Diana's glossy lips twitched slightly, but she knew this wasn't the time to openly defy him. Her corrupted body was too weak, her mind too clouded by the forced, throbbing lust pumping from the golden tiara to even maintain basic balance. Darren's filthy words were like sharp blades piercing her Amazonian heart, but she refused to let him see the full extent of her pain.
She slowly raised her heavy head, her azure eyes burning through the haze of her own leaking arousal, and spoke in a barely audible, breathy whisper. "You may have temporarily subdued me, Darren... but that doesn't mean you've won."
Darren simply smiled, his smugness growing into a dark, predatory grin. "You don't even have the strength to stand on your own two feet, Princess. Let alone resist me when I finally decide to pull up your skirt and use that wet cunt of yours."
Diana fell silent, her cheeks flushing a deep, humiliated crimson. She knew he was right. Her thighs squeezed together instinctively beneath the table, smearing the thick, hot slick of her own involuntary arousal against the sheer nylon of her stockings.
Several blank-faced maids approached, carrying two exquisite appetizers on silver platters, placing one in front of the Duke and the other before the fallen Wonder Woman. Duke Darren smiled as he looked at the delicate food, then at Diana's massive, heaving breasts spilling over her rigid bodice. He elegantly cut a small piece with his silver fork and slowly savored it, putting on a theatrical display.
"From today onward, I will teach you the etiquette a proper breeding sow must learn, starting with table manners, Princess," Darren said, his tone dripping with a self-satisfied sense of absolute superiority.
Wonder Woman slowly turned her clouded gaze to the food. Although her demigod metabolism was screaming with hunger after the magical drain, she didn't dare start eating immediately. Her warrior's instinct warned her that any thoughtless action would displease Darren and potentially lead to a brutal, sexualized punishment. She quickly analyzed Darren's precise eating movements, swallowing her immense pride. She awkwardly gripped her silver fork with her silk-gloved hand, elegantly cutting a small piece and carefully slipping it past her lips.
Darren watched her every move like a hawk, his dark eyes searching for any minor flaw to criticize or punish. But Diana flawlessly mirrored the "etiquette" he had demonstrated, giving the sadistic aristocrat almost no grounds for complaint.
"Not bad. It seems you're learning your place quite quickly. But this is just the beginning," Darren sneered, taking a sip of dark red wine. "You still have a long, painful way to go to become a proper, obedient plaything."
Wonder Woman carefully cut another small piece of rich food and slowly put it into her mouth. But as she swallowed, a horrifying realization dawned on her. The magical, steel-boned corset had completely crushed her midsection, restricting the normal movement and expansion of her internal organs to an absolute zero. The heavy food hit her shrunken, compressed stomach, instantly causing a violent wave of nausea.
She gagged softly, her silk-covered hand flying to her mouth. She used all her remaining, iron-clad willpower to force the food down, violently suppressing the urge to vomit. However, her flawless face turned a sickly pale, and this subtle, agonizing discomfort did not escape Duke Darren's notice.
His face immediately turned cold, his brow furrowing in faux disappointment. "It seems you still have much to learn, slut," Darren said icily. "A true noblewoman would never display such unrefined, pathetic behavior at my table."
Hearing this, Diana knew she had to endure. She lowered her head, using all her strength to calm her frantic breathing and the sickening churn in her crushed gut. She picked up her fork and continued to eat the rich dishes with forced, agonizing elegance. Duke Darren watched her, his cold smile deepening into a sadistic leer. He was entirely aroused by the power of putting the invincible Wonder Woman in such a physically torturous, disadvantageous position.
As the grand meal continued, the maids skillfully served course after course. From rich salads and buttery foie gras to heavy seafood soups and various decadent meat and fish delicacies, it was a perfect, multi-course French feast. Each dish was meticulously prepared, its aroma and taste perfectly balanced.
Usually, such food would be a divine pleasure. But for Wonder Woman, heavily bound in fetishistic tightlacing, it was pure, unadulterated torture.
Her internal organs screamed in agony under the unyielding pressure of the steel corset. Her stomach literally had no room to expand. Despite her body's desperate, repeated cries to stop eating, the Duke's piercing gaze and his constant, threatening emphasis on "etiquette" prevented her from putting her fork down. Whenever she tried to slow her pace or refuse a heavy dish, Darren would sharply remind her that waste was unacceptable for a slave, and that his "Princess" must finish every last bite on her plate.
By the time Wonder Woman managed to swallow the last, sickening sip of thick cream soup, her body had completely reached its breaking point. She was ghost-pale, her forehead and deep cleavage covered in a slick sheen of cold sweat. She clutched her deformed, wasp-thin waist with trembling hands, feeling the excruciating, bloated pressure tearing at her abdomen from the inside out. She trembled violently, gasping for air as if every shallow breath was her last, her massive breasts heaving helplessly.
Duke Darren sat opposite her, casually sipping his wine, watching her immense suffering with absolute, rock-hard satisfaction. His eyes were filled with controlling malice, admiring her broken, gasping form as if she were a priceless, suffering work of art.
"Dinner is concluded," Darren announced smoothly.
He stood up, walking around the table to haul Wonder Woman out of her chair. She was far too weak and bloated to stand on her own. Darren wrapped a strong arm around her waist, practically carrying her as her crippling six-inch stilettos dragged uselessly against the carpet. He led her through several heavy mahogany doors and long, opulent corridors, his hand casually groping her heavy, silk-clad breasts as they walked, finally arriving back at the master bedroom where she had first awoken.
The silent maids stood to one side, their eyes cast downward, but at Darren's sharp nod, they immediately withdrew from the room. The heavy oak door clicked shut behind them, sealing the lock.
Darren stood in the center of the plush carpet and abruptly removed his supporting arm.
Losing his brace, Wonder Woman's trembling, stocking-clad legs buckled instantly. She collapsed heavily onto the floor with a pathetic, breathy moan, her bloated, corset-crushed body curling into a helpless, shivering ball at the Duke's feet.