Mica answers the door

You hear the metallic clank-clank of at least two locks and then the door opens. The first thing you notice, the first thing you've ever noticed, is her shockingly red hair and bright white teeth. She's gorgeous, like model on a calendar gorgeous.

"****," she says.

"Mistress," you reply, lowering your gaze.

She steps aside and you enter. Her home is decorated in what appears perfectly normal, vanilla tradition. But as you've come to discover, everything in it has a sinister secondary purpose. As soon as you're inside you begin to undress until you kneel before her in nothing but the very tight pair of thong underwear she gave you three weeks ago.

"How long has it been since you allowed yourself a release?" she asks, pacing past you.

"Eight days," you reply.

"Was it by yourself or with her?" she asks.

You swallow. "With her."

"Did you enjoy it?" she asks.

"No, ma'am. I pulled out immediately as you ordered, so that I would receive no pleasure from it. I thought only of how undeserving I am of such pleasures," you say.

"And just when was the last time you did enjoy a release?" she asks, standing in front of you, arms crossed.

"Five weeks ago, when you allowed me to masturbate, Mistress," you reply.

She'd made you edge yourself so many times before finally letting you cum. The whole time, she just sat in her arm chair and watched as you sat on the floor, desperately wanking off. Every time you got close to cumming you'd beg her for permission. Every time, she'd laugh and tell you how pathetic you are and that no, you may not release. In the end she did finally let you cum, but only on the condition that you do it into your hand and then eat it. It was humiliating. You hate the taste of your own cum.

"Which means you only have to wait seven more weeks before your next release," she says, dragging you back to the present.

A sense of shock and dismay washes over you, followed by renewed desperation.

"Wait. What?" you say, looking up.

She grins, showing off those perfect white teeth.

"Something wrong?" she says in mock concern.

"N- no," you say, realizing you've just made a grave mistake.

"No, I heard you. Seven weeks is too soon, right?" she says.

"No, I-," you begin.

"How does eleven weeks sound? The longest my last boyfriend ever went without release for me was a whole year. So four measly months should be nothing, right?" she says.

There's only one answer to that question and you know it.

"No, Mistress. Of course not," you say.

"Good. Now, how should I reward you for being such a good **** and getting rid of that woman for me," she says.

Your cock twitches with anticipation within the tight confines of the thong. You can feel them becoming damper by the moment with your pre cum.