The Cage Is Not Empty

Dark hands grabbed at the bars of the cage. Lois Lane felt her breath quicken, impressions washing over her too quickly to process. Long dreads. Slick brown skin, bulging with muscles. Wild eyes. Flaring nostrils, pressed up against the side of the cage. A dark prick, the tip a bright pink against the dark brown of the rest of the hard, drooling cock.

"Bitch," the woman said, and tugged at the chain. "Meet Puppy."

Lois looked again. Beneath the hanging dreads and beard, she could just make out the thick black collar around the caged man's neck. A kind of rubber cage encased the base of his cock, so that the swollen testicles hung out one opening, the skin taut, veins standing out. The prick looked painfully swollen, the rubbery skin on the pale pink head ready to split.

"Puppy stays in his cage when I's not home," the woman tugged Lois further into the room. "He get lonely. Needs relief, eh? Bitch like you, made to give my puppy some relief. Look, Puppy?"

Lois felt those fingers between her legs, sliding in from behind to spread her pussy lips. Flashing the wet pink insides at the man in the cage. He raised himself as high as he could, though he could not stand in the cage. His hips were jittering, humping the air, slinging long lines of precum onto the floor...which, Lois realized, was covered with newspapers. Yesterday's Daily Planet.

With a momentary shudder, Lois recognized her own picture on the paper. Yesterday's column.

The woman tugged Lois closer to the cage. Clipped the dog chain onto the top with a D-ring, then began to fiddle with the lock.

"Now...you gonna keep Puppy company, aye? Me...I want to see you make him happy...real happy..." A dark hand rattled the cage. "You sit back now, Puppy! Sit!"

Automatically, the man's demeanor changed. He squatted on his haunches at the far end of the cage, drooling cock pointing obscenely upwards, his hanging sack almost brushing the floor.

The door swung open.

"In you go now," the cabbie said.