Podcasts about Becks

The Time Riders: Part 14 Visiting old friends, and Nanu discovers hot sauce. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. A certain bedroom. If she'd been worried about feeling alone, she wasn't noticing at the moment. There were so many fascinating things around here, all requiring her examination. There was an entire world to explore, after all, and it was apparently much bigger than the one she'd left behind. It was hard to conceive of, really; a world larger than Rome, than the empire, but according to her Mistress, Re-be-kah, she was not going to run out of things to be stunned by. So far, Mistress had been right. Nanu was kneeling on the bed, minutely examining the fabric that made up the soft sheets they'd been sleeping on. She tugged at the material, noticing how it was so tough that she needn't worry about tearing it. She tugged and tugged, giggling with delight when she couldn't wreck it. How clever the people of tomorrow were! She clambered off the bed and walked over to the window. She had only briefly put on any clothes, and that was to see her Mistress to the door as she left for work. Becky had made sure Nanu understood how the front door lock worked before she left. Nanu was only wearing the burning cock-sack garment, the one with the symbol of the musical group Let Zeppli on it, but the second Mistress was gone, she'd shucked it off and scampered around naked, laughing in delight. She'd been so tempted to stand in the window wearing no clothes and shake her nude body at the world, because she promised Mistress she would stay out of trouble, because she didn't want the vigiles coming for her since she'd only just gotten here. Mistress' 'free country' wasn't as free as it sounded, at least in her opinion. The tiny Egyptian girl walked up to the window of the bedroom and leaned on the frame, sighing dreamily as she rested her chin on her arms and gazed out at the world beyond the glass. Trees were starting to be green, and the grass of Mistress' lawn was visible, along with plants that would apparently become lovely flowers. High up in the blue sky, a strange bird flew. It barely moved, just gliding along, and seemed to have an almost cruciform shape. It left a weird trail of white cloud behind. What strange animals there were in the world of tomorrow. She left the window and went into the bathroom, plunking herself down on the commode and peeing, giggling at the sound produced by the material the bowl was made from. Once she was done, she headed downstairs, feeling a mite peckish. She went up to the fridge and opened the door, fascinated by the chill she felt as she leaned in to see what was available. Re-be-kah had left food for her to eat, all prepared and with her name on it, so that she knew what was safe. Seeing as how the ba-lo had made her almost shit herself to death the day before. The parfait was sitting in a bowl, with yummy-looking red and black berries swirled into it, along with a cereal that Mistress had called 'granola'. She took that and then retrieved a few slices of homemade bread from a little wooden container on the counter. Mistress had left some utensils and butter on the table, and even the peanut butter! Nanu loved the peanut butter; she couldn't wait to have it licked off her cunt! Sated some minutes later, Nanu wandered around, examining little things about the house that she hadn't noticed yet. She was careful to not mess with any switches, because she didn't know what all of them did. Apparently they weren't all just for the lights. She jumped up and down on the sturdy long chair, which was apparently called a 'chesterfield', rolled around on the comfy rug, and diddled herself in front of a mirror, cumming loudly and shamelessly. She loved looking at herself while she masturbated, she was so beautiful! Nanu flopped back on the rug, breathing heavily after a lovely climax. Her whole body tingled, and wonderful images of herself and her Mistress fucking floated through her mind. The house was warm, in a way she'd never felt before. Living in the slave quarters, and wearing what amounted to little more than a poorly made sack for clothing, she had often been cold, and rarely warm enough to suit her. This was; wonderful. This new world confused and frightened her, but she also knew she would acclimate, and then she would be warm, well-fed, and she could fuck to her heart's content. She was going to love her new life, she was sure. She hoped Re-be-kah was having as wonderful a day as she was. The Education of Nanu, as 'The Gods Will It'. Mooredale Secondary. Becky sat behind her desk, trying to conceal the way her eyes were spiraling with exasperation and boredom. While not every student in her Physics class was a dunce, only a few of them truly cared and paid attention. Most were just doing what was required to pass. Even if they got great grades, they weren't interested in retaining the material. And then there was one young dunce in particular. She tried not to scowl at Mark, who was zoning out at his desk, looking out the window. She could see even from here that his notes were inadequate. He couldn't claim to be memorizing the material; he had the memory of a goldfish crossed with a sieve. How had he made it into this prestigious high school to begin with? She was ultimately happy he had, of course, since that meant three months from now (from his point of view), he would be taking her on adventures with the Holmes Field Device. But this twerp sitting in front of her wasn't that time traveler yet, was he? He was just some lazy kid who was going to fail her course. Then he'd come back in time to fuck her, and convince her to not fail him. She'd agree, as long as he showed her the time machine and took her on adventures. Looking at him now, she couldn't believe she'd made the agreement. But she had, and now she was stuck passing him. She couldn't get out of it if she tried. She'd solidified her personal future. Fating, as people in the time travel community called it. Once you knew for certain that something factually was going to happen to you down the road, there was nothing you could do to change it, no matter how hard you tried. You might even hurt yourself doing it. Time lock. It was a thing. So if you enjoyed feeling like you were in control of your destiny, then you did your best not to find out what was to happen to you in the future. Loose talk stops clocks, and all that. She looked at Mark again, still trying not to frown. It was so strange to think that this boy, who was weeks away from being eighteen, was the same knucklehead who would be her time-travelling companion. She'd be having sex with him, and they'd be sharing girls in the time stream, including Nanu, who was waiting for her back at home. The Mark in front of her was seventeen, almost eighteen. Time travel made the rules seem so arbitrary, and even dumb sometimes. She couldn't have sex with him right now. She couldn't sext him under her desk right now. It was illegal. Yet somehow, magically, in a few weeks, on a particular day, Mark's upcoming birthday would make him an adult, even though functionally nothing was different about his biology. This Mark didn't know that they were lovers. That they would be lovers, in any event. Like all the other dumb boys in the school, he talked about her being hot, and what he'd do to her, childish boasting and hormonal nonsense. They talked about how she tended to dress rather conservatively, but clearly she had a rocking' bod underneath her clothes. They'd seen her in the school gym a few times. Becky didn't know why she dressed so conservatively, now that she thought of it. There were certainly less attractive teachers on staff who dressed more sexily than she did. Connie Marangos, the English Lit teacher, was shaped like a pear and had a face like a foot, but she somehow managed to dress sexy. What was Becky's excuse? She didn't want to give the horny students any more masturbation material than they already got. Horny teenage boys were annoying. Even Mark was annoying. Would he get better by the time she caught up with him in the future, three months from now? She could hope, but she doubted it. He hadn't exactly proven so thus far on their adventures. Another quiet sigh escaped her as she glanced for a moment in his general direction. She wanted to pin that boy down right now and fuck him, hard. She couldn't, but she wanted to. It bothered her that she was starting to feel a tingle in her needy cunt, and there was nothing she could do about it. She'd have to wait to get home and take out her horny frustrations on Nanu. Not that the Egyptian girl would mind, of course. She thought back about what she and Mark had experienced so far in the time stream. They'd gone to seventeenth century France, gotten in several brawls, and Mark had been fatally shot, only surviving because he wasn't meant to die yet. She'd been kidnapped by Cardinal Richelieu and made a lady-in-waiting to Anne of Austria, and she'd met her own ancestor, the gorgeous, brilliant, and deadly noblewoman Alexandra D'Assaut, who had helped Mark rescue her from the Louvre, and out from right under the nose of the Sun King. Becky might have shot Porthos And might also have kicked Richelieu in the nuts. That sounded so weird, but it had happened. She was there. That, or she was on the world's longest and most intense acid trip. They went to Rome, to participate in a genuine orgy, and they'd met and bought the beautiful slave girl Nanu. The intent had been to set her free, and Becky had even paid gold for her; but Mark screwed everything up by getting arrested for fucking a Vestal Virgin, one of Rome's most sacred priestesses. One thing led to another, and they'd had to rescue him from being skewered by gladiators in the Colosseum, mostly by dropping the roof on the emperor. Mark, or 'Bonosus' as he was known in ancient Rome now, was probably the most notorious criminal in the empire not named Spartacus. It didn't surprise Becky that even in the time stream, everyone wanted to kill Mark. He had that effect on people. They'd finally brought Nanu forward in time with them, since she was hopelessly devoted to them, and leaving her on her own in Rome was dangerous for her, even if she had proof of her manumission. It had been an eventful few days since their arrival back home, with Nanu getting a crash course in the fact that everything wanted to kill her. At least to hear Nanu talk about it. Even common household items were absurdly dangerous for her, and noises that modern people just took for granted drove the younger girl nuts. Food was a big gamble with Nanu. Modern preservatives and nitrates wreaked havoc on her digestive tract, something she couldn't possibly have built any immunity to. To Becky's surprise, Nanu wasn't lactose-intolerant, because as a slave, she'd been given cow's milk, something peasants and slaves subsisted on and normal people were too good for. It was strange to Becky that bovine milk and beef had been considered low-class food back then. They'd probably change their minds if they'd ever had a filet mignon or a good porterhouse. Dumb ancient people. At least Nanu ate everything she possibly could. A yawn from Mark's direction brought her out of her reverie, and she restrained another scowl in his direction. It was nowhere near the first time he'd annoyed her with his lack of interest, but she was getting more irritated with it of late, because she knew what was coming. She had to put up with this. She had to fail him. Because his future self would come back in time and convince her to change his grade. She couldn't just give him a passing grade now to speed things up if she tried. Something would make her fail him. Which he so richly deserved. Why the universe gave this kid a time machine was beyond her. A retarded chimp would have deserved it more, and probably been less of a menace. She couldn't fuck him, not yet. But that didn't mean she couldn't fuck with him, right? "Mr. Simmons," she called in his direction, raising her eyebrow and getting everyone's attention, including his. She called him 'Mark' so regularly now that saying 'Mr. Simmons' seemed strange. "Since you are clearly well ahead of the curriculum, what with having time to yawn and stare out the window, I thought maybe you could explain the differences in the scalar and vector measurements to the class?" "I, uh;” he fumbled, looking worried now. "I;” "Well, go on," she said, gesturing with her hand. "We spent the entire second half of last week on the model, after all. The copious notes you took are still fresh, yes?" "I; that is; uh;” he said, going pale. "Dumbass," laughed one of the other boys from nearby. Several other students laughed, and Mark got pelted with crumpled-up balls of paper for looking like a dolt. Becky didn't bother feeling bad for him, since this had to happen in order for things to work out in the future. That, and the brat deserved it. A girl near the front, one Gina Felton, put her hand up, looking smug. She seemed to have the answers, generally. Becky restrained a sigh as she allowed the brown-haired girl to answer. Gina dutifully recited off the material they'd been given, even offering some explanation along the way to demonstrate that she understood what she'd been taught, not just parroting the lesson. She wasn't as smart as she thought she was, and she'd never be a physicist, but she came from a wealthy WASP family type that was so common in this neighborhood, and she was a kiss-ass to the faculty. Becky would give Gina her passing grade and get rid of her. If only were so easy with Mark. "That's, uh; that was I was gonna say," Mark added once Gina had finished her singsong response. More laughter and mockery was hurled his way. "Okay, enough, people," Becky announced, standing up to get their attention and put an end to the paper projectiles. "Miss Felton, well done. Mr. Simmons, you can stay after class and clean up the room, along with my chalkboards." Becky liked using chalk boards, because one of her two favorite professors in her university years had insisted on using them. It had seemed like magic to her when he'd used them, all these wondrous equations laid out for her, explained thoroughly, and then they were gone, replaced by more fascinating numbers, a guided tour into how the universe worked. Only he could- "Ma'am?" a voice called. "Miss Fischer?" Becky blinked, coming out of yet another reverie. She was beginning to think that maybe she shouldn't be giving Mark shit for doing it, since she kept zoning out during class, thinking about the profs. She and Nanu had a playdate with them later this week at Blackwell Manor, so she'd just have to keep it in her pants until then. "Sorry, I was remembering a lesson," she said, recovering and sitting down again, just in case she leaked through her slacks. Thankfully, they were moments away from the period ending, and she'd be free of these yahoos for another day. "Tomorrow, we'll stick our toes into the concept of Fleming's Left-Hand Rule and its application in electromagnetism. Whether you're working on the Large Hadron Collider, or your grandfather's ancient lawnmower in the future, this is a good thing to understand. Go ahead and get ready, just wait for the bell. Mr. Simmons, the chalkboard awaits your attentions." Yet more razzing at Mark's expense, while Gina just sat at her desk looking smug. As annoying as Mark was, Becky simply did not like Gina Felton. She was eighteen now, and Becky had good reason to suspect that the skinny little broad was carrying on with the History professor, Mr. Browning. The less she knew, the better. Kind of like about her own future. Ah well, she thought as she watched Mark dully begin wiping off the chalkboards and then pounding out the erasers. Not much longer to put up with this, and then the real fun begins. Just show some patience, girl. She somehow refrained from subtly taking a picture of Mark's ass with her phone. "Mistress, you're back!" Nanu chirped as she skipped up to the door, quite naked. "I didn't break anything!" "The fact that you led with that statement makes me suspicious," Becky sighed as she closed the door behind her. She then hung up her blazer on a peg and allowed the Egyptian girl to take her hand and pull her into the house. "Did you eat?" "Yes, Mistress, everything you left for me," Nanu announced proudly. "Nothing left. Did I do well?" "You ate everything I left you for you?" Becky asked, raising an eyebrow. Nanu dragged her into the dining room and gestured grandly at the table. The top was covered in plates, bowls, and containers, along with utensils. Even the peanut butter jar, which had been mostly full this morning, was seemingly licked clean. "Holy shit," Becky mumbled in English, gazing at the table. "You ate absolutely everything." "Did I do right, Mistress?" Nanu asked. What did Becky tell her? That Nanu had eaten the food she'd prepped and was meant to last for a few days? She hadn't exactly been that explicit, because she hadn't thought to tell Nanu that. She'd overlooked how voracious Nanu could be. A lifetime of slavery saw to it that Nanu ate every meal as if it might be her last. Well, that was on Becky. She'd just start again and be more concise next time about her expectations. "I'm proud of you for looking after yourself," she said finally, making the tiny girl beam with delight. "Did you have problems with anything I showed you?" "I played with the water makers a little bit, and practiced washing my hands," Nanu said, waiting impatiently while Becky started removing her work clothes. "Your soap is very different from what my masters used. It smells nice, not like piss." "Maybe because we don't use urine in our soap these days," the blonde observed as she tossed aside her skirt and then began undoing her bra. Nanu, predictably, just watched intently, almost salivating at the thought of her Mistress' tits. "So now you know how to keep yourself clean. Tonight, I'll let you try to work the shower, that way you can use it if I'm not home and you need to wash up." Nanu nodded. "It was awkward trying to get the peanut butter off my cunt. I am very flexible, but even I couldn't reach it all with my tongue. I used a cloth finally. But I tried, Mistress, I really did." "Nobody made you smear the peanut butter on yourself, silly," Becky laughed as she shucked her bra, revealing her lovely tits to Nanu. Then she bent over and peeled off her underwear. "But I'm glad you fed yourself and know how to get clean, my love. It sounds like you had a good day." "There were so many things to do, Mistress," Nanu breathed, enjoying the sight of Becky's hairless cunt. She'd never seen a more perfect cunt. "I was amazed by how strong your sheets are. And I glided up and down the hallway in my socks, and I listened to music and danced;” "I'm so pleased that you worked out the controller for the stereo," Becky cooed, caressing Nanu's cheek. The smaller girl closed her eyes, enjoying the touch before turning her head a little to kiss her Mistress' palm. "What music did you listen to?" "But I am proud to be your lover, and that you're my Mistress," Nanu protested. "And I am proud of you, Nanu," Becky assured her, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. "But just trust me on this, okay? Hearing people called 'Mistress' will be very weird to some of them. I want tonight to be fun, not awkward." Nanu sighed somewhat despondently and nodded. "So I must call you Re-be-kah tonight?" The blonde pondered the matter. "Can you say 'Becky'?" Nanu pursed her lips. "Beh-kee." "That's what all my friends call me," Becky said, pulling Nanu into a hug. It was weird to have their jackets in the way and not be able to feel their tits squashing together. "Except for M-ark," Nanu pointed out, enjoying the hug, even if she couldn't feel her mistress' tits. "He called you 'Beks'." "Well, Mark's an idiot, and he's lucky he's the one with the time machine, or I would flunk him into eternity," Becky muttered, preferring to not think about the bane of her academic existence. "Asshat." "Ass-hat;” Nanu repeated. "Mark is an ass-hat?" She's like a toddler, Becky thought, making a note to watch her language. She retains all the naughty words she shouldn't know. "Let's go, Noah Webster," Becky sighed, standing up again. "Your chariot awaits;” The Gardiner Expressway, heading south. Nanu was indeed turned sideways in her seat, despite the seatbelt, her face plastered to the window as she gaped in awe at the scenery that sped by. Aside from the endless metal monsters that were running with them or in the opposite direction, there were also tall buildings and houses, bright lights on tall posts, and even giant bridges that they went under and didn't fall on their heads! Nanu was too astonished to remember to be frightened of everything. Becky smiled as she drove, pleased that Nanu was distracted and not cowering in fear. Not that she would blame her. It had taken some convincing to get her into the car at all, but once she discovered how comfy the seats were, she warmed up to the idea quickly enough. Becky buckled her into her seat and even let Nanu honk the horn once before they pulled out. Nanu yelped in shock at the loud sound, but then clapped in delight, realizing that she could (if allowed) control the beast's roar. She took it slow at first, driving at a virtual crawl through her neighborhood, letting Nanu get a feel for the movement of the car. She was going places, but her legs weren't doing any of the work. It was like being in a palanquin or a chariot, only completely enclosed. The roar of something called an 'engine' surrounded her, replacing the clatter of iron-bound wooden wheels and horse hooves. It was almost twilight, and the lights on the tall posts glared brightly, making Nanu shield her eyes occasionally. She could see people in their own metal beasts, men and women, often with children riding along in the seats behind. She smiled brightly and waved back at one little girl who had seen her and waved to her. "We are going so fast," she breathed, almost wrenching her neck as she tried to watch cars whip by in the opposite direction. "Nobody in the world has ever gone as fast as this, I'll bet." Becky thought about that, realizing Nanu was probably right. She was going just over seventy kilometers per hour at the moment, but that was faster than anything had ever gone until locomotive engines came on the scene, once again in the mid-nineteenth century. It may have seemed slow to her, but it was light speed to Nanu. "Oh, we can go a lot faster than this, Nanu," she said casually, enjoying her lover's innocent wonder at everything. "Go faster!" Nanu urged in excitement. "Go faster than all the other metal beasts! Shame them!" "; except for maybe that one;” she added in a faltering tone as a red Ferrari whipped by, the roaring noise of its engine filling the interior of Becky's car. "How do you make the beast go faster, Mistress? I do not see reins or a whip." "It's not alive, remember? It's just a machine, a bunch of parts put together to make a mechanism," Becky answered, knowing most of this would go over Nanu's head. "I control its speed with the pedals at my feet, and which way it goes with this wheel in my hand." "Can we go faster and leave all these other beasts behind?" Becky smiled. "Not right now, my love. There are laws about how fast you're allowed to go when there are lots of other cars around. It prevents accidents." "But what could hurt us?" Nanu asked. "The beast is metal, we are surrounded by all this metal. We are invincible." "If we hit or got hit by another car, the metal won't protect us entirely," Becky pointed out, thinking that maybe she'd show Nanu some car crash safety videos, put the fear of the car gods into her. And if we hit a person, we'd pretty much kill them at this speed." Nanu thought about that. "But we'd be okay, right?" Becky sighed and resisted the urge to turn the car around. The Malted Cat, thirty minutes later. "Hi, everyone, sorry we're late," Becky called out, waving as she headed to the table where everyone was already gathered. "You know this time of night on the Gardiner, traffic was a bitch." "Bitch;” Nanu parroted, but was too far away still for anyone to hear her aside from Becky. Nanu was looking around at the establishment, which didn't remind her of any tabernus she'd ever seen before. This was loud and chaotic, with people everywhere and what might have been music blaring. People were wearing so many different outfits, some of which were almost nonexistent to Nanu. They walked up to the table, where five other people, three women, and two men, were already sitting. A few of them had the same straw-colored hair as her mistress. Two of the women were skinny, one was rather fat. One of the men was skinny and balding. She doubted he got fucked very often. Becky stopped at the table, with Nanu beside her. "Everyone, this is Nanu, she's staying with me." "Hi," Nanu said, holding up a hand and remembering the greeting word that people used in En-gush. "Hi." "Hello," they all said back pleasantly, smiling at her. She liked the fact that they greeted her and hadn't noticed she was a slave. Or at least, had been. Sometimes she worried it clung to her like a stench she would never be rid of. At least they'd brought her manumission documents with them from Rome to this world of tomorrow, just in case she had to prove it. "Nanu, let me introduce my friends and co-workers," Becky said in Latin, before pointing to people. "This is Kay, that's Shirley, this is Annie, that's Steve, and this is Ed." "What were you speaking to her just now?" Ed asked, seeming curious. He was the balding one. "Latin," Becky replied as room was made for them at the table, with Steve pulling up two more chairs. "She doesn't speak English, and I don't speak her native language, so we communicate in Latin." Becky's friends all looked at one another quizzically, but then realized that none of them spoke Latin. Becky would be interpreting all night. Frankly, that was just fine with Becky, since it allowed her to control things where Nanu was concerned. "Nanu-nanu!" Steve said to the new guest, holding his hand out sideways, fingers splayed apart in twos. Nanu seemed confused before she spread her own fingers tentatively and then slid them into Steve's, who grinned and began shaking up and down gently. "Good to meet you!" "Steve, I'm not drunk enough for Mork and Mindy jokes yet," Becky sighed, settling Nanu in a chair while the smaller girl looked at her hand curiously, still held open the way he'd shown her. What was that supposed to mean? Was it one of the standard greetings of this age? Then she started noticing small details, both of her new associates, and around the place. Her eyes widened when she saw a tattoo on the arm of the fat woman, Shir-lee. Then she noticed one on Steve. She looked around and saw that many people around this club had tattoos. She looked at Becky with concern. "So many people," she said quietly, hoping only Becky heard her. "They have stigma (tattoos). Some of your friends have them! Are we surrounded by criminals?" Becky thought about that for a moment and then shook her head. "No, Nanu. In my world, tattoos are just art. There have been times in the past where criminals or people considered undesirable have been branded, but this isn't a thing anymore. People wear tattoos because they mean something to them, or they're just art." Nanu sighed in relief. "I somehow avoided getting a tattoo or branded as a Flavian slave, I was lucky. Most of the other slaves had them, I found it humiliating." "Is she okay, Becks?" Annie asked curiously. "She looks a little spooked." Becky smiled and nodded. "The tattoos all around her freaked her out. Where she comes from, tattoos are brands on slaves or criminals and law-abiding citizens don't get them." "Well, I like to think I'm a bad girl," Shirley said in a sassy tone and wearing a wicked smile. "And I've got another tattoo in another place that'd prove it, for sure." This drew laughter from her friends, and she rolled onto one cheek subtly and patted the other one. Annie popped Shirley on the ass, making her squeak and more there was laughter around the table. "So, Nanu," Kay began, smiling across the table at her. Becky was on one side of Nanu, and Ed was on the other. Nanu almost needed a booster chair to sit at the table. Thankfully, the bouncer at the door had accepted her identification, even if he seemed skeptical at first. No doubt having Becky there helped. "Do you want a beer, honey?" Nanu knew she was being asked a question and looked at Becky, who translated. "Cervisia. Do you want one?" Nanu wrinkled her nose in distaste. "That is a barbarian's drink! I am civilized." "You thought cow's meat was barbaric until the other day too," Becky pointed out. "Now I can't keep you out of it. Your ancestors made beer before they discovered wine, you know. At least try it, it's polite. Do you remember what I told you about how to respond if someone offers you something?" Nanu looked at Kay and spoke slowly. "Please an-du fank you." Kay looked delighted and ordered beers for Nanu and Becky. The Egyptian girl settled in and just listened quietly while the conversation picked up around her. Becky had told her that she was free to simply listen, or look around the bar. If someone addressed Nanu, Becky would tell her. Nanu was more than happy to just sit quietly and observe. Beer arrived, with a tall pint glass for Becky, and a half-pint for Nanu. She frowned at her smaller glass. "Why did I get the child drink?" Becky almost laughed while Nanu seemed to glare at the golden liquid and the tiny bubbles. "First of all, children aren't allowed to drink beer because of the alcohol. Second, I got you a smaller glass in case you don't like it. Less goes to waste." Nanu glanced at Becky now. "So if I don't like it, I don't just smash the glass on the floor and demand a different drink I like?" Becky blinked. "No, darling. We are very respectful to our servers at all times." "But they are nobody." "Nanu, just; trust me on this, okay?" Becky almost pleaded. "Always be polite, always. When it time to not be polite, I'll let you know, I promise." "Fine," Nanu sighed, picking up the glass with both hands and tilting it so that she could take a sip while everyone watched. Her eyes widened and she put the glass back down on the table, her cheeks bulging as she looked at Becky in panic. "Swallow," Becky instructed. "It's fine." Hesitantly, the tiny girl swallowed and then gasped rather loudly and dramatically. "It is so cold, but it burns!" "You didn't mind when the pop was fizzing in your mouth," Becky said. "The pop was sweet. This is; why is this beer? It doesn't taste like beer at all!" "It's beer, I promise you, just that we make it differently than they did in your time." "Is she okay?" Steve asked, watching Nanu curiously. They all were, in fact. "She's never had beer like that before," Becky explained. "She only just tried pop for the first time the other day." "You said she's from Egypt?" Shirley queried. "Is she Muslim and she's not allowed to have alcohol?" "Trust me, she's not Muslim," Becky assured her co-worker while Nanu eyed her beer suspiciously. "She was a slave most of her life, and she has very limited experience with, well, just about anything. We're taking it slow, but I want her to see what her new life is all about and has to offer." "Would she like wine instead?" Kay asked. "No, let her figure this out," Becky replied, going back to her own beer. "I have yet to find anything she won't eat or drink, so give her a bit." Becky knew she'd have to get some food in Nanu before long, because Nanu's alcohol tolerance might be perilously low, especially on what was essentially an empty stomach. She'd let Nanu pick whatever sounded good, and just deal with the consequences later. There was only so easy she could make this for her. Her body needed to adapt to modern cuisine sooner or later, right? The conversation began again, mostly everyone venting about their stupid students and the idiotic things they said, did, or turned in. Every once in a while, someone asked Nanu something, and Becky translated, letting Nanu respond as best she could. But mostly, they simply adhered to Becky's rule of letting the new girl observe and listen. "I swear, this one girl is a complete moron," Annie groused. "Any of you have Angie Staples in any of your classes?" Nanu heard several of them moan and roll their eyes, almost slumping back in their chairs. They began griping about something or someone, repeating a word that sounded like a name. It reminded her of how her mistress complained about M-ark. "Hey, she's not a bigger dolt than Simmons," Becky pointed out. "That boy is hopeless in my class. If he made any less effort, he'd forget to breathe." "At least he's cute," Kay said, making Annie and Shirley laugh. "I'd totally fuck Mark if he was legal." At the mention of the name 'Mark' and the word 'fuck', Nanu perked up just slightly and then looked at Becky. And this was not lost on the other women. "Why did she just look at you when I mentioned fucking Simmons?" Kay asked, looked at Becky now. "I; no; Fischer, no;” "What?" Becky said rather defensively. "Rebecca Fischer, are you doing things with that boy?" Kay pressed, smiling slyly. Annie and Shirley's eyes lit up excitedly, whereas Ed and Steve remained silent, trying to not look put out. "Are you nuts?" Becky said rather more loudly than she should have. "He's my student!" "He's all of our students, and the only thing he's good at is Phys Ed," Annie laughed. "He's turning out to be a hunk, I saw him running track in the gymnasium with no shirt the other day. Kay's right, none of us would blame you if you were getting it in from him." "I assure you, I am not getting it in from that dough-head sitting in my classroom," Becky said firmly. It was technically true, if only because the Mark sitting in her classroom hadn't fucked her yet. "So why did Nanu look at you so suddenly?" Kay pressed, not willing to concede the point just yet. "She's heard me complaining about how abso-fucking-lutely useless he is in my class," Becky explained, which was also technically true. "He's failing harder than a SCUD missile. Makes me crazy." "I'd go crazy on him," Shirley quipped, smiling slyly behind her beer glass while Kay and Annie burst out laughing again. Becky sighed and shook her head, but at least she seemed to have deflected that particular line of inquiry. Despite Kay's contentions in private about her proclivities, most people believed Rebecca Fischer to be a prudish nun stuck in a porn star's body. Only this small crew ever saw her let her hair down, like tonight. Garlic bread, mozzarella sticks, and wings arrived at the table as an appetizer, and Becky encouraged Nanu to try everything. The teachers all watched in astonishment as she tried each of the items and then began devouring them in rapid succession. "Guess I'm buyin' this round of appetizers," Becky said, shaking her head as she watched her charge annihilate the food. "I'll buy the next round too, just to make sure everyone gets something." "Oh, I'm buyin' her a round as well, just to keep watching," Annie said in fascination while Nanu mowed through the appetizers like the Tasmanian Devil. "Do you ever feed her, Becks?" "I told you, she was literally a slave in her old life, and she eats everything in sight as a defensive measure," Becky sighed. "She's not being rude, I promise. I've literally watched her eat a pound of bologna and empty a full jar of peanut butter." "Ba-lo;” Nanu managed to mumble through a mouth full of biomass as she kept storming the appetizers. Everyone was enjoying watching, even if they had to wait for their own shares to arrive again. She also kept sipping at her beer, seeming to have dropped her objections to it. Becky realized she might actually need help from the time stream to keep this girl fed. Nanu had pretty much polished off all her food when the second round of appetizers arrived. She eyed Steve's basket of wings hungrily. He saw her staring and gestured to the steaming heap of saucy poultry. "Want to try one?" "Nanu, darling," Becky said, holding up a hand to interrupt. "You might find that' But Nanu had already stripped most of the meat off the tiny bones of one wing by the time Becky had begun to object. She was chewing away when she paused on her eyes went wide. "Steve, you jerk," Becky said, scowling at her co-worker while Nanu started trembling while still chewing, her face turning red and her eyes starting to water. "She doesn't know what suicide sauce is." Nanu had her forehead pressed against the table and was thumping her little fist against the surface, still resolutely chewing, even as she whimpered and moaned in pain. "Gotta admire her pluck, though," Kay mused, watching the tiny girl try not to writhe. "I didn't know she couldn't handle it," Steve protested. "Don't they have hot food where she comes from?" "See if I ever sub for you the next time you need a day off," grumbled the blonde, patting Nanu on the back gently while calling over a server. Fifteen minutes and a gallon of milk later. "I can't believe she ate all my wings," Steve murmured, watching Nanu polish off the last wing while staring directly at him defiantly. "A whole pound, I got like, one." "Serves you right," Becky grunted, making sure Nanu had lots of wet wipes and used them regularly in case she tried to rub her eyes. Milk wouldn't help then. "I can't believe she's still eating them," Annie said, watching with morbid fascination. "I mean, you can see they still hurt her, but she won't quit." "Now that she knows milk dulls the fire, she doesn't have to," Becky sighed, also watching while eating her own honey-garlic wings. Nanu had stolen half of those, too. The only reason Shirley and Kay's food was (mostly) safe was because Nanu was too short to reach across the table. "And she's mad at Steve, so she's making a point." She knew that she and Nanu could both regret this in a few hours, that Nanu might be up all night again in the bathroom, but apparently she was willing to risk that to get the message across; don't fuck with Nanu Tehemet. Nanu polished off the wings and then knocked back several glasses of milk Becky had lined up for her, followed by her beer. She put the last down and let out a thunderous belch that echoed around the area. Everyone's eyes widened at the noise, except for Becky, who just shook her head. People at other tables looked over, perplexed that someone so small could release such a giant noise. Annie cleared her throat. "Well, I; I hear that in some Middle Eastern cultures, burping is a sign that a person appreciates the food they were served." Nanu patted her chest with her little fist and sighed happily. "Nanu," Shirley said, getting her attention directly. She gestured to her shirt and then at Nanu's. "I like your shirt." Nanu realized what the fat woman was talking about and then beamed happily, thrusting her chest forward and thumbing at the logo. "Let Zeppli!" "Do you like them, honey?" Shirley asked. Becky translated and Nanu nodded eagerly. "Let Zeppli!" "I like them too," Shirley said, pleased to be connecting with the exotic foreign girl. "Shirley says she likes Led Zeppelin too," Becky explained, leaning in to be heard over all the noise. The karaoke had begun, and they were near the stage. "The fat one likes Zeppli?" Nanu asked, shocked. "Is she allowed?" "Nanu!" Becky gasped, bursting into snickers. "You can't just comment about people's weight like that!" "What's funny, Becks?" Annie asked, curious. Becky was still snickering as she tried to wave it off. "Pretty sure Nanu thinks only she's allowed to like Zeppelin. And maybe I'm allowed. Pop culture still eludes her." "Well, she's got the hot wings and big tits part down already, I'd say she's halfway there," Kay quipped, making everyone laugh. Shirley had excused herself from the table for a moment. More food was ordered, along with beer or cocktails, and the gripe session continued about what complete morons the kids of this day and age were becoming. And the ones that weren't morons were completely unlikable. "So how long is she stayin' with you?" Kay asked as she watched Nanu attack the jalapeno poppers. "For the foreseeable future, really," Becky answered. "Like I said, she was a slave back home, she has no life to return to, and it was borderline Stone Age subsistence. I can't just let her go, or turn her over to the system, she'll die. She knows nothing. I'm doing what I can to help her adapt and learn about her new world. One day, she'll be fine." "That's really noble of you, Rebecca," Ed stated, getting his share of an onion blossom before Nanu saw it and murdered it. "But it could be years. I'm not trying to make her sound like a pet dog, but this could be a long commitment on your part. How did you even meet her?" "Honestly?" Becky said, having a rehearsed answer already. She'd tried to anticipate as many questions as possible for tonight. "I met her in Rome. That's where I managed to get her out of her slavery life." "Wow, Becks, you have like a whole secret agent life goin' on," Annie said, sounding impressed. "When the heck did you even go to Rome?" "It seems like ages ago," Becky said rather evasively. "Frankly, things have been crazy of late and I almost can't keep track without a time machine." A round of laughter from her friends, and Becky heaved a sigh of relief. She didn't expect anyone to be making inquiries, but the fewer questions, the better. Nanu seemed oblivious, noshing away happily on more pub grub and seeming determined to try everything. She'd just plowed through the calamari Annie had bought for her. "Hey, everyone!" called a voice from the stage, sounding tinny over a microphone. Becky looked up and saw Shirley standing on stage, smiling at them all. "I'm dedicating this number to a new friend I met tonight, I hope she likes it! Nanu, this one's for you!" Nanu looked up at the mention of her name, right before the music began, blaring through the bar's speakers all around them. Her eyes flashed in excitement as she looked at Becky, grabbing her hands. "Zeppli! Zeppli!!!" she squeaked, bouncing up and down in her seat. "Yes, my love," Becky laughed. "Shirley is about to sing a Zeppelin song for you, and it's the one you know already." Nanu clapped and squealed some more, bouncing up and down in her seat as she watched the fat woman begin to sing. "Let me take you to the movie, Can I take you to the show, Let me be yours ever truly, Can I make your garden grow?" "Nanu, you should go up and dance," Becky suggested, bumping and gyrating in her seat. "I'm sure Shirley would love it." "Really, Mistress?" Nanu gasped, his features alight with eagerness. She'd forgotten to call her Mistress by her name, but nobody seemed to notice. "Just make sure you keep your clothes on, okay?" Becky warned, trying to sound serious, but winking at her lover. "Go have fun." Nanu was out of her seat like a shot and scrambling up onstage before she began to dance around, just like Becky had shown her. Everyone at the table hooted and cheered while Shirley laughed, still between stanzas. While Nanu bounced and wiggled around the stage, the teacher started singing again. The pneumatic effect Nanu's movement had on her body held everyone spellbound. Her jeans were snug enough to show off her amazing ass, and her Zeppelin shirt was stretched tight across her ample tits, which jiggled continuously. "From the Houses of the Holy, We can watch the white doves go, From the door comes Satan's daughter, And it only goes to show, that you know!" Becky laughed gaily as she watched, clapping along. She couldn't believe how well this was going! Nanu was having a blast, and even if she was going to be shitting herself all night because of the hot wings Steve had let her eat, it was a small price to pay to see the Egyptian girl absolutely radiant and doing what she did best, dancing. They'd have to do this more often, as long as she kept Nanu safe. Not that this bar was dangerous, of course. "There's an angel on my shoulder, In my hand a sword of gold, Let me wander in your garden, And the seeds of love I'll sow, you know!" Nanu spun and pranced around the stage, lost in the joy of her dancing. She never felt more alive than when she was dancing, even when she was fucking. Or at least very rarely, and pretty much never when she'd been a slave. This new world and new life were going to teach her so many wonderful new things! She stopped dancing for a moment, breathing heavily in excitement as she just watched Shirley sing, standing close enough to understand that she was singing into some little thing that looked like a black cock and made her voice echo all around the room. "So the world is spinning faster, Are you dizzy when you stall? Let the music be your master, Will you heed the master's ca" In her mounting excitement, Nanu had grabbed the microphone out of Shirley's hands and was now closing her eyes and singing into it with all her heart. "Ah; Wa-Oh-Gur-Oah! Or-Nyu-Wo-Ah!" The entire audience was just watching in confused and then stunned silence as Nanu wailed discordantly into the microphone, assaulting everyone's ears with the blistering noise she was making. Eventually, even the recording of the Zeppelin song was halted, and Nanu was screeching to a silent space. Realizing the music had ended, she opened her eyes and then paused, seeing everyone gaping at her. But then a group at one large table right next to the one she'd been sitting at burst into derisive laughter, jeering and mocking her, apparently imitating the sounds she'd been making, and also flailing their limbs about like they were having seizures. Their faces were screwed up, made to look like the cursed child jesters that the Roman elite kept at their courts and made fun of. They were making fun of her! "Hey, someone get the retard off the stage!" guffawed one man, still mocking her by slapping a limp hand and forearm against his chest and making the stupid face. His buddies howled with laughter as he imitated her sound again. Until he was spun in his chair and Becky's fist slammed across his jaw, snapping his head to the right and knocking him out cold. Everyone at the table went very still, not daring to move as Becky glared at them all, her blue eyes flashing menacingly. "Anyone else?" she challenged. The men all stayed silent, not daring to say a word of move a muscle. "That's what I thought," she growled, standing up now and looking down at them in contempt. "Fucking cowards." She looked over at the door and caught the attention of the bouncer on shift, an imposing guy named Jake. She tilted her head at the idiot she'd just coldcocked, and he nodded, knowing he was about to clear out that table and make them take their unconscious friend home. He'd seen Becky drop guys before, and it was always justified. If she hadn't dealt with them for mocking the screaming girl, he might have. Thankfully, it was seen to. "C'mon, honey," Becky said, walking up to the stage and removing the mic from Nanu's hands, while she just stared at her Mistress, seemingly frozen. "Shirley, take over, will you?" Shirley nodded and got another song going, beginning to sing again while Becky led Nanu back to her seat. Around the bar, things had returned to normal. Nanu still seemed silent and very out of sorts. Becky sat her down and took her hands, smiling at her. "I'm sorry, honey," she said softly, caressing the crestfallen girl's cheek. "What they did was wrong. He deserved to get punched, I promise you." Nanu looked up at her now, perplexed. "Am I; am I that awful to listen to, Mistress?" Becky apparently hesitated a split second too long, because Nanu seemed aghast at the lack of response. "I am terrible! Please, Mistress, tell me! How bad am I? Be honest." A deep breath as Becky composed her thoughts. "Truth, Nanu?" The Egyptian girl nodded nervously. "You; well, it; it sounded like a cat getting run over by a chariot with knives for wheels," Becky confessed, blushing while the other teachers looked on, having a fairly good idea what was happening, even if none of them spoke Latin. She smiled somewhat wanly. "Maybe; just stick to dancing, okay? You're so very good at that, after all;” Nanu slumped back in her chair, seemingly in disbelief, even failing to notice the table right next to them getting cleared out by the bouncer. She stared off into space for some seconds, not even noticing the other Zeppelin song that Shirley was now singing. "I'm terrible," she murmured to herself. "Cats getting murdered sounds better than me singing;” She then blinked and looked at Becky, seemingly her normal self. "Oh well. May I have more food and another beer now?" Becky laughed in relief and nodded. No trauma seemed to affect Nanu for too long. She always had food and fucking to retreat to. She ordered more hot wings, knowing Nanu felt she had even more to prove now. An hour later. "So you seemed like you had a good time, hmm?" Becky mentioned as she drove north on the Gardiner, taking them home. It was quite dark out, and she hoped against hope that Nanu wouldn't be up all night in the bathroom, or that she wanted to stay awake and fuck, because Becky had to work in the morning. "I did, Mistress," Nanu replied, nodding as she sat in her seat. She wasn't turned sideways with her face plastered to the window, watching the world race by. In fact, she was sitting rather placidly, her eyes somewhat unfocused. "And the food was all so good. And I think I'm drunk." Becky smiled. "We'll deal with that when we get home. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Should we do it again?" "Can we?" Nanu gasped in delight, seemingly excited. "Let's do it every night!" "Not every night," laughed the blonde. "I can't afford to go out to eat and drink every night. But if you're good, maybe we'll make a treat of it once a week. There are lots of other places to try as well." "As long as assholes don't make fun of me for singing," Nanu sniffed, determined to not get over being impugned. "I hope they dumped him behind the building and people walking by just put their dicks in his mouth while he was sleeping." Becky smirked. Nanu clearly had a vengeful streak in her. Not that she blamed her, mind. Nanu had to simply watch while Becky meted out the punishment. She doubted Nanu was capable of inflicting any real damage on people who slighted her. "Do you think you can teach me to drive this beast, Mistress?" the tiny woman asked. "That's a long way off, honey," Becky replied. Hell, she doubted Nanu could see over the dashboard and reach the pedals at the same time. "Let's conquer walking properly in running shoes before moving on to wheeled death machines, shall we?" Nanu huffed and crossed her arms, looking put out. "I wouldn't run down THAT many people;” she muttered. Becky's home, half an hour later. They managed to close the front door behind them before they fell to their knees, arms wrapped around one another and kissing hungrily. They moaned as they began removing their clothes, swallowing each other's tongues. Earlier, Becky had hoped to make it through the night without any romantic interludes because she had to work tomorrow, but in the car, Nanu had started being naughty, reaching over and rubbing Becky's crotch or fondling her tits. It also didn't help when she shimmied down her jeans and began fingering her cunt, teasing Becky and nearly causing her to drift off the road more than once. A trucker had cruised by them, looking down at them from his cab. Nanu had lifted her shirt to show off her tits, as well as stroking her nether lips plainly for him to see. He'd honked his horn loudly in approval, despite the late hour. And Becky was obviously hornier than she'd been willing to admit, and she couldn't even blame it on alcohol, since she'd only had two beers and one cosmopolitan. No, she just wanted to fuck, and Nanu

Männerabend Special – Senatsbock 2026 Preview! Dennis, Reinhold und JPG sind heute auf kleiner „Senatsbock Preview Tour“ bei Astra St. Pauli und BlockBräu. Gemeinsam mit Brauer Merlin (Astra) wird die diesjährige Astra-Senatsbock-Version frisch vom Tank gezwickelt. Wir dürfen euch noch nicht verraten was es genau wird, aber Merlin wird in den nächsten Wochen bis zum Anstich […]

The Time Riders: Part 10 Egyptian Acheology, In Real Time. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Mark felt a cold chill, but also was strangely assured that she didn't begin screaming. If anything, she sounded vaguely amused. He didn't come out, but he pushed one of his hands through the linens and waved at her. "Silly," she giggled, still smirking. "You might as well come out, because all I have to do is scream if I want help. I'm not afraid of anyone stupid enough to break into the personal chambers of a devotee of the goddess." Mark took a deep breath and walked out from beneath the linens, stopping and looking down at her, blushing at getting caught. She looked up him curiously, although she was still clearly amused, and made no attempt to cover her nudity. "You're a slave," she remarked, noting his attire. "What compelled you to hide in my room?" What was the point in lying? "I was hoping to fuck a Vestal," he confessed, shrugging and turning his palms to her in a gesture of honesty. "That's the simple truth." She raised an eyebrow. "That's brazen of you. You know we're all virgins on purpose, right? We took a sacred vow." Mark shrugged again. "Everyone has needs and urges, even sacred virgins." Aemelia giggled. "I suppose that's true. But why would; excuse me, I don't know your name, slave." "Bonosus." "Well, then, Bonosus," she intoned, setting her arm on the edge of the basin and then resting her head against two fingers while she observed him, more than a little intrigued. "What makes you think a sacred virgin of mighty Rome would want to fuck a slave, if she were indeed subject to such base desires as you describe?" "Well, you wouldn't need to take a vow if you weren't subject to them, would you?" he reasoned. "And as to why;” He slowly slipped off his ragged tunic, leaving him naked. Aemelia's eyes widened slightly as his cock came into view. "Woof," she muttered to herself as she fixated on his limp cock. "Your father, is he Bacchus, or a satyr? Because only a god or a creature of sin should be lavished with a prong like that." "Interested?" he asked, smirking back at her. "Because if you're not, maybe Marcia or Licinia would be willing to make use of me if you're not' "Hold on, now," the blonde interrupted in a quiet but calm voice, holding up her hand. "I didn't say that. All I asked was what you had to offer that a sacred virgin would be willing to compromise her vows for. And that thing makes up for a lot of sacred vows;” She rose slowly, the water cascading down her body. Not surprisingly, as a sacred virgin, her cunt was unshaved, but her wet hairs were rather light and sparse, the same color as her honey hair. "Um, you're eighteen, right?" Mark asked, wondering for a moment. Aemelia gave him a wry look, her hands moving up to her tits. "I am. A little more, in fact. Is that a problem? Am I too old for you to want to fuck me?" "No, I'm perfectly okay with you being eighteen," he assured her. "Kinda counting on it, in fact." "Well, that is good to hear," she said, allowing her hands to fall away from her tits and exposing herself again. She seemed strangely shameless, which was no doubt quite a trick to hide in these environs. "It'd be one thing for me to reject you, but it would be unthinkable for me to be rejected by a mere slave. And if you were indeed intent on someone younger, I would have to summon Lucia or Domi' "Nope, I'm intent on you, if you're willing," Mark said firmly, smiling as she watched his cock swelling slowly. He wasn't getting hard, but he was getting aroused, and it had the desired effect on his potential partner. Aemelia bit her lip as she watched his cock grow. "Normally, I just pleasure myself in the bathing basin, since it is easy to hide," she said as she stepped out of the water and walked over toward the linens he was standing in front of, drawing close to him and smiling rather saucily. "But to be fucked in the bathing basin would create too much noise, I fear. No, base slave, if you intend to have your way with me, it must be quick and dirty, and allow me to conceal any evidence after. You do not want to know what happens to a sacred virgin who has broken her vows of chastity." "I can only imagine," Mark said as he took one of the linens hanging on a peg and knelt down on one knee, beginning to dry her off. She seemed amused by his attentiveness, and put one foot on his thigh, allowing him to continue. "So, what, I should probably fuck you somewhere in here, since it's farthest from the door and least chance to be heard, right?" Aemelia nodded and pointed at the bed. "But you cannot have me on my bed either, slave, as there will be evidence of my activities. No, I fear you will simply have to push me up against a wall and fuck me, like a common whore." "Probably all we have time for," he pointed out, leering as he stood, towering over her and pulling her body to his and beginning to fondle her. She closed her eyes and sighed as he groped her tit and ran his other hand down her back to caress her ass. "Uh, my first man," she whispered, not at all flinching from his touch. If anything, she parted her legs slightly, which she reached down to stroke his hardening cock with one hand. "Not only breaking my vows to my goddess, but the sheer indignity of losing my chastity to a lowly slave;” He could tell she was getting really turned on. His hand found her cunt and he slipped two fingers inside, making Aemelia moan. She was already very wet, and he couldn't find a hymen, so he would have no problem fucking her. "You are feeling around; for my chastity," she breathed, opening her hazel eyes and looking up at him while he fingered her. "It was broken many years ago, while I was riding atop of a horse to a ceremony. It was determined to be an accident, and not a symbol of the goddess' disfavor, so I was permitted to continue serving her. Now, my chaste cunt will serve you, slave. You may fuck me. But first;” She pulled away from him and went over to the far wall, then took hold of a small wooden peg and tapped on the wall three times in a certain rhythm, then three more. She put the peg down and then walked back to him, her eyes glinting with excitement. "You may fuck me against the wall right there, slave;” she whispered breathily, clearly getting eager. She stopped in front of him and waited for something. Then he heard three faint taps in a certain rhythm, which seemed to come from the wall she'd just tapped on. Without any further hesitation, she led him over to the wall she'd indicated and bent forward, exposing her ass to him while steadying herself against the wall. Mark didn't wait, but simply placed his hands on her ass cheeks while standing behind her. He teased his hard cock against her wet twat before sliding the head inside. He felt her stiffen, her back arching, and then she was murmuring to herself. "I am disgraced; I am disgraced;” Mark smiled evilly and pushed deep inside her with one long, slow stroke. Aemelia shuddered and choked, fighting the urge to cry out as he violated her. She hissed as he bottomed out in her, pushing back on her hands to take him in further. She was silent now, just trembling as she felt his cock pinning her to him. Mark then began to stroke back and forth slowly, letting her adjust to the sensation. She was indeed tight, and he was inclined to believe her claim that she was still a virgin, even if she had no hymen. "Bonosus;” she said in a quiet voice somewhere between a gasp and a whisper. She pushed back against him again, starting to grind her ass in circles, reveling in the sensation of a man deep inside her, committing such an extreme blasphemy against Mother Rome. The two were thinking the same thing: Fuck Mother Rome. Mark started moving faster, knowing they didn't have a lot of time. His hips began smacking against her ass, and he watched as his cock glistened, sliding back and forth in her slippery cunt. "Uh, less noise, less noise!" she rasped, waving almost frantically with one hand, her eyes squeezed shut. "Do you want us to both be executed?" Mark kept pumping back and forth strongly, but refrained from slamming against her. He was still more than deep enough to send her into convulsions, though, and the priestess hissed lustily, looking back at him with glazed hazel eyes. "Make me cum," she panted, working herself against him rather inexpertly, but with amazing enthusiasm. "Disgrace my body, my temple, with your cum, slave!" Mark moved faster, and felt her cunt rippling and contracting around him greedily, indicating she was not far off from orgasm. His hands pulled her ass cheeks apart, stretching her and she bit her knuckle and keened. Covered in sweat, her arm flashed out to the side, pointing at the linens hanging next to them. "A linen!" she gasped, her breath catching in her throat. "Give me a linen before I scream!" Mark reached out and grabbed one of the long linen swaths off a peg and handed it to Aemelia, who hastily shoved as much as she could into her mouth, right before her body contorted and was wracked by orgasm. She screamed in ecstasy, the linen muffling the otherwise piercing sound magnificently. Her cunt clutched his cock fiendishly, and Mark stifled a loud groan as he began to cum deep inside her. They ground and squirmed against one another heatedly as he filled her with his pearly essence, and he could feel her cum slathering his thighs. Finally, she sagged, leaning against the wall to keep herself up while removing the linen from her mouth so she could breathe heavily. Some moments later, she eased herself forward, off his throbbing cock, gasping as it popped out of her. She turned around, leaning back against the wall and pulled Mark to her, pressing her mouth against his and kissing him deeply. She may have been a virgin, but she certainly knew how to kiss. Then again, if it was just her and a few other young women living here, that was probably to be expected. "This, slave," she whispered breathily, looking up into his eyes while she reached down and massaged his sticky, still oozing cock. "This has now been in the most sacred of cunts, a sacred temple, defiled by your base desires. Do you know what an honor you've had?" "I can guess," Mark replied, using his body to pin her to the wall and pushing back inside her again. Aemelia shuddered and groaned, going up on her toes and clasping him. "You glad I defiled your temple?" "Yes, but we need to get you out of here," she managed to say, gently pushing him back so that he fell out of her. She knelt and kissed his cock while picking up the linen she'd stuffed into her mouth, and cleaned him off with it. She then hurried over to the pegs on another wall and slipped on a simple white robe, tying it shut. She was flushed, but obviously jubilant. She helped him get back into his slave tunic. "Well, I can strike that off my bucket list," Mark mused to himself in English, smirking. "What did you say?" Aemelia asked, looking up at him as she tied the cord around his waist. "Oh, I was just thinking that at least I can count on you to not brag about this," he said somewhat hastily. "Probably not many people you wanna tell." "True, there's really only Licinia and Marcia I would tell, because they are like-minded to myself. I would tell Domitia, since I suspect she has at least as licentious a heart as any of us, but dare not, because she is impulsive, and not prone to subtlety." "No shit;” Mark muttered as she finished helping him dress. "So now what? How do we get me out of here?" "There's a secret passage you can use at the end of this hallway. It'll take you down to the basement level again, and out though a garden. Be vigilant, but you should be safe. Take a sack of supplies out into the streets, so that it looks like you're on an errand. It'll help you avoid scrutiny." She led him through her apartment and opened the door to poke her head out into the hall, looking both ways. She then took his hand and pulled him out, hurrying down to the end of the hall and then pointing at a large plaster lavabo that dominated the wall. He used his fingers to pry it open like a door, which led into a dark stairwell. He was about to step into the stairwell when she took him by the hem of his tunic and pulled him back to her, kissing him deeply and passionately for several seconds before pushing him back through the aperture and then closing the door behind him. Aemelia leaned back against the ornate plaster lavabo and sighed, looking at the ceiling. She laid and hand on her tit, stood up, straightened her robe out, and then walked down the hall, attempting to look dignified. Thankfully, servants and the priestess' minders rarely came to this floor except at designated hours. She stopped in front of the door of the apartment next to hers, which had a plaque that red 'Licinia' and rapped on the door softly. The door opened and she was pulled inside by her wrist. The door had barely closed before she and another, younger priestess were kissing one another feverishly, hands wandering over each other's bodies. "Thank you for letting me watch," Licinia murmured as her tongue tangled with Aemelia's. "I am so jealous that you got to fuck first, even if it was just a slave. But what a cock he had on him." "I know, and it was everything we had hoped it would be, sister," Aemelia breathed, breaking the kiss and pulling her sister-priestess' bedchamber robe off. "If only it could have lasted longer. But for now;” She shed her own robe and leaned back against the wall, tilting her hips forward and using two fingers to spread her thick cuntlips wide. "You need to suck his cum out of my cunt while you can;” Mark's back was getting slightly sore from carting around sacks in order to get places without being stopped and questioned. He humped several cords of wood into the rear entrance of the Trajan Baths, sighing heavily as he dumped them down near other piles meant to heat the pools, and then went in search of Becky and Nanu. He heard them before he saw them, not surprisingly; he followed the telltale noises toward a smaller, more private bath chamber away from the main rooms. He paused in the door of the room, grinning and leaning against the entranceway while he just watched. In the shallow water, Becky and Nanu were sitting facing into one another, legs scissored and pussies pressed together. They panted and moaned as they slithered and ground against each other, resting back on one hand in the cool water, and gripping each other's arms with the second. They strained against one another, backs arching and their behinds out of the water, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched. They both keened loudly before the dam broke. Sighing and moaning shamelessly, they squirmed and writhed, bathing each other's cunt in frothy cum. They girl-fucked one another hard, cumming for a long period before finally relaxing and settling into a squishy embrace, tits and pussies pressed together as they kissed lovingly. Mark finally came into the room, noticing that two young attendants were waiting in corners, linens ready. He shed his tunic and stepped down into the shallow pool, joining them. Becky broke the kiss to smile at him lewdly. "Well, hey, handsome," she purred, reaching over to stroke his cock, noticing it was recently used. "What did you get up to while Nanu and I were enjoying ourselves?" He was kneeling next to them, rotating his neck. "Might've used our loop to get revenge on the city for trying to kill me next week," he mentioned. "Found a certain temple, might've fucked a priestess;” Becky shook her head. "I swear, you're terrible at time theory, unless it involves doing something heinous, Mark. You are a menace." "Yeah, but you love it," he pointed out, grinning and reaching into caress one of her tits, his other hand fondling Nanu's. "Admit it." "I admit to nothing, young man," she purred, loving how his hand felt on her while she continued to stroke his cock. "Nanu asked if we could visit her family, see if they're okay. She hasn't seen them for a decade now." "I'm all right with that," Mark answered, shrugging. "We should give 'em money, too, improve their lot in life. Sounds like Egyptian peasants in the Roman era don't have a lot goin' for 'em." Becky smiled slyly. "Now that you mention it;” Akhmim, in a corner of the former Lower Kingdom. It was the time of year where the mighty Iteru was to have overflowed its banks and then receded, leaving the land gloriously fertile, and ready for the people to grow their crops and sell their goods to the merchants in the cities. But this year, the great god Hap'i had withheld his bounty, and the river had barely breached its banks. The land was dry, and crops scarce. People had been bringing muddy water from the edges of the river in buckets in a desperate attempt to fertilize their fields. Kiya sighed glumly as she tilled a shallow trench in the woefully dry soil on their farm. A wind blew across the field, and she was depressed to see that it carried reddish dust with it. She was the youngest remaining child, and she did the least skilled work as a result. She despaired of ever being married, since her parents could not afford to lose her. Years ago, they had sold their youngest daughter, in the hopes of getting enough money to improve the farm, with new tools and maybe some irrigation equipment, but they'd been had, and the materials and tools they'd bought were junk. It had cost them all the money they'd made in selling their child, and now they had less than ever. They barely subsisted even in the bountiful years, and during droughts like this, it could be deadly. Other farms were empty, due to death or abandonment. She stopped for a moment and leaned on the rickety hoe she was using, squeezing her eyes shut and stifling a sob. She missed her little sister. Yes, Nanu had only been a year younger than her, but she'd been a joy in Kiya's young life, and they were very close to one another. Kiya loved little Nanu, and then one day, she was gone. As she opened her eyes and looked out over the dusty field at the long, thin rows of trenches, she wondered if Hap'i was punishing them for selling her little sister. Kiya wouldn't have blamed the god; she remembered being angry too, and she hadn't talked to her parents for days. Her older siblings, especially Aneksi and Joba, her eldest sister and brother, had loudly declared that it was a good thing to do, since it was one less mouth to feed, and Nanu had been useless for chores anyway. She was six years old when we sold her! Kiya thought angrily to herself as she glared at the barren field. What did you think she was going to be able to do? She heard a horn call and looked down at the distant river dully; she could see an ornate boat sailing downstream, being punted by dark-skinned Nubian slaves, the huffer standing at the bow waving for less important ships to move aside. Nobles, she grumbled to herself sourly. Probably on their way to Memphis to eat splendid food, and meet with their Roman friends. Splendid food. She'd almost forgotten what anything other than bread or little bits of fish tasted like. And the drought made even bread scarce, while fish were dangerous to try to catch, because of the hippos and crocodiles that crowded the river. In years like this, the crocodile demons were especially aggressive. Movement caught her eye, and she saw a palanquin coming up the banks on the small, dusty road. It wasn't even a road, really, so much as a failed ditch that had been meant for irrigation of the nearby farms. Slaves carried the palanquin on their shoulders, and diaphanous curtains concealed who sat within. A tall, light-skinned slave walking with a tall stick led the way. Just behind him came a woman riding a mule, a cloak wrapped around her upper body to protect her from the dusty wind. They seemed to be coming this way. Why are they headed this way? Kiya wondered with a frown. What could they possibly want here in dusty little Akhmim? She stood up and began walking toward the palanquin as it drew closer, her hoe held casually in her right hand: unthreatening, but ready in case their intentions were malign. She could see now that the male slave leading the way was rugged and handsome, with brown hair and deep eyes. Behind him, she woman on the horse, whom she assumed was still a slave, seemed rather pretty beneath her swathes of dark grey linen and fabrics. Were her eyes; blue? She glanced over at her ramshackle house that she, her siblings, her parents and grandparents lived in. No one else seemed to have noticed yet, or were too far away to see. Clearly this would be up to Kiya for now. So how should she react? She played it safe and got down on both knees, bowing her head and looking at the reddish-brown ground beneath her. It was hot on her knees. She hoped this wouldn't take long, for she had to get back to the trenches, so that the other could pour their meagre water and begin to plant seeds. Kiya waited quietly. "I always did like seeing you on your knees, Ki;” she heard a sweet, girly voice say. Her head flicked up and she looked at the source of the voice; she could see a beautiful face leaning out between the curtains of the palanquin and smirking at her. Kiya's eyes widened and her jaw opened as the young woman slid down out of the palanquin and began walking toward her. She was wearing shimmering white clothes that hugged her lovely figure, and her hazel eyes danced in excitement. She was wearing gleaming gold jewelry, adorned with lapis and other gems. She was radiant, like a goddess. "N; Nanu?" Kiya asked in a tiny, incredulous voice. The vision of her long-lost sister nodded, still smiling. "NANU!!!" shrieked the older girl, dropping the hoe and launching herself forward into a crushing hug with her sister. She'd burst into tears by the time she reached Nanu, and the younger sister was crying as well while they embraced. Mark and Becky looked on, smiling as the sisters were reunited, crying together. True, Nanu's sister (the one named Kiya, they assumed) was getting dust all over Nanu's immaculate clothing, but it didn't matter. There were plenty of new outfits for her anyway. Kiya began planting tear-wet kisses all over Nanu's face, almost as if they were a method of making sure she was real. The weeping Nanu returned the kisses. Mark's head began tilting slowly on an angle as he watched, because the kisses were becoming slower, and seemingly more meaningful and; affectionate. "Well, now;” Becky said as she watched intently. "Hello, ancient Egypt." Nanu and Kiya were now absorbed in a very deep kiss, holding one another tight. Mark could see their tongues rolling around the insides of their cheeks. The whimpers of crying had given way to muffled moans while their hands wandered up each other's backs and came to rest on their ass cheeks. Still they kissed one another almost hungrily. Mark leaned in closer to Becky and whispered to her. "I get the feeling they really missed each other." The sisters finally broke the kiss, more for needing oxygen than any other consideration. They pressed their foreheads together, panting heavily as they stared into one another's eyes. Their lips were still glistening from the kiss they'd shared. Nearly a minute had passed before Kiya pulled her head back and looked at her little sister in renewed wonderment. "Nanu;” she managed to say. "How; what are you;” "Do you like it?" chimed Nanu, stepping back just far enough to do a twirl and display her raiment. The gold she wore on her neck, arms and ankles tinkled almost musically. "I have lots more." "We; mom and dad sold you;” Kiya said, still gaping. "They; they sold you as a slave. What miracle of the gods is this?" "Oh, the best kind," the younger girl quipped, giggling. "But I don't wanna explain this ten times, so why don't you get everyone over here? I'll have my slaves set up a shelter for us all to sit under." Kiya will still bordering on confused, but she nodded and turned to race back toward the hut, calling out loudly for people. Nanu watched her for a few moments before turning to look at Mark and Becky and smiling. "You two sure missed each other," Mark observed, grinning, while Becky fanned herself. Nanu gave Mark a snarky look and stuck out her tongue. "We were best friends, Kiya and I, we only had each other, really. And then I was gone for ten years. Is it really so surprising that we can pick up where we left off?" "Nah, just some culture shock is all," Mark chuckled as he laid down the packs he was carrying and then began unslinging others from the side of the mule Becky sat on, and the palanquin. "Shall I set up the shelter, your majesty?" Nanu giggled. "I could get used to that. Please!" The porters placed the palanquin on the ground, and began helping Mark set up the shelter. Along with their pay, they'd been promised good food and wine, so they were more than willing to put in great effort. Mere minutes had passed before a shelter was set up on sturdy poles, with curtains that could be fastened to the sides to keep out the dust and wind. Nanu crawled back inside the palanquin while Becky waited just outside. Before long, a group of people was approaching, being led by an eager Kiya. She kept badgering everyone to hurry up, and several seemed more than a little annoyed at her harrying them. They were of various ages, and all dressed similarly to Kiya, in the common wear of Egypt's teeming peasantry. Becky glanced subtly to the side, to look at Nanu. The young Egyptian woman was staring at the approaching throng, her eyes glassy, and she bit her lip to keep from crying. She didn't want to be crying when her family saw her again. Becky drew the curtains closed to give her some time to compose herself. She then stood and waited patiently while everyone approached. They were a rough lot, clearly hardened by a life of toil on one of the endless farms that lined the Nile. There were young men and women, some children who belonged to what she assumed were couples, and some elders laboring to bring up the rear. The crowd stopped near the shelter, and looked at the visitors silently. Becky nodded to them all said then spoke in a clear voice. "Do any of you speak the tongue of Rome?" Silence and blank stares greeted her. Unimpressed, she turned and called back. "Mark, none of them speak Latin, I need you." "Not the last time I'll ever hear you say that," he chuckled as he joined her. She gave him a sour look and swatted his arm. He ignored the assault and called out to everyone. "Has Kiya told you what we're doing here?" Many of the people shook their heads, but still didn't say anything. Mark gave Becky a sidelong glance, and the blonde woman went back to the palanquin, knelt, and pulled aside the curtain. She helped an elegant woman in white out of the vehicle, and she walked forward, holding a gauzy white veil over her head to conceal her features. She approached the group, and an older man finally pushed to the front and addressed her humbly. "How can this humble family serve you, mistress?" he asked. Nanu now pulled the veil over her head, letting them take a good look at her. Kiya looked like she was almost ready to burst. Several faces remained blank for quite some time, but others began to express shock as recognition set in. "Nanu?" asked the man in a quavering voice. "Yeah, it's me, dad," she said, her eyes shining again. "I'm home for a visit." "NANU!" an older woman blurted as she forced her way through the crowd and dashed forward. Nanu quit trying not to cry as she embraced her mother for the first time in more than a decade. Becky pressed her fingers to her lips as she watched and tried not to tear up. Mark just grinned. "Mommy," Nanu choked as she held the other woman tight. "I've missed you so much!" "How is this possible?" her father asked, sinking to his knees. "We; I had to sell you, to those Romans, in order to make enough money to' "The Flavians in Clysma, yes," Nanu affirmed, looking over her mother's shoulder and nodding while the elder woman wept. "And they sent me to Rome, once they discovered I could dance." "You always were a good little dancer!" Kiya gushed, almost bouncing up and down on the spot. Many of the other members of the family were drawing closer now, still gazing in wonder. Her father seemed to be going pale and trembling, though. "Are; are you sent back as a glorious spirit, to punish me for selling my beautiful daughter? Have mercy on me, I' "Dad, stop being so dramatic," Nanu almost complained as she let go of her mother and walked toward him. She hauled him to his feet and placed her tiny hands in his, letting him feel them. "See? I'm still flesh and blood, not a stupid spirit. I'm not a Flavian slave anymore, either. I'm wealthy and I have my own slaves." They all looked at Mark and Becky now. Becky pulled down the fabric around her head, and many of them gasped as her golden blonde hair and sea-blue eyes came into full view. They'd never seen anyone like her before. These were Nanu's slaves? Her father shook his head slowly. "I still do not understand. How did this happen?" "Who cares?" someone groused from the back of the crowd in a gruff, male voice. Nanu knew it right away, and looked up sourly. The crowd parted to let the speaker come forward. It was her eldest brother, Bata, and he was the second eldest of the siblings after Meritites, Nanu's big sister. He'd always been something of a bully toward her. More than something, actually. Nanu and Kiya both had unpleasant memories of the older boy. "We sold you for money, and what good did it do us?" the young man sneered, moving forward now. Nanu took half a step back, clearly intimidated. "The tools we bought were shit, and we're struggling harder than ever. You can't even be sold without fucking things up for your fa' Mark had lunged in and slammed his fist across Bata's jaw, sending him spinning to the ground. Everyone except Becky gasped, and one sister cried out in fright. Mark stood over the downed boy, glowering at him. Bata was holding his jaw, his eyes wide in shock. He could taste blood. "Got anything else to say about my mistress, shitbag?" Mark challenged. Bata glared at Mark before his gaze flicked over to the axe he'd dropped when he got punched. "Oh, please try that, I dare you,", Mark growled, unmoved by the perceived threat. "I'll shove that axe handle so far up your ass that you'll have splinters in your tongue for a month." Bata looked away, unable to endure Mark's glare. The younger man stepped back and let Nanu's brother get to his feet. Bata grabbed a woman by the wrist and stomped off, dragging her behind. Several of Nanu's siblings sighed and were visibly relieved. Mark then stepped back and let Nanu take over again. The Egyptian girl, still a little rattled, took a deep breath, composing herself. She then spoke to her family again. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd never see you again. I thought I'd die, far from home, never to return. I; I want to make sure that mom and dad never have to do anything like that again for our family's survival." Nanu brought her mother back to the family and helped her father stand. They were murmuring to one another and hugged, while people began crying. Several men and women watched on, some passively, some with curiosity. Mark assumed these were spouses who had married into the family since Nanu's departure some ten years ago. Nanu was hugging her oldest sister, Meritites, and sharing kisses with her, although not quite as affectionate as those she'd shared with Kiya. She then hugged and kissed her other siblings; Djoser, Ameny, Khafra, Nefer, Tiaa, Horemheb, Jobra, Anpu, and Senet. Jeebus, Becky thought, trying not to frown as she looked at the mother, whose name was apparently Pypuy. Twelve kids? How did her uterus not just fall right out? Nanu's father, Akhom, still seemed overwhelmed, but maybe that was understandable. He had, after all, clearly made an agonizing decision and it seemed to be revisiting him, even if the circumstances were joyous for everyone else. Nanu had explained to Mark and Becky that selling children into slavery in order for a poor family to survive was not uncommon in Egypt, but clearly it was still painful for all involved. Finally, the greetings ended, and Nanu, with her eyes still glistening, smiled at her family. "Let's eat, I brought lots of food." The shelter Mark and the slaves had erected was large enough to conceal everyone from the sun. They ate bread, figs, fish, and wine. Kiya excused herself and ran back to the house. Even Nanu's father seemed to have adjusted and was now enjoying himself. More than anything, though, there were endless questions. "I got lucky," Nanu said simply. "I know it seems impossible, but look at me. What more proof do you need? I am wealthy now, and not a slave. I came home to let you know, and also to give you money, so that you no longer need to struggle. You will live very comfortably. You could probably even retire from the farm and move into a town or city if you wanted to." "You're not coming with us?" her sister Tiaa asked, looking rather upset. "We just got you back, and you've been gone so long." Nanu looked down at the ground, going silent, wondering what to say. She felt very torn. Here she was, back with the family she'd missed her entire life, and giving them money, but beyond that, she had nothing to back it up; Mistress Aurora and Bonosus, or whatever their real names happened to be, were not her slaves. She had no talents that made her a patrician. She could barely read. She'd come here, so secure in her plan to see her family, alleviate any suffering they were enduring, and then go off on this grand adventure with her new beloved associates. They'd even told her she might be able to see her family again. But now, in this dingy but so comforting environment. She looked up and saw Kiya approaching again, carrying something in her arms. Everyone let her through, and she knelt next to Nanu, smiling. Nanu's eyes went wide. Kiya gently passed her the baby. It couldn't have been more than a year old. "Her name is Nanu," Kiya said softly, her brown eyes shining. "Named after the little sister I thought I'd lost forever." Nanu looked up and her eyes were glassy with wonder. "Who is her father?" Kiya smiled sadly. "The river took him earlier this year, during Akhet. I'm sorry you never met him." "She's beautiful," Nanu murmured, caressing the tiny cheek with her thumb, and feeling her heart thrum in her chest. "So beautiful." "There's all the time in the world now, for you to raise her and love her," her sister said, putting a hand on Nanu's arm. "I know you'll love her as much as I do. We can raise her together, just like we always talked about when we were younger. And I; what's wrong, Nanu?" Tears were now streaming down the younger girl's face as she tried to keep from bursting out crying. Becky found herself trying not to cry as well, even if she didn't understand the language. "I'm; I'm sorry, Kiya," she managed to say, while her sister's eyes teared up, knowing what was coming. "I can't stay, I now have a different life I must get back to. And it's not here in Akhmim, or even Keme itself." "I understand," Kiya rasped, her eyes red as she tried to hold it together. She loved Nanu so much. "Can't take us with you?" "No, I can't," Nanu said sadly, shaking her head slowly as she squeezed her eyes shut, crystalline tears falling onto the linen the baby in her arms was wrapped in. "I don't know how that would work." "Will we ever see you again?" her sister Ameny almost pleaded. "I want to say yes," Nanu replied, her eyes still closed. "But even visiting now was very difficult to arrange. But I promise you, I will try. And if I ever find a way to take you all away from here, then I will. And we'll all live in splendor together forever." Most of the girls were crying at this point, and even a few of her brothers were sniffling. Her mother and father just knelt quietly, looking very forlorn and lost. Nanu handed the baby back to Kiya and hugged her parents tight. "But even if I can't be here, I'm still looking after you, like I promised," she said in an earnest tone. She glanced over at Mark, who nodded and rose, using two of the porters to unfasten sacks from the mule and also the palanquin. When he brought them over, he laid them in front of Nanu, who opened them to display the contents. Her family members gaped in awe. More gold coins than they could have imagined glittered within. "You'll need to be quiet for some time about where it all came from, and not just spread it around, but this'll give even my niece's great-grandchildren a very comfy life if you're not stupid with it," she announced, running her hands through the coinage so they could hear the sound of it. "Like I said, you could become the wealthiest farmers in the region, or become traders in a nearby city. As long as you look after one another, always. Even Bata." "Don't worry about Bata, sis," grunted the second eldest brother, Anpu, looking at Meritites and smiling. She reached over and squeezed his hand. "We'll make Bata behave." "I know," sniffled Nanu, smiling and wiping at her eye. She'd always liked her big brother Anpu. He wasn't a jerk like Bata. "Just protect my sisters, Anpu, and my niece." He nodded, looking proud, since she'd assigned him this task. "Do you really need to leave already, Tahemet?" Djoser asked, calling Nanu by her childhood nickname of 'Queenie'. When they'd all been younger, Nanu, as the youngest, usually got the short end of the stick about everything. So she made up for it by having an active pretend life, where she was a queen, regal and worshipped by all. Meri, the eldest, had given her the nickname, but not in a mocking way, even if Bata used it as such. Nanu considered. Mark turned around and whispered to the porters. "Stay with us another night, and we'll triple your pay and give you all the remaining food." The men nodded readily. Nanu wanted to ask Mark and Becky, but they were supposed to be her slaves for this visit, so she couldn't be asking them. The decision was hers. She opened her eyes and smiled. "I'll stay until tomorrow." Everyone seemed relieved at her proclamation, and they continued eating and drinking merrily. Becky had to admit, they were taking this all in good stride. Then again, when all your deities had bird or reptile heads, there probably wasn't a lot you couldn't take on faith anyway. Mark now conversed with the family (with Nanu's permission), about how Nanu had come into wealth and escaped slavery, not to mention acquiring two exceptional specimens such as himself and Becky for slaves. Mark did something he was becoming distressingly good at and lied. It saved Nanu the hassle, which was just as well, since she spent much of her time holding Kiya's baby and talking quietly with her sister. Clearly they'd been attached at the hip when they were younger, and there was much about one another they were keen to rediscover. Watching them subtly touch each other and hold hands, thumbs gently caressing, brought a smile to Becky's face. She resolved to make sure Nanu got to see her family again. The day had worn on, and Nanu had to remind everyone repeatedly that there was no immediate need to get back to toiling over the barren landscape, since she had come with plenty of money. Evening was upon them, and the family began returning to the dwelling that served as their home. Mark added treated skins around the shelter, converting it into a tent, while Nanu begged Kiya to stay with her for the night, to which the older sister agreed readily. Last of all, she hugged her father and mother, promising to see them in the morning. They took little Nanu with them, leaving Mark, Becky, Nanu, and Kiya alone in the tent. The porters had returned to the boat and would sleep there. Once the flaps were all fastened shut, Nanu and Kiya had almost attacked one another, kissing feverishly, and tearing one another's clothes off. Alex smiled and watched while they took their own clothes off. They lay on a blanket together on their sides, with Mark spooning her. He caressed and fondled her gently while she squirmed her ass back against him and they watched the sisters, small sturdy covered lamps in the corners providing dim illumination. Naked and wrapped up in a tangle of writhing limbs, Nanu and Kiya were continuing to kiss hungrily, moaning the entire time. Hands wandered over forms they hadn't touched in over ten years, and those had probably changed considerably in the interim. They murmured and whispered to one another through the kissing, words Mark didn't try all that hard to make out. Let them have their fun. "Umm, there you are," Becky purred as she felt Mark get nice and hard while watching the show. She reached behind herself and took hold of his hard cock, guiding it to her cunt. She teased it up and down the slippery nether lips before letting Mark press home, and sinking deep inside her. They both moaned with relief at the coupling. Mark kissed Becky's neck and fondled her opulent tits as he began pushing his cock in and out of her slowly. They slowly made love while watching the sisters just to their side rediscover one another, after over a decade apart. Becky smiled as Nanu kissed Kiya deeply, expressing her innermost longings and desires. The younger sister lay on top of the older one, holding one another tight and kissing, their nubile bodies squirming together. "I love watching family reunions," Becky sighed quietly as she flexed her fingers on Mark's hip while he slid in and out of her, still massaging her opulent tits. "Look at them, Mark, they're so in love, and so happy to see one another." "It's certainly a feel good moment," he agreed, loving how she flexed her cunt muscles around him as he pushed him himself back and forth. "Mind you, just about everything involving you is, I find." Becky smiled and reached up to caress his cheek before turning her face to kiss him. While they were engaged in a tongue-lock, Nanu began kissing and nibbling her way slowly down Kiya's soft, responsive body, thrilling to hear the murmurs and whimpers of her sister again. She kissed her tan tits, swirling her tongue around the hard brown nipple, before biting and tugging on it, then giggling. "You can't imagine how long I've yearned to see you with tits, Ki," she said quietly, smirking up at the older girl. "They're everything I've ever hoped for and dreamed of." "Just wait until you see my cunt, then," Kiya replied, shivering beneath her sister's kisses. How she'd missed them! "And let me see if yours has become everything I've ever dreamed of." Nanu nodded and then wiggled around until her hips were over Kiya's face. In the dim light, the older sister could see the tempting twat, glistening with arousal and shaved curiously smooth. It must have been how they did things in distant Rome, of which her little sister was now apparently queen or some such thing. Without a moment's hesitation, she craned her head up and began kissing, sending shudders through Nanu and making her moan. The sisters kissed and lapped at one another, lovers reunited after agonizing years apart. They fell into it naturally, remembering what the other loved and craved, even if their bodies had changed in the interim. Nanu sighed in bliss at the taste of her sister, cloying and sweet on her tongue. She felt Kiya go rigid as one of her fingers slipped inside her twat. They rolled slowly onto their sides, legs locked around each other's head as they sucked on one another's cunt hungrily, lost in mutual pleasure. Mark and Becky kept watching, undulating and squirming as quietly as they could, letting the sisters rediscover their lost love. Nanu and Kiya were moaning into one another's pussies now, little gasps escaping them. They could see Nanu's ass cheeks clenching and pushing forward against her sister's face, even while Kiya slithered her tongue around inside her. They were both trembling and sweating now, bodies shining in the dim, flickering orange light inside the tent. "Ooh, here we go," Becky whispered, her hand reaching back to rest on Mark's neck and help keep her braced against him. "Let's see how long this has been pent up;” Both sisters were shaking now, but still lapping and sucking on each other relentlessly, squeaking and whimpering as they tried to hold out. But their lust would not be denied, and they both keened and strained, finally cumming. Mark and Becky watched in fascinated delight as Nanu bathed her sister's face in her glistening cum, and heard her moaning as Kiya reciprocated. Becky shivered and pressed her ass back against Mark, hard, sighing as she began to cum as well. Mark pressed forward with his hips, pushing his cock as far inside her as he could, pumping his cum deep into her greedy cunt. They squirmed and ground against each other, with Mark biting Becky's neck and her fingers running through his hair. "Umm, Mark;” she cooed, nuzzling against him, loving the feel of his molten cum inside her. "You have no idea how good this feels." "If it's one tenth as good as that, then pretty damn incredible," Mark said, nodding at Nanu and Kiya, who were still kissing one another's pussies, murmuring quietly and caressing. Nanu disengaged her mouth from Kiya's snatch and turned around again, lying on top of her sister as they began kissing again, tasting themselves on each other's lips. Kiya moved her right leg and Nanu her left, shifting around until their gooey pussies were squashed together, which they both obviously found immensely comforting. They ended their kiss, and Nanu looked over at Mark and Becky dreamily, her face shining with cum. "I would like to let Kiya taste you both;” Mark and Becky nodded, remembering that they were still pretending Nanu was noble and they were mere slaves. Mark slowly pulled his cock out of Becky and rolled onto his back. He pulled his teacher on top of him, facing up, with his cock poking up between her legs. The sisters crawled over, with Kiya looking rather hesitant, but trusting her little sister. She gazed at Mark's erect cock and Becky's twat in wonder. "He's huge," she breathed, unconsciously licking her lips. "You're lucky to have such a big cock at your disposal whenever you like, Nanu." "Don't I know it," giggled the younger sister, taking hold of Mark's tool and holding it up for Kiya, while she began kissing Becky's cunt, shivering as she tasted Mark's cum dribbling out of her mistress. "You'll love the taste of this cunt, too." Kiya began experimenting with kissing Mark's cock, which was glistening with his and Becky's mingled cum. The Egyptian girl seemed intimidated by its size initially, but remembered that Nanu clearly loved it, so there must be nothing to fear. Her hand joined Nanu's around the base of the shaft and soon she was sliding her tongue up and down his length, much like Nanu was doing to Becky's sweet twat. The sisters paused to kiss, tongues tangling as they shared the cum they'd both lapped up, humming contentedly into one another's mouth. To watch them, Mark would have sworn they'd done this before. They both stroked his shaft, while Nanu caressed Becky's cunt. The two girls pressed their foreheads together, giggling at some secret between them. Nanu looked at Becky and Mark warmly. "We should sleep, my family will not leave us alone for long. And I want my sister to try fucking you both before we must leave." "I do not want you to go," Kiya sighed. "I just got you back, Tahamet, it breaks my heart that you intend to leave again. Couldn't; couldn't you and your servants stay with us? You could even lead our family, since you are the one with the wealth. We could live wherever we wanted. I wanted to raise my daughter with you, my other half, missing for so long." Nanu's eyes glistened as she looked over at Mark and Becky. The blonde woman smiled lovingly. "Nanu," she said gently in Latin, which Kiya didn't speak. "This is your decision. If you want to stay with your sister and your family, Mark and I will understand. We'll leave the money with you, and even come and visit you when we can." The tear on her cheek was proof of how torn the young woman was by this decision. And it was one she had to make alone, possibly for the first time in her entire life. It had to be terrible for her. Finally, she hung her head for several moments, and when she looked back up, she was smiling. "Ki, I must go back to my life,", she sighed, her mind made up. "Trust me, I really want to stay, or to take you with me, especially you and little Nanu, but it must be this way. I can promise to visit, and that will have to do." "I understand," the older sister choked, nodding as her eyes welled over with tears. "I do. It's just hard. I'm so glad that you're alive and happy. It means so much to me. If the price is sending you away again, I can endure it. For you. For us. You know how in love with you I am." "Same as I am with you," Nanu said, her voice cracking and tears flowing. "Just remember that I'll keep my promise and visit whenever I can." The sisters grappled onto one another and began kissing feverishly, lying on their sides while their hands wandered freely. Mark chuckled and allowed Becky to clamber off him. She went to lie on the far side, spooning into Nanu and making sure she stayed pressed to her sister. Mark, meanwhile, spooned into Kiya, holding her in place against Nanu, while the two girls continued kissing and whimpering into one another's mouths. The two time travelers reached across and rested a hand on each other, smiling and relaxing, waiting for the Egyptian girls to nod off, their lips still pressed together in a forever-kiss. It was a long-overdue night of safety and contentment for the two. It was just dawn now, and Kiya looked like she was going into convulsions as she rocked up and down on top of Mark's cock. It was far the largest she'd ever had inside her, and it felt like it was splitting her open, like a wedge split wood. She could feel crackling and popping in her hips. How did Nanu, who was even smaller than her, endure it? Becky was kneeling right behind Kiya over Mark's thighs, pressed into the smaller girl and smiling wickedly while she molested her tits. Meanwhile, Nanu was kneeling over Mark's mouth, letting him lash her cunt with his tongue, while she faced into her older sister, loving the look on Kiya's face as she was almost fucked in half. Kiya squirmed and writhed, gasping like she was being choked, her eyes rolling up into her head. It wasn't long before her cunt clenched Mark ferociously, and Nanu had to lean forward and kiss her sister before Kiya shrieked in unreal ecstasy and woke up the entire family over and over, three hundred meh-ta away. Mark ground into Nanu's cunt as he arched his hips, pushing up somehow deeper inside Kiya and then cumming, filling her so profusely that she was once again shaking like she was having a seizure. The squishy noises of his cum bubbling out of her filled the tiny tent. Nanu shivered and came on his mouth seconds later. Becky hauled the nearly unconscious Kiya off of Mark's pole, while Nanu leaned down and sucked it clean quickly. She then moved forward quickly to lie between her sister's legs, sucking Mark's cum out of her cunt with a fiendish eagerness. Becky crawled over to join Mark and they watched the sisters quietly. Nanu finished draining Kiya of cum, finally, and crawled over her, nestling down onto her body. Not surprisingly, they were kissing again. "Jeez, you ever seen too people more in love?" he mused, smirking as he lazily caressed her tits while she sat in front of him. "I ain't complaining about the show," Becky replied, nodding and grazing her fingernails along his forearm. "She must really believe in our promise to her if she's willing to leave her sister and niece behind to come with us. I feel slightly bad about it." Mark shrugged. "She wouldn't have even had this choice without us, Becks," he pointed out. "Clearly our offer means a lot to her. 'sides, she knows she can always visit them now, just like we promised. And if the Holmes Field Device won't bring her forward, we can leave her here with them, right?" "I guess that's true," Becky agreed, nodding and just watching. "What is that language they speak to one another when they don't want anyone to understand them?" Kiya asked in a whisper, looking just past her sister's shoulder at Mark and Becky suspiciously. "I don't even know," Nanu confessed. "I've never heard it before. Anywhere." Kiya gazed up into her younger sister's eyes, giving her a skeptical look. "They're not your slaves, are they? There's no damn way two people as magnificent as that are slaves to anybody, forget a dopey little slut of a girl from Akhmim." Nanu sighed. "Fine, you got me," she whispered, pretending to kiss her sister's ear, while Kiya squirmed and held her close. They made a show of grinding their pussies together, giving Mark and Becky something to look at. "They're not my slaves. I was hers, for a little bit. But what they really are is adventurers, from very far away. And they're taking me with them, to share their adventures. Not as a slave, but as one of them." Kiya assessed what her sister was saying for some time, trying to parse it out. It sounded absurd, but then, so was Nanu

The Time Riders: Part 9 Planning Another Vacation Time Travel. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Cast of Characters: Mark Simmons: 18 year old High School grad, enamored with Miss Becky Fischer. He finds the time machine and builds a new life. Uses various aliases in traveling. Rebecca 'Becky' Fischer: Mark's Physics teacher. Very intelligent, in her later twenties, Shapely Tall Blonde, lusty bisexual, D Cup tits. Martial arts expert, Uses various aliases in traveling. Henri: Claims to be a French physician and Apothicary. Chester Edgerton: Time traveling mentor, living in 17th Century French village. Cardinal Richelieu: ‘The Red Duke'. Statesman and Roman Catholic Cardinal. Dispises Queen Anne. Alexandra D'Assaut ('Alexa', or 'Lexi': Lady in waiting (and trusted advisor) to Queen Anne of France, Lusty bisexual, Very Tall, Busty DD tits, long golden blonde hair, Blue eyed. Lisette: servant (and lover) of Lady Alexandra, young, bespeckled brown eyes. Short, shapely, with wavy dark hair, bisexual. Dhallyla: Mark's mother. Roxy: Mark's sister. Nanu: An Egyptian slave of Pompeneia Flavius, purchased by Becky, dark complexion. Pompeneia: Roman hostess of Orgies. Lusty wife of Flavius, Mother of Domitia, bisexual, tall and shapely. Flavius: Roman aristocrat, husband of Pompeneia, protective father of Dometia, Domitia: Lusty young daughter of Pompeneia and Flavius. A pledged Vestal Virgin, Escapes to Sumeria when sentenced to death by starvation by Roman court. The Retiallis: A gladiator of the Collosseum. Prefers the trident spear and netting, to subdue opponents. Escapes to Sumeria. Rullus: A bulky gladiator of huge physical dimensions. Has an affection for Achilleia. Escapes to Sumeria. Achilleia: A fierce female gladiator. Prefers the whip and sword as weapons. Has a crush on Rullus. Escapes to Sumeria. Roxy stomped out of his room, trying to not slam the door behind her. Once he heard her heading down the stairs, Mark sank onto the corner of his bed and exhaled loudly, another shiver running up his spine. He suddenly had to pee. Had he really told Roxy the truth? He hadn't planned to, but he didn't exactly know what he planned to tell her, either. Now that he thought of it, telling her the truth was even more ridiculous than any appreciable lie he could have come up with, wasn't it? Of course she wouldn't believe him about a time machine, and she was quite reasonable not to. Just because it was true didn't mean she was committing an error in judgment. But now what? He had no idea how long her coerced 'promise' would hold her. She was really hot under the collar, and Roxy didn't take losing well at the best of times. He'd just have to be careful, he supposed. More so. He sighed and looked down at her little weed pipe, still in its baggie. In a moment of panic, when Roxy had been standing over him and threatening to slug him across the jaw, he'd made an instant decision; taking a lesson from his playbook with Becky; and resolved that he would get into Danni's house and filch the pipe, because he knew Roxy kept it there. He'd heard her talking over the phone about it with Danni at various points, and never really thought anything of it. Until now. He was familiar with Danni's house, since she'd been best friends with Roxy since they were little. When the two families were having dinner together, the girls had often dragged Mark upstairs and dressed him in girl's clothes and put makeup on him, like he was a doll for their tea parties. He also knew that Danni's parents didn't care if she smoked, because he'd heard Roxy lament this fact over the phone, wishing her parents were that cool. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to do the math of all this in his head. It would take Roxy thirty minutes to reach Danni's house in her car, to ask what the Hell had happened. But Danni would protest, insisting she'd never betray her friend and give Mark the pipe. Then she'd prove it by showing Roxy it was exactly where it was supposed to be, which was taped inside to the top of her underwear drawer. Only it wouldn't be there. Unless Mark went back to Danni's place and stashed it again, before the girls got up to her room. And then got out again. That'd really fuck with Roxy's head, and make Danni think Rox had gone insane. It took eight minutes for Mark to fire up and prime the Holmes Field Device, which was sitting in a corner in the basement that no one ever used. It was dead space, and as safe as any place else could be that wasn't Becky's basement. Eight minutes to prime it and program in the coordinates and the time. Like, literally a minute after he'd apparently gotten the pipe out of there to begin with. What? His mind was almost spinning at the logic flips. He had to return the pipe before he actually stole it? When did he steal it if he hadn't done it before returning it? And did that mean he had to steal it twice? He could account, apparently, for Danni not being in her room the first time, because he'd seemingly gotten away with it. If he landed a minute or so after he had burgled her, he would have the time he needed, he hoped, before she came back from wherever she was. Return it; steal it later, when no one is looking, then return it; I think. He heard the distinct sound of Roxy's Mustang roaring away down the road angrily. He somehow doubted that he had thirty minutes. What if he miscalculated and got caught? The obvious issues aside, how did he explain the Holmes Field Device? Could he explain it? People in this era thought time travel was fanciful sci-fi, after all. What happened then? He dropped the baggie on the bed, clasped his face in his hands and groaned, the number of calculations he needed to do making his head hurt. He really needed to stop pulling his solutions out of his ass, he was going to give himself a time-hemorrhoid. Time was wasting. "Wow, Mark," Becky mused as she sat in her lounger, sipping at the Falernian wine. Her bottles were almost gone, and they'd soon have to go back to their secret place in the woods and get more. It had been a rather involved operation, getting the giant vats aged a certain number of years back in the Roman era, then transporting them into the present and burying them again, so that they had a large stock of perfectly aged wine. "You sure like to play with fire, don't you?" "Tell me about it," he said wearily, as he sat on the couch, long pull drink from his own wine glass. "Can't believe it went off without a hitch." "You were near death that first night with me," Becky said rather somberly, concerned about the stress on her student's face. "And that only required one trip on your part, and my belief in myself. This little circus, however, I'll be amazed if your time cops don't show up to lecture you again. You'd deserve it." "I felt trapped, okay?" he said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. He knew Becky was right, and he didn't want to snap at her. It had just really worn him out. He'd lost track of when he was supposed to be there, and how often. He'd eventually concluded that dumb luck had saved him from criminal charges, not to mention any other headaches. "I just; when telling her the truth didn't make her go away, I jumped into my playbook, which at this time, consists of what I did with you." "What would you have done, exactly, if she'd believed you about the Holmes Field Device?" Becky queried, looking at him with interest. He considered and gave a halfhearted shrug. "I guess I knew she wouldn't, because if I told Roxy I was a guy, she'd yank my pants down to make sure. But to answer your question, I; I dunno. I was just really outta options." "I know you know this, Mark, but we obviously have to find ways for you to be even more careful," she said in a gentle tone. "You haven't timelocked yourself yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if you came really close there." "No shit," he muttered, scowling at his glass. "Sorry, just stressed." "Oh, poor baby," Becky cooed, getting out of her seat and coming over to sit down next to Mark. She pulled him into lean on her and then rested his face between her opulent tits, knowing exactly the effect this would have on him. "Just relax, it's all fine now." Mark sighed and nuzzled into her tits, relaxing a little. His teacher's scent and her glorious softness had a calming effect on his frazzled nerves. "Uhd, we should go on vacation in some remote time for a year or so. I could use it." Becky giggled, stroking her fingers through her student's dark hair. "If only we could." "Well, why couldn't we?" Mark reasoned, still nuzzling and refusing to leave his nest. "We've got a time machine, don't we?" "Mark, a two-week vacation is one thing, but longer stretches are problematic." "Why?" Becky sighed and put down her wine, opting to just hold him while he nuzzled her boobs. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy the sensation, after all. She knew that Mark, even though he was at least as experienced a time traveler as she was at this point, was still an eighteen-year-old boy, who had failed her Physics course. He just wasn't good at this stuff yet. But he took her with him readily, and she would have all the patience in the world until he caught up. If he ever did. "Mark, let's say you and I did indeed go on vacation for a year, somewhere in the time stream," she began, still stroking his wavy, dark hair. "And let's say we left tonight." "Sounds good, I'm in," Mark replied in a muffled tone. She smirked and continued. "And we come back after a year, to, say, an hour after we left, no one would notice, right?" "That's the beauty of it," he agreed, nodding in her boobs. "But we'd notice," she pointed out. We'd be a whole year older than when we left. When you got back, everyone would be trying to celebrate your nineteenth birthday, when, in reality, you're twenty. And you're the only one aside from me who knows it. Thanks to my captivity in the Louvre, I'm already a month older than our calendar indicates, so my birthday is technically inaccurate." He paused as he considered what she was saying. "And let's say, God forbid, that the time machine broke down somewhere in the past," she said, her voice taking on a serious tone. "Neither of us knows how to fix it, and there's absolutely no guarantee that we'd be able to find someone who could. What if it took the two of us five years to repair it, against all odds? We'd arrive back, an hour after we left, if we could, and everyone would notice we were magically five years older. I'd be thirty, you'd be twenty-three. We'd both look somewhat older, undoubtedly. How would we account for that?" Mark said nothing, just listening. "The only alternative would be to arrive five years in the future, to make up the difference, but then we've been AWOL with no explanation for five years," she continued. "Sure, maybe you can say you joined the merchant marines without a moment's notice, but what would I say?" She took his chin gently and turned his head to look up into her blue eyes. "We can't mess with the time stream and people's lives like that," she said quietly, almost sadly. "We're not from an era where time travel is the norm and people know what to expect." "You sure know how to take the fun out of time travel, Becks," he sighed, shaking his head. She giggled and cradled him in her bosom again, knowing he didn't mean it. "Silly," she cooed, jiggling her tits against his face a little. "You know better than anyone how much fun I can be in the time stream." "Yeah, that's true," Mark admitted, smiling and turning over on his back to look up at her while he lay in her lap. She was wearing black yoga pants, and a tight tank top and gave her impressive bust lots of breathing room. "But I really could use a little time away, to be honest. This nonsense stressed me out." "I'm sure it did, and hopefully you'll start thinking about these things ahead of time," she agreed, poking him in the nose. "In terms of what we could do, I have been giving the matter some thought." Mark raised an eyebrow. Becky never had bad ideas. Not compared to his, in any event. "I'm all ears." "Hardly," Becky giggled, reaching her hand down to gently cup his crotch beneath his jeans. "Let me explain first. You're not the only one with a predicament, although mine isn't necessarily self-inflicted." "Still listening," Mark said dryly, noticing the cheerful jibe. "It's difficult, being separated by three months the way we are," Becky said, caressing his cheek. "You, the Mark lying in my lap, you're from my upcoming summer. Me, I'm still waiting for the school year to finish. And three times a week, I see you in my classroom, and have to remind myself that the you sitting in that desk is not only still a minor, still, but has absolutely no idea about any of this." Mark said nothing, considering. "And I have to constantly be on guard, making sure I'm not sitting behind my desk, gazing at you dreamily in an off moment, or reminding myself not to sext you from the bathroom." "Damn, now I kinda wish you had," Mark mused, making her snicker. "Silly. What I'm saying, is that I think in the very near future, we'll need to not see each other for three months, as agonizing as that sounds, so that I can catch up with you." Mark screwed up his face as he thought about that. "That does sound sucky." "Oh, it won't be for you," Becky pointed out. "You get to hop on your time machine and return to three months from now, just like you always do every time we meet up. You won't even notice the difference. But you've also very tacitly avoided my future self for now, haven't you?" He nodded. "Yeah, you said to. Not that hard; it's a big city, and you told me where you tend to be at any given time, so it isn't much of a challenge." "Well, I want to catch up," Becky said firmly. "I want us to be on the same relative time frame, so that we don't need to worry about twists and so on, where things can go wrong. And if that means not seeing this you for three months," she whispered, placing her hand gently on his crotch, "and no time travelling for me because you've got the Holmes Field Device, then I'll manage. But it needs fixing, Mark." "Okay, done," Mark agreed, nodding. "But you mentioned something fun, which hasn't come up yet in this presentation so far." "Well," Becky began again. "I was thinking that we really should go and get Nanu and bring her forward with us. "It's not fair to leave her in that villa by herself. She doesn't really know how to look after herself, after all." "But we can keep visiting her," Mark pointed out. "She doesn't understand time travel, she'd hardly notice." "If we keep coming back to the same point in time to visit her, or at least within the same period frequently, it's true that little or no time will have passed for her," Becky said. "But we have our own lives, and goodness only knows when we'll have the time to pop out to Imperial Rome again. Years might pass for us before we can see her. How would we explain how much older we look to her?" "That again," Mark sighed, resenting the mathematical drudgery of time travel. "Yeah, that would freak her out. And as far as she's concerned, I'm still your slave, and she is too." "It's a notion I'll have to disabuse her of, once we bring her back here," Becky confirmed. "But I was thinking we'd have some fun when we go back and get her, and then she could stay with me. I'd spend our three months apart teaching her about our time and world, and when you meet us, we'd all be caught up together. Sound good?" "Well, I can't imagine it not being fun if you're around," Mark replied, grinning and sitting up, feeling considerably better after this talk with his teacher. "What're we gonna use to get the funds?" "Well," Becky said, making a cute show of thinking. "I've actually checked with that chroniques dealer? The one over on Adelaide that we were directed to?" "You've been busy!" Mark laughed, putting his arm around her shoulder. "I like to be prepared," she purred, snuggling into his side. "Anyway, I told him about my complete collection of Monchhichi minis that I inherited from my older cousin when I was young. Never did anything with 'em, because they just took up shelf space. But he's willing to give me a lot of money for them, apparently they're huge in the thirty-third century." "Well, of course they are," Mark said, rolling his eyes. "I; what the Hell are they, anyway? Never heard of 'em." "Oh, just collectible figurines from Japan in the Seventies, they look like cute little lolicon monkeys, along with a plushie toyline and several cartoons," she explained, waiving dismissively. "I couldn't care less about them, and if they make some person happy thirteen hundred years in the future, great. I'm getting lots of money for 'em." "Okay," Mark agreed, shrugging. "I was gonna sell my dad's Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots or Micronauts if we needed the geld. I'd probably get a good price on those, too." "You will," she confirmed. "But my lolicon monkeys are worth more, so we'll use them. So, we'll go see Nanu, tell her what's really up, have a lot of fun, spread my money around, and then bring her back. Sound good? I think two weeks of solid sucking and fucking should make you forget your woes." "I can hardly wait," Mark declared. "Why wait at all, big boy?" she purred again, as she undid his fly and bent her head down while fishing his cock out of his pants. Nanu sighed as she sat on the solium, kicking her legs back and forth slowly as she looked at the mosaic on the floor. It had been over a week now since she had seen anybody, let alone her mistress. As gorgeous as her surroundings were, this expansive villa hidden in the distant hills outside of mighty Rome, she was decidedly lonely. She'd never really spent any appreciable time by herself before Lady Aurora had purchased her from the Flavians. Despite her mistress' unwelcome absence, she found herself smiling as she thought of her. Lovely, lovely Lady Aurora Horatia; tall, with long, golden blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, sensuous lips that were always parted to show her white teeth and radiant smile. Her thoughts turned to the lady's other parts now, and she blushed. She thought of her mistress' lovely neck, supple shoulders, her large, perky bust, trim waist and glorious, tight ass. Nanu felt warm as she pictured Lady Aurora's cunt, which she kept smooth and clean; so unusual for a Roman patrician woman. She had long, strong dancer's legs, just like Nanu. She remembered how captivated she'd been while she watched Lady Aurora dance at the orgy. Bonosus. Lady Aurora's principal slave, and her lover. Dark, wavy hair, and deep brown eyes; he was unnaturally tall, at least to Nanu, with an athletic build, broad shoulders, and a small waist that was hard to the touch; and his cock was huge. It had felt like it was tearing Nanu apart when she rode on it with wild abandon. She came out of her reverie and looked around again, sighing forlornly. The villa was beautiful, with plastered walls covered in colorful frescoes, mosaic floors, indoor bathing chambers and toilets, beautiful gardens, a stream just behind the building, and all the delicious food she could eat. She had all the creature comforts any slave could ever want, but it was still quiet and lonely for her. She looked down at herself, using her fingers to pull slightly at the material of the top of the dress she wore. It was a spare garment, made of quality linen, one of several Lady Aurora had bought for Nanu from the Flavius family. Of course, the slave girl was thrilled beyond words to wear such a thing, and in all ways, she saw her ownership by Lady Aurora as a turning point in her life, the beginning of something wonderful beyond words. She and Bonosus were the luckiest slaves to ever live. But not if she was so very alone. Nanu, born into poverty in the tiny settlement of Akhmim in Egypt, the youngest of twelve children. Sold into slavery to the Flavians at a tender age to help feed her family, she'd lived a hard life, doing the most menial of tasks for the wealthy Roman family at their home in Tepihu, far up the Nile. But then they discovered she could dance, and dance well. She was sent to the principal Flavian household in distant Rome, a place she'd only ever heard of, and could never imagine. She danced for the patriarch and his wife, and they agreed to keep her on, as long as her legs held out. So Nanu danced relentlessly, determined to never return to the misery she'd known before. Within a year, she was the leader of the dancing girls the Flavians owned, and whatever jealousies the other girls might have held were quickly cast aside. Nanu understood that if she treated them all equally, she was more likely to prosper, rather than looking after only herself at their expense. She was lovers with all of them, and it wasn't long before she was fucking the lord and lady as well. Her position was as secure as a slave's could be under such circumstances. True, she was still punished, quite often for things beyond her control. But the Flavians were not overly harsh with her, having her flogged with short, thin reed brooms, to avoid scarring her. It hurt, and she cried, but she inevitably recovered, usually to be fucked by Master Flavius as she soon as she could walk. She left the chair and walked over to a small table, on which sat a highly polished silver mirror. She picked it up and looked at herself, pursing her lips, assessing her features. She'd always concluded that she was at least somewhat attractive, since men (and women) always wanted to fuck her. She was aware that being a highly trained dancer gave her a desirable physique for a slave, and her strong, taut muscles kept her cunt tight. Her tits were not overly large, but were pronounced from her torso, and jiggled when she danced or ran. She thought they swayed nicely when she walked. She had the creamy bronze skin of the people of the Black Lands, children of the pharaohs. Her thick hair was a glossy blue-black, and she kept it trimmed to just past her jaw, in the manner of women in her country. Her eyes were a warm hazel, with tawny flecks many of the other dancing girls described as bewitching and seductive. If only she could- "Well now, if it isn't everyone's favorite dancing slave," quipped a lyrical voice from nearby. Nanu's head snapped around and she cried out in delight as she espied Lady Aurora standing in the door nearby, with Bonuses just behind, looming over her and grinning. Nanu had been so wrapped up in looking at her reflection and feeling sorry for herself that she hadn't even heard them approach. "Mistress!" the Egyptian girl called out as she darted across the room and threw herself into Lady Aurora's waiting arms. "Magistra! How I Have Missed You!" "We've missed you too, Nanu," Becky said softly, hugging the shorter girl and kissing the top of her head while Nanu burst into tears. "I'm sorry we were away for so long." "It felt like forever, mistress, I won't lie," Nanu said, choking back her sobs before pressing her mouth to Becky's and kissing her fiercely. Becky returned the kiss gladly, and the women greeted one another with tangling tongues and wandering hands for nearly a minute before they needed to breathe. Nanu looked up at Becky now, her eyes still wide and wet with emotion. "May I; may I say hello to Bonosus, mistress?" "I'm pretty sure he's counting on it," Becky said, stepping aside and giggling as Nanu flung herself against Mark, kissing him feverishly, but with her hands predictably snaking down his frame and under his tunic to fondle his cock. "Goodness, girl, did those toys I left get no love from you in my absence?" "Oh, mistress, they got loved day and night," Nanu replied, turning to look at Becky since she was being addressed. "But I do not need to tell you that it is hardly the same as the real thing, as to have a real lover. And I am sorry if it makes me sound deficient, but; I am not good at being alone. I am not at all used to it." "Oh, I'm sorry, darling," Becky said as Mark picked Nanu up in his arms and carried her back into the room. Nanu had her arms around his neck, and seemed to be in absolute heaven, now that the two most important people in her life had returned. "But we're back now, and we have no intention of leaving you behind again." Nanu looked curious. "Won't leave me behind again; are we going somewhere, mistress? Are we to leave the villa?" "It will take some explaining, I promise you that," Becky answered, nodding. "But first, I think the three of us should fuck one another stupid all over the villa, don't you?" Nanu's face lit up at her mistress' suggestion and she nodded eagerly. "Yes, mistress! I want to fuck you both until I cannot see or walk straight!" Becky made a grand gesture with her hand, taking in the whole villa. "Then you may pick where we fuck, my love. Anywhere, as much as you please. We await your pleasure." Nanu looked around in almost breathless excitement as Mark put her down. She didn't know where to begin, only that she wanted to fuck Mistress Aurora and Bonosus in every single area of the villa. She'd been so glum that she barely noticed how horny she was. Now the rampant feelings of lust washed over her, and her cunt was shamefully wet. She grabbed Becky's hand and pulled her excitedly along through the house. "This way!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with anticipation. "I want us to bathe and fuck!" Becky and Mark laughed as they followed the Egyptian girl into the small antechamber in front of the sudatorium, which Mark and Becky would normally identify as a sauna. They were amazed at the speed with which Nanu had not only removed her own clothes, but also undressed the two of them. Clearly she was in great need and had no intention of waiting. She had apparently lit the fire to heat the small room earlier in the day, for her own use, and now all she had to do was scrub the three of them down before bringing them inside. With a small sponge and rough linen cloths, she did this quickly. She then brought them into the sweat room, which was filled with steam already. Rocks in the little containment chamber over the brazier heated water and caused the steam, while small pouches of herbs hung over the rocks, and wine dripped through them to sizzle and evaporate, giving the steam a heady, aromatic quality that often left guests somewhat drunk. The three now stretched out on the wooden benches that lined the wall, sighing and relaxing for a moment before Nanu's eagerness overtook her. She crawled on top of Becky and kissed her deeply, squirming her body down into her mistress' while they fondled one another. Mark watched on lazily, knowing that the day was young, and it was best that he conserve his strength. Keeping up with Nanu's libido was no small task, not to mention Becky's once she got going. It wasn't long before the two girls were locked in a slippery, trembling sixty-nine, moaning as they lapped at one another's twats and fingered each other's puckered knots. Nanu came so hard she almost shrieked inside Becky's cunt, while the blonde goddess shuddered and speared her tongue deep inside her lover as she came, glazing Nanu's face with her cum. Both girls seemed almost to become puddles, sighing languidly as they lay together, bodies shining with sweat. Through the haze of steam, Mark could see them kissing one another's pussies gently, and the look on Nanu's face could only be described as rapture, mixed with a sense of relief and contentment. She was so happy her mistress had come back to her. But Nanu recovered quickly, turning her head to look at her fellow 'slave', whom she knew as Bonosus. Mark was lying on his side on the bench he occupied, idly stroking his cock. Nanu had already focused on his manhood like an arrow, and managed to extricate herself from Becky without disturbing her mistress' bliss, and crawled across the tile floor on all fours, her hazel eyes glinting. Without waiting, she knelt next to him, moved Mark's hand aside, and took his cock into her grip. She began stroking slowly and gently, before leaning in to kiss the swelling tool lovingly. She swirled her tongue around the head, then up and down the hardening shaft several times, her hand following her tongue. Then she popped her mouth around the head and slowly pushed down, humming as she moved wetly down his length. Mark sighed in pleasure and began running his hand through her raven hair. Becky now watched, caressing her creamy cunt as she gazed over at the lovers. Mark was half on his back, half on his side, while Nanu was kneeling on the floor, bent over and bobbing up and down on his stiff cock. Her tiny hand made a gentle twisting motion on the smooth skin of his shaft, following her warm, wet mouth. Becky smiled, knowing how great it was to give her student head, since she'd done it countless times herself now. Things would be so much easier for them all when she finally caught up with him in the timeline. Mark stroked down Nanu's back and reached her ass, giving one of the tight, perk cheeks a squeeze before nudging her. Nanu took the hint readily and stood up, clambering over Mark's face and looking down his body. The bench wouldn't have been big enough for Mark and Becky to do what was now happening, but Nanu was considerably smaller than Becky, and somehow managed. She leaned down his body, crying out suddenly as Mark pulled her ass cheeks apart and slid his tongue around her gooey cunt. She trembled and squirmed for several moments before composing herself and returning to the task of sucking on his cock hungrily. He was at full mast now, and Nanu's tiny hand could hardly fit around the girth of his shaft. Amazingly, though, she could take his manhood all the way inside her mouth, and down her throat readily. Becky's slave was as gifted as she was shameless, clearly. Nanu grunted as Mark slid one of his fingers inside her ass. Mark had larger hands than most people from her home era, and his finger was larger than some dicks she'd had back there before. Or at least, it certainly felt that way at the moment. She accepted the intrusion willingly, squirming back against his hand, and squeezing her tight tunnel around it while he massaged her cunt and clit with her tongue. She let out little moans, still bobbing up and down while giving Becky a sidelong look with heavily lidded, glazed eyes. Determined to not be left out, Becky slowly rose from her bench and wiggled over across the small area. She observed the setting with a critical eye for several moments, working out the logistics of how to best fit into this carnal puzzle. Just like she could not readily engage in a sixty-nine with Mark on these relatively (to them) narrow benches, she could not straddle him and fuck him to proper effect either. The answer presented itself quickly. She eased Nanu up into a sitting position over Mark's face, and if the slave girl was disappointed in having to relinquish that delicious cock, the feeling quickly gave way to yelps of delight as she sank her cunt even further down onto Mark's tongue, squirming and grinding lustily. Becky pumped and stroked Mark's cock steadily for several seconds, making sure he would stay hard. He was lying down the length of the bench, his tool ramrod-erect for her. She then stood and moved over his midsection, facing out into the tiny chamber. She bent her knees and reached under, steadying his throbbing cock while she guided it to her cuntlips. One she had him in place, she slowly sat down, sighing as he pushed up inside her steaming depths. Her ass come to rest on his hips, while she sat sideways on him, pinned to his cock. She closed her eyes and just savored the sensation for several seconds, her fingers flexing against his stomach and his knee, respectively. She finally opened her blue eyes and turned her head to smile at Nanu, who was moving up and down slowly on Mark's tireless tongue. Becky leaned in toward the slave, who immediately moved her torso forward to meet Becky. They kissed over Mark's long form, tongues tangling while Becky began to move up and down slowly, loving the feel of this unique position with him deep inside her. The threesome slowly squirmed and undulated against one another, time lost within the confines of the tiny, steaming chamber. The dim, amber light of the fire beneath the heated stones was their only illumination, but in this misty, ethereal sitting, it was utter perfection. The scent of spiced wine mingled with the aromas of bodies making love. Becky could taste the wine in Nanu's sweat as she drew her tongue along the girl's collarbone and over her tits. "I think it's about time for you to fuck Nanu and cum in her, Mark," Becky panted after several minutes of churning up and down on his thick rod. She was massaging and groping her tits, or Nanu's as she rode. The Egyptian girl had reached forward and was massaging her mistress' cunt dutifully as well. "It's been a few weeks for her, and you just filled me up this morning." "Relatively speaking," Mark quipped from beneath Nanu's writhing hips. "You sit on the bench and spread 'em, Becks, and she can kneel and lick you. I'll get behind her." Becky had no problem with this plan, and quickly coaxed Nanu off Mark's face, to kneel on the floor in front of her. Nanu's eyes widened with delight as Becky smiled and parted her legs, before reaching down with two fingers to spread her thick nether lips wide, exposing her glistening inner pink to the slave girl. Nanu practically dived in, and Becky grunted and almost jumped, clasping the girl's head suddenly, her feet leaving the floor. "Nuh, fuck!" she wheezed as Nanu began lapping at her like she was eating her last meal before she died. Her fingers gripped Nanu's black hair while she began grinding her snatch against the girl's face desperately. Nanu licked cunt like nobody's business. Mark, meanwhile, had positioned himself behind Nanu, and lined his cock up with her dripping twat, holding her by the ass cheeks. Nanu trembled while he slid his cockhead up and down her slippery lips, and against her tingling clit, making her squeak and whimper into Becky's cunt. He braced her for only the briefest of moments before sliding inside her without any warning, sinking in to the hilt. The Egyptian slave-girl wailed in ecstasy as he forced her wide, pinning her to him. Mark began fucking Nanu with a steady, strong pace, and she yelped into her mistress' cunt with each thrust, even while lapping at her pink twat hungrily. Her face was shining with sweat, and Becky's wetness, her tongue thick with the cloying sweetness of the blonde woman. Nanu's head was spinning in delight. Surely this was the heavenly afterlife? Becky almost curled up on herself, her fingernails threatening to leave grooves in Nanu's scalp as she shook uncontrollably and came, barely able to keep herself from screeching. She slathered Nanu's face in her essence, her entire body tingling with fire. Nanu shuddered and writhed, wailing as she came, her cunt tightening around Mark's cock fiendishly. As if on cue, Mark arched his back, gritted his teeth and growled, pumping all his cum inside Nanu, thrusting strongly. The trio rocked and writhed in depraved unison for close to a minute before Mark leaned forward on Nanu's back, breathing heavily. Becky sighed in exhaustion, sinking down on the bench, her cunt pressing into Nanu's face. The slave girl, pinned in place between her mistress and her fellow slave, simply held still, surrounded by warm, slick flesh and gently caressing fingers. She could still feel Bonosus throbbing deep inside her, and her mistress' cunt oozed against her mouth. She felt so blessed and safe like this. But then she looked up from between Becky's legs, her own glinting with eagerness. "Come! I know where we need to fuck next!" And with that, the Egyptian girl extricated herself from between them and wiggled quickly out of the room. Mark groaned and sagged forward between Becky's tits, and she held onto him wearily. "Now I know why we can't leave her for weeks on end," he mumbled in her cleavage. "Because we won't survive the backlog of fucking we need to do;” Nanu was sitting in the chair, her expression one of bewilderment. She seemed to have forgotten the goblet of wine in her hand, and she sat with her arms and legs tucked in close to her body. Clearly, she was confused and feeling uncertain about what she was hearing. "You're; mistress, you're not a Roman at all?" she asked quietly as she stared at Becky. They were sitting in the atrium of the villa, and it was a quiet evening. Birds sang, and a gentle breeze caressed their faces and the nearby blossoms as it dipped over the villa and into the central opening. Becky shook her head, knowing that this was going to take a lot of patience on her and Mark's part; and even more on Nanu's. Everything she was in the process of telling the girl would sound completely preposterous, even more so than Mark's explanation to his sister the day before. "No, Nanu, I'm not a Roman of any sort," the blonde woman confessed, trying to smile. "And my name is not Aurora Horatia. My name is Rebecca." "Rebekah?" Nanu queried, making a wry face. "That is a Hebrew name." She looked Becky up and down skeptically. "You don't look like a Hebrew." The slave girl looked at Mark. "And your name is not Bonosus, and you're not a Roman either?" He shook his head. "Nope. I'm Mark. And Becks is actually my teacher." Nanu squeezed her eyes shut for several seconds and when she finally opened them, they were filled with worry. "Are; are you going to kill me?" Despite herself, Becky burst into giggle fits at the question. Nanu looked confused, and then slightly irked at the response from her 'mistress'. She thought it was a perfectly reasonable question, under these circumstances. She folded her arms, crossed her legs, and looked off at the sky over the far wall, annoyed. "I'm sorry, Nanu," Becky said finally reining herself in. "I wasn't laughing at you, I mean it. It just wasn't what I expected to hear at all, and we both love you too much to ever consider killing you. Hell, I'm not sure we could if we tried." "Well I don't know what to believe," sniffed the younger girl. "You've bought me, and taken me away from a comfortable, if not happy life, and nearly gotten me killed at least once, and then there was that; thing; that you two ride around on;” "The Holmes Field Device," Becky said, nodding. "It doesn't just take us where we want to go, it allows us to travel through time, which is why we are here at all." Nanu shook her head, indicating that she had no idea what Becky meant. The teacher leaned forward slightly, smiling. They weren't sitting that far apart, but she had allowed for a small amount of distance between them, so that Nanu didn't feel trapped or pressured if she took all this poorly. To be honest, she was taking it surprisingly well, even if she wasn't buying all of it. "Nanu, I apologize for asking simple questions, but please bear with me;” she said quietly, noticing that even if she was listening, Nanu was now staring at Becky's cleavage, framed between her arms while she sat forward. Mark was staring too. Some thing would never change. "You understand the concepts of yesterday, today and tomorrow, yes?" Nanu nodded slowly. "Yes, mistress." "Do you ever wish you could visit days that have gone by?" Becky asked. "Like maybe go back and visit your childhood, or meet some member of your family who was lost years ago? Or even see the Sphinx getting built?" The girl looked confused again. "Suh-finx?" Becky looked at Mark, hoping for some help. He still had the chip that let him speak Egyptian in his head. He pondered the issue for a moment before the tiny computer in his noggin gave him the answer. He looked at Nanu and smiled. "Horemakhet." Nanu's eyes went wide. To see the Horus of the Western Horizon being built by the gods. She shook her head. "What you say is impossible!" Becky smiled now, not blaming Nunu for her disbelief. "Nanu, a long time ago, people would have thought that chariots were impossible, that mastering fire and steel were impossible. But you know they're not just possible, you know that these things are fact." Nanu nodded, willing to listen to her beloved mistress, who apparently wasn't her mistress. But she listened. "Mark and I come from many, many tomorrows away, a time many years from now. That device that we travel on, it allows us to do it." The Egyptian girl screwed up her face, trying to understand. She thought she'd heard outlandish things in her life before, but this was so far beyond her conceptions and experience that it sounded like a ridiculous fable her grandmother would tell her. But she had stepped on the wondrous device, and it had taken them somewhere far away from Rome in the blink of an eye, and back. She could not deny this had happened, even if she didn't understand it. Which brought up a big question for her. "Why do you do this?" she queried, looking at each of them. Mark shrugged. "It's fun to move through time and do things." Another skeptical look from Nanu. "You think it's fun to have the gladiators of Rome try to kill you?" Mark faltered slightly. "I; well, no, not that part." Becky giggled. "No, Nanu, that part is unplanned. Mark and I like to travel to different times, to see important events, and to fuck there." Nanu tilted her head curiously at the statement. "What it so important about fucking in these places?" Becky considered her answer. "There's nothing important about it, you're right. But it's still fun. We love to do these things, because almost no one else can. And hopefully it's exciting but not dangerous. If we didn't do this, we never would have met you, and we wouldn't be fucking you now. And we both wouldn't be crazy about you." Nanu's stomach was in her feet as she thought about what her mis; what Rebekah was saying. She was horrified by the thought now that she might never have met them, they she might not have been bought, or living here, in freedom, and getting fucked to her little heart's content. "But if you are not; not from today;” she murmured, trying to formulate her thoughts around these strange concepts. "Then you will keep leaving me. You might come back, but you will keep leaving." Becky could see the tears welling in Nanu's eyes, and she rose from her chair and moved to sit with the smaller girl, cradling her into her bosom as Nanu tried not to cry. "Oh, Nanu, I'm sorry," she cooed. "I didn't realize how hard it was for you to be alone." "I've never been alone," sniffled the raven-haired girl, wrapping her arms around Becky's waist tightly, unwilling to let go. "My whole life, I've never been alone for so much as a day, never mind a week. It was terrifying. I'm a slave, you know." Becky caressed her fingers through Nanu's hair and kissed the top of her said. "I understand now. And I am sorry. But Mark and I wanted to talk to you about that, actually." Nanu choked back a sob and looked up at Becky, ready to hear what she had to say. "Mark and I want to bring you with us," Becky explained, using a thumb to wipe some tears from Nanu's cheek. "Come back to our time, and perhaps take you with us on our adventures." Nanu's eyes went wide. "L; leave Rome?" Becky shrugged. "Is there anyone left for you to care about?" "Well, no." Nanu admitted. "And as I've already told you, Mark and I are crazy about you, so since we cannot stay here in Rome with you, maybe you should come with us, Becky continued. "I love having you around." Nanu's face lit up at Becky's words, but then a cloud passed over her face as things occurred to her. "But I; know nothing about this place you are from. How would I live?" "Well I would teach you, of course," Becky replied, smiling. "And it'll probably be terrifying at first, since you will see things you cannot even imagine, but Mark and I will protect you and help you learn." "I; would stay with you?" Nanu asked in a voice begging for assurance. Becky nodded. "You won't leave me alone?" The blonde woman smiled. "Well, I might have to step out the door once in a while to go and get food, or go to my job, but I won't leave you alone for days at a time, I promise." Nanu returned to hugging Becky, looking off at the far wall across the atrium. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she thought about what she should do. Did she take these two up on their weird offer? Did she just ask to stay here at the villa, and take her chances about when they could visit? Did she ask to be sent back to the Flavius household? Every option terrified her. She finally looked up at Becky again and drew a deep breath. "Can we; fuck some more, while I think about it?" Becky and Mark both laughed and nodded their assent. It was the most Nanu thing Nanu had ever said. Predictably, Nanu, after much fucking and pondering, had decided to take Mark and Becky up on their offer. Delighted, Becky had declared that they would be doing some shopping first, heading into Rome to get things she wanted. Nanu was always happy to visit the city, she was always enthralled by the sights and sounds around her. "But I; I must point out something," she confessed, looking uneasy. "I know you keep saying that I need not be your slave anymore, but it is not safe for me to walk around freely, Mistress, no matter what you tell me. If you say you don't own me, I am still a slave to them. They'll put me in chains and have me on the auction block again in no time, but probably not before they do awful things to me." "She has a point, Becks," Mark started, shrugging as he fastened his tunic in place. "We may know slavery is immoral, but Rome doesn't give a shit. As far as they're concerned, you're still a patrician woman, and we're still your slaves." "Which brings up another troublesome fact," Becky sighed, building on Mark's premise. "You're the most hated individual in Rome. You defiled a Vestal Virgin;” "Pervert," Nanu said in a low voice, nudging Mark. "You made a mockery of the legal system, and turned the Colosseum into a sexual freak show. I wouldn't be surprised if every soldier in Rome had orders to skewer you on sight." "Hey, I'm not the one who dropped a giant canvas sail on the emperor's head and wiggled my tits at seventy thousand people, you know!" Mark protested. "Well, that part was fun," Becky mused, smirking, lapsing into English for a moment. "So what do we do? I want to go shopping, but without getting you killed." "Yeah, you've got a point there," Mark allowed, looking at the ground as he pondered the issue. Nanu looked back and forth between them as they spoke in their unintelligible gibberish. "Well, we either need a disguise for me, so I don't look like Bonosus anymore, or we need to jump back a few days to before we arrived, and before anyone would know us." "More of your time twists," Becky chided, holding up a finger. "Didn't you learn?" "I know what you mean, but I kinda think we did that," Mark replied. "Don't you remember how you said people were waving at you like they knew you already, and you thought that was weird? That maybe they'd mistaken you for someone else? It's kinda unlikely that they are mistaking you for anyone, Becks. You're as tall as most of the men, and you're like a living embodiment of Venus to them, with blonde hair." "I'm afraid you may be right," Becky sighed, not liking the hypothesis, but forced to admit it was probably accurate. "So we go back maybe a week before we first arrived, do our shopping, and split?" Mark turned and looked at Nanu now. "Nanu, have you been into the city of Rome any time in the last week before you met us? Or anyone from the Flavius household?" "Ooh, good catch, Mark," Becky mentioned, nodding. "Can't have her running into herself by accident, no matter how unlikely." Nanu considered for a moment and then shook her head. "No, before you arrived, it had been more than a month, I think. Master Flavius resented paying the prices they wanted in the city, he usually made us shop in Lavinium, it was cheaper." Mark shrugged. "We could probably do your shopping and find some fun, Becks. Then we'll plan our next move. Sound good?" Becky removed her outfit, letting pool around her feet before sitting down in a low chair. She held out her arms, beckoning for Nanu to join her. The Egyptian girl shed her clothing, and then went to sit naked in her blonde lover's lap, their lovely tits squashing together. They kissed for some moments before Becky smiled at Nanu. "I want to buy you some outfits, Nanu, outfits like I wear. Would you like to dress and look like mistress?" It seemed as though Nanu might faint. Becky was also pretty sure she felt the girl getting wet. She giggled and kissed Nanu's nose. "I'll take that as a yes." Rome. The litter glided through the crowded street, with people dutifully making way for it; whomever was inside was clearly important. The four dark-skinned slaves bearing it on their shoulders walked along silently, seemingly not bothered by the weight within. The litter itself was simple in design, but ornate in appearance, the canopy held aloft on carved poles, and much of it decorated with gold leaf or edging. Diaphanous curtains on all sides obscured the women within. Becky and Nanu lay on their sides, facing in toward one another. Nanu was wearing a beautiful stola, just like Becky, and she gazed down at her raiment in wonder, running a hand delicately over the fabric. Becky smiled as she watched the Egyptian girl while reaching into a bowl between them and putting a grape in her mouth. "Mistress, this is wonderful," Nanu whispered, knowing to not refer to Becky as her mistress too loudly. "I've never felt anything like this in my life, except on someone else." "Well, it's yours, and yours alone, so enjoy it," Becky said cheerfully, enjoying Nanu's elation. She put another grape between her teeth and smiled slyly. Nanu leaned in and took the grape between her own teeth, their lips touching. As Nanu masticated on the grape, Becky opened the gauze-like drapes in the back if the litter and called out gently. "How we doing back there, Mark?" "Oh, just fine, thanks so very much for asking," muttered the student-slave, who trudged along behind the litter, carrying several handbags made of linen and animal skins, filled with shopping goods. His hands and shoulders ached. How the Hell could Becky purchase so much shit in an era that didn't have electronics? "How much farther we got?" "Not too much longer, I think," mused the blonde teacher casually. She wasn't too worried about Mark having to carry stuff, he'd been through worse recently. She'd bought outfits and jewelry, pretty house furnishings, and other curios to take home. She considered what she'd need to buy for Nanu upon their return. Clothes aside, she would somehow need to procure ID for her, some sorts of medical records, and so forth. How did she get any of that done? "Will I like my new life, mistress?" Nanu asked, eating another grape. "I am sure I will love living with you, but;” Becky smiled and caressed her face lovingly. "It will be very, very different, Nanu. And at times it will seem frightening. But there are so many things I cannot wait to show you." "Then I will wait and trust you," the Egyptian girl said softly, giving herself over to her mistress' carefully in her mind. "Because I believe you when you say you love me and want the best for me." Nanu was silent for some time, as if deep in thought. "What's on your mind, darling?" Becky asked, curious. Nanu sighed. "I just miss my family. I have not seen them since I was young. And I dreamed of returning to them one day." Becky smiled. "Oh, you want t

The Time Riders: Part 8 A Date With Death. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Into the pit. Domitia was brought through the streets, which were lined with huge crowds watching her somberly. She was attended by at least twenty soldiers, who walked in silence around her. Accompanying them were her former sister Vestals and the Pontifex Maximus, one of the greatest priests in Rome and head of the state religion. It was he who ultimately was in charge of the Virgins, both choosing them and stripping them of their office if the need arose. He walked ahead of her, his face grave. Domitia wore a simple white tunic now, but all other signs of her former life were gone. Her magnificent braids were undone, and her brown hair hung down her back shamefully. The colors she'd been allowed to wear were missing. In times past, disgraced Virgins had been excoriated, possibly just beaten with a rod, but now, in the height of mighty Rome's power, the punishment was death, for endangering the city. But no one was insane enough to spill the blood of a Vestal Virgin, disgraced or not, so her execution was not so direct. She would be sent underground into a small chamber, with a stock of food and supplies, and locked in there until she starved to death, or succumbed to sickness. They weren't killing her, per se; she was merely shunned until she died. Such was the way of Imperial Rome. Her condemnation and pronouncement of her fate had already been declared, at the beginning of this long walk, meant to be a show of penitence before the face of all Rome. And as humiliated and crushed as she was, her foremost thought was about Bonosus, and his magnificent cock. Even now, being led through the streets, her cunt was wet and ached to feel him buried inside her. Before she knew it, they had arrived at their destination, a small area in the north of the city, with a plot dug into the ground. Stopping at its edge, she looked down inside; the walls were lined with wood, probably to prevent a collapse, and there seemed to be a small stool and a cot within. She heard hysterical sobbing from nearby, and turned her head to see her mother, her birth mother, Pompeneia, weeping from behind the barricade of guards and calling out to her. Domitia's heart ached for a moment, but then she turned her gaze back to the den prepared for her. Her fate was sealed. She glanced over to look at her sister Vestals, but they refused to look at her, staring ahead resolutely. She could see tears in dear Silla's eyes, though; she had hurt the Sisterhood badly, and this was how she was to pay for it. So be it. With all the dignity she could muster, Domitia swallowed her fear and stepped forward, turning and climbing down the ladder, descending roughly ten feet until she reached the earthen floor. There were small candles burning on some stone surfaces, allowing for dim light. She looked upward, and the last thing she saw was the face of the Pontifex Maximus looking down at her, his expression unreadable, before a heavy door was slammed down and locked, cutting off all light and all sound from above. She shuddered at the sound, her stomach twisting in knots. She knew that there was no way out. The door would be weighted, and guards set outside for weeks, to prevent anyone from trying to rescue her. Despite her fear, she looked around, noting the small amount of food supplies left for her, and a small, narrow hole dug in one corner where she was to relieve herself. It wouldn't do to have a Vestal Virgin stinking of shit, even a disgraced one, and even in death. The silence was almost terrifying. She slumped into the small chair left for her, shivering and biting her lip as she felt that her cunt was still wet, the sticky lips parting slightly as she spread her legs. Thoughts of Bonosus returned to her, and she couldn't help but reach down beneath her tunic and begin rubbing her fingers over herself. The fear she felt melted away as she tickled her throbbing clit and teased her warm nether lips. Domitia closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure. If she was to die in this hateful place, it would be while cumming, thinking of that magnificent cock, spurting inside her one last time; The wall opposite her creaked and opened, the stout wooden boards pulling away. Domitia almost yelped in shock, but she didn't stop playing with herself. She stared in astonishment as a tall blonde woman came inside, carrying a torch. Following her was Nanu, a slave-girl that Domitia would have sworn belonged to her parents. "Well, hello, Domitia," the blonde woman said, smiling at her. "I'm Lady Aurora Horatia, Bonosus' mistress. Are you ready to get out of here?" Domitia nodded, but then paused, reconsidering as her fingers plunged in and out of her molten cunt. "Can you; give me just a moment here?" the former Virgin asked sheepishly. Into the Arena. Mark winced and squinted as the great gate opened, allowing light to flood into the dark tunnel. The grinding and heaving of the gears that moved the iron-reinforced barriers echoed loudly, and his heart pounded in anxiety. He was almost hyperventilating, and he could feel the blood racing through his veins. Maybe taking the adrenalin tab he'd finally found stashed behind a loose brick wasn't such a good idea. And no instructions, either. He reminded himself to punch himself in the face when he saw himself again. Hey, at least he knew he survived. He felt himself shoved roughly out into the arena, looking around in bewilderment as tens of thousands of people all shouted and jeered at him. Part of the huge stadium was cast into shadow because of the giant canvas awning that covered a full third of its seating and the arena in the center. He thought it was called the Velarium, but he wasn't sure. The roaring noise of the crowds hurt his ears, and he felt dizzy. The tab's effects apparently hadn't evened out in him yet. Maybe he should have taken it earlier? Wearing his itchy burlap loincloth, a rope belt, sandals and nothing else, Mark wandered slowly toward the center of the sandy field, his cudgel in hand. The echoing sounds of the crowd were maddening, and he felt almost dizzy. What was the purpose of this damn tab, anyway? Guards approached him. His urge was to run, but where would he go? Trembling, he stood his ground and waited for them. One of them grabbed him roughly and spun him about to face something, shoving him to one knee. Mark gasped, but then looked up and paused. On the other side of the giant stadium, sitting in a shaded box, was a man wearing purple, surrounded by guards and other dignitaries. It had to be the Emperor. The most powerful man in the world. If only he knew which one it was. Maybe he could've gotten an autograph. He chuckled bitterly at his joke, but the guard holding him told him to shut up and slapped him across the back of the head. Mark's eyes snapped open and fury flared through him. He surged to his feet and his shoulder-block knocked the guard backwards, to the astonishment of the audience. The guard and another one nearby drew their weapons and were about to kill him, when trumpets blared from all around the perimeter of the Colosseum. Mark looked around warily, seeing the reaction of the crowds as the two guards withdrew. Drums sounded out now, and more trumpets. He looked over at the emperor, his eyes going wide as he noticed a familiar, stunning blonde woman in a seat next to him and watching Mark with a smirk. Kneeling beside her was Nanu. "Jesus, Becky, there's a million people in Rome; how many did you fuck?" he muttered, scowling. He heard the gates clanking open again and spun to face them, his heart racing again. From the dark tunnel strode a stout, bald man wearing leather armour on his shoulder and a metal-studded skirt, carrying a shield and wielding a small axe. "What is this, fetish night at the Colosseum?" Mark complained loudly as the man began to run toward him. Mark braced himself, watching warily. His earlier anxiety was being replaced by anger, and a desire to either flee or fight. He'd just trust to his adrenalin and hope that his future self knew what the Hell he was doing. The gladiator ran up and swung at Mark, who ducked and came up behind his foe. Before the man could turn, Mark struck him across the back of the head with his cudgel. The man crashed to the ground face-first. The crowd was yelling in outrage and astonishment. Apparently, that wasn't supposed to happen. The man showed no signs of rising, merely stirring feebly and groaning, a huge goose egg rising on the back of his head. Hastily, Mark leaned down and pulled the round wooden shield off the man's arm and pried the axe from his grip. He stood up, trying to control his breathing. His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. He looked around, making sure no one was approaching him from any other direction, but nobody seemed to be forthcoming. Where was his next foe? It dawned on him that he hadn't been expected to last beyond this first fight. They were probably scrambling to figure out what to do next. Doubtless they'd be finding another gladiator to throw at him. He chanced a glance up at Becky, but she sat still, simply watching him. He didn't blame her; she was supposed to have turned on him, after all. He did notice that she was keeping one leg crossed over the other and bouncing her thighs subtly. Maybe the hormones weren't completely out of her system yet. Or it could have just been normal horny Becky. Who knew at this point? A few seconds later, the gates on another section of the concave wall that surrounded him opened slowly, and out strode a tall man, wearing only a loincloth like himself and greaves, but carrying a weighted net in one hand, and a trident in the other. "Trident!" Mark exclaimed to himself, remembering. "That's what those fucking things are called! Now I can; Hey!" Mark had gotten distracted and only barely jumped out of the way of the retiarius, who thrust his trident, trying to skewer his foe. Mark angrily struck at the man's head with his axe, but he raised the haft of the weapon to block and Mark's axe broke on it. The crowd cheered wildly as it saw what happened. Mark stared dumbly at the splintered handle of his weapon, the iron head missing entirely, having spun off to land in the dust several inconvenient feet away. "What the shit?" Mark shouted angrily as he dodged another attack, keeping his shield between himself and his enemy. The trident's tines glanced off the face of his shield, coming perilously close to ripping open his side. "You mean I can't kill anyone? I'm timelocked from killing someone, even if they're trying to kill me?" He dodged again and scrambled for his cudgel, lying next to the first man he'd knocked unconscious. The man he was fighting was quick, though, and lunged in, jamming his weapon forward and trying to impale Mark through his stomach with it. Mark blocked with the shield, shuddering in panic as he felt the tines burst through the wood and punch out the back side, dangerously close to his belly. But the trident was caught now, and now the two men wrestled back and forth desperately, with the retiarius trying to free his weapon and Mark doing everything he could to prevent that exact thing. Suddenly he realized that he was doing exactly the wrong thing, and simply let go of his shield. The gladiator now held his trident awkwardly, weighed down as it was by the shield embedded on it, and with no safe recourse to get it back. He flailed at Mark with the weighted edges of his net, threatening to break smaller bones if he got in too close. Mark dashed for the cudgel again, and this time his opponent couldn't quickly follow him. Mark picked it up and tried putting the man on the defensive, skirting around him, looking for an opening to strike. The man glared at him balefully, swinging the net if Mark got too close. He's not armored and he can't use his weapon; Mark reminded himself. He flung his cudgel at the gladiator's face and surged in while the man was trying to block the unexpected projectile. His trident was weighted down with Mark's shield, so he was using the net frantically to avoid being struck. Mark plowed into the man and took him down to the ground, using his advantage in height and weight. His foe wheezed as he landed hard on his back, beginning to thrash as Mark straddled his chest and pummeled at him. A lucky punch got through and Mark snapped his foe's head to the side with a right across the jaw. He went to sleep. The crowds were shouting again angrily as Mark stood, recovering his stupid club and taking the man's net, since the shield was wrecked, and the trident was no use since he apparently wasn't allowed to kill anyone. How did time lock know, anyway? He bent over, trying to control his breathing and his pulse. His head was spinning again from the anxiety. What the Hell was his future self thinking, leaving that damn tab to use? What sort of advantage and futuristic superpower was panic? You're pumping adrenalin; it makes runners faster, it makes them run longer; it makes people stronger in a crisis; He opened his eyes and stood, turning around and looking at the thousands upon thousands of people who hated him. Fuck those people. He turned and looked at the emperor and held the weighted net in the air, scowling at the sovereign. "That all you got, asshole?" he shouted, feeling himself get angrier and more aggressive with every moment. Becky could barely hear what Mark was yelling over the noise of the crowds, but she shifted somewhat uncomfortably when she felt the mood of the man next to her darken. "So that's how he wants to play it, hmm?" muttered the emperor, resting his cheek against his hand. "Uppity thing, this boy of yours, Lady Horatia." "Oh, he is no longer mine, great emperor; this behavior, reprehensible as it might be, is unknown to me. Please dispose of the upstart as you see fit," Becky replied, knowing better than to be perceived as defending Mark. "You can count on that, my lady;” he replied, nodding absently as he made some vague motion to a signaler. "If you will excuse me, sire, I must depart for a moment," Becky said, trying to not sound urgent. The emperor looked at her quizzically for a moment: "You would miss his doom?" She made a show of blushing: "His life and death mean nothing to me now, but all this excitement has undone me, sire. I must go and relieve myself, because it wouldn't do to piss myself in your presence." "Very well, then," he said, nodding. "But try to be back soon." Becky stood and bowed before exiting the emperor's spectator box, taking Nanu with her, pulling her along by the wrist. "My lady, is now a good time to see to such functions?" asked the Egyptian girl as she followed the blonde woman. "Is Bonosus not in great danger? I thought you meant to rescue him." "I can't rescue him sitting next to that pompous ass, now can I?" Becky hissed as she strode down one of the hallways. "And keep your voice down; I don't want people to know what we're doing." "Sorry, mistress," Nanu replied, blushing. She allowed herself to be dragged along for several seconds before asking her next question. "What are we doing, exactly?" "You'll see soon enough," Becky said grimly, her blue eyes flashing as she pushed through the throngs of people in the hallways that ran around the length of the Colosseum. "I hope you wore your cock-sucking lips today;” The huge man lumbered towards Mark; he was well over half a foot taller than Mark, and a whole lot heavier. Beneath his layer of fat, he was obviously muscular and very strong. He carried a shield in one hand, a wicked sword in the other. His loincloth was made of tough leather, covered in metal studs. His wide belt was also braced with metal. His right arm was protected from shoulder to wrist by a cauldron and gleaming steel plates. On his head was an intimidating helmet, the face mask looking like something out of "Mad Max: Fury Road," with a peaked top that sported what looked like a curved metal blade or sail. It looked like he was wearing a can opener on his head. "Fuck;” Mark whined to himself as he stood his ground, trying to figure out how he was going to keep from getting killed. He held his cudgel and his net, trying to look threatening, but the gorilla coming at him didn't seem to care. He jumped out of the way as the Samnite slashed with his sword. He tried to move in, but was sent flying backwards when the gladiator suddenly slammed the front of his shield into him. Landing on his back, Mark only had a split second to roll out of the way as the point of his foe's sword drove down into the dirt where'd he'd only just been. He kicked at the man's leg, but it held, and he scrambled away, looking to put some distance between them. "Hey, Jason Voorhies!" he called out, waving his club in the air. "Over here, candy-ass!" The gladiator turned his head to look at him while trying to wrench his blade from the hard-packed earth. He finally did so and stood upright, rolling his shoulders and striding forward again. He slashed with his blade, but Mark dodged once again and then threw his net over his foe. The Samnite got caught in it, but didn't go down, trying angrily to remove it. Mark jumped on his back and began hammering away with his stupid little club. The giant staggered about, flailing wildly to dislodge his smaller foe. The jeering from the crowd was punctuated with increasing amounts of laughter at this ridiculous spectacle. Mark hung on for dear life with one arm wrapped around the man, his other hand whacking away at the foe's helmet. But his own net was preventing the blows from being fully effective, despite the metallic ringing of his strikes. Unable to reach the pest on his back or use his weapons, the huge man simply fell backwards, hoping to crush Mark. It wasn't graceful, and it wasn't pretty, but it did stun Mark long enough to stop him from hitting his foe with his cudgel. "Oh fuck;” Mark wheezed as the Samnite rolled off him and struggled to get up while removing the netting. Mark slowly crawled away, shaking his head to stop the world from spinning. The jellied tissue that was once his lungs was on fire, and strained to get oxygen circulating through him. He heard his foe growl in frustration, and then he felt himself getting grabbed by the scruff of the neck and the back of his loincloth before being hauled completely off the ground; The crowd went wild as the gladiator threw Bonosus bodily to the ground, as if trying to crush his bones with the impact. He picked him up again and dashed him to the hard-packed earth, having given up on removing the net. Mark protected himself from the slams as best he could, but it wasn't helping much, given the strength of the man who was mauling him. The fourth time getting slammed to the ground was about Mark's limit, and the world had become nonsense around him; everything sounded like it was being played in drunken slow motion. His vision swam, and he really just wanted to take a damn nap. He shook his head trying to clear it, remembering that Becky had bought him time, so he'd best not waste it getting rag-dolled by this shit stain. While the Samnite was reaching down for him, Mark managed to roll onto his back and kicked up, hard, between the gladiator's legs. His foot found the man's crotch, and while the force of the blow was lessened by the net's interference, his foe still groaned, and his knees bent. Mark kicked again, and then once more, having finally staggered his foe. The man sank to his knees, holding his crotch. Mark couldn't see his face, but he was obviously in a great deal of pain. Mark staggered to his feet, ignoring the crowd's jeers and screams, focusing only on his foe. The gladiator was now protecting his crotch with his hands, so Mark couldn't kick him there, so he slammed the bottom of his foot into the larger man's chest, knocking him on his back, where he lay moaning. Mark stamped on his crotch for good measure. "Stop, dammit!" wailed the man. "Quit kicking me in the cock!" "Fuck you!" Mark spat, scowling. His chest was on fire and his entire body throbbed in pain. "You were trying to kill me, fuckface! Why should I give a shit what you think?" "I'll stop, I'll stop!" the man pleaded, writhing under the net and totally at Mark's mercy. "Just don't wreck my cock, I was gonna fuck tonight!" "Yeah, right," Mark sneered. "Who were you gonna fuck?" Mark spun as he heard an ululating war cry, and his eyes widened as he saw a woman running toward him, carrying a whip in one hand and a sword in the other. Her spiked hair was wet with blue woad paste, and her eyes were mad with battle lust. "Her;” the Samnite indicated. Becky and Nanu were both on their knees, mouths bobbing back and forth on the cocks of the men they had leaning back against the wall, groaning and pumping their hips. Neither of the men could believe their luck; they thought this would be another boring day for measly pay. From up here, they couldn't even see the action down in the arena well. Sulus and Catullus, two former merchant marines, were charged with keeping the Velarium in place during the spectacles. Their extensive experience with canvas sails made them ideal for this tedious but essential work. At least, that's what they were told, despite the thirty asses a day they received proclaiming otherwise. So imagine their good fortune and delight when this patrician woman and her slave-girl happened to wander on up, espy the two men, and offer to suck their cocks, without even charging them anything! Talk about Saturnalia in Quintilis! Nanu moaned as she swirled her tongue around the head of the cock she was sucking on, holding it by the base of the shaft, her eyes closed. This seemed like an odd time to be doing something like this, but Lady Aurora had been quite firm that it was part of the plan. So be it. Besides, that strange little patch her new mistress had affixed to the skin under her arm was making her so horny right now. Kneeling beside the slave, Becky's free hand reached out and took hold of Nanu's, giving it a squeeze. They continued pushing their wet mouths along the lengths of the throbbing shafts, both girls getting wetter and more aroused with each passing moment. Nanu pulled her mouth off the cock for a moment, sucking in air and breathing heavily as she massaged it with her tiny hand. Her face was flushed as she looked over at her new mistress, her eyes glazed with desire. Becky nodded her assent. Nanu stood quickly and lifted the long trails of her garment, exposing her ass and cunt to the man she'd been servicing. She turned around and leaned back against him, squirming her ass against his cock, making him moan loudly. With great need, she grabbed hold of his tool and speared herself down on it, sighing loudly before beginning to wiggle back and forth on him, shivering as he slid in and out of her. Becky rose to her feet soon after, moving around to face Nanu and leaning forward, with her hands on the slave-girl's shoulders and looking into her eyes. The marine got behind Becky and gripped her hips, pushing inside her. Becky moaned into Nanu's mouth as she kissed her, their tongues tangling hungrily while their tits squirmed and rubbed together. The men held tight and fucked the two women as hard as they could, looking to cum as quickly as possible. Hips smacked against asses and moans grew louder. Becky and Nanu now panted through an open-mouthed kiss, their hands groping one another in need. The Egyptian girl pressed back as hard as she could on the cock she was impaled on, while Becky ground in eager circles, yearning for release. Seconds later they were wailing into one another's mouths, shuddering in ecstasy as the men groaned and began pumping cum inside their wanton pussies. Becky and Nanu were relentless, milking the men for all they were worth, until they slumped to the stone floor, almost insensate from the orgasms these strange women had given them. Straddling the marines now, and facing into one another, Becky and Nanu continued kissing and fondling, even as they moved slowly up and down on the rigid poles they'd been fucking. "Umm, mistress;” Nanu said dreamily, lost in Becky's blue eyes. "I know, my love," Becky murmured, giving Nanu many light kisses on the lips, as if she was unable to help herself. "But we must; smooch; get ready to; do our part; smooch; and rescue Mark;” Nanu pulled back from the kiss and looked up in confusion. "Mark?" "Bonosus," Becky corrected herself, waving it off. "I'll explain later. Now help me get ready;” The crowd was howling with laughter as Mark ran around the arena in a panic, chased by the gladiatrix, who cracked her whip at him, screeching for him to get his ass back there so she could kick it. Mark didn't need oppositional defiance disorder to ignore her demands. The tip of that whip was cracking awfully close behind him. The Samnite he'd downed earlier grunted and flopped down again as Mark stamped on his back while running over him. "Don't try to get up, asshole, you promised!" Mark shouted angrily. "If you do, I don't care if she's trying to kill me, I'll come over there and kick you in the balls so hard you'll be spitting them out!" "Okay! Okay!" the man shouted back, lying on his stomach and waiting. "But I hope she catches you and rips your skin off to wear as a cloak!" "Oh, go sit on a Doric column!" Mark grumbled, deking to the left to try to throw her off. At this point, the crowd was chanting something, what he could only Assume Was Her Name "Achilleia! Achilleia!" "What is that, Latin for Psycho Hose-Beast?" Mark complained loudly, noticing that he had not gained any ground on his foe. He only had the stupid cudgel, whereas she had a wicked sword and a goddam whip. He had the distinct impression he couldn't tire her; she had the look of a woman on a murder mission; her eyes were wild with bloodlust, the scream escaping her lips singing of his gory doom. "She's the greatest female gladiator in Rome!" called out the Samnite, still watching from his confines beneath the net. "She's been more than a match for many men who have fought her!" "Singing my praises doesn't get you more cunt than normal, Rullus!" Achilleia snapped, still chasing her quarry. Gods, this slave could run! Pity she had to kill him, he was well-built and had a great ass! She pressed harder, now swiping with her sword, since using her whip slowed her down some. Like most gladiators, she was wearing little armour, only leather greaves, a leather loincloth, an abbreviated leather cuirass that exposed her midriff but held her tits in place, and a leather cauldron and brace on one arm. A steel fillet around her forehead glittered with glass beads, off-setting her wild blue death-hawk hair. She whooped in triumph as the tip of her sword tore open the back of his loincloth and it fell away, leaving Mark completely exposed as he fled for his life. The crowd was laughing hysterically again. "Dammit, I hate freeballing when I'm running!" he shouted angrily, grimacing as his balls slapped around his thighs. "You have no idea how uncomfortable this is!" "Stop running then, coward!" Achilleia taunted, enjoying the view even as she tried to kill him. "I only offer the bliss of death! One red kiss of my blade across your throat, slave, and you; Off!" Done with running, Mark stopped very suddenly and braced himself, hunkering down so that Achilleia plowed into him, completely unprepared. She staggered backward and Mark whirled and grappled onto her, preventing her from using her weapons. The gladiatrix snarled and tried to knee him in the crotch, but he kept his legs judiciously in the way. They tottered and staggered about, vying for control, until they tripped over the Samnite, who was helpless to avoid them. "Oh Fuck!" he wheezed as they landed on him and then rolled off, still tussling. "Welcome to my world, dickface!" Mark shouted back at him, still wrestling with Achilleia, who meant to murder him repeatedly. Out of desperation, and with the effects of the tab still coursing through his blood, he picked her up bodily and threw her to the ground, her sword clattering away. He dropped to his knees instantly, smacking her in the face with his scrotum. "Teabag!" he shouted before whirling around and grappling onto her, trying to subdue her. He hated the thought of punching a woman, but she was trying to eviscerate him, so an exception might be in order. Achilleia was a veteran of the gladiator pits, however, and not so easily dealt with. She recovered and thrashed around, screeching and trying to claw her foe's eyes out. He swatted the whip from her hands before she could strike him with it. Mark found her increasingly difficult to manage, using his weight on top of her body to keep her in place. That plan went south, however, when she wrapped her legs around his waist and began rocking back and forth, until she was on top. They rolled around in the dust while the crowd went insane. Mark had her arms gripped tightly, out to the sides, which forced her body down closer to his. The wild look in her eyes chilled his blood, and she tried to bite his neck repeatedly, to tear his throat out. He countered frantically by using his head to shove hers away from his tender skin, and the result must have looked ridiculous, the two of them pushing and sparring with their heads. "Gurr, let; me; kill; you!" Achilleia hissed, struggling to maintain her balance over her stronger foe. "I'll make it quick, I promise!" "It'll feel good, I promise!" Mark sneered, butting the side of her head to knock it away. "Why would I make this easy for you?" "Gonna; rip you; a new;” Achilleia strained, pushing down harder. She then paused, her eyes going wide with shock. "What; gods, do you have a hard-on?" Mark used the momentary pause to roll her over, her arms pinned beside her head. Achilleia's eyes were still wide as she goggled up at him. Unfortunately, yes, he was hard again. Either he was developing some sort of danger fetish, or the hormones weren't quite as out of his system as he thought. They struggled and thrashed, with the look of shock on Achilleia's face becoming one of irritation, then a weird determination. She wasn't fighting about so much, and she seemed to be pushing with her hips, almost pumping with them. She glared and bit her lip. The roaring of the crowds was slowly abating as they watched the proceedings on the arena floor. What was happening? Seconds ago, the gladiatrix had been trying to kill the slave, now they were; what were they doing? Mark kept her pinned beneath him, and couldn't help but join her in squirming as they glared into one another's eyes. Achilleia was undulating her hips now, her upper body virtually motionless. Mark grimaced at the feel of the toughened leather around her middle grinding on his hard-on. "Dammit;” Achilleia growled. "Let go of my god-rotting hand so I can move my loincloth!" Mark took a chance and let go of one of her hands. It flashed down and pulled aside the leather garment before taking hold of his hard cock and guiding it to her entrance. Without another thought, Mark pushed down, deep inside her. Achilleia wailed loudly and wrapped her legs around his waist again, pulling him in deeper still. The entire Colosseum throng had gone silent as the spectators stared, stunned by what they were witnessing. All that could be heard, echoing through the giant stadium, was Achilleia's cries of pleasure. Was this really happening? "Achilleia? What the Hell?" the Samnite yelled in outrage, his girlfriend getting fucked by Rome's most hated slave mere feet away from him. "Shut up, Rullus, he's fucking huge!" Achilleia shouted back, pumping her hips wildly against Mark. The gladiator did as he was told and simply sulked, turning his head to look elsewhere. The emperor watched out stonily, not at all impressed with the turn of events his grand spectacle for the people had taken. He'd heard of the blasphemy this upstart slave had committed, and this was supposed to be a damnation of a great sin. Now it was another blasphemy. And where the Hell was Lady Aurora? He napped his fingers and one of his servants leaned in close, to see what his master wanted. "Have them all killed;” growled the emperor, determined to save face somehow. Mark thrust harder and harder, while Achilleia yelped and bucked beneath him, holding onto his back and with her legs still wrapped around his back. Nearby, Rullus was resting his helmeted head on his hand and rapping his fingers against the packed earth, trying to look bored. Not difficult for a man tangled inside a net. "Any time, you two;” he grumbled. "Oh, cram it, Linzer-head," Mark spat. "Say one more thing and I'll fuck her ass next!" "Oh!" Achilleia wailed, grinding and thrusting against Mark desperately. "I'm gonna; I ‘ Then she seized up and pushed up with all her strength, clenching her teeth so hard they might have cracked. As Rome watched on in stunned silence, the gladiatrix shrieked to the gods and came, hard. Mark shuddered and groaned, pumping profuse amounts of cum deep inside her clenching cunt. He thrust madly, emptying himself into her. Finally, they were both spent. Achilleia lay still beneath him, her chest rising and falling, skin glistening with sweat. Mark, exhausted, rested his forehead against her shoulder, too tired to defend himself if she tried to kill him now. Fortunately, his death was the farthest thing from her mind. Seconds of silence passed, before the thousands of spectators in the stands erupted into a wave of cheers and catcalls. Mark smiled and chuckled tiredly. "That can't be good;” he mused. "Nope," she agreed, sighing and biting on a knuckle as the last of the orgasm pulsed through her. "After that, they're certainly going to kill us. All of us. It doesn't matter; I would have died in the arena eventually. At least this way, I died with a cock in me and cumming hard." "Don't be so certain about that;” Mark replied, finally looking up and seeing all the gates opening and dozens of legionaries rushing toward them, spears at the ready. "Ah, I don't like this!" Nanu whined as she shimmied out along one of the corbels that held the vast awning in place. She held on like grim death as she edged forward, a small but sharp knife in one hand. "You can do it, my love," Becky said encouragingly, watching from their original position where they'd fucked the two marines. Both men were still snoozing, but she had tied their hands and feet for extra security. She would have done Nanu's job herself, but she was taller and heavier than the Egyptian girl, who stood a much better chance of succeeding than she did without snapping the braces or corbels. "Look straight ahead and ignore the sounds below." So of course, Nanu looked down. "He's fucking!" she hissed, her eyes narrowing. "He's fucking the gladiatrix that's supposed to be killing him! I may kill him! He doesn't need saving, I do!" "Nanu, focus!" Becky insisted. "Get to your position and await my signal." "Yes, mistress;” sighed the slave-girl sullenly. Once in position, Nanu held on tight, trying not to think about the dizzying heights she was suspended from. Everyone seemed like ants far below her. Except for Bonosus and his whore of a gladiator; she could see them very clearly, to the place where she could make out his throbbing cock as it thrust in and out of her unworthy cunt. He had a lot of explaining to do when this was over. The crowd was watching in stunned silence, unable to believe what they were seeing. But then Becky and Nanu heard the gladiatrix wailing as she came. Bonosus' groans of pleasure burned in Nanu's ears, while Becky just rolled her eyes, sighed and tapped her foot impatiently. Thunderous cheers erupted from the crowd; they'd come for blood and been rewarded with live pornography! Nanu was scowling still, when she noticed the gates opening and legionaries pouring out of them, converging on the five figures in the center of the arena. "Mistress;” Nanu said nervously, her anxiety for Bonosus' well-being overcoming her jealousy. "Now, Nanu!" Becky yelled, making sure her slave could hear her. She was already working frantically to cut through the thick ropes in one of the giant pulleys that moved the Velarium into position. Nanu, meanwhile, was sawing at the edge of the rope that held the corbel she was on in place. She gritted her teeth as she watched the steel knife bite through the thick fiber cable until finally it snapped free. The rope whipped about as it unraveled, causing a cascade of loosening canvas across the broad length of the famed awning. Becky, meanwhile, finished cutting through the rope in the giant pulley she'd selected, dodging hastily as it snapped and flailed about before spinning away. The giant canvas sheets comprising the Velarium buckled and gave way, while the corbels and rope masts retracted rapidly. "Mistress!" Nanu keened, holding on like grim death as the corbel she was on, no longer held in place by the giant ropes, snapped back toward the solid stone walls of the Colosseum. "Jump, Nanu!" Becky called out, standing on the edge of the wall and holding her arms out. "I'll catch you! Trust mistress!" Nanu squeezed her eyes shut and jumped; Becky wheezed as she caught the flying girl, tumbling to the floor with her and holding her tight. Nanu was shivering in her grasp, so Becky just held her for a few seconds and caressed her raven hair. The slave-girl looked up at her savior and nodded, so Becky stood them up, listening to the shrieks of panic as the Velarium floated down relentlessly. "Teamwork, Nanu!" she said excitedly as they stood. "Let's see what happens next!" In the Arena. Mark faced one direction warily, while Rullus and Achilleia stood behind him, squaring off against other legionaries who were closing in. The original gladiator and the retiarius were also conscious and now stood with them, brandishing what weapons they could. Mark felt silly sporting only his cudgel, but it seemed dumb to not let the gladiators have the weapons they were trained with. His cock was still hard, and leaking cum from the tip. He saw Achilleia slowly turning her head to look down at it longingly. "Eyes front, Achilleia!" he snapped, not in the mood to die. She returned to glaring balefully at the encroaching soldiers. There must have been a hundred of the legionaries. That was twenty-to-one odds. He decided to not mention that to his enemies-turned-allies, since he wasn't sure if they understood ratios in any event. If their math was as poor as their hygiene, why bother? "When I thought I'd die in the emperor's sight, this isn't how I pictured it," Rullus growled, brandishing his sword. "I hadn't envisioned dying for that cocksucker at all," Achilleia replied, spitting in contempt at the foes in front of her. "Damned if I'm gonna give him the satisfaction of a clean kill. People will remember this day, to his embarrassment!" The legionaries advanced, the circle tightening. They were protected by their large scutum body shields, and their spears pointed threateningly at the little rebel group. Mark wasn't sure what good he would do here, since he was armed with a club smaller than his dick, and he was the only untrained gladiator. But then he noticed rippling movement above, looked up and grinned. The velarium became dislodged from its moorings and like a vast sail or flag, began floating down over the stadium. People noticed, began screeching in panic, and stampeding. "Right on, Becks;” he said with satisfaction as his day began to look up. The emperor looked up, scowling as he saw the giant canvas sheet descending, fluttering menacingly as it enveloped the upper levels of seating. Panic ensued, with people scampering around pell-mell, trying to escape. "I really hate the gods;” he thought darkly as the canvas touched down around him and everything went to shit. Becky, standing on the edge of the wall and looking down over the chaos and mayhem she had caused, with tens of thousands thrown into panic, cackled gaily and clapped her hands before yanking down her top to expose her tits and holding her arms wide and yelling loudly across her kingdom of madness. "Are you not entertained?" she shouted, reveling in her triumph. God, she'd always wanted to use that line. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" Mark shouted as he and his new allies raced down the hallway, shooing everyone in front of him. "Faster, if you wanna live!" The legionaries had forgotten all about the little group of rebels once the madness ensued, racing toward the emperor to rescue him. Mark used the opportunity to escape, bringing his former foes with him. He wasn't terribly interested in seeing them die, and they might prove very useful in getting out of here in one piece. Rullus had led them through a small, little-known door in the wall of the arena, one used generally only by pit masters to monitor the proceedings. His titan frame barely fit in it, but he led the way dutifully. "Where are we going?" Achillea asked, happy to be escaping, but at least wanting to know what the plan was. She had her whip and her sword in hand again. "The most convenient, flat and open space you know of beneath the Colosseum," Mark replied, hurrying along behind her. "A place almost no one knows about or uses." "One of the old training spaces," grunted Rullus. "It hasn't been used in years. Follow me!" Their course took them deeper beneath the stadium, through winding halls and narrow corridors and staircases. They finally reached a wide chamber, in the middle of which stood Becky, Nanu and Domitia. The former Vestal and the slave-girl seemed stunned to see the small party approaching, and the gladiators gaped as Lady Aurora and her slave ran into one another's arms, kissing deeply and feverishly, speaking in some unknown tongue. "Right!" Mark said, finally disengaging from Becky's tongue as he looked around, eyes flashing with determination. "I know this is going to sound weird, but I need you all to trust me. We're going to get you out of here, as quickly as we can." "How?" asked the Retiarius, looking about warily. "They'll find us eventually!" "I know, and what I'm going to say will sound like magic, but just run with it, okay?" Mark replied, walking over to the Holmes Field Device, which Becky had been kind enough to retrieve. He wasn't sure how, but she was better with this temporal shit than he was. And they trusted one another by now. "This contraption will get us out of here, but it's not big enough for all of us at once. I'm gonna take Lady Aurora and Domitia first, then come back for a few more, then the last load." Rullus nodded: "You spared my life, and I entrust you with it. Achilleia and I will go last, holding the room if the enemy comes." "Oh, Rullus;” Achilleia sighed, looking up at the hulking gladiator, her expression a dreamy one, before she suddenly scowled and smacked him on the back of his helmeted head. "You romantic asshole." Mark left them to argue while he hustled Becky and Domitia onto the platform, which was already switched on, lights and readings blinking around the surface. Becky swatted Domitia's hand as she tried to touch a dial. "You know where we're going?" he asked, hoping she had a better handle on this than he did. She nodded, smiling. "Leave it to me, Mark. I think you'll like this solution;” The climate was certainly a change from that of Rome, but it was also a pleasant experience in its own right. The city around them, built of red brick, sandy-colored stone, and studded with stately palm trees, reminded Mark of eastern cities in every movie he'd ever seen. Beyond the walls stretched endless expanses of desert, in which the city stood as a shining jewel in a vast sea of scorching sand. He didn't know why Becky knew to park the machine where she did, but he also knew she had figured out how to use his Holmes Field Device on her own, so he wasn't questioning it. Safe from prying eyes, and after two more trips back to the Colosseum to gather the other rebels, Mark now found himself in an ancient temple in the shape of a ziggurat, with priestesses standing in front of them and bowing. Unlike the Vestals, the white garments of these priestesses were delightfully spare, exposing more than it covered. "Lady Aurora Horatia," one of them said humbly. "Your timing is fortuitous, and we gladly accept your offer. Domitia will be given a new life as a priestess of Nanaya, or as she is known in your tongue, Suadela." The priestesses all walked up to Domitia and kissed her, welcoming her into their sisterhood. The former Vestal shed tears, not in sorrow, but because she had a new beginning. Nanaya, as the goddess was known in this far-flung province, was an ancient Sumerian goddess of sensuality and lust. When the Romans had conquered the land, they readily identified her with Suadela, to keep the peace. The priestess smiled at Mark and Becky again. "And for your generous donation of gold, we will take on your four friends here, to guard our temple, as the garrison makes no effort to do so. They are now, in their own way, lifelong servants and devotees of the goddess." The four gladiators beamed proudly. Since serving Nanaya, even as guardians of her temple, meant food, lodging and getting laid by her harlot-priestesses, they were more than amenable to the idea. "Lady Aurora," Domitia intoned, taking Becky's hands in hers and smiling slyly. "Will you consent to Bonosus and yourself being the first to receive my blessings as a priestess of Nanaya?" "I wouldn't have it any other way, my dear;” Becky purred, pulling Domitia into her arms and kissing her deeply. A small villa in Roman Italy; Mark sipped wine from a goblet while Becky lay nearby on a couch, wearing nothing while Nanu sat on a small stool and massaged her feet. The sultry afternoon suited everyone, and they were finally at peace. "Helluva trip, Becks," Mark mused, draining his glass and then pouring more for himself. "You've gotten really good with the Holmes Field Device now. I seriously thought it was me who left the adrenalin tab for my discovery under the Colosseum, but it was actually you." "Sorry to scare you there," Becky sighed, as Nanu worked on her toes individually, sometimes even kissing them as she rubbed oil into them. "I found them in our tab supply, and thought it was our best bet. I just jumped behind a few hours when no one was around and stashed them in that cell for you." "So it wasn't even me coming back from the future to save myself," Mark chuckled. "Here I was so confident that I'd lived, that I couldn't be killed because future-self was looking out for me, but no, it was current you. So I could've been killed at any point, even if time lock kept me from killing anyone else." "It was a little bit messy, but you did survive, and that's what counts." Becky pointed out, caressing one of her tits lazily while enjoying Nanu's exquisite touch. "So what're we gonna do with her?" Mark asked, referencing the Egyptian slave-girl. Nanu had gotten used to her mistress and her manservant speaking in this weird, harsh language, and thought nothing of it anymore; when they needed her, they spoke Latin or her own tongue to her. Becky sighed contentedly and puddled further into the couch. Nanu's foot massages were utter bliss. "I was considering letting her stay here, and simply look after this little villa I bought for me. Whenever we visited, we'd just come back as close to the time we left as possible, but I have no idea if we could guarantee time snarls not getting in the way. So I'm bringing her home with me." Mark raised an eyebrow. "That a good idea? Or even possible?" Becky shrugged. "If she can't be brought with us, the Holmes Field Device won't work, right? So we care for her here. If it does allow it, I'll keep her with me in my house and teach her about her new world. I'll just say she's a foreign student bunking with me." "Literally, I might add." Mark quipped, holding up his goblet and winking. "Oh, you," Becky giggled while Nanu shed her clothes and crawled over Becky, straddling her hips and beginning to squirm their pussies together slowly. "I don't think she's gonna give up on the notion of being my slave-girl any time soon; it seems to make her feel safe. If she asks about you as a slave, I'll say I freed you." "Well, I was pretty enslaved to you for a while there," Mark chuckled. "Funny, I remember being so in love with you while those tabs were in effect, and I remember it fondly. But at this point, I'm just back to feeling like you're my dear friend, and I love you, just not in love any more, ya' know?" Becky sighed and nodded as she placed her hands gently on Nanu's tits and caressed them while undulating beneath the slave-girl. "I know what you mean. Talk about exhilarating, right? We should do that again at some point, just for funsies." "I'm in," Mark agreed, as his cock hardened from watching the two girls make love. He put down his wine, stood up and moved in behind them, kneeling at the bottom of the couch and sinking his cock deep inside Becky, making her moan as he started to slide in and out of her. "And what about our other acquisitions?" he asked, caressing and squeezing Nanu's ass while he fucked his Physics teacher. "Uh, the clothes we'll keep at my place, for future use," she breathed, loving the feel of Nanu's moist cunt on hers while Mark fucked deeply. She felt Nanu shiver and gasp as Mark pulled out of her and pushed into the slave-girl. "And I bought those big amphorae of Falernian wine, there's twenty-six liters in each. We'll bury them where we know nature has never been disturbed back in our time, and then retrieve them. Voila, Roman wine for dinner every night." "I'm gonna have fun explaining that to my parents;” Mark chuckled as he slid back into Becky, making her cry out. Dinner with Family. Dhallyla stared at the liquid in her glass in wonder while her family sat at the table for dinner. It was quite unlike anything she'd ever tasted before. "Mark, what; what did you say this was called again?" she asked. He shrugged as he ate. "It's a Roman-style wine, called Falernian. Lots of people are recreating ancient alcohol recipes now, so I thought we'd give this a shot. Pretty nice, hmm?" "Very strong," his sister Roxy rasped as she put down her wine glass and made a bit of a face. "Very, very strong." "That's why the Romans and Greeks mixed their wine with water," he chuckled. "Some Roman talked about not being able to bring an open flame near wine because it could catch fire. So I mixed it with water, like the instructions said. Sorry if it's still strong." "Where did you get this again?" his father asked. "Ren Faire," he said easily. "All sorts of brewers and people showing off their wine and beer skills these days at them, so I thought I'd give it a shot, ya' know? Bought a couple of bottles." "It's certainly different, but I can grow to like it," his mother mused. "Make sure you get more before we run out." "I can do that," Mark replied cheerfully. Later that night, he was sitting at his desk in his room, surfing for eras to visit during their next adventure, when the door to his room clicked shut. He turned his head to see his sister leaning back against the door, looking at him pointedly. "Something I can do for you, Rox?" he asked plainly, keeping his eyes on his research. "Now that you mention it, yeah," she said, folding her arms and wearing that insufferable smirk of hers. She never stopped reminding him who the elder sibling was. "So I did some looking around online, and there hasn't been a Ren Faire within five hundred miles of us in the last six months." Mark paused in his surfing and slowly turned to look at his sister. "So," she said, walking slowly toward him. "I figure it's about time you told me what the Hell is really going on;” Loose ends, scores to settle, a moral quandaries abound! It's Your Own Fault You Snooped! Mark didn't speak for several seconds, trying his best to not gape at Roxy. She'd always been somewhat suspicious of him when he did just about anything, but the fact that she'd done actual research this time was something new. She had played her hand, and he was cornered. But still, he found himself not sure what to say. "Well, c'mon, you little trouser snake," moving away from the door and sauntering toward him. She could tell she'd caught him dead to rights about something, but now she needed to find out what it was. "Ya' might as well 'fess up, because I somehow doubt you want mom and dad to know what you're up to." The mere thought brought a shiver to Mark and left a cold sweat on his brow. He swallowed, trying not to panic. Roxy had less mercy in a sibling confrontation than Mike Tyson had in the ring. He thought of the number of times she'd beaten his ass for tattling on her when they were younger, and how she'd always get some brutal form of revenge he was unlikely to forget. And he dreaded the thought of how she could screw this up for him. "I'm almost not wanting to find out, at least for a while, because watching your mind flop around in panic is kinda fun," she said, smirking as she stopped in front of him and leaned forward. "But I need to make a decision about whether the 'rents oughta know, so let's speed this up, okay?" She then turned and sat on the edge of his bed, leaning back on her hands, one leg crossed over the other as she looked at him pointedly. "Spill it, little brother." His mind raced. What could he tell her? She'd caught him in a flat-out lie that he had acquired his Falernian wine from a Ren Faire, and had no doubt pieced together that his other recent exotic acquisitions were likewise not from where he'd claimed. So what were her suspicions? She no doubt was assuming, quite reasonably, that he was involved in some illicit activity that

The Time Riders: Part 7 Becoming A Slave Owner. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Cast of Characters: Mark Simmons: 18 year old High School grad, enamored with Miss Becky Fischer. He finds the time machine and builds a new life. Uses various aliases in traveling. Rebecca 'Becky' Fischer: Mark's Physics teacher. Very intelligent, in her later twenties, Shapely Tall Blonde, lusty bisexual, D Cup tits. Martial arts expert, Uses various aliases in traveling. Henri: Claims to be a French physician and Apothicary. Chester Edgerton: Time traveling mentor, living in 17th Century French village. Cardinal Richelieu: ‘The Red Duke'. Statesman and Roman Catholic Cardinal. Dispises Queen Anne. Alexandra D'Assaut ('Alexa', or 'Lexi': Lady in waiting (and trusted advisor) to Queen Anne of France, Lusty bisexual, Very Tall, Busty DD tits, long golden blonde hair, Blue eyed. Lisette: servant (and lover) of Lady Alexandra, young, bespeckled brown eyes. Short, shapely, with wavy dark hair, bisexual. Dhallyla: Mark's mother. Roxy: Mark's sister. Nanu: An Egyptian slave of Pompeneia Flavius, purchased by Becky, dark complexion. Pompeneia: Roman hostess of Orgies. Lusty wife of Flavius, Mother of Domitia, bisexual, tall and shapely. Flavius: Roman aristocrat, husband of Pompeneia, protective father of Dometia, Domitia: Lusty young daughter of Pompeneia and Flavius. A pledged Vestal Virgin, Escapes to Sumeria when sentenced to death by starvation by Roman court. Pompeneia looked at Nanu and spoke to her somewhat tersely. "You are now owned by the Lady Aurora Horatia, who has purchased you at a fair price from me. Such belongings as you might have, girl, will be leaving with you when the Lady departs. Understood?" Nanu's eyes widened and she felt her heart suddenly pounding in her chest in shock and delight. Unable to contain her smile, she nodded eagerly. Pompeneia looked back at her guest and smiled. "She is all yours, my lady." Becky looked at Nanu and smirked, making a shooing motion with her hand. "Well, what are you waiting for, girl? Go find that lazybones Bonosus and tell him." Nanu was gone in a flash. Becky turned to look at Pompeneia and smiled wickedly as she leaned her back down on the couch and wiggled her way between Pompeneia's hips, so that her mouth was at her hostess' cunt. "Now, how about I find another way to thank you for your generosity?" she purred as she began sliding her tongue along those sticky lips; Mark was wandering through the darkened rooms of the parts of the house not currently being used by the orgy, still looking for a damn lavatory. Why the Hell did the Romans have such fucked-up house layouts? He'd passed about ten servants' bedrooms already; was he just supposed to piss on one of them? He paused as he heard a quiet noise, one he recognized quickly as sighing. It had been coming from a room nearby, and it was definitely a girl's sigh. Or a really femmy boy slave. You couldn't guess in ancient Rome. Either way, he decided to investigate. He tiptoed forward, looking into various dark rooms he'd passed. He heard another sigh, and then something more akin to a moan. He smiled slyly, identifying the room it had finally come from. He crept up and peered around the open wooden doors to look inside; She had her back to him, but inside the dark chamber, which was obviously a bedroom, was a young woman, with her face seemingly pressed to the far wall, and squirming her hips beneath her expensive clothing and beginning to pant. She had voluminous brown hair worn up on her head, exposing a shapely neck, and her stola dress had ridden up high enough to expose her lush ass cheeks, which were quivering and squeezing while she fingered herself. Grinning, Mark leaned against the door frame and just watched quietly. He wasn't beyond a good show. A tiny point of light near her head finally showed Mark what she was doing; there was a small hole in the wall, big enough for her to see through, and she was clearly watching the orgy happening on the other side. She was also clearly having a great time getting off to it. He liked the sight of her, at least, what he could readily see; she had a great ass, a slender back and shapely legs. Her dark brown hair, worn in several braids, was just begging to be pulled on. He couldn't see her cunt from here, but he could definitely hear how wet she was. He quietly entered the room and glided up behind her. She smelled of iris and roses, a perfume he found thrilling, especially here in this dark room, both of them unseen by the scores of others in the villa. His cock, still hard and throbbing, couldn't wait to be buried deep inside her. He moved in close and pressed up against her, his rigid shaft sliding between her legs. She shuddered in shock and drew in a breath, as if she was about to scream; but he quickly and gently clamped his hand over her mouth and wrapped his other hand around her waist. Her moved his head next to her ear. "You don't need to scream or be frightened," he whispered, feeling her still shaking. "I am the Lady Aurora's servant Bonosus, and I just want to be with you this day;” She turned her head, her eyes wide, as she tried to see him, his hand still loosely over her mouth. Her body was still stiff in possible panic, but she hadn't cried out yet. He smiled at her, trying to assure her he meant no harm. "If I let go of your mouth, will you scream?" he asked. The girl shook her head. For whatever reason, Mark believed her, and removed his hand from her mouth, and his arm from around her waist. She didn't run, but she threw herself against the wall she was standing next to, almost clutching at it as she turned around to face him. Her eyes were still wide, and he could see she was breathing heavily. "See? I'm not gonna hurt you," Mark said, smiling cheerfully. Staying pressed against the wall for safety, she looked him up and down slowly, noticing now that he was quite naked. Her eyes lingered on his erect cock for several seconds, as if captivated by it. He could now see her from the front, and what he was looking at pleased him; she had a pretty face, certainly. Not exotic, like Nanu, nor was she as striking and just plain gorgeous as Becky, but it was a pretty face nonetheless. Her eyes were brown, her cheekbones high, and her mouth sensual and full. The face; he knew it. Lady Pompeneia and Master Flavius! This must be their daughter. He continued looking at her body, noting now that her entire outfit was askew; not only had her dress been pushed up around her hips in front, to allow her to finger herself, but the top of her dress was pulled down, no doubt so that she could play with her pert tits. They were not large, but looked perfectly full on her slender frame, capped with brown aureoles and nipples, which were still hard. She had a tiny waist and womanly hips. He was going to enjoy fucking her. "My name is Bonosus, like I said," he repeated, moving in a tiny bit closer to her. She didn't try to escape, but perhaps flattened herself a little more against the wall. He tried not to seem so forceful. And odd thing, since he was at an orgy, and was already used to just fucking whomever he liked. "Would you tell me your name?" She finally spoke, her voice low and quiet. "My name is Domitia. I am the daughter of your hosts, the Master and Mistress Flavius." "I am very happy to meet you, Domitia," he said, smiling and nodding. In his ear, he could hear the implant translate her name as 'she who is tamed'. He suddenly had a very good feeling about this encounter. "In the name of my mistress' goddess, Feronia, I would ask you to join me in making love." "You; you are kind, Bonosus," she stammered, her face pale, but a flush in her cheeks. Her eyes were no longer wide, but turning glassy. "But I must; I shouldn't;” "I thought today was a day where all people cast aside their inhibitions, and did exactly as they pleased," he reasoned, stepping a little closer, noticing that she did not attempt to move away from him. "I already saw you looking through that hole there;” Now Domitia blushed furiously, turning her head to look at the ground. "I am ashamed; I should not; I shouldn't have been;” "What were you looking at, anyway?" he queried, pressing himself against her, his cock now flat against her belly, separated from her skin only by the fine material of her stola. She shivered as she felt his cock press to her, and her hands reached up and flexed, without touching him. Leaning over her shoulder, her wondrous scent in his nostrils, he closed one eye and peered through the tiny hole in the ochre-painted wall. He smiled slyly as he could see that the hole looked out on the palaestra, the courtyard in which he and Becky (and several others) had been fucking earlier. Even now, he could see a man bending a slave girl over in the shallow pool and fucking her from behind, while two women beyond the pool were lying opposite each other, legs scissored and slithering their pussies together. One of them was sucking on the cock of a slave who leaned over her, moaning and fondling her tits. "Well, you were enjoying yourself, clearly," Mark mused, turning and smirking at her. She looked at him, trying to smile back, but then just blushing and looking at the ground again. At least she wasn't trying to leave anymore. "Would you like to watch through the hole again while I fuck you from behind?" Something in his suggestion made her tense very suddenly, and she looked at him again, her eyes now wide. "I; shouldn't; no, my parents must not know I'm here, they; I should return to my domicile." "Are you married?" he asked, thinking that even if she was, she had showed up at her parents' orgy and was making herself cum, even if she'd been hiding. Marriage didn't seem to be a barrier during an orgy, near as he could tell. By his count, he'd already fucked at least four married patrician women and three plebeian women today. "Yes! No! I;” she stammered, blushing again and closing her eyes. Against her will, she inhaled deeply, taking in his raw, animal scent. Gods, he smelled divinely of sexuality, of carnality, of; heated fucking. It made her instantly wet, and her body trembled in need. "I cannot;” He smiled slyly and could tell that she wanted to stay. Even though she was protesting, he could already feel her hips pressing forward, squirming against him, desperate to finish what she was started when she was alone. She wanted to cum with him. "Then don't say anything," he whispered to her, his hands on her hips now. She shuddered again, her eyes wide and glassy as she gazed up at him. "Let me take care of this for you, Domitia;” He couldn't be sure, but the thought she nodded almost imperceptibly. Her felt her tits press forward against him. Her name means 'She who is tamed'; He took both her wrists in one hand and lifted them, pinning them against the wall over her head. She gasped and shivered, seemingly cowed by his superior strength. Her hips squirmed against him again, her tits heaving as she almost began to pant. Her eyes were flashing now, and he could see lust in them, almost as if it was forbidden and impure. He would give her what she wanted, that was certain. Domitia sucked in her breath as he put his free hand on her tit and fondled her, the soft skin yielding before his touch, his palm brushing over the hard nipple. Domitia bit her lip as she tried to remain quiet, her whole body trembling with a need for release. Mark caressed her other tit as well, pinching the nipple and pulling on it gently, making the brown-haired girl whimper and squeeze her eyes shut. "No; uh;” she gasped. His hand now found her waist and undid the cotton strip that belted the stola, letting it fall away. Domitia was breathing heavily now, especially when he began to pull her dress down, revealing more and more of her body. She gasped loudly as she felt his hard cock pressed against her belly now. She pushed her tits against his chest, squirming with urgency. Her protests made less and less sense by the moment, although he surmised it was just for show. Girls did that sometimes. At least, that's what Becky and other girls he'd fucked had told him. Domitia seemed to be no exception. Her stola now pooled around her ankles, revealing her body. The one flickering brazier in the corner of the room revealed that he had seen correctly; she had a lovely body. Not an erotic fantasy like Becky's, which was the product of the modern era of vitamins, yogurt, quinoa, hemp seeds and CrossFit, but still lush and attractive, and currently given to a deep-seated lust he wanted to fulfill. Her eyes were flashing as they stared up into his, her tits heaving. She bared her teeth as he reached down and cupped her cunt, which was now dripping wet. His finger slid up and down her length, finding her clit and eliciting a gasp. Her hands, still pinned above her head, flexed compulsively. She was breathing heavily now. "Keep your arms above your head," Mark said firmly as he released them and brought his hand down, both of them reaching behind her and taking hold of her ass cheeks. Domitia almost hissed as he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. She had readily obeyed, and kept her arms over her head, as if they were still pinned there. Her submission to him seemed very real and complete. Looking into her eyes, he held her steady, leaning her back against the wall while one of his hands guided his cock to her wet entrance. One he felt the engorged tip nestle against her lips, he placed his hand back on her ass cheek and began to push; Domitia breathed deeply as he penetrated, but then shook and whimpered as he encountered a barrier. Mark paused, but then felt her push her hips against him, and proceeded to lean forward against the wall. She shook and cried out, and Mark suddenly slipped deep inside her warmth easily. Holy shit, she'd been a virgin; awesome! She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face against his neck, trembling almost uncontrollably. Seconds later, she lifted her face and look up at him, her eyes glassy. Whatever pain she'd been feeling was clearly gone, now. He could, on the other hand, feel a single, warm trickle of a fluid down the underside of his cock, and the air smelled slightly of pennies now. "You have made me a woman," she murmured, still staring at him. "Let us finish this wondrous coupling now. Fuck me, Bonosus, servant of Lady Horatia;” She put her arms back above her head again, her wrists crossed, as a sign of his power over her. Mark nodded and began pumping slowly, sliding his cock in and out of her. Domitia trembled again, at the feel of him inside her, hard and throbbing, her cunt squeezing around him. She sighed loudly, eyes still locked with his. "A girl could die this way, and happily;” she breathed, squirming her tits against his chest. It was a bit of a strange thing to say, he thought, maybe a little morbid, but teen girls were like that sometimes, with the weird, poetic drama. He'd fucked a goth chick once, and she was; Domitia grunted and began pumping back against him lustily, all her fears of their fucking obviously gone. She was hissing through her teeth, grinding her hips against him as he made a sawing motion with his, pushing deep inside her wanton cunt. He could feel her cunt tightening around him as she found their rhythm, slippery and getting wetter by the moment. She jammed her lips against his and kissed him feverishly, their tongues wrestling between their mouths. He held her tighter, thumping her against the wall each time he thrust his cock deep inside her. She moaned into his mouth, and her warm skin was getting damp with sweat as he took her. She might have been a virgin mere moments ago, but her carnal desires would not be denied anymore. Domitia pushed back for all she was worth, her arms finally coming down and gripping his back. They were still kissing in a frenzy, and Mark was breathing through his nose, his hips smacking against hers. Domitia panted and moaned into his mouth with each thrust, her fingernails raking his back as she fought to get him ever deeper inside her. Her need almost baffled him, because he could feel the head of his cock battering her cervix each time he drove home. The wet sucking sounds her cunt made filled the room, even over the sounds of their groans. Mark was growing warm now, and he could feel that the sex tabs he'd used had already replenished his cum, deep inside his balls. When he did bust, this girl's first experience would see her overflowing with cum, his cum, and it would be glorious. He wanted to bring her out of hiding and over to the orgy. He wanted to fuck her at the same time as he fucked Becky and Nanu. Domitia seized up suddenly, shaking around him and screaming into his mouth while her cunt clenched him ferociously. He kissed her hard, making sure she didn't alert the whole house, and fucked her harder than ever, making her wail into his mouth again. He could feel his own body heating up rapidly, the distinct, tingling boiling in his balls letting him now that orgasm was now unstoppable. Mark pulled her hard against him, pressing into her as far as he could, straining and arching his back. The floodgates burst and he began filling Domitia with his pearly cum, and she panted and almost growled at the release. She churned and writhed on his cock, her frothy essence smearing his entire groin. He felt the peristaltic motions of his inner muscles, spurting his cum up his cock and deep inside his lover, a glorious, blessed release. Best. Orgy. Ever. He sagged against her, breathing heavily, while Domitia went limp in his grip, sighing in deep pleasure. She was no longer raking her fingernails over his back but caressing it gently, almost reverently. It was kind of backwards, since he was supposedly a slave and she was a patrician's daughter, but what the hey, she was a total subbie, right? She purred as she kissed his damp skin, still undulating her hips against him and squeezing his cock gently with her gooey cunt. He held her close, his forehead against her neck while he tried to regain his breath. This orgy was barely half over. There was so much to; The screech from behind them froze his blood instantly. He went rigid for several moments, before his head snapped around and he looked to see who was in the doorway. Gazing at the entwined pair in astonishment, bordering on horror, was Nanu. Still quite naked, her face was frozen in shock, her mouth working soundlessly. Confusion engulfed him, wondering what had caused the slave-girl to have such a caustic reaction to what she'd seen. Was it jealousy? It couldn't be that; she'd watched him fuck plenty of other women today. He looked back at Domitia, and saw that she had frozen as well, pale with what could only be described as terror about their discovery. That confused him too. What the Hell was happening here? Endless feet seemed to come stampeding toward them, and cries of shock now echoed through the house. Master Flavius surged through the door and stopped dead, his eyes wide as dinner plates. "Domitia!" he said in a quavering voice, pointing a trembling finger at the duo. "What are you;" Lady Pompeneia, accompanied by Becky, now bustled into the room. The matron stopped dead upon seeing them, her body shaking. Becky's eyes went wide. "Oh, shit;” she muttered in English. "Father!" Domitia called out, still impaled on Mark's cock, but looking over his shoulder at her parents. "Mother, I;” She made to move, but Mark's tool shifted inside her, and she gasped in pleasure and began wriggling furiously, fucking him again despite their ever-growing audience. People cried out in shock, and Lady Pompeneia's eyes rolled into her head before she fell to the floor in a dead faint. The cacophony grew, with Mark staring in confusion and Domitia grunting like an animal as she fucked her way to ecstasy again, seemingly unable to stop. A patrician woman entered and shrieked, scandalized by what she saw. "The slave!" she called out, aghast. "He has defiled one of Vesta's Virgins!" As if in response, Domitia shook and arched her back, wailing loudly as she came. "Seize that man!" shouted Flavius, his face purple with fury. Free men and slaves both surged forward, grappling onto Mark and trying to yank him away. But Domitia would not be pried off him, howling in protest and still grinding herself madly on his cock, squealing through another orgasm, even as they led the pair away. Most of the crowd followed them out, still clamoring loudly. Some women helped the swooning Pompeneia to her feet, and led her out of the room. Soon, the only people left were Becky and Nanu, who stood in the doorway. The slave-girl stared at her new mistress, who shrugged rather helplessly. Nanu turned and followed the crowd, leaving Becky alone in the room. It was eerily quiet now, the noise of the crazed crowd getting increasingly distant; people yelling in outrage, punctuated by the distinct sounds of Domitia cumming yet again, loudly. Becky finally hung her head for a moment, shaking it and smiling. "Oh, I can't wait to see how this turns out;” she said to herself as she walked out the door. The Wrath of Rome The mightiest city in the world, lord of Europa, teeming with untold citizens, slaves and foreigners. Blessed by Jupiter, greatest of the gods, and fed by the ancient Tiber River, Rome stood glorious and invincible, crowned with seven hills like jewels. Not that Mark could see any of that from his tiny, stinky little prison cell. He sat on the dirty floor, sighing despondently as he looked through the iron bars that separated him from the rest of the world. He'd found a corner that was not sticky with the effluences of previous inhabitants of the cell, crouching up with his knees to his chest. He suspected that the tab he was wearing would protect him from disease and sickness, but he'd be damned if he was taking any chances. He heard grunting and groaning from the cells behind him, then an absolutely disgusting series of splattering noises as someone began crapping themselves messily. He wrinkled his nose in revulsion and stared along the bottom of the wall, making sure nothing was likely to seep through. He turned his head and stared blankly across the small hallway at the cell opposite. Out of the darkness, a deranged, naked man appeared, his wild, scraggly beard greying and caked with God-knows-what. He cackled at Mark and helicoptered his cock at the new prisoner, all the while trying to shake the bars of his cell. Mark shook his head and looked away, finding a spot on the wall to stare at. He noted some graffiti, in Latin, brown with age; it was either dried blood or shit, but he decided he didn't care enough about what it said to get closer. He'd taken off the ratty tunic they'd given him, because it stank and had things crawling in it. Since he'd been arrested and dragged off naked from the Flavius villa, with Domitia still impaled on him, they'd eventually attempted to cover him up; somewhat difficult, since he was suffering from what was essentially medically induced priapism. Even now, he gazed down between his legs, noticing that his cock was still rock-hard. Had the tab malfunctioned? Was he supposed to stay erect this long? What the Hell kind of sex were they having in the twenty-eighth century that a guy needed to stay hard for a day and a night? He closed his eyes and pressed his head against his forearms, trying to figure out how it had all gone wrong; how the Hell was he supposed to know that there was a Vestal Virgin hiding in the damn house and masturbating? He'd heard of Vestal Virgins, of course, but he knew nothing about them. He'd paid attention in History class only moderately more than he had in Physics. Seemingly, he'd done an incredibly bad thing. Like 'fucking a pastor's blind virgin daughter on the altar' kind of bad. As decadent as Rome might have been, you didn't mess with their Vestals. He wished Becky was here. He hadn't seen her since he'd been dragged away from the villa, and he hoped she was okay. He had no idea if she was going to be in trouble or not, since she was supposed to be his owner. He groaned and shook his head, wishing he'd just wake up and this was all a dream; “Damn!” "Shut up in there!" said one guard harshly as he walked by. "Gonna make me, tough guy?" Mark grumbled, once the chip in his head had translated what the guard said, even though he could've probably figured it out on his own. The guard whirled around and stuck his arm through the bars, trying to hit Mark with the cudgel he was carrying. Mark hurriedly dodged out of the way and grabbed the club from the man's hand; the guard's eyes widened as Mark glared down at him, much taller than his would-be assailant. Mark was just over six feet, while the Roman was maybe five-three. The man's gaze dropped to Mark's erection, which pointed at him angrily. "Listen, pal," Mark growled, beyond caring about his hard-on at this point. "Try that again, and I'll shove this club of yours so far up your ass that you'll have splinters in your tongue for a month. Got it?" The man nodded hastily, his face pale. "Good," Mark grunted, shoving the cudgel bac through the bars at him. "Now fuck off and leave me alone." The guard hurried away while the crazy guy across from Mark cackled again and babbled incoherently at his retreating form. Mark slumped back down and continued moping. He'd been in this little crap-hole for the best part of a day now, without food or a chance to relieve himself, unless he chose to piss on the floor. He felt rather justified in sulking. Several minutes passed before he was interrupted once again. "Well, you look pretty grumpy for someone who spent most of yesterday getting laid;” chimed a sweet voice. Mark's eyes flicked open and he stood up hastily, gawking at his Physics teacher, who stood outside his cell, smiling at him in amusement. "Becks!" he said hastily, wiping at himself as if he had clothes on, forgetting that he was naked. "Hi! Uh; I'm glad you're okay!" "It's good to see you too, handsome," she replied, her eyes trailing down to his erection. She was wearing the elegant stola and accoutrements of a patrician woman now, much more modest than her attire just the day before. "Guess your hormones haven't worn off yet, hmm?" "Oh, he's got a mind of his own," Mark muttered, blushing slightly. "Trust me, the lynch mob was quite a libidoectomy. Where've you been?" "Well, once you got carted off, I thought I'd better take a look into what was likely to happen to everyone involved," she stated, seemingly not that concerned. "Roman litigation is a weird thing. They have trials, and you'll have a lawyer appointed to you, but the court of public opinion really counts as well, it seems." "So, I really screwed up when I fucked one of their Vestal Virgins?" Mark asked, trying not to sweat. Becky smiled. "Mark, you had no way of knowing, because she never should have been there to begin with. Vestal Virgins don't, in theory, belong to their parents any more, after they're selected for the honor. For her to be hiding in a room in her parents' house, jilling off, is a huge breach of her vows already, never mind getting caught with you bruising her brainstem." Mark thought about that for a moment. "So; Domitia's in trouble too?" "She's in even more trouble than you, to be honest," replied the teacher, shrugging. "You, you're some shmuck slave who got lucky. Her, she broke Rome's most sacred vows. She might as well have squatted over and peed on the Sacred Flame they protect, to extinguish it. Everyone associates the Vestals with the spiritual well-being of Rome itself. If one of the Virgins is impure, it's bad for Rome." "Damn;” he said under his breath, frowning at the floor. "Well, what about you? Are you in shit at all, because you're my owner?" "Well, not so far," Becky mused. "I'm sure that can change at a moment's notice, if anything goes really wrong." "Really wrong?" Mark exclaimed, gesturing to the cell around him in exasperation. "If this is only moderately wrong, I'd hate to see what's really wrong you're going on about!" "Oh, don't be such a drama llama," she cooed, waving dismissively. "We'll figure this out." "Are you okay, Becks?" he asked, making a wry face as he looked at her. "Last time we were in trouble like this, you kinda She-Hulked out on everyone, remember? You kicked at least five people in the crotch, one of whom was Cardinal Richelieu." "Yeah," she said almost wistfully. "I think my system is flooded with hormones from those tabs, and they're making me pretty mellow. I'm still in love with you right now, for instance." "Well, not to exploit your chemical imbalance here, but what are the chances of you doing something to make sure the man you're in love with doesn't die in this cell?" Mark said rather insistently. "Oh, you won't die in this cell," Becky pointed out. "The Romans weren't big on imprisonment at this point in their history. They're probably either gonna behead you or crucify you." "Becks!" Mark said loudly, going pale and beginning to panic. "You can't let them behead me, I like my head where it is!" "Yes, you are rather attached to it," she giggled. "And don't worry about getting crucified, only I'm allowed to nail you, after all. And speaking of;” She slinked forward, smiling saucily at him, lifting the hem of her long stola, revealing her wet cunt beneath. She turned around, presenting her shapely ass to him and swaying it back and forth while looking over her shoulder at him. "How about you put that stout nail of yours in my tool box?" she purred. "Now?" he exclaimed. "Not like you have anything else to do at the moment, Mark," she pointed out, still wiggling at him. "Move up to the bars and stick it out here;” Ignoring his exasperation, Mark sighed and pressed himself up against the bards, his rigid cock sticking out the other side. Becky lined up her sticky cunt with the head and pushed herself back on it, sighing in bliss as she did. Mark trembled as he penetrated her, having to admit to himself that it felt good to be inside his teacher. Becky closed her eyes as began squirming back against him, sliding his hardness in and out of her cunt. Eighteen hours without sex had felt like eighteen years, no doubt due to the hormones from the tabs. She guessed that their bodies, new to these stimulants from the far future, were not acclimated to the effects just yet; not that she was complaining, mind. She groped and massaged her tits as they spilled out of the top of her stola, reveling in the feel of Mark's lovely cock splitting her wide and touching deep inside. She stood up and pressed back against the bars, keeping his manhood firmly locked inside herself, wiggling and swaying, but also bringing his hands around to her tits, which he now squeezed and massaged in circles, making her groan loudly. The bars kept them apart somewhat, but he was still deep inside her, and that was what counted. Until she opened her eyes and saw the crazy guy in the cell across from them, looking at her with wild eyes, his tongue lolling out of his head, and jerking his filthy cock madly. "I miss seeing your face, Mark," she decided, turning around suddenly and pressing close to him again. She made him hold the bars, steadying his throbbing cock while she sidled forward, taking him inside her cunt again, sucking in her breath. She held onto the bars as well, squirming her hips. The bars were too closely spaced together to fit her legs through and wrap them around his hips, but he was still deep enough inside her to fuck her properly. "Hmm, baby;” If any guards knew what was happening, they chose to not interfere or even be nearby. They left the wealthy patrician woman alone. Of all the places Mark had expected to fuck Becky during their temporal travels, this would have been one of the last, he had to admit. Becky pushed her lips against his, kissing him deeply and lovingly. Their tongues tangled as she fucked him, exhilarating in the feel of his hard shaft in her and knowing she was going to cum quickly, and hard. She broke the kiss and stared into his eyes, her own flashing with lust. "You gonna cum in me, Mark?" she breathed, grinding on him hard, biting her bottom lip. "I want your cum in me, baby." He nodded, breathing heavily. He'd practically forgotten about his predicament, lost in the delirium of fucking his teacher. He pumped his hips back and forth in time with her movements, her cunt tightening around him and getting wetter with every second. He felt his cock throbbing and swelling inside her. "Yes, baby," she gasped, her skin flushed pink, her body trembling as she fought to hold on a few moments longer. "Cum deep inside me, Mark; oh God;” Becky clenched her teeth and arched her back as she pushed forward with her hips, straining hard; she felt Mark push against her as hard as he could, touching her cervix, and she shuddered and moaned loudly. The dam burst and he began cumming inside her, flooding her cunt with his desire. Becky shivered in pleasure, squeezing around him. They both sighed as the orgasm finally passed, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. Her fingers knotted with his and she gave him a peck on the lips before smiling. "Feel better?" she asked. "Oddly enough, yeah," he admitted, nodding. "So what do we do now? I don't wanna die here, Becks." "I know, don't worry, we'll figure it out," she replied, caressing his face with one hand while lowering the skirt of her stola with the other. "I've just gotta find out some things." "Can't we just bust me outta here and get out of Dodge?" he asked, not sure what the delay was. She gave him a quirky look. "Are we just supposed to leave Domitia to her fate? It's your fault she's doomed to death, you know. And there's also the matter of Nanu and what to do with her. We can't just prance around the timeline and mess up things with peoples' lives, Mark. I know you do it because you want to get laid, but there's still real consequences. You're living one of them." He sighed: "Yeah, you're right. I'm just worried." "I know you are, my love," she said gently, smiling warmly. "Just let me see what I can find out. Hang tight and stay out of trouble, okay?" She kissed him again lovingly and whispered something in his ear before sauntering out. He watched her leave and then sat back down, trying to ignore the fact that his hard-on was now sticky, on top of everything else. Getting shot by Richelieu may be have been ultimately worse, but this predicament was certainly less convenient. Some hours passed, and his mood decidedly did not improve. "Hello, my name is Faustus, and I am your legal representation during your trial," said a dull voice from beyond his cell. Mark's eyes drifted over to lay on a short, pudgy, balding man draped in a rather worn toga. He had some scrolls in a satchel he wore over his shoulder. He assessed Mark somewhat disinterestedly. "You are the slave Bonosus, yes?" Mark nodded. "And you are aware of the charges against you?" "Yup, I unknowingly boned a Vestal Virgin," Mark sighed, standing up, figuring he probably shouldn't be showing anyone any disrespect at this point. "What can I do for you, sir?" "Well, ignorance of the law is not likely to work as a defense in this particular instance, given the charge," Faustus said, tapping his satchel with his fingers. "Normally it might mitigate charges, but not where the Virgins are involved. At this point, I'm trying to spare you a cruel and painful death." "Swell," Mark said, his voice laden with apathy. "So, like, beheading instead of crucifixion sort of thing?" "Unless crucifixion is your preference, for some strange reason," replied the lawyer. "There is also the matter of your fee for my services in defending you?" Mark frowned: "I'm a slave, what am I supposed to be able to give you? Shouldn't you be talking to my owner, the Lady Aurora?" "The lady is proving difficult to contact, what with the entire city being in an uproar about you and all," Faustus reasoned, shrugging. "It may be up to you to see that my fees are met." "I don't have anything!" Mark protested somewhat angrily. Faustus trailed his gaze down Mark's well-built body, finally fixating on his erect cock and smiling lewdly. "Oh, I wouldn't say that;” Mark groaned and thunked his head against the iron bar that prevented his escape. He was wrong. This was worse than getting killed by Richelieu's men. Trial of Mark. Mark now found himself going through downtown Rome, but once again spending little time looking at the city; he was being hauled inside a cage on wheels along the Via Aurelia, with untold thousands of people lining the road, shouting, screaming and hissing at him. Rotten vegetables and rock-hard bread pelted his mobile prison, most of the projectiles not getting through to touch him. Mark didn't care. He stared out dully at the cacophony and churning masses of humanity, fully aware that his erect cock was pointing at them. He looked at the famed Palatine Hill and saw a large, rotund temple there, along with a vast manor. Outside the manor, standing on those distant steps, he saw many women dressed as Domitia had been, with their hair worn in the same style, staring down at him impassively. He almost laughed bitterly, knowing exactly who they are. No young person, ever, understood better than Mark now how important it was to pay attention to your studies. After all, it was about to cost him his head. His eyes widened when he saw Domitia dragged out the front doors of the manor by several servants and forced to look down at him. She seemed none the worse for wear, except for looking rather distraught and haggard. He saw, but could not hear her cry out at the sight of him, before being yanked back inside roughly, resisting the whole way. His lawyer, Faustus, had informed him that he'd be tried in a public court, his sentence determined there as well. If all went well, he wouldn't be made to wait long before his sentence was carried out. The waiting was the worst part, the lawyer assured him. The procession took forever, at least in his estimation. He was covered in tomato pulp and seeds, and bits of lettuce and other debris were sticking to him. "Will they at least allow me to bathe or clean up before my trial?" he'd complained to Faustus. He stank and he didn't like it. The lawyer said he'd see what he could do. On and on, his mobile prison rumbled slowly. They entered a crowded forum, surrounded by the white buildings Rome was renowned for. He saw several landmarks, but barely noted them. The presence of soldiers became heavier now, guarding against disturbances from the famously fickle and moody population of the city. They arrived at the courthouse, and he was hauled out of his cage by the chains his wrists were bound in. He ignored the cries and vitriol of the crowd, who had stopped throwing things, for fear of hitting a soldier or important person. At least there was that. He was brought into a small anteroom, where a pool sat in the center. He was unchained and shoved into it, allowed to bathe. Several Roman legionaries stood over him, one holding a whip in case Mark dawdled for any reason. Careful not to anger them, Mark cleaned himself diligently, but also as quickly as possible. When he got out of the pool, they dressed him in a plain but fresh tunic made of low-grade linen. There was one rather prominent problem, however, and the commander of the squad guarding him looked at Mark's crotch and scowled. "Does that thing ever go down?" he snapped. "Look, you're not as unhappy as I am about it," Mark shot back, exasperated about his condition. "Believe me! I had too many oysters at the orgy and now it won't go away." The commander thought about the predicament for a moment. He couldn't bring his prisoner into the courtroom sporting an erection. He finally ordered one of his men to tie a strap of linen around Mark's hips, keeping the obscene erection fixed flat against his belly. The legionaries chuckled as he was trussed, but then became serious as they prepared to lead him into the courtroom. Mark took a deep breath as he was led into the chamber that would determine his doom. Becky was squatting in a hallway, humming quietly as she sucked on the cock of a young lad who was running documents back and forth within the courthouse. He was pressed back against the wall, his eyes closed and moaning in pleasure as he let her work her magic. He didn't know exactly who this patrician woman was, but he wasn't about to stop her, either. Becky bobbed back and forth, swirling her tongue around his hardness and gently caressing his balls. She couldn't believe how horny she was! It had been more than twenty-four hours since the orgy and these sex stimulants were still wreaking havoc with her libido. If this kid lasted, maybe she could fuck him? She needed a good orgasm. A horn sounded outside the courthouse, and Becky paused mid-suck, opening her eyes and turning her head slightly to look in the direction of the noise, her cheek bulging comically as his cockhead pushed into it. The young man was still trembling and almost whimpering, even though she was distracted. "Damn, is it time for the trial already?" she exclaimed to herself before she stood up, straightened out her elegant stola and hurried down the hallway. The young paralegal gaped at her retreating form, his body trembling and his cock throbbing. "But I; I;” he protested, even though she was gone. He couldn't stop it. He whimpered and danced about on his toes, cum spurting from his aching cock. He grabbed his crotch and sighed deeply, doubling over at the release. Too late, he opened his eyes and noticed he'd spattered his jizz all over the documents he'd been bringing for the trial; "The accused is named Bonosus, a slave owned by Lady Aurora Horatia," announced one of the scribes in the room, a rotund chamber that had benches lining most of the walls, allowing for spectators. Today it was crowded, because the charges were so extraordinary. "Prior to this trial, the lady Horatia has been determined free of all guilt, with no investigation or charges needing to be brought forward." Becky, sitting near the trial stand, smiled and winked at the presiding praetor judge, an older, distinguished man, who subtly winked back at her before turning his attention back to Mark, staring sternly. Mark stood alone in the center of the rotunda, his hands and feet manacled, a single beam of wan light shining down on him from a hole in the center of the domed ceiling. He looked back at the judge blankly. "The accused is charged with disgracing a sacred virgin of the goddess, potentially putting great Rome in her disfavor, and such charges warrant only the ultimate of punishments, your honor!" declared a man in a well-embroidered toga made of exquisite fabric and trimmed in yellow. Mark assumed this was the lawyer meant to prosecute him. "For this heinous crime, Rome must be cleansed, to appear cleansed in the eyes of Vesta! We demand this Bonosus be burned at the stake!" Mark swallowed and looked at Faustus, who was sweating and wiping at his collarbone, trying not to fidget. People around the room were talking and whispering to one another. The judge looked down at the pudgy lawyer. "What say you on behalf of the accused, man?" "I;” he began, already faltering. "Your Honor, we feel that the defendant, being a mere slave ignorant of all law and education, had no way of knowing that he was indeed in contact with one of Rome's sacred girls. In that light, while we do not protest his guilt, we ask for clemency; lashes, if possible, or exile beyond the Empire's borders; but if he must die for this crime, let Great Rome show its much-famed mercy and give my client a swift beheading." People in the gallery began shouting angrily in protest at his words, while many of the advocates and adjudicates involved in the case began laughing derisively. Nobody seemed to be in Faustus' corner about this. Mark flicked his eyes up at Becky, and she was simply looking in impassively. A sinking feeling in his stomach took over his senses. Despite his fear, his cock throbbed in yearning at the sight of her. "Faustus, Faustus," chided the lawyer representing the city of Rome, shaking his head almost ruefully. "My dear Faustus, you are so good-hearted, but this defendant of yours did not simply assault one of the Sacred Virgins, he did not merely violate her chaste body, he sublimated her. He changed her! He has corrupted her! Bring in the girl!" Mark's eyes widened as Domitia was dragged into the chamber, clad in her sacred robes, but with strips of red fabric bound to her arms and around her forehead. She looked terrified, but then she saw Mark and her eyes widened. Before anyone could stop her, she broke free of the servants holding her and dashed forward, howling loudly and falling to her knees at his feet. Everyone gaped in astonishment as she lifted his tunic, releasing his cock from its confinement against his stomach, kissing and then sucking on it hungrily, plunging it all the way down her throat in crazed need. People howled in shock and outrage at the scene. Mark, who hadn't had any sex in over twenty-four hours and was in horny agony, groaned loudly despite himself and gripped her head, pumping his hips against her face desperately as people rushed toward him and tried to pull them apart. Someone finally managed to pry Domitia's mouth away from his cock, but when spectators tried to drag her away, she wildly latched her legs around his waist, grinding and humping at him in a desperate frenzy of lust, the skirt of her stola giving way and allowing her to spike herself onto him. The judge and other officials watched in bewilderment as the fracas stumbled around the rotunda, with people trying desperately to pull them apart. They were yanking at Domitia, who was panting and crying out in ecstasy, while Mark groaned in relief and need, despite the people clawing at him and punching him. One enterprising and rather stout legionary knelt beside the fornicators and grabbed hold of them, straining to separate them. Domitia's yelps and Mark's moans became desperate grunts to hold one to one another for several seconds. Eventually, though, Domitia's legs gave out and she was dragged back from him. Mark roared in protest as he shivered and came a split-second after she had been pulled off him. His cock, now released from its warm, wet confines, smacked the legionary across his nose and spat ropes of cum in his eye and across his face. He wailed at the sting and fell on the floor, kicking in panic and trying to wipe the spume out of his eyes. Domitia was finally restrained, and her mouth gagged to stop her howling. She continued to struggle, but it was no use. At last she sagged, seemingly exhausted. Mark looked around, finally noticing Lord Flavius and Lady Pompeneia in the crowd, looking on in horror and mortification. He glanced up at Becky, but she was looking at the ceiling and covering her mouth, trying not to laugh. "This!" said the prosecutor angrily, jabbing his finger first toward Mark and then at Domitia. "This is what the accused has done to one of the sacred Virgins! Turned her into an uncontrollable harlot! She is so completely undone that she cannot think of anything except quenching the fire between her wanton loins!" Many women gasped or cried out at his unprecedented words, while men muttered to one another. Lady Pompeneia looked like she was ready to faint again. "This is an outrage!" Lord Flavius shouted furiously. "We gave our daughter to the state willingly, to fulfill her destiny as a priestess of the goddess, and now we see ourselves unfairly shamed! And this; this; slave; endangers the safety of us all, calling our favor with Vesta into question!" "Do you call charges against the Lady Horatia to ruin your good name?" asked the prosecutor coolly. "Oh, no, no, of course not," Lord Flavius said hastily, shaking his head and looking over at Lady Aurora. "She remains blameless in all of this, assuredly." Becky winked at Lord Flavius, and then subtly at the prosecutor, who smiled and winked back. "Jesus, Becks;” Mark muttered, scowling at the ground. "You've been around the pool more times than Katie Ledecky since we got here;” "Silence!" boomed the judge angrily, his face still rather purple from witnessing the lewd chaos wreaked in his court. "Centurion, strike that man if he won't show respect!" Mark grunted and staggered as the centurion standing close to him cuffed him across the ear. He stayed upright, but glowered at the man. "Wanna try that while my hands aren't cuffed, asshole?" "Silence!" roared the judge, turning purple again as other guards kept Mark from jumping on his assailant. "You are a creature of vile sin!" shouted Lord Flavius from the benches, pointing a trembling finger at Mark. "Yeah? Who cares?" Mark shot back, glaring at his host. "Your wife wasn't complaining yesterday when she rode my hog to the Promised Land, was she? No complaints from your daughter, either!" Lord Flavius howled in fury as he tried to rush the floor but was restrained. Lady Pompeneia fainted again. Another guard cuffed Mark on the back of the head, staggering him again, but this time he didn't have a snappy comeback. He looked angry, but his face had a tic suddenly. People were shouting and crying out in horror at the chaos the proceedings had become. "What manner of devil are you, boy?" the judge hissed at Mark. "Oh, I'm here to fuck every woman in Rome," Mark said sarcastically, tired of this bullshit. "I meant for a Vestal Virgin to be last, ya' know, sort of the proverbial cum icing on the titty cake. But the opportunity came up, and wham, bam, thank you, Vesta;” People shrieked in outrage, and Faustus pissed himself, staring at Mark in dumbfounded horror. "That's right, gents, line 'em up!" Mark said angrily, his face still twitching. Why was he saying these things? Was the chip in his head giving him Tourette's? He wiggled his erection before the entire room, since his tunic had got caught on it when he was separated from Domitia and it was still in plain view, glistening with her spittle and cunt juice. "Bring your uppity wives and daughters to me, I'll make 'em behave!" Faustus just threw his legal scrolls in the air and stormed off. Another legionary tried to punch Mark, but he dodged the punch and rammed his forehead into the man's nose, just avoiding his helmet. The man fell backwards, holding his face. Mark might have tried to kick him, but there were suddenly ten legionaries surrounding him, their swords pointed at his throat. Mark held very still, glowering. The judged barked for the legal scrolls he was meant to consult during this trial, but they were not to be found. He yelled for them again, and a young man barged in hastily from the back door to the rotunda, and the chamber beyond, carrying armfuls of scrolls. He dumped them on the judge's stone table and scurried off without another word. The judge made to pick up one of the documents, but paused; it was sticking to another scroll. He frowned and pulled them apart, noticing that a pearly residue was the source of the problem. Worse, the scroll pages became slippery as he tried to pry them apart. The sticky substance was all over them. And his fingers now. He quietly put the parchments down and shoved them aside. Once the judge had composed himself, clearly livid about the circus his courtroom had become, and once Mark was facing him again, he leaned in and asked a question. "Do you have anything to say before your sentence is pronounced?" "Don't you think this is enough of a sham that we should just get it over with?" Mark grumbled. "What?" the judge asked, confused. "I said, how about you get this show on the road, because thousands of my potential children have a date with your mom's face tonight!" Mark snapped, jerking slightly. What the absolute fuck was happening? He wasn't speaking Latin anymore, he was speaking Greek! "You mock us by speaking Greek?" demanded the judge, rising from his chair. "Do you seek to invalidate this court?" "This court is full of invalids already!" Mark raged, the chip inside his head sputtering. Apparently one of the blows to his head had made it misfire. "Get your mother out here already! And your daughter too!" The judge slumped back on his stone chair, as if stunned by what Mark was saying. Everyone in the court was silent, waiting to see what happened next. He turned to Domitia, who was restrained nearby. "Domitia, former daughter of the Flavian household

The Time Riders: Part 6 An Orgy In Imperial Rome. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Another Time Excursion. "How's your head?" Becky asked as they walked down the hallway, gazing in wonder at the ornate mosaic that covered the floor and stretched ahead of them. The walls, no doubt made of brick, were covered in plaster, upon which colorful (and often erotic) frescoes were painted. While the clothing she was wearing in theory resembled the stola and other clothes worn by Roman women, hers was considerably abbreviated, if not downright scandalous. The white garment hung off her sensual curves, spilling away from her voluptuous tits, which could be seen through the mostly diaphanous material. Gold bracelets and bangles adorned her arms and a thin gold chain with tiny jewels sat on her ankle. She was wearing her golden-blonde hair up atop her head, but playful wisps and curls hung down in places, giving it a sassy and almost playful look. A gold-colored belt cinched in at her tiny waist, making her bust look even bigger. Mark grimaced and lightly thumped the heel of his palm against the side of his head, as if trying to jar his brain loose. "It kinda hurts, to be honest, like a buzzing headache," he muttered, waiting for his eye to stop twitching. "Who'd have thought getting advanced cybernetics installed in your noggin would hurt?" "Oh, come now, you're hardly Steve Austin," Becky chided, smiling at his outfit while they walked. "It was just a little bio-chip installed into your Broca's area to help you get by quickly with the whole language thing." "Well, if Latin is supposed to sound like the white noise on a grandpa TV combined with a mosquito buzzing in your ear, then it's working," Mark groused, wiggling his jaw to see if opening up his ear canals helped at all in getting rid of this unwelcome phenomenon. "How long did they say it usually lasted?" "Just an hour," Becky replied, stopping and fiddling with Mark's tunic, adjusting it to show off his handsome physique to best effect. The simple leather belt hung loosely on his small waist, more for contrast than anything. He was wearing very simple sandals on his feet. She hadn't had to do very much to his dark hair to achieve the look she wanted, merely tousling it after rubbing in a little olive oil, making it wavy and pleasing to look at. "Should stop any time now." And as if acceding to the lovely woman's request, the buzzing and throbbing stopped suddenly. Mark's eyes widened slightly at the sudden quiet inside his cranial grape. Becky saw his expression change and smiled, knowing what had happened. "Hmm," she purred, tracing a finger down his form and over his cock beneath his period clothes. "Estne volumen in tunica, an solum tibi libet me videre?" Mark grinned, understanding what she had said. "Ego sum laetus video vidi te!" he replied readily. "Well, I know you're happy to see these;” Becky whispered, leaning close and using a finger to tug down the edge of her barely-there clothing and exposing her tit to him, the pink nipples begging for his attention. "But;” she said, replacing the clothing and standing up again, "; we're here to take part in a Roman orgy, so we'd best get moving now that you're feeling better." Mark exhaled, composing himself after her tease, and nodded. "All right. So what's the drill again?" "Your name is Bonosus," Becky instructed, touching up his outfit again. "You're a slave from Spain, meaning that you have no rights. But don't worry, I own you, and I am very specific about who can do what with you." "So, no guy is gonna try and fuck me in the ass, right?" Mark asked somewhat nervously, smiling. Becky smiled: "Pity you won't try it, you might like it. However, no, I'll simply explain that you're off-limits to men, because you're being saved for my uncle, who is away on the German border. Me, I'm a patrician woman, visiting Rome, and I'm looking for a good time. My name is Aurora. If you really need my attention and are worried about speaking in Latin, we'll speak in English, quietly. Got it?" "Okay, what should I expect?" he queried. "I did a little research, looking for who had a reputation for throwing orgies and parties that tended to bring out the morals police," she answered, adjusting her own outfit now. Neither of them was wearing undergarments, and if the light caught the bottom portion of her so-called dress just right, Mark could see her cunt. "This villa is far enough on the outskirts of Rome that we're very unlikely to get a visit." She leaned back against the wall, smiling saucily as she drew him into her, their pelvises pressing together as she looked up at him. "So we're going to go in there, and fuck, and fuck, and fuck, with anyone and everyone we choose," she whispered in his ear. "Fuck every single girl that catches your fancy, Mark. Those anacept pills we took will cover us against all known transmitted diseases for a week, and they make us temporarily infertile. No consequences. And the tiny tabs on our skin will keep our libidos from flagging for a whole day." "That sounds great," he agreed, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Really great." "Mark, I am going to behave like I haven't since my wildest nights in college," Becky said softly, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair as she looked up into his eyes. He could feel her breathing getting heavy. She was really turned on by what they were about to do. "Are you sure you're prepared to see me like that?" Mark nodded: "I don't own you, Becks. We're time travel partners, and damned good ones. It's not like we're in love. Do what you like, I promise, it's fine." "Hmm, just when I thought you couldn't get more attractive;” she purred, pulling him in for a deep kiss while they leaned against the wall. She broke the kiss and looked up at him. "Do' you remember where all our supplies are, in case things happen to go south?" Mark nodded again. "Back in the little vestibule near the servants' rooms. I remember. Now let's do this; Mistress Aurora." "God, I could get used to hearing that," Becky sighed, shivering as she straightened up and prepared herself. "Remember; lots of drinking, eating, music, dancing and fucking. Do whatever the Hell feels good tonight, Mark, this is a real Roman orgy." She took him by the hand and smiled wickedly. "Now let's go get 'em, tiger;” Mark was laughing and drinking wine from a silver goblet, while watching a group of slave girls dance in the middle of the floor. The girls, who were clearly from all around the Empire, were whirling and cavorting about while drums and cymbals clashed out a rhythmic beat for them to follow. They wore sheer material draping down from their waists between their legs, and nothing else. Their tits bounced and jiggled about as they twirled about one another, letting out sensuous calls on occasion. The hosts of the day's festivities, a patrician man named Flavius and his lovely wife Pompeneia, were very wealthy, and they owned over five hundred slaves, spread out among three separate properties spaced around the capital. Mark had even heard tell that they owned land in Egypt and Byzantium. Wealthy indeed. There were nearly fifty proper guests, excluding slaves and attendants, so the place was fairly bustling with people. Patricians, plebeians, freedmen, freedwomen and slaves, all were to enjoy themselves tonight. And all at the request of the guest of honor, the stunning Aurora of the fabled Horatius family. Mark pried his eyes away from the dancing girls long enough to look around for his 'mistress'. He finally espied her, lying stretched out on a lectus, along with their hostess, Pompeneia, hungrily swallowing one another's tongue while they groped each other. Against all odds, 'Aurora' still had her clothes on, although only barely. Mistress Horatia Aurora had, as guest of honor, requested that in the name of the goddess Feronia, that the slaves be allowed to celebrate tonight as well, free of consequence, as long as they also performed their assigned duties. If not actively seeing to an assignment, they were allowed to sit, although they had to accede their seat to anyone of a higher station who needed it. They would also still oblige guests who wished to be serviced by the slave in question, and the Flavius household's slaves were all available to anyone who attended. Mark looked back at the dance now, seeing that it was winding down, with the girls letting out calls that there supposed to represent cranes or herons crying out for mates. That was an invitation for anyone inclined to come and take them once the dance had ended. They all fell still in various poses as the drums and cymbals stopped and the room erupted in applause and cheers for their efforts. Mark smiled as one bronze-skinned beauty on the floor caught his eye. As the dancers dispersed into the crowd, she slowly walked over to him, her deep hazel eyes liquid with passion. Mark greeted her with a cup of wine, offering it to her. "I thank you," she said in a heavy accent, her Latin speech seeming formal. "Tonight is a special night indeed, is it not?" Mark paused for a half second as the tiny chip in his brain listened to what she was saying and translated it for him. Weirder still, it translated what she was saying in her voice, but in English. Her English voice sounded quite amazing to him, and he felt a stirring in his loins as he gazed at her body. He thought of how to respond, the translation coming to him readily, in his voice, so that he knew how to sound when he said it. This technology blew his mind, somewhat literally. "Yeah," he replied in Latin, nodding as he clinked his silver goblet against hers. "I am enjoying it. You dance very well." "I have to," she replied, using two hands to bring the goblet up to her lips and sipping from it, as if she'd never had wine before. Hell, maybe she hadn't for all he knew. "If a dancer does not dance well in the Flavius household, demotion to some other task, probably much more horrible, awaits them. I need to be a good dancer, if I am to keep my coveted position." "I'm sure your masters have many coveted positions where you're concerned," Mark quipped, smirking. The girl blushed and giggled, taking another sip of her wine and looked at him. "You are slave to the Mistress Aurora, yes?" Mark nodded: "I am." "What is it like to be her slave?" she asked, looking up into his eyes. Mark was the tallest person in the room, and it wasn't going unnoticed. Becky was certainly the tallest woman, but he'd heard her jest about having German barbarians in her ancestry. Everyone laughed it off, and the party continued. Mark considered for a moment before answering. "Well, I like it a lot. Sure beats the life I was living before I became her slave." "Are you her only slave?" queried the girl, clearly more than a little intrigued. She didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that every time he wasn't speaking, Mark's eyes went down to her tits. They weren't as big as Becky's by any means, but they were still very nice, her soft light brown skin capped with darker brown aureoles and pronounced nipples. "Well, no," he lied, thinking on his feet. He hadn't really expected any questions along this line and would have to tell Becky whatever he said, so they could coordinate their stories if the matter came up. "I'm not really any good at counting, but there's always a lot of us around." "What do you do for her?" Shit, better make this simple but good; he thought to himself. "I'm her personal servant. I do all the most personal and intimate things for her. I dress her, I taste her food for her, I bathe her;” "Do you fuck her?" she inquired, looking over the rim of her silver cup as she took another drink, a deeper one this time. So this was the crux question, he realized. He simply nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh," she said in a quiet voice, as if his words were of concern for her. "Do; do her other servants fuck her?" He smirked: "None of the male ones, now that she's got me." She raised her eyebrow at his statement and took another drink. "Is that so?" Mark shook his head for a moment, as if he was remembering something. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude, I didn't ask your name." The girl made a wry face. "My name? Why would anyone ask for my name? I am a slave." Mark shrugged. "Well, so am I. Tell me your name, so I know what I'll be calling out in an hour." The girl almost choked on her wine, but recovered and looked up at him, as if assessing him. Finally she spoke: "Before I became a slave, my name was Nanu." Mark wasn't terribly surprised when the stupid chip in his head found out what the name meant. "So you're Egyptian and your name means 'pretty' or 'cute.'" She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to fathom how he could have possibly known that. "What is your mistress' name in my language?" she asked suspiciously. Mark blinked for a moment. "Khepri nebet." She moved closer to him. "What is your name, slave?" He smiled at her warmly, deciding it was time to move things along. "My name is Bonosus, Nanu, and I am the slave who is going to fuck you." Nanu smiled and reached out a hand to him. Becky panted as she rocked back and forth on her knees, pressing her face into her hostess' hairy cunt, lashing it with her tongue. Behind her, one of Pompeneia's slaves was gripping her hips and plowing his hard cock in and out of Becky, trying to keep up with her lusty pace. He wasn't nearly as large as Mark, nor was he as talented, but he would make her cum, given the environment. Becky was here to fuck in a Roman orgy, and what individual participants might lack in skill, her excitement would certainly make up for. Pompeneia moaned and gripped Becky's hair, loosening it further from its carefully piled arrangement. Becky didn't mind, though, as she expected to look fully disheveled and thoroughly fucked by the time this orgy was over. She'd had several cups of aged wine already and was feeling uninhibited, even for her. She slid two fingers inside her hostess, making her moan and churn her matronly hips while Becky took another stiff drink from her goblet. She then returned her mouth to Pompeneia's snatch, allowing rivulets of the dark wine to flow out over her engorged vulva before sucking on it hungrily, making the patrician woman gasp and groan loudly and thrash about on the lectus she was splayed on. The slave behind her pistoned his hips against her while she ground back against him, taking his cock as deep inside her as she could. She could feel him swelling and knew he was close to cumming, but she didn't mind if she didn't climax yet, because the day was young, and this orgy had barely started. There were so many people left to fuck. Besides, she could always track down her darling Mark if she needed serious attention, after all. The slave grunted and let out a low moan before he began spurting his cum inside her. Becky moaned into Pompeneia's cunt, sending her over the edge and making her cum shamelessly, her fat tits flopping about for all to see. Nobody cared, or if they did, they were delighted by it. There was no judgment at this orgy. As the slave pulled out, Becky clambered on top of Pompeneia and they kissed deeply, wrapping their arms around one another, tongues plunging. Becky finally sat up, smiling and straddling her hostess' hips. She smirked down at the Roman woman and then reached beneath herself, flexing her cunt muscles and teasing out the cum that the slave had just deposited in her. She smeared it all over Pompeneia's thatch and nether lips, before dragging her shaved twat up her lover's body, leaving a glistening and sticky trail of cum along the way. She squirmed and writhed on Pompeneia's tits, smearing them in the slave's essence while trying to get one of the nipples inside her cunt. Finally she wiggled her way up to Pompeneia's mouth, and the older woman gripped Becky's thighs and sucked on her smooth cunt hungrily, coaxing out all the cum she could from her guest. Becky smiled and reached back with one hand to finger Pompeneia's gooey cunt, bringing her to yet another climax, the fourth she'd received from Becky. The teacher had no doubt this woman would remember her very fondly. She finally clambered off Pompeneia and knelt beside her, the two of them kissing tenderly, sharing the cum from the slave between them, followed by Becky licking the residue off her lover's face. They whispered to one another before Becky stood and strutted away, knowing that Pompeneia's eyes were fixated on her glorious, toned ass. It felt good, knowing she was the object of desire for every single person in the entire household. Becky looked around in wonder, surrounded by actual Roman artwork, in a completely intact home with a glorious mosaic tile floor depicting a couple making love and then a hunting scene involving a lion. The plastered walls were painted in bright colors. The furniture, made of wood with brass fittings and comfortable cushions, was currently being put to the test as couples or groups around her fucked and made love in every conceivable position. She gazed down at the silver goblet in her hand, made of beaten silver and decorated with glass prisms and with a poem etched into its circumference. She picked up a small, sticky honey cake from a table, then took a bite from it before smiling wickedly and pressing it to her glorious tits, smearing the sticky honey all over them. As a female slave passed by, Becky took her gently by the arm and pulled her into an embrace, gently pushing her head down. The slave understood immediately and began kissing her tits, slithering her tongue around to get the gooey sweetness off Becky. The blonde woman was shivering and groaning while already smearing the honey cake against her cunt. Mark was sitting on in a low chair in a side room, holding Nanu by the waist while she bounced up and down on his lap, her arms around his shoulders and her eyes staring down into his. Her greedy cunt swallowed his cock, making her gasp and groan with each motion. Her inner muscles squeezed around him, and while Becky was definitely more skilled, and perhaps even tighter, the fact that he was actually fucking a Roman slave was an incredible thrill. She jammed her lips to his and kissed him feverishly, her fingernails raking over his back as she ground down on him, hissing and panting with lust. He found her to be incredibly exotic, and he realized that it might because he'd never met a true ethnic Egyptian before. As far as he knew, the bloodline of the ancient Egyptians had become extinct. She certainly looked exotic to him, with her deeply tan skin, hazel eyes and straight, coal-black hair. He used his strong arms to help move her up and down, almost spiking her on his cock, and her panting became a delightful yelping. There were loud cries of ecstasy from all over the house, so they paid no attention to anything else. She kissed him again before seizing up and shuddering, groaning loudly. She threw her head back and pressed her cunt down as hard as she could, cumming wildly. Mark kept pumping relentlessly, loving how her snatch clenched around him. Nanu flopped backward, her head now on the floor, arms splayed and her back arched, still pinned to Mark by his cock. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed heavily, still trembling. He smiled down at the girl, waiting for her to recover. When her eyes finally fluttered open, he took her arms and gently pulled her up to him. She almost purred and nuzzled against him, still in the throes of a sultry bliss that filled her. Nanu kissed him everywhere she could reach, including his fingertips. "You are an exquisite lover," she murmured, looking deep into his eyes and caressing his face. "No wonder your mistress needs only you for fucking." He smiled back: "I'm just happy that she doesn't mind sharing me, because I am enjoying fucking you too." She went back to kissing him gently, and was whispering things against his skin, but too softly for him to understand. She finally looked back up at him. "But you have not yet cum." Mark shook his head. "Do you fear giving me a child?" Nanu asked. He shook his head again. "Then are you barren?" "Only for this week," he quipped, grinning and enjoying her confusion at his statement. "Don't worry, I'm just conserving my strength. This orgy is a long way from over, and if I cum now, I don't know how long it will take me to recover." "Do you promise to cum in me?" Nanu asked expectantly. "I; I am just a slave, I know, but I like you, Bonosus. I want to feel your cum in me, especially if you cannot give me a child." "I think I can make that promise;” Mark replied, pulling her in for another kiss. Becky shivered as she sat on the stone bench, centered over a hole as she started to pee. She'd already cum at least six times, and she had the distinct feeling the tally would be sixty before the night was out. One woman and one man slave leaned down on either side of her and began sliding and flickering their tongues around her rock-hard nipples, making her moan in delight. She felt her legs being parted and smiled down at a freedwoman who leaned in and tongued her cunt attentively, even here in the cultus, the small, private bathroom of the Flavius family. Becky sighed and cradled the head of the woman licking her cunt, while squirming her tits against the mouths of the two slaves sucking them. The tongue of the woman between her legs sent tingles through her, and she could feel another climax building rapidly. Everything about this setting, this experience, was making her hornier and more sensitive than ever. She wrapped her arms around the necks of the man and woman sucking on her nipples and pulled them in tight, arching her back and groaning very loudly as she came, squirting into the face of the woman licking her cunt. She bucked and writhed on the seat, thankful for the anacept pills she and Mark had taken, since she'd done quite a bit of research on Roman hygiene practices. She stood finally, releasing the two slaves who were sucking on her tits, while the girl between her legs merely knelt back a little and kept her mouth pressed to Becky's cunt, massaging it with her tongue. Becky smiled down at her dreamily and winked before pulling her to her feet. They kissed deeply and then she led her out of the room, followed by the slaves. "Go and find my manservant for me," Becky instructed. "Bring him to me and I'll let him fuck you. He is a wonderful lover." The woman hurried off, while Becky found a couch and reclined, her legs spread wide. She let the male slave lap at her gooey cunt while she made out with the female. She felt so deliciously depraved in this setting, like she could let everything go and act like a harlot without consequence. Which she could. The freedwoman returned some minutes later (Becky barely remembered having sent her at this point), with Mark following. He was delightfully naked, his cock glistening with lubrication. He was holding the hand of a dark-skinned and dark-haired girl, who was clearly a slave and following behind him. The girl gaped at Becky in awe. "Hey, Becks," Mark said cheerfully in English, almost laughing as the chip in his noggin tried to translate what he was saying into Latin. "Enjoying yourself?" "Hmm, you have no idea, baby," the blonde woman purred, stretching her arms over her head so that her glorious tits thrust up toward the ceiling. "I see you've found yourself a pretty little playmate. She was one of the dancers from earlier, right?" "Yeah, I wanna see if I can somehow get all eight to fuck me at once," Mark replied, grinning. "That'll beat my record by at least a factor of; wait; you, Alexandra and her servant Lisette all at once; divided into eight;” "Don't strain yourself, Einstein," Becky said dryly. "Just suffice to say that fucking eight Roman slave-dancers at once will be more than anyone else you know will ever accomplish." "Except you, I'm betting," Mark pointed out, smirking. "Is that a challenge, young man?" Becky asked, raising her eyebrow. "What'll we wager?" he queried. He had no particular confidence that he could outfuck his Physics teacher, because she had proven to be quite a sex fiend, but he was more than willing to try, here in Imperial Rome. "Tell you what;” Becky suggested, sitting up on the couch at looking up at him, smiling lightly. "If I win, you have to let the man of my choice here in this orgy fuck you in the ass." Mark was very still, a shiver of dread going up his spine. He swallowed, waiting to hear what else she had to say. "But, if you manage to fuck more girls at one time than I take of male and female lovers at one time, I'll buy your cute little girlfriend from our host and make her ours, okay?" Mark could barely process what he was hearing. He turned his head and stared at Nanu, weighing the price of 'owning' her versus having his ass plowed by some random Roman dude. The perils of time travel. But he'd already been shot and survived, right? "You're on, Becks," he said finally. "Ya' only live once, right?" "That's the spirit," she cooed, winking at him. "Tu solum vivis unum tempus! As long as you save some of that splendid stamina and cum of yours for me. So, are you going to introduce me to your little friend?" Mark nodded and pulled the Egyptian girl forward. She seemed rather intimidated. "Becks, this is Nanu. She's Egyptian." Becky smiled kindly and patted her soft lap. Nanu let go of Mark's hand and eased herself carefully onto the blonde goddess' lap, sitting sideways. Becky put her arms around the girl's waist and looked her up and down. "Hmm, very nice, Mark;” Becky said quietly before pulling Nanu gently into her and kissing her warmly. To her credit, the slave girl did not resist at all, but melted into the kiss, moaning in pleasure. She squirmed around until she was straddling Becky, her legs hitched behind her back, and their tits squashed together. Mark stood closer and watched eagerly as their tongues tangled and they began caressing and fondling one another. Nanu shivered under Becky's divine touch, and he knew she was incredibly aroused already. Their kiss became sloppy, and they slid their tongues around one another's faces, leaving them glistening and sticky. Becky took Nanu's bottom lip in her mouth, sucking it in. The slave shivered again and let out a tiny whimper, before pulling back from the kiss and touching her fingers to the lip. She examined the fingers, noticing a trace of blood. "Yes, I bit your lip," Becky whispered to her only loud enough for Nanu and Mark to hear. "By making you bleed from our kiss, I have stated my intent to own you, Nanu. Would you like that?" Nanu's eyes widened and she nodded almost imperceptibly. "Good," Becky said, reaching between them and cupping the Egyptian girl's tit, giving it a gentle feel. "Now all my naughty little Bonosus has to do is manage to fuck all eight of you dancing girls at once in order to make that happen. You might want to help him a little;” She allowed the slave girl to stand and gave her a gentle pat on the rear. Nanu stood in front of Mark for a moment, looking up at him, and then hurried off. He then heard Becky giggling. "Goodness, Mark, how hard did you fuck her to make her fall that much in love with you already?" the blonde asked, her beautiful blue eyes glinting with mirth. Mark tried not to frown. "I didn't have to fuck her that hard, thank you. I've fucked you a lot harder on countless occasions." "And you'll have to fuck me much harder still to make me fall in love with you, handsome," she cooed, reaching out and stroking his cock gently. "It's time for my surprise. Have you put the little speaker things all around?" Mark nodded: "The switch to activate them and the music is in the little satchel we brought. I'll be ready." Becky smiled and stood up, moving close to Mark so that their bodies were pressing and his cock was nestled against her slick cunt, and already hardening from the contact. She smiled and traced a finger along his swelling cock while looking up into his eyes. "I'm glad to be here, Mark," she said softly, knowing that many sets of eyes were on them, and quite envious of them both. "But I'm mostly glad to be here sharing this with you. I couldn't have asked for a better time travel partner." They kissed tenderly for a moment before Becky pulled back and winked. "I'm gonna go get dressed; be ready for me." She scampered off, and he watched her magnificent ass wiggle away from him. He noticed he wasn't the only one staring. He wandered around and made sure that all the 'speakers' were strategically placed around the room for Becky's performance. They looked and felt like rocks, to be honest, so he had no idea how they worked. All he knew was that he'd tested them, and they did. Hell, they even had the music they were meant to play stored in them! Future-tech was really something. He remembered how they'd found a chrono-merchant, right in his hometown, in a secluded store he'd never noticed before. Chester had pointed them to the merchant in question, and he was happy to help them. Most of his time was spent helping customers from the far future, who happened to be visiting Mark and Becky's era, so having some locals was a refreshing change for him. The student and teacher had expressed their wish to go back to Imperial Rome and attend a real orgy. The man smiled slyly and showed them a range of items he thought they might need; clothing, currency, subtle but advanced medications to protect themselves; All it cost Mark was his collection of six vintage Star Wars Pez dispensers. Apparently, originals were big collector's items in the future. "Remind me to come back to you with my dad's Micronauts and Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots!" Mark had laughed. Mark felt well-prepared for this trip, and he had to admit, he was enjoying himself. He drank from his wine while standing in front of a patrician woman, who was sitting naked on a couch and slurping hungrily back and forth on his cock. He gazed around, noting the sumptuous array of foods laid out in vast quantities for the event; it was very hard for many of the slaves to restrain themselves from eating greedily, since this type of generosity was almost unknown to them. Loaves of bread, honey-cakes, dates, figs, stuffed dormice, varieties of pulses, apricots, various fish, cheeses, boar meat, olives, and caviar, which he'd heard the hostess Pompeneia brag to Becky about being sent straight from Persia. He'd never tried caviar before, and he was surprised that he actually liked it. He blinked as he felt the patrician woman pull her mouth off his throbbing cock, which she had brought back to an impressive hardness. She had then bent over the couch, in full view of everyone in the room, and shamelessly reached back and spread her ass cheeks, exposing her puckered knot and asking him to fuck her ass. Mark bit his lip, wondering what to do; Becky wouldn't be much longer in getting ready, but slaves were obliged to satisfy all favors required of them by the legitimate guests, especially the higher-ranking patricians. He couldn't say no. He stepped up and took hold of her wobbly ass cheeks, steadying his cock against her. She moaned in anticipation of him entering her. He reached down and ran his hand up and down her sloppy cunt for several seconds, and used that lubrication to prepare her ass, sticking his index finger inside her and twisting it around. The woman groaned loudly, and he realized that she was making a show of it, announcing that she was the one getting fucked by this tall, handsome and mysterious Spanish slave of Lady Aurora's. Apparently he was something of a commodity. He would fuck her ass fast and hard, making her cum, so that he could return to his assignment from Becky. He took hold of his cock and pressed the head against her little star, pushing it through. She grunted and let out a moan. Lots of people were watching, including more than a few slaves. Slowly and firmly, Mark slid his turgid phallus deep inside her, making her cry out so loudly that he was certain she could be heard outside the villa, despite all the other carnal happenings around them. Here goes nothing; He gripped her hips and leaned over her, pressing her down into the couch as she wailed again. He began pumping in and out strongly, plowing deep inside her. Clearly she was no stranger to this, because she wasn't nearly as tight as Becky. He fucked her ass in a steady rhythm, watching as his own pulsing shaft slid in and out of her. She gasped and yelped, putting on a show for those watching. Her hands kept her ass cheeks pulled wide, so everyone could see how deep inside her Mark was. Then he took the initiative. Everyone gasped as he let go of her hips and gripped both of her wrists, pulling back toward himself and arching her spine, even as he pressed forward into her more strongly with each stroke. The woman seemed to choke on her breath, shaking and looking back at him in shock. Her face was variously flushed and pale, depending on where one looked. Her eyes seemed bleary, as if she was on the verge of tears. Her erect nipples declared her arousal as her tits protruded far in front of her back-stretched arms. He rode her as though she was a bridled horse, only her two arm were the reins. The full floppy tits shook wildly with his aggressive pounding, grinding, fucking of her asshole. But she didn't object to his aggression or dominance. "Do you think Mistress Horatia lets him take her that way?" he heard one woman ask another as she gazed on in rapt wonder. "If she does, she's a lucky cunt, she is;” whispered the other woman in response. And still he plunged his cock deep inside her ass, making the woman squeal and churn beneath him, struggling to move, but pinned by his superior strength. He could tell that the other women (and most likely some men) were jealous, because they were beginning to talk shit about her quietly. "Qualem muleirculam!" whispered a man gazing one in envy. That seemed a little harsh; Mark wasn't sure she was actually a bimbo. A shameless slut, sure. But wasn't everyone here today? "Pedica meo!" she gasped, squeezing her ass around him. "Pedica meo!" Mark fucked her faster and stronger still, driving his cock deep into her bowels, until she sounded like she was having a severe asthma attack. She wheezed and struggled, but he held her immobilized. She could not escape this exquisite torture unless he let her. He could feel her tightening, though, and he knew she wouldn't last long; exactly what he wanted. He would make sure she got the show she desired. His hips began pistoning rapidly, but with even more strength. The woman's eyes rolled into her head and her mouth dropped open. Her entire body shuddered in a long wave, and she screeched, battered by endless waves of pleasure as the orgasm crashed over her. She clenched her teeth and writhed, as if trying to escape, but she had already completely surrendered to her blissful fate. Mark dropped her wrists and now gripped her long, kinky brown hair, yanking on it to pull her up. She gasped at the unexpected but glorious sting and found herself pulled up and back against him. His hips still pumped against her ass cheeks, sliding his cock deep within, while his strong hands began to grope and almost maul her flushed, sweaty body. Helpless before him, she allowed the violation readily, whimpering and in tears. "Es scortum obscenus vilis," he growled in her ear before biting it and making her writhe in need. "You are a vile, dirty little whore, aren't you?" "Etiam!" she gasped, as his hand gripped her chin and turned her face forcefully to look into his eyes. "Yes, I am a vile, dirty whore! Fuck me in my shame!" He fucked her until she was almost limp, and finally slid out of her ass, the abused knot pulling back along with his shaft obscenely, a fact noted and commented on by anyone close enough to see. She collapsed forward over the couch again, trembling, but saying nothing. Mark turned his body and caught the gaze of another woman, who hustled over, knelt and began sucking on his cock without question. He waited while she cleaned him dutifully before noticing Becky standing by a dark corner, watching in amusement. She raised an eyebrow and he nodded. Without further ado, he subtly retrieved the remote for the things that were supposed to be speakers, and held his arms up, beckoning everyone to gather in. As the naked crowd moved in, the host and hostess came and stood near him, smiling pleasantly. Pompeneia explained that they were now to be entertained by the guest of honor, who would be dancing for them all. As if on cue with her words, slaves around the room modified the intensity of the flames coming from the braziers that illuminated the room, making it dimmer and more sensual, except for an area in the central expanse. Mark subtly pressed a button on a tiny remote he was hiding in his hand. Music emanated from around the room from the concealed speakers. He'd remembered what the T E A agents had told him about anachronistic technologies and how they would rarely work in times or eras they were not known in, but he seemed to be getting away with it so far. It occurred to him that this meant the technologies he and Becky were using were not to be discovered. Yet. He smiled as Becky seemed to shift and ripple into view, because of the flickering brazier flames. The music, he knew, would be like nothing these people had ever heard before. True, it wasn't metal, but the arrangements and instruments would be alien. Not to mention the Phil Spector-esque 'Wall of Sound' involved. Becky had told him the song was called 'Gypsy', and she now spread her arms over the head, as diaphanous strips of translucent material curled sensuously around her lovely form, and gems glittered on her forehead and navel. Gold anklets tinkled on her feet. Mark had never seen 'Lord of the Dance' before, but watching Becky, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all. As wind instruments began playing while drums and strings kept a backbeat, Becky snaked and twirled around the circular space in time with the music. Everyone watched her, rapt. Mark's eyes flicked over and he saw Nanu looking on from farther back in the room, standing atop a bench to get a better view. Her eyes were wide with awe. People were still whispering as they watched; for a patrician woman to dance this way, or even know how to dance this way, was scandalous, and they loved every second of her performance. The music grew louder and more intense as the wall of sound, a concept these people couldn't even readily grasp, filled the venereum. Becky continued her cavorting, her tits bouncing about beneath the outfit she was wearing. It was more of a tease than anything, because it concealed pretty much nothing. When she kicked high, she showed her cunt to everyone. She seemingly didn't care, or was enjoying it. Probably the latter, knowing her as he did now. The music reached a crescendo and then stopped, with Becky collapsing to a sitting position, curled in on herself. The crowd clapped, cheered and catcalled enthusiastically. Seconds later, another musical piece began, this one in a style probably more familiar to the onlookers. Mark knew it was from the soundtrack of the movie 'Alexander'. It opened with tinkling chimes and what sounded like hooting bird calls. Becky slowly rose to her feet, holding an elaborate pose. Then what sounded like four hammers striking an anvil rang across the space, followed by a frenetic drum beat. Becky broke into a wild dance, spinning and prancing about with abandon. The crowd watched spellbound as the music echoed around the room. Becky's blue eyes flashed with excitement, knowing that the revelers were enchanted by her. There was no one in this room who was not sexually enthralled with her at this very moment. Even Mark, who knew her pretty much better that anyone on this planet, at any point in history, was watching her in quiet awe. It made her wet, thinking of what he'd do to her later after watching this. As she whirled in a circle close to the crowd, she took hold of a male dancer slave, and then another, leading them in the exotic and magnetic dance she now performed. Both men were naked, and she snaked her body against them, rapidly bringing them to hardness. The crowd cheered as she flung aside the strips of fabric that concealed her body, until she was as naked as the slaves. Everyone watched in astonishment as she dropped to her knees between the two men and began hungrily sucking on their cocks, each one in turn, then finally putting them both in her mouth at once, her cheeks bulging obscenely. "In the name of Suadela," breathed Pompeneia, standing next to Mark and staring dumbly. "Your mistress is the most magnificent whore I have ever seen, Bonosus." "Yeah, she's something, all right;” Mark agreed, blown away by his teacher's depravity. He thought about how much she'd been looking forward to behaving so luridly, without the consequences of biology or moral censure. She was time-travelling, for crying out loud; could there have been a better excuse? No, if he was allowed to fuck as many women as he wanted, even all at once, Becky had the right to do whatever the Hell suited her. It was a damned fool who held her to a different standard just because she was a woman. Guys who thought like that never got women as amazing as Becky. Loser incels; The music was finally ending, and he discreetly shut off the speakers with his tiny remote. Seconds later, he felt a dainty hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at Pompeneia, who smiled at him wickedly and cocked her head, indicating she should follow him. Mark took a deep breath and gently touched the nearly-invisible tab he'd put under his armpit, thankful for the vasopressin it was releasing into his system; "Heaven," Becky thought dreamily as she rode up and down slowly, the slave cock throbbing as it slid in and out of her ass. He was lying beneath her while she faced down his legs, his strong hands massaging her toned cheeks. His legs were spread to make way for another slave who knelt in front of her, thrusting back and forth to spear his rod in and out of her cunt. She groaned around the cock that was in her mouth, the freedman who owned it standing next to her beautiful face and letting her suck him. On either side, her hands were pumping vigorously on the cocks of two more slaves. "God," she thought, "I haven't done anything this wild since Frosh Week in my sophomore year. I've missed it so;” Five men at once. No regrets, no consequences. She almost giggled as she wondered where else she might fit another. Then two hands reached around from behind and began groping her ample tits, making her moan around the cock she was sucking on. Another slave had moved up behind her and settled down onto the face of the man beneath her. His hands groped her while the slave below him did something to his ass. Becky didn't care what they did to one another; she just wanted to feel as many men on her as possible. She shuddered as her nipples were pinched and she bobbed back and forth faster on the cock in her mouth, expertly swirling her tongue around the head and the shaft. Her hands twisted gently on the skin of the cocks she was holding, while she squeezed the ones inside her. She could feel them bumping against one another, separated only by a thin membrane between her cunt and ass. She gasped and almost wheezed, because they were striking deep inside her at different angles. The slave fucking her cunt was moving at an almost horizontal angle, while the one in her ass pushed straight up. It was almost; disorienting in a way. She gently pulled the two slaves she was jerking even closer, so that she could touch their cocks together, sliding them against one another. The slave behind her with his hands on her tits moved them, shifting them to her trim stomach as she pointed the two throbbing cocks at her tits, her hands stroking them rapidly. The slaves both moaned and shuddered as they spurted their cum across the expanse of her bosom, glazing the silken skin. Seconds later, she felt the cock in her mouth throb and swell, pumping a pearly offering down her throat. She swallowed hungrily, enthralled to be living her wild days all over again. Becky cried out and shook as an orgasm blossomed through her, just the first of many she planned to have in this particular tryst. Slaves leaned in and began lapping at the cum on her tits, tongues sliding along the skin or swirling around the nipples, occasionally biting and tugging on them. She leaned back, moving the man behind her to the side as she lay on the Nubian slave beneath her, still pumping in and out of her ass. She reached up and pulled the man fucking her cunt down by the shoulders, bringing him close and kissing him, their tongues rolling and wrestling about. They were both spearing up inside her now, their thrusts beginning to sync as she groaned shamelessly, filled with an exquisite wet heat. The climax that followed seconds later rocked her to her core, but she powered through it, determined to have as many more as possible. Now she let the two men fuck her while she took another hard cock in her mouth, stretching her neck back and relaxing her throat, letting it slide back and forth inside her. She gripped the hips of the man fucking her face, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the unadulterated ecstasy flowing through her, needing more men to pleasure her; Mark was sitting back lazily in the shallow pool that dominated the palaestra of the Flavian villa. He gazed around at the ornate courtyard, surrounded by columns and burgeoning with ornamental plants and trees. Exotic animals like peacocks could be seen strutting across the grass; at least, they could where none of the orgy's attendees were making merry. He sighed as a dancer girl knelt behind him and massaged his shoulders, while two others were curled up against his sides, cooing and kissing his skin. Nanu, meanwhile, was sitting in his lap, facing out and moving up and down slowly on his cock, taking it deep inside herself, her fingers flexing against his supple thighs. She turned her head to look back at him, her hazel eyes glassy with pleasure. More of her fellow dancers crowded in, until he felt himself totally enveloped in wanton slave flesh. They kissed and nipped at his skin, giggling and whispering to one another. Mark knew he was supposed to be a slave, but he seemed to be getting better treatment than a lot of the guests who weren't slaves. He imagined it was because he was the manservant of the guest of honor, but he still felt like a king at the moment. One girl dangled rich grapes in front of his mouth and he bit several off, chewing and swallowing casually. Another then brought a cup of wine to his lips and he drank from it before she leaned in and kissed him, allowing the wine to flow back and forth between their mouths. As she pulled back from the kiss, she allowed the wine to spill out of her mouth, trickling down her neck and tits. Two other girls immediately leaned in and began licking the sweet offering from her skin. Nearby, on a well-cushioned couch, Lady Pompeneia was lying on her side, quite naked, moaning as her husband propped one of her legs in the air and knelt between them, sawing his cock in and out of his wife. She drank from her goblet and watched her slaves attend to Bonosus. She closed her eyes and rubbed one of her tits as she remembered what it had felt like to have his big, sturdy cock fucking her less than an hour ago, feeling his thick, warm cum pump deep inside her. She wondered how wonderful it must be to own a servant with these incredible qualities and envied Lady Aurora. She entertained the absurd notion of trying to buy him from her, but was reasonably certain that even the emperor himself wasn't rich enough to purchase the slave outright. She'd content herself with becoming friends with Lady Aurora Horatia and perhaps then having access to Bonosus' fine obelisk of endless erotic pleasures. She watched as Nanu, churning on Bonosus' lap, shuddered, arched her back and cried out, cumming hard. Two of the other dancers were sucking her tits and she seemed in ecstasy. Not that Pompeneia blamed her; Nanu was rather tiny, and that magnificent cock had to be battering the bottom of her lungs. The Egyptian girl sagged, and one of the other dancers gently pulled her off and over to the side. Nanu was immediately replaced by another girl, who straddled Bonosus' lap, facing him and sinking down with a loud sigh. Pompeneia herself shuddered and gripped her tit tightly as a little orgasm shivered through her, while her husband moaned and pushed tight against her, cumming in her. Standing nearby, a slave helped ease his master's cock out of Pompeneia and sucked it clean. The mistress of the house sighed and caressed herself, enjoying every moment of this day. What a splendid orgy this was proving to be. She sat up slowly and looked around, seeing people in ecstasy all around her; not far away, one of the guests had a servant girl pressed up against a column, and was fucking her eagerly. She was pumping her hips against him and gasping in delight. On the emerald grass nearby, two women were laying side-by-side, arms wrapped around one another while they sucked hungrily on each other's pussies. One of her slender, boyish manservants was getting fucked in the ass by a patrician man named Pontifex, and her slave was mewling loudly. She heard laughing and joyous talk as Lady Aurora entered the palaestra, completely naked and surrounded by slaves and guests, all basking in her glorious sensuality. She sauntered over to the pool and eased herself down into it, sighing and relaxing in the cool water. Pompeneia smirked; after all the endless fucking the Lady had been doing, she was surprised there weren't clouds of steam emanating from around Aurora, as the water touched her skin. She was possibly the only person in the villa to have fucked more than her servant Bonosus. Pompeneia smiled and eased herself down onto the couch, beckoning over a slave-girl to service her. "Well, Mark, I see you've won our little wager," Becky observed, smiling at him while two slaves massaged her shoulders. She parted her legs to allow a servant girl to massage her cunt, or occasionally go under the water to kiss and nibble at it. "I managed six lovers at once. You seem to have eight." "Only if we fudge," he admitted, looking around the dancer who churned on his cock, trying to keep her moaning down so he could talk. "I can reasonably do four; one on my cock, one on my mouth, and one in each hand. I; am not gonna take any in my ass, after all." "Well, at the very least you can tie me," Becky pointed out, smirking at him. "Think and try again. You won't even need to move." Mark frowned for a moment, and then gave his teacher's words some thought; he perked up after a few moments, and then nodded. He told the girl he was fucking to lean back slightly. As she did so, he beckoned another to come and stand upright between them. The slave-girl did so, and Mark started lapping at her wet twat while the girl impaled on his cock began kissing and tonguing her ass. He paused and instructed four more to kneel by his hands. They did as asked readily. He faced them in to one another in pairs, bodies squashed close together. He then pushed his four fingers on each hand into one of them, while wiggling his thumb into the other. They all moaned, because Mark had decent-sized hands and fingers (in any day and age), and began kissing and swallowing one another's tongues hungrily. "See?" Becky giggled. "Six for six, you've matched me now." "Uh-uh!" he called out, his voice muffled by the slippery twat of the slave-girl on his mouth. "Watch this!" The women all whined in protest as Mark stood up, especially the one who had been fucking him, but he assured them that this would take only a moment before all was right with the world. He got out of the water and lay down on the grass, his frame stretched out and his throbbing cock on display, pointing at the cerulean sky overhead. His arms were spread wide and his legs slightly parted. Mark quickly brought the six girls back to their original positions, with the girl who had been using his mouth now facing down his body, to kiss and play with the one bouncing up and down on his cock. The two sets of girls resumed their places on his fingers and thumbs, kissing each other eagerly again, enjoying this strange game. He began wiggling his still-wet toes, and the last two slave-dancers caught on quickly; they took hold of his ankles and lowered their gooey pussies down onto his feet, taking them inside their slippery tunnels and moaning loudly. "Octo!" Mark yelled triumphantly from beneath the cunt squirming on his face. Becky laughed in sheer delight, clapping in support of her student's ingenuity. Others looking on laughed and applauded also. A crowd was gathering around him, but everyone made sure that Lady Aurora, who had moved to the spot just vacated by her servant, could see easily. She knelt on the low, tiled bench below the water, her elbows on the grass, the endless soft blades tickling her tits as she watched. She wiggled her shapely ass, and a slave dutifully moved up behind her and slid his cock deep inside her while she gazed on. Mark was enjoying himself; never had he guessed he would have been fucking eight girls at once, not to mention Roman slave-dancers, two of whom he was pretty sure were sisters. He wiggled his fingers, thumbs and toes, he flickered and snaked his tongue inside the girl above him, and he pushed up and down with his hips, spearing deep inside the slave-girl, who cried out in rapture as his cock split her wet cunt wide open. She arched her back and cried out loudly, cumming hard. She slumped off to the side and was quickly replaced by Nanu, who was eager for more. She churned and writhed on him, occasionally looking over at Lady Aurora, who smiled and winked at her. He could feel them all squirming and trembling now, and pushed himself harder, sending them all over the edge; several moaned loudly while the one on his face kissed Nanu deeply as they both screamed, rocked by their orgasms. The girl riding his tongue fell off to the side, shaking and holding her cunt as she moaned in pleasure. He looked over at his teacher. "Becks," he panted, his face glistening with cum and flush with need. "I'm gonna cum, but I want it to be in you. Please;” Without a moment's hesitation, Becky stood, the crystalline water cascading off her glorious body. She clambered out and all the slave-girls moved aside readily, even Nanu, who dutifully knelt beside Lady Aurora as she straddled her manservant. "Thanks for waiting for me, Mark," Becky whispered as she teased her slippery cunt lips along his cock while resting her hands on his shoulders and looking down at him. "It means so much to me." "Means everything to me too, Becks," he replied, nodding. "Wanna give 'em a show, show 'em how we do it in the twenty-first century?" The blonde beauty smiled wickedly, and without another word, shoved herself down hard on her student's cock, making them both moan loudly as he pushed deep inside her. Everyone watched in awe as the two began fucking madly, Becky thrashing her hips back and forth while he pumped up and down rapidly inside her, battering her cervix with each thrust. His hands found her bouncing tits and squeezed them, making her cry out, her fingernails digging into the meat of his shoulders. Pompeneia and her husband Master Flavius stood right beside them, watching in fascination. Nanu was caressing and massaging Lady Aurora's flanks and ass while she fucked Bonosus, her deep hazel eyes staring longingly at them. Becky rode Mark harder and harder, his throbbing cock stretching her cunt deliciously, making her want to scream. She held on though, squeezing around Mark, thrilled to know that everyone's eyes were on them, watching them fuck with wild abandon. With every thrust she squeezed her ass cheeks tight, feeling Mark shudder below her. Mark was panting and grunting as he fough

Twenty five dollars a pod and expenses   The Becks are back to talk about the epitome of the hard-boiled detective story: Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep and its 1946 adaptation by Howard Hawks. In this episode, they discuss the dentist, a possibly broken foot, and even [REDACTED]! Enjoy!   linktr.ee/soonmajorpod   ko-fi.com/soonmajorpod   Next episode homework: The Detective (1968)

#347 - Was ist los mit 2025?Mein Name ist Solveig & ich bin Coach für Menschen mit Hund. Dieses Jahr hat es in sich – nicht nur bei mir, sondern scheinbar überall. Hardy, Ares, Becks … und gefühlt höre ich von allen Seiten, dass Tiere krank sind oder gehen müssen. Vielleicht kennst du das Gefühl: Du öffnest Instagram, sprichst mit Freunden oder deiner Tierärztin – und überall scheint derzeit Krankheit, Verlust oder Abschied ein Thema zu sein. Aber warum ist das so? Ist wirklich „mehr los“ – oder nehmen wir es nur stärker wahr, weil es uns selbst trifft oder betrifft? In dieser Folge spreche ich darüber:

The Time Riders: Part 5 A Labyrinth Palace. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. The non-descript carriage had indeed made its way through Paris' winding streets, taking well over an hour to finally stop in front of the palace and allowing Mark to get out of the cramped cab before it rattled off. The sun had set some time ago, and night hung over the city heavily, the cloying air of Paris carrying the city's growing pains to his ears. Even at night, the city was not silent. Mark adjusted his outfit and marched toward the outermost gate of the vast palace, its arms spread wide and encompassing a massive courtyard. Two men wearing ornate red uniforms and holding pikes crossed their weapons at his approach, barring his entry. One of them gruffly asked him to state his business. Trusting to the plan, Mark said nothing, but merely held out one of his sealed letters, this one bearing the emblem of Richelieu. The guard examined it for several seconds, consulting with the other guard before handing it back and then opening the gate. Mark shot them both a dirty look for holding him up in his errand and then swept inside, doing his best to look haughty and full of bravado, which is what the Musketeers were apparently renowned for. He couldn't help but reflect that they seemed a lot less heroic than history let on and were more dickbags than anything else. Oh well. Faking being a dickbag was probably significantly easier than pretending to be a hero. He passed through another gate that got him closer to the palace, this one also manned by the Swiss Guard. He arrogantly presented them with the Richelieu missive, which once again satisfied their scrutiny and he was allowed to pass. He forced himself to not look around in wonder at his surroundings, instead heading straight to the great doors that would give him admittance to the palace. Alex once again presented his letter, but this time the guards squinted at him suspiciously. "Qui es tou?" demanded one of them. His throat was dry, but he answered as readily as he could, trying to sound authoritative and even haughty. "J'mappelle Benat de Ferres, of Soule, Second Company of the King's Musketeers under Monsieur de Treville. Let me through." "Fucking Basques and Gascons," muttered one of the guards in irritation. "Why would a musketeer be bringing a missive to his excellency, the Cardinal?" he demanded to know. Mark concealed his anxiety by looking pissed and rattling off one of the phrases Alexandra had given him, hoping it had the desired effect. "I have an idea, why don't we all go ask the Cardinal and you can fucking explain to him why you held up his envoy on an important errand? Does that sound good to you?" The two men looked at one another warily; the visitor was certainly obnoxious enough to be a Musketeer and a Gascon. Sighing and shaking his head in defeat, the one man handed the sealed letter back to Mark and they opened the doors, allowing him entrance. He swept by them, calling them shitheads in Spanish before the doors closed behind him. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help Gawking as he stared at the palace around him; its splendor was beyond anything he had imagined. Walls of white plaster, carved in exquisite shapes and edged in royal purple, along with gold filigree, and incredible paintings and artifacts lined the walls. Endless numbers of servants scurried by, hardly noticing him. He shut his eyes for a moment and composed himself, remembering the details Alexandra had shown him, the way through the palace. He turned and began his search for his teacher. Lisette walked primly through the halls of the palace, bowing her head deferentially to just about everyone who passed her. Wearing an elegant gown, she seemed to almost glide along the hallway, walking with a practiced ease that her mistress had taught her. She had, in three years, only been in the royal presence twice before, in attendance to Lady Alexandra. The king had barely noticed her, but Lisette didn't mind one bit, because this was far more of a life than she ever could have hoped for. She had, of course, spent much more time in the presence of the queen, because her mistress served Anne directly. Anne of Austria seemed mostly amused by Lady Alexandra's quirky servant, but she was kind to Lisette, often sending her home with gifts of chocolate. Her devotion to the queen, while not equal to her fanatic love for Lady Alexandra, meant she would die in Anne's name if necessary. She hoped it wouldn't come to that tonight, but she had made her peace with God and the Lady Mary all the same. Alexandra had set her with the task of removing or distracting every guard she could from the route Mark would take through the palace. She was not to kill anyone, nor was she to be seen in the mayhem, if at all possible. If things went wrong, she was to retreat to the queen's quarters and be seen protecting her. It was the best alibi she could hope for. A guard up ahead. He was a sullen-looking brute, not carrying the long pikes of the gate guards, but a much more practical halberd, along with a short rapier on his belt. She knew he'd be trouble. She ducked into an alcove and pulled a small phial out of her cleavage, drinking the strong red wine from it and sloshing it around in her mouth, to make sure the aroma was on her breath. Replacing the phial, she lurched back out into the hallway and sauntered toward him lazily. "Hello, beautiful," she said drunkenly, giving him a lopsided smile. "You must' be off-duty by now." "No, I am not," he grunted, not looking at her. "Go away, slut." "C'mon," Lisette persisted, leering at him as she leaned against the wall to his left. "We could be having fun. Don' you like fun?" "Duty is not meant to be fun." "But these are fun," she drawled, as she stepped in front of him and leaned forward, using her hands to pull down the front of her bodice and exposing her perky tits to the man, whose eyes went wide at the sight. "These are all the fun you'll need;” He didn't stop her as she sidled up to him, stood on her tip-toes and put her arms around his neck. Her breath was sweet with wine, her dark eyes glassy with the lack of inhibition it brought on. Her tits pressed to his chest, her hips flat to his crotch. "Take me into that room and fuck me;” she breathed huskily, her lips no more than an inch from his. "I want to feel you inside me;” The man was rather pale at her suggestion, but nodded readily and turned around to open the door. The parlor behind was empty, the perfect place for a rendezvous with this slattern. She took him by the hand and led him inside, closing the door behind them. Mark walked down the hallway, trying to not look like he was hurrying, and staying alert. He was entering a difficult part of the operation, because he was no longer in an area of the palace that led to either the king's quarters or those of Cardinal Richelieu. If anyone stopped him now, he would probably be redirected rather forcefully, and he had precious little time to waste. He walked by a door, from which he heard a moaning noise. Then he heard a familiar woman's voice, gasping and urging someone on. His translator bud wasn't close enough to hear what was being said, but he was fairly certain he knew what was happening. He subtly pushed the door open and peered inside. Mark gaped as he watched Lisette, leaning over a small table, panting while a member of the House Guard fucked her from behind, her layered skirt bunched over her ass as he pushed in and out of her. The guard remained oblivious, but she noticed the door open and flicked a glance his way. She gave him an annoyed look and jerked her head, indicating that she had this covered and he needed to keep moving. He nodded and pulled the door shut quietly before heading down the hall again. He turned a corner and then headed up some stairs, leading up to the next floor, which was apparently where Becky was being kept. He was so busy thinking about what he needed to do next that he blundered right into two guards, who grunted and then glared at him angrily. "Stupid shit!" the one man he had smacked into spat. "Watch where you are; who are you?" Mark went wide-eyed, not having expected them. His mouth seemed to work, but no sounds came forth. They blocked his ascent and continued to glare at him. "Who; are; you?" the man demanded again. Mark regained control of his voice and tried to speak. "My name is; my name is Benat;” Fuck, he'd forgotten his last name. "My name is Benat DeFlepard," he managed to say. "I am from Sully and I have' "What sort of name is DeFlepard?" snarled the one guard. "I have sealed orders," Mark interrupted, not liking where this was going. "From the Cardinal!" "Is that so?" sneered the man. "Let's see them!" Mark handed him the sealed missive scroll. The man examined it and frowned. "This is the king's seal," he growled. "What is the meaning of this?” Before the man could finish his query, Mark punched him in the face and then pulled his crème-colored tabard over his head and threw him down the stairs. The guard cursed loudly as he rolled at least two floors. Mark was too late to stop the other man from drawing his short rapier, but managed to grapple onto him, keeping himself from being run through. Mark might have been taller, but the guard was a veteran of many wars, strong and cunning. It wasn't long before he had Mark's back pressed against the wall, both men fighting for balance on the stairs. "Little shit!" he shouted, trying to press the edge of his blade against Mark's throat and slit it. They tussled, and Mark managed to wedge his arm between his neck and the rapier, feeling the sickening cold pain of the keen edge creasing his forearm. His free hand, however, snaked down to the pistol on his belt, twisting the leather until the muzzle pointed down; The stairwell echoed with a thunderous crack as Mark pulled the trigger and discharged the weapon, the iron ball punching a hole in the guard's boot and then his foot. The man groaned and staggered, releasing Mark. His ears ringing, Mark managed to shove the man down the stairs, following his comrade. He shook his head and began sprinting up the stairs, knowing the whole palace would be coming down on his head any second now. Alexandra was concealed in a secret closet in a parlor not far from the queen's quarters, listening carefully. She was wearing the red uniform of the Cardinal's personal guard, her impressive bust flattened and pulled tight with linen straps. Her golden hair was held in a ponytail while a black mask concealed her facial features. Her rapier sat on her hip and three customized pistols were concealed around her person, along with several knives balanced for throwing. She heard the discharge of a firearm, followed by shouts of alarm and fright. She hung her head and sighed. She'd been hoping it wouldn't come to this, but there seemed to be nothing for it. She would see her obligation met. Alexandra crossed herself and exited the hidden space, heading toward the Cardinal's quarters, determined to cause a distraction for Mark as he went in the opposite direction to rescue Rebecca. It was all in God's hands now. All she could hope was that Mark had remembered what his name was. Mark raced down the hallway, ignoring people who poked their heads out of various rooms and parlors to see what all the commotion was, before closing their doors and locking them in panic at the sight of him. He had his sword in one hand, his pistol in the other. Having discharged his shot already and having no idea how to readily and safely reload the damn thing, the pistol was mostly for intimidation purposes at this point. Thankfully, if he pointed it at people, they tended to make themselves scarce. A guard rushed around the corner, his halberd in hand, but Mark smashed the ornate swept hilt of his rapier into his mouth, which dissolved in a welter of blood, lips and gum before he burbled and fell over. Mark kept running. He shoulder-blocked his way past another guard, but then found himself confronted by a small group of angry servant girls, who kept swearing in French and throwing bread rolls and potatoes at him. Covering his head, he sprinted past them, resisting the urge to take a swipe at the uppity wenches. There was the room! He raced up to it and tried to open the door, but it was locked. Given the amount of noise and commotion he was causing, he shouldn't have been surprised. He stepped back and then slammed the heel of his sturdy boot into the door with all his might, knocking it out of its frame and falling to the floor. He rushed inside, looking around for his teacher, but she was nowhere in sight. That's when the heavy vase smashed into the back of his head. He was on his face on the floor, reality swimming around him. He heard someone hissing at him as he was handled roughly by his neck and his tunic. He was turned onto his back and someone was straddling him now, their supple legs on either side of his throat and their heavy skirt bunched up between their legs, allowing him to goggle up at his assaulter. "Becky! Stop! Stop, I; Ow! Jesus! Quit Hitting Me! It's Me, Mark!" The flurry of fists halted and then there was a pause thick with confusion. He felt his cheeks being gripped tightly, immobilizing his face and then his neck pulled up so that whoever was sitting on him could look at him. "Mark?" Becky exclaimed in disbelief. "Mark! Oh my God!" She began smothering him with feverish kisses, still straddling him. Still dizzy, he was in no particular shape to stop her, in spite of the fact the whole palace was on its way to kill him. His eyes finally managed to focus, and he looked up at her. "I've missed you too, Becks, but can you let me up, please?" Becky blinked and then jumped off him hastily, helping him to his feet. She still seemed stunned to see him, not that he blamed her. "How?" she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief and wet with emotion. "You; you were." "Dead? Yeah, kinda." "The how are you here?" she asked, trembling. He shrugged. "To quote Neil De Grasse-Tyson, science, bitches." "Oh, it doesn't matter," she exhaled, crushing herself to him and hugging tight, her body shaking with raw emotion. "You're back, Mark. You came back for me;” He smiled and hugged her back, his hand on the back of her head. "Well sure I did. You're my time-travelling partner, aren't you? Can't leave you here with these smelly savages." She laugh-choked back a sob and look up at him, her eyes leaking tears onto her scarlet cheeks. "And we're gonna get out of here and; Becks, are you, like, really drunk?" Her expression of delight warped into a scowl at his query and she pushed herself away from him. "Well what do you expect? I only spent the past month trying to kill myself with alcohol while you were taking your unscheduled nap, you jerk!" "I'm sorry," he faltered, knowing that this couldn't possibly be the right time to make her angry, on so many levels. "Let me get you out of here and then I'll explain everything." "Hang on;” she huffed, stomping over to a table and grabbing her bottle of wine, tilting her head back and taking a stiff pull from it gulping loudly. Mark made a wan face and fidgeted, acutely aware of the time they were losing. "Becks, no offense, but I'm pretty sure every guard in Paris is looking for me right now, and I' "Sounds like more of a you problem than a me problem," she grunted, attempting to drain the bottle with several loud glucks. "Nobody was trying to kill me while I was here." "No, you seem to have that covered;” he said dryly. She shot him a nasty look, but didn't stop drinking. "Look, we need to go," he insisted. "Pretty sure Alexandra's risking her neck to make sure I can' "Alexandra?" Becky interrupted, stopping drinking to look at him pointedly. "The gorgeous blonde I want to fuck?" "I; sure," Mark replied, trying to keep up. "Pretty sure she and Lisette are' "Who's Lisette?" Becky asked suspiciously, lurching toward him. She was quite a bit drunker than he'd initially thought. "It doesn't matter," he declared, determined to get moving before Richelieu arrested and shot his ass again. "We need to get' Mark winced in fear as she surged toward him, the bottle raised over her head. She flew by him and smashed the bottle down on the head of a guard who had barged into the room. His eyes rolled up into his head and he went to sleep. "Weren't you drunk moments ago?" Mark asked in disbelief. "Looks like you're the one who need rescuing." Becky shot back. "You were half a second away from having an exit wound the size of an airport runway in your chest just now." Another guard sprang around the corner. Becky, who was closest to the door, kicked him savagely between the legs. The man staggered to a stop and stiffened, but didn't fall over, the impact of her foot cushioned by the many layers of baroque skirt she was wearing, not to mention the dainty, padded slipper. As the man gaped at her, she kicked him between the legs again, but her skirt interfered, softening the blow to the place where he merely doubled over from the ache. Becky snarled angrily, lunged in, grabbed him by the neck and DDT him, almost as smoothly as ‘Jake the Snake' did to fellow pro wrestlers. This time he stayed down. "Jerk!" she muttered, glaring at the man. Without a second thought, she used a knife on the man's belt to tear layers of skirt away, leaving herself clad only in the bodice and skimpy underwear, with garters holding up the silk stockings she wore. She knelt on the unconscious man's back and pulled his boots off, replacing her slippers with the sturdier footwear. She then stripped his rapier and pistol from his person before turning to look at Mark. "You ready now?" she asked pointedly, standing there in what basically amounted to negligee and musketeer boots, while holding a rapier and a wheellock pistol. He gaped at her for a moment, unable to say anything. "You have no idea how stupidly sexy you look right now, Becks." Mark managed to say. "I'll believe it when Alexandra says it to me," she sniffed, turning and heading out the door. "Let's go, hero." Mark sighed and trotted after her, leaving the two men lying on the floor in a spreading pool of wine and broken shards of glass. Lisette made sure the guard was arranged comfortably in the plush chair, snoring, his breeches still around his ankles, his soft cock oozing cum all over his balls. She shook her head in exasperation as she rearranged her skirts; no sooner had the man cum than he yawned and began to fall asleep. She'd been nowhere close to climaxing when he'd finished. Typical male. At least the boy from the future liked to make sure she came first, even if he was a naïve school boy. She left the door open, to make sure his shame was on display and then hurried down the hallway, holding her skirt up and allowing herself to run. The palace was ringing with shouts of alarm, anger and panic. Everything seemed to be going as planned, whatever that entailed. She just trusted that Mistress knew what she was doing. Guards from various regiments were racing around now, getting one another's way and shouting orders angrily. She passed through them virtually unnoticed, merely a servant girl looking for shelter. She made a beeline right for the queen's royal apartments, and she was stopped by no one, since she was known to the guards and stuff. She nodded hastily as she passed two guards outside the ornate doors and headed inside the boudoir. Anne of Austria looked up from a book to see Lisette scurry in, closing the door behind herself and then pressing her ear to the door, ignoring everyone else in the room. She then saw the queen, blinked, curtseyed hastily, and went back to eavesdropping on the frenzy of activity outside. The monarch shook her head wearily and went back to reading her book. "You may not pass through here!" shouted the house guard, blocking Alexandra's passage forward. She had identified herself as a member of the Cardinal's guard, using her well-practiced man's voice to give credit to her guise. Thought he believed her, the man remained unmoved, barring her way. "I told you, I need to reach the Cardinal!" she insisted, knowing full well he would not let her through. "That is no concern of mine," he said coldly, glaring at her, his hand on his sword, ready to draw it. "Find another way to reach your Cardinal, because if you come another step closer, I will run you through." "So be it!" she growled as she lunged in, her own rapier flashing in her hand. The man drew his weapon and thrust at her, but she parried and then drove the point of her blade through the shoulder of his sword arm, pinning him against the wall. He groaned as his sword fell to the ground, but then her foot slammed into his face while she pulled her rapier from his shoulder. He was unconscious, but he would live. She had no cause to kill these men. She ran down the hallway, listening all the while to the commotion that echoed through the Louvre. A young guard barred her progress at a juncture in the hallways, and before he was even ready, she struck him across the head with the basket of her rapier, knocking him out. Alexandra continued along the corridor, but then saw several guards rushing into the other end of the hall, outside of an ornate door that led to the king's royal apartments. Upon seeing her, the six men pointed their muskets at her, three kneeling while the other three stood behind. A series of barks shook the area as she ducked around a corner hastily, avoiding their barrage. She could hear them shouting orders to reload. She leaned her head back against the wall and sighed. Idiots. Before they had reloaded, she had pulled a small device made of two pieces of flint out of her pocket, along with a tiny clay pot out of the other. From the hole in the top of the pot hung a thin strip of rigid paper. She held the pot by its flat bottom and snapped the flint pieces against one another, producing sparks that caught on the paper and began to burn. As the flame made its way down the paper wick, she counted slowly and calmly before leaning around the corner, tossing the pot, which skated on its flat bottom along the floor toward the guards who opposed her. She then ducked back, waiting grimly. There were shouts and the sound of boots stampeding, but then an unreal hissing shriek and a bright, flaring white light as the magnesium powder inside the container ignited. Cries of pain followed. Ten seconds later, the light died, and she rounded the corner and strode down the hallway. Four of the six guards had fled before the grenade went off, while two were writhing on the ground, clutching at their eyes from the flash blindness. She stepped between them and kicked in the door toward the king's apartments before turning around and walking away, knowing that this would create additional confusion as they sought to find the assassin in the red tabard who sought to slay the Sun King. There was more chaos to sow. Mark and Becky sprinted down the hall, ignoring the pell-mell going on around them. Inevitably, though, they were confronted by a soldier of the Cardinal, one that Mark recognized. It was the captain who had shot him. Marks teeth clenched as he rushed forward, ready to run the sonofabitch through, but Becky was faster. She threw herself into a skid, sliding along the polished floor, hurtling straight toward the man. He gaped at her in disbelief, but by then, she had slammed her foot into his crotch, doubling him over with a grunt of unreal pain. With a roar, she surged to her feet, grabbed the man around the middle from behind and yanked him over backwards, suplexing his family jewels with zest. Mark had by now skidded to a halt and watched in disbelief while his teacher stood over the supine officer and kicked him in the ribs. "Bastard!" she raged. "Teach you to kill my students!" She knelt and yanked his head up, making sure his eyes were open as she pointed at Mark, her voice dripping with vitriol. "See that? He's alive! You can't even kill something right! Your life means nothing! Nothing!" She smacked his head off the tile floor and gathered up her weapons before looking at Mark, composing herself now. "Sorry," she said with a flush of embarrassment. "You probably wanted him, didn't you? I thought you were dead, so if I ever saw him again, I'd have to avenge you." Mark shrugged. "No harm done. Except to him, and I don't really' Mark stopped talking and stared down the hallway behind Becky. Three men in flamboyant uniforms, trimmed in blue and white like himself were now approaching them. One had a grim, patrician air and about him, the second a handsome boyish charm, while the third towered over the others by a head and shoulders, a contemptuous smirk on his face. "That can't be good;” he thought. Becky didn't even blink. Without turning around, she pointed her pistol backwards over her shoulder and pulled the trigger. The bark of the shot echoed around the palace and the giant staggered backward, eyes wide in shock, before he fell over like a redwood. The other two gaped at her in astonishment as she turned around to glower at them. They hastily took hold of their downed friend and hauled him out of sight, their duty to the king forgotten. "That's right, ladies, run!" Becky called out, her chest heaving. "How's it feel to get beat up by a girl?" "You are so sexy right now, Becks." Mark chuckled, approaching her. She turned back to face him; covered with gunpowder smudges, scratches and the occasional bruise, she'd never looked more attractive to him. Heedless of their surroundings, she threw herself against him and kissed him shamelessly. His hands found her ass and squeezed as he returned the kiss and she moaned into his mouth. If there'd been a rhino horn on his crotch, he'd have been impaled on it. She broke the kiss and looked at him hungrily, her eyes shouldering with desire. "I'm so glad you're not dead, Mark," she breathed. "I can't wait to prove it to you when we get the fuck out of here." Mark took her hand and pulled her down the hallway, breaking into a run. They weren't out of danger yet. "What're you laughing about?" she asked, scowling while she allowed him to lead her through the palace. "I think that was Porthos you shot," he said almost cheerfully. "Becks, you ganked Porthos." "Oh, I did not," she hissed, trying to not feel disgust at her student's lack of historical knowledge and basic temporal mechanics. "Porthos doesn't die until 1670. So if that guy dies, it wasn't Porthos. If it was Porthos, he isn't dead. Read a book, Mark." "Ha, you said bookmark!" he laughed as he pulled her around a corner and down another hallway, trying to reach the point Alexandra had designated. "Uh!" Becky groused. "Why was I so damn happy that you lived? I swear, Mark, I; Ack!" They both whirled in panic and threw themselves back around the corner as a withering hail of musket fire peppered the plaster of the walls where they'd been standing mere seconds before. They scrambled to their feet and began running back the way they'd come, determined to not die in some baroque version of Bullet Hell from the Matrix. "Fucking shit!" Mark yelped, yanking her around another corner as more soldiers appeared and filled the hall with musket balls. "This sucks!" "Ya' think?" she hissed as they kept running, their options becoming increasingly limited. "I'm in this too, Mister Spotlight!" "Yeah, well at least you don't have the Goblin City Battle music from the Labyrinth soundtrack stuck in your head while they chase us around and try to kill us!" "I do now, you fucker! Thanks a lot!" Becky raged. A lone house guard skidded to a stop near them and prepared to fire. Mark flung his pistol at the man, striking him in the head before knocking him aside as they continued down the corridor. "What did you throw your gun away for, dumbass?" she exclaimed, wondering if blood loss after getting shot had permanently damaged Mark's brain. She hoped he could still get it up, if they made it out of here. "It had no ammo in it." Mark grunted, trying to get his bearings, thinking back to the plans of the palace Alexandra had shown him. "Why were you carrying around an empty pistol?" Becky asked in disbelief. "Intimidation purposes? Were you gonna hold it sideways when you pointed it at people, hope you looked all gangster?" "I plugged a guy on my way to find you, okay?" he sighed as they kept running. "The first shot fired that started this whole mess, it was me shooting some jackoff in the foot as I tried to find you." Becky skidded to a stop, halting Mark's flight as well. She looked into his eyes and then hugged him in relief. "Thank you, Mark," she said quietly. "You came for me, after you nearly died, and we both could today. You're very brave." When she ended the hug, Mark found she had put her own pistol in his hands. He frowned in confusion. "Why'd you give me your pistol?" he asked. "Because let's face it, I'm a lot more likely to snag another one than you are," she sighed. "Let's go, I'm done with the Sun King's France." Out of breath, they settled for trotting down a hallway, surrounded by the echoing sounds of chaos. Things had gotten so confused that the guards were all fighting one another now, thinking the enemy in their midst. Panting, the pair stopped suddenly as they came to a major intersection of hallways. Not far away, a confused brawl consisting of house guard and the Cardinal's guard blocked their passage. Upon their appearance, though, both sides paused in their fight and stared at them. Then a captain raised a call to kill them. Without even thinking, Mark pointed his pistol at the huge iron chandelier over the soldier's heads and fired. The plaster ceiling broke as the iron ball struck at and the chandelier plummeted, crashing into the dozens of men before while clouds of plaster dust filled the hall. "I can't believe that worked!" Mark laughed as they ran down another venue. "Yes, it was very impressive, Gene Kelly," Becky sighed, shaking her head. "Next, you'll be swinging from the damn chandeliers or using your knife to ride down tapestries." Soldiers surged around the corner, charging into the couple. Mark shouted in fury as they tried to skewer him while they attempted to wrestle Becky to the ground. He dodged a blade and slashed his foe across the arm before leaping back to try and give himself room. He looked around in a panic and saw Becky kicking a soldier in the nuts before punching another in the face, her eyes flashing with fury. Someone slammed into him from behind and he tumbled forward, scrambling to gain his feet. More bodies joined the fracas and he realized that they were not only trying to kill him but fighting one another as well. It was difficult to breathe. There were too many bodies smothering him. He gasped in panic and strained to find room for himself. His shaking hand gripped a sword and she shoved it forward indiscriminately, feeling something soft give before him. He focused all his effort on crawling forward, finally emerging from the churning pile of men, locked in combat. He dragged himself along the floor but then grunted in pain as something speared into his thigh from above and behind. He turned to look, his eyes watering in pain, seeing a man in red, glaring at him, raising his rapier for another strike. Then a sword point burst through the man's chest from behind. His eyes widened, and he dropped his sword and crumpled to the ground. The man who had killed him was already moving on to another target. Exhausted and dull with pain, Mark dragged himself to a wall and slumped against it, looking around for Becky, but she was nowhere to be seen. No. Not again. He ignored the maelstrom of violence and pushed himself to his feet, limping down a hallway, sword held loosely in his hand as he went to find his teacher. Alexandra strode down the hall with purpose, her senses keen for trouble. She had caused as much trouble as she could, all the while keeping the fray well away from the queen's quarters. She regretted that men would die today, due to their poor judgement, but she understood that the girl Rebecca could not remain here in Paris. A deep foreboding warned her that almost any price was worth paying to see her safely away. Sparring with D'Artagnan. She stopped as a lone figure came into view, blocking her way down the corridor. He wore the blue of the king's mousquetaires, his young face etched with determination. His hand rested on the hilt of his rapier while he observed her. "So," he began, tilting his head. "You must be the cause of all this mayhem, oui?" "I am not who you seek." Alexandra said plainly. "I do not truck with liars and I do not appreciate being lied to!" the young man snapped. "I would have your name before I run you through in the king's. Are you an agent of Buckingham?" "No." "Charles of Spain?" "I have no time for this," Alexandra said testily, putting her hand on the hilt of her blade. "Move aside and let me complete my task, musketeer!" "Then it is death you crave!" he hissed, his rapier flashing in his hand now. "I shall happily give it to you in the queen's honor!" Alexandra drew her blade as her foe rushed forward. She parried his initial thrust and then counter-thrust, which he swatted aside. A flurry of thrusts and ripostes followed, the two warriors measuring one another, vying for advantage in the narrow hallway. Steel rang and flashed. Alexandra's sword point tore a vent in one of her foe's sleeves, and she followed up with a swipe at his eyes, but he dodged away nimbly. He lunged in with the speed of a striking serpent and she caught his blade on hers before it pierced her stomach, turning it aside. They pressed blade-to-blade, moving around one another in a slow, deadly circle, their eyes locked. He danced away again as a main-gauche flashed in her hand, nearly shearing his throat open. He spun around her next attack, and when he was facing her again, a pistol had appeared in his free hand. At point blank range, he pulled the trigger. The thunderous bark of the firearm rattled her teeth as she bent backwards, the bullet passing harmlessly overhead. Alexandra somersaulted backward gracefully, coming to her feet with her rapier guarding against a follow-up attack. A lot of bemusement crossed his face. "Very pretty, good sir," he said. "But it will not save you." He darted in again and another furious exchange of swordplay followed. His blade kissed the top of her thigh, leaving a shining crimson thread on her skin. She paid him in kind with a nick across his cheek, followed by cutting the red plume from his hat. He was nearly as fast as she was, and his recklessness made him dangerously unpredictable, even to one as skilled and experienced as Alexandra. Their blades grated as they strained against one another, teeth clenched and eyes flashing in fury. With a cry of effort, she shoved with all her might and threw him back. He kept his feet and remained on guard, irritated by his foe's grit and skill. "D'Artagnan!" shouted Athos as he and Aramis dragged the unconscious Porthos across the hallway behind the combatants, disappearing from sight. This distracted the Musketeer, who turned to look behind himself in confusion and then disbelief. He glanced back at his foe and then sighed, sheathing his blade. "Until next time, enemy mine;” he said, before darting around the corner to catch up with his comrades. Alexandra waited some seconds after he was gone and then sagged against the wall, sighing heavily. She rubbed her face for a moment before returning her rapier to its sheathe and continuing on. She had to find Mark and Rebecca. The door to the room swung open and Mark staggered inside, panting in pain. His entire leg felt like it was on fire, and it was maddeningly sticky. He had lost his sword while searching for Becky, but it mattered little if he couldn't find her. He tumbled into a sitting position, propping himself up on his hands and trying to breathe. Everything hurt now, and it was getting to the place where he couldn't move. His head throbbed and he was getting dizzy. With extreme effort, he managed to tear one of his sleeves off, and tied it around his leg, hoping it would act as a tourniquet and perhaps staunch the bleeding. It stung like fucking Hell and to his distress did nothing ease his pain. He sat there panting, when a solemn figure in red moved slowly by the door. There was a pause and then the person came back into view, peering at Mark quizzically. Clad in red robes and a little red skull cap, his tight, lemony features creased in recognition and then disbelief. "I know you," the Cardinal murmured, his eyes never leaving Mark. "Yes, you are the boy from the field, the one who claimed to be a Spanish noble and had the pretty girl with him." He stepped closer, still scrutinizing Mark, who tried to move backwards, his body screaming in protest. "But you died," the elderly man stated. "My captain shot you. You died in that field. What witchcraft is this?" Annoyance flashed in the Cardinal's eyes now. "So, you are the cause of all this tumult. The girl I was to give to the queen, she is missing and now I know why." He pulled a pistol from within the voluminous folds of his red robes and cocked it before pointing the muzzle down at Mark's face. "I think it is time I dealt with this problem myself, once and for all." Too hurt and exhausted to fight back, Mark squeezed his eyes shut; "I Kick You In The Nuts, Richelieu!" shrilled a voice from the doorway behind the Cardinal, the shout followed by a sickening thump as a musketeer's boot appeared beneath Richelieu's groin. The man stiffened for a moment in confusion, but then his eyes crossed, and he bit his lower lip as his skin turned a sickly shade of green. While Richelieu slumped forward and then fell on his side, trembling and holding the family jewels, Mark goggled up at Becky, who stood indignantly in the doorway with her hands on her hips, glaring down at His Eminence. "Asshole;” she muttered as she stepped over the Cardinal and came over to Mark, who was shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Her eyes welled with emotion as she knelt next to him. "Oh, Mark," she said in a gentle voice. "Look at you, you got stabbed, baby. I'm so sorry;” "I'll be alright," he managed to say as she hugged him to her. "At least you still look amazing, no matter how badly your ass has been kicked." Becky's laugh choked back her sob and she smiled at him, tears in her eyes. "Smart-ass," she murmured. "C'mon, let me bind your boo-boo properly and then we'll get out of here, before everyone in Paris is dead." She fixed his makeshift tourniquet and then helped him stand. Once he was upright, he took a deep breath and smiled at her. "I think I can walk, I was just in need of a breather, ya' know?" She giggled. "How the Hell are we gonna explain a rapier wound through your thigh when you get home?" "With any luck, Chester will have a little something' to fix me right up." Mark replied. "Let's go. If we are where I think we are, then our ride isn't that far away." They walked cautiously down several smaller hallways, avoiding any and all encounters. They chaos seemed to have abated, at least for now. Alexandra had predicted that if fighting broke out, there was be lots of confused violence, followed by the various guard companies withdrawing to their assigned wings of the palace, to directly protect their charges, such as the king, queen and cardinal. "Bet the Cardinal's guards are gonna be upset," Mark chuckled. "He's nowhere near his quarters, and they let him get kicked in the freaking balls." Becky giggled as she walked alongside him, her arm through his. "You have no idea how good that felt, Mark. A girl could get used to that. Maybe we should visit Berlin, see if I can kick Hitler in the nuts." "One grand adventure at a time, teach;” he said wearily, causing her to laugh. But her mirth was brought up short when a solitary figure appeared in front of them, wearing red and clad in a black mask, a rapier and several pistols on their belt. Becky scowled, getting ready to step in front of her student, when Mark seemed to sigh in relief. "I am glad to see you are both well," said the person, walking forward, pulling their golden hair out of its ponytail and removing the mask. Becky's heart leapt as she came face-to-face with Lady Alexandra once more. "Thank the Lord." She stepped in and embraced them both, all three of them trembling at being reunited. Alexandra finally smiled at her friends and nodded. "We must still get you out of here, before the guards return to some sense of normalcy. Mark, do you still have the place name I gave to you?" Mark smiled wearily. "I; it's in the little pocket in my pants here, but it's probably pretty red and unreadable by now." "It's a good thing, then, that I wrote a copy, non?" Alexandra lilted, pulling a small piece of vellum out from beneath the sash she wore and handing it to Becky. "Go to this place," the noblewoman instructed. "By carriage, it should not take more than three days. It is a sanctum I use on occasion and it will be safe. Lisette and I will find you there a day or two after you arrive." She then handed two small, round jars into Becky's palm as well. "Use these to salve your wounds, until I arrive. I promise you, they will work." "How can we thank you?" Becky asked, staring at Alexandra, enchanted. The French woman smiled and then pulled Becky to her, kissing her deeply and passionately. Becky shuddered and moaned, her arms wrapping around Alexandra and returning the kiss passionately. Mark smiled as he watched the blondes make out for almost a minute before Alexandra reluctantly pulled away. "We need to stop, or we will be fucking right here in the halls of the palace," she breathed, wiping at the corner of her mouth with a finger. "We will see one another soon, and celebrate then." She turned to Mark and smiled before leaning in and kissing him gently. "You are a brave man, my friend. Never doubt it, no matter what travails Heaven provides." She walked them through several secret passages now, until they emerged into a small courtyard, under the cover of night. Standing nearby, a non-descript carriage awaited them. Alexandra wrapped Becky in a cloak and then spoke to the driver while the clambered inside. His instructions were clear, and he would not deviate from them. Becky and Mark looked out a small window, smiling and waving at Alexandra, who held up her hand to bid them farewell. The carriage exited the Louvre via a small gate where the guards asked no questions, and then they were on their way through Paris. Mark sank back into the surprisingly plush seat and sighed heavily. "Try not to get kidnapped again, Becks," he said lazily. "I'm not sure how much more of this my body can take." "But being rescued by you is one of my favorite reasons to use tawdry sex as a thank you," she protested, turning to smile at him and tracing a fingernail up and down his chest. "You wouldn't deprive me of that joy, would you, hero?" "Perish the thought, teach;” he chuckled tiredly. A time to recuperate. Mark had Lisette pinned beneath him and rocked back and forth on top of her, his cock plunging in and out of her molten cunt, while she groaned in pleasure. It felt so good to have this boy's tool inside her again. Her legs were wrapped around his strong waist and her hips moved in time with his, taking him in as deep as she could. Lisette rarely kissed anyone who wasn't her mistress, but in this case, she was making a willing exception. Their tongues tangled wetly as they fucked, exploring one another. The tingling heat was overtaking her, and she knew it would not be long now. She crossed her ankles behind him and she bit at the skin of his chest, shuddering in delight. Mark arched his back, pushing as deep inside her as he could, before shaking and allowing himself release. Her wanton cunt gripped his cock while he came deep inside her, his whole being awash with unreal pleasure. They moaned through a frenzied kiss and then sagged together, spent and sated, at least for now. Moans, pants and sighs of bliss attracted Mark and Lisette's attention and they looked off their side; also on the huge bed with them, Becky and Alexandra were sitting together, with their arms and legs wrapped around one another, kissing hungrily as they squirmed their slick pussies together. Their matching golden hair was damp with the sweat of their exertions, skin slick and shining. The greedy smacking and sucking sounds their slits made as they mingled made the four lovers shiver in delight. Alexandra and Becky were groping and fondling one another with unreal need, their nails leaving red marks and their fingers gripping tight enough to leave welts. Neither relented, though, desperate to cum together. The moans became groans and they were panting as they gyrated their hips, churning rhythmically in a sensual dance of bliss. They pulled tighter against one another, clenching their teeth and craning their necks as they peaked, then crying out and pressing their molten, gooey pussies as they came. More feverish kissing punctuated the climax and the finally both collapsed backward, chests heaving, their legs still scissored together. Steam seemed to be rising from their bodies, skin flushed pink. The four lovers lay silent for some minutes, just basking in their shared bliss. Mark finally pulled himself out of Lisette and then knelt over her face, allowing the dark-haired girl to slide his cock into her mouth, cleaning their mingled cum from his cock, which she did with great delight. Becky and Alexandra finally clasped wrists and pulled themselves up into a sitting position, hugging tiredly, but not willing to relinquish their most intimate contact. They kissed deeply and contentedly, fondling one another's tits. Lisette looked over at them and giggled. Alexandra looked over at her servant, her eyebrow raised. "What is so funny, girl?" Lisette turned on her side and rested her head on her hand while Mark spooned in behind her. "I was just thinking, Mistress; you and Miss Rebecca look so much alike. What if you are her ancestor?" Becky and Alexandra both thought about that, looked at one another for a moment, shrugged and began kissing again, their tongues tangling loudly. "And if that was the case, think about what we discussed the other day," she continued, smirking mischievously. "You said you had wondered what it would be like to Monsieur Mark's child, yes? Wouldn't that also make him Miss Rebecca's ancestor?" Mark burst out laughing while Becky choked on her shock, interrupting the kiss she had been so enjoying. She looked at Lisette in disbelief. Alexandra just sighed and shook her head, used to her servant's twisted humor. The moment of metaphysical terror passed for Becky and they all cuddled together in the center of the bed, kissing tenderly and caressing. Alexandra had told Becky all about Mark's efforts to find her and reach her, what he had undergone and risked. Becky's eyes shone as she looked at Mark at promised to make sure he was properly thanked until the end of time. "I wish you could stay," Alexandra almost moped, regretting that she had to give her new friends up. "I enjoy your company, and I am not ashamed to say I love you both." "Feeling's mutual, Alexa," Becky lilted, tracing a fingernail across her generous tit. "But maybe we needn't end our association. If we designate a consistent place, when you know you are available, you can leave a message there. Mark and I will check for messages, and when we see one, we can visit you at the appointed time. No conflicts or dangers presented, as long as we're all certain of the clear lines of communication." "I like that idea," Alexandra said, grinning. "And I have a gift for you both." She climbed off the bed and went to retrieve something. She returned shortly with two bottles, which she presented to them. "A new type of wine, invented in my native region of Champagne," she said, kneeling on the bed as they examined the bottles. "Twice fermented and sweet on the tongue, not unlike my darling Rebecca." Becky blushed and Mark grinned. "You'll be glad to know that in our time, champagne is one of the most expensive and sought-after drinks in the world, used in every important celebration." "That does please me, Mark." Alexandra said, nodding her head and deciding to not chide him this time about telling her the future. "And now that I think of it, literally, I've got a present for you, Alexa." Mark mused, getting off the bed. The three women watched as he walked into a large closet, rummaging around loudly. When he returned, he was holding what appeared to be several unusual books, which he handed to Alexandra. "What are these?" she asked, puzzled. "Well, the graphic novel is a pictorial history of Wonder Woman, who you may recall I told you a little bit about," he explained, sitting on the bed again. "And the other three books are all written by a man named Alexander Dumas and are fictional works about the Three Musketeers. I figured they'd be humorous reading for you." She looked up at him incredulously. "But; why were they in my closet here in my chalet?" He grinned again. "Well, just a moment ago, I decided to give them to you. So in a few days, I'm gonna gather them up, bring them here to just before Becky and I arrive, and bury 'em in your closet, where I know they are. That way, I don't run into any of us. And clearly it worked." Becky made a wry face. "Ya' know, I'd say you're getting the hang of this whole temporal travel thing, but I'm pretty sure you're only getting the hang of abusing it." Mark smirked at her and pinched her nipple, making her shiver and bite her lip. He then looked back at Alexandra. "And when you're done with 'em, you can just leave 'em in our drop-off spot and Becks and I'll pick them up. That way, there's no anachronistic copies of nineteenth-century novels or twentieth-century comic books lying around to be discovered by archaeologists." "I take back what I said just now, you're gonna get us all clock-hammered right out of existence." Becky sighed, causing her lovers to laugh. Mark and Becky lay side-by-side in her bed and holdings hands, back in their own time and generally none the worse for wear. They'd learned some valuable lessons and had made some important contacts along the way. "Do' you really think Alexandra's my ancestor?" Becky mused, looking at her bedroom ceiling. Mark shrugged. "You sure look a lot alike, and you're both Hell on wheels. I'm still amused by the notion of me being your great-great-great-whatever grandfather." She sighed and shook her head. "I can handle the notion of fucking and falling in love with my great-whatever grandmother, but the notion of you as my whatever grandfather gives me the jibblies. Just promise me you won't impregnate Alexa and make that come true, Mark." He chuckled. "I promise. I have no idea how trans-temporal alimony or visitation rights even work." Becky giggled and turned in to face him, cuddling close. "So, who're you gonna save me from next, hero?" she purred, nipping at his earlobe and making him shiver. "Oh, God, Becks, can we start out with some really ferocious kindergartners from the Roaring Twenties taking you hostage? I can probably handle that right about now." She giggled again and crawled on top of him, staring down into his eyes and kissing his nose while she squirmed her tits against him. "Take me to New York in the Twenties and I'll show you how liberated a flapper girl I can be," she whispered. "Deal?" "Deal." Mark replied, pulling her down and kissing her soulfully. Count Mark and Becky in! I Think I'm Getting The Hang Of This! Finally home. Mark sat at his dining room table, eating dutifully. His mom had prepared short ribs and mashed potatoes for dinner, one of his favorites. What she didn't know was that Mark had substituted several herbs and spices into her collection, items he'd brought back from his temporal travels. At the very least, this meant they were technically several hundred years old, or sometimes that they didn't exist in the modern era at all. "I'm enjoying this particular batch of thyme that I put in the braise," Dhallyla Pritchard remarked as she gently stabbed some green beans with her fork. "Mark, where did you say you got it for me? The flavor is so; special." Mark shrugged. "Another shop I thought I'd try out," he replied. "Nowhere near our usual places." "Well, keep it up, son," his father said, sitting at the other end of the table. "No offence to your mother's cooking, but the spices we were getting before weren't helping the cause. Now this is flavor." "Such a good little minion," his mom said sweetly, reaching over and pinching his cheek. "First, you did amazingly well on your Physics exam and boosted your overall grade to the place where the university accepted you, and now you're an herbs and spices guru. Talk about an unexpected change." "Yeah," his sister Roxy said, sitting across from him, and trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice. "Unexpected is right." "Now Roxy, be nice," their mom chided. "You should be happy for your little brother, he'll be going to university with you." "As long as she pulls her grades up," grunted dad, pausing in eating to waggle his fork in her general direction. "You promised us you'd keep your grades up and we'd let you live here rent-free as a result, Rox. We're living up to our end of the bargain, what's so difficult about yours?" "Maybe I should study more and party less," she grumbled, scowling at her food. She hated to admit it, but her mom was right, the spices were great. Where had the little trouser-snake bought them? "Ya' know, open my mind more and my legs less?" "Dear!" Dhallyla gasped, looking at her daughter in shock. "Nobody said you were behaving licentiously! There's no need to use language like that!" "Sorry," the dark-haired girl sighed, putting down her fork. "Just been on edge lately. Seems to have been The Mark Show around here recently,

This week's episode of The Everyone Active Podcast features Richard Randall, 66 - a member at Harpenden Leisure Centre. In May 2025, Richard was inspired by Everyone Active's Grit Challenge to take on something extraordinary - a HYROX. Having never attempted anything athletic in his life, Richard spent the next six months training hard for this life-defining event. Using a programme developed in accordance with the YOU+ principles by his Personal Trainer, Becks, Richard aced the HYROX event and is now looking forward to his next challenge! ---- Get more workouts with Everyone On Demand - https://www.everyoneactive.com/Everyone-On-Demand/ ➞Get fitness advice, gym tips and more - https://www.everyoneactive.com/content-hub/ ➞Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/everyoneactive/ ➞Find your local centre - https://www.everyoneactive.com/centre/ ➞Learn more about Sporting Champions - https://www.easportingchampions.com/

Männerabend #284 – Estland! Dennis, Reinhold und Candy trinken heute einige „Urlaubsbiere„: Candy war mal wieder auf großer Reise und hat insgesamt 6 Biere aus Estland für diese Männerabend-Folge eingesammelt. Und natürlich berichtet Candy auch von ihren Besuchen der Brauereien bzw. Brewpubs vor Ort. Heute mit dabei: Pihtla Õlleköök Rannakadakas Põhjala Prenzlauer Berg Pihtla Õlleköök Kastehein Pühaste […]

The Time Riders: Part 3 What happens when you mix clock-block with priapism? Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Ain't Nobody Got Time For That Shit! Mark and Becky sat in the small cottage, looking around in wonder. They were still in Seventeenth Century France, but found themselves surrounded by technologies that they hadn't even heard of. The walls were lined with clocks, some of which were mechanical, some seemed to be digital or binary, while others told time in ways they couldn't fathom. Sitting across from them at the stout, round oaken table, Chester Edgerton smoked a pipe and observed them casually. "How; how can you have this all out on display?" Mark asked, still gaping. "I mean, isn't it against the rules to have this sort of tech from the future lying around where the locals might bump into it?" "That's the beauty of it, my' boy," he said cheerfully, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "They can't see it." "Well, I get it if you try to restrict entry to your house," Mark pressed, wanting to understand. "But what if you're gone and bandits break in? Becks and I can account for banditry in this day and age, for sure." "Mayhap," the man replied. "But I brought you through the door that leads to my actual house. The front door, the one the local peasantry sees, leads into a simple cottage, typical of the period, and owned by a pudgy man of indeterminate nationality." "Your; house is in two places at once?" Mark asked, trying to understand. "No, it's the same place," Chester answered simply. "Two different times, however. We're sitting in my actual abode, Twenty-First Century." Mark shook his head. "That's some weird Tardis shit right there." "Only at first." Chester allowed. "I notice you have all your windows shut," Becky remarked. "You said we're in the Twenty-First Century, but I take from further ahead than Mark and I are from, so you're not showing us?" "Clever girl," mused the man, smiling. "While I won't absolutely stop you from looking or even going outside, I would warn you that if you do and see something you don't like, you're committing yourself to that future, no matter how hard you try to undo it." "We'll stay put then," she said readily. "You were kind enough to bring us here and sort of explain how we might acquire goods in the time stream?" He nodded. "I know it might seem counter-intuitive, but the simple fact of the matter is that if people are going to insist on time travelling, the least they can do is be well-prepared for it so they don't hurt themselves or others." He leaned forward. "The first question you need to ask yourself is, why are you so intent on time-travelling to begin with? Is it simple curiosity? Are you planning to make a living somehow? Are you just trying to get laid?" He looked at Mark during this last question and the young man blushed, while Becky giggled and patted his hand. "Mark was a dud in Physics in his last year of high school," she explained. "Come to think of it, he was in little or no danger of getting into any post-secondary education facility." "Thanks." Mark muttered. "But, then he found his time machine, something called a Holmes Field Device, and he resolved to go back in time a few months and convince me to give him an A in Physics with the promise of earth-shaking sex." "This story sounds worse every time I hear it." Mark complained. "Fortunately, I acquiesced, rather than disemboweling him for breaking into my home, and not only did we become lovers, but now we're adventuring the time stream together." "Hmm, a teacher and a student, eh?" mused the man, smiling at them as he smoked. "Teachers and students are plentiful, of course, but they're usually from the far, far future and on very strictly-controlled excursions into the past. Hands-on history classes, if you will." "That makes history sound kinda fun." Mark said. "Oh, I daresay it is," agreed Chester. "Nothing quite as exciting as going back to the Cretaceous Period and taking a ride on the back of a trained Styracosaurus. Or watching Dromer races." "Isn't that screwing with the timeline?" Becky inquired. "I mean, humans weren't around for another sixty-three million years following the demise of the dinosaurs." "It's all very carefully regulated on remote islands," Chester explained. "It does nothing to mess with the ecosystem and the specimens are trained to interact with humans, for the most part." "Riding one of those big horned dinosaurs would be a kick." Mark mused, grinning. "You've already got a perfectly good horn I like to ride," Becky giggled, squeezing his hand again. "Besides, this is where our host tells us that it won't be possible for us any time soon." "You're a very perceptive young lady," he allowed. "We can't have just anyone mucking up the time stream, you know. It's especially difficult when people who lived before time travel was commonly accepted try to get involved. They inevitably get exposed to technologies they shouldn't be aware of, or events that weren't known during their own time;” "I'll give you a tiny example," he said, leaning forward now, as if he was confiding a secret. "Have you heard of the Tunguska Incident?" "Sure, the Tunguska region in Siberia, 1908," Becky answered, nodding. "A large meteor slammed into the ground, creating a blast equal to sixty megatons and flattening everything for nearly a hundred miles around." "No, that's what you need to think," he corrected, pointing the stem of his pipe toward them. "It was, in fact, an advanced weapon that was stolen from a future date, and before temporal agents could recover it, the thieves blew it up to cover their escape. Granted, there are people in your time who have conspiracy theories about nuclear blast, nearly forty years before the first atomic tests, but they're wrong as well. It wasn't a nuclear device, simply a weapon with an incredibly high conventional yield by your age's standards." "So; why can you tell us this now?" Becky asked. He grinned and spread out his arms in a gesture of farce. "Who would believe you?" "So how did you know that we were time travelers?" Mark asked as they followed their host and guide through the woods. "Well, I heard snippets of your conversation," Chester said as he led the way. "But to be honest, even though your outfits might pass with locals for 'reasonably authentic', you couldn't possibly hide your origins from a fellow time-traveler. Mark claimed to be Spanish, he doesn't look at all Spanish, certainly not from this era. Miss Rebecca is remarkably tall for a woman." "Well there's something I don't hear very often back home!" she giggled. "And you're both in strangely good health, with unblemished skin and full heads of hair," Chester added. "I was relatively certain, and then I heard you discussing your relative inexperience, so I sought to introduce myself." "I'd' have thought that you wouldn't introduce yourself to newbies," Mark stated, helping Becky over a log. "Isn't it safer to keep your chatter to people who know what they're doing?" "It's actually the exact opposite," replied Chester. "The best thing you can do around veteran time travelers you don't need to talk to is to not talk to them. Their timelines are probably very intricate and you don't want yours getting snarled up with them. Newbies, as you call them, probably still have linear experiences that are simple to understand and educating them about what awaits is the simplest way to keep things from getting weird." Getting up to leave the cottage, Mark asked; "So this device the time cops gave me," Mark stated, holding up his chronometer. "It's actually pretty useful then, because it warns me when I'm getting too close to myself or something I've affected." "That was very generous of them," Chester said in a serious tone. "They don't do that for just everyone who shows up suddenly in the time stream. Sometimes they let matters work themselves out, if you know what I mean." Chester's Forest Farewell.  The meadow they stepped into, had a mature lush forest further back. They reached a small clearing in the forest they'd been tromping through and stopped for a bit, sitting on a fallen tree trunk. Chester looked at them both and slapped his hands on his thighs. "Now then, I've brought you here so that you can witness a casual event that is due to happen just outside the woods. Nothing major, but it will give you a taste of what can await you. I have something to attend to and should be back in a few hours. Just stay out of sight and don't leave the tree line." "You're leaving?" Mark protested. Chester turned to look at him. "It might be that the events you will see unfold work better for me if I am nowhere near them," the man replied. "Fear not, I shall return. Enjoy yourselves." And then he walked into the woods and was gone. Mark looked around and finally sighed. "Helluva way to mentor someone," he muttered as he stood to take in a panoramic context. "Take 'em somewhere and then just fuck off? Nice." "He's not your mentor, Mark," Becky chided, sitting on a log and smiling at him. "He's a fellow time traveler who is doing you a favor. He's given you plenty of valuable information free of charge already, something I doubt he does frequently." "Well, okay," Mark allowed. "So, we just wait until we see something happen?" "No idea when that'll be, he didn't really tell us, did he?" Becky pointed out. "Yup," Mark sighed. "So, now what?" Becky tilted her head slightly as she looked at him, like there was something wrong with his brain. "Here's an idea. How about you come over here and fuck me?" Mark was so determined to be bent out of shape for having no instructions that he'd overlooked the completely obvious. He laughed and stepped forward, pulling Becky to her feet. They were holding their hands between them and staring into one another's eyes, smiling. "Now this is what time travel is all about," she purred, her eyes shining with delight. "You're going to fuck me in the woods in Louis the Sun King's France, Mark. For all we know, this is some sort of royal ground and we're trespassing. How many people can say they've done that?" "Just the lucky ones;” he replied, beginning to unfasten the clasps on her dress, freeing her chest from its confines. As the dress fell away, she was left standing on in a low-cut, blouse-like shirt and some panties, having chosen to forego the usual layers of buntlings and knickers. She bit her lip as he pulled her blouse over her head, exposing her glorious tits. Kneeling now, he slowly slid her panties down, feeling a thrill as her hairless, smooth cunt came into view. She stepped out of the tiny thong panties, letting him drink in the sight of her. Yes, he'd been with her for over a week now in France, but he never tired of seeing her beautiful body. "Your turn now, my lord." Becky whispered as she began removing his clothing, peeling away the layers until he was as naked as herself. She stood up again and moved close, her nipples gently kissing against his chest. Unable to hold back any more, Mark pulled his teacher to him and kissed her deeply, making Becky moan into his mouth. Their hands wandered over one another's now-familiar forms, seeking to stimulate, tease and pleasure. His hands found her pert ass cheeks and he squeezed them, causing her to moan again. "Hmm, can't wait to get some grass stains on this dress," she murmured, looking up into his eyes. "And maybe a few on my knees." She slowly knelt in front of Mark, kissing and nipping at his skin on the way down. His swelling phallus was in front of her face now and she licked her lips hungrily before taking gentle hold and kissing it. Mark closed his eyes and shivered, loving the feel of her lips on him. Everything about his teacher was incredible. He was just sorry it had taken so long to realize it. Becky now had the head of his cock inside her warm, wet mouth, swirling her tongue around flicking the tip of her tongue against him. She giggled as his rod throbbed and grew longer and harder. She loved how turned on he could get by her, it made her feel so primal and sexual. She then slid her mouth a little further down his shaft before pulling back, shivering in delight at the sight of his glistening skin. Mark's fingers were in her hair and flexing gently as she began to bob back and forth, taking more and more of him into her mouth. She hummed lightly, vibrating her lips around him and making him groan. Her hand rested on the shaft, pumping as it followed her lips, making a gentle twisting motion on the sensitive skin. Becky loved sucking cock, and Mark's was ridiculously perfect for her, in just about every possible way. She hoped that wouldn't be a problem down the road. She took gentle hold of his hips with both hands and moved back and forth along his shaft, breathing through her nose as she deep-throated him. Mark groaned in pleasure, his fingers flexing into her scalp and tugging her hair. She looked up at him, maintaining eye contact, which she knew he found so erotic. She could feel his skin growing warm and knew now was the time to stop and change things up if she intended to have his cock inside her. There was indeed one good thing about them being out of sync, with her current self three months behind him; they already knew she wasn't pregnant in his current timeline, so he could cum deep inside her as much as they liked. She pulled her mouth off his with a wet 'pop!' and smiling seductively. "I'm thinking maybe my girl wants to say hello too;” she purred. Mark nodded and spread out her dress before lying down on it, his rock-hard cock standing straight up and throbbing. Becky crawled over him, straddling his face, her creamy, wet cunt mere inches from his mouth. She faced down his body, giggling and he snaked his tongue out to taste her, but she kept her prize just out of reach. "So that's how it is, eh?" he said from below her before suddenly wrapping his arms around her thighs and pulling down on them and causing her to lurch unexpectedly (for her) onto his eager mouth. Becky shuddered and moaned loudly as his tongue snaked along and massaged her nether lips, before flickering against her throbbing clit to make her gasp and almost double over. "No fair;” she panted, trying to regain control of herself, but Mark seemed inclined to cheat. He kept her pinned to him, leaving her to squirm helplessly above him while he lashed her with his tongue. "Uh, you bastard; yes, right there; Oh, God, Mark;” Her pleas exhorted him to even greater measures. He was determined to make her cum on his mouth at least once before they fucked. And he seemed to be pretty damned good at making her cum with oral sex, he had to say. Becky squirmed on top of him, playing wither tits, pinching and pulling on her pink nipples, her eyes squeezed shut, because it almost felt too good if she was looking at him. His eager tongue snaked deep inside her hungry cunt, making her wetter still. He had this maddening technique where he formed shapes or letters inside her with his tongue, reaching almost every nook and cranny of her. She whimpered, knowing he intended to make her cum and she was more than happy to oblige. She leaned forward while sitting on his face, reaching out to his twitching cock, caressing and massaging it gently; she didn't want him to cum, she just wanted to keep him stimulated. She felt the thrill of anticipation, knowing it would soon be inside her, pumping in and out, throbbing and finally releasing his creamy essence into her, something she accepted gladly because of the temporal mechanics between them. Mark sucked her clit into his mouth, rolling it around and making her shudder, groaning deeply as something started to build within her. She pushed down onto his face with her hips, grinding eagerly, while her clit throbbed. Then her released it and pushed his tongue deep inside her again, probing and lashing her until she was writhing and panting heavily. "Oh, God, Mark;” she gasped, sweat streaming from her sensual form. "Oh, fuck, yes, please; Uh, so close, baby;” He pushed into her as hard as he could and she jerked and squeaked arching her back. Her whole frame was wracked with pleasure as she cried out loudly, the orgasm crashing through her until she almost couldn't breathe. She shook violently, her eyes rolling into her head before she collapsed on top of him, her body limp and her chest heaving. Her limbs felt like tingling lead, but she managed to lift one to find his cock, determined to keep him hard until she had recovered. She stroked him gently while he kissed at her gooey nether lips, his face glistening with her cum. Fortunately, Becky was insatiable and recovered quickly, slowly rising and then sidling forward down his body so she could look back at him and smirk. "How about it, big boy?" she asked coyly. "You ready for the main event?" Mark grinned and nodded while she slithered down his body, finally hovering over his hips while facing his feet. She took hold of his throbbing cock and teased it against her slippery entrance before sinking down, making them both sigh in relief. "Hallelujah;” she moaned as he bottomed out inside her, filling her completely. "Oh, that's exactly what the doctor ordered." Mark nodded and took hold of her silken, pert ass cheeks and gripped them firmly, making his teacher purr. Becky loved having her ass played with, and while she began to sink up and down slowly on his cock, he massaged the peach-like orbs, eliciting moans from her when he spread them wide, giving her a delicious stretch. "Hmm, get me nice and ready back there," she cooed as she moved up and down on him. "Because once you're done in my cunt, I want you in my ass and I want to feel your cum in it." Mark nodded eagerly, because he loved fucking Becky's ass. Her cunt was incredibly tight, but even that couldn't match her exquisite back passage, which gripped him so strongly and always made him cum so hard he thought he might faint. His fingers teased against her little puckered, pink knot, sending the most divine tingles through her luscious body. Becky undulated on him, picking up the pace and counting on Mark to control himself until her was in her ass. She bit her lower lip, working herself on that thick, throbbing tool, pulling up until it was almost out of her and then sinking back down in one long stroke, filling her completely. Her heart was strumming in her chest as she thrilled to the notion of the oncoming climax. She was hissing now, struggling to hold on just a few seconds longer, to draw out this wonderful pleasure for them both. But then she felt the point of no return and willingly stepped over it, moaning loudly as her cunt fluttered and she began to cum, hard. She wailed and rocked on her lover, bathing his middle with her excitement. Her head lolled for several seconds as she came down from her orgasm, but she remembered that she still had Mark inside her and needed him, promised him, that he would be cumming in her ass. Slowly, lethargically, she raised herself until his cock fell out of her, still rock-hard and yearning for more. For such a young man, he had exceptional control. She inched forward, until she felt his pulsing head teasing against her notch. She reached underneath herself and took hold of the shaft, holding him steady while she pressed down, slowly but surely. She heard him groan as the head popped through her tight ring suddenly and then he was sliding inside her. It was Heaven. She sat still for several seconds, just reveling in the feel of him filling her ass. She felt the need to be sensual, and she leaned backward, until she was resting her back on his torso, her head next to his. But her knees were still bent and she groaned like she was going to burst, the angle of his penetration in this position more than she could bear. Whispering for him to wait patiently, she slowly, sinuously slid her legs out from beneath herself and straightened them, relaxing in pleasure as they rested on Mark's thighs. "Sorry, that would've downright killed me right now," she whispered to him, her glassy, heavily-lidded eyes looking into his. "And I wanted to be down her to kiss you and let you fondle me as you fucked me and came in me." "Sounds like a plan," he agreed readily, his strong, but gentle hands coming up to rest on her opulent tits. Her began caressing and massaging them in circles while Becky started moving her ass on top of his cock, squeezing him inside her tight confines. "God, I love your ass, Becky." "Umm, it loves your cock, Mark," she purred, undulating on him, the throb of his tool being felt through her whole body like another heartbeat. "You always make me cum so hard;” They squirmed and ground together, with Mark tilting his hips up to push inside her while Becky squeezed him, the lovers shuddering as they kissed feverishly. His hands were squeezing her tits now, pinching and pulling on the nipples again to make her groan with the delicious sting. But Mark felt his climax approach and he knew it wouldn't be long before he was pumping his cum inside her. Becky moaned into his mouth as she felt his cock swelling and twitching erratically, a sure sign he was about to cum. She squeezed him tighter, feeling the buildup inside herself, yearning to share that unreal ecstasy. The groaned into one another mouths at first, but then the kiss was broken as they panted, fighting for air, their voices carrying around the woods they were in. He pushed up hard inside her, pulling down on her tits while she squeezed with all her might, his cum almost searing hot inside her, filling her up. Mark went limp, breathing heavily and clearly spent, not that he minded. Becky could barely move, bound in ropes of silken bliss that kissed every nerve in her body. Her own heartbeat plus the relentless throb of Mark's rigid cock, still oozing inside her, almost meant she didn't know how to center herself. But they relaxed together finally, kissing gently, eyes closed while they clasped hand on top of her tits. Tongues softly tangled, tasting one another while they let their rapture slowly ebb. Minutes passed and they lay silently, waiting for Mark's cock to soften so Becky could sit up. Finally, she giggled, squeezing his hands. "Feels like somebody doesn't wanna go to sleep," she said cutely, wiggling her ass on him, feeling her ass refusing to relinquish its hard-earned prize. "What're we gonna do?" "Iono," he said drowsily. "We just wait, I guess. If I try to have another orgasm right now, I'm pretty sure he'd just spontaneously combust inside you." "Alas, poor cock," she cooed, stroking his cheek. "I guess we happily wait, then." They closed their eyes and relaxed, waiting for Mark's erection to subside so that they could get up without difficulty. Their hands remained at rest on her tits while they nuzzled their cheeks together. Then there was a 'click!' sound. Arrest in Flagrante delicto. Becky's eyes snapped open and she goggled up at a man dressed in rather colorful and opulent period clothing, staring down at them as he pointed a flintlock rifle at their face. Looking around, she now saw they were surrounded by men carrying pikes and muskets, all of whom stared at the naked couple with varying level of interest. The man directly over them moved his musket muzzle, indicating they should sit up. Mark's eyes were open by now and he glanced around in confusion as well, clearly not understanding what had happened. The man's eyes narrowed and he moved the musket muzzle again. Becky, sensing the danger they were suddenly in, tried to move, but shivered; she was still impaled on Mark's solid cock, which had shown no signs of softening and kept her pinned against him. She couldn't get up. "Great time to develop priapism, Mark;” she said sourly. "Maybe Louis the Sun King's France just isn't for us after all," Mark sighed as he hiked along behind Becky, who had been stuffed hurriedly back into her dress while he was allowed to put on his breeches again. Neither of them even had shoes on as they followed the soldiers. Their hands were tied behind their backs. "This is twice now that we've;“ "I know, Mark, I was there," Becky said somewhat tersely, wondering if Chester Edgeworth was now someone she had to add to her shit list. She hated adding names to the shit list. "I guess we were so busy fucking that the event our host meant for us to witness has found us." "Tais-tois!" one of the men guarding them said as he walked nearby with a musket. "Vou ne pouvez-pas parler!" Becky scowled at the man and continued trudging. She wasn't really embarrassed about being caught fucking, it wasn't the first time it had happened to them here in France. But at least this lot had the decency to let her have an orgasm first before taking them prisoner. She couldn't even enjoy the grass stains on her clothes! They had exited the woods and were now tromping through a field, heading toward a much larger cluster of soldiers. Mark couldn't help but notice that a lot of them were wearing red. "Shit;” Becky muttered as she saw them as well. "That's all we need." "Huh?" Mark asked, but he was silenced when a soldier shoved him roughly from behind with his musket, indicating he was to stay quiet. They approached the encampment and Mark soon realized there were several hundred soldiers. The tents were spread out around one rather illustrious red tent of grand size. He then saw a cluster of cavaliers milling about and they seemed to be headed in that direction. Soldiers stared at them as they entered the perimeter of the camp, usually at Becky. Mark and Becky found themselves hauled in front of the cavaliers, who parted, making way for a single man on horseback. He was at least middle-aged, with a somewhat grey pallor to his skin and thin, hawk-like features. His expression was a rather lemony one, as if he felt inconvenienced by this entire incident. For all that, though, his dark eyes glinted with intelligence. He was wearing the flowing red habits of a high-ranking member of the Catholic church, although he had a burnished breastplate on his chest as well. "You stand in the presence of his Eminence, the Cardinal Richelieu," announced the captain of the troops that had taken them prisoner. Mark's eyes went wide. He didn't speak French, but he'd seen enough Three Musketeers movie reboots to know who Cardinal Richelieu was and exactly what sort of deep shit they were suddenly in. "Show respect!" Becky dropped to one knee and bowed her head, looking at the ground. Mark rapidly followed suit, since she probably had a better grasp of the situation than he did. He could feel everyone's eyes and on them and it was beginning to weigh heavily, like a yoke around his neck. His face flushed, but he said nothing. "Who are these persons?" the cardinal asked finally. "Your names, my children." "My name is Rebecca, your Eminence," Becky said humbly, still not looking up. "And you, good sir?" the Cardinal asked, looking over at Mark now. "M; me llamo Marco del strade, tu Eminencia." Mark stammered. "A Spaniard," mused the Cardinal, pursing his lips. "In the presence of a peasant girl. And you both have unusual accents, I admit." "Your Eminence," said one of the captains, looking at them suspiciously. "This man, why is he here traipsing about Champagne like this? With this peasant girl? We found them in the woods, doing unspeakable carnal acts to one another." The Cardinal's eyebrow arched and he looked on in seeming distaste. "You don't say." "Very likely he is a spy for King Phillip, your Eminence!" said the captain, almost sneering. "No, your Eminence," Becky said suddenly, her voice full of concern. "I assure you, he is no spy!" Mark hadn't heard or understood everything the Frenchmen were saying to one another, but he understood 'espion' and his teacher's reaction indicated that he was in some kind of trouble. Go figure. "And what grounds can you give me to believe you, child?" the Cardinal asked with feigned interest. "Please," she begged, her head still bowed. "You have my utmost assurances he is no spy, he's an idiot!" This made the men around them laugh and even Richelieu grunted in amusement. "Both of you rise." Mark saw Becky get to her feet and he did the same. All around them, men with pikes and muskets were watching them warily, some of them levelling weapons at the pair. Clearly they took the Cardinal's safety seriously. Richelieu observed them with interest. "The girl is very unusual," he mused. "Tall, very healthy and very beautiful. Very, very beautiful. I know only one other of such unmatched attractiveness." Mark wasn't sure where this was going, but he doubted it was good. The Cardinal's interest in him was waning. "And yet you say you found her acting in a most carnal and un-ladylike manner in the woods, hmm?" Richelieu continued. "Well, it certainly won't do for her to be out here alone in the countryside, rutting like a nymph, would it? Perhaps her majesty could make use of the girl, once we fix her atrocious accent." "My what?" Becky snapped, looking offended now. "Put her in the cart, we'll bring her to the capital, with regards to the Queen." Richelieu declared, turning his horse about and riding off. Men began to try and wrangle Becky into one of the carts, many of them laughing and leering as they took the opportunity to grope her. Gut shot. "Hey, stop that!" Mark said angrily, surging forward, but he suddenly found himself confronted by a captain, who stared at him impassively. There was a sudden and frightfully loud 'crack!' sound and Mark halted suddenly, his eyes wide. Becky's head snapped around at the noise and her eyes went wide. Blinking, Mark slowly looked down and saw there was a very red puncture hole in his abdomen. Sounds slowed down, taking on an almost syrupy quality and he started to feel confused. Becky screamed and tried to force her way to him, but she was being hustled away by many guards. The man who had shot him wandered off, sliding his flintlock pistol back into a holster, clearly no longer caring about Mark. Everyone seemed to be wandering off now. He felt cold, and vaguely nauseous. The ugly red wound in his stomach pulsed, blood welling from it slowly. He felt himself toppling over, white light bathing the field around him. He could still see things, but they seemed distant. He tried to focus on something, finally identifying Becky's voice as she screamed for him. He could just make out the soldiers wrestling her into a cart while she struggled and kicked savagely, her face contorted in rage. "I'll Get You For This, Richelieu!" she roared as Mark's world was absorbed by the soft white light. "You Just Made The Shit List Of High Doom!! See If I Ever Dance A Sarabande For You, Pal!" Mark bolted upright suddenly, gasping. His eyes were wide and he was covered in sweat. His heart thundered in his chest and he fought to control his panic. The white light was slowly replaced by close walls of grey stone. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing. His hands bunched against sheets that were covering him. Finally, he could breathe normally and he tried to organize his thoughts. He still felt confused, everything a total jumble. "Calm yourself. Think!" He'd been fucking Becky in the woods. Apparently they were waiting for Cardinal Richelieu to go by, which he guessed passed for a historical event, seeing the man. But the Cardinal's soldiers heard the two of them and took them prisoner. Then they took Becky and Mark tried to stop them and got shot in the stomach; His eyes snapped open and he was frozen in place. He forced himself to look down at his middle, seeing that he was still covered in a sheet. His hand was trembling as he moved it slowly toward the heavy, dun-colored blanket, sweat trickling from his brow as he felt fear rise in his throat. He flung away the sheet suddenly, unable to bear not knowing. He wasn't bleeding. There was no puncture wound, only a strange, round scar about two inches in diameter. Eyes wide, he slowly lifted his head and looked around, now noticing his environs; he was indeed in a small bedroom, the curtains drawn to keep out the light and very little in the way of décor. Just a chair and a table in one corner, some other surfaces with candles spaced around the room. His bed was solid and comfortable. "Ah, there you are," Chester Edgerton said as he came through the door. "I was beginning to think you had no intentions of waking up." "Where;” Mark said somewhat feebly. "Back at my place," Chester answered, sitting down in the chair and settling in for what was no doubt going to be a long and perhaps trying conversation. "I found you lying in the middle of the field nearly a kilometer from where I'd left you and you were very close to dead." "How did I;” "You should have died," Chester continued. "But ultimately you wouldn't have, due to a time lock, I'm assuming. You weren't meant to die there in that field. Luckily for you, there are still plenty of ways to get yourself killed for doing absurd things." "Why did you leave us in the first place?" Mark asked. "I've been around Richelieu and several of his captains at various points in the time stream, and it's getting difficult to manage," Chest replied, shrugging. "Best way to deal with that issue is to simply not be present." "So why leave us there?" "To see Richelieu, of course," the man said simply. "One of history's truly great men, certainly more so than that twit of a king he serves. I was just trying to ease you into the idea of witnessing historical events. It never occurred to me that you'd be found because you made your teacher yodel like a Swiss Miss when you flagranting the delicto with her. I admit I hadn't planned for that nonsense." Mark blushed. "So, what, I wasn't meant to die here, so my body just healed itself?" Chester laughed. "Oh, no, dear boy, nothing of the sort. I came back to the woods, as promised, as when you weren't there, I began noticing the tracks of many solid shoes and boots in the vicinity. Not to mention the clothes you left behind." "Yeah, sorry, I was kinda tied up at the moment." Mark muttered. "In any event, I followed the tracks, noticed that Richelieu had broken camp and then found you. You'd been lying there for nearly three hours, you should have been dead from blood loss, but you weren't. I brought you back here, removed the ball from your stomach and then healed you." "You can do that?" Mark asked. "I thought you said you were a dealer in chroniques." "It helps to have a few irons in the fire and some hidden talents if you're going to mess around in the time stream," Chester replied. "But I was under no obligation to complicate my life and save you." "I guess I'm glad you did," Mark sighed. "Thanks. But wouldn't I have healed anyway?" "Yes, but maybe not fully," replied the enigmatic dealer. "You might've been found by some local peasants, brought back to their hovel and spent life as a weakened vegetable until you died of the Plague. People die in the past all the time, Mark, and everyone in their own era thinks they just disappeared and mourns them. It's frightfully common." "Can I; can I see the tools you used to heal me?" Mark asked hopefully. "Nope," Chester replied, shaking his head. "They're from your future by a few hundred years, the only reason I used them at all was because you were out cold." "Uh, how long was I out, anyway?" "Almost a month," Chester answered, smoothing a corner of his pencil moustache. "I had you fully healed and ready for action by the next day, to be honest, but you just refused to come to. So, I just left you to it, figuring you would wake up when you felt like it." "Oh, shit," Mark breathed, realizing something. "Where's Becky?" Chester raised his hands. "Why would I know? I wasn't there. What do you remember?" Mark tried to concentrate while Chester got up and poured a glass of water. Mark drank it thirstily and placed the glass on the table. He found himself wishing that he'd taken French instead of Spanish in school. He'd thought Spanish might be more useful, but all it did was get him shot. Fuck that. "I don't really speak French, so this is hard. Umm; they thought I was a spy because they thought I was Spanish." "Because you've been presenting yourself as Spanish while you're here," Chester mused. "In spite of your outrageous accent. France has been at war with Spain on and off for some time now." "Whatever," Mark grumbled. "They seemed really interested in Becky." "To be expected, she is quite lovely. I dare say I've only known one woman in this entire era to match her beauty." "Well, I think I heard them say 'capital', and then I think 'la reigne', which means queen, right?" "Indeed it does," Chester agreed. "My bet, then, is that your teacher has been taken by the Cardinal to be presented as a gift to her majesty, Queen Anne, to serve as one of her ladies-in-waiting." "Why would he do that?" Mark asked, frowning. "I've seen enough Three Musketeers movies to know that the Cardinal and the Queen hate each other." Chester smiled. "It's a game he plays with her. As the years go on, Anne is, sadly, getting 'a little long in the tooth', to borrow a phrase. She remains dignified and regal, but her best days are behind here, where attractiveness is concerned. Richelieu now takes great delight in surrounding her with women of magnificent beauty, seemingly a gesture of devotion, but really meant to hurt the queen's feelings." "What a dick." Mark muttered. "You have no idea," Chester said dryly. "If they got her back to the city roughly a week after she was taken, then she's been with the royal court for three." "Meaning that she's either loving life as a lady-in-waiting, or she's killed and eaten them all," Mark said heavily. "I guess I have to go get her." "I can't imagine this not being amusing," Chester said, smirking. "But out of morbid curiosity, how, exactly, will you affect this rescue?' "I dunno," Mark said, shrugging. "But I can't leave her. She'd kill me." "She probably thinks you're dead, I feel obliged to point out." Chester mentioned. "She saw you suffer a mortal wound at point-blank range. You should be dead and only an as-yet undetermined temporal snarl has kept you alive. I wouldn't count on that again if I were you." "Well I can't do nothing!" Mark insisted in frustration. Chester tilted his head, observing his guest for a moment. "Do you love this woman?" Mark blushed furiously. "I; no, I don't love her, or if I do, then I'm not in love with her. There's a difference, ya' know." "Well and truly said, Boccaccio," Chester chuckled. "Well, if there's no stopping you, then I'll see what I can do to discretely help you." "Why?" Mark queried. "I've got a friggin' time machine. All I need to do is get there, zip in and zip out." "Correct me if I am wrong," interjected his host. "But did you not tell me, early on in our association, that your current self is from three months in the future of the Miss Rebecca that I know." Mark nodded. "And you plan to add another layer of temporal travel on top of that wedding cake of disaster?" Chester mused. "Rebecca could be subtly altering the timelines in Paris now with her very presence, involuntary as it might be. Your oh-so-carefully laid plan could simply not work because of a slight temporal consideration." "So you're saying no time machine." Mark stated flatly, not impressed. "I'm saying the idea is bad. Atari Jaguar bad," Chester replied. "If you intend to do this hare-brained thing, allow me to assist you in what moderate ways I can." "What, you've got some funky tech or weapons you can loan me?" "We'll see about that, but more importantly, I guess I'll call in a favor. A certain person who moves in the circle of the royal court owes me a small boon, and I can use it to assist you. They happen to be an accomplished master of intrigue and getting out of sticky situations, with a blade if necessary." Mark's eyes lit up. "Is it D'Artagnan?" "Only if you want to get Clock-Hammered out of existence," Chester laughed, shaking his head. "Everybody wants to meet Charles de Batz, thinking they're going to see D'Artagnan of Three Musketeers fame, and then it just turns out he's a bad-tempered Gascon who loves to punch people who bother him. He's punched more time-travelers than Jesus, I'm pretty sure." Chester then went over to a drawer and rummaged around inside it, finally pulling out a yellowing envelope that was sealed with wax. "I assure you, the agent I am referring you to will be much more effective than D'Artagnan. I will send you with instructions about where in Paris to meet them and offer them this envelope. Warning, though, if they see it is opened, they will simply refuse to help and go away to where you cannot find them. Are you strong enough to keep from opening the letter?" Mark nodded. "Well, then," Chester announced, opening a bottle of wine and pouring two cups. "Shall we drink a toast to your success, o Macro del Strade of Seville?" Palace Mission. Mark was sitting on the back of a hay wagon, wondering if he could really pull this insane plan off. In addition to the letter, Chester Edgeworth had indeed furnished him with a few small devices and curious that they hopefully would help him, though it cost him almost all the rest of his money. Chester pointed out he was a businessman and didn't intend to take a loss just because some idiot created a time crisis for himself. Fair enough. Mark tried not to play with the little bud that sat deep in his ear; Chester had sold it to him, saying that it could translate languages, speaking into Mark's ear whatever he was focusing on. It could also possibly formulate phrases; if he spoke in English, it could tell him the closest translation to what he was saying. This model was old, though, and only spoke the French of this period. Chester didn't want him getting any clever ideas with a more powered-up version, since if something bad happened, it might come back on him. The reasoning initially annoyed Mark, but the more he thought about it, he reminded himself that he was here to rescue Becky. Nothing else. He thought about the conversation he'd had with their host while drinking wine and planning his initial move, heading to Paris. "So why did you begin time-travelling at all?" the man had asked. "Well, I;” Mark started saying, unsure of how to answer. "I found a time machine. Seems perfectly logical to use it." "Granted, but what's your personal motivation, Mark?" he asked. "Is it to see glorious historical events, are you a treasure hunter, a thrill-seeker who wants to run with the Dromaesaurs?" Mark blushed now. "Honest? I thought it'd be cool to have sex with women from history." To his amazement, Chester didn't laugh uproariously, he simply smiled and shrugged. "More common than you would think, especially amongst men your age, who are full of hormones. Let me ask, then; was getting laid in your own time-period difficult?" "Not really, no." "Well it's not any easier in the time stream, just so you know," Chester pointed out. "In some periods of history, it can be even harder, where religious fervor runs rampant and sexual repression is the law of the land. I assume you wouldn't go as far as to rape a girl." Mark shook his head. "Lots of men do when they find out that having sex in the past is harder than they anticipated," Chester said almost sadly, shaking his head. "You're one of the better ones. But for all that, the problem remains; getting into bed or a rug with Cleopatra is pretty much next to impossible. You might as well hope to seduce Scarlett Johansson when you're no one in particular." "Hey, I got Becky, didn't I?" Mark had protested. "Dumb luck, really, and she's a remarkable woman. Have you had sex with any women aside from Becky since you came to the Sun King's France?" He shrugged. "A few, I shared 'em with Becky." "Peasants, I assume?" "Mostly, yeah," Mark admitted. "There was one sophisto girl, but Becky did the talking and charmed the knickers off her for us." "If it weren't for Becky, you'd be completely out of your league here, boyo," Chester said simply. "And trust me, it won't get easier. Even history buffs who think they know everything get caught and pay the price. There's the history you know, the history you don't know, and the history that you don't know that you don't know." "What?" "What year did World War Two end?" Chester asked. "Simple. 1945." "So you know that. What year did the Crimean War start?" "I've heard of it, but I don't know anything about it." "Something you know that you don't know. Okay, tell me about the League of Ages Twelfth Nicean Temporal Council." "The what?" "Exactly," Chester had said emphatically, leaning forward and pointing with his wine glass to make a point. "An incredibly important historic event that you've never even heard of, but it happened all the same. Can you imagine trying to do something that conflicted with that? You wouldn't even know what clock-hammered you, or why; because only a practiced temporal traveler would be aware of the event at all. Time travel can be tedious." "It's certainly becoming less and less fun by the moment." Mark grumbled. "Probably the smartest thing you've said since you found that Holmes-Field Device," Chester agreed. "Life would be a lot easier if casual nitwits like yourself walked the other way when a time machine appeared in their path." "But don't you make a living selling to people like me?" Mark asked. "Hardly," Chester almost snorted. "Nitwits like you rarely have anything to even pay me with and usually require drastic amounts of assistance. No, my friend, the majority of my income is derived from customers who hail from the far future where time travel is an established industry and carefully regulated. Now those people are my bread and butter." "Did Becky and I really stand out?" Mark asked somewhat dully. "More and more with each passing moment," Chester answered. "You're too tall, too healthy, you have all your teeth, and your accents are absurd." Mark said nothing. "And by the way," added his host. "Those little packets of Airborne that you both carry in your pockets? The little Vitamin C boost things to ward off the sniffles? I can guarantee you that those will in no way, shape or form protect you from illnesses in this era. Only thing it'll do is turn your piss such a bright yellow that people will think you're possessed and the Inquisition will burn you." Mark ended up leaving the packets as a curio that Chester could sell to people from the future who wanted to snicker at how dumb people from the turn-of-the-millennium were. Carting to Paris. He had arranged transport to Paris with the wagon he was now on, making sure the farmer put some extra perk in his horse's step by offering him twice as many sou as was normal. The journey, which would normally take a week, with good weather, was promised to six days because of the extra money. Whatever the difference was between six-day speed and seven-day speed, Mark sure couldn't tell it. His communication with the farmer had been sluggish, certainly, mostly on his end, because he would try to say exactly what his little translator bud told him and he probably sounded like he'd had a stroke when he was speaking. The farmer laughed at his speech, but still did as he was asked. Mostly they slept at the side of the road in the piled hay, but one night they stayed in a roadside inn. Mark's funds were running out fast, even though the food he ate was paltry and rather unappetizing. He had to reach Paris. They then trundled through the town where Mark and Becky had first come to; and Mark hid himself in the straw, figuring it was best to not be seen by people whom he might be familiar with. Even if the innkeeper's two daughters would no doubt readily fuck him again. He fought the temptation to ignore Chester's instructions and simply go get his Holmes-Field Device and use it to rescue his teacher. But he disciplined himself and refrained, he was in enough trouble as it is.  Then he meditated; Known knowns. Known unknowns. Unknown unknowns. Fuck. The days and nights passed with Mark trying to keep himself from growing crazy by practicing his French and thinking of his plan. He had no idea whatsoever about what to do once he reached Paris. Get inside the royal palace? He couldn't exactly Google the plans for it, could he? "Regardez la!" the farmer said finally, calling back to Mark and pointing toward the west. As the sun was rising behind them, he could make out a sprawling sea of darkness in the distance, the silhouette of which prickled the sky. Endless plumes of smoke hung over the city as deep grey gave way to dawn behind them. He thought it might actually be pretty. And then the wind wafted over them from the west, bringing the unique scent of fabled Paris. "Jesus!" Mark croaked as he turned green, leaning over the side of the wagon and puking his guts out while the farmer roared with laughter. They entered the city. Mark wandered through the choking maze of streets, gaping at the chaos of architecture around him; houses seemed to almost be built on top of houses, to the place where some of them were leaning over almost drunkenly. The cobblestones of the road were wet and sticky with effluence, there was no way to avoid it. The stench was beyond belief. How had people ever lived like this? He had asked on repeated occasions where he could find La Rue de Grenuie, the place Chester had told him he would find the agent he'd referred to. Mark was reasonably certain most people were being helpful, even if they stared at him like he was an alien. He might as well have been, he was a head taller than just about everyone, clearly well-fed and had all his teeth. Mark had seen jack-o-lanterns with more teeth than most of the denizens of Paris' infamous streets. He took many wrong turns, because where he thought people had told him to go was often a dead end. Eventually, by divine providence, he found himself on the street he'd been asking for, evidenced by an ancient, worn rectangle of wood that said the name in faded green letters. Certain he was on the right track, he headed down the crowded street, stuffing his purse into the front of his breeches, since Chester had told him Paris was home to countless scoundrels who could remove his wealth without him even noticing. The crowds began to thin out somewhat, and the street got narrower, as if that was possible. The cobblestones were also surprisingly dry, not sticky or running with the sewage of the city behind him. Before long, it was barely wide enough to accommodate one person and he felt very uneasy about the rickety buildings that loomed over his head, almost blocking the sky. He then stopped in front of a black iron fence, pitted with age and with a chain wrapped around it. He tilted his head and unwrapped the chain, finding that the gate now swung open freely and with decidedly little noise. He stepped in, closed it behind himself and then fixed the chain back in place as best he could. He found himself walking through a tunnel, the buildings about him now made of stone. Dank and foreboding, he resisted the urge to run, not knowing what lay ahead. Eventually, he came to a small, bare courtyard. It might have been thirty feet by thirty feet and was devoid of almost all decoration. High brick and stone walls concealed it from the chaos of Paris. It was surprisingly quiet, as if the city dared not disturb the austere serenity. There was a single, grey stone bench in the middle of the courtyard. Facing away from him, clad in a great cloak, was a person, the hood thrown over their head to keep the merciless sun off them. Mark swallowed and took a deep breath before beginning to move forward. Was this Chester's agent? If he was, Mark had to be careful, because he'd been told the man was dangerous. He approached slowly, finally coming to a stop some five paces away, still facing the stranger's back. "Hello," he said faltering French. "My name is Mark. I have; sent; to you; today; for big help. I is need big help." "That you do, my friend," replied the person in a strangely lyrical voice. Then closed a small book of devotionals wwhich had clearly been studied and stood, still facing away. "That much is obvious, because your French is painful." Mark blushed in embarrassment as the translator bud told him what the person had said. Still concealed beneath their voluminous midnight-blue cloak, the mysterious person turned around and approached him. He resisted the urge to take a step back as the shrouded presence stood right in front of him. He couldn't help but notice the person was on the taller side, strange for a Parisian. Gloved hands pulled down the hood and Mark's eyes widened in amazement. Shining golden hair spilled in luxurious tresses down the person's back. The eyes were a dazzling blue, glinting with intelligence. The smile was serene, the teeth within white and perfect. Lady Alexandra. <

The Time Riders: Part 2 When you've got a time machine, practice makes perfect. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Always The Student. Mark was lying on his back, panting while Becky squirmed and writhed on top of him, moaning in pleasure. His hands were on her opulent tits, kneading them just how she loved it. The lovers were covered in sweat as she ground her cunt down onto his cock, taking him deep inside. He matched her sensual rhythm, pushing up while she pressed down, squeezing his shaft with each thrust he made. "Yes, Mark;” she gasped, her hands resting on his chest while she writhed on him shamelessly. It didn't matter that she was his former high school Physics teacher, or even that she still was, in a sense, she was committed to fucking him because she'd promised herself she'd enjoy this, and Becky did her damdest to always follow her own advice. "Yes, baby, right there;” Becky now began gyrating her hips in a circle on top of him, interrupting the rhythm that would certainly had led to both of them cumming and she wanted to prolong this session. She felt Mark regain control of himself, adapting to the new pace, although he continued to molest her tits, pinching and tugging on her nipples. Her flawless skin glistened with her exertions, the wonderful scent of a woman making love permeating the air. "Hmm, good boy," she purred, smiling down at him. "You're learning." "I've got the best teacher I could ask for." Mark replied, grinning back. "Forget all the time travel stuff you're helping me figure out, you're amazing in bed, Becky. I've never cum so hard before, not like when I'm with you." "You're so sweet, darling," she cooed, reveling in the feel of his throbbing cock deep inside her. Ever since that night he'd snuck into her home and failed so miserably at trying to seduce her so she would change his Physics grade, they'd become ardent lovers, with her being nearly as addicted to their sex as he was. "You make me cum really hard too, just so you know. And the gift you brought me back from London was so thoughtful. How would you like to fuck me next?" Mark nodded, pondering her question. He had indeed brought her back a gift, from London in the 1880's. He'd come back with a lovely dress from the period and a bottle of Italian wine. Even though she had never accompanied him on a temporal trip (except that very first one, to prove he had a time machine at all), she seemed to have an innate understanding of how to time travel without screwing things up, which was very easy. He took hold of her hips and slowly rolled her onto her stomach. She purred as she pushed her legs together and then knelt over her thighs. She put her chin on her arms and sighed as he pulled her ass cheeks apart and pushed his cock down into her cunt. Her clamped legs made her feel tighter than ever and he groaned in pleasure as he bottomed out. Keeping himself up on his hands, his back arched so that she was pinned beneath him, he began to piston his hips, fucking his teacher. "Oh, Mark;” she murmured. "It's so good this way. Your cock feels so wonderful inside me." "Uh, God;” he breathed, shuddering as she squeezed her cheeks together, clamping her cunt around him as he thrust. "I never wanna stop fucking you." "I don't want you to," she gasped as he hit her sweet spot. "And because you; oh; have your time machine; we can find a way; to fuck forever;” She squirmed and writhed beneath him while he pushed up and down on her, both of them getting slick with sweat. They groaned and panted together. He leaned down and bit her shoulder Becky keened in pleasure. Trembling, she arched her hips, pushing up against him. She could feel his cock twitching and swelling inside her. "Gonna cum;” he breathed, pushing down and straining. "Uh! Yes, cum in me, Mark!" she wailed. She pressed her face into a pillow as she screamed, feeling her student's cum spurting inside and filling her spasming cunt. Mark shook and groaned loudly, so glad they were in her house and could be as loud as they needed to be. Her slammed his hips down onto her, tingling pleasure blossoming through him. Mark collapsed on top of her, both of them limp and breathing heavily. He reached under Becky and put his hands on her tits, squeezing gently. She hummed and undulated her soft cheeks beneath him, milking his cock for all of his cum, her wet cunt wanting every last drop. They said nothing for several minutes, just lying there in bliss. Becky finally slowly turned over, Mark's cock slipping out of her and they wrapped their arms around each other, kissing deeply. He pushed his still-hard cock back in and moved back and forth gently inside her and she squeezed him in rhythm. Tongues tangled and they hummed contentedly into one another's mouths. "God, I want to find a way to have multiples of you fucking me all at once," she purred, smiling into his eyes and caressing his cheek. "One in my cunt, one in my ass, another in my mouth; hmm, that sounds heavenly." "Yeah, but won't I, like, blow up spontaneously, or collapse the universe if I encounter myself?" he asked somewhat warily. He liked the idea of fucking all Becky's holes, but not if it made everything go boom. She giggled and bopped his nose. "Silly. Why are you asking me? You're the one with access to this time-travel police force. What did you say they were called? TEA?" "Yeah, they said they're called the Temporal Enforcement Agency." Mark confirmed. "I called them Teabaggers and they didn't think that was funny." "Oh, be nice to them, darling," she chided gently. "After all, they're protecting the timeline for crazy kids like you." "Yeah, I guess," he admitted, knowing she was infinitely more sensible than him about these things. She was already so much smarter at this temporal stuff than he was. The only reason his little trip to 1800's London went well was because she'd prepped him and made him think it through. "Getting myself killed is apparently pretty easy." "Boo, and then we couldn't fuck anymore," she said, sounding sad. "And even if you stopped time-travelling tomorrow, I'd still want to fuck you. You've unleashed a demon in me." "I know it," he laughed. "I have to rest a few days after our marathon fuck sessions, only to come back in your next day to keep up with your libido. Not that I'm complaining, mind." She giggled. "Well I do love to fuck," she agreed. "Maybe one day, I'll go with you. I'd love to fuck in a harem bath house or a Parisian brothel." Mark rolled off her and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He could almost see the steam rising off them. As tricky as time travel was, he never would have ended up in bed with his Physics teacher if it hadn't been for his time machine. "That chronometer the agents gave me comes in really handy," he said, his thoughts drifting. "It actually gives me little warnings if I'm getting too close to another temporal event. It means I can't do some things I'd like to do, but things get complicated." She smiled. "You said they called it 'the Limelight Effect' or getting clock hammered, depending on what you were trying to do." He nodded. "They didn't like it when I called it 'clock-blocking'." "You said they had no sense of humor." Becky mused. "But maybe practicing with your Holmes Field Device in minor ways will help." He turned and looked at her. "How so?" "Well," she began, turning on her side to look at him, her hand propping up her head. Her nipples gently kissed the skin of his arm. "How about you take me out for dinner? We'll pick a low-traffic area, somewhere time travelers don't go. You said that your chronometer dials are difficult to physically turn and the Holmes Field device always skews numbers if you're trying to get anywhere that would prove troublesome." He considered what she was saying. "So, take you to some remote village in the past where no one else is ever interested in going. We can try finessing my control of the device." She nodded. "Precisely. I don't know about you, but I speak flawless French, we could visit a little village in France's past and we could get some dinner. You could learn how to deal with the locals, get a feel for what you'll have to do if you keep travelling the time stream." "It's weird how you can say words like 'time stream' so naturally, like it's normal," he sighed. "Still, you're right, careful practice is probably a good thing." "It'll be fun," she said, reaching over and taking hold of his hip to turn him into her. Her tits were now squashed to his chest, his soft cock against her gooey cunt. "How bad a teacher can I be for this? You made it through my physics class without tearing a hole in reality." "And yet I failed," he sighed. "I doubt I can fuck my way out of every bit of trouble I get myself into." She giggled and took his hand, pulling him off the bed and leading him to the bathroom. She sat down on the toilet to pee while she stroked his cock gently, She shivered as she peed, feeling his cum trickling of her, pulling him closer and taking him in her mouth. She hummed as she bobbed back and forth, enjoying their mingled taste. Mark had to admit that he was enjoying how relaxed she was around him now that they were lovers. "So," she said finally, pulling his cock out of her mouth with a quiet pop. "We'll shower and get cleaned up. Then we'll head to the public library to figure out where and what we're doing. Anybody asks, I'll say I'm helping you with your schoolwork." He smiled slyly, feeling a familiar tingle in his cock at the thought of showering with her. This was going to be a good night. "So here's a question," she remarked as she watched Mark get dressed in the outfit they'd bought for the occasion, hidden from prying eyes in her basement, where he kept the Holmes Field Device. They'd visited a costume shop and found clothing that was a good fit for the period they were visiting, that being France in the 1600's. "Did they ever tell you about any contacts you can make in the time stream? You know, like dealers?" He looked at her quizzically. "Dealers?" "Sure," she said, nodding. "There must be time-travelers who make their living by providing goods and services to other travelers. I mean, you need to be able to get money and supplies somewhere, so that you don't stick out like a sore thumb, right?" "Yeah, that'd make sense," he admitted. "I mean, I got lucky when I tried going to London and got that dress, I managed to pawn off some knick-knacks I'd brought with me, because I didn't know how else to pay for anything. And they thought I was just some ignorant American. I got out a lot quicker than I thought I would." "I think we should find out," she reasoned. "If you're going to do this, you should really learn how to find what you need." "Exactly how much time-travelling do you think I'm gonna be doing?" he asked, giving her a wry look before continuing to put on his new outfit. "Well, we know you have no future as a physicist, maybe you'll find something you're good at in the time stream," she giggled, making him sigh. She moved forward to help him get into his clothes, since he clearly had no idea what he was doing. "And even if you don't know how to find a dealer, I'm willing to bet that they'll know how to find a traveler." He couldn't argue with that logic and stood still while she corrected his attire, kissing his nose as she finished. He then watched as she got into her own period garb, doing so much more efficiently than he had done. She saw him looking at her and winked. "In spite of my physics major, I also did a lot of work in theater," she quipped, holding her top loosely in place over her opulent tits. "I've been in Les Mis a few times, so I know my way around period garb." "I feel bad about you bringing that jewelry to trade for money," he said, wishing he had more to offer. He didn't just yet, however. "Oh, they're nothing, it's just old gold I never wear," she said dismissively. "I'd probably just end up selling them in a pawn shop at some point. This way, at least it's getting some use. I sell these things I never wear, we get the proper currency, then we go and have some fun. I don't see how this can be a bad thing." "I guess I just feel like it should be me paying." Mark murmured, trying not to blush. "Silly," she giggled again. "You're an eighteen year-old boy. What one earth could you possibly have accumulated that the time stream would be interested in?" "Well, you got me there," he sighed, giving up and letting her continue. "Maybe I'll make it big in the time stream and then I can keep you buying you the presents you deserve." "Ooh, you honey-dripper," she cooed, smiling and kissing his nose before stepping back and examining him. "Well, you're starting to look the part. I'll use some gel in your hair to tousle it a little and then I think we're probably as close as we can get, since neither of us has syphilis or tuberculosis." He waited while she fixed his hair and then took care of her own, pulling her golden locks back in a bow. She was wearing a peasant dress, one that accentuated her small waist and large bust. His outfit, was more akin to a gentleman of northern Europe, with a blue vest and white breeches that he found rather tight, especially around the crotch. "So, milord," she lilted, threading her arm through his and smiling at him. "Shall we sally forth?" He nodded and walked over toward the time machine, his chronometer in hand. 17th Century, France. "Combien allez-vous me donner pour ce pendentif?" Becky asked the owner of the dingy little shop they were standing in. Candles flickered on the walls, dimly illuminating the musty room. The shop-owner, a wizened little man wearing crooked spectacles, looked up her with rheumy eyes. He held out a gnarled hand and she gently put the dull gold bangle into it. Her brought it close to his face, examining it intently. He weighed it in his palm and then scratched the inner surface, testing its contents. He licked his lip as he considered her offering. Finally he put it down. "Onze Louis," he declared, nodding. "Onze Louis, quatre livres, douze sous et vingt-et-trois deniers." Mark looked at Becky, who was considering what he had told them. After a few seconds, she seemed to think he was being reasonable. "Bien. Tout en livres et sous, s'il vous plait." The man counted out one hundred and sixty-six sous and pushed them across the counter. His eyes widened slightly as she pushed a gold necklace and two rings to him for appraisal. Half an hour later, they exited the shop with a small purse containing the equivalent of nearly fifty Louis, a small fortune by the standards of the period and their locale. "Here you go, milord," she said sweetly, pressing the purse into his palm. "It's only appropriate that you carry our funds, since you're the one cosplaying as the aristocracy." "Except my French sucks balls." Mark muttered as they walked down the dirt road. It was mid-morning and they'd arrived in a fallow field outside the town. Google maps indicated that it was empty in the modern day and online archive maps from France in 1652 indicated that it was much the same way back then. With careful calculations of time and distance, they'd arrived without incident. "Well, you speak Spanish, so we'll pretend you're from Madrid or something," she said simply, holding his arm again. "And I'll be the lusty French tart from Rouen who travels with you, keeping you enamored with our fair country." "You'd be stupidly good at Larp, you're really getting into this," he sighed. Larp?” Live action role playing. Any other hidden talents I should know about?" Mark inquired. "If I told you then they wouldn't be surprises," she pointed out. "We women love to be mysterious." "Well, at least you're a woman, most of the girls I know who do that stuff are just crazy." "That's because they're teenage girls, who are, by definition, 'bugfuck insane'." Becky added. "A lot of women are too, I suppose, but at least there's a chance our hormones have straightened out. Probably not much different here, except for the mortality rate." They walked down the cobblestone rode, attracting the occasional stare as they walked into the town. They stopped a stout, middle-aged man and asked where they might get some decent food and accommodations. "You are dressed rather unusually to be walking," he said, looking at Mark. "You seem to be a gentleman of quality, sir. I am the town's physician and apothecary, my name is Henri. And yours, monsieur?" Mark stuttered. "Mark, uh; mon nom; es;” "Marco," Becky interjected suddenly, relieving him of the burden of struggling to make his name known in French. "He is Senor Marco Del Strade, and he is a baron from Valencia." "I thought I was from Madrid." Mark whispered out of the side of his mouth. "Shut the fuck up, I'm thinking on the fly here!" she hissed back. "What did the Spaniard say?" asked the portly physician. "That didn't sound Spanish." "A curse of our association," she said sweetly, beaming a radiant smile at him. "The baron speaks no French, and I no Spanish, so we communicate en Anglais, with which we both have some facility." "A rather unusual arrangement," grunted the man. "Nonetheless, it would not do for our humble town to allow a gentleman of quality to not be looked after. I would recommend L'Auberge Des Loups." "The Wolves' Inn?" Mark muttered out loud, knowing enough French to get that translation. "That doesn't sound too safe." "Be at ease, my friends," Henri said, chuckling. "The wolf is on our town coat of arms, and the Inn is our most reputable establishment. If you have the money, they will give you what you need." He turned and pointed down the road. "There, you can see the inn from this spot. The two-story building with the gambrel roof and all the smoke coming out of the chimney. See it?" "Yes, good sir, and we thank you." Becky said, curtseying before smiling at the man and putting his rather fat, gout-ridden hand in hers. "For all of your help." "Ah, well, yes," he said, blushing and withdrawing his hand from hers. "When you go to the inn, tell the proprietor that Henri sent you. This will make things easier for you." And with that, the man waddled off. "He seemed nice, I guess," Mark mused as they resumed their trek into the town. "I mean, I missed a lot of what you two said, but it seemed to agree with you." "We just need to mention his name when we get to the inn and that'll apparently make our lives easier." Becky replied, thinking how quaint everything was. She couldn't believe she was actually in seventeenth century France! But then, she was fucking her former student who was a time-traveler, so clearly anything was possible. She had already promised herself she would enjoy every moment of this experience. She'd chosen the year as carefully as possible, noting that there were no major Plague outbreaks mentioned and she had insisted they bring very discretely concealed medications with them. Ignoring the stares of the townsfolk, they continued down the main street until they reached the inn. They tacitly avoided stepping in the various effluences that trickled between the cobblestones and stepped over the unconscious peasants who were sprawled in the middle of the street before opening the faded green doors and entering. Dark and musty, lit by wall sconces and an ancient wrought-iron chandelier overhead in which guttered many candles, the large common room was like something out of an HBO special, minus the lighting budget. Large, round table dominated the space, while a great hearth and a long counter encompassed most of the back wall. Lots of sun-browned peasant faces turned to look at them while some stringed instrument plunked away from a corner. The place smelled of smoke and what was probably body odor. Still ignoring the stares, Becky led Mark up to the counter, behind which stood a surly-looking man with a black moustache and beard. He observed them with interest as they approached. Mark stood silently while Becky addressed the man in French. "My lord the Baron is looking for clean and welcoming accommodations for the night," she began, indicating Mark. "Henri sent us to you, saying that you were the establishment in this town worthy of his business." "If you can pay, then yes, we will be able to room you comfortably," he answered, looking at Mark. "Our best room is one livre per night. I assume the baron can afford this?" She looked at Mark now. "A single night is one livre. Those'd be the silver coins. Get one out and just give it to him, without showing how much you actually have." Mark nodded and fished out one of the coins indicated, putting it on the counter for the proprietor to inspect. Satisfied, the man nodded. "This will cover the room. If his lordship has need of a bath or food, we can provide these things as well." "Fresh food?" she asked pointedly. "Only the freshest for the lord," laughed the man loudly, causing people nearby to chuckle. "Is he a mute?" "No, he is Spanish and speaks no French," she said flatly, fixing the man with a hard look. "You can speak to me, his servant, if you feel the need to communicate. You can bring him food now, and your finest wine, good sir." She then turned and took Mark's arm, leading him over to an empty table in the corner, once again ignoring the gazes that followed them. She sat down and sighed, nodding. "We'll eat and then see about the room and a bath," she declared, looking around and taking everything in. "If it's big enough, I'm sure we can get into all sorts of trouble in the tub." "I'd like that," he said, finally relaxing. "I'm glad you're taking to this so easily, because I'm way out of my element. London in the 1880's was hard enough, and all I was doing was pretending I was an American traveler. France in the time of the Louis the Sun King, that's a little out of my league." "Don't worry, once you hit your stride, you'll do fine," she said gently, patting his hand. "I've just had more weird experiences over the course of my life than you have and am adapting a little quicker is all." A jug of wine, two goblets, some hearty bread with butter and some onions and cheese was brought over by a wench who looked like John Rhys-Davies in drag. She belched and tottered off, having delivered her goods. "Although I'm not so sure about adapting to that." Becky said, shaking her head to clear it of the image. She unstopped the jug and poured the dark red wine into their goblets while Mark portioned out the bread, butter, cheese and onions. They both dug in, finally realizing how hungry they were. "Oh, wow, that's good," Becky remarked, looking into her goblet, having tried the wine. "Just remember to eat a lot of bread and butter, Mark, or you'll have the hangover from hell." He'd never had a wine quite like this before and they quickly polished off the jug before ordering another. They finished their bread and cheeses before being presented with a roasted suckling pig and two pheasants, stuffed with local herbs. They enjoyed eating, but the wine was strong enough to eventually get through all the food they'd lined their stomachs with. Becky was giggling and tipsy within the hour. "I can't beli; believe we're here in France," she said, her head tilted to one side. "An' we're gonna fuck; in the tub; an' then in our room, because; because; defiling the timeline; sounds like fun. It's fun, you know, to fuck across history;” "It is," Mark agreed, not as drunk as Becky but still feeling rather buzzed. His tongue felt thick from the wine, which she had explained was not treated with any modern pasteurization process and therefore would be full of tannins and sediments they would need to account for or suffer an assured hangover. "And you're the person I'd want to do it with, Becks;” Becky giggled and slid her hand along his leg, finally arriving at his crotch and giving the bulged contained in the tight breeches a squeeze. "You're not; not a time cop; you're a time cock; timeless cock;” Some musicians had come in a few minutes earlier and were sitting in another corner of the common room. They struck up a lively tune on their lutes, fiddles and a small drum. Becky's eyes lit up as the music reached them. "Oh, I love this song!" she said loudly in English before hopping up from the table and dancing her way with abandon into the middle of the room. People watched on and began to clap and cheer as she stood on a table and began capering. "How the hell does she know this song?" Mark wondered, frowning as he watched his Physics teacher begin to dance and sing. Ah! Si mon moine voulait danser! Ah! Si mon moine voulait danser! Un capuchon je lui donnerais Un capuchon je lui donnerais Danse, mon moine, danse! Tu n'entends pas la danse Tu n'entends pas mon moulin, lon la Tu n'entends pas mon moulin marcher. Mark watched in wonder as she tottered back over and flopped onto the bench next to him, breathing heavily and perspiring. She grinned at him lopsidedly and winked, still obviously rather inebriated. "Why did you know the lyrics to that song?" he asked, utterly baffled. She poured herself more wine and drained her goblet in one gulp, with a very loud Gluck! noise. Clearly, she was intent on partying. "Went to; a Catholic school; run by nunsh;” she slurred, trying to fill her cup again. "Lotsh of shingin' to; keep our little teen girl mindsh; off sheksh; Fuckin' love that shong, used to shing that shong; all the' time; fuckin'; great to dansh to;” "Yes, I noticed," he said, nodding and smiling. "You were almost flashing your tits and your cunt at the; the patrons;” "They can peek; but no touchy;” she said, taking another drink. "Thish pushy; only for you; I think; we'll shee;” She turned and looked at him, her eyes glazed and her skin flush from her exertions. "We're here; together, Mark, but; if you; ya' shee a girl ya' wanna fuck; I'm okay with; with that. "Jus' don' get the crabs!" She had broken into a snickering fit, pressing her forehead against the table as she tried to not fall over completely. Mark was chuckling and feeling really good watching how silly his teacher was being. She looked up suddenly, trying to wear a serious expression. "But one thing," she cautioned, holding up a finger and wagging it at one of the Marks she was looking at. There were three of them, so she chose the one in the middle. "No, moren one thing, but th' one thing'sh; important;” She leaned forward to whisper to him. "Keep your dicky in your pantsh unlesh; unlesh you know she'sh eighteen; 'cush the lawsh right now; 'she prolly legal to fuck 'em younger; but; you're from our time; our time;” She glowered at him drunkenly. "An' we don' fuck 'em if they're not eighteen; ya' got it?" He nodded. "Eighteen or older. Got it. And you can; miss, you can' "Not mish," she interrupted, waving away his comment. "Becky. Not fuckin' mish, remember?" "Sorry," he intoned, letting out a belch and patting his chest. The wine and cheese tasted great but were really fucking with him. "I'll be better; remember;” "Well, what wash it I can do?" she asked. "You were gonna; shay; I could do; what wash it?" Mark thought about that for a moment, unable to push through the wine-induced haze in his head. "I don' remember;” They both broke into laughter, much to the amusement of nearby patrons. Becky had her head on the table again, giggling until Mark slammed his palm on it in an expression of entertainment, shocking her and making her yelp. They looked at one another and burst into more fits of laughter. They'd drained another jug and polished off the pig and pheasants. Mark felt incredibly full, and drunk. Becky could barely stand up and she asked Mark to take her arm and lead them over to the proprietor behind the long counter once again. She shook her head a few times to clear it and he waited patiently for her to speak. "Shir, we'll be needing the bath now, and our room," she said slowly, making sure she could be understood. "Would you be so kind ash to show ush the way?" He tilted his head slightly. "Comment?" "You just spoke to him in English, Becks." Mark told her. Her glassy eyes widened and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to die of embarrassment. "For fuck's sakes;” she muttered. She took a deep breath and repeated herself in labored French. He nodded and led them up the back, away from the common room. It took Becky fifteen minutes to get up the single flight of stairs because it wouldn't stop spinning. Mark sighed as he sat in the large, round wooden tub, his arms resting on the side while his hands gripped the rim. The steaming water splashed over the side as he shuddered and groaned loudly, cumming. Spent, he sank back onto the small ledge and breathed heavily. The water stirred and Becky surfaced, exhaling. Her golden hair clung to her wetly and her glorious tits glistened. She grinned at her student. "See?" she declared, obviously pleased as she pulled her hair over her shoulders. "Told you I could make you cum before having to surface for air." "Jesus, you must've been down there over two minutes," he breathed, never ceasing to be stunned by her carnal skills. "How the hell do you hold your breath that long?" Becky cricked her neck and settled onto Mark's lap, her arms around his neck. She gave him a peck on the nose. "Lots of cardio and physical training." "Obviously." Mark agreed. "Not that I'm complaining, mind." "Hmm, didn't think you would," she purred. "But only half of this equation has been solved, big boy. I haven't cum yet. Since you're friend down there is taking a nap, how good are you at holding your breath?" "Not that good," he chuckled. "I'm happy to lick your cunt, but you'll need to keep it above water." She smiled and rolled her eyes before getting off his lap. He moved aside and allowed her to kneel on the little ledge he'd been sitting on, leaning over the rim of the tub and resting her forearms on it. She looked back at him and winked while wiggling her sexy, toned behind him. Her cuntlips were dripping and looked inviting. Mark knelt in the middle of the tub, behind Becky's ass and took hold of it, kissing the wet cheeks. Becky cooed and squirmed under the attention, one of her hands cupping a tit and squeezing it. She could feel Mark's lips and tongue moving slowly inward toward her core. She bit her lip and sighed. He touched her cunt, kissing it gently and sliding his tongue up and down the twat, which parted easily before him. Her heard her moan and tasted her tang as he pushed inside her while using his thumbs to pull her inner thighs apart so he could get further into his teacher's snatch. She shivered and pushed back against him, eager for more. "Hmm, Mark;” she cooed, her eyes shut as she felt his tongue inside her. "Yes, right there, lover. Oh, you really know how to use your tongue;” He smiled at her compliment and pulled his tongue out to massage her clit with it, rolling around the little bud and making her gasp sharply. He slid a finger inside her, followed by another and she groaned. He could feel her cunt tightening around his digits and began to push them back and forth slowly while he nibbled and sucked her clit. Becky shuddered again and leaned down, biting at her knuckle while squeezing her tit harder, massaging it vigorously. Mark lashed her clit while fingering her tight twat and then slid a single finger into her ass. Her breath caught in her throat and she gripped the ledge of the tub, her fingers raking along the iron-bound wood. "Fuck, Mark," she whimpered. "Yes, make me cum. I want to cum in your mouth!" Mark worked her cunt harder, sliding the fingers back and forth, pushing in deeper each time. His tongue massaged her clit relentlessly or he sucked on it. She was squirming and writhing back against him, groaning unashamedly. He was beyond caring if anyone heard them at this point. Becky was panting heavily now, her eyes glazing over as she ground her ass against Mark's face, feeling his fingers in her cunt and her ass, wiggling and pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. She would miss his cum inside her, but she would surely get it before long, Mark was developing good stamina under her guidance. She arched her back and moaned loudly as she began to cum, pleasure blossoming through her from her cunt and out to her fingers and toes. Her body shook while she climaxed, the wet, gooey ecstasy of colors in her mind letting her; Invasion. There was a smash, like wood splintering, the creak of worn metal. Her eyes snapped open in confusion, the unreal delight of her orgasm draining away as men in masks and dark clothes surged into the room, at least five of them and more shadows in the hallway. Most were holding knives or small clubs, but she saw the one in front carrying a heavy flintlock pistol. Even in the darkness of the room, lit only by candles around the wall, she could see the wicked scar on his cheek. "Arrêtez! Reste tranquille et je ne te tuerai pas!" he rasped, pointing his pistol at her while his comrades moved into the room and began searching for something. "Qui es-tu?" Becky demanded, getting angry not only about the intruders, but the fact that her orgasm was slipping away. She could feel Mark still kneeling behind her, looking on in shock at what was happening. "Tais-toi, salope!" the man barked, moving toward her and drawing a wicked knife from his belt, his men now ransacking the room. He placed the point of the knife at her throat and Mark felt a cold fear run up his spine. "Do not speak to me in that tone if you' He never finished the sentence as Becky grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife and twisted, hard. The man with the scar yelped as he lost his grip on the knife and the blonde woman leapt out of the tub, her knee smashing into his face. He staggered backward and then went flying as her foot slammed into his ribcage. He crashed through a table and this got the attention of the thugs he'd brought with him. They all looked in shock at the naked blonde tigress for a moment and then surged in on her, knives and cudgels ready. "A little help here, hero!" Becky shrilled as she scampered away from the incoming bandits. "This isn't sex, don't make me do all the work!" "Hey now!" Mark protested, half-rising out of the relative protection of the tub because of her taunt. "It's not like you do all' "Goddammit, Mark!" Becky shouted as she ducked the swing of a club and punched her attacker in the balls. "You'd better hope they kill us, because if I survive, I'm going to crack open your skull and suck your brain out with a straw! Help me!" Mark came to his senses and vaulted over the side of the tub, trying not to think about the fact that he was buck naked and rushing toward his teacher and her assailants. He crashed into the smallest man, bearing him to the ground and winding him. Not sure what else to do, he began punching the bandit, knocking his cloth mask askew so he could not see. The man struggled wildly to get out from underneath his naked foe. "Huh!" Mark choked out as another thug grabbed him by the throat from behind and started pulling him off the man he was on top of. He could feel his tongue beginning to bulge out of his mouth and was thinking he must look incredibly foolish, like Jabba the Hutt when Princess Leia strangled him with the chain. He couldn't die like that. He couldn't. With a limp dick and a swollen tongue? In front of Becky? He'd taken some karate, although he was no expert. His skin was still wet and he went limp, using sudden deadweight to break his attacker's hold on his throat, although he hissed in pain when he felt the man's ragged nails crease through his skin as he lost his grip. With a thud! Mark hit the floor and did the only thing he could think of doing; he grappled onto the man and took him down in a rough tumble. He desperately rolled until he was on top and rammed his knee into the man's stomach. He heard the man wheeze but then sparks exploded behind his eyes as something cracked across the back of his head. He didn't fall over but scrambled away in a panic, wishing he could see in the darkness or that the room would stop spinning. Becky landed in a heap on top of him, knocking him back to the floor. She was still naked and incredibly angry from the sounds of her. "That's it, buster!" she roared as she surged back to her feet and charged her attacker. Mark dazedly looked over and watched as his teacher sprinted across the room, her foe giving chase. She leapt in the air and to the wall, her foot making contact. Before anyone was ready, she sprang backward, smashing her foot across the man's jaw in a roundhouse kick that they must have heard on the edge of town. The man went down like a sack of flour. "Alright, who's next?" she shouted, standing in the middle of the room, naked and scratched up. She grabbed a pewter jug and slammed it backward into the head of a man coming up behind her. He went down. "I didn't know you did parkour!" Mark called out as he tackled another thug from behind, taking him to the floor. "I do a lot of things to take out my sexual frustrations!" she snapped back, picking up a bench and throwing it at two assailants to keep them off-balance. "Parkour, jiu-jutsu, archery, Krav-Maga. I was kind of hoping that fucking would allow me to vent a little steam!" "I can see why!" Mark said as he smashed the man's face into the floor repeatedly. Even in his weirdest dreams, he'd never imagined fighting French bandits while buck naked. He wondered if the Temporal Enforcement Agency would be up his ass about this incident. "Oh, shut up!" she shrilled, kicking a man between the legs from behind and then suplexing him after he doubled over in pain. The floor splintered with the impact, but Becky rolled to her feet and grabbed his cudgel. "You still owe me an orgasm, mister!" "Okay, okay!" Mark said hastily. A sallow man confronted him, wearing an eye-mask, who brandished a knobbed club. The bandit grinned at him, clearly intent on bashing his head in. Thinking quickly, Mark stood and looked somber, clasping his fist in his hand and bowing, like they did in his mom's tai chi class. The bandit looked confused for a moment before Mark bowed again and then made a motion urging the bandit to do the same. Still not sure what was happening but wanting to get on with things, the bandit bowed at the waist clumsily. Mark broke a chair over his head before grabbing the cudgel and rushing to Becky's side. "So very nice of you to join me," Becky panted as they faced off against the three remaining intruders, who were trying to surround them. Mark and Becky backed up toward the outer wall, the window behind them. The men closed in. There was a groan and a clatter as the man with the scar on his cheek slowly got to his feet from the pile of broken furniture he'd been laying in and approached them, his henchmen parting to make way for him. "Pour votre arrogance, je vous verrai mort." he growled, pointing his pistol at Mark. Trapped, Mark squeezed his eyes shut; click! Mark blinked and opened his eyes. The scar-faced man was scowling at his pistol, which was letting off a small tuft of smoke but had failed to go off. Was the powder wet? With a roar of fury, Becky was on him. "Get the other three!" she yelled as she rearranged his face. "I've got this one!" Too bewildered to be afraid and exhilarated to be alive, Mark charged the remaining three thugs, who were all backing away in confusion. None of this had gone according to plan, the majority of their fellow bandits were strewn around the room, beaten unconscious by a naked man and a crazy blonde hellion with big tits and a shaved cunt. "C'est des conneries!" she raged as she beat the man around the room, showing no mercy. "I came to the Sun King's France to drink wine, have a good time and get laid! And you fuckers just had to try and rob me, didn't you? All sorts of peasants to pick on, but no! You thought you'd get lucky with two strangers! Well va te faire enculer, pal!" Mark lost track of the whirlwind of violence his teacher had become while he ducked the swipe of a knife and then kicked the leg out from under a thug, dislocating his knee and dropping him. He whirled around and got lucky with the cudgel, cracking it across the jaw of another man, who spun like a top and fell to the ground. He was beginning to notice that he was taller than just about all these men, often by a significant margin. Some were barely taller than Becky. Had nutrition really been that bad in this era? The last one got desperate and lunged at him, but Mark twisted and used his foe's momentum to send him sailing past and smashing into the window. The unconscious man slumped halfway through the shutter and the sounds of commotion in the street below reached him. He shouldn't have been surprised that they were causing a stir. He looked around the room to see if any other foes were standing, but saw only sprawled bodies everywhere, some stirring slightly. The only other sound was that of a face being punched. He looked over to see Becky squatting on the scarred man's chest, grappling into his collar and socking him repeatedly in the mouth while swearing in French. "Nique ta mere!" thump! "Oh, you really pissed me off!" she growled as she huiled the man up by the shirt and dragged him stumbling over to the tub, where she pushed his head under the water. He thrashed about in a panic before she let him back up, gasping for air. "You like that?" she shouted, thumping his head off the side of the tub several times for emphasis. "Ya' think it's funny to barge into a girl's room when she's about to get her rocks off? Is that it?" She shoved his head back underwater again, waiting until he was thrashing around in terror again before pulling him back out and dragging him over to the bed. She threw him against it so that he was kneeling, supported by the straw-stuffed mattress as he swooned. "Hold him down, Mark;” she growled. Unsure of what to do aside from comply, Mark got on the bed and pinned the man's arms against the mattress, putting all his weight on them to keep him in place. He watched in growing confusion as Becky knelt behind the man and yanked his breeches down, exposing his pock-marked behind. She found his flintlock pistol and glared at it for a moment before fiddling with the mechanism, cocking it. The man's eye flared wide and he howled in pain and horror as she pushed the barrel inside his ass. "Alright, buttercup," she said with a sweetness that oozed cruelty. "You're going to explain who told you to come and rob us. And if you don't, I pull the trigger and put your brains on the ceiling." Mark warily shuffled aside on the bed, away from the top of the man's skull. "Do you understand me?" Becky asked quietly, giving the pistol a jiggle. "Probably not," Mark said, trying to sound conciliatory. "You're speaking English again." Becky realized he was right and swore under her breath. Rather than say it all again in French, she decided to just get to the point. She pressed the pistol in an inch further, ignoring the resistance she encountered. "Dites-mois qui vous a envoye," she growled. "Tell me or I blow an asshole in the top of your head." "Henri!" the scar-faced man gasped and whimpered. "He told us you would be here and you have much money!" "Oh, did he now?" Becky growled, forgetting to speak French as she glared at the bandit. "I am going to eat that man's children;” She roughly grabbed the man and spun him around to face her, without removing the pistol muzzle from his ass. His face was pale with fright and artfully rearranged by her fist. He was still leaning back against the bed, not daring to move, breathing heavily. "Maintenant," Becky began, still glowering at him. "You're going to tell me where to' She paused as she looked down at the man's crotch and saw that he was sporting a throbbing erection. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she shouted angrily, yanking the pistol out of his ass and then slamming the grip across his head with a loud crack! The bandit's eyes rolled into his head and he slumped to the ground, very unconscious. "Huh," Mark said as he glanced down at the prone villain. "I guess guys really can get erections from that sort of thing. I thought it was bullshit." "It ought to be, under these circumstances," Becky groused, folding her arms and looking pissed off. "You don't spring wood when a girl's got a gun shoved up your ass, especially after you try to rob her! I don't feel the least bit bad about not giving him a reach-around. Fucker;” "Would you really have pulled the trigger and blown his brains out?" he asked somewhat nervously. "Oh, of course, not," she snorted, giving him a wry look. "I'm not a monster." "You sure fight like one." Mark said, using his hand to indicate the carnage around the room. Bad guys were strewn everywhere, and he was pretty sure he couldn't claim most of them. "Well, they had it coming," she sniffed. "They interrupted my orgasm. It's just rude." She then turned and looked at him, her expression much softer. "Thank you, Mark, for all your help. You saved me, I couldn't have done it on my own." "Yeah, well, you wouldn't have been in danger if I hadn't brought you here in that damn time machine." Mark said, a feeling of guilt washing over him. She knelt next to him on the bed and hugged him close, their bodies pressing together. She smiled at him and kissed his nose. "Don't be sad," she cooed. "I haven't had this much adventure in ages." Mark smirked. "If you've got romps in your past that compare to this, I wanna hear about them." "Oh, you'll need to do a lot more fucking to coax those out of me, young man," she whispered, reaching down between them to take gentle hold of his cock and begin stroking. "But maybe I won't make it too difficult for; Mark, it's very rude to stare off into space while a girl is trying to seduce you. Mark?" "I'm not staring off into space, Becks." Mark said, staring past her shoulder. "Oh, really?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking annoyed, still kneeling in front of him. "Then what is so fascinating that even my tits can't distract you?" He indicated a direction behind her with a nod. "Voyeurs." Becky turned her head slowly and looked across the room at the door. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed several dark shapes in the hallway, gazing into the room in astonishment. With a sigh, she got off the bed, grabbed a candle that hadn't been destroyed and walked over to the door, clearly beyond caring that she was still naked. She could see men and women now, backing up uncertainly at her approach. She also spied one particular silhouette, large and with a big beard, lurking near the back and trying to not be seen. "Oh no you don't, pal," she called out, snapping her fingers and then pointing at the man before making a beckoning motion. "Get your sorry ass over here;” Henri, the peasant girls, and hospitality. Mark sighed in pleasure and took another drink from the jug of wine he was holding, trying to not spill any. He pulled his lips away and looked down his body. He was sitting in a large, plush bed, blissfully naked. Between his legs, a local girl with dark brown hair girl was bobbing her mouth up and down on his cock ardently, clearly interested in pleasing him. "This one's the innkeeper's daughter?" he mused, enjoying her mouth. She paused sucking on him for a moment to look up and smile eagerly before returning to her task. "She loves cock for sure." "She's one of his daughters," Becky agreed, propped up beside him, equally naked and holding the head of a girl who was lying between her legs, her face buried in the blonde's cunt, which she was licking hungrily. "This is the other one." "You frightened him so badly that he's letting us fuck his daughters?" Mark laughed. "He's given us his personal quarters, given us all the food and drink we want and we can fuck his daughters?" "What can I say, I'm persuasive." Becky grunted, shivering and grinding herself into the face of the daughter. "He'll let us stay for the week, he doesn't want word getting around that a noble had a fiasco in his inn. He'd probably give us his wife, too, if I demanded it. We're too close to Paris and word would get around and wreck his business." "If trashing that room and leaving bandits everywhere doesn't, nothing would." Mark breathed, holding the girl by the hair. "Seriously, it looks like Metallica stayed in that room now. What'll we do about that Henri asshole?" "I'll think of it later, I'm a little busy." Becky hissed, squirming and knotting her fingers in the peasant girl's hair. "Uh, it's been so long, since a girl ate me." "You had a sexy phase? I didn't know you liked girls." Mark said, smirking at her. "Back in high school, maybe," Becky admitted. "Haven't been with one since then." "But I do have a question," he said, focusing past the daughter's wicked mouth. "In all the hassle and afterward, I never asked the innkeeper how old his daughters were." "So?" Becky gasped, eyes squeezed shut and bucking her hips. "Well, what if they're not eighteen? You said yourself that we have to hold ourselves to the standards of the time we come from, right?" "You're thinking of that now?" she groaned through clenched teeth. "I; fuck; Mark, it's 1640 right now. That means these girls can't be any less than three hundred and ninety-two in our time. Good enough?" "Good enough!" he laughed. Rationalization seemed to be a handy skill when you were time travelling. He looked over and saw Becky pull the girl away from her crotch and rustle over to him. He stayed still while she straddled his lap, facing down his body. With one hand, she took hold of his cock and held it steady while she positioned herself above it. The two sisters, every bit as naked as them, nestled on the bed below his legs, pressing against one another's sides. They grinned at one another and kissed, their tongues tangling as they waited for Becky to continue. With a sigh, his teacher lowered herself onto his cock, the mushroom head splitting her wet lips before sliding inside her. She sunk down with a groan until he was in to the hilt. She then slowly laid herself back against him, allowing Mark fondle her tits while she squirmed and writhed on him. The sisters moved in and began licking at his cock or kissing her cunt lips and clit while the two guests fucked. "Oh, Heaven;” Becky purred as she caressed his cheek, turning her head to kiss him, their tongues slithering around while she undulated slowly on his lap. "This is what time travel's all about;” Mark held her with one hand, fondling her tits and pinching her nipples while his other hand found the wine jug and poised it just over her torso. She hummed in pleasure as he trickled the dark red liquid over her fair skin, letting it cascade down her exquisite form. One of the sisters noticed and knelt up, beginning to lick it off Becky's tits and stomach while the other noisily slurped it from the Mark's cock and Becky's cunt. "God, forget the Sun King's France, we belong in Caligula's Rome," Becky moaned, shivering in delight at how decadent they were being. "We'll need to; hmm; we'll need to find time to attend an orgy, Mark; how's your Latin?" "Not as good as yours, I imagine," he replied, his tongue still swirling around with hers while they fucked. "But I'd be happy to learn it if we can attend a real orgy." He put the jug of wine aside and used both hands to molest her again, squeezing her tits and gripping her skin. Becky writhed and him, pressing down with her hips, shuddering as the two sisters licked her and nipped at her skin. She begged the universe n

Andy Beshear, Governor of the US state of Kentucky, said he expected the death toll from a plane crash at Muhammad Ali International Airport to rise. Plus, Becks is knighted and the Ashes squad is unveiled.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Männerabend Special – Hamburg Beer Week 2025! Dennis, Reinhold und viele weitere Gäste sind gemeinsam auf den beiden Hamburg Beer Week Cruises dabei. Cruises? Ja! Denn erstmalig gab es in diesem Jahr zusätzlich zur klassischen „Brewmaster-Cruise“ zur Eröffnung noch eine 2. Schiffsausfahrt die in diesem Jahr unter dem Motto „Tschechien“ stand. Wir trinken uns durch sämtliche […]

Where has John been? Why is he decorating the Commons? Oh, don't tell me... yep it's Halloween, and Trish gets an education on the traditions around the void.Today's stories are The Party by George Plank and Pail by Alex VitaleContent Warnings for Today's Episode:Police ViolenceDescription of a corpseSerial KillersSlasher HorrorMystical Horror Violence against childrenSpecial thanks to Rebecca "Becks" Tewksberry for playing "Trish"Contact Us!: ⁠Linktr.ee/UncommonCommons

Now I know what it feels like to be pod!   They're alive...they're alive, and they're back to cover Mary Shelley's 1818 (1816? 1831?) novel: Frankenstein! In this episode, the Becks cover 200 years of history and adaptations, focusing on 1931's Frankenstein, 1935's Bride of Frankenstein, and 1994's Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Enjoy!   ko-fi.com/soonmajorpod   linktr.ee/soonmajorpod

It's our annual check-in with Becks Quirk, while Kris is recovering from Women's Week in P-town! Becks and Tara talk about what's changed in the last year, where they're at, what keeps them motivated, as well as Becks's reflections after Banned Books Week. Official Recommendations From Becks: Every Step She Takes by Alison Cochrun In keeping with the annual nature of her visits, Becks's official recommendation this week is another Alison Cochrun audiobook, Every Step She Takes. A bout of turbulence provokes Sadie into coming out and sharing her deepest secrets with her seat companion, Mal, only to learn they're both joining the same tour of Camino de Santiago in Portugal. Becks is a sucker for physical journeys that exhaust the body and mind, leading to revelations and change. From Tara: Ladies in Hating by Alexandra Vasti Tara's official recommendation this week is Ladies in Hating by Alexandra Vasti. Lady Georgiana Cleeve is the author of many popular novels, which helps her support herself and her mother. When Lady Darling's books are equally popular and have details that are eerily similar to Georgiana's own books, Georgiana knows she has to unmask Lady Darling. She's in for the shock of her life when Lady Darling ends up being none other than Georgiana's teenage crush. Tara loved the emotional journeys in this one and how it plays with conventions from gothic novels. Works/People Discussed Banned Books Week Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel (recommended in QR 064) Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobabe (recommended in QR 057) Flamer by Mike Curato They Came from Below by L Dreamer After All: A Sapphic Romance (Latitude & Longing Book 3) by Bryce Oakley Olive Oil and White Bread by Georgia Beers The Shape of You by Georgia Beers RuPaul's Drag Race UK (BBC Three, BBC One) Hades 2 (Supergiant Games) Iceberg by Gun Brooke Course of Action by Gun Brooke Hope in the Dark by Rebecca Solnit Meditations in an Emergency - Essays by Rebecca Solnit The Fortune Hunter's Guide to Love by Emma-Claire Sunday Heather Rose Jones Support & follow the show Buy us a Ko-fi Facebook Instagram Threads Bluesky TikTok YouTube Get all our links on Linktr.ee

Männerabend #283 – Brauerei Gasthof Zwanzger! Dennis, Reinhold und Markus II („Gröner Bagalut“) begrüßen heute einen der kreativsten Brauer Deutschlands: Christian Zwanzger vom Brauerei Gasthof Zwanzger! Gemeinsam mit den „Grünen Banditen“ hat Christian im letzten Jahr das „BroTiger Bagalut“ West Coast IPA eingebraut und heute probieren wir uns durch einige Kreationen seines aktuellen Bier Line Ups. […]

She was a popstar. He played football. The most famous couple on earth got married, had babies, weathered a couple (many) storms, and emerged after 26 years stronger than ever. So what is there to learn about love from Posh and Becks? Well, according to Damaris Treasure and I...we can learn a whole lot. Love you, more than a friend x LINKS: Subscribe to Damaris' substack ⁠⁠⁠'Trying Things'⁠⁠ Follow Ash on ⁠⁠⁠tikok⁠⁠⁠ and ⁠⁠⁠instagram⁠⁠⁠ Follow the podcast on ⁠⁠⁠instagram⁠⁠⁠ Order Ash's debut novel ⁠⁠⁠Love on the Air Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Got a shobby? You know — a short-term hobby for even shorter attention spans that fills the void between doomscrolls. Claire Murphy's hitting the high notes at Pub Choir, Holly’s deep in her Duolingo era, and Em V’s gone old school with a shobby that's like her full-time job now.We’re also diving headfirst into Other People’s Marriages. After the Victoria Beckham doco dropped, an internet debate exploded about whether David even likes Victoria — so naturally, we’ve got thoughts. Expect a little parasocial self-reflection along the way.And, one host + one pet = one unexpected argument.Plus, in reccos: a podcast to binge, something lovely for your face, and a Substack that Em swears will cheer Murphy up. Support independent women's media Recommendations Em recommends an open letter to my dog who, if i'm being completely honest, lowkey kinda sucks a Substack by Father_Karine. Claire recommends this week's episode of True Crime Conversations on The Real Story Of Ed Gein: The Original Psycho and next week's episode all about Kathleen Folbigg. Holly recommends the L'Oreal Paris True Match Radiant Serum Concealer and The Jennifer Anniston episode of Armchair Expert. Plus, check out Clare Connelly's masterclass in romance writing here. What To Listen To Next: Listen to our latest episode: The Precise Etiquette Of A 'Grudget' Listen: Kim K's Bush & An Office Politics Dilemma Listen: A 'Furious' King & The Rise Of The Barbie Waist Listen: The Friends Vs Family Trap & We're All Rapunzel Now Listen: What Did You Do Yesterday? Listen: "A Comedian Hurt My Feelings" Listen: Every Thought We Had About The Victoria Beckham Documentary Listen: The Victoria Beckham Documentary Is Hard To Watch Listen: The New High Status Boyfriend Connect your subscription to Apple Podcasts Discover more Mamamia Podcasts here including the very latest episode of Parenting Out Loud, the parenting podcast for people who don't listen to... parenting podcasts. Watch Mamamia Out Loud: Mamamia Out Loud on YouTube What to read: HOLLY WAINWRIGHT: ‘I desperately needed to find some calm… So I read one very particular book and I got a hobby.’ 'Millennial hobby energy' is the reason we'll never be happy. Victoria Beckham’s new Netflix documentary is here and it contains one jaw dropping moment. 'Oh Victoria, your husband is not on your team.' Victoria Beckham and Nicole Kidman have two of Hollywood's strongest marriages. They just traded their secrets.

We'll pod your cast apart!   Spooky month continues as The Becks tackle one of the hornier scary movies based on a book: Clive Barker's Hellraiser, based on his own novella The Hellbound Heart. In this episode, they discuss what kind of artist is Barker, the legacy of Pinhead, and what scenes were too sexy for the R rated cut.   Also, this was recorded during the final inning of the Phillies' postseason run, so if you want to hear Billy's live reaction to that disaster, that's here too. Enjoy!   ko-fi.com/soonmajorpod   linktr.ee/soonmajorpod   Next Episode Homework: Frankenstein (1931), Bride of Frankenstein (1935), Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1994)  

Join us on todays episode as we discuss Becks career and how it has led her to what she does today with her dissection work. Over the course of these podcasts Becks shares how her riding difficult horses started out as behavioural training as it does for most of us. Within time Becks curiousity about the underlying pathology grew and she started to apply her knowledge as a taxidermist to the dissection of euthanised horses. Marrying the discoveries Becks found in the horses bodies to their stories Becks now advocates for how we can work with horses more sustainably.Check out Becks work over on her facebook page: ⁠⁠Becks Nairn (classical dressage NZ)⁠⁠Her patreon: ⁠⁠https://www.patreon.com/Becks_nairn⁠⁠And her website: ⁠⁠https://www.becksnairn.com/⁠⁠

Männerabend Special – Bayern-Tour (inkl. Drinktec & Nacht der Sieger)! Dennis und Reinhold sind (mit wechselnder Begleitung) wieder unterwegs – diesmal auf großer Bayern-Tour! Wie immer haben sie für euch Stimmen, Meinungen und jede Menge Emotionen eingefangen. Los geht's bei unserem guten Freund Tobias Hess (ehemals Braumeister bei Überquell in Hamburg), den wir in der […]

WÄMMS!! Wie ein etwas zu krakeliger Komet landen eure beiden Lieblingswattwürmer auch diese Woche wieder in euren Ohrmuscheln (würg!) Und was für einen schönen inhaltlichen Geschenkekorb sie doch dabeihaben: Für die Omi ein paar Geschichten aus dem Bonner Haus der Geschichte. Der Vati kriegt Schilderungen von Schlangen, Spinnen und dem ersten Erasmus-Obdachlosen-Projekt zwischen Köln und Bonn. Für die lieben Kleinen kommt Wald Weirdo Robert Habeck vorbei und dann servieren wir der Mama zum Schluss einen Ausblick auf die WM-Quali unserer Nationalmannschaft. Oder wird es eher eine Quäli? Schauen wir mal. Bis dahin, eure Eiterbeulen aus der Gästekurve ❤️ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

#342 - Über den letzten gemeinsamen Weg.Mein Name ist Solveig & ich bin Coach für Menschen mit Hund. Diese Folge ist eine besondere – und keine einfache. Wir hatten ein schweres Wochenende hinter uns: Hardy musste in die Klinik und unser geliebter Kater Becks hat uns für immer verlassen. Sorgen, Trauer, Überforderung. Da kommt manchmal alles auf einmal. Daher möchte heute mit dir über ein Thema sprechen, das in unserer Gesellschaft oft tabuisiert wird: Den Tod. Das inkludiert auch das Sterben unserer Geliebten Vier oder wie in Becks' Fall Dreibeiner. Du erfährst,

Maya Rudolph, the mother of comedy and the only person to ever make me wet myself with laughter (so far) joins us today!  Maya's rise to the top of comedy started on ‘Saturday Night Live' with iconic sketches with the likes of Amy Poehler and Kristen Wiig before she went on to win SIX Emmys, and of course bring us so much joy in one of the greatest movies of all time, ‘Bridesmaids'.  Maya is currently taking on her first lead role, playing the billionaire Molly who tries to redeem herself with a charitable foundation in one of my favourite TV shows, Apple TV+'s ‘Loot'. It's so funny, it's pure escapism and as ‘Loot' returns for a third season on 15th October we chat about how comedy helped Maya find her people, herself and her confidence.  In this episode I also teach Maya about some key iconic moments from British pop culture involving Posh and Becks and we chat about what's in our dressing up boxes, the incredible advice she got from Bill Murray, straight men confidence and her incredible work playing Kamala Harris on ‘Saturday Night Live'. There are laughs and some special moments in this episode, as I think Maya shows a whole other side of her and if you love this chat as much as me please get in touch. You can find me @joshsmithhosts across socials. Love, Josh x P.S. I'm really excited to be working with Primark - our go to for smart shopping and off the moment trends. Primark are serving us the best new denim collection for autumn with every fit imaginable: wide leg, palazzo, barrel, bootleg, or baggy. Primark's denim has a look for literally every occasion and for everyone because like Reign, Primark wants to empower you to celebrate you and your style everyday, no matter the occasion. Head to primark.com to browse the collection, and why not try the click and collect service while you're there babes?! P.P.S If this great chat has left you wanting to improve your communication skills and boost your relationships - and build new ones-  in the process check out my self help book, ‘Great Chat: Talk to Anyone. Build New Connections. Improve Your Relationships' which is out now in paperback. Whether you are socially anxious, struggling to make connections on dates or want to learn how to have difficult conversations, this is the book for you! You can get your copy here https://geni.us/GreatChat and I really hope you love it.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

You're gonna have to pod sometime, MacReady   The Becks lead off October with an expedition to Antarctica to cover John W Campbell's 1938 novella Who Goes There, most memorably adapted into film by John Carpenter in 1982 as The Thing. In this episode, the Becks discuss the three versions of the text, the three film adaptations, their thoughts on who is and isn't a Thing, and much more. Enjoy!   ko-fi.com/soonmajorpod   linktr.ee/soonmajorpod   Next episode's homework: Hellraiser

Männerabend #282 – 10 Jahre Bierothek Nürnberg! Dennis, Reinhold und David Hertl feiern heute zusammen mit unserem „Männerabend Prakti“ Steffen das 10. Jubiläum seiner Bierothek Nürnberg. Steffen berichtet wie er eigentlich zum Bier gekommen ist, was Männerabend damit zu tun hat und wie Dennis, Reinhold und David Hertl dann mitverantwortlich für die Eröffnung der Bierothek […]

WARNING: This episode contains spoilers for Season 2 of The Marlow Murder Club. For actor Jo Martin, returning to Marlow for a second season of The Marlow Murder Club felt like returning to a new family. And for her character, dog walker turned sleuth Suzie Harris, a new family is being forged with her friends Judith and Becks. In this conversation, we talk with Jo about drawing on her real-life experiences as a mother, embracing the beauty of Marlow, and grappling with themes of parenthood, friendship, and of course, murder.

Why do we trust and spend money on celebrity-owned businesses? It's more than just fame-it's psychology, social influence, and emotional connection at work. In this episode, we break down the hidden factors that make celebrity-backed brands so appealing, from parasocial relationships to the status boost that comes with buying in.Whether it's skincare or fashion lines, we'll uncover how stars turn their influence into thriving businesses-and why so many can't resist.Connect with Becks

But they made the podcast and then they stand in the rain and listen to it   The Becks go back to the American Civil War to talk about the 2003 epis romance Cold Mountain, based on the 1997 novel by Charles Frazier. This episode covers everything, from sad life stuff to enthusiastic patriotism to speed wanking. Enjoy!   ko-fi.com/soonmajorpod   linktr.ee/soonmajorpod   Next episode homework: The Thing (1982)

Männerabend #281 – Oktoberfestbiere 2025! Dennis, Reinhold und Candy sind heute beim „HopfenDino“ in Bayern zu Gast probieren sich sich somit erstmalig „vor Ort“ durch die aktuellen 6 Oktoberfestbiere. Kein anderes Medium kann auf eine derart empirische Studie dieser traditionellen Biere zurückblicken, denn bereits seit 2013 (!) werden diese Biere Jahr für Jahr von uns […]

From rotating weekly flavors to Instagram-worthy packaging, Crumbl has tapped into powerful psychological triggers that turn casual customers into loyal fans.In this episode, we break down the branding and consumer behavior strategies behind the Crumbl phenomenon. Why do people line up for cookies every week? How does scarcity, social proof, and emotional marketing drive the hype? And what can other businesses learn from Crumbl's sweet success?If you've ever wondered why Crumbl feels irresistible, this deep dive into consumer psychology and branding has the answers.Connect with Becks

Christopher Kinsey has been named a Beck's Player with Heart due to his dedication to his school, community, and the agriculture industry. To Christopher, agriculture is family, tradition, and the values that come from working with your hands and caring for something bigger than yourself. Being involved in the agriculture industry has allowed him to find patience when waiting for a crop to grow, pride in seeing the results of that work, and gratitude for the people who make it possible. It represents hard work, responsibility, and the connection we all share with the land and the food we eat. Christopher is currently a captain on his school's football team, saying that the camaraderie between my brothers on the field is something that happens once in a lifetime. The friendships, the hardships, and everything else in between are what he loves most about being a part of a team. Christopher is also the president of his FFA chapter this year. He says he is happy to be part of the behind the scenes of these activities, which is what makes these programs special. Christopher is passionate about being there for his community when he can, as he is currently serving as a cadet fireman at his local fire department. After high school, Christopher plans to continue his education with the fire program and attend EMT school to become a full-time fireman/paramedic.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Buying Starbucks every day isn't just about caffeine-it's about psychology, branding, and behavior. In this episode, we dive into why Starbucks has become more than a coffee shop and how it turned into a daily ritual for millions. From the power of habit loops to the emotional pull of branding, we'll uncover the business strategies that make your coffee run feel irresistible.If you've ever wondered why your morning latte feels like a non-negotiable start to the day, this breakdown of the Starbucks effect is for you.Connect with Becks

If we die, it will be for podcast, not gold!   The Becks dig up another epic poem to talk about. This time it's Beowulf, adapted to film in 2007 by Robert Zemeckis. In this episode, Billy talks about being cringe in public, Codie laments not being able to take two English classes, and the Becks' upstairs neighbor won't stop making noise. Enjoy!   ko-fi.com/soonmajorpod   linktr.ee/soonmajorpod

This week, Scott welcomes back Kyle Mooney and Beck Bennett. The three discuss Kyle's album “The Real Me”, Beck's appearance in “Superman”, and their new podcast, “What's Our Podcast?”. Then, entrepreneurs Austin and Tony return to discuss the rebuilding of their brand. Finally, Brian and Brundan Buggle stop by to chat about the New York City tourism industry. You can check out Kyle and Becks new podcast, "What's Our Podcast" here: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/whats-our-podcast-with-beck-bennett-and-kyle-mooney/id1834487732 Don't forget to check out the Comedy Bang! Bang! Action Figures at shop.figurecollections.com and go to actionfigureseller.com for international purchases. If you want more great episodes of Comedy Bang! Bang! become a subscriber at comedybangbangworld.com. We have all of the past episodes from the archives, every live show, ad-free new episodes, and original shows like CBB Presents and Scott Hasn't Seen. Find more great Comedy Bang! Bang! merch at https://www.podswag.com/collections/comedy-bang-bang Get access to all the podcasts you love, music channels and radio shows with the SiriusXM App! Get 3 months free using this show link: https://siriusxm.com/cbb

We sit down with CCU head football coach Tim Beck!

This one's for the content creator who's questioning if it's worth it.In this quick sip of encouragement on The Brew with Becks, I'm reminding you that putting yourself out there takes realcourage. It's vulnerable. It's exhausting. But it also makes impact.If you needed a sign to keep going — this is it.You're doing better than you think. ☕

Now...off with your pod   The Becks continue exploring chivalrous romance with their exploration of the anonymously-written peom Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and its 2021 film adaptation The Green Knight. How many books did Codie borrow from the library for this one? How early in life did Billy learn of Sir Gawain? Do the Becks manage to keep this one on the rails for once? Listen in to find out!   linktr.ee/soonmajorpod   ko-fi.com/soonmajorpod   Next week's homework: Beowulf (2007)

In this 5-minute microepisode of The Brew with Becks, I'm walking you through a simple, clarity-boosting activity to help you define your top 3 content pillars.Whether you're starting fresh or pivoting your brand, this is your moment to get focused — because when you know your pillars, you never run out of aligned content ideas.Grab a pen and paper (or your Notes app). Let's brew on it. ☕️

This week Kail and Becky talk about Salem getaway, newborn updates with Becks, a shocking hernia misdiagnosis, bike-riding mishaps, fertility journeys, and navigating grief over past relationships. Expect unfiltered laughs, heartfelt moments, and a dash of chaos.To submit a Is It Karma Or Is It Chaos story email us at info@karmachaospodcast.comFor full videos head to patreon.com/kaillowry Follow Becky at Hayter25 and subscribe to For The HaytersThank you for supporting the show by checking out our sponsors! OPositiv: take proactive care of your vaginal health head to opositiv.com/karmaQuince: Go to quince.com/karma for free shipping on your orderand 365-day returns. ASPCA: To explore coverage, visit ASPCApetinsurance.com/KARMA.Hiya: For 50% off their best selling children's vitamins head to hiyahealth.com/KARMA.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

In this quick micro episode of The Brew with Becks, I'm sharing the 3 non-negotiables I always pencil into my calendar — no matter how packed my week gets. From wellness walks and branding blocks to beach days or Disney resets, these calendar appointments help me stay creative, consistent, and connected.Whether you're a content creator, entrepreneur, or just craving a bit more balance — this one's your reminder to make space for what matters.☕ Let's sip on it.

Send us a textJosh and Becks are running solo this week and each bring three topics to discussBe sure to come and chat with us here:Website: www.icbympodcast.comFacebook: @icbympodcastTwitter: @icbympodcastInstagram: @icbympodcastDiscord: https://discord.gg/7Vu7WCn58J

In this episode of "Building Texas Business," I sit down with Molly Voorhees, the president of Beck's Prime, Winfield's Chocolate Bar, and Agnes Cafe. Molly shares her journey from Silicon Valley back to her roots in Houston's culinary scene. She talks about how her passion for food and community has shaped her approach to running family-run businesses and the importance of customer service. We explore the challenges of maintaining a successful family business, emphasizing the importance of respecting individual expertise and fostering a collaborative environment. Molly discusses how she integrates technology into operations, which can be challenging for mid-sized companies. Her experiences provide insight into the practical hurdles of implementing new systems while maintaining efficiency. Molly also reflects on the entrepreneurial spirit in Texas, particularly in Houston, where local businesses benefit from a supportive community. She shares how this environment has been beneficial, despite the uncertainties and challenges in the business world. Her approach to leadership involves patience and listening to her team, allowing them to voice their opinions and ideas. The conversation also touches on the importance of authenticity and resilience in business. Molly shares how facing challenges early on, like financial struggles and an empty restaurant, taught her valuable lessons. She emphasizes the importance of mental health awareness in corporate culture and maintaining open dialogue about success and failure. As Molly looks forward to upcoming projects, she invites listeners to experience the culinary adventures that celebrate innovation and community. SHOW HIGHLIGHTS   Molly shares her journey from Silicon Valley back to Houston, taking on leadership roles in Beck's Prime, Winfield's Chocolate Bar, and Agnes Cafe, emphasizing her passion for food and community. The episode explores her innovative approach to maintaining high standards in Beck's Prime while expanding into the chocolate business, highlighting the importance of customer service and community connection. Listeners gain insights into managing a family-run business, where respecting individual expertise and fostering collaboration are essential for effective decision-making and business success. We discuss the integration of technology in operations, acknowledging the challenges faced by mid-sized companies and the potential for improved efficiency through technological advancements. The supportive entrepreneurial spirit in Houston is highlighted, showcasing how local businesses benefit from a community eager to see them succeed, even amidst ongoing challenges and uncertainties. Her reflections on entrepreneurship emphasize authenticity, resilience, and mental health awareness in corporate culture, encouraging open dialogue about success and failure. Excitement for upcoming projects is shared, inviting listeners to join in a culinary adventure that celebrates innovation and community in Houston's vibrant food scene. LINKSShow Notes Previous Episodes About BoyarMiller About Beck's Prime GUESTS Molly VoorheesAbout Molly TRANSCRIPT (AI transcript provided as supporting material and may contain errors) Chris: In this episode you will meet Molly Voorhees, president of Beck's Prime, winfield's Chocolate Bar and Agnes Cafe. Molly shares her passion for bringing people together over quality food and service and how, in difficult times, she looks for the next right thing to do to keep the company moving forward. Molly, I want to thank you for coming on Building Texas Business. Thanks for coming in today. Molly: Thank you for having me Excited to be here. Chris: So we have a lot to talk about with you because you cover a lot of areas. So let's start Just tell everyone kind of what it is you do, the companies that you're involved in and what they're known for. Molly: So we started Beck's Prime back in 1985. I was just 10 years old so I did not start it, but my dad, a lawyer, winn Campbell, and an operating partner, a guy named Mike Knapp, started it together. And really my dad, winn, loves food and grew up in the burger business in Dallas. Chris: Ok, what was the burger place in Dallas? Molly: It was golf. Chris: I've had lots of golf, yeah, so he was 14. Molly: He tells some fantastic stories about, you know, his first day on the job, cutting onions and being a human trash compactor and sort of all the love, and ended up getting a law degree. But always loved the food industry, always wanted to be in it and came up with the concept of Vex Prime in 1985. I convinced a lot of people to gamble with him and invest and that was the very first Vex Prime on Kirby. Chris: OK. Molly: I was 10, just kid watching, watching it all happen, while I, you know, played sports and did all the things you do and went to college, ended up in um tech out in silicon valley for a long time during the the boom and bust period okay and which was fun went to business school and then wanted to to come back and be in the restaurant industry and grow it. Food is fun. It's very personal. I had sold being in tech. You're not selling something that brings necessarily as much moment-to-moment joy as feeding people Okay, necessarily as much moment to moment joy as feeding people. And I really felt like with Beck's Prime we had something great and then it was time to grow it and so I've moved back here in 2006, back to Houston, and we started growing and building more Beck's Prime and then we took over the management five years ago, chocolate bar and rebranded that Winfield's chocolate bar and built a factory and new stores and now we're selling wholesale and corporate gifting. And then we have a little side concept that I did with a friend called Agnes. Chris: Okay. Molly: Agnes Cafe and Provisions. Chris: Oh, we're off the internet, right. And that was my crazy covid baby I was. Molly: I thought everyone wanted to get back to work and we needed to create jobs and he's desperate for community and the restaurant industry to come back. And there was a restaurant that had closed there and decided to open up a neighborhood cafe with a friend who was crazy enough to say yes when I brought her the idea and we opened Agnes four years ago in June and it is a local neighborhood favorite. Chris: That's great. That's great. So original inspiration, I guess obviously is your dad, and being exposed to the business Great. So original inspiration I guess obviously is your dad and being exposed to the business. What was it that got you to kind of branch into chocolate, because that's much different than kind of a full service meal concept. Well, in theory it was going to be easier. Molly: Famous last words. Famous last words. You know, I love how food brings people together and what we do at Beck's Prime is really hard, which is, you know, you walk up to the window or you drive through our drive-thru and I mean we are cut, grinding and patting all the burgers every day. Nothing's frozen. I mean we're cutting those French fries it is busy back there and we're going to get you a made from scratch meal in eight to ten minutes. And that's hard. So I thought, okay, let's be in the food business, but let's scoop ice cream and cut cakes and sell chocolate. Um, well, when we took the business, they weren't doing the highest quality version of that. So I was like, okay, well, I'm going to apply the Beck's Prime model to it and I'm going to make it all really high quality and we're going to make all of our own cakes and ice cream. And so now I've made it as hard or harder than go back to your roots. I mean, nothing is easy. Chris: Right Molly: But yeah, I think they're similar in the sense of how you manage a restaurant, all of the different services, and how you buy food and how you work on cleanliness and operations. So there's a lot of similarities. Chris: And, I would think, critically important to people you hire to be customer-facing. Right, to make that experience, the food's got to be great, but if the people aren't great as well, right, you have to get both right. Molly: Yeah, and there's actually some evidence that the people matter more than the food. So you'll be surprised the number of text messages I get and there's some science behind this too, not just anecdotal. But oh my gosh, that guy over at Memorial Park. Or the cute drive-thru cashier over there at Kirby who always gets my sandwich right and says, hello, I love her so much, she loves my dog. There's nothing about what they ate or if they enjoyed their meal or it tasted good. It's the people. So you know, I think that part we've done well, which is why we're still in business. Chris: So let's kind of go down that route a little bit. What is it that you have done? I guess it that you have done, I guess first at Beck's and now at Winfield chocolate to focus on getting the hiring right, the processes you put in place, what did mistakes you made that you learned from, kind of. To me that is the key to the kingdom and I think our listeners could learn a lot from what you've done to put such a good system in place to get the right people. Molly: So it's interesting. I think the basics matter right how we treat people every day. I think we've always done that really well inside of our team how we hire. So when we hire managers, we will never hire a general manager for a store. We will only hire an assistant manager and then they can move up to a general manager. But when we hire, we actually take a team member through a number of different steps. You know. Obviously they interview with our management team, they interview with other managers, they interview with the other managers, then they'll do a shadows shift where they'll come and work a shift with the team. So we're really trying to make sure we get people who see themselves working in our environment. Chris:Right. Molly: Right. If you don't, if you want to be a white tablecloth restaurant manager or employee, we're not the right place. So sometimes people will come and they'll spend a shadow shift with us and they don't want to be in the environment. And then we'll also ask them. We'll give them dinner passes and we'll say bring a loved one to lunch or dinner with you here. And we'll say bring a loved one to lunch or dinner with you here. And that test is does somebody who's close to you see you working here? Chris: Oh yeah. Molly: You know, and so we try to help employees find a couple touch points so that they know whether or not, culturally, we're a good fit for them. But from my perspective it's really interesting. I think we have incredibly loyal long-term team members who've been with us forever. If you ever go in one of our stores, you'll see these posters that celebrate, you know, 5, 10, 15, 20, 40 years of with us. People are like, oh my gosh, those people have been with you for so long and I'm like, well, those are just the people on the poster that year. Right, and really I think it comes down to basic manners, boundaries, respect, helping each other. But just treating people as you would want to be treated goes a really long way. Chris: Yeah, like I said, that's the basics right, and to have that longevity in your industry is remarkable. Molly: Transparency, kind but also clear. Hey, this is how this needs to happen, Not having policies. We're not a big policy company. Chris: I love that because. I feel, the same way. I think. As soon as you create a policy, then all you're dealing with is all the reasons there should be an exception to the policy. Exactly so just treat people humanly, and humanely and reasonably. Molly: Yeah, and if we need to figure it out we will. But you know, if we had a policy that you know you can't take care of a customer if it's going to cost us more than $15. Let's say we had some limit, or something. And that would just be such a buffer. And it turns out the manager who's trying to take care of the customers all of a sudden handcuffed Right Right, and they just want the ability to do the right thing. Chris: Right. Molly: They're in the service business. People don't go into the service business unless you enjoy serving people. Chris: Well, and if you know, I think if you're watching your business, if someone's abusing a system, you'll see it and that's not a policy issue or lack of policy issue, that's a character issue, right, that surfaces, that you maybe didn't catch in the hiring process. I also like what you said because I think I'm hearing more of this in the corporate world the experimental part of the interview process where you you put someone in a skills assessment situation. So you said the shadow session or whatever. I know we're trying to do that and assessing skill. You know it's one thing to ask questions and be you know in a conversation, but people's skill sets matter in these jobs, right, that's how they're going to sink or swim. So I think that you've incorporated that is something that I see more and more people trying to do. Yeah, and I love to bring the loved one in. Molly: We try to do the same as well. Chris: It's like do something social with your spouse or significant other, because you're going to be away from them with us a lot. Molly: you're going to be away from them with us a lot they're going to spend more time with us than they are, you know, with you so? Do you see them and you know? Chris: okay with us, yeah do you like? Molly: do you like us? Yeah? Chris: so let's let's back up a little bit, because you mentioned, obviously, dad and a partner started VEX Prime. At some point you come in and kind of take over. What was that kind of transition? Molly: like it's still in transition. Chris: Okay so. Molly: I would say we certainly do not have a policy of nepotism in our business, policy of nepotism in our business, but to say that we don't have a lot of dads and daughters and family members and cousins and aunts and uncles all working together, we would have a long laugh. So my dad is still involved in the business. He's still a full-time lawyer. He's still a full-time lawyer and he is, you know, he helps us with all sorts of higher level finance, legal type ideas. I mean he's all over the map there, Our chief operating officer, Mike Knapp, the original partner. He's still working and he manages all of our managers and operating team. His daughter is our HR director and we have a marketing director who's been with us for almost 20 years and her husband is a project manager for us. So, and then on our you know extended family, I mean we really we have have tons and tons of family members working together and we actually view it as a real asset because we're all so passionate and deeply engaged in the business, because we're looking for it to be as best as it can be, but we are also, I would say, have investors from our community and our friends and family. We've raised a lot of money and so we are very careful because we're trying to make money for all of our investors. We have a fiduciary duty to that. So, I think in many ways, part of our culture is we are a family business, but we're not run like a family business at all Right. So how was it? I guess? Chris: you coming back in and you know I guess dad and his partner letting go of some things, and I mean you know, I know from experience. You know we have clients that go through this and I've had some guests on the podcast. You know everyone experienced a little different. What can you share about maybe some of the things that, looking back, probably could have done better or things that actually went well? ADVERT Hello friends, this is Chris Hanslick, your Building Texas business host. Did you know that Boyer Miller, the producer of this podcast, is a business law firm that works with entrepreneurs, corporations and business leaders? Our team of attorneys serve as strategic partners to businesses by providing legal guidance to organizations of all sizes. Get to know the firm at boyMillercom, and thanks for listening to the show. Molly: Yeah, I mean, I think one of the things I mean it's always hard and I think that there's an ebb and flow to it. And you know, one of the things I think we did really well and we still do really well is we stay in our lane and I think we're really good at the active debate and listening and having hard conversations but listening to each other's points and coming together to make a decision that is methodical and thoughtful, versus well, you know, it's going to be my way, or the highway, like we very rarely would let someone just take something and run with the decision. We're very consensus oriented but we also stay in our lane. So, if you know, I've probably my strongest background is in marketing. If I feel really passionate about something related to marketing and and I've got my reasons and I'm, you know, persuasively getting everyone on board everyone's gonna be like, okay, cool, cool, yeah, you got it, got it, you know. Or my dad's like the contract needs to read this way. You know, with the Cisco vendor, we're like, okay, cool, great, you got it. So I think one thing we've done well is we. We have a lot of people with very specific expertise and we're able to learn from each other, but not stomp on each other. And so, like Mike Knapp, who's our chief operating officer, and we have got some other great operators on our team they know how to run a restaurant. Well, if I go in there and tell them how to do it, like I'm way overstepping them my lane. Chris: Right. Molly: Right. But if I go in there and I'm like, hey, I noticed like this seemed inefficient, what's going on there? They'll either be like oh gosh, we got to go fix that, Thank you. Or well, this is why we're doing it this way and I can learn from that. Chris: I think there's a lot of humility in that for the whole team Right. Molly: Yeah, you know, or feedback, that happens. Chris: Yeah, you know, no egos. Molly: Yeah, I mean we all have egos. But yeah, I mean I can say to my dad, if we cross that out, we're never going to make this deal, Like, stop being a lawyer. Chris:Right. Molly: I mean you know how it goes. It's like there's always the lines there, but I think we do a good job of being honest, transparent, giving feedback and then, when we cross the line which family members can do, we do a good job of like coming back together. Chris: Good, so there's grace too, right. Molly: Forgiveness grace. That wasn't my best moment, I'm sorry. Chris: Yeah, okay, wasn't my best moment, I'm sorry, yeah, okay. So let's talk a little bit about you know you're, you've grown this business and you've added to it. What are you think about like technology or innovation? Are there things in that realm that you've implemented to kind of help either with the growth or, once the growth has happened, help kind of manage and make it more efficient? Molly: So I came from tech right in Silicon Valley, so it's like, okay, let's get some platforms on this business right. 2000 was the year, and so I've now been through a lot of point-of-sale changes and QuickBooks to Great Plains Accounting, all these Clover, uber, online ordering, and we have tended to actually be pretty early adopters. We probably had online ordering off your phone earlier than most companies in Houston, and it's interesting because they're so great and, in theory, they're going to make your life so much easier and everything is going to be faster and more efficient. I don't always feel that it has worked out that way. Oh okay, feel that it has worked out that way. Okay, you know, I think the layers, the layers can add just more work or buffer or time, even in how long it maybe takes to place an order. And I think we went through. If we go back a decade, I think that was the painful era of technology in the restaurant space, I think. Where we are now with some of the point of sale systems and how they're integrating, how can I let me explain this when a decade ago, or even five years ago, you would be in our restaurant and you would see we'd have our point of sale system, we'd have the drive-thru speaker, we'd have an Uber iPad, a DoorDash iPad, a Favor oh wait, favor called in and then paid with a real credit card. So just imagine. All of that is like just messy. Chris: And you'rust trying to keep up. Molly: Right, we're just coming at you and all we want to do is take the order, take your money and send you on the way with your food right. So, like that transaction, for us that 20 years ago was you walked up to the counter, you paid and you left. Now we've got all these things right and and if the DoorDash order comes in on this tablet, I've got to enter it in this system on the cash register, or it won't go to the kitchen and then the kitchen doesn't get a ticket. So it seems like, in theory, we should all love all of this. And for the consumer who's like beep, beep, beep. Chris: On the sofa at home, right. Molly: Great. It's great for them. For us, it's been hard, you know, and and it has taken a lot of time. And now what? What? My point with technology now is that all those systems are finally talking to each other, and so we were taking more orders through a single unit. There's less double entry. Chris: So technology is catching up right Kind of with the innovation, all the innovation of all that. Now technology is catching up, so it's integrated. Molly: And then behind the scenes is like how our accounting and everything flows over whether it's from our vendors that we're buying food from, and finally everything is catching up. But I think we all take for granted how easy that integration is, and when you're a mid-level size company, like we are, you don't have the financial resources to spend money on the consultants that you really need to hire to help you integrate that, and so it just can be hard. Yeah. Chris: Well, that's a great point, I think, with aspiring entrepreneurs, right, that you you've got to face these challenges and sometimes the only way through them is you know it's going to be extra time and hours on you to figure it out because you don't have the capital to just go hire a consultant to come fix it. And that's one of those lessons learned, right? It sounds easy, sounds fun, but when you're in the middle of it it's either you're going to do it or it's not going to happen yeah, and you get. Molly: I mean, there's so many great ideas out there and great technologies and great marketing ideas, but the the thought process around implementation and execution typically isn't thought through by many companies that we're partnering with. Right. You know, oh, you just do this, this and this, which is a trigger for all of us. We always laugh when we're in a meeting. It's like, oh, it's no problem to switch from this point of sale system, this point of sales, and we're like right they're never there. Chris: That's sweet they're never there past the sales delivery. Right, it's just like. Then they're gone. You're off to sell someone else, that employee will quit if if I say we're gonna switch yeah well, let's talk a little more about. I guess you know you're born and raised here. Becks started here Chocolate Bar. Winfields now, what are some of the advantages that you feel like that you've experienced as a result of being a Texas based? Molly: company. I think Texans are unique in that we embrace entrepreneurs. In Houston, I have, in particular, found this to be an incredibly warm and receptive and we believe in you, molly attitude. I'm out there hustling chocolate so hard. I'm out there selling to businesses and people want to see us succeed. It's not like being in a part of the country where I feel sometimes like well, we'll see if she can make that happen, where they kind of mock you, whereas here I feel like people are behind us and that's such a positive that happen. You know where they kind of mock you, whereas here I feel like people are behind us and that's such a positive place to work, whether it's people who you're partnering with or buying from you or, you know, just giving you money to go make it happen. Right, it's hard to make a business happen without the ability to raise money. Chris: Sure. Molly: And there's faith involved in someone giving you their money to go make something happen. I mean, you never know, right, right. Chris: No, it makes sense. I couldn't agree more. I don't think what you described as kind of that spirit of Houston, houstonia, just kind of a very entrepreneurial, very welcoming and supportive community, love to see others succeed. So you know, let's talk about the contrast of that as we sit here today, and you're in the middle of it, and you're in the middle of it. Molly: What are some of the headwinds that you are dealing with or that you kind of see around the corner, that you're trying to prepare for? You know, I think everything feels a tiny bit chaotic right now, and I think it doesn't matter. You know where you are on any sort of belief system as a business person, you're sort of like what's happening right? And I think our hr director always says this. She's like what's the next right thing to do? What's the next right? And I think, with all the challenges and headwinds, and I think, with all the challenges and headwinds which I have to just globally say I can't specifically mention I'm like, oh, I could be like, oh, the tariffs are this or that. Maybe the tariff goes away tomorrow. It's not really a worry, but it could be a worry. It's just the uncertainty. Yeah, and uncertainty can be a significant economic headwind. Uncertainty can be a significant economic headwind because when we go into uncertainty mode, we are stuck. And we just. It's like we're all of a sudden we're standing on the Galveston beaches and our feet are sinking in that squishy sand. That's so warm right now and lovely. Chris: And we literally can't come out of it we don't do anything. Molly: It creates paralysis. We just go into, like, and so I think what's hard as a leader and as a texan and as an entrepreneur, is to not let that stop us from making decisions and moving forward. Yeah, so I go back to my hr director and says okay, what's the next right thing I need to do? Chris: let that stop us from making decisions and moving forward. So I go back to my HR director and says, okay, what's the next right thing I need to do? Yeah Well, I mean, I think it's one good you have a partner, whether it's any officer or not, but someone that you can lean on and have that. What's great about that is it's simple right. It's how you eat the elephant right, one bite at a time. So big picture can be overwhelming, create a lot of uncertainty, could create paralysis. So, okay, let's go back to the basics and what's the next right step, right, and then maybe with one step, it's easier to take the second step which leads to the third step and all of a sudden you've built some momentum. Molly: Yeah, and you can do something with that. Chris: Yeah. Molly: But it is you know, and at the same time as you take the next step, you've got to kind of know where you're driving towards. Chris: Yeah, so let's talk a little bit about leadership styles, and how would you describe your leadership style? How do you think that's evolved over time? Molly: You know I think I'm not very patient and I think that's hard, and I think it's hard to probably work with me, because we all have a tendency of we've got a great idea. We wanted to have happened two weeks ago. Chris: Right. Molly: Right, not just, not just an idea. It's like oh, that's a great idea, why don't? Why aren't we already doing it? Chris: And why is it already? Why isn't it done already? Molly: Like what's the problem? And so I think one of the things I've really had to work on is patience as a leader, and it's far more fun to be part of a team with a patient leader versus a chaotic always and and I don't do this perfectly well, and so either. I would believe you if you said you did, yeah, you wouldn't you know me for half an hour and you can tell this, but I think I love being a leader that people can say no to now. I think I love being a leader that people can say no to now. I think, it's really hard sometimes to be. You can be the type of leader people can't say no to because they're scared of you or they don't want to say no. But when my team has now in a place where we're close enough and capable enough, where they can say molly, that is a great idea, and if we try to do that right now, we will fail yeah like, okay, I can be mature enough to hear that now and I appreciate you saying that. So I think, I think I don't want to stop pushing us, but I've tried to learn as a leader where kind of thinking of an organ? Right now right, which pedals I should be pushing harder on or less hard? Chris: I think you raise a great point, because I think it's like anything. I think if there's too much of one thing, it's not good. It's that statement of everything in moderation, and I think one of the challenges of a leader is to know when to push and when to back off. So you had to when to be a little forceful versus empathetic and, you know, maybe demonstrating some more grace. But every situation is a little different. So a good leader assesses it and go okay, what type of leadership does this moment call for? Yeah, and it's that awareness, almost right, and learning to be a little bit versatile, because I think if you're all one all the time, you're not going to be as successful as you want. To be right, you will be in some moments, but you're going to fail miserably in others. And again, that's much easier said than done in practice, right? Molly: I mean, it's much easier said than I don't know. You know, I'm so critical of my own leadership skills. It's hard to even walk in here right now and be positive. And yet I would say I'm doing so much better than I was, and, in part, I think it's having people around me who have helped coach me to be a better leader. I've hired coaches, or I have people who've helped me through how to handle certain situations. I think tools help. It's interesting Six months ago, about a year ago we implemented this easy calendar tool so we could watch our projects and hold each other a little more accountable, and we got so crazy. We got off of using that tool and the team was like, hey, can we bring that back? Oh yeah, why do we stop doing that? And so I think when you do have tools that help you as a leader lead, they can be really useful. If they become a way for you to stop having, I think, the productive conversations and you're just kind of using it as a checklist, I think it can be dangerous, but there's ways to use all this technology and tools out there to benefit us as leaders. Sure, and I think that's something I've learned to do a little bit better in recent years. Chris: Any anything you can point to. I always like to ask this is not the fun question but failure or mistake that you experienced or encountered, that you learned from that. You're like that was a growth moment. In hindsight, man, it felt terrible, whatever I look back. And what a growth moment for me, anything you can share there, because I always find that that's such a great learning and it hopefully dispels for listeners, right, because you feel like you're the only one out there failing and he's like, no, you're not. Molly: Oh my gosh, you're going to learn from it. Yeah, and I think you know there's so much shame we only talk about our successes or people only talk about their successes, right, or it's more fun. I mean, I don't want to walk around talking about all the things I've done wrong, and this was a little while ago and I rely on it now because not everything we try. We've just released product at Central Market in June. We just yeah, super exciting. Chris: A chocolate product, a chocolate bar. Molly: We've got truffles and boots and some go to Central Market and buy our products. But also at the airports in the market, we've got some great fun Texas themed products at Intercontinental Airport. So if you're going through the airports, buy some Winfield's chocolate. So you go out there and I'm so excited right now to tell you about this. Right, we're in these great new major retailers and we're in 12 Kroger's. Well, what I'm not telling you is I've been in 15 Kroger's and now we're in 12 because we only find those. I'm not going to tell you about the three that we're not in anymore because they're not. You know, the others are doing great. Go find us at the Buffalo Kroger or the West Gray, go find us at the airport, and I'm not going to come back and be like, well, that didn't work. They never bought from us again. Which is, you work so hard to make those deals happen and get out there in the world and there's so much hustle and it may just not work. So, going back in time, I had an investor and this was a decade ago and we had opened some stores in Dallas, some Bex Prime restaurants, and one of them had failed and we were going to close it and I mean, I was devastated, ashamed, sad, all of the things, and I'd gone out and raised $2 million and I had lost that money. It was over and I had to call our investors and let them know what had happened. Phil Plant, he says so you stubbed your toe for the first time. I was like I did. He's like, yeah, you're going to keep stubbing your toe if you keep at this long enough. Chris: If you keep trying hard enough, right? Molly: If you keep trying hard enough and you keep putting these projects together and businesses. He's like you're going to have some wins and you're gonna have some losses and you're gonna stub your toe but keep going. And it meant I can't. I'm gonna cry thinking about it. He's a really great person and but that meant so much to me in that moment because I mean I had failed big time. I had the. Chris: It didn't work, you know talk about the value of having the right people around you, right? Wow, that's pretty cool. Molly: You know and with Agnes I mean that restaurant took a solid two years to take off. You know I had to go borrow some money to keep it going and now it is a place where our community meets and people love it and then it is neighborhood joy and connection. I could not be more proud of it. But I'm telling you, walking into a restaurant on a Friday night, that you have opened and convince people to give you money to open, and there there's not a single soul in the place not a single soul. Very humbling. Chris: Right, you wanted to go walk the neighborhood streets, going, come on. Molly: Yeah, and so I think you know now with my team I can, we can take the wins and the losses with a little more grace. Chris: Yeah. Molly: You know well, that didn't work. What are we going to try next? Chris: Yeah Well, I think you know it sounds like part of the culture, right, is you said? The one thing about you said as a leader is people aren't afraid to tell you no. And it sounds like you've created a culture where people aren't afraid to fail and learn from it and keep going, and that's to me a sign of a really strong culture. Molly: Well, and it's okay to say like well, that sucked. I screwed that up pretty bad. Chris: Well, we're conditioned to, like I said, we don't talk about failures. I think we're conditioned that, oh, don't talk about that, because it's got to look like it looks on Facebook and everybody's smiling and happy when we know that's not reality. And so we can get past that and just be transparent. Molly: Yeah, authentic. Chris: I think the better off we're all. Molly: But don't you think being more authentic has happened as part of post-COVID? Chris: era. Molly: Don't you think people are more open about their wins and losses? Chris: I think, so I don't know. It's kind of the chicken or the egg. I think Brene Brown started talking about it a lot more and it caught on in the corporate world and that was happening pre-COVID but close to COVID, and then with that the world goes upside down. I don't think anybody knew what. So about uncertainty, no one knew. So I think it did create a feeling of I don't know what's next and this okay to be authentic. And as we started coming out of that, then there's a lot probably exposed more in the sports world about mental health and all that kind of just built on itself, where I think we're learning it's okay and it's more acceptable to be more authentic. Right, it's a good thing, it's a great thing. Molly: It's way more fun to live in this world. I think I'm not. Fun is not the right word, it's just grounding. Chris: Yeah. Molly: It's more real. Right, I meet more real people. Chris: Agreed, agreed. So well, let's turn to a little bit more of a light side, okay, okay, so what's your favorite vacations place? Molly: Oh my gosh. Well, I'm a, I love adventure. So you know, skiing, hiking, colorado one of those Texas and Colorado type people for sure Love going down to Galveston and fishing and being on the beaches down there, and then we love to scuba dive. So hit the Caribbean. Chris: Awesome, that's all great things. Molly: I can identify with that Stay out of the sun. Chris: You're in the food business, but, and so this is my favorite question to ask every guest Do you prefer Tex-Mex or barbecue? Oh man Hardest question of the podcast. Molly: This is so hard that I might have to Gosh. You know I'm probably a barbecue person. I think I'm going to go. Chris: We have a lot of good barbecue around here. Look, it's a hard question for a reason we have a lot of good barbecue, a lot of good tex-mex. You know, I've even had people try to answer it by combining both there's not. Molly: you know, look at levi good, he's got his tex-ex and his barbecue. He's sort of doing it right, that's right, that's right. Chris: So well, I want to, you know, just wrap this up by saying thank you for coming on and sharing your journey, excited to see what you're doing. Obviously, we watched the Becks on Kirby get redone because we're right around the corner, but what you're doing with the windfield chocolate sounds exciting and uh. Hopefully, now people hear this, they'll know more about agnes and yeah, come to all of ours. Molly: You can do breakfast at agnes, lunch at beck's, dessert at windfields. Chris: You hit them all I like it, yeah, so there you go, uh kind of a full service yeah, integrated, you can do it. Them all love it it Well, Molly, thank you for coming on. Molly: Thank you for having me. Chris: Really appreciate you taking the time. Special Guest: Molly Voorhees.

Kelly and Jason first met at work six months ago and have actually started dating one another two months ago. Kelly tells us that they both work in separate departments, but nobody at work really knows about their relationship. Recently Kelly took a new coworker named Becca out for drinks to welcome her to her department and she revealed that she has a work crush on Jason. At the same time, Becca showed Kelly messages Jason had sent her and some of the photos were the same things Jason had sent Kelly.   We call Jason pretending to send him a free bouquet of flowers and when we ask him who he wants them sent to, Jason asks to send them to Becks. Find out what's really going on in this week's War Of The Roses! 

Episode Summary: In this deeply moving and honest episode, Amy Wheeler welcomes Lisa Becks—a yoga teacher, clinical social worker, and long-time practitioner—who shares her lifelong journey with yoga as a steady companion through grief, motherhood, cancer, and healing. Lisa recounts how she first encountered yoga in her early twenties while grieving the sudden loss of her mother, and how that one class at a Zen Buddhist center in Michigan led to decades of inner transformation.From the profound influence of her first teacher Barbara Linderman (a direct student of Śrī T. Krishnamacharya) to her healing experience with Kate Holcombe after a breast cancer diagnosis, Lisa's story reminds us that yoga isn't about performance or ambition—it's about returning to ourselves, again and again. Throughout this conversation, Amy and Lisa reflect on parenting without a mother, the reverberations of our actions and emotions, and how the most healing practices are often the simplest and most sincere.Listeners will be inspired by Lisa's vulnerability, her gentle wisdom, and the way she lives the teachings she practices. Whether you're new to yoga or have been on the path for years, this episode is a tender reminder that yoga, when approached with sincerity and self-awareness, meets us exactly where we are. Key Topics Covered:Grieving the loss of a parent and finding yoga as a healing anchorThe sacred presence of humble teachers and quiet transmissionEvolution of practice across life stages: young adulthood, motherhood, illnessSelf-awareness, self-regulation, and the nervous systemUsing observation instead of judgment to shift behaviorTeaching yoga as a form of service and continued self-discoveryCancer recovery, the role of gentle discipline, and meeting yourself with graceYoga as a way to parent consciously without inherited patternsComing home to the self—again and again Mentioned in This Episode:Barbara Linderman (student of Śrī T. Krishnamacharya)Kate Holcombe (teacher in the tradition of TKV Desikachar)Inward Bound Yoga Collective, Ann Arbor, MIOptimal State Yoga Therapy Training About Lisa Becks: Lisa is a yoga teacher, clinical social worker, and mother of two. She offers private yoga therapy sessions by request and believes in the quiet, transformative power of personalized practice. Lisa does not actively market her services, but those who find her often discover a steady, compassionate guide.Amy Wheeler, Ph.D. is the Chair of the Department of Yoga Therapy and Ayurveda at Maryland University of Integrative Health (MUIH) and a leader in the fields of yoga therapy and Ayurveda. She played a key role in helping to set standards for Ayurvedic Yoga Therapists at the National Ayurvedic Medical Association (NAMA) and served as President of the Board of Directors for the International Association of Yoga Therapists (IAYT) from 2018 to 2020. www.TheOptimalState.comMaster of Science in Yoga Therapy https://muih.edu/academics/yoga-therapy/master-of-science-in-yoga-therapy/ Explore MUIH's Post-Master's Certificate in Therapeutic Yoga Practices, designed specifically for licensed healthcare professionals.  https://muih.edu/academics/yoga-therapy/post-masters-certificate-in-therapeutic-yoga-practices/ Try our Post-Bac Ayurveda Certification Program at MUIH: https://muih.edu/academics/ayurveda/post-baccalaureate-ayurveda-certification/