THE SEVEN BDSM NIGHTS OF SUPERMAN
Chapter 1: The First Night
Superman cruised high above the Atlantic Ocean in a confused state of mind. A great opportunity had presented itself, yet with it there were question marks. Since the threat of kryptonite had forever been removed he had a confidence to match his enormous power. Interpol and other international security organisations had done their job well in helping him to locate all deposits of the deadly green and red mineral on planet Earth. He had watched almost in ecstasy as the almost 500kg of kryptonite had been blasted skyward atop a Russian rocket on a one-way trip to annihilation in the sun. With the kryptonite removed, he had redoubled his efforts to rid the world forever of the corrupt criminal organisation of his hated adversary, Lex Luthor, the most evil man on Earth, and everywhere the Luthor empire was crumbling.
But now there was a new development. Stung by the attacks, Luthor had that day made contact with Superman via a secure radio frequency...
"Superman you alien asshole, you have the upper hand and I admit that my final and total defeat is only a matter of time. But be warned, in whatever time is left to me as the world's pre-eminent master criminal, I will use all of my resources to go down fighting. I cannot win but I will go out in such devastating fashion that the world will tremble, and your victory will come at the cost of thousands of lives and overwhelming destruction of property."
"However, I give you an alternative. You allow me one final little victory at no cost to people or property, after which I will go quietly into retirement and give you all of the information you need to quickly and easily undo my entire empire. Names, locations, bank account numbers, everything. Your victory will come even more quickly that you can have ever imagined, and untold lives and property will have been saved. What do you say?"
Superman was puzzled by the offer. Certainly he feared what the insane rage of Luthor might do as he faced his Waterloo, and the offer to surrender quietly so much valuable information was irresistible, but what was the "one final victory" to which Luthor referred?
"What is it you want, Luthor? I won't let you harm any human being or what is theirs, in any way."
"It's so simple Superman. You come to my secret headquarters - I will give you the coordinates - every evening for seven nights. You be my slave, subject to my every whim on these visits. And at the end of the seven nights I give you all that you want and surrender to you. Without kryptonite I cannot harm you, and you will not be asked to act against any human being or participate in any destructive act. Furthermore, over these seven nights, I will put a hold on all of the activities of my organisation."
"It sounds sick Luthor. Totally typical of you."
"Perhaps, but at least as I go into retirement I will be comforted by the knowledge that for one week of my life I had achieved my greatest conquest, Superman as my slave, obedient to my will. My offer stands until midnight. If you haven't accepted by then, I unleash the whirlwind and we end in a storm of destruction." The offer was of course too good to turn down. To save so many lives, so much property, and put an end to the Luthor organisation, was a dream come true. And without kryptonite, what could Luthor do to harm him? He would suffer at most some humiliation, even degradation, for a brief time, but it was surely worth it for what was on offer. Yet he couldn't help wondering if their was some unexpected twist to this that he has not foreseen. A mind as brilliant and devious as Luthor's could come up with anything...
Four night's later, Superman glided into the steep canyon side of a massive open cut galena mine. The lead in the mineral deposits distorted his x-ray vision and he could not penetrate into the surface of the mine walls, artificial cliffs which hung ominously over the deep wound in the Earth which was the mine. Just as Luthor had told him, there was the slight overhang which cleverly concealed a small rough balcony and the wide entry into the fortress within; Luthor's hitherto secret headquarters.
He silently glided onto the balcony then walked into the room beyond, a palatial hall lined with marble and lit with elegant electric chandeliers. At the far ends of the hall were massive oak doors, which his vision easily penetrated, and beyond these corridors led to many rooms. But the walls, floors and ceiling, buil as they were against lead-laden ore deposits, were impenetrable to his gaze.
Luthor stood at the centre of the room alongside a long, richly dressed dining table, set to accommodate 24 guests. Along the far side of the hall, standing against the wall with their hand clasped in front of them, were five huge, heavily muscled men clad in wrestler briefs and boots. No-one else was present.
"Ah Superman, you arrogant cunt, you came as promised. Your triumph is at hand, I concede that, bit this next week belongs to me, we agree?"
"Agreed Luthor. Let me just clarify the terms one last time..."
"Just as I promised Superman. You do my bidding as my slave over these next seven nights, here in my headquarters, and on the final night I will give you this..." and he held up a hollow silver cylinder, about 30 centimetres long and 8 centimetres round, with a bulbous screwtop end... " within which will be a list of all the names, locations and accounts I promised. After that you fly me to Washington to surrender me to the FBI, and the contract is complete. Agreed?"
"Agreed Luthor. I'm here as promised. Your slave for the next four hours. What do you want?"
"Tonight I have planned a banquet for friends and associates. You will wait on us, serve us our food and drink with the appropriate deference and politeness of a trained waiter. And you will finish the evening by doing the washing up. Understand?"
"That's 'Yes Sir, Mr. Luthor'". Superman quietlt bit his lip and paused for a brief second.
"Yes Sir, Mr. Luthor."
"Good boy. Now if you go through that door you will find the kitchen. Gustav and his staff will direct your work. Go boy."
Superman walked towards the door confident in his safety but still tentatively wondering how the night would pan out. Through the closed door he could see the chef and sous-chef at work in the kitchen. He walked in and waited.
"Ah, the staff!" said Gustav in a thick Bavarian accent. "You uniform is there on the chair. Get into it then uncork the wine. It's a good year. It deserves to breathe."
Superman looked at the chair and chuckled to himself at what lay on it. An oversized french maid's outfit: skimpy black dress, white apron with a heart-shaped bodice, fishnet tights, white cap, and black stilletoes in a size no french maid ever wore. So this was Luthor's game. Humiliation. But the tall Kryptonian only smiled as he shed his famous skintight costume and began to don the outfit of a sexual tease. His self-esteem was immune to this sort of attempt. He would wear the costume, even play along as Luthor required. At the end of the day he would remain Superman and be one day closer to his longed-for victory over the arch-criminal. Luthor could have his brief triumph; it would all come to nothing.
Truthfully, it galled Superman not to be able to apprehend the criminal guests there and then. Luthor it transpired had told them that Superman had come under his power via a secret drug which rendered him obedient to Luthor's will. Many he recognised as leaders within Luthor's vast multi-faceted organisation; drug barons, murderers, pimps and thieves. But he would have the last laugh. They had no idea that at the end of the week Luthor would hand all of them, and their many underlings, over to him on a plate. Let them have their fun for now.
And so the first night passed. The "french maid" served the wine and food. "She" allowed the roaming hands of the guests to wander under the skirt and feel the naked flesh beneath; the costume had no pants. "She" bent from the waist when guests "accidentally" dropped their cutlery onto the floor, allowing her massively muscled butt and the rosebud within full exposure to the ogling eyes. She stood and chatted in a light French accent when guests involved her in conversation, pretending not to notice the hand under the skirt firmly stroking "her" growing cock. And she only laughed when her generous "eggs" were grasped and displayed as comparisons to the grapefruit on the table.
When the guests had finally gone, throwing ribald final comments as Luthor's five muscled henchmen showed them out through the oak doors, Superman returned one final time to the kitchen. In superfast time he washed and dried all crockery and kitchenware, much to Gustav's delight, then changed back into his regular costume and strode out towards the balcony.
"Same time tomorrow, Kitten," mocked Luthor with a wink. Superman gave a brief cursory nod then launched himself off the balcony into the dark void beyond. In mere seconds he was once again home in Clark Kent's Metropolis apartment. As he showered, his mind wandered between mild disgust at the game he'd been the focus of earlier that night, to subtle amusement at the immature sexual nonsense of it all, but most of all to the expectation of ultimate triumph in six more days.
He slept soundly, only slightly troubled by dreams of rape and servitude. But that, of course, was only a fantasy.
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 2: The Second Night
On the second night of Superman's contract with Luthor the massive galena mine was lashed by savage winds and torrential rain. The powerful Kryptonian flew through it virtually without noticing the howling gale and jagged lightning; he was too preoccupied with pondering what was to come... The evening before had been little more than a lewd child's game that he had played along with, knowing it was of little consequence to his final victory and Luthor's ultimate defeat. What would the arch-criminal have in mind for tonight? With the planet free of kryptonite he could not harm the Man of Steel, and their agreement would not allow him to cause harm to anyone else. Superman grinned wryly. Let Luthor have his little games; his downfall was certain.
Superman's powerful vision penetrated the weather with ease and honed in on the camouflage overhang and the balcony beneath, now curtained by a veil of water, a temporary waterfall masking it from all but the superbeing and his penetrating gaze. With an immaculate grace he alighted on the balcony, immediately meeting the gaze of his host who stood expectantly within the large hall, grinning inscrutably. Luthor drank in the vision of the perfect male form standing before him. No wonder he was the most desired being on the planet. But Luthor's interest in Superman was not sexual; well, not in the sense of desire at least. His thoughts turned more to vengeance and humiliation and he knew secretly within that the time was coming, inexorably.
Superman met and held Luthor's gaze for a few seconds, then his whole form seemed to blur momentarily. His exquisite muscle control sent rapid vibrations throughout his body, and in less than a second he was dry, the water steaming off in a cloud of vapour.
"Welcome Kal-el." Luthor's use of Superman's birth name was an unwanted intimacy and intrusion that made no impression.
"Well Luthor, what do you have in mind for tonight? You have me once again for four hours, then twenty more over the remainder of the week, and then your criminal reign comes to an end. We might as well get on with it."
"So keen! I guess you must have really enjoyed yourself last night. You certainly entered into the spirit of things!" Luthor grinned broadly and gave a low chuckle. He allowed his eyes to wander openly up and down the tall muscular frame. The cloak draped imperiously down over the broad, proud shoulders like the robe of a warrior prince. Luthor coveted that cloak. He suppressed an inner shudder of delight at the thought that soon it would be his to wrap about himself in triumphant glee.
"Shall we just get on with it?" The tone of disgust and disdain was clear in Superman's voice. He made no attempt to disguise his attitude to Luthor whom he regarded as the lowest form of life, a man of supreme ability and intelligence who had chosen to pervert his natural gifts to the service of his own ego and personal power. The sooner the world was rid of him, the better.
"Indeed we shall. You'll find your costume for tonight's entertainment in there," Luthor pointed at a door further down the hall from the door that Superman knew led to the kitchen. He was puzzled as he strode towards the heavy wood and iron door. Hi x-ray vision revealed a small, bare room, empty apart from a small stool. No sign of any costume. He entered and the door closed heavily behind him. Closer examination of the stool revealed a brown leather dog-collar studded with steel rivets. So this was to be his costume.
"Put it on, Superfreak," came Luthor's voice over a hidden intercom, "and leave your regular costume on the wall hooks for now."
Gritting his teeth and reminding himself that all of this would soon be little more than a brief memory, Superman complied. He stripped naked, hung his costume on the wall hooks, and buckled the dog collar around his neck. Being naked except for the collar had a weird psychological effect on the alien hero. Despite his loathing for Luthor and disgust at the criminal's sick sense of humour, he was oddly aroused, and he felt a stirring in his lower abdomen as his balls began to contract within their skin bag and his member slightly lengthened and stiffened.
"Play along, get it over with, then get out of here," he told himself. "Two nights down and five to go."
On the wall was another exit from the room, a low swing door, hinged at the top and only a few feet in height. On it was written "THIS WAY" and so he knelt down and crawling forward pushed the swing door in and up and entered a narrow low tunnel. It was a tight squeeze for his tall muscly frame and he had to crawl on elbows and knees to negotiate his way. After a few seconds he came to an apparent dead-end but a slight nudge against the lead-lined end wall showed that it too was a door, sprung and hinged at the base so that it opened away and down and he was able to crawl awkwardly out of the tunnel and into another room.
As he did so he noticed high-heeled feet and legs encased in fishnet tights. She towered over him as he knelt and crawled, and as his head and shoulders emerged she bent and clipped a chain leash to the collar.
"Stay boy. Good dog," came the husky voice, much deeper than he had expected, and he felt large hand stroking his hair. He glanced up from his crouched position, eyes surveying first the long heavy legs, then the bulging leather jockstrap, the hairy stomach and leather bolero top. "She" was no lady. A middle-aged bearded face leered down at him.
"Who's a good boy then?"
He stuttered in reply, "I... I suppose I am..."
"BAD DOG!" The end of the chain slapped across his exposed buttocks. "We don't use words! We're a dog, aren't we? WE BARK!"
Superman lowered his eyes and gave a soft "Yip." So this was to be the game. Well, he had survived being a manhandled French maid; he could survive a few hours as someone's puppy.
"That's better. Good boy." A tug on the chain indicated they were going "walkies". The leather-clad master led the Man of Steel on the leash, crawling on all fours. Superman could now see the large room held many couches and armchairs, all occupied by men of various ages dressed in leather, from young college aged men barely into their twenties, to grey-whiskered octogenarians. All smiled expectantly.
"Who wants to inspect my puppy?" asked the grinning master, as he led his pet into the centre of the room. There were immediate calls of "Yes!" "Me!" and "Bring that tail over here!"
Superman was led like an obedient and submissive animal on all fours around the room, from one ogling fetishist to the next, all drinking in his superb naked form and rippling muscles. Hands stroked across his back, petted his head, and ran between his legs, feeling the firm inner thighs and massaging the large pendulous balls. Fingers invaded his ass-crack and toyed at the rosebud entry to his most private region. His large semi-stiff organ felt hands wrap around it, tracing the pulsing veins and circumcision scar, and toying with the piss slit lips moist with the first traces of pre-cum. The proud Kryptonian struggled to maintain composure. Despite his arousal and apparent response he had to fight to remain compliant and submit to the humiliating play of the giggling men in leather. Only by constantly reminding himself that this degradation would soon be over and was a small price to pay for the final outcome was he able to supress his urge to overpower them.
And so the next four hours passed. The obedient "dog" was the pet and plaything of the leather-clad men, allowing every indignity their wandering hands demanded and following all of their commands to beg, roll over, fetch, play dead, and run around the room while being spanked and ridden like a horse. Especially popular was the instruction to roll on his back and allow his tummy, cock and balls to be scratched and tickled.
"Still nicely equipped for breeding," observed the bearded master. "Maybe we'll neuter it later. Those balls would make a nice set of earrings." Superman met his smirk with one of his own; he knew, as did they, that there wasn't a knife on the planet that could cut penetrate his invulnerable skin. He would enjoy putting this pervert behind bars in the very near future.
After several hours of deviant attention, with the submissive pet spreadeagled on his back while men crowded around him wiping pre-cum from the tip of his cock and tasting it ("Mmmm, nice texture!", "Lovely! Just enough salt!") a door suddenly opened and one of Luthor's burly guards strode into the room. Without comment the leather men began to exit, the "master" last of all, turning briefly as he departed and calling "Bye-bye Bow wow," to the naked Superman, still sprawled on the floor, before disappearing into the corridor beyond.
Luthor's guard threw the famous red, blue and yellow costume across the room to Superman, then turned and left without comment. Superman quickly dressed and walked out of the room and down a short corridor into the empty silent main hall. The lights had been dimmed and outside the storm had eased to quiet rain falling softly beyond the balcony.
With a brief sigh he launched himself into the darkness, relieved that his second night of servitude had come to an end. Despite his humiliating treatment he felt no sense of degradation. Everything he was subjecting himself to was without doubt for a greater good. And yet throughout the next day star reporter Clark Kent was deeply distracted and preoccupied, his brow furrowed and his thoughts constantly turning to the evening to come...
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 3: The Third Night
Clark Kent left work early that day, citing stomach cramps, and within minutes a red-cloaked figure sat pensively upon a rock ledge high above the deep chasm of an abandoned galena mine. And indeed, there were strange stirrings in the abdomen of the confused Kryptonian. At first contemptuous of the lewd activities his contract with Luthor had imposed on him, he found himself disconcertingly aroused by the memories and wondering with heightened pulse about the night to come. His hand wandered unconsciously to the growing bulge between his legs and he gave a sharp gasp as he realised he had begun to masturbate as he thought about the possibilities. What was happening to him? Why had he arrived at Luthor's lair a full two hours before the appointed time? Why was the humiliation of becoming a compliant sex-toy so unexpectedly arousing?
He silently berated himself for his lapse in self-discipline and was about to soar away into the clouds when the whirr of helicopter rotors caught his attention. Heading directly towards where he sat was a sleek black chopper emblazoned in gold with infamous double L logo of Lex Luthor. Superman stood as the elegant craft drew alongside and hovered a few bare metres away. A puzzled Luthor sat in the passenger seat staring quizzically at his super foe.
"It's not regarded as good manners to arrive two hours early for a date babe; you're not pulling out of our contract I hope?"
"I.. ah.. no." Stammered the embarrassed Man of Steel. "I just.. I was in the vicinity.."
Luthor gave a knowing grin.
"At the speed you travel, everywhere is in the vicinity. No. Something made you want to be early. Hey! You don't have to lie to me, Honey, I know how this stuff can get you in, hehe." The criminal mastermind's snickering and the knowledge that he had been caught out brought the blood to Superman's cheeks but there was nothing he could do to deny it. In a bewildering and unexpected way the experiences of the previous nights had had a seductive effect and caused him to betray the idealised concept he had of himself as a champion of good and the moral order. Damn it! He would not let it happen again.
"You can believe what you like, Luthor. I'm here early to keep my side of the bargain but I expect to finish early too! You have five more nights to play your sick games and then I get my side of the deal."
"Sorry to disappoint you, bitch, but our arrangement says a 7 o'clock start and we have some preparations to do before we can begin tonight's little session, You're gonna have to cool your heels here for awhile I'm afraid. Hey, maybe you'd like a little light reading while you wait?" And with that he tossed a couple of thick glossy magazines at Superman. The helicopter dropped the short distance down to the balcony entrance to Luthor's hidden fortress and Luthor walked imperiously across a gangway and into the hall beyond. Superman dropped his eyes and began to look through the "reading material" Luthor had thrown to him.
The cover of the first magazine bore an explicit picture of a muscular male ass spread wide and pointing its rosebud at the camera. The model was clad in the costume of a French maid and, indeed, the title in lurid pink read "THE NAUGHTY MAID". He stared in horror at page after page of himself from two nights before primping and posing pants-less in the little black skirt, allowing and even seeming to welcome the ogling eyes and grasping hands of a room full of gangster overlords. Cock, balls and ass were on display from every angle. He was seen sitting on men's laps while they fondled his genitals and bending over while they stroked his firm cheeks. Every moment had been captured by the camera and printed in high definition.
Horrified he turned to the other magazine, knowing already what he would find. The title was simply "POOCH" and the cover showed a naked Superman sitting up in begging position with dog collar and lead while a leather clad bearded man stood behind him holding him by the hair. Again it seemed that every moment of the indignity of the previous night had been captured by the hidden cameras. He saw himself crawling, chasing, sitting and rolling over in the role of an obedient and compliant dog. He saw his body being handled in the most intimate of manners by the roomful of leather-men, and most mortifying of all, he saw close-up after close-up of his erect cock dripping with pre-cum at his obvious excitement and his ball-sack tight with undoubted arousal.
Furious, he flew down and into the hall and bellowed "Luthor!!!"
Luthor appeared nonchalantly at the far end door.
"You seem a little upset. Didn't you like the snaps? I thought they were a most comprehensive record of events."
"You lieing, cheating scum, Luthor. Our contract never said anything about photos!"
"LISTEN SUPERFAG! Our contract said you were to submit to my desires and if my desires include taking photos, then I take photos, got it?! Or do you want out of the contract? You know the consequences if you do!"
And indeed he did; the death of thousands and wholesale destruction. He glared with hatred at his nemesis and ground his teeth but there was nothing he could do.
"Well now, if you're finished your little tantrum you can wait on the balcony. I'll call you when we're ready."
For the best part of the next two hours Superman leaned on the balcony rail, looking down into the chasm below. His mind turned again and again to the images he had seen, and after awhile the initial shock faded and was replaced by something different. He began to feel a strange sense of liberation at being exposed in so explicit and undignified a manner. He began to know in a small way the ecstasy of the exhibitionist and, while he could not yet quite admit it, it was both alluring and seductive. His was indeed a beautiful body; why shouldn't it be shared? "Play time!" came the voice of Luthor from behind and he turned to see that the hall had been transformed into what resembled a nursery. There was an oversized baby's play gym, changing table, cot and various other accoutrements. Standing around the perimeter were about a dozen young men and women dressed in stylish casual daywear and all leering directly at him. A tall blonde college type took a few steps towards the Man of Steel, crouched and spoke:
"Hey baby! Crawl to Daddy! Daddy wants to play with you."
"And Mommy too!" The words came from a stunning brunette whose deep dark eyes focussed intently on their subject. Superman's eyes narrowed as their power revealed what would be hidden to all but the most discerning of human eyes, the subtle growth of follicles on the beard-line, and slight variation of skeletal frame, that revealed this "Mommy" to be the most desirable of transvestites. He understood immediately what was expected of him, and sank to the floor. Just as he had the previous night he began to make his way across the floor on all fours.
"Ah, there's Daddy's little man!" The young man took the Kryptonian chin in his hands and patted a cheek.
"Bath time!" said "Mommy" and the two of them began to undress their invulnerable "baby". He lay back compliantly and allowed their hands to remove every item of clothing until he was lying there naked, exposed to every eye in the room, and undoubtedly to many concealed lenses. Already his impressive organ had started to respond to the handing and the suggestion of the game to come and had become semi-erect.
"Ooh, Mommy's little man is growing into a big boy!" Giggles tittered around the room. With unexpected strength the "parents" lifted their naked baby towards a large plastic bathtub and lowered their charge into warm soapy water.
"Let's get this boy nice and clean!"
"Don't miss anything!" Luthor's voice was unmistakeable.
"Don't worry, we won't," smirked the transvestite as her soapy hands slipped over the shoulders, chest and stomach, and slid down between the legs. While she carefully massaged the hardening cock and loose warm ball-sack her "husband" was busy at the other end, shampooing the famous black locks, and massaging the scalp. Superman lay back and gave himself over to the sensual overload. His hips moved slowly in time with the red-nailed hand moving over his genitals, between his legs, exploring the gap between his butt-cheeks and toying with the little pink eye which was the doorway to his inner world. He exhaled long and softly as he felt his arousal grow and grow. As "Daddy" continued to massage the scalp he moved his face closer to the "baby's".
"Whose Daddy's good little boy?" he asked and rubbed his nose against Superman's cheek. His tongue slowly made its way across the celebrated face; over the eyes, the cheeks, the chin and jaw, up to the ear and into the opening. His teeth began to nibble lightly on the lobe and Superman felt his dick harden further and the first subtle urge of an impending orgasm. He could feel the warmth of the young man's breath on his face and intuitively moved his face towards the tongue, opening his mouth as he did so. Faces met and his mouth was soon filled with the deep, firm wetness of the handsome college boy's probing tongue. By now his hips were slowly thrusting up and down in time with the long strokes and the firm grip upon his fully engorged cock.
Just as he felt himself moving inexorably towards cumming, without comment "Mommy" and "Daddy" disengaged from their "baby" and moved away grinning to the perimeter of the hall. At the same time a similar couple moved towards the bath. Delicately, gingerly they took over the bathing, with sparing, light touches that put eased back on the level of arousal and stemmed the tide of the gathering orgasm.
This time it was "Daddy" who took over bathing the groaning superhero's nether regions. One strong hand gripped the magnificent cock while the other toyed with the bulging red glans and fingered the wide lips of the slit, now dripping free-flowing pre-cum. His "female" partner held the handsome head in a tight embrace and kissed the gaping mouth deep and slow.
The hands on his cock now moved to the large firm balls, massaging them until the scrotum tightened and drew their large round orbs close to the base of the engorged organ. The massage continued as one hand now moved deep between the buttocks and a large finger slid easily into the waiting hole. Superman drew a deep breath as the finger went deep into his body and the tip began to stroke the fluid filled prostate.
But again the sensual massage abruptly ended just short of the impending release, and another couple took over the expert edging. And so it continued until every one of the ten couples in the room had played at length with their helpless super baby. and all the while a smiling Luthor looked on triumphantly.
When the final couple had ceased their play, they lifted Superman out of the bath, lay him on a large bath towel and dried him roughly. He was then lifted again onto a nearby changing table, where he was smeared with baby oil, patted and powdered with talc. All twenty then gathered around and lifted their "baby" into a baby chair, patting and stroking him all over. With forty hands seeking pints of contact his whole body was totally alive with sensation. His pulse quickened, his breath grew rapid, and his balls and cock strained for release.
"Must be nearly time to feed our baby," Luthor hissed, and one of the transvestites picked up a bowl and spoon from close by. "She" began now to rigorously milk the massive cock, while other hands rapidly fingered the asshole and prostate, and rigorously rubbed the balls. Fingers tweaked his nipples and tongues invaded his ears and mouth.
With a cry of exultation mixed with desperation Superman released his cum. The orgasm lasted a full minute with spurt after spurt of hot sticky fluid shooting into the waiting bowl.
"Milk him completely! Leave nothing inside," came the order from Luthor, and the greedy hands continued their tugging, stroking and rubbing until every last drop of Kryptonian cum had shot or dripped into the bowl. Superman's cries turned to groans and whimpers, then faded to sighs as the milking finally ceased.
"Dinner time, baby," smiled the "Mommy" holding the bowl. "Open up baby, here comes the aeroplane!"
Reluctantly, almost fearfully the naked superhero opened his mouth, compelled by the contract he had entered into. He had never tasted cum, never even thought to, now his mouth was filled with spoonful after spoonful of the hot sticky mucous.
"Swallow for Daddy. There's a good boy." And he gulped down his body's own secretions as commanded, until the whole bowl was empty, at which point the laughing feeder wiped the cummy spoon across his face and placed filthy bowl on his head like a hat.
"Nighty night baby."
Then each of the twenty in turn kissed him on the lips and silently exited the hall. Last to leave was Luthor himself, grinning widely.
"Sleep well bubs. Catch you tomorrow!"
Superman sat quietly in the baby chair for a long time before moving. Slowly, despondently he dressed in the world-renowned blue, yellow and red costume and headed towards the balcony and the beckoning night sky.
A silent figure, lost deep in thought, floated high above the planet until early morning, then quietly flew into his Metropolis apartment. He stripped and lay sleepless in his bed. As much as he wanted to forget the events of the evening past, he could not. He had been touched and violated in ways he had never imagined. But worse than this was one unassailable truth: he had never cum like that before in his life, never experienced an orgasm even remotely as powerful.
And he wanted more.
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 4: The Fourth Night
Clark Kent did not front for work at The Daily Planet the next day but rang in sick, once again blaming abdominal issues. The truth was a little lower in his trunk. He had not slept well, hardly at all in fact, and although impervious to tiredness there was nevertheless a disquiet about him.
He spent the day laying naked in his bed, his mind occupied by memories of the previous three nights and the unexpected and almost overpowering arousal that he had experienced. Luthor's attempts at humiliation had awakened a sexual hunger that demanded attention. His cock felt hot and hard in his hand and for the first time in his life he allowed his fingers to explore his hole, pushing through his sphincter to find that sweet spot that sent a shiver through his body and quickened his orgasm.
Once again he arrived early at Luthor's headquarters and this time the two men exchanged knowing looks when Luthor's helicopter flew in. Smirking, Luthor silently handed a third glossy magazine to the expectant Kryptonian, this one entitled NURSERY TIME. Superman greedily flipped through the more than 100 pages filled with captions and photos of the previous night's play. Then he looked through again, this time allowing himself to linger on the images and the memories they evoked.
There were shots from every angle of his long session in the bath, when one set of "parents" after another bathed and played with him without restraint. He recalled the ecstasy of total obedience and passivity, as he had lain back in the bath while hands, fingers and mouths explored and played at will. He remembered that first almost electric surprise of fingers entering his virgin hole, finding his prostate and making it theirs.
He remembered the delicious taste of humiliation and surrender as he had allowed himself to be dried and powdered like a baby, and there was the evidence in photo after photo, his eyes closed or glazed, his lips parted in soft sighs, his tumescent cock straining hard and flowing pre-cum, his balls tight in their sack.
And then, the piece de resistance, the orgaistic milking in the baby chair when multiple hands had felt, stroked, played and finally milked him, until his balls had given up every last drop of the hot sticky white liquid that had then become his evening meal. And the final images of him almost unconscious, exhausted, silently sitting alone in the chair, the cummy bowl like a lop-sided hat dripping trails of cum through his hair and down his face.
When it was time for him to once again enter Luthor's hall, he had spent two hours leafing through the magazine and dwelling on his experiences of the previous night. A strange shift had taken place in his psyche. He had begun to think of Luthor differently; if not as a friend then at least as a sort of sexual mentor, a man experienced in the ways of a world in which Superman was a total novice. Luthor was opening him up to a new awareness of self he could never have discovered by himself, left to his former lifestyle and understanding. Perhaps, once the week was past and Luthor had been taken into custody, they could negotiate some continuation of the relationship? Perhaps he could arrange for some special treatment, some luxuries for the master criminal soon to be convict, in return for a continued education in the ways of the flesh? One thing was certain; his eyes had been opened and he would not go back to a life devoid of sensuality.
As he entered Luthor's hall from the balcony entrance, he was surprised to see it devoid of any special preparations. Luthor stood alone in the centre, his six burly thugs in their wrestlers' outfits lined up against the far wall. Luthor looked him squarely in the eye:
"Well Superman? Did you enjoy the read?"
"Yes, I did," answered the caped superhero quietly, almost passively. For the first time there was a noticeable shift in status between the two men. Without any overt statement to the effect, it was clear that Superman had acknowledged Luthor's superior mastery of the world of sensuality and that his Kryptonian nemesis was the novice and ingenue.
"Good. I thought you might." And his broad grin signalled his growing inner sense of impending triumph. The Man of Steel would soon be putty in his hands.
"I thought I would prepare you myself for tonight's fun. Come here. I'm going to dress you."
A shiver went through Superman as he walked to the centre of the room where Luthor awaited. He knew that he was surrendering much more of himself and his will than he had ever intended when he first agreed to this bizarre contract, but the allure of the world of strange sex he had been introduced to was too strong and he found himself obeying despite his better judgement. Curiosity and anticipation raced through his brain, and the possibility of the erotic adventure ahead caused his cock to stir within his red briefs.
"Strip," came the firm instruction from Luthor, and without hesitation Superman began to remove his famous red, yellow and blue costume. As each element of clothing fell to the floor, Luthor bent down, picked it up and held it out for one of this thugs to take hold of. Superman was soon standing completely naked in the centre of the hall, his now fully erect cock standing as an impressive token of his readiness to participate.
"Good. Now let's get you primed and ready." Luthor stepped close to his naked enemy and began to lightly stroke the superhard flesh lightly, beginning at the shoulders, working down over the nipples, the fully formed abs and belly until he came in contact with the swollen red helmet cap moist with its salty secretion. Squeezing and stroking he milked the pre-cum until his hand was wet, then wiped it over the trunk and buttocks of the now heavily breathing nude hunk. He repeated the action again and again until Superman's body gleamed with liquid and his cock felt ready to burst. His egg-sized balls were held high and hard in their tight sack against the base of his erect organ as further sign of his total arousal.
"Now let's put this on." sais Luthor and he took a white hospital gown from one of his men, moved behind Superman, and, wrapping his arms around his compliant foe, pulled the sleeves of the gown up over the muscled arms. He tied it securely behind Superman's neck so that the opening was at the back, and the butt crack was still clearly visible.
"Come with me." He took one of the huge strong hands and walked Superman to the far end of the hall, to a lead-lined wooden door. He opened it and led him into what looked to be large science classroom. The wall at the far end was covered with an electronic whiteboard in front of which was a long demonstration desk covered in scientific equipment. Behind the desk and looking directly at them was a beautiful statuesque red-haired woman, perhaps 40 years of age, wearing glasses and a lab coat. Between her and them were around 25 students desks and chairs, all occupied by young college age men and women. They all turned to look as Luthor closed the door.
"Ah," said the 'teacher', "our volunteer demonstrator has arrived. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Kal-el, who has offered to help us with our learning and investigations today. Please give him a round of applause."
With a firm nudge from Luthor, Superman began to walk tentatively past the applauding "students" towards the front of the room. He was intensely aware of their eyes on him as he strode past them, revealing the opening at the back of the gown and his exposed body beneath. The teacher walked around the desk to meet him and, placing her hands on his shoulders, turned him to face the class.
"Male anatomy 101 will now commence," she announced, and with that she deftly untied the gown and let if fall tot he floor. There were smiles of approval from the staring students, and several soft whistles, as Superman's body was presented to them in its complete perfection.
"Now let us examine the visible male sex organs. You can see that this penis, or cock, is fully erect and is emitting Cowpers' Fluid or pre-cum as it is colloquially known. This fluid is flowing nicely from Kal-el's urethral slit here at the top of his glans, which is the swollen red helmet at the end of his cock." As she said this she ran her polished nail along the 8" shaft from base to tip, circled the glans and tickled the dripping slit.
"You can see the firmness of Kale-el's erection," she said, and pushed the stiff organ down hard until it pointed towards the floor, then released it so that it sprang back quickly, slapping against the beautiful smooth belly, and sending a spray of pre-cum into the air. "Would any of you like to test the firmness of the erection?"
About a third of the class, boys and girls, immediately left their seats and gathered around the teacher and her naked model. A pretty young blonde girl of about 19 was the first to test. She squeezed the cock hard and pushed it down with her full body weight. Superman inhaled deeply feeling an strange excitement at the humiliation and exposure. The girl released the engorged organ and again it slapped up hard against Superman's body, flicking pre-cum onto several of the students, who laughed out loud and wiped it from their clothes and faces. The fun was then repeated by two other girls and one of the boys, and impressive college jock.
"Can I try an experiment, Miss Taylor?" asked one of the boys.
"Of course, Troy. This is a Science class after all."
"I want to measure the power of the elasticity."
Troy took Superman by the cock and used it as a lead to take him to the other side of the desk.
"Lie on your back on the desk, so that your head is towards the door and your feet towards the whiteboard," ordered Troy, and Superman obeyed, confused but compliant. Troy took up a position between the naked man's legs, facing along his prone body towards the door. He took a firm hold of the hard wet cock, pulled it as far as he could towards himself, then released it suddenly. Pre-cum sprayed high over Superman and into classroom in the direction of the door, splattering onto the floor.
"How far did it go?" asked Troy. "Gus, get a tape and measure the distance." And a skinny little boy in glasses jumped up and grabbed a tape measure from a shelf. Troy held the end of the tape on Superman's cockhead while Gus ran it out into the room.
"Just under 5 metres," he announced.
"Hey," called out another jock-type, "I bet we can make the door with a bit of preparation."
"Go for it!" "Yea, do it Tony!" Calls of encouragement filled the room.
Tony strode arrogantly around to the crotch of the prone Superman, who was now breathing heavily at the arousing effect of being made into a Science room guinea pig and plaything for college students.
"First I'm gonna prime this baby." said Tony, and he grabbed the cock in both hands and started expertly working it, stroking it and twisting it round and round until Superman's sighs turned to deep groans, and his hips began involuntarily to work in time with the jock boy's milking. Pre-cum flowed profusely, wetting cock, hands, belly and balls in a sweet-smelling salty flood. He couldn't believe he was allowing himself to be played with in such humiliating fashion by this young fit boy in front of a classroom full of whooping college kids but the fascination and sexual urge was too strong to resist. Such total surrender of control and dignity was overpowering.
"Hey Tony, you keep that up, you're gonna get more than pre-cum from that cock!" called a petite blonde standing close alongside, her eyes wide at the close-up view she was getting of the beautiful body and cock being expertly dominated. She couldn't resist the temptation to touch and she added her hand to Tony's, paying special attention to the throbbing red glans and the swollen vein running the full length of the shaft, so that three hands were now squeezing and stroking the amazing organ.
"Here we go!" shouted Tony, and he pulled back hard with both hands, let the cock go, and sent a veritable shower of pre-cum flying into the room.
The room was filled with applause and cheers as the sticky liquid found its mark and splashed into the door at the far end of the room.
"Well done, Tony," said Miss Taylor, "You have effectively demonstrated the powerful elasticity of Kal-el's erect penis. Now, Kal-el, resume your previous position standing at the front of the room." And as Tony and the blonde returned to the class, taking high fives as they did, the teacher pulled Superman up by his cock and led him around to the front of the desk.
Superman was still breathing heavily, and his head was spinning from the uncontrollable seduction of submissive exhibitionism. He knew he was being used and exploited by Luthor and the participants of this classroom game but he was a totally willing and enthusiastic victim.
"Now class, we have seen Tony's inventive approach to the use of a hard cock. Imagination is the core of scientific exploration. I want you all now to see how many uses you can come up with for this tumescent penis, and demonstrate these for us."
Superman stood there obediently, cooperating completely as one after another the students came forward to demonstrate their ideas for using his cock. The first girl showed how it could double as a metronome, slapping it hard from side to side in a steady beat as her classmates urged her on. Next was "a springboard for insects" and once again pre-cum flew upwards as the supercock was pressed down hard and released repeatedly. A conductor's baton was next, and then a ventriloquist's puppet, which saw a fat boy working the lips of the piss slit like a mouth in time with the song "Danny Boy".
"It would make a good dental swab," suggested a thin girl with braces, and she knelt in front of the humiliated superhero and, grabbing his cock in both hands, began to work it around the inside of her mouth, licking it and taking as much of it she could deep into her throat. The urge to cum was almost overpowering now but a stern "Don't you dare" from Miss Taylor made him exert his self-control for the moment.
After several more creative ideas, including "hand warmer" and "paint brush" (which saw pre-cum smeared directly all over the whiteboard) the final suggestion came from Miss Turner herself.
"I was thinking 'hand cream dispenser' to finish with," she said, "But why not face cream? Kal-el, please climb back onto the table on your back, and curl over so that your knees are alongside your ears."
Superman did as he was told and was soon on his back, curled up with his toes touching the table and his magnificent ass pointing at the ceiling. His cock was now immediately above his face, pointing at it and dripping pre-cum onto his eyes. The students stood all around enjoying the spectacle of the mighty superhero in the most undignified and vulnerable position possible.
Two strong young men grabbed onto the cock and began tugging and milking it hard and fast. The pre-cum flowed freely, thoroughly wetting the Man of Steel's face. The swollen red head was now hot, pulsing and throbbing. The veins bulged as if ready to burst. A short-haired butch-looking girl grabbed a large thick test-tube and knelt on the table, pressing herself against Superman's raised back.
"This will help," she said, and inserted the long test-tube deep into his ass. He gave an involuntary inhalation and groan as she started pumping the instrument in and out, using it as a thick glass dildo, and contacting his fluid-filled prostate at every plunge.
Superman's breathing increased in rapidity and strength as he felt the impending orgasm. The boys tugged quicker and harder and the girl increased her furious work with the dildo, working it as fast and as hard as she could.
"Aaaaahhhhhhhh!!!" With a loud wail and cry, and a mixture of ecstasy and defeat, Superman orgasmed onto his face, almost half a litre of hot white Kryptonian sperm juice covering his world-renowned beauty. The three milkers continued their work until there were no further drops of cum while their classmates and teacher cheered and applauded.
Superman lay there exhausted and covered in his own cum. Two of the girls then bent over him and began to massage the hot sticky fluid into his face.
"Should make excellent face cream," one of them giggled.
"Hair gel too!" suggested one boy, and he filled his hand with cum from the still wet, now increasingly flaccid, cock and used it to tease a peak into the humiliated superhero's hair.
"Well done, everyone," said Miss Taylor. "Now we have just a little more to do before the end of class. Kal-el, if you are feeling up to it, I would like you to assume a position kneeling on the desk with your anus high, legs spread wide and your face on the desk."
"What next?" wondered the bewildered Superman but he obeyed without complaint or comment.
"Students, we have just seen some of the many uses for an erect cock, and Angela has demonstrated to us the efficacy of direct prostate stimulation in achieving orgasm. Now we shall investigate that particular organ more closely and observe its involvement in the process. Watch."
With that she opened a drawer in the desk and withdrew a long metal tube and a small clamp.
"With this speculum," she said, holding up the clamp, "we shall open wide Kal-el's anus and hold it in place. This sigmoidoscope will be entered into the exposed cavity and the camera in it will project the internal activities of his lower bowel onto the electronic whiteboard as we again stimulate him to orgasm. We should be able to observe the movements within the prostate during the process." "There go the last shreds of dignity and privacy," thought Superman, and yet he stayed where he had been ordered to, feeling his arousal return and awaited the invasion of the medical instruments.
With the students crowded around, the teacher clamped open the huge muscular ass with the speculum, exposing the pink interior for the first time to the world. Next she pushed in the long thin tube, the sigmoidoscope, and threw a switch at the base. Instantly an illuminated image of the Kryptonian's rectum appeared on the screen.
"Now watch the screen as I again milk semen from our volunteer."
Superman's cock had begun to grow hard again once she had begun the anal procedures. Now, with her hand firmly around its base, and repeatedly pulling down in milking fashion, it hardened again into a fully blown erection. The students' eyes moved with fascination between the image of the screen of the rectal pulses, and the action taking place before them as their teacher went about a rigorous miking of the magnificent stud. Superman began to groan again, softly at first and then louder and louder as his orgasm built.
"Miss," said the fat boy," as he's being milked, shouldn't he be making cow noises?"
"A good suggestion Roy. Kal-el, the only sounds I want to hear from you are those we would hear from a cow. Do you understand?"
"Yes," whispered Superman with a tone of defeat.
"Wrong!" She shouted, and slapped the cock hard.
"Mooooo!" said Superman.
As the rapid, almost violent milking resumed the students' eyes darted eagerly between the action on the desk, and the images on the screen of the pulsing prostate and rectum. The soft mooing from the object of their fascination quickly grew louder as once again pre-cum poured from the enlarged organ. The stroking and tugging quickened as if signalled by the increased volume and now the milking was going faster than ever. Faster and faster went the teacher's hand, louder and louder grew the lowing of the "cow" whose hips were now thrusting hard in time with the jerking. The image of the screen showed rapid pulsation and contraction, then with a deafening sound cum exploded out of the engorged cock and splattered across the desk.
"MOOOOOOOOOOO! Ahhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhh!" The teacher stopped the rapid milking but did not release the cock. Slowing her movements, she continued to lightly massage the still hard organ as the rain of cum petered out and the shouts from Superman turned to low sighs and heavy breathing.
"I would like all of you to come forward now, take advantage of this singular opportunity and take a direct look into this beautiful, perfect anus." And she withdrew the metal tube, leaving the clamp in place as the students one at a time looked deep into the Man of Steel's body. Some went further and inserted fingers and tongues in their uninhibited exploration. Hands and mouths explored balls, sack and cock as well as ass, as his entire body became theirs to play with. He breathed and sighed in ecstasy as legs, arms, face and body felt the sensual strokes of strong young hands over his entire body and soon he grew hard again, longing once more for orgasmic release.
Then as if by signal they all stepped back and away.
"The images from the sigmoidoscope have been captured as an AVI movie, and will be available on memory stick for more detailed study at home. If there are no questions, that concludes the lesson for today, class."
"Miss Taylor," said Tony, "Kal-el has made quite a mess on your desk. Is it right that the janitor should have to clean it up?"
"No. Good point Tony. Kal-el, you will need to lick that mess up before you go."
And the humbled superhero obediently dragged himself from the desk and lowered his tongue to the pools of semen which had shot from his cock just moments before.
"I think he deserves a spanking," said Angela with a smirk. "What do you think Miss Taylor."
"Undoubtedly he does but unfortunately the particular physiology of Kal-el renders a spanking useless. As a Kryptonian on Earth he would feel no sting, no pain from spanking. It would be waste of time resulting only in sore hands for the spankers."
"Not necessarily." It was Luthor's voice from the back of the classroom. He had sneaked in for the final part of the "lesson" revelling in Superman's relegation to milking beast.
"What do you mean?" asked the teacher.
"It's experimental of course, but we could use the Environmental Manipulator to enable our boy to experience the peculiar delights of S&M."
"Of course! It would have limited effect but yes, it would indeed provide the one possibility for his participation in the fine line between pleasure and pain. Perhaps we can explore that in future?" And with a broad grin, she and her class exited from the room.
Superman finished his mopping up with his tongue and turned to face Luthor who stood watching with a look of quiet delight on his face.
"Enjoy that, Superman?"
"It was... it... it was..." He paused uncomfortably. "Yes... It was amazing..."
"Three more nights to go and then it's all over."
"What's the Environmental Manipulator?"
"Ah. That interests you?"
"I'm... curious. I've heard that song you mentioned, 'There's a Fine Line Between Pleasure and Pain'. I never thought about it seriously before, but is it true? I've never felt physical pain so I I've never had that experience."
"The Manipulator is an experimental device my scientists have created. It can change the physics of a small space for a limited time so that it responds in specific ways to specific individuals. It would, might, allow us to create a room where for a little time you would experience the space as if it were on your home-world Krypton. You would be able to participate completely in some of our little games, and learn the delicious truth behind the song."
"It sounds... interesting.... I don't know."
"Think about it, tell me tomorrow." And with that he dropped the red, yellow and blue costume onto the floor in front of the naked hunk. "Time to go."
And with that he turned and walked from the room, leaving the cum-stained Kal-el to reflect on the experiences of the night just past, and speculate on the possibilities of the Environmental Manipulator.
CHAPTER 5: The Fifth Night
He stood a long time in the room, silently pondering the possibilities Luthor had opened up for him. His superhuman powers, his great strength, and his invulnerability set him apart from the rest of the world in almost demi-god fashion, but ironically they also isolated him from ordinary pleasures and experiences. The past four nights had given him the most intimate of encounters he had ever known, and now Luthor's mention of the experimental machine raised the possibility of an even more complete immersion into the sensuality from which he had been alienated. Almost unconsciously his hand slipped behind him and removed the speculum, letting it clatter to the floor, and his fingers slowly caressed his still dilated rosebud. He wondered what delightful invasions awaited him if Luthor could indeed deliver on his offer.
When at last he left the room, the main hall was empty and quiet, and soft moonlight flooded in through the balcony entrance. In seconds he was in his Metropolis apartment again. He quickly dressed in tracksuit and cap and walked out into the night. He spent the hours until sunrise wandering the sleazier streets of Metropolis, visiting sex shops to browse through magazines of assorted fetishes, sitting in booths and steadily stroking himself to videos of bondage and discipline. Back in his apartment, he lay naked on the bed throughout the day, masturbating and fingering to scene after scene of deviant sex on dvd. When the phone summoned, he let it ring out. And when he slept, his dreams were of Luthor's lair, and the machine called the Environmental Manipulator.
Around sunset, Luthor's helicopter arrived on schedule, and again the Man of Steel was waiting, impatient for the evening's play. He leafed hungrily through the proffered magazine, entitled Science Education. High definition close up photographs showed his body being played with by the young college students with no regard for his dignity. Humiliating captions accompanied the pics: "Watch That Pre-Cum Fly!"; "Milk That Cock Boys!" and "Lick It Up Bitch!" Despite the degrading nature of the pics and text, he found himself growing rapidly hard and longing for the evening's games to begin. He imagined how even more thrilling it would be if Luthor's device worked as predicted.
While the aroused Kryptonian pawed through the erotic depictions of his debasement outside on the ledge, Luthor and one of his technicians were examining the machine dubbed the Environmental Manipulator.
"What do you think Mr Luthor? Will it do?"
"It seems perfect," replied Luthor as he studied the stainless steel cylinder. It stood six feet high and had a diameter of about two feet, and was featureless except for a series of small flashing red and green LED lights running in a band around the middle of the device. It emitted a low, steady hum.
"Show me how it works."
"Well it's quite simple Mr Luthor. You press these up and down arrows on the remote to increase the rate of flashing, and these to raise and lower the volume of the hum. But it's just a light-and-sound show, that's all it does; what's it for?"
"A most important experiment, Gerald. For the past four nights I have been breaking down Superman's psychological defences. I reasoned that his isolated status as the super-powered defender of the world would leave him sexually naive and vulnerable, and I have been proved right; in fact, beyond my wildest dreams. It has always been assumed that his physical powers were vulnerable only to kryptonite but I believe that his amazing body is also subject to domination by one other thing."
"Really? And what is that?" queried the technician, his curiosity aroused.
"His own mind, Gerald! I believe that if he desperately wants to be relieved of his power and invulnerability, which he does thanks to the experiences I have provided for him, and he believes that this machine can do it, then the power of his own belief and desire would neutralise his body's great powers and invulnerability and render him powerless. His own psyche will overcome him and surrender him to me!"
"Mr Luthor! That is amazing! It sort of sounds like hypnosis."
"And what is hypnosis but the willing surrender of one's own will to the influence of another? I have psycho-sexually primed him to desire release from his super powers more than anything else and he believes I can provide that very thing. If I am right, his own desire will undo him! And then the fun can really begin!"
The handsome young technician grinned broadly.
"Oh Mr Luthor, I would dearly love to see that. I have fantasised watching that self-important super shit being used like a bitch for as long as I can remember!"
"And you shall my boy. Stay close and play along. He'll be here soon."
Shortly afterwards the red-cloaked figure alighted on the balcony and entered the hall. He walked across to where Luthor and Gerald appeared to be adjusting a metallic cylindrical device, apparently oblivious to his arrival.
"Well Luthor, is this the Environmental Manipulator?"
"Ah, Superman! Yes indeed it is. We are just preparing it for tonight's test. Are you ready."
"Yes I am. How does it work? Are you sure that it will?"
"Well my chief scientist Gerald here knows all the technicalities but I will take you through the setup as we adjust it to your particular metabolism. Then, if it works as we hope, you will be able to enjoy complete immersion in the sensual pleasures that have been denied to you so far. You have such amazing discoveries ahead of you! Shall we start?" Superman could feel his breath quickening and his genitals stirring.
"Yes. Let's see what it can do."
"Good. Fingers crossed. Let's start with you power of flight. Hover if you will towards the ceiling and we'll begin the process."
The mighty Man of Steel rose effortlessly upward until his head was just below the ceiling and his feet slightly above Luthor's head.
"Good. Now Gerald here will begin to adjust the machine."
Taking his cue, the burly young technician began to press the arrows on the remote. The lights began to blink more rapidly and the hum grew louder.
"Now Superman," said Luthor, "you will begin to feel a strange sensation. It is the pull of gravity. You will be finding it more and more difficult to maintain your position. Your power of flight should be fading. How does it feel?"
"I.. I.. it's strange. I've never felt anything like this before." Already the combined power of Luthor's deceit and Superman's overwhelming need were having their effect.
"Gravity is pulling you down, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes it is." And indeed he could feel the pull of the earth overcoming him, feel himself being pulled down and unable to remain in the air.
"Your power of flight is disappearing thanks to the work of the Environmental Manipulator! You are falling!"
And with a sudden collapse Superman found himself in a heap on the floor.
"I can't fly anymore!" And he gave a nervous laugh as if not sure whether this was a good thing or not. Luthor bent forward and offered his hand to pull the Kryptonian to his feet.
"It seems to be working exactly as planned, my friend. Let's see how it effects your strength. Lift the oak table over there above your head and try to hold it there while Gerald continues his adjustments."
Superman strode excitedly across to the large table that stood against the far wall. He held it high with ease as Gerald again began to play with the remote.
"Now you will begin to feel the weight of the table. It's becoming heavy, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes it is. It feels so strange." His mighty muscles which hitherto would not have even noticed the weight of the massive table had started to ache and strain, and his arms began to shake with the effort.
"The effort is becoming too great isn't it?"
"Yes. It's heavy, very heavy. I.. can't.. hold it.." and the heavy table clattered to the floor sending Superman sprawling.
"Wonderful!" crowed Luthor. "It's working brilliantly." And indeed his plan was working exactly as he had hoped. Superman's desire to be a normal man, to participate in the sado-masochistic play with which he had become fascinated, coupled with the powerful influence of Luthor's suggestions, were undoing his physical might and powers. His own psyche was indeed proving to be the master of his body, and his perceptions were firmly under Luthor's influence. His situation was the most precarious it had ever been yet he gave it no thought, so fixated was he on the sensual urges driving him.
"Now Superman, your strength is gone, and your special vision, speed and hearing will have faded along with the power of flight. It is only your invulnerability that needs to be addressed and we will be ready to play. Come here while Gerald makes the final adjustments."
Superman crossed to the criminal mastermind. He stood before him and Luthor extended his hands and grabbed both nipples firmly between his thumbs and forefingers, twisting as he did so. It had no immediate effect but as the technician continued to play with the remote, Superman began to feel a discomfort in his chest.
"The nipples are very tender and twisting them causes quite an intense pain. You're starting to feel it, aren't you?"
"Yes, yes I am. Owww!" And he pulled back, breaking Luthor's grip. "I can't believe it! That really hurt; I felt pain!"
"Good! It seems we are almost there. Just one last check to be sure. Gerald, reach into Superman's pants and grab onto his testicles tightly." Superman looked quizzically at the young 'scientist' and backed further away. "Now Superman please keep still. Gerald is just going to check the machine's effect by applying some pressure to the most sensitive part of your body. This will tell us with certainty how effective the Environmental Manipulator has been in dispelling your invulnerability."
Superman nervously complied as Gerald enthusiastically thrust his hand into the pants and grabbed the large bull testicles. The strong young man squeezed and pulled with delight, as hard as he could, and with a yell of agony Superman doubled up in pain and crumpled to the floor, with Gerald maintaining his vice-like grip.
"Owww! O my God! Owww!" For the first time in his life Superman experienced the gut-wrenching impact of testicle pain but this only encouraged Gerald's enthusiasm and the strong young man increased the pressure, squeezing and pulling with all of his strength until Luthor, smiling, suggested that that was probably enough to demonstrate that the machine was working quite satisfactorily.
"You can release our Kryptonian friend's balls now Gerald. We know that the manipulator is having the desired effect. Perhaps you can do some readings to determine how far that effect extends." With one final firm twist that caused Superman's eyes to water Gerald let go of the warm meaty gonads.
"I'll take some readings in the adjoining rooms Mr Luthor. Shouldn't be too long." He left the room with a wide grin spreading across his face. There were no readings to take of course and this was just a further layer to the deception that was being played out on their unwitting victim.
"Well Superman? Are you pleased? You must admit, I have delivered admirably on my offer. A whole new world of experience now lies before you, beginning tonight!" Luthor watched as his beguiled foe got unsteadily to his feet, rubbing his crotch.
"Yes Luthor. You have."
"And how are you feeling?"
"Strange. Excited and a little apprehensive I guess. What happens next?"
"We'll take this slowly and easily to start, so you can savour and really enjoy what is to come, perhaps as much as I will enjoy delivering the experience to you. For tonight we are just going to revisit the scenarios we played on the past four nights, but this time with the added sting in the tail that this machine provides. How do you feel about that?"
"It sounds exciting. And we still have two more nights after this. To be honest, I'm getting hard at the thought!"
"Good boy. You know where the kitchen is. Go and get your costume on and I will summon you when we are ready."
Superman made his way quickly to the kitchen where he found the French Maid costume waiting as before. With nervous expectation he hurriedly dressed and sat on a chair to wait, stroking his cock into massive tumescence and fondling his still aching balls. It was some time before the door opened again and one of Luthor's massive wrestler thugs beckoned him back into the hall.
The large dinner table and its many older male guests were waiting just as they had four nights earlier, and the evening proceeded also as before. A smiling Luthor sat at the head of the table.
"Ah, our slutty little coquette is with us again! I am she will be pleased to hear that my chief scientist has completed his readings and has determined that the effect of this machine here encompasses this entire establishment. How much fun we are going to have! Now, begin serving whore!"
Once again Superman adopted the persona of a mincing parody of femininity as he served the guests and once again his body was groped and handled obscenely; his cock, balls and ass became their playthings, and this time whenever he bent to pick up cutlery which had been "accidentally" dropped (which was often) he felt fingers and the occasional tongue probing and entering him.
As the meal drew to a close, Luthor, seated at the head of the table, announced coffee would be served... with a special flavouring. Two of the attendant wrestlers who had been standing by the wall stepped forward and grabbed onto the "maid" roughly and lay her flat on her back on the centre of the table, tearing apart the costume as they did.
"Cream will just be a few seconds," said Luthor as the seated guests stood as one and crowded in around Superman. One of the wrestlers produced a small cream jug and placed it in position to receive the Kryptonian's cum as he began to work the swollen red cock. At the same time the other thug grabbed a single silver candlestick from the far end of the table and removed the still burning candle. He lifted Superman's legs high and wide as his companion continued to pump away furiously on the cock, and thrust the candlestick deep between the cheeks and into the waiting hole.
Superman gave a gasp and then a scream. He had been completely engrossed in his impending orgasm and enjoying the humiliating attention of the ogling guests and was unaware of the actions of the second thug until his legs had been yanked high. The sudden and violent intrusion into his body was totally unexpected and he had no chance to prepare himself. He felt as if he had been ripped apart. He screamed for it to be removed but rather than remove it the thug began to rhythmically work it in and out in time with his partner's stroking. Superman struggled and writhed, yelling and crying for it to stop but the wrestlers continued their assault, holding him down with the help of the guests as they did so. One wizened, wrinkled, grey-haired old guest, grinning broadly and cackling with delight, now took another candle from the table. He held it high over Superman's chest as the wrestlers continued their work on the superhero and began to drip hot wax onto the large pink nipples. Superman wailed and cried as another layer of pain was added. His confusion was enormous: the tearing pain of the candlestick dildo blended with the sting of the wax and the pleasure of the hand-job and the gathering orgasm. Endorphins raced around his body and brain sending him into a euphoria he had never experienced. The cries of pain became wails of ecstasy and with a sudden, climactic wave of sensation he orgasmed hard and full, sending spurt after spurt of hot white cum into the waiting cream jug.
The wanking wrestler continued the milking until no more of Superman's goo would flow, then released the magnificent cock as the other thug withdrew the candlestick and the old man lay the candle on the table. Luthor took the cream jug, now half full of Superman's hot cum and held it up for the grinning guests.
As the laughing dinner guests stood around their host sipping on their super-cum flavoured coffee, the two wrestlers grabbed the still groggy Kryptonian and pulled him from the table. They tore the remaining remnants of costume from him, leaving him totally naked. They quickly secured a dog collar around his neck, dragged him towards the low door on the far side of the hall, and flung him into the low corridor beyond.
Superman had been here before, three nights earlier, knew where it led and what was expected of him. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his strength and began to crawl towards the far end of the corridor where he knew he would be leashed like a puppy again. He remembered the delight of being dominated like a pet, and treated as a plaything by the leather-clad men.
As he emerged from the small low door however he was surprised to be grabbed by the hair and collar by several pairs of hands and forced face down and flat out onto the floor. Other hands forced his legs wide apart and he felt his ass cheeks being roughly parted.
"Let's give this dog a tail!" growled a throaty voice and he felt a bulbous butt plug entering his hole.
"Hehe! That does it!" snarled the voice and the hands pulled Superman up onto all fours. As a dog-chain snapped onto his collar he managed to look behind and saw that a long rubber tail was now protruding from his still aching ass.
"Come on puppy, time for walkies," giggled a high-pitched not-quite-feminine voice and playtime started again. Again he found himself being degradingly felt up and handled by the assembled leather men, made to display and perform tricks, and present himself for close up examination and fondling. This time however his "masters" were far more demanding and if he didn't co-operate and obey quickly enough he felt the harsh end of the dog-chain across his ass. He winced as he heard the whistle of the chain in the air and yelped as it left long red welts across the muscular cheeks. Soon he was scuttling quickly around the room, desperately trying to respond without hesitation, as the repeated lashing turned the sting on his butt to a burning throb.
When the time came for the final phase of play he lay spread-eagled on his back as he had before and presented himself for tickling and handling. But no tickling ensued. Instead the smirking leather men knelt around him and began to place spring-loaded clothes pegs all over his body. Rows of pegs pinched his eyebrows, nose, lips, and tongue making his whole face look and feel like a pin-cushion. Two rows of pegs extended from his nipples down along his magnificent 8-pack and his abdomen, coalescing on his cock and balls which were completely covered with close-packed pegs, each one pinching as tightly as Gerald's hands had earlier in the night. Two rows then extended down the inside of his thighs and calves, ending on his big toes. He breathed in rapid puffs, trying to contain the need to cry out for the removal of the claw-like pegs, each one a tiny torturer on his screaming skin.
The pegs on his eyebrows obscured his vision so he could not see the two men standing at his feet, each holding a cord in his hand. Thick string had been woven through the pegs so that every peg in each row was connected.
"Give him the zipper," called the gruff voice, "one, two, THREE!"
Suddenly there was a ripping sound and a pain that ran through every part of his body. The pegs had all been removed in a single pull of the two cords and every pinch point was like the stab of a hot pin. He felt it especially across his cock and balls and for a horrible instant he thought he had been castrated.
"Noooooooo!" The cry erupted full force and he curled up into a sobbing ball of pain while Luthor, watching through a video monitor, gave a whoop of delight. Strong hands pushed him over onto his back and yanked the butt plug dog-tail from his ass, then released him. Through teary eyes he watched as the laughing leather men left the room and Luthor's wrestler thugs entered and pulled him to his feet. Half dragging him they returned once again to the main hall.
Throbbing with pain in every part of his body, he saw at once that the hall had now been set up as the nursery he had played in two nights earlier. The dozen or so pairs of parents waited with broad grins and the first "mother" and "father" moved forward at once to greet him, and the two wrestlers relinquished him into their grasp. They led him over to the oversized baby bath and lay him down on the rug beside it. "Father" ran his hands up and down the length of the supine body paying special attention to the red-purple pinch marks.
"Poor baby! That looks so sore. Mummy and Daddy will kiss it all better!" And they began to run their lips and tongues all over his body, taking his cock and balls into their mouths and sucking long and hard. Again he experienced a strange blend of pleasure and pain. As his cock began to harden and his ball-sack to tighten the myriad pinch-marks hurt more and more.
"Please, no, stop! It's too much. Enough..."
"What's this? Our baby talks?" The 'mother' gasped in mock surprise. "That can't be right!" And she grabbed reached into the toy box and pulled out a small red ball. It was in fact a ball-gag and before he realised what was happening she had shoved the ball roughly into his mouth and tied it behind his head. Unable now to speak he could only grunt his protestations.
"Hey, and look!" said 'father', "Our little boy has body hair; that can't be right. We have to do something about that!"
With that he drew a razor from his pocket while simultaneously 'mother' and several other of the 'parents' held Superman down and again he found himself spread-eagled on the floor.
The razor moved quickly and expertly over his chest, around his still screaming nipples and down along his thin black treasure trail. Watching from his hidden vantage point, Luthor mouthed a silent "YES!" as he saw the black fuzz, formerly invulnerable to blade or flame, fall easily away from the superhero's body. Chest and abdomen were soon naked and then the blade moved down to the pubic area and scrotum. The thick black curls were soon gone and the beautiful masculine body now took on an almost child-like appearance. The long muscular legs were next and then the armpits.
"Almost done!" said 'father' and then hoisted the great legs high and wide where they were held in place by his accomplices. The razor descended into the hairy cavity between the beautiful ass cheeks and before long the pink puckered hole was totally exposed, no longer hidden behind the small forest of black curls which now lay on the floor. "Now he's ready for his bath!" said 'mother' and the struggling form, now more naked than ever, was lifted bodily into the water.
Superman gave a load gasp from behind the ball-gag as the biting chill of ice-cold water. Multiple hands held him down as his wide eyes pleaded to be released., and his gasps changed to muffled screams.
"Don't struggle baby; gotta get clean!" someone laughed, and then a strong hand took hold of his hair and pushed down. He was now fully submerged and panicking as water rushed into his nostrils but his struggling and thrashing were to no avail as all 'parents' now joined in and held him down.
Just as he thought he was about to drown the hands removed themselves and he sprang up, spluttering and sucking air in through his distended nostrils; and then without warning they pushed down again, and again the fear of drowning filled his consciousness. Again he was released just in time, and then again he was submerged. Again and again the pattern was repeated until his strength to struggle had gone and all he could do was struggle for breath whenever allowed.
On the verge of collapse and unconsciousness, he was lifted out of the tub and lain face down on a bath sheet.. He sucked air in hard through his nostrils and gradually his rapid heart-beat began to calm. Soft hands now dried him all over, caressing gently as voices cooed a lullaby.
"Hush little babe, let the cradle rock; Papa's gonna stroke your balls and cock..."
His body was now being softly stroked and caressed all over with baby oil. Several hands now worked between his mighty legs, some finding balls and cock, others the pink rosebud of his ass. He could feel himself being entered by multiple digits, then something larger but he did not have the strength to turn to see the baby rattle with which he was now being dildoed, or the hands now rhythmically working his now engorged cock. The pace and pressure of the group massage now began to grow and so did the dildo-fucking and the milking. Now the ball-gag was at last removed and he could breath more easily and deeply. His groans grew louder and turned to moans as he felt his arousal grow, and then, almost with a whimper his cum flowed freely onto the bath-sheet beneath him. In the same instant, and without comment, all of the 'parents' then stood and silently left the room. He remained alone, face down on the floor, eyes closed, sighing, on the point of exhaustion.
He was just beginning to recover and to feel he might be able to stand when his hair was unexpectedly grabbed and his head jerked violently up.
"Well, look who we have here!" He was stirring into the eyes of Tony, the assertive jock from the night before. Standing alongside him was his fellow student, Troy, who had initiated the cum-flinging experiment in the Science class. Both boys had mischievous smirks on their faces. "What shall we do with this naughty boy, Troy?"
"I think Miss Taylor has some unfinished business with him, Tone. Let's take him to her." "Oh no," moaned the weary, aching Kryptonian, "Please, no more..." But the two college boys had seized him by the ankles and were dragging him face down towards the door he had walked through 24 hours earlier.
The room was set up as it had been previously as a Science classroom and the class was in session.
"Miss Taylor, look who we found lurking outside," said Troy as they entered. "He was lying down outside without a stitch of clothing on."
"Just what I'd expect from him," snarled the teacher. "We all remember the disgusting mess he made on my desk yesterday. I think I've had quite enough from this repulsive lowlife; it's time he was properly punished. Bring him over here."
Without strength to resist Superman allowed himself to be dragged over to the front of the class where the teacher sat. As the two college boys lifted him by wrists and ankles and stretched him out across her lap the whole class gathered in close to get a good view of the proceedings.
"Now Kal-el, you will count out loud the smacks I inflict on your bottom and you will thank me for each one. Do you understand?"
"O God! If I must!"
"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH! I'LL HAVE NONE OF YOUR RUDENESS!" And with that, she raised her right hand high and brought it down with full force on the naked buttocks.
"Owwwwww! I'm sorry, I'm sorry," yelped the powerless Superman.
"Good! That's much better. Now start counting, and remember to say 'Thank you'."
Crack! Her hand descended again on the quivering flesh already red with welts from the dog-chain.
"Ahhhh! One! Thank you Miss!"
"Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Two! Thank you Miss!" He twisted and squirmed on her lap but the two strong young men held him in place and the spectating class laughed and cheered their approval.
"Ahhhhh! Three! Thank you Miss! Ahhhhh! Four! Thank you Miss. O God! Please stop!" His legs had begun to shake and shudders ran up and down his body.
Crack! Crack! Crack! The spanking continued with surprising force until the beautiful ass was glowing bright red all over and the yelps had turned to loud crying. "Awww... F... Fifty... Th... Thank you M... Miss," he sobbed, his whole body shaking and his face red with tears and utter humiliation.
"Good! Now hopefully you will have learnt your lesson. You will not disrespect me! Unfortunately for you, your behaviour has also insulted your fellow students so they also must have their opportunity to impose punishment upon you.
A sense of total defeat descended on Superman with those words and he collapsed into inconsolable weeping. How could his poor ass cheeks take any more?
"Now students," continued the teacher, "how shall we proceed from here?"
Angela, the girl who had first suggested the spanking the night before, spoke up excitedly,
"Miss, I'm not sure what the boys might want but I think I know an appropriate response from us girls. Can I ask the guys to hold Kal-el up in standing position while I demonstrate?"
"Of course," said the teacher, and Tony and Troy with the help of two other boys lifted the howling man onto his feet and held him there facing Angela. She lifted the tear-stained face and looked directly into his eyes.
"Kal-el, this is from me!" And with that she raised her knee sharply into the already bruised balls. With a loud cry he doubled up in agony, but the strong hands of the college boys held him up. "That should teach you not to disrespect me!"
Taking their cue from Angela, the girls lined up and one by one delivered their ball-busting blows. Most used their knees but several decided on fists and finally the thin girl with braces took a run-up and delivered a football style punt kick to the bruised and swollen gonads.
"Now boys, your turn" said Miss Taylor, "what punishment will you deliver?"
It was the fat boy Roy who took over at this point. Superman was made to kneel on all fours on the floor and one at a time at Roy's instruction, the each delivered a solid kick to the ass. With each kick Superman went sprawling face forward and each time he was lifted back up onto his hands and knees. Gradually he was propelled towards the door until with one final huge boot he went skidding out of the room and back into the hall. He lay face down, his body heaving with such loud howling that he didn't even hear the laughter from the class or the slamming of the door behind him. At length he was aware of a figure standing beside him, and then of his Superman costume being dropped on the floor by his face.
He rolled on his side and looked up at the smiling face of Luthor.
"I've just turned the Environmental manipulator off, Superman. Your powers should be returning now."
Believing the influence of the counterfeit machine annulled, the negative effect of Superman's mind over his body ceased to disempower him. Luthor stared in amazement as the welts and bruised faded before his eyes. The pain which had filled his awareness evaporated from Superman as he felt power flowing back into his mighty frame. Taking a deep breath he stood and began to silently clothe himself.
"Amazing," muttered Luthor. "If I hadn't seen it myself..."
He turned and walked away to the far door. Superman, simultaneously filled with relief and seething rage, watched without comment. As Luthor exited he paused, turned and looked into the Kryptonian eyes.
"Tomorrow night then."
And he closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER 6: The Sixth Night (part 1)
The air around him blazed as he hurtled through the atmosphere, his cheeks also ablaze with shame and anger. The most powerful being in the solar system and yet he had been made to blubber like a baby and whimper like a cowed pup!
At around 3am, astronomers observing the planet Mars were startled to see the asteroid moon Deimos suddenly shatter into millions pieces, showering away in every direction. Apparently an unobserved object had collided with Deimos at enormous speed, destroying it instantly.
His hatred for Luthor was now greater than ever. And yet his degradation at the hands of Luthor's accomplices could not be blamed solely on his arch-enemy; his own arousal and curiosity had led him to agree to the use of the EM machine, and made him vulnerable to their assaults. And without his great powers and invulnerability, he had proven himself less worthy than the weakest child who could hold back tears and bite his tongue rather than plea for mercy. Was he not a truly pathetic excuse for a man without the advantages of his Kryptonian heritage? Enraged with self-disgust he plummeted towards the Earth's surface.
At a hurriedly convened press conference later that morning, the Prime Minister denied accusations of secret weapons-testing in the Australian Outback. Seismologists described the series of huge spikes on their machines as "like an enormous giant pounding his way across the country."
His thoughts raced with the knowledge that there was still a contract to fulfil. He could not welch now or risk forever being branded a coward. And more than that, he had a point to prove: he could take whatever Luthor and his minions could dish out. After all, what was a little naked pain and exposure? Had he not at some level actually enjoyed the experience? And any true hero could surely bear a few hours of physical and psychological abuse in the pursuit of the greater good. He would show Luthor; he would show them all!
Seasoned sailors aboard the ore carrier FRANAKIPAN in the North Pacific swore they had never seen the like of the dozen tornadal waterspouts that flew up on the horizon, then disappeared again within minutes. Some said it was unnatural, that dark forces were at play in the deep ocean, and prayed that Davey Jones would let them pass and not drag them down into his cold dark vaults.
As the sun set over the deep chasm of the abandoned galena mine, a tall, handsome figure in blue, red and yellow slowly descended onto the balcony which hovered over almost half a kilometre above the mine floor. Luthor was already there and waiting, having spent the previous night and day at the lair, preparing for the penultimate night of Superman's contract. Indeed, had the powerful Kryptonian not been so preoccupied with coming to terms with the events of the night before, and intent on working off his rage on the natural environment, he might have been aware of the many helicopters which had ferried guests to the Luthor hideout, invited to witness and participate in the next evening's "play".
"Nicely on time I see." A broad grin spread across the face of the older, bald-headed criminal mastermind. "Eager for more?"
"Two more nights, Luthor. I'm true to my word, and I'll see that you honour yours."
"Yes, yes, of course, no question of that. Shall we launch straight into tonight's program?"
Superman looked puzzled.
"Oh. No magazine tonight before we start? Well, whatever.." He tried to look nonchalant and hoped he had not revealed his curiosity to see images of the previous night's play, when he had been weak, vulnerable, and totally at the mercy of the many men and women who had used him so disgracefully for their own amusement.
"Oh, I have something much better than a magazine for you tonight, Superman. Last night's glorious encounter was worthy of much more than simple magazine coverage. Come in and I'll show you." And he turned and walked into the great entry hall, motioning Superman to follow.
They walked through the hall and along a long corridor, turning at length to descend a few steps down a wide marble staircase to a plush foyer. Two of Luthor's wrestler henchmen stood by double doors opposite and opened them wide as Luthor and Superman approached.
They entered a small but ornate art deco cinema, seating about 80 elegantly attired people who smiled and nodded as they entered and gave polite applause. The centre row was empty and Luthor led his slightly confused companion to a seat half way along. As soon as they sat down the cinema darkened and the feature began to roll.
"I think you'll find this much more interesting than a dirty magazine," whispered Luthor as the opening title appeared on the screen, the word PLAYTHING snaking out of the wide ass of a naked man kneeling side on to the camera in "doggy" position.
Superman gasped as he recognised himself and realised at once that his fifth night of debauched submission had been caught in high definition and rapidly edited into a feature length pornographic movie. For a moment he felt a surge of panic. He breathed deep and slow and maintained his composure, all the while his eyes locked unblinking on the images before him.
There were soft inhalations from the audience as the film played out, whispered oohs and ahhs, spontaneous giggles and titters and even occasional applause. There was Superman, bereft of his great powers, the sordid plaything of leering, laughing criminals. There was the French maid being touched up, fingered, forcefully dildoed with a candlestick, covered in hot wax, and milked into a cream-jug. Now the puppy, wagging his dogtail buttplug on command, scampering around on all fours, yelping at the sting of the leash on his bare ass, crying out at the pinch of the clothes pegs and the savage burn of "the zipper". Next was the baby being shorn of all body hair, then gasping for air as he endured repeated dunking in the over-sized baby bath, violated with a baby's rattle before once again being milked of his ball juice.
Then, finally, the coup de grace, the naughty schoolboy. Superman watched in shame as he heard himself sobbing and bellowing for release. He saw himself struggling without effect against the strength of his college boy captors, quivering in pain and fear as the teacher's hand lay stroke after stroke of full-force spanking on his bright crimson butt cheeks, crying in agony as the college girls kneed and kicked him in his large, swollen balls, then blubbering uncontrollably as each of the boys in turn sent him sprawling headfirst along the floor with powerful kicks to the glowing, aching backside.
As the final images of him slowly dressing and walking to the balcony faded, and the logo LL Films appeared, the cinema filled with applause. The houselights brightened and the whole audience stood and clapped wildly: a standing ovation!
"It seems you have won some fans, Superman," smiled Luthor. "Perhaps you're in the wrong profession? You're obviously a born porn star!"
Superman dropped his eyes, not wanting to acknowledge the enthusiasm of his audience, but with the lights now full on he could not disguise the wet patch at the front of his crotch which grown and spread with his involuntary arousal at the film. Luthor stood in close and let his fingers play across the dampness.
"A little sticky down there, I see. I think you enjoyed the film more than you're prepared to admit." And he squeezed the hard, damp bulge.
Superman pulled away from the hand and deftly covered his front with his cloak.
"Do you expect to distribute that?" he asked angrily. "Do you think I would let that happen?"
"Now, now, don't worry my Kryptonian friend. This was a once-only event. You don't have to be concerned about PLAYTHING ever finding its way onto the internet." Still smiling his superior, mocking grin Luthor turned towards the audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for joining us for this special event screening. I am sure that you will agree with me that Kal-el is a born superstar of the erotic screen, one who doesn't hold back and certainly gives his all."
There was loud agreement, and further applause.
"Please make your way now to the refreshments; my men will show you the way, and out star and I will join you shortly."
Two of Luthor's henchmen opened a door on the left of the screen and the crowd began to leave. Soon only Luthor, Superman and the two wrestlers were left in the cinema. Luthor clicked his fingers and the screen began to rise into the ceiling, revealing a small stage beyond. Centre stage stood a large metal cylinder which Superman immediately recognised.
So, it would be the EM experience again.
"As you can see," said Luthor as he led the Man of Steel towards the device, "the Environmental Manipulator is currently inactive. You know what it does, the effect it has on you..."
"Yes, it negates my superpowers and invulnerability. It turns me into a normal man."
"Precisely. Well, here's the remote. Tonight you can have the privilege of turning it on and neutering yourself." Luthor had observed the night before how potent Superman's own psyche had been in disempowering him, once he had committed to the experience of masochistic submission and the belief in the EM machine. Cleverly, he reasoned that if Superman himself was the one who turned on the machine he would be even more fully under the power of the suggestion of its effect.
Superman looked down at the remote Luthor had placed in his hands. He knew what would happen once he switched it on. Fear rose in him but what could he do? Admit his cowardice? Go back on his contract?
Silently he threw the twin switches and the green and red lights began to flash around the cylinder. He slowly turned the adjustment knobs up to the indicated level and the machine began to hum.
"What do you feel, Superman?"
"Strange. Nauseous. I feel weak, drained of power."
"Good, good." The criminal mastermind slipped the control from the hands of his superhero prey. "I'm pleased you are so committed to our little sessions. Tonight is going to be very special."
He nodded at the two burly wrestlers. Immediately they took hold of Superman and began to forcefully undress him. He did not resist but gritted his teeth against the indignity and rough treatment. Before long he stood naked before his nemesis who held his famous costume in his hands.
Casting aside all but the cloak, Luthor fixed the red cloth to his own shoulders so that it draped behind him like a symbol of royalty.
"Looks much better on me I think." And he leered at the magnificent naked form before him with its massive semi-erect organ still wet with pre-cum. "Hold him down boys."
Superman was man-handled to the floor, spreadeagled on his back and held firmly in place by Luthor's two powerful servants. From a box at the side Luthor produced a can of shaving foam and a cut-throat razor.
"Time for some adjustments." He laughed, and then began to spray foam all over the prone, powerless Kryptonian. Superman was soon covered head to foot in foam which stang and choked him as it got into his eyes, nose and mouth. With quick purposeful sweeps Luthor set about removing every hair from his victim's body, this time including the crown of sleek black locks so admired by millions all around the planet.
"Flip him over." Having denuded the entire anterior side, Luthor now turned his attentions to Superman's back, paying special attention to get well inside the sculpted, muscled ass cheeks so that once again the pink nether eye was revealed, gaping and beckoning. Soon every piece of hair, from head to feet, ass to eyebrows, had been removed. As the henchmen stood Superman up and wiped off the remaining foam, the effect was strange, like a muscular, over-sized kewpie doll. Superman continued to say nothing, gritting his teeth and thinking how glad he was there were no mirrors around to add the sight of himself to his shame and embarrassment.
"I've had these specially made for you," said Luthor as he pulled several leather and metal objects from the box. The first was a thick collar with several steel rings attached, which was quickly fastened around his neck. Next, similar manacles were placed around his wrists and ankles, and the rings on the wrists clipped to those on the collar so that has hands were held close by the side of his neck. Even if could get hold of the EM remote control now, he could not operate it. He was completely at the mercy of his enemy, alone, naked, powerless and surrounded by thugs and the elite of the underworld. How could he have so endangered himself? Once again he had allowed his vanity and curiosity to betray him!
"Now this is almost certainly going to hurt. Hold him still boys." Luthor produced a pincer-like handtool from the box. He pinched Superman's left nipple tightly and pulled it so that the skin stretched out from the pec, then applied the tool directly behind the nipple. Superman yelled out in pain and tried to break the grip of his captors but they held him firmly in place. He looked down at his chest and saw a steel ring inserted into his flesh at the nipple. A small trail of blood ran down towards his abs and his eyes widened. He had never bled before!
Next Luthor pulled on the right nipple and Superman struggled even more but again he had no hope of breaking the hold of the powerful thugs. With another burst of pain he saw a second nipple ring embedded into his flesh.
"Stop it!" he shouted angrily. "This is going too far!" But before he could say another word one of the henchmen grabbed him in a fierce bear-hug and the other shoved a ball-gag into his mouth and secured it tightly at the back of his head. Luthor pressed his face close to Superman's and smiled in mockery,
"That's enough out of you, you stupid fuck! Now, open his legs wide."
The thugs obeyed and Superman was once again spread-eagled and pinned to the floor. Luthor bent over him and grabbed the hairless ballsack in his left hand, kneading it and stretching it. Superman kicked and fought, terrified at the prospect of genital mutilation. With two quick clicks Luthor placed two rings into the scrotum, then stood up, admiring his handiwork.
"One to go," he said, then took hold of the flaccid but still impressive cock. He gabbed the frenulum and pulled it out hard, then placed the ring tool on the delicate skin, midway between the circumcision scar and the generous glans. Superman jerked involuntarily as the ring was inserted into the underside of his cock and looked down at Luthor's "adjustments", five solid steel rings now embedded into his flesh. What was to happen next
"Nearly done," said Luthor, pulling a set of chains from the box. Once more Superman was pulled roughly to his feet. With his hands held tight to his neck by the manacles and collar, he could offer no resistance. The rings on his scrotum were quickly chained to those on his nipples, but the chains were short and he had to stand bent over so as not to pull on the rings. Similarly, the scrotum rings were connected to the manacles at his ankles, and again the chains were short, forcing him to stand bow-legged. It was in truth a comical effect, exactly what Luthor had hoped for. Shaved, bent over, bow-legged, ball-gagged and his hands immobilised. One more short chain was added, connecting the ankles, then Luthor took out a leash and clipped it to the ring in the cock.
"Now i think we're ready to join our guests," he laughed and began to lead the naked, hairless and chained superhero by the leash. Waddling along in a bow-legged bent over shuffle, the hapless Kryptonian resembled nothing so much as a bald, white chimpanzee.
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.
"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!"
"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.
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."
"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.