End: Give Lois Lane A Tramp Stamp

As the drunken reporter noisily slobbered over her shaft, Blaze looked down in triumph. Lois Lane was naked, on her knees, sucking on the succubus's schlong like it was her favorite lolly, while the demon's spunk oozed out of her cunny. Her original purpose for coming here utterly forgotten, reduced by drink and lust to a depraved slut. Around them, people laughed and pointed at the lewd display.

Blaze savored that moment of triumph. She ran her hand through the reporter's hair as Loiscame up for air for a moment, and then the hungry mouth encircled her balls and began to lick the sweaty orbs, one at a time, the salty sweat running down the reporter's throat to joice the mix of beer and jism in Lois Lane's stomach.

It was everything Blaze could have hoped for from the evening. Her manipulations had been so subtle, it had only taken a gentle coaxing and the taste of some of her fluids to release the reporter's hidden inhibitions—and the long, sexless months Lois had suffered did the rest. Now here she was, debasing herself as she worshipped the demonic dickgirl's cock.

Yet it wasn't enough.

The thought simmered in Blaze's brain, even as the drunken reporter's lips began to move back up the demon's shaft. Getting the hard, throbbing pillar slick with her spit. Until Blaze pulled the reporter's hair to take those luscious lips from her cock, and stare commandingly into those violet eyes.

"Bend over the table. Ass towards me. I want to fill you with another load."

Normally, Lois Lane would have been offended, affronted...but now she giggled, and climbed to her feet with the care everyone truly shit-faced felt as the booze took away their balance. Face down she planted herself on the table, and the chatter of the bar grew as the watchers realized they were about to get another show.

Just not quite the one they expected.

Blaze's cock slid in with the ease of a well-lubed piston. Lois Lane groaned softly and excitedly as her sore cunt was stretched once again. Her saliva and what was left of Blaze's cum lubed the well-fucked hole for another rough pounding. Only as soon as Blaze was all the way in, she wiped her hand across the clear expanse of the reporter's lower back, just above the ass...and one fingernail grew suddenly sharp and black.

Lois cried out in shock as the nail pierced her skin. Beads of Blaze's own black blood oozed down into the cut, to stain the exposed layers of skin. The reporter moaned and squeezed her twat around the cock that held her in place, unable to move as Blaze left an indelible mark, carved into the reporter's own flesh. A sign that she laid claim to this pussy.

PROPERTY OF BLAZE stood out bloodily in exaggerated Gothic characters that would have graced a black metal album with pride.

The reporter trembled, in mingled pain and pleasure as the endorphins hit her. Lois Lane's knees gave out and her fingers scrabbled at the tabletop. Almost as an afterthought, Blaze felt her cock surge and spurt, another virile load of Satanic sperm straight into her fertile fuckhole.

Blaze held Lois to her, still impaled on her cock, as she backed away from the table. Lois hung from her arms, limp as a cat doesn't want to be picked up. No one dared get in Blaze's way as she hauled the naked reporter across the bar, to the small private room that contained little more than a cot barely big enough for the two of them.

Yet it would do. As the half-conscious reporter mewled and dribbled, Blaze grinned. She would make sure that Lois Lane remembered this night...and who she now belonged to...for the rest of her life.