It was a very good thing that Markus's voice was as soothing and calming as it was, because Meri was very nearly terrified. She was well versed in the body, in what it could do. She had never been embarrassed or bashful about the body, had regarded it as a magnificent work of art, evidence of the gods' meticulous hand in designing the way everything worked together so well. Ohh, academically she was aware of what pleasure could be had, and she'd heard things of course but even still, to experience it, to feel her heart pounding fit to burst, her body clenching and arching, struggling against his hands as he sought to hold her in place and bring her to a heretofore unknown climax... it was terrifying. In fact, the response it was creating in her was very akin to those which accompanied abject terror; trembling, weakness in the limbs, inability to catch one's breath, racing heart and blood moving more rapidly through the veins. If it were happening to anyone else but her, she would have been fascinated by the correlation of two such different states of emotional stimulation, but since it was happening to her personally, she was rather a bit too in the moment for that to work.
She tried to focus, tried to clear her mind and control herself, even as he admonished her to give up control to him. She sobbed wordlessly as her toes curled and her hips bucked, his fingers working her expertly. Were all knights of his land taught to do such things to women? She'd heard stories from him about Londo, about their worship of the Dawnflower and of the beautiful temples and the honorable knights and fair maidens, but this was something quite a bit different. And she had never quite expected to get a taste of Londo culture so personally. Her eyes fluttered closed, her fingers clenching into fists as she felt something happening, something building and swelling in places deep and low inside of her, things that made her legs stiffen and her head fall back, her thighs trembling as they clamped around his hand. Something was happening, like a spring being slowly pulled back in a crossbow, the tension building up to something that she wasn't entirely sure how to anticipate. But surely she couldn't stay like this forever. Surely she couldn't bear to spend her days with such a torrent of sensation and emotion raging through her. The spring would have to release, the bowstring to snap, there couldn't be this much tension without a release somehow. And even if Markus told her not to be afraid, she couldn't help but be fearful of what it would be like when that tension was released.