Wedding Torture

(Female Desperation)

Written by Veronique

This story is © Veronique.
All rights reserved.

      A few weeks ago I was on a wedding of an old friend of mine. I'd known her since we were children, and I was glad to receive an invitation to the big event. Besides, it gave me an excuse to buy myself a new dress.

      On the day, the guests all met in front of the church, and I enjoyed meeting her family again, as well as some of her friends and relatives who were new to me. The weather was perfect for the occasion, and everyone was in a tremendously good mood. It looked like being a day to remember.

      After some delay, we were ushered inside and the ceremony got underway. That was when I notice for the first time that, in all the hurrying and excitement of the morning, I had neglected to use the toilet before coming. My situation was in no way serious; I was sure I would be able to last the hour or so I would be sitting and standing in the church, even though I really felt the urge to pee.

      The church, like most buildings of this kind, was cold, which didn't help. My dress was thin because it was summer, and outside the weather was warm. I shivered occasionally, not merely from being cold, but because the chill in the air made my muscles quiver a little.

      As the time passed, my need to pee gradually increased until, half an hour in to the ceremony I found myself wishing it would soon come to an end. My bladder felt very full now, and I sat there pressing my legs together to help me hold on. Whenever we all had to stand up, I had to really concentrate to make myself stand still. I kept my thighs clenched the whole time, squeezing them together as tightly as possible.

      Each time we sat again, it was a huge relief. By the third occasion, I was growing nervous and instinctively started to cross my legs. Then I remembered, just in time, that I mustn't do that in a church, so I made myself sit with my legs together, ptaying for a quick end to the service. But it was not to be.

      The preacher delivered a very long speech, droning on and on. I was no longer listening to anything he said. All I could think about was my aching bladder. I found it hard not to wiggle my legs, but I managed to resist the urge and just clenched my muscles shut, forcing myself to keep still and keep holding.

      The service went on much longer than I anticipated, and it was an hour and a half before the guests all rose and clustered around the exit, trying to get back out of the church into the warm sunshine. Progress was very slow, and this made my desperation even more urgent. Fortunately, I was now in the crowd and nobody noticed that, every time the line stopped, I crossed my legs and sometimes bent my knees to help me maintain control.

      At last, I was outside. Confetti was being thrown over the bride and groom, and I heard a chorus of voices wishing them well. I groaned inwardly because I would have to do the same before I could escape and find a toilet. As I waited in line for my turn, I discretely shifted my weight from foot to foot, wondering how much more of this torture I could bear. When my turn came at last, I managed to forget my need for a few seconds because I could see that my friend was deliriously happy about her wedding. I wished her, both of them, the very best for the future, and made a little small talk, but as soon as it was polite to move on I did so, anxious to find a place to pee before it was too late.

      I looked around, only to find out that there was no public toilet nearby. I had expected this because it was a very small town, but I still experienced a pang of dismay at having to hold on even longer. There was nothing else for it but to wait until we would reach the hotel where the reception party was being held..

      I did not drive myself to the wedding, so I had to spend time searching for my driver, hoping he would be ready to leave soon! But he wasn't even close to being ready because he had to take two boys with him, and was still looking for them. Walking around become necessary for me now because my sphincter muscle was really starting to tire. Moving my legs helped a bit, but I knew I would have to get to a toilet in the near future to avoid an accident.

      After what felt like forever, the boys were located and we all climbed in the car. I was glad to be able to sit in the front seat and not squashed in the back with the boys and tying to deal with my full bladder. Up front, I had enough space to change my position from time to time, lowering the pressure on my sphincter a bit. Sitting was a great relief, but looking down on my tummy, I could see that my dress had pulled really tight across my abdomen. That meant my bladder was absolutely full.

      We drove for about fifteen minutes. I chatted with the boys which helped to distract me a bit, but from time to time, a sharp urge hit me and I could not concentrate on talking. More and more now, I had to keep my legs in motion.

      It was a huge relief when we arrived at the hotel, but then I realized I would not be able to hurry inside. Some of the guest were already there, and the photographer was telling everyone to go to the carpark where he would take some group photographs. I felt a flutter of panic inside, wondering if I could bear another delay.

      I followed the others up the steps to the car park, and there I had to wait until everyone had arrived and taken their places. I swore to myself that I was so stupid not to go to the toilet before leaving home. Now I was forced to stand with my legs together, in full view of so many people, unable to squirm around too much. My muscles inside trembled with the effort of holding a bladder brimming with do much pee. I was now in a lot of pain between my legs, and all I could do was stand there and pretend that everything was alright.

      I started sweating, knowing that I couldn't cope with the terrible urge to pee much longer. I tried to turn one leg in a bit to press against my peehole, but it did not work very well. I seriously wondered if I would wet myself in front of all these people before I could get away. I was standing there imagining the humiliation when the photographer said "Cheese please." I would to say, "Excuse me, I have to go pee pee!"

      It was a horrifying thought, and not something I should have been thinking about at all. Unable to stop myself, I crossed my legs, still unable to believe that I had let myself get caught short this way.

      Beside me, an old woman I didn't knew fumbled in her bag and managed to drop her purse. She was about eighty years old, and I knew I had to pick it up for her. Holding my breath in anticipation of the sharp increase in pain, I bent down to grab it for her. I came so close to losing it then. Somehow, I managed to get up again and offered the purse back to the old lady, somehow without wetting myself, It had been a very close thing. I was truly bursting now, and knew I couldn't last much longer.

      The last of the wedding party finally arrived. Then I had to make myself stand still while the photographer took the pictures. Thank God it only took one or two minutes because I was at my absolutely limit now. I tried to climb down the steps to the hotel entrance as quickly as possible, but since these were only steps on this side of the building, a line of people was starting to form, delaying me yet again. I felt panic as my bladder throbbed for relief, but there was no way for me to hurry down the steps. I tried going down sideways, but the steps were wide, about 40 or 50 centimetres, and after the first one I had to accept that I couldn't do this in my condition; the leg on the upper step put too much pressure on my bladder, forcing me to press a hand against my peehole. I hoped it looked like I was trying to keep my dress down. Fortunately, the people around me seemed only to be concentrating on getting themselves down the steps and they didn't seem to notice me.

      Several times, I had to stop to wait until my turn to step down. As I stood there, I had to take my hand away from my peehole, but without this aid, I was forced to step from foot to foot to hold myself. I was frantic because I felt that I was going to wet myself if I didn't reach a toilet in the next minute. (I am able to calculate my bladder capacity very well).

      I tried to hurry to the entrance but I simply couldn't take such big steps. Forced to walk slowly, I had the greatest difficulty in looking composed in front of the people all around me. It was no good; I was absolutely on the limit and had to put my hands on my groin to prevent my bladder from being shaken. Every step was torture to my sphincter muscles and I was no longer sure that I could reach the toilet in time.

      Inside the hotel lobby, I looked around in panic, looking for the sign for the ladies. I spotted it and started lurching towards it. I really was about to wet myself now and was totally shocked when I stepped inside and found a few guests already waiting for a cubicle to become free.

      At once, I knew that waiting any longer was not an option. I walked back out of the toilet, saying to my friend's mother who was also inside, that I did not need to go that badly and would come back later. It must have looked well controlled to her, but in truth I was so desperate to pee that, for me, there was no possibility to wait any longer. I hobbled back outside where I returned to the carpark. I would have to pee there. It was my last chance to avoid wetting on my clothes.

      As soon as I was out of view of everyone else, I used my hand to hold myself. I wasn't wearing panties though, and I feared that if I lost a few drops, everybody would be able to see a wet patch on my dress. I fought so hard to keep my muscles shut a little longer, but I really didn't think I could manage it now that the pain had become unbearable. Every step pressed out a little drop. I couldn't wait a second longer. I quickly crouched down between the first two cars I reached, and at once my pee splashed on the ground. Had I been wearing panties, I think I would not have been able to keep them dry. Never in my life had I been I so close to wetting myself in front of so many people.

      After it was all over, I walked around outside for a few minutes to compose myself, and for the rest of the evening, I ran to the toilet every hour. I didn't feel safe about my bodily functions after this torture, and made sure to keep my bladder as empty as possible.

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