The charity speech takes a turn.

It took Brandon a moment to recognize her outside of her uniform, which was ironic considering he’d already seen her effectively naked. But she had a different presence without her bracers or tiara, a slight adjustment in her natural dignity that made her seem at home among women of high society. Her black dress nodded at traditional Amazonian clothing, with gold trim around her cleavage and a gold belt atop her wide hips. The lower half draped over itself like a layered toga, with a tasteful gap exposing one leg up to mid-thigh. Two thin straps held the dress in place on her shoulders, effortlessly sexy without being risqué, and gold accent pieces decorated her upper arms, wrists, and ankles. She didn’t need the heels to accentuate her backside, but Brandon appreciated it nonetheless as he sauntered behind the podium to get a better look. Only a few seconds in and already she leaned forward, panting into the microphone and rolling back her shoulders to thrust her chest forward. “Good afternoon. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m a superhero.”

A smattering of polite laughter came from the back of the room, and Wonder Woman grumbled something about advice from the Flash. “I’ve fought countless villains during my career: gods, sorceresses, aliens, robots, and even ordinary, garden-variety muggers. But as anybody in the Justice League will tell you, no superhero can handle everything alone. There are some problems too big, too intricate, too insurmountable for even us to tackle. And that’s where you come in. With your tireless efforts, you are doing good in ways we cannot. So let me begin with a message from all of us on the Watchtower: thank you.”

This received a better reception; Brandon wasn’t surprised the fancy business folk would rather applaud themselves than an almost-literal goddess in their midst. During the brief pause she gained by appealing to her audience’s narcissism, Wonder Woman pulled the straps of her dress down her shoulders, and already she looked more like herself. A few of the ladies near the podium followed her lead, letting shoes fall from their feet or slipping off their blazers. Brandon tried his best to ignore them—and also the stage fright from having all their attention only a few feet away. He unzipped his pants and began stroking himself, bringing his dick to its full size while she continued.

“Truly, it’s amazing to see how big your hearts are.” She pulled down the front of her dress and bra—sure, now she wore one—flashing her round, impressively large breasts at the room. Her hands left the podium and cupped her tits, caressing their undersides and playing her fingertips over her nipples. “When we of the Justice League have our hands full, you’re dealing with heavy problems of your own. Problems everybody knows about, but few have the courage to expose for the world to see. Problems like housing, access to medicine, hunger…” she bit her lip and sighed into the microphone, “thirst. Problems you can’t solve by throwing a super-powered punch. Rather, they need deft, experienced hands to give them what they need, hands you are more than capable of providing. Truly, I wish women the world over were as handsy as you are.”

While the audience chuckled—and several of them took her advice—Wonder Woman unclasped her belt and shimmied her dress past her hips. It fell around her feet, leaving her in just shoes, panties, and a few pieces of gold jewelry. “In a way, I like to think of us as allies, dealing with society’s ills with a two-handed approach. While we deal with the villains right in everybody’s faces—” One hand returned to her breast, while the other rubbed her crotch. “—you deal with things at a lower level. And by ‘lower’, I don’t mean less important. Exactly the opposite. What you touch is critical, and you need to touch it as often as possible.”

Brandon grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand from her chest to his dick. She began pumping it immediately, if awkwardly, but he could only expect so much from somebody who’d spent most of her life on an island without men. “B-big…er, sometimes our problems seem too big to handle. You’re not even sure they’ll fit…in your limited time, or with your limited resources. But the women I see before me aren’t intimidated by that. They see something they can barely get their hands around and interpret it as a challenge.” The pace of her fingering increased, focused right above the damp stain forming on her panties. “They want to take it on. They want to get on top of it. They want to be filled…” her voice trailed off and her grip tightened, involuntary reactions to the equally-involuntary orgasm making her knees quake and her eyes flutter. The Society waited patiently for her to come down, and many in the front rows joined her in sweaty, trembling bliss. “…filled with the knowledge that the world is a better place for their efforts.”

Even the waitresses by the door unfastened a few blouse buttons, the result of being in the amulet’s thrall or a sign of the heat rising in the closed room. Rather than let their arousal fester until an orgy spilled into the hallway, Brandon took the initiative in yanking Wonder Woman’s last bit of clothing down to her ankles. He pulled her to the long table next to the podium, where other speakers and guests of honor pleasured themselves with fingers, spoons, ice cubes, or anything else at hand. She carried the microphone with her, and her speech continued while he laid her on her back and took his place standing between her upraised legs. "And yet we know our work isn’t done. There’s still more to do, more opportunities to take on the world’s thickest, hardest issues. But I’m confident nobody in this room will rest until we’ve plunged into these challenges and come—“ She likely meant to finish her sentence, but at that moment Brandon thrust into her balls-deep, and her throat spasmed with a guttural cry of approval.