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II
Diana
The armoured Sangtee noble nodded to the
warrior next to him, who turned and picked up the neural whip. Diana remembered its lashing kiss all to well
during her slavery. She felt her heart sink...and her blood boil. Instinctively
she stood upright, facing her captor, her legs spread, arms pinned back. Her black pirate uniform felt much less
sturdy than her battle armour as it clung to her exquisite curves. She steadied her breathing...not wanting to
make a show of her proud bosom heaving in front of those pigs. The Sangtee were not really supposed to care
about her female charms of course, but Diana did not delude herself by thinking
they would be the only ones watching.
“Where
shall we start general? Let us save her
face 'til last.” The courtier pondered,
gloating over his prisoner. “Let’s see if you can undress her with the whips
caress. That should teach her to undress more willingly in the future!”
“Agreed,” said the warrior, speaking for the
first time. His voice was deep and
terse. “I have heard many rumours among
our warriors of this ones abilities. “Let
us see how resilient her thin woman body really is.”
He activated a control on his glove and Diana
felt the bonds holding her wrists behind her pulling up and back, forcing her
to bend at the waist to expose her back and flanks. White-hot hatred flashed
through her mind at being manipulated and forced into this position, the more
so because she was certain by exerting her full strength she could overload the
drives of the machine hauling up her wrists.
She longed to give them a display of true Amazon power, but the screen
before showed the two Russian women still weeping, trying to console each
other. And so, she stayed silent, and leaned forward.
She
heard the hum as the energy whip was activated.
Diana
closed her eyes and steeled herself. "This
will hurt," she heard the general say, "and you are not to suppress
any sounds of pain!" You are required to give voice to your suffering;
understand, slut!?`
Diana
said nothing, but nodded tightly, not looking at him. She was keeping her eyes
fixed to the wall, trying to focus on a place far from this terrible room. Time seemed to crawl as she waited for the
stroke. And then...
The
humming of the neural whip increasing as it was flung through the air,
playfully. The alien was testing its flexibility. She did not flinch,
controlling her fear. The general
grunted in surprise; this one would
take great deal of persuasion, it seemed.
Diana
flexed her toes, waiting without sign of apprehension, but squirming inside. Just get on with it, scum, she thought, while
her fingers twitched a little behind her back, her breasts staining against the
bustier as she leaned over. Ass tight,
her back a smooth slope of skin and black spandex.
The
whip uncoiled suddenly, smacking like a lighting bolt across her back! Diana felt the blow, the filament sending the
sting of a hundred scorpion strikes into her nervous system.
This
was the hideous genius of the device – it could make the victim feel the pain
of having her flesh flayed from her body, while leaving her physically
undamaged. The whips were deviously crafted instruments of pain, created to
adjust to the unique bioelectric field of living beings and inflict suffering
by disrupting that energy field via the electrical impulses of the victim’s
nervous system. Each blow of the lash
would make the whip more sensitive to its targets energy signature, and thereby
increase the woman’s pain. The process
would continue until the person using the whip locked the setting or used it on
another target, thereby resetting the lash to its “default” position.
Diana
had felt the pain of the neural-whip often in the slave camp, both on her own
behalf, and when she had been shielding other, weaker females from its
cruelty. The lives of their slaves had
meant less than nothing to the Sangtee, and it had not been unusual for them to
flog a slave to death for no apparent reason beyond wanton sadism. Even though
the device caused minimal physical damage, the ever-increasing pain of the
blows was usually enough to destroy a victim’s nervous system within a dozen
stokes, unless the one using it had locked it to a fixed setting. Even without being permitted to reach
maximum, the trauma suffered by repeated blows could be enough to cause
seizures or cardiac arrest after sustained torture.
Diana
bore the pain now, remembering with loathing the times she had endured this
awful process in the camp, biding her time until she could reveal her full
abilities with the certainty of escape. She grunted, the pain flaring across
her lower back as he coiled it to strike again.
She felt a coolness on her skin as the metal thread pf the device tore
the thin material with ease, exposing her smooth flesh under it. This was another piece of perverse genius by
the Sangtee – the lash would rip a victim's clothes to shreds with ease, but
leave her skin virtually unmarked. Diana
did not pretend to understand the science behind the device, any more than the
twisted hatred that had spawned it. She
understood only the pain it inflicted, and her need to suffer it to keep her
friend and her daughter from further agony.
Holding the whip loosely, the General watched
her body absorb his blow, giving a low sigh of pleasure. Like Diana he knew the
whip would not flay her flesh as conventional ones did, allowing her to absorb
much more pain. Unlike her though, he
knew that his particular model had been upgraded to not only disrupt the
targets neural network but also to stimulate certain parts of the female brain,
making sure that she would stay conscious and aware of her suffering. Tests had
shown that this new feature meant that the hated female target could be kept
screaming in total agony for hours, right up to the point where her pathetic
body shut down in death, without ever having to pause to revive her. He was aching to see how long this particular
slut would last before her inferior physicality finally gave out under the ever-mounting
pain.
The
whip stung her again, this time it landing squarely on her buttocks and its tip
lashing into her lower belly. Diana cried
out, fighting every instinct to stay silent, but still holding back the
appropriate response for pain of that magnitude. The suffering was every bit as bad as she
remembered - worse, perhaps. No doubt,
the Sangtee had refined their tools of subjugating females. Her body could defy the strength of conventional
blows, but this struck right at her pain receptors, the whip ploughing a
harvest of anguish in the very fibres of her being.
“Louder,
bitch,” the Noble said, watching her ass wiggle as the whip drew back across it. The other alien threw the lash back and cut
at the Amazon again...this time letting the whip snap up against her dangling
breasts. With a hideous snap it hit both
at once, the whip sending its crackling pain into her mammal nerve-endings,
glances and breast-meat. Diana screamed,
more in anger than suffering, though the pain was great. Her exposed tit tops reddened under the horrible
caress, her bustier torn so that it barely clung to her fulsome boobs.
Having
set his target with his first strike the General lashed her breasts again,
tearing away more black material and laying her welted skin bare. Her shoulders hauled back by her chained wrists
Diana could do nothing to protect her boobs, and a dozen blows cracked against
the twin bulging chest orbs. With each
strike the pain increased exponentially, doubling and redoubling. A normal woman would have died at the twelfth
strike – a super-fit female like Black Canary or Huntress might have survived
long enough to die screaming at the fifteenth.
All
told Diana’s tits took twenty cuts of the lash.
By
the time the twentieth had slithered from her tits Diana could barely remember
where she was, beyond that she needed to somehow pay attention to the screen in
front of her, what it was telling her to do.
Hanging down beneath her amid the slivers of her pirate garb her tits
throbbed and burned like sacks of molten steel that had be glued to her chest
for her torture. She shook fitfully, her
ass clenched as she stood bent at the waist and moaned on cue.
"Ah,
yes!" the noble sighed. "You are a slut after all. And sluts are most appropriately punished
there,” his violet eyes drank in the view of her battered cleavage, then
travelled south,” ...and...there!" he said, nodding at his accomplice
holding the whip. Diana sucked in air, blinking, dreading his meaning. The whip recoiled and hit her again...this
time right between her legs.
It
took an endless second for the pain to hit, and then the heroine known as
Wonder Woman opened her mouth and screamed!
“AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!”
Even though she hated herself, she was secretly
glad for the excuse to cry out - her womanhood was on fire! It felt as if it
had been doused in rocket fuel and set alight.
The crotch of her tight pants was torn away in a flare of energy that
left her pink slit peeking through the ragged remains of modesty.
The
noble sighed again and opened his robe, exposing his hard, mauve-skinned cock
behind it. “As it is meant to be,"
he purred, "for the female to endure pain so we may have our
pleasure!"
Dian
longed to tell him to fuck himself, but bit her tongue, since the work with
hands on his engorged manhood made it clear that was his intention anyway. She
concentrated on trying to ignore the agony festering between her long legs. It hurt so much! The heat burning across her back, breasts and
labia contrasted with the chill across her skin as she perspired freely,
glowing under the rooms lights.
The
General gave another strike from behind, curling the cord of the whip up under
her so that the very tip snapped against her groin. Diana’s head pulled back and she bucked
forward. She remembered seeing the
nearal device used against Donna and Starfire as they were raped, and prayed
that it had not been as horribly painful as this.
For
the third time her pussy was struck; by now her pant offered little protection
from the Sangtee’s staring eyes, little alone the terrible whip. The cord tore at her outer lips, almost
penetrating her.
“GAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”
The
screen in front of her flickered to life.
"Read out loud, slut!" the Noble commanded, as a message
became visible on the viewer.
Diana
blinked the sweat from her eyes and lifted her head as much as she could. She read
the words, her mouth full of bile at the sight. “Please,” she hissed, forming the word with
an effort of will, “stop.”
The
Noble smiled broadly, as another message came on. Diana swallowed and spoke the
words almost inaudibly. “It hurts,” she
husked.
The
General sneered and pulled back his arm - clearly, this bitch needed stronger
motivation. He eyed her full tits, still partially covered.
Diana
heard the male behind her moving and fought to control her shakes. Days of torture, both physical and
psychological, had taken a toll of her strength. Her fabulous, welt-creased body was held up
now by the bindings about her wrists and ankles.
The
big Sangtee set down the whip and turned to one of the sets of devices near the
wall. Quickly he shed the gauntlets of
his armour and put on a pair of newly developed gloves...studded with filaments
made of the same material as the neural whip’s lash.
Meanwhile,
in front of the so-called Wonder Woman the Noble was speaking.
“Renounce
your foolish beliefs of female equality,” he said. “Admit you hate all men and what you truly
wish is nothing less than our total destruction.”
Diana
pressed her lips together, bracing herself to debase her quest to bring peace
further for the sake of the Russian captives, but the message surprised her. “No,” she read, “I wont say it. You can’t
make me, ignorant male scum.” The last came naturally to her lips surprising
herself with the sound of her own vehemence in the words. She did not believe that last – not in her
heart, she told herself.
The
manacles pulled down, drawing her hands back towards her smarting backside, the
neural shock lingering in her synapses. Diana was hauled upright to face the general
as he came forward, working his fingers inside the neural gloves on his hands,
making them crackle with energy. They
were obviously designed along the same lines as the whip, and she swallowed,
imagining those metal-gloved hands on her body.
"We
will make you, slut!" he said, reaching
out and taking both her breasts into a vice-like grip, applying pressure to
drive the neural filaments into her flesh as she squeezed the pert orbs in a
crushing grip.
Diana
stiffened immediately, the energy charge
filling her tits and making them buzz with discomfort. The contact of the energy to her bare skin
and soft meat beneath increased suddenly, and the Princess was subjected to
white-hot, blinding jolts of unbelievable pain firing straight into her
woman-globes. Obedient to the twisted orders of her tormentors grimaced in pain. The material still clinging to her ample
breasts was burning away as he kneaded
and groped and twisted her tits like a ruthlessly brutal lover, exposing her luscious flesh.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!”
Diana
faced the grinning Sangtee, face tight with pain as she allowed the sounds of
suffering to be heard. Bent forward her
breasts hung down into her Sangtee’s upraised palms, and he pushed up,
pillowing them against her chest as the fleshy female attributes bulged between
his clawing fingers. Diana could feel
the fibres piercing her fair skin and stabbing into her breasts to release
their burning message of suffering, making it feel her tits were being roasted
from within. Only the continuing view of Tasha and her daughter tied and ready
for further torment prevented her from biting down her pain, overcoming it with
the sheer force of her nigh indomitable will.
And
yet, in a secret part of her soul she was sickly grateful for the excuse to
give voice to her pain, not just of her body, but of her very soul, knowing her
sister and friends were sharing in this descent into hell.
The
General let go of her tits, only to slap them...slapping them with both his
gloved hands, making them bounce and jiggle on her chest, the weight of the
wobbling meat pulling her forward against her bonds. Blowing out air noisily, eyes narrowed, she cried aloud, her swelling mammal spheres
feeling like they had been smashed with steel hammer. They burned, her chest aflame, the heat like it was sizzling her skin away
while her Amazon tits bounded wildly, amplifying the hurt. Again and again he walloped her breasts, the
sound of metal on skin echoing in the room and punctuated by Diana’s deep felt
groans and choked, unwilling cries.
He
finally finished slapping her tits, taking a step back to observe her. She
watched him eyes cloudy with tears. Many
men had thought that her superhuman powers made her immune to pain, but unlike
Superman Diana was not invulnerable – else why would she need to protect
herself with her bracelets. True she was
more resilient than any mortal woman was, but she could be hurt, and she could
feel pain. She was sweating heavily now,
her bare chest red and shining as she fought to take in air. Her black hair
clung to her forehead and she panted, wetting her lips. The Sangtee had no illusions that she was
truly near to breaking, but they also knew that the suffering in her face was
not entirely feigned, and the thought warmed their cruel hearts.
"Effective,
aren’t they?” grunted the Sangtee warrior. “We have made some developments,
after you left our planet, whore! And we look forward to demonstrating all of
them to you."
“Admit
your evil,” said the Noble quietly.
Diana
looked at the screen for her response. “No,” she said, and then followed the
prompt to sob a little. Filth, she thought.
“Perhaps
the tips of her foul female udders this time,” the Noble suggested with seeming
indifference, even his armour unable to completely conceal the erection between
his legs.
The
alien warrior complied, taking her nipples between his thumb and finger,
trapping the tender buds in a grip of neural agony.
Oh Goddesses!
Diana prayed silently, as the power of the gloves was redirected into one,
ultra sensitive spot on each trembling breast.
Before the pain had been bad as it coursed across her skin and soaked
into her mammary. But now the anguish had a route directly into the nerve
clusters focused in her round hard nipples – the flames of pain that had
roasted her tits now scorched her nubbins like twin blowtorches, searing them
to misshapen lumps of tight skin. She grit her teeth – compared to this the
pacifier seemed like a relaxing massage.
"Admit
the error of your ways and beg us to take you back to the empire to be executed
for your crimes against the natural order of things! Submit slut, or be
tortured to death!” the Noble spat.
Diana
screamed in his grip, her body lifting as instinct took over and she tried to
pull herself away from his grip, her big firm breasts roasting, about to burst,
the nipples swollen buttons of poisonous agony. As she pulled back so did he,
making the large Amazon boobs stretch, increasing the suffering sizzling down
the nerve endings in her tit-points. She
looked to the screen with Mishka and Tasha still helpless and then to the
prompt viewer, her mind awash with pain.
And then she opened her mouth and gave a wailing, hopeless cry, and screaming
aloud lumped in his grip, as commanded.
Diana
hung there, supposedly unconscious, but he did not let go. Her boobs still blazing with pain, and all
she could do was hang there and endure it, not even permitted to move.
Five
seconds.
Ten.
She
longed to grit her teeth, just to twitch,
Her breasts coursed with excruciating torment. She was sure her nipples were about to
explode like rotten cherries.
Fifteen
seconds. The torture was maddening, worse than having been locked in the
pacifier. She had to hang totally
without resistance – totally submissive
to the pain being inflicted.
Eighteen,
nineteen; her scream was rising in her throat and madness seemed to be a
welcome escape from the pain. With a
flash of released energy, her tormentor pulled her tit-tips together, grabbing
both her nipples with one hand, still sending the crackling pain into her breasts...while the
other hand lunged beneath the black clad form, clutching her between her legs.
She
could not believe it- her womanhood instantly igniting with anguish. Her vagina still burned from the whip and now
that torture was quadrupled bu the gloves scrabbling at her pouting
fem-slit. Unable to simply hang any longer she gritted
her teeth, feeling her control dissolving, then her red lips flew wide. Her scream of outraged agony was a warbling
sound of utter suffering, tears spilling down her cheeks from sky blue
eyes. Her body from her breasts to her
mons had become a circuit of hellish current.
The metal-gloved fingers pushed at the remains of her pants, feeling
their way inside, Diana gasping desperately as she imagined what it would feel
like when those neural fibres were imbedded into the pink softness of her sex.
The thought made her want to hurl obscenities while she trembled uncontrollably
and her legs spasmed as she fought to close her thighs, to do something to take
control of the pain. Behind her back her
arms were knots of muscles, twisting as she instinctively fought to escaped
from her bondage and her torment.
“Enough,”
the Noble said. Her tormentor held fast on her most tender body-parts and
grinned, then after a moment released her.
Diana’s gargle of pain went into an anguished sob of misery and she
staggered forward, trying to find strength to steady her self.
“Most
impressive, for a slut,” said the Noble.
“As a reward for your work on our behalf, you may rest for five minutes,
before we resume.”
He
stepped forward until her could smell the sweat running down in diamond drops
over her heaving breasts. "But surely you must see,” he went on
philosophically, “that the fact that we are causing this pain, and that you
have to endure it, simply proves that females are meant to live beneath the
male!"
Diana
blinked and let her eyes close. It would be useless to argue with this being,
and at that moment, she really only cared that the next five minutes would be
without fresh pain.
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