End: Lois Does Well...Too Well

The night was one of discovery for Lois Lane. For perhaps the first time, she allowed herself to truly cut loose. To cease to be the willful, fiercely independent woman who had clawed and fought herself to the top of the journalism game. Who had pined for Superman from afar. Who had denied herself love and affection, had not allowed herself to give up the control that her life needed.

There was something so freeing about giving up. Allowing herself to be used. To move, jaw aching and dripping, from cunt to cunt. To bury her face completely in another woman. Feel their hands and fingers stretch and explore every part of her. Listen to them joke and admire, and plan.

Her body was a blank canvas to them. No tattoos, no piercings, no brands or stretch marks. Practically a virgin. Queen's body was a map of long years of debauchery and determination. A tally of lusts sated, limits overcome.

The end of the night found Lois coughing and sputtering. The toys had come out shortly after three in the morning, just before the tequila had been poured and the blunts lighted. The last few hours of the night had been a blur...they had made Lois drink and smoke to loosen her up. Wanted to see how many vibrators they could stuff in puppy's pussy and ass. Wanted to hear her gasp as they tightened clamps on the nude woman's nipples. Wanted to see those tiny titties stretch beneath the weights as she moved from one woman to another in an unending line, the tired tongue tracing pussy and ass, tasting their different flavors, tracing the pierced and stretched flesh.

It was near dawn when Latisha collapsed into a drunken stupor. Only Queen was left...Queen who sat in a rattan chair like it was a throne, her bony knees spread, the weights on her labia dangling over the edge so that her cunt seemed to be a tunnel. With a half-smoked cigar held in two fingers, the bottle in the other. Lois Lane, panted, exhausted. Her body marked with the red marks of teeth, flushed from spankings, weak with exhaustion and more climaxes than she could count...and she raised her head to meet Queen's eyes.

"One choice," the Black woman spoke, her voice a deep rasp from the smoke, the brown eyes magnetic. "Your last choice. You can leave now, go back to whatever life you had...or you can crawl back in that cage and deep throat that dildo. Then you're our little pet. Forever."

Lois shivered. And the voice, that terrible strange voice that had pushed and goaded her along through all of this, that had kept her moving even when her jaw ached and her pussy felt ready to break, was oddly silent.

Perhaps there was no more need. Lois dragged herself on all fours back into the cage. Three vibrators buzzed away in her splayed cunt, and two in her ass. The tight holes dribbled with spit, tequila, lube, and her own pussy juice. Brain numb, the broken and exhausted former reporter did what a good pet should do. Her knees scuffed the newsprint that lined the bottom of the cage, inadvertently tearing away one of her old bylines. Lois didn't even see it as her aching jaw opened for the thousandth time that night. The silicone tip slid in her mouth...her tongue tasted her own dried pussy juice...and as she opened wide to **** the knot between her teeth, she felt the tip tickle her throat.

The door of the cage closed. Perhaps it was Queen who closed it. Lois Lane couldn't see. She only felt with a finality that she was trapped once again...and she did not know when or if she would leave this cage again.

In her lair, the demon Blaze withdrew from the mind of Lois Lane. The scarlet succubus shook a little, troubled in the dark abyss of her own spirit. It was impossible to ride a human without experiencing something of what they experience...and though Blaze had poked and prodded Lois Lane into this end, as the demon had with other women before, never had she found anyone to submit themselves so completely to that strange coven.

Blaze bit her lower lip. In her own darkest heart of hearts, she wondered what it would be like...