End: Puppy Pounds His New Bitch All Night

It takes time to recover from being tazed. Yet time, for Lois Lane, had run out. Her muscles were still twitched as big hands turned her over, mashing her face into the door. She stared out at the old Black woman who sat on a couch, rubbing her grizzled grey pussy lips as Puppy found his toy, the big Black prick poking around until it found entrance. She still hadn't recovered when he dove into her, hard and fast, despite the fact that she wasn't wet enough yet...driving her face into the bars of the cage.

That set the tone, really.

Puppy was too big, too strong. His big Black cock was relentless. She could smell him as he worked up a sweat. Hear his muffled pants, like a dog humping a favorite pillow. Feel his slobber spray the back of her neck. Even when the reporter's strength came back, there was no room to fight, to twist away from him. Just that pounding prick slamming into her hard and deep.

He didn't even stop when he came.

Lois could smell it, as the pent-up jizz was churned into a white froth in her cunny. Her hands gripped the bars of the cage as the pounding continued, the cock softening only a little, the tireless beast of a man continuing to push his thick rope in and out of her sore slot until he began to stiffen again...and the old Black woman cackled like mad, fingers peeling the lips of her ancient pussy, rubbing away as she saw Puppy bury his bone in Lois Lane over and over, working himself up hard again, those balls slapped against the reporter's labia in a steady rhythm.

"Been a long time since Puppy had any company," the woman said, shaking her grey locks. "Ain't no use screamin' or carryin' on...you'll just excite 'im. Then he might hurt ye. No, little bitch, best t'ing for ye is ta just let 'im finish."

Bitterly, Lois Lane bit back her retort. Her pussy ached, and she could feel Puppy's hot filth drip onto the newspaper beneath them, her knees and elbows rubbing against the paper-clad tray. The reporter noticed that the old woman kept another taser close by her side...and remonstrated herself for getting into this situation. For listening to that little voice in her head, that had now gone silent. It wasn't just that she was getting **** to hell and gone, that Puppy was cumming in her without protection, that she'd been abstinent so long that she was off of birth control...it was the fact that she, an intelligent woman, had let her sexual curiosity overwhelm her common sense.

Now she was fucked, in every sense of the word.

They settled into a rhythm. Puppy's stamina wasn't endless, but his refractory period grew longer after each ejaculation. For long periods of the time, Lois Lane could do nothing but shift underneath him, trying to find a more comfortable position underneath him. Her pussy stretched against the constant pounding prick, sloppy and spilling over with jizz...and Lois found herself flushed and panting, damp with sweat, her own body pushing back against him, cunt clenching his cock tight as another burst of sperm splattered against her cervix...only to immediately feel the flush of shame at her own actions.

The third time that happened, Lois noticed that the old woman was nodding off. Panting and thirsty, the reporter's fingers crept up the cage door, toward the lock. It was a standard dog cage, but there was a padlock on it. The old woman's hand had ceased to rub her grungy labia, the old woman's breathing deepened and slowed...and as Puppy panted and pumped her aching fuckhole, Lois Lane reached up and pulled a hairpin from her raven locks.

In the circumstances, it took her ten minutes to pick the lock. By then, Puppy was almost dead weight on top of her. She couldn't remember if this was his seventh or ninth creampie of the night, but Lois Lane's cunt felt like a raw wound as his great black python slid out of her worn cunny. He lay panting against her back as the door of the cage swung open, and Lois crawled out beneath him, rivulets of spunk rolling down her thighs, cramps hitting her as she stood up on shaky legs.

She left the door open, and took the taser, and the car keys. Her clothes were still in the cab.

Dawn saw Lois Lane limping away from the house. The car keys went in the nearest open sewer, the door was locked. A part of her hoped that Puppy would **** her to ****, when she work up...but the reporter didn't think that would happen. One hand went to her stomach, remembering the sensation of that thick cock stirring up her insides, battering her relentlessly. She needed a shower, an ice pack on her pussy, sleep...

...and not once did she think of Plan B. Never imagined that the little voice in her head that had pushed some thoughts could quiet others. The demon Blaze rode Lois Lane, an invisible presence, gently guiding the reporter toward self-care but not letting her think too hard of the future, or the possible consequences.

The demon wanted to make sure Lois Lane carried a little souvenir from her night out...and wondered what Superman would think when his girlfriend's waist began to thicken, and strange cravings hit her, an odd sickness that struck anytime during the day, and finally the other shoe would drop and the Daily Planet's Greatest reporter would have to come face-to-face with the Black baby growing in her womb.