Actions Speak Louder Than Words

There were no words, only the sound of ripping cloth as Blaze's erection burst through her clothes.

The demon moved on Lois like a tiger moving in for the kill. All speed and savage grace, clothes ripping at the scenes, hands became claws, tearing away the flimsy clothes that separated the predator from its prey. The human woman felt herself seized and tossed almost roughly to the floor, on her knees, ass in the air...then the raven-haired reporter looked back at Blaze and smiled, wagging her derriere.

No foreplay this time, no hesitation as the cock pushed into Lois' soft folds. She was slick and ready for it, gasped and grabbed handfuls of the carpet as demon's dick pushed deep, fast and hard. Lois bit her lip and leaned into it, pushing back as best she could, squeezing her cunt about the invader...and it wasn't enough. The **** of every hip-thrust sent the heavy balls smashing into her pudenda like a painful spank; her knees were slammed forward, sliding on the carpet, the skin burning in protest.

With a half-dozen slam-fucks, Lois found herself pressed up against the desk, her breasts flush against the wood, bracing herself as the demon grabbed her hips and, squatting astride the prostrate reporter, began to speed up her thrusts. Dark flashes burst behind Lois' eyes as Blaze showed the reporter some of her true strength, the reporter little more than a fucktoy in her hands, a glorified living onahole in which to dump her dark seed.

Lois didn't cum. She rarely did, from just a pounding. But she gasped and moaned, screamed and shook. It was good...it was perfect. For her entire life, she had been the good girl, the strong, independent woman...and yet a part of her had always wanted to be treated like a bitch, a cunt, a ragdoll to be fucked and discarded. To give herself over entirely to someone that would give her the hard dicking she so desperately deserved.

She had tried, with some of her other lovers. To ease them into it. That it was okay to spank her, scratch her, bite her a little. To twist her nipples and rake her body with their nails. Lois had always wanted to be able to admire herself in the mirror afterward, the dark bruises and scratches, to see the physical evidence of their need for her.

This time, she knew, she would get that.

And when Blaze growled, deep down in her throat. When the claws grasped Lois's breasts like they were going to tear her tits off. When she felt the edge of those teeth clasp where her shoulder met her neck, like a lion claiming its mate... Something happened to Lois that she had never experienced in her life.

They came together. The very moment that Blaze erupted inside of Lois, the reporter felt her own cunt spasm and clamp down, an electric chain-reaction seizing the muscles in her back, toes curling, a howling scream roaring out of her own throat. She felt the hot black liquid fuck running down her thighs, which shook and quivered uncontrollably, and Lois Lane, for whom there was always something to say, was for once lost for words.

But as the bliss faded, Lois' mind quickly turned to a new concern.