Turtle Island

Turtle Island, October 1644
With only the feeble starlight, walking on the docks through the mist made Temperance nervous. Her pace kept accelerating, and soon it became even brisker than she thought possible. Cold was sending shivers down her spine but she knew she could not go faster without jeopardizing the poor balance alcohol induced. She passed by a man throwing up every ounce of liquid he had had in the night and her heart missed a beat when she twisted her ankle because of a slippery paving stone. Her squeaking out of surprise and pain was muffled by the mist but not enough. Four blokes she had not spotted at first were coming towards her with small shining blades in their hands, and dark brown rum in their bellies. Adrenaline quenched the pain radiating from her foot but her bladder began to hurt seriously, reacting eventually to both fear and alcohol.
— Well, well! What do we have here boys?! Ain’t it a young dove?
— Please, no! Back off! Let me go!
— Uh! Where do ya think ya going? Tonight ya stay here! With us!
Their ugly Caribbean accent made the situation even more unbearable for the poor girl, whose clothes were torn apart by two of the men while the others were watching with a salacious rictus floating on their lips. Her dress was torn to shreds and her underskirt alike when the first spurt of pee found its way through her labia. Fortunately the men did not see anything or fiercer violence might have been their gift for her weakness. Alas, when the first cold and sticky hand grasped her pussy through the lace, she could not hold on for a second and then came a longer spurt. Temperance was shaking, her bladder hurting really badly, but fear sharpened her senses. Thanks to that, though rivulets of pee were still running down her legs, she noticed the trouble in the men’s eyes.
The men being in slight state of shock offered an opportunity to Temperance. She bit one man’s jaw and began running as fast as the alcohol agreed, but she did not make twenty yards before rushing into someone. It was not the drunkard, but instead a tall woman wearing the most beautiful gala dress in all the Caribbean, beautiful but somewhat obsolete. In spite of the night the eyes of the newcomer were a bright ice–blue and she was staring at Temperance. Slowly but steadily the creature reached for Temperance’s mouth and kissed her passionately, triggering a liquid fire inside her groin. And when their lips parted eventually, Temperance collapsed in a puddle of her own liquid gold, a blood pearl resting on her low lip.
Turtle Island, November 1644
When she opened her eyes again, Temperance was surrounded with darkness, but not a nightly darkness. It was something darker, deeper, like the darkness found in buildings never ever exposed to sunlight. Her nostrils stung when the musty smell of her fluids stroke her. For how long have I been here? Where am I?!
— Where art mine clooooothes?!!!?
She shouted, mostly because she wanted to be certain she was alive. And when her voice echoed in the room, returned to her, twice, thrice she became fully aware of her body. Several things were wrong though. First, she needed to pee really badly. Second she was neither thirsty, nor hungry and … she did not even feel the effect of the hangover that should have hit her fiercely.
Suddenly she remembered the woman she met on the docks and the mere remembrance of her kiss summoned the same feelings in her groin. And a second later she was there, in the room, standing in front of Temperance, her blue eyes as mysterious as the first time.
— Your clothes, I threw them in the ocean as soon as I could – they were rotten.
Her voice was melodious but tinted with an old European accent Temperance did not know. Puzzled, the girl did not say a word but kept staring into the stranger’s eyes, fascinated. When the latter resume speaking, a hint of laughter beautified her tone.
— As for thy little discomfort down there, well, as you can smell, it was my pleasure to help you when thou were asleep. But now that thou art awoken, thou hast to learn to control thyself and do not piss under thee.
But I am on the verge of letting go! This is what Temperance would have answered or what her bladder would have answered since it was so achingly full… But something blocked her speech, and seemed to be choosing what she could say. As she was fighting with her throat and tongue to pronounce something, a preposterous thought stroke her. She was not looking the newcomer in the eyes; she was remembering it, because so far, her eyes had been closed! The room was vast, candlelit and so beautiful– many, many tapestries hung on the wall, the beauty of which only outdone by that of the stranger. She was fully naked, wearing lipstick alone with a pair of crystal earrings. Temperance was wet and the heat in her groin tended to make her forget about the numerous twinges in her bladder twinges her body did not forget though.
— Who, who art thou?
— Aw doth it really matter? But well, I agree knowing my name might be useful. I have been called many different names, but Kalistria is the one I prefer.
And with that mysterious sentence, Kalistria went behind the chair where Temperance was bound. Slowly, she slid her hand down her body, caressing her firm breasts, pinching her nipples and giving Temperance pleasure, a pleasure full of lustful moans. Then she went down for her sides with airy fingers, tickling her and provoking the most delicious twinges in her overfull bladder. In the meantime, Temperance had forgotten the pungent smell of the room and was fully obsessed with Kalistria’s perfume and with her hands. It seemed to her as if she had no control over her body anymore. The body of her gentle persecutor was all that mattered to her, was all she desired. Except for something else– Her need to pee always arose during sex and the soft hands of Kalistria were torturing her with ultimate accuracy.
— But I need
— No.
— Yeeeeeees
Temperance’s voice was slowed by the pleasure Kalistria was giving her but her willpower was reduced by something she could not describe, as if one of those sirens sailors described every so often was in the room, tampering with her mind. But there were only the two of them, surrounded by candles and tapestries. Still, Temperance’s mind continued to play tricks on her and soon she felt water reaching her ankles and going quickly all the way up her bum. Lost in pleasure, the girl reacted only to Kalistria’s voice, a soft voice as before, but with an accent and a pronunciation she did not quite recognize, was it disapproval?
— You common women from that old century ain?t even able to hold your waters when asked! Well then, I?ll be back in a month or two and see how you do!
Then she was gone, and the light with her. All was left in the room was a naked woman sitting in a wet chair, and her ice–blue eyes were glowing in the dark.
Turtle Island, January 1645
During two months, Temperance peed herself again and again, but as she kept dehydrating her bladder would eventually stop asking for relief. She cried at the beginning, out of fear first –fear to be left alone for ever in that dark room– but then she cried mainly because she could not understand what was happening. She had not eaten for weeks (months?) but she was not hungry. She had peed herself after sheer desperation a few times, but never had she drunk anything to replenish her fluids. She felt dry inside her body and mind and soon the spark of pleasure she had felt a few times with the memories of her second night with Kalistria was not enough to revive her. She knew somehow her mind should have collapsed a long time ago, and her body as well, she was still safe and sound. And her not understanding what was happening to her filled her with fear, and anger towards Kalistria.
After what seemed an eternity, she finally succeeded in releasing her hands and her feet followed immediately. Every drop of liquid she might have spread in the room during her captivity was long dry and even the smell had fainted. She stood up, slowly, awaiting a reaction from her body but nothing came. She had been seated for weeks but her body was ok, and her mind too, as it seemed! She went through the images she remembered from the second night with Kalistria and managed to find a pair of matches. Transition between darkness and light was sudden, but Temperance did not even flicker. She lit every candle she found in the room and it felt as if she lit her heart– the most comfortable feeling she had had in a long time. She was neither thirsty nor hungry but when she found a cask of wine and a crate of dry meat she could not help herself and had every drop and chunk of it. Her stomach was full, but it helped her to consider serenely the different solutions. She could see no window, but maybe there was a door hidden behind one of the tapestry. She could not see no loo either, or pot of any kind, meaning she would have to find something else or “control thyself.”
— Hello, hello, there. Mind if I drop the old language? I’m tired of it. Well, I see you finally decided to stand up. How are you doing Tempi?
— Wh…How?
Kalistria was not naked anymore, but instead she was wearing bizarre clothes, somehow “old” as far as Temperance could tell, but so “old” actually that the only possibility was that she was just out of a masked ball.
— Hmm…Still some problems with your speech I see?
— Huh? No! Who art thou? And where are we? And how did you get in here? And what are these horrible accent and slang thou usest?!
As she stopped talking, a sincere smile appeared on Kalistria’s lips. With a cat’s grace, she stepped forward and lifted her hand to caress Temperance’s brow, cheek, lips, throat, nipples The process had some effect on her eager–for–sex body, but she did not forget her goal.
— Stop that please! Explanations! I want an explanation!
Kalistria smiled at her and went for her nipples again. She kept doing that for a while –touching Temperance’s nipples, caressing her naked body– and when she finally stopped, it was sudden, but a glint in her eyes told Temperance she achieved what she wanted –and that she was proud of it. For her part, Kalistria’s captive had become quite wet and aroused by all the caressing and even felt disappointed when the soft hands get off from her body.
— Temperance, how’s your knowledge of the old European myths?
— I do not know the tales from the Old Continent.
— Then I’ll answer to all questions if this is what you want, all your questions but one: the first one.
Temperance was not surprised to hear that: she was too concerned by the pain building in her low–abdomen. A pain she had not felt in what seemed an eternity to her.
— Where are we? We are in the same town you’ve always lived in, in my home. And I get in here through the door.
With that Kalistria pointed a trap door built in the ceiling. The pain radiated from Temperance’s bladder as if it was not more capable of receiving and holding liquid. Out of reflex, she massaged her lower abdomen and put her right hand on her pussy. The black haired captor did not seem to notice anything, or maybe did not want to notice anything because she soon resumed talking, unflappably.
— As for my accent, and “slang” as you said, they both belong to me and I…Oh.
She giggled and watched Temperance dancing on the spot. In the meantime, the pain had become that of a needle, piercing through her flesh. She was suffering but she simply could not resolve to let go in front of Kalistria. She called herself a fool to have drunk so much in such a short span of time after the eternity she spent dry. She had both hands pushing hard on her pussy and she was dancing on the spot to keep her legs and lower–body moving at all price.
Kalistria was not doing anything, just watching with a spark of pleasure in her glowing blue eyes. Temperance noticed the first spurt only because her fingers were suddenly wet. She stayed still for a few seconds, mostly out of fear to definitely lose control of her poor bladder. But it was her mistake. A second spurt found its way through her labia and finger, trickling along her leg. With every ounce of strength she had she squeezed every muscle she could find in her lower abdomen. Again Kalistria giggled as her captive fought a wave of desperation and a second, and a third one. Temperance’s whole body was shaking to fight the need to relieve herself, but at least she was not leaking any more. Kalistria chuckled but somehow she seemed satisfied.
— Good. Thou hast almost done it, this is the way.
Temperance was crying, but with her hands pressed on her vulva as hard as she could and her bladder muscles as hard as steel, she managed to contain herself, to hold back every drop of the golden liquid she knew she had in her. When she opened her eyes, she saw the glint in Kalistria’s eyes changed into respect but only when she abruptly felt as if she did not had to pee at all did she understand why. She took one hand off her pussy, only to be emboldened by the fact her bladder did not contract fiercely. As soon as the other hand was off, she dared looking down at her abdomen. It was swollen, and sweat was pearling on her inner thigh and on her vulva: everything looked as if she was a desperate woman. But she was not, and eventually she smiled to Kalistria. The latter smiled back at her, and began her tale with a soft voice.
— Once upon a time the Earth was populated by two different races, both technologically advanced and each determined to exterminate the other. One eventually won several battles and the other people had to hide and decided to give its civilization a new start from a remote mount located in southern China. Their first new city was Vampyria.
By: Jeffrey Stein