Circe Unlocks Lois Lane's Pussy...To Fist It

The expression on the immortal sorceress' face was unreadable. Lois Lane, nose-deep in Circe's cunt, could make out the drunken flush of the cheeks, the dilated eyes that portrayed sexual arousal...but there was something else going on behind those eyes, some inner world that the reporter could only guess at. Strange hungers and desires beyond anything that Lois could conceive.

"Get on your back," Circe said after a long moment. "And spread your legs. I'm going to unlock you."

With feigned ****, Lois Lane drew her pink tongue away from the spit-slick slit. She could still taste Circe in her mouth, slightly sour. The reporter leaned back on the chair and spread her legs. Heavy metal rings pierced her labia, tied together by a segmented metal rod so that the shaven lips were pressed tightly in a firm line. Circe brought forth the key...a long thin rod covered with small dimples...and somewhat uneasily, obviously drunk, bent over and slipped it into the metal lock.

Lois released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding as the pressure holding her labia together suddenly eased. There was a jingle as the heavy metal rings clanked against each other.

I did it, Lois thought to herself. I got her to unlock me. Now...

Circe curled her right hand into a fist. Lois quivered, sensing what was coming...and knowing nothing she could do would prepare her for it.

The first came down, gently. Knuckles touching her labia. Sparks of green fire in Circe's eyes.

"You're tight," she said. The words weren't slurred...not much...but Lois Lane had no doubt in that moment that Circe was a mean drunk.

The knuckles pressed harder against the reporter's lips. She could feel them grind at the entrance to her pussy. Pussies were elastic, they could stretch...stretch very wide. But they needed time...not right away. The green fire was glowing under Circe's skin down, along her veins and arteries, making its way down to her hand.

"Men like tightness. It feels better around their cocks. They don't like loose old saggy pussies."

Lois stifled a cry as the fist pressed harder. She'd never been fisted before. The reporter tried to breathe, to relax, to **** her pussy to relax and open it up. The green flame was almost at Circe's wrist, and the fist was digging in deeper.

"I was tight once. They don't tell you about that part of the myth, do they? The young sorceress, beautiful and carefree...until Zeus came to her in the form of a centaur."

With a sudden surge of pain, the hand pressed down, the folds of the reporter's pussy opening to swallow the hand. Lois choked back a curse as she saw green fire spreading from her cuntlips. Her veins felt electrified, every nerve on end, pain and pleasure together.

"Other women, subject to the same treatment, would never have been able to walk again. I pissed blood for a month. Until the moon-blood came." The green fire in the sorceress' eyes flashed. "That was my one triumph. He had ruined me, but he had not claimed me."

The green fire outlined the brand just above Lois Lane's pussy, and this time the reporter could never suppress a whimper.

"Now, as this pussy belongs to me, I am going to ruin it for all men. You will use it to pleasure me, or no one at all."