Marry The Steel update

As his balls slapped against her buttocks with the force of a paddle spanking her—as if Clark needed to be any more thorough in domming her—Cat pushed her hips up to swallow every inch of his length. She worried momentarily that her cunt would be permanently enlarged by the enormous size of his prick, but she couldn’t care about that, not when his cock was still inside her. The deleteriously orgasmic haze that had descended over her was worth any pain Cat might have felt.

***

Lois was the life of the party, to the shock of Lana, who really didn’t know her well considering they were going to be married shortly. With far more ease than Lana would’ve thought possible, Lois set aside her hard-driving ambition, turning her boundless energy instead to enjoying herself and livening the party up. 

Of course, Lana had some idea of how beautiful Lois could look, but she was really dressed to the nines now, a brief and low-cut dress demonstrating just how desirable her body was underneath the crisply professional clothes she usually wore. She wasn’t even wearing pantyhose, exposing her smooth thighs under the high hem of her evening dress. Lana just had to stare at those long, slender legs as Lois moved around the club where their bachelorette party was being held, and she could tell Lois enjoyed the attention, from her and from everyone else who couldn’t take their eyes off of her.

And Lois was enjoying the attention, particularly that which she was getting from Mercy. During one interview long ago, Lex had confided in Lois about her sexual prowess, laughingly telling Lois that with Mercy’s sexual skill, he was certain she could have any man she wanted, but as long as she kept up her performance in the office, he didn't really care. Perry would’ve never let the prick’s words seen print, so Lois felt vindicated by proving Lex right—stealing Mercy away and giving her sexuality the appreciation it deserved.

She had to admit, though, that her friendliness towards Mercy wasn’t as magnanimous as she might pretend. Clark might not approve, but she couldn’t care less about reforming Mercy. She’d dated Lex once, and she knew Mercy was jealous, even if Lex was hardly stingy with his lovemaking. (Lois had found out; she had a Pulitzer.) 

Then she’d been Lex’s most vocal critic, and Mercy the attack dog that kept barking up Lois to keep her off her master’s throat. And it’d still been the same tension. Lex had offered her the seat at his right hand, and as many blowjobs as she’d given, Mercy had never rated the same offer. There’d been aggression on both their parts. Was it any wonder that with Lex out of the equation, the balance of power changed once more? She wanted to dominate Lois, Lois wanted to dominate her—it was exciting in a way their interactions hadn’t been before. 

When the DJ began playing a slow melody, Lois made her move to Mercy. She had a wild desire to suck that tight cunt that Lex had told her so much about. 

"Hi Mercy," she smiled at her. "Do you want my body?"

“What do you mean?” Mercy asked, her scowling poker face still up even when she was off the clock.

Lois spelled it out in slow, drawn-out words. “Do you want to hold my… honestly spectacular body… and pretend we’re dancing?” She finished off with a suggestive giggle.

More from the aggressive way Lois was flirting with her than from her actual words, Mercy took Lois in her arms. Subtly arching her hips forward, Lois moved her groin against Mercy’s. Lois leaned her head back and smiled up into the Amazonian bodyguard’s eyes. Then she pressed their bodies together harder, grinding her pelvis to add a certain violence to the motion. 

Mercy settled her hand low on Lois’s back as they danced, and she drew Lois closer, adding to the pressure between them. Dancing slowly in the darkened room, it felt as if they couldn’t be any closer while still wearing clothes.

“You’re a good dancer,” Lois smiled, undulating herself slowly against the warmth she felt growing between Mercy’s thighs.

“Is that what you call this?” Mercy asked with an almost taunting grin. For all her formidability, she was enjoying herself. Just like she’d enjoyed playing the bouncer keeping Lois out of the proverbial club…

“What else would you call it?” Lois teased right back.

Mercy dropped her hand down to Lois’s ass. God, she'd love to kiss and suck and even bite those sweetly rounded buttocks—ram her tongue to the hilt up that succulent pink cunt…

“I’d call it fucking,” Mercy laughed. 

“If you think this is fucking,” Lois said, “you should see what I can do.”

Mercy just smiled, another kind of poker face. Holding each other closely, they danced in silence, still feeling the warmth of each other’s bodies and knowing they could only get hotter.

***

"Lover, fuck me!" Cat Grant moaned drunkenly, slurring her words with such befuddlement that the cum Clark had fed her could’ve been 180-proof. But it was only the jagged spikes of pleasure she had no idea how to process that could be blamed for her addled state. "Oh, lover, fuck me good!"

She had forgotten his name. That wasn’t a reflection on Cat; she had forgotten her own name as well.

***

The strip club was a lavish, spectacular affair, with plenty of nooks and crannies left over from the building’s days as a hotel and a speakeasy. Between Lois’s skills as an investigator and Mercy generally being a commando, they easily found a quiet, out of the way spot. Then the sexual tension simply simmered over.

Lois crouched over Mercy’s muscular build. Her own athletic body covered Mercy’s, both women finding enough voluptuous curves in the other to keep them interested. Lois’s legs bent at the knees as she lowered her womanhood down to Mercy’s upturned face. She rocked and writhed on Mercy’s tongue, her curvy buttocks pressing inward as she was rutted forward into the lesbian pleasure of Mercy’s mouth.

Mercy felt an unfamiliar want, alien to someone who could have any urge or greed satisfied so long as she faithfully served her master. But this was something she couldn’t even begin to understand. Something she didn’t want to understand. It was like she was looking at Lois with a man’s lustful eyes…

In her arousal, Mercy squeezed her smooth thighs together. For all her strength, she couldn’t keep Lois away as her once-hated rival now returned the service Mercy was performing on her. Lips and tongue worked over Mercy’s sex and she moaned heatedly. She’d tried to deny Lois the satisfaction of knowing just how enjoyable she found the reporter’s wicked tongue, but that conviction had lasted only seconds as Lois’s skill attacked her wet pussy and erect clit. And her moans only grew in volume the more Lois tongued her cunt.

As Mercy heard her own cries growing shrill, the rational side of her mind warned her of things getting out of hand. While she had participated in threesomes on Lex’s behalf, she’d never felt any sexual desire for another woman, only the joy of fulfilling Lex’s wishes in as efficient a manner as possible. It surprised her—almost frightened—that she was becoming so aroused now… with Lois Lane of all people.

But there was no denying it. Mercy’s pussy had never felt so wet. She thought she could take Lois’s balled fist if Lois tried it, that it would just slip into her. Her climax was close and she fought to delay it. She wanted to come at the same time as Lois, not give into her by coming first. But there was no denying how artful Lois could be. Whatever rivalry and frustration Mercy had felt had been transformed into a roaring blaze inside her thighs. Suddenly, it was an explosion.

Her powerful body stiffened with the onset of climax. Her clitoris was a glorious flashpoint as the heat from it blossomed through her body. Lois lifted her lapping tongue away from Mercy’s clit, and Mercy could only thank her for sensing that to keep pleasuring her while her orgasm raged would be far too intense. She moaned her gratitude into Lois’s pussy, her voice contorted with each quivering delight she felt as erotic heat coursed out of her, her clenched pussy at the center of a liquid inferno that was spilling out of her, onto Lois’s face in splashes Lois was erotically devouring. 

She shivered and shuddered on top of the sweat-stained carpet she lay on. Her climax peaked in one last delirious fluttering of her fleeing juices, then it was fading, leaving only a lingering blush of warmth. Mercy’s head fell dreamily back, dazed, as the tension leaked out of her body. 

It took long minutes for her to recover from her orgasm, but Lois quite enjoyed watching every minute of Mercy realizing what real passion was. Only when Mercy’s arousal finally outweighed her satedness again did Lois put her back on the job of tonguing her to climax.

And she had a feeling Mercy enjoyed that too.

***

A few seconds after he’d come—or rather, after he’d stopped coming, for there’d been long moments when it seemed like he would never stop filling Cat’s sex up to the brim he had already so thoroughly stretched out—Clark pulled out of her and rolled onto his back. His broad chest was glistening with sweat, the burly hair there forming wild pattern. 

Cat reached over and stroked him, pulling at the lush growth of hair. Its sweaty stickiness clung to her hand as she rolled it down his muscular body. When she came to his trim waist, she paused for a moment, as if fearful that she would find his manhood still erect and demanding more from her. More that she would be happy to give despite her exhaustion, despite the physical pain she’d begun to feel on the last lap of their fucking no matter how considerate he was. 

But she couldn’t resist. She had to know, if not let him stretch her to the delectable limit once more. She inched her hand down to his groin and felt the stickiness of his member against the inside of her palm. It was thankfully, resoundingly—somewhat disappointingly—limp.

He’s mortal after all, Cat thought with a giggle, and having convinced herself that she had slain the dragon, she allowed her eyes to roll back in her head.

A few moments, she felt his fingers toying with her clit. Her body leapt back to arousal with a painful intensity that she both feared and welcomed.

***

Kara wandered through Clark’s apartment—her apartment too, now—though she’d hardly be caught dead living here. No, as soon as possible, she’d be prevailing upon Clark to live up at the Fortress, in civilized conditions. This place was practically infected, overflowing with sporal indications of Kal’s schoolboy crush on both the Lane and Lang women. 

They were in just about every photograph, one or the other, the redhead hanging off a young and deliciously boyish Clark—how she would’ve loved to break him in at that age—and the brunette with a more recognizably mature Clark, more standoffish with him, but there was clearly chemistry. No wonder Kara would have to wean him off of her. The man had let himself grow attached, overly fond of his dumb animal, and really far too sentimental for a decent Kryptonian to be. She’d humor him, in understanding of his poor upbringing. But he would soon see her superiority to any woman he’d known before. And, when she had him wrapped around her little finger—such a charming Earth phrase—she would just see about him letting his pets into the house.

For now, she would wait. She had been locked out of Lane and Lang’s gathering, like their tribal socializing would react to any outsider, and she knew Kal was busy allowing a similarly primitive ritual to center around him. She, with her superior breeding and intellect, would have to go wanting, but that was fine. She’d indulge Kal. Up to a point. When he came back, she fully expected to give him another demonstration of her supremacy. Let him sample the inferior wares of the human females. It would just make the contrast all the more striking.

That would take a few hours yet. She needed sex now, not when Clark arrived home, and she hardly trusted one of the primitives to satisfy her, as much as she’d lowered herself to play with some of Kal’s pets. But what good wife wouldn’t try to take an interest in her husband’s hobbies? 

She pulled her panties down and climbed into Clark’s bed. It stunk of human, making it clear that Lane and Lang had shared it with him numerous times—how fitting that she would have to get Kal a proper Kryptonian model, and burn this old one with all its evidence of his perversion. 

Kara spread her legs and undid her blouse. She reached down to her cunt with one hand, using the other to rub her nipples into stiffness. It took barely any time at all. She took her wet fingers from her pussy and ran them over her lips, knowing that Clark would love the flavor when she welcomed him home. 

Then she dropped both hands back between her legs, veeing them inside her thighs, her arms pushing against her breasts and giving delicious pressure to her hardened nipples. She used one finger to stroke her clit and with the other hand she played with the folds of her cunt. Her own touch felt exquisite—she could barely pull away to get her blouse open while she masturbated.

She was going to fuck Clark’s brains out when he got home. She would suck his cock until there was nothing left to surge down her throat. She would let him fuck her asshole and cum anywhere he wanted. She knew it would drive him crazy. It drove her crazy too.

The thing about men was that they had to be managed, Kara knew. Even a Superman. He thought he loved Lois and Lana, but Kara could satisfy him in a way they never could, even together. Clark’s puppyish infatuation with them would dissipate and he’d be all hers, Kara thought as she fondled the sensitive hood of her clitoris. She closed her eyes, biting her lower lip. It will feel so good, she said to herself as she spread her thighs wide open.

She thrust two fingers into her cunt, deep inside. Oh, yes, it felt good already. Not as good as Clark, but good enough. Maybe this was how it felt for him to fuck one of those human sows. Kara used her thumb on her clit and gave her breasts a squeeze, like Clark might as he fucked her. 

Kara was wiggling her ass around on the bed now, telling herself she would pull no punches. She would satisfy Clark better than Lois ever had, even if it meant breaking every piece of furniture in this hovel. She knew how. She had a tight cunt clamping shut on her fingers right now. And she just had to think of Clark and it got wet enough to soak the sheets. Like him smell his human whores on it now.

There was a candle on the nightstand next to the bed. Kara picked it up. She didn’t care for the primitive human dildos, which were far too weak for the folds of her superhumanly strong pussy, but anything nice and thick would do right now. She laid the blunt end against her pussy and thrust it in, then pulled it back out, rutting it into herself like it was a cock as she played with clit at the same time.

She enjoyed immensely how the candle plunged into her clutching pussy, even if it was nothing compared to how Kal could ravage her if he wasn’t spending so much time on lower lifeforms. They could literally fuck all day—she could even masturbate in front of him. He could X-ray her, watching how deep it went into her womanhood, and knowing that it could never reach the depths he did.

So why would he want to be with Lois and Lana for one minute when he could be with her right now? Didn’t he realize that she was his, he was hers, and that they belonged together? Kara moved the candle more slowly now, as if he were watching her, as if she were showing off for him. She relished the teasing pull on her clit every time it left her pussy. The wax was melting with the heat of her aroused sex, running juicily out of her. Kara lay back on the pillow and moaned softly as she forced the entire length of wax into the furnace of her cunt.

On impulse, she opened her eyes and saw the mirror on the dresser opposite the bed. She spread her legs to it and watched her reflection fuck itself. Her cuntlips spread open before her eyes, letting in the candle. She was built to take cock and Clark’s was the best she could have. She forced herself to keep her eyes open as she fucked herself. Clark would be home soon and knowing that he would be continuing what she was doing right now was the only thing that stopped her from bringing herself off. She didn’t want to come alone. She wanted to be tender and juicy and slick when they fucked. She wanted even that thick skull his human upbringing had given him to get how perfectly his cock belonged inside her.

The candle was melting faster now, molten wax caressing her sensitive folds as it crawled out of her. She churned the candlestick inside herself more slowly. No more friction. She needed to wait for Clark. She trembled with the need to climax. It wouldn’t be easy to hold back her lust, but that was just one more way she was a superior being. She controlled her urges, they did not control her.

The mirror showed her how her pussy was becoming darkly reddish with passionate blood. She watched her reflection intently as she buried the candle inside herself for a long moment. Every slow stroke she gave herself pumped melted wax down her pussy, each drop of it tingling with warmth. But it was nothing compared to how much cum Clark would give her. He had to hold back with Lois and Lana, but with her—she could take everything. And what she couldn’t take, she would wear…

Her excitement mounted. She had to let herself climax. Just once—

The candle was slippery and soft, almost indistinguishable from how wet she was. She didn’t care, she knew Kal would love it. A nice wet cunt, gushing with cream. She worked the candle in and out of herself, staring at the wanton sight in the mirror. It was enough to mesmerize her. Her clit was hard and swollen, angry-looking, her hot blood swelling it to twice its normal size. That was something else men loved. An easy target…

Her orgasm hurdled toward her. She kept her eyes on her reflection. She wanted to see what Clark would see when he ate her pussy, when he made her come. But she couldn’t stop herself—at the moment of orgasm, her eyes shut tight, glorious blackness coming alive with color inside her eyelids. And despite her decision to stop after one orgasm, despite the candle itself being reduced to drops of melted wax, she used both hands, fingers going all the way into her bubbling cauldron. She rolled her head across the pillow as she focused on her need, her paradoxical need to please herself while convincing herself that only Clark could really satisfy her.

Kara exhausted herself with her inner debate. She lost count of her orgasms. But her stamina could not be faulted. By the time she lay back to catch her breath, the room was dark. Evening had come while she had. Clark had to be home any minute, but she was a mess, her body covered in sweat, her golden hair wildly mussed. She would have to clean herself up. She couldn’t let Kal see her like this.

But she was a superior being. She could give herself a few moments to enjoy the afterglow of her self-pleasure. Then she would clean herself up. Once she had closed her eyes and made herself a little more comfortable…

***

Clark knew how to hold his own as far as fucking went, that was for sure. Cat’s sex still ached from how ferociously he’d taken her, but it was a good ache, a sweet one. Like he’d known exactly how much she could comfortably take, pushed her to the very limit, but been too considerate to overshoot it. 

How would he feel if he knew that three other men had used her body that same day? One had contented himself with eating her pussy, another with shooting cum onto her face while they watched dirty movies, and the third had engaged her for an hour of fairly normal sex, seasoned by a little fantasy and wish-fulfillment. Ron Troupe and his Wonder Woman yearnings. He'd been a little rough today. His fingers had left the bruise that had fortunately faded from her breast before Clark could notice it. 

Next time she'd warn him about marking the merchandise. But, oh, God, he'd torn off her clothes, and thrown her on the bed, and then rammed his cock up her, and if he was getting off by pretending to screw Wonder Woman, well, she could dig it too, and as his tight, grasping fist closed over her breast, she found herself lunging up, meeting his eager thrusts, her cunt melting around his hard, energetic cock. She'd scarcely noticed the pressure on her teat. Afterwards he'd even paid for the halter top and hot pants he'd torn apart undressing her.

Cat wanted to think that the knowledge wouldn't offend or sicken Clark—that, on the contrary, it would make him stare at her with a newfound lust. That he'd realize the basics of the situation, too. It was exciting to make secret appointments with men, even more exciting to meet them afternoons at various hotel rooms and fuck their brains out. The dining and luxury suites and private flights to exotic locales were nice too. But it didn't mean anything. It was just something she did for kicks and amusement and–well, for adventure, too. She wouldn’t be much of a gossip columnist if she didn’t make some gossip of her own.

Would Clark understand that? She didn't know, and Cat decided that it would be far better he never found out. Anyway, it couldn't last much longer. Just today she'd found herself a little blasé about meeting three repeat customers, knowing what they wanted, how to give it to them. There was only so exciting they could be when they weren’t… him.

Well, she thought philosophically, if it loses its excitement, I'll find something else to do. Maybe I'll go back to masturbation. God, how long had it been since she'd needed to frig herself on a regular basis? Since high school, at least! Maybe she'd buy one of those weird new vibrators and a lot of batteries and spend an afternoon trying to short-circuit the machine. Or maybe she'd find some other girl with nothing to fill her days with and see if the lucky lady would fill with her. With Clark, too. Surely Lois and Lana didn’t share him like that. They hated each other. But if they did, well—two women at once weren’t so different from three, were they?

She snuggled closer to Clark, felt his warmth against her body, and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to descend. 

Clark held her for a few moments, waiting for her brain to totally cool (for lack of a better word). He’d heard the chorus a seconds ago, and been about to make an excuse to answer the summons of his shouted nom du guerre, when Cat had yawned and began to lose consciousness. It was costing him, waiting for her to totally fall asleep, but it would take him longer to make up an excuse to get dressed and leave. 

He helped Cat along by pursing his lips and whistling a low-frequency tone pitched to her circadian rhythm. He’d been practicing it on Lois and Lana, and they both swore by it knocking them out for a good night’s sleep after a long, hard day. Lois had told him it was her second favorite way to get to sleep.

Already resting, it only took a few moments for Cat to slip into REM sleep, boneless and virtually comatose. Moving at a speed too fast for her nerves to process before it was over, he stood up, moved Cat from his lap, set her down in the chair he’d been occupying, and covered her with the leather jacket she’d been wearing as ‘the Black Canary.’ With that attended to, he stripped off his clothes. And people badmouthed him for wearing his underwear on the outside—if it weren’t for Cat taking his trunks as red briefs, he would’ve had a lot of explaining to do.

***

Lois worked furiously for Mercy’s satisfaction, even as she rocked her hips against Mercy’s rubbing palm, both their bodies swinging and swaying with the tidal flow of the unsteady floor. It had become very treacherous footing with a bottle of tequila divided between them, on them—licked away…

Mercy kept sucking and kissing and fingering as Lois pleased her, plunging fingers deep into the other woman to show that she welcomed the intensity of the assault, and she could feel that flesh she’d wanted to both touch and bruise growing tingly with the pleasure it was feeling.

Mercy felt a wave of revulsion. In the frenzy of their sex, she had been unable to stop thinking about Lois and that sweet little cunt that the men of Metropolis just couldn’t get enough of. But now…

Now she still couldn’t stop thinking about it. Or tasting it. Or devouring it…