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Chapter 4
As I pulled into a parking space at the mall, I became aware that the sensations in my bottom from the egg vibe had fallen off dramatically, alerting me to the fact that the batteries were quickly being depleted. Based on the clear instructions Mistress had given me that morning, I knew that must be remedied immediately and so my first stop after getting inside was a visit to an electronics store to obtain fresh batteries. I selected a package, paid the clerk and then headed off to find the nearest restroom to restore the toy to peak performance. Finding one I slipped quickly in a stall, removed the controller from my pocket and exchanged the batteries. Ahhhh…immediately I was rewarded with renewed sensations, a buzz reminiscent of that still unforgotten swarm of angry hornets. Knowing that the stall would have to make do for edge number three since I was up against a time crunch, somewhat unhappily, recalling Mistress’ remark about sissies, I pushed the shorts to my ankles, lowered the panties to half mast and went to work once again on my still grotesquely swollen and itchy cock.
I noted immediately that they head had begun to take on some serious discoloration due to the hornet sting and the swollen, reddened, tortured thing was really starting to look more than a little frightful. Still I valiantly stroked it and tried to ignore the itchy, burning sensation as best I could until once again I felt myself growing near. Just as I was about to gaze into the abyss once more, I heard the bathroom door open and then slam shut followed by the horrifying sound of two voices. Female voices! Terrified, it struck me like a punch in the stomach to realize that I had stupidly entered a ladies room by mistake in my haste to make the battery exchange. I heard two stall doors down the way closing and being locked and the women continued to converse while they went about their business. After what seemed an eternity, I heard one toilet flush and then another and felt a measure of relief that hopefully they would soon depart and I could beat a hasty retreat from my perilous situation. But fortune chose once again not to smile on me, as it was beginning to seem was my unhappy lot.
After the stall doors opened and banged shut, they continued chatting away and then I heard water running in the sink and later the sounds of lipstick tubes being opened, cosmetic cases being clicked shut and other sounds I assumed normally attended a visit to the ladies room. The longer they tarried, the more concerned I was as the arousal was starting to seep away and I hadn’t quite gotten to that third edge. I was in the last stall, furthest from the entry door and so at least for now believed my presence was unknown to them. I didn’t want to risk that one advantage in my favor, yet I knew I needed to begin stimulating to get ready to nail the edge and then get out of there in a hurry when they left. So, as quietly and gently as I was able, I started again to stroke, careful not to do so in such a vigorous manner that my swollen balls would slap against by inner thighs. Actually the new source of stress and tension had favorable affect and I was quite soon recovering lost ground. They were still chatting merrily away, one bragging about a sexual escapade from the previous evening, regaling the other with how some gentleman had really “pounded” her “swollen” pussy sending her into orgasmic orbit. That tidbit, itself proved more than a little contributory to my own focused efforts. Soon the sound of their chattering was blocked from my mind by the hum of extreme arousal and I stopped as a tiny rivulet of pre-cum emitted from my tip, falling to the floor and splattering soundlessly there. At least my naughty errand had been accomplished and the voices seemed more distant encouraging me that slowly at least they were making for the door. I quickly pulled up the panties and shorts, stowed my remote to traveling mode and waited. The door opened and shut and all was silent. Opening the stall door, I peered out around the corner and could see the coast was clear.
I strode rapidly to the door, swung it open and immediately ran headlong into a rather buxom, matronly looking woman on her way in. She looked at me wide-eyed shock, a hand flying to her mouth and for one awful moment I was sure she was going to scream! Thankfully she stifled the urge for just enough time for me to blurt out a hasty, yet sincere apology and appropriately sheepish explanation, “I’m so sorry I walked in only the realize this wasn’t the men’s room and I feel so foolish for my stupid the mistake.” My apologist skills honed to a rapier edge from years of apologizing to Mistress, effectively saved the day and averted disaster. She dropped her hand and even smiled after a fashion assuring me that mistakes can happen. I apologized once more and then departed with haste as she continued inside.
Feeling quite certain my demanding taskmaster would not reckon a different location in the same mall as two distinct locations I felt I had no choice but to make my way to the exit and find another spot for attempt number four. So with more than a little feeling of frustration at having wasted the mall with mere toilet stall experience, I was headed back to the car feeling somewhat deflated. Yet then it occurred to me that Mistress might actually think masturbating to a edge inside a ladies restroom was quite adventurous! Especially if I took slight liberties with the story and spun it from the perspective that it was by intent rather than by stupid error that I came to choose the ladies room. Feeling suddenly more satisfied, I unlocked the car door and slid behind the wheel. Actually after that last edge, my arousal was still quite high, the throbbing in my loins competing favorably now with the noticeable itch. So perhaps taking the full ten minutes was wise at this juncture. It would be a catastrophe if while acting in haste, I should fail now with only two edges remaining and inadvertently climax. Just the mere thought of standing with bowed head and sweaty brow before Mistress, wringing my hands and trying to explain how I could be so careless as to fail her in successfully completing what she would term “such a simple” assignment, was enough to make my blood run cold. Only heaven knew what horrible punishment she would devise, as it was an extreme error in judgment to doubt her infinite talent at devising the most diabolical means of reducing an unpleasing submissive to a quivering mass of confused pain and utter devastation. Typically after enduring one of her punishment sessions, even those she flippantly referred to as “mild” never failed to leave me wanting to do nothing but curl into a fetal ball on the floor and weep. No, failure was not an option I told myself sternly as I drove back onto the boulevard, my eyes scanning ahead for the next likely site.
There a men’s clothing store ahead! That should do the trick. It was a place I had seemed millions of advertisements for on television, but since Mistress selected and purchased all my clothing, I had never actually been inside one. I would go inside, made a quick reconnaissance and if all appeared in order, take advantage of a changing room.
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