End: A Hose

The round, plastic tube slid into her mouth—and Lois Lane was too far gone in an ecstatic haze to resist as it pressed against her esophagus. Angelica Blaze's hands massaged her throat, coaxing the tube down past the reporter's gag reflex. Lois Lane's violet eyes sought the other end of the hose...and she saw a naked woman holding what appeared to be a gallon jug of milk to a funnel.

Except it wasn't milk. It was too thick, grey, slimy...and someone had written XXX on the side of the re-purposed jug.

Soft female hands grabbed the reporter's arms and legs, holding her in place.

"The ghost, Deadman, sent you here didn't he?" Blaze said gently. "Did he warn you of what would happen if you drank too much of my cum? If you came too much while my power was inside of you? Did he tell you of how my power would hollow you out from the inside, reducing you from a strong, intelligent woman to a brainless fuckpuppet?"

Her Mona Lisa smile seemed almost sad for a moment, but with the tube down her throat, Lois Lane couldn't answer. The jug was tipped, and the grey-white goo slid down the tube.

"No doubt you want to know why I'm accumulating all this power, what I intend to do with it...and the truth is very simple: I want a harem of lovely women to sate my whims and serve my ends. I'm a demon, I live to corrupt the clean, the virtuous. I love to see women become bitches...and oh, Lois Lane, I have really loved to see my power work at you from within, pushing your limits, making you experience things you would never have countenanced before your night out."

The warm mass of the cum hit the reporter's throat. Lois braced herself, knowing momentarily that the deluge of demonic spunk would hit her stomach, and not sure what would happen.

Blaze ran her fingers through the reporter's dark hair.

"Your disappearance will be noticed. I have no doubt Deadman is already off trying to find new allies. When they find you, you will be naked, tied to a cross, a vibrator taped to your cunt, a stomach bloated with my spunk, ass stretched open, gagged, whipped within an inch of your life...and begging for more."

The sad smile parted a little, showing sharp, white teeth.

"Even if they manage to heal you, the stain on your soul will remain. You will never be able to escape what you did here tonight...and a part of you will always want to experience it again. It will poison your every relationship. Even the Kryptonian will be unable to satisfy you. He's too pure, too innocent to spank your ass or bite your tits, much less whip you bloody..."

The warm goo spread to the reporter's stomach. She shivered as a strange sensual heat washed over her...and in that moment she wanted, really wanted, what Blaze had described. Needed to be defiled, whipped, beaten, fucked like a slut, a whore, a common slag....her pleading eyes met those of the demon...and Blaze bent down and pressed a burning kiss against the reporter's forehead...

...and fulfilled that wish.

Come the dawn, the Justice League would find Lois Lane in Blaze's lowest dungeon. The pale, lovely form was striped from whip and flail, dark blue bruises covered her buttocks, breasts and cunt, the knees quaked and shook, and she hung limp on the cross, wrists and ankles red and bloody with rope burn.

Superman pulled the gag from her mouth...and for his trouble, the arc of cum that vomited out of the reporter's distended stomach splashed his red boots. Yet the most terrible thing of it all was the strange, terrible half-smile on Lois Lane's face...as if she knew something that he didn't...

Lois Lane's night out was over, but the shadow of that night would hang over her life for many nights to come.