The classes had been sitting on the floor for a little over three hours. They had been told by the terrorists that they couldn't leave to go to the bathroom, so the floor was pretty wet with the urine of several different people. Ashley shifted around a bit. She felt a large weight at the end of her colon and she didn't want to mess her pants. What would people think of her? She was the most popular girl in school. The man would have to sympathize.
It was no wonder she was the most popular girl. She was pretty rich and threw a couple of huge parties every year. That got made her pretty famous around the school, but mainly it was because she was incredibly beautiful. She had blond hair to her shoulders, incredible green eyes, flawless skin and a body that just wouldn't quit. She had been blessed with firm breasts and a perfectly rounded behind. She would often flaunt this body in skimpy designer her clothes that girls envied. Today she was wearing a blue beret with a blue bellybutton T-shirt and a matching plaid skirt. She wore black army boots to complete the look. In a word she was perfect- one of those girls that almost always has a boyfriend. One could go on and on, but it would get monotonous after a while.
So she couldn't mess herself. Girls like her didn't go to the bathroom and they definitely never stunk. If she only had to pee, she might be forgiven because so many other people had, but everyone else could hold their bowels. If someone noticed she was unloading in her panties, she'd be humiliated.
"Um... Mister," she tried. One of the terrorists turned around. He clutched his gun tightly. She looked around and whispered, "I kinda got to go to the bathroom." The terrorist looked at the wet floor. Everyone was sitting so closely together it was hard to tell who had peed, but it was apparent that at least 10 people had contributed to the puddle on the floor. She saw his "what's-your-point" glance. "Number 2," she added. Being a foreigner, he again looked at the wet floor. "They went Number 1."
"Sorry, no one leaves," he said and walked over to the doorway to talk to someone. Ashley frowned, the weight in her lower intestine really bothering her. Determined to keep her panties free and dignity intact, she looked around for a concealed spot to dump her load. Her eyes rested on the desk in front of the class. She knew she had no chance of getting to a bathroom, but she could go behind the teacher's desk and no one would see her.
"No, people would know what I was doing," she thought. "And everyone would see it as they left. But the closet..." Her captivator's view was still obscured by the partially open door. She walked, hunched over, to the edge of the group of students.
"Don't get up, he'll kill you," a boy warned. She shushed him. She looked at the door again. The terrorist could be seen, but he had his back to her. She quickly opened a closet door.
"Damn!" she thought. "Shelves!" She couldn't fit in that closet and panicked as time was running out. She opened the closet next to the one with shelves and the hinges creaked. The man turned around, but she was determined to get in, close the door, and start going before he stopped her. She knew he wouldn't stop her while she was taking a dump.
"What the hell?!" said the terrorist. "Get out of there!" She tried to close the door, but it was stuck. The terrorist was unfamiliar with the room and was not about to leave her alone in the closet where she could grab a weapon of some sort. He was, in fact, pissed that she had disobeyed. "I said not to get up!"
"Yeah, but I have to go! Look, I'll just..." she said as she started to pull on the door again. The terrorist had walked over to her in this time and flung open the door.
"Didn't I say..." he started as he brought his hand back to slap her. She shielded herself with her hands, and he stopped himself and smiled. "Come on out." She somewhat smiled as she saw him smiling. She came out. He then frowned. "Get on the table." He pointed at the teacher's desk.