Date: Sat, 30 Nov 2013 05:11:11 +1100
From: Henry Dee <hennnery53@hotmail.com>
Subject: THE SEVEN BDSM NIGHTS OF SUPERMAN     Chapter 1: The First Night

Disclaimer:

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

THE SEVEN BDSM NIGHTS OF SUPERMAN

Chapter 1: The First Night

Superman cruised high above the Atlantic Ocean in a confused state of
mind. A great opportunity had presented itself, yet with it there were
question marks. Since the threat of kryptonite had forever been removed he
had a confidence to match his enormous power. Interpol and other
international security organisations had done their job well in helping him
to locate all deposits of the deadly green and red mineral on planet
Earth. He had watched almost in ecstasy as the almost 500kg of kryptonite
had been blasted skyward atop a Russian rocket on a one-way trip to
annihilation in the sun. With the kryptonite removed, he had redoubled his
efforts to rid the world forever of the corrupt criminal organisation of
his hated adversary, Lex Luthor, the most evil man on Earth, and everywhere
the Luthor empire was crumbling.

But now there was a new development. Stung by the attacks, Luthor had that
day made contact with Superman via a secure radio frequency...

"Superman you alien asshole, you have the upper hand and I admit that my
final and total defeat is only a matter of time. But be warned, in whatever
time is left to me as the world's pre-eminent master criminal, I will use
all of my resources to go down fighting. I cannot win but I will go out in
such devastating fashion that the world will tremble, and your victory will
come at the cost of thousands of lives and overwhelming destruction of
property."

"However, I give you an alternative. You allow me one final little victory
at no cost to people or property, after which I will go quietly into
retirement and give you all of the information you need to quickly and
easily undo my entire empire. Names, locations, bank account numbers,
everything. Your victory will come even more quickly than you can have ever
imagined, and untold lives and property will have been saved. What do you
say?"

Superman was puzzled by the offer. Certainly he feared what the insane rage
of

Luthor might do as he faced his Waterloo, and the offer to surrender
quietly so much valuable information was irresistible, but what was the
"one final victory" to which Luthor referred?

"What is it you want, Luthor? I won't let you harm any human being or what
is theirs, in any way."

"It's so simple Superman. You come to my secret headquarters - I will give
you the coordinates - every evening for seven nights.  You be my slave,
subject to my every whim on these visits. And at the end of the seven
nights I give you all that you want and surrender to you. Without
kryptonite I cannot harm you, and you will not be asked to act against any
human being or participate in any destructive act. Furthermore, over these
seven nights, I will put a hold on all of the activities of my
organisation."

"It sounds sick Luthor. Totally typical of you."

"Perhaps, but at least as I go into retirement I will be comforted by the
knowledge that for one week of my life I had achieved my greatest conquest,
Superman as my slave, obedient to my will. My offer stands until
midnight. If you haven't accepted by then, I unleash the whirlwind and we
end in a storm of destruction."

The offer was of course too good to turn down. To save so many lives, so
much property, and put an end to the Luthor organisation, was a dream come
true. And without kryptonite, what could Luthor do to harm him? He would
suffer at most some humiliation, even degradation, for a brief time, but it
was surely worth it for what was on offer. Yet he couldn't help wondering
if there was some unexpected twist to this that he has not foreseen. A mind
as brilliant and devious as Luthor's could come up with anything...

Four night's later, Superman glided into the steep canyon side of a massive
open cut galena mine. The lead in the mineral deposits distorted his x-ray
vision and he could not penetrate into the surface of the mine walls,
artificial cliffs that hung ominously over the deep wound in the Earth,
which was the mine. Just as Luthor had told him, there was the slight
overhang, which cleverly concealed a small rough balcony and the wide entry
into the fortress within; Luthor's hitherto secret headquarters.

He silently glided onto the balcony then walked into the room beyond, a
palatial hall lined with marble and lit with elegant electric
chandeliers. At the far ends of the hall were massive oak doors, which his
vision easily penetrated, and beyond these corridors led to many rooms. But
the walls, floors and ceiling, built as they were against lead-laden ore
deposits, were impenetrable to his gaze.

Luthor stood at the centre of the room alongside a long, richly dressed
dining table, set to accommodate 24 guests. Along the far side of the hall,
standing against the wall with there hand clasped in front of them, were
five huge, heavily muscled men clad in wrestler briefs and boots.  No-one
else was present.

"Ah Superman, you arrogant cunt, you came as promised. Your triumph is at
hand, I concede that, but this next week belongs to me, we agree?"

"Agreed Luthor. Let me just clarify the terms one last time..."

"Just as I promised Superman. You do my bidding as my slave over these next
seven nights, here in my headquarters, and on the final night I will give
you this..." and he held up a hollow silver cylinder, about 30 centimetres
long and 8 centimetres round, with a bulbous screwtop end... within which
will be a list of all the names, locations and accounts I promised. After
that you fly me to Washington to surrender me to the FBI, and the contract
is complete. Agreed?"

"Agreed Luthor. I'm here as promised. Your slave for the next four
hours. What do you want?"

"Tonight I have planned a banquet for friends and associates. You will wait
on us, serve us our food and drink with the appropriate deference and
politeness of a trained waiter. And you will finish the evening by doing
the washing up. Understand?"

"Yes."

"That's 'Yes Sir, Mr Luthor'".

Superman quietly bit his lip and paused for a brief second.

"Yes Sir, Mr Luthor."

"Good boy. Now if you go through that door you will find the
kitchen. Gustav and his staff will direct your work. Go boy."

Superman walked towards the door confident in his safety but still
tentatively wondering how the night would pan out. Through the closed door
he could see the chef and sous-chef at work in the kitchen. He walked in
and waited.

"Ah, the staff!" said Gustav in a thick Bavarian accent. "Your uniform is
there on the chair. Get into it then uncork the wine. It's a good year. It
deserves to breathe."

Superman looked at the chair and chuckled to himself at what lay on it. An
oversized French maid's outfit: skimpy black dress, white apron with a
heart-shaped bodice, fishnet tights, white cap, and black stilletoes in a
size no French maid ever wore. So this was Luthor's game. Humiliation. But
the tall Kryptonian only smiled as he shed his famous skintight costume and
began to don the outfit of a sexual tease. His self-esteem was immune to
this sort of attempt. He would wear the costume, even play along as Luthor
required.  At the end of the day he would remain Superman and be one day
closer to his longed-for victory over the arch-criminal. Luthor could have
his brief triumph; it would all come to nothing.

Truthfully, it galled Superman not to be able to apprehend the criminal
guests there and then. Luthor it transpired had told them that Superman had
come under his power via a secret drug that rendered him obedient to
Luthor's will. Many he recognised as leaders within Luthor's vast
multi-faceted organisation; drug barons, murderers, pimps and thieves. But
he would have the last laugh. They had no idea that at the end of the week
Luthor would hand all of them, and their many underlings, over to him on a
plate. Let them have their fun for now.

And so the first night passed. The "French maid" served the wine and
food. "She" allowed the roaming hands of the guests to wander under the
skirt and feel the naked flesh beneath; the costume had no pants. "She"
bent from the waist when guests "accidentally" dropped their cutlery onto
the floor, allowing her massively muscled butt and the rosebud within full
exposure to the ogling eyes.  She stood and chatted in a light French
accent when guests involved her in conversation, pretending not to notice
the hand under the skirt firmly stroking "her" growing cock. And she only
laughed when her generous "eggs" were grasped and displayed as comparisons
to the grapefruit on the table.

When the guests had finally gone, throwing ribald final comments as
Luthor's five muscled henchmen showed them out through the oak doors,
Superman returned one final time to the kitchen. In superfast time he
washed and dried all crockery and kitchenware, much to Gustav's delight,
then changed back into his regular costume and strode out towards the
balcony.

"Same time tomorrow, Kitten," mocked Luthor with a wink. Superman gave a
brief cursory nod then launched himself off the balcony into the dark void
beyond. In mere seconds he was once again home in Clark Kent's Metropolis
apartment. As he showered, his mind wandered between mild disgust at the
game he'd been the focus of earlier that night, to subtle amusement at the
immature sexual nonsense of it all, but most of all to the expectation of
ultimate triumph in six more days.

He slept soundly, only slightly troubled by dreams of humiliation and
servitude. But that, of course, was only a fantasy.