Lois Knows She's A Bimbo

Lois Lane opened her eyes as wide as she could. It was like coming up out of general anesthetic after surgery...or moving from drunk to sober in an instant. There was just that utter snap from dazed and confused to being painfully conscious and in the moment. Suddenly she was aware of what she had been doing...what she had done...and Circe smiled when she saw the light of recognition in the reporter's eyes.

"Ah, perfect," the sorceress said, the green fires retreating into her fingertips. "How do you feel, pet?"

"Like, my pussy's empty," Lois said, her voice a bit high-pitched compared to how she normally spoke. The reporter's brow furrowed and she frowned. "I mean, I really want a tongue in my gash. Or maybe a finger. Or..."

The reporter clapped a hand over her mouth to stop her own babbling. Circe grinned.

"You're still a bimbo, pet. You can't help that. But now you know you're a bimbo...and you will suffer, knowing you're a bimbo, unable to stop yourself from saying whatever crude thought comes into your mind, or turning down any sexual offer. If I asked you to suck my clit right now..."

Lois suddenly sat up straight, like a dog when its master waves a tennis ball. She felt her mouth open, salivating...and hated herself for it.

"...but no, pet, you've done an admirable job on my pussy tonight. In fact, I was thinking such excellent service deserves a reward."

The reporter quivered, mind racing, trying to think of some way to flee, fight, rebel...but found her eyes distracted by the other woman's breasts, the saliva drying on the inside of her thighs, the precious little pussy between those legs. Lois wanted to scream.

"The only question is: do I call some of the other ladies here to entertain you...or do I send you out there as you are, and enjoy your escapades?"