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a human body could sustain without losing consciousness.
Over and over, he felt himself bucking wildly underneath the weight
of the woman who owned him; over and over, his hips thrust upwards,
driving himself so deeply into Saori's that he felt he never wanted to
come out. Oceans of cold water poured over Julian Bashir, drowning
him in icy fire. The cords, wet with his sweat, cut against him,
rubbing the skin from his wrists, but the hot electricity of the raw
skin on his arms only added to the intensity of what was breaking
over him with the power of a tsunami. All the nerves in his body
were nothing but hot wires, coursing with voltage that threatened to
burn out his mind. The sensory burnout sustained itself until he
felt he could take no more; incoherent from pleasure, he could only
be buffeted about by the storm raging around and through him. Mi-
nutes, hours . . . he did not count time. When he at last knew him-
self again, the flame lamps were nearly dark, and his Lady was in a
state similar to his own -- asleep on top of him, covered in Saori's own
sweat and his, exhausted.
His eyes took some time to adjust to the light level, and he wondered
how long he had been unaware of his surroundings. A trickle of their
mingled sweat that had once seemed so hot drew a sensuous icy line
dow
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