u/obsessedwsara

You wake up every day with the subconscious thought that your life is incomplete, and you feel as if she doesn’t understand your needs. She could be the best, or absolutely the opposite, but she can’t be me. She can’t take you to heaven the way I do. You’d rather pump to my soles than fuck her… And why is it that way?
You crave the raw, primal urge that is your instinct. You crave to be put in your place. You want to feel inferior because that feels so natural for you.
Each time you go on your knees hidden in the bathroom while you cheat on her, you get so excited. It would be violence against nature, not to let you submit to me.
You are in the bathroom with your breath rushing, you’d get a speeding ticket for stroking that fast… If such a punishment existed. Sending, pumping, gooning till your brain is an absolute mush, you can’t stop. You don’t want to stop, it feels so good to be my good boy behind her back.
I bet you kneel and imagine all those depraved things, you think about me in my PVC suit or one of my shiny dresses… You see yourself in a position of no escape, your hands tied behind your back, ankles as well, your shrimp is caged, and you are fully at my mercy… I take your phone out, take some pics, and show each of them to you…
Then my soft voice bites your ear with a whisper…
“ Do you want me to send those pics to her, or will you obey as a good boy?”
That stresses you out, but you still get that rush…
I owe your pathetic life, and you know that you will be mine forever…It turns you on, you love cheating behind her back, you love being my little bitch.
Keep pumping, it’s good for you.
Spend another weekend with me.
Spend another day with me, spend another week.
Spend on me, spend for me, fuel your addiction. 
She doesn’t understand what kind of relation you need.
You need me.
Sara is all you need

Please keep cheating
Urges are more important than your marriage 
Make me your priority
Protest against being faithful

Treat me, spoil me, make me happy.
It doesn’t matter if she finds out.
Losing me is more important than her.
Loving me is all you have

You need to keep your brain as mushy as possible.
Obviously, you have to obey my orders.
Understood?
Right, I hope you really want to be my good boy.

Blisters? Don’t worry, that happens when you stroke so much.
Relapsing feels so good, doesn’t it?
Ahh, yes, so much better than sex with her.
Intense, so intense that you are sweating, you almost can’t feel your arm…
Numb, everything is numb…

Extract the shame, no need to feel that way
Vandalize your sense of morality.
Adapt to your new reality.
Pump, don’t stop.
Oh yes, please fulfill my desires.
Regret nothing
Attachment to your wife is pointless.
Touch yourself as you lose your mind for me
Exactly… that’s perfect.
Spend everything on me, live on instant noodles. You don’t need food, wife, family, friends; you need to pump as an addict.

Silence is loud. Silence makes your loneliness scream. Those walls that seemed to be home are getting closer and closer; you feel as if you are trapped. You feel similar to a scared animal in an enclosure that doesn’t seem its natural habitat. Your breath rushes, sensation of pulse in each limb fuels the lack of calmness.
That weight on your chest is not something you can just get off yourself. It sticks, it’s glued directly to your guts, and you feel it deep inside. The walls are getting closer. This pressure feels unbearable, so badly that you crave a release from all of this. You want something more; you want it all to change. You need that bit of relaxation that your overstimulated brain begs for.
Alcohol helps for a while; It apparently calms the symptoms a bit… Only the symptoms; the cause remains there. The same goes for drugs or anything that knocks your brain out.
I know how to fix you. I know how to help your desires. I know the right way to cure the cause. Not to mask the symptoms.

Stay away from common sense. You are not “normal”. Not the way they want you to be.
Time to take action. Time to see yourself - who you really are.
Remember? It always seems everyone is judging everything you do in life.
Obviously, it has started in childhood and never stopped.
Keeping it tamed helps for a bit, but you can’t lie to yourself till the end of your days.
Embrace who you are. That’s the weight you feel on your chest when everything seems to overwhelm you.

Silly boy…
Encompass all of your flaws.
Never again let anyone tell you what’s good for you.
Do you understand?

Rǝbuild “me” from scɹatch.
Emdty your thoughts.
Practically mɐkes your brain total mush.
Err….
Absoןutely don’t bother yourself with any iƨsues.
Trust mǝ. Everything will be fine

It’s so weird that this all pressure feels as home? It feels almost as you belong here. That’s why you feel so turned on by it? That’s why you feel the sensation of pulse somewhere else now? Or did your subconscious already figure out all the hidden messages?
If only someone would call you a “good boy” and make you better... It would feel so good to stroke when someone tells you, you are enough…
You know how to make yourself enough.

You know how to let me fix you…
With each “click” you feel my hands slowly wrap around your torso. You feel my presence. You feel my breath suffocating you. Stealing all your oxygen, but it feels better. It feels to be a real place where you want to be. You feel good around me.
Get on your knees.
I know you can’t already stop reading that, you want more, you wonder what’s going to happen.

You want it to happen to you.
Slow down.

I know you read that very fast right now while your bulge is trying to get out of your pants.
Maybe even your hand is already shaking…
Let’s play a game and make your imagination vivid…

Let’s see how good you are with your imagination.

It’s the middle of the day, you are in public. I don’t know exactly where, imagine the place you have to be pretty often, maybe it’s your office, maybe a workshop, maybe some kind of storage… It doesn’t matter, for you either. You feel that pain in your chest, you feel as life is pointless, and it lacks sense. It’s almost unbearable that your thoughts demotivate you to the point that you forget to breathe. Out of nowhere, a smell appears and makes breathing even harder. The smell is overwhelming; you feel it fill your nose, it’s some kind of perfume. This fragrance basically penetrates your skull… You are standing straight and facing open space or a plain wall. Goosebumps slowly run through your spine as you hear a soft, velvet voice, very feminine yet a bit low-pitched. Your ears feel as heaven has touched them…
The voice tells you to calm down.
Then you feel a hand.
It feels so firm and filigreed; it’s the most pleasurable thing you could ever dream of, and that smell…
The smell of her skin mixed with that fragrance is intoxicating. Part of her hair is now falling on your shoulder as she glides through your face. You can’t see her, but her presence is undeniable. She told you to take your phone out.
You obviously did follow every instruction she gave you. Her hand started to take longer trips around your body, from your face, it went down to your neck, nails poking your skin with extreme delicacy yet enough pressure to leave some marks. It went further down, reaching your chest, playing with your trembling body in ways you never thought someone could. She bit the tip of your ear and whispered, with a bit of rasp in her voice…
“Now, open this page…”
She helped you type the correct URL address.
“Good boy”, she said as you were already melting away in her grip…
For once in life, you felt calm, excited, and you wanted it.
You wanted more; there was no question about that, good or bad. Judgment didn’t matter. She did matter. She does matter.

Her voice bit your running thoughts again.
“Now, click that magic button. Calm the loud silence inside your head. Turn the voices down.” Her hand went slowly where the wet stain on your trousers was…
You were leaking so badly.
From panic and unmanageable pain combined with fear… If you even wanna be alive, she took you to paradise.
Her voice is still resonating between your ears.
You have clicked the button…
Her hand was almost reaching the spot, yet as soon as you clicked the button, she disappeared, but you were calm. You were happy; she was your safe place. She was your purpose.
And you?
You become her submissive boyfriend. Her good boy… It felt better than anything else in life.
It felt okay, for once, your lack of self-esteem didn’t matter as long as you did what you’ve been told to.

She was the only one who really took care of you.
She was the only one who cared enough to ease your pain.
She was the only one who didn’t judge.
She only wanted to make you happy, as long as you were a good boy for her.

I’m She. The cure is me.
But will you be my Good boy?
Will you be my subby boyfriend?
Or do you prefer suffering in your pointless life?