End: Lois Lane Gets Fucked

Great Caesar's ghost! How the fuck did I end up here? Lois Lane wondered.

She was on her back. Lights flashed overhead. There had been dancing. Loud music. Naked people, all around her, touching her. There had been a chalice. Warm wine had flowed down her throat, to join all the jizz she'd swallowed. Boston Brand's voice had come out of a dozen throats. Women. Familiar. Be careful. Beware. Watch out. Watch your ass. Watch.

Lois had watched. Watched the slim, delicious forms of naked women. The masked men groan and paint that flesh with their bursts of seed. Sometimes they played through the parts of the ritual, sometimes they sank to their knees, eager mouths seeking cocks, balls, cunts, assholes. Maybe that was part of the ritual too. Then the chalice came along, and Lois would drink again.

Now she was on her back. Hot hands rubbed her legs, and instinctively Lois parted them. Something hard and hot slid up against the reporter's slit. She blinked, burped, tasted sperm. Her vision swam, but she saw a horned head overhead. A feminine face. High cheek bones. An overgenerous mouth. White eyes that burned with their own internal light, without pupil or iris.

"I see you, Lois Lane," Angelica Blaze said. "And your little ghost, too."

Lois tried to say something, but only hiccuped. Her body was so hot—but not as hot as Angelica Blaze's skin. Red hands caressed the reporter's small tits. The head of the clock slid along the reporter's pussy, and hung over the reporter's crotch like a crimson pillar. Hot drops of pre-cum dripped on the reporter's pale skin and Lois gasped. It was as hot as liquid wax.

"You know, this is really all I wanted," Blaze said. "All the games, all the schemes...but at the end of the night, I just want a warm, tight cunt wrapped around my cock. I know you'll appreciate that, Lois. The truth, I mean."

Blaze dragged her burning fingers down the reporter's body. They left little red lines behind. Not hard enough to break the skin, or badly burn her, but hot enough and hard enough to leave a mark. The drunk reporter squirmed, her ass on the edge, her pussy so wet against that hard prick. It had been so long since she had been fucked...

"You want my cock, don't you Lois?" Blaze said, as around her there came the wet slap of flesh on flesh, the moans of cultists filled the VIP room. A background noise of sex. Vaguely, Lois wondered where Deadman was. What he was doing. If he was getting fucked in one of those bodies, or if he was doing the fucking. The reporter raised her head, and stared into the one-eyed snake that was so hard for her.

"Yessh," she mumbled drunkenly. "Itssh a nissh-looking cock."

"I'm glad you think so," Blaze said as she drew back her hips. Her burning hands gripped the reporter's hips tight as she guided the head of her cock to the reporter's pussy. "You have a lovely pussy. It's such a pity it's been unfucked for so long. You deserve better."

Blaze slid in...and Lois felt the heat blossom inside of her. Not just the actual temperature, but the sexual energy. Her whole body burned, nipples hard, skin blossomed with sweat. Her eyeballs burned. Her whole body felt consumed from within as Blaze began to move. The smiling red face above her changed slowly as she began to pump inside of Lois. Memories raced through the reporter's mind. Every lover she had ever had.

How many times have I been like this? On my back, a cock pumping into me, Lois Lane wondered as her breath came in hot gasps. It felt like when she was in ****'s Valley. The unbelievable heat. Cooking from the inside out. Blaze stared down at her, the eyes brighter and brighter as she moved, faster and faster.

The image of that face burned itself into Lois Lane's mind. She couldn't even understand it at first...until her memories began to shift. All those faces. All the men who had fucked her in this position. She could no longer remember what they looked like. Only Blaze. Only her face. Only her cock. The demon's mouth twisted into a grin, her red tongue slid out to caress the reporter's dry lips.

"Me. It will always be me," Blaze whispered. "My face. My cock. Your cunt. Always. You won't be able to think of yourself without thinking of me. I'm not just fucking your Lois. I'm always going to have fucked you."

It was too much. A pressure built up inside of Lois. A point of white-hot heat that passed the threshold from pleasure to pain. Her body spasmed, cunt squeezed instinctively on that crimson cock, silver stars burst in front of her eyes as an electric wave raced through her body, every muscle contracted at once.

Lois Lane came on Blaze's cock. And in that moment, she had always cum on that cock. There was no time Lois had not cum on that cock. Every orgasm she had ever known was tainted with the smiling image of Blaze's face, the feel of that burning shaft like a white-hot poker up inside her cunt, searing a brand onto her womb with her jizz.

Hot lips pressed against Lois Lane's lips. Almost as an afterthought, Blaze shoved a pillow under the reporter's ass, to keep that jizz deep inside of the reporter's cunny. Small streams of smoke rose from the pussy, which quivered in the afterglow.

"Call my name three times," Blaze whispered. "The next time you want to make some memories."

Lois Lane couldn't remember exactly how she got dressed again. She remembered four women carrying her out of there. Recognized the missing women. Boston Brand spoke to her, sometimes in her head, sometimes out of someone else's mouth. Told her that they'd won, that the demon had left after he'd done...something. Lois hadn't bothered to correct him. Cum like hot wax ran down her thighs. In her mind, she remembered her first blowjob. It was Blaze, in a car at the high school prom. The party at university when she'd had a drunk fuck with two fratboys, and Blaze had been both of them. She licked her lips, and tasted Blaze's mouth still.

There would be sleep. Interviews. A column to write. Yet Lois wondered what would happened, when she was all alone. Washing the sex from her body. A hand down between her legs. That sticky aftermath. Her supersensitive pussy. Still warm from Blaze's touch. What would happen if Lois buried her fingers inside of her. What that cum would taste like. What would happen if she moaned her demon lover's name. Would Blaze come? Did she want her too?

Questions for another time. Yet Lois Lane was curious to find the answers.