Linda Peterson hobbled from the ward and turned into the corridor leading to the loo. Her bladder was on the very verge of bursting, she had held her pee so long. It had to have been the busiest night shift she had ever done.

      The irony was that it wasn't even a real hospital, not in the traditional sense. Healthways was a private cottage hospital where the patients were perversely wealthy...and perverse in plenty of other ways too. She had trained as a nurse with the intention of doing well by her fellow humans, but the National Health Service required absurdly long hours, for so little pay! Healthways paid three times the salary, and most of the time the work was slight. Whenever her conscience began to smote her, she thought about the Porsche she now drove to and from work instead of the shitty old Capri that had been once her only form of transport, back in the bad old N.H.S. days.

      At Healthways, all she had to do was parade around for eight hours a day in a uniform that looked like it came straight from a fetish shop, wearing heels higher than any hospital administrator would deem proper. The job itself entailed little more than fuss over the patients, mostly elderly men, and flirt with them just enough to make them feel young and desirable again. Their ailments, such as they were, seldom amounted to anything more serious than a bruised libido.

      From time to time, however, a particularly demanding and difficult patient would check in for a week or two. The current difficult case was Fredrick Smith, a man who should have checked himself into a mental institution instead. He spoke of nothing except bondage and watching women piss themselves.

      Smith had spent a sleepless night trying to monopolize Linda's time, repeatedly calling for water, for a bedpan or fresh pillows, or for her to loosen the bed sheets. He complained of being too hot and demanded that she remove his pajama; then of being too cold and insisted that she put them back on for him again. Linda was tempted to return the favour by using a hypodermic needle to cause a pain in his arse. But she had managed to refrain from losing control of her temper in order to keep what was otherwise a cushy job.

      Right now, however, she was in danger of losing control of her bladder. She quickened her pace: just another twenty yards and she could dash into the ladies, lift the skirt of her uniform, tug down her tights and knickers and release her pee at last. She closed her eyes as the prospect of imminent relief almost made her wet herself.

      "Just a few more seconds," she whispered to herself, clenching her teeth as she tightened her abdominal muscles for the home straight.

      She arrived at the door and pushed on it urgently, only to find it unyielding. "Oh no," she gasped, immediately breaking into a pee dance. She hammered on the door. "Is someone in there?"

      "Yes," came a voice from the other side of the door.

      Linda frowned. It had been a man's voice. What was a man doing in the ladies loo? A quiver of apprehension ran down her spine, and she had to quickly clench her thighs together as her muscles slackened for a moment. It sounded like--?

      The door opened abruptly and Fredrick Smith emerged, stopping in the doorway and blocking her way. "Hello," he grinned.

      "Mr. Smith," Linda answered in a tight, shaking voice. "What on earth are you doing out of bed?"

      "Taking a leak, of course," Smith informed her, taking in her body as he continued to block the way into the lavatory.

      Linda did her best not to dance around in desperation. Making a Herculean effort to keep the strain out of her voice, she said, "You need to get back to bed, Mr. Smith."

      "Are you going to take me?" he wanted to know, leering at her now.

      "You found your way here, so I'm sure you can find your way back," Linda told him, barely able to resist the urge to cross her legs and bend at the waist.

      "But I want you to take me," Smith insisted.

      "Then you'll have to wait until I've been to the loo."

      "But I don't want to wait," Smith said.

      Linda felt her bladder muscles contract in an attempt to make her void. She squeezed her sphincter hard shut, straining so hard to keep her pee inside that she could hardly breathe, still less speak.

      "There's an unoccupied room just there," Smith added, indicating a door on the opposite side of the corridor. "I know. I was in there before I came in here."

      "Mr. Smith," Linda began assertively. "I want you to come out of there and go back to your room, now!"

      "I want to take you into that room there," Smith countered, taking a step towards her. Linda instinctively took a step back, and sensing that he had the upper hand, Smith rushed forward and wrapped his right arm around her body, pinning her arms to her sides. His left hand went to her mouth and clamped down hard, stifling the cry on her lips.

      Linda squirmed frantically, doing her best to kick Smith's shins, and then attempted to stamp down on one of his feet. He lifted her body so that her feet were several inches above the floor, rendering her struggles ineffective. She could do nothing to prevent him carrying her to the room across the corridor.

      Smith contrived to turn the door knob without letting go of his captive, then carried her inside and kicked the door shut behind them. The room was dark, and for some seconds Smith just stood there holding Linda around the body and keeping a hand pressed over her mouth.

      Linda kicked with her legs, terrified that she would start to pee herself at any moment. She was afraid, but she was also in a lot of pain. She had needed to urinate for hours and had put it off again and again. Her bladder couldn't take my more of this terrible pressure without physically bursting. She had to do something about it, and very, very soon.

      Smith managed to flick the light switch with his back before carrying the struggling Linda to the room's only bed. He forced her down onto it, still keeping a hand clamped over her mouth. He was deceptively strong and easily able to subdue her struggle to break free of his grip. From the bedside cabinet drawer, Smith took a roll of white surgical tape, used his teeth to tear off a strip, then just as he removed his hand from Linda's mouth, he slapped it across her lips and pressed it firmly against her skin.

      Smith then produced a length of blue cord from somewhere. Linda eyed it as she fought to reach the tape covering her mouth, desperate pull it away and call for help. It matched the Healthways color scheme, and she was fairly sure it was the kind of cord normally used to secure the top of the hospital's industrial-sized laundry bags.

      Smith was already ensnaring her right wrist with the stuff, and with renewed desperation, Linda fought Smith's attentions while keeping her thighs pressed together. Pee was beginning to trickle into her knickers, and she barely had the strength to stop it. God, she was so close to bursting her bladder.

      In less than a minute, Smith had her wrists bound behind her, and set about wrapping a second length of blue cord around her body, crushing her breasts as he pulled it tight. She frantically tried to roll away as he seized her feet and coiled cord around her ankles, then secured that bond to the cord encircling her chest, effectively hog-tying her.

      At last, he secured the final knot and straightened up, looking down at Linda: face down on the bed, bound, gagged and absolutely breaking her neck to go for a piss. She suddenly realized how vulnerable she was, stuck in a closed room with this obsessive man, aware that only one other nurse was on duty and it might be some little time before anyone would arrive to help her.

      Linda literally screamed through the tape covering her mouth, writhing her body, raising and lowering her head as she hurled abuse at Smith. He merely stood over her, smiling serenely. "Nice to have you where I want you at last, Nurse Peterson," he said in a soft, satisfied voice. "How is the bladder? A bit full?"

      Linda tried to scream again, and in response, Smith leaned in closer and rested a hand on her backside, his fingers spread to encompass most of the right cheek. "Perhaps this will help ease the pressure," he added in the same, soft voice as he closed his fingers, claw-like, and squeezed Linda's buttock with incredible force. She issued a muffled yelp, tipping her head back as far as it would go while simultaneously using her bound hands to try to pry Smith's squeezing fingers from her bottom.

      She was starting to piss with greater force, unable to resist the crushing pressure Smith was applying to her swollen bladder. She didn't understand how pressing on the back of her body could induce such a chronic desire to pee; she only knew that it did, and that it was excruciating.

      As a last resort, Linda pleaded for Smith to stop squeezing her, but of course the words were unintelligible. Her just massaged and pressed, gripped and squeezed, the pattern repeated over and over until, unable to withstand the assault any longer, Linda's tired sphincter gave way and pee gushed into her tights and knickers, soaking through the front of her uniform and spreading across the bed covers beneath her.

      She lay there pissing and pissing and pissing, unable to stop -- unable even to slow it down, thanks to Smith's tormenting hand. She felt him slide his fingers between her thighs from the back and press against her wet knickers, rubbing her gently as she went on emptying her bladder.

      Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "Very nice, Nurse Peterson. Very...wet."

      Linda released gasping breaths through her nose, part of her glad at the immense relief of having a deflated bladder at last. At the same time, her underwear and the skirt of her uniform were soaked with piss, and her limbs ached from being trussed up so firmly. She could find no slack in her bonds, and had no choice but to simply lay her head down on the bed and wait for Smith to untie her, now that he had achieved his objective.

      Smith, contrary to expectations, straightened up, withdrawing his hands and placing them behind his back. When Linda turned her head to regard him, he smiled again and said, "Well, I suppose I had better be getting back to my bed, before someone misses me. I shall see you later, Nurse Peterson."

      Linda couldn't believe what was happening. She stared after Smith's retreating back as he went to the door, then tried to call him back. He opened the door, then paused to look back at her.

      "Sweet, damp dreams," he said, just before stepping through into the corridor and closing the door behind him.

      Linda screamed through her gag, telling him to get the hell back into the room to untie her. She heard him whistling as he strolled back along the corridor, leaving her there to lay in her piss-soaked uniform until she was missed and someone finally thought to come looking for her.