She was seriously regretting not fighting back.Keith stepped back, admiring his handiwork. Amy was squirming, pulling against the ropes, but he knew ...hat they were plenty tight and she wasn’t going anywhere. Her tight little asshole was puckered, her pink pussy lips inviting, her nipples poking out of her breasts, begging for attention. Perfect. He had planned this out in his head, run through it over and over again all day, and somehow, it was even easier than he had planned for. . . I was living in Italy. Dear me, how happy I was on the day when it was taken! And how happy I was when I saw my portrait! ... I used to think myself pretty in those days ... And then it disappeared ... It was stolen from me like other things that had already been stolen from me, at that time..."And, sinking her voice still lower, speaking her name as if she were addressing some other woman, some unhappy friend, she repeated:"Florence ... Florence..."Tears streamed down her cheeks."She is not. More

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