Pics or it didn't happen

You spend a long minute admiring Officer Bailey’s exposed body. In many ways she’s the polar opposite of Wonder Woman, trim and petite compared to the Amazon’s athletic figure, her face trying to hide her fear whereas Diana’s is trying to master her rage.

“Geez, take a picture,” Bailey mutters, “It’ll last…”

She stops suddenly as she realizes she just put the idea in your head. “An excellent suggestion Officer! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that earlier!”

The cop winces as you pull your phone out of your pocket and start taking pictures of her naked, bound body. Hands stretched overhead, tied to the stretcher. Blond hair loose and tousled. Pretty face, trying to look brave, marked with runny mascara. Blue uniform shirt laying open exposing her pale pink flesh and firm young breasts with their rosy tips. Her badge still pinned to her open shirt. Flat athletic stomach and hips. Neatly trimmed blond bush above the slit between her legs. Smooth slender legs, pants and panties bunched around the top of her boots, ankles tied to the bottom rail.

It takes you long enough that you have to make sure and grab the lasso a couple times to reassert your control over the heroine bound in its golden coils. (Each time she mutters something about what a disgusting pig you are, but you’re not really listening.)

By the time you’re done, the petite policewoman has lost the struggle to hold back her tears and they’re running freely down the sides of her face. No loud sobbing tho, so give her credit for that. “You really are quite the little hottie. I mean you’re definitely the runner up in this room, but I think we’d all agree that’s not exactly a fair contest.”

Bailey’s face reddens again and she avoids eye contact. You give the stretcher a good shove and it rolls across the room and hits the far wall with a jolt; you hear her make a startled noise as you turn your attention back to the first place prize winner.

Wonder Woman is still glaring at you like she’s trying to set your eyebrows on fire with just her eyes. (That’s not one of her powers, right?) You snap several wide shots of her bound form bent over the desk. The most beautiful and powerful superheroine in the world. Your prisoner. Yours to play with.

“You are deliberately traumatizing that poor girl. There is no need for it.” Her tone is dangerously level, a calm front hiding the fury beneath.

You take some closer shots of her bare back, wrists cross-tied behind her waist. “As much time as cops spend traumatizing other people, it’s good for them to feel what that’s like.” You move to your left, snapping pics from the side including a generous amount of side boob.

“Is it all women you hate, or just those in positions of power?” her voice drips with condescension. You move to your right and take more pictures from that side.

“It is possible I have some issues with authority figures in general.” You grab her hair and turn her face towards the camera. “But I don’t hate women at all.”

“You don’t hate them, you just like **** them?” she all but snarls. You move around to the front of the desk to take pics from that angle, keeping her face in the shot.

“Exactly. But that’s a fetish thing, not like a political statement or something. I do it because it gives me pleasure, not out of anger.” You lift her head as far up as you can go, arching her back enough that her breasts swing freely for the camera.

“That’s actually worse tho,” the Amazon says when you finally let go of her hair and she can lie back down. “Anger I can understand, even when it’s unmerited or misdirected. But to not even care about the pain your victim’s are in?” She shakes her head as you move around to stand behind her. “Lack of empathy is what makes a true villain.”

Setting down the phone for a minute, you run your hands down the heroine’s sides to her waist where her costume is bunched up. “Can’t argue with that.” You grab her costume in both hands and slowly ease it down over her hips and well-rounded butt. Her spread-legged position prevents you from pulling it down her legs, but you get down it far enough to expose her magnificent ass. You marvel at her bare ass, full and juicy, but also firm and rounded as an athlete’s.

“Then appealing to your better nature is a fool’s errand. So let’s try a different approach,” Wonder Woman turns her head as far towards you as she can and you lock eyes. “Let us go now or I will kill you,” she says in a voice cold enough to freeze ice. “I will twist your head around backwards until I snap your neck, leaving you to die slowly with no control over your body, and the last thing you will know in this world is the smell of your own shit as what used to be your body fouls itself.”

OK Wow, as threats go, that one's solid! And you don’t need the lasso to know she means every word of it. You suddenly remember the video of her breaking that Lord guy’s neck, and feel your sphincter tighten. But too late to back out now.

You break eye contact and look back down. You grab a double-handful of ass cheeks, savoring the feel, and then **** them apart to reveal her brown puckered asshole and hairless pussy.

“I think that threat would be a lot more intimidating from someone whose inner labia weren’t currently experiencing a Kodak moment,” you say as you resume photographing.