Epilogue: Lois Lane, Sexy Maid

"I'm going to be gone all day," the dickgirl said when they were in bed. "And I want you to wear your uniform all day, and the apartment had better be clean when I get back."

"Or else?" Lois said.

"Or else you will be punished," Blaze said, and touched the back of Lois lane's collar. It must have been the woman's imagination, but she swore it always felt tighter when she did that.

So the next morning, her day off, Lois Lane rose and showered...and slid into the little black dress with the white apron and the stockings and the heels, put up her hair and tied it back with the white lace headband.

No panties, of course...but when Lois went into the kitchen to make coffee, she found a little surprise for her sitting on the kitchen table. A list of chores...and something to wear while doing them.

The buttplug was short, but fat...over two inches around. Lois shook her head as she picked it up, trying to imagine how she would get it in her...and a part of her wondered why she did this game. Blaze wouldn't know if she just ran around the house, cleaning in an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, or naked for that matter.

But I would know, Lois thought as she took the plug into the bathroom to douse it in lube.

That was part of why she did these things, of course. Lois had been discovering that part of herself that...liked to follow directions. To give up control. Every day at work she had to be forthright, challenging, even dominant, just to deal with all the sexists and the challenges, the people trying to steal her work, her distinguished competition...and it was such a relief, sometimes, to come home and just grovel for Angie's dick, or to stop worrying for a while and clean the bathroom.

She planted the plug against the lid of the toilet and slid a few lubed-up fingers around her experienced hole. Lois would never have thought she would find anal so easy, or exciting, but Blaze was a fanatic for it...or at least, she was a fanatic for sex, and anal was the safer way to go, unless Lois wanted the pitter-patter of little feet...and a little pang hit her then, as it hit all women at some point...but she dismissed it as the soft rounded point of the black silicone plug touched her anus.

The key, the reporter knew, was to go slow...and use lots of lube. Her anal muscles were well-trained at this point, and she knew she could take this plug. It just took time...and she had time. Slowly, achingly slowly, pressing down, forcing herself to relax, Lois felt it open her up wider and wider....and her heart hammered in her chest as she felt that familiar ache as her ass began to stretch. She took a full three-quarters of the beast before she had to rest, panting and slightly dizzy. This was always the widest, most difficult part. When gravity alone wasn't enough.

Careful not to rock back and forth, Lois knelt down, reaching under her skirts for the bottom of the toilet...and with as good a hold as she could manage, she began to pull with her arms while forcing her ass down. She could feel the muscles working in her thighs and biceps, but all of her concentration was focused on her ass, the as that was spreading wider and wider, millimeter by millimeter of black silicone **** into the elastic fuckhole, and the reporter knew that if she left up for even a second it would begin to reverse course. She gritted her teeth and pressed down harder, toes curling in her high heels...and then, with a familiar surcease, her asshole rounded the shoulders and contracted around the narrow neck of the plug...and Lois Lane's butt touched the lid of the toilet seat, the toy snugly inside of her, a huge and omnipresent mass.

Lois wasn't sure how she was going to deal with it all day...but she grinned and knew she would.

The hours went by as Lois went down the list of chores. Sweeping and vacuuming. Organizing the books. Dusting the photos. There was a new one, on the wall. Lois and Blaze together, Angie with that Mona Lisa smile, Lois with her collar on grinning like the cat that got the cream. The reporter remembered that photo, because Angie's hand was actually sliding down the back of her panties in it, though no one could see it. She flicked the feather duster over it, the collar suddenly tight around her throat, the plug suddenly heavy inside of her.

She didn't eat all day. Just coffee and lemon water. The reporter knew she would need to clean herself out tonight; one cannot wear a butt plug all day without dealing with a little mess at the end, but she was hoping it wouldn't be a big mess...and anyway, a fast day wouldn't hurt the reporter's figure. Lois was still trim and fit, and she liked to keep it that way while she could.

Some chores were harder than others. Bent over and scrubbing out the oven, Lois had to bite her lip as she wobbled back and forth on her knees, stomach growing and ass spread. The plug was wide enough that it wouldn't come out on its own, but Lois knew it wanted to, and she had to squeeze her muscles to hold it in sometimes...and then there was the living room when she had to move the couch all on her own, and she could feel the sweat running down the inside of the dress...and something that was more than sweat, running down the inside of her thigh, when she found herself rubbing her cunny against the arm of the couch.

By the time Angie came home, Lois was feeling weak at the knees...****. But as the door opened, there were formalities.

Lois met her at the door, head bowed. She gave a little curtsey as Blaze came in, bags of hot take-out in her arms.

"Bon soir, madame," Lois said, in her best French accent.

The dickgirl was dressed in a trenchcoat and fedora...and beneath that, Lois saw, in a three-piece pinstripe suit, very uncharacteristic of her. She stepped past Lois, not even daring bothering to notice her yet, as she set the food on the table.

"Did you do all your chores?" Blaze asked.

"Oui, madame," Lois said, turning to face her.

"Wearing your gift?"

"Oui, madame."

"Bend over the table," Angie told her. "And show me."

It was ****. A day without food, and Lois was **** to bend over the table and smell all that hot, delicious fragrance...but she did. She teetered over there on her high heels, and lifted her skirt...and felt a flush of pride because she had kept the massive plug inside of her all day.

Angie came up behind her to inspect. Lois didn't dare look back, but she heard the rustle of cloth, the snap of buttons.

"You know what I like about that dress?"

"Non, madame?" Lois said, a note of questioning in her voice.

"There's so much room in the front to grow."

Lois nearly jumped when she felt the hot, unprotected head of Blaze's prick press against her damp, shaven slit...and then the reporter was grabbing onto the table and bracing herself as the dickgirl pressed her cock home. With the plug in her ass, Lois felt nearly as tight as a virgin...but it was the dickgirl's words that set her thighs to quaking.

"M...madame! I thought we...weren't ready...for...une baby!" Lois found herself mangling English with the French accent.

"I've decided that we're going to start trying for one," Blaze said. "Your reward for being such a good little maid. Now what do you say to that?"

Lois groaned as the dickgirl's hands found her hips, pinning Lois in place as the cock began to slide in and out...and Lois knew that Balze must have been holding back all day, just as Lois had. Saving herself for this moment. In truth, Lois Lane didn't know if she was ready for a baby, but an image flashed through her head of her eight months pregnant in the same dress, her belly doming out, on her knees and scrubbing the floor as Angie came in and took her from behind, just like this...

"O-oui oui, mistress!" Lois moaned like a French whore. "Mer-merci mistress! Thank you, thank you...ah!"

The first round was hard and fast...and Lois knew she would have to sit in a pool of her lover's spunk and it oozed out of her pussy, all during dinner. Then maybe they would move to the bedroom...or perhaps Lois would take out the plug and clean herself up, so that Angie could fuck her well-stretched and aching asshole...but somehow, the reporter knew where Angie was going to cum. It seemed inevitable.