End: I Can't, Sweetmeat

Something trickled down Blaze's face, glowing red-hot drops that burned across her cheeks like fallen stars...and in shock, Lois Lane realized the demon was crying.

"I'm sorry," Blaze said...and something burst inside the reporter's brain, like the crash of seven thunders...as the demon's claws closed about Lois Lane's head.

Lois Lane awoke like a cat. No half-awake period. One moment she was asleep, and the next she was fully aware, every sense sharp before she even opened her eyes.

Something was off, though the reporter did not know immediately what. She lay there for a moment, eyes closed, to give no evidence of wakefulness. She could hear nothing except her own breathing and the distant sounds of traffic; the air was still, there were no strange smells. Tentatively she opened her eyes...and saw above her the familiar ceiling of her own bedroom.

The reporter sat up. She was naked. The clothes for the club were laid out, as though she had never dressed. As though she had never left. Yet she couldn't remember laying down to sleep...

That sense of offness hit the reporter again. Lois frowned, not sure where it came from. Her stomach growled a little, and she was a bit hungry...but also not in the mood to eat anything. Her fingers went between her legs, on a sudden dark suspicion...but no, her cunny was dry, and not sore or swollen at all.

Yet it felt like...it almost felt like that one time the condom had broken, and Lois could feel that last bit of jizz deep inside of her, deeper than she could dig it out with her fingers. The reporter frowned at the memory, and at the hole in the night's memories. She tried to probe around the gap, but it was like hitting a brick wall. Every time she tried to think back beyond the point of sleep, she skipped straight to when she was getting ready. Hours of her life lost, and the odd queasiness in her gut increased as she tried to make sense of it.

She was still trying to piece together what had happened when her phone rang. Lois picked it up, and listened to the squawk of Sgt. Mahoney down at Metropolis 13th precinct, four women had been found in a human trafficking sting that matched the missing women Lois had been asking about...

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Lois promised as she sprung into action, dressing hastily, tamping down that strange queasiness or offness or whatever it was that nagged at the back of her brain.

In her palace in Hell, Blaze sighed as she saw Lois rush out of her apartment.

"It was the wise choice," a tired voice spoke.

The demon turned, black sparks crackled in her eyes...but paused as she saw the translucent shade of an old, bearded man in a blue robe stood behind her.

"Wizard," Blaze growled. "This is none of your concern."

He gave a sad smile.

"You have sacrificed much for love, daughter," he said. "You will have my aid...when you need it."

Blaze swore...and the word became a black shadow that passed through the translucent figure, which dimmed visibly and began to fade. The demon waited until he was gone...and waited several more minutes, as though waiting for him to return. Then she turned back to the mirror.

Lois was in a cab, on the hunt. The memory of her stirred Blaze to tumescence.

"I don't need your help, old man," Blaze growled to herself as her mystic mirror followed Lois Lane, the demon's hard cock tenting her loincloth. "I don't need anyone."

Even to the scarlet succubus, her words rang hollow.