A Cultist Interrupts

Lois was gasping, eyes closed, lost in the moment, feeling her climax building, sweat dripping off her body, impaling herself further and further on the demonic statue's cok, so close to cumm—

"Oh my sweet Satan."

The reporter froze, cunt clamping on cock so hard it hurt. She opened her eyes.

A young woman was standing in front of her, a petite Asian twenty-something with a pixiecut and at least five piercings in each ear. She was holding a stack of folded black clothes—robes, if Lois Lane had to guess.

"Uh...hi," Lois instinctively smiled, hoping that it came across as more friendly and less psychotic. She struggled not to move, her pussy still spread wide on the stone shaft, desperation throbbing inside of her.

You could cut the awkwardness with a knife.

"Um, hi," the girl had a Metropolis accent—born and raised, Lois would guess. The reporter could see the wheels turning in her head, the young woman desperately trying to figure out how to address the situation at hand...and Lois knew the only way out of this was to take control of the situation.

"Thank Satan you're here," Lois said, projecting confidence. "I had to get started without you, but with both of us this will go a lot faster."

The young woman blinked. This was definitely not the script she'd had in her head. "I...uh...who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm the Keymaster," Lois lied smoothly. "Didn't they tell you? We have to prepare the idol for the ceremony."

The smooth brow crinkled, the thin lips frowned over her stack of robes. "The Mistress didn't say anything about that to me."

Lois sighed, letting her eyes roll theatrically. "Typical. Look, just take off your clothes and get up here. This really needs two acolytes to anoint the unholy yoni with the kalas." The reporter was riffing off typical occultism terms on the fly, hoping the young woman hadn't studied the cult's teaching too deeply to pick up on it. "I mean, if you really don't feel up to it, I can do it myself, but the Mistress will have both our asses if it isn't done before the ceremony."

The acolyte blinked again, then set down the robes. Now that the stack was out of the way, Lois could see she was wearing a one-piece dress that ended about mid-thigh, with no breasts to speak of, her long brown arms and shoulders bare, feet encased in some kind of massive sneakers.

With a single, simple motion she reached down and pulled the dress over her head.

Lois refrained from whistling. No panties and no shaving; her pubis was a dark triangle, nipples large and pink for all that her breasts were almost nonexistent. The body was thin, but not quite toned, ribs sticking out but no abs to speak of. She took a step or two toward Lois, so that they were staring eye-to-eye, faces almost at a level.

The reporter's heart thundered in her chest, hoping her bluff had worked...because otherwise, she was in a very compromising position.