Marriage Sandra

 

Some say that marriage is a form of deprivation of liberty. It was no different for Sandra. Instead of putting the gold ring on her finger, they could have put the iron collar of a slave on her. She kept looking at the gold that had been placed around her delicate ring finger. From the outside in, a moist glow that seemed close to tears spread through her blue eyes. But Sandra didn't cry. She remained steadfast until, yes until...

"...until death do you part," were the priest's words and the pretty blonde girl thought she saw a devilish smile on the faces of the men present at that moment. To the invited plantation owners, she was just a new broodmare in the stable. A product that was purchased by her father, the merchant from Kingston, and now branded with the brand of marriage. Sandra was now no longer human, but the property of her husband Ben Northwik. The cruel son of Edward Northwik, the master of the sugar cane plantation.

The young beauty sat at the table as scared as a shy deer. The wedding table was laden with plenty of fresh meat and sweet fruits. The men reached out and took what they wanted, while Sandra was displayed like the prey of a robbery. A slight nausea weakened her, and when the scent of tobacco or the smell of rotten teeth became too nauseous in her nostrils, she closed her eyes and dreamed away.

In her daydreams she rebelled against the men and her fate. She was safe and secure in them. Her dreams were now the only place where she was free. There she could dream of her secret lover, the pirate, with whom she had experienced a few days of happiness before her father discovered her and sold her to the Northwik plantation for her desire for freedom. Now she had to oblige a family of slave owners who treated women and black slaves like toy dolls from an angry child. They enjoyed being able to express all their desires on this human asset with impunity.

One of these assets was now sitting next to Sandra. Alice, the master's wife, despite her two now grown children, was still a charming beauty who was cared for by slave girls and expensive cosmetics from Europe. Alice didn't say a word either; she sat coolly and reservedly at the table with the other crude slave owners and their equally primitive wives.

As the tyrant's wife, she had learned at a young age that it was her fate to submit. She didn't argue, but she didn't show any fear either. She did what was expected without going down on her knees. For this reason, and in order not to diminish her value, Edward had stopped beating her or demanding her marital duties in recent years. Instead, the mature landowner had fun with the plentiful slaves and killed quite a few in the process. Some mixed-race children on the sugar cane plantation also testified to his active virility.

Sandra's heart beat faster whenever Edward's longing gaze slid over her delicate white dress, which was decorated in the colors of virginity. A mockery, because everyone present knew that Ben had been trying to father a child with her since she arrived on the plantation. Sandra didn't know whether Ben would do the same to her once she had given him and her father the legitimate heirs they wanted. The thought was hellish torture for her.

The banquet remained a gauntlet for them. Her father didn't come to her wedding. Just a distant relative. Some uncle who owned a plantation himself had come to the Northwik plantation that day. Sandra didn't even know most of the other guests by sight. They were all slave owners. Some had brought their wives with them, but none of them seemed to be blessed with beauty in the girl's eyes. On the contrary. The men seemed to be married exclusively to evil old hags. Who distributed words filled with hate, envy and resentment in conversations as if there was a price for it.

Sandra wondered if the others didn't have wives, or if they just didn't take them with them if they still had beauty like Edward's wife Alice. Perhaps in this slave-owning world you had to become a monster yourself to avoid being swallowed up by the darkness. Nora, her new sister-in-law, who was about the same age, seemed to be on exactly that path.

Two days ago she had secretly watched Ben's sister brutally punishing Naomi, a dark-skinned slave, with a cane. She had put a sponge in Naomi's mouth to muffle her screams while the girl had to bend over a table in the kitchen in front of the plantation owner's daughter. Through a crack in the door Sandra had seen how mercilessly she had hit her bare, dark brown bottom. Tears flowed from the exotic beauty's large, dark eyes as she clung to the table in desperate obedience.

Sandra didn't know why Nora had punished the slave with the cane, but she felt for Naomi, who was also often and brutally abused by Ben, her newlywed husband. Was this proof that cruelty was hereditary? She didn't know, because unlike Edward and his children, Alice was a true angel. Her mother-in-law was the only one who occasionally spoke up for the violated slaves or for her daughter-in-law. This was the reason why Sandra kept looking to her during the wedding party for help and found something like deep compassion in the woman's eyes, while all she experienced around her was cruelty and perversion.

Alice's apparent strength also gave Sandra hope. Maybe it really was possible to live among these beasts without breaking like the slave who, with her head bowed and fearful, handed out fresh wine to the men who were groping her with eyes and hands. In that moment of courage, she looked into her husband's eyes for the first time since their wedding. It was only a moment, but she immediately realized that she had made a mistake. She couldn't be afraid. Fear excited him far more than indifferent strength. Perhaps this was the lesson she had received from her mother-in-law that evening. When she was alone in the room with Ben later that evening, she would behave exactly as Alice showed her here, among all these monsters. She closed her eyes and prayed for strength. She silently begged the powers that be to hear her and help her that night. The night she had been so afraid of for the last few weeks.

***

“You’re a man now,” his Uncle Will had told him. It wasn't his biological uncle, but old Will also owned a thriving slave plantation, and so his father and Will had been companions in fate for many years. Will had taken him aside at the end of the feast and talked to the "boy," as he always called Ben. "Tonight will show what kind of man you are. Your bride is a gift of fate. Any man can break her, but if you can tame her on your wedding night, she will be worth her weight in gold."

Ben's eyes kept roaming over Sandra's body, which was wrapped in a white wedding dress. She was his property. The only thing he truly owned in this world. The plantation and its slaves belonged to his father. Nothing he used every day was truly his. Nothing, except this woman, who from today before the law and before God belonged to him alone.

Ben Northwik prowled around the marriage bed like a lurking tiger. He looked down at his wife, sitting on the edge of the bed in her wedding dress, looking stubbornly straight. Maybe that was exactly what angered him the most at that moment. She suddenly didn't seem to be afraid of him anymore. She didn't seem to love him as a wife should. Young Ben actually expected. That she would thaw immediately as his wife. Wasn't it the greatest thing for a woman to be married?

"We are married now woman, be happy and joyful. Your father could have married you off to one of the old farts you saw today. Many of them are already widowers. Instead you got a young, strong man. You really should to be thankful."

Sandra remained silent, as she often did. What could she say to her husband that wouldn't arouse his anger? He owned her. He was allowed to do whatever he wanted with her. But somehow that wasn't enough for him at that moment. It slowly dawned on Ben that he didn't just want a beautiful, blonde slave as a wife, no, he wanted a willing slave. She should submit to him with passion and not just sit there like a board.

The new husband thought feverishly what he should do with her on her wedding night. He had humiliated Sandra often enough in the last few weeks. He had sex with slave girls in their presence and lived out his brutal desires on them, while his current wife had to watch this naked. He had given the women the whip and made it clear to Sandra that he would definitely treat her the same way if she didn't submit to him. Still, she was not docile.

The young, tall man, who had spent his entire life on his father's slave plantation, thought about everything he had learned. Suddenly he had the idea. He thought about how his father had disciplined his sister. She had ridden without permission and the family was seriously worried about the girl. When she came home, father didn't scold her publicly. He just grabbed her and went to the room with her. Ben followed the two out of his curiosity.

His father had pulled the dirty dress over her hips and she had to hold on to the dressing table in front of him. Then he didn't take the whip, no, he took a thin cane. Not even as thick as a little finger. He spoke to her quietly, without anger, and even today a shiver ran down Ben's spine when he thought of his sister's tender, exposed bottom. Then it happened. Father took out the cane and began to spank his daughter's bottom with the cane. Nora screamed and cried, but she, the little rebel of the family, bravely held on to the table. Ben's father demanded that his daughter count every single blow, and she did so through tears that, even now, long afterward, both excited and disturbed Ben. That night, young Northwik had his first outburst under the covers, while his sister lay sobbing on her stomach not far away, her snow-white bottom covered in red welts. After that, Nora never openly rebelled again. No, on the contrary, it was a special experience for Nora too. One that had changed her.

The plan matured in the young husband. He looked down at his young wife in the light of the oil lamp. Beautiful and fragile. Threatening with the whip was certainly a good thing, but giving her the rod might make her the woman he wanted deep down. Obedient and willing, fiery and submissive. Contradictions that rarely came together, but were therefore all the more important in a world full of slaves.

Will's words flashed through his mind again. Yes, he wanted to tame her, just as his father had tamed his sister.

***

Ben left the room and Sandra's face brightened at the same moment. It was their wedding night, and he hadn't whipped her like a cheap slave, nor had he attacked her, as he so often did, and taken possession of her petite body with his virility. Maybe it really helped to just act callous and cold, like her mother-in-law did. Maybe she had found the way to survive in this hell.

But the hope only lasted for a short time and Sandra clawed her fingers into the bed sheet on which she was sitting; when Ben walked in the door. A sudden change had occurred. It wasn't anything tangible, but something flickered in his eyes that Sandra hadn't seen in him before. Her gaze roamed over his body. It was as if she was seeing him as a man for the first time and no longer as a spoiled son.

His white shirt was open and in the light of the lamp she could see beads of sweat on his muscular chest. You could clearly see the bulge of an erection on his crotch. The girl swallowed. Her hair, which had been fixed by the slaves under Alice's supervision that morning, was now loosening slightly and one of her blonde strands fell over her face. Repressed fears crept through her body and she felt a strange tingling sensation in her stomach.

"Get up, woman!" Ben ordered in a stern voice. In his hand he held a bamboo stick about four feet long, which he flicked through the air as if to emphasize his command. His tone of voice, as well as the loud sound of the cane, made her flinch again. She obeyed without thinking clearly. Her attempt to survive the ordeal of her wedding night with indifference suddenly seemed doomed to failure.

Ben now looked at his young wife in the white wedding dress that her father had made for her and had delivered by a messenger. She looked good in it. Packaged like a valuable gift. Her emerging fear, which he had missed for the last few hours, spurred the plantation owner's son to carry on.

"Stand at the dressing table." This was also new. The dressing table and a few other boxes were part of Sandra's trousseau. The items were first moved into this room until the slaves, under the leadership of a master craftsman from Kingston, completed the new house for the newlyweds.

A large oval mirror was placed in the center and reflected the image of the young bride. Sandra now had to look herself in the eyes as she followed her husband's orders. She had to look at the girl who once had such big dreams. Every shred of courage seemed to be broken at that moment as she saw her long blonde hair dangling loosely over her white lace-covered shoulders. This was not the girl who got involved with a pirate and had great adventures. This was a sold bride.

"Spread your legs and lift your dress."

Sandra doesn't react. She heard his words, but somehow she couldn't give in to his desire. She didn't know whether lack of understanding or ignorance was the reason for this, and Ben didn't care. He had clear ideas about how this should work and his wife had to stick to them. Like a horse with a riding crop, he struck his wife on the back of the hand with the bamboo.

A burning pain went through her and Sandra screamed. The back of her hand burned like fire and a red line appeared on it. She regarded him hesitantly, her gaze anxiously fixed on her new husband. In his eyes she only saw the insane anger that she also recognized from Ben's father. It was exactly the same as when he had beaten the slave half to death with the whip in front of her in the pillory. She had recovered, but Sandra knew that the scars had also marked her soul.

"Do you want to defy your husband?" Ben asked in his stern tone.

"No," Sandra breathed resignedly.

"Spread your legs a step apart, lean forward towards the table and stick your ass towards me. Then reach back and lift your dress so I can see it too."

Now Sandra obeyed. Her movements were almost mechanical, like a puppet completely submissive to the will of its puppeteer. He hadn't really hit her, not yet. The burning sensation on the back of her hand was a suppression.

In the mirror she watched her husband closely as he stood behind her. The bamboo stick in his hand. She no longer knew whether it was really the fear of the pain that made her obey. Unlike the other days when he whipped a slave in her presence, in this moment she felt almost intimately close to the man standing behind her with the cane. It was a change in emotions that she wouldn't have thought possible just a few minutes ago. Now that it was just him and her in the room, she suddenly obeyed her husband as she realized what he was asking of her.

She had often had to appear naked in front of him and so she felt less and less shy about taking off her dress for him. It was better if she did it than for him to rip the fine fabric from her body. Just like the black slaves, Sandra now showed her bottom, which, however, was much more delicate than the expansive pelvis of the dark-skinned beauties.

Ben liked what he saw. Now that he and she were alone, the young man turned his focus for the first time to the woman he had married. The thought that she had actually come to the plantation as a sort of broodmare to bear her father a male heir for his business was haunting at that moment. Sandra's attractive charms made his libido swell until it hurt. He would have loved to tear off his clothes right now and attack her like he had in the past few weeks.

But today it was different. Tonight was special. It was their wedding night. Maybe this was the reason why Ben was now able to curb his desire a little. Instead of using his hand, he stretched the cane like a finger towards his wife and slid the tip of the finger-thick bamboo stick through her exposed butt crack. He traced the contours of her velvety skin and slid up to the labia that were clearly visible between her thighs and shimmered in the lamplight at that moment.

A shiver ran through her body and for a moment Sandra thought her heart would stop. She bit her lip and balled her hands into fists. Everything was different at that moment than expected. Instead of pain, she felt a reluctant excitement that didn't stop at her own libido.

When Ben slid the cane between her pussy lips, she unconsciously pushed herself against him. Her body wanted to increase the feeling, even though her mind saw it completely differently. Her husband smiled as he saw his wife's conflicted reaction. The girl probably hated and despised him as much as she despised her father and his. She was stubborn and in his eyes a bit frigid, but now in this moment she seemed different.

"Do you like that?" Ben asked, his voice still stern. He was not easily softened by life on the slave plantation.

Sandra struggled with herself. She knew that whatever answer she gave would be wrong. The girl undoubtedly felt pleasure. Similar, but different, to the one she once met with John, her first lover. The only man who had ever had sex with her other than Ben. Still, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of this moment. She didn't want him to enjoy his triumph over her because she would have wanted to deny him so much.

So the young wife remained silent, stoking the anger in her husband's eyes again. A dangerous undertaking. Ben didn't hesitate and gave the disobedient a light blow with the cane on her private parts. The girl made a hissing sound as she took in the pain. It hurt and yet there was still this uptight desire.

"Speak!" she said harshly at Ben. The young man quickly became impatient and wanted success. Her initial obedience had probably gone a little to his head.

"I don't know, maybe," breathed the blonde girl, her hair now dangling loosely left and right as her gaze was directed straight ahead at her reflection. The young woman in the mirror looked as desperate as Sandra felt. If she gave the wrong answer she was punished, if she didn't give an answer she was punished. So the “maybe” came very close to the truth.

The boy in the mirror smiled, pleased but not satisfied. He wanted more that night, he wanted everything from her. So continued: "I'm going to give you 40 strokes on your bare ass now, woman. That'll get rid of your hesitation. Bend over and stretch your ass nicely towards me. I expect you to count every stroke. If "When I take a break or finish, you will thank me for the kindness and love I give you! Disobedience will increase the number of spanks, so if you like your little bubble butt, you better obey."

Sandra's eyes widened in panic. She had no doubt that he would do what he had just said. She remembered his words as he whipped a slave in front of her. "I'll get you used to the whip once we're married," were his words. When she thought of how he had whipped a slave girl almost to death, she was even more glad that he now wanted to carry out his threat with the cane and only on her bottom. Still, she feared pain more than anything.

She thought about the burning sensation on the back of her hand as she leaned forward as requested and offered him her bottom so that he could give it a particularly good spanking. Her hands held on to the dressing table. She didn't know what to expect and so she prepared herself for the worst she knew from Ben. Things turned out differently.

Mildly disposed by their superficial docility. Ben took the cane firmly in his hand. He let the rod flick through the air several times, making his wife jump, then he pulled through and hit it right across the girl's bottom.

Sandra screamed in surprise. When she heard the bang and a sharp pain shot through her. She had never been hit on the bottom with a rod before, so the feeling was foreign.

“Haven’t you forgotten something else?” she admonished Ben. With his words, she received a slightly harder blow on her bare bottom. This time she screamed a little louder. "So again from the beginning!" He sounded a little annoyed now, even if he was internally happy for her mistake. She should know where it was going.

It took a few moments for her mind to gather itself. Counting, yes, she had forgotten to count. “One!” came from her lips.

"That's good. Now go on!"

He pulled out again and let the rod hit her thighs at the level of her pussy lips. Red welts immediately appeared on them, while Sandra obediently shouted "Two!" shouted.

Ben liked her pitiful tone. The girl had enough sense to count. He had tried to play this game with a slave before, but most of the slaves had to give up at ten. Nobody had taught them the numbers, which they didn't need in their work on the sugar cane plantation anyway.

He gave Sandra time between each blow. Time for the girl to writhe in pain. Time when she could fear the next blow. After twenty strokes he stopped and grabbed her bottom, which was marked by numerous reddish lines, with the flat of his hand. The sweet girl's butt was very warm. He stroked it and suddenly noticed how she moved with his movements. No matter what she said, she didn't seem uncomfortable. His index finger grazed her ford, almost opening a waterfall of lustful nectar.

"Haven't you forgotten something, woman?" he asked in a stern voice as he pressed his finger lightly into the girl's tight, wet cave and her swollen labia wrapped around it.

She hadn't forgotten anything. Sandra pressed her lips together tightly as he entered her. She had had no compunction about screaming her pain so loudly that everyone in the mansion could hear her. Her inhibitions were more about admitting her pleasure when Ben's hand began stroking her rather than hitting her. Her sensitive, reddened skin was sore, but her libido burned brightly. The pain was combined with a strange feeling of excitement. When her husband stuck his finger into her pleasure crack, Sandra could hardly control herself. Waves of ecstasy made her treacherous body buck, and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to immediately moan loudly and openly admit her pleasure to her husband.

"Come on! Talk!" Ben hissed and withdrew his finger from her cave, which suddenly felt so deserted.

A moment passed in which silence dominated the room, but then, a loud slap echoed through the room as Ben's flat hand met her already sore bottom. Sandra gasped loudly. Then came the second blow, harder, more burning, leaving his handprint on her tender flesh. A third and fourth blow followed and only on the fifth did Sandra stammer, sobbing: "Thank you, my husband!"

"Well, why not like that!" Ben growled and then added: "Now you get five more strokes with the palm of your hand as a small punishment for your hesitation, woman! Tell me with every stroke that you are your husband love, and I'll leave it at that."

Sandra swallowed hard. His words weighed heavily in her throat. Fear that had been buried beneath pain and pleasure resurfaced. She didn't know how to react to that. She didn't know. Whatever she wanted to say, but it wasn't her place to take the initiative.

Ben reached out and slapped his wife's bottom with the palm of his hand. This time tears immediately came to her eyes. His blow had exceeded the limit of pain that Sandra had previously known. Her bottom burned as if she'd been hit by a jellyfish's tentacles. He had deliberately made the blow so strong because Sandra should know the consequences of violating it.

"I love you, my husband!" she finally stuttered in a tearful voice.

"That's good!"

The next blow hit her bright red bottom. This time it was a little weaker, so that the painful memory of the first blow masked the pain of the second blow.

“I love you, my husband!” came out of her lips faster this time.

As a reward, the next strokes became weaker and weaker and after the last stroke he stroked her bottom again, as he had done at the beginning. The girl was still sobbing, but at that moment she was truly grateful that Ben was massaging her glowing bottom. A moan escaped her lips. She no longer had the strength to maintain her pride. She was no longer dreaming, but was just in this moment, the moment in which Ben was caressing her and easing her pain while at the same time heating up her pleasure again.

"I love you, my husband," Sandra whispered one last time. This time she did it almost mechanically. Your body now reacts to sensations that were contradictory to itself. She didn't want to and yet she wanted to. She hated him and yet couldn't help but enjoy these moments.

His hand slid through her butt crack, which was largely spared from all the blows. He felt her starlet and then slid lower to her vulva, which was dripping with moisture. He felt her desire, which no longer knew any restraints. His fingers opened the willing crack. He stroked her pleasure bud and Sandra's legs went weak as he rubbed her. Loud, quiet sounds of pleasure escaped her lips, as did moans of sheer pleasure. His hand caressed and rubbed her intimate center. Sandra now pushed her ass towards him without shame because she was no longer able to think. Her delicate body was flooded with feelings that could no longer be described in terms such as pleasure and pain. Humiliation and passion were now just as much a part of it for the young woman as a desire that wanted to be satisfied. A hunger that was awakened for the first time that night.

The gentle pain almost drove her mind crazy. When he finally removed his hand, her eyes opened wide. She looked in the mirror and saw a strange woman. The face marked by tears and lust was beautiful and strange at the same time. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know who she was. It was only when he raised his voice that part of her reason returned.

“We were at 20, right?”

"Yes, my husband!" she confirmed automatically.

"Let's move on?"

"Yes," was all she could manage.

The next twenty strokes were a rollercoaster of desire and self-denial. She still screamed when the cane hit her inflamed bottom, putting more red welts on her once snow-white bottom. But the tone was now different. A gasping moan now followed each of these screams, one that was no longer just one of pain. She obediently counted each blow as the torture slowly changed in her eyes.

She no longer just wanted an end to the pain, no, she also wanted something else now. His hand had awakened a desire in her, which now unconsciously longed for satisfaction. So every blow became a yearning torment and at the same time a redeeming promise. Every notch the bamboo carved into her skin brought her closer to the end and the release she hoped for.

"Thank you, my husband," she finally gasped and, without thinking about it, added "I love you, my husband."

He had won. Tonight he felt like a true winner. A sadistic smile played across Ben's face. His desire was limitless and now finally wanted to be satisfied. Once again he swung the rod wide and flicked it across his wife's buttocks.

Tears welled up in the girl's eyes again. Sandra bucked violently under the unexpected shiver of pain and then collapsed onto the dressing table. Desperately her fingers clawed at the wood as this last scream echoed through the house like a musket shot.

"I love you too, wife," Ben breathed, stroking his sobbing wife's violated bottom. Now that he was satisfied with his work, he lowered the cane and finally leaned it against the wall, while his hand eagerly reached for the girl's reddened and cracked skin.

With both hands he caressed the sobbing creature's body, letting her feel his closeness. His fingers glided over the welts again and again. He traced her, but also slid over her private parts. Every now and then he reached for the straps of her wedding dress and began to undo them.

Ben took his time. Time to ease his wife's pain. The pain he had caused her himself. He took his time pampering her delicate bud, which was surrounded by moist, reddened flesh like an oyster. So the girl's whimper finally turned into a quiet moan as pleasure took over again.

A satisfied smile played at the corners of the young man's mouth. He had her under control. Tonight he had proven that he could push Sandra into heaven and hell without her having a chance to defend herself. This realization gave him great satisfaction. At the same time, she also increased his desire. A desire that he had never had for Sandra's body in this way before.

Until then, he had mostly thought about other women while he slept with her. Slaves screaming under his whip were the most present in this mental cinema. Sometimes he even thought about his sister Nora. But today, tonight it was different. Sandra's battered body appealed to him as much as the screams of pain that she had screamed under his blows. The fact that her body was now experiencing obvious pleasure increased that desire even more.

At first he thought about leading her onto the bed, but he couldn't take it any longer. So he reached for her and stroked her pussy with his fingers while he took off his pants and positioned his manhood. He approached his wife from behind. He caressed her vulva with his pole and finally inserted it between his bride's lips, glistening with moisture, for the first time.

Sandra bucked slightly when she felt her husband's member inside her. Her spirits awakened and she felt something that shouldn't exist. Happiness. It felt good as the male member slowly slid into her body and opened her tight vagina. It felt good the way he moved inside her, taking possession of her deeper and deeper.

Her hands wandered over the tabletop for help. Her body, half stripped of her wedding dress, was pushed and impaled. His pelvis slapped against her sore bottom as he sank his strap all the way into her. His balls rubbed against her pearl, and Sandra thought she might lose her mind for a moment as the boy's long shaft deep inside her womb pressed against her womb.

Ben rammed his lance faster and faster into the tight hole of his wife, who was drooling with excitement. The girl's mouth was open and saliva was dripping out as if she were possessed by the devil. Animal sounds now seemed to come from her throat. Sounds of pleasure communicated to the world in an ecstatic way.

He felt his meat drill deep into her. He felt the uncontrollable twitch of her vulva as it was swept away by the hurricane of passion that had built up inside her and eventually swept him away as well. Ben clawed his wife's tender hips with his fingers. His body shook like an earthquake and he tensed until the releasing load finally burst out of his body and left his pulsating tube, which rested deep in Sandra's body.

The hot seed filled her belly like warm tea on a cold winter day. Her tight canal stretched longingly around his pulsating member and milked every last drop from this wand with which young Ben Northwik had now done his duty.

He slowly withdrew from her. Sandra had collapsed on the table under the force of her orgasm. Her head was on the tabletop. Her saliva dripped from her mouth, just as the fertile juice dripped from her freshly inseminated vagina. A deep satisfaction was all she felt at that moment. All the pain, everything that used to burden her, had been released from her, no, she had released herself from it. She had detached herself from her body and was floating in another world at that moment, a world in which there was nothing but pleasure and satisfaction.

So neither Ben nor Sandra noticed that the door had moved slightly. Neither of them knew that they had a silent observer the entire time. Or better yet, an observer. Nora silently hurried back to her room.