Unconditional Surrender

- Gross! That's totally disgusting! How is it possible for you to do it that easily? Unbelievable, she exclaimed, sickened. I'm starting to believe you're being honest in your pledge to drink my pee.

- You can bet your life on it, I asserted. This is just the appetizer, I said, continuing to lick my fingers in great delight, sipping the transparent slime that oozed through them. Would you care for a bit?

- All right, then. Let's go on with it. Now you got me really interested.

For the first time I sensed a certain hesitation on her initial rejection attitude and it looked like she finally managed to find a challenge in my proposal. And maybe she was excited about the idea.

- You'll lick my pussy, in the end, ok? It must be spotless after all the mess that you'll make me do, right? She asked with a skeptical tone in her voice and the expression of someone still incredulous about what was about to happen.

- It will be my benefit. I promise you'll remain clean and tidy, after the whole celebration.

- Oh my God, I'm afraid I can't do this. I don't know if I can go through with this lunacy. You're completely mad... and I'm no better.

- Once you've started you won't want it to end. Trust me; you'll feel so thrilled abusing me. Just think how much fun.

Having said that, I instructed her to get up and come to me, encouraging her to take the action she should perform. She was noticeably more nervous than I, hesitating as she walked towards me.

- How do you want me to do it? Should I stay standing above you or squatting over your head?

- I'm not to be the one giving the instructions, here. You must do it as you feel more comfortable, in the most rewarding way. You're supposed to have fun with this, remember? My role here is to fulfill your needs, handle your urges without complaining and feel happy about it. My only wish -- if I'm entitled to one -- is that you look straight to my face while you do it. Oh, it's true! There's one last feature: I also need you to work on your aim, ok? I added, laughing.

She smiled, a bit restless, and began to undress. She started with the skirt, which slowly slipped to the floor, disclosing her slender and shapely legs, and then the sweater, unveiling the rest of her curvaceous body, her magnificent perky breasts. Soon she was only in her panties and bra, keeping the black stockings and the garter belt. For the time being, I hoped. She was wearing a white seamless t-shirt bra, with foam-lined cups, and matching white cotton panties, seeming very comfortable.

Despite the missing action my erection remained unchanged the whole time we were chatting, raging against my briefs. My natural lubricant, which continued to leak, had completely soaked the side bands of my underpants and the carpet on the floor where I was lying.

- It never crossed my mind taking part in such a weird situation, she insisted. I must be crazy doing this!

Saying this she stood up above my chest, facing me, with her legs apart and my body between them, providing an unbelievable view of her gorgeous body which extended above me. From my watching angle I had this great sight of her crotch and the white cotton strip between her legs, the soft stand of her beloved cunt, the very object of worship I celebrated, a while ago, in her bathroom.

- You must be desperate, to submit yourself willingly to this ordeal, exposing yourself to this kind of humiliation, she still vented.

- There's nothing for me to agree with. I was the one who proposed it to you, in the first place, remember? I'm doing it incited by an unrestricted urge to adore you... and driven by extreme lust, I must admit. And my will -- or, rather, the lack of it -- has nothing to do with it.

During countless seconds, the smooth fabric of her panties remained spotless and nothing really exciting was happening down there. I could see an effort expression on her face, followed by a slight annoyance look, due to the unsuccessful tries.

- Take your time, I advised. It's not worth putting too much strain on the attempt. Let it run smoothly. Let it flow easily. It's going to happen as soon as your anxiety disappears.

And so there it was, at last. A small wet spot started to spread out through the white strip but stopped before it was drenched, leaving only a slight dampness in her inner thighs, by the white stripe borders.

After a while, a sudden relief finally lit up Andrea's face. I guess she finally reached her balance point: the long awaited wonder was about to happen.

I was obsessed with the next squirt, which I believed was imminent, and anxiously hoping it would be plentiful enough to drench the fabric of her panties and start to drip. I was eager to have a fair excuse to put my tongue and lips to good use, licking her legs and trying to catch the first drips that oozed.

I didn't have to wait long. A few moments later, a stronger spurt came out, flooding the fabric underneath her pussy, which hasn't been able to stem the warm golden flow and sprinkled my chest and chin. Finally I was given the blessing of tasting her by licking the few drops that fell near my mouth, which I did in total bliss.

- To the mouth, please, I begged desperately. Aim to the mouth.

I slid my body down a little more, just when the pee gush stopped. Before my distress, Andrea assured me that the next spurt would hit the eager target, as I yearned for.

- I believe I'm getting control over my pee stream, she promised. Your devoted persistence will be rewarded, next time.

And, as expected, I didn't have to wait long for the next burst. Using two fingers, she pulled the gusset of her panties aside, leaving that gorgeous pink fountain in plain sight. This time, the long-awaited spurt hit me fairly straight in the mouth.

I was heavily committed to fulfill my promise and I tried not to waste a single drop but was caught by surprise by the strong stream (which made me gargle a bit, at first), having some difficulty to gulp it all down. But it only took a moment to pull myself together, however, striving to drink all the pee I could take, in large gulps. The rush to swallow wouldn't let me enjoy its taste, in the first mouthfuls.

For the first time since we started, her face was glowing and her initial expression of disgust suddenly turned into a look of sheer delight, while she witnessed my efforts not to choke on that heavy torrent, flowing so copiously that I could hardly drain it.

Three more spurts would follow, plentiful and warm, each more accurate than the preceding one. Needless to say I was overjoyed with the strong-tasting flavor, the stout aroma and the soothing warmth of this magnificent treat.

By the time of the second squirt I couldn't hold back my impending orgasm any longer and ejaculated abundantly, aroused to ecstasy just by the warmth of her pee soaking my underpants, no hands involved. Two strong squirts of sperm went across my briefs and slid down through the wet tissue, mixing with Andrea's precious stream.

I was all worn out, my arms and legs shaking and aching and a strong salty taste in my mouth. The long-awaited experience had by far exceeded my best expectations. My only concern was now to realize what would be Andrea's verdict about this routine. Would she be willing to give it continuity and, maybe, turn it into a ritual? As to me, I'd sell my soul just to be granted one more single session like this one.

When we finished, without saying a word, she took off her garter belt and stockings and undressed the soaking wet panties, dropped them on my chest and squatted over my head, placing her crotch right above my mouth. I realized that the time had come to carry out my part of the pledge: I should now clean her pussy. I restlessly searched for her clit with my tongue, having no trouble finding it, so swollen it was.

I pressed her clit again and again, with my tongue, alternating small licks with quick sucks. Soon she started to moan heavily, swinging her pussy over my mouth, adjusting the pace to the increasing point of excitement, taking the highest achievable pleasure from the tongue rubbing and the lip sucking. A few moments later she came, releasing a long squirt, which I sipped eagerly to the very last drop. It tasted rather different, with a bittersweet flavor, musky aroma and a thicker texture.

When we were done, she stood up and headed for the bathroom, saying she would shower. I humbly asked her to let me watch and she nodded. I got up, dripping, and followed her to the bathroom.

The bath zone has two bordering spaces: a shower compartment, inside a clear glass cabin, and a round bath, at the other end, where I sat while she took her shower. I begged her to let me watch while she bathed, to which she consented on one condition: I had to jerk-off once more, until orgasm. For the third time in less than two hours I was supposed to ejaculate once more.

Fearing not having anything left to give, I still tried to argue with my ripe age but she insisted on seeing everything I got, claiming that this was no challenge for rookies.

- No mercy, old man! This is your fantasy, right? Jerk it off for me, while I watch you doing it. It's not my fault that you have cum just like a little boy who stares to his first wet cunt for the first time, right? A veteran daily wanker, with almost fifty years of practice, turned into a sixty year old premature ejaculator? I don't think so!

You begged for domination and abuse, right? Well, here's your chance. I demand watching you jerking off for me, right now, until you cum. Or fail trying to.

I agreed, as expected. Still in my underwear, soaked in her pee and my semen, I sat in the tub and prepared myself to watch the show she would certainly perform. She entered the shower cabin unhooking her bra -- which she never took off from the start -- and held the two cups with both hands, for a moment. She kept her tits covered, for a while, staring at me straight in the eye, with an intentionally ambiguous attitude between coy and brazen, offering and teasing.

- These are really your true obsession, am I right? These two bulges of fatty tissue which apparently have the unusual power of turning a normal person into a geek, making a fool of himself before them, isn't it? Behaving as a perfect bore, drooling over them and pleading for submission to no matter what humiliation I can think of? Don't you find it pathetic? No, of course you don't. You are far too oblivious for that.

Without realizing she had entered the game, I reacted to the offensive remark, regretting right after for not having stuck to my role:

- This has nothing to do with normality, I retorted. Nor is it supposed to. It's all about two people pleasing themselves. The first one enjoying her sense of supremacy over the other, the second taking his bliss from the inflicted humiliation. It's that simple: a perfect match.

Andrea finally dropped her bra, throwing it in my direction with a despise gesture. In a contrasting attitude, I seized it as a true object of devotion and held it next to my face, with passion, taking repeated breaths from both cups, which jealously secured the precious scent of her amazing breasts, now fully disclosed before my astonished gaze. This was a genuine premiere, for me.

For the first time in my life I was contemplating those superb breasts, real monuments worthy of a goddess. She had natural breasts, somewhat larger than expected for the size of her body (maybe a 38C), wide and pointy, with highly placed light brown areolas and slightly protruding nipples. The light-tanned skin is gleaming, smooth and has a silky texture, without any wrinkles or stretch marks, despite the generous size of her breasts, perhaps because she's a childless woman, which also explains the virginal appearance of the nipples, yet to debut. These are perky and slightly divergent, bulging out of light-brown areolas with tiny lumps, randomly scattered all over. They are absolutely flawless. If there is a concept of perfection associated with breasts, hers could certainly point it up (pun obviously intended).

In fact, when she removed the bra, her boobs kept turgid and stiff, bending no more than a few millimeters. They look absolutely proud and majestic, offering endless promises of pleasure and lust.

I may have mumbled something, or maybe she was just reading my wandering mind, because, at that very moment, she made this comment, without further ado:

- These are just boobs. Maybe you find them breathtaking (I certainly do, she added proudly) but they are not divine breasts, nor am I a goddess. And, quite prosaically, I yearn for them to be handled with all the care and affection they deserve, and not worshiped as some unreachable and wonderful objects of devotion in a sanctuary. I want them groped, caressed, tightened, squeezed, fondled and sucked properly, as the playful sex objects they are. But of course it won't be you to have this privilege, right? At best you can aspire to jerk off for them, if I'm willing to allow it.

And saying so, she went on cupping and fondling her breasts, holding them with both hands, in the end, like if she was offering them as some delicate exotic fruit. I kept gently rubbing her bra on my cheeks, throughout her monologue. In the end, she stared at me with a compassion look on her face and shot:

- I am well aware that my bra holds a key place on your fantasy. Isn't it a fact that it has parity with my breasts in your foolish worship? Maybe even more, right? Are you a complete pervert or what?

She was quickly getting the hang of it. By now, she was totally responsive to the outcome of her abuse on my bliss and starting to handle it with increasing skills.

- Want to do it for me, is that it? Want me to watch while you do it? Ok. Start stroking you cock, then. Jerk it like a good boy! Slowly up and down, up and down. Go on, jerk it off. You would like to suck on my tits while you do it, wouldn't you? Give me a break, pervert! Stroke it harder and dream on. These beauties are reserved to real men, she kept saying while cupping both boobs in her hands. Rub it hard until you cum, she ordered.

I made myself responsive to her humiliating approach, showing humbleness and obedience. I think Andrea found it increasingly exciting, this idea of her coaching my wank, whereas she continued to cheer me up.

- Keep going; keep sucking my soaked panties and sniffing my bra. I want to see you doing it while you masturbate. Toss this one for me, will you? Keep fucking your hand and honor me. You wish it was my hand sliding along your dick, didn't you? Dream on, jerk boy. I bet you never had the guts to jerk-off in front of anyone before. You don't have what it takes. You're most likely one of those suckers who prefer beating off on the sly, leering at vulnerable women -- whom you never get to take to bed -- sneaking through their intimacy just to get a kick on your sad sexual life. I pity you.

She was getting good at this. Her instructions became more aggressive and her guidance more convincing. And despite being focused on my own routine, it was clear to me that she was having a lot of fun in her opening role as a dome, as the performance improved.

Her pushy talk and provocative gestures were driving me wild and the stress growing beyond control. I was about to lose my grip. I had been increasing the pace of my wank that was now in a frenzied level. Just before I reached total oblivion, I realized I wouldn't be able to hold out much longer and quickly sheltered my throbbing penis in my underpants. My bladder was under the immense pressure of two semen discharges without ensuing relief and the time to unload was imminent. After a second holding back, I released my full bladder, in total abandon, letting my pee flow without any control, flooding my underpants and spilling over to the bathtub in a plentiful golden stream heading towards the drain. I was in total bliss. Then, in the cozy warmth of that flood, it was time to resume my wank cut short: I pulled my dick out of my drenched briefs and started rubbing it, hastily getting to the frantic pace of before. Each scrub caused a sloshing sound due to all the moisture and extreme lubrication. I was so utterly horny that it took only a few rubs to accomplish my third ejaculation, an almost dry one, before Andrea's gaze of fake contempt.

I was fully subjected to this goddess, bewitched and feeling vulnerable to whatever she might want to do with my being, totally deprived free will. And I could have sworn she was intoxicated with this new sensation of absolute power over someone hopelessly at her feet.

I wonder how this relationship will evolve from here.

THE HANGOVER

Andrea walked in the living room, holding two glasses of red wine, and sat on the couch opposite to mine.

- I feel that I'm still missing something here, she exclaimed. I can't understand how an educated and sensitive man like you, with a refined sense of criticism and intellectual training, clearly above average, can demote himself to this primal level, surrendering to the most prosaic weaknesses and demeaning behavior. Not to mention the kinky fetishes, involving bodily fluids and stuff like that, which seemed to me totally weird.

- Weird? Hum... I see! I noticed that you put the verb in the past tense. Revealing, isn't it? Shouldn't we draw some conclusions?

- Ok! I admit I felt a bit elated by the performance. But does it justify we demean ourselves to that point, just to go through this brief moments of joy?

- That is not definitely the question. What really matters is how you feel about the prospect of doing it again. Now that you cooled down, how do you anticipate the possibility of repeating the experience? How do you feel now about the chance of deepening it? You must realize that maybe because we have different expectations regarding the experience, and the fact of only one of us being fascinated by the other, it's normal to have a different understanding about being worth repeating it.

- But no less important is to grasp the reason for someone to persist in a relationship where he is despised. Don't you feel humiliated by this? You are such an interesting person. It would be so easy for you to find someone who could match your standards and, even, your kinky needs and fantasies!? I mean, do you really need this?

- Like the air that I breathe. I need you to see, once and for all, that is not parity which satisfies me but surrender, on the contrary. I can find ecstasy in the humiliation of being dominated by someone I worship, unconditionally. And the gratification I get in return it's so much more intense and rewarding as less consensual the relationship may be. My only goal is to get to this point where I don't have to bother giving orders or instructions, withdrawing all the fun I can get from my helpless condition, totally at mercy of whoever is in charge. Hopefully, it will be you.

I'm not looking for a relationship based on love, respect, equity or mutual trust. It wouldn't work for me if, by some weird chance, you could love me or respect my feelings for you. What I expect from you is total abuse and despise. I need you to violate and degrade me. I have to be constantly reminded of my surrender to you, the person who shows me all the time how ridiculously irrelevant I am for her. If you could do this -- and I know you can -- it would be like living in an everlasting orgasm.