Omorashi Femdom: A Collection of Men Desperate and Wetting Themselves for Women

Stuck Elevator Desperation

The plan was going perfectly.

The head of my department, Jonah Kieran, had been busy all weekend dealing with a meltdown in the QA, which could cost our company millions in lost customers if we didn't get it fixed this weekend. Jonah had neat black hair, short and parted to the left and impeccable skin. His eyes were hazel, and I would stare into them whenever he was focused on a task. He was even wearing a gray suit the day of which would look glamorous when soaked in pee. I swore he caught me and gave a flustered smile. Supposedly the man turned forty seven this year, but I have a hard time believing it based on his boyish attitude and looks. I haven't seen him not get carded out of the dozen or so company trips to the bars, sometimes he was one of the only ones asked.

He asked me to come in all day both days this weekend, and I had my mind made up to finally try it out. As his executive assistant, in addition to fetching and copying documents, managing calls, I made him coffee from 6 am to 6 pm. I was pleased he hadn't noticed the taste of the diuretic I had stirred into each one. That was one of the riskiest parts of the plan. I made sure he had plenty of water too, but it was hardly safe to spike those, no taste or color to hide the pills in.

This alone had led to him hurrying to the bathroom between or even during meetings and calls. Jonah nearly ran to the toilet on one occasion, not forty five minutes after he last used it, leading to an embarrassing exchange where he reassured a pair of concerned co-workers that he was feeling okay.

I had taken initiative and ordered a large bowl of Pho for him as he took a long call over dinner, which he always loved, and was never picky with his meals. The extra liquid was not enough of an insurance, so I mixed more diuretics. I explained I was concerned about his stomach as I laid him the full bowl on a tray atop is fancy dark wooden desk. The corner office with the midrise view in two windows had intimidated me on my first days but it felt like my own office by now.

"Ah, you know Deirdre I've actually been needing to pee a lot for some reason. Do you know if that something that stress can cause, or should I talk to a doctor?"

"Stress can cause anything, but I'd ask the doc just in case. A man your age, you can never be sure." I laughed. He shook his head but smiled regardless.

"Very funny... forget I asked." He compared two contracts holding them up over his desktop's keyboard.

"Ah, I guess the soup won't help with that," I replied.

"It's fine, I won't have any more calls or meetings after seven anyways, no one to call or meet. I'll just send a few emails and call it a day. Lord knows it's been a long one."

I nodded in agreement and left him to his own devices. I put the maintenance man on standby via text. I received a text back that he was in position almost immediately. After his spiked soup dinner, Jonah went to the bathroom twice over the next hour, before telling me he was packing up. This time of day, this time of year, not there would be almost no one else in the building. Besides my friend in the maintenance was quitting next week anyways.

It was me, Jonah, and Kathleen, an intern at the elevator heading out at the same time. I texted my contact "we are the next elevator down" as I watched the elevator rise from the first to the seventh floor. Kathleen was a slight blonde fresh from college who had been quick to pick up skills. I was a little envious of the doors her MBA opened to her since we became friends. We seemed the same sort of person, and yet she could make triple my salary by the end of her first year. Still, she was kind, and I hoped the company kept her on. I'm not evil.

Right on cue, the elevator lurched to a halt on the way down with a softening electrical hum. The regular lights replaced with the pale emergency lighting. We were halfway between the fifth and sixth floors. I checked my texts.