The First Weekend, Sunday

After our shower, we spent rather a long amount of time toweling each other off. I spent a lot of time on that mane of blue-black hair. She spent a lot of time... well. Let's just say she spent a lot of time.

As part of toweling off, I unwrapped the lariat from her body. She smiled as I did so -- not out of relief, but out of afterglow. As I finished and looped it back up, the room turned dark as its glow faded... letting us see the early dawn light through the bathroom window.

I opened the bathroom door, and let her step out into the living room area, gloriously nude and stretching. "We seem to have missed out on actually sleeping," she said.

"I don't seem to mind," I answered.

"Nor I." She smiled a crooked smile, looking back over her shoulder at me. "If anything, I think we're both fresher than when we got back from the mall."

"I'm certainly in a better mood," I said, chuckling.

"Me too," she answered, walking over to the kitchenette. "But now, we get to see... does Tom Dorsey stock his kitchen like an adult... or a bachelor? Or are we going out to breakfast, again?"

"We can if you'd like," I said. "But given my druthers, I'd rather stay in."

"Then we are in agreement. Oh, my word," she said, opening the fridge. "Eggs. Vegetables. Bacon. All looking... potentially fresh at that. Very well then. Go sit on your couch. I'll make us something."

"You cook?" I asked, a bit teasingly.

"I will have you know I was Taco Whiz employee of the month not once, but twice," Diana said, laughing. "Despite those credentials? Yes. I cook."

"I have trouble seeing you work in the fast food industry," I said, heading over to the couch and sitting down.

"You shouldn't," she said. "It was honest work, and a side of life I'd had no chance to experience before then." She chuckled again, a bit wistfully, this time. "People think of me and think... the hero. Or the aristocrat -- Princess Diana. Or... I don't even know. But there is no more inherent nobility in being a princess than in being a plowman. I've done quite a lot of manual and service labor over the years. I should do more." There was the sound of sizzling food as she spoke. "I have seen... other worlds. Like this one, but different. Worlds where the 'Woman of Wonders' was separated from mankind. Regal, instead of approachable. At its absolute worst, I have seen her lose all empathy and become a murderer. I pray to Athene and Hera that I never forget my connection to everyone... and that I am neither inherently higher nor lower than any other man or woman."

"Tall order," I said, then smiled as she approached with two plates, each bedecked with silverware and really good looking omelettes.

"The best things always are," she said, sliding onto the other side of the couch, tucking her feet up underneath herself, and beginning to eat. She glanced down at the floor. "It's... strange to consider. Not thirty-six hours ago I was terrified, bound by my lariat, lying open and exposed right there on the floor, and you were thrusting your invading member into my virginal temple. And not two hours ago you were fucking the shit out of my pussy for the umpteenth time in five hours, making me beg for more, and I had no fear at all." She chuckled. "You told me. Sometimes it would be better. Sometimes it would be worse. That's true. But sometimes it's... just different. And the experience is as wide and varied as any I can remember. No one expects the same dance every time you see a dancer. Why should we expect the same fuck from a fucker?"

"That is... incredibly deep for six in the morning," I said, eating another couple bites of egg, bacon, cheese, and green pepper. "Mm. The pictures."

"Oh suffering Sappho that was hot."

I grinned. "Glad to be of... service. Was that really worth a 'suffering Sappho,' though?"

"I won't critique your epithets if you won't critique mine."

"Fair enough. But... it does occur to me that memory card--"

"Has pictures of a bound, helpless, orgasming Wonder Woman lit by her own golden lasso of truth while sperm dries on her breasts and face and in her hair?" Diana raised both her eyebrows, smiling slightly. "Yes it does. I want copies."

"...you've got them."

"You were smart, not using your phone. I'd say keep them out of the internet's hands. I can bring you some secure things. I know a guy. Several guys, actually. In the meantime, hide the memory card and put another one in the camera. And get more for next time. If necessary, I'll sign a release so if, say, Batman shows up and wants to pummel you over them--"

"Heh. Yeah. I'm... just sort of resigning myself to being pummeled by Batman at some point. You do know that, right?"

"I know you are." She sighed. "I won't pretend I can ensure that won't happen. He... is a good man. And he loves me dearly. Me and all of those few people he's dared let into his heart as friend. And... he is extremely good at pummeling."

"I gathered." I snorted. "It's fine. I'll deserve it."

"Perhaps you will," Diana said. "Perhaps you do. I... I don't know any more. I'd rather you not be pummeled by anyone." She half-smiled, eating more of her breakfast. "I suppose some would call that Stockholm Syndrome."

"But not you?"

"No." She took another bite, chewing and swallowing. "Among the cultures that birthed my culture, wars happened. Captives were taken. Slaves were made slaves. Sometimes noble ones. Consider the Illiad. Achilles leaves the field of war and endangers his fellow when his captive girl Briseis was taken from him by Agamemnon after Agamemnon was to give up a captive of his own. Achilles slew Briseis's parents and brothers -- she had been a princess. A queen. But when she was taken from Achilles she wept and demanded to be returned, and when Achilles finally succumbed to in the waning days of the war she attended to his burial with the fortitude and concern of any wife. It was no dishonor to be a -girl and servant, captured in honorable warfare."

"Did I capture you in honorable warfare?" I asked, not positive I wanted to hear the answer.

"No. You risked your life to save mine. In so doing, you also saved the lives of the Justice League and maybe thousands more. You took me into your home at great personal danger -- if any of the Injustice Alliance had followed you, you would almost certainly be dead, now. And you kept me in your home until I recovered." She finished her food, looking down at the plate. "You had a price for your hospitality and your service, Thomas Dorsey. You should not have threatened my friends. That was dishonorable, and it will stay between us for a long time to come. But me being your servant? I accept that this is the price I had to pay. And if Agamemnon showed up to carry me away, I would beg to stay with you." She paused. "That's not technically true. I would beat Agamemnon until his own dogs wouldn't recognize him, tell him to rethink his approach, and laugh as he ran away. But I have options Briseis didn't."

"Damn right you do." I looked at her. "I... know you don't like what we're doing, and why. And I know you do like what we've done. So... I should ask. Do you... are you glad that was the price?"

She looked at her food, then looked at me. "I don't know, Thomas," she said, finally. "I... do not today feel the way I expected to feel. I'll admit that. I am... far... closer to you than I expected to be. I find myself anticipating next month, and this month hasn't even ended. But am I glad? I don't know." She smiled. "But that perhaps isn't the point. The point is... I am... content. And... I would not trade the last thirty-six hours for anything. I would not go back to being that scared virgin on the floor. I would not go back to being the ever-so-wise innocent from before I met you." She shrugged. "So take that for what it's worth, Tom." She ran her finger over her left bracelet. "I notice you didn't re-wrap my bracelets in silk."

"Yeah," I said. "They don't need to be recontextualized any more. Honestly... they're... part of you in a way all the rest of your regalia isn't."

"Yes." She looked at them again. "You're going to use them today, aren't you?" She looked back at me. "To strip me of my Amazon nature and Divine power, and make me your in all ways."

I held her gaze. "Yes, I am."

She nodded. "So I assumed. Good. Experience under those conditions will be valuable for many reasons. And... also... I admit you saying 'yes' caused my moistening juices to start flowing rather embarrassingly. Add that to my growing list of confirmed fetishes, I suppose. And... my apologies on behalf of your couch."

"My couch will survive." I half-smiled. "And of course, next time--"

"Next time..." Diana said, smiling very slightly. "You're going to capture Wonder Woman. Which is to say me. You are going to bind my bracelets. Steal my powers. And fuck my helpless heroic pussy." Her smile turned crooked. "I... am already planning where to get the 'Wonder Woman' uniform that you can tear off my body, and the facsimile golden lasso you can use to me to tell you the horrible truths I would never be willing to admit. I assume you'll see to the chains. Chains are more of a 'you' thing, in this situation." She looked down, her cheeks turning pink. "I want pictures of that, too."

"So do I."

Diana looked out the window, though the drawn curtains -- though they let light in. "Six thirty, more or less. In thirteen and a half hours, it will be eight p.m., and our first weekend will be over. I will owe you nothing more. You will have no will you can exert over me. Not until next month, anyhow. It doesn't... it doesn't seem long enough, somehow."

"I know." I didn't suggest extending the hours. There was the Oath, after all.

"Here," she held her hand out for my now empty plate. "Give that to me. I'll see to these. Afterward... how do you want me dressed?"

I looked at her. "In your Amazon shift," I said. "The red one. No slippers. Bare feet only."

She looked at me. "Appropriate," she half-whispered.

I nodded. And I watched her go. Feline in grace, secure in her power. Diana of Themyscira.

In ten minutes, I was going to take all that away from her. And she was going to help me.