Wonder Woman - Twisted Dominion

All characters involved are 18+. Wonder Woman is owned by DC Comics.

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4.1

Diana Prince was a taken woman.

Taken.

A word rarely used to describe an Amazon. But for Diana, it was the truth. By the customs of Man's World, Diana was spoken for. Off the market.

Normally, those would be quaint, patriarchal phrases that provided Diana an amusing window into the minds of the men who lived beyond Paradise Island. These peculiar expressions were quite telling on how they viewed the relations between the sexes. Today, they described Diana's new reality.

Diana was a taken woman in the truest sense of the word. A spell had been placed over her mind, ancient and powerful magic that not even her divine blessings could resist. She had been bound to a mortal man, the one called Mark Messner. She wasn't simply under his thrall. She

belonged

to him, mind, body, and soul.

And Diana felt

content

. Beyond that, she felt delighted, even fulfilled. By the gods, she was

eager

to see him again.

The Princess of Themyscira knew that these were the exact opposite feelings she was supposed to have. Diana, daughter of Queen Hippolyta, had been enthralled to some

man

, taken as a living trophy. Made into a plaything to warm his bed and fulfill his every deviant desire. So where was her rage? Her righteous fury? Snuffed out, of course, by the very same spell that held dominion over her mind.

Diana was aware of all of this. And

still

she felt a thrill at the prospect of feeling Mark's touch again. The most wicked thing about it all was that Diana couldn't tell if her excitement was the spell's doing... Or if she truly couldn't wait to enjoy another night in the man's bed.

That had been the inner turmoil Diana had endured for the first couple weeks of her new life. But every visit to the Messner Estate brought a sense of acceptance. Every session of lovemaking, every bout of fucking, came with clear feelings of affection. And each time those feelings came stronger than the last. The sensations had become

beyond

delectable.

The wicked ecstasy of being on her back, her legs folded atop her, ankles being forced up by her head while Mark loomed over her. His forehead touching hers, sweat dripping down his brow, grunting, growling as he struck down and skewered her cunt with that thick battering ram he called a cock. Her shrieking into his face,

wailing

as he took what was his, again and again and again. Gripping her by the ankles until his knuckles turned white, snarling like a beast as he mercilessly plundered her soaking wet pussy, fucking his fill like a man driven mad.

It had become an addiction, a high that Diana now longed for during the days she spent away from Mark. An outsider might have concluded that she was simply making the best of her unfavorable situation, finding some happiness in her enslavement. But truthfully? Diana was finding her situation more favorable with each passing day.

Diana Prince was a taken woman. And she

loved

it.

A taken woman with designs to help my conqueror take another

, Diana thought with a wry grin.

Her conqueror. There was an air of absurdity to the idea. Mark Messner certainly didn't

look

like the conquering type. Young and lean, rather than grizzled and sculpted. He was handsome, yes, but almost boyishly so. Mark was closer to a tech-bro CEO - one who looked like he made his fortune just out of college - than he was to some warlord harem master.

The only thing intimidating about Mark was the size of his cock, an aspect that Diana had already grown accustomed to. But the younger man had conquered Diana all the same. Without a sword drawn, without a bullet fired, without even so much as a raised fist, he took her into his bed and had his way.

Every

way.

And Diana was going to bring him another lover. But the question was:

Who?

As she sat at the long, spanning table of the Watchtower's main meeting hall, Diana considered her options. Pretending to listen as Clark and J'onn led the weekly discussion on how the League could more effectively respond to natural disasters, the Amazonian princess made a mental tally of the other superheroines in the room.

To her immediate left was the Thanagarian warrior, Shayera Hol, better known as Hawkwoman. A shorter woman than Diana, standing at a modest five-foot-six - not accounting for the extra inches added by her wings. But despite her humble stature, Shayera was a ferocious fighter.

Possessing a rougher sort of beauty, the winged heroine was an enticing option. She had a lean figure, sporting more muscles than curves, but still managed to appear distinctly feminine. The flowing mane of red hair helped, pouring out the back of her avian-styled battle-helm. And through that helm glimmered her striking green eyes, capable of captivating men and women alike. Smaller as she was, Shayera Hol cut just as formidable an appearance as her husband, Katar Hol.

And that right there was the problem: her husband. Diana would have been more than willing to lure the Hawkwoman into Mark's gilded cage had she been single. But alas, that was not the case here. By all accounts, the marriage of the Hawks was solid, stable, and happy. That and Diana just had the feeling that Katar Hol wasn't the sharing type. Such was the case with men.

Diana Prince just didn't have it in her to become the homewrecking sort. Magically enthralled or not, an Amazon warrior's standards weren't so easily lowered.

Hawkwoman was officially

off

the table for consideration.

"-Gonna do something about the situation in the Congo? There's been half a dozen reports of unusual animal attacks in the last month. Gorillas, elephants, crocodiles, all showing signs of clear genetic tampering. These creatures have grown to

absurd

sizes."

It was the familiar voice of Vixen that drew Diana out of her crooked thoughts. The topic of discussion had clearly shifted while her mind had wandered. The Amazon's eyes settled on the dark-skinned woman sitting across the table.

Mari Jiwe McCabe. The Vixen. Avatar of the animal kingdom. A superheroine who could be as swift a cheetah one moment and as fierce as a lioness the next. She was another potential offering, Diana decided as she took a moment to drink in the vision of wild beauty.

Mari was a tall woman, standing at a proud five-foot-ten, but still shorter than Diana. Striking in appearance as most superheroines were, the Vixen cut an incredible figure in that lovely honey-gold suit. Skin-tight and oh so sensual, her heroic garb ensured that her femininity was unmistakable. Her looks were a weapon as much as her powers were and Mari wielded them skillfully.

Short black hair, stunning amber eyes, full pert lips, and an ample, statuesque body. All poured into that sleeveless, low-cut outfit. Mari was a breathtaking beauty by any standard. It was no wonder that she was a supermodel in her off-time.

Supermodel.

The word rang in Diana's mind, echoing. Mari McCabe was famous, one of the few Leaguers whose identity was public knowledge. And that made her a high-profile target.

Not quite as high-profile as Wonder Woman but still risky

, Diana noted with the tiniest hint of pride. Mark himself had mentioned that he already pushed his luck ensnaring Diana. Going for a juicy catch like Vixen might draw unwanted attention to their little affair. One slip-up could bring the whole party to an end. And neither Mark or Diana wanted

that

.

And so Diana mentally crossed Vixen off of her list.

"We're keeping a close eye on what's happening in the region, Vixen." Spoke Superman. Ever the arbiter, Clark carried himself in a way that was somehow equal parts authoritative and friendly. He had an approachability that the man seated beside him lacked.

"The League's sources in the area have already given us a lead." Added Batman, his voice clear, level, and

cold

. "Noted mercenaries Slade Wilson and Lawrence Crock have been sighted conducting business deals in the city of Kindu. You might know them better as Deathstroke and Sportsmaster, respectively."

"That's some serious bad guy talent," Vixen leaned back into her seat, gracefully crossing one leg over the other. "But these guys are guns-for-hire. How does their presence give us a lead on the freakishly large animal situation?"

"Our intel suggests that both men have come into the employ of Project Cadmus, an organization that specializes in genetic research." Batman continued, tapping a few keys on the holo-display projected on the table before him. The holo-projections blinked online across the table, with each League being presented with the aforementioned intel. Files and photos appeared before Diana, but the Amazon only feigned interest. "Although Cadmus is mainly infamous for their many endeavors in cloning, the possibility that they're branching out into genetic enhancements is troubling. Rest assured, Vixen, what's happening in the Congo has our attention."

"Another crisis to add to the list." Came a wry quip. It was a woman's voice, softer and sweeter to the ears than the Batman's grim tone. Diana's eyes fell upon the source of those words and saw a beautiful, pale woman with long, lustrous black hair. It was none other than Zatanna Zatara, the Mistress of Magic. The cheerful witch continued, throwing a teasing grin towards the Caped Crusader. "When it rains, it pours. Doesn't it, mister doom and gloom?"

As expected, the Dark Knight of Gotham did not deign to respond to the woman's barb. Instead, the discussion continued as if he hadn't heard a thing. But Diana wasn't listening any longer. No, her eyes were set firmly on the raven-haired magician. Diana Prince had found another potential target.

It was immediately obvious that Zatanna had no issues on the matter of beauty. Whether her looks were magically enhanced or not was irrelevant. The woman was, as many a man would say, a "knockout". In fact, Diana noted that it was a rarity to find a cape who wasn't capable of turning heads. And as befitting a stage magician, Zatanna in particular dressed in a way that

purposefully

drew attention.

Shiny black boots (with heels), black fishnet stockings, frilly white blouse under a cream-colored corset, finished by the iconic top hat and black tailcoat. And all of it was delightfully form-fitting, a superhero staple. A showwoman's get-up and an effective one at that.

Yes, the prospect of taking Zatanna as a bedmate was an alluring one indeed. Surely, Mark would agree. After all, he had already proven copiously just how much he enjoyed the company of a busty brunette. The chance at having two at the same time would have his heart bursting from his chest like one of those old-fashioned cartoons.

But alas, as with Hawkwoman and Vixen, there was a very clear problem with picking Zatanna.

Two

problems, actually.

Problem number one: the woman was known as the Mistress of

Magic.

Zatanna's spot on the Justice League was a testament to her skill and power in the arcane arts. She hadn't earned her reputation as a heroine by being mediocre. No, Zatanna was a witch to be reckoned with. Diana had seen her in action times beyond counting. It was senseless to assume that Mark's spell would even have an effect on the woman.

And on the slim chance that it

did

, Diana and Mark would be left to deal with problem number two: Zatanna was a very close friend of

Bruce Wayne.

The Caped Crusader. The Dark Knight. The kind of man who had the means and the will to surgically destroy any and all nefarious plots that targeted those he loved.

If the issue of Zatanna's magic hadn't discounted her as a viable choice, then the issue of Bruce certainly did. That man getting even a

whiff

of the admittedly questionable nature of Diana and Mark's relationship was beyond a worst case scenario. It would be no less than catastrophic for Diana's reputation. And it would be damn near deadly for Mark. Diana could vividly imagine the kind of pain and torment her lover would undergo at the hands of the Gotham Bat. It turned her stomach. That outcome was

unacceptable.

Simply put, Zatanna Zatara was another no-go.

"-I just think it's ridiculous. We have all these resources - hell, we operate out of a goddamn space station for God's sake - but we can't even keep these yahoos locked up?" Green Arrow's grating voice cut through the air, pulling Diana from the depths of her racing mind. The whining lilt of the man's words were a respite from the horrid thoughts of Mark being broken by a vengeful Batman. The hooded archer continued his complaints. "How many times has Deathstroke - not even this other guy, just Wilson by himself - how many times has he gotten away from us?"

There was an audible scoff from the other end of the table. Diana glanced towards the source and found her vision filled with the sight of a familiar blonde. A blonde who looked

thoroughly

unimpressed by the ranting of her emerald-clothed colleague.

"It's pretty rich that you're the one pointing fingers, Arrow." Snapped the Black Canary. The blonde gave the man a contemptuous sneer, her next words dripping with ice-cold venom. "Especially since

you

were the last guy who tangled with Deathstroke."

Now, Canary wasn't being entirely fair. Everyone at the table knew that Slade Wilson was an exceedingly dangerous man. He had bulldozed his way through the likes of Robin and Batgirl during his most recent prison break, though thankfully both of Batman's pupils survived. But then again, Arrow's complaining was commonplace during these meetings... And

beyond

irritating. Even with the loving heart of an Amazon, Diana couldn't deny the appeal of getting Oliver Queen to shut his big mouth.

"I wouldn't have had to tangle with him at all if we had a way to keep these types behind bars." Green Arrow deflected. The man crossed his arms, frowning - pouting, truly. He didn't so much as glance in Canary's direction.

Huh. Trouble in paradise?

Diana pursed her lips, thinking. The romantic affair between Green Arrow and Black Canary was well known around the Watchtower - the two lovebirds had become notorious for their lack of discretion when it came to sneaking in flirty moments while on duty together. Aside from the friction their behavior caused with Batman, the Archer and the Canary seemed like a happy couple.

But no longer, it seems.

Diana narrowed her eyes, putting her gaze back on the Canary. A break-up was the only logical explanation. It must have been a recent split, too. Last week Canary had been glued to Arrow's side, all smiles and warm talk - a bit too warm to be considered professional, at least between the two of them. Now, the blonde had nothing but sneers and scowls for the hooded man. She sent him nothing but snark and venom and bite. Every sour word she had, she loathed to even direct towards him. All from her new spot at the table, clear at the opposite end. The furthest possible distance she could be from him during the meeting.

Hera, it must have ended badly.

But even bad break-ups could provide new opportunities, Diana reminded herself. The Amazon had a thought then, her mind already racing through the possibilities. For her and Mark... And for the woman who called herself the Black Canary. A smile came next, a tiny curl at the corner of her mouth, barely hiding the want and desire that bubbled just beneath the surface.

Dinah Lance was as beautiful as she was fierce, with her modest height and slender build hiding a skilled and brutal fighter. The Black Canary was a street-brawler that could stand toe-to-toe with the likes of Batman. She had few mortal peers, there being only a handful on the planet who could match her in skill. And if she ever ran into someone she couldn't outfight, Dinah could use her powerful Canary Cry.

The Black Canary was near-untouchable and she knew it. Thus, like many other superheroines, she dressed to

kill.

Her garb was a mix between gentlemen's club hostess and biker attire. And what a tempting sight she was.

Those long, lovely legs wrapped in fishnets - far more revealing than the kind Zatanna wore. Succulent breasts squeezed snugly into a black overbust corset, like the playboy bunnies of decades past. Those shiny, heeled boots that made her ass swell outward from her back so deliciously. And the fingerless gloves and studded leather jacket to finish off the tough honey look.

Provocative indeed. But why the hell not?

Dinah had the goods, so why not show it off as the Black Canary? Those golden tresses, those sensual curves, and that taut body - built for fighting and other delightfully strenuous things - all wrapped up in a scandalous get-up taken right from a showgirl's dressing room.

The Black Canary evoked envy, desire, want,

need.

Enthralling in a way mortals rarely were. The blonde had the kind of fire that could catch Diana's attention. Which meant she had more than enough to be the new thrill of Mark's life.

I think I have my target

, Diana thought with a devious smirk. A verbal skirmish had broken out between the hot-headed birdie and her former beau, but the Amazon's own thoughts drowned them out. While Superman attempted to play mediator, Wonder Woman's eyes were fixated on the blonde brawler.

Diana began to formulate a plan. A

twisted

plan. Not at all unlike the one devised by Mark, the one he enacted to take dominion over Diana's own mind.

The very idea sent a delicious thrill rolling through Diana's body. A pleasant sensation, but also accompanied by a needle of shame. Because deep down, Diana knew that the spell placed over her had done nothing to alter her tastes or her desires. The thought of taking Dinah to bed with Mark

excited

her. And the fact that she,

Wonder Woman

, an icon to women all over the world, was helping her male lover take a fellow superheroine under his thrall? It turned her on. The idea of turning Dinah into Mark's love slave

aroused

her.

These should have been

unsettling

revelations about herself. But all Diana could think about then was how much fun she and Mark would have once they had Dinah at their beck and call.

Who knows? If the break-up was as bad as it seems, treating Dinah to a weekend of fun might end up being good for her.

Yes, that was it. It would be therapeutic, not twisted. It would replenish, not destroy. In their hands, Dinah would be renewed, not broken down.

It would be good for her, the Amazon decided. Just as the spell had been good for Diana.

And Mark will certainly be pleased...

A decision was made then, right there amongst the heroes of the Justice League. Unknown to all, deep within the conquered mind of their mightiest heroine.

The Black Canary would be stripped bare before Mark Messner...

By Wonder Woman's hand!

- - -

4.2

Diana's question came without warning.

"How do you feel about blondes?" She asked, breathless.

The Amazonian princess rolled her hips as she sat upon Mark's lap, moaning sweetly as his manhood strokes against her insides. Mark himself huffed through his nose like an angry bull, his hands taking a firm hold of the warrior woman's waist. Diana's cunt, so impossibly tight and impossibly hot, would be the death of him, Mark knew.

With the molten ecstasy that was wrapped around his cock, Mark didn't immediately register his superhuman lover's question. It took a moment for Diana's words to really settle in his mind. But when they did, Mark found himself

beyond

intrigued.

"I like blondes just fine. But I have a thing for brunettes, to be honest." Mark smirked, drawing one of his hands across Diana's trim belly as the woman writhed on top of him.