Long Enough For Lois Lane's Virgin Ass To Get Violated

The reporter could feel the progress as Circe cut the strange design into her scalp. She could also feel the progressed as the wooden bump slowly grew, pressing inexorably against her anus. So slow that a part of her wished that it just got it over with and plunged full-tilt into her ass, though another part of her was glad that it didn't.

Blood ran down from her scalp as Circe sang a weird, wordless tune. The wooden bump grew...and Lois hovered on the edge for long minutes, not sure whether to clench down and fight it, or just relax and let it happen. While all of her instincts told her to fight, the rational part of the reporter's brain knew that this was inevitable—the harder she fought, the more damage it would do going in. Then she'd have a bloody, torn asshole.

So, hating herself, Lois **** her body to relax. Tried to distract herself with the scratch of the needle against her scalp. The heat of the sun on her tanned skin. The weight of the rings pulling at her nipples. Yet every time she thought she had gone away what was growing beneath her...the bump seemed to push up a little further.

Until it was in her.

Lois Lane's immediate instinct was to push it out. Like going to the bathroom. She had to fight that instinct, and **** herself to relax once again. Find her calm spot, deep inside. Ancient meditative techniques from a bullshit course that she'd taken as an elective in college, coming back to her with crystal clarity as she struggled to control her breathing, to remember the advice porn stars gave about taking it up the ass.

The peg—Lois could think of it as nothing else—grew inexorably and only in one direction. A little deeper, a little wider as the minutes ticked by, her tan deepening as the sun refused to give her any way to track the time. Only the growth of the peg in her ass, the movement of Circe's needle across her head, the trickles of blood running down from the wounds.

At some point, maybe because of the heat, Lois began to lose it.

Her scalp hurt, but most of it was a dull throb, the wounds already closing. Lois Lane's ass...she could feel the peg there, and it felt huge, like sitting on a traffic cone, though the reporter knew it must be smaller than that. Yet maybe it was the heat...the blood loss...the pain...or just being **** to sit in the chair and endure it, to relax and let it happen to her, but Lois could feel a part of her reticence slip away.

Like a runner's high, she suddenly felt somewhat giddy and excited. The pain was still there, but she was floating on top of it. Her pussy, untouchable, burned for attention but that only seemed to add to the whole sexual thrill. It was like being bound without ropes, her whole being attuned to what Circe would do next...and she finally heard the sorceress sing.

"...let it go, can't hold it back anymore..."