Chapter 17 by Zeebop

How Long Does The Last?

Until Lois Is Ready To Beg For It

"Humans are amazingly adaptable," Circe said, as she drew the needle on the reporter's naked head, ink spreading into the skin. "A wolf in a trap will go mad, and gnaw its own paw off to be free. The lion in the cage will claw at the bars, and then wait and wait, until the fire in its eyes dies. But women..."

Lois Lane's fingers bit into the arms of the chair. The wooden pole pressed against her asshole, and had it simply stayed there, she could have...gotten used to it. Like how a bra might irritate when you first put it on, but then you get used to it and forget about it. This pole though...it was growing. Teasing. Always moving, always dragging against her butt, now pressing, now retreating.

"...oh, I have known and loved women in my time, Lois Lane. All women have their beauty, no matter how thin or fat, tall or short. And never, ever, are they more beautiful than when they are in adversity. I have dripped hot wax on dark thighs, and plucked out dark curly hairs one by one from the mons of Nubian princesses; I teased the feet of one young woman until she cried through her laughter, and one old matron, mother of ten children, learned the pleasures of my hand on her ass and cunt..."

The scratch of the needle against her scalp was sharp and painful, like a bee-sting over and over, but the tickling of her asshole was irritating beyond measure. A growing part of her wished it would simply penetrate her. Being fucked in the ass could not possibly be so bad as the anticipation of such a violation. Many women had been fucked in the ass, and moaned like whores. They enjoyed it. Lois doubted that she would...but better to be fucked than this constant, endless teasing.

"There is always that moment," Circe said. "The moment that I live for. When pain and embarrassment transform into something else. Magic cannot accomplish that alchemy, when a woman writhes in agony that mingles with ecstasy, when the jaded eyes light up at a new and unfamiliar sensation. Ah, women are not half so beautiful as when you help them become something more than they were..."

"Please," Lois begged. "My ass..."

"Speak up, my dear," Circe said, a confident expectation in her voice. "Tell me what you want."