No One Saves Lois Lane

So this is how it ends, Lois Lane thought, as the blind animal panic quelled. All the strength seemed to leave her body. She couldn't move her arms and legs. Could barely keep her eyes open as she slumped against the wall of the elevator.

Tonya Wong sucked on the recumbent reporter's pussy like an engorged tit. The pale, nearly naked flesh of the tiny Asian woman was now ruddy and flush with life. Latched onto the reporter's cunny, Lois could feel the powerful suction as the blood in her body was drawn into the vampire, one mouthful at a time.

Too much blood, too fast. Dimly, Lois fought for consciousness, but it was a losing battle. Her vision already greyed out at the edges. Soon, she knew, she would pass out. She had seen it happen before when people bled out. The blood was the life, and when they lost too much...that was it.

The beating of her own heart was thunderous in her ears. It seemed to slow. The mighty muscle struggling to pump what wasn't there. Rust seemed to fill the reporter's veins as her body's systems shut down. The pain and pleasure of it all grew more distant as slowly, achingly, her body was starved of the life-giving blood it needed.

No one was there to save Lois Lane.

Not when soft flesh pried her mouth open. Dimly, Lois was aware of a tit coming toward her face, small and soft. A single slash of a sharp fingernail opened a wound just above the nipple. In Lois Lane's greyed-out vision, the blood that flowed sluggishly from the wound looked black and thick as pitch.

Tonya Wong clamped Lois Lane's mouth to her bleeding breast, and one terrible word resounded in the reporter's ears:

"Drink."