Superman Harem Slave
By Msclvir based on a plot by Mikechesty
The Prince was now playing his most dramatic of roles. He was in fact, playing a game, albeit a dangerous one. He had interrupted an attempt to capture one of the West’s most valuable commodities and was now about to play a game of diplomatic intrigue with another powerful Arab prince. As they approached the outer guest chambers, or the area where guests are received he whispered to his chief minister “just follow my lead”.
It was a well disguised room into which they were now walking. It was bugged, had surveillance equipment, and yet had the glamour and ostentation that the Prince wished to convey to others e of his power and person. His own Palace Guard was already there in less hostile or distrusting appearing numbers. After all, the militia was from the Emir. They were “brothers”, at least that is how it must be played for the outside world to the inner workings of politics in this desert land. The room itself dated back centuries, as did the outer guard chamber. The walls were thick and secure. There were secret ways to leave quickly with no trace that there had been anyone there.
As they walked into the room, Osham bowed deeply and backed to the rear side of the Prince’s chair. The lush pillows and golden appointments, the large imposing chair and the guards on either side were designed to simply state that whoever was here to present whatever, was dealing with a person of power in his own right and should be taken seriously
As the Prince mounted the chair he used to receive “guests”, he spoke with authority: “Salaam: to what do I owe the honor of your visit? What a surprise! Have your men been attended to with water and some refreshment? Is there anything that we can do to make this visit more accommodating to your needs and those of your men? Meanwhile, I doubt that you were simply in the area and came to give me greetings from the Emir ?”
“No my Lord Prince, but thank you. My men have been accommodated for all their needs at present. I come at the behest of the Emir of Carbudali. I am Rais, captain of the Royal Guard. We have been sent by the Emir to search for a missing person.”
“And what missing person would my ‘brother’ the Emir be looking for?” asked Abdul.
At this Rais hesitated. “It is an American spy my Prince. This is a matter of some security risk and the details have been disclosed to only a few of us and we have been sworn to absolute secrecy.”
“Oh, I am intrigued!” said Abdul. “But surely the Emir would not keep such information from his old trusted ally, Prince Abdul?” said the sly Prince.
“I fear that even at this time it must remain a matter of complete secrecy for the present. I was simply asked to come and see if you had seen any strangers, or observed any events in the area–that would include the sky or on the ground” said the Chief Guard.
“No…no, I don’t think so.” said Abdul. “Surely my men would have reported to me something like that. But I assure you; I will let you know should such occur.”
Now the Captain of the guard looked even more uncomfortable. “I have one more favor to ask from the Emir” he said.
“What would that be?” Abdul said with his most serene poker face.
“May we search the palace?” Rais said with his head suddenly lowered to face the ground as if to hide any information the prince might discern from his expression.
“That is indeed an unusual request” said the prince. “I am afraid that at this time I cannot allow it. My dear brother the Emir knows that I have many things going on behind these walls related to my commerce and indeed that even I have some things which must be kept in confidence from others. Please give my regrets to Emir Ra’id and tell him that he may surely do this another time. At the moment, it would be extremely disruptive to my procedures here. The Emir knows he may trust me.”
“Yes my prince” said Rais. “I will convey your regrets to the Emir. When do you think such a search would be possible, should it be necessary?”
“I will think on it” said the now annoyed sounding prince. “Tell my brother Ra’id to ‘be in touch’ won’t you?”
“Yes my Lord Prince” said Rais. “Salaam
“Salaam” said the Prince. “My chief minister will see you out. Osham!”
As the small band of militia left the receiving chamber, Abdul was more deeply in thought. “Did the Emir think he was stupid? Not on the inside track? Abdul had been far ahead of the Emir when his sources reported the renegade Russian nuclear physicist that he had captured, then employed for the Emirate. Ra’id had always been jealous of Abdul, whose wealth far surpassed the inept business practices of the Emir’s staff. However, sources had reported that this particular physicist had been working with lasers and their ability to convey within their light core, differing traces of actual physical properties! It had now been brought to Abdul’s attention that some nuclear fusion experiments had been held and a weapon of some size with a laser at it’s core was now fully functional. Even more so, the scientist had been able to control the temperature of the laser so that it might convey cold as well as hot! Lastly, Abdul also had come to know that this physicist had been given the task of exploring the meteor rock remains known as ‘Kryptonite’, very rare and of some value to the Eastern Block against the West, namely ‘Superman.”
Osham now returned to the room. He bowed deeply to the prince. “He did not look happy my lord. I do not believe that he went away easily. I fear that he may soon return”.
“Well, “said the prince, “we shall be prepared for another visit. Send for Haris, my captain of the guard and tell him to prepare all things as if for war.”
“Yes, Prince Abdul” said Osham as he bowed and backed out of the room to pursue this new command.
Meanwhile the gagged struggling mass of muscle once called the Man of Steel had experienced his first enema douche. He could not imagine why they were doing this to him or to any slave. Why clean on the inside? Weren’t enemas for intestinal problems? Although without his Super-powers, he was beginning to feel pangs of hunger, he had no intestinal pains … yet. This was really uncomfortable.
“Now you just hold that in American, we’ll get some of that infidel filth out of you,” Abu said in a mocking tone.
Superman shook his head violently and tried again to yell, and then scream through the gag.
“Oh, she’s quite a screamer” said Shareem. “The masters should like that–entertainment for the rulers!”
Superman, bound and gagged found it particularly shaming to be referred to as a “she”, especially since he had never felt so “feminized” in his memory. Thank God for the cuffs, at least they made him feel a bit more like a rogue stud!
Finally he had been scrubbed clean. Now he was dried with hand towels by the two slave trainers, Shareem and Abu.
“Now! You will be presented to Azuz formally for your slave induction” said Shareem.
Superman tried desperately to give an angry response: “ahhhbuuubraaarrraaauhhharrrrargh!”
“That kind of behavior won’t earn you any points with Azuz boy. You’d best shut up with any kind of response at all!” he said as he grabbed the humiliated hero’s swinging balls and squeezed tightly.
Superman’s knees nearly collapsed toward one another at the pain, but the chains still held him swinging between the two pillars. Now Shareem brought other chains, one attached the mighty sinewy trunk legs together. The other, brought his hand down with a momentary side chain to hold his wrist behind his back so that another chain would bring the wrists together so that they might hold them securely just above the top of his buttocks.
“Shall we go now ‘boy’?” said Shareem with pursed lips. “You’re looking awfully pretty now–time to meet the Slave Master properly dressed.”
The superhero had never looked more disheveled or defeated. As he was escorted on each side into a room with iron banded wooden doors, his tensions rose.
“Well,” said Azuz, “he already looks half a slave! Our training will finish the job. Come over here with the ‘new boy’.”
Superman struggled ever so briefly. He couldn’t help himself. He had to show some form of resistance to keep any of his dignity.
“So, still resisting huh?” said Azuz. Come on boys bring him over and strap him down.”
As Abu and Shareem pulled their captive over to Azuz, the Super-man noticed rings in the floor. He also noticed that the chair wasn’t any ordinary chair. I had strong arms rests about four inches thick. They were shaped in a curved way shaped like broadly drawn letter “u’s”. Shareem raised a short chain and attached it to Superman’s collar necklace. He then used it as a leash to pull the weakened son of Krypton over to the side of the Slave Master facing his left side. Behind him, he felt Abu attaching a short chain to his leg chains. He tried to lift one of his ankles off the floor. It would only mover maybe three inches. Suddenly, caught off guard and mystified at what exactly was going on, Shareem pulled him down by the short leash. At the same time, Abu grabbed him the back of his neck and forced him down. As quick as lightning, Shareem had him attached by the chain to the steel ring on the floor. He was now effectively if not completely literally on the lap of the Slave Master.
Azuz rubbed his hand over the baby smooth buttocks of steel. “Very nice–boy, but you must learn some manners. I know that you think that you have rights–all Americans seem to think so. But now you are not an American. You are a slave. A slave has no nationality. A slave has no wants. A slave has only the need to fulfill what is asked of the slave–now for a little discipline for a resistant and unruly slave.”
With this said, the hero suddenly felt something that he had never felt – pain on his buttocks! Sure when he was very young, his human father had applied the hand a couple of times, but when he discovered that the action did more to hurt his hand that to bring the desired understanding of displeasure, Mr. Kent had stopped trying to “spank” Clark. Instead, he came up with more creative measures. As it was, Clark so much hated disappointing his father that only a display of displeasure would usually bring the struggling Kryptonian into line. But now….he knew suddenly what the whole thing about a ‘spanking’ was all about.
“Like that boy? Bet it’s been a couple of years since you got one of those huh? Whatever delusions of manhood you’ve had before, this should put them away and put your senses where they are now by fiat to be. You are a boy – nearly an animal – but nevertheless a boy.” said the Slave Master, now in his element of expertise.
Clark did not know how to respond! First he felt humiliation, embarrassment, shame! Forty-eight hours ago he was the strongest being on earth: invulnerable (with few exceptions) strong enough to move many things on earth, fast enough to meet innumerable needs all at the same time. Now….
The Prince had two harems basically. One was the traditional harem of women either purchased or married by the Prince. This was to appease his reputation and standing among the Arab sultans, the emirs and kings. It was also a cover for his deeper interest – dealing in male slaves. Outside of cleaning, some bathing occasionally, serving the meals and generally watching over the women (all the while wearing chastity devices to keep them carefully chaste) the primary duty of the harem boys (or men) was to cater to the Prince and his ‘special’ guest’s tastes and whims.
“This is how all of the boy slaves are treated – no matter the age. We do not keep children slaves or young adolescents. We find they are better off staying with their mothers or fathers until they come of age so they can be sold. You…I suspect in your mid-twenties or so, you are prime beef for the stable. Abu ! Hand me the paddle!”
Abu now handed Azuz a leather paddle, holes had been cut through it to add to its effectiveness. Azuz now said, “the hand was to warm you up. This will be what you get if compliance is not immediate or if you disappoint anyone to whom you are loaned for usage.”
“Ahhhhouuughhaaagggguuuugh” screamed the now completely overtaken by pain, man now very-much not-of-steel but very much a man-of-flesh. Over and over again Azuz brought down the paddle all the while the helpless victim was suspended just above Azuz’s lap. After a while, the Super-man began to cry. He had never really cried, except in sadness or as a child, from rejection because he could not participate with the other boys in competition lest his abilities be revealed. Now he cried as any young boy might cry when punished. Big gushing tears now streaked down his stunningly handsome face. And something else happened. For some reason, completely a mystery to Clark, he began to have an erection! Whatever could have caused this, he could not even begin to guess, but nevertheless, there it was at first only lengthening so that it hung between Azuz’s big hairy legs–then, fully erecting to its 11 inches of all American manhood.
“Look!” said Shareem, “she’s hard. Isn’t that ‘cute’ – so juvenile, so much like a boy.”
But the worst was yet to come, as the beating continued over several minutes, Azuz would pause momentarily and reach down to grab at the turgid man root. He would stroke it lightly. A couple of times, he even pulled over some kind of soft feathers and played over the now fully alert genitals of Clark the some-time super being. The idea : completely an introduction to the brainwashing that the Prince had so mastered with his slaves. The most masculine and aggressive males had been subdued and turned into complete submissives by his techniques. Many would have no recollection at all of their previous lives and so could not even seek to recover them. They learned to live in the now. Finally, at the pivotal moment, Clark’s penis began to jump wildly. Abu came over with a glass beaker and placed it over the enormous organ. As Clark continued his sobs and trying in the most vain of ways, to get away from the paddle, the inevitable happened. He ejaculated.
At that moment, Azuz stopped. The now wildly insane Superman, gave one loud scream into his gag and became as stiff as stone. Great ropes of semen spurted into the beaker. “Would it ever stop?” his subconscious was thinking. At last, he fell as limp as a rag over the lap of the smiling Slave Master.
“There, that’s a good boy” he cooed at the panting super-slave. His hands now ran smoothly over Clark’s back and ever so gently over the crimson red buttocks of the once man-of-steel.
Superman had never known such agony but the mixture of the most agonizing pain with the most agonizing pleasure had the desired effect–his subconscious was now more open to be shaped into a new image. His mind, his powerful intellect, his indomitable will, were at the moment–putty.
Azuz now dipped his hand into the olive oil he kept heated over a small candle flame and ever so softly dripped it on the super-butt. At first the Kryptonian cried out softly, but very quickly, it began to sooth his pain.
“This had some narcotic mixed into it. It should both stop pain and begin to heal your ‘learning marks’. Let us hope that you have learned enough not to need such a demonstration again.” said Azuz. Over and over he rubbed the oil over the hot and red butt of the man once called Superman. He also rubbed the back and legs with the oil.
Shareem walked in with a report: “almost 10 ounces! Not bad for a newbie!” he laughed.
“Not bad indeed” responded Azuz. “Let’s get him disconnected from these floor rings and get him into a holding chamber. You’d best put him in one of the ones we use for the more pampered slaves. He’ll need some recovery time before we can introduce him to the harem. Meanwhile, keep up his training. I’ll check with the prince about continuing the next stage of his re-orientation.”
“Very well my Lord” said Shareem. “Abu–come help me here”.
As Abu came into the room, Shareem motioned him over. They each took the keyed locks that held the chains both to the superhero and the floor and removed the attaching chains. As they pulled Clark up from the “lap” of Azuz, he nearly collapsed.
“Come on good-looking, let’s get you some rest, some food and some healing.” With this, the two six foot slaves nearly dragged the Kryptonian with an arm over each shoulder to the other side of the room.
“This will never work” said Abu. “Let me take him, you just prepare the way.”
“Thanks” said Shareem. “You are right. This would take us an hour and he would be more scratched up than he is now.”
With that Shareem held the body of the super-slave boy up under his arm pits and Abu bent over. Shareem released the body of Superman and as Abu stood, the man of ‘steel’ was hanging head down, in front of the butt of Abu while his own blazing red rear end was up over the shoulder of the powerful Arab trainer.
“Well, we’re off to the holding chambers” said Abu. “Lead the way.”
Shareem turned and the three walked down a dimly lit passageway that was no doubt centuries old.
Azuz, watching them go thought to himself: “interesting specimen, interesting indeed. I’ve seen few slaves captured with such beauty. This one will bring a prize fee or price for rental or auction–yes indeed.”
(End of Chapter 3)