Circe Cums On Lois Lane's Face

Tongue deep inside Circe's ass, nose up the crack of the sorceress's ass, the reporter felt the butt cheeks quiver, then shudder and spasm. They squeezed tight against her face until the bimbo could hardly breathe, and hot wet juice squirted onto Lois Lane's chin and down her chest as the lavender-haired woman gave vent to a long, loud, noisy exclamation of mingled triumph and relief...and Lois, eyes dull and nipples stiff, kept licking that wet, soft, meaty asshole until the panting sorceress pulled herself off.

"That's...that's enough pet. Good girl. Good."

Lois sat there, tongue still out. A warm glow filled her head at the words.

Good girl.

Idly, the bimbo reporter scratched at her pussy. It itched, deep inside. Lois could feel the need for something in her gash, but a terrible passivity had overcome her, as her mistress gathered her strength and stood up on shaking legs...turning at last to consider the reporter.

"That was...very good," Circe stood before the reporter and began to comb Lois's hair with her fingers. The big violet eyes looked up at Circe, tongue still hanging out of her mouth. "But by the Gods of Darkness, it's strange to see you this way. You barely seem human, brainless as you are. Like a meat puppet. I could whore you out on the street, and you would do it without a whimper."

Lois said nothing. There was nothing to say. Nothing happened behind her eyes. She stared up at her mistress without comprehension, creativity, or drive.

"That won't do," the sorceress said, green fires burning in her hazel eyes now. "I've overshot the mark, haven't I? Stupid is good, obedient is better, but mindless is not fun at all. No, I think we're going to have to give you back...something. If only so that you can suffer all the better."

Hands cupped the reporter's face, and green fire flowed through the sorceress's fingertips, sliding along nerves, burrowing into Lois Lane's brain...and making a few changes.