Find The Women

Whoever or whatever Blaze is, Lois Lane thought to herself, sounds dangerous. My best bet is to find the women, and see if I can free them from her clutches.

The reporter walked out the door she had come through, putting the moonlit beach and pavilion behind her—and blinked as she walked back into a modern corridor with bright fluorescent lights. A corridor—but not the one she had entered from. The carpet was a deep, plush red, the doors were solid-looking affairs, erotic prints of superheroines in distress were on the walls. The transition was so abrupt that Lois could almost forget, for a moment, that she had ever met Circe. But her ass was still sore, her pussy locked in chastity, and she still bore the brand.

Downstairs, Lois remembered, and walked down the corridor as if she owned it. That was one of the tricks the reporter had learned about being where you shouldn't: if you acted like you were supposed to be there, most of the time people figured you were supposed to be there. Lois prepared to test that theory as she found a slim black woman in a whorish Wonder Woman costume emerge from one of the doors. There were white streams of liquid rolling down her chocolate thighs.

"Hey," Lois said. "What are you doing up here?"

The black woman blinked.

"Blaze wants you downstairs," Lois lied. She maintained eye contact, and the brown eyes quivered.

"What? Why?" the sex worker said. "I didn't do anything wrong..."

"Special customer," Lois said. "Wants a group rate. You know where the other women are, right? She asked me to collect you."

The woman blinked, looked a question...and then forgot it. She turned down the corridor, and Lois followed her.

"I'm Lois, by the way," the reporter said. "I know we haven't met, I'm new here."

"Janice," the black Wonder Woman said. She reached one brown hand back and tried to adjust her crotchless panties. Lois couldn't help but look, and saw a bit of cum ooze out of her asshole as well.

I know how you feel, sister, Lois thought, as she felt her own puffy asshole squeeze in sympathy.

Janice led Lois to a door no different than any of the others; except it led to a set of stairs leading up and down. Nothing posh about this: cold cement and painted metal rails, a bit of graffiti here and there, but no trash or terrible smells. Lois followed her down.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" The black woman said as they hit the end of the stairs. "I'm not on the pill and I need to douche."

"If you're not on the pill, you need Plan B," Lois said frankly. "Let's get the other women first, then I'll take you to a pharmacy."

The reporter bit her tongue, sure her instinctive generous offer would blow her thin cover, but Janice just looked at her oddly, but opened the door...