Circe Has Left A Part Of Herself In Lois Lane's Mind

Circe licked her lips. "Delicious."

Lois Lane was lying splayed out on the sand, panting gently. She had never cum like that. Ever. Not on her own, not with anyone else. More than that, she had never been multi-orgasmic. A normal climax was about five seconds long; Lois normally took longer to enjoy a really good chocolate chip cookie. But this had been something else. At least a sustained minute of endless pussy-spasming, squirting, toe-curling, brain-blasting pleasure. Even now, she felt a quiver in her thigh muscles.

The whole time...the reporter couldn't think about anything except Circe. Try as she might, the reporter couldn't hold the image of Superman in her mind, hadn't been able to fantasize about him at all.

"What did you do to me?" Lois said, throat dry and cloaking slightly.

Circe made a gesture, and a moment later a pair of glasses of wine were in her hands.

"I made you cum...I think it was three times? Maybe four."

"I lost count," Lois said. She sat up and accepted the glass of wine. Pale, crisp, and dry, tiny bubbles fizzing. Champagne. The reporter sipped it down. "But that's not what I meant."

Circe ran a finger around the rim of her glass. "I told you that your cunt is mine. I don't just mean your physical pussy. If I'm going down on a woman, I want her to be...present. So I've woven a little piece of myself into the weft of your mind. Nothing much; but when you do think of sex...well, it'll be sex with me. And no one else."

Lois finished the wine quickly. She frowned. "I don't like that. Take it out."

"Carrots and sticks," Circe stood up and stretched. Her fingers flickered, and a cigarette appeared in the sorceress' hand. She lit it with a green spark, and coaxed the coal into life with a short puff.

"I'm serious!" Lois said and tried to stand.

"Sit," Circe commanded, and Lois Lane sat, her legs apart, sand pressing against her asshole. "Do not move."

The sorceress regarded her from above as she spoke.

"I have given you a gift. A way to be with me when I'm not there. If you are ungrateful enough to refuse it..."

The coal glowed at the end of the cigarette as Circe popped into a squat between the reporter's spread legs. There was something crow-like in the older woman's posture. She blew smoke into the reporter's face, making Lois Lane's eyes water.

"...you will need a reminder of who you belong to. So tell me...where should I put out my cigarette this time? Your pussy...or your nipple...perhaps your pretty little face?"

"You wouldn't!" Lois hissed, even though she knew that Circe was more than capable of such a thing.

The cigarette moved. It hovered in front of the reporter's eye...like staring straight into a roaring fire. Lois could feel the heat of it, and she couldn't even blink.

"Tell me where you want me to burn you, slut," Circe said. "Or I will blind you."