Lois Becomes The Canvas For Blaze's New Work

The women did not even look back when Blaze let them go. Naked, stumbling, barely able to walk, they tottered together toward the door. If any of them fell, Lois Lane had no doubt that they would have crawled on hands and knees. After weeks of being Blaze's artwork, they were eager for any escape.

And gave no thought to the one who had taken their place.

Blaze's lips pressed against the side of her neck, the hands slipped down the egg-laden belly, fingers burying themselves in Lois Lane's carefully trimmed pubic hair. Something leaked from the tip of the cock hotdogging the reporter's asscheeks. For a moment, the demonic dickgirl simply held her there, as the footsteps of the four women Lois had come to find and save faded away.

"I think you will be my masterpiece," Blaze said.

Untouched by human hand, things in the room began to move. The stained and sullied crucifix disappeared, the ropes untied themselves and swam through the air like snakes in a river. A mop and bucket began their dance, cleaning up the mess, and in the space made clean a mess of straw and grass slithered like a great colony of worms, weaving themselves one into the other to form a great nest.

All the while Blaze stroked Lois Lane's belly...and the reporter stood there, scarcely able to breathe, as she felt the hard round eggs travel through her, faster than should have been possible, stomach starting to protrude a little. Lois felt the bloated sensation she sometimes got when she ate the wrong foods, or was in the middle of a bad period, but this was worse...her stomach was literally sticking out, and she could feel the weight shift inside of her.

Blaze whispered something, long and low, a tuneless half-whistle in a language the reporter didn't know...and gently stepped backwards as the ropes came for Lois.

She had seen shibari done before. Japanese rope bondage. Complicated knots. Designed not to hurt, just to restrict movement...artfully. Yet she had never experienced it herself. Never felt the rope crawl against her skin. Pinning her arms and legs back. Tightening. Then the lift...weight settling on those lines beneath her breasts as invisible hands tugged on the rope, lifting her into the air...to hang as an ornament in Blaze's boudoir.

"Soon," the demon said. "You'll be ready to lay."