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Chapter II
In the centre of a large, machine felled chamber on a raised metal platform, the seal on a heavy metal chamber cracked with a slight hiss and whirred as the front section lifted upwards. Vandal Savage stood a few feet in front of the rising panel and inspected the devices sole occupant.
Princess Diana was secured into the machine by thick metal bands, some holding her arms back against the sides on the internal mechanisms, shoulders square and elbows bent about 45 degrees. Others did the same with her long legs, bent somewhat at the knees and spreading her still booted feet shoulder width apart and. A strip of metal passed across her throat and kept her head raised, and her tiara gleamed above her blue eyes, but those eyes showed signs of fatigue, and above the gold band the rich mane of black hair was sweat stained. Her earrings, the tiara and the boots were the only items her captors had permitted her to wear inside the machine.
Savage inspected the full form of the heroine, noting with satisfaction that she still showed signs of great strength and endurance. Her muscles bunched defiantly as she met his gaze, hands that could gouge holes in steel plates flexing with frustrated passion as she looked at his vulnerable throat.
Savage was a unique individual. A criminal genius without question, he had already lived more than 10 000 years, thanks to being exposed to the radiation of a fallen meteorite that had rendered him apparently immortal. Tall and well muscled, with a cruel but handsome face framed by a brown hair and a neatly trimmed bear, he stood with the erect carriage that testified to his being one of the most confident and self assured men on Earth, a appearance backed by his exploits of violence and conquest that spanned not decades but millennia.
Smiling he looked down the length of her splendid form, again basking in the sight of an athletic frame, feminine hips and waist, tapering legs, smooth belly, full impossibly firm breasts and the neatly trimmed patch of midnight down above the perfect slit of Amazon mons. As gorgeous as these features had looked when her first saw them, their marvellous beauty seemed only enhanced by the many marks left behind by the working of the chamber. Scratches, cuts, burns and welts covered the magnificent female form on display – minor contusions oozed blood and the whole was covered in a gleaming film of perspiration. As the prisoner shook off the effects of the devices attentions, her incredible breasts swelled and subsided deliciously, a fact subtly noted by the other technicians in the room who had earned the privilege of helping to monitor the interrogation process.
‘Hello Wonder Woman,’ Savage smiled. ‘I trust that your time in the Pacifier is proving relaxing.’
Diana blinked, showing no emotion or embarrassment at her nudity. ‘Yes, thank you,’ she said casually. ‘If you like I’d be happy to let you try it.’
Savage laughed and moved around beside her, inspecting the various cutting tools and needle tipped appendages now at rest in the raised front piece. ‘Thank you, Princess, but I wouldn’t want to disappoint our technicians. They have become quite fascinated by your endurance. Almost fourteen hours in the machine so far, and not even a scream. Very impressive, I must admit.’
Diana blinked and took in the information. Fourteen hours. There had bee times when it has seemed like days since the men had secured her into the evil mechanism. The sufferings inflicted by the ‘pacifier’ were continuous and diabolically ingenious, and no part of her body had been spared its attentions. She had decided she would not scream whatever they did to her, focussed on that thought, and used it to counteract the pain of the torture machine. Diana’s will was second to none, and as an Amazon she was trained to accept pain and go beyond it.
But that did not mean she liked it.
Savage smiled again. ‘As a reward for your stoicism, allow me to share some information with you regarding some of your fellow captives. Specifically, you sister.’
A screen behind Savage flickered to life, displaying Donna Troy in some sort of metal chair, arms held behind her and legs spread wide. Strikingly similar in appearance to Diana, the younger Amazon was somewhat shorter at 5’ 8”, but proportionally perfect, with exquisitely long legs, a magnificent athletic figure, sumptuous full breasts and a gorgeous face with its own long mane of black flowing hair. Usually she sported a red body suit that hugged her figure and displayed a generous but not immodest view of her cleavage, but that was gone. Her black boots and arm bracelets remained on, but the rest of her uniform looked to have been torn away, and she sat naked and completely exposed. Her full breasts and supple things looked red and raw, as if they had been burned, and her face showed signs of pain. Diana started in shock at the sight, mouth twisting in fury, but before she could hurl a sulphurous oath at Savage a man stepped into the frame, reaching for Donna’s reddened breast with one hand as the other fumbled with the fastenings of his pants.
Diana’s expression of anger gave way to horror, and then as the man moved forward towards her sister with his jutting member in hand turned back to fury. ‘You scum!’ she screamed. ‘Stop it! Let her alone, damn you!’
Savage smiled. ‘Oh I’m sorry, your highness, but this extract from the whole footage is already several hours old. Don’t worry though – I’ve taken the liberty of having the entire sequence restarted from the beginning and played continuously on screens inside the pacifier as your continue your ‘therapy.’
‘Savage!’ screamed Diana, muscles straining. ‘You inhuman monster!’ The front section rolled down again. ‘I’LL KILL YOU FOR THIS, YOU BASTARDS! YOUR DEAD, YOU STINKING PIECE OF…”
The rest of her words were cut off as the metal chamber sealed itself with a soft clang.
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