Make Jimmy Her Bitch

His testicles were still in her palm. Every time they began to sag and relax, her fingers squeezed until the nails bit into the flesh. Jimmy Olsen stood on tenterhooks as she fixed the makeup as well as she could one-handed. At any moment, someone might come in and see them—and they both knew it.

"Miss Lane," Jimmy said after an agonizingly long time. "Could you...before someone sees..."

"You've been here before, haven't you Jimmy?" Lois asked.

"Yes," the redhead said. He seemed to deflate slightly as he realized she wasn't going to let go.

"Four women have gone missing here in the last few weeks," Lois stared at him in the mirror. His penis had shrunken into a soft, limp little useless thing. A metaphor for his life. "You don't know anything about that."

"Gee no, Miss Lane," Jimmy said. "I just...you know, take a few pictures, maybe use a glory hole..."

"But you must know where the real action happens," Lois regarded him out of the corner of her eye.

Jimmy gulped.

"D-downstairs. There's supposed to be a...S&M club...kindof...real underground action."

"Good," Lois said as she put her makeup away. "We're going."

She deigned to look at the balls still in her hand. His shrunken dick had dribbled a little post-ejaculation goo into the palm of her hand.

"Right after we take care of that."