Bet

Lois Lane through the chip with the collar in the pot.

"Show your cards," she said, laying down her own hand.

Lois: Q♣ Q♦ J♦ A♣ 8♣

Blaze: A♠ 10♥ 7♦ 7♠ 7♣

The reporter felt her heart in her throat.

"Well played," was all she could manage.

Blaze raked the chips in.

"Lean back," she ordered, holding three chips in her hand. "This will be over quickly...and mostly painless."

The demon dropped the first chip on the table in a shower of sparks. Lois Lane stared down, past her enhanced bosom, between her legs at her pussy. In a shower of dark sparks, her neatly-trimmed pubic hair evaporated—easily, painlessly, leaving her smooth and clean as if newly waxed. Then she felt the hairs standing up on her neck like a static charge...and seven points of pain shot through her labia, fading almost immediately. But Lois felt a weight, dragging her nether parts down: six heavy black steel rings, the hoops each an inch in diameter, three piercing each side of her labia...and through her clitoral hood, hanging down over her pussy, a ring of pure gold.

Like the rings piercing her nipples, the reporter could see no hinge or break. They looked permanent, unremovable.

Lois didn't see the second chip drop, though she could feel when it happened. A burning line etched itself along her sternum, swooping down and around her ribs. Reaching down, she hefted her breasts up, lifting the nipples as high as she could—higher than she ever could before, she noted—and saw the under-bra tattoo, in the same style as her tramp stamp.

Nothing that can't be hidden with the right clothing, Lois noted with a frown. It could have been a lot worse...a facial piercing or tattoo would have marked her for life.

"Lovely," Blaze spoke, and Lois stared up at her, still hefting her breasts, the heavy ring-laden nipples spilling over her hands. "You're becoming just the kind of woman I love the most," the demon said.

And dropped the final chip, which vanished in a shower of black sparks.

Tight leather gripped Lois Lane's neck. Not uncomfortably tight...it simply rested there, about two inches high, a little wider in the front to dip down into the space between her collar bone, a black metal ring hanging down the front. The reporter explored it with her fingers...no clasp or catch. Perfect and seamless as though it had been there always.

"Same game?" Blaze smiled.