Lesbian slave

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It sure wasn't like any of those jailbreak movies. What a time to be feeling sexy! And all by herself, too, maybe she was abnormal or something. Crouched low, well-hidden but still only hopefully invisible, she recognized the symptoms with a wry grin, a grimace of disbelief. Was it because of the danger? Could one kind of excitement stir up the other? Could the nervous throbbing of her heart have set off that tiny throb between her legs? More like an itch, really, an all too familiar itch. And she didn't dare move, not even to poke a finger down there and scratch it. Awful! This was the crucial moment. Just keep your fingers crossed…

Huddled behind an empty crate, she held her breath as the small delivery truck slowed down to pass the guard stationed at the outer gate. The last guard, the last risk, the last obstacle to freedom; oh shit, if only her cunt would quit acting up! Then, miraculously, there was a noticeable surge forward, a routinely heavy foot on the gas pedal, no doubt and she could grin for real, at last able to afford the luxury of a lovely scratch. They were through the gate. She was free. Talk about luxury! Free! Wasn't that the most luxurious of all luxuries?

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