Wonder Woman: Trial by Ordeal
by marat
Chapter Eight
Wonder Woman was utterly exhausted. Her strength robbed, her body battered and enervated, she sobbed as the mixture of pleasure and pain sent wave after wave of tension and release through her body, which was now shaking uncontrollably. Rivulets flowed from inside her sweet-smelling sex down the black probe that reached ever deeper into her, searching out her most sensitive point.
The scene would have been unimaginable for anyone from Paradise Island to credit. The Princess of their race had been secured to a thick metal post, her sweat-soaked body now sagging on her knees on a rough piece of wood two feet above the shiny stone floor of a small, freezing cell. The heroine's great strength had been stolen by the single link that joined her Amazon bracelets and which secured them, in turn, to the steel rings looped around her ankles. The smooth muscles of her once-powerful arms were stretched taut just beneath her so-soft flesh, the arms themselves drawn back in a painful line toward her familiar highly polished red leather boots, themselves scuffed and torn following her ordeal. The hard edge at the top of a round metal post dug into the base of her skull. It allowed for no respite from her agony.
The Champion of All Women was near her breaking point. Piercing physical pain tore at her arms and shoulders, pain that she could not ignore as long as the chain took away her strength; bitter shame at her nakedness overwhelmed her, as these mere men observed her torture and degradation; she felt intense sorrow at the loss of Penelope, her dearest friend and fierce lover, whose life she had been unable to save; and now, her passion was reaching uncontrollable heights, her hips and thighs quivering with ecstasy, driven by the sinister mechanical device which slowly, inexorably, penetrated ever deeper into her. And in her mind, the last refuge of her Amazon dignity, all that had happened to her had been reduced to a single question. 'Why, oh gods, why?'
Sweat poured down her face, neck, and shoulders, covering her ample breasts and her exposed chest with glimmering streaks that reflected the light from the bare bulbs in the cell's ceiling. Her breathing was harsh and loud, as the helpless heroine gasped vast gulps of air into her dry throat. Her head was thrown back, her long black locks hanging almost to the small of her back, covering the post and giving those viewing from behind a sensation of a delicate balancing act on the 4x4 block.
'Gods,' she whispered, barely audible except to those nearest her. 'Gods, have mercy.'
'She is pleading for mercy,' one informed the group. Laughter erupted from the assembled officers. 'She'll not find it here,' another responded. Laughter rounded the room a second time.
The soft mechanical whirring continued as the rapidly vibrating tip of the black device finally found the Amazon's g-spot. As it did so, her hips elevated, placing even greater strain on her back and shoulders, and bringing even more intense pain to her arms. The cry that escaped her lips was of such exquisite sensuality, a perfect combination of pleasure and pain, that the men assembled collectively took a step toward the defeated figure in the centre of the room. The convulsive quaking that had been previously been confined to her hips and thighs now seized her entire body, and the cry became a long moan.
Finally defeated, Wonder Woman fell into unconsciousness. Her prayer had been answered.
Outside the base, along a dark stretch of fenced perimeter miles from the entrance to Wonder Woman's hell, a few hundred meters protected only by razor wire and an electric charge sufficient to kill even the large mammals that might wander into the area, two satchel charges were readied to open a breach in the protecting periphery. The first, the smaller of the two, would blast a hole under the wire, deep enough for the diminutive attackers to crawl under the first line of defense. The second would tear a hole in the electrified fence large enough for the attackers to enter the grounds of this fortress, whose purpose seemed so secretive to those who tried to earn a living in these mountainous border regions. To them, the secretiveness meant weapons or money. Both would aid their cause; either was sufficient to run the risk.
Their leader, Paolo, had known Che Guevara. Paolo remembered the inspiration he had brought, an inspiration that had been lost in the years since his murder at the hands of the Bolivians. Paolo had not forgotten, even while many other followers had deserted the cause. The American Government had provided weapons that had decimated their numbers, and those losses had disheartened still more. When this base had been built, it was as a direct challenge to Paolo and the guerrillas. This was their land, their people. Now the governments of Chile and Argentina were placing soldiers on territory that had been controlled by the Marxists for years. If the guerrillas did not have a victory soon, their cause would be lost.
Tonight, they would gain that victory.
Though unconscious and oblivious to her surroundings, the helpless Amazon Maiden continued to grind her hips downward against the insidious device that had penetrated her. Thick nectar flowed down the black probe and, even unconscious, moans still fell from her full red lips. At last, Kesselmann ordered the device removed from her. But this order was not a result of any mercy, for the Nazi had none. Rather, he saw that the fruition of his vengeance was at last at hand. The black probe was handed to him by a major who wrapped his hand around the object's base before turning it over to his superior, and who returned to his place in the crowd trying to unobtrusively smell his palm. Kesselmann himself seemed to caress the object, pressing against his body, his one good hand fondling its shape, his sharp nose sniffing the aroma of his prisoner's nectar.
The ring that joined her bracelets was now separated from those that encircled her ankles, freeing her body from the worst excesses of the hog-tie, though the link still deprived the Champion of All Women of her strength. Her entire body seemed to relax as she was stretched full-length before her masters. Then the unconscious Amazon Princess was lifted from her pillar and placed on the cold stone floor.
The image she presented to the officers was certainly not that of the heroic Wonder Woman that all had envisioned when they had first been told of her arrival, still only mere days ago. All that had transpired left merely an impression that much more time had passed. True, her beauty was still unmarred, and the perfection of this physical specimen was evident to all. But as she lay on the floor, only remnants of her familiar costume—the gold tiara, her red leather boots, and the golden girdle of Hippolyte—were all that remained. Near her were the tatters of the red-and-gold breastplate, the eagle now almost unrecognisable, and the famous, star-spangled V-shaped tights that had protected her most sensitive and private area from prying eyes, the latter cut by sharp bayonets and torn by anxious officers' hands. When the heroine had arrived on American shores from her Paradise Island homeland during World War II, the original incarnation of those objects of masculine desire had been more modest, looking more like what Mary Quant would later perfect as 'hot pants' in the 1960s. Now, in the 1970s, her redesigned uniform reflected the greater liberation that Wonder Woman had come to symbolise to American women. The bustier had become tighter and revealed more of her bosom. The earlier costume had been of a single piece construction. But in its new manifestation, the blue and white-starred panties were a separate piece of clothing: smaller, higher cut on her legs, more revealing of her round, shapely hips and even her buttocks.
These changes had led many to accuse her of a 'slutty' appearance, particularly among those, like Liddy, more conservative in their views. They equated her new costume and its revealing nature with Wonder Woman's vigourous defense of the civil liberties of critics of administration policies, declaring that the heroine was no longer 'a true American'. Liddy relished Wonder Woman's defeat for this reason. No one, not even Kesselman, driven as he was by thirty years of hate, felt a greater exultation at the sight of the sweating, exhausted, defeated woman who now lay motionless on the floor of the frigid cell.
Her tangled hair was splayed out around her head, surrounding it like a black nimbus, as she lay, face down on the ground. Glints of the golden tiara were visible through the raveled mesh of ebony, and the red star centered on the gold band across her forehead was occasionally viewed as, in her pain and delirium, her head rocked from side to side. Eyes closed, her nostrils flared as she slowly recovered from her ecstasy; her flawless skin and beauty still stimulated every one of her observers, despite, or maybe even because of, her evident helplessness. The full red of her lips were alternately pressed together, as the devastated heroine seemed to recall her ordeal, and then hang open provocatively. Her pink tongue reflexively reached outward to moisten those luscious rubies, but the devastation she had suffered ensured the failure of this seemingly simple task.
Her chest and shoulders expanded and contracted slowly as she breathed deeply, the sweat-soaked skin shiny in the harsh light coming from above. Her full breasts were pressed against the polished stones beneath her, flattening outward enticingly. The powerful muscles in her back seemed to finally relax, their hog-tied ordeal ended, and they lay smoothly against the all-too-perfect flesh that was visible to all.
The beaten heroine's body tapered to her narrow waist, the small of her back completely soaked with perspiration, which rolled down her sides toward the floor in large droplets; then her body exploded outward in those perfectly round, perfectly muscled hips, the hips and ass, which, when covered by the white stars that sprinkled the dark blue field of her tights, had driven so many men wild with curiosity and desire; hips which were here revealed in all their perfection for the eyes of these Chilean officers. Resting on top of her buttocks, her bound hands and wrists seemed utterly powerless, the fingers curled feebly.
Her round, perfect thighs were spread, revealing the swollen and flaming red of her sex, giving clear evidence of its excitement and mistreatment. A drop of her sweet honey hung on the lip of the entrance to her, glistening enticingly in the unshielded light from above. The insides of her perfect legs were spattered with the discoloured residue of that juice, by now hardening into crusty splotches many inches from the source. If she had been rolled onto her back, these voyeurs would have seen that these deposits virtually covered her entrance, lying in veritable globs on her perfect isosceles triangle of pubic hair and in the creases between her thighs and the entrance to her battered vagina. Below her knees, the scuffed and torn red leather of her boots was its own evidence of Wonder Woman's destruction at the hands of her enemies. And, as if to provide an exclamation point to this defeat, her entire body still visibly quivered, a result of the excitation and ecstasy to which she had scaled, of the debilitation of her strength in the face this relentless attack, and of her shackling by men.
The vision was more than any man could have resisted; and certainly the men who viewed her now were not to be restrained. Though unconscious, the Amazon Maid would now be subjected to more than a dozen rapes. One of the last would be Liddy, who would enjoy this final triumph over his enemy.
Through it all, Kesselmann would look on approvingly. His moment of vengeance had arrived.
Paolo and his aide had just finished digging a shallow trough in the frozen earth under the concertina wire that provided the first line of defense outside the perimeter of the base. Sappers now carefully placed the satchel charge into the furrow and made certain that the principal force of the blast would be directed upward against the nearby metal post to which the wire had been secured and the wire itself. The small size of the charge would not alert even sentries less than a half mile away, who would only hear what would later be described as 'a faint pop'. A much larger charge would later be used to blast a gap in the eight-foot-high electrified fence a few feet behind the wire. This gap would be large enough for the fifty men Paolo led into action tonight to race onto the installation and eventually make their way toward the buildings where, he hoped, weapons and equipment could be secured.
Four officers, in various stages of undress, stood over the battered and powerless Amazon. Each held his erect penis in his hand; each tugged, with varying amounts of vigour, at his member. One merely shook his member, whipping the last hanging dribble downward toward the naked girl. Another, much younger, vocalised his exaltation, simultaneously bending his knees and his body at the waist, reaching his free hand down to fondle Wonder Woman's unmoving thigh. He placed the full curve of her leg against his palm and fingers, rubbing all the way from the back of Wonder Woman's knee to the back of her hip. Unthinking, he even pressed his middle finger into her anus, wishing to remain as long as possible inside this most desirable of women—truly a wonder woman.
But she was not Wonder Woman. The figure that now lay supine before these officers was not in the least heroic. Her long ebony hair, the features of her glorious face—eyes, nose, mouth, even her ears— shoulders and breasts were all caked with the semen of these men. Below, the entrance to her sex was again inflamed and sore following penetration after penetration, vicious and violent, all aimed at demeaning the Champion of All Women. By this time her linked bracelets rested no longer behind her back, but rather on her stomach. The seeming ease with which she might escape made her appear even more helpless.
Though she did not hear a word of his rancorous diatribe, Kesselmann spoke to the unconscious, defeated prisoner, with thirty years of hatred oozing over every word, as though she were before him as she had been in 1942, strapped to the board in his interrogation chamber.
'So, the great Wonder Woman has been defeated by men. My men! My men! The man who was undermined by your female conspiracy so many years ago. I survived your conspiracy! Those who conspired with you against me are dead! And I survived Kursk, where you thought I would perish. I survived the loss of my body, and now I stand here, Wonder Woman, to see your final defeat and degradation. You will be held in our prison here, wearing all the evidence of this defeat. You will be revealed to the world, debased as you are, for all to see. It will be the last image of this… this… Wonder Woman that the world will see. Then, next spring, you will be infused with our Führer's_genetic remains. And you will give birth to not only one new Hitler. Once you have delivered, you will be impregnated again and again _and again! Until you have produced enough to repopulate a town! Then your miserable existence will be terminated, in the most painful way that these officers will be able to devise.
'I will encourage them to use their imaginations.' Kesselmann clenched and unclenched, over and over, the fist of his good hand.
'But now, Wonder Woman, it must be made clear whose property you are. For you are no longer the embodiment of the United States. You aided in the defeat of our Reich many years ago. Your role in that defeat has been be avenged, and your place in the new Reich must now be made clear. For you have no country now. Many of your countrymen have denounced you, as Herr Liddy will attest. You belong, instead, to the Reich… the new Reich you will have so large a role in recreating.'
He turned to a deep metal dish filled with coals, coals glowing red in the centre. Protruding from the center of those coals, a long metal handle reached out toward him. With his good hand, he plucked up the rod, the coals noisily shifting their places against the hard metal sides of the dish. What emerged from the coals itself glowed red, so hot that it could be heard sizzling in the cold air of the prison cell.
The form of the swastika that was almost white hot would brand the Amazon Princess as the Property of the Reich. Kesselmann leered at the unconscious girl that lay helpless before him. And with a greater feeling of triumph and exultation than he had ever known, greater even than that following his first capture of the Amazon Maiden or his knowledge of the torture-death of Fausta, he pressed the red-hot poker against the top of the ample left breast of his prisoner. The smell of searing human flesh and the hissing of red hot metal against that flesh filled the small cell.
Pain seared through unconsciousness, reviving the Champion.
'OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHRRAAAAGGGGHHH!'
Pain wracked itself through her chest.
Paolo and his men placed the charges near the electrified fence of the base's perimeter. The first explosion had made only a small sound even in the vast emptiness of the mountainous fastness where the secret garrison carried out whatever plans the governments intended. His observers had seen no indication that even the nearest guard post had heard a sound, much less recognised it as an explosion.
The next explosion would be different. Once the fence had been breached, Paolo and his fifty men would race through the gap, at the same time that another dozen of his soldiers would open fire on the guards at the watchtower not even half a mile away. There were only two such posts at this remote edge of the camp. The combined force would take the second post in less than an hour: taken by an attack from inside the camp's perimeter. With a little luck, they would not have heard the sounds of the first attack, and there would have been no word of the attack sent back to headquarters.
Paolo hated having to rely on luck for the success of his operation. But manpower shortages forced him to do so. Success tonight, and he could make his own luck next time.
Wonder Woman moaned in agony. Her breast had been branded with a swastika, declaring her the property of the new Reich. The reprehensible symbol formed an elevated pink-white scar, surrounded by a darker red inflammation that slowly spread across the mammary. Her entire breast throbbed angrily.
'OOOhhhh, gods! Gods, why? Why? Why did you do this?' Tears poured down the lovely Amazon's face, as she turned desperately toward her tormentor. 'Why?'
'To make you mine. You're my property now, Amazon. I will be acknowledged as the founder of this new Reich, and the new Führer will be the product of my genius. When he rises to his rightful place, he will know whose work led to his creation, and I will achieve my rightful place in history. No longer will I be the man who lost Wonder Woman, a despised footnote in the history of our cause; rather, I will be the man who avenged the Reich. The Führer will know who was responsible for his rise.'
Battered, nearly broken, and confused by pain and her maltreatment, Wonder Woman still rose to defy Kesselmann. She had come to America in the first instance to help fight the evil that Hitler embodied. She would not now be a partner in its rebirth. 'I'll… never… allow you to return… that… evil… to the world. I will… not allow… that monster… to be re-born.'
'Monster? You mean child, don't you? Wonder Woman, you're about to become a mother.'
Shocked, the battered, beaten, and exhausted Amazon Maiden was confused by Kesselmann's statement. Perplexed, she wasn't sure how to respond. Certainly, she didn't want to be responsible for the reincarnation of Adolf Hitler. But, when she became pregnant, she would be responsible for a life, a child. Harming the innocent would violate the most fundamental elements of the code she lived by. Even if the child she carried was genetically Hitler, he could still turn out differently, couldn't he? A loving environment, rather than the abusive home he had grown up in; a nurturing mother, rather than one who spoiled him; encouragement rather than criticism: all these things could effect the character of the man who would grow up and shape him in a different, constructive, way.
Or would it? Was the child shaped in the womb? How many differences would be necessary to create these kinds of changes in the character of the child, and of the man? Was it even possible to create changes of that magnitude through a nurturing mother?
Kesselmann saw the internal turmoil play itself out on her face and he knew that he had beaten the heroine again. Her physical destruction had been a necessary precondition for this psychological defeat. Too weary, and in too much pain to think straight, the Amazon heroine was forced back to her most elemental and fundamental position: a mother protecting her young.
He understood that once the child was within her womb, it was then that Wonder Woman represented the most serious threat to its well-being. The one thing she could do would be to harm the child once she carried him. It was necessary that the heroine understand that it was a child, not a Hitler. Under those circumstances, she would carry him to term. Once born, she would be allowed to nurture a child: just not her child. And, continuously pregnant, fertilized every Easter, she would produce one, two dozen new Führer_s, ensuring that the product would be exactly the man the new _Reich sought.
Wonder Woman's breast throbbed. Her body ached so horribly she could barely breathe. The agony brought on by her physical torture and repeated rapes overwhelmed her ability to rationally consider her predicament, just as Kesselmann had anticipated. The red-hot metal that had burned the Nazi mark into the Amazon's breast inflamed the flesh around the raised brand, until half of her chest glowed as if sun burnt. Lying on her back, naked before her enemy, the Champion pressed her forearms against the disfigured mammary, hoping that the embrace would chase the pain from the tender bosom. But the pain refused to leave.
'Stand up, Wonder Woman.'
Slowly, painfully, the powerless Champion of All Women struggled to her feet. She held her forearms against her injured chest, wishing the pain would disappear. All she knew at this moment was anguish and pain, both of which resulted from the stigma of being merely the Property of the Reich. She did not see what Kesselmann saw: the sperm-spattered face, arms, legs and crotch of the earth's mightiest woman. The humbled form of a woman who had once been instrumental in bringing down Hitler's Germany. A woman confused by physical pain and sexual assault, who now could not make a reasoned evaluation. A defeated woman. A broken woman.
'I…'
'Speak when you are told to speak, whore.'
Wonder Woman's mouth hung open for a fraction of a second, then humbly and quickly closed. The beaten heroine looked embarrassed. She stared at the floor.
'There are more gentlemen who are waiting for you, Wonder Slut.'
Too numb to react, the bewildered Princess of the Amazons continued to look at the floor.
'Do you want to see them, bitch?'
'N—, Y—yes,' she said quietly.
'I'm sorry, bitch, I didn't hear you.'
'Yes. I… want… to see them.'
'Good. Because they want to see you.'
The first of the non-commissioned officers waiting in the hall opened the door. He could not believe his good fortune. There were dozens of non-commissioned officers on the base. All of them were waiting in the hall. Even those who were assigned to guard duty overnight. And he would be the first to have this spectacular beauty.
They said she was the famous Wonder Woman. And she had the boots and tiara that looked like the real thing! But her body was covered by a crusty residue, the product of the officers' enjoyment. She had bracelets, joined by a single link, on her wrists, that looked like the real thing. But this battered, defeated woman could not be Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman was proud, majestic, powerful; this woman was… branded, he thought. She has been branded with a swastika on her breast. Certainly she was only dressed as Wonder Woman to fool the enlisted men.
But she was a free piece.
'On your knees, whore,' he ordered, as if speaking to a recruit.
There was a slow inevitability as the woman dropped to her knees before him. She cradled her breast in her forearms.
'Drop your arms in front of you.'
She did as she was told.
'Now, open your mouth.'
Paolo and his men had easily secured the first guard post. In the frigid night air, they had covered the half-mile from where they had breached the fence and, supported by other guerrillas outside the perimeter, they had defeated and killed the small squad of soldiers. Now, his troop was prepared for the next step.
He looked at the four dead men on the floor in front of him. Privates. All privates! Not even a corporal was in charge of the post. No command! His men rooted through the shack grabbing up ammunition. One picked up the heavy M-60 machine gun and hefted it across his shoulders. This was already a prize worth having!
'My friends, there are more rewards waiting for us,' he said whispering harshly in the darkness. 'We have been fortunate. Our enemies do not respect us. We will teach them the error of this kind of thinking. Come! This way!' he said, pointing toward the dim lights a couple of miles distant, where he knew the buildings were.
Again and again, Wonder Woman was penetrated. Her entire body ached. Bursts of sharp pain shot through her swollen sex over and over again. White-hot flashes of light appeared before her eyes each time she was entered. She no longer could taste anything, the inside of her mouth almost encrusted with dried semen. The pleasure that had earlier been elicited from her by these acts of male gratification had long since passed, leaving only the constant pain.
Liddy stood at the door. A smile played across his lips as he watched the now-unmoving Amazon, limp as a rag doll, serve as a sex toy for a corporal. As the small soldier finished with her and pulled up his pants, the shaven-headed American marched into the cell and stood over the humiliated, beaten, and finally motionless woman. Her body had been defeated and broken; rapes measured only in the dozens had battered her, physically and mentally; and her breast, bearing the brand of her most relentless adversary, a Nazi officer who had survived the rigours of the Russian Front, who had nursed his hatred for this woman, throbbed angrily. The Amazon Maid heard nothing but a whooshing sound whistling through her ears, saw nothing beyond movements of colour running together, and apprehended nothing save the insensibility that had finally taken over her magnificent body.
Liddy reached down and pulled her head up by her hair. The index finger of his free hand brushed back and forth across the raised welt of the swastika on her breast, a welt still surrounded by flaming red tissue. Finally, gripping the teat in his fist, he crushed the brand under his thumb.
The pain cut through the numbness as the Champion of All Women moaned weakly, breathily, too exhausted and too beaten to do more. It was difficult to see in this defeated figure what she had once been. The beautiful Daughter of Paradise Island, for many Americans she was the single figure who most embodied the ideals of her adopted land. For hours she had been debased by these men; now only one word coursed through her befuddled brain: 'Why?' Why did her gods allow her to be so mistreated? Why did her enemies wish to constantly degrade her in this way? Why did she insist on regularly returning to the World of Men, where such contempt was her reward?
'How does it feel, Wonder Woman?' he asked, piteously. 'How does it feel to be finished?'
Wonder Woman did not hear him. His mockery was as so much white noise now, for she could not distinguish among any of the sensations that washed across her sensibilities.
'You're nothing now, Wonder Woman. You have become merely the depository for the new Führer. You have ceased to be a person and you've become a thing. For everyone here, you're merely an object. For the officers, you're a pleasure girl. For these enlisted men, you're a slut. For Kesselmann and his people, you're an incubator.'
He released her head, which fell heavily to the stone floor, the thud! echoing sickeningly in the cold chamber. With both hands he grabbed her wrists, feeling the cold Amazonium of her bracelets against his fingers, and raised them toward his face.
'And all because I did this,' he said, with a chuckle. 'When your bracelets are chained by a Man, you lose your great strength. Kane told me about your mother and Hercules, and the symbolism of the bracelets.'
Dropping her wrists on to her naked torso, Liddy stood erect and sighed. 'Perhaps I should say, the late Mr. Kane. You didn't know that, did you?'
He paced back and forth in the cell. 'Both Kane and his bitch, what was her name? Audra—what was it? Audra, er, Audra LeVelle. When I got Kane the job in the White House, and when he slurped up all the perks that became available because of that job, he got his likeness into all of the Government's identification systems. Once you helped them get out of town, they thought they were safe. They were wrong. You were wrong. It was relatively easy to find the two of them, traveling together. The White House has all kinds of resources. We found them in Tucson. The local police are probably still trying to identify their remains.
'Kesselmann wants you to disappear, Wonder Woman. You're going to be the broodmare for his Fourth Reich. For the foreseeable future, you'll be delivering little Hitlers.
'Picture it. For the next fifteen, twenty years, you'll produce one of them after another. Meanwhile, I'll be safe here, safe from the charges that would await me in the States. The Chileans have offered me a role in the government. A role involving little visibility. And thirty years from now, when the new Hitler is on the rise, I can emerge with new power.
'Depending on Kesselmann's desire for vengeance, you may be dead by then.'
Liddy grabbed the linked bracelets of Wonder Woman and roughly pulled her to her feet. The leather soles of her boots scraped hollowly across the floor of the small cell as he fairly tossed the unresponsive heroine onto the bed, from which she had slid during the assaults.
She lay at an angle across the rough woolen blanket that was tightly stretched across the thin mattress. It was only wide enough to allow for the Princess' torso. Near the foot of the bed, her hips rested on top of the dark green cover, her bare legs curling toward the stone floor. Towards the metal frame that served as the head of the bed, her shoulders—or more accurately, her right shoulder and her neck—lay on top of the bedclothes.
Liddy knelt between her legs, feeling the sweat and grime that were now smeared on the smooth surface of her soft flesh. The once-mighty Wonder Woman, barely conscious, her legs spread before her enemy, was initially deadened to his probing. He used his fingers to spread her entrance before him. There was only the smallest trace of reaction as the superheroine responded to the advances.
He licked her entrance, at first lightly, then more insistently. The battering her sex had endured had numbed her sensations in that area. But his tenacity and perseverance eventually penetrated the heroine's consciousness, at least at the most elemental level.
Her legs, though weakly, moved rhythmically, up and down, in and out. Liddy moved his hands from the sides of her labia to the insides of her thighs, and he could feel her muscles drawing taut and releasing. He could sense her weakness. The bald-pated American could hear the leather of her boots squeaking faintly as she rose up on her toes beneath the scuffed red leather. His lips played against her, his tongue extending further and further into her vagina. He roughly licked the inside of the barely conscious Champion, enjoying the salty taste. He pulled at the fatty tissue, nibbling it.
After many minutes of a distant awareness of Liddy's assault on her sex, the sensuality tore through toward the hapless avenger's consciousness. A small, weak, groan escaped her lips.
Liddy pressed his attack on her, hoping for further signs of defeat.
Paolo and his men had taken the second of the outposts even more easily, if that were possible, than the first. Again, only a few low ranking enlisted men had been guarding this remote section of the camp's border. Only one private, first class, has been present at these two stations. Could it possibly be going this easily? Is it possible that the people running this installation felt this safe, that there would be no responsible officers or non-commissioned officers guarding the edges of this encampment?
He looked around. There was no one—no one—anywhere to be seen. No one walking the perimeter. No one checking in on the radio! Not even the sound of a jeep making the rounds of the guard posts.
What is going on?
'The lights tell us where the materials we want are. Be careful of any possibility of an ambush. But we have a possibility of completely surprising them. Come on!'
Bundled against the winter night in Patagonia, over sixty men raced toward the interior of the camp.
Slowly at first, then more insistently, sensations penetrated Wonder Woman's sensibilities. Through the numbing pain that throbbed through her hips and spine, she first felt pressure. Hands pushed her legs apart. Her once powerful legs that could leap easily into the upper storeys of high-rise buildings or outrace a train were now easily pushed aside as a mere man sought entrance to her. Rough palms and strong fingers grasped at her thighs, massaging her legs and, at the same time, exciting their author. They moved slowly from knee to crotch and back again and, following the perfectly round curvature of Wonder Woman's leg, around almost the full circumference of the exciting extremity.
The brushing of her thighs became increasingly sensual. The sensation of the full palm stroking her thigh was intermixed with pricks of mild pain from Liddy's fingernails, as he almost plucked at the oh-so-soft flesh. Too weak to prevent him from pressing his advantage, the heroic Amazon Maid, emerging from her unconsciousness, gradually became excited, excited by his probing and his stimulation, but also excited by her own powerlessness. The first evidence of this was the small quivering of her left leg, soon to be joined by the other. The spastic, jerking, up-and-down motion of first one leg and then both told Liddy all he needed to know of his triumph.
Wonder Woman felt Liddy place his folded arms on top of her thighs as he pushed himself closer to her sex. His chest pressed against the insides of her thighs near to her crotch and the locus of his desires; she felt the pressure of his fingers now spreading her lips to receive him. But the residue of pain from the sexual assault that had been mounted against the Amazon girl at first allowed for only a sense of pressure. There was no pain attached to his rough handling of the folds at her entrance. When he opened her to his oral attack and his tongue penetrated as deep into her as its length allowed, again there was only the sensation of heaviness bearing down on otherwise insensate tissue. It was multiplied by her powerlessness to stop him.
The band of guerrillas moved to surround the buildings where, they hoped, they would find the necessary tools to continue their efforts against the military they believed had taken their birthright from them. This would be the same military that would shortly oppress them even more, once they came into unchecked power.
But on this night that destruction of their movement was in the future. Tonight they would gain weapons which would make their movement stronger. These same weapons would also make their destruction all the more bloody.
As the men ran across the open ground toward the hangars and office buildings, mostly unlit at this time of night, Paolo was still aware of the absolute stillness around the encampment. Even on frigid nights such as this one, there would be guard and security activity: guards changing, jeeps carrying corporals of the guard to inspect posts, something. But there was nothing—no movement, no sounds, no activity.
Was it a trap?
There was only one way to find out. Che had always said that to gain much, one had to be willing to lose much. The hangar that was now less than a half-mile distant was so brilliantly lit, it cast a glow into the dark mountain night.
His breath visible in the cold night air, he whispered to his aide, 'There! We'll start there!'
Inside her, Liddy's tongue lapped against the sides of her vagina, still inflamed, rubbed raw, and caked with the dried deposits of his predecessors. He had been at it for many minutes, and Wonder Woman could feel what had been only pressure slowly give way to genuine stimulation against her tender tissue.
Slowly, involuntarily, her legs lifted and separated as she welcomed his predations.
Almost inaudibly, she whispered, 'OOHhhhh, nn-nnnooo. N-nn-nnoo!'
Liddy pressed further.
'Pow-power-less! Oohh, g-gods, h-h-hel-p meee!'
The former CIA operative turned his head so that his lips now lay parallel to hers, and his tongue slid more easily and more deeply into her.
The breathing of the Champion of All Women turned ragged and became louder. 'MMmmmmnnnnggggghhhhhhhhhh!! MMmmmgggggllllhhh!! OOOOHH-AAAgghhhh! Uuuuggghhhhhh!!'
Her apparent helplessness added to Liddy's desire. He pressed his face against her and his tongue probed as deep as he could of make it go.
'NNN—, nnn—, nn-n-nnnoo! SS—, sss—, ssstooo-op!' Then she cried out, 'GODS!!! Gods, NO! Why, dear gods, why?' She collapsed physically before her tormentor, as the effort to cry out had totally rendered her completely exhausted.
Liddy rose, a smile and her fresh honey covering his mouth and jaw. 'Gods, Amazon? Yes, pray to your gods. But they can't help you here. Here, I am your only god.' Then he knelt and returned to his work.
Meanwhile… as they say when the plot's about to thicken… meanwhile, several floors above the Amazon Princess' hell, where the exhausted and distracted Chilean soldiers lay about inside the hangar… the plot was about to thicken.
The soldiers lay around the large open area. Some simply replayed their moments of ecstasy in repeated reveries, recalling even the smallest moment, recapturing the feeling, the smells, the sounds of their experience. Others talked quietly in small groups, the murmur occasionally broken by loud, boastful laughter as one man's tale of his conquest reached greater heights than his fellows. Even the officers, whose rape of the Amazon was long past by now, were still occupied in their conversation and braggadocio.
The hangar was closed against the elements on this winter night. Paolo and one other man cautiously approached an entrance, the leader still concerned about the apparent lack of movement anywhere on this base tonight.
Peering through a glass, he saw the population of the camp idling away the time. Realising that this window of opportunity was quickly passing, Paolo used hand signals to bring the rest of his troop forward. Now armed with the weapons seized from the two guard posts, he prepared to spring a very unpleasant surprise on the relaxing soldiers.
He sent half his force to the only other entrance to the building.
Wonder Woman's back stiffened as she lifted herself at the waist from the bed. Yet again, her entire being had been taken over by the sensuality of the moment. Confused, weakened by the loss of her Amazon strength, unable to resist its power because of the link joining her bracelets, the helpless Amazon Maid gasped for air. Her throat, now unspeakably dry, sounded raspy as she devoured great gulps of air. Her tongue, as dehydrated as her throat, wiped feebly across her parched, cracked ruby red lips.
Her voice cracked as she whispered feebly, 'N—n—n—nnooo! SSsss—top! I… I can't… t—take a-ny… morrre! You… you'rrre… ki-lling me!'
Hearing this, Liddy rose from between her legs, his face smiling, his tongue licking away the evidence her Wonder Woman's devastation. 'Killing you? No, Wonder Slut, I won't kill you. As a matter of fact, I will go to great pains to ensure your survivial.'
As he returned to his pleasure, he said softly, 'You'll only wish you were dead.'
Many meters above the scene of Wonder Woman's destruction, the rebels burst in upon the enervated soldiers from both doors at once. The Chileans, some only now barely recuperated, didn't have a chance. Firing their weapons on full automatic, including the newly-acquired M-60 machine guns, the fire fight was over in only a matter of seconds.
As the echoing of the thunderous reports of the guns, the only sound Paolo heard in the large closed space was the cries of the wounded.
Wonder Woman's hands reached out toward her attacker. Weakly, they tried to push him away. Her mind, however, broken by the multitude of rapes and the physical torture to which the helpless woman's body had been subjected, was far more susceptible to physical stimulus than to any remaining sense of honour. As the soft, now-hypersensitive skin of her palms brushed against the hard muscle of Liddy's forearms, a change occurred in the heroine's intent. Overwhelmed by the sensuality of her situation, finally battered into total submission to the man who now knelt between her violently quivering legs, who pressed his lips against the entrance to her sex and pushed his tongue as deeply into her as its length allowed, her mind understood only the all-encompassing sensuality of the moment. As her hands gently brushed and feebly wrapped themselves around the man's arms in an effort to push her attacker away, her brain knew only desire, and she began to caress his arms and run her fingers across the backs of his hands as they pulled her open to an even deeper penetration.
Her breathing was ragged and loud. She moaned her exultation. No intelligible words passed the dried cracked lips of the Champion of All Women, now reduced to Liddy's sex-toy. Her only sound was one of pleasure and she lifted her legs and wrapped her thighs around his head, holding him in place to sustain his probing of the Amazon Maiden's waiting interior. Higher and higher, her delight only found new boundaries as Liddy pressed his wiggling organ ever deeper into her waiting sex.
'Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!' she grunt rhythmically, raggedly, her hips forcing themselves toward her enemy, seeking deeper penetration, greater sensuality, a higher ecstasy. 'Ugh! Uuggghhhh!' 'UUUgggghhhhh!'
Liddy felt the silken thighs wrap themselves around him. Wonder Woman's knees pulled weakly against the back of his shaved head, trying to draw him even further into her. Her booted ankles, crossed and lying against the middle of his back, likewise pressed him toward her. The soft leather, pressing against his back, stimulated the former CIA operator, and his own sweat mingled with hers at the point of conjunction.
Never had he known such arousal. Between his legs, his prick became painful as it was engorged more fully than he had ever known. The two sweating forms, she, soaked and shiny, he now struggling to breathe, pressed tighter and tighter together, conjoined in oral sex to form a single organism, an organism that lived only for the pleasure of its male and female halves. His tongue pushed deeper into her, running its rough course across and around the tissue that, at this moment, was his alone. The salty taste aroused him, for this conquest was the greatest of his life. As the rough pink organ moved in and out of her, some soft loose tissue accompanied it to the edges of Liddy lips. These he nibbled, the soft, sharp bites exciting the superheroine even more. Her body jerked spastically with each cutting bite. Meanwhile, with his left hand, Liddy reached beneath the powerless woman and felt the pressing flesh of her ass, pressing itself toward him, to satisfy him, and herself, of a sexual desire knowable only to the gods. He pushed one finger into the crack between the halves of her buttocks, searching for a second entrance to this utterly desirable girl. Finding it, he felt her feebly start, surprised at the new assault on her, and then her hips began a small circling movement, moving around and up and down, allowing his penetrating finger, if he held it steady, to move in and out of this second orifice.
Meanwhile, his right hand, still held by his prisoner's own hands, moved to Wonder Woman's abdomen. The powerful muscles there, long fatigued and weakened by the Amazon's ordeal, gave way to the mere weight of his hand. The heroine's body was soaked with perspiration and, as Liddy ran his fingers along her torso, the puddles of liquid broke and ran down her sides, dripping in great globs to the floor below.
Both now gave voice to their ecstasy, a cacophonous union of appetite and weakness, of triumph and defeat. For Liddy, it was the ultimate assertion of his manhood and his triumph over all women and over this woman, the Champion of All Women. For Wonder Woman, it was her deepest degradation, to be nothing more than a willing plaything for men.
For Liddy, the moment was over in a second, as the hard wood and metal of the butt of an M-14 cracked hard against the back of his head, dropping him to the floor, leaving him unmoving for many minutes, Wonder Woman's honeydew dribbling from his lips to the polished stones beneath him.
For the Princess of the Amazons, unrecognized by her rescuer, the sudden end to her rapture shocked and disoriented her. In her delirium, she screamed and then she collapsed, writhing, her body utterly uncontrolled, to that same floor.
Paolo saw the once-beautiful woman, her wrists chained, helpless on the cot as the man pressed himself into her. Her long black hair nearly covered her face as she pushed herself upwards, toward her molester, her shapely body bearing the evidence of a multitude of rapes , maltreatment, and abuse. Her torn and scuffed red leather boots seemed almost out of place on this woman in her condition, for they seemed to be fashionable and stylish, not the attire of a prisoner, or a whore.
When he had knocked the man unconscious, and the woman had fallen, screaming, to the floor, he saw more of the evil that had been done to this helpless girl. The layers of crusty cum spewed all over her body, the inflamed soreness of all of her orifices… and the still-red brand in the form of the swastika on her breast.
What had these men done to this poor girl?
He immediately pulled the thin woolen blanket from the cot, and placed it over her as she contorted her body on the hard polished stone floor of the cold cell. Then, kneeling next to her, he pressed the edges of the covering around her figure, though she tried, weakly, to push him away.
As the violence of her response gradually died away, and the defiled woman fell at last into a quiet repose, Paolo lifted her and carried her out the door and to the waiting stairway. His team's doctor would do what he could for her.
The bald attacker would have to wait.
Paolo kicked the door shut behind him, securing Liddy inside the cell.
The key to Wonder Woman's physical recovery was the removal of the link between her bracelets. Once this was done, her immense reserves of Amazon strength quickly began the process of curing her body. The soreness quickly disappeared; the return of her strength and Amazon purity even caused the mark of the brand to diminish to the point where it was barely visible, even if one knew it had been seared into her flesh; a treatment of nothing more than soap-and-water removed the stains of her degradation; sleep eased the pains in her muscles.
Her mental state took much longer. Her dreams were filled with nightmares, visions of the officers taking her one after another, of the laughter of men, of the derision, ridicule, and mockery she had endured.
And of visions of Penelope.
Two days passed before Wonder Woman arose from her bed, one that had been set aside for her in an officer's quarters. She discovered that she had been clothed in the uniform of one of the dead Chileans. Though she was not aware of it, during those two days she had been fed some small amounts of food, mostly soup, from the base's stockpile.
Paolo had learned who the prisoner was, though he had not passed this information on to the others in his command. He had heard stories of this Mujer De la Maravilla, and he knew that it would not do for the story of this defeat to be told. The man who had been found with her was kept away from his soldiers, who were themselves kept busy with removing the weapons and stores from the base to their own supply depot.
When Wonder Woman arose, unsteadily, and moved about her room, Paolo was there. He spoke kindly to her, and ordered more food be brought to her. All during that day, he was there to comfort her when she would burst uncontrollably into tears. He was there when she fell asleep again that evening.
'Señorita Wonder Woman, it is time for us to part,' Paolo told her after breakfast on the third day.
'I must return to the United States,' she replied. 'There is work for me to do there.'
'The man who was with you; if you desire, we can deal with him.'
'No, Paolo. I will take him with me.'
Less than a year later, Paolo and all of his men, including more than fifty more who had joined him after the successful raid on the mountain base, would be hunted down by the Chilean military's crackdown following the overthrow of Salvador Allende.
Before leaving the mountains of Patagonia, Wonder Woman would use her magic lasso to remove all memory of his triumph from G. Gordon Liddy. She would replace it with a tale of terror in which he hid from pursuing police before his capture. He would stand trial for his role in the Watergate break-in. Aware of the fallability of the forgetfulness brought on by the magic lasso, the heroine concocted the story so that there would be no blank spaces in Liddy's memory, blank spaces that would lead to questions of the sort that led Liddy to Kane.
As for herself, Wonder Woman returned to her Georgetown apartment. As she drove up to the front, she looked into the driveway, hoping to see Penelope's Datsun pick-up still parked there.
The driveway was empty.
She stood before the door to her apartment for a long time. When she entered, the apartment was immaculate. There was no sign of what had happened there.
And Penelope was gone.
The End
Comments, questions, and suggestions are welcome: contact the author at marat1793@comcast.net