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      When the doors slid open, Nicole was relieved to find the lift empty. She dashed inside and waited tensely for the door to close again. As they clunked together, she immediately doubled over and grabbed herself between her legs, letting out a long moan as she struggled not to wet herself.

      The lift began ascending. Her flat was on the six floor. It should only take about fifteen seconds to get there, then a further twenty to reach her flat door. She already had her key in her right hand so that she wouldn't disgrace herself on the threshold as she tried to fumble it into the lock and get inside.

      The lift stopped on the fourth floor. "Shit!" Nicole whispered savagely as she forced herself to remove her hands from her crotch and straighten up. She did her best to strike a casual pose as the doors opened again, but in truth she was so close to wetting her trousers that she hardly cared who saw her dancing in desperation.

      Then he stepped into the lift: six feet tall, lean, muscular, and a smile to die for. Oh God, and she was dying -- dying for the loo. Why did a good looking bloke have to get into the lift when she was on the verge of pissing herself.

      "Hello," he greeted her, quickly appraising her body as he spoke. She could have screamed when he pressed the button for the sixth floor. Another delay! At this rate, she wasn't going to make it!

      Nicole flushed with embarrassment, but forced herself to greet him in what she hoped was a casual tone. To her amazement, he flicked a second glance at her legs. How could he be interested in her when her she was standing there like a knock-kneed schoolgril, her entire body rigid because of a chronically-full bladder. How unattractive was that?

      The lift climbed two more floors and then stopped. As he stepped out into the corridor, he gave her a final glance and a smile. Still holding on to her dignity -- just -- Nicole smiled back until the doors were completely shut. Then she broke into a panicky dance, raising her left knee until her thigh was horizontal, then the other, then back again, alternating frantically until finally the lift let her out onto her floor.

      Nicole half-ran, half-hobbled to the door of her flat, reaching up to insert the key because she didn't dare straighten her body again. She dashed inside and had almost made it to the bathroom when a man wearing a ski mask stepped out in front of her. Startled to find someone in her flat, Nicole have a gasp of alarm and at the same time started to wet herself. She gasped again, quickly crossing her legs and bending over to regain control, and while she was doubled up, the man -- the intruder -- moved behind her and grabbed her. He clamped a hand over her mouth before she could scream, and pulled her head back so that she was forced to straighten her body.

      Unmindful of his presence, Nicole thrust a hand against her crotch and managed to stop wetting herself. Her knickers were soaked, but only a few trickled had started down her innter thighs. She crossed her legs, squeezing and rubbing her thighs together to stop her pee getting anything further.

      Without uttering a word, the man dragged her into the bathroom, led her across to the toilet and spun her round to face him. For a few hopeful moments, Nicole thought he was going to let her use the toilet, but then he forced her to sit down on the closed lid. A gravelly voice came through the mask, and hot breath touched her face.

      "Don 't make a sound and you won't be hurt. Understand?"

      Nicole nodded. Feeling she had nothing to lose, she said weakly, "I need to go to the loo."

      When the intruder spoke again, it was in exactly the same gravelly voice. "Don't struggle and you won't get hurt. Understand?" It was as if she had not spoken.

      "Please," she pleaded, "can I use to loo?"

      To her horror, he produced a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and seized her right arm. With startling speed, he clamped the bracelet shut around her wrist, then secured the second bracelet about her left wrist. Without pausing for a moment, the intruder pulled a length of rope from another pocket and tied it to the chain of the handcuffs, then stood on the edge of the bath to tie the other end to an overhead waterpipe. Nicole watched him expertly tying her up, her bladder aching and twinging and threatening to let go. She was so very close to bursting.

      She decided to plead with her captor one last time. "Please let me go to the toilet. I'm nearly wetting myself."

      Without acknowledgeing her plight, the intruder nimbly hopped down off the edge of the bath and from under the top of his black traksuit her produced a roll of red duct tape. Seeing it, Nicole knew what was coming next.

      "Oh please," she begged once more. The intruder pulled a strip of tape from the roll and tore it free. "Please," Nicole persisted as he held up the strip of tape, positioning it in front of her mouth. "I'm so desper--mmmmppphhh!"

      He pressed the tape firmly over her mouth and cheeks, silencing her pleas to be allowed to use the toilet. Deftly, he dropped to one knee and wound tape around her thighs and ankles. Then, without any further delay, the intruder ran from the bathroom, and a few seconds later Nicole her the door to the flat slam shut, engaging the lock. She was trapped in her, alone and absolutely bursting for a piss. She was momentarily struck by the irony of being tied up on the toilet, the one place where she had longed to be more than anywhere else on the way home from work, and now she was here she couldn't reach to even undo her trousers, let alone pull them and her knickers down.

      The idea that wetting herself was a bad thing to do was so deeply ingrained in her that, for a few more minutes, she went on fighting to hold in the contents of her painfully-distended bladder, wiggling her legs, knees bouncing violently up and down, her body rocking and twisting as did her utmost to hold on. But of course there was no way to hold it until her boyfriend John arrived to take her out for the evening. That wouldn't be for at least an hour yet, and she didn't think she could wait for even another minute. Her bladder really and truly felt like it was about to burst. It was insisting that she allow it to empty.

      Nicole made one final, desperate bid to hold herself and keep her trousers and boots dry, but it was no good. Even before the minute was up, she was leaking uncontrollably. It quickly gathered momentum, streaming out of her and into her knickers and trousers. Talk about Niagra Falls, she thought to herself as she finally gave up fighting and let the rest go.

      She looked down as the wetness spread down the legs of trousers, snorting with relief through her nose and gag. She could feel her pee collecting on the toilet lid beneath her bottom and thighs, and listened to it spilling over the edge and splattering against the tiled floor. The relief was immense.

      She tried not to think about how embarrassed she was going to feel when John found her (thank God she'd given him a key to the flat or she might have been stuck in here like this for hours, perhaps even all night). What would he think when he found her tied up in her own bathroom, sitting in a pair of soaked trousers and surrounded by a pool of her own piss?

      Well, it didn't matter. It wasn't her fault, and she really did have to let it go.