The Helpless Trussed-Up Damsel Challenge

This story contains retrospectively non-consensual bondage and is a work of fiction. Reader discretion is advised.

1.

If you want to kidnap a superheroine, I advise you to exploit their sense of charity. It worked for me, anyway.

I wrote an email to Wonder Woman, the most beautiful and also the most gullible of all superheroines, asking her to take part in a new charity campaign. (I didn’t mention the name of the challenge at this point, since even Wonder Woman would have got suspicious.) Naturally, she accepted eagerly, and asked me to send more details. I was happy to do so.

By that point, I knew she would be too embarrassed to back out. And she followed my instructions to the letter.

Later that week, as requested, Wonder Woman started streaming to her million fans - one of whom is me. She looked utterly stunning as ever, from her glossy dark hair and bright eyes to her flawless hourglass figure, and she was dressed in her usual tight-fitting costume and tiara.

“Hey Wonder Fans, welcome to my stream! And today we’re going to be doing the latest charity challenge. It’s called…”

I held my breath.

“…the ‘Helpless Trussed-Up Damsel Challenge’. That’s a mouthful, for sure! It’s not one I’d heard about before this week, but I’m really excited to join in.”

Wonderful. She had taken the bait.

“The instructions say, first of all, that you need to wear a white shirt that’s three sizes too small for you with no bra underneath. I’m not really sure why… but this is for charity, so I popped out earlier and did some shopping. I’d better whip off my costume and put this on.”

Wonder Woman stepped away from the webcam for a moment, and there was the always-beguiling sound of rustling fabric. She came back and - wow! Her large firm breasts were struggling furiously to escape from a white shirt that looked like it had been designed for a doll. Her nipples were poking through the thin material in a way that suggested she was rather enjoying herself.

“These buttons are barely holding!” she laughed. “Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if my breasts burst free on stream, ha ha. Now, what’s next? A black micro skirt with fishnet stockings. This really is objectifying, isn’t it? But it’s all for charity, so…”

This time she stayed on camera, sticking her tongue out rather endearingly while she concentrated on getting the stockings and skirt over her shapely legs and butt. She did a little twirl.

“How do I look? Like a pretty damsel in distress? Ha ha, this is such fun! I never get to be the rescued princess. This makes a fun change.”

Wonder Woman didn’t seem to have noticed, but the viewer numbers were going absolutely insane. This might have been something to do with my activities that day: I had visited some special-interest corners of the internet to let my friends know that the strongest woman in the world was going to voluntarily bedamsel herself for the world to watch.

“What’s next? Ah: a pair of 6-inch stiletto heels. I don’t dress up like this very much, you know.”

Now. I would like to state for the record that I am not proud of this. A tight white shirt, micro skirt, fishnets and high heels? It’s terribly clichéd, of course. And sexist. That list of instructions could basically be summed up as “dress yourself up like a two-bit floozy”.

I don’t feel good about it.

But on the other hand, Wonder Woman looked, well, wonderful in her slutty outfit. There’s something very enjoyable about a powerful woman being reduced to the status of objectified damsel. And it’s especially enjoyable if she willingly volunteers for this role, and even helpfully dresses herself in a damsel outfit on camera.

“The next bit is going to be tricky,” Wonder Woman was explaining. “It says I need to have my wrists bound behind my back, which I don’t think I can do myself… I would ask my roommate to help when she comes back later, but it also says, and I quote, ‘The charity volunteer needs to be completely and utterly helpless and unable to escape.’ And I think we all know that my super strength will allow me to break free from any ropes or chains a kidnapper could use to bind me. Hmmm. Perhaps I can’t do this challenge after all.”

She looked thoughtful, and rather endearingly dim. I started typing in the comments box.

“Oh, what’s this - something in the comments? Someone called CitizenHotel has made an excellent suggestion. If my hands are bound by a man, my superpowers disappear, and that includes my super strength. What a good point, CitizenHotel, I had forgotten about that. But my roommate is a woman, so we still need a man to truss me up. Oh, that’s handy, CitizenHotel says he’s a man, and lives nearby. That’s funny, I thought my address was a secret… But never mind. Well volunteered, that man!”

2.

I put away the phone I had been watching the stream on, and knocked on the door. I had a feeling that it wouldn’t occur to Wonder Woman to question how quickly I’d arrived.

“Hello there! You must be CitizenHotel. Come on in.”

If she looked good on that crappy webcam, she looked a thousand times better in the flesh. And “flesh” was exactly the right word. She was spilling out of that shirt in a way that was marvellously invigorating. I walked into the luxurious apartment, taking in the deep carpet, large paintings and expensive furniture. Being a superheroine was clearly a lucrative profession.

I must have seemed lost, because Wonder Woman was now smiling at me reassuringly. “I’m sure there’s some rope around here somewhere that you could - oh, you’ve brought your own?”

“Of course!” I emptied my bag on the floor, and seven or eight coils of washed white cord tumbled out, along with several pairs of handcuffs, two rolls of duct tape and a bundle of silk scarves. “I brought a mixture of bindings, so there are plenty of options we can use. I wasn’t sure of the exact terms of the challenge.”

A complete lie, of course, since I had written those terms myself.

“Thank you so much! That’s very thoughtful. Do you want to come over to the camera?”

I waved at the webcam and glanced at the number in the corner of the screen. There were now 20 million people watching.

“Okay! So, I need you to tie my hands tightly behind my back. Can you manage that?”

She demonstrated the position by crossing her wrists behind her back, forcing her bosom into even greater prominence and putting the buttons of her ultra-tight shirt at severe risk of bursting. I swallowed nervously and nodded.

“I think I can handle that.”

As she obligingly kept her wrists in the correct position, I wrapped them with cord carefully and very, very tightly, making sure every loop was snug and cinching the whole thing with several crosswise loops. I tied a stout knot and stood back to check my handiwork.

“How does that feel, Wonder Woman?”

She wriggled and struggled, but while she succeeded in making a spectacular show of her delightfully contorted body, she made no progress with the ropes.

“I can’t get free,” she admitted. “Not even close. It’s strange - the moment you secured the knot, I could feel my strength leave me. I’m as helpless as a kitten.”

“Well, I’m happy to help. Do the instructions, er… do they specify any further restraints?”

“I printed them out. They’re on the desk.”

As I glanced over I noticed that the comments on the stream had changed in character. My fellow enthusiasts had evidently started to outnumber the genuine fans; most of the comments were now expressions of delight or arousal at seeing Wonder Woman in bondage.

“I’d better see if there are any questions in the chat.”

“No! No, don’t worry about that until we’ve finished fixing you up.”

“Oh! Well, okay, you’re the boss!”

3.

I read out the next instruction.

“The volunteer’s elbows should be bound securely together, then rope should be wrapped around her arms and chest to create an inescapable harness.”

I went to work, looping and tightening and cinching cord around Wonder Woman’s elbows until they touched and were fixed immovably together. She groaned slightly but didn’t make any complaint about the stringent bondage.

“How does that feel?”

“It’s… not especially comfortable. But it’s fine.”

“Great. Now I’ll just wrap some more rope around your chest…”

Binding her elbows behind her back had made Wonder Woman’s breasts absurdly prominent; she was shoving them right in my face, and her dazzling white shirt was close to bursting point. I pretended not to notice, but it was hugely arousing.

“Okay, that’s your chest done. You look… pretty great, actually.”

There were loops of stout rope above and below Wonder Woman’s Amazonian tits, all cinched tightly with crosswise loops around her sides, shoulders and neck. I added a cord around her waist, which made a handy anchor point to attach her wrist bonds. I tightened it all up as much as I possibly could, eliciting another groan, which I ignored.

“We’d better sort out your legs now, Wonder Woman.”

She sat on her office chair and helpfully read out the instructions while I began to bind her legs, starting at the ankles. Please don’t read the chat, I prayed. I had glanced at it again and noticed that it was now entirely made up of warnings not to trust me (from her real fans) and mockery of her gullibility (from the perverts like me). Either would give the game away - but she didn’t seem to have thought to look.

“I’m going to need you to bind my legs at ankle, calf, knee and thigh,” she explained helpfully, “with at least five loops and three cross-loops at each point. It says to bind me thoroughly and tightly so I can’t possibly wriggle free! Is that okay? I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble, but it’s all for a good cause.”

I couldn’t think of a better cause, and was sure that the millions of perverts watching Wonder Woman wriggle and struggle and thrust her tits out would strongly agree. She was now comprehensively bound and utterly helpless.

“Okay, well thank you very much!” she said to me, sounding genuinely grateful: I hadn’t expected much from her, intellect-wise, but I was still astonished at how gullible she was. She turned to the webcam and twisted herself around, both showing off the complex and thorough bondage and demonstrating that she was quite unable to free herself from it. Every inch of her body was secured with tight cords: her arms were inseparable behind her back, trussed at wrist and elbow, while her shapely legs were welded together with loop upon loop of cinched ropes. Try as she might - and her vigorous struggles were a pleasure to watch - she couldn’t find the slightest bit of slack.

“Can you all see me looking like a helpless little damsel in distress? Oh please, won’t somebody rescue me?!” She was delighted by her predicament and clearly having fun.

I stood behind her with a thick white bandana in my hands and thought with pleasure about what it was going to feel like to gag the Mighty Maiden - which I knew for a fact was the last item on the list. The gag is the highlight of a kidnapping, beating even the moment when the first knot tethering a damsel’s wrists behind her back slides smoothly tight and she suddenly realises she is helpless. To strip a superheroine of her powers and bind her tightly with rope is hugely gratifying, but it has the compensation, for the victim, that it makes sense practically; she is a foe who has been defeated, and the rope is necessary to hold her as a captive. But for a powerful woman to be forbidden even from speaking… It’s so needlessly cruel, so gratuitously humiliating, and takes her defeat to the next level: she is no longer a strong foe temporarily held prisoner, but a weak and helpless hostage who must be prevented from calling for rescue.

Gagging Wonder Woman, I suspected rather maliciously, would also take the wind completely out of her sails. She was having fun now, but once that gag went in there would be no more banter with the audience, no more pretence that she was in on the joke, or controlling the situation. She would be reduced to a pretty, compliant and pleasingly silent damsel in distress, seen and not heard, on display for all to enjoy.

4.

But it was not a good idea to get ahead of myself. I peered over her shoulder and read the top comments in the chat, which she had still not thought to check, and smiled as I realised that even if she did, it was now too late to make a difference.

JamesGagney99: This is fkn great! She’s trussed up like a turkey, what a dummy 🤣
TightRopeWanker: I can’t believe she fell for this
Rope-A-Dope: this dumb bitch’s tits are bursting out of her shirt lol 🍒💦
WonderFan2002: Wonder Woman WHY ARE YOU LETTING HIM TRUSS YOU UP
JamesGagney99: because she’s a woman and women should be bound. And you’re next
TheRightHonourableLizTrusserMP: GAG HER
Themyscira4eva: Pls don’t let him gag you, this is all a trick. Shall I call the police?
AmazingAmazon: You can break free Wonder Woman!
TightRopeWanker: Can’t you see, this dum-dum is helpless, she’s not breaking out of anything 😂😂😂
MonsieurLigotage: the rope, I love how tight she is tied, the mademoiselle cannot move the muscle

Wonder Woman suddenly looked back at me and smiled.

“I think it’s time to gag me, isn’t it? The instructions say it’s very important that I’m not able to make a peep!”

“Okay. But before I silence you, don’t you want to nominate one of your friends to take the challenge next?”

“Good point! Right.”

She pondered for a moment and then looked into the webcam.

“I nominate Power Girl to take the Helpless Trussed-Up Damsel Challenge! Okay, gag me.”

I tied a fat knot in the middle of the white cloth and pulled it hard between her teeth, enjoying Wonder Woman’s muffled mumbling moans. I tied a tight double knot at the nape of her neck.

“We’d better test the gag,” I said. “Try saying ‘Help me!’”

“Hmmmppphh mppphhhh!”

It was very nearly inaudible: just the tiniest little mewl.

“Now say, ‘My name is Wonder Woman and I’m a helpless trussed-up damsel.’”

“Mmnm nnmmphh wwmmnn hmmmnn ddmmpphh.”

“Sorry babe, didn’t catch that. But I’m sure it wasn’t important.”

The merest hint of concern appeared in her eyes as I made this slightly cruel comment, but I intended to make sure she understood how much trouble she was in.

“To be clear, you are absolutely and utterly helpless, aren’t you? You can’t get free, you can’t run away or fight back, you can’t even call for someone to rescue you. You’re a powerless prisoner.”

Wonder Woman nodded, worry starting to cloud her beautiful face. She mmpphhed a question, which I ignored.

“I’ve decided to change the terms of the challenge. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mmmpphhh!”

“I didn’t think you would. Now, I’ve decided that it’s important that everyone gets to see your tits.”

I reached down and began to unbutton her tight white blouse, her firm plump breasts quickly spilling out for all to enjoy. She squeaked with outrage, but couldn’t do anything to stop me. Her nipples stood to attention, but I wasn’t sure if she was cold, or if she was enjoying the humiliation. Maybe both.

“That’s better. They’re your best feature, so why not let everyone enjoy them?”

“Mmppph!?”

“Have you checked the comments, by the way?”

More confusion in her eyes, and she suddenly turned to look. As she scanned down the chat box, I was delighted to see dismay and regret on her pretty face, followed by terror.

“‘You stupid dumb moron,’” I read out from the top comment, “‘How could you let yourself be captured, bound, gagged and humiliated by a guy with no superpowers whatsoever? Is your power super-gullibility?’ Well, that’s not very kind, is it? Although accurate, to be fair.”

“Mmmppphhh?!!”

“I think you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Goodness, your nipples are standing to attention!”

I reached down and tweaked her right nipple between my thumb and forefinger, making her squeak and blush. I looked up at the webcam and smiled, enjoying the thought that millions of like-minded perverts were watching me degrade and humiliate the strongest woman on earth.

“I’ve got another idea that I think you’ll enjoy. Do you know what a crotch rope is?”

Wonder Woman shook her head confusedly.

“Crrppph rmpphh?”

“Oh, well you’re in for a treat! And so is everyone watching the stream.”

5.

I manhandled the helpless heroine out of her seat so she was standing in front of the camera. Unused to the heels and hobbled by the ankle bindings, she wobbled unsteadily, big eyes looking at me with alarm, firmly gagged mouth mewling inadequately for help or mercy. Rather than hurrying to the next stage of binding I stood back for a moment and enjoyed her helplessness.

“Worried you’re going to fall over? That would be embarrassing, wouldn’t it? But not as embarrassing as the next stage.”

I hiked up her tight skirt so it was little more than a belt, and softly ran my fingertips over her crotch. She squeaked in alarm, although I could barely make it out.

“This next rope isn’t going to make Wonder Woman any more helpless, so I don’t know why she’s so nervous. In fact, it will give her a great deal of pleasure. It will give us all a great deal of pleasure.”

I looked again at the chat box for the stream. (Number of concurrent viewers: 30 million.)

TightRopeWanker: OMG IT’S CROTCH ROPE TIME 😍
JamesGagney99: Enjoy this you silly wench
TightRopeWanker: how did she not see this coming? Superheroines are such fun. 😂😂😂
MonsieurLigotage: She is, how do you say, “not a bright lightbulb”, this one 💡
WonderFan2002: please Wonder Woman you’re strong enough to escape. I BELIEVE IN YOU
JamesGagney99: if you don’t shut up I’ll come round your house and tie you up and gag you myself
WonderFan2002: Please don’t do that
Fan_Of_Human_Bondage: TIGHTER, everything needs to be TIGHTER 💦
Fan_Of_Human_Bondage: tie the ropes so TIGHT she can hardly breathe ha ha 💦💦
Fan_Of_Human_Bondage: Seriously the TIGHTER the BETTER as far as I’m concerned 💦💦💦
MonsieurLigotage: I do not think this lady could cope if it was any tighter my friend🤣
Themyscira4eva: I have called the police but they need to know your address, WHERE ARE YOU

I attached a cord to the loop around Wonder Woman’s waist, then fed the end down between her legs - not an easy task, given how thoroughly I had earlier bound them together. I had to poke and prod with my fingers, enjoying the squeaks and moans as I invaded her most intimate area, until I managed to get it through. Then it was an easy matter to yank the cord up at the back and tie it tightly to the waist loop.

“That rope is now nestled deep inside you, prisoner,” I told her, “and I tied a neat little knot to create some pleasant friction whenever you struggle against your bonds. Not that I want you to stop struggling, since you do it so prettily.”

Wonder Woman had been continuing her ineffective wriggling and straining, but she quickly realised the new problem. She blushed, and became very still.

“A shame to miss out on the struggling, but there is also something very beautiful about a totally subdued and docile captive. Especially one who only a few minutes ago thought she was the strongest woman in the world. Now you’re just a damsel in distress, and one with very little prospect of rescue. You belong to me now, wench.

“But you know what? As pretty a prize as you are, I’m feeling greedy tonight. This is a lovely apartment you’ve got… and I bet you’ve got some valuables hidden around here somewhere. You’ve got a safe, haven’t you?”

Wonder Woman shook her head.

“Mmmm nmmmphh!”

“You don’t want to tell me? Well, how about I make you hop around the apartment until you point to it with your silly little nose?”

“Nnnmppphhhh!”

“Get hopping.”

I smacked her firmly on the arse and she squeaked and mmpphed. This time it was quite loud, although still nicely muffled.

“Go on. I’ll keep spanking until you do.”

Reluctantly the Mighty Maiden started hopping around the room. It was immensely humiliating for her, hands bound tightly behind her back, exposed breasts bouncing all over the place, sweat starting to glisten on her face and chest. And I knew the crotch rope would be working wonders on every jolting jump.

“That’s quite an effort, isn’t it? You can stop any time you like, provided you’re ready to show me the safe.”

“Mmmnnmmppphhhh!”

“Still defiant? Hmmm. Perhaps we can find something more persuasive.”

6.

I looked around Wonder Woman’s living room. The usual stuff: soft furnishings, wall art, trophies from defeated supervillains… Then I noticed something on a bookshelf.

“Is that… a cane? Wonder Woman, whatever do you get up to in your spare time?!”

She blushed deeply, telling me and the stream viewers everything we needed to know about the heroine’s relationship with her “roommate”.

“You are a dark horse. Talking of which, giddy-up!”

There was a firm crack as the cane struck Wonder Woman’s defenceless buttocks, and she set off like a rocket - a rocket that was limited to humiliating little bunny hops, anyway. Bounce bounce bounce, she went, tits out, head in the air, out the door and down the corridor to her bedroom. I followed, keeping up easily and giving an additional crack on her arse from time to time - at any sign that my captive was slowing down, or just when I felt like it.

On the wall of Wonder Woman’s bedroom there was a poster of Bettie Page: nothing especially naughty, just a tame pin-up, but an intriguing clue to her inner life, I thought.

She looked at me fiercely, thought for a moment, then gestured at the poster with her cute little nose.

“Behind the poster, is it? How kind of you to let me know.”

I carefully took down the poster, and sure enough, there was a safe hidden behind.

“I need you to tell me the combination. Will you do so willingly, or do we need to use the cane again?”

She considered this, and then nodded. There was a look of submission in her eyes. But I was suspicious.

“I’ll need to take your gag out for a moment,” I said sternly, “but I tell you now, if you call for help or try to shout out your address, I will make you regret it.”

“Mmmmpphh wmmmnnpphh.”

That seemed to be a promise of obedience, but I resolved to watch carefully for any signs of rebellion.

“Very well. I’m taking the gag out now, but I warn you: do not provoke me.”

The knot was undone; the sodden cloth emerged. She licked her lips and swallowed.

“Could I have a glass of water, please?”

“In a moment. Tell me the combination.”

“It’s easy to remember. Just type in…”

Whoosh, she was off. Desperately hopping back down the corridor, trying to get close enough to the computer to be heard.

“Maiden Avenue!” she was shouting. “I live at number… eek!”

I tackled Wonder Woman to the floor and wrestled her under me, frantically clapping my hand over her mouth. I was annoyed with her for trying to escape and with myself for not stopping it sooner, but I was still enjoying the feel of her wriggling bound body.

“Right! We shall have to punish you for that. But first, the gag goes back in. No more talking for you.”

I jammed the cloth back in her mouth and tied it as tightly as I could, taking out my irritation on the poor captive by giving it an extra malicious yank. She squeaked and moaned softly into the damp muffling cloth.

“Back on your feet. And because of that little stunt, you’ll have to tell me the combination without speaking. Mmphh once for yes and twice for no. Is the first digit… one?”

“Mmphh mmphh.”

“Two?”

“Mmphh mmphh.”

“Three?”

“…Mmphh.”

“Excellent. And the second digit…”

7.

A short while later we appeared back on camera. I checked the viewer numbers right away, concerned that most would have drifted away while Wonder Woman and I had been disputing in her bedroom, but nearly everyone had stuck around.

“Hello again, everyone! I’m glad you stayed with us, because Wonder Woman was particularly keen to say goodbye.”

I looked my captive in the eye and smiled.

“It’s rather a final goodbye, I’m afraid.”

She squeaked with alarm, wide-eyed, appealingly defenceless.

“Yes, I think we’re done here. As you can see…“

I held up my bag, which previously held the binding materials, but was now bulging with other items.

“…I’ve cleared out Wonder Woman’s safe, which contained a nice pile of cash and lots of documents that will be useful for blackmail. And of course, I’ve acquired another nice object which I expect to give me pleasure over the coming months.”

I gave her a hard smack on the arse, and laughed at her look of humiliated outrage. She was a delightful sight: furious but utterly helpless, arms bound tightly behind her back, legs firmly trussed together, thoroughly silenced by a cruel gag, tits exposed, tottering on her heels. I could see that she was straining her mighty muscles to escape, but her strength was gone, since she had been captured and bound by a man. It was obviously unbearable for her to be defeated and humiliated in front of her legion of adoring fans, and perhaps worse to be exposed in front of millions of internet perverts who would jump at the chance to use her degradation for their own sordid purposes: I was sure that copies of the video were being made and shared across the country. She was blushing hard and trying not to cry.

I took one last look at the chat box and read out some choice excerpts for Wonder Woman’s enjoyment.

TightRopeWanker: Bye bye dummy, hope you enjoy being a helpless slave 🤣
JamesGagney99: You must be the stoopidest superheroine in the world 😂😂
WonderFan2002: PLEASE LET HER GO
Rope-A-Dope: Nice tits, nice tight bondage, loving this 👍👍👍
TightRopeWanker: Best stream ever, much better than the usual crap Blunder Woman
MonsieurLigotage: Can you make her turn around please, I’d like another look at her arse 🍑 and bound hands

I obligingly rotated Wonder Woman on her high heels and gave the camera a good view of her curvy arse, which I gave a firm smack for good measure.

“Well, I think that wraps up this little performance. Wonder Woman and I will take a walk down to my van, which is parked just outside. Or rather, I’ll be walking, she’ll be hopping.”

I started ushering the helpless heroine towards the door, her tits bouncing up and down as she hopped along, little squeaks and moans the soundtrack to our progress. But then I remembered, and turned round once more.

“And if anyone knows Power Girl, let her know that she’s next.”

FIN