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"I have to piss." Frank isn't doing it to be a shit. Not entirely. He actually does need to piss, again, even though he pissed before they started.
Gerard just stares at him. Frank knows it's a what the fuck do I do about that stare, but it really feels like you are being a brat, and I need to figure out how to Get You. Maybe they're the same thing. They're usually the same thing.
"Like, bad," Frank says. "Seriously."
"Jesus fuck," says Gerard, and crosses her arms. "Do you know how long I just spent tying you to that chair?"
Yes. Frank was there. "Yes, ma'am."
"So you want to waste my time."
"No," says Frank. "No, ma'am. I'm just well-hydrated. Fuckin' plump and healthy skin. You like it."
"Shut the fuck up," says Gerard, grabs her keycard, and leaves the hotel room.
Frank squirms. It's harder to hold it when you're naked. He presses his clit into the hard chair. The pressure relieves a little bit of the need.
Gerard is not well-hydrated. She wouldn't understand his struggles. It's always been hard to get her to drink water rather than coffee or Coke or at one point beer, though he's seen her with a water bottle in her hand a little more often since she got married (some Lindsey witchcraft). Frank needs to be hydrated to survive his, um, ordeals, so he tries to be in the habit.
Where the fuck did she go? He needs to piss, like, right now. Frank squirms a little more, trying to hunch over, but the ropes prevent him from moving too much and also press directly into his bladder. He whines. Maybe moans. He grinds his clit harder into the chair. They put a towel over it to protect him from Hotel Germs, but that's not going to protect the chair and the floor from him entirely pissing himself. Fuck, they're going to have to pay for piss damages and explain why somebody pissed everywhere when nobody's drinking tonight and Gerard isn't drinking at all. He's also kind of turned on about it, because he was already kind of turned on from the ropes.
Gerard returns. She's holding something behind her back. She throws the keycard on the bed and comes to kneel in front of Frank.
"Scooch," she says, and grabs Frank's hips and pulls him forward, the towel sliding on the wood chair until Frank's hanging off the seat, the ropes really digging into him and especially his bladder and he actually starts to leak a little bit, whining and trying to hold it back before Gerard presses one of the big cups from the ice machine against him and says, "Let it go, puppy."
Frank obeys. The sound of his piss splattering down the side of the paper cup is obscenely loud. He can't stop. Gerard is watching the cup intently, making sure she doesn't spill a single drop. Frank thinks it's fucked up that this is hot, but which of Frank's turn-ons don't fall into that category?
Gerard's free hand pushes down on Frank's bladder. He whines. Fuck, he can't really see it, but that big cup must be getting full. What if he overflows it?
The last drops trickle into the cup. Gerard pulls the cup away, sets it on the floor, and goes in with her mouth, licking from Frank's pisshole up to his clit and grazing her teeth against his clit so he shivers. She pushes him back into the seat and stands up, looks down at him, her game face on. That is an evil face. Frank loves it. She has a wicked little smile.
"Frankie," she says, "I should have made you piss yourself and rubbed your nose in it. Really gone for it like the bad dog you are. Maybe fucked you with your face in the puddle. But-" she sighs dramatically- "The hotel won't like that. So that's for next time." She reaches down and picks up the cup. "Open up."
Panic spikes through Frank. She's got her fingers on his chin, tilting his face up. "No, ma'am, Mistress, please don't," he babbles.
Gerard stops, raises an eyebrow at him. "Color?"
Frank thinks about it for a long moment. Longer and longer. "Green," he says finally.
"You know what to say if you change your mind," says Gerard, and puts the cup to his lips. The smell of his own piss, fortunately well-hydrated and not rancid, fills his nose and eyes, and Frank presses his lips shut, shaking his head enough that one drop of piss spills from the cup and trickles down his chin. It's hot against his skin, which is already burning with embarrassment. "Do I have to force you?" Gerard asks, her voice low and dangerous.
Yes, thinks Frank, but doesn't open his mouth because she'll pour his own piss in there and he can't do that willingly.
Gerard gets the message and grabs the back of the chair with her other hand, toes off her sock, puts her bare foot up on the seat between Frank's thighs, and presses down on his mons. It doesn't hurt, but Frank thinks it's hot to have his cock stepped on even though he doesn't have one, so he can pretend. His mouth gasps open. Piss pours in instantly, hot and disgusting, and since Gerard keeps pouring Frank has to swallow and swallow to avoid it spilling over. Her knee pins him to the chair.
"You're disgusting," Gerard tells him, leaning over him. "Drinking your own piss. Fucking gulping it down. Does it taste good to you, you fucking freak?"
Frank moans. Piss dribbles over his chin. Gerard stops pouring for a moment and lets him breathe. His cheeks are wet. He's crying. Makes sense, because this is so fucking humiliating, fuck, being made to drink his own piss and getting so turned on about it that she can slip her toes under him and he's wet enough to grind down on them easily.
"You're so turned on," Gerard sneers, pushing her foot farther underneath him and pressing up. "You've got some wires crossed in there, Frankie." She tips the cup back into his lips. Frank drinks like his life depends on it and grinds against the arch of her foot, his wetness making the slide easy. Fuck, it's really messed up how being this humiliated can make him this aroused.
"We should just use you as a urinal, don't you think?" she asks him. "When we're on the road and don't want to stop. I should just force you onto my cock and piss down your throat and make you swallow all of it."
Frank's hips buck. She tips the last of his piss into his mouth and tosses the cup away, replacing it with her fingers. Frank sucks messily and moans and grinds down, his clit so hard the top of her foot's probably going to bruise from it.
"That's it," Gerard tells him. "Come just from drinking your own piss. Come, Frankie."
And, fuck him, Frank does come, stars shooting off behind his eyes. Her fingers shove deeper into his throat. He moans around them and ruts himself stupid.
"Good puppy," says Gerard admiringly when he comes down. She lowers herself to sit on his lap and starts on the ropes. Frank can feel her erection, but he just leans his face into her and lets her untie him. "That was more fun than the vibrator. We've done that one enough times."
"I'd prefer to stick to that next time." Frank laughs hoarsely and buries his face in her shoulder. He's still kind of crying.
"But you liked this?" She undoes the last knot on the back of the chair and pulls the loosened coils over Frank's head.
"Yeah." Frank flexes his fingers and tucks his arms in between them, warming them up between their chests. "It was really hot. Fuckin' tasted awful, though. Don't make me drink yours, seriously."
Gerard's arms drape around him. She kisses his forehead. "No promises." Her voice is teasing, which is a little terrifying.
"I'm so serious," pleads Frank into her neck. "You'd have to take me to the ER and explain to everyone why you poisoned your puppy with fuckin' acid piss." He's not crying anymore, not burning with shame, just slack with the warmth of post-orgasmic cuddles. She's like a big weighted blanket sitting on top of him, her cock still hard in her jeans but deflating slowly, ignored.
She pets the back of his head. "Well, you drank all of it like a good boy."
"Mhm," says Frank, and tilts his face up so she can kiss him and taste his piss on his mouth because she's the real piss freak here, and he loves her.