Unconditional Surrender

- Oh my God! That is really disturbing! I'd ever dare to imagine you in a scenario like this. Who would've thought it?!

- And I hold you completely responsible for it. If you never came into my life, none of this would have happened and I would be a normal person, I stated jokingly. So, you must pay me off for the damages caused, I added with a chuckle.

- You refer to this compulsion towards humiliation as some kind of liberating redemption. This is such a christian thing, typical of deeply religious people. I don't recognize you in this. You're such a rational guy, she declared in total incredulity.

- You're right, this time. It's a religious incident. I'll find liberation in retribution. Being my goddess, you're the only one entitled to punish me. And your majesty will come out of my pain. I will be set free by my donation to your supremacy.

- Wow! I may not be sexually attracted to you but I give you this: you certainly have a way with words and know how to flatter a woman.

- A goddess, I corrected.

- I guess you're right. You don't appeal to me but I must admit that your chat surely turns me on. I wonder how you developed this fixation on me!?

- Haven't you noticed? My, I must be totally irrelevant to you, I admitted. Let me explain, then, how this obsession grew to the extreme stage where it stands, right now.

It had a first platonic chapter, of great suffering, when we were working together, in which I drooled whenever you were present, plunging into a deep agony while you were away, resenting all others who enjoyed your company. I spent days in a row, crying my eyes out, longing for you, and just hoping for the chance of breathing the same air. I call it the "wish you were here" phase. It was completely asexual and you were kept strictly out of my daydreams and delusions of the flesh, no matter how innocent or frantic they might be. It was an unbreakable rule.

There followed a time in which we lost our daily contact and my memories of you started to assault me, fully charged with your sensuality, in a recurring way. Everything reminded me of you and my recollections of our time together somehow managed to mislead my interpretation of your awareness of me.

Gradually, I started to convince myself that I could have had some significance in your life. And, sometimes, I even dared to imagine that you would miss me. But I was too scared to confirm that impression.

It was a time of great delusion and intense sexual indulgence. You appeared in all my fantasies and I built very elaborate and sophisticated scenarios to give context and credibility to those fantasies. I spent my days engaged in endless masturbation sessions and went edging for hours, using every single photo of you to indulge myself to climax. During that period I must have wanked over you hundreds of times, paying tribute to countless copies of your photos, over which I invariably ended up spilling my semen.

The next step would involve a careful selection of your pictures, by choosing the sharpest images of your head, intended to photo assemblage with bodies of beautiful women chosen on the internet, either naked or wearing lingerie. This phase is still ongoing and my collection has already a few dozen fakes, some of which I consider genuine masterpieces. Needless to say, every single one of them inspired numerous wanks, either after the work completed or during the making process. Despite having always chosen the most fantastic bodies, the most magnificent breasts, the juiciest pussies, I must now admit that my imagination fell short of reality. You have a body to die for.

As we speak, the ultimate thrill goes to the written text, a very colorful erotic fiction played by two characters: you and me, the mistress and the submissive male, the beauty and the beast. These are the chronicles of our daily meetings, the only stage where our roles reverse: I unleash my imagination and re-create my fantasies, without boundaries or constraints, leading us to extreme situations, only restricted by the imagination. I'll take you as far as my rampant desire leads, passively on your demanding role.

She paid careful attention to my tale, during which her facial expression was changing, between amazement and commiseration, compliment and disapproval, praise and disgust. For the first time since I met her, I noticed a momentary loss of the usual self confidence in her look, the glimpse of an emotional delivery to this delusional universe where I was dragging her to, while I confessed my most perverse fantasies. She was an absolutely lucid and reasonable woman but I think I had been able to surprise her beyond the indulgence she usually devoted to me. Finally, she resumed control and was able to react:

- Well! I don't know whether to be mad or simply flattered. I feel like I had been raped but bearing mixed feelings regarding the rapist. I'm appalled! Are you insane? You think this is an suitable behavior for a fully grown man? I don't know what to think... or say, for this matter! One thing is for certain: I never expected you to do something like this. Not in a million years!

One thing we can say on your behalf, however: you did not hesitate to confess your perversion, eyes facing the 'victim'. It remains to be seen whether is courage or nerve.

- I'm guilty of this one, too. I guess I keep on masturbating here, without the slightest shame, I confessed sheepishly. Hope you can forgive me, I humbly stated.

- No way! Don't think you'll get away that easily! There's a severe punishment waiting for you, she said in a fake but convincing harsh mode.

There are so many things I want to know about this dark side of yours, the perversions and gloomy secrets. In particular, those that concern or involve me apart from my awareness. You must understand that my involuntary engagement in these sinister activities, as an inspiring object, makes me a sort of rape victim and I'm not sure about how I should feel regarding this, whether flattered or abused. And you must be absolutely honest about it, if your longing is to surrender to my supremacy and remain subject to my will. If I must have absolute control over your spirit, I have to be acquainted with your most intimate weaknesses and deepest flaws and be aware or your darkest secrets.

And assuming a solemn pose, she added:

- This is the most critical moment of your decision. Once you accept my terms, there's no turning back. You're going to be absolutely in my hands. This will be the last time that you decide something by yourself or take choices in your own hands. And, from this moment on, I will deal with you as I see fit and decide about you strictly on account of my own benefits and satisfaction, never taking in consideration your interest or well-being. I will demand no less than unreserved worship, respect and devotion. Do you think you're ready for that? Remember that your yearning for me won't ever be matched and your submissive behavior will make me pity you and lose any shred of respect I might have for you. Last but not least, keep in mind that I can be a real bitch when I want to.

Oh, yes! That can be very stimulating for me: having absolute power over my prey, be able to manipulate him at ease, voiding his spirit and put him unconditionally under my will. This I understand. What puzzles me is how anyone can put himself to it, willingly, enjoying the humiliation that comes along and accepting being degraded in such a role of submission. That can be really weird.

- That I can easily explain. Let me tell you a story.

The last time I remember taking a break in my compelling routine, I was jerking off for 36 straight days, sometimes more than once a day, just skipping weekends.

As I get older, this ever-increasing addiction to masturbation requires an enduring focus in my cock, which I feed through endless hours by the computer, looking at erotic pictures and movies or writing down my daily sexual urges, memories and fantasies.

Every once in a while I need to take a break, not due to a sex drive shortage -- which happily never turn out until now -- but because I feel dry and sore and the intensity of ecstasy begins to decrease. My last quarantine lasted for 21 days but in the end I thought I'd go mad, making impossible for me to go out. In fact I feared not being able to control myself and start masturbating, on the mere sight of the first tasty woman that showed up.

The quarantine ended unexpectedly when a young woman knocked on my door, announcing some new internet service provider. She was far from attractive but proudly exhibited a large pair of tits, sagging slightly under the jersey with a v-shaped neckline, revealing a fair amount of cleavage and the soft swelling of her nipples, under the fabric weight.

The few words I was able to mumble were said with my eyes glued to her breasts, while a huge boner ostensibly grew under my loose pants, with the greatest impudence. Both embarrassed, she failed to finish her presentation, apologized awkwardly and left in a hurry. Having reached the point of no return, preventing an ejaculation was no longer in my hands. So I abandoned myself to the inevitable and came in my underpants, copiously, soaking them all over, even before I had the chance to close the door.

Objectively, the scene was deplorable and deeply humiliating: there I was, standing at the front door, with a dark spot quickly wetting my trousers and a sticky stuff dripping down my legs on to the floor.

But who cared? Do you think I felt any shame for the possibility of anyone seeing me in that ridiculous situation? On the contrary: how I wished that someone could have witnessed this embarrassing moment. It's just like when you caught me masturbating in your bathroom: that very instant of total abandonment was the most gratifying moment and boosted the peak of ecstasy far beyond the usual pleasure I get from a regular orgasm.

This emotion of absolute capitulation, when your will is no longer under your control, is the one which defines the true nature of submission as the most intense, authentic and rewarding source of my sexual gratification. Unconditional surrender allows you to reach the top stage of lust which you never dreamed as possible. And that, my dear, is something reserved only to those who are able to deprive themselves of their own spirit and hand it over to other, willingly. I dare you to compare this with the pleasure that you pull out of domination.