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Superman: Glory Night, chapter 5: SUCKER

This is part 5 of an adult content, NSFW erotic Superman story, inspired by a frankly stunning image of the Man of Steel sitting next to a gloryhole created by @Buffy2ville on Deviantart, who kindly gave permission for this - thank you. Thanks also to @lexluthorspalaceofpain for a very kind illustration upgrade! No offence or copyright infringement is intended; it is purely for adult enjoyment, not for profit. And so I hope you enjoy...

Now let’s return to downtown Metropolis. Lance Lewis has locked Clark inside the filthy toilet to prepare for his night of fellatio. Left alone and more aroused than ever before by his predicament, Clark has given in to temptation and stripped off his street clothes. Now, as Superman, dressed in his world famous spandex uniform, he sits in anticipation on a filthy toilet seat, relishing the new feelings he’s allowed himself to embrace at last...

Superman sat waiting, feeling his briefs and tights soaking up more liquid from the wet and slimy toilet seat with every passing second. Slowly, his hand strayed down to his crotch. He gave in to his simmering arousal, and moved his fingers lightly up and down his cock, gripping the shaft through the wet spandex of his briefs and tights. It felt so very good, and yet he knew he had to take care not to let these sensations run away with him. At least… not yet.

“I have the whole night still to get through,” he said softly to himself. “And… and I have work to do.”

As if to reinforce this point, as that moment a sound came from his left, and Superman turned his attention to the glory hole.

“Oh boy… my first c-client.”

He gulped. Slowly but steadily, a thick, uncut penis was emerging from the glory hole. It was very, very stiff, and the tip was as wet as Superman’s own, which now gave up a little more precum at this sight; he felt it moistening the tips of his fingers as he gripped the shaft.

He found himself wondering what to do first. Ought he to say something? Would that be polite. He cleared his throat.

“Uh… good evening, sir. I hope you’re feeling good. I… I sure am. Are you ready for… f-for some ah… f-fun?”

He stared at the penis, wondering about its owner.

A gruff voice came from behind the hole.

“I’m ready for you to suck my dick, cocksucker.”

Superman’s cheeks blazed as red as his briefs at this abrupt response. Yet what did he expect? That was what he was here for, after all.

“Oh. Okay. G-good. Well. Let’s… let’s g-get to work then.”

Now the moment was here, he found himself a little unsure how best to proceed. He let go of his own cock and began to lean forward, bringing his mouth closer to the dripping erection that was awaiting him.

“Hurry up, cocksucker! Get my dick in your mouth, dumbass.”

Superman went to say something, but then realised a reply to this comment was not needed.

“Gosh,” he thought, “this really is new territory for me. Well… here goes.”

His eyes strayed to the mirror, and he watched his reflection as he hesitantly moved his mouth to the tip of the man’s cock. Seeing himself do this increased his arousal, making him bold.

‘It’s cock o’clock,” he whispered softly to himself. “It’s cock o’clock for Superman.”

More precum emerged from the tip of the man’s dick. Instinct kicked in, and suddenly Superman found himself lapping at this, licking and swiping at the liquid with his tongue. He enjoyed the strange and salty taste, and as he watched himself in the mirror he gave a low moan of joy.

‘It’s not a fucking ice lolly. Get it in your mouth!” snarled the voice behind the wall.

“Oh,” Superman mumbled, feeling foolish. “Sorry, sir.”

After a split-second hesitation, he moved his head forward and placed his mouth fully around the man’s dick. Catching sight of his reflection once more spurred him on, and Superman began to move his mouth backward and forward, in an attempt to pleasure his first client.

“Look at me…” he thought, watching himself eagerly sucking away. “I’m… I’m sucking a dick! Me, Superman! Oh boy… I bet I’m good at it too. I bet he likes it! I’ll give him a Super-blowjob!”

“What the fuck is this?” exclaimed the owner of the cock. “It’s like he’s coming at it upside down.”

There was a sudden rap at the toilet door; Superman let go of the dick he was sucking and jumped back in alarm, with a yelp of fear. Using his x-ray vision he could see Lance Lewis was on the other side of the door and he looked angry.

“Clark! What the hell’s going on in there? The client’s not happy!”

Superman gazed wildly between the erect penis he’d been sucking and the door. Lewis couldn’t come in. If he did, then there would barely be time to change, even at Super-speed. He had to appease him, whatever it took.

“I’m sorry, Mr Lewis, sir. I’m… I’m sucking his dick, just like you told me. I thought I was doing a good job. I… I’m trying sir. I’m sat here sucking cock at the g-glory hole, doing everything you asked, sir, honest!”

Even as he spoke, Superman saw himself in the mirror once more and heard the wheedling, pleading tones in his usually confident voice.

“Did you just say you were ‘sat sucking cock’?” Lance Lewis looked contemptuous as he spoke.

‘Uh… yes, sir…” replied Superman, puzzled. “I’m sat on the toilet like you told me. And I was trying my hardest.”

“Jeez, you’re an idiot,” said Lewis. “You’re supposed to be kneeling, Clark. You kneel to suck cock, don’t you understand anything?”

Superman’s eyes grew wide. He stared at the filthy ground, the puddles of urine and filth in which his half-removed red boots were standing.

“Kneel? B-but Mr Lewis, the floor…”

‘But Mr Lewis, the floor,” imitated Lance Lewis, shaking his head. “I don’t care about the goddamn floor; you need to kneel to suck cock. And you came here to be a cocksucker tonight, didn’t you? I said, didn’t you?”

Superman could feel himself beginning to panic.

“Yes, sir,’ he said, trying to placate Lewis. “That’s quite correct, I came here tonight… to be a… oh… to be a c-cocksucker. I’m here to be a c-cocksucker, sir.”

The words made his own penis throb harder and harder.

‘Well then, cocksucker Kent, get down on your knees,” shouted Lewis angrily. “Or do I have to come in there and make you?”

“No!” shouted Superman in alarm. If Lewis opened that doo, the consequences could potentially ruin him. “P-please don’t come in, sir. I’m getting down on the floor now. Of course I don’t mind kneeling, sir. I don’t mind all the… the filth. I’m doing it right now.”

Where he had peeled down the backs of his red boots they were now flapping, getting in the way. Superman decided then and there to take them off.

“Whatever happens now, my tights are going to be soaked with piss. Let’s just get them off and do this properly; I have to keep these men happy.”

Hastily, he kicked off his boots and shoved them aside. He watched his blue tights-clad feet darkening as the fabric soaked up the puddle of human waste. The sight both disgusted and aroused him.

‘My uniform…” he breathed. “Oh boy. Too late to turn back now."

And then, Superman got down on his knees in that same puddle, feeling the cold wet muck engulfing him.

“Ooh,” he cried. “I’m on my knees, Mr Lewis. I’m… I’m on my knees and ready to suck dick, sir.”

And indeed, his head was now at a much better angle for the task; he could now see the rookie mistake he had made, sat on the toilet in his tights and briefs, delicately sucking like a genteel young lady with an ice cream. Now he was squarely facing the erect cock of his client - it was just a couple of centimetres from his lips.

This seemed to content Lance Lewis. “Okay. Make sure you stay that way, right?”

“Yes, sir,” said Superman, staring down the business end of a cock. “I’ll stay on my knees, sir. It’s running my clothes, but I’ll stay on my knees, just like you said. Ooh.”

This humiliating statement furthered his arousal. He risked a quick glance in the mirror. There he was: Superman, with his boots removed, kneeling in a filthy puddle in his tights, preparing to suck cock once more.

“I… I like being on my knees, sir,” he called out. “It f-feels good.”

“Geez,” came the gruff voice of his client. “What kind of cocksucker are you?”

Superman returned his attention to the dick he was about to suck once more.

“Welll…” he hesitated and then decided to risk it.

“Hopefully… hopefully I’m a Supercocksucker, sir. If you’ll let me try, I’ll try to be a S-supercocksucker for you. W-would you like that?”

“Ha!” said the voice. “I reckon you’re more like a Superdickhead, pal.”

Superman could hardly believe his ears! There he was, trying to appease these men, debasing himself as never before, and this was the ungrateful response. He found himself activating his x-ray vision to see just whose cock it was he was sucking.

The man was tall and bearded, a rough looking biker sort, who looked none too clean.

“To think of it… how dare he call me ‘Superdickhead’! I’m the most powerful man on the planet, if not the galaxy! I could smash through this wall with one finger, and then imagine his face - how scared he’d be!”

But then… was not that power, that responsibility exactly what he had come here to escape?

Superman gazed down at his briefs and tights, awash with his own precum and the filthy slimy puddle in which he knelt. He took a deep breath.

“Gee… you… you’re quite right, sir. That’s exactly wh-what I am. A… a S-Superdickhead. That’s me. Ooh.”

His mind might have demurred, but his cock was in no doubt: it pulsed with excitement as he spoke these disgraceful words. This made up his mind.

“I’m a Superdickhead,” he said loudly and clearly, risking a stroke of his own cock. “Hnngg. Uh. Yes, Sir. That’s me. I’m a Superdickhead all right. So let’s get your dick in my Superdickhead mouth.”

“Yeah…” the man chuckled. “That’s good, Superdickhead.”

Superman groaned and touched himself once more. If this man only knew he was speaking to the Man of Steel himself! His client now spoke again.

“You like my big pink dick, don’t you, Superdickhead?”

He suddenly found himself transported back to a moment that seemed another lifetime ago: flirting with Lois the night he dropped by her apartment. He’d been turned on then, too. Lois had asked him what colour underwear she was wearing. Enjoying this game, he had played along, using his x-ray vision to get the answer: pink.

Even then, a part of him was fulfilled by knowing he was using his great powers for such a frivolous purpose. It was obvious how awestruck Lois was by him, his appearance and his mighty powers. He had stared at those pink lace panties, and imagined her astonishment if he were to ask her to let him try them on. Pulling them over his tights, or putting them on his head, making himself look ridiculous in front of her. Flying through the night like an idiot. He’d even imagined letting her take a picture, to display his disgrace to the world on the front page of the Daily Planet. “Hero Likes Wearing Pink Panties!” “The Man of Silk and Steel!”

“I like pink very much, Lois,” he’d told her, not letting on for a second about the full depraved context in which he was thinking about this. And that was that: once again Superman had buried his true nature, done the right thing, smothering his frustrated desire to be something less than he was.

But now… now he was kneeling in a filthy toilet. And he was going to give full rein to every urge he had ever squashed down and concealed in the name of his noble destiny.

He stared at the man’s penis before him, twitching away. It was time.

“Yes, sir. I like pink very much, sir. And I sure do like your big pink dick, sir. Superdickhead likes pink, and I’m going to do my very best with your big pink dick… in my mouth… right… now!”

With that, he thrust his mouth forward and set to work in earnest.

Superman’s night of cocksucking had begun.

Will Superman discover that the first cock is the deepest? Will he be able to give his clients satisfaction, whilst being strong enough not to give in and frantically tug himself off in his tights? Just how filthy is that toilet? And what further indignities does Lance Lewis have in store for the cock-hungry Kryptonian?

Find out in the next instalment of Superman: Glory Night!

As ever, if you’ve enjoyed this then please hit “like” and leave a comment. In the meantime, Happy #SupersubmissiveSunday!

Superman: Glory Night, chapter 4 - KINKSTER OF STEEL

This is part 4 of an adult content, NSFW erotic Superman story, inspired by a frankly stunning image of the Man of Steel sitting next to a gloryhole created by @Buffy2ville on Deviantart, who kindly gave permission for this - thank you. No offence or copyright infringement is intended; it is purely for enjoyment, not for profit. And so I hope you enjoy...

Now let’s return to the hapless Clark Kent aka Superman. We left him sat fully clothed on a filthy toilet, after Lance Lewis had locked him in, leaving the aroused and apprehensive journalist uncertain and excited for what was to come…

Now that the door was closed, Clark could see that there was a full-length mirror on the other side of it, mottled with age and reflecting back his image. He shuddered with arousal and drank in the sight of himself, illuminated from above by one yellow lightbulb.

“Oh boy. Ohhhh b-boy” he whispered to himself. “Look at me. Look at what I’m doing. I’m… sat in my finest clothes, my best suit. Sat on a filthy wet toilet, waiting to debase myself and fellate a bunch of men. Me… Clark Kent. Oh!”

His penis throbbed with unspent arousal as he spoke these words. His whole body shook with years of pent-up longing, a yearning to be something less than the all-powerful Man of Steel for once. He lightly touched himself and moaned a little in anticipation.

Clark could feel the liquid on the toilet seat had soaked right through his trousers, all the way through to his tights and briefs below. His uniform - his sacred Kryptonian uniform, a symbol of greatness known even beyond the bounds of the earth, was absorbing the waste of normal human men. The thought made him giddy with excitement. And that was when it occurred to him:

“You know… this isn’t really my best suit, is it? My best suit… is my Superman suit. My uniform, which I have on underneath my Clark Kent clothes.”

He stared at his reflection.

“They have no idea. They have no idea that it’s not just Clark Kent who’s going to be sucking their dicks this evening - it’s Superman! Superman is going to suck cock for the first time in a public lavatory, and it’s a secret. My secret. Just mine.”

His x-ray vision activated spontaneously, penetrating the layers of his coal-black suit.

“Imagine… oh… just imagine if I was sucking their dicks dressed in my uniform.”

The thought of this turned him on so much that he whipped his hand away from his cock for fear that he might cum in his clothes right there!

“Oh! Oh boy. Oh boy. Oh god. Could I? Could I do that? They have locked me in here after all. No one would see.”

He shook his head sadly, and let his x-ray vision fade.

“It’s too much of a risk. Way too much of a risk. If anyone ever found out.”

But then, how could they find out? He still had his abilities. If anyone were to unlock the door he would hear them coming from way off, and he could change back at super-speed.

“No,” he said, “it’s still too risky.”

His hand strayed to his neck tie as he continued to gaze at his reflection.

“Although. How about… I could just take off my tie. And maybe my jacket.”

He spied an ancient and rusty hook, hanging to the left of the mirror.

“Yes. What if I take them off and hang them there?”

Before he had even given himself permission to do this, he found himself loosening his tie, standing up and pulling off his jacket.

Haltingly, almost as though his hands were resisting, he slipped the necktie over his head and off. This done, he coughed nervously and then shrugged off his suit-jacket. With shaking hands, he hung them both on the rusty hook and seated himself once more.

“And then…then I can just…”

Without thinking, from force of habit, he swiftly performed a shirt rip! The buttons of his crisp white shirt went flying to the floor, into the puddles of piss that were everywhere.

“Dang it! Didn’t mean to rip it. But now I have…”

His cock strained ecstatically at the sight before him: now, he would be able to see his S-shield as he worked away sucking dick. The red, yellow and blue insignia blazed out proudly beneath his white shirt.

“Oh boy. Okay. That… that feels really nice. Being able to see my uniform like that. In fact…”

He looked down at his shoes.

“You know, these cost a lot of money. Instead of having them soaking in stale urine all evening, I could… um…”

He paused, but he already knew what he was thinking.

“I could… well, I could just take off my shoes and put them by the basin. But then, I wouldn’t want my socks to get wet with all this. And my uniform is indestructible, after all. What if I just take off my shoes and hang up my socks on the hook. Th-then…”

He paused again, and then whispered to himself:

“Well… then I’d be able to see my red boots. I… I’d like that! What does it matter if they’re standing in piss. I mean, urine?”

Part of him tried to hold back, but then, before he knew it, he found himself unlacing his smart black leather shoes. He took them off and went to place them by the basin, which was filled with murky-looking water, but as he stood up he realised his mistake.

“Oh! Huh… damn it! What a… what a d-dumbass I am! I forgot to take my socks off before standing up.”

His pristine black socks were now soaking up the filthy contents of the toilet.

“Oh well. Better get them off now. Perhaps… perhaps I’ll put them in the basin to soak.”

Pulling off each of his now drenched socks, with a momen’s slight hesitation he dropped them into the foul-looking contents of the basin.

“Hmm. Not sure if that’s better or worse than the floor, but it doesn’t matter now. There go my socks.”

He settled himself back down upon the toilet and gazed at his reflection with satisfaction.

“Look at me,” he whispered. “My S-shield and tunic are showing, and so are my red boots.”

He looked down at the latter, now stood amid the sloppy urine all about.

“Gee. Not sure my boots have ever stood in a puddle of human piss before!”

He chuckled softly, at this, but as he did so he found himself wriggling in discomfort. Ripping his shirt open had displaced his cape, which normally stayed put, tucked into the back of his trousers.

“Well,” he said slowly, “that’s going to be awfully uncomfortable to sit on all night long. What… what difference would it make if I…”

He stood up once more, reached behind himself, and yanked his cape out from the seat of his pants. It fell down behind him, making him both instantly more comfortable and infinitely more turned on.

“Oh god. Oh boy.” he gasped. The sight of his red and blue uniform was driving him wild with lust. And from the mirror he could now see that the bottom of his cape was touching the floor of the toilet; he could see the hem darkening as its soaked up the human piss below!

“Oh! G-gosh. Well. It’s indestructible after all. What does it matter? G-gosh, though… my cape… my own cape, soiled with human urine!”

He stared once more at his S-shield, savouring the sight of it shining brightly out below his crisp white shirt. The red and yellow, he could clearly see. But the blue of his tunic, not so much.

“What good is it… leaving my shirt on but ripped open? What purpose does that serve, really?”

He could find no answer, and a moment later he took his shirt off fully and hung it on the ancient hook. Then, after a brief hesitation, he removed his glasses and tucked them inside his jacket pocket.

Superman - as he plainly could be seen to be now - seated himself once more on the filthy toilet. He was trembling quite alarmingly, as though he had a fever, he was so turned on.

“Oh god. Oh boy. Oh, great Rao. I’m sorry… I’m sorry, but I think this looks amazing. It feels wonderful. Me… Superman. The Man of Steel. The strongest being on the planet. Sat on a filthy lavatory. My feet… my boots… in a puddle of human piss. With only my coal black pants left to protect my uniform. Oh boy… look at me. Let me enjoy this moment.”

Superman felt a rush of erotic sensation like nothing that had ever touched him in all his years. His predicament was arousing him more than anything had ever done before. He thought back to his words of that morning:

“Why shouldn’t I have some fun for once?”

In that moment, he felt a desire to see his own bulging briefs and tights that was so wild and so strong, there was not the remotest hope of fighting it.

“To hell with it,” he said, standing up. “I’m going to do as I want. It’s my life. I’m the last son of Krypton. I’m Superman. I’m the Man of Steel. And my pants are coming down.”

He began to fumble clumsily with the clasp of his trousers, tugging fiercely at them.

“Everything all right in there, Clark?”

He froze with horror, bending over in the act of removing his trousers. Ridiculously, he pulled his cape around him to try and conceal his crotch, as if Lewis were in the room there with him, and then cursed his stupidity - what could this have achieved? He swallowed, and called out in Clark’s mild-mannered tones:

“Yes… yes, sir, Mr Lewis, sir. I’m f-fine. Th-thank you.”

Superman stood, willing the man to go away and leave him be. He could see Lewis just outside with his x-ray vision. Surely he wasn’t going to unlock the door and check on him? If he had to get dressed at Super-speed again now, he didn’t know what he’d do…

“Glad to hear it.” Lewis walked away once more, to his great relief. “Five minutes to go.”

“Oh… thank you, sir,” called out Superman. “I’ll be ready. C-c-can’t wait!”

As the footsteps moved away, he deactivated his x-ray vision, and a second later he ripped his trousers down his legs.

“Pants down for me,” he gasped, yanking them off his feet, trying as much as possible to avoid them soaking up the pools of piss on the floor. “Pants down for Clark Kent… and pants off for Superman… there!”

Triumphantly, he finally pulled off his trousers and held them up, before hanging them on the hook. It shook slightly, but Superman barely registered this, so desperate was he to sit back down and look at his reflection. Gently, he lowered his spandex-clad ass on to the filthy toilet seat. As the seam of his red briefs came into contact with the wet surface, he felt them and his blue tights begin to absorb the moisture.

“Ooh,” he breathed as he felt the liquid fully begin to seep up into his briefs and tights. “L-looks like I’ve wet my tights…”

He chuckled at this, and stared at the patch of white foaming precum where his ramrod stiff cock was bulging through his uniform. The front of his briefs was now well and truly awash, stained with the evidence of his excitement.

“Yes… I’ve certainly well and truly wet my tights.”

He looked his reflection in the eye defiantly. “I, Superman, have wet my tights and briefs.”

Now in the grip of a lust-crazed frenzy, he began to paw at his boots.

“Better to take these off. That way my tights can soak up some filth from the floor as well.”

He began to peel the backs of his boots down his calves, ready to remove them and sully the feet of his tights. But he was only halfway through when a voice cried out:

“You ready in there? Are you ready for showtime, for cock o’clock?”

Superman sat up and looked at himself, then over at the gloryhole.

“Just a minute, sir,” he called out, his voice shaking slightly. He returned his gaze to his reflection, drinking in the sight of his disgrace. His boots were half off, the back of his calves clad in his blue tights, exposed.

Suddenly the rusty old hook on the back of the door gave way, and to his horror, Superman watched his fine Clark Kent clothes come crashing to the ground. His eyes wide, he watched that expensive suit, shirt, and tie as the whole lot landed with a faint splash in a particularly deep puddle of piss.

“Oh!” he gasped. “Oh god! What have I done?”

He saw himself in the mirror: the son of Jor-El, Kal-El of Krypton, the Man of Steel… Superman… sat on a disgusting toilet, cape and buttocks soaked with piss, his stained briefs bulging with undisguised arousal and his boots half peeled off. And the remains of Clark Kent’s best suit before him, lying in a puddle of human waste. The sheer depravity of what he was doing fully hit home at last.

A sound came from behind the gloryhole. Someone was preparing themself for him

“Clark! I said, are you ready?”

Superman swallowed. “Yes, sir, Mr Lewis, sir. I am ready.”

With one finger he traced the symbol of his s-shield, and then with the other hand he took hold of his cock, gripping it through his tights and briefs.

“Uhhhhh. I’m ready for my sh-showtime, sir.” He gasped and groaned in arousal.

“I’m Superman,” he whispered, before continuing in a much louder voice, “and I’m ready to suck some dicks.”

What will Superman make of his night of cock? Will his first foray into fellatio be an instant triumph for him and his clients, or will the Man of Steel need a few hot tips? And will he make it to sunrise without blowing a load in his already-sullied tights and briefs?

Find out soon in Superman: Glory Night, chapter 5 - SUCKER

If you enjoyed, then please hit Like and consider leaving a comment, and I hope you found it as Superman’s tights and briefs are right now, as he sits awaiting the glory! 😈

Superman: Glory Night, chapter 3 - HYPOCRITE

This is part 3 of a mature content erotic Superman story, inspired by a frankly stunning image of the Man of Steel sitting next to a gloryhole created by @Buffy2ville on Deviantart, who kindly gave permission for this - thank you. No offence or copyright infringement is intended; it is purely for enjoyment, not for profit. And so I hope you enjoy... now let’s find out what happens when Clark keeps his appointment with the devious pornographer Lance Lewis, at a public toilet in downtown Metropolis…

Less than a minute after leaving his apartment, Clark touched down lightly in a grubby back alley near the public toilet that was his destination. He walked the rest of the way, breathing heavily. He was bristling with excitement and apprehension.

A figure stepped from the shadows, a good-looking man of about thirty, with shoulder length brown hair.

“Well, well,” grinned Lance Lewis. “Right on time. An excellent habit for a whore, right, Clark?”

Despite everything, he scowled. “I’m not a whore, Lewis.”

Lance’s expression darkened. “But tonight you’re going to do what a whore does, isn’t that right? And what’s with calling me ‘Lewis’? Perhaps you want me to cancel this arrangement?”

“No!” Clark put out his hands in a placatory gesture. “Please, sir, no! I’m… I’m very sorry, Mr Lewis, sir. I didn’t mean to say that. I… I’m not a whore, but you’re quite right - tonight I… I’m going to behave just like a whore. And… and that’s just f-fine. I’ll d-do what a whore does. Thank you, sir. Forgive me, please.”

“Forgive you?”

“Yes… yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

Lewis stared at him. “Well, look like you mean it, Clark. Get on your knees.”

"Wh-what?” Clark could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“You heard me, Kent. If you want me to forgive you, get down on your knees.”

Clark tried to think of something he could say or do, but Lewis was staring at him with a cold determination, and it was clear the man was not going to let him off the hook.

“Okay.”

Clark took a breath, and then slowly assumed a kneeling position at Lewis’s feet. Looking up, he said:

“I’m… I’m very sorry, Mr Lewis, sir. P-please forgive me. Please."

This seemed to satisfy Lance Lewis. “Okay. That’s better, Clark. But mind you keep a civil tongue in your head this evening.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” babbled Clark. “I’ll be on my b-best behaviour for you, sir.”

Already, his body was aglow with fiery arousal, both at the knowledge of what he was walking into and also, to his surprise, at the deferential manner which seemed to come so naturally to him.

‘This is my associate,” said Lewis, “my business partner, Carmine.”

A handsome, dark eyed young man with neat dark hair stepped from the shadows. Clark swallowed rapidly.

“Oh… I… I d-didn’t know anyone else was going to be here,” he said. “Uh…”

“Lots of people are going to be here,” said Lewis. “Lots of men. Right, Clark?”

Clark nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand sir. Lots of men are going be here. Lots of men are gong be… uh… c-coming here tonight.”

“Indeed. I couldn’t have put it better myself.” Lewis stared at him. “And tell Carmine what you’re going to be doing for these men, Clark. Go on. Introduce yourself and tell him why you’re here”

Clark bit his lip. He had no choice. Turning to this handsome younger guy, who was gazing at him with curiosity, he said: “I… um… Good evening, Carmine. Uh. Sir. Mr Carmine, sir. M-my name is C-Clark K-Kent. And I… I’m here to make amends for t-tarnishing Mr Lewis’s reputation.”

“And how are you going to do that, Clark?” asked Lance Lewis. “Tell Carmine how you’re going to make it up to me. Don’t be coy now.”

“N-no, sir.” Clark hesitated, and then said. “I… I’m g-going to be s-sucking… um… sucking d-dick."

He could hardly believe it as the words left his mouth, and before he could stop himself, he repeated this statement.

“I’ve come to suck cock! I’m going to be on the other side of a… of a g-g-glory hole! Ooh!”

Carmine smiled and knelt down beside him. “Good to meet you, Clark. You look like you’re looking forward to sucking some dick.”

“Is that true?” asked Lewis, crouching down on Clark’s other side. “Is our intrepid reporter looking forward to a night of cock?”

Both Lance Lewis and Carmine turned their attention to Clark’s crotch. He knew what they would be able to see, even restrained by three separate layers of clothing. There was no use trying to hide the fact he was now sporting a prominent erection.

“I… I…. Well. That is… t-to my ah… surprise… I am… uh… quite c-c-curious to t-try it… to t-try s-sucking some… ah… some penises.. I mean… some cocks.”

Both men smirked at this, and then doubled up with laughter.

“Yup. A hypocrite. Just like I said. Well, now’s your chance, Clark. You can find out just what it’s like. This could be a whole new beginning for you, huh?”

“Hmm. Uh. Yes. Maybe. B-but you are going to lock me in, right?” asked Clark, anxiously. “You said you’d lock me in and I would be alone, that’s correct, isn’t it, Mr Lewis?”

“Of course,” said Lewis. “It’ll just be you in there. As long as you do your job for the evening and those lips work away, no one else will be able to see you, Clark. It’ll be our secret. You, me… and Carmine.”

“Oh. Well… good. That’s just swell. Th-thank you, Mr Lewis. Thank you, Carmine. Th-thank you f-for this uh… opportunity.”

“I think it’s cruel to keep him waiting,” said Carmine.

Lewis nodded. “Come on, Clark. Let’s get you ready. It’s nearly showtime for you, right.”

“Yes, sir,” nodded Clark. “It’s nearly showtime for me!”

Together, Carmine and Lance Lewis dragged Clark to his feet and led him into the public bathroom.

It was bigger than he had expected, but also much, much filthier. There were scraps of paper, old leaves and empty condom wrappers strewn about the floor. The walls were scrawled with graffiti and foul language. Much of the place was also awash with puddles, some nearly a centimetre high. The pungent smell of these shallow pools unmistakably identified the substance as urine.

“Ugh,” said Clark, looking down as his shoes squelched into the wet floor. “It’s… the whole place is so dirty. It’s absolutely disgusting.”

“Problem?” asked Lance Lewis. “The urinals in here haven’t been properly serviced for a while, but you know what men are like: they just piss away regardless. That’s not going to be a problem for you, is it, Clark?”

“No sir.” Clark shook his head. “Uh. Where is the uh… oh…”

There, just to the left of a filthy hand towel hanging limply from a rail, was the scene of his night’s adventure. The toilet seat was cylindrical, and most of the cistern had collapsed on the floor behind it. The seat itself was a dirty beige and caked with aged grime and dirt, though it was a good size. It was also soaking wet all over. And just in front of this, set in the wall above and to the left of the towel rail, there it was: the gloryhole.

“Gosh,” said Clark. “So… that’s it, huh?”

“It sure is,” said Lance Lewis. “That’s your destiny! Ready, Clark?”

He swallowed. The hole didn’t exactly look clean, but then nothing in here did. He looked down once more at the pool of urine in which he stood, and then slowly nodded.

“Yes, sir, Mr Lewis, sir. I’m… I’m ready, sir.”

“Great stuff,” said Lewis, “well I’m going to lock you in now, and you’lll have about ten minutes or so to acclimatise yourself before your first client.”

Clark frowned. “Ten minutes? You mean I’ll have to wait in here?”

“Of course. It’ll give you time to think.”

That was what Clark was unsettled by, but he didn’t say so.

Lewis pointed towards the disgusting toilet. “Go take a seat, Clark. You look great, by the way. I’m pleased to see you’ve come in your best, just as I ordered you to. That’s a fine-looking outfit you’re wearing.”

“Uh. Yes, sir.” replied Clark. “This suit cost a lot of money. It’s my-best.”

He ran his hands over the smooth, pristine black fabric of his trousers. For a moment he felt regretful, not wanting to sully his beautiful clothes in this disgusting place.

“Problem, Clark?”

“No, sir.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Lewis gestured again to the toilet. “So… come on, Clark… sit. Sit, boy.”

Hesitantly at first, feeling foolish, he moved towards the toilet. The seat was splashed with urine just like the floor, and he looked about for some toilet paper. Yet there was nothing but an empty cardboard tube hanging from the wall.

“Nope,” chuckled Carmine, as if reading his thoughts. “All gone I’m afraid. Nothing to wipe the seat with. Problem? I said, Problem, Clark?”

Trying not to think about the piss-splashed seat, Clark resigned himself. He pushed his glasses up his nose, took a deep breath and sat down.

“Ooh. N-no. No p-problem, Carmine, sir.”

Lance Lewis smiled broadly. “Excellent. You look just perfect there, Clark.”

Clark could see the men staring at his crotch. His erection was now painfully obvious.

“You know,” said Lewis, staring at the bulge in his pants, “I think you might be going to enjoy tonight more than you think.”

Unable to think of anything to say to this, with his cheeks flushing red, Clark said simply: “Um. Th-thank you, Mr Lewis, sir.”

Lewis nodded. He stared at Clark, sat meekly on his toilet seat, and then he and Carmine went out and he closed the door behind them. Using his x-ray vision, Clark could see the man was keeping his word and was turning a key in the lock.

‘Ten minutes,” Lewis called from behind the door. “Ten minutes and then it’s showtime, Clark. Be ready for cock o’clock, won’t you?”

“Oh!” gasped Clark. “Yes, sir. C-c-cock o’clock. I’ll… I’ll be ready for showtime, sir.”

There was laughter and then the footsteps echoed away.

What will happen to Clark, aroused and ensnared, as he awaits his night of depravity? Will he rise to the occasion, or will he fall at the first hurdle and hide his true, disgraceful desires, just as he hides his colourful briefs and tights beneath his sober black suit? And what on Earth is he going to tell his dry cleaners?

Find out right now, in the next chapter - “KINKSTER OF STEEL”

If you’ve enjoyed, then please hit Like and leave a comment… I hope you find it hot, just like Superman 😈! In the meantime, Happy #SupersubmissiveSunday!

Where the hell is chapter 3 of Glory Night? I mean, dear sir, I'm really looking forward to reading the next chapter of the story. I hope you'll be posting it soon.

A good question, @curiousgayus … not one, but two, red hot new chapters coming later today, with some cracking new images! Thanks for your appreciation and I hope you enjoy!

This is a real cover. For an upcoming superman comic.

They have to know how horny this looks right?!...Right?

https://screenrant.com/cowboy-superman-western-story-new-costume-terra-man/

You Ask Him Nicely

Superman: Glory Night, chapter 2

This is part 2 of a mature content erotic Superman story, inspired by a frankly stunning image of the Man of Steel sitting next to a gloryhole created by @Buffy2ville on Deviantart, who kindly gave permission for this - thank you. Many thanks to the old friend whose hot spandex-clad body features in the first pic for this chapter, and to SupermanRedboots whose hot crotch and legs feature as well, also by kind permission. No offence or copyright infringement is intended; it is purely for enjoyment, not for profit. And so I hope you enjoy...

Despite coming in early to try and get ahead, Clark’s productivity fell to almost zero for the rest of that day. After Lance Lewis terminated the call, he sat in silence for a few minutes. Then, with the office beginning to get busier, he stood up and hurriedly pulled on his overcoat, desperate to conceal the prominent erection bulging straight up inside his trousers, briefs and tights. This done, he left the office and walked around for a few blocks, waiting for his arousal to die down. It took far longer than he had anticipated, and by the time he returned to the Daily Planet, mumbling excuses about having to go for a coffee run, Perry had noticed his absence and took the opportunity to once again berate him in front of his colleagues.

“Little does he know,” thought Clark afterwards, sitting chastened at his desk, “just how much I’m giving up to help him and the rest of the guys here. I’m… I’m almost prostituting myself, just to save their jobs.”

Yet even as he consoled himself with this thought, there were other, more troubling facts which he knew that he was not fully admitting to himself. His erection had subsided at last, but even now, underneath the desk where he was sat pretending to work, beneath his smart suit trousers, Clark could feel a patch of wet spandex touching the tip of his cock; the legacy of how excited and aroused Lance Lewis’s proposal had made him. It was taking all of his considerable strength and willpower to ignore it, and not to dwell too much on why the idea of a night sucking dicks had taken such a powerful hold on him.

By mid morning he needed the bathroom, and he took himself off to the gents washroom of the Daily Planet. Finding the place deserted, Clark stared at himself in the mirror and slowly lowered the fly of his dark suit trousers. He pulled the zipper down as far as it would go and gently held it open, his hands shaking.

There it was: that slightly darkened, moist patch on his bright red briefs, shining out from beneath his sober city clothes. He felt ridiculous, as if his own penis was making fun of him. For a second it crossed his mind to strip at super-speed and rinse the stain out of his uniform. He could do it... using his abilities he could probably achieve this in what? Ten seconds? Fifteen? Thirty, maximum.

He stared at the stain on his briefs. With his index finger he reached out and touched it, dabbing at the moist spandex.

“Oh,’ he gasped at the sensations. “Oh!”

The thrill, as his finger probed the wet fabric, his cock responding enthusiastically to the contact! It was like an ache, for everything he had never been able to have.

Gazing at the tip of his finger, Clark wondered longingly what it might taste like. A moment later he gave in and raised it to his mouth. His tongue swiped gently at it, and he gave a slight moan of awe, instantly wishing for more.

Why should he put himself to the bother of rinsing out his tights and briefs? He found he did not want to rid himself of the evidence of his erection. He pulled the gap in his pants closed and drew up his zipper once more. By this point he was unable to use the bathroom as he had intended; inevitably his cock had risen up excitedly beneath his touch and was now stiff as a board once more. He pushed open one of the cubicles and seated himself within.

“This is where I’ll be by nine o’clock tonight,” he breathed. “I’ll be in a bathroom - a mens’ public toilet. Me, Clark Kent. I’ll be sat just like I am now. Except I’ll be there for a different reason. I’ll be there to… to suck cock.”

Once more, he wondered if he could address this problem as Superman. But Lance Lewis had been very clear in his threat to proceed with the libel case if he did, and there was no doubt that he could and would do this.

“But it’s more than that,” he thought, looking down at his bulging crotch. “I… I want to go through with it.”

And there he had it: for the first time Clark admitted the truth to himself. From the moment Lewis had suggested this terrible, demeaning way out of his predicament, a part of him had leapt at the idea. It tapped into desires, dreams and fantasies that he had smothered for years, never daring to hope that there might one day be a chance to act on them. How could he, Superman, the most powerful man on the planet, if not the entire galaxy, ever safely find a way to place himself in the kind of jeopardy that secretly he wanted so badly? The prospect of being helpless and sexually dominated excited him more than he knew how to articulate. And it was this which truly had him in thrall, not Lance Lewis. Clark knew that there was not a chance of him wriggling out of the disgraceful night that lay in store for him, because deep down inside he could not wait.

He sat there for a long time, and eventually it became clear that being in a toilet cubicle, an echo of what was yet to come, was doing nothing to reduce his hard-on. Adjusting his penis as best he could, Clark took off his jacket and walked awkwardly back to his desk with it draped across his arm, to try and cover his bulging pants.

He thought about when Lance Lewis had asked him if he knew what a gloryhole was. After his hurried pretence, he had then admitted the truth:

“No, Mr Lewis. No… it’s not true. I apologise. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t tell lies and I never have. I… I believe I do know what a gloryhole is.”

But this in itself was a lie, was it not? Clark did tell lies. Lots of them. He’d lied just now, telling Perry he’d gone out for a coffee run. He had lied upon returning from the bathroom, when Greg asked him why he was walking so oddly, and he’d made something up about being troubled by a stiff back.

“Stiff back? No. It’s a stiff cock that’s troubling me. And soon it will be lots of them. Lots and lots of stiff cocks…”

And of course, as Superman he lied every day of his life, to protect his secret identity.

“I do tell lies. Of course I do. Just… just when it suits me. That’s the truth of the matter, but I pretend it’s not. I pretend to be something better than that, in order to fulfil my own self-imposed moral standards. So… so why should this be any different? That’s it: I’ll do as Lewis says. I’ll go to this place and suck cock. He said he would lock me in, didn’t he? So they won’t know if I get hard. And after all, I might not get hard.”

But even as he said these words Clark shook his head; he didn’t even believe this himself.

“Who am I kidding? Of course I’m going to get hard. I’m hard again right now just thinking about it; heaven knows how turned on I’ll feel when I’m really there. But if they lock me in… then no one can see. No one will know that I’m actually… enjoying myself. That’s it. And I’ll save the Daily Planet, and everyone’s careers. And I’ll grovel to Lewis and earn his forgiveness. And this will all be just one other lie that I found acceptable. Something else to conceal from the public. The same way I never told anyone the truth about how badly Nuclear Man humiliated me and whooped my ass on the moon, or about how scared and turned on I was when Luthor chained me and dominated me, And in return… finally… finally I get to have some fun. Why is that so wrong?”

Soon after this, a text message arrived his phone, telling him the address in downtown Metropolis where he was to go that evening, to fellate these mystery men. But by this time Clark had already deduced where the place must be himself, he was so fixated on what lay ahead.

When the end of the working day came, he shot out from behind his desk and headed for home.

“Faster than a speeding bulllet,” he whispered under his breath.

Once back at his apartment, he undressed, stripping off his civilian clothes. He sat down on his bed dressed only in his Superman uniform. Holding up the trousers he had just taken off, he peered inside them. With interest, he stared at the little patch of precum that had gathered within, hidden below the surface of his sober city suit. He hesitated, and then sniffed it. He liked the smell, and inhaled it deeply.

“Soon… soon I won’t have to imagine,” he breathed. “The all-powerful Superman… I’m going to be able to inhale this musk for real.”

Lost in a strange reverie, Clark pulled the crotch of his pants right over his head, and then he lay down on his bed, legs stretched out and enjoying the sensory delights.

He remained like this for some time, the sensations as new as they were blissful to him, lying in this odd, meditative, calm and profoundly erotic state. At last, conscious of the clock ticking away, he tugged the pants off of his head and threw them across the room. Standing up, he turned and examined himself in the mirror.

His tights and briefs were now very obviously stained by the tip of his cock. Thankfully there had been no emergency today which had required Superman. And if anything happened tonight? He flicked a concealed switch inside his wardrobe, activating the back-up force of robots at his Fortress, who dealt with such matters when the Man of Steel was indisposed.

“One night off,” he muttered. “Just one. For once, I get to have some fun. Even Superman deserves that, surely?”

He shaved, and made himself look his best, before dressing in his finest suit, a sharp and crisply tailored black number. His hands shook slightly with anticipation as he knotted his tie. He looked immaculate.

This done, he sat down in front of the clock and waited, unable to concentrate on a single other thing apart from the night of fellatio that awaited him.

At 8.45pm, Clark Kent opened the window of his apartment.

“It’s time,” he said. “Oh. Oh boy. Here I go. I’m really going to do this.”

He grinned. “Up, up and away! And then… down, down… and down to… who knows?”

Clark paused for a moment, and then he shot off into the night sky dressed in his best suit, not bothering to switch to his Superman uniform.

What will Clark discover in the downtown bathroom in Metropolis? Will he back out, or will he go through with Lance Lewis's inglorious plan for him? Will Superman face a long dark night of the soul, or a long dark cock at the hole?

Next chapter coming soon... if you enjoyed then please hit “like” and consider leaving a comment. Happy #MeekManOfSteelMonday

And now, on a stunning bumper double-post day, we now return to the insidious Scottish backwater of Summerisle, where Superman has stumbled into a nest of mystic intrigue that has seen him seemingly stripped of both his dignity and his mighty powers. Awakening in the home of Lord Summerisle, since accepting champagne and gracious hospitality from his host, the hero has found himself intoxicated with lust and confessing desires he has kept hidden for years.

In an erotic frenzy, the flustered and newly powerless Man of Steel has already pleasured Lord Summerisle’s band of handsome acolytes, giving his first Superhandjobs and even a Superblowjob. Now, he has enthusiastically consented to let Summerisle have sex with him, ignominiously begging the man to take his virginity.

This new hurdle crossed, this fresh disgrace embraced, as he descends lower and lower on his journey of erotic discovery and adventure, wiill Superman at last get the release he so desperately craves? Surely even he cannot hold on any longer without helplessly blowing a load in his tights and briefs? Or can he?

Read on and learn more, in the next instalment of…

SUPERMAN: INTO THE WICKER MAN

Chapter 8, part 4 - The Sundered Spandex

'...I’m Superman - Superman the Superdickhead! Now fuck me, sir - fuck me, please! I want you, Lord Summerisle, to do me the honour of fucking me! Hhaaaaaah!’

As this terrible confession forced itself from his mouth, the Man of Steel began to fumble with his tights. Gripping the edge of the waistband, he began to pull them down, clumsily wriggling and writhing out of them. Yet he had only lowered them as far as his crotch, when Lord Summerisle snapped at him:

‘Stop that! I said, stop, Superman. Exactly what is it that you think you’re doing?’

‘Why,’ said the hero, his face a mask of confusion once more, ‘I…. I’m t-taking my tights off. I’m pulling down my t-tights… undressing myself… removing the last of my uniform… so that I’m ready for you, sir. I’m getting ready for you to uh… to f-fuck me, your lordship.’

‘Is that so, Superman?’ Lord Summerisle gazed coolly down at him. ‘That is all very admirable, however you are forgetting two things. Firstly, I have not yet consented to penetrating you. All we have established is that you want me to do so. And you do want that, right, Man of Steel?’

‘Oh! Yes!” gasped Superman. ‘That’s what I want more than anything, sir - for you to fuck me! Please, please, do it - f-fuck me, Lord Summerisle! Be the first to fuck S-Superman! Ooh! That’s why I was getting undressed for you, sir!’

‘How sweet,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘How like a blushing bride on her wedding night you are, Superman.’

There was laughter at this; Angus in particular hooted and snorted with derision, as Superman’s cheeks coloured further. Lord Summerisle remained calm, however.

'But that is the second thing you have overlooked, you Super cretin: What makes you think I am going to fuck you naked?’

Superman’s eyes widened. ‘B-but… I don’t understand… how else could you do it to me, sir? I can’t be fucked if I’m still w-wearing c-clothes?’

‘Can’t you?’ Summerisle smiled. ‘You’re powerless, aren’t you, Super-dickhead?’

Superman nodded, blushing slightly as he did. ‘Yes. I’m t-totally powerless.’

‘And so therefore your suit has none of its usual resilience, am I correct?’

‘Well… yes,’ said Superman, looking puzzled, ‘that’s right, sir.’

‘Well then,’ said Lord Summerisle, ‘that settles it. Angus, would you and the others be so kind as to take hold of Superman and to rip a hole in his tights. You see, Man of Steel… ha! Man of Steel? Hardly. Man of Semen, I should say. I am indeed going to grant your wish and fuck you, Superman. I’m going to fuck you while you are still wearing your world famous uniform.’

Superman stared at Lord Summerisle with horror, hardly able to comprehend what he was hearing. He had felt so focused, having given free rein to the ecstatic feelings he had repressed for so long, yet now his mind became conflicted once more.

He craved release; nothing else had mattered if it led to him finally being able to have the orgasm these men had promised him. The loss of his great powers; the removal of his status as the world’s strongest being; even the increasingly demeaning humiliations and sexual depravities that had been heaped upon the Man of Steel since his arrival on this obscure Scottish backwater - none of it had mattered, if it meant he could finally cum, and do so at the touch of another living being, dominating him. It was what he had wanted… what he had secretly longed for for years. And as he was only now becoming free enough to admit to himself, being helpless and humiliated like this, relinquishing all control to these Scotsmen was a turn-on more profoundly potent than anything he had ever experienced.

Yet now they wanted to despoil his uniform. Lord Summerisle had just instructed his man Angus to rip a hole in Superman’s tights. And somehow, this seemed a step too far.

He could remember the day that he had first been clad in his world famous spandex. The culmination of his studies with Jor-El. A chamber he’d never seen before had risen up inside his Fortress, sliding out of the ground before his eyes, and caught within that sea of white crystal, there it was, shining like the beacon it was to become: blue, red and yellow - a soft, sensual uniform in the colours of his adopted home, but bearing the sigil of his father’s house.

The spandex had been a nod to Earth too - a practical fabric from the new world, that would cling to Kal-El’s body, displaying every contour of his manly form for all to see, and at the same time benefitting from the invulnerability granted to him by the earth’s yellow sun. Right from the first time he put it on, he had had to restrain himself and keep his feelings in check, it made him feel so sexual. More of his natural instincts that Superman had learned to curb and suffocate over so many years.

Yet his invulnerability was now gone. Both Superman and his uniform were brought down, no longer imbued with god-like abilities and protection. And the garment which he, the world’s greatest hero, had made famous to the entire planet, was now at the mercy of mortal men, who wanted to rip it, for the base purpose of fucking the Man of Steel while he still wore it. Was this not, surely, a degradation too far?

Superman’s cock throbbed still, and he ached for release from the feelings that kept him in thrall. But to let this man tear his tights and penetrate him through them…

‘Interesting,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘You look rather put out, Superman. Reluctant, even. Have you nothing to say? Do you not want to be fucked on all fours in your uniform, Man of Steel?’

He smiled slyly as he spoke. Superman swallowed before responding.

‘I… I… I do want… that is, uh… I want to be f-fucked by you, sir. Gosh… yes, I certainly do w-want that.’

He gathered what little courage he could, choosing his words carefully.

‘But… ah… b-but I think you’d enjoy it more if I was naked. Without my uniform. You ah c-could have me s-stark naked on all fours. I th-think you’d like that more, sir.’

‘On the contrary, I think I’d enjoy it far more if I fucked you wearing your uniform, Superman,’ replied Lord Summerisle breezily. ‘Yes… on all fours and fully clothed in your tights and tunic. Think how you’ll enjoy it when I make you cum at last - you’ve already had one lot of human spunk in your crotch, drenching your genitals; now you can pump a fine load of your own out to join it!’

Superman felt his heart beat faster. He had to resist… although in truth, the idea of filling his tights was a thrilling one. Yet he had to stand firm, somehow. He drew breath to restate that he’d prefer to be naked.

Lord Summerisle’s eyes were suddenly wild and cunning.

‘What do you say, Superman? Shall I fuck you… fully-clothed?’

No…. No! Those words… ‘fully clothed’. So simple… ostensibly meaningless. And yet as Lord Summerisle uttered them…

‘Mind over muscle.’

In an instant, Superman was once more transported back to the most profoundly erotic moment of his life, long before he came to Summerisle. Back to the scene of his very first ever defeat: Lex Luthor’s lair. That fateful day. Eyes widening, knees knocking, his whole body trembling as the people’s champion stumbled backwards and tried futilely to run away from his ignominious fate.

Lex had smiled at him, giving a low chuckle as he watched the so-called Man of Steel retreat, attempting to stumble away. All that confidence and cockiness gone in mere seconds, wiped away to reveal this cowardly, fearful, weakened man in spandex, cringing pathetically before the one who had bested him.

‘I spared no expense to make you feel right at home.’

As Luthor advanced towards him, holding the Kryptonite, Superman caught a brief glimpse of Miss Teschmacher, and what he saw in her expression only added to his humiliation: disappointment, at seeing the world’s strongest man - the being known as “Superman” - brought down by the genius that was Lex Luthor, and now showing his true colours. And it hadn’t even taken one hour.

And there was Otis, drinking this delicious sight in too, staring incredulously at the real Man of Steel, now he didn’t have superpowers to fall back on. It was plain to them all that Superman was now the weakest creature in the room… weaker even than a goon like Otis.

Moaning both in arousal and despair at this utter humiliation, he slid down the wall, and as Lex went to put the chain around his neck, Superman lowered his head. It was so tiny, just the slightest inclination. But Superman knew deep down what he was doing. That minute movement, aiding his foe in chaining him, was an act of submission. And within the confines of his briefs and tights, he felt his cock stiffen with pleasure at the knowledge of what he’d just done.

With the chain about his neck, he heard them chuckling, as Otis said:

“I think Superman likes his Kryptonite necklace, Mr Luthor!”

And he did like it, even more than they knew. Through the effects of the Kryptonite, he felt panic grip him, as he wondered how he would possibly be able to conceal his growing erection. The spandex of his tights and briefs, which had always given him a secret thrill, now only served to make it more obvious how turned on he was, and soon he would be at full mast.

And then Luthor had done it: simply pushed the mighty Superman into his swimming pool. His shame was covered, as Earth’s champion toppled into the waters with a splash, placing his erection safely out of sight below the surface. And there the pathetic, powerless hero lay thrashing around. Fully clothed.

Lex had gone to attend to his plans for world domination, and left Superman floating in his pool with a hard-on he was unable to act upon… just as had been the case for most of his life. A powerless hero, writhing there in the water…

‘Fully clothed…’ he said out loud.

Lord Summarise looked curiously at him. ‘Something the matter, Superman?’

He shook his head. ‘No, sir. Nothing the matter. Nothing at all.’

There it was… his decision was made. And he was further unmanned.

‘Please do it, sir,’ said Superman. ‘You were right. You know best, sir. P-please… ah… d-do it… m-make a hole in my tights… and f-fuck me! Fuck me fully clothed, your Lordship! You were right. That’s much better than fucking me naked. Tear a hole in my tights and do it to me!’

‘Yes…’ said Lord Summerisle, with a wry smile. ‘That’s good. That’s right, Superman. Mind over muscle.’

‘Ooh!’ whimpered Superman. ‘Wh-wh-whuh… what did you just say?’

‘Mind over muscle,’ said Lord Summerisle, with mock innocence. ‘After all… I am something of a genius. Whereas you, now your powers are gone, are nothing but a Superdickhead… am I right, Superman?’

‘B-b-but…’ said Superman. Was it a coincidence that this man had echoed Luthor’s words from all those years ago, just as he was thinking of this.

‘Well?’ Snapped Lord Summerisle. ‘Answer me, Superman!”

‘Yes, yes,’ said Superman, anxious not to upset him. ‘I… now my powers are gone, I’m j-just a Superdickhead. You are a genius, your Lordship, and I… I am a S-superdickhead. It’s just that something you said…’

‘Mind over muscle,’ repeated Lord Summerisle, with a smile. He stared at Superman’s throbbing cock as he spoke. ‘Yes… you like those words, don’t you, Superman? They remind you of something that turned you on, am I right?’

‘Y-yes. Oh! Yes, sir. How… how is it you understand me so? It’s like you can see right into my mind, into my memories…’

‘Yes,’ said Lord Summerisle, putting his mouth to Superman’s ear. ‘That’s exactly what it’s like, Superman.’

He licked the hero’s ear gently, eliciting further ignominious whimpers. And then he moved in front of Superman, held him by the wrists, and looked the trembling Man of Steel right in the eye.

‘Now then, Angus - rip me a hole in Superman’s tights.’

‘Aye, your Lordship.’

‘Ooh!’ said Superman. ‘Ooh!’ He felt Angus’s fingers playing around his ass crack, stroking him and teasing their way up between his spandex clad buttocks. ‘Oh! Oh!’

Soon, this tantalising touch would be replaced by the cock of the magnificent Lord Summerisle; Angus’s fingers were like a herald going before a mighty king!

For a second or two more, Superman felt his buttocks teased. And then there was a loud tearing sound, as Angus sundered the blue spandex.

‘Oh!’ gasped Superman. ‘You’ve d-done it! You’ve r-ripped a hole in my t-t-tights! Ooh! Oh! Oh! Your f-fingers… I can feel them inside my tights, t-touching me there… you’ve split a hole in my uniform! Hnnnngh! Aaaah!'’

Can it be? Is Lord Summerisle really going to take the Man of Steel up, up and away? Will Superman’s ripped tights ever recover, or will his uniform forever now have an easy access hole, to the joy of villains everywhere? And just what is in that champagne?

Find out next time! If you enjoyed this then please hit like, and consider leaving a comment.

Happy #SupersubmissiveSunday!



Another unexpected detour before the next chapter of Superman: Into the Wicker Man. Inspired by a frankly stunning image by Buffy2ville on deviant art, here’s the tale of how Superman came to find himself in a sticky situation in downtown Metropolis.

As ever, this is purely for enjoyment only, no copyright infringement intended, nor any offence meant. if you enjoy then please leave hit like and leave a comment.

Superman: Glory Night, chapter 1

Hearing his laptop ping, announcing the arrival of a new email, Clark Kent looked up from scanning the front pages of the Daily Planet. He was sat at his desk in the office, just sipping a coffee.

“From Jimmy? Let’s take a look…”

Clark clicked on the email to open it up, and then raised an eyebrow. There was something embedded - a link for a video call. And a message alongside it which just read: “CK - it’s me. Please, please open this.”

He considered this. Surely only the real Jimmy Olsen would address him as “CK”. Yet opening an attachment seemed unwise; he’d already had to ask the I.T. department to scrub his laptop for viruses twice this month. And with the dire situation in which he currently found himself with Perry White, was it wise to risk angering anyone else?

He hesitated for a moment, and then decided to chance it. He clicked on the video messaging link and as the app opened up and the call went live, Clark’s eyes opened wide in shock. It was not his friend Jimmy Olsen; instead another face filled the screen.

“Hello Clark. Or should I say, ‘CK’. How are you doing, old pal?”

It was Lance Lewis - one of Metropolis’s veteran pornographers and a notorious maker of adult films. Clark had written countless articles about the man, denouncing his seedy profession. They had clashed at various social occasions, including most recently a charity ball where Lewis had tried to engage him in a reasoned debate. Unwilling to enter into a battle of words with the man, instead Clark had turned and stiffly walked away.

“You’re a hypocrite!” Lance Lewis had shouted after him as he departed. “Don’t tell me you never get horny or get your rocks off somehow. You sneer at my trade, but it’s a legitimate profession. Clark Kent is a hypocrite, and I’m going to prove it!”

For a moment, he had nearly stopped and responded to this. But what would be the point? There was no arguing with men like Lance Lewis.

Now, that face was grinning from his laptop screen. Lewis had glossy, shoulder length dark hair and dark eyes, with high cheekbones. He was somewhere in his early thirties, and was dressed in one of his customary sharp designer suits, looking immaculate.

“How are we feeling this fine morning, Mr Kent?” asked Lewis. He gave a smirk. “Did you wake up with morning wood? Was your little CK standing tall and proud, like the fine, upstanding citizen you are?”

Clark checked about him, but he was alone; he was nearly always the first in the office.

“Lewis, you deranged pervert,” he said through clenched teeth, “have you completely lost your mind? Why are you messaging me like this? I’ll thank you to keep your sick fantasies to yourself!”

Lance Lewis smiled and wagged his finger. “Come, come, Clark. Why would I not get in touch? You’re the reason, after all. You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you? Your latest article, libelling me, has gone far enough. I want you to make amends.”

Clark swallowed. The man was correct. Perry and the Daily Planet’s legal team had hauled him over the coals for the latest piece he’d written, wherein he had gotten carried away with some of what he was blaming Lance Lewis and his fellow pornographers for. The article had made a tenuous link behind the adult entertainment industry and a rise in crime. He had badly misjudged the tone, which came across as high-handed and sanctimonious, angering many who felt Clark was looking down at people from an Ivory Tower. A furious Perry White had accused Clark of making his self-professed “crusade against filth” way too personal, going so far as to claim he had become obsessed.

“Yeah.” Lewis grinned at him like a cat with its prey. “My sources tell me even your bosses have recognised what a naughty boy you are.”

“Men like you are diseased perverts,” hissed Clark. “I’ll take you down one day, I swear.”


“If I were you,” said Lewis, “I’d stop with the blustering and empty threats, because I hold all the cards. If you don’t do exactly as I request, then I will press home the libel case against you and the Daily Planet, and I won’t rest until I’ve sued your pathetic ass off and dragged your beloved newspaper into bankruptcy. Think about that, Clark: you’ll be singlehandedly responsible for the loss of hundreds of livelihoods. All because of your obsession for sanctimonious preaching.”

Clark felt his cheeks growing hot with panic. Lewis had a point. If he were to act on his threat, what he was saying really could come to pass. To be responsible for the closure of the Daily Planet, and for the loss of so many jobs, especially in the current social climate… it didn't bear thinking about.

Clark bit his lip. “What… what must I do?”

Saying this felt a little odd; it gave him a sensation he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Lance Lewis regarded him coldly, and then said: “Tell me, Clark - and answer me honestly. Are you a virgin?”

“Wh-what?” Clark now felt his cheeks blaze with embarrassment; he quickly checked to make sure he was still alone before replying.

“That’s… that’s none of your business,” he growled.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Lewis. “Start co-operating and being very nice to me, Clark, or it will go badly for you. I will ask you again, and I suggest you think hard before replying, dickhead: are you a virgin?”

Dickhead! This man had just called him a dickhead! Clark’s ego smarted; if only Lance Lewis knew it was Superman he was really talking to. Nevertheless, he couldn’t lie. He would have to answer the man’s question.

“Yes,” he said in a low voice.

“Yes what?” said Lewis. “Answer properly, and in a nice, clear voice, Clark. And make sure you address me respectfully as ‘Mr Lewis’ from now on. Understand me?”

Clark ground his teeth with frustration. For a third time he made sure no one else had arrived for work yet. And then, when he was satisfied of this, he said in loud, clear tones: “Yes. Yes, Mr Lewis. That’s correct. I… I am a virgin.”

Lewis smiled and applauded him. “Well done, Clark. Good boy. I was certain you had to be. Only a virgin would be so rabidly obsessed with other people’s sexual predilections.”


Clark seethed at being spoken to like this. “Well? What now?”

Seeing Lance Lewis’s eyes flash with anger, he hurriedly adjusted what he’d just said.

“Sorry. I mean, what now, Mr Lewis."
This sudden rush to adapt a more respectful demeanour made him once again feel a strange and unaccountably pleasant tingle. So much so, that he added, “What must I do, Mr Lewis? What can I do to… atone for my actions?”

Again… saying this felt pleasant and somehow… right.

“Well said, Clark,” said Lewis. “Atonement is what we need to get to. There’s hope for you yet.”

Lewis gestured behind him. It seemed he was in a toilet - a filthy public gentlemen’s lavatory. And Lance Lewis pointed to a hole on the wall, adjacent to the cubicle behind him.

“Tell me, Clark, do you know what a gloryhole is?”

Clark hesitated for a moment, and then said: “N-no…”

Lance Lewis studied him, looking him right in the eyes.

“Is that true, Clark?”

Damn. Clark took a breath. “No, Mr Lewis. No… it’s not true. I apologise. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t tell lies and I never have. I… I believe I do know what a gloryhole is.”

Lewis nodded. “Good boy. Thank you for being honest.”

Again, strange feelings washed over Clark at these words.

“So come on, Clark. What is a gloryhole?”

“It’s…” he took another deep breath. “It’s a hole through which… uh… through which men put their… their…” Clark reddened further, and then continued: “Men put their erect penises through the hole… to be…. Uh…. To be fellated… to be… um… ‘sucked off’. Is that… is that correct… Mr Lewis?”

“It certainly is, Clark,” said Lance Lewis gravely. “Just as I suspected, you’re not quite as innocent as you appear, are you?”

Clark’s eyes widened once more. This statement was more true than anyone could guess. If Lewis only knew about his secret identity, let alone the feelings he kept buried deep down. Best to just give him what he wanted.

“No, Mr Lewis, I’m not,” he said meekly. Yet again, he experienced a pleasurable tingle as he spoke. “I’m… I’m not as innocent as I appear.”

“No. Just as I said. Well, Clark - I have a treat for you.”

Clark furrowed his brow. “Uh… you do?”

“Indeed I do. I am prepared to ditch the legal case against the Daily Planet, and waive any future such action. I will forgive your ill-judged, sanctimonious vendetta and allow the whole thing to go away.”

“Gosh,” said Clark, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. With one finger he nervously pushed his glasses up his nose. “That… that would be wonderful, Mr Lewis. I’d be very, very grateful if you’d do that… sir.”

Lewis smiled at this added mark of respect.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. And in return, Clark, you would have to do one thing. One small thing, to secure the future of the Daily Planet and all your co-workers.”

Clark nodded slowly. “Okay… nothing criminal, I hope?”

“Not at all. It’s something that will bring pleasure to a lot of people.”

“Oh. Well… I guess that sounds great,” said Clark. “So… what must I do, Mr Lewis, sir?”

Lewis stared him right in the eye once again, and then said: “You are to come here at nine o’clock this evening and meet me. And then I am going to lock you in this toilet, where you will remain until morning, and you will suck each and every cock that comes through that gloryhole. Do you understand Clark?”

“Wh-what? You can’t be serious!”

“Oh,” said Lance Lewis softly, “I’m deadly serious.”

“But… but that’s not right! It’s public indecency! I can’t!” protested Clark.

“Not at all. This restroom may be public - it’s in downtown Metropolis... quite a rough part of the city. Yet it’s privately owned - by me, in fact. And so you would be performing acts of pleasure on privately owned property. And you would be locked in, so these acts would be our little secret, Clark. Surely that is a small price to pay, both to settle your indiscretion and to save the jobs of so many of your colleagues and friends?”

Clark thought rapidly. How could he get out of this? The most obvious solution was to show up for the appointment as Superman. Yet he wasn’t sure what grounds he could cite for intervening in this. And in any case, it seemed Lance Lewis had anticipated such a possibility.

“Perhaps you are considering trying to involve your friend, the Man of Steel. I promise you that if you do then I shall come at the Planet in revenge for your libellous words, with the full power of the law.”

It was a trap. But Clark couldn’t see a way out. He had blundered into this through his own misguided actions, and even Superman wasn’t above the law. He thought about what we was being asked to do, and the idea made him feel quite light-headed.

“I… I would have to do this… for just this one night,” he said, in halting and uncertain tones. “One night of… um… fellatio? Sucking whatever came through that hole? Whoever stuck their p-p-penis through there, I would be expected to… to pleasure them with my mouth? And then… the debt would be paid?”

“That’s right,” said Lewis, “one night of engaging in acts of pleasure, for a man whose lived a hitherto chaste life. You’ll even still be able to claim you’re virgin - if you still wish to remain as such by the time morning comes.”

Clark tried to make sense of what Lewis was saying. If he still wished to remain a virgin? What did the man mean?

“I think that’s a very fair offer, to save the livelihoods of so many people from your bungling. Don’t you agree, Clark?”

Clark swallowed. His mind was racing with so many thoughts, images and feelings.

“Y-y-yes, Mr Lewis, sir. It’s… it’s a very fair offer, t-thank you, sir. If you’ll do as you say…. If it saves the Daily Planet… and pays my debt… then… then I accept. I’ll… I’ll do it, sir. I’ll suck them all off.”

He felt his whole body becoming warm and flushed as he said this.

“Excellent. Then we have a deal, Clark. Agreed?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr Lewis.”

“Yes sir,” said Clark, “I w-won’t b-back out. I’ll be there for my… for my d-date. I g-give you my word.”

Lewis stared at him. “Good,’ he said. And then the video call was terminated.

“Hey Clark.”

One of his co-workers had just arrived. “How you doing?”

Clark slammed the laptop shut. “I’m… I’m good thanks, Greg,” he replied, his mind in a daze.

He was still struggling to understand the enormity of what he had just committed himself to, but it was not just this that concerned him. Clark cleared his throat awkwardly.

Pushing back his chair a little, he slowly gazed down at his crotch. Poking through the fabric of his expensive grey suit trousers was his rock-hard cock. It was ramrod-stiff and straining against the fabric of his tights, his briefs and his civilian clothes.

He had an erection. He, Clark Kent, had just promised to spend the night sucking dicks at the end of a gloryhole, and far from filling him with disgust, the prospect was making him harder than he could ever remember being.

“Oh boy,” he said softly. “Oh b-boy.”

Will Clark Kent aka Superman keep his word and spend a night at the gloryhole? Will he really wear his best suit? And what does Lance Lewis have in store for the haplesss Man of Steel?

We shall see! Happy #SupersubmissiveSunday!

A quick interlude before the next instalment of Superman: Into the Wicker Man. A hot story for a hot day, about what happened when Superman met Nuclear Man for the very first time…

A NUCLEAR ENTRY

He had known he was in trouble the first time he fought him. Luthor’s initial attempt to give life to the Nuclear Man was a bizarre and largely innocent creature, but Superman had known straight away that it was his equal in both strength and abilities - perhaps even stronger than him. Taken by surprise, the Man of Steel had followed his first, base instinct: he ran away and tried to hide from this twisted version of himself.

Yet as he crouched down, trying ignominiously to conceal himself behind a battered old car in the hope that the metal might hide him from the other man’s x-ray vision, Superman had felt what was happening inside his tights and briefs. He didn’t dare look at first, but then, intrigued by the sensations, he forced himself to do so, gazing down at his penis. And it was just what he had been afraid of.

“An erection,” he breathed, his heart beating faster. “I’m… I’m hard in my tights! Oh… oh no! Being faced with a man who is stronger than me, stronger than Superman… it’s making me hard! Hnnggh!”

In the end he had had no choice: Luthor’s creature had located him and challenged him. Superman could hardly fight him with a huge wet erection straining inside his briefs. As he cowered before his bizarre alter ego, desperately trying to conceal his bulging crotch, in the blink of an eye, the hulking brute had grabbed him, lifting him up as if he weighed nothing, and threw the astonished and helpless hero into a pile of stinking garbage sacks. And that gave him his chance. Superman did the only thing he could to salvage the situation.

He had rarely masturbated. Jor El had frowned upon it, seemingly preferring his son to remain chaste, even if it meant regularly waking to find he’d cum in his sleep, the shiny silver sheets of his Fortress bed wet and sticky with the results of his unwitting ejaculation. Now, as he lay among the garbage sacks, his adversary gearing up to strike again, with no alternative the horny hero unfastened his belt, yanked down his briefs, and using his super-speed he furiously jerked himself off.

It was all over in a matter of seconds, and Superman let out a yell as he blew a huge load in his tights. Even in the midst of this perilous predicament, it had felt wonderful. Hot Kryptonian jizz cascaded all down his spandex-clad legs, flowing thick and wet inside his tights. He longed to plunge his hand inside the soaking blue fabric and to touch his Super-spunk, to taste it. He briefly considered this, and even moaned as he imagined himself licking his own fresh cum from his fingers. But there had been no time to savour the experience.

Superman grabbed two of the refuse sacks and split them wide open using his heat vision. Then, pulling up his briefs and squishing them right back onto his sticky, spunk-soaked tights, he swiftly re-fastened his belt. Once more his body thrilled as he felt the tight, spunk-slick fabric pressing against him. It took all his will to ignore it, and click his belt shut. This done, Superman lay down and rolled around in the garbage, coating his spandex uniform in the filthy refuse, until his tights and briefs were completely soiled. Now anyone who saw him would think this was just down to him being hurled into the rubbish pile. They would never guess that in fact the Man of Steel had just pulled himself off and eagerly pumped his tights full of cum.

His disgrace thus concealed, Superman stood up once more and went back to fighting his opponent. He had won, on that occasion, more by luck than anything else. That first Nuclear Man was defeated and destroyed.

But now it was happening all over again. Lex had used the same ruse as before to summon him. And Superman had fallen for it, blundering his way into Luthor’s splendid penthouse apartment. Lex was waiting there for him, along with his nephew, Lenny who was unimpressed by the supposedly mighty Superman, proclaiming: “The Dude of Steel… boy, are you gonna get it!”

Lex bided his time, and allowed the Man of Steel to strut about, cocky and confident, posturing and preening as he fired off a few of his usual blustering, pompous sentiments, looking somewhat crestfallen as his words drew no reaction from the Luthors. He sensed they were toying with him, as if they were waiting for something and so, perplexed by his predicament, he fell silent at last. And when Lex was ready, that was when he had introduced the Man of Steel to his new creation – to the second Nuclear Man.

The effect on Superman was immediate and obvious. Whenever this had happened in the past, it had always been somewhere that he could conceal what was happening to him, or where no one else could see it. Thrashing about fully clothed, humiliated, and helpless in Luthor’s swimming pool. Alone and trussed up inside Ross Webster’s super-computer, as its wires and tendrils tantalisingly explored his body, a pulsing anal probe making him feel wicked pleasures he had never known possible. Or writhing beneath the pile of garbage sacks outside the nightclub, where the first Nuclear Man had casually thrown him, as if the Man of Steel himself had been just another stinking sack of trash to be tossed out.

Now, however, there was nowhere for Superman to hide. It was broad daylight, gleaming sunshine streaming down on to the terrace of Lex’s spectacular penthouse. And as he gazed at Nuclear Man - this golden titan, forged from his own DNA, his body literally crackling with power - the Man of Steel’s eyes widened with utter, craven terror. And his cock stiffened and stood to attention with total, throbbing arousal! Within his tights and briefs he felt it straining for release.

In that moment, little more than a few seconds, Superman’s status as the alpha male in the room was stripped from him, as was his standing as the most powerful man in the world. It had been removed, taken from him without a word being uttered, or a punch being thrown. This new Nuclear Man was stronger than him - and they all knew it.

Luthor chuckled. The effect this was having on Superman was clear. He gestured to the hero’s erection and called for his nephew Lenny to come and take a look.

“Awesome! Look at what my Uncle Lex has done to you! The Dude of Steel’s got a boner in his panties!” guffawed Lenny Luthor.

“That’s right,” said Lex, grinning widely. “Lenny’s correct, isn’t he, Superman? Or do you disagree with his assessment of the situation? Well, come on now, answer me, Supe baby. Truth and justice is your thing, after all… so tell us, is Lenny right? What’s happening in your tights right now?”

“Luthor, you twisted…”

Superman went to protest, but as he looked down at his bulging crotch, his cock pushing and pulsing against his briefs, the words died on his lips.

“Hnnh. That’s right,” he said quietly. “He’s right. Your nephew is correct, Luthor.”

Lex shook his head. “That’s great. But you’re being a little shy. Don’t be shy. Say it, Superman.”

He scowled, cursing Luthor’s sick determination to humiliate him. Yet his penis continued to pulse with arousal, and so Superman did as he was told and said:

“Okay. You win, Luthor. I’m… I’m hard. There. I’ve admitted it….”

Superman raised his eyes and forced himself to look at Nuclear Man, and with a fear he had never known before he shivered.

“I’m hard,” he said again, gazing at those bulging muscles, that powerful body. “I have… I have an erection. Oh! Th-there… happy now?”

“Make him say the exact words, Uncle Lex,” sniggered Lenny. “Please?”

“Hmm,” said Luthor, “you heard Lenny, Superman. Stop trying to hide behind your dignity; it's long gone. Say it properly. Summarise the situation for us precisely as he did. Go on.”

Superman made a sound of frustration and annoyance, and as he did so, Nuclear Man took another step towards him. The Man of Steel shuddered, seeing those glowing footprints as his foe moved closer.

“I… I’ve got a b-boner in my tights!” he cried. “There! Happy now? I’ve g-got a b-boner in my tights! Oh!”

“Nearly,” said Lex, “but not quite.”

“Your panties, Super-dumbass,” said Lenny Luthor. “Not just your tights, your panties!”

Superman glowered at the pair of them but said nothing. But then a low growl came from Nuclear Man, a sound of unmistakeable threat, that became two words:

“Do it.”

Superman’s eyes grew wider still at this command, uttered in such a low, chilling voice. And a second later he found himself saying:

“I’ve got a boner in my panties! Okay! I’ve g-got a b-boner in my tights and my… my… oh… in my tights and p-p-panties! There! I said it.”

The Luthors applauded and cheered. And all Superman could do was stand there, impotent before them both as they toasted his humiliation, raising their glasses of champagne and touching them to his erection, making him whimper with helpless longing. His cheeks blazed with disgrace… but he was more turned on than he had ever been before. And Nuclear Man stared at the hero’s stiff and throbbing cock and gave another low growl.

“I’ve always known you better than you know yourself,” grinned Lex. “I knew exactly what you needed, Superman. I knew what you couldn’t resist. You needed someone to take all that control away from you. To take charge of you. Aren’t you going to thank your old pal Lex, Supe baby?”

Superman swallowed. “What now, Luthor? What… what’s he going to do with me?”

“Uh-uh!” said Lex, warningly. “Time to start behaving more respectfully toward me now, Supe baby. It’s Mr Luthor to you now, understand? Well?”

Superman swallowed, and his cheeks grew as red as his briefs. “Yes… yes sir, Mr Luthor. I understand, sir.”

Lex nodded. “That’s better. You’re learning, Superman.”

“Please,” said the hero. “P-please, Mr Luthor. Wh-what… what is he going to do with me, sir?”

Nuclear Man began to laugh now, a deep bass, threatening sound, and lightning crackled across his hands. It made Superman’s blood run cold, and before he could stop himself another terrible, cowardly whimper escaped his lips:

“Ooh! Oh no,” he breathed, and a second later another demeaning whimper followed. “Ooh! Ooh!”

“What is he going to do with you?” said Lex. “Well, that’s simple, Superman. I’m going to leave you boys together to get better acquainted, and then Nuclear Man is going to knock you around, beat you up a little. Maybe bend you over his knee and give you a bit of a spanking. Get the measure of you, Supe baby. He wants to see for himself just how puny you really are, compared to him. Because trust me, Superman, you really are no match for this guy.”

Superman’s cock trembled, and a few drops of precum foamed up across his red briefs.

“No, Mr Luthor,” he began, “don’t do this, sir. Please don’t leave me alone with him. Can’t we talk about this? Please!”

“Hmm,” said Lex. “Ask me on your knees, Superman. Go on. That’s how I want to see negotiations commence.”

Superman closed his eyes. But there was nothing else for it. He nodded, and just as instructed, he swiftly got down on his knees before Lex.

“Please Mr Luthor,” he said, “I’m on my knees and begging you: please don’t set your creature on me. I beg you, Mr Luthor, please.”

He looked up hopefully. Surely this terrible act of submission would be enough to placate Luthor. But the next moment Nuclear Man was looming over him, and his giant hands clamped Superman by the shoulders.

“Don’t worry, Superman,” smiled Lex. “It’s like I said: I know you better than you know yourself. You’re going to love what he’s going to do to you. Lay back and embrace it, Big Blue.”

“No,” said Superman, “please, no! Oh! Ooh! Ooh!”

Nuclear Man pulled him up by the throat and held him in front of him, dangling the terrified Man of Steel in mid air. He raised his index finger and it crackled with dazzling raw power. And then he ran that same finger over Superman’s stiff penis.

“Aaaah!” gasped the hero, wetting his briefs with still more precum. “Ooh! Oh! My p-penis! What’s he d-doing to me! Help me, Mr Luthor, please!”

“Look, Uncle Lex,” cried Lenny, “Superman’s wet his panties!”

“He certainly has,” smiled Lex. “Come on – let’s see how he’s enjoying this.”

He reached out one hand and ran his index finger around the top of Superman’s erect penis, and the Man of Steel gave a howl of arousal and embarrassment, his erection helplessly throbbing at his enemy’s touch.

“Excellent,” said Lex. “Come on, Lenny – you have a go.”

And as Nuclear Man dangled the whimpering Man of Steel before them, the Luthors took turns at toying with his penis, making him gasp and moan, until at last they grew bored.

“Goodnight, sweet prince,” said Lex, giving Superman’s cock a final squeeze. “Parting is… inevitable. Play nice, now, won’t you?”

“One last thing, Uncle Lex,” pleaded Lenny. “Superman – say: ‘I’ve wet my panties’. Go on.”

Lex pointed at the Man of Steel.

“You heard my nephew, Superman. Do as he says.”

Superman nodded. “Yes sir, Mr Luthor, sir. Lenny’s right. I… I’ve wet my panties, sir. There. Shall I say it again? Hnngh.”

He didn’t wait to be asked.

“I’ve wet my panties! I’ve wet my panties!”

Superman felt himself sudden whipped up into a frenzy, and he shouted the words out loud: “I’ve wet my panties! I, Superman, have wet my panties! Hnnnnnngh! Ohhhh! Ooh! Ooh!”

Nuclear Man let him fall to the ground, and as Superman raised his head, the Luthors both turned and walked away, having seemingly tired of humiliating him.

Nuclear Man growled once more, and with one foot he pushed Superman on to his back, and placed his boot on the hero’s S-shield.

“Now. I have fun.”

What follows is a work of adult fiction, meant entirely for pleasure, involving Superman, the Man of Steel, exploring his secret and long-held sexual fetishes with other men. It is not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended, nor any offence meant.

If any of this means it is not for you for whatever reason, or if you feel it is likely to cause offence then please do not proceed any further.

However… if you would like to see what happens next to Superman, powerless, horny and at the mercy of the fiendish mystic Lord Summerisle and his band of handsome young men… well then, read on! If you thought times were hard right now, trust me, they’re even harder for the hapless Man of Steel. Superman has been lured to this strange Scottish island, and he now finds himself helpless and in the throes of a profound sexual awakening…

SUPERMAN: INTO THE WICKER MAN

Chapter 8 part 3 - Breaking Free

Lord Summerisle looked down at Superman’s eager face and wide eyes. The Man of Steel craved release so badly, but he had now been taught to respect and obey. It was time to test that obedience, to see just how far he would go. In order to bend Superman to his purpose, he had to make sure his loyalty was both blind and unquestioning.

‘Anything, Superman?’

‘Yes! Oh yes! Absolutely anything at all, sir. Do you…’ Superman hesitated for a second and then said, with an excitement in his voice that he could not disguise:

‘Do you want me to, uh… suck you off, your Lordship? I think… I think I did a good job just now, didn’t I?’

‘Well,’ said Lord Summerisle, ‘you might well think you did a good job, but that’s not for you to say. Let’s see what Angus thought. How was Superman’s cocksucking? Were you pleased with him? Did the Man of Steel deliver a Super-blowjob?

The Man of Steel turned his gaze on Angus, looking across at him eagerly, craving the lad’s approval. To his slight surprise, he noticed that Angus had swapped underwear with Darius; after cumming in Superman’s mouth, the handsome young man had pulled on the first garment he’d happened upon. Darius was now wearing the pristine white Calvins and Angus was sat on the floor in black briefs and socks, regarding the hero with languid amusement. Superman forced himself to look him in the eye, as he asked in a quavering voice: ‘Did I…. Did I do a good job, Angus? Was it… I mean… did I p-please you?’

Angus said nothing, but just stared at him. Superman felt his heart begin to race, and he could barely keep the anxiety from his voice. ‘Angus? Sir? Was my… was my c-cocksucking okay? I tried my best, honest.’

Angus stood up and gave a smirk as he began to slowly walk in a circle around the kneeling, lust-crazed Man of Steel. He took his time before answering, but at last he said:

‘It wasnae bad, Superman. But I think ye missed a bit. Aye… just here.’

He slowly slid his black briefs down his beautiful thighs and held up his dick, proffering it to the astonished and horny Man of Steel.

‘You see, Superman,’ said Lord Summerisle, ‘you have much to learn.’

‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry Angus! I’m sorry, sir! I’ll fix it!’

Before their eyes, Superman scrambled across on his knees and reached for Angus’s cock with one tentative, trembling hand.

‘I apologise, Angus,’ he said, ‘that was clumsy of me, sir. Please… please may I please be permitted to make amends?’

Sure enough, there were a few drops of cooling spunk that had made their way to the tip of Angus’s shaft. Wide-eyed, Superman stared at them and licked his lips.

‘Aye. Ye may, Superman,’ said Angus. ‘I permit you to lick those last few drops of my cum… which you so carelessly left behind.’

‘Oh, thank you!’ The horny hero babbled and gripped the now flaccid penis. ‘Thank you, Angus, sir. That’s very kind of you, sir. Thank you for letting me… mmmm…. Mmph.’

Superman thrust the penis between his lips and greedily sucked away at the rogue drops of spunk, moaning gently as he did so. By the time he had thoroughly cleaned Angus’s dick with his tongue, the lad was stiffening again, in spite of himself.

‘Hnngh. Oh man… Yeah… it’s got tae be said… that’s… no bad job you’re doing… good boy, Superman,’ Angus gasped. ‘This is a talented wee cocksucker we’ve got here, your Lordship. Good boy.’

Lord Summerisle chuckled. ‘Well done, Superman. It seems your newfound cocksucking skills do, in fact, speak for themselves.’

The lads all applauded at this and Superman’s eyes gleamed.

‘That’s enough now though,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘Angus - second helpings aren’t on the menu… yet.’

‘Pity,’ said Angus, as he reluctantly withdrew his semi-erect cock from Superman’s mouth. ‘The Man of Steel looks like he could use a wee bit more. He’s certainly earned it. You’re well on your way to becoming a Super-cocksucker, my man.’

Superman licked his lips and allowed himself a grin of pride at this compliment, delighted to have begun to win the approval of Lord Summerisle’s men. As Angus pulled up his black briefs and stuffed his cock back inside them, the hero returned his attention to Lord Summerisle.

‘Thank you, Angus, and thank you, your Lordship,’ he babbled. ‘Oh, thank you! I’m glad to have done a good job sucking Angus’s cock. I’m pleased you think I have potential… the potential to be a Super-cocksucker. And now…’

His eyes strayed to Lord Summerisle’s crotch, where a sizeable package was bulging against his expensive coal black trousers.

‘Now, your Lordship,’ said Superman, somewhat hoarsely. ‘Can I… that is… d-do I g-get to…. I mean… please… please may I have the honour of sucking you off too, sir?’

The hero looked up with pleading in his eyes. ‘I promise I’ll do my best, sir. I’ll give you a S-super B-blowjob.’

‘I do not doubt it,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘But I’ve already seen you give fellatio your best shot, Superman. Now it’s my turn with you… my turn to use you for pleasure, however I see fit. And I have no interest in being sucked off by you just now.’

‘Oh!’ exclaimed the Man of Steel, his expression suddenly one of keenest disappointment. ‘B-b-b-but I thought… oh, p-please… please let me suck it, sir! I’ll do an even better job this time, I swear!’

‘Shut up,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘You said you would do anything, didn’t you, Superman?’

‘Yes!’ The hero nodded rapidly. ‘Anything, sir, anything at all to thank you for wh-what you’ve d-d-done for me.’

‘Excellent,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘In that case, get back on all fours, Superman. I intend to fuck you. How do you feel about that?’

‘Whuh…. What?!’

The Man of Steel sank back a little, as if winded. Despite his rapid descent into these untold disgraceful delights, he had not seen this coming. ‘I… um… I….’

‘Come along,’ smiled Summerisle. ‘Don’t be coy. How do you feel about me fucking you, Superman? Taking you from behind. Doing you on all fours. How would that be with you?’

The hero swallowed. This was not what he had anticipated… being penetrated by another man. And yet…

‘I… well… I g-guess I did say I would do “anything”, your Lordship,’ he mumbled, staring awkwardly about the room. Lord Summerisle’s men were all watching him, hungry as a pack of wolves. ‘If you… if that’s what you want…. What you want to d-d-do to me…. Then I guess it’s okay with me. Whatever you say, sir.’

Summerisle grabbed him by the jaw and forced Superman to look up.

‘Spare me your fawning, you craven little prick,’ he hissed.

Superman couldn’t stop the amazement from showing on his face; no one would ever normally dare speak to him like this. Once again he registered the novelty of being in the presence of a more dominant man, one who was so obviously the Alpha in the room.

Lord Summerisle stared down at the hero, reading every emotion, taking note of everything Superman was experiencing. There was an innocence about his expression, mixed with confusion, arousal and terror. Summerisle found it both potent and addictive, and so he nodded slowly and went further.

‘I asked you, Superman, you ridiculous, horny little coward, to tell me how you felt about me fucking you. Not to tell me that you’d go along with it because I ordered you to. I can order you to do anything I wish. I want to know what it is that you want? Come on - dig deep, you grovelling little…’ he paused and then continued: ‘you grovelling, pathetic little Super-dickhead… tell me what it is that you want. NOW!’

‘Ooh! Oh! Ooh!’

Superman whimpered suddenly, his cock throbbing with excitement at Lord Summerisle referring to him in this demeaning way. He looked down at his crotch as a fresh bloom of white pre-cum bubbled up across the blue spandex of his tights, wetting them further still.

‘Oh! You… you c-called me a… a S-s-super…. A Super-dickhead! Ooh! Hnngh. Uhhhh…! Unthinkable… you… no one t-t-talks to me like this… ooh! A S-Super-dickhead! Ahhh! Oh boy…!

The effect this was having on the hero was obvious. Summerisle’s men began to close in on him, sensing his increased arousal.

‘Indeed I did, Superman. For that’s what you truly are: Superman, the Super-dickhead. Isn’t it? I said, isn’t it?’

‘Yes!’ said Superman. ‘You’re c-c-correct, sir. I… I… I’m Superman, the S-s-s….’

He closed his eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. He looked back down at his wet crotch. There was now so much white bubbling up and out across his blue tights that it was as if a can of shaving foam had burst inside them. And it made him feel so, so horny… and so foolish. It was just as his Lordship said.

He began to nod his head. ‘I’m Superman the Super-dickhead. That’s right… a Super-dickhead. That’s me. Oh. Oh boy. Oh god…’

Lord Summerisle gave an approving smile. ‘Just so. And now… answer the question. Answer it honestly, or I shall make sure you never, ever get the blessed release you so crave. How do you feel about men fucking you, Superman? How does the Man of Steel feel about me fucking you?’

How do I feel about him fucking me?

Superman found these words echoing inside his head. His mind clouded over and suddenly it was as though he was back at the Fortress of Solitude. He imagined himself kneeling before the Elders of Krypton, his cock hard, shaming him in his tights and briefs. Those stern, patrician faces, ghosts of a world he had never truly known, staring down at him in judgement.

‘You cannot do this thing, Kal-El.’

‘You are the Last Son of Krypton. You may not dishonour your race this way. We shall not allow it.’

‘The son of Jor-El is erect! How dare you be erect in our presence! You must resist your filthy lusts. You shall have no release!’

‘No release! No release! No release!’

‘No!’ shouted Superman. He remained meekly on his knees, but his voice was defiant.

‘Why should I have no release? Why should I live a life without knowing pleasure? This is my home now, not Krypton. And I have kept my desires secret long enough. I… I… I am…’

He shook slightly, gathering all of his strength and willpower to give him courage to say what was in his heart.

‘I am Superman. That’s what they call me here. The Man of Steel. Yet today… today I… I sucked another man’s penis…’

He gazed up at the Elders of Krypton, trying not to lose his nerve.’

‘I’m Superman, he repeated, ‘and today I sucked cock for the first time, and I liked it! And I’m good at it! I sucked a cock and I felt such pleasure… and I won’t apologise for that… I won’t! And I want more!’

He went to activate his heat vision, but nothing happened. The ghostly faces of the Elders of Krypton disappeared, each shaking his head in disapproval as they faded away.

Superman blinked. He was still on his knees in the house of Lord Summerisle, into whose eyes he now found himself gazing.

‘Well, Superman? Answer the question. How do you feel about me fucking you?’

How do I feel about him fucking me?

Superman bit his lip, but he could remain silent no longer. He blurted out:

‘I want you to do it! Please! I do want it…. I want you…. I want you…. oh! I want you to fuck me, Lord Summerisle! Oh! There, I said it! I… I’m Superman… I’m the most powerful being in the world… or I was before I came here. But now… I’m here in your house…utterly and literally powerless… I’m on my knees before you and I want you to fuck me, sir! I want you - no, I beg you to do it!’

The men applauded him once more, and it gave Superman courage. He smiled calmly at them all, panting as he looked about him, feeling his penis throb with delight as he spoke. He was breaking free at last!

His expression now solemn, Superman looked up at Lord Summerisle.

‘I don’t care what the Elders of Krypton would say. To… to the Phantom Zone with them all! They all died long ago, and I… I’m alive. Yes. I’m alive and so… and so… Oh boy… I can’t believe I’m saying this…! P-p-please… fuck me, sir! Ooh! Oooh! Fuck me, now! Yes! Do it to me, your Lordship - take me down! You are the Alpha, not me - it’s time to give it to me. Fuck me like the Super-dickhead that I am! I want it so, so badly! That’s the truth! Hnnnnnnngh! I’m Superman - Superman the Superdickhead! Now fuck me, sir - fuck me, please! I want you, Lord Summerisle, to do me the honour of fucking me! Hhaaaaaah!’

How will Lord Summerisle react to Superman’s latest admission? Will the Man of Steel ever get the release he so desires? Will the Elders of Krypton ever recover from seeing Kal-El’s erection? And will Angus get a second helping?

Find out next time! If you’ve enjoyed it please leave a comment and hit like. Meanwhile, happy #SupersubmissiveSunday!

#supermandefeated#supersubmission#supermanhumiliated#heroperil#vincent zeal#heroesdefeated#spandex#pantsdown#briefs#superherohumiliation

What follows is a work of fiction, meant entirely for pleasure, involving Superman, the Man of Steel, exploring his secret and long-held sexual fetishes with other men. It is not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended, nor any offence meant. If any of this is not for you for whatever reason, or if you feel it is likely to cause offence then please do not proceed any further.

However… if you would like to see what happens next to Superman, powerless, horny and at the mercy of the fiendish mystic Lord Summerisle and his band of handsome young men… well then, read on! If you thought times were hard right now, trust me, they’re even harder for the hapless Man of Steel. Superman has been lured to this strange Scottish island, and he now finds himself helpless and in the throes of a profound sexual awakening…

SUPERMAN: INTO THE WICKER MAN

Chapter 8 part 3 - Breaking Free

Lord Summerisle looked down at Superman’s eager face and wide eyes. The Man of Steel craved release so badly, but he had now been taught to respect and obey. It was time to test that obedience, to see just how far he would go. In order to bend Superman to his purpose, he had to make sure his loyalty was both blind and unquestioning.

‘Anything, Superman?’

‘Yes! Oh yes! Absolutely anything at all, sir. Do you…’ Superman hesitated for a second and then said, with an excitement in his voice that he could not disguise:

‘Do you want me to, uh… suck you off, your Lordship? I think… I think I did a good job just now, didn’t I?’

‘Well,’ said Lord Summerisle, ‘you might well think you did a good job, but that’s not for you to say. Let’s see what Angus thought. How was Superman’s cocksucking? Were you pleased with him? Did the Man of Steel deliver a Super-blowjob?

The Man of Steel turned his gaze on Angus, looking across at him eagerly, craving the lad’s approval. To his slight surprise, he noticed that Angus had swapped underwear with Darius; after cumming in Superman’s mouth, the handsome young man had pulled on the first garment he’d happened upon. Darius was now wearing the pristine white Calvins and Angus was sat on the floor in black briefs and socks, regarding the hero with languid amusement. Superman forced himself to look him in the eye, as he asked in a quavering voice: ‘Did I…. Did I do a good job, Angus? Was it… I mean… did I p-please you?’

Angus said nothing, but just stared at him. Superman felt his heart begin to race, and he could barely keep the anxiety from his voice. ‘Angus? Sir? Was my… was my c-cocksucking okay? I tried my best, honest.’

Angus stood up and gave a smirk as he began to slowly walk in a circle around the kneeling, lust-crazed Man of Steel. He took his time before answering, but at last he said:

‘It wasnae bad, Superman. But I think ye missed a bit. Aye… just here.’

He slowly slid his black briefs down his beautiful thighs and held up his dick, proffering it to the astonished and horny Man of Steel.

‘You see, Superman,’ said Lord Summerisle, ‘you have much to learn.’

‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry Angus! I’m sorry, sir! I’ll fix it!’

Before their eyes, Superman scrambled across on his knees and reached for Angus’s cock with one trembling hand.

‘I apologise, Angus,’ he said, ‘that was clumsy of me, sir. Please… please may I please be permitted to make amends?’

Sure enough, there were a few drops of cooling spunk that had made their way to the tip of Angus’s shaft. Wide-eyed, Superman stared at them and licked his lips.

‘Aye. Ye may, Superman,’ said Angus. ‘I permit you to lick those last few drops of my cum… which you so carelessly left behind.’

‘Oh, thank you!’ The horny hero babbled and gripped the now flaccid penis. ‘Thank you, Angus, sir. That’s very kind of you, sir. Thank you for letting me… mmmm…. Mmph.’

Superman thrust the penis between his lips and greedily sucked away at the rogue drops of spunk, moaning gently as he did so. By the time he had thoroughly cleaned Angus’s dick with his tongue, the lad was stiffening again, in spite of himself.

‘Hnngh. Oh man… Yeah… it’s got tae be said… that’s… no bad job you’re doing… good boy, Superman,’ Angus gasped. ‘This is a talented wee cocksucker we’ve got here, your Lordship. Good boy.’

Lord Summerisle chuckled. ‘Well done, Superman. It seems your newfound cocksucking skills do, in fact, speak for themselves.’

The lads all applauded at this and Superman’s eyes gleamed.

‘That’s enough now though,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘Angus - second helpings aren’t on the menu… yet.’

‘Pity,’ said Angus, as he reluctantly withdrew his semi-erect cock from Superman’s mouth. ‘The Man of Steel looks like he could use a wee bit more. He’s certainly earned it. You’re well on your way to becoming a Super-cocksucker, my man.’

Superman licked his lips and allowed himself a grin of pride at this compliment, delighted to have begun to win the approval of Lord Summerisle’s men. As Angus pulled up his black briefs and stuffed his cock back inside them, the hero returned his attention to Lord Summerisle.

‘Thank you, Angus, and thank you, your Lordship,’ he babbled. ‘Oh, thank you! I’m glad to have done a good job sucking Angus’s cock. I’m pleased you think I have potential… the potential to be a Super-cocksucker. And now…’

His eyes strayed to Lord Summerisle’s crotch, where a sizeable package was bulging against his expensive coal black trousers.

‘Now, your Lordship,’ said Superman, somewhat hoarsely. ‘Can I… that is… d-do I g-get to…. I mean… please… please may I have the honour of sucking you off too, sir?’

The hero looked up with pleading in his eyes. ‘I promise I’ll do my best, sir. I’ll give you a S-super B-blowjob.’

‘I do not doubt it,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘But I’ve already seen you give fellatio your best shot, Superman. Now it’s my turn with you… my turn to use you for pleasure, however I see fit. And I have no interest in being sucked off by you just now.’

‘Oh!’ exclaimed the Man of Steel, his expression suddenly one of keenest disappointment. ‘B-b-b-but I thought… oh, p-please… please let me suck it, sir! I’ll do an even better job this time, I swear!’

‘Shut up,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘You said you would do anything, didn’t you, Superman?’

‘Yes!’ The hero nodded rapidly. ‘Anything, sir, anything at all to thank you for wh-what you’ve d-d-done for me.’

‘Excellent,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘In that case, get back on all fours, Superman. I intend to fuck you. How do you feel about that?’

‘Whuh…. What?!’

The Man of Steel sank back a little, as if winded. Despite his rapid descent into these untold disgraceful delights, he had not seen this coming. ‘I… um… I….’

‘Come along,’ smiled Summerisle. ‘Don’t be coy. How do you feel about me fucking you, Superman? Taking you from behind. Doing you on all fours. How would that be with you?’

The hero swallowed. This was not what he had anticipated… being penetrated by another man. And yet…

‘I… well… I g-guess I did say I would do “anything”, your Lordship,’ he mumbled, staring awkwardly about the room. Lord Summerisle’s men were all watching him, hungry as a pack of wolves. ‘If you… if that’s what you want…. What you want to d-d-do to me…. Then I guess it’s okay with me. Whatever you say, sir.’

Summerisle grabbed him by the jaw and forced Superman to look up.

‘Spare me your fawning, you craven little prick,’ he hissed.

Superman couldn’t stop the amazement from showing on his face; no one would ever normally dare speak to him like this. Once again he registered the novelty of being in the presence of a more dominant man, one who was so obviously the Alpha in the room.

Lord Summerisle stared down at the hero, reading every emotion, taking note of everything Superman was experiencing. There was an innocence about his expression, mixed with confusion, arousal and terror. Summerisle found it both potent and addictive, and so he nodded slowly and went further.

‘I asked you, Superman, you ridiculous, horny little coward, to tell me how you felt about me fucking you. Not to tell me that you’d go along with it because I ordered you to. I can order you to do anything I wish. I want to know what it is that you want? Come on - dig deep, you grovelling little…’ he paused and then continued: ‘you grovelling, pathetic little Super-dickhead… tell me what it is that you want. NOW!’

‘Ooh! Oh! Ooh!’

Superman whimpered suddenly, his cock throbbing with excitement in his tights at Lord Summerisle referring to him in this demeaning way. A fresh bloom of white pre-cum bubbled up across the blue of his tights, as he wet them further still.

‘You… you c-called me a… a S-s-super…. A Super-dickhead! Ooh! Hnngh. Uhhhh…!’

The effect this was having on the hero was obvious. Summerisle’s men began to close in on him, sensing his increased arousal.

‘Indeed I did, Superman. For that’s what you truly are: Superman, the Super-dickhead. Isn’t it? I said, isn’t it?’

‘Yes!’ said Superman. ‘You’re c-c-correct, sir. I… I… I’m Superman, the S-s-s….’

He closed his eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. He looked down at his wet crotch. There was now so much white bubbling across his blue tights that it was as if a can of shaving foam had burst inside them. And it made him feel so, so horny… and so foolish. It was just as his Lordship said.

He began to nod his head. ‘I’m Superman the Super-dickhead. That’s right… a Super-dickhead. That’s me. Oh. Oh boy. Oh god…’

Lord Summerisle gave an approving smile. ‘Just so. And now… answer the question. Answer it honestly, or I shall make sure you never, ever get the blessed release you so crave. How do you feel about men fucking you, Superman? How does the Man of Steel feel about me fucking you?’

How do I feel about him fucking me?

Superman found these words echoing inside his head. His mind clouded over and suddenly it was as though he was back at the Fortress of Solitude. He imagined himself kneeling before the Elders of Krypton, his cock hard, shaming him in his tights and briefs. Those stern, patrician faces, ghosts of a world he had never truly known, staring down at him in judgement.

‘You cannot do this thing, Kal El.’

‘You are the Last Son of Krypton. You may not dishonour your race this way. We shall not allow it.’

‘The son of Jor-El is erect! How dare you be erect in our presence! You must resist your filthy lusts. You shall have no release!’

‘No release! No release! No release!’

‘No!’ shouted Superman. He remained meekly on his knees, but his voice was defiant.

‘Why should I have no release? Why should I live a life without knowing pleasure? This is my home now, not Krypton. And I have kept my desires secret long enough. I… I… I am…’

He shook slightly, gathering all of his strength and willpower to give him courage to say what was in his heart.

‘I am Superman. That’s what they call me here. The Man of Steel. Yet today… today I… I sucked another man’s penis…’

He gazed up at the Elders of Krypton, trying not to lose his nerve.’

‘I’m Superman, he repeated, ‘and today I sucked cock for the first time, and I liked it! And I’m good at it! I sucked a cock and I felt such pleasure… and I won’t apologise for that… I won’t! And I want more!’

He went to activate his heat vision, but nothing happened. The ghostly faces of the Elders of Krypton disappeared, each shaking his head in disapproval as they faded away.

Superman blinked. He was still on his knees in the house of Lord Summerisle, into whose eyes he now found himself gazing.

‘Well, Superman? Answer the question. How do you feel about me fucking you?’

How do I feel about him fucking me?

Superman bit his lip, but he could remain silent no longer. He blurted out:

‘I want you to do it! Please! I do want it…. I want you…. I want you…. oh! I want you to fuck me, Lord Summerisle! Oh! There, I said it! I… I’m Superman… I’m the most powerful being in the world… or I was before I came here. But now… I’m here in your house…utterly and literally powerless… I’m on my knees before you and I want you to fuck me, sir! I beg you to do it!’

The men applauded him once more, and it gave Superman courage. He smiled calmly at them all, panting as he looked about him, feeling his penis throb with delight as he spoke. He was breaking free at last!

‘I don’t care what the Elders of Krypton would say. To… to the Phantom Zone with them all! They all died long ago, and I’m alive. Yes. I’m alive and so… and so… Oh boy… I can’t believe I’m saying this…! P-p-please… fuck me, sir! Ooh! Oooh! Fuck me, now! Yes! Do it to me, your Lordship - take me down! You are the Alpha, not me - it’s time to give it to me. Fuck me like the Super-dickhead that I am! I want it so, so badly! That’s the truth! Hnnnnnnngh! I’m Superman - Superman the Superdickhead! Now fuck me, sir - fuck me, please! I want you, Lord Summerisle, to do me the honour of fucking me! Hhaaaaaah!’

How will Lord Summerisle react to Superman’s latest admission? Will the Man of Steel ever get the release he so desires? Will the Elders of Krypton ever recover from seeing Kal-El’s erection? And will Angus get a second helping?

Find out next time! If you’ve enjoyed it please leave a comment and hit like. Meanwhile, happy #SupersubmissiveSunday!

Time at last to go back to that small Scottish Island, where Superman has been lured, only to end up an inadvertent guest in the stately home of Lord Summerisle. The Man of Steel has let his hair down, and his guard along with it, allowing the insidious Summerisle to slowly get inside his head, persuading him to reveal his deepest and most intimate secrets. Doing so has left the powerless hero horny as hell, and Lord Summerisle’s men have lost no time in gleefully opening Superman up to new experiences. They have all had their fun with him, each new act slightly taking the Man of Steel further towards his deep-buried depraved desires. We rejoin him now, as he basks in the ecstatic glow of having sucked off Angus. Superman has given his first blowjob… but will it be his last? Read on and see…

SUPERMAN: INTO THE WICKER MAN

Chapter 8, part 2: The Price of Pleasuring Angus

Just then he heard a clear, strong voice say softly: ‘So, now it’s my turn, Superman. Let’s see how you dance for the Organ Grinder, you helpless, horny, pathetic little monkey.’

Cautiously, Superman raised his head and looked up at Lord Summerisle.

The man was so imposing. He was gazing down at the Man of Steel with ice cold dominance in his eyes.

‘It’s just like he said,’ thought Superman, ‘there is an alpha in this room, and for once, not one single person thinks it’s me. Because he’s removed that from me. He’s taken that status away from me - he’s done that to help me realise my dreams. The dreams I had never even properly admitted to myself. This man… he’s amazing. He’s incredible. Such power…’

And it was true: no one could be in any doubt as to who was the alpha, the strongest man in the room. Not Superman, the Last Son of Krypton, who had arrived here with the powers of a god, yet had so easily been stripped of them, and who now was on his knees like a craven, lust-driven fool, missing most of his clothes and covered in cum. No, it was the man before whom he now knelt, who had done what General Zod could not: Lord Summerisle. This normal, mortal man with a fierce intelligence and a natural authority, who seemed to see right into Superman’s very soul, and whose gentle encouragement had deftly removed all of his defences and disguises, laying bare secrets he thought he would never reveal to another living being.

Without his remarkable abilities and his public persona to hide behind, how swiftly and how eagerly Superman had embraced sexual subjugation. Encouraged and tempted by Lord Summerisle’s handsome acolytes, he had rushed to be complicit in his submission, and in return… they had cum all over him and inside him, coating and filling his uniform and his mouth with their spunk. And he had revelled in it, embraced it, leapt at the chance to obey these men and to follow their demeaning orders, his body exploding with pleasurable sensations no experience in his life until this point could even come close to.

‘And I’ve sucked cock,’ thought Superman, as the events of the last hour tumbled over themselves inside his head, the full reality dawning on him. ‘I’ve sucked a cock for the first time in my life… and I liked it! Oh…. Oh god, and not only that: I begged for it! They told me to beg Lord Summerisle to let me suck Angus’s cock… and I did it! I, Superman, begged for the privilege of sucking this man off!’

Lord Summerisle crossed the room to refill his glass, and as he moved aside, Superman dimly caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the glass pane of one of the French windows. His eyes widened.

'If my enemies could see me now: the mighty Man of Steel… on my knees in my filthy tights and tunic. Ooh! Luthor, Zod, Nuclear Man… what would they say if they could see me like this? I told Zod I would never kneel, but I’ve done much worse now. And I’m still hard! Will they ever let me cum?’

‘My erection,’ he moaned softly, ‘aaah…’

Superman’s raging erection was indeed still pushing up, straining desperately against the soiled fabric of his tights, yearning for release. Once more, his hand moved to his cock, aching to end his torment.

‘Please,’ he gasped, ‘you’ve got to let me cum… please!’

Lord Summerisle was by his side in an instant and slapped Superman’s hand away before it could touch his penis. He was rather more forceful this time, and the hero gave a slight yelp at being struck like this.

‘How dare you, Superman, you great, blubbering buffoon?’ The Lord grabbed his chin and forced it upwards.

‘All I have done for you… all we have done for you… and your only concern is for your pathetic, virginal cock.’

‘But p-p-please, your Lordship,’ stammered the Man of Steel. ‘I thought you were all going to help me… let me l-l-lose it all… I thought… you’ve all c-c-cum… let me have release, sir, p-p-please!’

‘You self-absorbed, egotistical little cretin,’ sneered Summerisle. ‘You’ve not been paying attention, Superman, you horny, powerless little man.’

‘Wh-what do you mean? I d-don’t understand?’ Superman’s arousal receded somewhat, replaced by confusion and alarm.

Lord Summerisle thrust a glass of champagne at him, and roughly poured it down his throat, making him gag. He spluttered wildly, swallowing a bizarre mix of spunk and fizzing wine.

The Lord threw the glass aside. ‘Here you are in my house, Superman, in my home. We rescued you, and I had you cleaned up, offered you hospitality. I have coaxed out of you your most private desires, given you champagne, fed you the cock and fresh spunk that you so obviously crave… and you didn’t even think to do anything for me in return. Don’t you think that I, as the Lord of this island, and the man who has done so much for you, should cum before you, you pathetic Super-dickhead?’

‘Oh! Oh!’ Superman cried out frenziedly. ‘I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, your Lordship! Forgive me, sir! Forgive me!’

He threw himself down upon the ground and prostrated himself before the Lord.

‘I’m so sorry, sir! You have done so much for me. I got carried away. So… so aroused… I’m… oh! Ooh! I feel so horny that I’m not thinking straight. Of course you must cum before me, your Lordship. I want that more than anything, sir. You’ve been so good to me. You were right - you even allowed me to suck my first cock! I’m an idiot, please forgive me!’

Lord Summerisle ignored him, idly holding up a hand and examining his fingernails. Superman began to panic, and before he knew it, he was grovelling once more, hands pressed together as he pleaded.

‘Please, your Lordship. This is all new to me. Don’t forget, I’m a… I’m a virgin. A Super-virgin, not as experienced as you all are; it’s no wonder I was so thoughtless. What can I do, to help you cum, your Lordship? Please, please - I’ll do anything. Just tell me what to do.’

Summerisle looked down at Superman’s eager face. He could not help but be amused by how utterly crazed with lust the Man of Steel was; he practically salivating, so desperate was he for more.

‘I’ll do anything, sir,’ he said again.

‘Anything?’

‘Yes! Anything at all, sir. Do you…’ Superman hesitated for a second and then said, with excitement in his voice: ‘Do you want me to, uh… suck you off, your Lordship? I think… I think I did a good job just now, didn’t I? Didn’t I? Would you like to do the same for you, sir? I’d like to - it’d be my honour, in fact.’

With every word he spoke, Superman realised he was growing more and more turned on by the idea of sucking this extraordinary, dominating man’s penis.

‘Please,’ he murmured. ‘Ohh, p-please, Lord Summerisle. Won’t you do me the honour of letting me s-suck you off?’

Will Superman get what he wants? What does Lord Summerisle really have in mind for the hapless, horny hero? And how did Angus rate Superman’s first frenetic foray into fellatio? Will the Last Son of Krypton soon have his lips around the cock he craves? Or does a different fate lie in store for him?

Find out in the next instalment! Thanks for reading, and as ever, if you enjoyed it please leave a comment. More from Superman and the sinister Summerisle soon…

Happy #SupersubmissiveSaturday!

“Superman? What’s that in your briefs? It looks like some sort of device.”

“Yes… that’s exactly what it is. Mr Luthor installed it when my powers were temporarily knocked out. He was… he was way too clever for me, Jimmy. While I was weak and helpless, after he’d put the Kryptonite chain on me, he ordered me to take off my briefs and give them to him. It seemed a relatively innocent request. I didn’t think it could do any harm… I thought he was just trying to provoke me, humiliate me, and so to buy myself some time to recover, I agreed. I unfastened my belt, pulled down my briefs, stepped out of them and handed them over to Mr Luthor. I thought he would just use them to taunt me, and that while he was distracted with them I could try and free myself from the Kryptonite. But it was a dreadful mistake. I underestimated him.

“Once I slid them off, my briefs were no longer invulnerable, and Mr Luthor knew that would be the case. He made some quick incisions in them, even as I tried to protest, and he inserted this - a sort of living metal. I thought it was just a different kind of belt buckle - a petty gesture to make me look foolish, nothing more - and so when he returned my briefs, I could see no reason not to put them on… but as I pulled them back up my legs, in seconds the metal had begun to reshape itself. It flowed around my crotch and spread into tiny silver tendrils that penetrated the fabric of my tights, winding their way around my… my penis. 

“Oh!” I cried out, “Ooh! Luthor! What have you done to me? What did you put in my briefs?”

“He just stood there and laughed as I fell to my knees. In desperation, I tried to take off my briefs again, but it was too late. And just like that, my penis was in the hands of my greatest enemy; he can do what he wants with it. He trapped me, and tricked me, and now his device keeps me in my place… it keeps me submissive, binding me to him forever. Mr Luthor owns me now, Jimmy - all because I let him. I was a fool… a Super-fool. And now I’ve paid the price.

“He’ll be here soon, Jimmy. He ordered me to fetch you - he wants you to photograph what he has planned… he says it will be a record, to make sure I never forget.”