Pics or it didn’t happen

Keeping your prisoner pinned down with one hand, you pull out your phone with the other and begin taking pictures of the bound heroine.

“That was not part of our agreement!” Wonder Woman snarls. You get a couple good shots of that snarl.

“True but nor was it prohibited by our agreement,” you respond in a voice thick with lust. You make sure you get good pics of her bound wrists, her head pinned to the table by your hand in her black hair, and her naked ass and exposed slit.

You pull the Amazon off the desk by her hair and spin her around, and she stands before you, naked except for her boots, bracelets, and tiara. Her exquisite face is furious, her blue eyes glaring daggers at you. You lock gaze with those eyes for a long moment, then let your eyes travel downward to her bare chest and shoulders, sleek and athletic but no less feminine for that. Her skin is flushed red with anger which you don’t mind one bit. Her exposed breasts are the most perfect you’ve ever seen: nearly porn star sized, but firm as a young cheerleader’s. You’re pretty sure those nipples could cut glass.

Below that her stomach is as tight and firm as an Olympic athlete’s, her waist narrow above hips far more womanly than most athletes could manage. Her costume is a tangled ring around her red-leather-clad ankles, but her long, powerful legs are spread just enough to give you a good view of her cleanly shaved pubic mound and pussy lips; and her inner labia are visible, reddish and glistening. Words can’t begin to capture her beauty, which for you is only enhanced by her seething rage and powerlessness. She’s so breathtaking you even forget about taking pictures.

The most beautiful and powerful superheroine in the world. Your prisoner. Yours to play with.

It feels like you stand there drinking in the sight of her perfection for hours, but in reality it’s probably like 10 seconds before the throbbing in your pants becomes too intense to ignore. You quickly snap several pictures of her nudity, and her anger starts to be tinged with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry Princess, these are for personal enjoyment only. Besides even if they were to get out, everyone would assume they’re just deep fakes anyway.” She doesn’t reply as you return the phone back to your pocket, and placing both hands on her shoulders press her down onto her knees.