She relishes the feeling of pleasing him. Of being in his arms after she’s obeyed. Of hearing his “good girl” in her ear.

But she isn’t relieved. Something happens to her muscles when he’s near. It crawls back up and hides somewhere. So any peeing she does in front of him is truncated. It takes the edge off, but not for long. Before long, she knows, she’ll be begging to go again.

And there it is again. The feeling of having to relieve herself. Having to go and not being able to. And asking and asking. And hoping he’ll be merciful. Out of desperation, then, she asks to forgo the newspaper and relieve herself in the bathroom.

Yes, he says. On one condition.

And with that, she sells her soul.

She rushes into the bathroom and sits down on the toilet. He’s barely shut the door when the relief comes. She knows he can hear it, but she doesn’t care. It feels so good to let go.