End: Tattoo On Her Pussy

Lois Lane nodded downward. The lowest part of her new chest tattoo was at the bottom of her sternum, a dangling vine that reached down toward her navel. Below that was the flat plain of her stomach, like a blank canvas...and beneath that the carefully trimmed patch of black pubic hair and her naked pussy, exposed by the bar between her knees that kept her legs locked apart.

Blaze gazed on the reporter's crotch for a long moment...and then she spoke.

"Razor."

There was a scramble. Lois Lane's heart thundered in her chest as she used the brief breathing spell to plan. The dickgirl stroked her cock as she considered the reporter's cunny.

A straightrazor was produced. A dollop of handsoap. Lois did her best not to move as one of the thugs rubbed the soap into her hair, then brought the razor down to scrape her flesh clean. It went easy...three swipes...and then the man kept going, rubbed the soap over her labia, and Lois would have hissed if she wasn't gagged, because she felt the finger slip in her slit.

All eyes were on the reporter's pussy as the sharp steel slid over her labia. The scrape of metal on flesh filled the silence. Even Blaze was focused on it, not saying a word. Then it lifted free from her skin, baby smooth and ready for Blaze's ink...

...and the reporter's hands came down, the loose end of the handcuff in the man's mouth her left hand snatched the straightrazor from his grip...and Lois Lane staggered to her feet, legs still spread, still gagged but with a weapon in her hand.

Blaze smiled. "Outnumbered and alone, half-bound and gagged, and still fighting. Oh, Lois, I was going to let you go after this little humiliation, but I've changed my mind. I'm going to hold you here for days and not let you free until every inch of you is covered."

She was still smiling when Lois staggered forward and pushed the man who had shaved her at Blaze. The dickgirl swiped him aside contemptuously...but by then, Lois was already falling forward, the razor aimed at the stiff prick between Blaze's legs.

The dickgirl's hand was still wrapped around the base of the shaft. The blade made contact just above her fingers. Like a samurai wielding a katana, Lois pressed down and drew the razor toward her...and it sliced through the flesh like a wire through stiff cheese.

Blood as black as ink spurted from the wound, darker than any blood that Lois had ever seen, with more **** and volume than she would have thought possible. The splash sprayed across the reporter's stomach, and doused her down to the naked crotch...and immediately, Lois could feel the invisible needles working as the rose-vines crept down to greedily drink up this new ink and spread.

The cock hit the floor before Blaze had time to scream.

Lois Lane set to the straps at her knees. Blaze's knuckles were white as she gripped the stump of her penis, utterly shocked at what had happened...and then Lois picked up the dismembered cock and held it up before her, the razor blade almost touching it.

Guns came out, but Blaze threw up a hand.

The cock pulsed and squirmed in Lois Lane's hand like something still alive. The castrated dickgirl gave a wan smile.

"Alright, Lane. Let's make a deal. Drop the penis, and you get free passage out of here. You have my word."

The reporter said nothing...but she backed out of the room. Blaze's eyes flicked, and the men moved out of her way as Lois back up, through the hanging sheets of plastic. She didn't stop until she was in the elevator. Blaze followed, step by step, her gang around her. Even with the pain of her dismemberment, a Mona Lisa smile played on those thin lips.

The elevator doors opened. Lois stepped through...and just before they closed, Lois tossed the cock back into Blaze's face.

The cage shook and rose, and Lois collapsed against the back wall, the razor still in her left hand. She took off the ball gag...and examined the damage.

Trailing vines covered her abdomen, filthy words woven into the curling branches...Lois could make out CUNT, SLUT, WHORE, and CUM CATCHER. Her pussy was a riotous bouquet of flowers, each one with a dripping vulva at its heart. Even her hand itched, and Lois saw that the cock had bled onto it, and now a vine-like bracelet circled her wrist, bedecked with small vulva-roses.

Naked, alone, tattooed, and without a phone or money, Lois knew she'd have to make her way through a crowded club and get some help...contact the police or Superman or someone...but as she sagged her bare ass against the back of the elevator, she took some comfort in the fact that at least she was free.