FALAHA'S JOURNEY Into Pleasure | 18+

1. BARO

"No way, cuz!" Tarrenat gasps, caressing the shiny surface of my new high-tech ride. Something which we mountain people don't see much here, especially as fancy gifts. He circles in careful steps around it. "That's custom built, ain't it? One of a kind!"

I don't need to affirm that. A fifth-generation mechanic, he knows these things well. So I stand silent. He then looks at me, narrowing one eye, evaluating, chewing his lip. His pale-blue gaze fixates on something that troubles him.

"Oi, Baro, what's that bruise on your neck?"

I instinctively clasp at the spot: it still stings. So do other places all over my body, thankfully hidden under my clothes. "Nothing," I reply, turning up my jacket's collar, and ask, "Wanna take her for a ride?"

Tarrenat continues to stare at me with suspicion, then at the gear, then at me again. "Sure," he says. "If it's legit."

I smirk with the corners of my lips at his worry, but it irks me that his suspicions are sometimes valid.

"Absolutely." I unlock the gear with my wristband, proving to him that the machine is written into my civil license records, therefore legally registered to my name.

She had it filed through official MDF channels, adhering to all vehicle regulations and protocols, so there was nothing strange in this. It was a gift. People give gifts on a daily basis.

But custom made? I should have steered clear of that regna and her habits, which turned out to be quite sadistic. My pain tolerance got really high due to the endorphins and adrenaline running through my body, and I didn't even realize how hard she was whipping me. We had set limits before the play—it was supposed to be light play that surely wouldn't result in torn, broken skin and bruises—but seems like she decided to push and break them and check my actual endurance.

I was lucky that my limbs weren't damaged in ropes, either by pure chance, or because she was keeping an eye out.

As I was falling into her rhythm of play, my pain threshold was rising with every endorphin load release and it soon got me feeling slightly woozy. The next build-up culminated in even more intense stimulation, which pushed me further into trouble.

Inexperienced, I was careless.

At the beginning it was lush and dark and slow. Barely any time passed for me at all as I was drifting through the soft layers of consciousness. And then I found myself really far under, totally blank. I slipped into that state so fast and so deep... and so far away.

Falling.

Flying.

Somewhere else.

Hard to think, hard to process, hard to make decisions.

It was all so new to me. I couldn't stay on guard.

It was a mistake to allow myself to be gagged. Yet even if I hadn't been, I probably would not have been able to speak properly.

I surfaced quickly during her brief check-ins, and slipped back afterwards.

I couldn't even concentrate.

But I got really hard. Painfully hard in need of release. She rode me, still tied up, over some furniture like it was her last day alive. I threw myself into this inhibition-free and passionate indulgence, reaching heights of ecstasy never experienced before.

The intensity of our play got only stronger from there on. My adrenaline levels were held up by that intensity, and combined with elevated levels of endorphins I was the hot core of powerful excitement and euphoric relaxation, gladly receiving everything that was coming my way.