Podcasts about imperial rome

The Time Riders: Part 16 To further the science. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. There was a knock at the door and Valentina came in, pushing a silver cart in front of herself. "Thought it might be time for refreshments," she chirped, her cheerful brown eyes not at all fazed by the scene in front of her. She looked at Becky. "I figured you might find some electrolytes handy, so I have green smoothies, strawberry-banana smoothies, coconut water, and OJ. That should fit the bill, right?" "Thank you so much, Val," Becky said, not at all bothered by being naked in front of this girl. Clearly it wasn't out of the ordinary, so she didn't care. Not to mention she'd referred to Mike and Karen as 'Master' and 'Mistress', so there was more to her employment than met the eye. Nanu was staring at Val's outfit again, making Val giggle. She left the cart and approached the tiny Egyptian girl now, smiling. "Watch this, Nanu," she said before pulling her arms into her chest and doing on spin, her short skirt flaring out and twirling around her, revealing her tiny black panties. Nanu clapped excitedly, her eyes wide with delight. "Great, now she'll want to own one of those outfits," Becky sighed, shaking her head. "I'm sorry for the fib I'm about to tell about you, Val." She looked at Nanu. "It's a pretty outfit, yes, but it's a slave's outfit, darling." The Egyptian girl blinked. "She is a slave?" "Can't you see the collar she's wearing?" Becky pointed out, indicating Val's black lace choker, with the glittering white stone on the front. "She; is a slave to the gods?" Nanu murmured, lapsing into thought about that before looking back at Becky. "Well, that doesn't sound so bad, does it? We should become their slaves." Karen broke down giggling, hiding her face in her husband's massive arm and kicking her feet cutely. Mike just smirked while Becky sighed and rolled her eyes. Valentina had no idea what had just been said, but based on her employers' reactions, whatever it was hadn't panned out as Becky intended. She decided to make herself scarce. "scuse me, servant stuff to do," she chimed, doing a curtsy before leaving and closing the door behind her. Nanu sat up, straddling Mike's waist and trying to figure out why the goddess was laughing. "Really?" Becky groused, giving Nanu a sour look. "I rescue you from slavery, and you decide to volunteer for it because it's these two?" "Do you blame me?" Nanu said with a shrug. "As long as I get fed and fucked, this seems like a good life with pretty clothing." "You do not need to be a slave for us to do that with you, Nanu," Karen pointed out, caressing her arm. "Well, nobody's fucked me yet," Nanu announced, trying to pout rather unsuccessfully. "What good is being a free woman if it doesn't get me cock when I need it?" "I see food and sex are her two primary drivers," Mike mused. "And possibly revenge," Becky added, watching as Nanu reached behind herself and took hold of the currently soft cock and began massaging it. "If you see her whispering into her palm, shit's about to get real. Honey, that might not be a good idea." "They said I don't need to be a slave to fuck them," Nanu replied, still stroking and now fingering herself, as if to get ready. "I want to be fucked." "Let the chips fall where they may, I guess," Becky said, sitting up and moving around the bed to join Karen. Soon, they were in a sapphic tangle, limbs wrapped around one another and kissing deeply. Nanu watched while she stroked the god's cock, slowly bringing him to life. Karen was on top of Becky now, sitting up and straddling with their legs scissored and their wet pussies kissing. She began to squirm her hips, and Becky did the same, groaning in pleasure. "Hmm, missed this too," she murmured. "As did I," Karen sighed, pulling Becky's leg up so that it was braced against her with her toes in the air. They slowly slithered together, nether lips mingling, clits brushing against one another. They were both wet enough that they could hear their lovemaking. The god was hard now, and Nanu was determined to do this right. She moved backward and pushed up as tall as she could on her knees, her cunt directly over the huge cockhead. She pressed against it and moved around, making sure she was good and wet. She felt the tip just push her lips apart slightly, and inched her way down. She bit her lower lip as the pressure increased, feeling a very slow penetration. She gasped and shuddered as the head went inside, stretching her in a way she hadn't felt before, except with a fist. There was an audible, wet and almost gristly 'pop' noise, followed by another from somewhere inside her hips structure as she sank down and sat very still. Becky and the two professors looked at her somewhat curiously. "Nanu?" Becky asked. "You okay, darling?" The tiny girl didn't respond, still staring off into space, her eyes unseeing. Finally, a single tear was trickling down her cheek. "Oh, well done, Ramrod," Karen said rather sarcastically to her husband, still looking at Nanu. "Even if you didn't break her in half, she's still going to have hip dysplasia." "I didn't make her do it," Mike pointed out. "I hope we have a wheelchair around, though." The Egyptian girl finally opened her eyes, slowly, and took several deep breaths, her palms resting on the god's muscular abdomen. She looked up at the ceiling, puckering her lips and making sucking sounds as she tried to center herself. She trembled as she pushed up on her knees, starting to move, and then shook almost violently as she sank back down. She squeaked and then whimpered, going still. Then she repeated the process, taking it slow. "Well, I'll be damned," Becky mused as she watched, still grinding her cunt against Karen's. "She actually did it and didn't kill herself. She'll be trying to sit on fire hydrants next." Nanu didn't make it more than three strokes up and down before she clapped her and over her mouth and screamed into it, her entire body shaking as she came. Once she'd recovered, she began moving up and down again, a little faster, determined to have at least one more orgasm before she died. She straightened her torso and kept moving up and down, her eyes closed and a shameless moaning escaping her lips. She lasted a little longer this time, but still ended up clamping both hands over her mouth and screeching, almost convulsing before she simply wilted, collapsing forward on to the god beneath her, eyes wide open but unseeing, chest heaving as she tried to breathe. "Determined little thing, isn't she?" Karen mused, looking on, even while she made love to Becky. How she'd missed this feeling with her favorite student. "You'd have to be, to survive what she did pretty much her whole life," the blonde replied with a sigh, undulating beneath her teacher. "She's such a sweetheart, but she surprises me sometimes with a brutal mercenary streak. And her morals are; decidedly different from ours." "Noted," Karen said before leaning down and kissing Becky heatedly, squashing their tits together. They were swallowing one another's tongues, grinding and girl-fucking their way to bliss, until Becky wailed into Karen's mouth, cumming hard. Karen followed moments later, bathing Becky's cunt in her sticky essence. They wrapped themselves up in one another, kissing deeply and just enjoying the shared post-orgasm bliss. It had been too long, and Becky would do her damndest to make sure that didn't happen again. She almost giggled through the kiss as she thought about the fact that she had access to a time machine, if she really needed to see to the issue. She and Karen rolled themselves together into Mike's side, snuggling into him while Nanu seemed quite content to simply remain motionless on top of him. Given that she was almost bolted down to his cock, she might not have had much of a choice in the matter, mind. "You okay there, Prof?" Becky asked, smirking up at him while she caressed her other idol. "Might've been a while since I've been in anyone quite this tight," Mike replied, smiling and pretending to wince, as if being clamped inside Nanu was somehow painful. "Excuse you, sir," Karen chimed, trying to sound indignant, but failing as she giggled. "Am I to understand I am not tight enough for you?" "You're the perfect amount of tightness, Gordon, and you know it," the huge blond man said, reaching over and caressing his wife's ass cheeks. Karen purred contentedly at the contact, snuggling into Becky even more. Becky sighed, because she loved watching the profs together. She'd never seen two people more desperately in love, or more perfect for one another. "So is it just you and Nanu in your little arrangement?" Karen asked, looking down at her student and gently poking her nose. "Well," Becky began before offering a weak smile. "It's complicated?" "Given what a hard time you had earlier, perhaps I shouldn't be surprised," mused the older woman, smiling kindly. "Are you hiding another girl from elsewhere in the world?" "No," Becky said, blushing. "I;” If she couldn't tell these two, who could she tell? "There might be an angle with one of my students," she confessed. "Rebecca Nightingale Fischer," Karen said, her smile becoming a smirk. "You and a student? You naughty girl. Not that Michael and I are in any place to judge, of course." "Don't I know it," Becky giggled. "Yeah, there is. Or there will be. I don't know how to explain it." "One of those moments again, clearly," Mike said, his other hand stroking down Nanu's back. She looked positively tiny on top of him, like a kitten gone to sleep. She was stirring and slowly coming back to life. "Don't try too hard, Rebecca." "Yes sir," she said rather reflexively, but she also enjoyed the little tingle she always got from obeying him. "Mark and I, and Nanu, will be a thing by the time summer rolls around." "M-ark?" Nanu mumbled tiredly, almost yawning. Had she fallen asleep? "What about M-ark, Mistress?" "She calls you Mistress, hmm?" Karen observed. "It looks like I'm not the only one with a kitten on my hands." Becky blushed. "She; insists she be allowed. I've tried to break the habit, no dice." She looked at Nanu now. "I was just explaining about waiting until the summer before we will be seeing Mark." "You get to see him all the time at school," Nanu pointed out. "But you say you can't fuck him. I hope they understand, because I sure don't." "Nonlocal measurement," Karen said, listening to the two younger women speak in Latin, although she was talking to her husband. "Low-entropy probability that falls outside the Born System." "And deterministic despite a Dirac constant and equation," Mike said before he chuckled and began sitting Nanu up straight. She shuddered and gasped deeply, seeming to have forgotten that she was speared on him. Her eyes were wide as she stared down at where her cunt was split wide apart by his massive erection. She didn't seem to be able to process anything like that fitting inside her. "Christ," Becky muttered, shaking her head. "I'm supposed to be a physics teacher, and I have no damn clue what you two are talking about." "Ultimately, determinism," Mike replied, letting Nanu try to adjust. "I remember teaching you the concept." "And I remember the lessons," Becky sighed. "Never thought they'd be applied to me personally. I keep forgetting you two are religious." "I think it's pretty much a given that you, my dear, are meant to study quantum crystallography," Karen cooed, stroking the blonde's cheek. "So of course, Michael and I will teach you everything we know, and will help you further on that path. You were, without question, our most gifted student. This is your chance." "What's everyone talking about, Mistress?" Nanu asked, shifting around her hips to make sure they weren't actually fractured. "You're talking in your stupid En-gush." "Nanu, we'll speak Latin so that you're not left out," the goddess said gently, reaching over and stroking the Egyptian girl's thigh. "We were asking Rebecca if she wanted to come and teach with us soon, instead of staying where she is." Nanu considered and then looked at Becky. "Mistress, I think you're very smart, but I'd think you were very stupid if you didn't take this offer. And take M-ark with you, maybe it'll make him less stupid." "I guess that settles it," Becky sighed, shaking her head. "I can't refute those points." "This Mark of yours sounds like a real charmer," Karen teased, finally sitting up and then clambering off Becky. She moved aside while her former student sat upright, rotating her neck and stretching her shoulders. "He must be a demon in the sack if you're willing to put up with his apparent lack of intelligence." "He's not stupid, he's just; he doesn't find applying his brain power all that agreeable, except to get himself out of trouble," Becky explained. "As for him being a demon in the sack, he's not bad, but; well, I'd been going through a dry spell when this all happened." "There is no excuse whatsoever for you to be going through a dry spell, young lady," Mike told her, sitting up and still keeping Nanu in his lap. But she squeaked when he turned her around, still nailed to him by his cock, which felt like it was battering her rib cage from below. Her eyes were wide as she just sat and listened. "You're every bit as attractive as you are intelligent, Rebecca, so if you're experiencing a dearth of sex, that's just you being difficult." "It's hard to find partners who measure up," Becky grumped. "Except for Nanu, of course." Nanu sniffed and nodded righteously, happy to be included in whatever the fuck they were all talking about. She was used to being ignored as a slave, she had no intention of being ignored now that she was a free woman. "You'll come to the housewarmings, yes?" Karen asked. "The third and the fourth weekends of this month." "You're having two housewarmings?" Becky asked. "Why two?" "One is the official housewarming, where I take over as head of the Blackwell elder line and its operations," Karen replied. "The one the following weekend is of a more fun and; well, risqué nature. The invite list for that is much more select. You and Nanu simply must come to both." Becky turned her head to look at Nanu. "Did you understand all that, my love?" Nanu thought about it. "Karen is becoming Mistress of this palace and there are two celebrations, one official, and one that is; naughty. She wants us to come to both." She leaned forward toward Becky now, her look an imploring one. "Can we please, Mistress?" "Of course we can!" Becky laughed gaily. "I wouldn't miss this for all the gold on earth!" More joyous laughter, and they all embraced one another, finding partners and beginning the lovemaking again. Another hour later, the Byron Lounge. "I'm really hoping you like this," Becky said as she poured the wine into her host's glasses. Mike and Karen were sitting on a large chesterfield together while Becky and Nanu were in a smaller loveseat across from them. The table the glasses were on was in the center. "You'll probably find it very unique." "It's potent, I can already tell," Karen remarked, watching her student pour. "The nose is quite powerful from here." "Interesting color for a white wine, too," Mike added, noting the distinct amber tint to the liquid. His wife was right, it was strong. It almost stung the olfactory senses and poured like a syrup. Even Madeira wines were lighter than this. The maderizing process must have been unusually acute. Becky handed each of her companions a glass and then sat down next to Nanu. The three women all looked at Mike, expecting him to lead the toast. He nodded and held up his glass. "Dignitas amicorum pie zeses vivas." Karen nodded and repeated the toast, but in English, the only time Nanu ever considered the language divine and lovely. "Worthy among your friends! Drink that you may live. May you live." The bouquet was sharp, certainly, and Mike guessed the alcohol content was well north of fifteen percent. The wine was clearly meant to be sweet, but the robust body was definitive. This wine must have been aged longer than Becky had been alive. Where had she gotten it from? He glanced over at his wife, who had an even more acute nose and sense of taste than he did, and she was examining her glass quietly. Karen was rolling it around inside her mouth quietly, letting it play over her refined palate. Her eyes caught his, and they knew what the other was thinking. Becky and Nanu watched quietly. It was always fascinating to Becky how these two operated. "That's an Aglianico grape, I'm sure of it, even though I have never had one quite like that," Karen mused. "It's been aged in clay," Mike agreed, nodding. "For a long time. The hangovers must be murder." They both looked at Becky, who smiled hopefully. She wanted them to like it, but also hoped they wouldn't ask more questions she couldn't answer. She was doing her best. "Rebecca, I'd like to have Jordan and Tatyana try this, may I call them in?" Mike asked. She nodded and he bipped his smartwatch, asking the former seneschal of Blackwell Manor and its current one to join them. They came in together some minutes later, while Mike and Karen were still discussing the wine. "You rang, my friend?" Jordan asked, while Tatyana nodded her head respectfully. Jordan saw the bottles on the table, noting the amber color. "Is that a Malvazia wine? Very strong, I can feel it tickling my nose from here." "With Rebecca's permission, we would like for you two to try this," Karen suggested, standing and walking over to a small cupboard from which she retrieved two more glasses. "It's quite unlike anything either Michael or I have tried, and I thought we had a very broad palate by this point." Karen poured two small glasses and brought them over to the pair. Jordan, who had been the Blackwell estate sommelier for decades, and Tatyana, its current sommelier, both examined the amber libation curiously. Jordan put the cup to his lips and sipped it. Tatyana did as well, the only reaction from her being her eyes narrowing slightly. "That is very unique, I must say," the older man said finally. "It reminds me a Sangiovese in some ways, but; more primal somehow?" "It is an Italian wine, I think," Tatyana added. "But unlike any I have tried before." "It's what I imagine a Falernian wine would be like, if the genuine article thing still existed," Karen posited. "But those methods are lost. We only know them from poetry and accounts of Roman historians, such as Galen and Pliny. This is; wondrous to try." Becky sighed slightly, relaxing. She was so worried about running into time lock that it was a relief she'd managed to let them actually taste the wine. The profs knew something was up, that she couldn't help them, and they would just have to figure out as much as they could on their own. Was she meant to have done this? Was it Fating? She banished the thought from her head, she would drive herself crazy. She was here to have fun with the two people who had made her who she was, and to share that joy with Nanu. To her delight, Nanu seemed to be acclimating well, even if she was in awe and fear of these 'gods'. Mike looked at Becky now. "This must have cost you a pretty penny, something this unique." Becky smiled. "I can manage more, if you want. As many bottles as you like. Just don't ask how or why." "Fair enough," Karen said, looking over at her husband. "And we just found our drink of choice for that toga party we discussed." Mike laughed and Becky giggled. Poor Nanu. She escapes slavery from Imperial Rome, only to end up in a time period where dressing like the patricians who enslaved her was the height of chic at a party. Rome was clearly the eternal city in more ways than one. And this one time, wining about it was a good thing. Later that afternoon. "Mistress, look at all these men," Nanu said quietly, as if the portraits and busts they were walking by could hear her. She could've sworn some of them were staring right at her, their eyes following her movements. "They are all rather frightening to me." Becky nodded as she walked hand-in-hand with Nanu down the Hall of Ancestors. "I remember the first time I saw them, my love, and they intimidated me as well. They are the ancestors of my professor, going back almost a thousand years." Nanu seemed rather surprised, and a little wary. "They're all gods?" Shit, how do I explain this without breaking her mind? Becky wondered rather wearily. "They all have the same hair like the god, maybe lighter, and the eyes," Nanu observed, still speaking quietly, so that the numerous men didn't hear her. "I can't tell if they're as big as he is." Okay, extra complication there as well. "No, my love, they are the ancestors of Karen," Becky explained, knowing this wasn't going to get easier. That revelation gave Nanu paused. She stopped and looked up at Becky now, almost frowning. "But they look like him, not her. They have the same straw hair and the eyes the color of the sea." She looked down at the ground now as she tried to parse out what her Mistress was telling her. "But her eyes are the color of his hair; maybe they are brother and sister?" Now Becky's eyes widened. "Well, if Iupiter and Iuno were brother and sister but also husband and wife, why can't these two be?" the Egyptian girl reasoned. "They gave birth to all the gods. But; where are these gods now?" She gestured broadly at the hallway and the gallery of busts and portraits. "Nanu, I; I don't know," Becky confessed, trying not to falter in explaining. "I've never met them, honestly. I met the father of Karen, that was it." She pointed to an imposing portrait of Jonathon Blackwell, Karen's father, which hung on the wall not far from them. "And where is that god now?" Nanu asked. Becky hadn't done herself any favors by mentioning she'd met other 'gods'. She tried distraction now, pointing at a large open space nearby on the wall. "Look, that is where the portrait of Karen will go, once she is officially head of her fa; of the pantheon." Well done, Fischer. Nanu looked at the empty space. "So the goddess will be the supreme ruler? What of the god? She seems to obey him, why will he not be up there?" This was getting harder and harder. Becky squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think of a remotely plausible answer. What a rotten moment for time lock to not interfere. "He is from a different family of gods, my love," she said finally, giving up. She didn't have the mental strength to overcome Nanu's fantasies. "A line of mighty ones, but that doesn't mean that she won't rule her own family. She may obey him, but she is their leader." It was true, just massively out of context. "So we are invited to the festival that sees her become ruler?" Nanu asked in wonder. "We are very important, aren't we?" It was finally a question Becky could answer honestly. She smiled and caressed the younger girl's cheek. "Yes, my love. We are very important to them. That's why they want us there." "What does the goddess' name means, Mistress?" queried Nanu. "Karen. It is so unusual to me." Another smile. Becky knew this tidbit, because she had laughed with her mentor about it so many times over the years they'd known one another. "Her names means 'Purity', my dear." Another wry face from Nanu. "But she fucks like Venus, Mistress. I'm not sure 'pure' is the best way to describe her." Becky restrained a giggle. "And the god? What does his name mean?" Becky happened to know that one as well, since the name was common enough. "His name means 'godlike', or 'like unto a god'." "Well at least that one makes sense," Nanu admitted. They continued walking, with Nanu gaping at just about everything. Mike and Karen were seeing to a small matter, and had suggested that Becky take Nanu for a stroll around the estate. Becky had to think about what might catch her attention, and what she'd even be able to understand. She'd already shown Nanu the service elevator, and the young woman was stunned how the tiny room could bring her to different places at the simple push of a button. Food always interested Nanu, but if they were staying for dinner, she could keep the little glutton out of the chef's way for a few hours. Glenda showed them the garage, with all the exotic and rare cars. Nanu seemed especially taken with the huge jeep and the bright red Countach. They found Ari in what was apparently an arcade (rich people, go figure!), and they watched while he played Street Fighter IV. Nanu looked on in fascination as Ari controlled the little man inside the box, making him beat up another little person. Before she got overstimulated and bloodthirsty (Becky was beginning to suspect that violence and sexual arousal were quite mated in Nanu's psyche), they went to find something else to look at. Soon, they found themselves in the compassion greenhouse. The rather pungent odor hit them the moment they opened the door. Nanu wrinkled her nose and pinched it shut with her fingers. "They grow asterion, Mistress?" she asked, her voice sounding funny before she was keeping her nose pinched shut. "I remember it from the house of my Flavian masters. We made ropes and rugs with it. They would bake the seeds into cakes. The cakes made me feel tired." Becky nodded. "It's a recreational substance in my time. They grow all sorts of things here, some of which will be very new to you." "I will get tired if we stay in here," Nanu said. "Just from the smell of the plants." Tempting, Becky thought, but ultimately decided against it. There was still lots to do, after all. They toured some of the other greenhouses before heading back into the Manor. In the foyer, they ran into two young women. Becky stepped up to greet them. "Hi, I'm Becky, this is Nanu," she said, shaking their hands. The rather buxom brunette seemed very pleasant, although Becky could already tell she was a bit of a space cadet. The other one, a shorter girl with honey-blonde hair in a pixie cut, was lean and athletic, her hazel eyes observing everything. "Hi, I'm Jeanie," the brunette said cheerfully before looking at Nanu. "Oh, wow, look how pretty you are! I'll bet you're a big hit with all the boys, aren't you?" She bent her knees slightly, resting her hands on them so she was closer to Nanu's eye level. "And what grade are you in?" Becky restrained a giggle-snort, declining to translate for Nanu. The Egyptian girl looked up at her, a rather confused expression on her face. "What's the stupid girl asking me?" she wondered. "She just said you're very pretty and all the boys must love you," Becky selectively answered. "Well, she's right about that, at least, so maybe she's not completely stupid," Nanu sniffed. "Sorry, Jeanie," Becky said, turning her attention back to her new associate. "Nanu doesn't speak English, we speak Latin to one another. So unless you speak it too, I'll have to translate for you." "Oh, yeah, no," Jeanie replied, shaking her head. "Fre'n' me barely speak English, so I guess you're on duty for us with the Latin stuff." "Hey now," the pixie-haired girl said, giving Jeanie a look before also stepping forward. She was wearing some chinos and a tank top, her jacket thrown over her shoulder. She shook Becky's hand. "Hello, I am Freja. We have been hearing about you both, I am honored." She smiled at Nanu now. "I am happy to meet you, Nanu." Becky translated, but Nanu didn't seem to hear what she was saying, since she was focused on Freja. The Danish girl was not much taller than her, but also had tiny tits, barely worth mentioning. She was smirking as Freja put out her hand, and instead of shaking it, she simply put her hands on her hips and pushed her chest forward slightly, thrusting out her tits. Freja faltered somewhat at the sight of them on display like that. "Anyhows," Freja said, turning her attention back to Becky, even if her wife was still staring at Nanu's chest. For a tiny girl, she had a huge rack. "Jeanette is my wife, we are pleased to be making your acquaintances. You ams staying for dinner?" Becky nodded, ignoring the fact that Nanu was turning slowly left and right, showing off her bust in profile. "The profs convinced me to come work as a Physics teacher at the uni. Do you two go there?" "Yes," Freja confirmed. "Jeanette is in Health and Nutrition Sciences, and I ams at the Skule." "Ooh, an engineer," Becky breathed, smiling. "Love it! You'll probs end up building a lot of the equipment I need in order to; Nanu, stop that, you brat!" She nudged the smaller woman with her hip since Nanu was cupping her tits and squishing them together. Either one of her tits was much bigger than both of Freja's, and clearly the girl was self-conscious about it. This was no doubt some leftover competition and survival trait in Nanu, finding advantage in whatever form it came. Given how she'd been mocked the other night at the bar, maybe she shouldn't be surprised. Still, she couldn't let her behave that way. "Jeanie, honey," she said, smiling at the other half of the married couple. "Would you mind taking Nanu and finding her a bathroom? I want to pick your wife's brain about something with engineering." "Oh, a hundred p," the brunette said, nodding and taking Nanu by the hand. "How'd you say 'Let's go pee' in Latin?" Becky couldn't believe she was saying this, but obliged. "Eamus mingere." "C'mon, Nanu," Jeanie said to the confused Egyptian girl, leading her off. "Eat a moose lingerie." "Even for her, that was nowhere near the close," Freja sighed as she walked along with Becky now. "I just wanted to get Nanu away from you, she gets competitive," Becky said. "Sorry about that. She was raised as a slave, so she has a survival mode about not being the smallest and weakest." "And my tits, they are smallest and weakest," the Danish girl muttered. "Oh, I think they suit you just fine," Becky said helpfully, taking Freja's hand and giving it a squeeze. "'sides, I kinda want to get a look at the rest of you without Nanu around, you look pretty muscular." Freja smiled. "I works out a lot, I guess. I played fodbold, your soccer, and also field hockey. I do some martial arts as well." "Ooh, tell me!" Becky said, pulling Freja into an unused lounge. "Tell me what you take and I'll tell you what I practice." Freja put down her coat and stood there, letting Becky see her body, although she still had her clothes on. Her shoulder muscles were obvious, but she lifted her tank top enough to show up her segmented and rock-hard abs. "I ams having a black belt in Grace Jujutsu, as well as Kenpo, and I also know Fujian White Crane. What do you practice?" "Krav Maga," Becky replied, lifting her own shirt enough to show off her smooth, firm midsection to her new friend. "Started quite a few years ago, mostly to blow off any sexual frustration, and to deal with guys who get too handsy, you know?" Freja smiled and nodded. "I believe you, for you are very well sexy-built. But we should spar, I would love to try myself against your Krav Maga." "I would love that too, Freja," Becky purred, her smile becoming sensual. "Win or lose, gonna love it. But haven't you tried sparring with the big man before?" "Once," Freja said, shaking her head. "He literally squashed me like a bug. I lasted three seconds and he just squashed me." Becky giggled. "He was the one who began teaching me Krav Maga, and every time I spar with him, I get squashed too. I think of them as sex injuries, you know?" Freja laughed. "Jeanette and I, we fuck the profs occasionally, so yes, I understand. We are lovers to them, and to their son and his wife, Karen's younger sister, Alexandra." "They were telling me about that whole arrangement, but I'm gonna need time to sort it out," Becky admitted. "It sounds like it was a helluva year." "I met my wife and married her because of Alex and Alexandra," Freja said, shucking her tank top now and just leaving her tits exposed. She didn't mind. "And what I can guarantee you, Rebecca, is that when you see Alex and Alexandra together, it will make you very happy." "Honey, I don't doubt that one bit," Becky said, pulling her own shirt off and then unhooking her bra. In a bathroom down the way. "See, this is pretty nice, right?" Jeanie said, sitting on the ornate but comfy chair, her chin on her hand while she looked at Nanu, who was simply sitting on the toilet with her pants around her ankles. She'd already managed to go pee, but apparently this stupid girl hadn't noticed and was still talking to her. "Li'l bit of girl bonding time, right?" "You really are dumb, aren't you?" Nanu said, trying to keep the snide tone out of her voice, in case the stupid girl tattled on her to Mistress. "I'm done going piss, now what?" "Oh, I've got an idea," Jeanie said rather eagerly. She pulled her shirt over her head, and then quickly undid her bra, letting her tits fall out. Nanu's eyes widened for a moment as she stared. They weren't the largest she'd ever seen, the goddess' were certainly bigger, and her Mistress' probably were too. But this dumb girl wore them well, and she clearly didn't mind showing them off at a moment's notice. "Now show me yours," Jeanie said, pointing at Nanu's shirt. The Egyptian girl shrugged and peeled off her shirt, and the stupid bra thing underneath, leaving her as exposed as her companion. Jeanie nodded approvingly as she assessed Nanu's tits. "Nice, we can have a lot of fun with those," Jeanie said, getting up and coming to kneel in front of Nanu now. She put her hands on Nanu's tits and fondled them, feeling around and giving them a good squeeze. "Yeah, these're primo, babe. Well done." Nanu didn't have a damn clue what the dunce was saying, but her tone indicated she liked Nanu's tits, and as a result, Nanu was getting groped. She didn't object at all. "Mind if I?" Jeanie asked, not waiting for an answer before leaning in and starting to swirl her tongue around one of her new friend's nipples. Nanu shivered and gasped, decidedly not objecting to this treatment. She hadn't been fucked in over an hour, so this was a good start. She reached forward and groped the brunette's big tits, liking how heavy they felt in her hand. She could feel herself getting wet, and wanted to do things with this girl now. "Hmm, new and better idea;” Jeanie said, pulling back and standing up long enough to go over to a closet and pulling out a large, plush towel. She remembered they were in there after her unfortunate encounter a few weeks earlier with the neighbor kid, who turned out to be necrotic, or narcosomic, or something. She laid the towel out on the marble floor, and then smiled at Nanu, patting the towel and indicating she should lie down. Nanu got off the toilet and laid down on her back as instructed, looking up at the dumb girl. Jeanie smiled and crawled partially over the smaller girl, her tits now hovering over Nanu's face, the nipples touching her nose. She eased down some more until Nanu could get one of the nipples in her mouth easily. Nanu began licking, tonguing and sucking readily. "Hmm, Jeanie for the win with the good ideas," the larger girl sighed, now craning down and beginning to suck and lick on Nanu's ample tits, the two of them losing themselves in the moment. Neither would feel the need to come up for air any time soon. Back in the other room. Becky grunted and strained, lying on her back and hands flexing against the floor. She was pushing with her hamstrings and her ass muscles, sweat streaming now from her nearly naked form. All she was wearing were her thong panties, and it still felt like she had too much on. Freja was lying opposite her, also just in her thong. They both had one leg in the air, locked against each near the ankle, and they were pushing hard, trying to overpower one another. It had been some time since Becky had engaged in a good bout of (the unfortunately named) Indian leg wrestling. Becky gasped and groaned, wondering if Freja was in as much discomfort as she was. She had the height advantage, a longer leg, so presumably more leverage, but Freja was very strong, her body a little bundle of muscle, which Becky had not appreciated until they'd decided on this little contest and they both stripped down. Whatever she lacked in the tits department, Freja made up for in the powerful ass department. Becky wouldn't be surprised if the little Danish girl could crack walnuts open between those cheeks. She heard Freja moan, taking heart that her opponent was working as hard as she was, although they remained in a deadlock at this point. If she couldn't overpower Freja, she'd simply have to hope to outlast her, until Freja's muscles were jelly and she gave up. They hadn't really decided on what the prize was for whoever won, but she held no doubt they'd both enjoy it. "Uh, fuck;” Freja rasped, her leg trembling every bit as much as Becky's. "You ams strong, like Alexandra or Andrea." "I'll take that; as a compliment;” Becky panted, her warm skin slick against the floor. She hoped she didn't stain the marble, she'd have a hard time explaining that to the profs. "You're really damn strong too, babe;” After almost two more minutes of straining and groaning, the strength of both women gave out at the exact same moment. Their legs bent and collapsed down, both of them breathing heavily, supremely tired from the contest. They slowly rolled onto their sides, almost going fetal as they tried to catch their breath. "That was; very difficult;” Freja managed to say. "I'm not gonna like walking on that leg for a week," Becky replied, thinking about the amount of grapefruit juice she was going to be drinking to deal with the lactic acid buildup in her leg and ass muscles. She hoped she wouldn't have to chase Nanu anywhere. "I guess it was a tie?" "Next time, we will make it a sexfight," Freja breathed, thinking she'd need a forklift to get her upright. "That will be easier on my body." "You have a deal, Fre;” Becky said wearily, hoping the profs didn't find her like this. Thankfully, the muscle pains subsided relatively quickly and easily, even if she knew she was going to be sore tomorrow. She found Nanu with Jeanie, and they both seemed much more refreshed and cheerful than her and Freja. She had a sneaking suspicion as to why. Nanu hadn't been in Freja's presence more than three seconds before she thrust her chest forward again, making sure the Danish girl knew who the mayor of Titty-Town was, even if she wasn't quite so blatant about it this time. They'd all gone to the kitchen so that Becky and Freja could rehydrate themselves a little. Freja was just drinking bicarbonate in water, whereas Theresa supplied Becky with her grapefruit juice. Nanu and Jeanie were drinking milk, and the two girls giggled at one another while they downed their glasses. Jeanie and Freja excused themselves, needing to get back to their condo. Jeanie hugged Nanu, making sure they squished their tits together, then did the same with Becky, although perhaps not quite as familiarly. Freja hugged Becky and then took a chance on hugging Nanu to say goodbye. Nanu accepted the hug, but made sure she pressed her tits right into Freja's reminding her who was in charge. Freja sighed, and they made their exit. "Miss Fischer, Mr. and Mrs. DeBourne will meet you in the Spencer Study now," Tatyana said, entering the room and nodding. "They apologize for the delay, things are just rather busy right now." "Well, what with finals coming, and the big ol' housewarmings, I'm not surprised," Becky said cheerfully, taking Nanu's hand and allowing Tatyana to take them to the aforementioned Spencer Study. Inside, Mike and Karen were sitting on a long, ornate chesterfield. Becky strolled in and sat down on a loveseat just across from them, joined by Nanu. Once again, the Egyptian girl seemed to be keeping her eyes averted. "I hope you don't mind, Rebecca, I thought we might continue having more of your delightful wine," Karen said, pouring some glasses. "I'm glad you like it, and especially glad that you aren't asking questions," Becky answered, relieved that her mentors seemed to genuinely understand her predicament, even if they couldn't understand her predicament. "I promise, I'll scare up some more for you." They were happily discussing Becky's future employment at the university, with Mike and Karen almost teasing her with tempting tidbits about all the latest research into quantum crystallography. Nanu listened quietly, understanding nothing, but knowing that whatever was being discussed was important. It was about making her Mistress happy, and nothing was more important to her than that. Well, getting fucked was as important, but clearly she could have both, so why quibble? Soon enough, they were joined by another person, whom Becky and Nanu turned to meet. A tall, young, and incredibly handsome blond man strolled in casually, wearing an infectious grin that Becky would recognize anywhere, even if she hadn't met him some years ago. He was so very obviously a DeBourne. Nanu's eyes went wide again, and she trembled in fear. "There you are, child-mine," Karen said as Alex walked into the study. "You remember Miss Fischer, yes?" "Of course," he said, smiling genially as he walked over to where the guest was sitting with another, smaller and exotic-looking girl. She stood up and he shook her hand, which was firm, friendly, and warm. A definite turn-on. "It's good to see you again, Ms. Fischer." "Oh, God, call me Becky, please," she said, trying to not blatantly ogle her professors' son. He was so much like Mike, only distilled into a more human-sized form, with enchanting electric blue eyes that radiated humor. But there was also a cool aloofness beneath, if he cared to let it be seen, and that was something he got from his regal mother. "You've grown up, Alex, and you were a lady-killer when you were just thirteen, I recall." "Well, everyone kept sayin' you were too old for me, so I had a wait a few years," he quipped, making her laugh. "Who's your friend, Becks?" Becky shook her head, since his new name for her reminded her of Mark. Still, it gave her a tingle when Alex said it, so she didn't exactly mind. He was more than free to keep calling her that. "Alex, this is Nanu. She's staying with me for the foreseeable future." Alex was going to shake Nanu's hand, but instead she slipped down to her knees, staring up at him in reverent awe before dropping her head to look at the floor. She began speaking quietly, her voice little more than a mumble. Alex raised an eyebrow before glancing over at his mother and father, who were still sitting on the large chesterfield. "Is she speaking Coptic? That's Coptic, isn't it? I don't speak that one yet." "Maybe if you were an elder of the church and showed a little more liturgical piety," Karen sniffed, holding her wine glass as she watched and assessed her son and his reactions. "Nanu is from very small-town Egypt, but she speaks Imperial Latin." Becky watched on, intrigued as he looked down at her again. "Please get up;” he instructed in the language of Imperial Rome. Nanu stood, but kept her eyes averted, even while he was addressing her. He smiled at her. "Nanu, I'm Alex. My full name is Alexander." She dared to look up at him again. He was a head, shoulders, and half a chest taller than her. She barely cleared his dad's abdomen. But she was certainly stacked for such a small girl. She had the build of a dancer, except with big tits. "The conqueror is named after you," she said in a hushed tone. "Alexander;” Alex looked back at his parents and Becky. "Does she think I'm a god? She's clearly not Muslim or Syriac Christian." "We haven't quite figured out what she makes of us," Mike replied, his deep voice from behind her making Nanu almost shiver and squeeze her eyes shut. This had been quite the day for her, and she'd met three gods now. How many people could say that? "Well, better you guys spend time thinkin' about it than me," Alex concluded, kneeling down so that he was eye-level with Nanu, taking her hands and smiling. She trembled at the touch. "Welcome to my home, Nanu;” he said cheerfully. She looked like she might faint. Her heart was thundering in her chest again, and she felt dizzy. "I hear you're due to get married, Alex," Becky mentioned, taking the pressure off Nanu before she just expired right there on the Persian rug. "Your aunt?" "Yep," Alex said, rising while gesturing for Becky and Nanu to sit again, which they did, Nanu somewhat unsteadily. Becky gave her some water while Alex eased himself onto the chesterfield next to Becky. Half a second later, Valentina brought in more drinks. Becky smirked at the steaming blue beverage waiting for Alex. Apparently it was some nerdy thing called a 'Romulan Ale'. "Mom's sister that I'm named after. "I take it you've heard the whole crazy story?" "Crazy stories seem to be the theme of this past year," Becky agreed. "Damned if I can get into mine, though. I am looking forward to meeting her as well, though. Your mom and dad have mentioned her over the years, the fact that she was missing from your lives. She and your grandmother were gone by the time I knew them." "Speaking of my baby sister, would you happen to know her whereabouts?" Karen asked, looking at her son. "She went with Aunt Jen to the pub while I was in class," he replied, nodding to Val in approval as he tried his drink. "Aunt Jen had a bunch a followers, so she took them all for a drink." "Meaning it'll somehow magically happen on my tab," Karen muttered while Mike patted her shoulder. "When was that?" "Alexa only had a half day, so they're probably almost home by now," he replied. "Aunt Jen really likes Theresa's coq au vin." He looked at Becky and Nanu now. "You two staying for dinner? Theresa makes killer food." "Well, your chef's bologna hasn't had any disastrous effects on Nanu's digestive tract, so I assume fresh poultry ought to be fine," Becky mused. "Nitrates and preservatives are the enemy, eh?" the young man laughed, once again reminding Becky of his father and giving her a tingle. They finished their drinks and Mike and Karen agreed to take them on a small tour. Becky was rather interested in the energy-saving measures, like the solar panels and the thermochromic windows. They were all touring the temperate produce greenhouse (called the 'Orangerie') some while later when two people joined them. "We're back, and we're not even hammered," the tall, gorgeous blonde chimed musically, the air of the room lightening with her presence. Even the resident butterflies of the Orangerie seemed to dance about when she was near them. She walked right up to Becky and hugged her. "You must be Becky! I've heard a lot about you." "I've heard a lot about you too, but I never would've believed anyone could be as stacked as your older sister," Becky replied, happily returning the squishy hug. "Let me introduce Nanu. Unless you speak Coptic, you'll need to speak Latin to her." "Hi, Nanu!" Alex almost sang as she knelt and hugged the shorter girl. Nanu's eyes looked like they might just spring out of her head before she swooned, not even having a chance to get on her knees and avert her eyes. "I'm Alexa!" "A; leks...a;” the Egyptian girl murmured as the tall, blonde goddess finally released her. She didn't go to her knees, she simply gazed at Alexa in quiet awe. This had been quite a day for her, even by her standards recently. "And I'm Jenny, lovey," the countess said, walking over and giving Becky a hug. "Chuffed to have you around. Have the lord and lady of the manor made their proposal to you yet?" "They have, and I've accepted, countess," Becky replied, enjoying yet another squishy, sexy hug. She had no doubt she'd end up fucking these two women eventually, if not Alex. She'd never had sex with a countess before, just a French noblewoman that she was reasonably certain was her own ancestor. "I could use the pay upgrade, certainly. Gotta pay for the classes to keep this bod toned somehow." "Delighted to hear it," Jenny said cheerfully, the two women still holding one another by the waist as they smiled at each other. Mike and Karen looked on, trying not to smirk. "And you're quite lovely, my dear. Certainly it won't hurt to' "Oh my gosh;” Alexa breathed, looking at the floor as an epiphany shivered through her. She looked up at Becky and Jenny. "We've gotta do that." "Do what, darling?" Jenny asked, looking at her but still holding Becky, their hips touching. "Well, look at us," Alexa said, coming over and inserting herself into the small hug, which was now a three-way. "Three tall, gorgeous blondes; we need to form a clique, or a union or something." "I've never belonged to a union," Jenny mused. "I've never not belonged to a union," Becky added. "Don't think I've been in a clique, though." "Yeah, but where's this ever happen?" Alexa said, pointing at each of them in turn. "Three natural blonde goddesses all together, none of us made of plastic or silicone; we're the world's most awesome and exclusive clique." "A Trinity," Alex added rather unhelpfully. "Yes!" Alexa said loudly, turning and pointing at Alex in excitement while Karen favored her son with a sour look for encouraging this. "The Trinity! That's it exactly!" She took Becky and Jenny by the hands and began pulling them out of the Orangerie, confusing the butterflies. "C'mon! We've gotta go take pics to celebrate our formation;” "Take care of Nanu for me," Becky called back, getting pulled along in Alexa's wake, as was the countess. The girl was frighteningly strong when she was exited; Becky would be amazed if even Andrea was stronger than Alexa. "Feed her or something', that'll keep her occupied." Nanu watched her Mistress disappear with the golden-haired goddess with the giant tits, along with the other woman. Seconds later, the three gods she was left with all turned to look down at her. She stared back at them awkwardly for a moment before opening her mouth and pointing at her gullet, then licking her lips and rubbing her belly. She looks like Nibbles the Mouse from those old Tom and Jerry cartoons when she does that," Alex observed. "Well, let's go see if Theresa can scare up some more bologna for her," the golden-eyed goddess named Karen mused, holding out her hand for the Nanu to take. "Ba-lo;” Nanu said eagerly as she followed Karen out of the Orangerie. "Ba-lo;” Soon enough she'd be eating again, and hopefully someone would fuck her. She hadn't anticipated anything like this happening to her, and she owed it all to her Mistress and the god-machine. It was a good day to be Nanu Tehemet. A study on the third floor. "Okay, so," Alexa began, herding the two women into the room and then closing the door for privacy. "This is gonna be awesome, the world's most elite clique." "It would be nice to belong to something Kat cannot dominate," Jenny mused, nodding. "What does our clique do?" "Just exist to show off how wonderful it is to be a blonde goddess," Alexa reasoned, rubbing her hands together and then assessing them both for a moment. "I mean, we're gotta spread the truth, right?" "Good enough for me," Becky declared readily, watching Alexa go over to a closet and pull out an expensive-looking camera and tripod. "Lotsa pics in various states of dress and undress?" &l

The Time Riders: Part 15 Modern Servitude Compared To Ancient. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Mooredale Secondary. Becky was pinching her eyes as she listened to one of her students try to explain how light was both a wave and a particle. He was saying 'umm...' so often that she began to think she was listening to the Prime Minister. Well, that wasn't fair, the PM was a Gen X'er, it was kind of their thing and all of them did it, with a few notable exceptions. "Thank you, Cory, please sit down before you hurt yourself," she sighed, sitting up straight while the students all snickered at Cory. He sat, blushing. Becky put her glasses back on. She didn't need them, but she thought it helped with the image she meant to convey. "People, I gave you this assignment over two weeks ago, and you need to be able to articulate this on your final exam. Does anyone know how to answer this question?" Becky groaned inwardly when Gina Felton put her hand up. She gestured resignedly for the student to stand. "Light acts or can be measured as a particle or a wave depending on when and how you try to observe it," the smarmy student began. Becky, along with most of the students, just shut their eyes. The bell didn't ring soon enough for Becky's liking, but she needed to get these twerps out of here. "Don't forget, assignments on radiation due tomorrow!" she called after them while they all hurried out of the classroom. She wished she actually kept a bottle of whiskey in her desk drawer sometimes. Mark had avoided looking at her as he left, as if trying to dodge a velociraptor. Thank God she couldn't get out of eventually giving him a passing grade, because he definitely didn't deserve anything more than a Z-minus. "Another day with the peerless minds of the future?" she heard Kay drawl from the door. "Don't worry, babe, moron students have always been a thing. Do you know about a TV show called 'Welcome Back, Kotter'?" "Yeah, I used to watch reruns of it with my dad was I was little," Becky sighed, shaking her head. "These kids aren't funny enough to be Sweathogs, though." "Maybe, but you get through to the ones that count," the older woman said, strolling in and pulling a chair around to sit in backward, straddling the seat and resting her arms on the back. "They can't all be thick as shit, can they?" "Most of them are in your classes too, so you have the same info I do," muttered the blonde, removing her glasses and rubbing her temples. "They really took it out of me today, I can't wait to get back home so that Nanu can f' She pursed her mouth shut and stopped talking. She looked at Kay, who was smiling slyly. "I knew it," the teacher breathed, wagging a finger. "You do have something going on with Nanu, you're bi, Fischer." "Fine," Becky said, rolling her eyes. "It's preferable to having everyone thinking that I'm boffing Simmons in any event." "None of the gals would blame you," Kay said coyly, smirking. "Besides, if you're looking after that Nanu girl for the rest of her life, looking after you is the least she can do." "Gross, Kay," Becky said, frowning. "She didn't trade in being a slave to become a prostitute. I want her to thrive." "Just keep her from singing," laughed her co-worker. "Ya' gonna bring her out again to our next bitching fest?" "She'll want to go, as long as there's food and Zeppli," Becky said, standing now. She needed to get out of here. "We have a play date this Friday, actually, with my profs from university." "Oh, wow, you mean the Viking god and the zillionaire heiress you told us about?" Kay queried. "Lucky bitch. Can you take pics?" "Probably not the sort of visit one takes pics of, or at least doesn't share," Becky pointed out, gathering up her things from the desk. "It's going to blow Nanu away, I'm pretty sure." "Ya' wouldn't need to be Nanu the slave to be blown away, trust me," Kay pointed out. "In any event, don't forget the audit tomorrow. The suits are coming in to make sure we're teaching the right way and being inclusive about grades." "I am so fucked;” Becky grumbled, stuffing her cellphone in her purse. Home. "So what new and exciting things did you do today?" Becky asked as she sat Nanu down for dinner. They were trying meatloaf in gravy tonight, along with mashed potatoes and steamed carrots. Nanu was almost drooling as she looked at the food. "I tried some of your toys out," Nanu said, waiting while Becky put butter on the carrots. "I got scared and quit after trying to use one of them." "Let me guess, the egg?" Becky mused, smirking. Nanu nodded. "I thought that one might freak you out. Don't worry, I'll show you how to use all of them safely, and then you'll love them. What else did you get up to?" "I followed your instructions about using the lapp-topp," Nanu continued, poking the mashed potatoes with her fork. It smelled good, but looked like lumpy white shit. How strange. But Mistress had them on her plate too, so Nanu was clearly missing something. "I looked at pictures of Kana-da, and of Rome, and of my home;” "Rome probably doesn't look anything like you remember it," Becky said, sitting down finally and pouring wine for each of them. It was actually Falernian wine she'd brought back with Mark from their initial visit to Imperial Rome, where they'd first met Nanu. She intended to bring a bottle or two along for the playdate on Friday. Nanu nodded. "It is all ruins. The mighty Romans have fallen. They were not as strong as they thought. Who destroyed them, Mistress?" Becky shrugged as she began to eat. She had made sure Nanu could use her cutlery properly, and Nanu watched her for cues about how to proceed. "It was a slow decline, my love, over a few hundred years. But there were nomadic tribes called Huns who began the fall, and then the people of Germania finished it, the tribes you call Goths." Nanu made a face. "The tall, smelly straw-heads? They made Rome fall? Where are they today?" Becky didn't know quite how to answer that question. Did she talk about Germany and the Third Reich? Would that make sense to Nanu? Or the fact that they were the industrial engine of Europe? She almost laughed at the thought of trying to explain 'goth' subculture to Nanu. "What is this called, Mistress?" Nanu asked, masticating on a mouthful of food. She tapped with the fork at the steaming brown mass on her plate. "It's very good, if hot." "Meatloaf," Becky replied. "It's the ground-up meat of a cow and pig, held together with oats and egg, that baked in my oven. It's like a meat cake covered in gravy." "Gray-vee;” Nanu said, looking at the sauce curiously. It occurred to Becky that Nanu had no analogue for gravy in her own era, and Becky had no damn idea when gravy had been invented. She'd just ask two people she was certain would know when she saw them on Friday. She swore those two knew everything. "I like everyone we have met so far, Mistress," Nanu said, resuming eating. "Even Steve, after he let me try his fire chicken. That hurt so bad overnight, Mistress." "I know, baby, and he won't do it again," Becky assured her. "The next time you eat hot wings, it'll be because you like them and want to. He's probably just glad to know he's not on your grudge list." Nanu nodded. "I had an invideo list when I lived in Rome." "That doesn't surprise me," Becky chuckled. "You wrote down the names of people who pissed you off so that you take revenge one day?" "Well, no," Nanu admitted, blushing a little. "I was a slave, I didn't have a stylus or any parchment or things to write on. When I was mad at someone, or they hurt me and I was crying, I'd lie in my straw and I'd close my eyes and whisper their name into my palm to help me remember it." "Did that work?" "No, I usually forgot," the Egyptian girl grumbled. "My memory is shit." "I'm sorry," Becky said, snickering and trying to control herself. "I promise you, my love, I'm not laughing at you. You just have a funny way of saying things." Nanu sniffed indignantly and continued eating her food. At least food understood her and didn't mock her. Except for the burning chicken. She'd be whispering into her palm about it that night, for sure. Friday morning, finally. "Should I be nervous, Mistress?" Nanu asked while Becky was setting out her clothes, humming to herself. Nanu still didn't have the hang of coordinating her outfits, and left to her own judgement, she usually ended up looking like a crazy homeless person. Ergo, Becky was in charge of dressing her for when they went out. "Even I'm a little nervous, but I always am when I see my profs," the blonde told her, smiling. "It's been about three years since I last got together with them, we met up at a certain club. But I'm also feeling excited. I always have the time of my life when I'm with them." "You're the only person I know of who's ever felt that way about their teachers, then," Nanu said, sitting naked on the bed and watching. "Except for maybe M-ark, but he gets to fuck you." "Just wait until you meet my teachers, then," Becky replied, smiling slyly as she held up a shirt for Nanu to wear. Fifteen minutes later. "This is not the same direction we went to meet your other friends," Nanu observed, looking out the window as they drove. There were fewer of the giant buildings, the so-called 'sky-scrapers', and many of the domiciles were larger, more ornate, with larger spans of grass than at other houses she'd seen. "Do wealthy farmers live in these places?" Becky snickered. Since the area they were driving through was not overly urban, with buildings heaped on top of buildings, Nanu thought they were visiting a rural area. Affluent suburbs like this must have felt strange. "No, wealthy people live in places like this, but they're not farmers. These are like the villas of wealthy Romans, I guess, like the Flavians. They're politicians, lawyers, merchants;” "Do your teachers live here?" Nanu asked. "No, not quite," Becky said, still driving and wondering what Nanu would think when they reached their destination. "It's hard to describe, just wait and see." They continued driving until they turned onto the Bridle Path, and Nanu was gazing in wonder at all the endless trees that concealed the neighborhood from public view. They began passing houses, all of which were affluent, of course, but weren't much more impressive than the ones they'd passed to get here. Then they began reaching the oldest estates, and Nanu's eyes grew wide. The lots grew in size, and sometimes she almost couldn't see the houses. Endless grass and trees, and the houses Nanu could see were huge. Becky was feeling a tingle of excitement as she turned up a long, winding driveway, lined with trees. Some carefully arranged rocks at the entrance had the letters of a word carved into them, but Nanu only caught a glimpse of it as they turned. BLACKWELL "Was that word in the big letters a name, Mistress?" she asked. Becky nodded. She hadn't been here for some years. "The family name is Blackwell. This place is over a hundred years old." "Black; weh;” Nanu said slowly. Nanu was staring at all the trees and the extensive lawn with its topiary when Becky got her attention. "Here we are, darling." Nanu's eyes widened when she saw what they were approaching. The long, massive building was made of gleaming white stone, stretching a long way in either direction. A great fountain in the middle of the black road greeted them, and they circled around it to stop in front of the place. "I no longer think you are wealthy, Mistress," Nanu murmured, gaping out her window as Becky turned off her car, sitting still for several seconds and staring at the steering wheel. The blonde took a breath. "Okay; I'm ready;” "Quid est?" Nanu asked. Mistress had been speaking her dreadful En-gush. "Sorry, honey," Becky said, squeezing Nanu's hand. "I was just getting myself ready;” She got out of the car while Nanu tried to unbuckle herself. Becky came around and opened her door, letting Nanu out before they turned and walked up the short flight of marble stairs to the big white doors. Someone was already waiting for them, a serious-looking woman in grey clothes. "Is that one of your teachers?" Nanu asked quietly as she held Becky's hand. "She looks like a teacher." "Miss Fischer, welcome," the woman said, smiling and nodding her head. "I am Tatyana, seneschal for Mr. and Mrs. DeBourne." "Thank you, Tatyana," Becky said, coming up the stairs. "Please, call me Becky, and this is Nanu." "Hello, Nanu," Tatyana said, smiling. "Hi," Nanu said, remembering how to greet someone and holding up her hand to wave. "Nanu doesn't speak English, we communicate in Latin," Becky explained. Nanu figured her Mistress was telling the stern woman how she didn't speak En-gush, so she just listened quietly. "Then you will need to be my translator, since I confess that aside from English, I only speak Russian, and no Latin," Tatyana replied, gesturing for them to enter and then following. They stopped in the grand foyer, and Nanu was Uhking around, her jaw almost on the floor. "I'm sorry if we're early, I didn't want to compete with traffic," Becky confessed, handing the seneschal a bag in which she was carrying two bottles. "And I've always been terrified of being late where the profs are concerned, so better to be early. I brought some wine I thought they might enjoy." Tatyana nodded. "They are in a virtual conference call at the moment. I have standing orders to make you both as comfortable as possible until they greet you. Let me call the staff, and we'll get started." Nanu watched as the stern woman brought her wrist up to her face and spoke quietly into some device wrapped around it. She then put her wrist down and waited patiently. Nanu was still looking all around, as if her head was on a swivel. The ceilings were so very tall! Everything was white, with gilding. The giant staircase at the back of the entrance hall was flanked by two huge suits of armour, each of them holding a menacing weapon. Nanu resisted the urge to hide behind her Mistress. What kind of teachers were these? Soon, she heard people approaching, and then they were assembling behind Tatyana. When they'd all fallen into place, Tatyana began introductions. "Right, as you lot might have heard, Mr. and Mrs. DeBourne have some special guests today. "I would like to introduce Ms. Rebecca Fischer, and her friend, Nanu." "Welcome," they all said in unison, nodding, except for two women in strange black dresses trimmed in white, who did a graceful little bow that also bent their knees. "Miss Fischer, I'll let my people introduce themselves," Tatyana said, gesturing to the staff. Becky stepped forward, bringing Nanu with her, and she started at one end of the line. "My name's Dave, senior landscaper," the gruff looking man said, shaking Becky's hand. He was positively ancient by Nanu's assessment, bald on top with greyish hair on the sides of his head and his moustache and beard. He looked rugged and tough for a grandfather. Next up, she greeted a young and handsome black man. "I am Yolatunde, but please, call me Tunde," he said, shaking her hand. "I am the junior landscaper." "Please call me Becky," the blonde said, smiling. She felt Nanu tugging on her arm and looked down at her. "They have a Nubian slave?" the Egyptian girl asked, hardly able to keep the wonder out of her voice. Becky chose to not try and address this issue right now, and would simply have to see to it before Nanu said anything awkward. The woman she now stood in front of was tall, rangy and strongly built. She had her dirty blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and her denim overalls did little to hide her curves or her large bust. Her hazel eyes reflected her good-natured smirk. "Andrea, mechanic, plumber, and electrician for the estate." "Can I call you if I ever need my plumbing flushed?" Becky asked as she shook Andrea's hand, feeling something pass between them. Andrea laughed heartily. Yes, this girl would be fun indeed. Nanu seemed in awe of how imposing this woman's build was, not unlike a gladiatrix from Rome, but taller. "Glenda, estate chauffeuse," said another woman, smartly dressed in a grey outfit and wearing an odd little cap Nanu couldn't quite figure out. "If you need to go anywhere while you're staying with us, don't even think of driving yourself, I'll take care of it. It's how the bosses would want it." "Don't I know it," Becky laughed, moving down the line. She shook hands with Marie, a slight, frizzy-haired woman in glasses who was the botanist and gardener for the estate. She had a French accent, and Becky was relieved she'd kept up with her French, not only because she was afraid the profs would quiz her. "Hey, I'm Ari," said a smartly dressed young man with dark hair and eyes and tan features. He was handsome, for sure, but he gave off a gay vibe. "Cybersecurity for the estate. You won't mind if I lock your phone down while you're here, will you? For your own protection as much as anything. It's a good idea to be behind our firewall." "Do what you need to do, Ari, I know it's what the profs would want," Becky said, readily handing over her phone to him. Next in line was a sturdy woman wearing an apron and looking like she'd just come from the kitchen. "Theresa," she said pleasantly. "Estate chef and sommelier. The pleasure is mine, and just let me know what your culinary preferences are." "I'm willing to bet you're going to be Nanu's new favorite person," Becky replied, smirking down at Nanu, who heard her name but had no idea what was going on. She'd just have to wait for her Mistress to tell her. "Hi, I'm Trilby, senior housekeeper," said one of the women in the black dresses. She had light brown hair and was wearing strange things over her eyes. They reminded Nanu of the 'glasses' her Mistress sometimes wore, but these obscured the woman's eyes from view. "If you're staying' over, I'll be seeing to your sleeping arrangements." "Well, I doubt we are this time, but if that changes, you'll be the first to know," Becky said readily. She hadn't been to Blackwell Manor in some years, so the idea appealed to her. Lastly, they greeted an enthusiastic young woman, in another black outfit, but it was markedly different from the one the taller girl wore. This outfit was short and tight, and Nanu ended up staring right at the girl's big tits, which were in her face. Her legs were also visible, and if she moved just right, Nanu was sure she could see her undergarments. "Hi, I'm Valentina, junior housekeeper, but just call me Val," the girl chirped, smiling brightly. Her dark brown hair was worn in a bob, and her brown eyes radiated cheerfulness. Nanu wasn't certain but she also looked like she might have cat ears on top of her head. What was this creature? "Just call me Becky, please, I'm only Miss Fischer when I'm in trouble with your bosses," Becky said, shaking her hand. "And hopefully I'll manage to avoid that with the profs today." "That all depends on how you answer certain questions, Miss Fischer," Tatyana almost seemed to quip, making several staff members chuckle. What on earth was that about? She didn't like feeling paranoid around the profs. "Right," Tatyana announced, turning to look at her staff. "Carry on with your normal routines; if I have need of any of you, I'll call for you. Dismissed." Everyone nodded and then dispersed, leaving Tatyana with Becky and Nanu. The only other one who remained behind was Theresa, and she waited patiently. Nanu was once again, looking around the huge foyer, Uhking at everything. "Hopefully your hosts won't be detained too long," Tatyana said, checking her watch. "Perhaps some food or coffee while you're waiting?" Becky now looked down at Nanu. "Honey, Theresa here is the archimagirus for the estate. She is asking if you would like to eat while we wait for my teachers." The tiny girl nodded readily. Theresa smiled and bent over slightly, her hands on her knees. This girl Nanu was adorable! "Nanu, what would you like to eat?" Nanu figured out what was being asked, and she had her answer ready. "Ba-lo;” she said missing a beat. Theresa looked at Jenny for a moment. "Ba-lo?" "Bologna," Becky sighed, shaking her head. "It is, without question, her favorite food, believe me." "But I can make just about anything she likes," Theresa pointed out, seeming confused. "Why would she just want something as simple as that?" "We don't have taste buds like she does," Becky explained, while Nanu opened her mouth and pointed inside it, then smiled and licked her lips while rubbing her tummy. She looked like Nibbles the Mouse from old Tom and Jerry cartoons. "I think she's addicted to nitrates and preservatives, despite what havoc they wreak on her digestive tract. She was an actual slave where she comes from, so I'm pretty sure she has an iodine deficiency, she loves salt." "Oh, the poor thing," Theresa cooed, taking Nanu by the hand and leading her toward the small dining room. "In that case, I'll give her all the bologna she wants." "Ba-lo," Nanu said readily, willing to let this unknown person take her anywhere if she was going to get fed. Becky walked along behind, along with Tatyana, who watched intently. "A very interesting life you lead, Miss Fischer," the seneschal mused. "Tatyana, I wouldn't even know where to begin these days;” Becky sighed. Thirty minutes later. Nanu was still sitting at the table, eating happily and drinking milk while Becky and Theresa sat with her, the latter watching with no small amount of fascination. "Goodness, she can certainly pack it away for such a little thing," Theresa mused. "I daresay she might give the lord of the manor or his son Alex a run for their money. Does she have two hollow legs?" "She's not a slave anymore, so I stressed to her that she's always welcome to eat as much as she wants," Becky said, still feeling a certain morbid fascination in watching Nanu plow through everything she was offered. "Sometimes I just forget exactly what she's capable of." "Well, as long as she doesn't explode and poor Val and Trilby have to clean her up," Theresa said. "She ate that whole slab of organic bologna I brought out, and now she's killing my brisket." "And less than a week ago, she thought cow meat was a lowly peasant food," Becky sighed, eating her own croissant and having a coffee. It was still breakfast after all, but Nanu's metabolism knew no time zones. "I have yet to find a food she won't eat. She literally destroyed an entire pound of suicide wings the other night at a pub, even though it just about blew her head off. She's kind of relentless." "Good morning, Miss Fischer," said a very elderly gentleman in a clipped but friendly English accent as he entered the room. "It has been some years, hasn't it?" "Oh my goodness, Mister Winson," Becky said happily as she stood up and hugged the new arrival. Nanu even paused and looked up from her brisket to see what was happening. She put down her food and stood up, coming around the table now. She was trying to remember the manners Becky had taught her. Since she'd been a slave and had to stand when, well, anyone was in the room, it wasn't that hard for her to keep in mind. "It's so good to see you again, sir!" "It is good to see you as well, my dear, but please, call me Jordan," the man said, returning the hug. "I'm retired now, and simply a member of the family, so I'm told." "Okay, but call me Becky, then, or at least Rebecca," she replied, smiling up at him. She hadn't seen Jordan in many years, but he seemed the same as ever, crisp and dignified. She turned to Nanu and gestured for her to come closer. "Nanu, come here and say hello, this man is named Jordan." "Jor-dah," the tiny girl repeated as she walked right up to Jordan and hugged him, just as she'd seen her Mistress do. "Oh, hello," Jordan said, somewhat surprised by the greeting, but adapting to it readily. Theresa, who was standing nearby, couldn't resist letting out an 'Awe!' sound at the sight. "It's very nice to meet you, young lady." "Sorry, she doesn't speak English, we communicate in Latin," Becky explained as Nanu finally finished the hug. She helped Jordan sit while Nanu returned to her seat and continued showing the brisket who was in charge. "I admit, my conversational Latin is about as rusty as my joints, but I'll endeavor to make myself understood," Jordan said while Theresa served him some tea. They discussed Nanu's phony background for some time, with other staff members occasionally coming in and out. Nanu seemed very taken with Val's tits, and made no bones about it. Val giggled as Nanu bent over in her chair and tried to look up her skirt. Nanu seemed to have finally been sated when Tatyana came back into the room, smiling. "Your hosts are finally out of their meeting now and ready to receive you, Miss Fischer. If you would both please follow me;” Becky thanked Theresa for the food (Nanu hugged her), and then excused herself from Jordan before following Tatyana out of the informal dining room. They went back through the long halls, arriving at the grand foyer again. Tatyana then took them up the stairs. Nanu only tripped twice, because she was so busy Uhking at everything around her. Up to the third floor they went, and Tatyana led them toward a lounge. The seneschal stopped outside the room and nodded her head. "If you have any needs, Mr. and Mrs. DeBourne will make sure we see to them. It's been a pleasure, Miss Fischer." Becky nodded and watched as Tatyana turned and left. She took another deep breath and then took hold of the doorknob, opening the door and walking in, gesturing for Nanu to wait in the hall for a moment. The Egyptian girl nodded and stood still. "Rebecca Nightingale Fischer!" chimed a heavenly voice, making Becky squeal with delight. She trotted up and threw herself into the bronze-haired beauty's embrace, laughing in relief. How she'd missed these hugs. "It is so good to see you again, my dear!" "It's so good to see you both as well," Becky breathed, feeling her eyes sting at the sight of the two people who'd had more of an influence on her than anyone else in her life, her parents included. Karen DeBourne's hypnotic golden eyes shone with happiness. Next to her towered her husband, his electric blue eyes holding her spellbound. He cast a shadow over her, because he was so tall and so muscular. "I left Nanu in the hallway for a sec, just in case I started crying. May I get her?" The huge blond man nodded. Becky went back to the door and gestured for Nanu to come in, her smile a reassuring one. Nanu took her hand and came into the room, looking around, but a split second later, she dropped to her knees, her hands pressed to the floor and her head hung. She was almost shaking and they could hear her gasping and mumbling. "Nanu?" Becky said, very confused by the reaction. She got it; meeting The DeBournes for the first time, especially Michael DeBourne, could be intimidating, since he was almost seven feet tall and solid muscle. But this was a rather extreme reaction, and Becky hadn't expected it. "Nanu, are you okay?" Nanu kept mumbling, but she was trembling almost violently, refusing to look up. "You're speaking to her in Latin," the tall, bronze-haired woman said. Becky nodded. "She doesn't speak English, and I don't speak her native tongue, but she speaks Latin, so that's how we communicate," she said, still not at all sure what was going on. Was Nanu that frightened? "You said she's Egyptian, yes?" Karen asked. Becky nodded. Karen stepped forward slightly and then spoke. "Nanu, alraja' alwuquf." The tiny girl didn't comply with the request to stand, just trembling harder and still mumbling. "Well, she doesn't speak Arabic," Karen mused, her finger under her chin. Becky seemed at a loss, which did not go unnoticed by her hosts. She looked up at her husband. "Not Arabic." Mike nodded and took over, his voice deep and commanding. "Nanu, I want you to stand up." At hearing her native Coptic tongue, Nanu paused in her mumbling, going silent. She even stopped trembling. Slowly, very slowly, she pushed herself off her hands, getting to her knees and then rising to her feet. She resolutely kept her head down, though, looking at the floor. "Look up at us, Nanu," the huge man said. Nanu slowly lifted her head, and her light hazel eyes were brittle with fear, but also sheer awe. Her vision was filled with the sight of these two unfathomably tall and beautiful beings, the likes of which she had never conceived of. Even her Mistress was downright plain compared to them. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. "So we need to speak Coptic to her and not Arabic," Karen concluded, observing the girl. "She must be from a very remote part of Egypt indeed." "Oh my God," Becky groaned in exasperation, looking at the ceiling and almost stomping her foot. "Am I the only person I know who doesn't speak this dead language?" Karen looked up at her husband. "Coptic, and not liturgically, and Latin. Rather odd, I daresay." She looked at Becky now. "That must be taxing for you both, needing to speak in Latin to make it in an English world." "You don't know the half of it, Lady Prof," Becky admitted. "I've never seen her react like that before, and she terrified of almost anything she can't eat." Karen now stepped directly in front of Nanu, knelt and took the tiny girl's hands in hers. Nanu's eyes snapped wide open at the contact, her pupils shrinking in little more than pinholes. "Nanu," Karen said softly, smiling as she spoke in Coptic. "Welcome to our home. I am so happy that you are here." Nanu heard Becky call out in panic while her eyes rolled up into her head and she crumpled to the floor. A few minutes later. "Well, you weren't kidding about the extreme reaction to things," Mike mused as he and Becky watched while Karen was sitting on the long chesterfield with Nanu lying on her, the Egyptian girl's head in her lap. She hadn't quite come to yet, and Karen was stroking her hair gently. "Any idea what that was about?" Becky was somewhat reticent to answer, since she wasn't even sure what to say. She finally decided that she needed to be honest. "I; well, this is going to sound ridic, but I think she thinks you're gods." Karen looked up from the couch, one of her eyebrows raised. "You're right, Rebecca, that does indeed sound 'ridic'. What impossibly remote corner of Egypt could she possibly come from where polytheistic beliefs still hold sway?" "It's; hard and weird to explain," Becky confessed rather lamely. At that moment, Valentina came in, and she was holding a small silver tray with an array of food on it. She handed it to Mike, curtsied, and exited the room. The huge man brought the tray to his wife, who examined the contents for a moment before picking up a rolled-up piece of Theresa's homemade bologna. She held it under Nanu's nose. "Even better than smelling salts," Becky muttered as she heard Nanu sniff something, and even before she'd opened her eyes, she leaned forward enough to take the proffered meat in her mouth. "Ba-lo;” she said somewhat dazedly, chewing away. Becky and Mike watched as Nanu ate the bologna while Karen just stroked her hair. It was some moments before Nanu looked up and realized where she was, scrambling off her host's lap, and prostrating herself on the floor, trembling and mumbling again. Karen and Mike looked at one another while Becky sighed and bent down to gently haul Nanu to her feet. She still wouldn't look at them, though. "We didn't mean to interrupt, Rebecca, please resume," Mike said. "Why does she think we're gods?" Here we go. "Well, she's never seen anyone quite like either of you, physically," Becky began. "And where she's from, there's' She felt a little tickle in her throat and she coughed rather harshly. "Are you quite all right, darling?" the gorgeous matriarch asked, curious. "Sorry," Becky rasped, waving it off. "I felt the tickle earlier in my throat when I was drinking coffee. Your chef Theresa put chicory in it, didn't she?" "She's been known to, yes," Karen confirmed, nodding. "Do you have an allergy?" "A very mild reaction, but sometimes it can flare up," the blonde said, puzzled. "Anyway, I' She paused to take another breath, her throat was still scratchy. The more she wanted to say something, the more she felt the itch. What on earth? "Could I; possibly borrow a piece of paper and a writing implement?" she asked. Karen walked over to a small credenza in the corner and returned with a small steno pad and pencil. Nanu was still staring at the two terrifying and wondrous beings, her mouth dry and her eyes rather wet. Karen handed the paper and pencil to Becky, who tried to write something. The tip of the pencil broke off. Karen tilted her head for a moment and then returned to her desk, coming back with a fountain pen, offering it to her guest. Becky pressed it to the paper, but the ink just spilled out of the tip, flooding the small square of paper. "Goodness," Karen said, quickly ducking low and putting another, larger page of paper she'd brought back under the steno pad, catching any ink that rolled off and threatened to stain her priceless rug. "Michael, perchance can Rebecca use your Rubus? I left mine back in the office." The giant man pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and handed it to Becky, having unlocked it. Karen had already carefully taken the steno pad and fountain pen from her guest, walking them over to a small waste basket to safely dispose of them. Becky intended to use the text or document function to explain herself, but Mike's device winked out. "I think the battery just died," she said, handing it back to him. "Entirely." "What did I tell your father about having these batteries made in Guangzhou?" Mike asked as he looked down at his wife while putting the Rubus back in his pocket. "They skimp on the lithium, meaning the wiring degrades at least fifty percent more quickly." "Duly noted, your lordship," Karen sighed, shaking her head. "Yet another thing to bring up to the board at the next meeting. New batteries from elsewhere will mean tweaking the programming. That will cause some grumbling. I'm sorry, Rebecca, you were saying?" Becky seemed somewhat irked. She walked over to one of the window looking out over the back lot and leaned in, breathing on it. She'd try to write it there. Surely condensation would be her friend? "Those windows are thermochromic, my dear," Karen mentioned, still watching. "Not only are they slightly warm, but they have a coating on them that prevents condensation buildup, generally." "Nanu?" Becky called, snapping the smaller girl out of her trance. Nanu glanced at her Mistress and Becky beckoned her over with a finger. The blonde down and whispered in her ear. "Nanu, please tell them that you are from Imperial Rome." "No," Nanu whispered back, shaking her head and sounding very nervous. "They won't believe me, and they'll punish me. Please, Mistress, don't make me do it;” "Rebecca," Mike called over, his deep voice commanding but also kind and reassuring. "There's no need, just come back over here, please." Becky stood up and returned to stand with her professors again, holding Nanu's hand. The Egyptian girl had gone back to averting her gaze, looking at the floor. They both just stood there, as if letting school headmasters assess them. "She can't tell us," Karen mused aloud, but obviously talking to her husband. "It almost defies Bohm Interpretation." Becky had heard the term, but had no idea what it meant in this context. They weren't talking to her in any event. She just listened and waited. "The harder she tries, the more it hurts, and any attempt is stymied," Mike agreed. "Things that seem completely coincidental are all entangled. Who knew about the chicory?" "And we happened to be in the lounge where we installed some of the first thermochromic windows," Karen added. "No chance for condensation and finger-writing." She looked back at the waste basked. "Damn, I really liked that pen, too." Holy shit, Becky thought, almost shuddering at a realization. Am I encountering time lock? I'm not allowed to tell them? Will the fucking universe kill me before it lets me? There was something so inherently unfair about this in her eyes. Not that she couldn't tell them, but the fact that Mike and Karen DeBourne, two of the most amazing people and gifted physicists walking the planet, were not meant to know about her time traveling. The two people she desperately wanted to share this with more than anything, and it wasn't meant to be. When she looked up at them, she felt a stinging in her eyes. "I'm; I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "Will you hate me if I ask you to stop inquiring about Nanu and myself?" She sighed in relief as Karen stepped forward and pulled her into a warm embrace. She may have been disappointed, but at least she could stop trying, for now. Nanu looked up when she felt the movement, seeing her Mistress being hugged. Her eyes went wider than dinner plates when she saw the goddess with the golden eyes take her Mistress' face in her hands and then kiss her, deeply. The giant god with the golden hair and the eyes the color of the sea reached down and kept her from falling on her ass as the strength left her legs. She goggled up at him, stunned beyond speech as he smiled down at her. Slowly, Nanu turned her head to look over at her Mistress again, who was still kissing the tall, bronze-haired goddess. It was no chaste or even reverent kiss, it was; lewd, it was. Becky groaned as Karen's tongue began to tangle with hers. Nanu gasped in utter shock. Was her Mistress tongue-fucking the goddess? Nanu let out an unintelligible sound of confusion, and this caused Karen and Becky to finally break the kiss. Still holding one another, they looked over and down at her, smiling warmly. "She seems overwhelmed," Karen mused. "She's never seen anyone kiss a goddess before," Becky said, smirking. "Not even me. That sure got her attention. I give it three seconds before her competitive jealousy kicks in." "Well, it won't do to have jealous guests in my house," Karen chimed, her voice music in Nanu's ears. The Egyptian girl had heard those lovely tones once before, during a conversation over her Mistress' magic talking box a few days ago. Mistress had been speaking to the goddess! The god and goddess were Mistress' teachers she was referring to! "And here we go again," Becky sighed as Nanu wilted in Mike's arms, seeming to faint for a second time. And probably not the last time today. A little bit later. Nanu was sitting on the giant bed, in the giant room, looking around. She seemed to have not noticed that she was completely naked, as was Becky, who had just finished undressing. The room was unlike anything she had ever seen or even conceived of. "The gods sleep in here?" she asked in a tiny voice. There we have it, Becky realized. She really does believe they're gods. Then again, I was the tallest woman she'd ever seen before she met Karen. And Mike, well; what do I do about it? Do I try to persuade her that they're not gods? That could take forever, and she'll fight it. I can't encourage it, so maybe just leave it and let her work it out for herself? Working things out for herself seemed to be Nanu's MO, so that what Becky decided on. She finally nodded. "They sleep here, yes." "You were kissing the goddess," Nanu breathed, looking at Becky in wonder. "She was kissing you. Mistress, have you; have you fucked these gods before?" Becky just nodded again. Nanu thought about that, her eyes roaming over the expansive floor in front of her, and then at her own naked body. "And I; do these gods intend to fuck me?" This brought a smile to Becky's lovely face. "If that is what you desire, my love. I told you several times this past week, we came to have fun with my teachers, and having sex with them was actually what I meant." "Your teachers are the gods themselves," Nanu murmured. "Are all teachers gods in your world?" "Not even close," Becky said, shaking her head. "But nobody had a bigger influence on my life and who I became than these two." "Well of course, they're gods," reasoned the Egyptian girl, almost frowning because she felt strange explaining the perfectly obvious to her Mistress. "What; what happens if I fuck these gods?" "Well, you cum, probably harder than you ever have in your life," Becky replied. "What did you expect to happen?" "I won't become a god myself?" Nanu asked. "I haven't yet." "What if I let the sun god cum in me?" pressed the former slave-girl. "Will I have a demigod childlike Hercules, who the Romans worshipped?" Becky just laughed and pulled Nanu to her feet. The smaller girl seemed justifiably hesitant, but Becky led her over to the large door off to one side of the room and into an enormous and sumptuous bathing chamber. Nanu's eyes were everywhere, trying to take it all in, but she stopped dead upon seeing who awaited them. It was the gods, and they were also naked. The goddess, the one her Mistress referred to as 'Karen', was a glorious sight to behold. She was even taller than Mistress, and her tits were larger, standing proudly on her chest. They were each as large or larger than Nanu's head. Her body was flawless, with a single strip of trimmed coppery hair crowning the mound just over her cunt. She had the same long dancer's legs that Nanu did. Her golden eyes were intimidating and at the same time very welcoming. Whoever she was looking at just had to choose which was applicable to them. Nanu trembled almost in fear at the sight of the god, though. He was immeasurably tall to her, she barely reached his chest. He was more powerfully built than any man or even statue she'd ever laid eyes on, with muscles bulging everywhere. He had a small waist under his huge torso, and his cock was frighteningly large, even though it was soft. The muscles of his legs were bigger around than Nanu's chest. Had her Mistress really fucked that god? Had she really fucked that cock? His eyes were the color of a fearsome sea, but they were looking at her now with a kind expression she found strangely comforting in one who must have been a god of war and conquest, not just a sun god. "Has Nanu experienced a hot tub yet?" Karen asked, smiling pleasantly. "Nope," Becky replied, shaking her head. "Not on my watch, anyway. I don't think they had the ability or technology where she comes from." "Be frank about this next question, Rebecca," the goddess continued, gesturing to the large tub set into the floor. "Will she want to participate in our planned debauchery?" That made Becky laugh. "Trust me, Lady Prof, once she decides she's in, there'll be no stopping her. She's a complete sex fiend, it's kinda scary. Honestly, we should just dive into it, and she'll watch until she feels left out, and then insist on getting involved." "Excellent," Karen said as she let her husband escort her into the tub. "Shall I see to Nanu while you give my husband his due greeting?" "Never thought you'd ask, Lady Prof," Becky breathed, heading to the tub and clambering in. She had Nanu by the hand, but the smaller girl seemed hesitant. Becky released her and went to Mike, slipping into his titan arms. Karen, meanwhile stood in front of Nanu, smiling at her. "Come, Nanu," the goddess said in Latin, holding out her arms. "Come to me." Trembling but unable to disobey, Nanu stepped forward and put her hands in the goddess'. She allowed herself to be led down into the humming, churning water, her eyes still fixed on Karen's. Whereas the water reached Karen's waist, it was almost up to Nanu's tits when she was standing in the center. She felt the warm water bubbling around her, and it would have fascinated her if she hadn't been held by the gaze of the goddess. "Do you want me to kiss you?" Karen asked. Nanu nodded almost imperceptibly, her heart thundering in her chest. Karen pulled her close, until their tits were squashed together. Nanu's eyes went wide as the goddess pressed her soft lips to hers, kissing her deeply. Nanu's eyes closed now, and she slowly brought her hands up to embrace the deity. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before, even with her Mistress. Her mind just melted away. She felt her tongue tangling with the goddess', and realized she was actively kissing Karen back. Mistress had already told her that they'd come here to fuck these two, these gods, who were apparently her teachers. As much as she revered Re-be-kah, she seemed to have underestimated her still, since not everyone was allowed to fuck gods. And she was now allowed to? Nanu began to kiss back harder, surrendering to her innate desire and eagerness. She felt her tits pressing into the goddess', her nipples jabbing and scraping, getting very hard. The goddess slowly moved backward, taking Nanu with her, until she was sitting down, and pulled Nanu into her lap. Nanu rested on her thighs as they kept kissing, tongues exploring and tangling. Nanu whimpered in pleasure as Karen's hands began to roam around her body, caressing and exploring. The kiss broke long enough for them to look into one another's eyes, and Nanu was almost panting, a long string of glistening saliva drooping between their tongues. She felt the goddess' hands reach her ass, taking hold of her cheeks and squirming. Karen smiled and spoke in that enchanting voice. "Do you want to play with my tits, my dear?" Nanu nodded and leaned back just far enough to see the goddess' tits, which were larger than even Mistress'. Nanu couldn't remember ever seeing tits so big on any woman, unless they were enormously fat and floppy. This was something totally different, and Nanu was enthralled by the sight that awaited her. These divine tits were large and full, soft and firm, standing up and with dusky nipples begging to be kissed and sucked on. And Nanu would oblige. "Hmm, very nice," the goddess purred as Nanu leaned down and took one of the nipples inside her mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue around it. Karen gently clasped and cradled Nanu's head, letting her experiment. She felt the tiny girl bit and tug gently, which gave her a shiver. "You must enjoy making love to girls, yes?" she asked in Latin. Nanu just nodded, enveloped in this being's warm arms, almost feeling like she was suckling. She remembered practicing with her sister Kiya so very long ago back in dusty little Akhmim. She never could have guessed she'd be doing it now on a goddess. Her eyes opened as she heard a moan come from nearby, a moan she recognized as that of her Mistress. She looked over and stared dumbly, somehow remembering to keep suckling while watching Re-be-kah servicing the war god. Mistress was on her knees in the tub, while the god was leaning back against the edge, and she had his enormous, hard cock in her hand. She stroked the shaft while her lips were sealed around it, and she was bobbing back and forth, making an effort to push farther down its length with each movement. Nanu seized up and groaned as one of the goddess' hands glided down her body and under her ass, finding her cuntlips and stroking gently. "She looks good doing that, doesn't she, Nanu?" the goddess asked, smiling slyly. She stroked gently along her lover's nether lips, teasing her and making Nanu tremble in her lap. Nanu was having a hard time remembering to keep sucking and licking, but she somehow endured. "Would you like to try?" Nanu was whimpering, but she nodded. "Tag, DeBourne," Karen said, reaching out her hand to touch Mike's. "Nanu wants a whirl at the beast." "Do you mind, Rebecca?" the giant man asked, looking down at the woman currently pleasuring him. "Hmm, not at all, sir," Becky replied, popping her mouth off and smiling up at him, still stroking with her hand. "Don't want my jaw to get sore too early, after all." She stood and moved back, while Karen peeled Nanu off her lap. Despite expressing a desire to switch, Nanu seemed nervous, and Becky knelt in the water and took her face in her hands, smiling gently and whispering against her lips. "It's okay, my love," she said. "This is part of your new world, after all." Nanu nodded and moved over to the war god while Becky took her place, sliding into Karen's lap. Unlike Nanu, she wasn't perched on it, but managed to slip one of her legs back behind Karen's ass, and soon their pussies were pressed together while they embraced one another. They smiled before resuming the kiss they'd shared in the study, but even more deep and passionate now. "Hmm, God, I've missed this," Becky mumbled, her tongue dancing wetly with Karen's. Their tits squashed, and they squirmed against each other, reconnecting. It had been too long since they'd made love. The last time they'd been able to meet up had simply been in a café, no chance to get naughty there. "We have too," Karen replied, exploring Becky's mouth. They remembered what the other liked, and their rhythm fell easily into place. "And you need to promise to visit more often, my love." "We will," Becky said, her heart fluttering. These two had meant so much to her. They'd first met her when she was simply a precocious teenager in high school, attending an institution they were considering sending their son to once he had left his Montessori. They'd been impressed by her grasp of science and had sponsored her readily, leading to many opportunities she might never have had, no matter how much her grades might have earned them. She even studied abroad for a few summers on their dime, going to Stanford, Oxford, and Lucerne. And then they'd made sure that she had a place at the university, and got into all the Science classes she desired. She had always had the biggest crush on them both, and by now she thought she was madly in love with them. She became their lover, even while they were her instructors. They opened her eyes to so many things. And they'd inspired her. She knew she wanted to teach young minds, to give those young people the same passion and opportunities she'd been given. Once she had her degree that allowed her to teach, she took a job at a local high school, and the place was happy to have her as their principal science teacher. It turned out to not be as much fun as she had anticipated, with teenage students proving boring and reticent. Some years of this had made her feel worn down. If it hadn't been for Mark and his Holmes Field Device these past few weeks, she might have simply droned on, feeling the passion for teaching fizzle out of her. And now she found herself back here, with Nanu, and everything seemed wonderful again. She pulled Karen tighter into her embrace, kissed her harder, and felt their cuntlips mingling and slithering beneath the foaming water. "Hmm, your breath still smells like roses," Becky panted as they made out and made love. "Those rose pastilles are so wonderful. Please let me lick you, please;” Karen nodded and they broke the kiss, with Becky sidling backward off her lap and getting on her knees. Karen now leaned back, resting her amazing ass on the edge and spreading her legs wide enough for Becky to kneel between them. She gazed in quiet delight at her professor's cunt, so wet and inviting, shaved completely smooth except for the tightly trimmed strip above, the lips perfect and even. Karen DeBourne was absolutely flawless. Becky leaned in and began kissing, wasting no time in pleasuring the older woman. She kissed and lapped, shivering as she remembered this taste. A memory of her first time doing this flooded back to her, and she reveled in the scent and slick arousal of her teacher-lover. She dragged her tongue up the twat before flicking it against Karen's nub, making her tremble and sigh, one of her hands coming to rest on the back of her former student's head. Nanu was frowning now, having gotten (somewhat) over her intimidation and was trying to massage the god's massive tool. Her fingers didn't even wrap around it, and she had to use both hands in a motion together to slide up and down its length. She leaned in and pressed the tip of her tongue against the swollen head, bewildered about how her Mistress had fit the damn thing

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 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

1. Mandy gave us important context for the story of Saint Martin of Tours as she talked about the nature of the Roman army within its historical and cultural space. The Roman army was a scary, elite, and powerful arm of Imperial Rome. She went on teach about the themes of the gospel of Mark that develop around the inherent conflict between the gospel of Jesus and the gospel of Caesar. The gospel of Caesar had, at its core a message that “domination proves divinity.” In response, Mark's gospel seems to say, “you occupants of the realm of Caesar, you've heard Caesar's gospel; you've experienced Caesar's domination. Now, meet a different non-dominating king who is actually God's son.” Mark's thesis, Mandy taught, is essential that Jesus is the anti-Caesar. Where in our culture today can you identify the same threads of the message that domination proves divinity or, perhaps, superiority? Are there things that we, as a culture (or you as a human), cannot seem to avoid, and have, at least in some ways, chosen, instead, to worship? What do you think about any places you can identify in which that is or has been true? 2. In Mark 12:13-17, Mandy paraphrased the question that the Herodians & Pharisees ask of Jesus like this: “will you cower before the commanding empire, acquiescing to their perpetual demands? Will you standby while your people are unjustly policed and subjugated by soldiers on the streets? Or will you rebel, and risk the crackdown?” But, Mandy taught, Jesus doesn't answer the question because they are putting the question in the framework of Caesars kingdom. They are asking, “who dominates who?”Mandy paraphrased Jesus' response like this: “you mean the narcissist who puts his face on everything he can brand? Put Caesar back in his place. He may rule you, dominate you, tax you, steal your money through tariffs and whimsical promises; he may crucify you, but he is no god. He's just another tin-pot tyrant.”Where can you see yourself in the Herodian and the Pharisees and the question they ask? What does Jesus‘s response speak to you? What is it? You can learn from examining this exchange in context?3. Below are several important quotes from the end of Mandy's sermon. For this final question, please review each of them one-by-one, and then discuss them. You can ask these equations about each: What do these words bring up for you? How do they make you feel? Where do you find resistance within yourself? Where do you find hope? What else is there to find underneath the layers? What questions are you left with?“Jesus‘s point is that yes, we are all hopelessly enmeshed in the kingdoms of this world. We will be taxed, commodified, conscripted, and colonized. Cesar may have his cross, his whip, his sword, and his taxation, Cesar has no claim on me. The me that is God‘s image does not cower before these implements of war and weapons of desecration. They may hurt my flesh, but they chip and shatter on the indestructible image of God within me.” “Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do when we have no political power is to live by a set of values and principles that exposes the lie of the empire.” “There is no more countercultural value system than love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control.”

Who is Mithras, and what were the Mythraic Mysteries practiced thousands of years ago? How was the cult organized? What role did Orphic metaphysics and architecture play in communicating its mysteries? Peter Mark Adams - author, poet and essayist specialising in the ethnography and visuality of ritual, sacred landscape, esotericism, consciousness and healing - shares about his latest tome: Ritual & Epiphany in the Mysteries of Mithras. The Secret Cult of Saturn in Imperial Rome, answers your Patreon supporter questions and more!⇓ ⇓ ⇓►⚡Get ‘Ritual & Epiphany' now: https://theionpublishing.com/shop/pma-ritualepiphany/ ►✅Peter's website: - https://petermarkadams.com/ ✦

Met prof. dr. Jürgen Zangenberg en dr. Renske Janssen van de Universiteit Leiden kijken we naar sporen van antiek Jodendom in Rome. Jürgen en Renske gaven afgelopen voorjaar de interessante cursus 'Jews, Christians and Mithraists. Urban Traces and Traditions of three “Oriental” Religions in Imperial Rome' aan het KNIR in Rome. Tijdens die cursus gingen ze in Rome en Ostia op zoek naar sporen uit het verre verleden en in die zoektocht nemen ze ons in deze special mee!Kijk hier voor meer informatie over het KNIR (Koninklijk Nederlands Instituut Rome).Shownotes

> Let op: in deze aflevering bespreken we thema's als kolonialisme en racisme.Waar hebben we het precies over als we spreken over "Oriëntale" religie? Waarom staat dat begrip, "Oriëntale" of "Oriëntaals", eigenlijk altijd tussen aanhalingstekens? Hoe zien we dat fenomeen terug in het oude Rome? Prof. dr. Jürgen Zangenberg en dr. Renske Janssen van de Universiteit Leiden gaven afgelopen voorjaar de interessante cursus 'Jews, Christians and Mithraists. Urban Traces and Traditions of three “Oriental” Religions in Imperial Rome' aan het KNIR in Rome. Over die cursus en over de discussie over wat "Oriëntaals" is praten ze ons in deze Zomerspecial - de eerste van een tweeluik over deze cursus - uitgebreid bij!Kijk hier voor meer informatie over het KNIR (Koninklijk Nederlands Instituut Rome).Shownotes

Send us a textIn this episode, I'm joined once again by author and esoteric scholar Peter Mark Adams, whose newest work - Ritual and Epiphany in the Mysteries of Mithras: The Secret Cult of Saturn in Imperial Rome - offers a profound look into one of the most enigmatic mystery traditions of the ancient world.We explore the sacred cosmology of Mithras, the structure and symbolism of the cult's initiatory grades, and how these rites relate to the broader lineage of Orphic and Platonic spirituality. Along the way, we discuss ritual space, visionary experiences, and how these ancient practices can inform and aid seekers and practitioners today.Please note: Later in the episode, we also touch on topics such as entheogens, intense ritual work, and transformational spiritual practices. Neither Peter nor I are medical professionals, nor do we endorse any illegal activities, and all listeners should thoroughly research and approach these topics with caution, and seek the advice of licensed experts.---Find out more about Peter Mark Adams:Peter's Website: https://petermarkadams.com Purchase "Ritual and Epiphany in the Mysteries of Mithras": https://theionpublishing.com/shop/pmaJoin Peter in Turin, Aug. 31 - Sept. 3rd, 2025: Sola-Busca - HOUSE OF ZOPHIEL ---Connect with Coffee & Divination:Find us on Instagram:  @coffeeanddivination Our Website: [www.coffeeanddivination.com] (http://www.coffeeanddivination.com)Theme music: "Come with Me" by JoAnna Farrer, featuring Alasdair Fraser, Natalie Haas, and Yann Falquet - JoAnna Farrer - Come With Me (Official Lyric Video)Ending music: "Pollen Path" by Elana Low.If you enjoyed this episode, please share, subscribe, or leave a review - it helps more people discover the show!

LAST OF CAESAR'S LINE: 5/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author)

LAST OF CAESAR'S LINE: 8/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome.

LAST OF CAESAR'S LINE: 7/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author)

LAST OF CAESAR'S LINE: 6/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author)

LAST OF CAESAR'S LINE: 3/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author)

LAST OF CAESAR'S LINE: 4/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author)

LAST OF CAESAR'S LINE: 2/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author)

LAST OF CAESAR'S LINE: 1/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author)

Imperial Rome collides with the Cthulhu Mythos in The Sword of Spartacus by Richard L. Tierney!

The Author Events Series presents Paul Muldoon  | Joy in Service on Rue Tagore: Poems  REGISTER In Conversation with Daisy Fried  Since his 1973 debut, New Weather, Paul Muldoon has created some of the most original and memorable poetry of the past half century. Joy in Service on Rue Tagore sees him writing with the same verve and distinction that have consistently won him the highest accolades. Here, from artichokes to zinc, Muldoon navigates an alphabet of image and history, through barleymen and Irish slavers to the last running wolf in Ulster. The search involves the accumulated bric-a-brac of a life, and a reckoning along the way of gains against loss. In the poet's skillful hands, ancient maps are unfurled and brought into focus--the aggregation of Imperial Rome and the dismantling of Standard Oil, the pogroms of a Ukrainian ravine and of a Belfast shipyard. Through modern medicine and warfare, disaster and repair, these poems are electric in their energy, while profoundly humane in their line of inquiry. Paul Muldoon was born in County Armagh in 1951. He now lives in New York. A former radio and television producer for the BBC in Belfast, he has taught at Princeton University for thirty-five years. He is the author of fourteen previous collections of poetry, including Moy Sand and Gravel, for which he won the 2003 Pulitzer Prize. Daisy Fried is the author of five books of poetry: My Destination (forthcoming next year from Flood Editions and Carcanet Press), The Year the City Emptied, Women's Poetry: Poems and Advice, My Brother is Getting Arrested Again, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle, and She Didn't Mean to Do It. She has been awarded Guggenheim, Hodder and Pew Fellowships. A core faculty member in the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College, and an occasional poetry critic for the New York Times, Poetry Foundation and elsewhere, she has lived in Philadelphia for decades, but will be moving to San Francisco at the end of the summer.  The 2024/25 Author Events Series is presented by Comcast. Because you love Author Events, please make a donation when you register for this event to ensure that this series continues to inspire Philadelphians. Books will be available for purchase at the library on event night! All tickets are non-refundable. (recorded 5/14/2025)

In this episode, I welcome back author and scholar Peter Mark Adams for a rich and far-reaching conversation centred on his upcoming book from Theion Publishing "Ritual & Epiphany in the Mysteries of Mithras – The Secret Cult of Saturn in Imperial Rome" an extraordinary and deeply thoughtful study of the cult of Mithras. Peter takes us through the ancient layers beneath Mithraic practice — its origins, iconography, cosmology, and initiatory structure — tracing a lineage from early Mesopotamian myths such as the Epic of Gilgamesh, through the cultic worship of Saturn, and into the esoteric heart of Imperial Rome. What emerges from his research is a profound view of Mithraism not simply as a Roman mystery cult, but as the survival of a much older, animistic, star-oriented cosmology. It is a vision of reality structured around spirit, fate, celestial forces, and the metamorphosis of the human soul.Peter takes us through the complex ideas behind his thesis weaving in insights from recent advances in anthropology, ethnography, and comparative religion. He draws particularly from the Orphic mysteries to illuminate the metaphysical architecture underpinning the Mithraic rites. We unpack how the mysteries functioned as both a lived, embodied practice and a carefully guarded initiatic system, intended to bring about deep spiritual transformations in their adherents. The conversation explores the mythic grammar encoded in the Tauroctony — the slaying of the bull — not as a static religious image but as a dynamic, performative act tied to the movement of the heavens and the soul's journey through the stars.In the Plus show, Peter also shares fascinating insights into the seven grades of Mithraic initiation, each representing different spiritual and cosmic stations, and the curious fact that while the cult is famous for these grades, only two formal initiation rituals are known. We delve into the frescoes at St. Capua Vetere, rare depictions that provide intimate glimpses into the ritual life of Mithraic initiates, and discuss how sacred art served not merely as decoration but as an active, living technology for transformation.Along the way, we touch on the challenges faced by modern researchers and practitioners in articulating and re-contextualising these ancient experiences in a world that has largely lost the language for mystery. We talk about the difficulty of bridging the gap between ancient participatory worldviews and the post-Enlightenment skepticism that dominates contemporary thought — and how, paradoxically, the sciences of anthropology and archaeology often come closest to glimpsing the ancient mysteries, even as they struggle to fully comprehend them.Show notes:Peter's site https://petermarkadams.comPeter's instagram https://www.instagram.com/petermarkadams/Peter's Patreon https://www.patreon.com/c/petermarkadams/postsTheion Publishing https://theionpublishing.com/shop/pma-ritualepiphany/?fbclid=IwY2xjawJt5h9leHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHrcrTB0SZCnZKoBiV8ekJtAVHGQawQVzitb5lGAscZwhU94lYmX-PLrQDWW9_aem_NJX2uq5lcQtsID72NJrHJASola-Busca Workshop, Turin https://www.houseofzophiel.com/sola-busca.htmlCosmic or Orphic egg https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cosmic_eggPhanes https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PhanesTauroctony https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TauroctonySt. Capua Vetere https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Maria_Capua_VetereEpic of Gilgamesh https://www.britannica.com/topic/Epic-of-GilgameshOrphism https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/OrphismMithras https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MithraismHenosis https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HenosisLeontocephaline https://www.mdpi.com/2673-9461/2/2/3Chora https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/KhôraApogenesis https://www.iasdurham.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/03/Hannah_From-Here-to-the-Hereafter-Genesis-and-Apogenesis-in-Ancient-Philosophy-and-Architecture.pdfKeep in touch?https://linktr.ee/darraghmasonMusic by Obliqka https://soundcloud.com/obliqka

From Gladiator to Rome Total War to I, Claudius, today the Cohortēs praetōriae are one of the most distinctive military units of Imperial Rome. It was their job to protect the Roman Emperor and his household, a task for which they hold a somewhat ‘chequered' record (especially when we focus in on the Praetorian Prefects). But what do we know about this unit's origins? How did this powerful force become protectors of the Emperor and his household? What other functions did they serve? And how did they differ from the standard Roman legions in their structure?To talk through the rise of the Praetorian Guard, with a specific focus on the reigns of Augustus and Tiberius, Tristan caught up with historian Lindsay Powell at Fishbourne Roman Palace in West Sussex. Lindsay is the author of several books about the Early Roman Imperial Period. His latest book, Bar Kokhba: The Jew Who Defied Hadrian and Challenged the Might of Rome, is out now.Presented by Tristan Hughes. The producer is Joseph Knight. The senior producer is Anne-Marie Luff.The Ancients is a History Hit podcast.All music from Epidemic SoundsSign up to History Hit for hundreds of hours of original documentaries, with a new release every week and ad-free podcasts. Sign up at https://www.historyhit.com/subscribe. You can take part in our listener survey here.This episode first aired in October 2021.

En av Roms mest ökända kejsare som gått till historien som en tyrannisk primadonna, en grym, dekadent despot. För maktens och sin fåfängas skull var han beredd att offra vad som helst: sin stad och till och med sin egen mor. Nya avsnitt från P3 Historia hittar du först i Sveriges Radio Play. Redaktionen för detta avsnitt består av:Cecilia Düringer – programledare och manusEmilia Mellberg – producent, research och manus Zardasht Rad – scenuppläsareViktor Bergdahl – ljuddesign och slutmixMedverkar gör också Ida Östenberg professor i antikens kultur- och samhällsliv vid Göteborgs universitetVill du veta mer om kejsar Nero? Här är några av böckerna som legat till grund för avsnittet: Roms kejsare av Mary BeardKejsarbiografier av Suetonius Nero – the end of a dynasty av Miriam T. Griffin Nero – Matricide, Music and Murder in Imperial Rome av Anthony Everitt och Roddy AshworthRome is burning – Nero and the fire that ended a dynasty av Anthony Barrett

Many people will have visited or been visited by their adult children over the holidays. Being a parent to adult children, as well as being the adult child, can be complicated. What are the pitfalls? How can we ensure that relationship stays strong? Clare McDonnell is joined by psychotherapist Dr Julia Samuel and actor and author Helen Lederer to discuss.‘Unfortunately, she was a Nymphomaniac' – that's the title of a new book written to debunk the misogynist myths of Imperial Rome and to put the record straight about the lives and fates of Roman women. Its author, the journalist Joan Smith, joins Clare to give us a fresh perspective on the ancient world.New Dolly Parton musical Here You Come Again is packed with the biggest and most rhinestoned hits from the country legend, and is currently playing at the Riverside Studios in London before it heads on tour across the UK next month. Actress Tricia Paoluccio joins Clare to discuss what it's like becoming Dolly in the show – and gives a special live performance in the studio. Presenter: Clare McDonnell Producer: Lottie Garton

Melvyn Bragg and guests discuss the author of 'I, Claudius' who was also one of the finest poets of the twentieth century. Robert Graves (1895 -1985) placed his poetry far above his prose. He once declared that from the age of 15 poetry had been his ruling passion and that he lived his life according to poetic principles, writing in prose only to pay the bills and that he bred the pedigree dogs of his prose to feed the cats of his poetry. Yet it's for his prose that he's most famous today, including 'I Claudius', his brilliant account of the debauchery of Imperial Rome, and 'Goodbye to All That', the unforgettable memoir of his early life including the time during the First World War when he was so badly wounded at the Somme that The Times listed him as dead. WithPaul O'Prey Emeritus Professor of Modern Literature at the University of Roehampton, LondonFran Brearton Professor of Modern Poetry at Queen's University, BelfastAndBob Davis Professor of Religious and Cultural Education at the University of GlasgowProducer: Simon TillotsonRobert Graves (ed. Paul O'Prey), In Broken Images: Selected Letters of Robert Graves 1914-1946 (Hutchinson, 1982)Robert Graves (ed. Paul O'Prey), Between Moon and Moon: Selected letters of Robert Graves 1946-1972 (Hutchinson, 1984)Robert Graves (ed. Beryl Graves and Dunstan Ward), The Complete Poems (Penguin Modern Classics, 2003)Robert Graves, I, Claudius (republished by Penguin, 2006)Robert Graves, King Jesus (republished by Penguin, 2011)Robert Graves, The White Goddess (republished by Faber, 1999)Robert Graves, The Greek Myths (republished by Penguin, 2017)Robert Graves (ed. Michael Longley), Selected Poems (Faber, 2013)Robert Graves (ed. Fran Brearton, intro. Andrew Motion), Goodbye to All That: An Autobiography: The Original Edition (first published 1929; Penguin Classics, 2014)William Graves, Wild Olives: Life in Majorca with Robert Graves (Pimlico, 2001)Richard Perceval Graves, Robert Graves: The Assault Heroic, 1895-1926 (Macmillan, 1986, vol. 1 of the biography)Richard Perceval Graves, Robert Graves: The Years with Laura, 1926-1940 (Viking, 1990, vol. 2 of the biography)Richard Perceval Graves, Robert Graves and the White Goddess, 1940-1985 (Orion, 1995, vol. 3 of the biography)Miranda Seymour: Robert Graves: Life on the Edge (Henry Holt & Co, 1995)In Our Time is a BBC Studios Audio Production

Melvyn Bragg and guests discuss the author of 'I, Claudius' who was also one of the finest poets of the twentieth century. Robert Graves (1895 -1985) placed his poetry far above his prose. He once declared that from the age of 15 poetry had been his ruling passion and that he lived his life according to poetic principles, writing in prose only to pay the bills and that he bred the pedigree dogs of his prose to feed the cats of his poetry. Yet it's for his prose that he's most famous today, including 'I Claudius', his brilliant account of the debauchery of Imperial Rome, and 'Goodbye to All That', the unforgettable memoir of his early life including the time during the First World War when he was so badly wounded at the Somme that The Times listed him as dead. WithPaul O'Prey Emeritus Professor of Modern Literature at the University of Roehampton, LondonFran Brearton Professor of Modern Poetry at Queen's University, BelfastAndBob Davis Professor of Religious and Cultural Education at the University of GlasgowProducer: Simon TillotsonRobert Graves (ed. Paul O'Prey), In Broken Images: Selected Letters of Robert Graves 1914-1946 (Hutchinson, 1982)Robert Graves (ed. Paul O'Prey), Between Moon and Moon: Selected letters of Robert Graves 1946-1972 (Hutchinson, 1984)Robert Graves (ed. Beryl Graves and Dunstan Ward), The Complete Poems (Penguin Modern Classics, 2003)Robert Graves, I, Claudius (republished by Penguin, 2006)Robert Graves, King Jesus (republished by Penguin, 2011)Robert Graves, The White Goddess (republished by Faber, 1999)Robert Graves, The Greek Myths (republished by Penguin, 2017)Robert Graves (ed. Michael Longley), Selected Poems (Faber, 2013)Robert Graves (ed. Fran Brearton, intro. Andrew Motion), Goodbye to All That: An Autobiography: The Original Edition (first published 1929; Penguin Classics, 2014)William Graves, Wild Olives: Life in Majorca with Robert Graves (Pimlico, 2001)Richard Perceval Graves, Robert Graves: The Assault Heroic, 1895-1926 (Macmillan, 1986, vol. 1 of the biography)Richard Perceval Graves, Robert Graves: The Years with Laura, 1926-1940 (Viking, 1990, vol. 2 of the biography)Richard Perceval Graves, Robert Graves and the White Goddess, 1940-1985 (Orion, 1995, vol. 3 of the biography)Miranda Seymour: Robert Graves: Life on the Edge (Henry Holt & Co, 1995)In Our Time is a BBC Studios Audio Production

EMPEROR AGRIPPINA THE YOUNGER WAS THE DREAM:  2/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1790

EMPEROR AGRIPPINA THE YOUNGER WAS THE DREAM:  3/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1876 Nero

EMPEROR AGRIPPINA THE YOUNGER WAS THE DREAM:  4/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1880 Nero

EMPEROR AGRIPPINA THE YOUNGER WAS THE DREAM:  5/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1922 Nero

EMPEROR AGRIPPINA THE YOUNGER WAS THE DREAM:  6/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1850 murdering Agrippina

EMPEROR AGRIPPINA THE YOUNGER WAS THE DREAM:  7/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1900 Missing Agrippina

EMPEROR AGRIPPINA THE YOUNGER WAS THE DREAM:  8/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1888 Nero suicide

EMPEROR AGRIPPINA THE YOUNGER WAS THE DREAM:  1/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1799 Agrippina the Younger

Across the vast expanse of the Roman Empire, anxieties about childbirth tied individuals to one another, to the highest levels of imperial politics, even to the movements of the stars. Birthing Romans: Childbearing and Its Risks in Imperial Rome (Princeton UP, 2024) sheds critical light on the diverse ways pregnancy and childbirth were understood, experienced, and managed in ancient Rome during the first three centuries of the Common Era. In this beautifully written book, Anna Bonnell Freidin asks how inhabitants of the Roman Empire—especially women and girls—understood their bodies and constructed communities of care to mitigate and make sense of the risks of pregnancy and childbirth. Drawing on medical texts, legal documents, poetry, amulets, funerary art, and more, she shows how these communities were deeply human yet never just human. Freidin demonstrates how patients and caregivers took their place alongside divine and material agencies to guard against the risks inherent to childbearing. She vividly illustrates how these efforts and vital networks offer a new window onto Romans' anxieties about order, hierarchy, and the individual's place in the empire and cosmos. Unearthing a risky world that is both familiar and not our own, Birthing Romans reveals how mistakes, misfortunes, and interventions in childbearing were seen to have far-reaching consequences, reverberating across generations and altering the course of people's lives, their family histories, and even the fate of an empire. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

TWO THOUSAND YEARS OF ACTORS AND EMPIRES: 3/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1899 ROME

TWO THOUSAND YEARS OF ACTORS AND EMPIRES: 6/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1900 ROME

TWO THOUSAND YEARS OF ACTORS AND EMPIRES: 8/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1850 ROME

TWO THOUSAND YEARS OF ACTORS AND EMPIRES: 7/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1759 ROME

TWO THOUSAND YEARS OF ACTORS AND EMPIRES: 1/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1900 ROME

TWO THOUSAND YEARS OF ACTORS AND EMPIRES: 5/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1778 ROME

TWO THOUSAND YEARS OF ACTORS AND EMPIRES: 4/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1656 ROME

TWO THOUSAND YEARS OF ACTORS AND EMPIRES: 2/8:: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1838 ROME

 A ROMAN IRON AGE EMPEROR FAILS ON THE GREEK BRONZE AGE STAGE. 4/8: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1658 ROMAN CAVALRY

 A ROMAN IRON AGE EMPEROR  FAILS ON THE GREEK BRONZE AGE STAGE. 6/8: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. UNDATED NEERO

 A ROMAN IRON AGE EMPEROR  ON THE GREEK BRONZE AGE STAGE. 5/8: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1718 ROME

 A ROMAN IRON AGE EMPEROR  FAILS SON THE GREEK BRONZE AGE STAGE. 7/8: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1770 COLISEUM ROME

 A ROMAN IRON AGE EMPEROR  FAILS ON THE GREEK BRONZE AGE STAGE. 3/8: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. Q650 ROMAN INFANTRY

 A ROMAN IRON AGE EMPEROR FAILS ON THE GREEK BRONZE AGE STAGE. 2/8: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1599 ROME

 A ROMAN IRON AGE EMPEROR FAILS  ON THE GREEK BRONZE AGE STAGE. 1/8: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1902

 A ROMAN IRON AGE EMPEROR  FAILS ON THE GREEK BRONZE AGE STAGE. 8/8: Nero: Matricide, Music, and Murder in Imperial Rome by  Anthony Everitt  (Author), Roddy Ashworth  (Author) https://behindtheblack.com/behind-the-black/points-of-information/sunspot-update-after-going-through-the-roof-last-month-sunspots-drop-into-the-attic-this-month/ There are many infamous stories about the Roman emperor Nero: He set fire to Rome and thrummed his lyre as it burned. Cruel, vain, and incompetent, he then cleared the charred ruins and built a vast palace. He committed incest with his mother, who had schemed and killed to place him on the throne, and later murdered her. Nero has long been the very image of a bad ruler, a legacy left behind by the historians of his day, who despised him. But there is a mystery. For a long time after his death, anonymous hands laid flowers on his grave. The monster was loved. In this nuanced biography, Anthony Everitt, the celebrated biographer of classical Greece and Rome, and investigative journalist Roddy Ashworth reveal the contradictions inherent in Nero and offer a reappraisal of his life. Contrary to popular memory, the empire was well managed during his reign. He presided over diplomatic triumphs and Rome's epic conquest of Britain and British queen Boudica's doomed revolt against Nero's legions. He was also a champion of arts and culture who loved music, and he won the loyalty of the lower classes with fantastic spectacles. He did not set fire to Rome. 1900 ROME