Blaze Wants Her Cunt

"I want to fuck you, Lois," the demon's pure white eyes stared at the soulless reporter. "It's what I've always wanted. So let me tell you how this is going to work."

The red fingers steepled as she shuffled the cards, which fluttered between them.

"Each night, beginning tonight if you wish, we will play three hands of five-card draw. No more or less. No betting or bluffing; just the best hand wins. If you win all three, your soul is returned to you. For each hand you lose, I get to fuck you. Whenever and however I wish."

The reporter frowned.

"Doesn't sound exactly fair," she said. "I could lose night after night forever and never beat you."

Blaze allowed herself a little smile.

"Those are the rules. Of course, if you don't want to get fucked, you don't have to play."

The reporter swallowed. "And what if I lose...and refuse to fuck you?"

"Then you forfeit your chance to win back your soul."

Lois Lane breathed out. It was a bad deal...no question. She started to do the math in her head. The odds of winning three hands in a row were...about the equivalent of winning three coin flips in a row. 12.5%. Except there was the small question of skill; so the odds were a little better, if Lois was a better player than Blaze; but couldn't be much less. At worst, she would probably be able to win her soul back in eight to ten days...maybe less, if she got lucky.

"Not like I have much choice, do I?" The reporter said, trying to project something of her old confidence...but it felt so hollow, like she was going through the motions.

"There's always a choice, Lois," Blaze said. "We can play tonight...or you can wait. Call my name three times, and I'll come to play."