The Endless Exam

Laura, an ambitious young woman, had decided to expand her skills by taking night classes at her local college to obtain a diploma in business studies, a qualification which would enable her to go after a more demanding and better–paid job than the tedious office assistant style stuff she was doing at present. Night classes took their toll, however. Starting at six p.m., she had very little time to get across town from work and rarely arrived in the classroom on time. She hated being late, and besides, her repeated late arrivals were beginning to irritate her tutor, Dr. Edwin White.
Laura was late again this evening because her idiot boss had insisted on having her finish redesigning the filing system, not that the old fool would ever be able to find anything without someone to hold his hand. Laura did not appreciate being used as a dog’s body when she was capable of so very much more. As soon as she gained her diploma, she would be on her way to better things.
The situation was exacerbated still further today because White was setting the end–of–term examination, a two–hour–long paper scheduled to start at six.
After searching for several minutes for a place to park, Laura found a spot just beyond the archway at the edge of campus. She ran all the way across the car park and through the front entrance in her high heels, aware that she really needed to use the ladies’ before she went into the exam room. But she was already late. Damn, damn, damn!
She hurried to the ground floor toilets, only to find them closed for daily cleaning. “Great bloody timing,” she muttered under her breath as she hurried up the stairs. Perhaps there was still just time to visit the loos on the first floor before going in. That meant going past the door into the exam room, and it was just her bad luck that White stuck his head out into the corridor just as she was passing.
“There you are, Miss Sutton. We’re waiting for you. Do you realize you’re holding up the commencement of the exam?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I just have to––”
“Well come in and take your seat,” White interrupted.
Laura offered him a pained expression. “I just need to go to the loo first.”
“Then you’ll have to get here on time, won’t you,” White snapped.
“I’ll only be a minute,” Laura pleaded.
“If you don’t take your place now, Miss Sutton, I shall start the exam without you.”
Laura wanted to tell the old sod exactly what she thought of him, but bit her tongue and stepped past him into the room. That’s that then, she told herself. I’ll just have to hold it.
White started the exam almost at once, giving her no time to reconsider. A hush fell over the room, the earlier murmur of voices replaced by the hustle of papers being turned. Laura reviewed all of the questions too: there were ten in total, and a quick glance at each suggested that she knew enough to do well. Her only problem was going to be one of concentration as she was forced to sit there nursing an uncomfortably full bladder for two hours. She didn’t dare think about the kind of state she would be in by eight o’clock. Instead, she did her best to ignore the signals from her bladder and got down to work on answering question one.
By the time she started answering question four, Laura began stealing furtive glances at her watch. It was six–forty. She was on schedule to finish the entire paper. At the same time, part of her longed for the time to pass quickly so that she would finally be able to release her pee. The pressure around her abdomen had grown substantially in the last few minutes, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. She squeezed her thighs together, tightening her muscles to help ward off the urgency of her desire.
Squeezing her legs together helped for a while, but before the first hour was up, Laura had started involuntarily bouncing her knees up and down as she tapped her heels on the floor. Becoming aware that the tapping sound was audible in the almost silent room, she was forced to desist and bounce her heels without actually letting the heels of her shoes touch the floor. God, she was bursting to go. How in the world was she going to be able to hold it for another hour?
Question six was torture. Rather, the solution was fairly easy since Laura really knew the material, but she could glean no pleasure from her accomplishments with her abdomen pulsing as if someone were using it for a snare drum. She was going out of her mind with desperation and she really, really had to do something about it. More than anything, she longed to leave the room and hobble along the corridor to the loo. The thought of lifting up her skirt and dragging her knickers down so that she could release all that pent–up pee was both compelling and distracting. It was doing nothing to help her hold on, however, and she pushed the vision away before she started to wet herself where she sat.
Despite her legs being completely visible to anyone who cared to look, she had come to the point where she had no choice other than the push her left hand down between her clenched thighs and press on her crotch with her first and middle fingers. Laura rocked gently as she pushed, hardly aware of what she was doing, and almost to the stage where she didn’t care. It wasn’t right to make her sit there in agony with a full bladder. White could easily have postponed the start of the exam by a couple of minutes, and tacked them on at the end of the two hours. But no, the old bastard was just being vindictive.
Laura glanced up and found White standing at the front of the classroom watching her. Had that been a fleeting smile on his lips as their eyes met? He was more than thirty feet away, so she could not be sure. Was he actually enjoying her predicament? It certainly looked that way. The old pervert.
Laura was just about to turn her attention back to her paper when she caught movement in the corner of her eye. To her left, one of the other examinees had raised a hand. What was her name? Sarah? No, Sheila. Noticing her, White walked between the rows of desks and leaned close to hear what she had to say. Laura couldn’t catch the words, but judging by the way Sheila was sitting, she was having a problem with her bladder too. Laura watched as White straightened up, shaking his head to signify no. “Oh, please,” she heard Sheila say in a loud whisper.
“I’m sorry,” White answered and marched back to the front of the classroom. Laura watched his retreating back resentfully, wishing she could stab something sharp between his shoulder blades. He was clearly enjoying the power to make his students wait for the loo, blaming it on exam conditions. She was so tempted to just get up and walk out, but if she did she would have to retake this exam next summer, severely delaying getting her diploma and moving on to a better–paid job. She hated to admit it to herself, but she had no choice but to wait and finish the exam.
A few minutes later, Laura happened to glance across at Sheila. The girl was wearing figure–hugging jeans that must have been tight across her abdomen and adding to her discomfort. Sheila chose that moment to undo the waistband button of her jeans and partially unzip them. She was clearly in serious trouble, perhaps even worse than Laura herself. Sheila had her legs tightly crossed and was swinging them from side to side in a rhythmic motion. She also kept her head down so that her face was hidden behind a curtain of black hair. Laura wondered if the poor girl was blushing with embarrassment under there. It seemed more than likely.
Question seven. It was starting to feel like this exam would never end. Laura was literally trembling with the effort of keeping her muscles taut for so long, and she could feel sweat prickling on her scalp. Still another forty minutes. She was never going to make it. How could she hold on to a chronically overfilled bladder for so long? And even if she managed that feat, what would happen she finally had to stand up and try to get to the loo? She would surely piss herself in plain view of everyone. There seemed to be no way out of her predicament that would avoid humiliation.
The minutes crawled by and Laura tried incredibly hard to focus on writing out her answers, but maintaining control over the near–irrepressible urge to void her bladder was demanding more and more of her concentration. Even pressing on her crotch didn’t seem to make much difference now. Only sheer determination was preventing her from flooding her knickers and skirt, but she couldn’t keep it up much longer. She just couldn’t. Her back ached and her stomach felt bloated as if someone had filled it with gas. The pain came in sharp stabs as she fought one involuntary bladder contraction after another. She wondered if this was the kind of discomfort one had to endure during childbirth? If so, why the hell would any woman ever do it, or at least why would they do it twice?
Then it happened. Laura felt her muscles give way, just for a moment, but it was long enough to allow a jet of pee spray into her knickers. She heard herself gasp and, without pausing to think, pressed her knees hard together and rammed her free hand between the thighs again, pressing against her crotch with every last ounce of her strength. Somehow, she had managed to stem the flow, but only just…and there was still another twenty minutes to go. How on earth was she going to wait that long?
Ten minutes later, Laura was crossing and re–crossing her legs every minute or so, and unashamedly wiggling around on her chair, trying to press herself down onto its wooden surface as hard as she could. She no longer cared who knew that she needed to pee: If she tried to maintain her dignity by sitting still, she would quickly lose it by wetting herself. This, she decided, was the lesser of evils.
Question nine: she wasn’t quite going to finish the paper, but under the circumstances she thought she was doing pretty well. She was trying to make herself think through the logic of the problem, at the same time willing her out sphincter to remain shut, when she heard a cry of anguish to her left. Sheila stood up so quickly that she knocked her chair over backwards. Without pausing to right it, she made a doubled–up dash for the door, but it was too late. As she passed Laura’s desk, she could see the girl was already wetting herself. A dark stain was flaring around the crotch of her jeans and growing at an astonishing rate. By the time she had reached the corridor, her legs were already soaked in pee. Laura listened to the girl rushing off down the corridor, sobbing in abject misery. The humiliation she was feeling must be awful, Laura decided, and resolved that she would not let that happen to her. Whatever it took, she was going to hold on–whatever it took.
By the time only five minutes of the examination remained, however, Laura was on the verge of crying, her bladder ached and throbbed so intensely. She wasn’t even sure she could stand up now without wetting herself. She certainly couldn’t sit still, even for an instant. She crossed and re–crossed her legs several times per minute, and even jiggled the cheeks of her bottom, which made her body bounce up and down in tiny tremors. It was no longer possible to concentrate on the exam questions. Rather than wait until everyone else had finished and she got caught in the bottleneck that would form at the exit– Laura decided to leave now. There were only a few minutes to go anyway.
Her body shaking with the effort of accommodating her bulging bladder, Laura stood, lifted her jacket from the back of her seat and took up her handbag. She was on her way to the door when White called out loudly, “Miss Sutton, please bring your paper up to my desk before you leave, please.”
Laura froze– the old bastard! He could just as easily come and get her paper, especially since he knew she had to be bursting for a piss by this time. He was trying to delay her, she was sure of it; trying to make her humiliate herself like poor Sheila. Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Clenching her tired muscles in one last bid to control herself, Laura snatched up the paper and hobbled up to the front of the class with it. She dropped it on White’s desk, noticing as she did so that the old lech was staring at her legs, and then turned back towards the door.
Just as she stepped into the corridor, she heard White say, “Stop writing and set down your pens. Make sure your names are on your paper, then bring it up and place it on my desk.”
Laura minced her way along the corridor towards the toilets, her bladder now fit to explode. She didn’t have much longer before her body forced her to release her pee. Every step she took, no matter how carefully taken, jolted through her and threatened to make her let go. “Must hold it,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “I must. I must!
As she approached the door to the Ladies, she almost lost control and had to fight with herself to hold her pee for a few more moments. She collided with the door, pushing hard, but it didn’t yield. Panic seized her as she pushed on it again, her right leg bending involuntarily. Oh God! It was locked! No!
Unable to stand there on the threshold of a loo any longer, Laura quickly turned and hobbled back along the corridor, passing several of her fellow sufferers as she went. They too were heading for the loo, and she would have told them they would be disappointed if she had been able to pause for a second, or allow her concentration to stray from keeping her sphincter clamped shut. This was terrible. What was she going to do?
The loo downstairs– it was her last hope. Laura descended the stairs, trying to keep her knees pressed together, and made for the toilets. This one was open, but as she stepped inside she froze in horror. It was full of female students all waiting for a cubicle to free up. Of course, everyone had been forced to use this toilet since some, if not all, of the others were locked.
Quickly estimating that she would have to stand in the queue for at least five minutes, Laura immediately turned and departed. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that she could last that long. Tears of anguish now on her cheeks, Laura went out into the cool evening darkness and hobbled in the direction of her car. Not that reaching the car would help her because she could not possibly drive like this, or hold her pee until she could get home. She just kept walking because it was all she could think to do.
As she approached the arch, just beyond which her car waited, Laura felt the first burning jet of pee gush out into her panties. She immediately fought to stop wetting herself, the effort making her stop to cross her legs, her torso bending forward. Behind her, she could hear the voices of other students coming across the car park. She couldn’t just stand there, so she made herself uncross her legs and keep walking.
She managed only a few more steps before the urge to pee overcame her once more. Unable to stop it this time, she made a quick dash through the portal of the arch and concealed herself behind the wall to the left, out of the line of sight of the approaching students. She tossed her coat and handbag onto the ground as if to project them from being sprayed by urine, then stood with her hand against her crotch as she peed in her panties and tights, the pee racing past her fingers and also soaking into her skirt. Laura kept her eyes closed, unwilling to face the world as she disgraced herself, knowing that at any moment someone else would pass through the portal of the arch and see her wetting her clothes.
As warm pee streamed down her legs and spattered onto the ground at her feet, she cursed White for the bastard that he was. This was his fault. She ought to report him, except that it probably wouldn’t do any good.
Voices, very close now. Laura’s bladder still wasn’t empty, but she couldn’t let herself be discovered in this state. She stemmed the flow, quickly snatched up her jacket and bag and hurried to her car. She had just moved round to the driver’s side, screening the lower half of her body from the archway and the students (all male of course) coming through it. They glanced at Laura, and one of them smiled, but no one tried to engage her in conversation. She found her keys in her bag, unlocked the door and gratefully climbed inside, wincing as she sat down on the back panel of her skirt; it was cold and wet. At least no one had witnessed her humiliation, at least she could be thankful for that.
By: David North David’s Website: Bound Girls Bursting to Pee