Draw A Bloody Pentagram On Lois Lane's Abdomen

Angelica Blaze brought her thumb up to her mouth...and Lois Lane winced as the sharp teeth bit down hard onto the fleshy pad. The dickgirl brought her wounded hand over to the reporter's flat stomach. The hand arched like a claw...and then pressed down, suddenly, hard. Lois yelped as five points of pain blossomed on her abdomen...and when Blaze lifted her hand, the reporter saw five tiny beads of blood, equally spaced out beneath her navel.

Using her thumb, Angelica drew a bloody pentagram on the reporter's stomach. Her voice hissed words in a language Lois didn't know...the soft sibilants seemed to pulse in the reporter's ears. The dickgirl wielded her bloody thumb with the skill of a calligrapher, and in less than a minute the reporter stared at a work that could have been painted in red ink...but it was blood...her blood, mingled with Blaze's.

"...more alike, blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, soul of my soul, by our mingled essence I beseech thee to grant this gift, this power, this strength..."

The words were not English, yet Lois understood them. She wasn't sure how that was possible...and perhaps it was the reporter's imagine that she felt little phantom pains down beneath her flesh, a tiny cramp that reminded her of early period pains. Yet when she tried to focus on the sensation it faded away. The reporter found that she held her breath as Blaze moved around her, to draw the reporter's legs apart. The dark eyes flashed and Lois got an idea of what was to happen...

The dickgirl's thumbs pulled the reporter's cum-spattered labia apart. The incantation had reduced to a whisper that Lois Lane had to strain to hear, Angelica's eyes now focused on the reporter's erect little clit, the warm wind of her breath stirred the inner folds of Lois' pussy...and the reporter closed her eyes and sighed as those lips touched her inner pink folds, and that long, hot tongue squirmed into her jizz-soaked channel.

Yet there was something about the movement of that tongue...it wasn't just making love. The reporter's heart beat in the rhythm of that chant, her breath came in gasps that followed the words of the incantation, the tongue moved as if drawing a pentagram in her pussy...and then it stabbed deeper, deeper than it should have been able to, and a terrible heat began to fill the reporter's body. The five small wounds at the points of the pentagram began to bleed, but the blood circled inwards, untils he stared at a vortex, a whirlpool of blood right above her womb...and something inside her flesh began to glow, like a flashlight pressed against a palm...and the hair raised all over Lois Lane's body. She smelled ozone, tasted copper in her mouth. Blaze's lips moved up to suck on her hard clit, and the reporter nearly came, right then..

...but there was one more part of the ritual.