Circe Is Out Cold

Lois lane took a deep breath. She was in a pitch-black cell made out of meat, standing over the **** body of an immortal sorceress, who had apparently been trapped here for a non-zero amount of time. The light had died out when she punched Circe's lights out. The reporter closed her eyes and counted to ten, letting the tension flow out of her.

When she opened her eyes, it was as a reporter. She took out her phone and used it as a light. Absorbing details, measuring distances, letting her eye fall where it would...presumably Circe had been over every inch of this room, but Lois had a bit of training with some noted escapists. She had gotten out of prison cells before, and this one would be no different.

The walls gave slightly when she touched them, but she couldn't scratch them with her nails. The only obvious ingress was the sphincter that Lois had crawled through, but that was locked up tight. A too-small-to-crawl-through hole in the floor in one corner was apparently the toilet. A couple of small sphincters at about mouth-height, drooling slightly with some spicy-smelling slime, might have been a food supply, but Lois wasn't ready to test that yet. Either way, they were too small to fit through.

"Eliminate the impossible," the reporter told herself. "Doors are meant to open, it's just a matter of finding the right key."

Her eyes fell, at last on her **** cellmate. Whatever was keeping her here, it was predicated on the limits of Circe. Something she couldn't or wouldn't do.

Steeling herself for what she needed to do, Lois crouched down beside her **** cellmate and began to search her. Ran her fingers over the sorceress' clothes, feeling the warm, soft body beneath the bustier and skirt. Not a lot of muscle tone, though Lois knew that was deceptive and the woman was stronger than she looked. The reporter actually blushed when she grabbed Circe's breasts, feeling the nipples harden slightly against her palms.

Nothing. Not even a strip of paper. Lois considered the tiara momentarily, whether it was sturdy enough to cut into the walls, then shook her head. Too flimsy. Circe would have thought of that.

"C'mon Lane," she muttered to herself. "Just get it over with. You know you have to."

Mouth set, trying not to think too much about what she was doing, Lois ran a hand along Circe's inner thigh...right up to the hairless lips of her mons. Parting the labia gently with two fingers, the reporter gently probed with a single digit. Nothing hidden on the outside, but if there were something, it would be deeper within. So she pressed against the lower part, felt her finger sink into the warm, tight depths, right up to the knuckle...

...and felt her fingernail clink against something hard, buried in the depths of Circe's pussy.

"Bingo," Lois said.