Naming names part 3

“Next up: Manhunter. Kate Spencer, big shot prosecutor, right? I’m sure the Bar would love to hear about her side hustle as a vigilante. I wonder how many of her cases would have to be re-tried. Thoughts?”

Wonder Woman’s tone is dismissive, “I suppose you want to grope my breasts?”

“Don’t mind if I do!” you say as you rise, walk over to the bound heroine, and grab her red-and-gold-covered breasts with both hands.

“Am I supposed to find that funny?” she asks.

“Naw,” you say as you massage her breasts through her costume. “I mean I think it’s hilarious. But mostly it’s to remind you that I can take anything I want from you, right now, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.” She starts to say something but stops herself, “So don’t act like you’re the one doing me favors.”

The two of you exchange stares for a minute. “I agreed to bargain with you to protect the names of my friends and colleagues. If you wanted me to be polite about it, you should’ve stipulated that.”

“Fair enough as long as you’re okay with the consequences,” and with that you pull down her bustier revealing the most perfect breasts you have ever seen: nearly porn star sized, but firm as a young cheerleader’s. Diana fumes silently while you spend a moment taking in the view.

“So, getting back to our Ms. Spencer,” you lay your notebook on the desk where you can reach it while standing. “I want nudie pics. Of you, not of her”

“How many?” her voice is cold but civil.

“One every day for a year.” With your free hand you reach out and cup an exposed Amazonian tit.

She shakes her head, completely ignoring your touch, “I can’t possibly commit to sending a picture every single day.”

“Oh sure, obviously we can work around your busy schedule,” while you kneed her breast. “If you’re tied up saving the world for a few days, you can just send me multiple pics when you get back to make up the difference. As long as I get 365 nude photos – of you – then I’ll be a happy man.”

“I appreciate your accommodation,” she manages to pack an ocean’s worth of sarcasm into those four words.

“It is, and I do mean this sincerely, my pleasure.” You jot that down with one hand while your other hand runs a finger lightly around her nipple. “Ice. White haired girl in a blue-white costume, right? I thought she was dead?"

“She was. She no longer is.”

“Really do need a scorecard to keep track with you people.” You switch to the other nipple. “Alright. For Ice’s sake, we kiss. And not some chaste peck on the cheek. We’re talking a full on make-out session, with tongue, lasting 20-30 minutes. Fireplace, candles, wine and cheese. Second base at the very least.”

By this point both her nipples are peaked and rosy but she continues to ignore that. “All right,” she says evenly.

“Cool.” You set down your pen so you can reach over and pinch both her nipples. Diana’s eyes flinch ever so slightly but she otherwise keeps her poker face in place. You look at your list, still playing with the boobies. “Let’s see…Dove? Another white-haired babe in a blue & white suit. Runs around with Captain Rage Bait?”

“He prefers to be called Hawk, but yes.”

“Hmmm, so I’m guessing exposing Dawn Granger would also threaten Hawk’s identity?” Diana nods grimly as you lightly stroke her nipples some more.

“Since this one’s actually a twofer, let’s talk about your apartment. Diana’s apartment, whatever.”

“What about it?” she says cautiously, still keeping her expression blank, but a flush is starting to creep into her cheeks.

“Cameras. I wire the whole place with video cameras that I can access remotely and play voyeur when your home. Bedroom, shower, everything.” She nods again. It’s almost like she’s having to keep her mouth closed to avoid making any embarrassing noises. “And no avoiding the place on my account.”

You flick her left nipple, then her right. It takes a second before she can respond through clenched teeth, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Then it’s a deal. OK, Mari McCabe. I used to have her calendar! World-famous supermodel who secretly fights crime as Vixen. Lemme think." You pretend to be deep in thought when actually you're just savoring the feeling of her breasts in you hands. "How do you feel about streaking through town square at midday, wearing nothing but your tiara & bracelets?"

"While personally I am not ashamed of my body, that would be more than a personal humiliation, it would severely compromise my mission here in your Patriarch's World. I will not do it."

You slap her tits, “Have it your way. Plan B: you get yourself off while I watch.”

“Via your cameras?” she scoffs.

You shake your head, “Up close and personal. In the same room, but stripper rules.” She gives you a confused look, “No touching,” you clarify.

The Amazon fumes silently for a long moment while you jiggle her breasts some more, before nodding in resigned agreement, “I will accede to this.”

“One humiliation comma personal. And look! We’re halfway through the list. Not so painful, right?”

“I suppose it could be worse,” she says in the tone of a woman expecting it to get very much worse.