The seven bdsm nights of superman

[bardhal]

Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or related characters and am not making a profit from this story. The characters are owned by DC Comics.

CHAPTER 6: The Sixth Night (part 2)

As they entered the reception room they were greeted by applause and hoots of laughter from the assembled guests, men in tuxedoes and women in elegant cocktail dresses, the lords and ladies of world of crime, astonished and delighted at the pathetic sight of their great foe reduced to a travesty, a thing of ridicule and contempt. As Luthor led him around the room, the leash pulling hard on the distended frenulum, they derided him, spat on him, threw their drinks in his face, slapped his ass, called him "fag", "asshole", and "slut". The laughter was almost unbearable.

After a full circuit of the room, Luthor offered the leash to others. The first to take it was Jimmy Oliverio, whose secret, illegal casinos Superman had busted just three years earlier.

"Ok you bitch, now it's time for a little fun!"

Jimmy grabbed the end of the leash and began to run around the perimeter of the room, the gleeful guests parting for him as he ran as hard as his short fat frame would allow him. Slow as Jimmy was, there was no way Superman could match his pace. The leash strained at his cock as he desperately tried to keep up with his bowlegged shuffling waddle. Tears of laughter ran down the cheeks of the criminals as they watched Superman's distraught attempts to run and heard his tormented howls. Camera phones were everywhere in evidence as the unbelievable antics were recorded for later viewing by gangs around the world.

Puffing and sweating an elated Jimmy handed the leash over to another of the guests, a tall, dark-haired woman with lined face and a fierce demeanour. Iris McVicar, the Irish assassin whose nest of murderers had been broken and imprisoned by Superman in the same year that Jimmy's casinos had been busted.

"Well you fucking pathetic excuse for a man, it's time for you to dance to my tune." And she gave the leash hard tug. Superman yelped in pain and gave a small jump in the direction of the leash, then groaned out loud as he inadvertently pulled against the rings in his ball-sack and nipples. Iris backed away, and gave the leash another hard yank, and again Superman was forced to leap as best he could. Around the room she went, backing away and jerking on the leash. Superman struggled for breath, drool flowed around the ball-gag and he gasped and moaned. Iris' cruel game was worsened by the continued laughter, slapping, spitting and kicking as he passed the other guests. Eventually Luthor took the leash again and led Superman to the centre of the room. He unhooked the leash from the frenulum and removed the ball-gag.

"Th..thank.. you.. " breathed Superman.

"Haha. Don't thank me too soon fool. The night is still young!" Superman looked up into Luthor's grinning face, then felt an almost unbearable biting sting on his bare ass. Again it made him leap involuntarily and again he felt the sharp pull on his nipples and scrotum. He turned and saw one of Luthor's wrestlers standing behind him holding a long slender cane, flicking it in the air in front of him.

Again without warning he felt a second sharp sting on his ass, making him leap a yelp again. He turned and saw the other wrestler thug, grinning and also holding a cane but no sooner had he eyed the burly hood than he felt the cane of the first thug sting him yet again. Desperately he tried to back away from the two laughing, cane-wielding men, his bow-legged stooped posture and naked hairless form a ridiculous sight.

"Go get him boys!" came a call from one of the ogling guests.

"Love the floor-show, Luthor!" called another, and hoots of laughter ran around the room as the defenceless, powerless superhero tried desperately to evade his pursuers. With his hands held close by his neck he could not fend off the canes, which were being directed at his great muscular butt-cheeks with short underarm wrist-snaps rather than full blows giving the effect of whip-cracks and leaving fierce bright red patches whenever they landed. His bent-over position made it impossible for him to pull his ass out of the way and all he could do was shuffle and waddle around the room, trying to keep his rear end away from his tormentors but without success as the two of them moved quickly to keep either side of him. The sting of the canes was like nothing he had ever felt before and before long he was screaming and begging for them to stop. Why oh why had he been so foolish as to turn on the EM machine? If only he had his powers!

Suddenly he was face down on the floor, tripped by one of the guffawing spectators, the throbbing on his ass now matched by a sharp pain in his nose. For the first time in his life he felt the warm wet flow of a bleeding nose and tasted the metallic sweetness of blood on his lips. Unable to stand as the canes continued to snap at him, he wriggled and crawled through the delighted guests, curling up in foetal position in the corner, whimpering and sobbing.

"Stop, stop, stop. Please stop. Please, please..."

Luthor's face was again close to his.

"You want it to stop?"

"Yes, yes, please..."

"They will stop on one condition."

"What? Yes, anything."

"You have to beg me to fuck you."

Superman's jaw dropped and he stared in horror at Luthor. He had been violated by fingers, tongues and objects but he had never been penetrated by another man's cock. Now he was faced with the alternatives of unbearable beating or surrendering his anal virginity to his most hated enemy.

"No... please no..."

"All right then. Have it your way."

Luthor moved away and the two thugs stood over the curled up quivering form. Now they gave full vent to their hatred and cane blows rained down on ass, legs, arms, torso and genitals. His screaming reached crescendo.

"Ahhh. No. No. Stop. I'll do anything. Please, stop!"

Luthor's face again drew close to his as the assailants backed away.

"Do you want to ask me something, Superman?"

"Yes." he whispered between sobs.

"What?"

"Fuck me."

"Ask nicely."

"Fuck me please. Please."

"And how do you want me to fuck you?"

"Any way you want. Deep and hard. Just fuck me. Please."

"Your wish is my command! Okay guys, let's do this pathetic creep like the whore that it is!"

Superman was dragged to his feet and taken to the centre of the room where a large heavy table was now waiting. The chains were removed from his body and his ankles were spread wide and attached to two of the table legs. His body was stretched full length over the table top and his arms extended forward as far as they could go, and tied at the far end. The spreading of his legs had exposed his hairless hole and the only movement possible for him was to be able to lift his bald and bloodied head slightly up and from side to side. He could see his leering, laughing audience gathering close around him. A large mirror was placed in front of him so that he could see the triumphant Luthor standing behind him staring at his exposed ass. He closed his eyes in the anguish of defeat and dropped his head onto the table. He could feel a tickling sensation in his rosebud.

"Is this where you want it?" he heard Luthor's voice ask.

"Yes." he whispered in reply.

"Hmmm. We'll need some lube first."

He felt a hand on his cock and opened his eyes. In the mirror he could see that Luthor was now kneeling behind him. He could feel the criminal's hands massaging his balls and stroking his cock. Luthor was milking him in front of the crowd; his own cum would be the lube for his deflowering. He tried to relax and give himself over to the sensations emanating from his crotch. The humiliation of being bound and milked was far preferable to the agony of the cane and he did not want to do anything to anger Luthor and risk further beating. He let his hips move with the strokes as best he could despite his immobility.

"Good boy," cooed Luthor, "That's right, work with me. Let's empty these beautiful balls."

He felt himself hardening, and the growing sense of impending orgasm, then almost without warning the sudden explosion of release and he groaned out loud, half in ecstasy, half in defeat, as his cum flew from his spasming cock, splattering across the floor and filling Luthor's waiting hand.

The spellbound crowd hooted their approval with many jockeying for position to get the best angle for their cameras. Superman felt Luthor's hand move to his gaping hole and begin to work the hot cum in, probing with his fingers, but the other hand remained on the still engorged cock and continued the steady milking. Superman strained to move his now ultra-sensitive cock from the grasp but his firm bondage to the table allowed only a small amount of movement.

"Oh noooo...." he moaned as he felt a second round of arousal and again the undeniable urge of impending orgasm. His breathing grew more rapid and his moans louder as the criminal's hand caressed and worked the now fully erect cock, pumping faster and faster as the thrusting hips and pulsing veins announced a second cumming, then...

"Ahhhhhh!!!!" Superman's naked bald body flushed bright red as cum erupted again from the magnificent cock. The second load gushed almost as fully as the first and again Luthor caught a good handful of the hot goo. Yet still he did not release the reddened throbbing organ, but rubbed the Kryptonian semen into its owners ass while continuing to pull with an even tighter grip.

This third milking was rougher and more savage than either of the first two. Having almost emptied his victim's balls, Luthor now took the opportunity to make arousal and release as painful and violent as he could. The audience looked on in amazement, mouths agape, as the master criminal jerked away on their nemesis like a child punishing a toy. It seemed that if he pulled any harder or faster the now purple dong would come right away from the suffering man's body. Superman's mouth and eyes stretched wide in agony and desperation.

"No... no... noooo...!" he cried then gave an almost shrill final "NOOOOOOOOO!!!!" as once again white drops flew from him, a tiny amount, and yet Luthor kept pumping, pumping until no further drops would come and the cries and groans subsided into soft sobbing.

Finally Luthor released the raw, aching cock, and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Smiling broadly he undid his belt, unzipped his fly and let his pants fall to the floor. He was already hard, fully aroused by the preceding play and ready to deliver the final humiliation.

"Now bitch, time to open wide for Daddy. Now beg me again to fuck you."

Exhausted, Superman did not reply but sobbed quietly into the table.

"No? Maybe you need a reminder!" And he grabbed a cane from a nearby thug and raised it high. One! Two! The cane came savagely down diagonally across the beautiful ass, first from the right, then the left, leaving a long red x-shaped welt centred on his cum-filled hole. The bald tear-streaked head lifted high and a huge scream filled the room.

"Now what do you want, scumbag? More of that?

"No! No! Fuck me. Please fuck me!"

"How"

"However you want! Deep and hard! Please, please, no more cane!"

"That's better, fag. Now open wide."

Superman pushed out his hole as far as he could and felt the probing end of Luthor's engorged uncut organ push in hard past the sphincter in one thrust. He had been entered by fingers and objects and for a moment it seemed that the criminal's cock was easy in comparison. Luthor started slow and deep, then increased the tempo, pounding the ass hard each time. As the pace grew more rapid he leaned forward and grabbed the prone man's ears like reins and pulled the bald head back hard towards him. Superman's back arched high to ease the strain on his ears and neck but Luthor pulled even harder as the pounding grew even faster and harder. Then with a few slow, violent jerks and thrusts he shouted out loud

"YES!!!!! I've fucked the bitch! Take my cum in your pathetic ass, superfag!" And the assembled criminal company gave a huge cheer and loud round of applause. He released his grip and stepped back, his cock dripping cum as it left Superman's ass.

"Thanks god," thought Superman as the tension drained from him and his body relaxed against the table.

"Now, who's next?" asked Luthor, and horror filled Superman's mind. It was not over. He would be bound and held in place until every criminal in the room had had their way with him! A low whimper escaped him and subsided into soft weeping.

The next few hours were a nightmare of abuse. Thrusting, pounding fucking from crook after crook, each taking pleasure in reminding their hapless victim of how he had damaged them and their criminal activities, and what pleasure they would take in their revenge. Women with massive strap-ons and broom-handles capped with rubber didoes joined in penetrating the gaping, ravaged hole. Twins and couples spit-roasted him, fucking ass and mouth simultaneously, then swapping places and calling out, "How does your ass taste, Superman?" Cat-calls, laughter and a tirade of mockery filled the air, and every violator posed for humiliating, explicit photographs.

Dazed and half-conscious Superman felt large strong hands lift his head.

"Do you remember me?" Struggling to focus, an enormous head loomed close to his own. "Wolfgang the Enforcer is my name."

Vaguely Superman remembered Luthor's most powerful underling, a human hulk nearly eight feet tall, six feet across the shoulders with hands twice the size of a normal man's.

"You busted me robbing a bank a year ago, left me dangling from the ceiling trussed up in duct-tape for the police. Sent me to rot in prison for life until Mr Luthor broke me out last week. Now it's my turn to be boss!"

The huge criminal moved out of Supeman's vision and placed himself behind the bound man, between his legs, and Supermans steeled himself for what he imagined would be a huge phallus. But Wolfgang did not remove his pants. Instead he began to work the hole with his huge fingers, first one then two, thrusting and kneading in and out, then three, then four, until all the digits of his right hand were fucking the bruised swollen ass.

'More, more. Give him more." he heard Luthor urge, and suddenly it was as if his ass exploded. Wolfgang had placed his whole right fist into Superman and was fisting him, ramming him piston like with long slow thrusts. Now he felt as if he was being split in two but it grew worse. Not only the hand but now the whole forearm was plunging in and out of the pain-wracked rear end of Superman, now almost delirious with trauma.

"More, more. Give him everything!"

Suddenly the bonds were being released and Wolfgang's left arm grabbed him around the middle, his right arm now fully within the battered ass. With enormous strength he hoisted the screaming Kryptonian high overhead so that he balanced high in the air, impaled on the arm, dancing like a demented marionette. Around the room Wolfgang marched, with Superman pinned on his arm, a blubbering trophy in a universe of pain.

"Finish it!" commanded Luthor and, with the whole crowd following behind chanting "Finish it! Finish it!" Wolfgang strode out of the room.

As the procession passed through the cinema, the wrestler thugs grabbed the EM machine and, holding it high, led Wolfgang and the crazed procession towards the hall. By now the semiconscious Superman was gurgling and gyrating, a naked insane doll on the arm of his conqueror. The mass of criminals mad their way into the hall, and watched as the wrestlers and Wolfgang continued onto the balcony.

"Get rid of that thing!" shouted Luthor, and the EM went sailing out into the darkness, the clatter of metal on rocks echoing up from the canyon beneath.

"And that thing too!!" Luthor hissed and the entire company went quiet as Wolfgang extended his arm out over the massive drop. Superman was now almost completely silent and deathly still. With a huge bellow and an overarm pitching motion, Wolfgang sent the battered, naked figure flying off his arm, into the yawning blackness. From far below there was the clatter and crunch of flesh and bone on rock, then nothing.

"Luthor!" someone shouted, then the hall was filled with shouts and chants of "LUTHOR! LUTHOR! LUTHOR!" They crowded around him, shaking his hand and patting him firmly on his back.

The triumphant criminal smiled and bathed in the adulation.

"My friends," he called, "I thank you for your loyalty and your attendance here tonight! Now I think the celebrations can really begin!"

And laughing and chanting, they made their way back to the party.

 

[hornyalltime]

AWESOME chapter!!! And HOT too!!!

 

[bardhal]

Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or related characters and am not making a profit from this story. The characters are owned by DC Comics.

CHAPTER 7: Finale


The party continued through the night and into the next day. By midday most of the guests had found their way to their rooms, or, more often each others, where in pairs and groups they continued the celebrations in ecstatic debauchery. Luthor wandered the corridors, kicking aside empty bottles: Dom Perignon '83, Chivas Regal 50yo, Domaine Romanée-Conti 2005,...

Here and there an unconscious guest or employee lay propped up in a corner or sprawled on the floor. Drunken laughter and carnal grunts emanated from some rooms, while from others there was only silence or deep snoring. In several he found groups of guests and henchmen playing out the events of the previous evening, parodying the humiliation and distress of the vanquished Kryptonian; whimpering like puppies, crying like babies, cowering and calling "Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me! Mommy make it stop!"

Luthor's face radiated a quiet sense of triumph. He had never felt so in control, so powerful, so much the criminal master of the world. The EM deception had worked far beyond his wildest hopes or expectations and enabled him to annihilate his greatest foe, first morally, then mortally. Nothing now stood between him and everything he wanted, which was, in short, everything.

When his wandering found him in the great hall he headed purposefully onto the balcony. Far below, the shadows concealed the bottom of the mine so he could not see but only imagine the detritus that lay there, the wreckage of man and machine.

"Garbage disposal." he whispered quietly to himself, and turned back into his underground lair.

By late afternoon he had eaten alone and worked in solitude for several hours on plans and strategies for expanding his empire in a "post-Superman" world. Occasionally he stopped and mused on the events of the past week, how everything had played out so successfully, and how, with the surprising success of the EM strategy, he had not even needed the seventh night and the coup de grace he had planned.

"A pity in a way," he thought, and chuckled. Things had worked out so well!

As the day drew to an end the entire maze of corridors and rooms was as silent as the grave. Only Luthor seemed still to be astir, and now he was ready to surrender to the tiredness that was engulfing him. As he settled down into his satin sheets and deep pillows, he imagined what pleasant dreams were in store for him. He fell instantly asleep. his smile broadening as his eyes closed.

Is it something about sharing the air in a room with another that makes us aware of their presence even when we can neither see nor hear them? Whatever it is, Luthor knew he was not alone even before he opened his eyes. It seemed no time had passed since he succumbed to tiredness but he was instantly alert in the moment he awoke.

"Who's there?" he asked with just a hint of trepidation in his voice. His men knew not to enter his sleeping chamber without permission but perhaps exceptional circumstances... It was not necessarily anything untoward...

No answer came.

He opened his eyes and the soft blue light of the clock in the windowless room revealed a hazy figure hovering at the foot of his bed, a metre above the ground. In the dim light and without his contact lenses the features lacked definition but the physique was truly godlike. The soft black locks with the kiss curl, piercing blue eyes and strong, square jaw sat above muscular rounded shoulders and arms, and powerful chest. The shadows of his eight-pack rippled down to the slim waist, while the sturdy hips sat either side of the perfectly formed genitals. The sturdy thighs and calves bulged with latent force. The god floated there, silent, looking down on him, observing without expression.

"You could have knocked." Luthor said in as nonchalant a manner as he could manage but wondering what it would be like to be roasted by heat vision. "I see you've gotten over our last night's play."

The god spoke.

"It seems I have."

"You... you did well. My people were very impressed. Very... entertaining."

"I'm sure. The memory has an almost dreamlike sense to it. But I'm sure you can understand why."

"Tell me."

"When I came to at the bottom of the mine my I expected to see my body ravaged and mutilated. But everything was as you see now. The metal rings had fallen away, the wounds had healed, my hair was its normal length. There was no more pain, only a distant memory...

I found the wreckage of the EM machine nearby, That was truly confusing. There was no advanced technology, just a metal box housing some basic circuitry; a light and sound show. It took me awhile to make sense of it. It was just a prop, nothing more. So how did it work, I asked myself, and how was I rendered vulnerable and powerless? Then I realised, I did it to myself, allowed myself to be influenced and led by you. I opened myself to temptation and suggestion and you took full advantage... Something like hypnotism I guess. Am I right? Was that it?"

"Something like that. Well done in working it out." He remained apparently cool and in control, formulating his next moves. If he could survive the next few minutes things might be ok.

"Which explains my survival and restoration. Once I lost consciousness in the hall, the psychic effect on my body lost its effect and my natural metabolism took over again."

"Yes. As I knew it would, of course." He wished he sounded more convincing.

"Of course." The sarcasm was clear.

Summoning his courage, Luthor reasoned it was time to act. Casually he pulled aside the bed clothes and rolled over to sit on the bedside. He slipped his feet into slippers then stood and pulled on a kimono style dressing gown over his silk pyjamas. So far so good. He stood and turned to face Superman again, but he was alone. Was it a dream?

He made his way into the adjoining room, his office. Empty. The reception room. Empty. Where were the guards? Tentatively he opened the door into the main corridor, and there was Superman, still naked, standing and waiting for him. And again, no guards.

"What's going on? I presume you're here to honour your contract, the seventh night.?

Superman looked at him quizzically.

"I already did."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I arrived here at 7pm as agreed. I've been here, off and on, for the last fifteen hours. This is the morning of day eight, around 10am. You slept through the seventh night."

"What?"

"I've had plenty of time to get a good look at your setup here. It's quite extensive. When you renegued on our contract by not meeting me last night I reasoned I was released from obligation and free to act."

"What do you mean? What have you done?"

"Have a look around. You won't find anyone else. The place is empty except for us."

"What? Where is everyone?"

"Many places. Not here, in custody. It was very good of you to assemble them all here for me. It made it very straightforward for me."

"You took them all into custody?"

"I can work very quickly when I want to." The broad grin spreading across the Man of Steel's face infuriated Luthor. His triumph had turned to complete and utter defeat. His men, his minions, all imprisoned. And now, what of himself? Options were narrowing. He had to think.

"I suppose you want your costume back?"

"I was about to ask. Although, I must admit, now that I am myself again it feels good to be free of any physical restriction. But yes, I suppose so. Where is it?"

"Come with me." He was doing his best to look and sound relaxed but Superman, with his enhanced senses once again in play, was aware of the pounding heart and the perspiration. It could just be the apprehension of impending imprisonment but Luthor was the most wily of foxes and not to be trusted for even a moment.

"Lead on."

Luthor led him down to the very end of the long corridor, past the many rooms he had earlier explored and where he had found so many of his tormentors from the night before, now all trussed up and delivered to authorities around the world. The concealed door at the end of the corridor would not have eluded him had he been focussed on closer discovery and had it not been shielded with lead. It slid silently open with a touch of Luthor's hand to reveal a small lift. The two men entered and it began to descend.

After a few seconds the door opened again to reveal a vast natural underground chamber housing a small circular arena. Bright lamps illuminated the bleachers and central stage but the extent of the chamber itself was hidden in darkness overhead and beyond. At the centre of the arena was a large stainless steel pallet, the size of a bed, not unlike those Superman had seen used at autopsies. From its edges hung chains and manacles and around it was an assortment of strange devices with tubes, electrical cabling and rods of various lengths and thicknesses. A small table alongside carried small hand tools and what looked like surgical implements. On the far side stood a mannequin wearing Superman's costume.

"What sort of unholy place is this?" Surprise, anger and disgust mingled in the naked man's voice.

"We call it the Play Field." Luthor began to walk towards the mannequin.

"No doubt this was to be the scene of our seventh night encounter. This was meant for me, wasn't it?" Superman felt rage well in him and fought down the temptation to incinerate Luthor on the spot. The criminal made no reply but walked steadily across what was clearly intended as a place of torture, and began to undress the mannequin.

Superman was instantly alongside him, his face set in a scowl. Without comment he pushed Luthor aside and began to dress. He wanted only now to finish with Luthor and his lair once and for all. It was the moment Luthor had waited for. Faking a slight stagger from Superman's shove he let his hands fall onto the table which held the instruments. A lead-lined ring-box sat in the corner of table and Luthor flipped it open and quickly grabbed its contents.

Immediately Superman felt a wave of nausea wash across him. He turned as Luthor stepped sharply towards him, thrusting his hand forward and seizing Superman by the hair. He held his other hand up in front of the superhero's face, furiously displaying the ring with the glowing green gem which now sat on his finger. He pulled down hard.

"On your knees, turd!"

Aghast, Superman sank to his knees. The glowing kryptonite hurt his eyes and burnt his face like summer sun. He felt a further wave of nausea and dizziness.

"You thought you'd emptied the world of Kryptonite, didn't you? Well not completely you arrogant fool. I've had this ring since that time eight years ago when I first became aware of the substance. My technical people analysed your responses back then and calculated how much was needed, not to kill you, but to make you weak as a kitten, so that we could have our way with you if we ever got you in here. And yes, this was to be the scene of our final night's play. Things took a different path when the EM machine deception worked so unexpectedly well but now we can return to Plan A. My only regret is that there will be no audience but myself. But don't worry, I'll make sure the video recording gets a good airing when the world starts to ask 'What's happened to Superman?'"

He jerked his still half naked foe to his feet and pulled the blued leotard from his body, revealing its full glory once again.

"Get on the slab!" he commanded. "Now fasten the ankle manacles and lay on your back."

Superman did so and Luthor attached the wrist manacles, and fastened thick leather straps over chest and legs, securing Superman to the metal table.

"Now, let me tell you what is going to happen," he said, holding his left hand with its glowing gem firmly on the bound chest.

"First I am going to take this ring from my finger and shove it as far up your ass and into your body as I can, where it can sit securely and keep you weak and defenceless as I go about my business with your body. A milking tube will be clamped onto your cock, electrodes will be stapled to your balls, and an electrified dildo pushed into your ass. They will run at maximum level, painfully stimulating your prostate and balls to generate every ounce of semen you are capable of, while the tube will stroke and suck spurt after spurt of cum from your beautiful cock. And it won't stop when you're empty, it will go on and on until you feel your balls shrivelling and your lovely cock is rubbed raw and bleeding.

Then we will start with the fucking machine. You see it there? All those rods of different lengths and thickness connected to that motor. We'll start with something more or less human size and run it at, what shall we call it? Jogging pace? Then we'll switch to something longer and thicker, and step up the pace. We'll go bigger and bigger and faster and faster until you are being fucked at sprinting speed by a three-foot dildo as thick as a watermelon. And you know what I like about these machines? They don't get tired, they just keep going and going and going, never tiring, never needing a breather, oblivious to your pleas and screams, until I decide to turn them off, which won't happen until your ass is totally destroyed.

Please believe me when I assure you everything will be carefully managed so that you are kept conscious throughout. I don't want you to miss a thing. We'll move onto more subtle play then, my favourite, much more 'hands on.' These surgical instruments and tools are precision engineered for the finest of cuts. I've always wanted to try my hand at flaying. Not the whole carcass, just a bit here and there. To be blunt, I'm going to fillet your phallus Superman! The we'll start removing some other non-essential bits before opening you up and playing around inside. Eventually I guess we'll lose you to shock and blood loss but we'll hold back for as long as possible. Funeral arrangements are quite simple. Dismembered and fed to my dogs. Any remaining bones will be ground down and baked into commemorative ceramic medallions for my friends, except for the skull. That will forever have pride of place on my desk!

Impressed? Possibly not but never mind, you don't get a say. Your place is just to lie there and scream. Let's start, shall we?"

Superman replied softly, a murmur Luthor could not quite make out.

"Feeling a little intimidated I see. You'll have to speak up. Better get it off your chest now, speaking is not going to be possible for much longer."

Again Superman whispered and Luthor bent close over him to hear.

"Speak clearly fool!"

Again Superman whispered and Luthor went deathly pale. He pulled back sharply but with a roar of rage Superman sat straight up, tearing his bonds asunder and grabbing Luthor forcefully by the shirtfront.

"HALF-LIFE!!"

Struggling and yelling in desperation Luthor tried to break the grip but without effect. How could he have been so stupid? How could he, mastermind that he was, miss something so obvious?

"Wh.. what... what is the half... half-life... of kryptonite?" he blurted out.

"Approximately three and a half years!"

"No!!!"

"Your ring has less than 25% of its original potency thanks to radioactive decay. Enough to hurt but not enough to weaken me sufficiently for your ends. Nowhere near what your scientists calculated would be necessary to destroy my defences."

"You were playing possum, you cock-sucking creep! Why?"

"I was curious as to how the final night was meant to play out. Now I know you are as vile and disgusting as I thought."

"What are you going to do?"

"First get rid of this!" He roughly seized the be-ringed finger. The green gem burnt into his hand but he gritted his teeth and with quick jerk pulled the entire finger, ring and all, from the hand. With a flick of his hand he sent the bloody digit and its jewel flying out of sight into the darkness. Luthor screamed and clutched the bleeding stump with his other hand.

"Are you going to kill me? You can't kill me. You're Superman. You don't kill!"

Superman pulled Luthor's face in so close that for a moment Luthor thought he was going to bite him.

"Don't count on it Luthor. Don't presume to know anything about me. I've had quite an education this last week, thanks to you. I'm not the same man I was. I think, I know, I'm much more dangerous now!" He glared at Luthor and his eyes began to glow red. Luthor shook with fear and moaned out loud, expecting to be engulfed in a ferocious burst of heat.

"Don't! Don't kill me! Please! Please!"

Superman said nothing but keeping fast hold on Luthor began to rise slowly into the air. His eyes retained their red glow but no heat radiated from them yet.

"I'm not going to kill you," he hissed softly. "I've already made arrangements for you. Your little description of your murderous plans simply reassured me that you deserve what's in store, though, to be honest I think you're getting off lightly. I told you we were alone in this place. That's not quite true, there is one other here."

"W...What? Who?"

"You are going to spend the rest of your life in high security prison, with hard labour and no parole. There's one other participant from the events of two nights ago who also faces severe penalty for attempted first degree murder. He knows he faces imprisonment without release but I have negotiated something with him to ease his fears and give him hope. He's waiting in your library now. His name is Wolfgang."

"Wolfgang?"

"Yes."

"So what's the deal? And what's it got to do with me? WHAT'S IT GOT TO DO WITH ME!!!!!?"

Superman did not answer but with a burst of speed and power flew down through the door of the lift, smashed through its roof and up through the dark shaft, grasping tightly onto the screaming Luthor. They hurtled along the empty corridor until they came to the locked door of the library. With a single tug Superman pulled it off its hinges and carried the whimpering criminal inside.

Wolfgang rose from his chair and fell to his knees, his hands locked in supplication.

"Superman! Thank you again for not killing me! I will do anything you want, I promise!"

"Just keep to the bargain we made and you will be a free man in ten years." Superman turned his attention to the bewildered Luthor.
"For once I am allowing myself a little license. This is the deal I have made with Wolfgang and which the authorities have promised to honour. He will share your cell for ten years and the he will be free. While he is in prison however he has been told that you are to be his slave to use and play with for these ten years in whatever way he wants, avoiding serious injury of course. You will be his servant and his bitch. You will call him 'Sir", speak only when you're spoken to, obey his every whim and fulfil his every desire. I gather from the last week that you seem to find this sort of arrangement entertaining. Perhaps you will find it as educating and instructive as I have. Now, greet your new master."

"What? This is utter crap! I'll do no such thing!"

Without speaking Wolfgang stood and stepped towards them, his great bulk towering over even Superman and dwarfing Luthor.

"You will not speak to Superman like that!" And he took Luthor by the shoulders and lifted him high overhead. He held him there and shook him like a doll, harder and harder until Luthor thought his teeth would shake loose from his head.

"Stop! Stop! Please! Enough!"

Then Wolfgang threw him hard down onto the floor where he lay winded and gasping.

"Now, say sorry to Superman."

"F... fuck off!"

Crack! Wolfgang's hand slapped hard across the back of the criminal's head.

"Ahhhh! Sorry!" shouted Luthor, then quietly, "I'm sorry Superman."

"Apology accepted. Now apologise to Wolfgang."

"I'm sorry Wolfgang." he hissed.

Crack!

"Not Wolfgang to you, dog! I am 'Sir!' You call me 'Sir!'"

"Ahhh! I'm sorry, Sir! Sorry Sir. Sir... Sir..." And he began to cry, first softly, then louder and louder and louder, until the empty corridors and rooms echoed with his total dismay, rehearsing the song he would sing without respite for the many long, lonely and truly instructive years which lay ahead.

- - - Updated - - -

That's all folks! Hope you liked it

 

[bardhal]

Epilogue will be up in a few days

 

[bardhal]

Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or related characters and am not making a profit from this story. The characters are owned by DC Comics.

The Seven BDSM Nights of Superman

Epilogue: Peripeteia (part 1)

Superman dropped silently out of the late night sky into the darkened alley on the sleazy side of Metropolis. Almost immediately, Clark Kent emerged from the alley into the rain-soaked street. He wore faded jeans, and his brown hoody was pulled down over his half-obscured face. Head down and shoulders hunched, he headed across to the flashing purple and red neon sign which marked the entrance to the Crimson Cobra Club. The fat security guard nodded lazily in recognition as Kent entered the Club, to be met by the now familiar musty, stale odour of sweat, cum, cigarette smoke and marijuana.

It had been the same almost every night for the past six weeks since he had closed down the Luthor operations and handed the master criminal over to the authorities for jailing. Initially he had felt some small pang of conscience at the fate he had ordained for Luthor, to be abused for ten long years by his huge and muscular fellow convict Wolfgang the Enforcer, but knowledge of the terrible death Luthor had plotted for him steeled him against mercy. He did not dwell on Luthor's fate; his mind instead went consistently to memories of the sexual humiliations he had experienced at Luthor's hands in the nights that led to their final confrontation. Although it grated to acknowledge anything positive about his enemy, he recognised that Luthor had opened his psyche to desires and pleasures he had never suspected, so deeply buried had they been. Now, each night after a full day of protecting the citizens of Metropolis and the world from evil and crime, he headed as Clark Kent to any of the bondage and domination clubs on the city's south side, driven by irresistible desires to feel again the thrill of sexual submission and humiliation.

He could not know, although he suspected something of the sort, that the hypnotic suggestions associated with the Environmental Manipulator ploy, and the intense role-play he had participated in while under Luthor's control, had irrevocably altered his psycho-sexual character, so that he now and forever more would feel intense longing and arousal at imagined and actual scenes of sexual submission and humiliation. All he knew was that, at day's end, he was consistently and irresistibly drawn to these clubs, where he would stand in dark corners for hours on end, watching and listening to men of all descriptions being treated as pets and playthings, hung in slings, tied, roped, mercilessly probed, wanked, and fucked, while he stroked and tugged at his Kryptonian cock, shooting load after load of hot white cum onto the stained floor.

He longed to participate himself, give himself over to be toyed with and abused, but he knew as soon as he did the invulnerability of his superior flesh would become evident, and he would be recognised and exposed. He could not risk that. His participation therefore had to remain vicarious.

As he entered, Kent paid little attention to the young black drag queen miming Peggy Lee under a red spot amidst the dozen or so cabaret tables that filled the small performance area alongside the club bar, but headed purposefully to the red door with the cobra head logo at the far left of the room. Pushing it open he entered a corridor with multiple doors on either side, entrances to private booths, which he ignored as he made his way to a further red door at the end of the corridor. Opening it, he at last entered his destination, a dark maze of rooms of various size, occupied by naked and semi-naked men in pairs and groups. Some were bound, roped, leashed or shackled, hanging from the rafters; others were prostrate on the floor, while several occupied slings. Around them gathered men wielding straps, whips and canes, "punishing" the willing slaves and subs, and penetrating them with dildos and cocks. Sounds of moaning and grunting mingled with the slaps and cracks, mostly played over the sound system but some "live' from the men immersed in their rituals of domination, submission and humiliation.

The tall, hooded Kryptonian, head still down, shuffled silently past the nearest group and made his way to a dark corner from which, virtually hidden, he could observe several rooms at once. His attention rested on a heaving sling fuck, where a leather-clad biker was riding an athletic young jock balls deep with long hard thrusts. Alongside the groaning jock a second biker was holding a thick candle aloft, dripping trails of hot red wax up and down the young man's exposed torso. Kent inhaled deeply as he felt the familiar stirring in his abdomen, and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. His slacks slipped down over his muscular thighs and calves, followed by his black briefs. Eyes fixed obsessively on the scene before him, he began to work his magnificent, fully erect cock, already wet with pre-cum, his hips instinctively following the rhythm of his hand. The biker with the candle was now working the young jock's cock, and Kent matched his rhythm to theirs. As the sling slave began to heave and moan with mounting arousal, the hidden spectator felt his own orgasm gathering. The pace and intensity matched and mounted, Kent's breathing deepening and quickening in time with the motion and sounds of the young jock, until as one they came in simultaneous ecstasy, their cum shooting white arcs from their cocks, the one onto his own prone body and the other onto the dark floor in front of him.

This was the first of several orgasms for Superman that night. A few minutes after his first, he was hard again and working his member furiously while watching the gang-banging of a middle-aged man who had entered looking like a bank manager but was now naked and tied to an oversized lazy susan in the centre of a group of heavy muscular "bears". Superman groaned and jerked even harder as he imagined himself on that wheel, serving dozens of men with his mouth and ass. His orgasm, when it came, was even more powerful than the first and shot halfway up the wall alongside him, where it hung and dripped as testimony to the handsome and muscular Kryptonian's fetishist desire. Breathing hard, he sat and leaned against the wall, dropping his head forward and fisting his hands in anger and frustration that he could only participate at a distance. He knew with absolute certainty that, even if he could throw aside his invulnerability and powers as he had when under Luthor's hypnotic suggestion associated with the EM machine, he could not risk openly entering into the activities he saw around him. Being publicly exposed as a sexual deviant would forever tarnish his image and compromise his ability to uphold law and order, and stand as a symbol of goodness in the world. His work must come first, before anything else, even his own sexual fulfilment. He must never be found out!

As the evening wore on, he wandered throughout the dungeon, taking different vantage points from which to observe the action. His presence, though not unobserved, was largely ignored by the denizens of the club. He was obviously a loner and a voyeur and there was a prevailing understanding of "each to his own" amongst the fetishists. Some may have briefly speculated on the awesome body which obviously lived beneath the hooded man's clothing but there was plenty of easy prey and play on hand without needing to entice anyone into doing something they were clearly not there for.

After he had orgasmed for the third time, this time to the scene of an obese red-haired twenty-year-old suspended from the ceiling, whipped and jerked off by his much older master, the now sated Man of Steel tightened his belt and licked the last few drops of cum from his hand. The pungent odour filled his nostrils and he closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply and held his breath for a moment; this would have to be enough for now and satisfy him for the next twenty hours or so, when, if events permitted, he could again partake, albeit at a distance, in the sensual pleasures of submission and humiliation.

He was just about to open the door that led back into the corridor when he heard something that caught his attention, the word "Superman". A moment of fear gripped him as he thought he had been recognised, and he whipped around in the direction of the voice. It came from a small group of men huddled together in a corner with their backs to him, oblivious to him and clearly focussed on something one of them was holding. They were laughing and pressing in close to get a good view of whatever it was.

"O man, it can't really be him," said one.

"Nah but it's a damn good likeness," someone replied.

"What a fucking beautiful body! And get a load of that cock!"

"Yea, I bet even the real Superman is not hung like that!"

Relieved he had not been recognised, but curious to see the source of their fascination, the incognito superhero moved in close to the group and craned his neck to get a glimpse. What he saw made him gasp and blanche. There on the screen of a small tablet being held by a young man in the centre of the group was the film he had witnessed in the cinema in Luthor's lair on the night the arch-criminal had tried to murder him while under the influence of the EM machine. PLAYTHING in all of its explicit sordidness was playing in high definition, drawing whistles and laughter from this group of men who luckily assumed it was a lookalike actor being used and humiliated in the guise of the disempowered Superman.

The hooded Kryptonian reeled back in shock. He thought he had destroyed all copies of the film when he had systematically searched through Luthor's underground headquarters, vaporising the recording equipment with his heat vision. Now he knew otherwise, and if his humiliation was on this man's tablet then how many others also had it, and where had it come from?

With deep anxiety furrowing his brow, he turned and quickly strode out of the club, into the night.

Not long afterwards, the young man with the tablet also left the Club. He began to walk along the street but as he passed the entry to the alley he heard a voice summoning him.

"Psst. You, the guy with the Superman film. Come here.

"Wh... who... is that? What do you want?" He took a step away from the alley and was preparing to run when a red-cloaked figure stepped out of the alley and into the light from the street lamps.

"We need to talk," said Superman, and with superhuman speed he took hold of the young man and in blur of motion flew him to the roof of a nearby tenement apartment block.

"Aaaa! Please! Don't hurt me! I didn't mean any harm."

"I'm not going to hurt you," hissed the Man of Steel. "I just want to know where you got that film?"

"What? You mean it really is you!?" The young man's eyes betrayed both shock and delight at the thought that the submissive subject of the sexual humiliations he had watched over and over in recent days, and shared with friends and strangers at the Crimson Cobra club, was in fact none other than Superman himself. "I got it from a friend. It's his tablet. He said I could show it at the club. I thought it was an actor, a lookalike. It's you?"

"Give me the tablet." The quivering young man handed it over. "Have you made copies, or shared it in any way?"

"No," he replied, releasing the tablet from his shaking hands. "This tablet has no wi-fi or bluetooth. I was able to play the film but not share it. Honestly."

"Ok. Now tell me about this friend. Who is he and where can I find him?"

"His name is Dick DeLite. He's a gay porn actor. Say, you really rock in that film; you should be proud. I cum a gusher every time I watch it." HIs attempt to flatter his captor was clearly the wrong strategy as Superman's angry glare told him in no uncertain terms that he had better not continue that line of comment, and he fell silent.

"This Dick DeLite, where can I find him?" Without hesitating, the nervous young man gave the cloaked crime fighter an address in one of the most luxurious of Metropolis' apartment blocks and waited anxiously to see what Superman would do next. To his surprise, the invulnerable Kryptonian said nothing, but stepped back and in the blink of an eye vanished into the night sky. Relieved, the young man ran to the fire escape ladder and took himself down as quickly as he could. He was headed straight back to Crimson Cobra Club, to share news of his surprising and somewhat alarming encounter, and the realisation that the performer in the video was indeed the Man of Steel.

By now Superman was hovering in the air outside of Dick DeLite's 23rd storey apartment. His x-ray vision revealed a small but expensively furnished luxury apartment. In the king-sized bed a single male figure lay still, his breathing pattern that of deep sleep. The french doors leading from the bedroom to the balcony were open, and the silent Man of Steel floated in, unobserved. He stood over the prone figure for a moment, until the well-built young man rolled in his sleep, revealing his face for the first time. The lack of light was no hindrance to Superman's examination of the handsome face, and he caught his breath as he realised he had seen the actor before. It was "Tony", the college boy from the fourth and fifth nights of his sessions at Luthor's lair. Of course. It made sense that Luthor would have hired porn actors to play the various roles in his perverted scenario. "Tony", now revealed as Dick, had certainly taken to the role with relish and true professionalism.

A short sharp blast of icy breath from the figure at the foot of his bed caused Dick to gasp and wake from sleep. He was immediately aware of the large silhouetted form standing before him, yet he seemed surprisingly unconcerned.

"Superman! At last..."

Superman was puzzled by the reaction.

"You were expecting me? I guess that means you know why I am here."

"Yes, I think so. The movie, right?"

"Right. You have some explaining to do."

Apparently unconcerned, Dick rolled over, turned on the bedside lamp and sat up, leaning against the padded bedhead. His handsome face, framed by golden locks, wore a confident, knowing smile, and his naked, well-toned torso betrayed his habit of sleeping naked.

Superman thrust his hand holding the tablet towards the smug porn actor.

"Where did you get this? Who have you shown it to?"

"Take it easy, big guy, and I'll explain everything. Luthor gave me a copy of that film. It must have been the day before you busted him, going by the reports in the news. It certainly is an amazing shoot. I've seen plenty of gay fetish porn; this ranks right at the top."

Superman listened impatiently as Dick explained how he had become obsessed with the film, playing it over and over again with a mixture of professional admiration and prurient attraction for the "star". He talked animatedly about desperately wanting to meet Superman again.

"The more I watched it, the more certain I became that you weren't just going through the motions for Luthor, you were really into the role play and the submission. My guess is that you had been holding back on expressing this part of your nature for a long time, so when the opportunity came, you really went for it. Am I right?"

Superman hesitated, thrown by how accurately Dick had read the seductive effect the sessions at Luthor's lair had had on him.

"I was doing what I had to. It was part of a deal with Luthor, to get his surrender."

"Bullshit! That may have been how it was at the start but I know what I saw, at Luthor's place and on the film. You are a total sub, a committed fag. Admit it, Superqueer, you love it!"

The forcefulness of Dick's reply took Superman aback. He realised immediately that the tables had been turned and he had shifted from interrogator to accused. He blushed fiercely and was momentarily lost for words. Dick continued the assault.

"I copied that little piece of cinema magic onto several tables and gave them to some acquaintances to show around the clubs and dungeons. Oh don't worry babe, the files have a built-in corruption code. They'll become unreadable and unplayable in the next 48 hours. But I figured you'd be hanging around those places and this would be a perfect way of getting your attention. And I was right! Here you are!"

"And you intend to blackmail me? Is that it?"

"Oooo no! Not that, baby. The original film is tucked away safely on a server for our eyes only. I'm not gonna use it to blackmail you. I wanted you to contact you so we could play together some more..."

Superman's eyes widened. The beautiful, toned and naked young man in front of him had moved forward on the bed closer to where he was standing. The sheet had dropped away to reveal a slim but muscular form with washboard stomach and powerful thighs framing large tight balls and generous cut cock already semi hard. Dick continued to talk excitedly.

"Admit it, Supes. You love this stuff. Why deny yourself? You give so much to the world, you deserve a bit of harmless fun yourself. Let me be your playmate. I'm experienced; you know you'll love it and no-one else will ever know."

Dick's left hand had drifted down to his own cock and had begun to work it with slow but purposeful strokes. He extended his right hand in the direction of Superman's crotch. The bewildered Kryptonian knew he should step back, spurn the advance and leave. But he was rooted to the spot, mesmerised by the splendid young jock before him and the offer of playing out once again the fantasies which occupied his every night.

Dick's right hand wrapped around the growing bulge in Superman's briefs and began to firmly knead the tightening sack and its egg-sized contents. He inched further forward on his knees until their faces were almost touching, opened his mouth wide and licked the quivering chin and lips before him. He slipped his hand into the briefs and took hold of the now fully erect cock within, feeling the heat and throb of it, and the moist fluid now seeping from the tip. His other hand let go of his own cock and rested momentarily on Superman's massive rock-like pecs, then slid up behind his neck and pulled the beautiful face towards his own. Their mouths opened simultaneously and they kissed, deep and long, tongues and lips intertwining in a dance which grew more rapid and frenzied.

Superman's heart raced and his mind whirled. There was a sense almost of euphoria in submitting himself to Dick's assertive fondling and kissing. Oh the sheer relief of releasing himself, surrendering to desire, submitting to another man's will, allowing himself to be subject to his demands. Surely Dick was right? The world owed it to him and he owed it to himself. And here, with the young porn star, whatever transpired would be completely confidential. He would not have to stand in a dark corner and imagine, as he had done so often in the clubs; here he could participate, give himself to the beautiful young jock, and the world would be none the wiser.

A long, deep groan escaped from Superman as the tension released and Dick felt him soften and relax, giving himself over in complete acquiescence. Abruptly the young man released his hold, jumped down from the bed and ran across to the open french windows of the balcony. Superman turned and started to walk to him only to be stopped by a sharp command.

"Stop! Stay there! Don't come to me until I say you can. Understand."

"Wha...? Oh... Yes. Yes, I understand." Slightly bewildered, Superman realised that now the game was to begin. He waited for Dick to speak again.

"Good. Now stay there and strip for me. Slowly. And make it sexy, like you're auditioning for a job in a sex club."

Superman understood. He began to sway his hips suggestively where he stood, at the same time reaching behind his neck and releasing the great red cape. Turning slowly, he let it fall to the floor, then, with his beautifully sculpted ass pointing towards Dick, he bent over and slipped off his boots. His hips and ass gyrated luridly before the eager gaze of the sole spectator. Still bent over, he reached behind himself and began to pull the red briefs down over the great thighs, past his knees, to his ankles, then stood up and stepped forward leaving the briefs on the floor.

Now he turned to face the leering young porn actor once more. He reached into the neck opening of the blue unitard and stretched it wide, slowly easing it down over shoulders, chest, and stomach. With thumbs hooked into the stretched fabric, he continued to push down, exposing the fully enlarged cock which stood out hard and high above the large balls, now gripped tightly in the shrunken sack. Down the costume went until it circled his ankles, then it too was left behind on the floor and the magnificent body of the clearly aroused Man of Steel stood naked and proud in the centre of the bedroom. Feelings of liberation and ecstasy suffused him and he raised his eyes and spread his arms wide.

Then. still swaying his hips in a wide, slow circular motion, he began to slowly rise from the floor. He floated there totally nude, defying gravity, displaying himself before Dick, slowly turning in the air, exposing himself in every imaginable angle.

"Good boy!" called Dick, applauding. "Now you can come to me."

Superman descended to the floor and began to walk towards the masterful young man.

"No!" shouted Dick. "On all fours, BITCH!"

The two naked men stood facing each other, looking directly into each other's eyes. Bowing his head the taller, stronger, dark-haired superhero sank down until he was kneeling on all fours, eyes fixed now on the floor in front of him.

"Good boy," smiled Dick. "Now, crawl over here, dog, and lick these balls."

Breathing hard and relishing the moment, Superman crept forward like an obedient pup until he had crossed the room to where Dick stood. Lifting his head he began to lick the tight hairy ball sack of the young porn star who had now assumed the role of his "master". The man whose power exceeded that of whole armies revelled in the chance to once again play the part of the submissive whore. It was who he knew he was meant to be, he was certain of that now, and with Dick as his discreet partner in humiliating role play he would be able to give full vent to his sluttish desires without compromising or putting at rick his reputation and work as the world's protector and premier crime fighter. As his tongue worked around the sack and its egg-like contents, the young jock slapped his huge hard cock against the Kryptonian's handsome face.

"Yea, you love it, don't you whore? Good boy, work those balls like a good slut. Now suck on this you fag." And he thrust his engorged member deep into the mouth and throat of the only too willing sub. As if he was born to it the naked and aroused Man of Steel sucked and licked at the rock hard cock, simultaneously working his own swollen organ, faster and faster until both men began to heave and rock in unison, and as one shot their massive hot sticky loads, the one down the throat of his fellating pet, and the other onto the floor carpeted floor of the bedroom. Exhausted and exultant they fell away from each other, sinking to the floor in sighing contented piles of naked muscular flesh.

 

[bardhal]

Part 2 of the epilogue will be posted soon, and that will conclude the story.

 

[bardhal]

The final instalment:

Disclaimer: I do not own Superman or related characters and am not making a profit from this story. The characters are owned by DC Comics.

The Seven BDSM Nights of Superman Epilogue: Peripeteia (part 2)

Curled up naked on Dick's floor, Superman slept the deepest, most restful sleep he had known since before the arrangement with Luthor that had led him into his sexual awakening. He dreamed of flying naked around the world, watched and applauded by cheering crowds. He slept so soundly that he did not wake even when Dick stroked and aroused him, and brought him twice more to orgasm as he dreamed.

When he finally woke, it was with Dick, now fully dresed, lying on top of him and holding a small brown medicine bottle under his nose.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Poppers," smiled Dick. "Breathe in deep babe."

"Ugh. No point. It will have no effect on me. I'm sorry."

"Do as I tell you bitch. This is a special brew, just for you. Now, inhale deep and long."

With a shrug the naked superhero breathed in through his nose, drawing in the pungent vapour which rose from the bottle. Fumes filled his notrils and sinuses, exciting his olfactory nerves and sending electrochemical signals firing into his brain.

It was like being shot into the air on a rocket, or being the rocket itself, then exploding across the sky into thousands of fiery colours! He had never known such a sensation before in his life. Every muscle locked into steel-like tension, his breath caught in his throat and his eyes opened wide, yet all he saw were the the explosions of colour and all he heard was an inner scream. At the same time he was tellingly aware of instant and exreme sexual arousal as his cock leapt into full erection and his ballsack tightened like a fist.

"WHAT??? What... is... that?" he managed to gasp, and Dick, hanging on tightly to the arching man of steel pushed the bottle hard up against the flaring nostrils.

"Like I said baby, special brew for you! Powerful aphrodisiacs with euphoric and hallucinogenic overtones, mixed into your own cum, with a little powder to give it that necessary extra grunt."

Again Superman sensed the vapours invading his nostrils and sinuses and once more he was a skyrocket shooting into the air and exploding into bright stars of every imaginable colour. He felt his rock-hard cock straining out from his body and the tightening in his balls was almost unbearable.

"What... powder?" he gasped, and Dick gave a deep chuckle.

"Ground down from a certain green gem you left on a ring in the cave under Luthor's headquarters. Still attached to a finger when I found it. It took some hunting but it was there all right, just where I knew it would be."

Now he understood. The drugs in the mixture had been given special potency by being dissolved into his Kryptonian cum and his normally impervious metabolism was made vulnerable by the addition of powdered kryptonite. Dick had found the last of the deadly mineral on the ring that Luthor had tried to use against him in the underground arena.

With his eyes still unable to focus he felt Dick's finger wiping the extraordinary aphrodisiac onto his upper lip, immediately below his nostrils. He felt the finger probe into his mouth, wiping the substance over his tongue and inner cheeks, then invading his nostrils, first left, then right, and smearing drug laced, kryptonite fueled cum deep into his nose. The pungent odour was everywhere in his consciousness now. All he was aware of was the throbbing of his engorged cock and the spinning, whirling colours. He knew that in his brain neural connections and myelin sheaths were being adulterated by kryptonite and drugs. His mind was being altered, permanently. But why?

From far away now he seemd to hear Dick's voice.

"Listen to me now, bitch. I'm guessing you've never experienced such a high before, right. That's right isn't it?"

"Yes... yes..." he managed to whisper.

"And you're loving it, aren't you?"

"Yes. Oh yes. It's... amazing... Oh!" and he felt another surge in his genitals and another burst of colour in his head.

"Good boy! My baby, my slut. Now listen carefully. Are you listening?"

"Yes... yes..." He could feel Dick's hand moving over his balls and along his cock.

"I want you to think back now, to the EM machine and how you psyched yourself into neutralising your powers and invulnerability. It came from your own will, your psyche, but your will is mine now, Isn't it?"

"Yes... yes Sir..." And again there were explosions in his mind's eye. He could feel his cock awash with precum as Dick's hand continued its slow, gentle manipulation and felt he must cum any moment. The tension was unbearable.

"Good. Now reach into your memory and find that feeling again, the feeling of your powers draining away, of your flesh becoming vulnerable, and do it again. Do it now, do it because I'm telling you and you have no choice."

Deep inside his mind, Superman began to remember the experience of letting go of his invulnerability and relinquishing his powers. No longer duped by the EM machine, it was his own psyche, deferring willingly to Dick DeLite's commands that was taking control of his metabolism and rendering him weak and vulnerable.

Holding on tightly to his quarry, Dick felt the muscles begin to lose their steel-like firmness and the arching frame begin to buckle beneath his weight. It was working. The cum-based, kryptonite laced concoction had given him access and control of Superman's mind. The great fag had surrendered himself totally.

Pressing home his conquest, Dick smothered his finger once more in the cum-based mixture and drove it deep into Superman's nostrils, repeating the action again and again until the small brown bottle was empty. Kryptonite and drug molecules raced along nerve fibres, leapt synapses, and mingled with neurons, embedding themselves permanently in the hapless Kryptonian's neural network. Dick had determined to be merciless in the onslaught; there would be no escape.

Superman's consciousness was a world of spinning colour and vertigo. Nausea gripped the now vulnerable and powerless superhero as he twisted and turned in the throes of the hallucination. There seemed to be loud bells tolling from every direction but above all was the reverberation of Dick's resonating, godlike voice.

"Now listen closely bitch. This is the voice of your master and owner. Do you understand?"

"Ahhh... yes... yes..." came the the whimpered reply.

"And from now on, and forever more, when you hear my command "POWER DOWN!" you will remember this feeling and you will obey. You will release your powers and your invulnerability and become as you are now. Do you understand? Will you obey?"

"Yes... yes..."

"Yes what, bitch?"

"Yes master... I understand... I will obey..."

"Good! Now we play!"

Suddenly the dizziness and spinning colours were joined by a other sensation, searing pain, as Dick released the engorged cock and grabbed both balls hard and twisted them fiercely. Superman squealed and doubled in pain, and flipped over onto his belly. Dick held on tight, using the swollen balls to drag his slave's ass towards him. Now Superman felt his hair being yanked hard so that his head was pulled back high. At the same time Dick released the aching balls and plunged his fingers deep into the yawning ass. No longer immune to pain Superman screamed in agony. Almost immediately Dick withdrew his fingers and thrust his own cock into the hole.

Moaning and crying, his face distended by the rhythmic yanking on his hair, Superman felt his butt being rapidly and forcefully pounded so that his hips collided over and over with the floor. Dick was fucking him with every ounce of his strength so that he bounced around like a rag doll. The young jock's free hand was now once again on the Kryptonian cock, squeezing and tugging so hard that pain and pleasure were inseparably mingled for the once proud superhero, now consigned to the role of subservient fucktoy.

With a shout of triumph Dick exploded into the slave's ass, while simultaneously Superman cried out in defeat as he felt his own cum release at the bidding of his master.

He lay there panting and sobbing as Dick lay himself over him like a sweating, smothering blanket. He felt the younger man's face press close to his own, his mouth against his ear.

"Now listen again, fag, while I tell you my big secret. I want you to hear this so you know without doubt the completeness of your surrender and defeat. Now tell me, do you really think my mother named me "Dick DeLite"?"

"No... I guess not... it's your porn name..."

"That's right. My professional name. My real name is Lucas..."

"Lucas?"

"Lucas... LUTHOR! I believe you know my uncle quite well!" And with that the arch criminal's nephew began to laugh loudly into the defeated superhero's ear.

"No... no... no..." whimpered Superman.

Grabbing tightly again onto his victim's hair, Lucas hissed into his ear.

"Now you've cost my family an awful lot of money in recent times, not to mention my uncle's freedom. Now you're gonna help to reverse that situation, understand?"

"How?" came the soft, sobbing reply.

"You'll find out soon enough. Now I want you to get you sorry ass out of here. When you come to you will have your powers and invulnerability back and you can go about your normal business. At 10 tonight you will meet me by the back entrance to the abandoned warehouse on O'Donnell Street. Don't be late."

Then without warning Lucas pulled the bewildered Superman to his feet and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Before he realised what was happening, Lucas had carried him out onto the balcony and was heaving him over the edge. He tried desperately to fly as he plummeted the 23 storeys to the sidewalk below but to no avail. Loss of consciousness was instantaneous. He was unaware of the sickening thud and crunch as his quite vulnerable body hit the ground.

When he came to it was still dark. He felt no pain, no discomfort. The concrete below him was cracked and his cosyume lay criumpled a few yard away from him but he showed no signs of harm. I was still dark. High above the lights in Dick's (no Lucas's) apartment were out.

Trembling with trepidation at what was to come, he quickly dressed and flew off into the night sky.

..............................................
Two weeks later...

Lex Luthor sat smiling in his new leather chair, luxuriating in the plush comfort. He had acquired a new appreciation of the finer things in life, having spent the past two months suffering the unforgiving harshness of prison furniture, and the tormenting demands of his fellow prisoner Wolfgang. His gaze was fixed on the handsome young man opposite, the son of his late brother. He knew his sudden and unexpected improvement in circumstances was due entirely to his nephew's efforts; he had proven himself a true Luthor and would be a worthy successor to the resurgent Luthor empire.

"I can't ever thank you enough," said the older man. "Believe me, your rewards will be greater than anything you can have imagined. Now tell me more about what happened after you trapped the Kryptonian asshole, and don't spare the details. I want to enjoy every moment."

"Well he turned up at the warehouse that night, just as I had commended. He had no choice. You should have seen his face when I placed the collar and leash around his neck and led him inside to where the crowd was waiting. I think every petty crook in Metropolis was there, along with a handful of bosses. Of course, none of them believed I would be delivering the real Superman for their entertainment. They mostly assumed it would be some lookalike impersonator.

Despite that, the bleachers were full. Roughly 1200 tickets sold at $100 each. Chicken feed. I made him stand in the centre while they jeered and hooted, then I poured gasoline over him and set it on fire. It had no effect on him of course, although it made a fascinating show. That convinced most of them he was the real deal. There were still a few who shouted out it was an FX trick so I invited them to come in close and empty their guns into him. He just stood there and took it without a murmer. There was a moment of stunned silence after that. Noone doubted it was him but I think they were afraid of what was to come next, that it was maybe some sort of ruse to get them all together for a mass arrest.

I broke the tension by ordering him to lie down on the ground, then I invited everyone in the front rows to come forward and strip him. Talk about a feeding frenzy! You couldn't see him for the crowd of hooting, hollering hoods ripping at his clothes. It only too a few seconds and he was totally naked, just lying there gritting his teeth, trying not to cry."

"He hated it but still obeyed?"

"Yes! That's the best part of all this! Like any addict he hates his addiction, and hates himself and me. But his brain is so adulterated by the kryptonite and drugs he has no choice. He knows I have control of his powers and can make him vulnerable with a word, and he also can't help craving submissive sexual abuse. He's doubly vulnerable and there's no escape!"

"I love this! Tell me, what happened next?"

"Well then the fun started. I started ordering him to display and abuse himself in front of the audience. They were beside themselves, almost hysterical with delight, shouting, laughing, callin him "slut", "fag", "wanker" and such. I had him wank in all sorts of positions, show his hole and finger himself, and fuck the floor.

After that I offered his ass to allcomers at a grand per minute. Two hours of non-stop fucking for the poor idiot. Crooks, thugs, killers and thieves lined up with their cash, willingly parting with a thousand bucks to fuck that ass in any way they wanted for sixty seconds. One guy with a huge cock had him crawling around barking like a dog while being fucked doggy-style. A few paired up and spit-roasted him on all fours or on his back. All the time I worked his cock so that he cummed seven times in two hours. The drugs I gave him included a prolactin inhibitor so as soon as he shot one load he was ready to start on another! I was careful to collect as much of his cum as I could so that I could make up a new batch of the special brew. He's had six bottle of that goo up his hooter now so his brain is full of kryptonite and drugs. There's no going back for the pathetic sucker!

After that I sent them back to their seats and gave him the command. You would have loved the look of terror in his eyes as he powered down. We strung him up by his wrists so he hung there like a side of beef. I went to town on him with fists and cane; hey, here's a joke: "What's black and blue and covered with red stripes?" Hahahaha!. I kept going until he was about to pass out, then called it a night. As they left they spat on him and gave him a final serve of name-calling and verbal abuse. I let him pass out where he hung and left him there with a note around his neck to report back again the next night, same time same place. I bet he cried his eyes out when he came to."

"This is unbelievable. Revenge on the great turd and a quarter million bucks to boot! What an incredible night's work! Lucas, I love you boy!"

"That was only the first night. And like I said before, chicken feed. After word got around we had a second night much like the first. That gave me enough cash to bribe your warden. He proved to be very open to corruption. You can consider him an employee from now on. Wolfgang will be in solitary confinement period. Structural changes to the prison will start next week and this will become your new secret headquarterters. What an irony! You'll live in luxury in what the authorities think is your place of confinement, and you will come and go as you want. The warden will work for you and the guards have already been replaced with our own hand-picked men.

"What about cash-flow? Do we have enough?"

"That's where it gets even better. Superman is an unprecedented cash-cow, in more ways than one. The third night at the warehouse we were ready to repeat the previous two night's "program" when a big black limo turned up with three young suits, elegant gay millionaires, probably running some financial scam I'd say. They didn't say much but gave me a valise full of cash. A cool million. We sent the crowd away and Superman and I got into the car with them. We drove into the hills to their mansion and they took us downstairs via a secret lift to what must be their "playground". These guys are into rough bdsm for sure. I made Superman power down and they went to town on him.

They began with a protracted sling fuck and spit-roast, then tied him up with ropes and started on him with pegs and pins. I don't think he's ever been "sounded" before but he has now, with a long rod as thick as my thumb. He didn't like that but I'm pretty sure the dungeon is soundproof so the screams wouldn't have been heard. His balls were tied so tight they went purple and stayed that way for the rest of the night.

Then they tied him face down on a table, legs wide and ass in full view. I've never seen so many different types of dildo including some with vibrators and electric currents in them. They played his ass solidly for an hour, with the electric current high enough to make his whole body jerk violently despite the ropes. Then they took off their jackets and shirts and started with their hands. By the time they'd finished fingering and fisting, one of them had his arm up that ass all the way to the elbow, and thrusting like a piston. That's when the crying and screaming stopped and he passed out, and the night came to an end. They said they got their money's worth and would like to make a regular monthly booking!! We dumped him naked in the hills but I left him a note to meet again at the usual place and time.

The next night was different again. During the day I got a phone call from Sicily. Word had got to senior mafiosi whose interests had been damaged by Superman's recent attack on our activities. They wanted revenge. So, when he turned up that night I sent him to Sicily. When he got there I talked to him via skype, gave him the command, and left him in their hands. I don't have all the details but I know it involved rough sex and humiliation. The venue was a dairy so you can imagine some of what happened. The idea of him being hooke dup to a milking machine and milked dry over and over is just too delicious. I wonder how many litres they got out of him? They must have been happy with the night's play because five million bucks found its way into our secret account the next day.

Every night has been different but lucrative beyond belief. So I'd say SUPERFAG INDUSTRIES is definitely up and running and a huge success. It will without doubt give us the cashflow we need until the rest of our activities are up and running again."

Exultant, almost euphoric, Lex Luthor threw his head back and gave a loud WHOOP of victory. Laughing until tears ran down his face he leapt out of his seat and threw his arms around his nephew. Revenge was so sweet! And the irony that his arch enemy was now his nephew's obedient slave, the source of their new fortune, and destined to live a life of constant pain and humiliation was the greatest revenge he could ever hope for.

......................................................

 
POSTSCRIPT

From the files of SUPERFAG INDUSTRIES

To The Manager,
SUPERFAG INDUSTRIES

Dear Sir

Thank you for the recent supply of SUPERCUM you sent me. The 100ml provided just the right ingredient to complete the sauce for my delicious Caesar Salad. It was especially satisfying knowing its source!

I am planning a dinner for some of my close friends from the Cartel. I would love for them to have the same experience of consuming SUPERFAG SUPERCUM on their salad. I know the thought of the humiliation involved in its supply will delight them no end.

Could you please supply me with a litre of SUPERCUM by the end of the month? Will there be any discount for quantity?

Yours sincerely,

XXXXXXXXXX



Dear XXXXXXXXXX

Thank you for your recent feedback and order. I am delighted that you have found our product to your satisfaction.

We will be happy to supply the litre of SUPERCUM you requested and can deliver before the end of the month.

You will appreciate that this will mean additional effort on our part to stimulate our special "cow" to produce the required amount. Consequently, rather than a discount there will in fact be a premium of 10% on this order.

At the normal rate of one million dollars per 100ml, this will come to $1,100,000. Please transfer this amount to our account an we will begin the process of supply.

Yours sincerely,

Dick DeLite
Managing Director

 
Mr Dick DeLite
Managing Director
SUPEFAG INDUSTRIES

Dear Dick

How are you buddy? Carmela sends her love and a big hug and kiss for the bottle of perfume. She said it's her new favourite!

Is it really made from the super slut's tears? How hiliarious!

My reason for writing is I'd like to get some more if I can, for Mom and my three sisters? That's a lot of tears I know but Carmela says it's the best she's ever had and you know me, only the best for my girls!

Can you get me four more 50ml bottles for Christmas? Price is no object as you probably realise - business is booming these days!

Thanks buddy - hope to hear from you soon!

XXXXXXXXXXXXX




Dear XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Thanks for the letter pal. So happy Carmela liked the gift.

Yes, I can get you four more 50 ml bottles for Christmas. Only too happy. As you can appreciate, we get a lot of tears from the slut so supply is easy. Normal price is $100,000 per 10ml but yours will come at half price (mate's rates!)

I'll send an invoice with the product!

See you at the bbq!

Lucas

 

[bardhal]

Just wondering if anyone actually read all of my story, and what they thought of it?

 

[justright25]

It was an awesome story and I don't get into BDSM.

 

[bardhal]

One final installment. Not so much a chapter as a denouement:

THE SEVEN BDSM NIGHTS OF SUPERMAN - Afterword

From the Diary of Clark Kent:

Hello Diary

The end of another busy week for Superman here in grubby, vice-ridden Metropolis; much the same as most weeks of the past six months since that "aberration" with Lucas Luthor ended. I still remember vividly the look of shock and fear on his face when he realised the gig was up. If he had been as clever as he thought he was, he might have realised that the constant exposure to those miniscule amounts of kryptonite would de-sensitise my physiology and build resistance. I was prisoner to the kryptonite and drug concoction for many months, but gradually I felt its effect waning.

What a rush of liberation I felt when I understood what was happening, how I no longer felt overwhelmed by the drug and could once again exercise free will!

"Power down, bitch!" he had commanded, just as he had so many times in the months before. But he hadn't heard "NO" in response before! His face went white and he stopped breathing momentarily.

"POWER DOWN!" he shouted, but I just laughed, almost hysterically, when I realised I was free of his perverse control. It was such a great pleasure then to take him and his uncle by the scruffs of their necks and secure them both once more in the high security where they belonged. And of course to follow up with the apprehension of the many (oh so many!) criminals and corrupt officials who I had been made to degrade myself for during those nightmare days.

Did I feel tempted to exact revenge? To put them through the same treatment I had endured? Enslaved, debauched, humiliated almost beyond imagination... Very much.

But that's not the way of Superman.

Of course the great irony is that ultimately I owe the Luthors so much! The gift that they gave me, first Lex and then his nephew, in the realisation that my power and invulnerability were subject to my own voluntary control. What a change that has brought to my life now, and what deep satisfaction I now derive from it. That makes Luthor's downfall a double defeat; I must make sure I tell him about it!

So now, when the week is done, I reward myself with a visit to the Crimson Cobra Club. I have become quite a hit there, the anonymous man who bears such a striking resemblance to Superman (haha!); who has even been known to dress as the Man of Steel! And who submits so enthusiastically to the bondage and discipline play of the many dominants who frequent the club.

When I make my late night visits to the club, I quietly concentrate on powering down before I enter, so that when playtime starts the ropes genuinely secure me, and the whips and wax truly sting. The dildos and dicks which penetrate my willing ass do so with ease; my super strength and vulnerability are on hold, in abeyance, and I can participate as a bona fide submissive and slave.

My sighs and groans are real as I immerse myself in the fine line between pleasure and pain to which Lex Luthor introduced me and which I have discovered to be my great pleasure and diversion from the constant demands and pressures of being Superman.

Surrendering myself to the use of those other men, and feeling the appreciative (if not tender) attentions of their bodies and devices gives me far greater sense of belonging, of being desired and wanted, than any of the plaudits and awards of the nations and people of the world. As a favourite submissive in a BDSM club I feel complete personal connection to those who are giving me their full focus!

And I know they fully and sincerely enjoy paying me their attentions.

I know that they admire my willingness to allow the bondage, the spanking, the rough fucking, the humiliating role play, the verbal denigration. I soak it all up, going further and further into the ecstasy of my headspace, a state I would never have discovered if not for my dear friend Lex!

How I look forward to the end of the week, and my reward for being the great and virtuous Superman for the previous seven days. What will it be tonight I wonder? We'll almost certainly start with some forced stripping and spanking and then move on to a sling fuck. I'm hoping after that for some inverted forced milking, or maybe some doggy role play. But whatever comes, I know I will enjoy it.

And then I will dress and move back into the night, refreshed and revived. I will disappear into the darkness of the alley, where I will pause momentarily, assert my will, and once more be Superman.

That's all for now, dear Diary. I'll let you know how the evening goes when I return to confide in you once more. And I know you'll keep our little secret, my most trusted friend.

Kal

 

[Taesung]

It's a pity that I got to know this story so late, when the author stopped interacting and stopped writing more stories. The story is great, I like all the chapters, and the end too, after flipping and flipping, the lex ends up in jail and Superman is no longer a slave to those two nephews. But he fell again, the end was very satisfied. But I still regret it because there is still something I want to see.If only lex fuck superfag, I don't believe that after enduring in prison lex had no intention of taking revenge on his enemy directly. It would be great if lex's big dick plowed clark's ass. And the superman serves the only one who deserve to be his master, who truly hates, wants to humiliate, torture and treat him like a real low dog, it's even better that lex is straight and really a badass boss. One more thing is While he is in prison however he has been told that you are to be his slave to use and play with for these ten years in whatever way he wants, avoiding serious injury of course. You will be his servant and his bitch. You will call him 'Sir", speak only when you're spoken to, obey his every whim and fulfil his every desire. I gather from the last week that you seem to find this sort of arrangement entertaining. Perhaps you will find it as educating and instructive as I have. Now, greet your new master." I wish I could see lex went through all of this during his time in prison. And Lucas too. If you read these words, hope the author will write more about the above, I would like to thank and very grateful. (it is possible to leave lex x superman before the superman's betrayal or after many years man of steel realizes that nothing can replace the feeling of being luthors' slave.) Once again, thanks.