Epilogue: Going Commando

Sunday evening. Laying spent on the bed. The reporter's body quaked and shivered in the aftermath of her climaxes. Her ass ached so good. She had never imagined...

Circe peeled off the soiled glove from her hand and let it drop into the trash can. A satisfied smile on her face as she sat on the edge of the bed. Laid one hand on Lois Lane's quivering buttock. Enjoying the warm heat of those smooth buttocks. The sorceress licked her lips as her eyes shifted to the plug that Lois had set out to wear to work tomorrow morning.

"I have a new order for you, pet," Circe said softly. "A new thrill. Something to keep you excited all day long."

The purple skirt did not quite extend to Lois Lane's knee. The reporter felt her heart flutter as the breeze picked up, and she had to fight the instinct to tug her swirling skirt down over her long legs. Lois Lane swept on, long legs eating up the miles between her apartment and the Daily Planet building. The comforting weight of the plug in her ass. No panties beneath her skirt.

It added an extra dimension to the day. Lois Lane found herself more conscious of how and where she sat. Once, Jimmy Olsen dropped an eraser during a meeting, and Lois had slammed her knees together. Her cheeks flushed as she thought about Jimmy catching sight of her down there...the tattoos, the labia piercings, the little brand above her shaven slit.

What was worse, she could feel Clark Kent's eyes on her. It was as if the big Kansas farmboy knew there was something different about her. The reporter had started to rub her thighs together, then froze when she heard the tell-tale clink of her labia rings. Clark had looked at her strangely for a moment, but that was all. He didn't say anything, damn him, but Lois felt as if somehow he knew...

Worse, it turned her on. Lois could feel herself start to leak by the afternoon. She had to go to the lady's room and dab at her sodden pussy with the toilet tissue to keep from making an obvious stain on her skirt. A part of her wanted to just pull the plug out right there and fuck her ass with it, but that wouldn't do. Not yet. Not until she got home.

Lois Lane opened the door...and her mistress was there, in a green robe that left her shoulder bare, drinking wine from some ancient, unlabeled bottle. Circe smiled as she saw her pet.

"So," Circe said. "How was your day?"

All of Lois Lane's plans to frig herself to sleep like a horny monkey evaporated as she sought to put into words what she had felt today. Scared. Aroused. Naked, yet clothed. Exposed. Ecstatic. Tense. Free.

Circe's left hand slid under the reporter's skirt. The soft fingertips found the labia rings, and tugged them playfully.

"So you think Clark Kent knows?" The sorceress said.

"I...I don't...I don't know," Lois admitted. "He has a good poker face, if he doesn't. But I caught him looking a few times, and I swear it was as if I was naked before his gaze."

Circe sipped her wine.

"Maybe you were," the sorceress whispered softly. "Or maybe...he doesn't yet know, what he doesn't know."

Lois Lane frowned, trying to make sense of her mistress' comments.

"You did well today, dear heart," Circe said as she stood. The green robe fell from body, and Lois felt her pulse quicken. "Let's get you ready. I have to reward you for your first day going commando."

"First?" Lois Lane said breathlessly.

"Of course," Circe said. "I never said you could stop. In fact, this is just the beginning. No more pants, no more panties. I want you always ready for action, day or night."

Lois swallowed and nodded, shivered with excitement.