Epilogue: Angelica Blaze, Lois Lane's Maid

The smell of fresh coffee woke Lois Lane from her slumber. The sizzle of bacon, the scrape of a wooden spatula as eggs fried. The reporter rose and stumbled toward the bathroom, shedding nightclothes as she went. Angie would pick them up. That was her job, after all.

It had taken Lois about thirty seconds to get used to someone else doing the laundry. Her new roommate-cum-live-in-maid had adjusted to her new employment quickly...the reporter came home every night to a clean apartment and a hot, home-cooked meal. There were a few legalities to take care of, but even with her diminished powers and resources it was child's play for Blaze to get U.S. citizenship, an employment contract...and a uniform.

A crimson ass greeted Lois Lane's eyes as she entered the kitchen. The black skirt failed to cover it, and the black hose and heels only accentuated the scarlet bubble butt. Blaze turned and gave Lois a smile...the front skirt did not conceal the tip of her cock, which dangled between her legs; the apron ended just below her small red breasts, so that the pink nipples jutted out. She looked like a sexy parody of a French maid from Hell...which, in a way, is exactly what she was.

"Dig in, sweetmeat," Blaze said as she slid eggs and bacon onto a plate. "You're eating for two."

Internally, Lois groaned. Blaze was a surprisingly good cook, better than Lois herself, but after a month the reporter worried that the steady meals were starting to have their impact on the reporter's waistline. Despite the hours at the gym, the numbers on the scale were slowly climbing...five pounds in four weeks wasn't too much, but the pregnancy had only begun. Lois hadn't even begun to show yet.

Her stomach rumbled.

With a sigh, she sat down and began her meal. Blaze busied herself with cleaning up the cookware—and Lois wondered at the strange circumstances that had her knocked up, with a scarlet succubus as her personal maid.

And perhaps...more than that. The demon's cock was hard by the time the final dish was put in the rack to dry...and when Blaze stepped behind her, Lois glanced at the clock and stood up. They had more than enough time for Blaze's payment.

Lois Lane's naked thighs pressed into the tabletop as Blaze, close behind her, rubbed the head of her cock against the reporter's slit. Lois remembered how hesitant she had been, the first week or two, when faced with Blaze's sexual needs...but lately, she had grown very accustomed to it. The demon's cock found the entrance to her pussy and slid forward...and Lois gasped, as she always did, at the familiar stiffness.

"Hmm, you're so tight today, ma'am," Blaze said.

"You always say that, Angie," Lois huffed as her cheeks reddened.

"It's always true," Blaze set her hands on top of Lois Lane's on the kitchen tabletop, and the tall demon moved her hips back and forth. Her apron rustled against Lois Lane's lower back as the cock slid in and out. "What do you want for dinner tonight? I could do a rack of lamb...or roast duck, with those scalloped potatoes you like..."

"You're trying to fatten me up!" Lois accused.

"Not at all ma'am. I just want to make sure that you, and the baby, are eating well—" Blaze leaned in and whispered. "I could make my homemade butter pecan ice cream."

Lois groaned in response. Her clit was angled so that it pressed against the table top, the edge dug into the tops of her thighs, and Blaze plunged her cock in deep and humped and ground in little circles until the reporter cried out...and then there was a fierce burst of frantic motion as Blaze, unable to contain herself anymore, plugged Lois Lane raw and hard, until the glasses and plates shook on the table, and at last something hot and wet dripped from the reporter's naked cunny.

They spent a minute in the afterglow, and panted softly together.

"You need to get to work," Blaze said. She kissed the back of Lois Lane's neck. "I'll pack you a lunch as you get ready."

The cock pulled out with a wet schlorrp. Lois didn't even care that the black goo dripped on the floor. She had a maid to handle that sort of thing.