Supermantights - Tumblr Posts

‘I DON’T KNOW YOU, LADY’

'Huhhh!'

Superman was sent reeling backwards as the piercing beams washed over him. His mouth fell open and he gazed up in dumb amazement. He had not expected the computer to be able to synthesise Kryptonite so successfully, especially after Gus's previous failure. Not only had it managed to precisely replicate the effects of the green meteor rocks, but it was pumping them out across Superman's increasingly weakened body in the form of rays. Each one hits him like a wave, and each stripped him of a little more of his strength. In vain, he moaned and attempted to lift his legs and fly away, but he could now no more soar into the air than a normal man could. The machine was vanquishing him, and each passing second sealed his ignominious fate further. His limbs flipped and flagged as the deadly beams bathed and enveloped his body.

To his surprise, Superman looked up to see Lorelei exit the Supercomputer's hub and come striding towards him with purpose in her eyes. This was it, he thought: like Miss Teschmacher before her, she would come to his rescue and would save him from these rays that were bringing him to his knees.

‘Lorelei,’ he began, ‘help me... if you can just...’

But before he could continue she put a finger to her lips, to shut Superman up.

‘Aw, no, honey,’ she said, ‘that’s not right, is it? It’s like you said, sugar: you don’t know me, do you? It’s not “Lorelei”, now it’s just “Lady”. Isn’t that right, hun?’

‘Lorelei!’ Superman croaked her name again, his eyes wide, but she just shook her head.

‘No, Superman - you don’t know anyone called Lorelei. That was someone else - another guy. That was what you said.’

She stared at him with amused contempt. ‘Funny how you seemed to remember my name just fine before you came, isn’t it, Superman?’ But it's just like you said: you don't know me, right? That wasn't you. That was some other guy... the guy who wanted me to do all those things to him, right? Not you, Superman. Not you, baby.'

She looked coldly at him, and beneath the green rays, Superman felt his cheeks flush.

'Lorelei,' he gasped, 'I'm... I'm sorry if I hurt you...'

'Oh, don't worry, sugar,' she said, gazing at him with amused contempt, 'it's "Lady" right, not Lorelei? And I'm long past being hurt. I'd hate to bring you down by letting people think you associated yourself with little ol' me, Superman... let alone that you had me... pull your tights down and give you what you wanted. No, that was the other guy, wasn't it, hun? Not you.'

In shame, Superman hung his head. 'I'm s-s-sorry,' he said. 'but puh-please... if you release me then I'll...'

'You'll what? Tell the world about you and me? Admit what you did, and what you wanted me to do to you, Superman? What you had me do for you? Is that what you'll do?'

'I... um... I...'

'Thought not,' said Lorelei. 'Don't trouble yourself, sweetie.'

She took a step towards him, unaffected by the green rays herself, and with one swift movement she took hold of his cape and pulled. All it took was a short, sharp tug, and Superman felt it ripped from his tunic.

'What are you doing?' he asked her, in alarm. 'My cape... you took off my cape?'

'Mm-hm. I think I'm going to take a few things from you,' she said. 'Maybe I'll give them to that other Superman - the one who wasn't too good for me. I think he'd enjoy that. And after all, I was pretty good at guessing what he enjoyed.'

Superman's helpless body began to tremble. He had rarely, if ever, felt so helpless. Lorelei could see it too, and with a grin, she knelt down and began to tug off one of his boots.

'No!' cried Superman. 'Oh no! Please, Lorelei, don't!' But he was so weak now that it was as much as he could do to stand upright. And he felt her take a firm hold of his calf, lift up his foot, and the next moment his boot was taken from him and slung to one side. With one finger she toyed with the spandex of his tights, pulling at it and letting it ping back between his toes.

'Oops,' she said. 'Careful now, Superman, honey, or you might get your nice blue tights mussed up on the floor of this dirty ol' cave.'

She looked up at him. 'And the tights were real dirty that night, weren't they. When the "other guy" came and begged me to take his tights down. Your uniform was all dark and soiled. My, how it stank... But that wasn't you, was it Superman? You don't know me, right?'

He was beginning to feel so strange. A hot, delirious excitement was moving over his body, even as the insidious beams leeched his abilities away, and it made him tingle. 'Please,' he begged, 'please...'

Lorelei smiled, and began to tug at his other boot.

'My,' she said,' he sure was dirty, that guy who wasn't you. He had stains from the oil tanker on his tights... but more than that... he'd been sat for hours in a bar in downtown Metropolis, getting out of it. Working up the courage to come see me. He stank of booze... and sweat... and all sorts... Phew-ee! I don't know what he'd been up to in that bar full of men, but those stains on his briefs told a hell of a tale. He sure was a naughty boy... not like you, right, Superman? You're not dirty and naughty like that, are you? That's why you don't know me.'

‘Uh... no... he,’ said softly, ‘that’s right... I’m... I’m not d-dirty... n-naughty... uh... I... I...’

Softly, she peeled down the top of Superman's one remaining red boot, exposing his blue spandex clad leg beneath. Fingers grazed his spandex clad flesh as the boot was deftly taken down and away from him.

'Ooh,' whimpered Superman, 'ooh!'

'Yeah, that wasn't you, was it, Superman? How could it be? A fine upstanding Super-man like you... getting off his face and horny with the bums of Metropolis, then coming to get his rocks off.'

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I d-didn't mean to imply...'

'Sssh,' she said. With one hand on his thigh, she finally plucked off his boot. It slid away easily, and Superman's legs almost buckled beneath him.

‘Just in your tights and briefs now, big guy. Just like he was that night. I wouldn't let him in the bedroom until I'd made him take off his cape and boots. Not that it made much difference; your tights and panties were sticky as all hell with filth...oops, I mean his, not yours... right, Superman?'

'Y-yes,' he said feebly, 'h-him... not me. Not me... oh...'

She began to slide her hands up the inside of Superman's inner thighs, fingers lingering on his muscled legs in their spandex, relishing the feeling of the hero trembling in fear... and something else.

'Then... when we'd got you on the bed... I pulled you up by your filthy blue tights and red panties. I mean, duh! Not you - the other guy.'

Her fingers reached the bottom of his briefs and began to push their way inside.

'You were just wearing them, nothing else - your tights and panties, Superman. Oh, silly me, I mean the other guy!'

'Ooh! Ooh! Oh!' gasped Superman, as her fingers penetrated his briefs at the tops of his legs. By now it was obvious to both of them that his cock was hard; a throbbing erection was outlined underneath his red spandex. The Kryptonite rays had done their work and he was, by now, weak and utterly helpless.

'Yeah... you were a little tongue-tied then, too... oops... I mean the other guy was,' she laughed. 'But I know how to take charge, Superman.'

One hand slid up and through the bottom leg of his briefs and firmly gripped Superman's penis.

'Aaah! Huh!' he gasped. Superman felt the tip of his cock wetting the blue spandex of his tights. The cool fabric was slick and sticky against the sensitive flesh of his helmet, and the feeling was almost unbearably arousing.

From high above came the sound of applause. Ross Webster was stood at the controls of the computer, clapping wildly.

'This is wonderful, Lorelei! Now finish him off! I bet that's what you had to do him that night, right? Finish him off?'

Lorelei squeezed Superman's cock, making him cry out in delirious, ignominious lust. 'Oh, no, honey. He didn't need me, did you, Superman?'

'Please,' gasped the hero, 'please... I'm sorry... don't tell him... please! I'm sorry... it... it was me, all right? I admit it: it was me. I was... so ashamed.'

'Gosh,' said Lorelei, wide-eyed, 'you mean that was you after all, Superman?'

'Yes... yes... it was me,' he gasped.

'It was you in those dirty, stinking tights?'

'Yes... that's right... the man in those dirty... stinking tights... was me. It was me in the dirty tights. I do know you... I'm so sorry... forgive me. Don't tell Webster about what happened... don’t tell him what I asked for... please!'

'Oh gee,' said Lorelei. 'But you stand for truth, doncha Supey. And I think some truth is what's needed. Just like when I knew what you needed was for me to do... this!'

With her free hand she stabbed at the clasp of his belt, and it fell open. And as Superman stood in the dwindling green rays, shaking and whimpering like a fool, she let go of his cock and yanked his briefs down firmly. They cascaded down his trembling legs, bunching around his ankles and then she shoved him out of them, leaving him helpless, hard and horny in his tights and tunic.

Lorelei held the briefs aloft. 'Look,' she said, laughing at the darkened crotch where the Man of Steel's precum had soiled them, 'you wet your panties, Superman!'

Moaning in lust, arms flopping by his sides, Superman staggered backwards.

'I'm lost,' he gasped, 'help me... My briefs... I... I’ve wet my tights... my p-panties... huh... oh god...! oh no... hnnggh!’

'Yeah,' said Lorelei, twirling his briefs around with one finger, 'I tried to help him that night, didn't I, you naughty Supes? We tried everything. But in the end we had to admit that it wasn't my help he needed. When he'd drunk enough to be honest, Superman blabbed everything... and he got me to call up the bar... the bar where he'd been so naughty, right, Supey? That's how you got your tights and panties so dirty, wasn't it?'

'Oh,' he looked up at her, as the last of his resistance vanished. He took hold of his erection in his tights, and with a groan, he said: 'Yes. Lorelei's right. That's how my tights and briefs... hnngh... my tights and panties... that's how they got so filthy.'

'Well done, sugar. And can you tell the truth now? Can naughty Superman admit the truth now?'

'Yes,' he breathed, jacking his spandex clad penis, 'naughty Superman can admit the truth now. I asked Lorelei to call the bar... get in touch with the guys from there... and send a cab to get them... so they could finish what they started, in the restroom of that bar with me... oh! I said it! That was what I needed... they knew what to do with me... wh-what to give me... in my s-s-stinking tights and buh-briefs.... my filthy red puh-panties... those guys, they gave me... ooh, they gave me... they gave me haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!'

With a bestial howl, Superman fell to his knees, and began to pump thick, hot spunk into the crotch of his sullied tights, darkening the spandex to a filthy, shadowy blue.

'Lorelei,' he gasped, as she began to walk away with his boots, cape and briefs, 'my clothes.... my uniform... at least leave me... my.... b-briefs!'

'Sorry, honey,' she said with a smirk, exiting the cave, 'I don't know you.'

Happy #ThrobbingThursday…!

SUPERMAN: INTO THE WICKER MAN

Chapter Four: Temptation In His Tights

Using his powers, Clark was able to quickly wash and dry his uniform, heating soapy water in the old bathtub and scrubbing the bright spandex. Soon it was pristine once more, and he pulled on his tights and tunic, proudly noting how they framed his body, and then tucked in his cape. Dressed thus, he lay down on the bed to wait for Tam to return with his briefs, alone now with just his thoughts.

He’d never let anybody else take a part of his uniform away from him before; he could only imagine what Jor El would make of his predicament. Yet it had been necessary to maintain his cover. In fact, now he considered it, he felt rather proud of his quick thinking. After all, it had never occurred to him that he would have to account for why Clark Kent didn’t wear underpants; he had never anticipated a situation in which this fact might come to light.

‘I only hope Tam doesn’t notice the belt loops on my briefs,’ he murmured out loud. ‘What would I tell him if… oh!’

Clark looked down in surprise, to find his cock standing ramrod stiff to attention in his tights!

‘Oh! What in the name of… what’s happening to me? An erection – again? Just like before, when I thought about…’

Once more, Tam’s face came to his mind’s eye, and Superman recalled the lad’s searing gaze, staring at him so deeply, as if he could see his very soul.

‘My briefs… Tam’s got my briefs… and I’m hnngh… hard… Hard in my tights. Want to touch it so badly, and yet I m-mustn’t…’

The air in the room seemed hot and heavy, charged with lust, and as he gazed at his cock, throbbing away in his tights, Superman felt a temptation more desperate than he had ever known. His hand ached to clutch it, to do what he had never allowed himself to do. All his Kryptonian training, passed down to him to deal with such a situation, no longer seemed to matter or feel important.

‘Oh… I… I want to… could I? Would it… would it be so bad?’

He was trying so hard to fight it, yet as he watched a small damp spot appear on the blue spandex that bound his splendid erection, Superman could stand it no longer. This strange place, this somewhat eerie room in an Inn in the middle of nowhere… none of it made sense, and suddenly all he knew was that he, Clark, Superman, the Man of Steel, was alone and he wanted release – the release he had always denied himself. In a heartbeat, one trembling hand reached for his penis and he let out a moan as he touched it, gripping his spandex-clad shaft.

‘Huhhhhhhhhh! Hah! Hah!’

Just then, a knock at the door made him sit bolt upright in bed, and he released his cock as if it were a scalding hot coal.

‘It’s me, Clark.’ Tam’s voice came from outside the door as he knocked.

To Superman’s horror, he saw the latch rise and the door begin to open. In another moment Tam would enter the room; the lad would see not Clark Kent, but Superman, stretched out on the bed with a raging erection, and caught just as he had been about to do something about it!

Never had he brought his Super-speed to bear with such precision. In the blink of an eye, he shot across the room, put on his glasses, threw on the bathrobe, and closed the door to the bathroom, where he had left his red boots.

Such was his haste that it was as though a gust of wind had struck Tam in the face. The lad pushed the door open and stood blinking in surprise.

‘Aye… certainly some strange winds around today,’ he said softly.

‘Uh, yes,’ said Clark, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘I guess it is a little drafty in here.’

His cock was still hugely erect, and he had to hunch over slightly, so that this was not obvious beneath the dressing gown.

Tam looked thoughtfully at him. ‘Dinnae worry, Clark. I’ll make sure you’re nice and warm.’

‘Oh,’ said Clark, his voice shaking slightly as he looked at the boy. ‘You s-sure do think of everything, Tam.’

‘Aye. Aye, I do.’ Tam’s gaze slowly went to Clark’s feet. ‘Oh. Those are nice socks, Clark.’

Superman looked down and cursed himself inwardly. In his arousal and haste, he had forgotten that his tights were still visible below the dressing gown! How could he have been so foolish? Now Tam was staring, though he did not know it, at the tights-clad feet of Superman. Another intimate part of his persona was being exposed to a complete stranger, totally beyond his control. And to his horror, dimly he realised this was adding to his excitement; his erection was twitching in response to his predicament.

‘Oh!’ he breathed. ‘Uh. Yes. Thank you Yes,. I… I… I… like blue… blue socks.’

Tam laughed softly. ‘But the socks you gave me to wash were black, Clark!’

‘Yes. Uh. Yes, they were.’

Tam shook his head. ‘You’re a funny wee man, aren’t you, Clark?’

‘Oh.’ Clark swallowed. Again, the air between them seemed charged and potent. ‘Yes, Tam. Yes… I guess I am… a funny wee man.’

No, he thought to himself. I’m not a “funny wee man” – I’m Superman. If only I could tell you. Part of me wants… oh! Part of me wants to let this robe drop right now and let you see me as I am… hard in my tights… oh! The world’s most powerful man is here in your Inn, in this remote place, and I’m hard in my tights! What would Tam say? How would he see me? But… but that would be… unthinkable! It would be terrible, awful, demeaning… wouldn’t it?

‘You okay there, Clark?’ asked Tam, softly. ‘You’re looking at me very intently there, fella. Everything all right?’

With a supreme effort, Clark mastered himself and came to his senses.

‘Uh… yes. Yes, Tam, thank you. I’ve just been wondering about how to begin my investigation. These missing lads.’

‘Great stuff,’ said Tam. ‘Well, everyone here on the island will be very grateful. You coming all this way to Summerisle to help a tiny wee community like ours. It’s uncommon kind of ye, Clark. There’s a few downstairs who are very eager to meet you.’

‘There are?’

‘Aye. So, on that note, let’s give you back your panties.’

‘My panties?’ said Clark in disbelief.

‘Sorry, big fella – I mean your briefs.’

To his relief, Clark saw that atop the pile of linen Tam was carrying were his red briefs. It would be so good to get them back again.

‘Gosh, thanks, Tam,’ he said. ‘That’s awesome of you. If you just wait while I get my wallet…’

‘Ach,’ said Tam, ‘don’t fuss, no need tae worry about that now. We can work something out later.’

‘But I insist,’ said Clark, ‘you’ve washed my clothes!’

‘Well, some of them,’ said Tam. ‘Your suit is still in the machine. But at least we’ve got your pants back – your briefs – so you can put your spare suit on and come down to dinner. And I thought it was a bit strange that you only brought the one pair of briefs with you…’ He looked up, and once again Clark felt that strange excitement as the lad’s dark eyes stared straight at his own. ‘…so I’ve brought you a couple of pairs of my own underpants.’

‘Whuh-what?’

Superman felt his penis twitch once again beneath the bathrobe; he could hardly believe what he was hearing. This stripling…this adonis – for he had begun to realise just how handsome Tam was – was offering him pairs of his own underwear to put on!

‘We can’t have you just with one pair of panties, now, can we, Clark?’

Why is he calling them “panties”, thought Superman, yet he did not speak.

Tam studied him, a slow, searching look as he moved closer.

‘So here, Clark… I’ve brought you some of my own. My own underpants.’

‘Your underpants, Tam,’ echoed Clark dumbly. ‘Me wearing… your… your underpants? I… ooh… I c-couldn’t p-possibly…’

‘Yes, you can, Clark,’ said Tam firmly. ‘I don’t know what folk do in Metropolis, but I can’t have you making one pair of panties last here. What will you do when they need washing?’

‘Well… I…’ said Clark. For the umpteenth time since arriving at this strange island, he felt his cheeks colouring. ‘I d-don’t know, Tam,’ he said at last.

‘Exactly. So say no more. Here are two pairs of my pants for you. Two clean pairs of briefs.’ Tam held them out to him. One of the garments was a pair of paisley y-fronted briefs, with a bright green trim. ‘These are a bit retro, I guess,’ said Tam with a smile. ‘But I think they’ll be just right for you – that colour suits you.’

‘Whuh-what,’ breathed Clark. ‘Why, I…’

And there he was, back once again in Luthor’s lair, as his nemesis slipped the Kryptonite chain over his head.

Luthor… when he gave me my necklace… I mean when he chained me, dammit…

‘It suits you, Superman,’ Lex had said, as the hero meekly inclined his head and allowed his foe to place the chain upon him, ‘the colour looks just perfect on you, Supe baby!’

He blinked, and saw Tam gazing at him.

‘And look,’ said the lad, ‘you’ll like this other pair: blue briefs – your favourite colour, Clark!’

And indeed, the boy was proffering a pair of smooth royal blue briefs with a navy trim.

‘Gee,’ said Clark, ‘I… I really don’t know what to say, Tam. This is too kind of you.’

His hand trembling slightly, Clark reached out and accepted the underpants. For a split second his fingertips brushed against Tam’s own, and it took all his self control not to make a sound, so intoxicating was that touch.

‘Do you like them,’ asked Tam, ‘are they all right, Clark?’

‘Yes, said Clark, hoarsely. ‘They’re v-very… um… very nice. Th-thank you.’

‘No problem, pal,’ said Tam. ‘Say… is everything okay, Clark – you’re hunched over a wee bit in your gown there?’

‘Uh… just the draft,’ said Clark, unconvincingly.

‘Aye… aye,’ nodded Tam. ‘Well, we’ll get some food and drink down ye; that’ll soon warm ye up. Here – ’

Tam tossed the red briefs at him. Wide-eyed, Clark just managed to catch them whilst holding the two pairs of Tam’s own underpants and clutching the bathrobe around himself.

‘Get your panties on and get dressed in your suit, and I’ll show you down to dinner.’

‘Gosh,’ said Clark, ‘thanks, Tam. You really are…’

‘Yup,’ said Tam with a grin, ‘I really am. C’mon now – get your pants on and let’s go eat.’

Clark stared at him. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that is… I uh…’

Tam shook his head. ‘Fine. I’ll wait outside the door. I don’t know what you’re worried about though Clark.’ He held his gaze once more. ‘In the few hours since we met I’ve watched you piss yourself and I’ve washed your dirty panties for you. I don’t know what surprise you think you’ve got for me under there, big fella.’

The lad’s eyes fell to his waist, staring directly at where Superman’s cock was hard in his tights beneath the bathrobe, straining desperately.

If only he knew just what a surprise I have under here…

‘Uh… thanks, Tam,’ gasped Clark. He now needed this boy to be out of the room so he could clear his head. ‘But if you wouldn’t mind.’

‘Sure thing,’ said Tam, and went to leave. ‘I’ll be right outside the door.’

But before he could go, Clark looked down at his red briefs. And what he saw filled him with horror.

‘T-tam?’ he said. ‘I’m… I’m sorry… b-but these… these aren’t mine.’

The garment he held was indeed a pair of bright red briefs. But there was a designer label in the back – “Calvin Klein” – and most crucially, there were no belt loops. What he had been given was nothing more or less than an ordinary pair of red underpants.

‘What d’ye mean man,’ frowned Tam. ‘Of course they’re yours, Clark. Those are your panties, freshly washed and dried. See?’

‘No!’ cried Clark. ‘Gosh… gee… but you see… these aren’t my panties! I mean my briefs! These aren’t mine?’

‘Why?’ asked Tam. ‘What is it that makes you think they’re not yours, Clark? Is there something special about yours or something?’

And there it was: he was trapped. For how could he tell Tam that he knew very well these were not his briefs, as he was Superman, and the loops for his world famous yellow belt were absent?

Clark stood trying to think of a way out, but no solution presented itself.

‘Well?’ asked Tam. ‘What could possibly make you think these aren’t your panties? Plain red briefs, that’s what you gave me, right? Or am I wrong?’ He looked wryly amused. ‘Was there something special about your panties, Clark?’

Superman had no choice. Wide-eyed and a little fearful, he shook his head.

‘No Tam. You’re not wrong. It… it’s me. I… I was wrong. N-nothing special about my panties… uh…my briefs. Nothing at all. Just… just plain red briefs. I was mistaken. These… these are mine. Of… of course they are.’

‘You funny wee man,’ laughed Tam. ‘You’re a real character, Clark! I’ll leave you to it. Get those panties on now, and let’s get you some food.’

‘Y-yes,’ said Superman, numb with shock and astonishment. ‘I’ll… I’ll get my panties on.’

As the door closed, the enormity of what had happened washed over him. He took off the bathrobe and let it fall to the ground around his ankles. Placing Tam’s two pairs of underwear on the bed, Superman crossed the room and opened the bathroom door, where he stood and gazed at his reflection.

‘I’ve… I’ve handed over my briefs,’ he said out loud, ‘I’ve lost a sacred part of my uniform and in return all I have to wear… is a pair of red underpants.’

He thought of the word that Tam kept using, and unbidden, he found himself saying:

‘Panties. That’s what these are. I’ve lost my briefs… I gave them away willingly… and the only option I have left now is to wear panties over my tights. I, Superman, am going to have to put on a pair of red panties. How… how could I have let this happen?’

Yet more than all of this was another terrible, shaming truth. For as Superman continued to gaze at his reflection, holding the designer underwear for which he had traded his briefs, within his tights his cock remained stiff as a board and tingling with excitement. And the small moist point where he’d wet his tights with pre-cum was now a large patch of darkened blue, with foaming white specks upon its surface.

‘Ooh,’ murmured the Man of Steel. ‘Hnngh. What have I done?’

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!

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