End: "...I'll be your submissive partner."

The reporter chewed her lip. A strange look came on Circe's face. One of quiet appraisal.

"Look, what we've been doing tonight hasn't exactly been healthy, right? But if it was...consensual...and there were ground rules. Safewords. I...I'll be your sub. You can...hurt me. Dominate me. Make me eat your pussy. No fighting, no...unnecessary roughness. That way we both get what...we want."

It took more out of Lois to say those words than she thought it would. In truth, tonight had been an emotional rollercoaster, awakening tendencies in her that the Daily Planet's greatest reporter had never known she had...or at least, hadn't wanted to acknowledge. Yet now that she had been faced with them, even the moments of pain and **** had their secret thrill. Yet Lois knew she had to make getting the women out of this brothel a priority.

"Tempting," Circe said. "All the more so because I can tell you really mean it. But how do I know, once these women are free, that you won't immediately renege on our little agreement? Or come down with a headache when we're supposed to have a little...playtime?"

Lois swallowed hard. She stared straight into those hazel eyes. The green fires had retreated until they were tiny flames burning in the very middle of the sorceress' pupils.

"You have my word," the reporter said. "And if you need...more than that. I'm willing to do a show of good faith. Right now."

The older woman's smile widened. She raised her hands in front of her. The forefingers described a circle in the air. There was a trail of green fire...and then a black leather circle fell into the sorceress' palms. A simple iron collar, with a latch but no lock. The kind of thing a prisoner or a **** might have worn two centuries ago.

"This," Circe said. "Is a little piece of magic. It represents a commitment. Only you can put it on. Once it is on your neck, it is invisible, and intangible: no one can see it or feel it except you. The weight of it will be a constant reminder of our bargain...and only I can take it off. Place it on your neck, my pet, and our pact will be sealed. You have my word on it."

And here I was hoping I'd just have to eat out her ass or something, Lois thought to herself. Yet there was ****, really, not in her mind. I have to trust Circe.

She reached out and grasped the collar. It was heavy, as iron is, despite the thinness. Lois had to strain to pull the ring apart wide enough to slip around her neck. As the weight settled on her collar, the latch shut...and the iron melted together until it was a seamless ring of black iron around her throat.

Then it was gone. Lois reached up and touched her collarbone. She could feel the cold weight of it against her skin, but her hand touched only soft, warm skin.

"Now," Circe said. "As for my part..."

The sorceress threw up her arms, and the world exploded in a haze of green fire. Lois felt movement. The flames surrounded her, but didn't burn her. The air was hot and crisp and somehow stale in her lungs. She stumbled but could not feel the sand beneath her feet. Closed her eyes, but the green fire pierced through the lids, so that all her vision was a murky, brilliant purple, the veins of her eyelids dark shadows she could not escape. There were words, voices in the tumult. Circe's and another feminine voice that Lois did not know, in an accent she could not place...

...then the light died. Lois felt clothes on her naked body, solid ground beneath her feet, cool air in her lungs. Heard the gasp of other feminine voices...and when she opened her eyes she was in an alley, fully dressed, with Circe in a purple dress and four familiar women in street clothes.

The missing women. Lois knew their names, their faces from social media.

Circe leaned over and planted a kiss on the reporter's cheek.

"You have work to do. I'll call you. Sometime next week?"

Lois nodded dumbly. The women were looking around the alley, obviously scared, confused. The reporter found her poise, cleared her throat. She could feel the iron collar hang on her.

"My name is Lois Lane, a reporter with the Daily Planet. I came her looking for you..."

The cops were called. The brothel busted. The bad guys, whoever they were, got away. Four women got their lives back. Lois Lane got her story...and something else. Something she would need to come to terms with, in her own way.

A mistress.