And so Wonder Woman's longest day continued and worsened. She maintained just enough of her heroic persona to be outraged at her continued mistreatment, and to continue offering increasingly desperate and empty threats whenever her mouth wasn't full - but that wasn't that often. But with every spluttering of outrage, every increasingly feeble and pathetic attempt to free herself, she only grew more panic-struck at the situation she found herself in.
And as appalling as each brutal ass or doggy fuck was upon her, it was those at the front who were by far the worst; as each sweaty ballbag bounced into her helpless face, and stagnant bell-end pressed against her drooling lips; each time she shocked herself anew at her incapability to deny or even hinder entry, or her most savage bites only being received as loving caresses. What was wrong with her?
She was Wonder Woman - the most powerful Superheroine on Earth and she was completely helpless being repeatedly gang-raped by some of the vilest criminals in society; and her giant tits were stuck in the most brutal of vices; bringing her unrelenting and indescribable agony that she couldn't do anything to reduce. Instead, with each each squirt of milk, they swelled to replace it, just a little bit larger and more agonised than before.
And, in complete horror at her renewed shameful disgrace, her horrendous pain only exacerbated the eroticism coursing through her every pore. How could she be being turned on by this? How could she be repeatedly orgasming? What was happening to her? Where was her self-control? She should be appalled by everything that was happening to her - not spasming uncontrollably and squirting across the room when anyone so much as touched her cheek.
And they just kept on coming. How many of them were they? And were they coming back for seconds? Was she going to spend the rest of her life as nothing more than a sex toy for these - beasts? Could she never regain her abilities and get herself out of this situation?
Wonder Woman was no longer capable of telling the time, or keeping count of the men that abused her. But after multiple hours they eventually had had their fill, strolling off laughing to their duties for the day. And they left behind them a spunk-covered weeping ball of flesh so far removed from the the dynamic heroine that once they had known.
And the Guards gleefully informed her that it was time for her to move on...
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