Epilogue: Lois Lane's Superslut Life

Hawkgirl emerged, straight from the shower. Lois could hear her shake the water from her wings. Unable to see, the reporter waited patiently in her rack. Rough, callused hands squeezed the reporter's aching, overfilled tits. Tugged at the chain between Lois Lane's nipples. Gave the gear a half-turn, so that the bars squeezed tighter, the great silicone tits turning a deeper shade of purple.

Lois imagined those eyes shining with anticipation. The happy smile on the heroine's face as she lifted one knee above the reporter's shoulder, shoving her freshly-cleaned cunt against Lois Lane's face. Heard the sigh of contentment as the hot, pierced tongue of the bound and blindfolded bimbo found Hawkgirl's twat.

"Don't hold out on me you beautiful blonde bitch," Hawkgirl said, her wings snapping in anticipation. "Superspeed. I can take it."

Through the reporter's brain ripped Jessie Quick's superspeed formula. The reporter's tongue became a pink blur, faster than an Hitachi wand, with the skill and experience of a professional whore. Hawkgirl moaned as the blurring pink tongue ground against her clit, slathered her pussy, tongue-fucked her cunt with a skill and eagerness like nothing a regular woman could ever experience...or withstand.

Some days, the women of the Justice League took turns seeing who could last the longest. Wonder Woman had the record with twelve minutes, eighteen seconds before her first orgasm. Hawkgirl didn't last anything like that...and Lois Loved the taste of her juices as the Thangarian's cunt flooded, the **** moans as Shayera's tough demeanor broke down completely. Losing herself in the vibrating tongue that made her whole cunt feel so alive...so good.

Her reward for being a hero.

Batgirl let Lois out of the bondage when her shift was over. Lois Lane was never off-limits to the ladies of the Justice League, but both they and the reporter knew it was hot to be in her "free use" configuration. The Caped Crusader slipped the collar on the reporter's unresisting neck, admired the red marks of the rack, already failing as Lois Lane's knew healing factor caused the bruises to fade.

"Time for your treatment," Barbara said, the redhead's mask unable to hide the flush of her cheeks, the dilated eyes...and Lois wondered if the nipples were hard beneath that Bat-insignia breastplate, the pussy wet beneath those tight pants.

Lois had her own "guest" quarters on the Justice League satellite now, a home-away-from-home where the reporter now spent more time than her own apartment. It was like a double life, and Lois knew it. At home were her Pulitzer prize, the pictures of her sister and father, clothes and shoes and a mostly empty fridge. Here...

The butt-plugs were arranged in order of size. Rings around the bed allowed for any number of positions, with the golden ropes. There were tubes for enemas, a lube dispenser, cameras to capture the action...and enough soundproofing and lead that even Superman had no idea what happened inside of here.

The superslut took her position on the bed, great fake tits dangling down from her chest, like a pair of basketballs. Batgirl slipped a thumb into the reporter's ass without effort, three fingers spreading into her cunt...and Lois moaned, sighed. She'd had more inside of her...much more. Her record was three fists in her pussy at once, and that was a bright, hot memory that made her cunny wet...and no matter how hard they used her, her elastic holes would stretch, the tears would heal. Leaving her always tight and ready to fuck.

Batgirl lined the needle up with the base of the reporter's spine. Lois hissed as the hard metal shaft slipped in....and then there was the sense of pressure as the redhead depressed the plunger, sending the bright green liquid surging into the reporter's veins. The super-steroid injections were supposed to be safe, when taken in moderation, promoting increased muscle mass...and Lois could feel it, the muscles on her neck swelling until the collar seeked to **** her, shoulders bunching, the weight of her tremendous tits easing...

Lois shook her blonde mane and looked back at Batgirl, pleadingly.

The leash had already been tied to a metal loop on the wall over the reporter's head. The black pants were down, Batgirl feeding a double-edged dildo with odd, protruding knobs into her pink cleft. Barbara called it her bat-dildo, and Lois knew that the young redhead needed this release so badly...and that the exercise would help the **** move through the reporter's system faster.

Lois put in an appearance at work. She did much of her writing away from the office these days...the ladies all but fed her everything that was going on, and Perry White had given her carte blanche to come and go as she pleased. Clark Kent smiled to see her up and about, and for a moment Lois saw herself reflected in the lenses of his glasses.

The great dyed-blonde hair that fell past her shoulders. Ridiculous breasts, jutting out proudly, that required a custom bra...when she remembered to wear a bra...in a bright pink angora sweater that emphasized their swell and curve, and did nothing to hide the heavy rings piercing her nipples. Pink lipstick and eye gloss, her makeup never less than perfect. Three-inch heels and a wasp-like waist. Implants in her ass that gave her more ass-cleavage than most women had cleavage, period, barely contained in a black pencil skirt.

"Lois," he said. "Kara was looking for you."

Lois blinked, nodded. "Did she say where?"

"On the roof."

The reporter pressed her breasts against his broad, muscular chest and gave him a peck on the cheek. In another life, maybe, she'd have fancied him...fancied who they might have been together. Yet Lois was married to her new job, now, and hurried to the elevator that would take her to the roof of the Daily Planet.

She looked up into the sky...and her now more-than-human eyes saw the red glint of Supergirl's cape from a mile off. Coming in at speed. Not many people knew this, but superheroes could suffer from anxieties too. Little nervous quirks. Lois had known reporters like that, people who would go out on assignment but couldn't go to the bathroom anywhere except in their own toilets.

Lois got on her knees, face toward the sky...and saw the little red skirt billowing around the twenty-year-old Kryptonian's ass and bare pussy. The panties were off, and Lois knew that she had to have been holding it all day long...

The cunt came to rest against the reporter's face, and Lois Lane's mouth engulfed the pussy a microsecond before the hot stream of super-piss hit her mouth. A less durable woman might be spitting teeth, but ever since her augmentations, Lois was made of sterner stuff. She drank the young heroine's hot piss, heart fluttering as the tide of Kryptonian urine swirled around in her mouth before hitting her stomach.

When Kara was done, Lois licked her clean.

"Thanks Lois," Kara murmured.

"Supergirl," Lois said, licking at her lips. "You know what we agreed on."

"Right...thanks, toilet-cunt."

Lois smiled as the young heroine roughly grabbed the reporter's long blonde hair and used it to wipe her shaved pussy clean. The reporter smiled and waved as she flew off.

In truth, Kara was too nice. Sometimes, Lois just wanted to be treated like the superslut she was. She let out a breathe, feeling the hot piss settle in her belly....and then felt the throb of the tattoo, down by her left hip, which meant that Wonder Woman needed her back at the tower.

A superslut's work was never done.