Lois Resists Becoming Addicted

"Bigger isn't always better," Lois muttered. She couldn't let her erection control her. Her body quivered as she struggled to resist the urges that flowed through her body. The cock seemed to move of its own accord, the head tugged forward, the urethra opening and closing as if it could smell the demonic dickgirls that were out there.

"No," the reporter said. She curled her fingers into her palms, let the nails bite into the flesh. The pain helped to focus her a little. "I'm not some pimply-faced teenage boy with a crusty sock and a hard drive full of porn. You work for me!"

The cock reared. It bent at a painful angle, and Lois felt her gaze drawn down to the great purple head, the little urethra opening and closing, the ridged crown of the one-eyed snake covered with little bumps...the same kind of little nubs that Lois liked on cocks that she invited into her own snatch. The cock was so hard and curved that it damn near touched her stomach.

"Don't look at me like that," Lois hissed, glad that so far none of the demon prostitutes had come to look for their missing friends. "We have one job. Get Blaze. I'm not here to stick it up every bit of Satanic snatch and corrupted cooze that comes across our path."

The cock dipped down, still hard but level with the floor. Out in the hallway, Lois could hear a female voice, and the cock began to tug at her again. The reporter's hips twitched in that direction.

Lois Lane raised her right hand. Some things only understood one language.

Her hand came down on the fat cock in an open-handed slap that almost sent the reporter to her knees. The taut flesh went white...and then turned bright red in four stripes where her fingers had impacted the tumescent flesh.

"There's more where that came from!" The reporter growled, somehow confident that the cock could hear and understand her. "Either you start minding me, or I will beat you black and blue!"