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"Oh, and you can move your hands. Get up, if you like."
As the door clicked shut, I released my arms from their self-imposed imprisonment. My mind was overtaken by a hot fog of lust. Without even stopping to think, I tore through my fly and briefs like a man breaking down a door to escape a burning building. Frantically trying to pleasure myself, desperate for relief from the all-consuming heat of my overstimulated libido, I reached my peak in a matter of seconds, soaked in sweat and dripping a few remaining tears of unrestrainable emotion as I exploded, pumping out what felt like an endless stream of the burning lust inside me.
Sides heaving, I clambered off the chair, totally unable to stand, collapsing onto a floor made slippery with more than one of my fluids. After finally managing to release some of my raging lust, I could no longer avoid the crushing knowledge that she had not only forced me into unquestioning obedience, but that I had truly enjoyed it. Calling her Mistress somehow felt right, it had been nearly as satisfying as her tantalizing touch. In the face of that undeniable truth, my sense of manhood seemed to collapse. I coughed out a few forceful, angry, frustrated sobs, trying to stand in a futile attempt to face this unwelcome sensation like a fighter.
Unsurprisingly, that was a total failure. My body was nowhere near being able to stand. The world blurred, and my ears were overwhelmed by a loud, ringing roar. I had lost this fight. That truth was the last thought in my head as I finally crumbled, the world fading to black as I hit the floor like a lifeless corpse. She had won. Damn her, she had won.
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