Blaze's Boudoir

The doors swished open. A warm puff of air washed over Lois Lane, laden with scents of exotic spices, earthy and unfamiliar. The reporter stared in a single large, red chamber decorated with hanging silks in a thousand crimson shades, dominated by a single round bed laden with pillows...and a single slumbering figure.

Her skin was crimson, flesh lean, with the small, tight breasts and muscles thighs of a marathoner. Black horns curled back from her head, the slightly parted lips showed the tips of pointed fangs. An expanse of curly black hair surrounded her head, shocking against the red silk sheets. Almost instinctively, Lois checked to see if the carpet matched the drapes...only to find there was no carpet, the demon's pubis smooth and hairless, the slit a darker line against her crotch.

Clutched in one claw was the gem.

It was about six inches long and one and a half thick, rounded at one end and bulging out to an irregular crystalline base at the other. Dark as a ruby, but smooth as amber, more than vaguely phallic in shape, and it glowed from within, pulsing gently as though to mimic the beat of a heart.

Trying not to breathe, the reporter tip-toed around the bed, angling herself as close as she could. Through the hanging silks she saw dark, empty doorways...closets full of clothes and sex toys, a bathroom, some kind of a library...but her eyes remained focused on the sleeping beauty before her. If she could just get the gem without waking her...

Lois crawled onto the bed. Watched the breasts rise and fall, surprised at how pink the nipples were. This close she could see the fine lines of faded scars that criss-crossed the body. The eyes were simply dark shadows, too black to make out the lids, like the sockets of a corpse. But she breathed, lost in some deep, dark dream...

How many women have been violated on this bed? The reporter wondered. This close she could smell the reek of old sex, unwashed sheets stiff in places where bodily fluids had spilled and dried. She could feel her body react to it, nipples poking out against her shirt, but she had no time for that. The reporter was laser-focused on getting what she came here for, the strange artifact she was sure was the heart of it all.

Yet the closer she got, the harder it was to deny the terrible itch between her legs, pussy feeling neglected. The more those soft lips looked so kissable, the tiny tits perfect in their own way, the hairless pussy...Lois had never been a true lesbian, but she could appreciate the female form, and a part of her doubted this demon needed many wiles to get women into her bed. Lois had to swallow heavily, aware that she was starting to drool.

Slowly, carefully, wincing internally at every rustle of silk and groan of springs, the reporter stretched herself out, a little farther. Her eye was on the prize, and she was glad now she had forgotten her pants, one less thing to catch on the sheets, to make noise.

Her hand slid over the tip of the glowing gem.