Chapter 19 by Zeebop

Does Lois Cooperate Or Not? She's Fucked Either Way.

Lois Cooperates

"Good elf," Blaze said, and then her strange half-smile widened to show white teeth. "Good slut."

The plug slid upward and Lois Lane tensed. Instinctively she squeezed her ass, to fight it...and then, realizing the damage it would do if the demon **** it in like that, the elf reporter relaxed. Blaze smiled the whole time, as the resistance faded and the spit-slick tapered butt plug slid home. There was a narrow neck, and the reporter's anus fastened around it automatically. The demon dropped her fingers and stood.

"One night, Lois Lane," Blaze said. "One night, you will be the plaything of some grown-up nerd who is paying me good money to **** an elf princess. Play the part, be their dream come true, and in the morning you can leave...perhaps I'll even let you talk to some of the other women who you came to seek. After all, I doubt you'll want to put this part in your article..."

The reporter's cheeks burned. She hadn't told Blaze any of that, but it was as if the demon had ripped the thoughts from her mind...and Blaze laughed, a soft and silvery laugh as at some deeply private joke. The sound lingered in the reporter's ears even after the demon left the room...and Lois Lane was there, hung with her feet above her head and handcuffed to a ring on the floor, her nipples hard and her pussy bare, waiting on some pervert to walk in and have his way with her all night.

If I'm lucky, maybe I can take advantage of the roleplay, the gagged reporter thought as she looked around the dungeon. There was nothing like a bed, except for a bed-of-nails in one corner, and various other prop pieces of **** equipment hung about...an articulated skeleton hung in manacles from the wall opposite, an iron maiden loomed in one corner, a selection of whips and pincers next to a small brazier to her left, an X-shaped cross to her right...nothing she could get at and use, but maybe if she begged and pleaded, her client could help her escape...

It all depended on who the client was.

Her ears twitched, super-sensitive hearing picking up noises in the hall outside...footsteps...a low conversation...and the reporter's heart leaped in her chest. She recognized that voice.