Humiliation

Upon their arrival at Circe's sanctuary, she was led to a cell, bound with chains. This wasn't to neutralize her; her collar was enough. It was to humiliate her. Guards watched her, mocking her, some caressing her, pulling at her breasts.

• Soon you'll be delivered to whoever wants you. You'll be our doll of vice, a fuck toy.

She wasn't afraid, but what should have motivated her to fight now transformed into a surge of excitement, fantasies of gangbangs, of humiliation. This collar was changing her warrior mentality into that of a lustful sex ****.

Diana felt anonymous hands multiplying on her body, their fingers digging with calculated brutality into the hollows of her hips, her thighs forcibly spread apart. The gag muffled her gasps, but not the shivers that ran through her skin with each pinch of her hardened nipples. The collar vibrated, injecting a guilty heat into her veins that transformed each humiliation into a wave of guilty pleasure.

Someone ripped off the blindfold, and the torchlight danced before her dazzled eyes.

Diana's eyes blinked in the flickering torchlight, revealing a circle of mocking figures pressing around her. Muffled laughter reached her as rough fingers spread her thighs wider, exposing her sex glistening with treacherous arousal. The collar tightened around her throat, as if to punish her for the guilty shiver that rose up her stomach as nails raked the insides of her thighs.

Circe, in a sexy leather outfit with a black leather riding crop, stood behind her, with Hercules watching Wonder Woman with amusement.

• I see you're enjoying the changes to my little collar, so prepare yourself for worse. You're going to become a real sex female dog, living only to satisfy your own urges and those of others. She added to the servants present, "Take her to the debauchery room; she's going to receive the special treatment.

Diana felt rough hands lift her from the table where she lay exposed, her muscles tensed against her will under the brutal caresses. The leather of her restraints groaned as she was dragged toward a low door, her body brushing against the damp walls of the corridor. The humid heat of the sanctuary clung to her skin, mingled with the acrid scent of desire and sweat.

Diana felt rough hands lift her from where she lay exposed, her muscles tensed against her will under the brutal caresses. The leather of her restraints groaned as she was dragged toward a low door, her body brushing against the damp walls of the corridor. The humid heat of the sanctuary clung to her skin, mingled with the acrid scent of desire and sweat.

She felt hands exploring her naked body, and the more they did, the more she felt desire unfold, her thirst to belong to whoever would take her. The air of the new room changed; she smelled tiles, then carpets, cushions, intoxicating scents.

• Wash her, she smells like a sow in heat.

Icy hands threw buckets of perfumed water at her, cascading down her trembling curves, tracing pearly paths across her skin, reddened by the caresses. The servants' fingers worked relentlessly, rubbing her body as one would polish a precious object, lingering between her parted thighs where the water mingled with the guilty moisture of her arousal.

She moaned under the harsh, wiry brushes that spared no part of her body, while violent jets targeted even her most sensitive areas. Resilient as she was, any other human would have been torn apart by the **** of the water.

The stiff brushes plowed mercilessly into her skin, eliciting stifled moans from Diana as the icy water lashed her taut breasts and trembling thighs, even seeping between her parted lips with cruel precision. Her back arched involuntarily when a violent jet struck her swollen clitoris, sending a jolt of guilty pleasure down her belly.

Then women arrived with horsehair gloves. Circe came and began to run hers over Diana's genitals and clitoris, gazing at her with a wild, cruel look.

The horsehair-gloved fingers scraped Diana's sensitive flesh with sadistic precision, each movement calculated to ignite conflicting fires of pain and pleasure. Circe's glove lingered on her swollen clitoris, circling viciously until a muffled cry escaped her gag.

Diana arched her back violently, her nails digging into her own palms as the horsehair rubbed against her raw flesh. Each movement of the glove drew a fresh moan from her throat, the vibrations of the collar amplifying the sensation until it was almost unbearable. She felt a hand roughly seize her hair, pulling her head back as Circe leaned down to whisper in her ear:

• You're trembling like a female dog in heat... do you like it ?

Panting, Wonder Woman heard herself say with utmost sincerity,

• Yes, yes, make me scream, Mistress.

Circe burst into a raucous laugh, her horsehair-gloved fingers digging more cruelly between Diana's trembling thighs.

"You deserve every second of this, Princess," she murmured, tracing a burning circle around the Amazon's swollen clitoris, each stroke eliciting a stifled gasp.

The maids moved closer, their hands gripping Diana's heavy breasts, pinching them until the skin reddened beneath their nails. Circe's gloved fingers dug deeper, the rough bristles etching fire into Diana's swollen flesh.

A moan escaped her as the bristles scraped her clitoris in slow, deliberate circles—each caress sending sparks of pleasure-pain along her spine. The collar around her neck throbbed, amplifying every sensation until her thighs trembled violently, her body betraying her with a wet heat.

A second pair of hands—Hercules's—gripped her hips, pulling her back onto her knees. The thick crest of his erection pressed against the small of her back, a provocation, while Circe's grip on her hair **** her to arch her back.

• Admit you want my cock to fuck you, you little bitch?

Hercules' fingers dug into Diana's hips, holding her mercilessly against him as he sneered at the nape of her neck, his cock rubbing against her buttocks.

"Say it, you fucking Amazon," he growled, his voice hoarse with disdain. "Say you want me to tear you apart."

Hercules's hot breath on her skin made Diana shudder, even beneath the shame that flooded her.

• Yes, yes, I want to be your female dog, your ****, have mercy.

Hercules presented himself, but this time to her anus. Diana's eyes widened in terror; she was a virgin there, never before had she allowed her lovers to play with her anus. Hercules roughly spread Diana's buttocks, his thumb digging into the tender flesh with sadistic pressure. He thrust in, deflowering her anally, and she cried out.

A heart-rending sound, which transformed into a hoarse moan as pain mingled with a burning wave of submission. Diana's muscles tensed violently around Hercules's brutal intrusion, her body instinctively struggling against the violation, but the magical collar tightened its grip, transforming her resistance into a trembling of **** pleasure.

She felt him so deep inside her, breathless, gasping. Hercules groaned, his powerful hips slamming against her reddened buttocks, each thrust more violent than the last. Pain mingled with a wet shame, her body treacherously responsive despite the humiliation.

Circe, still kneeling between Diana's trembling thighs, sneered as tears beaded on her eyelashes, quickening her pace with the horsehair glove, pushing it deeper into her vagina, her hand clenching into a point.

The sorceress brutally thrust her gloved fingers deeper, the rough horsehair scraping against Diana's sensitive walls, which contracted in a wet pulsation. "Look how your body lies, princess," she murmured as beads of sweat trickled between the Amazon's breasts, each ragged breath betraying her guilty pleasure.

Hercules slowed for a moment, his thumb digging sadistically into the small hollow at the base of her spine, before resuming his thrusts with calculated ****.

Diana had lost her fighting spirit, transforming into a sexual beast, always wanting more, her senses deceived by her collar that turned pain into pleasure.

Hercules dug his fingers into Diana's raw hips, impaling her deeper with an animalistic growl. The burning friction of his penis violently forcing open her torn anus tore a strangled sob from the Amazon—a sound that broke into a wet gasp when Circe, with a sadistic flick of her wrist, twisted the horsehair glove against her G-spot.

Diana begged for mercy, and yet, even more so, she no longer knew; she was a sex toy in their merciless hands.

Hercules dug his hand into Diana's hair, yanking her head back roughly, exposing the quivering curve of her throat. "You're crying like a female dog in heat," he growled, his fingers marking her skin as he quickened the pace of his thrusts, each impact slapping their flesh with wet obscenity.

Diana felt her own cries choked—her mouth open, drooling, her pupils dilated by the cocktail of pain and **** pleasure.

She lost track of time; she had an orgasm, but he wouldn't let go. She was about to lose consciousness when Hercules came inside her, filling her with his seed.

Hercules withdrew in a slow, cruel motion, the warm semen dripping between Diana's trembling thighs. She moaned softly, her body drained, her anus throbbing around the void left by the brutality of his grip.

Circe seized her chin, forcing her glassy gaze to rest upon her. "You didn't even have the decency to stifle your cries, you little beast," she sneered, tracing a contemptuous finger along Diana's tear-stained cheek.