Time At Last To Go Back To That Small Scottish Island, Where Superman Has Been Lured, Only To End Up

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!

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.”

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!