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  1. thdrsjtr

    Breakfast

    From the album: My Omo Art

    Edward likes to cook. And he likes to pamper with delicious breakfasts. The fact is that sometimes his time devoted to cooking replaces the time for self-care.
  2. did kim austad do any diaper related clips? these 2 are the nearest i could find 480P_2000K_300044922.mp4 480P_2000K_296831141.mp4
  3. I have never been that fortunate in my life as I was that day. In India train system booking needs to be done about a month ago if you want to confirm the tickets but your seat allotment is done only a day before this. I had to travel in a train for 14hrs with nigh journey and I had a confirmed booking with lower berth in the middle of the coach . I boarded at around 9 PM at 10 PM a station came where an elderly women boarded and she had a ticket but her ticket was of RAC (In RAC your ticket is confirmed but you have to share the seat with another passenger and the seat is towards ) the other end generally no elder is given that seat I guess who ever got her the ticket forgot to use elder quota. So I felt bad for the lady as she had a fractured arm too. I offered her my seat and we exchanged places but what happened after was truly shocking I knew someone will come but I never imagined it would be a girl she boarded at around 10:30 and by that time old lady was sleep in my lower berth and just like any other Indian lady she shouted and said "Ye meri seat hai " which means this is my seat to which I had to say mine too I tried to sound as gentle as I can after that just like any other train the uncle's from our compartment came and tried to rescue the poor lady I told them the matter and they finally made her believe that yes the seat is given to both It was really awkward for me I just sat in one end while she was offered seat by the uncle's as I did for the elderly women but for some reason she said she is fine she we can manage so this drama went till 11.00 now was sitting and was busy on the phone suddenly she asked me my age I was 18 that time and she looked about 21-24 but I didn't asked . To ease this tense situation I want near the door and talked to my mother when I came she was ready to sleep and told me she will take the end towards the window. I was glad we both were thin so it was not that hard to sleep although the length of seats was less than my height so I had to leave my feet hanging in air after sometime of scrolling Youtube shorts I went to sleep and because I was on the opposite side it was almost impossible to go anywhere even if she wanted to but she was the one to chose the window side 😂. This is where the real fun begins for you guys The next morning she was awake and I was sleeping as I went to bed around 12.30 at night when I opened my eyes she was awake and was looking towards the window with one hand hold her jeans which made me feel she was desperate I looked for time on my phone and It was about 8.30 AM the moment I sat she said ''side please'' and rushed towards the washroom and I was curious and had to wash my face too so after a minute I took my brush from my bag and went towards the wash basin She was already inside but after her a man came and tried to open the door which did opened and gave me a peak of panties wet and still dripping as she tried to close the door this time with the lock the guy who knocked didn't see anything other than her hand I think as toilets are designed to maximize the privacy but she was not actually peeing in the squatter could be due to hygiene reasons or maybe she was too desperate. On the two seconds view I saw her getting her panties up while she was still peeing to close the door. I was done with brushing my teeth so went back to my seat but It took her 5 minutes more to come could be because she was wet 😂. I forgot to tell what she wore a cream colored jeans with red top and there was patch clearly visible from the front but negligible from the back. In the mean time due to some technical reason our train came to a halt for an hour and we were about 1.5 hours late we talked a bit. I was unable to concentrate anywhere else other that the wet patch so I started playing games on my phone to distract myself from it and then the train stated and her station was first and mine was just behind hers. For those who don't understand the complex structure of railways I am attaching some pictures(Not mine) for better understanding.
  4. Chapter 1: The Will of Paelea West of the Great Shimmering Sea, on the Easternmost tip of the continent of Plethoran where the great griffins migrate each winter, there lies an ancient fortified city called Gumbacha. It is an ornate city, blessed by generations of stone architects and scripts who have etched life into every home, palace and temple. The grand bazaar is flanked by four great gods that loom over the bustling crowds, and most robes are adorned with gargoyles in the shapes of the beasts of the plains; wyverns, manticores, chimeras, basilisks and gorgons sneer down at the denizens of city. The humans, elves, fairies, gnomes and nymphs that frequent this city believe in great magicks imbued in these gargoyles, that would protect them in a time of need. Most of these statues, like many of the buildings, predate written history and their purpose has long since been forgotten. This is especially true for one temple in particular, a marble masterpiece that stretches towards the sky. Its grandeur is evident in every meticulously carved detail and the exterior of the temple is adorned with intricate reliefs depicting flowing water, undulating waves, and aquatic creatures. The choice of marble, with its pristine white surface, adds to the ethereal and serene ambiance. The craftsman Globeus, a dwarf of some renown, claims that the temple was build 5000 years ago, before the Amber Devastation when the Boar Wasps flew in from the North, but many elven archaeologists have posited that it may be even older still. The temple entrance is framed by pillars resembling cascading waterfalls, their surfaces sculpted to mimic the play of water as it descends gracefully. Carved depictions of aquatic plants and delicate sea life intertwine seamlessly with the columns, creating a harmonious blend of architecture and nature. Upon entering, the interior of the temple continues the watery theme. The floor is adorned with a mosaic that mimics the gentle ripples of a tranquil pond, radiating outwards from a central focal point. The play of light on the mosaic creates a mesmerizing effect, reminiscent of sunlight dancing on the surface of water. In the heart of the temple stands a magnificent altar, its design resembling a crystalline pool. A statue stands in the center, depicting a woman robed in a simple frock with one exposed breast, legs splayed over the basin below. Water appears to cascade from the altar's center, creating an illusion of perpetual motion. In a prominent alcove, there sits a sacred water basin, fed by a continuous stream of clear, cool water. At the basin’s rim, in ancient human runes, the name Paelea is spelled out. Many academics have agreed this must be the name of the female god depicted in the central statue. Worshipers approach the basin to perform rituals, asking the god for aid with their mortal problems. According to the citizens of Gumbacha, the watery iconography represents the ebb and flow of life. The scholars from the Deific Academy, after years of study, have determined that it is a temple of Karma, the ebb and flow of the universe. As a result, when citizens of Gumbacha have been wronged, they come to the temple of Paelea to pray that their wrongdoers gain some form of comeuppance. Paelea, for over five centuries, has been worshipped as the Gumbachan Goddess of revenge. Ironically, unbeknownst to the desperate worshippers, Paelea is not a goddess of revenge, or wasn’t initially when she was worshipped here 3000 years ago. Back then, she was simply the goddess of relief, desperation and pee. ————- Katrina’s eyes opened to a warm moist feeling nestled into her groin. She pulled the hem of her sheets closer to her chin, eyelids drooping as she sighed in discomfort. The young disciple of Paelea hated the way that the goddess of revenge informed her that it was a channeling day, but she knew better than to question the ways of the Almighty Ones. Rising from her straw stuffed mattress, the young woman feels drops of urine running down her thighs and over the backs of her knees. Her simple linen shift that falls just above her ankles is soaked all down the front and a quick glance at her bed indicates it is drenched as well. The damp garment is modest, with long sleeves that reach her wrists and a loose fit for comfort during the night. It is held together by ties or simple buttons, allowing for ease of dressing without need for elaborate fastenings. Katrina's hair, partially covered by a linen coif or simple headscarf, is neatly arranged, hinting at the care taken in personal grooming even in the evening hours. A few loose tendrils escape, framing her face with an air of gentle informality. Her locks are blonde, like her half elven mother, and she pushes one out of her eyes with a damp hand. Her chamber is lit by the warm glow of a flickering beeswax candle, casting dancing shadows on the rough-hewn walls. Her soaked simple wooden bed with straw-stuffed bedding stands in one corner, draped with a plain woolen blanket for warmth in the cool night, and now smelling of pee. “Fiddlesticks and Chestnuts,” Katrina groans, peering at her reflection in her water basin. She needed to hurry and dress if she was going to make it to the temple in time for her visionquest with the goddess. ——— “You are late,” Mother Falomer grumbled, a frown already plastered to her face as Katrina came careening into the temple, panting and dripping sweat in her white acolyte robes. “I’m sorry Mother,” Katrina gasped, struggling to catch her breath. Her rush through the bazaar has been impeded by the arrival of the elephant merchant procession from Alantago and the crowds that had gathered as a result. Katrina had nearly fallen into a pile of manure as she tried to slip past a large orc peddling vases from the Mumbachan desert, but she had made it the rest of the way unscathed. Mother Falomer, the High Priestess of Paelea, shook her head disapprovingly. The elderly woman is a commanding figure draped in flowing ceremonial robes adorned with intricate water-themed symbols. Her attire reflects the essence of the deity she serves, featuring shimmering shades of blue and silver reminiscent of glistening water under moonlight. Her regal headdress, fashioned to resemble crashing waves and cascading water, marks her as a devoted servant of Gumbachan. Adorned with iridescent pearls and seafoam-colored gemstones, the headdress captures the essence of the ocean's depths. Mother Falomer's eyes, a deep and contemplative blue, exude wisdom and a connection to the divine. She bears ceremonial markings on her hands and forehead, symbolic of the goddess's watery domain and the powers she channels. These markings shimmer with a subtle luminescence, echoing the mystical influence of Paelea. In her hands, Mother Falomer cradles a sacred chalice filled with consecrated water, a symbol of the goddess's vengeful yet purifying nature. Her gestures are deliberate and graceful, a testament to her mastery of the sacred rites that invoke Gumbachan's wrath upon those who have wronged. Katrina, clad in her pristine white acolyte robes symbolizing her devotion, approaches Mother Falomer doing her best to convey an air of reverence in the sacred temple. Her eyes reflect a mixture of determination and humility as she extends a respectful bow before the High Priestess. In a soft-spoken tone, Katrina apologizes to Mother Falomer for any interruption, expressing her deep desire to convey a recent communication from Paelea. She requests permission to take the Vision Fruit, a sacred offering that facilitates divine communication, to further commune with the goddess and receive her guidance. Presenting her wet panties from her nighttime wetting forward for inspection, the High Priestess pinched them between two fingers and raised them to her nose for a sniff. “Ah yes, the sacred waters… you have been summoned again child. The Goddess calls for your aid.” Mother Falomer, though seasoned and wise, cannot conceal a flicker of annoyance. The High Priestess, a stalwart guardian of the temple's traditions, may find herself unsettled by the goddess's apparent favoritism toward the young acolyte. With measured restraint, Mother Falomer grants permission, her voice carrying a subtle undertone of skepticism. She emphasizes the importance of humility and obedience in the presence of the divine, subtly alluding to her concern about Paelea's selective communication. As Katrina retrieves the Vision Fruit, Mother Falomer watches with a discerning eye, torn between honoring the goddess's will and grappling with the unsettling notion that Paelea may have chosen a young acolyte as a conduit for her divine messages. The temple's hallowed atmosphere holds the weight of both reverence and an undercurrent of unspoken tension. ——— Katrina quickly rushed back into one of the chambers at the back of the temple. It had no windows, just smooth marble walls and a wooden stool. Shutting the door behind her, Katrina pulled out the Vision Fruit. The fruit was pink and hairy, and the first two times Katrina had consumed it she had nearly puked. This time, she was ready for its foul taste. Biting into the fruit, Katrina grimaced at the flavour that resembled burnt hair. She chewed and swallowed it quickly, then leaned back on the stool and waited. Cultivated in the Gumbachan Gardens and sold directly to the priests of the various temples, Vision Fruits were psychedelic plants that granted the ability to see between the planes of existence to other realms. In other words, it allowed the priests to convey with the gods themselves. Katrina herself was only allowed to consume them when the goddess summoned her. This had only happened twice before, in the form of a dream that inevitable left her waking up in a puddle of warm pee. Before she could reminisce on her first summonings, the world began to swirl before Katrina’s eyes and her head began to pound. The walls fell away around her and she found herself sitting on a rock in a meadow filled with daffodils and butterflies. “Wow,” Katrina gasped. She had never gotten used to the sudden transitions as she traversed realms. Walking towards her through the meadow was a young woman who resembled the statue in the temple. She was skinny, with a lithe body concealed beneath her simple white dress. One of her breasts was exposed, her brown nipple hardened and pointing right at Katrina, and there was a slight fidget to her movements as she strode. Her hair was brown unkempt and her golden eyes glittered in the sunlight. There was a soft yellow glow radiating from her caramel skin, showing her innate divinity and her smile radiated impossible hope. Katrina found herself staring in awe and had to shake herself out of it. Even though this was her third time meeting Paelea, she was no less amazed. Dropping to one knee, she bowed low as the goddess reached her. “Rise child,” Paelea spoke, her voice warm like the notes of Gumbachan folk band. She giggled softly, and it reminded Katrina of a warm rain. Katrina did as she was told and rose so that she was staring into the goddess’ golden eyes. The young acolyte felt as though she could see the entire cosmos in the twin shimmers. “You have served me well the last two times I have called you,” Paelea spoke, beaming at the young woman. “As you will for your whole life.” “Thank you Paelea, o mighty goddess,” Katrina gasped quietly. “Do not thank me little one, for you have much to do still,” Paelea grimaced, as if grossed out but what she was about to ask. “I have need of you to be my instrument again down in Gumbacha. A young woman has prayed to me for vengeance on the spoilt daughter of an Elephant Merchant. This selfish daughter has tarnished the reputation of the young woman through salacious gossip of infidelity. She calls upon I, Paelea, to serve justice.” “I am your faithful servant,” Katrina said, bowing her head. “How may I serve?” “Do you, Katrina of Gumbacha, consent to meting out my vengeance?” “I do.” “Good,” Paelea smiled warmly. “And do you consent to wielding a fraction of my powers as my servant on the mortal plane?” “I do,” Katrina gulped. “Then I grant you the usual powers. You must find this spoilt daughter, use your powers to gauge her bladder’s fullness, fill it further and trick her into having a humiliating accident that will teach her a lesson,” Paelea spoke ominously, her eyes flickering with power and rage. “I accept,” Katrina confidently shouted, as her body surged with power. The meadow began to swirl with wind and flower petals spun up around her in a swirl. “Vengeance shall be as wet as the eyes of those it tarnishes,” Paelea boomed, and then she vanished in a puff of spoke. Katrina collapsed to her knees, electricity coursing through her veins. Raising her head, she realized she was back in the marble room. Her bladder was throbbing for release as it did after every vision with Paelea, and Katrina knew she must find a chamber pot soon. “Vengeance shall be as wet as the eyes of those it tarnishes,” Katrina whispered under her breath. The goddess would be served. Exiting the room, Katrina spied Mother Falomer conversing with another young acolyte, an elven woman named Julia. Above each of their heads, Katrina could see a bar showing the fullness of their bladders. Mother Falomer’s sat at a comfortable 30%, while Julia’s sat at 64%. Katrina smiled to herself as she shifted back and forth on her full bladder. Paelea’s blessing was working once again. ——— You see, dear reader, gods and goddesses are fickle beings, who grow and change with belief. Although thousands of years ago Paelea was the goddess of pee, her modern worshipping as the goddess of vengeance had altered her powers. Now, although unknown to the scholars of the Deific Academy, Paelea serves vengeance through the power of a full bladder. This is a story of that power, and a study of the effects of wet vengeance.
  5. From the album: Jailor Eckman's Hoard

    "She has to pee really badly, but she... is being punished!" PREQUEL?!?! Courtney and Alexis decided to have a little bit too much fun in Courtney's mom's car --- and Courtney pushed Alexis a little bit too far. The resulting scent of urine was not something she could cover up.... Doubling the misfortune, Courtney's mom ended up driving the chancellor of Nitefield State University to the stadium that night! Needless to say, she is VERY displeased! And she came up with a very fitting punishment for her unruly daughter! X] As usual, the nude and text-less versions are available on my Patreon!
  6. From the album: Jailor Eckman's Hoard

    A warm-up I did a little bit ago. XD Now excuse me while I go trash my entire prison so Harlyn has to spend a really long time cleaning it out! X3
  7. 224 downloads

    Support the developers here. The character is NOT a female. This is a Voice / ASMR work. First folder - llustrations Second - Epilogue (1:40) Third - Free talk of the seiyuu (5:17) Fourth - Script Fifth - Main story with or without sfx (20:06)
    Free
  8. From the album: Jailor Eckman's Hoard

    "She really has to pee, but she... is getting a bladder ultrasound!" Poor Ivy --- it's probably hell having a nurse roll an ultrasound scanner over her insanely full bladder!!! As usual, the nude and text-less versions are available on my Patreon!
  9. Mine actually would be the one where Faye X Taylor answers questions about wetting on Skymouse. (Wettingherpanties) Generally this video in particular really interested me for so long and I actually had been looking for it for about 9 years. I just found it myself actually when scrolling through different forums and siterips. Don’t worry I won’t post it but this was really frustrating to find in actuality
  10. Jailor Eckman

    female She Gave Up

    From the album: Jailor Eckman's Hoard

    And this one comes with a story! ~ She had a problem. A big problem. She rocked wildly in her chair with both of her hands buried between her tightly-clenched thighs. Every motion she made caused the plastic seat to squeak against the metal frame, and this had clearly broadcast her predicament to all of her classmates. She'd given up on attempting to listen to the lecture --- instead, her attention was solely fixed upon an increasingly arduous task: not peeing. Were she back at Nitefield, she could have resolved this entire situation with ease --- provided the ladies’ rooms were functional at the time. She'd have just had to leave the class for a moment. Permission wasn't necessary; college-age adults were allowed to come and go as they pleased, though their grades might reflect this depending on the instructor. And, indeed, here was no different. The nearest bathroom, in fact, was right across the hall --- something she was relentlessly reminded of by the occasional flushing of a toilet. Yet she remained seated. At some point, the instructor had started his lesson. She hadn't been paying enough attention to know when. But his start was a good sign. At least time was passing --- albeit very slowly. This reassurance did very little to soothe her agony, though. The guys around her shot glances her way --- sometimes with grins. They were very aware of her problem. And to them, it was a very self-inflicted one. "Quit being so dramatic about this. Quit torturing yourself," she could almost hear them say. Oh how tempting was the thought of finally relenting... But she would continue to hold her water. No matter how badly she needed to relieve herself. She crossed one thigh over the other, though it did nothing to ease her suffering. Nitefield had, in its boundless wisdom, made a very small error. Her major required her to spend two semesters outside of the states as an exchange student. She was happy to do this --- this was an academic excuse to explore some other country, and this aligned precisely with her interest in travel. All was good --- except for that very tiny mistake on the part of her "home" university... Nitefield had sent her to an all male school. And she hadn't even known about it until the faculty here were apologizing profusely upon her arrival. For two whole semesters, she would be surrounded by men. Ok. That would be... interesting. And at least she got a private dorm room and her own bathroom for the trouble. Sure, it might be a bit awkward, but she'd survive. Sweat rolled down her forehead and traced her cheek on its way to her chin. Tears rolled from her eyes. At least that little bit of water would not be crammed into the over-filled pressure-vessel in her lower abdomen. Fuck, did she need to pee. She usually didn't feel this way until the end of the day. But now, she still had two more classes to suffer through before she was free. Tough luck, she supposed... she still wasn't going to use the bathroom. The bathroom. Another flush. It was like cold water pouring down her spine. Hold it. The bathroom was her problem. Seeing that this was an all male school, none of the bathrooms were labeled according to sex. All of the bathrooms were freely available to all of the men --- and one woman, in this odd case... And her classmates had told her as much on numerous occasions: she could use any of the bathrooms, they didn't care... But she did. And the reality was that every single bathroom was functionally a men's room. No girls allowed — except within the one she'd been allowed to use privately next to her dorm. It was her one haven of privacy. And it was there that she could pee. No guy would be there to watch. It got hot between her legs for a moment. She couldn't tell if there had been a leak, and she was too dependent upon her balled-up position to check. Maybe it had been a trick of her mind. Or some weird sensation borne of her insidious desperation. Class was nearly over, and this was very clearly the worst she'd ever needed to pee. She'd gotten so good at holding it over the semester. Not even once had she "caved" and used one of the men's rooms. There were “close calls” — times where she could have sworn that a moment longer would have had her dribbling on the floor. And the guys all around her would mockingly torment her in some misguided attempt to convince her to “suck it up” and just go to the bathroom. Her knuckles whitened as she tugged at the beltline of her shorts. Room. She needed room. Room for her bladder to expand. As the instructor began the conclusion of his lesson, her feet tapped wildly on the floor, and she unbuttoned her shorts. Already. She normally hesitated to pop the button even at the end of the day — and she’d only resorted to it a couple times previously. Now staring down two more unrelenting classes, she was downright terrified that she’d already resorted to this incredibly desperate maneuver. Standing from her seat was indescribably torturous. Seated, she was in agony. Standing, she was in hell. Her bladder greedily devoured what little space she had provided it by undoing her shorts’ button. Yet unsatisfied, it rewarded her with another flash of heat between her legs. And this time, she was certain she had leaked. Not a lot… She would not allow it. But some. It had been entirely involuntary — accompanying some muscular reflex, it just trickled out. Her back remained arched and bent-forward at the hips as she delicately waddled from the classroom. Two more classes. Two long hours at the barest minimum. And she’d already begun to leak. Another flush roared out of the bathroom invitingly. So what if a few guys saw her? She could imagine it… Pushing open the door, ignoring all the dudes, planting herself on one of the toilets, and draining her misery in a thick golden cascade against porcelain. A heavy, hissing jet of urine that could last for over a minute… Ecstasy. Fantasy. She settled gingerly into her seat in the next class. Early as always. Her hands flew to her crotch. At this point, attending class was scarcely more than a formality — there was no question as to where her attention was focused. But no amount of fierceness behind her dire need to urinate would cause her to skip class attendance; she could hold it, after all. Dashing to her far-off toilet and walking in late — all in the name of comfort — was anathema to her very being. Hold it. Hold it. HOLD it. Again, the squeaking of her rocking and the greedy untying and re-tying of her legs into tight knots drew the eyes of all the men around her and — she could have sworn — even an eye-roll from the instructor. So be it. Let them all see how the one girl in the entire college could be the most dedicated person there!... At least, that was the delusion she could use to distract herself from recognizing the obvious “show” she was putting on for her classmates. It didn’t help that one of the hottest ones, in her mind, was seated to her left and getting an eyeful. Any of those social anxieties melted away as a particularly gruesome wave crashed against her strained exit. She held her breath, her face twisted in agony, and she squeezed her crotch hard between rock-solid thighs. A drop of sweat traced the valley of her spine down to the elastic band of her panties as she remained locked in her position. Her eyes blurred behind a veil of fresh tears. A wave with twice the fury of the first followed soon after. Forty-five minutes remained of this class. She clenched everything, from her teeth to muscles she didn’t know the name of. Her bladder commanded her to pee. And in a half-second of exhaustion, her body acquiesced — while her brain exploded with protests. HOLD it. A beam of water that felt like molten, liquid metal roared against the gusset of her panties for the entire duration. She felt it in her fingers — Vibration. Heat. Wetness. The latter she did not feel until after the beam had ceased… She dared not to imagine that this was her limit. No. With another entire class to follow this one, it couldn’t be. There must have been something she had allowed with that last leak; any other explanation would not allow her to persist. She didn’t need to pee. She wanted to pee. And she’d allowed her willpower to fail in the face of the severity of that want. That was all. The desire to deflate the watermelon in her abdomen was simply greater today… There was a very obvious reason for this: unlike all of the days before, she did not relieve herself after lunch. Yes, she might have “tempted fate” with a tall can of tea… But usually, she’d be able to contain it as well as another whole water bottle until the end of the day — albeit with extreme discomfort. And the two bottles of water she had finished during her first two classes usually made for an incredibly satisfying pee. Today, however, she’d been completely denied that satisfying pee. In fact, she had crushed her lunch’s can of tea and tossed it into the trash bag hanging off of the cleaning cart that blocked her bathroom’s door. The custodian inside was scrubbing away at the only toilet she could use. He must have heard the sound, because he had waved to her — entirely unaware of the hell he had consigned her to. Two bottles of water. One tall can of tea. At least two trips to the water fountain. All said and done, it couldn’t have been much over a couple of liters. Packed into one girl’s bladder for several hours, though, it might as well have been an ocean. Twenty-five more minutes of this class. The guys had returned their attention to the instructor as she continued the vicious, seated dance with which she hoped to woo Fate into giving her a more desirable outcome. Fate rejected her advances with another searing leak. Fifteen more minutes. The crotch of her pants was wet. It’d have been visible had the hands jammed between her thighs not covered up the failures of her endurance. Don’t pee, don’t pee, don’t pee, don’t pee… T-ten minutes. Nine. Squirt — for a full second. Eight. Seven. Dribble — for a second and a half. She could feel the dampness spreading under her butt. She was actively crying now — and the guys around her had taken notice. Six… It was… impossible. She hadn’t let any of it out. The piss had simply been forced out by the laws of physics. Her bladder, agonizingly stretched to its absolute maximum capacity — could contain nothing more. It felt as if every minute or two, her kidneys would send another sprinkle of fresh urine down to her tortured bladder — and the new would simply push out the old. Five more minutes. Her resolve was broken; after this class, she’d need to go back to her dorm room. She’d hang her purse behind her back to hopefully cover up the wet patch spreading from her crotch to the seat of her pants. Her hands would obscure the front. Four more minutes. Another half-second vibration of pee hissed heavily against the wet fabric of her panties and shorts. Three… Two… The instructor looked at his watch after answering a question from one of the other students. One… She was the first out of the room. She was sure that she’d left a tiny puddle on her chair, but that humiliation meant nothing in the face of instinct: she needed to pee. She needed to pee right now. In fact, she needed to pee a while ago — now, she was slowly peeing her pants. There was no time to make it back to her bathroom. She had to go here, or she’d be using her pants and the floor. She stepped into the bathroom at the end of the hall and ignored the three guys who were already inside. She’d already tugged her shorts and panties down by the time she was halfway across the room — her target was the last toilet at the end. The “stalls” in this hellscape didn’t have doors. Rather, they were separated by slim, doorless dividers. She threw herself onto that last toilet and her ass hadn’t even reached the seat before a roaring stream of piss exploded from between her legs. She buried her face in her damp hands and sobbed as the hot piss that had tormented her for hours thundered against the porcelain. She peed and peed, but did not even begin to feel the relief for the longest time. The guys had surrounded her, clearly drawn by the sound of the woman-turned-firehose. She did not hear what they said — perhaps it had been some kind of teasing. She simply continued to cry into her hands. Yes, a portion of these tears were dedicated to her all-consuming mortification; her still full-force gush had by now left her observers in silence. But, truthfully, she was crying mostly because of how good it felt.
  11. From the album: Jailor Eckman's (Fluffier) Hoard

    Yes, it's out-of-season by a couple of months, and I started it after Christmas... But are you gonna let that prevent you from enjoying a deer girl who's peeing in front of her hyena mistress?! Another huge thanks to both Nadia and Spotte for this really fun commission!
  12. From the album: Jailor Eckman's Hoard

    Since some people were having issues viewing the other version, I exported a fresh PNG and am re-uploading it. I'm not sure if this will help, but hopefully you guys can now see it!
  13. I think overall a video I got from Faye Taylor called the “Panty Thief Revenge Wetting” was probably the best purchase I have gotten from any other model. It was I think $5.00 but you have to pay for a fee for around $17.00 a month I believe or $15.00 for 3 months but you have to pay for those three months as well which would come to around $45.00 if you add that up. Faye definitely has an interesting range of pee videos that I think most people like for sure. Although she on the DNP I am sure a lot of you would agree that she’s at least top model into Omorashi itself.
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