DON'T RESCUE ME, Part 6: Hitting Bottom
By Elrohir, Elrohir57@gmail.com


The last straw for him, but then a surprise for her.

Part 6

She was still asleep when he left for the office very, very early the next
morning. He'd been unable to sleep, and after tossing and turning all night he
decided he might as well go in to work early. Maybe she would let him take a
nap when he got home, he thought, if even then he could relax enough to doze.
Their discussion last night had led them both to realize that the nature of
their relationship had forever changed. For Debra it was confirmation of what
she had known unconsciously all along: that she was in charge and in control.
Now that it was out in the open, she felt completely content after having
finally set things straight with him; thus she slept long and peacefully. For
Stanley, however, the stark reality that he had no power in the relationship,
and never had, crushed what little ego he had left, and no amount of
self-denial would change that.

Again, he sort of drifted through the day without accomplishing very much. He
went home at the usual time, more out of habit than for any other reason. As
he arrived home and turned onto their cul-de-sac street, he passed an
unfamiliar car coming out. Its windows were tinted so he could not see who was
driving, but he supposed it might be someone visiting one of the neighbors on
the court. He came in the front door and set his briefcase down in the
entryway next to Debra's gym bag, remembering it had not been there yesterday.
'Guess we're back to the old routines,' he thought.

When he reached the living room, however, he found Debra there waiting for
him, standing there with an intense, somewhat crazed look. Her hair was
slightly mussed and she was still dressed in her workout clothes: a sports
bra, tank top, and shorts cut high on her thighs, which showed off her legs to
great effect, and bare feet. She had, however, no shoes on. She walked up to
him and grabbed him to her, kissing him deeply with an aggressive passion just
like at the beginning of last week. He could not stop himself from becoming
rock hard, and she ground her hips against him. He had succumbed to her for
what seemed like many minutes when she broke off the kiss and looked hotly
into his eyes. "Strip," she commanded. "Now."

He looked at her aghast for a moment, but then began doing as he was told. He
had removed his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt when she
growled in annoyance, grabbed the sides of his shirt, and ripped it apart,
scattering buttons everywhere. She jerked it halfway down off his shoulders
trapping his arms, then loosened his belt and yanked his pants down to his
knees, and did the same with his underwear. Then she wrapped her left arm
around his shoulders as her right hand pumped his sex pole to its maximum
potential. She swept his feet out from under him and took him to the carpet,
where she quickly mounted and rode him, rapidly and ferociously. He held on
for as long as he could, afraid she would punish him if he came too soon, but
before long he cried out as if in agony and exploded inside her.

"YEAH!" she bellowed as she felt him erupt, hot cum leaking out of her, but
she continued to ride him long after his climax, until he was too soft to do
anything with. Then as usual she slid her pussy up his torso to his face,
smearing their combined goo along the way. She sealed her nether lips over his
mouth, and like the obedient dog he was, he expertly attacked her insides with
his tongue until she, too, cried out and shook with her own climax, drenching
his face with her flow.

He suddenly noticed that the mixture coating his tongue tasted markedly
different than usual; very, uh, oniony... and when she sighed absent mindedly
and cooed "Oh Lance, that was fucking fantastic..." he knew what the source of
the new taste was. Lance was the name of her personal trainer at the gym. She
must have just finished fucking him right before Stanley got home. That must
explain the unfamiliar car he'd passed.

"Goddamit!" he exclaimed as she rose up off him and walked away. "What the
FUCK did you do???" he yelled, almost in tears.

"I think you just answered your own question," she said over her shoulder
nonchalantly as she climbed the stairs to go take a shower. "I fucked. And
then I fucked you."

"WHO THE HELL DID YOU FUCK?!" he screamed up at her receding gorgeous
backside, even though he already knew the answer. She crested the stairs and
disappeared into the master bedroom without saying anything. He heard the
water turn on a minute later. He stood there fuming, and then he stood there
crying. Apparently he mattered so little to her that she didn't care how he
felt about her fucking another man, and in THEIR house. He was angry, but he
was afraid even more, realizing that possibly his days in this, his own house,
were numbered.

The indignant part of his upset took over, so he pulled up his pants and
stormed up the stairs after her. She hadn't bothered to even close the
bathroom door... why should she? She knew he'd be coming. As he approached the
glass shower door, she posed with her back to him in a mock ballerina
pirouette, her hands over her head, twirling her body around under the water.
She timed her turning perfectly.

He jerked open the shower door and yelled "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK... " She
raised one knee and her ballerina foot gracefully flicked out with blurring
speed, the bony top of it impacting his balls with deadly accuracy. His
gasping sucking of wind interrupted him in mid- sentence and, nauseated beyond
belief, he doubled over and fell to the marble floor in a fetal position of
agony. He lay there writhing while she calmly turned off the water, stepped
out of the shower and toweled off.

She reached down and grabbed his ankles, and dragged him backward out of the
bathroom onto the carpet in the middle of the bedroom floor until he was
straightened out, face down. She straddled his head facing toward his feet,
reached behind her and grabbed his hair, and pulled the back of his head up
into her crotch. Then she rolled to her left, taking his head with her so that
he was rolled on his side. She unfolded her legs and wrapped them around his
head and neck and began squeezing while grabbing his left hand and arm and
twisting it up behind him in the now all-too-familiar hammerlock. (His arms
were probably an inch or two longer by now, she thought with amusement.) His
pants and underwear were around his knees by virtue of the dragging,
completely exposing his taut, tender ass.

SMACK! She struck him as hard as she could with her open hand on his bare
bottom. "AIYEE!" He yelped and squirmed, but she cranked down the hammerlock
to give him something else to think about. He cried out in pain from the
increased torque on his arm. She let up a bit and WHACKed him again on the
ass, and WHACKed again, and then again and again in a steady rhythm, yelling
at him with each blow: "DON'T... YOU... EVER... YELL AT ME... EVER...
AGAIN!.... MY... FUCKING... IS... MY... FUCKING... BUSINESS!....
UNDERSTAND???" She continued brutally smacking his ass without saying
anything. He cried out and flinched with every smack, his head bucking against
her crotch. Her hard hand left a glowing red imprint after each blow, until
finally his entire ass was one glowing red mass. Still she continued raining
blows down on his ass for a while, then paused: "I SAID, DO YOU
UNDERSTAND?!!!"

"YES! YES! YES! I UNDERSTAND, PLEASE STOP OH GOD OH GOD DEBRA PLEASE STOP!
WAAAHAAAHAAA!..." he exploded, bawling, his cries muffled only slightly by the
carpet, but still she continued spanking him, smack after smack after smack,
until suddenly she paused and began shaking.

"UHHHHHH!" rose from within her as she continued shaking, a torrent of juices
flowing from her onto the back of his head and neck. Her thighs began
squeezing, powerfully reflexively, as her orgasm washed over her. "UHHHH!
UHHHHH!" Her entire body tightened with the spasm.

"ACK!" he squawked in response to her crushing pressure, until his airway was
cut off. By the time her contractions subsided and she relaxed her thighs, he
was out cold. She pushed him over with her foot to get his lolling head off
her leg, and then rolled him back onto his face. She stood up and walked into
the bathroom to freshen up, then into the walk-in closet. She put on her
tight, red Sofia Vergara mini dress, large gold hoop earrings, and red
come-fuck-me pumps.

When she emerged, Stanley had more or less come to and was stirring a little
bit. With her foot she rolled him to his back, then stood over him and looked
down into his bleary eyes. "I'm going out," she said tersely. "Don't wait up."
She turned and adjusted her hair in the mirror, then walked out of the room
and down the stairs. After he heard the front door close and her car start up
and drive away, he laid there on the floor and fell into an exhausted sleep.

He awoke some five hours later, still lying on the floor; the clock on the
nightstand read 2:07 a.m. and there were no sounds anywhere in the house. He
felt surprisingly good, considering what he'd been through: the headache he'd
felt earlier when he first came to was gone, and his balls, though tender,
were no longer throbbing. He looked at his ass in the bathroom mirror and was
shocked to see that it had already turned completely black and blue in a mass
of bruises, but thankfully it only hurt when he tried to sit down.

He decided he'd had all he could take and was not going to take it anymore. He
went into the closet and brought out the biggest suitcase they had, loaded it
with almost all his clothing and an extra pair of shoes. Maybe after he'd had
a little time away he could come back and get the rest of his things, but for
now the essentials would have to do. He looked in the mirror again and
discovered that his hair was matted crazily, and the smell of Debra's cum was
still fragrant in his hair and on his neck long after it had dried. He stepped
into the shower and turned the water to lukewarm so it wouldn't sting his ass
any more than necessary. The water felt good washing over his body and pooling
at his feet. It was like all his pain and humiliation were being washed away.
After a long time, he shut off the water and stepped out onto the floor; he'd
forgotten to get a towel, so he walked over to the little linen closet and got
one out, dripping water all of the way. He dried off right there and left the
wet towel on the floor, thinking she could clean up for a change. He looked in
the mirror again and thought he seemed somewhat better. He walked out of the
closet with new resolve.

"Where do you think you're going? said Debra from the doorway. Her cascade of
dark hair was a little mussed, but she still wore the big hoop earrings. Her
dress lay on the floor of the bedroom, and she stood there dressed in her red
push-up bra, red satin panties, and the red pumps that made her ass and legs
look soooo good.

She didn't wait for an answer, but began walking toward him. He retreated with
her following until his back bumped against the wall. She put her hands on his
shoulders and held him against the wall while she pushed her breasts into his
upper chest. She was three inches taller, but with the stiletto heels she
seemed to tower over him. She forced a deep, rough kiss on him, at the same
time grinding her boobs against his chest. She broke off the kiss and
whispered in his ear "So you think you're going to leave me?"

He was paralyzed with fear and indecision and seemed to be unable to resist
her. Still he managed to nod in the affirmative, even though he despaired of
what her reaction might be. When she brought her hands down and began slowly
squeezing and gently twisting his nipples, he was horrified to feel his
manhood rise in salute to the person it apparently knew to be its true master.
"Mmm," she sighed with satisfaction as she felt its head knocking against her
thigh. She reached down and brought it up between them, pressing it against
his abdomen with hers. He gasped as she shifted slightly, rubbing it between
them.

"That's all the proof I needed," she smiled, looking into his eyes. "You can't
leave me. I've dominated you, raped you, publicly humiliated you, beaten and
choked you unconscious.... I fucked another man and made you eat his cum, then
whipped your ass so hard you can't sit down, and yet..." She took hold of his
steel hard prick and squeezed it firmly. "You STILL WANT ME; my body, and what
I can make you feel, don't you?"

He didn't answer, but she could see the fear grow in his eyes as he felt his
resistance crumble. NO! He couldn't give up now! If he did, he would be a
complete slave to her-- body, mind, and soul. He tried to shift sideways along
the wall away from her but she pushed his shoulders back again and grabbed his
wrists in her hands and put them up against the wall by his head. She put her
lips against his neck and sucked hard, marking him with a bruise worthy of a
vampire, then licked the side of his face.

"I'll tell you what, baby," she whispered in his ear, "if you're so sure you
want to leave, let's make love one last time, and if you still want to go
after that, I won't keep you. One last time is all I want. I'll even let you
be on top." She backed away from him, unhooked the red bra, and let it fall
from her shoulders. She slipped the tiny little bikini panties down past her
gorgeous ass, let them fall to the floor, and stepped out of them. She took
one of his hands lightly in hers and led him over to the bed. She lay back on
the bed and curled her legs up into the air and extended them, the stiletto
heels of her pumps sticking straight up in the air, her shapely sculpted legs
on full display, taught muscles showing under their velvet covering of soft
skin. "Take me," she said seductively, "and then you can take off. What've you
got to lose?"

She was gambling a bit by letting him decide what to do. Even though she was
strong and skilled enough to make him to do whatever she wanted, and/or catch
him if he tried to run away, that would not break his spirit. No, she needed
him to own it, to admit to himself that he was addicted to her and unable to
resist her. He needed to voluntarily submit, to freely choose enslavement over
freedom. Only then would her control of him be absolute.

"What's it going to be, baby?" she cooed, mockingly, "Are you gonna be a stud
and show me what I'll be missing, if you think you're man enough, or are you
gonna just run away like a scared little boy?" He stood there, hesitating even
though the measure of his desire for her was standing hard and tall. "Well?"
she said disappointedly "Not up to it? Left your big-boy pants in the
bathroom?" She lowered her stiletto-shod feet to the mattress to show him the
window was closing, although her curvaceous, muscular legs were still spread
apart and inviting.

Emotions were boiling inside him. His rational side knew he should just walk
away, but his passion and arousal were overtaking him, mixed with anger at her
for challenging his manhood. He trembled with both rage and desire: "I want
her" and "I'll show her" combined to push any rational thoughts out of his
head. He growled and dove onto the bed. He crawled up her body, and bit both
her thighs hard enough to make her flinch each time, then buried his face in
her pussy and viciously attacked her clit with his tongue.

"Ahhhh!" she cried with pleasure. It was almost painful for her, but she
wasn't going to let him know it. He lapped at her opening until he could smell
and taste her arousal, then moved up to her breasts and began alternately
suckling at them. "Oh yeah!" she breathed. "Let Mama feed her little man." He
lingered at them only until both her nipples hardened and stood up like pencil
erasers.

As he moved up farther, Stanley grasped his flesh rod in one hand and guided
it through her nether lips, plunging it into her up to its hilt. "Ohhhh yeah!"
she said with intense but quiet satisfaction. "Give Mama what she wants,
baby!"

He hooked his elbows under her knees and leaned forward, rotating her thighs
and pelvis upward and putting her feet over his shoulders. Then he reached
forward and grabbed her elbows. He had read in her Cosmopolitan that this
position would make for deeper penetration, and effectively trap her under
him, giving them both the feeling of him being dominant and in control.

"Oh!" she cried in surprise as he withdrew only slightly and then thrust hard
back into her. He then withdrew almost completely, until only the head of his
shaft was caught in her mousetrap, and again pounded into her with his pile
driver. "Oh!" she cried again, in spite of herself. He repeated the process 3
or 4 times, and she cried "Oh!" each time.

He then began thrusting away like a madman, snorting and grunting like an
enraged bull, a sheen of perspiration making his contorted facial expression
even more scary and intense. She had never seen him like this, and it was
turning her on in a way she hadn't expected. Trying to maintain her dominant
composure, she said, "That's it, baby! Give Mama all you've got. "

But her body was vibrating in response to the monster pounding into her,
seeming to expand and fill her even more each time. Soon her arousal spiked
and sent her over the edge in a sudden spasm so overwhelming her that she
barely made a sound. "Ooooooh... " slipped out of her as the contractions
rippled through her body. She flowed as she came, drenching his neither region
in warm moisture, giving him a feeling of triumph and spurring him onward. His
continued pounding caused a number of heavenly aftershocks to roll through
her, and she smiled benevolently up at him even though her entire body was
trembling as she did so. "You're doing good, baby! Keep trying... " she said
condescendingly. But the tremor in her voice belied her calm.

Still he thrust himself in and out of her, at an impossibly rapid pace that
seemed to go on forever. He resolved he was going to fuck her until she loved
him, or die trying. She didn't want to admit it, but after a while she knew he
was wearing her out. She was squeezing his member hard with her nether lips
but he hardly noticed, intent on fucking her as hard and as long as possible.
She'd had one orgasm already, and felt she was becoming too exhausted to have
another one. He was almost foaming at the mouth, sweat pouring off him while
his face remained in a crazed, determined grimace. From the look of him she
was afraid his heart was going to explode.

"Okay, baby; Mama will let you come, now... Go ahead!" Still he thrusted with
abandon, his heart pounding in his ears. He was in a zone where he felt he
could last forever and was damn sure going to try. "Don't... kill...
yourself... " she said uncomfortably. "Just let it go... LET IT GO, BABY!" she
exclaimed, like a mother shouting encouragement to her little son during a
kids' football game. He said nothing in response, his face contorted in
intense concentration, still dripping with sweat. She was starting to hurt a
little bit, and finally reverted to her old commanding harpy voice: "DAMMIT,
STANLEY! COME! NOW!"

"WHEN I'M READY!" he bellowed back, not stopping for an instant.

His insolence shocked her. She attempted to push him off her, but found
herself so rolled up that she could get no leverage, and he held her arms fast
with his hands. Sonofabitch, this infernal position really did immobilize her!
To her chagrin she was HIS fucktoy for a change, at least for the time being,
and it was disconcerting to her. She was feeling momentarily helpless, used,
and... even more aroused! She had no choice but to let him continue.

Perhaps this was what she really needed: a male who struggled against her,
battled her, maybe even bested her sometimes. Still he pounded her, his
breathing now labored, huffing and puffing like a locomotive low on steam.
Still, his fury was thrilling her, and soon she was suddenly, unexpectedly,
blitzed by another orgasm.

As she reflexively contracted her legs, they began sliding up his fatigued and
sweaty arms. By the time her contractions subsided, her feet had slipped up
over his shoulders. Ha! She realized, she had him now! She crossed her ankles
behind his neck and power-flexed her calves, crushing them in towards each
other with his neck in between them.

"ACK!" he squawked, not for the first time that week. The shock destroyed his
composure, and his deprived cock gave up and released its load, spewing hot
cum inside her. "ORRRR!" he cried out, but was cut off by his airway being
crushed, and the lack of blood flow to his brain made his world go gray,
intensifying his exploding orgasm even as his world seemed to be fading away.
Stanley unknowingly experienced what the French call 'the little death'.

"HAH!" she shouted, a victory cry, as he passed out and went limp. She twisted
her hips and forced his head to the side with her calves, tossing him off the
bed onto the carpeted floor, where he landed in a heap, groaning as his
consciousness slowly returned. She rolled onto her back and laid there,
panting with exertion and emotional release. It had been perhaps the best sex
she'd ever had, with the husband she'd been on the verge of discarding a
couple of weeks ago. She did not want to admit he'd rocked her world, but she
couldn't deny it, and it was thrilling! She began to think there might just be
some use for him after all.

When she recovered her breath, she grabbed his pillow and threw it down hard
onto his head. "Stay down there the rest of the night, SLAVE!" she commanded.
The struggle had been nice, she thought, but in the end she still needed to be
the victor.

"Yes, Mistress Debra" he said sullenly. He had said it on his own, without her
telling him to. He had capitulated completely, it seemed. Her plan had worked
as she intended, after all. This has been a fantastic two weeks, she thought,
sighing with contentment as she drifted off to sleep.

She was asleep when he awoke in the wee hours of the morning, still lying on
the bedroom floor. He gently placed his pillow back on the bed and went down
the hall to shower in the guest bathroom so as not to disturb her, and because
he suspected she would make him use that bathroom from now on. He went in to
work early and for the first time in the last two weeks, he actually
accomplished quite a bit. Gladys remarked that he seemed to be his good old
cheery self, and he graciously thanked her for saying so. He knew it wasn't
completely true, but he did feel better because he was no longer conflicted
about his role in his marriage. He might not like it, but in a moment of
extreme weakness he had voluntarily surrendered, and now their war was over
and he had lost. But at least things were settled. He could begin his life
anew, albeit in a different reality than before.