Part 4

Superman raised his head and looked up at his glorious Mistress. His eyes looked sullen, defeated, yet carried a new desire. He had deliberated long and hard about the nod. He had come to the conclusion that he was truly trapped and that there was nothing he could do to get out of it. He was unable to help the people of the world anymore and if Christina was to plot some savage attack to conquer the world then surely it was best to give her exactly what she wanted. But in spite of this logical conclusion, Superman had also been driven by something new to him – a lust to serve. It was only small, but it was present and he was almost ashamed to admit it. There was a sexual element now, which appealed to him, and it showed up the hidden, unconscious needs in Superman. This great moral Superhero actually festered deep and dirty sexual fantasies. His sex life with Lois had been great, but he had always been in charge. It would have been pointless if Lois had tied him up – he would have broken free. Their fantasies and role-play had therefore been a bit one-dimensional. In spite of being a Superhero, he was also an independent, male individual, and every man has desires that need quenching no matter how they come about. The world might need saving, but Superman also needed sexual satisfaction, and he had faced up to the shocking conclusion that as well as it being better for the world to do what Mistress Aguilera wanted, it was also possibly true that sex with Christina could be better than he had ever experienced. In his bondage lied his sexual freedom. Kryptonite had allowed him to become submissive. His greatest fear had led to his greatest desire.
Christina swung her leg gently, offering her long boot to him.
“You may approach me Superman.”
Superman was still on his knees with his hands cruelly cuffed behind his back. He shuffled on his knees towards his captor, the Kryptonite collar still glowing hotter than ever, and the Kryptonite cock ring stemming the weakness that had flooded his body and allowing his cock to be rock hard with sexual urgency and desire. He kneeled before Christina with his head bowed again. She leant forward and reached round his back, unlocking his cold, shiny handcuffs and tossing them onto the floor, the rattle of the chain reverberating around the dungeon. She sat back.
“Worship me slave,” she uttered, in a cold, dispassionate voice. “Show me your allegiance.”
Superman’s head lowered, as he stooped over towards her shiny PVC boot. He could almost see his face reflecting in it, his expression one of complete submissiveness. His cheek nuzzled against the side of her boot, his hands held against her leg to steady it and his tongue began to gently lick over the top of it, along the seam that divided her tanned golden leg from her boot. The tip of his tongue swept over it, pushing against the smooth and cold material as he sunk lower and lower, his tongue gliding slowly towards her ankle. He placed short, loving kisses over the PVC and poked his tongue against it, cleaning and worshipping the footwear of his glorious dominatrix Christina Aguilera.
“Harder slave,” she ordered. “I want to feel your tongue through the PVC.”
Superman obeyed, which was all he could do. His tongue pressed harder and as his eyes closed as he slipped into a submissive consciousness, with all his thoughts diverted to one aim – the complete pleasure of his Mistress. He lapped at her ankle, and moved down to the sole, taking the pointy heel in his mouth and sucking on it passionately. His tongue and lips were like slaves to her feet and they lavished dedication and praise upon her soles as he edged ever closer to her toes. He kisses the pointed toe of his Mistresses boot passionately. And then, with one final gentle kiss, his hands lowered away from her boot and returned behind his back, clasping together. He gave Christina one last solemn look and bowed his head again.
Christina smiled to herself. All in all, things were going extremely well. Superman had been brought to heel, her feet had been worshipped in the most delightful manner – far more than she expected. All she was lacking was the words of allegiance she craved from the fallen hero.
“You have worshipped your Queen well Superman. Are you pleased with yourself?”
Superman looked up and nodded. Christina leaned forward sharply and slapped Superman viciously around the face.
“Never show pride in my presence again slave. How dare you be pleased with yourself! You have only just begun your service! How dare you be pleased with yourself! You shall never be pleased, even when I declare myself satisfied you will always be striving to please me further!”
Superman’s cheek burned with shame and he bit his lip.
“Now, Superman, I shall try again. Are you pleased with yourself?”
Superman, still bowed, shook his head.
“Look at me when you answer!”
Superman looked up and shook his head again.
“I can’t hear you Superman.”
Superman took a deep breath. “No Mistress, I am not pleased with my efforts at all.”
Christina maintained her position, leaning forward and showing Superman her ample cleavage. A smile suddenly played across her lips.
“You know what Superman? When I first met you, I knew you had the heart of a sexual deviant. I knew you had the soul of a sexual submissive. I fantasised about the things I wanted to do to you day and night. All the scenarios, fantasies and role-plays I wanted us to act out. And then you went off with Lois. Not only did you deny me my pleasure, you denied yourself. You repressed it. But now we can do it can’t we baby?”
She smiled and playfully ran her fingers through his hair. Her long fingers grabbed a clump of his hair and pulled it sharply backwards, so that his face was tightly pulled up to meet hers. A grimace fought with lust to express itself on his face.
“We can do whatever we want Superman. Well, I should say that I can at least. I’m in control now Superman. Want to know a secret?”
“Yes please Mistress.”
“When I first saw you, I knew exactly what you needed. A little cock and ball torture and a lot of bondage.”
Superman moaned and felt the stirring in his cock. His body was entirely drained of any superhuman strength now. Kryptonite had sapped every last drop away and yet it was the Kryptonite maintaining the blood flow to his huge penis. Christina held his head in this manner and turned to the side of her throne. She picked up a length of glittering, tightly looped chain, which had a small leather strap at the end. She pulled his head forward so it was bowed again and clipped the chain onto his Kryptonite collar, so that it formed the most vindictive looking leash. Christina stood, towering over her Kryptonite tortured slave. Superman was now Christina’s dog on a leash. Without order, he fell almost naturally onto his all fours, crawling to one side as to allow Christina room to lead him to his bondage.
“Bondage Superman. It’s such a wonderful thing isn’t it? Such a gloriously sexual and sensual state. I want you to feel every inch of your ever-tightening bondage Superman. Your bondage is alive, it grows as you resist.”
Superman felt hypnotised by her words, and followed on his hands and knees, his head bowed, being blindly led to his fate by Christina. He allowed himself a brief look at her legs, his eyes wandering to her tight ass, which teased him with its sway. His sight was quickly diverted again though as he saw where she was taking him – to the Bondage Cross. The rack he’d rescued the police chief from. It was Superman’s worst fear made manifest. He moaned softly and tried to struggle against the leash. Christina laughed and dragged him harder.
“Don’t struggle Superman – we all have our cross to bear! Yours is just feet away.”
She led him to the base of the ‘X’ shaped cross. It was an impressive piece of equipment. Made of the finest, most solid wood, with chains hanging down and leather straps for the wrists.
“Take a good look at it Superman,” said Christina. “See it, feel it, draw it into your consciousness. Worship it.”
She took Superman’s hand and helped him to his feet. Superman could not stand properly. The effects of his glowing Kryptonite collar rendered him a man who was doubled over when he tried to stand erect. She put an almost loving armed around him and turned his back to the cross. The cross was tilted, at about 20 degrees. Christina had anticipated the effects of the weakening Kryptonite rock and ensured that Superman would not go limp in his bonds. She might have wanted to torture him by making him stand upright, but his posture would have meant limited room for assault. This was, with him leaning back, his entire body could be taut and splayed out before her. She kicked his feet apart and moved him so that the backs of his heels pressed against the wooden bondage rack.
“Please… what are you going to do to me?”
“Wait and see Superman. It’s a surprise.”
“But what are you going to do… please?”
Christina’s patience slipped and she grabbed his cheeks with one hand, squeezing his mouth together.
“Whatever I want,” she hissed, spitting on her slave in the process.
Superman’s ankles were carefully and tightly bound to the bottom corners of the rack. Christina pulled the chains tight and made sure that the straps cut into his ankles. She then raised his hands and held them against the top corners, drawing the restraints down and tying Superman’s hands tightly to the rack. She took a step back and admired his predicament.
Superman looked back at her, wriggling in his straps and tugging at them with futile pulls. He was tilted back and felt fear in amongst his obvious arousal. His cock was fully erect, and he was consumed by sexual desire and urgency. He wanted Christina. He wanted to go this place. He wanted to be dominated. He wanted to be vulnerable.
Christina stood next to him, and rested one hand on his left hand, her fingers teasing his bound wrist. With her other hand, the backs of her fingertips ran down his cheek, over his chest and down his torso, all the way to his hard cock and leaving a trail of goose bumps. Superman wriggled slowly, feeling her touch electrify and arouse him. Her hand stroked his thick cock, and drew his foreskin ever so slightly back. She leant into him, her lips just inches from his ears and began to whisper.
“How do you feel Superman? I told you it would be good didn’t I? And I’ve got the proof.”
She clasped her fingers around his cock and gave it a few short sharp tugs, enough to stimulate her Super-slave. He felt a rush of ecstasy, almost as if he could cum there and then.
“Look at your surroundings Superman. Admire them. Admire your captor. Feel the place you are in Superman. Feel your bonds. Feel them restrain you, and hold you. Your bondage is like a loving embrace.”
Superman closed his eyes and moaned gently. His sexual appetite was gradually whitening out his previous fear and anger at being trapped in this way. He had fallen and all probability was finished. But this sure was going to be a hell of a way to go.
He opened his eyes, and for the noticed what he’d noticed when he’d first entered the dungeon. The amount of mirrors in the chamber was frightening, and all because the sadistic Aguilera wanted her poor victim to see exactly what was being done to him. There was a mirror facing him, and the sight of him bound to the vicious rack, splayed out and spread-eagled sickened him. Exposed and vulnerable to Aguilera’s attack, he winced and moaned as he tried to look away, but Christina grabbed his face and made him watch, with a smile on her lips.
She continued to stroke his rock hard cock, and Superman felt gentle moments of pleasure, like water lapping at the beach. He closed his eyes, a half smile forming on his lips as her soft and subtle finger manipulated his shaft. Then, without word of warning, she stopped, and slipped his cock ring off sharply. The weakening effects of the Kryptonite collar returned to his cock, and made it go limp and flaccid, almost immediately. He could now feel no pleasure through it at all, and realised it was being prepared for pain.
Christina’s chain mail bra rattled softly as she stood up and walked towards the wall. She extended her arm and from a beautiful crafted black iron ornament, she pulled down a thick burning candle. She looked at him through the flame, their eyes meeting as Superman winced and turned his head away, burying his face against his shoulder and then looking back at his tormentor.
She stood next to him, and tilted the candle, ever so slowly, so that the wax only dripped onto his bare skin at first, before Christina Aguilera tipped it fully and emptied the molten hot contents of candle wax over Superman’s naked and vulnerable chest. She was unsparing in her torture, keeping the candle tipped so that the flame burnt deeper into the stick and the stream of boiling hot dripping wax was constant. It fell against his skin and great splashes and Christina made sure that no inch of his muscular chest was uncovered. The pain was unbearable for Superman, and he groaned and cried in agony, the Kryptonite making him feel the pain to his very core, as he skin burnt and stung, and then the fine hairs on his chest being pulled as the wax cooled and hardened.
Christina returned the candle to it’s holder and then picked up another, this time walking to the front of Superman and she knelt down in front of him as he lay bound on the cross.
“Please, Christina… agh, I’ll do anything… please.”
“That’s right Superman, start to beg.” Christina replied.
Superman winced and moaned and writhed in his restraints.
“But you’ll have to do better than that. I want your oath Superman, and you have a long way to go yet.”
She cupped his balls and gave them a squeeze, before pinching his foreskin and pulling it forward, stretching his soft cock out in front of her. Christina placed a gentle kiss on it, and then tipped the candle over it, so that the beads of wax streamed down over his sensitive cock.
Superman yelled in the most horrific manner, creating an echo throughout the dungeon. Christina laughed and poured on more wax, letting his cock go and tossing the candle wax over him so that it splashed indiscriminately over his genitals. He pulled and thrashed helplessly at his straps, biting his lip to muffle his screams but the pain overwhelming him. It went to his very soul and he was helpless to resist.
Christina threw the empty burnt out candle to one side. She withdrew to another side of the room, where she opened a glass case and put her hand in, as though picking something from a lucky dip. Superman watched in expectation, his eyes betraying him as they asked for mercy and asked for more contact with his Mistress at the same time. She pulled out a variety of clamps, all with small lengths of chain hanging from them.
“Aguilera… you’ve enslaved me, punished me and I’m completely subservient. Please, you’ve had your fun. Let me go?”
Christina laughed madly and walked quickly towards him. There was a more businesslike approach to her domineering now. She was beyond any last traces of compassion. She attached two clamps to his nipples, the steel biting into the burnt flesh which was already red raw. She snapped the clamp over his right nipple, then his left and gave each a sharp tug on the chains that hung down. Then, she pulled another clamp from behind her back. It had a ring around it, which fitted snugly over the tip of his penis. This ring had a screw mechanism so that it could be tightened, which Christina tightened accordingly. Then, a small clamp, which she attached to the very tip of his foreskin. The chain hung down from this. Superman watched on, perplexed and in excruciating torment.
“You crazy sadist Aguilera… what on earth…?”
“Silence!”
As she boomed this word to him, she pulled out a wooden clothes peg and leant in towards him, her face just inches from his.
“I prefer a blend of crude and sophisticated,” she smiled. “In amongst all of these elaborately constructed instruments of bondage and torture, I have this – one wooden clothes peg. But in fact, this piece of wood is perhaps the cruellest thing of all. Because it means you won’t be able to beg me to stop.”
Superman’s heart practically stopped as she moved the peg towards him, and clipped it over his lips, clamping his mouth shut.
She returned to her glass case, and pulled out a handful of lead discs. They were weights.
One-kilogram weights.
One by one, these were clipped to the chains hanging from his nipples. His nipples were pulled tightly, hanging downwards and stretching his already tortured skin. Superman’s screams were muffled by his lips being tightly shut by the peg.
She hand two weights left in her hand, which she looked at, moving her eyes slowly to his cock before looking at Superman dead in the eyes.
“Your cock is about to feel an immense pain Super Slut,” Christina said with relish. “Even if I were to put the Kryptonite cock ring back on you, the one thing that allowed you pleasure, your cock would undoubtedly swell, because deep down, even though you don’t know, this torment is all you’ve ever wanted. But if I let your cock swell and get hard, the clamp will strangle it. Of course, I’m not going to be that cruel.”
Instead, Christina knelt, clipping the first weight onto the chain, and then the second. Superman’s cock stretched down, the weights making it look horrifically tormented and splayed out. It was stretched by a good three inches and the skin felt as if it was tearing.
Superman’s eyes filled with tears as the pain became unbearable. Every muscle, sinew and nerve cell was flexed and experiencing a previously unknown pain. The peg bit into his lips, but began to slip as his face turned red and his breathing became laboured. His heart was race, each breath panting through his nostrils until suddenly the peg snapped off of his mouth, flying forward. Christina stepped back and as the peg hit the floor in front of her, Superman’s primal shout blasted out in a tumultuous howl of primal torment and desire. And all the while, he saw himself wail in the mirror, a spectators and participant in his own torture.

Part 3

The torture chamber was magnificent. It was built into a stunning Gothic character hall, almost like a castle banqueting room. Huge stone pillars rose to the ceiling and wooden beams jutted out to make the vast chamber seem more claustrophobic. Fires seemed to burn everywhere the eye could see. Aside from the roaring fireplace at the side of the room, where Superman’s clothes had just gone up in smoke, torches were held onto the walls by intricate black iron cages. Where there were no torches, there were candles. The room was both romantic and intimidating. It was a seductive hell – sexual, yet violent. It was harsh and tormenting to the eyes.
Filling this stone and iron expanse were modern features. It was a fully equipped sexual torture dungeon. Everywhere Superman looked were devices of erotic torment. There were manacles hanging from the ceiling and the walls. Chains wrapped around pillars. There was a huge wrought iron bed. There were canes and whips hanging from the walls and another rack with more whips on it at the opposite end. There was a crucifixion cross with leather straps. There was a cage. He saw a glass case with a dazzling array of clamps, cock rings and vibrators. There was a trough running through part of the floor, which had straps in it that would wrap around one’s body. At the end of this trough was a box with a cushioned hole in the top of it – it was a toilet, perfect for delivering golden showers. Then he saw a plush velvet covered bed, with no headboard. Then a throne caught his eye, with a crown resting on the seat.
Another wicked looking bed, although this was in actual fact a wooden block with huge wooden rollers at each end. Attached to these rollers were chains that would go around the victim’s wrists and ankles and at the side of these rollers was a wheel. Only an evil genius like Christina Aguilera could have conceived such an awesome stretching device. Numerous lead ottomans and chests littered the chamber, which Superman’s vision could not have penetrated even if he wasn’t being choked with the Kryptonite. A dressing table with a large mirror stood next to a huge wardrobe. On the dressing table were a frightening collection of blindfolds, gags, ball gags and a roll of duct tape. The wardrobe contained a priceless proliferation of Christina’s outfits and costumes.
As his eyes scanned the room, the list of things seemed to be endless. Every bed had a mirror above it, so that the victim had full view of his torture. Feather boas and feather dusters, seemingly playful and harmless implements, hung amongst even more handcuffs and restraints. An arm sheaf was tossed casually onto the floor next to a battery that was hooked up to the mains. The leads coming out of this battery were attached to a pair of nipple clamps. If sexual torture and sadomasochism had ever been looking for a home then it had found its place here. Then Superman saw something that sent him spinning into a flashback – a large bondage rack, (an ‘X’ shape), with straps at each corner. In front of this there was a full-length mirror. This was a common feature of the chamber. Mirrors were placed in the most sadistically strategic of places – above beds and in front of racks.
Christina wanted her poor bastard of a victim to see exactly what was being done to him and exactly what was still in store. Superman had been called to this chamber once before, to rescue the chief of the Metropolis police. Christina had captured him and had strapped him naked to the rack. Naturally turned on by being tied up in this way by Christina Aguilera, the chief got a massive hard on, even though he knew full well the extent of Christina’s evil. A length of chain tied had been tied around his hard cock, with about five inches left to dangle down beneath it. Then, in full view of the mirror, Christina had knelt down and held a flaming lighter over the chain, so that it gradually heated the chain to boiling point. The chief of police had writhed in agony and was about to give Christina the information she was trying to torture out of him. That was until Superman arrived and beat her aside, saving the chief in the process. It enraged her, making her even more determined to carry out the revenge she was now enacting.
Superman had whisked the chief away from the chamber as fast as he could, without a chance to examine this evil place. Nor had he cared to look. What he’d heard, he had heard by rumour alone. Now, in his Kryptonite captivity, he was looking around the chamber with a stunned and hopeless expression. He was locked in mortal bondage and the room sunk into his consciousness stirring anxiety and panic into the superhero. Just the look of the room made his blood run cold. But there was nothing he could do. He was to be subjugated to all manner of things.
Christina of course enjoyed his surveying of her fiendish parlour. That she loved to make her prey and victims watch in mirrors at the dominance she possessed was perfectly reflected by Superman’s taking in of his surroundings. In the same way the police chief had watch a red hot chain slowly work it’s way up to his cock and balls, she now enjoyed watching Superman study his prison and the obvious torture and submissiveness it created in him. She gave him time, licking her lips and even pointing things out that he hadn’t yet seen. There was something so mournful about him, as if he knew deep down this was the end. Surely she couldn’t have been right? Surely this wasn’t his destiny?
“You know Superman, I’ve fantasised about this moment for a long time. I’ve dreamt about having you here as my slave, hanging from those manacles. I’ve longed to see you helpless and weakened in front of me. I’ve planned this so meticulously, right from your entrance, to this moment and beyond. The rest of your days are mapped out for you now. You can’t escape, and you’ve never been able to. This is your destiny – no one can resist their fate.”
He hung lifelessly in his chains. “So what do you hope to achieve by this?”
“The possibilities are endless Superman. I have in my captivity the strongest, most gorgeous man on the planet. Imagine how powerful that makes me. I’ve got the world in my hands now. Without you being out there meddling, I can take over and the world will finally see you for what you really are.”
“And what am I?”
“My servant and my slave,” Christina replied. “I’ve wanted you for so long and now I’ve got you. Your rejection of me was life changing. I always get what I want. You could have avoided this if you’d teamed up with me back then instead of choosing Lois Lane. But you didn’t, so this is your fault. You see why you can’t escape? You created all of this. Deep down, you wanted all this.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Deep down Superman, you have the heart of a sexual submissive. It’s the one thing you’ve never been able to do. You’ve never been able to submit. And now you have no choice but to surrender your body and soul to me.”
Superman moaned and stretched in his manacles. His body was aching and he could not support himself, as the Kryptonite sapped everything away from him.
“What use am I to you sexually?” he asked. “There’s no life in me. I’m just a plaything. How can you ever use my cock Christina? That’s why you’ll never win, because using the one thing that brings me down means that you can never have what you want.”
Christina turned away, holding her hands behind her back and strolling up and down the room with an air of regal deliberation. It was naïve of Superman to think that Christina hadn’t planned for this eventuality. She didn’t flinch.
“On the contrary Superman. I can have everything I want. And so can you. Like I said, I have a lot of Kryptonite. More Kryptonite than you dare have nightmares about. And I’ve done a lot of research into it.”
Superman felt as though he couldn’t breath.
“I’ve found that Kryptonite is extremely malleable. It can be shaped and formulated into anything I like – solid, gas or liquid. It can be cut into the most delightful shapes as well,” she said, looking at his collar.
“But the most interesting thing I’ve found from my studies is that Kryptonite can be used to repel Kryptonite. It works in the same way as a magnet. I’m sure you’re aware that two magnets cannot be joined together? They push apart, don’t they Superman?”
Superman looked away. Christina walked over to a small lead box on her dressing table, picked it up and laid it on the floor under Superman. She opened it and revealed a Kryptonite Cock Ring.
“Watch this, Superman.”
Superman’s head looked down at Christina. She knelt down and produced the Kryptonite Cock Ring, standing again and showing it to him with a glint in her eye. Slowly, she took his long shaft and slid the cock ring along it, right to the base of his cock. It was tight, pulsing with the energy of Krypton, glowing green and seemed to tighten again as she took a step back to examine her handiwork.
“Now let’s see if you’re not sexually aroused by the evening’s delights I have planned for you. You should notice that the cock ring works by stemming the flow from the collar. Therefore, although the rest of you will be weakened, your cock will be full of life and return to its former glory. I spared no expense in making sure that your cock worked for me Superman. I know you will be turned on by what I have planned and I want to see you get nice and hard for your Mistress.”
She had thought of everything. By manipulating his cock this way, she could peer into his darkest sexual fantasies, hidden even from Superman. She would unlock his subconscious and have even more power over him.
“Now then Superman, I want you to deliver an oath to me. Who is your Goddess? Who is your Mistress?”
Superman turned his head away, closing his eyes and praying to any power that would listen to free him.
“Lose your pride Superman. You cannot afford it. Who is your Mistress?”
Again, Superman remained silent.
“Oh dear,” said Christina with a wicked grin playing about her luscious lips. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, for your sake I mean. I shall take pleasure out of this whatever happens.”
She walked to the wall which had a black wooden stand fixed to it and a row of pegs above it. The stand held a variety of canes and crops, whilst the pegs had bullwhips and paddles hanging from them. She was sensational. Those ass hugging PVC hot pants swayed, encasing her tight ass that Superman had come so close to fucking earlier on. How he’d wanted to slide his shaft between those pert cheeks. Now she tormented him with the sight of it, whilst his cock was laced with Kryptonite. Her back was so tanned. Her skin was so soft and smooth and the harshness of her outfit seemed to make her seem even more seductive. Only a few inches of her golden thighs were visible, but set between the PVC boots and hot pants they seemed to shout out their sexuality. How good would it be to have those legs wrapped around your head? Or your waist as you fucked her pussy so hard? The PVC was so tight and the crack in her ass was visible through the pants.
“Let’s see how you react to a whipping shall we Superman? Let’s see if your cock stands up to it.”
Her long slender fingers, with black nail varnish, picked up a red riding crop from the stand. She walked back towards him, her gaze never straying from his eyes. She looked so vindictive, so aggressively sensual and dominant. He could only hang there and wait. She walked around him, flexing the crop between her tanned hands and admired his form. She stopped behind him, stroking his ass and running her finger gently between his cheeks. Suddenly, Superman felt a twitch. A stir of life in his cock as her touch on his ass crack brought a little arousal to his cock. His cheeks burned with shame. He was becoming turned on.
She continued to finger his ass, caressing it, as though preparing it.
“”Such golden, pert orbs Superman. You have a gorgeous ass, but I intend to leave it raw and in tatters. I know that collar is hurting you, making you sweat and gasp and I know it hurts to think and speak. So, you’d better start thinking of another way of begging for mercy!”
With a sharp swish through the air, Christina aimed a backhand swipe at Superman’s ass. The crop hit his cheeks with startling velocity, cutting through his skin and whipping it brutally, leaving a deep red line across both cheeks. Superman’s body bucked forward, his frame an arch as he swayed in his pitiful manacles. A primal moan escaped from him as the burning pain swept over him, exceeding even that of his Kryptonite collar. He was in hell and if it wasn’t hell then it was even more terrifying. He had never known pain until now, and this exceeded every limit he had ever felt so far. For Superman, he now had an indication of human suffering as never before. This pain didn’t go away – it just changed in intensity. The kiss of the riding crop stung and then burnt, bringing tears to his eyes and a scream to his throat. Then it became a dull ache that was tortured with further lashes of Christina’s mighty whip.
She was lost in the delirium of it all. Her wildest dreams were being realised and she laughed a sadistic cackle, revelling in her domination of him. Her ponytail swished from side to side as she became physically immersed in her torture of Superman. Her soul was flying. She lashed him repeatedly, even drawing blood from one smack. She whipped him over and over again, losing count of the lashes and drawing wild jagged lines in the skin of his ass. Superman writhed, wriggled and struggled helplessly, his legs kicking as he thrashed against the manacles that suspended him so tightly and he tried to resist Christina’s punishment. And yet all the time, thanks to the effect of the Kryptonite cock ring, blood was slowly gathering in his long cock.
She paused for a moment, walking round to the front of him. His head was bowed, as sweat and agony poured from his forehead. She placed the tip of the crop against his chin and pushed his head upright so that it faced straight ahead.
“Ready to swear your allegiance yet Superman?”
“Never,” he gasped.
She tutted, waving a mocking finger at him. Even if he had pledged his allegiance, she was never going to have mercy on him. It was a total surrender and humiliation she desired from him and then she would punish him anyway.
She returned to the stand and took a paddle from the peg. A simple black leather paddle, but deadly to Superman’s current submissiveness. It would hurt him more than it would hurt an average mortal man.
“You’ve got no reserves Superman, but I have. Kryptonite upon Kryptonite, pain upon pain.”
She smacked his right cheek with the paddle repeatedly, bruising it immediately. He was pummelled with quick hard smacks that made the welts swell. Superman again arched his back, trying to stretch away from her and biting his lip. He didn’t want to scream or groan with pain as that would have given her too much satisfaction. But he couldn’t help the guttural gasps of torments and moans that did eventually escape.
She had turned her attention to the left cheek and gave that the same treatment. With one last mighty swipe she aimed for the deepest cut that the crop had left. It drew a scream from Superman that reverberated around the chamber, echoes bouncing off of the mirrors, the ceiling and the walls.
“Did that hurt Superman?”
He didn’t even have the strength to nod.
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” she giggled.
Superman simply hung limp in his manacles.
“If you’re going to make all of that noise slave, I’m going to have to stop your mouth. But then, I think you might actually like that,” she added, sliding her finger along the length of his cock.
Suddenly, a surge of life ran through his cock. It was the touch of her skin, a moment of electricity, teasing his cock. It began to flesh out, growing to an erection.
“Well, what a surprise! Do you see Superman? Now do you see?” she cackled. “I have turned you on?”
She grabbed his cock, her smooth hand and long nails wrapping around it and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“You see Superman, it is your desire. You long to be punished at my hands and cower in subservience at my glorious dominance. It is your desire. It is your destiny. Your deepest, wildest fantasy is the delicious combination of pleasure and pain and now I have the keys to give it to you”
She slowly massaged his cock, holding it tightly and running her fingers up and down, slowly masturbating him and getting him a little more excited.
Superman’s mind caved in. The feeling of her hand slowly getting his hard cock excited drove him crazy. He was still suspended in excruciating bondage, but now he knew what real bondage was about – the loss of control and the giving in to a craving and the longing for relief. She was stimulating him and he was desperate for relief. He let out a small moan and she stopped.
“I told you Superman, I wanted no noise. But you became too consumed in the sexual pleasure. So, back to business.”
She took her hand away and Superman gasped, coming back into the reality of his situation. He suddenly felt the burning and draining energy that the Kryptonite collar had locked upon him. It was as if that moment of sexual contact between him and Christina had been an out of body experience or a sight of things to come. He had no visionary powers left because of the collar. But it was almost as if that when she’d touched his cock, she’d shared her power and coupled her strength with his former power to give him a taste. But for now, he had to brace himself for whatever violent pleasure she had planned for him.
She walked over to the wall, and flicked a switch. Superman’s manacles opened and he fell to the floor like a stone. His limbs and joints were weak and when he tried to raise himself, his flesh turned to jelly and his frame collapsed, his face buried in the floor.
She walked over to him, stopping on the way to pick something up. It was a rattle of chains. Just as he was about to raise his head to see what it was she stopped in front of him and placing the sole of her boot on his head, pushed him back down.
“Face back in the dirt Super-Slave.”
She towered over him, clad in the outfit of a true Dominatrix. She stood with an imperious look on her face, her chain mail bra heaving her ample cleavage high. Her long leg holding Superman down. It was a picture of immense feminine power. Christina’s PVC boot held a prostate Superman against the floor, as she stood with her hands on her hips – a pair of handcuffs dangling by her side.
“You will raise your face to me only when I say so. Is that understood?”
Superman did not answer.
Christina sighed an impatient, yet strangely sympathetic sigh.
“If I cannot get the noises out of you that I want and deserve Superman, then you shall make no noise whatsoever.”
She bent down, and grabbed a thick clump of his hair, pulling him to his knees. His eyes winced at the pain caused by the hair pulling. She showed no mercy at all. She stood before him, dangling the handcuffs in front of his eyes and with the other hand she stroked his glowing collar.
“It’s not really fair is it Superman? It’s not fair that my girls got to tie you up and I didn’t. So now it’s my turn.”
She moved behind him and handcuffed his wrists behind his back, leaving him kneeling and bound. She moved back to the dressing table and picked up the most horrific looking implement.
It looked a little like a cage. It fitted over a human head perfectly, and around the mouthpiece was a rubber ball that had been manually attached. She walked towards him, holding it in both hands stretched out.
“You’ve made the right choice Superman. You could not have lasted forever in denial.”
Superman’s nod had condemned him. He had given her the answer that she wanted. It was a symbolic break – he had given it to her, she had not taken it. And he had given Christina a licence to enact a terrible and gruelling revenge upon him, even greater than the punishment he had suffered so far. Superman was in for the long haul.
Christina approached Superman with a key and unlocked the Scold’s Bridle that caged his head and gagged him so tightly. The lock clicked and the cage rattled as she lifted it from his head. This too was symbolic in light of what she was about to do. Taking the Bridle from his head was like removing a crown, a way of seizing his power. He had been de-robed by Britney and Anastacia, and now he had been truly dethroned by Christina. He was no longer a King.
She placed the Bridle on a bench and walked towards a golden chair, with plush purple cushions and a shiny gold crown resting on the corner, studded with a dazzling array of stolen jewels. She sat down on her throne, and took the crown, admiring it and showing it to Superman, before resting it on her head. She looked resplendent. A true Queen. She sat back with her crown, her chain mail bra, and her long black PVC boots, all giving the aura of the most authoritative Dominatrix. She crossed her legs, so that one could see all the way up her full, golden, smooth thigh, and as she crossed her leg her boot came up and offered itself for worship, the tip pointing straight towards the fallen King.

Part 2

As Christina stalked off to her infamous chambers, Superman slumped, groaning and in agony against the wall. His vision blurred and his limbs felt as though they had been taken over by the Kryptonite. He had lost all control of himself, and he was about to have that loss extended to a complete surrender. He fell sideways and crumpled onto the floor staring upwards.
Britney strolled past him and smirked, swinging her hips briefly before standing by the door which Christina had disappeared through. Superman’s eyes followed her, thinking of how much power even a humble guard such as Britney had now. But his eyes had followed the wrong woman.
He felt a spiky kick to his stomach and he rolled onto his back. Anastacia, in all her PVC clad glory, stood over him, and had given him a kick in the guts with her long boots that had spiky heels. Through her trademark dark glasses, she stared down at the fallen Superman with a devilish look that was both stern and mischievous at the same time. She stood with her hands on her hips, her cleavage bursting out of her top.
“How do you feel Superman?” she laughed.
“How do you think I feel? Please, for the good of the world free me… save everyone.”
Anastacia looked at him for a moment and then, as he lay splayed out on his back beneath her, she knelt down and straddled Superman, pushing her PVC clad pussy against him. She stroked his hair, and Superman tossed his head to one side to resist it.
“Surely you’ve heard the rumours Superman? Surely you know all about what’s in her chambers? We will never deny Christina her fun!”
Superman moaned softly and writhed in his Kryptonite collar.
Britney stepped forward, and stopped at the top of Superman’s head, leaning over, dangling her breasts in his face. Superman’s mind was in turmoil. He had been floored by the Kryptonite, and now he was feeling powerful but submissive sexual urges, as the gorgeous blonde Anastacia wriggled on his cock and Britney pressed her bosom into his face.
“Want to know what’s on the menu for you tonight Superman?” Britney asked seductively.
Superman just groaned weakly. Anastacia threw his arms to his side and held them down.
“She’s going to tie you up Superman,” said Anastacia, with vindictive delight.
“Mmm, sounds good doesn’t it Superman?” grinned Britney.
Superman tossed his head from side to side, lost in torture, every cell in his body screeching in torment.
“I think the slave wants to be undressed now, don’t you Britney?” said Anastacia, licking her lips.
Superman’s eyes widened as Britney grabbed a clump of his hair and pulled it, trying to drag him to his feet. His poor weakened body felt so heavy now, especially with his red boots on as well. He stumbled to his feet, and stood with his head bowed as Anastacia put her arms around his neck and slowly started removing his red cape. She threw it to the floor, with a sharp flick of her hand. Britney crept up behind him, and placed her hands on his ass cheeks, moving them around slowly until she was caressing his cock. She snaked her fingers over his bulging pants, sliding them up towards his hips and gently unclipping his yellow belt. She took it off, and laced it across her hands, strolling round in front of him with her heels clicking against the floor. She threw the belt to Anastacia who in turn, threw it on top of the cape.
Then it was Anastacia’s turn to take an item of his clothing off. They were toying with Superman, sadistically enjoying taking away his garments piece by piece, stealing his power and removing every last symbol of his former dominance over them.
“Lift your foot Superman,” she ordered.
Superman could only moan now, the Kryptonite having sapped any energy that could have helped him speak.
“I said, LIFT YOUR FOOT!” Anastacia bellowed at him, giving him a vicious slap across his left cheek, the force of which forced the weakened Superhero to collapse back onto the floor. Superman, with his cheek burning red, felt utterly ashamed. It was also the first time he had ever felt any semblance of pain. The slap stung his cheeks, and his jaw felt bruised.
“So this is how it feels,” he realised.
His humiliation burnt him almost as much as the green shards in his collar. He felt his tears welling up as he saw his intensity of his helplessness matched only the by the glee in his Anastacia’s wicked eyes. She towered over him, glaring aggressively at him.
“One slap and you fall Superman. How the mighty have fallen!” she laughed. Britney stood next to her.
“Perhaps the ‘S’ on his chest should stand for something else Anastacia,” said Britney. “I was thinking ‘Submissive-Man’! What do you think Superman?”
They both laughed and taking one foot each, they began to remove his red boots. All that was left now, was the blue suit and the red pants.
Superman looked up at his tormentors. He now knew what it was like to be helpless, struggling to resist. He could not fight, he could not shout and he could not plead for mercy. No one would come, no one could help him and there was certainly no chance of mercy. His Kryptonite collar embodied the new Superman. He was a weakling and a submissive. Most of all, he was Christina Aguilera’s slave.
The collar when it had been placed on him had felt like a cold chill, sweeping over his body. His frame, once superhuman, had become mortal in an instant. He had never known pain, or physical misery. But his muscles quickly sagged and his strength drained out of him. But most of all, his mentality had changed. He accepted his defeat instantly. He knew he had to submit to Christina – her power over him was complete. The only way he could be of any use to anyone now was by cooperating with his evil Mistress.
Britney and Anastacia snapped him out of his thoughts. They had tossed his boots onto the rest of the pile and had grabbed his ankles. They dragged Superman away from the wall, along the floor to the centre of the room, his head banging against the floor. The two sexy blonde guards stood back and folded their arms. They looked stunning. Britney was clad head to toe in PVC, her cleavage bursting out and her hair wild and sexy. Her PVC catsuit was split down the middle, right to her midriff, which revealed a pierced belly button. Anastacia was dressed likewise, but her expression was more smouldering and sinister, hiding something dangerous, as opposed to Britney’s obvious delight in their sadomasochistic activity. Superman rolled onto his side, holding himself up with his arms and managed to summon the strength to raise his head. His sad and beaten eyes looked helplessly between Britney and Anastacia.
“Stand up Superman,” said Anastacia.
“I can’t. I just… can’t.”
“You must,” said Britney. “Stand up and face your submissive defeat – it is your destiny Superman. Christina has foretold it.”
Superman clambered onto all fours and then with a groan and a sway he held his hands on his knees and lifted himself halfway up. He was shaken, poised to fall over at any moment but fighting against the Kryptonite to carry out their order. Beads of perspiration fell from his forehead as the two guards pretended to yawn. He was finally upright again, and looked at the floor.
“Please,” he stuttered, “Pl… please. Is there anything… anything I can do to change this… to change your mind? One last plea for mercy?”
Anastacia stared at him sternly, utterly impassive.
“Take off your clothes Superman. Take off the last pieces of what makes you a Super Man. Because you’re not a Super Man anymore are you? You’re a weakling. You’re Christina’s. The Kryptonite has destroyed your power Superman. You are not a Super Man, so stop dressing like one.”
Britney joined in the teasing.
“Plus, we want to see you struggle. It took all that effort to stand up so watching you undress should be hilarious!”
Superman sighed. Anastacia and Britney approached him, close enough for him to feel their warm breath. Their fingers ran over his big ‘S’.
“Take it off,” they said in unison.
Superman bent down, slowly and feebly, and pulled down his red pants. Anastacia held out her hands and with his head bowed, Superman passed them to her. He then looked up again at the guards, and they nodded at him with a sadistic, yet seductive smile. He pulled his arms from the sleeves of his blue suit and lifted the top over his head, passing it to Britney to throw onto the pile. It was the first time Superman’s bare, heaving and muscular chest had ever been seen and both of his captors were impressed with his form. He was so impressively tanned as well and they could see why their leader Christina had been so obsessively hell bent on capturing him and subjecting him to subservience.
“What pleasure Christina could derive from such a body, such a catch and such a slave,” Britney thought as she tossed the top onto the pile. She watched with Anastacia, as Superman pulled down his trousers, revealing his long, thick cock. He stepped out of the trousers and left them on the floor.
At last, Superman was naked in front of Britney and Anastacia. Having been blown away by his impressive physique, they were dumbstruck by the length and girth of his cock.
Superman was stripped. Stripped of everything but his Kryptonite collar, which seemed to glow even brighter now that he was in such a submissive pose.
“Well, I have to admit it Britney,” said Anastacia, “I’m just a little bit jealous of Christina.”
“Mmm, me too.”
They split up, with Britney walking behind Superman and Anastacia taking both of his hands. They moved him to the very centre of the room, and stood him on a square that was drawn into the floor. The atmosphere for Superman was mournful, like a funeral march as he was led and marched into a life of sexual submission and repression. The room and its coldness seemed to emphasise the life being slowly dragged out of Superman and a new life being created for him. A new life personified by Kryptonite; one of weakness and subservience. The collar defined his future, one of slavery at the hands of Christina. It was such a symbolic moment. He was being led by the hand and crossing over into a new life. Anastacia held his hands, and Britney walked to the wall, which had an iron lever on it.
“That Kryptonite must be killing you now Superman,” Anastacia said smugly. “I bet if you could have one wish and one of your powers back, you’d choose your ability to fly wouldn’t you?”
Superman shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, we’re going to give you that back,” Anastacia lifted Superman’s hands up into the air. As she did this, Britney pulled the lever. There was a whirr of machinery and overhead a maze of chains moved into action. It was essentially a pulley system. The chains grinded along, until above Superman’s head were a pair of manacles, linked to a two foot long piece of chain that lowered onto Superman’s arms. Britney and Anastacia took a hand each and handcuffed Superman into the chains. Finally, he was restrained. For the first time in his life, Superman could not move. He could not break free.
His stunning guards went back to the lever and pulled it again. The chains moved back into the ceiling and the attached manacles lifted Superman off of the ground. He was about two to three feet off the ground, his collar glowing and his cock swaying. Britney and Anastacia blew him a kiss and waved goodbye, laughing sadistically as the pulley carried Superman towards the door that Christina had gone through. It opened as Superman was taken towards it, helplessly dangling from the restraints. His arms were aching and his muscles were tearing. He was plunged into darkness as he went through the door and it slammed behind him. He was carried down a ramp into the notorious torture chamber, which was an underground expanse of danger and torment. Christina’s infamous sadism was about to be joined by Superman’s enforced masochism. The chains carried him into the centre of the chamber and what an intimidating sight it was. His eyes had barely time to readjust to the light. The room was lit by a multitude of candles and there was a roaring fire on one side. A combination of this change in light and the effects of the Kryptonite upon his super vision meant that he hardly had time to take in all of the details. In any case, the sight of his arch nemesis and new Mistress distracted him. Christina stepped out of the darkness.
She embodied dominance. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail on the crown of her head, pulled back tightly. Her make up was dark and her lips were pursed. She wore a chain mail bra and black PVC hot pants with thigh high PVC boots. The chains stopped, leaving Superman dangling directly in front of her. She looked up at him, with a sadistic grin. She sighed with a shudder of excitement.
“How do you feel Superman?”
He ignored her.
“I do hope you’ve not been inconvenienced by the wait for me Super Babe. I never like to leave my guests… hanging around.” She laughed and tossed her head back, clapping her hands together.
Superman moaned and looked up at the manacles that held him so tightly.
“You think… You think you’re so powerful don’t you Christina?” he gasped. “You told me that you were preparing my bondage. I’d hardly call this impressive.” It was a desperate attempt at taunting his captor.
“Well, you don’t look like you’re going anywhere for a while Superman, so I won’t cash in my chips just yet,” she replied, deflecting his jibe easily. “And in any case, your manacles are only a sign of things to come. I have a stricter, more intensive bondage for you. And what’s more, I’ve got more Kryptonite. That collar is merely the tip of the iceberg.”
There was a rush of air from behind the wall and something slid down a tube. A hatch opened and there were Superman’s clothes in a pile.
“Ah, a special delivery from my girls,” said Christina. “Well, you won’t be needing these anymore will you?”
She picked up the pile of clothes and threw them on the fire.
Superman could only watch as his cape, red pants, yellow belt, red boots and blue suit went up in smoke. Through the glow of the flame he saw his big ‘S’ incinerate and melt away to nothing. Every last trace of his power was now destroyed.
Christina shimmied towards him again, standing only a few inches away from him. Her head was almost level with his stomach and her mouth in perfect line with his cock. The chain mail bra rattled on her impressive breasts and she stood in front of him with her hands on her hips.
“It is time Superman. Your destiny has arrived.”