Chapter 12 by Zeebop

What Does Lois Choose?

My Clit

Lois Lane said it quickly. Circe drew on the cigarette's filter, causing the coal to burn red...then orange...and finally an impossibly bright yellow, too bright for any normal cigarette.

The reporter watched in dumb fascination as the cigarette dipped in a careful arc, smoke dribbling from Circe's nostrils. Time did not slow down, no particular music or hush sounded to mark the occasion. The reporter's heart didn't even have time to beat faster before the burning coal came down...just above the clitoris itself, on the back of the hood where it melded in with the normal skin.

So hot that Lois felt only the briefest, sharp pain—and then the skin smoldered and burned, nerves dying. Circe rolled the cigarette lightly, making a perfectly even burn, smoke pouring out of her mouth now. Lizard-like, the pain was finally hitting Lois, the aching burning, the realization of what had just happened...what she had just asked to happen...

It was the magic, Lois told herself. Circe commanded me to do it, made me do it! I would...would never...want that...

"Huaaaah..." The reporter managed, neither an admission of pain or anything else, just a startled exhalation.

Circe got down on her knees, drawing on the cigarette again.

"The pain will fade. The scar will remain. Don't worry," a warm plume of smoke wafted across the reporter's pussy. "I'll kiss it and make it better."

Los felt the touch of unfamiliar lips against her pussy. A small, wet tongue slipping between her labia. The burning pain of the cigarette burn was still there, a dull, hot throbbing pain. The reporter stared down at the little red circle of burned flesh, bits of black and grey ash still stuck in the raw flesh.

A souvenir of this encounter that she would have for the rest of her life.

Resolved hardened in Lois, as the sorceress' tongue explored the depths of the reporter's pussy. That this insult would not go unanswered. All she needed was an opening.