Give her some time to reflect

"You know, I think you need some time to reflect on this. Let me just," he says, trailing off as he concentrates on something.

As he says "there!" I feel the urge to stretch my legs and rub them together on the couch as I feel myself becoming turned on again. Nowhere near as much as before, but more than mildly. This is much more like the kind of excitement I'd get on one of _those _days, the kind where I look forward all day to my date or going home to my bed.

"Mm," is all that leaks out of my sealed mouth.

"And set this to 'off', perfect!"

I wonder what he did. I definitely feel good. I wonder what his plan is.

"I'll call you. Don't call me." He hangs up. I feel my mouth yield control back to me.

My only move is to shower and try to get some rest, leaving tomorrow to research my options for getting free of him.

I last about 5 minutes into my shower before I lose myself to the feeling of hot water rolling down my body. I start by teasing my breasts and gradually my body took over. It's hardly the first time I've enjoyed myself in the shower, so I leave my hands to autopilot.

I close my eyes and picture a mystery man climbing into the shower and holding me from behind. As I imagine his hands teasing me, I do the same with mine.

It feels so good, but I'm having a hard time finishing, so I find myself moving from light teasing to increasingly aggressive finger fucking. This imaginary man usually knew what to do with me but, today, he was lacking. I keep at it until the water starts to get cold, forcing me out of my imagination and back into my shower. I have to wrap my arms behind my head and use all my focus and willpower to stop, and wait for my arousal to subside. It does, slowly, and excruciatingly, back to where I started, after the call.

'I suppose that's Joss's gift,' I say to the steam in my bathroom. I focus on finishing up in the bathroom, excited to try again with my favourite dildo once I'm in my bed.

An hour later, I'm panting, red-faced, and exhausted. My legs are tangled up in my partially undressed pyjamas and the bedding is all over the floor. I feel so close, but nothing I've been able to do has let me through the climax I've been getting infinitesimally closer to. It's time to accept that this is Joss's doing and there's nothing I can do about it, my conscious mind tries to persuade my body. Eventually, I manage to stop myself by throwing the toy away from my reach and letting my body grind into nothing but the air until I gradually came down.

Waiting for me, though, was my new baseline of arousal. Even having lived through it twice, knowing that I'm being blocked from climaxing, the toy was keeping me horny; keeping my body begging me to let it try again.

I try to sleep, but it's impossible. I try to occupy myself by focusing on Tiktok videos on my phone until, eventually, I pass out from exhaustion.

The next morning I wake to find one of my pillows between my legs, soaked and ruined, and my hips slowly rubbing myself onto the pillow. I need another shower, which I manage by keeping the water cold enough to be uncomfortable and I decide how I'm going to deal with work today. I don't think a leave request for "my vagina has been overridden and I'm forcibly overcome with mild lust" will be approved by HR.

I want to call Joss but I remember what he said, and I can't afford to agitate him until I've found a way to disconnect myself from him.

As my chip pings me to tell me it's time to take the bus to work, I quickly get dressed. Normally I'd wear casual pants to work, but considering how my body is reacting to my enforced arousal, I decide it would be wise to wear a skirt and pack some extra underwear. At this rate, I'd need 4 to get through the day, I think.

The bus ride was tough, too. I spent the whole ride sitting on my hands, bolt upright, trying to concentrate on work; trying to keep my mind off the teasing from the bumps from the road.

Being productive at work is my latest challenge. I stare at my work in front of me, at my desk, in nothing but a daze of arousal. I’ve been asked to write a report, a complicated one, but half of my cognitive capacity is devoted to thinking up scenarios and schemes to get myself off, and half is devoted to fighting the urge to do any of those things.

I hope my colleagues don’t look too closely at me today, with my knees crushed together and my bolt upright posture. If I let myself relax for a moment, I can’t help my subconscious take control and start grinding gently into my chair.

I’ve dabbled with some domination and submission in the bedroom before, but I’m not comfortable with this level of control over me. The relentless, unsatisfied need from underneath me is overwhelming and scary.

At 3.30pm, he finally calls.