Superman Harem Slave
By Msclvir based on a plot by Mikechesty
How had he gotten himself into this mess? He had never felt so completely out of control, so completely helpless and yes…afraid, in his whole life. This was the first time he could ever remember that his powers had not returned rather quickly after losing them to kryptonite exposure. He was not vulnerable, no one knew for sure where he was. People would not begin to worry for a few days possibly, but then… Even worse, he had placed himself in the hands of a man whom he barely knew and was now headed for an encounter with the slave master and with no invulnerability, who knows what would be done to him!
Superman had no idea how large was this palace of Abdul! It must have been constructed in the Middle Ages, but refurbished to many modern standards. Into the dark tunnel and down several flights of stairs, he arrived at a room with a large door of iron bars.
“Ah!” said a rather robust large man, with a rather large belly that was only slightly covered by the open vest he wore, looking like something out of the Arabian Nights. He was every bit as tall as Superman and looked like he could “mean business.” This was Azuz, the chief slave trainer.
“This must be the new slave! A rather large one he is at that! What is he some kind of European?” said the man talking to the handlers as if Superman was not there at all.
One of the large handlers said “American”.
“An American!…hmm, I think I’m going to enjoy this! Did the Prince give him a name yet?”
“A name?” Superman suddenly remembered that the Prince had said something, but he didn’t remember the Arabic name.
“No Master Azuz, he did not .tell us anything” said the darker of the two handlers. Superman was to learn that this trainer’s name was “Abu”.
“Well, let’s just call you ‘slave’ for the moment.” Azuz said, directing his first acknowledgment of Superman’s existence at the nearly naked man before him. “Let’s get him ready for training but first the cleanup. Since he’s an American, that shouldn’t be too tough. They are usually good at keeping up their appearances. Get him out of that slave thong.”
Superman cringed, “ah,.. Please sir! Are you sure the prince wants that?”
“Did I hear something?” asked Abdul?
“‘It’ made a comment Master” said the more Arabian looking handler named “Shareem.”
Suddenly without warning, Abdul turned and backhanded Superman in the face.” “Slaves do not attempt to communicate with freemen unless asked! Do you understand–slave???”
Superman staggered at the blow. Without his super powers, he did not know how to brace himself for such an attack. He also had to keep his anger under control, so using every ounce of what remained of his Kryptonian concentration, he moved back from the falling stance caught by the handlers and bowing his noble head said, “Yes…Master!”“That’s better, now off with the thong and bring him to the preparation chambers.” said Azuz.
“OK slave,” said Abu, “take if off! We don’t want to damage the uniforms!”
In a posture of abject submission, the man of steel, began to pull down the tiny garment that barely covered his flawless physique. Even the handlers were impressed at the size of his flaccid organ. Crowned by a hairy bush they could see the two very ample orbs that descended from that icon of masculinity.
“What a good catch and a good buy our Prince has made!” said Abu.
“Quite a beauty in fact” said Shareem. “I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on him as a pleasure slave! “
Azuz returned to the room: “didn’t I tell you to get this slave in the preparation chamber!”
“Yes Master Azuz” said the handlers in unison. At this, they dragged the naked Superman, vainly resisting, to the deeper confines of the large chambers.
(Meanwhile, upstairs, the Prince and his chief minister are walking quickly to the guest chambers at the front of the palace where two of the commanding officers of the militia are waiting.)
“Do you think he suspected anything?” asked Osham, the chief minister.
“That one may be the mightiest being on earth. or ‘was’, but that doesn’t mean he has any brains to back up that brawn!” said the Prince. “He’s just another arrogant, stupid American.”
“But even about the cuffs? And the necklace?” queried Osham.
“He has no reason not to trust me! I am friends with many of those he works for and with in world politics. I have only given him kindness. And now, my brothers in the Sultanate have done me the good fortune of shooting him down for me, so to speak. They want him for experiments, information, negotiation,” said Abdul. “I just want him for a toy.! Besides, without the ‘super-acuity’ of his senses at present, how could he know of the kryptonite at the core layer of the cuffs! I was just fortunate to be able to have it stolen from ‘Star Labs’ vault in the US. They have no idea what I can do!”
“Are you sure of the locking mechanisms?” asked the incessant minister of the Prince.
“The number of interlocking teeth, together with the tungsten I stole from the Chinese, should have even given the fully powered ‘Super-man’ a bit of a struggle. In his newly impotent state, he doesn’t even know how to react as normal human would. When we are done with him…he will be a sniveling begging slave!” As he said this, Abdul rubbed his hands together as if with something delicious before him. “Then,” he said, “I’ll take the prize I have so wanted,” and he gave a malicious grin.
Osham then gave a smile. His Prince was indeed brilliant. But now, they must deal with the militia.
(Meanwhile, back at “slaving central” Azuz was preparing his instruments of ‘slave-making.‘)
In all of his many years of fighting evil in the world, Superman had yet to encounter some of the misery inflicted upon human beings in some parts of this planet. He was about to find out some things he would never have thought still existed on the face of the earth.
“Ok men now string him up!” said Azuz with the voice of authority and experience.
Superman, now struggle briefly with the two muscular handlers but was quickly out manned and found himself hanging by his gauntlets! Unseen by him, with his only cursory inspection, as he really didn’t want to watch these instruments of his own subjugation placed on his wrists and ankles, there seemed to be a sort of very solid link grafted onto edges of the gauntlets in two separate places, allowing the slave to be stretched and bound in any configuration the slave-master deemed necessary.
“Now” said Azuz, “let us get a good look at this buck!”
Superman shuddered as the slave-master’s experienced hands began to move over his chest stopping to tweak his erecting nipples, shoulders and arms shivering at the touch of the cold hands of the slave-master, as he was noting the points where there were fine or thick pelts of hair. His musculature was tested by touch of hand, his flanks were slapped as if he were some prize bull and his firm and muscular buttocks were squeezed, then even the space between them opened and with a signal from Azuz, some slippery material brought over, the finger of the slave-master inserted and then plunged to Superman’s inviolate sphincter!
“Ohhhhh!!! Please sir– please stops! I am sure the Prince did not wish this to be done to me!” As the slave-master lifted his hand again, this time it fell firmly on Superman’s virgin ass muscles.
“Ahhh !!! Ahhh!!! It hurts!” Screamed the former in charge alpha male.
“It can hurt a lot more and you’ll learn a bit about pain later, but for now, would you shut up or do I need a ball gag for you? What makes you so special anyway that the Prince would not want you prepared as the other slaves all are prepared! Hmmm?” the slave master grabbed his jaw and looked him directly into those deep blue eyes.
“I..oh…” (Superman was at a loss, after all, the slave-master was technically right and he had no other instructions other than to prepare this harem slave) “I can keep my mouth shut Master” Superman said as he tried to back down and be submissive, lowering his head and bending towards the floor as best he could while hanging from the restraints.
“Now if the livestock will sit still, I will finish my examination.” Azuz continued. He finally got to the front with the exam, slapping Superman’s thighs from the sides at their rock hard texture, then ever so slowly putting his hands under the large dangling scrotum, now somewhat drawn up at the cold. He weighed them up and down in his hand as though measuring their weight. Finally, he picked up the large dangling penis. It was slightly erect, to the shame of the Super-male, due no doubt to the stimulation of the hands over his erogenous zones.
“Now what have we here?” said Azuz. “An American with a foreskin? You aren’t a Jew are you? A Moslem, surely not? From Europe then?”
Superman shook his head.
“Well then, we must still have a look, whatever the story.” Azuz began the very embarrassing task (at least for the one experiencing it done to him) of skinning the foreskin back and examining the bulbous head of the slave male. “Everything looks good here” said Azuz who rubbed his thumb over the head of the penis roughly with a laugh.
Superman jumped at the stimulation as Azuz let the penis flop back where it had been before and gave the fully humiliated Kryptonian a slap on the flanks. “Ok, shave him!”
Superman’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. He began to struggle, but of course vainly. What he could have snapped with a small flick of his wrist was now as hard as moving a planet or more so. He simply couldn’t budge the chains from which he now hung.
They brought out a large tub of some greenish looking goop. It was then placed over a small burner and heated for some time while Superman looked on with anticipatory angst.
Shareem went over to stir the pot of goop. “Like that?” he said while scooping up a large spoon-full and letting it fall from the height of his head back into the pot. “It smells awful but it does the job. It is an ancient recipe used for slaves by slavers. I think it was Egyptian in origin. Anyway, when it goes on, the hair goes off and should stay off for up to a year depending upon how your hair grows. You’re going to shaved barren, except for now, they’ll leave your head alone, well… is except for your mustache and beard. Slaves aren’t permitted them.”
He pulled on two gloves that extended up to his elbows and coating them thoroughly to his wrists and moved over to the man of the moment who now had his undivided attention.
Superman was tempted to speak up, to say something, but what would he say? “I’m Superman, this is a mistake?” So as Shareem began to coat his hairy chest, forearms and arm pits, he stood there and did nothing. Meanwhile Abu had out a traditional slave blade to shave him with. This was the largest razor after which there were several smaller sizes. As Shareem began on Superman’s moderately hairy chest pelt, the embarrassed stud had the distinct feeling that something was being taken from him. Emotionally, he felt somehow violated, emasculated–feminized. Of course this was only because this was being taken from him, he was every bit the masculine icon he had ever been and yet…here he was… feeling more like a young punk than the confident and assured vision of male virility that he was.
He felt cool suddenly as the signs of a pre-pubescent Clark from Smallville High began to re-emerge. His arms now were barren and soon so were the hairy pits that sprouted in his early youth. Then his legs were easily stripped as the “green goop” took hold. A cool breeze was now blowing through his mighty legs as each powerful muscle was revealed. Over his broad and masculine, v-shaped back where the cursory hairs were quickly wiped from him. Then his meaty butt felt the light coating taken from him and then into the crevice that led to the private portal of his person–stripped as clean as glass.
“Now for the coup de sort” said Shareem, who had spent his youth in Tunisia. As he watched, with eyes as wide as saucers, the handsome Arab took a rubber gloved hand and dipping it in the depilatory, placed it under his pendulous sources of manhood. He rubbed the green goop thoroughly over the balls of Superman and then turned away, while Abu came with a much smaller but frighteningly deadly looking curved razor.
“Not to worry slave. It’s not about you.” he said while holding the massive testicles in his hand. “We take our orders from our Masters as do you. They do not require that these be removed from your body…yet” and then he was at it, removing the last hairs from below the brows of the Kryptonian prince. Superman looked up at the ceiling in abject agony. As the cool air touched his no barren scrotum, and the second dipping of the gloves allowed the coating of his goop-flecked bush to begin, a feeling of panic began in him. He began to jerk wildly.
“No! No! Don’t – please! Don’t!” The six foot four mountain of muscle suddenly looked the part of a distressed school boy who was being abused by the school bullies.
“What’s this racket?” Azuz stormed back into the chamber. Superman quieted immediately as Azuz moved behind him and with one hard swat on his butt, brought him to rapt attention.
“Ahhhhhhhhh—yeow!” screamed the world’s finest.
“That is nothing ! Obviously you’re going to need some breaking in before you can be put into training and as soon as these two lug-heads are done with you, I’ll begin the process. Gag him!” screamed Azuz.
And so, Shareem grabbed a long leather strap with a leather wrapped elliptical object at its middle.
He moved behind Superman and hesitated just for a moment before….
“Uggghhhh!” screamed Superman for the second time and a gag, much like a bridle bit, was inserted into his gaping mouth.
Shareem’s muscular knee with one swift motion had kicked the pendulous “super-balls” from behind and for the first time, Superman knew the agony of being kicked in the balls. He nearly passed out hanging limply from his bonds while Abu continued as he shaved off the root of his virility the bushy signs of puberty Superman had worn since he was a boy of twelve.
As he staggered to regain his footing, Abu said with a final flick of the razor, “now you’re done–starting to look like a real slave boy.”
As Clark – Super-boy – man – gazed down, his crotch was as barren as a text book model. His organs, now shorn of their symbols of maleness, appeared huge, every vein and ripple of muscle now clearly seen. Suddenly he was hit from all sides from brightly polished and nearly concealed spouts on all sides.
“Ogulgulguglupppooouuuoophhoppp!” sounded for the bound and gagged hero. The high pressure jets removing all remaining traces of the green goop. Then suddenly it stopped and Abu and Shareem each came to him with a sponge and bucket of sweet smelling suds. They coated the shaved slave boy with soap and scrubbed him rather roughly until they were sure that they had caught every crevice. Then again the jets of water hit him full force.
“Ogulgulguglupppooouuuoophhoppp!” again the Kryptonian struggled to scream.
“Did she way something Shareem?” Abu mocked.
“Not sure, I don’t speak baboon!” Shareem smirked in return.
Abu moved behind Clark–the slave as the waters subsided and suddenly inserted a coated metallic object into his freshly shaved buttocks, only he didn’t stop at the outer openings to his virgin sphincter this time. This was Clark’s first anal violation–although it would not be his last.
“How about a little enema to calm you down? Hmmm?” snickered Abu.
How much more could he take? Psychologically, emotionally, physically? Where was the Prince? Why was he letting this happen to him? He had come here for refuge, now he was experiencing the more demeaning and humiliating moments of his life-time!
(End of Chapter 2)