DONT RESCUE ME, PART 1 The balance of power tilts even more.
By Elrohir, Elrohir57@gmail.com
He was in an exquisite Hell, until he was taken away by force.


Stanley and his wife Debra had been looking forward to this event all year,
and it was only two weeks away. They were going to GenCon, the
fantasy/superhero/cosplay convention held every year at the Indianapolis
Convention Center: He was going to look lean and mean in his Star Wars costume
as Jabba the Hutt's slave master, while Debra always looked sexy as hell in
her Princess Leia slave bikini, its skimpy copper bra top and the two long
flaps of fabric hanging from the front and back of the tiny bikini bottoms
serving as a half-assed skirt that really covered almost nothing. The bikini
accentuated her dangerous hourglass curves and barely contained a bust that
Carrie Fisher could only have dreamed about. The 12-inch wide "skirt" swung
back and forth, playing peekaboo with the bikini bottoms, which barely covered
her round, hard ass but completely exposed her best feature, those gorgeous
long legs she had so carefully sculpted with so many hours in the gym.

To the casual observer her strength and muscularity might not have been
readily apparent: She did not keep to a low-fat diet, in order to keep from
losing those bodacious breasts and soft, smooth skin that gave her the
feminine look which garnered so much attention. She had gained some notoriety
from appearing in local advertising media as a plus-size model, bearing some
resemblance to Hunter McGrady who had recently appeared in the Sports
Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, although at 5'11" Hunter was 2 inches taller
than Debra. Many people incorrectly equated "plus-size" with "fat", which was
certainly not true of Debra. She wasn't fat, she was just big in all the right
places, and whenever her muscles went into in action they expanded
exponentially in size and shape. Her explosive power became plainly visible at
such times, as in the thrice weekly mixed martial arts classes where lately
she had come to dominate all the women in the group and most of the men,
including some of the larger ones. She had an easy confidence and a mean,
aggressive attitude that intimidated many of her opponents before their
sparring even started.

Stanley kept one of Debra's more artistic modeling photos in his wallet for
bragging purposes: It was of her in the nude but taken from the side: she was
stretching forward in a kind of lunge position with her hands and feet on the
floor and one leg extended back, her nipples artfully concealed behind her
extended arms but with her breasts otherwise visible. Her legs and ass seemed
massive but were in perfect proportion to the rest of her, and in the photo
the groove between her quad and hamstring muscles was deeply pronounced,
displaying the size and strength of each one. A mass of wavy brown curls
cascading down across her shoulders accentuated her soft, sexy femininity
which was in stark contrast to her powerful muscularity.

This was going to be the one time each year when Debra deigned to allow
Stanley him to at least LOOK like he was the one in in charge, the person who
wore the pants in the family, when in fact the opposite was true. For GenCon
she looked every bit the imprisoned slave princess: Her brown hair would be
done up in perfect Leia style, her hands shackled just like in the movie, with
a long chain attached a collar around her neck, the other end of which she
allowed Slave "Master" Stanley to hold (he was just thankful she hadn't made
him dress as Jabba the Hut). He loved being able to jerk that chain a little
and lead HER around for a change, even though he knew it was just pretend.

They had worn the same costumes for several years, so they weren't
particularly new or creative, but every year they drew an impressive amount of
attention owing not only to Debra's eye-popping, goddess-like appearance but
also to Stanley's diminutive boyish good looks: He was a small man at 5'5",
but as such he was perfectly formed, with a trim athletic body, smooth
hairless chest, a firm butt, and a handsome youthful looking face. Many Men
and women openly ogled them both on stage in the costume contests, some
catcalling and whistling at them appreciatively. They seldom won, but the
attention they received made Stanley feel validated and manly, something Debra
never did for him. At home she ruled him with an iron fist, and she never let
him forget it.

It hadn't always been quite so one sided, at least not in the beginning:
they'd had a more or less equal relationship back then. They both adored and
respected each other, or so it had seemed to him at the time. Gradually,
however, she had taken control of their relationship and then taken over
almost every facet of his life. Whenever he reflected back on it he struggled
to understand just how she had gained the upper hand so completely. He
supposed that at first it was her increasing expressions of general
disappointment with him which hurt, demoralized and depressed him so much
because he loved Debra so deeply and would do anything to please her, and
continued to try to do so even though she seldom rewarded him for it.

As time went on, her disappointment eventually gave way to open contempt and
vitriolic hostility, especially whenever he made an actual mistake or merely
did something of which she did not approve. This would inevitably lead to her
making new rules, ostensibly to prevent further problems but which he was
beginning to believe were actually to further restrict, manipulate and
subjugate him. As someone once said, the person with the least love in a
relationship was the one who had the most power, because she could make
unilateral decisions and act on them without regard to his feelings, forcing
him to either accept them and maintain relative harmony or oppose her and get
sucked into a heated argument which would result in bad feelings between them
for days or even weeks afterward. He would inevitably end up caving in to her.
Having secured her victory, she would then somehow make it his fault for
having childishly challenged her eminently reasonable position, for which he
would deserve even more punishment. He thus learned to pick his battles
carefully in order to maintain peace between them, not realizing that in so
doing he was continually, inexorably losing ground as time wore on. Eventually
he felt like he was walking on eggshells around her most of the time.

She took over handling the bank account when he bounced a check by a mistake.
When he got a ticket for running a red light, she took over driving the car,
at least whenever they went anywhere together. He once hit a small stump with
the riding mower and damaged the blade, so as a result he was not allowed on
it ever again: She did all the riding mower work while he was relegated to
trimming with the push mower, and If for some reason she couldn't get around
to doing the riding part, he had to use the push mower to do the entire yard,
which was exhausting not to mention humiliating, like he was a small child who
could not be trusted with dangerous machinery. Every perceived failure on his
part led to her exacting some emotional penalty that involved the permanent
loss of some small part of his power in the relationship. After some years it
seemed there was almost no part of his life that wasn't completely subject to
her rules and her will.

He didn't see it coming, but on this night her final coup d'etat would begin,
on that most intimate of battlefields, the marital bed. Stanley had always
been a generous and attentive lover: He loved lots of foreplay because he
loved Debra and worshipped her gorgeous, bodacious body. At 5'9" and about 150
pounds she was bigger and taller than Stanley who stood 5'5" and weighed 130.
She had big shoulders and big boobs to match, but her torso tapered down to a
smallish wasp waist that flared out to wide, sturdy hips and a prominent
round, firm ass that you could bounce a quarter on. Even with all that other
sumptuous pulchritude, perhaps her best feature was her legs: long, curvaceous
columns of velvet covered iron muscle, massive solid thighs perched atop
diamond shaped calves supported by long, strong feet.

In the beginning Debra really enjoyed his constant shower of attention. His
total worship of her body often went on so long and made her so aroused that
eventually in feverish frustration she would order him to stop kissing,
licking or sucking and JUST PUT IT IN, ALREADY! He always threw himself into
that task with gusto, and considered himself well-endowed and athletic. No
matter how long and hard he tried, however, she never seemed to be satisfied
until she had outlasted him, watching his face as it contorted with the
intense passion of his climax, chuckling with satisfaction when he cried out
in orgasmic agony and completely expended himself into her, after which he
would collapse on top of her, his face lolling over her shoulder in exhausted
defeat. For a few long moments she'd savor the feeling of knowing that with
ease she had taken everything he could give her, which made her even hornier.
Stanley often fell immediately into an exhausted sleep, but sometimes would
just be lying there trying to get his breath back when she smacked him hard on
the ass and told him to get to work. He knew what that meant, and would slink
down to the gaping maw of her Vaginus Flytrap and begin hungrily eating her,
like a man about to be executed eats his last meal, knowing he'd better give
her everything she wanted or else there would be hell to pay.

Debra would never admit it to him how much she loved his long, thick tongue
and what it could do for her. She loved his cunnilingus even more than his
lovemaking, and she made him kiss, lick, and suck every part of her body
before, during, and after sex ... that is, if they made it all the way to
actual intercourse before she was done. Quite often she reached a thundering
climax from just his oral ministrations, and on those occasions she became so
relaxed and so spent that she often dozed off, and would be quite the angry
she-bear if he tried to awaken her. Several times early on in their marriage,
he had tried to both please her and claim some satisfaction for himself by
making plaintive requests for a mutually satisfying 69. After enough of that
she grudgingly acquiesced just to shut him up; but they would begin the mutual
genital kiss only to find that she became so focused on what he was doing to
her that she completely lost track of her part of the deal. She would suddenly
come, hard, letting his throbbing member slip from her mouth as she screamed
out her paroxysms of ecstasy, after which she usually blissfully collapsed,
unable to continue. Each time he was left there frustrated, his passion
unrequited until she fell asleep and he could slip out of bed and into the
bathroom to finish himself off. The last time this happened, however, she had
dozed but then awakened and walked into the loo to pee only to find him
feverishly doing his best to relieve his tension. It was a few moments before
he noticed she was there and, shocked and blushing with embarrassment, he
stopped what he was doing and tried to hide himself, but she just laughed. She
mockingly warned "You'd better be thinking about ME when you do that, and you
BETTER clean it up afterward!" She walked off to use the other bathroom,
derisively cackling all the way. He never asked her for a 69 again after that.

Over time Debra had been growing restless and bored with their regular weekend
lovemaking sessions, and on this fateful night while Stanley was giving it to
her with everything he had, Debra's expression increasingly became one of
unease even though she was clearly still aroused. Stanley dutifully tried
everything he could to make it good for her, varying his rhythm, angle of
attack, and the force of his thrusts, but still she seemed frustrated and on
edge. She suddenly looked him dead in the eye and growled with irritation. In
one swift motion she hooked her ankle over the back of his leg, grabbed both
his wrists and wrenched them out from under him, rolling him onto his side.
She rolled with him, using their momentum to turn him onto his back so that
she came out on top with his member still buried deep inside her. She forced
his wrists down on either side of his head and stared hotly into his eyes with
a fury he'd never seen before.

"YEAH! THIS IS MORE LIKE IT!" she roared, "I'M DRIVIN' THIS BUS NOW, BABY!"
She began angrily riding him up and down, up and down, pounding his hips into
the bed so hard it began to hurt him. Up and down, up and down she went in a
hard regular rhythm like she was riding a bucking bronco, and it sent electric
sensations through him that were unlike anything he'd ever felt with his own
thrusting. The pleasure was intense for both of them, and soon from his loud
involuntary moaning it was obvious that it would not be long before he would
lose control and blow his load.

Sensing his impending explosion, she suddenly stopped riding him up and down
and paused, just sitting there, grinning and looking into his eyes with a
smoldering look. Then, gently, almost imperceptibly at first, she very slowly
began thrusting her hips forward and back, forward and back, then faster,
forward and back, and then harder and faster still, forward and back, until
eventually she was violently slamming his member back and forth inside her so
hard it really did hurt, his cries of ecstasy now mixed with pain. That was
when the REAL fun began for her: "OH YEAH! YEAH! YEAH BABY!" she bellowed,
thrusting so rapidly and so hard he was afraid she was going to rip his love
pillar off at the base. "AW YEAH! CAN YOU HANDLE MAMA FUCKING YA? HA! YEAH!
THAT'S IT! I'M TAKIN' EVERYTHING YOU GOT, YOU BIG DICKED BASTARD, I'M TAKIN'
ALL OF IT!"

She grabbed the headboard and continued thrusting at a rapid, steady pace for
what seemed like forever, her stamina seemingly endless, her eyes locked onto
his, grinning with satisfaction as she watched his face contort in pain and
pleasure while he continued to moan uncontrollably. Her thrusting shoved him
up the bed until he had to push against the headboard to keep his head from
striking it. He could not take his eyes away from hers; she kept him
mesmerized by staring hotly into his eyes while she kept up that hard, regular
rhythm that was driving him to insane distraction. Her pace began to increase
even more, the tension in her body increasing so that she was vibrating with
every thrust. She was about to come, he could tell, but still her gaze never
wavered from his.

Suddenly, however, she broke eye contact and threw her head back, screaming
"AAAAAGH!" as her contractions began, radiating through her pelvis out through
her body to where even her skin seemed to be vibrating. At that moment for her
Stanley ceased to exist; he became no more than a sex toy, a human dildo. Her
violent thrusts quickly became rapid fire like a machine gun as she drove
herself over the edge, the slamming of the hard shaft inside her making her
moan in ecstasy as it struck her clit and then her G-spot. When her orgasm
came It washed over her in waves so intense she barely noticed Stanley crying
out with his own climax, arching his back and screaming like a pitiful wounded
animal being slaughtered by a predator, her massive contractions forcing his
abused cock and balls to disgorge all their contents at once. He cried out in
pain and release as his body shook with its own contractions, until finally
his love serpent began dry heaving, every drop of essence having been forced
out of it. With his essence and energy completely expended, his tension
suddenly dissipated and he collapsed into a near stupor of emotional
exhaustion, his eyes glassy and unfocused, his consciousness overwhelmed by
what she had done to him. It was perhaps the most intense orgasm they had ever
experienced, or ever would experience, together.

When she had come back to herself, she sat there looking down at his exhausted
expression and chuckled. His love wand was seriously expended but nevertheless
still hard inside her. She had rocked his world and she knew it, and when he
opened his eyes and looked up at her she went into a double bicep pose,
exaggeratedly proclaiming her sexual mastery over him. She then placed both
hands behind her neck, her elbows extended out like wings above her head, and
did her best stripper bump move, exploding her hips forward in one lightning
thrust. POW!

"AGH!" he cried, and his eyes opened wide. Post-coital sensitivity caused him
to be wracked simultaneously with sudden pleasure and a painfully intense
ticklish sensation. The shocking spasm made him spurt again inside her. He was
now wide awake and looking up at her in awe: she was so goddess-like there
above him, her skin flushed and her face radiant, her muscles pumped up from
exertion. She imperiously gazed down at him over her magnificent breasts, the
nipples proudly erect. She grinned at him and did it again, even harder: POW!
Shocking his abused cock again so intensely that he cried out in pain,
pleasure, and utter capitulation: His member was spent and could take no more.
Inside her she felt his once angry serpent soften, collapse, and shrink until
it was no more than a worm.

Satisfied that she had taken everything he could give, she rose up until the
head of his now limp appendage popped out of her like a champagne cork and
plopped, spent and flaccid, onto his stomach. Her orgasm had invigorated, not
exhausted her. Still straddling him she slid up his body, smearing their
combined juices along his torso as she went, until she pinned his upper arms
with her shins and shoved her fragrant, sopping wet pussy in his face. "Clean
me up, baby" she commanded.

He laid there and groaned, but she dug her heels into his sides like spurs.
"Ugh!" he grunted. She pushed her nether lips into his face again insistently,
and with great effort he did as he was told. Since she had just had an orgasm
he started off gently with light tongue strokes around her labia, then softly
tongue-fucked her pussy in and out for a long while. "Mmm ... " she hummed
with satisfaction. Of all the abuse she regularly heaped upon him, she had
never belittled his tongue work, which he took to be great praise. He worked
his magnificent mouth muscle around the edges of her gates of Heaven and then
in toward the little nubby head of her clit. He lapped at it in earnest, and
she responded with a sigh and a low moan. After a bit she started rocking a
little, back and forth in time with his strokes as he continued. With each
movement he could see up through her deep cleavage: her head was thrown back
and her eyes half-closed in rapture.

They went on for what seemed like ages. Although exhausted, he was still
enthralled with her commanding beauty, the aroma of her arousal, and the salty
and metallic taste of their combined cum. He attacked her love button with
renewed vigor which made her sigh with pleasure and smile with satisfaction,
relishing the devoted worship of the man she had long ago conquered and now
almost completely enslaved. She rode his tongue slowly, easily, feeling it
caress her clit but partly keeping it at bay in order to prolong this part of
the dance as much as possible because, she had to admit, it felt so ... damn
... GOOD, but also to test the limits of his devotion and stamina. She was
amazed that that damn tongue never seemed to tire. Eventually, however, his
toned but tired arms began to hurt there under the pressure of her shins. He
struggled against the pain, not trying to unseat her but just shift position.
She bore down and held him right where he was, enjoying his futile resistance;
it gave her a new feeling of physical power over him to be able to keep him
immobilized and in pain, a feeling of truly complete dominance instead of just
her usual mental manipulation. She suddenly realized she the physical power to
make him do whatever she wanted just because she wanted it. No mind games,
just raw feminine power was all she needed to control him completely. The
exertion it had taken to work him over was only a small fraction of the vast
reservoir she seemed to have available, and THAT was exhilarating.