Not Yet She Hasn't

Her mistress patted Lois Lane on the head. The reporter couldn't express how that made her feel. Elated and excited didn't seem to be the right words. That small gesture of affection struck her more profoundly than any kiss from any lover. Her heart fluttered, at this little show of approval.

"You probably tink yourself a good bitch now," the old Black woman said as she ran her hand down the reporter's hair, all the way from her forehead to the back of her neck, Lois leaning into the gesture even as her ass squeezed on the silicone cock in her ass. "But it's easy to pretend to be a good bitch in private. No pryin' eyes. No one but me to see you. Real bitches ain't got nuttin' to hide from the world. You want your tail?"

"Yes!" Lois barked, breathlessly,

"Dere's a public restroom, three blocks down on the da left," the Black woman said, never letting up on her petting. "Last stall...dere's a hole in da wall. I had many a good time der. Yo' want to earn yo' tail? Go out dere, nekkid as a bitch should be. An' cum back wid an asshole full of cum."

Lois Lane shook, conflicted. Every pat on the head made her want to do nothing but please her mistress...yet everything about who she was rebelled against the idea of streaking down to some filthy public restroom and pressing her ass against a hole, hoping some wandering bum would stick his cock inside of her..."

Except the little voice inside her head spoke up once more, that devil on her shoulder whose urgings had brought Lois to this point.