Strapped To The Chair

Blearily, too late, Lois Lane tried to struggle. But every movement threatened to interrupt the delicate equilibrium of her system. Her stomach roiled and protested, and the women holding her were strong and apparently used to last minute plays of this sort. They manhandled her into the chair quickly an effectively.

The chair had a hole in the seat, and Lois could feel bare air on her exposed pussy as the women strapped her arms and legs down to the chair. Another strap went beneath her breasts, tying her firmly to the chair's back, making her slightly bloated belly stand out.

Last was her head, one of the women holding the reporter firmly as a strap went across her neck. Lois almost panicked then, swallowing convulsively just to make sure she could breathe, not liking the pressure against her throat. Finally, a strap across her forehead brought her firmly against the high back of the chair, unable to move her head more than an inch in any direction.

Hard fingers gripped the reporter's jaw, forcing it open as a hose was pressed against her lips.

"Don't struggle, Lois," Angelica Blaze said. The reporter's eyes turned to see that the dickgirl was supervising her bondage. "Just let it happen. Otherwise you'll hurt yourself."

Lois tried to bite down on the hose, but the plastic was too hard, too thick. She felt the smooth, rounded tip of it press against the back of her throat...and it wasn't stopping. The reporter tasted something oily and medicinal, tongue playing around the hose, and realized they'd lubed it with something.

"It's a bit crude, if I'm honest," Blaze told her. "But if you fight, we might puncture a lung. Just relax, and we'll have a straight line down to your stomach."

The reporter wanted to struggle. She could feel the hard, slimy length of the thing slip into and down her throat, and for a moment panic gripped her, but she could breathe through her nose...and track the long, thin, hard thing that made its way down into her chest.

Just pay attention, Lane, she told herself, in full captured-reporter mode, which is distinct and more proactive than your average damsel-in-distress mentality. Wait for the opportunity, than seize it! Remember every detail for later.

They fixed a gag around the end of the tube hanging out of her mouth, and tied it around the back of Lois Lane's head. She glowered, unable to stop them.

The women moved away as Angelica Blaze closed in on the helpless, bound reporter. Her nails pressed into Lois Lane's bare thighs, scraping lightly toward her knees. Those dark eyes fixed on the reporter's own, trying to read whatever was in there.

"I knew that you would come here, Lois. From the moment you walked into my club, it was inevitable. Now that you are within my power, I could do anything to you...and there is absolutely nothing you could do to stop it. No Man of Steel flying to your rescue this time. This place is shielded from his senses..."

One hand came up to caress the reporter's cheek. Lois tried to flinch, but the bindings seemed to tighten, biting hard into the reporter's flesh for a moment.

"...but mere **** and **** is crude. No, I will give you a choice, Lois Lane. And that choice will make your suffering all the sweeter."