End: The Tattoos Cover Lois Lane's Entire Body

Copper in her mouth. The hot, wet splash across her face, her breasts. The demon's screech in her ears, that descended into a clap of thunder that threw Lois Lane backward, head over heels. Shouts of excitement, smells of wet fear, the pound of feet on concrete as Blaze's goons ran away, unprepared to deal with the reporter without their mistress.

There was a hot lump in Lois Lane's throat. Something told her not to swallow. She did anyway. Felt the mass wriggle down her throat. As her heart raced, Lois Lane bared blood-stained teeth. It had felt good, in that moment, to hear Blaze scream. To make the devil herself bleed.

Then the needles came.

The reporter spasmed. It was different than before. Not just one little beesting, one invisible point drawn through her skin. Her chest felt like it was on fire, and the needles, there had to be dozens of them. Each scribbled out from the edges at once. As if a hundred tattooists crowded around to carve their masterpiece into her skin.

With Blaze's blood for ink, the infinitely fine needles drew little whirls in black and red in Lois Lane's nipples. Vinework mingled with Celtic knotwork across her ribs. Mayan-inspired figures inked across her crotch, the sensitive labia the focus of a hellish mouth with burning eyes. Lewd incantations crawled up the reporter's throat, and over the edge of her jaw. Lois screamed as the needles painted a lurid mask of obscenities on her face. Over her lips. Across her eyelids. Her scalp.

Unable to stop the terrible ordeal, Lois Lane could only thrash, and tear at her clothes. She could not see the momentous backpiece that was inked over her spine. The hermaphrodite Baphomet, surrounded by a ring of coupling demons. A sorcerer's treasury of dark incantations in runes and letters spiraled down her arms and legs. Across her ears and beneath the hair on her scalp.

Down the crack of her ass crept a black tangle of words. Around the ring of her asshole, a terrible and forbidden True Name. The palms of her hands the soles of her feet were last, and the naked reporter balanced herself on her elbows and knees, unnaturally bent in on herself as the last few details were scribbled in on the few specks of bare skin left.

Until at last, an inky blackness flooded the white of Lois Lane's eyes...and Lois was left with the sensation of having been peeled open. Her whole body felt raw, and exposed. Yet already, the tattoos began to heal...and then Lois felt the rush of dopamine. The body's natural reaction to pain. The high that drew many tattoo and piercing aficionados back, again and again.

There was nothing in Lois Lane's life to compare with that experience. Her spirit seemed to fly out of her body, yet she was tethered there as the supreme sensitivity of her skin made every small movement an exquisite agony that made her tattooed lips gasp with both pain and pleasure. Dark secrets seemed to whisper in her brain, and in her mind Lois wondered if it wasn't her skin that whispered them to her.

In time, Lois Lane came down. She drew in ragged breaths, pulled her clothes back around her body. Not that she could hide everything. Lois knew every square centimeter of exposed skin was inked, her body the canvas for an exquisitely detailed portrait of pain, pleasure, and necromantic knowledge. Dizzy, Lois stumbled back the way she had come. Up to the club. Out onto the street. Toward her apartment. Home.

Able to see in the eyes of each passer-by the flicker of confusion, recognition, interest, disgust, lust, distrust. There was no hiding herself from their gaze, because INSERT COCK HERE was written across her upper lip, WHORE AND PROUD OF IT wrapped across the bridge of her nose, an elaborate gothic SLUT stretched from chin to forehead and encompassed her entire face...and there were worse things written down her neck, over her hands.

Truly, she had become the Tattooed Woman...though Lois Lane did not know then what power her tattoos held, or the extent to which Blaze's curse had become a part of her soul. That is another story.