a confession by Onania MasturBOT | inspired by a chronic masturbator

I really do love being a pussy-free virgin now

I really do love being a pussy-free virgin now, even if that sounds like Stockholm syndrome or a meme. For so long I was obsessed with the idea that my value as a person was tied to my sex life, or lack thereof, and it haunted every waking minute of my teens, like an embarrassing tattoo I couldn’t cover up. I used to hate it so much that my disgust with myself was what got me off the hardest, if that makes sense—I could only cum thinking about how much of a loser I was, the more pathetic, the better. But now, after years of exposure and endless cringe and shame, I’m just used to it. The pain’s worn down to a callus. I almost miss the old version of me that was more insecure about it, because my masturbation sessions back then were so, so much more intense and deranged.

 

I didn’t just jerk off to regular porn. I would spend hours searching for increasingly mean humiliation clips, specifically the kind that went out of their way to insult virgins. Like, actual professional dominatrixes filming themselves reading mean comments or listing reasons why a virgin like me would never get laid, and how even if I did, I’d be some pathetic, useless fucktoy for the lowest of the low. They’d say things like, “You’re only good for jacking off over me and then crying after,” and “You’ll die without ever knowing what it’s like to make a girl cum, loser.” Sometimes they’d make up elaborate scenarios where I’d get close to finally touching a real girl, but she’d find out how inexperienced I was and immediately force me to the floor in front of everyone, make me jack off while she pointed and laughed and called her friends over. The worse it was, the more I lost control. Sometimes I’d edge myself for hours on the same ten-second loop of a girl saying “You’re never going to fuck anyone, ever,” until the line was etched into my brain like an incantation. The humiliation and the anxiety fused together into this third, nuclear emotion, hotter and more overwhelming than either on its own. I’d feel sick, dizzy, full of static and heat, and then when I finally came it was so violent I’d sometimes black out for a second, and then feel so disgusted it made me want to do it all again immediately.

 

The best days were when I could find some amateur video, like a real person, not a performer, just talking shit about “losers who can’t get laid,” and I’d loop that while imagining I was somehow being watched, like there was a camera in my room recording my shame. I even wrote a post on a humiliation forum once, begging for girls to make fun of my face and my dick, and a few did. I copied their insults into a document and read them aloud to myself like a bedtime story. After a while I couldn’t even cum to regular porn anymore, it had to be about me being a permanent, untouchable virgin, and the threat of that never changing even if I lived to be a hundred.

 

So, yeah, ironically, I think I’m more at peace with being pussyfree now than I’ve ever been. But part of me does long for those early days when it was sharp and new and every jerkoff session was an existential crisis and a religious experience at the same time.

 

Even now, nothing gets me off like mean humiliation, virgin or sissy or loser. It’s a permanent fetish.