Okay...Mistress

"You don't sound okay," Circe said. A cold wet cloth ran over the reporter's naked scalp. Surprisingly, it didn't set her wounds to hurt...they only sort itched. Like ants crawling on her scalp.

"I've never had anything up my ass before," Lois confessed. "I don't know if I like it. But it feels...different."

"Hmm. I remember when I was your age. Do you know what we had for lubricant in that part of ancient Greece? Rancid goat butter. My family couldn't even afford olive oil." The rubbing grew more intense, and the itching spread over the reporter's scalp. Lois felt her neck wobble a little, slightly light-headed. "All the men and women that played with their ass would go around smelling like butter that had gone off, the goats following and trying to lick them. We used to make jokes about it. Very bad jokes. We were a crude people, then...but the magic flowed strongly in our family."

"You don't seem very crude to me...mistress." Lois felt the need to add.

"No. Now I'm old and decadent. My ass has seen more cocks than you know, my little slut. When you are old and powerful, you can afford to engage in many things that mortals only dream of...and our tastes tend to get baroque. It is why I like little lesbian flings, every now and again. Not because I grow tired of cocks, but because there is nothing quite like the taste and feel of a woman."

Circe seemed lost in her memories for a moment, and now the itching of the reporter's scalp had become a kind of pleasant burning, and she almost fancied she felt a kind of...friction...a prickliness.

"I'm regrowing your hair," the sorceress told her, unprompted. "The design I have cut into your flesh lets me read your thoughts and play with your body without the messiness of giving you orders. Now, only thought is needed. For example..."

Without thinking, Lois did. The wooden cock in her ass plunged suddenly upward, far past the point where the reporter had stopped, and Lois gasped in shock and pain as it plunged deeper in her ass, the board the peg was afixed to slapping into her ass hard.

The towel, or whatever it was, was removed from the reporter's head. Black hair fell down before her eyes. The naked, pierced, and tattooed reporter sat skewered in her chair...and she squirmed, unable to bring herself to lift herself off of the wooden peg, which felt like it had punctured into her lower intestine...although now that the shock was wearing off, there was less pain and more simply a very intense sensation of being penetrated.

"Would you like to see what else I can do?" Circe asked, her hands lightly grasping the reporter's shoulders. "Or is there something in particular you want from your mistress?"