Horrified

Oh fuck. Lois Lane blinked, feeling suddenly, terribly sober. Rat's deflated balls and violated prick hanging out there for all to see. Oh FUCK. What did I do? What have I become?

The reporter held her head in her hands for a minute, staggered at what had just happened...and what she had just done. Her pulse raced, and she knew she should be sick...but instead she felt a weird satisfaction deep inside. Like the aftermath of a good meal or a good fuck.

Lois took a deep breath and pulled up her pants, forcing herself to look away from the **** man's mutilated genitals. If she hadn't seen the aftermath with her own eyes, she could almost believe it was just an hallucination brought on by a **** drink...but something inside of her told her that wasn't the case.

Calm down, Lane, she told herself. Just...walk away. Rat was a piece of shit anyway. Just need to figure this out. Just need...a drink.

Unsteadily, the reporter walked along the hallway. The whole night so far had been crazy. She almost felt ****, out of her mind. Nothing about what had just happened was normal.

I'm not like that, she told herself. I'm not. I just...not.

The lights were out for a section of corridor ahead, but Lois could hear noise. People, music, the clink of glass. Some sort of club-under-the-club. She licked her lips, thinking how nice a drink would be right now. Not that she normally indulged, but after what had just happened she could use a stiff...

The knife whispered and clicked as it slid out. Lois instinctively paused, then felt the cold line of the blade at her throat, the warm, rough hand clamped on her waist.

"Well lookee here...got us a whore," a man's voice, breath foul in the darkness. The thumb of the hand slipped into the waistband of the reporter's pants. "I could really use a go. But I don't have any money. How 'bout a freebie?"

The blade pressed just a little harder as the would-be-**** fumbled with her pants one-handed. Strangely, Lois found she wasn't scared at all. Just sort of weirdly calm, almost as if it was happening to somebody else. She wondered if that was just from the shock or...she pushed the thought away, concentrating on the moment.

In second, her attacker would have her pants down and try to stick his prick in her. She needed to decide how to respond to that—and fast.