It was once a chestplate— no more than a joke in front of steel. Caved in by blunt weapons, scratched by arrows, and unbound by swords penetrating the gaps, it somehow kept you alive. You soundlessly discard whatever is left of it with a tug and remain close to the soil, hidden in thick grass. Keeping your head down, you use your sword's broken blade to learn of any movements.There are wounds on your chest, where swords met flesh, and your left arm is broken. You can hear your own heart wildly pumping blood as you hold back your rushed breath. Pain is the only thing that is missing.As far as you can see, you're the only one left. Playing dead in the blood-soaked soil managed to fool your attackers, but it won't be long before you're spotted in the open field. You either die by martial law for deserting or by fighting in a hopeless war, and you definitely can't run as fast with a useless chunk of iron weighing you down."Whoever holds a mace, I'll break your fucking arms!" a man. Our body's forced together with every jolt of the moving train. My body shudders every time her body presses into mine. The short skirt I have on is nearly up to my waist. I don't have panties on, and my pussy is beyond wet. I'm feeling naughty as I slowly and secretly position my body closer to her, so that my back is pressing against her front, and with perfect timing the trains stops and an unbelievable amount of people pile onto the train shoving us closer together. Her hand is accidentally forced between my slightly spread legs. She can feel the wetness as I moan from the feel of her long fingers finally against me. She shudders and raises one hand to grasp the pole just above my head, she presses her body more against me as she slides her finger into my dripping hole. "Oh fuck," I whisper, honestly there's no point seeing as how the train sounds like a tornado. Her hand slides in and out slowly, teasingly. Tingles spread through out my body and my breathing is jagged. Fuck, it.
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