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The Real You	By : darkamazon Category: DC Verse Comics > Justice League Views: 19339 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
CYBORG

Wonder Woman Triumphant
By Dark Amazon
Warning: This story is rated NC-17 for explicit descriptions of consensual and non-consensual sex, language, violence and subject matter. Please do not read this if you are underage, or offended by written depictions of rape or sex.
All characters are owned by DC Comics. I am not making any money for this.
Chapter 1: The Violation
"Batman, there have been reports of a warehouse explosion on Dock 18. As of yet there are no reports of casualties. Police and fire are on their way. Do you want me to dispatch Batgirl, or check it out yourself?" Oracle’s voice came through his cowl speaker.
Batman didn’t lower his binoculars and continued to stare at the group of thugs gathered around a table. Their boss, Adrian Comfrey – and, Batman suspected, the man who killed five men recently found in the Gotham landfill – was expected shortly, if the conversation that he picked up through his long range mike was any indication. He couldn’t get away now, not at this important juncture is iis investigation, and he didn’t want to send Batgirl on a frivolous errand. Explosions didn’t always mean that the Joker or Killer Croc were on the loose.
"No. Dock 18 is over one of the city’s secondary gas lines, and Wayne Construction has been trying to get the contract to fix the damaged sections of the lines for a year now, but the city kept stalling. Looks like they stalled too long. So, unless there is other indication of criminal activity, let the firemen do their job."
He cut the connection, and adjusted his stance on the ledge of the building. A movement in the room alerted him to Comfrey’s entrance.
"Batman’s on my ass!" Comfrey yelled upon entrance. "Was any of you talking to him about anything?"
Batman nearly smiled. His mike was recording everything Comfrey said. In minutes, he was sure, Comfrey would incriminate himself. Anger and a loss of control, Batman thought, got more criminals detention time than anything else.
"I didn’t take care of business just to get thrown in the pen," Comfrey continued, "So if any of you know why Batman seems to know about them guys I took care of and threw in the river, and exactly how he knew I did it, you better come clean now!"
"Got you," Batman said softly, and pulled out a batarang—
"Batman, I think you better get down to Dock 18." Oracle broke in. "I’m picking up police and fire communications that indicate some of their men are going down."
Batman gritted his teeth. This opportunity was too good to pass up, but if there was a shoot out of some kind, he’d be of better use helping the police. "Any known causes?" he grated harshly.
He heard the hesitation in Oracle’s voice before she said, "I think it is Wonder Woman."
He frowned. "She is there or she is the cause?" If Diana was there, then he probably wouldn’t need to help her, and could continue here. And then he’d remind her, later, to stay the hell out of his city.
"The cause, I think. The communications are very – garbled."
"Fuck," Batman said, and he put away his equipment quickly, shooting a jumpline out toward the Batmobile. "I’m on my way."
Once in the car, he swore again even as he loaded his belt with items that might be needed to take out the Amazon. He trusted a, ba, but he also knew that if she was under some kind of mind control that she could wreak havoc at Superman’s level unless he could stop her.
Luckily, he was always prepared for such an emergency. Once, he’d created his protocols and kept them secret from the league, but that plan had backfired when one of his enemies had used the protocols to disable the JLA. Now, they knew that he had developed methods of controlling the metahumans should they be under outside influence; although he hadn’t, of course, divulged exactly what those methods were.
"Batman, do you want me to contact Superman or The Martian Manhunter for assistance? Diana is closer to their strength level, if it comes to that." Oracle’s voice was worried. Although she knew that Batman could handle anything that he came up against, Diana was in a class almost by herself. Only a few heroes could match her physically.
"Not unless I ask," Batman said. The last thing he wanted was more metapowered humans coming into his city and getting into a destructive fight. He, on the other hand, had no intention of physical combat. He knew that he was the superior martial artist in an otherwise evenly matched fight with Wonder Woman, but against her strength and speed he would have almost no chance. Instead, he planned on using the fast-acting drugs in his belt to knock her unconscious.
The trick, of course, was to administer the chemicals before she realized what he was doing.
He could see the effects of the explosion before he got to the warehouse – the sky was orange from the still-burning fire, and the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles reflected off the smoke in the air. The Batmobile’s sensors told him that Diana’s JLA communicator was in the center of a group of officers standing near the outside wall of a nearby warehouse, but he couldn’t actually see her from his car. He pulled to a stop next to Gordon’s police issue vehicle. Off to the left, a team of EMT’s were working over a uniformed officer, and he could see another cop being loaded into an ambulance on the stretcher.
Gordon pulled away from the circle of cops, ran to meet him. He fell into step beside Batman, who nodded toward the ambulance. "Did Wonder Woman do that?"
Gordon’s face was tense, distraught. He ran his hand through his hair, seemed to have trouble finding words. "She won’t let us near her. I’ve pulled my men back." Gordon blinked quickly, and Batman felt the first trickle of unease as he realized that the older man was fighting tears. Several of the other officers, he noted, were crying openly.
"Did she kill one of your men?" If Diana had fatally injured someone, even under mind control, Batman knew that she would never forgive herself nor could Batman.
The public – and the rest of the JLA—he knew, would be more forgiving than either of them. He didn’t want to see Diana in that kind of turmoil, didn’t want to live with the knowledge that one of his own friends had brought death to his city.
Gordon shook his head, and Batman felt the pressure that had weighed momentarily on his chest ease. "No. I don’t think she’s conscious of what she’s doing, but she only acted enough to get them away from her. The EMT’s are working on Officer Rola Quinn now – after Wonder Woman wouldn’t let my first male officer near her, I thought ta fea female would help – considering her island background – but Wonder Woman tossed her aside." The two men had reached the group of officers by then, and Batman began to stride forward, but was stopped by Gordon’s hand on his arm. Batman looked down at it, frowning.
"Batman, you need to prepare yourself."
He could tell that Gordon didn’t mean he needed to be prepared to fight her. The unease returned, but he simply said, "I am," before stepping through the line of officers.
He wasn’t. He stopped, his lungs seeming to freeze inside his chest, his gut feeling as if he’d been kicked.
Diana lay on her side, her back to the warehouse’s brick wall, her legs pulled up to her chest. Her eyes were closed, her uniform torn; the bustier was almost completely gone, the star-spangled shorts had been cut away. Even in her self-protective position he could see the blood streaking her skin, the cuts and bruises. And, he realized, blood on the inside of her thighs – he had seen the signs too many times to be mistaken. Raped.
He wa to to throw up, but instead he channeled the sick sensation, fed it into the anger that sat just under it. Who had done this?
He approached her quickly, fell to his knees beside her still form, unconcerned with his own safety. If Diana knocked him back, he’d try again until she let him help her. If she was conscious enough to recognize him, then he was certain she’d allow him to pick her up, let him tend to her.
He tried to say her name, but it came out as a hoarse whisper. His throat was tight, and he deliberately forced himself to relax. He said her name again, this time louder.
Her eyelids fluttered, and she was on him before he could react, knocking him backward, her hand at his throat, pinning him to the ground. He heard the shouts of the cops behind him, but ignored them, focusing completely on the woman before him.
She held him down on his back, straddling him, her knees in the dirt on either side of his waist. Her eyes were wild, her lips drawn into a snarl, showing her teeth. His hands were free, but he didn’t try to reach his belt.
"Diana," he said, barely able to wheeze the word past the pressure on his throat. He said her name again before she could tighten her grip even more, cutting off even that method of reaching her.
Slowly, awareness entered her expression, and the wildness faded from her eyes. The pressure on his throat eased. "Batman?" Her voice was shaky, uncertain. "Is it really you? The real you?" She lowered her head close to his face, and he realized that she was smelling him, testing his odor.
The real you? He didn’t question that, just said, suddenly certain that it was imperative that she knew it was him, "It’s me, Diana. Really me. I told you to stay out of my city."
He watched as tears filled her eyes, and she lifted her hand from his throat to touch his cheek. "I wished it had been you," she said softly, then her eyes closed again and she collapsed onto his chest.
He listened to her breathing for just a moment before wrapping his arms around her and slowly sitting up, holding her limp form against him. He stood and put an arm under her knees, the other supporting her back, lifting her so that her head rested on his shoulder. He looked down at her and had to fight another wave of nausea. This close, he could see the deep cuts across her generous breasts and her firm stomach, the rawness and bite marks around her nipples and inner thighs, and he thought he could detect the distinct odor of burnt flesh mixed with the metallic odor of blood. Even though Diana had a high level of tolerance for torture, and resisted the hardest of blows with barely a bruise, she must have gone through an immense amount of pain.
"Get a blanket," he growled over his shoulder. She was probably going into shock, judging by the amount of trauma, and he didn’t want the officers to see the extent of her injuries, or more of her nakedness than necessary. He knew that Diana had no qualms about showing her nude form, but he didn’t think that she would want anyone to see her in this state.
Within seconds, Gordon was handing a blanket to him, and he wrapped it around Diana’s body, then carried her quickly past the waiting ambulance to the Batmobile. He placed her gently into the passenger seat, then jumped into his own.
"Oracle, have Alfred prepare the medlab. And get Leslie to the cave." As good as Alfred and he were at medical procedures, he wanted Leslie there for her expertise. He knew he could trust her.
"Understood. What is the extent of your injuries? Has Wonder Woman been contained?"
"She’s contained. Batman out," he said abruptly.
******************************
"Dr. Thompkins is only minutes away, sir," Alfred said.
"Meet her at the front of the manor." Bruce didn’t look up from his careful ministrations, trying to wash away the drying blood from the multiple cuts. Due to Diana’s Amazonian physiology and quick healing capabilities, she had already stopped actively bleeding, but if he pressed too hard the injuries would start to ooze again. He carefully daubed antiseptic into the bite marks around her nipples.
How many times, he wondered, had he imagined touching this woman intimately? How many times had he thought of how her breasts would feel in his hands, her nip in in his mouth, how she would taste? How many times had he awoken from dreams of burying his cock inside her? He’d always rationalized that no man could be around Diana without such fantasies popping up now and then – she was beautiful, sexy, strong.
But he couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to do this to her. Sexual violation – even the JLA’s worst enemies hadn’t stooped to that when Diana had been in their power. There was something inviolate about Diana that even the villains seemed to respect – she was beautiful, but she didn’t use that to her advantage; she was sensual, but didn’t consciously use her sexuality against men or women who were attracted to her.
Whoever had done this, then, must have had not only a personal grudge against Diana, but probably hated all women in general. Probably had a history of sexual assault, if not rape.
He heard Leslie enter the cave, Alfred trailing behind her. Leslie took one look at the form on the table, and Bruce watched as a carefully blank expression slipped over her face. Bruce had seen that expression more than once, on the faces of cops who had seen too many deaths and had to remove themselves from it – and in the mirror – far too many times. Despite Bruce’s cleaning, it was still obvious from the injury pattern that Diana had been beaten, slashed and raped – and since she ran a clinic in the poorer part of Gotham, Leslie was more familiar with those particular wounds than Bruce liked to think about.
Leslie’s voice was business-like as she said, "What was her condition when you found her?" She snapped on a pair of latex gloves. "And what have you done for her since then?"
Bruce listed aloud the small treatments he had given for the worst of the cuts and bites, and watched as Leslie examined the other wounds. She gently touched one of the raw patches on the inside of Diana’s thigh, and a small moan escaped Wonder Woman’s lips.
Leslie looked up. "These are electrical burns." She glanced at Diana’s face. "Is she sed?"ed?"
"I’m running a chemical analysis on her blood now," Bruce said. "I didn’t want to give her anything that might react with drugs that she may have already been given. She had needle marks on the inside of her elbow."
Leslie nodded. "When you get the results, let’s get her sedated, quickly. I don’t want her waking up in the middle of the examination. It’s probably going to be painful, and I wouldn’t like to be one the receiving end of an Amazon’s wrath."
A signal from one of the computers caught Bruce’s attention. He glanced over, and frowned. It was one of the emergency lines that he had to police headquarters.
Bruce hit the button that enabled the connection, audio only. "Commissioner," he said.
"Batman, we’ve received a video disc at headquarters that I think you should see." Gordon paused, as if waiting for Batman to speak, then continued, "It’s from Dock 18, and includes footage of…" Gordon trailed off, cleared his throat, "…Wonder Woman. It is graphic. And it contains a warning that he will send the video to every media outlet and Internet distributor on the East Coast by tomorrow night."
"What are his demands?"
"He doesn’t seem to have any, at least not yet. Although from the evidence on the disc, it’s not just Wonder Woman’s humiliation he he wants…but your identity." Gordon hesitated. "Batman, he is dressed in your costume in the entire video. He rapes and tortures Wonder Woman dressed up like you."
The real you. Diana’s words became sickeningly clear.
"Has anyone else seen this?"
"No. Once I realized what it was, I viewed it in private. Parts of it. I couldn’t watch…the end." Gordon’s voice softened. "How is she?"
"Getting medical attention. Where is the disc now?"
"In the DVD player in my office."
"I need a copy. Place the disc into your computer’s CD drive. I’ll contact you soon."
He opened a link to Oracle. "I need a copy of the video in Gordon’s computer drive. Also, create a program and virus that seeks out and destroys any copies of the video file that make it onto the Internet. Include e-mail transmissions."
"One B&E into the police computer system coming up. Video feed streaming to your system—Oh, my God."
"Turn off the video, Barbara." Bruce suddenly felt tired, and he sat back into his chair. He didn’t want to see the video, but knew it would be crucial to his investigation. "When it is done streaming, destroy any residual copies on your system."
Her voice was shaking. "I’ll need a copy for the seek and destroy program."
Bruce nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. Of course she would. "Acknowledged."
"Do you want me to contact anyone? Troia? Superman?"
Bruce closed his eyes. "Not yet." Not until after he knew exactly what had happened to her, not until he had a few answers to give. Not until Diana woke up. Then he would contact Diana’s sister, and a few members of the JLA, if that was what she wanted.
The video transfer completed a few seconds later, and he disconnected with Oracle. He wrote the file to a disc, pulled it out of the drive, and stood up.
"Sir, the chemical analysis is done," Alfred said. "We have a list of the drugs administered."
"A muscle relaxant, probably to keep her from fighting at full strength," Leslie said, "a truth serum similar to sodium pentothal, a hallucinogen, and an aphrodisiac." The doctor looked up from the list. "The first three drugs have nearly cleared her system, but the aphrodisiac…" Leslie shook her head in disbelief. "The levels in her bloodstream are still unbelievably high. She has enough in her to turn a herd of elephants into a rutting stampede. She shouldn’t even be alive, and she’s definitely lucky to be unconscious. The arousal would be torturous if she weren’t."
The bastard had wanted her to enjoy what he’d done, Bruce realized. "Can you safely administer the sedative that will enable you to examine her?"
"Yes." Leslie picked up one of the small bottles Bruce had laid out. "You know her physiology better than I – how much of a dose should I give her?"
"The whole thing," Bruce said. At Leslie’s gasp, he smiled grimly. "She’s Wonder Woman," he said by way of explanation. "I doubt that will make her sleep for more than five or six hours." He turned then, and strode into a small room he had built for maximum privacy – privacy even from Alfred, Dick or Robin. Alfred would ring an alert if Bruce was needed, but otherwise the room was cut off from the rest of the cave, and soundproofed.
He slid the disc into the player, sat down and pressed ‘play’.
The inside of the warehouse was dimly lit in the first shot. Bruce quickly compensated by maximizing the light, not willing to miss any possible clue. The room was empty except for a metal chair in the center, and a metal cart covered almost completely with a sheet. The floor was concrete, and Bruce noted that the chair was imbedded in the floor, as if the concrete had been poured around it. It took him only a second to realize what the chair had been designed for: sexual bondage.
A movement in the corner of the screen – Diana. She walked confidently into the warehouse, looking around expectantly. The dimness wouldn’t have bothered her, he knew. She could see well in all but the darkest conditions. On the opposite side of the room, a man in a bat costume appeared. WatchiBrucBruce’s fists clenched.
Diana saw him, smiled. "I got your message," she called, her voice echoing in the large room. She took a few steps forward, then frowned. "Batman?" She said the word hesitantly, and Bruce realized that she had noticed something different about the man. Her suspicions were confirmed when the man lifted a gun, and fired several shots quickly at her.
Diana blocked them easily. "What in Gaea’s name—" she coughed suddenly, and Bruce understood what had happened: instead of regular bullets, the man had used gas-filled capsules that had released their chemicals upon impact with her bracelets.
Diana took a few staggering steps, then fell forward.
The screen faded to black, and when the next scene appeared, Diana was in the chair.
************************
Five hours earlier:
Diana woke without opening her eyes, cataloguing everything around her first without alerting her captor that she was awake. She was tied to some kind of device, a chair. Her wrists were bound to the armrests, her legs spread wide and bound at the ankles and knees to extensions from the seat of the chair. The seat itself was too small – her buttocks hung over the edge. Even her neck was wrapped with some kind of rope—her lasso, she realized, holding her head immobile.
She tested her bonds experimentally, and realized that she couldn’t move at all. She pulled harder, and felt the chair beneath her hum slightly.
"It’s not even worth the effort," a voice said. Diana gritted her teeth, opening her eyes finally. Batman – or rather, a man dressed as him. This man had the costume, but not the same height, body musculature, or strong chin. "The chair you are in is specially designed to resist efforts of superstrength – even yours." He smiled at Diana’s glare. "It’s my little baby. A machine that uses inertia and gravity to counteract actions made in the chair. And, lucky me, I’ve got your unbreakable lasso to strap you into it."
Diana tried to fly upwards, out of the chair. It hummed even more strongly, and she didn’t move an inch. She grasped an armrest and tried to bend the metal.
"That won’t work, either. Every action you make against the chair is nullified. The energy you use is nullified." He stepped forward, and touched her straining arm. She tried to jerk it away from him, but couldn’t. "See?" he said triumphantly.
Realizing that her strength wouldn’t get her out of the chair, she stopped her efforts and watched him carefully. "What do you want from me?" She could guess, though, and the dread began building in her stomach. Her position in the chair was obviously designed for some kind of sexual play.
"Just a few answers," he said. "And a little fun while I get them." He reached out, touched one of her breasts.
She didn’t react, except to pin him with a deadly stare. "Dressed in a costume? You are a coward."
"No, this is just part of the fun," he said, and pulled at the metal breastplate covering the red material of her bustier. He slid the top down, exposing her. Her breasts were lightly bronzed, like the rest of her skin; the nipples dark pink and soft.
Diana ignored her nudity. "So you intend to rape me? Why not just ask me the questions, and see if I give the answer am am wrapped in the lasso, after all."
He plucked at one of her nipples, and frowned when it didn’t harden. "I could, but that would be too simple. In any case, I want to send a message."
"To whom?" Diana said. "Me? I’m in the position for a message now."
"No, you are in the position for something else," he said. He pinched the nipple, tinting the soft flesh. "And the message isn’t for you."
Diana narrowed her eyes, recalculating the reason for his costume. "For Batman, then."
"You truly have the wisdom of Athena, my dear," he said, and bent down, taking the nipple into his mouth. He swirled it with his tongue, then bit gently, and pulled away. It remained soft.
Diana smiled slightly. "You don’t expect me to become aroused, do you? You are raping me, something that I don’t enjoy at all, and I have complete control over my body’s reactions."
He clenched his jaw, then turned toward a metal cart next to the chair. Diana watched from the corner of her eye as he picked up a pair of scissors. She felt the cold blades against the skin of her thigh, and then he began cutting away the front of her panties. He pulled the material away from her pubis, and cut away the crotch completely.
He stared down at her exposed sex, and Diana could see the reaction of his penis under the tights. He reached forward, flicked a gloved finger over her clitoris.
Diana concentrated on feeling nothing. "You might as well just get it over with. You won’t be able to humiliate me by making me like this." She smirked. "Did you expect me to start begging you? You’ve read one too many fantasy stories about me online."
"Bitch," he muttered, and suddenly drove two fingers into her vagina. Diana watched impassively. It was uncomfortable due to her dryness, but not painful. Rage began to build within her; she started imagining what she would do with him when she got free.
He pumped his fingers within her for several minutes, continuing to flick and rub her clit. Finally, he withdrew his hands with a sound of disgust.
Diana smiled sweetly. "Finished?" she asked, although she knew that he wasn't. He was obviously upset because she hadn't gotten wet, but she held no illusions that he would give up his intentions to rape her. She just intended to make it as unsatisfying for him as possible.
"Not yet," he said, and turned to the cart again. "I had hoped not to resort to this, but you are being a very uncooperative, cold bitch."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," Diana said. She had seen some of the instruments on the cart, and began preparing herself for pain and torture -- knives, dildos, clamps and some items she didn't recognize covered the cart's surface.
It wasn't any of those items, but a syringe that he held when he returned to her side. His anger had receded, and he offered her another chilling smile. "This is my own concoction: something to make you relax, loosen up, and see things differently." He tapped the side of the tube, and squirted a bit of the liquid through the needle. "Not to mention be a little more appreciative of my efforts toward you."
"An aphrodisiac?" The rage in her intensified, but she kept her face expressionless, except for a sneer of derision. "To get me to like sex with you, you have to give me a drug with an aphrodisiac?"
"Among other things." He plunged the needle into her arm. "Something to help you tell the truth is in here, too."
"The lasso would do that," she said, at the same time trying to fight the heat she could feel entering her bloodstream. By the gods, even she needed time to process chemicals through her system.
He shrugged. "I like to have a little insurance." He withdrew the needle, placed it on the cart. "I'm going to leave you alone for a little while, while this starts to take effect."
Diana watched him go, then began struggling in earnest. The chair hummed under her, and after a few minutes she had to admit defeat. Her muscles felt warm and weak, as if she was becoming drunk, and around her, she could have sworn that the walls seemed to turn liquid. Hallucinogen, she reasoned.
And worse, her skin was prickling as if tiny, erotic fingers were massaging her entire body. She felt hot, then cold, and was acutely aware of the tiny air currents across her form.
She tried to ignore the sensations, and focus on thwarting whatever intentions the man had for her. She couldn't see a way of avoiding the rape, but she could, perhaps, stop him from finding out whatever information he planned to pry out of her.
Batman was the key -- he wanted to know something about Batman, or else he wouldn't have given her the truth serum. He could have sent his 'message' without that, if his intentions were simply rape.
"His identity," she whispered to herself, somehow sure that it was true. The room swam around her, and she closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on one thing: convincing herself that Batman was simply Batman, not Bruce Wayne.
Sad bad been the Goddess of Truth, and there was one thing about truth that Diana understood far better than anyone else on Earth: nearly any truth could be twisted. Even with the lasso around her and the drug in her veins, she was certain she could answer his questions about Batman truthfully without giving away his identity -- to a point.
She began the chant in her mind, even as the hallucinogen made her dizzy, and her nipples and clit began to swell with arousal. Bruce Wayne died with his parents. There is only Batman. Even without his mask, Batman is Batman. He just pretends to be Bruce Wayne. But he is only Batman. Batman is Batman, Bruce Wayne is dead.
She wanted to free her hands, slide them between her thighs. She tried to focus on Batman, kept running the chant through her head, but even as she did, she began to imagine him bent over her, his mouth on her nipples, his fingers buried inside her pussy. Hadn't she just experienced those things? she wondered, but couldn't quite remember.
Time passed, and she was caught in the endless loop of the chant and the memory of Batman's lips on her, fingers in her, wanting so much more. She opened her eyes, and everything was blurry, hazy, overwhelmed by the increased arousal in her body. In the back of her mind, she vaguely remembered that something was wrong, but she couldn't focus long enough to know what it was.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Batman walked through the door.
"Batman," she breathed. Diana licked her lips as he came toward her. He was…different, in some way, but she couldn't focus long enough to figure out the difference. "Help me," she whispered.
He smiled slightly, and she stared at his lips, wishing they were on her. "Help you, Wonder Woman? How would I do that?"
She frowned, confused, searching for the words. "I…need you."
He reached her side, and his smile broadened. "Need me to do what? Are you in pain?"
"No," she said. She looked at his hands. He could quench the fire running through her. "I need you to touch me."
"Who do you need to touch you?"
She bit her lip in frustration before answering, "You. Batman."
He chuckled. "That'll do, for a start." He looked down at her tight nipples, dark pink and flushed with desire. He flicked one with his finger, and she shivered as the sensation ran through her. Then he took both breasts in his hands, and she sighed in pleasure. Their tips stiffened even more, and her clit began to throb.
"Do you like that?" He ran his thumbs across the sensitive flesh of the tightly furled buds.
"Yes," she said. She found that she could move her pelvis, which hung from the edge of the chair's seat, and began to move her hips in time with the stroking of his thumbs.
He bent his head and took one nipple in his mouth, and she cried out in pleasure. His tongue swirled the hardened nub, then applied strong suction. He squeezed her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, gently.
"Oh gods, Batman," she breathed, "Long have I imagined you like this."
He raised his head, and she saw the spark of interest in his brown eyes. Brown eyes, not blue, and not covered by lenses, something in her mind noted, but she couldn't remember why it was important.
"Imagined me sucking on your magnificent breasts?" She nodded, and he said, "When do you imagine these things?" He punctuated the question with a lick to the underside of her nipple.
She moaned softly. "When we practice our fighting at the Watchtower. Other times, too. Aphrodite has sent me many dreams of you, when I am sleeping and when I wake."
"But we've never fulfilled your dreams, have we?" His hand slid down her stomach, and his finger brushed through the neatly trimmed curls at the apex of her thighs. She moved her hips up slightly, trying to force his fingers to make contact with her clit.
"No." She shook her head, thrust her hips upward again desperately. "We've never had sex."
"Even though you wanted to." His fingers swept across her clit, ever so lightly, but the touch was like fire on her overly aroused flesh.
She gasped, and felt the moisture between her thighs increase. "Yes, gods how I wanted to."
"Would you masturbate, Wonder Woman? Would you lie in bed and touch yourself here while you thought of me?" He cupped his hand over her sex, the heel of his hand grinding ever so gently against her clit.
"Yes," she cried the word. "Please, Batman…"
"Please, what?" He slid a finger past her throbbing clit. "Touch you like you used to touch yourself? Did you put your fingers inside yourself?"
"Yes," she admitted, and moaned when he slipped a finger into her.
"God, your pussy is so wet for me, Wonder Woman. Was it wet like this when you thought of me before?" He added a second finger, began to thrust them in and out.
She moved with him. "Yes."
He moved around the side of the chair, positioning himself between her legs without breaking the rhythm of his hand. She closed her eyes, let the exquisite pleasure of his fingers fucking her wash over her. They flew open when she felt the touch of his tongue on her clit.
"Oh, gods," she whispered. "Yes, please…more."
He lifted his head, a surprised expression in his eyes. "You taste like…honey."
"All Amazons do," she said, then pleaded, "Please, Batman, lick me again."
His head dipped, and he drew his tongue down her wet slit, stopping only where his fingers entered her dripping pussy. He trailed his tongue back up, his lips enclosing her engorged clit, his tongue flicking and swirling around it. He pushed his fingers inside her deeper, moved them faster.
"That's so good," she whimpered, and she felt an orgasm approaching. Her entire being seemed centered around her clit, the roughness of his tongue, the smooth glide of his fingers.
And then he stopped, and she looked down in protest to see him straighten, pulling down the front of his tights. His cock was erect, jutting out from a clean-shaven pelvis, his balls hanging heavily underneath. He was, she judged, about six or seven inches long -- average length and width for a man.
She stared at his erection, trying to imagine it inside her. And, despite her arousal, she felt a sudden reluctance that she couldn’t explain. She wanted him, didn’t she? She was on fire for him. "Batman, I don't think we should do this," she said.
He pressed forward, and rubbed the head of his cock against her clit. "I thought you wanted this, dreamed about this? Didn't you say you wanted me?" He lowered the shaft, slipped just the head inside her pussy.
She moaned, but something inside her forced her to continue, "Yes, but not like this."
"Then how? Deeper?" He thrust forward an inch, and despite herself, she raised her hips to meet him, to urge him further.
"No…yes." He slipped another inch deeper as she spoke. He leaned forward and licked her nipple, and pressed forward again, until he came upon a barrier. She moaned in pleasure, in protest.
He stopped, frowned, then moved his hips back and forth as if testing. Understanding spread over the visible part of his face, his eyes, and he laughed aloud. "You are a virgin, aren't you?"
e noe nodded, torn between the demands of her body and the unspecified feeling of something…wrong. "Batman, please st--"
Her words ended on a cry of pain as he slammed forward, tearing her hymen forcefully. He gripped her thighs and pulled back, staring down at her body.
Her gorgeous breasts swayed as she breathed heavily, the dark nipples tight and pouting against the tanned skin. His hands were on her taut, muscular thighs, the calves encased in her red and white boots. Her lips were moist with pleasure, her eyes glazed with confusion and desire. The ruin of her costume lay over her abdomen, and as he looked down, he could see the head of his own cock spreading the lips of her wet cunt, the juices of her pussy covering and lubricating the shaft. And, he noted with pleasure, the blood of her virginity.
The pain of his entry quickly faded, to be replaced by pleasure as he pushed forward again, and Diana moaned aloud. She hadn't ever had anything larger than her own fingers inside her, and the feeling of his much larger cock sliding into her made her thrust her hips up, trying to get him still deeper. His hands slid up her thighs and grasped her hips, and he pushed forward to the hilt of his cock, his balls rng ang against the curve of her buttocks.
Her pussy was incredibly tight around his throbbing shaft, and he ground his teeth together to keep from coming instantly. This wasn't all pleasure for him: he had a job to do, too. He began thrusting back and forth, his pace excruciatingly slow. Beneath him, Wonder Woman's hips raised and bucked, and she cooed softly in erotic pleasure.
"Do you like this?" he said. With one gloved hand, he reached down and rubbed her clit in time with his slow thrusts. "Who's fucking you, Wonder Woman?"
"You are, Batman," she cried. "Gods, it feels so good."
He began increasing the tempo, her pussy massaging his cock in its tight grip. "Whose cock is inside your cunt? Who's the only man who's had his cock in your tight little pussy?" His hands were on her hips, pulling himself deep into her. The slippery sounds of their fucking filled the room, her sensual gasps and moans. "Who?" he demanded.
His voice penetrated the erotic fog over her brain. All she could feel was the sensation of his cock driving into her. Tension coiled within her, and her muscled tightened as her body prepared to come. "Batman..."
"No!" He pistoned into her, slamming himself against her, ever harder. "Say my name!"
…Batman is Batman…
"Batman!" she screamed as she fell over the edge, her pussy muscles milking the length of his cock. He kept shafting into her cunt, savoring the exquisite feel of her strong inner contractions on his throbbing length, drawing out her orgasm.
He continued thrusting slowly as she quieted, her eyes closed and an erotic smile on her full lips. Reaching up, he twisted her left nipple cruelly.
Pain and pleasure combined and shot through her, settling in her still throbbing clitoris. Her vaginal walls continued to flutter with minor contractions as he fucked her slowly. She opened her eyes to look at him, her vision still blurry. He took her right nipple in his other hand, and pinched it hard.
She whimpered even as her nipples tightened with further arousal, and her clit throbbed in anticipation of his touch.
"You just came, and you are still horny for me, aren't you, Wonder Woman? You want me to fuck you again already."
She sighed and moved slowly with the tempo of his cock, loving the feel of it sliding into her. "Yes."
"Then say my name, and I'll fuck you harder." He demonstrated with a deep, swift thrust. "Tell me my real name," he added. "I want to hear it on your slutty lips. Use my name, and ask me to fuck you harder."
…Batman is just pretending to be Bruce Wayne…
She writhed in frustration as his hands on her stilled, and his hard penis came to rest just inside her vaginal lips, barely within her. "Please…Batman…"
His hand struck her across the face with a sharp smack. It didn't hurt her superhuman flesh, but she looked at him in surprise. Even with her blurry, wavery vision she could tell he was angry.
"Batman, I don't know what you…" She broke off, crying out as he grabbed her breasts in a punishing grip, squeezing them with all his strength.
He eased the pressure, and a smile twisted his lips. "When I don’t wear my mask, I have a name…I want you to call me by that name. Who am I without the mask, Wonder Woman? The lasso will force you to tell the truth."
**********************
Bruce leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the action on the screen. He had an aching erection but he ignored it, focusing on Diana’s face as the man in the Batsuit asked for his – Bruce’s – real name. How could she resist? he wondered. Diana was by nature the most truthful person that he knew – he was surprised that she hadn’t given away his identity before now, during the rape. With her mind clouded by drugs and the lasso binding her to the chair, he wouldn’t have thought she’d be able to thwart the rapist this long – but she had. Somehow, in the midst of everything, she had been able to keep Bruce’s identity a secret. But with such a direct question?
The man repeated himself. "Who am I without the mask?" He slapped her again, and Bruce flinched, although he knew that it probably hadn’t hurt her.
Diana’s eyebrows drew downward in confusion and hurt. "You are Batman without the mask." He slapped her again, and her eyes filled with tears. "Why are you trying to hurt me, Batman? We are friends."
Bruce suddenly understood how she was keeping his secret, while at the same time telling the truth. She had somehow convinced herself that there was only Batman, no Bruce Wayne. It showed in the careful wording of her answers – her words were the truth. He was Batman without the mask – many of Bruce Wayne’s activities were functions of his role as Batman – so she wasn’t lying. She just was twisting the truth slightly, making it fit her needs. He wondered if she was even conscious of doing it.
He didn’t think so – it was clear that the hallucinogen had clouded her mind sufficiently to make her believe that the real Batman was with her – it didn’t allow her to think clearly enough to see the differences between her rapist and Bruce and realize what those differences meant.
He felt sick at the thought, and the erection that had swelled during the rape slowly began to soften. When she woke up, he wondered, would she know that it hadn’t been him, or would some part of her mind always remember Batman as her rapist?
The rape itself had been, he hated to admit, incredibly erotic. As much as he had tried to distance himself and his emotions from what was happening onscreen, and despite his disgust for what was happening to Diana, her soft cries, the image of the man in the Batsuit pumping in and out of Wonder Woman had made his cock involuntary hard. As had her admission that she’d masturbated while thinking about him previously.
Yet she had been a virgin, he thought, and the rage within him intensified. Her first time should never have been like this – she shouldn’t have ever had to experience rape, but as her first sexual experience especially. He wished now, knowing that she had desired him too, that he had acted on his own sexual feelings toward her, had given her a memory of a first time that didn’t include rape.
But now, he realized, it was doubtful that she would ever want him to touch her again, even non-sexually. How could she completely separate what her memory thought Bruce had done?
Onscreen, the rapist was licking her nipples again, and Diana was making those erotic sounds of pleasure that had Bruce’s cock lengthening again. Did she have any idea how unbelievably sexy she was?
He shook his head suddenly. He couldn’t think about such things – he needed to focus on what was being said, the clues that were being left, so that he could narrow down the rapist’s identity.
"You want my name, you bastard," he muttered, "but your need to show the world your conquest of Diana is exactly what will give me yours."
The man was talking again. "So we are friends, Wonder Woman?" He slid his fingers into her vagina. The camera angle changed, giving Bruce a close up of Diana’s wet sex, the fingers pumping in and out of her. The video had several close up shots like that, which meant that the man had purchased specialized video equipment and had it installed, set up specifically before Diana had arrived to get certain shots.
Another nail in the rapist’s coffin, Bruce thought. Tracking down purchases like that would take time, but would be yet another marker pointing to his identity.
"Yes, we are friends," Diana gasped as his fingers strummed her clit.
"How do you feel about me?" He bent and licked her clitoris. "God, I could eat this pussy all day. It is so unbelievably sweet." He swept his tongue down, and thrust it into her vagina. She moaned, and he lifted his head to ask again, "How do you feel about me?"
"You are strong…and brilliant," she breathed the words as he continued fucking her with his tongue. "And courageous. You are one of the most disciplined and best warriors I’ve ever met, and you are gentle and compassionate. Oh, gods…like that, Batman," she cried as he returned to her clitoris.
He looked up. "It sounds as if you love me," he said.
Diana lifted her hips as if seeking his mouth again. "Of course I love you, you are my friend," she said, her voice filled with frustration. "Hera, and how I want you."
His eyes were calculating. "Are you in love with me?"
Bruce held his breath, watching the confusion flit over Diana’s face. "I…don’t know. I think I could be, but…" Her voice trailed off sadly.
"But what?" he urged.
"You will never let yourself love me, open up to me. You would never let it work, or let yourself be happy," she said.
The man stood, some kind of triumph lighting his expression. He leaned over Diana. "What if I told you, Wonder Woman, that I could destroy your love for me?"
She shook her head. "There’s nothing you could do. I know you."
His voice changed, filled with hatred. "You know nothing of me," he ground out between gritted teeth. "And unless you tell me what I want to know, you will end up hating me very, very much."
Bruce’s hands clenched into fists. So this was where the bastard had been going this entire time – arousing Diana, making her open her heart to him, and now the torture was going to begin, Bruce was sure of it.
"I don’t understand what you want to know!" Diana cried out. "I will tell you, if you ask."
"I want you to tell me Batman’s real name," he yelled, his voice reverberating in the empty warehouse.
"It’s Batma—"
He grabbed an iron pipe from the cart, hit her across the face with it. Her head jerked to the side, her lip splitting open.
In his room, Bruce jumped up from his chair, every muscle in his body tense and shaking with rage.
"It’s Bat—" She tried to say again, but he hit her a second time, this time across her breasts. She didn’t make a sound, just stared at him with wide, glassy eyes. "Batman, why are you doing this?"
The man put the pipe down, and remained with his back turned from her for a few moments while he controlled his breathing. Finally, he looked up at the camera, and grinned. He picked up another item from the cart, and while Bruce looked on in helpless rage and horror, strapped it on above his own erect cock. He then picked up another syringe.
He turned back to Diana, plunged the needle into her arm. "Just a little more aphrodisiac for you." He glanced down at the artificial phallus jutting out from his pelvis. "I think you’ll need it to enjoy taking this baby in."
Diana looked at the dildo, shook her head. "It’s too big, Batman," she said. The phallus was huge, thirteen inches in length, two inches wide at the head, increasing to almost four inches along the shaft. Its flesh colored surface was covered with small knobs and bumps.
"And probably a bit rough," he said, voice cheerful. "But you wanted me to fuck you again, didn’t you?"
"Yes, but not…" Her voice broke as he flicked her clit with his finger. "Not with that," she finished breathily.
"It’s probably going to hurt," he agreed. "I can’t help that, but I promise you’ll enjoy it." He picked up another small item, held it up for her. It was a small clamp in the shape of a bat. "I designed it myself." He placed it over her clit, and her hips bucked as it put painful pressure on the engorged flesh. He flicked a tiny switch on it, and Diana moaned as it began to send vibrations through her clitoris.
He watched her impassively for a few moments as she writhed on the chair, reaching down past the dildo to stroke his cock. "Something’s missing," he said finally. He picked up two more clamps, put them on her nipples, enjoying her gasp of pain.
Stepping between her widely spread legs, he ignored her tortured whisper. "No, Batman…please." With two fingers, he spread the lips of her pussy, exposing the slick, pink flesh. She had been incredibly tight around his average cock, he knew, and wondered how she would take the huge phallus within her even as he pressed forward.
The camera gave Bruce a close up view of the enormous head of the dildo sliding past Diana’s vaginal lips, into her moist entrance. He could see the delicate flesh stretching wide around the monster cock, heard her moan that was almost pure pleasure. The man stopped only three inches inside, just before the dildo’s dramatic increase in size from two to nearly four inches wide. "How does that feel, Wonder Woman?"
"Full," the word burst from her lips. The cock felt perfect inside her, filling her to the point of pain but not beyond, the friction of his entry combined with the vibrating clamp on her clit driving her almost to orgasm.
"Say my name, the name you know I want to hear," he said.
"Batman," she said, and he thrust forward hard. She screamed in agony as the cock pushed three inc inches inside. He pulled back, and rammed inside her again, stopping six inches deep, her pussy lips stretched impossibly wide around the dildo, her vaginal muscles protesting in pain.
He stopped there, and waited. The clamp on her clit continued to vibrate, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the pain became indistinguishable from the pleasure, until the second, massive dose of aphrodisiac overwhelmed any other sensation, turning it into erotic bliss.
The tip of his own penis rested against her buttocks, and he reached down, sliding it up and down the crack of her ass, collecting her pussy juices on the tip. He considered lubricating his shaft briefly, but decided that a little more pain would be an additional incentive to her telling him Batman’s name.
Within moments, her hips were moving again, trying to ride the huge cock within her. He smiled. She was sweating, flushed with arousal and pain, eyes closed as she concentrated on the cock inside her, her full bottom lip between her perfect teeth.
"Do you want more, Wonder Woman?"
She nodded, and he pushed inside further. Her mouth opened on a gasp of erotic agony, then her eyes flew open as she felt the tip of his cock against her pert anus. "No…Batman…"
The name enraged him, and he pushed forward with all his strength until his entire length was inside, moaning at the unbelievably tight asshole that surrounded his cock, the sound of his pleasure mixing with her screams. The dildo slammed forward, plowing past her cervix and ripping into her womb, all thirteen inches completely inside her.
"Gods, no!" she cried out as he pulled out until the head of his cock rested at the opening of her anus, the quick motion incredibly painful in her unlubricated ass, the rough surface of the dildo scraping the sensitive tissues inside her cunt. He rammed her again, and she screamed his name – the name he hated. He reached down for a moment and increased the vibration on her clit, then began grinding against her, fucking her in hard, deep strokes.
Tears of pain and confusion streaked her cheeks even as she began moving her hips with him, unable to control the unbearable arousal and pleasure in her body.
She came suddenly, and he felt the spasms of her muscles around his cock, her thighs shaking under his hands. Her head tossed from side to side, and he began fucking her harder, his entry into her ass easier with each stroke – whether from blood or her dripping pussy juices he didn’t know, or care. He leaned forward and grasped her tits in his hands, twisting the nipple clamps to increase her pain.
She screamed and came again, and this time he felt the inevitable beginning of his own orgasm. He reamed her mercilessly, bending down to take her clamped nipple into his mouth, biting into the sensitive flesh of the areola, and her sound of pain excited him further, triggering the spurts of cum that barreled down his turgid length and into her ass.
"Ah, God," he groaned as he came, pressing himself deep within her. He slowly slipped out of her, pulling the huge dildo roughly from her vagina, and she whimpered softly.
Bruce had to force himself not to close his eyes against the sight of the blood covering the dildo and the man’s penis, or the smear of it on the insides of Diana’s muscular thighs. He wanted to throw up, and he knew that it still wasn’t over.
The rapist staggered back from between Diana’s legs, turned off the vibrator and unstrapped the massive dildo, throwing it on the ground. He chuckled as he pulled his tights up over his now-flaccid cock. Diana watched him with – Bruce noted – eyes that weren’t as glazed as before.
He patted her cheek. "That was easily the best fuck I’ve ever had."
"I’m glad you enjoyed it," Diana said, her voice hard.
The man frowned a little, looking at her carefully. "You enjoyed it, too."
"Yes. How could I not?"
He smiled, and said, "Exactly." He sighed dramatically. "But, playtime’s over. I need answers, one way or another." He took a device from the cart, held it up. It was shaped not unlike a machine gun, except the tip of the barrel was smooth and thick, and rounded at the tip. "It’s a modified cattle prod."
He put the tip of the barrel against her forearm, and pulled the trigger. A crackle of electricity jumped from the device. Diana tried to jerk her arm away, but the lasso held her firmly to the chair. She gritted her teeth. When he released the trigger, Bruce could see the burn on her arm.
"Hurts, doesn’t it?" He didn’t wait for her answer, and continued, his voice harsh, "Imagine how it will feel when I stick this into your tight little cunt."
"Unless I tell you Batman’s name?" she said.
He smiled again. "Exactly. So tell me, what is my name?"
"I don’t know." Diana smiled back, as if her lip were not split, nor blood dripping from her raped vagina. "You are a disgusting criminal dressed in a Batman costume."
His eyes widened in surprise, but he only laughed. "So the hallucinogen wore off that quickly? My calculations must not have been correct." He shook his head, as if amused. "It doesn’t matter. Even if you don’t think that I am Batman, the lasso will still force you to answer the questions I ask truthfully. And, I know that the aphrodisiac is still in full effect." He reached forward and turned the small vibrator back on, and Diana’s lips firmed as she visibly fought the sensation.
"You know," he said conversationally, "it’s going to be very entertaining to watch as you try not to come while I fuck you with this, then scream as I shock you inside your sweet pussy. I imagine that it will be especially painful, since your cunt is so wet."
Diana didn’t say a word, didn’t take her eyes off him as he slid the barrel of the prod inside her, began thrusting it back and forth. Her body shook as she tried to fight the effects of the drug that made her want to moan and ride the metal rod.
"You just have to tell me his name," he said gently, and pulled the trigger.
Every muscle in her body tensed, but she didn’t scream or change expression. He increased the tempo of his thrusts, impaling her deeply until he could feel the spasms from her orgasm reverberate down the length of the metal.
She didn’t make a sound as she came, nor when he shocked her again.
He sighed, and moved the tip of the prod to her abused anus. "This is going to be a long night," he said.
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The Real You