The Telemachus Story Archive

The Seven BDSM Nights of Superman
Chapter 9 - Epilogue: Peripeteia (part 1)
By Henry Dee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Superman! At last..."

Superman was puzzled by the reaction.

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

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

"Right. You have some explaining to do."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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