Podcasts about Shut

Why are your webinars packed with value but crickets at checkout? You can teach circles around your competition, but if you're not weaving in demand and trust first, you'll still struggle to make sales.  I learned this the hard way—running one webinar where I felt on fire, only to see zero sales… until a random DM popped up hours later saying, "Shut up and take my money." That moment flipped my world. It wasn't my pitch; it was my messaging, my relevancy triggers, and my ability to diagnose their exact problem. Today on the podcast, I'm pulling back the curtain on our new AI-powered messaging system by letting you in on Day 2 of our new Messaging Meets AI workshop. We've trained it on 15 years of our most successful launches and 3,000+ students so you can discover why sales actually start the second someone sees your ad—not when you pitch, build all three levels of trust (including trusting their own ability to win with you), teach powerful concepts with metaphors and stories that spark "I can do this", diagnose your audience's daily pain points so they're DMing you first, and use simple AI prompts to pull relevancy triggers and pre-empt objections. Ready to stop giving away free info and start creating real demand? Listen now and learn how to have people begging to buy—before you even open cart.  Did you enjoy this episode? I'd love it if you'd share it on Instagram and tag me @iambrandonlucero! Thank you for supporting the show.   Find me on: IG: @iambrandonlucero Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/IAmBrandonLucero  Website: https://www.brandonlucero.com 

The GI Bill fueled America's prosperity — but for Black families, it deepened inequality. I'll explain the racist design of the GI bill and what its connection is to the racial wealth gap.Following the money, we can see how a single policy helped shape the economic divide we still live with today.Click here to support Marie's work and catch up on all the new members-only episodes, which are released weekly. 

2025-2028 Roofing Market Report: https://roofmarketreport.com/ ---A $653 million roofing company just collapsed.Shut down with 48 hours notice leaving customers and over 2,500 employees in the dark.Renovo Home Services was ranked #8 on Qualified Remodeler's Top 500 list. And now… doors closed.The industry is worried that this might be a signal of what's to come.Because if it can happen to them… what does that mean for the rest of us?So I sat down with Josh Sparks, CEO of Infinity Home Services - one of the biggest private equity platforms in roofing.We're breaking down exactly what this means for the industry and your business.This is your opportunity to reassess and adapt - even grow during these uncertain times.You don't have to go at it alone.Inside the Roofing & Solar Reform Alliance, we have deep conversations like this every day.So you can see what's coming before it hits.Learn from the big mistakes others make, and build the company of tomorrow, today: https://www.rsra.org/join/=============FREE TRAINING CENTERhttps://adamsfreestuff.com/ FREE ROOFING MARKET REPORT:https://roofmarketreport.com/FREE COACHING FROM MY AI CLONEhttps://secure.rsra.org/adams-cloneJOIN THE ROOFING & SOLAR REFORM ALLIANCE (RSRA)https://www.rsra.org/join/ GET MY BOOKhttps://a.co/d/7tsW3Lx GET A ROOFING SALES JOBhttps://secure.rsra.org/find-a-job CONTACTEmail: help@rsra.orgCall/Text: 303-222-7133PODCASTApple Podcasts: https://apple.co/3fSQiev Spotify: https://bit.ly/3eMAqJe Available everywhere else :)FOLLOW ADAM BENSMANhttps://www.facebook.com/adam.bensman/   https://www.facebook.com/RoofStrategist/ https://www.instagram.com/roofstrategist/ https://www.tiktok.com/@roofstrategist https://www.linkedin.com/in/roofstrategist/#roofstrategist #roofsales #d2d  #solar #solarsales #roofing #roofer #canvassing #hail #wind #hurricane #sales #roofclaim #rsra #roofingandsolarreformalliance #reformers #adambensman

In this session, Instructors BK Spades and Novacaine discuss Hip-Hop not making the Top 40 for the 1st time in 30+ years. Which is more relevant Hip-Hop or The Billboard itself. Our duo covers many topics within the topic from lack of substance to corporate involvement diluting the source materials. Does this make hip-hop artist hungry again? Will it spark a new hip-hop renaissance? Does the community even need a corporation telling them whats hot? Who really drives the culture? We got question, questions. Last Things : Marshawn Kneeland (Dallas Cowboys Defensive end) recently took his own life. The Michael Jackson movie trailer dropped and we have thoughts. #MichaelJackson #MarshawnKneeland #DallasCowboys #BillboardTop100

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

Alexei and Talal spill the tea and get their gossip on! Get out of town! They said what about Starmer?!? You don't say! The BBC lost how many bosses?!? Shut up! What are the 5 unwavering principles of the Palestinian liberation struggle? ps. Sorry about Talal's audio quality. The numpty forgot to plug his microphone in! Be a comrade and support the show! Become a Patron and get access to the video version of the podcast, live episodes and more - patreon.com/AlexeiSaylePodcast Send your fan art, thoughts and questions to alexeisaylepodcast@gmail.com Please consider leaving us a review on Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts. Subscribe to Alexei's YouTube channel here and join him for his Bike Rides. The Alexei Sayle Podcast is produced and edited by Talal Karkouti Music by Tarboosh Records Photograph from the Andy Hollingworth Archive  

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

6-7am - Hour in full

'SHUT THE F*** UP...' - DEREK CHISORA & EDDIE HEARN GET INTO AWKWARD INTERVIEW / EUBANK JR v BENN Don't miss Eubank Jr vs Benn 2, November 15th, only on DAZN. Click here to buy the PPV and get a 7-day free trial: https://www.dazn.com/ifltv Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Lester Kiewit speaks to Merlize Jogiat, Operations and Advocacy Co-Ordinator at Women For Change, about their call for women and members of the LGBTQI+ to shut down the economy on November 21 in an effort to draw the world’s attention to South Africa’s horrific femicide rate and GBV cases. Good Morning Cape Town with Lester Kiewit is a podcast of the CapeTalk breakfast show. This programme is your authentic Cape Town wake-up call. Good Morning Cape Town with Lester Kiewit is informative, enlightening and accessible. The team’s ability to spot & share relevant and unusual stories make the programme inclusive and thought-provoking. Don’t miss the popular World View feature at 7:45am daily. Listen out for #LesterInYourLounge which is an outside broadcast – from the home of a listener in a different part of Cape Town - on the first Wednesday of every month. This show introduces you to interesting Capetonians as well as their favourite communities, habits, local personalities and neighbourhood news. Thank you for listening to a podcast from Good Morning Cape Town with Lester Kiewit. Listen live on Primedia+ weekdays between 06:00 and 09:00 (SA Time) to Good Morning CapeTalk with Lester Kiewit broadcast on CapeTalk https://buff.ly/NnFM3Nk For more from the show go to https://buff.ly/xGkqLbT or find all the catch-up podcasts here https://buff.ly/f9Eeb7i Subscribe to the CapeTalk Daily and Weekly Newsletters https://buff.ly/sbvVZD5 Follow us on social media CapeTalk on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CapeTalk CapeTalk on TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@capetalk CapeTalk on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ CapeTalk on X: https://x.com/CapeTalk CapeTalk on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CapeTalk567See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Did you know there's MAGIC in your Meditation Practice? Say Goodbye to Anxiety and Hello to More Peace & More Prosperity! Here Are the 5 Secrets on How to Unleash Your Meditation Magic https://womensmeditationnetwork.com/5secrets Hey, it's Katie and I want to welcome you to this special bonus episode. It'll be here for you completely ad-free for the next week so you can get a feel of what it's like to be a PREMIUM member. If you'd like an easy ad-free experience for all of our podcasts - that's over 200 episodes each month, then JOIN PREMIUM today at https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium When your heart begins to race, And your head begins to spin.  When the hurricane of emotions, Blows outside and within.  PAUSE… When frustration takes hold, And tension tightens you up. Your words and your demeanor,  Can become really corrupt.  PAUSE… Just take a deep breath, At the moment you want to shout. Shut out the noise, And invite peace throughout. Join our Premium Sleep for Women Channel on Apple Podcasts and get ALL 5 of our Sleep podcasts completely ad-free! Join Premium now on Apple here --> https://bit.ly/sleepforwomen Join our Premium Meditation for Kids Channel on Apple Podcasts and get ALL 5 of our Kids podcasts completely ad-free! Join Premium now on Apple here → https://bit.ly/meditationforkidsapple I'm so glad you're taking the time to be with us today. My team and I are dedicated to making sure you have all the meditations you need throughout all the seasons of your life. If there's a meditation you desire, but can't find, email us at hello@womensmeditationnetwork.com to make a request. We'd love to create what you want! Namaste, Beautiful,

Reddit rSlash Storytime r traumatizethemback where I told you not to press hard. I am a betrayer of the white race My English Teacher was Gonna Tell My Dad He Wasn't My Hero My wife won't stand up, but she will shut you down The time my baby sister took down grandpa "Friend" won't stop pushing my childfree boundaries, I'll ruin your freaking dinner. The time I traumatized a nosy neighbor with kindness and boredom A stranger put her hand on my pregnant wife's belly. I breastfeed NICU babies. Karen says it's creepy. I Used Full Frontal Exposure To Stop My Mother's Verbal Abuse. For Good. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Singapore’s seen a wave of sudden business shutdowns, from cupcake chains to art firms, leaving workers jobless and unpaid overnight. But why are employees always the last to know, and can anything stop these overnight collapses from happening again? On The Big Story, Hongbin Jeong speaks to Clarence Ding, a partner at law firm Ashurst, to find out more. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In today's episode, I'm talking about boundaries that grow capacity. Many of us grew up believing we were responsible for everyone else's emotions. We learned to stay quiet, stay polite, and keep everyone happy. Unfortunately, those patterns often show up later as burnout, resentment, or the quiet ache of always being available for everyone but ourselves.Boundaries don't have to mean permanence or walls that never come down; they're more like fences with gates. Boundaries that grow capacity can be uncomfortable at first, but over time, that discomfort turns into peace and regrowth.In this episode, I cover:How to recognize when your body is signaling the need for a boundaryWhy so many of us were conditioned to feel responsible for other people's emotionsHow guilt, burnout & resentment often show up when boundaries are missingThe difference between compassion and carrying someone else's emotional loadWhy boundaries are more like fences with gates than walls or distanceHow boundaries help grow your capacity + protect your energyThe connection between boundaries & healing (for you and your loved ones) Make sure to hit subscribe/follow so you never miss an episode! Find the complete show notes here: https://terryndrieling.com/boundaries-that-grow-capacityConnect with Terryn:Follow on Instagram @terryn.drielingCheck out my websiteSend me an email at terryn@terryndrieling.comResources & Links:Episode 36: Boundaries Are KindEpisode 93: Family Dynamics and Emotional Healing with Paige DulaneyEpisode 102: Stop Carrying Everyone Else's Healing: Do the Work for You FirstJoin the waitlist for the Good Movement CollectiveGood Movement music by: Aaron EspePodcast produced by: Jill Carr Podcasting

It suddenly dawned on me that the image on the stairs was not an advertisement but part of the exhibition I was on my way to see. If I hadn't known, I'd have thought they were ads for some kind of clothing line or vitamins or something. The images were lovely but the context troubled me. It continues to trouble me so I thought I better write about it to try and work out why.To keep reading ⁠⁠⁠A Blurry Line Between Art and Advertising visit the Songs for the Struggling Artist blog. This is Episode 472Song: Sidewalks of New York⁠Image by Pete SouzaTo support this podcast:Give it 5 stars in Apple Podcasts. Write a nice review!Rate it wherever you listen or via: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://ratethispodcast.com/strugglingartist⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Join my mailing list: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.emilyrainbowdavis.com/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Like on Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.facebook.com/SongsfortheStrugglingArtist/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Support me on Patreon: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.patreon.com/emilyrdavis⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Or on Kofi: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠http://ko-fi.com/emilyrainbowdavis⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠or PayPal: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.paypal.me/strugglingartist⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Join my Substack: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://emilyrainbowdavis.substack.com/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Follow me on Twitter ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@erainbowd⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠On Mastodon - @erainbowd@podvibes.coOn Blue sky - @erainbowd.bsky.social⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ and ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Pinterest⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Listen to The Dragoning ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠here⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ and The Defense ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠here⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. You can support them via Ko-fi here: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://ko-fi.com/messengertheatrecompany⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠As ever, I am yours,Emily Rainbow DavisExplicit due to "Shut. The F*ck. Up."

Verse by verse study through the book of Acts Chapter Five and Verse Twenty Three

Pastor Erina continues our sermon series on Revelation by preaching on the letter to the church in Philadelphia and reflecting on the encouragement they receive for their faithfulness, even in the face of human exclusion. How might Jesus' words encourage those who have been shut out of community due to their obedience?

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

Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 30 Time For Celebrating! In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels.   When I fell to Earth I realized perfection; Earth has everything while Heaven has no Evil. "Ask Belle," I replied. "This fight was for me being allowed on the bed. You still need to pay for breaking into her room." "What?" Leigh squeaked. "Come here, Slut," Belle laughed. She hooked an arm around Leigh's waist from behind and began dragging her back into the house. "Zane?" Leigh called out fearfully. "Coming, coming," I groaned. "I feel like someone dropped a cinderblock on my head, and my ribs." I staggered for the door only to be intercepted by Willa. "You are one freaking weird dude," she whispered. "You have no idea," I responded softly. As she came alongside, I put my arm around her waist, then down inside her panties, and cupped her right ass cheek. I gave it a good squeeze. I figure Willa could pull away or punch me in my sore ribs. Instead, she bumped my hip and put her head on my shoulder. "Have you ever been with another woman?" I asked. "No," she regarded me. "Willing to experiment?" I teased her. She smiled, snaked a hand along my back to my neck and finally grabbed a handful of hair. She pulled me down into a kiss and finished with her own devilish grin. I took that to be a yes. We made our way back to Belle's room, where Belle and I stripped out of our wet clothes. "You don't have to handcuff me," Leigh begged of Belle. "I'll behave." "I know you'll be a good girl, but I don't care. I'll do it because I want to," Belle taunted her. Leigh pouted and looked my way. I shrugged helplessly in response. She stripped, crawled to the middle of the bed, rolled onto her back, and put her wrists together just below her breasts. "I'd rather fight than be a victim," Belle mocked her as the bindings clicked shut. "No, that's some cock, you skank," Leigh wound up her courage. Belle's response was to retrieve the vibrator and turn it on. "Calling me a skank makes you feel tough, eh?" Belle closed in. The vibrator began rubbing against Leigh's thighs as I settled into the bed behind Belle. Willa resumed her position on the far side after she stripped down. Belle gave me a curious look over her shoulder before turning back to Leigh. I snuggled into Belle before nibbling and sucking on her neck and shoulder. As Belle pushed the vibrator between Leigh's labia, I ran my left arm down Belle's back and parted her ass cheeks. I could feel Belle look over her shoulder again, my lips were sucking on her shoulder at that moment, and visually question what I thought I was doing. I could sense a struggle going through her mind by the increased tenseness of her shoulders. She had to be deciding if she would let me distract her or not. A moment later she made up her mind; she bent her leg and pulled her knee toward her chest to make my access to her easier. I scooted farther down so I could move my hand below her ass and begin stroking her cunt, back to front. Belle wiggled the vibrator inside Leigh's cunt as my fingers worked her over. She kept it going until she felt my cock pushing past her ass cheeks. Belle didn't caution me about her anus; she didn't have to. When my cockhead touched her cunt, Belle responded by looking back at me, daring me to stick it in. "Do you want me to stop, Belle?" I gazed into her eyes. Belle's response was to suddenly push down on my cock, pushing it half way in with one thrust. "Fuck," she hissed. I grabbed her hip and finished driving my rod all the way in. I quickly withdrew, then slammed it home again. At the same time, I moved my right hand, pinned underneath me, under Belle's body, until I burrowed to her pelvis. Belle began humming as my hand reached her slender landing strip. I also noticed that her activity with Leigh had lightened up. Her cunt walls strongly massaged my cock's passage and the stimulation was soaking up more and more of Belle's attention. The vibrator cut off. Belle had dropped it so she could start pulling and pinching her breasts as my four fingers began to vigorously rub her clit. For five minutes I kept going at her sideways until she grabbed the sheets so she could shove her body into mine and almost pushed me off the bed. Her climax seized her, her breath came in short gasps and tremors passed from her body to mine. "Damn it," Belle cursed. It took me a moment to figure out what she was pissed about. She began thrusting back against me. "Still hard, huh?" she growled. Why, yes I was, but I wasn't going to tease her about it. I missed the visual exchange between Willa and Belle but the end result was Belle giving in, letting Leigh off the hook. "I'm getting on top, Zane," Belle demanded. What proceeded was a bit of bedroom acrobatics but I kept my cock inside as I moved towards the bed's center while Belle swung up to a reverse cowgirl position. I pushed up, palms on the bed behind me, and watched her ass begin to bounce on my lap. At first, Belle rested her hands on my shins and used that to balance her rocking and thrusting of the hips. "Don't, Zane," Belle panted as I pressed my chest against her back. When I wrapped my arms around her, she made one last protest. "Oh, damn you." I hugged Belle tight, my left arm around her stomach and the right around her chest. She slowed down for a few seconds before turning her upper body so that we could kiss. Our tongues flickered against each other, then slowly danced back and forth between our mouths. "I really should bite you right now," Belle sighed. "What the hell for?" I muttered. "I'm going to have to look across the room now and find a reason for not jumping your bones, you idiot," she breathed in short bursts. "Someone likes being 'Zaned'," Leigh teased. Willa slapped her somewhere; I couldn't see where. "Shut up unless you want to be tied up all night," Willa whispered. I was busy letting my hands migrate over Belle's tight body now that I had 'permission' to sex her up. I let Belle lean into me. Her hands cupped her breasts while my hands went from her shoulders to the top of the tits but avoided the nipples. I skated around her upper chest, linking my hands over her pulsing abdomen then lightly traveling down to her thighs. "You are not in a hurry," Belle observed breathlessly. "It is our first time," I reminded her. "Oh," was all she had to say. Her body rubbing against me was her real reply. It was with gradual ease that we upped our tempo until Belle finally 'gave it up' again. This time I came with her, and I completely spaced about a condom, again. Belle writhed her body against mine for almost a minute as we regained our composure and our breaths. "You came in me, didn't you?" Belle said seriously. "Yeah, I screwed up. I'm sorry," I groaned. "What are we going to name our kid?" Belle showed a tiny bit of mirth. "I'm partial to Beausephus if it is a boy," I told her as I kissed her neck, "and Andromeda if it is a girl." "Our kid is going to kick ass," Belle laughed. "Aren't you on the pill?" Leigh wondered. "Listen, you stupid Cunt," Belle twisted on my semi-rigid cock so she could lock eyes with Leigh, "do I look like I can afford Healthcare?" "Answer me, Bitch," Belle began wiggling off my lap and out of my arms. "Let it go," I begged Belle. "Don't think that just because you have my cock in my cunt, that makes me your bitch," Belle growled to me. "As your friend, I'm asking you to drop, 'my cock'?" I hesitated. "Just because MY cock is in your cunt doesn't make it your cock," I teased. "Crap, slip of the tongue," Belle mumbled. "It's okay," both Leigh and I said. "Several of our girls feel that way," Leigh added. "We feel possessive about that cock." "What she said," I finished. "That's why when it is not attached, I keep it in a locked box." Belle snorted and Willa and Leigh laughed. "You went with the detachable cock?" Belle stared at me. "That's so sad." "Hey, now," I blushed. "I have a horny naked biker babe sitting in my lap, with my cock in her cunt. I'm a little shaken up right now." "You can be real trying at times," Belle leaned into me compassionately. "What? You said you wanted me to try your ass?" I joked. "Okay." Belle's vaginal muscles constricted around my cock, exciting me to hardness again. "You rip up my ass and I'm going to rip off your balls," Belle grinned shark-like. "Your? No, I meant Willa's ass," I verbally back-pedaled. "Look, she's sitting there, ass up looking all inviting, lush, and full-formed." "You wouldn't dare," Willa smirked at me. By her own accounts, Willa loved anal sex, but apparently it wasn't something she normally shared. Belle's instincts were leading her past the deception. "Are you freaky, Willa?" Belle mocked her friend. "Hey," Leigh piped up. "Barbie Lynn likes it and she's no freak." I rolled onto my side, trying to let Belle slide off my shaft. "Am I going somewhere?" Belle turned and joked with me. I shrugged, put my left hand on her shoulder and pumped into her hard several times. "Okay, okay," Belle panted. "Go bang Willa. My cunt is still tingling from the last orgasm, Stud." Belle twisted onto her stomach which allowed my cock to pop free. Belle moaned sensually and lay there for a minute with her eyes closed. Dangerously, Leigh crawled over Belle's still form, retrieved something from Belle's nightstand, and handed it to me, lube. Leigh must have seen Belle pull it out and lube up the vibrator before shoving it in. Belle wasn't a total sadist. I slipped beside Willa who kept drinking me in with her eyes. "Where do you think you are going with that?" she said. Willa remained on her stomach, her ass proudly pointing up and proffered. "Would you like to try anal?" I winked. "I'm sure if you try it, you'll like it." "This won't make me your Old Lady," Willa teased back. "I'll try it. Let's see what you've got." "I only want to make you happy," I breathed into her ear. Willa shivered in anticipation. I brushed her hair to the far side of her head then kissed the top of her neck. Willa began to murmur pleasurably as I trailed butterfly kisses down her spine to her tailbone. A single finger stroked farther down to her cunt and down to her pubic mound. Willa was only lightly shaved, keeping her bush full. The return trip lingered around her anus, pushing slightly and making Willa moan. She opened her legs farther and farther apart as I continued to rub her gently. With my free hand, I opened the tube of lubricant and let it pour down her ass cheeks. I teased her sphincter twice but abandoned it to rub the thick liquid all over her cunt and perineum. Recall that Willa was going through a long, dry spell -- being an undercover officer in an outlaw biker gang, so she was bursting at the seams for sexual contact. "Damn it, Zane," she pleaded. "Willa, you are a freak," Belle chuckled. "Watching him work has gotten me so horny," Leigh whined. I ignored the peanut gallery; I was dripping oil on my three middle fingers, pushing my forefinger against Willa's sphincter. Willa must have really liked her experiences with anal sex because she relaxed her sphincter on contact and let me in. Man, her asshole felt hot compared to the slight chill of the room. My finger corkscrewed past the second knuckle when Willa let out another heartfelt moan. I pushed in a little farther while resuming my kisses on her back. Inside a minute, Leigh had sidled up to Willa and me. Belle had propped herself up with her pillow on the headboard but was studying the three of us intently. "You are acting like you've never seen a three-way before," I commented to Belle. "Not from the outside looking in," Belle shrugged. I had no immediate comeback to that. Saying something like 'maybe next time,' or 'enjoy the show' felt inappropriate. I devoted my attentions to Willa once more instead. Speaking of Willa, she was now relaxed enough for me to stick my ring finger into her anus. I noticed Leigh getting terribly interested in Willa's arousal. "Willa, rise up. Push up off the mattress for me, Babe," I coaxed Willa. She looked back at me, smiled lustfully, and began raising her ass. A few more twist and turns with my fingers and Willa was up on all fours, head down, and her face screened from view by her long, black hair. I was about to encourage Leigh but she was already slipping under Willa and putting her lips to Willa's closest tit. Willa's grunt rose over the sound of Leigh's suckling noise. I had to move completely to Willa's rear to allow Leigh more room to maneuver beneath Willa. Leigh's right hand quickly sought out Willa's cunt while her left began caressing Willa's right breast. I had to admire Leigh's enthusiasm as well as her willingness to not hold Belle's rough treatment against Willa. Belle began to rub her cunny as she watched us play. I also caught Willa shake her head ecstatically when I wormed my third finger into her butthole. "Someone's all excited," Leigh giggled, as she lifted up her fingers that had been in Willa's cunt for me to inspect. They weren't just slick; they dripped with her juices. Finally, Willa had enough. "Enough foreplay, Zane," she gasped. "Put that big cock in me. Stick it to me now." "Ask and you shall receive," I replied. With one hand on her hip and the other one on my rod I placed my throbbing cockhead against her mildly gaping sphincter. I could literally feel the breath slowly exhale from Willa's body as my cock first slipped inside her anal cavity. "Zane, Zane, Zane," she exulted softly as I inched my way inside her rectum. I had been wrong all this time; I had thought I'd never find someone who liked anal sex as much as Barbie Lynn, but here she was. She was tight, hot, and damp. By the snug fit I could tell she had abstained for some time but her reactions were pure pleasure, to me and her. I could also feel Leigh's fingers vibrating rapidly within Willa's cunt as well as her vaginal muscles squeezing them back. I let my penis sit there for a moment before withdrawing all but the head. I repeated this three times, with Willa moaning louder each time I thrust my deepest. "Hammer her," Belle demanded. "Her ass, her rules," I chastised the head Warlord Babe. "Hammer me, Zane," Willa virtually screamed. O-kay then, a hammering I will go. I plunged in without mercy. The first thrust nearly toppled her over but on the second one, I held her hips tightly and she pushed back to meet my attack. The loud smacking of skin began to echo throughout the room. "Don't, stop, un, til, you, fill, me, up," Willa gasped between lighting swift penetrations. I felt like my hips were moving in a blur. Willa's whole body was a mass of spasms beneath me. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Willa gasped, then she squealed. Yes, squealed like a little school girl. I didn't relent, though. She had told me to keep going, so 'hi-ho, hi-ho, it was off to fuck I go'. I caught sight of an exhausted Willa turning her head sideways and mouthing something to Belle through her mass of hair. Belle tilted her head, then shook it in the negative. "No, you can't keep him," she explained to Willa but for my benefit. "Too many people know he's here. Wait until you get Zane alone before you take him." "Hey! That's our line," Leigh spoke up indignantly. "Kappa Sig property." "You had better put those lips back to work on Willa before I put this vibrator back to work on you," Belle threatened. Leigh huffed, then went back to lip-smacking Willa's tit. "Shit, shit, shit," then a squeal from Willa once more. Damn, that had been a fast one. After that, Willa went down to her elbows, smothering Leigh with her tit. Leigh responded by going hog-wild on the whole breast biting and chewing on the whole damn thing. "Jesus Christ!" Willa howled, followed quickly by the loudest squeal of them all. Her body contractions dissipated what remained of my self-control. I began ejaculating, grinding my hips hard into her ass and plunging to the farthest depths yet. Willa collapsed in a state of perpetual groaning. Belle was kind enough to pull Leigh free before I collapsed on Willa. I barely had the strength to prop myself up on my elbows so as not to crush Willa beneath me. "Willa," Belle mused, "you really are full of surprises." If only she knew, or maybe it was better that she didn't know. It took a physically devastated Willa several seconds to reply. "You aren't going to give me shit about this in front of the other girls, are you?" she asked. Willa was a probationary Warlord so her reputation was incredibly vulnerable. "Yeah; let me see," Belle ticked off events; while massaging Leigh's half-raised leg from knee to inner thigh, "From the sounds of it he nailed Fontana Palmer thrice; before coming up here, kicking my ass, then fucking me so good all the lights came on. Then he rolled you over and plowed your ass through three orgasms, no." "They'll strap Zane down to the pool table for one hell of a weekend," Belle pointed out. "All the guys will resent him for that, so they'll bust him up and put him in the hospital where he can't perform for a month. Then the female riot ensues. I don't need that kind of hassle." "Thanks for looking out for me," I mocked. "Eh, you are almost a friend," Belle smiled. "Okay, on that note I'm going to take Leigh and leave," I began getting out of bed. Leigh had enough common sense to look to Belle for permission before climbing over Belle's legs and hopping free. "Try to keep the noise down," Belle teased as I opened the door. "I think Leigh's cunt has been abused enough for one night," I shook my head. "We are going downstairs to cuddle." "Nah-uh," Leigh said as she grabbed my hand. "Penetration, orgasm, cuddle; that's the way it's going to go." "No, wait," Leigh corrected herself. "Penetration, orgasm, orgasm, cuddle is how it's going to go." I'm sure Willa and Belle heard my groan of despair as I shut their door. "Leigh, your cunt looks much abused," I told her. "How about we not have sex tonight?" "After all I went through, please," she begged. "How about we have a sex-date later this week," I suggested. "I want to spend some time with you," Leigh pouted. "Leigh, I have Fall Break this week," I informed her. "We can have as much time as you like." "You do?" Leigh visibly perked up. "Oh, thank God," she then moaned. "I can barely walk, I'm so sore." "Do you still want to cuddle?" I asked. "I'd love to, Zane," she sighed, as she put her arm around my waist. "I want you to know that if it wasn't for Tawny, we really would keep you as our sex slave," she added lovingly. Yay me. "That's it," I snarled. "I'm going to go over there one night, tie all of you up, and butt-fuck the lot of you." "Oh, that sounds like fun," Leigh giggled. "Would we be tied up side by side so we could watch you do it to the sister next to us?" "Are you taking freak lessons from Rio?" I wondered. "Because you are starting to scare me." "Nope. Frankly, with the way she wields that strap-on, she kind of scares us," Leigh confessed. Ah, an unlooked for benefit of my Direct-to-Video lifestyle; I have provided the World with a warning label for Rio. Speaking of Rio, when we arrived at the sofa we discovered that she'd crawled up on it and was fast asleep again. I draped my blanket over her then curled up with Leigh in the quilt I had originally taken out for Rio. I lay down on my back and Leigh curled up on top of me. She started to say something to me but was overtaken by a yawn. She put her ear to my chest, yawned again then started snoring. I must have nodded off right after that because the next thing I knew Jill was shaking us awake gently. "Leigh," she inquired, "are you staying for breakfast?" "Sure, Aunt Jill," she yawned. "Let me get cleaned up and I'll help out in the kitchen." "Thank you, dear," Jill grinned. Leigh scampered off to the bathroom while Jill went to the kitchen. Rio was blissfully asleep still. I followed Jill into the kitchen and leaned against the counter while she soaked a paper towel under the faucet. "Did you sleep well last night?" I questioned. "Oh, Zane," Jill smiled serenely, "I learned to sleep through your antics several weeks ago." She dabbed my cheek, the one Belle had popped last night. It stung but I manned-up and took my mothering like a big boy. I made sure the ladies upstairs were awake before doubling back on my room to get dressed for Church. Fontana and Valarie propped themselves up and took in the show. As I was making sure my tie looked good in the mirror, I caught Fontana smacking her daughter in the forehead. "Sleep with that young man, damn it," she advised forcefully. "Subtle, Mom," Valarie groused back. "I mean, he's standing right there." "What do you think, Zane?" Fontana chuckled. "Do you mind me giving my daughter some helpful advice?" "I'm not going to step into that conversation, Fontana," I evaded, "and Val, that was a mean thing you did to Leigh. Belle was unforgiving." "She should learn to use a door like a normal person," Valarie smirked. "I am just warning you that Belle is particular about her private space," I cautioned her. "Valarie, you should clear the air with Belle," Fontana advised her daughter. "This is her home too and her territory." "I'll take care of it," Valarie yawned then shrugged. I had the feeling she wasn't taking this seriously. "Let's get some food, Mom. I still need to get dressed for Church too." Oh, Valarie didn't know the half of it, but I managed to keep Rio and her from ragging on Belle when they learned that Belle had lost a 'bet' with me and had to wear a dress to church along with the rest of them. Rio turned out to be hangover proof. Jill cooked up a wonderful breakfast and Leigh received her measure of revenge when she, Belle, and I had to go over to the Kappa Sigma house to find a dress that fit. Oh, those sorority girls were walking a thin line between cordiality and an ass-whooping because Belle wasn't in the mood to take shit from anyone. Tawny was a big help and Jersey provided the acceptable black dress for Belle to wear. Ricky provided the stockings and shoes. "The first one to say a damn thing dies," Belle glared at the assembly back at my house when she walked in the door. Jill must have missed that. When she came downstairs and saw Belle, she walked up and hugged her. "You look beautiful, Belle," Jill said while examining her. "Ah, thanks, Jill," Belle looked around evasively. Had anyone else said or done that, we would have died. Jill received a weak smile instead. Belle ended up in Sunday school class with Jill, who introduced her as Belle Kennan -- and no one made the connection despite Belle's constant scowl. Rio bringing Belle around to the Masters clan did something to ameliorate the situation. Suddenly having the young unattached males of the church pay attention to her was something Belle found downright darkly amusing. Rio was running around, introducing Belle as her Aunt from Michigan -- very single and clearly well-connected. Rochelle Wellington was the only one to figure out the ruse and she said nothing. Once we got home, Belle couldn't wait to be shed of those clothes. I took them back to the Kappa Sigmas with my gratitude for helping out yet again. When I came back I found Belle standing alone on the back porch. "Penny for your thoughts," I said. "I really ought to punch your lights out for putting me through that," she opened up. "I fucked three of those guys in high school and they didn't even recognize me now. I was in a pretty dress, a touch of make-up, and hung around with rich friends and; BANG; suddenly I wasn't the poor, dirty tramp in their eyes anymore." "Who gives a crap what they think or remember?" I countered. "You are still the same unique you no matter how you dress." Calling Belle beautiful was pointless, true but pointless, because she would have read that as me trying to get back into her pants. "You've never wanted for anything in your life," she mused. "What the fuck?" I rounded on her. "Bitch, for two years I only got to take showers when it rained; forget having any deodorant, and for amusement we played tag with pythons because we only had electricity when someone was pedaling the bicycle." She rounded on me with an angry rebuttal but immediately burst out laughing. "Yeah," she snickered, "and I finally got it out of Jill what a bad little monkey you were too. She told me you had 30 girlfriends and would screw around behind Tim's back all the time. You were a slut too." "Where? Belle, look around you," I grinned. "I am still a slut and proud of it." "Fuck you," she smiled. "Here I was getting worked up into a true fury and you come along and cheer me up." "That's what friends are for," I quipped. "I should have shoved Rio's head down that toilet," Belle teased. "You really complicate my life. Let's go in and grab a bite before we get all mushy." That First Time Fontana wasn't leaving until the morning so Valarie decided to spend another night at my place. I didn't want another night on the sofa so I opted for Rio and me to crash out in my dorm for the night. Vivian would be gone for the week; I hoped she would be spending quality time with her boyfriend Thomas. Barbie Lynn would be around once she saw her family off, but Opal, Brandi, and Paige, plus Christina and company, were gone for the week. They were all due back Saturday afternoon. The dark lining to this silver cloud was that both Paige and Heaven were; 'needy', and that didn't bode well for my Saturday night upon their return. That left us with twelve other girls on my floor tonight, one of which was Iona. She had decided that her time was better spent keeping Rio and me in line than being bored out of her skull back in her hometown. I was sure the fact that we would have a good deal of unobstructed time together had nothing to do with it. Iona was cuddled up with me on my right side on the large sofa closest to my bedroom screens. On my left, Rio was slouched down, channel surfing. She never stayed on any program long enough to see if it was any good. She was bored and angry. I was peripherally aware of someone activating the door and coming up but I wasn't paying too much attention until I noticed someone standing there and looking around for somebody. It was Mercy. I could hardly believe it. Our eyes met and she shrugged in confusion. She couldn't see Rio because my buddy's head was below the top of the back of the sofa. I surreptitiously moved my left arm over the top and then pointed down to where she was. Mercy's eyes lit up and she skipped on over, her bouncing proving to me she was braless. Rio was in such a foul mood, she didn't notice, so Mercy began leaning over until her shadow interfered with the suspended lighting. Finally, Rio rotated her face up to see what the problem was and looked right into Mercy's eyes. "Hey, you," Rio sounded remarkably nonchalant. "Hello, Rio," Mercy grinned hopefully. "I convinced my parents that I had to stay." "That's nice," Rio shrugged. Considering all the hell Rio had put me through during Homecoming and this weekend about Mercy being gone, I wanted to start punching her. "I wore my collar all weekend," she indicated the collar Rio (me, really) got her that had the school colors but Rio's initials on it. "I expressly forbid you from doing anything that might tip your parents off," Rio shook her head. "Simple fucking instructions and you manage to screw that up," she sighed. "I'm going to have to spank that kitty, aren't I?" Mercy's smile grew absolutely wanton. "I bet you are not wearing underwear, you tramp," Rio looked put out. "I seem to have lost them on the way over here," Mercy beamed. "Really? 'I lost them' is the best you can come up with? Give me some nipple-age, damn it," Rio insisted. Mercy bent over farther while Rio unbuttoned Mercy's shirt. "Remember, I'm only biting and sucking on these bad babies because you've been naughty, not because I enjoy it," Rio informed Mercy as she wiggled up to meet those naked breasts half way. "Okay," Mercy sighed happily as the first dangling breast went into Rio's mouth and her lips sucked the nipple in so her tongue could abuse it. Rio alternated between Mercy's tits, slurping and nibbling but not really biting down, as promised. She also reached up and grabbed her lover's shoulders, pulling her farther and farther. I was sure Mercy's feet had come off the ground. I would have looked but Iona took that moment to begin massaging my thigh. I looked to her; she was looking over at Rio and Mercy when Mercy started tumbling head first onto the sofa. Rio rolled Mercy onto her back, her skirt bunching up around her waist to reveal her baby-smooth cunt. "You are my bitch, Bitch," Rio growled as she pressed down on Mercy and tried to kiss her. "No, no," Mercy giggled as she kicked her heels, shook her head from side to side in an effort to avoid the kiss. "Please, let me go. I don't want to be kissed, or licked, or spanked, or have my body abused all week long. No, that would be horrible. Please, please, please, release me. I'll be good. I won't tell a soul about the terrible things you have planned for me." Rio hovered there, clearly in shock. "Why you rebellious little slut," Rio gasped. "Oh, I'm going to ream your ass for that little outburst." "Eeep!" Mercy squeaked. "Move that butt to the boudoir, you skanky whore," Rio pulled Mercy off the sofa, then spanked her bottom. Mercy looked over her shoulder fearfully and hurried that way with Rio in hot pursuit. Iona stood up, pulled on my arm and led my gaze to their retreating forms. "You want to join them?" I questioned. "I want to watch," Iona clarified. "They are so much in love; it is a beautiful thing to witness." "That it is," I agreed as I stood up as well. I led her toward my bedroom, Iona squeezing my hand tightly. "Also, getting naked under the covers with you has its own appeal," Iona gave me a cute, hopeful look. "What makes you think I'll get naked?" I teased. "Well, Zane, you are my friend, and you're easy," she teased right back. Ouch! "I prefer easily accessible, thank you very much," I stated indignantly. "Have you been taking etiquette lessons from Rio?" "Zane," Iona pouted. "That was unfair. I'd never abuse you the way Rio does, or Barbie Lynn, or Paige, or Heaven." As we rounded the last turn in the Chinese screen maze that separated my sleeping quarters from the rest of the floor, Rio was pushing Mercy face-first onto her (Rio's) side of the bed. Rio squatted behind Mercy. Mercy's torso was on the bed but her legs were still splayed over the edge. Rio probed forward, took a lick of that cunt, then another, before spanking Mercy's right cheek. "Has anybody else been using what is mine?" Rio inquired threateningly. Mercy shook her head violently in the negative. "Are you sure?" Rio persisted. "You are pretty clueless. Someone might have sexed you up while telling you they were doing your taxes, or something stupid like that. Did you let someone do your taxes?" Again Mercy shook her head 'no'. "Well ,  I don't trust you," Rio mused. "Zane, come over here." By this time, I was naked, I take off my clothes really fast because I hang around with some impatient women, and Iona was down to her socks and panties. "Sure," I responded. I walked around the bed until I was looking over Rio's shoulder. "Does this cunt and asshole look used to you?" Rio asked me. I reached out and with my forefinger, rubbed along Mercy's slit, starting with her clit. It was still a small nub but a few circles by my finger brought her out to play. Mercy moaned, wiggling her hips as she did. I scooped up from there, dipping between her labia until her fluids coated my fingers. I brought the finger up for a taste. "Yum," I grinned at Rio, who double-pumped her eyebrows and smiled like the madwoman she was. I stuck my finger back in Mercy's cunt to get it nice and wet again, causing Mercy to moan repeatedly. This time, I placed my finger against her anus. I rubbed it around but didn't try to press it in. The moment Mercy decided I wasn't going to give it to her, she thrust back, trying to drive my probing digit inside of her anyway. Rio smacked Mercy's ass to make her stop. "No, you don't, Wench," Rio threatened. "Rio, your baby-girl is pristine, she's nice and tight," I informed my buddy. "Thanks, Zane," Rio snickered. "I can never tell with this slut, she's always so horny. Or maybe I'm always so horny for her, I get those confused." "How about option three: you both are hot, horny babes addicted to each other's bodies?" I offered. "I really don't care what Mercy feels," Rio lied. "She's only serves as a vessel for my lusts. Don't you exist to be solely a receptacle for my lusts, Slut-Bunny?" Mercy slid down the bed until her knees touched the ground. She turned around to the less than amused Rio, waddled up to her lover and wrapped her arms around Rio's waist, hugging her tight. "Yes, yes, yes," Mercy murmured contentedly. "What the, listen, you sk- --" Rio started out angrily. She never finished calling Mercy a 'skank'. She hesitantly, then gently, ran her fingers through Mercy's hair. "I missed you so much, I was going nuts without you; just ask Zane," Rio gave her heartfelt confession. "Rio," Mercy looked up as Rio petted her head, "I've given this a lot of thought and I want you to be my first, tonight, right now," Mercy pleaded. Rio's eyes shot a panicked look in my direction. 'You can handle this,' I mouthed my assurance to my Best Buddy. Rio returned her gaze to Mercy and tilted her lover's head up until their eyes met. "You know there is no coming back from this," Rio stated. Mercy nodded. "This will make you mine forever," Rio said next. Mercy nodded with greater vigor. "You know I am a complete fucking train-wreck and am more likely to ruin your whole damn life than make you happy." "I am yours and you are mine," Mercy whispered, mimicking the tattoo Rio had placed on Mercy's back. "I can't do this," Rio stroked Mercy's cheek. Mercy looked devastated. "We are both wearing clothes, how can we properly make love if we are both still wearing clothes?" Mercy gawked, then shoved her face into Rio's stomach and bit down, hard, it appeared. "Ow, Bitch!" Rio screamed. "That hurt." "Rio, you nearly scared me to death." Mercy sounded so pitiful as she looked back up at Rio. I really had no idea how Rio's twisted, crazy mind would take that. For a second, I thought she'd explode, Rio didn't take pain like a rational person. "I apologize, Love. I have no excuse," Rio responded softly. She even used the 'L' word. "Really?" Mercy whispered. Rio nodded. "Will you do me one favor?" "Okay," Rio replied cautiously. "Please never apologize to me again, my Love," Mercy pleaded. "It scares me nearly as much as you being mean to me a moment ago." Rio studied Mercy for a few seconds. "Did you use the 'L' word?" Rio glared at Mercy. Mercy's eyes grew wide; she then buried her face back into Rio's stomach and began kissing away. "No, you don't, Wench. I will not be mollified by your sloppy, wet kisses. Strip your ass down and get into bed. Mom is going to go primeval on every inch of your smoking hot Temple of Babylon." Mercy smiled, spun around, and quick-stepped as fast as she could back to the bed while still on her knees. Rio flashed me a look that spoke of a happiness I had never seen in her before. She was slipping out of her skirt as she hopped her way to her dresser, undoubtedly to get some toys. As for me, I crawled past Mercy and slipped under the covers held open by Iona. "Should we leave?" Iona whispered to me. "Mercy is somewhat of an exhibitionist and I doubt Rio cares," I answered quietly. "In that case, let me get close to Mercy in case she needs some comforting," Iona told me under her breath. Before I could reason that out, she snuck her naked, tight little body over mine and slid under the covers to be close to Mercy. Iona reached out a hand tentatively toward Mercy. Mercy regarded it, gave Iona a warm smile, and placed her fingers in Iona's palm. Rio affixed her modest-sized strap-on and lubed it up before walking over to Mercy. Her lover seemed entranced with the way the false phallus bobbed about as it approached her. Rio threw back the blanket roughly so she could gaze down at Mercy's beautiful naked form. Instinctively, Mercy began to move her knees up to her chest. "What's that?" Rio pointed to Mercy's hand being held by Iona. Mercy started to withdraw it when, "Did I tell you to move it?" Mercy stopped. "Put that hand back and put those legs down, you insipid cow." Down came Mercy's legs with a muffled thud. "Now I'm going to fuck you like I own you," Rio growled. "You do own me," Mercy chirped. "I'm yours." "Are you ready for me to pound that cunt?" Rio glared. "Yes," Mercy moaned softly. "Well, tough," Rio smirked. "You don't tell me what to do. I'm going to do this at my own pace, damn it." She sidled down to the foot of the bed while still facing Mercy. With delicate ease, Rio lowered her lips to Mercy's right big toe, kissed it then began sucking on it. Mercy had raised her chin to her chest so she could meet Rio's steady gaze. As Rio began playing with her toes, Mercy shivered and groaned. When Rio switched to the left foot, Mercy whimpered. "Please, Rio," she moaned. "Hush, you," Rio mumbled around the current toe she was sucking on. "You are my plaything and I'll do what I want with you." Mercy's head fell back on the pillow as she clutched Iona's hand tightly. Iona seemed totally taken with events. She had rolled on her side so I cuddled behind her, my cock pressing against the small of her back, and began kissing her shoulder. Iona pushed back into me and wiggled her ass against my thighs. She also reached back, took my free hand in her own then placed them together on her stomach. She matched me as I traced small circles over her torso. "I hope I find someone who makes me that happy," Iona murmured. "You'll find someone worthy of you, Iona," I replied quietly. She tilted her head to give me better access to her neck. "I believe I will, Zane," Iona purred. "Now I know what to look for." Rio was taking her sweet time with Mercy, torturing the poor girl with lust. Iona actually scooted over and gave Mercy a quick peck on the cheek to comfort her. She was back in my arms before Mercy could decide to take shelter in Iona's innocent sexuality. This was Rio and Mercy's moment and we knew she shouldn't forget that. When Rio got to the knees, she pressed Mercy's legs farther apart and rotated the hips so she could access the back of Mercy's knees. She was running the tip of her tongue along the inner joint, driving Mercy nuts. The girl was humping her crotch up in the air and began pinching her right nipple. "None of that, you cougar-wannabe," Rio snapped. "You can't toy with my playground. It's mine." Mercy's face scrunched up in frustration as a single tear escaped her left eye. Mercy's free right arm began to flail about as Rio reluctantly stopped teasing the knees and began nibbling her way up Mercy's thigh. Iona felt the sympathetic energy and began massaging her left breast. "Please don't," she gulped as I moved my hand to her right breast. "I'll lose it and this should be their time, not mine." "Yes, Mistress Iona," I teased quietly. "Whatever you desire." Iona pummeled me with her ass against my thighs. "Behave," she sighed. Rio kept pushing Mercy's legs to the side until she was face (and lips) to Mercy's smooth cunt, letting the breath from her nostrils tickle the surface. "Something's been drooling, all," was all Rio got out before Mercy exploded into orgasm. "MotherfuckingChristGoddamn!" Mercy howled. Her whole body shook like an epileptic seizure had taken over. "Cunt-muncher," Rio sputtered. "Did you just squirt in my face?" Mercy was in no shape for an immediate reply. I didn't help matters when I snickered at Rio as her face rose above Mercy's thighs. Syrupy vaginal fluid was dripping off her nose and chin. Rio glared at me. I had a sinking feeling she was about to exile me from my room. "I'm, I'm sorry," Mercy groaned. "I was thinking weak, pathetic, or nasty," Rio grumbled. She began stalking up Mercy's body on all fours until she was face-to-face with her toy. "Was that the extent of your apology?" Mercy propped herself up feebly and began to lick Rio's face clean. "If I'm not satisfied, no fucking for you tonight," Rio taunted her. That spurred Mercy on. She was sucking Rio's eyelids and eyebrows, licking her cheeks, jaw and neck as if her life depended on it. Mercy ended up trying to French kiss Rio but she was having none of that. "Do you think I've got some of your cunt juice hiding under my tongue?" Rio quizzed her. Mercy gave a short, energetic nod. Rio cracked a smile and her lips and Mercy dove up to literally tongue-fuck Rio's mouth until she was thoroughly satisfied she'd gotten every drop. "No, you don't," Rio chastised her. "I know what you are doing and it is not going to work. I'm going to spank that sopping wet kitty and there's nothing you can do to distract me." "Have mercy," Mercy pleaded convincingly. "Oh, I am going to have Mercy again and again and again," Rio mocked her lover. Rio retreated down Mercy until her false cock slipped past her pubic mound. Rio used her right hand to guide the dildo up and down between her labia. The response was tiny simpering noises from Mercy. When Rio let the tip enter her cunt, Mercy became very still. "Relax, Babe," Rio urged her gently. "It will make it less uncomfortable." Rio avoided using the word pain. "Deep breaths, Babe," Rio soothed her. "Think about how much pleasure you feel when I shove this cock up your ass. It will be the same way with your cunt, but better." I could tell Mercy was really trying and that was the problem; she was trying too hard. Rio had an answer for that though. "I've got a better idea," Rio grinned wickedly. She pulled out of Mercy and waggled her phallus at her mate. "I'm not going to do all the damn work, you perverted minx. Hike up those legs and spread them wide, none of this folding at the knees crap. I'm going to mount you like John Smith ambushed Pocahontas, leaving you stupefied and wondering who the fuck just hammered you through the New World." "I'm going to fuck you harder than the Pilgrims screwed over the Wampanoag, you are going to ride my cock 'til dawn." I image the rest of us clearly showed our amazement that Rio knew so much, well, of anything, much less American History. "What the fuck?" Rio took in our gawking. "I read, things, occasionally. Don't look so shocked." "Iona," Rio added, as she went back to looking down on her woman, "get my camera phone. I want to record this moment for posterity." "Zane?" Iona whispered to me. She didn't want to put either Rio or Mercy at risk of exposure. "Its fine," I petted her shoulder. "You can make sure the file is secure." "I'm okay with it," Mercy assured Iona. "I trust Rio." "Be quiet, Pumpkin," Rio sneered. "This is going up on YouTube fifteen minutes after we are done. I'm going to title it: Lush Virgin Innocent plundered by Psycho Mistress." I groaned as Iona slipped off the bed to get the phone. "What; not descriptive enough?" "Plunder me! Plunder me!" Mercy meeped. Rio slapped both of Mercy's nipples. "Hush, you," Rio glared at Mercy. "The only thing I want coming out of that mouth had better be your tongue in my cunt." Iona walked up and handed the phone to Rio. "You keep it, Iona," Rio told her. "You'll get a girl's point of view. With Zane, it will be nothing but tits and ass." We both knew that wouldn't be the case, most likely wouldn't be the case. Iona returned to my side but was sitting up on her knees. She looked at the image in the phone and edged forward. I moved in behind her so that my stomach was against her buttocks. I remained reclining. Iona reached out and took Mercy's hand once more. "I'm ready," Iona said softly. Mercy paled, biting her lip over her dual anxieties. Rio had let slip a serious yet compassionate facial expression which reaffirmed that her Mistress was about to take her. The other was the originally unlooked for trait of Mercy the Exhibitionist. Oh, it terrified her that her sexuality would be discovered, but that thrill only made her actions that much more vibrant and alive. Rio positioned her fake phallus at the gateway to Mercy's virginity again. She leaned over Mercy, her arms resting on her fists to either side of Mercy's breasts, but her lady was taller and Rio couldn't quite span the gap between their faces. "Get up here and kiss me, Mercy," Rio said, choked with emotion. "Kiss me one more time as my fuck toy. Next time we kiss, you'll be my girlfriend." Mercy used her right elbow to prop herself up until her lips met with Rio's. "Are you going to own me, use me, and protect me forever and ever?" Mercy pleaded. "Baby-cakes, I own you for all time, I am never going to become tired of using you, and if anyone except me lays a finger on you, I'll wipe out their whole fucking family," Rio recited her twisted version of a marital vow with the tenderness of a child addressing a kitten. "Thank you for choosing me," Mercy fought back tears. The kiss she gave Rio was long, passionate, and steeped in familiarity. Mercy was still enraptured with the declaration and kiss when Rio pushed forward. Mercy's hymen tore, completing her evolution from the blindly obedient school girl that had come to my room as one of the Chancellor's enforcers so few weeks ago into the woman who dared to experiment with her deepest erotic desires. Mercy's eyes welled up with tears due to the pain. She trembled and her lips quivered. Rio didn't relent despite her lover's pain. She drove the dildo in relentlessly to the hilt. She ground the strap-on's base against Mercy's clit, withdrew a half inch, then slammed down hard. At the same time, she moved her left hand around to the back of Mercy's head, grabbed a handful of hair and forced Mercy into another kiss. "What are you, my little Orgasmic Bombshell?" Rio demanded. "I'm your girlfriend," Mercy sobbed through the renewing pain. "You don't sound very convinced," Rio insisted. "Am I going to have to put a ring on that clit?" she bumped Mercy's clit again, causing Mercy to gulp and whimper. "Not enough to teach your confused, simple mind who the boss is? Nipple rings it is, then," Rio taunted with all apparent seriousness. "You still don't get it?" Mercy shook her head, tears starting to seep down her cheeks as Rio kept fucking her. "Nose ring?" That suggestion seemed to scare the girl, probably because hiding such a piercing would be difficult. "Oh, sigh," Rio exaggerated. "I guess nothing but putting a ring on that finger will beat the point home." Mercy's eyes grew wide and her mouth gaped open. "Of course, that makes me your husband and Master, none of this wife-shit for me. You'll have to do double duty as wife and sexual gratification machine, available for sex on demand." "Okay," Mercy wept joyously. "I am so annoyed with you right now, Annoyer." Annoy equals love; that pretty much symbolized those two. "Mercy, if you fail me this time, I'm going to clone fifty of me and fuck you until you explode," Rio threated. Damn, Rio was so often unhinged from reality and common sense. I figured the only reason Mercy didn't rebel right then and there was that she knew Rio couldn't really clone herself. Otherwise, death by multiple orgasm was exactly how Mercy would chose to exit her mortal coil, and Rio knew it. She also knew she was hammering Mercy into another orgasm quickly. "Christ-fuck-shit-hell!" Mercy screamed. Her legs vibrated then fell to either side of Rio. She wept, screamed, and convulsed on the bed but her Mistress held her firm by the hips and head. When Mercy finally collapsed, boneless from the exertion, Rio gently withdrew her cock from Mercy's cunt and settled on Mercy's right side, studying her intently. Mercy's chest rose in ragged pulses for over a minute. Her first act was to release Iona's hand and carefully place it on her labia, dabbed it gently, then drew the results up to her face. Vaginal fluid mixed with a trace of blood was what she saw. Mercy's smile returned then. She rolled facing Rio and curled submissively into Rio's body, her head resting between Rio's breasts. The four of us were quiet for some time. It was Mercy who broke the silence. "I'm okay," she murmured into Rio's chest. It took Rio nearly half a minute to respond. "You talk too much," Rio whispered to Mercy as she stroked her hair. "I think you can find something better to do with that mouth, so get to it." Mercy began suckling. "Good girl." By FinalStand for Literotica.

Character isn’t built in comfort, but forged in challenge. Today on BOLD STEPS, Mark Jobe teaches how to seal in an atmosphere of faith and shut the door on needless distractions. Witness the incredible power of God’s word to bring resurrection to situations you thought were hopeless. Experience breakthrough faith on Bold Steps! Bold Step Gift: A JOURNEY TO VICTORIOUS PRAYING: FINDING DISCIPLINE AND DELIGHT IN YOUR PRAYER LIFE by Dr. Bill ThrasherBecome a Bold Partner: https://www.moodyradio.org/donateto/boldstepsSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Mist on the River receives an offer he can't, or perhaps shouldn't, refuse. 

Pigs on the loose!!! Stupid effin' Starbucks cups. Sailing the seas of mashed potatoes. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

ShownotesTalking about grief brings mixed emotions. Some avoid it whereas others fully embrace it. Our guest this week is a strong believer that pain needs to be witnessed, that vulnerability is essential to being loved and loving another, and that the only way to deal with pain (and consequently grief) is to immerse oneself in the trenches of it.Carina Fraser is a Catholic widow, mother, artist, and author. At 28 years old she lost five children in miscarriages, as well as her husband in a ten month span. Her grief prompted her to start an Instagram page called @thatCatholicwidow, which she uses as a way to work through much of her loss and give words to thoughts and feelings that can often be ignored. Now two years later Carina continues to use her faith and her grief to bring beauty and comfort to those around her. She has one surviving son.Our GuestCarina Fraser is a Catholic mother, artist, and author. She was born in Toronto, Ontario and received her post-secondary education at Our Lady Seat of Wisdom Academy in Barry's Bay, ON. You can reach her at @that.catholic.widow @viduafidelisBooks and products by Carina Fraser My Easter Activity Book: For Catholics' https://a.co/d/7ZlKNPo'Lent & Easter Picture This! Catholic Edition: A Look and Find Activity Book' https://a.co/d/0ECzyIK'Advent & Christmas Picture This! Catholic Edition: A Look and Find Activity Book' https://a.co/d/dqgByRu'My Christmas Activity Book: For Catholic Kids' https://a.co/d/83ksJpl'Picture This! Catholic Edition: A Look And Find Activity Book' https://a.co/d/hzaN7oT'The Catholic ABC Book' https://a.co/d/hJZhWpf'The Catholic Coloring Book: For All of God's Bigger Children' https://a.co/d/hIOdKbH'Holy Family Intimate Moments: Catholic Coloring Book' https://a.co/d/isJ8NGzGrief Books:'Til Death Do Us Part' https://a.co/d/dwLq8KI'When Words Fail, Shut …the F*** Up' https://a.co/d/9FX9KPwLinks“In Heaven We'll Meet Again by Fr. Francois Rene BlotMGP Private Online CommunityScripture“The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be still.” Exodus 14:14 “Jesus wept.” John 11:35. Prayer for the souls of: Keegan Fraser, souls of babies lost to miscarriage and abortion, Lina Cirami, Giuseppe Cirami, Claudio Serafino, Emma Brydson, and Ambrose Walton.Journaling QuestionsCarina admits that social media gave her a voice to share when she herself could not talk verbally about grief. Why do some find it a place of consolation where as others may stay clear?How can social media be used to help others connect in grief? Who has been someone that has been a surprising comfort to you in your grief journey? How can you show your appreciation for them? What do you consider the time that grief “should be over?” How is Carina's story an example that anger with God does not mean abandonment? We hope you enjoy this episode of the Mourning Glory Podcast and share it with others who are on a journey through grief. You can find links to all of our episodes including a link to our brand new private online community on our website at www.mourningglorypodcast.com. God Bless!

Missouri US Congressman Eric Burlison joined NewsTalk KZRG to discuss drug prices and the government shutdown. Join Ted, Steve, and Lucas for the KZRG Morning Newswatch!

Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 28 Sandwiches? In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels.             Some masks hide who we are. Others show who we want to be                I could bowl Mercy over with a feather. Rio and I are doing the same social mechanics and come to the same conclusion. There are three reasons to marry a gay guy; 1.      money, 2.      social pressure and 3.      camouflage. Felicity doesn't need the money, so we simply assumed it to be number two. We totally missed the other reason; Felicity is a lesbian. Rio takes it in her slow and easy style. She walks up and puts Felicity in a gentle Mercy, Felicity, Rio sandwich. "I am going to have so much fun breaking you in," Rio whispers affectionately to Felicity. "When you get good at it, I'll let you play with Mercy, she likes to be played with but you have to be firm. Do you like it firm and hard, my most favorite and annoying little Ass-Tramp?" Subtle like a freaking tsunami. Mercy recovers from her shock to nod her head vigorously. "What about Barbie Lynn?" Felicity inquires with velvet hunger. "She's Zane's," Rio informs her. Felicity looks a bit disappointed. "Zane shares her though, so don't expect her to fall in love with you," then leans in and up, "but you'll find out her lips, titties and ass are to die for. Now let's go back to my room and let me show you some things," Rio grins, looks over her shoulder and gives me a wink. Who's room? Barbie Lynn pats my ass then skips after the trio. "We are going to lube up Mercy and try out some of the basics," Rio instructs Felicity. "We'll see what intrigues you then I'll send you home with some toys to practice with and, well, loosen you up a bit. Mercy didn't become fantastic overnight. I had to work on her a lot. See, and the conversation is drowned out by the rest of the students on the floor. No one has batted an eye about Mercy, Rio, and/or Felicity either. Maybe I really am the downfall of the Judeo-Christian tradition after all. Rio is taking responsibility for Mercy. Mercy just stepped out to the World as her true self, a tiny, tiny step anyway. Barbie Lynn is playing Dorm Mother in spades and in a manner way beyond the Handbook's job description. Valarie, Vivian and Iona have gathered together then when Vivian finger-beckons me over. I saunter over to see what's going to go wrong with my life next, and if they have any Tribbles hiding there I'm going to burn the little bastards in the sink. That's not what brings me over. "All the Advocate-candidates have been approached and agreed to serve," Vivian seems amused to inform me. "They want what little ceremony exists to be performed and the Advocates sworn in at 9pm." "Has someone worked on an Oath of Office," I groan. 'To one's self be true', what else can I say? "It seems some of the prelaw students actually had a little contest and they've put something together," Vivian smiles warmly. "It has been downloaded to your phone, it is under Advocate Oath of Office." "Why are you being such a smart ass?" I look her over. "Hasn't my day been bad enough?" "Zane, have you seen your phone log for the past twelve hours?" Vivian asks me. I have been ignoring my phone, in fact. I check it now and I bless those hard working Taiwanese and the huge memory capacity they've put in my global lifeline; otherwise my phone would have melted down hours ago. Fuck, I have phone calls from people I don't even know, who live in, France, Germany, Brazil and Belarus? I rack my mind to remember where Belarus is, blonde-haired, blue eyed Slavic ladies, now I know! The viewing of Star Trek humiliations seem to be universal but at least they don't know my name or face. There is some serious Time Lord Mafia paddling over this one. They've used my damn private phone number. "When do you think you'll talk to Rio," Iona asks cautiously. "I'll take care of that right now, while she's feeling happy and playful," I comfort Iona. "Besides, it could be worse; everyone is looking for a pudgy Sasquatch, not me." The three ladies all stare at me. "Oh fuck," I groan. "Well," Vivian looks away (oh hell), "the footage sort of shows you taking a shower plus your name and phone number." "But your transformation into is a fur-ball is truly precious," Valarie comforts/mocks me. "All my gal-pals out West think you are so cute; Phoenix, one of my Mom's jailbird friends, even used the 'too cute' emoticon and I didn't even think she knew what emoticons were. She sent it to all her buds still in lock-up too." "Great, I'm popular in a women's correctional facility, at least it is in another state," I sigh upward. I pray to God that never becomes relevant. "Hell, I have a housewife in Belarus she wants me as a house pet." "What does she look like?" Valarie seems curious. "How would I know?" I am somewhat offended. Valarie takes my phone but I don't resist too much. She scrolls a bit then hits the number. "Don't call her," I bark. Valarie laughs then hands me my phone back. She shows me the 'entirety' of the girl's message. Nice bikini, or what there is of it and I can't imagine it being too practical that far north. She is divorced, with a one year old son, 22 years old and fresh out of college with a job as a PR specialist for a real estate development firm. She also speaks seven freaking languages, I feel like such an underachiever right now, or male underwear model. Maybe I'll make her a pen pal ~ she's a half a world away. I should be safe. Right now I can't play it safe though; I have to go play with Rio and I know that violates my health insurance under the 'feeding dangerous animals' clause. "Zane," Iona offers to take my phone so I give it to her (why should I distrust her right?). Her delicate little fingers fly across it then she hands it back. "You now have a fifteen minute warning," she is trying to be helpful. "Paige seems to have vanished," I request, "so when you see her, tell her to give us some peace please." The three of the saner women I know give me a nod. I round the final screen and there is my sleeping platform. Barbie Lynn and Felicity are examining a stunning large collection of sexual aids (that my credit card must have paid for), which Rio is sedately explaining to them, sort of what you would expect from a Mary Kay or Avon saleswomen. Mercy is bent over the bed, pushing up her ass by standing on her toes, skirt and panties gone and surreptitiously undoing her blouse buttons when she thinks Rio isn't looking. Mercy even flashes a precious grin my way when she sees me. It is the 'Weeee! I'm about to get fucked' look. While amiably chatting away, Rio puts her hand over one of Felicity's hands and leads it over to Mercy's flank. Felicity puts up a token resistance. "Do that again and it will cost you," Rio purrs. Felicity stares at Rio's feral nature, seeing her truly for the first time then obeys. "Good girl," Rio coos in Felicity's ear. That reminds me what I've forgotten to do today, the air filters. I look around the various wardrobes for some sort of precision tool like a baseball bat, crowbar, sledgehammer, fire axe or chainsaw, I have a cricket bat? What the hell am I doing with a cricket bat? Isn't that the National sport of India; is it even played on this continent? It may be one of a kind; I'll spare it. "Zane!" Rio snaps. Apparently she's been calling my name for a second or two. "Yeah Bro, what do you need?" I answer. I'm not being attacked by someone so she must need something from me. "Felicity is self-conscious about being naked in front of us girls," Rio grins. "Could you pick out a swimsuit for her that is conservative and demur?" In Rio-speak that means three small circle Band-Aids and some dental floss. "What color would you like Felicity?" I ask. She says white; I groan because when you sweat/drip on white it becomes translucent. Maybe she's teasing me. I pick out a Rio-approved set (she has a whole drawer labeled 'Slut Wear' after all), hides it from her until I walk around and hand the 'suit' to Rio. Top lesson: 1.      Rio is in charge. Rio approved approves the look suit then hands it to Felicity. "You expect me to wear this?" Felicity gasps. "That's going to cost you Sweet-cheeks," Rio grins wickedly. "I can't wear this," Felicity stammers. Rio puts a finger to her lips to stop Felicity from saying anything else. "I apologize, Ms. Tolliver," Rio nods, "I think you are in the wrong place. Thank you for the books; good-bye now." Felicity is looking back and forth between Rio, Barbie Lynn, Mercy and me. Barbie Lynn gives Felicity a friendly shrug; I mirror that gesture while Rio takes up a medium lavender dildo, a bottle of lube and pours an expertly delivered thin stream on the tool and Mercy's asshole as if they are one. She's pointedly ignoring Felicity. Felicity is a 'Prom Queen' type and now some jumped-up freshman has dismissed her like she is nothing; I doubt that has ever happened before. On the other hand, Rio is brazenly open with her sexuality and sexual desires; a freedom Felicity has always felt denied her. Felicity almost makes a crucial mistake but I catch her starting to form the words 'I'm sorry' to me but I redirect her with a tilt of my head. "I apologize," Felicity whispers. "Zane, could you take over for me please," Rio says. I step around to her far side and start working my dildo slowly into Mercy's rectum. She wiggles her ass playfully to the intrusion. Rio steps up to Felicity, rises up on her tiptoes and grips Felicity's head firmly but gently. Rio tries to kiss Felicity but I can tell the taller blonde's jaws clench and her body stiffens. "One last chance," Rio insists. She lets the implications sink in then kisses her again. It is a close thing but Felicity finally breaks down and let's Rio's tongue master her tongue, mouth and lips. Felicity moan eradicates a decade of repression and denial and it is with some reluctance that the taller blonde lets the short, darker Rio settle down. Rio presses a finger to Felicity's lips again. "This is going to be the last time I'm nice to you for some time," Rio begins. She stops Felicity from speaking once more. "Zane and I are closer than family, he's number 1 in my book; there is no other. I will call you whatever I want to call you and you will not talk back. My safe words are 'That fucking hurts' or clapping your ankles together if you can't speak." "Mercy is mine; hurt her and I will bury you, my hand to God. Outside of that, I will use you like I want to. I will show you things you've only read about, make you dress in clothes that terrify you, and press you as hard as I can because I care about you Felicity. Are you a virgin?" Rio inquires. "Yes," Felicity moans somewhat frightened. "Your vaginal virginity is yours, your oral and anal virginity are mine," she explains. "When I say come over, don't make excuses, bring your ass to wherever I am. I am going to be hard on you and give you to my friends to play with because it amuses me, clear? Are you okay with this; if you aren't, this is your last chance to back out because I will hunt your ass down after tonight." "I can, I'm okay with this," Felicity says with less trepidation. "Okay Bitch," Rio growls, "Take off your shoes, panties and skirt; pick out the paddle you think you deserve to be spanked with and bed over the bed. That shirt better not be in the way. Oh, you are leaving your bra with me tonight, go home without it. You only wear panties if you have my permission as well." "Yes, Felicity falters. "Call me Rio," she clarifies. "I'm not afraid of who the fuck I am. You've looked down at people like me all your life and now you are going to be as degraded as what you wanted me to go through. Payback is a bitch." "Yes Rio," Felicity confirms softly. "Well, get to it," Rio snaps and swats Felicity's ass. "I want to waste some time on my beautiful, wonderful, annoying slut here," she moved to Mercy, "and her tricky little self has been taking off her clothes without my permission." The slap Rio plants leaves a red handprint on Mercy who exhales contentedly at Rio's attention. "Oh, you've been a naughty little fuck-slut, and you are wetter than the damn river," Rio whispers in Mercy's ear as one hand pumps the vibrator in her ass and the other strokes her wet cunt. Yeah Rio, that's putting the fear of God in Mercy, right. Felicity takes the most-wicked looking paddle available and I've never even seen Rio consider using. "Bro, we have a meeting at 9pm so we need to break it up in about an hour," I give the bad news. "Zane, damn, take over Mercy once more; I trust you with her but I want tears and if you could get her to bite up a ball gag, I'd appreciate it," Rio asks. Mercy has been placated and her position with Rio affirmed. She's a happy little Bottom once more because Rio finds her annoying, which means 'love' when translated into sane people-speak. "Barbie Lynn, warm her up for me," Rio requests of the blonde bombshell as she falls on Felicity's behind's like a Bedouin dying of thirst. I can see Felicity about to turn and plead for Barbie Lynn's attention because she mistakenly believes BLT will be hesitant. Boy, she's in for a surprise. Barbie Lynn's thumbs push the base of Felicity's softly resistant ass up and apart. Barbie Lynn is lapping like a dog at Felicity's cunny alternating flicks of the tongue along the labia and short, rapid intrusions. "What kind of sick masochist are you?" Rio snarls, waving Felicity's chosen paddle before her eyes. "I use this to crush the skulls of rogue water buffaloes; where was I supposed to hit you; on the asses of your ancestors cause that was where you were headed? What the hell was this even doing in my collection anyway?" "Also, what are you doing with your bra still on? I'm going to want those bad boys milked before you escape tonight," Rio grumbled. "You didn't, Felicity starts to protest even as Barbie Lynn twirls her toward orgasm. "Shut up!" Rio hisses. "Barbie Lynn, teach her a lesson." Barbie Lynn frees up one hand long enough to give her one 'moderate' spank. "Where is Paige; I need her nimble, spider-like finger of Evil." I can't seem to spot her so Paige is forced to clear her throat, she has carefully hidden herself behind my, pillow; she's hiding by the simple expedients of being in semi-darkness and being very still. It is so eerie I almost love her, love her. "Jesus H. Christ," Rio jumps. "I'd put bells on you but I'd probably end up with them in my cunt, now that actually, focus Rio!" she chastises herself. "Paige, help me strip my latest toy down and give her nipples a stress test," Rio requests. "Deal, but you need to do me one favor," Paige starts crawling over toward Felicity. "Sure, now get snappy," Rio urges her on as starts to pull Felicity's shirt over the girl's head. "Forgive me for forcing Iona to help me and the Time Lord Mafia," Paige cashes in her favor immediately. It is all the more self-sacrificial in that I suspect Cordelia kept Paige out of the whole plot. "Bitch," Rio seethes at Paige, "if you messed up Iona I'll still find a way to make you pay, I promise you." "You granted me a favor," Paige reminds Rio cautiously. "Zane, do something," Rio pleads. "I've already sworn not to make the responsible parties pay, beyond what Cordelia has already granted me," I grin. "I get Paige's ass whenever I want, how often I want, until the end of October," I add. Paige lowers her head and trembles with fear and anticipation; the 'threat' of anal sex is something Paige and I are working through plus, since Paige fears it, Rio will love the fantasy vision of Paige squirming on my 'meaty pole', see Barbie Lynn's thesaurus. Rio can't get away from Paige fast enough, falling into the narcotic pleasures of Mercy's treasures. Rio is often misunderstood; pain is a daily part of her life brought about by her blatantly aggressive lifestyle and the wraiths of her past. Mercy isn't in any danger; she could hardly be safer at the moment, figuratively speaking. Mercy's ass and cunt are getting a workout to the point I'm afraid that Rio is going to shove that dildo all the way into Mercy's colon and Rio's tongue might end Mercy's 'pesky' virginity by tongue-muscle action alone. Paige shoots me a sad smile before she gets on her back and starts sliding under Felicity. When they are face to face, but running in different directions, Paige and Felicity exchange some wistful kisses. "You are beautiful," Felicity moans down at the pale pink lips and snowy skin of someone who is working both overtime at being my lover and more importantly, a friend to my group of friends. "I know," Paige responds confidently before wiggling her way further under Felicity. Soon she has the first taste most likely anyone has had over of her breasts and nipples. I can tell when Paige draws in the first full gulp of tit because Felicity goes off like a bronco mare with a cougar cub on her back. She is making deep, guttural moans but at least she's not screaming her head off. "Rio, do you want Felicity to taste my tits?" Paige asks. Rio is being petulant. "Rio, if you want I'll never talk to Paige or Iona again because they are both Time Lord Mafia and they all had a part to play in this," I declare. "I know of only one who didn't, and if she's my sole friend with them after this, so be it, but you have to let me fight my own fights alone from time to time and let me decide what counts as a victory." "Fuck the bitches," Rio pops up, much to Mercy's astonishment, "One is more than enough." "Fine, Iona is out Rio. The only one who didn't have a part in this morning was Paige," I tell Rio. "I'll go tell her that you two are done, but I'll have you know she was operating under my orders, sort of. I told her not to go against Cordelia and she did as I asked." Rio seems truly conflicted for the longest time then she drapes herself over Mercy's body. "Honey-hole reach back, take over and keep yourself going or I'll make you feel up each Karate Club member during practice Monday," Rio purrs to her lover. Mercy hastily obeys because I think something about the way the situation playing out intrigues her. Rio shuffles down to Barbie Lynn, Felicity's posterior and Paige's head. "You fucking lied to me you freaky douche," Rio declares venomously at the albino Paige. Paige wisely keeps silent, there is nothing positive she can say. SheRio plants four resounding smacks on Felicity's exposed bottom. Felicity squeals, distracting Rio momentarily. "You'll pay for that, you skank," Rio hisses at Felicity. "Paige, how fucking dare you disappoint me," she growls. "How dare you act above my expectations; you are almost a human being," Rio finishes - as if the term 'human being' is as horrid a term as ATF agent or fashionista. Rio stands up and views her domain. Mercy is going all out though she clearly misses her Top and Felicity is panting herself toward another, more prolonged climax. "Barbie-licious, would you take care of my prize for me; you know what she likes," Rio requests with a hint of her normal madness. "Paige, give her some nipple-age and I'm going to break in Felici-hump's whore-hole." For the English-speaking public that means (I think) that Paige is to open her own shirt, unfasten her front-access bra and lead Felicity's lips to those translucent, succulent breasts I find so tasty. Felicity is clearly in a sexual buzz; otherwise she might spend precious minutes trying to figure out that Rio just declared her intention to introduce Felicity to anal sex of the strap-on variety. "Hey, pansy-boy," Rio mocks me and my reclining majesty, "get over here and give me some of that magic tongue and finger work that will turn her back into a straight." That's just mean. "Please don't make me like men," Felicity stammers. Her eyes are glassy and feverish. Rio smacks both buttocks this time and Felicity squeals louder. "You don't get to talk, you listen," Rio commands. "You are a perfect lover, a lesbian," Rio explains from some teasing twisted core. "We simply sleep with men to control them, but I don't want you sleep with Lance without my permission, is that understood?" Felicity keeps her words within her lips as well as going back to use another one of Paige's nipples for further succor. This is just bizarre, the bi-sexual is demanding/empowering the lesbian to not sleep with her gay fianc , I couldn't write stuff this weird and then avoid rehab. "In fact, Zane has an in with your future Mother-in-law and she'll tell him if she even suspects her baby boy is having sex with a woman," Rio double-pumps her eyebrows at me. Rio doesn't 'know' that I'm having sex with Rochelle Wellington; Felicity's soon to be MIL. We do both know Lance, the fianc , likes playing with other men's cocks. We have the video file to prove it too. "You step out on me and I'll sell you to that sorority next door to Zane's house for a weekend," Rio threatens. Felicity isn't Mercy, she's repressed while Mercy is perverse (by outside standards). Full exposure to the town at large frightens Felicity because she doesn't want deal with the social consequences of being labeled homosexual. Mercy is actually afraid of her sexual proclivities themselves as well as the real physical danger of exposure. Once Felicity finds her own identity her relationship will change, in essence she'll never replace Mercy in Rio's heart. There is never going to be that vulnerability and utter acceptance that those two have. Felicity is going to be fun and in time I think Hudson Lane may be a better match as a companion. Hudson and Felicity are adults where Rio fights adulthood with every breath. Rio's choice in strap-ons is odd to say the least; the only time Rio had shown it to Mercy, Mercy had been afraid, afraid that Rio would waste their time on something so, unimpressive. Until I noticed Mercy's distress that morning I didn't think Rio had something so, (training wheels?) in her arsenal; this was what Rio picked to break Felicity in. No one knows my buddy like I do. Rio is still working Felicity's bunghole over with a sole finger when she leans over the tall slender blonde's back. Rio uses one hand to cord that long hair until it is one thick mass, and then she pulls it back like a corded rein. It isn't until the tip of the dildo nestles into the cusp of Felicity's sphincter that Felicity figures out what's about to happen. "No Rio, please, I don't want this," Felicity panics. "Sssh," Rio coos, "it is going in and I'm going to teach you how." "Rio, I don't," Felicity trembles. "Why?" Rio whispers her question. 'Why is Felicity afraid of this violation' is what Rio is aiming for. They stay there locked and silent. After a minute, Rio picks up her actions. "When I begin to thrust forward, I want you to use your inner muscles to push back," Rio says tenderly. Rio goes forward and Felicity tenses so she stops. "Relax, it won't hurt, only feel funny," Rio assures her. Not always true but, This time things culminate with Felicity gives a sharp gasp followed by a whispered sigh. "Okay," Rio murmurs to her prey, "I am tired of doing all the work. You need to push back now," she continues. "Come back against me you cunt-loving whore." Felicity bucks slightly and shakes her head. "No, no," she pleads at barely above a whisper herself. "It's okay," Rio runs a hand along Felicity's spine. "You can come back later if you like. Your ass is mine but I'll wait for you to give it to me but, no cunt for you to taste or lips upon your cunt until then Felicity. I'll be taking care of Barbie Lynn for you". Rio winks at me, "Or more likely you are leaving her for Zane, man that he is; you know she'll get addicted to that cock eventually." Bang! Felicity looks heart-shot. Felicity starts working Rio's artificial cock down her asshole. Rio looks at me and gives the best 'Home Alone!' face I've ever seen. She's floored that Felicity has been sucked into our mad circus. She then puts both hands on Felicity's hips. "Slow down Felicity, and welcome to the club," Rio grins down at her. Felicity rests for about thirty seconds then Rio spanks each flank. "Giddy-up now; you still have four inches to go." "I thought I could stop," Felicity whined. "You said, "You stopped; I let you stop," Rio sneered, "Now I'm telling you to back your sweet ass up." I'm going to give Rio a Janus mask for Christmas. I'd get her medication for her insanity but I know she'd eventually slip it into my food no matter what. "Come on now Felicity-Sugah," Barbie Lynn joins it. "You always had such a gentle hand training me in Karate. It'd be a crying shame if no other girls got to feel the way you made me feel. You have always been so strong, be strong now." Felicity rotates her head somewhat foal-like and stretches the hair Rio is using as a rein before she pushes back again. This time when Felicity stops Rio slaps her ass lightly. My buddy also grins madly at me and mouths 'I am so going to Hell over this' then giggles. I mouth back 'Right beside you'. Felicity is finally all the way back and resting when Mercy begins to shudder violently. "Holygoddamnfuckingpieceofshit!!!!" Mercy howls into the sheets. Barbie Lynn hammers her bunghole and mangles her clit so much that she repeats the phrase three times in rapid succession and all the time she looks as compassionate as a mother changing a newborn. Felicity takes that inspiration and runs with it. Rio is pulling back with the strap-on when Felicity pushes back hard. Rio pushes her forward and rotates her hips for more of a sensation before snatching up a slender blue paddle that seems more flexible than rigid. She quickly makes good use of it, stinging Felicity's rump and making the ride home for her interesting. Paige starts flicking Felicity's clit but that is more than Felicity can take. Thankfully she releases Paige's right tit before she clamps her teeth and bows her back up and down multiple times as orgasm hits her. Rio has to grip Felicity's hips tightly to not be bucked off and she's loving it. Felicity collapses on Paige but I quickly roll Felicity on her back, Rio's strap-on slides out painlessly, so I can pull Paige to me. Paige and I exchange a heated kiss while Rio unfastens the dildo, lets it fall to the floor. Rio crawls on the bed, hooks a finger into Mercy's collar and forces the exhausted beauty to follow her farther up the bed. Rio reclines against the headboard with Mercy resting her head on her Mistresses stomach, hair cascading over Rio's stomach, crotch, and thigh as well as her own face. Rio is running her hands through her lover's hair with an affection few at the school would believe. Barbie Lynn decides to take her own approach with Felicity. She mentioned experimenting with girls before meeting me on the day I first moved into this dorm, downstairs and a long, long time ago it seems. With the fear that permeated this place, it was probably furtive touches at night in bed with your roommate or a quick grope in the showers. Felicity barely has the time to register Barbie's presence before Barbie Lynn has Felicity's legs up, bent at the knees and cunt full exposed. Barbie doesn't dive in, instead crawling onto Felicity's body until they are face to face. Felicity gets this surprised, I can't believe this is finally coming true' face, the Barbie Lynn's lips are pressing hers. "Hey Honey-Trap," Rio snaps playfully, "what do you think you are doing with my Thing Two?" (Note: Never combine Rio and Doctor Seuss on You Tube; legions of little minds will be forever corrupted) "Give it a rest Rio," Barbie Lynn looks up and grins at my Bud, "Felicity gets a time-out and she gets to have it with me, are we clear?" This is not a fight I'm stepping into and Rio, Mercy and Barbie Lynn know it. Barbie Lynn doesn't ask for much from Rio and is pretty tolerant of her so now that Barbie Lynn is making a stand and, "This is really hard on her," Rio says affectionately. "Take your time." I leave Barbie Lynn and Felicity to play and carry Paige around to the far side of Rio. Paige is coiled around my body so I doubt she could be happier outside of 'bouncy, bouncy'. "What's going on Babe," I whisper to Rio. "What's your game?" "Don't tell anyone because they won't believe you but I've been reading," she tilts her forehead against mine. "I've been reading the diary of an actual dominatrix by the firelight of me burning 'Fifty Shades of Someone Stupid'." "You are right," I snicker, "no one would ever believe you actually read a book." She punches me then Mercy shoots me a weak blow to the ribs. "Hey you," Rio tapped Mercy's nose, "who said you could get in a fight? I think someone is getting hog-tied and ice cubes rubbed up and down their spine." Mercy shivers happily. "Do you want to do anything like that with me," Paige purrs. "I want to sneak into your parent's room and fuck you hard on their bed in every position we can think of," I state calmly, as if I've given it great thought. Paige's dampness streams down onto my left hip and thigh as she shivers in delight. It is all about knowing your partner. This forbidden act knocks her right out of the ballpark. "Are we, you and I, any closer?" Paige murmurs. "You know who has my heart, Paige, but we are closer, if that matters," I tell her. "When did that happen?" Paige smiles up at me. "About fifteen minutes ago," I kiss the tip of her nose. "So I had to lie to a total nut-job to save another friend of yours and risk a beating to take us a step forward, and it wasn't the black leather micro-mini," Paige moans as finds the perfect spots on my chest and lap to settle into. It is a precious few minutes we share, with Rio alternating tender caresses with pinches to the nipples and slaps to the breasts, buttocks and thighs. Mercy makes mewling little sighs in response to both sets of gestures. Felicity has finally rolled Barbie Lynn over and engaging in every less-than-vanilla sexual act she thinks she's missed over the three years she's known, showered with, and competed with my Georgia Honey-box. By the play of Barbie's right hand, the thick, sloppy sound that's emanating from between Felicity's thighs and Felicity's shortness of breath, Barbie Lynn is driving her former classmate made with lust. "Bro, can I turn Mercy into an ice cream dispenser? Sort of 'squeeze these wonderful titties' then scoop out some Neapolitan from her cunt," Rio snickers my way. She loves yanking my chain, and Mercy's, from time to time. "No! That has to be cold as hell and you may not make Mercy poop or pee dairy products," I command, "Rio-saurus Rex!" "Oh, that's gross," Rio dares to look offended. "I would never put ice cream up my favorite Lust-receptacle's butthole. That is for the ice cream cones." "Fine, you may not stuff Mercy like an clair," I clarify. "I'm putting my foot down and if Paige and I have to do full body cavity searches to make sure you behave, so be it." Felicity erupts through her final orgasm of the night, her body twisting and stretching as sweat drips off her body. Barbie Lynn keeps subtle control of Felicity's body which is both touching and frightening, she's getting sexually wound up and she's going to corral my cock and drive it up her ass, my approval being optional. The dirty, sexy look she shoots me is as good a piece of proof as I need. "I can't have you two touching my bitch without supervision," Rio states angrily, yeah right. "I'll have to check out all her opening once you two get done, a triple check." Mercy looks over toward Paige and me. Her eyes are open wide with lust and anticipation. "I suppose we could simply trust Mercy and take her word for it," I tease. "No," Rio goes off, "I can tell you right now; she's one sneaky little slut." "I don't trust her," Paige nods. "The pretty ones always need to be kept in line, harshly." Mercy merely shakes her head vigorously in affirmation of her devious and untrustworthy nature. "Where are you people from?" Felicity pants through her fatigued smile. "The People's Republic of None of Your Damn Business," Rio slaps Mercy's thigh. "We keep Rio in a steel box," Barbie Lynn pets Felicity's left nipple. "The rest of us are regular students. Okay, Zane's a tad irregular, but he means well." My phone buzzes from the far side of the bed. "Time to wrap it up team," I give out the bad news. "Felicity, you can sweep step out with Barbie Lynn to the shower, different showers because giving the freshman student body an alternative lifestyle exhibition is not an option for tonight. The rest of us will give it a few minutes and go out and pretend the world is a normal place." "Felicity, I want your bra and panties up here on my pillow," Rio demands. "I'm going to use them to bind up Mercy tonight. She's been, umm, mediocre so I'm gagging her with that boring underwear and hooking her hands over her head with that sad, old bra of yours." "I thought you only wanted my bra," Felicity questions? "Spank her for me BLT," Rio growls. Barbie Lynn gave gives three sharp, alternating smacks on each ass cheek. Felicity bites her lower lip and whimpers. "No back talking now F; I said no bra tonight, but also no panties ever without my approval." Felicity nods. Barbie Lynn takes Felicity by the hand, over to the towel closet then leads her somewhat reluctantly out into the main floor. "Rio, did I do you a good turn," Paige asks. Rio thinks that over for a minute, making small circles in Mercy's hair. "Yes, yes you did, you albino deviant," Rio allows. "Can I have Mercy for my use for one night sometime soon?" Paige requests. "That's not how it works," Rio scolds Paige after a few seconds. "She's mine to use, no one else's. I can have someone use her for my pleasure but she's a damn human being, not a bean-bag chair. I will give you this though, because you can be so incredibly stupid about people, I'll let Mercy know that it would make me happy to see her with you; how is that?" Mercy is resting on her head on Rio's lap, so she clearly hears what's going on. Rio is really the best friend in the world, and one of the best people I've ever known. I can live with the crazy. Homecoming. So, it was Friday, Homecoming Day at FFU, and several dozen of us were not doing what we were supposed to do but I wanted this headache taken care of before the rest of the day's festivities. All the Advocates were gathered as was Ms. Goodswell, as a Student Advisor. Other people were gathered to observe the spectacle and guessing which way I would jump. This first major crisis of my role as Mediator since the creation of the Janissaries wouldn't have been complete without Iona, my trusty sidekick, and Rio, my chronic pain in the ass & truest friend. In fact, Rio was the reason for this meeting. She had been given the writing assignment of 'place the writings of a juvenile story into an adult setting'. The train wreck wasn't hard to foretell. Rio had chosen four works of the late, lamented Doctor Seuss (if he wasn't dead he would be after reading halfway through Rio's creation). Rio had attacked the project with a gusto that made Ms. Tucker, her English instructor, hopeful that Rio was finally fitting in (read: conforming). Rio turned in the pornographic Tales of a Cat with a Really Big Hat on Tuesday. Ms. Tucker had flunked the effort and dragged Rio down to Doctor Victoria Scarlett's office but that senior educator had volleyed this time bomb into my lap. I promptly told them to pick an Advocate and get back to me after dinner. Rio Talon/Christina Buchanan's argument had been that the vagueness of the instructions allowed for a liberal interpretations of the assignment. Athena Varna (representing the rest of Ms. Tucker's class)/Joy Jefferson had argued that the standard was what 'any reasonable individual going to a Christian school would find acceptable' as their defense, which meant that it wasn't acceptable in their opinion. Two days of mediation went nowhere and I wasn't going to let this matter fester through the weekend. I had called all the concerned parties to join me after breakfast and received Doctor Scarlett's blessing for missing Assembly where many of the students and their families were gathered in our daily religious/social function. "Okay, I've given the matter serious thought and I saw merit to both arguments but I found Ms. Jefferson's argument to be the more compelling," I led off. "We live in a society; each person should be free and act with freedom but that cuts both ways, we have to give our society some support to retain our harmony. This is my judgment." "I would hope that since Rio did make an exceptional effort in her creative writing work that Ms. Tucker would consider allowing Rio one additional week to make up the assignment since this is one-quarter of her grade and her effort, while misdirected, was acknowledged as a vigorous attempt. That is my suggestion anyway," I said hopefully since I wasn't sure if I could instruct a teacher in any manner, much less order a do-over for Rio. It took a few seconds for my words to sink in. This was hardly re-writing the Charter of the Commonwealth of Virginia but it did mean I'd ruled against my best friend and the woman I wanted to marry and several girls looked at me in some disbelief that I hadn't gone that way. "Thank you Mediator," Joy was the first to offer me her hand, and she was still technically the enemy, being in the Traditionalist faction here at school. "Your argument carried the day, Joy. I'm pretty sure there was no favoritism involved," I smiled. "I will get you next time," Christina came up and shook Joy's hand. She turned and clasped my hand after that. "You were wiser than I thought you'd be," Christina winked to me. A few people came by and went through the same routine until Rio approached last of all. She hit me in the shoulder causing multiple heads to swivel our way. "You threw me under the bus Bitch," she laughed. "Don't look so surprised," I rubbed my shoulder, "you built the bus I rolled over you with, ya Deviant." Iona gave me a shy wave right before she slipped out to go meet her parents and most of the girls did likewise. Finally it was Ms. Goodswell, Christina, Faith, Rio and myself. "Faith and I will polish off the minutes of your final decision Zane," Christina said before turning her imperious head away and leading Faith out to do what seniors do. "So, are you two going to be hiding out all day?" Virginia Goodswell looked Rio and my way. "I would but two dozen over-eager and overly-endowed students have asked Zane to be available to meet their ancestors or some other such cheesy crap," Rio ranted. "Besides, I'm sure there is some law or ordinance that causes the rest of you to never leave me alone." "Yes Ms. Talon," Ms. Goodswell said with some gravity, "That is the Self-preservation Act of 1908. You are listed under 'Elements with Corrosive properties." "Woot!" Rio hollered, "I'm a corrosive influence!" "Thanks Virginia," I addressed my teacher and Spiritual Advisor, "like she needed more ammo." Goodswell laughed and headed out toward the main campus while Rio and I headed for our dorm. "I think I'm going to become a superhero," Rio teased me. "My X-ray vision will vaporize the panties off of unsuspecting stuck-up babes." "Wasn't there a time when heroes were heroes and villains were villains; none of this gray crap?" I half-grinned. "Zane," Rio sounded exasperated and but motherly aka Ma Barker, "you keep saving girls and they keep kicking you in the teeth." "I look at it as opportunity to get back up again," I smiled. "That's called masochism, look it up," Rio sneered. "Let's go to my room," I said, rather redundantly, as we'd reached the elevator door and I'd hit the button. Rio became oddly close to me as we got on board and even let me wrap an arm around her. For me, being parentless today required I convince Aunt Jill that parking would be a bitch and I'd see her Saturday night, we had our first Marksmanship outing tomorrow morning in Kentucky, so I'd would be back to have dinner with my sole family member. Rio's parents hadn't asked Rio if she wanted them to come. They hadn't made any contact at all, denying Rio the ability to scream at her parents and tell them to 'fuck off'. Adding to the misery, Mercy's parents were here and everyone in our close circle had convinced Rio that being close to Mercy would be disastrous, in the belief that Rio had poor impulse control, imagine that. When the end of Assembly sounded and the parents began exiting the building to join up with their kids, we proceeded to my Solarium level of the dorm. The parents would meet their girl's friends, teachers, & the key members of their various clubs. We opened my 'vault' door and Rio led me upstairs then gave a start. I slipped around her to see what the problem was, Cordelia Dresden. To her credit, Cordelia and her Time Lord Mafia had either been behaving or doing things in such a sneaky manner as to avoid my notice. Besides the three of us, only three freshmen girls occupied the rest of the floor, leaving us effectively alone. "Hi Rio!" Cordelia led off, "Zane, I only want you to know you have our full support," was her cryptic statement that I was still digesting when Rio hurled herself at the slender brunette. Cordelia cried out as Rio toppled them both to the floor. Rio rose up on her knees and slapped Cordelia across the face. "Get her off me," Cordelia screamed as she raised her hands to defend herself. "What's the fucking secret you're hiding?" Rio growled. "Yank Rio off me right now. Zane," Cordelia snapped as she took a second slap to the cheek. "You know what I can do." "Cordy, Rio wants to live free or die trying; so you might want to consider your next words carefully," I shrugged. "She prefers to exist free of fear. Rio, I'm going to the shake dispenser; do you want something?" "A strawberry shake sounds good," Rio smiled as she began pinning Cordelia's wrists down. Once she finished that maneuver, Rio glared triumphantly down at Cordelia. "Great," Cordelia met that glare with one of her own, "what's your next brilliant plan; a little sexual assault to go with your brazen attack?" "Nope, I'm going to drool spit on your face and ears Cordelia-baby," Rio answered then began swirling her tongue in her mouth to gather up her first glob of spit. "Zane," Cordelia pleaded. "Rio, let her up," I requested (Rio knew my vocal tones). "She's agreed to help you with your Mercy problem." Cordelia had done no such thing but Rio would need help dealing with her lover's parents and Cordelia could be a powerful ally. Cordelia could lie her way out of things, except she would be lying to me and our trust was a fragile thing. If it was just Rio, Cordy would lie in a heartbeat but I believed I was somewhat special to her. Cordy said nothing and Rio got off of her. It wasn't Rio's style to offer Cordelia a hand up even though she knocked her down. Rio joined me making shakes and grinned evilly. "Cordelia, do you want a shake," I called over to her. "Peach," she replied. Somewhat reluctantly she walked over to us. Cordelia, like Rio and me, had no parents coming. "So, are you going to tell Zane what your secret is or do we go for the best two out of three falls?" Rio sneered. "Let it be Rio," I nudged her. "It isn't something bad. If it was bad, she would have coughed it up already." "I don't know what you see in this wacky Whore," Rio asked me, with Cordelia standing beside us. "She's Ra's al Ghul to my Bruce Wayne," I explained. "How can I step beyond the streets of my own personal Gotham without her?" "Wait, does that mean I'm Harlequin?" Rio mused. "No, you are the Joker, Rio," Cordelia huffed, "and yes, that makes Mercy Harlequin." "Cordy, there are times I wish you weren't so evil and manipulative," Rio observed. "Titles such as Evil, like genius, are the hobgoblin of small minds," Cordelia countered. "Zane sees that, which is why I tolerate the rest of you." "You just want to play jockey to his thoroughbred," Rio snorted. "Never said I didn't," Cordelia bantered. Rio stole a look toward the door so I leaned into Cordelia. "Thank you," I whispered. Cordy nodded. "Pist," Rio hissed. "Iona is here with a slightly larger version of herself and two guys who look vaguely related to her as well." I looked over and there was Iona pointing what had to be her mother my way. She didn't look furious but she wasn't beaming sunshine and happiness at me either. "Scatter," Rio whispered. "Pissed off Momma on the way," before dashing off behind the showers. "I'm gone," Cordelia gasped playfully, took her peach shake and slunk away. Iona "Mr. Braxton?" this conservatively dressed woman with a slight build and shoulder length black hair addressed me. I'd seen a few pictures of her on Iona's Facebook page. "Mrs. Beckett, I am Glenn Zane Braxton, but please call me Zane. Your daughter is one of my closest friends." She seemed to mull that over, whether to be stiff or to give me a chance. "Zane, is there a place we can talk in private?" she inquired. "Absolutely," I nodded; then led her to the far corner and sat down on a sofa with her so that we could both look out over the changing leaves on campus. "Mr. Brax, Zane, what are your intentions with my daughter?" she came right out with it. "She was my second friend here and constantly supportive of my often precarious situation and she's never asked for anything in return," I stated. "I'd paint her house if she asked me," I continued, "or drive across country to help her move. She's that great a friend." I didn't brag about killing or even hurting someone for her, though I would, because that wasn't the kind of extreme friendship her Mom was looking for. "Very well, Zane; but I am worried about you and Iona in another way," she sidestepped. "You are an attractive young man and there are rumors that you have several girlfriends on campus." "I think I can answer the real question with three statements of my own; the only person I have ever called girlfriend is Heaven Vickers, a senior here. "I love Heaven's best friend, Christina Buchanan, and they are both aware of our relationship. Second, your daughter is the second-smartest, most level-headed, and most forward thinking young woman I have ever met; you have done a wonderful job raising her," I related. "Lastly, I have offered to have sex with your daughter twice and she's said 'no'." "You did?" she studied me intently. "And she was naked in bed with me both times. She's seen me have sex, too, but she's decided that when she's ready, she'll ask me and I'll say 'yes' because I'm positive that she will pick the moment when it is right for her and no one else." "Wha, what?" Mrs. Beckett's eyes grew wide. "Naked in bed with you? And nothing happened?" "Yes; but I felt safe because I trust her," I said calmly. "You have to admit she is diligent and organized and she's not going to simply jump feet first into anything." "I have to admit I was afraid you were taking advantage of my daughter's kind nature; but you seem oddly frank about everything you two have done. I admit I expected you to be, more deceptive and evasive," she mused. "Do you have sex with any of the girls on campus?" "Tons; though thankfully, things eased off with midterms approaching," I smiled. "Is that so," she said in a clearly questioning tone. "I want you to understand that Iona thinks the world of you. She writes home every day, and you often figure in her experiences, though I knew she was editing some things, like why she appears to be friends with Ms. Talon." "When we started out, Rio and I were doomed to be expelled but Iona joined with us and together we survived some really rough times." "I recall getting several letters from the Chancellor from that time. Was Iona in any danger?" she asked. "Yes, she got a pair of bloody knees but please believe a whole lot of us were looking out for her," I responded. "Trust me, Ion has a fair number of friends who appreciate her numerous qualities." "Mom," Ion called out as she came over. "I hope Zane hasn't been scaring you." "Iona, it is only that you didn't have many friends in High School," her mother smiled at her daughter. "Mom, I had no friends in high school, but Zane gave me the courage and opportunity to come out of my shell," Iona interrupted. "Zane says you two have been sleeping in his bed, naked," Iona's mother met her daughter with an even gaze. "Yes," Iona blushed furiously, "but I bet he's also informed you that we haven't had sex," she leaned into her mother, "and there he lied." Mrs. Beckett stared at me, a bit peeved. "Mom, that is only because what Zane considers sex and what you would consider sex are two slightly different things. Suffice it to say, I am still a virgin as far as the marriage bed is concerned," Iona assured her parent. "And I have Zane well in hand, because I have control of his phone." "I keep telling you that smarts count for more to in life than a model's good looks," Iona's mother reminded her daughter. "I'm glad Iona has both," I chimed in. Both women looked my way then grinned. "He is such a good friend, Mother; that I forgive his exaggerations," Iona reached over and kindly touched my cheek. As that gesture ended, Iona's face grew shocked. "Mom, I think we need to go see Mrs. Worsham's class now, if we are going to get everything taken care of before lunch," Iona hurried her mother. "It was nice to meet you Zane," we shook hands as we both stood as well. Hope I followed Iona's gaze and my heart stopped. It was Hope, looking so do-able in her school-wear. With her were a petite woman, smaller and maybe a bit heavier than Hope, three more little Hope's in descending age and lastly, a male version of Hope, but this one was made out of Lego bricks, really big Lego bricks, it was Yeong Song. Yeong Song had charisma in spades; he wasn't the Angel of Death, he had grabbed that punk by the short and curlies and taken over his job. That was how he appeared to me at that moment. Oh yeah and he was looking right through me. As if on cue, Hope smiled and whispered something to her father and they both came my way. Imagine a choreographed interpretive dance troupe; you had Hope's three younger sisters spread out over the middle half of the room, having fun with some of the few freshmen girls that were hanging around. Yeong was like his eldest daughter in the way they moved, you could tell they were walking toward you but I couldn't recall their feet moving or even hearing footfalls. That was probably just my fear speaking. From personal experience I knew Hope was human with all our frailties and imperfections, she was simply more perfect than most. "Father, this is my good friend Glenn Zane Braxton, who is known by the name Zane to both his friends and enemies," demurred Hope. "Zane, this is my Father, Major of the Republic of Korea, retired, Yeong Song," she introduced her father to me. I extended my hand, he took it in a granite grip and gave it two sharp shakes. I stood there like an idiot but at least my heart was beating and I was breathing again. "Your pulse is racing young man, your palms are sweaty and you are staring at me with dilated pupils," Yeong noted dispassionately. "Well, since I've lain down with your naked daughter for a variety of bedroom antics on several occasions; I naturally assumed you had come here to kill me," I blathered. "You have been naked with my eldest daughter," he said in a way that could be contrived as a statement or a question. "You didn't know?" I groaned. I wondered if this counted as suicide. "You have honorable intentions toward my daughter," he informed me. Huh? "No," I gulped. "I was thinking we could fool around, mainly." "I understand you are the last of your line," he glared at me. Uh oh, wait. "You know who I am, so you must have already been told by Hope what's really been going on," I breathed a sigh of relief. "See Father, Zane's not dense," Hope hugged her father's arm, "he's simply terrified of you." "I noticed," Yeong almost smiled. "Mr. Braxton, I don't mind you seeing my daughter socially, but please learn at least to fight as well as my youngest daughter, she's nine." "You learn from people who are better than you, not from people you are

Are you ready for a life-changing encounter with God? Today on BOLD STEPS, Mark Jobe shows how to prepare your heart for divine breakthrough. Through the story of Jairus’s daughter, we’ll see why others’ issues don’t have to derail what God wants to do, and how to choose faith over fear. Get ready for transformation! Bold Step Gift: A JOURNEY TO VICTORIOUS PRAYING: FINDING DISCIPLINE AND DELIGHT IN YOUR PRAYER LIFE by Dr. Bill ThrasherBecome a Bold Partner: https://www.moodyradio.org/donateto/boldstepsSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

BYU getting a lot of national attention, the players need to block it all out.  Can the Big 12 get multiple teams into the College Football Playoff?  Donovan Mitchell was called "washed" when playing NBA 2K. This motivated him to drop 46 points last night. 

No Idols - Shut These 7 Things Down - Bishop Kevin ForemanSupport the show

Genevieve brings the case against her dad, Mike. He won't let her pay for him when they go out. If Genevieve does manage to pay, Mike keeps track so he can restore the balance later. As the father, he believes he should always pay his own way. Genevieve wants to be able to pick up the tab without Mike adding the transaction to his mental ledger. Who's right? Please consider donating to Al Otro Lado. Al Otro Lado provides legal assistance and humanitarian aid to refugees, deportees, and other migrants trapped at the US-MX border. Donate at alotrolado.org/letsdosomething.We are on TikTok and YouTube! Follow us on both @judgejohnhodgmanpod! Follow us on Instagram @judgejohnhodgman!Thanks to reddit user u/SomethingFoul for naming this week's case! To suggest a title for a future episode, keep an eye on the Maximum Fun subreddit at reddit.com/r/maximumfun! Judge John Hodgman is member-supported! Join at $5 a month at maximumfun.org/join!

Jerry's update has it all — from Jets shakeups and McAfee's real-time reaction, to Paul Pierce's insane dating theory. Oh, and the Rangers? Shut out again at the Garden.

There are two very difficult things to do on this earth: stop talking and listening. In Ps 141 pray that God would put a guard over his mouth. We have that guard! It is the Holy Spirit. But when we grieve or quench the Holy Spirit with the sin in our life, then that guard slips away and our speech becomes dishonoring to God.

Open doors no one can shut-Prayerhttps://lifemotivationdaily.blogspot.com/

In hour 3, Spadoni and Shasky discuss how Mac continues to impress, is it time to shut Purdy down?

Jayden Daniels got hurt in the 4th quarter last night and will be out for the rest of the week. MRI today to see if he can come back from this elbow injury. DC officials have reinstated another curfew in Navy Yard after what happened on Friday night. SNAP Food benefits could restart as early as Wednesday according to the National Treasure.  Make sure to also keep up to date with ALL our podcasts we do below that have new episodes every week:The Thought ShowerLet's Get WeirdCrisis on Infinite Podcasts

The book of Romans describes our salvation and how we're made right before God. Because of what Jesus did for us we are not just forgiven but also declared righteous! I should add, at great cost to Christ. There's nothing that compares to it! To support this ministry financially, visit: https://www.oneplace.com/donate/621/29

True story: I bumped into Reinhold Messner at the base of Mount Sabyinyo in Rwanda on December 31, 2016.Because I had read several of his books, I instantly recognized him with his signature disheveled hair and gray beard.Still, I politely asked, "Excuse me. Are you Reinhold Messner?"He looked at me, grumbled an unclear non-answer, and turned away to join his small group.I shuffled over to Rejoice Tapon and said, "I'm 95% sure that that man over there is Reinhold Messner, the greatest mountaineer ever!"She'd never heard of him, but she said, "I'll get a selfie with him!"Rejoice boldly asked him for a selfie. Perhaps Messner was impressed with her beauty, or didn't want to appear racist by turning down what he figured was a local Rwandan (Rejoice is from Cameroon). Regardless, he agreed. And she triumphantly showed it off to me to rub it in. I mention this story because I laughed when I read Messner's confession on Kindle Location 3057 of "Against the Wind." He wrote: "Approachability and sociability have never been my strong points."This sums up what I hope is NOT his final book. His book is full of criticisms of Messner. Most criticisms originate from journalists, climbers, or partners. However, sometimes he criticizes himself (like his poor social skills).For Messner, all these criticisms are a constant "headwind" that he has faced throughout this remarkable long life (he's over 80).This book is NOT what I expected. I've read five of his books and loved them all, especially "Crystal Horizon," which is about his solo climb up Everest's north face in 1980 without oxygen.I expected profound reflections and wisdom. The book's subtitle even promises "reflections." However, the reflections are shallow.The subtitle should be, "Defending Myself Against an Army of Critics." He spends about 25% of the book discussing the tragic loss of his brother, Gunther, on Nanga Parbat. Throughout the book, he has long excerpts of articles that heavily criticize Messner, especially about how he "abandoned" his brother after summitting. I admire Messner for sharing what his critics say and then offering his rebuttal. He could have made a series of strawman arguments that he could easily tear down.Instead, he gives his critics a strong platform, and they crucify him.I never doubted his story, which I read in one of his previous books.He said that after he and Gunther summited, they traversed the mountain by descending the Rupal Face instead of returning the way they ascended.Reinhold was significantly ahead of Gunther, who died in an avalanche.Messner spends MANY pages refuting idiotic claims that others have made. For example, they claim Messner went down one way while he told his brother to go down a different way, alone. They claim that he planned all along to traverse the mountain, which he denies.What's sad is that you don't need to invent lies to make Messner look bad. Just use his words against him.I'll do so by just taking three points from his latest book.1. Messner repeatedly said that Gunther was extremely weak at the summit and suffering from altitude issues.2. His book says, "Reinhold reported that he was about one and a half hours in front of his brother and had lost sight of him."3. However, later in the book, Messner writes, "During the descent, I was convinced that he was right behind me."I'm a mountaineer who has been in many difficult situations and sometimes been with a weak or injured partner. I would certainly get ahead of my weak partner to scout the terrain, to find the easiest path down.However, I would ALWAYS remain within sight or earshot, ESPECIALLY if my partner is feeble.If they're suffering from high altitude issues, they could collapse at any moment.This is common sense & prudence.How can Messner claim, "I was convinced that he was right behind me," and admit that he was "about one and a half hours in front of his brother and had lost sight of him."That's a ridiculous contradiction.It's normal that in the darkness, you might get ahead of your partner and lose visual and auditory contact for several minutes.The moment you realize that you're disconnected, you should stop and wait for your partner to catch up.If he doesn't appear after 15 minutes, it's time to backtrack. To get 90 minutes ahead of your weakened partner is negligent. That fact is all I need to know that Messner was wrong, negligent, and irresponsible.He screwed up.That's all he needs to say. However, instead of addressing this obvious failure, Messner spends pages proving that his critics are wrong about many of their false claims.Enough about their claims! Shut up, Messner! Address the elephant in the room, which you readily admit!And yet, he doesn't clearly and unambiguously say that he was a horrible brother and climbing partner during that descent. The closest he comes to admitting his mistake is when he writes:"Felix Kuen was also one and a half hours ahead of his climbing partner when he reached the summit. Sigi Löw lagged behind during the descent from the summit in 1962 and fell. The very nature of the glacier also caused us to be so far apart."B******t. No glacier forces two climbers to be 90 minutes apart!On the contrary! Most glaciers force climbers to rope up together in case one falls into a crevasse. Instead, "Messner explains that it's standard practice among mountaineers for the partner who is feeling fitter to go first to find the best way down through crevasses."Yes, but not 90 minutes ahead!!!I hoped that 80-year-old Messner would not spend 25% of the book disproving the lies or stupid hypotheses of his critics.Instead, he should have simply said, "I regret not staying close to Gunther throughout the descent. Yes, that might mean that we would both get caught in a deadly avalanche, but given his weakened state, I should never have gotten 90 minutes ahead of him. Ten minutes max. I screwed up."Another bewildering part of the book:"I have been ostracized, slandered, and harmed by people I have shared personal bonds with. The worst thing for me was when I was kicked out of my family home at the age of seventy-five, by my wife. I was given no warning or reason. Despite being often apart from my wife and children while on my many expeditions, I am a family man.We also traveled to places together and I was often at home for months at a time."WTF? Really? "No warning or reason"? C'mon, Messner. If you have no clue why your 2nd wife kicked you out, you're not only the Greatest Mountaineer of All Time (GOAT), but you're also the Most Oblivious Man of All Time. OTHER TIDBITSHe writes, "I've had heart surgery twice." I didn't know, but that suggests he's probably in his final decade.He writes, "I failed three times on an eight-thousander."I wish he reflected on those failures. As Nietzsche puts it: “There are two types of tragedy in our lives. Not reaching our goals—and even worse, reaching our goals.”CONCLUSIONThis book is filled with flaws and is disappointing. Messner wastes all his reflections on his critics. How shallow.You'd think a god like Messner would rise above such petty people and their words. You'd think one of the most mentally tough people in history would not have such thin skin and a fragile ego that any stupid critic can make mighty Messner squirm and get defensive.Who cares?! You're MESSNER! The GOAT!Messner should make a poster in his house that quotes Finnish composer Jean Sibelius, who said, "No one ever erected a statue of a critic." Messner will have statues and accolades forever. His critics will be forgotten.It's so sad to see that they get underneath his thin skin.I was hoping he was tougher and could brush them off like he brushes off the lack of oxygen.So why do I give it 4 stars instead of 1 star?Because, like it or not, the book is a window into Messner's soul.And I find that revealing and interesting, even if it's a bit disappointing. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit ftapon.substack.com

Today on Sound Doctrine we'll learn that on our own we all fall short of a right standing with God. But the good news is, Jesus can provide the righteousness we need. That comes to our attention in Romans chapter three, verses nineteen through twenty-three. To support this ministry financially, visit: https://www.oneplace.com/donate/621/29

Amy and Riley talk about various films for 7 minutes! If you enjoyed this teaser, join the Turtle Time Patreon and become a Villa Rosa VIP to hear the full episode and access exclusive bonus content! We'll be recapping the Vanderpump Rules series from the beginning each week. And if you need even more Turtle Time in your life, follow us on ⁠TikTok⁠ or ⁠Instagram⁠. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Leaders, you might call it flexibility, but your team calls it chaos. Tammy J. Bond cuts through the "hybrid fantasy" that believes simple Slack chats can replace connection, clarity, and collaboration. She exposes the silent culture split created by hybrid models, arguing that failure is rooted not in location, but in disconnection and unstable leadership. This episode provides the strategic framework for leaders to start intentionally engineering trust to make hybrid work successful. Key Leadership Insights & Hard Truths: The Hybrid Fantasy: The belief that a few Zoom calls and Slack channels can organically thread connection and clarity is false. Studies show this level of casual connection does not suffice. The Culture Split: Hybrid work creates division. Office workers resent remote workers (assuming they work less), and remote workers feel invisible and disconnected from impromptu "hallway decisions." The Core Problem: Hybrid teams fail because of disconnection, not location. Leaders often confuse visibility (screen time) with actual productivity and meaningful engagement. The Unstable Wi-Fi is You: "It's not the Wi-Fi that's unstable in their work environment, it's your leadership connection to them." The Danger of Over-Accommodation: Leaders often say yes to every schedule to "keep the peace," under-communicate, and mismanage accountability, leading to performance issues and the language of assumption ("I thought you meant," "I assumed"). Friendship is Not a Strategy: Leader, you haven't changed you yet. Simply offering a hybrid model won't work if you haven't sharpened your own leadership skills in setting clear expectations. 4 Pillars of Intentional Hybrid Leadership: Re-establish Shared Rhythm (Not Just Scheduling): Replace random meetings with rituals (e.g., Monday Momentum check-ins, Friday Feedback sessions, a 30-second Praise Celebration). Use communication tools for quick, bottom-line check-ins, not endless dialogues. Define Outcomes, Not Hours: If you are measuring success by online status or screen time, "you're running a daycare, not a business." Clarify what "done well" and "complete" looks like, using the simple SBI+E Model (Situation, Behavior, Impact, Expectation) for performance feedback. Rebuild Connection Intentionally: Hybrid trust must be engineered on purpose. This involves celebrating small wins out loud, pairing up office/remote partners, and creating non-meeting connection moments (like a remote "Drink and Think"). Stop Letting Convenience Replace Courage: You must have the bold conversations. Ask what's working/not working, and if a hybrid worker claims higher productivity, tie it to an objective desk audit of project updates, timelines, and KPIs. Shut up and listen, then ask the next best follow-up question. Actionable Challenge for Leaders: Your job this week is to define the rules of your Hybrid Sandbox before chaos defines them for you: Audit your team's rhythms. Clarify expectations in one single conversation. Have your team email you back what they heard you say and what you can count on them for. Create one connection moment that does not involve another meeting (e.g., a team "drink (coffee/tea) & think" session).

A round-up of the main headlines in Sweden on October 30th 2025. You can hear more reports on our homepage www.radiosweden.se, or in the app Sveriges Radio. Presenter and producer: Michael Walsh

It's coming up one month into the Government shutdown with no end in sight.  The Democrats insist on having over $1 Trillion in wasteful spending.  Democrats had their, "Hate America," rallies across the country and most were trying to provoke violence.  Most of them have gone crazy.  More and more people are predicting that Minnesota may flip Red next year.   The U.S. military is blowing up drug boats that were set to sail to the United States.  Democrats are freaking out about the ballroom that is being added on to the White House.  There is a fake AI video out there that appears to show Dan Bongino saying that the Secret Service has been compromised and that President Trump may be in danger.  -Thank you for listening!- 

In this action-packed episode of **Chic Chat**, Amanda and Wendy dive deep into **left-foot braking** — the game-changing off-road technique that loads your driveline, prevents axle snaps, and gives you *poor-man's locker* control on rocks, climbs, and descents. Whether you're rock crawling in SoCal or tackling desert obstacles, learn: ✅ How to use **left foot on brake + right foot on gas** for smooth, controlled power ✅ Why it feels *weird at first* (and how to practice safely on small rocks) ✅ Real trail examples: cresting rocks without slipping back, avoiding momentum loss ✅ Pro tip: **Don't mash both pedals!** It's about *light, flexible pressure* Then we shift gears into **spotting mastery** — because great wheeling needs great guidance:

What does it take to turn tragedy into advocacy, and advocacy into lasting change? This week, Reid and Aria are talking to Warriors head coach Steve Kerr and Kris Brown, president of Brady, the nation's oldest gun violence prevention organization. Together, they explore how sports, storytelling, and civic engagement can move the needle on one of America's most polarizing issues: guns. In the first part of this episode, Steve and Kris share the personal and political roots of their partnership. They also dive into the movement for safer gun storage, smart firearm technology, and the bipartisan momentum that's possible when we lead with empathy over fear. In the second part, the conversation turns to the future of basketball and leadership. Steve reflects on lessons from Phil Jackson and Gregg Popovich, the power of authenticity and collaboration, and how AI, analytics, and even robotics are reshaping the NBA.  For more info on the podcast and transcripts of all the episodes, visit https://www.possible.fm/podcast/  Topics: 01:14 - Hellos and intros 03:28 - Collaboration is the cornerstone of Steve's leadership philosophy  04:22 - Imposter syndrome, playing under Phil Jackson and Greg Popovich, and coaching Draymond Green  06:02 - Steve's personal experience with gun violence and using his platform to drive change 07:17 - Lessons Kris learned from working on the Brady Bill  10:43 - Gemini explains the landmark Brady Bill and how it passed 11:48 - Origins of Steve and Brady's partnership  16:55 - Building bipartisan support for gun violence prevention, like the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act 21:21 - Smart gun technology, gun safes, and other technological solutions 25:27 - “Shut up and dribble” comment and the pushback athletes receive when they speak up 27:29 - Social media as a tool to create cultural change  29:39 - Kris answers the last rapid-fire question and says her goodbyes 32:33 - Midroll 32:38 - Steve digs deeper into Phil Jackson and Greg Popovich's coaching styles 34:40 - Inspiration v. comparison 35:22 - Hiring staff who bring specific strengths helps form a stronger team 36:21 - Endgame instincts as a coach 39:37 - Helping players navigate modern-age attention and public opinions on social media 42:01 - Internal leadership from players is crucial and Steph Curry as an example 44:33 - How NBA analytics have evolved 46:52 - The Warriors are planning to implement AI-powered robots into their training 47:56 - Players wear monitors that analyze their performance data 49:17 - Discoveries from players' performance data  50:46 - Analyzing game footage with AI, facial recognition technology, and learning that Steph Curry logs the most miles ran per game in the league 52:56 - Using game footage data to learn opponents' patterns and build game plans 54:05 - Correlating physical condition and shot success percentage for each player 56:19 - Rapid-fire questions  Select mentions:  Phil Jackson Greg Popovich Brady Bill Uvalde school shooting Bipartisan Safer Communities Act End Family Fire Campaign Maxwell Frost Matthew McConaughey Dan Grunfeld Lopez Twins Maverick: More than a Game by Phil Jackson and Charley Rosen Daryl Morey A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles March for Our Lives Possible is an award-winning podcast that sketches out the brightest version of the future—and what it will take to get there. Most of all, it asks: what if, in the future, everything breaks humanity's way? Tune in for grounded and speculative takes on how technology—and, in particular, AI—is inspiring change and transforming the future. Hosted by Reid Hoffman and Aria Finger, each episode features an interview with an ambitious builder or deep thinker on a topic, from art to geopolitics and from healthcare to education. These conversations also showcase another kind of guest: AI. Each episode seeks to enhance and advance our discussion about what humanity could possibly get right if we leverage technology—and our collective effort—effectively.

GC13 and David discuss The Shut-In! from Amphibia in honor of the approach of Halloween. The Shut-In may definitely not be a holiday, but when kids are going door to door with a background of jack-o-lanterns (sorry, fear gourds!) it's hard not to call it one, even if they're asking for practical supplies instead of … Continue reading

(00:00-28:19) Shut up Pat, give me Piddles. Doug hates Tucker Kraft. A Mizzou loss brings 'em out. Early audio from Gabe getting banty during his post-game show. Ben Affleck meme outside a stoop. Robert Boots misses again. Tim's SEC kicker spreadsheet. Most frustrating parts of what went down on Saturday in Nashville. Hardy's gotta get the ball on the goal line. Great performance by the defense. Matt Zollers looked good.(28:26-44:54) Hugh Freeze got himself a stay of execution against Arkansas. Some attractive jobs are gonna be open. Is Drink going to stay? The Brian Kelly era at LSU is over. $54M buyout. Something wrong, Martin? Run it back with Coach O.(45:04-55:42) Can't trust that 4-0 lead in hockey. Audio of Drink talking about being out of the SEC title picture but not being out of the playoff picture. Bowl bound and free football. Drink 0-14 against teams that have finished with a winning record in the SEC. Some questionable officiating.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

The Steve Harvey Morning Show for Thursday, October 23rd, 2025: Steve Harvey's Morning Inspiration | Show Open | Run That Prank Back - "You Didn't Fall & You Ain't Getting No Money" | Ask The CLO | Entertainment News | Relationship Money | Steve Harvey's Voicemail | Nephew Tommy's Prank - "You Prayed For A Job" | Strawberry Letter - "He Shut Me Down" Parts 1-2 | Fall Chili | Social Media Advice | Louvre Robbery | Would You Rather | Show Close - Thoughts On Government ShutdownSupport the show: https://www.steveharveyfm.com/See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The Strawberry Letter heard on The Steve Harvey Morning Show Thursday, October 23rd, 2025. Subject: "He Shut Me Down"See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Harry talks with a great set of Talking Feds stalwarts—Charlie Sykes, Ali Vitali, and Jacob Weisberg—to get a handle on the fast-changing politics of the shutdown, the worthiness of the case against John Bolton, and the new group chat scandal roiling the GOP. Why is Vice President J.D. Vance calling criticism of leaked racist messages by rising Republicans "pearl-clutching"? Is the indictment against John Bolton just another political prosecution? And are top Republicans gearing up to give into Democrats on healthcare to get the government reopened? Mentioned in this episode: Charlie's Substack: https://charliesykes.substack.com/ Ali's interview with Senate Leader John Thune: https://www.msnbc.com/msnbc/news/thune-msnbc-offered-democrats-vote-obamacare-subsidies-rcna237914 Politico's story revealing a Young Republicans groupchat: https://www.politico.com/news/2025/10/14/private-chat-among-young-gop-club-members-00592146 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices