Epilogue: Out Of The Gloryhole And Into The Gimp Suit

"It's for your own safety," Clark had insisted, as he closed the lid of the box. Lois lane threw him a mournful look, her face obscured by the latex mask, the black dildo-gag prevented her from saying anything...but she allowed herself to be pressed down, packed in tight next to Rose.

They were pressed together, knees to chest. The holes in their gimpsuits let them slide up and down on the silicone cocks that were attached to the inside walls of the box. Alone in the dark, breathing heavy. Waiting for their master to come back and fuck them both stupid.

Lois hoped he would bring friends again, this time.

Not that she minded the thought of his cock railing her. She had never quite experienced any cock as hard and thick...and he could keep going, she knew, all night. It was how Clark had convinced them both to stop visiting the gloryhole. The promise that he would see to all of their needs. He had lectured them sternly about the chances for disease, for injury...for weeks on end. It wasn't until he had taken her by the arm one day after work and back to his apartment to show her the gift he had bought her...

Violet latex. The same color as her eyes. Custom-made, although Lois had never been measured for it. He had laid it out on his bed, with the collar. His hulking frame filled the doorway, the only exit as she had examined it...fingers brushed over the smooth, slick, shiny surface.

"Put it on," he had said...and there was a steel in his voice that hadn't been there before, that had sent a shiver down her spine.

She had turned and smiled at him. Thought to make a game of it, to tease him by slowly unbuttoning her blouse...but he had been in no mood for games.

One step forward, faster than she could see. Two fingers caught her blouse and pulled. Cloth ripped, buttons scattered, her bra snapped. Lois made a wordless exclamation in shock, but one meaty hand gripped her and with abominable strength and calousness tore off her skirt, her panties...until Lois stood there in only her heels.

He wasn't even angry. A little red in the cheeks, but not even breathing hard. It was the first time that Lois realized that she couldn't stop him, not if he really wanted to...

"Put it on," he had said. "Please. It's for your own good." His eyes grew stern. "I won't ask again."

"But..." Lois had said. "What about Rose? I can't just leave..."

Which is when Clark walked over to what Lois had thought was a large chest, and opened the lid. There was a vibrator strapped to the tip of Rose's dick, and the mask had no eyeholes.

"It wasn't safe for Rose, out there," Clark said firmly. "They're safe here now. Just like you will be."

He'd had to fuck Lois Lane's ass long and hard before she agreed to it. The sleeves of her gimp suit could be tied together like a straitjacket. The pants too. Until Lois looked half-mummied, unable to resist as he picked her up and effortlessly threw her on the bed. Bent over a pillow as he pressed his prick against her greedy ass and pressed home...and began a slow, steady pounding that continue on until tears poured from the reporter's eyes. Until the pleasant burn turned into genuine pain as he ass was rubbed raw from the constant friction. Until his could slide his thumb into her ass, next to his pistoning cock, and stretch her hole until she thought she would break...and Lois had spasmed and squirted as he pushed her beyond anything the reporter had ever felt in her life.

So that was her new routine now. No more gloryhole after work. She walked home with Clark Kent, arm in arm...and the moment they came to his apartment, the clothes would come off.

Sometimes, he left them alone together.

Sometimes, he brought a friend.

He was very conscientious, Clark Kent.

Alone, in the dark, Rose moved against her. With that cute muffled moan as she wiggled, the dildo plugged into her ass.

The gimp life agreed with them both.