EXTRACT FOR
REPURPOSING LAURA
(Author Unknown)

    Laura tossed and turned, she was so hot in the bed. The covers had been pulled right up to her chin and she was strapped and buckled into the canvas monstrosity. The majority of the heat though seemed to be emanating from her pussy. What was wrong with her? She felt as if she was on fire down there! She squirmed and tried to scratch the ferocious itch between her legs, it was agony! Not painful, but extraordinarily irritating. She bit her lip and bucked her hips to no avail. She twisted and scissored her legs as best she could, but the itch only intensified. Oh my God! How could she go on like this!? 

    She was sweating profusely, she realised. Her bedclothes were sodden, the straight-jacket felt like a swimsuit, wet and clinging. If she could only free some part of her body to scratch the savage itch before it overwhelmed her! She kicked off her bedclothes wildly and lay on her stomach, maybe that would relieve it? She thrust her hips into the thin mattress and achieved a vague sense of contact. She fought and wrestled while above her the infra-red camera silently recorded her struggle.

    The cell door opened with a clang, Laura woke with a start, her heart racing. Where? What...? Legs appeared in her vision. 

    "You seem disturbed, dear? We just came to check on you, you don't mind do you?"

    "M...mind...what?"

    "Is everything okay; is there anything we can do for you?"

    Laura was so hot and sweaty she felt exhausted, her throat was too dry for her to swallow, but primarily and most distressingly her pussy was on fire. She rolled onto her back and looked up beseechingly. Matron Featherstone appeared, cool and collected in her starched uniform. By her side stood an amused-looking Marcus Thompson.

    "What is it dear, a cool glass of water?"

    "Oh yes, yes please."

    The woman looked enquiringly at her.

    "Yes please, Matron. Pleeeasse, Matron!"

    "That's better, child. "

    She turned and left, presumably to go to the kitchen. Marcus Thompson gazed down at Laura and sniggered.

    "Not quite so arrogant now, Miss Barnett?"

    She closed her eyes and tried to ignore his hateful face. He leaned forward slightly and placed his hand on the mattress between her legs. He sniffed loudly.

    "And what is that smell? We could smell you as we came through the door... it's overwhelming. It smells like...like sex, Miss Barnett. It smells like your little pussy is running like a tap. Why would that be, young lady? Does being restrained excite you, hey?"

    He slid his hand nearer so that his arm was virtually touching her inner thighs, and then flicked at the canvas strap running between her thighs. She felt as if a bolt of electricity had been shot through her. She gasped loudly, somewhere above her Thomson giggled.

    "It does excite you doesn't it, slut?"

    He ran a finger down the length of the strap and her legs scissored.

    "Mmmmm," she panted.

    He ran his podgy finger up and down, but just a little more forcefully. Her back arched to meet his hand, to desperately try and get some release.

    "Would you like me to unbuckle this nasty strap, Miss Barnett? It must be awfully uncomfortable for you, it's absolutely soaking wet. Here, smell."

    He removed his hand and ran a finger under her nose, leaving a sweaty, cum-soaked smear like a transparent moustache. If Laura could have fainted away with shame at that minute, she would have done so. Oh my God, her own secretions absolutely stunk of sex! He laughed at her reaction.

    "Last chance, Laura-slut. If you want me to unbuckle you, you'd better ask politely."

    "Oh please...please..."

    "Please what, Laura. You're beginning to try my patience now. I'm tempted just to leave you to your own devices, you know."

    "Please no, please no?"

    "What do you want me to do?"

    His hand had returned back to its position by her pussy.

    "Please, unfasten me...please." 

    She tried to rub herself against his hand, but frustratingly he removed it.

    "I'm not so sure, Laura-slut. What's in it for me?"

    "Please, please. I'm begging you!"

    "I know you're begging me, Miss Barnett. But I repeat, what's in it for me. And before you reply I want your answer to be polite and respectful, so?"

    "Oh, please sir. I'll...I'll suck you. You can fuck me if you want...please, I'm begging you!"

    She almost shouted the last word.

    "You're a slut aren't you, Miss Barnett? Beneath that pretend exterior you're nothing better than a gutter-whore aren't you?"

    "Yes sir, yes sir...a gutter-whore."

    He leaned forward and began to unbuckle the strap. She began to writhe, trying to rub herself against him, what had happened to her, why was she acting like this? She didn't know, or even care at that point. The central itch in her cunt was driving her absolutely crazy! The cool air against her engorged pussy lips felt marvellous, she raised her hips off the bed as high as she could. Sniggering, the man placed the palm of his hand against her Mons and squeezed it gently. The effect was extraordinary; she ground herself against it with as much force as she could muster.

    "Please, sir. Please, sir. Please, sir."She begged desperately, almost incoherently.

    In reply squeezed ran his middle finger against her lips so it half entered her. She squealed and tried to impale herself on it. He slid it in and out, she was so wet and slippery that he felt as if he could have put his entire hand in her, but he contented himself with just two fingers. He worked them in and out while the volume of her evident pleasure increased. He found her engorged clitoris and played with it a little. She was bucking and writhing like a wild thing. He removed his hand and watched in amusement as she humped fresh air for a few seconds.

    "What's going on here? Oh, Miss Barnett, whatever are you doing?"

    Matron Featherstone had returned with her glass of water and stood looking down at the woman. Laura blushed as scarlet as she ever had in her life. It was bad enough being tormented by a bastard like Thompson, but now her degradation was being witnessed by another woman!

    "I'm not sure what to say, young lady. I thought your prostitute clothes were just some sort of statement, but now I realise you really are a whore."