End: Lois Lane Tells Mercy Graves To Go Fuck Herself

The answer ripped out of the reporter's throat. In no uncertain terms.

"Go whore your ass out to Lex Luthor's pathetic cock you evil pussy-biting bitch! Go gargle his watery seed and beg him to piss on your gaping asshole as you assume the position like an appropriate lickspittle! Meet me in a fair fight and I'll tear your tits off and stuff them up your diseased twat you sick, twisted cunt!"

Mercy Graves waited until the reporter had to take a breath...and then she grinned. The toe of her boot pressed forward...and Lois Lane squirmed like a cockroach pinned beneath a bayonet. The zip ties bit into her wrists and ankles...but bound as she was, Lois couldn't get away. Couldn't do anything except square and scream as Mercy slowly applied more and more **** to her right leg.

The human asshole is an amazing work of biological engineering. The end result of millions of years of evolution, the strong sphincter muscle and elastic colon can endure all manner of stretching...for passing waste and, as thousands of generations have discovered, for more erotic penetrations. Many humans had taken advantage of this, and through trial, error, and practice had managed some amazing insertions.

Except Mercy Graves was neither slow, nor gentle, nor did she use any lube. So as she **** the reporter's ass to accept the toe of her boot, Lois Lane could only glare her hate at the bodyguard, determined not to give the sadistic bitch the scream she so obviously wanted.

Graves, for her part, simply smiled. Cheeks flushed. Eyes dilated. Lois wanted to get her teeth on her jugular. It wasn't just that the woman was causing her pain, it was that Mercy was enjoying this. How her boot slid forward, a millimeter at a time. Watched the blood drain from the reporter's face, how hard her nipples were. The bulge in Lois Lane's pussy, red gore still oozing from the teeth-marks around the reporter's clit, as the toe of Mercy's boot pressed against the cunny from the inside.

Lois could feel the tread on the bottom of Mercy's boot rip into her pour, torn asshole. The leading edge of the heel of the boot pressed into the reporter's anus now, and Lois could feel the cold sweat pour down her body. If Mercy followed through on her threat to **** her entire boot into the reporter's ass, the perineum would tear...and Lois Lane's ass and pussy would be one gaping hole. Sepsis would be veritably guaranteed...provided Lois survived long enough to get to a hospital to stitch her up.

"Mercy. Enough," Lex Luthor's voice came in over the speakers. "We aren't learning anything here. You've put boot to ass. Now it's time to end this."

With a wrench that felt like it would take all of the reporter's guts with it, Mercy tore her foot out of Lois Lane's ass...and Lois, still unwilling to scream, leaned over and vomited from the pain. Mercy stood there, panting. A wet stain spreading on her crotch, a look of supreme satisfaction on the bodyguard's face. Staring down at Lois as though memorizing every detail of her ruin and degradation.

The last thing Lois heard was the click of a smartphone taking a picture.

Then darkness claimed her.

Clark Kent stood hunch-shouldered as the doctor read from his chart.

"Teeth marks on the vagina, severe lacerations to the anus, a ruptured colon, tears in the perineum...we're running a **** scan, but she came in **** and smelling of ****, and when she woke up she couldn't remember anything about the ****; it's likely she's been roofied. Miscellaneous bruises and scrapes, including on the knuckles. Definitely a sexual ****, but no signs of semen." The doctor was a very tired man with dark bags under his eyes, the stubble on his jaw a salt-and-pepper sprinkle. "We've taken her in for surgery. It's not going to be a pleasant recovery, but if we can keep infection under control, she should make it."

"Who brought her in?" Clark asked.

"Don't know. Car slid in to the emergency room exit, dumped her in a wheelchair and pushed her toward the door. They were back in the car and driving off before the attending nurse could get there. We've notified the police.." The doctor said.

The reporter looked at his companion. Bruce Wayne nodded silently. Outside, Robin and Batgirl were listening in, already checking camera angles, looking for treadmarks. The Bat Family was on the hunt.

"Anything she needs," Bruce Wayne told the doctor. "Money is no object. The best care."

He gripped Clark on the shoulder. Behind his black plastic glasses, the Man of Steel felt hollow and empty. The msot powerful man in the world...and helpless to help the woman he loved. One thing he was sure of...when he found out who did this, he would see they faced justice for their crimes. Whatever it took.

"Do you know what story she was working on?" Bruce asked, slipping into his Batman voice. "Anything that might be related?"

"Some women had gone missing at a club," Clark said. "She said she was going to go there and check it out. Made it sund like just another night out."

Bruce Wayne nodded.

"We'll find them, Clark," he promised. "She'll heal. If regular medicine doesn't work, we have other options."

Clark nodded. He was thinking the same thing. In a world of gods and demons, aliens and super-science, there was little they couldn't do...Wonder Woman's purple ray, a Kryptonian birthing matrix reconfigured as a healing device, one of Zatanna's backwards incantations...things that normal civilian **** victims never had access to.

Yet it still felt bitter in his mouth. All of his power, and the woman he loved had been tortured and assaulted...who? Why?

He sat down in the waiting room. Focused his super-hearing on the sound of her breathing, the pulse of her heart. It kept him from going over the edge...for now.