“Just as I thought,” the blond mocked, “so bold and prized. But once primed and ready—so easy for the taking.”
SuperiorMan sought to break free from the rough hand gripping his hair, but was stricken to his core. In surprise, he found the sight of the commanding young man standing over him to be sending odd waves of some kind of inebriation throughout his body, weakening him further. His cock, too, was painfully hard, pressured upright within the confines of his uniform. He ached to be free. Too many years of sexual repression had now worked against him, his own body ratcheted out of control. Overcome by such long sheltered needs, he found he was being tortured by a stark anguish for release, fulfillment: want. Having been too terrified to acknowledge it, allowing it to surface… never before known, expressed. Strangled. Now fully captured by it. Unable to resist, a ten year old could have beaten him to a pulp. All defenses gone. Owned by the desires of another… and oddly, even by his own. To be mastered!
The hero was forced to his feet, and one of his mighty arms (nearly as large as the youth’s thigh) was easily twisted behind his back. How could this be?! He was the strongest man on the planet!! No, no, no!! He had no choice but to be herded down the stairs to the enforcing man’s apartment like a weakling. The feeling of pure helplessness the hero felt… had now inexplicably merged into a sudden new kind of euphoria he was experiencing at being so dominated! For a moment, he thought he might come—regaining some control, he quelled it.
Inside the apartment, scented candles had been lit, soft music was playing. SuperiorMan was pushed inside; he stumbled forward as his captor closed and locked the door. Looking around at the romantic setting, the hero realized the young man had been planning this from the start—how long? His breath quickened. Almost shocked. Had the street thugs been paid accomplices? He had been deceived… lured in for capture?! And knew it. His nostrils flared.
It had been a set-up all along! How could he have fallen for it? The handsome youth, so endearing, so much needing his help. And now? He was the one in desperate need of help. Oh, God, no—who could, or would? Who even knew he was here?
The young man smiled as he approached the retreating hero. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this!” The hero’s arms were free, nothing bound him. But he was not free.
SuperiorMan held his hands up in protest as he backed away. He knew he was too weak to stop his captor from having his way with him. The younger man grabbed his wrists, his arms, and pushed him onto the couch. Laying down on top of the hero, he began to kiss him mercilessly.
At first SuperiorMan tried to resist, but the mind-blotting pleasure from being kissed, roughly and then more passionately, grew to the point where he willingly began to kiss back. His mouth, his tongue, could not take, give enough. Receive. Their kissing seemed to last for an eternity, and when his captor finally broke it off, the hero was panting for breath, secretly wishing for more. His blood raced. His mind was too far hazed beyond his senses. Stirred too deeply. He was urgent to burst. To come, at all costs.
The young man squeezed the hero’s rich, surging cock, stroked it lightly through his uniform a few taunting times, just to make sure he stayed nice and paralyzingly hard, continuously keeping the hero’s powers at ebb, his juices on the verge of erupting. He maintained his position of dominance atop of him on the couch. Then, he winked, and with a wicked sort of smile, he climbed off… and walked over to the coffee table. Picking up a large dog collar, he sidled back slowly to the apprehensive SuperiorMan—a lance of doom thrust into him. He trembled.
The hero’s eyes widened in knowing fear, and he valiantly raised a hand in protest. “Please, not this! Not that!” he begged. It was one thing to make out and have sex with a good looking other, but to wear a dog collar and be treated like an animal was completely different. This could not be happening! He was the strong one. No one could tell him what to do—have their way with him. Could they…?
The young man’s eyes narrowed at the puerile resistance of the legendary hero. “I will ask you once nicely to put on the collar, SuperiorMan.”
The hero recoiled more strongly than expected, rousing the last reserves of his energy, yet still alarmed at the look of anger in his holder’s eyes. Part of him wanted to simply follow his captor’s orders, get this over with as soon as possible—but his pride as a superhero and a man just would not allow himself to be treated this way. “I’m not your dog!” he said with as much defiance as he could gather, trying to rise from the soft confines of the couch… his hardness, wet-tipped above his crotch, seeming to thrust even more forwardly outward.
But the young man swiftly threw down the collar, and grabbed SuperiorMan by his hair. He pulled the hapless, startled superhero up and forwards off the couch, and then sat down, with his hand still firmly wrapped into the hero’s black locks. Forcing his captive over his knees, he placed his other firm hand on the small of his back to keep him in place. What the hell—?!
SuperiorMan floundered with all his nonexistent strength, but failed to stop from being put over the youth’s knees like a little boy in trouble. His hard cock pressing against the young man’s legs applied a tauting pressure on his erection, causing the hero to somehow weaken even more, aware of his alien-flow seeping from him.
“Let me know when you are willing to put that collar on, boy!” The young man said harshly, and he brought his hand down hard and strong on the hero’s well-rounded buttocks.
SuperiorMan barely cried out as the first blow struck his ass. He had never been spanked—never, in any way! And the impossible humiliation of the most powerful man in the universe being man-handled, punished like a simple child… sent chills of startling terror, and a strange vast quiver shooting throughout his system and mind. Again and again, his perfect ass was struck, his mewling cries grew louder and louder, much to his own surprise.
Tiring rapidly, the young man, however, had to switch tactics. His hand had begun to ache terribly. Anticipating such, he had already placed a small, smooth paddle nearby. It was this he used to continue. And the assault was even worse.
After about forty, fifty hits, SuperiorMan felt the final sting of ultimate humiliation… he started to cry and sob like a little boy. “Stop, please; please, stop!” His glutes were a raging fire, and the mighty erection in his tights had grown even firmer. Crying out, the hero began to realize he felt impossibly thrilled at being strong-armed like this. How could he? It was a hard realization to swallow—his psyche, his body, had derived a mind-sweeping pleasure from this simple domination. How could this have happened? His ego-control compromised so easily?
The spanking continued, his flesh began to hurt so much that the hero began to feel numb. Finally, unable to bear another strike, he cried out for his captor to cease. “No more, no more! Please!!”
“Will you wear the collar, stud-boy?” the young man asked harshly.
Gasping for air through his tears, and mucous clogged throat, SuperiorMan nodded furiously. “Yes… yes!! I’ll wear the collar. Please—don’t spank me anymore!”
The young man pushed him off his lap and onto the floor, and sat watching as the hero curled himself into a protective ball of defeat. The youth allowed him a brief reprieve, before he kicked at him with his feet. SuperiorMan finally uncurled, and flung out his arms and legs broadly, a sign of almost total surrender… still quietly sobbing, uncontrollably. He was mind-shot, worn to the core of his psyche. Defenseless. His crotch and front were completely soaked with the overflow of his superior pre-cum. It was an incredibly large blot, the micro fabric of his costume practically translucent, revealing every vein of his throbbing, thickly long cock, reaching nearly to his sternum. No less a marvel to behold. As well… the surrendered splay of his magnificent body. Torso soaked, breathing heavily.
SuperiorMan lay powerless, sprawled on the floor, his breath and emotions wracked, unable to gather the strength to rise. His gluteals, a burning flame, his senses reeling. A part of him, his manliness, wanted to curl away and die, but the other part of him had staggeringly accepted, even enjoyed the roughness of being spanked. This hidden side of him scared the hero more than anything he’d ever faced. This could not be! If word of any such weakness ever got out, every small-time crook anywhere would be able to defeat him quite easily. Or destroy him with shame at the very mention of it. He would never be a man among men as before, but an easily manipulated cock-hound, willing to bend over and be abused by anyone having balls enough to grasp him by his balls. He’d be putty in their hands. His career would be finished, a laughingstock to all; and the world would be at the mercy of villains like Doctor Tentacle. He knew he had to convince his young captor to keep his dark secret. “Please, help me,” he pleaded. Knowing his encroaching fate was sealed.
“Come on. Up! ”
The handsome young lad was owning him, owned him. And they both knew it.
Peering through his tears, SuperiorMan saw that his captor’s patience was running thin. He moaned with his soreness, forcing himself to his hands and knees, and slowly picked up the collar. If he did this, he was lost. He hesitated. He didn’t have to do this! Why was he? Weakly, he slipped the leather around his thick neck. The mighty hero felt a part of himself crumble and die as he surrendered… hopelessly, willingly to the young man, who had effectively aroused, seduced, and weakened him—tapped into his own hormonal man-source from within, which had secretly, overpoweringly cried for release, fulfillment. Knowing he could have easily snapped the youth in half, otherwise. Gingerly sitting back down on his haunches, he bowed his head in submission. He had been conquered.
The young man ran his fingers through the hero’s dark locks. “That’s a good boy,” he said soothingly, patting him like a favored dog who had just followed his master’s command. He finished fastening the final symbol of SuperiorMan’s conquest into place, the hero’s bewildered tears still trickling down his handsome face. The blond then coolly took a leash from the end table and attached it to the collar. “Now come along,” he commanded as he led the hero from the living room into the back of the apartment.
SuperiorMan crawled as fast as he could on his hands and knees. Every movement caused the embered pain in his ass to reignite. His cock, still trapped within the confines of his tight suit pressed firm against his ridged abdominals and pecs, wet with the steady flow of his rivering shaft. His face was moist and sticky from the assault of being spanked—his humiliation, yet strangely exciting him. The knot in his perineum was rock hard, just under his balls, continuously firing, stirring up masses of “something” to be triggered from within.
The hero was led down a carpeted hall to a secure bedroom, where he gazed in startled disbelief. The room looked like something a dungeon-meister might have constructed, though not terribly complex nor complete. Against one wall was a bed with sturdy posts at each corner. Each post had leather straps attached to them leading onto the bed itself. On the other side of the room was a X-cross that had leather straps at each end. Along one of the walls hung a foreboding assortment of whips and paddles, chains and truncheons arranged by length and size. The cowed hero felt chills run up and down his spine at the sight of the room tailored for such implied, flagrant bondage. The lights were turned off, but a couple dozen candles sat on all the surfaces roundabout, giving the room a soft glow in mirrored light.
“Like it?” the young man smirked. “Had it done especially for guys like you.” SuperiorMan was now more than on edge. What?! “Cost a pretty penny. But beans, compared to what I’ll be getting later,” he savored, letting his words soak into the hero’s shocked senses. “Soundproof, too….”
The young man jerked on the leash. “On your feet, muscle-fuck” he commanded harshly.
SuperiorMan’s mind reeled, wondered if he could yet put up a fight, but the searing pain in his butt convinced him to play along. His inner psychological balance was blasted so far askew, he wondered almost who he was anymore. His identity had been shaken, taken from him. He had already allowed his weakness to go too far. It was unlikely his captor could keep him forever. Surely, not here! But, if the more he cooperated, the more likely he might be able to convince him to keep his dark secret… perhaps, eventually let him go? Struggling to his feet, the once proud hero was a shattered, complete mess. He stood with his head tucked, painfully aware of the still prominent hard-on in his tights. Was this what “sex” was truly all about? For him, what it should be? Not what he’d ever expected. Warmth, holding, caressing...?
“Take off your clothes, slave. We don’t want them ruined any further with tonight’s festivities.”
SuperiorMan paled at the thought of being completely naked in front of his captor. His costume was his last link to the power he had once commanded. Without it, he would be truly stripped of all he was… just a helpless, hugely muscled, but pretty-boy weakling. As he brought his hands to the sun-yellow belt that clung snugly on his tapered waist, SuperiorMan knew that this was the point of no return. Once he started to take off his symbolic attire, he would truly be a prisoner… his cock and body and person owned, primed for some sort of a sexual nightmare? There had to be a way of escape. There had to be! And yet he wanted, yearned for what might come next. He needed release so badly. Knowing it would also further imperil him. Destroy?
(For how distressing it had been since turning 21, his “assets” suddenly, greatly enlarging, no longer able to see himself nude shaving, had to wear a loose, baggy shirt to cover himself, unable to even view himself after showering—or he’d get such a hard-on, it would take over an hour to go down. Dared not indulge. Inconvenient, forever annoying.)
The young man unsnapped his leash, tugged at, and jerk-removed his cape with a flourish, tossing it heavily aside to the floor. SuperiorMan swallowed dryly, his eyes following the main symbol of his flight, his escape, his power extinguishing.
With a resigned sigh, he fully unclasped his belt, letting it drop to the floor with a strong clunk. As each piece of his uniform was taken off and discarded, revealing more and more of the exposed chiseled might of his superhero’s body… the more of a thrill SuperiorMan seemed to feel. After his boots and tights were finally pulled off his legs and given up, the hero faced his captor completely naked, and erect-hard. His smoothly-planed, honed body glistened in the soft light; hair only on his head, eyebrows, armpits and pubis. A living sculpture of pure muscular art. His thickly risen, fully cut cock, earnestly betraying him… inherently proud, he had to admit, pointing upwards at the young man: a magnificent twelve inches of male flesh, eight thick inches around. And never touched by anyone (except his own hands, his own mouth, his own lips, yet hardly ever )—forever having guarded the secret of his sexuality, keeping it in check, obscured from the world. Now fully exposed and vulnerable… being relinquished to a new owner, a new master. He was excited beyond measure and terribly afraid, all at the same time. Unconsciously thrusting forth his mighty muscled pecs, his hugely protruding nipples, an offering to his victor.
The young man slowly circled his prey, eyeing every part of the hero’s exposed superb body. “Very, very nice!” he said as he appraised his newest, most incredible, once-in-a-lifetime conquest. “I’m going to enjoy this! And no less than hung, as a “Superior Man” should be! With balls the size of plums; really great! You must carry quite a load there. Which indeed, we shall relieve you of—right?”
Moving closer, his long fingers then curled, snapped swift and hard… several times into SuperiorMan’s turgid nipples, as if flicking flies. The hero arced his torso, surprised , his head going back, feeling wobbled in the knees—ohhh, this was going to be good!! Only a moment. Then, the young blond grinned, and fiercely gripped into his nubs, both at the same time, pulled, squeezed, twisting as hard as he could. The superhero cried out: this was not pleasure, it was pain!! His jaw dropped, strange gurglings rose from his throat. His brows furrowed. “Oh, oh, oh—n-no-nooohhhh—!!” He valiantly raised his hands to stop it, but the blond deftly butt-crashed his head into his chin, stunning him. His hands fell away, stood there like a dazed bull.
The kid let go of him, amused.
Once more, disoriented, SuperiorMan felt a jolt of pleasure as the young man grasped his notable erection… savoring over the heft of his testicles. And then, gently using his shaft as a handle, he led the hero to the bed and instructed him to lay on his back. The thick bedspread felt soft and cool to his ever-burning buttocks. Obediently laying down onto the bed, the hero watched as the young man went around and attached a leather restraint to each of his wrists and ankles. He softly tugged on the restraints hoping that his powers had returned, but they held firm, keeping him securely placed on the bed. With his cock raging hard, he knew there was no chance his resistant strength would soon return. His own malehood and arousal, truly keeping his core-self and might powerless. Because… he really, shockingly, didn’t want to be free. He wanted to be taken, plundered, raped, loved—enjoyed.
His captor climbed onto the bed, and eagerly began to softly slow-stroke his heroic-sized cock. “Very, very impressive—a man beyond men!” he marveled. The young man ran his deft fingers up and down, along and over, the great erection that had betrayed him, robbed him of his superior powers. (Though perhaps had he used it more often, indulged himself more judiciously, he might never have fallen so easy prey to such a predator, as determined and endearing as this one—now his superior, controlling him?) The young blond’s words confirmed his very thoughts. Both reassuring, and terribly alarming.
“It’s a shame you didn’t use this weapon more often. I know plenty of guys who would’ve jumped at the chance to worship this monster. Instead, you kept it all for yourself. Fatal, actually. No wonder you’re so weak. A lifetime of hunger overwhelming you. Or were you just so narcissistic, you didn’t want to share it? Now, with me, hardly half your size, all-over. And now, it really is “all over.” For you…. Tragic. ”
Unsettled by the warning, he stammered. “I, I’ve… tried to use it, prudently. Wisely. What are you, what will you—?” too unnerved to finish.
The conquered hero felt a new notch of terror. What could the boy mean? Surely, he couldn’t be kept here forever! (Jacked to death…? Castrated? Good God, nooooo!! Robbed of every ounce of his male-strength, his superior cum? Impossible! No one could do that, could they? Could they? ) His guts churned anew with a different horror, a sudden, true fear, deeper than before. It was possible—his seed-source removed from him?
SuperiorMan clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, drenched in wondering fear: the realization of his well-orchestrated, impending “possible destruction?” Being then disarmed again, when the youth leaned in… resumed the glorious, wondrous pleasure of another male hand stroking him. It had been forever since he had allowed himself the simplicity of taking his own, knowing every time he’d done so, he had become crazily weakened for hours: could not retain his strength, became helpless… until after hours and hours of restoration. Now this, the incredible assault of a long-restricted joy, overruling his senses. Feeling sharply all the intensity of what had been years, aeons of a foolish, well-guarded neglect… risen up, powerfully imprisoning him: his monumental conduit, urgent to relinquish his life-giving semen.
Perhaps had he indulged more, he would not have become so easily weakened? Would have built up a resistance through practice? In actuality, re-strengthening himself… if recycled, not wasted? A flaw now, he realized—unwittingly contributing to his own destruction. If that’s what it was? A sudden, renewed assault on his oversized nipples quickened him out of his reverie, torquing, triggering within a rising rage to burst, to come. Lips, tongue, teeth: licking, sucking, chewing! If the boy didn’t stop—
The hero jerked his eyes open as he felt a stealthy hand easing over his hurting ass, and outrageously probe further, and into his cleft. He looked down and saw his captor pressing in toward his never touched, sacred man-hole. Gasping, he felt the intrusion into his anus… a violation, triggering a different, new type of pleasure. No one had ever touched him there before (or anywhere, really). His cock lurched boldly with jarred excitement, being handled this way. He began to moan, unconsciously. He was now under complete ownership by another.
“Damn, you are tight in there!” the young man crowed. “Looks like I do get to pop that manly cherry. Really make you my girl!”
SuperiorMan groaned as he pictured himself being fucked by his captor. He knew he should try with all the fiber of his being to resist, escape; he was still massively muscled, wasn’t he—why wouldn’t his brain activate his musculature, why?! He moaned, aching to resist, to fight back. But the darker, more hungered part of his being to be fucked like a woman, by one strong enough to have mastered him, taken him down… took over. With a heavy sigh, he felt a pang of regret when the youth’s fingers withdrew from inside him, and he got off the bed.
The young man went to a dresser and came back holding a blindfold. SuperiorMan stared at it, more than apprehensive. “N-no, don’t blindfold me.” He protested, meekly. “No, please! Don’t…” his whimpering went unheeded.
Climbing back on the bed, his captor bent down and kissed him raucously on the lips. SuperiorMan, completely bound, wrists and ankles, stared back at the handsome blond as the blindfold was placed over his head, covering his eyes. “Why, why?” he pleaded, tossing his head uselessly.
Blinded by his darkness, he slowly licked his lips not knowing what was going to happen. This altered unknown made him feel even more helpless, more powerless, and it was that vague, strangely blinding helplessness that tremored a new wave of quavering within.
SuperiorMan seemed to wait for an eternity… tied quietly, semi-voluntarily, his eyes completely covered. He strained to hear any movement from his captor, but the silence seemed to mock him. He gasped when he again felt a light hand on his cock softly caressing, tugging, to maintain its heated hardness. The hero doubted his cock would ever be able to relax until pleasured to full release. The astonishment he felt at being bound and helpless, unable to defend himself, or stop his captor, kept his manhood stiffened beyond comprehension.
As pleasure mounted in his body from the manipulation of his cock, SuperiorMan knew inherently, this would lead to his doom. This kind of pleasure was too much to ignore, and he wished it could go on forever. Slightly pulling on his restraints to heighten his intoxication, knowing he was truly snared, and yet by his own will of having allowed it; (and yet not truly of his will by the betrayal of his own body), and having come under bondage to another… the hero “uunhh-ooohed,” thrashed like an animal in heat. He was not a woman. He was a man, a mighty man, all man—and yet so much of him ached to be violated, owned—give of himself to another, be taken completely. Ravaged to his core.
The stroking suddenly stopped, and SuperiorMan groaned with disappointment. He thrust his hips upwards, trying to connect with anything that could touch him. He had been taken so close to the edge…. Time seemed to crawl as he willed to be more molested by his captor. Instead, he realized the dog collar was being removed. A minor reprieve. He swallowed freely. There was a pervading quiet.
Then, SuperiorMan yelped out in pain: something hot and wet had dropped down onto his left nipple. The liquid seared his skin, and as it cooled, merged with his flesh, hardening. His great teat seemed to swell even larger. His captor must be using candle wax, he thought numbly. He cried out again as more wax dropped down on his other nipple, burning it for a few seconds before hardening. Both of his nipples now, surgingly warm, huge and hungry, ready to burst from his pecs. SuperiorMan kept gasping, not knowing what to expect. Further wax was dropped randomly onto his chest and abdominals, causing a combination of both pain and pleasure. Soon his breasts felt as if encased in flexible wax, the warmth of it lingering, while his rod remained root hard. He yearned to blast his juices like a rocket. Wanted his nipples to be pulled, sucked, twisted, chewed. “My nipples,” he cried. “Oh, please—take them, use them! ” He was ignored.
The silence returned as SuperiorMan lay blindfolded, tied on his captor’s bed. He tested the strength of his bonds once again, hoping he’d regained enough strength to break free and end this nightmare. It was a half-hearted effort. Though a powerful male, the more feminine part of him wished this could go on and on, being pleasured with the pain of bondage and servitude. The silence was broken as he felt something pressing against his ass. The object seemed to tear him apart as the invading monster was shoved up into him. It was only a modest-sized dildo, hardly seven inches. But SuperiorMan wailed aloud at this hard intrusion into his virginal chute. Once the object was nested deeply inside him, he slowly got used to it, the discomfort fading… began to love the rich fullness of it. Holding him further in bondage, enraptured.
“This is to open you up, before I break that ass!” his captor mused lightly.
SuperiorMan flushed red at the thought of being violated like this. His soul divided between the euphoria of being humiliated, and the feeling of degradation being used as a “thing,” not a person. The magnificent man he was: to give pleasure to, be pleasured by—not some sex toy! But he did not have much time to think about it; suddenly this new thing, the object in his ass began to softly vibrate.
The pain he had felt from the initial intrusion was slowly replaced by a rising pleasure. The object seemed to rest against the rapture centers of his prostate, the vibrations once again nearly sending him over the edge with ecstatic jolts he didn’t know existed. His stubborn-strong, engorged cock seemed to continually leap with joy in response to this neoteric wonder, his entire body aching for orgasmic release. “Please, yes! Please—yes, yes, yes!! ”
And just as he was nearing his highest peak from this latest stimulation—SuperiorMan cried out suddenly, as he felt something sharp and stinging cut at the flesh of his manhood. The sound and shear of the soft rawhide whip cracking against the most sensitive areas of his body made him howl, nonetheless. The hero frantically tried to tear free of his bonds—further blows slashed into his body. The vibration in his anus did not stop, but joined with the pain of being whipped lightly all over, forming a combination of amazement SuperiorMan did not think possible. Then, the whip was replaced with a soft, rubber truncheon. It slowly began to disarm the great muscular strength that was left in his trapezius, his arms, his pecs, his oak-like thighs: reducing him to a mass of quivering jelly, unable to use any of his muscles had he wanted to.
He rapidly lost his erection. His giant cock going flaccid, bereft and useless.
He was more than in total shock. Not only was his recumbent, superior strength being dismantled limb by limb, muscle by muscle, tendon by tendon, being riven into nothing… but his sensory invulnerability to normal pain had also diminished. He was now nearly as susceptible as anyone to such torture—the simpler, spanking pain had been a certain surprise to his system, but this superseded anything he could ever have imagined a human person might be capable of feeling. He was genuinely staggered to the pit of his existence. Horrified, devastated.
This time, he screamed, truly. Even his balls were being hammered. His body was being pulverized without mercy. His manliness crushed from him. All the glory of his physique and power reduced to useless rubble. The pain, unbearable. He was defeated. Broken. Having once given up his will, he was now more than under the power of that loss. He could not, even if he wanted, to save himself. He was completely mastered out of his control. He could not even think clearly. Could not believe what was happening. All of his proud musculature shattered beyond function or use. The great sac of his male-source, an incredibly throbbing, raging inferno.
Now, he was beyond terrified. His horror fully realized. He had voluntarily submitted himself to his own destruction. Yet inside, he was still urgent to blast his semen through the roof. Though unable, his magnificent cock… dead and slack.
As his cries grew louder and louder, SuperiorMan cursed himself for having saved his tormentor from being mugged. His screams seemed to bounce off of the walls and back to him as he felt pain greater, deeper than he’d ever known. He, the invulnerable one! Owned, and being ravaged, destroyed. This was now far more than torment, greater than pleasure. He grew more and more panicked, worse than desperately frightened. The young man was going to kill him! He had surrendered his superiority to a weaker man, and was now more than unable to help himself. His alien strength had inadvertently become trapped by his own self from within—the power of his innate sexuality strangling his own might into utter helplessness, complete submission. Depleted, he was near death…. He knew it. His testicles demolished.
Thunk after whump . He couldn’t stop screaming.
Only gentleness could save him.
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