Bad Slut Lessons

"Lois, could you hold my cock as I take a piss?"

"What?" Lois Lane swiveled in her chair and stared at Clark Kent as if he had gone mad. She couldn't believe her ears. Here they were, in her cubicle at the Daily Planet, and he had just...

His cock slapped her cheek, hard enough to knock her out of her chair and onto all fours.

Bad sluts aren't eager to help when it comes to cock.

In a daze, she felt him slip the collar around her neck. A little tug and she trotted alongside him, on all fours, into the bathroom. The reporter fearfully looked left and right, hoping nobody could see her, not sure why the hell she was doing this...except she feared another cock-slap.

The big Kansan led her into the bathroom, all the way to the urinal...one of those old-fashioned white porcelain deals that ran all the way to the floor. She turned and stared at his cock hanging out of his pants...it was at least six inches long limp, and over an inch thick at the base. Circumcized, but there was a white ring of cheese around the glans. The rope stank rolled over Lois, making her crinkle her nose in disgust.

"It's filthy..."

"So clean it," he said, voice strangely affectless.

"No, Clark, really it stinks, it..."

His hand grabbed the back of her hair, pulling the raven tresses back so hard Lois thought it was going to be ripped out of her skull. With easy strength, he fed his filthy pecker into her mouth, burying her nose in his greasy black pubic hair.

Bad sluts don't keep their cocks clean.

She gagged. Wanted to vomit. The smegma crumbled in her mouth, and it was all Lois could do not to retch...but something worse happened, as her saliva dissolved the horrible mess, and the piss-taste filled the reporter's mouth.

Clark began to grow hard. His swelling cock began to hit the roof of her mouth, and then his big head jerked her head forward and back, slamming the half-erect prick painfully toward the back of her tongue, and Lois began to gag, foul drool slobbering past her lips, barely able to breathe, vomit rising in her gorge.

"I can't piss like this," Clark rumbled. "Turn around and let me fuck you."

He released her hair, and Lois desperately turned around, trying to crawl away from him. One powerful paw caught her pants and pulled them down. She tugged, and there was a rip of cloth as her panties gave way, and pants around her knees Lois made a **** dash for the door...but in moments he was one her, pinning her down with his weight.

Bad sluts wear underwear. Bad sluts aren't ready to fuck at any time.

The slut-reporter could almost hear the words in her head, mouth moving along with them as Clark slid his big dick into her dry. She was a bad slut. Never wet enough, never ready. Squealed in pain as he **** the mushroom tip inside of her, hoping her cunt wouldn't tear, but unable to fend him off.

She howled like a cat, fingernails breaking against the floor tiles as she pawed, trying to get away. The pain lanced through her violated cunt, and the worst part was her traitorous body was starting to get wet, a weird sense of anticipation filled her, a sickening pleasure amid the pain and degradation as her body betrayed her...

"Are you on birth control?" He asked.

"No..." Lois heard her own voice say. Her voice was hoarse, her flailings weak. He was too big, too strong, she couldn't fight him, couldn't stop him, couldn't do anything as the head of his cock punched deep.

Bad sluts fight being bred.

Clark's thrust pressed Lois Lane's breasts into the urinal. He grunted, slamming her hard...she was so close to cumming, so sick at the thought...and then she felt the warm wet splash in her pussy, the excess dripping down into the toilet from her overflowing cunt. Lois closed her eyes in despair, clamped her pussy to keep as much as the jizz inside of her. Bad sluts didn't hold the cum in. Bad sluts were punished...