Sleep did not come easily for me. Staring into the dark room I tried to blank my mind, but only opened it to the day’s grisly events. I tried to occupy it with pleasant thoughts; funny moments with my flatmate, my favourite music, the smell of a new car. Ere I knew it my silly subconscious had made sinister associations with the Maserati I’d borrowed and the odour of freshly worn leather tack. Eighty-six more days of this, and I would be in need of some serious therapy – if I would be able to lie on a couch, that was.
When I finally found my way into the REM-realm I had the weirdest dream: the sawhorse stood inside our barrack, with me over it. I wasn’t bound, though. Behind me the lady doc was explaining how oxygen would help with the healing. The askew dream logic made oxygen equivalent to that antiseptic cool-stuff gel. When she hunched behind me to apply it she had switched into Ten, yet was still wearing the lab coat. Her touch felt nice, then stingy, then I woke up because I had rolled over on my back in my sleep. I shifted into a more comfortable position, but my bum kept hurting. And I had another issue: I was horny as hell.
I’m not routine-orgasmic. Getting off is not a ritual to me, nor do I have a rhythm for it. I can be fine for a fortnight, but when it hits me I’m worse than a cat on heat. I didn’t know what had triggered my carnal craving this time, but it was safe to say it hadn’t been my dreaming of Ten (let alone of the lady doc). The last time I had test-driven myself had been four nights ago – a feeble attempt to calm myself to sleep before I would be transferred to a mysterious correctional facility. Tonight the endorphin shot would provide some sorely needed pain relief.
I haven’t got any fancy technique to reward myself (and, as I already sense the question arise, no preferred battery-powered toy, too). So I just allowed my hand to find my special place, where it tended to its naughty task at once. Soon the familiar light-headedness was building up, that comfortable glow which spreads out from the abdomen before the strain of actually working towards a climax begins. I caressed a nip with my other hand, adding some light tweaking now and then. I never liked my nipples being roughly played with, let alone bitten. My mind was ready to drift away, and I flipped through scenes and mental pictures trying to decide which of them were worthy my efforts. I don’t want to dwell on my masturbation fantasies, so I only express my deep astonishment at how blokes are able to toss off to practically anything they see on the internet. I need something with story.
I settled for a definitely non-kinky sci-fi scenario (fearless space pilotess nude in hibernation pod) and started phase two. My rubbing and fingering became serious, and before long I was noticeably panting. My crisis approached – and I froze. I was not alone! Somebody else was awake, moving somewhere in the dark. From under half-closed eyelids I scanned the room whilst holding my breath. There he was, coming up the aisle towards me. He was walking quietly, yet not sneaking as such. Patrolling. He was one of the guards! The pre-orgasmic tingling in my lower regions was brutally replaced by a sinking feeling. That’s how they had nicked 1105! I remained petrified, my right hand still buried between my legs. Not able to hold my breath any longer, I forced myself to breathe in flat, controlled drags. To me they were deafening. Already I saw myself being hauled to the whipping post for a sound flogging.
The guard passed the foot of my bunk and strode out of my sight. For what seemed to be an eternity he stayed in that blind spot. Surely he was eyeing my suspiciously positioned form, just waiting for me to move. My body stiffened to the point of cramping up. Yet I nearly jumped as I heard him switch on his torch. The guard was clearly investigating something, but barely any light reached the sleeping area. Instead he was illuminating the washroom, maybe checking whether Sixteen was powdering her nose.
Assured that nobody was hiding behind the taps the guard strolled back down the aisle, thoughtfully snuffing his light again lest any of us fillies would be torn from our precious slumber.
That had been close! I stayed in my cramped-up pose for another minute before I even dared recover my by now drenched fingers. I wiped them off on my already ruined panties. Needless to say I refrained from further experimenting on myself for the night.