End: There's A New Human Trafficker In Town Called Blaze

"It's no secret that a certain amount of human trafficking occurs in Metropolis," Guido said, his body language much less tense now that Jimmy was under the table, the ginger's chin ticking the mobster's balls. "Rich people want a live-in maid, no passport; some of the factories near the docks get workers fresh off the boat that need to pay for their passage; brothels have a certain amount of turnover and need new talent...this is all established business, right? Supply and demand."

Lois Lane nodded, even as she felt her gorge rise. This smarmy asshole was talking about human beings the way some people talked about pigs and cattle.

"But most of these people, they understand the basic rule: don't shit where you eat. The merchandise, they bring it into the city from Europe, Asia, Africa, South America...nobody's snatching people off the streets and trying to make them hook here, right?" Guido said, unable to keep a smile off his face at the loud wet smacking sounds from beneath the table. Jimmy was clearly getting into it.

"Because that's dangerous. Noisy. Attract a lot of unwanted attention," Lois said. "Not just to whoever is doing it, but to all the other operations. That means the person doing it isn't local...they're an outsider. Doesn't know the rules, or doesn't care..."

Guido's smile widened. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glazed. "Keep goin', you're almost there."

The reporter didn't know whether he was talking to Lois or Jimmy, but she went on.

"...which means that if the opportunity comes to drop the dime on them when someone like me comes snooping, it's a chance to eliminate the competition which is making business bad for everybody. Except if it was that easy, they'd maybe already eliminated them...or tried to and failed."

Guido's grin widened.

"Most of the folks involved in that trade, they're business people. This one is...amateur. Different interests. Takes the whole BDSM theme too seriously. Plays at being a dominatrix, picks up college ladies, turns them into these latex-clad freaks...surgery, ****, mental breaks. Building a harem or something. Utterly impervious to muscle. Maybe a metahuman, maybe just rich and mysterious and connected. Some of the uncles, they've washed their hands of the whole business."

The uncles, Lois lane knew, were the capos of the Galcone family in Gotham. Men with serious bodycounts. If they didn't want to deal with this Blaze, then she must be a serious player indeed, at least on a small scale.

"Is she tied in with the local BDSM community?" Lois asked. "Likes to show off?"

Guido showed his teeth. "As a matter of fact, she's holding an auction. Not my scene...but I got an invitation...if the price is right."

Lois Lane's eyes narrowed. "How would you like more than a blowjob tonight?"

He raised an eyebrow as Jimmy made a gagging sound.

"You're not exactly my type. Unless you mean..." He glanced down below.

"Jimmy's a good boy. He'll do as he's told. It'll be good for him to feel a real man in his ass," Lois said, hoping that Jimmy's butt was willing to cash the check she was writing.

Guido licked his lips.

"Well. Alright then. You got a deal." He raised his glass in salute. Lois didn't have a drink, but gave a tight-lipped smile.

It was so easy...perhaps too easy. Beneath the table, oblivious to the transaction, Jimmy Olsen sucked and slurped, confident that Miss Lane would take care of him...and she would. She'd make sure he was clean inside and out, that Guido wore a condom and wasn't too rough. Lois Lane would be right there in the room with him, holding his hand as Guido's cock split his sissy ass...and imagining what she and her **** would wear to this **** auction, to catch this Blaze in the act.

In her lair, the demon Blaze watched this farce play out. It was going better than she had dreamed. Her puppet Guido Falcone was guiding both of them down the path that Blaze wanted them on. Lois Lane to discover her dominant side, and Jimmy Olsen to become the sub he was born to be.

"I hope you've enjoyed your night out, Lois Lane," the demon whispered. "Because tomorrow, you'll begin your true transition from reporter to mistress!"

Yet that is another story.