As the water slowly filled the bucket the crotch rope got ever tighter, pulling harder and harder against her already swollen, well edged clit. The trickling fluid made the fact he hadn’t let her go to the toilet even worse.

Through the ceiling she could hear the rumble of the movie her husband was watching upstairs with his friends. She held the clicker in her hand, able to signal him if she’d had too much. The fact he’d promised to bring his friends with him to untie her if she used it was enough to keep her from pressing it, even if part of her was deeply aroused by the thought of them seeing her like this.

As the bucket grew heavier her useless attempts to grind against the rope became ever more painful. It was the pressure on her bladder that was causing her the greatest problem, but the guys were still there, she didn’t dare press the clicker. So she just let go, knowing he’d like that, finding her standing in a puddle of her own pee. But the pressure of the rope stopped the flow she’d expected. She sobbed as she ground herself against it, little spurts of pee able to occasionally make it through. Enough to relieve the pressure at last.

Finally she heard what must be the end music of the film. For whatever reason the attempt to pee had only made her more horny. She listened as the men shuffled around, getting their things, moving to the door, and in a moment of madness, she pressed the button.

Her heart raced, she heard the front door open, relieved, perhaps her husband had left his phone in the lounge. He’d see her message and come and rescue her once they’d gone. It had been crazy to press it before they left, she was glad it had been too late.

And then she heard his voice, at the top of the stairs:

‘Wait up guys, there’s something you have to see before you go.’