apartment, it was small, barely room inside for a modest wardrobe and a bed—

simple and unadorned—with good quality sheets and covers but no hangings or

side curtains.

“This is normally done nude, you know,” he told her.

She blushed but nodded. Turning, she let him open her borrowed dress. He

dropped it to the floor, lifting her bloodied chemise over her head.

In the daylight, the wounds on her back looked even more terrible, and they

extended almost to her knees. How many times has she been beaten bloody and

no one tried to help? Even once is too many.

Abandoning this line of thought, he pushed back the covers on his bed, glad

to note the cleaning woman had changed the sheets.

He extended a hand and she gripped it for support, climbing onto the

mattress.

“Get into a comfortable position, love,” he instructed. “I'll work around what

you can manage.”

She lay down on her uninjured side, facing him, her arm under her head.

From the front, she looked less desperately damaged, and he could focus his attention on her blushing cheeks, her pretty breasts and her soft thighs, and ignore the yellow and purple bruises on her abdomen. He undressed quickly and

joined her, face to face, leaning in for a long, sweet kiss.

“You like kissing, don't you, love?” he asked, his lips inches from hers.

“Yes. Is that good?”

Her hesitant eagerness charmed him, reminding him why all this had been

necessary. “It's an excellent start. You know, if you open a little, I can give you

an even better kiss.”

“Really?” She sounded doubtful.

She likes kissing that much, does she? Good. “Try it. Don't be startled though.”

“What are you going to do?”

“You'll see.”

Her lips parted. He lowered his mouth to hers again, pulling the pins from her hair to let the long dark strands fall all around her. How beautiful she is.

Working up the desire to be intimate with her would not be difficult at all. He already desired her, but he really did want her to find joy in their marriage bed

someday, and so he had to take her slowly.

Stroking the silky strands, he let his tongue touch her lips. She drew in a deep breath but didn't protest, allowing his experience to guide them. Excellent.

He entered her mouth. She tasted of tea and woman, and he worked her mouth

gently for long moments while her surprise faded. Eventually, she began to respond instinctively to his kiss, touching his tongue hesitantly with hers. He let

her explore for a few moments and then drew back.

“Was that wrong?” she asked, her eyes filled with worry.

It occurred to him that in her mind, doing things wrong was not just

embarrassing but dangerous. He hastened to reassure her. “No, it was perfect.”

“I feel like such a bad girl, being nude in bed with you.” Her eyes turned shy,

though he would not say exactly ashamed.

“Ironically, the same characteristics that make a bad girl make a good wife,”

Christopher replied. “Now that we're married, love, you have every right and responsibility to share your lovely body and your sweet kisses with me, and I have the same towards you.”

“Good. I like the way you touch me,” she said as his fingers stroked through

her hair.

“You haven't had enough affection in years, have you?”

She shook her head.

“I'll take care of that for you.” His words made her smile, nervously, but sincerely. “Now then, are you ready for a little more?”

“Such as?”

“You have lovely little breasts. May I touch them?”

Confusion again. “Why do you want to?”

Christopher squashed his frustration. It's not her fault she doesn't know. At