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.