Impale Yourself On My Wooden Cock

The reporter gulped...but she found herself sliding backwards, the hard wooden cock slipping deeper inside her asshole, stretching her little hole...and maybe it was that, or the little bit of friction, that made Lois Lane imagine it was starting to burn. Even though she knew and could feel that the wooden shaft was well-lubed, and Circe was murmuring something under her breath as her hands pressed into the reporter's ass, those thumbs spreading the cheeks away from the asshole that was gobbling up her wooden cock.

Until the reporter's ass wrested against the harness attached to the sorceress' hips.

"I think I like you like this," Circe said. "Do you like it, Lois?"

The reporter gasped at her name, spoken aloud.

"Yes, I know who you are," the sorceress told her. The hands began to roam more widely on Lois Lane's ass, digging into the muscle, massaging and caressing. The cock, though it hadn't looked huge, felt bigger now that it was inside Lois Lane's asshole. "And why you've come here. An uppity devil established this place and drew those missing women to her. Do not worry, I have...arranged their release."

"Why?" Lois shivered, which set her new piercings to jangle. She looked back over her shoulder at her mistress...and had a sudden strange sense of someone else looking out through her eyes, seeing the older woman's naked breasts running with sweat, the confident grin.

"Because you are mine now. It pleases me to aid you in this way. I aid you in your endeavors...and you, in turn, will serve me in mine."

Slowly, gently, Circe's hips drew back. Lois felt herself breathing carefully through her mouth...and then grunted, eyes widening in surprise after only an inch, the sorceress suddenly rammed the wooden-strap on back inside of the reporter's asshole...only to immediately begin withdrawing again, in that slow and deliberate way.

"You will return to your life, Lois. You will conceal your new piercings and tattoos, the brand that declares your cunt is mine. It is very important that none of your coworkers know...because secrets are power, Lois."

The reporter grunted as, all of sudden, the wooden cock was slammed back inside of her. That was how Circe wanted to fuck her, drawing out the anticipation, the thrust itself almost an act of **** that rocked through the reporter's whole body—and Lois felt her hands digging into the sand, mind and body on edge as she waited for that moment.

"I like your ass," Circe grunted. Lois had to push back now, because each thrust threatened to drive her forward through the burning sand. Now she didn't have to imagine it: her asshole was on fire, aching inside from the repeated hard thrusts. "But you need training. I think I'm going to have you start wearing a butt plug to work. Would you like that, Lois?"