Epilogue: Lois Lane, Circe's Fucktoy

"Lois...will you marry me?"

"Oh Clark," the reporter couldn't keep a stupid grin off her face as she leaned down to take the ring and draw him into a kiss. "Of course! You only had to ask..."

So the weeks and months had become years, and the day arrived. Lois in her white dress, Clark Kent in his tuxedo...and while her side of the church, the bride's side, was filled with family and friends and officers, his side was filled with un-costumed superheroes. There was Clark Grant elbow-to-elbow with Wonder Woman, and Bruce Wayne shoulder-to-shoulder with Perry White. Jimmy Olsen was the official photographer, trying to snap everybody at once...and just for a moment, Lois waited in her antechamber, all of her bridesmaids out, to stare at herself in the mirror...and a familiar pair of hands lifted her veil.

Lois turned, big skirt swaying, and Circe stood there, in a dress of green and lavender that left her shoulders bare and showed off a great deal of cleavage, formal and elegant and yet also sultry and seductive.

"Mistress!" Lois whispered, and turned her head to nuzzle the hand that came up to press against the bride-to-be's cheek. "I didn't think you'd come."

"Of course, pet," Circe smiled wickedly. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. After all...while you are about to swear your vows...I think it only appropriate to remind you who you really belong to."

With sudden ****, Lois found herself pressed up against the glass, one hand at her throat, the other pressed against her groan. The smile on Circe's lips became a haughty sneer, the hazel eyes burning green.

"You will conceive on your wedding night, Lois Lane," Circe spoke. "I guarantee it. Your children shall be strong and beautiful. Yet I also promise you this: none of your husband's sperm will ever reach your womb."

A terrible heat seared through the reporter's abdomen. Green light burned through the layers of white cloth, through the silk panties, and the reporter moaned as her cunt throbbed at the supernatural intrusion. She hung there for a moment in mingled agony and ecstasy....and then the light vanished, and the hand at her throat released her, becoming once again that wonderful caress.

Circe slipped back and drew up her skirt, which reached just below the knee, until it was around her hips. Dazedly, the bride-to-be saw the green heels, the dark stockings held up with garters...and the lavender-haired pussy nestled between the older woman's thighs.

"You know what to do," Circe told her, and Lois did.

She drew up her bridal skirts in both hands, careful not to rumple it, and knelt down. Glad now that she had not yet put on her lipstick, because this would have smeared it terribly as she buried her face once more in that tight, hot jungle she knew and loved so well.

Yes, loved. For as much as she loved Clark Kent, Superman, so too did Lois know she could deny her mistress nothing of her affections. She had been a constant companion through highs and lows, had helped Lois celebrate her betrothal and eased her fears leading up to the wedding. When Lois was with her, she could be...just a woman, jsut a slut, just a creature of pleasure and pain and desire and obedience, all cares in the world left aside for the time they were together...and with Clark she always had to be so perfect, the woman on the pedestal, the loving wife...and soon, loving mother.

As Lois wet her lips against Circe's cunt, she wondered how Clark would react if only only knew how she was betraying him...and the thought of it set her loins on fire.

She could hear Circe breathe deeply as her tongue delved into the sorceress's depths, then came up to suck at the little clitoris, to trace the scar when once her labia had ripped...

"Enough!" The woman said huskily, and grabbed Lois's shoulders to pull her away.

"There will be a time for this, later," Circe said, her voice shaking with repressed excitement. "For all of our little games. But for now...you have a ceremony to attend. Duties to fulfill."

She lifted the reporter's sticky chin, and produced a green handkerchief to wipe Lois's face clean.

"You promise?" Lois said, still kneeling there.

"I promise," Circe smiled, almost in a motherly way. "Do as I have taught you. Suck his cock. Tease his ass. Let him taste you, let him enter you. Be the insatiable slut. Give him everything he has ever wanted..." The lips pulled back to show rows of white, even teeth. "I will do the rest. And we will never really be apart, my little fucktoy."