Her Mouth

Down the steps, into the darkness... Lois felt a chill settle into her skin, a closeness to the stale air, and for a moment the walls seemed to be closing in. Then she took a deep breath, releasing it through her mouth. She found her center. And continued her descent.

Her feet hit something hard and loose. She reached down and felt something...familiar. Cold hard loops of metal, separated by a chain.

"Put them on." A voice broke from the darkness. It echoed through the descending stair like a whisper. "You will need them for the next challenge."

Lois swallowed. She didn't like this, but the reporter knew that magic followed its own strange rules...and this was magic, all of it; some bit of legend transported beneath the streets of Metropolis, a demon's game. A game she had to win.

In the darkness, Lois slipped one of the handcuffs around her left wrist. Closed it, though not too tightly. The reporter moved to close the cuff around her other wrist...

"Behind your back." The voice whispered...and it was Blaze's voice, Lois had no doubt about that. Begrudgingly, Lois slipped her hands behind her back, and slipped the other cuff in place, closing it around her right wrist.

"Now, you are ready." The voice was a breath of wind...a wind that picked up and howled from below, an unseen wall sliding aside to reveal another door, lit from above by a single glowing crystal.

It was like the other door, a woman trapped in bronze. But here the legs were spread, the vulva open, the wrists bound by chains and hanging from the ceiling. There were two indentations before the door...places where the stone had been worn smooth.

"How am I supposed to push this open?" Lois said out loud.

"You don't." Blaze's voice hovered just behind Lois. "No **** may open this door. Only...ask it sweetly."

Lois surveyed the situation. She had a terrible idea that she knew exactly what the demon meant.

Hesitantly, wary of some trap, Lois knelt before the door. Her knees slipped into the worn indentations, which brought her head...yes. Just at the right height so that her mouth was level with the door's pudenda.

The reporter took a deep breath—unable to shake the feeling of eyes upon her—and leaned forward, tongue extended.

Brass, gritty with verdigris beneath her tongue. Like licking an old penny. Lois' tongue delved inside, careful not to chip her teeth on the metal labia, hoping there would be some button, some catch, some hidden lever but—no.

She could feel the metal move to her delving tongue, but slowly, oh so slowly, like the door above. With a quiet sigh, Lois slowed her frantic tonguing and began long slow licks, up and down those brassy lips. Her patient tongue delved and explored, not looking for some catch-spring, but senses exquisitely attuned to the slow motions of the figure in the brass door, the slightest shift and change in pressure that might indicate pleasure, the slight salty discharge that began to trickle over her tongue...

After a few minutes, Lois noticed that the clit had begun to emerge from its hood...and she continued her ministrations, eyeing the nub of flesh as a gardener watches a crop ripen. She could feel her own body responding, even though her own mouth tasted like a battery; her nipples were hard beneath her shirt, straining to be touched, her damp fuckhole swallowing her panties, the black lace crawling up her ass...

At last, the clit emerged, and Lois jumped on it, mouth closing on the brazen nub and sucking it as eagerly as if it was a little cock...and she didn't stop, not even when a dull moan filled the corridor. Not until the door retreated and sank into the floor, revealing a bright hallway, full of light...