“Oh, ma’am…” she breathes.
She doesn’t touch herself. She is very obedient. Instead she grips the seat and concentrates on stopping herself from coming. She whimpers and screws her eyes up with the effort. With her eyes closed, she sees Miriam, dominant, standing over her and grinning evilly, forcing the pleasure into her like magic. Ellie shudders, and then shrieks as the egg jumps up to nine. Right at that moment, she hears someone else enter the bathroom. Ellie bites her tongue, desperately, trying to keep quiet.
The other woman washes her hands. It seems to take an eternity.
The egg is going crazy. Ellie breathes hard through her nose, and for a split second completely loses control, and spasms, and shrieks again with pleasure. “Aih!” She covers her mouth, hopelessly. Of course that was audible.
The other woman turns the faucet off. She says, “Really? My God, honey, it’s the middle of the morning.”
Ellie breathes a sigh of relief — she doesn’t recognise the voice. It’s someone she doesn’t know. She can’t help but squirm, and squeal a little more, softly. The egg goes to ten. Miriam is trying to force her to come, now. Tears are running from Ellie’s eyes. She fights it. She holds her ground. It’s taxing and exhilarating and hugely embarrassing. She hopes like hell that the other woman doesn’t recognise her voice in turn.
“Some people obviously don’t have enough work to do.” The other woman sounds irritated… but there is definitely a flicker of envy there too. She dries her hands and leaves.
A minute of agony later, the egg slows down too, and Ellie is able to get herself back under control. She is dripping wet, and desperately randy, and her pussy aches from clenching.
“This is hard,” Ellie whimpers to herself, wiping her eyes.
She does, in fact, have a huge amount of work which she’s supposed to be doing.
The egg spins up three more times during the day. At lunch it doesn’t go above five, and Ellie is able to eat with her friends without them noticing anything weird. She is a little red-faced, and doesn’t say a lot, and has to cough hurriedly a few times to cover for herself, but no one says anything.
Right after lunch it jumps up to eight. And then nine. Ellie ducks into a supply cupboard just as it goes to ten, and leans against the wall, bent double, breathing deeply, tears running down her face as she struggles to control her body. “Oh, ma’am, please! Please, ma’am!” Nobody can hear her. But the egg calms down. Then it pulses back up to ten for a hot second, and then drops to a low rumble.
As she leaves the supply cupboard, juice running down the inside of her leg, she sees Miriam, down at the far end of the corridor, walking away. Did she do it on purpose? Was she behind her, and pranked her? Ellie feels another twinge of pleasure, but it’s not from the egg.
*
Miriam arrives at Ellie’s fifteen minutes from the end. She enters the meeting room quietly and takes a seat at the back, near the door. There are fifty or sixty people in the room, watching Ellie explain the results she and her lab partners gathered from a month-long panel of biochemistry experiments.
Ellie does well. In fact, she is in her element. She is articulate and enthusiastic, and the people watching seem to be engaged in what she’s sharing. It helps that her experiments worked out well.
But she blushes quite a bit. She bites her lip nervously when someone is asking a question. To stop her hands from shaking, she grips the lectern firmly. She seems breathless.
Miriam watches with quiet pride. She doesn’t ask questions. She has some understanding of the broader topics of biochemistry, but unlike most of the people watching she is not an expert in the field. She employs them to be the experts.
Ellie fields one final question, then it’s the top of the hour, the end of the day in fact, and she calls it. While everybody else stands up to leave, Ellie folds up her laptop and dashes through the crowd to the back, where Miriam is waiting, smiling.
“Ms. Wright, can I see you? Right now.”
“Of course.”
Ellie leads her briskly out of the room and around the corner to another, much smaller meeting room. This one has a very small table and only two chairs in it — it’s intended for phone meetings. Ellie holds the door for her domme.
“I really enjoyed your talk,” Miriam remarks. “You presented yourself very professionally. I think everybody noticed that you were very nervous, but–”
Ellie slams the meeting room door shut behind them, and kisses Miriam on the lips, firmly, passionately, desperately.
Miriam kisses her back, thrilled by the attention. For half a minute there is silence. Ellie’s hands move through Miriam’s hair, pulling pins out of it, making it unwind in luxurious dark waves down her back. She caresses Miriam’s throat and chin, and then slides a hand inside of her tightly buttoned suit jacket, squeezing her expansive bust.