#beta surrender

[thinking-mans-submissive]

He is Man-spreading on a plane.

Oh god, please no. As I'm corraled further down the aisle I see that the man in front of me, the seemingly arrogant man who is apparently too big for His assigned space and is spilling out into the narrow aisle, is indeed blocking entrance to my assigned seat, the one right next to Him.

"Excuse me," I say in a flat tone. He barely looks up from His phone long enough to give me an assessing stare. He finishes His text before standing to let me pass. Asshole!

And what's with the flip flops? I mean, what a douche bag, right?

When He's forced to tuck in and buckle up His broad shoulders squeeze me flat against the cramped seat. It's then that I catch a whiff of His cologne. It's all Male and I begrudgingly have to concede that He smells real good.

Only after He's told twice to turn off His phone by an impatient and young, gay flight attendant with attitude does He seem to notice me. I can tell because He spreads His legs ever so slightly and relaxes His shoulders to effectively pin me down further. I'm just about to say something when He turns His head slightly and speaks to me without looking at me.

"Shh! Be a good boy."

What the actual fuck? And just like that, I am brought under control in a shocked and immediate state of sub space. I'm frozen and freaked out and my heart is racing. And for once, I am totally speechless. I have tensed up so tightly that He must feel it through our clothes. He chuckles to Himself and turns to look at me.

"Do you have an owner?"

My head is about to explode off my shoulders. To say I am flabbergasted would be a gross understatement. These things just don't happen, right? Yes, He's hot as fuck, but He knows it too, and that's just annoying as hell. I'm not some weak willed, shit for brains sub. Right? Right?? Why the hell am I even thinking along these lines! His beautiful green eyes are boring into me. He wants an answer. And in my befuddled state, the quickest answer is unfortunately the truth.

"No."

He raises an eyebrow and looks sternly at me, but I see some amusement in His eyes as well. He's playing with me. But I can't fight my instincts.

"No, Sir. I don't." My mouth is now too dry to say anything more, which is fine because He just give me a satisfied, cocky smile and leans His head back, closing His eyes as the plane takes off the runway.

I cannot move, which is a blessing because I'm frozen in place anyway. My wide downcast eyes are fixed on His thick muscled thigh and I have to remind myself to breathe. I force myself to relax a bit and I give in to my state of confinement. Slowly my breathing returns to normal but now my dick is coming to life as I realize how much I've revealed about myself in just a few words. How the fuck did He know?

When the same flight attendant returns with a drink cart, she starts with the lady in the window seat, who orders a Seven Up. He then looks at me and I'm about to ask for the same when Asshole jumps in and says, "He'll have a water and I'll take a vodka and cranberry." The attendant looks at me as if to see if I have something to say. I am once again speechless and just nod with a polite smile. The attendant gives a cold look to Asshole, who hands him His card for a quick swipe.

When he's gone, Asshole says, once again without looking directly at me, "You need to watch the calories." Thankfully, the woman next to me has her headphones on.

A few minutes pass, during which time I've worked myself up into an indignant frenzy. With a shaky voice, I manage to say without turning my head, "What is happening here?" If I try to say anything more I know I'm going to lose it.

He turns and demands my attention. My eyes lock with His. "What's happening is you've got three hours to convince me that you can obey orders and are worth my time." He leans in closer. I can smell the alcohol on His breath. "At a minimum, I get a blow job out of it. At best, I get to have some fun with you and find out what you're made of. What can you take. And how you respond to be fucked within an inch of your life. Anymore questions?"

All I can do is shake my head no and close my mouth.

[thinking-mans-submissive]

I Don't Know Why

You grow up gay in a small southern town in the heart of the Bible Belt, you learn how to cruise the parks. You learn how to cruise big country boys and married men who think you're shit but will gladly use your mouth, if not your ass. I don't know how you learn it; you just do. You learn how to read and interpret the signaling as you cruise past one another that says, "I'm interested."

As dangerous as it is, you spend countless hours visiting the same spots day after day, trying to be inconspicuous. You're willing to risk jail, imprisonment, or worse. I don't know why.

There's no chance of a relationship. The most you can hope for is some sort of regularity and future preplanning. You'll never know their names and they don't want to know anything about you. If you see each other in public, they will keep eye contact just long enough to let you know that you're not to approach them - ever.

These were my formative gay years. I contributed to the male hierarchy and toxic masculinity of the small redneck community I lived in by cowering deferentially to anyone who would let me suck their dick. And when things got rough, it was my fault for being a dirty cock-sucking faggot who's going to hell. The truly disturbing thing is that it was usually the guys who roughed me up that I'd do cartwheels for, hoping for another change to be used.

Those men were usually the town's "famous" all-American college football jocks or power-DILFs that were respected in the community. I used to think "if only people knew" when I was being plowed into the ground, face down with gravel and stick pressed into my face by the quarterback or being held down on the city councilman's thick dick as I choked and gagged from the passenger seat of his truck.

Once they got past the disgust of a fag sucking their cock and started to enjoy it they'd progress to fucking, because by then I had lost all my humanity in their eyes. I was a useful means to an end - a way to get their rocks off and vent a little anger and aggression.

And when they realized I enjoyed it ...

That would really piss them off. Black eyes I'd have to explain to my parents. Cigarette burns and bruises I'd try to hide. A sprained wrist. And other invasive horrors. So I had to do my best to hide what I was - a masochistic submissive.

[thinking-mans-submissive]

We're not out here to hike. He removes me from the relative safety of the familiar and its populace to a place of obscurity far off the beaten path, a place where no one will be within miles to witness my undoing, hear my screams, or come to my rescue. And I go willingly for the privilege of being more fully at His mercy.

His expensive sandals give me easy access to the large feet I will be worshipping soon. But first, He is eager to have my mouth on His cock and my throat opened for His piss, which He's been saving up on the long, quiet ride out to nowhere.

His body is easy to worship, and I know what a great honor it is to be chosen as an objective of service. I have no shame or pride and take to the task with enthusiasm, licking and kissing and sucking every inch of exposed skin in adoration and worship. His heavy cock stuffs my mouth and the torrent of piss is sudden and strong, causing me to choke and swallow in haste as tears stream from my eyes.

My lips form a tight seal around His hardening cock as the steady stream bloats my stomach. The firm grip of His hand on the back of my head tells me He is pleased, and that's all that matters to me.

Next it's His feet. I lathe each one with my tongue, lapping between His toes and licking the soles, desperate to be degraded, desperate to show my submission. He smiles and pushes against my face.

Finally, He lifts me up by the hair and shoves me against the tailgate of His truck. There is no lube; He wants it to hurt. He's big enough to split me open but the lack of lube makes it ten times worse. I scream and try to pull away only to receive a hard hit to the head and firm grip on my waist. He works the throbbing head of His dick inside me and once He has sufficient purchase, slams into me with a ferocity meant to inflict maximum pain and suffering.

After what feels like an eternity, I am a limp rag doll in His grip, broken and shattered and torn. He throbs and jerks inside me, spilling a thick load that soon oozes from my wrecked hole as He continues to breed and claim me as His.

Despite being near comatose with pain and a sense of deep paralyzing sub space, i fall to my knees and suck His spent cock clean before He lifts me and shoves me over the tailgate into the back of the truck. The ride back will be hot and uncomfortable but it's a perfect conclusion to a day of service, worship, and submission. And it is right and good.

[thinking-mans-submissive]

Absolute Possession.

You are one sadistic son of a bitch. Just when i start to feel like myself again, when i can feel the ground firmly beneath my feet once more, You come back into my life like a tornado, destroying my sanity with just a touch. 

i am too stunned to shut the door and too afraid to protest when You force Your way inside. You look devilish handsome as always and i hate myself for feeling a much to familiar pang of desire. But the shock and fear of seeing You again has triggered an automatic shut-down. You quickly narrow the distance between us, shutting the door behind You before grabbing me by the neck just hard enough to remind me of how my body sings when You make me hurt for You. You smell like an Alpha should and i know i’m already defeated.

“Did you think I would just let you go, foolish boy? That I’d be fine with you whoring your pussy out for anyone but me? That’s right ... I know all about the ‘boyfriend,’ you weak-minded little bitch. Settling down, are we? Does he take you on dates and treat you nice? Bet he doesn’t know what a pain whore you are, or how beautifully your cunt takes my big dick.”

Your warm breath against my skin ignites my senses and i can’t stop the shiver that runs through my entire body as You hold me close. God help me; i want to turn my head and kiss Your lips but i can’t move.

“What’s the boyfriend going to think when he sees how nicely your pale skin colors when I give you what you need - what you were made for?”

i whimper and start to cry. When You suddenly lick the tears off my face with a lewd, bold swath of Your tongue, i shudder and moan. 

“I’ve not paid enough attention to you, have I, sweetheart. Silly me. I thought you’d be a good boy and behave yourself. It’s my fault for forgetting what a good actor you are. I thought I’d broken you of all your dreams of independence and freedom. Well, I won’t make that mistake again.”

You lead me by the wrist to the couch and push me down until i’m seated. i feel numb and give no resistance. You sit next to me, your knee touching my leg. As you continue speaking to me, i stare off straight ahead trying to escape inside my mind, but it’s useless.

“Now where’s your phone, baby? Oh, I see it. You know I should punish you for not answering quickly and properly, but I think we’re beyond that now, don’t you, sweetheart?” 

Standing up, you fetch my phone and enter in the code i’d forgot to change when i reset all the other passwords to my bank accounts, which You made me give you. i realize suddenly that must have been what triggered Your visit. 

“Tsk, tsk. Not very thorough.” You smile patronizingly as the phone unlocks and you scroll through my phonebook. “So we’re going to text your boss right now and let him know you won’t be in this week.” i know i should try to run for it but i can’t move. And the truth is, i don’t really want to. “There. Short and sweet. And now, the boyfriend.” You smirk at something and then toss the phone aside. “That should do it.”

You sit back down, this time nearly on top of me, and grab me by the chin. “That should give you enough time to heal, baby boy. See how generous and thoughtful I am? Now, while you’re still conscious, I want you to apologize to my dick for wrapping those pretty lips around another cock. You always look so pretty when your throat is stuffed full of my dick and you can’t breath. Honestly, you don’t deserve my dick, considering what a naughty little slut you’ve been. But I know what you need, don’t I.”

i’m still sniffling when i crumble to my knees and crawl between Your thighs. i’m on autopilot and the only thing that snaps me out of me my daze is the warm, musty smell of Your hairy crotch as Your hands grip my head and You impale my throat on Your cock. i gag and retch. “Shhh! Don’t worry, baby. I’ll have you soaring in no time and then you’ll beg me to fuck you ... beg me to hurt you. And I will, sweetheart. Oh, I will.”

[thinking-mans-submissive]

“Do you ever get tired of people projecting their Daddy fantasies on you just because of the way you look?”

“No. Do you get tired of people assuming you’re a fag just because of the way you look, baby?” 

“No” 

“Feeling insecure, are we?”

“Always … Daddy.” 

“Why’s that, baby?”

“i’m about to say something really stupid, but i can’t help it. When i’m with You, i feel safe.” 

“Why’s that stupid? That makes me feel good. You should.”

“i feel like i ‘regress’ in ways that are a little embarrassing. i mean, i’m too old to be acting like this, right? i know i’m feminine compared to You. Well, compared to most guys - alright? Shut up. But with You, i want to be extra feminine. i mean, i don’t want to start wearing dresses or anything. i just … i like to feel helpless and delicate. Fragile. i want to cook and clean for You. i want to take care of You in domestic, servile ways. And i want to feel protected. But, i also want You to be in charge. i mean, You are, but i know i can be a handful and a brat. i like it when …”

“You need a spanking is what I’m hearing.”

“Whhha …?”

“Don’t deny it. I shouldn’t have to say this, but let’s get this out the way so you can relax and start focusing on me. First, I’m going to put you over my knee at our first opportunity and wear your hide out because you don’t ever tell me to shut up, even in jest. I want you to understand this is going to be punishment, so you’re not going to like it. But you need it. And I know you want it, baby.” 

“Second, of course I make you feel feminine! I’m fucking you. You’re taking my cock up your goddamn ass, you’re sucking it, you’re licking my hairy balls, and you’re being exactly what I want you to be: submissive, respectful - well, most of the time, and obedient. You want to take care of me? Good. I’d like that. Cook and clean to your hearts desire.” 

“As for your age, I don’t give a shit about that. And I am your Daddy. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t spank you because I wouldn’t care. You’re good for me. I love fucking you and I love protecting you. And you need protecting. From yourself. You know that, right?”

“…. yes …. yes, Daddy. Thank you. i … i love You.”

“I know you do, baby. That’s why I’m going to punish you until you cry - because I love you too. And I know what you need better than you do. Now, are we done with this?” 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy.” 

[thinking-mans-submissive]

i’m old enough to be His father, but i call Him Daddy, and He loves it. 

Submitting to a young Daddy took some getting used to - for me. But it wasn’t until He took a belt to me that things truly clicked inside my head. He wasn’t just doing all of this for me; He was doing it for us. And He was enjoying it as much as i was - possibly more. 

This was real.

The shame i felt when He yelled at me was real. The embarrassment of being told to drop my pants and lay across His lap was real. The fear of waiting for that first blow across my bare ass was real. The relentless pain i felt and the tears i cried as He held my neck down and violently marked my ass with red welts was real. Flying in the deepest sub space i’d ever experienced was real. His love and affection for me was real. The hardness of His cock was real. 

“i’m sorry, Daddy! i’ll be Your good boy. Please forgive me. i luv You, Daddy!”

[thinking-mans-submissive]

Nothing has ever felt more natural. 

It would be weird to describe something so instinctive as satisfying. Is it satisfying to breath? Still, I am surprised at how pleasurable it is to use him sexually and how instinctive it is to hurt him - to push just past that point in my mind that warns “stop”. I blame him; he fucking provokes and invites it. But he’s a grown man; it’s his funeral.

Any thoughts I’d had about it being awkward or contrived seem ridiculous in hindsight. He obeys my orders as easily as I give them, and it gets me so fucking hard. 

He looks so beautiful when he’s cowering beneath me, if such a thing can be said about an old faggot with a dad-bod. That’s been the biggest surprise - the effect he has on my cock and libido despite his mediocre looks. 

The fag kissing the backs of my feet is easily twice my age and “successful,” according to him - good job, comfortable life, nice house. If he was trying to impress me, it doesn’t. What impresses me is his willingness to throw it all away in service to me. What would his friends, family, and co-workers say if they could see him now - so eager for my abuse, so grateful for the marks I leave on his body?

A better question is what would my bros say if they saw me pounding an old faggot’s ass? I’m pretty sure after the initial shock that they’d want a go at him too. But what they’d do to him would come from hate and fear, and I won’t allow that. I don’t hate or fear my faggot; I understand him, and he understands me like no one else.

I’m very possessive and protective of what we have. Someday, I’ll get the fuck out of this shitty town and have a boyfriend. In the meantime, I’ve got the perfect cum-dump. Maybe I can work all this aggression out of my system now and be ready to have a real relationship with a cute twink when I’m settled in a new city with a new beginning. 

But I’ll miss the attentive way his tongue feels tracing the ridges of my body. It’s so pathetic and yet beautiful to see how worshipful he is - how needy he is for my praise, my cum, my fists. I may never fully understand why beating him make me so god damn hard. But right now it doesn’t matter. I’m young. He’s old. My life is ahead of me with unlimited potential. His will be over when I’m done with him. I’m everything to him and he’s just a stepping-stone in my life. It’s a perfectly natural symbiosis. 

[thinking-mans-submissive]

He is more than capable of carrying you - all of You. Your concerns, fears, and desires. Your past. Your present. He can carry everything you’ve got. You’re not a burden to Him; He wants to carry you and has invested time and effort to ensure your dependency upon Him. In the process of making you fully His, He’s engrained Himself so deeply in your thoughts and psyche that He is now your entire world and you struggle to think for yourself. You struggle to remember what life was like before Him. Noting or no one else matters other than Him - His pleasure, His favor, His needs and desires. 

He’s not just physically strong enough to carry you; He’s emotionally strongly enough as well. He knows who He is and He knows who you are and doesn’t give a fuck what others might say about. His strength and confidence gives you the safety and assurance to jump into His arms for all the world to see. You cling to Him, not because you’re afraid of falling but because you can’t get close enough to Him. In His strong arms you feel safe. Loved. Cherished. Owned. Protected. Known. Accepted.