Quentin's lips twitched up into a grin as, for a moment, he watched her. She was undeniably beautiful even with her tear-stained face and trembling muscles, as well as the patches of bruises; most of which were fading, with the noticeable exception of those adorning her rear. Furthermore she was flexible, graceful in her movement and positioning and so very compliant... She was becoming the kind of girl any man would adore, but Quentin doubly so. He even welcomed the fear in her eyes. There was still work to do, of course, but they were firmly into territory where he could marvel at what she'd turned into.<br/><br/>He walked over to stand between her broadly splayed legs and then with a caution befitting only the elderly or the very proper - Quentin satisfied the latter, naturally - he eased himself to his knees. He flexed the switch a final time - it was little more than a light, slender and flexible strip of wood - before using it to flick the front of Zoey's cunt. These blows weren't nearly so hard; they stung and shocked, rather than truly hurt. Each made her twitch though and, true to form, Quentin watched her reactions with an eager curiosity.<br/><br/>Gradually the speed of each collision grew and with it the result, both to Zoey's body and soon after to Quentin's excitement. He pushed forward, snagging one of Zoey's legs and dragging it up alongside his body while pushing himself toward her sex. A momentary fumble of his fingers saw his thighs and prick free to stand in the air, for at least as long as it took for him to push it forward against her slightly sore sex.<br/><br/>There was no more easing or gently guiding himself forward; he was pushing past her netherlips in moments, filling her and eagerly settling down to rut against her. One arm held her leg high and out of the way - leaving Zoey to keep the other wide, if she wanted to please him - while the other bought his tool lashing across the side and top of Zoey's chest.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>