On his throne Malcolm watched her intently. Mona would have imagined him done for the night after mounting three young nymphs in a row. But he’d become his character. He was a satyr through and through. His cock, which seemed larger than ever, jutted out, red and proud, from a thatch of thick dark hair. Sunshine knelt at his feet, a large white bowl on the floor and a clay pitcher of water in her hand. She poured the water slowly over Malcolm’s organ, using her free hand to wash it with the water. He was being purified for Mona, and she for him.
