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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
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Bruce opened the door to his private room nearly two hours later, his face drawn and pale, his eyes rimmed with red. When the rapist had tired of electrocuting her, he'd strapped the dildo on again and viciously raped her a second time and third time, biting and then using a knife over her torso, forcing her to orgasm again and again.
She hadn’t made another sound the entire time, except when she was compelled by the lasso to answer the rapist’s questions. Somehow, she had managed to repeat the same thing – "Batman" – each time, despite the increasing specificity of the questions, the variety of tortures that he put her through.
Bruce knew what he owed her for her cleverness, her twisting of the truth. And he knew he could never repay her. But he would catch the man for her, and he would look the other way at anything she did to her rapist apart from killing him.
Not that he would, he thought, blame her for that.
Bruce still didn't know how Diana had escaped; the video had only lasted until she had finally passed out from blood loss, pain and the effect of the drugs on her system. Then the bastard had recorded a message for Batman, staring into the camera while Diana had lain bloodied and unconscious in the chair behind him:
You destroyed my life, Batman, and one way or another I'll destroy yours. Do you really think that she'll be able to look at you again after this? And to think, she loved you. That had been an unexpected bonus for me -- you took away my love, I'll take yours. But, the fact remains that I didn't get the information I wanted from her -- so, to get some additional pleasure and humiliation out of you, I am going to make sure every media outlet in the east gets this video, as well as every Internet site that might be interested in seeing America's favorite heroine riding my cock. Only, the public will just see you, the Bat, raping Wonder Woman.
Alfred looked up at him from beside Diana’s bed in the medlab as Bruce came in, noted his employer’s expression, and quietly handed him the chart Leslie had made up. The doctor was dozing lightly in the chair next to Alfred’s, and woke at the sound of Bruce flipping through the pages on the clipboard.
"She should rest throughout the night, Bruce," Leslie said, her voice quiet. "She’s healing quickly on her own, but there is a list of injuries on the second page—"
"I saw her receive her injuries on the video," Bruce interrupted softly, and put down the chart. He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Did you get a viable semen sample?"
Leslie shook her head. "Whatever caused the electrical burns inside her compromised the integrity of the samples," she said. "Also there were no hairs from him on her skin or clothing, nor skin samples under her fingernails."
"He tied her hands down," Bruce said, and looked away from the doctor, trying to ease the constriction in his throat. Diana slept quietly on the bed, her face serene. He prayed that she would barely remember what he’d seen, but knew that even under the influence of drugs her memory was too good, and her mind too sharp for her to forget.
"We did get a small saliva sample from one of the bites," Leslie said. "And a tooth pattern."
"The saliva will be enough if it comes to trial, but the bite patterns will help seal a conviction." He examined Diana's face as he spoke, and her arms which were uncovered by the light blanket. The burn marks had almost completely faded, and bandages covered her other wounds. "How is she healing?"
"Quickly," Leslie said. "At this rate, I expect that by late tomorrow, all but the worst of the knife injuries will be completely closed. Some of the shallower cuts had already scabbed over and new skin was developing when I arrived."
"And the drug levels?"
"There's almost no trace of the anything but the aphrodisiac, and that remains at high levels." Leslie hesitated, then added, "If she wakes before it leaves her system, she's going to be in considerable…discomfort. She'll be driven to self-gratification or seek release in other ways, which, after a traumatic rape, can be both physically and mentally painful. Physically, because her genitals have been severely abused -- although she may have healed by that time -- and mentally because it will seem like the rapist is continuing to control her. She might hate herself for feeling aroused, or masturbating, because it'll be like another part of the rape. You may want to keep her sedated until the levels are quite a bit lower."
Bruce frowned. He knew Diana well enough to know that she would want to be alert as soon as possible, to confront whatever faced her and to start investigating the rape. She wouldn't accept physical pain as a reason for continued sedation, no more than he would. And, he thought, she'd probably prefer to fight the aphrodisiac than run away from its effects. "We'll let her wake up," he said.
Alfred cleared his throat. "Sir, if I may, I'd like to suggest moving Miss Diana upstairs."
Bruce's eyebrows drew together. "Into the Manor?"
"She'll be more comfortable, sir. And her surroundings will be more…relaxing." He stared pointedly upwards, where the ceiling of the cave glowered darkly over them. "Industrial lights and stone walls will not be as comforting as a warm bed and private room."
Leslie nodded in agreement. "A warm atmosphere may help assuage the initial feelings of discomfort and fear that she could experience upon waking."
Bruce weighed the chances of anyone discovering Wonder Woman in Wayne Manor, the probability of Diana waking in a violent state, and his odds of winning in this argument against the combined talents and wills of Leslie and Alfred.
Finally, he assented. "Put her in my room," he said. "It's the most secure." Then, realizing that Alfred would not be able to simply 'put' Diana in his room, he leaned forward, sliding one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders, and lifted her easily from the bed. Leslie had dressed her in a standard, short hospital gown with a back, and his hands met bare skin where he touched her legs. They were warm and smooth, and he let himself savor that simple contact as he carried her up the stairs to the Manor.
Her head rested on his shoulder, her eyes closed, her breathing deep and even. Her hair tumbled down over his arm like black silk. A few strands were caught in her eyelashes, and he blhem hem gently off her face so that they wouldn't tickle or bother her in her sleep.
He carried her down the long corridor to his bedroom, his footsteps silent in the plush carpeting. She sighed deeply in her sleep and moved against his chest; he watched her face for signs that she was waking, but found none. The movement stretched the nightgown tight against her breasts for an instant, and he noted that under the material, her nipples were pebbled and hard -- an effect of the aphrodisiac still in her bloodstream.
He pushed open the door with foo foot, and entered the room, heading directly for the bed. Alfred rushed past him without ever seeming to break from his dignified stride, turning down the bedcovers. Bruce placed her in the bed, and pulled the covers over her, watching her face for signs of wakefulness or pain.
She continued sleeping, and he turned to Alfred. "Let me know when the sedative begins to wear off," he said.
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The Real You