Lois Does Not Pass Out

This was not Lois Lane's first time being **** and kidnapped. The reporter knew, from experience, to go limp and boneless as a cat that doesn't want to be picked up, to close her eyes to mere slits, and breathe shallowly. The more it looked like she was already out, the less inclined her captors would be to **** her anymore.

So it was that the wet and naked reporter was at least half-conscious as hands picked her up and carried her away. Eyes barely open at all, but enough to let the reporter see that she was carried out of the shower and down through a stairwell, through a firedoor, and into something that looked more like a catacomb or a crypt than the sub-basement of a warehouse. Cement gave way to red brick, and brick to stone blocks from between which grey mortar crumbled. Electric lights remained in place up above, but the air grew cooler and closer. The women who held Lois shivered as they descended through a long passage that sloped down into the bowels of the earth, far beneath Metropolis.

They passed into a chamber that seemed carved out of the living bedrock. Lois became aware of braziers aflame that cast weird shadows on the wall. Of figures in cloaks and masks that assembled before a kind of raised altar, on which the reporter was laid...a naked woman held her wrists above her head, and another held her ankles. Even semi-**** as Lois was, she thought she might be able to surprise them and kick free...

Somewhere, a gong was rung...and Lois became aware of another presence. One that made the goose-flesh rise on her skin. Every hair on her body suddenly stood on end, and it took everything she had not to flee or show any sign of awareness. Through her slit pupils she saw a slim, feminine form approach the altar...no robe on this one...the breasts barely covered by strips of orange cloth, a belt of metal discs with leering demonic faces about her hips. Yet the skin was the bright red of fresh blood on parchment, and the voice that called out held an odd and terrible resonance that shook Lois Lane to her soul.

"Welcome, one and all...the richest and most powerful women in Metropolis. You have come here because I can give you what those plastic surgeons and personal trainers cannot! I can rid you of the fat that hides the beauty of your bodies...and I can keep it off, permanently. See here, the sacrificial lamb!"

A red hand, so hot that Lois nearly screamed, touched her bare belly.

"Make a compact with me, and all your excess fat shall be hers. Eat whatever you wish, never exercise more than you want to, but remain thin and graceful! All of that excess shall be added onto her...and as she waxes greater and greater, you will remain. And all it will cost you is your soul..."

Lois dared the flicker of one eyelid. She caught a glimpse of a smug, knowing smile on a wide gash of a mouth; pure white eyes without pupil or iris that burned from within, dark horns that curled back from a broad forehead, and behind that some kind of metal tiara that held back the wild black locks of the demon's hair.

There was a commotion among the robed and masked figures...and Lois Lane knew that one of them struggled toward the altar.