But they were not...just pain. If you... thought about it... just right, Ayla thought to herself, you could...almost...make it...seem..like,,,somethi...g not..pain. Ayla closed her eyes to help focus on and transform the sensations, which became less like pain and more like pleasure as the pressure was distributed over more and more needles, her heavy breasts supported on their points, and as she kept her mind...just...so. It was working remarkably well right until the moment the table. My head snapped up, and I found myself startled by the proximity of her. Her face was inches from mine, her eyes not looking down at the scars, but directly into my own, directly into the center of my very being. Her hands were still on my body. Her left nipple scraped briefly across my right one. I couldn't look away. But then she stepped back from me and turned toward her own shower nozzle."You'd better hurry," she said, as if nothing had happened. "Your hair is wet, and I'm going to have to. More

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