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