Tangled Rose (7 page)

She vowed that she wouldn’t mention it again, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how well his plan was working, but as soon as there was a commercial break, she begged him again to let her use the toilet.

“Please don’t do this to me, just untie me for two minutes and then I’ll be back on the bed where you want me.”

“I said you could go after the movie,” Fat Boy said, smiling. He was enjoying the situation immensely.

Rose gritted her teeth but there was nothing she could do. Maybe that was the game. If she could make it to end of the movie he’d let her use the toilet. If not, he’d let her soil herself. He was a cruel man, a brute animal, and she hated him.

The commercials seemed to go on forever, and then, when the movie finally came back on, Rose thought she wasn’t going to make it. The movie seemed to go on and on and finally, when it seemed like it was drawing close to a conclusion, it broke again for another set of commercials.

By now her bladder was burning. She was in agony. She was dying to pee, or even just to release some of the urine in her bladder but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t wet herself in front of him. It was too demeaning. It was the ultimate humiliation. She even thought that if there was one thing more humiliating than what he’d done to her on that very first night, it was this.

“I can’t wait any longer,” she said when more commercials came on.

“Now, now,” Fat Boy said. “I said you could pee after the movie. Don’t make me get angry with you.”

Making him angry was the last thing she wanted to do. She was his captive, his prisoner. He could do anything to her. But she needed to empty her bladder and she just couldn’t wait any longer. She relaxed her bladder ever so slightly and felt the warm sensation of pee flowing through her, but immediately she stopped before releasing any urine. She just couldn’t do it, not with him sitting there looking at her like that.

The last part of the movie seemed to take forever. When Rose finally saw the credits roll in she almost cried. She’d never been so relieved to see the end of a movie in all her life.

“Now,” she said, “untie me, quickly.”

She felt ready to burst. Her bladder was burning. All of her muscles in that area were as taut and tense as possible. She wasn’t even sure if she’d make it to the washroom from the bed.

“Please, hurry,” she said.

Fat Boy got up from his seat and it seemed like he was moving excruciatingly slowly.

“Hurry, please,” she said again. She was desperate.

But when Fat Boy came over to her he didn’t untie her at all. Instead he opened the zipper of his jeans and took out his hard, swollen cock. He looked really horny, really aroused, and Rose lost all hope.

She started to sob.

“Please, you said I could use the washroom after your movie.”

“Ah, ah,” Fat Boy said, wagging a finger in front of her as if she was a child. “I said you could pee after the movie.”

“So untie me so I can pee.”

“I don’t need to untie you. Pee where you are.”

XIII

R
OSE LOOKED UP AT FAT BOY.
She couldn’t believe he was actually doing this to her. It was torture.

“Please don’t make me do this,” she said.

His face was firm and stern. He didn’t react. He just looked at her with a cold, unpitying gaze. He was slowly stroking his penis while he stood there, looking down at her.

“No,” she said. “I won’t do it.”

Fat Boy laughed. “You won’t? We’ll see.”

He got up onto the end of the bed and sat on it. He was by her feet, his eyes moving slowly over every part of her naked body. It made her skin crawl. His gaze made her feel as if horrible insects were running all over her. She tried to look away but she couldn’t. All she could do was look into his horrible face. It was a face she would always remember. Years later, when she would see Fat Boy, she would remember everything he’d done to her. Maybe one day she would even be able to make him pay for this.

He was sitting between her wide-open legs, looking at her pussy and stroking his cock. He put a finger in his mouth and then touched her clit. Rose almost cried when he did it.

“No,” she cried. “Please.”

But it was too late. The sensation of Fat Boy gently rubbing her clit with his wet finger was too much. She tried to hold her muscles as tightly shut as she could but she could feel them releasing.

“That’s it, bitch,” Fat Boy said.

Rose looked up at him and felt tears welling up in her eyes. How had her life brought her to this point? How was God letting this happen to her?

“Come on,” Fat Boy said and began stroking her clit more rapidly.

Slowly, very slowly, almost too slowly to even notice, Rose’s bladder began to leak. She couldn’t believe it was happening. It was a surreal moment, even more surreal than everything else that she’d been forced to go through during the past few days. It was that very moment that she realized that everything that was happening to her was real. This was her life now. It wasn’t some game someone was playing with her. It wasn’t a trick. It wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t going to go away. It was really the world she was in and it was never going to end. This was going to be her life forever and ever.

“That’s it,” Fat Boy said as a gentle stream of urine poured out of her. He had his finger on her clit still and he moved it down to her vagina and inserted it.

Rose was crying. She felt so utterly humiliated, so utterly worthless. Her pee was getting all over Fat Boy’s hand, making a mess of the bed, and getting on her thighs and butt too. She looked at Fat Boy and saw that he was leering at her with the hungriest, most lustful face she had ever seen. Once she’d started to pee she just couldn’t stop. The warm liquid flowed onto her butt and thighs and it was almost a comforting feeling. The warmth of it almost felt good.

When she finally finished peeing she began to sob. Fat Boy had such a calm expression on his face, almost as if he’d just orgasmed.

“That’s my good girl,” he said. “That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?”

Rose couldn’t speak. She just let the tears fall down her face silently. She felt disgusting. She was covered in urine. The bed was soaked in it. She looked over at the bathroom door. Why couldn’t he have let her go in there? It was such a small thing, being allowed to pee in a toilet, privately, and now that she’d been deprived of it she realized how important such a simple liberty was. It was impossible to have dignity and respect without it.

She pulled against the cords that bound her to the bed but there was no slack in them and she only succeeded in aggravating the cuts around her ankles and wrists.

“Calm down,” Fat Boy said. “You’re not going anywhere for a while.”

He still had his finger in her vagina and he started to slide it in and out of her.

“No,” she said, “please stop. Please stop. Please.”

But it was almost as if the more she protested, the more pleasure he got out of it. He slid his finger in and out, reaching as far in as he could. She didn’t know what was wrong with him? He was horrible. Why did he want to finger a girl who’d just peed all over herself? It was disgusting.

But from the look on his face it was clear he was getting pleasure from it. He was fingering her with one hand and stroking his own penis with the other. Rose felt horrible. She was covered in pee. It was a disgusting feeling. All dignity was lost, all respect. Everything about the situation was perfectly calculated to be as degrading and humiliating as possible.

Fat Boy was rubbing his cock, sliding his palm over the bulbous head of his penis, bringing himself close to orgasm. He was fingering Rose harder and harder and it was everything she could do just to stop herself from screaming. She tried to dissociate herself from the experience. She told herself that it would all be over soon. If she could just keep her mind away from what Fat Boy was doing to her, if she could just keep herself separate from the experience, it would come to an end by itself.

Fat Boy was breathing harder and harder and he got up on his knees and leaned over her. He stopped fingering her, which was a relief. He was right over her, on his knees, holding himself up with one hand while rubbing his cock with the other.

Then he gasped, right in her face, and at the same moment, she felt the squirt of his jizz shoot out of his cock and land on her leg. She wanted to shut her eyes but for some reason she couldn’t. She just stared into Fat Boy’s awful face, the throes of orgasm spread all over it. He squirted again and another string of jizz landed on her and began to slowly slide down the inside of her thigh. It felt slimy and sticky and disgusting.

“Fuck, yeah,” Fat Boy sighed as he finished his orgasm.

Rose lay there, utterly in shock. She was lying in her own urine, in a soaking wet bed, with Fat Boy’s slimy semen sliding down her thigh. She’d stopped crying at some point and was now just staring up at the ceiling, the fan blades continuing in their incessant circular paths above her like the stars of the night sky.

She wanted to scream but she felt as if her throat was blocked. Emotion and pain and sadness had a hold of her chest and throat and prevented her from making any sound. She just lay there in silence as Fat Boy dozed in his chair. She didn’t know if she slept or not but at some point in that endless night the light of the dawn began to rise up in the east and flood into the room through its single window.

XIV

W
HEN FAT BOY WOKE UP
in the morning he looked like a man who’d slept in a chair. He was disheveled and unwashed. His stubble looked even more scraggly and rough than it had the night before. Rose wouldn’t have thought he could have looked any messier than he had the night before but he did. He stretched in the chair and then stood.

He looked down at Rose. She was wide awake, still in shock because of what he’d done to her the night before, and she just stared at him. The smell of urine coming from the bed was overpowering and revolting.

For some reason, he looked away. Rose wasn’t sure if he was ashamed of what he’d done, or just disgusted at the sight of her. She’d been lying in her own urine for the entire night, completely tied up. His jizz had slowly dripped down off her leg during the night and added itself to the stains on the bedsheets.

Rose felt that she was so disgusting that not even Fat Boy could look at her. She wondered if she’d ever be able to recover from this feeling. Would she ever be able to feel clean and beautiful again? Would she ever be able to get the stink of urine and semen from her body? Would she ever again feel the way she had before she’d been taken?

She didn’t know.

“Untie me,” she said to Fat Boy.

She surprised herself. She hadn’t known she was able to speak. Fat Boy looked at her as if determining whether or not to do as she’d asked. Surely he couldn’t just leave her like this. He may be a fully patched member of the DRMC but he wasn’t the chapter president and he couldn’t do something like this to club property and expect to get away with it. She wasn’t
his
property, she was the club’s property. It was his job to guard her not cover her in semen and urine and leave her ruined so that no other man would want to touch her.

Before he could finish making up his mind, there was a knock at the door.

Fat Boy looked at his watch. He seemed worried.

“Who is it?” he called out.

“It’s Patrice. I’m taking over guard duty. Why is the door locked?”

“Just wait,” Fat Boy said. “I’m coming now.”

Fat Boy looked around the room. He seemed panicked. That confirmed Rose’s suspicion. He wasn’t supposed to do this to her. If Patrice told Serge how he’d found her, covered in piss and jizz, Fat Boy would get in deep trouble. At least that was what Rose hoped.

Fat Boy went into the washroom and came back with a towel. Rose thought he was going to wipe her legs and pussy in some desperate attempt to remove the evidence of what he’d been doing to her. But he didn’t. He knew he was out of time, his number was up. He left the towel by the television and got a strange grin on his face.

“Patrice!” Rose called out.

“Shut up,” Fat Boy growled.

Patrice knocked on the door again. “What’s going on in there? Fat Boy, open the door.”

Fat Boy looked down at Rose with a fierce look on his face.

“You just shut the fuck up, bitch. If you don’t want to see your little boyfriend out there get hurt.”

What did he mean? Was he threatening Patrice? He must really not have wanted anyone to see what he’d done. Rose was scared. She didn’t want to see anything bad happen to Patrice.

“Just untie me,” she said to Fat Boy. “I’ll go clean up.”

It was the best way she could help diffuse the situation.

“Fat Boy,” Patrice called from outside the door. “Open up right now or I’m calling Serge.”

“Just wait,” Fat Boy said.

He began opening the cords around Rose’s wrists.

“Hurry,” she said.

She had a reason of her own for wanting him to hurry. She didn’t want Patrice to see her like this. She felt disgusting, like a pig, and she was sure that Patrice would never see her the same way again if he saw her looking like this. He’d be repulsed by her.

“What the hell’s going on in there?” Patrice said.

Rose heard him bang his shoulder against the door. He was trying to burst in.

“I told you to fucking wait a minute,” Fat Boy said and continued to fumble with the cords on Rose’s wrists.

Rose looked up at him desperately.

“This is no good,” he said. “I can’t fucking untie them.”

He got up from the bed and went over to his jacket.

“What are you doing?” Rose said.

But before he answered she saw that he’d taken a handgun from his jacket and was checking to see that it was loaded. Rose saw everything. They were headed for disaster. Someone was going to get hurt.

“Patrice,” she called out, but it was already too late.

Right at that moment Patrice crashed against the door and the lock broke. The door burst open and Patrice came rushing in after it, falling to the ground.