End: Lois Gives Up Her Mouth

"My mouth," Lois said. Her heart thundered. "I want to taste it."

A wicked gleam shone in Blaze's pure white eyes. "Are you sure? No other cock will ever grace that hole, no other semen shall pass through those lips. You will swallow my seed or none at all."

The voice dropped down into a whisper. "And you will swallow my seed, Lois Lane. Regularly, and enthusiastically. Indeed, you will not be able to live without it. Though you stuff your gob, you will starve without my sperm. Hear me and know this to be true—do you still desire to give up your mouth to me?"

The words seemed to pound through the reporter's brain—and she did understand, with a startling clarity, that what the demon said was true. Whether it was some sort of curse or pact that bound them, Lois didn't know, but she did know that if she gave in to Blaze on this, then no matter what else happened—she would not be able to suck any other cock, and she would always need to suck Blaze's and none other.

The ramifications washed through Lois—but what choice did she have? If she gave up her pussy or ass, she gave up any hope of a regular sexual life or marriage. If she agreed to give up her mouth, then even if she did later marry, she would have to cheat on him continually just to suck down that life-giving splooge.

I guess I'll just have to live with that, the reporter decided.

"Yes, I do."

Blaze laughed. She pulled out of Lois and stood back. Instinctively, the reporter fell onto her knees, trying to ignore the aching emptiness in her cunt.

"Then come, my little oral whore," the demonic dickgirl said triumphantly. "Suck out your first feast!"

A part of Lois Lane wondered if—maybe it would be different. If she would like giving head more. If the cum would taste better. She had performed oral sex on enough boyfriends to know that the enthusiastic, half-orgasmic slurpfest of pornography was just an act put on by the actors and actresses. That in reality cocks were often smell, and tasted of skin and sweat, and often stank of piss and smegma. Cum was salty, bitter, and warm; as fun to swallow as tart snot.

Worse, the reporter swore the crimson cock in front of her was bigger. The balls seemed to hand lower, dangling against the demon's thighs. The head was red as a strawberry, the great crest of the helmet impossibly wide. It wasn't quite as thick as a can of Coca-Cola, though, and Lois thought that if she opened wide enough she could get it all past her lips...

And like that, she was trying to do just that. Her tongue was sliding along the slimy bottom of the glans, her front lip curled around her teeth as she struggled to get her mouth around the head of the swollen dick. Something patted her hair, and from above Lois heard the scarlet succubus say:

"Do you desire my...help?"

Lois raised her right arm, hands in a fist, thumb sticking up toward the ceiling. The demon's hands tightened on the reporter's scalp...and suddenly the reporter could feel the her face being **** forward, and all her mouth was filled with that dick, and it was everything that Lois Lane had ever known but moreso...it was like stench of that unwashed cock was penetrating her brain, until she couldn't smell or think of anything else, and as it hit the back of her throat the demon gave a little sigh.

And began to piss.

It had to be piss. Lois couldn't believe that any living being could cum so much. It was a single liquid stream that burst down her esophagus straight to her stomach, and the reporter swore she could hear a gurgle deep within as it began to fill her up.

It seemed to go on forever, though Lois knew it couldn't be much more than a minute...yet she felt a tingle running through her whole body, a heat radiating out from where that demonic piss or cum or whatever it was that Blaze was defiling her body with, she swore that she could feel it moving through her veins, pumped further and further through her with every beat of her heart.

When Blaze was almost finished, she pulled the reporter's head back so that only the tip of her dick was in the reporter's mouth. Something hot and bitter oozed onto Lois Lane's tongue, the flavor engraving itself in her brain. It was too thick to be piss, but bitter as the devil's own gall. Blaze smiled down at the pair of bright violet eyes that stared up at her.

"Say my name three times," Blaze said. "And I will come to feed you your fill. And if you should ever desire more..."

The demon laughed and faded. Her whole body slid out of view, leaving Lois Lane on the floor, naked, her stomach so full she felt like she might retch.

Her knees hurt. Her breath stank. Through **** of will alone, Lois closed her mouth and swallowed the last, nasty load that Blaze had left on her tongue.

There was the sound of the door. Lois heard the confused voices of women. Four women. The reporter knew, somehow, that these were the women who had gone missing at the club. A parting gift to Lois—or perhaps a taunt.

The reporter stretched forward to gather up her clothes. Her asshole clenched and unclenched, achingly empty. So that was something she would have to get used to too. But Lois had no time to think about stuffing her ass now. There were things left to do. Interviews, a column to write, a long way back to her apartment where a bath and a bottle of mouthwash would dispose of the physical evidence of the evening.

Yet Lois Lane knew that the decisions she had made during her night out would haunt her for a long, long time to come.