Phyllis could not believe she was the last one at work again. The boss seemed to be piling more and more work on her, and she was beginning to wonder if her new-employee display of efficiency had backfired on her. She hadn't even stopped for a break all afternoon, which of course was why her bladder was uncomfortably full. She toyed with the idea of dashing to the bathroom before starting the final letter, then glanced at the clock. Six-thirty. She was supposed to be picking up her daughter Jill from the Activities Center at seven, and the letter absolutely had to go out today.

      With a sigh of irritation, Phyllis crossed her legs and opened another letter template. The letter was long, and it was going to take her at least twenty minutes to get through it. It was going to be extremely tight, and she probably wouldn't have time to visit the bathroom before leaving. She quickly calculated how long it would take her to reach the Activities Center, pick up Jill and drive home. At least half an hour, maybe longer if the traffic was bad. Could she hold on for another hour? She winced at the prospect, then started to type, telling herself she would just have to wait and that was that.

      Two minutes into the letter, the phone rang. Phyllis glared at it reproachfully then continued typing for a few more seconds before yielding to the temptation to answer it. "Hello?"

      "Hi, mom?" came Jill's familiar voice.

      "Hi honey. What's up?"

      "Nothing's up. Sandy has invited me back to her place for supper. Is that okay?"

      Phyllis experienced a momentary pang of regret. She just couldn't seem to find enough hours in the day to spend with her daughter lately, and now it would be a few less. Just then, her bladder gave a spasm and her face took on a pained expression. Resting her free hand on the front of her skirt and pressing her knees a little more tightly together, Phyllis acceded to her daughter's request.

      "Cool," Jill enthused. "Pick me up later?"

      "Sure," Phyllis agreed. "At nine."

      "Ten."

      "Nine thirty."

      "Okay."

      A suitable compromise having been reached, Jill began to tell her mother about the game, offering virtually a blow-by-blow account. Phyllis raised the toes of her right shoe and began pivoting her foot on her heels, waggling it up and down in an attempt to distract herself from her aching bladder. "Listen honey," she interrupted her daughter after a minute or so, "tell me all about it later. I need to finish up some work right now."

      "Okay," the girl agreed and promptly hung up. Phyllis blew out her cheeks with relief, then realized that she now had the time to visit the bathroom before finishing the letter.

      Standing up as she replace the telephone and feeling her desire to pee intensify sharply. She turned towards the door leading into the outer office where the restrooms were located, and then froze. The sight which confronted her almost made her wet herself on the spot. A man stood in the doorway, the gun in his hand trained on her. "Stay absolutely still," he warned.

      Phyllis reflexively raised her hands, at the same time tensing the muscles in her abdomen as the shock brought her to the brink of peeing her panties. She managed to maintain control, but only just. "W-what do you want?" she stammered, her voice as taut as her muscles.

      "No concern of yours," the intruder said. "What are you still doing here?"

      "What am I doing here?"

      "Why are you working late?"

      "I...I had some letters to finish for--"

      "Okay. Never mind. Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

      "What?" Phyllis asked, the muscles in her abdomen contracting as fresh anxiety gripped her. "Why?"

      "Why do you think. I'm going to tie you up."

      "Oh no, please don't. I need--"

      "Or would you rather I just shot you?"

      "No," Phyllis responded quickly, unable to resist bending her right knee as her outer sphincter muscles threatened to relax. "It's just that I need to use the ladies room."

      "I don't have time to hang around while you go in there for ten minutes."

      "But I'd only be a minute. I just need to pee."

      "Put your hands behind you," the intruder demanded again.

      "Oh please. I really need to go."

      "Do you want me to use this?" he asked, twitching the muzzle of the gun as he advanced.

      Phyllis swallowed hard but couldn't dislodge the lump in her throat, so she mutely shook her head. It didn't seem wise to argue with this man, and even though she longed to pee so badly, she obediently placed her hands together behind her back.

      The intruder roughly turned her around, and moments later Phyllis felt rope snaring her wrists. She bent her right knee again, fighting a sudden, intense urge to urinate. Terrified that she would wet herself, she quickly crossed her right leg in front of her left and pressed her thighs together, squeezing hard to prevent her tiring sphincter from giving way.

      "Good. Now, get down on the floor," the intruder order, forcing her down even as he spoke. Phyllis allowed herself to be lowered to the carpet, and watched in mounting distress as this man she'd never seen before began tying rope around her ankles. A film of sweat began forming on her upper lip and she fought a increasingly powerful desire to void her bladder. "Oh," she gasped quietly as the rope around her ankles was pulled tight and secured.

      Finally, and quite unnecessarily it seemed to Phyllis, rope was coiled around her body which pinned her arms to her sides and squashed her breasts.

      "Ouch! That hurts," she complained as the intruder cinched the rope tight.

      "Yes, maybe, but it looks good from where I'm standing."

      Phyllis almost told him he was a sadistic bastard for crushing her breasts and making her sit there with a bursting bladder, but she caught herself at the last moment. She resolved not to resist anything he did in the hope that he would depart that much sooner.

      "Got any duct tape?" the man asked her then. Phyllis shook her head no, so he went to her desk and began searching. Finding nothing there, he went to the nearest cupboard. "Ah, here we are," he announced as he took a roll of wide adhesive tape from one of the shelves. "This should do the trick."

      As she watched him peel off a strip of tape, Phyllis seized her last opportunity to speak. "Please let me use the bathroom," she pleaded. "I'm sitting here in agony."

      The intruder merely smiled and pressed the tape over Phyllis' mouth, pressing it firmly against her lips. He then tore off a second strip and added this one to the first. "That should keep you quiet," he said with obvious satisfaction. Phyllis tried to tell the man what she though of him, but the only sound to make it through her gag was "Mmmpphh!"

      Phyllis looked on as the man ransacked her office, doing her best to keep quiet and not move. She didn't want to attract his attention by squirming or making noises that might renew his interest in her. As the minutes passed, however, the increasing pain in her badly distended bladder forced her to start rocking back and forth, wiggling her legs as far as her bonds would allow so that her stockings rasping together as she scissored her thighs. God, she was really bursting.

      For ten agonizing minutes, she watched the intruder search through drawers and filing cabinets, all the time concentrating on her painfully-full bladder. She could not banish visions of herself struggling to her feet and hopping, still bound and gagged, across the room to the door. Somehow, she would get it open and continue hopping towards the toilets on the far side of the outer office. Every jolt would be sheer torture and her bladder bounced and the pee inside it pulsed against her spintcher muscles like waves pounding on a shore. She had no idea if she would be able to hold back the flood until she managed to get into the ladies room, and once there she would be faced with the problem not only of getting herself into the stall, but also of pulling up her skirt with bound hands and somehow easing her panties down her thighs. Phyllis closed her eyes in despair; she could not possible control her bladder, already on the verge of exploding, throughout such an arduous journey. Better by far to stay where she was, sitting down and in no danger of jolting her bladder. But what then? How long could she possibly hold in the pints of pee that she must have inside her?

      At last, the intruder stopped searching. Apparently, he had found whatever he was looking for. She watched as he produced a cell phone from his pants pocket and hit a key. A few moments later, he said, "I've got it." He listened to the person on the other end, then added, "Want me to burn it now?" Another pause, then, "Okay. I'll be there in half an hour."

      He slipped the cell into his pants pocket and sat in Phyll's chair, taking a large manila envelope from her desk drawer and thrusting the stolen file inside. He then licked and stuck down the flap before standing and coming over to Phyll. "Goodbye cutie," he said as he leaned down and pressed the tape against her mouth and cheeks, ensuring that it was still firmly in place. "Maybe someone will find you before you pee yourself. But then, since everyone's gone home, maybe not." He shrugged, then with a final grin he took his leave.

      Phyllis listened for the sound of the door in the outer office closing, and once she was certain that he was gone, she began struggling in earnest with her bonds. She was only minutes away from having to wet herself, and she really didn't want that to happen. Plagued by the intense guilt instilled by social strictures, Phyllis could not face the acute embarrassment at being rescued from her ordeal, only to have the security guard, or whoever it turned out to be, find her with a soaking wet skirt. She would never be able to face that person again.

      She tugged at the rope holding her wrists. There was a little bit of place in it, but not enough to slide her wrist bones through. Phyllis bent forward, moaning through her gag as she fought yet another painful spasm from her overfull bladder. She really couldn't keep control for much longer.

      She sat up again, looking around in a last, forlorn hope of finding a way out of this situation. Could she reached her desk and retrieve the letter opener? Would that work? Only the point was sharp, so probably not. There had to be something though. What about her scissors? Where had she put those?

      Then she saw it, resting on the seat of her chair. The intruder's cell phone. It must have slipped out of his pocket when he stood up. If she could reach it, perhaps she could use it to summon help. Kicking off her shoes, Phyllis wriggled her way across the room towards the chair, and when she judged she was close enough, lay down on her back and raised her legs.

      Of course, moving her body and twisting it around like this had shifted the weight of her bladder, and just as she raised her legs, a short spurt of pee escaped into her panties. Phyllis gasped, quickly lowering her legs and grunting with the effort of trying to regain control. Gasping with the effort of staving off the inevitable for just a bit longer, she lifted her toes which had the effect of stretching her calf muscles too. Somehow it helped, and she was able to hold on.

      Panting through her nose, Phyllis lay her head on the carpet for a moment, allowing her thoughts time to regroup. After a few moments, she risked raising her stockinged feet once more, and this time succeeded in placing them on the seat of the chair without losing control of her ponderous bladder. She wriggled forward a few inches until she was able to grasp the cell phone between her feet, then bent her knees to lift it free of the chair. As soon as it was clear of the seat, she let it fall to the carpet and immediately began inching her body towards it.

      She closed her eyes as the strain on her tortured abdominal muscles threatened to overwhelm her. This was all taking too long. She would never be able to hold back the flood until help arrived...unless she tried 911. It was the only chance of summoning help quickly enough to save herself from disgrace and humiliation.

      Positioning her face next to the phone, Phyllis was gratified to see that it was still switched on. She moved in close and tried to press the keys with her nose. It worked, after a fashion, bet she kept pressing two or three at a time. She couldn't even dial three simple numbers to get help. She would have to try using her fingers, if she could reach round far enough to see what she was doing.

      Her bladder muscles spasmed again, and Phyllis quickly rolled onto her side and raised her toes once more, tensing all the muscles in her legs, squeezing her thighs together with all her remaining strength to assist her tiring sphincter. God, she had never been this desperate to piss in her entire life. It was unimaginably painful and she knew she could not endure much more. She was seconds away from peeing herself. In a last, desperate bid to avoid soaking herself in pee, she struggled to sit up and reach the cell phone with her bound hands. The strain on her exhausted abdominal muscles was too great, however, and a powerful spurt of pee shot into her panties, spreading rapidly over her clamped-together thighs. so great during this awkward maneuver that she began to wet herself again. She tried to reach the phone but the flood between her legs would not stop.

      Frantic to stop wetting herself, Phyllis bunched up her knees in a last desperate attempt to regain control, but it was no good. This time, she could not stem the tide of pee gushing out between her legs, filling her panties and soaking her stockings. She moaned in despair as her bladder ejected its contents into her clothing, soaking through her skirt and into the carpet beneath her. Where she could not part her thighs, the sound of her gushing pee made a loud hissing noise as it squeezed its way past her legs and clothing.

      Phyllis felt her cheeks redden at the prospect of being found like this. The prospect of humiliation was assuaged a little by the sheer relief of feeling the pressure on her aching bladder start to subside. Oh God, it felt so good to let it go at last. If she had managed to hold it in any longer, she might have caused her bladder to physically burst.

      Phyllis sat still for a long time, allowing her bladder to completely empty. She felt the urine cooling around her backside and thighs, and this discomfort prompted her to resume working on the rope binding her wrists. If she could only get free, she could get to the toilet and clean herself up before anyone saw her like this. But what could she do about her clothes? Then, she remembered the shorts and T-shirt in her locker she had used in the gym at lunchtime. That was it - salvation! She redoubled her efforts with her bonds; she simply had to get free.

      That was when she heard the door to the outer office open. Had the intruder returned, or was it the security guard making his first rounds of the evening? Whichever it turned out to be, they were going to find a woman tied up, gagged and drenched in her own piss. Escape, if she could even have managed it, had come too late to preserve her dignity. With a resigned sigh, Phyllis laid her head down on the carpet, and waited.