Find the Owner of the Brothel

Lois Lane slipped back into 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.

Things to worry about later. Circe's letter said the owner of the brothel was behind all this. With her game face on, the reporter stalked down the corridor. Sounds came from behind locked doors, raucous laughter, lustful moans, cries of pain mingled with pleasure...and then, at the opposite end a simple door with a brass plaque in the middle:

ANGELICA BLAZE
PROPRIETOR

Strange buzzing noises behind this door, Lois noticed. Her hand tested the brass knob. It turned easily, unlocked. Without knocking, the reporter twisted it and pushed open the door.

A large office. Tastefully appointed. Oak paneling, an erotic oil paintings on the wall of a scarlet devil bearing down a naked woman of Reubenesque proportions while small angels turned their faces away. A small bar topped with black marble, a large and ornately carved wooden desk, behind which sat a tall woman in a business suit, her mass of black air surrounding her face like a mane as she tapped at a laptop.

And to the left, bound and hanging by chains from a metal frame, were four naked women. Vibrating eggs had been taped to their nipples, large vibrating wands taped to their stomachs so the heads directly attacked their clits. Gags in their mouth to prevent their screams, blindfolds over the eyes. Suspended with their arms tied behind their backs, legs folded with their feet against their buttocks. Unable to do anything but twist, abs flexing as their bodies were stimulated, pussies dripping down onto the carpet. As Lois watched, one of them convulsed in an unwilling orgasm, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Lois inhaled sharped, recognizing them as the missing women she had come to find.

"Ah, Lois Lane," the woman behind the desk said. "I lost track of you for a while."

She stood and smiled. It was a Mona Lisa smile, one that spoke of knowing something that the viewer didn't. The face was regal as the bust of Nefertiti, the eyes dark and lustrous. Her accent was off—something Mediterranean.

"Angelica Blaze, I presume?" Lois asked, stepping inside. The sight of the four bound women made her simultaneously nauseous and...tingly. There were worse fates for a woman, the reporter knew now. She knew she had to get them out of there, but this woman—Circe's letter had called her a 'creature'—was no doubt immensely dangerous.

"Yes," Blaze said. "And what are you doing here?"

"I came looking for them," Lois told her, nodding toward the four women. "Why are they like that?"

"They came here looking for a good time. I offered them pleasures they had never dreamed of, for a price. They accepted. So, here they are." The smile widened, showing teeth. "Really, some mortals are such simple prey."

Lois Lane set her jaw. "Let them go."

Blaze sat back in her chair. "And why should I do that?"

"I can report you," Lois said.

Angelica Blaze snorted. "To whom? The police? I have no fear of them. Or of your costumed friends. Do you really not know whom you are dealing with?"

The woman's form wavered, like the air above a hot highway. Red blotches marred her skin, like blood staining silk, spreading rapidly until they covered it all. Black horns jutted from her brow. The eyes closed, and when they reopened they were pure white, with no pupil or iris, looking out at Lois Lane from dark sockets.

Beneath the smell of fresh pussy, Lois caught a trace of brimstone. A demon...

"Deals," Lois said. "You made deals with them. What was their price?"

The demon's head cocked, the white eyes regarding her strangely.

"That they should serve me, for an equal length of time. Every night I indulge them with a new entertainment—and then they serve me as willing whores."

Lois took a deep breath. "And what if I bought out their contracts?"

The demon's smile faded. A mask of earnest seriousness settled on her face.

"You wish for the pleasure they feel?" Blaze asked.

"I want them free. You call it quits with them. What would be the price for that?" Lois asked.

"More than you can pay," the demon said dismissively.

"Try me," the reporter countered.