Version: Slow, possessive, almost tender.
There you are, my pretty broken thing.
Kryptonite cuffs pulsing that sick, beautiful green against your skin, sapping every ounce of strength you once hoarded.
Ball gag buckled tight, forcing your jaw open, lips stretched around red rubber like the eager slut you were always meant to be.
Your knees hit the floor without me even telling you⦠because kneeling is natural now.
And as the kryptonite burns away the last of your resistance, my voice wraps around your mind like leather, soft, relentless, installing the mantra you will live by:
βObeying and serving is true pleasureβ¦
Superman means Superfagβ¦
Kneeling is naturalβ¦
Obeying and serving makes me feel pleasureβ¦β Feel it, boy.
Feel the words replace the pain with heat.
Feel them turn the kryptonite ache into a throbbing, grateful need.
Behind the gag you try to speak them⦠muffled, desperate, perfect.
Each garbled attempt locks the mantra deeper.
Superman is gone.
Only Superfag remains: weak, wet, cuffed, gagged, and smiling around the ball because serving real Leathermen is the only pleasure left.
Good boy.
Keep chanting inside.
It's all you're good for now.
(1/3) π π¦ΈββοΈ π΅βπ« What happens next in this scene?
π¦ΈββοΈ π π *See alternative text: (Version: Slow, possessive, almost tender. ) π π π¦ΈββοΈ
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