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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

Our celebration of "Noirvember" continues with the cast of The Maltese Falcon - the classic adaptation of Dashiell Hammett's celebrated novel. Peter Lorre plays a husband with a plot to dispose of his wife and her lover in "Till Death Do Us Part" (originally aired on CBS on December 15, 1942). Mary Astor is on the other side of the equation, as she plans to kill her husband and his girlfriend before they bump her off in "In Fear and Trembling" (originally aired on February 16, 1943). Humphrey Bogart stars in an adaptation of James M. Cain's gangland drama "Love's Lovely Counterfeit" (originally aired on CBS on March 8, 1945). And Sydney Greenstreet portrays John Dickson Carr's master sleuth Dr. Gideon Fell in the surviving half of "The Hangman Won't Wait" (originally aired on CBS on February 9, 1943)...and since only fifteen minutes of Mr. Greenstreet just won't do, we'll also hear him as Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe in "The Case of the Careworn Cuff" (originally aired on NBC on October 27, 1950). Then, all four stars recreate their film roles for The Screen Guild Theatre (originally aired on CBS on September 20, 1943).

Sacrificing Her Dignity, or Her Husband's Life? The doctor tells her what she has to do to save her husband. Based on a post by Dan Draper Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Robert's Decline. The wait was excruciating for Robert Carson. He and his wife, Stella, have been waiting in the doctor's office for nearly half an hour, waiting for the results of his medical tests. Robert hasn't been feeling well for several months. No other doctor has been able to figure out what was wrong with him. The other doctors were able to determine that it was not cancer or a heart condition, which Robert was grateful to hear, but still couldn't come up with any other explanation for what was wrong with him. Two of Stella's lady friends recently lost their husbands, and Robert's condition seems very similar to those men. The widows weren't as helpful as Stella hoped. Connie just said; “I guess I knew Bill was going downhill. It's one thing to prolong living, but why prolong dying, Stella?” Finally, they were sent to Dr. Morris, a specialist on men's health and geriatrics; to determine what might be wrong with him. Patients from all over the country came to see him for medical problems no other doctor could solve. Robert and Stella were lucky that they were able to get an appointment with him. When Stella mentioned to Carol about the appointment with Dr. Morris, Carol just said; “He's an asshole.“ But Carol refused to talk about it anymore. Last week, Connie asked Stella if Robert could come by and change the furnace filters. But Stella thought it was just because Connie was lonely, and maybe desperate for a man's attention. “Sorry, Connie, Robert's doing a long list of chores and is not available.” She suggested finding a handyman. ‘Damn if I'll let that hottie anywhere near my man!' Stella resolved. At The Men's Clinic. After several days of tests, where every aspect of his body was thoroughly examined, they were asked to come in, to go over the final results. Dr. Morris finally arrived. He was an older man with thin-rimmed glasses and a big smile on his face. He greeted Robert and Stella, apologized for being late, and sat down behind his desk. "So, I've got good news for you, Robert. You should be just fine," said Dr. Morris. Robert and Stella both let out a big sigh of relief. After having to wait so long in the office, they were both worried that it meant bad news. "So, what's going on with me, Doc?" Robert asked. "Why do I feel sick all the time?" The doctor answered. "It's a progressive neurological condition that's throwing off your biological functions. It should be easy to take care of with a simple set of treatment regimens.  There are no medical out-of-pocket costs, under your health insurance. You'll have to keep up with the treatments for the rest of your life, but other than that, you'll live a long, happy, and healthy life." “What do I have to give up, Doc?” Robert braced himself for a lecture. “Dr. Morris chuckled; “Robert, if the treatment is implemented, not only will you improve, you'll also love the treatments.” "That's great to hear, doctor," said Stella very happily. "I've been worried sick about Robert for months now." "That brings me to you, Stella," said Dr. Morris. "I need to talk to you in private, if you don't mind." Robert and Stella gave each other a concerning look, then looked back at Dr. Morris. "Is something wrong?" Stella asked. "I just want to talk to you about some simple things you can do, to help make Robert feel better, Mrs. Carson," Dr. Morris assured her. "Robert, you don't need to wait around and listen to these lengthy, boring details. You should probably wait in the lobby. She'll go over the process with you, when we're done." "He's probably right, honey," said Stella. "In fact; get yourself some fresh air. I'll meet you at the café next door, a little later." Robert agreed to leave. He was tired of all these damned doctor visits, and was glad to be out of there. He was sick of Stella nagging him about going to the doctors for stupid stuff. Now he heard the first good news about his condition in months, and couldn't wait to finally be done with doctors. Robert shook the doctor's hand, thanked him for his help, and left the office. When Dr. Morris was sure that Robert was gone, he turned his attention to Stella. "Mrs. Carson; Stella, your husband is chronically ill," Dr. Morris revealed. "His condition is much more serious than I let on." "What?" Stella asked, with a shocked expression. "How much time does he have left." "A few weeks, at the most." Stella was now trembling and breathing heavily. She could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest. She had never felt so scared about anything in her life. Several of her lady friends were already widows. She and Robert were just beginning retirement and she had so many plans for him. "This is unbelievable. Why the hell did you tell him that he was going to live?" she asked. "Because I needed him out of the office, So I could talk to you about his condition, and how you're the only one who could help him. I've seen this situation before. This is deeply personal stuff. I need to talk to you about things that usually are better said, when I talk to the wife about it in private." The Treatment Plan. "Okay, I think I understand." said Stella, as she began to calm down a little. "I need my husband! I'll do anything to help my husband. Tell me what I need to do." "First, you need to know that there are both physical and psychological impairments that are progressing rapidly. We need to aggressively treat everything, and all at once. The treatment needs to be applied with cheerful enthusiasm and It's most successful when the wife has processed the plan fully, and details it to her ailing husband. “ “But what is this treatment? What does it involve?” We cannot risk Robert hearing your negative responses, but to be fair; you will need to let yourself process this information honestly and openly, without hurting Robert any more than he's already suffering.” “I see.” Stella said, nervously. “I'm already feeling some anxiety about what you're going to tell me.”  Let's start with his diet. I understand you got him on a vegan diet. Is that right?" "Yes, it's much healthier," said Stella. "Stop that immediately; that diet is killing him," he told her. "But it's a healthier lifestyle and Robert loves it." Dr. Morris continued. "It is healthier for most people, but not for people with Robert's condition. That diet is throwing off the neurological functions of his brain, and that's affecting his entire body. He needs to start eating meat immediately. He needs iron and protein from beef. Pork and poultry are okay, but beef is especially therapeutic." Stella was stunned by the revelation. She was sure being a vegan was a healthy way to live, but she had no idea that it was hurting Robert. She would not have pushed him to do it if she knew what it was doing to him. "Okay, I'll start getting him on all kinds of meat right away," she assured the doctor. "It's not just meat he needs to start eating. You need to cook for him whatever he likes as well. If he suggests it, you can't question it. Just cook it for him, no matter what it is. Don't trust restaurants to do this. You need to know what's in the food he consumes. And you must be punctual with his regular mealtimes." "Yes, of course I will," Stella replied nervously. "That's good to hear. Now that brings me to my next subject. He shouldn't be doing so much physical labor around the house. He's too weak to be doing this stuff, so it needs to all be done by you. At least for the first  months, and then he might bounce back enough to do a little more. Yardwork, moving furniture, plumbing, painting, electrical problems, and so on. Anything you expect a husband should be doing around the house now needs to be done by you alone." "But I already do all the traditional duties of a housewife. Do I have to do that stuff as well?" she asked, perplexed. "Yes, you have to do it all," Dr. Morris continued. "And don't pay anybody to do this stuff either, it all needs to be done by you. He specifically told me that he's been really stressed about money lately. So, having to spend more money on people to do work around the house would be very stressful for him. And that stress could have a terrible effect on his neurological disorder. You being so needy, is a huge part of the neurological decline he's facing." "Um, Okay, I'll try my best," said Stella. "I'll do all of his chores, and I think I can get one or two people who could help me for free, so no money will be involved." "Excellent, this is going much better than I hoped. Most wives I've had to tell this to, are not as agreeable as you're being. Now, I must emphasize this next part. Don't criticize or hen-peck him. Any more. It emasculates him. His testosterone is so low, But fake testosterone shots don't fix this set of complications. Too many men turn to androgen and end up with prostate cancer." "As I said, I am willing to do anything to help Robert." "That brings me to my next subject, and this is where it gets very personal," the doctor began to say. "You need to be more sexually available for him." "Are you sure? We already have a very good sex life as it is," Stella revealed. "Even with his illness, we try to be sexual once a week, sometimes more, if I straddle his face." Dr. Morris continued. "Well, it needs to be a lot more than that. As much sex as you two are having right now, he has not been getting as much sex as he needs. You need to double, even triple the amount of sex you two are already having." "What?" she asked, very confused. "His libido needs to be in overdrive, because of his neurological disorder, and by not fulfilling those sexual needs, it's hurting his body and weakening his immune system." "He never told me he needed more sex." "He told me specifically that. Out of concern for you, he didn't want to pressure you for more sex. So, I'm telling you for him; that you need to copulate with your husband a lot more, if you want him to live. Nagging him is a big part of what's killing him. And never use sex as a bargaining device, ever! He needs to know that you just can't wait for your next romp." "Oh, wow," Stella said, very shocked at what she had just heard. "I always thought we had plenty of sex already. My girlfriends are jealous of me for it. But Okay, if I have to, I'll give him more sex." Stella began to wonder when she would have time to triple the amount of sex she already had with Robert when the doctor had already told her she had to do so much more around the house for him. "That brings me to the different acts of sex you have. How often do you give him fellatio? You know? Oral?" Stella began to feel embarrassed. She had no idea of how personal this was all going to be. "Occasionally, well, one his birthday, or if I feel guilty about something," she replied. "But do you bring him to completion?" Dr. Morris asked. "Sometimes." "And when you do, do you swallow; or let him cum on you?" "A little of both, I guess." "You need to start swallowing his cum every single time," said Dr. Morris. "And I don't just mean only whatever shoots out into your mouth. You must suck out whatever remains in his penis after he has finished ejaculating. Leaving any cum inside of his dick after a blowjob could be detrimental to his already compromised psyche." Swallowing his ejaculate is a powerful way of showing him how desirable he still is. He must see himself as a desirable man.” "Um; sure, whatever you say." Stella didn't mind swallowing her husband's cum, she just didn't like to do it every single time. She preferred that he cums on her face or tits, after a blowjob, or that he waits to cum in her vaginally. But she told herself that she was willing to swallow every drop of cum, if it meant helping Robert. "And you need to fondle his testicles a little, while you're blowing him." "Huh?" she asked, very confused. "His testicles are very problematic right now, and a good massage with your tongue could be very helpful. The circulation improves, and is essential to production of both sperm and natural testosterone." Stella sat there, wide-eyed from having to listen to all of this. She wanted to question the doctor about the reasoning for all of this. But she decided that he was the expert, and she should probably listen to what he had to say, even if she didn't entirely understand any of it. "Is there anything else?" she asked, feeling a little worried about what she might hear next. "Yes, he needs to stop providing you with oral sex as well." "What?" Stella snapped at him. "It's not good for him. He says you're using estrogen cream. Is that accurate?” “Yes, I apply it vaginally, once a week. “ “You need to apply it at least 4 times a week. It helps your vagina restore firm and ridged walls. That is essential to aiding Robert's sexual stimulation. He's developing some neuropathy of his glans penis. But the cream, while essential to the lifesaving treatment regimen; is contraindicated for his testosterone levels. You need to coat his penis with a massage oil prior to intercourse, so that his skin does not absorb your estrogen. The oil also aides his sensory functions. Quadrupling the estrogen will also make your sexual tasks much, much more pleasant, and even help you be more enthusiastic about his needs.” “Do I need a prescription oil?” “No, Sweet Almond oil is odorless and inexpensive. The neurological disorder is causing his body much stress, both physically and psychologically. But back to the matter of orally arousing you. He needs to focus on pleasure, not stress. Worrying about getting you off, will only exacerbate this situation even more." "Can he at least finger me?" she choked back her tears, hoping for a positive answer. "Only lightly, and never to get you to orgasm. Your body needs to be optimal for aiding his vaginal copulation. If you orgasm before he's ready to, the withdrawal which your vagina goes through, will thwart his treatment success." "You have got to be fucking kidding me?" Stella said, as she was starting to get angry at the doctor. Dr. Morris continued his explanation. "In fact, he also shouldn't be working to get you to orgasm during vaginal sex, either. It would stress out his neurological disorder if he had to concentrate on getting you off. You should just let him have sex with you, focus on getting his own orgasm, and focus on the relaxation he derives from accomplishing it. And you need to be happy about it; to make him happy, so he won't stress out about having to get you off as well." Stella was seriously getting pissed off right now. She was being asked to give up so much for her husband already, and now she was being asked to give up all of her own sexual priorities. "Is there anything else I should know about?" She asked, trying to keep herself from screaming at him. "Okay, let's move on to the next part of his treatment objectives. Do you have any attractive friends?" Stella was afraid of where this was going, but she thought she needed to be honest with the doctor. "Yes, a few of them are very attractive," she answered. She almost audibly added, ‘with sexier bodies than mine.' "Can you refer me to one of them?" A Team Effort. Stella felt confused, but also a little relieved. She was afraid he was going to suggest that also Robert fuck her girlfriends, for the betterment of his health. Asking her if she could hook him up with one of her attractive friends, was still very strange and probably unethical, but it was still better than what she had thought. "No, I'm sorry, doctor. I'm not comfortable with hooking you up with any of my friends." "That's no problem," said Dr. Morris. "But it's probably best that you get your friends to fuck Robert as much as possible." "Dammit!" Stella screamed. "You can't be serious." "It's for the betterment of his health," Dr. Morris assured her. "By having sexual relations with other women;" "That's it, I'm calling bullshit on all of this!" Stella yelled at him. "This has got to either be a messed-up joke or some kind of fucking scam you're pulling. There's no way all this needs to be done for my husband's health." "I assure you, Stella, this is all real. He'll be dead very soon if you don't." "No way. You're lying about all of this. In fact, I think Robert is probably in on all of this, too; so he could get whatever he wants, even more sex from me and other women." To prove he was telling the truth, Dr. Morris spent the next hour providing Stella with absolute proof of Robert's condition. He not only showed Robert's medical results, but also documentation and studies of Robert's condition, provided by hundreds of doctors over the last 50 years; to show the methods of treating his condition. He even showed her online interviews of women who had to do the same exact things that Dr. Morris suggested, for their own husbands; and how it helped save their husbands' lives. Stella was dumbfounded when she saw all this evidence. She looked over every detail, trying to find something to suggest the doctor was wrong, or lying to her about everything. Eventually, Stella had no choice but to concede that not only was Dr. Morris telling the truth, but also that Robert needed all of those things that the doctor told her to do for him, in order for him to live. “Mrs. Carson; your husband is a devoted man. Perhaps to a fault. He perceives that he's no longer sufficient for you. And it registers as rejection, in his psyche. Rather than fooling around behind your back, he has man you too influential. You control his self-esteem. Your libido is waning, but he really believes that you're less than satisfied, and he subconsciously translates that as his becoming less and less of a man. He won't ask for more, because he fears rejection, and the crushing effect it would have on his fragile self-image.” “His emotional damages are now becoming physiological impairments. As you fully and earnestly implement these therapies; and I mean all of them; Robert will come alive, again. Psychologically, he's become very emasculated. Psychiatrists often mis-diagnose this as clinical depression. But their psychotropic drugs only make the condition worse. He'd become completely impotent, and probably suicidal. But we're not done going over the treatment plan, yet. Shall we continue?” "Okay, I concede that everything you're telling me is absolutely true," said Stella. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you before. I'll do everything you say, and I'll see what I can do to get my attractive girlfriends to fuck Robert. If any of them say no, I'll help him get sexual satisfaction from other women, no matter what. I just can't see how sharing him with other women will save his life?" "Mrs. Carson; the treatment protocols will reset his self-image, impressing upon him that you know he's a very desirable man. Your love will manifest as selflessness and self-reflection. It will impress upon him that he's so amazing and desirable to all women.” “I'm sure this is not going to be easy for you, since you're being asked to do a lot to help Robert," said Dr. Morris. "But you'll be doing a great thing for him, and he can live a long and happy life. He admits that he's been cranky and impatient, Mrs. Carson. I can encourage you by saying that women who adopt these changes, all say that their husbands are so much more pleasant to be around. Some of them even return to more recreation and entertainment, eventually." "As long as he gets to live, that's all that matters," said Stella. "That's good to hear," said the doctor. "Inviting a girlfriend to join your sexual treatments, will be a way of dealing with your own orgasms, so long as one of you two ladies save yourselves for Robert, first. If a girlfriend stimulates you to orgasm, it must be in Robert's presence, and You have to let him have his way with your girlfriend, before she has an orgasm by your ministrations.” “Do I have to be there while he fucks my girlfriend? I don't think I can bear to watch him fuck another woman, especially one of my floozy friends?” “Yes! He needs to see her as a gift from you, for his healthy recovery. The stress of feeling like he's cheating on you; could kill him. Trust me. Men die during sex, because of the stress they undergo. We just don't report that the death was from sex-related stress. The survivors are simply told that they died in their sleep.” “Oh! Two of my girlfriends said their husbands died in bed. This really is serious, isn't it, Doctor?” Stella thought about Carol, her friend from the Bridge Club. Carol used to gripe about how disgusting her husband would be about sex. But last spring, Carol said she came home from brunch and errands, only to find Carl lying lifeless and naked in bed, at 1:30 in the afternoon. Carol claims it was his heart condition and stress, that killed him. Now Carol is angry with Carl for disserting her, and now she's miserable. “By the way, you also need to let him copulate anally, with you, especially early on, while his sensory nerves are limited by penile neuropathy. Your vagina will restore it's tight and ridged attributes after a few weeks of regular Estrogen cream therapy. Then Robert will find your vagina sufficient to arouse and stimulate his glans nerves, and he'll have much better sexual response. But until then, Use a lube and utilize the attributes of your anal muscles, to achieve the immediate outcomes he needs right away." "Sure, why not?" Stella replied sullenly. "Also, when he has sex with other women involved, I emphasize that you always be there, and join them. And definitely let him sit back and watch you ladies have sexual pleasures. Don't allow him to further shame himself by thinking he's not faithful to you. He will always be faithful to you, Mrs. Carson. It may kill him, but he will always be faithful. That's who he is. If you arrange the events and keep a happy attitude about it, He will see it as a complimentary dynamic, and not a competitive threat. Do you want me to explain to you why that's important?" "No need. I'm sure there's a good reason for all of that as well." When they were finally done, Dr. Morris walked her out to the nurse's station and handed her a written directive for treatment. They shook hands and said their goodbyes. Stella left the doctor's office, thinking about all the humiliating tasks she was directed to provide. She put the 6 pages of directives in her purse, and went to the café, next door, where Robert was waiting for her at a corner table. She sat in the chair in front of him, and he handed her the coffee that he had ready for her. "You were with the doctor for a long time. Is everything alright?" Robert asked. "Robert,” Stella paused. The prospect of no more of his skilled cunnilingus, overwhelmed her.  “There's no easy way for me to tell you this, Robert.” Stella thought about the anal sex they once tried, some 25 years ago. It was so degrading to her. Trembling, she blurted out; “Robert. you're going to die." "What?" Robert shouted. "Doc said he was confident that I was going to be just fine." "He lied! He just didn't want to be the one to tell you, so he wanted me to tell you for him. He's a fucking coward. He was crying like a little bitch after you left. We're never going back to him, again! I'm so sorry, Robert, but that's how it is." "How much time do I have left?" "A few weeks; at the most." Robert was hyperventilating. He had never felt so scared in his life. "Oh my God. Is there anything that can be done to save me?" Robert asked. "Absolutely nothing," she replied. “I don't know how I'm going to go on, after you're gone, Robert. Hold me, please! Based on a post by Dan Draper, for Literotica.

Sacrificing Her Dignity, or Her Husband's Life? The doctor tells her what she has to do to save her husband. Based on a post by Dan Draper Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Robert's Decline. The wait was excruciating for Robert Carson. He and his wife, Stella, have been waiting in the doctor's office for nearly half an hour, waiting for the results of his medical tests. Robert hasn't been feeling well for several months. No other doctor has been able to figure out what was wrong with him. The other doctors were able to determine that it was not cancer or a heart condition, which Robert was grateful to hear, but still couldn't come up with any other explanation for what was wrong with him. Two of Stella's lady friends recently lost their husbands, and Robert's condition seems very similar to those men. The widows weren't as helpful as Stella hoped. Connie just said; “I guess I knew Bill was going downhill. It's one thing to prolong living, but why prolong dying, Stella?” Finally, they were sent to Dr. Morris, a specialist on men's health and geriatrics; to determine what might be wrong with him. Patients from all over the country came to see him for medical problems no other doctor could solve. Robert and Stella were lucky that they were able to get an appointment with him. When Stella mentioned to Carol about the appointment with Dr. Morris, Carol just said; “He's an asshole.“ But Carol refused to talk about it anymore. Last week, Connie asked Stella if Robert could come by and change the furnace filters. But Stella thought it was just because Connie was lonely, and maybe desperate for a man's attention. “Sorry, Connie, Robert's doing a long list of chores and is not available.” She suggested finding a handyman. ‘Damn if I'll let that hottie anywhere near my man!' Stella resolved. At The Men's Clinic. After several days of tests, where every aspect of his body was thoroughly examined, they were asked to come in, to go over the final results. Dr. Morris finally arrived. He was an older man with thin-rimmed glasses and a big smile on his face. He greeted Robert and Stella, apologized for being late, and sat down behind his desk. "So, I've got good news for you, Robert. You should be just fine," said Dr. Morris. Robert and Stella both let out a big sigh of relief. After having to wait so long in the office, they were both worried that it meant bad news. "So, what's going on with me, Doc?" Robert asked. "Why do I feel sick all the time?" The doctor answered. "It's a progressive neurological condition that's throwing off your biological functions. It should be easy to take care of with a simple set of treatment regimens.  There are no medical out-of-pocket costs, under your health insurance. You'll have to keep up with the treatments for the rest of your life, but other than that, you'll live a long, happy, and healthy life." “What do I have to give up, Doc?” Robert braced himself for a lecture. “Dr. Morris chuckled; “Robert, if the treatment is implemented, not only will you improve, you'll also love the treatments.” "That's great to hear, doctor," said Stella very happily. "I've been worried sick about Robert for months now." "That brings me to you, Stella," said Dr. Morris. "I need to talk to you in private, if you don't mind." Robert and Stella gave each other a concerning look, then looked back at Dr. Morris. "Is something wrong?" Stella asked. "I just want to talk to you about some simple things you can do, to help make Robert feel better, Mrs. Carson," Dr. Morris assured her. "Robert, you don't need to wait around and listen to these lengthy, boring details. You should probably wait in the lobby. She'll go over the process with you, when we're done." "He's probably right, honey," said Stella. "In fact; get yourself some fresh air. I'll meet you at the café next door, a little later." Robert agreed to leave. He was tired of all these damned doctor visits, and was glad to be out of there. He was sick of Stella nagging him about going to the doctors for stupid stuff. Now he heard the first good news about his condition in months, and couldn't wait to finally be done with doctors. Robert shook the doctor's hand, thanked him for his help, and left the office. When Dr. Morris was sure that Robert was gone, he turned his attention to Stella. "Mrs. Carson; Stella, your husband is chronically ill," Dr. Morris revealed. "His condition is much more serious than I let on." "What?" Stella asked, with a shocked expression. "How much time does he have left." "A few weeks, at the most." Stella was now trembling and breathing heavily. She could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest. She had never felt so scared about anything in her life. Several of her lady friends were already widows. She and Robert were just beginning retirement and she had so many plans for him. "This is unbelievable. Why the hell did you tell him that he was going to live?" she asked. "Because I needed him out of the office, So I could talk to you about his condition, and how you're the only one who could help him. I've seen this situation before. This is deeply personal stuff. I need to talk to you about things that usually are better said, when I talk to the wife about it in private." The Treatment Plan. "Okay, I think I understand." said Stella, as she began to calm down a little. "I need my husband! I'll do anything to help my husband. Tell me what I need to do." "First, you need to know that there are both physical and psychological impairments that are progressing rapidly. We need to aggressively treat everything, and all at once. The treatment needs to be applied with cheerful enthusiasm and It's most successful when the wife has processed the plan fully, and details it to her ailing husband. “ “But what is this treatment? What does it involve?” We cannot risk Robert hearing your negative responses, but to be fair; you will need to let yourself process this information honestly and openly, without hurting Robert any more than he's already suffering.” “I see.” Stella said, nervously. “I'm already feeling some anxiety about what you're going to tell me.”  Let's start with his diet. I understand you got him on a vegan diet. Is that right?" "Yes, it's much healthier," said Stella. "Stop that immediately; that diet is killing him," he told her. "But it's a healthier lifestyle and Robert loves it." Dr. Morris continued. "It is healthier for most people, but not for people with Robert's condition. That diet is throwing off the neurological functions of his brain, and that's affecting his entire body. He needs to start eating meat immediately. He needs iron and protein from beef. Pork and poultry are okay, but beef is especially therapeutic." Stella was stunned by the revelation. She was sure being a vegan was a healthy way to live, but she had no idea that it was hurting Robert. She would not have pushed him to do it if she knew what it was doing to him. "Okay, I'll start getting him on all kinds of meat right away," she assured the doctor. "It's not just meat he needs to start eating. You need to cook for him whatever he likes as well. If he suggests it, you can't question it. Just cook it for him, no matter what it is. Don't trust restaurants to do this. You need to know what's in the food he consumes. And you must be punctual with his regular mealtimes." "Yes, of course I will," Stella replied nervously. "That's good to hear. Now that brings me to my next subject. He shouldn't be doing so much physical labor around the house. He's too weak to be doing this stuff, so it needs to all be done by you. At least for the first  months, and then he might bounce back enough to do a little more. Yardwork, moving furniture, plumbing, painting, electrical problems, and so on. Anything you expect a husband should be doing around the house now needs to be done by you alone." "But I already do all the traditional duties of a housewife. Do I have to do that stuff as well?" she asked, perplexed. "Yes, you have to do it all," Dr. Morris continued. "And don't pay anybody to do this stuff either, it all needs to be done by you. He specifically told me that he's been really stressed about money lately. So, having to spend more money on people to do work around the house would be very stressful for him. And that stress could have a terrible effect on his neurological disorder. You being so needy, is a huge part of the neurological decline he's facing." "Um, Okay, I'll try my best," said Stella. "I'll do all of his chores, and I think I can get one or two people who could help me for free, so no money will be involved." "Excellent, this is going much better than I hoped. Most wives I've had to tell this to, are not as agreeable as you're being. Now, I must emphasize this next part. Don't criticize or hen-peck him. Any more. It emasculates him. His testosterone is so low, But fake testosterone shots don't fix this set of complications. Too many men turn to androgen and end up with prostate cancer." "As I said, I am willing to do anything to help Robert." "That brings me to my next subject, and this is where it gets very personal," the doctor began to say. "You need to be more sexually available for him." "Are you sure? We already have a very good sex life as it is," Stella revealed. "Even with his illness, we try to be sexual once a week, sometimes more, if I straddle his face." Dr. Morris continued. "Well, it needs to be a lot more than that. As much sex as you two are having right now, he has not been getting as much sex as he needs. You need to double, even triple the amount of sex you two are already having." "What?" she asked, very confused. "His libido needs to be in overdrive, because of his neurological disorder, and by not fulfilling those sexual needs, it's hurting his body and weakening his immune system." "He never told me he needed more sex." "He told me specifically that. Out of concern for you, he didn't want to pressure you for more sex. So, I'm telling you for him; that you need to copulate with your husband a lot more, if you want him to live. Nagging him is a big part of what's killing him. And never use sex as a bargaining device, ever! He needs to know that you just can't wait for your next romp." "Oh, wow," Stella said, very shocked at what she had just heard. "I always thought we had plenty of sex already. My girlfriends are jealous of me for it. But Okay, if I have to, I'll give him more sex." Stella began to wonder when she would have time to triple the amount of sex she already had with Robert when the doctor had already told her she had to do so much more around the house for him. "That brings me to the different acts of sex you have. How often do you give him fellatio? You know? Oral?" Stella began to feel embarrassed. She had no idea of how personal this was all going to be. "Occasionally, well, one his birthday, or if I feel guilty about something," she replied. "But do you bring him to completion?" Dr. Morris asked. "Sometimes." "And when you do, do you swallow; or let him cum on you?" "A little of both, I guess." "You need to start swallowing his cum every single time," said Dr. Morris. "And I don't just mean only whatever shoots out into your mouth. You must suck out whatever remains in his penis after he has finished ejaculating. Leaving any cum inside of his dick after a blowjob could be detrimental to his already compromised psyche." Swallowing his ejaculate is a powerful way of showing him how desirable he still is. He must see himself as a desirable man.” "Um; sure, whatever you say." Stella didn't mind swallowing her husband's cum, she just didn't like to do it every single time. She preferred that he cums on her face or tits, after a blowjob, or that he waits to cum in her vaginally. But she told herself that she was willing to swallow every drop of cum, if it meant helping Robert. "And you need to fondle his testicles a little, while you're blowing him." "Huh?" she asked, very confused. "His testicles are very problematic right now, and a good massage with your tongue could be very helpful. The circulation improves, and is essential to production of both sperm and natural testosterone." Stella sat there, wide-eyed from having to listen to all of this. She wanted to question the doctor about the reasoning for all of this. But she decided that he was the expert, and she should probably listen to what he had to say, even if she didn't entirely understand any of it. "Is there anything else?" she asked, feeling a little worried about what she might hear next. "Yes, he needs to stop providing you with oral sex as well." "What?" Stella snapped at him. "It's not good for him. He says you're using estrogen cream. Is that accurate?” “Yes, I apply it vaginally, once a week. “ “You need to apply it at least 4 times a week. It helps your vagina restore firm and ridged walls. That is essential to aiding Robert's sexual stimulation. He's developing some neuropathy of his glans penis. But the cream, while essential to the lifesaving treatment regimen; is contraindicated for his testosterone levels. You need to coat his penis with a massage oil prior to intercourse, so that his skin does not absorb your estrogen. The oil also aides his sensory functions. Quadrupling the estrogen will also make your sexual tasks much, much more pleasant, and even help you be more enthusiastic about his needs.” “Do I need a prescription oil?” “No, Sweet Almond oil is odorless and inexpensive. The neurological disorder is causing his body much stress, both physically and psychologically. But back to the matter of orally arousing you. He needs to focus on pleasure, not stress. Worrying about getting you off, will only exacerbate this situation even more." "Can he at least finger me?" she choked back her tears, hoping for a positive answer. "Only lightly, and never to get you to orgasm. Your body needs to be optimal for aiding his vaginal copulation. If you orgasm before he's ready to, the withdrawal which your vagina goes through, will thwart his treatment success." "You have got to be fucking kidding me?" Stella said, as she was starting to get angry at the doctor. Dr. Morris continued his explanation. "In fact, he also shouldn't be working to get you to orgasm during vaginal sex, either. It would stress out his neurological disorder if he had to concentrate on getting you off. You should just let him have sex with you, focus on getting his own orgasm, and focus on the relaxation he derives from accomplishing it. And you need to be happy about it; to make him happy, so he won't stress out about having to get you off as well." Stella was seriously getting pissed off right now. She was being asked to give up so much for her husband already, and now she was being asked to give up all of her own sexual priorities. "Is there anything else I should know about?" She asked, trying to keep herself from screaming at him. "Okay, let's move on to the next part of his treatment objectives. Do you have any attractive friends?" Stella was afraid of where this was going, but she thought she needed to be honest with the doctor. "Yes, a few of them are very attractive," she answered. She almost audibly added, ‘with sexier bodies than mine.' "Can you refer me to one of them?" A Team Effort. Stella felt confused, but also a little relieved. She was afraid he was going to suggest that also Robert fuck her girlfriends, for the betterment of his health. Asking her if she could hook him up with one of her attractive friends, was still very strange and probably unethical, but it was still better than what she had thought. "No, I'm sorry, doctor. I'm not comfortable with hooking you up with any of my friends." "That's no problem," said Dr. Morris. "But it's probably best that you get your friends to fuck Robert as much as possible." "Dammit!" Stella screamed. "You can't be serious." "It's for the betterment of his health," Dr. Morris assured her. "By having sexual relations with other women;" "That's it, I'm calling bullshit on all of this!" Stella yelled at him. "This has got to either be a messed-up joke or some kind of fucking scam you're pulling. There's no way all this needs to be done for my husband's health." "I assure you, Stella, this is all real. He'll be dead very soon if you don't." "No way. You're lying about all of this. In fact, I think Robert is probably in on all of this, too; so he could get whatever he wants, even more sex from me and other women." To prove he was telling the truth, Dr. Morris spent the next hour providing Stella with absolute proof of Robert's condition. He not only showed Robert's medical results, but also documentation and studies of Robert's condition, provided by hundreds of doctors over the last 50 years; to show the methods of treating his condition. He even showed her online interviews of women who had to do the same exact things that Dr. Morris suggested, for their own husbands; and how it helped save their husbands' lives. Stella was dumbfounded when she saw all this evidence. She looked over every detail, trying to find something to suggest the doctor was wrong, or lying to her about everything. Eventually, Stella had no choice but to concede that not only was Dr. Morris telling the truth, but also that Robert needed all of those things that the doctor told her to do for him, in order for him to live. “Mrs. Carson; your husband is a devoted man. Perhaps to a fault. He perceives that he's no longer sufficient for you. And it registers as rejection, in his psyche. Rather than fooling around behind your back, he has man you too influential. You control his self-esteem. Your libido is waning, but he really believes that you're less than satisfied, and he subconsciously translates that as his becoming less and less of a man. He won't ask for more, because he fears rejection, and the crushing effect it would have on his fragile self-image.” “His emotional damages are now becoming physiological impairments. As you fully and earnestly implement these therapies; and I mean all of them; Robert will come alive, again. Psychologically, he's become very emasculated. Psychiatrists often mis-diagnose this as clinical depression. But their psychotropic drugs only make the condition worse. He'd become completely impotent, and probably suicidal. But we're not done going over the treatment plan, yet. Shall we continue?” "Okay, I concede that everything you're telling me is absolutely true," said Stella. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you before. I'll do everything you say, and I'll see what I can do to get my attractive girlfriends to fuck Robert. If any of them say no, I'll help him get sexual satisfaction from other women, no matter what. I just can't see how sharing him with other women will save his life?" "Mrs. Carson; the treatment protocols will reset his self-image, impressing upon him that you know he's a very desirable man. Your love will manifest as selflessness and self-reflection. It will impress upon him that he's so amazing and desirable to all women.” “I'm sure this is not going to be easy for you, since you're being asked to do a lot to help Robert," said Dr. Morris. "But you'll be doing a great thing for him, and he can live a long and happy life. He admits that he's been cranky and impatient, Mrs. Carson. I can encourage you by saying that women who adopt these changes, all say that their husbands are so much more pleasant to be around. Some of them even return to more recreation and entertainment, eventually." "As long as he gets to live, that's all that matters," said Stella. "That's good to hear," said the doctor. "Inviting a girlfriend to join your sexual treatments, will be a way of dealing with your own orgasms, so long as one of you two ladies save yourselves for Robert, first. If a girlfriend stimulates you to orgasm, it must be in Robert's presence, and You have to let him have his way with your girlfriend, before she has an orgasm by your ministrations.” “Do I have to be there while he fucks my girlfriend? I don't think I can bear to watch him fuck another woman, especially one of my floozy friends?” “Yes! He needs to see her as a gift from you, for his healthy recovery. The stress of feeling like he's cheating on you; could kill him. Trust me. Men die during sex, because of the stress they undergo. We just don't report that the death was from sex-related stress. The survivors are simply told that they died in their sleep.” “Oh! Two of my girlfriends said their husbands died in bed. This really is serious, isn't it, Doctor?” Stella thought about Carol, her friend from the Bridge Club. Carol used to gripe about how disgusting her husband would be about sex. But last spring, Carol said she came home from brunch and errands, only to find Carl lying lifeless and naked in bed, at 1:30 in the afternoon. Carol claims it was his heart condition and stress, that killed him. Now Carol is angry with Carl for disserting her, and now she's miserable. “By the way, you also need to let him copulate anally, with you, especially early on, while his sensory nerves are limited by penile neuropathy. Your vagina will restore it's tight and ridged attributes after a few weeks of regular Estrogen cream therapy. Then Robert will find your vagina sufficient to arouse and stimulate his glans nerves, and he'll have much better sexual response. But until then, Use a lube and utilize the attributes of your anal muscles, to achieve the immediate outcomes he needs right away." "Sure, why not?" Stella replied sullenly. "Also, when he has sex with other women involved, I emphasize that you always be there, and join them. And definitely let him sit back and watch you ladies have sexual pleasures. Don't allow him to further shame himself by thinking he's not faithful to you. He will always be faithful to you, Mrs. Carson. It may kill him, but he will always be faithful. That's who he is. If you arrange the events and keep a happy attitude about it, He will see it as a complimentary dynamic, and not a competitive threat. Do you want me to explain to you why that's important?" "No need. I'm sure there's a good reason for all of that as well." When they were finally done, Dr. Morris walked her out to the nurse's station and handed her a written directive for treatment. They shook hands and said their goodbyes. Stella left the doctor's office, thinking about all the humiliating tasks she was directed to provide. She put the 6 pages of directives in her purse, and went to the café, next door, where Robert was waiting for her at a corner table. She sat in the chair in front of him, and he handed her the coffee that he had ready for her. "You were with the doctor for a long time. Is everything alright?" Robert asked. "Robert,” Stella paused. The prospect of no more of his skilled cunnilingus, overwhelmed her.  “There's no easy way for me to tell you this, Robert.” Stella thought about the anal sex they once tried, some 25 years ago. It was so degrading to her. Trembling, she blurted out; “Robert. you're going to die." "What?" Robert shouted. "Doc said he was confident that I was going to be just fine." "He lied! He just didn't want to be the one to tell you, so he wanted me to tell you for him. He's a fucking coward. He was crying like a little bitch after you left. We're never going back to him, again! I'm so sorry, Robert, but that's how it is." "How much time do I have left?" "A few weeks; at the most." Robert was hyperventilating. He had never felt so scared in his life. "Oh my God. Is there anything that can be done to save me?" Robert asked. "Absolutely nothing," she replied. “I don't know how I'm going to go on, after you're gone, Robert. Hold me, please! Based on a post by Dan Draper, for Literotica.

Weakness, Fear, and Much Trembling

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

The Authority of Scripture: A Call to True Discipleship In this powerful session, Francis Chan discusses the irreplaceable role of the Bible in true discipleship. Highlighting the importance of scripture as the guide and manual for living a God-honoring life, Chan calls for a return to trembling at God's Word. He emphasizes the necessity of obedience, moving beyond mere knowledge to living out the teachings of the Bible. Drawing insights from Isaiah 66:2 and the Great Commission, Chan and other leaders explore the challenges of contemporary discipleship, the vital connection between understanding and action, and the importance of community in obeying God's Word. This session is a call to deepen your reverence for scripture and allows it to transform both personal and communal life. Check out Discipleship.org for free resources on disciple making: https://discipleship.org/resources/  Key Takeaways  00:00 Welcome to Francis Chan's Session on Scripture and Discipleship 00:40 The Importance of Scripture in Discipleship 01:14 Embracing Scripture's Authority 01:52 Personal Transformation Through Scripture 03:08 The Power of Biblical Resources in Modern Times 03:31 Trembling at God's Word: A Call for Reverence 06:33 Obedience Over Knowledge: The True Measure of Discipleship 16:51 Embracing Suffering and Obedience in Following Christ 22:26 Practical Steps Towards Biblical Obedience and Discipleship 39:50 The Ultimate Goal: Becoming Like Christ Through Scripture   For more information about Discipleship.org. visit our website or reach out too us at info@discipleship.org Stay informed - Get our newsletter:  http://eepurl.com/hPViAr

„Frică și cutremur” (1843) este un eseu scris de tovarășul nostru Søren Kierkegaard. Tema principală: ce înseamnă a avea credință? Ce înseamnă să intrii într-o relație de "credință" cu Dumnezeu? Studiul de caz: situația nasoală cu care s-a confruntat Avraam, acest "DO double G" al credinței, când i-a cerut șeful cel mare să-și sacrifice singurul fiu. În acest episod explic cum înțelege Kierkegaard paradoxul credinței și ideea că adevărata credință este independentă de cruciulițe și catedrale.00:00 Intro: de la viața etică mai departe?06:16 Recapitulare despre Either/Or11:32 Critica socială: creștinism vs. creștinătate13:16 Critica la adresa lui Hegel (sittlickheit)17:33 Despre Fear and Trembling 18:32 Semnificația titlului22:14 Povestea principală: Avraam și Isaac26:34 De ce e Avraam cavalerul credinței?33:18 Cavalerul renunțării totale (not enough)40:19 Semnificația pseudonimului (Johannes de Silentio)43:56 Semnificația "mototo-ului"51:50 OutroSupport the showhttps://www.patreon.com/octavpopahttps://www.youtube.com/channel/UCC91fciphdkZyUquL3M5BiA

Introduction: We're Not Putting on a Show (1 Corinthians 2:1–5) Because the show will replace God's MESSAGE. (1 Cor 2:1–2) John 17:17 – Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. Because the show will replace God's METHODS. (1 Cor 2:3–4) Because the show will replace God's MISSION. (1 Cor 2:5) Sermon Notes (PDF): BLANKHint: Highlight blanks above for answers! Small Group DiscussionRead 1 Corinthians 2:1-5What was your big take-away from this passage / message?What are some ways you have seen a church make the Gospel into a show / performance?Why does God prefer to work through weak people instead of strong & talented people (1 Cor 2:3-4)?How can you tell if a “good preacher” is a real Spirit-filled preacher, or a talented man just using his own gifts?BreakoutPray for one another. AUDIO TRANSCRIPT Open those Bibles up to the book of 1 Corinthians. We're going to be in chapter 2.Let's just pause for a moment.And I'm going to ask that you would please pray for me to be faithful to communicate God's Word accurately and clearly.I will pray for you to have a heart open to receive what God said in His Word.Alright? Let's pray.Father, there are so many things that compete for our attention and devotion.Give us a hunger for your Word, because it is through your Word that we know you.So I pray, Father, that our appetites would be for nothing but the bread of your Word.Let us dial into what your teaching is here in this passage, Father. We pray in Jesus' name.Amen.Amen.1 Corinthians chapter 2, are you there?I was today years old when I learned what that phrase meant.How many people have heard that? I was today years old. How many have heard that one? How many of you used that?Some of you are like, I don't know what you're talking about. Well, maybe you're not hip like Justin Cady,knowing all the vernacular of the children.But let me give you an example. I was today years old when I learned that on a box of tic-tacs,do you know when you open it up, there's this little oval in here? Do you know what that's for?That is to serve the tic-tac. Did you know that?Have you been just eating your tic-tac straight from the box like a wolf?Did you know that you're supposed to use this thing to...Ta-da!Maybe you can flick it in your mouth.Never mind.I'm going to give you, in all seriousness, the biggest and most shocking thing.The whole phrase I was today years old means there's something I should have known.I'm just finding out this thing that I should have known my whole life and wow, it changes everything.Well, here's the biggest one of all time.Did you know that you have the ability to take power out of the cross of Jesus Christ?Did you know that? You might be leaving here today saying I was today years old when I learned.I can empty the cross of Jesus Christ of its power. Do you realize you have that ability?The Bible says we do have that ability. Look back at chapter 1 verse 17.We covered this a couple of weeks ago, but very briefly because I knew we would be hitting it hard this week.But chapter 1 verse 17, Paul says, "For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel,and not with words of eloquent wisdom lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power."What? I can take power away from the cross of Christ? That's what he said.How can I take power away from the cross? How can I empty the cross of Christ of power?He tells us right here in verse 17 by relying on eloquent wisdom.Look at chapter 2. We're going to look at the first five verses, but I want us to read it all first.I want us to be very clear what the Lord is saying here.Paul says through inspiration of the Holy Spirit, "And when I came to you, brothers,did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom.For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified.And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were notimplausible words of wisdom but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power.That your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God."See a theme there? Over and over and over he's talking about wisdom.And you're like, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on, hang on, timeout Pastor Jeff, hang on."I thought wisdom was a good thing, right?And we've had whole sermon series on wisdom and there's books in the Bible called wisdom literature.I thought wisdom was a good thing. Why are we poo-pooing wisdom here today, Pastor Jeff?Well, wisdom is one of those words that can have different connotations depending on the context.A lot of words like that, right? Like the word aggressive.Is that a good word or a bad word?Well, depends on where we're using it, right? It's great if you're playing hockey.It's bad if you're in a meeting. See?Or how about the word judge? You hear that word judge, is judging good or bad?Well, depends how you use it. We are commanded to judge to discern.But we are forbidden to judge in the sense of criticizing people like we talked about in the sermon on the Mount.So you see, judge is bad or good depending on the context. And it's the same with wisdom.Because the Bible is clear there is God's wisdom and there is man's wisdom.And the obvious point of this passage, all circles around this idea of not man's worldly, earthly wisdom.That's the point. He says it in verse 1. He says it in verse 4. He says it in verse 5.So to sum up this passage, here's what Paul is saying.He's saying, "I didn't come proclaiming man's wisdom. My message was not in man's wisdom and your faith can't be in man's wisdom."You're like, "What's he saying? What's the problem here? Why is he so adamant about this?"Well, you have to understand something about the Greeks.You have to understand something about the people that lived in Corinth.You see, for them, public speaking was entertainment and competition.Now please dial in here, because if you miss this, you're going to be so confused as we go through these verses.Public speaking was entertainment and competition.They would actually compete for money and prizes and fame with public speaking.So for the Greeks, those in Corinth, public speaking was putting on a show.Public speaking was a performance.Remember, they didn't have TV.They weren't sitting down to entertaining themselves by watching the Judge Judy or whatever.They didn't have the internet where they would sit on their phone and death scroll through countless videos about cats.That's not how they were entertained.They were entertained in the Greek culture by two things, really.Sports, we get that, right? But their other form of entertainment was public speech.And public speech, listen, public speech was evaluated on eloquence.We get that, because how many countless TV programs do we have about judging talent?Right? The Americans got talent and American Idol and The Voice, The Mass Singer, what else is there?All these shows where, you know, so you think you can dance, we're constantly evaluating the talent level of people on these programs.Public speaking was that in Corinth.Now, do you see the issue?Paul came to them with a speech, the Gospel.He came to them with a speech and he came to a culture that evaluates a speech based on the performance of the performer.So if you look at this passage again, I'm going to look at it again, just abbreviating it, but you could substitute this phrase where it talks about wisdom.You could substitute putting on a show. That's what he was talking about here.Paul's saying, "When I came to you, brothers, I did not come proclaiming you the testimony of God by putting on a show."And then down in verse 4, "My speech and my message was not about putting on a show."And then in verse 5, "Your faith might not rest in the show, but the power of God."You see? That was the issue for that culture.And you're like, "Phew! Stinks for that culture because I get a... You know what, Pastor Jeff, it would be absolutely horrible.I mean, that would be terrible if people today turned the Gospel into our show.I mean, could you imagine how tacky it would be if people made church a performance?We don't have to stretch our imagination, do we?What do you see when you go to a lot of churches and Bible conferences, right?Fog machines and lights and how about a man pole dancing and swallowing swords?That happened at a men's conference.And oh, every spring I gag as I see churches promoting this summer at such and such church, summer at the movies.Life lessons according to Toy Story 2.I'm like, "Really? You've preached through the whole Bible and you're out of material and now we're turning to Pixar.Really?We made it into a show.Come to our church. We're dropping Easter eggs out of a helicopter.Oh, you know what the worst is. This could be... And this is personal opinion. This is the worst.The pastors that get on stage dressed up like a character.Have you seen this? Have you seen this nonsense?Pastor Taylor sent me a video for the record making fun of it.He sent me a video of a pastor that got on stage and their whole thing was Indiana Jones.And look, I love Indiana Jones, but the pastor was dressed like Indiana Jones.It was so stupid. He had a whip and he's just standing up there.It was so foolish.I have a... Noa guy who's a pastor, local-ish.We're talking about what's happening in church, what's going on in your ministry right now.And he went on and on and on bragging. He bought an evil-can-evil costume and preached as evil-can-evil.I'm like, "Great. Did you have to spend 20 minutes explaining to the people under 60 who evil-can-evil is?"Like, "Really? That's church?"What are we doing?If you sit these people down that are putting on these performances, these pastors,that are putting on these performances, like, "Why are you doing this?Why are you standing on stage waving a silly whip around like Indiana Jones? What are you doing?"They would say, "Well, that's how I get people to church.""Hey, no need to thank me, Jesus. I have a brilliant plan to fill the seats."And just as sad, churchgoers applaud these gimmicks because they get attention, right?That's why we're sharing these videos. They get attention.Oh, but then we get out to do each other, don't we?He dressed like Indiana Jones next week, harvest."You come to church next week. I'm going to be dressed as Darth Vader."[sighs]Your faith is weak.Won't that be awesome?You're like, "No, Pastor Jeff, that would be stupid."And you're right.We're going to top the other guy, and then we're going to top ourselves, right?Okay, so my thing with Darth Vader, people are clapping and giggling for that.So what am I going to do next week that's better than that, right?Just like one of those Lord of the Ring elves or something, and we'll blast fireworks on stage.What are we doing?This is exactly what Paul's talking about here.This is the principle. Lofty speech, human wisdom, plausible words.It's making the gospel into a show in order to win people.Paul says, "I didn't do that when I came to you in the Harvest Bible Chapel.We're not doing that either."And somebody right now is like, "Oh, Pastor Jeff, come on, what's the big deal?"Lighten up.I mean, if it draws people to church,why wouldn't we apply a little worldly wisdom?Listen, we are not putting on a show.We are not putting on a show.That is a hill that I will die on.You're like, "Well, what's the issue?"Well, let's revisit the text here, and we're going to see it's a much bigger issue than you think.We're not putting on a show.Write some things down. Number one, because the show will replace God's message.That's why the show, the show will replace God's message.Look at the first two verses again.Paul says, "And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to youthe testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom, for I decided to know nothing among you."Except Jesus Christ and Him crucified."When I came to you, you can revisit this story."Acts chapter 17, Paul was in Athens and he preached and responds, "Not so great."Then Acts chapter 18, he goes to Corinth.He's alone and he's looking around and he's like, "This place is even worse than Athens."And Paul here is saying, "So when I came to you, did I come with the fancy talk?Did I come like your public speakers putting on a show for you?"He's like, "No, no, no, no, the Gospel isn't about that.I didn't come to you like one of your philosophers.I came to you as a witness of Jesus Christ."And I love this.What is it?He says, "For I decided."It wasn't a whim.It wasn't one of those tweak and go things, last minute change.He goes, "No, no, no, no, no.I made the decision ahead of time that I'm not going into Corinth and I'm not going to try to dazzle them into the kingdom."By the way, do you think Paul could have?Do you think he had the ability to dazzle people with the knowledge that he had?Yeah, he could have.He said, "I will not do that."So what was your plan, Paul?He tells us this was my plan, verse 2, "For I decided to know nothing among you."Except what?Say it.Jesus Christ and say it.Him crucified.That's it.That's all I wanted to know.That's it.The only thing I wanted to know.The only thing I wanted to teach.The only thing I wanted to talk about was Jesus Christ and Him crucified.You're like, "Oh, time out question.Isn't there more to the Bible than that?"I mean, isn't there more to the Bible than that?Nope, there's not.Listen, the cross of Jesus Christ is literally everything.Everything.How is it that a person is saved?How is it that a person can have their sins taken away and the promise of being in glory with their God forever?How does that happen?The cross of Jesus Christ.How do we know that God loves us?How do we know that the God who created us has a love and compassion and He really cares for us?How do we know?The cross of Jesus Christ.How do we know that God is holy, that God is a God of justice?How do we know that God always upholds His Word, always does what He says?How do we know that?The cross of Jesus Christ.How does God feel about sin?How does God feel about our rebellion, our thumbing, our noses at Him and our...How does God feel about our sin?Where do we get our answer? Shout it out.That was the weakest shout it out I've ever heard.Come on, you can even hit the Sunday School Answer here.How do we know how God feels about sin?Where do we look? Tell me.The cross!That tells us.You know, I was really hitting this this week, hard thinking,is there anything that's not finding its foundation in the cross?I couldn't think of anything.And somebody's like, well, how about money?How about money, Pastor Jeff?Does the cross speak to money?Yeah, it does.Why do we give?Because God is a God who expresses His love through giving.And the cross of Jesus Christ tells us why we should be generous givers.Read 2 Corinthians chapter 8.He talks all about that there.So yes, the cross is a foundation even for giving.Oh, okay, okay, Pastor Jeff.Very slick.What about marriage and sexuality?I bet the cross doesn't talk about that.Oh, you got me. No, you didn't.Who did Jesus die for?His bride.Jesus died so that He could have a bride that was spallus.And heaven is described as the marriage supper of the Lamb.And husbands are to conduct themselves in a home in the pattern of Christbecause the purpose of a marriage is to put on a graphic displayof the relationship Jesus has with the church.Husbands represent the self-sacrificing love of Jesus Christ to their wives.Do you see how the cross speaks to marriage?We could do this all day.Fight me.Fight me.Show me something.Show me something that the cross of Jesus Christ doesn't cover.Doesn't explain.Paul says, "I wanted to know nothing.I decided I'm not going to know anything except Christ and Him crucified."Then I'm going to tell you, church,it is absolutely baffling to me when I see all these goofy gimmicks that people are doing in churches.It's absolutely baffling to me when we're dressed up like Indiana Jonesor Evil Can Evil or Super Mario or whatever.It's absolutely baffling to me.I'm like, do you realize the message that we have in the Word of God?Do you know what this message is?The message is God spoke everything into existence.He created us in His image.We rebelled against Him so God in His love came to this earth as a manand demonstrated supernatural abilities proving who He was.And then in the ultimate act of love, He sacrificed Himself on the crossso that we could be forgiven and then they put Him in a tomb and He rose from the dead.And that's not it.Then He flies to heaven and He's making a place because He's going to come backand He's going to take us so that we can be there with Him forever in a place that's so glorious.And like, is there anything better than that?There's the greatest message in the world.And somehow we think it needs bling.We think we need some kind of a gimmick to make Jesus exciting.What are you talking about?That's Paul's point here.It's the greatest message and it always will be in any attempt to put on a show.It's not going to enhance the gospel. It's going to replace the gospel.You know what I mean by that?Take our good friend Indiana Jones.I hope you weren't in that service.But if you were, could you imagine what people were talking aboutwhen they walked out of church that day?Do you think they walked out of church going, you know,after watching the pastor get around and waving his silly little whip around?Do you think people walked out of church going, Jesus Christ is so awesome?Do you think they walked out of church going, oh how wonderful the salvation of Godthat He would so love us?I'll tell you what people said walking out of that church.People walked out going, man I got to find my temple of doom VHS.We've replaced the message of how to be safe from hell with nonsense to entertain people.Well, at harvest Bible Chapel, Bible is our middle name.We are committed to pillar number one, proclaiming the authority of God's word without apology.Why are we so committed to nothing but expository preaching, representing the word?Why are we so committed to that?Like why are you so hard-nosed about that?I'll give you three reasons why.Number one, because it's commanded.God said this is what we were to talk about.So that's what we're going to talk about.It's commanded.Second reason that we're so committed to the word of God is it's literally the only thing that's effective.God said He is watching over His word to perform in Jeremiah 1.God says Isaiah 55, that His word always accomplishes the purposes for which He sends it out.It's effective.Nothing else will change a person.But the Spirit of God working through the word of God.That's it. That's the only way change happens.There's another reason that we're so committed to the word of God is because it's unifying.In John 17, Jesus was praying for us, and Jesus said, "Sanctify them in the truth."Sanctify means set apart.Jesus said, "Regarding His people, regarding us, we are to be set apart in the truth."Like where do we find that?Right there, Jesus said it.As He was praying to His Father, He says, "Your word is truth."So Jesus said, "The thing that must unify us, church, isn't some gimmick or a favorite form of entertainment.The thing that must unify us is the word of God. Get under the word."That's why we're committed to that.And you know what? I got to tell you this personally.This is so freeing for me.This is so freeing.I don't have to wonder what to say to you.See, we don't get in our offices through the week and we're like,"Oh, Pastor Taylor, what do you think we should say this week?Let's come up with some really great thing that's going to really fire people up."We don't have to do that.We just have to share the word of God.It's so freeing. I don't have to think, "How do I top last week's show?"I mean, people were really entertained last week.How do I top that?It's freeing for you, too.It's freeing for you.We talk about witnessing.One of the main obstacles people have about witnessing,I hear this all the time, Pastor Taylor,you've heard it a billion times as well, give or take.But you know what people say about witnessing?They say, "I don't know what to say."I would share my faith, but I'll be honest with you.I don't really know what to say. Yes, you do.You know exactly what to say.What do I say?Try this. Try Paul's technique.Nothing but the cross. How about that?Nothing but the cross. Share that.Do you know about the cross? Share that.You know, when people come to you and they're like,"Well, you know what does the Bible say about politics?"And like, Republicans and Democrats, you're like,"Well, do you know that Jesus Christ died for your sins?Did you know that?"And then they're like, "Well, what does the Bible say about AI?"I mean, AI is kind of scary.What does the Bible say about that?And your response is,"Do you know that God loved you so muchthat He sent His Son to die on the cross for you?That's how much God loves you."And they're like, "Well, does the Bible say anythingabout in vitro fertilization?"And she's like, "No, no, no. All I know is that Jesus died for you."That's all we need to know.We're not putting on a show because the showwill replace God's message of the cross of Christ.Number two, write this one down.We're not putting on a show because the show will replace God's methods.The show will replace God's methods.Look at verses 3 and 4 again.He says, "And I was with you in weakness and in fearand much trembling.And my speech and my message were notin plausible words of wisdom,but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power."Paul reminds them, he didn't come to themlike a boxer going to the ring.Like, "I fired up."Yeah!You see, there's really goofy, like,WWE professional wrestlers.Do you ever see these guys that come to the ring with the fireworks?Yeah!Yeah, and Paul's like, "That's not how I came to you.Like some goofy entertainer."He says, "I came to you. Use the three words, 'weakness,' fear, and trembling."What do you mean?What do you mean by that?Well, you look at how it's used biblically.Trembling is talking about mental anxietyover an important issue.That's when you feel something heavy in your heart and mind.You feel something so heavy that it's like weighing on you.And here's what I mean.Have you ever had the unfortunate business of having to give somebody newsyou didn't want to give them?Unfortunately, in my role, I've had to do that too many times.And it's so heavy on you.You're driving to the person's house because you have to tell them face to facethat there's been a terrible accident and things don't look good,that heaviness that you have while you're heading there.And delivering the message, just...That's what he's talking about.Or the heaviness, like if you have to confront somebody about their sin.Like, it's been brought to my attention that so-and-so is involved in a relationshipthat shouldn't be involved in.Now I gotta go talk to them about that.You see, you don't walk into that like a WWE wrestler, do you?Like, "Hey, guess what? I got news for you.There's been a terrible tragedy!"Like, what's the matter with you?No, that's the heaviness of having to deliver a serious message.That's what he's talking about here.Paul says, "This was my posture when I was with you.Not exactly the celebrity showman that the Corinthians would have preferred."Paul is saying, "I came in weakness because I didn't want to put on a showbecause I didn't want to get in God's way."Why, Paul? Why?Because the show will replace God's methods.You're like, "Well, what is God's method for reaching lost people?What is God's method?"It's the foolishness of preaching from a weak preacher.That's God's method.Did you ever say something like magnanimous, you have this really idealistic convictionand then the word of God kind of changes your mind on that?What I mean is, in past time I've said things like,"Well, you know what? The messenger is insignificant. The message is everything."After my study this week, I'm not so convinced of that anymore.Yeah, look, we established already that the message cannot be replaced.We already talked about that.But you cannot separate gospel content and gospel communication.Because according to this, in 117 that we already talked about at the beginning,you can suppress the power of the gospel message if attention is taken away from thatand put on the speaker.And you're like, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on. Hang on a second, Pastor Jeff.Are you telling me that popular people can't be faithful preachers?"Sure they can.So long as the spotlight isn't on them, you see.You're like, "Well, where's the line? Where's the line?"It's a hard issue. I'm not sure that we can see the line, but I know that God can.And I know that there is a difference between preaching Christ and showing off.And please hear me. You don't need to dress up as Indiana Jones to show off in church.You can dress like Pastor Taylor.You know, you really hurt his feelings by laughing just there.There is nothing wrong with how you're dressed.I'm sorry, Pastor Taylor.Do you know what this thing is for in a tic-tac box?You put the tic-tac in there.Moving right along.You don't need to dress up as Indiana Jones to show off.You can dress like Pastor Taylor, but unlike Pastor Taylor, you can try to make yourself the star.Unlike Pastor Taylor, you can put all the attention on yourself.You know, the message of the cross, you know what the message of the cross is?The message of the cross is about the humiliation of God.And preaching and witnessing require the humiliation of man.If you're sitting here today and you're like, "Well, I'm not really anything special.I'm just a sinner saved by grace."Well, if that's your attitude, then that's exactly why God wants to speak through you.Because you've found nothing to boast of in yourself.And instead, all you can do is exalt Jesus Christ.The power is in the gospel, which is why it must be preached by someonewho isn't going to drown out the gospel message with the sound of tuning their own horn.So we're not putting on a show because the show will replace God's method of preaching through weak men.One more.We're not putting on a show, number three, because the show will replace God's mission.Look at verse 5.He says that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.See here Paul's landing. This is the end game.The results.Here's the bottom line.If you're dazzled by men, your faith is going to be in men.But if you are dazzled over the power of God, if your experience is with the power of God,then your faith is going to be in God.What you win people with is what you win them to.See we're not putting on a show, why?Because if we win people with the show, with entertainment, we've won them to entertainment.And guess why people are going to come to harvest?Because they want entertained.But if we win people with Jesus, we've won them to Jesus.And people are going to come to harvest because they want to know Jesus.Putting on a show replaces God's mission.Instead of making disciples of Jesus, I'm making disciples of me.There's a very pragmatic problem with that too.If the church is replacing God's mission for the show, it leaves the converts vulnerable.Why? Because there's always a more impressive performance.There's always a more charismatic personality out there.There's always a better show somewhere else.And that's why, listen, that's why people bounce around churches.People bounce around churches looking for something more entertaining.They're not going to use the word entertaining.They want something that is going to be more appealing to them.We hear it all the time."Oh Pastor Jeff, we love harvest.We love the people here and we love you.But such and such church has a better playground.We've got little kids and they need better facilities like that with playground and stuff.I had one family.I said, "Oh Pastor Jeff, we love harvest."But he said, "My kid, he had a 12 year old kid.He said, "My kid loves the concert atmosphere at such and such church, so we're going there."I'm like, "First of all, Dad,I seriously doubt the wisdom of leaving the decision of the spiritual direction of the familyin the lap of the most immature member of the family.That's a problem.But is that how we're picking churches who has the best concert?You see, if the faith of the responders is produced by the preacher's show,what if the preacher leaves?What happens when that preacher retires?What are we going to do now?Worse, what if the preacher fails?See, you replace the mission for the showand Paul says you're missing out on God's power.God's power, you're like, "Well, what is the power?What is the power?"You're like, "Oh, I know this one.I know what the power is because I've seen this on TV."Who's that guy that's...He slaps people and heals them?What's his name? Benny Hill?Hen, Benny Hinn.Benny Hill's different.I've seen that show.He slaps the people and they're down.And then he waves at a group of people and they all fall down.That's the power of God, right?Well, back in chapter 1 verse 18 of Pastor Taylor preached on last week,we learned what the power of God is.You know what the power of God is?The gospel.The gospel. Romans 1.16, the gospel is the power of God.You're like, "Well, do we see the power of God at Harvest Bible Chapel?"Yeah.Every time that we have a baptism serviceand you have somebody stepping in to the tubgoing, "I turn from my sin and I receive Jesus Christ, I am born again."You're witnessing the power of God.Every time somebody chooses forgiveness,"I was wronged, I was offended, I want to forgive, I want the relationship restored."Every time that happens, you're seeing the power of God.Every time somebody uses spiritual gifts to minister to others in the church,you're seeing the power of God.You see, the power of God is a changed life.You're the power of the Holy Spirit.That only comes from Jesus.In church, we are doing a major disservice to peopleto replace people experiencing His power with people enjoying my performance.I have no power at all.I can't save anyone.I can't change anyone.Only Jesus Christ can do that through His Spirit.So we're not putting on a showbecause the show will replace God's mission of making disciples of Jesus.The Harvest Bible Chapel, there's no tricks for results herebecause the Gospel just simply points to the bloodied Jesus Christ on the crossand says, "There, right there on the cross is your salvation.There on the cross is your example.There on the cross is your victory.There on the cross is your power."So this is a call for discernment.Look, are you new here?You're a first-time visitor here today?Have you been bouncing around visiting churches?And this is just one of many that you've been checking out.Or maybe you're somebody who's been attending for a while.Maybe you're even a member who's been thinking about moving on.I just want to ask you a couple of questions in light of what God says here.What are you looking for in a church?Wait, wait, maybe that's not the right question.Maybe the better question is what should you be looking for in a church?More fireworks?More pizazz?Or is Jesus what you really want?Are you saying, you know, I want to know the Gospel.I want nothing more than to experience the power of God in my life.Well, wherever you choose to worship,I would encourage you to make your decision based on the right factors.I have no say over what other churches do.I have some say here in a harvest Bible chapel.We're not putting on a show.We buy our heads as the worship team makes their way back up.Father in heaven, we bow before you as people who live in a culturebombarded by entertainment.Bombarded by churches trying to win people through goofy stuff.Father, your word is so clear on that in this passage.That your Gospel doesn't need help.It's just He's proclaimed.Father, I'm sorry for all the times that I thought it was about me.I'm sorry God for all the times that I was trying to factor in some element of creativityor something to really wow people and your Gospel doesn't need that.My efforts will just replace the pure, simple, clear message of the crucified Christ.Father, I pray for all of us that we would have the discernment that only comes from your spirit.That as we are evaluating where we are worshiping and how we are worshiping,we're evaluating the methods that you've laid out in your Word.We're evaluating the mission that you've laid out in your Word.We're evaluating the message that you've given us, Father.Give us discernment.We pray in Jesus' name, amen.

In this special episode, filmmaker, cultural theorist, and curator Manthia Diawara joins EMPIRE LINES live, to discuss Édouard Glissant's relations with natural environmental disasters, connecting the islands of the Caribbean and Scotland, through the exhibition, The Trembling Museum (2023-2024).This episode was recorded live as part of PEACE FREQUENCIES, a 24 hour live radio broadcast to mark International Human Rights Day in December 2023, and 75 years of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Listen back to the recordings with Billy Gerard Frank and Sara Shamma, and find all the information in the first Instagram post: instagram.com/p/C0mAnSuodAZThe Trembling Museum, co-curated with Manthia Diawara and Terri Geis, was at the Hunterian Museum and Art Gallery in Glasgow from 2 December 2023 to 19 May 2024.Manthia Diawara's film, A Letter from Yene (2022), is part of The Earth, the Fire, the Water and the Winds: For a Museum of Errantry with Édouard Glissant at the Instituto Tomie Ohtake in São Paulo until 25 January 2026. You can join the conference on 25 and 26 November 2025.PRODUCER: Jelena Sofronijevic.Follow EMPIRE LINES on Instagram: ⁠⁠instagram.com/empirelinespodcast⁠⁠Support EMPIRE LINES on Patreon: ⁠⁠patreon.com/empirelines

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Remember Dr. Stanley’s legacy on his birthday today and get a preview of our upcoming From the Pastor’s Heart podcast, launching in 2026.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Remember Dr. Stanley’s legacy on his birthday today and get a preview of our upcoming From the Pastor’s Heart podcast, launching in 2026.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Remember Dr. Stanley's legacy on his birthday today and get a preview of our upcoming From the Pastor's Heart podcast, launching in 2026.

Remember Dr. Stanley’s legacy on his birthday today and get a preview of our upcoming From the Pastor’s Heart podcast, launching in 2026.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Remember Dr. Stanley's legacy on his birthday today and get a preview of our upcoming From the Pastor's Heart podcast, launching in 2026.

Revere the Bible and treasure it because it's the living Word of God.

Revere the Bible and treasure it because it's the living Word of God.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Revere the Bible and treasure it because it's the living Word of God.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Revere the Bible and treasure it because it's the living Word of God.

Revere the Bible and treasure it because it's the living Word of God.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Revere the Bible and treasure it because it's the living Word of God.

"The Kingdom: The Awe of God: Trembling" Pastor Billy Philips 9.21.25

Pastor Kurt takes a deep dive into Philippians 2:12-18, highlighting how Paul shows that God is working in you to shape your heart and actions, and through you to shine His light in a dark world.

In this episode of Homeopathy 247, Mary Greensmith welcomes back Ann Lovatt, one of the team's experienced homoeopaths. Ann dives into the fascinating world of Argentum Nitricum—a remedy she knows well, both professionally and personally. As a professional violinist, she's relied on this remedy many times to help with performance anxiety. Silver and Gold – A Useful Comparison Ann begins by comparing Argentum Nitricum (made from silver nitrate) with Aurum Metallicum (made from gold). This contrast helps highlight the remedy's qualities: Silver is reflective, linked with the moon, intuition, and changeability. Gold is warm, solar, regal, and tied to vitality, ego, and responsibility. While Aurum carries the weight of leadership and fear of failure on a grand scale, Argentum Nitricum captures the anticipation and anxiety of performance, where self-doubt and worry can feel overwhelming. The Nature of Silver Nitrate Unlike pure silver, silver nitrate has an explosive, reactive quality. This makes Argentum Nitricum more effervescent, expansive, and emotionally intense. Historically, silver was valued for its healing properties—used to line vessels and even in early surgical sutures for its antimicrobial effects. In homoeopathy, these qualities translate into support for the nervous system, mucous membranes, and emotional resilience. Themes of Creativity, Expression, and Anxiety According to Jan Scholten's work linking remedies to the periodic table, Argentum Nitricum belongs in Series 4—associated with creativity, communication, and performance. At its core, this remedy is about: Anticipation and performance anxiety – fear of being judged or failing. Stage fright and exam nerves – doubting whether preparation will be enough. Irrational fears – such as fear of heights, flying, or being trapped. Ann sums it up beautifully with the phrase: “Lost in anticipation.” Physical Symptoms and Body Connections Argentum Nitricum doesn't only affect the mind. It has strong links to the nervous system and the gut, often showing up as: Diarrhoea or stomach upset before stressful events Trembling or weakness Vice-like headaches and feelings of body parts being too large or bound Eye and throat issues, such as redness, spasms, or compulsive throat-clearing Sleep troubles from an overactive mind Interestingly, asthma linked to Argentum Nitricum often improves with movement—though situations like flying, where motion and fresh air are restricted, can worsen symptoms. Differentiating from Other Remedies Ann compares Argentum Nitricum with other remedies often used for anxiety: Aconite – panic-level fear, sudden and acute Gelsemium – inward trembling, weakness, chills Ignatia – emotional ups and downs, sensitivity, tearfulness Argentum Nitricum stands out because of its intensity, irrational fears, and digestive involvement, all tied to anticipation. Everyday Uses This remedy is not only for musicians or public speakers—it can be useful in many everyday situations: Fear of flying or travelling Nervousness before an interview, exam, or driving test Anxiety before making a phone call or attending a meeting Ann explains that modalities (what makes symptoms better or worse) are key: pacing and fresh air may ease symptoms, while heat, sweets, and being trapped can make them worse. Argentum Nitricum is one of the great homoeopathic remedies for anxiety—particularly when anticipation takes over. Whether it's a child nervous about school, an adult facing an interview, or a musician preparing for performance, this remedy helps calm the nerves, support the gut, and restore confidence. Ann leaves us with the takeaway: Argentum Nitricum is for those lost in anticipation—when worry about what might happen stops you living in the moment. Important links mentioned in this episode: Visit Ann's website: https://annlovatt.com/ Know more about Ann Lovatt's: https://homeopathy247.com/professional-homeopaths-team/ann-lovatt/   Subscribe to our YouTube channel and be updated with our latest episodes. You can also subscribe to our podcast channels available on your favourite podcast listening app below: Apple Podcast: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/homeopathy247-podcast/id1628767810 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/39rjXAReQ33hGceW1E50dk Follow us on our social media accounts: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/homeopathy247 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/homeopathy247 You can also visit our website at https://homeopathy247.com/

Violeta Parra needs no introduction in Latin America: not only did she record the greatest album in Chilean history, she also collected two thousand folk songs, danced in the Poor Circus, sang in the streets, and --incredibly-- exhibited at the Louvre. Over the years she also broke ...*checks notes*... 48 guitars over people's heads. Discover the larger than life story of Violeta Parra with our guest Ericka Verba, author of Thanks to Life, A Biography of Violeta Parra. _______________________ Travel with us! What'sHerName TOURS are open for registration. Or check out the What'sHerName SHOP! Every bit helps us make more episodes. Music featured in this episode: Violeta Parra recorded by Alan Lomax in 1953 in the Lomax Digital Archive; Puerto Montt is Trembling, and Gracias a la Vida by Violeta Parra; Las Hermanas Parra recored for RCA Victor in 1952; Corazon Maldito and El Guilatun by Desborde; Pink Flamenco by Doug Maxwell; Sus Remedios by Casa Rosa; Cha Cha Chango by Quincas Moreira; Despair and Triumph by Kevin MacLeod; Spirit of Fire by Jesse Gallagher. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Full TorahAnytime Lecture Video or Audio More classes from R' Avrohom Walkin ⭐ 2,445

God's King blesses God's people when he is God's servant.

In this episode of the Ideology Podcast, Mick is joined by special guest Dr. Ben Young, senior pastor at Second Baptist Church in Houston, Texas. With Drew away this week, the two dive into a vulnerable and thought-provoking conversation about doubt, belief, and what it means to trust God in the face of suffering and uncertainty.Dr. Young shares his personal story of walking through nearly a decade of doubt, sparked by unmet expectations around prayer and miracles in his college years. What began as disappointment eventually led to a full deconstruction of his faith—followed by a slow and honest rebuilding rooted in grace and the person of Jesus Christ.Together, Mick and Dr. Young explore:The difference between doubt and unbelief, and how doubt can actually strengthen faithWhy many churches have historically struggled to make space for questionsThe cultural obsession with certainty, particularly in evangelical and fundamentalist traditionsHow suffering and disappointment shape our view of God's goodness and activity in the worldThe importance of community, vulnerability, and empathy in seasons of deconstructionThey also reflect on shifts in the cultural questions people are asking—from "Is it true?" to "Who am I?"—and how the Church can respond with both conviction and compassion. Drawing from voices like Blaise Pascal, Søren Kierkegaard, and the Psalms, Dr. Young presents a vision of faith that embraces both mystery and reason, intellect and intuition.This episode offers encouragement and guidance for those struggling with doubt or walking alongside someone who is.Connect with us:Email: ideologypc@gmail.comYouTube/Instagram: @ideologypcResources referenced:Room for Doubt by Ben YoungPensées by Blaise PascalFear and Trembling by Søren KierkegaardThe Psalms and Ecclesiastes as biblical models of wrestling with doubtRobert Kegan & Lisa Lahey's research on adult development and cognitive complexityBackground track (licensed by Musicbed):"Evaporate" by Svvn

God wants our desire, reverence, and humble spirit as we yield ourselves to His awesome Word.

God wants our desire, reverence, and humble spirit as we yield ourselves to His awesome Word.

God wants our desire, reverence, and humble spirit as we yield ourselves to His awesome Word.

God wants our desire, reverence, and humble spirit as we yield ourselves to His awesome Word.

God wants our desire, reverence, and humble spirit as we yield ourselves to His awesome Word.

Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is show up… scared.Trembling knees, racing heart, uncertain voice, and all.Because fear doesn't mean you're weak. Fear means you care.It means you're stepping into something that matters.

Mark 15:37-16:9With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last. The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, saw how he died, he said, “Surely this man was the Son of God!” Some women were watching from a distance. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joseph, and Salome. In Galilee these women had followed him and cared for his needs. Many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem were also there. It was Preparation Day (that is, the day before the Sabbath). So as evening approached, Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent member of the Council, who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for Jesus' body. Pilate was surprised to hear that he was already dead. Summoning the centurion, he asked him if Jesus had already died. When he learned from the centurion that it was so, he gave the body to Joseph. So Joseph bought some linen cloth, took down the body, wrapped it in the linen, and placed it in a tomb cut out of rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance of the tomb. Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joseph saw where he was laid.When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus' body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?”But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.“Don't be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.' ”Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.  When Jesus rose early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had driven seven demons.

We're back for another round of Women in Translation Month! Each August, readers around the world celebrate books written by women and translated into English, spotlighting voices the too often go unheard. In this episode, we each pick five WIT titles we're planning to read this month. We promise our goal is not to derail your carefully curated TBR list, but this is an event where we'll happily take responsibility for your reading detours!What WIT books are you reading to celebrate?We've got some fantastic author-focused episodes lined up for the foreseeable future, and we want to give you plenty of time to dive in if you'd like to read along with us. These episodes come around every ten episodes, and with our bi-weekly release schedule, you'll have a few months to get ready for each. Here's what we have in store:* Episode 115: Kazuo Ishiguro* Episode 125: Flannery O'Connor* Episode 135: William Faulkner* Episode 145: Elizabeth Taylor* Episode 155: Naguib MahfouzThere's no rush—take your time, and grab a book (or two, or three) so you're prepared for these as they come!Join the Mookse and the Gripes on DiscordWant to share your thoughts on these upcoming authors or anything else we're discussing? Join us over on Discord! It's the perfect place to dive deeper into the conversation—whether you're reading along with our author-focused episodes or just want to chat about the books that are on your mind.We're also just now in our second novella book club, where we're reading Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin. It's a fantastic book, and we'd love to have you join the discussion. It's a great space to engage with fellow listeners, share your insights, and discover new perspectives on the books you're reading.ShownotesBooks* The Adventures of China Iron, by Gabriela Cabezón Cámara, translated by Fiona Mackintosh and Iona Macintyre* We Are Green and Trembling, by Gabriela Cabezón Cámara, translated by Robin Myers* The Ghost Writer, by Philip Roth* Love in a Cold Climate, by Nancy Mitford* The Sun King, by Nancy Mitford* The Pursuit of Love, by Nancy Mitford* Don't Tell Alfred, by Nancy Mitford* Voltaire in Love, by Nancy Mitford* The Faces, by Tove Ditlevsen, translated by Tiina Nunnally* The Trouble with Happiness, by Tove Ditlevsen, translated by Michael Favala Goldman* Killing Stella, by Marlen Haushofer, translated by Shaun Whiteside* The Wall, by Marlen Haushofer, translated by Shaun Whiteside* Overstaying, by Ariane Koch, translated by Damion Searls* In Farthest Seas, by Lalla Romano, translated by Brian Robert Moore* A Silence Shared, by Lalla Romano, translated by Brian Robert Moore* Frontier, by Can Xue, translated by Karen Gernant and Chen Zeping* The Last Lover, by Can Xue, translated by Annelise Finegan* The Blue Room, by Hanne Ørstavik, translated by Deborah Dawkins* The Taiga Syndrome, by Cristina Rivera Garza, translated by Suzanne Jill Levine and Aviva Kana* New and Selected Stories, by Cristina Rivera Garza, translated by Sarah Booker with additional translations by Lisa Dillman, Francisca González Arias, and Alex Ross* Ultramarine, by Mariette Navarro, translated by Eve Hill Agnus* Voices in the Evening, by Natalia Ginzburg, translated by D.M. Low* The Dry Heart, by Natalia Ginzburg, translated by Frances Frenaye* Family Lexicon, by Natalia Ginzburg, translated by Jenny McPhee* Traces of Enayat, by Iman Mersal, translated by Robin Moger* Motherhood and Its Ghosts, by Iman Mersal, translated by Robin Moger* Animal Stories, by Kate Zambreno* Migratory Birds, by Mariana Oliver, translated by Julia SanchesOther* PEN/America: Women in Translation Month Reading Series 2025* Women in Translation Month websiteThe Mookse and the Gripes Podcast is a bookish conversation hosted by Paul and Trevor. Every other week, we explore a bookish topic and celebrate our love of reading. We're glad you're here, and we hope you'll continue to join us on this literary journey!A huge thank you to those who help make this podcast possible! If you'd like to support us, you can do so via Substack or Patreon. Subscribers receive access to periodic bonus episodes and early access to all new episodes. Plus, each supporter gets their own dedicated feed, allowing them to download episodes a few days before they're released to the public. We'd love for you to check it out! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mookse.substack.com/subscribe

NB: Alice also recommends this highly Mountainhead-esque footage of Peter Thiel.SLEERICKETS is a podcast about poetry and other intractable problems. My book Midlife now exists. Buy it here, or leave it a rating here or hereFor more SLEERICKETS, subscribe to SECRET SHOW, join the group chat, and send me a poem for Listener Crit!Leave the show a rating here (actually, just do it on your phone, it's easier). Thanks!Wear SLEERICKETS t-shirts and hoodies. They look good!SLEERICKETS is now on YouTube!For a frank, anonymous critique on SLEERICKETS, subscribe to the SECRET SHOW and send a poem of no more 25 lines to sleerickets [at] gmail [dot] com Some of the topics mentioned in this episode:Carson McCullersNational Book Critics Circle: A Conversation on Poetry CriticismThe Case Against the Trauma Plot by Parul SehgalVIDA: Women in Literary ArtsPaul ValeryLinda GregersonStanley PlumlyEp 132: Intermittent Positive Reinforcement on Harry HarlowHow Do You Like It Now, Gentlemen? by Lillian RossAcross the River and into the Trees by Ernest HemingwayThe Profile Hemingway Could Never Live Down by Adam GopnikCurtis Yarvin's Plot Against America by Ava KofmanMountainhead (2025) Drake VS Kendrick Explained to White People by Josh JohnsonSecret show notesPacino's speech in Glengarry Glen Ross (1992) Tar (2023) Ep 166: Three Bird Mafia, ft. Jonathan Farmer on the Order of the Third BirdThe Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber by Ernest HemingwaySoldier's Home by Ernest HemingwayIn Another Country by Ernest HemingwayFear and Trembling by Søren KierkegaardScrambled Eggs & Whiskey: Poems, 1991 to 1995 by Hayden CarruthFrequently mentioned names:– Joshua Mehigan– Shane McCrae– A. E. Stallings– Ryan Wilson– Morri Creech– Austin Allen– Jonathan Farmer– Zara Raab– Amit Majmudar– Ethan McGuire– Coleman Glenn– Chris Childers– Alexis Sears– JP Gritton– Alex Pepple– Ernie Hilbert– Joanna Pearson– Matt WallOther Ratbag Poetry Pods:Poetry Says by Alice AllanI Hate Matt Wall by Matt WallVersecraft by Elijah BlumovRatbag Poetics By David Jalal MotamedAlice: In Future PostsBrian: @BPlatzerCameron: Minor TiresiasMatthew: sleerickets [at] gmail [dot] comMusic by ETRNLArt by Daniel Alexander Smith

The Bible presents a uniform pattern of how people respond to the holy presence of God: fear and trembling. Today, R.C. Sproul characterizes this solemn reaction to the transcendent majesty of our Creator. Read the transcript: https://ligonier.org/podcasts/ultimately-with-rc-sproul/trembling-before-the-holy-one/ Study Reformed theology with a free resource bundle from Ligonier Ministries: https://grow.ligonier.org/ A donor-supported outreach of Ligonier Ministries. Donate: https://donate.ligonier.org/ Explore all of our podcasts: https://www.ligonier.org/podcasts

The mighty voice of the Lord is powerful and thunderous … and so is His voice through His Word. Too many in our modern day treat the Bible casually or passively, but as Christians, we must humble ourselves, bend our knee, and tremble beneath His Word. In this study, we discuss the mighty-authoritative voice of God's Word, why we can believe and stand firm upon it, and what it means to tremble before His Word (with some help from Charles Spurgeon). Let us be the people to whom God intently gazes—people who are humble, contrite in spirit, and who tremble at His Word.If you would like to learn more about the inspiration, inerrancy, and immutability of Scripture, you can download a PDF version of Nathan's “Supremacy of Scripture” (appendix two of Saturation Bible Study) here. Link for download: https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/f1tauo603jz8xflku9uqx/SBS-Appendix-2-The-Supremacy-of-Scripture.pdf?rlkey=4z5flugvpg6dniqys44grcdqx&st=eszwnksh&dl=0

It's time to restore some roots. In “The Trembling Giant", Pastor Doug Lasit preaches about what it truly means to be the church, and takes us back to the roots of the early church that when weakened, diminishes our effectiveness. Revival today isn't about buildings but about restoring these essential roots in our lives!If you want to contribute to support the ministry of CONVO Church, you can give securely online at http://convochurch.com/give​​​​​Scripture References | NIV:John 20, verses 21-22Acts 1, verse 8Acts 2, verse 42John 1, verse 14CONVO Church is led by Pastors Craig & Cara Dyson. We exist to lead people in becoming passionate Jesus followers bringing the love, grace, and truth of God into everyday convos, influencing every sphere of life. We are here to Inspire Purpose, Encourage Life, and Build Faith in you.

and in the trembling blue-green of the sky - #4227 (93R19 pc 309 left) by chair house 250711.mp3and in the trembling blue-green of the sky ◆AIでミュージックビデオを作りましたが、これまでとちがって強烈迫力音楽のヘビメタ楽曲です。音楽生成AIのSunoが得意な分野ですが、そこで得意な領域で大迫力の音楽を創ってもらいました。映像もそれに合わ..

and in the trembling blue-green of the sky - #4227 (93R19 pc 309 left) by chair house 250711.mp3and in the trembling blue-green of the sky◆AIでミュージックビデオを作りましたが、これまでとちがって強烈迫力音楽のヘビメタ楽曲です。音楽生成AIのSunoが得意な分野ですが、そこで得意な領域で大迫力の音楽を創ってもらいました。映像もそれに合わせ..

The H3 Show is BACK baby! Vacation is over and Ethan & the crew are back to talk about everything that happened over break, and even a couple of things that happened JUST before the show went live- namely that Creator Clash 3 is now officially cancelled! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

#LONDONCALLING: TREMBLING LABOUR AND SHIVERING SENIORS.   @JOSEPHSTERNBERG @WSJOPINION 1931

There are thousands of churches in America, and sadly most of them are just "trembling" churches: Afraid to preach the authentic gospels and the truths it proclaims. In his speech to the Faith Forward pastors summit, Charlie lays out what pastors must do to be true pastors leading true churches. He lays out how promoting controversial and challenging truths is exactly what will draw in young people and new believers, while saccharine lies will only keep people away while they follow the secular road to damnation.Support the show: http://www.charliekirk.com/supportSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.