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The Games that Gods Play	By : Ristul Category: DC Verse Comics > Wonder Woman Views: 16896 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Wonder Woman,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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Deception is the essence of warfare.
-General Dadire Sacrist
Ramon hissed in pain as a medic reset his broken left arm with a splint, the break in his upper arm evident. He was so tired he could only grunt and use the healing techniques he had learnt to numb the pain.
“Not too bad. You’ll heal.” Phillip Delacroix said, placing a cup of water within reach of Ramon’s right hand. His voice was cold, serious. The Black Lion was on the warpath, and woe betide any who stand in his way. “Report.”
Ramon sighed. He knew when he had signed up with Phillip that the path was brutal beyond measure, and it didn’t help that Phillip was a heartless commander. “We were on recon twenty klicks out when we came across one of their forward patrols. They outnumbered us by quite a bit, so I ordered a quarter of my men to report back, since that was our job.”
“We fought for about three minutes, five minutes tops, before they disengaged. I got hit bad and landed wrongly on the ground. We lost fifteen men, and killed twenty of the enemy.”
“Good exchange. What else did you find out?”
“They were pretty good. They were certainly better than the men of the two armies we’ve faced so far. Tough, disciplined, smart. They withdrew in good order, as though they had what they wanted and didn’t want to risk any more.”
Phillip nodded, “Okay, well done. You’re out of the next one. Use the time to get rested and healed up.”
“Really?” With the rest of the armies mobilized, they now had about sixty thousand men, but the enemy force numbered more than eighty thousand, not counting Mayse’s survivors. The odds, as usual, suck, though Phillip seemed certain of the outcome already.
Ramon had been running forward recon for the past two weeks, and he was growing comfortable in his position as a leader, though the enormity of his role would come crashing down on him every time he was forced to write letter of condolences to the kin of men who died under his command. The learning curve was fatally steep, and he was beginning to lose sleep worrying over the next battle, the next skirmish.
Phillip fixed him with a stare. “You thought I would ask you to ride a horse with a broken arm and bruises all over your face? I’m not that cruel, and we’re not that desperate.”
“That’s a comfort.” Ramon wanted to add something else, but Phillip had already walked away.
Hmmm, I wonder what he’ll think when I tell him Giresias and the guys are studying the Book of Paths. Ramon chuckled grimly to himself just before he fell back into sleep. He’ll flip.

Phillip looked at the gathered lords and princes of the remaining free lands, all showing on their faces the strain of their enormous gamble, placing their armies under his command in a bid to stave off the Nepherian invasion. They all had reports of the strength of the enemy army, which was significantly greater than the combined might of their own, and comprised of veterans, which Ramon’s skirmish had confirmed.
Mayse and the battered survivors of the second army had been sent off about three days ago. He remembered the young officer’s parting words.
“This army you’ll be facing is unlike the previous ones, General. They’ll not break as easily, nor will they fall for your traps. They’ll certainly have brought along enough supplies, and they’ll be coming after you hard and fast.”
“Are you worried for me, or for them? I think you are worried that I’ll crush them as I did the previous armies.”
Mayse sighed. “To tell the truth, I don’t know. I wish all this fighting would stop. But since I can’t do a damn thing either way, I’ll just do my duty. Fighting and dying.” He looked at Phillip, and offered his hand, “May your sword be sharp.”
Phillip shook the hand in a firm grasp. “I’m indeed honored to have known you. And if we ever face each other blade to blade, do not hold back, for no matter what happens, we will meet again in the shining fields when the day of judgment comes.”
Mayse smiled widely as he walked off, “Hah! But I’ll not be captured by you again!”
A shout brought his attention back to the present. Some of the lords were arguing about the placement of their various forces, and many were adamant that their own forces not be exposed to the greatest danger. The only exceptions were the Eckians, who had proven their ability to fight far outstripped their meager numbers, and the men of the Island of men, slowly but surely becoming the feared fighting force Ares had always intended them to be.
Phillip wished he had more troops like them. He observed the bickering for another few minutes. He looked at Jake, Morgan, and Joshua, who all stared blankly back, expecting him to do something about it. Phillipus looked bored, though he thought he detected just the slightest tinge of annoyance on her dark, exotic face. The other few Amazons present all looked tense and smug at the same time, as though vindicated in their belief about the stupidity of men.
Listening to the lords quarrelling without end, Phillip had to agree with them.
“That is enough, my lords.” His voice cut in smoothly. “I thank all of you for bringing to our attention the various problems facing us, as well as your invaluable contributions to the discussion. However, we are pressed for time, and the enemy is near. Decisions must be made, and made quickly.”
“He is right.” Phillipus spoke up for the first time. “We cannot tarry for long. We must stand united.” She walked up and held up several sticks. She broke one of the sticks easily. “Singly, we are weak.” She placed several sticks together, and applied her strength to the bundle. This time, they did not break. “United, we are strong.” The lords looked at each other, awed by the presence and strength of the woman, who they had initially dismissed as nothing more than a high class whore in armor.
The Lion of Ares walked forward. “Correct. Almost. Except for one detail.” His sword flashed out, faster than their eyes could follow. The bundle of sticks Phillipus was holding parted. “They’re united too, but a sharp enough blade will still cut through them.”
“What do you propose?” Tesin asked.
Phillip smiled as he saw Mala and Stanley enter the meeting hall, looking none the worse for wear, reporting just in time the completion of the task he had set out for them a month ago. “A simple sleight of hand.”

It was a terrible day. Clash after clash took place in the hills and the valley they overlooked, as both sides struggled for position. The free armies had taken up defensive positions on the hills, and stubbornly refused to budge, even after wave after wave of Nepherian assaults, backed by the awesome power of their champions. They backed away one by one after extracting the highest possible cost from their attackers, while the Islanders were held in reserve for the decisive moment.
The battle had started in the morning, and raged into the afternoon. Soldiers on both sides had never seen anything like the present slaughter. The Nepherians attacked through maneuver, wearing them down through attrition, while the free armies took a high toll through their use of emplaced artillery. Smoke and the cries of men drifted through the air, obscuring vision and orders alike. Men, caked with mud and blood, marched with shell shocked faces to their next new position, then fought with robotic movements, too tired and numbed to try anything to break the bloody monotony.
The cavalry fought their own vicious battle of cut-and-thrust, effectively neutralizing each other. They would not decide the battle.
Jamisri looked out at the remaining hilltops in front of him. There was one way to end the battle once and for all, and he was finally in sight of it. Phillip Delacroix’s banner, with the rampant black lion on a blue background, fluttered amongst the massed ranks of soldiers. He estimated almost ten thousand men on that hilltop, the only element of the free armies not engaged in battle yet, within striking reach of his remaining forces. One good push, and it would all be over.
Something in the back of his mind warned of caution, but Jamisri had enough. Two more of his fellow champions had already fallen, and the entire campaign of the past month had claimed more dead soldiers than all the campaigns of the past decade combined. He was tired of the continued insolence of Delacroix.
Thirty thousand troops, the cream of the Nepherian army, marched on the banner. They easily brushed aside the deflecting attacks from the remnants of the free armies that stood in their way. Nothing stood between them and victory now. Jamisri shouted in exultation. This was his hour of triumph!
That triumph turned to ashes when the armored troops on the hilltop braced their shields against his attack, while more than ten thousand soldiers suddenly appeared on his flanks, boxing in his army. Jamisri could not believe it. Everything he had managed to find out indicated that the free armies only had a total of slightly more than sixty thousand men, and fifty thousand of them had been accounted for on the previous hilltops and the separate cavalry battle. Where had all the extra men come from?
Jamisri felt as a cold chill when he saw that many of the soldiers on the hill had long hair, and all of them moved with an awkward gait. Women!
He had been charging the elite of his army at women?
“To the flanks!” He shouted, thinking of the women as mere diversions. A minute later, he was proven wrong again, when they finally came crashing down from the slopes of the hill, their momentum splintering the army he had so painstakingly raised in Clea’s name. The weapons they wielded were as potent as in the hands of men, and the sight of their comrades dying at the hands of females thoroughly demoralized the Nepherians.
Reports swarmed in to Jamisri of assaults all around his force, and his men panicked, losing their drilled cohesion in favor of blindly striking out for safety. His disciplined army began to dissolve under the relentless pressure.
Jamisri saw a tall man wielding two bloody swords approach him. “You… you are the Black Lion.”
The man nodded. “I am.”
“Then die.” Jamisri streaked towards Delacroix, only to find his blade slicing through empty air, then cold silver flashing across his eyes for an instant before pain engulfed his throat.
He was too dead to hear his killer. “Better men than you have tried.” The King of Pain turned away, seeking more of Clea’s champions to die upon his swords.

“Woohoo!” Mala screamed as she rode her fierce mare into the thick of the action, Stanley seated behind her hanging on for dear life.
“Ease off, Mala, ease off!” shouted Stan.
“We’ve been missing out on the fun for the past few weeks, and you want to ease off?” Mala enjoyed ribbing the timid Duke of Deception.
“You call this fun?” Stan glanced around them at the hordes of newly trained female warriors charging forward and shrieking in what he knew to be equal parts fear and exhilaration.
“Hang on!” Mala shouted in warning, as they plunged into a group of enemies. Stan instinctively used his power of deception, projecting the women as bigger and more powerful than they actually were. The psychological effect was stunning, as several Nepherians actually put down their weapons and attempted to run away, enabling the women warriors to get in some cheap and easy kills, further bolstering their confidence.
Mala was not idle either, smashing aside men with her sword. Within moments the Nepherians were in full rout, shouting to their comrades for retreat.
Stan could not believe it. Phillip’s crazy plan of recruiting able-bodied female volunteers from the surrounding lands had actually worked. Mala had never expressed any doubt though, and she and her fellow Amazons had quickly instilled the basics of fighting into the female volunteers. Stan was present mostly to help them by projecting images of propaganda to boost their confidence and serve as a handy punching bag for Mala when they needed to ‘assert their superiority over men’, as the Amazons had put it to him sweetly.
Truth to tell, they were always faking it, and a kiss from the blonde Amazon always made the pain go away. He wondered if he deserved an Oscar award for his acting.
Mala continued the chase, while Stan waved his arms about wildly, gesturing for any friendly soldiers to join in. A troop of approaching Nepherian cavalry quickly made him change his mind. They seemed intent to snatching victory out of the jaws of defeat, though almost everybody had realized the battle, for all intents and purposes, was over.
A squad of cavalry smashed into the enemy from the flanks, and Stan was stunned to see a pale faced Ramon on a horse leading the cavalry, his teeth gritted in pain while his left arm was tightly strapped to his chest, his right hand wielding a saber. His inadvertent oblique attack angle deflected the enemy charge, and they veered into a waiting group of pikemen, who promptly took them apart.
“You’re nuts.” Stan remarked to a panting Ramon as Mala rode her horse up to the young apprentice. “Didn’t the boss order you to stay put?”
Ramon looked up, and grinned weakly. “Saw some problems. No choice but to lead the reserve cavalry in.” His eyes suddenly rolled up without warning, and the boy pitched off his horse face first onto the ground.

Artemis stood with the most forward units leading the chase of the routed Nepherians. A long stream of defeated Nepherians were running away from the battle, but her exhausted soldiers were blocked by a strong force of warriors led by a familiar figure.
Lieutenant Mayse was on horseback, screaming at the Nepherians to keep up the pace, while holding the line against the pursuing free armies, directing embattled groups of Nepherians in the rearguard.
“Halt!” Phillip Delacroix shouted, holding out one hand to stay the pursuit.
”General!” Tesin protested, only to shut his mouth when Phillip turned a stern gaze on him.
The line of Nepherian men finally receded into the valley, with only Mayse on horseback remaining. The young officer raised his bloodied sword to his face in a grim but respectful salute.
Artemis did not understand why, but Phillip did the same, his sword almost touching the tip of his nose before sweeping the blade gracefully down. Mayse nodded, then spurred his horse away.
“Why did you let them go?” She asked angrily.
“Because the battle has been decided. The Nepherians would not be able to mount another invasion for a long time. More fighting will serve nobody but Death.”
She looked at him. “Interesting choice of words from somebody who has sent so many to the grim reaper without blinking.”
“I never said I liked it.” He waved a hand behind him at the bloody battlefield. “Do you think this makes me happy? That I’m glad that all these brave men and women are dead? Sure, they might have been fighting for the wrong side, but nobody truly wins in a war like this. What the hell were they fighting for anyway? Fame? Fortune? Glory? Every person killed here robs the world of their passion, their strength, their hopes and dreams for the future.”
“Then why do you still kill them?”
“Because I’m not good nor smart enough to find another way.” He started to walk off.
“What about the rest of my sisters? Will you help us?”
He paused for a moment. “I’m working on it.”

Phillip rubbed one hand through his newly bald and shaved pate, and his other hand applied a dark smelly mixture to his growing beard, dying it a dark brown color. He peered into the mirror, pleased at the results. Nobody would be able to identify him as the leader who had defeated the Nepherians.
“So this was the best idea you could think of?” Jake leaned against one wall of the hut, making it creak dangerously.
Phillip continued touching up on the beard, “The time of battles is over. It’s time for the daggers in the back. Less people killed this way.”
Jake scoffed, “You think Clea won’t be watching out for infiltrators?”
“She won’t,” said Phillip. “She’ll be too busy trying to consolidate her power in the wake of the failed invasion.”
“Then why are you going alone?”
“Because the more people involved, the greater the chance of a leak.” Phillip picked up several pieces of tattered clothing, and started changing into them.
“And if you get caught?”
Phillip smiled grimly. “You know I won’t.”
He finally hefted the special back scabbard with his two swords, and drew out the swords, wrapping them in a bundle, while taking up two mediocre blades, sliding them into two ordinary scabbards. He strapped the scabbards to his sword belt, every bit a lowly soldier. “I’m ready.”
Jake raised an eyebrow, “You didn’t tell anyone?”
“Keep it quiet, Jake. No one else needs to know.” He placed the bundle into his pack, and hefted it up onto one shoulder.
“Okaaaay.” Jake smiled. He had spied Lance and Giresias lurking outside the hut when he had entered. He had heard from Ramon that they were all passing around Ramon’s sole copy of the Book of Paths, which fascinated twenty of the Islanders and five of Lance’s Army Rangers, including Lance himself. And he also knew that Mayse, the Nepherian officer, also had the copy belonging to Phillip. Did he lose the book to Mayse intentionally?
Phillip walked out of the hut. “I’m going on foot. If anybody asks, tell them my job is done.”
“They’re having a feast tonight to honor you.” He looked over Phillip critically, and was impressed. The Lion of Ares looked completely different with his shaved head and dark beard, clad in peasant clothing and a pair of shoddy boots. “Did you know they’re granting you a title?”
“Then I just have to disappoint them. The titles and wealth don’t mean anything to me. Hold the fort in the meantime, Jake, and try to figure a way back.”
“Will do. Good luck.”
Phillip jogged away from the camp at a steady pace. Jake glanced at the stables, where Ramon, some Islanders, and some Rangers lounged around, pretending to be doing nothing while surreptitiously observing the route Phillip was taking.
He grinned, and his grin grew wider when a Ranger approached him for approval for an ‘extended recon’. He granted it, of course. He wished he could see the faces of the cocky Rangers when they realized Phillip never left tracks behind for others to follow.

Clea smashed the vases along the corridor with just a sweep of her hand, screaming in rage. Her servitors and palace attendants cowered in fear, scuttling away from the angry goddess, leaving only the chained Amazon at her feet.
Wonder Woman, though weakened and chained, could not resist a satisfied smirk. Unable to fight back, she took vicarious joy in the victories of Clea’s enemies, which apparently included the Amazons who had managed to escape.
“Wipe that smile off your face.” Clea forced out through gritted teeth. “You cannot imagine the tortures I can put you through.”
Diana fired back, “All the torture in the world is worth the pleasure of seeing you thwarted.”
Clea flung out a hand, energy bolts slamming into the hapless Princess, who wailed and writhed under the barrage of magical energy, her chains preventing her from defending herself with her invincible bracelets. “Is it? I can give you pain, more pain than even you can endure!”
The goddess continued blasting the heroine, listening to Diana’s anguished screams for several long minutes. Then she finally stopped, breathing hard. Despite her agony, Wonder Woman noted that Clea, for the very first time, showed signs of fatigue, perhaps due to the death of her champions.
It gave her hope.
Clea said, “Time for something new. Guards!” Two soldiers scurried to her. “Bring out the bitch queen. I may not be able to break this whore now, but let’s see if her dear mother is as strong.”
The guards swallowed hard, feeling very uneasy at their latest orders, but proceeded to do as Clea had commanded.
Diana’s heart was suddenly seized by terror. Her dearest mother, subject to Clea’s tender mercies! She tried to scream, but a gesture from Clea sealed her mouth with magic.
Clea grabbed Diana’s hair, and proceeded to drag her painfully across the floor to one of her special rooms, equipped specially for Clea’s personal pleasure. Two of the ever-present torturers gleefully strapped Wonder Woman into a X-shaped rack, her arms and legs bound to the magical chains which bound even her great strength.
Hippolyta was dragged into the room five minutes later. Diana shook her head desperately, trying to plead with Clea to let her mother off, but the evil grin on the goddess’s face left no doubt of her intentions.
The Amazon queen was determined to resist. “What do you intend to do? You will never break me! Let me go! You will… Mmmppph!” Clea unceremoniously stuck a silk gag into her mouth.
“You Amazons seem very fond of mouthing such defiance.” Clea strutted in front of the enraged Amazon Queen. “I shall enjoy beating that defiance out of you.”
The certainty of Clea’s words made Hippolyta look towards her bound daughter in momentary panic. Clea called a whip to her hands, stretching it experimentally to test its strength.
Then she swung it down Hippolyta’s back with vicious force.
“AHHHHHH!” Hippolyta could not help the agonized scream from her mouth. Clea never paused as she swung it down again and again, drawing shrieks and painful gasps from the helpless Amazon Queen.
“Stop it! Stop it!” Wonder Woman shouted desperately, tears streaking down her face as her mother’s plight. “PLEASE!”
“Shut up bitch!” If anything, Clea’s blows with the whip became even stronger, and Hippolyta’s screams became wilder, like those of a trapped animal, echoing off the empty walls and corridors of the dungeon. Blood dripped from the whip and from the Amazon’s back onto the floor, lapped up by the two slavering guard dogs in the torture room, while the torturers laughed at the plight of the once haughty and arrogant Queen.
There was suddenly a pause in the screams, Clea lowering the whip down to the floor. “Are you ready to break yet, cow?”
Hippolyta did not answer, but her defiant glare told more than words could say. Her head was bowed, but she was not broken. Not yet.
Clea smiled. “It would not be fun if you had given up so easily.” She clapped her hands, and the torturers took out a giant phallic shaped rod, studded with metal knobs on its surface, more than three inches wide, and looking more and more frightening to the Amazons with every passing moment.
“Something I built last week. I had hoped to test it out on some of my slaves, but why use slaves when I have royalty at my disposal?”
“You cannot do this!” Diana screamed when Clea approached Hippolyta with the dreadful device. The torturers manipulated the ropes, ensuring that the beautiful Queen was helpless while opening up her legs for insertion.
Hippolyta squirmed and struggled with all her waning strength to prevent them from pulling her legs apart, but her futile struggle only served to excite them further. The torturers were big, beefy men, wide in girth but heavily muscled as well. They had to be, in order to inflict maximum pain and suffering on their subjects. Stripped to the waist in the cold dungeons, they hardly noticed the cold, excited by the rising heat in their thinly covered loins as they observed the writhing muscular thighs and calves of the Amazons.
Hippolyta did not see it, but Diana did, and it chilled her further. She refused to think of what it could mean, but the corner of her mind, her soul, that had been corrupted by the turning of her sisters reveled in the coming desecration.
“You will not do this. I will not allow you.” Hippolyta gasped out through gritted teeth as Clea slowly lowered the terrible dildo to her groin, finally seeing the horrible instrument of sexual torture. Her voice grew ever more fearful, “I am an Amazon! You cannot do this! It is forbidden!”
“By who? Your gods? They aren’t here now!” Clea cackled, then rubbed it speculatively over the trembling cunt lips of the Amazon Queen, caressing the soft flesh with the dildo speculatively, bringing out the instinctive urges of Hippolyta’s body against the Queen’s own will. “Feel it now, don’t you? The fear, the yearning, the uncertainty of whether this tool will bring pain… or pleasure on the next thrust… Only the most stubborn slaves have been broken this way. You should feel honored.”
“No!” Diana continued to protest. “You cannot!”
“Sure I can.” Hippolyta was shaking with fear, feeling more terrified than she had ever been. If she and her daughter had been thinking more clearly, they would have realized that Clea was subtly influencing their emotions, making them more scared than they usually would be. However, Clea’s kind of torture wasn’t exactly something either woman had ever faced before either, which made it all the more frightening.
Clea continued stroking the Amazon Queen’s cunt lips with the dildo, savoring the uncertainty and helpless anticipation of Hippolyta, not knowing when Clea would finally plunge the dreadful weapon into her. Hippolyta sobbed and trembled as she sought to bring her fear under control, without much success, her shoulders quaking with terror.
The evil goddess stabbed the dildo in without warning, parting the lips of Hippolyta’s vagina in one brutal thrust. Hippolyta threw her head back and shrieked in incredible pain, her breasts heaving as she writhed in torment on the rack while Clea worked the dildo mercilessly.
“SO… MUCH PAIN! IT’S TOO BIG! IT HURTS! TAKE IT OUT!” The bound Amazon bellowed. Wonder Woman closed her eyes in denial, but the screams of her mother continued to assail her senses.
“What’s the matter? Can’t take it? You were once Wonder Woman too, Hippolyta. I thought being an Amazon Queen and all, this would be child’s play to you.” Clea began to piston the dildo even more viciously, the tortured queen jerking in her bonds. “Apparently not ‘wonderful’ enough of a woman, are you?”
Blood began to coat the dildo from Hippolyta’s damaged inner walls, while Diana screamed for Clea to stop. Hippolyta’s shrieks for mercy became unintelligible as pain overcame even her Amazon resistance to pain and injury. Clea continued her sexual assault, cleverly straddling the line between outright pain and outright pleasure. She did enough to keep Hippolyta in intense pain, but not so much as to make her pass out.
Clea knew Hippolyta was close to breaking. Even better, Wonder Woman knew it too. It was torture of the most exquisite kind, not merely on the physical, but also on the mental, emotional, and even spiritual levels. She had always dreamed of possessing such power, and now that she had it, she was going to use it to fulfill her desires and long-nurtured dreams of exacting vengeance on her enemies.
Hippolyta finally broke. “PLEASE STOP! I BEG YOU! IT HURTS SO MUCH! ARRRGGGHHH!”
Clea smiled in triumph. “Why, all you had to do was ask.” She gave the dildo one more wicked plunge into the ravaged Queen, before pulling it out with one brutal motion, causing the Queen of Themyscira to writhe in frenzied agony.
“Why are you doing this?” Wonder Woman sobbed. “She is a woman like you…”
“Spare me that sisterhood bullshit. It doesn’t matter. If your bitch mother really believed it, why didn’t she help a fellow sister back in the 50’s to regain her throne?” Clea spat. “No, she beat the crap out of us. And you, you did the same back in Skataris.”
“Because what you were doing was wrong. You had to be stopped.”
“A bit late for anyone to stop me now.” Clea replied maliciously, looking down at Hippolyta, who was almost unconscious from the pain. Drool trickled out from one corner of the Amazon’s slack mouth, her blue eyes open but unfocused. She moaned softly, unintelligible sounds coming from her mouth.
Clea waved the two torturers over. Their stiff erections were clearly visible beneath their flimsy loincloths. “Men, I have a rare treat for you! Mount her.”
They didn’t need any more prompting. They exchanged glances, wordlessly deciding the pecking order. The slightly older torturer stepped forward first, while Diana screamed at him to stop. They paid the bound heroine no heed. She was helpless, after all, and perhaps if they performed well enough, the goddess might be generous enough to allow them a crack at the even more gorgeous younger woman too!
Even broken and battered, Hippolyta was still cognizant of what was going to happen when the first man lowered himself onto her. She groaned in denial, trying desperately to keep him out, but her vaginal muscles were too tired and bruised from Clea’s brutal manipulation of the dildo to offer much resistance.
For the first time in millennia, since mighty Heracles, a man forced himself into the sacred depths of the Queen of the Amazons. He pushed past her meager resistance, enjoying her delicious tightness, his cock firmly sheathed in her depths. He began to thrust his hips, eliciting more whimpers of pain from Hippolyta. She opened her mouth to moan, but the man captured it easily with his own in a kiss, then moving around it, his tongue running hungrily over the soft skin of the Amazon’s face, licking off the mingled sweat and tears from the defeated Queen, whose eyes were wide with pain, fear, and humiliation. Her legs strained uselessly against the ropes holding them down, the thighs glistening with sweat and cum while the man panted with exhilaration at raping his beautiful victim.
Bound and helpless, Wonder Woman could only watch in meek impotency as her mother was brutally violated by Clea’s vicious men. But worse was to come.
Hippolyta had been willfully resisting the pleasure emitted from her aroused body, and succeeding so far. However, Clea’s subtle magical manipulation was deviously undermining her resistance, and her moans of pain gradually tinged with undercurrents of arousal. Diana was alarmed at the change. “Mother, resist! You cannot allow them power over you!”
Hippolyta screamed in half pleasure and pain as she climaxed with her rapist, the sound tinged with shame and defeat. The torturer grinned broadly, then heaved himself off the ravaged queen. He waved his fellow torturer forward, while Hippolyta panted with exhaustion. Her eyes, once defiant and fearless, were now dulled with pain and fear, as well as a barely discernable yearning for more sex.
Clea saw it, and Wonder Woman’s fell further into despair when she saw it too.
Clea whispered into the second man’s ear, and he nodded. He walked up to Hippolyta, but instead of plunging in right away, he lowered his head to her crotch and nibbled at her folds with his teeth. Hippolyta gritted her teeth in shameful agony, unable to fight off the temptation of sex yet unwilling to give in so easily in the presence of her daughter. She also knew, deep in her soul, that if she capitulated, it would likely mean the end of the Amazons.
“Resist, Mother. You have to resist!” Diana shouted desperately. But it was clear that Hippolyta’s willpower was fading. Her cheeks flushed red, while her mouth opened wide in panting gasps, her hands no longer straining for freedom, but rather to fondle her own magnificent body.
Then came the most shocking move of all. Clea waved a hand, and the ropes binding Hippolyta fell away. The Amazon Queen did not seek to escape. Her arms moved immediately to clasp her own breasts, while she moaned in ecstasy. Diana closed her eyes in denial; her mother had given up, given in.
“Take me! Oh, take me now!” Hippolyta urged the man, who needed little encouragement to enter her, thrusting eagerly. The end did not take long, and Hippolyta screamed in ecstasy as she reached orgasm again, her hair exploding around her face as her head rocked with pleasure. Her body arched to such an extent that it seemed her spine might break, but she finally collapsed back, her generous chest heaving generously while the man slid his cock out of her, a broad grin on his face at such an enjoyable fuck.
Clea laughed as Hippolyta slumped forward onto the ground on her knees before the cruel goddess, exhausted and defeated. Diana turned away, feeling a terrible dread settle upon her soul, already tainted by the defeat and rape of her sisters. The light of her mother, she could sense, was dimming by Clea’s torture. Clea savored the sight of the once indomitable Amazon Queen, now sweating, exhausted, devastated, lying motionless on the cold stone floor.
“Please, no more…” Hippolyta pleaded weakly as Clea pulled her up by her long black hair.
“Then submit. Say you surrender.”
“I…” Hippolyta could not say it. She dare not say it. In all their long existence, no Amazon had ever surrendered to a foe. She would not, could not, be the first.
Clea smiled, then lowered a hand, running it slowly across Hippolyta’s chest. The Amazon finally broke.
“Please, I… surrender. Stop… I can’t take it any more…” Hippolyta admitted. “You have tamed me! Please stop…”
“Well, that’s all you had to say.” Clea lifted her hand, patted Hippolyta condescendingly on the head. “Guards, take her back to her cell. Oh, make sure she’s adequately entertained. I trust you know what to do.”
Wonder Woman could not believe it. Her mother, the Queen of the Amazons, had been broken by Clea, her defiant Amazon spirit tamed. She shivered when she realized her own defeat could not be far behind.
“I’ll leave you here to ponder your impending defeat and demise.” Clea smiled languidly, knowing that her victory over the Amazon Princess was just a matter of time.
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The Games that Gods Play