I have always enjoyed female desperation; I don't know why. As I girl, I found it fun to lock doors to the toilet so that other girls would become desperate. As an adult, I can no longer do things like that, and I have to keep myself under control. I manage this most of the time, even when I am at work. There was a time, up until just recently, when that was not the case.
Here is an example: Some collegues of mine got drunk at a company event. Although I always have to drink with them, I always make a point of remaining composed, of not going too far. In short, I stay in control. However, the need to pee is not something one can keep under control for as long as one wants. It keeps building up all the time as the bladder gets fuller and fuller, until one is forced to go. I think that's the fascination I feel on that. It doesn't matter whether you are the porter or the Managing Director, everybody needs to go pee and nobody can hold it forever.
I work with other women and enjoy watching them get into situations where the become desperate, such as in meetings where they do not feel they can just get up and use the toilet. I also like to watch them in public places and there are lot of opportunities, if you are observant.
This is especially true if you are a women and can go into the ladies where one can witness many great things :-)
Since I found the Bound2Burst website, I also like to engineer myself into desperate situations. I get exited by going to my limit in public places, and sometimes I would do this while at work. It has been fun, but sadly I have to cut back on these activities. I think I have started drawing too much attention to myself. That's what I wanna tell you now. These accounts are not the most thrilling stories, and do not involve full scale situations like in the stories I have written before, but hopefully these little explanations will still be of interest.
In my job, I have to spen a lot of time on the phone. I had reached the stage with my games where, several times every day, I would let my bladder get really full, and then have to decided if I dared to make another call without going to the ladies first. It is a dangerous game since I can't know how long a call will last. Usually, they will only take a few minutes, but sometimes, they turn into really long ones, and I become very desperate on my chair.
There are two other people in my office, one a male collegue with nearly the same job as me, plus a trainee (working for me) at a nearby desk. Their proximity means that I am not able to squirm around too much, and I had to concentrate hard not to wet myself. Sometimes, I would be on the phone for so long, the situation would become very serious, and I would find it really hard to concentrate on the conversation. When things got really bad, I would put my hand into my crotch under the desk so nobody could see. That way, I could hold it without the need to struggle so much.
I always managed to hold on while on the phone, but once the call was over, it was always torture to stand up and walk to the toilet, trying to look composed as if nothing is wrong. I think sometimes my collegues noticed something was wrong with me.
I recall one particular occasion when I had two appointments with clients at their places of work. I took Paul, my trainee, along with me to show him how to work with clients, and also to drive the car.
The first client wanted to discuss a number of problems with the other partners, and while I listened to him, I drank two cups of coffee. I didn't go to the ladies room, and by the time we left client number one, I was becoming uncomfortable.
Client number two had opend a new store, so he had laid on a buffet, and champange was flowing freely. I had several glasses, and could feel my bladder really starting to fill up. It was little wonder - I had not peed for over three hours and had already drunk those two cups of coffee at our first appointment.
Naturally, I had to talk to some partners and clients, and just went on drinking champange without really paying much attention. I soon got to the point where my bladder felt really full. It was uncomfortable to stand, and every time I was able to walk around a bit, each step sent a jolt to my full bladder. My situation was now serious, and I started looking to see if there were any toilets. I could not see any, and I didn't want to ask, so I went on holding it.
We chatted for maybe another half an hour, and I was forced to cross my legs more and more often to keep control. I was glad when the need to socialise was finally over and I could walk back to the car. My bladder was really bloated now and I had to clench my teeth to keep from groaning as we walked.
In the car, I felt much better because sitting down helped my muscles to keep my bladder shut. My relief didn't last long - by the time Paul had driven out onto the road, my waistband has become very tight. I kept shifting my body around, trying to find the most comfortable position to sit in. Nothing helped very much.
We started thinking about how long it would take us to get back to the office. We took the motorway, and I calculated that it shouldn't take more than twenty minutes. I felt I could handle that. I soon realized it was going to be a very long twenty minutes because my need to pee got much worse with every minute. I repeatedly changed my position to take some of the pressure off my waistband.
There was a lot more traffic than I anticipated, and we were soon moving very slowly. After ten minutes, I became nervous because it looked as if we would need another thirty, maybe even fourty, minutes to reach the office. Paul was concentrated on the street so I think he didn't notice my little squirming, but it was certainly very difficult to stay cool.
After another ten minutes or so, I saw a sign for a rest area eleven kilometers ahead. We picked up speed again, and I hoped, if we could keep moving like this, that I would be there in about five minutes. I would have to ask Paul to stop because I was on the verge of bobbing up and down on my seat. I forced myself to sit still to cover my predicament, but it was torture.
"Paul," I said. "Please sop at the rest area in ten kilometers!"
To my horror, he told me: "Maam, we leave the motorway in four kilometers, so we don't pass it."
"Okay then." I answered, "How long do you think we need to get to the office?"
Paul did a mental calculation and said, "Maybe fifteen minutes after we leave the motorway!"
Now I was startiung to panic. I didn't think I would wait that long, and wondered what to do. I didn't want to tell Paul that I really needed to pee this badly; that I was afraid I couldn't make it to the office.
I lowered my my left hand and tried to press myself harder to keep control, but it was hard to do without Paul noticing anything was wrong.
We left the motorway at last, and I counted every passing second. I started to squirm more and more in my seat and Paul asked: "Is everything alright with you!"
I tried to sound casual and also stopped squirming:" Yes, but I really have to move my legs a bit. I hope we reach the office soon."
"We are nearly there!" he said.
To myself, I said: "Yes and I'm nearly peeing my pants now!"
I had to bend forward a bit in my seat, and it was now impossible to keep my legs still.
We reached the carpark and I was ready to explode! Paul parked the car and we got out. I had tremendous trouble standing up, and it took all my will power to straighten my body, My muscles were trembeling as I started walking to the escalaor in the hallway. A few times, I grabbed my wasitband and gave myself a short squeeze. Paul was following behind me, so I really had to try hard to take normal steps.
We reached the elevator and pressured the call button. I had to wait a few seconds until the doors opened. I crossed my legs hard and tried to stand still, but felt I needed something more to help me hold it. I slightly bent my knees, but I could tell this attempt to ease my situation would not work for very long. I really feared losing a spurt with my next step.
The doors opened and I hobbled in. It was only two steps, so I don't think Paul noticed how awkwardly I was moving. Inside the elevator, however, I wasn't able to maintain my composure. I had to grab my waistband again, and tried to pull it up discretly. At the same time shifting my weight from foot to foot. After a few seconds. this didn't really help either, and I had to raise my foot. I tried hard to hold on, but I couldn't keep still and was forced to do a full pee dance in front of my trainee.
He said, "Ms.. Veronique.. are you...? I mean, um..."
There was no chance of hiding my desperation from him anymore. I told him: "I'm fine, but I have to pee really bad"
He blushed and tried not to stare at me. I didn't care anymore. When the doors opened, I pulled up my waistband with all my strength and rushed to the ladies without looking left or right.
I reached the toilet in time and got relief. I think a few people noticed I really had to pee.
Okay, so this was supposed to be the first day I decided not to get desperate in the office. I'm sorry to say the temptation was too great, and I started a phone call even though I was already bursting to pee and could hardly able to sit still on my chair.
The call lasted much longer than I anticipated, and I had so much trouble holding in my pee. Most of the time, I ad to press my free hand between my legs. After what seemed an eternity, I couldn't risk it any longer and have the man on the phone wrong information to cut the conversation short. I told him I would call back later.
After hanging up, I needed a few seconds to compose myself ready to deal with the pain of standing up. I rose and walked with stiff legs in the direction of the toilets. As I passed my boss's office, he called me in to talk about my salary (I had recently asked for more money, so I couldn't really refuse).
I followed him into his office and sat before his desk. My bladder spasmed and I bent over. At once, I put one hand under the desk between my legs.
I couldn't concentrate on what my boss was saying. My bladder spasmed yet again and I had to move my legs up and down. God, I had to go.
"Sorry to interrupt you", I said apologetically, "but can we talk later because..."
"I don't understand this, Veronique," he interrupted. " You asked me for a pay rise, and now you don't want to talk about it?"
I blushed at the thought of telling him how desperate I was to pee, but I had no option: "No, no, please. I just need to use the toilet"
"Surely you can wait another five minutes?" he answered.
"No, I simply cannot wait anymore" I explained, raising my body carefully. Of course I took my hand away from my crotch. I tried to smile a further apology, but he just shook his head.
I couldn't delay. I left his office taking small, careful steps, almost on tip-toe. If I tried to rush, I knew I would wet myself before I could reach the ladies. I really had to pee and leaked every second, but I just couldn't go any faster.
As I drew close to the door to the ladies, I had to press one hand between my legs for a short moment. I hoped nobody would see and kept on walking.
I reached the toilet door and, again, had to press my hand between my legs. It was so embarrasing, but I had no choice. I leaked a little more into my knickers, but was able to prevent me from wetting myself completely.
Later, I explained to my boss that I had been stuck on the phone for a long time before he called me in to speak with me. He said that he understand and wouldn't tell anybody. And I got my raise too!
But as you see, I should not go any farther with my self-induced desperation while at work. In private, I will carry on getting myself into urgent situations and tell you all about them. In fact, I was at a wedding just last weekend and become really desperate involuntarily. This will be my next story I think...