Unconditional SurrenderUnconditional Surrender


Sometime after our new co-worker arrived at the office we started attending the house she rented in the neighborhood. The company headquarters sent her to fix some image problems created by the previous management and she was supposed to stay in the local branch for a few months, until her work was completed.

Andrea is an unmarried woman in her early forties, much on the liberated executive type, with no evident ties.

Her arrival set off a big commotion in the office as she gets everything it takes to arouse the male gender and never hesitates to use these attributes to maintain men orderly and disciplined around her. And she certainly knows how to do it effectively. She is a gorgeous brunette with a slender figure, wearing high heels and suggestive clothes, which enhance her curvaceous body, always dressing with impeccable taste. She has a seductive somewhat dominant attitude and a velvety hoarse and warm voice that leaves no man indifferent.

After some time in the office, our relationship was deepening and we started to attend her house, on the pretext of weekend dinners, birthday parties or any other excuse.

As we were getting at ease with each other, the conversations typically became refined and stimulating, as the mood got relaxed. It was not uncommon that the issues under discussion went beyond the threshold of intimacy of the participants, occasionally evolving to teasing innuendo.

During one of our most recent visits, the chat grew into hotter topics, as usually happened after a few drinks. My eyes alternated between Andrea’s gorgeous cleavage and her fabulous thighs, in a hypnotic movement that surely granted me a stupid look.

She was wearing a skin-tight gray sweater that brought out the charming swell of her breasts. And even if there was a bra holding them, which was the case (the seamless bra line was quite obvious), we could clearly notice the little bumps of her nipples, poking against the fabric. The black body-hugging skirt was sliding up, inch by inch, each time she shifted and crossed her shapely legs, revealing a bit more of flesh and allowing a glimpse at the black lace garters on the top of the stockings.

After a while, I was having serious trouble trying to conceal a ridiculous hard-on that began to form as the conversation progressed, becoming so evident that everyone would eventually notice. I was so embarrassed that I used the most ordinary excuse to leave the room, as fast as I could, and find a way to appease the wicked urge.

I instinctively walked to the bathroom, without a hint of how to ease the unwanted hard-on, considering that the most obvious way out seemed odd, at the moment. As I locked in, I felt a hurried need to relieve the increasing strain I brought from the living room, where I believe everybody should be now making playful remarks about the situation, which put me in an unpleasant mood.

In the privacy of the bathroom, however, a rewarding wank started to seem like a good way to get the urgent relief I needed so badly. Maybe I could even take an extra advantage of the therapy and burn up some of the booze that was blurring my judgment and disabling my self-control. On impulse I looked for something I could use to boost my wank session and the laundry basket came up, like a revelation. The anticipation of finding any piece of Andrea’s lingerie in the basket turned the whole thing in an exhilarating deed and made me shudder: an emergency incident was about to become a devout experience. Paradise could be just ahead.

And… yes, my wish came true: there was a set of white panties and a half-cup bra. Just perfect: embroidered lace on soft white cotton. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. My heart rate suddenly sped up as I reclaimed the unexpected award. I was in bliss.

By then, I had already lost the slightest concern about my return to the living room, where my host and the other guests would be likely to make teasing speculations about my delay. Nothing mattered to me anymore. I felt blissful and aware that I was on the verge of a unique and transcendent experience, a male celebration of female supremacy, ecstatic before her charms, grateful for her gift, blessed by her vicinity, surrendered unconditionally to her will, in a worship ritual by way of a major symbol of her womanliness and erotic essence: her lingerie.

My penis pulled off an uncommon vigor as I picked up the bra from the laundry basket, growing madly under my pants, challenging the fabric integrity, already stretched to its limit. My mind went on displaying recurrent images of Andrea’s breasts, bulging under the tight sweater, her nipples poking beneath the bra and the jersey cloth, defying the resistance of both.

I devotedly took the bra to my nose, breathed in and instantly recognized the delicate scent of her body, a whiff so dear to me. Then, I gently wrapped my penis in the bra straps and began Kadıköy Öğrenci Escort to squeeze it slightly by pulling the ends, the glans restless inside one of the cups, smoothly rubbing it against the soft fabric.

Meanwhile, I took the panties from the hamper and started to wet the gusset with my tongue, licking it gently in long and slow strokes, at first, and sucking it eagerly, later on, tasting the flavors let loose by the moisture as the fabric got drenched and began to release the exquisite essence of the juices gathered there, a luscious blend of vaginal lubricant and urine, a subtle and unique combination of genius. The musky scent and the bittersweet flavor seemed to me like the quintessence of delight, the ultimate indulgence. That was paradise.

So I had this sudden vision of Andrea entering the bathroom, at this very moment, (how I wished it was for real!…) catching me red-handed and oblivious, totally helpless and unable to respond, profaning her intimacy without a shred of excuse or regret, longing for the most ruthless punishment I could deserve. I was staging my ultimate fantasy.

These thoughts may have rushed the final ecstasy and, suddenly, a violent shiver ran through my body and all the craving was focused in one single spot: my swollen penis, almost aching, the shining red glans throbbing, about to burst, which I kept frantically rubbing in harsh strokes, against the silky fabric of the bra cup.

Every muscle in my body stiffened while a massive orgasm began to grow in my balls. My eyes rolled up in their sockets when, finally, my cock burst, spitting out a few spurts of sperm that flooded the bra cup, as I finally swallowed the precious blend of delicate flavors stored in my mouth, drained from the panties during the worship ritual.

I came down to earth with a slight knock on the bathroom door and Andrea’s voice whispering from the outside:

– Still jerking off? Take your time! Our friends have already left. You can use my dirty underwear but make sure you clean your mess in the end, ok? If you need some Kleenex, or something to clean up with, you can find it in the top shelf of the cabinet.

I was appalled. Was it that obvious that I needed a wank so desperately? Where the hell would I find the guts to get out of the bathroom and face her, after this? At this point she must be thinking I’m a freak. And she’s right! What kind of weirdo goes to his friend’s home and locks himself in the bathroom masturbating to her bra? What kind of pervert will she take me for?

After a few seconds she insisted, trying to make me comfortable:

– Don’t worry, ok? I totally understand your rush. I’m not innocent. I can easily tell a masturbator when I see one. It’s no big deal. I’m used to it, believe me, she said, in a mockery tone.

I was completely embarrassed and having serious trouble to find the right words to deal with the awkward situation. I was speechless. But, in a strange way, I felt invaded by an odd sensation of intimacy with her, as it never happened before nor I would imagine possible. In fact, I always thought of her as someone unattainable who would never see me as worthy of her sexual benefits. Not in a million years. I wouldn’t dare to imagine her as a sexual partner, even in my wildest dreams. She was definitely out of my league.

– Come out when you’re ready, she insisted. I guess we must take care of this tiny weakness of yours. I think you’re becoming addicted to your little habit, aren’t you? We must do something about it, she said, giving a little laugh.

I rushed out of the bathroom the minute I could, after putting back her lingerie in a hurry. I felt in a state of deep humiliation but, strangely, this was turning into a very rewarding feeling. I was taking an immense gratification from the humiliation I was subjected to. And this was completely new to me.

When I returned to the living room she was already alone and waiting for me with a roguish smile. She winked at me while pointing the chair in front of her, telling me to sit.

– Don’t take it the wrong way! It was just a prank. If you must know, it was my idea to tease you. We agreed that I’d give you a generous view of my breasts and let my skirt rise far beyond my knees. Soon we were taking bets on how long would you be able to hold out before giving in to the urge of rubbing one off.

– You were taking bets? I asked outraged.

– Yes. I hope you don’t get mad. I’m good with it and trust you feel at ease, too. Honestly!

– You knew I was going to? I blurted out, incredulously.

– You’re kidding, right? Nobody in the room had any doubt about it. You behave like a regular masturbator. We could drown in your drool when you started to play dumb, staring at me. You don’t believe, for sure, that your getaways to the bathroom will pass unnoticed, right? She mocked.

I was devastated. Kadıköy Çıtır Escort Where would I find the nerve to appear before my friends after this humiliation? I felt mortified.

– I’m so sorry, I muttered in absolute despair.

– Snap out of it. In fact I had already wagered with them about me being probably the most “tributed” person among our friends.

– What do you mean? I don’t get it! I said, uncomfortable.

– You don’t pretend being the only person to masturbate thinking about me, do you? How do you think I manage to spot a masturbator, so easily? I spend my days doing it, for my sins. Sometimes I wish a real man could show up from among all you pathetic wankers, once and for all.

My shame grew as she kept on. She was now very upset. The sense of flattery had been replaced by contempt, as she regretted the lack of manhood around her.

– There are some advantages you must notice: an idolater is willing to do anything to please the object of his worship: absolute submission, total surrender, far beyond the mere sexual satisfaction. Does it mean anything to you?

– It depends on how desperately I crave for a real cock inside me, she retorted harshly. I’m fed-up with platonic devoted fans, useless to satisfy my needs. Let’s be honest: you never really wanted to fuck me, did you? You just expect to seize an everyday bra or a pair of panties and jerk off, the first chance you get. That’s how high your expectations rise, as far as I’m concerned, right? I’m not supposed to be a sex partner but just your fetish supplier, isn’t that it?

– No. That’s not just it. It’s the humiliation that comes along, which turns me on, enormously. It’s the common feeling of not being worthy of your benefits, always granted to others, providing delights never consented to me. I got used to pull satisfaction out of your lack of interest. Your coldness burns me and I learned to take an extreme pleasure out of that indifference, I stated.

– But that’s insane. No one can survive that without serious damage to his sexual life. I refuse to be an accessory to that, she remarked, aggravated.

– But that’s exactly what it is. That’s the only thing that is not under your control: my decision to submit to you, devotedly and unconditionally. That’s where I find pure bliss.

– What the fuck! Why can’t you behave like any other normal guy? Fancy me and try to get me into the sack, as any other horny male would do?

– Let’s face it, Andrea! You’re way out of my reach. How do you expect me to even dare? Would you ever let me touch you? And I’m not complaining because I’m fully aware that I don’t deserve more than wish for what I’ll never get. Fondle your tempting breasts? Caress your thighs or kiss you between your legs? You’d never allow it, no matter how I beg, although you keep teasing me all the time. So, what’s left for me? Fantasize over you, hold on to that thought and masturbate to it, like crazy, every time I get the chance. Would you blame me for doing everything in my power to make my fantasy as real as possible? Can you imagine something higher than grab your bra and bring it into play to arouse my vision of me playing your breasts? Or suck your worn panties and imagine I’m licking your cunt?

Suddenly, her expression became roguish. She stopped her angry speech and asked, point-blank:

– And exactly how far would you be willing to go with me? I may — just may! — consider the possibility, you know? Now I’m making it just depend on your guts. I put it in your hands, entirely. Just how much would you dare? She asked with a sudden interest.

At this time, curiosity overcame the resentment and her concern became obvious. Somehow, she had been seized by the underlying thrill of becoming the owner of my will, an unexpected elation ensuing from the idea of an absolute supremacy over someone who accepts unconditionally surrender to her domination. And the expression on her face made the emotion appear so clearly.

Maybe this was the right opportunity for taking all risks. This could be the moment to bet everything, despite the remote likelihood of realizing my fantasy. It was the time to move forward, decisively.

– I’ll go willingly, just as far as you demand. Whatever you fancy, I’ll do it without hesitation, I stated with assent.

– Somehow I don’t think so. I can be very creative, you know? I’m a moody person, as you well know. Are you sure you want to go on with this? She asked with a naughty accent.

– As you well know, a submissive person is able to handle all this with absolute acceptance, which is, incidentally, the primary source of sexual gratification, I declared with total conviction.

– Very well! I’m convinced. Let me think of something truly bizarre. Would you, by any chance, let me pee on you?

– You don’t ask for permission. You command. You require that I’m there for Kadıköy Elit Escort you, whenever you feel like it, taking your pee all over me and be grateful for that. In fact, I’ll do better than that: I will take it in my mouth and drink it with the utmost pleasure to the last drop.

– Holy shit! You can’t be serious, right? I was just kidding; I suggested the weirdest thing that came into my mind but never thought that you would take it seriously. Not in a million years. Are you really serious about that crazy idea of me peeing on you? I’ll be damned! And you must be out of your mind.

– Dead serious. Take my word for it. I can prove it to you right now. Just say it.

– This can’t be true. I don’t believe this is happening to me. Would you, really?

– Try me! I dared.

And saying this, I was trembling, from head to toe, facing at last the chance to carry out the fantasy I cherished for so many years. I felt a little dizzy, like I was outside myself looking at the staging that was about to be held. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

– Now, there’s something I didn’t expect from you. Are you really into that kind of kinky stuff or are you just trying to make an impression? I confess I couldn’t see you as a common pervert, degrading yourself in exchange for brief satisfaction. Do you really fancy abuse and humiliation?

– That’s not it, I mumbled in shame. I yearn for being dominated by you and feel capable of submitting to your whims, no matter how odd they may be. Total surrender, that’s what grants supreme pleasure to me.

– But… being peed on? Drinking wee? I’m appalled! I just suggested something that came to my mind and I believe that would be unacceptable to you, something you would absolutely refuse to do. I’m shocked!

– You didn’t really get it, did you? It doesn’t matter. It’s my benefit if you’re willing to share something so personal with me. It’s your pee we’re talking about, something that comes out of your dearest insides, which I cherish so much. You’re a princess and it’s my privilege if you let me prove my devotion to you. It may seem you’re abusing me but we’ll both know, in our hearts, I’m being granted your deepest intimacy. Indulge me. Honor me, please, I beg you.

The earlier expression of flattery returned to her face. She was clearly impressed and pleased with the honesty of my yield. It was noticeable the whirlwind of thoughts crossing her mind. At that very moment she was conquered by the world of possibilities unleashed by that confession. She finally realized my irrevocable bound to any wish that she could devise and let herself intoxicate, for a moment, with this unexpected feeling of absolute power over someone’s will.

Without saying a word, Andrea pointed out the kitchen and ordered me to strip. Then she handed me a white rug and told me to lay it on the kitchen floor.

Obeying her instructions, I started to undress and headed to the designated place, where — all led to believe — I was about to take my first golden shower. My hands were shaking so much that simple tasks like unbutton my shirt or open the zipper of my jeans became almost impossible. When I finally managed to pull down my pants, she couldn’t help noticing the raging hard-on under my briefs.

– I really can’t believe it. How can you be in that state of arousal, only a few minutes after you jerked off? How is it possible? Didn’t you come when you took that wank in the bathroom, just a while ago? Honestly! You turned out to be quite a masturbator! Leave your briefs on. I want to check when your cock will tear the fabric, she said in a playful manner.

At this stage I could hardly hold the foretold outburst. It seemed I was returning to my boyhood when I could easily reach orgasm without touching my cock. It has been quite a while since I wasn’t that horny.

Lying on the carpet, as instructed, my position unveiled a huge erection that made my briefs look like a tent, with a stiff pole stretching the cloth. Strained against the fabric, the throbbing head of my cock started to leak an unusual quantity of precum and a transparent stain spread throughout my briefs, revealing the purple color of my glans about to burst, underneath. The gooey stuff ran through the fabric and gathered in both groins, making small puddles. Never before — nor even in my wildest jerk off sessions — had I been able to produce such a huge amount of that tasty precum I use to lick from my fingers while I masturbate.

She didn’t miss a single detail of what was going on, quietly lying back in a big chair, by the fire. Lazily, Andrea started to give a slight massage on her crotch, while drinking a large glass of orange juice. As if she could read my thoughts, she ordered:

– Get rid of that filthy goo, will you? I want you to remove all that slime from your underpants — and your groins, I believe — and lick it all from your fingers.

I guess she was getting the hang of it, fast. The first try was very convincing. I hurried up to accomplish her command, concealing my great pleasure in fulfilling the order, contrary to what she expected. I wish I had so much precum available during my regular masturbation sessions.

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