Page 31 of Shamefully Trained

He looked entirely unmoved. “Yes.”

I stared at him.

“Please,” I said. “Just… just go outside for a minute.”

“No.”

The word hit me like cold water.

I laughed once, a tiny unbelieving sound. “Porter… um, sir… I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He nodded toward my clothes. “Get dressed. You’ll pee at my apartment.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“It’s five minutes away. You can hold it.”

The humiliating thing was that I wasn’t entirely sure I could. Or rather, I could, obviously, because women did, but the need had gone from abstract to acute so fast that panic rose with it.

“Please.” My voice came out breathless and thin. “I really have to go.”

“And I’m telling you that you do not have permission yet.”

My mouth parted. Everything inside me seemed to tilt.

Permission.

That word, applied to peeing, should have broken whatever spell remained. It should have made the whole thing so absurd, so insulting, that I snatched up my things and told him to go to hell.

Instead I stood there in my damp panties, still trembling from being denied an orgasm, my bladder throbbing, my thoughts fraying at the edges, and felt another shiver of helpless arousal at the fact that he meant even this.

“Dress,” he said again.

CHAPTER 10

Alex

I obeyed.

I pulled on my blouse with clumsy fingers. My skirt. Each movement seemed to make the pressure in my bladder more distinct. I could hardly think straight. My body felt divided against itself in too many ways to count—aching and wet and unfinished and now painfully full. By the time I stepped into my shoes, I felt as if the room had become slightly unreal around the edges.

He unlocked the bathroom door and looked back at me once.

“Come.”

I followed him out.

The café seemed impossibly normal. A spoon clinked against porcelain somewhere. Someone laughed softly near the window. A woman in a camel coat stood waiting for her order. I walked behind him through all of it with my face hot, my muscles clenched, and the terrible awareness that under my careful clothes my panties were soaked with my need and I had not been allowed to relieve myself.

Outside, the cooler air struck my skin and almost made me gasp. I almost expected Porter to take my arm, as if to march me to his apartment where he could teach me the lesson I really needed, but he didn’t. He only set an unhurried pace along the sidewalk, and I kept up beside him because I was too rattled to do anything else.

Every step jarred me. My need to pee ebbed and flowed with the movement. I tried to walk normally and failed. I could feel myself becoming more and more conscious of my own body in the lowest, most humiliating way.

After half a block, I said, too quickly and too pleadingly, “How far?”

“About four minutes now.”

My eyes widened. “And then what?”