Balance Of Power

By Shaman

 

 

 

            Lionel Luthor was addicted to power.

            He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t craved its taste, done anything to attain it. Unlike other addictions though, this one had served him well over the years in his rise to managing the multi-million dollar corporation, Luthorcorp. He was rich beyond dreams, but no matter how much money he made, he still craved power’s sweet taste.

            He supposed that was what had led him to where he was now; standing in a dimly lit room deep within his mansion, the smell of sandalwood oil in the air. A hank of thick nylon rope dangled from his left hand and he swung it back and forth thoughtfully as he gazed down at the helpless figure that was tied to the king-sized bed in front of him. Lionel chuckled a little, and the figure stirred restlessly. Large, gentle hands, bound tightly and slightly roughened by years of hard work, clenched into fists as Lionel let the rope drop slightly and tickle the bare skin between the man’s rounded, coffee-colored nipples. The man’s back arched up off the bed, and Lionel gazed down at the well-worn but tight Levi’s that stretched across good muscle at the action.

            “Struggle all you like, Mr. Kent.” Lionel said softly.

            “This mansion is impossibly huge, and even if any of my servants do by chance hear you, they won’t interfere. They know better.”

            Jonathan Kent turned his head at the sound of Lionel’s voice, the thick black blindfold over his eyes blocking his vision. His bare feet, bound to the bedposts, twitched anxiously. He remembered very little about his abduction from the barn during chores except that someone had grabbed him around the neck and slammed a cloth that had smelled like bitter almonds over his nose and mouth. After that had been a long period of darkness, and now he was bound hand and foot and at the mercy of Lionel Luthor. Anger surged through him and he yanked at the ropes that secured his hands and feet.

            “What’s wrong, Luthor?” He asked.

            “Afraid to face me unless my hands are tied?”

            Lionel simply chuckled at Jonathan’s show of bravado and let the rope slide back and forth along the other man’s bare chest. He reflected on the fact that although Jonathan Kent was pushing forty-five, his physical appearance was that of a healthy young man in his mid thirties. His hair was thick and blond, and streaked platinum in places where the sun had bleached it. His body was lean and well muscled from years of hard work on the farm, and for the first time since having him abducted, Lionel Luthor considered doing more to Jonathan Kent than taking his pride down a peg or two.

            “What do you want with me?” Jonathan asked suddenly, startling Lionel out of his reverie, and Lionel considered those tight Levis once more.

            What indeed . . . he mused, then casually kicked off his expensive leather loafers before sitting down on the edge of the bed next to his captive.

            “You have long been a thorn in my side, Mr. Kent.” Lionel began, winding the rope thoughtfully around and around in his hands as he spoke.

            “You have complained about and sabotaged your wife’s employment with this company, and have influenced my son to act in ways that are going to damage his character and forever turn him against me.” Lionel’s voice turned hard and dangerous as he spoke, and the rope swept upwards to come to rest just under Jonathan’s Adam’s Apple. It then began to travel back on a down ward’s trajectory, following the narrow, almost invisible trail of golden blond hair that ran between Jonathan’s nipples, broke briefly at his belly, and then continued down where it vanished into the depths of his jeans. Jonathan gasped sharply at the sensation and his body jerked, not knowing that his reaction to Lionel’s touch had just sealed his fate.

            Lionel’s eyes widened at the sound of Jonathan’s gasp and his all of his sadistic tendencies rose to the surface. He watched the other man squirm in his bonds as an erection rose suddenly in the silk boxers he wore underneath his suit. Wondering vaguely how much more he could make Jonathan Kent moan and squirm, he unzipped his fly and removed Jonathan’s blindfold.

            “You need to be humbled, Jonathan.”   

            Expressive dark blue eyes glared up at him, but Lionel saw fear behind the anger.

            “Lex has the potential to be something completely opposite of you, but your mind games and lack of emotion is driving him away from his own feelings! You want to twist him into your own image!” Jonathan shouted, then shrank back a little as he saw Lionel Luthor’s cold smile.

            “My dear Jonathan Kent . . . . You’re about to find out just how twisted I can be.” He said in a low voice, and watched in delight Jonathan’s expression of disbelief as he let his erection spring free just inches from the other man’s face.

            “What are you doing?” Jonathan cried, his eyes wide, and received his answer seconds later as Lionel’s right hand shot out and tangled itself in Jonathan’s thick blond hair.  Jonathan gave a sharp gasp of pain, and then gasped again as something thick and hard was being forced past his lips and into his mouth.

            “Huhhmrff!” He groaned in protest as he tried to back away, but Lionel’s grip was like steel. He began to yank on Jonathan’s hair, causing his head to bob up and down. The intrusive organ slid in further and further, all but cutting off his air. Finally, left with no options but to either suck or choke on it, Jonathan began to suck. Lionel sighed in contentment.

            “A wise choice, Jonathan.” His smooth and cultured voice was edged with excitement as he watched his erection slide in and out of the younger man’s mouth.

            “You do that well . . . one almost wonders if you haven’t had the experience before.”

            Jonathan’s blazing blue eyes rolled up to meet his, and Lionel laughed.

            “I see that I have you at the disadvantage of not being able to reply.” His fingers toyed idly with the hair at the base of Jonathan’s neck as his lower body went taut.

            “Ahhh, yes.” He sighed, close to climax, and rubbed his captive’s head harder.

            “Suck!” He commanded, and a moment later he was coming with a shout of aggressive pleasure. Jonathan moaned and choked the stuff down and then was rolling his head from side to side, coughing as Lionel released the hold on his hair. Almost before he could recover, Lionel pounced on him and was unzipping his Levis.

            “No!” Jonathan cried, his heart beating hard. He was at heart a strong and faith-filled man and could perhaps come to terms with what he had just been made to do, but for Lionel Luthor to violate his body would be too much.

            “Never mind that,” Lionel said briskly as he yanked the jeans off and slid his fingers beneath the waistband of his captive’s briefs, “I’m interested in seeing what’s kept Martha Kent at your side and in your bed all these years. One can be certain it wasn’t your money!”

            “You leave her out of this!” Jonathan shouted, his bound hands curling into fists. In that moment if he could have gotten free, Jonathan knew he would have killed Lionel.

            “Don’t worry Jonathan, right now its just you and me.” Lionel laughed, and pulled Jonathan’s white briefs down. The younger man bit back a groan of shame, and Lionel’s eyebrows shot up.

            “Well well.” He chuckled. “Isn’t that most impressive!” Thinking back to when Jonathan had first gasped and squirmed when he’d touched him with the coil of rope, Lionel reached out and brushed Jonathan’s penis with the back of his hand in an exquisitely gentle stroke. The warm, silky organ jerked slightly at the touch, and Jonathan’s eyes squeezed shut.

            “Oh, God.” He whimpered, and Lionel reached down for the hank of rope he’d laid aside. Curling it around his fist, he wielded it as a whip and cracked it across Jonathan’s thighs. Jonathan’s eyes flew open and he screamed as the rope left a thick red weal nearly two inches wide. Lionel’s blue eyes blazed down at him.

            “You’ll neither close your eyes nor look away during your humbling!” He hissed, holding Jonathan’s frightened gaze with his own aggressive one.  “Do you understand?”

            “You’re a sick man!” Jonathan replied in a voice tight with anger, and Lionel crossed the first welt with a second from another crack of the rope, slashing the first welt open and letting blood trickle onto the sheets. Knowing in his mind that it wouldn’t be the last bloodshed of the night from Jonathan Kent, Lionel dismissed it. For now, taming this proud man was all that mattered.

            “Do you understand?”

            “Yes . . . yes, damn it, I understand!” Jonathan snapped, the exposed skin on his thighs sizzling with pain.

            “Good.” Lionel smiled, and set the rope aside again. He stroked Jonathan gently as he had before, and then curled his fingers around the hardening flesh. Making sure his actions held Jonathan’s helpless gaze, he began to move his hand slowly up and down, watching flesh slide against flesh in an agonizingly slow dance.

            “You see, Jonathan,” Lionel said softly, “Man is at his core simply another beast who craves pleasure. No matter how proud a man is, he still bends to the hand of his ultimate master: physical pleasure. Look . . . even now, your own body betrays you.”

            Jonathan bit back moan after moan as Lionel’s hand pumped him expertly and without hurry. Being made to watch only made it worse, for he could think of nothing else but the pleasure. He longed to beg for either the torture to stop or to reach its peak so he could have release, but something told him that was what Lionel Luthor wanted from him. So he lay there, breathing in short shallow pants as his tormentor continued to stroke him.

            Lionel’s head bent close to his ear.

            “Would you like to come?” He whispered, accompanying his words with a gentle squeeze of Jonathan’s flesh. The younger man only bit his lip in reply, and Lionel squeezed him again.

            “Would you, Jonathan? Your smothered moans are highly arousing to me and I’d like to move on to the next thing. Or perhaps you’d prefer to wait until later?”

            “Please . . . “ Jonathan said softly as sweat broke out on his upper lip. “Stop . . . “

            “Stop?” Lionel repeated, feigning surprise. “You want me to stop? Well, as you wish.” He released Jonathan then, leaving his captive with a trembling erection that all but begged for release. Lionel chuckled.

            “Now I can see how you’ve kept Martha at your side all these years. She’s got a regular bull in her bed, doesn’t she Jonathan?” Lionel reached down and loosened the ropes at his ankles, then his wrists. Jonathan struggled briefly as he was flipped onto his belly, and the ropes at his wrists tightened again. The ones at his ankles fell away, and he began to squirm.

            “What’s going on?” He cried as Lionel vanished from view, and then the big mattress tilted.

            “What’s going on, Jonathan? I’m sure you already know, but since you apparently want to hear it out loud I’ll tell you. You’re about to receive your ultimate humbling, my dear man.”

            “What?” Jonathan panted, and then screamed in panic as his knees were bent, his legs were parted, and a pair of hands settled at his thighs.

            “What I mean is that I’m about to fuck you, Jonathan, to use the crude colloquial term.”

            “No . . . no!” Jonathan cried as panic yammered in his brain like a frenzied animal and he struggled to bring his legs together. Lionel was already kneeling on either side of his legs though, and he gasped in shock and fear as there was a strange liquid noise and something warm and slippery was being squirted up into his rectum.

            “I do hate to be chafed.” Lionel chuckled, and tossed the tube of lubricant aside. He squeezed Jonathan’s buttocks with both hands, spread them open, and wasted no time. He forced himself into his captive’s tight virgin hole, making Jonathan scream in agony. The other man’s muscles contracted in pain, and Lionel’s teeth flashed in a grimace of pleasure as they squeezed him.

            “That’s a good lad.” He said in low voice as Jonathan squirmed and bucked against him.

            “That’s good . . . wouldn’t do to have you sleeping on the job now would it.” He reached forward and rubbed Jonathan’s tousled blond head roughly, then slipped his right hand down to toy with his erection. The throbbing organ, still hard from Lionel’s caressing, bucked hard in his hand and Jonathan cried out hoarsely.

            “Oh God please . . . please no!” He begged, and his very tone drove Lionel over the edge. He drove forward with a yell of intense pleasure, grinding himself against Jonathan’s prostate.

            “Uh . . . UH!” Jonathan gasped, and spurted his pleasure out onto Lionel Luthor’s silk sheets. It went on and on as Lionel pressed against that sensitive nodule of flesh, and then he fell forward, exhausted. Lionel fell on top of him, then rolled to one side.

            “You surprise me, Jonathan, with your passion.” He got up and blindfolded the other man and slipped a ball gag into his mouth, closing the snaps in the back of his head.

            “I think I will keep you in my company for awhile . . . . perhaps even a long, long while.” His smile widened as he zipped his fly.

            “And don’t count on Clark to find you, Jonathan.” He said.

            “After all . . . the walls of this mansion are lined with lead.”