Date: Mon, 13 Apr 2020 00:12:31 -0500
From: vb.spanko@gmail.com
Subject: Spanking Superman

A little backstory: I have long had this bizarre fantasy about spanking
Superman. When I've shared my stories with people, they invariably say,
"That's impossible!"  Well, of course it is.  Superman is impossible. He
doesn't exist.  Or they say, "Yeah, and you'll break your hand!"  But is
Superman is not a hunk of hard, cold steel.  True, his body is normally
indestructible and impervious to pain, but just because he's referred to as
The Man of Steel, it doesn't mean his body is a chunk of hard steel. Since
the 1970's, he has been portrayed as having sex with Lois Lane. That
wouldn't be possible if his body wasn't soft and sensitive.

I have been fascinated by Superman since I was a child. Once, when I
mentioned him to my brother, he said, "I prefer my heroes to be vulnerable
to more than Kryptonite."  I was somewhat taken aback, but later I realized
that I do as well.  That's the entire premise of my Superman spanking
fantasy.  Besides, Kryptonite has been done to death.

Basically, my personal idea of Superman is that when he is aroused by a
good looking young man, he becomes weak and submissive. And although his
body is still indestructible, he is no longer impervious to pain. This is
what I call his state of "super-submission." He obediently allows himself
to be spanked. And eventually he cries. All of this serves to keep him from
becoming to arrogant and abusing his powers.

So here is the first of my stories. Superman and the related characters are
the intellectual property of D.C. Comics. This story is a work of
fan-fiction and is not for profit.


Spanking Superman—Episode 1: A Day at Work By Varbir

It was a bright Monday morning at the Daily Planet. Just before eight
o'clock the workers came trickling into the newsroom. Among them was Clark
Kent, looking rather the worse for wear. As Superman, he had been up all
night getting a spanking from Butch Madison, a twenty-two-year- old local
thug who was feared by most who knew him. Muscular and handsome, in a
rough, intimidating way, Butch had had no trouble making the Kryptonian
hero submit to a long night of punishment. Superman had been naked and
erect for the entire long, painful spanking session, and had been bawling
his eyes out uncontrollably. His soft, tender bottom was red with a burning
pain that was more than the hero could stand. It had been three hours since
the spanking had stopped, and only an hour since the Man of Steel had
stopped crying, although his eyes were still red. He had made his way back
to his apartment and gotten ready for work, and his bottom was still on
fire.

As he made his way to his desk, hoping for a degree of anonymity, Jimmy
Olson called out to him. "A rough weekend, Mr. Kent?" the young reporter
asked.

"Yes, Jimmy...er—uh—couldn't sleep last night."

"I understand, Mr. Kent. You shouldn't spend so much time chasing the
babes." Jimmy chuckled to himself. He knew, as almost all of Clark's
coworkers did, that the bumbling reporter was in reality Superman. But his
friends supported and protected him and his nemeses (like Lex Luthor) used
the secret for leverage over the hapless hero. So no one revealed his
identity.

Jimmy also knew of Superman's proclivity for being spanked, as did almost
everyone else, but this too remained unspoken. Jimmy also knew that Clark
didn't chase the babes, but had a weakness for beautiful, young men.

"Right, Jimmy," said Clark meekly, "shouldn't chase `the babes.'" He forced
a little smile.

Clark continued to his desk, walking awkwardly as the fabric from his
clothes rubbed against his sore bottom.

"Kent, I don't care what you did this weekend, but I want you performing
completely up to speed!" boomed Perry White.

"Er—you got it, Chief...up to speed," replied Clark. Perry knew.

Before sitting down, Clark took a foam rubber donut out of the brief case
that he carried and placed it on his chair. He grinned sheepishly at Steve
Lombard, the sportswriter, and said, "Hemorrhoids."

"Yeah, sure," the former jock snickered. Clark didn't consider Steve a
friend and wasn't wont to give him any more information than he
needed. Steve didn't know for sure, but had his suspicions.

Lois Lane was already at her desk, typing away on her computer. Lois didn't
look at him, but said, "Look what the cat dragged in!" Lois knew.

Clark tried to force a smile.

"Did I hear my name being taken in vain?" demanded Cat Grant, the gossip
columnist. Cat also knew everything, although she hoped that she could
overcome Clark's preference for boys.

"No, Cat," replied Clark. "Lois was just speaking metaphorically about the
feline animal, using the idiom, `what the cat dragged in.' She wasn't
talking about you."

Everyone chuckled at Clark's awkwardness. How could such a mighty hero be
such a dork?

The newspaper staff got to work on their various assignments and the
morning progressed without incident, other than the persistent water cooler
gossip about Superman getting his bottom spanked.

Just before everyone broke for lunch a hulking, young man appeared at the
entrance to the newsroom. It was Butch Madison.

"Oh, no," thought Clark. "What's he doing here? Does he know who I am?"

"I wanna see Superman!" demanded the bully. "If he's not afraid to face
me...I have some unfinished business with him!"

"I thought he was finished spanking me!" thought Clark. Prior to last
night, he had gone for several weeks without a spanking. Now, it seemed, he
was getting it in spades.

Everyone immediately surmised that it was Butch who gave Superman his
spanking last night.  They tried not to look at Clark who was inching his
way to the door, conspicuously looking inconspicuous.

"Jimmy noticed him and thought, "Gee, is Superman going to face him, or is
he just trying to get away?'

Meanwhile, Butch busied himself trying, with considerable success, putting
his moves on Cat.

In the alleyway behind the Planet building, Clark had just finished
shedding his outer clothes.  His red, blue and yellow costume glistened in
the sun as he streaked up into the sky. He flew several miles away from his
workplace before turning around and heading back. He wanted it to look like
he was coming from a distance. He needed to protect his secret identity at
all costs.

Superman flew more slowly than usual, being still weakened from his
spanking the previous night. The erection which now tented his red briefs
also hindered his flying. He didn't know if he was more afraid or more
excited at the prospect of the muscular, young man spanking him even
more. Would Butch demand to meet him somewhere else? Would he take him
somewhere private for his punishment? Surely, he wouldn't spank him there
for all to see! His erection hardened even more as he imagined the
possibilities.

Inside the Planet newsroom, Butch had just turned his attentions from Cat
Grant to Lois Lane when the big window flew open. (It was one of only two
windows in the modern building that actually opened. One was known only to
Superman and a few of the others who knew his identity, and was located in
the storeroom where he often changed clothes. It was where he would then
take flight as the Man of Steel. He had secretly installed it himself to
allow quick egress. The other window was known by all. When the new Daily
Planet facility was built five years earlier, the powers-that-be wisely
recognized that to maintain the paper's well-known association with the
hero, he still needed to be able to fly in through the window, even though
the other windows would not open. So they included this window with a
heat-sensitive switch that could be activated by Superman's heat vision.)

Superman flew through the window, which automatically closed moments after
he cleared the threshold. He stood with his hands on his hips, as was his
wont.

"I believe I was summoned," he said heroically.

"Yeah, Superman," sneered Butch derisively. "You and me have some business
to finish up!"

Everyone present snickered to themselves, knowing exactly what he
meant. That included Damon Whitlock and Mario Gonzalez, the two teenaged
mail clerks who had months before discovered the hero changing into his
costume and had since spanked him numerous times in the basement of the
building.

"And how would you propose we finish that up?" demanded Superman, trying
unsuccessfully to act as though he wasn't afraid. "Would you care to go
somewhere private?" he asked hopefully.

"No, we can take care of it right here and now." Superman's heart
sank. Would all these people witness his shame? They all were indeed hoping
to witness his shame.

Superman stood stoically as the bully stepped up to him and ran his knuckle
down the hero's front, from his sternum to his crotch. The obvious tent in
his briefs became even more pronounced. A shiver went through his muscular
body.

The powerful, young bully reached up and unfastened Superman's cape, which
fell to the floor.  Superman trembled. That simple act had made him feel
more exposed and vulnerable.

Everyone was transfixed on the hero and the bully as Butch walked around
behind the motionless Man of Steel. Were they about to witness what they
had only heard of and gossiped about previously? Would Superman actually
allow himself to be spanked? Could this young man really hurt him? Or would
he show his strength and put the bully in his place?

To their amazement, Superman stood submissively as the young man delivered
a hard slap to the hero's round bottom. His bottom jiggled and he winced
noticeably. But he did nothing to resist or protest. He breathed in deeply,
expanding his chest, but keeping his gaze straight forward, and stood
obediently as Butch landed another swat to his bottom, one that resounded
throughout the room. Then came another, and another. Still, the Man of
Steel stood and took the punishment willingly. His lower lip trembled and
he grimaced slightly with each blow. His bottom, still hurting from his
previous spanking, was exceptionally sensitive to Butch's powerful slaps.

Butch continued spanking the submissive hero for nearly five minutes before
he paused to unbuckle the yellow belt and pull the red briefs down below
his crotch, revealing not only the roundness of his bottom, but the swollen
outline of his erection as well.

Neither Superman nor the attendant audience could believe that Butch was
actually doing this in front of everyone.

Superman gasped slightly and trembled visibly as the bully cupped his
large, powerful hand on the hero's shapely bottom and rested it there
momentarily before hauling back and giving Superman another series of
quick, hard slaps. Superman winced even more. His jaw tightened and his
forward-gaze intensified, showing that he was steeling himself for more
punishment.  Butch obliged and delivered another string of stinging blows
to the hero's pliable bottom.  Superman tightened his lips and closed his
eyes in response to the pain. Yet he did not move. He stood compliantly as
Butch continued to spank him.

Just over fifteen minutes into the spanking, Butch pushed Superman's briefs
down to his knees and lowered his tight, blue pants down just below his
bottom in back. The beautiful, round bottom was glowing red. In the front,
his rock-hard erection pushed the tights out shamelessly. A small drop of
pre-ejaculate had appeared at the tip of his penis, staining the thin, blue
fabric.  Butch continued to spank him.

Superman was now making little, guttural noises in response to each
slap. The blows were stinging, relentless, and now coming faster and harder
than ever. No one present could take their eyes off the amazing body which
was being punished so intensely.

Eventually, Butch pushed the red briefs all the way down to Superman's
ankles and pulled his blue shirt up just above his sculpted abs. The bully
continued to spank the soft, smooth flesh of his stinging bottom. Superman
was starting to emit an occasional sniffle, along with the now frequent
"uh," "oh," and "ow!" Still he stood obediently and accepted the punishment
stoically.

Finally, Butch stopped and said, "I think it's time we found someplace with
just a bit more privacy. Does someone care to assist me in spanking this
big, helpless hunk of useless muscle?  Maybe you two..." he said, pointing
to Damon and Mario, the two teen mail clerks who were looking on with
particular relish. The two boys stepped forward eagerly.

"You grab his cape," said Butch to Damon. "And you help him to follow me,"
he said, indicating Mario. Superman did indeed need help walking, since his
briefs were still bunched up at his ankles with the yellow belt adding even
more restriction to his movements.

They took the hapless Man of Steel to a conference room with a large glass
window. As Butch had said, it offered only a bit more privacy, as the
spectators gathered in front of the big window and watched intently.

Once inside, they led Superman to a large, heavy, oak conference table, his
back to the window, and had him lean forward with his hands on the
table. On the other side of the table, Mario leaned across and held the
hero's wrists in a tight grip while Damon knelt behind him and held his
ankles. Then Butch started spanking him again. As he did, a tear escaped
Superman's eye and streamed down his handsome face. Butch just kept
spanking him. Butch pummeled the dimpled, pliable bottom fiercely and it,
in response, jiggled and shook with each blow.

When he paused, Damon released his vice-like grip on Superman's ankles long
enough to slide the blue pants down to the hero's knees. Although the
audience couldn't see it, Superman's penis sprang forth completely erect
when it was released from the confines of his tights. His stinging bottom
continued to glow a bright red. Damon also raised the shirt up to where it
rested just below his armpits, revealing his erect nipples. Superman
continued to lean compliantly against the table as Butch resumed his
spanking. More tears were appearing as well as a little bit of snot from
his nostrils. The drop of pre-ejaculate on the tip of his erect penis was
growing bigger.  Butch spanked him as hard as ever and the hero's grunts
were turning into audible whining and whimpering. Superman hung his head in
shame, but Mario reached up and grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to
look straight forward. He patted the helpless hero on the cheek, which was
now wet with tears, and then returned his hand to hold his wrist.

Superman was sobbing and his chest was heaving as Butch resumed spanking
him. The slaps rang out loud and sharp inside the conference room although,
from the other side of the window, they sounded more like dull thuds. It
was not only intensely painful, but also extremely humiliating as the
office staff watched his beautiful, vulnerable body being punished.

Until now, Superman's spankings had been largely private affairs between
him and his spankers and had only been rumored, although the rumors were
widely circulated and believed by almost everyone. But now his closest
friends could see the truth. He was so ashamed of himself.

Superman's spanking had been going on for three quarters of an hour, and
now he was crying full out. Tears stained his beautiful, contorted
face. His tender, red bottom ached from the punishment. His raging erection
never abated, and the drop of pre-ejaculate only continued to grow.

Butch stopped spanking and said to Damon, "Take off his briefs now," which
Damon did. Butch continued spanking, as the two teens held his wrists and
ankles, and Superman continued crying.

Outside the conference room window, Jimmy had begun surreptitiously taking
existing light photos, and Lois was wondering how she could write this into
a story. Steve Lombard had his phone out and was taking a video of it.

Meanwhile, Butch's large right hand—surprisingly smooth and soft for
such a rough-hewn guy—kept pummeling the Man of Steel's beautiful,
shapely bottom.

Superman was bawling and the tears and snot covered his face, as the
pre-ejaculate covered the tip of his penis.

After about ten minutes more, Butch removed Superman's boots and pushed his
tight pants down to his ankles. Butch made him stand up straight and clasp
his hands behind his head. Then he continued spanking him in that position.

Superman tried his hardest to be obedient and not move around, but the pain
in his bottom was so severe that he couldn't help but shift his hips and
alternately flex and relax his bottom.  Whenever he did, Butch would spank
him all the harder. He howled and blubbered. The redness in his bottom was
growing deeper and brighter.

So weak was he that Damon had to assist him in lifting first one foot and
then the other so he could slip off his pants. Now, Superman was naked from
his chest down. Butch continued the relentless spanking. The spanking the
bully had given him last night was nothing compared to this one.

It was always humiliating whenever Superman got his bottom spanked. But
having it done in front of his friends and coworkers was especially
demeaning and embarrassing. He was so ashamed of himself. This only served
to make him cry harder.

Varying thoughts streamed through the minds of those watching his
punishment.

Jimmy thought, "I can't believe I finally get to see this
happening. Superman told me about it, but to actually see it is amazing."

Lois mused, "The big lug deserves every bit of punishment he receives."

Perry was thinking, "I really need to end this so everyone can get back to
work...but I can't stop watching it myself."

Steve's thought was, "I wonder if I could give Superman a spanking...I'd be
really hot stuff if I could."

Cat was thinking, "I want this guy to give me a spanking on my oh, so
naughty behind!"

Superman, on the other hand was in too much agony to be capable of any
coherent thought.

What was truly amazing was Superman's ability to be spanked. His
super-human body was capable of doing all sorts of things impossible to
normal people. And the ability to take a spanking was no different. The way
he became so submissive and obedient, not trying to resist or escape his
punishment. The way he became as weak as a little boy. The way his bottom
glowed bright red, a shade no human could duplicate when spanked. The way
it was hyper-sensitive and stung so intensely. How all that punishment
could put him in such extreme agony and yet not do damage to his body. The
way his penis was rock hard and oozing pre-ejaculate the entire time.

The way he cried incessantly, yet never became dehydrated. And how his
spanker's arm never got tired or his hand sore. It was as though Superman's
body was made to be spanked.

Butch pulled the hero's blue shirt up over his head and let it rest behind
his neck. Then he went on spanking him. Superman went on crying.

Butch moved his hand around to cover every bit of the Man of Steel's
tender, round bottom. He got the dimpled areas on the sides, and even moved
forward to include the hips. He punished the sloped area on top. He pulled
the cheeks apart and spanked inside the crevice. And now he was
concentrating on the underneath side—the "sit-spot"—and was making
that extremely sensitive area sting as much as the rest of his bottom.

Superman's spanking had been going on for well over an hour and a
quarter. Butch pulled the blue shirt completely over the hero's head and
down his arms until it bunched at his wrists.  Mario held his hands out
forward from his body in a tight grasp so that the garment stayed in
place. Then Butch resumed the spanking.

For about ten more minutes, Butch continued to pummel Superman's tender,
stinging bottom before he stopped and removed the shirt from his
wrists. Now the Man of Steel was completely naked. Butch spanked him as
hard as ever. He cried uncontrollably. Tears streamed down his face. His
penis remained rock hard.

Not a word was spoken among the assembled viewers. They were enthralled at
the sight of the world's strongest man, the hero they had always admired,
now standing naked and crying and being punished like a naughty, little
boy. There had always been rumors and speculation about such sessions, but
here was confirmation before their very eyes.

Eventually, Butch had the two teens help the blubbering hero up onto the
conference table, face down. His erect penis pressed against the oak top,
wetting it with the clear, viscous fluid of his pre-ejaculate. His bottom
glowed. His arms were extended forward. Mario again held his wrists and
Damon his ankles. Butch started in once again spanking him. Superman
continued to cry, pouring tears down onto the expensive tabletop.

Everyone outside the conference room window was thinking the same thing.
"We need to disinfect that table before we have another meeting in there."
Perry was wondering if there was money in the budget to replace it.

But the spanking and crying continued, unabated.

After about twenty minutes of spanking the naked, bawling hunk on the
table, Butch had the two teen boys help Superman onto his feet. Superman
stood at rigid attention, his penis pointing out and up, still covered with
the sticky goo of his pre-ejaculate. He continued to blubber and bawl, his
face coated with tears and snot. His bottom was deep, bright red. His
massive chest quaked with his relentless sobs. Butch spanked him in this
position for about fifteen minutes.

Finally, Butch stopped spanking. Superman was a blubbering mess. The
spanking had lasted well over two hours.

"Now," announced Butch, "I think you've learned that you're not such hot
shit!" Superman was crying too hard to respond.

Butch opened the door and stepped out into the newsroom. The small crowd
parted to make way for him. "So what are you assholes staring at?" he
sneered. Everyone gulped and tried to look nonchalant and invisible. With
that, the bully headed toward the elevator and was gone.

Superman remained, naked and at attention inside the conference room. Mario
and Damon sat with him for a while, until Perry ordered them back to
work. Slowly, the crowd dispersed.  Superman stood there, crying but not
moving, for about a half an hour longer. Various Planet employees would
walk by the conference room window during that time to get one more look at
the pathetic hero. When they did, Perry would bark at them, "Back to work!"

Eventually, Perry whispered something to Jimmy, who went inside the
conference room and gathered up Superman's costume. He helped the bawling
Man of Steel to Perry's office, where he was laid face down on the large,
plush, black leather sofa. Superman was allowed to lie there and cry for
several hours.

At last, Perry told him that he needed to leave. He got up, no longer
crying, but still sniffling and gingerly put his costume sloppily back
on. Then he walked, his face red from both embarrassment and crying,
through the newsroom. Everyone tried not to stare, but they did anyway.
Being too weak to fly, Superman headed for the elevator instead of the
window and was gone. The Planet staff slowly got back to work.

Clark Kent never made it back to work that afternoon. Everyone understood.