Oathbound Ch. 01byTracker66©
Countless men (and more than a few women) before me have dreamed of capturing Wonder Woman. I'd love to tell you stories of my ingenuity and iron will, taking a woman who could tear steel in half and decimate half an army and making her mine by sheer superiority.
Well, actually, no I wouldn't love to tell you that, because that's not my thing. But even if we stipulate it was, I couldn't do that. Not and be truthful. The honest truth is, I was lucky.
It was another one of these apocalyptic wars between hero and villain that sometimes litter the landscape. The Justice League was fighting some coalition of villains, and it was a no-holds-barred affair. Superman was facing off against both Bizarro and Black Adam. Batman had his hands full with the Joker, the Penguin and Captain Cold. The Flash was being pinned down by Zoom and -- oh God, I don't know who they all were. I just know it was not going well, and I was caught downtown in Keystone City when it was happening.
And I saw her fight. And she was glorious.
That's the only word. She was glorious. She was glory incarnate. Everything about her made me believe in her.
And I lusted after her. Just like everyone else. Straight women see Diana of Themyscira, and they want her. Gay men reconsider heterosexuality when they see her. I'm not convinced some strains of houseplant don't hunger for her.
Then again, it was a plant that got her. Or a plant girl. Poison Ivy. I know, it seems weird -- here's a green chick that Batman beats every time they meet. Someone who can throw trucks around shouldn't have any problem with her. But she nailed Wonder Woman with some kind of gas bomb. Spores, maybe. Or some sort of mutant plant strain. I don't know what it was, but it made her rubbery, and made her choke. She threw a punch that knocked Poison Ivy back into next week, but the damage had been done.
I watched her plummet then. Fall to Earth, hitting the pavement hard enough to shatter the macadam. Not ten feet away from me.
Helpless. And the bad guys knew it. Deathstroke leapt for her, almost too fast to be seen, and he was clearly going for a kill -- only the Flash tackled him in the last second. The two of them rolled out of the way, and for the moment everyone was too busy to kill or save the Amazon.
Everyone but me.
I'm no one special. I have a degree in English, and a job in a bookstore. But right then, I was the only one near her.
So I crawled out, and I dragged her back. She was shivering, and even her shivers practically threw me back. This woman was strong. But I got her out of the line of fire, and back into an alley. There I picked her up -- not so easy, actually. She's tall, and really strong, so she's heavier than you'd expect for someone so drop dead gorgeous -- and ran to my car.
Why? I can't say. I just knew I had to get out of there or I'd get killed, and if I left her behind in that state, she would get killed. At the time, I'd like to think my intentions were noble.
But I'm no hero. I'm no paragon of virtue. And honestly, what would you have done? I just did it better.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I got her in my car, and reclined her seat, and threw an old blanket over her so she wouldn't be obvious. She moaned softly as I buckled her in, and then I pulled out and got the Hell out of there. I live North of the city, in a small apartment in the basement of a townhouse.
How I got her out of my car, down the stairs and into the apartment I couldn't tell you. How no one saw me I'll never know. Like I said, I was lucky. And my heart was pounding. Here she was -- an Amazon, practically a goddess. And she was in my apartment, unconscious.
I admit. I was tempted right then and there. Peel the costume off her. Do something -- take her. I wanted her.
But I didn't. I didn't because I'm not a rapist. Not like that, anyway. And I didn't because I was scared to death. Scared she'd wake up and tear my arms off. Scared Batman or Superman would show up looking for her -- or one of the Supervillains would find her there.
So I put her on my couch. She lay there, muscles flexing, a sheen of sweat covering her as her amazon body fought the poisons flowing through it. She moaned more than once, but even her moans were strong -- defiant.
And I stared at her. Stared at those legs as they moved, her hips as they shifted. Stared at her breasts and her face and her parted lips. At the rope -- the golden rope tightly held in her hand.
And then she convulsed, throwing an arm out. She caught a bit of the wall, shattering a chunk of drywall like it was tissue paper and exposing the beams beyond it, crying out as her eyes flew open, the lasso falling to the floor.
"It's okay! It's okay!" I shouted. "You're safe!"
"Monsters!" she cried, swinging at the air -- I could feel the rush from it like a stiff wind. I saw her eyes -- her pupils were blown. Jesus Christ, I thought. The most powerful woman on Earth's having a bad trip in my apartment!
She tried to throw herself forward, but she collapsed on the floor. "The visions," she hissed. "I can't -- I must..."
"Can you hear me?" I shouted. "Can you hear me? You've been poisoned! Drugged! You have to stop! You have to stop fighting or you'll take the building down!"
"I -- how can I... what is... Faust! Away with you-- no. No..." She shook her head, her eyes closed tightly as she tried to clear the maelstrom in her thoughts. "Are you real?" she asked, her voice soft as she breathed hard.
"I'm real," I said quietly.
"I can't... I need... must... must anchor. Must anchor to truth...."
"What... what can I do?"
She moaned. "The lasso," she hissed. "The lasso."
And I got it.
The lasso was magic. It was part of her legend. Wrap someone in Wonder Woman's golden lasso and they were compelled to tell the truth. Wonder Woman couldn't tell what was real and what was fake -- she was trapped in delirium. The lasso represented truth she couldn't find any more.
"Okay," I said, verrrrry slowly sliding closer to the drugged amazon. "Okay. I'm going to wrap you up in the lasso, okay? I don't want you to fight me, okay? If you fight me... you'll kill me."
"The voice of Darkseid," she whispered. "The voice of evil."
"I'm not Darkseid," I said, lullingly. Soothingly. "I'm not going to hurt you." Carefully, I picked up the rope from where she dropped it. It was smooth -- it felt like metallic cable, but was as flexible as hemp. It was light, too -- this stuff was amazing.
"I... you... I...." she was breathing more raggedly. She looked feverish. She looked horrible.
Slowly... ever so slowly, I wrapped the rope around her upper body. I was behind her, in hopes that if she flailed, she'd flail forward and I wouldn't be killed.
As soon as the rope was draped around her, her muscles relaxed and she slumped forward. She was still feverish, still sweating, but she wasn't trying to fight off invisible parademons or anything.
"Are you okay?"
"I am in a state of confusion," she half-whispered, like her voice was in a trance.
"You are? The lasso didn't cure you?"
"Under the lasso's influence, the hallucinations have faded," she whispered again. "It compels truthful answers from me and gives me enough sense of what is real to not be a threat."
"So... so you're answering like you are because the lasso forces you to answer truthfully, even though you can barely think?"
"Yes." Her voice was soft. Almost docile.
My heart pounded. "Are you a threat? I mean, are you dangerous to me right now?"
Straightforward enough. I swallowed. "How can I neutralize you as a threat to me?" I wasn't thinking in terms of capture, mind. I just didn't want her to accidentally kill me.
"Tie me up in the lasso," she murmured. "As securely as possible. Deny me as much mobility as possible. The lasso's compulsion should keep me focused on where I really am, and if it fails it can hold even me."
"You'll let me do that?"
"So long as at least one strand is coiled around me, I should continue to be anchored. I will not fight you while anchored, though the poisons might make me convulse." It was so strange. Her breath was labored, her body slick with sweat. She was clearly in agony and her mind overwhelmed, but her voice was calm and complete in its answers.
"Okay," I said, softly, and began to work. I made sure to first loop one end of the rope around her, tied with a simple bow. Then, I began to wrap coils around her -- around her hands and legs, encouraging her to bend her knees to make it tight, arms and legs bound together behind her.
It sounds submissive, and it is. It's what I knew how to do. I had an ex girlfriend who got off on being tied up, and I'd gotten good practice in immobilizing her. And I'll admit I was getting pretty turned on. She was sweaty and gorgeous and there, and I was wrapping ropes around her, my hands sliding close to the undersides of her breasts, and then around her thighs... God, I can remember it even now.
And then I was done. She was on her knees, secured and leaning forward, the rope taut enough to hold her in place.
"Are you all right?" I asked, softly.
"No, I am nauseous," she said in that compelled voice. "My body feels like it is on fire. My heart is pounding and I am scared."
"You're scared?" I asked, surprised. "You get scared?"
"All living beings know fear," she answered, as she had to. "I can be frightened like anyone else."
"Oh." I didn't know what else to say there. She didn't seem scared, even though she had every right to be. But then, she was Wonder Woman. "Well, I meant -- are the ropes all right? Do they feel all right?"
"The ropes feel good," she answered.
I blinked. "They do?"
"You... like being tied up?"
"Yes." Just like that. Simple, and quiet.
I blinked again. "Oh," I said. "You... like it... sexually?" My heart was pounding even saying the word.
"Yes. I find being tied up arousing."
"Are...are you aroused now?
Oh. Of course she wasn't. Her body was on fire and she wanted to throw up -- we'd just covered that. "But the ropes feel good?"
"Well... good." I swallowed. "Do you... does that mean you're aroused when a supervillain captures you?"
"Not usually," she said, her voice slipping out of her body like an echo. I could tell her mind was if anything even less lucid than before. "Though it has happened."
"Do you... have they ever...." I swallowed. "Has a supervillain ever... taken advantage of you while you were tied up?"
I shivered. "Explain?"
"Cheetah bound me and then used me as a bargaining chip with the Teen Titans."
"Oh. Like that. No... I mean... has a villain ever taken advantage of you... suh-sexually." Yes, my voice broke. I was terrified. And turned on like you'd never believe.
I'm not sure how I felt to hear that. "Have you ever used bondage in a sexual relationship?" I asked.
"But you'd like to?"
Well, that was plain enough. "Why haven't you experimented with it, then?"
"I have no sexual experience," she answered. "So I have had no opportunity to build the kind of relationship where it could happen."
I was stunned. "You're a virgin?"
I stared. "Third base?" I asked.
"Have you heard the baseball metaphor?"
"Yes. I understand."
"What... how far in the baseball metaphor have you gotten?"
"If I understand it correctly... first base."
"Oh. French kissing?"
"Intense kissing. Some touching, but not of the primary or secondary sexual characteristics."
"The situation never seemed right."
"How... how is that possible?"
"Many of the men or women I would find sexually appealing are intimidated by my power, presence, stature or reputation," she said softly. "Others are already in committed relationships. In some cases, a friendship I have built would be potentially compromised if we were to... indulge ourselves."
"But if that weren't the case... you'd start something?"
"Why not?" I shivered. This was still erotic -- like reading someone's diary, only this time it was in her head.
"I have a certain reputation and position. There would be a risk of compromise if I were to indulge my passions."
"Oh." I blinked, and smiled a bit. "Is that why bondage appeals to you?"
"I do not understand the question."
"Does... are you attracted to bondage because... it means that you're being forced into sexual situations -- there is at least the illusion that you have no choice, so you might as well enjoy it?"
"In part," she said softly. "I also enjoy the sensation of being restrained."
"I... I see," I said. My head was almost swimming. "Um... do you... need anything? To help with the illness?"
"I am thirsty," she said softly. "I am feeling worse."
So I gave her water. And fed her crackers. And I held her hair the time she threw up. I wasn't sure what I would do if she had to use the bathroom -- gone with her, I supposed -- but it didn't come up. I didn't ask her more questions about sex, just then. She seemed in a bad way. I just lapsed into silence and watched her.
It was about twenty minutes into one of those silences when I heard her moan again.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Is it going badly?"
I swallowed. "Are you going to die?"
There was a long pause.
"No," she said. "I do not believe so."
I relaxed, just a touch. "How can I help?"
"Talk to me."
"Talk to you?" I was surprised.
"Because I am scared, and because I have always taken comfort in the presence of others," she answered.
"Does... this mean your head is clearing?"
"No. But I can sense the presence of another, and that gives me courage even if I do not understand my surroundings."
There was a long pause.
"Do I have to ask you questions to get you to respond?"
"Okay." I looked at her. "Who were the men?"
"The men you would... want to have a relationship with, if it were possible? And why isn't it feasible, other than your reputation?"
"Colonel Steven Trevor," she said. "But he seems older than I do, more paternal than romantic. And he is married. The one you would call Superman, though our values are somewhat different, and he is also married. The one you would call Batman, though we are too different to make it workable, and because he cannot open himself up enough with me. The one you would call Nightwing, though if I were to be in a relationship with him it would complicate my relationship with my sister. Hermes, of the Gods, though I have not worked up the nerve to ask and it would be... complicated at best."
"There are others, but they are not as prevalent in my fantasies."
"You have fantasies?"
I swallowed. I really wanted to ask her one of them, but I hadn't quite gotten there yet. "You... said... 'the one I could call Superman.' You know his real name?"
"Yes. Yes, of course you do." I shivered, and looked at her. "What do you prefer to be called?"
I nodded. I'd heard that, but I wanted to be sure. "Diana... are you still delirious enough to... to likely not remember what we're saying after you recover?"
I paused. "I... hm. Phrased that badly. Will you remember this conversation after you recover?"
"Oh. Okay." I looked at her. "Would you... do you find me attractive?"
"I do not know."
"Fair enough. Let me guess -- your physical state makes it hard to figure out your emotional state?"
"In part. I also cannot clearly make you out. Though the lasso compels truth, it has not made me lucid enough to properly judge how I would feel about you."
"That's fair." I sat down close to her. "Do you wear underwear underneath that costume?"
"I cannot lie while the lasso is around me."
"Does this... line of questioning disturb you?"
"Because you don't understand it?"
"I do not have a conscious understanding of this conversation. My mind can perceive your presence, and it is comforting to me."
"Good." I looked at her. Maybe part of me was trying to be good, but the temptation was just too great. I'm no iron willed hero. "Why don't you wear underwear?"
"The uniform is designed to be worn over a nude body. The materials cling to skin. Had I worn something beneath it, it might slip."
"So... you don't wear underwear... for modesty's sake?"
"Has the uniform ever slipped?"
"Has anyone ever taken it off you?"
"No supervillain has ever stripped you or exposed you?"
"A combination of things. Lack of proper opportunity. An understanding of what I would do to them if they did. Inopportune rescue before they would have a chance."
"What... would you do to... a villain... who stripped you?"
"I do not know. It would depend upon the situation."
"Of course." I looked at her. "How... could....."
She waited, her body still slick with sweat.
"Do you need anything else?" I half-whispered. "Food? Or water?"
"Not right now."
I nodded, though she wasn't looking at me. "How... could I... convince you to have a relat... to have sex with me?"
"Convince me it is the only way to execute my mission, presuming I would not be attracted anyhow."
It was so matter of fact. 'Convince me it is the only way to execute my mission.' "What is your mission?" I whispered.
"To teach Man's World peace and harmony, and a better way. To protect the innocent, and fight against evil. To stand with and defend my friends and allies, and teach by word, deed and intention."
"Right." I could hardly believe what I was doing, mind. I was actually trying to figure out how to coerce Wonder Woman into having sex with me. My mind whirled. Teaching Man's World? Peace and harmony or protecting the innocent? Fighting evil? There wasn't any way those could be turned to....
'Defend my friends and allies,' she said.
"Oh," I said softly. "Of course."
I stood up, looking at this beautiful icon before me. I knew that any risk I took could be too much of one. I had to know what I was facing down. "Do you have any weaknesses?" I asked her.
"None that I would acknowledge," she said, her voice still quiet and distant. "I can have innocent lives used against me, forcing me into a submissive stance."
"But you don't lose your powers when we take your belt off or anything?'
"No. Those are rumors."
"Yeah. Of course they are. Do you have any flaws or weaknesses?"
"If my bracelets are removed, my power and fury become uncontrollable. It is a curse upon the Amazons. It is said that the bracelets can also be made to force us to be docile, but I have never heard of it happening."
"Are there other... side effects like that? In your powers?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Where do your powers come from?"
"I am the Goddess of Truth."
I stared. "You're... a Goddess?"
"A Greek Goddess?"
"I serve the pantheon you would call Greek, and I have stood among them as equals."
My heart began to pound. I knew a few things about Greek Mythology. Like I said -- English major when I had been in college.
She continued to kneel, still in her own world.
"Diana?" I asked, barely above a whisper.
"Yes?" she answered, clearly able to hear me.
"Are there... are there any oaths that you can't break? Oaths that bind you completely?" I remembered something from the Illiad, and from other myths....
"If I swear an oath by the River Styx, I must obey it, completely, regardless of the consequences," she said softly.
"Or what? You'll be dishonored?"
"It is not a question of dishonor. It is an oath which may not be broken."