Still Walking Strong

 

 

 

 This story contains Female Desperation, Humiliation, Female Wetting, Female Peeing, and Golden Showers. When I got home, no one was around, so I quietly went to my room, changed clothes and went straight to bed. There was so much to dream about: wet panties, soaked pussies, and overwhelming ladies! Two weeks passed and nothing had happened. The weather was rather rainy and I had chosen to ride my bike or hitch a ride whenever some neighbor’s kid had the same hours as I did. But summer came back and so did my desire to pick up my clothes. Doubtless, Mom would ask for them now that the weather allowed wearing them again. And maybe there was something else that attracted me to that house with a birch tree in front of it? Finally, an opportunity arose ‘ my parents would not be home till late, school was out early and the weather was brilliant. No neighbors around to offer me a ride, either ‘ perfect. So I wandered off, shouldering my backpack and looking forward to what was waiting for me. I got quite anxious when I turned into said street and my nervousness increased with every step. Would Ms. Birch be at home? Would she just pass me my clothes through the door and send me away? Would I be invited in? What about Ms. Kryokova? I was looking forward to seeing them again and at the same time I feared my dreams would be shattered, that I wouldn’t be lucky for a third time’ But what had happened after I had left the house last time? Ms. Kryokova had looked for Ms. Birch and finally found her coming out of the family bathroom. “What happened? Why did you leave so suddenly?” she wanted to know. Ms. Birch blushed and turned her head slightly: “I don’t know. It just felt so wrong what I was doing. And still, this tingling in my lower body, I felt I would do something stupid if I didn’t run away.” “Ah, come on! There was nothing wrong with showing that brat how to behave! I mean, back in those days, he would have gotten a thorough beating for what he did ‘ and you just made him feel the same as he had done to me.” The experience downstairs having built a strong connection between them Ms. Birch felt she could confide in her neighbor in all aspects of this event. Somehow the expression in Ms. Kryokova’s face told her she would find full understanding and sympathy. “That’s true, but ‘ believe me or not ‘ I was totally turned on by what I did, I couldn’t help it.” She admitted, blushing. “What’s wrong with that? I admit that I enjoyed it a lot when he cleaned my pussy with his tongue. He was so shy and careful; it took him ages ‘ all the time stimulating my labia. Yet I don’t regret a thing!” “I had to run away!” Ms. Birch insisted. “Imagine: I squatted over his lap, my pubic hair just touching his penis. My pee was jetting directly at his shaft, splashing all over his body’” She paused. “Does it feel right to be aroused by that?” she inquired, “And yet, as I finished, I felt the urge to simply sit down and rub myself against his private parts. Mind you: Such a young boy and covered with my piss! That’s just not supposed to feel good, is it? I felt so perverted!” Ms. Kryokova let pass some time before she replied: “Now, don’t be ashamed because of that little brat! I mean, he deserved it, didn’t he? After all he started the mess! If it turns you on, so what? No harm done, is it? We were punishing that teenager for his rude behavior; there is no doubt that he deserved it. Whether you feel pain and regret or joy and arousal does not matter at the end of the day.” “If you put it like that’ Maybe you’re right? ‘ Did you really enjoy him licking the pee off your pussy?” “I know it sounds twisted ‘ I even experienced an orgasm!” Ms. Kryokova admitted, somewhat cheeky. “And I am not going to regret that.” At this, her neighbor stared at her flabbergasted. After a while, she stammered: “When I arrived upstairs, I still couldn’t get my mind off what just happened. I hoped I would have a clearer head if I ran away from the scene, but instead the excitement grew and I was trembling with desire ‘ as soon as I got to the bedroom, I lay down and touched myself’ I think I came within seconds!” Ms. Birch finally admitted. “As you were gone, I had him clean himself and the laundry room.” Ms. Kryokova said into the silence that followed. “He is such an obedient boy!” her friend praised. “Oh, don’t be na’ve! Probably he simply didn’t see another way out ‘ I had locked the door and was watching him very closely.” Ms Kryokova wanted to make sure her friend did not regret anything. She had more plans for the future and these required making her friend feel free of sympathy for the boy. No, he had to remain the misbehaved brat he had been to her this afternoon! “Maybe you’re right: I don’t understand how he can be so naughty at times. And the next moment he is as nice a shy little boy as you can imagine.” Ms. Birch wondered. “As I said: don’t let yourself be kidded! Did you watch his face? It didn’t exactly look as if he was taking our lesson seriously. I wish, I could really teach him a lesson to remember!” Ms. Kryokova claimed. This conversation immediately followed my departure. Families Birch and Kryokova had always been on friendly neighborly terms and shared quite a few barbeques. But now, Ms. Birch and Ms. Kryokova became close friends. They met almost daily when their husbands and kids were at work and school, mostly discussing their common experience in the laundry cellar. For some unquestioned reason they always ended up meeting at the Birches house. Slowly, Ms. Birch began to accept her newly found feelings. She opened up to the fact that she had enjoyed the situation of superiority and power, the punishment of that little naughty teenage boy who had first thrown garbage in her front yard and then made her humiliate herself, peeing her panties in front of him. Thanks to Ms. Kryokova ‘ who had always been very open to her own desires and sexual feelings ‘ she started to feel she had done nothing wrong and that it was her right to punish me for what I had done to her. No, she did not have to feel ashamed! Who did it concern what she felt when she punished me? Certainly, it was no one’s business! Ms. Kryokova seemed to enjoy discussing the subject. Pretty much every time they met, she managed to bring up the subject and pointed out what a spoiled, disrespectful and ill–mannered brat I must be. She loved to discuss the punishments they had used to discipline me and how these had apparently failed to impress me appropriately. “He has not even picked up his clothes yet, has he?” she asked her neighbor. “No, I haven’t seen him since.” Ms. Birch confirmed. “Shows little respect for you and for his mother, don’t you think?” Ms. Kryokova remarked. “Why?” “Well, you have been washing his clothes ‘clothes soiled in your house without any respect. Do you think his mother is happy if he discards the clothes she paid for just to avoid the humiliation and punishment waiting for him when he picks them up?” she made her point. Even now, Ms. Birch did not know that Ms. Kryokova had purposefully peed on my lap, that I in fact was innocent in that respect; that I had never actually pissed my pants in her house. “What humiliation and punishment?” Ms. Birch asked, astonished. “Don’t you think he will be embarrassed to ask for the clothes he wet in front of you? And don’t you think that he deserves some extra punishment when he comes? He never said sorry for dumping his litter in your yard, even less for his outright outrageous behavior when he peed his pants just to see me off his lap!” Ms. Kryokova was proud that she had sent me off in my sports gear, keeping my other clothes when I left. She intended to force me coming back ‘ she was not done with her games yet! “Hm, I understand what you are saying’ But don’t you expect him to say sorry when he comes to pick up his clothes?” Ms. Birch asked. The tingle in her belly told her that she wished I wouldn’t. “That naughty brat? Who peed on your friend just for his revenge?” her neighbor laughed at her. “Besides, he is silent as hardly another teenager. Did he ever say a word without being forced to speak? ‘ No, he won’t admit to his wrong doings.” To drive home her point, she added: “A well–behaved person would bring a bouquet of flowers to confirm their words and as a thank you for washing their dirty clothes. Do you really think that is going to happen?” Ms. Birch felt relief. A bouquet of flowers? No, that was definitely not going to happen! They would definitely have a reason to punish the boy again’ She didn’t realize what a twisted train of thought this was. But she felt she longed to dominate, to punish the boy again, as she felt her bladder tingle, filling with freshly processed urine. Still, she couldn’t get herself to refer to him as a brat. No, there was a subtle divergence of the picture Ms. Kryokova drew of him and the boy she remembered. She loved to accept Ms. Kryokova’s descriptions as they gave them the right to exert power over the boy and to punish him. Something, she felt, she was looking forward to. Something she would enjoy, even if it was still hard for her to admit. Ms. Kryokova’s descriptions erased the pangs of conscience she felt about this. But she couldn’t really believe that this was the only way to look at “that little boy’s” behavior. Maybe he was just shy? Maybe he did not dare to object? Maybe he had wet himself out of fear as her friend straddled him? But no, the latter seemed rather farfetched ‘ of what would he have been afraid, afraid enough to pee his pants? Silence settled in the room as Ms. Birch gave audience to her thoughts, wandering away in fantasies. Sitting at the tea table, both ladies looked at the window and silently wished for that little boy and naughty brat to appear in their street. Would he ever come to ask for his clothes? “How I wish to pee on his lap!” Ms. Kryokova burst out suddenly. “Give it all back to him what he did to me!” she added, careful not to raise her friend’s suspicions. “Oh, I could do that immediately!” Ms. Birch replied without thinking. “My bladder is full to burst: We have been chatting for hours, and I haven’t been to the toilet since you came over.” She wasn’t aware of the meaning of what she said. She felt she would do it, she knew in her heart that it would feel good. But would there be any reason to do it? Could she expect the boy to accept something like that happening? “I wish he would pass by soon!” Ms. Kryokova dreamt on. “I would love to see you sit on his lap, lifting your dress a little bit and wetting his clothes. How I would feel avenged by his humiliation!” “I want to see the look in his face!” Ms. Birch admitted, feeling her crotch get warm and moist. “Just imagine when he suddenly feels the warmth spreading over his lap, pee soaking his trousers. What a shock!” “And picture yourself getting up whilst peeing, making sure to wet his t–shirt, too!” Ms. Kryokova continued. “Saying ‘How does it feel getting peed all over your clothes?’ or so. He would be completely embarrassed!” “What a retribution for what he did to you a fortnight ago!” Ms. Birch went on. “But you would have to wet your panties in the process.” Ms. Kryokova stated, feeling her vagina pulsing at the simple thought. “Hm, I imagine there would be little time to take them off once he came’” her neighbor considered the statement. “I just wonder if he would follow us down into the basement again and then let me sit on his lap?” Ms. Birch felt her conscience twinge as she realized how absurd a situation it would be. “Certainly he would!” Ms. Kryokova asserted. “He wants to pick up his clothes and if he doesn’t need to say sorry the least he can do is go pick them up in the laundry cellar. I wish’” ‘ a sudden inspiration flashed through her mind, leaving her craving for gratification ‘ “Yes, could I ‘ oh I wanted to pee on his backpack.” She uttered. “That would be a lesson for him ‘ having his schoolbooks wet with pee!” Vivid pictures emerged from her subconsciousness. “How I would love to open the backpack and then even pee into it. He would remember that lesson, oh how he would!” she exclaimed. Again silence fell as the two women gave audience to their thoughts. “I can’t hold on very long anymore!” Ms. Birch broke the silence. “I think I will have a short toilet break.” “I feel like peeing, too. Your birch tree leave infusion seems to speed up my renal function ‘ I have only been to the toilet little more than an hour ago.” Ms. Kryokova admitted. “But I won’t go until I can’t hold on anymore. I would be sorry if that brat knocked at the door just after we went to the bathroom!” She hoped her neighbor would stay, too. She liked to see her in desperation and she felt her vagina get wet as she fantasized about Ms. Birch peeing into her panties ‘ on that naughty brat’s lap. This train of thought would only be half as thrilling if Ms. Birch’s bladder were empty. “I can’t stand this anticipation anymore! It makes my body twist with desire; my full bladder doesn’t make it any better!” Ms. Birch described her feelings. “Doesn’t it feel wonderful, sitting here with a full bladder, imagining how that little brat is subjected to our punishment?” Ms. Kryokova answered. “After peeing on his backpack I would make him lick my pussy dry, every little drop of pee he would have to suck away. I’m sure I would come again: It felt so wonderful last time!” “But you can’t pee on his backpack!” Ms Birch replied as if their fantasies were real plans. “Imagine the scandal of him coming home with wet books smelling of pee!” “I can’t help it; it makes me incredibly hot to imagine him cleaning his books, wiping page by page with his clean t–shirt to remove my pee and save his works.” Ms. Kryokova described her fantasy. “And since he is such a brat, his Mom would probably blame him for peeing his books on purpose. If I could only see his face as he has to tell his parents ‘ what humiliation!” Ms. Birch got up and started to clear the table. She was barely able to contain her desperate need to pee. She could sit no longer. She would have to go to the toilet when she had finished placing their dishes in the dishwasher ‘ or she would piss her panties. She almost lost control when Ms. Kryokova suddenly jumped up and ran past her. “Don’t scare me like this!” Ms. Birch shouted as she felt her bladder release a spurt into her panties, only just stopping the flood. “I almost peed my pants!” Ms. Kryokova didn’t reply; she stood at the window, staring outside: She had seen someone slowly walking up the street, looking at the house, hesitating in front of the garden gate. Yes, it was the long awaited little brat! I was standing in front of the house with the birch tree ‘ and I was too shy to approach it. I felt embarrassed. Could I just walk up to the door and ask for my clothes? Would they even remember? What if someone else opened the door? What would they think? What should I tell them if they asked me what I wanted? What excuse was there for my clothes to be at their house? Should I say that I had peed myself on the street and Lady Birch had invited me in to change and wash my clothes? It was too humiliating! I looked at the house, at the kitchen window. There it had happened, three weeks ago: I had seen how Lady Birch had wet her panties in front of me. For the first time in my life, I had seen a naked woman’s vulva close up. I trembled with excitement. Then I saw something move behind the window: Ms. Kryokova was watching me. I blushed. She had peed on my clothes, she had made me lick her pussy ‘ she didn’t know how much I had dreamt about it during the last two weeks. Yet I felt humiliated: she had seen me naked, she had seen how Lady Birch peed on me, how I had sat in Lady Birches pee, unable to move. She had made me clean up the mess afterwards. I didn’t dare looking at the window, at the house. I turned my gaze away, looked at the ground, my face burning hot from the blood shooting to my head. However much I had liked it, I would never forget the humiliation that went with it. I stood there ‘ I don’t know how long. Then I took a heart: It was too late. She had seen me. I took a step towards the door. She would think I were a total coward if I would not even dare to pick up my clothes. I got angry: It was all her fault, after all. Had she given me my clothes right away, I need not live through the humiliation of walking to the door and asking for my clothes. Finally, I took a heart and walked all the way up to the door. After another pause I finally rang the bell. It seemed like ages until the door opened. I thought all neighbors must be looking at me, it was so embarrassing. They didn’t know, but I felt like they could look inside me and see everything that had happened. The door opened. Ms. Kryokova stood there, scowling at me. I didn’t utter a word and stood in silence, staring at the floor immediately in front of me, blushing more and more. “So!” was all she said after what seemed like eternity. I could have sunk in the ground. “Nothing to say, huh?” she asked. I still didn’t reply, but shyly took a step forward. “Can’t get in quick enough, that ill–mannered little brat, eh? Not a word of sorrow? No excuses? We should have expected at least a little sign of repentance, huh?” she said sternly. I flinched. I had not expected to be scolded like that. Hopefully they would give me my clothes at all! ‘ I felt like running away’ Ms Kryokova sensed the danger of me running off. She needed to get me into the house quickly, so she modified her strategy. “I see: you’re mute.” She continued telling me off but stepped to the side. “Come in, I don’t like to talk to you at the door! The neighbors are listening.” I slowly stepped forward and she closed the door. She took my arm and dragged me towards the far end of the hallway. Lady Birch was just coming out of the kitchen. “Look here!” Ms. Kryokova told her. “This little brat hasn’t said a word yet. Not a word of sorrow, no excuse, no thank you for being invited in, no explanation why he is here ‘ and of course no flowers as a sign of repentance!” “What do you want?” Lady Birch’s voice sounded kindly, as she asked me. She looked at me with a weirdly mixed expression of pity and superiority, compassion and dominance, desperation and excited anticipation. “Did you come to get your clothes?” All I could do was nod ‘ I felt too embarrassed. “Then come down to the basement ‘ you know where the laundry is.” She commanded in a soft voice, leading the way. “To be honest, I am disappointed with you. Ms. Kryokova is right: I have not heard a single word of repentance or remorse. You seem to expect us to accept your behavior like it is ‘ and you have behaved quite rudely the last time you were here!” Her friendly voice made me feel the accusations even more deeply. I felt sorry. I’d dreamt of being friends with Lady Birch. She had given me the chance to see her vulva and I hoped to be allowed another glance if she would like me. But I had messed it all up. Everything I did, I did it wrong’ Suddenly a flicker of hope shot through my mind: What if she felt I should be punished again? Maybe in a similar way as last time? Maybe it wasn’t that bad if she was angry at me? When I looked back, up the stairs, I saw Ms. Kryokova’s face. And her expression couldn’t frighten me as much as before: she looked stern and overpoweringly dominant, but at the same time I felt that there was more; unconsciously, I felt the sexual tension that was dominating the situation. And in Lady Birch’s face, too ‘ there was a certain apprehension, a tension that promised more than scolding words. As soon as we entered the laundry room, Ms. Kryokova grabbed my backpack and dragged and pushed me onto the chair by pulling at its handle. As she made me sit down with one hand, her other hand pulled the backpack upwards, slipping it of my lifted arms. She was still standing behind me. I could feel her breasts touching my shoulders, she was this close. She didn’t move. I breathed harder. What would happen next? I was tensed up with apprehension. Lady Birch walked up to us and straddled me, still standing. She was very close, I had to bend back into Ms. Kryokova’s d’collet’ and look right up to face her. She looked down at me and said: “Do you remember what happened last time you sat on this chair?” She was talking about me presumably wetting my pants. She couldn’t know it had been her neighbor’s pee, I thought. I nodded. “Did you ever say sorry for this?” she inquired. I shook my head. Should I tell her I was innocent? Anyways, she wouldn’t believe me, I thought. “Do you think it was good behavior? Do you think I can accept that something like this happens to my friend in my house? And you don’t even excuse yourself!” Again, I had to shake my head. She was sitting on my lap now, firmly pushing her crotch against my belly. “Ms. Kryokova and I have agreed that you need to feel a more severe punishment if you prove to be resistant to our previous lessons. And I fear you didn’t prove you learnt anything from the last lesson you got!” How could I deny that she was right? I looked at her, feelings of understanding, repentance and submission mixing in my expression. But I could not get any wiser from her expression. Little did I know that she was fighting hard to contain her pee: She was beyond desperate now and had already started leaking into her panties. She felt a trickle of pee running down her left thigh and the crotch of her panties was more than soaked already: She was desperate to get over the introduction and finally release her bladder’s contents on my lap. Her arousal at the thought of what was going to happen did not exactly make it easier for her to hold on. She needed to piss now! “I see you feel the power of my correct verdict; but I doubt that you will remember it for a long time. So we will have to reinforce it with a more severe punishment than last time.” Saying this, she lifted her dress far enough that it didn’t touch my clothes, pulling it from between us. She was sitting right on my crotch now, her breasts briefly touching my face as she was bending forward to reduce the pressure on her bladder. Then she straightened up again, pushing her lower body hard against mine. She was peeing forcefully into her panties, it had started quite suddenly and she couldn’t hold it back anymore. Her face was showing the extreme relief she felt. After she had peed for about ten seconds, she regained control over herself. Slowly, she continued to pee. I felt her golden liquid soaking into my trousers, drenching my panties, little rivulets flowing along my waist into my crotch and forming a puddle in the seat under my butt. She prepared to get up; I felt how her weight on my thighs decreased and then how she gently rubbed her crotch along my belly. Now, she pulled up her dress further, gathering it in one hand, making sure it didn’t touch her wet knickers. This might have taken her ten seconds. She was standing now, still straddling me, her dress pulled up all the way to my face, tickling my nose. Her pee was running along the insides of her thighs and dripping off her panties onto my wet belly and legs. Her free hand reached for her crotch and pulled her panties aside. She arched her back, bringing her hips forward, and pushed hard to release the last jet of her clear golden–tinted pee. I could see the stream of pee appear under the hem of her dress, arching towards my chest, wetting my t–shirt. Wet warmth spread all over my body as the pee was soaking into my clothes and trickling down my skin. Unfortunately, she held her dress such that I could not see the origin of her stream. I longed to see her vulva, to get a glance of her wonderfully thick black bush and her beautifully red inner labia! But I did not get a chance ‘ I had to sit there, my shoulders held by Ms. Kryokova behind me and my sight hindered by the gathered fabric of the dress only a few centimeters from my head. Instead, I concentrated on the feeling of warm pee running down my skin, collecting in a warm puddle on the seat, then soaking into the fabric of my pants and running along my legs into my shoes. A light scent of bitter–sweet pee flavored the air around me, bringing back memories of that far away time (three weeks ago) when I saw her pussy for the first time. Lady Birch was still straddling me, apparently unmoved, as my senses returned to the here and now. I saw her whole body tremble slightly. Looking up to her face, I noticed a hint of uncertainty, of her being at a loss how to continue my punishment. Her mind seemed to be in a different world. Ms. Kryokova was shaking with lust by now. Her firm, full breasts were still touching my neck. Until the very last moment, she had not believed Ms. Birch would do it. But now she saw that her compassionate and empathetic friend had followed her manipulation and given in to lust and desire rather than following morals and her conscience. Ms. Kryokova felt proud of her achievement, a wave of lust and satisfaction ran through her body. It had been right not to tell her friend that she had peed on that little brat’s lap last time: Ms. Birch would never have agreed to her scheme had she known the truth, she thought. Yet now she was sure they had crossed a point of no return. She felt confident she could now launch the second stage of her mischievous plan. “What are you waiting for?” she addressed me, “Help Ms. Birch in her awkward situation and pull down her panties. You know how to do that!” Instinctively, I moved my arms up. They were covered with pee, since I had them hanging at my sides during the punishment. Slowly, I lifted my hand at the inside of Lady Birch’s thighs until I reached the limits of my sightline. Very careful, I continued to move, desperately trying not to touch anything with my wet hands. After a while, I felt something wet tickle the back of my hand ‘ I had reached the outer limits of her pubic hair. I stopped to move. How should I know where to find her panties without touching her dry skin with my wet hands? I was too confused to realize that her inner thighs were anything but dry’ Lady Birch must have understood ‘ she pulled her gathered dress as high as she could, using only one hand. My gaze followed the movement of her dress’ hem until I could see her other hand, still holding her panties to the side. I moved my hand higher, taking hold of the wet panties’ crotch right next to her hand. I could feel her hand tremble as our hands briefly touched. As soon as I had taken hold of the panties, she removed her hand, using it to gather her dress higher. I wasn’t sure anymore: did she really tremble or was it me, shaking with lust? As the hem moved up higher, I could see some pubic hair appear, the visible triangle slowly grew, I saw her bright red inner labia shimmer through the wet curtain of hair as more and more of her mons pubis was exposed to my stare. Her panties covered the right upper half of the triangle her pubic hair formed, creating a diagonal line parallel to her left groin. I was so excited ‘ I had been waiting for this view ever since she had straddled me. And hoping for it much longer. I was so immersed in staring at her, I didn’t move at all. Ms. Kryokova had been disappointed that she could not see how Ms. Birch peed on me from her vantage point. As she saw that I would not budge when Ms. Birch straddled me and announced the punishment, she had regretted her choice of standing behind me. She had been ready to hold me in place should I have shown any signs of flight instinct. But this proved to be unnecessary and Ms. Kryokova had ended up seeing nothing but a gathered dress in front of my face. She had had to rely entirely on her other senses to savor the situation: she heard the pee splashing on my clothes and smelled the odor of fresh urine wafting through the room. She was incredibly turned on. The idea of tricking her friend into peeing through her panties on a little boy’s lap, the imagination of her friend being aroused by what she did, the feeling of successful manipulation and subtle power exertion, the dominance over me, the humiliation I had to go through ‘ mostly innocent as she knew: all this formed into a giant wave of lust shaking her body, almost blowing her mind. Now that she was at the next stage, she needed new stimuli to satisfy her desires. “Why don’t you take of that dress entirely?” she asked Ms. Birch. “It’ll only get wet ‘ hand it to me and I can put it in a safe place.” Ms. Birch hesitated at first, but then quickly pulled the dress over her head and passed it to Ms. Kryokova. Was it the first time that I saw her almost naked, wearing only a bra and her wet panties? I didn’t know, I had dreamt so many times about her I couldn’t distinguish fantasy from reality anymore. But I wasn’t going to be interested in her bra and belly when I could see a female crotch. Seeing her mons pubis covered with thick black curly hair, her wonderful red labia shining through: This was paradise, I thought. And so I looked back down at the wet panties, wet hair, and shiny pussy lips. My hand moved up to the upper hem of her panties, finally beginning to pull them down as I had done with Ms. Kryokova’s knickers a fortnight ago. A bit of pubic hair appeared; then more and more until I had finally uncovered her pussy, the panties dangling half way down to her knees. Here I stopped; the straddling legs were too far apart to allow further movement. What would happen next, I wondered. “Lick her pussy dry as you did with mine last time!” Ms. Kryokova ordered. I had to twist to get my head to Ms. Birch’s vulva. Last time I had been kneeling, now I was sitting on a chair, Ms. Birch’s vulva less than a foot in front of me, but about ten centimeters below my chin. Bending my back, I slid to the edge of the chair and tilted my head sideways. Now I could reach her groin, her mons pubis and part of her legs. I started to gently suck on her thighs to remove any pee that had found its way up there, progressing towards her pubic hair, softly pulling a few hairs between my lips to wipe off any drops of pee that clung to them. Finally, I reached her clitoral hood and the front of her inner labia. They were larger than Ms. Kryokova’s, and somehow felt different. I slid my tongue along them to feel the differences, to store every detail of them in my brain. But even as Lady Birch pushed her hips forward, I could not reach the inner areas of her thighs nor cover her full crotch with my tongue. I was so immersed in my task that I didn’t notice what happened over my head. Ms. Kryokova leaned forward to her neighbor and whispered in her ear: “Do you remember what we discussed in the kitchen? I really need to pee by now ‘ I wonder how he will react if I announce that I want to piss into his backpack!” Ms. Birch was shocked. Her friend could not do that, she thought. It would leave traces too obvious and it could ruin the valuable books and exercise books. But at the same time she was intrigued: would Ms. Kryokova really do it? And what would that little boy still licking her pussy say about it? Was her neighbor only teasing to watch her reaction? After all, Ms. Kryokova had not participated in any of the peeing yet, she realized. Her own interests required that Ms. Kryokova put herself in a compromising situation, too! Otherwise she was vulnerable to laughter, even to blackmail. Nevertheless, could she accept her friend to ruin the poor boy’s belongings? You could wash clothes, but books? “You cannot do that ‘ it will ruin the books!” she whispered to her friend, adding: “At least give him a choice to avoid it!” “Ok. I shall wait a little bit. But I can’t hold it too long, I am getting desperate.” A few moments passed. Ms. Kryokova was considering her options and Ms. Birch enjoyed the soft teasing of my tongue around her clitoral hood. “Listen: step back and let him fully remove your knickers. Ask him to get undressed before he lies down on that heap of dirty laundry over there. It will be more comfortable for you to straddle him there and let him clean your inner thighs and your vulva with his tongue.” Ms. Kryokova suggested. “In the meantime, I’ll squat over his backpack to watch you. He will notice and I shall warn him in time about my desperate need to pee. We shall see what happens next.” Ms. Birch agreed immediately. She hadn’t listened to the whole proposal; she had heard her friend’s recommendation to take on a more comfortable position to have her pussy licked. And she had noticed that her friend was not immediately going to urinate into the backpack, so there was no need to worry. All she needed now was to feel my tongue more intensely, reaching the inside of her labia, her clitoris. She was shivering at the thought alone. She stepped back and told me: “Take off my panties all the way and then remove your wet clothes. You will catch a cold, if you wear them much longer!” It was true, I hadn’t noticed, but the pee was getting cold and I had goose bumps despite my excitement. Quickly, I pulled her panties down and got up to remove my clothes. My t–shirt almost ripped as I pulled at its neck as the wet fabric was clinging to my skin. I was barely naked as Ms. Kryokova grabbed me from behind and pushed me onto the heap of dirty laundry. I saw her squat at an angle to my position as I looked around me. I felt a tingle as I realized she had spread her legs wide, exposing her panties to my view. She bent forward, blocking my view with her arms. What was she doing? She was fiddling with something on the floor. It was my backpack: she was opening the zipper and pulling the front forward from under her legs. Why was she doing this? I mean, she could squat over my backpack if that was the best position for her to watch, but why would she open it? Was she getting bored and planned to have a look at my books? That seemed unlikely’ A shadow made me turn my head back. Ms. Birch stood astride over me. Now she was squatting directly over my head. I forgot everything about Ms. Kryokova and concentrated on the vulva that was approaching my face. It was the first time that I saw Ms. Birch’s vulva from directly underneath, her pronounced inner labia parting as she opened her legs wider. I got a glimpse at her clitoris ‘ I hadn’t seen one before, not even Ms. Kryokova’s. I saw her vulvar vestibule, the opening to her vagina, I was totally excited. As soon as she was close enough, I started to lick her inner thighs, progressing as fast as I could to proceed quickly to suck her labia, to discover the area between them that I had just got a short glance of. She tasted slightly different than Ms. Kryokova, I thought. But I liked it and I felt how she shivered every time my tongue got close to her clitoris. Ms. Kryokova had positioned herself such that she could watch us. She enjoyed how her neighbor was approaching orgasm as I had licked her for a few minutes. This was the right moment, she thought! “Uh, oh, I can’t hold it anymore!” she shouted. She saw how Ms. Birch’s head turned to her. A little trickle left her urethra, wetting her panties’ crotch. There must be a clearly visible wet spot, she thought, a rush of excitement passing her spine. “This is too much, I am wetting myself!” she called out, pressing her hand against her pussy and feeling more pee soak into the fabric. Ms. Birch’s eyes widened. Her neighbor was really wetting herself! Only now she realized that Ms. Kryokova was straddling my open backpack. “Is she really going to ruin the poor boy’s books”, she thought? She had to stop her! I hadn’t noticed anything of what was happening. Totally absorbed in my task, I licked her pussy clean and now decided to thoroughly wipe the area around her clitoris with my tongue. Ms. Birch gave a jolt as a wave of pleasure shook her body. She didn’t really care what Ms. Kryokova did at the moment ‘ exactly as her mischievous friend had calculated. Another short jet of warm, golden liquid left her neighbor’s bladder and wet her panties. The wet spot now covered her crotch completely, and a first drop started to form and drip into the backpack as she pulled back her hand. This was so exciting! As she released another very short spurt, it went almost directly through the fabric clinging to her pubic hair and dripped into the open backpack. She pulled up her dress to watch her pee’s destiny. This movement restored Ms. Birch’s attention. She was abruptly brought back to reality, only seconds before she experienced an orgasm. It took her a while to realize what she saw: Ms. Kryokova had exposed her panties and was looking down at her wet crotch, pee steadily dripping from her panties into my backpack. “This is not true! This cannot be happening! Ms. Kryokova is not peeing in his backpack!” she thought. “It was just a dream, a fantasy, a story we made up over tea in the kitchen ‘ this simply can’t be reality. I must be dreaming!” And again my tongue hit a sweet spot; Ms. Birch forgot about Ms. Kryokova and was oblivious to anything but the waves of pleasure flooding her mind. Ms. Kryokova had watched another very short spurt of pee finding its way through her panties and dripping into my backpack. Excited, she saw how her pee was dripping onto my atlas and building a small elevated puddle on the plastic cover. As another few drops emerged from her pussy, the puddle started to spread; the pee was slowly making its way across the atlas and started to run down its spine, soaking into the fabric of the backpack. Ms. Birch experienced the best orgasm she could think of as I was still caressing her pussy with my tongue, gently sucking at her urethra. She hadn’t known this felt so good! Thirty seconds passed, and she was still shaking from the hormones that flooded her body. Ms. Kryokova had stemmed the flow and was looking at us. She was trembling with excitement as she saw how Ms. Birch experienced her orgasm, totally oblivious of what was happening right in front of her. She loved to think how Ms. Birch had unwittingly consented to her wetting the schoolbooks by concentrating on her orgasm rather than objecting to her friend’s act. She had told her before, and Ms. Birch would certainly feel remorse or at least occasional pangs of conscience when she was in her senses again. Ms. Kryokova was aroused at the idea of inflicting her neighbor with qualms and she loved to torture that little innocent boy by wetting his school stuff. His humiliation when he had to tell his parents or his teachers! Or Ms. Birch ‘ what would be her reaction when she found out that the boy was in fact innocent and had never peed on her? She would tell Ms. Birch later, adding to her pricks of conscience! Slowly, Ms. Birch was recovering and her stare got livelier. She looked around and her gaze stopped at Ms. Kryokova. Really, she had forgotten about that! Ms. Kryokova saw how a conscious stare was focusing on her crotch and she cautiously released another jet of pee. She stopped immediately, looking down to see it trickle through her panties, dripping onto the atlas, spreading in a new puddle across the cover. She looked at Ms. Birch and saw her friend’s eyes widen in disbelief. Another carefully controlled stream of pee was allowed to pass her urethra, and a constant, slow trickle from her panties onto the atlas developed. Ms. Birch saw how the wet spot in Ms. Kryokova’s panties got darker, then how a dent formed, a drop hanging from it, now falling into the backpack. More drops followed, developing into a constant trickle. She looked at the backpack. Yes, it was open, and the pee dropped onto a book. There was a puddle on the book already, threatening to run off its corner! Ms. Kryokova was so horny; she had to concentrate hard not to rub herself to orgasm straight away. She loved how Ms. Birch’s eyes had widened, how she was staring at her in disbelief, how she was still fighting to shake off the effects of her orgasm, desperately trying to grasp the full meaning of the situation. Looking down, Ms. Kryokova saw how her little trickle fueled the growth of a sizeable puddle on the atlas, now almost reaching the corner. A few drops more, and the puddle would spill over the corner, wetting the pages of the book before they reached an exercise book. Excitement flooded her body ‘ this was so wicked, she felt so naughty! The next drops would make the puddle overflow, playing havoc with the books. She put her hand in her crotch and pressed the wet, warm fabric against her vulva as she released another carefully measured spurt of pee. Urine was running over her fingers and she saw how drops of her golden nectar filled the puddle; it spilled over the corner, wet the pages and left a large stain on the exercise book’s unprotected cover before spreading further over the sheet, leaving a darkened trace where the pee soaked into the paper. She enjoyed the destruction her pee was causing on my books. Then she forced herself to stop the flow again and looked up at us. “I just couldn’t help it.” She excused herself. “The pressure got too strong; I can barely hold it now!” She was holding her crotch now, pressing her hand firmly against her wet panties, savoring the stimulation of her clit. “But you cannot pee into the backpack. Just look at the books in there ‘ it would be hard to repair the damage.” Ms. Birch replied. She was happy that her neighbor had gotten herself into a compromising situation, and it excited her how daring her friend was. But she couldn’t accept any more damage to happen’ “I’m afraid it already happened.” Ms. Kryokova shrugged her shoulders. “I was so concentrated on watching you, I completely forgot about my desperation. Suddenly it happened and I couldn’t stop it in time!” This was not exactly true ‘ she was not as desperate yet. But she really needed to pee and she had enjoyed releasing a few spurts in such a naughty manner, indulging in the feelings this would create in Ms. Birch and me. And it was so exciting to watch her own pee slowly soak into my stuff, ruining it in slow motion, she thought. How the wetness darkened the paper as her urine soaked into it ‘ a far slower and enduring experience than just watching the first squirt soaking her panties. She needed this extra time to bring her sexual arousal to the top. Sometimes, she was so turned on by her mischievous acts’ The last exchange had attracted my attention. So Ms. Kryokova was actually wetting herself? Was she still sitting with her legs wide open, facing us? Meaning I could get an unobstructed view at her wet panties? All of a sudden, wet panties appeared so much more interesting than an exposed pussy I already licked for a while. I turned my head away from Ms. Birch’s crotch and looked at Ms. Kryokova. Really, she was still sitting astride over my backpack, and her wet knickers continued dripping pee into it. How exciting! ‘ Indeed she was a naughty woman, I thought. She had really ‘ even if not intently ‘ peed on my backpack! Through her panties! I started to tremble with excited compassion as I saw how Ms. Kryokova showed her wet hand to her neighbor. Ms. Kryokova saw that I was looking and with a shiver along her spine she felt her bladder twinge. It turned her on to imagine giving me a live example of what she had been doing ‘ and unwittingly, she moved her hips a bit and spurted into her panties. She knew she shouldn’t be doing it as soon as she felt her urine trickling into her vulval vestibule; that her pee was already soaking into the paper of my books. But she just couldn’t resist the temptation. She prepared another spurt ‘ this time consciously. And so again pee collected in her panties, as a carefully measured squirt found its way through the fabric and started to drop into my backpack. It was now dropping onto the far side of the atlas and quickly started to run down the spine, soaking into the fabric of the backpack. It was better to avoid too heavy damage to the books for the moment Ms. Kryokova had decided and moved accordingly. “Stop it!” Ms. Birch cried and got up. “Be careful, I mean, no you can’t do this, think of the consequences!” She was totally confused. But slowly, she had been getting sober again and her mind had started reeling about possible consequences of my things being damaged. Ms. Kryokova apparently managed to stem the flood again. A last few drops were dripping from her panties, but there was no longer a constant trickle. Ms. Birch was now standing next to her. She appeared to be nervous. I was staring at them, at Ms. Birch’s exposed hairy vulva and Ms. Kryokova’s wet panties, a last drop forming to fall and soak into my backpack. “It feels so good!” Ms. Kryokova whispered to her neighbor. “Look how my pee is soaking into the fabric ‘ the back of the backpack is all wet now! And here, where it wet the paper ‘ it really turns me on!” “Don’t tell me you did this on purpose?” Ms. Birch whispered back, shocked but somehow thrilled. “No,” she lied, “but when I saw it dripping down it turned me on’” “But what are you going to do now?” Ms. Birch wanted to know. She admired her friend for the courage to make her dreams come true. “Can’t you feel the excitement? ‘ I actually did what we were fantasizing about in the kitchen! I hadn’t thought it would ever come true’” Ms. Kryokova replied. Shocked and excited, Ms. Birch noticed how her vulva started throbbing at the thought that Ms. Kryokova might even deliberately continue to pee into the backpack. What should she do in this case, she thought? She had a bad conscience about the books’ but at the same time she somehow wished her friend did it. Ms. Kryokova guessed Ms. Birch’s emotions. She could feel her friend’s indecision. Inwardly smiling to herself, she got up, pulled down her wet panties and kicked them off her feet, making sure they fell into the backpack. Her wet panties now lay on top of my books, soaking in the last drops that were left on the atlas’ cover. I was watching them, my penis twitching as Ms Kryokova was uncovering her private parts. Had anyone noticed my arousal? Pretending desperation, Ms. Kryokova bent over as if a sudden surge was overcoming her. Quickly, she squatted in the same spot as before. Seeing her squatting with her legs wide apart turned me on ‘ I immensely enjoyed the view, only wishing I could be closer. Within seconds of her squatting, I saw a short but sharp jet of pee emerge from her vulva. It shot forward and splashed onto my backpack’s open front flap. My excitement rose. What a stream, what force! I wanted to see more of this! On the other hand, I hoped she would not wet all my books ‘ my conscience was vividly drawing pictures of the consequences at home. The idea of my backpack being drenched in Ms Kryokova’s pee turned me on, but I knew I would be in trouble if my books would be destroyed. “I fear I can’t hold it anymore. I’ll have to continue if we don’t find a solution soon!” Ms. Kryokova told her friend, not whispering anymore and pressing her hand firmly against her vulva. She had enjoyed how her jet of pee hit the backpack, soaking into the fabric immediately whilst I was watching with my eyes wide open and her friend standing next to her, staring in awe. The scent of her pee was slowly filling the room, adding to her neighbor’s flavor emanating from my body still glistening in wetness. Ms. Birch found it strangely reminded her of the incident two weeks ago ‘ and realized it turned her on. “You could pee on him like I did last time.” Ms. Birch suggested, a hot wave shaking her as she remembered how aroused she had been. She didn’t even think about punishing me anymore, it was just the desire to provide Ms. Kryokova with an adequate place in replacement for the backpack. She was completely oblivious on how I might feel about it ‘ she didn’t care. They had never yet asked me for my opinion and she had come to take my submission for granted. Arousal had been building constantly over the last minutes; she was absolutely horny again, unconsciously suppressing her morals as her hand tickled her vulva. My quietness helped a lot to keep her peaceful mind. Ms. Kryokova realized what her friend didn’t. She knew she had to take the chance and do what her friend suggested. Later she could tell her how she had been abetted by her to pee on me, completely unloading all responsibility. She whispered: “And what if I squat his face? He can lick me dry immediately when I finish peeing on him.” “I don’t think it matters where you sit?” Ms. Birch said, not aware of what that meant. She just considered it would be smart to let her neighbor choose her favorite spot and position so she would not regret giving up the backpack. And she was looking forward to discussing the current situation at a later tea time ‘ she had always been very aroused by the way Ms. Kryokova discussed the subject. “You could sit on his lap so he doesn’t move and I come over to squat in your previous position” Ms. Kryokova suggested. She had not finished her sentence when another short spurt of lightly scented urine left her bladder to emphasize the urgency of her need. She looked down and saw how pee was soaking into her wet panties still laying on the books. Her urine was completely drenching the fabric, thus wrapping the books in a tight wet cover. Yes, this spurt had been well aimed, she thought, excited. Ms. Birch followed her friend’s look and in awe starred at the ebbing stream adding to the destruction in my backpack. She got nervous: The drenched panties were clenching on to the books, slowly releasing their wetness to the paper. Ms. Kryokova would have to move away quickly to avoid real damage! “Maybe he would even drink my pee if I promise not to wet his books anymore?” Ms. Kryokova mused, partly to herself. That was a wicked idea ‘ she had to hold on to it, she thought! But there was no question of doing it today’ Ms. Birch didn’t even listen. She only wanted to get her friend away from the backpack as quickly as possible. “Why don’t you ask him, then?” she replied automatically and turned to approach me. She hoped Ms. Kryokova would follow her example suit and leave the backpack alone. “That’s a good suggestion, thank you!” her neighbor said, hit by a wave of sudden excitement, and got up smiling. Her neighbor had not rejected her daring proposition, no: she was even encouraging her. This promised to be thrilling. And she wouldn’t bother to heed the dirty brat’s opinion’ Moments later, the two ladies stood in front of me. “Take off your dress so it won’t get wet!” Ms. Birch suggested and straddled me. Ms. Kryokova decided that was another good suggestion ‘ she undressed and straddled me, too. Squatting down, she said: “I really like to punish this little brat. He should learn from it!” Turning to me, she added: “You’d better obey me now or your school stuff will be ruined!” She almost sat on my face. Her vulva was about twenty centimeters from my face. I saw her wet pubic hair, her slightly parted inner labia, a hint of her clitoris hidden within, and in the shadow I could guess her urethra and vagina. I didn’t know which I preferred: Ms. Birch’s thick hairy bush, her red and pronounced labia, her larger clitoris and clitoral hood or Ms. Kryokova’s less hairy, lighter tanned pussy with a shallower vulvar vestibule, presenting her clitoris, urethra and vagina more clearly to my eyes. Whatever the final decision might be ‘ I loved to watch them both. I nodded, not diverting my gaze from her vulva. I had no idea about her kinky idea and what was going to follow! Ms. Birch was now squatting. I felt her pubic hair briefly brush my erect penis. After a while I felt it again, getting closer. Ms. Birch had found the squatting position uncomfortable and prepared to really sit on my lap. I felt her pubic hair touch my groin, my penis being pushed forward as her crotch settled on mine. “I am going to pee in your face now!” Ms. Kryokova continued, watching my face. My facial expression must have shown little disgust: The same moment Ms. Birch had readjusted her seat and her moist inner labia were gently rubbing my scrotum. My little dick twitched, pushing against her mons pubis ‘ it felt real good! This was not what she had expected to see. Ms. Kryokova scowled at me and ‘ letting a short spurt escape her urethra ‘ she said: “Listen: I will pee little spurts into your mouth and you will swallow them. If you stop drinking my pee, it means that you give me permission to release the remainder of my bladder’s contents into your backpack. Ok?” Finally settled in a cozy position, Ms. Birch listened to the last part of the sentence. “If you stop ‘ bladder’s contents ‘ backpack.” ‘ That didn’t sound good! Nervously she rocked for– and backward. Would I do what Ms. Kryokova had asked for? She had not heard what it was, but she fervently wished I agreed ‘ nothing was worse than Ms. Kryokova releasing all her bladder contents into the backpack! Seeing her urethra move forward and opening up as her lightly scented pee left her vulva made me shake with excitement. This was the first time I had been able to see close up how a woman peed. Ms. Birch enjoyed the stimulation on her clitoral hood that was caused by my penis pressing against it as I was trembling. She got turned on more and more. She tried to look at my face, waiting for my reply to Ms. Kryokova’s question. As I didn’t reply immediately, Ms. Kryokova released another short jet of her golden pee. Ms. Birch realized in awe that her friend actually peed on my face and suddenly became aware of their conversation earlier. Had I already agreed to follow her friend’s orders? She blushed: Hadn’t she accorded that this would be a good idea? She felt qualms as she watched the pee hit my face, splashing all over it. This had not been her intention! But what had she intended? What had she been thinking? Nothing at all, she realized. And why had Ms. Kryokova thanked her for a suggestion? She couldn’t remember’ I felt the pee run over my face, some of it collecting in a little puddle in my eye, some running down my cheeks to wet my ear and some moistening my lips. I opened my mouth slightly and tasted the drops falling into it. It wasn’t that bad: slightly salty and with a unique blend of bitter–sweet flavor to it. I nodded again ‘ yes, I would drink it and avoid my schoolbooks being ruined. Ms. Kryokova had been watching me full of expectation. She knew that de facto she could not destroy my books and she hoped that she had been intimidating enough to make me consent to her unconventional proposal. Now she felt triumph: I had consented and she was only following her friend’s suggestions. She had managed to blame everything on us, even if it was her own nasty idea and desire. But would Ms. Birch try to stop her? Would she still consent to punish that little brat if it took these forms? She changed her position such that her vulva was almost touching my face, her urethra directed at my mouth. She had seen how I had opened it slightly and after a few seconds, I felt a few drops dripping from her urethra directly into my mouth. This very moment her labia were tickling my lips. Instinctively, I licked my lips, my tongue touching her labia and even swiping her urethra briefly. Ms. Kryokova felt a wave of pleasure at this touch and swore she would not let me go. Meanwhile, Ms Birch was desperately trying to remember her suggestion. She knew it must have been something naughty and she was sure she would be aroused if she could remember it. Thinking about all the different options they had discussed in the kitchen, she got really wet again. She started to fantasize, to relive the last hour or so in her dreams and unconsciously rocked her vulva against my dick. “How does it taste?” Ms. Kryokova asked, sternly looking at me, lifting her body slightly. Ms. Birch almost jumped as she heard this. This had been her suggestion: ask him if he drinks it, she remembered. Was this really happening now? Certainly not! No, not even Ms. Kryokova would do anything as kinky as that! This was no longer punishment, this was cruelty, she thought. No answer ‘ Ms. Kryokova took it for good news and prepared another shot. I had swallowed the few drops and opened my mouth in expectation. What would it feel like if a real jet of pee hit my mouth, I wondered? And there it was: a short, strong stream of pee hit my palatine. It filled my mouth completely within a second and I had a hard time swallowing the urine in my almost horizontal position. I was excited to be this close to a pussy. And as I realized that at the same time a second pussy was sitting on my dick, I felt a pleasure never experienced before. I lifted my hip; I had to press myself against Ms. Birch’s crotch! “He doesn’t like it!” Ms. Birch thought as I pushed my abdomen against her. “He is trying to escape!” And strangely, she didn’t continue along this line of thought as she usually would have done, but let a different emotion take over: “This feels real good!” she found herself thinking. “His dick is pressing hard against my clit.” She rocked a bit up and down to increase the stimulation. “Come on, give me more!” she thought and let pleasure take over her brain. Another jet of pee filled my mouth and was swallowed obediently. I looked up into Ms. Kryokova’s face and was surprised: that stern look had gone; she looked somehow absent, her lust mirrored in her face. “Ah! She is enjoying it!” I thought. It didn’t really matter to me, I believed. But then I felt my body quiver: if she liked it, there was a real chance of it going on for a while. I didn’t know if I wanted to drink all her piss, but I knew I would be happy as long as I could look at her naked pussy and lick it. Ms. Birch felt my jolt and thought: “Yes, that’s it! It feels wonderful ‘ just go on!” Yet seeing how her neighbor sat on my face, she felt her bad conscience return: “He must be really suffering, poor boy. I wouldn’t want to drink someone’s pee!” But instead of getting up and releasing me she pushed against my movement, increasing the pressure. She felt like she was watching from the outside. She didn’t recognize herself. Here she was, compassionate with the cruelty done to a poor teenage boy and at the same time she enjoyed being part of the cruel complot punishing their victim, holding him pinned to the ground. “Am I going insane?” she asked herself, “I like to sit here, and I don’t give a damn on what he is feeling!” Ms Kryokova felt her arousal rise, she was nearing an orgasm and she knew it. Her wildest dreams were fulfilling: she was forcing a young, innocent teen drink her pee, threatening to destroy his books which were already nearly ruined by her piss, wet knickers still covering them in a blanket full of pee. And all this happened more or less on behalf of her friend who would never have consented had she known the reason for this punishment was completely faked. She had to make that boy drink another gulp of her urine; so much it turned her on. She wished this would never end. Would her bladder refill fast enough to make it last a little longer? As this question raged her brain, another jet of pee left her urethra, passing her labia to disappear between the lips of the teenager lying underneath her. She looked at his face and saw an expression of complete devotion and acceptance. She felt she could do anything to this boy now and he would let her do it. Ms. Birch was experiencing a struggle of her good side ‘ her conscience ‘ trying to dominate her thoughts and actions, telling her to release their poor victim; and her vicious, twisted side ‘ reckless egoism craving for satisfaction ‘ which had become stronger and more dominant ever since she had confided her first encounter with their victim to her neighbor. Did her neighbor possibly play a vital role in suppressing her conscience and giving more and more importance to her animal spirits, to her secret sexual desires, to her hidden lust to dominate? As another spurt of pee was swallowed by her victim, Ms. Kryokova experienced her first orgasm of the day. “Lick my pussy, clean it after every spurt!” she ordered. And I thoroughly wiped her labia; not forgetting to remove the sticky fluid from her vagina and making sure her clitoris was freed of any trace of pee. Ms. Kryokova immediately experienced another, stronger orgasm. She almost fainted. A fresh jet of pee followed as a thank you. I swallowed and started to wonder how much more there was as my tongue was playing with her clitoris. Looking at my face, Ms. Kryokova thought to distinguish a hint of suppressed disgust, mixed with desire to please and curiosity, which promised large potential to be exploited. “This boy will serve me to discover new pleasures. He is curious and obedient, he will accept to be treated like dirt as long as he gets pussy!” But what about her neighbor? She wasn’t so sure about Ms. Birch. Had her plan worked out to make her sit on the little penis? Did she feel it tickle her private parts? Had her previous orgasm been too strong for her sexual arousal to recover? She knew that Ms. Birch would need to be really turned on to overcome her struggling conscience’ Ms. Birch experienced another twinge of conscience as she heard her friend speak out aloud what was happening. “After every spurt” ‘ it seemed so cruel, and her neighbor was continuing relentlessly, unforgiving. It had been quite a while that she was sitting on their victim’s face and apparently continuously peeing into his mouth. Here! She could see his throat move as another gulp of pee passed to his stomach. She should really be stopping this! But, no, she couldn’t. It was as if any strength left her as soon as she considered ending this situation. And strangely, she felt ever more aroused, her lust increased with every moment she sat astride the boy and rubbed herself against his tiny penis. This boy was serving as their sex slave and it was his own fault. Why didn’t he say sorry? Why did he have to pee his pants as Ms. Kryokova sat on his lap? He really deserved to be severely punished after his failure to react appropriately to their previous, softer approaches! In the light of this, drinking pee seemed just the right punishment for pissing his pants and wetting her neighbor’s knickers in the process’ Even if she knew she was making up excuses to calm her bad conscience, she was surprised to find herself to be quite content with that. No, she wasn’t going to search for reasons to stop; it was not her duty. No, she would have to start considering options only if that dirty brat uttered any complaint. As it was, everything was all right! Ms. Kryokova turned to look at Ms. Birch and tried to read her expression for the first time since she had straddled their victim. “Wow!” she thought. It seemed as though her manipulations were working. Wasn’t it sexual arousal at its finest radiating from her? She decided to try a bit more. “I really like how you drink my pee!” she told me. Turning to her friend she added: “It’s such a turn on to feel this little brat obediently licking my pussy, swallowing every drop of my hot, golden piss!” Her friend looked up, slowly apprehending what had been said. “Do you really like it so much?” she asked. “Incredibly!” Ms. Kryokova replied. “It was a good idea you suggested I let him drink my pee!” This was not exactly true ‘ and she knew it had been her own idea. But she wanted to plant another source for qualms in her friend’s brain. “Come on, admit it: you are enjoying yourself as much as I am!” she went on. “I can see it in your face!” Ms. Birch blushed. She felt caught in the act. But it was true, she was approaching another climax. “I wanna hear it!” Ms. Kryokova teased. “Say it aloud: it feels so good if you openly admit it to yourself. Don’t be shy!” She knew it would help her neighbor to overcome her qualms. And she knew moral scruples were her real nature, that the sexual pleasure from this torture was a misguided desire to fully accept her long suppressed sexuality. Ms. Kryokova was fully aware of the role she held in driving her friend in this direction and it turned her on to be responsible for turning her neighbor into a ruthless and self–centered lady loving to unscrupulously dominate and humiliate this young boy. It was even better she would later feel the pain of a bad conscience nagging at her, bringing back the exciting memories all over again. What a vicious circle she was creating in her friend’s mind! She fully enjoyed the prospect. “It doesn’t feel right. But yes, it is true: I like this, it turns me on!” Ms. Birch finally admitted. “I knew it. You feel qualms, but really you enjoy sitting there, pinning that little brat to the floor and making him drink my pee to the last drop as you suggested it.” Ms. Kryokova replied, twisting the truth a little. “Here, see how I fill his mouth with my pee!” She lifted her body and from a distance of about thirty centimeters she shot a new jet of warm pee into my mouth. Part of it didn’t hit its target and ran down my cheeks. Then she moved down again as I swallowed. “It feels so good when he is licking my pussy clean. And I love to know that it is a futile attempt since it will be followed by yet another spurt of my golden juices.” She described the punishment; and addressing her friend she said: “Tell me about your feelings ‘ I see it turns you on a lot!” “I don’t know. It is so naughty; I feel so powerful, so in charge, in control. And it feels so right, somehow: I know I am pleasing you, doing you a favor. And it feels ok to use this boy for it, since he really deserves to be punished, anyways.” Ms. Birch described. “What d’you think; do you want to try this? I mean, we could change places when I’m done and I am pretty sure your bladder has been filling fast?” Ms. Kryokova suggested. “After all, you made me do it and it proved to be the best thing I experienced in a long time.” Ms. Kryokova was convinced this ploy would fail. It was too early for such a suggestion; Ms. Birch still faced too many scruples. But she had to consider just how close to an orgasm her friend was. Maybe’ “Uhm, we have punished him quite a lot today’?” Ms. Birch didn’t really decline outright, Ms. Kryokova observed. “To be honest: I guess I’d enjoy this even if we were not punishing our victim for his misbehavior. This feels so good: I wouldn’t mind torturing him a little more than he deserved.” Ms. Kryokova tried to lead the way. This strategy had worked fine before’ “Really? I mean, we couldn’t just pee on him for our pleasure!” Ms. Birch wondered. “Why? Imagine he would let you do it, maybe because he is too shy to say no? Or if you found out our little boy here were innocent. Would that change anything to you? I definitely wouldn’t think twice and continue!” “You mean, in the current situation? I don’t know?” “Don’t be silly! It’s too late to change now, anyways. Isn’t it? You can’t undo it. And why should we stop now that he drank most of my urine? We could as well add the rest of mine and even some of your piss now. It won’t kill him and we are getting absolutely turned on by it. At least I wouldn’t stop before I experience that giant orgasm that I feel building in my pussy!” “Hm. Looking at it from that perspective’ I am actually really horny now and I don’t really think he’s innocent at all.” “See ‘ I knew you would not object if I would continue. Even if we found out about his innocence right now, you wouldn’t deny me that orgasm. And if you are really honest with yourself, you don’t want to stop it now!” Ms. Birch didn’t reply anything and Ms. Kryokova was careful to let her seed grow. She knew she had killed another sprout of her friend’s conscience; she only needed to let the poison work. I gulped down another couple mouthfuls of Ms. Kryokova’s pee. This lady was amazing ‘ she was completely reckless, even unconscionable, pursuing to do what pleased her most. After all she knew I was innocent. I had listened to their conversation and I admired how she managed to overcome Ms. Birch’s scruples. I enjoyed being her tool, being allowed to lick her pussy and I was looking forward to tasting Ms. Birch’s vulva again. This was my only chance to be so close to a woman and I was grateful for being part of her ploy! This made up for drinking her pee, I thought. Would she convince her friend? Ms. Kryokova timed her orgasm so that it coincided with the last jets of pee she could muster. I felt her pleasure and excitement mount as her spurts came quicker and less controlled until she almost collapsed on top of me whilst I was licking her urethra and she continued to pee incessantly. Even as I was being physically tortured and abused, I felt that I was in control somehow, making her orgasm through my obedience and physical stimulation of her delicious pussy. “I want to see you pee in his mouth now!” she turned to Ms. Birch. “I know you want to do it!” Ms. Birch looked up, surprised. She had been seconds from her second orgasm and it took her a moment to comprehend. “Your turn!” Ms. Kryokova repeated as if it were the most natural thing in the world, smiling at her. Mechanically, Ms. Birch followed her example to change places. She straddled my face, her hairy pussy, her beautifully red pussy lips wet with cum taking Ms. Kryokova’s place. As she hunkered down, memories of my previous licking of her vulva and the ensuing orgasm came to her mind, flooding it with pleasure. This was going to be good! Her neighbor settled down on my lap. Something was different than before, I noticed. Ms. Kryokova was sitting higher up, my penis slipping between her wet inner labia, its glans rubbing against her clitoris. It felt way better than rubbing pubic hair, I discovered. “Just make sure you only release little spurts each time so he has time to swallow!” Ms. Kryokova ordered. “It will be a bit hard at first, but after a while there is nothing better!” Ms. Birch had been interrupted immediately before an orgasm. Her body was tense with apprehension, her excitement at an unbearable level. The complexities of the new task, the unusual situation of having to pee on someone’s face ‘ all this distracted her, but desire and lust did not cede to fire in her neural network. Suddenly, a short but strong squirt burst out of her urethra, hitting my teeth. Her pee tasted stronger, it had a rather bitter scent to it and was a bit stingy in the eyes, where a few splashes landed. Still, I managed to gulp it down and bring my head closer to her vulva to lick it. Her lips tasted really good, covered more in female cum than pee. If she had not been so distracted by the new situation she might have climaxed immediately as I first licked her again. The second spurt was better aimed and measured, but it still tasted somewhat unpleasant. But I didn’t give up, I wanted to feel her pussy and I wanted to satisfy her as much as I had satisfied her ruthless friend. At the third jet she looked down at me. Her face showed pure pleasure and excitement, she was oblivious to anything around her, just focused on nurturing her sexual desire. Ms. Kryokova was rocking at my lap, making me wish this would never end. I would drink Ms. Birch’s bitter piss as long as I had drunk hers if she would keep rocking. “See how fun it is?!” Ms. Kryokova asked. “Oohh! Yes, this feels good!” Ms. Birch was just preparing to release her fourth ration of urine into my open mouth. “I bet you wouldn’t think twice now, even if you found out he is completely innocent. It just feels way too good!” her friend claimed. “Maybe!” was all Ms. Birch uttered. She didn’t like to be reminded of the fact that she was indeed doing something strange, that she was abusing a teenage boy, torturing him, forcing him to drink her pee. She only wanted to experience that long forgone orgasm now! Ms. Kryokova ached to find out: would her neighbor be horny enough to forget about her conscience and continue to pee if she knew the truth? Maybe it was too early’ “Lift your body a bit ‘ I want to see your stream filling our victim’s mouth!” She was deliberately using the word victim to further deaden her accomplice’s qualms. And by making her change positions she made sure her friend didn’t have time to concentrate on coming, postponing her orgasm again. “What a wonderful yellow stream!” she said as Ms. Birch released maybe her seventh mouthful of pee, this time from almost half a meter in the air. I watched curiously how her urethra ‘ now clearly visible since my lips had parted her labia ‘ moved forward and released that acrid fluid I had to drink if I wanted these feelings to last. Ms. Kryokova saw my face and was surprised for a second: There was not only that expression of curiosity and devotion she had seen before but also a certain amount of disgust, hidden pain and begging to stop. She recalled the color of her friend’s stream of piss and felt pleasure waft through her veins: Finally, she had accomplished what she was longing for ‘ they were making me want it to stop, and it was her neighbor’s action that caused it. She was sure she could torture her neighbor’s conscience with this fact for a long time, dwelling in vivid memories many a future tea–time. Ms. Birch was relentlessly emptying her bladder into my mouth, her concentrated pee stinging in my throat. “Have you seen him swallow? Just look at his face, his plea for mercy, his devotion to you and his acceptance of your superiority, of your right to punish him! This must be his way of saying sorry’” Ms. Kryokova wanted that her friend sucked in memories of this facial expression of their victim. She wanted these memories to haunt her day and night, to weigh heavily on her conscience, so everything else they had done would look ridiculously harmless. Ms. Kryokova knew that at the same time not only qualms but the memory of endless pleasure, of desire and lust would return and these feelings would ultimately prevail the pangs of conscience; making Ms. Birch a perfect tool and accomplice for her twisted sexual fantasies. And Ms. Birch looked down at my face, not only for a moment, but for the time of her next three spurts of piss. She was rationing her pee now, for fear of running out of stock before she had climaxed. “I see what you mean ‘ this expression simply turns me on!” Ms. Birch said. “I’m so horny now; I wish this could go on forever!” Ms. Kryokova knew it probably was not true that her neighbor was turned on by that expression in my face ‘ even if she herself felt incredibly aroused by it ‘ but that it was more probably a misconception of her brain connecting the feelings flooding her body with whatever she was looking at. Exactly as she had intended! Her mischievous ideas were working better than she had dared to hope! It was time to tell the truth: “I told you so ‘ now you wouldn’t care if your victim were innocent. You just want to continue. And d’you know what? This turns me on; it really makes me hot to know you are ruthlessly abusing this little teen to maximize your pleasure!” She had changed to “your victim” now, unloading the whole responsibility with her neighbor. “So you are turned on by what you see?” Ms. Birch asked, completely ignoring the rest of the statement. “Oh yeah! Especially since I know your victim definitely is innocent!” She teased. “This knowledge adds additional spice to watching you.” “What do you mean: innocent?” Ms. Birch indignantly asked, “That little brat has littered in my yard, made me pee my panties and then finally and worst of all peed his pants while you were sitting on his lap. Are you calling that innocent? It definitely needs to be punished!” “Look at it this way:” her mischievous neighbor proposed. “For littering he has been punished by putting the garbage in the right bin. It is not really his fault that you peed your pants, right? Yet he had to clean everything. So that has been compensated for as well. And finally, he never peed his pants. Instead, I couldn’t hold it any longer as we went down to get his socks. Remember how desperate I had been? I sat on his lap and emptied my bladder on him, falsely blaming him to avoid humiliating myself in front of you. For this, which was not his fault, he was immediately punished by us. Now tell me ‘ isn’t he innocent?” This came as a shock to Ms. Birch. Yes, the argument was right. So her qualms had been right all the time and she had falsely given into her sexual desires? But she didn’t want to pore over these thoughts and their implications just now. She was trembling with lust and it excited her to torture her sex slave. He was drinking her pee, wasn’t he? So what was wrong with it? She looked into my face, which was pretty much unchanged. Her pee was really burning in my throat, even my eyes and nose were sore due to some stray splashes. But at the same time it felt wonderful how Ms. Kryokova was rubbing herself against me and I knew she would stop if Ms. Birch stopped. I feared she only enjoyed rubbing herself like this because she enjoyed how Ms. Birch was torturing me, following her manipulations. So I continued to lick her pussy and obediently opened my mouth for her hot piss to fill it. She looked at my face and burned that expression to her brain. This was what made her feel so excited, she was convinced. And she wouldn’t stop it just because her friend was teasing her with a made–up story. “As you put it, he might well be innocent. Yet I don’t believe you, it’s just a story you made up to make me stop.” Ms. Birch replied, moaning after a short pause as I was licking her pussy: “And by the way: I simply don’t care!” “This is what I want to hear!” Ms. Kryokova said. “But just give him a break and let him confirm the truth of my words: I peed on him and not vice versa!” “If you really insist ‘ why not!” Turning to me she asked: “So, is it true that you never peed your pants and that Ms. Kryokova made it all up?” I nodded as she looked down. “Don’t nod ‘ say it aloud!” she commanded. “Yes, Ma’am, it is true ‘ Ms. Kryokova peed on my lap. I didn’t ever pee in your house!” I replied shyly. “Why didn’t you tell it, then?” she inquired. “Dunno’” I stammered. “Probably hoped to see my pussy!” Ms. Kryokova sneered derisively. “Tough luck for you then!” Ms. Birch let me know. “I am not going to let you go now ‘ you should have spoken out when there was time!” Seized by a sudden inspiration, she added: “Now open your mouth for another portion of my pee ‘ you can take it as punishment for not being honest if you like!” And really: she moved closer again. I felt her urethra push forward along my tongue licking her pussy and a hot jet of ever more concentrated pee filled my mouth. I had hoped the torture was over now ‘ but somehow I did not regret it to continue, either. “Wow, this is how I like you!” Ms. Kryokova lauded her friend– she was surprised how eager she was. “Admit how it turns you on to know that he is innocent!” Ms. Birch had not felt that way, but again the brain’s mechanism worked as her manipulative friend had intended. She tried to focus on it, on how she supposedly liked it to torture an innocent victim. And as she was finally approaching the best orgasm in her life she answered: “Yes, it turns me on to look at his face, to see his look pleading to stop, his plea for mercy, his desire to please and his absolute obedience, his acceptance of my right to punish him for whatever reason. I would pee in his mouth for no reason at all, just to see this expression!” she enthusiastically described what was racing through her brain. “I was so turned on when you told me to pee in his mouth all the while I knew he was innocent ‘ I just had to share this experience with you!” Ms. Kryokova stated. “It makes me come again, seeing how you enjoy torturing your victim, repeating his humiliation with every drop. He will be our sex slave because you made him to be!” Ms. Birch pressed hard to flood my mouth with another shot of pee. And suddenly, she began shacking all over her body, finally collapsing onto me with the most intense orgasm she had known. She was proud she had turned me into their sex slave as her friend was suggesting. Ms. Kryokova rubbed herself to orgasm as she saw this. All of us needed several minutes to recover ‘ and then something happened, surprising Ms. Kryokova and me: Ms. Birch asked Ms. Kryokova to pee on my face again; she wanted to see it in the light of the knowledge of my innocence. Ms. Kryokova straddled me with a bright shine in her eyes. This was better than she ever dreamt of. No one bothered to ask whether I would like it or not. She just squatted and commanded: “Open your mouth, it’s my turn again!” Ms. Birch sat on my lap again, this time taking better advantage of my penis which wasn’t erect any more ‘ it had been too much. Rubbing herself against my soft, shrunken penis, she commented: “So this isn’t turning you on anymore, huh? Now it’s time to feel the real punishment, little boy!” She was talking herself into the belief that torturing me was what really turned her on. “That’s for taking advantage of us!” She was really angry at me and relished the thought of abusing me: She began to suspect I had rather enjoyed what had been intended as punishment for my supposed wrongdoings. As I tasted the first gulp of Ms. Kryokova’s pee I had to realize that it didn’t taste any better than Ms. Birch’s piss had tasted. The long time since their last drink had caused their renal activity to concentrate the urine more than before. Ms. Kryokova was watching my face and saw my disappointment. “Isn’t tasting well enough anymore, huh?” she asked mockingly. “Can’t have everything, I fear!” The two ladies went on teasing like this, Ms. Kryokova leaving plenty of time between her spurts to make me really taste each mouthful. “Maybe he wants to gargle it a bit?” Ms. Birch asked viciously. “I fear your pee won’t last long enough if it is wasted by just gulping it down!” Ms Kryokova was flabbergasted: so her friend was kinky enough to torture their victim even more just for her pleasure? She would certainly fulfill that wish as best as she could! So I had to gargle the strong pee which filled my mouth to allow my two mistresses enough time to recover from their orgasms and rebuild that sexual charge they hoped on unload in yet another great climax. Ms. Kryokova made me gargle each mouthful for as long as it would last, until after a minute or two the last drop would find its way into my throat under the watchful eyes of her neighbor. An equally long pause followed when I had to lick her pussy, and the procedure was repeated. “It turns me on to know he is not aroused by this anymore!” Ms. Birch stated. “His dick is soft as can be, and still I am using it to rub my clit. After that strong orgasm, his soft dick is exactly the right stimulation for me; I wouldn’t want it to be hard right now. And you are abusing him as your personal toilet at the same time, making him savor every drop to the fullest. If you continue like this for another ten minutes, I shall climax again!” “It turns me on to know you like it!” Ms. Kryokova replied. “I will ration my pee to last for a quarter of an hour if you like ‘ but there won’t be more than seven small mouthfuls left.” And really, I spent the next ten, fifteen minutes gargling pee, licking pussy, gargling pee. Until Ms. Birch came again on my lap and Ms. Kryokova finally emptied the rest of her bladder in my mouth, making me hold it there until she came, rubbing her clit against my nose.’ Alpian (alpian [at] live [dot]

My Bladder Desperation - I'm in a taxi holding my pee!

 

 

 

 

It was a very spur of the moment thing and I had no time to plan for the trip, so there wasn't anything I could do about the fact that the rather salty bacon I'd had for breakfast had led to my drinking almost 6 cans of diet cola as well as my usual "can't do without" 3 or 4 mugs of tea, which, had I known I'd be going on this journey, I most certainly would NOT have drank.
But I had no time to worry about that, I had to leave right away!
I got in cab and I soon found out the driver's name was Dave. He wasn't bad looking I suppose, mid 40s, he was the chatty type but I wasn't in the mood for conversation and I guess with my irritated and rather abrupt 'yes' and 'no' answers, he got the message and continued the drive in silence.

I sensed he thought I was rude, but I didn't care. About half an hour into the journey I began to feel a slight desperation, the need to pee, but I was too shy to say anything, especially with the way I'd been so abrupt with him earlier, so I had no choice but to sit and hold my bladder and hope it wouldn't get worse.
I was wearing tight black jeans because I had had no time to change into something more comfortable, but during the next half hour my need rapidly increased at an alarming rate and I really, really needed to pee badly now.
Well, I'm not a driver, but I know enough to know its illegal to pull over on a motorway, I tried not to fidget but I couldn't help it, I was desperate for a pee. Dave noticed my anxiety and asked if I was all right, not wanting to confide in him I said, "yes, I'm fine thankyou." Although in reality I was anything but all right, my desperation was rapidly getting so intense and I was frantic with worry, the last thing I wanted to do was to show myself up in front of a stranger whom I didn't like very much and whom I'd be confined in the car with for the next couple of hours! That would be uncomfortably embarrassing. But my bladder was now bursting, my desperation was so intense that it was either say something to him, or he'd see something on the floor of his car before too long - of that I was in no doubt.

I sobbed as another strong wave overcame me and I had to hold my breath to regain control

"Is there anywhere on this motorway we can stop for a few minutes?" I asked, trying to sound as casual as I could.
"Why, what's up?" he replied, irritated.
As much as I wanted to, I just couldn't admit it, I just couldn't.
"I want to buy a magazine to read." I replied, trying so hard to hide the frantic desperation I was feeling.
"Well OK then," he replied, "I could do with a coffee, there's a service station about 60 miles ahead."
60 miles! I felt both a mixture of relief and anxiety, relief that we would be stopping before Nottingham, but I knew I couldn't hold on for another 60 miles, no way.
I was almost in tears with worry, the waves of intense desperation were getting too much and I could no longer act normal, I was having to hold myself and fidget. I couldn't sit straight on the seat, I no longer cared if he noticed or not, I was way past caring, all I was concerned about was desperately trying very hard not to wet myself.
"Now what's up?" he asked again, "do you need to go to the toilet?"
"Yes, I'm sorry," I whimpered, "but I'm really desperate."
"Well just hang on," he said crossly, "the service station is only about another 40 miles up the road."
"I don't think I can, I'm sorry." I sobbed as another strong wave overcame me and I had to hold my breath to regain control.
"Well you'd better!" he snapped, "I'm tired of having to have my car seats cleaned because you girls have got no self control."
I found that by sitting right on the edge of the car seat and undoing my jeans, it gave me a slightly better hold, I was able to hold my crotch firmly with both hands and cross my legs at the same time, and as long as I kept intense concentration and not take any deep breaths I knew I had some chance of making it --- but it was only that - a chance. I kept it up for 10 minutes but then I felt an urge I couldn't control, I knew I was losing it when I felt quite a long spurt of pee escape through my tightly clenched hands, it was enough to drip onto the floor, fortunately Dave didn't notice and I held tighter, but when it happened again after a few moments, I knew I'd lost the battle.

"Ooohhh no! NO!! I'm sorry, oohh no! I can't hold it any longer!"
I cried as the drips turned to a stream and slowly but steadily, a large puddle appeared at my feet, as every last drop from my bladder seeped through my panties and jeans.
The relief of an empty bladder was indescribable, Dave just looked annoyed, he slowed his driving down and when we eventually got to the service station he slammed the door and said, "I'm going for a coffee, you get yourself cleaned up, I'll give you 20 minutes then we're on our way again."

The situation had turned me on so much that I went into the restroom and rubbed myself to a wonderful climax. The I cleaned up my pee as best I could. The rest of the journey was completed in silence, I guess he was really mad with me. I really hope you enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed writing it. Debra xx

Training the Secretary

 

 

 

 

 

Everyone in this fictional story is over 18 and consenting. Play safe, people.

*****

Chapter One

Katie Parsons stared glumly at her screen as she agonised over her next move. Jobs in general were in short supply. Jobs in a little village like hers were like pots of gold at the end of elusive rainbows. Despite this, three days in and she seemed to be intent on losing the one that she had!

Not that it was that great a job, but when she'd seen the ad for a junior secretary at the local legal firm of Overbrook, Thewliss and Kneeshaw she'd been so relieved. The pay was average at best, but it was a small village and she'd finished college barely two weeks earlier, having (just) passed a secretarial diploma.

So, taking her mother's advice and making the best of what she had, she'd pulled on some black, seamed stockings, a tight black skirt that hugged her slender legs to mid thigh and a smart but fitted white blouse that clung to her surprisingly large boobs. Pulling her thick, chestnut hair into a ponytail and applying simple make up, she put on her glasses and looked in the mirror - yes, she looked every inch a male fantasy of a teenaged secretary. Surely the old men she expected at O, T and K would give her the job?

The interview with Mr Thewliss had gone poorly. Katie was eagerly flustered, and he fired questions at her rapidly. She stammered her way through, answering as best she could, but she was a nervous wreck by the end of the hour, and cried her way home on the bus. She knew that this job was the only one she was likely to get and her parents had made clear that she was not living at home for free, so if this fell through she was out on her ear.

However, her mum was waiting by the door - the firm had called and invited her back for a second interview. She was shocked, but delighted, and for the second interview she applied a little more lipstick and undid an extra button on her blouse, showing an inch or two more cleavage than anyone would consider professional.

She walked into the interview feeling more confident, but Mr Overbrook soon knocked that out of her as he was even more stern than his colleague. Not only firing questions at her about her qualifications, but belittling her experience and knowledge. It felt more like a dressing down than an interview, and she could feel her eyes welling with tears, but she sat still, silently, meekly accepting Mr Overbrook's condescension until he declared he'd heard enough (ironic as she'd barely spoken) and told her to wait for a moment whilst he consulted with a colleague.

Katie stared at her hands in her lap as she waited. She felt chastised, not interviewed, but just as she'd always done at home, at school and at college, she'd just submissively accepted this treatment. She never liked to cause a fuss and had often taken the blame for things she'd not even done. She was pondering where else she could apply for a role when the door opened and a slender, middle-aged woman with bobbed, blonde hair walked in and regarded her imperiously.

"Katie Parsons?" Realising it was a question, Katie nodded. "Vanessa Kneeshaw. Simon and Adrian seem to think you're the girl for the job and I trust their judgement when it comes to hiring staff. You know the wage on offer, I assume you know the hours?" Katie was rattled, but was aware that she appeared to be being offered the job. Again she nodded. "You are able to speak, I assume?" said Ms Kneeshaw, curtly, but continued before Katie could part her lips. "The probation period is a fortnight. If at any stage we feel your performance is unacceptable in that time, we'll consider disciplinary measures that are appropriate, including, obviously, termination of your employment. Sign here."

Katie took the contract that was suddenly thrust at her. From feeling ready to collapse in tears when Mr Overbrook had left the office, she was now ready to sing a song! She had the job. She hastily scrawled her name at the bottom, not reading a single word of the contract in her excitement, nor noticing the cruel, half-smile that flickered across Ms Kneeshaw's face. Her pretty face was grinning from ear to ear as she left the office.

But now, three short days later, she was sure she was soon to be fired. The first day, Wednesday, had been ok. The three partners had shown her to her desk, explained her duties - mainly filing, taking calls and assorted errands - and then told her to get started as they had client meetings. To say the induction was cursory was doing it a favour, but Katie wasn't afraid of hard work and reasoned that she'd figure things out as she went.

Things had started going wrong on Thursday, as things she'd apparently misfiled and jobs that she hadn't even known needed doing were remarked on with increasing irritation by the partners. She was certain she hadn't misfiled anything, but as was her way she'd apologised for the error in a meek voice. And now, at the end of her first half-week, she was awaiting the sack. Mr Thewliss had asked her for a file that she'd never even heard of, then whilst he was raving about how important it was and that she'd better not have lost it Mr Overbrook had accused her of failing to inform him about an important call.

She stammered that she'd not missed any calls as she'd skipped lunch to man her desk when the partners all left for the local restaurant and hadn't even gone to the toilet yet to ensure she missed nothing. At that he started raving too, calling her an impertinent liar. She was shocked, but retreated into her shell, apologising for her "mistake" instead of defending herself. Throwing his hands up in disgust he declared "Vanessa can deal with you, then!" and slammed back into his office.

"Parsons!" The intercom on her desk startled Katie, who jerked upright in her seat. Realising it was a summons, probably a final summons, she gathered herself as best she could and timidly walked into Ms Kneeshaw's office, gnawing nervously on her soft, bottom lip. She knew she should defend herself, argue her case, explain that there had been no call, no lost file, but she simply stood in front of the desk, head lowered, sniffing quietly. She could feel the woman's eyes staring at her.

Ms Kneeshaw inhaled deeply, then began to speak in a clipped, no-nonsense tone. "Day one was broadly acceptable, although I find that dressing like a cheap tart is not appropriate. However, I've been outvoted on that issue so your clothes can stay as they are. Day two...well, it started to go down hill. It was clear from the mess you made of Adrian's files that you were hopeless, so today's fiasco should not have come as a surprise. You understand that your performance has been intolerable?"

The only response Katie could offer was to start sobbing. The injustice rankled, but she lacked the force of will to argue her case. All three of the partners were so overbearing and her submissive manner could not stand up to them. "I'm sorry, Ms Kneeshaw," she choked. "I really needed this job...I'm sorry..."

"Goodness, girl. Stop crying. I'm not firing you on your third day." Surprised, Katie looked up, her pale, blue eyes shining with hope and tears. Ms Kneeshaw continued: "No, dismissal is the final stage of the disciplinary process as it is laid out in your contract. We're at stage one. Now, bend over my desk."

Ms Kneeshaw made this ridiculous request in the same matter-of-fact way she might have asked for a stapler. Katie simply stood still, staring at her blankly as the older lady stood and walked around to the front of the desk. "Come along, girl. Don't tell me that you didn't read your contract? It quite clearly states that 'any partner that determines failure on your part to complete your role can impose penalties in the form of spanking discipline' - though of course that is only stage one. Now bend over before you find yourself at stage two!"

Katie felt like she was having an out of body experience. On the one hand, she was delighted that she was not about to lose her job. But on the other, did Ms Kneeshaw seriously expect her to bend over the desk and submit to a spanking? She wasn't a schoolgirl! She was 18-years old and in a professional office. Katie was meek, not naive - she knew that some adults liked spanking. But not at work. This was ridiculous. She should say something!

But she didn't say anything. Instead she stepped forward and slowly, deliberately, bent forward across Ms Kneeshaw's desk. She gasped as she felt hands on her bottom, briskly pulling her tight skirt up around her hips to expose her stockings, suspenders and black, lacy knickers. She gasped again as her knickers were yanked down around her thighs, knowing that from this angle her pussy was exposed to the older woman's view, never mind her creamy, white bottom.

"Always on the bare, as per your contract," said Ms Kneeshaw.

Without further ado, Katie felt a sharp smack across her right cheek, followed seconds later by another on her left. This was no playful, erotic spanking of the type Katie had read about in erotic romance novels. This was a discipline spanking. Ms Kneeshaw landed one hard spank after another, barely a second between each blow, covering the whole of Katie's bottom from the top of the soft cheeks to the tender undertake at the top of her thighs. The stinging blows, one after another, became more painful as a cumulative effect of the spanking, and she wriggled involuntarily. This brought a sharp "Stay still, girl!" and a particularly painful slap across her thighs.

Katie realised that the spanking would be audible in the office, so both Mr Overbrook and Mr Thewliss would know how Ms Kneeshaw was punishing her. This was humiliating but, also, somewhere, it was...exciting? Another hard spank across her now red bottom drove that thought away and made her cry out. Thankfully, that seemed to be that.

"Right, get up, Parsons." She did, wiping tears off her face and awkwardly pulling her knickers back up over her sore bottom. "Now you can go apologise to my colleagues for your poor performance, then get yourself off. Home, I mean. And I expect better on Monday." Ms Kneeshaw sat down and turned her attention to the papers on her desk. Feeling ridiculous, Katie slowly backed out of the office, rearranging her clothing as she went.

Overbrook and Thewliss were waiting for her by her desk, both sneering lecherously. Surprised, embarrassed and upset, Katie swallowed what little pride she had and said "I'm sorry I lost the file and missed the call. I'll do better next week."

"You'd better. Lose another of my files and I'll take my belt to your behind, Miss Parsons!" snapped Thewliss. Overbrook looked more reflective.

"Now now, Adrian. It's not all about spanking that lovely bottom. Katie needs to be able to sit down whilst she learns not to miss calls - and you'll learn that on Monday!" he finished, sternly.

Twenty minutes later, Katie sat alone in her bedroom, her feelings a maelstrom. She was old enough to know she should be appalled at what had happened. Her bottom was stinging and still warm to the touch. She'd now read her contract and it looked like the work of a pervert, not a firm of solicitors. The list of penalties was detailed and preposterous. But, as she read it again, her fingers slipped inside the front of her knickers and she started to touch herself, slowly slipping a couple of fingers into her tight, hot pussy. She read the list of penalties through again, imagining having to endure them as she rubbed at her pussy and pressed her smarting cheeks against her bed, reminding herself of the spanking she'd been given as she shuddered and had the best orgasm of her life. Oh my god, she thought to herself. I actually want it to be Monday tomorrow!

Chapter Two

The weekend passed quickly, and Katie barely left her room. She'd always been bookish and insular so her parents were not surprised that they hardly saw her. However, had they realised that she'd spent most of her waking hours on her iPad looking at spanking pictures and reading spanking stories and wanking almost non-stop, they'd have been shocked! She was not sure what had gotten into her. Regardless of what her contract may have stipulated, the way that she had been spoken to and treated at O, T & K was clearly ridiculous and she knew enough to know that her case for constructive dismissal was strong - they'd basically assaulted her.

But she also knew how her body felt. The sore, sting in her bottom had been an obscure turn on, and the way all three of the partners had cruelly bossed her around had also excited her for some reason. Judging from the stories she found online, she was not the only woman on the planet to enjoy being submissive and being spanked, but it felt like a dirty secret that she had nobody to tell.

Consequently, as she walked to the office on Monday in a grey pencil skirt, smart but revealing black blouse and seamed stockings, she was actually hoping to get spanked again. Mr Thewliss had even suggested whipping her with his belt! That would surely be dreadfully painful - so why was she shivering in anticipation with erect, needy nipples?

When she arrived, only Mr Overbrook was in the office. He nodded a greeting, but otherwise ignored her as she made herself a cup of tea and went to sit down. At her desk, she was nonplussed to find her normal office chair had vanished, to be replaced by a simple, slightly concave, orange plastic chair of the kind you find stacked in school halls. Looking around, Katie couldn't see her chair anywhere, and Mr Overbrook glared at her when she started in his direction, so with a shrug she sat down and fired up her PC.

An hour later, neither Thewliss nor Kneeshaw had arrived, and Katie had passed the time at her desk typing up some case notes that had been left in her In tray. Nature having taken its course, the orange juice and coffee she'd had at home over breakfast and the tea she'd made at work were now demanding she pop to the toilet, but as she stood up, Mr Overbrook suddenly appeared before her desk.

"Going somewhere, Miss Parsons?" Katie blushed.

"I was just going to the ladies, Mr Overbrook."

" I see," he replied. Katie nodded and took a step away from her desk.

"And who will answer the phone while you are away?" Katie hesitated as she looked at his implacable face. "No answer? That's because the answer is nobody, isn't it?"

"But, the phone hasn't gone all morning - I'll only be a second."

He scowled now, an angry look crossing his face. "You will sit DOWN!" he suddenly bellowed. Katie jumped in shock, but obeyed, quickly resuming her seat in the plastic chair. "Thank you. Now, if you recall, we discussed this on Friday after Vanessa had finished spanking your bottom for you. Missing calls is unacceptable. You will sit there and ensure no calls are missed. Do not dare leave your post. Is that clear?"

Katie was unsure what to do. She really needed to go to the toilet. On the other hand, her pussy was hot and wet as a result of him telling her off, and defying him would probably get her the spanking she craved. On the other hand, if she waited a bit longer and then broke a rule, maybe Mr Thewliss would have arrived and she would find out if he really meant to whip her. Meekly, she decided to do as she was told for now, and nodded her understanding to Mr Overbrook.

"Good. But just so we understand each other, Parsons, if you think you'll get away with misbehaving when I am around and just getting a little smack like you got from Vanessa, think again. Cross me and you're out of here!" With that, he returned to his office, although he left the door open so he could watch her.

Katie was distraught. Although the list of punishments and humiliations in her contract had been the source of much of her masturbating over the weekend, there had indeed been sections saying any partner could fire her at any point for misconduct. She wanted to be spanked again - but not fired! But she really needed the loo - the nervous fluttering in her stomach when Mr Overbrook had been berating her had been replaced by a persistent ache as her swollen bladder demanded release.

Over the course of the next half hour, Katie wriggled and wiggled and shifted around in the chair. Her pencil skirt was tight around her thighs, so crossing her legs was difficult, but her thighs were squeezed tightly together. A look intense concentration was on her pretty face, and she had the heel of one hand jammed into her crotch. But she knew she was in a hopeless situation. It was not even 11am and he'd told her she could not leave her desk. That meant over six hours! She simultaneously realised that she had no chance of making it through the day without wetting herself at her desk, and that this was exactly what Mr Overbrook had intended. And this plastic chair meant that she'd be sitting in her own puddle, soon enough.

Katie's bulging bladder was painful and her face was scarlet as she sat blushing, eyes wet with tears of embarrassment as the need to piss hit her in increasing pulses. The pain was nearly overwhelming and there was nothing she could do. Either she was going to get fired or she was going to wet herself like a little girl. It was so unfair! And humiliating - she didn't believe that she ever had missed a call, and now this was her treatment. And what about when Thewliss and Kneeshaw arrived? How might they react to discovering their new secretary sitting in a pool of her own piss?

This thought briefly distracted Katie from the stabbing ache in her bladder. Surely wetting yourself in the office was unacceptable conduct? Maybe this could get her the spanking she'd been fantasising about all weekend? It would be awful and embarrassing to sit here and piss herself, but maybe it would pay off later. Even through her horror and discomfort, she knew that the idea was starting to excite her. She'd never realised that she was such a pervert!

BANG! "Stop daydreaming, girl!" Mr Overbrook had appeared from nowhere, and slammed his hand down on her desk as he shouted at her. Jolted rudely from her reverie, the sudden shock had a predictable effect. Katie yelped and thrust both hands into her crotch but it was too late. She felt a strong, spurt of piss jet into her knickers, soaking the cotton and trickling ticklishly between her bottom cheeks. She tried to stop, squeezing and rubbing her thighs together, pressing with both hands, but it was no good and with a hiss that was audible to Mr Overbrook, she sat in front of him and pissed herself.

Her warm, pale yellow pee gushed out of her, soaking her knickers and, as she had her hands pushed into her crotch, wetting the front of her skirt. It squirted between her legs, wetting the tops of her stockings but, thanks to the plastic chair she was in, most of it ran between her thighs and collected into a puddle under her bottom. The piss soaked quickly up the back of her knickers, all the way to the waistband, and the back of her grey skirt was very obviously wet too, dripping wet from side to side as she sat, red-faced, in the warm puddle.

There was so much piss that the puddle spilled over the front of the chair, dripping and splashing over the back of her calves and into a pool on the floor between her feet. Finally, the stream died off. Katie didn't even try to stand up or explain herself. She simply sat, head down, in front of Mr Overbrook and let him gaze upon her - the pretty, teenaged secretary who'd just wet herself in the office and was now meekly sitting in a puddle of her own piss.

"Morning, Simon. What's going on here?" Mr Thewliss' voice sounded jovial.

"Morning, Adrian. Good weekend?" Overbrook walked out of Katie's field of vision as he continued to talk. "The new girl just pissed herself at her desk. Can't even hold it like a grown up. I hope we've no clients coming in today."

 

"Good lord. I didn't realise that the training she needed would include toilet training. Let's talk about this when Vanessa gets in." Both men laughed as they walked into Mr Thewliss' office and closed the door, leaving Katie alone and unobserved.

She shifted in her seat, the motion causing more of her piss to slop off the chair and patter to the floor. The initial warmth was cooling rapidly, and she was now more acutely aware that she was sitting in soggy knickers, a visibly wet skirt and that she was starting to smell like a toilet. She knew she was not allowed to leave her desk, but she needed to do something about the pool in her chair, so half standing, she tipped it forward to empty the puddle of piss onto the floor. Some more of it splashed across her legs, but by this point it made no difference, and when she sat back down at least she was no longer in a puddle of pee.

When Kneeshaw arrived an hour later, Katie was thoroughly miserable. Her clothes had mostly dried off although they were still damp and there was a visible dark patch on the front and back of her skirt. She didn't smell too bad, but she was horribly ashamed and there was still a pool between her feet. Ms Kneeshaw glared at Katie by way of greeting, shook her head in obvious distaste and joined the men in their office, leaving Katie alone, glumly at her desk.

It was close to two hours later when she heard the door open and the partners emerged. The two men set off straight out of the door, but Ms Kneeshaw approached Katie.

"Parsons," she started, coldly. "We're going to lunch. You need to stay here and cover any calls. Of course, we can't expect you not to get any lunch, so here, you can eat at your desk." So saying, she put a lunch bag down on the desk and walked away.

Katie had simply sat and stared, not responding at all to this instruction, but she opened the bag when she was again by herself. Her lunch consisted of a piece of cheddar, a packet of crackers, a cake-bar and a litre bottle of iced tea. She didn't want to drink anything, given she was already sitting in pee-dampened clothes. Sighing, she started to eat the food. It only took a handful of bites for her to realise how cruel the food was - the cheese, the crackers and especially the cake were all very dry, and she had no choice but to gulp down some of the tea. This was so unfair! But, despite the fact that she was alone in the office, she did as she'd been told. She drank all the tea and stayed sitting at her desk.

The outcome was predictable, and Katie thought about it repeatedly as she sat, staring at the never-ringing phone. There were several hours left in the day. She'd drunk a litre of tea. She would definitely need to pee before the end of her shift and she was almost certain she'd be denied access to the toilet, meaning she'd have to sit at her desk and wet herself for a second time. Why the hell didn't she move? Or quit and go home? She'd been insulted, humiliated, spanked on her bare bottom and now spent her morning sitting at her desk in clothes she'd been forced to piss in, and yet, instead of quitting, she was horny. Her feelings confused her, but she couldn't deny them. She wriggled in her chair, embarrassed at being turned on, despite being on her own.

Her bladder had already started to fill, but something made her decide that she should wait. Wait until she was desperate. Wait until the partners returned...so that they could watch. Where had that thought come from? She blushed furiously, but her nipples felt swollen and her pussy was wet. She wanted them here. Wanted them to see her disgrace herself again. And wanted to be punished for being such a bad girl. She shifted in her seat again, pulling her skirt up her thighs so that she could more easily slip a hand between her legs, stroking herself through her peed-in knickers. What if they caught her touching herself at work? She'd probably get spanked - and that was fine too.

Katie stroked and rubbed herself persistently for a short while, bringing herself to the edge of cumming, but enjoying teasing herself and feeling the increasing need in her bladder. She was still doing that when she heard Thewliss' voice and hastily straightened her skirt so she looked presentable when the three partners walked back into the office. Other than checking there had been no calls, they ignored her and went into their separate offices.

An hour later, Katie was once again desperate. Flexing and squeezing her thighs, pressing her hand into her crotch and chewing on her lip as she was almost doubled over in the plastic chair. She'd known this was going to happen but now that she was here, for the second time today, she was embarrassed and appalled all over again. She was nearly 19 for goodness' sake. Surely she wasn't going to piss herself twice in one day? But she was. She knew she was. And it was easier this time.

With a gasp, she suddenly gave up holding and she embraced the now familiar feeling of her bladder emptying into her knickers, the warm, wet rivulets running between her thighs, over her bottom and down the backs of her legs. Once again, her skirt and stockings were visibly drenched, and her already stained knickers were again sodden as she sat at her desk and wet herself. With a jolt, she looked up from staring at the spreading wet patch in her lap, and realised that the partners had all emerged from their offices and were regarding her, cruelly.

"You seem to have had another accident," smirked Overbrook. Katie looked down, ashamed, but that simply meant looking back at her wet crotch and the spreading puddle between her feet.

"Never mind, dear. I'm sure you'll get better at controlling yourself," offered Thewliss. Frowning at her colleagues, Ms Kneeshaw gave Katie a withering look, but her tone was almost friendly.

"Well, I have some good news for you, Parsons. We've discussed your first few days over lunch, and the fact that you appear to have accepted the way we operate has been taken into consideration. So here's the news."

The older woman counted off the items on her fingers. "First, although you may have expected to be punished for disgracing yourself at your desk, we've decided instead that you can go early today. In two minutes, in fact, without punishment. Although, I believe you walk to work? So I suppose walking back across town with your skirt in that state might be a little embarrassing?" The glint in her eyes told Katie that this was in fact a punishment, not a reward. How many people she knew would see her walking home with a freshly pissed-in skirt, pee still trickling down her legs into her squelching shoes.

Ms Kneeshaw smiled slightly as she continued: "Second, as soon as you prove you can get through a whole day without behaving like a little girl, you'll be allowed to leave your desk at reasonable intervals to use the bathroom. But you need to prove you can control yourself like an adult. Until then, the plastic chair stays. And finally, tomorrow morning there will be a final test. If you pass that, we'll deem that you've completed your probation. That will bring a pay rise and possibly some extra duties. That's it, see you in the morning."

Alone again, Katie stood up, glancing at the puddle of piss left in her chair. She shivered as the cool pee ran in little streams down her shapely legs, leaving wet tracks on her stockings. The front and back of her skirt were dark and wet, in a way that surely only came about if you'd pissed yourself whilst sitting down. Anyone who saw her walking home would know what she'd done. Her knickers were probably yellow under her skirt. And she was horny again! Allowing herself the tiniest grin, she picked up her bag and set off home.

Chapter Three

Despite the humiliations of Monday, Katie at no stage considered not going in to work on Tuesday. In fact, she was out of bed early to shower and choose her clothes - this time a pale, ivory blouse that as usual clung to her full breasts, and her usual, dainty, white bra and knickers. It was a hot day, so she decided to not wear her stockings, and this allowed a shorter than usual navy skirt that was tight across her bottom but flared slightly around her thighs. Finishing her second coffee of the morning, she set off for the office, walking across town with a spring in her step that suggested she was on her way to the park, rather than to eight hours of indignity.

She was first to arrive, and looked nervously but excited at her desk, with the plastic school chair positioned over a faint stain on the carpet. Sitting down, she switched on her computer. As she checked her mail, she realised one odd thing about her job - she actually had almost nothing to do. The phone never rang, there was little post and not really enough filing to warrant a full time secretary. She figured the partners just didn't want to do the work themselves. Still, it was odd.

The partners arrived together shortly after 9am and ignored her, heading into the conference room. She was squirming uncomfortably, the inevitable result of choosing to drink coffee when she knew full well that she'd not be allowed to access the toilets, and wondered if they intended to ignore her all day. She'd been expecting some sort of appraisal, and sort of wanted an audience if she was going to wet her pants at her desk for a third time. She was just wondering if she should give up holding it, when the intercom buzzed and Mr Overbrook summoned her into the room. Timid but excited, she straightened her short skirt, tucked her blouse in snugly to accentuate the swell of her breasts and went in to see the partners for her probation assessment.

The three sat behind a stout, oak table. There was no chair, so Katie stood in front of them, eyes downcast. Mr Overbrook spoke first.

"Now then, Miss Parsons. You have worked for the firm for what, a week now? You may have noticed some odd elements in that time, yes?"

Katie felt very intimidated by the way the three stared at her, and suddenly having an audience when she was about to wet herself did not feel like a good thing. Nervously, she offered "Well, yes. I mean, umm, the phone never seems to ring."

"Ha! Yes, there is that. I was more meaning the disciplinary situation."

"Oh, well, yes, Sir. I mean, that is odd, I guess. This is my first job, though, and Ms Kneeshaw showed me my contract..." she trailed off.

"Tell you what, Simon," interrupted Mr Thewliss. "Let's continue this part of the assessment in a while." As he was saying this he stood up and walked around the desk to stand beside Katie. He paused for a second, then, as the other two nodded their agreement, he suddenly shoved Katie forward so her thighs bumped against the edge of the table, then pressed her down so her chest and face were squashed against the surface, back arched, bottom high. He flipped her skirt up, revealing her soft, white bottom in her plain knickers. "Full assessment, then," he declared, and brought his hand down to deliver a stinging slap across Katie's cheeks. She yelped, but made no attempt to stop what was about to happen.

"So, Parsons, this spanking is not for any particular failing on your part," explained Ms Kneeshaw, as if she was explaining a simple policy change or PowerPoint slide, rather than talking to a teenager who was being spanked in the conference room. "We need to verify you're the girl for this job. You're shaping up well so far, but if you're to get a permanent position, we have to be sure."

All the time the imperious blonde was talking, Mr Thewliss was smacking Katie's bottom, enjoying the way her full cheeks flattened under the hard impact then sprang back into place, a rosy pink blush spreading across them. Katie was gasping and wincing, but the pain was no worse than when Ms Kneeshaw had spanked her on Friday. Thewlis delivered a particularly resounding slap, which jolted her bulging bladder uncomfortably against the table, then said "She certainly knows how to take a light spanking, so cross that off the list. Now then..."

There was a pause, then Katie's bottom felt like it had been set on fire as, with a sharp report, Thewliss whipped a leather bolt across her bottom. She cried out, tears immediately springing into her eyes. This hurt so much more than the spanking. The strap cut across her a second time, and a third, whacking across the meat of her bottom. Katie howled at the searing pain, and lost control of herself, piss spraying into her knickers, soaking the gusset and slashing between her feet. She couldn't see the cruel smile on Thewliss' face as he paused briefly to watch the golden trickles running down her slim thighs, but it was only a moment - Katie was still pissing herself when he brought the strap down again, whipping her across her wet knickers.

"The little slut has had another accident," he said. "Dirty tendency to piss her knickers - you can cross that off the list too." As he said this, a fifth and sixth stinging blow from his belt lit up Katie's bottom which was now a glowing, hot red. When no seventh blow fell, Katie sagged forward, sobbing on the table, piss still dripping from her crotch, bottom burning - but her pussy was not just dripping with pee. She was incredibly turned on.

"Let's try the next test, Adrian," suggested Ms Kneeshaw.

Katie felt her pissy pants being pulled down around her thighs, and steeled herself for yet more punishment - there had been implements listed in her contract that she'd had to Google and was looking forward to experiencing. Instead, she felt a hand between her shoulder blades, pressing her against the table, and then, with no warning but a grunt, her pussy lips spread and she was impaled on Mr Thewliss' cock as he thrust into her.

"No!" she squealed, trying to push away from the table, but he was bigger and stronger than her and drove himself deep, his hips pressing against her sore, whipped bottom as he fucked her. "Stop it! No! You can't!" She carried on struggling though without much conviction as the thick cock roughly fucked her, slamming in and out.

"Of course he can, you little slut," explained Ms Kneeshaw, her face now inches from Katie's. "This comes under 'miscellaneous duties', you dirty teen whore."

Katie moaned as Mr Thewliss kept punding at her, her wet pussy betraying her feelings. This played to her darkest fantasies, and she had no need to feel bad as there was nothing she could do. She submitted to the fucking, her pussy leaking down her sticky thighs as he slid in and out.

The partners mostly stopped talking to her then, as she limply went along. Thewlis pulled out her gaping pussy, and she was ashamed to realise she was disappointed. He picked her up and turned her over so she lay on the table, her bottom hanging off the end, and her disappointment ended as he dragged her knickers off her left foot and unceremoniously pushed his cock into her again, lifting her right leg over his shoulder. She felt the wet rag of her pissy knickers slip down her calf, a soggy reminder around her knee as she lay there and was fucked.

Suddenly, she realised that the others were no longer just watching. Ms Kneeshaw had stripped naked and climbed on the table too. Katie hardly had a second to ask what came next when Ms Kneeshaw straddled her and quickly sat on her face. For the first time in her 18 years, Katie tasted another woman. She knew what was expected of her and wriggled her face around so she could draw breath, before sticking her tongue out and lapping at Ms Kneeshaw's cunt, tasting the tangy, sweet flavour of her juices, licking over and across her lips. She figured she was going something right as the older woman moaned and started to gently grind her hips, pressing her pussy against Katie's face.

As this was going on, she felt Mr Thewliss pull out of her, but again things moved too fast for her to worry about it. A distinctly bigger, thicker cock was suddenly forcing it's way into her, and she understood that Mr Overbrook was now fucking her too. He was rougher than his colleague, shoving deep into her, withdrawing then slamming in again. Each thrust rubbed against her punished bottom, reminding her than she'd been spanked and whipped with a belt. And as her legs jolted from the fucking, the wet knickers that'd slipped around her thigh reminded her that she'd pissed herself whilst Mr Thewliss beat her.

As she licked and probed at Ms Kneeshaw's pussy she could hear some conversation, but her hearing was muffled by the blonde's thighs. All she made out for sure was Mr Overbrook gasping "No, we need to leave some surprises for later in the week," to a suggestion Thewliss had made.

Katie tried to focus on the pussy in her face, although the vigorous fucking she was getting was hard to ignore. But soon enough she felt Ms Kneeshaw shiver and suddenly her breathing was cut off as the partner started to really grind herself against Katie's submissive tongue, then she heard her cry out and tasted more of her juices as she came on her face. Drawing in a ragged breath, Katie reflexively kept licking as Ms Kneeshaw rolled off her, then looked between her own legs to confirm it was Mr Overbrook who was currently fucking her pussy with the only permission apparently being in her contract. If it was, then she was getting paid for this. She was basically their teenaged whore. She sobbed in shame as she lay on the table and let him screw her, catching sight of Thewliss, who was stood watching, wanking himself energetically.

Hands suddenly grabbed her arms and, as Overbrook pulled out of her sopping pussy, she was dragged off the table and roughly shoved to her knees, miserably aware that the reason her knees were wet was that she was kneeling in a puddle of her own piss. Ms Kneeshaw took hold of her head from behind, and dragged her head back with a fistful of hair. "Open wide you naughty slut!" she hissed, and Katie did. Standing in front of her, Thewliss and Overbrook started at her, faces twisted with lust, as they jerked at their own cocks.

Thewliss came first, exhaling in short bursts and twitching as a thick rope of spunk jetted across Katie's face, hitting her nose, splashing across an eyelid and going in her mouth. Kneecap was holding her lower jaw, letting her know not to close it, so she let her mouth gape as a second and third spurt of Thewliss' cum filled her mouth. No sooner had that happened than Overbrook groaned and massive jet of salty cum hit her in the face, dripping off her cheeks into her cleavage and missing in her mouth, a spermy cocktail.

They made her sit like that as they gathered themselves. Spanked, beaten, fucked and with two men's cum skating her face and oozing onto her blouse. She was humiliated, ashamed, appalled at herself and enormously turned on. There was nothing she could conceive of them doing to het at this moment that she would not be game for. And she so badly wanted to cum.

Kneeshaw released her hold, and Katie sagged down onto her haunches, sitting in her piss puddle. Looking up at the three partners, she slowy, deliberately, swallowed the mixed mouthful of cum, wincing like she'd sucked a lemon, but then smiling shyly at them.

"Did I pass my assessment?" she asked, uncharacteristic cheek coming through her horniness.

"Don't be impertinent, girl!" scolded Ms Kneeshaw.

And then the humiliation was increased. Simultaneously, Mr Thewliss and Mr Overbrook took hold of themselves, stepped towards her and started to piss on her. Pungent, yellow piss ran over her hair and all over her face as Thewliss aimed there, whilst Mr Overbrook focused his stream at her tits, soaking her blouse until it was transparent. She choked back her revulsion and, as with all the other things they'd done to her, Katie mutely accepted the two men pissing over her.

Finally they stopped. Kneeshaw now smiled. "Now you've passed your assessment, Parsons. Welcome to the firm." The three turned and, gathering their clothes, left her alone, a horny, humiliated, punished, piss-slut. She snatched at her pussy the second the door closed, intent on bringing herself to the greatest cum of her life, when suddenly the door re-opened. It was Ms Kneeshaw.

"Ah-ah, Miss Parsons. No touching yourself. You cum when I say and at no other time. Not unless you were wanting me to cane you. Which you weren't, I'm sure...were you?"

Willow Wets

 

Willow had long been a fan of wetting herself -- in fact, she couldn't even remember how it had started. When she lived with her parents, and then in a college dorm, the opportunities for enjoying that activity had been few and far between, but now that she had her own apartment, she could partake in that particular pleasure as often as she wanted. And she almost always wanted to.

It was a lazy Sunday, which Willow thought were the best days for having "accidents." The night before, she hadn't gone to the toilet before bed, and woke up fairly desperate that morning. (Willow frequently went to sleep with a rather full bladder, but it was less common for her to wake up still desperate, as she often woke up to wet sheets instead.) She lazed around in bed for a while, and contemplated relieving herself right there, but instead got up and went though her usual morning routine, which of course did not involve using the toilet -- in fact, her toilet was rarely used at all. By the time she was making her usual breakfast of toast with jam and a large mug of tea, she was fidgeting quite a lot, and had even resorted to even grabbing her crotch a bit to postpone the inevitable. She made it though breakfast without leaking, but an hour later she had progressed from fidgeting to squirming to flat-out bouncing, was holding herself constantly, and even moaning occasionally. Still, she held on. She loved it when she made a choice to wet herself, and the feeling of deliberately releasing her bladder and letting her pee escape into her clothing, but there was something even better about having a real accident -- at least, as real as an accident could be when she had done nothing to prevent it.

Despite her determination, it was only a few more minutes before the pressure became too much. She spurted, and felt the panties against her crotch grow hot and wet. She gripped herself even harder, but less than a minute later another, longer stream escaped, and she could feel her jeans growing damp under her hands. Willow crossed her legs even tighter and clenched her muscles, but only managed to halt the leaking for a few seconds before her bladder gave up entirely, and urine came flooding out. Her already wet crotch became soaked, and almost immediately after that pee began rushing down the insides of her legs, leaving dark, glistening streaks that widened as her bladder continued emptying. She could feel the wetness seeping up and around her butt, and spreading around her legs. Her formerly white socks turned yellow, and an impressively large puddle formed on the floor. Finally, she finished relieving herself, although excess pee still dripped from her pants to the floor. She looked at the mess she had made, and took a strange sort of pride in how much of her jeans were dark with liquid, and the size of her puddle. Although Willow kept these kinds of activities private, she did enjoy how visible wetting her pants was -- it would have been immediately obvious to anyone who saw her that she had peed, not into a toilet, but directly into her pants! With this thought, she began to rub her crotch and inner thighs through her still-dripping pants, moaning softly with pleasure as she did so.

Only when her pee grew cold and sticky did she stop and clean up. She spent the next several hours being satisfyingly unproductive and waiting for her bladder to refill. However, when she started squirming again, it wasn't because of her bladder. This time, it was her bowels that were becoming more and more insistent on voiding their contents. In order to increase how desperate she felt, Willow walked around her house.

After a few minutes, she felt her load turtling, but she managed to avoid messing her pants for the moment. Once she had regained a reasonable amount of control, she pulled down her pants and underwear, and was satisfied to see skid marks on the otherwise white panty lining. She pulled her pants back up and continued to walk around, occasionally stretching and even squatting. The moments when she almost lost control came closer and closer together, and increased in severity. After a particularly intense cramp, Willow knew she would have no choice but to fill her panties soon. She made her way outside to her backyard, which was surrounded by tall, thick hedges. Once outside, she decided to examine the inside of her panties again, and was rewarded by the sight of numerous new brown streaks.

With her pants still down, however, another wave of desperation hit, and Willow knew that her bowels were seconds away from emptying, whether she wanted them to or not. She only just managed to get her panties back up around her hips (her pants were left dropped around her knees) before she felt her load turtling again. This time, however, she was unable to avoid soiling herself. Her poop started to come out, and tented the seat of her panties before smushing a bit. Willow then gave up on trying to maintain any semblance of continence, and relaxed. Immediately and without any effort, a second, longer log slid out. She could feel the warm mass of poop pressing against her butt, and her panties were now distinctly heavy and sagging. She lightly ran her hand over the back of her panties, and discovered that the bulge was already quite obvious. However, Willow wasn't done yet. She squatted slightly and pushed, so the last of her load was also deposited into her underwear. She also felt a familiar hot wetness running down her legs for the second time that day, and realized that in voiding her bowels, she had also, quite unintentionally and without even realizing she was doing so, voided her mostly-refilled bladder.

Although she had completely relieved herself, Willow continued to stand in her yard for a few moments, taking a strange sort of pride in the mess she had created. She then pulled her pee-streaked pants back up -- further squashing her sizable load as she did so -- and walked inside, causing her poop to shift further into the base of her panties, and her gait became a sort of waddle. She made her way to the bathroom, where she positioned herself in front of the full-length mirror. Although the wet patches were a dead giveaway that she had peed herself, there was minimal visual evidence that she had also soiled herself, since her pants were loose enough that most of the bulge was hidden (she could just barely see it, but she knew what to look for), and a brown color hadn't yet seeped though to the outside of her pants. She then dropped her pants again, and examined how the back of her panties looked.

Now, it was clear that she'd had two "accidents." Her panties were made of thick white cotton, and not only was the front of her crotch wet, but also decidedly yellow. She twisted a bit so she could see her rear in the mirror, and observed that her load was causing her panties to sag quite a lot between her legs -- she even bounced on the balls of her feet a few times so she could feel the weight jiggle. Furthermore, the seat of her panties already had a noticeable brown stain on them. She grinned, appreciating the irony of standing with pee-soaked, poop-filled panties only a few feet away from a toilet. Willow wasn't quite done enjoying her "accident," so she pulled her pants back up again and wandered around her house for a while, before finally cleaning up, showering, and changing.

Pissing herself at the Dentist

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Female Desperation And Wetting Story December 16, 2007

 

 

 

 

 

Female Desperation And Wetting Story

December 16, 2007

Another Story I Have Come Across Enjoy The Female Desperation And Wetting

It happened while I was walking through the city center with a girlfriend during a nice, but not too hot summer day in August. We had been visiting some friends and decided to walk back to her place where I had left my car (we had gone to our friends by bus, since parking is just next to impossible in the city center). On the way home, we had got something to drink at a nice terrace at the market square (too expensive for the service, of course) and now we crossed a beautiful park area, with the usual lawns, pools, ducks and children running around. It was then that she turned to me and said: “Shit, I should have gone to the bathroom at that place on the market”. Of course I casually remarked: “Well, this place isn’t exactly fitted for a pee, is it?” while looking around and seeing everybody running around with no sheltered spot anywhere near. She nodded and added: “Still, I’ve to go *bad*. Where is the nearest pub?” Unfortunately for her, the closest place where we could possibly find a public bathroom was the market place, fifteen minutes behind us. Stupid cities with all action concentrated in one place and the rest being only offices and houses. And parks of course.

We decided to go on and try to reach her house, which was still ten minutes or so to go. After one more minute of walking, she suddenly went off the path and crossed the lawn towards a few bushes. “Sorry, I’ll try it here. I *really* need to pee”, she said. Looking for a spot where she could successfully squat down without being noticed, she almost ran around the bushes only to find a children’s playground at the other side. Rather angry she came back to me. “Grrr who has designed this park. They should force him to wet his pants,” she mumbled, and I could notice that she crossed her thighs under her wide skirt.

I wanted to try something. “Well, maybe this park was designed by a woman, you know. Back in the fifties or so, when almost every woman still wore skirts. Like you do now.” She lifted her eyebrows and looked at me. “What’s that to do with the absence of public toilets where they should be?”, she asked. Then the suddenly understood and frowned. “Oh yeah, well, you mean…”. I shrugged. “Yes. Nobody will notice. I will, but I don’t mind at all. Just go ahead, there’s nobody close and no one approaching right now.”

She sighed and looked down to her white summer skirt that reached down to just below her knees. She couldn’t help still crossing her thighs and now even pressing her hands in her crotch. “I don’t have much choice, do I? Jesus, if I don’t do it myself, I will be wet within a minute anyway. Shit. What a stupid move of me.” That said, she left the path and walked onto the grass. She looked aside, to me again, and slightly pulled up her skirt. “Do you think I can squat without people noticing?” Before I could answer, a bunch of yelling children came in from the opposite corner of the park and my friend shook her head herself. “Nope. Forget about that. Damned, I’ll look like a three-year-old girl.”

Then she stepped out of her slippers, walked for a meter on bare feet through the grass, stopped, and parted her legs a little. Her wide skirt effectively hid this pose and from a distance of more than ten meters nobody would see anything strange. To cover her up even more, I decided to go down on one knee and started to re-tie my shoelace. It appeared that she now was waiting for me to finish with my unwilling shoe lace. “Go ahead”, I said. “Just enjoy it.” She looked at me with a mix of embarassment and a smile. “Please, don’t tell anybody, okay?” I nodded. She cleared her throat. “Alright then. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Her hands grabbed her skirt, shook it loosely over her legs, and I noticed that she casually reached through her skirt to the waistband of her panties to pull them up firmly. Looking around to the people, she pulled the skirt away from the front of her panties, let it carefully fall down again, reached behind her to check that her skirt was not hanging between her legs, and then spread her legs a little more. “Okay. There we go, for god’s sake.”

She looked to her crotch and breathed deeply. Then she slowly released her muscles. I saw her pull her belly a bit inward and bite her lip when her pee flowed into her panties. She let her breath escape through her teeth and obviously felt foolish. But the relief was so big that it took over within seconds. Together with a quite satisfied expression on her face, the pee started to drip down between her legs. It became a stream, and then an even bigger stream. When she was in full swing, she giggled and looked foolishly at me. “Now, how do I look like? Wrong! Eighteen years older!” Still peeing, she casually looked around and saw nobody nearer than fifty meters. Casually she put a hand in her skirt’s left pocket. “Well, after all, this isn’t so bad. It is only my panties. And it is a warm day, anyway.” She looked to the sky. “Besides, it is not an unpleasant feeling.” Rapidly correcting herself, se added: “That is, now my panties are wet, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” I rose to my two feet again and told her I thought it indeed didn’t matter at all. I also told her that I really liked seeing her standing with her legs a bit apart, wearing a skirt, and thoroughly wetting her panties. She looked away and blushed. “Really? Well, at least that will keep you from making fun out of me.”

Then the stream died away and she quickly bend her knees, crossed her thighs and in this half-squatting position she squeezed her panties as well as she could. A last gush of pee trickled onto the ground. She straightened her back again, turned around, picked up her slippers and continued her walk on the path with me. On the way back, we didn’t talk anymore about what happened, and she only three times grabbed her skirt to make sure it didn’t touch her panties.

Within ten minutes we reached her home. While I sat down and picked up a hifi magazine, she went upstairs and I expected to hear her rumbling about in the bathroom. To my amazement I heard her coming back down within half a minute. When I looked up from the magazine, she stood right in front of me, legs slightly apart, wearing a very short white sports skirt instead of her long one. She said nothing, just looked at me. I stared to her in disbelief. We were friends, but had no relation. I had seen her in short skirts before, but never so clearly challenging. “Still wearing the same panties?”, I asked, knowing that she just had not had the time to change them and dry herself. In answer she came closer and just said: “Look for yourself.” Putting down my magazine, I reached for the hem of her skirt and slowly I lifted it with both hands. It reveiled light-blue plain panties, just below her waist, sporting a dark stain centered in her crotch and spreading around for about fifteen centimeters, While she still stood there, I got out of the chair and lifted up her skirt from behind. Same story. I just said “Wow!”.

Then she turned around and told me to follow while she entered the garden. Arrived there, she squatted down and clearly made preparations to pee her panties again. Now I couldn’t hold myself any longer. “Please, stop it for a moment. Can I join you?” Playing she was shocked, she looked up to me. “Just join me? Right as you stand there? C’me on, you won’t get away with a soaked pair of jeans.” But she rose to her feet and directed me into the house again. “Wait here. I’ll get you what you need.” Hurrying up the stairs, she clearly showed her wet panties under her skirt. Almost as if I knew what was coming, I started to take off my shoes, socks, and jeans. Just as I put them on a chair, now only being dressed in a shirt and my underwear, reveiling an undeniable bulge in my pants, she dashed down again and gigglingly handed me one of her tiny skirts. It was a very simple model, just a band of fabric of about thirty centimeters with an elastic waistband. I slipped it on. The skirt covered my underwear enough to be useful, and since it was all but tight, my bulge dissapeared completely. My girlfriend circled me and giggled again. “It does not fit you. You have no hips, and those furry legs really seem silly. Still, it will do.” She entered the garden again and I followed her like in a dream.

Arrived where she wanted to be, she turned and took my hands in hers. Standing about a meter from eachother, we spread our legs, wider this time, and waited. I felt a great urge to pee, but wanted to see her reaction. After ten seconds, she said: “Well, now you know how it feels, standing in the open and knowing that someone watches you while you are going to pee your panties.” I smiled. “Are you ready? I am.” She nodded. “Yes, I am.” She winked with her left eye. “Now?” As an answer I looked down towards my skirt, held my breath, and carefully let go some pee. I felt my underwear eagerly absorb it as it touched the fabric. I peed some more. Then I looked my friend straight into her eyes and told her I’d wet myself. Quickly she lifted my skirt with her right hand and checked. When she saw the stained front of my pants, she smiled and let the skirt fall down again. Then she put both her arms in her sides and threw her long hair over her shoulder with a rapid head movement. She looked down to her own skirt and I heard a soft, hissing sound. While she carefully peed her panties again, I lifted her skirt for the second time and watched the pee as it surged through the fabric, making the blue panties seem like interwoven with silver threads in the bright sunlight. The stream soon soaked the panties again, and finding no way out, gradually trickled down onto the ground.

With a groan, I let myself go, and soon my whole crotch felt warm and moist, while a steady stream flowed from under my skirt between my legs onto the grass. Now my girlfriend suddenly reached under my arms forward to my skirt, lifted it above my waist, and thereby pushing my arms higher, so that I lifted her skirt altogether as well. For one second, she gazed at my underwear, showing a completely stained front and a big bulge with pee flowing around it. Then, she came closer, and pushed her crotch against mine. Her hands let go of my skirt and grabbed my ass, pulling my wet underwear tightly against her wet panties. I still peed, and she must have felt that. She peed as well, and I sure as hell felt that. While still peeing, she started to move rhythmically with her hips, and I could nothing but follow her lambada. We stood there for thirty seconds, peeing our panties and firmly pushing our crotches together. We didn’t kiss. Then I felt another function taking over in my abdomen. I started to push back harder, and she immediately reacted. It took us five more seconds to reach the point of no return. She closed her eyes and groaned. I slipped my hands under her skirt and firmly squeezed her wet buttocks. Then I came. My friend let out a high-pitched squeek and shuddered over all her body. She
took fifteen seconds to complete the orgasm.

We held each other for quite a time. Then, we stepped back a little, so that our skirts fell down properly. We both did not feel at all like taking them off or changing our underwear. Instead, she entered the house to make some tea and I sat down on a garden chair, careful to pull up my skirt first. Amazingly, the front of my skirt still was still completely unstained. We sat there, drinking tea and casually letting something find its way out, for the rest of the day, until sunset forced us inside to prevent our bladders from catching cold. Because, as she said, it was nice to wet yourself when you could get away with it so easily, but sadly that was not always the case. I could nothing but agree.