Craving More Opium

Lois Lane awoke to pain. Not from the piercings in her labia and nipples, the heavy rings that tugged at her flesh; not from the tattoos that now graced her skin, or the brand above her pussy. It was an ache that seemed to pulse in her veins, her head felt several sizes too small, a general malaise that had one cure...

She opened her eyes to find her head on Circe's lap. They were on an L-shaped couch beneath the canopy, the harsh sun blocked by drawn curtains. A long-stemmed pipe was brought down to the reporter's lip, a curl of smoke coming from its bowl.

"Smoke this," Circe said, though she didn't need to. The reporter's lips had already grasped the end of the pipe, pulling the drugged smoke into her mouth, her lungs...and the aching need slowly fled, replaced by a sensation of floating...an odd numbness...and a pleasant languor.

"It will never be this good again," Circe said with a sigh, one hand languidly squeezed the reporter's breast and tugged at a ring on her nipple. "I have tried all the drugs in this world, and that is the one truth; the first, most intense effect is not something you can ever experience twice. Many people have died, chasing that dragon."

Lois Lane's head lolled in the sorceress' lap, opium smoke leaking from the reporter's mouth and nostrils. Her original reason for coming down here seemed so far away now. A distant memory. Circe brushed the hair out of the reporter's eyes and smiled down at her.

"Yet there are other pleasures which you can be addicted to as surely as any drug."

The hazel eyes of the sorceress were limned with green flame.

"I find myself addicted to beautiful women. Like you, Lois. Not what you are...but what you may yet become. How I can shape you, change you...would you like to see some of the others?"