As the hours passed, and Pride used every orifice he safely could in Dancer's body again and again, her status passed through phases. First, as she slowly recovered essence, she began to instinctively expend it in jerks and starts, suddenly flaring to restore her sanity and willpower, even at one point provoking her to deliver a crushing blow to his jaw that would have annihilated lesser men...but which he barely felt. At length, though, these episodes of essence expenditure came less and less, and Pride could even sense the house's servant's peeking around the corners of doors or through the sides of windows, watching this man brutally demolish the woman who had seemed so invincible to them before.<br/><br/>By the time dawn came up over the horizon, flooding the room with its warmth and light, Dancer was a shell of her former self. She was spattered red and white, both with the blood of his body and the cum he had spewed on her. Her stomach was distended with his seed, practically guaranteeing he would fill her belly with bastards before he was done. That formerly lustrous hair, so lush and with that rich caramel brown color, had become lank strips of crimson plastered to her face and body. Her loins and tits were bruised red from his incessant pounding, beyond even her body's ability to keep up with.<br/><br/>Finally, as first light of the sun hit her face, and she knew her patron had truly witnessed her shame, she collapsed unconscious, and fell limp in his arms.