Epilogue: Scars Of Your Love

The bruises had faded to ugly yellows and purples. The stripes on her back and buttocks were still vivid, red, and sensitive. Lois ran the sponge over them, letting hot, aloe-scented water soothe her hurts. The sponge dipped below the surface of the tube, down between her legs. The pregnant reporter grimaced as the rough, natural sponge pressed against the bloody cunt.

It was the heat of the moment. That's what she told herself.

At fourteen weeks, Lois Lane's pregnancy was just beginning to bloom. A slight swell to her abdomen, just below the navel. Firm, not a potbelly. Her nipples hadn't begun to darken yet, but they were puffier now. Lois could still make out the little purple teeth marks where Angie had bit too hard...but they would heal.

Except that they never could leave off from making love long enough to let her fully heal.

Her wife stepped into the bathroom. Naked. Her cock limp, for once. Their lovemaking never stopped, while there was anything left inside those big, hairless balls. That was part of the reason why they went on so long, so roughly. The first hot burst of sperm...that came quick. It was the second and third, when Angie really had to dig to get off...and Lois found she needed it too. It wasn't enough anymore, to just have that cock inside of her. She needed the scrape of those nails...the hard whack of the whip or the paddle...to feel that stiff prick grind into her cervix, until she screamed and screamed and finally grew hoarse.

Angelica Blaze dropped down to the floor, outside the tub. Her hands came up, to run through her wife's dark hair.

"Stand up," her mistress said. "I want to see you."

Gripping the sides of the tub, Lois **** her feet beneath her. Muscles ached. The steam was going to her head, and her skin felt rubbery...but she stood.

It looked worse, like this. The dark splotches where Angie had gripped her too tight. The half-healed scratches...not too deep. Just a little blood, at worst. Her pussy though, was absolutely inflamed. Dark blues and purples, bruise on bruises. The ring through her clitoral hood gleamed, but bloody water trailed down the inside of the reporter's thighs.

"I whipped you hard, didn't I?" Angie mused. Two fingers trailed up her thighs, and Lois did not deny it. By the time they reached the reporters labia, the reporter was shaking...and not just from the cold.

Two fingers slid suddenly up inside of her, and Lois was unable to suppress a groan of pain.

"You know you'll have to give birth through here," Blaze said, as her fingers spread, stretching the reporter's tunnel. More bloody water trickled over the dickgirl's hand. "You know I'm trying to help you, right?"

"Y-yes, mistress," Lois said. Her voice was hoarse from screaming, and she could barely manage a whisper.

"You know we can stop whenever you wish," the dickgirl's eyes were locked on the reporter's hairless, shaven cunny. Her mistress-wife had ordered her to keep it smooth, and now Lois shaved it every day.

"I...I don't want to stop..." Lois said.

"Hmm. But you'll have to be careful, my love. Don't wear anything too revealing. Other people...they wouldn't understand."

Blaze stood, and Lois looked down...yes, the blood was flowing into the dickgirl's prick again. As hard and huge as ever. Angie stepped into the tub, water splashing. She pinned Lois against the wall and pressed her cock into the aching, bruise-black cunt.

"Don't worry," Angie said, thrusting roughly into the reporter's wet, squelching cunny. Lois grunted, uncomfortable. "I won't touch your face. You have to be presentable, after all..."

The dickgirl leaned in. Their lips locked, and Lois returned the kiss with passion. Wet hands reached out to grab onto whatever handhold she could as Blaze began to thrust, cock scraping the injured pussy, fresh blood dripped down her cock, hung off her balls and turned the bathwater beneath her an ugly pink.

Lois Lane moved with her. Rolled with each thrust. Tried to squeeze her pussy, until she went light-headed with the pain. Sometimes, she wondered if it was the scars on her body that worried her, or the ones on her mind and soul. Because after four weeks of married sex, the reporter didn't think she would ever be able to go back to vanilla sex ever again. She needed the pain, the roughness, to get off...and Blaze gave her that.

Gave her all that she could handle.