{Hot New Release}: Falaha’s Journey Into Pleasure (With an Excerpt)

Here I am, final­ly done with Falaha’s sto­ry!

It began with Falaha’s Jour­ney: A Spacegirl’s Account in Three Move­ments.

Now fresh­ly pub­lished Falaha’s Jour­ney Into Plea­sure con­cludes the series. This ser­i­al nov­el con­sists of three inter­linked sto­ries: Wel­come to Adult­hood, This Lone­ly, Lone­ly Space­man and The Man in a Box.

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Unlike the first book, where love sto­ry was only one of the sub­plots, this book brings romance to the front. This is an adult (erot­ic) sci­ence fic­tion ser­i­al nov­el that comes packed with polyamorous rela­tion­ships between straight, bisex­ual and het­eroflex­i­ble kinky peo­ple.

Fala­ha has grown and her trans­for­ma­tion also encom­passes a tran­si­tion from a young girl into a young woman. This is an explic­it, at times graph­ic, sto­ry of a young woman explor­ing the depths of plea­sure, of mind, body and heart. But she isn’t going on that jour­ney alone…

Falaha’s Jour­ney Into Plea­sure is a sto­ry of recov­ery, fam­ily life, spicy romance and sex, with more insights into the Dan­na cul­ture and per­son­al­i­ties of the char­ac­ters, also things left unex­plored, and side ques­tions left unan­swered in the main book. This is a pre­cious time of peace before anoth­er calami­ty.

Here’s an excerpt from The Man in a Box, сopy­right 2015, by Jeno Marz.

~~~

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.

She knew I would not be able to make it stop in that state. There was no way I would utter even a sin­gle word by that time. I had no expe­ri­ence with this. I was too help­less and too vul­ner­a­ble. She tricked me into it and threw me over the edge. So soft­ly, so bru­tal­ly. She also should’ve warned me ahead of time she doesn’t do after­care. Tied up and my voice mut­ed, it was so scary, yet my body betrayed me, get­ting excit­ed and enjoy­ing it. It was too over­whelm­ing and so embar­rass­ing.

Embar­rass­ing that I let her abuse me.

It made me angry, so angry.

Even though I was not at fault for it hap­pen­ing.

I hit my absolute lim­it hard. Rather, at first I did not even real­ize this had occurred… She did not intend to stop at all until she was done with me.

Dropped off in the moun­tains not far from my apart­ment com­plex, exhaust­ed and left on my own to process all the intense feel­ings, I couldn’t grasp what she was think­ing. I was too busy crawl­ing out of my deep­est, dark­est pit of heavy expe­ri­ences, through the ter­ror, through tears, through hat­ing myself, through hat­ing my exis­tence. The bruise on my neck—I actu­al­ly scratched myself, aim­ing for my face… I think. It took me a while to return from that deep space of mind, not to men­tion to crawl back home through the night, naked.

It made me real­ize how frag­ile I was. How frag­ile a person’s mind is. That, I hat­ed it too.

I came so close to break­ing. Was it her aim, to destroy me? Fucked-up woman! And one of the high-rank­ing enforcers from anoth­er region to boot, belong­ing to the top ken­nar of Medas! She did it all being con­fi­dent I can­not do much about her—even with all the evi­dence in place.

This, my fuck-up, left me feel­ing too open and con­fused and sad, all of which in turn brought up a slight but very dis­gust­ing shade of betray­al. I’d met a real preda­tor that I should have watched out for, just like I was always aware of the dark side of moun­taineer­ing.

At least my kid­neys were spared. I have no soma, so my bruis­es won’t heal that fast. What’s worse, this gift of hers didn’t seem to be amends or an apol­o­gy for cross­ing the line and actu­al­ly hurt­ing—near­ly trau­ma­tiz­ing me—more like an attempt to ‘acquire’ me again or ensure my silence, sub­tly sug­gest­ing I keep it peace­ful and qui­et or else. Could be trou­ble on my sin­gle ass.

I nev­er under­stood what women were think­ing, know­ing our rela­tion­ships would nev­er progress past one-night stand or a cou­ple of weeks of light­heart­ed fun in the longest run. I have always told them this upfront, if some had inter­est in me, so I wouldn’t have to deal with all the attach­ments after­wards.

I nev­er chased women. I was only going about my busi­ness, doing what I liked, but some­how I end­ed up tan­gled in the weird­est arrange­ments with the strangest peo­ple. And, of course, I was giv­en gifts for my… courtship ser­vices. I had a sus­pi­cion that word of mouth did quite a dis­ser­vice to me, spread­ing my ‘fame’ in cer­tain female cir­cles: adven­tur­ous women of var­i­ous ages, look­ing for romance and excite­ment and ‘liv­ing toys’ in the Kjr­rn Moun­tains. Bare­ly aver­age-look­ing, not extreme­ly well-spo­ken, yet females flocked to me like I was the last breath of air in this whole region… Kjr­rngvik is a fuck­ing sports resort! They have no respect for us small ken­nar peo­ple. I’m a climber, not a beat­ing bag with a dick!

That’s a scary face.” Tar­renat stares at me, nar­row­ing one eye, tilt­ing his head to the side. This pos­ture shows his high­est degree of sus­pi­cion. “No trou­ble?” He now chews his lip again, ner­vous. “What if they kick you out of the Force?! And you are so close to com­plet­ing your appren­tice­ship—”

They won’t.” The only trou­ble I’m cur­rent­ly in is that the skin on my ass and back and arms and thighs hurts like I’ve been slid­ing bare down the icy moun­tain trail. Even with all the meds and sooth­ing oint­ments I’ve applied. I’m sure Tar­ry is not inter­est­ed to hear about that par­tic­u­lar fas­ci­nat­ing adven­ture. But I’m not angry with him, he has his own trou­bles.

You are too smart for your own good,” he con­cludes.

Oh, shut it and get in.” I open the hatch and leap into the pilot’s seat, too care­less and imme­di­ate­ly winc­ing from pain. Tar­renat takes place in the back seat. I can hear him pal­pat­ing the inte­ri­ors, click­ing his tongue in appre­ci­a­tion. This guy is much smarter than he appears. Yet peo­ple don’t see it and he doesn’t both­er show­ing it off. Such an atti­tude has always pissed me off. The only time he shows a slight shade of ambi­tion is when Neve is involved—for her he would go far and against any­one.

And me, get­ting into some­thing shit­ty, at a time like this… This week I’ve sure­ly stepped out of my com­fort zone into some deep, dark places. I would think twice before try­ing these games again… and absolute­ly not with that woman. My trust breached, and being beat­en and hav­ing my mind turned inside out while tied up and gagged, that’s not my type of fun.

Still, the glimpse of her true side makes my job to keep peo­ple like her out of our place eas­i­er.

After check­ing her full pro­file, I found noth­ing that would make her sus­pi­cious in any way. It was her first time in Kjr­rngvik, though she has trav­eled a lot to oth­er des­o­late resorts in the past. Moun­tains are her pre­ferred voca­tion­al choice and noth­ing unusu­al in that, yet I can­not shake the feel­ing that it is right under my nose. Things like a trace of sim­i­lar accounts, unre­port­ed and vir­tu­al­ly unknown, if her vic­tims are soma­less peo­ple from dis­tant regions and small, weak fam­i­lies… Maybe her past vic­tims are no longer alive… Maybe she keeps them locked away in a secret place for her per­son­al enter­tain­ment… My sore ass tells me I could be onto some­thing big here: ille­gal slav­ery, sex­u­al sadism, ser­i­al mur­ders… Or maybe her offens­es are ter­ri­fy­ing to a less­er degree and she just finds plea­sure in destroy­ing men psy­cho­log­i­cal­ly for what­ev­er rea­son. Or maybe I’m just slight­ly para­noid and unhap­py after the raw and still-fresh expe­ri­ence of a failed affair.

Either way, she seems like my ‘client’ to inves­ti­gate. It wouldn’t hurt to check her prop­er­ly.

I lock my safe­ty belts. In any oth­er sit­u­a­tion I would have run this gear off a cliff, but we are so poor that I can’t afford throw­ing out use­ful things just because of my issues. Espe­cial­ly things I paid for with my dear­est butt—quite lit­er­al­ly this time—which has already earned my small ken­nar a kind of an infra­struc­ture of our own.

My father is prob­a­bly rolling in his icy grave some­where out there…

My moth­er has long dis­owned me and cut every tie to our ken­nar, so what she might think about my way of life is irrel­e­vant.

I’m going to pro­pose to Neve again,” Tar­renat sud­den­ly declares, seri­ous. “Her dad will freak out.” I hear him fas­ten­ing his safe­ty belts.

It’s not his busi­ness what his daugh­ter wants,” I say, start­ing the engine.

He thinks oth­er­wise.”

This fam­i­ly feud has been going on for too long already. “He should just fuck off and let her breathe. She’s not a kid, nor brain­less: she can think for her­self.”

I’m afraid, Baro. As things are now, she will be giv­en off-world. The word is she has already been offered, and not in a con­ven­tion­al way. Mom says she didn’t see Neve at work yes­ter­day. She might have tak­en the day off, but I have a bad feel­ing, Baro.”

Not in a con­ven­tion­al way, eh? The only way you can get an adult woman off this plan­et in a non-con­ven­tion­al way is against her will.

But the day after my abuser was here, in Kjr­rngvik?

I frown. My gut feels like it is onto some­thing. If Neve goes off-world, bring­ing her back home from the oth­er ken­nar would be trou­ble­some if not down­right dan­ger­ous. It will get hard­er from now on, as the rumors of full-scale evac­u­a­tion are begin­ning to cir­cu­late. I know those are no rumors, though. I’ve seen the data on Moth­er­ships in con­struc­tion docks in the out­er sys­tem. In ten to fif­teen years Klia will be cleared com­plete­ly. A day… So Neve is def­i­nite­ly still in Klia, if not on Medas. If she ends up tak­en to anoth­er star sys­tem, she will be lost to us for­ev­er.

I must not allow this to hap­pen.

She doesn’t belong there, Tar­ry. You know this. We’ll think of some­thing. I’m sick of see­ing our young women being sold off to oth­er fam­i­lies. No per­son from any oth­er ken­nar would even con­sid­er enter­ing ours. At this rate we will be wiped out with­in this gen­er­a­tion.”

Then become the Head,” he says.

You know that won’t stop par­ents from ship­ping their off­spring to what they think is a bet­ter life. There is noth­ing I can offer to our ken­nar as a Head. Why do you think no one took on this role after my father’s death? It’s over for ken­nar Kljvk.”

Tar­renat is silent behind my back. Think­ing or sulk­ing, I don’t know. Then he says, “That’s not true. Many of us think you should become the Head. Everyone’s been reserv­ing this posi­tion for you.”

How fool­ish of you bunch.

I say noth­ing. In silence we take off.

The gear moves smooth­ly over the rocky ter­rain, per­fect­ly fit­ted for it. We are on our way deep into the moun­tains, away from our apart­ment com­plex.

Still, my ‘roman­tic’ sit­u­a­tion and con­nec­tions could be of use to our kennar’s advan­tage. This thought gives me the shiv­ers and I leave this option as the last resort, like in case my arms and legs get ripped off for what­ev­er rea­son, or some­thing.

Once we are over the pass, I dis­able the SafeDrive and speed down the moun­tain. This gear was prob­a­bly built accord­ing to the blue­prints of sev­er­al space explor­er vehi­cles. It grips on rocks and uneven ground, adjust­ing itself to every obsta­cle in its way, grace­ful­ly bounc­ing off rocks and walls, mak­ing tricky turns in the air. Part-rid­ing, part-fly­ing, we don’t feel much force or shak­ing in the cock­pit. It’s per­fect and I soon get bored. I’m not used to lux­u­ry or com­fort in life. I make a strange obser­va­tion that this gear dis­con­nects me from the moun­tain. I feel noth­ing. I’m not excit­ed, though the dis­play shows we are already stream­ing down­ward on a twist­ed path at a speed close to the upper end of low subsonic—almost reg­u­lar cruis­ing speed.

There’s def­i­nite­ly anoth­er sys­tem besides SafeDrive at work. An arcai. I will rip its guts out once I get to it! I want some auton­o­my while dri­ving, and some strong sen­sa­tions. I can’t even prop­er­ly vent now.

The fuck she thinks I am! This shit is for kids!

My third cousin feels oth­er­wise. I hear his excit­ed sniffs at every sharp turn and roll-over. He prob­a­bly even smiles to him­self, enjoy­ing the ride.

We reach Space­port High­way Nine on the oth­er side of the moun­tain range fast. This is the only road in this region that con­nects every­thing.

The road is old, one of the ear­li­est con­struct­ed on Medas. It has seen the first set­tlers of our ken­nar. Once on the smooth sur­face, the gear read­justs itself into nor­mal dri­ve state and I hit the gas, going in the oppo­site direc­tion from Kjr­rngvik.

Tar­renat and I have almost com­plet­ed our appren­tice­ships at the Engi­neer­ing Depart­ment of the Defense Force, he as a Mechan­i­cal Engi­neer and I am delv­ing addi­tion­al­ly into realms of math­e­mat­ics and math­e­mat­i­cal physics, but I can­not tell him or any­one about my oth­er part of the deal with the gov­ern­ment. The part where none of the enforcers can stick their noses into. The part where even the low­est of the Peace­keep­ers has over­rid­ing clear­ance, lev­el I2, being under direct author­i­ty of the High Com­mand of the Com­mon­wealth.

It doesn’t make me untouch­able, but it gives me access to infor­ma­tion I need to pro­tect myself, and to dig my ken­nar out of the shad­ows.

Some­how, we will make it through.

~~~

Thank you for read­ing and if you’d like to read the whole sto­ry, it is avail­able in stores list­ed below:

Ama­zon US | Ama­zon UK | Ama­zon CA | Ama­zon AU | Smash­words

For more infor­ma­tion about this ser­i­al nov­el and oth­er read­ing options, please check out this page.

You can also add the book to your Goodreads list.

Jeno Marz
JENO MARZ is a science fiction writer from Latvia, Northern Europe, with background in electronics engineering and computer science. She is the author of two serial novels, Falaha’s Journey: A Spacegirl’s Account in Three Movements and Falaha’s Journey into Pleasure. Marz is current at work on a new SF trilogy. All her fiction is aimed at an adult audience.

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