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When they were first married, Henry couldn't quite believe his good fortune. He was wedded to the most beautiful woman in Christendom, who behaved like a queen by day and a whore by night. Often a whore by day as well, in fact. Eleanor was insatiable, sometimes even tiring out her husband, who did his nineteen-year-old best to keep up with her demands. "Faster," she would cry, and "harder!" and "again!" until finally he would fall to the mattress panting, begging her for a truce."Pax, Eleanor, give me a moment to breathe!""I didn't marry you for your skill at breathing," she retorted, laughing at his feeble pleas for a ceasefire in their amorous struggles.She was impatient in those days - she only learned patience later, during the decade he locked her up - and would kiss him and stroke his cock by hand until he regained his vigor and was able to renew his assault on her once more.