End: Blaze Cums In Her Sleep

Maybe that was the first time in centuries Blaze had cum so hard. Or maybe it was the first time ever she had fallen asleep in a real bed, with no enemies around her. Lois Lane could only guess at home many sleepless nights the scarlet succubus had spent, mind working tirelessly at her plots, not daring to lose consciousness or awareness for an instant. Sustained only by her own magical power and a demonic nature that could go without sleep, without dreaming, for years and centuries at a time.

All Lois knew is that the demon's face was innocent as a newborn babe's as her horrifically swollen cock, trapped in the tube, dark veins running up and down its length, finally gave forth the black gold that the cum-addicted reporter craved.

With her hand buried in Blaze's ass up to the wrist, the reporter gently milked the swollen prostate gland...and Satanic spunk spurted up, like Texas tea, to fill the reservoir to overflowing.

Which is when Lois licked her lips, pulled the tube off the half-hard cock, and latched onto the swollen tip with her mouth.

It wasn't ambrosia. It was thick as treacle, deathly salty and bitter, and yet at the first taste Lois felt the hunger pangs ease. Her wrist worked in and out of that sweaty, well-lubed asshole as her tongue scooped dribble after dribble of corrupt cum out of Blaze's dick. More, perhaps, than Blaze had imagined Lois would ever taste.

Deeper and deeper the demon sank into her slumber, as her body worked to provide more jizz for Lois Lane's feast. The reporter ignored the nausea in her guts as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful of Blaze's cum. Until her stomach felt bloated and full, then painfully full.

Until Lois lay panting at the foot of the bed, one hand on her engorged stomach, the other still caught in Blaze's ass. The great crimson trouser snake lay across the demon's scarlet belly like a dead worm, the lips of the urethra pink and raw...and the demon herself had ceased to snore, almost ceased to breathe. Her small tits only rose and fell once every five minutes. The life had been sucked out of her, and she had slipped from her first peaceful slumber into some deeper realm of dream, nearer to a coma.

When dawn broke over Metropolis, the exhausted reporter pulled her hand out of Blaze's ass...and stared at it. There was an odd pinkish hue to the skin, from the wrist up. The nails were a darker shade than they had been, even though there was no paint on them. The reporter held the hand up to the light and wondered if this change was permanent...and then she looked at the demon who still slumbered.

The reporter crawled over to her laptop. Already making plans. You could buy almost anything on the internet these days. Milking machines. Vibrators specially designed to stimulate the prostate. Straps and harnesses.

The moral core of the reporter gave way before her addiction, and she rationalized that she was doing her part to incarcerate a great evil. After all, if Blaze was here, a dildo buzzing in her ass and cock being sucked of its potent spunk, she could hardly do any crimes out in the world, could she?

At least, so Lois told herself. In truth, though, she could feel the edge of that need. It would take her hours to digest the unbelievable amounts of spunk she'd swallowed. Then she would need more. This was nothing less than securing her own supply.

Blaze, utterly lost in her dreams, could not even feel it as the web of destiny wrapped itself about her. Karma had at last found a chink in her armor, and Lois Lane was its instrument. The queen of hell was to be trapped in her bedroom and milked like a cow for the rest of her unnatural life.

At least, so Lois Lane thought. So it might be, for a time. Yet the wheel turns...and who knows, in some not-too-distant day, if Lois Lane's cock milking might have repercussions she could not even imagine?

Yet that is another story.