The pleasure intensified quickly, it was as much control as she dared to lose as she heard herself calling his name with all her breath. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. "Get in wid ye, ye villin!" And, despite his resistance, Shotbolt was thrust into the chair, which was instantly fastened upon him. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened.
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