstrated by passing rod of titanium alloy
thought the mesh as it rotated. It had been carved into eight segments before
the first piece hit the floor with a clang.
Diana
focussed on her breathing, forcing herself not to make any unnecessary
movement. Not since she had been
paralysed by the Joker, just after her first meeting with Artemis, had she felt
so frustrated by remaining still. Her
mental discipline afforded by her Amazon training would allow her t hold any
position for hours without moving, but now all she longed for was to be
smashing through ranks of the enemies that had enslaved her sisters and her
friends.
The
rings spun about with a soft hum, but Diana let her mind drift, un-distracted.
She sought escape from her captivity of the flesh in the halls of her mind,
thinking perhaps she might find a way out of this nightmare that had ensnared
them all. Unfortunately, this nightmare
was not so easily shaken off.
Try as
she might, Diana could not erase the sight and sound of Donna and Starfire suffering
in the torture chairs. The image and sounds of horror lingered in her ears and
danced in front of her eyes. To try to fight that inner turmoil, the Justice
Leaguer was being forced to call on discipline she had hoped never to have to
use again, ironically from the very time when she had last been a guest of the
Sangtee’s hospitality. Only this time, she was alone, without any friend to
help her.
She and
Tasha had been the only humans in the alien slave camp. For three months they had laboured in conditions
that could only be described as hellish – baking heat, dirt and grime
everywhere, barely enough food and water to sustain life, and day after day of
back breaking toil punctuated by random acts of cruelty by the guards. After two months of anguish, even Diana’s
hope had started to flag.
Diana
knew that the people who had heart the tale of her time as a Sangtee slave
believed that she had been the one that had sustained the Cosmonaut. Maybe even Tasha believed it, but Diana knew
better.
Lying in
the rags she had used for a bed, listening to the pathetic groans or weeping of
her fellow prisoners, Diana had felt her chest tight, the tears niggling at the
corners of her eyes as she thought of how she would never see her home again,
her friends from Patriarchs world. She
would die here in the mines and they would never know what became of her. It
was too horrible.
That is,
she would die in the mines if she were lucky.
When
they first arrived on the planet prison, Tasha and Diana had heard many stories
about the Sangtee. At first that was not
even the name they were told –they were informed their captors were called the
Kreel. Apparently they kept information
about themselves as tightly controlled as they did their slaves. But slowly Diana had pieced the puzzle
together, including their most horrifying secret.
How
could a race that was all one gender survive.
Cloning was an option, but did not seem the answer – neither Earth woman
saw any identical Sangtee. It was
possible their population base was large enough to prevent that, of course, but
it did not seem the answer. And yet
there were no Sangtee females. Another
explanation had been that they bred only at the transition times, when they
gradually changed genders. But this
happened once every century. Again,
unlikely.
The real
answer was simple and horrible. The
Sangtee perpetuated their race through organized rape.
Not just
common sexual violation though. For
Sangtee males the idea of being born from a females womb was repellent. As with everything in their culture, they
felt compelled to overwhelm and destroy the female. Even in reproduction.
Sangtee
biotechnology basically allowed them to deposit seed within a female victim
which would develop into Sangtee young.
The seeds were fully fertilized at the time of implantation. In order to grow, the DNA of the Sangtee
overwrote that of the host, essentially transforming the victim into a Sangtee
infant male. The process required a
great deal of bio-mass be transformed into energy, so only the most physically
powerful women were used for breeding.
Should they not escaped, Diana and Tasha would certainly qualify. In short, they would literally have been raped
to death, violated over and over until successfully impregnated and absorbed by
the Sangtee implantation.
So Diana
had lain there desperately hoping that she could find an escape to the
monstrous horror not only for herself but all the women suffering with them.
Tasha had rolled over, seeking comfort against the cold as they often did – the
rags they slept in providing no warmth.
Instead they warmed each other, snuggled together. Tasha was shorter and Diana would often roll
her gently to the side, cradling her and placing the Russians back to the stone
wall as she used her own frame to provide shelter from the night cold. Diana
had thought the red-head asleep until suddenly a hand with broken nails and
gently fingers had reached up and touched her cheek where a tear was moving
softly downwards.
Her eyes
had flickered down and seen Tasha looking up at her. There had been no expectation in her ice blue
eyes, no longing. Just acceptance and the offer of comfort.
Diana
had spent her whole life before becoming Wonder Woman in a society totally
without men. She had often seen her sisters
express their tender affections for each other.
But she had never kissed another woman until that night.
Lips
meeting, the tentative probing of uncertain desire, and then the rising fire of
something that could no longer be held in check. Bodies easing together as mouths opened to
wet pleasure, two sweet tongues caressing each other. Diana had strength and
stamina but in this arena she yielded to Tasha, who clearly had greater
experience. The Russian’s hands moved deftly over her taller companions form,
seeking the straps and ties of their filthy tunics, and Diana had let herself
be guided by the other woman’s lead until they had shed their vestiges of
modesty and lay naked and unashamed in each others arms.
They had
made love three times that first night, stifling each other cries with pressing
lips or by burying each other faces against trembling breasts or the warm moist
clefts of their beings. Sometimes Diana would take the lead, her unmatched
physical power taking Tasha hungrily, wantonly. Sometime she would submit to
the Cosmonauts caressing hands or flickering tongue, surrendering in a way that
only one who was truly confident and trusting could.
By day,
Diana would watch the guards, formulate and discard plans, observe every detail
for the weakness in the Sangtee’s armour.
By night she would find a place for them away from the watchful eyes of
the purple aliens and the two of them would huddle together. They did not always come together sexually,
but more often than not, they did. They
did not share words of love – the need that bound them together created a bond
beyond any romantic mumblings.
When
eventually escaped and returned to Earth politics and life had conspired to
keep them apart, but also both women understood that the bond they had shared,
though unbreakable, was one that could not be continued. Tasha had her life, Diana had hers. It was that simple.
Only
now, Diana’s life had once again dragged Tasha into terrible danger, and Mishka
with her.
The cell
door opened ponderously. Despite having
hundreds of hostages to keep her in line, her captors were taking no
chances. The door to the cell would have
taken a full 30 seconds for Diana to
break through.
The
Sangtee entered, but this time they were not alone. Vandal Savage was with them, smiling his
aristocratic smile, dressed in his fine black
Italian suit and cloak as if he were entertaining foreign dignitaries
instead of unrepentant sadists. Birds of
a feather, Diana though darkly.
‘Princess,’
Savage said, bowing. ‘You seem to be
holding up well. Our guests from space
and I were just debating how long it will take to break you. They seem to think it will happen quite
quickly, but one of the benefits of immortality is that it allows a man to take
the longer view.’
‘You’ll
both be disappointed, I think,’ Diana said stoically.
‘You
see, Princess,’ Savage said, twirling his fastidiously groomed beard
thoughtfully, ‘that’s one of the things
I admire about you – you never fail to have a decent riposte. Some of your ilk are so pedestrian in their
banter. That, and your breasts.’ Savage
continued to play with the black hair in his chin as he eyed her chest
admiringly, noting the erect nipples. Diana
might outwardly compose herself suspended nude in front of them, but even she
could not entirely control her body’s responses. ‘How are yours, by the way? The General and His Excellency said there
might be some residual tingling from the neural whip.’
Diana
cocked her eyebrow as the laser grid moved.
‘Put your hand in here and feel for yourself,’ she replied.
Savage
laughed. ‘And again. Wonderful.
I could truly continue this exchange all day, Princess, but I’m afraid
our lavender friends have a barbs of a rather different sort in mind.’
The
Sangtee nobleman nodded and pressed a button on his arm greave. Almost immediately a section of the floor ten
feet square slid away and into the black space created, a platform arose.
The
device was polished metal, flat except for the manacles and saddle like seats
made of the same metal as the smooth gleaming surface. Bound by cuffs to each of the seats were
female figures that Diana found all too familiar – Tasha and her daughter!
Diana
stared at the revealed apparatus furiously.
Both red-haired women were still nude, held onto the curving saddles
with their legs spread immodestly wide.
Tasha was on a seat near the middle of the square, leaning back with her
legs bent before her as is she were on a deckchair on the beach instead of an alien
torture machine. Her arms were pulled
back in the same way they had been when she and Mishka had been shackled to the
heating pole. Mishka was facing her
mother on the second seat, but unlike their earlier bondage this time she was
elevated, her saddle set on a pole about three feet above the metal plate so
that her legs were stretched almost straight, with her hands cuffed together
behind her back. Her breasts were full young cones that quivered with fear as
she looked about her, and Diana could see that she did indeed have a piercing in
her navel, adorned with a small bright white gem. Not only that, Diana could see that the pole
to which she had been bound last time had concealed a stylish tattoo of a
winged rose upon her lower belly, almost where her groin met her leg and just
above the level of her almost hairless mons.
That cleft space was still red from the scorching heat of the torture
pole, as was her mothers.
Both
women were gagged with metal bits in their teeth and secured by straps behind
their heads. Mishka simply looked terrified,
but Tasha looked up at Diana first in surprise and hope, and then a split
second later with the sickening knowledge that her Amazon companion was as
helpless as she was. ‘Duarna,’ she gurgled around the bit, and despite the
terrible danger to herself and her daughter the Wonder Woman saw the desperate
fear for her friend in the cosmonaut’s blue eyes. She groaned, Tasha’s selfless
concern only making her captivity more unbearable.
As Diana
watched, a pair of metal arms unfolded from the ceiling and descended towards
each naked captive. There seemed to be something wiggling at the end of each arm
where it ended in a needle-point as it moved down over each woman’s spread
legs, aiming for the sweet space in between. Tasha watched in fearful silence,
but her daughter was already sobbing, her longer red hair whipping about as she
tried hopelessly to wriggle free.
Tense
with anger and dread, the princess watched as the needles probed slowly forward
to within inches of each woman’s pouting labia; then closer, finally easing
inside as Tasha groaned and Mishka sobbed pathetically, frantic with terror.
The metal invaders held there for a moment, then withdrew, rising smoothly back
up into the ceiling.
'Now
Princess,' said the Sangtee noble, ‘each of your slut companions has been gives
a special present - one their weak female bodies are ill equipped to deal with,
I fear. You must remove it for them to survive.’
And
then, to her complete shock, Diana saw the beams of energy making her cage
flicker off. She was free, and the men torturing her and her friends stood only
fifteen feet away!
A surge
of rage and hatred erupted inside.
Before she was even aware herself of what has happening she was moving,
eyes fixed on her goal. Savage merely smiled like a demon, totally without
fear, even as the two Sangtee seemed to shift with the slightest sign of
unease, standing in front of the unrestrained Amazon as she was fuelled with
rage.
Like a
missile Diana hurtled across the room, murder in her liquid blue eyes, only to
come to a crashing halt in a flare of painful energy. Blue fire engulfed her briefly in an
agonizing halo, then she was thrown back between the other prisoners, gasping for air.
‘Force
field,’ Savage said, not bothering to
hide the gloating in his voice. 'Do be careful, Wonder Woman.' Diana cursed but refrained from clutching and
soothing her pain-throbbing breasts, having caught the worst of the energy
field’s impact on her body. Instead, she
rose and remained standing there, arms at her side, breathing heavily.
Tasha
watched her friend recovering from the painful shock, but then her attention,
and Diana’s too, were suddenly dragged to the teenaged Mishka. Before her
mother’s eyes the young girl was weeping and groaning as if in pain, her belly
and pelvis undulating. Tasha, her voice muffled by her gag, watched her
daughter suffer. But even as began to fight to free herself she also started to
moan as something began happening between her long legs, the muscles twitching
spasmodically.
Diana’s
head turned from one woman to the other as the pair began to writhe in the
saddles provided, the effect of the spread legs lending the scene a lewd, perversely
erotic quality. Both finely built females were literally grinding their asses
on the saddles, their thigh-tendons spasming.
“What
are you doing to them!” Diana demanded.
‘We;
nothing,’ Savage smiled, ‘but perhaps your would like to check on their other
little visitors.’
Diana
rushed to Tasha's side, cradling her head. Speaking words of comfort in the red-heads’
native Russian she gazed in sorrow at the Russian's face, the strong but lovely
features twisted with pain as she tried to focus on the Amazon. The heroine
could feel Tasha’s body convulsing, the spasms seeming to radiate from her
spread thighs. Meanwhile, a few feet away Mishka was writhing in her bonds like
a worm on the hook, her young, taut breasts swollen and her nipples standing up
hard and erect. Tears ran down the face of mother and daughter as their firm
bodies began to gleam in the lights.
With
loathing Diana forced herself to look down, her fingers probing gently between
the older captives nether lips, spreading them as Tasha groaned louder in pain.
‘Be strong, Tasha,’ Diana whispered, easing the crease of womanly flesh apart,
revealing what she sought.
At the
upper fold of the woman’ pinkness, attached to the very hood of Tasha's clitoris
was a small five armed creature, like a purple starfish with a single black eye
that stared up at the black haired Amazon princess. A sight she knew all too well.
‘You
remember Starro,’ Savage said.
Diana
looked down at the vilely pulsating creature using its five arms to grip the
delicate nub of flesh amid the soft folds of Tahsa’s womanliness. Despite its similarity to the innocuous
starfish of Earth’s oceans, this alien was anything but harmless. A being of vast intelligence and a seemingly
unlimited lust for power, the would be conqueror sought control of entire
worlds by taking over the minds of its victims through direct physical contact,
attaching itself to their face and thereafter directing them as will-less
automatons enslave to the thoughts of Starro’s primary body. Several times the
creature had tried to invade Earth, proving its powers of mental domination
were strong enough to overwhelm even the planet’s mightiest heroes, Diana
included. In the past, she and the other
members of the Justice League had defeated the alien’s plots by the narrowest
of margins.
‘These
are only infant versions of course,’ Savage went on, ‘and lack the control of
the central intelligence, but our Sangtee friends who procured them have
adapted them to suit our purpose. Currently they are accessing the nervous
system your friend and her daughter, hyper-stimulating it.’
As
Savage spoke, Tasha heaved and Diana felt her friends’ whole abdomen go rigid
as the muscles spasmed again. The flesh around her pussy tightened like skin
across a drum. She watched, in powerless fury, sick to her stomach at the sight
of her former lover’s seizures. Opposite on the higher saddle Mishka gave a
gargled scream that send drool running down her chin. Both women twisted in a rictus of pain, their
lower bodies twitching and jerking as if they were trying to expel the alien
from them.
‘Stop
it!’ Diana grated over her shoulder, but Savage made no response. ‘STOP IT NOW!’
she commanded her captors. ‘You already know I will do as you ask – it is
pointless to hurt them further.
‘Unfortunately
we can’t,’ the Sangtee noble explained, clearly enjoying the sight of the
women’s pain. His eyes were bright with
pleasure as the two females gurgled piteously, their breasts bobbing as they
squirmed in their bondage. ‘But you can.’
Diana
reacted instincitively, reaching out and pinching the little horror between
finger and thumb. But even as she made
ready to rip it off her friends body, she paused. Her eyes flicked towards the three cowards
behind their force field.
‘Ah,
well done. You see gentlemen,’ said Savage, ‘she understands quickly –such
mundane methods will kill, not save, and painfully too.’
In this
underdeveloped state, the Starro aliens find it hard to keep control of the
victim if the subject receives too much outside
stimulation,' Savage explained, leering. ‘So, all you have to do is stimulate
the two ladies enough, and the creatures will detach and their pain will
end.’ Diana looked down at Tasha’s wet
cleft as another spasm made the lithe Cosmonaut arch back, shaking
uncontrollably while she gave a muffled ‘GGAAARRRRRRRRGGG!’ of agony. ‘Of
course, considering how much pain they’re in, you’d have to be pretty –
arousing.’ His face was alight with
malevolence as he drew out the last word.
Diana’s
own face actually paled at the statement. ‘You can´t expect me to...!" she
began. But she had no time to contemplate the horror of it as both women
screamed around in unison, their beautifully similar bodies performing a naked
dance of pain.
'And
you’d better hurry,' the Sangtee sighed, ‘It sounds like their frail female
nervous system will explode if left too much longer.’
Diana
closed her eyes in misery. Even now, the
level male cruelty was able to astonish and sicken her to her very core. She
tenderly, reluctantly, slid her hand towards Tasha´s pain-spasming pussy. But
even as she did so, the Russian shook her head furiously.
Diana cupped
her chin, having to hold it steady, the Russian mother was trembling so hard –
the pain she was enduring at the apex of her sexuality must have been horrific.
‘I must Tasha,’ she whispered, but as the other again moaned in refusal the
Princess followed the woman’s eyes to where her only daughter was thrashing in
pain. Head twisted back, the limber young dance student wriggled as if an
invisible rapist where riding her without mercy. Tasha nodded at her squirming
daughter imploringly, her eyes begging Diana without words.
Wonder Woman let a tear stain her cheek. Diana bent down, kissing her former lover on
the lips. ‘First Mishka,’ Diana
whispered in agreement, ‘but then you Tasha.’ The lovely victim wept in agony,
but managed to nod tightly.
Diana
rose with a dancers grace and moved between the teens legs. She did not look back at Tasha, or the men
beyond her who were watching with voyeuristic glee. She touched the girl’s legs, squeezing just
hard enough to induce the girl to drag her head around to face her. 'Mishka,
you must look at me' she said firmly.
The
young girl [so young] looked down in terror, her face red with weeping and
torment. The muscles of her lithe
dancers form were straining as if to burst. Her face twisted with a fresh surge
of agony exploding in her teenage cunt as she bit down on the metal bar lodged
across her mouth. ‘You must concentrate on me,’ Diana said, ‘focus on me and
what I am doing.’
Diana
slid her hands inwards to rest on Mishka's groin, cupping it and stroking it
gently. As she did she felt it convulse
again and the girl groaned in pain.
'You
must trust me - and the pain will end.'
Mishka's
eyes were wide with pure terror, but she caught the look of hope in her mother’s
eyes and she nodded while fresh tears rolled down her face. She cried out, her gag muffling her cries of
pain and pleads for mercy. ‘PPLLSSSS! MMMK UT SSTTPPP!!’
Diana
heard Tasha subbing uncontrollably and felt her own gentle heart ready to burst
with compassion, but she steadied herself and began rubbing gently over
Mishka´s labial lips. Fingers that could twist steel roamed with the softness
of butterflies wings. ‘I will,’ she promised, as her fingers moved inside,
feeling the horrible pressure as the teens twitching pussy clamped tight, trying to crush itself with its own frenzied
strength.
Diana
pushed, gently yet firmly, against the fleshy resistance, burying two fingers
inside Mishka´s quivering cunt lips. Slowly she commenced moving them back and
forth...then moving one fingertip over to try stroking her pain-throbbing clit.
At the
touch of Diana’s questing digit the girl howled like a damned soul, her back
arching. TheAmazon flinched at the
sound...how could she possibly counteract the pain when the brush of her finger
was wreaking havoc on the very spot she was meant to soothe?
Realising
she would have to be patient, she moved upwards on Mishka´s heaving
body...seizing her young, pert breasts in both her hands. While her own mighty
breasts all but filled the space between their bodies, Diana used her fingers
gently. With deft caresses she
stimulated Misha’s left nipple, while she bend her head and used her tongue
flickered around her right tit-tip. Feeling the tension ease in the girl
beneath her, she drew the stiff nipple between her lips and began sucking at
it...gently like a baby at her mothers bosom, using her tongue to flicker about
the round pink button.
Mishka
sobbed, her eyes travelling to her mother and seeing Tasha, watching it all as
her own body was slowly and painfully destroyed by the alien clamped to her sex
nub. Mishka was no virgin, not even in the sexuality between two women, but she
never dreamed in her worst nightmare that she would have her mother watching
her sexed under torture. The teenager felt Diana lean into her, the firm Amazon
tits pillowing against her flat belly as full red lips and glistening tongue
played over her breasts, making them swell with arousal. But then the pain hit
her again, and again, filling her pussy with fire and making her twist in
agony. Beneath Diana the Russian girl sinuously writhed, smashing her soft form
against the full breasts and exquisite body of the heroine.
Diana
pulled back - feeling Mishka losing whatever control she had left. If the girl
panicked now Diana would be there when her lover watched her daughter die in
screaming agony, and only one thing left for her to do to prevent it.
Resolved,
Diana tried to block out Tasha´s ever-more-frantic wails of pain from her mind,
while tending to Mishka. She knew that every second spent on the teen was being
paid for with her mothers’ anguish, and that already her proud reluctance had
caused the two to suffer. With no more
time to squander of her own sensibilities, and a sulphurous Greek curse, Diana
ducked her head, using her fingers to spread the teen’s pussy lips. Then
without hesitation, the Amazon clamped her mouth over the teens tortured cunt,
her tongue diving deep and rubbing over the stiff, starfish covered clit
.
The
contact with the Starro sending bolts of pain through her tongue into her mouth
cavity and into her brain. Diana
groaned, but kept the contact steady, swirling her tongue about the rim of the
encompassed sex-button, wiggling the tip around the flesh not completely
covered. The stimulation from the alien invader
had rendered Miska’s pussy slick with musky juices, and the scent and taste of
the girl washed over the gorgeous heroine. The pain from touching the Starro
made it feel like she was drinking boiling oil, yet she licked at the teens
clit with steely resolve. Mishka moaned, feeling the easing of her torment,
determined not to fail her friend, no matter what the suffering to herself.
The pain
was easing enough for her to think and girl’s arms pulled back. She angled her
head to take in the sight of the worlds most beautiful woman sucking at her
tender young twat, feeling the powerful tongue playing over her intimate
regions with intricate tenderness and forceful passion. Sexual arousal was fighting with sexual pain,
and Wonder Woman’s tongue was deft and sure, tickling the nub, teasing it,
pressing her warm deep into the pussy folds to massage the clit between the
soft pouting red lips. Diana made herself not think this was the teenage
daughter of one of her best friends, or of the three monsters watching it all
ten feet away. All that she focused on was to save a helpless human being from
pain and death...that was all that counted. Her pride, the pain making her jaws
ache and her head pound were nothing.
Mishka´s
breathing became steadier, yet heavier with each second, slow panting gasps as
Diana won the war of stimulation, determinedly bringing the tortured dancer further
into a moist well of ecstasy.
A few
feet away Tasha watched Diana’s tongue licking fervently at her daughter’s love
crest, the Amazons full lips sucking and playing with the lips of Miska’s
youthful quim. She could see her teenage
girl responding to Diana’s attentions with all the passion that she herself had
displayed on those cold nights in the slave camp, the young one jerking her
hips to get Diana to press her mouth harder against the soft cushions of skin
enclosing her pink pussy.
Sucking
and lapping at Mishka’s sweet sex, Diana let a little moan escape her won lips,
using the pain the Starro was funnelling into her to help the girl as the
vibration from her mouth tickled the fully erect button of nerves blanketed by
the invader. The girl was moving her
hips wantonly now, actually fucking Diana’s mouth while the three villains and
her mother watched. Her eyes were closed, lids fluttering as the gorgeous
Amazon used her fingers to gently push in and out of her soaking wet love
tunnel, pushing the dancer towards the throes of rapture that should release
her from her hell.
But even
as she felt Mishka nearing the moment of release, behind her, Diana could hear
Tasha wheezing, gasping her last. Her
suffering too great, the lovely Cosmonaut was at the edge of a horrific death
as her sexual nub flooded her body with unendurable suffering. Her body was
rigid with pain, her exhausted muscles still spasming in agony, forcing her to
twist and wrench her supple body like a puppet on the string of a demented
master.
Diana
had failed. Her pride had meant that she had taken too long, and now while
Tasha’s daughter was there as a witness the Amazon’s friend and lover would pay
the price.
Part VI
Birds of Prey
Abruptly steel collars snapped around Black
Canary’s and Huntress’ throats, pulling back their heads against the platforms
they were bound to and almost choking them.
The cruel steel allowed them to breath
laboriously, loud wheezing breathes that made their well developed chests go up
and down with quick, jerking motions. Both their eyes opened wide in surprise,
Dinah was about to speak herself when without warning something like a needle stabbed out of the inside to the collar to pierce her larynx with a sharp pain. She gasped…
…AND THE SOUND SHRILLED THORUGH THE ROOM, PIERCING ENOUGH TO MAKE HUNTRESS WINCE IN PAIN!
Dinah blinked in shock- somehow their captors had tapped into her canary cry. The effect was obvious - her slightest utterance was now an uncontrolled weapon, capable of crippling her friend held bound facing her, or even worse.
As
Dirty
bastards! Dinah thought, yet dared not even whisper
those words.
Two feet away another blade cut across Dinah's midriff, exposing flesh as the tight black suit peeled back as it was rent cleanly.
There was no answer, but the blades went to work - snick, snick, snick - mechanically shredding lycra and fishnet.
***
In the room with the video feed, Barbara watched in appalled horror as the blades methodically disrobed her friends. Each cut and stroke of the razors left what she new must be a stinging cut on their smooth skin, and slowly the costumes began to peel away to reveal the athletic, incredibly sexy forms beneath. These were bodies that Barbara knew many a man would kill to see, and now they could, while she was helpless to prevent it. But even though the sight filled her with despair and horror, the crime-fighting beauty did not look away. If she could do nothing to prevent this heinous act, she would at least honour her friends’ courage by being with them throughout, even if it was but as a helpless onlooker.
"You know I can’t hack into the Amazon computer! There is no point to this!" she seethed.
Both Helena and Dinah were now almost naked, mere shreds of their uniforms hanging from her bared limb, bellies and backs. Their quivering legs were still encompassed by their long boots, but it was a travesty of decency. Knowing her own recent feelings of helplessness, Barbara could only imagine the personal hell Dinah was suffering as the machines stripped her – the memories of her past ordeal would be torture enough to break almost anyone, but Barbara knew Dinah was strong. She just hoped – no, prayed – that she was strong enough.
“On the contrary,” the voice answered to her impassioned statement. “It will at least be very entertaining.” A microphone and smaller screen appeared out of the wall in front of her. “Enter your voice commands whenever you feel inclined,” the voice smirked.
***
In the room, the blades finally stopped their relentless progress. Both women's bodies were now nude except for their boots and a few clinging scraps and rags that concealed nothing. Their skin was criss-crossed with fine red lines showing where the metal had kissed their white skin, and the muscles on their arms and legs were bunched involuntarily from having the potentially lethal knives carving at them. Both were perspiring and their flat stomachs twitched as they released some of their tension. With their costumes shredded, their captors could now get a full examination of their feminine forms, and truly, heroic was not to strong a word to describe the vista revealed. Their breasts and womanly clefts, so long a point of speculation, now lay exposed and deliciously vulnerable.
Dinah’s boobs were larger, pink tipped and full and nicely rounded, the globes of a woman in her late twenties that had only just begun to succumb to gravity but retained all of the delightful firmness of youth. Helena’s were smaller and perkier, smooth luscious hemispheres with bigger, darker nipples, which like Dinah’s were stiffly erect as they felt the cool air brush over them.
Locked to their platforms the two super-heroes were avoiding looking at each other, trying to adjust to the monstrousness of what was being done to them. The Huntresses body was lean and muscular, with an abdomen defined by the faint ridges of the incredible musculature beneath. The Canary’s form was more athletic, with a bit more flesh to her curves but in no way less imposing, her upper arms a little better developed and her shorter legs a tad more powerfully set. Between her thighs Dinah’s cleft was a pink slit bearded by a light yellow fuzz, while her companions female slit was a completely visible meeting of soft folds with a pencil thin line of black pubic hair highlighting it from above.
Dinah kept her mind calm, focussed. She tried not to think of the last time villains had had her tied up and helpless and had stripped her naked. Instead, she was trying to concentrate on the crisis and figuring out a way to help herself and her friends.
She glanced over at her friend, now as
naked as she was. Dinah was beautifully
endowed, sexy and strong. There was no
doubt in Huntress’ mind this was more than interrogation for information – this
was about having two ass-kicking gorgeous super-babes completely helpless. Well
if they expected their captives to start begging any time soon,
Again, there was no response to the taunt. But a hatch opened in the floor and both women heard something rising on a metal pole, something that, when it was finally high enough for them to see by straining their heads against the metal collar, made even Huntress blanch, and caused Dinah’s eyes to widen with disgust.
Paused between them three feet above the floor and level with their groins sat a double-headed phallus, worked in chrome metal, tiny reflections of the trapped heroines mirrored in its sleek silver curves.
***
Barbara shook her head in muted denial as she saw it, too. "You sick bastards!" she hissed, her control shaken. This was beyond cruelty – this was obscene.
'You have no idea,’ answered the voice.
***
In the room
'What, no lube?'
***
Barbara cringed as she got a good look at the dildo. It was no laughing matter. She knew no matter what, she could not let these fiends into the amazons systems, but the price...
Shaped in a V configuration atop the pole, both ends pointing up at the two females’ clefts were wide and thick; far thicker than the average penis. The extremeties were studded with blunt spikes, designed for maximal discomfort, and she did not doubt there was probably worse to come.
Suddenly the platforms moved, pushing the bound women towards each other, and towards the metal cocks.
***
The frames kept moving, pushing the bound
women together as
Below their slender waists’ both women could feel the outthrust hardness of the dildo pushing at their unresponsive nether regions. The pressure threatened to violate their feminine temple as their pussy lips felt the push of the cock head, but they were spared that indignity for the moment as the machine stopped and the gears whined to silence.
The prisoners’ relief was short lived however. Once again, the metal arms descended, but this time the blades were gone, replaced with claws. They dropped down on either side of the prisoners and then stretched languidly across between the legs of the women, reaching between their flat bellies for the pouting cleft between each heroines thighs. Sharp talons probed patiently, compensating for the tight jerking movements of the prisoners as they felt the mechanical probes hunting for the opening of their vagina’s and then grasped the sides of the cleft tightly, making Helena gasp, and Dinah wince in pain. Both women squirmed inwardly, feeling the soulless mechanical appendages touching their most sacred flesh
Then with their cold steel claws secured on the lips of the women’s sexual organs, the machines started to pull, prying open the soft folds and opening each women’s carnal flower.
Dinah bit down on her full lip in order to
fight down her urge to gasp, if not to scream. Inches away
Suddenly the merciless stretching stopped and the platforms moved forward again - slowly, very slowly. Two brave women felt the dildo touch their pink petals and the pole upon which the phallus was mounted moved to, rising up a little to start pushing the sex-tool inside them, penetrating them without respect or consent. Even with their labias’ stretched like this, their pussies protested at the sheer hugeness of both metal cocks as the bulbous head put a painful strain on their pussies. The puckered softness of the inner gates was pushed callously aside by the dull spikes, the steel rape-tools stretching the entrances agonizingly wide open.
Less than a foot away Dinah had her eyes open, but looking to the side so she didn’t see her friends pain, which she could understand all to well as her own blonde quim was shoved inch by inch onto the gleaming shaft. Denied even the luxury of giving voice to her ordeal the yellow haired beauty kept her full lips pressed tight, jaw set firmly as she and Helena were both impaled. The head was fully in her now, pushing into her sex-tunnel with a jerk as her dry, unprepared lips gave way. The Canary’s ample chest rose as the cock grated into their channels, each woman cunt-shafts slowly being forced to expand in order to accommodate the hideously proportioned invader raping its way towards their wombs.
The pole eased upwards and dildos went
higher and higher inside their bellies. Soon both winced and began to twist in
their bonds, as both metal cocks began pushing against the deepest pit of their
pussy.
***
In her chair, Barbara watched with her hands gripping the arms of the chair as the dildo pushed deeper. You could tell heir vagina’s now genuinely hurting now, pain written clearly on both women’s faces. How far inside was it now – seven inches? Eight? The red head wept behind her glasses, knowing with that sort of penetration their cervix’ would be feeling the pressure, labial lips feeling they would tear as they were pushed back wider and wider, almost touching their inner thighs.
‘NNNNNNNNNNN…AAAAAAAA,’ gasped Huntress. Both began struggling to stay on their toes in a feeble attempt to ease the pressure on their wombs. Then the platform stopped. The yellow and black-haired women stood panting, able to feel their tits push together as they breathed.
Then the dildo in Helena´s
cunt began slide up, pushing up still further on an mechanism inside the cylinder while the one in Dinah´s snatch remained fully embedded but still.
‘God, no,’ Barbara sobbed, closing her eyes. Oh
God, Dinah…
***
Feeling the monstrous thing inside her moving as it eased in again and unable to hold back any longer, Dinah let out a tiny gasp…, 'Aaa!'
The cry hit
With their perky nipples crushed together,
the two felt the shared heat of their bodies, sweat-soaked tits bulging against
each other and in unison as their shared sexual degradation went on. Then
suddenly, without warning,
Diana bit down, teeth bared, refusing to scream…and then the current stopped, leaving the two heroines panting while the fucking continued.
"Enjoying your treatment so far?"
a voice chuckled. Dinah could say
nothing, and
'Up...ahhh...and too the...nnnn... left a bit.'
In answer the current flared again, forcing her to scream so loud it hurt Dinah’s ears as her face too was harrowed with pain. The two jerked wildly as the current flared inside Huntress’ lithe body and crossed the connection made by their wet round tits and went hammering into Dinah like two burning fists crushing her mammary meat. Somehow the wiring inside the twin-dildo must allow one side to be electrified while the other remained uncharged. Even so, the blue-eyed womans body was so taught as she endured the electrical torture funnelling into her rounded chest it almost dislocated her hips and shoulders.
"My you dance beautifully!" the voice gloated. The power faded again, leaving the two women bathed in sweat and supported on their torture tables by trembling legs. Between those supple limbs the dildos were sliding easier now that their cunts had been stretched. In and out - fuck, fuck, fuck, starting to twist inside them to give them maximum sensation and filling each with agonizing, indecent pleasure.
The Huntress finally could endure no more. "Oh you BASTARDS!" she cried out, tears staining her mask as the prisoner’s tender sex organs began responding instinctively. To tired to control their responses, worn by pain, their pussy passages were starting to undulate on the invading mechanical probes. Each horrible phallus was wet and shiny as they glided in and out of their moistening clefts. The prisoners strapped into the despicable equipment were no longer heroes, but women being violated without mercy.
Without the slightest conscious thought, Dinah and Helena began rubbing their tits against each other, both flesh-globes swelling with sexual fervour.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Huntress screamed again, the power arcing through her blonde friend into her tits this time, so that they felt as if they had been stuffed with burning coals. She shook violently, slamming herself against Black Canary while both were lifting against each other. They did not even feel the platforms to which they were bound moving as their incredible bodies lay trembling, thrashing and twisting under the force of the current riding through them. The power made them move enough for their shapely hips to touch as well, the electricity making the sweaty flesh coming together like the shock of a cattle prod.
***
In her private room Barbara Gordon was sobbing loudly, no longer able to look at the screen in front of her. Her hands were pressed over her ears in a vain attempt to block out the sound of the electrical discharge, the never-ending hum of the dildos pumping in and out of female clefts and Huntresses wailing screams of pain.
***
Pussy lips brushed around the metal cock monster as the platform pushed further forward. They were pressed so tightly now it was a struggle for each heroine to breathe as their cunts met, moist and quivering as their owners struggled with asphyxiation. The pumping of the torture cocks was steady now and the bursts of electricity timed to match the thrusts, forcing the heroines onto the brink of exploding into orgasm. Their eyes were closed tight to try and deny to feeling, to shut it out, but pain and shock had left them vulnerable and they no longer had the will power to fight their female bodies urges. Huntress’ moans had transformed into carnal grunts as she undulated her body against Dinah’s, feeling the firm muscle beneath that flawless smooth skin. Dinah too was helpless to deny what her cunt was telling her – that she wanted it, wanted the release and wanted it with Helena rubbing that spectacular twenty something gymnasts body against her own; belly to belly, tit to tit, cunt to hot wet cunt.
Helana opened her eyes behind her mask and saw Dinah about to lose
control. She would cry out, and the
force would kill her friend, her partner.
Dinah would have killed her in the throes of vile arousal and she would
never forgive herself – it would destroy her as surely as it did
***
“Last chance Ms Gordon,” the voice announced. “These women are going to die right now in front of you if you don’t do as we ask.”
And looking into the faces of her two friends, Barbara knew she had only one card left to play.
“Alright!” she screamed, clawing at the arms of the chair and focussing on the computer terminal in front of her with the access portal to the Amazon manframe. Her eyes were wide and red with tears. “I’ll do it, just stop it! For God’s sake, stop hurting them!”
***
In the room of horror,
***
Barabara worked frantically, vocally inputting programming codes into the computer in front of her. Each time the Amazon firewalls came down to block her access. The Themyscrian protective programs were such that the red head wondered even if she were really trying she could crack them.
The sounds of suffering continued on the main screen. Barbara made herself look to see what was happening to her two friends – a civilian in her place would be drawn to watch what was happening, and she had to play out her role. She saw them kissing, their mouths moving as they frenched each other shamelessly.
‘You need to do better,’ the speaker voice said with impatience. ‘These two cannot last forever.’
‘It takes time!’ Barbara screamed, ripping her eyes away from the video display. It was hard to feign panic like this without giving way to the real thing. ‘It can’t happen instantly!’
‘Then I suppose you should have started sooner,’ the voice sneered, as Dinah and Helena convulsed in their bindings, mouths still locked together. ‘It looks like they’re intent on dying happy. We’ll have to fix that.’
***
The current blazed once more through the
female crime-fighters, this time both their pussy’s receiving the horrible mind
destroying jolt of agony. They spasmed in unison and Huntress scream of pain
filled Dinah’s mouth. Their fingers were
clawing at the air as they jerked hard enough to bruise each other’s ribs.
Dinah’s heart was pounding so hard her neck
felt full of blood. Huntress tongue was
a wet eel, wriggling against her lips and past her teeth into her mouth. Dinah
understood the yearning in her own loins and responded to the kiss in kind,
concentrating on lapping at the warm dancing muscle with her own pink member.
It seemed like sparks of electricity stabbed her where her body and Helena’s
connected, their breasts and bellies stung by invisible scorpions, over and
over. The pain clenched its white-hot fist around her womanhood again and she
felt like her womb was being torn out of her by demons, but she didn’t let herself
scream. She crushed
***
Barbara’s too was crying, so hard she could barely make out the screens in front of her. Twice as she looked over at the two torture victims dying in agony she almost let herself hack the system for real. If this did not work, if the villains knew her identity all along, her friends would die in horrible pain. She was gambling with their lives.
Finally, she couldn’t let it go on any longer. Had she tried enough to convince them. It didn’t matter. She could not let this continue.
“I can’t,” she screamed, pounding the arms
of her chair. ‘I can’t do it! Please stop it – PLEASE!’ The two prisoners
were writhing so hard their shoulders seemed ready to dislocate. ‘YOU SICK BAGS OF SHIT,’ she howled, the
tears running down over her chin, ‘I CAN’T FUCKING DO IT!’
***
The sensations were beyond controlling now. Helena let go, riding the dildo and pushing her cunt lips against Dinah’s, smearing herself over her friends pulsing sex, kissing her above and below as their clits rubbed together across the tops of the metal shafts. Their sopping female juice mingled into a gloriously wet and sticky whole as the electricity came in roaring bursts to scorch them, burning their cunts as they fucked each other. Their wombs were on fire with pain and pleasure, and neither was really sure were one ended and the other began. They only knew they were helpless, the victims of forces that the torture had unleashed and which they could not resist or deny.
Dinah felt her pussy exploding in a
thunderous orgasm, pushing her clit fiercely against Helena´s
clit, kissing her frantically, their breaths mixing in their joint wetness of
their mouths. Below her waist her pussy juices were sizzling on the electrified
dildo as she came and came. Her whole muscular body was tearing itself apart,
crushed against the rock hard softness of
They pumped against each other, lovers being tortured together, and as the taller Huntress felt her own climax rip through her she pulled herself free of Dinah’s kissable mouth, head pointing to the roof as she let out a scream of rapture and misery.
‘GOD DAMN IT…AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!’ She thrashed against Dinah in complete sexual abandon, until the power arced and the agony came again to bury the blissful waves of orgasm under its flaring mantle of inconceivable pain. Both women shrieked and howled at last, Dinah´s cry of pain adding to Helena´s suffering as her body was not only wrenched and twisted by the voltage but by the sonic waves, too. The electrical charge pumping into the women increased further, their exquisite curves thrashing in sexual torture. Pain became agony in a seemingly endless dance of suffering and cries and sweat and tears. They tumbled toward darkness with the feel of each other burned into their minds and the mechanical voice over the speakers giggling sadistically.
Huntress was bleeding from the ears and
nose as the Black Canary’s sound waves pummelled her, drowning our her own
screams and threatening to tear her apart in her bonds. But before the
shrieking cry to rise to a lethal pitch, the Canary gasped, out of breath from
the furious kiss that
***
Barbara sat hunched over, her head buried in her hands and racked with sobs as the sounds of pain ceased. Finally she let herself look up.
Dinah and Helena lay against each other, the latters head resting on the blonde’s shoulder. They were covered in the bright red lacerations from the disrobing, soaked with sweat. Red blood was oozing from between their legs. Barbara could not see either breathing.
‘You sick fucks!’ she whispered, looking at the blood on the women’s thighs. What damage had those spiked didlo head inflicted on the soft pinkness inside each of the brave women. As she spoke, the computer panel went black.
‘You will be taken to a holding cell, Ms Gordon,’ the voice announced, as the screen with the prisoners also went black. ‘Food will be provided in due course.’
Barbara stared at the roof. ‘Wait,’ she cried. She had to know. ‘I did everything I could. Are they…?’
‘You need not concern yourself,’ answered the voice, as the door behind her opened. Mercenaries moved into the room behind her. ‘What happens to them is no longer under your control.’
Then they’re alive, Barbara though, not letting the relief show on her face until the bag was again dropped over her head. She wept again with thankfulness.
The monster on the other end of the speaker was wrong. She would be in control of Dinah’s and Helena’s fate, sooner or later. And after that, she swore she would hold the lives of the sick freaks responsible for this horror in her hands as well.
VIII
Diana
Vandal Savage had lived for almost 10 millennia, and in that time he had seen many amazing things. But for the immortal life of him, he could not remember any as breathtakingly satisfying as this.
The Amazon princess Diana continued to lick and suck at the pussy of the teenage Russian dance girl, smearing her lips and face with the slick juices of the girls arousal. Diana’s persistence began to suppress the pain of the Starro organism with stimulation of a much different kind. The tall heroine’s body was turned so that it faced Savage in its full glory, 5’11” of smooth supple flesh, athletic but curvaceous, with a tight waist, longs legs still clad in their tall red and white boots, and magnificent breasts that sat with a firm roundness that no ordinary human woman could hope for naturally and no plastic surgeon could hope to match. Her movement ministering to the tortured girl made her form undulate and quiver, and with her legs spread to allow her balance as she face-fucked the prisoner, Diana’s pink pussy mount sat exposed like a soft gentle swelling of fleshy paradise.
Beside the undying villain the two Sangtee watched enraptured as the elder Russian approached the limit of her endurance. Savage had to admit the ex-cosmonaut was a credit to her nation, not just in her attractive face and finely toned body but also in her resilience under the clit torture administered by the tiny alien in her pussy. Most women would have a suffered a cardiac arrest or embolism by this time, and the majority of those that survived this long would have been reduced to blubbering insanity by the pain shredding their nervous system. But without any super-powers the red-haired mother was still alive and, to judge by the muffled curses coming from her gagged mouth, reasonably coherent.
Was it this strength that attracted Wonder Woman to her, or were females of this ilk just drawn to cross the Amazon’s path? Savage shrugged mentally. It did not matter what the answer was, since ultimately both Tasha and Diana would soon be dead.
Savage looked at Diana’s pussy again, flexing and dilating with the rhythm of her lusty tonguing of teenage quim. Not too soon of course, he promised himself.
Inside the force field, Diana heard Tasha losing her battle with the Starro punishing her defenceless clitoris and knew she had no more time to waste. Quickly she slipped her mouth from Mishka’s juice-soaked pussy to glance down at where the twenty-something mother was strapped to her saddle, the Amazon moving her own black tufted slit towards the redheads splayed thighs. Mishka moaned in frustration as Diana ceased her rapturous eating of her womanhood, but Diana needed to see to get herself positioned quickly. Tasha’s seat rose about two feet off the platform, her legs splayed at an almost 90 degree angle with the line of the sender limbs rising to her knees came up just higher than her waist, before running down to her shackled feet. Pushing her buttocks of the floor and supporting her weight with one outstretched arm, Diana swung her long right leg up and then over the top of Tasha’s left as they faced each other, bringing it down to rest on the floor draped over the Russian’s left hip. The smooth motion acted to bring their pink clefts into line, the two sensuous flowers of womanhood hovering inches apart.
With her finger diddling the teenager to keep her aroused, Diana eased her sex into contact with the girl’s mother, their sex-lips coming together with a gentle smack of flesh against flesh. Wasting no time Diana moved her hips, using the motion to spread both their labia’s and let their most intimate flesh rub against each other. She pressed and wiggled, desperate to find Tasha’s button that she had experienced so joyfully in the past, until at last…
‘GGGAAAAAAAA!!!’
The pain hit Diana with an unreal quality, as if she were experiencing it outside her body. One moment she was starting to pussy-fuck her former lover, the next she was arcing her body as her love-meat was filled with a terrible searing fire. The Amazon gasped and moaned, pulling herself away from the cosmonaut instinctively. Tasha moaned louder. Her head pulled back, and her breasts and body was covered with diamond drops of sweaty pain.
Swearing in ancient Greek Diana braced herself and forced her hips back, again placing her labia against Tasha’s and rotating her waist to tease the red-head’s nether lips open. With her tongue deep in the daughter the Amazon princess found the mother’s clit and jammed her own hips hard.
Again the Russians suffering flooded into the heroine’s own sexual being, but this time Diana kept the contact firm. The muscles along her tapered thighs tensed like steel cables, but she refused to pull away. Under her long lashes her blue eyes looked along the length of her own twitching body to see Tasha regaining her senses as her pain subsided. Gradually the lovely mother was becoming aware of the very different sensation swelling between her legs.
‘Giarna,’ the elder Russian groaned around her bit-gag. The superheroines’ silky pussy was sending waves of desire through her red-tufted quim as pain gave way to swelling waves of pleasure as quickly as a switch being thrown. Her eyes met the heavy lidded glance of the muscular Amazon, seeing the anguish in those liquid blue eyes but also the determination, and the love. She could see Diana’s tongue flickering in her daughter’s pussy, the gratitude and shame torturing her heart as fully as the insidious Starro bud had tormented her flesh.
Standing outside the force field the three men watched the unfolding drama with passionate interest, their eyes roaming over the three female bumping and grinding together in their miserable bondage. The Sangtee general grunted periodically as he observed the responses of Diana’s warrior body to the painful stimulation to her mouth and cunt, breathing deeply as he watched her own chest shudder and heave with every breath. Next to him the noble’s purple gaze switched almost frantically from Diana’s tongue lapping at Mishka’s pink gaping cleft, to the sight of her and Tasha’s pussy meat rubbing against each other, over and over. One of the heroines booted feet braced against the floor as their thighs interlocked and both women bodies moved to the rhythm of the Amazon’s pumping hips.
Even Savage was not unmoved by the sight of
carnal female suffering before him. Not since his days in Caligula’s
However, while that was certainly an encounter to be anticipated, other needs took precedence. Not that what followed would be without any visceral reward. Turning his head without averting his eyes from the spectacle on the platform, Savage laid his hand lightly on the Sangtee noble’s shoulder to get his attention, then nodded with a smile.
The Noble signalled to the General, who nodded in response. Both men stepped through the force field with only a flicker of energy to outline their armoured forms.
For all her suffering, Diana was not the least less aware of her surroundings. Her warrior senses detected the approach of the Sangtee instantly, and she seized at her chance, bracing herself to rise. Tasha and Mishka could not endure the pain of the Starro buds for more than 30 seconds at most, but that was 20 seconds more than she would need to incapacitate these scum and effect their freedom.
Savage, however, had anticipated her again. Her merest movement to pull away from the red-haired mother and daughter sent a jolt of excruciating pain arcing through her body, and left both the other prisoners howling incoherently. The pain filled her mind with a flood of blinding light that seemed to be searing her eyes from her head, leaving her reeling.
‘A word of advice, Princess,’ she heard Savage saying from his place on the other side of the force field. ‘By connecting to both aliens at the same time, your nervous system and that of your Russian partners are now linked through the Starro implants, and will continue to be so until they detatch. Removing your ministrations would be akin to tearing off a limb for those involved. You would probably survive the shock, of course, but the other ladies…’ He felt no need to complete the sentence.
Savage craned his head so that he could see the Princess glaring hatefully at him through tear filled eyes, but she immediately began lapping and humping the other females again.
Diana let her anger feed her strength, needing every bit of it to keep her contact with the pair of prisoners. Her ass tensed as she used her legs and arm to hold herself off the ground and massage Tasha’s fevered vagina with her own now-gaping mons, while her swiftly dancing tongue felt as if it had been wired into a power source and jolts of electricity sent roaring through it. The agony made her face twist with pain and the athletic beauty felt like her jaw was being torn away.
Standing over the three women, the Sangtee prepared to take things to the next level. As Diana glanced up with wetness in her eyes each drew out one of the neural whips they had recently used on her. The other women whimpered and groaned at the sight, and Diana flinched in her sexing. Was there any deed too heinous for these monsters?
‘The neural link with these other bitches which Lord Savage spoke of provides us with so many possibilities,’ the alien noble purred to the wiggling Amazon. ‘You can feel the pain being applied through the Starro creature in their vile soft reproductive system, but it also allows a conduit for other sources of suffering, like…this!’
With a flick of his hand, he sent the whipcord snaking around Mishka’s teenage waist and across the small of her back. The energy discharge made the young dance girl shriek and convulse, and suckling at her pussy Diana moaned as she felt identical agony tearing at her own back and flared waist. It was truly as if the purple sadist had used the whip on Diana herself.
While she was still groaning, the General brought his own arm up and then laid a hissing stroke across Tasha’s gleaming belly. The former cosmonaut let her head drop back as she howled brokenly, and again Diana felt the pain ripping at her own sweat-painted flesh, like a hot blade slicing her open. Both of them jerked spasmodically, pulling their sopping pink womanhoods away from each other. Instantly they felt themselves subjected to even more horrible pain through the neural bonding.
‘These tools are extremely effective, as you know, whore Princess,’ the Noble was saying. ‘They adjust to the neural signature of the target, maximizing the subject’s pain, but they are also quite flexible in their application. Observe.’
He held the whip where Diana could stare up at it from where she was using her tongue to delve into Mishka’s pouting pink folds, and touched a button. As she watched, the cord retracted to almost half its length, stiffening as it went to create a slender metal wand three feet long and crackling with energy.
The nineteen year old watched the tip of the wand dip down toward her pierced navel, eyes wide and shaking her head as she whimpered through the gag. Tasha grunted loudly in anger, pulling at her shackled wrists. Diana could only watch, the hand that was braced on the floor to support her raised form tensed.
The wand touched Mishka’s navel lightly, and there was a green spark. The young girl shrieked loudly and sucked in her belly. Diana felt a burst of energy jolt her own abdomen, the muscles stiffening into knots.
Laughing the Sangtee moved the wand tip down. Mishka was watching with her eyes wide and tears running down her cheeks, desperately trying to suck in her stomach further, so that her belly was a steep inward curve and her sternum stood out boldly. It was useless. The metal tip found her navel again, and again the green flare washed over her.
‘GRAAAAAAAAAAAAA!’
Mishka stared wide eyes at the roof as the pain surged through her, and Diana felt like a red hot poker had been thrust into her belly button. She shuddered, pulling her fingers from their work at Mishka’s love mound to clutch at her stomach. Her sounds of pain vibrated through the wet meat of the girl’s young pussy.
Seeing the Amazon clutching at her burning abdomen, the General adjusted his whip to its wand function and stood near the groaning Tasha. The lithe female heretic was swivelling her hips to stimulate her pussy against that of the Amazon whore as her body yielded to an ancient need. With a deft movement he brought the metal rod in contact with Tasha’s left elbow, smiling as a scream gurgled from the humping Terran woman. Better still, the pain was instantly relayed to the big-breasted Amazon. Feeling her left arm flooded with agony, the slut Princess was forced to shift her right hand at her belly, slamming it down onto the floor for extra support so she could maintain physical contact with her fellow slaves.
Savage watched Diana shift her stance, supporting her raised body now using her feet and hands as she thrust her magnificent tits upwards, never ceasing the pumping and grinding of her hips as she pussy-fucked the elder hostage. With the change in her position the Princess was forced to turn so that she was leaning backwards, her head upside down as she sucked and licked tirelessly at the teenagers pulsing clit. The villain could see the long black tresses foaming down behind Wonder Woman’s head, while her firm round ass tensed rhythmically as she pleasure both torture victims. Pushed up from the floor by her powerful arms and her boot-clad legs, the Amazons body was a thing of carnal wonder, a long neck arching down towards impossibly firm breasts peaked with perfect nipples and set above a rippling vista of a midriff. The whole wonderful physique was lathered with perspiration that was half from sex, half from suffering.
Diana could feel the sweat forming between her breasts and the weight of her long black hair as she nuzzled and lapped at Miska’s juice slick quim-hole, fucking Tasha’s fiery pelvis by feel alone. She felt incredibly vulnerable. All her warrior instincts rebelled at the awareness of having her unprotected belly offered up like a piece of meat to her enemies but she knew she could not stop, must continue to debase her self for the sake of her fellow prisoners. Not matter what happened to her, Tasha and her daughter would not die miserably in this wretched cell. The pain washing over her tongue and vagina sent jolts of molten fire racing up and down her spine. The torment burned in her mind mercilessly, but she continued to fight the torture of the Starro buds with every fibre of her ravishing form.
The Noble watched the hated enemy of his race continue in her hopeless struggle, her very willingness to resist in the face of her certain defeat and offence to him. This whore must be taught, once and for all, the stupidity of pitting simpering female flesh against the power of the Sangtee.
The Noble brought the wand up and jabbed it against the inner curve of the mewling girl’s pert breast. Instantly the sweat soaked Terran slut screeched and flailed in her saddle as her tit-flesh was filled with crackling, nerve-burning power.
Between the two women, Diana too felt her bulging breast blaze with agony as the Starro at her lips conferred Mishka’s suffering to her. Her eyes scrunched even tighter as she tried to ignore the new pain adding to her personal hell.
Cursing, the Noble lifted the wand and jabbed again at the other tit, this time pushing the metal tip deep into the yielding young melon and holding it in place.
Diana felt the pain throbbing in the one breast as the second assault flared in the other like a bolt of lighting surging into her firm rounded chest. It made her mouth go wide and she buried her face between Mishka’s tapering thighs, her groan of pain filling the suffocating musky space behind the girl’s pussy lips. The pain grew and grew, and her brain filled with white fire as her tortured tit was burned from within by alien energy. It sizzled and scorched its way through her nerves in the shuddering pink hemisphere, like a swarm of savage clawed insects trying to rip outwards from the flesh of her womanly chest.
Poised next to the older woman the General watched the Amazon enduring the torture with stubborn fortitude. He doubted any soldier of his command could have shown greater courage, and the knowledge stabbed at him like a knife. Who was this pink-skinned whore to shame the efforts of the best and bravest of the Sangtee army? Growling with rage he too shifted his instrument to its wand setting and swung it down. But rather than aiming for Tasha’s sweetly rounded breasts he jabbed the tip into the diamond shaped space formed by the inward curve of her buttocks.
Tasha squealed, slamming her pelvis against Diana’s superhuman flesh with such force that she left her mons bruised. The pain transferred to Diana through the link made her do likewise, the two pussies coming together with bone-crushing energy. Tasha screamed louder as she felt her flushed and pouting sex being ground like raw meat against flesh that could withstand the impact of an 18 wheel truck, while the joints in her hips threatened to be dislocated by the strain.
Tasha’s piercing cry penetrated the haze of suffering around Diana’s mind and she pulled back, fighting against the pain burning between her savagely clenched ass cheeks. The excruciating suffering in her breast still burned without relent and now the wand at Tasha’s tailbone was making her whole lower spine light up with spasms of agony. Beneath her up-thrust form drops of sweat fell onto the steel flooring from her squirming body. Her powerful hands pressed into the metal plating with such force that it groaned softly and began to twist and bulge about her clawing fingers, while the muscles of her incredible abdomen rippled beneath the taught skin.
Contemptuously the two Sangtee used their pain-wands to sadistically torment to the pair of already suffering women, smiling at the gagged screams and choked weeping as they jabbed the prisoners trembling bodies over and over. Diana felt every hissing stab of suffering in her own battered flesh. Her midsection blazed with fire as the General stabbed his instrument into Tasha’s midsection, and her thighs screamed and spasmed as the Noble beat young Mishka’s with the metal rod. Ever and again she felt the pain rip through the flesh of her curvaceous chest, shredding the nerves clustered within to bloody ribbons.
At one point, both vile captors stuck their wands deep into the mother and daughters right nipples, and Diana felt the double agony tearing at her own tit-peak. She was sure the quivering nubbin must burst into flame, or explode from her anguished teat while she shuddered and heaved betwixt the screeching auburn haired duo. It was like some demon had pierced Diana’s with red hot hooks and ripped the round nubbins from her shrieking breasts.
The tortured women were nearing exhaustion, and still the Starro kept its hideous grip on their intimate flesh. Diana’s own body was shivering with the pain being inflicted upon it, and she knew that only the terrible stimulation of the neural jolts had prevented Tasha and her daughter from lapsing into shock or unconsciousness. If it were not for her taking the agony of the Starro creatures into herself, both women would no doubt have died in agony long ago. As she felt her strength flagging Diana knew she must act now, whatever the cost to herself.
Oh Strong Athena, she prayed silently, grant your daughter your courage. Oh tender Aphrodite, lend me your secret skills.
The Princess felt her resolve harden, her quaking arms and legs steady themselves. Pallas Athena was goddess of wisdom as well as strength in battle, and at her birth had granted the Diana with the gift of insight. That wisdom suddenly blazed in the young heroine’s mind. The Sangtee did not believe they could be defeated by a woman, but she had proven them wrong. This torture was made to break not her flesh, but her spirit. In a flash she understood that shame was their weapon here, yoked to her warrior pride so as to blunt the force of her will. Diana looked past it. These things were not her design, but things done to her and the women with her. It didn’t matter what happened to her, what humiliation she endured. She needed only to set her sights on saving those she loved from death.
In the same moment Athena had bestowed her wisdom, beauteous Aphrodite had granted her the loving heart that was her gift. Diana called on that gift now. Sundering the shackles of her pride she reached up, grasping Mishka about the legs and plunging her tongue into her deepest being.
‘OOOOOOO.’ The girls moan was loud even through the gag, and her eyes went wide. She could feel the Amazons fluttering tongue like a current racing through her pussy, making it tingle. A wave of pure bliss washed over her, pushing back the pain of the torture as she stiffened with desire. On the other side of the trio Tasha also gasped as she felt Diana’s clit rubbing against he own, their pink lips pressed in a kiss more sensual and intimate than she had ever known. Warmth flooded her belly, filling it with a roiling pleasure that built towards ecstasy.
The Sangtee sensed the change instantly and scowled. ‘Now we see you for the whore you are, Amazon,’ the Noble growled. ‘Eat this little slut’s pussy while we fry her tight little dugs. Make her scream for us while you lick at her cunt!’
Having said it the Sangtee thrust the pain rod into Mishka’s trembling young tit, the jolt arcing across her chest in a rain of green sparks. Diana winced inwardly as the pain travelled to her own chest, but Mishka only gave a brief whimper. Then again she moaned in undisguised pleasure as Diana’s tongue blessed her swollen clitoris with more of its artful swirling, twisting the alien-covered bud to make its owner wriggle with sexual fervour.
The Noble looked on in disgust at the young girl’s lack of suffering, and the General grunted in surprise. ‘Let us see the mother ignore this,’ he spat. Without preamble, he adjusted the power on his rod up a setting and jammed the sparking tip against Tasha’s sphincter.
Diana arched her form as she experienced the awful crackling pain roasting the tender ring of her anus, shooting up her spine like a million stinging scorpions, but she did not relent. Her wet cleft was sucking and laving Tasha’s own sweet sex without pause, pushing the former cosmonaut deeper into a rich, overpowering carnal rapture. Tasha was awash with the feeling of female euphoria that overpowered the pain being inflicted on her. It left her unable to think, unable to do anything but feel the wonderful liquid pleasure between her spread legs.
Beside the fucking women both purple skinned aliens ground their teeth with frustration as their victims whimpered not in misery but a happiness that was becoming almost too much to bear. Mother and daughter both quivered and trembled as they felt their bodies awash with such love and passion as they had never experienced. It left them gasping, breathless. They strained in their bondage to be nearer to the woman worshipping their sexual being with her own luscious form.
The Sangtee faces were masks of hatred as they watched the women ignoring their rightful suffering. ‘Damn you,’ the Noble snarled at Diana, watching her fuck the other without shame or regret. ‘You will bow down and beg at our feet, whore!’
Stepping closer to her the slender alien reached back and stabbed the pain wand into her abdomen in a shower of green sparks.
For Diana the sensation was as if burning coals had suddenly appeared inside her body. She heaved up again, her arms and legs trembling as the muscles spasmed, and she groaned deep into the younger Russian’s now sopping wet pussy. She paused only for a moment at her sucking of the girls clitoris, pressing the bud hard between her full lips and rolling it with the tip of her tongue, pulling it into her mouth. Below her navel she used the rictus in her legs to rub Tasha’s cunt wantonly, the muscles spasms making her trimmed pussy quiver against the cosmonaut. The proud mother shook her head wildly, humping against the Amazon’s flushed sex-mound.
‘Foul harlot,’ the General barked, then looked up at his superior. ‘The bold slut is using her pain to fuck them.’
‘I can see that,’ snapped the Noble, adjusting the setting on his neural wand. His mouth turned downward in an expression of pure hatred. ‘If she is such a sluttish creature, then let us help her to fuck them well.’
Diana was aware of the words, and braced herself for the onslaught. Twelve strokes of the neural lash were supposed to be enough to destroy the mind of any victim, and how many had she endured already. The weapons’ setting had been locked so they did not increase in agony with every assault, but even so the writhing Princess knew that she could endure such torment endlessly – sooner or later even she would reach the limit of what her wondrous body could withstand. Did the pain that had flowed into her from Tasha and Mishka count, not to mention the agony still firing her tongue and her sexual organs from the Starro’s. How much could even her gods-granted strength endure?
All these thoughts raced through her mind in a flash before they were crowded out by the only thing that really mattered. Saving the two women either side of her. Her splendid body shook on the verge of collapse, but she never wavered. If she had to die in ultimate pain to save her friend and her daughter, so be it.
The first wand jabbed into her belly again, and once more her abdomen was full of stinging scorpions hell-fire in their poison, making her stretch til her spine was cracking. The second pushed deep into her inner thigh, and sent wave after wave of blistering fire racing along the nerves. Her legs strained in knots of agony as her pussy frictioned desperately against the red-trimmed twat of her old lover.
They hurt her everywhere, from the nape of her neck to the calves curving down into her high red and white boots. Her belly, her legs, her tits, even the swell of her desperately humping sex were made to endure the energy of the wands tearing at her being, ripping her to pieces from within. Her whole body was in an ague of pain, and Diana knew that her torturers had deactivated the hold setting on their tools, meaning that each jolt would be more and more terrible.
Unable to dissuade the black haired heroine from her task, the Sangtee switched their torture devices back to their whip mode. With an outraged snarl both aliens brought their whips down across Diana’s tits.
Outside the field Savage watched with rapt attention as the whips crisscrossed the most perfect breasts in the world, flaying them with green fire. The red-haired bitches at either end of Wonder Woman moaned like the most wanton whores as Diana used all her sexual prowess on them while she suffered the agonies of hell. All six feet of her beautiful form gleamed like wet bronze as she wriggled her hips and tongue against the copper-tressed cunts of the Russians. The groans of ecstasy from each as they sat with their heads cast back and their tits heaving with passion would have been enough to harden the cock of a eunuch. After four blows to her trembling chest even Diana’s muffled screams could be hear from the slick folds of the younger captives pussy, and Diana reached up to rap her arms about the girls waist, pulling herself up to Miska’s hot sex and using the leverage to smear herself even more tightly against the girls mother.
As Savage looked on the cosmonauts head come up, her eyes half closed as she watched the Amazons pussy fucking her between their interlaced legs. She seemed completely unaware of the men whipping her lover to death, or of her own offspring quivering and jerking in her bondage while her cunt was licked, nibbled and sucked to the peaks of delight. It was as if the Princess had cast some kind of sexual spell over both her companions, making them incapable to recognize anything except the seething ball of coital fire building explosively in their womanhood.
Her body torn relentlessly by the alien whips, Diana knew she did not have long to survive. Her tongue felt swollen in her mouth and her clitoris was ready to explode into flames. The lashing of her proudly up-thrust breasts felt like the skin was being peeled from those incredible mounds in ragged, bloody strips. The pain from the neural shocks was making her heart spasm in her chest. That pumping organ hammered against her ribs in fits and starts, threatening to seize up and burst at any moment.
Through the connection she had forged with the skills of Aphrodite she knew that the two women with her were close to letting go, to experiencing the climax that would release them from the personal hell of the Starro born anguish. But even as she pushed them towards that glorious release Diana’s own vitality was failing. The diminishing returns of her fervour were barely enough to keep Tasha and Mishka at the precipice. Any moment her efforts would falter and they would slip back, her weariness condemning them all to a horrific death.
There was only one way to endure the horror being inflicted on her body, and Diana was loathe to do it. It meant going against everything she believed in, everything that the Amazon nation stood for. But if she did not, in moment all three captives would be dead. Diana could make that choice for herself, but not for her companions.
Again she focused her mind inwards, pushing aside the terrible pain coursing through her and concentrating her thoughts on the golden haired Aphrodite, goddess of love in all its forms, including the purely physical. The living embodiment of sexuality, Aphrodite was skilled in the arts of physical pleasure, both of giving it and finding it. Now Diana needed to call on the one aspect of that great understanding that she had thought never to explore. Finding pleasure…in receiving pain!
Every part of her soul rebelled from the idea, but Diana knew that there were people, women and men, who derived sexual pleasure from physical suffering. It was not the Amazon way to descry any belief or philosophy out of hand, but given their past experience at the hands of Heracles and his lust-crazed soldiers, the women of Themyscria were predictably appalled at such a practice. Diana knew that her sisters would never understand. At best she would be looked upon by them as a pariah, but for the sake of Tasha and Mishka she had no choice.
The Princess let Aphrodite’s awareness hum through her again. She felt the glow of the goddess’ power in the trembling bodies of the Russian women as the pleasure in their sex-clefts protected them from the pain that would have overwhelmed and destroyed them. Now Diana also directed that energy inwards on her own being, feeling the tingle in her flesh. Aphrodite taught that true pleasure began within, and Amazons learned that their first sexual partner should always be themselves. Diana understood the intimacies of her body as well as any women of her race. Now she employed that understanding as the whips flailed against her over and over.
All this happened in the blink of an eye. One moment she felt herself paused over the abyss, ready to be cast down. Then the whip struck again with a terrible crackling hiss and…
Diana gasped. As the alien fire tore at the nerves of her battered mammary she experienced a surge of pleasure rivalling any she had known. Guilt tried to deny it, but the black haired beauty groaned with desire as her entire body lit up with pain.
This time the Sangtee were not immediately aware of the change, but watching intently Savage picked up the shift almost at once. Diana’s body still shuddered violently under the abuse, but now those movements were subtly altered, the shifting of that marvellous expanse of female flesh almost seeming to deliberately entice punishment. The green sparks of pain skittered across her beaten form and it spasmed and twisted, but now rather than retreating it seemed to lift itself up to meet the strokes of the lash, straining to let the whip strike it even a split second sooner, a fraction harder. Wonder Woman’s body was so tense her flayed hide was as taught as a drum, stretching itself to make it as sensitive as possible to every agony-filled stroke of the whips.
The Sangtee flailed away with their neural lashes, striking in a frenzy of hatred and cruelty. Blow after blow landed on that magnificent arched form, enough to kill any being twice over. The black haired woman before them should have been reduced to a quivering, mindless thing, her nervous system utterly destroyed by the energy blazing through it, but she endured. Her whole body was covered in red stripes from her neck to her knees, every glorious inch torn by suffering no human could survive.
Beneath the lash Diana felt as if she would burst apart. Her skin was aflame with pain but also with passion – hot, wild, savage wantonness that could not be contained. Not since she had surrendered herself to Pan’s chaos to best the Joker had she known such unbridled sensation, but this went far beyond that. She felt every stroke across her midriff and thighs and swollen tits, the pain glorious. The lash bit at her navel, slicing at her firm Amazon nipples so that her head was filled with green fire, making her skull feel like it would split apart even as her sex tensed and throbbed with enjoyment. Some small part of her cried out in despair but she ignored it as she knew she must. Let herself for one second resist the dark desire filling her and the torture would kill both her and her friends. This was the only way, to hurl herself headlong into the jaws of agony and willingly find ecstasy. To enjoy the pain, and as a woman surrender ultimately to its power to make her…make her….
With a sudden wrenching groan Diana’s whole body arched like a bow, jerking fitfully. Her cry echoed in the moist centre of Mishka’s womanly recess as Diana’s hand left her waist and darted up to the girls swollen clit, rubbing it in time with her furiously working tongue. Mishka cried out too, pressing her cunt down onto the super-heroine’s face to let her tongue delve deeply into her. On the other side of the platform, Tasha gasped and grunted loudly as she felt Diana’s vagina tighten and clench, the action pulling at her own pussy lips and sending the mother over the edge of passion. She leaned forward, the sounds of climax torn from her as she and Diana pussy fucked each other to orgasm.
‘Impossible!’ shrieked the Sangtee Noble. ‘You cannot do this,’ he shouted at Diana’s twisting body between the two red-heads. ‘You are supposed to die. Die damn you, DIE!’ He and the General laid on again with the whips, battering Diana’s reddened flesh until green lightning played over her tits and body, snapping and hissing as it burned its way into her.
Diana was beyond them, in the throws of sexual rapture. She came hard, grunting into Mishka’s juice slick pussy, and even before her first climax had ebbed the pain flaring like a million venomous stings across her wounded skin made her cum again, one orgasm on top of the other so she felt like the heat of a furnace was radiating out through her body. Deep in Aphrodite’s gift with the Princess, the two women wailed and gasped in ultimate pleasure, mother and daughter brought to a howling peak of sexual joy. The three of them made a tableau to the gods of sex, crying out and moving together in the essence of their womanhood. Three long pairs of legs stretched, , three sets of breasts heaved and quivered, and three red mouths opened to let out cries of raw passion. All this made all the more stirring by the two aliens brutally beating the six foot hero-goddess bringing them all three beautiful women their grunting, gasping, sweating release.
In the midst of her thundering ecstasy, Diana felt the Starro buds let go from each girls’ clitoris, their pain finally defeated by pleasure.Instantly her blue eyelids, closed tight with stars exploding behind her long lashes, snapped wide.
The Sangtee raised their hands for another flurry of blows, determined to end the life of this female abomination once and for all. Before they could move they each felt a hand that twist steel close about their throats.
Freed of the Starro’s connection to the two still groaning women, Diana rose up, lifting both aliens clear of the ground. Her body was covered in sweat and glowing welts, and her loins and mouth were stained with sex. But all the aliens noticed were her eyes. They burned like blue fire, righteous fury blazing in her gaze. There was no mercy there at all.
The General tried to reach for his gauntlet to activate some weapon, but Diana moved faster than could be seen, dropping the Noble and using her free hand to grasp the bigger Sangtee’s armoured glove and tear it off in a shower of metal shards. Seeing the Noble scuttling for the safety of the force field she hurled the burly alien in her grasp against the wall with such force that he sank to the ground leaving a dark blue smear from his broken skull on the stonework. Diana paused for half a heartbeat, then pounced as her target reached the energy barrier.
As she had hoped, something in his armour disrupted the field and allowed him to pass through. As he did she plunged through with him, the energy barrier crackling across her skin like she was being rubbed by nails but allowing her to pass.
A quick move slammed the man’s face into the stone, knocking him senseless, and then Diana rose like a effigy of wrath to face the waiting Vandal Savage.
Close to collapse, the almost naked heroine knew she had only one chance before the ancient villain sounded the alarm and she lost her chance to free the hostage Amazons. Her black hair hung in dishevelled ringlets over her lovely features, and behind those dark tresses her blue eyes flashed like lightning amid storm clouds. ‘Your turn, monster,’ she spat, all her remaining gods given strength and speed going into the desperate lunge at the bearded mastermind.
She was a foot from him, fingers reaching out for the throat beneath that smirking bearded visage, a red haze beginning to creep across her sight.
Then something in her belly exploded.
She did not even remember hitting the ground. She must have been brought up short in mid leap. Savage’s immaculate leather shoes were before her, while her breasts were pillowed against the stone floor as she tried to push herself up. She could hear his cultured voice drifting down as if from some great height.
‘A worthy effort, Princess, but a wasted one. Thank you for your assistance today. You may be assured it will prove invaluable.’
She tried to drag herself up but sensation hot and wild crashed over her. Diana cried out, clutching between her legs as a nova erupted there, its power roaring through her until her mind could endure no more. With a final cry, she tumbled headlong into a blinding whiteness.
Interlude
‘Get yer rest while yer able, little
girls,’ Mammoth said, smiling behind is shaggy brown beard. ‘We got plans fer ya, and yer gonna
need all yer strength!’
Starfire
glared from behind the transparent barrier, knowing already that her starbolts could not penetrate it. At least not quickly enough
for her to prevent the scum on the other side from killing their Amazon
hostages. Her armour had been returned to her, and the combination of
the purple ray and the solar energy pumped into her had healed her wounds.
‘Come in
here and tell me your plans, you G’lak RuHut,’ the golden skinned alien spat, reverting to her
native Tamaranean in her anger. She looked at the hulking 9 foot tall Mammoth
with utter contempt. ‘I’ll show you how much strength I still have.’
‘Oh she
is feisty,’ observed the man next to the Fearsome Five member. He was of normal
stature, wearing a red costume with a black mask that covered his head down to
his nose. He held up his hands and small bolts of lighting crackled between his
palms. ‘I don’t know who I want to get
my hands on first,’ he sneered. ‘Although maybe Ms Troy over there could use some shock therapy to
help her get over her trauma.’
‘Good
one, Electrocutioner,’ Mammoth guffawed, sounding
like a snorting buffalo.
Starfire
instinctively moved to be between the two villains and where Donna sat in the
corner, head down on her knees. Unlike
Starfire’s costume there had been little to salvage of hers, but they had taken
the red scraps that had been tossed in along with Starfire’s clothing and used
it to fashion a crude bikini. Even with
her high black boots it revealed far more than it hid, but it was something.
‘We’ll
be back later girls,’ Electrocutioner promised. ‘Consider yourselves lucky. You meta-whores at least get to rest between
sessions. Those Amazon bitches though…’
At the
mention of her Amazon sisters Donna’s head came up, her blue eyes full of fear.
‘What do you mean,’ she said, her voice hoarse.
In reply
the two only laughed louder. They turned and left the cell block, leaving the
two heroines with only the security cameras for company.
Starfire
turned and came to sit next to Donna, putting her arm around her. ‘Oh Kori,’
the dark haired girl whispered, ‘what are they doing to them. What are they doing to Diana.’
Koriand’r
made no reply, just stroked her companion hair. She noticed how Donna sat
wither legs clenched tightly together and remembered how she had felt the first
time she had been raped – gutted both physically and emotionally. She knew that
Donna’s need to have clothes on was less to do with modesty than a sense of
security, that she still had some control over her own body.
‘They
will be alright, Donna, I promise you.
We all will be.’ Donna said
nothing, just pushed her head between Kori’s neck and shoulder and buried her
face in the alien’s tawny mane. Starfire let her hands go round the Amazon’s
athletic frame and held her, feeling her trembling. We will be alright, she repeated silently, and these men will die choking on their own blood.
***
In front
of her computer screen, Barbara worked feverishly, trying one way after another
to hack the Amazons security systems. Any other time she might have actually
enjoyed this challenge, but all she could think about was the sight and sounds
of Dinah and Helena in the chamber of horrors. Naked, helpless, screaming…
For the
hundredth time she forced the image from her mind. Only part of her
considerable resources were directed towards the Amazon security. The rest was involved in finding out more
about their captors own security measures. For any other person it would have
been virtually impossible to make it look like they were hacking one system
while actually probing another right under the users nose – but virtually was
were Barbara Gordon was at her best.
And
there was something else. A feeling in the back of the red-heads razor sharp mind. As Oracle Barbara had needed to analyse
information in life and death situations constantly, and now every instinct was
telling her that something here wasn’t quite right.
All she
needed was time. She steeled herself and prayed no more suffering was needed to
buy it for her.
***
Black
Canary woke to find herself hanging by cuffs about her
wrists. She was in a stone chamber about
20 feet square, the roof where the chains for the cuffs were bolted about three
feet above her yellow-tressed head. Her
toes barely touched the floor and were fixed there by more cuffs and chains
that kept her legs spread a foot apart.
Between
her athletic thighs, she could feel her womanhood throbbing with pain.
Dinah
groaned and was instantly aware of the ball gag in her mouth. Her tongue felt
dry and swollen, and her jaw ached. From
the pain of her jaw and in her shoulders she surmised she had been hanging for
an hour a least. The blonde heroine
wiggled her fingers to help restore circulation, and did the same with toes
inside her black boots, the only part of her costume left to her. She was cold,
and shivered a little. She could feel the nipples standing erect on her full breasts
as they were lifted by her suspension.
Apart
from herself there was no-one in the chamber.
There was no clue as to where the Huntress was or what might be
happening to her. Dinah’s last memory
was the swelling explosion in her sex and then something slamming into her
face. She guessed what
Dinah
fought down her urge to scream and struggle.
These monsters had violated her and Helena as women and as human
beings. The memory and the lingering
pain, coupled with the lewd gratification of hanging her naked and vulnerable
like this, made the crime-fighter seethe with anger. But the most horrible thing of all was that
for now, there was simply nothing she could do about any of it.
***
In their
booth the two figures controlling the unfolding drama observed their captives
and collaborated on their next course of action.
‘Barbara
Gordon is making slow progress,’ said one.
‘Of
course,’ replied the other. ‘But there is some kind of connection between her
and Canary and Huntress, and I intend to be certain of what it is.’
‘Perhaps
we should allow her to watch some more of those two enjoying our hospitality.’
The
other chuckled. ‘Perhaps
later. We have other needs for
the Huntress presently. Are the other heroines still secure?’
The
screen on the wall lit up with individual framed showing the other captured
female heroes. Starfire, Canary, Donna
Troy, Huntress, even the blonde Powergirl – the
screen gave a view that confirmed their incapacitation.
‘Good.
How is the next step proceeding?’
The wall
viewer in front of the pair flickered and changed, showing a large rectangular
room with dozens of high-tech medical beds.
Strapped down onto each one was a Themyscrian
Amazon, their arms pulled up so their hands lay nest to their heads and their
long legs spread in a set of low stirrups that forced those smooth limbs apart.
The tall and beautiful women, an exotic mixture of races and colours, glared
about them. Jump-suited workers used various instruments to remove the clothing
from their magnificent bodies, while other used thick bands to gag them as they
struggled and spat ancient curses.
‘I would
have to say very well,’ the first speaker replied, and both laughed, preparing
for the upcoming fun.
***
And
in a cell, incapacitated by massive chains that even she could not sunder,
Diana of Themyscria, the heroine known and Wonder Woman, kneeled under the
weight of her bonds.
Hands cuffed to the yoke about her neck, her black mane of hair fell in tumbled
curls about her head and shoulders. Diana’s
body was battered by the torment she had endured, her nude form tantalizingly
revealed through gaps in the huge chain links. Behind her long lashes her eyes
were closed as she drifted through a montage of nightmares.
The
greatest of which was the premonition that what she woke to would be even
worse.
Hell in
Volume 3
Part 1
Diana
Diana looked down at Savage from a heavy metal frame in the centre of a large concrete room. White electric light gave it a harsh cold feel. The frame was angled to that it leaned outwards at the top, the thick silver bands around her wrists and ankles and across her midriff keeping the Princess from falling forward. Her hair hung down about her face as she fixed the villain with a cold glare.
Savage stood before her, still in his expensive suit, and smiling up at the dark haired beauty bound naked before him. He had decided to dispense with any clothing for the next part of Wonder Woman’s experience, and was currently very much enjoying the way that gravity and the lean on the platform conspired to highlight the spectacular breasts on the super-heroine prisoner. That he could see the clear contempt in her eyes only enhanced his viewing.
‘Your companions, the Cosmonaut and her daughter, are safe,’ Savage said without preamble. ‘The Sangtee will recover but are currently in no state to be a threat to them.’
Diana made no reply. Inwardly she was relieved at the information, but not much. Tasha and Mishka were still prisoners, and Savage’s word was worth next to nothing to her. After passing out she had awoken expecting to find herself back in the pacifier torture machine, but her current bondage was no less ominous. She was tired and her body hurt.
‘I could always guarantee their safety in return for your full cooperation,’ Savage offered.
Diana thought for a moment; then she spoke. ‘Agreed. Release me and I’ll do whatever you say.’
Savage narrowed his eyes. ‘Why Wonder Woman, you wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?’
‘That would be wrong,’ the captive replied, totally deadpan.
Savage sniffed and smiled again. ‘Far from finished, I see. Well, so much the better. I was going to use this little toy on you anyway, but like so much we have planned for you, it will be more fun with you unbroken.’
As he spoke, openings slid back in the metal on either side of Diana’s head level with her temples. Two curved metal strips moved out and came together in the middle to form a semicircle that hovered about the top of her head. Coming over Savage took from behind his back a replica of her confiscated tiara, alike to the real think in all respects except for the circuitry visible on the inside of the band, which was also studded with wicked looking hi-tech barbs, each about an inch long around the front of the gold metal curve. The villain set the tiara copy on the inside the band hovering about Diana’s head and stepped back.
Savage pulled out some sort of device about the size and appearance of a television remote and pressed a button. The metal headband moved back to tighten over Diana’s forehead, forcing the tiara down with it. She felt the half-dozen needles or drills in the fake tiara pressing into her flesh, then piercing her skull. A little blood leaked down over her face and she could feel the slivers being pushed through the bone, the grinding in her head horrifying. She closed her eyes tight as the invading shards burrowed past the skull and into her brain, but somehow forced herself not to scream in pain.
Somewhere in the room a voice was speaking as the pain in her head eased from blinding explosive agony to a steady jackhammer pounding. ‘We are ready to begin the next stage, Wonder Woman. We have information about several incidents in the past when you were captured, but for this test we are allowing Vandal some creative license in the scenario.’
Savage smiled slightly and looked up at this captive. ‘I have been waiting quite some time for this,’ he said quietly, then pressed another button on the remote.
Diana felt her brain burning inside her skull and heard herself give a choked scream. Her head snapped back and slammed powerfully against the metal behind her as she stiffened in her bonds.
Gradually the pain faded. Wonder Woman opened her eyes.
The room about her was unchanged, but she herself was now clothed in a variation of her own figure hugging uniform. This one, however, sported a stylized eagle across her swelling chest. She felt her tiara in place once more. Her hands now felt wood rather than metal under them, and the ultra dense metal bands had been replaced by thick leather straps across her midriff, wrists and ankles. This platform was angled back, supporting her weight at about sixty degrees. She heaved at the bindings keeping on the platform but was unable to break them.
‘You will find your Amazon strength has quite deserted you, Highness,’ Savage voice announced, and turning towards him Diana got another surprise. Savage was now dressed in the starched black uniform of a German S.S. officer, complete with vizored hat and red swastika armband. Apart from the pallet she was strapped to the only thing the Amazon superhero could see for furnishings was a door and a metal box like a power board bolted to the wall, and adorned with a variety of dials and switches.
‘I knew your mother during the war,’ Savage said, and Diana knew he was referring to World War II. Some time ago her mother Queen Hippolyta had travelled back in time and taken up her daughter’s mantle as Wonder Woman in the fight against the Axis powers. ‘She was a remarable specimen. Like all her heroic ilk she was captured on several occasions, but she always managed to escape before we could find ourselves in a scene such as this one.’
Savage came closer, putting a leather-gloved hand on Diana’s leg and stroking her thigh as he looked over her bound form. ‘I’m sure you can imagine that the Nazi regime was very unhappy with having their plans thwarted time and again by a,’ he held up his hands to mimic quote marks, ‘…mere woman. The Fuhrer had teams of his best men coming up with a variety of truly diabolical punishments for the time when she would finally be at their mercy. Sometimes they would even have captured woman dressed in a version of her uniform and tortured to death for Hitler’s amusement.’
Diana glared savagely at the uniformed villain standing in front of her and calmly discussing the horrific murder of innocent women simply to vent frustrated feelings of revenge against her mother. Her hands worked into fists.
‘At any rate, now that you are here we will be able to test some of those ideas first-hand. First though, we must attend to another little fantasy of young Adolph; and of very other heterosexual male not on life-support.’
Savage stepped forward and began tugging off his right glove. When it was free he tucked it into her black leather belt and then reached out, pressing the flat of his hand against the star spangled briefs covering Diana’s groin. She flinched instinctively, and he grinned and began to rub her gently.
‘Get your hand off me, Savage!’ the raven haired beauty hissed.
For a reply, Savage merely continued his ministrations, rubbing the soft slight mound between the long legs slowly and methodically, then using one finger to find the slight indentation between the folds of flesh hidden inside the captive’s tights. He pressed more forcefully, pushing the material of Diana’s pants down into the groove so that it could be plainly down the centre of her crotch.
She stared down, understanding and contempt on her lovely face. ‘Enjoy you sick little fantasy, you vile freak.’
‘If you insist,’ said Savage. ‘But I don’t intend to hoard all the pleasure for myself.’
On cue the door to the room opened and a women in the brown shirt of a Nazi part member stepped through. She wore a tight black skirt that came down to her shapely calves with bodied hugging brown shirt and a black tie. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun. She was attractive, with large blue eyes and full lips, but stern. In her hands she carried a metal tray. As she stepped up beside Savage Diana could see it had on it a container like a pill bottle and a gleaming silver scalpel.
Savage took up the metal blade and held it so the light glinted off the razor sharp steel. Then he moved it over to Diana’s crotch while his free hand again reached out to cup her soft pubic mound under the fabric.
Diana forced herself to breathe normally as the evil man tweaked at her intimate flesh, then pulled at the material of her pants, stretching it up as he manoeuvred the scalpel into position.
With a deft and practiced hand the villain made a y shaped incision in the heroines briefs, sawing slowly and carefully. When he was done he used his hands to peel back the blue and white-starred garment to reveal pouting female lips beneath.
Savage stood admiring the intimate entrance for a few seconds, then placed the scalpel back on the tray and picked up the tweezers. The German woman moved one hand to open the pill bottle and Savage reached inside with the tweezers, taking out something that looked at first like a purplish sea mussel. Diana had had enough recent, close-up experience to identify it instantly – a Starro bud.
‘You recognize this of course,’ Savage said. ‘As before, this has been specially programmed with yourself in mind. Perhaps you were lucid enough to recall its effects just before you passed out in front of me.’
Diana grimaced as the memory came rushing back – reaching for Savage’s throat only feet away when her world had exploded as a detonation of feeling went off between her legs. Only in that second had she realized that the Starro creature clamped to Tasha’s clitoris had migrated during the sexing, bonding itself to her own love button as the two of them were lost in the throes of orgasm. And the sensation that had overwhelmed her as she threw herself at Savage had been…
Diana blinked in sick recognition.
Savage saw the look and smiled his sophisticated smile. ‘Yes Princess. Thanks to all your hard work with the Russian and her daughter these miniature Starro’s now have an unprecedented understanding of how to stimulate the female sex organs. Not only for pain, but for pleasure as well. Such pleasure as only a woman skilled in the Amazon arts could accomplish.’
Diana was aghast. In saving Tasha and Mishka she had made Aphrodite’s blessing into a weapon for her enemies. The sheer blasphemy of it was monstrous.
Savage meanwhile had moved the pulsing little alien creature to hover just over Diana’s exposed womanly flesh. With a lustful gleam in his eyes he used his fingers to gently pry apart the outer lips of the Amazon’s bared sex.
Diana took a quick breath, her outrage growing. Never before had a man touched her most sacred space, let alone in violation of her wishes. She felt like screaming obscenities at him but she restrained herself, telling herself this and all other outrages would be paid for.
Using the tweezers Savage eased the purple starfish creature into the moist, pink cavity revealed by his fingers. The Amazons musky scent rose to meet him as he thumbed the top meeting of her nether lips, pulling back the petals to find the small pink hood of flesh. Pursing his lips he blew on it gently, enjoying the muffled grunt of disgust from his captive and seeing the tight Amazon pussy quiver as the heroines carnal bud swelled a little at the stimulation.
Wasting no time, Savage lowered his head over Diana’s pussy and let his tongue caress her clitoris.
Diana kept her eyes riveted ahead of her, her face stone mask. But inside she was screaming. He was licking her pussy, actually pushing his tongue inside her womanhood against her will. She felt sick, violated in the most personal way possible. She could feel his tongue playing with her clit and his beard tickling at the pink lips of her pussy. The knowledge that he now knew the taste of her womanly essence made her clench her fists with rage.
Savage sucked her bud between his lips then let go, looking at the glistening pink button waiting for further attention. Using the tweezers he place the Starro creature between the folds of pink, then pressed it against the clitoral hood. Instinctively the five arms on the alien gripped the woman’s flesh, pressing the body down hard against the puckering clitoris.
Diana gasped and stiffened as she felt the bud link with her nervous system, a cold flame suddenly blazing between her legs. She felt as if her body had lit up from within, white light coursing along her nerves, drowning her in physical sensation that was so intense it was painful.
Slowly she exerted her will, fighting to overcome the rampant sensation flooding in through her clitoris and racing through her trembling form. Tears welled in her blue eyes from the effort it took just to prevent herself from screaming as the tide of vile pleasure washed over her. Diana did not believe that if she allowed herself to start giving voice to the sensations, she would ever be able to stop.
Savage watched the inner battle raging as reflected in her bodily responses – the look of furrowed concentration, the set jaw, the hands at he side clenching and opening in unison. Wonder Woman thigh muscles were desperately taught. Her ass was tight, stomach sucked powerfully so those amazing abs were on display. Quick deep breaths made perfect tits jump and shudder, and he observed with wantonness the swollen erection of those breasts’ round nipple-buds.
‘I must go and prepare now Diana,’ Savage said. Diana did not even turn her eyes towards him. She was totally preoccupied with resisting the Starro buds influence. ‘But don’t worry; Frau Liebling here will make sure you don’t feel neglected.’
Savage clicked his heels and walked off out of sight, though Diana could not be sure he had left the room. In his place the female officer stepped forward, her grey eyes watching the captives predicament with amused interest.
‘You have attracted much admiration among some of my peers,’ the German said, and Diana glanced down at her. There was a beauty about her face and body, but it was cold, un-tempered by compassion. She had high cheek bones that gave her face a cruel quality. Her body was lean, the tight black skirt accentuating the curve of her hips while the shirt was pulled tight across her nicely proportionate bust. As she spoke she came to stand in front of the Amazon, hands resting on the platform either side of her legs.
‘Not for your pathetic support of the Americans, of course. But you have shown that the female can be a deadly opponent, and not to be underestimated. You will be executed for that, of course, but perhaps in time the lessons of your resistance will not be wholly wasted on the clods in High Command.’
‘If,’ Diana whispered, pausing as she continued fighting the alien. The space between her long legs was throbbing non-stop. ‘If you…feel like that…free me…help me fight these men…’
The German smiled and shook her head slowly. ‘No, my dear. You are still the enemy. The Fuhrer has demanded your death, and my treachery would hardly help the cause of Aryan womanhood. Also,’ and here her hands moved to caress Diana’s smooth thighs, roaming up and down slowly, ‘I must admit a very personal interest in seeing how long you can resist our torturers.’ Diana exhaled sharply, the Starro turning the woman’s sinister touch into something that made her womb quiver. ‘You are very beautiful, and I have worked with Herr Savage long enough to appreciate such beauty in a woman.’ She smiled more wickedly. ‘And, in the destruction of that beauty.’
‘Then your heart is a cold poison,’ Diana whispered, anger flooding her that any woman could so betray her sisters.
‘Yes,’ the German whispered huskily, her lips near Diana’s pouting nethers. ‘But the rest of me is warm.’
She blew gently as Savage had, the breeze from her full mouth wafting over the Amazon’s puckered sex and caressing the alien wrapped bud of her clit. Diana stifled a sob of pleasure as the hated parasite sent sensations racing along her nerves, her body lighting up from within. She set her teeth and fought down the urge to lift her pelvis towards that bright red Nazi mouth.
The blonde smiled, looking up at where Diana’s eyes were watching her teasing her black trimmed womanhood. ‘Such bravery,’ she said. ‘Such courage. Surely before she descends into hell, our brave heroine deserves a kiss.’
She leaned closer, and Diana pulled back as far as the wooden platform permitted. There was no escape – the bands kept her legs spread. She watched with hands clenched in fists as the woman’s curved mouth brushed her pussy, kissing gently, worrying the heroines sex with her wonderfully soft warm lips.
‘Enough,’ came Savage’s voice, and the woman stood up and used a finger to gently wipe the shining fluid from about her mouth.
Diana sighed in relief, but that feeling soon dissolved as she saw Savage standing naked to the waist near a small rolling trolley that carried what was clearly an power unit. Savage still wore his jack boots and black trousers, his waist and well muscled abdomen disappearing into the thick black belt with its silver Reich Eagle buckle. He stood before Diana completely at ease, but there was an eagerness smouldering in his ancient eyes.
A thick electrical cord had been used to attach the box on the trolley to the unit on the wall, while three set of wires were attached to metal bolts along the top. There was a dial and a needle power meter, and a switch.
“Stop this filth" she replied as she felt his hand on her. He ignored her. ‘Get your hand off me, Savage!’ the raven-haired beauty hissed. For an answer Savage merely continued his ministrations, rubbing the soft slight mound between the long legs slowly and methodically, then using one finger to find the slight indentation between the folds of flesh hidden inside the captive’s tights. He pressed more forcefully, pushing the material of Diana’s pants down into the groove so that it could be plainly down the centre of her crotch.
She stared down, understanding and contempt on her lovely face. ‘Enjoy you sick little fantasy, you vile freak.’
"Oh you can sure we do it " he said.
‘And now for the audience; to motivate my soldiers and to help you suffer, Amazon," he said to her with a smile.
More soldiers entered, their eyes roving over her incredible body. Each was thinking the same; how lucky there were, how blessed to have this duty. She stared at them scornfully, contemptuously, her pride obvious on her lovely face. Every muscle was tensed and ready, a captured lioness ready for their sport.
Diana recognized that she they saw her only an instrument to satisfy their Ugly Nazis fantasies, then blinked and concentrated. This was an illusion – the soldiers, the woman, the room; all were in her mind. She tightened her jaw. "You can do what you want and create as many imaginary voyeurs as you wish, but you will never hear me obey you, Savage," she snarled.
The projection of the German men fought down smiles, as if this was too wonderful. But Savage grinned openly as a small cart was wheeled in and over next to his captive
‘We will start slowly - without marking that incredible body. That will come later,’ her promised with relish. The other men were eyeing those long legs and amazing breasts, eyes showing them imagining them marked by the whip, then the heated irons. The blonde woman could not help but lift her hand to her breast and stroke it gently, thinking about that perfect skin being seared away by the red hot metal. ‘Nevertheless,’ Savage went on, ‘I think you will find this experience - electrifying!’
She starred at him in a defiant way, then looked at the instrument which appeared near her
"So lets see if you strong as you look without those amazing powers," he smiled. She kept her breathing even, her chest rising and falling gently inside her cleavage revealing bustier as he took two wires from the cart, each ending in a wicked toothed alligator clip. Stepping up he let his hand caress the bare flesh of her breast above the armour.
The Princess breathed tightly as she felt the hand on her breasts. She watched the clips that the villain would clamp on her nipples, her blue eyes narrowed. It’s an illusion she repeated over and over. But if felt so real.
Savage massaged the Amazon flesh contained by that curving breastplate - so soft yet so powerful. Rather than reach for her nipple, he pinched the top of her tit hard. He said nothing, but noted her mouth tightening at the small but humiliating pain. “Your tickling me," she quipped.
‘Not yet,’ he said, reaching up and attaching the clip to the pinched flesh, ‘but soon.’
Diana felt the teeth marking her breast as he leaned across her, chest brushing hers as he pinched her other boob in the same way. She could feel the cold metal biting in her soft flesh, making her shivering with discomfort.
‘Do you enjoy this as we do?" he asked her. She looked away towards the wall, refusing to acknowledge him. Her eyes were calm, but stern - the picture of female arrogance.
‘You can’t hurt me, she said as her eyes flicked back to him. ‘You don’t have the power to destroy a Amazon" she said a little bit louder, drawing power from her own words.
Savage stepped around in front of her, signalling the man near the cart. ‘Let us see,’ he nodded.
The mental projection of the eager young German adjusted a dial and then flicking a switch. The lights dimmed. Instantly a sound like a rattling saw went though the room.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
On the wooden slats Diana began to shiver as she felt the electricity which ran into her. She kept her eyes fixed ahead and her mouth tight. ‘You´ve…a good…lightshow, she murmured between her clenched teeth showing. The feeling from the current was like hundreds of ants crawling under her skin. She kept her teeth locked tight as she felt the waves of electricity runs trough her body. ‘I´ll not scream and you can´t break my will," she pressed the words out with a quick, shallow breath.
Savage stood impressed by her courage, but did not miss the tension in her arms and legs as she lay taking a deeper breath, struggling against the power coursing through that wonderful body. She could suppress her pain, but not fully conceal it. Tthe current stopped at his nod, and he was rewarded by seeing Diana slouched just a little as her body relaxed.
Diana heard the dial clicking - click click click - as the switch flipped over again ‘Hghhhhh,’ she grunted soflty as she relaxed, then made herself come up straighter. If she had full command of her Olympian powers, this current would have been no more than a tickling buzz, but now she felt all her nerves aching.
This time the ants had turned to wasps, stinging her all over, but worst across her breasts. The metal teeth felt like they were full of burning acid were they clamped her smooth skin. ‘GGGGGGGGGG!!’ she exclaimed, again clamping her teeth together. The stinging hurt burrowed deep into her breasts and gave her a feeling of constant pain. She made fists and every man could see her veins coming out along her arms. Her breathe was coming less evenly as the suffering grew worse, dancing slivers of torment skittering under her flesh. Anger was showing in her eyes as the pain worked its will on her.
‘Ssssssssssssgh, ssssssssssssssgh!’ She began to pounding her body convulses in a very lacy way. She could still stand it physically, but psychologically she railed at being helpless, a victim.
Savage let the flow continue. An expert in such interrogations from centuries of practice, he knew that slowly the torture would be wearing her down. He was letting her know he could make it last as long as he wanted, that she had no way out.
‘Hera help me…,’ she thought as the stinging began to make her no more than a piece of shivering meat.
Savage smiled along with the other men watching the prisoners ordeal. Minutes, hours - he could keep her in pain as long as it suited him. Even worse for her, as long as it pleased him. And seeing the worlds most perfect female form stiff with pain pleased him very, very much.
‘What a show,’ he murmured. He watched at her, viewing her struggling , heard her pounding . ‘This is your hell, Amazon Princess, and you can nothing do to stop me."
The Amazon known as Artemis was no stranger to incarceration. After all, she had been a prisoner in hell.
Tall and athletically built, with a mane of red hair that was bound in pony tail that flowed down to her lower back, Artemis stood chained to a stone wall in one of the sublevels of the Royal Palace. Her hands were bound at shoulder height by manacles set into the masonry behind her. Her feet were likewise chained to pins in the floor.
She still wore the battered remains of the armour she had been subdued in, rents in the form fitting metal revealing cuts and grazes. The torso section had been designed to fall sheer from her hips and down between her thighs, so that she had the full range of movement in her waist and long legs. The latter were protected by stylized, thigh high boots made of silver metal mesh. Her arms were bare, and the armour’s chestpeice was tailored so that her ample cleavage was generously displayed. The reasons were practical as well as aesthetic – no woman with a bust like the red head wanted a blow to the chest piece to leave her boobs completely imprisoned in a crushed mass of metal.
After she had been made to watch Diana’s humiliation in stripping for Vandal Savage and Deathstroke, Artemis had been brought down here and left for almost four days. Her only contact had been with the guards who came with food and water for her, and they never spoke to her. Following an incident on the first day when one of them got to close while offering her gruel on a spoon, they never approached closer than three feet either, content to extend the rations on a fixed pole and empty them against her sternly beautiful face from a distance.
She was fed and watered three times a day. Sometimes the men would deliberately let the contents of the bowls spill over her body, and make lewd comments on how the thin gruel clung to her full curves. You’d think after several times they would get tired of that sport, but no.
She wondered what the rest of the world was doing about what was happening here. She wondered even more about exactly what those happenings entailed for her sisters. Unfortunately as a member of a warlike tribe of the Amazon nation, Artemis was only too aware of the usual fate of warrior women who fell into the hands of enemy males.
The Amazon flexed her muscles periodically, keeping the circulation flowing in her limbs, and also in preparation for any chance to escape. Their captors had treated her more serious injuries, but had not bothered to tend her many bruises and superficial cuts from the fighting. She endured those pains stoically.
For the hundredth time, it seemed, she replayed in her mind the short but brutal battle at the taking of the islands.
In her memory, she heard again the wail of the alarms that warned her sisters too late of the invaders. The frantic scramble, the confusion of how they had penetrated the islands' security turning to anger at the attack. The amazons were teacher, poets, artists and writers; but each and every one was a warrior- they responded decisively with centuries of experience in battle.
Not that it had made any difference.
Then invaders were organized, well armed and ruthless. The women of Themyscria had fought with all the courage that their traditions demanded, but ultimately the odds had been too great. The enemy had the advantage of surprise, they controlled the initiative, and most decisively, they were backed by beings whose power was as those of demigods. With Diana and her fellow superheroines incapacitated by the early taking of hostages on the outlying islands, the battle was over almost before it had begun.
She had not been anywhere near the main beach when the invaders had landed. Those few Amazon captains who escaped had given her brief but horrific reports. In her nightmares of the past few days, she had imagined the platoon of amazons patrolling the beach at dawn confident in their warning systems. Small bands of mercenaries had crept from the surf and lain in wait for the patrols to pass, then all around the island they struck synchronously.
Each Amazon patrol had six warriors and a captain, and each advanced party of mercenaries 6 men. Pouncing from their hiding spots, they struck amazons off their horses with shots from electrified staves. The women screamed as they fell, their armour useless against the energy discharge that skittered across the metal surface, finding its way through the chinks so it could bury its burning fangs in their flesh.
Outraged, the Amazons had struck back. Some fought with swords and spears, some with automatic weapons. The Amazon’s bullets and missiles had been deflected by energy shields worn by the attackers. The warrior women adapted swiftly to martial arts that used leverage and balance, but by then it was too late. Beings like Mammoth, the hulking giant who could lift small ships, were dragging fighters from their horses and knocking them out with a single blow. Others such as Psion the degenerated telepath rendered warriors helpless from afar. Pulled down to the sand the defenders where bludgeoned ruthlessly, the mercenaries waiting until they were barely conscious to shock them into submission. The golden stretches of beach had sounded with the sounds of metal crunching against female flesh, and the screams of women in pain and rage. Not content to swiftly best their female opponents in combat, their attackers went about tearing the armour from their bodies. With the energy weapons scrambling their nervous systems, the captives were left in painful helplessness as the men loomed over them.
The first men to experience the pleasure of beautiful Amazons at their mercy in over 3000 years, it was clear these scum intended to take full and vile advantage of their position.
This tactic was deliberate and effective. Probably, Artemis had decided, it had been devised by Deathstroke. Unable to leave their Amazon sisters to the fate of being humiliated and ravished, warriors had hurled themselves at the invaders rather than falling back to regroup.
Artemis twitched fitfully as she imagine blue clad figures standing over helpless Amazons writhing and screaming in agony from the shocks, half naked as they were slapped and punched into submission. While their limbs twitching feebly their minds would still be alert, able to see the men pawing at their comrades as they felt their own firm curves mauled.
Boots at their throats, choking them, the men had kicked their captives brutally, with all the contempt of males who had overcome superior power and skill held by females. While the coarse yellow grains clung to their backs Amazon women had felt the men’s hands running over their bodies, slapping their faces and their firm proud breasts to bring cries of outrage more than pain. The hired soldiers were silent and faceless yet the Amazons could sense their pride as they violated their intimate spaces with rough gloved fingers. Even more grotesque were the attentions of those like Mammoth and the absurdly named but no less dangerous Baron Blitzkrieg, who spouted abuse and hideous laughter as they inflicted physical degradation.
Lacking powers to help in their villainy the common mercenaries relied on their stun rods. The men had used them sadistically, applying them at low power to the women’s bodies. Following preset instructions, each group picked one woman to suffer while her sisters were forced to watch helplessly, hurling curses and challenges or begging to be allowed to take the screaming woman’s place. The tapered legs and full breasts of those chosen had been bathed in terrible agonizing light while the victims’ screams echoed across the island. Some groups had been given special devices to attach to the prisoners that had burrowed into their nervous systems, torture implants that left the victim howling in pain.
As the battle advanced, the prisoners taken were treated to the full measure of Mans anger. They were beaten with rifle butts as they heard their fellows battling for their lives. Finally the captured female patrols were left tightly bound on the beach or tied to trees watching in horror as the submarines surfaced and men in blue uniforms poured onto the shores of their home. Deprived of the chance to do more violence, the guards watching them took the time to let the women know the full horror of what they would face when the battle was over
By the time the fighting reached the main city, the invaders already had the civilian hostages secured, forcing the bulk of the Amazon’s forces into surrender as they were compelled to lay down arms to protect their guests.
Artemis had been among the last to fall, when the battle had converged on the royal palace. Diana was missing, most of her warriors were already down or captured, but the red head had never been one to accept defeat graciously. With a dozen warriors she had stood at bay against ten times as many mercenaries. They knew the situation, knew by then the hostages would keep Diana and her fellow super-beings impotent. But Amazons were used to fighting against the odds.
Surrounded and pinned down, they had made their stand in the rubble of the courtyard. By then they had armed themselves with heavy ordinance, capable of penetrating the mercenaries’ shields and forcing the men go get in close, the last fighting a vicious hand to hand combat where the warrior women had the advantage speed, strength, and skill over the common grunts. But not in numbers. Body to body, their armour shredded and flailing with their balled fists and deadly feet, the Themyscian warriors fought tooth and nail and fell screaming as they went down under the press of attackers. It had taken five of them to finally bear Artemis to the ground, with her ears full of the screams of wounded men and struggling women. Even through the men’s masks she had been able to read the lustful joy they felt at pinning her lush body with their own. A fist had smashed into her jaw and she had seen stars as her companions howled in anger as they too were subdued.
Without warning the men had released her, springing back as she regained her feet with the swiftness of a jaguar. Only when she had spied the blue and orange form of Deathstroke the Terminator had Artemis understood why they had let her up.
Deathstroke. The man’s fighting skills were legendary even among the women of the Amazons. It was said he had bested Diana’s powerful sister Donna Troy in combat, and had even proved troublesome to Diana herself. Artemis had faced the vigilante Batman hand-to-hand before and lost, and Deathstroke was reportedly even more formidable.
No personal shield here - Deathstroke would shun such cheats, she had known, at least against a non-meta opponent. They had met with a flurry of blows - punches and kicks that could have killed a normal human outright. So fast in fact that the watchers could barely see what was happening. Artemis was accounted the most fearsome hand-to-hand fighter of her race after Diana herself, but she was already battered and Deathstroke was fresh. She had not expected to win, so she wasn’t disappointed.
Though to be fair, neither was he.
It had taken him 62 brutal seconds to bring her down. All she could remember after was the sound of his fist pummelling her, the pain of nerve clusters being expertly targeted. She thought perhaps she tagged him once. The rest of the fight just a matter of how many times he hit her before she could not stand. Over and over, his fist smashing into her ribs, into her gut. Twisting her arm to double her over as his boot exploded into her breasts, making her scream. She recalled spitting blood as she refused to fall, making her mouth taste like metal. Another kick had taken out her leg, driving her to her knees, and then the boot again, making her abdomen a place where pain ruled.
She had lain coughing up blood, feeling ruptured inside. Bruises and cuts covered her. Her long red hair was matted with her own bleeding. When she struggled to push herself up for the final time a snap kick had made her right arm dead below the elbow. Only then did he draw his own staff, arming the charge it carried.
'Fall down,' he had said.
Artemis had swayed, pulling herself up to her knees, but could only spit in reply. She found her voice to scream as the power slammed into her barely covered breasts, knocking her onto her back with her legs under her. She had tried to pull herself up again, covered in bruises, half-dead.
Brave, but dumb' he had added, and fired again. She thought she heard herself shrieking as the power arced through her. That lasted until finally the strength of her will surpassed that of her flesh, and darkness had claimed her.
That had been four days ago.
With a clank the door opened and two mercenaries entered Artemis cell, dressed in their non-descript uniforms. As before they moved with the assuredness of trained soldiers, but the red head could tell by the tension in their bodies and most especially between their legs that they were excited with this duty far beyond a professional level.
Without speaking one of the men came over. Stooping down he laid something of the floor, a roll of thick cloth which he pushed to reveal, as it opened, a square mat about three feet along each side, and sewn with strange symbols around a bright gold circle. Keeping his eyes on the lovely figure before him, he stood up again and backed over to the door.
Artemis made no outward sign of interest, but simply watched the carpet impassively.
Within the woven circle, lights swirled and an image began to take shape. It coalesced slowly but inevitably, finally giving itself the form of a tall and not unhandsome man, with sharp intelligent features and white hair swept back to either side. He was naked save for a loin cloth, but though she had never seen him in human form in anything but an immaculate Armani suit Artemis recognized him immediately.
‘The White Magician,’ she said evenly, but her hands worked a little in their bonds at the sight of them man who had once consigned her to the bleak afterlife. For a moment she was taken back to years ago, when she had held the mantle of Wonder Woman after besting Diana in competition. Only after had she learned that it had all been an elaborate sham of Queen Hippolyta to save her daughter from the gruesome death forseen for the Amazons chosen ambassador. Hippolyta had saved her child by tricking Artemis into taking up the mantle, eventually dying horribly as the magic empowered White Magician had used the shape of a Daemon to literally beat her do death. For a moment she felt an itch where he had skewered her through the abdomen with one of her own arrows.
Then she smiled coldly. ‘How are things in hell?’
‘Very well thank you,’ said the dead man
standing before her. ‘Torture,
pain, endless reruns of Gilligan’s
‘I hope you’re getting your fair share of dismemberments and ass-rapings,’ Artemis quipped.
‘More, actually. The dark powers who granted me the strength and magic of a Greater Daemon were not pleased when their gifts failed to reward them with dominion over this little cess pool of a world.’ He smiled. ‘Though I am allowed an hour off each Thursday for killing you when you stood in my patrons’ way.’
Artemis kept smiling. ‘Why don’t you step out of that circle and untie me and have another crack at it,’ she offered, standing up straighter and pushing out her ample chest to highlight its fullness. ‘Who knows, if you do a good enough job they might even let you be the daddy sometime
The men either side of the door smiled under their masks. The reports were right; this bitch was feisty.
‘Alas, the terms of my being here are quite strict. I am simply to help those who have arranged your coming entertainment – it seems when the sorcerer Felix Faust conveyed a message and the Lords of Hell were amused enough by the request to grant some help in “questioning you”.
***
In a room not far away, the two watchers observed Artemis discussion with her old foe.
‘Why did you gather the White Magician, of all people? Surely we have enough devices to make that haughty slut suffer,’ one of the two men asked of the other.
His companion smiled. ‘This is her particular fear; being returned to the tender care of the demons from whom she once escaped. And besides, I’ve always wanted to see just how well earned the reputation of these creatures is, especially with a gorgeous bitch like this one as their subject.’
In the cell the magician turned to the two men, who stepped forward, clearly eager to begin.
‘Well,’ said the first, ‘lets see if we can learn a thing or two from those devils of the netherworld. But if I am not satisfied, I am going to take it out on that slut personally, mark my words.’
‘Of course,’ chuckled his companion in agreement.
Part 3
Diana
‘This is your hell, Amazon Princess, and you can nothing do to stop me."
Diana let her eyes flick down to him. Sweat was beading on her forehead below her tiara, and her fists clenched tight. The Justice Leaguer was bouncing gently in her chains as a constant, low hiss of pain came from her mouth. ‘You…filth, is that all you…nnnngggghhg…have?’
Diana’s exquisite physique was trembling constantly now, her legs rigid as she vibrated gently on the pitiless wood. She tried to hold Savage in the harsh light of her glaring blue eyes, but then her head fell back, her bravado slipping a little as the electric wasps of the current tore at her flesh. She struggled to ignore the pain in her arms, her long legs, across her body. Inside her breasts was a seething nest of suffering that was trying to tear outward through the perfect smoothness of the quivering orbs.
‘Unnn….uuuuuhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrr…..uhn uhn uhn…’
The men watching could see her naked form beginning to shine under the lights as she perspired like a track runner. Wave after wave of stinging anguish ran over her awesome body. Soon she was literally bathed in sweat. Her being glistened in the illumination of the evil chamber.
Strapped down and tormented by the power searing her flesh, Diana wondered how long they would keep it up - how long could they keep the current scorching through her. She grit her teeth, fighting the thought - it didn’t matter - ignore the pain.
‘HUNNNNHH,’ she grunted. With her eyes closed tight she let red lips part slightly to exhale, then sucked in air to her tortured chest. To deny the pain she tried to remember her better days as she fought against this evil. Pictures of her mother and her friends rose into her mind while the wasps were stinging over and over, every breath tormented as the electrodes went on jabbing her with needles of pain. Light and hope were pushed out of her thoughts as the feel of the wood digging into her shoulders as her back arched further. Her powerful body stiffened as it endured the never-ending torture.
Abruptly the pain stopped. Just like that. Without thinking Diana gasped with relief, having almost forgotten what it felt like not to hurting. Her body spasmed a little bit as the nerves twitched.
‘Hmm, if we go on you might become dehydrated.’ Savage said with a smile. ‘Should we give you some water?’ he asked her.
Suddenly she was aware of a desert in her mouth, parched and barren. She could have quaffed a river, but she kept herself silent. Her eyes were a little bleary as a soldier stepped up, and then suddenly she was drowning in a freezing waterfall, sucking in air as knives of cold sliced at her flesh. She tried to hold back an outcry but couldn´t.
‘Huuuuhh!’
Diana felt the cold water over every inch of her, stinging her as much as the electricity. It went running down over her curves in arctic rivers. Her flesh goose-pimpled and her eyes went wide as she shook the freezing drops from her face. The Princess clenched her fist as her nerves betrayed her and delivered her into fresh agony between heat and ice. She licked her lips, tasting the liquid and blowing her hair from her face as Savage stood looking up at her. He was noting the prominence of those splendid breasts.
‘Its clear that water WAS cold,’ he joked at his prisoner’s expense. ‘Lets’ see how cold it was, eh?’
Stretching out his arm he reached up to fondle her tits, the cold making it feel like he was using iron pincers on her. Diana’s round nipples grew hard as steel and Savage noticed it with satisfaction. She ground her teeth as he tugged at the fastening of her old style armour, just enough to completely remove the chest piece. The men in the room strained to see as two perfect orbs of flesh as they were fully revealed under the harsh white lights.
‘What have you in store now?" she sniffed at him, trying to ignore the Germans ogling her, reducing her to their unwilling sex object. The men, even the chamber itself were an elaborate illusion. Only Savage was real – only Savage and the pain.
‘I think these need to be moved,’ he said, tugging at the clips fastened to her electrically burned flesh. It felt like he was tearing meat from her breasts.
‘Sssssssssssshgghhh!’
Diana could feel her nipples throbbing lightly from his handling of them. She forced herself not to look at the angry red blisters on her breasts where the clips had delivered their vicious high voltage bite. Before her, the villain let his eyes take in the swell of female flesh, rising like a mountains between him and the woman. Putting his hand into the bucket he fetched out an ice cube left over.
‘Would you like that drink?’ he said to her, while the cube touched the hardened nub. making it painfully stiff. Despite her best efforts the proud super-heroine moaned. He let the cube circle her nip, fresh shivers running through her wonderous chest.
‘Ask nicely,” he said, smiling like a ghoul. Diana caught the look in his eyes - hunger - hunger to see her beg. ‘No!’ she snarled at him.
He nodded as if in approval. ‘Then perhaps some more exercise,’ he said, deftly pulling the clip from her tit with a sharp SNAP.
‘NNN,’ she winced softly, the sound like a aroused whimper to the hard cocked German soldiers. She wet her lips with her tongue. ‘You can do a thousand times more than this and you’ll never hear me begging.’ she spat as her head fell back to the table.
Savage said nothing. He took her rock hard tit-nub in his fingers and stretched it towards him, squeezing to hurt her. Then let the teeth of the clips enclose the pink flesh around Diana’s left nipple - tighter and tighter.
She could feel the pressure of the teeth sinking into her skin, her tit button. A drop of blood went running down the steep curve of breast. ‘You’re tickling me ,’ Diana said softly. The gorgeous Amazon was breathing fast and deep as he went to work on her other hill of flesh. She looked away up at the ceiling as she felt the second vice upon her, ready to close and crush her female nub in its clasp. The pain became constant. The heroine’s hands pressed flat against the table as she pitted her will against it, knowing much worse would come all too soon. There was no way to escape the suffering – all she could do was endure it stoically.
‘That’s it Diana,’ Savage coached. He sounded like an encouraging parent. ‘Feel the pain, experience it. Don’t run from it; embrace it my bold warrior - show us your steel. Make me proud!’
He moved the second clip against her right nipple...toying with the delicate bud, rolling it between his fingers and twisting it cruelly. Making it hard for the pain to come. Diana looked down without shame, mouth set but with her lips turned down in preparation for the next jolt of pain in her chest, knowing it must happen and that nothing she could do would prevent it.
Savage moved the clip in and let its jaws hover under and over her erect flesh-button. Then he began releasing it slowly, slowly, letting it close around her aureole, crunching it millimetre by millimetre until the goddess-like Amazon’s nipple was completely squeezed and crushed by the relentless power of the sharp steel jaws.
The immortal villain beamed as she held herself rigid while the little trickles of blood ran down over her boobs. Then he stepped back and nodded for the man to flip the switch.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Wonder Woman jerked back as the pain hit her on a new level, like someone had stabbed her in the chest with red hot blades. Her mouth flew open as she felt her breath knocked out of her, suffocating her. Gasping she tried to inhale, but there was no room in her lungs for air - only for pain.
‘NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!’ She could nothing to do to escape the torment which roared through her shaking breast mounds again and again. She felt as she were being suffocated. With no air for her lungs she began to choke, the suffering running down through her tits and ran across her flesh to every part of her, making her dance on the wood. Her head moving side to side, long black hair tumbling over her face. ‘GODS,’ she gasped, face pinched.
The feeling as if giant clawed hands were tearing into her breasts and pressing all air out of her was horrible. Her face was pale and covered in sweat while her incredible lower body undulating fitfully. The gorgeous heroine tried to breath but there was only the pain which ran over her and reduced to send her to a laboured, wheezing groan.
Near the platform Savage’s eyes were glued unashamedly to his victims sweaty tits, hypnotized by the sight of the wired clamped to her bleeding nipples, bouncing as she fought for strength to suck in a ragged breath, and then another. With her hands by the side Diana had arched her back in response to the way he was torturing her, flattening her belly and making her pelvis quiver with tension. The villain had known this would be the case, but still the awesome spectacle of the Earth’s most perfect boobs jerking with electric anguish. Still covered by her spat the woman’s flawless thighs and pussy humped the air was beyond all expectations.
Twitching on the torture platform Diana heard herself let out her suffering as a low animal cry. Don’t scream don’t scream don’t scream…She kept the though racing through her mind. Hera help your daughter, she prayed silently as she felt tears wetting her cheeks and heard another noise.
Click, click.
The current surged again, getting stronger and stronger. Without the superhuman endurance of the Gods and only the gift of her Amazon birthright to rely upon, Diana spasmed on the reclining platform. Her head pushed back as her body arced then slammed back down. The men watched the captive woman’s body bouncing like a rubber band.
‘NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!’
Within her chest her lungs felt like they were imploding as the muscles about them clenched like fists. The knives of current skewered her nipples with serrated blades. Lifting her head Diana let her watering blue eyes fall to where the clips were biting her round pink boob tips as she felt her breasts burning from within.
‘HHuh…HHUH…HUUUUURRRRRRRAAAAAAAAARRRRR!!!!
From a million miles away she heard a cultured voice through the waves of pain. ‘Scream, Diana,’ she heard it say.
Click, click!
More pain – worse - claws were ripping her breasts to pieces of red flesh. Her heart pounded and siezed like it would explode in her chest.
In the illusionary torture chamber Savage and the Germans stood watching a goddess of suffering heaving naked before them, perfect body shaking hard and tits with rivers of sweat running down them jumping wildly. She was magnificent in her struggling, a picture to make the cocks of men seeing it hard as long as they lived. Bathed in her own sweet juice she was no more than a electric sex doll which thrashed and gurgled for breath. A harsh cracking sound running rough the chamber as her fingers gouged splinters from the wood.
Tears leaked from the eyes of the most powerful woman on Earth. She couldn’t help it; all that mattered was drinking in air, forcing it into her convulsing lungs. Savage watched her breasts heave with every greedy breathe she alternated between pushing her boobs to the ceiling and heaving up with her upper body, legs tight as her abdominal muscles seized up. The pain was so great now that the proud female in front of him was unable to control her convulsing body. Diana bounced so wildly that drops of sweat flew across the chamber to give some men a taste of her. The sound of her clenched wet ass pounding the wood echoed around the room as the cords of her neck bulged with tension, full lips pulled back in a twisted grimace of torment.
‘GRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHH!!!!!
Then – gone! Without warning the tortured warrior collapsed like a raggedy doll, her body crashing back to the wood with a moist thud. She lay there twitching feebly until the current was cut off at Savage’s curt order.
This time it was the soldier who had had the privilege of operating the switch came forward with the bucket of water. He emptied over the prisoner, bringing her back to consciousness in a fresh fit of coughing and sputtering.
Once more Diana shook the wet hair from her face and blinked her eyes clear. Savage stood waiting patiently for her to revive fully.
‘Well, fraulein,’ he said at last, ‘now we shall see how much pain is necessary to make you tell us all about the allied forces. We have many more buckets if you feel the need to pass out again’
‘This is not real,’ she snarled at him, ignoring the jibe about her showing him weakness. Eyes that had been taught to look for the good in all people burned with cold hatred. ‘And I will not play your sick game!’
‘Not real? I don´t think that makes a difference to either of us,’ he smirked and nodded at the blonde, who had moved around and was now standing ready for her turn at the generator.
The device hummed and again a terrific jolt of pain exploded inside Diana’s tits. As the awful current flowed she jumped and bucked, teeth grinding together. Savage watched in sadistic at seeing those spectacular tits taking such punishment, almost dancing on top of her chest while they were being electrocuted.
The blonde obeyed his signal to stop and Diana slumped forward, head rolling to the side. Her eyelids fluttered, the long lashes moist with tears. Savage knew that in peak condition she could withstand this punishment for days without showing such fatigue, but she had already endured their tortures, both physical and psychological, for the better part of a week. Like a man laying siege to a fortress impregnable to a single direct assault, he slowly depleted her resources in a prolonged campaign, a sadistic war of attrition.
‘For something that is not real, you seem somewhat distressed by it!’ the villain chuckled, giving the knife in her feminine psyche another twist.
Diana’s eyes fixed on her adversary as she mustered her strength. She felt as if she had run a marathon, but she put the weariness behind her and squared her broad shoulders. ‘I know what your truly want, Vandal Savage. You may…hurt me,’ she said, pausing for less than a heartbeat at the words, ‘but you will…never...own me.’
Savage looked at her and raised an eyebrow as he smiled. ‘All good things,’ he said offhandedly. ‘For the moment I am more than happy to settle for hurting you.’ He raised his hand to the German orderly who stood rigid with anticipation in her tight brown shirt. Diana breathed deep, breasts rising as the clips trembled on her nipples.
‘One more time, shall we fraulein?’ Savage said to the blonde, and she smiled wider as she flicked the switch again.
(A word of praise is due to Devilsharvest for his invaluable help, along with Lord
Arrukar, in
constructing the last chapter. And to Arrukar again for this
latest...)
Part 4
Power Girl
Muscles
in the arms of one of most powerful beings on Earth flexed taught, then relaxed. The
only sound in the underground room was the soft rhythm of breathing and the
occasion grating of hundreds of tons of steel against the stone walls.
The
ceiling of the dank chamber was a pair of huge chrome metal plates, fitted
to match exactly the chambers oblong walls and meeting in a line that ran through the diameter of the space, bisecting it. Their lower surfaces, facing the floor
just over 6 feet below them, were perfectly flat, except for a cylindrical
shaft. This was protruding like a shiny metal stalactite about three feet in
circumference that trailed down from each plate, almost to the floor.
Lying
between the flat lower face of both these steel shafts and the paved floor was
a woman. Practically naked in their torn
one piece tunics, the two Amazons of Themyscria had been bound face up with
their arms pulled out from their sides and their legs stretched out, secured at
the wrists and ankles with iron manacled set into the cold floor. Gags shaped
like the bits of a horses bridle were fixed deeply into their mouths,
preventing them from speaking. As they
inhaled each woman could feel the shaft as it sat poised above their bellies.
The crushing weight hovering over them was an ever-present threat of a swift
but gruesome death should it ever close the ten inches between it and the chill
stone beneath.
In the
centre of the room, arms upraised and taking the full massive weight of the
steel, was the focus of all this effort.
A girl, by appearance no more than in her mid twenties,
standing about 5’8” tall and dressed in a clinging white one-piece outfit from
that covered her body down to her hips and thighs. An open space across her the costumes chest
allowed viewers a dazzling view of her truly spectacular breasts, large mounds
of impossible firm flesh that seemed to defy gravity as easily as their owner
did when she soared through the sky with her red cape trailing behind her. On her feet she wore blue buccaneer boots and
matching blue gloves covered her hands which were currently occupied with
supporting the metal ceiling Her blonde
hair was cropped short above her shoulders and had somewhat wild appearance
that well matched the grim resolve and simmering anger apparent in strong lines
of the woman’s lovely face.
Power
Girl, alias Karen Starr, did not have a certain idea how long she had been
holding up the metal roof, but she knew it was a long time. Her imprisonment was simple and yet
fiendishly effective. Able to shatter
even the strongest forged restraints with strength that rivalled the Kryptonian hero Superman, she
could have burst through the wall of the chamber and escaped with ease. But
only by letting go of the steel above her, thus allowing it to drive the metal
shafts straight through the abdomens of the imprisoned Amazons. As long as she wanted the Amazons to stay
alive, Karen was trapped.
The
heroine fumed at her captivity. The
weights she was supporting were enormous by conventional human standards, but
she could heft them without effort for days on end. There was no danger to her fellow prisoners
from her tiring physically, though hours of holding the same position with
nothing to distract her was taking its toll mentally. No doubt as intended.
She had
tried talking to the other women, but found that frustrating too. They could not reply, even assuming they were
among those Amazons who had mastered English.
Both girls were attractive, one of an Asian appearance with golden skin,
dark bewitching eyes and long black hair – Karen though she remembered seeing
her with Diana and the Amazon princess calling her Eobea. The other was dusky skinned, a mark of the
Amazons raised in the Egyptian city of
Eobea had seemed appreciative of
Karen’s efforts to comfort her, but the other had only glared or looked away,
no doubt furious that an outsider, even though a woman, was holding her life in
her hands. Truth be told, Karen was
never good with words of comfort, and ironically in disposition probably more
like the warlike Eastern Amazons than their Themyscrian
sisters. She preferred action to talk,
and was never one to shy away from a hands on solution. The duplicitous tactic of using hostages to
negate her strength made her blood boil.
There
was a sound to the side of a door opening.
All three women looked over, the Amazons having to strain a little to
raise their heads as a man entered the room.
He was
unimposing in build, perhaps 6 feet tall and lean. The most distinctive thing about him was his
wardrobe – ordinary streetclothes underneath, but
over the top a green surgical gown and matching cap and mask. Above the mask his eyes were hidden behind a
pair of star shaped sunglasses that looked more appropriate for a rock star
than a supervillain.
Despite
his un-intimidating presentation though, Karen felt her blood chill at the
sight of the man. She had never met him,
but knew him by his gruesome reputation as the world’s foremost expert on
torture. So horrific were the tales told
about this man and his expertise at inflicting suffering that even his comical
title of ‘The Crime Doctor’ could not
take away from the lingering horror he carried with him.
The man
walked into the room, hardly glancing at the Amazons of on the floor. That was fine with Karen, since her primary
fear was that this sadistic creep would make her watch him torture the two
prisoners while she was helpless to intervene.
She held no fear for her own well-being.
She had survived hits from armour piercing ammunition and walked
unscathed through fires that could melt steel without the slightest discomfort.
The
Doctor stopped in front of her, examining her with his hands held in front of
him, draped in surgical gloves. ‘Good
day, Miss Star,’ he said, speaking in a voice that under other circumstances
might have been soothing, with rich comforting tones. ‘I trust you’re resting comfortably.’
Karen
did not dignify his statement with a response, and he did not seem perturbed by
her silent glare. Instead, he reached up
and felt the firmness of the muscles in her upper arms. ‘Triceps holding up well I see.’ His hand ran down to her shoulders and then
around to her back. ‘No discomfort in
the deltoids or around the scapula? Excellent!’
Karen
inhaled to calm herself as the human vermin in the Doctors garb continued to
touch her. Under any normal
circumstances she would have never permitted him to get within arms reach of
her, unless it was to break those arms as she put him under arrest. She was actually trembling with the rage that
coursed through her as he continued his twisted examination.
He
stooped down, feeling her legs between the knee and hip. ‘Well developed quadriceps, yes.’ His hand moved down, the palm caressing the
heroine’s inner thigh. ‘And such fine
definition of the sartorius muscle.’ He stroked Karen’s bare leg tenderly, eyes
fixed on the magnificent musculature of the alien woman. Slowly his hand crept higher, towards the
gently mound where the white of her uniform was stretched across her
crotch. Karen’s eyes remained fixed
ahead, but they blazed with fury as she took quick, noisy breaths, mouth working
with suppressed passion.
The
Doctor turned his hand, cupping her soft pubis and rubbing it gently under the
white material. ‘Can you feel that,’ he
asked, impassively.
‘You
sick son-of-a-bitch!’ Karen exploded, glaring at the far wall. ‘I swear when I
get out of hear I’m going to rip that fucking hand off your arm.!’
The
Doctor looked up at her and cocked his head to one side. ‘Subject shows signs of belligerence and
heightened aggression,’ he said clinically.
Standing up he looked Karen in the eyes, then let his gaze drift down
over the impressive frontage of her uniform, lingering on the gaping space that
displayed her meta-cleavage. ‘Overt
displays of sexuality noted, possibly to compensate for lingering feelings of
inadequacy or as a means to create situations that allow her to take on
adversarial role.’
He
looked back up at Karen’s narrowed eyes, then reached up and grasped her
breasts, his palms firmly cupping the swelling teats and hefting them
experimentally. ‘Subject shows no signs
of enhancement surgery.’ He raised an
eyebrow. ‘Impressive
mammary attributes.’
Karen
gave a growl that would not have been out of place coming from a wounded polar
bear.
‘You can
feel that then,’ the Doctor said. ‘And this?’ He
squeezed, the invulnerable but flexible flesh moving in his hands.
‘Get…your
hand…OFF!’ Karen snapped, livid with outrage.
‘I’ll
take that as a yes, then,’ the Doctor said, stepping back and removing his
hands. Karen continued to stare daggers
at him. ‘Very
interesting. You know, Miss Power
Girl, your nervous system is a great curiosity to me, as it is to many men of science.’
He put his hands behind his back as he took on a lecturing tone. ‘For example, it is well know
that like Superman, you are invulnerable to all but the most powerful outside
forces. Bullets ricochet off you skin
without a scratch, but also without apparently any pain response on you
part. In a normal human a strike by a bullet,
even if it did not penetrate the epidermis, would cause intense pain. You and your ilk, however, seem immune to such
discomfort.’
‘The
intrigue comes from the fact that you are perfectly capable of registering
other sensations. For example,’ he again
reached out and probed Karen’s breast, finding the nub of her nipple under her
uniform. He rolled it between his fingers,
feeling the button of flesh becoming firmer.
‘You react as any female to simple stimulus response that does not
involve pain.’
The
circumstances of her bondage gave the blonde prisoner enough wiggle room that
she was able to pull back, wrenching her tit from the villain’s unwanted
touch.
‘So,’
the Doctor continued, rubbing his chin under the mask. ‘Clearly you are able to feel, despite your
virtually impenetrable skin. In humans, pain receptors require greater stimulus
to activate than the everyday nerve clusters in the subject’s body. My theory
is that while your epidermal layer is sufficiently flexible to allow the nerves
to receive mild signals, your so-called invulnerability means that extreme
force, heat, etc is needed to activate the your pain receivers – in short, they
exist but are simply harder to access.’
Karen
wet her lips, shaking her hair from her eyes as she shifted her hands
supporting the tons of metal overhead. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, freak.’
Beneath
his mask, the Doctor smiled. ‘Not at
all, dear girl. It is a delightful
challenge – how to torture a woman who is practically indestructible. There is the obvious solution of course, to
use other meta-powered beings to provide the necessary stimulation, but I
prefer not to delegate. Therefore, a
more ingenious approach is needed.’
The door
to the room opened again, and another man stepped through. He was shorter than the Doctor, well dressed
in a Nehru jacket and pants, with Asian features. He too wore glasses, but his were more
utilitarian, simple round frames that sat over his dark eyes. The look in those slanted eyes as he took in
the sight of the three women could only be describes as cold, but Karen somehow
sensed behind his clinical demeanour lurked an even darker side.
‘This is
Doctor Moon – possibly you have heard of him.
A few years ago he began researching means to reprogram the human mind
using electrical impulses from a modified Cat scan
machine. An early success of his was the
burglar known as Catwoman, whom he…dissuaded from a
continuing partnership with the Batman.
Later, when he was captured, he used his technology at the behest of the
The Asian bowed slightly,
offering Karen a small smile. The
captive heroine felt as if she were being sized up by a hungry reptile.
‘As you
can imagine, my colleague is something of an expert on the human nervous
system, particularly that part which applies to experiencing pain. Together we have come up with a theory we
would like to test.’ The masked villain
turned to Moon. ‘Doctor.’
Thank
you, Doctor,’ Moon replied in perfectly articulated English. He faced Power Girl. ‘We wish to experiment in the area of
heightened pain response – allowing the subject to feel much greater pain than
normally, physiologically possible. This
has of course been achieved in past with the use of drugs, but that would be
impractical in this case. Fortunately we have access to technology owned by a
race called the Sangtee.’
‘Never
heard of them,’ Karen snapped, but though she saw a fearful recognition in the
eyes of the Amazons.
‘Not
surprising, but they do have something of a history with Wonder Woman,’ Moon
replied, taking off his glasses to wipe them.
‘I believe they have been spending some time reacquainting the Princess
with their skills in causing females to suffer.’
Karen
froze, shocked with anger, and the Amazons made sounds of outrage. ‘If these Sangtee have hurt Diana…’ Power
Girl hissed.
‘Oh most
assuredly they have,’ Moon answered, and produce a small recording device,
which he turned on. Immediately the sound of a whip cracking against flesh and
a woman screaming in pain filled the room.
‘Please
stop,’ moaned the woman, her voice horrifyingly familiar. ‘It hurts.’
The
Amazons stared wide-eyed, then began thrashing in their bonds, bodies heaving
as they fought to get free and at the men smiling as they listened to the
sounds of Diana being tortured. Karen was
beside herself with rage, the metal slabs shaking audibly above her head.
‘You
bastards!’ she spat. ‘You’ll pay for
this, both of you, you sons-of-bitches!’
‘The
Sangtee are masters of neural interface tech,’ Moon went on, as if Karen had
not spoken. ‘They have devices to
stimulate pain beyond the physical damage done to the subject. I have modified their technology based on my
own understanding of electrical fields in the body and brain to create this.’
He held
up a small square piece of plastic covered with criss-crossing circuit
pathways. Walking over the dusky skinned
Amazon on the floor, her reached down and grabbed her curly dark hair, yanking
her head up and making her growl around the gag.
‘Leave
her alone,’ Karen barked, but Moon ignored her and pushed the circuit chip
against her temple, where it adhered to the skin. The captive woman watched him with murder in
her eyes. He then stepped back and held out his arm with his watch, pressing a
button on the time-pieces side. ‘If you
would care to do the honours, Doctor,’ Moon said to his partner.
The
Crime Doctor bent down and produced a scalpel, while the Amazon glared at him
and Karen cursed helplessly. With it he
quickly cut away the tattered clothes, leaving the woman nude on the floor, her
dark peaked breasts heaving as she sucked in air furiously. Below her pierced navel, she had a hairless mons, the dark labial lips a tight crease between her long
legs.
‘The
nature of the device is that it interacts with the body’s natural bio-electric
field, so having the skin directly accessible is important,’ Moon
commented. The other looked down at the
helpless Amazon warrior with her face a mask of fury, and spoke calmly. ‘It’s alright, Miss. You needn’t feel embarrassed – I’m a medical
man.’
With
slow movements, the torturer reached down and took the side of the woman breast
between his finger and thumb. Then
softly, he squeezed, just pinching the flesh.
The
result was astounding. The Amazon
gurgles as if in agony, her head snapping back and her body arching
upwards. The Crime Doctor held her for a
few seconds, then released her, allowing her to
collapse back onto the floor, shaking with convulsions.
The
other women watched in horror. The
Doctor next flattened his hand and slapped the girl’s boob lightly. It was
hardly hard enough for the smack to be heard, but the girl bucked and shrieked
as if he had smashed his leather belt into the meat of her tit. He repeated the
act and the result was even more extreme as the girl thrashed as if in agony.
'You see, the pain she feels is multiplied a
hundredfold. We could achieve this level without the Sangtee’s
help of course, but would not, without their assistance, be able to stimulate
pain response to point where it could be felt by a subject who was...,’ Moon
paused and smiled, '…invulnerable.'
'Of
course we are men of science,’ The Crime Doctor interjected. ‘A theory must be
tested to be proved.’
‘And
your just doing this for the sake of science I suppose, you freakish little
deviants,’ Karen spat at the two men in front of her.
The Doctor
shrugged. 'One has to love ones job, Power Girl.' He approached her, and pulled out a scalpel.
‘Moon said this works best with bare skin. I’m guessing that like Superman your
uniform is indestructible, but we’ve noticed his cape isn’t. We theorize this
is because the garment needs to be against the skin to be protected.’
He
reached out, taking her uniform top where it was stretched across her
magnificent expanse of chest, hooking a rubber-gloved finger into her uniform
and pulling it away from the curving flesh.
Moon
watched, pursing his lips in approval of the luscious curves being revealed.
The surgeon reached over with the blade. 'First incision here, I think,’ he
said. He cut lightly, and the material parting reluctantly, but it DID cut.
Immobilized, Karen watched with helpless anger as he continued
sawing slowly and methodically. The
busty heroine looked up as she felt the cool air on more and more exposed
flesh.
The
strain of holding in her mighty chest too much for the compromised uniform, her
own cleavage now helped the costumes demise.
Rrrrrrr…IIIIIP!
With a
sudden surge her breasts spilled out, nipples large and round in the light,
breasts sitting impossibly proud.
‘Mmmm...a remarkable woman,’ Moon
said, eyes glued to the two magnificent mammaries now fully displayed.
The Doctor
agreed. ‘Do you think it’s her dense molecular structure that keeps such big
tits so taught, Moon?' Karen pressed
her lips together with rage, ready to scream in anger.
‘Quite
possibly,’ Moon said, stroking his chin. `It would be interesting to observe
her reactions to a mammal dissection while it is performed on her! Perhaps a
thorough deconstruction of these breasts could give us some…firm data on the subject.’
The Doctor
smiled at the pun. ‘I concur - but first we should tend to the task at hand.’
‘By
all means.’
The
Doctor reached up and held out another chip like the one they had used on the
Amazon. ‘Unless you would rather we used them on these other prisoners first?’
he said to Karen dispassionately.
Moon
took a step forward and casually put his boot onto the dark Amazon´s
wide-open cunt and tenderly applied the slightest
pressure. She screeched in hellish pain, twisting and squirming on the cold
floor, as Moon stood there, slightly giggling. Then he let go and stepped back
a little, eagerly observing Power Girl´s reaction.
The superheroine was clearly furious, but the trained
psychologist in the Asian could also see the sick fear. Fear for her fellow victims
balanced against fear for herself. But of course the blonde was a hero, and her
response entirely predictable.
'Do your
worst, scum,' she said, meeting the gaze of both men.
`I dare
say, we will!’ Moon chortled.
Part 5
Power Girl
The Doctor
placed the circuit with gently pressure against Karen’s temple. She felt a slight buzz, but that was all.
'Now,
lets start with something simple - blunt trauma will do.’ The masked sadist reached
back and slapped her tit with has hand so it made a loud smack!
SWACK!
Moon
felt a surge of pleasure in his crotch as he saw Power Girl´s
face contort in pain and her eyes snapping wide open in shock. This was the
first time she actually felt pain from such a blow.
Unfortunately
for the torturer, she wasn’t the only one.
‘AAAA!’ gasped the Doctor, wringing his hand and
cursing himself. ‘Damn tits are still hard as steel.’ He flexed his fingers.
Karen
shook off the pain and smiled. 'Too much woman for you, prick?' she chuckled.
Moon was
also a bit amused by his colleague’s misfortune. Yet he did not approve of his
victims displaying such mocking attitude.
‘We may find some useful tools to apply to our purposes,’ he said in a
dangerously low voice.
The Doctor
nodded and went over to a tray near the door, returning with a pair of metal
cylinders. Pressing a button, he
released telescoping rods, making each a steel quirt a foot and half long. ‘For you Doctor,’ he said, giving one to Moon.
Karen
breathed a little deeper, seeing the bars in the men’s hands. She could still
feel a slight tingle where the Doctor had slapped her, but she refused to let
her anxiety show.
‘Thank
you, Doctor!’ the Asian said, taking a good grip on the tool.
‘Do you
expect me to beg,’ the muscular blonde said contemptuously. She pushed up against the metal above her,
flexing the muscles in her legs. Her breasts felt exposed and vulnerable, and
her face was flushed with anger. These
foul little bastards were actually going to beat her! Her, Power Girl! It was unthinkable. Her anger almost choked
her as she stood watching them get ready.
‘Perhaps,
eventually` Moon said in reply. ‘But for now, I think it is sufficiently
satisfactory to hear you scream!’
The
caped heroine spat at his feet, bracing herself. Moon raised the steel tube, aiming at her
right breast, and hit it as hard as he could.
The
fulsome boob only dented slightly inwards under the force of the blow, yet the
reaction of the woman was tremendous. She yelled in pain, casting her head back
and growling at the ceiling above of her.
Karen
clenched her teeth to stifle the cry, jaw tight as the pain smashed though her
chest. Even as she got control of herself the other tit received a blow, the
metal pushing the lovely mammary down a little as it landed atop its steeply swelling
curve. Both orbs were immediately filled with pain - such as the beautiful
heroine had rarely felt.
The
Doctor swung again, aiming for the same spot - THWACK!
Moon watched her tit receiving the third blow, the girl of power
twisting but not letting go of the steel above her. The men smiled as the woman
who could have twisted their heads off without effort could not help giving a
sob of pain as her tit suffered again.
Moon now
attacked, as well. The rod shot upwards striking at the underside of her
breast, making the invulnerable mammary jiggle on her chest, lifting the tit
and letting it fall back. Power Girl’s body simulated the motion, rising up on
her toes as she grunted loudly - ‘GGGGGG!’ Above the prisoners and victims, the metal
plates rumbled ominously. She was breathing deeper now and her breasts rose and
fell like divine inspirations, making Moon to give her tit another blow, right
on her perky nipple.
‘NNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!’
Karen bit back the scream, eyes tight!
'Bastard!' she gasped out, not quite keeping the sob from her tone.
Even as she
spoke the Doctor aimed his blow, this time not quite catching the nipple but
smashing lengthways down the middle of the other teat. The blonde made a sound
like an angry whimper. With the pain
hammering in her breasts Karen actually sagged, the metal above dropping.
Instantly both Amazons were squealing as the silver shafts crushed down on
their abdomens.
‘Oooo, careful, Ms. Starr,’ Moon gloated, pushing the tip of
his rod under her breast and pushed it up. Karen struggled up, panting.
Realizing what had happened she pushed herself and the metal plates up again.
Moon followed her motion, keeping the rod firm against her tit as if he were
helping her – or worse, as if she were trying to escape the abuse of her
breast...the indignity of this grating at her even through the haze of pain she
was in.
The Doctor
smiled. ‘First test successful I think. Shall we move on to sustained pressure!’ He handed Moon a pair of steel forceps.
Karen
shook sweat from her eyes - she actually couldn’t remember when she had sweated
last. She felt the buzz of the machine on her temple and the ache in her abused
breasts. Looking down, she could see
both her tits, apparently unmarked, but full of torment, as if they were getting
mauled by wild beasts from within.
Moon was
holding his pair of tongs in front of her face...clicking them together, while
smiling viciously at her. She shook the wild blonde fringe of hair from her eyes,
looking at him with hatred. She wet her lips while looking at the metal. Her
own fingers were harder than the pincers and could have ripped his nose from
his face easily, but she knew that wouldn’t help her.
The tips
of the forceps were flat and covered with numerous, sharp spikes at the insides.
‘My own personal surgical tools,’ the Doctor offered in explanation. Karen again
steadied her breathing, ignoring the pain in her tits.
She made
herself remember these men had already tortured Diana, drawing strength from
her anger.
Moon
lowered the tongs, aiming at the underside of Power Girl´s
right breast. He trapped a section of her mammal flesh between his tongs and
closed them with brutal force.
Unable
to stop herself Karen whined, making a
choked cry. Her face twisted in pain, mouth down-turned and eyes shut tight.
She put all her concentration into holding back her sounds of pain as he held
her breast, crushing it.
Using
the wicked instrument on her tits, Moon licked his lips as he twisted the huge
pliers around. The spikes could not break her skin and show him her blood on
that perfect smooth creamy surface, but she would feel them as if they were
gouging the flesh from her. The woman
moaned, a deep, lovely sound to the two men, her tit stretching as it was
hauled and twisted about the point of capture. Both sadists watched intently,
mesmerised by her flesh being abused and more by the sound of her pain as she
struggled to resist.
Moon let
go of her tit, letting it snap back into its natural perfect shape on her
rib-cage. Karen immediately letting go the breath she had been holding,
expelling with such force it pushed both men back a step.
'Very
intense response,' the Doctor breathed. He made so secret of the wanton
pleasure he got from his cruelty. 'The
subject is clearly a very sensual creature. I wonder just how much give those mammaries
have in them.’ He reached for a set of large pliers-like clamps and set about placing
them on the top and bottom of the other tit-sphere. Then he started to apply
pressure.
‘Hmmm` Moon
watched the proceedings with keen interest. `This will prove interesting.’ He
flicked his gaze to the two Amazons watching in helpless outrage. ‘Wouldn’t you
agree, my dears?’
With certain
cruelty, the clamps pressed about the tit, squeezing it out of shape,
flattening it as the Doctor sweated with the effort of compacting that
ultra-dense flesh. His resolve was fueled by the look
of anguish in his victims gorgeous face. He grunted, arms trembling with the
strength needed to press that mighty breast - even the efficiently heightened
mechanisms of the pliers were having
difficulty crushing the super-taut boob-globe of the mighty heroine.
Yet,
centimetre by centimetre, the breast was more and more compressed between the
instruments’ relentlessly moving jaws.
Power Girl’s gloved hands were shaking as she held the slabs aloft. The
metal jaws sank into her teat further and deeper and she gave a low groan of
pain, the sound getting louder as a single tear formed in those blue eyes and spilled
down her cheek. The drop splashed on the contorted roundness of her crushed tit
and ran on down her body.
’So soon?` Moon remarked mockingly, watching the single tear running down past
her nipple.
‘Damn
you' she whispered, voice tight with pain and anger.
The Doctor continued to grunt with the strain
of holding the tit between the jaws. ‘Perhaps we should...try...heat next...'
he said, voice happy despite the exertion required.
‘Excellent
idea, Doctor!’ Moon said, taking up a blowtorch from a nearby table and
switching on the gas while lighting a match.
As the blue flame shot out of the nozzle, he began slowly approaching Power
Girl with the fiendish device. ‘Its
old-fashioned, I know!’ he said, almost apologizing to his victim. ‘but I
sometimes prefer efficiency before instrumental neatness!’
Karen
glared at the torch, not even able to feel the heat but knowing she would feel
it when the flame touched her skin. Sweating hard she stood trembling, not
trusting her voice not to betray the fear she was feeling, the horror.
‘Do it Moon!'
the Doctor laughed from behind his mask. Keeping her tit firmly clamped he
leaned forwards to whisper at his exquisite captive. ‘Get ready to feel
something wonderful, slut.’
Moon
moved the torch nearer and nearer to Karen’s breasts. He intended to spare her
already crushed tit and aimed at the other fleshy orb. She watched, anger and
fear in her eyes. The little Asian sadist felt himself breathing hard, his
scientific curiosity being overpowered by the prospect of simply torturing this
gorgeous woman who could not die.
He moved
the torch closer, closer...his gaze switching between the apprehensive look on
her sweaty face and the slightly quivering breast of hers, awaiting the pain. The
blue flame approached her bosom, menacingly. then the tip of the fire licked at
her perk, stiff nipple.
‘YAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRR!’
Power Girl shrieked in pain, as the blue
tongue danced on her tit-tip, its arrow-like shape being split by her nipple
bud....making the fire surround her burning areole. The steel above vibrated
non stop as her body spasmed, only her mighty will stopping her from dropping
the huge mass of steel and protecting herself. She was forced, by her own
courage and nobility, to stand helplessly and let this be done to her. A
never-ceasing whine of agony bubbled from her red lips as her head was buried
against one powerful arm, tears stinging her cheeks.
Moon
licked his lip anew, as he slowly, so ever slowly, moved the fluttering fire
over her round, firm breast-orb. He circled her nipple, then widening the
movements over her tit-tip...and slowly, with maddening patience moving the
torch around her breast in increasing circles. Rigid as a statue, her entire
physique bulging with tension, Karen dug her fingers into the metal slabs, sobbing
in agony.
Like a
ghoul, Moon tittered as he worked his way from the tip of her tit way down to
the bases of her meaty orb. The pain was horrifying, beyond comprehension.
Unable to resist any longer she snapped.
'FUCK' she shrieked, howling in
agony. ‘OH FUCK… AAAAAARRRRRR…
BASTARDS…FUCKYOU…AAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!’
Moon now
held the torch upwards, right underneath her swelling tit-cone the woman trembling in pain and misery, as he
boiled her tit from below. On the other side the Crime Doctor pulled his vice
around and stretched its captive boob across, the massive orb having enough
size to be dragged over so that is inner wall was washed by the fire as well.
‘AAAAAAAAAA…AAAAAAAA…AAAAAGODOHGODOHGOOOOD!’
Moon
obligingly let the heat wash over both tits, back and forth. He pushed the torch forward so that the fire
gushed between the twin hills of pleasure.
‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!’
Then he
slowly began working his way back...circling her breasts at their base and burning
the surfaces with smaller and smaller circles up towards the crest. Karen
screamed her throat raw as the Amazon prisoners gave muffled howls or rage. The
young woman tits shook and sweat cascaded from her breasts, soaking her costume
and pooling on the floor between her booted feet. Her blonde hair was draped in
matted stands over her lovely, pain stretched face.
With
pure evil in his heart the villain pushed the opening of the blowtorch right on
top of her clamped nipple, the flame fanning out around indestructible flesh. Karen shook her head wildly as her tortured
chest-peaks danced, the Crime Doctor using the vice to push the anguished pink
bud against the metal opening. Both men too entranced by her pain to notice the
steel above them shuddering just as violently.
Deep in an abyss of pain Karen knew the two
Amazons were wondering if the alien girl could hold out or if she would break
and release the weights crushing them both. She knew that both women would tell
her to do it in a heartbeat. They would willingly sacrifice themselves to give
her the chance for escape, for vengeance.
But she couldn’t – even if they were ready to die, she wasn’t ready to
let them. Which meant all she could do was stand here and burn, her tit so full
of pain if felt like it must be ready to burst like an overcooked egg, burst
and spill out all over the floor in a shower of blood and charred flesh. But it didn’t, it couldn’t. The agony and horror went on and on and all
she could do was scream. Scream, and cry, and scream until she could not
remember a time when she was not screaming while her breasts were tortured
beyond endurance. Every inch of her powerful tit was saturated in agony, burning
deep into her so that the twin mountains of her womanliness were made into
bubbling cauldrons of seething nightmare anguish in which she was being roasted
alive.
Moon
withdrew the torch and sighed in pleasure.
‘I hope
it was as interesting for you as it was for us, slut!’ he said as Karen’s head
fell forward, her sobs echoing around the room. Moon sneered, extinguishing the torch.
Meanwhile the Doctor released his own hold and reached forward to run his hand
over the place where the flesh had been washed by the blue flame.
'Not
even warm,' he said. 'Why, with this sort of immunity to physical damage, this
experiment could last indefinitely.’
Moon
stooped over to look into Karen’s tear streaked face. ‘What do you say, Power
Girl – shall we continue?’ But a soft panting was his only reply.
‘Silence
construes consent,’ said the Asian, straightening.
‘This is
a great day for science,’ answered the star-spectacled torturer.
Part 6
Diana
‘The American is in a tight spot now, Mein Herr,’ commented the Nazi blonde.
Savage smiled at the irony. Diana had endured over an hour of the electrocution torture, stoically refusing be broken. The immortal was not surprised – this was Wonder Woman, after all. Even plunged into this simulation that left her bereft of her extraordinary powers, she was still probably the strongest, toughest mortal woman on Earth. Which was why he had decided a change of tactics was in order.
With the wooden scaffold removed during her latest lapse in consciousness, the Amazon had been perched in the middle of the room on a small, thick-legged table that was about four three feet high and two feet square. She was fully nude except for her tiara and her high red boots, the latter positioned to the side of the table. They had positioned her on her haunches, her knees pulled up about her shoulders and held in place by thick and tightly tied ropes than went around her legs above her sharply bent knees and then passed about her shins. Her hands were tied behind her with her wrists and elbows touching, pulling her shoulders back and making her full breasts push out between her legs and she crouched in the bondage.
Diana let her head hang forward a little with her black hair spilling down about her shoulders and down her back. Her nipples felt raw from the endless shocks of the electrodes. With her arms behind her tied to another cord pulled up the a roof beam she was made to lean forward, taking most of her weight on her toes while her shapely backside was outthrust behind her. Yet another length of rope had been used to make a gag that pulled cruelly at the corners of her sensuous mouth, her teeth clamped about the cord as she made miniscule adjustments to her balance.
Savage strolled in front of his prisoner, unbuttoning the front of his black uniform jacket to reveal the white shirt underneath. The heroine did not look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on a point on the far wall.
The man in charge stopped and regarded his prisoner. He had decided to administer this first part of the ‘hands on’ abuse personally. He felt a slight thrill at the thought of what he was about to do the incredible body trussed in front of him, something he had not experienced for the better part of a century.
"So, Amazon, we going to go on with your torture in a different way. Are you comfortable?" The blonde woman smiled as she watched Diana’s superb muscles flexing in the bonds. The raven-haired prisoner grimaced, unable to answer now - somehow that small difference of not being able to speak increased her sense of powerlessness threefold. Instead she breathed, her doubled over position putting pressure on her diaphragm that made taking a breath difficult
The villain held out a hand and one of his simulated subordinates stepped up and placed a wooden truncheon into it, a foot and a half of polished stained black wood almost two inches thick. It made an audible slap as it was placed into his palm. He curled his fingers around it with deliberate purpose and came in front of the blue-eyed beauty, twisting the instrument in his grasp as he surveyed her bondage.
Diana felt the end of the stick come up under her chin and force her head upwards. With his arm extended Savage looked at her swelling breasts, both dampened by sweat brought on by the stricture of her restraint. The immortal knew that just the tightness of the ropes and then never-ending tension on her arms and the muscles of her thighs legs would be painful, but Diana showed no weakness. She looked down her nose at him as if she were in total control. Her nostrils flared a little as she breathed in and out.
Savage let his arm drop, and her chin came down. She shifted her balance again, tiny waddling moves so unlike her usual grace.
Without a word or sign of warning Savage struck out with the club, driving the end hard into Diana’s midsection. The wood sank slightly into the smooth skin until it encountered the resistance of her tensed abdominals. A louder exhale from her nose was the only sign of any pain it caused the Amazon woman. She rocked backwards from the impact but steadied herself, the pair of full tits with their round nipples quivering gently.
Savage leered at her. He moved the clubs end to push her teat-globe gently from side to side, feeling the resistance of the firm flesh through the wooden shaft. Diana felt her breasts being nudged and prodded and wheezed angrily as his arm with truncheon drew back.
The next blow fell full in the middle of her left breast, driving the boob inwards as the pain battered her womanly chest mound. Her tit sprang back instantly but the suffering surged back and forth through her bruised orb, like steel weights pressing down on it. Before she could try to push past the pain the club was driving into her other tit, the pain arcing up along her neck and down into her belly.
The pounding with the wooden club went on
and on. Diana could feel her breasts
throbbing harder and harder as the tender meat was force to soak up more and
more abuse. Her nipples felt as if they
were the size of peaches, while her boobs hung from her chest like spheres of
lead. When he paused she drew in deep
gasping breaths that made her discoloured mammaries shake. Sometimes her head
hung forward, eyes open and lips pressed together except when the red curves
parted to let out a panting moan. Other time she let her head fall back, so
that the breasts being battered were drawn high and tight, the nipple in the
middle of the soft hill and her ribs standing our under them, inviting hard
agonizing cracks from the black shaft.
Throughout the ordeal her doubled over legs were straining uselessly against
the ropes, muscles so tight the men could see every tendon and ligament under
the perfect skin.
Savage beat her breasts and belly for five minutes, the sound of wood against flesh loud in the concrete room. Sweat spattered from the gorgeous heroines buxom curves as the black stick battered her helpless body. The whir and ‘thunk!’ sounded over and over again.
By the end of his assault Diana hung in the ropes coughing and gasping, her body from her hips to her shoulders a patchwork of darkening bruises. Her insides behind her sheath of abdominal muscle felt like churning jelly and her breasts seemed to have doubled in mass as they hung battered and shuddering from her chest. The soldiers watched her body moving slightly under the lights, the thrust of her ass giving an excellent view of her intimate regions behind
"Should we use something for your genitals now, Diana?” Savage allowed himself the luxury of his own inspection of her derriere, the soft pink slit poised softly between the curving cheeks. “Maybe the iron weight?" he asked her, narrowing his eyes as he inspected her womanhood more closely. At this range he could see every perfect fold of that sweet flesh. Pulling back he looked at her face to also see her rage. It bubbled like molten rock, seeking any sign of weakness that would allow it to be released. She shook her head, eyes full of anger. Behind her back her muscles strained and her fingers twitched.
"Oh yes, I think this will hurt you, Princess. And give us the obedience which the Reich deserves," he added.
Unable to respond, Diana pulled her head straighter, shifting her balance again. She was still in anguish from the beating to her womanly chest and her sculpted midsection, but now her mind was subconsciously drawn to the feeling of the cool air on her exposed womanhood, make it tingle gently. The noble Amazon panted loudly around the gag, her battered stomach moving with each breath.
One of the men bound a weight at the end of a thick rope, then let it hang in front of her. Diana watched his moves closely. The weight was big as the soldiers fist, several pounds of solid metal with studs across its surface. Savage felt his anticipation rising as he watched the man bring the weight into position behind the woman prisoner, standing a few feet back so that the arc of the instrument swing would let it strike with cruel force.
He looked at the captive, noting the heroine’s every flicker of passion. He stood watching her from the side, so that he would be able to see both the impact of the metal ball and the reaction of her body and face. The way she would deal with this torture was particularly interesting to the immortal. No high tech gadgets or neural pain here. This was a far less sophisticated form of pain – simple and brutal.
“Mein Herr, we have the right length," the blonde said, also watching the preparation. Her nipples showed proud and erect through her shirt as her eyes glittered with the excitement of seeing another woman’s pussy beaten to a bloody pulp. Most especially this haughty slut.
The merciless metal moved behind the bound body of the hated Wonder Woman. Diana closed her eyes, bracing herself. She felt her muscular form taught, her sex tensed. Her tongue moved in her mouth as she struggled against the rope gag. The bruised breasts trembled perceptibly as she took a breath, held it, then let it out to draw in another. Sweat went running in diamond waterfalls down the backs of her powerful thighs.
At a signal from Savage, the soldier swung the weight and let it whistle towards her. Every eye watched for the Wonder Woman’s reaction, as for the first time she felt the Aryan steel crushed into the warm pink target of her cunt.
Part 7
Artemis
In the cell, the White Magician ceased his muttered incantation and turned to the two men who had just strung up the cursing, red-tressed Amazon by her feet. The mercenaries had been busy with their knives and greedy hands, and the only piece of clothing now left her were the band tying back her hair and the lower part of her boots. With her ankles attached to chains hung from the ceiling, her feet were splayed almost four feet apart, forming a V shape with her neatly trimmed pubis as the bottom-most point. Her hands remained bound behind her while her head hovered three feet off the ground so that just the ends of her fiery locks swept the flags beneath. Looking at the effect her inversion had on her ample chest and savouring the memory of that splendid form as they had stripped her, the pair of mercenaries shifted restlessly, clearly eager for more work.
'These men volunteered for this duty,’ the deceased sorcerer was saying. ‘I can’t say I blame them. They know that there is no turning back of course, unless you feel like being more cooperative?'
Artemis sneered. The Magician smiled and gestured towards the guards, making signs of power as he spoke in an unknown tongue.
Almost instantly, the men began to change. Their clothes swelled as their bodies expanded, muscles rippling and flesh turning from pink to deep crimson. Their masks tore to reveal faces no longer human but leering, bestial. Yellow eyes roved Artemis nearly nude form as they grew still more, their last shred of clothing tearing away.
The sight revealed to the Amazon was monstrous; massively proportioned bodies, each seven feet tall and rippling with strength. The fiends hands ended in wicked claws. Their mouths were full of slavering fangs, and their male members, grossly excited by Artemis’ bondage, jutted a good nine inches from their hairless crotch, twitching down their blood red three-inch girth.
The warrior maintained her composure and looked in disdain at the two figures. `So? Two male worms showing their true foul appearance. What’s next? Letting them jump through rings and dance for our entertainment?`
The beast-men looked at her defenceless, magnificent physique. Their forked, snake-like tongues flicking in and out between their sharp fangs. One of the figures smiled and spoke in guttural tones - 'Keep talking bitch, we want your tongue warmed up for later!'
Grinning along with the hell-spawn, the dead Magician gestured again. From a swirl of light and smoke a table sprang into being, lined with tools whose very shape spoke of pain and suffering.
One of the creatures lumbered over, reaching for a bone handled whip. As he raised it, Artemis could see the wicked barbs along the leathers six-foot length. He leered at her, letting it snake over her naked belly. The curving points tugged at her taut skin as the whip was drawn over her stomach and the woman felt the scratches on her smooth abdomen. She suppressed her instinctive shudder while the other creature picking up a pair of hideous looking pliers. The insides of the tongs covered with numerous blunt spikes, placed in such way that they glided neatly into place besides each other when the jaws were closed.
‘I’ll be going now,’ the damned soul of the sorcerer said, as his foul accomplices edged closer to the hanging body of the Amazon. ‘My brave Amazon, I can only hope this session will seem like it could go on for eternity. Have the goodness to scream loudly, dear. Hell is a long way.’ He glanced over at the tongs and whip. ‘Well, maybe not that far.’ And with a laugh he dissolved back into the mystic pattern from which he had sprung.
Artemis watched him return to his damnation, then turned her gaze back to the two remaining fiends. The fierce warrior-woman’s green eyes shone with hatred at the demon men, and she spat savagely. ‘Maybe you hadn’t heard; I´m an Amazon. We don’t concern ourselves with trifling pain!’ She spoke with a cold voice, but behind her her fingers twitched nervously.
‘We believe you,’ snarled the whip demon, and let the lash fly out.
The whip struck her across the small of her back, the barbs instantly tearing at her flesh. The force drove her forwards and she felt a wave of dizziness as her body moved in space, the blood now starting to the pound in her ears as it rushed to her head.
SW-ACK!
Artemis struggled to free her hands. She was unable to stop the swinging of her body, which birthed its own pain in her ankles and calves because her whole weight was resting on the iron cuffs circling her feet. The monsters watched her swaying, excited to see the sweat starting to flow from her awesome figure. Then with a vile laugh it sent the barbed whip coiling around her long legs between her hips and kneels, the length snaking around her limbs as the points bit deep into her muscles.
‘Damned Bastard!’ she shouted at them, and her voice was thick with pain and hate. As she struggled the whip was hauled back so that pieces of meat were ripped from her beautiful legs.
‘AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!’
Blood flew from the wounds and went spattering against the walls, the terrible injuries leaving chunks of flesh hanging from her long limbs. It dribbled down between her legs and dripped into her face so she could taste the metal flavour of anguish. It seeped between her sex lips. Aided by the tiny drops of sweat it ran down into her navel.
CRAAAAACK
This time it flayed the skin from her calves, making her stiffen from the waist down and give a shrill cry of suffering. The whip ripped of more flesh from her strong body and sent her to a place of horrible agony. Through tear-wet eyes she could see the other beast stopping down to pick up some of the strips of flesh from her legs, eating some pieces of her skin. She shook her head in disgust, thrashing helplessly as she tried to free herself and fight back. The Amazon fought for leverage, arching her back so her tits pointed to the ground.
The foul beast stepped back as the second monstrosity reached down with a hideous claw and seized on one of those perfect orbs, hauling her up by one of her breasts. Artemis eyes went wide with pain, the talons on the long fingers digging deep into her meat of her tit. Her mouth was open but no sound escaped, held helpless in the grip of the horror and feeling like he was tearing her breast away from her body. More streams of red blood coursed down her neck and fell like raindrops onto the dirty floor.
Hoisting her long muscular torso with the one hand, the creature played with the hideous looking iron pliers, holding them up to let the woman see them clearly as she was flayed. The demon gleefully noted the numerous blunt spikes, the way that they glided neatly into place besides each other when the pliers were closed. The effect on human flesh was both horrifying and obvious. The Amazon responded to the attempt to intimidate her by spitting fearlessly at him.
The thing that had once been human was enjoying the warm red juice from her melon-like chest. Holding up the pliers closer to her agony pinched face he let her see the jaws working open and shut even as she heard the swish of the lash and she felt more flesh being torn from the back of her legs. The warrior woman gurgled in pain as the tears wet her cheeks.
"This is the real way to be celebrating a meal, and today you´re the meat for the banquet," the demon laughed with arousal in his voice. Artemis gave a short angry scream in the demons grip, and then a more drawn out sound of agony as the pliers settled in the crook of her armpit, just where the tit curved to meet her body, and began to crush into her smooth body.
While its friend began to torture her with the pliers, the other brute let the scourge rest on her belly. She steeled herself as the razor sharp barbs grazed her perfect skin, the red drops springing forth like rubies from the small wounds and mingling with the red fluid already soaking her cords of the weapon. . "Oh gods, they’re peeling the flesh from my bones" she thought as she fought to stop the panic from controlling her.
The devil raised the whip again, bringing it down on her midriff with a crack like a gunshot. The barbs again tore her flesh, drawing blood.
"SSSSSSSSSSSS!" Artemis felt the rips in her smooth abdomen and suppressed a scream.
CRACK!
“Nnnnnn!”
WHA-AACK!!
“HUNNNNNNNNNH!”
With every stroke from the vile cord pieces of skin where ripped from her smooth. Her long legs twisted, her breast not being held in a demonic claw shuddering as it hung towards her chin. The sweat of her suspension burned in the wounds like venom while she hung helpless, feeling the blood running hot down over her shoulders and dripping to the stone floor under her.
He drew back and hit her again, this time just under her ribs where they angled out from her breastbone.
“OUUUUUUgh, that was…a good one,” she grunted to the beasts, trying to cover her feelings, pretending strength.
The torturer made no reply but looked pointedly at her torn and bloodied midriff. Craning her head she could see the wound on her body healing with supernatural speed, the raggedly slicked flesh drawing together even as she watched.
Artemis felt a terrible wave of despair wash over her as the significance of the Magicians final taunt came home. The truth was she was already feeling herself taxed by the slivers of meat being torn out of her, and the mystical healing did not in any way dull the pain of her torture. Deep in her mind she remembered her time in hell, how long it had taken before she accepted the Demon Lords ‘generous offer’. She had always told herself that it had been her choice and not that they had broken her, but Artemis was enough of a warrior to know that everyone did have a breaking point. Sooner or later.
The aberration with the tongs mauled her sensitive flesh between arm and body, pulping and crushing with exquisite cruelty. The pain from having her body ground to barely solid meat was awful, and wordless sounds of bitter pain were dragged from her throat and lips. The without warning the beast released both the tongs and its clawed hold on her tit, letting her drop until she stopped with a sudden jerk, hanging head down from her chains.
There was another impact of leather and barbs against her belly, her body swaying back as she tensed from the pain. She felt the blood again, this time warm and sticky as it ran over her inverted tits. But not so much as she would have thought. Gritting her teeth her anger filled eyes locked with the whip wielder as the he paused, ready to strike again. " Is…that…all which… you can bring ?" she breathed contemptuously.
'We got all the time in the world, cunt,' the demons laughed. Hanging before them Artemis felt the awful pain of the flaying fading slowly.
‘My brave Amazon, I can only hope this session will seem like it could go on for eternity.’ The White Magician’s words sounded like plague bells in her memory.
The red haired warrior kept her breathing deep and steady as she fought back the despair and the helplessness. She made her answer her stony features as the whip bit again, shredding the skin right over her stomach and causing a gagging moan to seep from between her lips. The monster left the lash coiled around her waist for a moment before using its strength to pull it back over her flayed body. As the barbs hooked in the flesh and then tore free she jerked hard in the chains, legs stiff and back arched ."Shhhhhhit ," she bit out, her teeth grinding as she struggled to focused herself on her inner power.
A huge demon cock rose up in front of her face as the creature carrying the pincers moved around in front of her. It looked down at her over the top of her full, red stained breasts, then kneeled down so that its face was level with those proud orbs and its erection angled out between its legs and up under her head, pushing into her long red hair as it hung down to the floor. The smell of evil and untapped male sex made her gag.
Hauling her round the creature pushed the tongs into her other armpit, trapping her flesh between the spike-covered steel plates and then crushed it viciously. The woman trembled as blood welled up around the jaws and her face twisted in pain. As before the body at this point was especially sensitive to stimulation since it so rarely received any, and the flesh so near her tender breasts being crushed mercilessly. But this time she pressed her lips to a thin line and remained silent.
SWACK SWACK! Shreds of smooth skin were flayed from the captive’s tight ass. The demon stepped close and licked some of the blood from her torn buttocks, its icy drool running down over her backside’s ravaged curves.
After what seemed like hours of grinding the pliers again let go, only to descend on her left breast. Waiting, she twitched on the torture frame, eyes moistened shamefully. The whip was hitting her again, so that blood reddened spilled from rents in her skin and stained her lovely suspended body.
Taking its time the second creature licked his sharp teeth and as the pliers began closing about the skin surrounding her proud, strutting nipple. Without needing to see she felt the pliers descend on her upended boob, forcing herself to be looking away as it began to close, tighter and tighter so that the monsters could see her tit peak bulging up like a balloon.
SWACK!
WHAP!
CRACK!
The barbs were alternating between her belly and buttocks, ripping them over and over while sweat went running down her body so that is shone like polished glass. Her midriff was a mass to torn skin and pain as she spasmed with every blow. Her legs were as tight as steel cables and the blood running down between her breasts dripped onto her lips as she hung grimacing in pain.
Artemis could feel the blood flowing hot down over her shoulders and dripping to the floor. Whip-boy drew back and hit her again, this time just under her ribs where they angled out from her sternum, the pain tearing at the sensitive underside of her breasts. Then is brought the whip down in an overhead stroke, catching the terrible points in the meat of her inside leg, less than a foot from her vulnerable sex.
CR-ACKKKK
Below the carnage wrought against her thighs, the iron tongs were still closing around her entire tit-tip...crushing her nipple flat between the vicious teeth. The crushing pressure was sending waves of terrible pain into her breast and chest, so that she jerked like an inverted marionette, her teeth clenched as she heaved in her bonds.
'Ggggggggnnnnnnnnnrrrrrrrrr' she moaned. The pain went on and on, her nipple being ground to pulp. Then the pliers began to twist...twisting her nubbin around cruelly, actually threatening to tear the bloody piece of meat from her proud tit. The demon operating the vile instrument giggled in vicious glee while tears ran down her face and she twisted fitfully, thrashing silently and almost accomplishing the bloody deed herself.
Suddenly, the pressure stopped and the pain at the tip of her mammary began to ease. A huge hand grabbed her head, pulling it up to look up at her injuries.
Artemis blinked, forcing herself to look. Once again horrific injuries to her body were already healing, the wounds closing and the awful bruised lump of meat that had been her nipple returning to gradually to its right shape and colour. The awful pain was receding again, though it still hammered at her as she hung by her feet.
“Such are the ways of hell,” chuckled the tongs demon.
Having been excited by the smell of female blood the whip demon began going faster, twirling the cords in circles against the lovely target hanging in front of him and letting the woman warrior feel her skin starting to peel away from her midsection in bloody strips. No sooner had the barbs laid open her muscles and sinew to the air than the horrible wounds began healing. Artemis twisted and shook in her bondage, her voice a whine of tight-lipped anguish as her legs bunched with muscles and her ample tits wobbled shining in the torchlight. Even as they were made and the pain coursed through her like liquid fire she felt the skin pulling together, the tears in her body mending lest blood loss end her life and her pain.
It took only a few minutes of concentrated effort for the creature with the whip to turn every inch of her midriff into a bloody wound. The red liquid soaked the leather cords and sprayed the grinning fiends so that they licked it from their lips and faces. Artemis breasts were soaked in her own ichor and it fell in drops from her upended tits.
On the other side of the inverted Amazon the thing that had been human once leaned back so it could enjoy the sight of her perfect ass tense hard with each bloody stroke. Every inch of this woman was a testament to sex, from the way her tapering legs jerked and shook as the pain ripped at her to the fierce gasps and grunts of pain from her cherry lips. Her utter contempt only made her a more sexually splendid target for their lust fuelled violence.
The demon whipping her shifted his attack again to the small of her back, and Artemis felt the skin over her curving spine being cut to meaty shreds. She bent like a bow being strung, chin aimed at the floor and belly hollowed as the red blood covering her stomach began to congeal slowly to a sticky dark syrup.
Positioned in front of her the second devil went to work with this dark iron tool, making her grit her teeth even harder as the pliers once more worked around her breasts. With slow and deliberate cruelty he set about methodically mauling the boobs curving grace, pinching, twisting, and crushing. Tears spilled from her savage, wide eyes as she felt the iron pulping her orbs bit by bit, nerves and flesh mashed between the metal jaws as she hung helpless to save herself. The crack of the whip sounded endlessly in the stone chamber, wet and vicious. The pained gasps and stifled cries of the warrior woman mingled with the eager hissing breath of the torturers.
With a chuckling growl the second creature dug the pliers deep into the wonderfully inverted mellon and pulled hard at her tit, twisting it quick and hard, and that pliant hemisphere at last reached its limit. The tongs jerked back, tearing out a chunk of skin and fat the size of a ball bearing and leaving a ragged hole in the bruised surface of Artemis’ breast.
‘YYYYYAAAAAAAAARRRRRR!!!’
Interlude
Oracle sat working through the millions of lines of code protecting the Amazons’ computer network, easily the most sophisticated system she had encountered that was native to planet Earth.
The task was enormous, but for all the obvious effort she was putting into the problem, the red haired cyber guru was devoting less than 50% of her mental abilities to cracking the Themyscrian operating system. The balance was being channelled into finding a way to turn the tables of their captors.
Barbara still did not know how they had
made a connection between her and Canary and Huntress. True Dinah did not wear a mask while in
costume and anyone could have seen them lunching together in
That’s
it, Barbara, keep your mind occupied on the problem. Don’t think about what they did to Dinah and Helena, what their probably doing to
them right now…
Oracle closed her eyes and pushed those thoughts away. She had to hold the horror at arms length if she was ever to find a way out of this for all of them. Later there would be time to fall apart.
The whole situation seemed incongruent with the facts. The Amazons defensive network was the most advanced on the planet after that of the Justice League’s own watchtower on the Moon, yet somehow Savage and Deathstoke had marched an entire army of mercenaries and super-villains right up to the warrior-women’s door and knocked, without being detected.
And where was the Justice League? Themyscria must have been out of contact for days now, and yet no one from the outside world seemed to have noticed, much less done anything about it. Some of the best minds on Earth were gathered here at any given time, not to mention the female heroines that had travelled here at Diana’s request. Someone from the League or the Justice Society should have been aware of a problem within hours, but there had been nothing!
The more Barbara wrestled with the problem the more she became convinced that it made no sense. There was much more to what was happening than appeared on the surface, and she was sure that defeating their enemies meant finding out what.
Abruptly her programming gained her access to some of the internal security net. Barbara did not even blink and eye, shunting the input to a console whose data she had encrypted in the first half hour of her work. To her captors it would seem she was studying still more of the Amazons encoded data, allowing her to search without arousing suspicion.
Still manipulating the software to access
their Themyscrian database, the
She was sickened but not surprised to see that most were naked.
Steeling herself, Barbara adjusted the feed to zoom in on one of the subjects, a brown haired woman with a classically beautiful face. There were wires running from the electronics next to her frame to the space between her legs, shadowed by the torn remains of her shift. She was writhing slowly. Her body sweated profusely, making the torn material cling to her so closely he might as well have been nude. Her full breasts rose and fell sharply, and the look on her face…
Barbara forced herself not to register her shock. She had been prepared to see the look of pain, horror, even despair. Anything but this!
***
‘Time to come with us, pretty girl,’ Houngan told Starfire.
The black man stood under the detention area lights, gleaming black chest bare in his plunging white tunic and his silver mask with its wild red crest adorning his broad face and shoulders. From his belt hung the techno-fetishes that allowed him to use the merest sample of a victims DNA to cause excruciating pain, a modern day witch-doctor. Frills adorned his sleeves and boot-tops, giving his clothes a tribal look.
Next to him the Frenchman known as Warp stood at ease in a full golden body suit. Unlike the heavily muscled man next to him the only flesh of Warp’s in sight was the oval of his face, peering from a wide round helmet that attached seamlessly to his shoulders and upper back, like a polished metal hood.
Koriand’r looked out at the men gathered outside the cell as if studying some particularly repugnant form of pond life. The costumed villains stood there frankly admiring her charms within her revealing purple armour, the full contours of her golden body. They were smiling and clearly enjoying the look of the disgust in the fiery alien’s glowing all-green eyes .
‘Hey, leave her the hell alone,’ Dinah called from the nearby cell she was sharing with Huntress, who still lay unconscious on the floor after their shared ordeal. Truth be told she could barely stand herself after the session in the electro-shock machine, but she was damned if she were going to stand by idle while these filth had their way with the young Titan.
‘Patience Black Canary,’ the short but slender Warp sneered. The French villain’s slender moustache twitched with pleasure as he eye-balled the feisty blonde street fighter. The blades of the torture machine in which she had and her partner had suffered had done a thorough job of shredding her black costume, and now all that was left to the short blonde was her boots and black neck choker. He liked the way she made no attempt to hide her breasts or the tuft of gold between her legs. It was clear there would be much amusement to be had before the spirited American was broken in. ‘We’ll be wanting some time with you soon enough. For now, its Starfire’s turn to play.’
‘No,’ said Donna, getting to her feet and standing in the tattered remains of her red body suit. Her boots clacked on the floor as she strode up to the clear wall of the cell, facing the men outside. Koriand’r made a move to push her dark haired friend back, but the Amazon brushed her away.
‘Themyscria is my homeland, not Starfire’s. She has no information to help you with whatever you’re looking for.’ Donna’s beautiful face, framed by her flowing black tresses, was a mask of determination. ‘Whatever you want to know, you want it from me.’
Watching, the Canary was both impressed and alarmed. The latter came from the fact that she was sure Donna was right – these sick freaks might be happy getting their kicks hurting captive women, but Dinah was sure there was much more to this situation than a sadistic pleasure jaunt. Savage and Deathstroke were after something from the Amazons all right, and no matter what they were all better off if they were delayed as long as possible from finding it.
On the other hand, Dinah couldn’t help but admire Donna’s courage. As someone who had far too much experience with the horror of torture, she knew how the dark haired Titan would be feeling like she was stuffed with broken glass after her ordeal, but she still put her friends well being first, even as Starfire was prepared to do for her. If there had been any doubt these two young women were heroes, it was certainly gone now.
‘You too will have your turn again soon enough, my sweet,’ Warp said with a smile that was anything but friendly. ‘But every moment you keep us waiting will only make us more impatient and Starfire’s experience more…intense.’
Koriand’r put her hands on Donna’s shoulders and turned her comrade to face her. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said with a lioness’ courage. Behind her Warp opened a shimmering portal of yellow light inside the cell. Without another word or backward glance Starfire stepped through it, and the opening in space sealed itself with a flare of bright light.
‘Well, adieu for now, mon petites,’ Warp said with a wave, and Houngan laughed in a baritone rumble. Another opening appeared in front of them, and as Donna and the Canary watched they stepped through. Before it closed though, Warp’s head appeared again, looking back at the blonde’s cell. ‘We shall give your regards to the Huntress when she awakes, cheri,’ he said with a wink.
Dinah stood uncomprehending for a moment, then a light flared behind her. Eyes wide she whirled to find Huntress had vanished, another of Warp’s accursed portals winking out of existence in the space where the black haired vigilante had lain.
Swearing luridly Dinah spun back to face Warp, but only empty air was left outside the cells to hear her cry of rage.
Interlude
Oracle sat working through the millions of lines of code protecting the Amazons’ computer network, easily the most sophisticated system she had encountered that was native to planet Earth.
The task was enormous, but for all the obvious effort she was putting into the problem, the red haired cyber guru was devoting less than 50% of her mental abilities to cracking the Themyscrian operating system. The balance was being channelled into finding a way to turn the tables of their captors.
Barbara still did not know how they had
made a connection between her and Canary and Huntress. True Dinah did not wear a mask while in
costume and anyone could have seen them lunching together in
That’s
it, Barbara, keep your mind occupied on the problem. Don’t think about what
they did to Dinah and Helena, what their probably doing to them right now…
Oracle closed her eyes and pushed those thoughts away. She had to hold the horror at arms length if she was ever to find a way out of this for all of them. Later there would be time to fall apart.
The whole situation seemed incongruent with the facts. The Amazons defensive network was the most advanced on the planet after that of the Justice League’s own watchtower on the Moon, yet somehow Savage and Deathstoke had marched an entire army of mercenaries and super-villains right up to the warrior-women’s door and knocked, without being detected.
And where was the Justice League? Themyscria must have been out of contact for days now, and yet no one from the outside world seemed to have noticed, much less done anything about it. Some of the best minds on Earth were gathered here at any given time, not to mention the female heroines that had travelled here at Diana’s request. Someone from the League or the Justice Society should have been aware of a problem within hours, but there had been nothing!
The more Barbara wrestled with the problem the more she became convinced that it made no sense. There was much more to what was happening than appeared on the surface, and she was sure that defeating their enemies meant finding out what.
Abruptly her programming gained her access to some of the internal security net. Barbara did not even blink and eye, shunting the input to a console whose data she had encrypted in the first half hour of her work. To her captors it would seem she was studying still more of the Amazons encoded data, allowing her to search without arousing suspicion.
Still manipulating the software to access
their Themyscrian database, the
She was sickened but not surprised to see that most were naked.
Steeling herself, Barbara adjusted the feed to zoom in on one of the subjects, a brown haired woman with a classically beautiful face. There were wires running from the electronics next to her frame to the space between her legs, shadowed by the torn remains of her shift. She was writhing slowly. Her body sweated profusely, making the torn material cling to her so closely he might as well have been nude. Her full breasts rose and fell sharply, and the look on her face…
Barbara forced herself not to register her shock. She had been prepared to see the look of pain, horror, even despair. Anything but this!
***
‘Time to come with us, pretty girl,’ Houngan told Starfire.
The black man stood under the detention area lights, gleaming black chest bare in his plunging white tunic and his silver mask with its wild red crest adorning his broad face and shoulders. From his belt hung the techno-fetishes that allowed him to use the merest sample of a victims DNA to cause excruciating pain, a modern day witch-doctor. Frills adorned his sleeves and boot-tops, giving his clothes a tribal look.
Next to him the Frenchman known as Warp stood at ease in a full golden body suit. Unlike the heavily muscled man next to him the only flesh of Warp’s in sight was the oval of his face, peering from a wide round helmet that attached seamlessly to his shoulders and upper back, like a polished metal hood.
Koriand’r looked out at the men gathered outside the cell as if studying some particularly repugnant form of pond life. The costumed villains stood there frankly admiring her charms within her revealing purple armour, the full contours of her golden body. They were smiling and clearly enjoying the look of the disgust in the fiery alien’s glowing all-green eyes .
‘Hey, leave her the hell alone,’ Dinah called from the nearby cell she was sharing with Huntress, who still lay unconscious on the floor after their shared ordeal. Truth be told she could barely stand herself after the session in the electro-shock machine, but she was damned if she were going to stand by idle while these filth had their way with the young Titan.
‘Patience Black Canary,’ the short but slender Warp sneered. The French villain’s slender moustache twitched with pleasure as he eye-balled the feisty blonde street fighter. The blades of the torture machine in which she had and her partner had suffered had done a thorough job of shredding her black costume, and now all that was left to the short blonde was her boots and black neck choker. He liked the way she made no attempt to hide her breasts or the tuft of gold between her legs. It was clear there would be much amusement to be had before the spirited American was broken in. ‘We’ll be wanting some time with you soon enough. For now, its Starfire’s turn to play.’
‘No,’ said Donna, getting to her feet and standing in the tattered remains of her red body suit. Her boots clacked on the floor as she strode up to the clear wall of the cell, facing the men outside. Koriand’r made a move to push her dark haired friend back, but the Amazon brushed her away.
‘Themyscria is my homeland, not Starfire’s. She has no information to help you with whatever you’re looking for.’ Donna’s beautiful face, framed by her flowing black tresses, was a mask of determination. ‘Whatever you want to know, you want it from me.’
Watching, the Canary was both impressed and alarmed. The latter came from the fact that she was sure Donna was right – these sick freaks might be happy getting their kicks hurting captive women, but Dinah was sure there was much more to this situation than a sadistic pleasure jaunt. Savage and Deathstroke were after something from the Amazons all right, and no matter what they were all better off if they were delayed as long as possible from finding it.
On the other hand, Dinah couldn’t help but admire Donna’s courage. As someone who had far too much experience with the horror of torture, she knew how the dark haired Titan would be feeling like she was stuffed with broken glass after her ordeal, but she still put her friends well being first, even as Starfire was prepared to do for her. If there had been any doubt these two young women were heroes, it was certainly gone now.
‘You too will have your turn again soon enough, my sweet,’ Warp said with a smile that was anything but friendly. ‘But every moment you keep us waiting will only make us more impatient and Starfire’s experience more…intense.’
Koriand’r put her hands on Donna’s shoulders and turned her comrade to face her. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said with a lioness’ courage. Behind her Warp opened a shimmering portal of yellow light inside the cell. Without another word or backward glance Starfire stepped through it, and the opening in space sealed itself with a flare of bright light.
‘Well, adieu for now, mon petites,’ Warp said with a wave, and Houngan laughed in a baritone rumble. Another opening appeared in front of them, and as Donna and the Canary watched they stepped through. Before it closed though, Warp’s head appeared again, looking back at the blonde’s cell. ‘We shall give your regards to the Huntress when she awakes, cheri,’ he said with a wink.
Dinah stood uncomprehending for a moment, then a light flared behind her. Eyes wide she whirled to find Huntress had vanished, another of Warp’s accursed portals winking out of existence in the space where the black haired vigilante had lain.
Swearing luridly Dinah spun back to face Warp, but only empty air was left outside the cells to hear her cry of rage.
Part VIII
Diana
Diana felt the cruel steel slam into her sex from below, driving her lips apart brutally as it ploughed into the flower of her being.
‘GGGGGGGNNNNNNNNNNNNN!’
Pain, like having a wrecking ball plough into her groin. It washed trough her like a tidal wave, radiating out to the edges of her being and then being channelled back along her nerved back to its source. She bit down on the rope against the anguish in her womanhood, blood leaking from the corners of her mouth as she trembled in the bondage.
‘You’re very tough, eh?’ the soldier chuckled. He let the weight swing forward, using the full strength of his arm. The ball whistled through the dungeon air and buried itself in her mons with a savage moist thud, making the captive woman quiver as she rested on her haunches on the small platform. Savagely he wrenched it free with a soft wet sound and hit the Amazon again, the effect of it smashing her soft vaginal flesh being that an explosion roared inside Diana again as her pussy lips were pummelled. She jerked her head side of side, grunting in outrage.
Savage signalled a pause to let the agony scream in her for long instants, slowly subsiding to a terrible aching throb. Then, at a gesture, the soldier reared and whipped it forward so that the solid metal instrument hit her again.
‘RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!’
On the fourth strike she groaned loudly, drool running down her chin. Her body twisted as much as it could, Amazon muscles straining fitfully in the unyielding bonds. Diana dragged in quick painful breaths and tried to focus her mind anywhere but between her legs.
Instead she concentrated on her tiara, or rather the one Savage had affixed to her forehead. A clever copy, its neural circuitry was producing this fantasy that she was being held by the Nazi’s in World War 2, so that Savage could use her to live out his sick little dream of having captured her mother Hippolyta as she fought alongside the allies. Its electronic impulses were being transmitted into her brain to make her see what Savage wanted her to see. Feel what he wanted her to feel.
On cue, the spiked ball whipped out, catching her as she was still wiggling on her painfully cramped legs. It went slamming into her soft flesh, but at this time he gave the weight a fast move just before it struck.
WHUD!
The metal ground wetly against her yielding twat, the power and weight of two and half pounds of solid metal impacting into soft feminine flesh. The horrible pain made her rise a six inches in her bondage. The spikes hurt her even more tearing at her as they pulled away. In the nightmare scenario small drops of blood fell onto the table beneath her.
‘GAAAAAAAARRRR!’
‘How are you feeling now?’ her torturer asked Diana with a brutal smile. His chest swelled to simulate the excitement as SS trooper would feel at the damage he was doing to this bitch enemy of the Fatherland. Two more men came forward with rubber hoses, eyes shining with anticipation.
She did not try to answer, merely shaking her head to try and clear it. When the hoses began to pound her back and kidneys she chewed on the rope to stop herself screaming again, feeling her breasts jiggle beneath her with each blow. Everything from her navel to her thighs was an anvil beaten with the hammer of suffering. She looked away from them as the metal ball started to pummel her crotch again, waves of pain running from her sweet spot into the rest of her body. The Amazon Princess felt like she was beaten with a blocks of stone that slammed into her sex again and again.
Diana pushed past the suffering enveloping her. The men and the room were illusions - only Savage was real. And the pain. The pain really was being transmitted directly to her mind, making her believe the metal ball and the hoses were really hitting her. The pain and Savage were truth, but everything else was lies, and Diana knew how to see through lies.
She struggled to keep her focus. Her body hurt, and she was tired, exhausted almost. They had been abusing her for days, with their Pacifier machine and neural whips and now this perverted fantasy. The footage of Donna raped alongside Starfire, and the memory of having to be an unwilling accomplice to the degradation of her friend Tasha and her daughter, wrapped the beautiful heroine’s mind in chains that left her barely able to function. It would have been so easy to just surrender to the pain, let it carry her off to a dark place where she could hide and have no other burden but to suffer for her masters.
But Diana was first and foremost an Amazon.
The raven-haired prisoner let her mind slip free, shedding the bonds of flesh. She had done something like this before, trapped by the paralysing toxin of the criminally insane Joker, seeking divine inspiration for a way to defeat his poison, but this was a quantum leap in difficulty. Instead of the maniacal cackling and preening of a lunatic villain, now she was contending with the physical and mental torture of days previous and the constant torment being channelled directly into her brain. The slightest slip in concentration would be enough to break the spell.
From without herself she observed her naked form trussed for the guards, rocking on the wooden platform in time to the beating from the three men who were not real. Chained with her feet perched precariously on the small wooden space, her ass was thrust out behind her, offering no protection at all for her soft sensual flesh as they beat her with the ball and chain. Her arms hauled back behind her likewise did little to protect her from the battering she was receiving from the rubber hoses. She saw her ample breasts shaking as she drew in ragged breaths, beads of sweat running down their slope to skitter about her nipple and flow down to her body or fall like nervous rain when she shook to the impact of their abuse. Where the ropes passed around either side of her knees to keep her splayed legs bent, blood was oozing down as she instinctively tried to stand up to get away from the evil thing torturing her womanhood.
Turning her minds eye away from her own plight, she saw Savage watching her torture. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, and she felt her rage seething inside her like a wild beast struggling to tear at its tormentors. Free of her earthly perspective she could truly see how much he was enjoying what was being done to her, the sick sexual thrill he experienced from causing her to suffer naked in front of him. His dark eyes glittered in time with the sounds of her beating, roving up and down over her, lingering especially on the lower regions of her body where her squatting position made her womanhood pucker lewdly as it was mashed by the steel ball.
No, that’s the trick – there is no ball, no men hitting me. With disgust, she made herself focus on Savage and herself. As she did so the details of the room began to blur…
***
‘This is dangerous,’ the first observer stated, leaning forward.
‘She is more resilient than even I expected,’ replied his counterpart, ‘and more resourceful.’ His voice carried less dread than the others and more genuine amusement.
‘We should terminate this scenario immediately,’ the first said, but the other shook his head sharply.
‘No, that will alert her for certain. There are other ways to deal with this.’
***
Diana felt her mind freeing itself of the shackles of the illusion, the men and the room around them fading. Even without her fabled golden lasso, her brief tenure as the Goddess of Truth has left her with the ability to sense lies in her presence. Normally she would require the glowing cord to compel truth to come forward, but by accessing the spiritual plane she might be able to pierce the fabrication into which she had been plunged. Her divinely granted insight into truth peered through the veil, seeking a way out of her predicament. Because one truth here was that her powers were not really gone, and if she could only find a way to access them…
Concentrating, she noticed that Savage seemed different too. His Nazi uniform began to fade, as she had expected. But then she felt there was something else strange, teasing her at the corner of her consciousness.
Abruptly pain flared in her breasts as they bulged out between her arms. Her concentration slipped for a split second, and then she was rushing back into herself, hearing her own muffled cry as the blonde Nazi woman again let the flame of the candle she held kiss her sweat drenched flesh and made it hiss angrily.
‘Pay attention, Fraulein,’ the blonde said with a grin. ‘We want this to be memorable for you.’ The men laughed and hit her again, making her jerk forward in her crouch, Her breast came into contact with the flame and she gasped as the heat burned her soft skin. Watching the woman bit her own lips softly and let her free hand stray to the buttoned shirt where it covered her own fulsome flesh.
Diana struggled to regain her detachment, but it was in vain. The moment had passed, and now the torment rose about her like a wall that blocked out light and hope. The feel of the metal sphere hammering at her female sanctum blotted out possibility of disbelief, while the hoses hit her without pause, battering continuously against her hunched body as her legs shook with fatigue from her position and her ass clenched hard and fast in keeping with the pounding torture instruments. This was her reality now, clear and sharp and painted in the harsh colours of misery and anguish.
After a few moments more the German men and the woman in the torture chamber were rewarded with unintelligible sounds of pain from her gagged mouth, grunts and squeaks as her perfect ass jerked to the crunch of the metal into her womanhood. Her body jerked forward with each blow as if she were being taken from behind, breasts quivering globes of beauty before her as they were lit with the yellow light of the sputtering, searing flame.
Savage strode over and reached out, pulling back her head and again forcing her face towards his. He shook her head to clear the sweat-damp black locks, wanting to see her as she was hurt. The man behind moved and aimed up around her tapering long leg from the front – coming up under her belly the swing impacted against her as the chain cut into her flesh, and this time the weight was aimed so that it swung up between her legs and landed upon her ass, too.
‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaarghhh!!!’
‘That’s it, Diana,’ he gloated. The sense of power infusing him was like a warm glow. ‘You look so beautiful in pain.’
She snarled at him, trying to pull her head free. He held her midnight black hair tighter, digging his fingers into her scalp. She choked as the metal pounded her again and a tear spilled down her cheek. He was making Wonder Woman cry in pain! In ten thousand years of life he could remember few things so satisfying.
Diana gagged on the rope and tasted bile in her mouth as they hit her again. Her womanhood felt raw and swollen now, like a piece of meat on a slab, and the tight circle of her ass felt as if it were being ripped open. She throbbed with pain. It filled her body like a balloon being blown up larger and larger, as if it were threatening to make her ripe curves burst apart. Morbidly she wanted to see what they were doing, but the fear of what her intimate flesh would look like with the constant pounding of the spiked metal filled her with dread. She knew she was bleeding for Savage, could feel the sticky heat of her life trickling down her thighs or spattering against them when the steel instrument crashed into her wounded sex. The lips of her flower felt so bloated that she doubted she could close her legs even is they weren’t tied apart.
WHAM….WHAM….WHAM….
How many blows now? Thirty? Fifty? It was horrible. They were beating her to death, mutilating her. Flesh that had survived the impact of invulnerable fists backed by Kryptonian muscle rendered to ragged pulp by a simple metal ball and chain.
No, this was still unreal, still an illusion in her mind. My vagina is not really being turned into shredded bits of hanging flesh. Not real…illusion…not real! She experience the ball pounding her sex again and dry heaved, her stomach sucking in as she undulated violently. Yellow liquid spurted out around the rope as her empty belly spasmed, shaking her in her bonds as she knelt before them. The sweat covering every inch of her turned ice cold as her convulsions eased, leaving her trembling with fatigue as the men leered at her.
Mustering her strength of mind and body she looked over her shoulder at them man hitting her sweet flesh. The ball on the end of its chain swung gently from his hand. Blood clung to it in sticky globs.
Savage was smiling as he reached down and took hold of her electric scorched nipple, crushing it. Diana made no sound, determined that at least she could withhold this from him, that he should gain pleasure from his cruel handling of her womanly body. ‘Yes, that’s it,’ he whispered to her, ‘that’s exactly how I imagined your mother would be in this room. So strong and courageous. And how she would feel,’ he added, as he continued the mauling of her tight full tit with his finger and thumb. Diana felt her head dragged back around by the pain in her curvaceous chest, grimacing and biting hard on the rope to stay silent. ‘Give her another one hard as you can ,’ he ordered the soldier.
‘As you say, Mein Herr,’ he snapped with relish, and swung the chain forward with all of his power.
WHUUUUUNKKK!
Diana's face twisted as she bucked wildly in the ropes, sculpted back arching and legs flexing powerfully as she tried uselessly to lift herself clear of the point of agony under her. More noises were wrenched from her, her long neck tight as she fought hopelessly to free herself rising up on her toes as she sat chained and vulnerable.
‘YYYRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!! NNNNN...NNNNNN…NNNNNNN!’
‘Again,’ Savage barked, still holding her nipple prisoner.
The impact lifted her as the weapon bit, the weight digging its way deep into her pussy. The spikes ripped her flesh and more blood drooled from between her legs. Amazon nostrils flared as she fought to get air into her lungs. She felt like she would vomit again, suffocating as she struggled to drag in oxygen. The pain in her groin made it impossible to think of anything but suffering.
‘I can keep on smashing your cunt into a bloody pulp until you have passed out,’ Savage said, deliberately choosing the most vulgar description of her womanhood to emphasize her humiliation. His hand cupped her burned and bruised mammary, mocking her with his gentleness. ‘If you not obey me.’
The heroine felt blood on her leg and imagined again her moist pink flesh hanging down in bloody strips. Not real not real not real! With an effort she focused her blue eyes, shaking her head no. Strands of her now lank black hair fell across her face as she breathed like a racehorse after a hard ride.
‘No, of course not, my Amazon,’ Savage gloated. He didn’t show any surprise at her refusal. ‘You’re not at a critical point…yet! We can do this so many times again.’ He let go of her breast and gave the blond a signal. She signed to the man behind and once more the weight crushed into her cunt, deeper and more painfully with each blow. Her sex lips spread around the metal violator as it drove up inside her, pushing itself towards her womb.
‘EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh….haanh….huh huh…gdddddds…’
‘It seems that you love the weight,’ the woman chuckled, noting how the sphere clung to her the pink folds of her ravaged vagina. ‘Give it back now, bitch!’ The soldier laughed with her, both of them amused by her pain. True to the Nazi troops they copied, the simulations Germans found the fact that the weight was sticking deep into her cunt made the torture a bit humorous and so all the more wonderful in its humiliation. They laughed and watched the blonde reach down and begin to work the weight out of her, twisting it back and forth slowly so she could feel every inch of her channel being hurt by the spikes. She gurgled in agony as Savage leaned forward, watching the blood leaking from the princess wounded sex.
As the metal ball came free and swung clear, the men waiting on either side again swung their rubber hoses. Stripped to the waist their young, well developed Aryan bodies put every ounce of strength behind the blows. The tubes slamming into Diana inner thighs on either side of her mons with sounds like the crack of rifle shots.
‘Nyyyyaaaaaaaaaaagh, eeeeeeeeaghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….aaaagggggggggggghhhh!’
The pain registered in her mind like bursts of stabbing light – sharper and sharper, like the bite of steel pincers on that tender skin. The glowing heat lingered from the strikes, suffusing her skin and muscles, doubling and redoubling as they hit her over and over. Before long her legs were quivering at the knees as she struggled to keep herself from collapsing forward.
Blinking the sweat from her reddened eyes the Justice Leaguer was horribly aware of the grinning visages of the soldiers as they beat out a staccato rhythm on her flesh, battering her lower back and thighs and bruising her legs and kidneys. Her legs shook and trembled, spreading with each blow to give a glimpse of her pink inner sanctum as it lay now battered and oozing blood.
‘Ja, we have the best drummers,’ one said laughing, hitting her with a backhand stroke that sent a wave of pain racing across her back with a sound like meat being cleaved.
‘Looks like we will have to fuck you in the ass,’ the other man laughed, as he smashed his hose against her leg, savouring the wet impact and her muffled groan.
‘Or maybe…it might be sexy warming my cock in her blood,’ the man with the chain replied, looking at her the anguish of her womanliness under his onslaught, even as he aimed and swung the simple torture device yet again, smashing it against her wounded muff.
For Diana it was an endless fall into a nightmare of horrible pain and degradation, the beating going on and on. Time ceased to have any meaning. The sweat poured down her face and fell like rain from her athletic young body whenever they hit her. The men cheered along with her beating. Days of abuse now hit her like a falling wall. She was trapped; trapped in an endless hell. Her titan breasts expanded and heaved as she tried to give voice to her suffering. The muscles of her abdomen rippled as she wiggled helplessly, her athletic endurance allowing her to feel more pain, last longer without the reprieve of unconsciousness. She clenched her fists in useless rage, struggling against the despair that was building inside her like a wail.
‘Shall we give her our cocks, Mein Herr,’ they shouted, aroused beyond protocol by the sight of the glorious body splayed and suffering. Their pants bulged around their straining erections as they loomed over Diana’s helpless form, and the courageous Amazon wondered with a sickening anticipation if the felling of these dream torturers raping her would be as horribly real as the pain of the torture.
But she was to be spared that knowledge – for the moment at least. ‘Not yet,’ Savage said with a shake of his head, though his every male instinct rebelled at his words. ‘But that does not mean she cannot still learn more of what it means for a woman to truly appreciate some hard masculine girth.’
Diana barely registered the words. Her universe seemed to have contracted around the pain in her groin, as if it were a neutron star of suffering, dragging into its crushing depths everything that was bright and good. Only when the sounds and sights of the Nazi chamber of atrocities began to fade, and the wall in front of her cracked in half and swung back to either side, did she find the strength to lift her dark rimmed eyes from the floor.
Part IX
Diana & Artemis
From the floor Diana could see what appeared to be two huge demonic figures looming over a third figure trussed between them. Long pale limbs were splayed out behind the captive while slender but muscular arms were bent back sharply behind as the prisoner hung from a metal bar. The cascade of red hair that fell in a pony tail was the only clue the Princess needed to deduct the name of the woman.
‘Artemis,’ she moaned.
***
"You bloody daemon bastards!" Artemis shrieked. The horrible pain in her voice made her sound more like a wounded dog than an Amazon.
The foul torturer rubbed the piece of her breast across her cheek, leaving a smear of bright red blood while the hole in her tit began pulling closed. The red-haired warrior held her eyes shut tight, trying to defy the tears that spilled down from beneath her long lashes. Even the healing of the awful wound was an exercise in suffering as her flesh was stretched and knitted back together by eldritch forces
Watching it all, the whip wielding creature stopped. Bestial hunger glowed in the eyes of the once-man as it leered down at the naked woman gasping and twisting in her suspension, her body open and vulnerable to their darkest wishes. As she hung down her female entrance sat pink and pouting between perfect thighs. The anticipation of savouring that moist rapture left the horned beasts drooling with lust. ‘Lets spread her legs,’ it growled. ‘I want to get to every part of this whore.’
There were a few moments while the monsters were busy and all Artemis had to do was to hang head down and experience the pain of their abuse. That and think about what else they were going to do to her.
One of the demons came back holding a black metal bar. Reaching up it slipped it into the chains around her ankles, the other adjusting the manacles so that instead of holding her feet bound together each were now shackled to the bar separately. Exhausted from the battle, days of imprisonment and the torture so far, Artemis did not even have strength enough to resist when they freed her feet to reposition them.
While one unholy brute was working with the fetters, the other held her bleeding legs, feeling the power in those long limbs of sculpeted athleticism. Then when his companion was finished with the locks and chains, the other helped pull her feet outwards along the bar. "Uuogh, aghhhh," Artemis groaned, while she struggled to keep her legs together. As their hands touched her wounded skin they sends waves of fire to her mind. Inch by inch they pulled her ankles along the bar, until finally her two gorgeous long legs were splayed along the metals length, feet almost four feet apart. Then it was a matter of one holding her feet akimbo as the more chains and locks were wrapped around her thighs calves and ankles to keep her lower body spread.
Even with her body torn, battered and bloodied, Artemis fought hard. But she was too tired and they were too strong and determined. For all her efforts she was unable to resist the constantly pull of the beast and the eager power radiating from them. She felt more then ever like a peace of meat hung up in a slaughterhouse.
The cold air touched the now spread inner curves of her legs, and to the hungry fiends her smooth and perfect cunt lay like a flower with its petals beginning to unfold. As the chill teases that tender blossom, the effect was that the bud her clit nestled amid the pinkness stirred and stiffened while the beasts enjoyed a good long look at her softer parts.
‘Now we can really see you,’ the one with pliers growled, clicking the metal jaws together above her womanhood.
‘And smell you,’ laughed the other, bringing his snout own to sniff at her open sex, his snake tongue slipping out and lapping liked a cold slug at her pussy lips, tasting the blood there.
‘Bloody bastards,’ she gasped as she dangled into the air, helpless and vulnerable. Artemis felt the pliers inserted between the folds of her labia and then deeper, delving between the pliant flesh of her vagina. The jaws felt closed, and she tried not to hold herself tense against the pain that was sure to strike at any moment.
But it never came. Instead when the jaws were deep within her channel the creature changed its grip and began to pull the metal lever outwards, stretching it open inside her.
With her cunt spread wide beneath its gaze, the other fiend dipped its misshapen head, its mouth opening to let the serpentine tongue again come forth. As thick as two fingers, the impossibly long organ probed down until it brushed the lips of the captured woman’s entrance, then slithered inside.
Artemis barely suppressed a scream of horror as she felt the cold and slimy protrusion enter her most intimate space, questing ever deeper into her womanhood. Drool from the beast dripped onto her thighs and mons and seeped within her to help grease the way for the demons hideous invasion of her body. Six inches crept inside her, then seven, then eight! She could feel the monster lapping her cervix, sending its freakish pink tongue into her very womb. The snake-like girth rubbed against her clitoris, massaging it and making her sexual organs quiver with the bestial stimulus, adding to her humiliation. She groaned and moved her body in an attempt to shed some of the filthy energy building within her core.
The tongue rape seemed to go on for hours. All the proud warrior woman could do was hang there while the monster probed her, tasted her. The tongue was rough and she felt her vaginal walls being scratched and abraded as the long pink thing inside her moved in and out, pushing and pulsing and bruising her from within. Finally the unholy protrubence pulled back and out.
The creature licking her blood from the pliers grinned savagely. Then throwing the tongs away, it rammed its huge fist into her wide open crotch with unrestrained force.
The suspended beauty’s eyes bulged and she gasped in pain, feeling his powerful knuckles grinding down into her as her chained ankles cracked under the impact and bled afresh. Artemis’ head fell back, but then lifted to watch as the fist rose again while her pussy lay sore and aching.
‘Talk,’ growled the other demon, running the whip over her tits. The creature then began scratching her midriff with its claws...drawing lines of blood over her taut stomach, as she winced and shuddered, feeling her skin tearing again. She knew he could peel her like a piece of ripe fruit, and she would still remain alive and in pain. So much pain.
‘About what,’ she grated out, hoping she had kept the growing desperation from her voice. It wasn’t the pain that made her stomach knot in fear – it was knowing that it could go on and on and never end.
‘The ray,’ said the other, seizing her pony tail. With it he lifted her head so high up her body rose with it, breasts still angled down towards the floor slick with blood. ‘Tell us about the purple ray.’
***
Watching all, the two shadowed figures watching their screens moved with anticipation.
‘Now it gets interesting,’ said one. The other nodded.
***
‘Ahem,’ came a soft voice in the torture chamber.
The demons and Artemis both turned to see a tall, well dressed man with a brown goatee and moustache standing near the opening that had appeared noiselessly in one wall. Artemis had no idea who the newcomer was, but instantly recognized the raven tressed figure sprawled naked and chained on the floor behind him.
‘Diana!’
‘Pardon the interruption, gentleman,’ said the man, and turned to Artemis, ‘and allow me introduce myself. My name is Vandal Savage, dear girl. And yes, we would like very much for you to tell us all about the purple ray.’
Diana lifted her head, and Artemis stifled a gasp as she saw the suffering etched on those noble, lovely features. Despite her superpowers Artemis had never really though of Diana as tough, and it looked as though they had been torturing her for days. Her body was grimed and covered in small wounds. Artemis knew that the younger woman healed fast, and those signs of pain must be evidence of much more horrific damage. And there was worse, far worse than pain stamped the princess’ face.
Have
they raped her?
‘The purple ray is a healing device, nothing more,’ Diana said from the floor. Her hands and arms flexed behind her but shockingly she did not have the strength to burst the chains around her wrists or feet. What have they done to her? Artemis wondered.
‘For now, yes,’ the one called Savage agreed. His pleasant demeanour reeked of cruelty. He reminded Artemis of the White Magician, but you could tell at a glance this one was a thousand times more dangerous. ‘But we see far more potential in the science if it were to be put to other purposes. Say as…a weapon.’
‘Impossible,’ Dian spat from the floor.
‘So you say, Princess, but I’m inclined to believe that even if you thought it was a remote possibility, you might not feel inclined to tell us. Is that not so?’
Diana’s eyes glared up at him but she remained silent.
‘Exactly,’ Savage smiled. ‘Which is why we are entertaining you’re fellow Amazons and your fellow heroines and why we are here now. To persuade you to reveal any information you do have. Or to persuade them – either would be fine.’
‘There is no information,’ Artemis croaked from her bondage before Diana could speak. Her lovely body swayed a little as she turned her head to look at Savage. ‘You and these other halfwits have come on a fool’s errand.’
‘Well, I suppose I expected that answer,’ Savage sighed. ‘It might even be true.’ He smiled again, and Artemis felt a cold fist round her heart. She had met the lords of hell, and this yet this apparently unremarkable man could make her feel fear at a glance. ‘We will just have to find out.’
Stooping down, Savage grabbed Diana by the hair and dragged her back through the opening. She winced and struggled, but could not free herself as she was manhandles back behind the wall, her great powers either nullified or, more shockingly, insufficient to free her. As the wall began to reseal itself Artemis saw her blue eyes full of compassion and horror, but strength too. The red head knew that Diana would trade places with her in a heartbeat, but she would never help these monsters, no matter what they did to her.
Good girl, Princess Artemis thought, and she smiled with bloodied lips. Then the wall closed with a muffled thud.
***
‘Stop this,’ Diana snarled from the other side of the wall. ‘She is telling you the truth! The purple ray cannot be used for a weapon! You’re wasting your time torturing these women for nothing!’
Savage looked down at her. ‘Even is you were telling the truth about the ray, my dear Diana,’ he said with a smile of pure evil, ‘I would not call our time and effort here entirely wasted.’
Diana snarled like a beast and heaved against her chains, fighting to rise. She could shatter these steel manacles like cheap plastic. She could fly, free herself, pin Savage to that wall in the blink of an eye or ram his head right through it. She had the power, not matter what the tiara pinned to her skull was telling her. She was Wonder Woman and she could do it!
Nothing.
From behind the wall the two heard the demons growling to one another, and then a cry of female suffering.
‘Let me know if you think of anything useful to say,’ Savage said with a smirk.
***
Back in the torture chamber, Artemis felt the barbs of the whip prick the soft flesh of her breasts, but she kept her eyes closed and her mouth shut tight.
To the demon raking her body her smooth skin felt like butter under its long claws, soft and pliable. The other beasts’ companion took his whip in both hands and pulled it tight down over the swell of her tits, so that the long strand dug into the boobs like barbed wire. Then her looped the cord about her tortured mammaries and drew the cruel circle tight.
Before long the twin globes had turned purple and blood spilt from where the sharp points were gouging deep into the flesh. Her cries of pain, something she could no longer withhold, sent surges of demonic pleasure through the creatures’ bodies. Together they could feel the twitch of her abdominal muscles as she was torn, her lithe body twisting erotically before them and between them.
Artemis could feel the terrible strain on her spread thighs her every movement caused, but she could not stop it. Her head swung from side to side as her fiery hair fell across her face and about her shoulders. Gurgling sounds of feminine suffering were dragged from her. Her breasts felt like they were leaden spheres threatening to tear loose from her chest, the constriction making them bloated and swollen. Talons cut deep into the sheath of muscle over her intestines, the terrible wounds healing just fast enough to prevent her guts from spilling out over the floor as she hung head down.
Using the index finger of its three-fingered claw not holding the pliers, the first creature drew a straight line up from her belly-button towards her cunt, carving a line of blood on the sweat soaked flesh and making her groan loudly. The other drew the whip back and forth, cutting her tits around the base so that tiny liquid rubies went spattering across the floor as the claw sliced upwards, tearing the outer layer of her skin open as it went.
In desperation she pulled her stomach taught, trying to escape that razor sharp nail while she continued to sob without pause at the terrible mauling of her breasts. The sadistic once-man used its other hand to once more peel back the folds of her cunt, exposing her tender, tender clit to its vile attention. The pink bud was still erect from the abominable ministration of the demon tongue, and the owner of that foul coil watched entranced. Letting go of the whip, it grabbed her bleeding tits in its own claws.
‘Now you sing for us, you bitch!!` The talons were digging into ballooning breast flesh to make her sob, so deep she could feel the hard points poised to pierce the skin on the other side of each mammary.
She was in a nightmare; she could do nothing to escape or resist as the whip both hurt and healed her , so that she was doomed to the pleasure of the demons. The strain on her legs was made worse by the fact that her weight was pulling down on the ropes about her ankles, and the cold air touching her inner legs and groin gave the demons another spectacular view of her womanhood.
She felt one of the monsters again using its snakelike tongue to lap coldly at her sex lips. The tall woman shivered, sick with the feeling that was growing up in her. She hated the demons and she hated her self as her body began to betraying her. Hung by her feet Artemis was remembering her time in hell - not just the terrible pain but also the equally terrible pleasures.
The transformed mercenaries pawed at her upside down body, the one with the pliers reaching up towards her female centre while putting his hand under her head to lift it up so she could see what he was doing. His huge arms lifted her weight easily as his horned visage sat level with her ankles, grinning down at her.
Artemis tried desperately to convince herself that this was some kind of hallucination, a trick, but the tongue of the demon and his sharp claws telling her the opposite. ‘Look at yourself , see what’s going on with you,’ he chortled at her . Her breathing was full and deep as she stared up at the metal teeth inches form her tender cleft. She twisted her head violently but the demon yanked it back into position, making her view what would happen next. On the other side of her, the massive bodied fiend loosened the barbed thong around her breasts so it could move the whip against the split in her flesh that marked her womanliness. It waited for her to fully appreciate the terror, then began sawing the barbs slowly back and forth as he worked it deep into her.
‘AAAAAHHHHHHHH!’
At once blood spilled from her and ran down her belly towards her tits as they hung full and round towards her chin.
The cunt bastard is sawing me in half!
She heard herself screaming like an animal through clenched her teeth. He kept the barbs moving, her flesh healing only to be ripped again with the next stroke, pieces of soft pink meat clinging to the bloodies cord. The demon was laughing about her helpless anger, proceeding to work the barbs deeper in her flesh, cutting her lips and the walls of her sexuality. The warrior could feel the sharp points catching on her softness and tearing it as he moved his hands. With infinite cruelty the other putting the pliers around the lips of her sex at the centre of her opening, pressing them together with the barbed cord still inside her and clamping them painfully hard, sealing her shut.
Artemis struggled heroically to free her hands as she yelped and cried out but there was nothing, nothing, she could do to stop her pain. She felt her stomach cramping from the tension of staring upwards in sick agony. Her back ached terribly as the muscles bunched in painful knots. With her muscles was hard as steel and hurting terribly from their flexed rigidity, the suffering went on to an even higher level.
The soft cunt meat squeezed around the whip, and the beast pulled it back and forth, slowly methodically using the points insider to rip the pink softness. It was the pure agony. She couldn´t relax the tension of her body because the pain ruled over her. Blood ran down in rivers from the crack of her sex.
‘NNNNN...NNNNNNAAAAARRRRR!!’
Rip, tear, rip, tear.
‘FUCK...AAAIIIEEEEEEEE...HUH…HUH…HUUUAAAAAARRR!!!’
The warrior woman thrashed in her suspension as she felt the barbs punctured her sweet flesh from the inside, her spasmodic movement helping tear her sex to shreds. She could feel her pussy filling with blood and then running down over her, hot and thick, staining her breasts and running down around her neck and over her chin as she gave voice to her anguish in long, passionate screams. The creature holding her head twisted it towards his massive cock, ten inches long as so wide her grasp would barely have passed half way around it. "Suck me, and we’ll take a break for a while," he growled.
Artemis dragged air into her lungs. 'SUCK – YOURSELF…AAAAAAAAA!!!!’
***
'SUCK – YOURSELF…AAAAAAAAA!!!!’
On the other side of the wall, Diana heard Artemis’ defiant words end in a scream of pain.
They were going to rape her friend while she listened, just as they had Donna. But this was no pre-recorded atrocity she could do nothing to prevent. This was happening here, now!
The stone floor was cold under her bare skin. She shuddered, black hair askew. There was nothing she could do to stop this, except give in to Savages demands.
She hoped someday Artemis would forgive her.
***
The monster with the cord pulled it harder against her pelvis, sawing the top and bottom of her pussy deeper.
‘GGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!’
‘Why, when we have you in such a position,’ he laughed. ‘Take it bitch,’ he snarled, jabbing his erect member towards her, ‘or I swear you’ll feel what its like to be sawn in half from the cunt on down!’
Artemis moaned in the depths of suffering, shaking her head violently as she bit her lips so hard they bled - she could not think, only react! She felt she would do anything and everything to end this horror. But deep in her mind she was still the proud warrior, full of disgust for the demons cock. Even more so at the idea of surrender.
Silently she prayed Diana felt the same.
‘I think she needs more persuasion,’ the one holding her red hair laughed. The first monstrosity considered, while his friend gave a few more tugs of the whip that made the prisoner sob in pain. Finally he spoke. ‘Let’s see if she bends as well as she stretches,’ he suggested evilly.
‘Waaaaaaaah, UUUUUUUUUngh,’ she screamed in hate and suffering, as moments later the Amazon could feel the whip coiled round her forearms where they were tied behind her back.
‘Now, you might want to loosen up a bit.’ the one still holding the pliers suggested.
His friend had looped the other end of the whip around the spreader bar holding her legs splayed out, knees retied with their backs flat to the metal and her lower leg bent over the bar like the hook of a clothesline. More ropes had been used to cast loops around her bleeding ankles and tie them to the tops of her legs, the cords cutting deep into her muscular thighs and passing under the hard curve of her buttocks. With terrible strength the monster began to haul back her arms, so that she felt the barbs cutting deep into her Amazon muscle as the increasing tension made her arch her back further and further.
‘Mmmmmmph, aaaahh!’
It took only a few seconds to feel the pressure on her lower spine building to pain, the crushing cramp travelling up the dorsal muscles towards her lateral muscles and then on to her shoulders. Artemis took deep gulping breaths as the stretching of her abdomen started to crush her diaphragm. Her green eyes filled with loathing , while her body was filling up with pain so powerful that she was near to shrieking. Still they kept pulling her up, inch by straining inch, until her shoulders were level with her hips, then higher still.
‘AAAAAAAAARRR!’
Silvery sweat poured off her contorted form, and her guts felt like they might burst through her abdominals and over the floor. She could feel every muscle as was ripped off slowly from the bone, and the damage her from inside as her organs were dragged, stretched, and squeezed.
At last the pressure stopped growing, though the warrior woman was in such aguish she barely realised it.
The demon cast the free length of the whip around the bar and drew it taught, giving the hanging woman no slack. He made it fast with her wrists just under the horizontal bar, fingers clawing at the air as the barbs tore at the flesh of her forearms. Her shoulder blades were squeezed together by the position, while beneath her her ribs looked ready to burst out through her skin beneath her rearing breasts.
***
In the next room, Diana listened to the anguished screams and sounds of hellish pleasure. She turned away from the wall, her face pressed to the floor damp with her weeping.
Savage was also listening, but his eyes were fixed only on the woman tied at his feet. ‘I’m going to leave you now, Diana. You can lie there and hear to what happens to your friend. Maybe you’ll find something to tell me while you’re listening. Artemis seems a strong young woman – you should have plenty of time to think about it. Those two look like they’ll soon get around to raping her, and she looks the sort who could last a while.’
Diana lifted her blue, tear filled eyes to the villain, her own magnificent nakedness still trembling with fatigue from her ordeal. Another scream echoed in the stone chamber and Diana winced, her red lips set. ‘You will never break her, Savage. And there is nothing either of us can tell you.’
Savage turned and walked to the doorway, pausing on the threshold as more laughs and shrieks came from behind the far wall. ‘We’ll see if you still feel that way when more of your lovely companions are being tortured to death for your stubbornness,’ he said. Then he was gone, and the door closed to leave Diana in the dark with nothing to listen to but the endless, high-pitched screams.
Part X
Artemis
Artemis heard metal scraping stone and felt heat on her neck and chest. Behind the strands of lank red hair about her drooping head her eyes opened and she saw a brazier, the small iron cauldron of hot coals sitting inches from the nipples of her full, quivering breasts.
Her body was bent back so that her belly was an upturned bowl and her firm proud globes were pushed towards the floor four feet beneath her. Hanging by her arms and legs, drops of sweat were sizzling as they fell from her chest onto the glowing embers.
SSSSSSSSSSS….PPSSSSSSSSSSS
She felt her blood pulsing into ripped muscles to give her more hellish pain, and in her mind she realized that she could not survived long about this treatment, if only they would remove their spell.
And let her die.
Bending down next to her, one beast blew on the coals, so that bright angry sparks jumped up to hiss against her sweat soaked tits. With her back straining with the pressure of her position, and her legs spread to give the monsters had unhindered access to her most private places, Artemis twisted her bleeding arms to try to get her ripe, womanly chest away from the stings of the red hot embers.
‘We’re going to warm you up, slut, make you nice and toasty. Ha, ha, ha!’
The yellow-eyed beast behind her had rearmed itself with yet another terrible leather coil, this one more of a strap but with metal teeth worked into one side. The one in front still had the pair of iron pincers that had done such cruel work on her darkly bruised breasts.
‘You…unnn…can never…never defeat…ggg…us…bastards!’ she gasped with defiance from behind her copper hair.
The hell-spawn at her front laughed, its stiff cock still thrust towards her face. Artemis could see its vile fluids oozing from the hole at the engorged shaft’s crown as the demon reached down and also chose a fresh torture tool, another pair of tongs, but of a size that allowed them to open wide enough wide enough to grasp the sides of both her tits. Taking her whole magnificent chest in the grip of iron he began slowly closing the jaws, pinning the firm flesh in the narrowing gap. Perspiration fell like rain onto the coals as she looked at her tits bulging around the closing circle of rusted metal as the jaws gripped tighter and tighter, crushing her two throbbing mounds of her chest against each other.
Eager for more cruelty, the demon with the whip began to work his weapon against her sharply arched back, having to hold her arms out of the way with one huge hand while the other slashed the weapon across her body. Blood went running down from the rents on her back, and from her belly too when the sick torturer brought the strap up at her from below to slash her ultra-taught abdomen. The evil magic healing her to keeping her alive and in pain also worked to stop her bleeding enough to pass out.
The creature at her head was thrusting his massive cock towards her face as he used the tongs on her breast. Artemis could only hang and let the sick freaks do what ever they would to do with her , unable to fight back. A hell for a proud Amazon like herself.
The towering animal with the barbed strap changed targets and used the leather on her nethers, letting her feel the razor points snagging on her softest flesh as the length struck her repeatedly over her coit, between her pussy and anus. Her belly and back were bright crimson from the blood she had shed under the lashing. It ran down off her body, the pain constant as the wounds were torn open, healed, and then torn open again as she twisted in the ropes.
‘OH CRUEL GODS…AAARRRRRGGGHHHH…YOU SACKS OF
OFFAL…NEEAAAAAAAHHH!’
Chuckling darkly the creature with the tongs kept his iron grip on her twin breasts, holding the captive meat steady as his other claw reached for the small pedestal holding the black bowl. Immune to the heat that would have charred the flesh of a man, it lifted the container of embers higher, blowing on it so that sparks leaped up from the bowl. Again fires assaulted her shoulders and chest. The warmth that had begun to sting her was increased threefold as they rose up closer, the orange light washing over her and her skin prickling and reddening as she felt the searing warmth of the coals against her body as she twitched belly-down over them.
‘Aaaaaaaaaargh, ssshhiiiittt,’ Artemis moaned. She could feel the pain thundering up in her shoulders and back from her stretched position wed to the heat of the brazier near her body, blistering her smooth, bloodstained skin. She was being both flayed and roasted alive. Her breasts had become like sacks of coals themselves, burning her from within as they soaked up more and more heat to torment her. Seeing her pain increasing and hearing her sobbing groans the horned thing behind her bent forward to lets its snake tongue lick at her bleeding asshole, as the other guffawed loudly. ‘We thought a fiery red head would appreciate this,’ it laughed, using the tongs to pull her down by her swollen tits towards the fire and making her howl with suffering.
The blood flowing from her mixed with sweat and went dripping in the bowl with a sound like a dozen angry serpents. Artemis squared her shoulders, attempting to ignore the pain in them and trying to keep them from being slowly dislocated by her own hanging weight and the force of her pain-fueled writhing. She knew if she allowed her arms to be wrenched from their sockets she would be screaming until her throat burst. The pain in her lower back were her spine curved down to the cheeks of her ass made her want to tear the vertebrae from her body just to end the pain. Every tiny twitch made the bone discs grind together like millstones crushing grain to powder.
‘Well, it smells like a spit-roasted Amazon,’ the first beast laughed. Without warning her released her tits from the tongs, the tortured globes of flesh springing back into their full shape as the instrument clattered to the floor. He stooped so she could see its evil face leering across at her, his free claw moving up to caress her hanging breast as it throbbed darkly from the pliers grip, the skin pink and steaming as circulation returned. Artemis had not time for relief though. The beast began to blow on the coals, instantly making them glow brighter and brighter, orange changing to yellow and them moving towards white. The awful heat rose worse than ever, in waves to fill her chest with crippling anguish.
‘Y...you can d…d....do what you want , but you…AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH…will pay for thiiiiisssss!’ she gasped in a thin whine. In response, the creature grabbed her tit hard, once more the claws digging into her breast like daggers as she howled.
‘Don’t talk to much, you need your power for screaming.’ the demon said to her with an evil grin. It used the talons hooked in her singed boob to pull it down towards the bowl until Amazon flesh was less than an inch from flaming agony. The pain skittering over her bruised tit like a thousand hooks ripping pieces from he she-globes. The fiend behind giggled with lust and put its huge red hands on her back, pushing her down even harder. Ligaments and joints in her hips and shoulders tore as her back curved to almost right angles. Only her Amazonian stamina and flexibility kept her spine from shattering.
Her breasts touched the coals gently. There was a sound like sizzling bacon, but only for a split second as another sound drowned it out.
‘YYEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH!!!’
Her breasts were on fire, the meat and fat bubbling and melting as her nerves sent messages of damnation to her brain.
‘AAA...AAAAARRRRRRRR…NO….NOOOOO…HUNN…HUAHAAHAARR!"
Smoke from her burning skin was choking her and sparks landed on her neck and shoulders like burrowing wasps. Flames leapt up from where her breasts were being set alight by the coals, her nipples on fire as she screamed loud enough to shatter glass. A symphony from Hell.
The animal holding her tits in the coals leg go, blood spilling down to hiss on the fires. Steam went snaking up around her agonized chest orbs. The fiend dragged her head up to face its cock full on, the red skin taught on the huge organ as it poised stinking of unused sex. ‘Take it now , Amazon; you deserved it so much.’
Artemis pressed her lips together so hard that she bit them. The smell of her own seared breast flesh was rank in her nostrils as she glared up at him with tear stained eyes, shaking her head in refusal.
With a frustrated grunt the beast pulled her head up higher, almost breaking her neck as it stared down at her. ‘You think you know pain - you know nothing, whore!’ the beast growled.
Artemis hung barely sane, gradually aware that the fiend behind was doing something new. She felt his claws around her slender hips and then suddenly she felt something hard and cold pressing into her outer sex. She screamed in rage as the intrusion into her being continued, getting harder.
‘Time for your mouth to give me pleasure, Amazon cunt.’ The monster holding his cock in her face growled. She sobbed but twisted her face away, only to have it dragged back as she felt her pussy lips stretching to accommodate the monstrous girth violating her. She spat blood again, some dribbling off his cock. She made the mistake of looking down and the sight of her gorgeous breasts, covered in bleeding, open sores and weeping blisters as the magic healed her burns, almost made her vomit. Every thrust from the demon behind into her splayed pussy made her gasp and tremble, but she remained defiant.
With one mighty push the organ at her gate rammed deep past her pretty petals and deep into the flower of her being. The enormous bulbous head crashed deep into her womanhood, the girth making her feel he had split her open.
‘Fuck yes,’ yelled the demon that had been a man behind her happily as her body moved on his cock crown. She wiggled and heaved, trying to pull away from the invader in her slit, but she had no leverage - and no hope.
Artemis shook her head violently, hissing in agony. Her hair was matted with sweat. The beast at her vagina had reached under her as it fucked her and was using its claw of to poke at the tip of her clitty, increasing the pressure slowly, ever so slowly...as she heaved at her bonds, an animal shriek tearing from inside of her as pain stabbed her soft woman bud. The demon holding her by her bleeding tits gibbered with delight as he watched his partner continue until the outer layer of the pink hood was pierced and the claw´s tip was intruding into the very center of the most tender part of her body.
‘GGGGAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!”
The strangled cry burst from her mouth, and the first demon saw his chance and brutally shoved his cock head between her red lips. Artemis kept on howling as the creatures slowly pushed deeper into her clit, twisting its claw as it probed into the ultimate female flesh. Aware despite the cruel pain shed tried to bite his cock, but the demon hide resisted her teeth, the creature groaning in pleasure at her efforts to hurt him. Thrashing, naked and bleeding, she hung by her ankles and his vile member down her throat. The pain of the claw in her clit, twisting and wiggling at the super-tenderized, wounded flesh-bud drove her almost insane.
The monster at the rear giggled like a lunatic while she screamed, slicing her clitoris in half as the dark magic healed the bud to be torn anew and she writhed, cursing. ‘Fug oo!’ they heard her choke in between gagged howls of anguish. ‘We will both fuck you, slut!´ the torturer hissed back, letting go of her clit and ramming his massive, stone-hard cock into her wide open, bleeding pussy.
The beautiful Amazon gasped as the demon cock was rammed down her throat again, dislocating her jaw with a wet crack. She gurgled in anguish as his taste pushed down towards her belly, as her nose was crushed into the disgusting scent of his pubis, as two huge testicles slapped against her chin. From the other side the hard, crusty hide of hell-cock was rasping at her cuntal walls, as he pushed deep inside her with primal, animal lust; not just to copulate with her lovely body, but to punish and dominate her in the act. For Artemis, it felt like being fucked with a tent-pole that had been covered with sand-paper, while being choked to death with another. The pain of the friction in her tunnel was almost worse than the pain of the unnatural size of the beasts phallus forcing her cunt-passage to expand farther than it was meant to go for any reason other than giving birth. Her pelvic bone felt like it could shatter at any moment while her back screamed as she was bent to fit between their twin rape-tools.
The fiend could feel her body jerking in pain on his erect member as he drove deep into the space between her soft pussy walls. His friend was fucking her mouth so that his penis’ head plunged down over her tongue to the back of her throat, choking her with his massive cock and giving him the delight of feeling her desperate struggle for air.
As he watched his companions cock stabbed in and out of her red trimmed sex with massive, brutal thrusts, making the Amazon grunt and sob against the cock-meat crammed into her mouth and down her throat. He felt immensely powerful, not just with the rippling musculature of demon body he had been given but also with the primal ecstasy of taking such an incredibly beautiful woman against her will. Her six foot frame was nothing more than their fuck toy now, and he howled with pleasure at making her already healed tits jiggle on her chest, like the udders of a supremely sexy cow. She gasped for air, her tongue fluttering over his phallus to fill him with unholy pleasure as she was forced to give him head.
Artemis felt the vile taste of the monstrous organ washing over her, making her want to retch. Her quim throbbed like an anvil beaten by a hammer as the other rapist slammed his giant pole in and out of her, each thrust pounding her body black and blue as her pubic mound bulged with the size of the invader. The demon raping her mouth reached over, picking up a dull orange coal in its evil hand while his other grasped the back of her red-manned head to push her onto his dick. Trapped between their pistoning shafts there was nothing she could do as he pressed the burning ember against her undulating belly
sssssssssSSSSSSSSS
The Amazons gargling scream was inhuman as she bucked like a mare being broken, jerking the powerful demon cock inside her quim. Her wet pussy walls were twitching around the creatures cock, milking it as he groaned in pleasure and increase the force of his thrusts. Shouting his thanks he basked in the turmoil of her twisting cunt-tube around his iron shaft.
The coal was removed and Artemis sagged in relief, exhausted by pain and the force of the double rape. Were it not for the magic cast on her she would have been dead, a beautiful corpse suspended between two foul devils. But she was not dead – she was alive and suffering, suffering. The tears from her green eyes tickled the prick of the beast face fucking her.
Grinning with utter viciousness the thing of evil behind her stretched out its clawed hand to pick up another coal, bringing it up to her sex lips where they strained to accommodate his rampant member as it drilled her ruthlessly. He rubbed the glowing seed along his own phallus, feeling its terrible heat only as a delicate tickle. Then he pushed it into her pink cleft as he rammed his cock inside her yet again.
The beast in her mouth watched the warrior woman’s eyes snap open and her body convulse again, bucking on the steel bar and jerking at the bonds insanely. Laughing her pulled his dick from her lips to hear her animal howls of pain as the glede rolled inside her cunt to the movements of the monster cock, searing the sensitive pink meat inside.
‘YAAAAAAA…AAA…AAA…AAAAAAARRRRRRRAAAAAAHHHHH!!’
Entranced by the way her body bent and twisted the demon in front pulled her head forward to rub its cock against her screaming mouth, leering lustfully. To Artemis it was if countless burning sharp thorns had protruded from the hide of cock into her cunt-walls, burn fem-meat clinging to the huge male organ and being ripped from her as it thrust back and forth.
‘NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRR!!!’
Her mouth was open so wide the corners of her mouth were bleeding, her jaw hanging strangely as the healing magic slowly repaired its dislocation. The devil did not intend to give that a chance to happen, though. With a bestial roar it rammed its spittle soaked girth deep into her mouth, her continuous shriek vibrating along ten inches of pulsing, red skinned dick. As the one in front choked her savage scream with his cock plunging between her lips and into her mouth her body and mind was filled with agony that went beyond physical pain, a defilement of both her mind and soul. She no longer controlled her body, couldn’t scream with the cock in her mouth, but her body shook like and earthquake, struggling toward oblivion with every remorseless thrust of demon hips.
Fucked cunt and mouth, the stunning female warrior heaved and thrashed like a dying beast, so hard she was nearly pulling her own athletic body apart, threatening to dislocate her hips and shoulders as she writhed up and down. The struggles made her pain even better for her rapists, and the demon choked her with his cock. She gagged, and the beast pushed deeper, loving the feeling of her throat spasming in disgust around his knob. The two abominations rocked their hips back and forth as they raped the brave warrior woman hanging between them.
The animal thing inside her scorched womanhood watched her suffering with sadistic delight...then mercifully drew his cock far enough from her to let the ember drip from her bleeding sex., before fucking into her again with slower strokes. Without thinking about it her body responded to her sudden reduction in her pain, relaxing, showing them its gratitude to only being raped by them.
In her pain-ravaged mind Artemis felt herself go limp with fatigue, drinking in these moments when the only suffering was the repulsive feel and taste of demon cock violating her proud form. She was too lost in pain and weariness to even rebel at her acceptance of the forced fucking as a source of respite. Fucking bastards, she thought miserably. But at the same time, she could not hold at bay the idea that if she concentrated on pleasing them as they violently used her, perhaps it would distract them from inflicting further torture upon her torn and aching flesh.
Two pairs of claws found her firm Amazon breasts fondling them and scratching them so the blood ran down over the legs and cloven feet of the beasts gyrating either side of her. The demons laughed and howled, each gaining pleasure both from their own rape and the voyeuristic thrill of watching his companion using this gorgeous rape slave. As they spiralled towards their ultimate release both increased their efforts until they fucked her as if their cocks were weapons are meant to kill her - hard, brutal, without restraint.
Artemis could feel the claws around her, grasping and tearing her, pulling her hips back against the thing penetrating her womanhood and squeezing her firm curves. They were crushing her between them, wildly stabbing their organs into her as she made noises of feral pain and hopeless misery. The first beast groaned and pushed hard, almost breaking her neck as he pressed her cunt meat tight against onto his companion. ‘Yeah, you fucking bitch!,’ the second hissed in rapture, rutting in her as hard as he could, feeling her sex almost tearing open under the assault as he howled and came hard.
Roaring like lions both thrust into Artemis simultaneously, making her body heave under the double assault into her quim and mouth. The creature at the front seized her head in a bone-crushing grip as he shot his load into her; their demon seed hot like boiling water, scalding its way down into her belly and making her choke and squeal in hellish agony. More of the molten filth was pumping up into her womb, spraying from her vagina as the monster there drew back and rocketed forward again and again. The noisome yellow fluid coated her thighs and stomach and ran down her chin to mingle with the blood on her floor, boiling its way through her. The warrior woman gagged and retched, sending a stream of the hell cum out her nose and spewing from her lips wrapped around the massive red prick in her throat. The cock battering her pussy squelched like a slime-covered python as it disappeared inside her, its owner putting the whole weight and power of his huge demonoid form into drilling his penis deep into the raw centre of her being.
The cum stained soaked woman gave a final horrific, gargling scream, and then lie a slumped like a broken puppet as even her Amazon stamina found its limit…and she finally passed out.
Interlude
Elsewhere, the two shadowy figures viewed their wall screen, which showed Diana sobbing quietly in the chamber adjacent to Artemis’ ordeal.
‘She’s tougher mentally than I would have given her credit for,’ the second watcher said.
‘The redhead or Wonder Woman?’ asked the first, glancing up slightly at the man seated next to him..
‘Both.’
‘You cannot underestimate any of them her,’ cautioned the first, ‘but especially Diana.’ He leaned forward, studying every curve and shadow of the incredible woman sprawled on the stony floor. Her breasts lay pillowed beneath her against the flagstones, teasing the men with the glimpse of their fullness in much the same way they did in the Amazons red and gold armour. Her perfect ass, on the other hand, was fully revealed, a wonder in itself as it merged into those amazing legs. ‘I have had a great deal of experience with this bitch, and her psyche, and you may be assured it is formidable. This will not be a quick process.’
‘Oh, I sincerely hope not,’ laughed his companion.
The view changed. The woman Barbara Gordon’s shocked face was shown on one side of the screen, while on the other side was the image that had so shaken her.
***
Barbara felt fresh tears welling up in her eyes but refused to let them spill from behind her glasses.
She knew enough of the Amazon history to know about the mass violation the proud women had suffered at the hands of Heracles and his soldiers. The supposed demi-god had tricked Queen Hippolyta, Diana’s late mother, into trusting him, only to turn on her and her subjects, taking them by surprise while guests in their city.
There was not woman among the whole Amazon nation who had not been raped that night.
Barbara was no sheltered schoolgirl. She knew the ways of the world, had had lovers. And the shot from the Joker that had cost her the use of her legs had not, thankfully, robbed her of the pleasures of physical contact. So the red-headed leader of the Birds of Prey grasped what she was seeing almost immediately. It was the horror that took longer to permeate her mind.
Row upon row of naked Amazons lay in bondage on cold slabs, electronic devices attached to their bodies. Some kind of headset was wrapped around each woman’s skull, covering her their ears. White, black, Asian, blonde, brunette, or red head like herself, every one of the beautiful prisoners wore a look of anger. Of determination. But most horribly…of desire. Barbara could see them panting, gasping, their incredibly bodies bathed in sweat as they twitched and twisted in their bonds.
Each woman moaned and writhed as waves of hideous pleasure washed over her, making her body quiver and undulate, moving to an erotic rhythm. For the women on the slabs, she knew this would be a torture beyond any physical mutilation. This would be a humiliation of all that the Amazons stood for, a defilement of their very souls.
Who
could be doing this, Barbara thought furiously. And how? And WHY!? Revenge? Who could
hate us this much?
With a sudden move Barbara blanked the screen. She did not want to risk alerting her captors to her observations, and she needed to concentrate past the horrors she had seen to find a way out of this for all of them.
***
‘She thinks she’s so clever,’ the second speaker chuckled, watching the Gordon woman get back to her make believe hacking. Another part of the screen showed the captive Amazons suffering their forced pleasuring. It was a sight neither man was likely to grow tired of quickly.
‘Yes,’ the first agreed, but then his face soured somewhat. ‘But I’d feel better if we knew exactly what her link to the others is,’ he muttered. ‘I think the time will soon come when we allow Ms Gordon to take a more active role in our experiment.’ He smiled at the thought of how the woman in the wheelchair might further their investigations. ‘What about our silent partner?’
The other watcher manipulated the controls before him and part of the screen shifted to reveal a garishly dressed figure alone in a room. As the Amazons moved and wriggled he capered about, his fingers moving in the air as if her conducting some kind of macabre puppet show.
‘He’s doing well,’ commented the second. ‘His own abilities combined with the information we gained from Wonder Woman seem extremely effective.’
‘We will know soon enough.’ They had already selected some promising targets on which to test those stimuli.
‘Still, it may be time to introduce some other subjects to the experiment soon,’ the second opined
‘I already have some in mind,’ the other replied.
Evil laughter rippled through the chamber, while the central screen flickered and shifted back to the image of Earth’s greatest female hero, naked on the floor of her cell.
‘I think that’s enough of a rest,’ said the shorter man. ‘Artemis’ stint with the demons seems to be over for the moment. Let’s see how they handle a juicier dish.’
Wonder Woman
Hell in
Volume 4
What
has gone before…
Themyscria,
the
Using
a combination of human troops and powerful super-villains, the invaders
instigated a surprise attack and took hostage many civilian visitors to the
Amazons home. Using their lives as leverage, the villains forced the surrender
of many female superheroes on the island at the time, including Princess Diana, better know to many as Wonder Woman.
Since
taking control, the conquerors have initiated a program of sadistic humiliation
and torment against the Amazons and the captive heroines, including Wonder
Woman’s sister Donna Troy, Donna’s
Titans team mate Starfire, the
crime-fighters Black Canary and Huntress, and the JSA member Powergirl. Diana herself has been
ruthlessly tortured for several days, both physically and psychologically, as
she has been forced to see friends and family suffer through Savage’s evil
ministrations.
Meanwhile
Barbara Gordon, who is secretly the
information and cyber guru known as Oracle
and leader of the Birds of Prey, has been coerced by the anguish of her agents
Black Canary and Huntress to try and hack the computers of the Amazons for
valuable secrets. Not knowing if those in charge are aware of her alternate
identity, she has agreed to try while attempting to learn more information on
their captors and how to defeat them.
While
the incredibly strong Powergirl has been rendered helpless by threats to the
prisoners being held and endures torture experiments conducted by Doctor Moon and the Crime Doctor, the heroines Starfire and
Huntress have been removed from their cells by the super villains for yet more
suffering. After having been brutalized by former enemies and Savage himself,
Diana has been forced to watch her Amazon sister Artemis being horribly mutilated by two Demons, not knowing that a spell had been cast on the warrior woman
to prevent her horrific injuries from being fatal. Despite this, Diana refused to give Savage
any information on the thing he has apparently come to Themyscia to exploit as
a weapon, the Amazon purple healing ray.
And
what neither Diana nor any of the captives is yet aware of if that two other figures are secretly
overseeing the entire operation, while using a third agent to inflict gross
psychological suffering on the Amazons. Their true identity and purpose as they
continue to sadistically torture their heroic female captives is yet to be
revealed…
Part I
Diana
When the door to the torture chamber opened at last and she was dragged back in to see what they had done to Artemis, Diana felt a shiver of cold fear run down her spine.
Not fear for herself – not fear that she would suffer the same awful fate as her tempestuous Amazon sister. Fear, rather, of what they had done to the red-haired warrior woman, fear that Diana would be forced to bear witness to her broken, mutilated body, knowing that she had done nothing to prevent this atrocity. Knowing that, given the choice, she would still have allowed this to happen rather than tell Vandal Savage or his allies anything about the Purple Ray.
Diana shuddered. The Purple Ray, despite the name which engendered so much scorn among non-Amazons, was a technological miracle whose energies were capable of repairing almost any injury whose effects had not already been fatal. There was wide-spread discussion among the race of warrior-women and those of the outside world on how such a device might improve quality of life for millions of injury victims, but so far nothing practical had come of such talks. Partly that was due to routine Amazon caution, but only Diana, Artemis, and a few others were aware that it was also because of the theory, so far untested, that the Purple Ray could be adapted into a truly terrifying weapon.
How Savage might have come by such knowledge, Diana did not know. Perhaps by the simple workings of his twisted genius he had spotted the potential. All that mattered, at the moment, was that he learn nothing about adapting the Ray for use in destruction.
Which was why Diana had left Artemis to be tortured to death by demons.
The creature holding her black hair released her, letting her fall to the floor. Grimly the Amazon princess levered herself to her knees, her hands still chained behind her back and the circuit laden tiara on her head still preventing her full powers.
Diana blinked. She had expected [dreaded] seeing Artemis broken body hanging before her, but the space where the red haired warrior had been was instead occupied by a totally different individual, though no less eye-catching than Diana’s feisty companion.
The creature standing in front of her was tall and statuesque, her lines unquestionably female and her origins undeniably demonic. Her face was broad and had a flat nose above a generous mouth, with all green eyes beneath two bony ridges that ended in vestigial horns. Long brown hair was tied with a leather thong that let it spill in a long ponytail down as far as her lower back, very much like the style that Artemis herself favoured. She had a hard, lean body whose curves were hugged by a kind of hide armour edged in razor sharp gold plates, which clung to her like a second skin over her legs, forearms, thighs, lower body and breasts. These last were teasingly revealed by the outfits plunging cleavage shaped like the gaping maw of a serpent, the jaws on either side framing her ample chest. It was an act of insolence and mockery more than of eroticism. In fact, every aspect of this being radiated contempt, and a desire to humiliate and belittle those around her, teasing them with sights she would never allow them to sample.
It took Diana a moment to recognize the beautiful yet sinister being before her. ‘You were in hell…,’ she said slowly.
The woman creature smiled. ‘You remember,’ said, taking a slow step forward. Then her boot lashed out like a cobra strike, driving into Diana’s face and sending her sprawling.
The demoness smiled wider. ‘I’m touched.’
Diana shook her head to clear it, tasting blood in her mouth and spitting it out as she rose. ‘You’re Belyllioth, Artemis’ ally. Lord Hades made you one of the thirteen rulers of Hell when you both tricked him into thinking you were she.’
‘For which Hades has made me a guest of his torture chambers for nigh on five of your Earthly years,’ Belyllioth said, lifting her chin. She actually seemed proud of the fact that she had spent half a decade being made to suffer unspeakable acts of cruelty.
Diana looked at the woman standing before her. Nothing in her posture spoke of submission or defeat. Her courage in the face of what she must have endured would have been admirable, if she had not been standing over the chained Amazon with Diana’s blood on her boot. ‘Artemis told me that you volunteered for that fate, so that the insurrection you fostered after your Lord Dakkrig-Hath betrayed you could continue.’
At the naming of her former master Belyllioth stiffened visibly. Diana knew that she had been the demon lords’ general and one of his many concubines, a post that Artemis herself had also occupied during her tenure in the Underworld. Diana had never judged Artemis for whatever compromises she had made during her stint in the afterlife, in no small part because when she had travelled there to rescue her fallen sister she had been captured herself by Dalkrigg-Hath’s demon soldiers. The Amazon princess would surely have been killed, had Artemis not defied her masters commands and helped them, Belyllioth included, to escape.
‘That’s right,’ Belyllioth said, standing tall before the chained superhero. ‘I turned on Dalkrigg-Hath after he had me dressed in rags and tied to the torture stake in his courtyard, to be whipped bloody by his chief torturer. You tried to save me, Amazon – do you remember?’
‘Yes,’ Diana said. ‘It is not my way to let any being suffer such a fate, not even a demon.’
‘Noble,’ Belyllioth sneered. ‘Up until that time I had been high in Hath’s favour, but he had little tolerance for failure. And do you remember how I failed him, that led me to be flogged in front of his drooling scum he called warriors.’
Diana felt a cold knot forming in her belly, but pushed the sensation aside. ‘You failed to capture me when Artemis intervened on my behalf.’
‘Just so. For which I lost all that I had earned after centuries in that vile pigs service. And then you had the effrontery to take pity on me, as if I were one of these mewling human cattle you spend your time herding about. They cut me down and tied you in my place and beat you half to death, while I was made to watch from the dirt at the punishment I was not even considered worthy to suffer.’ Belyllioth’s emerald eyes grew coldly dangerous. ‘I owe you much, little princess.’
The scene was emblazoned onto Diana’s memory with letters of blood and pain. She and Artemis staring down from a high window in the demon lord’s fortress to see Belyllioth draped in scanty rags and tied to the post of punishment, her face set in defiant lines until the first stroke of the whip ripped open the yellow skin over her belly and she howled in pain. And the then the whistle and crack of the lash and the demoness screaming as the monsters flayed her slowly, stripping her first of her clothes and then of all dignity as they plied the barbed leather against her legs and arms and breasts. When they had targeted the disgraced general’s hairless female slit between her legs so that the female hellion screamed loud enough to spit blood, Diana had snapped, vaulting through the window despite Artemis’ pleas and seizing the whip to stop the sadistic proceedings.
The rest of the memory was not so clear, largely due to the terrible beating she had received as she found herself facing half a hundred of Dalkrig Hath’s personal demon guard. Despite her own power and warrior skill Diana had only managed only to incapacitate a dozen for the brutes before they brought her down by sheer savagery and weight on numbers, pinning her under their bulk and pummelling her mercilessly until her armour was little more than shredded tinfoil and her body a mass of bleeding cuts and throbbing bruises. Barely conscious they had hoisted her like a trophy and carried her to the torture stake where, at Hath’s order, she replace Belyllioth as the object of his cruel pleasure.
How long they had whipped her as she hung, arms raised, at the stake, Diana could not say. If the demons felt any reservation about flogging a woman barely conscious they did not show it, applying themselves to the task of peeling her smooth skin off sliver by sliver with unbridled enthusiasm.
Every stroke had torn at Diana’s flesh, her armour offering little protection and soon none at all as the whip shredded it as efficiently as it did the woman within. Unable to move, to protect herself, to do anything more than feel, Diana had been taken to the very edge of death under the sadistic lash. Behind her eyes she remembered hearing the sounds of the demons gibbering with unholy glee at the sight her near naked body being destroyed inch by inch, tear by blood tear across her breasts and abdomen, each swish of the whip the prelude to yet another explosion of pain somewhere on her body. They flog beat her to death, kill her by the slowest and cruellest means they could think of, and the last thing she felt in life would be the indescribable agony of her skin hanging off her like bloody rags as the meat beneath was shredded from the bone.
By the time Artemis had made up her mind to rescue her Diana’s whole body from neck to knees was a mass of terrible wounds, red blood flowing down over her battered curves. With the demons victim barely alive in a nightmare of throbbing pain up and down her tortured physique, the red head had been forced to carry Diana from the stake and out of hell over her shoulder with the entire demon army pursuing them, clamouring and howling for their female flesh.
Bringing her mind back to the present, the black haired prisoner tried to wrap her mind around the hell-bitch’s logic, knowing that it was irreparably warped by her demonic nature. To this woman an act of kindness was a greater insult that being tied and beaten to a red pulp. ‘A simple thank you will suffice,’ Diana quipped, meeting the demon woman’s stare without flinching.
‘Oh no,’ Belyllioth smiled, showing her fang-like canines. ‘What I have in mind is quite intricate, you may be assured.’
Two massive demons, all muscle and claws and fangs in huge humanoid bodies, lumbered forward and seized the chains binding Diana, using them to drag her roughly across the floor towards a rough wooden post just behind where Belyllioth was standing. They could easily have lifted and carried her, but seemed to enjoy the act of hauling her naked form over the uneven stonework. Diana endured the rough handling silently, her face a mask of determination.
The post was round and studded with sharp branches up and down its length, two feet wide and rising almost up to the stone ceiling. It was a chilling replica of the torture stake that both the demoness and Diana had been bound to five years ago, complete with rawhide thongs at the top and bottom which the monsters used to tie Diana to the post. The beast tied her legs so they were spread to either side and bent back just enough to prevent her taking her weight on anything but her toes. They looped the top cords through the links of her chains to avoid having to loose her hands while they secured her.
Belyllioth paced forward languidly to stand in front of her captive during this procedure, the women equally tall due to the Amazon’s slight crouch and letting them look each other in the eyes. With her arms pulled up above her Diana’s shoulders were elevated on either side of her face, her breasts riding high with the nipples pointed directly at the chest of the demon woman. Belyllioth regarded those impressive cups of flesh with relish, then let her amber gaze wander down to the flat stomach and the space between the long athletic legs, where the trimmed v of sable hair sat above the thin dark slit of the Amazon’s womanhood.
The princes of hell snapped her long nailed fingers and one of the demons presented her with a low stand on which a bowl of red hot coals was set. Within the bowl, several long pokers whose metal ends were shaped in the forms of hooks and blades were heating to a bright cherry red. Diana looked at the implements with disdain as the other woman turned one slowly, making tiny sparks dance amid the embers. Then she smiled pitilessly and slowly lifted the glowing barbed head towards her victim.
Part II
Birds of Prey
As Lady Blackhawk, and as the current pilot for the Birds of Prey, Zinda was used to flying, but usually it involved a plane. Flying across a storeroom and coming to a bone-crunching halt against the far wall was far less pleasant. Slumping to the stone floor, she rolled over with a groan, tossing her long blonde hair back over her shoulders. 'You’re gonna pay for this dance, darlin’,’ she grunted, clutching her ribs.
She pulled herself up, using the wall for support, feeling the pain of what was probably bruised ribs still but getting up to stand straight against her attacker.
My
Daddy didn’t teach me to lie down and roll over, pal.
She was dressed in her flying gear, a tight black leather top buttoned down one side and with her old squadron insignia, a black hawks head filling a yellow circle, over her heart. Her black pilots hat had the same symbol over its visor. The belt around her waist sported two holsters, now currently empty, while below that her outfit was made of up a sable skirt that barely came down below her shapely thighs and a pair of high black boots. All in all, she looked more like a World War 2 caricature of a female pilot. Which was ironic, since a World War 2 fighter pilot ace was exactly what the gorgeous blonde woman was.
During the war against Nazi Germany Zinda had joined the allied fighter plan group led by the dashing Blackhawk, after which the squadron was named. Being the only female in the group, she had quickly been dubbed “Lady Blackhawk” by the flyboys they fought alongside. Zinda understood enough of this later decade into which she had recently been thrust (by a totally unlikely series of events) to know that most modern women would have blanched at that name and were scandalized by her uniform, decrying it as denigrating to her gender.
That was usually just before she pointed up at the sky and asked the same women if they ever complained about guys like Superman getting around in body-hugging spandex and bright red underwear.
Since arriving in this later time, Zinda had availed herself of the changes in the world, mostly in the form of enjoying the incredible breakthroughs in aircraft design. That was how the woman named Oracle had found her and offered her a job, chief pilot to a group of female crime-fighters calling themselves the Birds of Prey. The name alone was enough to peak Zinda’s interest, and soon she found herself accompanying Oracle’s field agents Black Canary and the Huntress on missions all over the world, most lately to the island home of the Amazons.
Zinda had often heard of the exploits of Wonder Woman during the war but had never had the chance to meet her in person. This had seemed like a perfect opportunity.
That idea might need some reviewing, she thought as she swayed to her feet.
She squared up against the man approaching her, noting his powerful physique and waiting to the best possible moment to throw the haymaker that cracked him across the jaw. The white gloves over her hand did nothing to blunt the force of the punch that had laid out both German stormtroopers and overly-friendly allied troops with equal ease.
But this time it was the blond pilot who gasped in pain. She drew back her hand, cradling it instinctively as she felt the knuckles under her glove fracture. 'Son of a whore!' she exclaimed in a hiss.
‘So, you thought a little girl could hurt one who wears the uniform of the third Reich?’ the towering figure asked her in thickly accented English.
Unlikely as it seemed, the man facing her was dressed even less politically correctly than Zinda herself. His ‘uniform’ consisted of a bright grin body-hugging suit, decorated with braided gold epilates across his broad shoulders and with a high, stiff red collar. He was square jawed and had blond hair like herself, but his was styled in a severe flat-topped cut. Also like her, he wore gloves, though his were a flamboyant yellow affair, and upon his impressive chest was emblazoned a white swastika on a black circular field.
The green costumed man stood smiling at her, but his bright blue eyes were as cold as winter. There was no compassion or mercy in that gaze, only the willingness to do violence and the twisted morals with which to truly enjoy it.
Zinda stood steady and regarded the man who has tossed her twenty feet as if she had been no more than a rag doll. 'Third Reich?’ she murmured, feigning confusion, then broke into a mocking smile of her own. ‘Yeah, I remember some fancy boys calling themselves that a while back.’ She eyed his costume up and down. ‘You must be the only one didn’t kill himself, huh?'
His face was filled with hate, but also with a terrible anticipation. ‘I may be the last true soldier of our glorious Reich, but I am good enough to teach you respect and fear,’ he replied.
'Oh darlin’, I should tell you straight up,’ she said, smiling coyly, ‘I am one slow learner.’ And with a lightning move, her knee was rising up and smashing into his groin. Zinda stood back, waiting for him to fall.
Nothing happened. The two adversaries stood staring at each other for a silent moment.
‘Nuts,’ she said at last.
Zinda leapt sideways, trying to get some distance, but her battered ribs slowed her. His gloved hand flew out, catching her easily around the neck and holding her. She gasped, grabbing his hand and trying in vain to pull it loose. ‘Your pitiful skills are not match for the uber-might of Captain Nazi, Amercian whore,’ he sneered.
The blonds’ eyes grew wider, but not from the grip on her airway. ‘Captain Nazi?! That’s…what you call yourself?’ She dragged more air into her lungs through the narrowing windpipe. ‘Geez…did you…loose a bet…with old Adolph?’
The Germans’ burned a little brighter and his grip tightened. ‘How do you feel now?’ he said to her as he dug his fingers around her throat to throttle her. Wheezing sounds came from his victim. ‘Still vant to make jokes, pretty girl?’
'You...you’re a real pain in the neck...know that sport!' she hissed, as her breasts under the tight black leather uniform top rose and fell fitfully. Her long legs jerked in the air as she struggled to break free. Still smiling, he took all her effort in stride, even when she twisted enough to bring her elbows smashing into his stomach. The move hurt her more than him as her ribs sends waves of pain through her. Zinda cried out, dreadfully aware the power in his hands – had he wanted to, he could snap her neck like a twig.
‘Good hit bitch,’ he said wiping at this green uniform where she had connected. Then with horrible ease he twisted her so that she was facing away from him, pulling her close with the hand around her neck and using the other to wrench the arm she had struck with up behind her back with brutal force ‘If you go on with this, you will damage yourself more then I will.’
Again she tried to pull away, glaring at him. ‘You ain’t never gone hear me beg, Nazi,’ she spat. ‘That’s a promise!’
‘That’s vat they alvays say, at the start,’ he smiled, and smashed her back to the wall. She cried out, her body crashing into her bricks, driving the air from her lungs as inside her leathers her breasts were flattened against the hard surface. As crushing pain flared in her chest he released her and stood back. Zinda staggered around, spitting a little blood, folding back to lean against the wall behind her.
‘Hmmm ... it seems that you’re a real brave fighter, eh? So stand up straight and I vill show you who’s the best,’ he said to her, his face both angry and happy.
The blonde pilot tried to breathe but the pain was intensifying as she stood up slowly. The green costumed Nazi stood in front of her and watched her with sadistic pleasure, noting especially how her full breasts moved fitfully inside her jacket.
‘Hey, you gonna look at my top or fight' she said insolently, then spat another gobbet of blood on the swastika on his chest. ‘Cmon,’ she beckoned with her fingers, ‘show ol’ Zinda the good stuff.’
His only reply was a cruel smile, and then he moved faster than she could follow, smashing a high kick at her breasts. His boot slammed into the yielding curves and mashed them, the pain horrible for her as she felt another rib broken despite the cushioning of her chest. Zinda screamed, driven back into the wall and then clutching her boob, tears running down her face.
‘Yeah, see now...that’s…that’s the spirit Fritz,’ she moaned, eyes closed.
‘I shall break every bone inside you before I kill you, woman, I promise that,’ he said flatly. ‘You will lie at my feet like a broken doll and plead for death.’
She opened one eye to Look up at him. 'Bring it, don’t sing it,’ she sobbed.
‘As the lady wishes,’ he said in a mockery of respect. He went forward ignored her hammer punch to his jaw to grab her by her throat front of her jacket, lifting her up off her toes. ‘Now you can lord it over me,’ he chuckled, and then his other fist was slamming into her chest. One again agony flared in her breasts, her twin mounds throbbing with pain as he jerked in his grasp.
‘AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR!’
Her body was twitching delightfully in spite of his comments on her appearance, the hem of her skirt barely concealing the space between her two thighs. Fighting against the pain throbbing in her breasts Zinda brought up her booted feet and drive her heel into his jaw once, twice.
‘I shall send you to a hell that you never could imagine,’ he said, as he shifted his head back around to face her. He pulled her down close to him so he could look straight into her eyes, then he rammed his knee up between her dangling legs.
‘EEEEEEEAAAAAAAARRRRRHHHHHH!’
The woman pilot’s scream was piercing. She felt her womanhood ablaze with pain and sobbed in anguish, her head thrown back. ‘That is the music I vant to hear,’ Nazi laughed. Her hands clutched his arms holding her as she thrashed in his grasp
‘Oh God!!!’ she moaned brokenly. Her pussy…her pussy felt ruptured. Explosions of pain were going off behind her eyes like flashes of artillery shells. ‘More is on the way,’ she heard his sadistic voice promising, as he opened the grip and let her fall. She collapsed in front of him, curling into a ball with her skirt askew over her shapely ass while she held onto his boot, sobbing quietly. With a contemptuous laugh he rammed his boot against her ass so she was pushed flat to the ground. Zinda fell forward heavily, her boobs belting a new rhythm of pain as she hit the hard floor, then yelped as she was jerked to her feet then by his gloved fingers wrapped in her hair and pulling her up easily.
I haf not had such a nice target for a long time,’ he smiled. ‘Now, let us see vat you can take.’
His free hand darted forward and this time he grabbed her by her breasts, grabbed and held on, closing a remorseless fist around them like an iron claw. She shifted her grip to grab his hand instinctively, her leather jacket no protection against the terrible force squashing her female orbs. Groaning loudly she felt her boobs being crushed in his vice like grip, tighter and tighter, the leather jacket creaking as her tits were mashed inside. She heaved and tried to pull herself free, kicking him with all the strength in her legs, sobs of anguish gurgling up in her throat.
‘Yes, you are fighting back – that’s good for me,’ he laughed. He shoved her with her back to the wall and savoured her gasping in pain. He looked into her eyes and could see the defiance in her face, her hands gripping his thick wrists and trying to pull herself free. He laughed aloud and listened to the woman moaning in pain as his fingers pushed deeper and deeper into her tit flesh. As the leather jacket started to tear under the abuse, he rammed his knee into her stomach.
‘GGGGUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNHHH!’
Zinda let go of the hands crushing her breasts and dry retched as her stomach was hammered, heaving pathetically as she hung by her imprisoned tits. Tears ran down her face - she was sure she could feel her boobs bleeding inside her jacket. As she hung in his grip like a pinned insect he finally ripped of her leather top, shredding the tough material like it was tissue paper. As she slumped back again against the stone behind her, her horrified mind was imagining what her two mammaries would look like – blood soaked, mangled, mutilated.
Seizing her courage Zinda looked down. The orbs nestled in the white bra under her dishevelled shirt were bruised and in some places red ichor had risen to the surface where Nazi had ruptured small blood vessels in her skin. With sick dread she also saw a few drops of blood dripping onto the floor from between her legs.
‘Your body is my battlefield now,’ he growled, watching her while she fought to find her footing with her leather booted feet. ‘Time for a proper German hug, perhaps?’ he asked her.
‘Pig,' she hissed. She lunged at him and he stepped back, easily fending off her attack. Then while she still had her weight forward, his arms wrapped around her body and yanked her to him, trapping her arms to her sides and squeezing the air out of her lungs.
Zinda felt herself crushed against his rock hard body, her breasts still full of pain and now stomach a nest of suffering. In his turn, Nazi could feel every curve of her buxom figure planted firmly against his own. Slowly he made the grip tighter while she dangled in his arms, legs kicking powerfully as she sensed his pleasure about her suffering. She hammered her boots and knees against him with all of her power left, to no avail. Instead, the gorgeous pilot felt her ribs being crushed in his encircling limbs, and the full measure of his evil pleasure was hard between her legs as he pulled her to him. She arched her back, trying to pull away from him, her breasts swollen and bulging under the remains of her uniform. Desperately she tried to use her fists against the man as they were clamped to her sides. He just smiled and slowly made his double-arm grasp tighter around her.
Feeling her lungs starting to burn, Zinda took gulping breaths. Her bruised ribs were grinding against each other and she gritted her teeth in pain. She had taken a bullet before and knew about pushing aside physical suffering, but the punishment now was also combined with a quickly growing feeling of utter helplessness. Her booted feet continued flailing uselessly against his legs as her short skirt rode up to reveal her perfect ass.
With his mighty arms straining to compress the blonde hellcat, Nazi could feel every nuance of her ripe curves as they were mercilessly crushed against his own superb Aryan frame. He wanted to press her like piece of ripe fruit, until the sweet juices flowed out. She kept wriggling like a blonde serpent in his grip, and then…
CRACK
The sound was like a green twig being snapped inside a wet towel. Zinda’s mouth went wide and she leaned so far back he though he might have accidentally snapped her spine.
In her head, the pilot was screaming. She could feel that one of her her ribs had broken, a small prelude that promised to become more and more agonizing as the rest of her ribs broke, one by one, slow and painful. The ends of the break ground against each other inside her, just above her sternum, and she hauled with all her strength, trying to pull free.
SNAP,‘…aaahhhhhHHHHHH!’
‘This is not the end, Darling,’ she heard him saying as he looked at her anguished features with hate in his eyes. ‘Only the beginning, ja? The woman was leaning her body back so the rise of her breasts under the torn leather rose before his eyes.
‘GGGGGGNNNNNNNNN!!’
Despite her pain and lack of breath the American woman struggled on, almost heroically - a hold-over no doubt of her own Aryan roots that were evident in her beauty and golden hair. True, she had been ruined by stupid American ideals and corruption, but feeling her vibrant body thrashing in his arms, he could think of ways she might still serve the purposes of the Reich.
Part III
Birds of Prey
Black
Canary and Donna sprang up as the door to the cell-block slid open. Slade Wilson, Deathstroke the Terminator,
came in without comment, the light glinting off his black scale armour as he
carried an unconscious Amazon over his shoulder.
‘Artemis!’
Donna cried out, coming to the edge of the cell. Even without close inspection,
she could see the terrible damage that had been done to the red haired warrior
woman. She was covered in drying blood, and what looked like second-degree burns
made ugly patters on her tanned skin.
‘You
bastard, Wilson!’ the Canary hissed. ‘I knew you were a psycho, but this…’
Deathstroke
dumped Artemis into a cell and secured it, testing the door to make sure it was
properly locked, then turned to cast his good eye in the direction of the
seething blonde crime fighter. ‘Not my doing, Ms Lance.’ Dinah returned his
stare with contempt. ‘Though I must say I’m impressed with her courage – not
many women I know would let themselves be worked over by demons like that
without cracking.’
‘Demons?’ Donna said, half in
disbelief.
‘We
represent a lot of interested parties,’ Deathstroke said simply. He turned to
go.
‘I
always thought that you had some kind of warrior code of ethics,
Deathstroke
paused at the door. As usual, his expression behind that black and tan full
head mask was unreadable. ‘Anyone who
puts to words Amazon and defenceless in the same sentence deserves whatever he
gets,’ he replied. ‘And what I condone –
is getting paid. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some long overdue personal
business to take care of.’
He
cast a brief but meaningful look in Donna’s direction, but said nothing more as
the door closed with a thud.
***
Elsewhere,
Dr Moon looked up at his new subject, who had only just regained
consciousness. He would have preferred
to continue with the blonde Power Girl, but this next step of the research was
one he was better suited to conduct than the eminently gifted but
technologically less advanced Crime Doctor.
So he had forced himself to leave that pleasure to his star-spectacled
colleague.
People
had no idea of the sacrifices he made for science.
This
one called herself the Huntress. Such colourful names they came up with,
usually the limit of their creative intelligence, though the woman apparently
liked to model herself after
The
black tressed heroine tossed her hair out of her eyes and glared at him from
behind her dark purple mask. ‘I’m going
to make you eat those glasses when I get out her, you greasy little shit,’ she
snarled.
Moon
sighed. Perhaps not.
‘You
are a remarkable physical specimen, I must say,’ he said, trying to be patient.
They had strapped her into a set of leather cuffs attached to bolts in the
floor and ceiling of the stone room, the bindings holding the woman suspended
spread-eagled in mid-air with her upper body slightly forward of her legs, so
that she seemed to be leaning over Moon as he stood in front of her. He knew
the weight on her shoulders would be starting to cause her discomfort but apart
from some perspiration around her chest and arms, she showed no fatigue. His
eyes took in her now mostly naked body, a lean, 5 feet ten inches of tones
athleticism. They had left her mask on more as a mockery than anything else,
and the only other clothing she had was the remains of her long gloves and the
thigh high boots on her legs and feet. Objectively he understood that her trim
curves, nicely formed breasts, and tight stomach and buttocks made her
physically attractive to about 96.4% of heterosexual Caucasian males [and a
large minority of females, too], but his own interests tended more towards how
much that well honed body allowed her to endure physically.
His
eyes lingered for a moment on the neatly shaved hair of her pubis, and he found
himself smiling slightly. Well, he
wasn’t a robot, after all.
Hanging
with her feet 8 inches off the ground,
‘You
see, that is your trouble right there, woman,’ he said, looking up at her. His
tone was like a professor lecturing a lazy student. ‘You limit your thinking. Wasteful.’ He placed his hands behind his back. ‘The true scholar opens his mind to all opportunities. And possibilities,’ he added, happily.
‘For
example,’ he went on, walking around her as she moved her head to follow him,
‘my interest is in the working of the central nervous system, as can measured by the application of stimulus. Also
on the functioning of the higher cognitive areas under such stimulation.’
‘I
can see how a person like you would be interested in improving his mind,’
Huntress said.
‘Thank
you,’ Moon replied with a nod.
‘What
with you being a hopeless mental case.’
Moon
affected not to notice the crass American humour. ‘We have already had some fascinating results
with new technology courtesy of your very durable associate, Power Girl.’
That
made
‘You
are sceptical? Good – one prefers to be challenged by differing opinions every
now and then. As I said, we have made
some inroads in understanding more about stimulation of the pain response; the
next step is to investigate more aberrant possibilities.’ He paused and looked
at his prisoner. ‘That means unusual,’
he said with a smirk.
Keep talking, smart guy. Just give
me chance to wiggle out of these damn cuffs and I’ll show you my idea of funny.
You’ll fucking die laughing! ‘Is there a point lurking somewhere around here,’ she
said, still following his measured pacing, ‘or are you planning to torture me
by giving me a stiff neck.’
She’d
said it. Torture.
Dinah, at least I wont
have to watch you suffering, too, this time.
She did
not let herself admit that she also wished Dinah were here to help her face
this.
‘Quite
right,’ Moon conceded with another of those little nods. ‘Let us “get to business,” as they say.’
Moon
thumbed a button on s device around his wrist, and a panel in the wall in front
of them slid away silently. Beyond it,
The
girl seemed no older than 25, but of course that was an illusion. As one of the
Themyscrian Amazons, she had already lived for thousands of years, the blessing
of their gods making them effectively immortal. Her hair was long and the
colour of ripe wheat, and her face was one of indescribable loveliness, with expressive
crystal blue eyes and a strong chin, red lips, and classically beautiful
features. She was tall and lithe, fulsome in the bust with a narrow waist and
very long legs. Her body was barely concealed by the ragged remains of her tunic, evidence of the struggle had put up, the light
bruises on her arms and legs and the slight cut on one lip further testimony to
her resistance.
I know at least one,
‘She
has information that my employers would find useful,’ Moon continued, looking
at Cassandra, ‘but up ‘til now she’s proven…stubborn. We intend to change
that.’ He glanced back at the limber heroine. ‘That is, unless you’d like to
answer some questions yourself.’
‘I
see,’ Moon answered, correctly interpreting her silence. ‘Well, maybe we can
help you empathize a bit more with poor Miss Cassandra
here.’
There
was a buzzing sound behind her, and feeling like something attaching to her
skin at the back of her neck, like a needle that had pricked painfully. Suddenly
she felt a wave of hot pain stabbing into the back of her skull. She felt a hot flash going through her
brain...her eyes snapped wide open and her mouth gaped. Then the flash was
gone...and she felt something else.
She
licked her lips, feeling her neither lip slightly split...had she bitten herself?
No, she felt something else...she felt her arms held down at her sides, yet
they were raised high up in the air.
In
the room, men dressed in the uniforms of Deathstrokes mercenary soldiers but
stripped to the waist,were now approaching Cassandra. Each
of them had the kind of hard body that looked like he could have snapped her
like a twig, but she gazed at them with defiance. But, in her mind,
Moon
saw the understanding in her eyes and nodded. 'That right, Huntress – you can
feel everything that Cassandra does; every sensation, and every emotion, though
the chip we just implanted into you spinal cord. A little something extra in
the chip which myself and the Crime Doctor have been field testing on dear
Power Girl. I know that as a “super-heroine”,’ and he made air quotes with this
fingers, ‘you are prepared to accept any pain.’ He paused for effect. ‘But I wonder
how it will feel for you to experience it though the experience of someone
less…extroverted.'
‘All
warriors, perhaps, but are all warriors are created equal?' Moon mused, 'Well,
I suppose we'll find out.'
The
men in the room were standing over their Amazon captive now, and
Their
thoughts were as plain as they were bestial.
‘You
want to prove to me that your men are filth?’ the brunette sneered. ‘You have
succeeded, already!’ She flexed her wiry
muscles again, but it was hopeless. There was nothing she could do as she felt
Cassandra struggling as well, equally powerless.
'Seems
this bitch refuses to tell us anything useful,' one of the men in the room said.
‘Maybe she don’t speak English.’
Cassandra glared at them without reply.
‘Nah
she understands us just fine, don’t you sweety?’ laughed another. ‘We’ve just
gotta motivate her.’ He went to a table nearby and came back with a electronic device, shaped like a nightstick but with
buttons and a some sort of lamp at one end.
Huntress
felt her skin crawl and her stomach tighten...her breathing becoming heavier.
They weren’t her feelings, yet there was no way of separating herself from
them...she was feeling exactly what Cassandra felt...the feeling in her belly
growing more queasy by the second.
‘This
here is called a pain lance,’ the merc said to the captive blonde beauty. ‘It
emits radiation from the tip at various levels - I wouldn’t expect a backward
hick like you to understand the tech.’ Huntress felt the hot flush of outrage,
the knowledge that Cassandra’s intellect outstripped all three men combined - a
surge of indignation going through Cassandra and Helena...even subduing
"their" fear for a second.
‘It
has various setting of intensity,’ the thug went on. ‘This is one.’
The
man activated the rod, the tip glowing, and moved it towards Cassandra’s lower
arm.
Huntress
felt her own arm tense, and tried to impose her will on the emotions being
pumped into her. Cassandra was strong, and she felt her resolve to endure this
without breaking. But would she? She was all too aware of the anxiety...the
frantic mind of Cassandra looking for a way to free herself...and her
determination not to give into whatever was coming against her this very moment.
The
lance touched her arm, and both women felt the sting of a bee, but prolonged,
moving down smooth flesh. Uncomfortable, but endurable, until
at last it moved away.
Cassandra
glanced down, and
'Now
this,' the man smiled, ' is two.'
The
lance touched her arm again, and this time instead of stinging, there was
burning.
‘Hey
she can talk,’ said one of the men.
‘Or
at least yelp,’ laughed another.
‘Maybe,’
mused the man with the rod, ‘if we try somewhere more…personal…’
They
chuckled and one man produced a knife, moving towards the helpless woman on the
platform. He ran the blade over her shoulders, then down over the soft curve of
her breasts. Huntress hung in space feeling her own tits quiver, the tightening
of Cassandra's nipples at the thought to that steel cutting her. Moon took time
to look at
Despite
being almost nude Huntress felt a piece of garment fall away from her breast. She
felt oddly humiliated by the sensation of being forcibly undressed while having
been stark naked for hours, already. She felt cool air running over her body
when really she was already chilled with sweat, and saw her fellow prisoner’s
breasts being bared for the men in the room. One whistled in appreciation.
‘Look at those Amazon titties,’ he said in awe, and indeed even by Themyscrian
standards, Cassandra’s chest was impressive.
He
took one of the proudly erect, hard nipples between thumb and index finger and tightened
his grip. The full and ripe breast trembled as he touched the orange teat,
pinching it. Cassandra closed her eyes, the black haired heroine watching
sharing her hurt; to her pride more than her body.
‘Reckon
these ta-tas must be pretty sensitive, boys?’ one man asked.
‘We’d
better find out,’ said the lance holder.
Cassandra’s
breathing quickened. She gulped,
<I
will tell you nothing,> the lore mistress snarled in Themyscrian.
‘Sorry
bitch, you'll have to learn English,’ said the rod holder.
Huntress
pressed her lips together and closed her eyes...fighting the pain in her own
breast...feeling the rod burning away at her skin and sending its terrible pain
into her mammal globe. She was experiencing everything the tortured Amazon did
except the actual physical damage. Sweat broke out on her forehead and began
matting her glorious, midnight mane. She felt her nipple shrink and harden even
more under the heat.
Hold on, she urged Cassandra
inside her mind. Hold on, hold on!
Then
glowing rod was doing a lazy circle of the blondes tit
mound, filling the firm softness with terrible heat. The men snickered and
giggled as they watch Cassandra squirm in her restraints, frantically trying to
turn her breasts away from the burning rod, her moves mimicked for an audience
of one in the adjoining chamber. The beautiful librarian pressed her lips
tight, struggling to remain somehow in control,
Huntress
shook it away in rage, urging Cassandra to be brave. And in the room of horrors
the girl was fighting, fighting with all she had. It was Huntress that was
trembling with fatigue and despair. She cursed the weakness creeping up inside
her, knowing that Cassandra was struggling on. A woman who devoted her whole
life to books, and she was facing pain and suffering as bravely as any woman
The
man lifted the rod. Cassandra’s left tit was traced with a patchwork of red
marks, all still burning ferociously. ‘Well, anything to say now, slut,’ he
smiled. And Cassandra…
…spat
in his face!
‘You
stuck up cunt!’ the man cursed, punching his fist into her burned, hot left
tit. Cassandra screamed and Huntress thrashed in her bonds, her breast feeling
like it wanted to explode. ‘Do the other
one!’ one of his friends urged., but another said, ‘No, lets heat up the other
tit even more and then beat the shit out of it!’
‘This
could end, you know,’ Moon offered.
‘Some little bit of information, something we would find useful. For example – how a pair of costumed
vigilantes end up playing escort to a crippled librarian from
And
if she refused to say anything they wanted to hear, Cassandra would be tortured
while
Huntress
had been raised as a staunch Catholic from childhood and experienced her fair
share of guilt. But this was the first time she had truly known that she was
damned.
Part IV
Diana
The woman’s scream echoed around the chamber, bouncing off the stone walls in a long undulating note of suffering before lapsing into silence.
Belyllioth eyed the long red scar where the hook had gouged the flesh of the Amazon’s leg, halfway between her waist and her knee. The fiery heating of the metal meant there was less blood, but the ragged three-inch gash still oozed red, the skin mottled and blistered by the searing contact of the curved metal tool.
It had taken over an hour to wrench that first true sound of pain from her subject, and the demon general was sweating almost as much as the bound Princess. She licked her orange lips, savouring the sight of the mortal woman’s body adorned in blood and scars. As a demon, she appreciated the pleasure of inflicting pain on others, and as a female of her species she was able to admire the sensual appeal of the Amazon’s body in a way more subtle than the brutal lusts of her male counterparts. The view of this woman suffering under duress was a potent combination, and Belyllioth let is warm glow course through her own nubile figure.
‘So beautiful,’ the demoness said softly, reaching up to stroke the bound heroines’ long black hair. ‘You are a joy for me to torture, Amazon, even more than the whore Artemis.’
‘I thought…you and Artemis…were friends,’ Diana said in a strained voice. The gift of the goddess Demeter that granted her the strength from the Earth allowed her body to heal more swiftly than that of a normal woman, but even she could not lightly put aside the physical damage of the hellish instuments; or the accompanying anguish these creatures were doing to her.
‘Allies,’ Belyllioth corrected. ‘Now. But when we were both consorts of the same master he would sometimes amuse himself by having one of us taken to his torture chamber and the other work to make her scream in purest agony. Then we would have to trade places. The one who did the best job of making her victim suffer would earn the right to receive Dalkrigg-Hath’s cock while the loser would watch from whatever pain device he found most entertaining at the time.’ The princess of hell smiled wickedly. ‘Did Artemis never tell you this?’
Diana’s blue eyes showed the tiniest flicker of uncertainty. ‘I did not see the need…to inquire…her doings in the Underworld,’ she replied.
Belyllioth smiled wickedly. ‘Or perhaps you did not wish to hear what your Amazon sister would stoop to; the acts of vile cruelty and degradation she was capable of. And Artemis was a most willing and attentive student in learning our ways. Only a week after her arrival she joined with me in licking the phallus of the demon prince while he watched an escaped slave girl raped by the castles hunting dogs, and then roasted over a slow fire.’
Diana closed her eyes, wishing desperately that she could say that she knew the words were lies. She had always known that as a member of the demon princes’ circle Artemis must have engaged in acts that she herself would find distasteful, if not vile, but she had pointedly avoided any inquiry into the matter. Diana had convinced herself that Artemis would never participate in acts of wanton evil, but she knew in her heart that for some participation and turning a blind eye were two different things.
‘I see your defence of your sister is somewhat less than zealous,’ Belyllioth gloated. ‘And after you were willing to brave the torments of hell for her, too. How disappointing for you. Well, let’s see how bravely you fare against that ordeal when your red haired saviour isn’t on hand to rescue you.’
The demon lifted the iron once more, and smoke rose lazily from the red hot metal as it drew near to the heroines’ perfect skin. Diana flexed some of the most powerful muscles on Earth immediately as she felt the heat of the fire in the bowl, but as before her power seemed to have deserted her. Her liquid blue eyes fixed the two demons flanking her. The creatures chortled and the glowing hook edged closer, brushing her outer thigh - a faint hissing sound came to her ears as she felt her skin seared by the torture tools caress and instantly pain blazed through her again. Her full lips tightened, pressed hard together to stop a fresh outcry as her eyes narrowed in defiance. Belyllioth melted back into the shadows, the darkness flowing over her body so that only her gleaming eyes could be seen as she watched the scene intently.
‘Well, tough Amazon Princess, that is enough time for talking and resting,’ her voice from the dark spoke softly. ‘Let us begin your appreciation of our culture in earnest!’
Diana wet her lips, shaking her black hair from her eyes. She looked at the demons where they were again preparing the hooks and other implements to having the sick fun with her. She could do nothing against to prevent them, or against the reactions of her body as she noticed with anger that her nipples standing straight, her flesh goose pimpled in dreadful anticipation. Her chest rose and fell as she dragged air into her lungs, the stake creaking as she fought uselessly to free herself and fight back.
‘That’s it, my Amazon , go on with your struggling,’ the demoness whispered from the shadows. ‘Give us the pleasure about watching your body in motion for a while.’
Diana's eyes blazed with indignation but her attention was instantly diverted to the demons again as they stepped closer, ready to once more test their skill and cruelty against her perfect physique and matchless courage. Sweat began to dripping from her fabulous body , glistening in the twilight of the chamber.
‘Which part of her should feel the heat first?’ the voice of one of the creatures chuckled.
PART v
Birds of prey
hUNTRESS
Helena felt a shining tear leaking from her dark eyes and shook it away in rage. These filth did not deserve to see her tears any more than they deserved mercy. She steeled herself, urging Cassandra to be brave.
And the Amazon woman was fighting, fighting with all she had. Yet even so, the street-fighter could feel the weakness and despair creeping up inside her and knowing that it was not hers.
You’re an Amazon she thought bitterly, trying to send the gorgeous captive strength in the same way she received the blond woman’s pain. Act like one!
Moon was equally fascinated by the connection between the two females, but for more detached reasons. The neural relay was apparently functioning perfectly, giving the Huntress access to every bit of pain that the blonde Amazon went through, both physically and emotionally. It was an incredible opportunity to observe the affects of shared pain between two individuals, and the Asian scientist was certain his observations would make the foundation of a truly groundbreaking psychological thesis. Every bit on information he had in Huntress’s profile suggested that this sort of combined physical and mental duress should break her within fifteen minutes.
Helena saw the man in the torture chamber had lifted the rod. Cassandra’s left tit was traced with a patchwork of red marks, all still burning ferociously.
Cassandra sucked in air and looked away as the lance touched her again, and again, setting her soft flesh afire. Her fists clenched as they moved the rod forward, hissing as it tracked around the full boob.
Sssssssssssssssssssssss!
The blonde bit her lip so hard that Helena tasted blood in her mouth, but she barely noticed it as her breast was filled with horrible, horrible pain. The heating rod was moving around the big base of the tit, never leaving he flesh. Helena felt the bastard moving the rod with maddening slowness over "her" tit. He shifted from circling the base higher to travel higher up towards the peak of the mammary, sizzling the silky smooth orb of ripe sexiness.
<Bastards> Huntress heard Cassandra call out, her voice thick with pain. The tall brunette fought to keep her own jaw tight shut, knowing Moon was watching her with sadistic relish.
"What she say?" the one standing by snickered.
"She says she likes it!" the other torturing her with the rod replied, smiling nastily as he leaned over the incredible body strapped down for him. He kept moving the glowing rod, circling it higher and higher around her proud mammal globe while the hiss of smooth Amazon flesh being scorched drifted through the room. He stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth as he smiled and concentrated on keeping the burning metal in contact with the woman’s tit as it jerked and shook with her tortured movements.
<You pigs!> Cassandra almost screamed in her native tongue. She leaned forward as far as she could, sucking in air like a runner and then falling back and shaking her head of long golden hair from side to side.
Helena balled her fists, making sounds of pain through her clenched teeth while enduring Cassandra’s pain with all her courage and resolve. Every inch of her firm young breasts was burning with horrible pain, the awful heat making her twist and moan. Beads of sweat dripped from her splayed body and her long arms and legs were tight with bunched muscles as she tried to tear loose from the shackles. She couldn’t imagine how Cassandra could not be howling in agony as she smelled her own flesh being roasted inch by inch.
Inside the room the men wet their lips, clearly excited by the show. The rod was moving again, up towards the hard, erect nipple atop the full breast. Up and up, leaving a trail of hurt as both tits were glowing with red suffering now. Both the women were crying and wheezing, each breath pushing the soft skin up against the smoking metal and making them hurt more. The merc shifted the rod so that it was circling around the aureole, closing in on the centre of the breast, then moving atop the teat and pressing down on the nipple itself.....sizzling against the nubbin as the tit-tip screamed in agony.
‘AAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!’ The men cheered as Cassandra’s red lips were pulled back in a wide mouthed shriek.
‘NEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRHHH!’ howled Huntress, mirroring her fellow prisoner’s agony. She turned her pain-crazed black eyes on Moon, spittle flying from her own lips. ‘MOTHERFUCKERS! STOP IT YOU FUCKING SICK CUNT!’
‘Not my decision,’ Moon smiled like a demon, as Huntress screamed even louder.
‘Just beg me to stop anytime, woman,’ the man with the tool hissed. Cassandra seemed barely able to understand him through the pain flaming in her mound of female meat. She gurgled piteously, Helena watching with a look of suffering twisting her face and barely able to hold back her own cry. Her own sweet breasts were aflame by the torture inflicted on her fellow captive’s body while she experienced the lovely blonde’s fear and loathing as the rod hung there, burning her endlessly. She could feel Cassandra shaking her head in denial of surrender, and the conviction that the pain must be endured...it simply MUST be endured! Helena repeated the thought inside her own mind as they both felt the torment growing and growing. Cassandra struggled and thrashed her lithe body like a wild cat but there was no escape.
‘Say it you bitch,’ said the man, pushing the rod against her, driving it into the roasting breast flesh. Blood oozed from the ugly burns across the arching flesh.
‘AAAAAEEEEAAAARRRRRR!’
‘Say it,’ he snarled, as his pants bulged with excitement.
Helena bashed her head against the metal frame behind her as she shared the anguish of having her firm young tits slowly burned away. Cassandra was in agony and lost in a tide of pain. The beautiful black haired crime fighter howled, not caring that Moon was watching. The blonde woman was being tortured to death, and Helena knew exactly what she was feeling.
Say it, Helena thought, her naked body tense and bucking with pain. Helena would never have given in herself but she could not bear the horror of what the Amazon librarian was being subjected to. She wanted Cassandra to save herself, end the agony.
‘Say it!’ the man shouted.
Cassandra pulled her body back and forth as she tried to pull her tit free while the rod felt as it were setting her pert pink nipple on fire. She could feel her tit being scorched away, blistering and melting.
<Stop it!> she screamed.
‘YAAAAAAAAAH!’ Helena screamed.
‘In English, you Greek cunt!’
SSSSSSSSSSSSS
Cassandra threw her head around, her blonde hair whipping across her tear streaked face as she made sounds of terrible suffering. The merc pushed the rod all the way in, not stopping until her felt it nudging her ribs under the tit cushion, impaling the burned tit cone so that heated meat bulge out all around the rod. Cassandra flailed her head from side to side...the pain so great, she just couldn’t take it anymore. The sound of sizzling breast meat was competed with the woman high pitched shrieks.
‘It stays in place until you say it in English, you slut! the man snarled, keeping the rod pressed into her mammal globe. The skin was blistering and bursting around the metal probe, hot blood running down the victim’s flat stomach, and Helena felt something inside the suffering Amazon break.
‘STOP IT!’ Cassandra screamed at the top of her lungs. Her ravishing body shone awash with pain sweat as she jerked and convulsed, eyes wide as she howled in agony. ‘STOP IT!!!’
‘Yeah!’ the men yelled. The metal kept burning the screaming woman breast while she sobbed and yowled. ‘Say it again, whore!’
‘MAKE IT STOP!’ Cassandra screamed.
The torturer smiled and slowly....very, very slowly pulled the rod away...drawing out the moment when the probe would actually loose contact with her burned flesh for as long as possible. Cassandra watched as she bit her lip and gave a high pitched moan , praying for it to leave her flesh, the pain not able to end soon enough. She could see her skin peeling back in blood soaked layers as it clung to the heated iron, tearing loose from her as he drew the instrument away. The pain filled her whole world from her breast outwards and the smell of roasting flesh filled the space. Her gorgeous blue eyes were wide with anguish as they made her watch the mutilation of her ripe female orb.
Then the rod left her pain-pulsing tit and the blonde’s head fell back on the table.
‘What I tell you; breast meat is always the best for roasting!’ the mercenary joked, and his companion laughed along. Helena felt like she would be physically sick listening to these pigs joking about how they were brutally torturing an innocent woman for the perverted kicks.
Moon looked at Huntress unblemished body, trembling with shared pain. He observed the reaction of the perfect globes of female flesh on her chest, the action of the nipples as the mammalian organs responded as evolution dictated to stimulus. Professional as he might be, he couldn’t deny the thrill of seeing such beauty exposed for his inspection and vulnerable to his attentions. The scientist did not often indulge the baser impulses of his physiology, but he was self aware enough to understand the need to occasionally purge those lingering animal traits, lest they interfere with his work. He suspected that by the time this session concluded he would need to visit one of the captive Amazons personally.
Not the one in the room, of course. Quite apart from the fact that she was likely to be in no state to provide him with much satisfaction, it would have introduced and unwanted variable to his experiments.
Huntress panted, her own smaller and unmarked breasts heaving, the visual of her perfect, undamaged tits belying the enormous pain eating away inside those firm mounds. The poker was gone but the burns still produced anguish for the blonde records keeper, her breasts sending unceasing messages of pain to her nervous system. Helena could not imagine how Cassandra was not screaming her head off, or unconscious. She wondered if the Amazon passed out would the link be severed, even for just a little while.
‘Your fellow woman is putting up quite a fight,’ Moon commented, checking his displays. ‘The average human female would be begging for mercy by now.’
Huntress sneered, hearing the disdain in his voice on the work female – as if the average human male would be any less inclined to beg under such torture. ‘They are not - normal – women,’ Huntress said, he melodic voice strained and thin. ‘Untie her…and she’ll show you…a fight.’ She flexed her own muscles, pulling herself up a little on the inverted frame. ‘When we get…out of…this…you’ll be… be the one begging…for it to stop…coward!’
‘I can well imagine,’ he agreed. ‘Sadly, you and your “heroines” had your chance to best us, and lost. As in any such struggle, nature demands you pay the price.’
In the torture chamber, the men watched Cassandra recovering. Her breath was ragged, each inhalation stretching her scorched skin, making her wince. ‘So you do speak English,’ the rod holder smiled. ‘Good, that will make this a lot more fun.’
‘Those cow udders of yours won’t feel so good having a man groping and fondling them for quite some time, blondie!’ one of the others snickered, watching the red, scorched breasts rising and falling. She scowled in disgust, refusing to look at him.
‘Why would I enjoy being mauled by a pig at any time,’ she said with disdain, her voice surprisingly clear considering how much pain Helena knew her to be in. The Gotham champion smiled inwardly to hear the Themyscian’s spirit still burned bright, though she knew every word exchanged with these filth was one step back in Cassandra’s resolve.
For their part, the men grimaced, clearly thinking her broken early and taken aback that any woman could endure such treatment and not be begging for their cocks. Reaching over the man watching grabbed the sore tit mound hard and made it bulge around his clenched fist, blood wetting his hand. Huntress shared the librarians hiss of pain, her chest flesh hurting like it was being dragged across hot razors and her back arching as Cassandra’s did. Moon observed the identical reaction with interest and made notes.
‘Does this grant a new perspective on feeling for your sister?’ Moon asked, watching cold sweat shining on Huntress forehead and chest. Huntress did not make Cassandra’s mistake of answering this time, though; she was too busy fighting the anguish in her abused boob as it was ruthlessly crushed. She gasped and choked, pulling at her bonds more vigorously, as the man in the other room twisted Cassandra’s breast around as far as the meaty orb of burned meat would go. The librarian kept her lips pressed tight, eyes closed, a ‘MMMNNNNNNN’ of torment coming from her tight throat.
‘A bit touchy, aren’t we!’ the impassive man grinned, looking down at her breast being cruelly twisted by his companion while blood oozed thickly between his fingers. Her legs were tense, the girl leaning forward to try and take pressure off her captive mammal meat. ‘Well, no need for us to prolong things - we just need to have the access codes to your library computers, slut.’
Cassandra only groaned, but Huntress blinked in acknowledgement of this information. It was no less than she had suspected when she had learned Cassandra’s identity as a records keeper but proof was always desirable. She hoped Cassandra could keep from giving them what they wanted, even though she knew it would be condemning both of them to even more hellish pain.
‘We know you can talk,’ the merc holding her tit said, and gave it another savage twist that made the blonde sob aloud, ‘so talk!’ Cassandra kept her eyes closed, tears staining her cheeks as her mouth moved soundlessly. The torturer grunted and pulled at the tit...literally pulling her long upper torso off the table by her twisted, throbbing breast.
‘GAAAAAHH!!!’
He held her there for a few moments while Helena writhed in her bonds, the sensation of her teat being slowly torn off her chest making her weep and twist her body back and forth - then the bastard in the room let go. Cassandra’s back banged into the tables’ hard surface as her released tit jiggling atop her chest. Slowly resuming it former, perfect, burn marked shape.
Reaching across the man who had burned her breasts grabbed the tits twin and mashed them together. Helena felt the pressure of her mounds being squeezed tight, as she had done so many times while bathing, but this time instead of arousal she felt horrible torment flash amidst her cleavage. The tender inner curves rubbing like sandpaper against each other as the wounds were pushed together, inflaming the pain threefold.
‘You are...animals!’ Huntress heard Cassandra gasp, the blondes breast feeling like it had become a bag of hot coals in her tormentor’s hands...almost to hot for him to hold on to. The heat from the flesh must have filled his own hand but he kept squeezing the two tit cones together as hard as he could, mashing them against each other. Rather than flinching from that heat he seemed to relish it, knowing for his stunning prisoner it was a hundred times worse, her tit meat impregnated with a fiery horror. Her long lashes beaded with tears that rand down her cheeks. The watching superheroine felt them on her own face and also felt the deep shame of an Amazon being made to show such weakness before her enemies.
And she couldn’t help thinking about the fact that Cassandra might actually give into these brutes and give them the access codes...Helena could feel the resolve of the prisoner, rock hard and yet slowly eroding as fear began mixing with the pain. Through the link she felt the man let go of the blonde woman’s tits, and through the glass plate she saw him as he looked down her flat, well-muscled stomach...shiny with perspiration, like a strip of oiled velum in one of the librarian’s records.
The men seemed to sense it too, letting go of the tits only to slap them both together again so they smacked loudly against each other, their eyes now fixed like lasers on the neatly trimmed triangle of curled, blonde hair pointing towards the sweet entrance into her body. While the thug who had used the heating iron set it aside the man who had been mauling her breasts picked up what looked like a metal spike or skewer, eight inches long and wickedly pointed.
‘No need to go high tech all the time,’ he laughed.
The third criminal grabbed Cassandra’s chin, and dragged her head around to look at the implement shining in the light. She watched the spike through half closed eyes.....pushing out her jaw and clearly trying to steel herself against the inevitable.
‘We got told how you bitched got beat once before by Hercules.’ He looked sidelong at the torture instrument in his hand, poised over the magnificent piece of she-meat bound helpless before him. ‘Did they have things like this the first time you bitches were captured back in the day?’ he scoffed. Back when that bad ass Hercules chained you all up and raped you one at a time.
Heracles, you ignorant pig, Huntress thought bitterly, knowing the history of which he spoke. She wondered bitterly how Cassandra had endured on that occasion, what foul barbarities she had been subjected to at the hands of the conquering Greeks, her immortal existence on Paradise Island meaning she had to suffer the same awful fate again now, thousands of years later.
‘Give - us - the codes,’ the man said firmly.
Cassandra looked at the skewer, but shook her head.
‘Wow man,’ one of the men said. ‘You sounded just like that guy in Die Hard when you said that!’
‘Yeah, right before he blew that Jap guys head off,’ laughed the other. ‘I love that movie.’
The paid soldier with the skewer smiled too. Then he slapped the Amazons face with all this strength, snapping her head abound and letting Huntress taste blood in her mouth as he broke the gorgeous prisoners red lip.
‘The codes,’ he growled again.
Hanging in the never-ending pain of the burns on the prisoner’s chest, Helena felt Cassandra seething in anger as she looked at the man. She needed no chip to understand that emotion, or to share it. As she had at other times, she wondered how heroes like the Batman refrained from just hurling these sort of scum off the top of the nearest highrise building.
‘Put that thing through your testicles, and I might consider it!’ the Amazon hissed, and Huntress gave a pinched smile. ‘Atta girl,’ she whispered, her breathing coming in long, laboured inhalations.
Moon watched and made more notes. The stubbornness from the Amazon was not unexpected, given her cultural heritage, but even he was a little surprised as Huntress’ continued defiance. He checked to make sure the neural link was working at one hundred per cent and that she really was feeling the torture to its fullest.
‘I got a better idea,’ the man standing over Cassandra said softly. Then as she and Huntress both watched helplessly, he suddenly stabbed the sharpened point straight down through the Amazon’s firm belly.
Interlude
Birds of Prey
Oracle and Black Canary
Oracle sat in front of the computer screen focusing as she had never focused in her life. The answer was here, she knew now, but she couldn’t see it yet.
At first, her shocking discovery of the gang rape of the Amazons she had left her too stunned, to horrified to think. Everything in her as a woman, as a human being screamed in outrage and anger and lust for vengeance.
Exactly as the fiends in charge of this farce had intended.
One of Barbara’s first lessons from the Batman when she became a crime fighter had been simple – letting your emotion control you will get you killed. In the fight against evil like the Joker and Clayface, emotion was a good servant but a bad mistress.
So, while outwardly she appeared full of rage and disgust, inwardly Barbara remained cool and focussed on her task; find the weakness in the enemy plan.
She kept telling herself it would be that easy
She had been scanning records of their captor’s activities. She had seen for herself what they had done to Dinah and Helena, but she was still shocked to find what tortures had been inflicted on Donna, Starfire, Artemis, Zinda, even Powergirl. It seemed their adversaries were determined to do everything possible to degrade and dehumanize their female prisoners. That might be the MO of some of their captors, but it did not match up with the usual practices of creatures like Vandal Savage and Deathstroke. Villains like them were business first, and there were a dozen easier ways to get reliable information about Amazon secrets then turning Themyscria into an internet rape site.
Something was very, very wrong.
As she continued to pretend to hack the Amazon files, she added a other layer to her deception – assuming these being had another reason for their atypical behaviour, they were probably monitoring her covert activities as well. Meaning they expected her to try and find the weakness in the system. Barbara kept up that charade too, while she diverted a third part of her attention for looking for the pattern in the incongruities of the situation.
The one obvious answer was straightforward – what was happening kept everyone involved too angry and distracted too ask questions. So what questions did the enemy not want them asking?
She kept working but reviewed what she knew about the…incidents…with the other prisoners. All had been tortured brutally, and sexually. A primary rule in detective work was that there were not such things as coincidences, just patterns waiting to be recognized. Whatever was going on here, sexual violence against women was part of agenda. That narrowed the field somewhat.
Barbara applied herself to considering the range of victims – Amazons and superheroines. Women who were confident, beautiful, and powerful. Their enemy didn’t just want any victims. They targeted women who were perceived as independent and above all strong, both physically and mentally.
Mentally.
Something that had been niggling at the back of Oracles brain suddenly came to the forefront. She knew her reasons for being here on Themyscria along with Huntress and Black Canary and Zinda, but now for the first time she found herself questioning the sense of it. It was no secret she had a relationship with Dinah Lance but that was easily explained as her being the daughter of Jim Gordon, Batman’s pal in Police Headquarters, and her being a victim of the Joker. But she had never made herself high profile by jetting around with Huntress and the rest of the team – that was bound to arouse suspicions. So why had she suddenly decided to break that rule?
She thought hard – they had come to Themyscria to speak with Diana and other heroines about making the world a better place…how? Thinking about it now she had only a vague sense that that was right, she could feel safe in that thought. Her mind seemed to want to tell her that was the truth and she should be happy with that.
That thought more than anything else so far rung the alarm bell in the red-haired detectives head.
***
Dinah woke remembering only a faint wiff of some strange odor and Donna calling out to her from the cell nearby. Her head and shoulder hurt, and she was fairly sure she had injured them falling to the stone floor.
She was standing now, fixed in a set of stocks set flat upon two metal poles, with her head fixed through the centre hole and her hands held beside her so that her arms were upright. Her legs were shackled to the poles so that she stood with her feet shoulder width apart. Though she couldn’t see her body she could feel that she was clothed still naked, though she was reasonably certain her stockings had been replaced and she still had her boots on. She was also aware of something around her neck; a choker or a thin collar.
‘Perfect. More House of Bondage wet dreams,’ she said ironically.
She tested her bonds. She had been able to escape bound with police issue handcuffs to a bed by the disturbed villain Savant by being prepared to dislocate her thumb, but these shackles looked to have been created by Amazons to hold creatures fat more dangerous that ordinary human criminals, and she didn’t like her chances of escaping any time soon.
Dinah kept herself calm and looked at her surroundings. There was little light except where she stood, but she was sure she was in a chamber not far from where she had been incarcerated, judging by the stone of the floor. She turned her head with some difficulty and saw a locking mechanism on the stocks, holding the two halves together
She blinked, inhaled, and then screamed.
The piercing cry echoed around the room, but was no louder than any normal woman’s scream. There was no sonic wave, and the lock remained stubbornly closed. She let her voice trail off, eyes narrowed in frustration, and then heard the sound of slow clapping.
The man coming out of the shadows was a figure Dinah knew only too well; brown swashbuckler boot over black chain mail leggings with a matching tunic, pulled tight over a tall imposing physique. His mask was off, revealing a handsome but cold face, topped with winter hair and a styled goatee, and with one good blue eye that met her gaze with calculated calm.
‘Impressive, Ms Lance,’ Deathstroke said mildly. ‘Sadly ineffective under the circumstances, but a tribute to your lung power non-the-less.’
The Canary met the Terminator’s single-eyed gaze impassively. With most other villains and considering her wardrobe, the remark about lung-power would have been a less than subtle reference to her not unimpressive rack. But Slade Wilson, the physically enhance mercenary killer Deathstroke, was different. He never let passion get involved in his work. Somehow the fact that he did not regard her in such basic terms made her situation more chilling, not less.
‘Okay,’ said Dinah. ‘I guess since you knew a way to enhance my power, then you’d know a way to nullify it. Care to let me in on the secret?’
‘The choker around you neck,’ Wilson answered without the slightest pause. His air of confidence was palpable in the room. ‘Paralyses you vocal cords above the range of normal human sonics. It could render you completely mute, but I prefer you vocal for the moment.’ He raised an eye-brow. ‘More civilized than a wad of cloth shoved in your mouth, don’t you think.’
Dinah blinked once at the knowledge Deathstroke knew about her earlier torture, but nothing showed. He was playing chess with her, probing for vulnerable spots. He smiled a little at her own discipline, and she decided to see how much she could get him to reveal. ‘If you call taking hundreds of women hostage and participating in their rape and torture for sick thrills civilized, then yeah, I guess this is the goddamn Russian Ballet.’
Wilson came closer and kept looking her right in the eyes, the body that combined the best attributes of a ninja and a centrefold apparently unnoticed by him. ‘Savage’s plans are of less concern to me than his bank accounts, Ms Lance. Right at this moment, you should be more interested in you own circumstances.’ As he spoke he took off his gloves and tossed them aside into the shadows, placing his hands on his hips.
‘Hmm, lets see,’ Dinah replied, with as much sarcasm as she could muster. It was considerable. ‘You’ve got a naked blonde tied up in a dark room, and you’re a sick maniac who doest give a damn about right and wrong. I wonder where this is going?
Wilson’s good eye stayed impassive. ‘You misunderstand, Canary. Like everything else in this venture, this scenario is business, pure and simple. At least as far as your part in it is concerned.’
Something in those words sent a cold shiver up Dinah’s spine. ‘If you’ve hurt Huntress, Slade…’
‘Your sidekick is fine. I have no personal interest in her – or you. You are merely a means to an end.’
Dinah thought how Helena was going to react when she heard about Slade calling her Dihah’s sidekick. Some poor mugger would lose a few extra teeth for that comment. But she felt her sense of foreboding getting stronger. ‘What end?’ she asked.
Slade’s hand wandered up to his eye-patch. ‘I’ve been doing this a long time, Canary, since before you could fill out those cute little fishnets. People trying to kill you is just another day at the office, so believe me when I say it takes a lot to get,’ he tapped the eye patch meaningfully, ‘...under my skin.’
Dinah felt the chill move from her spine and coil up in her belly. ‘Ollie,’ she said quietly.
‘Nice of him to drop the insulting pretence of hiding behind that mask.’ Slade’s hand came up and grasped Canary’s face – his grip was gently, but the strength of it was undeniable. He could have broken her jaw just by squeezing hard. ‘Your boyfriend did something very few people have ever done to me, Canary, and that none have survived.’ Wilson leaned in closer. ‘He made our business personal.’
‘Just because he shoved an arrow in your eye while your were trying to kill us?’ Dinah mocked. ‘Be grateful he left you with the good one.’
‘I am,’ Slade countered, his smile tight and grim. ‘In fact, I’m going to send him a thank you present.’
***
The two figures in the control room watched the exchange between Black Canary and Deathstoke and smiled. ‘This is going to be fun,’ the shorter one said happily.
‘Yes,’ agreed his counterpart, ‘but you might want to take some time to look in on Barbara Gordon.’
The first touched a button and the main screen picture was replaced by a view of the wheelchair bound red-head. She continued to work furiously at trying to hack the Amazon computers while scanning the computer network for information about her companions. ‘Still running the maze, from the looks of it.’
‘No, something is different,’ said the other. ‘Her focus has shifted.’ He paused. ‘It still bothers me that her presence here is an anomaly.’
‘She’s a librarian,’ said the short viewer. ‘How much of a threat can she be.’
‘An interesting observation, considering,’ said the tall figure, eyeing his partner meaningfully.’
The other figure was quiet for a moment. ‘Okay, point taken,’ he conceded. ‘Perhaps she needs something else to occupy her mind.’
‘Agreed. Should we let her watch Black Canary again,’
The short figure was again quiet a moment. ‘No, I hate to repeat myself, and it’s obvious they have a connection. I’d prefer their next time together to be up close and personal. Lets give her something to really get her focused.’ He smiled and his hands moved to the control panel in front of him.
***
Barbara almost jumped as the voice came over the room speakers again, chillingly happy. ‘You don’t seem to have made much progress, Ms Gordon.’
She felt her stomach turn to ice, but concentrated on making her voice sound stressed and frustrated. It wasn’t hard. ‘Did I mention the part where I’m a librarian trying to hack into one of the most secure computer systems on Earth.?’
‘Ad nauseum,’ came the reply. ‘So much so that we decided you needed to take a little mental break. Think about something else for a while.’
The screens in front of her went momentarily black, then flicked back on. She was looking at views of rooms all over Themyscria, each one filled with a nightmare array of figures. Merlyn the Archer, Deadshot, Captain Cold, the Royal Flush Gang – a plethora of some of the most powerful and evil beings on the planet were scattered across the island, all of them engaged in acts of vile debauchery with the Amazon prisoners. Barbara felt the bile rise and her throat and struggled not to throw up.
But the worst part was what occupied the centre image – the same scene she could see also being shown on the viewers near the cavorting villains, all of them celebrating the unfolding drama in some cavernous chamber and the tall, black haired beauty at the centre of the action.
‘Diana,’ Barbara whispered.
Part vi
Diana
All over the imprisoned Island, screens flickered to life. Oracle could see the feeds appearing in multiple locations as the rogues gallery of villains tuned in the watch Diana’s torment.
‘You clearly have lost sight of how important you efforts are, Ms Gordon,’ the voice from the ceiling said. ‘We trust that this will help remind you.’
Again with the we, Barbara thought, but she had little chance to follow up on that observation. All he video input was bombarding her with alternate shots of the same repulsive viewing, and no matter what she did her mind was unable to escape the horror of it.
The demon warriors stood either side of Diana. Her body glistening the orange light of the fires in the chamber, she glared at them in defiance. Her blue eyes betrayed no sign of weakness or surrender, though the cuts and bruises on her body showed the signs of the suffering she had already endured, both at their hands and since her capture days ago. The two vile beasts ogled at her firm nudity, flicking their slit tongues over their lips, their abnormally huge cocks pointing straight up.
And they were not the only ones. Unknown to the proud Amazon but horribly revealed for Barbara, monitor screens throughout the complex were sending live images of her torment to criminals watching her humiliation with terrible glee, eager to see more of the worlds greatest heroine suffering degradation and disgrace. Bets were being made and money put down on how long she would last, how much she could withstand before being broken. Would she scream in ten minutes, twenty? What torture would the two fiends use next? Would she show signs of fear? What words would come form her lips? Surrender? Terror? Bold defiance?
Barbara could only watch the vile scene unfold, an unwilling audience to sickness on a massive scale, as from behind her rimless glasses tears of outrage spilled down her face.
***
In the chamber itself Diana was aware of a new spectator, his image forming on the wall amid a circle of flame - a manlike figure with blond hair, a chiselled physique clad in skin tight green and silver, sinister good looks, and baleful glowing green eyes
The demons cowered slightly at the sight the newcomer, but Diana though stared brazenly at him, recognizing him from her last visit to the netherworld.
The creature who had killed her - Neron the demon king!
‘Diana.’ Neron’s voice rumbled, ‘so good to see you again. And looking so well,’ he laughed as his eyes roved over her body, naked but for her boots, bracelets, and tiara.
Diana kept still but her mind was filled with the memory of her last time in Neron’s company - how he has set the demon Etrigan to torture her for his amusement while she as tied spread-eagled from wall to wall. She remembered the rank weight of the vile beast perched atop her, using a red hot iron to inflict suffering on her body for the dark lords pleasure. It frustrated and infuriated her, that she seemed destine to go through something like that yet again. Her hands became fists in their shackles and her whole body tensed even more in its tight bondage, seemingly in preparation for battle.
Neron, meanwhile only smiled in recognition of her memory of his hospitality. ‘On that occasion,’ he said, ‘our time together was interrupted by your sister Artemis - who I understand has already been the guest of my new minions here.’ The two torturers giggled in lustful glee at the memory of the red-heads epic suffering. ‘So this time there will be no one to cut short your time with us.’
‘Do not doubt for one moment that this time will end soon enough, Neron, and badly for you and your slaves,’ Diana said evenly; but her eyes were full of cold anger.
‘There are many on your island eager to see how you deal with finally being held accountable for your arrogant virtue, little Amazon,’ Neron chuckled. ‘Strutting about with your pretensions of righteousness while displaying your body in that skimpy little outfit. Flaunting your perfection in their faces while you deny them, humiliate them. It is for them that I set aside some of my valuable time to oversee this matter, so let us not keep them in suspense - I wouldn’t want to,’...he smiled slyly...,’TORTURE them unnecessarily.
Diana seethed at the demon lords own pretensions of virtue. ‘It is you and the evil you foster in the world that makes the armour of me and my sisters and thing of shameful sexuality, Lord of Hell. Those who chose to follow you are only those too weak to rise above their own greed and lust.’
‘Whore needs some lessons!’one of the demon whispered to the other, afraid to speak up in their master’s presence. But Neron laughed, leaning back on his throne.
‘Such wonderful fire, Amazon. We in hell appreciate the brightness of the flames.’ His eyes narrowed in a sinister glare. ‘Let us show you how much.’ Sensing their cue at last the lustful monsters scurried over to return in front of Diana with armloads of strange and evil looking devices, all made of heavy metal and adorned with wheels and vices. ‘Be assured Wonder Woman,’ Neron said happily, ‘you will not die in this chamber…though you may soon beg me for that release.’
Diana’s breathing became heavier, as she beheld the monstrous devices in the claws of her nemesis´ hands. Even her bravery and steel resolve could not prevent her feeling her stomach clench at the sight the instruments of her coming pain. After all, it was not as if she enjoyed being tortured – but that changed nothing of her Amazon discipline. ‘You will not hear me plead Neron - neither you, nor your foul subjects.’
‘Bold words Princess, and no less than I would expect of you.’ The metal abominations clattered in the hands of the demons preparing them. ‘Rest assured there will be others who wish to pay you back in kind for all your efforts on behalf of wretched humanity. Who will, I believe favour more...technological approach to their attentions.’ Diana watched the instruments being readied at her feet, her eyes narrow and the movements of her pink crowned breasts regular. ‘But for our time together, I thought you would appreciate a more traditional approach to punishing Amazon hubris - more in line to what dear Heracles and his minions dealt out to your sister and mother. Though my toys will be far more sophisticated...and effective...than any blundering demigod’s.’
Diana’s jaw worked in silent fury at the vile words tossed at her. She couldn’t deny the fact that the instruments at her feet scared her, but she was not scared of the pain she was about to endure. Her only fear was that she would let down those who depended on her now – her friends, her Amazon sisters, Donna. She didn’t want this to happen but it was the measure of her heroism that she would NOT yield...she would NOT beg for mercy, nor buy her salvation with what her captors wanted to hear. As her sisters had endured it...as her mother had endured it...so would she, and honour their courage by matching it with her own.
The first creature stood up, the device in his hand a type of clamp with rounded plates not unlike the shaped of her own Amazon bracelets, each one affixed with a screw. Diana could see that the inside of the plate was studded with shallow but wicked looking spikes.
‘I’m a leg man, myself,’ the demon rumbled, ‘or was, when I was human.’ Diana looked at him in contempt, thinking that whatever humanity this beast had possessed had vanished long before his current transformation.
He stopped down until his massive penis nearly brushed the stone floor, and with his claw began to saw off her left boot, peeling it down ‘til it left her leg bare to the ankle. The black haired warrior felt a strange surge of relief, that they would not go straight for her breasts or…vagina…as she would have expected of them. Yet she knew that that relief was a foolish hope. Whatever they did would be bad, and she was sure the parts of her body that made her a woman would be hurt soon enough.
The creature began to set the clamp onto her leg while his partner reached over and used another device - this one shaped like two sets of metal plates about six inches long set with serrated jaws facing inwards. A leather strap let him tie it to her wrist while he reached to pry open her fingers.
Diana kept her hand tight, the monster struggling to wrench the digits apart but failing to move to overcome the strength of the heroine. ‘Fucking Amazon bitch,’ he swore, Diana smiling grimly at his frustration. After a minute of futile wrestling he glared at her and called to his companion. ‘Give me some fucking help here!’ he barked.
His friend laughed. ‘Need a hand for the little girl?’ he jibed, stepping up and adding his muscle to the mix.
‘I would not go out of my way to make my servants angry, my dear.’ Neron chuckled as he watched the contest. ‘You will find them even more inclined to make you miserable when they are irritated.’
Diana ignore the truth of Neron’s words, jaw tight as she fought the two creatures now wrestling with her - her one hand to their four. They sweated and swore, finally pulling the hand open and jamming the parallel clamps in place on the back of her long fingers. With the devices in place the demons wasted no time setting them to work, their mechanisms fiendishly straightforward. The beast who had attached her leg irons kneeled down and each monster began turning the screws, the action working to push the metal plates towards each other and putting pressure on the Amazon flesh and bone between.
Diana felt the compression on her leg first, the plate set over her shin driving quickly to the bone under the thin covering of skin. It was not unlike a kick to the lower leg during her sparring sessions with Donna, but that pain was sharp and swift. This began dull but quickly built to a sharp edge, but even worse it was sustained, constant.
As her long lower leg began to throb with discomfort, she felt her four fingers being pressed by the jaws on her hand. The metal on her upper fingers began to dig in first, the one on her lower finger between the first joint and knuckles following suit. It was painful, but not beyond endurance. Diana set her will, wetting her full lips with her tongue to battle the thirst of days without water, blinking a little as she felt the annoyance growing to true pain. The spikes digging into her leg were crushing in on the smooth flesh, the hell-forged metal testing the skin of her heroic form in a way no earthly material could have. Her calf muscle was tight, as if it were cramping.
‘Not so bad, yet, hmmm?’ the first demon operating her finger-crushing device asked. ‘Don’t worry, hero-whore. Plenty of toys still left for your enjoyment. Plenty,’ he finished giggling. He twisted again and the jaws bit into her finger hard, the lovely woman exhaling slowly as she felt her digits being crushed. Her arm was steady but the tendons in her wrist twitched as she tried to push back, little drops of blood starting to drip from the jaws. Besides the pain, she felt a twinge of fear, thinking about that if this would go on much longer, she might never be able to use that hand again.
Her red lip quivered as the beast below gave another long twist and there was a wet grinding wound as she felt the spikes of the boot penetrate her calf, the ones in front already setting a thin stream of red running down her leg and over her foot.
Seemingly satisfied for the moment, the demon standing left her hand and took up a set of material similar to barbed wire. Diana watched the new device with a sinking feeling, as quickly he began to wrap it around her opposite arm between the elbow and shoulder. Spikes on the wire cutting the skin with the merest touch, and he tied the wire in place and began to adjust a winch on one end, the razors tightening over her bicep.
Neron observed the ongoing procedure with his chin resting on one hand. ‘Your beauty is enhanced with each second, thanks to my menial’s attentions. You should be thankful to us, for perfecting your appearance, dear princess,’ the hell lord opined evilly.
The stoic heroine said nothing but drew her breaths slowly and deliberately, feeling the barbs begin to cut the skin of her arm so that she winced slightly. Even that small action setting off some cheers in viewing chambers across the island, eager eyes watching as new beads of sweat...cold sweat....were forming on her body. The pain was still endurable but inside she cringed with the deliberate mutilation, trying to keep her mind from wondering what other horrors awaited her
.
The screw on her leg took another twist and she closed her eyes and pressed her red lips tight, feeling the skin being ground off her shinbone as the metal grated against the white bone underneath. The demon chuckled as he looked up the length of the awesome body above him to the pinched features, then took up another device.
***
On Barbara’s screens and across the island the reactions were all different to the Amazon´s suffering but all had one thing in common...that all of them were means of celebrating the torture of Wonder Woman. Champagne bottles were opened. Toasts were exchanged. Sweat-meats were eaten with leisure, cocks were rubbed, unwilling pussies were masturbated roughly. Among the mercenaries there were even some female operatives happy to join in, several couples having hot pumping sex while watching her ordeal.
***
Demon number 2 had finished with the wire and now was using his leverage to twist Diana’s free hand over and fix it palm up to a stone plinth. A metal bowl was set above it, angled like a saucepan down towards the Amazons hand, and a small flame was set under the pan, the contents bubbling inside as they heated. Within a moment, a single drop of hissing green fluid had dripped from the spout onto Diana’s hand, burning the skin and setting red blisters growing across her palm. She gasped, trying to pull back and close her fist, but the bonds stopped her. Instead of pulling away, the action of her tensed bicep set the wire around her it digging on the flesh more sharply so that red rubies ran down over her skin to drip off her arm as the metal edges went tearing the skin and down towards the muscle.
Demon number 2 chuckled at the dilemma he had created for his victim. His red cock was bouncing up with renewed steeliness at the sight of her suffering. ‘By the way,’ he sneered, ‘once that wire tightens it won’t loosen again. So I’d be real careful how much flexing you do,’ he added, showing off his own impressive bicep in front of her.
***
Wonder Woman’s gasp of pain had provoked a numbers of "oh"s and "ah"s throughout the island and the extent of her stamina was again up for a fresh debate. Each device added another level of pain, not negating the torture of the earlier cruelties but overlapping them, multiplying them.
Meanwhile, the Amazon princess glared at the yellow eyes of her tormentor and cursed the fact that she could not gather enough moisture inside her dry mouth and throat to spit into his vile face. Barbara could see her breathing was no longer so steady and her breasts rose and fell more heavily, to the delight of the demon and the applause of many of the viewers.
'Damn, that bitch is hot!' Barbara caught a view of Weather Wizard laughing, while beside his Merlyn the Archer sipped his drink and kept his eyes glued to the action onscreen.
***
The first demon had wasted no time on his next choice, a smaller clamp to the first made of two flat plates set either side of the tall beauty’s right knee. ‘We have to balance you accessories,’ he smiled with a mouth full of fangs, tapping the left legs metal brace and sending a hammering load of pan through Diana’s lower limb. A warrior trained in the martial arts, the heroine knew all to well the vulnerability of the knee, with its cluttered nerves and floating cap of bone. It took only a few twists to bring sharp suffering to her leg.
Merciful Apollo, are they going to cripple me? she thought, as her face remained calm and unafraid despite the hellish pain. As she tried to move another burning drop landed on her palm and the pain roared up her arm, her eyes watering as she kept her hand steady lest she tear her bicep even more. Her other hand pounded as if between two hammer, the fingers wet with blood.
Twist! The knee bones moved with a life of their own and she inhaled sharply, the cameras on her breasts capturing the action for the sadistic crowd. The demon turned the screw again and Diana’s eyes fluttered. She now had to clench her jaw in order not to scream, the white of her perfect teeth visible through her open, red lips. A small strangled sound of pain whispered from her.
Drip...hisss...the pain from her burned hand was now constant, like it was being held in a fire. The beast next to her ran his talon along her other arms, tickling her foully. Then demon number 2 picked up a two-foot-long skewer and waved it in front of Diana’s blue eyes for a second, while he stepped up on front going between her spread out arm and leg. Standing in front of her he slowly set the sharp, but sadly not all that sharp, skewer against the inside of her bicep She watched him with eyes glimmering with disgust. The turning of the crank on her knee bringing a gasp of suffering as they held each other eyes.
The semi-sharp point indented her muscle further and further, as more and more pressure was applied to the skewer. The beast watched her teeth grinding slowly together as he stood waiting patiently for the next turn. Then, with a sickening plunging sensation, the skewer’s top embedded itself inside her firm-muscled flesh as simultaneously, the knee screw crushed inwards and the burning fluid scorched her palm, making her jerk and the wire cutting deeper in the bulging muscle!
'NNNNAAAAAARRRRRRGGHHHH!' she gasped, eyes almost closed, dragging in air deep and fast as her chest danced softly, nipples hard. Smiling evilly, the demon pushed the skewer deeper into her muscle, twisting it back and forth as it travelled further inside...sometimes retracting it just a little before pushing it still deeper.
‘GGGHHHHHHHH…AAAHHH….!’
Finally, the point of the metal emerged at the other side of her upper-arm, it’s bloodied tip shining in the light of the torches.
'NNNNNNNNNN...nnnnn..nnnnn...uhhhhh…'
***
Diana’s panting moans setting off a storm of similar but far happier ones among the villains watching. ‘Fuck me,’ Deadshot gasped from one of Oracles monitors, as he lay atop an Amazon prisoner, watching everything as he used the bound woman’s nubile body.
***
Two chains came down from a winch on the ceiling and the demon fastened both to the handle and the bloody point of the skewer. Then the chains were pulled tight....and tighter still. Diana felt her body straining, the skin on her leg tearing more, felt her skewered bicep muscle being pulled upward by the chains....tearing at the very fabric of her tissue, slowly pulling her flesh away from the bone. Blood dripped from her wounded arm. She let her head fall, chin set on her chest as she set her jaw and sucked back her cries of anguish.
‘So brave, Diana,’ Neron commented. ‘Your mother would be proud of you. I only wish, as I’m sure you do, she could be here to see this.’
Wonder Woman refused to answer as her mind and body attacked by unrelenting agony, her legs and arms sending waves and waves of hellish pain into her nervous system. The monster on her legs now stood up and picked up another poker like this companions, but this one glowing from the heat of the coals it had been resting in. Diana could feel the unwelcome warmth on the inner thighs and could not help her breathing to come out like a low, subdued sobbing.
The creature stretched out its taloned hand and let the tip of the hot iron touch the skin, the heat searing the flesh red in an instant and making the gleaming black tressed beauty twist hard. Below her waist her legs were throbbing and aching constantly, long stems of sweating pain, he burning pain caused her to flex her muscles and flinch while her fingers crushed by the metal glove. She hissed at the pain caused by the poker while her hair clung to her head as she blinked sweat from her eyes. ‘Steady, whore!’ the demon gloated. ‘You must remain steady, or you’ll hurt yourself!’
***
'Yeah, the cunt is suffering now!' crowed Mirror Master, as he angled his hand lens to make his own copy of the spectacle as he rubbed his tight crotch. ‘Make the stuck up whore beg for mercy!’
***
Diana pursed her lips, the pain combined with the terrible knowledge that there would only be more pain. The poker kissed her leg again, from behind, drawing a line of burned skin around her tightly muscular limb so that she trembled in her shackles. ‘Damn you,’ she whispered hoarsely. The demon only picked up another item for his enjoyment as it watched her body shuddering, every movement meaning more pain and more humiliation. When it held the object up Diana forced herself to look at it fearlessly; a whip, consisting of a strong, wooden handle from which there hung three lengths of fine chain three feet in length. Another three were strands of leather with numerous metal balls set into them, while the last three were equipped with double-pointed, sharp thorns. The reason for the beasts seeming inattention to her body became horribly clear.
‘We want to warm you up evenly for the main course,’ demon laughed.
***
‘Yeah!’ breathed Sonar, eyes wide with anticipation. ‘Let me hear the screams, the sweet, sweet screams.’ The thick-spectacled Professor Ivo stood standing with his nose pressed to huge viewing screen in a private room while the naked bronze-skinned Amazon sitting in his torture chair groaned though her gag.
***
The demon with the flagella drew back his hand, building up strength...then the horrible cat-o’nine-tails clashed against Diana’s back.
'NNN' came the short outburst, her arms tensing instinctively and more blood running free. All the air was driven out of her lungs by the force of the blow. She gasped for breath, stoically struggling not to scream in pain. The demon lashed out against her back again, the tails of chain and leather and balls battering against her ribs and spine, bruising her skin and setting the nerve-endings of her back into an inferno of pain as the thorns tore her flesh open at the same time. She felt her back raked open and shuddered, her mouth open but no sound coming emerging. Her burned hand bleed freely and the molten fluid ate away the skin to the sinew underneath.
The monster with the poker seemed happy to watch and fondle himself, while his partner began to whip her back in earnest. The hellishly designed whip was slowly shredding the skin of her back and putting her through pain no mortal outside hell could imagine. His hard cock bounced with a fresh surge of pleasure each time the whip crashed against Diana’s broad back. She drew breath after sobbing breath, her head down and nostrils flaring. Tears wet her face but not once did she open her mouth to ask for mercy. She could feel the blood running down her ass and the backs of her long legs and her were hands trembling in pain.
Then fresh agony exploded in a so far undamaged part of her body, as the whip began hitting her ass-cheeks. ‘HRRRRRRRRRRR!!!’she growled, anger mixing with pain.
Her head was cast back, legs straining even as muscles and bones crushed and twisted between the harsh metal vices.
***
‘HIT THE BITCH AGAIN,’ came a chorus of shouts around screens on Oracles panel. ‘MAKE THAT ASS BLEED,’ came another cheer. "WHIP HER TITS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. COME ON!" yelled a female voice, the Queen from the Royal Flush Gang fondling her own breasts and staring with envy and loathing at the Amazon princess’ impossibly large and firm chest..
‘Oh Diana,’ Barbara wept softly.
***
The monster pulled back and delivered another blow with the whip, this time just to the right mound. The orb jerking as the skin tore and blood flicked across the whip and demon holding it. The creatures seemed transfixed for the moment with their victims powerful backside, and Neron showed no desire to hurry the matter. The demon used the flail on the left side and more cuts sprang up. Up and down he worked the whip, across her broad shoulders and arching spine.
He then stopped the beating for a second in order to let his comrade torturer have a go at the poor Amazon´s bloodied back. ‘We better cauterize this,’ he said, running the tip of his white-hot poker over several of her bloody stripes and open whip marks. ‘Wouldn’t want these to get infected the first beast chuckled. There was hissing and Diana let her head come up as she moaned loudly. Her quivering movements as her body was burned an inch at a time set of fresh pain in the bones of her legs, the muscles of her powerful arms.
Even Neron seemed moved by her heroic struggle. The demon-monarch sat drinking in the dark pleasures of evil all over Themyscria working furiously on their cocks as an innocent and noble woman was tortured before them.
Part VII
Birds of Prey
Black Canary
As Dinah stood staring at Deathstroke, a door in the darkness surrounding them opened and another man entered - tall and lean and clad in what looked like a surgeons gown, complete with mask. In stark contrast to this professional image, above the green cloth covering his nose and mouth were perched a pair of flamboyant star shaped spectacles with mirrored lenses.
‘Perhaps you know the Crime Doctor,’ Deathstroke said. ‘I feel competent to handle this myself, but I’m enough of a professional to recognize the abilities of an expert.’
The newcomer smiled behind his mask and gave a little bow. ‘And of course, the very large sum of money Slade offered for this service was enough to entice me to even give Power Girl a short break while I tend to things here.’
Dinah snorted. ‘You expect me to believe Power Girl is suffering because of a little creep like you - from what, belly-laughs?’
‘You can believe whatever you like, Ms Lance,’ the man in glasses said. ‘It will make no difference to you immediate reality, I assure you. In fact, this will be a welcome break - torturing near invulnerable Kryptonians, while extremely rewarding, does require quite a bit of effort and mental preparation - by contrast, I expect your session to be something of a play session.’
‘You go play with yourself, creep!’ Dinah spat. ‘Since that is what I take you for doing in your spare time, don´t you?’
The doctor smiled again and turned to Slade. ‘I see you decked her out in fishnets. Nice touch.’
Slade shrugged. ‘What can I say, I have an eye for classic beauty.’ And with a look at Dina he added, ‘but no special concern for its preservation!’
The blonde crime fighter swallowed. ‘So, are you actually going to do something, or am I supposed to be bored to death? Because if thats your plan, let me tell you...it’s working like a charm!’
The doctor smiled again at Deathstoke. ‘The lady has a point.’
He turned to Dinah and motioned Slade to adjust some cables on either side of the pillory the Canary was bound to, moving to make them run under and over Dinah’s impressive chest flesh. ‘I wanted Slade to be part of this - the point is to provide maximum psychological damage to Green Arrow, and I feel he needs to see how he is responsible for what it going to happen.’
As he spoke Dinah notice Deathstoke coming over with a pair of metal bars, each about a foot and half long. Black Canary felt a pang at the mentioning of her lover...as bad as this is going to be, she could not begin to imagine how Ollie would feel when he found out that she was to being made to suffer was his actions.
She swallowed as Slade pushed the metal through the bands running across and under her tits, and then with more than human strength he began to twist slowly, the cables contorting around each other with the rods and instantly becoming tighter as they were pulled together by the torsion.
‘Interesting side note Ms Lance - did you know that the word torture actually comes from the Latin word meaning ‘to twist’? I expect you will be gaining a much better appreciation of the etymology quite soon.’
Even as he spoke, Dinah felt the bands squeezing down on her ample chest, pushing in on the soft curves and making them bulge unnaturally as the pressure mounted. She could hardly look down because of the yoke holding her upright, but the very tips of her breasts were barely visible for her...and she could watch them with growing anxiety transforming from natural breast-points to bloated surfaces of strained, purpled skin and flesh. Just breathing was now becoming painful as the flesh was pinched and stretched, digging in along her rib cage. But she kept her red lips tight closed.
Slade kept twisting, showing no visible effort as he made the lines push deeper into the resisting firmness, the heroine’s nipples starting to throb as they were pushed out and out. Dinah wondered how long he would continue this and if her breasts would eventually be torn off her chest by the pressure. And mostly she wondered, how much the pain could actually increase as it has been with every relentless twist of the ropes. It was already pretty bad, a continuous pulsing torment that was bubbling up towards anguish. Yet still she managed to keep any sound of pain inside her.
Finally when if felt like the pressure would start to force the lines to cut into her flesh, Slade stopped. Her breasts were tingling and what she could see of them was a light blushing purple. Her nipples ached on her chest and felt like they were twice their normal size.
The Crime Doctor turned away and came back with a riding crop, holding it up to where Black Canary assumed there was a camera on the wall. ‘We’re going to start playing with the Canary now, Green Arrow. Watch closely - after all, this is all your doing!’
Dinah lifted her own face towards the unseen lens, eyes flashing.’ Don’t you listen to them Ollie! No matter what these sick fucks do this is not you fault – do you hear me?!’ She was about to say more when the crop came down over one of her bulging tit globes.
SWACK!
Canary hissed in pain, feeling a flaring line of pure agony burning across both her breasts, where the crop hat sliced into them...but she kept her jaw clenched. She would NOT scream!
The doctor moved and then struck again, aiming for the fullness of the breast between the cords and the pointed nipple, the leather cracking loudly against skin tight as a drum. The pain reverberated through Dinah’s chest, squeezing past the cords pressure and then bursting into her like a ruptured pipeline. Her fingers flexed fruitlessly above the yoke while her face twisted in agony. Her breathing came in soft murmurs as her nervous system seemed to concentrate on the aching cones over her ribs.
SWACK! SWAP!!
Deathstoke was picking up a weapon of his own - a cat on nine tails whip. Dinah watched through slitted eyes sparkling with welling tears. ‘This may be unpleasant,’ the doctor said, ‘but rest assured...it’s only the slightest of starts.’ Swiftly he deployed another volley at Dinah’s tits, making the crop dance on her pain-throbbing breast-mounds. As she bowed her head and closed her eyes tight Slade reached out and grasped one of the nipples with his fingers. The brave crimefighter bit her lip as he pressed down on the trapped bud, crushing it hard.
Dinah felt the revulsion of this creep touching her on one of her most private areas wash away the worst of the pain for a second. ‘Sick creeps!’ she whispered and spat into Slade’s face. He ignored the spittle, moving around behind her. ‘She’s got a nice ass too, Arrow,’ he commented. ‘Let’s see how firm it is compared to those tits.’
He stuck the left cheek a terrific back hand blow, tearing the cords across the round smooth skin of one half of her backside so the whole clenched hard. Then superhuman accuracy, he aimed a powerful blow forehand blow at her same cheek, the stinging heat tearing through the meaty hemisphere as it landed on the same glowing welts, pain like a bullet and making Dinah jerk forward in anguish.
‘GGG,’ she grunted, the heat form the blow covering her whole lower body as the Crime Doctor aimed another strike at the underside of her tits. The brutal constriction made his attack seem every bit as powerful as Deathstroke’s so that she twisted in suffering. Clenching her teeth she endured the punishment on her body from the front and behind, taking the blows on her ass in stride with the caning of her tits...wondering how this could possibly be the START?!
In the infrequent gaps between the stokes the Canary had to suck in breath, each time making her gasp a little and lose air. Her lithe body crying out to suck in more but she knew if she obeyed she would not find the will to stop from screaming. Her ass now felt as if it were sitting over a fire and her breasts were pounding as if jackhammer were drilling into them. Sweat beaded above her blue eyes and she could not brush it away as it ran down over her face.
SWACK WHAP
‘MMMMM!’
CRACK THWAK
‘NNNNNRRRRRRRR!!!’
The Doctor stopped the caning and watched her sweat-covered face, twisting and flinching with each blow of the whip on her lush derrière. ‘You know, sometimes it takes a fine instrument to achieve the desired result,’ he said, putting the crop aside. The blonde barely seemed to notice him as she panted under the continuous ass-whipping. ‘And sometimes it takes a blunt instrument.’ he said, picking up another item and showing it to the suffering heroine with a vicious smirk.
Dinah looked at him through narrowed eyes that screwed tight as the cat slashed her but-cheeks again, fanning the flames in her flesh. The doctor pulled back his arm, took aim and let the ping-pong-paddle crack against her left breast.
‘GGG...AAAAAAAAHHHH….DAMN!’
The broad surface slammed into her whole tortured mammary, and it was no ordinary paddle, of course. Crafted of heavy teak-wood, for better impact the paddle itself was covered with pyramid-shaped iron studs than dug into the sensitive teat as the stroke crushed her chest pillow into a flattened globe before it sprang back into its usual fullness.
‘OOHHHHHHH,’ she moaned, feeling the metal points driving into her flesh like a hundred evil nails. He was pummelling her soft bloated teat mercilessly. Deathstoke responded by aiming the next cat stroke across the small of her back, making her arch forward and thrust forth her red marked tits as she cried out. The Doctor made a business out of hitting her left breast only, letting blow after blow land on the bloated mammary, crushing with each blow something that in fact should not be able to take any more crushing at it was.
‘UNNN...OH GOD!!...ARRRRR!!’
Subconsciously Dinah found herself wishing he would aim at the other tit, give her even a seconds reprieve.
Exactly as the torture expert knew she would.
‘I will consider beating your right breast, if you ask for it nicely, bitch!’ the Doctor said matter-of-factly between blows. ‘Otherwise, I’ll just pummel your left tit into a sack of pulped fat.’
Dinah bit down on her lip so hard it bled, but her silence only earned her another pounding blow to her breast so that she shrieked aloud. The Doctor was a good as his word, moving the paddle slightly with each attack to make the pain coat the whole orb but never missing its make mark. He hit her left breast again, and again, and again...and each time, Dinah wondered if this was the blow that would destroy her breast for the rest of her life....or the one she took after that...or the one after that.
‘That’s it Dinah,’ Deathstroke’s cultured voice purred in her ear. ‘Show Ollie how strong you are – I’m sure he’ll love to play with that fun-bag when it’s been made into dog food.’ Dinah knew at once that Wilson was manipulating her, making her think about how Oliver would blame himself if she were mutilated, permanently disfigured.
But even more terrible was what she knew she had to do about it.
‘Alright!’ she yelped. ‘Hit the other one, then!
The gowned sadist ignored her request, punishing her left breast with renewed vigour. ‘Say please, bitch,’ The Doctor chuckled.
WHAAACK!!!
‘YAAAAAAAAAAAAA! FUCK! PLEASE THEN...PLEASE HIT THE OTHER ONE!’
‘See...wasn’t that hard now, was it?’ the Doctor smirked. Then he turned his arm and gave her right breast a devastating blow with the paddle.
‘Unnnnnn,’ Dinah grunted, the pain a relief compared to the horror burning inside her left tit. The Doctor hit her right tit cross ways, making it dance against its pummelled partner, the two aching meat mounds jiggling in agony.
‘This looks sore,’ Slade said, stopping the whipping of her ass and coming up behind to reach around and cup the bruised left tit. ‘I’d better rub it for you.’
Dinah cursed wordlessly as his hand squeezed her breast, as if he had any right. The pain was terrible, and the doctor hit her right boob again and it HURT! Slade tried to dig his fingers into her tit-meat, his augmented strength it making what would have been virtually impossible due to the incredible tightness of the flesh an exercise in utter agony as he compressed the flesh to the point of bursting, never endings mashed together inside the woman sensual globes. He began rolling her left breast on top her chest in order to inflict the maximum possible pain. She suffered it all as the paddle worked her right teat diligently, the torment quickly building towards that inflaming its twin.
‘You sick piece of SHIT, Slade!’ Dinah moaned, tears spilling down her cheeks as her breast sent her signals of nothing but pain, constant pain. It was excruciating, horrible and inescapable.
‘I think that’s enough for now,’ the Doctor said, again mopping his own forehead with a cloth. ‘My goodness, I need to get out on the golf course more often - practice my swing. I think you had better handle the next stage, Mr Wilson - you have a better eye anyway - no pun intended.’
‘Sorry...to...be of any...inconvenience, you...SICK FUCK!!’ Dinah roared the last words of her sentence as Slade twisted her left tit around like a rubber twist toy. Her head drooped down as the mercenary stepped around the pillory and studied the two boobs - both battered and bruised, shining with sweat like orbs of bronze. She heard him pick something up, and from under her tear-stained lashes Dinah saw a long metal skewer, at least twos feet long, resting on her collarbone.
‘First we tenderize the meat, Canary,’ he said, ‘then it’s time to put it on the spit.’
‘Bar…becue?’ she managed to whisper with a residue of venom in her voice.
‘More like kebabs,’ Wilson said, moving the skewer to side of her agony filled left tit and starting to apply pressure. The Crime Doctor was well prepared, the skewer sharp enough to pierce the bloated skin but dull enough to hurt badly as it went in.
‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!’
Dinah screamed...even the slightest touch on her breast caused her intense suffering, and the needle probing against her skin was sheer agony. The breaking of the welted surface was raw, blinding pain, the point pushing its way inside her flesh a demon claw dragging her down into hell.
‘GGAAAAAAA…HUNH…oh fuck stop it bastards aaaaAAAAAIIIEEEEEEE!’
Wilson took his sweet time pushing the needle through, making the bound beauty scream non stop as it twisted though her female orb. He listened to her howling reach a crescendo as finally the point came popping out the other side of the breast. He went on pushing in a little more, then retracting it, then pushing even further, twisting as he did. Playing with her pain. Aware of the cameras on him he kept moving it inside her like, stabbing deep and shallow, damaging her as much as he could without permanent injury that might shorten her endurance, as she screamed with her eyes closed tight.
For over a minute hemoved the full length of the needle back and forth inside her tit, making her scream with fresh surges of anguish. Dinah was lost in pain and nausea caused by the agony and the cruel feel of the needle moving back and forth inside of one of the most tender parts of her body.
Finally the Crime Doctor game him a nod and Deathstoke knew he could no more on the left tit - grasping it firmly her pushed again, making the skewer tear out through the inside curve as his victim’s shrill voice rattled off the walls.
No sooner was the bloodied point visible than he pushed it hard into her right breast, the end disappearing almost instantly as it gouged deep into the mammal meat, releasing more of the pain stored up inside the fatty tissue. Dinah cried out in anguish as she had to endure the same torture again...and worse. For as the needle slowly, ever so slowly penetrated her right breast, destroying the fat, nerve-endings and glances millimetre by millimetre on its passage, the pain was compounded by the continuing jabbing of the needle through her left tit. She could actually feel the fat clinging to the metal surface as it ripped its way slowly through her.
‘Hurts, doesn’t it?’ Wilson asked, his good eye hard and cold. ‘Ever wondered what its like when one of those arrows from your lover goes into you, Ms Lance?’ He pushed again and Dinah gurgled in horror. ‘Something like that!’ he sneered.
Dinah didn’t permit herself another scream. She gathered all of her remaining strength against the fireworks of pain exploding in her breasts and stammered with venom dripping from her shaky voice.
‘When… I get free, I’ll....put....this skewer...through YOUR...balls, Slade!’
Wilson nodded in appreciation of her courage, then allowed the Crime Doctor to inspect his work. ‘First class,’ the medico said, examining the piercing with no regard for the woman shivering in pain before him. ‘You could have a future in this business, Slade.’
‘No thanks,’ Wilson replied. ‘This is a one time partnership.’
The Doctor shrugged, then brought up a hypo and jabbed it into Dinah’s arm. She felt pressure and then a flood of new awareness, like she had been pumped full of caffeine.
‘Wouldn’t want you passing out,’ the Doctor said. ‘An amateur would have injected her in the tit, you see,’ he said aside to Deathstoke, ‘but that takes longer to process, and time is money.’
‘Commendable,’ Wilson remarked dryly.
‘A fortunate side-effect, of course, is that the injection revives the subject to the peak of it’s efficiency and also makes her experience her current state of pain with crystal-clear freshness. Isn’t it so, Miss Lance?’ the torturer added. As he spoke, Dinah shook like a doll on the strings of a fitful child with waves of terrible pain rushing through her system.
‘Gnngngngngngngngng,’ she gagged, shaking in her bonds like she was having a fit, struggling to make her tongue form meaningful words. ‘I...am gu-going to FUCKING K-K-KILL THE B-BOTH OF YOU!’ she screamed while still trembling in agony.
‘I am led to understand that your body is almost pure muscle Dinah,’ the surgeon-sadist commented. ‘I may call you Dinah, I hope?’ He glanced down behind his star-shaped glasses. ‘Except for these.’ He caressed her pierced tits gently, but Dinah yelped in pain at the merest touch. ‘But they’re so firm,’ he carried on, ignoring her suffering. ‘I bet they can carry a lot of weight to stay firm like that.’ He smiled under the mask. ‘Let’s see how much.’
Slade held her body forward as the nameless torture-expert brought out a pair of metal alligator teeth style clips. He attached the clamps to the ends of the skewer through Dinah’s bleeding fem-jugs, working a screw on each one to make it bite hard on the metal. The vibration made Dinah grit her teeth as she looked away, refusing to see what sickness they were up to now.
‘Boys...and their toys!’ she whispered; the words were barely audible, her lips trembling and her sweat-covered body trembling with pain and fatigue. The Doctor kept on working; he fixed a set of hooks onto the skewer, each attached to a length of chain. Slade, meanwhile, was grasping her hands and putting her wrists into manacles, her fatigue-sapped human strength no match for his augmented abilities, though she struggled as much as she was able. As soon as he was finished he moved to the side and pulled out one of the metal rods holding the cords tight on her tits. the tension disappearing immediately as the cords unravelled.
‘NNNNAAAAAAAAAAA,’ Dinah cried out as her tits were freed at last. The blood came coursing back in and her breasts pounded with newfound freedom, a torture in itself.
‘Ready?’ the Doctor asked as Dinah was still shivering with the return of circulation to her boobs. Slade nodded and hit a mechanism.
There was a mechanical clattering, and the stocks around the blonde prisoner’s neck fell away, freeing her arms as well. Simultaneously, a winch overhear hauled her wrists up so her upper limbs were stretched over her head, the chains on her tit skewer rising up with them.
Dinah gave a short piercing cry as the tension of the chain dragged up her bruised teat meat, hauling her up by her battered boobs. Her gorgeous body arched instinctively as she rose up on her booted toes, trying to ease the terrible pressure on her soft breasts. Her fingers clawed at the chains on her manacles, desperately seeking leverage to escape the pulling, tearing pain in her breasts.
The two villains let her dance on her toes for a long moment, getting her bearings. Slade watched the spectacle with arms crossed over his chest, smiling and satisfied with the view. With the yoke finally off Dinah could see her pummelled breasts; in fact she was forced to look at them as they were hauled up towards her by the terrible pressure them.
‘Do you ever lick you own tits to turn Green Arrow on, Canary?’ the Doctor inquired. ‘I’ll bet you do. You could do it now, if you like, while he’s watching; I’m sure we could pull them up high enough.’
Dinah was so sickened by pain and the evil of the man she could not even respond, just hang and close her eyes, wishing death on him.
‘What, no smart reply? It seems we finally came to an understanding, then?’ The evil little doctor said, making the chains on the skewer pull just a little bit tighter and making the heroic woman cry out in fresh pain and misery. She felt the pressure of the riding crop again on her right tit, sobbing in secret gratitude that it wasn’t the left.
‘You need to hold very still now, Ms Lance,’ Slade was saying. ‘If you don’t the pain might make you tear yourself right off that skewer - poor Green Arrow would watch you tits explode like a ripe melon.’ He spoke of the mutilation of her compact body as if her ordering meat from the supermarket butcher. ‘Do you think you can do that?’ he asked. When she did not respond, he moved the crop of her left nipple.
Dinah winced, comprehending his meaning and glaring daggers at him with her wet sapphire eyes.
‘Can you hold still,’ he asked. Dinah breathed deep and gave a short , tight nod as she bored holes in him with her gaze and her lip quivered.
To be continued…
Part viii
Birds of prey
huntress
Helena peered down at her belly involuntarily, feeling the sharp, blinding, stabbing pain inside her. It was the same pain that now tore at her sternum, her shoulders, and both her pert and shapely breasts. Wracked with suffering she raised her hollowed eyes to look at what was happening in the torture chamber.
Cassandra arched her back, involuntarily impaling herself further as Huntress watched and fully shared her suffering through the neural link.
‘AH HUH…AH HUH!!!’
Both their breathing was loud, fast and ragged. The man in the room moved the stomach needle. He moved it inside her, tunnelling through her belly, ripping his way though her insides as Helena could not hold back a loud groan of misery. She hung like a piece of meat in front of the scribbling Dr Moon with her clenched teeth shining whitely between her drawn back lips...eyes firmly closed...breathing in short pants. She had felt every one of the metal points piercing her flesh as the blonde Amazon had been tortured, the disgust and awful pain as they mauled and mutilated her perfect body, trying to make her talk.
She had seen one of the men pick up another skewer...and him placing it against the librarians left breast and feeling the pressure in her own teat. The blondes face had twisted in anguish as she looked at it in revulsion, but she hadn’t offered one plea for mercy as he had pushed its tip against the underside of the left half of her tit...slowly denting the resilient flesh inwards...slowly increasing the pressure....until, finally the taut skin burst.
Helena had screamed then as the spike sank in about half an inch...and the man began to slowly push the skewer in deeper...twisting it around at the process just like he was doing with the metal in Cassandra’s gut now. The black haired heroine had felt the skewer destroy her female flesh, nerve-endings and glances millimetre by millimetre...as the sharp, big needle was slowly, yet relentlessly pushed deeper and deeper until finally, the sharp point was poking against the upper side of her breast...and lastly breaking up the skin and pushing outwards. Stabbing, white-flashing pain, she could hardly endure.
‘This may be a good time to talk, wouldn’t you think?’ the said , grinning viciously into the tall blonde woman’s sweat-soaked face. Helena could smell his rank breath, feel the shame of having him hover like a carrion bird over her naked, bleeding flesh.
‘What do you think, Huntress?’ Moon asked in the adjoining room. ‘Should she not end her ordeal now, rather than surrender later and make you both suffer needless agony.’ He was fascinated by this woman’s stubborn refusal to succumb to pain. He knew that females naturally possessed a higher threshold for physical discomfort than males, but now he was actually beginning to suspect this might impede on their intelligence.
‘You know… she won’t…’ Helena moaned. In her semi-hanging position, her breasts were tugged by gravity, and even that gentle pressure was enough to make the pain of the piercings and the burns almost unbearable. She wet her dry lips with her tongue, feeling dehydrated. ‘Even if she has…has what you want…never talk…’
‘You may be right, but I doubt it,’ Moon said. ‘The myth of being able to endure infinite torture without breaking is simply that…a myth. Given enough time the only thing that prevents a subject from being broken is death, and I assure you that will not happen here.’
‘Of course,’ Moon went on, ‘just because the Amazon does not wish to save herself does not mean you have to share any more of her pain. You have only to answer some simple questions and your part of this business can end immediately.’
Helena again raised her sunken eyes to the window. She could feel Cassandra’s almost manic desire for the pain to stop. Helena didn’t know how much agony the blonde was willing to endure but she found herself almost wishing she would break, just so she herself could have some respite.
‘What…what questions…,’ she panted. She told herself that the inquiry was just to get more intelligence on what these depraved lunatics were up to.
Moon smiled slightly, feeling the chink in his targets armour. ‘Tell me why you and the Black Canary have such an intimate relationship with Barbara Gordon.’
Helena kept her face deadpan behind her sweeping black mask, and then managed to force herself to laugh weakly in her bonds. ‘You want info on Jim Gordon’s little girl…just Google her, moron!’
Moon wasn’t surprised. He didn’t expect this one to break yet, but he had found a crack. It was only a matter of time. Outwardly he simply sighed and ran his fingers through his slick black hair. ‘Very will, Ms Huntress, we will try another avenue.’ He reached into a pocket and held up and object for Helena to look at. ‘You recognize this of course.’
Huntress looked at the gold cross in Moon’s hand; normally it would be hanging around her neck as part of her costume. ‘That’s mine,’ she said, her voice adopting a steely tone.
‘Yes, it is. It says much about you – for example, do you think you are a good person, Huntress? Do you think you will go to heaven?’ Helena did not answer, just hung breathing deep laboured breathes, swallowing softly. Moon seemed pleased. ‘Are you afraid you are going to go to hell, pretty little superhero? Do you think about it more after you have beaten men senseless, or when you have slept with other women’s partners?’
Huntress lurched against her bonds, her naked body trembling with cold anger. Her eyes blazed as she stared down at Moon. ‘Fuck you!’ she snarled, twisting her hands to try and get free.
‘No,’ Moon replied. ‘Your harlots body has no interest in me carnally. And I will answer your question, Huntress.’ He smiled wide and stepped forward, looking up at the nude and spread-eagled beauty. ‘You are going to hell – and I am you travel agent.’ He nodded to the window, and unwillingly Helena turned to look.
Another woman in chains was being manhandled into the torture chamber. Like Cassandra, she was nude save for a few almost useless scraps of material clinging to her tapered body, but instead of golden blonde hair the mane spilling about her shoulders and down her broad back was of deep chestnut brown. As she was hauled in by four struggling mercenaries. At the sight of her, Cassandra gave a heart-rending cry.
‘Mnemosyn!’
Anguish clouded Helena’s face as the neural link communicated the depth of feeling behind that single word. Moon leered at her. ‘I believe these two Amazons have a…relationship. I think we will see how strong it is.’
Cassandra watched in horror as Mnemosyn was dragged into the room between the two men, her tattered rags barley concealing the curves of her lovely body. With the bruises and her face grimed, she had obviously put up a brave but futile resistance, as befitted one who had once competed in the Wonder Woman tournament.
Helena, too, could only watch, but she was also bombarded by the feeling through the link of Cassandra’s mounting fear, knowing what these men were capable of. They hauled Syn (Helena heard the pet name clearly in her mind) over to a table near the other wall of the room. While three of the men grunted and held her steady the fourth roughly tore the last of her clothes off, then all four heaving the shackled and struggling Amazon up and slamming her down on the metal surface naked so that Cass could see her beloved fully.
Beloved! The word hummed in Helena’s mind, and her stomach churned with sick anger. They were going to torture these woman in front of each, defile their feelings of love and tenderness by making them watch each other suffer. ‘You sick son of a bitch!’ she spat at Moon, as she pulled and wrenched useless at the bands spreading her arms and legs.
‘Cassandra,’ Syn yelled, her face full of concern and anger. She saw the burns on her skin, the skewers imbedded in the soft vibrant flesh of her lover. ‘You bastards - what have you done to her??!!’
Again, Huntress desperately hoped that she could send some of her strength into Cassandra, yet the link only functioned one way. She could feel Cassandra's flood of shame at another Amazon seeing her so defiled, but so much worse as it was her partner. Cassandra would have died rather than be seen so helpless, so vulnerable and abused. For the first time Helena truly understood the horror Dinah must have experienced when Green Arrow had had to rescue her from her own torturers.
‘Now bitch,’ the leader said to Cassandra, ‘maybe you'll want to talk more freely if we entertain your special friend here for a while.’
Syn squirmed in the men’s grip. It took all of them to keep her down on the metal slab. ‘Tell them nothing!’ she yelled defiantly, even as they dragged her arms around above her and cuffed them to metal bands near her head.
‘Let your friend make up her own mind, slut!’ the leader said to Syn, as she was cuffed down on the table. ‘You just be quiet, unless you feel the need to scream in pain!’ Syn spat at him in fury, kicking out even as they grabbed her long legs and hauled them down to other shackles near the bottom edge of the table. The distance wasn’t long enough for the Amazon legs to stretch out, so she was forced to bend them at the knees, her thighs spread. Two of the invaders pulled out leather straps attached to metal cords at the side of the table and whipped them around the brown haired beauties knees, cinching them tight and taking up the slack on the cords so that Syn was made to lie with her legs apart and her trimmed pubis exposed and open.
Helena watched appalled the scene unfolded. At the same time she felt Cassandra´s dread rising inside the pit of her stomach, as she watched her lover being immobilized. ‘Enough,’ she whispered; ‘neither of them will tell you anything.’ She glared at Moon. ‘This cruelty serves no purpose.’
‘I think the men in the room would disagree,’ Moon commented casually.
Fixed to the table, the men came to stand around the enraged Syn. ‘This one is feisty,’ one said, even for these bitches. ‘I think she’s upset we’ve been playing with her girlfriend without her.’
‘Is that right slut,’ asked another, ‘do you want some attention too?’
Syn glared at them furiously but remained silent.
‘Well, maybe you’d just like to watch while we go back to your cunt-licking lover over there,’ he snarled.
Syn twisted and hissed, ‘Leave her alone!’
The man reached out and stroked her long brown hair, as she tired to pull away. He grabbed her tresses and yanked her head back to stare up at him. ‘Sure bitch – we’ll let your friend rest while we play with you - okay?’
The Amazon was quiet for a moment and then leaned towards him. ‘Do your worst!’ Syn sneered. Helena felt Cassadra's shame and fear, knowing Syn was only goading them to hurt her to spare her Amazon sister further torture.
‘I ‘d be careful with that demand, slut!’ the man yanking at her hair said. ‘You can´t possibly imagine what our "worst" can be!’
‘Save your threats for the weak women of your own world,’ Syn said, diligently keeping her eyes from travelling to where Cassandra lay helpless. Helena experienced a surge or admiration in the Amazon’s courage, even as she dreaded what would follow.
The leader who had been conducting Cassandra’s torture nodded approvingly. ‘Let’s start simple,’ he murmured. The man holding Mnemosyn’s hair snapped his fingers, and one of his friends reached to the operating table nearby and picked up a pair of metal pliers, the long jays lined with serrated teeth. The leader looked over at Cassandra as the others leered at the spread-eagled Syn’s quivering breasts. ‘You feel free to jump in with the info about those computer codes anytime you’re ready,’ he smiled.
Syn swallowed, eyes glued to the pliers, yet her voice was steady as she spoke loudly enough for Cassandra to hear. ‘Don’t.’
The men giggled and the one with the pliers inspected the brunettes long naked body, finally letting his eyes rest on her smooth belly. ‘Your friend seemed to enjoy this part being teased – let’s see how you like it,’ he chuckled.
Reaching down and he used the pliers and began pinching her smooth toned abdomen, pulling up a fold of flesh. His hand was straining as he worked hard against Syn’s muscular warrior physique. Syn hissed and clenched her teeth as she felt her flesh distorted and crushed by the pliers...but no other sound escaped her.
The man twisted the jaws and a drop of red blood formed around the crushing metal points. When he let go the flesh was bruised and bloodied, but he immediately grabbed a fresh fold next of bronze skin next to her navel and attached the pincers. Squeezing hard, the pliers made a soft wet sound as they crushed the female skin mercilessly. Syn cringed in pain and felt a cold surge of helplessness wash over her. She struggled at the merciless bonds keeping her arms and legs down and presenting her body and her belly for this ordeal, utterly defenceless. The merc was actually grunting with the effort to squeeze and crush her tight, well-muscled flesh.
‘Not a man used…to hard work…are you?!’ Syn whispered through clenched teeth.
In the observation room, Helena suddenly grunted in pain herself as she felt as if her skin over her stomach being torn and crushed. She looked down in shock as Moon turned back to her.
‘Thought you’d like to tune in on her friend as well,’ Moon said. ‘I wouldn’t want you missing anything.’
Helena glared as the man in the room snarled and used his left fist to punch the brunette Amazon in the belly. The woman was holding her abs rock hard to resist the blow, but winced as he pummelled the wicked bruises beginning to mark her skin, the deep purple patches streaked with oozing blood. Despite the pain Helena knew she felt, Syn smiled up at him. ‘Tell me that wasn’t your good arm.’ she scoffed.
The men in the torture cell guffawed. ‘Well, there are some spots on you considerably softer than that!’ the man said with menace in his voice.
‘Bitch has got balls,’ the leader said in grudging admiration.
‘It’s the big balls on her chest I’m interested in,’ pliers-man said, reaching up and grabbing one of Syn’s breasts tightly. ‘You like having your blonde slut over there lick these,
I’ll bet,’ he said, leaning over her. ‘Let’s find out how sensitive they are, dike.’
Cassandra moaned, calling out across the room. ‘She doesn’t know anything!’
‘Then you’d better tell us yourself,’ came back the sneering reply, as the pincers moved towards the trapped sphere of skin.
Helena braced herself, feeling Cassandra’s sick fear as her own, along with Mnemosyn’s trembling resolve. The duality of her sensations, feeling both women’s pain and anguish at the same time, was a gruelling ordeal. Thanks to the neural link she could feel it as the steel closed around the side of her own fullsome tit, then began to grip tighter…tighter. She parted her pink lips and moaned softly as discomfort turned to pain, then to greater pain. She pressed her lips tight as she heard Syn give a small hissing sound of suffering as the pain went on and on. After what seemed like forever the pliers released, then moved and reattached. Pinching again, biting hard, grinding the soft flesh. The torturer was seemingly intent on crushing the mammal meat between the steel teeth to pulp.
Huntress gave long sobs of pain as this new torture combined with the feeling of having metal rods stabbed through her tits, shaking her head to try and deny the hell of her reality. She hung weeping and sweating and sensing the courage that helped Syn endure this pain. She would keep them away from Cassandra as long as she could, no matter what they did to her. The selfless love Mnemosyn felt gave Helena a courage she knew Moon had not counted on, even as her mind was filled with pain tearing at her lush breasts. The Gotham crime-fighter felt the pliers twisting, tearing, threatening to pull the supple meat of Syn’s breasts apart. She screamed and pushed backwards from the floor below her, as if she could distance herself from the women’s agony. The very cruelty of the attack almost mind-numbing. The pliers dug and crushed and pulled and twisted at her breast relentlessly while she screamed for minutes that dragged by like hours, until with a thrill of anguish Syn and Helena both felt them cupping one of the moaning Amazon’s nipples.
All three victims heard the man in the room saying, ‘Let’s see if this gets her to make some noise.’
Syn had known this simply had to come. Yet as the moment arrived, Helena knew she felt a streak of panic rising inside her mind. The nipple, gods, the nipple. Huntress felt her own pink button throb in anticipation of the pain. You cruel, sadistic bastards! she yelled inside her mind. Cassandra was pulling at her bonds, struggling despite the ripping agony of the skewers as her effort made them cut her more. Her bravery meant more anguish for Helena’s spasming body as she was force to feel the pain of both women.
‘No!’ Mnemosyn screamed. ‘No! Tell them...nothing!’ she commanded, jaw tight and pain marking her lovely face. Cassandra watched in utter terror as the metal jaws closed slowly, slowly. Helena was feeling both women’s terror hammering at her even as her pink tit bud throbbed wildly, phantom pain starting to rise at the crest of her mammary.
Moon examined the readouts for Huntresses physical state, the activity in her nervous system and the pain-interpreting parts of her brain almost off the scale. Most other women would have had a seizure already from such prolonged, intense suffering, but the woman screaming above him was young and in near perfect physical condition. Still, Moon knew that the mind was the true target of the professional interrogator. The will to resist would give out long before the body of the most obstinate subject.
‘They are going to suffer, Huntress. You cannot prevent it. But does it not seem unfair that you must feel both their tortures, when a simple answer will leave these foolish women to their fate and grant you release?’
Helena tried not to listen to the pitiless logic of the words; her body screamed at her to find a way to escape this nightmare, to do anything to end the pain. Barbara would know she did her best to hold out – when they knew what she had endured, the awfulness of feeling agony so great no single woman’s body could sustain it, they would forgive her.
‘Your friends cannot help you now, little superhero,’ she heard Moon saying. She screamed again as she felt her breasts crushed and bleeding and burned, her stomach torn and scorched. She prayed for it to stop. ‘Did you really think you were able to play this dangerous game without consequences.?’
Moon was looking up the young woman’s body strung above him. Huntress’ black hair clung wetly to her head and her entire form was literally soaked in perspiration. It dripped from her legs and arms and breasts to form a stain on the floor under her. The readings on his palm computer indicated to the Asian torturer that the subject was getting dangerously close to either a cardiac arrest or an embolism.
With practiced gentleness, the doctor reached up and stroked his victims booted leg. She gave a pitiful sob. ‘Tell me about the Gordon girl,’ he said, his voice soft.
‘Oh please…’ Helena whimpered. Her voice rose in pitch as she heaved again, becoming shrill. ‘Please make it stop!’
‘You can stop it, my dear. Just tell me what you know. Stop doing this to yourself.’ Moon noticed a trickle of blood coming from the woman’s nose. ‘Don’t let yourself die in this chamber. Give up the information. Save yourself.’
Huntress lifted her head, body rigid. Her shoulder and hips trembled at the verge of dislocating and she shook violently as she howled inhumanly. ‘I CAN’T!!!!’ she shrieked.
And then in the room beyond the pliers closed around Syn’s proudly strutting tit bud and the brunette Amazon groaned in pain...then started to scream as the man put all his strength in the crushing of her nipple.
Like Huntress, Syn could no longer hold the pain in. Even for an Amazon there was a limit to what could be suppressed. She screamed, her back arching as she instinctively tried to ease the pull on her tit button, but the man moved the pliers, keeping the hurtful pull relentless. He ground the nubbin between the jaws, blood trickling down over Syn round boob, while Cassandra screamed for his to stop and Helena just screamed.
‘Let´s see, how long that tit can get,’ one of the other men watching the torture giggled. Pliers-man pulled back, dragging the tit with him. Syn trying to lift herself as she felt her breast flesh distorting as it tried to stretch, reaching its limit and then continuing painfully beyond. Helena felt the horrifying duality of the torture, as for Syn the strain was far beyond any endurance...her tit-tip felt like being ripped of her breast any second now...and the man pulled just a little farther...and just a little farther, still...smiling insanely down at her. She shook her head back and forth, her pain beyond screaming now, a hell that could not be expressed.
Helena’s eyes flew wide and she grit her teeth as she watched her own, perfectly shaped breast which looked totally normal....yet was filled with white-blinding pain from the pull on Syns tit, the blades and burns from Cassandra’s. She could feel the wet warmth of blood flowing down over her belly as her nipple bled - they were grinding the helpless tit to red meat, destroying it. The pain was so great, Helena felt Syn actually wishing for the tit to snap so this particular torture could not be prolonged any more, and in her mind Helena experienced the clamps on her own tits, tearing her nipples off as she watched and screamed and screamed.
‘AAAAIIEEEEEEEE! YEEEAAAAAAAAGGGHHH!!’
Abruptly the man let Syn’s tit go, the boob snapping back into shape. The very act of release brought a moment of pain for the Amazon and the heroine, the relief turning to anguish as the other tit was cupped by greedy male hands.
‘Cassandra - be strong, my love!' Syn was yelling, sobbing! Both women about to relive the pain shouted out inside their mind, pleading silently for deliverance. ‘Oh goddess,’ both women heard the blonde moan, ‘Oh goddess Athena, save us…’
The pressure began again, Syn weeping now, eyes wet and angry. Tears were streaming down Cassandra’s face too, and Helena was tortured not only by the agony to her body but also the pain in each Amazon’s heart as her loved one was brutalised without mercy.
‘I love you,’ the Cassandra yelled. ‘I love you, Mnemosyn.’ The words were lost in Syn’s cry as the pain filled her fresh tit.
‘I love doing this!’ the leader said as he watched his follower crush Syn’s other tit-bud with the pliers.
The clamp twisted, dragging the imprisoned bud around a full half turn as more blood leaked out between the jaws. She bucked on the table. ‘You are SCUM!’ Syn shrieked.
‘Amazons...phhht!’ Pliers chuckled, as he increased the pressure. ‘Work a bit on their tits and pussy and they scream and whimper like women are supposed to do!’
‘You...FILTHY VERMIN...ARRRRR...STOP! STOP IT! STOOP....AAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!’
He worked the nipple with the pliers, twisting and tearing. Syn and Huntress were screaming continuously. ‘You think you can say stop to us, slut!’ the leader spat, while his friend went on twisting her nipple all the way around. Her mouth was so wide in scream Helena though her face would tear at the corners.
One of the men went over to Cassandra. Grabbing her head, he pulled it up by the long golden mane to get a better view of her sister/lover suffering.
‘AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!’
‘You want us to stop, cunt?’ the leader snapped at Cassandra. ‘Tell us the computer codes.’ Cassandra shook her head with her red eyes wet with tears, as the mercenary pushed the pliers deep into Syn’s breast, mauling the soft fatty tissue of the brown haired beauties womanly curves. Her scream was awful. ‘Tell us, or her pussy is next!’
‘They’re going to kill them both and take you to hell with them, if you don’t answer me, Moon told the suffering Helena. The lithe acrobat gibbered in pain and anguish. She knew it was true, and the women would die in agony.
And then she heard the blonde speaking, sobbing, wailing. Her voice was thick with despair. ‘I can’t…I CAN’T!!’
Helena wanted to talk. She wanted the pain to be over, would have done almost anything to make that happen. The agony wracking her six foot form was so terrible she felt her hear was about to explode, her brain ready to burn itself from within from having to process the agony in every part of her from her toes to her head. But Cassandra’s refusal to submit despite the burns and the knives torturing her, despite the anguish of seeing her lover mutilated, she wouldn’t give up. Helena felt ashamed, and humbled. She had though she was a hero, but now she saw what true heroism was.
All she could do was shake her head, as the tear spilled down her cheeks. Cassandra was sobbing wretchedly. The torturers were finished pulling and twisting and yanking at Syn’s tit, it seemed. The man let go of it and his gaze wandered down over Syn’s bruised belly towards her open, defenceless vagina. The neatly trimmed patch of brown fuzz left no hidden places, and her spread legs let the men see her soft pinkness peeking out from behind the outer petals.
On the torture table, the brunette gasped for air, weak from screaming. He turned to Cassandra. ‘You going to talk slut?’ he said, face full of passion. It was clear he did not care one way or the other.
Cassandra bashed her head against her own table, shaking with sobs. ‘You damned animals,’ she said, ‘you filthy, dirty spawn of Typhon!’
The leader turned back to Syn, who had recovered enough to look up at him. ‘Can’t say I understood all that fucking shit, but I guess that’s a no.’ His eyes roamed down the helpless Amazon beneath him to the sweet mound of her pussy. He smiled like a reptile. ‘Too bad for you, cunt, but no reason it has to be a total loss for the rest of us.’
He reached down and unzipped his body suit down as far as his crotch. His stiff wet cock sprang out immediately. Syn breathed faster, seeing it pointing straight at her sex.
Suspended behind the two-way glass Helena could feel the disgust in the Themyscrian woman’s mind, remembering the last time she had seen a man’s cock, just before he and his friends had raped her for hours. Huntress did not profess to be a leading authority on functional relationships with men, but at least she had some experience of warmth and tenderness in being intimate with a man. For Syn her only knowledge was the brutal thrusting of a savage, unwanted cock slamming in and out of her like she was a piece of meat to be used, and now it was happening again.
Mnemosyn turned away, refusing to watch his penis closing in on her slit. ‘You should feel honoured, slut. That we grant you one final piece of “decent” sex before you crush that pretty pussy of yours!’ He leered as his cock began pushing against her nether lips.
‘Please - leave her alone,’ Cassandra gasped, then moaned as one of the men near her rubbing her wounded tits. ‘How about you join in instead,’ he said, pulling out his own engorged cock and stepping up over the stabbed and burned blonde.
Helena viewed and felt this scene with nothing short of horror. Each woman’s physical pain her emotional anguish at being raped in front of her beloved; at being helpless to save the one she love best in the world from the ultimate defilement.
The leader was panting like a horny dog as he guided his dick into contact with Syn’s fuck lips, moving to position himself. His hands were on her spread knees and Syn cursed and spat at him, yanking frantically at her bonds. Even as she did, his friend reached down and squeezed a big firm tit on Cassandra and pushed himself between her tapered thighs.
Helena gasped at the vile sensation. She felt the invasion of her cunt twice while both sisters linked to her were penetrated. Each Amazon was feeling her pussy spread by the invading cock. The one man crushed Cassandra’s breast viciously as he forced his hard dick deep into her cunt, grunting with pleasure. He began rutting into her fuck-shaft like an animal, even as the lovely blonde’s scream prompted the leader pushing into Syn to grab up the pliers and use them on her long supple thighs to make her tremble in pain. The rapist’s steel hard dick drank in the motion of her firm body.
The last man, not going to be left out of the carnal crimes, came round near Syn’s head, pulling it back for her to see his own huge member as he worked it free of his uniform. ‘Make blondie there sing for us, man,’ he shouted out to his compatriot, and the criminal complied by putting his hands on the skewers imbedded in Cassandra’s firm breasts, twisting them in the steeply curving mounds so that the buxom lore-master shrieked in agony and the man in her cried out in pleasure. The mercenary raping Cassandra slowed down his rutting somewhat, giving himself the time to build up strength to ram his cock as hard into her velvety fuck-tube as hard as he could as he pulled the skewers again and the woman’s screams became almost deafening.
‘You suck me or the blonde cunt looses those big tits,’ the soldier next to Syn hissed, as the leader continued his deep lunges into her sex, panting in rapture. Syn glared contemptuously through tear filled brown eyes, but slowly opened her mouth as her head jerked softly with the rhythm of the cock fucking her.
The man over Cassandra leered at his rape-victim as he watched Syn taking the third guys dick into her mouth. ‘See,’ he grunted down at the gorgeous tall blonde, ‘your bitch doesn’t care who she uses her mouth on. Dirty lez sluts, the both of you. Unnn, yeah, at least, now you get fucked like your are supposed to!’ And with a powerful thrust he buried his member inside Cassandra’s vagina and spat in her beautiful face.
Even as Helena grunted in her bonds and thrashed violently, Moon stood watching rapt as the defiant heroine endured TRIPLE rape. Her vital signs were spiking, blood pressure and neurological activity well above what a normal human body could withstand, and the scientific sadist knew even a body as finely maintained as Huntress’ would soon give out. ‘I’m afraid you are not going to last, my dear. But don’t worry – all my studies indicate that you are far more likely to be reduced to a vegetative state before your heart ruptures.’
Helena pulled herself up, screaming again. Her whole life was screaming now. Her whole world. She could feel the three phalluses inside her, pounding her and tearing her, tearing her whole body apart. She gagged, tasting cock that was not in her mouth but was in her mind. Convulsions wracked her, twisting and tearing her own muscles to add to the torment. Her spine bent back so hard the vertebrae were grinding together, as her nervous system tried to absorb the signals of agony and despair being beamed into her.
‘You will be a useless thing of flesh, trapped forever inside your own body with the eternal memory of this moment, this agony.’
Cocks. Rape. Pain. Blood sprayed from her mouth as Huntress screamed. ‘NO MORE, PLEASE!’
‘Who is Barbara Gordon,’ Moon demanded.
‘AAAEEEEAAAAAAAAAA! PLEASE GOD, NO MORE!!’
‘WHO IS BARBARA GORDON? TELL ME!’ Moon barked.
Huntresses body twisted so violently Moon heard her right shoulder pop, the pain adding to the hellish torture already coursing through her body. Her head rolled on her shoulders as she shrieked and gibbered. Her tight breasts shook like globes of jelly as she hung, muscles bunched, cramping uncontrollably.
Helena was no longer conscious of anything but the pain and what would make it stop. Her cunt was aflame with the violent penetration of the two warrior women. She felt their hands on her body cut and burned and stabbed, felt their weight as they pushed in and out of her. ‘Barbara…AAARRRRRRGGHHHHH…NOOOO, oh fuck…BARBARA!!!’
Moon leaned forward, sensing victory. ‘Yes, child…tell me. Tell me now!’
In the torture room, the man atop Cassandra felt his cum building up in his balls. He grabbed both the heaving tits of the Amazons chest and pulled at them so she screamed, her body bucking to the blades inside her cut her more, hurt her worse. Her golden hair spilled over her face and she howled and he felt the sperm flowing through his dick and shooting up into the whores womb. ‘Yeessssssss, you fucking bitch! he hissed as the wad of semen desecrated the inside of her body.
Helena sobbed like a child, unable to stop the words spilling from her lips. ‘B-BARBARA, AAAAHHHHH!!! BARBARA IS…’
Across the room the leader also stiffened, his breath tight as he felt his dick throbbing , ready to unleash. He pumped his cock as fast as he could, ass clenched tight even as he brought the pliers down on the top of her cleft. The crushing steel clamped around Syn’s helpless clitoris.
‘Ooooooooohhhhhhmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaaaannnn!!!’
Syn shrieked, as she felt the pliers crushing her clit, her scream muffled around the cock pumping in and out of her throat. Only her iron, Amazon will prevented her retaliating by biting into the dick of the third rapist, knowing that her lover would suffer for it. The cum spilled over her lips and chin as he spurted his load, holding his cock deep in her throat so he was chocking on his orgasming fuck-rod. In a burst of passion the leader slammed the steel heads of the pliers together, smashing Mnemosyn’s clitoris in a spurt of red blood. The man fucking her mouth ripped his dick free and spattered her face with the last of his cum as the brunette screamed her head off.
‘GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!’
‘NO!’ Cassandra shrieked, ‘NOOOOOOOOOOO!’
And in the viewing room, Helena felt her world burst apart, her nervous system burning from within as it finally collapsed under the incoming stimulus. She rose up, every joint locked and muscle rock hard, howling at the ceiling as she felt the pain of having her clitoris brutally, mindlessly destroyed, and then suddenly slumped down in her bonds completely inert, body shutting down as her mind plunged into an abyss of infinite darkness.
Moon stared up in shock at the woman hanging above him, then looked at his pad, taking in the flat-lining vital signs. He had been so close!
Very slowly, the spectacled doctor turned his cold, angry eyes towards the mercenaries whooping and high-fiving beyond the pane glass window.
***
Also watching the scene, the two shadowy figures absorbed this sudden failure. The shorter of the pair particularly seemed extremely upset. ‘What the fuck was that!’ he spat out, swivelling to face his comrade.
His partner shrugged. ‘A certain amount of unpredictability is to be expected,’ he said simply.
‘We had her ready to give it all up, and then you spring that on me. Predictable unpredictability? Are you for real?!!!’
The taller figure was unperturbed. ‘Now there is an ironic comment,’ was all he said.
The two stared at each for a moment in front of the bank of viewing screens. ‘I thought,’ the smaller one said at last, ‘that we would have better control of the situation.’
‘If we had total control,’ his partner said carefully, ‘we would already have all the answers we seek. The nature of this invasion, our need to fly under the radar as it were, dictates that we must allow the subjects a certain amount of random happenstance. Unless,’ he added, ‘you wish to tackle the situation more directly.’
‘No,’ the other said after a pause. ‘You are correct. Forgive my frustration. I trust, though, that we are not going to let any such “random happenstance” derail our plans for the Amazon.’
The taller figure smiled, calling up the image of Wonder Woman still trapped in the rocky torture chamber with Neron and his demons. ‘Don’t worry,’ he smiled, ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
Part ix
Diana
Barbara watched Wonder Woman being tortured, her body being mutilated slowly and gratuitously. No questions were asked of the bound Amazon. This was not an interrogation. This was pure, undiluted sadism.
She could see her friends and the captive Amazons struck with horror and anger and heart-tearing agony to see how much Diana was suffering. She could see the villains watching the spectacle cheering and laughing. They were enjoying what was happening, seeing a human being that had done nothing in her whole life but fight to uphold justice and goodness reduced to a thing of sex and pain.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to tear free from her chest. She wanted to scream and smash the screens with her fist.
But she knew…she knew that was what they wanted. For her emotions to control her, her anger to sweep her away. That meant she was close. She was on the right path.
‘You bastards!’ she screamed at the view screens, and her tears were real and she used them. ‘You FUCKING COWARDLY BASTARDS!’ They wanted to use her anger, but instead she used it against them. Let them see her raging, out of control.
Let them see what they wanted to see, so they would never see her, coming for them.
***
She was standing shackles with her arms outstretched, her legs in the metal vices while another vice went on crushing the fingers of one hand. On the other arm she has razor wire around her bicep, cutting her every time she flexed the powerful muscle. Her other hand was held in a clamp with acid dripping onto her palm, making her want to pull away and tear her bicep to shreds. All this pain went on across the exotically curved palette of her body as the foul beasts used hot pokers on her thighs, and a flail whip on her torso and back.
So Diana stood, in constant pain, the demons with their monstrously erect sex organs moving around her, eager to inflict more suffering at the command of Neron, their master. Meanwhile those watching on screens around the captive island were either horrified or elated at the sight of punishment being inflicted on that perfect Amazon body, the signs of deep suffering etched across even her lovely face.
Another drop of the foul green fluid seared its way into her hand, as a diamond tear glittered in the corner of one of the Princesses crystal blue eyes. Neron leaned forward, examining his helpless captive with inhuman satisfaction. He could feel her soul seared with impotent fury...not only the pain, but also her helplessness that was beyond infuriating.
'You want this to end Diana, I know,' Neron chuckled. His voice seemed to come not just from his mouth but from everywhere at once, and the very malice in it left the gorgeous heroine feeling soiled. 'I might be tempted to allow it, if I could hear only two words from those sweet lips.'
Diana lips moved as she hissed a reply in Themyscrian. The other Amazons watching the vision of horror both gasped and smiled to hear their beloved Princess use such language. Neron chuckled again and slowly shook his head.
‘Not those two, no,’ he admonished. 'I was thinking more of; “I surrender.”
All over the imprisoned island dozens of villainous eyes watched in expectation, half hoping to hear the words, half hoping she would refuse. It was the latter half who were not disappointed.
'You will never hear any Amazon utter those words, Lord of Filth' Diana whispered through her pain, wincing again as her leg muscles spasmed inside the cruel metal vice.
Neron shrugged, leaning back, but his glowing emerald eyes burned a little brighter. It was clear he met such defiance all to rarely, and was savouring the encounter. 'A god has nothing but time, Highness' he smiled, signalling the demons to bring over the device he had indicated. It was a leather harness, to which was attacked a kind of metal vice. Two heavy plates sat facing each other on either side, each studded with small pyramid shapes. Diana looked at the contraption with the understanding and deep disgust, the disgust only possible for a woman confronted with something designed solely for torturing a woman’s body.
The Justice League mainstay watched the device put in place as she spoke. ‘You are no god, villain,’ she spat.
‘Perhaps not in the traditional sense. Non-the-less, you will give me your worship.’
The demons snickered as they closed in on her holding the vile instrument, one of them making a remark about one of the last free parts of her body not adorned with a torture device. Diana felt her head forced back as they fitted an iron collar about her throat, a fastening on the bottom helping to support the leatherwear to which the vice was fixed. The other creature was pulling the straps across her back so they cut into the wounds already there from whip and irons, adding to her torments.
‘Never!’ the tight muscled heroine promised fearlessly, despite her endless suffering.
‘We shall see.’
Diana stood horribly immobile, no move able to be made without causing some part of her to hurt more. The metal plates felt strangely cold as they cupped the sides of her sweat soaked chest. There were rods joining the plates, each ending in two large screws and framing her soft mounds in merciless metal rectangle.
‘I love this one,’ one of the demons announced proudly to Diana’s contemptous gaze. ‘Really hurts, really hurts,’ he giggled. She ignored him, trying to ignore the pain coming from every part of her and feeling Neron’s glowing eyes on her. She knew he sought not just the destruction of her body but also her spirit. But the wisdom of Athena granted to her told her that there was more to this even than that.
‘You are…no mortal’s lackey…Neron,’ Diana grated out against the pain hammering and burning and tearing at her. The vice was firmly in place now, just waiting to start hurting her breasts, but she kept herself focused on the demon king. ‘Why…are you…doing Savage’s…bidding.’
The monsters began to work the screws, the plates tightening instantly, pressing softly at first on the yielding globes, then with greater force.
‘You are mistaken, Princess,’ Neron replied, watching the gradual change of shape in Diana’s rounded chest. ‘In part at least – it is true the schemes of petty mortals, or even immortals like Savage, are of no interest to me.’ Diana kept her blue eyes steady in spite of the pain, the crushing steel closing around her breasts. ‘But to taste the vile nectar of those wretched souls who crave to see such a pure spirit suffer, to make her a thing of lust and pain – that is always worth a sojourn on this pitiful world.’
Diana’s fight against her instincts was nothing short of herculanian. So others were watching this twisted debauchery, revelling in her pain. Her nature was to rage against these creatures, thrash in her bonds with all her might in order to escape the surge of fresh pain in her breasts. Instead, she called on all her Amazon training. She breathed out loudly through her nose, face stony but the fatigue of torture plain to see.
The plates had now moved to within just over a foot of each other, her breasts bulging provocatively in their embrace. With every slow twist of the screw, the space diminished, her pain growing in step with the shrinking gap. She could feel both her breasts throbbing, faintly at first but with ever-greater intensity, as the skin was pulled, twisted, the studs digging in painfully.
Diamond drops glittered as they formed and ran across the curving surface. The two monsters watched her silent, defiant agony with fascination as well, as the increasingly distorting pair of pain-throbbing breasts were crushed in the vice.
'Ohhhhhhhhh' she moaned faintly, the plates now making even breathing an exercise in suffering. One demon leaned in closer. Diana hissed in contempt, as his long, forked tongue caressed her moist cheek, licking up her tears.
‘This tastes good!’ he said and turned to his evil companion working the vice. ‘Make her do more of this water coming from her eyes!’
Diana cursed silently as his friend giggled, whatever lingering humanity the two possessed after being transformed by the White Magician’s spell succumbing fully to their new demonic nature. As the breast screw turned again and the pain flowed through her trapped mammaries, Diana saw the other devil turn to where the coals were heating the irons again, dipping his claw into the yellow embers without the slightest hesitation. He lifted them out with his hands coated in glowing sparks, like angry fireflies, then pushed them against the moist bulging meat of the Amazons tits.
The tall woman-warrior gasped as she felt the burning embers crushed into her breast flesh, his claws cruelly mauling her as she was scorched across her ample chest. The red flakes hissed like serpents as they burned her skin, and the demon groaned in pleasure as he repeated the process while his companion lapped at the salty moisture in those blue eyes. He could feel her erect nipples against his palm as the chained slut before him moaned and shuddered.
The monster removed his hands, allowing his partner to go to work on the screws again, closing the gap more and more as his own tongue flicked out and licked at the angry burns on her boobs and around her nipples.
Diana shuddered and trembled in place held in bondage by chains, vices and torture instruments as she felt her mighty breasts being crushed against each other and compressed more and more and more.....surely, the next turn of the screw would make them tear open...the next one would do it. But it didn’t...it just increased the agony in her tits. As did the next turn of the screws. And the next. Her proud breasts pounded and throbbed and burned with pain from which she could not escape.
More gasps of suffering came from her full red lips, each one a dagger in the heart of her watching Amazon sisters. They endured their own tortures and violations bravely, but not a one did not weep brokenly to see their Princess tortured.
‘AAAAAAAA.’ she panted, her tits now pushed out obscenely from her chest, the nipples expanding as the flesh was stretched. The demon licking at her face ceased his work in order to pursue a more productive line of action. Staring at Wonder Woman’s bloated tit-tips and engorged nipples, he took his well-used cat-of-nine-tails whip back up....and relished smacking the horrid cords across the beautiful Princess’ poor breast-tops.
Her moan of anguish came from deep within her, the expanded flesh offering less resistance so that even her super resilient skin was broken at once, blood flowing down over her nubs and dripping from the underside of her tits to the stone floor.
Her breasts wanted to jiggle and shake under the impact but their compression held them firm, ripe for more pain.
The first demon stopped and lapped the bloody drops as they fell, at the same time turning the screw on her leg clamp. Wonder Woman panted and moaned as she felt her lower leg bone crack slightly, the pain like glass being driven into her muscle from within. Her head turned left and right, and she groaned louder as the movement made the razor wire rip her arm more deeply.
Diana dipped her head as much as she could, letting the lank dark hair cover her face and hide her pain, and her shame. She saw her breast, grotesquely malformed by the hellish torture device, bloodied by the whip and burned by the coals, and she closed her eyes in misery. Again she heard Neron in her mind - 'Just two little words....just two little words...’
She made herself open her eyes again, even the pain and the horror better than the thought of giving in to these creatures. But for how long the little voice laughed at her from within.
‘You are incredible, Diana,’ Neron confessed. ‘No other woman has ever been so brave under my tortures - or so beautiful.’
‘I...’ Diana stopped, working up moisture in her mouth to continue speaking. ‘I live to please, lord of pigs and vermin!’ she snarled, musical voice thick with pain and sarcasm.
He laughed again. ‘By every power, Amazon, I shall have to truly test your womanly mettle.’
He motioned to the beasts, and the screws made the plates move to within half a foot of each other; six inches of agony filled breast meat being crushed between them so powerfully blood ran down around the studs.
‘GGGGG...AAAAAAAA!!!!’
Oh merciful Athena, make your poor daughter strong she prayed silently as she sobbed aloud. The pain was constant now, her arms, legs and tits - nothing on or inside her body did not hurt. She smelled the burned flesh of her hand, felt the blood from fractured fingers where her nails were broken and crushed. She felt a slap to her face, the claws opening three shallow wounds on her cheek, and she opened her eyes to see the demon servants holding a short length of chain. It was shaped like a Y at one end, each of those extremes ending in a wicked barbed hook, and at the other end it looped around on itself to form a shape like a bikini thong she had seen the south American heroine Fire wear once to taunt Booster Gold and Blue Beetle.
The beast undid this part of the chain, allowing him to pass it under her body and around her hips and then refasten it. It hung on her like a pair on sheer, metallic briefs, the links brushing the spread slit between her legs as Diana looked at him wrathfully. Then the grinning horror held up the two hooks in front her, level with her distorted tit globes. She looked from one hook the other and back, eyes heavy lidded, face a mask of desperate defiance.
The other demon cupped her tits, tenderly this time, but holding them out towards the hooks, the horrible hooks, as his brother monster turned them over, the points angled down as they came nearer.
Diana put all her strength into not whimpering and wailing like a frightened child. It was nothing else than a living hell having these creatures torturing her body with more and more and more devices of degrading pain, but she knew that she could not give in to the pain and fear. Not just for her own sake, but for all those like Donna and Artemis and her friends who needed her to find a way out of this horror.
The powerful and helpless heroine felt one hook on her tit. She winced but kept steady, the point just above the engorged circle of her nipple. He pushed it, turning it back and forth with demonic strength, and when her skin broke more blood gushed out like hot syrup over her teat and her cry warbled off the walls.
‘NNNYAAAAAAAAAAA!’
He left her with the pulsing torment of the piercing, moving to the other breast. Once again, she felt the demons’ hot hard cocks against her skin. But all they seemed to care for now was her pain, her unendurable, hellish, relentless agony. She felt the hook go in again, like she was no more than meat, the pain of them metal behind her nipples so bad her tears rand like little streams.
The demon tightened the chain around her waist, and she felt it moving past her womanhood’s outer lips and up into the sweet pink crease beyond. He was pulling a link at a time, in no hurry with this new and barbarous cruelty. Diana felt the links moving up as high as they could go, as high as the anatomy of her womanly form would allow, tighter and tighter inside her.
Inside her...it was horrible, monstrous pain. She felt her womanhood being split in two by the chain, and by some kind of cosmic injustice one link had managed to position itself exactly sideways on her clit, pushing viciously against her cunt-bud. Her sobs were loud and constant, a mixture of outrage, bravery, and suffering. The link made her clit bulge like her tits in miniature, hurting it, exposing it totally. The spreader bar didn’t let her close her legs - they could see her most intimate female being and she could do nothing to stop them.
‘Such a little thing,’ Neron said, and she raised her head to see him right in front of her. ‘It will hurt you so much, Diana - should I just cut it off, spare you that agony?’
Her face was wet with sweat and tears, her lips were trembling. ‘Do as…you will, Lord of...maggots...AAAAAA!! But I…nnn…will never…unnNNNN…never serve you!’
Almost any other woman would have been sobbing and begging, ready to promise anything to escape the pain the beauteous prisoner was in, assuming they could even survive it without their heart exploding or the mind shutting down. Even among the captive heroines there were few who would not have broken or died by now after the days of non-stop agony.
But this was no ordinary woman, no ordinary super-hero.
Neron reached down, moving his hand, raising it with his own breeches in his grasp. Diana’s eyes narrowed as he stepped back a little so she could see his monster cock, hard, rigid, pulsing with evil intent.
***
The screen went blank. Barbara started, and on her other screens she heard the curses and wails of the villains who seconds before had been hooting and cheering with undisguised relish.
She stared at the screens for a moment, then pounded her fist against the console. ‘What’s happening,’ she shouted, knowing her fear and frustration would be shared by all the Amazons who had been watching. There was no reply.
‘Damn you!’ she screamed into the mocking silence.
***
‘We shall have this time just for us, my dear Princess,’ Neron promised, watching Diana struggle with renewed power despite the damage it did to her burned and lacerated nakedness. ‘Not for your cunt, harlot Princess’ he said, indicating his fully erect member as his servants moved stone blocks beside her. He stepped up onto them his cock now level with her crushed and torn breasts. ‘You do not yet deserve that great honour.’ He stooped his hips, the evil shaft coming up under her crushed cleavage.
And then he pushed, grunting and smiling.
Superhuman strength forced the cock between the breasts smashed together by the compression. Diana jerked with the force, the chain pushed up into her pussy even deeper, her chain grinding against the her captive clitoris while the hooks tore at her breasts.
‘AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!’
His cock felt as thick as Diana’s wrist, and its steel-hard presence between her crushed tits caused the bloated breasts to be pushed even harder against the studded plates of the vice, sending fresh waves of inhuman agony through her tortured breast-globes. Diana turned her head away and screamed in rage at being unable to resist this monstrous violation of her person. She felt sick with humiliation, the disgust plain on her gorgeous face. Laughing like the fiend he was, the lord of hell pushed again, and yet again, each thrust getting his phallus further between her agony-filled boobs as the hooks dug into her tit and her cunt was split by the chain.
Neron stared down at his prisoner, revelling in her hatred fully as much as the physical pleasure of her luscious chest mashed around his burrowing cock. He could have gotten fully between them with one powerful jerk of his hips, but he wanted her to hurt, hurt the most he possibly could, both bodily and spiritually.
With each surge forward his huge balls mashing against her rib-cage, her skin slick with sweat and blood. Diana felt his hand on her head, twining his fingers through her ebony hair and pushing her face down with a strength even her won Earth-born power could not resist. He twisted her head down to see his cock head emerging from between her vice tortured teats, thrusting gently now to pleasure himself. To the netherworld ruler her tits feeling like the world’s tightest pussy around his penis as it rose up towards her, then sank back, over and over. The hand holding her hair seemed to burn, and unbidden the image of Donna suffering this same vile torment flooded her mind, piercing her mental barriers as violently as the hooks had pierced her breasts.
‘OH GODDESS NO! NOOOO!’
Despite all her training and force of will, the Amazon warrior could not prevent her tears falling on the demon’s rape tool. The feelings of failure and shame crashed over her in an unstoppable wave, sweeping her away. The drops from her azure eyes splashed on his cock, salty and hot, and she heard him groan with a delight that made her want to vomit. Then she felt her head jerked back so she had to look at his face, his grinning, sneering gloating face.
Neron licked his lips as pushed hard, yanking on the clit chain to make her scream.
‘YAAAAAA....AAAIIIEEE!’
‘Yes whore Princess,’ Neron laughed. ‘Feel the pain. Feel is as your Amazons felt it, your friends, you sister!’
‘NOOO! DAMMIT! LEAVE THEM ALONE!’
‘Feel the agony they feel because they trusted you.’ He watched her face twist in rage and pain with each stroke of his cock between her tits, his green eyes blazing with evil. Rage at the infamy of his act and the pain of her tits being crushed and pierced and torn at and the chain cutting into her sex with each of his movements. ‘Feel their agony and know that its because you have FAILED THEM!’
Diana screamed, her brain burning as her body twisted. Her blood spilled down her arm and the bones of her leg splintered inside her, shredding her flesh. The bones of her hand gleamed white where the acid has scoured away the skin and sinew, and more blood streamed down her chest from the hooks ripped deep into her breasts. She screamed, fighting not to lose herself, the pain tearing at her womanhood and deep into her.
‘Filthy!’
Thrust.
‘GGGGGGG!’
‘Amazon!’
Thrust!
‘AAAAARRRRRR!’
‘CUNT!’
THRUST!!
YAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!’
He pushed her face down towards his dick again. His cock-head moved faster and faster between her breasts, and then his cock-slit parted farther and she knew at once what was cumming! Diana felt her sex soaked in her own red blood as green slime bubbled up, hitting her chin, searing like the acid on her hand. His fist grabbed the chain and as they both screamed together as his hell-cum spurted against her lips and mouth, boiling across the tops of her bloated, tortured breasts and drowning Diana in pain and darkness.
Part x
Birds of prey
Black canary
‘Very well then,’ the Doctor said, and Deathstroke moved the crop back to the right mound. He circled the nipple twice, the woman shuddering in anticipation. Then her drew back and slammed the crop onto her right tit.
WHACKKKK - driving hard into the tit peak!
‘YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!’’ Dinah screamed as she shuddered in place, but with incredible strength of will she kept herself arched and her breast thrust out, even against every instinct to pull it back from the pain just inflicted on it.
This time when he hit her he drew his arm back over his shoulder, the crop whistling down and smacking into the top of her tit like a branding iron. She almost threw up, her guts churning as she locked her shoulders in place. Her rigid posture made her tit an easy target as he hit her for the third time, her head tossing to one side as she gave a raw scream of pain.
Clearly determined to test the extent of his victim’s mettle, the paid killer elected next to punish her left mammary not with the tip of the crop but with the thin body of it, making the wood slice into her bulging tit right atop her nipple, indenting the tit-peak and the breast-meat inwards. Dinah could feel the wood of the crop actually pressing down against the skewer thrust through her woman’s meat. She yelled out in wordless, animalistic suffering.
But somehow, she managed to keep her body bowed forwards, her bruised and battered bust thrust out for more punishment. He hit her again, and she screamed, and her eyes were wide as saucers as she stared murder at him, lips pulled back in suffering from her white teeth. Her knees threatened to buckle but she kept herself standing, available to for more abuse at his hands.
With sadistic relish, he hit her again - this time full on the paddle battered left tit, so the pain was like a shotgun blast to her chest and she howled. ‘FUCK YOU!’ she screamed in shock and outrage.
‘Oops, missed’ he mocked, then hit the left tit again.
Dinah felt tears streaming from her eyes and her guts twisted in anguish and despair. This was nothing short of living hell, living death.
The doctor kept beating her left tit now, expertly covering the battered breast with vicious blows of his riding crop as Dinah twisted and squirmed in her chains, her hands clenching and unclenching and her mouth opened to utter scream after scream after scream. And as she knew, just KNEW that she would not be able to take a single more blow...not a SINGLE ONE, without tearing her breasts open in an attempt to escape the hellish torment...the doctor stopped.
Chained in the middle of the room - her breasts heavily bound as she was forced to rest on her knees before the men who had total power of her - Dinah breathed deeply, using every one of the martial skills she possessed to control her bodies response to the pain they have inflicted so far. The whip welts to her ass, her breasts, the terrible wounds inflicted by the skewer that had been rammed through those ripe round orbs of meat.
All the time sickeningly aware of the cameras recording every moment of this degradation so that her suffering can be used to further torture Ollie, lure him into the trap in which Deathstroke planned to destroy him.
Dinah stared up at the men, forcing herself not to think how much worse this will get - not just for herself, but the for man she loved. He couldn’t see them break her!
‘Its only pain’ the woman nicknamed the blonde bombshell told herself over and over. ‘You’ve trained to overcome it - the time to strike back will come - for now, you fight them the only way you can...’
The Crime Doctor, meanwhile, was pulling off his latex gloves, wiping down his hands. Behind his mask he was grinning mirthlessly, as if reading her very thoughts. ‘I’ve simply got to say Ms Lance, you are one very determined woman.’ He shook his head in surprise. ‘Originally I thought it was a mistake us telling you exactly what the plan was - the whole thing about Green Arrow, but now I see Slade here was right; it would have made no difference to a woman like you.’
Dinah lifted her chin but didn’t trust her voice enough to speak yet, so let her silent glare be her answer.
‘Wonderful!’ the Doctor said delightedly. ‘You know if you talk right now you might seem weak, so you wait and bide your time.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Just wonderful.’
Slade nodded. ‘Your every bit the fighter I’d come to expect, Canary, and that’s not a complement I hand out lightly.’
‘You two are...going to make me...all weepy,’ she said softly, feeling her strength returning a little. ‘If you really want a fight, Slade, why not fight me on equal terms?’ she hissed with venom and contempt in her voice.
‘That might be more interesting than I had once thought,’ Slade admitted. ‘But business must come first.’
As he nodded to the Doctor the green gowned ghoul was reaching to the table and picking up another syringe, this one filled with a faintly luminous yellow fluid. ‘Another... stimulant?’ she breathed slowly. ‘This is kinda...dragging out a bit.’
‘A stimulant, yes, but not in the way you think,’ the evil surgeon said. He took the step of swabbing her arm, even though there were cuts from the whips still bleeding on her breasts and shoulders. The he pressed the point to her flesh, just where the deltoid was sloping into her bicep. She barely felt the prick over the multitude of other hurts radiating through her body. ‘This particular stimulant is of a unique kind, invented by a doctor Jonathan Crane. Though you might know him better as the Scarecrow’ he added with a sinister grin.
Dinah twitched, feeling the liquid pumping in her bloodstream. All at once, she felt hot, flushed. She shuddered, her body trembling slightly, the chains around her wrists rattling as her knees shook against the floor.
‘Unnnnnnn! Bastards,’ she hissed, ‘Fucking bastards!’ as she realized just before her sanity started to crumble what they were doing to her.
The Doctor was looming in her face as she blinked rapidly. ‘Ah, I see you are familiar with Dr Crane’s research on the nature of fear.’ The gorgeous blonde was breathing fast, her full , cut marked breasts shaking as she burst out in a cold sweat all over her skin. ‘What are you afraid of Ms Lance?’
‘Not.....YOU!’ she gasped, her mind racing as she felt a knot of raw terror welling up in her gut.
‘We’ll see,’ he said, standing up.
Slade moving over towards her, her blue eyes flashing to him, wide with fear. NO her mind screamed, its not real, its a drug its a drug its not real!
‘That’s a funny thing to say, Ms. Lance. Actually, most people are afraid of doctors...especially those who use their skills for inflicting pain!’
Deathstoke came over, holding what looked like a long metal rod with a battery at one end. Dinah was breathing so fast she felt light-headed, her mind pounding with the knowledge of how much the rod was going to hurt her. She wanted to scream for mercy but she bit her tongue, whimpering softly and hating herself for it.
One brief touch of the metal to her bruised backside and her mouth stretched wide in voice as current blazed through her firm round cheek, making it clench like a vice.
‘AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!!! DON’T, PLEASE!!!!’
‘Don’t please...what?’ Deathstroke asked, mockingly waving the rod in front of Dinah’s face.
Dinah desperately wanted to say Please do’’t hurt me, but she made herself not utter a word.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
The touch was longer this time, tracing up her leg, over the muscles that turned to knots of agony as the power turned them against her, made her body her enemy.
‘GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!! NO NO NO!’
‘Are you afraid yet, Ms Lance?’ the Doctor said softly.
‘Oh GOD,’ Dinah moaned, tears running down her face. She felt the rubber gloves on her bloated breasts, shuddering and trying to pull away.
‘We can do things to you Dinah...terrible things.’
‘Please....YAAAAAAARRRRRRHHH!’ Dinah screamed as Deathstroke pushed the rod against her belly, turning her guts to roiling serpents that wanted to burrow their way out of her body. She shook like a rag doll as she convulsed. She was crying softly, her mind falling into a bottomless hole, her body shrieking until the awful current was taken away and she could suck in air like a drowning woman.
‘What is you greatest fear, Dinah...you need to tell us.’ But the bound heroine sobbed and shook her head, the long blonde falling across her face as she twitched in her chains.
‘What I always liked about latex gloves,’ the doctor mused, putting his hands back on Dinah’s full, quivering breasts, ‘ is that you can get a good grip with them.’ And he twisted her mammary globes around as far as they would go.
She gurgled in pain, her soft womans flesh wrenched in different directions, both of them painful. He pulled and twisted her C cup tits as she whimpered and wailed.
‘You were tortured before, weren’t you, Dinah,’ he said like a purring cat, and yanked on her nipples to make her yelp. ‘I don’t think you liked it, did you?’
‘Please... don’t make me...don’t.’ The memories were bubbling up in her mind like filth from an overflowing cistern, fouling her thoughts. The degradation – the days and days of pain when she could do nothing to save herself!
‘And now its happening again and you cant stop it...so powerless...we can do anything to you.’
Slade took his cue and reached for the chain that ran to the ropes around her breasts, pulling sharply. His enhanced strength easily lifted her off the floor, every bit of her weight being carried by the cords digging like barbed wire into her bulging blue-tinged tit flesh.
‘OH FUCK NOOOOO! AAAAAIEEEEEEEE! MAKE IT STOP!!’ She danced around with her wrists keeping her level as she wailed in the agony of breast suspension. Her boobs were ripping inside, she could feel it. The fat and meat of her woman’s chest was tearing, mutilated slowly but inevitably.
‘What was that?’ the doctor gasped, acting surprised. ‘Are you actually begging for mercy, Dinah? You sure about that?!’
Dinah shook her head, her tits feeling like they would burst open any second. ‘OH MY GOD!’ she howled. The tears from her eyes spilled down her chin and onto those tortured globes as her fishnet clad legs spasmed, making her tremble and adding to her awesome torment.
‘Do you know one of my all time favourite movie lines Dinah?’ the slender freak asked, as she sobbed pathetically, hating herself more than either of them. ‘It’s not the pain that breaks them...its the fear!’ He reached back, pulling out the short whip again.
‘SHUT THE FUCK UP AND PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME DOWN!’
The Doctor let her see the whip as she wept hopelessly. When it hit the engorged bag of meat on her chest, her howl was inhuman!
‘YAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!’
WHAP!
WACK!
Dinah’s vision was blurring over and her head seemed to spin. The pain was unbearable and all she could do was to scream and to scream. She could hear herself begging, pleading for them to stop hurting her, hear them laughing as her tits were being pounded like drums of agony.
She wanted to die, wanted Slade to put a bullet through her brain if only it would stop.
The next blow would be the one that killed her, she was sure of it. The next blow on her tits would end her misery and she would be blessed with the sweet mercy of death...but the next whipping of her breasts did not kill her. And neither the next.
Or the next.
Or the one after that. The agony just went on and on.
FWAP!
‘AAAIIIEEEEE! OH FUCK NO MORE!’
THWACK!
‘GAAAAA! NONONO…’
SSSSWAACK!
‘…NEEEEAAARRGGHH AAAAHA AHAARRRR!!!’
CRACK!
‘Did they rape you, Dinah,’ the Doctor was asking. She could still feel the whip hitting her as she pleaded, so she guessed Slade had taking over that part. ‘Did those men fuck you while you hung there being tortured?’
She felt his gloved finger parting her sex, exploring her as she suffered. She sobbed in misery. ‘OH PLEASE, no!’
‘I’ll bet you thought about it, didn’t you - what their cocks would feel like in you while you hung there like a helpless little slut all tied up. Not much of a super hero – just a cunt to be fucked.’
His finger was up inside her to the second knuckle, rubbing inside her sex as she shook in anguish. Something hot and sticky was running down from where the ropes were wrapped around her breasts. When she caught a glimpse of her monstrously distorted tits she could see her nipples split and bleeding and she wailed in anguish.
‘Or perhaps’ he said while ruthlessly probing her sex ‘did you offer them to rape you in order to avoid the pain. In order to postpone it for a few minutes, hm? Women tend to do that, I hear!’
Her head whipped around to face him, eyes full of hate. ‘You sick mother-FUCKER!’ Dinah spat.
‘Oops, I think I hit a soft button there!’ he giggled as he viciously grabbed her clit and pulled at it, actually pulling it out between the folds of her pussy. The curvaceous crime fighter gurgled and sobbed. Slade stopped his whipping, stepping back to let her mind dwell on her pain and weakness.
‘You need to ask nicely for us to let you down, Dinah’ the Doctor told her.
‘Please,’ she whimpered, ‘it hurts…so bad.’ The fear drug coursed through her like a rabid dog, tearing at her control. The mans’ hand was on her clitoris but it was her own unfettered, raging terror that left her feeling truly vulnerable. ‘Please…let…me down...please!’
He twirled her sex bud, thinking it over as she wept and bled and shook. ‘Sounds convincing to me!’ Slade said to the Crime Doctor.
He nodded, and Slade let her down slowly. Unable to support her own weight her legs folded and she dropped until her knees touched the floor. The Canary knelt weeping in relief, her whole body shaking with her sobs. Her shoulders shuddered and her face was twisted in anguish, her cheeks soaking wet from with tears.
‘You don’t want Slade to lift you again, do you Dinah?’
The thought was horrible. A small part of her mind wanted to tell them they were going to die, that she didn’t care what they did to her, but the drug had her tight in it feverish grip no, with only enough free will left to the blonde and bleeding heroine to let her squirm with self-loathing. ‘Oh please,’ she gasped, the words and pleading tone making her want to wretch, ‘no, no.’
‘Well then, said the Doctor, ‘I’m going to give you choice. I can get him to pull you up again, or you can ask me to use these again,’ and he held up the pair of hot oil rods.
Dinah sobbed louder and pulled away, her face in shock and terror. The fear in those gorgeous eyes was like a drug itself for the evil surgeon.
‘Oh fuck no...not that, please.’
‘Yes’ said the Doctor, ‘but it hurts less than the suspension’ He reached out and touched one of her bloated breasts, caressing it as she winced. The boob felt wonderfully firm under his fingers.
‘Please, I’ll do...’ she moaned, and she wanted to say ‘whatever you say,’ but the small part of her mind still her own bit down on the words, the struggle to keep them in a torture in itself.
‘No, Dinah, your not there yet’ the Doctor said understandingly. He looked at Slade, saw the same knowledge shining in his single eye. This one WAS special, maybe even a match for Wonder Woman herself. Who would have thought it, looking at the gaudy fishnets she cavorted about in. ‘So you have to choose.’
‘God!’ Dinah cried out in anguish and helpless frustration. She felt like vomiting. Fear clawed at her like a rancid animal. She thought of the pain in her tits from the ropes, knowing that they could be torn off her chest and she would see it happening. But the terrible heat...how could she choose between the ways they would mutilate and abuse her.
‘Choose,’ the Doctor said again. His cock was like an iron poker in his pants. He was a consummate professional and would abstain from fucking this petite bitch until the business was concluded, but on days like this he really loved his job! ‘I give you twenty more seconds to decide, Dinah. After that time elapsed, Slade will haul you back up, and I’ll burn your tits anyway!’
Time passed, and finally she spoke. ‘I...please...don’t pull me up...I want you to ...to burn me...please.’
Slade listened and felt a wave of exultation wash over him. He, too, was massively erect, the combination of physical beauty and incredible courage in the prisoner firing his blood. Almost any other of the Island’s invaders would have thrown her on the ground, straddled her, and raped her over and over. A woman like this was one in a thousand; no, a million, and he felt under his professional veneer a deep sense of jealousy that a man like Oliver Queen owned the heart of this lioness. The things he and Dinah Lance could have done together – the professional accomplishments, the adventures, the love-making for hours at a time, made Queen’s relationship with this woman seem a petty, wasteful thing. He knew after today there was not a chance in hell of him ever having her willingly, but at least he would have the consolation of knowing he would never have to know the utter soul-destroying hell of losing such a partner.
That was the fatal trap with true love, as Green Arrow was going to learn.
The Crime Doctor handed the rods to Slade, who took them and came over and knelt in front of the busty blonde heroine as she moaned and turned her head away. With a move he fired up the two flames, looking at her over the flickering yellow tongues. He wondered how long it would have taken to reduce her to this without the Scarecrow’s drug, or if would even be possible. It felt like a cheap victory, and Slade Wilson was never cheap. He promised himself after she had seen him cut off Oliver Queen’s head he would give Dinah Lance a true chance to show what she was made of.
‘You’re so sexy Dinah’ he said, like a man admiring a classic painting. Her head remained buried in her shoulder, sweat stained gold locks obscuring her face.
‘Oh no, Dinah,’ the Doctor was saying. ‘I want you look at what is happening to you...since you asked for it!’ He smiled wickedly at the sobbing victim, and Slade felt soiled just by being in the man’s presence. He would work with anyone on any job if the money was right, but there wasn’t enough cash in the world to make him enjoy this little freak’s company.
Canary coughed, her nose running as she watched Deathstroke upend the rods. Molten oil poised for a moment in midair before spilling onto her blood engorged tit globe.
The instant it touched her skin she yelped, the fiery kiss tearing at her mangled nerves as it ran over her skin, leaving a trail of blistered hurt. ‘AAAA...IT HURTS!’ Slade moved the rods, letting the oil trickle its way over the reddening skin, the liquid hissing as it caressed her breast with suffering. Dinah shook her head, her damp hair whipping around as the searing hot oil was dripped on boob-skin that was strained almost to the tearing point. She screamed again, louder, jerking in her bonds.
PSSSS PSSSSS SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS .
Oil was running down off her nipples, making them flare with agony. With her mouth open so wide she felt her jaw clicking she screamed silently and wondered if she said she would fuck them would it stop. NO NO NO NO, she wailed in her head, stamping on the thought, trying to kill it, but every drop of oil scorching its way over her bulging chest globes kept it alive.
Slade carefully saw to it that he slowly covered all of the upper half of her tit-globe with hot oil. He was methodical, watching as she jerked back and the ropes cut her tits, and then when she leaned forward the rods burned her over and over. She was bawling like a teenage girl, totally without shame. The white haired killer knew that now she truly understood there was nothing she could do...the terror of the ongoing torture choking her soul as her incredible body was made to suffer.
Dinah jerked on her knees, screaming like a crazy woman. She could not take more of this pain. It was so great, so terrible, eating into the flesh of her breasts and burning her alive, and no one would come and help her. She has taken enough now, hadn’t she? Fuck courage and dignity and pride - it HURT, hurt her in a way no woman should have to feel pain, and she did not want to die at the hands of these sadists. The gripping, chocking terror of them and what they would do to her crushed her like a python in its grip. She had a right for the pain to stop, didn’t she? She had been brave, stupidly brave, and every part of her body was in pain and her breasts were just things of agony stamped onto her body. She had EARNED the right to stop the pain!
‘PLEASE PLEASE NOW STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!’
Slade ignored her, letting the oil spill onto her nipples, bloated and purple, the crowns of her tits BURNING. Both men were watching and she knew they loved it, loved seeing her body spasm, loved making her wriggle like a whore for them.
‘Omigod stop it now I CANT TAKE ANYMORE!’
Psssssssssssssss….
AAAAAAEEEEEEEE!!!
Her mind felt like shattering under the onslaught, just like her body was feeling like coming apart, being ripped asunder by the awful agony searing through her breasts and all through her nervous system. Dinah squealed and sobbed, legs spread like a slut as she knelt, lost in the pain, lost in the fear!
‘TELL ME WHAT YOUR AFRAID OF!’ the Doctor shouted in her twisted face.
‘PPPPAAAAAAAAAINNNN!’ Dinah wailed. ‘I FEAR PAIN!’ she yelled at the top of her lungs as her burned and blistered tits heaved on her chest.
‘YOU’RE LYING!’
Her breasts were burning now, the heat soaked so deep into the fat and tissue it seared her heart and lungs inside her body. Slade let the rods dip and THE FLAMES TOUCHING HER FLESH AGAIN as Deathstroke kept pouring the oil over her nipples, spilling in a waterfall of agony onto her belly, searing down over her sex.
‘yaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!’
Psssss. Pssssss. Pssss.
‘WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY, YOU BASTARDS!’ she screamed.
The oil rod was travelling down towards her slit, leaving a line of pain as it went. Her breasts continued to pulse with anguish, like two pieces of burned meat slapped onto her body. The flame and the oil scorched her navel as Dinah blubbered and wailed, feeling it closing in on her womanhood’s soft petals.
They were going to burn her there! Burn her sex!
Burn her pussy!
BURN HER SOFT CUNT!
‘STOP IT...ALRIGHT!’ the blonde heroine , the words torn out of her like one of her organs being ripped savagely from her body.
‘I WAS GOING TO BREAK!!’
Dinah was howling out of control, panic and terror leaving her pride and dignity shredded. She didn’t care about her shame as she wailed and screamed, her voice a high pitched screech of agony.
‘I wanted the pain to stop!’ she howled as the candle brushed her cunt lips and she jerked, her body twisting and her burned blistered breasts dancing wildly.
‘I was going to tell him...tell him everything! DO ANYTHING HE WANTED!’
‘So,’ the Doctor mused, ‘that’s it. You fear the fact that you are not as tough and mean as you put yourself out to be. And Mr Queen…’
Dinah wept brokenly, totally lost. She slumped in her chains like a discarded puppet. ‘Ollie…he’d know…I’m weak. I’m - worthless!’
The Doctor smiled as Slade looked down at the miserably snivelling woman. The mercenary shook his head, silently vowing if anyone ever tried to use this drug on him, their death would make the Canary’s ordeal so far look mild in comparison.
‘Why did you not say so in the first place? We could have spared you some discomfort.’
Dinah shook her head, weeping openly. She had nothing left – no protection, no defences. They had stripped her truly naked, alone in the dark with no hope.
‘Slade, I think you should burn her pussy; just for good measure!’
Dinah’s head came up and her blue eyes bulged from her head as tears spilled down her face. ‘Oh GOD NO, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’
The Doctor chuckled as the flame neared the shrieking woman’s spread pussy lips. Dinah leaned back, trying to escape, screaming incoherently as she tried to wrench her bleeding wrists free her body arched and thrashed, all tight muscle and gorgeous tits. He felt his loins ready to burst at what her ripe, sexually charged physique would do when the flame began to sear those pink petals.
The Doctor turned towards the filming camera. He dipped his star shaped spectacles to look into the lens at the man who would be watching this tape of the love of his life slowly and sadistically destroyed, and then he jerked his thumb towards the sobbing naked beauty behind him, her curves covered in sweat, burns and blood. ‘Let see if we can break her AGAIN!’ he said with a wink.
Part xi
Birds of prey
Lady blackhawk
‘Mein Gott, this is boring,’ Nazi said, toeing the semi-conscious American with his boot. ‘Perhaps I should leave you to recover your strength?’ Despite his words, he picked her up by the remains of her flight top and moved forward so that he hammered her back into the wall, knocking her breath completely out of her.
Zinda hung there, looking down at him from behind her dishevelled gold locks. 'You sure got...a way...with girls...Fritz...aaaaaaaaaa!' She gasped softly as her long legs pushed to either side of his hips by him moving even closer to her, pressing his hard body against her own.
‘Amazing you haf your voice back so quickly,’ he said with surprise. ‘Though that is vat you Yankee women love to do, is it not? Talk? Vill you begin to regale me vith stories of apple pie and baseball next?’
She shook her head, trying to clear it. 'Yeah, I can tell you all about Babe Ruth. You’d have like him - he liked to...play with his balls too...' Summoning what little strength she had left she wrapped her booted legs around his waist and began to pressing him tight. She had crushed the kidneys of a German storm-trooper like that once, but now the only effect was to cause her more pain as she stained her aching muscles.
Damn - what will it take to slow down this freak...he’s like a frickin’ walking Panzer.
Zinda’s ribs were hurting her but she could see that her activity have a reaction on his face. She tried to bring her legs up between them to kick at him, but he leaned in and blocked the move. ‘More, more! Tighter!’ he ordered. ‘Show me your Aryan strength.’ He barked out the words with a sarcastic voice, then crushed his fist into her face. Her head snapped back and she tasted more of her own blood.
Using all her remaining strength, Zinda leaned back and got a leg up between their bodies. She felt the muscle in the back of her limb strain to tearing point as she sent it snapping it up straight, her heel catching him under the jaw and pushing his head back as she screamed in anger.
‘Try this strength, jack-booter!’
He moved back as an effect of the hit, but then stood his ground. ‘Come on bitch, I´m just varmed up,’ he scoffed at her.
She staggered forward, shifting her weight, then kicked out again, her boot driving into his stomach so he again bounced back. 'That’s for Dunkirk, asshole!' He licked his lips and she could see her blows only made him more angry, but Zinda never backed down from a fight. She spun about, her reverse kick landing along his jaw. 'And that’s for the Blitz.'
Nazi absorbed the impact, then he moved forward like a living wall. He caught her leg and slammed his elbow into her knee. She screamed, feeling the patella almost pushed backwards. She crumpled to the ground, unable to rise, clutching her leg and weeping angrily. She stared up at him defiantly.
‘Vill you never learn, bitch?’ he whispered, as with a single move he grabbed her leg and twisted it around.
Zinda managed a grim smile, ‘Guess not…AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRR!' She felt the muscles and ligament torn and her knee full of crippling pain that shot up her leg, so that it felt as if the shapely limb were being torn from her body. Her other leg came up to kick him but he also grabbed that appendage, so that he stood holding her legs spread open.
‘Are you prepared for the main event?’ he chortled.
The sexy pilot writhed back against the stone wall, breathing like a racehorse and looking at him with hatred. Returning her gaze, he could see her tight little panties peeking insolently from that ridiculously short black skirt. He smiled and rammed his boot between her spread legs while he held her by the ankles.
‘Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!’
Zinda tired to resist as her long legs were hauled apart, as far as they could stretch and then more, her thighs straining. She hadn’t spread her legs like that since cheerleading more than half a century previous, feeling the awful pulling as the joints were wrenched further and further. She glared at him in agony and defiance, unable to protect her private parts as he slowly pressed her boot against her cunny. The thin material of her underwear was pulled tight across her hidden treasure as his boot pressed into the yielding softness.
'GGGGGGGG...NNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!'
Rubbing her clit with his black boot, Nazi grinned down at her, lapping up the shocked and disgusted look on her face. Zinda could feel the pressure on her womanhood, driving the soft petals against her pelvis, his boot crushing her sweet button.
'God...DAMN...you!' she hissed, eyes closed tight as she struggled not to plead for him to stop. It hurt so much!
‘Yes, I am your god now, voman; and you´re damned for seeking to deny me,’ he replied maniacally.
Her hair fell about her face like tangles of gold as she squirmed on the floor, hands clasping his boot and trying uselessly to move it, lift it. Again, she tried to pull herself from his grip, letting go of his ankle and clawing at the stone with her gloved hands.
‘You are so beautiful like this, American whore. It sickens me thinking of vhat you are, but now that I am ready you vill at least serve the Fatherland in some small way.’
She could smell the grease of the storage area -this couldn’t happen to her - not on some damn dirty floor - it couldn’t! ‘RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRR! LET ME GO - DAMN YOU!' She thrashed and heaved powerfully, like a lioness in her rage.
‘Ja, you deserve some fun for your bravery,’ the fascist announced, and the top of his boot pressed at her barely concealed vagina, as if it were licking her like a tongue. Long legs spread, ass grinding the stone and breasts heaving and quaking under her jacket, she lay prostrate like a warrior goddess at bay. Zinda screamed again, feeling the obscene pressure on her little space, pain now mixed with unwanted arousal.
'STOP IT, YOU BASTARD! STOP IT!' She twisted up and with her face twisted with hatred spat full at him, the spittle spraying across the swastika on his chest.
‘Ah, here comes the juice,’ he said by way of reply. She let her head fall back, groaning as he rubbed his boots against her unprotected womanhood and slowly increased up the pressure, listening to her gasping with cracked ribs. Zinda moaned desperately, feeling the pain between her legs grow more and more horrible. 'Stop it!' she whispered tightly, teeth clenched, but there was a not of pleading her voice now.
Nazi could feel her soft woman flesh beneath his sole as he dug it painfully into her sex, eyeing the outline of lush breasts as she panted and moaned. ‘You not deserved any mercy, bitch,’ he snarled, and at the same time he twisted her ankles savagely.
‘AAAAAAAAAAA.’
The blond grabbed at his boot, but his strength mad hers insignificant. Nothing she could do could stop him crushing her sweetest flesh beneath his heel. Her long legs trembled in his grasp, spread wide before him. Then abruptly he stopped. Reaching down he grabbed her hair and pulling her to her feet. She screamed and punched at him but nothing her mortal strength could accomplish worked , as he hauled her up to stand before him. Her knees shivered but her eyes were filled with defiance.
Zinda grabbed his hand, trying to pull free, her sex aching from the punishing his boot had given. He focused her body, hate and lust mingled in his eyes. ‘Still vant to play eh?’ He moved slowly forward to give her no room to manoeuvre. She was pushed back to the wall; grimacing, cornered. Her own blue eyes were full of loathing as she saw him eyeing her hungrily. One had slammed her into the wall while the other one of them reached our and grabbed her skirt, to tear it away with one violent wrench.
'NO!'
‘So, I must stripping you in a sporting way.’ he muttered as he reached up and pulled her head back by her shimmering hair.
‘AAAAAARRRR!’ She gasped, her head almost pulled from her shoulders as his free hand dropped her skirt and then roamed across her body. Heedless of her attempt to strike him he let go of her hair and began to shred her leather top, black tunic tearing away to reveal a tight bra cupping her splendid bosom. The struggling American hung still in his grasp, feeling his hands on her formerly hidden flesh.
‘Hm this looks good as a target,’ the fascist smiled, and squeezed one of her breasts with his big gloved hands.
Lips pressed together and eyes closed, this time she did not even have her jacket between his hand and her breast. The powerful fingers were digging deep into pliant woman-meat, and it HURT!
‘Should I crushed your tits or enjoy them first?’ His cruel face came near hers and she turned away, disgusted. Her red lips parted as she gasped for breath. ‘Perhaps…a little bit of both, ja?’ he said, and squeezed his hand tight around the captive teat.
‘Oh GOD!’ she exclaimed, face a mask of pain as her breast was crushed in his grasp. The meat compressed awfully as if in a five pronged vice. He released his grip from her hair and his other hand moved at her other breast to do the same as before.
Zinda squirmed like a worm on a hook and the blood pounded in her ample chest as both his hands ground her tit meat. She felt like her breasts where crushed by steel claws, and then he lifted her up by her tits. Sobs echoed around the hanger room and her hands covered his, her long legs kicking as she furiously tried to free herself. The skin was stretched awfully as the mounds took her full weight of her tall body.
‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyygh!!!!’
‘How you feeling now?" he asked her, sexual arousal thick in his voice. Her only reply as feral growl of pain while her booted feet strained helplessly to find the floor.
The man called Albrecht basked in the feeling of her breast stretched to the limit inside the provocative wrapping of her straining brazier. ‘Should I stop tearing your tits apart?’ he asked her with mock sympathy. ‘Perhaps if you offer to spit upon that ridiculous flag vith its “Stars and Stripes”, eh?’
'Go climb your thumb,' she sobbed angrily. She gasped in helpless pain because every movement sent pain surging through her. She shuddered as her tight ass rubbed against his powerful erection as she hung by her tortured tit-mounds.
‘Climb this, bitch!’ he snarled, one of his legs coming up as he moved her down. He hammered her softened womanhood against his rising his knee without releasing the clawing grip around her breasts.
‘AAAAAAAAHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!’
Zinda’s legs were spasming as she writhed in his grasp, her effort tearing her chest balloons even more. Her battered fem-flesh filled with fresh anguish
‘Once more?’ He lifted her up and again crushed her down upon his knee.
She wailed pitifully and he released his grip and let her collapse down to the floor. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She clawed at the ground, sobbing, coughing, doubled over in agony with her perfect ass raised to him.
With an effort, she rolled and lay dry retching on her back as he stooped down ripped loose her bra. Her boobs jiggled like perfect bags of pink softness as the undergarment came away, the globes marked with the yellow and purple bruises of his brutal strength. She had no more defiant words, only her stubborn refusal to plead. She rolled again, seeking escape, and the cold stone pressed against the battered pillows of flesh.
‘Nothing more to say?’ he asked sarcastically to her and watched her crawling and struggling. She moved slowly, her face obscured by her dishevelled hair as she tried to crawl from him like a flogged bitch hound.
‘Ja, crawl mongrel whore; crawl for the glory of the Reich!’ Nazi followed her like a hungry wolf seeing his next meal.
Zinda pulled herself up to her knees, wheezing, blood trickling down her thighs. To add to her humiliation he kicked her in her butt. She went down and tried to rise again, her arms failing her so that she lay weeping on the floor. The stone marked her tits and belly as she lay broken before him, and the Aryan could feel his cock throbbing with lust at the sight of this cocky American whore humbled, bleeding, his for the taking.
The blond ace lay with eyes closed as her tits throbbed as if they would burst apart. His misuse of her nethers had left her sex swollen and bruised. Her lips were quivering as she sobbed, and when she again felt the toe of his boot exploring the slit between her legs, the feeling in her womanhood sent horrible tingles up the crack of her tight ass as she panted on the floor.
‘I´ve other moves in mind my dear,’ he chuckled, and then he seized her ankles and dragged her back towards him on her stomach . She screamed, her busted rib pushing into her body as she was dragged and her breasts rubbing against the coarse stone as he began to stretching her legs over her back like he was a wrestler.
Desperately Zinda pushed her hands against the floor, trying to lift herself, but the German swung around to sit on her back ,stretching her legs and secured them under his Armpits as he used all his leverage to force her back down.
‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!’
She felt her soft breasts crushed to the floor as her back was strained awfully. Her womanhood was still spread and her ass vulnerable and inviting, her long legs straining and shaking in his grip. She struggled, crying out as her exertions made her body grind harder against the stone under her while he could feel her movement where his crotch rested on the small of her back. Each time she struggled against his grip he drove her body down so her breasts and stomach was hardly rubbed against the ground. Her tits pounded harder and harder as the blood was forced into them.
‘GET OFF! AAAARRGGGHH!’
‘HA HA HA HA!!’
The battered woman felt her ankles slowly breaking, her good knee close to popping while the damaged one exploded in shards of white hot anguish. She wheezed as she lay breathing in the dust of the dirty hanger floor. She snarled and spat like a trapped lioness, glaring up him fro the corner of her bright blue eye. Her blonde hair was wild about her head.
‘Now I´ll be hearing your bones crack,’ he gloated, leaning backward slowly pushing her in the ground wither more and more pressure as she felt like her back was being broken, her spine close to breaking like a cheap bracelet. Zinda panted loudly as the pressure forced the air form her lungs and her swollen tits were compressed more and more. The pain was so bad it felt like they would burst like balloons.
‘AAAAAAAAAAARGH’
She screamed as her breasts where pushed totally flat and pressed to the ground. Tears spilled like fountains from her eyes. She struggled wildly to breathe, suffocating in agony.
Without a word, Nazi released her from his grip, standing up off her. He dropped her legs so they crashed down and she lay on the floor struggling in pain. Weak with suffering Zinda lay exhausted, to spent to move even to ease her pain in her limbs. Using only her elbows, she pushed up from her poor breasts and lay before the blonde haired madman like a broken doll.
Nazi stood basking in the power he felt over this stupid Amerikan harlot. He was ready now to complete her ultimate humiliation and his complete conquest of her. Spreading his own legs her bent down and grabbed the female around the hips, pulling her back towards him as with one hand he quickly released the fastenings on the front of his uniform pants.
Roused back to sudden life, Zinda fought back. She pushed back against him, succeeding only letting him feel her shapely ass against his crotch, then tried to pull away from his steely grip. When his erect phallus sprang free of his pants she could feel his cock as it swelled against her, engorged with passion from the beating he had dealt her, hard and pitiless. Zinda remembered the stories she heard during the war about women raped by the Nazi's, and how she swore it would never happen to her, that she would die first!
Her ribs were moving with a life of their own, and her spine was a line of pain. She felt the last shreds of her jacket tear away, his hands running wild over her skin. She pounded and gasped , shaking her head and struggling wit all that was in her.
But it was hopeless. Her breasts hurt her with every movement, her lungs was filled with pain at every breath she took. She panted in short, whimpering gasps while he smelled her blonde hair as it hung matted down her back.
‘Now my dear,’ he snickered. With a single tug he pulled the tattered panties away from her . Zinda cried out as her lips were split be the stretching fabric and she felt friction stinging her pussy.
Zinda groaned. 'Your...still a piece ...of shit...,' she whispered.
Albrecht released the grip he had and let her tumble against the wall, where she twisted slowly around so that now he could see her awesome figure her bloody breasts. Her body glowed with the sweat running down her supple curves. The bruises covering her, the scratches and cuts, all fired his already peaking libido while she knelt trying to cover her nudity.
Zinda paused, looking at him in defiance but also in fear. There was nothing to protect her now; no friends, no clothes, no illusions of being able to stop him. The reality of what was going to happed to her settled like a stone crushing her down. She blinked the tears away - he didn’t deserve to savour her tears.
Nazi looked at her and moved his hands forward to seize her again. There was nothing subtle in his manor – he came straight on, lust pushing away any pretence of sophistication in his assault. More from instinct than any belief it would do any good, Lady Blackhawk moved her arms high to grasp his hands, only feel herself double up as he pushed his right foot forward and crushed it into her stomach. She gagged, his foot pinning her back to the wall with her breasts trembling as she tried to breathe. Holding he immobilized with one foot he wrenched free of her grip and began beating her tits with his hands, swatting away her attempts to stop him. The blonde woman’s cries of pain and anger rang loudly in the hanger while her arms flailed around like a puppets, as he continued to beat her full breasts to a bloody pulp, laughing to feel those fleshy orbs spasm under his hands. Her flesh was like soft dough he could beat and mould at will, wonderfully full - soft but with enough resistance to let him know how hard to pummel them to make her cry out, and every punch made her scream aloud.
Zinda felt every strike as if he had fists of solid iron. Her tits were bloated and hurting, purple and yellow marks marring the skin and hot, sticky blood oozing from the broken surface. Her screams became louder, more shrill and desperate, as he pushed her to the limit of what even her stubborn will could withstand. Another women would have already passed out and have needed to be revived, and he smiled at her resilience. She would last a long time.
‘Should I enter your cunt, now ?’ he snarled at her while he watched her crawl. She could only drag herself across the floor, and his boot crushed into her stomach again and again, each kick pushing her along.
‘GGGGGGGGGG!’
‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!’
‘UNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!!!’
Zinda felt him looming over her, felt his hands on her, and it was like she was far from her body. The pain was the only thing keeping her aware, like chains binding her to bleeding flesh and broken bones. His rough hands forced her legs to spread, and she could felt his enormous erection as he rubbed against her stomach and down to her bleeding cunt. She turned her head away, so weak now she could not even raise her hands to fight him. She could only like there and let this be done to her.
Nazi’s prick went up and down against her slit, parting it with ironic gentleness. Then he grabbed her tits and mangled them with brutal force as at the same time he forced his cock slowly into her.
‘AAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!’
Zinda pushed her head back, gritting her teeth. The steel hard hands mauled her throbbing boobs as she could feel her channel parting for him inch by dry, bloody inch. He was in her, and he lifted her body up by her tits.
‘JA! You feel me, Amerikan whore? You feel my POWER?’
Her body hung helpless in the air only held by her pain engorged breasts while he felt her cunt enfolding him. He was conquering her soft woman-flesh with every grunting thrust.
‘Ungh…ungh…Raaaaaaaaaaaaargh God DAMN YOU…B....Bastard.’
H gained speed and pounded into her. Albrecht was in her fully now, his erection deep within her so that every move of his hips slammed into her gives her waves of pain and coital arousal. Zinda felt her cunt splitting in half while her boobs were crushed between his clawing fingers, slowly being ripped away from her body. His thrusts were moving her, slamming her against the wall and grinding her into the stone while she sobbed in helpless disgust. He pulled and twisted her tit globe in a grip so that she screamed in pain and his cock jerked and quivered in even greater arousal.
With her legs lying open he had full run of her cunny. She was tight, her pelvic bone against his. He slowed down again, wanting to take his time and rape her slowly, really make her feel it and suffer. With their faces inches apart he groaned at her, his cold eyes drinking in the sight of her lovely face dirtied and twisted in a grimace of shame and anger. Nazi rode her like a mare he needed to break, enjoying how the pain made her move her sexy bloodied body against his. More tears were coming from her blue eyes and he began to ram into her again and again, drawing his penis out of her slowly and then jamming the cock-head up to her cervix with quick terrible stabs of his fuck-shaft. She was being fucked beneath him, body and soul, and he could see her shaking with pain he was giving her, feel it in the blood from her pussy wetting his cock.
The German suddenly removed his huge cock, swollen like an iron pole and covered with blood and juice as she lay with her cunt lips hanging loose.
‘UNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN….’
Then he rammed his member into her like a freight train, shoving her body forward and letting the pain explode inside her again!
‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!’
Zinda felt her cervix buckling, felt her soft sweaty curves rubbing and bouncing against his hateful, powerful chest. And he was doing it again and again, driving his cock into her. She knew he could feel the warm and soft flesh of her pussy as it spasmed against his penis. She knew he was loving the mad dance of her breasts that were now just bloodied rubber balls.
‘NNNNOOOOOO…AAAARRHHHHH…UNNNNHHH…YAAAAAARRRRR!’
‘Hell waits for you, yank whore!’ He pounded into her as he moved his cock with all his power into her and felt that her pelvis grind and fracture. He was tearing her sex apart, about to rip her slowly two. He lifted her and crushed her back to the floor so that she felt more ribs cracking as her shoulder went slamming into the ground and her body was hoisted up. He growled in ecstasy as he felt his load coming fast as the blonde slut dangled under his attacks , helpless. Her screams became one long continuous wail as he went on, determined now to fuck her to death, to let her die as she felt his warm load erupt into her fuck-slit.
‘JJJJJJJJJJJJJJAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!’
Zinda of the Blackhawks howled as his sperm gushed into her pussy, driving by superhuman force with the power of a pressurized hose. Cum mixed with blood and spurted out of her cunt. Her body was about to burst open as she screamed! Screamed. Screamed!!!!!
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Part xii
Birds of Prey
Lady Blackhawk
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Both Lady Blackhawk and Captain Nazi snapped their head around to stare open mouthed at the blinding light that had erupted from the far wall of the chamber. The stone floor trembled with the thunderous noise of a portal, formed like a crackling tube of pure energy, thrusting out from the solid surface.
‘Vas ist!’ Nazi snarled, rising from the woman lying prone and bleeding under him, the fluids of her violation still dripping from his erect member. A figure moved in the light of the shimmering energy. The roar of the tube’s creation had faded away. ‘Whoever you are, you vill pay for this interruption vith your…’
Whatever price Nazi intended to name was lost in a high-pitched whine as a beam of light burst from the figures outstretched hand. From the floor, Zinda saw the ray transfix the posturing German, striking his broad chest and instantly emerging from his back to strike the stone work behind him in a burst of red-hot fragments.
Nazi staggered back, slumping against the blasted wall and staring down at the gaping cavity in his torso. Red and yellow energy crackled around the edge of a hole that went completely through a body that, moments before, had seemed indestructible.
‘…himmel…’ he said in an awe-struck whisper. Then he toppled lifeless to the floor beside his blonde victim.
Zinda pushed herself away from the smoking corpse, turning her eyes to the person stepping over to stand above her. Others were coming out of the glowing tube as well, but she had eyes only for the armoured giantess with the glowing metal rod that had dealt swift death to her rapist. Clad in gold and sable, her helmet was like a high tech version of an ancient Egyptian head-dress, framing a face that was both beautiful and somehow terrible. The eyes that stared down at the body of the dead villain held not the slightest compassion or regret.
‘The name is Barda,’ she said to the corpse. ‘Remember me in hell, filth.’
Her gaze drifted to the battered blond woman lying naked on the floor. The steel blue eyes did not flinch from the sight of Zinda’s ordeal, but they softened ever so slightly. ‘I am sorry we did not arrive sooner,’ she said matter-of-factly.
‘Makes…two of us,’ Zinda whispered, as darkness claimed her sight.
Elsewhere, nearby…
diana
Diana knelt on the floor of the stone chamber, the massive carven yoke circling her neck and her wrists were her arms were hoisted up on either side of her head.
The Princess’ hair fell half across the beautiful but drawn features of her face. She had again been clad in her armour, but this time her captors seemed to have no interest in maintaining the illusion she was in perfect health. Her tiara, real and not Savage’s fake this time, rested askew and did not fully confine her black hair. The red and blued costume was battered and torn. The crimson and gold of her bustier rent and ragged so that the flesh of her womanly charms were displayed amply, while the sheer star spangled crotch piece was so ragged that it barely concealed her femininity.
Diana did not try to rise, though every instinct in her screamed against kneeling in such a submissive fashion. Previous attempts had merely resulted in a painful burst of energy surging through the yoke, powerful enough to drive even her to her knees again amide a spasm of pain that left her barely conscious.
The superhero did not know now how long she had been in her captor’s power. Days certainly, but how many she could not say. The horrors piled one on top of another like a mound of stone burying her alive – rape upon rape, torture upon torture. Degradation and humiliation, drowning her in a cesspool of darkness.
She did not even here Savage approach. Suddenly he was simply there, standing over her with his hateful smile, filling her soul with rage. Diana snarled, her fists clenching as she struggled to keep a leash on her passionate desire to hurl herself at him.
‘Still unbroken,’ the bearded villain mused. ‘After all we have done to that body – you never cease to impress, Princess.’
Diana said nothing. Her festering anger choked her. All she could do was stare murderously as her enemy.
‘I give you this one last chance, Princess of the Amazons,’ Savage said, stroking his beard and staring down at her with laughter dancing in his dark eyes. ‘Give me the secrets of Purple Ray, or all that has gone before will seem but prelude.’
‘You seek the power to deal in death, villain,’ Diana snarled. Her blue eyes flashed like the lightning of Olympus, and her voice echoed the pitiless tones of the Erinyes, the Furies. ‘You have invaded my home, abused my people, tortured my friends and violated my sister. Loose me from these cowards shackles and I swear on the altar of Hades I will teach you and all you kind everything of death you will EVER need to know!’
Savage shook his head. ‘I thought you might say that, dear Diana. And since you want to bring your gods into things, you won’t mind if I even the field with some of my own.’
The darkness behind Savage stirred, and two bright red eyes suddenly pierced the shadows above his head. A figure loomed forwards into the light, as if the very stone wall of the chamber had taken on humanoid form and stepped forth. Towering over the immortal but nonetheless human villain, the dark and terrible being radiated an inescapable sense of power and menace beyond anything born of human flesh.
At his side another figure was clad in a loose purple cloak. Diminutive in comparison but barely less heart-stopping, his eyes fixed on the lovely prisoner kneeling before them with a light that was equal parts hunger, delight, and boundless cruelty.
‘We meet again, Princess of Women,’ the towering stone skinned being rumbled. The sound was like a landslide given voice – grating, relentless, and bereft of any conscience. The figure gestured with a black gloved hand to the being next to him. ‘DeSaad here has been endlessly disappointed that your previous time in our company was so short. I have generously assured him that this time he will have all the time he could wish to test your Amazon mettle.’ The giant’s red eyes flared as he stared down at Diana.
‘You should know,’ he growled, ‘Darkseid always honours his promises.’
Diana stared back at the two evil gods defiantly, Savage’s words echoing in her head.
The past will be but prelude…
Elsewhere still…
The two figures in the control room leaned forward, watching the scene unfold between the merciless Lord of Apokalips and the bravest and most beautiful woman on Earth.
‘Finally,’ said the taller one.
‘Yep,’ his colleague agreed, feet kicking above the floor as he squirmed in his chair with excitement. ‘This is going to be good!’
To be continued.
Wonder Woman
Hell in paradise
Volume vi
What has gone before.
Paradise Island, home of the immortal Amazons, has been invaded! The Amazons, their princess Diana [alias Wonder Woman] and a cadre of super-powered heroines have been captured by a small army of mercenaries led by some of the worlds deadliest super villains, including Vandal Savage and hired killer Deathstroke the Terminator.
While torturing the Amazons and heroines, the villains reveal part of their plan is to seized the secrets of the Amazon technology known as the Purple Ray. With the power to heal almost any injury, Savage pictures it being adapted to create an ultimate weapon. In the course of attempting to discover its secrets, Savage orchestrates the rape and/or torture of Diana’s super-powered friends and even her sister Donna Troy, while subjecting the beautiful Wonder Woman herself to a seemingly endless cycle of brutality and pain.
Two unknown figures oversee these proceedings from the shadows. These mystery villains have tried to get Barbara Gordon, secretly the computer expert supreme know as Oracle, to hack into the Amazon mainframe for the Purple Ray’s mysteries. Whether they know the truth behind Barbara’s own secret remains unclear.
Hope, however, springs eternal. A rescue party of heroines led by the New God Big Barda has arrived on the island in time to save the WWII female ace Lady Blackhawk from the clutches of the sadistic Captain Nazi.
Meanwhile, after a horrific session of torture at the hands of the Underworld ruler Neron and his demons failed to persuade Diana to help the villains, Savage handed her over to his seeming allies, the evil New God Darksied and his henchman, DeSaad.
(Please leave feedback to let me know how you feel. Thanks for everyone who has done so up until now and I hope the story continues to entertain and to improve - D.)
Part i
Diana
Diana lay again bound to the hideous table she remembered so vividly - the machine that still lurked at the edges of her nightmares.
Her arms were pinned to her sides by the manacles that she knew would resist even her gods-granted strength, designed as they were by gods themselves. Lying on her back staring up at the ceiling of the torture chamber, her memory replayed for her the last time she had been in this room. The pain like her bones being shattered into a thousand razor shards and grinding inside her body like knives, the humiliation of listening to the totally depraved being gloating over her suffering, begging his master for the chance to make her hurt even worse.
Diana’s skin crawled at the remembrance. She twisted on the technological slab, her movements hampered not just by the shackles on her wrists but by the one pinning her legs at the far end of the surface and the heavily circuited collar that banded her neck and kept her head pinned down, preventing her from using her shoulders for leverage. All the manacles hummed with electronic life, as if they were living extensions of the pain machine that hugged her to itself and waited eagerly to fulfil its only purpose.
The brave Amazon Princess was a breathtaking sight. Her red and gold armour was rent and torn, her long limbed body ached still from days of non-stop humiliation and pain. Robbed of any chance to grasp her tormentor her powerful fingers instead flexed gently in the restraints, as her mind lingered unwillingly on all of the foul device’s many cruelties. Within the curvaceous armor her ample, perfectly formed chest rose and fell in anticipation.
Not far away a figure in a loose purple robe fussed about, almost beside himself with excitement. The robe concealed everything of him except for his long fingered hands and his pointed, distinctly cruel face. Whenever his eyes drifted over to the colourfully garbed woman on the rack, a sinister light would glint in them.
The dark god DeSaad continued with his preparation, determined that for this victim everything be just right. The wait since he last had this female helpless in his grasp had been for him a kind of torment in itself, and he was now determined to repay her in kind, giving her time to dwell on just how bad her future at his mercy would be.
Diana closed her eyes, trying to calm her heartbeat, her breathing...searching for her innermost core of strength, which she knew in this place even such as she would not survive without.
Finally the hideous little torturer came over beside her, looking down at her like a master at a much loved pet.
'I have thought much about this encounter since last time, princess. I can only hope you have as well.' He smiled like a ghoul.
‘I don’t usually dwell on offal!` she spat out, feeling no need to exercise her usual diplomacy with this heartless monster. Too many innocents had suffered in his pain machines over the millennia for her to see him as anything remotely human.
For his part, DeSaad almost giggled. ‘Yes, yes,’ he hissed in satisfaction. ‘That is exactly what I was hoping for. The same fire, the same…resistance.’ He made the word somehow sexual in his excitement. He leaned closer, looking at her body - the marks of torment lingering across her arms, her thighs, her breasts and belly where her armour no longer covered her. 'Savage thought you might not be up to my ministration, but these mortals know so little of the ways of suffering - they are but children painting with their fingers, while I,’ he smiled like a hungry reptile. 'I shall make of you a masterpiece, little Princess.'
‘I shall make you a dead heap of rotten flesh god or no!’ Diana vowed, her body trembling with impotent rage in her bindings.
DeSaad reached out and touched her black hair, making her feel like vomiting. 'Let us waste no more time with words, then, my beautiful one,' the god of pain whispered. He lifted what looked like a pair of headphones to his skull, adjusting controls on the console next to the table. 'When you think of the secrets of the purple ray, the session will stop, he told her.
Then he pressed a button.
Diana had been prepared for pain, but not for the immediate agony that suddenly flooded over her like a flow of molten metal. Every nerve suddenly screamed, her powerful body going rigid in an instant as a gargling cry burst from her full lips. She convulsed, trying to find a rhythm to the agony pumped into her by the devices arranged around her twitching female form.
'Yessssssssssssssss' DeSaad gloated. 'No need for preamble with such as we, Amazon. That pain would have killed a mortal instantly, but I know your worth.'
Diana shuddered, breathing fast and hard as she roared with pain, her eyes snapped wide open, her body trashing against the unmovable bonds. Those blue orbs stared wildly at the roof overhead as if hoping to see some secret truth that would cancel out the anguish clawing at every bone and sinew.
‘Yes...yes. Just a little more, I think,’ the vile creature mused, watching her suffering with maddening glee. Diana felt the pain increase, like a drill boring into her skull and into her nervous system. She gave a tight clipped scream, her shoulders twisting as much as it could as her body shook harder, then settled again into fitful squirming.
‘AAA...GNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN...’
DeSaad watched his readouts, savouring the sight of the pain levels in the woman captive as much as a normal man would enjoy the movements of her delectable body. As always, he felt a surge of pride as well as pleasure when administering his agony on a defenceless victim. The pleasure of giving pain, and the pride in his mastery of the art of torture.
The woman’s resistance was incredible - few beings could endure the pain she felt now without submitting almost instantly. He doubted even the formidable Big Barda would have fought the agony more strongly. This was the opportunity of a millennium, and he intended to make the most of it.
'Now Amazon,' he moaned, practically drooling. ‘They say your kind do not fear death. Is that not so?'
‘We...do not!’ Diana managed to squeeze out of her trembling, tortured body. It felt like her ribs were being pulled out through her flesh. DeSaad smiled.
'You will.'
The arch-sadist adjusted a control. Diana felt new sensations flooding her through the haze of pain.
Looking up, she suddenly saw a set of what looked like vents or hoses above her body. She twisted, trying futilely to move away, enraged by the dark gods ever present smile. Then she heard a hiss, and saw a fine yellowish fluid spraying gently from the nozzles aimed at her. The drops settled over her in a misty rain from neck to toes.
And as they did, she heard the hissing increase.
With a shock she could not hid, Diana saw at once the remaining metal fastenings of her colourful costume beginning to smoke, then bubble softly. She gasped, her eyes widening further in shock and disbelief, but then squeezed them tight as the corrosive liquid found the gaps in the armour, the uncovered space on her arms, legs, and torso. Her lovely mouth widened in a soundless howl of pain. Her statuesque body jerked savagely as her smooth creamy skin started to blister and smoke as well.
The horror of it was almost as overwhelming as the pain, as her skin began to sizzle, and hiss…and BURN!
'AAAAAAAAAAARRRRHHHHHHHHHHH!’
The acid was eating through her armour, the costume starting to melt off and fall away from her womanly curves.
‘The ray,' DeSaad said, watching in glee.
Diana was so lost in her world of suffering that she did not realize the meaning of the words, barely having heard them in the first place. Not that DeSaad cared, really. He merely touched the button to release more mist. The droplets settled with hissing fury on her body and Diana screamed, feeling her exposed legs starting to peel, the skin begin to melt away like the rind of rotten fruit. As red blotches of exposed raw flesh appeared over her shapely limbs the blue crotch piece of her costume dissolved so that the sprays of acid were falling on her pussy hair. The black curls went up in tiny green flames.
She screamed, pulling her body up of the table and looking down - protected only by the star spangled cloth quickly burned away by the acid, her womanhood was burning! Now her sex was revealed, the pink lips smoking as the boiling as the liquid horror began to leak inside her.
Diana’s black-maned head flew back as she felt the agony of the spray eating its way deeper into her most sensitive pink flesh. Itching torment escalated rapidly to stinging agony that made her jerk powerfully, her thighs snapping tight like steel cables under the smouldering skin, even as her breast armour fell apart completely and her erect nipples started to blister.
Tears now freely flowed from the corner of her eyes into her full, black hair. As her teeth clenched and her torso twisted, horrible boils erupted up and down her body as she used all her willpower to stop from screaming. Glood oozing down from patches where the skin was dissolving down to blood vessels, down to the nerves imbedded in her sizzling flesh.
‘YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!’
‘Not much longer until your body is destroyed, princess!` DeSaad cackled. `Is it really that much, that we ask of you? Just a little bit of information!`
Diana shook her head, tear splashing from her face - the only part of her not being melted by the acid. One of the lips of her vulva started to peel back, the inner petals bleeding as they shrivelled. Her nipple oozed blood and the acid ate its way into her navel, her belly, as she squirmed in her own melted flesh. Diana could feel her body dissolve....DISSOLVE...under the acid rain and she felt her mind slowly, yet inexorably slipping towards madness. The pain and the sheer horror of her torture, to die like this without being able to fight back in any way; she screamed in abandon and her cries echoed off the walls as she felt the fluid burn through her breasts and into her lungs.
She arched her back and the bloodied flesh of her wrist and ankles smeared itself against the shackles like red paste as it was eaten away. The corrosive liquid scalded through to the muscle-tissue of her body and limbs. She was heaving and splashing in her own liquefied body as the synapses of her brain relayed wave after wave of unbearable torment. Kept hideously aware by DeSaad’s twisted genius, she felt the caustic flow dribbling down towards her cervix, tracing a line of hell into the centre of her feminine being.
‘YEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!’
Her heart and her clitoris began burning at the same moment as her pussy lips sloughed off between her thighs and her breasts fell away to revealed bleached bones. Blood filled her wide mouth as death claimed her with a final agonizing howl.
Only she didn’t die.
When she was aware enough again to think as a human being she was still alive...still bound to the table...still whole. The pain waiting for her was like a happy dog eager to greet her home, almost a pleasure compared to what she had just suffered. And yet, still ultimately pain. This was not a chance to rest, only a lull in a constant tempest. Diana groaned, panted, shaking sweat from her blue eyes.
‘That is one, Princess,’ DeSaad murmured. ‘I can kill you a hundred times in this room, or a thousand - each event more horrible than the last.’
Diana moaned, lifting her head to look at him. Any other woman would have been dead now, or insane, but the gorgeous Amazon showed her mettle once again. ‘You...will never...get...what you...want!’ she swore, shivering as the waves of pain rippled over her skin.
DeSaad looking into her eyes with gloating superiority. ‘Oh but I shall, little Amazon, I shall. Every time you refuse to surrender your secrets – and I get to do…THIS!’
DeSaad jabbed another button, and the screaming began again.
Part ii
starfire
Koriand’r was in a circular cell, about thirty feet wide and with two doors. She had been here since being transported by Warp from her cell, the villain using his powers to teleport her directly into her shackles. A single heavy metal beam ran across her shoulders and held her arms out to her sides, chains securing her there. Another set of manacles around her ankles were attached to metal poles. These rose up from the floor, holding her legs bent past right angles, her feet level with her head, so that she was supported three feet off the ground by her ankles and her arms and shoulders. Her long curling hair hung down almost to the floor as she swayed gently.
Water dripped from the ceiling, making her body shine under the white lights before it ran out a drain beneath her. Kori tried not to think how that drain could also carry away blood dripping to the floor.
The gold-skinned alien tested the strength of her shackles and the chains, and was not surprised to find out they would not give in to her struggles. She was completely defenceless. Her armour had been removed except for her arm braces and her metal boots. Normally she would have ignored the removal of her clothes - on Tamaran she had often gone nude, and had never understood the way earth women pretended to want to hide their bodies while taking pains ton highlight their charms. But here, in this dungeon, her nudity was an affront, an indignity visited upon her, and she desperately wished for some pieces of garment to cover her ample curves.
The doors slid open and men entered form either side. Through one door came the dark skinned Houngan, dressed in he wild finery that left his powerful chest bare. With him strode the slightly built and moustached Frenchman, Warp, in his gold apparel.
On the other came three equally sinister figures.
First came Psimon - the leering telepath with his brain visible through his transparent skull, its surface crackling with evil power. He was tall and lean, like a spectre as he paced silently. Next to him came the comically short Gizmo, his appearance belying his sinister genius for invention . And lumbering in last came Mammoth, eight feet of brawn in a skin tight black suit, sporting his new long hair and shaggy red beard.
Kori felt their eyes on her...their expressions varying from mild amusement, leering raunchiness, and downright hatred. She returned their stares with glares of her own, her fingers tingling with the ability to access her awesome starbolt powers still maddeningly out of reach.
‘Told ya she couldn’t escape.’ Gizmo gloated. The man Warp nodded in appreciation, his eyes travelling over the curve of Kori delightful ass while Mammoth frankly stared at her impressive chest, nostrils snorting.
‘Then we are prepared to begin our experiment,’ Houngan said with a humourless smile.
Mammoth chuckled, and the black voodoo technician shot Psimon a questioning look.
‘He thought you said ‘sex-periment,’’ the telepath sighed.
Kori felt her stomach tighten with a queasy sensation, a feeling that had started when those fiends entered the cell and had increased from there on with each passing second. But she said nothing, only regarded them with a cold expression.
‘No words of defiance, ma petit,’ Warp laughed, moving his fingers over her arm. The battle honed muscles flexed under his fingers. ‘Will you not tell us how we will suffer for our crimes sometime soon.’ He let his hand rove down over her breast, flicking her nipple playfully.
Kori watched with contempt, then suddenly lunged at him with an animal snarl so fierce that the Frenchman leapt back, falling to the floor in surprise. Mammoth’s laughter boomed around the room as the Brotherhood member pulled himself up to greet Starfire’s superior smirk.
It seems Starfire is living up to the second part of her name.’ Good,’ said Psimon. Mammoth still chuckled, as his gaze remained on Kori´s magnificent breasts. He just couldn’t seem to get enough of the sight of her bronze-skinned globes with those unearthly red nipples enthroned upon them. ‘Let me give her some good punches and she’ll be seeing stars!’ the giant leered, trying to contribute to the metaphoric conversation.
‘Now now,’ said Psimon, ‘there will be time enough for that later.’ He nodded to Gizmo, who came forward and floated upwards on his jet pack, taking his time to enjoy the view of naked flesh as she moved up to eye level with the alien princess. Reaching out he pulled back her hair, while she watched through slitted eyes, and attached a round device to her neck near the base of her skull, then checked come readouts on a wrist monitor. He nodded to Psimon to indicate all was working, the floated back out of the way.
‘We have some wonderful new methods of extracting information thanks to some help form another Princess; Wonder Woman to be exact.’
‘Wonder Woman would never help you filth,’ Kori said confidently.
‘You shall judge soon enough,’ Psimon replied. ‘But first we need to establish a baseline for our tests.’
‘Tests? On what?’ Kori scoffed.
‘Pain’ said Psimon with a smile.
‘Yeah, paaain!’ Mammoth rumbled, licking his lips. Psimon took a step back and raised his hand, gesturing, a Kori felt a pressure in her mind. She met his gaze without flinching, but her body tensed at the invasion.
‘The water is helping enhance signal quality across her body surface,’ Gizmo said, eyes flicking from the dials to Kori’s spectacular nudity. ‘Am sending signal…now.’
‘Houngan, we can proceed when you are ready.’ Psimon said with relish.
The black man reached our and produced the voodoo fetish that he had tressed with a lock of Kori’s hair. The Tamaranian woman tried to swallow, yet her mouth seemed completely dry. She looked at the innocuous doll, knowing the techno shaman could use it to produce any sensation in the body of his target.
Houngan smiled at his captive, then focused his attention to the voodoo-doll in Kori’s likeness he was holding. Knowing full well what was to come she pulled at the chains, angry to be so helpless. Do your worst, scum, she thought, suddenly seeing Psimon’s smile grow wider.
‘Trust me, princess. I will!’ Houngan said, pulling out the first of his needles.
Her breathing got faster, her head moving as she shook the water from her eyes. He pushed the needle against the dolls stomach...slowly, ever so slowly pushing the tip against the puppet’s belly - then letting it sink into the doll. Kori looked at the doll with the needle with anxiety, teeth set. The other men fidgeted with eagerness for the fun to start.
.
Houngan smiled at her, then whispered one word: ‘Hunger’.
She felt it suddenly. Kori felt her stomach contracting into a hard ball of hellish torment; she was starving, starving as if she hadn’t eaten in days. Sudden cramps made her mouth twist and a little moan escaped. Her head dipped slightly, her belly contracting and her taught belly twitching.
‘Remarkable,’ Houngan mused. ‘A human would be sobbing like a small child in mere seconds from this!’
‘It’s the solar energy her body stores,’ Gizmo asserted, his eyes flitting from his readouts to the gorgeous girls undulating midriff. The action of her abdominal muscles made her fantastic breasts move in a way that was wholly arousing.
Houngan nodded, and then he pushed the needle deeper and whispered again. ‘Starvation’, he said, grinning evilly.
‘Be careful you do not truly kill her, mon ami,’ Warp said, as Koriand’r shuddered, feeling her stomach collapsing. She gasped, the sensation like being hit in the midriff with a steel pole and then being slowly crushed beneath it. Her breathing came in long, exhausted pants. The techno-mage smiled, watching her suffering. ‘Don´t worry too much,’ the man with the doll said to the Frenchman. ‘She’s a sturdy one. If you are worried about her now, what will you say in a few minutes?’ Both men chuckled.
‘Are you hungry, princess?’ Psimon inquired politely. His dark eyes were fixed on the girls navel as it moved spasmodically. The chains rattled as she trembled.
‘Only...for your blood,’ the alien beauty spat back.
Houngan pulled out the needle and sighed in satisfaction. He always enjoyed using his powers, but this was somehow more rewarding than usual. Starfire slouched, feeling the sensation of gnawing hunger subside, but already Houngan was making an adjustment, ready to begin again. This time the needle approached the dolls left breast.
Starfire felt the anticipation in Psimon’s own mind as he nested in hers like a rat seeking a den. Behind him, Mammoth was practically drooling with sick pleasure.
The needle pushed against the doll’s chest, then embedded itself right in the centre of the left side. Houngan smiled into Kori’s blazing, green eyes, then opened his mouth. She forced herself not to look at either the black man or her tit as the water spilled over her rich bronze curves.
‘Crush!’ Houngan whispered.
The female Titan’s mouth pressed tight as the feeling of horrible compression slammed into her fulsome chest. The left side of her chest filled with the pain of being crushed between two hideous weights. She jerked, her breasts dancing as she pulled back, trying to tear herself free of a vice that only existed in her mind but was horribly real in its anguish.
‘NNNNNNNN!’
Psimon hissed as she sucked in a breath. ‘Scream for us and I just may stop this!’ Houngan gloated. Kori opened her eyes and looked instead at Psimon, but shook her head.
‘Stop...what? she asked, trying to look impassive.
Houngan pulled the needle away, only to ram it back into the puppet’s left breast and bark ‘Fire!’
Kori was already preparing to take a breath when her tit suddenly erupted in the agony of being set ablaze. ‘GAAAAAAAAAA!’ Her scream was choked out, the cry cut short as she arched her back as far as it would go!
‘Boobies are dancin’ now,’ Mammoth laughed. The giant licked his lips repeatedly, his cock growing in frightening proportions while watching the otherworld princess suffering.
Starfire threw her head to the side, her wild auburn hair covering her face but not hiding the depths of her suffering form Gizmos scanner or Psimon’s mind touch. Houngan too watched her suffering through slit eyes, simply savouring the feeling of dominating the proud warrior beauty through pain. Her body shook and trembled, her muscles quaking as she kept back her scream. She fought for air, legs moving so that the slit between her legs parted gently as she struggled with more and more desperation
Finally Houngan pulled the needle out of her and pursed his lips as he beheld her body slump down in its chains.
‘AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaa…’ Kori whispered, the sound like a sexy sigh to the men watching.
‘And you worried about her starving to death, mon ami?’ the black mystic mockingly asked Warp. The Frenchman laughed, and Houngan pushed the needle into the doll’s throat and whispered softly.
Koriand’r was gathering her strength and resolve as she hung panting, but instantly her eyes grew wide as she felt the air cut off from her lungs. She struggled, mouth open wide as she tried to suck in oxygen, but her throat was paralysed. Sounds of frenzied gasping came from her full mouth.
‘Look at her suck’ Mammoth smiled. Houngan laughed and leisurely tossed the doll to the ground, the needle still embedded in the effigy’s throat. He stood before the trembling Koriand’r, his arms crossed on his broad brown chest. ‘Why don’t you beg me to pick the doll up and remove the needle, alien?’ he asked, acidly.
Even through the increasing desperation of asphyxiation she stared at him, mouth curling in hate briefly before she again panted futilely. Her vision was blurring and her fists balled sporadically. The young woman’s magnificent body heaved with the breath she could not take, while Houngan merely stood there, observing her suffering, calm to the fact that his victim was choking to death.
Then, with maddening leisure and slowness, he bent down and picked the doll up. Kori had to fight hard to keep herself from begging, despite very fibre of her being wanting to plead for her life. She told herself they wanted her alive, pitting her will against her animal instinct to save herself.
Houngan knew that even Starfire’s stamina could not take much more of this before she would die...so he slowly removed the needle from the doll. The smiling, gloating villains watched happily as she gasped loudly, her twin breast heaving like mountains as she drew in life giving air.
But the voodoo disciple’s blood was up and he did not intend to give her reprieve to speak off. Instead, he pushed the needle into her right breast, the one he had not tortured, yet. ‘Flayed!’ he commanded, and Kori gulping down sweet air again was forced to grit her teeth and moan like a whore, feeling the sensation of the orange flesh peeling from the orb on her chest. The pain was incredible, worse than anything she had fest since she had been captured by her sister, Blackfire, and tortured on the
Citadel home world for her evil pleasure.
‘GGGGGNNNNNNNNNNRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!! OH XHAL!’
This time rather than remove the pain giving probe, Houngan picked up a second needle and pushed into her right breast, as well. He filled her mind with the reality that the flaying was complete; that her breast was now a skinless ball of open flesh and nerve-endings, hanging on her chest as raw air set fire to her bleeding tit meat.
‘FUCK YOU!’ the Titan shrieked. Her arms and shoulders twisted in her suspension and spittle flew from her screaming mouth as she rose and plunged, boobs moving erotically with her gyrations.
‘Torn’ he snarled
.
“AAAAAAAA..AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!’ Starfire screamed as her body moved like a demented puppet, pulling this way and that as she writhed in pain. Her torso shuddered to the motion of imaginary claws tearing her tit to pieces. She wailed brokenly as her marvellous torso humped the air before the watching torturers.
‘You see,’ Houngan grinned at the Frenchman. ‘It did not take all that much to make this off-world whore scream!’
Kori sobbed in agony as she felt her tit being destroyed, the fat falling away as the talons tore it from her sliver by bloody sliver. Psimon grinned like a ghoul in front of her, panting in delight at what he felt in her tortured mind. Houngan pushed a third needle into her left breast, breathing heavily himself. ‘Ripped…slowly!’ he hissed.
And she felt it, felt the sphere of meat starting to turn tighter and tighter, cupped in the grasp of some infinitely cruel fist, the flesh reaching the maximum point of tension and beyond. Twisting, the perfect skin starting slowly to tear, to rip. The watching men seemed now to simply wanted to break Kori utterly, wanted to see her mad with pain. She spasmed against the chains, throwing herself like a wild animal against her bonds, cutting her skin for real as she bucked like a desperate mare.
‘That’s it, you bronze-skinned whore! scream for us! Dance for us! Dance the dance of pain!’ Houngan growled hoarsely. He picked up a fourth needle...his hand trembling slightly with the ecstasy of inflicting agony on the powerfully erotic woman in chains. Kori’s screams were coming as continuous shrieks of pain now, with Psimon almost beside himself with pleasure. In her mind the mentalist could feel him bathing in the waters of her suffering, laving in it.
Houngan paused, moving his hips as his own massive erection strained against the tightness of his costume and dark flashing eyes riveted on the bronze petals pouting between the girl’s quivering thighs. Then he pushed the needle into the puppet...right between the dolls spread legs.
Psimon’s mouth opened in delight as he saw what Kori saw in her mind, the vision of torture she was consumed by. The alien girl howled, her brain flooded with the horror of it.
‘GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH. NOOOOO STOP STOP IT!!!!’
The negro watched Kori trashing in her bonds....pushing the needle deep into the dolls ‘genitals’. Tears spilled down the aliens gorgeous face as she screamed again and again. He didn’t whisper this time, he projected the images into Kori’s mind and nervous-system mutely – a steel tube, eleven inches long and one inch wide, with sharp spikes at it’s flat top as it fucked her twenty three year old cunt-shaft.
In her mind Kori clutched at her pussy while Psimon stood over her, eyes shining with lust. Her pussy lips bleed as the metal invader gouged past them, stretching her so wide she could feel her sex tearing. The spikes ramming against her cervix, each time the tube pushed into her while the spikes tore at the silken lining of her cunny.
‘OH FUCK NOOOO! AAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE’
WHUMP!!!! WHUMP!!!! WHUMP!!! WHUMP!!!!
In her mind the tube halted its terrible invasion, deeply embedded in her cunt. The spikes protruding all around the tube’s surface were digging into the soft moist flesh of her sex-tunnel, and Kori screamed over and over, feeling her womanly slit being shredded, her pussy torn to ribbons of meat. The men saw her thighs spasming as if she were fucking an invisible monster.
She screamed louder and louder, rising up in her bonds, with her tits shaking and pussy soaked with sweat and sweeter juices. Behind the bronzed folds of her labia the deeper hued petals of her fuck-flesh were pulsing, the muscles of her abdomen working manically. Lost to reason, her sensual mouth gave voice to wild incoherent shrieks of animal pain before she finally collapsed, her brain shutting down to avoid complete madness.
The men stood silent, each one panting with perspiration running down their faces. Warp licked his lips as he looked at the woman hanging legs spread in front of him, and Houngan was grinning like a demon as he sucked in air. Mammoth’s teeth were set, nostrils flaring as he stared at Starfire’s naked body with his hands worked by his side.
Psimon managed to tear himself away from the sight of the lithesome wench and glanced over at Gizmo, still studying his readouts. The little man looked up and smiled.
interlude
Lady Blackhawk & co.
‘Y’all are from the future?’
Zinda lay on the rough litter that had been created for her, dressed under the rough cloth blanket in the torn remains of her Lady Blackhawk uniform. The shredded outfit barely held together on her and concealed even less of her maidenly charms than usual, but the act of having it on made was like an affirmation of her survival, of her ability to live beyond the late Captain Nazi’s…
She shuddered inwardly. Rape. He raped me. Say it – deal with it. It happened. Move on.
Zinda looked at the women gathered around her. There were seven, some of whom she recognized, some that she didn’t. Some that she thought she should have. That was the most disturbing.
The blond calling herself Wondergirl was standing next to the door of the room they had set up base in. She was a little shorter than Zinda, wearing a sullied red T-shirt with a gold eagle chest design and tight fitting, heavily ripped blue jeans. With her was another blond girl with long straight hair. Her clothing consisted of a top that stopped well short of her navel and a skirt that made Zinda’s own look positively prudish. The red boots and cape and the crimson ‘S’ on her chest boldly proclaimed her identity as the cousin of Superman himself, but the hardness in her blue eyes belied the family bond.
Barda was standing in her sable and gold armour, seven feet of toned female fury – literally. The former leader of Darksied’s all female fighting elite still held the mega-rod that she had used to blast a hole through the body of the vile German supervillain. Zinda knew that most of the superheroes of this modern era took a dim view of killing, but she had fought in real war and held no illusions about its necessities. Apparently neither did Barda.
‘We are from a time some fourteen months from this point,’ the black clad warrior woman said matter-of-factly.
Zinda took in the state of their clothes – even Supergirl’s cape showed a few rips and frays, and the women had the same look the pilot had seen on the faces of resistance fighters in occupied France, used to being constantly on the run and only a few steps ahead of the enemy. ‘I take it things ain’t going so well, huh?’
Wondergirl looked away. Barda remained impassive. Mostly.
‘In our present – your future – Vandal Savage has succeeded in conquering most of the land mass of your planet. His forces have killed almost all of the superhero population, and ruthlessly hunt those few of us who have escaped his purge. The world governments, curse their snivelling hides, agreed to unconditional surrender to Savage’s demands after he had defeated the Justice League and publicly executed their last remaining member.’
Wondergirl clenched her fist on the wall so hard than pieces of rock cracked off and fell to the floor. Her eyes were misty.
‘Diana,’ she said hoarsely.
Zinda stared at them aghast, trying to fathom the sheer horror of it. ‘But, come on…everyone? Batman? Superman!?
It was Supergirl’s turn to grow angry. ‘The purple death ray changed everything. It had the power to kill anything.’ Her eyes burned red with sudden heat. ‘Even Kal.’
‘How,’ Zinda began, swallowing hard, ‘how did they get it?’ She looked at the girl in jeans. ‘Sorry, your name…’
‘Cassandra Sandsmark,’ the girl said. She looked to be just over eighteen. ‘I took over as Wondergirl after Diana’s sister Donna gave up the name.’ Zinda nodded comprhendingly, remembering Oracle mentioning something like that in her sessions to help the temporally displaced WW2 pilot adjust to the new century. ‘We can’t be absolutely certain,’ the blond Wondergirl said grimly, ‘except that it was shortly after they seized Themyscria. The villains used, or are using, a temporal displacement field around the island that isolates it from the rest of the world. While time is passing normally for us inside, since the attack mere nano-seconds have elapsed beyond the field boundary. Once they possessed the Amazon tech, the villains had time to perfect their weaponry and then deploy it ruthlessly and with complete surprise when the time field was deactivated.’
‘And by that time, almost everyone they had captured was dead,’ Barda added. ‘There was no opportunity to gather exact information.’
‘So how did you travel back here, then?’ Zinda asked.
‘My mother box,’ the towering black helmeted woman said, showing Zinda the small rectangular device fixed to her arm. It appeared inert. ‘Opening a portal in time is beyond its normal functions, but we were able to modify it to key in on the energy signature of the villains’ time field.’
‘Time travel.’ Zinda shook her head. ‘Thought my case was something special. Can you do that again if we need to?’
‘No,’ Barda replied flatly. ‘My husband, Scott - Mister Miracle - calibrated the mother box and linked it to his own to boost the power. Almost all the energy of both boxes was required. Barely enough remained to heal your injuries’
Zinda did indeed feel her strength returning, slowly. ‘Swell. So is your hubbie here now as well?’
Once again, the uneasy silence. Barda’s eyes were cold as sapphires. ‘We were discovered too soon. Scott was force to provide a distraction while we made the jump. He was…left behind.’
Supergirl looked up at the woman from Apokalypse. ‘He may have escaped,’ she said comfortingly.
‘It is irrelevant,’ Barda commented, almost convincingly. ‘If we are successful here the timeline will be altered and those events expunged.’ Her eyes grew even harder. ‘And we will succeed.’
Zinda felt able to stand, and put weight on her legs. It was amazing, given the pounding she had taken. Cassie gave her a hand getting to her feet as she steadied herself against the wall. ‘So these gals are with you then?’ she asked, nodding at the other occupants of the room.
There were three of them, all women, sitting in the far corner and talking amongst themselves. One was black with blonde hair, dressed in a form hugging body suit that left her shoulders bare and displayed some generous cleavage. It was styled in black and grey – now heavily patched like all her companions clothes except Supergirl’s. On one side of her was a tall woman, almost as tall as Barda herself. Like Barda, too, she was muscular, but while the New Goddess radiated a sense of focussed, disciplined danger this woman seemed like a bear on a leash. She had wild red hair and what looked like an earring through her nose, and sharply angled tattoos down her left arm that not unlike the ones Zinda had seen on islander men in her days flying missions against the Emperor Hirohito’s forces in the Pacific.
Which brought her to the third member of the little group. Dressed unashamedly in a red body suit with a flaring yellow rayed sun across the chest, the Japanese girl silently polished the sword she carried and which Zinda remembered was called a Katana – as apparently was the girl herself. Her black hair was cut shoulder length and hid most of her face, and though her dark eyes behind the red mask she wore never wandered over to the blonde pilot Zinda had the distinct impression she was measuring her up, along with everything else in the room.
‘Thunder,’ Barda said, pointing at the dark girl. ‘Grace,’ she nodded to the red head, ‘and Katana. All members of the Outsiders. Among the few to last against Savage’s attack. Like all of us, they have much to avenge.’
‘So let’s get on with it, then,’ the woman Grace muttered, standing up and facing Barda eye to eye. ‘We hit them, take down the time whatever, call for the cavalry and hand these fuckers their asses.’
‘They have hostages,’ Zinda said, testing her ability to stand. She was shaky but thought she could manage. ‘Civilians.’
‘Girl, you wanna know how many civilians Savage killed when he hit the JLA?’ Grace fired back. ‘Not to mention Washington, London and Beijing?’
‘We don’t sacrifice the hostages,’ Cassie said, staring hard at the towering Outsider. ‘Any of them. That’s not the Amazon way.’
‘The Amazon way died screaming strapped to the torture machine Professor Ivo made out of the Eiffel tower, while the rest of the world had to watch on holographic feeds.’ Grace snapped. ‘Do you remember how many days it took Wonder Woman to die, girl – or the heroes that were killed, or captured and executed, trying to rescue her. Do you remember the sounds she made while they had her chained up naked and were torturing her to death?’
Wondergirl’s eyes flared and she took a step forward, fist clenched, but Kara held her as the Japanese girl Katana stepped between the two. ‘All of us remember, Grace,’ she said. Her voice was musical but steely. The red head calmed a little, and Katana turned to Cassie. ‘But it is not just a matter of the lives of those on this island, but of the entire world. This plan cannot go forward.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Diana would agree, yes?’
Cassie breathed out slowly. ‘Yes,’ she said finally.
‘Okay, so let’s get this ball rolling,’ Zinda said into the silence that followed. ‘What’s first?’
Barda looked at Supergirl, who nodded and stared hard at the wall, panning her gaze around the room. Her blue eyes took on a slightly luminous quality. ‘I can see some of the villains and the hostages, but there are other areas that seem to be shielded somehow.’ She grimaced. ‘I can’t see any of the hero captives, or Savage.’
‘The time field machine,’ Barda asked.
Supergirl stared for moment longer then shook her blond head in frustration.
‘Looks like we’ll have to scout the old fashioned way, then,’ Grace huffed.
‘Maybe we’ll get lucky and find some more creeps like Nazi off by themselves and they can tell us where to look,’ Thunder said.
‘Sound,’ Barda commented, and looked annoyed. ‘I should not have killed Nazi as I did when we arrived.’
‘No one here blames you, under the circumstances,’ Supergirl said to the battle goddess.
Barda raised an eyebrow as the turned to the teenager. ‘I meant I should not have killed him so quickly.’ Supergirl opened her mouth, then quickly closed it again.
Katana was shifting uneasily, also studying the walls. Her clear tension spread to Lady Blackhawk, and the pilot lowered her voice as she spoke. ‘Hey, didn’t you gals say these SOB’s were safe inside their time field.’
Barda nodded.
‘Well, if they know think no-one can get in, why go to the trouble of hiding where they have this doohicky of theirs is stashed?’
The silence grew more tangible around them. ‘They might have it hidden against an escape attempt by one of the captives,’ Thunder mused.
‘Or, Barda began…
The far wall of the chamber suddenly blasted inwards. Katana dived for cover behind Thunder, as miraculously rocks and debris bounced harmlessly off her slender black frame. Barda shielded Zinda with her armoured form, Grace and Wondergirl braced themselves as slabs of rock the size of footballs buffeted them back.
But the most dramatic effect was displayed by Supergirl. As the blast wave struck her the supposedly invulnerable teen was lifted off her feet and catapulted back into the wall, falling like a broken puppet next to Zinda. The gorgeous ace stared at the caped girl in shock as she noticed the debris seemed strewn with pieces of glowing green fragments.
‘…they know we’re here.’ Barda completed her sentence, as a group of over a dozen costumed figures stepped through the dust cloud, led by Deathstoke the Terminator. He tossed aside the still smoking shoulder launcher he had used on the wall and drew his sword. The heroines formed up around the moaning Supergirl, faces set grimly.
‘Hello ladies,’ Deathstroke said, and they could hear the smile in his words behind the black and orange mask. The villains behind him were grinning like ghouls. ‘Welcome to the party. There’s always room for more.’
After a long hiatus, I thought I might try to finish the story. Hope you enjoy ;)
Power Girl
“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”
Moon and the Crime Doctor watched the blonde Power Girl screaming brokenly. Her naked body trembled as sweat dripped down in small rivers over the curves of her flesh.
Karen was currently fully stretched upon a large metal while, six feet in diameter, strapped naked to the outside hub. It was suspended above the stone floor of the chamber, hanging by large chains that were attacked the axle around which it could pivot. Manacles circled her wrists and ankles, chained together to keep her arms and legs extended straight out hugging the curved of the wheel.
Normally this would have posed no problem at all – the heroines Kryptonian strength could tear free of the chains with barely a thought. But the sadistic villains controlling the torture had linked Karen’s manacles to metal collars locked around the throats of two gagged Amazons bound spreadeagled on either side of the circle of metal, one with long dark hair and the other with curling brown tresses. The bondage was diabolically simple – if Karen used her strength to free herself, she would decapitate one or both of the prisoners.
Karen shifted slightly on the hub. The curve was sharp enough that her back was bent painfully to keep in contact with the metal, but if she allowed herself to relax the increased tension on the chain instantly began choking the Amazons. Her lower back throbbed with the discomfort of having held her position for so long. Her blonde hair was matted to her head with sweat, while her position with her shoulders and head angled back over the curve of the wheel thrust her already prominent breasts into bold highlight.
That, however, was the least of her worries.
An iron bench sat directly below her. It was made of metal, like the device she was shackled to. Also made of metal were the wicked inch long spikes protruding from the outside surface.
Karen breathed in sharply as the wheel lifted up, rolling her head down over the top of the curve and bringing her into eye level with the men hurting her. She blinked sweat out of her eyes, only to have more immediately run down as her head hung backwards over the hub under her. She sucked in air, trying to ignore the chuckles of the sick torturers watching her full breasts jiggle slightly as she did so.
“You’re doing very well, my dear,” Moon said to her. “Of course, if you want to stop, you could just tear loose of those chains and kill us both.”
Karen said nothing, gritting her teeth in frustration.
“I don’t think she wants to talk to us, Moon,” the star-spectacled Crime Doctor said in a hurt voice. “That’s very rude, you know,” he went on, leaning into Karen’s field of vision. She imagined his head vaporizing under the slightest touch of her heat vision, but the sensors built into the walls of the room would respond to any such action by setting off explosives in several chambers throughout the complex, killing dozens of hostages.
The Crime Doctor moved to where the curly haired Amazon hung beside Karen’s outstretched arms. She had to watch the scene upside down as she craned her head back over the wheel. The bound woman glared at him. “You think it’s rude too, don’t you miss?” he asked the Amazon. She said nothing, just continued staring at him.
Abruptly the masked sadists booted foot swung back, then up, kicking the helpless woman between the legs.
There was a meaty thunk and the captive gurgled into her gag. Without waiting he kicked her again, his boot slamming toe first into the soft mound of her sex. Her stifled cry was louder, more desperate. His foot swung back again.
“Stop!”
The Crime Doctor paused and looked over at her. “Is there something you want to say, Powerless Girl?” he asked politely.
Karen breathed deeply, forcing herself to say the words. “I want to keep going,” she said softly.
Moon stood looking down at her and shook his head. “You must be more precise, my dear,” he said with a fatherly smile that made her stomach turn.
“I want to keep going with the torture,” she said icily. She wanted to add “you fucking degenerate pig” but knew that the Amazons would only suffer for her temper.
“Yes, that is good,” Moon told her. He reached out and touched her breasts. She wanted to scream but didn’t. “Your invulnerability is such a gift. A normal woman would have been mutilated by now, but you remain physically perfect.” His finger circled one of her nipples. “And ready for more pain.” He patted her tit affectionately. “How lucky you must feel.”
Karen said nothing, only flexing her fingers in their restraints.
The wheel turned, moving her head first back down towards the floor. Inch by inch she approached the bench with its protruding spikes.
The blond fought to control her breathing. The spikes could not wound her, could not penetrate her Kryptonian skin. But the neural stimulator the degenerate scientists has used on her meant that the receptors in her skin that transmitted sensations of touch to her brain were now thousands of times more sensitive. The spikes could not damage her, but they could hurt her.
Karen knew how badly they could hurt her. The last hour had taught her that.
As the Crime Doctor worked the medieval style machine her scalp came into contact with the points. It was like railway spikes were being pushed into her skull. She moaned, then gave a sobbing gasp as she was pushed round further, the cruel metal points gouging bloodlessly over her head and then down towards her eyes. Some of the iron fixtures bent as her super-dense body was forced over them, but the vile torturers had a ready supply of replacements on hand that could be bolted to the bench to repair the damage.
The turning continued, and she felt the points raking across her face. The neural enhancer made it feel like she was being whipped around the eyes, the nose, her cheeks and mouth. The stinging pain was horrible, and she moaned as her the points finally nudged past her chin. For a brief moment she was free of new pain and the spikes failed to reach up to her throat, but she knew was coming.
Her breasts.
She never said so, but Karen was proud of her breasts. She knew they were the source of millions of fantasies, thousands of photo-shop fakes. Sometimes they meant she was not taken seriously, but all in all she enjoyed having them and the unique power they possessed.
But Moon and the Crime Doctor had taken that and made it into a curse. They enjoyed her breasts as well, but their pleasure was in making them hurt, making her suffer as they were hit and hammered and burned.
As the pliant globes reached the spikes, Karen twisted her head back, trying to flatten herself impossibly, trying to get even a little less pain.
The metal points indented her tit-flesh, sending signals to her brain. Signals amplified by the unholy technology working on her. That took the gently feel of the spikes rubbing against her impenetrable alien skin, and made it into dozens of power-drills boring into her flesh.
She screamed.
The Crime Doctor allowed himself a little chuckle at the sound of womanly pain. He felt himself hard in his pants just at the quality of the scream, its mixed texture of outrage and misery. His hands on the controls of the wheel pulled back an inch or so, rubbing the blond heroines boobs back over the spikes, then pushed forward again. Back and forth, back and forth, grinding tit-meat over the sharpened points.
The screaming was wonderful.
At the front of the wheel Moon also was beside himself with sadistic pleasure, watching the two perfectly formed mounds of woman-flesh scraping against the hedge of metal thorns and drinking in the accompanying shrieks of pain. It would have been even better had the spikes been lacerating the skin, actually tearing into those soft bags of fat, but there was something to be said for being able to do this over and over for hours without the fainting from blood loss. Even more satisfying was the way Power Girl’s muscles rippled and flexed along her arms and legs as the pain hammered at her mind. The urge to tear herself free from the torture machine must have been incredible, but the stupid girl kept used her willpower to keep herself in place, keep herself in pain, rather than sacrifice the hostages chained to her. The pleasure of being able to turn her ridiculous moral code on her to make her blubber in agony was almost as much to do with the erection in his pants as the sight of her curvaceous body covered in pain sweat.
The wheel creaked as it moved, each metallic squeak punctuated with a female cry.
Karen panted, trying to keep her breathing shallow and not add to her misery by forcing her own breasts harder onto the barbs under her. She was shaking so hard she could feel the heavy metal contraption vibrating, and tried to stop herself. With her strength she could easily tear the whole vile machine to pieces, killing her two fellow prisoners as she did.
The wheel paused a moment, angled slightly back so that her boobs were pushed forward by the frame of studs. To Karen it felt like a beast from Kryptonian nightmare was pushing dagger-like claws into her tits from below and then peeling them off her chest inch by inch. The matching globes rose up under her chin, nipples stiff with sensation. She kept her lips pressed tightly together, but she could stop neither the hateful little whimpers nor the tears sliding down from her narrowed blue eyes.
A pudgy hand wrapped itself in her damp hair and pulled her head up further.
“You are so absurd,” Moon told her. His spectacles glinted coldly, mirroring the inhumanity behind them. “You have strength to stop your pain, but you hang her and moan like a whore to save others.”
Karen took a breath, grunting at the torment of it. “…sick…fuck…” she whispered.
“You are the sick one,” he smiled back. “Your laughable heroism is a disease, girl. A mental disease.” He reached down and touched her right breast, pushing his fingers against it. The flexible boob bulged slightly, expanding against the spikes.
“Oh Rao!” Karen burst out, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. The claws of the beast that her mind imagined were pulling her breast apart from the inside. She felt the agony of the skin bursting into red tatters. On the wheel behind her toes pointed straight up to the ceiling, every muscle in her legs visible as her body clenched.
“You want to kill me,” Moon said softly.
Karen said nothing, only suffered wordlessly. Moon noticed the Amazon women looking at him with murder in their eyes. So satisfying.
“Say it, girl,” Moon told her. ”I want to hear you say the words.” He nodded at his companion. “Help her, my friend.”
“With pleasure,” the Crime Doctor replied. He reached over and moved a lever on a post behind him down.
Instantly, the torture wheel dropped two inches.
“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!”
Power Girl’s scream was raw, primal agony. The pain in her breasts was beyond imagining. She was being impaled and flayed alive at the same time. One of the points drove deep into a nipple, filling her mind with horror. She wailed, her arms flexing instinctively as the trapped Amazons choked and gurgled.
Karen didn’t even try to stop the tears. She didn’t care any more that they saw her bawling like a child - the pain was too much. Every part of her wanted to tear the sick torture machine apart and be free of the pain but she couldn’t. She forced herself to relax her arms, knowing that even a twitch while she was in this much agony cold tear the hostages heads from their shoulders.
The wheel moved, dragging her fulsome breasts forward over the spikes. Karen’s scream was a horrifying combination of primal anguish and racking sobs. It continued as she was winched up, her sternum and belly moving over the metal tips that felt like they were gutting her.
Finally she stopped at eye level with Moon. He looked at her, watching how her tits moved as she panted. Her blonde thatched pussy was directly above the spike, just pressing gently against them but even that was painful for her.
“You want to kill me, but you don’t,” Moon told her.
Karen made no answer, just gulped in air. She closed her eyes, trying to forget the pain.
“You let us hurt you. Torture you.” He leaned closer. “Because you are weak.”
The blonde heroine’s head dropped. Tears ran down her cheeks and splashed in her incredible tits.
“You hate yourself for your weakness,” Moon told her. “You hate these women for making you weak. For making you suffer.”
Karen mustered what little strength she had and brought her eyes up to look at him. “I hate you!” she snarled.
“But not enough,” he smiled, and nodded to the Crime Doctor at the winch.
Karen heard a switch being thrown, and felt heat between her legs. She smelled the odour of iron being heated, like the carbon tang of frying pan left empty over an active stove-top.
“You could end this with a flick of you fingers,” Moon reminded her, still smiling. She looked at him with unmasked disgust, but said nothing.
The wheel lowered again, pressing her pussy against the spikes.
The red hot spikes.
Karen screamed and screamed. Her sex was twisted inside out and burned at the same time. She was being impaled on blistering metal spears, stabbing up into her womanhood. She shook in her chains, and the vibration of her cunt against the grate made the pain worse.
“GAAAAAAAAAAAAA – AAAA aaaaaaaAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!”
Moon and the Crime Doctor watched her incredible tits expand, and then heard her scream again and again. She howled and wailed, lips pulled back and face twisted in horror. Her fingers were spread, toes pointed, her whole body tight as a violin string as she screamed her heart out. Her boobs shook in front of her, shiny with perspiration.
Karen felt her control slipping. At any moment she would loose it, kill the women chained to her.
“MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE…PLEASE!!!!!!”
“You are a weak cunt,” the Crime Doctor said from behind her. “Say it.”
The agony was white hot in her pussy. Karen blubbered piteously, knowing she had no choice now. The pain was right against her clit, inside her pussy lips. She was going to kill the hostages and there was nothing else she could do to stop it. “YES – I’M A WEAK CUNT. I’M A WEAK CUNT. PLEASE!!’
The wheel rose a few inches, enough to lift her sex off the spikes. Karen almost fainted with relief, but hung moaning and weeping.
“That is good, Power Girl,” Moon told her. “Very good. I am sure there will be many people who enjoy hearing the recording of your admission.”
She heard both sadists walk across the room, and a door open and then close.
Karen let her head fall forward as she cried brokenly.
PART IV
ZATANNA
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/e/ee/Zatanna-hughes.png
Zatanna didn’t know how long she had been chained in the dark room. It might have been days, or even weeks. There were no windows, was clock to keep track of time. There were only two ways she was sure that any sort of interval had passed. One was when they came into the room and injected her with a syringe which they told her was sustaining her body in lieu of eating and drinking. They never removed the gag from her mouth at any time, knowing that if she were able to speak for even a few seconds their sick little scheme would be undone. Her power to alter reality with her magic was virtually limitless, but she need to vocalize her thoughts in order for it to work, saying the words backwards in accordance with the strange mystical rules that governed her power.
The other way she knew time was passing was by the number of times they had raped her.
Zatanna’s clothes hung off her in tatters – torn fishnet stockings and a bow tie hanging askew around her throat, and her magician’s coat with tails ragged and torn in places – one sleeve was completely gone. The waistcoat she usually wore was also gone, and her white shirt was grimed and open to the waist, revealing her full breasts in the scant remains of her black lace bra. Below the waist her black leather thigh high boots were still in place, but her panties had been ripped off and tossed into the corner, leaving her womanhood was easily accessible to the animals who came to rut in her.
The female hero’s long dark hair was dishevelled and matted, and she could feel the slight prickle between her legs that told her that the hairs of her pudenda were starting to grow back past the usual slender black line that she allowed above her cleft of her sex. She supposed that must mean she had been her at least several days.
Her bondage was a simple affair. She lay on a metal table some three feet off the floor and about four feet wide. It was long enough for her head and body to rest on it, but her legs hung down at the knees over the lower corners. Lengths of polymer cord around her ankles were tied to the tables central support to keep her legs spread, while an identical cord went around both her wrists where her arms were pulled up over her head to hang – elbows bent - down over the top edge. With her arms drawn up her c-cup breasts were pulled higher and fuller, which the mystic heroine knew was intentional, while her belly was flattened down between her sternum and the soft mound of her sex.
Zatanna moved in her bondage, trying to ignore the chafing around her wrists. One of her white gloves was still on but it gave her no comfort against the pull of the cords. Her thighs ached as well from being kept stretched apart for days [weeks?] but even more from the merciless pounding she had received between her splayed legs.
Tears welled up in the girls blue eyes, despite her best efforts. The pain of what they had done to her was matched only by the brutal humiliation of it. The rapes had been systematic and delibertate in their cruelty, with sometimes as many as half a dozen men present in the room. Zatanna had quickly learned that those times would be the worst – not just because with so many men eager to fuck her the session would last for much longer, but also because the men waiting for the chance to push their cocks into her snatch would amuse themselves in other ways.
Some were happy simply to stroke their dicks while they watched her moving to the forced rythym of their comrade, but others liked to play, and often play cruelly. If she was lucky they would only rub their dicks against her breasts or her face, or slap their members against her while they called her a whore. Some of them forced their stiff cocks into her hand, squeezing her fingers around them and making her stroke the penis for them. She had tried once to grab the offending dick and twist if off, but all she accomplished was a gagged scream of pain when the angry man had seized one of her fingers and yanked it back at right angles to the back of her hand, then shoved it forward again. When he pushed his cock back into her palm, she allowed him to wrap her slender fingers around it and give him what he wanted.
But some just liked to hurt her.
They would slap her breasts, or pinch and twist them. Some bit them, clamping the soft smooth skin between their teeth and gnawing on it while she shuddered and moaned. A couple liked to use her tits as punching bags, slamming their fists into them while she gagged. One time they had been with her together and had spent an hour pummelling her chest globes until she passed out, only to wake later with her breasts so swollen they were like throbbing beach balls on her chest, and she howled hopelessly when the first man of the day used them for handholds for leverage as he raped her.
They spat on her, came on her. Sometimes they slapped her pussy before they fucked it, or during, to get her to move more.
She didn’t know how often her cunt had been filled with the rapist’s foul semen. After a while they had started flushing her pussy out with a saltwater solution. The abrasions from the men’s forced use of her burned like fire when the brine washed over them and she had jerked so hard with her curved and sexy body that the man flushing her would always rape her again straight away when he was done.
Zatanna felt her will close to crumbling. The endless cycle of rape eroded her spirit despite her efforts to resist. She considered escape plans, but none of them were viable. She clung to the belief that rescue would come, but after days of suffering she now doubted there would be any release, short of death.
Sometimes she wished they would kill her.
The door hissed open, and Zatanna felt herself trembling. She fought desperately not to wonder at what was coming this time – one man, or a group? Simple forced sex, or something more twisted. She tried to control her breathing, to focus on her training with the Justice League. There was a way to escape this horror. There had to be.
A single set of footfalls sounded as the door closed. One man was crossing the room towards here. Only one. She could handle what one would do to her. She would endure it, and survive until help came. It was only one man.
He stepped up to the table and looked down at her. Zatanna’s eyes widened, and she forgot how to breathe.
“Hello, Zatanna.”
She looked up at him, mind reeling with horror. His black bodysuit had a faint sheen to it, but there was nothing reflective in the eyes set into the bearded face. They studied her with a kind of glee, but it was a cold, dark pleasure, totally devoid of any human empathy. Looking into those eyes as they gloated over her helplessness, Zatanna felt herself trembling uncontrollably.
Dr Light leaned over her and smiled wider. “I know,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to start, either.”
Part V
Diana
“Oh man – just look at her,”
Diana felt herself coming back to awareness as if she were rising from a pit filled with razors towards the light above. It was not a return to consciousness – she never lost consciousness. She was always awake, always in touch with the horrific pain that DeSaad’s machines pushed into her. But it was an ability to comprehend something besides the endless mind-tearing agony.
She felt her limbs moving, and her fingers opening slowly. Her body felt numb, but that was only the absence of pain.
Her vision was blurred but she could make out three figures sitting above her. She dimly realised that that made no sense – people sitting should be lower than her. The confusion became more acute when she realised her toes were not touching the ground and she was hanging in space.
“Fuck that’s sweet,” another voice said. “Look at the bitch.”
A third voice spoke. “I’ve dreamed so seeing something like this for years.”
Diana moved, ignoring the sounds of approval from the voices – male voices, she was now sure. She concentrated, making herself more aware of her surroundings. Her arms were raised, and by the pressure in her wrists and shoulders she deduced she was hanging supported by them. Her feet and legs were apart too, meaning she was spread-eagled. Her head seemed heavy, telling her she was angled back slightly. Her skin felt cold.
She was naked.
Diana didn’t remember how long DeSaad had tortured her, or how many times he had ‘killed’ her in his machine. The details of her experience were like a festering diseased wound in her mind. She remembered flashes of dozens of executions, each one excruciating. She had been burned, her skin and then the meat underneath roasted off her while the fat of her body melted. She had been cut to pieces bit by bit as her blood ran down in little streams onto the floor. She had been impaled, crushed, and slowly torn apart while she screamed and screamed, and then died only to find herself ready to undergo some new nightmare of suffering.
She remembered the screaming, so loudly it felt like her throat were burst. She recalled the tears spilling from her eyes, the shame she felt as they ran down over her face. Not just because of the endless pain, but because of the horror of knowing that it would go on and on, never ending until her mind and soul were destroyed.
Diana slowly lifted her head, secretly savouring the lack of agony. She moved her limbs as she felt some strength returning to them, flexing her muscles.
“Yeah whore – move for us.”
The comment in a thick male voice brought a chorus of chuckles. Diana squinted upwards, taking stock of her surroundings. The room reminded her of a hospitals operating theatre, with a windowed gallery overhead. Behind the glass looking down at her crucifixion were a trio of men she began to recognize. Sonar, the old foe of the Green Lantern smiling and sipping wine from a glass with his gold cape swept back over her shoulders. To his left Heatwave with his trimmed goatee and yellow tinted goggles, the love of fire never far from his eyes. And lastly beyond him the Electrocutioner, smiling wickedly in his black mask that covered his whole head down to just above his mouth.
Diana wet her lips, trying to find her strength. Her body ached and throbbed as if she had been torn apart and sewn back together, which was hardly far from the truth. She tried not to think about the idea of the torture starting again at any moment. Even hanging nude for the pleasure of these demented creatures was preferable to being hurled back into the nightmare world of endless pain.
Diana blinked suddenly that thought. Once that kind of thinking would have been an anathema to her.
They were breaking her. Slowly, but they were wearing her down. The realization both angered and horrified her. She could not let these monsters break her spirit. But even as she fought to shore up her resolve the numbing, hideous thought of suffering endlessly in DeSaad’s torture machines made her blood run cold.
“You see,” came the torture gods voice. Just hearing it made Diana shiver. “The neural scans were correct. Her defiance is crumbling. Her resistance is incredible, but it is crumbling at last.”
Diana looked across and saw DeSaad standing next to Vandal Savage. The latter looked pleased, stroking his beard as he also regarded Diana’s nude form. As always DeSaad had no apparent interest in her nakedness. He saw all flesh simply as a means to enjoy the torment of others.
Savage came over and stood looking up at her. Though Diana did not know it, she was in the same room that Huntress had so recently occupied.
“Is it true, Dear Princess,” he asked her politely. “Are you finally going to surrender to us?”
Diana breathed deeply, ignoring the murmurs of appreciation from those watching her full, rounded breasts. “You will never get…anything you want from me, Savage,” she said slowly. “No matter how badly you torture me. I will fight you til me last breath.”
Savage narrowed his eyes and studied her like a specimen in a jar. “You know Princess, I don’t think I believe you.” He smiled. “I’m not even sure you believe you.”
Diana felt her anger smouldering to life again. Her body strained instinctively against the bondage.
“Oh jeez,” Electocutioner panted. He was watching the way the muscles of the Amazons perfectly toned body moved under her skin, the way her almost 6 foot frame radiated both power and raw sexuality in its spread-eagled state. His hand moved to the bulge in his pants that was mirrored in the crotch of all of the three villains. “C’mon Savage, I wanna see that hurtin’!”
“Fuck yes,” agreed Heatwave.
“Is that what you want, Princess?” Savage asked. He made no effort to hide his own appreciation of the way Diana’s hips moved as she twisted gently in her shackles. The thigh muscles on either side of her naked, black furred pussy flexed arousingly. “Do you want us to hurt you some more.”
Diana simply stared down at him with cold eyes.
There was a hum behind her and Diana’s eyes snapped up. A trio of mechanical probes was moving down around her head, each tipped with a six inch gleaming steel needle that came down to a diamond sharp point. The light’s of the room reflected in sharp lines off the metal spikes as they took position around the top of Diana’s skull.
“You know DeSaad’s torture machines can make you feel any pain, Amazon,” Savage was telling her. Diana’s fists clenched in acknowledgement of the truth of his words. “But for this session, your physical suffering is not our main objective.”
The three scum watching her chuckled, clearly not in agreement.
The chuckling stopped with a steel claw emerged from the backs of the chairs they were sitting in and darted forward, latching onto the backs of their heads like a mechanical serpent.
The men screamed. The claws had four jointed articulators that grasped their sides and tops of their heads in an iron grip. Each man went rigid, their eyes bulging and bodies convulsing hideously. Their screams were gargled, paralysed sounds of anguish.
Diana watched impassively as the men shook, unable to feel any much compassion for them. Finally they slumped forward, breathing deeply. The Amazon was fairly sure Electrocutioner was trying to hide the fact he was sobbing.
“What…What the FUCK WAS THAT!” Heatwave stammered at last.
“A necessary step in the procedure,” Savage assured the men. He in no way seemed apologetic. “Each of you now has a neural implant connected to the base of your brain. We find that direct contact is a much more efficient method for this than scanning remotely.”
“You put probes in our brain?” Sonar gasped.
“This wasn’t part of any deal, Savage,” Electrocutioner growled.
“No,” Savage agreed. “The probes will allow transmission of your neural stimulation to our lovely captive, here.” He gestured to Diana.
“Huh?” Heatwave muttered.
“She’s going to read our thoughts,” Electrocutioner said angrily.
Savage raised an eyebrow.
“Hey, just because I’m mainly muscle doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two,” Electrocutioner said. “Especially when it comes to electricity.”
“A fair point,” Savage conceded. “But not entirely accurate. The Amazon will not be able to read your thoughts per se – she will, however, be able receive your thoughts about her and to sense your emotional state.” He turned a smiled up at Diana.
“Whatever you hope to gain by this, you will fail, Savage,” Diana said flatly.
“And if merely hope to see you suffer, dear Princess,” Savage asked. Diana gave him no answer, simply flexing her powerful muscles once again.
“We begin, then,” Savage said. He turned back to the villains. “Now gentlemen, think of what you would like to do to Wonder Woman. She is helpless, your defenceless captive. You can do anything you wish to her.” He smiled. “Be creative.”
The three men smiled, each privately imagining such a scenario. As they did, the metal skewers positioned around Diana’s head moved closer. Diana felt an unpleasant tingle running along her scalp.
“So there is nothing more to this than your sadistic amusement, Savage,” Diana spat.
“Perhaps I wish to see how you handle the truth of these men’s feelings towards you,” he said with a shrug. “You do value the truth, do you not?”
“The truth is when I am free you will not be feeling so immortal,” Diana sneered.
“Of course,” he agreed condescendingly.
Diana made to say more, but then…
“The pain hit her without build up or warning. Thousands of volts of electricity were suddenly travelling along her nervous system, tearing at her from the inside out. She stiffened, biting back a scream. She could feel herself shaking in the shackles holding her as her muscles spasmed. After the initial shock she steeled herself, riding the pain. It was not as bad as DeSaad’s torture machines, and she knew that she could handle it.
Almost immediately, though, there was something else. Something new. As the pain washed through her and her body moved to its searing touch, there was a wave of pleasure. Not her own pleasure – Diana was keenly aware of her own anger at being bound and hurt. It was the knowledge of another person’s happiness; someone who was enjoying seeing this happen to her.
“Oh yeah,” Electrocutioner murmured.
Diana gasped despite herself. In her mind she could see herself as he saw her – sexy, powerful, twisting in pain under his electric touch. His hands rested on her naked belly, blasting current into her body. He saw her moaning, tears forming in her eyes. He watched her breasts shaking, eyes drinking in their dance as she trembled.
The pleasure of it for him was like a maggot, worming its way into her brain. He hated her, hated her power, but he also wanted her. She felt his need to subdue and humiliate her, to make her squirm for him. Lust twisted in his own belly and travelled down into his groin as he thought of hurting her and then saw his thoughts made real.
Diana felt sick. Her stomach churned with the sudden desire to throw up.
Before she could empty her belly though, pain hit her again. She felt flames running up and down her body, lapping over her like living napalm. Her blessing from the Goddess Hestia seemed to have no affect on this fire. She felt the heat fully as it burned across her legs, up her arms, around her back and over her breasts.
In his mind Heatwave saw her tied to a stake, her arms pulled high over her head. Thick logs burned at her feet, roasting them as she struggled to escape. He stood in front of her, trembling with pleasure as he raised his hands.
The flames responded, leaping up again and running over her nude form. Diana shuddered and moaned in pain as they seared her skin. The fire turned her nerves to red tinged agony. She hauled at her bonds desperately, frantic to get away from the torturing heat. She felt tears running down her cheeks as small sounds of anguish were squeezed from her. And again there was the vile joy her brought to the act, the love of making her suffer.
The scene shifted - she was naked on the floor, stone cool under her hands and legs. She was on all fours, but there were a pair of black booted feet in front of her. She started to rise…
Her head exploded!
Diana cried out, falling back to her knees. Her skull was vibrating inside her head, filling her mind with pain. The shockwaves rippled out across her body, boring bone deep into her. Her heatr spasmed in her chest as it was forced to beat our of rhythm, pushing blood through her veins in fits and starts. Her ears bled as sound like a knife cut into her.
“You can hear, bitch.” She heard Sonar’s voice telling her, and only then realised that the sound had stopped. She lay with the floor cool against her breasts she sucked in air, panting with relief even as another part of her mind was screaming in agony as the skin over her backside was burning away and electricity arced between and through her breasts. “Your tough skin is no defence against my power.” Diana could feel the sick smile in his face as he spoke, the satisfaction. “I can get inside you and twist you apart.”
The sound smashed into her again, and Diana didn’t care that she was screaming anymore. Her scream was drowned out anyway in the white pain shredding her mind. She squirmed on the floor, trying to find some relief from the pain, trying to find a way to fight back.
Back on the torture slab of Electrocutioner’s mind Diana looked up at him as he touched her nipples, making his current jump from one to the other. He twisted them between his fingers and thumbs, pretending they were dials on a machine. She responded helplessly to his fiddling, arching her back so that her spine felt like it would break.
“NNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”
“Yeah, that’s it you cunt,” he told her. “In South America women sometimes broke their arms jerking around like his.” He changed his attack, sending short powerful burst through Diana’s breasts so that she bounced and twisted on the table. Sweat ran down over her body. Through the connection to his mind she could feel the throbbing swell of his cock, alive with happiness as she hurt her. “I hurt you the most don’t I,” he laughed. “Tell me I do and I might stop.”
She tried form words, tried to tell him to go to hell. She couldn’t. She only had breath to scream.
And as she screamed, flames burned their way into her lungs. She breathed in fire and felt herself roasting from the inside. Blisters formed on her legs as the skin turned deep red and began to split open as the meat and far underneath expanded.
Heatwave was right there with her, hand in his pants as she watched her at the stake. Without the bindings holding her upright the Amazon would have toppled headlong into the flames.
The fire became small scurrying monsters, biting at her with burning flame teeth and ripping her with flame claws. Her long legs shook in torment as she felt her feet burning away. Lizards of fire washed up over her belly, then snuck between her legs.
Diana threw back her head and shrieked in agony.
Writhing in front of Sonar she curled around herself, clutching her belly and sobbing. The sound waves pummelled her from different directions, making her twist and cry out. Her fingers gouged into the stone floor, leaving bloody trails as her fingernails cracked and split. Her vision was white anguish, leaving her blind and gagging.
Through the horror of DeSaads science Diana suffered all the tortures at once. She was lying on the table screaming under the current, twisting on the stake as she burned, and the pitiful mewling thing on the floor of Sonar’s vision. And as she looked out from all three sets of eyes and felt all three agonies she was also seeing herself suffer them, seeing as the men hurting her saw. It was like being in a room watching three clones of herself being put to horrifying deaths and feeling everything they felt as it happened.
“You will break,” Savages voice was whispering. She felt his hand touching her hair somewhere in the real world beyond this nightmare of pain. “These men hate you, lust for you. They enjoy hurting you. They will do it forever, if I let them.”
The Diana. watching her counterparts that were also her squirm and suffer and howl. choked back a sob. She felt totally degraded. There was no way to fight back. There was no escape. She was naked and helpless.
Savages hands roamed over her, the real her. They cupped her breasts and fondled them. Then slid down over her pubis and played there while in her mind she felt Heatwaves fire beasts biting the lips of her vagina, eager to get up inside her sex. Her soft pink womanhood burned. The breasts he hefted and massaged twisted in Electrocutioners hands as the power tore at them. Under their fatty globes her heart hammered fitfully, squeezing and then trying to explode out of her chest as Sonar pummelled it mercilessly.
She screamed in pain, and more than pain. She screamed in horror. And worst of all in welling, suffocating despair.
And no matter how loud she screamed, she still couldn’t drown out DeSaad’s moans of delight, or Savage’s mocking chuckle.
Part VI
Zatanna
Zatanna screamed into the gag in her mouth as she felt the skin on her thigh burning; a long slow line of fiery pain that inched from the back of her knee up around her inside leg and towards the soft feminine mound between her splayed limbs.
She tugged on the cords holding her in place, feeling blood oozing from her wrists and ankles. Tears flowed down from her eyes as she strained her head back, trying not to look at the human ghoul kneeling over her on the table. She knew he loved seeing the pain on her face – he had told her as much as he tortured her. She hated him, and anything she could do to lessen his pleasure she tried. But in her heart she knew there was nothing she could do that would stop him from enjoying his twisted punishment of her body.
Dr Light bit his lip as he moved the laser light projected from his finger inch by sadistic inch, watching his victim’s skin smoking under the heat as he burned her. The laser he projected from his finger had sliced through the leather of her high boots easily, but so far he kept the power low as he burned her. Similar scorch marks were traced her belly, her arms, and her other leg. He watched the limb quivering, heard the sound of the woman’s pain coming in moans and choked cries. The goatee beard on his long, angular face moved slightly as he wet his lips, watching her suffer.
He was naked, except for his headpiece with its white fin crest, kneeling with his legs either side of Zatanna’s hips. His right hand was used to move the laser beam over her skin, burning a reddish black line across the sweat soaked leg. His left hand was on his cock, which was thrust fully erect from his gangly body. He played with himself lightly as he hurt her, enjoying the added humiliation to her of seeing him fondle his engorged penis as she suffered.
‘It hurts, doesn’t it?’ he chuckled, extending the line up towards the point where here leg merged into her crotch. With a thought he made the beam a little hotter, seeing smoke rise from the wound and hearing her moan rise to a muffled scream. Zatanna had thought at first she could keep her screams from him, but he had taught her that was foolish. “That’s it, bitch, don’t try to hold back your screams. They’re so sexy!” He spat the last words, making the beam hot enough to burn straight through her leg and out the other side. She convulsed in agony, squirming under him as he watched her breasts bounce while her scream turned into a shriek.
He cut of the beam. “We don’t want all that thrashing around to see your pretty leg sliced off,” he hissed happily. “There’ll be time for that later when I’ve gotten tired of you. Not that I expect that to happen for quite a while.”
He leaned over her, and Zatanna could see the sweat on his body. Her own torso was covered in a wet sheen from having writhed in her bondage, but his was the result of pure lust. He had sliced away the remains of her shirt, but left her bra in place pushed down around her breasts.
The hand that had been fondling his cock gripped her chin and pulled her face around to look at his, and she could smell the scent of his phallus clinging to his fingers. There was a light in his eyes that had nothing to do with the photons he mentally manipulated, and it made her sick to look at him.
The female magician gagged as she tried to pull her body inside the metal table so that his dick wouldn’t brush against her. But it was impossible. A shudder ran through her as she felt the moist, wet head of his organ rubbing her belly.
“You fucked up my mind, Zatanna,” he told her. His eyes were full of desire but also of hate. “And for what – because I raped Elongated Man’s wife?” He actually laughed at the memory. “Sue Dibny knew what a REAL elongated man’s dick felt like by the time I was done with her.”
Even through her pain and fear Zatanna found the will to glare at the sick monster looming over her. If the gag were not in her mouth Light would have been in her place in an instant, suffering whatever torment Zatanna could utter in words.
“You thought you could make me better, didn’t you?” he asked her. He was brushing the head of his cock against her skin as he talked. “You think you’re better than me, I know. But the truth is I LIKE being who I am, and what I am.” He bit his lip, flushed with the power he had over her. “I like raping women. Not just fucking them – I like it when they hate it.” He leaned over her, and she could feel his breath on her face. “You’re going to hate it when I rape you, Zatanna. You’re going to hate my cock in you but you’ll beg for it anyway, because you’re just a weak little cunt.”
Light smiled wider seeing the hatred burning in her eyes. “I watched those other men raping you, you know,” he told her, playing with her hair. Her nostrils flared as she looked up at him in contempt. “All those men, fucking you over and over,” he giggled. “You look like you were enjoying it.” He glowered at her. “I’m going to have to make sure you don’t enjoy me.”
She swallowed, feeling sick just listening to him speak. She knew though that what he was the best part of what was going to happen to her in this room.
“I don’t remember how many times I came watching their cocks in you,” he said, wetting his lips. “You really must be a filthy little cunt to enjoy having dozens of murdering bastards fuck you like a cheap whore.” He looked down at her breasts, breathing quicker. “I don’t want this to give you pleasure.” His hand reached towards her breasts, his fingertips starting to glow. “I want you to hate this, to remember it as the worst moment of you life – right up to the moment you beg me to die.”
Zatanna watched, feeling the heat from his fingertips on the skin of her tit. She tried to hold her breath but she felt her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, curse him to hell, but the gag in her mouth would not let her do more than gurgle and drool.
His fingers touched her skin.
The pain was thin red-hot needles pricking her flesh. She shuddered and he smiled like the demon he really was. He began working his fingers over her tits, the laser light he projected burning red welts in the soft mounds of her chest.
“GGGGHHHHKKKK!”
Light giggled at the sound of her pain. He squeezed her breasts with his fingertips, and the same time stabbing them with thin short rays of energy. Not too deep – he didn’t want to risk piercing her lungs or heart. Tiny flashes speared down into the fatty tissue, scorching it over and over in microsecond bursts of suffering. Zatanna jerked and twitched under his torture, her head twisted to one side so that her black hair partly concealed her face. Light’s cock rubbed against her thigh as he stabbed his laser beams into the tit meat over and over, leaving a wet slime of pre-cum on her already sweat damp skin.
“I burned that Dibny bitch too,” he whispered at her. Zatanna could only sob softly in reply. “Not all over, I didn’t have time,” he went on. “But I have time with you, Zatanna.” He lifted up his hand and held it near her face. Zatanna looked up out of the corner of one tear filled eye as the whole palm started to glow. “I have all the time I need.” With a beam of light from one finger he burned through her bra strap, tugging it down out of the way so he could have free access to the full young breast at his mercy.
He slapped his hand hard down onto her left breast, making a loud thwack as the boob was pressed down by the force. At first she only felt the stinging pain of the blow, making her gasp.
Then she felt the heat.
“NNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
His hand and fingers burned against her skin like red hot irons. The white glow turned her breast a rosy translucent pink as she pulled herself back against the table top, squirming in agony. Zatanna’s arms and legs pulled frantically at the bindings, making the table quiver as her head twisted around and she screamed again.
Light laughed, clutching his hand tight so that her boob bulged around his fingers. He pulled up on her tit as he burned her, lifting her towards him as she wailed into the gag, then he forced his arm straight, slamming her back down on to the table so that she twisted like a butterfly pinned to a board.
Zatanna cried into the gag, biting down on it to try and bear the horror of feeling her breast burn in Light’s hand. Tears ran down her cheeks and she dug her fingernails into the palms of her own hands til she drew blood.
His hand was burning against her skin, burning into her. It was like an iron pressed against her, roasting slowly. The pain hammered in her skull, and pulled her down into it. It was like his hand was claw dragging her whole being down into her breast as it burned and burned and burned. The beautiful woman shook in agony. Her nipple felt like it was swelling, swelling to the point where it would burst apart. She sucked in breath through her nose, screamed it out, then did it again as his hand kneaded her soft pliant tit meat as it hissed softly in his grip.
Light pulled his hand away, looking down ecstatically at the bright red print he had left on the soft skin. He knew his prisoner could steel feel the hot pain, like a sunburn only ten times worse. Each shuddering breath the bitch under him took made the tit quiver. Reaching back his hand he extinguished the light around it, then slapped the injured boob hard.
THWACK!
Zatanna screamed again, agony flaring in her flesh. If he had poured scalding acid on her it could not have hurt worse.
“You like your tits, don’t you,” he snarled at her. When she didn’t reply he slapped the breast again, getting another muffled scream from her as she twisted sexily. The feel of his hand slamming into that yielding globe of meat was that of sex and power.
“Don’t you, you arrogant little cunt!”
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
The breast danced for him, back and forth. Light was saying something about men sucking on it as she moaned, and women too probably, and how she sucked on her own nipple as she fingered herself. Zatanna could barely hear him through the pain and horror of it. Every slap of his hand was like her breast was being whipped with barbed wire, tearing her flesh apart. She pushed her head into her shoulder, sobbing and praying for this to end.
Without the gag Zatanna’s screams would have bounced off the walls. As it was they were high pitched wet burbles of agony. She felt nothing but pain and shame. She wasn’t a hero, she was a victim. The though that if he pulled out the gag she might beg him to stop hurting her was horrifying, and yet she found herself wishing he would. Her whole body was rigid with suffering, and still he kept hitting her, over and over, until at last she could take no more and collapsed heavily to the table.
Zatanna lay there semi-unconscious and as he continued to slap her tit as she lay prone under him. Some time later she woke up, feeling her breast as a heavy mound of pain throbbing mercilessly. There was a wet patch of white slime on her belly that she knew was where Light had come over her as he hurt her. She sniffed and smelled the pungent odour on her face, and imagined him whipping his sperm across her open
mouth as she lay there helpless.
Hoping there was nobody to see, she cried softly.
Part VII
Supergirl and Wondergirl
‘UNNNNNN!’
‘Yeah bitch! Take it!’
‘Gaaaahh…No!’
‘Come on you little cunt. Take it all.’
‘Naaaa…aaaAAAAAAAAAAA!!!’
‘Yeah! That’s it. That is IT! Move for me.’
‘Bastards! Kill you all!’
The door to the room opened and Savage stepped in. The dozen men standing around looked at him, their eyes showing a mixture of lust, joy, and the fear that his arrival would signal a postponement of their gruesome fun.
Savage smiled, clearly enjoying the effect he had on the others. They were in a range of dress states – some like Scarecrow and Felix Faust who were more conscious of their physique preferring to keep most of their clothes on while others like the ocean going Black Manta or Bloodsport with more athletic forms had no modesty about standing start naked in front of their fellows.
But it was not the nudity of the assembled villains that intrigued Savage as much as that of the two young women chained to the metal tables in the middle of the room.
Supergirl and Wondergirl’s clothes had been mostly torn away, bare scraps of colourful cloth clinging to their sexy, sweating bodies. Their matching long blond hair hung damp, framing their tear stained faces as they lay on the platforms with their arms pulled back above their heads and their legs spread wide, hooked down around the side of the table so that their exposed crotches were at the edge of the surface.
As Savage walked in each girl had a man working hard between her legs, thrusting in and out of their helpless female sex as the girl’s bodies quivered and shook under the assault. Their breasts moved to the rhythm of the men’s driving hips, Wondergirl’s somewhat fuller orbs bouncing lustily while the teenage Kryptonian’s pert tits quivered on her chest. The men had left Supergirl’s uniform top on, the symbolic red S pushed up over her boobs and her red skirt wrenched around her narrow waist. Wondergirl’s top had been ripped away leaving nothing but a few red rags that hid none of her woman’s form, and the shredded remains of her jeans lay on the floor beside the table.
Savage walked over, blithely ignoring the violent rape going on as he watched. There was a faint glow of green around Supergirl’s table courtesy of the kryptonite chains that held her in place, nullifying her awesome powers. Never one to rely on just one precaution, Savage had set red lamps set overhead flooding the young girl with the light of Kryptonian sun, making sure even if she somehow got free of the chains she would have all the powers of a nineteen year old cheerleader.
Wondergirl’s bondage was even more simple, if somewhat bizarre – an armour clad figure grasping her arms at the top of the table. Savage wondered if the girl had worked out the secret to her imprisonment. Though considering the bruising he noticed between her legs she no doubt had much on her mind.
“The scans we took of the two of you were quite interesting,” Savage told Cassandra as Mirror Master relished the feel of his cock sliding in and out of her. Cassie only turned her face away from him, her fists clenching as she jerked in time to the thrusts of the villain between her legs.
“There was a time discrepancy I look forward to investigating further,” Savage went on, reaching out and brushing a strand of blond hair from Cassie’s face. She closed her eyes as Mirror Master panted happily. On the other table Supergirl gave a soft moan as her rapist gasped, thrusting strongly between her legs and then stiffening with pleasure. He moved inside her a few more times, then slipped free of her young pussy, his cock softening as it trailed a deposit of sticky white cum from the soft pink lips. The pungent fluid leaked from the girl’s sex and dripped down onto the table to join the other deposits already there.
The next man, another of Deathstroke’s paid mercenaries, stepped forward with his cock already thrust before him eagerly. But Savage held up his hand. The man was well muscles and looked ready to argue the issue, but a brief glance into Savage’s eyes convinced him to wait, albeit impatiently stoking his cock while watching Mirror Master enjoy Wonder Woman’s protégé.
“Dear Kara,” Savage said, coming to sit beside the teenage Kryptonian on her table of shame. He reached out and played with one of her nipples, bruised and discoloured from its rough handling of the hour. He smiled. “If only your dear cousin could see you, eh?”
Kara raised her head, looking at him with eyes stained with tears but defiant non-the-less. “Kal won’t kill you for this, you sick freak,” she hissed at him. “But I will. That’s a fucking promise!”
“My what a mouth you’ve got on you,” Savage said with mock-hurt in his voice. “Speaking of which,” he turned to the man who had been about to fuck Superman’s cousin, “since Wondergirl has nothing to say why don’t you put her own mouth to use?”
The man looked at the blond still being fucked by Mirror Master, rubbing his rock hard member as he watched Cassie getting pounded. She returned his stare with cold fury, her lips curling back to show her teeth. The man looked back at Savage, clearly wondering if the chance to sate his lust was worth having his hardened member chewed off.
“Oh don’t worry about her bite,” Savage said, looking over to Wondergirl. “If she uses her teeth on you I’ll make sure the next thing she has in her mouth is the skin of on of her Amazon sisters that I will flay alive in front of her.”
Cassie’s mouth curled into a snarl as she twitched on the table. “No…Amazon would want one of her sisters to…submit to your scum…” She gritted her teeth as Mirror Master reached down and played with her clitoris as he kept fucking her.
“Perhaps not,” Savage said, “but the question is – would you be prepared to watch it happen knowing you were too proud to do something to prevent it?”
Cassie looked at him with disgust, but Savage only smiled his sick smile. He nodded to the man he had prevented raping Kara. With some hesitation, he moved over to stand by the side of the table next to Cassie’s head.
“What about you, Supergirl?” Savage asked. “Will you beg me not to force your friend to suck the cock of a man whose being raping her Amazon sisters for days?” He looked at her cum stained young thighs. “Maybe you’d like to beg that he ravish you after all.”
Kara looked up at the villain, eyes cold. The sickly green glow of the chains made her look pale and haggard. “You’ll do what you want anyway…for now,” she told him.
Savage leaned over and kissed her shoulder. “Good girl,” he told her as she shuddered. The touch of his lips was more foul even than the liquid oozing down from her battered pussy. He nodded again to the man with his cock next to Cassie’s face.
Cassandra looked at the member waving next to her lips, smelling its pungent musk. It was circumcised, the bulbous head already wet with excitement. She could well imagine its owner using it on Phillipus, Menalippe, her other Amazon friends and sisters. She wanted nothing more than to tear it from its owner’s body and shove it down Savage’s throat instead.
But she didn’t. Savage didn’t bluff. She tilted her head back and let her lips part.
The man pressed his cock head to her mouth, and she let her red lips pucker around it. His hand grabbed the back of her head, holding her in place, and then he eased his hips forward.
“Oh yeah,” Mirror Master whispered as he raped her.
The cock slid passed her teeth and into the warm wet cavity beyond. He tilted her head so it pushed against the inside of her cheek, then began to move it in and out, slowly and deliberately face fucking her.
“Suck him, Wondergirl,” Savage said from the table beside. She heard Kara moan softly in sympathy. “Show your friend how a female worships a man’s shaft.”
Cassie closed her eyes and relaxed her jaw, taking the man’s cock deep into her mouth as he pushed forward. Her head moved slowly, tugging as his rape-tool. Kara could see a small tear sliding down her friend’s cheek as her the man slid his cock in and out, the shaft shining wetly with Cassie’s saliva as he fucked her face.
“Fantastic,” Mirror Master said, pushing harder and faster between Cassie’s long legs. Leaning over he grabbed one of her breasts in his hand, pulling on it and digging his fingers brutally into the pliant orb. The young heroine shuddered, feeling her sensitive boob being mauled by his cruel hand. With his other hand the villain held a small round mirror in front of her face.
“Look bitch,” he giggled, angling the reflective disc so it caught Cassie’s image. The technology of the mirror caught the image and projected it into the air above the table, showing the entire room a clear, larger than life picture of Cassie obediently sucking the mercenary’s rigid cock. Several of the onlookers clapped and cheered while others simply smiled appreciatively and fondled their own dicks, salivating at the chance to have Wonder Woman’s teen protégé give them unwilling head.
“You’re sick,” Kara spat at Savage with all the venom she could muster. “A sick, twisted, sadistic freak!”
“Oh, this isn’t just for entertainment,” Savage told her, smiling. Over his shoulder Kara could see the image of Cassandra’s head moving back and forth as her lips pressed hard around the cock pushing down into her mouth and throat. Savage’s eyes burned into her own. “Imagine what your dear cousin Superman will do when he sees the pictures of you two being raped in this room.” Kara’s eyes told clearly of the horror she felt at the thought of Kal-El seeing her defilement. “He’ll charge in her without the slightest forethought, an easy target for the trap we’ll have planned.” Savage pinched her right nipple gently, the pulled harder to make her wince. “And once he’s in our power, you’ll be able to watch everything we do to him.”
Kara pulled at the green chains, trying to get free. The idea of Kal in the hands of these monsters, the things they would do to him, gave her desperate strength. She twisted and heaved, using every ounce of might in her slender body.
It was useless. The Kryptonite held her unbreakably in its radioactive grip while overhead the red-sun lights did their work sapping her powers. She was helpless to save her cousin or herself. The men in the room laughed at her display, eager to feel her squirming just as energetically under them.
“Save your strength, Supergirl,” Savage told her, running his hand down to the space between her spread thighs and thumbing the cum damp folds of her sex. “You’ll need it to keep pace with the men who are waiting for the chance to rape a super-teen. And don’t hold any illusions about the Kryptonite killing you in the near future. This is synthetically made green-k, able to weaken you and hurt you, but not to kill you quickly by its mere presence.” He reached up to his coat pocket. “Which is not so say we can’t be very creative with how we use it.”
From his pocket the immortal villain pulled a small green glowing object, like a cut gemstone. Reaching down he pushed his thumb past her labia lips, spreading them to reveal the soft wet pink beyond. Kara watched in wide-eyed terror. “The synthetic kryptonite might not be able to kill you from the outside, but if we put in inside you may well wish it could.”
On the table next to Kara Cassie watched Savage reach down with the gemstone and saw him moving his hand, and then heard a pitiful wail from her friend. With Mirror Master fucking her harder than ever and the mercenary’s foul tasting penis sliding over her past her lips and over her tongue she could see the bearded monster’s arm moving as he pushed the poisonous glowing rock into Kara’s pussy, up into her tight sex where its radiation would burn her from within. Kara’s wail turned into a broken scream.
“Oh Rao, take it out! Please take it out!”
Savage said nothing, stepping back as Kara continued to scream and sob. As he made way Black Manta stepped up, holding his impressive shaft in his hand and angling it down between Kara’s legs. His tight abs moved under the skin as he pushed inside her and then began to pump energetically, smiling like a ghoul.
“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! OH FUCK, IT HURTS! PLEASE NO MORE!!! AAAAA…..EEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHH!!!”
At Kara’s shriek of agony Cassie felt Mirror Master stiffen between her legs, and the hideous rush of sticky warmth inside her that told of his climax. His hand on her tit squeezed so hard she moaned, fresh tears running down from her eyes. When he finally let go and stepped back and out of her she could still feel his fingers crushing her breast.
Savage came over and looked down at her as Scarecrow took Mirror Master’s place. The villain high-fived some of the others as he moved away, laughing and sweating. “I’m sorry I have no radioactive rocks to make you scream, Cassandra,” he told her. She felt the man in her mouth close to his own climax and gagged as some of his caustic pre-cum leaked down her throat. “But perhaps you’ve been thinking about how your own powers have been cancelled out.” He leaned over, no deterred in the least by another man’s dick so close as it pumped her soft red mouth. Her body shook as the man fucking her pounded her with unbridled enthusiasm. “Your powers were granted by Zeus himself I’m told, but he put a failsafe in place to make sure you could be controlled…by your mother.”
Cassie looked up him. The King of the Gods had made it so she had awesome powers, but had also enabled her mother to control her as a young girl by putting in the condition that Cassie’s powers winked off if her mother was ever…
She looked up at him in realization, her blood turning to ice.
Savage stood up and reached for the head of the armoured figure holding down Cassie’s arms to keep her pinned to the rape table. She had thought its strength was because it was a kind of robot. Except of course it wasn’t a robot. As he tugged at the faceplate it came away and Cassie found herself staring up and back at her mother Helena’s face. A metal gag was across her mouth keeping her silent, but her eyes spoke of the unmistakable horror and anguish she felt as she stood frozen, forced to hold down her beloved daughter as she was brutally raped in front of her.
“Sur-priiiise,” Scarecrow hissed as he pushed his dick deep inside Cassie’s sex.
Cassie’s scream was a choked gargle as the cock in her mouth released its hot load down into her heaving belly.
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