At the Water's Edge

Nancy found his ad in the Personals section of her campus newspaper. His requirements were very specific:

“Serious older disciplinarian seeks college freshman for bladder control training and discipline. Must be Lolita type 18 or older. Should look 15 or 16 years old – a hint of ‘baby fat’ a plus …”

Nancy had just started her freshman year at State University. She was a natural blonde who had turned 18 three weeks before the start of the fall semester. But she looked much younger. The little darling was barely five feet tall and she was carded regularly every time she went out for drinks with her new college roommate. Maybe it was because she giggled a lot, or because she still had some of the plumpness of a 12 or 13 year old. Maybe if she exercised more, she could get rid of that little bit of the baby fat that turns some men on to girls of a certain age.

The ad excited and intrigued her. For Nancy, the fantasy of bladder control training wasn’t new. Every since she read the book, Sybil, the idea of being made to lose control and wet herself had excited the little girl.

Nancy wasn’t a virgin, but she wasn’t all that sexually experienced. Actually, her experiences were all pretty tame. She had never dated, much less slept with, an older man before. She knew boys her age couldn’t keep a secret, so she never confided any of her darker thoughts to the school boys she dated, and occasionally jerked or sucked off. So her interest in peeing was much too personal even to confide to the boy she dated most of her senior year, and finally fucked on Prom Night.

Nancy responded to an Internet address and corresponded with this older man every day for over a week. He claimed to write porn as a hobby, nothing to make any money at. But from the very vivid descriptions of the things he planned to do her, Nancy had to admit meeting him was a possibility. He starters he would make her consume large quantities of diet soda or cranberry juice, and then restrict her ability to pee.

That was part of the turn on, not being allowed to relieve herself. They would sit and talk, and Nancy would begin to squirm in her seat. He even suggested this might take place in public, but Nancy hoped not. That would be so humiliating. Nancy knew she would eventually lose control and wet herself, and she would be punished for the embarrassment she caused.

There was so much for Nancy to think about. How much soda or juice could she consume? Would she be restrained? How severely would she be punished when she failed to control her bladder to his total satisfaction? Nancy thought about this every night before she went to bed, touching herself under the covers, trying not to make any noise, always hoping her college roommate was asleep. She wanted this older mystery man to be interested, so she sent him pictures of herself, showing off her sexy little tits and her chubby little ass.

He lived close by her college, and suggested meeting her one Saturday morning.

“Plan to be away all day, six hours at least. These things take time, and you can’t rush Mother Nature.”

Vanishing on a Saturday morning wasn’t a problem. All she had to do was tell her roommate she was doing field research for her abnormal psychology course, “nuts and sluts,” as she put it, her favorite course.

Nancy was very excited that Saturday morning. She took a shower and shaved her legs and under her arms, and then trimmed her little blonde patch with the electric beard trimmer. She wanted this stranger to like her, to think she was cute, to find her desirable.

Nancy dressed carefully – her tightest yellow tube top, no bra, to show off her pretty little tits. The final touch was a very small pair of cutoff jeans. She debated if she should wear underwear, white cotton bikini panties, or maybe a thong, but finally decided she preferred the friction of denim against her bare and freshly trimmed crotch.

Down deep Nancy suspected she would disappoint him, that he would see her faults, that he wouldn’t like her. Or I’ll do something stupid or something to make him angry, she thought to herself, and then he’ll really punish me for being such a geek.

He met the young girl that first Saturday morning at the campus bus stop just outside her dormitory. He had the picture of her in the tight yellow tube top and cut offs and the little girl was even sexier in real life.

He planned to make her drink four or five quarts of soda or cranberry juice. From past experience, he knew she wouldn’t be able to hold that much liquid for very long, especially if he gave her a Lasik pill after she started drinking. He also knew she would get a whipping when she finally lost control and wet herself. Just thinking about her standing in a corner, naked from the waste down after he spanked her, made his cock very stiff.

He told her he his name was Denis Diderot and he would be driving a white Mercedes, and older S model, the model before the one Princess Di died in. Nancy didn’t know anything about cars, so it didn’t make much difference what model Mercedes he would be driving. He pulled to the curb and Nancy quickly jumped in.

“Let’s get breakfast before we get started,” he told her, as he floored the accelerator. The car was big and fast and things were starting to get exciting. He took her to a restaurant off campus, T G I Friday’s she later wrote in her ‘field notes,’ along with the fact that he found a parking space very close to the door.

The waitress took them to a booth in a non-smoking section, and probably assumed they were a father and his daughter out for a Saturday morning adventure. Denis ordered granola cereal with yogurt on the side, and a cup of French roast coffee.

“My daughter will have the same, without the yogurt,” he told the waitress, “and bring her your largest size diet Coke, without too much ice, instead of the coffee.”

Nancy started to protest that she didn’t like granola cereal, and she certainly wasn’t his daughter.

“Sush,” he whispered, as he put his finger up to his lips, “play along. It will make the game more exciting.”

They were playing a game, Nancy realized, and pretending to be his daughter would be part of the fun.

As the waitress walked away, he added another instruction: “And by the way, I expect my young girls to be polite, to be respectful. Therefore, from now on, you’ll address me as ‘Sir.’ Do, you understand?”

Yes, she nodded her head.

“Then say it.”

There was an edge to his voice.

“Yes, Sir,” she said reluctantly.

“Good. You’re making progress.”

While they waited for the food to arrive, Denis told her to drink the entire glass of soda, and watched as she forced herself to finish the large glass. Then he began to quiz Nancy about her fantasies.

“Have you ever intentionally wet yourself in public? And how often do you masturbate?”

Nancy blushed as she admitted that she masturbated most nights before she went to bed, and while she had never lost control in public, she sometimes liked to play with herself while she was peeing.

“And what about peeing in the shower? Do you ever do that, pee standing up, letting the warm piss run down your pretty legs?”

Nancy could feel the wetness starting between her legs as he asked her about that and she was sure he could see her little nipples getting hard.

“Sometimes,” she said with a stammer, “when I was home alone, before I started college.”

“And what about your little piss hole? Do you ever try to put anything in it, a small glass stirring rod or the tip of a thermometer?”

By now, the blush had worked its way down to the top of her chest, and her nipples were very perky.

“No, Sir, I’ve never done that,” and she looked down at the top of the table.

“But I think you’ve read Sybil, that you wonder what that would be like. And I think you’ll want me to play with yourr pussy when you finally pee, when you can’t hold it any longer. And then we’ll see if you enjoys having something in your piss hole while I suck on your hot little clit.”

Nancy wanted to touch herself right there in the restaurant, she was so aroused by what this older man was saying. The food finally arrived, and Denis ordered another round of drinks.

“You’ll have to finish this one, and at least one more, before we leave,” he told her after the waitress delivered the second very large soda.

“Please, Sir, I’m not all that thirsty.”

“This is only to get you started … and you’ll be amazed how much liquid you can take … this way and other ways …” he said with a smile.

What other ways, Nancy asked herself.

They ate slowly. Nancy never liked cereal, and she protested that she especially didn’t care for granola.

“It adds bulk and is health for you. And I expect you to finish your soda as part of your bladder training.”

Oh, my, he’s serious.

Denis finished his cereal and yogurt, and ordered another round of coffee and soda.

“No ice, this time for my daughter. The little girl is very thirsty.”

It seemed like it took a half hour for Nancy to finish the third soda, and then she asked if she could be excused to go to the bathroom.

“No, you’ll just have to wait until we get home.”

Nancy started to squirm in her seat. After what seemed like an eternity, Denis ordered the check, and took his time paying for their breakfast. Nancy’s bladder was very full and she started to shred a napkin to take her mind off her discomfort.

“Sit still, and stop fidgeting,” Denis ordered.

“Please, Sir, I have to go.”

“Not until we get home!”

“I’m sure I can’t wait.”

“You’ll just have to learn to control yourself.”

Nancy was in agony. She guessed it was at least a 10 or 15 minute drive to wherever he was planning to take her, and she knew she couldn’t hold it that long.

“Please, dear God, let me go to the bathroom here in the restaurant.”

“No, and be quiet about it. You’re getting to be very tedious.”

Nancy thought that at any moment she would lose control and wet herself right there in the restaurant. She squeezed her legs together and tried to make the pain go away. She would die of shame if it happened there, in the restaurant, sitting there in the booth. Finally Denis stood up and started for the door. Nancy followed him, trying to control herself and walk fast at the same time.

Please, not here in the restaurant, she told herself with each step. They finally got to the car, and Denis intentionally fumbled with his car keys.

“Please, Sir, I can’t hold it any longer.”

He walked around to her side of the car. The little girl was starting to tremble.

“Please, don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me wet myself, please, not here, not like this, not in public …”

A tear started to form in the corner of one eye; it was all very touching. He could see the patch of darkness starting in the crotch of her cutoffs, as the little girl slowly lost control. And a moment later the pee started to run down her legs and form puddles on the parking lot ground.

They were very near the entrance to the restaurant, and a couple stopped to stare at the scene taking place before their eyes. The woman looked very concerned about what was happening.

“Please ignore my daughter,” Denis said to the couple very matter of factly. “She’s under a doctor’s care, and she only does these little demonstrations to attract attention.”

At that point Nancy’s humiliation deepened, and she wanted to sink into the ground.

“When we get home, after I’ve dried you off and cleaned you up, I’m going to punish you for this,” Denis told her when the couple finally walked away.

“It won’t be a spanking. Instead, we’ll start all over again, with a couple of two liter bottles of diet soda. Since you’re so fond of Sybil, I’ll use a vibrating massager on your tummy, and time you to see how long you can hold it. After that you’ll find out what a glass rod feels like in your wee-wee hole. If you’re a good little girl, if you’ve learned your lessons well, maybe I’ll eat your pretty little cunt while I’m doing it.”