I sat looking at this new arrival into our home office. It was a swivel chair on wheels, with a padded back in very similar fabric to our other office chairs, but with a plastic bucket seat, almost like a school chair, but adult-sized, a little deeper and with no hole in it.

I knew exactly what this was for, and I have to say I was ridiculously excited. This was a chair to wet myself on; the bucket seat would collect my piss and keep me sitting in it. I texted my husband (who ordered it), and he replied that he thought this would make me much more productive in the office. Yeah, right. It would make me much pissier and hornier, but I doubt more productive.

So, I put on a blouse and my work suit and settled down to start work, knowing full well that before the day is out, I would have wet myself in this new chair. I had a big bottle of drink to ensure my bladder was being steadily loaded during the morning, ready for him to return at about lunchtime.

When he did so, we were both already in character. I think he was pleased, not just with the chair, but he could tell from my movements that my bladder was fairly full, but I assumed I was going to be in for some serious desperation before I actually got to piss in the chair.

After a good amount of moving around working (each little movement putting a strain on my bladder), I settled down in my chair to do some computer work. My bladder was already full, but he kept topping up my glass to encourage me to top up my bladder.

At one point, I realised I had paused typing and was grabbing at my crotch. He had seen and asked me if I was OK. I said I was, but I did need a piss, but he insisted I finish this document first as it was urgent.

And so began the game. I finished something, drinking more liquid as I did it, asked to piss, and he said I needed to do something else first. And something else, and something else. I realised I could have just let go and pissed myself at any point, but where is the fun in that?

So, over the next half hour, I carried on drinking, crotch grabbing, squirming, and occasionally typing. At one point, he told me that going on and on about needing to piss was getting tiresome, and that I needed to do the job I was paid for without the interruptions. That little bit of role play really upped the game, and for the first time, I realised where this was going; he was setting this up delightfully.

After the fifth time I told him I desperately needed to piss, I was grabbing my crotch pretty much permanently. He told me to stop grabbing my crotch and carry on typing, and as I moved my hands away, I felt a small high pressure squirt. I clenched my muscles to try to stop it, but another squirt came and then the floodgates opened.

My face must have shown my predicament, as he realised and started asking if I was pissing. Was his nice professional secretary pissing herself in his office? He couldn’t believe how I had turned into this disgusting filthy bitch who couldn’t do her job without pissing herself. His words were turning me on enormously, but my bladder control had gone completely, and my piss was gushing out, seeping into the back of my skirt, and filling the plastic seat with a pool of my ever cooling piss.

There was no point in slowing the flow now, so I just let my piss seep out. He told me enough with the pissing obsession and to get typing again, so I started typing even as piss was still exiting my pisshole.

The ass area of my skirt was totally saturated and immersed in the piss, and I have to admit it felt rather thrilling.

A few minutes later, he asked if I’d finished pissing, if his lovely innocent professional secretary had finished pissing herself like a drunken tart, and I meekly said I had.

He said good and told me to stand up and bend over the desk. After I did so, I heard the camera taking pictures of my piss soaked skirt pulling tight over my ass.

Then he unzipped the two zips and lifted up the flap in my skirt to reveal my wet ass, moaning about his fingers being covered in piss. Then I felt his leather belt, doubled over to form a loop, impact across both my ass cheeks. It was clearly a hard strike, intensified by the wetness of my ass.

Another strike, then another, and the hard strikes were raining down at pace. After about a dozen, he stopped and zipped up my skirt, saying hopefully that would help me to think less about pissing and more about work. No chance, especially as the back of my skirt was still dripping and pulling taught over my burning ass, and that was before I sat back in the pool of piss and felt it flow back around my cheeks. It was soothing on my freshly tanned ass (and this is something I am not used to, as my ass usually has no soothing measures until well after the spanking session is completed).

As he told me what to do next, he put another glass of water in front of me as well. I sipped the water and tried to work, aware of the wetness around my ass, until about 20 minutes later, when he repeated the dozen spanks on my wet bare ass with his doubled up belt, and he repeated it every 20 minutes for a couple of hours, until I was fidgeting in my seat again. He saw me and told me I’d better not be about to piss again. I smiled sweetly at him, but my body movements must have given me away, as he knew my piss was flowing, topping up the puddle in the chair.

He couldn’t believe I was pissing myself again! He told me I had to learn pissing was not acceptable for a quality secretary, so once I had finished, he stripped my skirt and blouse off me, putting them into the piss on my chair, bent me over the desk, and began spanking me with his folded over belt again. I lost count of the number of strokes, but all the time, he was talking about me having to learn pissing was not acceptable. After he’d done, and my ass really was rather raw and painful, he told me to sit on top of my clothes back in the piss and stay there until my work was done, as he’d had enough of someone so disgusting.

I was there for about 30 minutes with the piss soothing my ass, sitting, and pushing my clothes into pool of piss. As he left the office, he was saying how he’d prefer his secretary to not piss herself every time she comes into the office. And yet I knew that was exactly what he had planned, and I loved it.