My people have, for years, been exploited by the humans for our capacity for work. Our people live for centuries longer than that of our oppressors, yet our numbers remain slim, allowing them to hold the reigns. And in our time of strife, we have been stripped of our freedom, ability to express ourselves, our musics taken from us, capacity for creativity slowly removed as we work, day in, and day out, given nay but a short break accompanied by a piece of bread each even.
Our standard issue attire includes locked chastity, so that those forced into labor cannot procreate, and impede upon the status quo with unexpected pregnancies. I care not for baring a child, the idea of having my hips, chest and belly grow to such proportions is, in all honesty, disgusting. Yet, my nethers still crave touch, the feeling of a digit dancing across them, pressing past to relieve some stress, return me to a world of the familiar for even a short while. And with blessing from the Goddess, I had received such a chance.
After working through almost an entire day, the belt lets out a click. Whether through stroke of luck, deliberate ignorance or simply lack of training, the inspector did not manage to pick up on the fact that it was unlocked. After being returned to her 'home', inside of a small cell carved into the stones of a tunnel, and blocked off by a reinforced metal door, I maneuver my legs from the belt. And for the first time in a long time, nobody had prying eyes locked on my crotch to make sure I wasn't wasting time instead of simply using the lavatory. I was free to do as I pleased, and what I pleased to do, was to please.
I nestle against the furs of my bedding, letting out a short humm as I lay my back against the pelt, eyes closing as I adjust my position. Oh how I have craved the day in which I could again do this. My legs edge out further, bare feet gliding against the smoothed stone. A deep breath comes in through my lungs, and with the exhale, I lower my hand down to my crotch, my index finger touches my wanton lips, hips bucking eagerly even at the faintest tease.
A long moan escapes from my lips at that ever-so-delicate touch which would finally grace my nethers. I lean my head back, revelling in the pleasure, before it hits me. I really don't have a whole lot of time before the guard comes around again... What a disappointment, my first time in years and I have to rush it. Better than nothing, though, I suppose.
I allow my index finger to slide to the side of my lips, hips chasing instinctively in pursuit, before a better offer approaches. I curl my ring, and middle finger, and nuzzle them carefully past my craving folds. Another moan escapes, before I bite down on my lip. This can't get too loud, either. Quick, and quiet, surely I can manage. I draw my index and pinky fingers along my lips, hips bucking against the fingers that have pressed into my tunnels. Digits dash daringly through the dark, damp depths, muffled moans crawling their way past my bit lip as I work, and work.
