Ask About The Curse First

"You said you know about the Lane family curse," Lois Lane said, after she polished off half a glass of champagne. "How?"

Angelica Blaze smiled. "I put it on your line. Thousands of years ago. I'm not entirely human, you see. Once, long ago, a woman who was barren called me up and begged for the blessing of fertility—and I granted her desire. In fact, I wove the gift of it into her soul, and that of all of her descendants."

Lois Lane frowned hard. She felt suddenly dizzy. "That's...I mean, if it was thousands of years ago, then that would mean this curse effects thousands, tens of thousands of people!"

Blaze frowned a little. "Well, not quite that many. Most of the branches die out after a few generations, and it doesn't pass through the male heirs at all. Only the unbroken maternal line. You've probably got a few cousins that are haunted into their first pregnancy, but really, fewer than you would think."

The reporter shook her head, but that didn't clear it. If anything, the lights in the dim-lit VIP room seemed to grow brighter, and the air warmer. Lois felt herself begin to sweat a little. She took a long, deep breath through her nose...only to catch the faintest whiff of the masculine scent from Blaze's bold.

Lois blinked, **** herself to sit up and straighten her back. Despite the heat, the topless reporter felt her nipples stiffen and swell automatically. Blaze smiled as she finished off the rest of her bubbly, obviously amused at the reaction of the reporter's body. The dickgirl, for her part, lounged back, eyes half-lidded, legs now spread so that the bulge in her crotch was obvious. The size and shape of it pressed against the sheer black material like a shroud-wrapped corpse.

"This close," Ella Lane whispered in her daughter's ear. "Blaze's power feeds the curse. You can feel it, can't you dear? The heat inside your body, like an ache deep down. That's your body shifting into the most fertile part of its cycle. Preparing itself for impregnation."

"But I...I don't want to get pregnant," Lois said, and even to herself her voice sounded oddly strained, almost as if she was drunk. "Not...not to you."

"Oh?" Blaze raised an eyebrow. "Is there someone you would like to impregnate you? I might be able to facilitate that."

Lois Lane swallowed hard. Whether it was her mother's words or just the power of suggestion, Lois almost imagined she could feel a kind of cramp, deep in her abdomen. Her pussy clenched and the reporter could feel the unaccustomed wetness between her legs. Grit her teeth as a sexual flush came over her body like a fever.

"Come, Lois," Blaze said. "Give me a name, and I'll bring them here to knock you up. No more curse. Your mother can rest in peace. And the only price is...I get to watch."

The dickgirl's damn smug smile infuriated Lois Lane. The ghost of her mother seemed to hover over the reporter. Lois Lane's hand shook as it held the empty champagne glass—and the reporter's throat was dry. She couldn't remember when she had emptied it. Or how long they had been in this room. The reporter's heart hammered against her breast bone, and when her lips parted, Lois blurted out a name.