When the crop fell again she burst out crying. It was as if a dam that had been there for ten years had suddenly burst. Waves of emotion flowed out of her. He kept on beating her, and she wanted it to go on, the pain was still there, oh god, what pain it was, but it was transformed into something else that was pain and not-pain, not pleasure exactly but something good. Her whole body was shaking now, as the emotion poured out of her and as the beating went right through into her bowels, her solar plexus, wherever it was, deep, deep inside her, suffusing her with a warm tide of pure sensation, a flame licking at her innards.
She couldn’t make him stop, she wouldn’t. But she had a vague sense that too much more might be dangerous, might do her a real injury. Well, she was in his hands. She
