Must Everything Be D S

It's been a bit of a challenge between us, humiliation. He tells me I'm hard to humiliate, I guess mostly I am. But this weekend he did an amazing job......

We went shopping on Saturday for the baby. He seemed very excited, though somewhat clueless about what we should buy. It was a difficult excursion as I am not very forward in speaking to strangers, and I do hate shopping, but he held my hand and we somehow got through it.

However this was not a straightforward shopping trip, no that would have bored him. Just for good measure, he had invited Mick and Tubby along. Why these two would wish to accompany him to a baby store was beyond my comprehension. Well, it turned out Tubby was better at baby shopping than anyone else among us. She had had children after all, that put her in the position of knowledge.

That morning he had told me what to wear, though that in itself was not unusual, though today it was a departure from his usual requests. He liked mostly to show me off, in impossibly short skirts, low-cut tops, and items of that nature. Even though I was progressing quite far down the path of pregnancy I had not gotten that large and carried the baby high. He seemed to enjoy the rare times we both ventured out in public and the stares my mandatory mode of dress garnered.

Today he made me put on a pair of black leggings and jeans over the top of them. I hate wearing layers like that, and the lycra material made my legs feel all shivery and prickly under the denim. Not a feeling I enjoy. They were very low-waisted jeans, the only pair I had that still fit me, I refused to buy or wear ugly maternity clothes. I hoped I could make it to the end without buying such dowdy garments. Still, I am sure in the closing months he would keep me sequestered at home, so maybe it would not be an issue.

We shopped first, then along with Mick and Tubby we adjourned to a cozy little coffee shop, unusually he seemed unhurried and we sat for a time drinking, he even bought me a yummy cake which I devoured hungrily. Tubby wore her slave collar proudly in full public view, it was not a small affair as mine had been. It could not be mistaken for anything else but what it was, a collar of capture and binding servitude.

Of course these days the baby is beginning to take up much space, and my bladder is suffering for it. I asked him if I could adjourn to the bathroom. You have no idea how hard that simple sentence is if you cannot say, 'I'. Talking in the third person or saying 'it' is not something I enjoy. However, it could not be helped I had to go frequently.

He looked at me sternly and said flatly, "no!"

I looked away from his vibrant stare longingly to the restrooms beyond, and he continued to speak with Mick. Time passed and I fidgeted in my seat, and I thought about tempting his ire and just getting up and going. The problem with this plan was we were in a booth, and he was sitting on the outside blocking my exodus. I began to squirm as time passed, he would look at me at intervals and my eyes pleaded my silent request. He did not give me my leave.

To my horror he ordered us all more drinks, there was no way I could contemplate drinking anymore. I really, really, had to go. I put my hand on his arm, the urgency of bodily demands was mounting. I could feel the iron of his biceps beneath his black shirt.

"Sir, Pleas......"

He leaned toward me and said in a half-whisper. "Drink up, and pee yourself where you are sitting," and went straight back to the conversation he was having.

No,

I thought in disbelief.

I couldn't pee here, that would be wrong, disgusting, no!

I decided then I would just defy him, he surely would not cause a scene in a public place. I made to stand intending to climb over him, no easy feat, but he was ready, his arm on me forcing me to maintain a sitting position. He turned in his seat and put his other hand on my bladder pressing hard.

"That Lidia, was an order."

I looked past him, Mick with a smirk on his face, Tubby her eyes in her lap, and no one else in the room looking my way. All the afternoon's customers were blissfully unaware of the interplay at our table. The waitress passed by, and he asked for another coffee calmly. She smiled at him and as she turned under his persistent pressure I felt the warm stream of urine begin to run down between my legs, pool on the vinyl seat, and drip to the floor.

"You dirty bitch," he said as he nuzzled my ear in cover for his wickedness.

I sat frozen and shamed in my filth. Horrified someone may notice. My face already feeling the first flush of shame and heat. I wondered how I would be able to get up from the table and walk outside.

So I sat there in a fuzzy panic, hoping my clothing would soak up the worst of the mess I had made. I no longer took in the words exchanged. All I could think of was

how would I get out of this place, my dignity intact?

I needn't have bothered, he did not allow me that. He dragged me past the mortified onlookers in full view of everyone.

People looked at me with objection and pity, and one lady voiced her concern. I guess she thought my waters had broken, he blithely told her I had had an accident. I'm not sure she was placated, but by then it was time to leave. God, there were days I hated him and his sick games...