Ella Stays

Trapped within her body, Lois Lane felt herself tense...leaning toward the door, as though she were about to bolt out of the club, out into the night...but then she felt her shoulders slump, her breath sigh, and she leaned back against the hard, lanky body of Blaze.

"It's not so bad, pet," the demon said as she guided Lois Lane's body through a door, and then down a hallway, and then through another door...into a kind of boudoir of shabby gentility. Faded carpet, once a rich navy blue. Scuffed oak panels. A black leather couch with split seams. One wall was taken up by long bar covered with half-empty bottles, cobwebs, dirty glassware. A four-poster bed occupied the opposite end. There was another doorway, sans door, which led to a bathroom.

"Did you even tell your daughter that this wasn't your first effort to escape?" Blaze asked as she sought among the glassware for a pair of clean glasses.

"No," Lois heard her own voice, and the edge in it. The reporter felt her mother sit on the couch, sinking into it, the springs shot. There was a resignation to the voice. A tenseness in the reporter's neck.

Blaze returned with two mismatched glasses. They were filled with liquor, though what, exactly, Lois wasn't sure of. Her mother took it and swallowed half of it without bothering to taste it. The liquor burned on its way down...gin and tequila, maybe. A harsh combination.

"Your mother," Blaze said, sipping her own concoction. "Feared damnation. Still does. And she craves dick. She's a true slut. But the world is a harsh place for a ghost. She cannot hold a body forever...and there are repercussions, when she tries to hold onto one for too long."

"It was just going to be for a night. Lois let me in. I wasn't...going to try and hold on. Not like the others," Ella Lane said, speaking through her daughter.

"The last four went mad. They question their own identities. Touched by your nymphomania. They seek solace in **** and sex. They will be dead within a year, without help." Blaze said and sipped her drink...and then she spread her legs.

Her pants vanished. The woman didn't take them off, they didn't split and fall off. Just one moment they were there, and the next moment she was bottomless...and nestled between her legs was a cock, which even soft was bigger than most that Lois had seen. She was sure that at full staff it would be a monster...nine, maybe ten inches long.

Lois felt the glass come back to her lips. Mixed liquor poured down her throat, burning like acid, hitting her stomach hard. A brazen warmth seemed to fill the reporter's whole body, but Lois felt her gaze drawn back to that cock. It was like her mother could think of little else.

"I want to be alive again," the reporter's voice said, sulkily. "Feel warm flesh between my legs. Taste cum."

"At what cost?" Blaze said. "Your daughter's sanity? Her health? Her soul?"

The dickgirl leaned back. One hand grabbed her cock. She squeezed the thick, soft piece of flesh and waggled it toward Lois.

"All you need to do is sacrifice your daughter to me, and our deal will be complete."