Give Circe The Piglets She Wants So Badly

It was hard with her trotters. The pain in elbow and knee as Lois struggled within her pigplay bondage. She had to manipulate the giant syringe carefully, her fingers still locked away, and body precariously balanced on all-fours. The **** witch, at least, had the good grace to fall in such a way that her bare pussy was exposed—Lois had not been looking forward to trying to pry her panties out of Circe's tight twat with her teeth—and Lois slowly but industriously lined up the nozzle of the syringe with its dangerous load and Circe's **** cunt.

Lois Lane didn't even know if Circe was ovulating. This whole procedure, gently nudging the blunt tip of the syringe toward the wet slit, could have been completely pointless, except as a form of ****...and Lois was not the type of woman that normally engaged in ****.

Then again, the Daily Planet's Greatest Reporter was used to being tied up, tied down, taken captive...she was used to a degree of bondage, and even humiliation. They had never touched the core of her, however. There had always been some chance to fight back, some boundary respected, if only because they feared the police or Superman might care what would happen if Lois was killed or violated.

Circe...had gone too far. Now, Lois Lane felt for her own self-respect, she needed to get her own back.

The witch did not stir as the rounded nose of the syringe slowly parted her lips. There was a livid bruise, but no blood, and Lois could see Circe's breasts rise and fall. She was asleep, ****, and would no doubt wake with a terrible headache...but she was alive, and didn't seem to have slipped into a coma or be in any imminent danger of dying.

Or waking.

The whole of the nozzle slid in without much friction, and as the shoulders of the syringe pressed against the labia, Lois debated how much further to take this—but then she remembered what Circe was going to do for her. The hooks dug into her nose as she pushed harder on the syringe, carefully not to touch the plunger. It wasn't easy, but with sufficient **** the wider shoulders of the tube passed through those lips...and Lois pushed it forward until it couldn't go any further, though only about half the tube was inside.

Which might be about right, the reporter thought to herself. If her uterus hasn't moved, there would only be a few inches. The nozzle might be poking into her cervix.

Something about that image caused a tingle of excitement. The reporter's pussy was exposed in this get-up, and she could almost feel the dampness in the exposed air. Very carefully, Lois placed her right trotter on the plunger at the base of the syringe...and knew that this was the moment of decision. If she pushed forward, there was no going back. She could just leave the syringe where it was...leave Circe to awaken and see what Lois could have done, if she was determined to be an evil bitch.

Or, Lois thought, and waggled the plug that held the curly pig-tail in her asshole. I could BE the evil bitch, and give Circe a taste of her own medicine.