Yvonne On Hold


Written by David North

      Emboldened by my experiences with Julia, I decided to take a chance when I began dating someone new. Her name was Yvonne, a pretty brunette in her mid-twenties. Her personality could certainly be described as outgoing, which I suppose was just what I needed to get me out of a serious frame of mind regarding relationships, at least for a while.

      The thing that alerted me to the possibility that Yvonne might not be averse to a little hold it game was her complete lack of embarrassment when she needed to loo. She would not try to conceal the fact, but make an announcement, and then report at frequent intervals on how she was doing. I have no idea whether or not she picked up on my interest somehow, but since she didn't seem to mind, I made playful attempts to stop her reaching the loo when she was getting desperate. She, in turn, played up to this and made remarks like, "Stop it, Dave, or I'll go in my knickers," or "Anyone would think you really wanted me to wet myself." I intimated once or twice that perhaps I really did. She laughed these remarks off, but perhaps she suspected my deeper interest in her fairly regular predicaments.

      The test came after an evening at a fancy-dress party where she went in a black corset-dress, very short indeed, and a pair of black heels. The corset even had suspender clasps, which somehow heightened her sexuality even farther. She had downed a few drinks and then announced that she was off to the loo because she was "about to pop" as she put it. She disappeared through the crowd and I thought that was that, but two minutes later she was back wearing a somewhat pained expression.

      "What's up?" I asked her, seeing that something was amiss.

      "Would you believe it, they've only got one loo for the women, and there's a queue of about thirty waiting to go in. I'd have to stand there for at least half an hour, and I don't think I can manage that." As if you reinforce the point, she briefly raised her left knee, then stood with her thighs pressed together. "Would you mind very much if we left and went back to your place?"

      "No, that's fine," I agreed. "I think I've had enough booze and noise for one evening," I added, aware that I was starting to sound like some sad old fart who can't take it any more.

      Yvonne looked relieved. "Good. Thanks," she said, and seemed a little less anxious now.

      "Of course, the loo may not be available right away at my place either," I added, surprising myself as much as her with my remark. I suppose it was mostly fueled by the drink I'd consumed, plus my experiences with Julia and Amanda.

      "What do you mean?" Yvonne asked, giving me a searching stare as she stood there shifting her weight from foot to foot.

      I contrived a casual shrug, although my blood was now pounding in my ears and my old friend erectus membra was beginning to pay attention to the proceedings. "Oh," I began, "I might decide to tie you up when I get you home and make you hold it for a while."

      Yvonne regarded me with a deep frown, clearly trying to decide if I was serious. At last, she said, "Are you drunk?"

      "Drunk on your sexy outfit," I rejoined.

      She smiled uncertainly, and I noticed her knee bend again. She was obviously having trouble just standing there, and she had to be fairly desperate to pee. "Can we go now?" she asked then with just a trace of urgency in her voice.

      "Why not?" I said, and led the way to the exit.

      It was mid-summer, and yet the evening was cool. I was dressed in a ridiculous Buster Keaton suit and was therefore warm enough, but Yvonne's legs and arms were exposed. I saw her hunch her shoulders as she shivered, either from stepping out into the cool air of because the cool air was heightening her need to empty her bladder.

      Once we were outside and alone, Yvonne said, "What did you mean back there? About tying me up? Were you joking?"

      "Yes, although if you're asking mer if I really would like to tie you up, then yes I would."

      "Oh," she said, rather non-plussed by this information. As we approached the car, she resumed, "You mean you enjoy bondage?"

      "To my shame, I do," I admitted. "I also like watching you dancing around because you need the loo."

      "What? But why?"

      "Don't know really. I've been turned on by stuff like that since i was a kid. Can't do much about it. However," I said in a more careless manner, "I would never force either of my interests on a girl if she wasn't interested."

      I unlocked the Rover and let her climb in, noticing that she immediately pressed her knees together and cupped her palms around them. Another of the signs I'd come to recognize when a women is struggling with an uncomfortably full bladder. With Mr. Membra stiffening with every step, I circled the vehicle and go it behind the steering wheel.

      As I drove home, a journey of around ten minutes, Yvonne chattered more or less incessantly, perhaps trying to take her mind off her desire to pee. I thought she was going to deliberately avoid the subject of my little perversions, but a minute away from the house, she suddenly said, "I suppose I don't mind."

      "Don't mind what?"

      "Letting you tie me up if you want to, but I would rather go to the loo first. It's pretty urgent now."

      "Thanks," I said warmly, and shot her a grateful smile. "I know it's hard to consider waiting when you're dying for a pee, but it would mean a lot to me if you would let me keep you waiting a bit longer."

      She leaned forward in her seat, one hand resting against the abdomen, the other pressing against her crotch. Then her breath caught in her throat and she quickly crossed her legs. "I don't know, David," she said after a few more moments. "I really don't think I can last any longer."

      As soon as I brought the Rover to a halt in the driveway, Yvonne unbuckled her seat belt and climbed out, her body slightly bent to help mitigate the pressure around her abdomen. As I followed her to the front door, I toyed briefly with the idea of making her keeping her waiting on the doorstep, as I'd done to several women before her, but then i decided instead to let her in.

      She had been to the house once before and seemed to remember that the toilet was upstairs. She hobbled to the foot of the stairs and began to climb them. When she was about three steps up, she stopped to look back at me, the toe of her right shoe raised in the air so that she could pivot her leg back and forth on her heel. She swallowed hard before she said, "Do you really want to tie me up like this?"

      I nodded. "It turns me on," I informed her.

      She considered for a second, pulling a face which spoke of her bladder-throbbing discomfort. Then she shook her head and resumed climbing the stairs.

      "What if I beg?" I called after her, arresting her progress for the second time.

      "What?" she asked distractedly, bending her knees now as she stood there looking down at me.

      "I'll get down on my knees and beg for your permission to tie you up with a full bladder."

      She forced a grin. "How can you tie me up with a full bladder?" she asked, sounding perfectly serious. "Aren't you supposed to use rope for that?"

      "Oh, humour. It can't be as bad as all that then?"

      "It is," she insisted. "I'm really dying to go to the loo."

      "What about if I tie you up for just five minutes, then take you to the loo, with your hands still tied, and help you with your knickers?"

      "I can't wait another five minutes," she said, forcing her words through a tight moan.

      "Go on," I urged. "You might surprise yourself."

      "Or injure myself. I've been holding it for ages, and I'm really full."

      "Tell you what," I said as she starting climbing towards the landing again. "If you do it, I'll get tickets for that Dido concert that you said you'd really like to go to.

      She stopped on the landing, leaning forward as she rested hand on the railing. Through the slats, I saw her cross her legs. "You pig," she told me. "You know bloody well I really want to go to that concert, as well as to the loo."

      "Is it a deal?"

      "There you go with that deal thing again."

      "Is it?" I persisted.

      She puffed out her cheeks as she began to seriously dance on the landing. "You really promise you'll take me?" she asked.

      I had her. "I promise," I said.

      "Oooooooh," she groaned as she curtsied several times in rapid succession. "Really?"

      "Really."

      "The concert's in Edinburgh. It would mean a long trip, and the tickets aren't cheap."

      "I know. I'll pay."

      She hesitated again, gazing longingly at the bathroom door, then reluctantly nodded her head.

      "Great!" I said excitedly, bouncing up the stairs two at a time to join her before she could change her mind. "I've got some rope in the bedroom," I informed her, taking hold of her arm to make sure she didn't dashed into the bathroom as we passed it.

      "I won't ask what it's doing there," she remarked, her voice tightening again with the strain of holding on to a bladder literally brimming over with piss. "Oh, Dave, if I let you do this--."

      "You've already agreed," I pointed out.

      "Alright, but promise me you won't make me wait for long. I really am in agony."

      I gave her cheek a quick peck and whispered, "I'm really grateful."

      "You didn't promise," she pointed out as I took several coils of rope from the bottom drawer of my bedside cabinet where I also kept two pairs of genuine police handcuffs. I was tempted to produce those and use them too, but then decided the sight of metal bracelets might really alarm Yvonne and send her scuttling to the toilet.

      I bound her wrists behind her back as she stood there gyrating and gasping. I secured her wrists, then wound more rope around her waist and secured it around her elbow, pulling them together and effectively imobilising her arms. "What are you doing?" she protested as I secured the knots.

      "Making sure you don't wriggle free," I said.

      "Oh, this feels so funny," she remarked, "having my hands tied behind me, especially while I'm dying for the loo."

      "You look great," I told her, my eyes transfixed by the way she was alternately pacing and dancing now.

      "I don't feel great," she replied. "I feel bloated and very uncomfortable. How long are you going to make me wait?"

      "Not long," I promised, keeping my reply sufficiently vague - not long could mean anything from a few minutes to perhaps a quarter of an hour.

      Yvonne continued squirming, occasionally sucking in air between clenched teeth, some of the time with her eye closed, no doubt to aiud her concentration. After barely more than a minute of this, she asked, "That's enough. Let me go to the loo now, or I really will start wetting myself."

      "Oh no, not yet," I objected. "I haven't finished typing you up yet."

      "What?" she demanded with sudden panic, her eyes wide as she regarded me.

      "I'm going to tie rope around your ankles too," I explained.

      "Oh no. No. You can't do that. If I stand still, I'll lose it. Honestly, I will. You have to let me go now."

      "Concert tickets," I reminded her.

      She let out a frustrated gasp. "I know, but I really can't keep holding it like this, Dave. I'll do myself an injury in a minute."

      "No you won't," I soothed. "Come on, let me do it and get it out of my system, then ytou can go."

      A deep, unsteady sigh, then, "Oh, alright, just hurry up will you."

      "Of course," I said, advancing on her with more rope in my hand. I dropped to my knees in front of her dancing feet, and began attached the rope, first to her right ankle, then to the left, leaving about a one-foot length of rope between them. I then ran some more rope from the mid-point of this one-foot length and fed it up to her bound wrists. She could still move her legs, but she was now partially restricted. The overall effect was just so sexy and stimulating.

      Regarding puckered, tortured features, I taunted, "Is that comfortable?" I asked.

      "Oh, shut up," she retorted, doing her best to keep her legs moving with the encumrance of the additional rope. "Oh God, God, God! I need to go so badly, Dave. If you touched my stomach, it would just go pop."

      "Really? Let me try that," I offered.

      "Keep away!" she warned, trying to maintain distance between us. "If you mess around with me, I really will wet myself. I'm absolutely serious!"

      "Better and better," I added.

      "Oh! you're such a sadist. I don't want to wet myself, so will you please let me go to the loo!"

      "Not yet."

      "You promised!" she snapped with mounting irritation.

      "Not yet," I repeated firmly.

      "Look, Dave, I'm in a lot of pain, and I don't want it to go on any longer. I have to go to the loo. Now! Please."

      "You can go soon."

      "That won't be soon enough," she croaked, her voice so strained now that her words were barely intelligible. "I can't hold it any longer."

      "Just another couple of minutes," I insisted.

      "No," she retorted. "I can't."

      If you're going to keep complaining, then I shall be compelled to gag you," I said with a stiff-upper-lip accent.

      "Don't you dare," she warned. "Ooooh, let me go now. Oh, please let me go."

      "Okay, I warned you," I said, taking a scarf from the wardrobe.

      "No, Dave," she admonished. "I mean it. I need the loo now. Now! I'm about to wet myself."

      "Sorry. Not quite yet," I said as I out-maneuvred her and moved behind her back. I had the scarf around her head and cleaving her teeth before she could do anything to stop me. She issued muffled protests as I secured the scarp at the base of her neck, breaking into a truly frantic if restricted pee dance now.

      Yvonne made some protest, but her words were too muffled for me to make out clearly. I thought I caught the word bursting somewhere in the middle of the sentence. When she realized that I wasn't understanding her, she let out a furious bark. It was perfectly clear to me that she was really struggling now, and I knew she really couldn't last much longer. I settled down to just watch her fight the urge to pee until it overwhelmed her, and out of the blue it suddenly occurred to me that I had a camcorder downstairs and that I could be videoing this. I knew if I did that Yvonne would probably never speak to me again, but I simply had to do it.

      I left her wiggling and mmmphing after me as I went downstairs to retrieve my video camera. I knew she'd be furious, but I couldnit resist. I switched it on and saw that the battery still had about twenty minutes of life in it. I ran back upstairs, powering the thing up as I went, and as soon as I rejoined Yvonne, I pointed the lens in her direction and pressed the record button. She looked utterly mortified.

      Had she been able, I dare say she would have stood there trying to look nonchalant, perehaps even contemptuous of the whole thing, but her bladder was far too full for that kind of deception. She couldn't keep still for a second. She turned to face the wall, her back to the camera, and stood bending her right knee, raising her foot and tugging against the ropes holding her legs. She continuously made that sound of sucking air between clenched teeth, the sound only partially muted by the scarp. She had to be right on the edge.

      Going out of her mind with desperation, Yvonne dropped to her knees and made a half-hearted attempt to free her ankles, but she didn't seem able to concentrate on what she was doing. She knelt there facing the wall, raising one foot in a rhythmic wiggling motion as she struggled to maintain control of her bladder.

      Then, quite suddenly, her body spasmed violently and she issued a part-angry, part-resigned grunt through her gag. Then the hissing sound started, and a moment later I saw pee listening on her thighs as she knelt there and wet herself all over my bedroom carpet. I can't considered that aspect of it, imagining that i would get her to the bathroom before she finally let it go, but now that she was going, I didn't intend to interfere. I just let her go until she completely relieved herself. Even then, she continued kneeling in the same position, kneeling on the damp carpet, her brow pressed against the wall, her breathing now deeper and slower.

      I finally stopped the camera and hunkered down beside her. "Bad girl," I said, keeping my voice light to make sure she knew I wasn't actually annolyed with her. "Now you've got me so excvited, I'm going to have to give you the seeing-to of your life."

      She turned her head to regard me with expressionless eyes. She made an effort to swallow despite the gag in her mouth, closed her eyes and then gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. I reached out and brushed her hair from her face, then leaned in and kissed her cheek just about the line of the scarf. "And you know what, it will all be for you. Anything you want. You've earnt it."

      I released the gag and pulled it free of her mouth. She swallowed again, then said, "I'm sorry about your carpet, but it's your own--?"

      "Don't worry about it," I interrupted her. "It was worth it."

      "You're such a bloody pervert," she observed, not altogether unkindly.

      "Guilty as charged."

      She sighed and resumed, "Well, untie me then. I need to have a bath, and you can give it to me."

      "Pleasure."

      "Then we'll see about the rest of it."

      Once she was clean and refreshed, her spirits lifted and the rest of it turned out to be pretty good.