Tree-Tied & Desperate

by David North

Photos courtesy of
Secretaries in Bondage

      Sarah checked the number of the house again. This was definitely the right one. She released a pent-up sigh as she sat for a few moments squeezing her thighs together. After getting lost and wasting twenty minutes looking for the right house, her full bladder was sending out urgent signals for attention.

      Sarah gathered up her camera and paperwork and climbed from the car, locking it as she crossed the street to 276 Beech Road, the last house on the street overlooking a woodland. Despite her discomfort, she smiled; she would have no trouble selling this place. But before she did anything else, she would have to ask the owners for the use of their bathroom.

      Mounting the front step, she rang the door bell and listened to the chimes reverberating inside the house. Sarah shifted her weight uncomfortably as she waited for someone to open the door. Bending her right leg, she pressed the doorbell again. Still, no one answered. "Oh no," Sarah muttered as she began pacing back and forth on the step. If Mr. and Mrs. Hammond were out, she was in trouble. She badly needed to pee and she wasn't sure she could hold on until she got back to the office, fifteen miles through heavy traffic.

      She cursed as her ittitation rose. The Hammonds said they'd be here, didn't they? But then she had been late arriving, so maybe they'd given up on her and gone out somewhere. Hopping from foot to foot now, she could not stand there much longer. Redoubling her efforts to control her sphincter, Sarah started back towards her car, not looking forward to the long and painful drive before her.

      Halfway back to the care, she stopped. Why should she suffer in agony all the way back to the office. The house had a back yard and plenty of trees; she was sure she could find somewhere to pee back there. Sarah turned back towards the house and followed the path around the side to the back lawn. Her heels clicked noisily on the concrete, but she made no attempt to suppress the sound since no one was in. She had just stepped onto the grass and was heading for a cluster of trees at the far end of the yard, when movement caught her eye. She stopped. A man and a woman were digging a hole in the lawn. Sarah gave in inward groan of frustration: the Hammonds were still here after all. Now she would have to wait until she could steer the conversation round to using their bathroom. Flexing her thigh muscles, she only hoped she could wait that long.

      "Hello," she called out, her hands going unconsciously to her hips, the toe of her right shoe tapping on the grass. "I'm Sarah Whitelaw from CT Realty. Sorry I'm late, but I got lost when I turned off--."

      Sarah broke off at the peculiar reaction her presence had illicited from the Hammonds. They both spun round to face her with startled expression, Mr. Hammond dropping the spade her had been using to shovel soil from the hole they were digging. Sarah wondered fleetingly why they were digging a hole in a perfectly good lawn, especially when they wanted to sell the place. Then to her alarm, the blonde woman, presumable Mrs. Hammond, started running towards her. Sarah was too surprised to move. Her surprise turned to shock as Mrs. Hammond roughly siezed hold of her arm, spun her round and clamped his other hand over her mouth. "Get some rope," she said to her husband, "and something to gag her with."

      Sarah could not believe what was happening. She struggled against the blonde's grip as her husband ran into the house and came back a minute later with a coil of rope and a cloth. "Gag her," his wife instructed. As soon as the woman removed his hand from her mouth, Sarah tried to scream, but the sound was choked off by a cloth being forced between her teeth and tied at the back of her neck.

      "Shouldn't we take her inside?" Hammond asked.

      "No," the blonde answered as she pulled Sarah's arms behind her hand and clamped her wrists together in a powerful grip. "Tie them together so I can let go, then we'll take her over to that tree."

      "We should take her inside," Hammond argued. "Someone's gonna see her out here."

      "What , and let her see everything? Are you crazy?" After a short pause, the blonde added, "Anyway, we're not overlooked here."

      "But what if someone's in the woods?" Hammond persisted,

      "Unlikely. Come on, we don't have all day."

      "Okay, okay." Sarah felt the rope being wound around her wrists, loop after loop. Hammond was pulling it tight, and Sarah was grateful that he was securing it over the sleeves of her jacket and not against her skin. Even that would have been as nothing compared to the painful throbbing of her abdomen. Her bladder was threatening to burst and Sarah had to fight hard to avoid wetting herself. She was frightened, however, her concentration poor. She hopped from one foot to the other in rapid succession, fighting the near-overpowering urge to release.

      As soon as her wrists were secured, Hammond frog-marched her across the lawn. They passed close to the hole the couple had been digging, and Sarah looked into it reluctantly, afraid of what she might see. But it was empty. They arrived at a huge tree that must have been standin g when the first settlers came, and the blonde stood Sarah against it. "Tie her to it,' she said as he held on to her writhing captive. "Hold still," she ordered sharply, but Sarah shook her head and carried on bending first one knee and then the other. She had no choice: Her bladder was about to explode!

      The woman pulled rope across Sarah's shoulders, then circled the tree and and pulled across another length just below her breasts. Hammond then stooped down and tied rope around Sarah's ankles, hen stood up again as his wife joined him in front of their captive. "I forgot she was coming this morning,' Hammond admitted.

      "Me too. What are we going to do with her?"

      "I don't know. We can worry about that later. Let's finish burying the evidence."

      Sarah pleaded through her gag, begging them to free her and let her use the bathroom, but her words were rendered almost intelligible by the gag. The woman seemed to understand, however. "I think she needs to pee."

      "Too bad," Hammond said with a quick shrug of indifference. "Come on."

      The couple returned to their task and left Sarah standing against the tree. She was wiggling her bound legs continuously now, barely able to keep from peeing in her panties. There seemed no hope of escape, but she nevertheless tugged and strained at the ropes binding her wrists. She wanted more than anything to be able to hobble off into the trees, pull her skirt up and tear off her panties and pantyhose to that she could enjoy the blissful sensation of emptying her tortured bladder, but the rope securing her wrists had no slack in it at all. She was trapped and utterly helpless.

      Sarah went on pleading to be released, to be allowed to use the bathroom, but her muffled cries were ignored by the industrious Hammonds. After ten minutes more of digging, they went inside the house. Sarah watched them go and intensified her efforts to get free. She swuirmed and struggled frantically, her feet dancing as far as her restrictive bonds would allow. She couldn't contain the flood much longer -- she had to get free or she was going to pee all over herself.

      As the minutes dragged interminably by, Sarah struggled valiently on, but she was fast approaching the limits of her endurance. Her bladder felt like a huge balloon full of water (which, she realized, is essentially what it was), ponderously heavy so that even the act of wiggling her legs to assist her tired muscles shifted the weight of her bladder, causing additional strain. And yet there was no way she could simply stand still -- she had never needed to pee this desperately in her life, and she absolutely could not stand still even for a second or she would be forced to go. .

      At last, the blonde came back and Sarah hoped that the woman would take pity on her and untie the ropes so that she could get to the bathroom before it was too late. But Mrs. Hammond had only come to check on her. She tugged at thegag as Sarah begged and whimpered, making sure that it was properly secure. "Oh dear, you need to go pee-pee, don't you." She reached down and rubbed Sarah's abdomen, grinning as her prisoner squirmed and yelped in pain. "I hope you've got a really strong bladder because I'm afraid you've just got to wait. I can't let you inside the house."

      Sarah sobbed with relief through her gag as the blonde desisted from disturbing her bulging bladder. "What that fun for you?" the blonde taunted. "It certainly was for me. I like to see a woman desperate for the bathroom. And more importantly for you, does does my husband, so if I were you, I wouldn't pee my skirt. That kind of thing turns him on big-time, and if that happens I can't answer for what he might do to you." The blonde half turned to go, then added a parting comment. Stay dry," she advised, then headed purposefully back towards the house.

      Sarah tipped back her head and squealed in frustration. Hammond was a pervert, and by the look of things so was his wife. Oh God, what had she stumbled into. They'd tied her to a tree while she was bursting to pee, and now she was not she had better not wet herself. But how could she not wet herself. If she didn't pee in the next minute, her bladder would burst inside her abdomen. She had to pee; simply had to! Didn't the stupid woman understand that?

      Sarah went wild, wiggling her knees and renewing her fight with the rope binding her wrists. She had to get free or this insane couple would hurt her; perhaps even kill her. She certainly didn't relish the prospect of wetting herself and then being raped by a hyper-excited Hammond. Oh God, she had to get free. She tried to call for help once more, but her cries were so muted by the gag that they scarcely traveled any distance at all. No one couldpossibly hear her. No one could see her plight. No one was going to save her.

      Again and again, Sarah wrestled with the ropes securing her hands behind her back. She longed to be able to thrust her hands beneath her skirt and press her fingers against her pee hole, giving her tortured muscles some reprieve from the strain they were laboring under, but it was hopeless. Her legs were growing so tired, but she dare not rest. If she stopped wiggling her knees and rubbing her thighs together even for a second, the dam would burst. Over the sound of her own sobs, she could hear the sound of her pantyhose rubbing together -- rasp-rasp-rasp-rasp, fast and frantic. So desperate. So impossibly desperate.

      Sarah felt hot pee stream down her thighs, soaking into her panyhose. It ran down into her shoes, filling them in a matter of seconds. She looked down to see a wet patch spreading across the front of her skirt, growing with astonishing speed. There was so much pee. It felt like she was releasing gallons. She felt enormous relief mingled with the horror of having lost control of her bladder. What would happen when Hammond saw what she had done?

      Right on cue, she heard voices. The Hammonds were coming back outside. They were carrying a large box between them, clearly intent on burying it in the hole they had dug. Before they reached the hole with it, however, Hammond glanced across at Sarah and then stopped. She watched him take in her bound body, lingering on the front of her skirt and registering the blantently obvious fact that their prisoner had wet herself.

      Slowly, Hammond lowered the box, and watched unchallenged by his wife, started walking towards Sarah like a man in a trance. Sarah watched in horror as he drew near, unable to escape whatever he had in mind for her.



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