I've never been afraid of the dark. In fact I've always found it comforting. Even on the darkest of nights there's always some light, and the human eye adjusts rapidly. Not as good as a cat, but we can see in the dark, at least make out shapes and movements. So what was terrifying now was the fact that I was blind and it clearly wasn't dark. The woman who - I assume - kidnapped me, was walking around confidently, and obviously could see where I was because she was able to pour water on my face and not get more than a trickle into my mouth.<br/><br/>And I had no idea what was happening around me. There could be a TV camera crew in the room filming the whole thing and keeping silent. I could be on display to the world, or this could be a small dimly lit basement, or a bright and sterile laboratory. What monsters lurked at the edges of the room making no sound until they were summoned?<br/><br/>"AAAAAGGGGHHHH!" I screamed loud as my left wrist was crushed and my right wrist impaled by something heavy and hard, and in the case of my right wrist, sharp. That had really hurt, and I could still feel it after it stopped. I could still move all my fingers and touch the tips with my thumb, but maybe she<i>had</i>meant 'break' in the literal sense?<br/><br/>The heels<i>tak-tak-tak </i>away, and<i>tak-tak-tak </i>back. Something tickles my midriff just below the strap I can feel there, and also my upper thighs, and I flinch away, or try to. And then there is a weight, soft and a lot larger than on my wrists. This presses down on my belly, soft and round. Is she sitting on me? I try to speak, better able to make noises now that I have had some liquid in my mouth, even if it was nowhere near enough. something touching me, a hand? Yes a hand. "Hhhhgh!" I exclaimed eloquently.<br/><br/><i>"Shh..." </i>she tells me, and a hand caresses my left breast, then grips my right breast. My breasts aren't exactly small. I've been described as "buxom" before now. Something tickles my face, a different something than tickled my belly and thighs. I think the first thing might have been her skirt as she sat on my belly. This is lighter, looser. Something lands in my mouth and I recall her saying I must be thirsty?<br/><br/>WATER! Oh god! Water, trickling into my mouth, quenching the fire in my parched throat. If only my tongue were free to enjoy it too. In that moment and just for that brief moment, I loved her! In fact I had begun to speculate that maybe there was someone else, someone kinder.<br/><br/>But the flow of water doesn't stop. She keeps pouring it into my mouth, and I can't stop her. I try not swallowing and my nose is pinched shut until I do. and all the while she is sitting on my belly, her backside pressing down on my already full bladder. Finally the water stops. Why, I don't know. Most likely whatever she was carrying it in is empty. But it's already too late. I can feel the pee beginning to trickle down the inside of my pussy, a hot, wet rivulet the begins to form a warm wet puddle under my buttocks. I let out a soft moan of dismay as I can no longer hold it and like<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D_PSZEvsYD6o&amp;hash=c62667146e410c6699406263e64fadc7" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_PSZEvsYD6o" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">a scene in a movie of a damn breaking</a>, the trickle becomes a stream which becomes a river which becomes a flood.<br/><br/>I hope in vain that the woman tormenting me doesn't notice, but how can she not? I get the feeling that the reason she wanted me to drink the water was to have exactly this effect. It's embarrassing - no, mortifying. I wish in that moment that she would kill me. I don't want to be lying naked on the floor pissing.<br/><br/>Tears well up in my eyes and a sob escapes my throat. I don't want to cry, but I can't help it. I'm too scared not to.