A Wooden Strap-On

Even through the haze of ****, Lois Lane's eyes widened.

The wooden phallus that was brought forward was on the larger side, at least compared to the men Lois had been used to dealing with—eight inches long, and thick as a coke can. The burnished brown wood was polished to a high shine, smooth brown with darker whorls and knots. A sizable plug allowed it to be slotted into the vagina of the wearer, and green hempen vines served to loop around hips and legs to secure it in place.

As Ivy did now, sliding the reporter's legs apart so that she could squeeze the plug into the reporter's wet slit. Lois grunted at the sudden, cool penetration, the hard mass and weight of the sex toy tugging at her insides...and like a living thing, the green vines lashed themselves into place, squeezing the reporter's thighs and tugging the wooden prick flush against her pussy. It almost felt like something was pressed directly against the reporter's clit.

"Do you like it? I grew it myself. I wanted Harley to wear it...but she can be so...insufferable about these things."

The green eyes flashed, and briefly Lois wondered if she was about to get **** because Poison Ivy was on the outs with her girlfriend.

The villain brushed the hair from the reporter's face. With exaggerated care she checked the reporter's pulse, looked into her eyes to see how dilated they were...and then nodded with satisfaction.

"Release her. The **** have taken effect now. She's my obedient ****."

Ivy's goons released Lois...and yet, stangely, the reporter couldn't **** herself to sit up. Didn't even want to. It felt almost like those moments at night when she woke up from some terrible dream, and for a moment her arms and legs didn't respond to her.

"You see...I've been refining my formula. The oils in this wooden shaft are impregnated with them. Heat and friction releases them, and they're easily absorbed through the mouth...anus...and vagina. With it inside you, you'll be constantly under the influence—my influence—and so will anyone you fuck. You'll be the first in my new army of slaves!"

A pale green hand stroked the reporter's cheek.

"That's the hypothesis, anyway. But we need to test it. A proper experiment...the only question is, who do I have you fuck?"