End: Find Blaze And Fuck Her

Okay, the naked reporter thought as she made a bee-line for the bar. So. I have to slut it up. But not look like I'm slutting it up. Well, make it look like I'm slutting it up, but not down to fuck just anyone. A sure thing, but only for one particular pussy. That belongs to a demon. And hope my demonified pussy can handle it.

The reporter felt relief as she bellied up to the bar. The woman behind it was naked, but on the wrong side of sixty, grey hair tied up in a no-nonsense bun, her pierced nipples down around her navel. One glance at the reporter and Lois felt as if she had suddenly become transparent as a sheet of glass.

"Double vodka, splash of cranberry juice?" The old woman said.

"Yes, thank you," Lois said with relief. The drink was mixed in a moment, and as Lois accepted it, the woman stamped a little star on her wrist.

"First time here?" The bartender said, as she wiped the counter.

"Is it that obvious?" Lois gave a nervous smile. "I'd just...sell my soul to get a really good fuck tonight."

Lois Lane wasn't sure what made her phrase it that way. Maybe it was nervousness. Desperation. Or the odd tingle in her pussy as she sipped her drink. The bartender looked sideways, then back to the reporter.

"If you're serious, I know someone. The owner, she, ah...doesn't put out for everybody, but she likes 'em kind of ****?" the bartender met her eye. "No offense."

"None taken," Lois said, as she felt the liquor burn down her throat. She felt the beginning of a buzz, and her instincts were suddenly alive. "You say she..."

"You'll walk away bowlegged, if you can walk at all," the bartender said.

"Sounds...perfect," the reporter said. "How do I meet her?"

"Finish your drink. Head toward the bathroom. There's a door, between the women's room and men's room, unlabeled. She'll buzz you in."

In the end, it was that easy.

There was a buzz. The door knob turned under the reporter's hand. Anxious, Lois opened the door...but it was dark inside. Too dark to see. Hesitantly, she stepped inside. Felt plush carpet under her bare feet. The light from the club didn't seem to penetrate far into the gloom at all, yet the darkness seemed to hold its breath.

"Close the door behind you," a woman's voice spoke. Oddly accented. Quite, yet commanding. Lois licked her lips, shut the door. Let herself be swallowed by darkness.

"You want to sell your soul?" the woman's voice said. "For sex? For love?"

"It's not like I'm using it," Lois Lane said nervously. She stepped forward. It was colder in here than she thought. Her nipples hard. Gooseflesh rose all over her body, and Lois had to resist a shiver. The reporter closed her eyes, and couldn't see any difference at all. Total darkness, the kind that her eyes would never adjust to. Like being at the bottom of a cave...

"Now you know that isn't true, Lois," the voice said, and Lois stiffened. "Yes, I know who you are. I've been watching you. Waiting. I never imagined you would come to me this easily."

There was the whisper of a warm breeze through the room, like a giant oven opened for a moment. Like a giant sigh.

"You came here for an investigation," the unseen voice said.

"Women have gone missing," Lois admitted. She stepped backward...but in the dark, she couldn't find the door. Or any wall at all. "This club was the last place they were seen. What did you do with them, Blaze?"

The darkness held its breath...and then a soft, tinkling laughter like glass broken under velvet, emerged from every direction.

"So you learned my name! Very good, Lois. And yet you are here...naked..."

A wind blew between the reporter's legs. Hot and wet. The reporter shivered as an erotic thrill ran through her body.

"...and horny. So, I propose a deal. I will release those women you have come seeking...and I will give you pleasures such as you have never known."

Lois Lane squared her shoulders. She faced the darkness. "What's the catch?"

"You will take their place, of course! Give yourself to me, body and soul. You will be my plaything, a toy for my lusts, for all eternity."

The reporter swallowed hard. She wondered how her demonic pussy would handle that.

Actually...that gives me an idea, the reporter said.

"It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice," Lois Lane said. "But I want proof you can fulfill your promise, before we have a deal!"

"Oh?" the voice sounded as if it whispered in her ear. Lois could almost feel the demon's tongue.

"Suck my cunt," Lois Lane said. "Eat me out. I want you on your knees, licking my pussy. If you can make me cum, then we have a deal. If you can't even do that...no sale."

That tinkle of laughter again. Hands slid out of the darkness. Hot, soft, feminine. The voice, which had come from all around, now came from right in front of the reporter.

"Very well, Lois Lane. We have an agreement. I will make you cum with my mouth...and when I do, your soul is mine!" Blaze said.

Which is how Lois Lane found herself standing stock still, feet shoulder-length apart, as a hot pair of lips kissed her navel. Then sank lower, a series of kisses, each hotter than the last. Those soft hands on the reporter's hips know. The burning ecstasy as they sucked softly at her clit. The forked tongue that slid forth to push her labia apart, to gather the juices that dripped from her twat...

...and then the demonic pussy took hold.

Blaze didn't even have time to scream. Neither did Lois Lane. She had never felt a hot poker jammed up her cunny before. Yet she felt the incandescent heat as Blaze's essence was devoured by her empowered pussy. It was like being creampied by the sun, a terrible heat that threatened to cook Lois Lane from the inside out. In sudden agony, the reporter dropped to her hands and knees...and for a moment she stared at her abdomen, at the bright form that burned through the flesh.

Then the darkness around her was drawn up her cunny. The reporter gasped as her labia were being **** open; it was everything that Lois had imagined giving birth felt like, except backwards. Her muscles contracted and rippled in a steady pattern, as if her pussy gulped at the darkness—drank it—and as the shadows receded, and the light in her abdomen slowly faded, Lois Lane found herself on her knees, naked, shivering with cold, on the concrete floor of a small and empty supply closet...and still very, very horny.

The reporter closed her eyes.

"Okay, Lane," she said. "Stand up, get some interviews, get your clothes, call the cops. Go home and masturbate until your hand gets carpal tunnel. One step at a time..."

Which is how Lois Lane's night out ended, with all the information she needed for her story, with all the women who had gone missing now free and getting the help she needed. And if she did not think about her demonic pussy, or what happened to Blaze...what the effect would be, with so much infernal influence on her reproductive organs...perhaps she would find out, come morning, as she lay in her bed, a pornographic video playing on her laptop, as her favorite vibrator buzzed against her clit...and the name, she called out, in her moment of ecstasy was not of Superman or anyone else she had ever dreamed wetly of.

Yet that is a story of another day.