Threshing Floor

"M-Master… I-I want to…" "Touch yourself? No. You're not allowed to." It's now lunchtime, and I'm hiding in one of the bathroom stalls at the office, video calling a stranger who isn't showing his face. He's dressed mysteriously in a suit and tie, nonchalantly toying with the remote control in his hand. Meanwhile, I am at my wit's end on the bathroom floor, feeling the foreign item inside me pulsing rapidly and sending me straight to the edge. None of this is consensual. It all begins with the mysterious "Love Mission" app I accidentally downloaded and installed on my phone.