Housewife

Jennifer struggled against her bonds, but there was no escape. Sweating slightly from her excursions she lay there, panting and stared up from her living room floor. She was bored of doing dishes every day and had wanted more excitement in her life, so her husband suggested joining the local swingers club. She was intrigued, but she hadn’t quite expected this. The meal had gone down great. She had cooked a grand feast for George her husband, and Tom and his wife Pat. There had been lots of wine on offer, which admittedly she had consumed quite heavily to calm her nerves.
Now her husband had whisked Pat up to the bedroom and Jennifer had been left handcuffed on the carpet. What’s more she was beginning to wish that she had made use of the bathroom before holding out her hands for the handcuffs. She had not expected to be left bound for quite so long.
In the on–suite bathroom upstairs Jennifer’s husband was being enthusiastically bound to the toilet. Tom watched his wife’s rope work approvingly.
“So George,” he asked “are you sure your wife is OK down there all chained up?”
“Oh she’ll love it,” replied George, “she just doesn’t know it yet. Anyway she knows that she can end it at any time.”
“Great, she should be filling up nicely by now.”
“Yeah after all that wine she drank this evening you shouldn’t have long to wait. Have a look on my PC. I’ve got some great stuff in the folder marked wet wife.”
There were footsteps on the stairs now. Jennifer was nervous, wondering what Tom had in store for her next. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and the tension within her only served to heighten the strain on her bladder.
“Hello Jennifer,” grinned Tom staring down at the helpless housewife. “They are getting on famously upstairs.”
“Say, I go and freshen up now and slip into something more sexy?” suggested Jennifer.
Tom looked considering down at his captive. She was wearing a long summer dress. White with pale blue flowers and low cut to reveal a deep cleavage and the tops of her frilly white bra cups.
“You wearing panties?” he inquired.
“Boring cotton ones,” she confirmed. “Let me go and I’ll slip into some sexy silk ones for you,” she offered.
“Are they tight?”
Jennifer nodded.
“Then they will do fine for me,” he enthused as he helped her to gulp down the last of a good bottle of Chardonnay and left her there with her head starting to spin in an alcoholic haze.
He left her for a whole hour. Jennifer struggled and squirmed, the only thing running through her mind now being how desperately she needed the toilet. Even with the ankle cuffs Jennifer had managed to cross her legs to some extent, and was lying there with her thighs locked when Tom suddenly appeared at the living room door.
“Oh Tom,” Jennifer pleaded. “I need to go and freshen up, you can chain me up again afterwards if you like…”
“What do you mean by freshen up?” Asked Tom, forcing her to be more explicit.
“Look, I need to go to the bathroom, I have been needing to go for the last hour.”
“Then you will have to ask my permission,” demanded Tom.
“Ask your permission,” gasped Jennifer. “But this is my house.”
“And tonight you are my slave, now I’m going back upstairs until you learn to respect me as your master.” With that Tom strode from the room.
Jennifer was dumbfounded. For a moment she forgot the painful throbbing under her panties, but soon enough that all came back with a vengeance.
“OK Tom,” Jennifer called up the stairs. “You are my master tonight. Please let me go.” There was no answer.
“Please I need to go to the bathroom now!” She shouted, really fearful now that she was about to have an accident all over her living room carpet. Tears of desperation were running down Jennifer’s face. “Please,” she called out again, and when she opened her eyes Tom was standing there.
“You have something to ask me slave?”
“Please Tom I really, really need to go to the loo.”
Tom looked down at her, his face showing no pity but a bulge in his trousers betraying the simple fact that Jennifer’s predicament was really turning him on.
“Please Master, I am absolutely busting for a wee. I’ll do anything you want just let me go to the loo.” Jennifer’s two round pleading eyes stared up at him, watering in desperation.
“And if I don’t let you go, then you will still do whatever I want, slave.”
“But I would wet myself,” begged Jennifer. There, she had said it. She had openly admitted that she was on the verge of disgracing herself.
“Mmm, you would be a very naughty girl if you wet yourself,” considered Tom.
“But I would make a big mess!” almost cried Jennifer.
“But you have already made a big mess!”
“I haven’t!” cried Jennifer, looking down at the carpet in alarm.
“Yes you have, your husband told me. In the kitchen, dirty pans all over the place,” scorned Tom, reminding Jennifer that she hadn’t had time to wash up after dinner.
Tom unlocked Jennifer’s ankles. Jennifer thought that he was letting her go to use the bathroom, but instead of leading her upstairs he led her straight to the kitchen. She stood there hopping from foot to foot, chained to the sink by her waist with her hands under a blanket of warm soapy bubbles.
“A slave should know how to clean up after herself,” instructed Tom as she stood there scrubbing. He ran more hot water into the sink for her. She thanked him, but the sound of the running water was doing nothing to ease her desperation.
“You can go after you have finished the dishes,” promised Tom. Jennifer clamped down hard with her thighs. She was determined to make it, but it had been a large meal and there was so much to do.
Jennifer felt the first dribble escape as she was scrubbing the frying pan. She felt the warm trickle running down her right leg, right the way down to her knee. She clamped down hard, one foot across the other and clenched her teeth, hoping that Tom had not noticed. Her panties were getting quite damp now. Warm and damp with the first seeping of her own urine.
Once the dishwater had gone brown and greasy Tom moved in close and pulled the plug, rinsed the sink and refilled it with more hot water and plenty of soap. As the water cascaded noisily into the empty sink Tom snuggled against Jennifer’s neck. He ran is tongue over her neck and breathed delicately on her ear. Such a lovely warm sensation, Jennifer’s body trembled with pleasure, and she let out an unintentional gasp as a short hot jet of urine gushed into her panties.
“What’s wrong, Jennifer my lovely slave?” Enquired Tom in a concerned voice. Jennifer did not answer, but Tom had a fair idea. His prick was standing really rigid inside his trousers now.
“What’s wrong Jennifer?” He enquired again, and bent down to gently lift the hemline of her long loose dress. Jennifer’s dribble this time had made it past her knee, and was running down her bare leg right the way to her ankle. Another spurt escaped her as he watched and ran down the side of her tight black shoe.
“Jennifer, you’re making a little puddle,” exclaimed Tom playfully.
“I told you I needed the bathroom,” complained Jennifer.
“Such disgrace in my presence must be severely dealt with,” chastised Tom regaining his masterly voice. “Come with me,” he ordered as he unchained her from the sink.
Cuffing both hands in front of her again he stood her in the middle of her kitchen. Jennifer was unashamedly dancing from foot to foot now– doing a full on pee dance that was making Tom’s penis throb.
“Try holding yourself,” Tom suggested. Jennifer pressed her handcuffed hands between her legs as she bent over in desperation. Straightening up again there was a visible wet patch where Jennifer had pressed her dress against her wet panties.
“You’ve wet your dress you naughty slave,” chastised Tom at the sight of the disgraceful pee patch.
“Please let me go to the toilet now?” meekly pleaded Jennifer. Her tears of desperation were making trails through the mascara on her cheeks.
Instead he bent her roughly over her kitchen table. Jennifer nearly lost it there and then.
“Naughty slaves need punishing,” pronounced Tom rubbing his hand across Jennifer’s bottom. He could feel the hemline of her tight panties through the thin material of her dress and it felt wonderful.
“No,” pleaded Jennifer “I can’t hold it any longer!” She was trembling as Tom’s hand caressed her bottom and bit her lip as another long spurt escaped from her damp pussy. This one ran all the way down her left leg and she could feel the spreading warmth around her foot and inside her shoe. Jennifer hurriedly kicked her shoes off. It was inevitable now.
Even though expected, the first slap on her bottom came as a shock– then the second and the third. It was too much. Jennifer exploded into her panties. Piss gushed through the tight material and cascaded down the back of her legs, hot and fragrant. In an instant a great streak had soaked down the back of Jennifer’s dress. Tom smacked again and again as a great warm pool of wee puddled around her bare feet. She was totally wetting herself as she clamped hold of the far side of the kitchen table, completely disgracing herself.
Jennifer winced with one final firm slap on her quivering bottom. Never before had she been forced to relieve herself in such a way, and she was surprised at how horny she was starting to feel. Tom pulled out a chair for her and she slumped down onto it, still weeing steadily and feeling her wee creep warmly around her bottom. She leaned back and sighed with the sound of her wee splattering from her chair. She needed pleasure, so she spread her legs and rubbed herself as best she could with her hands still cuffed. She was managing to make the front of her dress really wet with wee as she frigged through the soaked material of her dress and her panties, but by now she didn’t care. It was an orgasm that she craved for now. Of course Tom could not have been happier to give her a helping hand.
Aaron