Podcast appearances and mentions of lady emily

Lady Annabelle & Kate Two stories from 3 centuries, about one English mansion. By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. An aristocrat has an exciting encounter with a highwayman It is the Year of Our Lord 1760, and the roads leading to and from London be the most perilous for any traveler. Hounslow Heath being a favorite haunt of the highwayman and footpad. Folly indeed, for the unwary to wander alone. And London be a very wicked place, so it hath been told, with whores, beggars and cutpurses on every street corner, The journey of Lady Emily Arundel and her daughter Annabelle had been an uneventful one so far. "And when we arrive at Mablethorpe Hall, be sure to show your appreciation to Lord Barrington-Smythe. His son, William, wishes to seek your hand in marriage," Lady Emily began. "Yes Mother," her daughter replied, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "His estate comprises over a hundred acres of land," "Well, hark at that!" "owns several horses related to Whistlejacket," Annabelle struggled to contain a sigh. "properties in the colonies," "How glorious, Mother." "knows a clutch of fashionable London society in beautiful silk suits and powdered wigs attended by almost equally well appointed valets! Whom are accompanied by gorgeous ladies in even more elaborate wigs and dresses in the latest Paris fashions," The corpulent gentleman sat opposite them in the coach was Lord Bracewell, an old and dear friend of Lady Emily. He grinned at Annabelle, sensing her discomfort. "Your Ladyship, it may please you to know, that we are but a mile from our journey's end." And thank heaven for that, Bracewell thought to himself, now feeling the great need of a chamber pot after drinking an excess of ale. He adjusted his periwig. "Erm, perhaps an opportunity at this gathering for a, f, er, you know, eh?" He gestured something and Lady Emily quickly tapped his leg with her foot. "Shush. Manners, Cuthbert! Later, perhaps," At that moment the coach lurched as it hit a particularly large pothole. This stretch of road was notoriously bad. Suddenly, the coach shuddered to an uncomfortable halt and the horses squealed. Other hooves could be heard alongside. "Stand and deliver!" "Oh dear God!" Lord Bracewell exclaimed, crossing himself. "I fear we are about to be robbed!" The masked stranger yelled at the coachman. "Throw down your weapons my bonny boy, or I'll spill your guts on the road!" There was the sound of muskets hitting the ground. Inside the coach, Lady Emily trembled and uttered a prayer. A robber might take more from a lady than her silver. Annabelle should've been as terrified as her mother, but her wildly-beating heart was more out of excitement. "Perhaps this man may be more merciful than we give him credit for?" "Hush, my dearest daughter. These bandits are without scruples! Pray to the Lord!" A bay-colored horse's head and then its rider appeared outside the window. The figure who leaned down to peer into the window appeared tall, wearing a cape, a three-cornered hat and a black handkerchief across his mouth. Dark brown eyes. "Well now, what fabulous treasure do I find?" The highwayman pointed a flintlock pistol inches from Annabelle's face. He leaned forward and with a move of his wrist he flicked back her hood with the muzzle of the pistol. "Ah. A true English Rose." "Sir, I beg of you, do not harm my daughter," Lady Emily intervened. "She is but eighteen, an innocent child, she has no silver!" "Her fortune awaits at Mablethorpe Hall no doubt. But it is she I am taking, not her money. Come." And he beckoned, the hand still held out to help Annabelle down. "Why, what foul swine would take a young lady's honor? I forbid you to lay one finger on her!" Lady Emily yelled. "Take me in her place." "No Mother, I shall do as he asks," Annabelle interrupted, taking his hand. "My child, no!" "It shall be alright Mother," Annabelle replied. "Your daughter knows her own mind, Madam," the highwayman said. "So now, I must ask you to keep thine own counsel. It would give me no pleasure to shoot your coachman and your gentleman companion." Lady Emily could do nothing but remain in the coach as the mysterious stranger led Annabelle away and into the trees at the side of the road. "Sir. If I may be so bold, may I request a merciful death?" The damsel inquired. This rather caught the highwayman off guard. This young lady intrigued him far more than the other wealthy folks he'd ambushed in the past. How the ladies had screamed like banshees and pleaded for their lives. The simpering, periwigged dandy who'd pissed his breeches when a gun was pointed at his head. Aristocrats. The damned preening lot of them! How he loathed these ruling peacocks. Oh, he hadn't always been a highwayman. Back in his old life he'd fought for king and country. Until good fortune and those he looked up to had betrayed him, He had planned to kidnap the girl and hold her to ransom. Lord Arundel's daughter would command a high price. "You are indeed bold. And, I have no wish to kill you. Your beauty and grace are extremely attractive to young men and it is bound to rouse their passions." Annabelle thought for a moment. "Since I am without silver or jewels, perhaps I could offer you a gift of a different kind? If I were to sufficiently please you, would you let my mother, Lord Bracewell, the coachman and myself go free? I'll do anything, to please you." He blinked. "Even the most unladylike of things? Do you realize what you are saying?" "Sir, I am shortly to be married. It would be most helpful if I were sufficiently skilled in how to pleasure my husband on our wedding night. I have no experience whatsoever in meddling with a man, perhaps if I could, practice somehow." Those less-than-polite urges that had been assaulting her body recently, had now found the perfect outlet. "Will you service my prick like a common whore?" "Yes sir," Annabelle replied, kneeling before him. "Let's see you try then." He kept his pistol in his right hand. "No teeth." Annabelle unbuttoned the highwayman's breeches slowly, her careful motions at odds with the look in her blue eyes and pulled out the large and swollen member. She couldn't help but stare at his impressive length, simultaneously afraid and eager. A man's weapon in all its hardened glory. A thing she'd previously glimpsed from afar, now in her hands. He expected her to hesitate, but to his surprise, she leant forward and ran her tongue up the shaft. With all haste, she opened her mouth, allowing him to move it inside. He began to thrust his cock inside her mouth, holding her head steady. Shocked at herself, Annabelle couldn't deny that as she heard him pant and moan, she felt somehow strangely empowered. She began to suck, working her tongue around his member. The highwayman cursed and blasphemed holding her head firmer as he began to thrust faster. Eventually, he grasped her blonde hair tightly as he groaned, pushing his entire length down her throat and shot his seed into her. She swallowed every drop of it, rather liking the taste. "Impressive," he panted. He'd enjoyed that a lot more than he was willing to admit, but wasn't done with this little rich girl just yet. "Have you had enough yet, Marchioness Whore?" Panting she replied, "I think not. Please." "Please?" He ran his hand under her dress and up her thigh. "Please what?" "Please sir." He fingered her tantalizing wet womanhood. "Louder, if you please." "Ah, Please sir!" He chuckled, and withdrew. She was ready to beg him, but before she could he had her up against a tree, hands tied then the rope wrapped hight around the thick trunk. With swift action he pulled up her skirting and down went her petticoat. Pulling her ass out to meet him, had entered her virgin cunt from behind, feeling the satisfying tightness of a deflowering. She winced and made a squeal similar to those a fox makes when mating. It hurt, but at the same time it felt so good. The highwayman withdrew until just his cockhead was still engaged, leaving Annabelle feeling a little disappointed. But then he pushed back in, all the way and in one go. His animal instinct had kicked in and he had one overriding desire; to plant his seed in this nubile young lady. He picked up speed, plunging deeply each time. Annabelle's own arousal was equally uncontrolled. She knew what was about to happen after her recent voyeurism of Lord Bracewell fucking her mother across a grand piano one afternoon. A more amusing rather an arousing spectacle that brought to mind an overfed pug mounting a chair leg. This time the explosion was even more powerful - and it was accompanied by the highwayman's roar as she felt him fill her passage with his issue. It seemed to go on forever and she felt it leaking out around his shaft and down her legs. "God," he gasped as he finally withdrew from Annabelle. He untied her and helped her stand. "Did I, please you sir?" Annabelle inquired in her refined & well-bred cadence. The highwayman finally removed his face covering. Annabelle was surprised to see a weathered but good-looking man, with cheeks bearing scars. Under his cape, she had glimpsed a torn and darkened coat, that had been, long ago a Redcoat officer's uniform. This man was no stranger to battle, and had a long history that he wasn't prepared to reveal. "You and the others have earned your freedom Your Ladyship." He said with a bow, removing his 3-point hat in the process. Her charms prevailing to ransom her entourage. His siring became her own treasure, preparing her for yet more charming accomplishment in the upcoming matrimonial bedchamber. A Night at Mablethorpe Hall Two millennials Ravished by the ghost of a Redcoat on Halloween. "Don't you just love a Halloween-themed tour and a meal at an English country house?" Kate said to her friend as the minibus they were in pulled into the grounds of Mablethorpe Hall. "Yeah, these old places have a real atmosphere!" Chloe replied. "I've wanted to do something like this for like, forever. Stay overnight in some old place, pretend I'm lady of the manor. I'm so glad I booked this trip." "Kate you are such a history nerd. Lucy Worsley has a rival." "My heart is in the 18th century. Seriously. I just love anything from that time." Kate had often been described as an atypical millennial. They got off the bus and collected their luggage. "Come on, the tour is about to start. Let's dump our luggage. Apparently this place is haunted." Kate smiled. "All good English manors should have at least one ghost! Three hours in a minibus. I'm stiff from sitting so long." They collected their room keys. The Hall had not yet upgraded to the modern electronic key cards. Kate liked that. A traditional brass key was more in keeping with the decor. The receptionist looked worried. "Are you ok with having Room 13?" she asked. "Sure. I'm not superstitious. Don't tell me it's haunted?" "Well, some guests have reported that really strange things happen in that room. And the wi-fi doesn't work in there." Kate just assumed the woman was joking. "In that case, it sounds like my kind of room! Think I can last a few hours without wi-fi." The room was large and splendid. "Seriously? I get a king-size four poster bed?" Kate exclaimed as she gazed in awe. "This is so fantastic! I feel like Queen Anne." The bed looked so inviting, Kate couldn't resist just flopping back on it and spreading out. "Bliss!" she sighed. So much better than the single bed back at her cramped one-bed flat. She closed her eyes, Abruptly, Kate was overcome by a bizarre horniness, and masturbated more than she'd done in a long time. She was getting so wet, so hot and in a rush to give herself the release she so desperately needed. She hitched up her dress and pushed her panties down just a bit, then shoved her right hand down to her cunt. She used her left hand to push up her nightshirt and play with her breasts, pinching her nipples hard, making her moan with pleasure. Kate's right hand was busy with her cunt, alternately slipping down between her cunt lips and inside her hot, wet core, fucking herself with fingers, then pulling out to rub her clit. Back and forth, over and over. She was moaning, fantasizing about being pounded, pounded by an unknown uniformed man. Begging him to fuck her harder and send her climaxing in ecstasy, Kate was screaming. Suddenly her orgasm peaked and hit full force. She stopped all movement with her hands momentarily then began again, at first very fast and hard, then slowing as her orgasm began to subside. She lay there as her breathing slowly returned to normal. "Jesus," she muttered, when she could finally catch her breath again. "What the hell just happened?" The tour had already begun when Kate arrived to join the others. "What took you so long?" Chloe asked. "Thought you'd got lost." "Oh I just, er, oh wow, check out that tour guide!" "Mablethorpe Hall, one of Berkshire's finest country estates back in the day," the tour guide began. He was dressed in early 18th century period costume, with a long wig, frilled cuffs and breeches. "He looks just like John Hurt did in Rob Roy. I love the costumes in that movie." Kate whispered to Chloe, who rolled her eyes. Kate listened intently as every detail of the building's history was described. "But the most fascinating story of Mablethorpe," the guide continued, "is that it's said to be haunted by Major Robert Wolfe, a British Army officer." The was a chorus of "oh!" from the assembled tourists. "The Major is said to return to Mablethorpe every Halloween night, in hope of seeing the woman he once loved." "So the poor sod just wants to get laid?" a middle-aged bloke at the front said, and everyone burst out laughing. The tour guide evidently took this old legend extremely seriously and did not see the funny side. "As I was saying, the Major was in love with Lady Annabelle Barrington-Smythe. That in itself was a scandal, for she was married to William Barrington-Smythe. Rumor has it that the Major was actually a notorious highwayman known as The Fox, " Later, the guests were treated to a Halloween-themed meal in the Hall's grand banqueting room. There were the usual things adorning the tables - Jack o' lanterns, candles everywhere, fake cobwebs. In the background, a string quartet dressed as witches played a medley of Bach and Handel. "Not as spooky as I was expecting," Chloe said as she sampled the pumpkin pie and spiced rum. "I was hoping the lights were going to go out and there'd be a jump-scare or something. Like two years ago when we went to that zombie-themed night at Castle Howard. That was creepy as hell!" "This is nice though. Lots of atmosphere. I like it here. I'd like to, get married in a place like this. Have a historical-themed wedding. That is, if, " "When, Kate. When you meet that ideal guy. And you will. He's out there. Plenty of fish. Steve was a complete areole, but he's ancient history. A bit like this hall." "True!" After the meal concluded, there was more live music and dancing. "Think I'm going to call it a night," Kate said. "Oh you lightweight," Chloe replied, already tipsy. "Aren't you going to stay up for the midnight ghost walk in the grounds? You might see a good-looking highwayman." "No, I'm totally exhausted. Really. You can tell me all about it in the morning." "Fine, whatever. I know you're too afraid!" Kate headed up to her room, surprised at being overcome by such tiredness. She hadn't drunk that much, and it had hardly been an energetic evening. The glorious king-size bed and it's luxurious blankets beckoned, Sometime after midnight, Kate was in a deep slumber, but also in the throes of a nightmare. He's coming, Kate did not dream often, and she was even less often plagued by bad dreams. Several times she stirred, came half awake, and heard herself gasping in panic. Once, drifting up from some threatening vision, she heard her own voice crying out wordlessly in terror, and she realized she was thrashing about in the bed. Suddenly the air was oppressively heavy, hot, thick; as if it were not air at all but a bitter and poisonous gas of some kind. She tried to breathe, couldn't. There was an invisible, crushing weight on her chest. The unmistakable smell of gunpowder. Hoofbeats, many horses. Some kind of battle? A murderous barrage of lightning crashed like a volley of mortar fire, seven or eight tremendous bolts; and woke her from sleep in an instant. "Holy shit." Kate gasped as the storm made her sit upright in bed. She remembered what Chloe had said earlier, about the tour not being scary. Evidently, nature had now delivered a jump, a scare of its own. Already her memory of the nightmare had begun to dissolve; only fragments of it remained with her, and each of those disassociated images was evaporating as if it were a splinter of ice. All she could remember was that she'd been in a battle of some kind, and there had been many men - soldiers on horseback. They'd been pursuing her. Firing guns. As the nightmare receded, Kate became uncomfortably aware of how dark the bedroom was. Before going to sleep she had switched off both the bedside lamps. The curtains were all closed, and only thin blades of moonlight were visible between the gap she'd left. She had the irrational but unshakable feeling that something had followed her up from the dream, there was another presence in the room, oh God! She fumbled for the lamp switch, damn, where was it? Groped around, switched it on. Relief as golden light flooded the room, And then she saw him. Stood at the side of the bed. He was dressed in a Redcoat uniform, just calmly standing there. She gasped, but was so shocked, she couldn't utter a sound for a moment. Then her initial shock turned to anger. Was this part of the Halloween tour? Having re-enactors actually enter the guest bedrooms was completely unacceptable. "What the hell are you doing?" Kate yelled. He seemed taken aback by her reaction. "Who are you?" She demanded once she had caught her breath again. "I beg your pardon, Miss," he began. He removed his hat as he moved closer. "Major Robert Wolfe of His Majesty's 58th Regiment of Foot." "What are you doing here?" He smiled politely. "Where I come from, when a gentleman introduces himself, a lady generally responds in kind." Kate was about to respond with a sarcastic remark, but then she noticed that he was surrounded by a faint, silver glow. Her heart began to pound like crazy. Gathering all her courage, she decided to ask him directly. "Are you, dead?" The Major's face relaxed into a smile. "Oh indeed. Quite, quite dead. As I have been since the last night of October, Seventeen Sixty-five." Kate thought she might faint. "You're a," "A spirit, why yes. An earthbound and restless one, forever drawn to return to Mablethorpe every All Hallow's night. Isn't that quite a tale? I most humbly apologies for subjecting you to my battle experiences earlier, but t'was the only way I was able to wake you." She looked him up and down. He did look a gentleman, to be sure, and a handsome one at that. The signature red coat, crossed with white belts, the brown hair tied back in a queue and neatly curled at the sides, the breeches, knee-high leather boots. A brass gorget glinted round his neck. The Major took one of her pale, slender hands. Kate was surprised to feel solid flesh, rather than some kind of gaseous form, as expected of a ghost. Was he more of a zombie? His hand was as cold as ice. Kate suddenly felt her cheeks flush, under his intense gaze. If all those old stereotypes about ghosts were true, then he could probably see right through her nightie, as well as walk through walls, "Um, why did you wake me?" He was still holding her hand. "Well, I must beg your forgiveness for the manner of this intrusion, my lady. I am honored to make your acquaintance. I was drawn to you from the moment you arrived here. You resemble so much, someone I lost, long ago. For the past 255 years I keep returning here, hoping to find a lady who might be able to satisfy my most urgent of needs," Kate bit her lip, as she recalled that earlier incident in the bedroom when she'd pleasured herself. She'd never been a religious person. But now she was considering sex with a ghost. Was she about to embark on something that might damn her soul? On the other hand, she'd been single for a while, had been craving the touch of a man, "Major, I am willing to help you in any way I can." "You are lovely beyond belief. If I may so bold as to show my appreciation?" He leaned in to kiss the exposed skin of her neck; his lips leaving a hot trail from just below her ear to the center of her throat at the neck of her nightie. Kate closed her eyes and moaned. "A little more, my lady?" "Yes, oh yes," He kissed her and she parted her lips to let him in. The heat of his mouth and his probing tongue sent shivers through her body and she shifted closer to him to feel the heat of his body against hers. She breathed in the faint masculine scent. Major Wolfe pulled back the bedcovers. Then he pushed her nightie up to bare her belly. Leaning her back, he took one hardened nipple with his lips and she gasped. He sucked, pulling with his lips. At Kate's soft moan, he drew in a shuddering breath. "Touch me," he pleaded hoarsely, bringing her hand to the waistband of his breeches, and then guiding it down to cup the bulge in his groin. She explored eagerly, desperately, feeling his full erection through his breeches and groping lower to feel his balls. Oh lord, she was trembling so much with excitement. Unfastening the fall front flap, she pulled out his engorged organ. She couldn't believe this was happening. She was groping the cock of a dead man! And she was so wet. Kate took his hot length in her hand, feeling it, and stroked it up and down as she licked and sucked at the tip. The Major was generously endowed, and she felt herself blush. "Here," he said, moving her unoccupied hand to cup his balls. "Don't be shy, my lady." Gently squeezing his balls, she slowly took his throbbing cock into her mouth. He moaned as she deep-throated him. "Oh my lady," he groaned. Then Major Wolfe clambered on the bed and put his head between Kate's thighs. The tip of his tongue brushed her clitoris. She jumped and willed him to move faster. At first his tongue explored her wet folds, but he replaced his tongue with gentle fingers that probed and rubbed and finally penetrated. Kate's wetness was dripping down her arse crack and he rubbed it around with his fingers. The sensation made her squirm and she placed her feet on his shoulders, and when he finally sucked on her clit, she lifted herself up to meet his tongue. None of her previous partners had ever thrilled her as much as this. His face was flushed and damp and his expression was one of pure longing. "My lady, I want you so much. "He whispered and pushed up into her. "Ah!" Kate gasped, more from surprise than the stretching sensation. "Are you alright?" he said, wrapping one arm around her and holding her close. She gave her answer by kissing him. He insinuated his hand between their bodies and fingered her clit as he began to move inside her. Holy shit, those fingers, he knew exactly how to pleasure a woman for maximum effect! For a moment Kate thought of the fact he'd been waiting over two and a half centuries for this! He stroked her again with wet, slippery fingers and thrust steadily up into her. The combination awakened something within that she'd never felt before. Kate dug her hands into his back and tried to speak, but couldn't form words. The Redcoat's large cock filled her completely, stretching her walls to the limit. He was groaning and fucking her like a wild beast. "Come for me, my lady," Major Wolfe whispered in her ear, and she cried out. "Come for me, release for me. Let us spend together," he pleaded, and she did, her head falling back, her whole body shaking and clenching with the intensity of orgasm. He followed immediately; in an instant their coupling reached its conclusion and she was filled to the brim with his seed, Kate didn't want to let him go. They lay joined for what seemed like a long time. Eventually, Major Wolfe gently withdrew his softening member from his mortal lover. "Dawn approaches, my lady." "No, Major, stay, please," she whispered, tiredness overcoming her. "Rest now, my love. I must go." Kate tried to say something, but sleep was rapidly overcoming her. "We shall meet again. Soon, my love," was the last she heard. The sound of someone knocking on the door finally woke Kate. She squinted at the curtains. Bright sunlight was streaming through the gap. "Kate, are you awake?" Chloe's muffled voice could be heard. Fumbling for a dressing gown, Kate staggered out of bed and opened the door. "There you are! Were you in a coma or something? It's 11 o'clock! You've missed breakfast and the minibus will be here in half an hour!" "Oh God, sorry, I forgot to set my phone's alarm clock. I, er, I'll be down as quick as I can." "Are you ok? You look a bit peaky." "Just crashed out. How was the midnight ghost walk?" "Midnight wash-out you mean. Did you see that storm last night? It was unreal. So much lightning. Thought a freaking nuclear bomb had gone off!" "Oh. Guess I missed that." "Jeez, you were in a coma. That thunder could've wakened the dead!" "Maybe it did," Kate wondered. Alone in the room again, Kate returned to the bed. Her mind was a tumult of emotions. "It wasn't all a dream, was it? The product of a Halloween-crazed imagination? It couldn't have been, " Suddenly she spotted something under the pillow. Eyes widening, she picked it up. The brass gorget. "He was real!" She clutched it to her chest. And hoped she wouldn't have to wait until next Halloween before she saw Major Robert Wolfe again. By Blacksheep for Literotica

Lady Annabelle & Kate Two stories from 3 centuries, about one English mansion. By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. An aristocrat has an exciting encounter with a highwayman It is the Year of Our Lord 1760, and the roads leading to and from London be the most perilous for any traveler. Hounslow Heath being a favorite haunt of the highwayman and footpad. Folly indeed, for the unwary to wander alone. And London be a very wicked place, so it hath been told, with whores, beggars and cutpurses on every street corner, The journey of Lady Emily Arundel and her daughter Annabelle had been an uneventful one so far. "And when we arrive at Mablethorpe Hall, be sure to show your appreciation to Lord Barrington-Smythe. His son, William, wishes to seek your hand in marriage," Lady Emily began. "Yes Mother," her daughter replied, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "His estate comprises over a hundred acres of land," "Well, hark at that!" "owns several horses related to Whistlejacket," Annabelle struggled to contain a sigh. "properties in the colonies," "How glorious, Mother." "knows a clutch of fashionable London society in beautiful silk suits and powdered wigs attended by almost equally well appointed valets! Whom are accompanied by gorgeous ladies in even more elaborate wigs and dresses in the latest Paris fashions," The corpulent gentleman sat opposite them in the coach was Lord Bracewell, an old and dear friend of Lady Emily. He grinned at Annabelle, sensing her discomfort. "Your Ladyship, it may please you to know, that we are but a mile from our journey's end." And thank heaven for that, Bracewell thought to himself, now feeling the great need of a chamber pot after drinking an excess of ale. He adjusted his periwig. "Erm, perhaps an opportunity at this gathering for a, f, er, you know, eh?" He gestured something and Lady Emily quickly tapped his leg with her foot. "Shush. Manners, Cuthbert! Later, perhaps," At that moment the coach lurched as it hit a particularly large pothole. This stretch of road was notoriously bad. Suddenly, the coach shuddered to an uncomfortable halt and the horses squealed. Other hooves could be heard alongside. "Stand and deliver!" "Oh dear God!" Lord Bracewell exclaimed, crossing himself. "I fear we are about to be robbed!" The masked stranger yelled at the coachman. "Throw down your weapons my bonny boy, or I'll spill your guts on the road!" There was the sound of muskets hitting the ground. Inside the coach, Lady Emily trembled and uttered a prayer. A robber might take more from a lady than her silver. Annabelle should've been as terrified as her mother, but her wildly-beating heart was more out of excitement. "Perhaps this man may be more merciful than we give him credit for?" "Hush, my dearest daughter. These bandits are without scruples! Pray to the Lord!" A bay-colored horse's head and then its rider appeared outside the window. The figure who leaned down to peer into the window appeared tall, wearing a cape, a three-cornered hat and a black handkerchief across his mouth. Dark brown eyes. "Well now, what fabulous treasure do I find?" The highwayman pointed a flintlock pistol inches from Annabelle's face. He leaned forward and with a move of his wrist he flicked back her hood with the muzzle of the pistol. "Ah. A true English Rose." "Sir, I beg of you, do not harm my daughter," Lady Emily intervened. "She is but eighteen, an innocent child, she has no silver!" "Her fortune awaits at Mablethorpe Hall no doubt. But it is she I am taking, not her money. Come." And he beckoned, the hand still held out to help Annabelle down. "Why, what foul swine would take a young lady's honor? I forbid you to lay one finger on her!" Lady Emily yelled. "Take me in her place." "No Mother, I shall do as he asks," Annabelle interrupted, taking his hand. "My child, no!" "It shall be alright Mother," Annabelle replied. "Your daughter knows her own mind, Madam," the highwayman said. "So now, I must ask you to keep thine own counsel. It would give me no pleasure to shoot your coachman and your gentleman companion." Lady Emily could do nothing but remain in the coach as the mysterious stranger led Annabelle away and into the trees at the side of the road. "Sir. If I may be so bold, may I request a merciful death?" The damsel inquired. This rather caught the highwayman off guard. This young lady intrigued him far more than the other wealthy folks he'd ambushed in the past. How the ladies had screamed like banshees and pleaded for their lives. The simpering, periwigged dandy who'd pissed his breeches when a gun was pointed at his head. Aristocrats. The damned preening lot of them! How he loathed these ruling peacocks. Oh, he hadn't always been a highwayman. Back in his old life he'd fought for king and country. Until good fortune and those he looked up to had betrayed him, He had planned to kidnap the girl and hold her to ransom. Lord Arundel's daughter would command a high price. "You are indeed bold. And, I have no wish to kill you. Your beauty and grace are extremely attractive to young men and it is bound to rouse their passions." Annabelle thought for a moment. "Since I am without silver or jewels, perhaps I could offer you a gift of a different kind? If I were to sufficiently please you, would you let my mother, Lord Bracewell, the coachman and myself go free? I'll do anything, to please you." He blinked. "Even the most unladylike of things? Do you realize what you are saying?" "Sir, I am shortly to be married. It would be most helpful if I were sufficiently skilled in how to pleasure my husband on our wedding night. I have no experience whatsoever in meddling with a man, perhaps if I could, practice somehow." Those less-than-polite urges that had been assaulting her body recently, had now found the perfect outlet. "Will you service my prick like a common whore?" "Yes sir," Annabelle replied, kneeling before him. "Let's see you try then." He kept his pistol in his right hand. "No teeth." Annabelle unbuttoned the highwayman's breeches slowly, her careful motions at odds with the look in her blue eyes and pulled out the large and swollen member. She couldn't help but stare at his impressive length, simultaneously afraid and eager. A man's weapon in all its hardened glory. A thing she'd previously glimpsed from afar, now in her hands. He expected her to hesitate, but to his surprise, she leant forward and ran her tongue up the shaft. With all haste, she opened her mouth, allowing him to move it inside. He began to thrust his cock inside her mouth, holding her head steady. Shocked at herself, Annabelle couldn't deny that as she heard him pant and moan, she felt somehow strangely empowered. She began to suck, working her tongue around his member. The highwayman cursed and blasphemed holding her head firmer as he began to thrust faster. Eventually, he grasped her blonde hair tightly as he groaned, pushing his entire length down her throat and shot his seed into her. She swallowed every drop of it, rather liking the taste. "Impressive," he panted. He'd enjoyed that a lot more than he was willing to admit, but wasn't done with this little rich girl just yet. "Have you had enough yet, Marchioness Whore?" Panting she replied, "I think not. Please." "Please?" He ran his hand under her dress and up her thigh. "Please what?" "Please sir." He fingered her tantalizing wet womanhood. "Louder, if you please." "Ah, Please sir!" He chuckled, and withdrew. She was ready to beg him, but before she could he had her up against a tree, hands tied then the rope wrapped hight around the thick trunk. With swift action he pulled up her skirting and down went her petticoat. Pulling her ass out to meet him, had entered her virgin cunt from behind, feeling the satisfying tightness of a deflowering. She winced and made a squeal similar to those a fox makes when mating. It hurt, but at the same time it felt so good. The highwayman withdrew until just his cockhead was still engaged, leaving Annabelle feeling a little disappointed. But then he pushed back in, all the way and in one go. His animal instinct had kicked in and he had one overriding desire; to plant his seed in this nubile young lady. He picked up speed, plunging deeply each time. Annabelle's own arousal was equally uncontrolled. She knew what was about to happen after her recent voyeurism of Lord Bracewell fucking her mother across a grand piano one afternoon. A more amusing rather an arousing spectacle that brought to mind an overfed pug mounting a chair leg. This time the explosion was even more powerful - and it was accompanied by the highwayman's roar as she felt him fill her passage with his issue. It seemed to go on forever and she felt it leaking out around his shaft and down her legs. "God," he gasped as he finally withdrew from Annabelle. He untied her and helped her stand. "Did I, please you sir?" Annabelle inquired in her refined & well-bred cadence. The highwayman finally removed his face covering. Annabelle was surprised to see a weathered but good-looking man, with cheeks bearing scars. Under his cape, she had glimpsed a torn and darkened coat, that had been, long ago a Redcoat officer's uniform. This man was no stranger to battle, and had a long history that he wasn't prepared to reveal. "You and the others have earned your freedom Your Ladyship." He said with a bow, removing his 3-point hat in the process. Her charms prevailing to ransom her entourage. His siring became her own treasure, preparing her for yet more charming accomplishment in the upcoming matrimonial bedchamber. A Night at Mablethorpe Hall Two millennials Ravished by the ghost of a Redcoat on Halloween. "Don't you just love a Halloween-themed tour and a meal at an English country house?" Kate said to her friend as the minibus they were in pulled into the grounds of Mablethorpe Hall. "Yeah, these old places have a real atmosphere!" Chloe replied. "I've wanted to do something like this for like, forever. Stay overnight in some old place, pretend I'm lady of the manor. I'm so glad I booked this trip." "Kate you are such a history nerd. Lucy Worsley has a rival." "My heart is in the 18th century. Seriously. I just love anything from that time." Kate had often been described as an atypical millennial. They got off the bus and collected their luggage. "Come on, the tour is about to start. Let's dump our luggage. Apparently this place is haunted." Kate smiled. "All good English manors should have at least one ghost! Three hours in a minibus. I'm stiff from sitting so long." They collected their room keys. The Hall had not yet upgraded to the modern electronic key cards. Kate liked that. A traditional brass key was more in keeping with the decor. The receptionist looked worried. "Are you ok with having Room 13?" she asked. "Sure. I'm not superstitious. Don't tell me it's haunted?" "Well, some guests have reported that really strange things happen in that room. And the wi-fi doesn't work in there." Kate just assumed the woman was joking. "In that case, it sounds like my kind of room! Think I can last a few hours without wi-fi." The room was large and splendid. "Seriously? I get a king-size four poster bed?" Kate exclaimed as she gazed in awe. "This is so fantastic! I feel like Queen Anne." The bed looked so inviting, Kate couldn't resist just flopping back on it and spreading out. "Bliss!" she sighed. So much better than the single bed back at her cramped one-bed flat. She closed her eyes, Abruptly, Kate was overcome by a bizarre horniness, and masturbated more than she'd done in a long time. She was getting so wet, so hot and in a rush to give herself the release she so desperately needed. She hitched up her dress and pushed her panties down just a bit, then shoved her right hand down to her cunt. She used her left hand to push up her nightshirt and play with her breasts, pinching her nipples hard, making her moan with pleasure. Kate's right hand was busy with her cunt, alternately slipping down between her cunt lips and inside her hot, wet core, fucking herself with fingers, then pulling out to rub her clit. Back and forth, over and over. She was moaning, fantasizing about being pounded, pounded by an unknown uniformed man. Begging him to fuck her harder and send her climaxing in ecstasy, Kate was screaming. Suddenly her orgasm peaked and hit full force. She stopped all movement with her hands momentarily then began again, at first very fast and hard, then slowing as her orgasm began to subside. She lay there as her breathing slowly returned to normal. "Jesus," she muttered, when she could finally catch her breath again. "What the hell just happened?" The tour had already begun when Kate arrived to join the others. "What took you so long?" Chloe asked. "Thought you'd got lost." "Oh I just, er, oh wow, check out that tour guide!" "Mablethorpe Hall, one of Berkshire's finest country estates back in the day," the tour guide began. He was dressed in early 18th century period costume, with a long wig, frilled cuffs and breeches. "He looks just like John Hurt did in Rob Roy. I love the costumes in that movie." Kate whispered to Chloe, who rolled her eyes. Kate listened intently as every detail of the building's history was described. "But the most fascinating story of Mablethorpe," the guide continued, "is that it's said to be haunted by Major Robert Wolfe, a British Army officer." The was a chorus of "oh!" from the assembled tourists. "The Major is said to return to Mablethorpe every Halloween night, in hope of seeing the woman he once loved." "So the poor sod just wants to get laid?" a middle-aged bloke at the front said, and everyone burst out laughing. The tour guide evidently took this old legend extremely seriously and did not see the funny side. "As I was saying, the Major was in love with Lady Annabelle Barrington-Smythe. That in itself was a scandal, for she was married to William Barrington-Smythe. Rumor has it that the Major was actually a notorious highwayman known as The Fox, " Later, the guests were treated to a Halloween-themed meal in the Hall's grand banqueting room. There were the usual things adorning the tables - Jack o' lanterns, candles everywhere, fake cobwebs. In the background, a string quartet dressed as witches played a medley of Bach and Handel. "Not as spooky as I was expecting," Chloe said as she sampled the pumpkin pie and spiced rum. "I was hoping the lights were going to go out and there'd be a jump-scare or something. Like two years ago when we went to that zombie-themed night at Castle Howard. That was creepy as hell!" "This is nice though. Lots of atmosphere. I like it here. I'd like to, get married in a place like this. Have a historical-themed wedding. That is, if, " "When, Kate. When you meet that ideal guy. And you will. He's out there. Plenty of fish. Steve was a complete areole, but he's ancient history. A bit like this hall." "True!" After the meal concluded, there was more live music and dancing. "Think I'm going to call it a night," Kate said. "Oh you lightweight," Chloe replied, already tipsy. "Aren't you going to stay up for the midnight ghost walk in the grounds? You might see a good-looking highwayman." "No, I'm totally exhausted. Really. You can tell me all about it in the morning." "Fine, whatever. I know you're too afraid!" Kate headed up to her room, surprised at being overcome by such tiredness. She hadn't drunk that much, and it had hardly been an energetic evening. The glorious king-size bed and it's luxurious blankets beckoned, Sometime after midnight, Kate was in a deep slumber, but also in the throes of a nightmare. He's coming, Kate did not dream often, and she was even less often plagued by bad dreams. Several times she stirred, came half awake, and heard herself gasping in panic. Once, drifting up from some threatening vision, she heard her own voice crying out wordlessly in terror, and she realized she was thrashing about in the bed. Suddenly the air was oppressively heavy, hot, thick; as if it were not air at all but a bitter and poisonous gas of some kind. She tried to breathe, couldn't. There was an invisible, crushing weight on her chest. The unmistakable smell of gunpowder. Hoofbeats, many horses. Some kind of battle? A murderous barrage of lightning crashed like a volley of mortar fire, seven or eight tremendous bolts; and woke her from sleep in an instant. "Holy shit." Kate gasped as the storm made her sit upright in bed. She remembered what Chloe had said earlier, about the tour not being scary. Evidently, nature had now delivered a jump, a scare of its own. Already her memory of the nightmare had begun to dissolve; only fragments of it remained with her, and each of those disassociated images was evaporating as if it were a splinter of ice. All she could remember was that she'd been in a battle of some kind, and there had been many men - soldiers on horseback. They'd been pursuing her. Firing guns. As the nightmare receded, Kate became uncomfortably aware of how dark the bedroom was. Before going to sleep she had switched off both the bedside lamps. The curtains were all closed, and only thin blades of moonlight were visible between the gap she'd left. She had the irrational but unshakable feeling that something had followed her up from the dream, there was another presence in the room, oh God! She fumbled for the lamp switch, damn, where was it? Groped around, switched it on. Relief as golden light flooded the room, And then she saw him. Stood at the side of the bed. He was dressed in a Redcoat uniform, just calmly standing there. She gasped, but was so shocked, she couldn't utter a sound for a moment. Then her initial shock turned to anger. Was this part of the Halloween tour? Having re-enactors actually enter the guest bedrooms was completely unacceptable. "What the hell are you doing?" Kate yelled. He seemed taken aback by her reaction. "Who are you?" She demanded once she had caught her breath again. "I beg your pardon, Miss," he began. He removed his hat as he moved closer. "Major Robert Wolfe of His Majesty's 58th Regiment of Foot." "What are you doing here?" He smiled politely. "Where I come from, when a gentleman introduces himself, a lady generally responds in kind." Kate was about to respond with a sarcastic remark, but then she noticed that he was surrounded by a faint, silver glow. Her heart began to pound like crazy. Gathering all her courage, she decided to ask him directly. "Are you, dead?" The Major's face relaxed into a smile. "Oh indeed. Quite, quite dead. As I have been since the last night of October, Seventeen Sixty-five." Kate thought she might faint. "You're a," "A spirit, why yes. An earthbound and restless one, forever drawn to return to Mablethorpe every All Hallow's night. Isn't that quite a tale? I most humbly apologies for subjecting you to my battle experiences earlier, but t'was the only way I was able to wake you." She looked him up and down. He did look a gentleman, to be sure, and a handsome one at that. The signature red coat, crossed with white belts, the brown hair tied back in a queue and neatly curled at the sides, the breeches, knee-high leather boots. A brass gorget glinted round his neck. The Major took one of her pale, slender hands. Kate was surprised to feel solid flesh, rather than some kind of gaseous form, as expected of a ghost. Was he more of a zombie? His hand was as cold as ice. Kate suddenly felt her cheeks flush, under his intense gaze. If all those old stereotypes about ghosts were true, then he could probably see right through her nightie, as well as walk through walls, "Um, why did you wake me?" He was still holding her hand. "Well, I must beg your forgiveness for the manner of this intrusion, my lady. I am honored to make your acquaintance. I was drawn to you from the moment you arrived here. You resemble so much, someone I lost, long ago. For the past 255 years I keep returning here, hoping to find a lady who might be able to satisfy my most urgent of needs," Kate bit her lip, as she recalled that earlier incident in the bedroom when she'd pleasured herself. She'd never been a religious person. But now she was considering sex with a ghost. Was she about to embark on something that might damn her soul? On the other hand, she'd been single for a while, had been craving the touch of a man, "Major, I am willing to help you in any way I can." "You are lovely beyond belief. If I may so bold as to show my appreciation?" He leaned in to kiss the exposed skin of her neck; his lips leaving a hot trail from just below her ear to the center of her throat at the neck of her nightie. Kate closed her eyes and moaned. "A little more, my lady?" "Yes, oh yes," He kissed her and she parted her lips to let him in. The heat of his mouth and his probing tongue sent shivers through her body and she shifted closer to him to feel the heat of his body against hers. She breathed in the faint masculine scent. Major Wolfe pulled back the bedcovers. Then he pushed her nightie up to bare her belly. Leaning her back, he took one hardened nipple with his lips and she gasped. He sucked, pulling with his lips. At Kate's soft moan, he drew in a shuddering breath. "Touch me," he pleaded hoarsely, bringing her hand to the waistband of his breeches, and then guiding it down to cup the bulge in his groin. She explored eagerly, desperately, feeling his full erection through his breeches and groping lower to feel his balls. Oh lord, she was trembling so much with excitement. Unfastening the fall front flap, she pulled out his engorged organ. She couldn't believe this was happening. She was groping the cock of a dead man! And she was so wet. Kate took his hot length in her hand, feeling it, and stroked it up and down as she licked and sucked at the tip. The Major was generously endowed, and she felt herself blush. "Here," he said, moving her unoccupied hand to cup his balls. "Don't be shy, my lady." Gently squeezing his balls, she slowly took his throbbing cock into her mouth. He moaned as she deep-throated him. "Oh my lady," he groaned. Then Major Wolfe clambered on the bed and put his head between Kate's thighs. The tip of his tongue brushed her clitoris. She jumped and willed him to move faster. At first his tongue explored her wet folds, but he replaced his tongue with gentle fingers that probed and rubbed and finally penetrated. Kate's wetness was dripping down her arse crack and he rubbed it around with his fingers. The sensation made her squirm and she placed her feet on his shoulders, and when he finally sucked on her clit, she lifted herself up to meet his tongue. None of her previous partners had ever thrilled her as much as this. His face was flushed and damp and his expression was one of pure longing. "My lady, I want you so much. "He whispered and pushed up into her. "Ah!" Kate gasped, more from surprise than the stretching sensation. "Are you alright?" he said, wrapping one arm around her and holding her close. She gave her answer by kissing him. He insinuated his hand between their bodies and fingered her clit as he began to move inside her. Holy shit, those fingers, he knew exactly how to pleasure a woman for maximum effect! For a moment Kate thought of the fact he'd been waiting over two and a half centuries for this! He stroked her again with wet, slippery fingers and thrust steadily up into her. The combination awakened something within that she'd never felt before. Kate dug her hands into his back and tried to speak, but couldn't form words. The Redcoat's large cock filled her completely, stretching her walls to the limit. He was groaning and fucking her like a wild beast. "Come for me, my lady," Major Wolfe whispered in her ear, and she cried out. "Come for me, release for me. Let us spend together," he pleaded, and she did, her head falling back, her whole body shaking and clenching with the intensity of orgasm. He followed immediately; in an instant their coupling reached its conclusion and she was filled to the brim with his seed, Kate didn't want to let him go. They lay joined for what seemed like a long time. Eventually, Major Wolfe gently withdrew his softening member from his mortal lover. "Dawn approaches, my lady." "No, Major, stay, please," she whispered, tiredness overcoming her. "Rest now, my love. I must go." Kate tried to say something, but sleep was rapidly overcoming her. "We shall meet again. Soon, my love," was the last she heard. The sound of someone knocking on the door finally woke Kate. She squinted at the curtains. Bright sunlight was streaming through the gap. "Kate, are you awake?" Chloe's muffled voice could be heard. Fumbling for a dressing gown, Kate staggered out of bed and opened the door. "There you are! Were you in a coma or something? It's 11 o'clock! You've missed breakfast and the minibus will be here in half an hour!" "Oh God, sorry, I forgot to set my phone's alarm clock. I, er, I'll be down as quick as I can." "Are you ok? You look a bit peaky." "Just crashed out. How was the midnight ghost walk?" "Midnight wash-out you mean. Did you see that storm last night? It was unreal. So much lightning. Thought a freaking nuclear bomb had gone off!" "Oh. Guess I missed that." "Jeez, you were in a coma. That thunder could've wakened the dead!" "Maybe it did," Kate wondered. Alone in the room again, Kate returned to the bed. Her mind was a tumult of emotions. "It wasn't all a dream, was it? The product of a Halloween-crazed imagination? It couldn't have been, " Suddenly she spotted something under the pillow. Eyes widening, she picked it up. The brass gorget. "He was real!" She clutched it to her chest. And hoped she wouldn't have to wait until next Halloween before she saw Major Robert Wolfe again. By Blacksheep for Literotica

Hello and welcome to Side 6 Soundwaves - Giant Robot FM's attempt to cover GQux on a week-to-week basis as it airs! For the debut episode, we have on Lady Emily to talk through all the happenings of meeting Machu and company.The first episode of S6S is available to all free - future episodes will be patron exclusive at the $5 tier. Please consider supporting us if you like this episode!Please find Emily at these links:Bsky: https://bsky.app/profile/ladyemily.nebula.tvYoutube: https://www.youtube.com/@LadyEmilyPresentsSkeet us @giantrobotfm.bsky.social and write to us ⁠⁠⁠⁠giantrobotfm@gmail.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Giant Robot FM is hosted by Stephen Hero and pmcTRILOGY Support us directly at ⁠⁠⁠patreon.com/giantrobotfm⁠⁠⁠ Graphic Design by DuarfS ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.behance.net/maezurita⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.instagram.com/duarfs⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠Art by Szkin ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://twitter.com/szkin_art⁠⁠⁠⁠ Music by fretzl (@fretzl) ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.youtube.com/fretzl⁠

In The Mysterious Case of the Victorian Female Detective (Yale UP, 2024), Sara Lodge tells stories of women who brought 19th century criminals to justice, in real life and popular culture, as unacknowledged crime-fighters and feminist icons.  On stage and in fiction, women detectives were sensational figures who fascinated the public with cross-dressing, fist-swinging heroines who captured thieves, flushed out cheats, and solved murders. Few people realize that these characters were based on real women who were active as detectives in private agencies and in the Victorian police force. Far from the mythology of an all-male world, women were a daily presence in police activity, although often underpaid and overlooked. They did important and dangerous work in a variety of roles both openly and as undercover agents.  While the fictional characters were heroic figures who always saved the day, these morally ambiguous real women were sometimes paid to betray, deceive, or entrap in the murky underworld of Victorian society.  Related resources: The interest in Victorian women detectives continues into the present with dozens of contemporary novels, film, and tv featuring Victorian female detectives.  Miss Scarlet on PBS is an original series by Rachael New. The Enola Holmes and Enola Holmes 2 films on Netflix are based on the original Enola Holmes books written by Nancy Springer. More Sherlock Holmes adjacent charaters are Mary Russell by Laurie R. King and Lady Sherlock by Sherry Thomas. While many actual female detectives were working class, fictional portrayals often feature upper class heroines as private detectives such as Lady Darby by Anna Lee Huber, Lady Emily by Tasha Alexander, and both Veronica Speedwell and Lady Julia Grey by Deanna Raybourn.  Author recommended reading A Flat Place by Noreen Masud Hosted by Meghan Cochran  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/gender-studies

In The Mysterious Case of the Victorian Female Detective (Yale UP, 2024), Sara Lodge tells stories of women who brought 19th century criminals to justice, in real life and popular culture, as unacknowledged crime-fighters and feminist icons.  On stage and in fiction, women detectives were sensational figures who fascinated the public with cross-dressing, fist-swinging heroines who captured thieves, flushed out cheats, and solved murders. Few people realize that these characters were based on real women who were active as detectives in private agencies and in the Victorian police force. Far from the mythology of an all-male world, women were a daily presence in police activity, although often underpaid and overlooked. They did important and dangerous work in a variety of roles both openly and as undercover agents.  While the fictional characters were heroic figures who always saved the day, these morally ambiguous real women were sometimes paid to betray, deceive, or entrap in the murky underworld of Victorian society.  Related resources: The interest in Victorian women detectives continues into the present with dozens of contemporary novels, film, and tv featuring Victorian female detectives.  Miss Scarlet on PBS is an original series by Rachael New. The Enola Holmes and Enola Holmes 2 films on Netflix are based on the original Enola Holmes books written by Nancy Springer. More Sherlock Holmes adjacent charaters are Mary Russell by Laurie R. King and Lady Sherlock by Sherry Thomas. While many actual female detectives were working class, fictional portrayals often feature upper class heroines as private detectives such as Lady Darby by Anna Lee Huber, Lady Emily by Tasha Alexander, and both Veronica Speedwell and Lady Julia Grey by Deanna Raybourn.  Author recommended reading A Flat Place by Noreen Masud Hosted by Meghan Cochran  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/literary-studies

In The Mysterious Case of the Victorian Female Detective (Yale UP, 2024), Sara Lodge tells stories of women who brought 19th century criminals to justice, in real life and popular culture, as unacknowledged crime-fighters and feminist icons.  On stage and in fiction, women detectives were sensational figures who fascinated the public with cross-dressing, fist-swinging heroines who captured thieves, flushed out cheats, and solved murders. Few people realize that these characters were based on real women who were active as detectives in private agencies and in the Victorian police force. Far from the mythology of an all-male world, women were a daily presence in police activity, although often underpaid and overlooked. They did important and dangerous work in a variety of roles both openly and as undercover agents.  While the fictional characters were heroic figures who always saved the day, these morally ambiguous real women were sometimes paid to betray, deceive, or entrap in the murky underworld of Victorian society.  Related resources: The interest in Victorian women detectives continues into the present with dozens of contemporary novels, film, and tv featuring Victorian female detectives.  Miss Scarlet on PBS is an original series by Rachael New. The Enola Holmes and Enola Holmes 2 films on Netflix are based on the original Enola Holmes books written by Nancy Springer. More Sherlock Holmes adjacent charaters are Mary Russell by Laurie R. King and Lady Sherlock by Sherry Thomas. While many actual female detectives were working class, fictional portrayals often feature upper class heroines as private detectives such as Lady Darby by Anna Lee Huber, Lady Emily by Tasha Alexander, and both Veronica Speedwell and Lady Julia Grey by Deanna Raybourn.  Author recommended reading A Flat Place by Noreen Masud Hosted by Meghan Cochran  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/historical-fiction

In the 2000s, despite some resistance, the alt-rock stations finally discovered hip-hop, or at least something resembling it. But which was the superior UK hip-hop inflected alt-rock song, the Gorillaz' "Feel Good Inc." or M.I.A.'s "Paper Planes"? See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

This week we are joined by video essayist Lady Emily in discussing John Cameron Mitchell's cult classic. Angie remembers her teenage punk years, Emily shops the Criterion Collection, and Kaveh ponders what kind of person went to the movies the week of 9/11.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

We're one episode away from being in the double digits, folks! Whoop! But for now, let's dive into episode nine of Indiescovery. Kicking off the episode we actually have a special guest (and definitely not one of Liam's many personas), it's Father Dringus Godliman! The Father guides the Indiescovery gang to a totally real and not metaphysical confession booth where we can safely reveal our Steam sins. After a quick chat about how many games each of us has on our Steam accounts, and how many of them we've actually played, we get into our most-played indies. Rebecca is up first with Max Gentlemen: Sexy Business!, a fun NSFW dating sim with business sim elements, which also acted as the perfect springboard for a quick chat about NSFW indies in general. Rachel's top game is the farming timesink Stardew Valley which surprised absolutely no one, and Liam's is the action roguelike dopamine hitter Vampire Survivors. The next topic of our sinful purge are indie games we own with shocking low playtime. You know what we mean, those games that we all longingly look at in our Steam libraries and swear that one day we will return to them. Liam admits to the cutesy city builder Outlanders and vibrant dark fantasy FPS Amid Evil. Rebecca's games are the beasty RPG Disco Elysium (totally understandable, that one) and The Infectious Madness Of Doctor Dekker, a Lovecraftian FMV game. Rachel's picks were tear-jerker Ori and The Blind Forest and tough-as-nails survival platformer Rain World. And last, but not least, our most shocking confessions: shameful unplayed indie games that we really should play but have not - the greatest of all sins! We're surprised the whole booth didn't burst into flames of retribution. Liam's are story-rich RPG turned full-blown cult Undertale, cosy management sim Spiritfarer, and Disco Elysium - a game which you've really gotta be in the right mood to play. Undertale makes a second appearance in Rebecca's picks, alongside the adorable exploration game Haven Park, and her aforementioned match-made-in-heaven game Paradise Killer (which she WILL play one-day folks, promise). Rachel's pile of shame includes the gothic visual novel The House In Fata Morgana and the turn-based death march Darkest Dungeon. And thus, the purge is complete. After a fond farewell to Father Dringus Godliman, the squad chats about the games we've been playing recently. Rebecca's been rolling dice in the off-beat RPG Betrayal At Club Low (this month's RPS Game Club pick), Rachel's been reading folks' fortunes in The Cosmic Wheel Of Sisterhood, and Liam has been feeding beavers countless jars of pickled goods in gorgeous city-builder Against The Storm. It's hyperfixation time! Rebecca has been playing lots and lots and lots of Honkai: Star Rail, at first for work but now for fun, making her question if it's actually a hyperfixation or a hostage situation. Rachel lists way too many YouTubers who have the best video essays including Mike's Mic, Sarah Z, NakeyJakey, Jacob Geller, Jenny Nicholson, Super Eye Patch Wolf, and Quinton Reviews (she also missed out ContraPoints, Defunctland, and hbomberguy so here they are retroactively). Rebecca chimes in with the Murder She Wrote videos of PushingUpRoses and Liam suggests Lady Emily's video on the almost downfall of the band Gorillaz. Liam ends with another devastating book recommendation (one that was recommended to him by fellow RPS Treehouser Ed) called Stoner by John Williams. Liam is really out here trying to make us all cry with sobering, life-changing book choices, huh. Indiescovery is a podcast by Rock Paper Shotgun. Our theme music is by Dylan Sitts, specifically the songs Tahoe Trip, Pool Sticker, and Express Check-in. You can contact the podcast by chucking an email to podcast@rockpapershotgun.com, or by chatting to like-minded individuals about PC gaming over in our Discord. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Clued in Mystery is taking a short break. While we are off, we are re-releasing some of our favourite episodes from Season 2. This week: Historical Mystery (part 1).Whether set in ancient Egypt or the 1920s, readers are sure to find a historical mystery set in a period they love. In this episode, Brook and Sarah discuss the origins of historical mysteries and share some of their favourites.Books and authors mentionedWilliam ShakespeareLeo TolsoySir Walter ScottSir Arthur Conan DoyleAgatha Christie Death Comes as the EndBrother Cadfael series by Ellis PetersAnne Perry The Cater Street HangmanUmberto Echo The Name of the RoseAndrea Penrose's Wrexford and Sloane seriesIona Whishaw's Lane Winslow seriesC.J. Sansom's Shardlake seriesTasha Alexander's Lady Emily series“The Three Apples” in One Thousand and One NightsDeanna Raybourn Lady Julia Gray series and the Veronica Speedwell seriesCrocodile on the Sandbank by Elizabeth PetersPhilippa GregoryReferences“Deanna Raybourn on Mistaken Perceptions of the Victorian Age”. Writer Writer Pants on Fire, Feb. 28, 2022. Ep. 194https://celadonbooks.com/what-is-historical-fiction/For more informationwww.cluedinmystery.comInstagram: @cluedinmysteryContact us: hello@cluedinmystery.comMusic: Signs To Nowhere by Shane Ivers – www.silvermansound.comTranscript

Whether set in ancient Egypt or the 1920s, readers are sure to find a historical mystery set in a period they love. In this episode, Brook and Sarah discuss the origins of historical mysteries and share some of their favourites. Books and authors mentioned: William Shakespeare Leo Tolstoy Sir Walter Scott Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Agatha Christie Death Comes as the End Brother Cadfael series by Ellis Peters Anne Perry The Cater Street Hangman Umberto Echo The Name of the Rose Andrea Penrose's Wrexford and Sloane series Iona Whishaw's Lane Winslow series C.J. Sansom's Shardlake series Tasha Alexander's Lady Emily series "The Three Apples" in One Thousand and One Nights Deanna Raybourn Lady Julia Gray series and the Veronica Speedwell series Crocodile on the Sandbank by Elizabeth Peters Philippa Gregory References: "Deanna Raybourn on Mistaken Perceptions of the Victorian Age". Writer Writer Pants on Fire, Feb. 28, 2022. Ep. 194 https://celadonbooks.com/what-is-historical-fiction/   For more information: www.cluedinmystery.com Instagram: @cluedinmystery Contact us: hello@cluedinmystery.com Music: Signs To Nowhere by Shane Ivers - www.silvermansound.com  Transcript

The team discuss the latest video game news. Plus, Shredders; Contrast Paints; The Evolving Relationship of Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy by Lady Emily; The House Witch: A Humorous Romantic Fantasy; Spiritfarer: Farwell Edition; Expedition Theme Park and Obi-wan Kenobe. #GameBurst More info... https://linktr.ee/taylornova6 Music: Monkey Island Theme The Evolving Relationship of Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy by Lady Emily https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvMSxfQDb6c&t=15s Expedition Theme Park https://www.youtube.com/c/ExpeditionThemePark GW Contrast Paints: https://www.warhammer-community.com/2022/06/13/a-new-era-of-paints-new-contrast-colours-reformulated-shades-and-our-best-white-spray-ever/

Let's look back on the first third of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind with special guest Lady Emily! You can watch her video essays here: https://www.youtube.com/c/LadyEmilyPresents

We were so excited to have Lady Emily join us this week, but we were not prepared for the exquisite Home Improvement reboot she brought to us - it came to her in a dream, y'all! And as she tells us of it we'll also discuss dad behaviour, microwave wiring, and the cover of the Black Eyed Peas album The E.N.D. Our friendship promo this week is @PodVsMachine! Our cover art is by Alex aka @ptchew, and her work can be found on ptchew.com. Our theme music is by Shawn Clake, who's contact info is available upon request. Our email is NotIfIRebootYouFirst@gmail.com. If you would like to send us a friendship promo, or just give general feedback, feel free to contact us! You can also join our Discord at https://discord.gg/Hf8Y2yEJPe. Lady Emily: @GreatCheshire Find us on twitter: @NIIRYFPod @LindsayM476 @SparkyUpstart

The Film Brain Podcast returns, as I'm joined by NerdSync, Lady Emily, and MarzGurl to discuss Matt Reeves' take on the DC superhero, discussing the film's themes and inspirations, Robert Pattinson's performance, test screenings, where this incarnation of Gotham could go in the future, and so much more in this two-hour special!

Escucha este audiolibro completo aquí: https://bit.ly/3K3lNlCNarrado por: Jane SantosSolo desea huir de la humillante escena del arresto de su prometido la víspera de su boda. Celia Kilbride, experta en joyas, acepta un puesto de trabajo en el transatlántico Queen Charlotte para escapar de la atención pública. Allí conoce a Lady Emily Haywood, de ochenta y seis años, dueña de un collar de esmeraldas de incalculable valor que desea donar a un museo tras el crucero. Pero el tercer día de travesía encuentran a Lady Emily muerta y el collar ha desaparecido. La lista de sospechosos no hace más que crecer. Celia se dispone a encontrar al asesino sin darse cuenta de que se ha puesto en peligro mortal antes de que el crucero llegue a su fin. #penguinaudio #audiolibro #audiolibros #Mary #Higgins #Clark #MaryHigginsClark See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

F&F is pleased to welcome husband and wife thriller writers Tasha Alexander and Andrew Grant. They discuss their life on a wildlife preserve in Wyoming, Tasha's bestselling Lady Emily mystery series, their own "meet cute" at a hotel bar at a literary festival, and, of course, Andrew's role in co-writing and taking the mantle of the beloved and mega-bestselling Jack Reacher series from his brother, Lee Child. Hear about Tasha's latest book THE DARK HEART OF FLORENCE and Andrew's latest Jack Reacher novel, BETTER OFF DEAD.

This week on Get Cynical, Esther and Spencer talk about Doug Walker's infamous failed attempt at escaping the Nostalgia Critic. Check out Lady Emily's video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFIlUa6WYuM

Tasha is back to talk about her latest book "In the Shadow of Vesuvius: Book 14 Lady Emily series": In skillfully intertwined storylines from the dawn of the twentieth century and the heyday of the Roman Empire, Tasha Alexander's In the Shadow of Vesuvius, the latest installment to her bestselling series, brings Lady Emily and her husband to Pompeii, where they uncover a recent crime in the ancient city. Some corpses lie undisturbed longer than others. But when Lady Emily discovers a body hidden in plain sight amongst the ruins of Pompeii, she sets in motion a deadly chain of events that ties her future to the fate of a woman whose story had been lost for nearly two thousand years. Emily and her husband, Colin Hargreaves, have accompanied her dear friend Ivy Brandon on a trip to Pompeii. When they uncover a corpse and the police dismiss the murder as the work of local gangsters, Emily launches an investigation of her own. She seems to be aided by the archaeologists excavating the ruins, including a moody painter, the enigmatic site director, and a free-thinking American capable of sparring with even the Duke of Bainbridge. But each of them has secrets hiding among the ruins. The sudden appearance of a beautiful young woman who claims a shocking relationship to the Hargreaves family throws Emily's investigation off-course. And as she struggles to face an unsettling truth about Colin's past, it becomes clear that someone else wants her off the case—for good. Emily's resolve to unearth the facts is unshakable. But how far below the surface can she dig before she risks burying herself along with the truth?

90 minutes of great radio: Tasha Alexander, JJ Hensley and Daniella Bernett. Tasha Alexander "Uneasy Lies The Crown" a Lady Emily Mystery: " In Uneasy Lies the Crown, the thrilling new mystery in Tasha Alexander's bestselling series, Lady Emily and her husband Colin must stop a serial killer whose sights may be set on the new king, Edward VII. On her deathbed, Queen Victoria asks to speak privately with trusted agent of the Crown, Colin Hargreaves, and slips him a letter with one last command: Une sanz pluis. Sapere aude. "One and no more. Dare to know." The year is 1901 and the death of Britain's longest-reigning monarch has sent the entire British Empire into mourning. But for Lady Emily and her dashing husband, Colin, the grieving is cut short as another death takes center stage. A body has been found in the Tower of London, posed to look like the murdered medieval king Henry VI. When a second dead man turns up in London's exclusive Berkeley Square, his mutilated remains staged to evoke the violent demise of Edward II, it becomes evident that the mastermind behind the crimes plans to strike again. The race to find the killer takes Emily deep into the capital's underbelly, teeming with secret gangs, street children, and sleazy brothels—but the clues aren't adding up. Even more puzzling are the anonymous letters Colin has been receiving since Victoria's death, seeming to threaten her successor, Edward VII. With the killer leaving a trail of dead kings in his wake, will Edward be the next victim?"

90 minutes of great radio: Tasha Alexander, JJ Hensley and Daniella Bernett. Tasha Alexander "Uneasy Lies The Crown" a Lady Emily Mystery: " In Uneasy Lies the Crown, the thrilling new mystery in Tasha Alexander's bestselling series, Lady Emily and her husband Colin must stop a serial killer whose sights may be set on the new king, Edward VII. On her deathbed, Queen Victoria asks to speak privately with trusted agent of the Crown, Colin Hargreaves, and slips him a letter with one last command: Une sanz pluis. Sapere aude. “One and no more. Dare to know.” The year is 1901 and the death of Britain’s longest-reigning monarch has sent the entire British Empire into mourning. But for Lady Emily and her dashing husband, Colin, the grieving is cut short as another death takes center stage. A body has been found in the Tower of London, posed to look like the murdered medieval king Henry VI. When a second dead man turns up in London's exclusive Berkeley Square, his mutilated remains staged to evoke the violent demise of Edward II, it becomes evident that the mastermind behind the crimes plans to strike again. The race to find the killer takes Emily deep into the capital’s underbelly, teeming with secret gangs, street children, and sleazy brothels—but the clues aren’t adding up. Even more puzzling are the anonymous letters Colin has been receiving since Victoria's death, seeming to threaten her successor, Edward VII. With the killer leaving a trail of dead kings in his wake, will Edward be the next victim?"

We have a two hour action packed show for you today. D.P. Lyle is back with some friends talking about their latest anthology. Bestselling Author Tasha Alexander, Michael Brandman all join us on the show. Tasha Alexander "A Death in St. Petersburg": After the final curtain of Swan Lake, an animated crowd exits the Mariinsky theatre brimming with excitement from the night's performance. But outside the scene is somber. A ballerina's body lies face down in the snow, blood splattered like rose petals over the costume of the Swan Queen. The crowd is silenced by a single cry— "Nemetseva is dead!" Amongst the theatergoers is Lady Emily, accompanying her dashing husband Colin in Russia on assignment from the Crown. But it soon becomes clear that Colin isn't the only one with work to do. When the dead ballerina's aristocratic lover comes begging for justice, Emily must apply her own set of skills to discover the rising star's murderer. Her investigation takes her on a dance across the stage of Tsarist Russia, from the opulence of the Winter Palace, to the modest flats of ex-ballerinas and the locked attics of political radicals. A mysterious dancer in white follows closely behind, making waves through St. Petersburg with her surprise performances and trail of red scarves. Is it the sweet Katenka, Nemetseva's childhood friend and favorite rival? The ghost of the murdered étoile herself? Or, something even more sinister?

We have a two hour action packed show for you today. D.P. Lyle is back with some friends talking about their latest anthology. Bestselling Author Tasha Alexander, Michael Brandman all join us on the show.  Tasha Alexander "A Death in St. Petersburg":  After the final curtain of Swan Lake, an animated crowd exits the Mariinsky theatre brimming with excitement from the night’s performance. But outside the scene is somber. A ballerina’s body lies face down in the snow, blood splattered like rose petals over the costume of the Swan Queen. The crowd is silenced by a single cry— “Nemetseva is dead!” Amongst the theatergoers is Lady Emily, accompanying her dashing husband Colin in Russia on assignment from the Crown. But it soon becomes clear that Colin isn’t the only one with work to do. When the dead ballerina’s aristocratic lover comes begging for justice, Emily must apply her own set of skills to discover the rising star’s murderer. Her investigation takes her on a dance across the stage of Tsarist Russia, from the opulence of the Winter Palace, to the modest flats of ex-ballerinas and the locked attics of political radicals. A mysterious dancer in white follows closely behind, making waves through St. Petersburg with her surprise performances and trail of red scarves. Is it the sweet Katenka, Nemetseva’s childhood friend and favorite rival? The ghost of the murdered étoile herself? Or, something even more sinister?

Laylaleigh will be creating a Goodwood collection for the forthcoming season – which starts with Opening Saturday on 30 April – with each hat being named after a woman who has been significant to the Goodwood Estate’s history. French aristocrat Louise de Karoualle is celebrated with a piece named ‘Duchess of Portsmouth,’ while the ‘Lady Emily’ hat takes its name from the lively and head-strong Lady Emily Lennox. As preferred milliner, Laylaleigh will lend its skills to helping shape the image of the Racecourse, leading the style and setting the trends for racegoers to follow.

Today is the dat Lady Emily of House Blatt and Lord Milo of House Sworn were married. It is also the day of a squirrel counter-attack. It is the Feast Day of St. Anna Cervinius, and in the garden, there is a homecoming. Be Safe, and Stay out of Trouble.

Well-brought-up Victorian ladies don’t expect their childhood nemeses to write from out of the blue, pleading for help because, as the nemesis so tactfully puts it, “what lady of my rank would associate with persons who investigate crimes?” In this case, the crime is murder, and the summons brings Lady Emily Hargreaves post-haste from London to aid and support Contessa Emma Barozzi–nee Callum, and the nemesis from Emily’s past–whose husband the Venetian police suspect of dispatching his own father with a medieval stiletto and fleeing with Emma’s inheritance, a cache of illuminated Renaissance manuscript books. Although tempted to refuse Emma’s plea for help, Emily cannot abandon a fellow Englishwoman in the midst of crisis–or turn down an opportunity to overcome the petty dislikes of childhood. Moreover, Emily, through no fault of her own, has amassed a certain amount of experience in solving deadly crimes in London, Vienna, Istanbul, and rural France. With her husband, an agent of the British crown, she plunges into an unfamiliar, sometimes terrifying, but appealing world of art, gondolas, canals, decaying palazzi, back streets, brothels, bookstores, carnival figures, and ancient noble families with unresolved feuds that predate Romeo and Juliet. Soon Emily begins to suspect that the key to the mystery lies four centuries in the past, with links to the fifteenth-century ring found clasped in the victim’s dead hand. This is the seventh of Lady Emily’s adventures, which began with And Only to Deceive. The next in the Lady Emily series, Behind the Shattered Glass, is due off-press in October 2013. On what Tasha has in store for her characters after that, you will have to listen to the podcast. She is a wonderful speaker: I promise you will not be disappointed. And, of course, read Death in the Floating City. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Well-brought-up Victorian ladies don’t expect their childhood nemeses to write from out of the blue, pleading for help because, as the nemesis so tactfully puts it, “what lady of my rank would associate with persons who investigate crimes?” In this case, the crime is murder, and the summons brings Lady Emily Hargreaves post-haste from London to aid and support Contessa Emma Barozzi–nee Callum, and the nemesis from Emily’s past–whose husband the Venetian police suspect of dispatching his own father with a medieval stiletto and fleeing with Emma’s inheritance, a cache of illuminated Renaissance manuscript books. Although tempted to refuse Emma’s plea for help, Emily cannot abandon a fellow Englishwoman in the midst of crisis–or turn down an opportunity to overcome the petty dislikes of childhood. Moreover, Emily, through no fault of her own, has amassed a certain amount of experience in solving deadly crimes in London, Vienna, Istanbul, and rural France. With her husband, an agent of the British crown, she plunges into an unfamiliar, sometimes terrifying, but appealing world of art, gondolas, canals, decaying palazzi, back streets, brothels, bookstores, carnival figures, and ancient noble families with unresolved feuds that predate Romeo and Juliet. Soon Emily begins to suspect that the key to the mystery lies four centuries in the past, with links to the fifteenth-century ring found clasped in the victim’s dead hand. This is the seventh of Lady Emily’s adventures, which began with And Only to Deceive. The next in the Lady Emily series, Behind the Shattered Glass, is due off-press in October 2013. On what Tasha has in store for her characters after that, you will have to listen to the podcast. She is a wonderful speaker: I promise you will not be disappointed. And, of course, read Death in the Floating City. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices