Forced to PeebySadean©
"Do it!" the man screamed, thumbing back the hammer on his pistol, "piss yourself, right now!" Alice looked at the myriad of faces surrounding her through rapidly blurring eyes -- never in her darkest nightmares had she imagined such torture. She didn't want to do it (piss her skin-tight white jeans in front of the entire club) but the man's gleaming, deadly-looking pistol pointed directly at her face was a great motivator. She tried to relax, imagining that she was alone in the bathroom, she tried everything but her shy bladder wouldn't cooperate. Looking up -- only then realizing that she'd been staring at her crotch -- Alice stared at the man with tear-filled eyes, "please," she sobbed, "I can't do it..."
The gun roared and everyone, including Alice, jumped. "Yes, you can," the man said softly, his gun smoking, disintegrated drywall dust falling about his face, "you can, and you fucking will!" The lustful anger in his voice, and the unwavering gun held in his outstretched hand, said that he would accept nothing less. "Okay, you're shy, I get it...how about I help you out?" he smiled wickedly, "I'm going to give you to the count of five, and if I don't see a stream running down your legs by then, I'm going to shoot you in the head. How's that?"
Alice let out a shuddering sob of despair.
"One," the man said.
Alice tried her best, pushing for all she was worth, but it just wouldn't come -- it was as if there was an invisible catheter, preventing her from controlling her own body.
She began to shake, fear overriding all else in her mind. No longer did she wonder why everyone was just standing around, pointing, laughing; no longer did she wonder why no one had called the police, or did anything to intervene; she didn't ask because she knew the answer -- they wanted to see it too!
"Please no, please no, please no," she chanted under her breath.
"Four," his voice echoed ominously in the silent club.
All of a sudden there was a pattering noise, which gradually grew to a loud splash in conjunction with a feeling of warmth in her groin. Alice looked down to see the front of her white jeans darken as her urine saturated them, and then began to drip through in a steady stream onto the floor; inadvertently, her hands flew to her crotch, attempting to cover the embarrassing yellow stain. Her face flushed red and her pent-up tears let out.
"Move your hands!" the man's voice came again.
Alice barely understood.
"Yeah, move your hands!" a new voice said. "Let's see that pissy pussy of yours!" ventured a third. Soon, the entire collection of people were shouting out vile comments and crude threats; they varied greatly, from comments calling her a baby, all the way to violent threats -- things the owners were going to do to her for peeing on their floor.
Alice unconsciously adopted a pose that she'd used her whole life: her index finger touching her upper lip, which was peeled back in a horrified grimace, her other hand remaining over her crotch; the only thought bouncing about in her horrified mind was the truth of the old saying "pissing your pants will only keep you warm for so long."
She remembered the last time she'd wet herself -- she'd been drunk, 18, and at a party -- and she remembered the humiliation; this time, however, it was much worse.
"Looks like somebody had too much to drink," a man's voice called out, to a round of laugher. "I can't believe she's still going!"
And indeed, she did; she peed for what felt like an eternity before the strong stream of urine slowed, and then tapered off. The room was eerily silent. The front of Alice's pants was soaked, the yellow wetness travelling down the back of her pants, pooling about her ankles; Alice's legs were cold, especially where her jeans had become plastered to them. "Very good," the man with the gun said softly. "You really pissed like a racehorse," he lowered the gun, "You really did have too much to drink."
Then there was a bright flash; then another, and another. Alice didn't realize what it was at first, but slowly, with a growing sense of horror, she realized that the flashes were coming from cameras. Only a few at first, but increasing as the seconds ticked on -- tens, no, hundreds of pictures were being taken. It took all Alice had to remain standing where she was -- in a pool of her own cooling urine -- and face the crowd. She desperately wanted to leave, to run away and never leave her apartment again...but the gun, she couldn't move while the gun was pointed at her.
The pictures stopped. The man put his gun away.
"I don't think I'll need that anymore," he said, "because you're not going anywhere, are you?"
Alice didn't understand. "What?" she mumbled, her voice low and ashamed.
"You're not going anywhere until you pay your debt," the man's face pulled back in his horrible grin. "You owe the owners of this fine establishment for ruining their carpet with your piss."
The crowd began to voice their support, "Yeah," echoed the popular reply, "you owe them. You gotta pay your debt!"
The man nodded his head emphatically to each cry. "You will pay your debt, or these pictures -- hundreds of pictures -- will find their way onto the internet tonight. You don't want the world to know what a piss slut you are?" he asked her, rhetorically.
Alice shook her head.
"That's what I thought; so you're saying you will pay your debt?"
"No matter how much it is?"
Again, a nod.
"Good. I think it's time we ask the owners what they think is fair compensation. Owners?"
Two men came forward, pushing their way through the crowd to stand beside the man. One of them, a short fat man, spoke for them both.
"We got a job where you can pay us back," he said. "It's in the back..."
Alice nodded her head in silent agreement.
* * *
The crowd had all gone and the place was quiet at last. The only people to remain were the owners, and the man with the gun. After all the last minute tasks were done, and the place was ready to close, they met up together, beers in hand.
"Well guys, what do you think, should we check up on our new girl?" the man with the gun said, drinking deep from his Rolling Rock.
"I'm up for it -- it's been what, three hours since we put her in?" the fat owner replied. "Let's go!"
Walking quickly, they passed the spot where Alice had been forced to piss earlier in the evening. It'd been scrubbed down by the hapless girl before they took her to her job, but there still was a stain on the carpet.
"I'm thinking you'd better keep her there for a while," gun man said, "she really did a number on your floor."
The owners merely nodded in agreement.
Passing the spot, they made their way down a hallway marked "Washrooms," until they came upon the men's room. Opening the door, they stepped into the filthy room.
Inside it was dark, cold and damp, and Alice was sitting on the floor, her arms and legs spread and handcuffed to metal rails on either side. Her head was propped up, a black funnel tapped to it. Her eyes were filled with terror and disgust, and another emotion that the men found surprising: helpless arousal.
As they approached, she jerked her head up and began to struggle, the chains holding her in place jingling loudly, eliciting a round of chuckles from the men.
"Don't think you're getting out of those without a key," the fat owner said.
"Looks to me like you actually like it there," the other owner added, and they all laughed again. "That's good, you're gonna be there for at least two weeks!"
Alice's face -- what little could be seen around the funnel -- became filled with despair, and her shoulders sunk.
Seeing this, the man with the gun said, "Aww, it's not that bad -- in fact, I think you secretly like it."
She shook her head vehemently, but that look was there again -- she couldn't hide it from them.
"You can't fool us, darling."
"I think I know what to do," gun-man said. "I think it's time for us to christen your new urinal," he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, "open wide, sweetie!" He let out a stream of pee that was dark yellow, and strong, catching the unfortunate Alice off guard; she spluttered for breath, swallowing the urine as quickly as she could in order to get in a good breath.
"Better get used to that," the fat man said, "you're gonna have to deal with a lot more the next coming weeks."
Alice lost herself in her suffering, grimly concluding that she was going to have to learn to enjoy the taste of piss...comforting herself with the fact that she wasn't their new toilet...not yet anyways...