Whip Her Cunt

She brought the whip up in an under-arm motion, like pitching a softball. There was a sharp crack as the pale glowing lashes of the whip touched the sorceress' exposed cunt, and Circe's whole body tensed and shook as she howled in shock and pain...and arousal.

Lois could see it in the hard nipples, the little clit poking out of its hood. She brought her arm back and flicked forward again...harder this time...

Red lines began to show against the pale flesh of the labia. The reporter did not let up. She could feel the shock every time the whip made contact, and the sorceress' screams were tinged with lusty moans. Lois Lane could hardly imagine what it felt like, the sharp pain, the embarrassment, the rush of chemicals in the brain as they went to the site of the injury, the long, lingering ache.

The whip cracked again.

Over and over, until Lois was panting, her forearm aching, and the insides of Circe's thighs and that slight swell of her mons to the pale belly were criss-crossed with red welts, some of them turning purple. Strength slid out of the bound immortal's limbs by degrees, so that after a dozen lashes she leaned forward, held aloft only by the glowing bonds on her arms. The sorceress' head lolled on her shoulder, body slick with sweat, thighs quivering uncontrollably.

Lois brought the whip up again...gently this time, the lashes limp as she rubbed the tip of the handle against the bruised slit.

"Is that...enough?" The reporter-cum-dominatrix panted. "Shall I get on my knees, kiss it and make it better? Or do you want more?"

Slowly, Circe opened her half-closed eyes. There was a terrible light in those eyes, which flashed through different colors...now hazel, now green, now blue...and a smile curled onto those lips as she raised her head...and in a clear, distinct voice she said: