It had been about a month since Jones and the other slavers had carried out the Museum Job. The mass abduction had stunned the world, not only had eight of the planets strongest defenders, plus a half dozen other heroines, vanished without a trace, so had nearly a hundred other young women and girls who had been attending the Grand Opening. Those left behind hadn’t been able to offer much, only a few vague recollections of feeling woozy before waking up, hours later, in the hospital. News coverage off the disappearances had been wall to wall for days, hindered slightly since a number of the nation’s top reporters, including Lois Lane, Vicki Vale and Kara Danvers had apparently been among the disappeared.

The Justice League, naturally, swore to locate and rescue all the missing women, and bring those responsible to justice. Superman had been particularly insistent, given he’d lost not only coworkers and friends, but also his cousin and long time girlfriend. Unfortunately, the heroes had little to go on. The obvious culprits, the Legion of Doom, had all been accounted for, taking part in a massive brawl against Superman and the other male league members at the time. Other potential suspects had been floated, from Darkseid to the White Martians to the Sinestro Corp., even Mr. Mxyztplk playing a prank.

Jones had been quite relieved to find the Slavers Guild hadn’t been high up on that list of suspects. While its existence was known to the League, it was also well known the Guild tried its hardest to avoid attracting the attention of heroes. They certainly wouldn’t plan a mass abduction of fourteen of them!

So the days had dragged on, the heroes busting up every villainous lair or clubhouse they could find, looking for the missing heroines, finding nothing. Eventually, other things had cropped up. Reports were sketchy, something about a portal to Apokolips and Darkseid trying to invade again, or maybe Doomsday had returned and started smashing up the place. Rumor had it several of the league members were dead, including Superman and while most didn’t doubt he would be back, sooner or later, the rest of the League were scrambling to cover the holes this, and the abductions had left in their roster and the chaos that was causing. While many hoped the missing heroines and the other women would, eventually, be found and rescued, it slowly dropped off the radar for most people, as they returned to their day to day lives. Meanwhile, for the unfortunate heroines, their training as slaves had continued…

Jones walked through the Slaver’s Guild’s secret training facility, feeling very pleased with himself. Like the facility where they had trained and prepared for the museum heist, this facility had been built specifically to house the dozen or so super captives brought in from that job. Like that one, It’s location was top secret. Even Jones and the other two members of the strike team didn’t know where, exactly, it was. After driving out of the city with the truck containing the fourteen unconscious heroines, the three had had to blindfold themselves, before activating a special autopilot function that brought them the rest of the way here. All Jones knew was it was somewhere out in the middle of nowhere and buried deep underground, if the long car elevator ride they’d taken down had been any indicator.

It was also the toughest looking facility he’d ever seen, reinforced concrete, steel bulkheads and guards, all wearing the same suits Jones and the others had used. Mike and the rest of the Slaver’s Guild were taking no chances of any of the heroines escaping this place and bringing word of who was responsible for their abduction and torture to the rest of the league. Within that impenetrable security was everything they needed: labs for studying the heroines, figuring out how their powers worked and how to control or remove those powers; training rooms where the newly depowered heroines would be broken and prepared for their new lives in bondage and, at the center of it all, ten of the strongest, most high tech cages the slaver’s guild had ever created, to hold the most powerful slaves they had ever taken in their long, inglorious history.

Though Jones and the others had brought in fourteen captives, only two of those cages had doubled-up occupants. Not long after their arrival, just long enough to recheck their restraints, swap out the plugs penetrating their mouths, asses and pussies and get them crated up, Supergirl and Powergirl had been shipped out again, bound for an isolated rendezvous where they could be handed over to Luthor’s agents, as the agreed upon payment for supplying the guild with the advanced tech needed to pull off the job; the super suits and the triple X-13 gas. After they’d identified her among the rest of the haul of normal women and girls, Lois Lane had also been crated up and shipped over, a nice bonus for Luthor, well earned given how successful his gear had been. Jones didn’t know where the three slaves were headed. He guessed Luthor had a facility like this one, hidden somewhere, where he could keep his new prizes in secret while they were broken and trained to serve their master.

Unfortunately for Luthor, he wouldn’t get to handle that part of their new lives personally. He’d been caught during the scuffle with the League and the rest of the Legion of Doom, so his assistant, Mercy Graves, would be overseeing Supergirl, Powergirl and Lois’ training, so by the time her boss managed his most recent escape from prison, he would be greeted by three new, obedient slaves, ready to serve their master. In the meantime, the Guild was working on the other dozen heroines. They had to get them depowered, broken and trained before they could sell any of the heroines.   

Jones passed through another airlock, two massive steel doors that would give Wonder Woman or any of the other heroines pause, in the unlikely event they managed to shake off the drugs they were kept constantly doped with long enough to try to mount an escape attempt. On the other side was a long gallery of doors and windows, looking into the cells where the heroines were being kept and worked on. He slowed his pace, pausing to look into each one as he passed, noting how the slavers were progressing in breaking each one.

In the first cage was the would-be heroine Jones and the others had captured during their trial run of the suits; Sparkler. She’d spent the past few weeks playing guinea pig to the slavers and researchers as they tested out different devices and techniques to control and break the real heroines once they were captured. By now, she’d been largely broken to her collar and chains. Through the one way mirror looking into the cell, Jones could see her kneeling in the center of the space, hands tucked obediently behind her, head bowed, only the occasional twitch or squirm betraying the discomfort she felt both from the massive ballgag wedged between her jaws or the enormous plugs filling both her holes. Submissively waiting the next instruction from her captors.

The six heroines from the future were giving the Guild’s researchers and slave trainers no end of headaches, simply because so little was known about them or their powers. The only way to study them was to lower the dosage of the drugs keeping them under control until their powers returned, while hopefully keeping them too weak to try and escape or fight back. There’d been a few close moments early on, but according to Mike, they were making steady progress.

Saturn Girl was one of the heroines still being kept drugged 24/7, when not being studied. She lay, strapped to an examination chair, limp, asleep, as Jones passed. With her in the cell, a couple of researchers were fiddling with a silver circlet on a table, a panel open revealing complex circuitry inside. It would, in theory, neutralize Saturn Girl’s natural telepathy, reducing her to a normal girl and allowing the slave breakers and trainers to begin their work.

Sharing the cell with her, strapped to an identical restraint chair was Phantom Girl. The slavers had reached a similar point with her. She’d given the slavers the hardest trouble, even the strongest cages being pretty useless against someone who could walk through walls. For the moment, she was being kept in a drugged stupor, while they worked on restraints that would remain intangible with her, keeping her from escaping quickly, while a collar would detect when she activated her powers and administer punishment shocks until she returned to tangibility.

Princess Projectra, likewise, was being kept in a drugged state, strapped to an examination chair, until the researchers could figure out how her ability to conjure illusions worked and how they could nullify it and start her slave training.  

In the third cell, a test was being done on Shrinking Violet. The drugs had been flushed from her system and now the heroine was standing on her feet in the center of the room, surrounded by slavers, two researchers in lab coats, four in suits like Jones’ ready to step in and subdue her if the test didn’t go as expected.

Shrinking Violet was, like the rest of the captive heroines, completely nude apart from her restraints. Her hands were shackled in front of her with odd, silver bands, connected by a short, silver cable to each other and by a longer one to similar shackles on her bare feet. A silver band circled her throat and above it several more were wrapped around her head, holding a metal ball wedged tight between her teeth. The dark haired woman glared, defiantly, at her captors as one of the researchers barked at her to step into the center of the room, where their cameras and monitoring equipment was oriented for the rest.  She shuffled forward slowly, gingerly. Part of that was due to the unfamiliar ankle fetters hobbling her, part of that was the lingering feeling of the huge penetrators that had only recently been removed from her ass and pussy.

As Jones watched through the window, one of the guards stepped forward with a cattle prod and zapped Shrinking Violet on her naked bottom. As intended, this provoked her into resistance. First, she tried shrinking, intending to slip out of her shackles so she could effectively fight back. She got down to a few inches tall, but to her shock and horror, the shackles seemed to shrink with her, remaining locked just as tight around her wrists and ankles and neck, the gag remaining where it was, crushing her jaws apart.

After a second, she returned to normal size. She then tried to go the other way, increasing her size, until the shackles burst open. Again, they kept pace with her, growing in size so they fit the now eight, nine foot tall woman. She could get no bigger, the cell being too strong to let her keep growing. The slavers, meanwhile punished her for her resistance, shocking her again and again with the prods. Her feeble attempts at fighting back were hindered by the restraints limiting her movement. Reluctantly, she returned to normal size, sinking to her knees in defeat. Outside the cage, Jones nodded in satisfaction. Progress was being made.

Progress was likewise being made on the remaining two Legion Heroines. In the fourth cell, Dou Damsel had been fitted with other experimental restraints. Based on samples taken from her costume, the slavers had created a set of shackles, collar and gag that would split along with the heroines. Instead of creating a second, free doppelganger to help her try and escape, there were now two, helpless, chained heroines, ready to be trained to serve their future Master. They shuffled, glumly, around the inside of the cell, looking around for a way out that simply did not exist.

In contrast to the rest of her compatriots from the future, Light Lass’ electrical abilities had been almost trivially easy to identify and easy enough to deal with. The slavers already had everything they needed. In her cell, the heroine had been suspended, upside down, from a ring mounted to the ceiling of the cage, one of many each cell was equipped with, to provide ample choices in securing their helpless occupants. Straps secured her legs at the ankles and knees, while her arms were strapped tight to her sides.

In contrast to the other heroines, Light Lass was the only one of the slaves who wasn’t naked. Her fit, hot body was still just as much on display, however. The tight, full body rubber suit she wore clung close enough to her curves that little was left to the imagination. The strong rubber served well enough, keeping her from manifesting any of the lightning that gave her her name. Someone, Jones didn’t know who, had gone over the rubber suit with an airbrush or something, coloring the black rubber in blue and white, with lightning bolts, in mocking reference to the costume she’d once worn as a heroine.

At the moment, the heroine swung back and forth rapidly, spurred on by her frantic struggles. At the crotch of the rubber suit, there was a slight bulge, where a zippered opening allowed access to her pussy and anus. Both had been stuffed with large vibrating penetrators, currently turned on full. Jones was given to understand both were rigged so, whenever the former heroine tried to use her powers, it would actually recharge the penetrators, increasing and prolonging her torment. A screen set up in one corner of the cell, well out of range of the swinging captive, kept a tally of how long she’d been going. Currently, it was up to eight hours and climbing. Muffled moans, of pleasure and distress in equal measure, escaped the thick rubber hood covering Light Lass’ face. It was tight enough the outline of her face, very much in distress, could be seen, including the bulge of the penetrator jammed between her teeth as a gag. Eventually, she’d learn better and her slave training could begin in earnest.

Jones left her to continue swinging, and moved on to the cells where the League Heroines, minus the already delivered Kryptonians were being kept. The Guild had had much more luck with these women, given they had a treasure trove of information; interviews, footage of previous fights, information provided from villains that had fought them before, with which to prepare to contain, depower and eventually enslave these heroines.

Zatanna, Black Canary and Mary Marvel had been the easiest to depower, as their abilities were completely dependent on being able to speak, something the slavers knew how to deprive their captives of. With Black Canary it was obvious, while with Zatanna, a study of what information there was about her heroic activities quickly confirmed she needed to be able to speak in order to cast her spells.

With Mary Marvel, however, it had taken some figuring out. Jones, Pete and John had been more than a little surprised, and alarmed, when they had been unloading the heroines from the bins they’d transported them in and into the trucks, to find that, while unconscious, Mary Marvel had...changed. It was still the same girl, but she was smaller, somewhat younger looking. They’d shrugged, tightened her restraints again to account for the change and delivered her with the rest of the captured heroines.

It was only later, after they’d woken her up and removed her gag that they discovered that she could change into her super powered form, by speaking the word: ‘Shazam!’ but while in her normal form, she was an ordinary girl, like countless others the slavers had abducted. In fact, after some research had identified her alter ego as one Mary Batson, Mike had been surprised to find her name among a list of girls planned for eventual abduction and enslavement. Only the delay caused by preparing for this job had avoided a rather unpleasant surprise for whichever slaver had been assigned her kidnapping.

At the moment, all three were at work in their cells, starting their training as new sex slaves. Black Canary was on her knees, a ring-gag between her teeth, putting that mouth of hers to better use then blasting slavers with sonic screams. Zatanna likewise, was on her knees, hands and feet strapped. The thick panel gag she wore had been fitted with a brush attachment. A bucket of soapy water stood beside, with which the former heroine scrubbed the floor of her cell. A burly slaver stood over with, crop in hand, to make sure she didn’t falter in her work. Mary Marvel, meanwhile, was currently riding the wooden horse, her arms lashed behind her back and raised in a tight strappedo while her legs straddled the steep side of the horse, the point of which pressed hard against her sensitive sex. Needless to say, all three still had large plugs jammed deep inside their other holes.

Jones watched the three for a minute longer. All three were coming along in their training quite well. Deprived of their powers, they were nothing but mundane women, and the Guild knew how to effectively break and train ordinary women and turn them into quality slaves. Soon, the three would realize and accept that escape was impossible, no rescue was coming and that soon they would have to accept their new role in life as slaves, serving whoever eventually bought them.

Before that happened, though, the Guild would have to decide what sort of long term solution to their powers would be done. For now, gags were sufficient, provided the slavers were careful not to remove them for too long without replacement. But there was always a chance, after they were sold, of their buyer getting careless and letting them escape, which would have bad consequences for the Guild once it became known who had been behind their abductions. To make sure that never happened, some of the researchers were working on a special compound. Injected into a girl’s throat, the powerful paralytic would paralyze the vocal cords, permanently, rendering the heroines mute for the rest of their lives. Not that they’d have much chance to say anything anyway…

With another, satisfied nod, Jones headed on to the next set of cells and the final trio of heroines, the three Amazons: Wonder Woman, Wonder Girl and Hippolyta. Of all the heroines, they were giving the slavers the most headaches, trying to find some way to depower them or to control them. Unfortunately, their strength, speed, reflexes, those were all an innate part of their Amazonian physique. As far as the Slavers Guild researchers had been able to determine, there was no way completely depower them.

“If only it were a simple as just tying her up…” Jones thought with a chuckle. He was good at that, but dealing with the complex and often contradictory science of super beings was a little out of his area of expertise.

So, Mike and Jones had finally decided, if they couldn’t remove the Amazon’s powers, they’d simply have to find someway to break them into obedient slaves while still super strong and tough. After putting their heads together, they had worked out a plan they thought just might work.

Jones raised a hand to the scanner beside the door to the final cell. It beeped, recognizing him and opened with a pneumatic hiss. Jones stepped inside. The cell was bare of furniture, apart from three examination chairs, bolted securely to the floor in a row, side by side. The three amazons were seated on the examination chairs, their hands, feet, torsos and heads all securely strapped in place. Close by was a small table, laid out with everything they’d need.

Wonder Woman was seated in the center, her mother Hippolyta on her left and her sister Wonder Girl on the right. All three were still unconscious, limp in the seat straps. They’d been kept in a drugged state since their abduction, having no idea where they were or what was being done to them and the rest of their fellow heroines. Jones grinned. Today they were about to find out...

Mike was standing in the cell, watching the three nude Amazons with a delighted grin. Waiting in the corners were four more slavers dressed in super suits. One was Pete, another John. The other two Jones didn’t recognize. They were there in case this idea Jones and Mike had come up with didn’t pan out. With any luck, they’d be able to keep the Amazonians under control long enough for the system to register the escape attempt. When it did, the whole chamber would flood with Triple X-13 gas, putting the heroines back under.

With a nod towards Mike and the others, Jones stepped forward. The seats of the examination chairs were split down the center, giving the slavers full access to each occupant’s asses and pussies. All three had both holes filled with penetrators, but they’d been swapped out. Hippolyta and Wonder Girl’s were loaded with a diluted dosage of the same knockout drugs, while Wonder Woman’s had a different compound altogether.

“Wake.” Jones said to the suit, raising a hand. From one of the wrist nozzles, a small spray of gas shot out, into the face of the Amazon Queen. Turning, he did the same to her younger daughter, Wonder Girl. The gas was designed to counteract the effects of the knockout drugs, waking the three back up. In the case of Hippolyta and Wonder Girl, the penetrators with the mild dose kept them from coming fully to. Though they regained consciousness, they remained in the same weakened state they had been in the museum, unable to use their full, tremendous strength to break free. In theory anyway. The slavers were trying to get the dosages right, one of the things they hoped this little experiment would tell them.

After a minute, the two captive women started coming to. Their eyes fluttered, slowly opening. Confused looks showed on their faces as they struggled to comprehend the strange feelings, the plugs in their mouths and between their legs, the tight, cold steel bands at their arms and legs and throats…

Faces went pale, eyes wide with shock and fear as the two realized they were not safe back at home, on Paradise Island or in their quarters onboard the JLA watchtower. Instead, they found themselves prisoners and lowly prisoners at that, stripped and gagged; awful, degrading plugs penetrating their vulnerable bodies, surrounded by cruel and callous captors. As they looked around, nervously, the two spotted each other and the yet unconscious Wonder Woman. The two gave long moans of despair, seeing they weren’t alone in their shame and peril. It was especially degrading for Wonder Girl, finding herself stripped and plugged in front of her mother, while for Hippolyta, the anguish of seeing her two lovely daughters treated so shamefully and cruelly treated was clear on her face.

For a few minutes, both struggled against their bonds, the shock and horror, evident on their faces and in their moans of anguish as they found themselves too weak to break the steel shackles holding them to the chairs, like they expected. When it became apparent all they were doing was wearing themselves out, the two slumped down in their restraints, defeated, trembling as they waited to see what their captors had planned for them.

For the moment, Jones ignored them, as did Mike and the rest of the slavers. He turned his attention to the still unconscious Wonder Woman. The antidote to the knockout drugs was applied. Unlike her mother and sister though, she didn’t have anymore of the drugs entering her system, keeping her weak and sluggish. She came too quickly, alert and horrified by her current, embarrassing predicament, naked, shackled to the examination chair, the shameful plugs uncomfortable between her legs. Her anger only increased as she looked around and saw her mother and Wonder Girl in the same terrible position on either side of her.

“Good morning, Wonder Woman.” Jones said, teasingly, though he had no idea what time it was above ground. The heroines looked up at him, eyes burning with righteous fury, but for the moment, she remained where she was, biding her time, hoping to figure out where they were and how they’d ended up in this awful mess. Waiting for Jones to give his monologue, in other words.

Talk Jones was more than happy to do, though he was careful not to let slip any information that might be of use to the heroines, if they were ever able to escape their fate. “You don’t need to know where you are, except that it is somewhere far from Metropolis and you don’t need to know who we are, except that, as of this moment, you may regard myself and my associate,” he nodded to Mike, “As your new Masters, at least…” he chuckled. “Until we finish your training and sell you, that is.”

There were dismayed moans from the three heroines at this announcement, but Jones noted Wonder Woman had a determined look on her face. Plenty had tried to break the mighty Amazon before and none had succeeded in forcing a slave’s collar on her. Surely, in their meager attempts, Jones and his accomplices would make some mistake, allowing her to get free, rescue her mother and the other heroines and exact some suitable punishment for the indignities they had been made to suffer.    

Jones decided to push things a little further. He needed to test some things out, before they could proceed with his plan. He walked over to Hippolyta, while continuing to talk. “I assure you, we have considerable experience breaking and selling women. I doubt you three will be that much more of a challenge than any other weak willed woman. There will be quite a market for beautiful amazons like yourselves.” As he said this, he extended his hands out to cup Hippolyta’s bared breasts. He’d sampled countless women’s breasts and the Amazon Queen had a rack that was second to none, save for maybe her daughter’s. Her reaction made it all the more enjoyable, stiffening in an instant, a look of outrage on her face, giving a muffled cry of indignation, that a filthy man would dare to treat the Queen of the Amazons so callously. “Such nice udders, wonder if they’d be good for milking?”

Her daughter had a similar reaction, grunting into her own gag, muffled threats, no doubt, to leave her mother alone. Jones nodded, continuing to squeeze and pinch and grope. He moved over towards Wonder Girl who squirmed in her chair, knowing her own firm, round breasts were about to get the same rough treatment. “These are very nice, you know that? I wonder if your future buyer will have these pierced.” He pinched her tiny, pink nipples, playfully tugging on them. “A couple of nice gold rings hanging on the ends of these teats. You’d look like a proper slave then.” Wonder Girl sobbed into her gag, trying to squirm away from his grasping hands, but there was nowhere she could go.

Beside her, Wonder Woman was also grunting, angrily into her gag. The powerful amazon began to strain against the steel restraints keeping her pinned to the examining chair. The heavy bolts began to twist and bend. In seconds, they would break and she would be free. Nearby, the other suited slavers started to edge forward, preparing to rush her if this didn’t work.

“Sit down!” Jones said, in a sharp, insistant voice. To the shock of everyone, her most of all, Wonder Woman complied, ceasing her straining against the metal bands. She shook her head, trying to figure out what had just happened. Before she could summon up the will to resume her struggles, Jones moved from Wonder Girl over to the table and picked something up. As he turned back towards Wonder Woman her eyes widened in the shock of recognition. It was her Golden Lasso of Truth!

The slavers had taken it off her, along with the rest of her clothes, after she’d been taken down and captured at the museum. Since then, Jones had been doing a bit of research on it, along with the rest of the Amazon’s powers. In addition to its utility as a virtually unbreakable, extendable length of rope, a person bound with the rope, or even simply touching it could be compelled to speak the truth or to obey the will of its wielder: Wonder Woman.

The heroines expression showed she was aware of this. As Jones tied the lasso into a simple loop, draping it around her head and pulling it snug, a grin crossed her mouth, behind her gag. Though this slaver held the free end of the rope and the other tied around her neck, the rope was controlled by the one with the stronger will. She would force this fool to submit to her, free her, her mother and Wonder Girl, then the three of them would bring down the slavers and their operation and free all of their other helpless captives. After all, whose will was stronger then the Amazon Princess’?

And she would have been right, except that for the last several hours, the slavers had been dosing her through the plugs with the strongest, will sapping drugs they had developed in their long and, so far, fruitless quest for a more effective means of breaking and training obedient slaves without resorting to the usual whips and chains and torture. True brainwashing in other words. While a stable, lasting treatment without side effects or extensive risks had not been found, this cocktail would, hopefully, sap enough of the Amazon’s willpower, letting Jones dominate her with the lasso, instead of the other way around.

Jones took the free end in one hand. Behind and to the sides of him, he was aware some of the other slavers keeping a close eye on him. If this didn’t work, and Wonder Woman was able to force him to submit, they would have to take him down as well as her, lest he be forced to try and free her or the other heroines. He did his best to ignore that, focusing his attention on the rope in his hand and the naked, scowling woman seated in front of him.

As his grip tightened on the rope, he was surprised to find he could suddenly feel her, through the rope, the beating of her heart, rapid and quick, frightened by her predicament and those of her family and friends, but ready in an instant for violence. He could feel her emotions as well, her anger at him and the slavers, a burning desire to bring them to justice and to save all of their helpless victims and, beneath that, a wave of shame at how they had been treated, callously stripped, fondled, shackled and gagged, cruel plugs forced into their bodies against their wills to humiliate and drug them. And just a hint of fear that, if she failed here, this would be their fate forever…

As contact was made, Wonder Woman could sense him as well. Weakened as she was, she was more experienced with the lasso and its effects and pushed hard against his will. “Give up.” Jones heard her voice inside his head, sweet and sexy as any he’d ever heard, but at the same time sharp and authoritative, like a particularly hot teacher he’d had once in first grade. “You will release me, my mother, Wonder Girl, all of the heroines you’ve captured.” The voice continued. Jones’ hand trembled. Almost on its own, it had started to move towards one of the metal straps, binding Wonder Woman’s arms to the chair. He forced himself to be still.

Somehow, Jones weathered the initial wave of compulsion and began to push back, trying, awkwardly, to force his own will the other way, pushing back, through the lasso into Wonder Woman’s mind. It was clouded, confused, by the haze of will sapping drugs coursing through her body. “You will submit.” He thought, “You are no longer a heroine, you are a slave. You are no longer Wonder Woman, you are Wonder Slave! I am your master. You must obey your master…”  he could start to feel the pushback, the surprise, shock and growing fear on her end as his words began to filter into her mind.

“No! You will let me go!” Wonder Woman tried again, but this time Jones was ready for it and didn’t flinch.

“You are a slave. You will obey!” He continued, pressing this again and again. Inside the other woman’s mind, he could feel her emotions beginning to shift. Her righteous anger began to fade, the fear growing stronger and stronger as she realized that, against all reason, this mortal man somehow had the will to compel her, to control her.

Disbelief registered on her face. She was no longer trying to fight to control Jones’ mind, merely to hang onto her own. “No! No! No! I am not a slave! I am not a slave!” She thought, desperation entering the mental voice. Her real voice, meanwhile, moaned something unintelligible, but likely the same chorus of denials, around the thick shaft of the gag in her mouth.  

Confident now in his ability to dominate her in her present, weakened state, Jones decided on an experiment. “You love being a slave, Wonder Slave! You love being kept naked and collared and gagged! The feeling of ropes and shackles and chains makes you wet between your legs.”

“No! No! No!” Wonder Woman continued trying to deny, but now Jones could feel a new emotion inside her, a flutter in her breast, a few wisps of arousal which he did his best to fan into a full, roaring flame.

“There’s nothing you like more than being a slave. You want your master to tie you up, to whip you and beat you. You will always ask for more punishment. You crave his cock between your legs! You love the taste of his cum in your mouth. You’re always begging for more. You want everyone to see that you are a slave! You want them to see you naked and chained up and collared! You want everyone to know you are Wonder Slave!”

“No! No-es! Yes! Yes!” Wonder Woman finally began to give in. Jones could feel her new, submissive arousal take complete control of her. On the examination chair, he could see the physical effects of this. She was dripping wet around the plugs plunged deep inside her, an expression of joy was wrapped around her gag.

“What are you?” Jones asked.

“I am Wonder Slave, Master!” She replied, eagerly accepting her new title.

“What is your only thought in life?” He asked.

“To serve my master obediently!”

“What do you want your master to do with you?” Jones asked.

“To tie me up and whip me and use me however he wants!” She practically screamed into his mental ear.

“Good, slave.” Jones said. On the chair in front of him, Wonder Woman shuddered as she climaxed, thrilled to receive the praise from her master. He sensed that by now her will was completely broken, she had submitted completely to her new role as slave.

“Now the final test.” Jones thought, setting the rope down. Would the mental domination persist, after the rope was removed? Only one way to find out. He reached forward and removed the lasso. Turning, he nodded to one of the other slavers, who stepped forward and cautiously, almost gingerly, unlocked the first of the restraints. At any moment, he expected her to leap up and begin fighting back, but the captive heroine remained seated where she was, even giving a quiet murmur of disappointment as she was freed from her restraints.

Over the next couple of minutes, Wonder Woman was completely freed. The restraints were all unlocked and opened up, her gag was unbuckled and the plug slid out with a long trail of drool. The twin plugs inside her were removed, causing the young woman to shiver as they slid out of her well lubricated sex. When they finished, she sat, demurely, in the seat, head bowed slightly, hands now folded in her lap. Her eyes flickered back to the restraints on the chair, as if wanting to feel them on her wrists and ankles again. Nearby, Hippolyta and Wonder Girl watched, in shock and confusion, wondering what could be causing her odd behavior.

Jones, meanwhile, had returned to the table, The Lasso of Truth was set back in place. He now picked up another item, holding it so Wonder Woman couldn’t see what it was just yet. It was a collar, not unlike the hundreds, maybe thousands locked around the necks of all the other slaves the Guild had abducted and broken over the years, but had a few alterations made.

Firstly, it incorporated several safety features, drug injectors, shock nodes, trackers, that would serve as a backup to the mental conditioning, should she regain her will at some point in the future. Secondly, the outside had been decorated, with a metal facade, colored in gold and white. In the front and center, just above the usual ring for attaching a leash or coffle chain was a white star and the collar had been formed so it just so happened to resemble the golden tiara she had worn as a heroine and a symbol of her status as the Champion of Women, now reformed into her new mark of slavery.  

Jones turned, letting the slave see her new collar. For a brief second, there was a flicker of anger across her face, as her old will struggled to reassert itself, reacting with horror at the perversion of her symbol into a slave collar, but it was quickly smothered by her new personality, a wave of submission and arousal crossing her face as she considered the collar around her neck, proclaiming to the world her new status as Wonder Slave.

Eagerly, she bounded up out of the chair, hurrying over to Jones, a grin plastered across her face. “Kneel, slave!” Jones ordered. Her conditioning took hold and in an instant she sank to her knees, bowing her head and folding her hands behind her back. Even so, she couldn’t help but glance up at the collar again and again, biting her lip as each thought sent thrills of pleasure shooting through her at the thought she would soon be wearing it around her neck.

Still locked in their chairs, Hippolyta and Wonder Girl whimpered into their gags to see the Amazon Princess reduced to this, knowing there was nothing they could do to help save her, nothing they could do to save themselves, when their turn came.

“What is your name, slave?” Jones asked.

“Wonder Slave, Master.” Wonder Woman said in a soft, submissive voice.

“Do you want this collar?” Jones asked.

“Oh yes, Master!” She purred with a sigh of pleasure.

“Why?”

“So that the whole world will know I am Wonder Slave and that you are my Master!” She responded eagerly, drawing further moans of horror from the other captives. Jones held out the collar. Eagerly, Wonder Slave reached forward and grabbed it, opening the hinged metal pieces and closing them around her neck. When the two ends met, the mechanisms clicked into place, permanently locking the collar on around her throat. She shivered in pleasure, pushed almost to the brink of orgasm by the act of final submission.

Jones grinned in triumph. He turned to Mike. “I think we can call this a successful test. Let’s get the other two dosed straight away and do the same with them. Then I think we can go ahead and put these beauties on the market. Bidding for them should be fast.” At his feet, Wonder Slave moaned in pleasure at the thought of all those men seeing her naked, chained up, bidding for a chance to own her, to do whatever they wanted with her.

In the chairs, the other two slaves whimpered in terror, knowing there was nothing they could do to stop this. Their only hope was currently kneeling at Jones’ feet, grinning at the feeling of her new collar, encircling her neck. Wonder Girl stared, face pale, eyes wide with shock, while Hippolyta hung her head, weeping bitterly, seeing her daughter brought low, knowing she would soon share the same fate.

“Just one more thing...” Mike said, giving a sly nod. They two had talked earlier, one additional thing if they proved successful here, and they most certainly had.

“Of course.” Jones replied, with a shrug. He turned back to Wonder Slave. “Just a few questions before I gag you again.” He directed her to get back into the chair and reapplied the shackles, something she quite enjoyed from the look, though her eye went to the gag beside it, wanting to feel it filling her mouth again soon. To make doubly sure, Jones grabbed the Lasso of Truth once more and tied it to her again. Once more, he could feel her emotions, her inner turmoil. The shreds of the woman she had once been were still there, flickering, struggling for life, but were all but smothered now under the new submissiveness and arousal at her new status in life. Whether they could hang on, return, or if they’d be smothered out and she would remain a submissive slave the rest of her life, Jones couldn’t tell, but for the time being a slave she would remain.

“Tell me, slave,” Jones asked, keeping a tight grip on the Lasso and his will as strong as he could. “Tell me the location of this ‘Paradise Island’ you came from? Where is it? How many other Amazons are there?” Recognition crossed Wonder Slave’s mind immediately. With that knowledge, the slavers could easily find her home, enslave the other amazons living there. For a few seconds, she hesitated, love of her home and her people briefly struggling against her desire to be an obedient slave. Nearby, Hippolyta trembled with fright, knowing the danger to her Queendom and her people, but as ever, helpless to do anything but be a helpless spectator to the enslavement of her daughter, her people and herself.

“Don’t you want that, Wonder Slave?” Jones imprinted his will onto her. “They’d be so happy as slaves. Just like you.” This pushed things over the edge. Opening her mouth, Wonder Slave quickly told the men everything they wanted to know. Mike held a recorder up to her mouth, making sure not a detail was missed. Nearby, Hippolyta slumped down in her bonds, fresh tears flowing forth. Her people were doomed to slavery, her daughter the instrument of their enslavement.

“Good job slave.” Jones told her, untying the lasso. For a brief moment, as the truth of what she’d done set in, part of Wonder Woman’s old personality resurfaced, just long enough for her to look up and, in a weak voice say, “Yo-you’ll ne-never get away...wi-with this...ma-Master.” Even in her defiance, she couldn’t resist the subconscious urge to submit to her new master.  

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Jones told her, sliding the gag back between her lips. Her new submissive joy at the restraints pushed her brief defiance back down and she murmured with joy as the straps were tightened. She gave another squeal of joy as the plugs were once more inserted deep into her holes. They’d been reloaded with Triple X-13 gas, set to full strength. They’d need to see whether her conditioning would persist over time. When they next woke her up, would it be Wonder Woman who came to, or Wonder Slave?

Wonder Girl and Hippolyta also received new plugs. Their squeals of outrage had a note or horror to them. In addition to a full strength dosage of the knockout drugs, these also incorporated the will-sapping drugs that had let Jones dominate Wonder Woman and reduce her to a slave so easily. The other two amazons squirmed and fought their bonds, but there was no stopping the slavers from callously shoving the plugs deep inside them. Their moans turned to soft whimpers of fright and silence as they slipped, uneasily, into unconsciousness once more. When they woke it, they would be ready to have their wills broken and be remade into obedient slaves, like Wonder Slave.

“This could be a very useful thing to have.” Jones nodded, as technicians came in. One of them cleared the table of the remaining things, the Lasso going into a special locked case. Other technicians collected the data from the suite of sensors that had been monitoring Wonder Woman during her final moments of resistance and after, while others set up new ones to track her mental state during her latest stretch of drugged sleep and others to do the same with Wonder Girl and Hippolyta in preparation for their own taste of the Lasso. “We might try it out on some of the other heroines, maybe even a few stubborn cases back in the main base.”

“Sure, sure…” Mike replied, absentmindedly as the two of them walked for the door.  “In the meantime, we’ve got some auctions to set up and I’ve got plans to make.” He patted the pocket with the recorder, carrying on it all the details Wonder Slave had provided about Paradise Island and the Amazons there.

“You’re really planning to try and take over the Amazon’s island?” Jones asked, incredulously.

Mike nodded, grinning. “Well, why not? They’re leaderless, their Queen and their biggest champions are locked up here, getting ready to be sold, and I doubt they’d be expecting it. Nobody knows how to find the island, after all.” He patted the recorder again. “We’ve a window of opportunity, I say grab it while it’s there.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?” Jones teased playfully.

“Come on, Jones?” Mike teased back. “Can you imagine it? An entire island of that,” he nodded back in the direction of the cell and its three sleeping occupants. “Just waiting for us to show up with the collars and chains. And afterwords? Well, I’m sure you could imagine having a secret island all to ourselves as a base could be quite useful. What do you say?”

Jones was silent a second, thinking things over. On the face of it, it was crazy. While not as strong as Wonder Woman, or even Wonder Girl, the normal Amazons were supposed to be crazy strong as fast anyway, and he doubted they could get all of them in the same sort of the gas trap they’d gotten the heroines with. The suits would put the slavers on roughly equal footing, he supposed, but you’d need an army of guys like that. “Of course, Mike’ll have the money for that after we sell this lot.” He added mentally. It was hard to tell how much the heroines would fetch on the market, since no one had sold a heroine as a slave before, but the conservative total for selling all of them was comfortably in the billions.

“Still, probably a fool’s errand and it’s not like I need the money…” Jones continued. Sure enough, his own share from this job ought to be enough to set him up for life, a house somewhere isolated and half a dozen or even a dozen choice slaves from the Guild’s catalog to see to every perverted wish his heart could ever want. It wasn’t worth it to risk all that, after winning the jackpot on one long bet, to put it all on another long shot.

On the other hand, it wasn’t like he’d gotten into this business for the money. It was the thrill of the job, the joy of taking down the bitches, getting them stripped, roped up and introducing them to their new lives as slaves. After getting the chance to do that with a dozen plus superheroines, that would be hard to top, but an entire Island of hot Amazons? That just might be enough. After this, he’d already be a legend among slavers, doing it again would only solidify that.

“Hmm...well maybe when you make your plans you let me know.” Jones replied, trying to sound casual, without much success. “So I can tell you you’re crazy for sure.” But he already knew that, whatever happened, he’d be on the team heading for Paradise Island and Mike knew it to. Grinning, the two slavers walked through the dungeon past the cells containing the captured heroines, heroines no more, soon to be slaves...