End: Puppies

Lois froze at the word. Her mind rebelled, she refused to move another inch. The immortal sorceress was mad, she couldn't.

"Take my knot."

The order rang through the reporter's being. Lois Lane fought against it with every fiber of her will...yet her body began to sink down, her pussy spreading gently as more and more of the reporter's weight pressed against the thick bulge at the end of the canine cock. Forbidden shivers ran up the reporter's spine, and she hated herself for the pleasure she felt at violating this taboo, but though she raged she couldn't stop herself from pressing down lower...and lower.

Her cunt lips spread wider and wider, and Lois Lane groaned, feeling herself stretched beyond anything in her experience. She focus on her muscles, telling them to move, to stop, to just do something other than what the sorceress had commanded...but weak and exhausted as she was, the reporter couldn't stop herself, until with a sudden, almost painful rush she felt the knot slip in, and then swell a little further, making escape impossible.

Free for a moment from the terrible influence, Lois moaned, half in ecstasy and half in disbelief. She could see pierced pussy stretched and filled to its limits, the labia bulging out from the mass of of the knot inside of her. It was obscene, unholy...and as much as she hated to admit it, strangely exciting. A weird, terrible pride flashed through the reporter's mind.

I did it, I took it...this must be what getting fisted feels like.

Circe's hands crept up to grasp the reporter's midsection, reminding the exhausted and impaled reporter she was there.

"Ovulate," the sorceress whispered.

Lois waited, not feeling anything..and then wondered if she would, in fact feel anything. That was the horror of it, not knowing if her body had responded to Circe upon a matter that Lois herself had no control over.

Beneath her, Circe began to move. Lois, barely able to stay upright, was a dead weight as the immortal's hips began to buck, sending the point of that dick digging into the back of her vagina, the urethra just lining up with her cervix. The reporter knew what the witch was doing but was determined to give her no satisfaction. It was the last bit of rebellion that she had left, and the exhausted reporter was determined to fight her with that if nothing else.

The body beneath her tensed. The cock inside seemed to swell that last little margin, and despite her wishes Lois felt a little gasp and moan of pleasure pass through her lips as the warm cum spewed into her overfilled pussy.

Then Circe uttered the final, most terrible command.

"Cum."

White light flashed through Lois Lane's brain. She could not fight it, her whole vaginal canal rippling as it sought to milk the canine cock, to suck the hot, virile splooge into her fertile womb. Her aching anus flexed and shook, spitting the final spatters of jizz out onto Circe's stomach as though it too ached to be filled, and the final reserves of stamina that had kept her awake finally failed. Still mounted on the dick, cunt stuffed with cum, quietly shuddering with climax in her sleep, Lois Lane lost consciousness.

She awoke to the screech of the alarm. In her own bed. Her own clothes. Lois Lane stared at the ceiling, wondering if the events of the night were just a strange, terrible dream. There was only one way to be sure.

So she sat up, lifted her shirt and pulled down her pants...and nearly wet herself with terror as she beheld the fine, intricate letters of the brand the declared her pussy, now and forever, the property of Circe.