From the Diary of Clark Kent:
The end of another busy week for Superman here in grubby, vice-ridden Metropolis; much the same as most weeks of the past six months since that "aberration" with Lucas Luthor ended. I still remember vividly the look of shock and fear on his face when he realised the gig was up. If he had been as clever as he thought he was, he might have realised that the constant exposure to those miniscule amounts of kryptonite would de-sensitise my physiology and build resistance. I was prisoner to the kryptonite and drug concoction for many months, but gradually I felt its effect waning.
What a rush of liberation I felt when I understood what was happening, how I no longer felt overwhelmed by the drug and could once again exercise free will!
"Power down, bitch!" he had commanded, just as he had so many times in the months before. But he hadn't heard "NO" in response before! His face went white and he stopped breathing momentarily.
"POWER DOWN!" he shouted, but I just laughed, almost hysterically, when I realised I was free of his perverse control. It was such a great pleasure then to take him and his uncle by the scruffs of their necks and secure them both once more in the high security where they belonged. And of course to follow up with the apprehension of the many (oh so many!) criminals and corrupt officials who I had been made to degrade myself for during those nightmare days.
Did I feel tempted to exact revenge? To put them through the same treatment I had endured? Enslaved, debauched, humiliated almost beyond imagination... Very much.
But that's not the way of Superman.
Of course the great irony is that ultimately I owe the Luthors so much! The gift that they gave me, first Lex and then his nephew, in the realisation that my power and invulnerability were subject to my own voluntary control. What a change that has brought to my life now, and what deep satisfaction I now derive from it. That makes Luthor's downfall a double defeat; I must make sure I tell him about it!
So now, when the week is done, I reward myself with a visit to the Crimson Cobra Club. I have become quite a hit there, the anonymous man who bears such a striking resemblance to Superman (haha!); who has even been known to dress as the Man of Steel! And who submits so enthusiastically to the bondage and discipline play of the many dominants who frequent the club.
When I make my late night visits to the club, I quietly concentrate on powering down before I enter, so that when playtime starts the ropes genuinely secure me, and the whips and wax truly sting. The dildos and dicks which penetrate my willing ass do so with ease; my super strength and vulnerability are on hold, in abeyance, and I can participate as a bona fide submissive and slave.
My sighs and groans are real as I immerse myself in the fine line between pleasure and pain to which Lex Luthor introduced me and which I have discovered to be my great pleasure and diversion from the constant demands and pressures of being Superman.
Surrendering myself to the use of those other men, and feeling the appreciative (if not tender) attentions of their bodies and devices gives me far greater sense of belonging, of being desired and wanted, than any of the plaudits and awards of the nations and people of the world. As a favourite submissive in a BDSM club I feel complete personal connection to those who are giving me their full focus!
And I know they fully and sincerely enjoy paying me their attentions.
I know that they admire my willingness to allow the bondage, the spanking, the rough fucking, the humiliating role play, the verbal denigration. I soak it all up, going further and further into the ecstasy of my headspace, a state I would never have discovered if not for my dear friend Lex!
How I look forward to the end of the week, and my reward for being the great and virtuous Superman for the previous seven days. What will it be tonight I wonder? We'll almost certainly start with some forced stripping and spanking and then move on to a sling fuck. I'm hoping after that for some inverted forced milking, or maybe some doggy role play. But whatever comes, I know I will enjoy it.
And then I will dress and move back into the night, refreshed and revived. I will disappear into the darkness of the alley, where I will pause momentarily, assert my will, and once more be Superman.
That's all for now, dear Diary. I'll let you know how the evening goes when I return to confide in you once more. And I know you'll keep our little secret, my most trusted friend.