Lois Finds Help

Lois Lane, dressed in her slutty nurse outfit, wheeled the **** sorceress through the hallways. This part of the building swiftly became swankier: plush red carpeted hallways, freshly painted walls, heavy wooden doors with heavy locks, framed erotic prints on the wall...but nothing that looked like a nurse's station or a first-aid kit.

After a few minutes, however, Lois caught a woman in a leather catgirl outfit slipping out of a room. The reporter quickly wheeled her charge up to her, trying to frame the question...but one glass from the catwoman at Circe's busted pussy and ass and the woman pointed down the hall.

"Elevator at the end of the corridor. Bottom floor, take a right when you get off, straight through the staff door."

"Thanks," Lois said as she quickly wheeled her charge down the corridor. The Star Sapphire ring glowed, and the reporter didn't even bother to walk, floating an inch above the carpet.

The elevator was an older model, one of those steel-cage affairs that looked like it was from another, more elegant age. Cramped, too; Lois carefully reshaped the chair to better fit, then jabbed a button that might have been made from real ivory.

The reporter took the opportunity of the trip to bend over and look at Circe's busted pussy. It still had that deflated-look, the labia not closing, and she could see a thin pool of bright red blood in the seat of the wheelchair. But it didn't smell bad...Lois didn't know much about this sort of thing, but she figured if the damage was more than superficial there would be some sort of smell, or a lot more blood, or something.

With a ding and a jolt, the elevator hit bottom. Circe moaned in her sleep.

"Just hold on," Lois whispered. "We'll get you fixed up."

She wondered vaguely what that would entail. Stitches, probably. Hopefully no surgery. Probably she wouldn't be able to fist Circe until she healed, but possibly she could still lick her pussy...and as the Star Sapphire ring burned a little brighter, Lois realized she wanted to do that.

Lois wheeled Circe to the right. It was a corridor like above, but shorter. The last door had a brass plaque marked "STAFF." The reporter wheeled forward and the door opened before she got there. The room beyond was all white tile and metal shelving filled with boxes of bandages, hypodermic needles, etc. There was a gynecology chair, and a computer. A woman in a white labcoat turned as Lois wheeled her in.

A very striking woman. Her head was shaped like the bust of Nefertiti, with wild black hair that fell down behind her shoulders. Dark eyes above a Mona Lisa smile, a few inches taller than Lois but slim, lithe, like a marathon runner. Beneath the labcoat she wore a black t-shirt and black jeans and black boots, more punk than medical.

"Client or employee?" she asked. The door shut behind Lois on its own.

"Client," Lois said.

"Well, let's get her up on the chair," she glanced at Lois. "You're new?"

"Yes," Lois said, glad that she didn't have to specify.

"I'm Dr. Blaze." she said.