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Daphne Gunn
The Wet Ransom (Gay Kidnapping, Watersports)
The Wet Ransom (Gay Kidnapping, Watersports)
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When Jasper Cross awakens tied up and blindfolded in the back of a truck, his captor assures him that the kidnapping will only last until his wealthy parents can deliver his ransom. But after a humiliating piss accident in his pants, they both realize just how much hotter it is to see Jasper lose control in more ways than one! Can Jasper admit to these shameful desires, to make this a weekend to remember?
Warning: this 11,500 word erotic novella contains scenes of gay watersports, desperation, accidental wetting, kidnapping, bondage, spanking, BDSM, rough sex, and the humiliation of a spoiled trust fund brat; adults only!
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Excerpt:
As last night was hazy, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d used the restroom. But by now, my lower stomach felt bloated and tight, aching from holding on for so long. I wondered if he was listening to me, would hear me if I were to shout or throw myself against the solid door. I carefully swung my legs out of bed, wincing as my bladder squished, and paced to and from the door in indecision.
When I leaned up against it, peering out the small window into the hall, I could see nothing. It was pitch out there too, not even the glow of any emergency lighting, much less an actual window. I kicked the door, and it resounded with a metallic thud. He would hear me, if he were anywhere nearby. Bang – bang – bang – I kicked at it methodically. Whether he would come back was another matter.
I stopped every few minutes, straining to listen for any movement in the building. Nothing, nothing at all. Fuck, maybe he had left me here. The thought of being completely alone was worse than the thought of being trapped alone with him. “Hey!” I hollered into the glass, wondering if it was soundproof. “Let me out!”
But I had exhausted my strength, my thighs aching in addition to my stomach. I returned to pacing, lifting a shoulder awkwardly to my face to wipe off the sweat and few stray tears. Goddammit.
Really, my need to piss was paramount, as stupid as it felt. He could keep me shackled in the dark, at least for a little while longer, if I were only able to relieve myself. At the first warning shock that reverberated from my belly up my spine, I gasped, doubling over. “Fuck,” I said into the darkness. I really didn’t want to piss myself, but it seems that that was what my captor had set me up for.
I paced back toward the door, hoping against hope to hear him in the hall, coming to get me, to tell me that morning had come and I was free. Anything at all. But when I was only met with more silence and darkness, I slumped against the door, crossing my legs in desperation.
“Where are you, you stupid goddamned…” I muttered, giving the door one final frustrated kick. No answer, of course. And as the minutes dragged on, I was certain that he had simply left me here, for dead and wet-pantsed. Fuck.
Pacing made it worse, my bladder sloshing with each step. So I simply slumped along the wall, legs entwined tightly to hold back the inevitable flood.
Warning: this 11,500 word erotic novella contains scenes of gay watersports, desperation, accidental wetting, kidnapping, bondage, spanking, BDSM, rough sex, and the humiliation of a spoiled trust fund brat; adults only!
---
Excerpt:
As last night was hazy, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d used the restroom. But by now, my lower stomach felt bloated and tight, aching from holding on for so long. I wondered if he was listening to me, would hear me if I were to shout or throw myself against the solid door. I carefully swung my legs out of bed, wincing as my bladder squished, and paced to and from the door in indecision.
When I leaned up against it, peering out the small window into the hall, I could see nothing. It was pitch out there too, not even the glow of any emergency lighting, much less an actual window. I kicked the door, and it resounded with a metallic thud. He would hear me, if he were anywhere nearby. Bang – bang – bang – I kicked at it methodically. Whether he would come back was another matter.
I stopped every few minutes, straining to listen for any movement in the building. Nothing, nothing at all. Fuck, maybe he had left me here. The thought of being completely alone was worse than the thought of being trapped alone with him. “Hey!” I hollered into the glass, wondering if it was soundproof. “Let me out!”
But I had exhausted my strength, my thighs aching in addition to my stomach. I returned to pacing, lifting a shoulder awkwardly to my face to wipe off the sweat and few stray tears. Goddammit.
Really, my need to piss was paramount, as stupid as it felt. He could keep me shackled in the dark, at least for a little while longer, if I were only able to relieve myself. At the first warning shock that reverberated from my belly up my spine, I gasped, doubling over. “Fuck,” I said into the darkness. I really didn’t want to piss myself, but it seems that that was what my captor had set me up for.
I paced back toward the door, hoping against hope to hear him in the hall, coming to get me, to tell me that morning had come and I was free. Anything at all. But when I was only met with more silence and darkness, I slumped against the door, crossing my legs in desperation.
“Where are you, you stupid goddamned…” I muttered, giving the door one final frustrated kick. No answer, of course. And as the minutes dragged on, I was certain that he had simply left me here, for dead and wet-pantsed. Fuck.
Pacing made it worse, my bladder sloshing with each step. So I simply slumped along the wall, legs entwined tightly to hold back the inevitable flood.
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