Willy tossed the flail aside and took hold of her. His hands were warm and he smelled sweet, of cinnamon and cream.

"Come, dove," he said, guiding her to the bed where he bound one arm to each post facing him. He continued to pet her, to coax her back from the edge.

"We have only just begun."

He beat her mercilessly then, pausing often to kiss her deeply while he slipped his fingers into her to multiply her pleasure.