Rolling off, I knew she needed to get her breath. I walked over to her suitcase looking for something to fuck her with. I found her hairbrush. It had ... long handle and was covered with a ridged rubber piece. I carried it to the bed. She lay still with her legs spread breathing hard. Her pussy was gapped open. Opening her little lips further I slipped the handle into her pussy, her eyes opened as she looked between her legs to see what she was being fucked with. Her head went back as I pushed. Even now, drifting in on the breeze, Constance could hear the distant strains of music and singing from the taverns by the wharf, from the field to the east of town where a festival was going on. In years past, she might have gone to the festival. Her father might have escorted her, or she and Rob and Enrique could have gone together. Dancing, laughing, eating too many spicy delicacies, coming home late and pleasantly weary. Not so this year … this summer. She remained a veritable prisoner in. More

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