As the day went on, Mistress Mystique found herself growing increasingly uncomfortable. She'd been holding her urine for far too long, and the cramps in her lower abdomen were becoming almost unbearable. She'd always been able to control her bladder better than this, but something about the situation seemed to be affecting her.
Maybe it was the anticipation of what was to come—or perhaps it was the fear of disappointing her master. Whatever it was, Mistress Mystique knew that she couldn't last much longer. She decided to take matters into her own hands—literally.
In the bathroom stall at work, she began to touch herself. It wasn't the most satisfying way to relieve her growing desperation, but it was all she had at the moment. As she rubbed her clitoris through her clothes, she closed her eyes and focused on the sensation. Slowly but surely, she felt herself beginning to release the tension in her bladder.
After several minutes of this frantic self-gratification, she finally felt herself letting go. The relief was immense, and she let out a shuddering sigh of bliss. As the last drops of urine trickled out of her, she opened her eyes and looked down.
Her shorts were soaked—truly soaked—and she knew that they were going to have to come off. She took a deep breath and stood up, pushing her soaked panties to the side. With trembling hands, she unfastened her bra and set it on the filthy bathroom sink.
Steeling herself, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it drop to the floor. She turned slowly to face the mirror, her heart racing as she took in her reflection. Her nipples were hard and erect, her breasts heaving with each ragged breath.
It was then that she noticed the crinkled shorts still clinging to her hips. With determined fingers, she reached down and grabbed the stretchy fabric, pulling them down slowly over her thighs. As she stepped out of them, she looked down at the revealing black thong she wore beneath them, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
She stood there for a moment, naked from the waist down, before finally gathering up her soaking-wet clothes and hurrying out of the stall. She couldn't wait to get home and show her master what she'd done—and, more importantly, what she still had left to give.
