Epilogue: New Routine

Lois Lane didn't need the alarm. She woke up when Blaze's morning wood stabbed into the base of her spine. Silently, the reporter pushed the dickgirl's arm off of her and slid out of bed. Blaze's cock drooped, drizzling a nocturnal emission onto the sheets.

One pair of panties didn't have any jizz on them. The bathroom floor felt sticky beneath her feet, and Lois made a note to mop it out again. Ran the tap just a little, to wet her toothbrush. Looked into the mirror.

She was wearing the collar.

Sometimes, Lois forgot to take it off before she got in the shower. Or she was too tired before bed to remove it. Yet every morning, no matter if she had put it on or not, it was there around her neck. She'd tried throwing it away, and it was always back on her neck the next day. More than once she'd accidently worn it to work, and it looked close enough to a choker that so far nobody had commented on it...and it worried Lois, somehow, that she was getting used to wearing it. With a sigh, she slid it off and put it on the sink so that she could wipe her neck.

Brush, rinse, spit. No time for a shower, Lois just wiped herself down with sanitary wipes, separate ones for her crotch and pits. Slip her legs into hose. Squeezed her ass into knee-length business skirt. Bra, check. Blouse, check. Jacket, check. Give the sleeping dickgirl a kiss on the dick. Low heeled shoes, grab an English muffin, purse and smartphone, and Lois was out the door, licking at the salty drip that had been smeared on her lips.

The reporter couldn't remember when exactly the kiss had become part of her routine. Sometime in the last few weeks, certainly. At first, Lois had thought of them as stolen kisses...Angie had shoved her cock into the reporter's face so often, it wasn't like they were strangers...and then, slowly, Lois had just come to think of it as her dick. She'd even taken to talking to it, when Blaze wasn't listening.

"See you tonight," she whispered to herself in the elevator down to street level.

She was halfway to the Daily Planet building when she realized she was wearing the collar again.

Coffee. Watercooler chat with Clark Kent. Jimmy Olsen was wearing nail polish today and wanted tips on colors, matching eye shadow. Perry White had put on one too many nicotine patches and was vibrating with tobacco-fueled energy. Blaze's first sext of the day was a seventeen-second video of her stiff cock, laid out on the edge of the sink, as the dickgirl beat it with Lois Lane's hairbrush hard enough to leave visible marks on the skin. The reporter bit her lip, knowing that was code that Angie wasn't going to jerk off all day...and that Lois shouldn't make any plans for this evening. Lunch at the food truck down by the loading dock, getting the word on the street from the Newsboy Legion. In the afternoon, Lois slid out of the office to do some interviews, check the hall of records for a piece she was doing on some maybe-shady real estate transactions by Lex Luthor's niece...and then Lois found herself hurrying home.

A month ago, when Lois had given up on kicking Angie out, she had tried to introduce a chore list. The dickgirl had promptly ignored it. Angie did all the cooking, because she was better at it, and she did the dishes, bought the groceries, and took the garbage down to the dumpster. Absolutely everything else that constituted basic household maintenance was down to Lois. Once, Lois had come home to find her last clean pair of panties wrapped around Blaze's cock as she was jerking off, and when she had asked why, the dickgirl had explained that it was because she'd already ruined the last of the reporter's clean socks.

Which meant that most days when she returned home, the first thing Lois did was clean. That too had become a routine. Mondays, bedroom and change the sheets. Tuesdays, living room and flip the couch cushions. Wednesdays, kitchen. Thursdays, bathroom. Friday, vacuum everything and do wash. Blaze had settled into the routine too, watching Lois like a cat from another room, that strange half-smile on her face...

Today was Thursday. Lois remembered the sticky floor. What the reporter wasn't prepared for was the enema kit sitting on the toilet.

Blaze sat on the bed, the door to the bathroom wide open as Lois took off her shoes, skirt and hose. It was amazing how used the reporter had gotten to having the door open around Angie. The dickgirl rarely said anything, but she knew that she liked to watch...even when the reporter was on the toilet. She also knew that when she told Blaze it was a dangerous day, like today, she could only fuck the reporter's ass.

Which is obviously what was going to happen.

The dickgirl had her own routine as well. A few weeks ago, all of the reporter's plastic disposable razors had disappeared. When she asked about it, Blaze offered to shave the reporter herself...which is how Lois had found herself, every three days, bent over the sink, spreading her pussy and ass with both hands as Angie lovingly lathered up her cunny and anus and ran the pink plastic razor down in slow, careful strokes. Until Lois was clean and bare. A splash of aftershave, and Lois was set...and oddly, she liked the almost ritual fetishism of the whole scene, the scrape of the steel blade against the sensitive skin next to her asshole holding an almost erotic thrill.

Blaze watched on the corner of the bed as Lois cleaned herself out. The reporter swallowed, still amazed that her ass could take something that big...but Blaze had two surprises for her.

One was a bucket of soapy water and a rag. The other was a small black dress, with a white apron and a kind of bonnet.

Lois smiled at the dickgirl. "Really, Blaze?"

"Address me as 'Oui, madame,'" Blaze said, in a mocking French accent on the last two words.

The reporter shook her head...but she was already disrobing and slipping into the dress. Why not, after all? Plenty of couples did a little roleplay.

On her knees, Lois began to scrub the floor. She didn't immediately turn her well-lubed backside toward Angie. For one thing, she really did want to clean the bathroom. For the other, as much as the dickgirl had been holding it in all day, Lois wanted to make her work for it, at least a little...

Over slow minutes, the "maid" finished wiping the sticky floor, and had started scrubbing the toilet...wondering how Blaze had gotten cum stains on the wall behind it...when she felt the tip of something warm and hard press against her butthole...and her eyes went wide, because she was wedged in between the toilet and the sink, and knew that Angie had picked this very moment because Lois couldn't get away...and the cock didn't go in an inch and stop for Lois to get used to it, as usual.

No, Blaze pressed the swollen cockhead against the clean, shaved anus, and just kept pushing...all the way...until her hot, heavy balls were pressed up against the back of the reporter's ass, and Lois was shaking stuffed full of her meat.

"I think you should wear this more often," Blaze whispered...and Lois gasped as the cock began to slowly reverse course. The dickgirl would take her time fucking her, until her little maid was crying out, begging for her to cum...and Lois had no doubt that they had just added something else to their new routine...