Epilogue: Reward

"Stand straight," Blaze said. "Lift your chin and look straight ahead."

Naked except for her collar, Lois Lane did as she was told.

The chain was thin, the steel links small. The strap of her collar ran down between the reporter's breasts. Her mistress snapped the chain into place through the loop at the end of the strap. Angie's fingers flipped up the ring through the reporter's clitoral hood, and attached the other end of the chain. A line of steel connecting the reporter's clit and neck. So that the slightest movement would tug at it.

"Not too tight?"

"No, mistress," Lois said, already breathless.

"Good. Now, instructions: Do not take off the chain. Do not loosen the chain. Do not touch your clit or pussy, until I order it. Understood?"

"Yes, mistress," Lois smiled. "I understand."

It was just a game. One for adults, something to sweeten what was otherwise a usual romance. Angie had been staying over every night this week, and Lois had found her clothes in the closet, groceries she didn't buy in the fridge, another toothbrush next to her own. Dishes and clothes mysteriously cleaned, and at the first of the month an envelope of cash that covered half the rent.

Lois Lane knew she should feel that Angie Blaze had violated her space, just moving in like that. They hadn't talked about it. Yet there was something thrilling, when Angie put on her dom voice. Gave Lois her instructions, her little assignments. It was all part of the game, and yet like any game there were rewards. Angie could always surprise her, and though the games were getting more daring, Lois had to admit that the danger thrilled her.

She walked the streets of Metropolis with her little secret hidden from view, by an ascot and a dark blouse and a tight-fitting skirt. No one could see the chain...but they could see her face. The little blush that came, if she moved her head back too far, because it would tug at her clit. Lois wasn't about to do any gymnastics, but she knew if she did she might pull too hard...and the chain wouldn't give before her hood did. The reporter knew she could seriously hurt herself, if she wasn't careful.

Which is why she was so wet by lunch time.

Small talk with Cat Grant and Clark Kent—Lois picked a blonde hair off of his suit and he blushed when she asked who the lucky girl was, but didn't say. Jimmy Olsen as in his turtle costume today, and Lois gave him a smile and didn't ask. Perry White grumbled and handed out assignments. The afternoon found her out on the beat, chasing down leads for her next story about a minor LexCorp scandal...

Every step seemed to pull at the clit ring. Lois had to be careful not to hunch over in public. Back straight, face forward.

Don't look up if you can help it, Lane, she told herself. And don't touch yourself. Mistress will know.

She would, too. Lois didn't know how she knew, but she always did. But her body...even if she didn't touch herself, the jolt of her feet on the pavement, the vibration of the bus she took back downtown...the first orgasm came while Lois was sitting down for the afternoon meeting at the Daily Planet. The reporter could feel it coming on, and knew that there was no way to hold it off, no time to excuse herself. It just rolled over her and she flushed and shivered, the pussy juice running down her legs.

"Lane, are you alright?" Perry chewed on an unlit cigar. "You look flushed."

"Hay fever, Chief," Lois said, and gave a theatrical sniffle. "Forgot to take my antihistamines today."

He grunted. "Did you get anywhere on the LexCorp piece?"

The meeting ground on. Lois tried not to lean back. She had managed to avoid making too much of a scene once, but she wasn't sure she could do it again...and the reporter knew she was much more sensitive after cumming once.

It hadn't always been that way. Yet since she'd met Blaze...Lois had discovered things about herself. Was still discovering things. At times, the reporter thought that Angie had some plan for her, some image of what Lois could be...that she was molding and training Lois for some specific purpose. Like the reporter was more than her lover, but her little project.

Lois wondered if that was what love was like. She had heard of women who taken on men to improve them...get them to dress better, act better, take their vitamins and go to the doctor. To be the person that they knew they could be. As a girlfriend, Lois had never been interested in doing that to her boyfriends, but now...Lois could almost see the attraction. Blaze made sure she ate right, exercised regularly, and overcame certain bad habits that had come with being a bachelorette. The second orgasm came on the walk home. All the necks craned as Superman flew over the street, and like an idiot, Lois looked up with them. The sharp movement of her neck had tugged roughly at the chain, and suddenly Lois Lane's legs were wobbly, and she leaned against a building for support, cunt leaking. She stayed there to catch her breath, pretending she'd stopped to examine one of her two-inch heels.

It was dark by the time Lois got home. She smelled food...something spicy...and there was a box on the table. Pale pink, with a bright red ribbon. Lois staggered in and took off her shoes. Her panties felt like a swamp. Angie came out of the kitchen, grinning like the devil, wearing nothing but an apron.

"Were you a good girl?" She asked.

"Yes, mistress," Lois said.

"I knew you would be," the smile stretched a little wider. "Such obedience deserves its rewards..."

Lois staggered forward to the table. She opened the box...and at first she couldn't understand what she was looking at. Like two big, clear water balloons.

"400cc saline implants. They can be overfilled to 600cc." Angie was behind Lois, unzipping her skirt, sliding it off of the reporter's hips.

"A breast augmentation?" Lois said, unable to keep the shock out of her voice.

"Your first appointment is next week; then we'll schedule the surgery. We'll want to go bigger gradually. Give your skin time to stretch."

The skirt dropped down to Lois Lane's ankles. Her panties followed. The reporter sighed as the chain was unhooked from her throbbing clit.

"How...how big am I going to get, mistress?" Lois asked.

"That depends," Angie spread the reporter's ass cheek to admire Lois Lane's dripping cunt. "On how well you obey me. You do want to obey me, don't you love?"

"Yes, mistress," Lois Lane said, leaning over the table as Angie buried her face in the reporter's pussy from behind. "Thank you, mistress..."