Good Girl Susan!

"But you will not masturbate to a full orgasm, will you Susan?"

"No Mistress." I gulped and wondered if I could keep that promise - I had planned to finish the job as soon as possible.

"Good girl Susan." Again a rush of dopamine as she called me a good girl - how simple it is to control me I thought - just a word or two from a disembodied voice on the end of a phone and I felt I would do anything for this woman - anything!

"And you will not cum until I tell you to. Do I make myself clear Susan?" This was much firmer, but still gentle and caring even - how does she do that? She didn't say she would give me permission - she said "until I tell you to", and with those words I felt all sense of control over my own orgasms drain away from me, as surely as if she had pulled a stopper from a barrel.

"Yes Mistress." And as I was trying to form a question from all the thoughts that were now crowding my mind, I heard the beep signalling that the call had ended.

Hang on I thought - how will she tell me that I can cum? Will she call again? Will she post something on Fetlife? How long will that be? And will she make me ruin it again?

I had no answers to this, just a deep and powerful sense of loving devotion to that voice, the strongest desire I have ever felt to orgasm, and a pair of panties soaked in my own cum.

I touched myself again with one finger - the same finger with which I had just ruined my orgasm - running it around the head, down the shaft, and pulled the panties back over my still rigid cock. They felt cold from the wet spunk and I realised that it had dribbled into my bum crack as well.

Slowly I rose from the toilet seat and pulled up my trousers, trying not to get any cum on the front or on the zipper. I flushed the toilet and unlocked the cubicle so that I could wash my hands. And too late I remembered that I was in the women's toilet. Right in front of me at the sink - looking directly at me in the mirror - was a middle-aged woman with a look of horror and disgust on her face. I stood there in the doorway of the cubicle not sure what to do, but feeling deeply humiliated. I looked down to check my crotch, and though I couldn't see any spunk I could see (and feel) the outline of my stiff cock clearly visible through my trousers. She saw my glance downward and followed with her own, and suddenly burst into peels of laughter - almost a witch's cackle - and I ran out of the toilet and straight into a mannequin wearing an electric blue matching set. I grabbed it to stop it falling over and then not really knowing what I was doing started to re-adjust the mannequin's lingerie, before sheepishly walking away and down the escalator and out of the store - my face red but my cock even redder.