She struck her knees against the sawhorse, her tits wagging back and forth while she worked her fingers against the ropes binding her wrists. She could see his feet moving around her. He had pulled his finger from her shitter and was stalking her slowly now, his boots scraping maddeningly over the concrete floor.

Cindy held her breath, afraid to make a move, terrified to make a sound. She quivered in her bonds, the rough beam of the sawhorse pushing painfully into her belly. For a moment she thought she would piss on her thighs, disgrace herself in front of this man because the terror was making her lose control of her bladder.

Somehow Cindy managed to keep control of herself.

He stopped in front of her now, his legs spread widely apart.

Cindy grew nervous. She was breathing hard, her chest tightening while her toes curled against the leg of the sawhorse. She felt something striking her hair. For an instant she thought he was tugging at the strands, about to yank them again and pull some from her scalp. Then there was a spattering sound followed by the smell of something awful. God, he was pissing on her!

Cindy gagged, the bile rising like stinging lava in her throat while her nostrils burned. She strained her arms and legs against the ropes, wailing, jerking the sawhorse back at least ten inches. Nothing could stop the piss from spattering against the back of her head.

Cindy moaned, turning her head to one side, terrified to open her mouth. She felt the steady pissing pressure just above her ears now. Her hair was getting slick with it, wet and plastered to her skull as the stream of yellow piss washed over her hair, dribbling down her cheeks and chin, finally spattering to the floor.

Struggling against the binding ropes, Cindy gagged and coughed, unsure if she could keep from vomiting while the big janitor finished pissing on her. The stream lessened, spattering against the back of her neck, finally dying away to a few drops dripping onto her back.