The Queen Among Rats

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Ezekiel
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Hey there. Once again it's been a while. I found myself drawn back to writing recently and worked on a couple of disparate stories that eventually ended up intertwining in a single narrative. It is a superhero peril story focused on my fairly original interpretations of the classic characters Superman and Wonder Woman. They largely just borrow the names in a context that I find fitting, but have little to nothing in common with established canon. The story contains M/M, M/F and F/F focused scenes, but just due to personal tastes and interests only the F/M and F/F interactions hold elements that are overly sexual in the conventional sense. I think the story would be of interest here and remains appropriate for this board, but if it's not the case, please let me know and it can be removed. While I strive for tasteful writing, be warned that it's a fairly dark and violent tale. Over the years I've grown an increasing interest in glorifying filth, both moral and physical. The first part will follow shortly and beyond that I'll try to keep a reasonable pace. I have a lot of material written down but some intermediate parts still need to be done. That being said, enjoy!
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Ezekiel
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WARNING: this story is bleak and very violent. I don't go into extreme graphical violence or body horror, but you can expect some very dark and uncomfortable themes.


The Queen Among Rats, part I

***

Those wind-swept tunnels were ancient, darkened by the memories of faded evils. Their present stillness was troubled only by the midnight air and the echoes of water droplets slowly depositing into a realm of stalagmites. Or as it happened on that more ominous occurrence, they were troubled by footsteps. The person, or apparition perhaps, walked with a confident stride, as if every twist and obstacle in the way had been committed to memory. They carried a creaking lantern, and its glass casing sparked with a flame which did little to reveal the bearer, for the figure was garbed in layers of rags with strips of cloth bound over their hands; hood and scarf concealed their visage. What that rather eerie light did fall onto was a floor littered with fragments of rock and bone, and upon five idols perched atop the sectors of a large circle inscribed on the ground. Between midday and moonrise stood a frenzied hound revealing its fangs. Next to it, approaching midnight was a cawing crow, and across from it followed a salamander flaring its frill along with many layers of teeth towards sunrise. A coiled serpent forked its tongue in the approach of midday. Lastly, a monstrous rat glared from the perch of midnight, the act of merely gazing upon it subtly distorting the edges of one's vision. The figure continued to advance until they stood between the idols, and then moved the lantern over each as they spoke.

"When I was a little girl, I'd sometimes sneak away and wander the forests. One time I got lost, and as night caught up with me so did a terrible storm. I found shelter in this cave, where I met the five of you. You've offered me protection, and though my journey through life has at times taken me far and away, I've remained in your shadow ever since."

Her voice was gilded poison, malice seeping into every word and dressing her tone with the lacerating edges of sensuality. "Rage...", she said, pausing before the hound. "Deceit...", she spoke under the crow. "Corruption...", she went on, doing the same ritual in front of the salamander. "Obsession...", she noted towards the serpent. "Malaise...", she concluded beneath the rat. Then she remained quiet until her steps brought her once more at the heart of the circle. "I am all of you. Destroyer, traitor, perverter, infector... in their righteous cause some would even reduce me to a whore, though only in their feverish dreams shall they ever see me on my back and with my legs uplifted. I sunder destinies, I cheat fate, I tarnish truth, I seduce judgement and I enfeeble will. I take ecstatic pleasure in doing all of those. Yet..." She sighed at that moment, exasperation and relinquishment lingering upon her breath. "I find myself alone against all odds. I have taken good care of you and I've always brought you gifts, but not once did I ask for favors. Now however it has come to this. I am not asking, I am begging. I beg for your blessings upon my hatred, for I confront unbreakable powers. I am pitted against your ancient adversaries, the myths that toppled you all into squalid darkness. Help me, and I swear upon my blood that in your glory I shall weave a litany of woe and ruin. In my wake shall crawl only weeping shadows and the sorrowful taste of defeat. Please. Do not allow the virtuous to triumph. Let them fall and be reduced to scum."

Silence endured after her plea, but she offered it due respect and remained still before the idols. Then, all at once the draft within the tunnels grew tempestuous, fluttering the rags about her and snuffing out the lantern. The gust became violent, warping into a shrieking wind that scattered grime, pebbles and bones. She stepped back, for the circle upon which the idols stood became visible in the dark. It was glowing with nocturnal radiance that appeared to seep further into the disk, ebbing the dust and granite into a vision of deep, inky colors cradled by a soothing rustle.

"Oh... yes...", she approved as the image grew in clarity, a sexual undertone dressing her words. "Oh! Yes!", she cried, her voice broken into orgasmic reverberations.

To be continued...
Last edited by Ezekiel 3 years ago, edited 2 times in total.
bobcashman
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Nice start but lose the colored fonts. In order to read them we have to practically highlight them.
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Ezekiel
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Thank you very much for the input. Getting any kind of feedback always means everything for a writer. I've grown into the habit of using colored text to indicate dialogues, as it makes it easier to keep track of who is saying what. On the dark theme it usually looks fine, but regardless, I will employ only bold text and italics where needed from now on.

I should have the next bit of the story up some time today.
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Ezekiel
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WARNING: this story is bleak and very violent. I don't go into extreme graphical violence or body horror, but you can expect some very dark and uncomfortable themes.

***

Dayport was a prosperous city, but one not without shadows. In the docks district rose what was known as the von Unsengen Tower. It was a building of black masonry and viridian glasswork belonging to Maximilian von Unsengen, who was both the richest and most controversial man of the city. A living saint in the eyes of the law, at least until of recent, and a success story as taken from a work of fantasy. Or better said, a dark fantasy. Even if unproven, it was common knowledge that his empire had been built on a foundation of sin. His fortune had grown in the echoes of blood and tears and only a true blackguard could have found rest at night, even if only a fraction of the stories told about him were true. To his merit, Maximilian's nights had been quite peaceful for a very long time.

That evening, as inky veils were drawn over the ocean, he lingered in his large office at the very top of the tower. His expansive desk faced away from a glass wall overlooking the waterfront, but Maximilian had spun around in his seat and leaned back, eyes lost in that tranquil view. He was a tall and vigorous man, dressed smartly if a bit gaudy. He seemed to have a fancy for kingly purple, as shades of it hued his wardrobe from the impeccable shoes and trousers up to the shirt, vest and jacket. High blood coursed through him as could be seen in the chiseled lines of his visage, but his green eyes had the chill of a serpent's gaze. His silver hair swept back bound in a long tail. He appeared to ponder something, lost in deep thought, with a bottle of wine and empty glasses behind him.

The antechamber to his office belonged to Tianna La Salope, a fairly young woman who had proven able to handle his busy secretariat. Under the warm light of the lamp, the desk was neatly organized, with certain important logs and documents at hand while the tower's records were archived in a separate room behind her. Her diligent nature was perhaps not that evident given her appearance. She was of average height, a fact which she negated via the high heels of black pumps locked with delicate straps around her ankles. Her curves however were outright salacious, their attraction further amplified by the tanned hue of her skin. She garbed a wickedly short black skirt, its tailoring on the brink of tearing as it struggled to stay wrapped around her thighs. Though alone, she appeared to enjoy being a tease for the shadows. She sat in her cozy chair with her legs held together and turned leftward, the left knee slightly uplifted such that occluding darkness fell upon the union of her thighs. Her upper body was dressed in a leisurely pink shirt with the better part of its buttons opened, the fabric adhering to her in such a way that the inner halves of her breasts were exposed but the outskirts of her areolae remained concealed. Her hair was a palette of amber and autumnal rust, bound in a messy bun with some rebel strands framing her visage. A light pink gloss shaded her lips and hazel eyes looked from beyond a pair of large, rather dorky spectacles. She shifted lightly in her place, twirling a pen on her fingers as her gaze traveled over the computer screen where a rather sensational article of the Dayport Daily unfolded. It was rare for that man to interact with the press. And it usually meant that another heavy blow had been dealt to the underhalls, were they beneath Dayport or some other part of the world. Unbending: Earth's Greatest Champion, was the read's title. What completely fascinated Tianna was the leading photograph, an even rarer event as the man in question seldom offered journalists the privilege of a pose. Yet there he was, in a representation worthy of his perfection. Legs spread, hips opened outward, fists perched on them and chin held high as his eyes peered into the horizon.

Who are you?, was the first question in the interview.

I am the Power. The Power you all have to change the world for the better.

Tianna felt a rush of heat in her breasts, a quickening of her heartbeat and an audible spurt of juice dampening the black fabric between her thighs. She was on the verge of sliding her fingers down there, when all of a sudden her attention was drawn to the opened doorway and the shadowy corridor behind it.

When the presence crossed through, she seemed to pull the darkness along with her, making some of it collapse in her trail like settling mist. High black boots clicked exquisitely, and though the woman herself was slightly taller and with longer legs than the secretary, she nonetheless sported the curves to match her. An all the more impressive realization as she was dressed on the side of elegance, being wrapped in a dark-ash coat that reached down to her thighs. The garment described a perfect hourglass, its upper half drawn by pear shaped breasts, the bottom one by her majestic ass. Her hands featured bony fingers held in slick gloves, and there was an unmistakable touch of nobility to her aspect, her visage being drawn in aristocratic lines that were veiled by an ever-present air of malice. She was perhaps a decade or so older than Tianna, in as far as could be seen from beneath the sensual hat with lace adornments and purple flowers. Under its rim unfurled hair of raven crests, layered in tumultuous cascades. She smirked at the secretary with purple-glossed lips as she leaned against the desk and took a peek at the screen.

"Oh!...", she gasped with a sexual undertone and a mockery of surprise, momentarily bringing a palm to her mouth. Her face slowly turned towards Tianna and angled as if glaring at the occluded area between her legs. That voluptuous smile silently teasing her made the secretary uncomfortable. She closed her thighs, even as the act squeezed more juice onto her panties. The woman looming above spoke, voice resounding as she uttered with passion:

"Mine beloved,
so dark are thine eyes that
in the evening when I lay mine head
upon thine lap it seems to me
that thine deep eyes are the well
from where the night flows darkly
over valleys and mountains and heathlands
covering the earth
in a sea of darkness.
So dark are thine eyes,
mine beloved."


Her accent was foreign, carrying the rasp of a darker realm. The secretary's jaw dropped slowly, and the woman simply gestured for silence, lush lips kissing the gloved finger in a bemusement just short of laughter before she turned and approached Maximilian's door. He did not bother to shift when she entered, as his familiarity with that strut allowed him to identify the presence immediately. As she made her way towards him, she removed her gloves and reached into a purse matching her charm from where she retrieved her phone. She pouted humorously as she went through the lines written on its screen.

"Superman breaks slave ring on the West African coast. Suspected ties with eccentric foreign businessman". She grinned and looked towards the figure still hidden behind the large chair. For the next headline, she made a mockery of awe both in how the corners of her lips shaped and the tone of her voice: "A Hero for Earth! Superman dismantles arsonist paramilitary group operating in the Brazilian jungle. Investigation leads to prominent politicians and interference from wealthy entrepreneur seeking to claim land". She tilted her head, as if impressed, and allowed her long tongue to sweep over her lips. "The man of steel averts an environmental catastrophe. Volatile chemicals are contained after improper storage brings them on the verge of a disastrous explosion. Maintenance company belonging to commerce magnate accused of mismanagement". Then, she burst into outright laughter. "Where authorities fail, the super champion triumphs! von Unsengen Processing will no longer spill its deluge into the Atlantic after Superman seals its drains and brings production to a halt. Owner finally to be charged for misconduct while performing industrial activities... By the fires below, who writes this manure? It reeks of stables. Ah, and this one is about me, from the headline in the Daily. Harsh sentence for Dayport's nobility. The most powerful man in the Universe calls Countess Simina de Vries a harlot amidst allegations of partaking in organized crime, human trafficking and prostitution... I have to say, I like his mindset. If I happen to be an attractive woman and I don't dream of choking on his cock, then I'm a whore. Because that's a very accurate description of my involvement with this scandal. Oh my, did I say whore? Goodness gracious, I meant harlot. He doesn't use vulgar words. Maybe he's afraid they'll diminish his superpowers? What do you make of this, Max?"

He remained silent a while longer, eyes cast into the darkened world as he brought his fingers together and rapped them thoughtfully. "It is absurd. Beyond absurd. Unfathomably distant from any form of rational measure. I started out as a street urchin struggling to keep my ribs from meeting my spine, and then I went ahead to build all of this... only for some prancing buffoon escaped out of a comic book to ruin me. Ridiculous. Humiliating. It's just not right, even by my extended definition of the concept."

"What has become of this world if even those who play dirty complain about the lack of fairness?" Simina chuckled, placed her phone back in the purse and threw both upon the desk, then walked around the furniture. She propped her ass up on it next to Maximilian, crossed her legs and opened the upper reaches of her coat. She leaned back,teasing a bit of the round thigh visible between the rim of the boot and the edge of her garment. She allowed her breasts to swell in the open air and the lace cups be outlined by the nocturnal radiance reaching through the window. She too pondered over that view of the ocean slumbering into the furthest stretches. "This is a game. And there are rules. Rules for everyone. Except us. It's always been that way. Superman has no right to intrude."

"Yes, very true. He isn't even playing the same game. I have to admit I'm just out of my element here. I can deal with any man, for no man is without weakness. But I cannot handle such a...". He paused, apparently unable to conjure the right description.

"Pompous cock?", she suggested with a bawdy smirk.

"It's just bad sport on his behalf to pick on me. And what does he accomplish, realistically speaking? Tear me down and someone worse will take my place. I would know far better than anyone what dwells in the dark corners of this city. It's beyond pointless. Can't he just fuck off somewhere else?"

"I agree that he plays a different game. In fact, you'd probably be interested to know that I've recently returned from a trip where I... well, for starters I've proven one of my older theories to be correct. Namely that offering to do anal followed by a blow job will get a woman across any borders. But that aside, I've also inquired on the matter. I asked some old friends for advice. They are a bit of an eerie bunch, yet what they told me supports my own conclusions. There is a pattern, Max, and if you'll look into your archives you will see that it dates quite far behind, even before Superman's first sighting. Have you by any chance noticed that the planet itself seems to be against you? Earthquakes, floods, sandstorms, all conveniently jeopardizing operations half the world away if it just so happens that you are involved with them. But you are a clever man, Max. No one could know of this outside of your closest circle. And even then, who would have the power to accomplish such a feat? It's not a doing of this champion. He may be the man of steel, but just a man he remains. Weather doesn't change on the mood of a man, but it will perhaps do so for the caprices of a woman. This is the work of a different kind of power. Where he is a bombastic dick, flaunting his virility and making a parade of his manliness at every opportunity, she is discrete and spiteful. So much like myself. You'd call her perverse if she were of the wicked. Max, this is the hand of a goddess who really doesn't like you."

"Wonderful. While we're here, any other calamities that you are heralding?"

"No", she laughed as she reached for the wine bottle and glasses, removing her hat as she did so. The night itself appeared to be consumed in adoration as it fell upon her visage. Hers were the blackest of eyes, wells of neverfading darkness. "But I do have a solution for your superproblem...", she said while playing rather suggestively with the bottle. "The goddess I mentioned may dwell in a realm unseen by mundane eyes. Somewhere in the Atlantic perhaps, maybe close to the Equator. Pinpointing the exact location will be difficult enough, not to mention finding an entrance. It might very well be completely inaccessible to any man, as she is the strong independent type. Those are things to consider for the future, but what matters now is that neither she, nor this champion, are out of our league, not by any means. You've just said it yourself, Max. No man is without weakness. That means not even Superman. I haven taken the liberty to make preparations for an opportunity to even the score. Or perhaps even gain a little bit of advantage on the board. The teaching of a long overdue lesson, if you so will. It is we who will do the teaching, and there shall be plenty for the man of steel to learn. On the outskirts of Dayport, perched up on the cliffs, is the disused refinery that once belonged to the Marsh family. I believe you still hold property over those grounds, yes? No one will bother us there, or even take notice of unusual activities. With the advice taken from those friends I mentioned, I have prepared a very special surprise for Superman. And I know exactly what will draw him to us. Something that, between my observations and the suggestions of my friends, won't sit well at all with the goddess either. Something apparently very minor, but nonetheless a form of defilement that will make her understand what it means to be impotent. She will just have to suck on it like a tart."

Simina extended a filled glass, then approached with her own for a toast.

"We can do whatever we want there, sure. But powering up what is left of the systems won't exactly go unobserved, if that is what you have in mind. Assuming the place is still in working order, of course. I considered scrapping it at one point, then changed my mind and thought I should upgrade the technology and start over, but the superproblem as you call it began to manifest."

"Oh, don't you worry. You know I'm very discrete. Too discrete, perhaps, as the vaunted super champion is overdue a public humiliation. But you can look at it from this perspective as well, you'll be the one privileged to see his face once I'm done with him."

"Vindictive, aren't you? Should I be worried about rousing your scorn?"

"Only if you are a sad wanker. In all fairness, I quite love being made into a whore, under the condition that I'm getting done well by a proper man. But if this pretentious fart thinks he is so imperious that he can call me a slut in front of some bimbo reporter even as her eyes are cast onto his crotch and her mons is sizzling, does that mean that I should just kneel gratefully and swallow? I protest. This is a matter of a Lady's honor."

She sipped the wine and narrowed her glare into the night, her lips forming a pernicious crescent. "Oh, Superman. What if you will bend?"

To be continued...
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Ezekiel
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WARNING: this story is bleak and very violent. I don't go into extreme graphical violence or body horror, but you can expect some very dark and uncomfortable themes.

***

In the astral realm that was his domain, adrift among the surging currents of primordial energies, far beyond even the most distant stars, he was met by a vision. Not one of sounds or images, but rather of emotions that rippled like vibrations upon those astral tides. Evoking first a cry of distress, then a plea for help, and finally an omen of unspeakable evil.

Night had settled over the ocean, bringing along lumbering clouds of charcoal tinge. Red lightning struck above the waves and a booming thunder rolled as the waters began to swirl into a great maelstrom. From there his voice called forth:

"With the virtues of the high realm united within me, I am the Power!"

He soared from the depths with his body outstretched, leading with tightened fists. A tonal blend swept over him, touching each contrast and the myriad of nuances between: the shimmer of diamond, the blaze of volcanic fire, the bite of frost wind and the tranquil cobalt of the ocean. Then he was revealed in all of his grandeur as a tall and exceptionally well-built man, his frame one of bone inlaid with muscle to the highest of ideals. There was a deep sense of nobility to his visage, traced in the sharp lines of his jaw, nose and stern lips. His eyes were twin pools of deepest azure, their hue coursing at odd times through the ravendark hair that swept back in rich crests. His attire was sparse, adhering tightly to his body and dyed in deep, enamored red. Boots were molded to his calves and he was bare up to the brief that contained his manhood. The member's weight rested against the velvety fabric outlining its details from pommel to crown. The garment clung tightly to his hips and then spanned over his firm glutes, whilst the contour encircling his waist was that of a golden band adorned with a mesmerizing ruby. Matching red gloves of slick design reached up his forearms, and the only other pieces of apparel were the twin shoulder guards held by leather straps crossing his upper chest and back.

After his ascent, Superman dived again and made level just above the waves. The storm settled in his wake and he pierced in a straight line towards the coast, drawn by a sinister pull. He was north of Dayport, approaching the old Marsh refinery. High on the cliffs were the upper grounds with the fenced yard, derelict buildings, chimneys and hangars. Digging down into the cliff face were several levels of deeper installations, a dark maze of galleries and pipes that had long fallen out of use and became the refuge of shadows and dust. He was drawn to a particular opening that gaped just above the waves. He stopped before it, hovering with his legs slightly bent and fists at his sides. Unaware of the villains observing him, and unknowing of the immense satisfaction his initial reaction already offered them.

"Nn-nhh..."

It was a low, deep groan, born from a fundamental revulsion towards that sight. It caused a sensation of void in his gut, a shiver of unease in his groin and a fleeting weakness in his entire body. "This...this is very wrong". His deep voice would otherwise have been warm, but the mere sight of that mess caused a tone of concern to insinuate within it. His lips were lightly opened, revealing the white of his teeth in a worried grimace as he watched that black mass creep towards the pipe's edge. A horrid, viscous and bubbling substance that lurched in long filaments and dripped into the water, seemingly dispersing into a cloud of foul ink from the tiniest droplet. It was a small amount, but it felt to him like a befoulment more vile than any pollution he had ever battled. Its mere presence in the vicinity diminished him. A true ultra-toxin, bane of any natural order or high power. A slime so corrupt it could humble any champion. The call for help had thus become all the more clearer to him. The goddess closest to the ocean must have fallen sick from the very first drop that tainted its surface. Though he understood the need to act quickly, the hero lingered a moment longer, scouring the darkness of that shaft; perfectly still and silent as it was aside of the dripping substance. Yet he could feel that it wasn't wholly abandoned. Something lurked there, something kindred to that baleful grease. But for that very reason he was who he was. Determined, Superman flew within, his aural glow of red and gold illuminating the way. He followed but a trickle of sludge and realized how much worse the situation would have been if a larger amount had been present. Not far into the pipe, his way was blocked. A great seal was locked in place, with the dribble suppurating from beneath it through a rusted opening in the metal. Superman initially reached with certainty for that disk-shaped obstacle, but at the last moment his fingers hesitated and curled around thin air. There was the possibility of that seal damming a much greater quantity of the sloppy horror, and for all he knew it could have already been spreading throughout the cliffs, worming its way within each crevice, readying to burst in a vile climax. Yet he couldn't afford to waste time navigating that maze of galleries or the compound above, and with gritted teeth he grabbed the seal. It was an effortless task, as one pull broke the locks, and then another swung the large lid to the side, revealing more dark pipeline beyond. The muck was but a diminished trail, reaching yet deeper. He glanced momentarily over his shoulder, towards the exit glowing in nocturnal radiance. He felt that the presence stalked him, studied him in some difficult to comprehend manner. "This can be no accident. I need to get to the bottom of things."

He hovered onward, muck seeping beneath his boots, until the trickle abruptly ended. It slowly dripped from above his new position, from a breach in the pipe's surface. It looked like a part of the upper structure had collapsed and broken through. The hero lifted himself cautiously, rotated his body around the vile mass and flew along it, sensing an eerie current pass him by as he did so, grazing with particular presence along his inner thighs and groin. Up there he found a a cube-shaped, toppled chamber of forgotten purpose, lost in a conglomerate of metallic structures that had intertwined chaotically. It somehow still drew power and perhaps had once stored noxious compounds, for it was signaled to him by flashing red bulbs. A round vault door was wide open, and from beyond it poured the filth in low trickle. As he drew closer, Superman could feel an unsettling vibration in his gut. Steeled, he soared into the room and landed on the concrete floor assuming his power stance: legs were spread, hips were opened, fists lay perched on them and chin was held high. The trail of muck winded between his boots, but there wasn't much else to see except a small fissure in the concrete, close to the middle of the chamber. It flashed and crackled, as if sparks ignited in the air there, sparks of indigo hues. It was to small to see clearly, but the black mass bubbled upwards from that fissure due to some reaction, like a polluted spring that then dripped along and found its way towards the ocean.

"Welcome, Superman."

In a dark chamber somewhere within the complex, the surveillance camera located above the vault door fed the hero's image to a monitor. Next to it was a microphone, and shadows draped the silhouette of Countess Simina. She remained concealed, revealing only her hands as they delicately held the microphone or operated a small console by her, and the lips glossed in purple, their movements warbling sounds in sultry tones. The vault slammed shut and a sequence of heavy bars locked it tightly. Just before it sealed, the faintest of impressions would have caught one's eye. As if a shade without source had slithered in. Simina smiled provocatively, seeing in the monitor that Superman maintained his power stance. "I will be your teacher tonight. You will learn many things. Are you foremost a hero or just a man in those fancy pants of yours? Are you still the most powerful man in the Universe if they get sullied? What would happen if the cock that you so haughtily parade would be dominated? Would a champion's dignity bend as his rod hardens? And just how much of a champion's countenance could you still uphold if prostrated at my feet? Who are you, truly, when the only part of your body not feeling weakness is the swollen head of your cock and it's jizzing loads of cum? It will entertain me greatly to educate you in this journey of self-discovery. And if it happens to help you get hard right from the start, know that I have slipped in something very, very sexy, just for you and you alone."

"So, a trap. She poisoned a goddess to lure me in on her terms. Now she has all the advantages and can play as dirty as she wants", he thought just as a shadow crept out of the fissure. It crawled along the floor away from him and expanded on the opposite wall. It then flared like tongues of a raging fire or the heads of a hydra. Superman knew very well what that thing was, and the only questions that remained were how had Simina managed to conjure and tame it. That entity was a hunger demon, a parasite dwelling in entropy and feeding on intense emotions. A dweller within a world of darkness, far below the lights of the Cosmos. An adversary of life certainly, and likely responsible for the dire sludge slowly bubbling out of the recess that had spawned it. However, that was not the right time to ponder, for the demon lashed.

Tendrils of darkness made matter shackled Superman. One slithered along each leg, coiling up from the boot, over the knee and thigh and squeezing the hip. One did the same for each arm, winding around up to the shoulder. A fifth coiled his throat and he was hoisted up from the floor by all of them together. The sixth one struck hard in the base of his groin, then extended up along the length of his cock and bound over his chest. They tugged and pulled at him in such a way so as to make his member grind against the soft pressure placed upon it. When that happened, Superman's mind was beset by a storm of negative emotions. The lowest forms of hopelessness and despair sank in and he felt a deep bitterness weighing him down as it settled in his chest.

"Is your cock responding to the care it receives, Superman? If so, you may wish to cease struggling and just follow your body's desires. Your cock always knows what is best for you. Perhaps if your pants were removed you'd be more docile? Are you a champion if caught with your pants down?"

The tendrils immediately followed her suggestions. The ones latched to his hips began to tug at the waistband. The one coiling his chest unfurled, withdrew and struck again forcefully against his gonads, then reached up behind his thighs, over his glutes and began to prod the edge of the garment. But then, the ruby adorning him flared brightly. The entity reeled. The tendrils released Superman as the red light grew blinding. Shrieking, the crawled back to the wall and floor and scuttled in the crevice.

"Superman, what are you doing?!"

Simina's voice carried a mix of genuine confusion and frustration at that point. She had sincerely hoped the demon would make short work of him. But as it were, she watched the champion press on and mount himself on top of the crevice. He dug his feet into one side, then leaned forward to push with his hands on the other, all the while bending over in such a way that the great back musculature of his thighs, his ass and the weighty pommel of his cock garbed in the red fabric where outlandishly displayed for her. The sludge bursting upward sputtered almost to his groin, yet the hero nonetheless grunted, strained and began to push with his arms and legs. Simina's frustration deepened, for surely simply being so close to that opening should have debilitated one such as him. Yet the exertion she beheld was not due to being enfeebled. If Superman had tried to enlarge a simple opening in the floor, that would have been an effortless task. But what the hero mounted against was no longer just a crack in the concrete, rather a rift into a lower plane. A small one, but the fragile equilibrium that stabilized its energy meant that trying to shrink or enlarge it was always an uphill battle, hence the effort seen in the champion's hardened muscles and heard in his low grunts. "You idiot, the emanations of that pit will destroy you. Or you'll be swarmed by those things and get dragged inside", she said spitefully, half-hoping that at least one event would come true even if it meant she'd lose out on all the fun.

As for the hero, his only real concern was having the sludge burst at a greater measure from a widened gap, but he didn't have to press too much. Just enough to be able to get a clear view and reach down. What he saw beneath him was an active power line from which a black crystal fed itself. It was the source of the low pulsations he felt, now present in his groin at such a proximity, and the bridge joining the two worlds. It also fed power further into a twisted mass that had grown around it, a bloated ashen coral that bubbled and sputtered with the black liquid. That was the origin of Simina's toxin, and the way to end everything became quite apparent for the hero. When Superman reached down and grabbed hold of the mineral, once again negativity rippled through his mind. An abyss of forlorn regrets, a sea of missed chances and an unrelenting sensation of inadequacy all washed over him.

"You flatulent fool..."

Simina's mouth formed a vexed oval and she nodded in denial. She witnessed the hero stand up and wrestle with the crystal that burned fiercely in his palm with dark fire, even as the sludge continued to pour between his legs. He crushed the mineral in his hands and the first layers gave way immediately. But then, as the crystal became diminished, its resistance mounted fiercely. Both jewels blazed, the ruby on his brief and the artifact struggling in his grip. Gritting teeth and closing his eyes, Superman brought his hands low, close to his waist. His mind had become a haunted chapel, one reverberating fiercely with echoes shaming him for failure and weakness, pointing out his impotence and ridiculing his nature.

"Not even you have the strength for such a task. It will break you, Superman..."

Holding on to a shred of amusement, she watched the hero bend over more, struggling to bring his hands down under his groin. His hips turned inward and his knees caved, and as she was treated once more with the fine view of his nethers, Superman added the squeeze of his inner thighs on top of his hands. Then, in a sound akin to a distant howl, the crystal was shattered. Only ash slipped from his hands, falling upon an already dried coral that crumbled away and ceased its ejection of filth. The power line fell silent as well, and Superman just dusted off his hands, then turned for the camera and speaker above the entrance. His legs and hips were set, as well as the fists and angle of the chin.

"Only a woman as wicked you could have been wrong on all accounts, Countess. Whether I am a man or a hero is not even a relevant question. My deeds speak for themselves, as does the spite you hold for me. Would you have devised such an abominable plan for a man? Was it worth for a hero? It looks like my pants still brace my hips, and my manhood is indomitable both against abyssal denizens and your harlot charms. My powers have no equal. And I shall continue to flaunt them along with my pride. Because the world must know that a champion exists. Someone who isn't afraid of criminals like Maximilian, someone who cannot be infected by the corruptors of the body, heart or soul, someone who doesn't bend or harden to the whims of a fickle harlot. I am that champion. I am the Power. The Power you all have to change the world for the better. And I will hold you responsible for the unspeakable evil which you have performed today. No one in recollection has ever so carelessly played with such a perversion. Your foolishness is baffling, and yours is the blackest of hearts, Countess Simina de Vries. The abyss itself would reel in your presence."

The speaker chirped immediately, as if she was ready to lash out in anger, but only static carried through in a lengthy, disturbing monotony. Then it fell silent, the locks clicked and the vault door swung open. Superman took flight immediately, retracing his passage along the line of dried, dissipated sludge and out into the open night. The air was fresh, the sky had cleared and the moon was on the rise. A patch of corruption yet floated upon the waves beneath, like a memory of grief that was nonetheless going to heal and be forgotten in time. From there he soared along the cliff face, hurrying to intercept Simina. Deep inside, he congratulated himself. Her silence told him that his words had genuinely upset her. As truth often tended to do when spoken so directly.

To be continued...
Last edited by Ezekiel 3 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
User avatar
Ezekiel
Sargeant 1st Class
Sargeant 1st Class
Posts: 240
Joined: 11 years ago

WARNING: this story is bleak and very violent. I don't go into extreme graphical violence or body horror, but you can expect some very dark and uncomfortable themes.

***

Heeled sandals with embellishments in the form of black roses clicked towards the dim hangar, and elegant stockings with likewise floral designs dressed her legs about half-way up the round thighs. Her upper body was wrapped in a black and purple fur coat, a rather perilously short one given the circumstances. Its lower edge formed a soft v that was higher near the hips she swayed in a sexual manner, while barely venturing under her groin and ass. She ran a sweeping hand through her hair, with a tempestuous mood obvious in the narrow eyes and harsh expression. She had been bested, and the only victory she could any longer foresee was reduced to a getaway. Fuming over her defeat, under the lunar glow she reached into her purse for the keys. Nervous, she dropped them right by the door of her pick-up truck, entailing a hissed "Fuck!" as she bent from her waist, keeping her legs straight. She snatched the keys from the ground, but as she was about to get back up, her eyes looked forward and noticed the red boots kept spread apart, with the toes turned outward. Ascending, her visage traveled in the space between a muscular pair of thighs. She stopped at the level of the groin framed by gloved hands resting on hips, took a deep breath and measured the exceptional cock, dormant against the soft red fabric and rooted in a pair of large gonads that were held in the same tight embrace. Simina's lips curled into a diplomatic smile as she straightened all the way, eyes traveling further until she met the hero's gaze.

"You're one thing on camera, but... look at you, Superman!" She turned around and left the keys and purse on the hood of the car. Then she placed her hands above the door, spread her legs and arched her back, pushing her ass upward as she smiled at him. "Am I under arrest?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. You are."

"On what charges?", she asked, snapping around playfully, facing the hero and wiggling in excitement, making her breasts heave under the coat and her hips dance beneath its rims. "My crime is that I can never have enough of your pants and cock, perhaps? Do allow me to justify myself. If I could see only your face, I would say you were a poet wandering the realms, stealing the hearts of princesses." Simina moved her palms over him as she continued to speak. Shying just out of touch she hovered over his arms and core while keeping his eyes transfixed. "But then I gaze upon your body, a war shrine. And the space between my thighs grows wet when you flaunt your superpowers in battle. Yet that is still not you. You are in fact here..."

Hovering above his hips, her hands then moved along the waistband of his brief, nails of her index fingers gliding just over the golden line until they reached the ruby. Then her palms formed a cup which moved down and ascended, passing close enough to exchange warmth with his groin. Afterwords, her arms returned and crossed under her breasts. She looked down upon his slumbering bulge. "No man wears red like this. In a manner so sexual and yet so magnificent. The passion of a lover, the virtue of a champion. You... a woman has no right to even dare dream to dream of you. Does that make you proud? Does it give you power?" Her gaze met his eyes as she asked, and her lips remained lightly parted, as if holding back a wistful sigh.

"I have enough pride to not be swayed by a harlot's flattery. And enough power to deal with you, Countess", was his simple answer. He remained adamant, standing above her like a monolith.

"But what about a harlot's loins?"

Simina then took a step closer and brought her hands just under the rim of her coat. She moved right beneath him, played with the rim and lifted it slightly, revealing more of her ass and hips as she engaged in a hypnotic dance, swaying them like tranquil tides beneath the moon. With satisfaction, Simina watched his eyes slowly shift focus over her shoulder and down to that spellbinding motion. "I said I'd slip in something very sexy just for you, didn't I? Do you like it? Enjoy as much as you want. I could do this all night for you". Silent and still, he remained imprisoned by her rise and set. But then she sensed his breathing growing heavier, and she noted the barely perceptible tremor of his core, as if the fireflies had been stirred. She looked to his crotch and smiled victorious, seeing the buds of arousal upon the swollen head, and the first embers lighting along the enlarged trunk. "My, my... a harlot's hips can harden Superman after all. But is that the harlot's victory, or simply a weakness of his virtue, hmm? And do you think I'm wearing panties right now, by the way?" Her smile turned silly as his eyes met hers in confusion, and she noted the flush of red on his face. "You've already asked yourself that question, haven't you? Consider it a little game. You don't have to hurry with an answer, as the stakes are quite high. If you guess incorrectly, you have to let me go and remain all by your lonesome with the hard-on I just gave you. Better luck apprehending me next time, if that will be the case. But if you win, then I have to do something to you."

A shiver coursed Superman and he exhaled heavily. His groin throbbed once and the hardening member began to align itself, pointing straight at Simina. She delighted in seeing the hesitation on his face. His crept open mouth was at a loss, his eyes were silently pleading for some hint. With a naughty smirk, Simina reached for the upper holds of her coat and opened them, teasing the large breasts in black cups. She added their jiggle to the dance of her hips, which in turn caused tremors along Superman's frame. She gave him an accomplice wink and bit playfully into the side of her lower lip. "That being said, it's not every night that I can get Superman hard, unless of course you're not telling me something. So an easier question it is, then. Look carefully into my eyes, champion. Same rules, you only get one shot at this. Look into my eyes and tell me, what is my favorite poem?"

"Uh..."

"Mmm?..."

"The..."

"Yes?..."

"The..."

"The?..."

"The Well of Night?"

Her dark eyes narrowed lovingly and her mouth formed a lustful oval. "Ooooooohhhh...", she groaned, drawing upon sexual inflections from the depths of her womb, "...yesss!" She pumped her fist and reached for the car's hood. Pulling the purse with her, she began to descend, even as Superman felt his rod ablaze with want.

"O-ooooohhh... Unnnhh..."

Superman's low moans filled the hangar. He had tightened his hamstrings and glutes, closed his eyes and turned his face upward as he extended his hips. His arousal had reached peak, and in the hold of his garment burned a massive volcano, eager to erupt. A vascular, incandescent rod coursed with tingling energy fed from his primed gonads. Its summit was a crown of fire, pressing against the red fabric and hungering for the woman before him. As she descended, Simina's eyes widened and a look of insecurity settled on her face. "It's so big! Will it even fit in my mouth?" She crouched under his cock, such that looking above, Superman's smouldering crotch loomed over her. She breathed in the musky smell of his gonads, then settled with her thighs shut together and ass resting just above her heels. Looking down briefly, she rummaged through her purse. "Look at me. I want you to see me do this...", she invited, and as he obeyed she pulled out her gloss. She looked into his eyes as she applied a layer to her wide opened mouth, then pouted and kissed the air to settle it in. Superman groaned again and trembled, his pillar-like legs convulsing lightly from the tension of arousal. "Now just close your eyes and... let... me... work..."

"A-aaaaaaaahhh..."

All she had done to earn herself such a deeply personal moan was to blow warm air over his musky pommel. She had yet to touch him, and simply sat crouched with hands on her thighs, bringing her neck up as her warm breath moved towards his summit. His tension was extreme, he gasped and gritted teeth, mounting closer and closer to a phenomenal release.

"A-aahh!... Aaahhh!...", he groaned between heavy breaths when her hands finally met him. Simina pressed down on the fabric of his brief, using it to maneuver his cock and apply pressure to it. Then she slid her palms towards his hips, using his own garment to slowly massage the rod as her fingers reached further up.

"I did it...", she said, looking triumphantly at him, nose breathing down on the head of his cock while her fingernails slipped under the golden band. "I have made Superman hard as steel."

"Hey, Superpants!"

Maximilian von Unsengen's voice called from behind the hero. Still in the throes of arousal, he gazed imperious at Simina. Her brow arched and she shrugged, as if shocked by his passive attitude. "Well don't look at the whore. You're the champion. Deal with him. I'll be right here for you", she promised, remaining perfectly still with her hold on his body. Maintaining stance as well, like a lion claiming his pride, Superman just turned his head over the shoulder, eyes along the plane of his back, his visage darkened with anger. He growled:

"What?"

To be continued...
User avatar
Ezekiel
Sargeant 1st Class
Sargeant 1st Class
Posts: 240
Joined: 11 years ago

WARNING: this story is bleak and very violent. I don't go into extreme graphical violence or body horror, but you can expect some very dark and uncomfortable themes.

***

Maximilian walked with a confident stride and was dressed as for a rodeo: fancy boots, leather trousers tight over his strong legs, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, its upper bindings loosened and exposing his strong chest. Superman was in the hangar, by Simina's pickup truck. The hero stood with his back turned to him, hands on hips and legs opened up, being far too preoccupied with the woman crouching before him and the monumental arousal she had caused. The villain focused on that pompous ass, it's magnanimous build encased in the tight hold of his brief.

"Hey, Superpants!", he roared as he crossed the hangar's gate. The hero appeared to completely ignore him, practically needing Simina to urge him to do something. When he did turn his head, he didn't even bother to look at Maximilian, as if expecting him to vanish on some considerations of principle upon growling a menacing "What?" The villain smiled and released the safety of the heavy sprayer he carried. The long shaft had a canister fastened to its base, filled with a thick, black and bubbling liquid.

He walked right behind the hero, grinning.

"How about I give you a rimjob instead?"

"A-aaa-aaahhh..."

When that guttural, diminished groan rose from Superman's throat, and when in a gasped breath he announced his own downfall, Simina looked up with a malicious smirk. She gestured with her index finger in denial towards the hero's cock, blew it a kiss and waved farewell before getting to her feet in one lewd, undulating swoop. Taking some steps back, she stopped with her legs slightly parted and hands on her hips, put on a perverse smile and enjoyed the show. The sprayer made an ignoble sound, as of drawn-out flatulence, and ejected a highly pressurized jet of the toxin the hero had met in the lower levels. It blasted him in the middle of his ass, completely smearing his brief with the black goop. The force of the impact sent trails of liquid up his back, around his hips, down between his legs and along the back of his thighs. Superman remained in a semblance of his stance throughout the initial moments of the dousing. He groaned slightly bent from his hips and on shuddering thighs whilst his cock began to throb. Then he stumbled forward, his legs mired by a sensation of extreme weakness. His hands grabbed at the air and then he squeezed his fists, suddenly tightening throughout. With a desperate face he looked into Simina's cold eyes. The shock done to him by Maximilian had driven him over the edge.

"No... Can't... hold... AH!... AAA-AAAAHHH!!!..."

There was something deplorable about his cry. His hips quaked and his cock burst, ejaculating a load that darkened the fabric holding its tip and then blasted down forming the trail of a comet. His emission was powerful enough to force the fluid through the garment, such that the white of his sperm crowned the cock while the drops seeping beneath trailed down it's length as rivulets of white magma. He crumbled to his knees, toppled forward on his hands and curled his back towards the ground. He gritted his teeth and his core contracted rapidly as he continued a violent release, bucking from his hips and glutes with each discharge. The front of his brief rapidly turned into a quagmire of seeping sperm. Maximilian smothered his ass all the while, but gradually allowed the sprayer to dive low so that he could reach between his legs and hit his groin. While he still ejaculated, the hero's crotch was drenched in sludge that diluted his seed. Maximilian stopped dousing only after the orgasm was consumed. By then, the hero's eyes were closed, his jaws clenched and his breathing haggard, as if he were terribly exerted or in extreme discomfort. The villain slowly walked around him and approached his right shoulder, sprayer held like a sword of victory, and was quite delighted to see the hero turn his face towards him.

"Ah, Superman, finally you grace me with your gaze."

"A-annh... A-aahh... A-aa..."

Those pitiful moans, defeated eyes and a grimace of impotence from his trembling ruin were all that met Maximilian's smile. The villain nodded in approval. "I noticed you loved my service. I dare say it was much better than what you would have received otherwise. Was it good for you? Would you like more?", he asked on a polite tone as he readied the sprayer. Superman quivered and lowered his eyes at Maximilian's boots, in submission.

"M-my... p-pow-powers...", he mumbled, his voice stuttered and feeble. It was at that point that Simina burst in wholehearted laughter. She clapped her hands, fumbled about on her heels, swayed her hips and wet her eyes with tears of joy. Maximilian looked at her confused, then back to Superman who continued to tremble beneath him.

"Excuse me, but what exactly is so amusing? I mean, I can imagine given what I just did to the most powerful man in the Universe. He is ready to lick my boots, but still. Your performance is... very heartfelt."

Simina fanned herself, then brought her hands to her hips and strutted closer to the fallen hero. It was her turn to put on a haughty glare, meeting the pleading eyes Superman moved towards her, his gaze and saddened grimace as if asking for her help or expecting her protection. She looked with a triumphant glint into those lost eyes and answered:

"That's something between me and Earth's greatest champion here. When he was down in the drains I insinuated some claims to which he offered me a rebuttal, but given how everything turned out, I'm sure even he can figure out what vainglorious cock was wrong on all accounts". She smirked wickedly, her comment having made the hero lower his eyes in abasement to her feet as well.

"Oh. Fascinating. But I only did the honorable thing, really. Such behavior as I was witnessing here had nothing to do with the virtue of heroism. Real superheroes ensure the beautiful lady gets home safely, they don't hassle her for oral services in the parking lot."

"Yes, that's exactly how it happened. He forced me to the ground and was about to shove his cock in my mouth. Some hero my ass. You've spoken like a true champion. Did you hear that, Superman? You could learn a thing or two from a real hero of the ladies. Anyway, mind telling us what's wrong with you? You were so ready to shoot until a few moments ago. You looked like you could have melted Max just with your glare if you had wanted that. Did he really weaken you so much? Don't tell me you just lost all of your superpowers because of what Max did to you, or because you jizzed them in your pants. That would be so pathetic. Still, hopefully you've learned your lesson and you'll stop preying on innocent, unsuspecting women. Like Max said, he was only trying to defend my honor. What would you think if you saw a beautiful woman forced to get under some roused, smelly cock next to her car's door? You would call her a harlot who deserves what's coming to her and walk away, right? Face it, Max really outclassed you here and he owned your ass big time. He could have easily taken you from behind, but he was honorable and righteous and announced his intentions. Even so, though he had no advantage, he beat you in a fair fight and you can't even take it like a man. I've never seen a more pitiful display of weakness! What's with that look on your face? Are you going to cry like a super boy and ask super mommy to protect you from the bad man who sullied your panties and made your balls pop? Don't forget to complain to her about the harlot who refused to blow you! Just tell her that I don't blow losers, hah!... Max, look what you did. You've completely humiliated Superman!"

In trembling prostration, so weak that he couldn't even grovel for mercy and shamed beyond the ability to speak, he looked at the villains in defeat, silently admitting his disgrace and hoping that his submission would please them. As his broken spirit gazed back up, his eyes were met by Maximilian's contemptuous glare.

"H-how... c-could... y-you...", he mumbled in a half-whispered and hopeless voice.

Without saying another word or even allow him to finish, the villain blasted Superman's face, sending the jet right in his eyes and mouth. Simina watched with pernicious glee as the hero toppled down to his elbows and then collapsed on his side, utterly debilitated by the toxin. He shuddered violently, and Maximilian strolled along his fallen frame, dousing him from head to toes until he was completely bathed in sludge. For good measure, he shot the final quantity held in reserve at his depleted gonads and followed along the length of his exhausted cock. In the end, Superman lay unconscious, completely still and half-submerged in a pool of blackness.

"Do you think he's dead?", asked the villain.

"Not with our luck. Prod his balls and see if he sings."

Following her suggestion, Maximilian brought the tip of the sprayer down in Superman's crotch, where he began to apply pressure to his scrotum.

"o-h-h-h..."

It was the faintest whimper, barely a trace of air escaping his sludge-covered lips. Within that filth, his fingers twitched lightly. For a few moments he trembled, but then he sank once more in impotence.

"Hah, what do you know! Maybe a little bit more of my toxin would have managed to kill him. Regardless, he's out of it. Not even I could harden his steel now. He's done."

"Good. And this is why you always have a back-up plan", added Maximilian as he continued to torment the hero's groin, wresting feeble whimpers from his defiled face.

"Or perhaps this was the plan all along?", asked Simina with a luminous grin, cocking her hips.

"That is something for Superpants to ponder on while we haul his blasted ass and dump him somewhere. This place might receive some attention after our little adventure, and I would want him to enjoy the benefits done to his superpowers by your toxin for as long as possible."

Simina brought her things to the truck, then followed Maximilian as he put on a pair of heavy work gloves. He grabbed the fallen hero by the mess that was his hair and reached down his body, taking hold of the waistband under his low back. "He's heavy for a waned failure", he noted as began dragging him towards the back.

"And that's after he jizzed enough to paint my truck. Imagine how much heavier he would be with all that cum still in his balls!"

"Good thing I made him lose it. I still can't believe he allowed me to do that to him."

"Neither can he, I'm sure. But that's what he gets for being ruled by his cock and staring at my hips."

Simina opened the tailgate, then gazed at the hero stretched face-down right at her feet while Maximilian caught his breath. "Isn't he adorable, already spending so much time where he truly belongs."

"Indeed! If containing him didn't involve such a ghastly and difficult to procure compound, I'd gladly have him like this in my office. Just imagine it. You head inside thinking you can hassle me to get the better end of the negotiation, and you find the most powerful man in the Universe laid out like a rug, maybe even keeping my shoes shining. What would that say about me then?"

"That there's a very capable woman at your side?", suggested Simina with a grin.

Maximilian conceded her point, then grabbed Superman's hair and brief again, heaved once more and threw in the back of the truck like a sack. They took their seats, with Simina at the wheel, and drove into the night.

To be continued...
User avatar
Ezekiel
Sargeant 1st Class
Sargeant 1st Class
Posts: 240
Joined: 11 years ago

WARNING: this story is bleak and very violent. I don't go into extreme graphical violence or body horror, but you can expect some very dark and uncomfortable themes.

***

"You can stop right here. Back up just a bit, as close to that light post as you can. Good, let me get my gloves."

The refinery's grounds were behind them, curtained in darkness atop the cliffs. The road winded along, with the ocean rustling at their left and a few specs of stray clouds sailing the moonlit sky above. Still a ways further in the distance, nested along the coast, glinted the lights of Dayport in warm tones. To their right grew untamed woodland, following a steep descent from the side of the road towards a bramble of trees and bushes. After giving course to his instructions, Simina's heels clicked languorously around and towards the back of the truck. She stopped when the post was behind her, resting with her arms lightly touching the bed side and letting her hair flow down in lunar gilding. She displayed bare shoulders and the cups of a black corset holding the roundness of her breasts. Arching a brow, she flashed a wicked smirk as she looked over the edge. Superman was stretched face down, with hands reaching close to his shoulders and his legs slightly parted. The sludge covered him in a greasy coat and he ached groans of sustained suffering.

"Not feeling any better at all, champion? I imagined that a fresh breeze would help you recover some of your powers! Flattering to see how potent my toxin is! Max, will you give Superman a hand? He really hasn't regained any of his vigor since he lost the duel with you."

"Of course! An honor to help the most powerful man in the Universe overcome this embarrassing moment and be dignified in his defeat!"

Maximilian climbed up next to Superman, so that the hero's fallen body was between his boots and Simina. He lingered there for a moment, gazing with contempt at his frame. Then, he reached and grabbed him by the hair. He pulled his head up, revealing his crushed expression. Superman's eyes were black abysses, his lips encrusted by filth in a grimace of ruin.

"U-un-nhh... h-help m-me... p-please...", he whispered in between pained groans.

"What was that, Superpants? I think you'll have to speak louder. Let me turn you up a bit". Maximilian's hand came down hard between the back of his thighs, slamming into the gonads cupped by his sullied brief and giving them a strong squeeze.

"A-... A-... A-..." The hero convulsed, breathless whimpers barely warbling out of his throat as severe discomfort contorted his expression.

"Still can't hear anything. Will have to squeeze more volume out you", said the villain as he began to twist the hero's genitals.

"A-aaaah... m-mercy... h-have... m-mercy... m-mercy..."

"Ah, you want mercy? Well, you'll have to inquire with the lady in charge for that. Allow me to direct you."

Maximilian dragged the hero towards Simina and shoved him against the bed side were she was waiting. Superman ended up with his left forearm resting along the edge, his chin on top of it, whilst his right arm and knees barely managed to give him support. Maximilian towered behind him, fists clenched at his sides. Superman's ass and aching groin were lifted towards him in a terribly humiliating and submissive display. Through the muck in his eyes, he gazed straight into Simina's breasts. She perked them up and grinned at him, turning slightly from her waist.

"Tell me, Superman. Did you ever beg before?"

"N-no..."

"Really? I actually find that hard to believe. One would think that you ended up in this predicament many times before given your vulnerabilities. Being brought low by such a debilitating weakness when you are used to being so powerful must be difficult to bear, especially for a champion as proud as yourself. Well then, I'd feel like a very special woman if you went ahead and did a little bit of begging for me. Show me what you got, hero". Simina pouted and winked, then brought the hands to her cups and jiggled her breasts.

"I... n-no... p-lease... n-not n-now... p-please, I... i-... im-... implore... y-you. Sh-show m-me... p-pity..."

"Mmm, a humble performance. But I guess it is to be expected, as everything is humble about you, Superman. Except your pride. And the size of your cock of course. But we've all seen how much those helped you, didn't we? Max, you have my permission to grant the hero an adequate amount of pity for his humble performance."

"Here you go, Superpants! Here is your earned pity!" Maximilian came down upon him violently, wresting the hero up by his hips. Simina stepped to the side, revealing a dumpster fastened to the post, its screws having gone loose with neglect. "Dumped with the rest of the trash", laughed the villain as he began to haul Superman over.

"N-no... you c-can't... d-don't..."

"Slam dunk!"

The hero fell face-first in the dumpster, sinking within the litter up to his waist while his ass and legs remained dangling in air. His weight was too much for the metal fastening and the container fell loose. It hit the ground, then tumbled over and rolled downhill into the shrubbery, taking Superman along for the ride. In moments he was gone, the foliage settling and the sound of his rolling quieting. Simina turned her eyes for the distant grounds of the refinery, something about that darkness drawing her attention.

"He'll be down there a while. Would be fun if some diseased vagrants found him. Imagine what a nightmare his ass would be up for."

"Get inside, Max. It's best that we don't linger."

"What's wrong?"

"We aren't the only bad dreams loose tonight. And Superman's ass will be on the receiving end of a particularly nasty one."

Superman could not hear the villains depart. He tumbled along the slope, through the thicket and eventually halted face down against the roots of large trees, his upper body still trapped within the dumpster. Inside, he feebly coughed and groaned. The garbage had been forgotten there for a while, its reek was pestilential and the filth clung to the sludge that coated him. If he hadn't already been so weakened, its effects on him could have been quite severe. He was trapped, way too feeble to move or even cry for help, unlikely as it were for anyone to reach him down there. He couldn't tell how long it was, for every moment passed in sustained agony, but eventually he realized he was not alone. A familiar presence approached, creeping with great caution as if it tried to understand what was going on with him. In spite of his debilitated condition, Superman could recognize it for what it was. "N-no... this c-can't... n-not... n-now...", he whimpered as the demon from the refinery's depths began to creep closer with heightened confidence. Likely, the fiend had withdrew into a crevice after its initial defeat instead of returning to the rift, then eventually wandered back out when things quieted and followed Superman's trail of suffering like a hound sniffing the hunt. The hero could feel that the entity recognized him as well, and that it was eager for revenge. "Awhhh... Aaaah...", he moaned as a weight settled on top of the dumpster, pressing him further into the garbage, and he felt tendrils slithering down on his legs. They grazed along his glutes, the back of his thighs and thoroughly wandered between them, then they slithered up the brief and began to tug at the waistband, attempting to pull it loose. "N-noooo...", he whimpered pleadingly.

"Begone!"

It was a woman's voice who uttered that command, a voice reverberating with the might of the ocean's depths. The entity furled its tendrils and Superman could feel the pressure on him being relieved as the thing withdrew behind the trees. He felt the woman advancing, then the dumpster being taken hold of and pulled away from him, though the garbage remained piled on his top.

"Hera's spite! Superman, what happened to you?!" Perhaps normally she would have had a soft and motherly tone, but its tranquil and reassuring nature had been darkened by worries. He could answer only with a meek groan at her feet, and the same faint request: "H-help m-me... p-please..."

"Just bear with me, alright? I'm not feeling that great either, and if that muck gets on me we're both finished."

He felt a chord being tied around his ankles. Then, in spite of her words, the woman pulled him easily and dragged him back up the slope. "Away, horror! Stay away! Hera, if only I had my powers I would smite you to oblivion!", she threatened towards the entity that kept stalking from the cover of the wood. Eventually Superman felt himself reaching the side of the road again. A blanket was thrown on top of him, likely to avoid direct contact, and he was hoisted up by the chest and thrown into the back seat of a car. He went in about halfway, then he felt the woman grab his ass through the blanket and push him in further. He curled up on the seat, pulling the blanket feebly around him as the door slammed behind. He heard the engine purring and the car took off in a hurry. He breathed in relief until he felt a nudge, as of something hooking against the trunk.

"Medusa's gaze! I can't see anything in the mirrors! Only blackness! That fiend must have latched on!" The woman's voice was begging to break with fear. "I can't lead it into the city, it will cause a disaster! But I cannot fight it either, not feeling like this. It will defile us both! Hera, if only I had my powers..."

Even in his clouded state, Superman could feel himself sinking deeper into despair. After having been through so much that night, his mind had gone wild and already imagined the terrible things that the entity would do to them. He was broken, but the woman was yet strong, certainly entertaining to humble for such a vile manifestation.

"Oh, thank the stars!", the woman cried, suddenly hopeful. As he lay behind her under the blanket and with his eyes clogged in muck, he could not really understand what she meant and could only be guided by the sound of her rummaging around the front of the car as she drove at high speed. "You wanton whore! Hahah!",she laughed with uncanny joy. He felt a draft of nightly air as the window by the driver opened, then the soft sound of something fluttering in the wind. "Here, eat this!", cried the woman as she let go of something. The car nudged and once again the hero felt the darkness relieve, as the entity let go and chased whatever it was that the woman had thrown. Then, as the car sped along the coast and towards Dayport, the hero finally passed out.

When he came to his senses he was down on the ground on knees and elbows, still having the muck and filth clinging to him. "This won't be too comfortable, but it'll help", she promised before blasting him with by a powerful jet of fresh water. The woman hosed him down thoroughly, stripping off the grime and litter. And though the relief was small, it was a relief nonetheless and immediate in nature. However, it was no short of humiliating, and he felt more and more diminished as she had to go about and hose him in the intimate areas, sticking the jet between his legs or under his brief. While the muck yielded to the jet, he was certain the traces of his cum wouldn't. Eventually she began to strip him and run everything through the pressurized water. By the time she cast a clean bathrobe on his naked body and began to towel him down, his awareness once more receded into darkness.

To be concluded...
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