warmth of it almost felt good.
When she finally finished peeing she began to sob. Fat Boy had such a calm expression on his face, almost as if he’d just orgasmed.
“That’s my good girl,” he said. “That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?”
Rose couldn’t speak. She just let the tears fall down her face silently. She felt disgusting. She was covered in urine. The bed was soaked in it. She looked over at the bathroom door. Why couldn’t he have let her go in there? It was such a small thing, being allowed to pee in a toilet, privately, and now that she’d been deprived of it she realized how important such a simple liberty was. It was impossible to have dignity and respect without it.
She pulled against the cords that bound her to the bed but there was no slack in them and she only succeeded in aggravating the cuts around her ankles and wrists.
“Calm down,” Fat Boy said. “You’re not going anywhere for a while.”
He still had his finger in her vagina and he started to slide it in and out of her.
“No,” she said, “please stop. Please stop. Please.”
But it was almost as if the more she protested, the more pleasure he got out of it. He slid his finger in and out, reaching as far in as he could. She didn’t know what was wrong with him? He was horrible. Why did he want to finger a girl who’d just peed all over herself? It was disgusting.
But from the look on his face it was clear he was getting pleasure from it. He was fingering her with one hand and stroking his own penis with the other. Rose felt horrible. She was covered in pee. It was a disgusting feeling. All dignity was lost, all respect. Everything about the situation was perfectly calculated to be as degrading and humiliating as possible.
Fat Boy was rubbing his cock, sliding his palm over the bulbous head of his penis, bringing himself close to orgasm. He was fingering Rose harder and harder and it was everything she could do just to stop herself from screaming. She tried to dissociate herself from the experience. She told herself that it would all be over soon. If she could just keep her mind away from what Fat Boy was doing to her, if she could just keep herself separate from the experience, it would come to an end by itself.
Fat Boy was breathing harder and harder and he got up on his knees and leaned over her. He stopped fingering her, which was a relief. He was right over her, on his knees, holding himself up with one hand while rubbing his cock with the other.
Then he gasped, right in her face, and at the same moment, she felt the squirt of his jizz shoot out of his cock and land on her leg. She wanted to shut her eyes but for some reason she couldn’t. She just stared into Fat Boy’s awful face, the throes of orgasm spread all over it. He squirted again and another string of jizz landed on her and began to slowly slide down the inside of her thigh. It felt slimy and sticky and disgusting.
“Fuck, yeah,” Fat Boy sighed as he finished his orgasm.
Rose lay there, utterly in shock. She was lying in her own urine, in a soaking wet bed, with Fat Boy’s slimy semen sliding down her thigh. She’d stopped crying at some point and was now just staring up at the ceiling, the fan blades continuing in their incessant circular paths above her like the stars of the night sky.
She wanted to scream but she felt as if her throat was blocked. Emotion and pain and sadness had a hold of her chest and throat and prevented her from making any sound. She just lay there in silence as Fat Boy dozed in his chair. She didn’t know if she slept or not but at some point in that endless night the light of the dawn began to rise up in the east and flood into the room through its single window.
XIV
W HEN FAT BOY WOKE UP in the morning he looked like a man who’d slept in a chair. He was disheveled and unwashed. His stubble looked even more scraggly and rough than it had the night before. Rose wouldn’t have thought he could have looked any
When she finally finished peeing she began to sob. Fat Boy had such a calm expression on his face, almost as if he’d just orgasmed.
“That’s my good girl,” he said. “That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?”
Rose couldn’t speak. She just let the tears fall down her face silently. She felt disgusting. She was covered in urine. The bed was soaked in it. She looked over at the bathroom door. Why couldn’t he have let her go in there? It was such a small thing, being allowed to pee in a toilet, privately, and now that she’d been deprived of it she realized how important such a simple liberty was. It was impossible to have dignity and respect without it.
She pulled against the cords that bound her to the bed but there was no slack in them and she only succeeded in aggravating the cuts around her ankles and wrists.
“Calm down,” Fat Boy said. “You’re not going anywhere for a while.”
He still had his finger in her vagina and he started to slide it in and out of her.
“No,” she said, “please stop. Please stop. Please.”
But it was almost as if the more she protested, the more pleasure he got out of it. He slid his finger in and out, reaching as far in as he could. She didn’t know what was wrong with him? He was horrible. Why did he want to finger a girl who’d just peed all over herself? It was disgusting.
But from the look on his face it was clear he was getting pleasure from it. He was fingering her with one hand and stroking his own penis with the other. Rose felt horrible. She was covered in pee. It was a disgusting feeling. All dignity was lost, all respect. Everything about the situation was perfectly calculated to be as degrading and humiliating as possible.
Fat Boy was rubbing his cock, sliding his palm over the bulbous head of his penis, bringing himself close to orgasm. He was fingering Rose harder and harder and it was everything she could do just to stop herself from screaming. She tried to dissociate herself from the experience. She told herself that it would all be over soon. If she could just keep her mind away from what Fat Boy was doing to her, if she could just keep herself separate from the experience, it would come to an end by itself.
Fat Boy was breathing harder and harder and he got up on his knees and leaned over her. He stopped fingering her, which was a relief. He was right over her, on his knees, holding himself up with one hand while rubbing his cock with the other.
Then he gasped, right in her face, and at the same moment, she felt the squirt of his jizz shoot out of his cock and land on her leg. She wanted to shut her eyes but for some reason she couldn’t. She just stared into Fat Boy’s awful face, the throes of orgasm spread all over it. He squirted again and another string of jizz landed on her and began to slowly slide down the inside of her thigh. It felt slimy and sticky and disgusting.
“Fuck, yeah,” Fat Boy sighed as he finished his orgasm.
Rose lay there, utterly in shock. She was lying in her own urine, in a soaking wet bed, with Fat Boy’s slimy semen sliding down her thigh. She’d stopped crying at some point and was now just staring up at the ceiling, the fan blades continuing in their incessant circular paths above her like the stars of the night sky.
She wanted to scream but she felt as if her throat was blocked. Emotion and pain and sadness had a hold of her chest and throat and prevented her from making any sound. She just lay there in silence as Fat Boy dozed in his chair. She didn’t know if she slept or not but at some point in that endless night the light of the dawn began to rise up in the east and flood into the room through its single window.
XIV
W HEN FAT BOY WOKE UP in the morning he looked like a man who’d slept in a chair. He was disheveled and unwashed. His stubble looked even more scraggly and rough than it had the night before. Rose wouldn’t have thought he could have looked any
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