Lois Does Not Beg

If Lois Lane were **** to name her biggest sin, it would be pride.

She knew better than to exercise when sick or hurt. Knew better than to take a stupid bet or challenge. To let wounded pride or insults prickle her into doing something rash.

Yet all through her life, Lois Lane had been stubborn, willful, dogged, obstinate—and yes, prideful. It was pride that had made her work twice as hard to get where she got, to prove the naysayers wrong who accused her of sleeping her way to the top. Stupid pride that had sometimes tripped her up, as when she was suckered into a drinking game at university that led to a cock-sucking contest (which she had won); that had made her trundle onto a nude beach during the heat of the day in August without a drop of sunscreen (and now had to get a skin cancer screening every year); that had led her to getting cunt-punted on camera just to get an interview with the Jackass cast and crew.

Now here she was, her pussy locked away, an inhuman demonic entity feeding her lube-slicked cock into the reporter's asshole...and it was Lois Lane's stupid pride that made her grit her teeth through the pain as the girlcock, obviously far too large for the reporter's virgin hole, pushed unrelentingly forward.

In time, Lois Lane's ass gave way...and it took all of the reporter's self-control not to let out a scream as bright pain burned her asshole. It was like shitting a rock, only backwards, and the woman bound in chastity squeezed her eyes so tight that tears squeezed out of the corners as Blaze pushed her throbbing fuckstick deeper into the reporter's guts...and the salt in the wound was the feel of the demonic dickgirl's thumb on the crack of her ass, smearing the blood from the anal fissure over the reporter's pale skin.

Yet the cock continued its long journey inside of Lois. As the reporter's legs trembled, she could feel the lube-slick meet push forward, stretch her colon around its girth. If Lois hadn't know it was just an extra-large prick, she would have thought Blaze had **** her entire forearm deep inside of Lois...but at last, the warm flesh of the demon's hips and thighs pressed against the reporter and her chastity device.

Red fingers caressed Lois Lane's pale ass-cheeks. Claw-like nails drew red lines. A part of Lois wished the demon would just get on with it...but then she realized that the demon was patient. She waited until the reporter's overstretched asshole relaxed a little. Until the reporter, who drew breath in great gulps of air, had calmed down. The demon didn't want Lois to pass out from the pain. No, she wanted Lois to be conscious for every moment as the demon turned her ass inside out.

"One word," Blaze whispered. "One single 'please,' and your suffering will end. You will be my fuckslave, but the pain will vanish, and I will knit your flesh anew. Of course, if you don't do it soon...well. Some damage could be permanent. Imagine being the greatest reporter at the Daily Planet, but having to wear diapers because your blown asshole cannot hold the shit inside your body anymore."

It was studied cruelty...and through the pain and self-recrimination, Lois Lane's spine stiffened.