End: Lois Is Lightly Concussed By The Slap Of Blaze's Balls Against Her Face

The demon's hands held Lois Lane's arms, pinning her to the bed. The cock, so much bigger and harder than before, seemed to stretch the reporter's throat and tickle her stomach. The raven-dark hair spilled over the edge of the bed, hanging like a curtain toward the floor as Blaze shifted her hips, her hot testes rubbing against the reporter's eyes.

All I can smell is her taint, Lois thought. All I can taste is her cock. The heat of her prick is like a pillar of fire in my throat. I wonder if this is how a condom feels, before it's filled.

The reporter's stomach growled, her tongue flapped uselessly on the prick.

Blaze drew back. The reporter convulsed, the motion triggering a sudden reflex to vomit—but then the demon pushed forward, the reporter's throat distending slightly, the balls slamming hard into her face—pushing the rising bile back down and leaving Lois momentarily dazed and confused.

The reporter was still cross-eyed, face sore, when Blaze drew back and did it again.

And again.

Again.

Lois Lane lay limp as her face was fucked, the demon finding her groove now, the slick throat opened wide and taking all of her crimson cockmeat. The balls banged and bashed against the reporter's head, and if Lois lost a few brain cells from the repeated impact, she was unable to so much as raise a complaint. The demon fucked her mouth as if she owned it, as if Lois was little more than a slit cut in a piece of meat for the demon to wiggle her cock in, and she thrust her hips forward as if drilling for oil, entirely concerned with her own pleasure, using Lois as little more than a sex toy to satisfy her needs.

If Lois could think straight for even a second, she would have felt her body spasm, black jizz squirting out of her body as her cunt clenched harder than it ever had, back arching, bedsheets clenched type in her fists, toes curling.

It was the first time Lois had cum from sucking a cock.

Yet if Blaze meant to take her time, the sudden contraction of the reporter's throat, the teeth clamping on her cock, short-circuited her expectations. Buried hilt-deep in the reporter's throat, the demon gave a surprised grunt as her balls lifted, squeezed...and something like boiling molasses poured into Lois Lane's stomach.

The reporter's eyes rolled up into the back of her head, the addiction firing every dopamine receptor in her brain at once as the biological needs were fulfilled...and probably the reporter's daily dose of protein as well.

As Lois Lane went limp again, the jaw unclenched, and Blaze drew her prick out of the reporter's body. There were teeth marks on the shaft...but already, the scarlet flesh of the demon was healing. She left the head inside and massaged her softening prick, squeezing out the last few drops to coat the reporter's tongue and the roof of her mouth.

"Just think," Blaze murmured to the reporter, who was too concussed to respond. "All you have to do is suck out a daily dose until your milk comes in. Forty or so weeks...maybe a little less. I hope you enjoyed your night out, Lois!"

Lois Lane coughed, sputtered...and swallowed the last mouthful of black jizz. Her body felt sore, throat ached, pussy a sticky mess. Her head swam, ached...and that was how Blaze left her, to heal and recover, to wait for the hunger to take her and take the respectable and intelligent Lois Lane and reduce her once more to a cock-addicted slut.

The demon allowed her smile to grow a little wider. She loved it when a plan came together.