The Silence of the Mahogany Table

With Michael, right after a pleasurable moment in bed with Claire.

Lois Lane didn't simply enter the room; she burst in like a hurricane of determination, holding a tablet full of notes and with the expression of someone about to expose the fraud of the century. But, as she crossed the threshold of the conference room, the impact of the scene made her stop abruptly.

The silence in the room was broken only by Claire’s ragged breathing. The Superwoman lay sprawled across a mahogany table—her electric-red cape now serving as a makeshift mat, her spandex suit rumpled and damp with sweat. Michael stood beside her, looking like a man who had just conquered the world, while Claire—her eyes still hazy from an ecstasy that defied the laws of physics—gazed up at him with near-religious devotion.

Lois blinked. Like an observant journalist for the Daily Planet, she processed the image in milliseconds: the positioning of the bodies, the sheen of the skin, the intoxicating scent of sex and power hanging in the air.

"I... I came to deliver the Wayne Enterprises reports, but it seems today's agenda has undergone a drastic... *restructuring*," said Lois, her voice wavering between surprise and growing curiosity.

She didn't look away. On the contrary, her eyes scanned Claire's body—the Kryptonian's dense musculature still trembling slightly from the aftermath of her orgasm—before settling on Michael. There was something about him—the aura of omnipotence that now emanated from his figure—that acted like a magnet. Lois felt a heat run down her spine, an electric tension that left her mouth dry.

Michael said, "Why don't you give me a blowjob?" Lois Lane was known for her sharp tongue and for refusing to bow to any authority, but Michael's aura wasn't one of earthly authority; it was a gravitational force. When he gave the order, there was no hesitation. The phrase didn't sound like a request, but rather like the new law of the premises.

Lois felt the tablet slip from her fingers, falling silently onto the soft carpet. She didn't care. The desire to surrender was visceral—a hunger she didn't know she possessed, but which Michael had awakened with a single glance.

"What do you want me to do with these documents, Michael?" she murmured, her voice now hoarse, as she walked towards him.

Lois reached for the zipper of Michael's pants, opening it with the precision of someone seeking the truth in every story. When he revealed himself to her, the journalist let out an audible sigh. She took him between her lips, feeling his pulse, and began to work with frenetic dedication, kissing his penis and leaving lipstick marks before starting to suck it.

Michael leaned back in the leather armchair, opening the Wayne Enterprises reports with his other hand. He read about billion-dollar mergers and land acquisitions in Gotham while feeling Lois's tongue tracing precise, moist paths. The contrast was intoxicating: the coldness of the financial numbers on paper and the searing heat of Lois's mouth at his command.

"More to the left, Lois," he instructed, without taking his eyes off the document. She obeyed immediately, intensifying her sucking, her eyes closed as she surrendered completely to the role of servant. She could feel the vibration of his power—a tingling sensation that seemed to radiate from his skin and penetrate hers.

Suddenly, Claire, who had been watching the scene from the table, felt a wave of possessive jealousy as she watched his girlfriend performing oral sex on her owner.

Claire could no longer simply observe. Her desire, amplified by Michael's dominance, had transformed into an agonizing physical need. She propelled herself from the table with a fluid movement—her red cape billowing in the air—and slid until she was behind Michael.

With the force of an orbital impact, Claire embraced him around the neck, pressing her full breasts against his back as her tongue traced the line of his shoulder. She let out a low moan that vibrated against Michael's skin, while her hands slid down to his thighs, squeezing them with a force that would make any ordinary person faint from pain.

Lois, sensing Superwoman’s presence behind Michael, did not back down. On the contrary, she quickened her pace, using her tongue to explore every nerve, silently competing with Claire to see who could elicit the deepest reaction from that god-like man.

Michael lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes. The feeling was surreal: the strongest woman on the planet rising, reduced to pure instinct by her own will.

"You two..." Michael murmured, his voice hoarse, "...are being very efficient."

He let the Wayne Enterprises papers fall; they slid to the floor, forgotten. He grabbed Lois's hair, gently pulling her head back to look into her eyes, while he felt Claire's teeth sink into his trapezius muscle.

"Claire, bring Lois here," he ordered with a malicious smile.

Superwoman obeyed instantly. With a speed that made Lois dizzy, Claire lifted her—not to pull her away, but to throw her onto the mahogany desk, the same desk Claire had occupied minutes before. Lois fell onto the cold wood, her trousers disheveled, her chest heaving.

Claire positioned herself over Lois, her red cape creating a vibrant contrast against the journalist's pale skin. The superwoman looked at Michael, her eyes gleaming with a wild submission.

"What do you want us to do, Master?" Claire asked, her voice filled with longing.

Michael rose from his chair, the nakedness of his divinity now exposed and pulsating. He walked towards the desk, where the two women awaited him as offerings.

"I want you to forget who you are," he said, sliding his hand across Lois's face and then Claire's stomach. "Forget the Daily Planet; forget Krypton. Now, you are mere extensions of my pleasure."

He pushed Lois to the edge of the table, forcing her legs open, while Claire knelt at his feet, ready to serve him. Michael penetrated Lois with a single deep thrust, making the journalist arch her back and let out a cry that echoed throughout the meeting room. Simultaneously, Claire enveloped the base of his member with her mouth, creating a vacuum of pleasure that completely engulfed Michael.

The pace became frantic. Michael alternated his attention between the two women, using the table as support to execute movements that defined anatomy. He felt Lois's sweat-dampened skin beneath his hands and Claire's titanic strength; even in ecstasy, she struggled not to crush him, but to mold herself to his body. When Michael finally reached his climax, he released more than just physical tension; he released a wave of energy that caused the tempered glass windows of the office to crack simultaneously. Lois and Claire collapsed together onto the table, exhausted, their bodies intertwined in a layer of sweat.

(image credits: Lawless)