Epilogue: Lois Lane, Slut- of Darkseid

The air was filled with screams. Constant, omnipresent, a background nose that invaded every thought. Millions of damned souls, still living, still slaving away. Those that should have been new generations of gods, reduced to drudgery, their only chance to rise above the rest was by showing a talent for ****...strength.

Lois Lane had heard of Apokalips, but the stories didn't do the place justice. Higher gravity dragged against her body, her cunt more firmly impaled on the dark god's cock than ever before. The air was harsh, hot. It burned her lungs and throat. Her eyes watered, the tears leaving streaks in the fine ash that covered her face. Something like sanity began to creep back into the slut-****'s mind.

The stone-faced god held her in place as the Boom Tube snapped shut before them. The whore-reporter looked around to find them in a kind of throne room...a nasty, brutalist architecture. The walls rose at angles to meet at the ceiling. A throne lay near the back of the chamber, on a raised dais reached by a ramp between two gaping, flame-filled pits.

Darkseid snapped his fingers...and garishly dressed figures stooped forward from the corners.

"Dress her," he announced. "As befits the Whore of Darkseid."

Lois **** herself not to struggle...she could see that any rebellion at this point was useless. Strange cuffs about her wrist locked onto a rounded metal bar that went about the back of the dark god's neck. Strong hands **** the reporter's legs back until the ankles touched the sides of her buttocks, and then were strapped into place with metal ribbons. With apologetic glances, they pulled Lois forward until they could slip a ball and hook up into her ass...which was attached via a chain to a metal bar that pierced her navel.

"It would be unseemly if you defecated on our lord and master," one figure hissed. "This device will eliminate your fecal matter before it enters this passage. Such is the will of almighty Darkseid."

The dark god ignored this flattery. Hands held her jaw open as a gag was slid in place...and a tube down her throat. Then her jaw was **** closed, strong thin wires locking her jaw so she could not open it again. Lois felt a trickle of something liquid down her throat, and knew this device must be how she was fed...and that taken together, Darkseid had no intention of letting Lois off of his cock anytime soon.

Stolidly he stood, as Lois twisted in place, unable to stop them from slipping on a metal backbrace that lifted her small breasts, and cinched around her neck so that she could hardly turn her head. **** to stare straight ahead as she was impaled on Darkseid's cock.

Women came forward, then. With powders and sponges. They wiped Lois's almost naked body down with a thin gleam of oil...bright dustings of red powder accentuated her naked breasts as they thrust out proudly. Her lips were slashed with crimson, dark circles about her eyes, an artificial blush across her cheeks. Lois burned beneath the paint, knowing how garish she must look...but Darkseid seemed satisfied.

He walked up the ramp, ascending to his throne...and sat, so that Lois could see the whole throne room before her...and more than that, she could feel his cock impaling her. Idly, he flexed, his balls raising, and Lois moaned as even that slight movement felt like it was going to tear her apart. Her head rested against his chest, and struggle as she might, Lois could not lift those heavy cuffs over his head, nor wiggle free from the cock that fucked her so deeply, or the hook squeezed into her ass.

"You stink of the Kryptonian. He will come for you," he growled. "Eventually. Until then, you are my bauble, to be showed off to my court...all shall gaze at the cunt broken on Darkseid's godhood, and tremble with fear and longing. Perhaps, in the fullness of time, you will birth me an heir...for my sons and daughters have been disappointments. But that, I doubt you will survive."

Huge, stony hands reached forward to grasp her breasts. A singular figure in a tall hat, bowing and scraping, ascended the long ramp.

"My lord," he said, bowing deep...although Lois had the sickening feeling that his eyes stopped at where the great grey testicles pressed against her splayed cunt.

"Desaad," he spoke. "Prepare for the Kryptonian's arrival. It could be an hour...or a year. We must be prepared."

"At once, my liege." Evil viziers and used car salesmen would weep to hear the effortless schmooze in that voice...and the worst part was, Lois could see the erection in his clothing. He wanted her.

"And do something about...these," his immense hands pinched the reporter's nipples and pulled until her breasts were stretched painfully in front of her body. Lois squirmed in agony. "They are too small for Darkseid."

"Of course, my liege."

Desaad backed down the ramp...and Lois felt, as she would feel many times, that terrible eruption inside of her...and knew that Darkseid only truly got off when inflicting pain.

He dropped her nipples. One great grey hand went to the reporter's flat stomach, distended by his own cock.

"A part of me hopes the Kryptonian will not arrive...too quickly. It would please me for him to see you large with my child."

Lois Lane was not given to prayer...and yet as she closed her eyes, trapped in a hell beyond anything she had imagined, the reporter prayed...that Superman would not come for her. Would not see her like this. Because a part of her already knew things were happening in her body...and it was too late to go back.