Sneaky

69%, Lois thought. Best to save the charge.

Leaving the immortal sorceress where she was, the faux-Star Sapphire let the tentacle-strap-on fade and stepped out of the Amazon Room—to appear as just another prostitute dressed in a skimpy, pussy-revealing superperson outfit. Closing her eyes, Lois could still visual the map of the brothel that the ring had supplied her. She needed to go down this corridor to a door, and down the stairs and...

Heels clicked on the steps as Lois descended. She was already working out the details of her backstory, why she wasn't with a customer. If anyone asked, she would have a ready answer...and if everything else failed, there was the ring burning on her finger.

She paused before the door at the bottom of the stairwell. There was a room beyond this...a large one...and Lois wasn't quite sure what it was. The scan had only given her the layout of the place, not any detail. Still, there was no other way to get to where she needed to go.

Lois opened the door and stepped through.

Dark heavy curtains, bright lights. Lois recognized she was on a stage, in the wings. There was the sound of people to her left, clink of glasses, muttered talk. The door she needed was on the other side of the stage, and in the middle was...some sort of stage set. Styrofoam and plywood, like a school production. A painted backdrop of some alien palace, bits of furniture that were like something out of Buck Rogers. The only thing that Lois recognized was a set of stocks, done up in shiny chrome with weird radiating fins. Very raygun gothic.

An imposing woman suddenly grabbed Lois by the arm.

"Oh good, you're here," she hissed.

The reporter turned her head to survey the tall woman with greying hair. She looked the better side of fifty, but judging by the lines around her eyes and the wonders of the bodice she was wearing, Lois judged her to be on the better side of sixty and beneficiary of a lot of makeup and cosmetic surgery.

"The regular girl started pissing blood at the last minute. Here, let me help you with this." The cold hands came up with a black rubber ball gag. Lois, feeling this was expected of her, obediently opened her mouth and let the woman tie the other end around the back of her head.

Without ado, the matron led Lois onto the stage. The crowd was getting rowdy behind the curtain. Lois shot a glance at the door she needed at the end of the stage. She could almost sprint and make it...but that would mean breaking character.

The madam raised up the stocks. "Quickly now, in you go. We don't have much time. Curtain goes up in five."

Against her better judgment, Lois slipped her head and wrists into the stocks. They were padded, and loose enough the reporter was fairly sure she could slip out if she had to. There was a mechanical click as the latch closed. The matron disappeared from view for a moment, and Lois felt cuffs around her ankles, some sort of weight there...she tried to close her legs and felt she couldn't.

A spreader bar! The reporter noticed. There went any plan of running out on the show.

A careful finger probed at the reporter's exposed pussy.

"I'm going to apply a bit of vaseline. They need to be able to see you from the cheap seats," the older woman said. Then Lois blushed, suddenly embarrassed as she felt the glob of cool, slimy stuff pushed onto her pussy, long fingers carefully working it into her labia, and then spreading her lips apart to push it in deep. The reporter wanted to say something, but the gag prevented this.

At least I still have the ring, she thought, wrapping her left hand in a fist. I can bust out of here whenever I have to. So I'm not in any real danger.

Her pussy, she realized, was facing the stage. The old woman's fingers left her vagina. Lois turned and saw her run to the shadow of the side curtain. The lights shifted, a spotlight burning down on Lois, the rest of the stage and house going dark. The curtain began to rise, the show about to begin...and there was only one question in Lois Lane's mind.