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The bar was what Daniel called "a dive". Armand stood out there in her tailored silk dress, emerald green and moving like water through Daniel’s hands when she grasped greedily at Armand’s waist. Daniel liked that Armand was out of place; her thoughts were full of a peacock’s pride at having brought the prettiest girl on her arm. Daniel herself fit in perfectly: beat up leather jacket, roughly cut mullet, jeans rough against Armand’s fingers.
Armand kept her hand wrapped around the back of Daniel’s neck and ordered her drinks. Daniel liked sweet cocktails but hated to drink them in public, so it was whiskey here, a suitably butch drink. Only two before Armand switched her to water, and then plain sodas, when Daniel made a face.
"I want you with me tonight, lover," Armand said, low and warm against Daniel’s ear, and the complaints stopped.
The night went on. Armand’s hand remained on Daniel always, ensuring she’d want to stay close. She led her back to her apartment like that, nails digging in at her nape.
She pressed Daniel against the door the moment it was closed, kissing her hard. It was easy to distract her like this: she’d been thinking idly that she needed to excuse herself to the restroom, but she was sidetracked by Armand’s mouth with little effort, her hands roaming, bunching up the dress.
Armand disengaged. She kicked off her heels and sat down on the couch. Daniel was going to step out of the room, then, but Armand drew her skirt up, baring her leg up to the top of her thigh, and Daniel was pulled back into her orbit immediately. Her eyes were hungry. She’d always been obsessed with the place where the top of Armand’s stockings dug into her thigh. She often daydreamed about licking along the seam of them, of biting down against the softness there; in these dreams her teeth were sharp enough to draw Armand’s blood.
She knelt down and put her mouth there now, after she grinned up at Armand with a wink. Armand hooked her leg over Daniel’s shoulder and drew her in, allowing Daniel to suck hickies onto her skin. It was a lot of work, for a mortal to mark a vampire. It was good for Daniel to have things to work at.
Daniel nudged her head further up Armand’s leg. She left one open-mouth kiss against her knickers before Armand pressed the ball of her foot to Daniel’s shoulder and shoved her back, hard enough that she had to catch herself on her hands. She was panting.
"C’mon, babe," Daniel said, in a wheedling tone she knew by now would get her exactly nowhere with Armand. "Let me eat you out."
"Take off your trousers." Daniel, sprawled out on the floor and staring up at Armand with her mouth slightly open, scrambled to obey.
She was still unsteady on her feet when Armand reached out and yanked her forward with a hand fisted in her tank top. She clambered clumsily into Armand’s lap, perched across one thigh, just how Armand wanted her.
She rested her hand along Daniel’s throat, long fingers spread wide. Daniel swallowed under her loose grip. She was thinking about Armand tightening her grasp, about being held so tightly she couldn’t escape it.
Armand nudged her thigh up, rubbing her thumb harshly against the front of Daniel’s throat. "I’ll need to find you a collar, won’t I," she said, nearly absently, like it was an afterthought. Daniel shuddered, her hips moving in restless circles against Armand’s stocking-clad thigh. "Go ahead," Armand said sweetly. "Hands behind your back."
Daniel pressed her wrists together at the base of her spine and began to rut gracelessly against Armand’s thigh. Her head was bowed, at first, and then she caught herself, and raised her eyes defiantly instead, watching Armand watch her. She needed to see the satisfaction there. Armand could have hidden it, could have made Daniel work for even a scrap of appreciation, but she was going to be so cruel to her later. A small kindness now wouldn’t hurt.
Armand curled a hand in Daniel’s hair. "Good boy," she said, and Daniel moaned, a little, riding her harder. The nylon was beginning to chafe her, but the friction was good. The friction, and the delicious pressure, except—
"Ah, shit," Daniel said. Armand knew what she was going to say. The press of her bladder was becoming untenable now; impossible to ignore in favor of other pursuits, even as it added to the hot aching feeling between her legs. Her hips stilled, and she leaned back against Armand’s grip. "Gimme one second, babe, I gotta take a leak."
Armand tightened her hand where it was still buried in Daniel’s curls. "We aren’t finished yet," she said mildly. "You’re going to stay right here for me."
It didn’t take long for Daniel to catch on. She narrowed her eyes, trying to pull herself out of Armand’s lap. Armand wrapped an arm around her waist and held her there, pressing her tight against Armand’s leg. Daniel shivered violently as the implication set in.
"You bitch," Daniel said, half furious and half awed. "You demon. You’re going to make me piss all over your—all over your nice dress—"
She faltered on the words, her face growing flushed as blood crept up her cheeks. She was imagining it: the silk would be ruined, Daniel nothing more than the naughty puppy too poorly trained to stop herself. She whined, burying her face in Armand’s neck.
Armand grabbed the hair at the base of her neck and pulled her away, forcing her to look into Armand’s eyes. "Of course not," she said. "You’ll hold it for me. You can control yourself, can’t you?"
"Fuck you," Daniel said, her thighs shifting against each other as she squeezed her legs together.
Armand stroked her cheek and smiled. She guided Daniel’s hips to start moving again. They did, miserable little hitches now, the ache of the nylon compounding with the pressure of her bladder growing more and more insistent. It felt good each time she pressed down against Armand’s leg, and ached horribly, a sweet heavy pain. Armand had always liked the things that hurt like that, lingeringly, enduringly: it seemed Daniel did too.
Daniel’s hips started to move faster. She was thinking of what would happen if she couldn’t stop herself, if she let go all over Armand’s legs, her dress. The relief, and Armand’s cold disdainful look after, her hand coming down sharp across her ass or her cunt. She jerked hard at that thought, rubbing herself raw. She moaned wretchedly, struggling for control. Her cunt pulsed, heavy with blood.
"Please," she whispered, her hips shuddering to a quivering stop. Armand could feel her agony; she was close to orgasm, but afraid she couldn’t hold it if she came.
"Had enough of humping my leg?" Armand asked politely. Daniel groaned, and nipped at Armand’s jaw, playful and with a real ferocity in it. Armand laughed and gathered her close, letting her resettle herself sidesaddle over Armand’s lap.
For a time she allowed Daniel to curl up miserably like that, clutching her thighs together, mouthing at Armand’s throat. Even just that was delightful: the way her thoughts ran in circles, her awareness and panic at the growing urgency of her need to urinate. Armand deprived her of her shirt, palming her small tits and pinching at her nipples. A kindness, a bright spot of distraction. Daniel was not appreciative, and Armand pinched her harder, until her nipples bloomed bright red and sore.
When Daniel had begun squirming continuously, Armand moved her to sit with her back to Armand’s front. Daniel whined piteously when Armand opened her legs with her mind, so that they were spread over Armand’s own thighs. She clenched down hard, the ache growing sharp. With her legs and cunt spread, she had no leverage to bear down and squeeze.
"Stop," she said, voice shaking. "Stop, I’m serious, I can’t like this—"
"I think you can," Armand said silkily. She pressed two fingers between Daniel’s legs, curious, hooking her chin over Daniel’s shoulder to observe. Daniel was very wet, and red where she had rubbed herself so furiously against Armand’s stocking, already sore. Her clit was sensitive and swollen when Armand traced it, teasing a finger under the hood, making Daniel’s legs jerk with oversensitivity.
"Motherfucker," Daniel hissed. For just a brief moment she lost control of herself, a bare trickle of piss escaping her before she clamped down. The agony was worse now, of course, and the relief so close she could hardly bear to fight against it. She fisted her hands in Armand’s dress, spread out on either side of her on the couch. "Come on, please, Armand, let me up."
"Why?" Armand asked. "I thought you liked it when I played with you." She pinched the hood of Daniel’s clit between two painted fingernails, enjoying the way Daniel’s body shook as she hissed.
Armand withdrew her hand, and instead cupped Daniel just above her pubic mound. She rubbed the soft skin there, the trail of dark hair. Daniel whimpered, flinching back, like she expected Armand to press down. She was thinking about it. She wanted Armand to press down, to make her, to force her to finally let go, it would feel so good, all over Armand, all over the dress, no, fuck, she couldn’t…
"Do you want help, beloved?"
Daniel recognized the danger in the tone; it made her cunt get that much wetter, which made her bear down against the heightened pressure, afraid of leaking again. She made a desperate noise.
Armand tilted Daniel’s face back with one finger at her chin so that she could see her expression. She stared hazily up at Armand, dazed and flushed. Still, she understood what Armand meant. It frightened her when Armand took control of her body as much as it thrilled her. Her heart was pounding now, her blood pulsing everywhere, in her throat and her cunt.
Like always, she wanted what she feared, and more because she feared it. "Please," she whispered. Armand kissed her, and took hold of her with her mind. All of her, just for a moment, so that Daniel could feel that split second of total loss of control. Everything stopped but her heart, beating furiously as the rest of her held still.
Then Armand let go of everything but Daniel’s full bladder. She indulged, briefly, in the fantasy of having her hand pushed up inside Daniel’s skin, touching the organ itself, cradling her where she now held her with only her mind.
Daniel gasped, though Armand had not forced her to hold her breath for very long. She heaved a few quick panicked breaths, and then collapsed forward onto Armand. She didn’t want to relax her legs, even though Armand was keeping her tense where it mattered.
"Man, that feels so weird," Daniel said. And in her mind, a parallel to Armand’s own thoughts, both apprehensive and delighted: it’s almost like she’s inside me.
There was sweat beginning to fall at the edge of Daniel’s hairline. Armand kissed her there, and then maneuvered Daniel back into her previous position, her legs spread out wide over Armand’s. She traced careful fingers along Daniel’s open cunt, teasing at her clit.
Armand was curious if knowing that she could not fail would ease Daniel’s desperation at all. Deliciously, it didn’t; it only made her more anxious and aching and frantic. She could not keep herself still in Armand’s arms, and she could not keep silent, small noises catching in her throat. Armand curled one finger so that her knuckle was pressed tight to Daniel’s clit, the way she liked to touch herself when she was alone, and she rocked her own hips up, urging Daniel to move against Armand’s hand. Each thrust put renewed weight on Daniel’s stomach, reminding her of how full she was, how unrelenting the pressure.
Her skin was so warm as she moved. With her other hand, Armand pressed down against Daniel’s lower belly, the way Daniel had imagined her doing earlier. Her bladder held with the strength of Armand’s will controlling her body, but the ache was exquisite, with none of the ensuing relief she had imagined. It only hurt, and badly, a sharp and unique kind of pain.
She thrashed against Armand’s hands, losing her rhythm entirely. "Fuck, fuck, Armand, that hurts."
"I know," Armand said, rubbing her hand in steady circles, with force, not letting up. A parody of a soothing touch. "You’re being such a good boy, taking it for me."
The whine Daniel let out then was truly desperate. Daniel was experiencing a familiar sensation, a gnawing fear in her heart, the sense of having gotten in entirely over her head. She craved this feeling; she chased it. Armand loved to give it to her.
"There," Armand said, pleased. She moved her hands away, resting them on Daniel’s thighs, rubbing her thumbs against her leg hair. "You’ve been sweating quite a bit, beloved. Why don’t you go and get a drink?"
Daniel let out a short bark of laughter, even as her body shuddered at the thought of it. "Are you fucking serious?"
"Very," Armand said, and bit lightly at the back of Daniel’s neck, not drawing any blood. She pushed her out of her lap, and Daniel stumbled, catching herself on the coffee table in front of the couch, her legs squeezing together instinctively. The change in position shifted the pressure to the forefront of her mind.
When Daniel lingered there instead of moving, Armand hit her just once on the ass. Harder than a human comfortably could, and not nearly as hard as Armand was capable of. Daniel jolted forward, letting out a pathetic sound. "I’m going, I’m going." Her legs shook as she pushed herself to her feet.
"If it’s too hard, you can always crawl," Armand told her kindly.
That got Daniel to stumble; but she didn’t fall. Armand would have to make her crawl next time. In the kitchen, Daniel grabbed a glass, and moved to put it under the kitchen tap.
"No," Armand said. "Fix yourself something you like."
Armand could see the way Daniel swallowed, and reached out with her mind to feel it, the sticky motion of her throat. It seemed Daniel was thirsty, after all. She walked with measured steps to the refrigerator, yanking out the first few things she saw: orange juice, tequila, grenadine.
Armand lay her head on her palm and watched as Daniel made herself a tequila sunrise in a pint glass, a heavy pour on the alcohol, even as her hand shook. Her nipples were tightened against the chill of the refrigerator, still a splotchy red where Armand had played with them. Her thighs shifted restlessly against each other. She was thinking that she would die if Armand made her drink anything, that it was a mistake to have accepted Armand’s gilded offer of control—she’d have given up by now, surely, if she could, she’d have pissed herself on the floor a minute ago, five seconds ago, now, it would be horrible but then she wouldn’t have to bear the ache anymore.
With a smile, Armand beckoned her with one finger. Daniel stumbled forward as though she really was on a leash.
Armand took the glass from Daniel and pulled her into her lap with a hand on her waist. She wrapped her hand in Daniel’s hair, yanking her head back, and pressed the glass to her lips.
Daniel opened her mouth for it, her eyes dark as she watched Armand. She drank, when Armand tipped the glass forward, sweetness on her tongue. Armand watched her throat work as she swallowed, struggling to keep up with the pace of the liquid. She made a strangled, choking noise, a spike of panic. Armand let go of her hair to stroke fingers down her throat, feeling it move and struggle.
The deep pressure in her bladder was getting worse. The effects of the drink were largely psychological, this soon, but they were intense: Daniel felt as though she were going to burst. She kept thinking that she couldn’t hold it, and then remembering that she truly had no choice. Armand would make her keep it all inside. Daniel had asked her to. She had chosen this.
The sound of Armand setting the glass down on the table made Daniel jolt. Armand kissed her, licking the taste of the drink out of her mouth. She pulled Daniel in to straddle her, facing Armand this time, perched up on her knees.
"Armand," Daniel said. She was squirming, barely able to think about anything but the urgent need to relieve herself, growing more desperate by the second.
"Just a little bit more." Armand said. "You can take a little more for me."
Daniel was growing too frantic to argue, which was always a difficult and very rewarding stage to bring her to. She let Armand tip her back, so that she was laying half on the coffee table with her hips in Armand’s lap, her legs spread around her, heels digging into the couch cushions. The position spread her open entirely.
Armand pressed two fingers into her, the first time she’d really fucked Daniel all night. She opened for them easily, shifting her hips. Only thinking once Armand was inside how it would feel right now. Armand’s other hand rested over her stomach, a warm threatening weight.
The third finger was a tighter fit, but Daniel groaned and took it. She was pushing back against Armand’s thrusts, now, desperate to be fucked if she wasn’t able to find any other relief. The sensations were all sharper than she was used to, heightened by how full she was, how badly she needed to piss. She wanted to come, and was desperately afraid of what would happen if she did, of how it would feel if Armand forced her to hold it through her orgasm, how it would feel if Armand didn’t...
Just then, Armand started to press in with her fourth finger. Daniel began struggling in earnest when she realized what Armand intended to do, shaking her head against the table.
"God, please, Armand, I can’t."
"You can," Armand assured her. "You’ve taken it before." Armand had fit her entire hand inside Daniel on several very memorable previous occasions. Daniel had never been this desperate, of course. It had never hurt her so badly to be full.
"Evil," Daniel said. Mumbled, really. She had further invective to share, clear in her mind, but she was finding it difficult to speak. It was all drowned out by her whimpers as Armand began to fit her thumb inside. Armand rubbed her other thumb against the sweaty crease of Daniel’s thigh, soothing her as she whined. "Armand, no, please don’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—"
"You will," Armand told her, as she forced her knuckles inside. Daniel wailed, her hands fisted in her own hair for lack of anything else to hold onto. She was deliciously hot around Armand, clenching down hard. Armand’s entire first inside her pressed up agonizingly against her bladder, and her instinct to bear down only made it worse. She was caught in a loop of desperation, unable to do anything to alleviate the pain. She couldn’t even give up and relieve the pressure by pissing herself. Armand was a force inside her, stopping her. Making her take it, helping her suffer so beautifully.
Armand cupped her hand over Daniel’s stomach. Daniel moaned wretchedly when Armand pressed down, her bladder caught between the pressure of both of Armand’s hands. It was like a lit up fire inside her mind; Daniel was barely able to process the way it felt. "It hurts," she cried, "Armand, please, it hurts."
"I know," Armand crooned. She rubbed Daniel’s stomach, relishing how even the smallest touch, the smallest extra bit of weight compounded itself in Daniel’s mind. She barely had any room to move, and still she wriggled endlessly against Armand’s hold. Desperate for any small relief she could find, and always failing to find it.
"Please," Daniel said. She had bitten her lip nearly bloody. "Please, Armand, I can’t take it anymore."
"Is there something you want, Daniel? You know you only have to ask."
She was crying, now, at the ache, at the humiliation of being forced to ask to debase herself. "Please," she ground out, refusing to whisper.
"Yes? I’m listening."
"Please let me piss." Daniel shuddered, the violent shame of it rising up hot throughout her whole body.
"Are you sure?" Armand asked her. "Like this? I thought you liked this dress."
Another sob shook through her. Strong, bullheaded Daniel, laid out and crying in Armand’s lap. "Please, Armand, I have to go, please let me, please, it hurts, please—"
Armand rubbed her hand lightly against Daniel’s stomach, and abandoned her control. Daniel felt it immediately; she clenched down instinctively, her hips moving frantically. She was caught there, for a moment, desperate for relief and unable to let go. For that moment, Armand enjoyed the beauty of her desperation. Holding herself back, even now, a proud and desperate creature, her handsome Daniel.
Then she took pity on her. She spread her hand out over Daniel’s pelvis, her thumb hooked against her clit, rubbing her there hard as she pressed down against Daniel’s bladder.
Daniel wailed, anguished, and finally had no choice to let go. Her toes curled in the couch on either side of Armand’s hips. The piss flowed out of her in a rush, hot against Armand’s skin where she was still buried inside her to the wrist. Daniel’s hips were jerking entirely outside of her control; she was coming at the same time, as the rush of euphoria filled her, the easy simple joy of the cessation of pain.
Armand bent forward, biting down against her thigh. She curled up inside Daniel in every way she could, her teeth in her veins, her hand in her cunt, her mind inside Daniel’s heart, drunk on the sensation. The desperation and the joy were vibrant on her tongue. Daniel was crying still, tears as hot as the flow from between her legs.
Armand’s dress was soaked, of course. Daniel pissed for a long time, and near the end she began to whine, bringing her arms and elbows up to cover her face, finally lucid enough to be embarrassed. Armand unlatched from her thigh, surveying the mess of a boy in her lap.
The flow was finally slowing. Daniel whimpered, sensitive with a phantom ache in her pelvis. Armand pet her gently, on her stomach and through her pubic hair, much of it now wet.
"There you go," she crooned. "Good boy, let it out. Doesn’t that feel better?"
Daniel twisted and moaned as Armand slowly pulled her hand out of her. She was truly beautiful like this, spread out and soaked over Armand’s lap. Tears still slipping down her red face, her thighs trembling, sore from how tense she’d been holding them.
"Your dress," she said, in a small voice. She couldn’t bear to look down and see it, so Armand showed her in her mind: the wet silk clinging to Armand’s thighs, the heat of Daniel’s urine seeping into her skin. "I ruined it."
"You did," Armand said. She pinched Daniel’s clit hard, just once. "You wanted to. You begged me for it."
Daniel was shaking her head. "It hurt," she said. "I had to, it hurt."
Armand wanted to gather her up and hold her close forever. "Sweet thing. You can’t stop yourself. It’s alright. That’s why you have me to take care of you."
She stroked Daniel’s hair, her cheek. Daniel nuzzled into it, desperate for the affection, her panting breaths hot and damp against Armand’s skin. She began to mouth at Armand’s wrist, holding the bone between her teeth and biting gently, gnawing.
Armand allowed it. There was something nearly sweet in the gesture, like a pup playing with its much bigger and stronger mother, snapping its teeth. Stray, unfocused thoughts bubbled up as Daniel chewed. Armand’s hand sharp against her pussy; she really did want to be punished, Armand would have to take care of that soon. The lingering soreness of being forced to hold her urine for so long, how she still liked the feeling, and hated that she did. The taste of Armand’s blood, the slow pulse she could feel as she licked at her wrist.
"You can drink later, beloved," she said. "You’ll complain if we don’t wash up first."
Daniel’s eyes blinked open. They were nearly clear, now, when she met Armand’s gaze. She groaned, and dug her heel vindictively into Armand’s side, just under her ribs. "My couch. Warn me next time, I’ll put some plastic down."
"Hmm," Armand said. "They make something like that for dogs these days, don’t they?"
Daniel made an indignant sound, indistinguishable from the noises she’d made while Armand was fucking her. Armand smiled, and picked her up. Daniel was heavy in her arms, clinging, complaining sleepily in Armand’s ear all the way to the bathroom.