After the seventh, I was crying hard again, lost in the pain in my ass and the overriding need to please her. “Number seven, please M—“ She hit ...e with the double again, both of them low, the second entirely on my thighs, but this time I’d been half expecting it and managed to hold. That earned me a good girl. By ten, the end was in sight, and I knew I could make it. For the last one, I arched up as high as I could. “Number twelve, please Miss.” She put something extra into number twelve, and. " I struggled to control my face.Up until this point I had had the impression she used some sort of discrete catheter bag for that, but evidently not. It was hardly the sort of thing that came up in casual conversation. She must have had a superhuman bladder capacity, I'd been to the loos twice during the evening already. She turned her wheelchair around and disappeared in to the bathroom. Composing myself as best I could, I closed the room's front door and followed her. She turned back to face. More

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