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.