Her back no less marked than her front, laying down produced new songs of pain from her beaten flesh as her welts were pressed against the bedspread, not to mention the pressure laying on her arms drew from her shoulders.  Yes, Balthazar had beaten her into submission, the pain cowling her, turning her pride into ash and producing this fearful creature; until she woke, when all would fade away and all that would be left was the sweet memory in his mind of the domination of Aurora, his granddaughter.<br/><br/>Her folds had moistened from his touch, not enough to indicate arousal, but merely in response ingrained deep into her body, as a woman; that a man should want to put his cock in, and to ease the way.  Blue eyes watery looked up at him, and she spoke again, ragged.  "Yes, Master.  Thank you, Master."