ExplicitNovels

ExplicitNovels

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  • The Time Riders: Part 10
    The Time Riders: Part 10
    Egyptian Acheology, In Real Time.

    Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.



    Mark felt a cold chill, but also was strangely assured that

    she didn't begin screaming. If anything, she sounded vaguely amused. He didn't
    come out, but he pushed one of his hands through the linens and waved at her.

    "Silly," she giggled, still

    smirking. "You might as well come out, because all I have to do is
    scream if I want help. I'm not afraid of anyone stupid enough to break into the
    personal chambers of a devotee of the goddess."

    Mark took a deep breath and walked out from beneath the

    linens, stopping and looking down at her, blushing at getting caught. She
    looked up him curiously, although she was still clearly amused, and made no attempt
    to cover her nudity.

    "You're a slave," she remarked, noting his

    attire. "What compelled you to hide in my room?"

    What was the point in lying?

    "I was hoping to fuck a Vestal," he

    confessed, shrugging and turning his palms to her in a gesture of honesty.
    "That's the simple truth."

    She raised an eyebrow. "That's brazen of you. You

    know we're all virgins on purpose, right? We took a sacred vow."

    Mark shrugged again. "Everyone has needs and urges,

    even sacred virgins."

    Aemelia giggled. "I suppose that's true. But why

    would; excuse me, I don't know your name, slave."

    "Bonosus."

    "Well, then, Bonosus," she intoned, setting

    her arm on the edge of the basin and then resting her head against two fingers
    while she observed him, more than a little intrigued. "What makes you
    think a sacred virgin of mighty Rome would want to fuck a slave, if she were
    indeed subject to such base desires as you describe?"

    "Well, you wouldn't need to take a vow if you

    weren't subject to them, would you?" he reasoned. "And as to
    why;”

    He slowly slipped off his ragged tunic, leaving him naked.

    Aemelia's eyes widened slightly as his cock came into view.

    "Woof," she muttered to herself as she

    fixated on his limp cock. "Your father, is he Bacchus, or a satyr?
    Because only a god or a creature of sin should be lavished with a prong like
    that."

    "Interested?" he asked, smirking back at

    her. "Because if you're not, maybe Marcia or Licinia would be willing
    to make use of me if you're not’

    "Hold on, now," the blonde interrupted in a

    quiet but calm voice, holding up her hand. "I didn't say that. All I
    asked was what you had to offer that a sacred virgin would be willing to
    compromise her vows for. And that thing makes up for a lot of sacred vows;”

    She rose slowly, the water cascading down her body. Not

    surprisingly, as a sacred virgin, her cunt was unshaved, but her wet hairs were
    rather light and sparse, the same color as her honey hair.

    "Um, you're eighteen, right?" Mark asked,

    wondering for a moment.

    Aemelia gave him a wry look, her hands moving up to her

    tits. "I am. A little more, in fact. Is that a problem? Am I too old
    for you to want to fuck me?"

    "No, I'm perfectly okay with you being eighteen,"

    he assured her. "Kinda counting on it, in fact."

    "Well, that is good to hear," she said,

    allowing her hands to fall away from her tits and exposing herself again. She
    seemed strangely shameless, which was no doubt quite a trick to hide in these
    environs. "It'd be one thing for me to reject you, but it would be
    unthinkable for me to be rejected by a mere slave. And if you were indeed
    intent on someone younger, I would have to summon Lucia or Domi’

    "Nope, I'm intent on you, if you're willing,"

    Mark said firmly, smiling as she watched his cock swelling slowly. He wasn't
    getting hard, but he was getting aroused, and it had the desired effect on his
    potential partner. Aemelia bit her lip as she watched his cock grow.

    "Normally, I just pleasure myself in the bathing

    basin, since it is easy to hide," she said as she stepped out of the
    water and walked over toward the linens he was standing in front of, drawing
    close to him and smiling rather saucily. "But to be fucked in the
    bathing basin would create too much noise, I fear. No, base slave, if you
    intend to have your way with me, it must be quick and dirty, and allow me to
    conceal any evidence after. You do not want to know what happens to a sacred
    virgin who has broken her vows of chastity."

    "I can only imagine," Mark said as he took

    one of the linens hanging on a peg and knelt down on one knee, beginning to dry
    her off. She seemed amused by his attentiveness, and put one foot on his thigh,
    allowing him to continue. "So, what, I should probably fuck you
    somewhere in here, since it's farthest from the door and least chance to be
    heard, right?"

    Aemelia nodded and pointed at the bed. "But you

    cannot have me on my bed either, slave, as there will be evidence of my
    activities. No, I fear you will simply have to push me up against a wall and
    fuck me, like a common whore."

    "Probably all we have time for," he pointed

    out, leering as he stood, towering over her and pulling her body to his and
    beginning to fondle her. She closed her eyes and sighed as he groped her tit
    and ran his other hand down her back to caress her ass.

    "Uh, my first man," she whispered, not at

    all flinching from his touch. If anything, she parted her legs slightly, which
    she reached down to stroke his hardening cock with one hand. "Not only
    breaking my vows to my goddess, but the sheer indignity of losing my chastity
    to a lowly slave;”

    He could tell she was getting really turned on. His hand

    found her cunt and he slipped two fingers inside, making Aemelia moan. She was
    already very wet, and he couldn't find a hymen, so he would have no problem
    fucking her.

    "You are feeling around; for my chastity,"

    she breathed, opening her hazel eyes and looking up at him while he fingered
    her. "It was broken many years ago, while I was riding atop of a horse
    to a ceremony. It was determined to be an accident, and not a symbol of the
    goddess' disfavor, so I was permitted to continue serving her. Now, my chaste
    cunt will serve you, slave. You may fuck me. But first;”

    She pulled away from him and went over to the far wall, then

    took hold of a small wooden peg and tapped on the wall three times in a certain
    rhythm, then three more. She put the peg down and then walked back to him, her
    eyes glinting with excitement.

    "You may fuck me against the wall right there,

    slave;” she whispered breathily, clearly getting eager. She stopped in front
    of him and waited for something. Then he heard three faint taps in a certain
    rhythm, which seemed to come from the wall she'd just tapped on. Without any
    further hesitation, she led him over to the wall she'd indicated and bent
    forward, exposing her ass to him while steadying herself against the wall.

    Mark didn't wait, but simply placed his hands on her ass

    cheeks while standing behind her. He teased his hard cock against her wet twat
    before sliding the head inside. He felt her stiffen, her back arching, and then
    she was murmuring to herself.

    "I am disgraced; I am disgraced;”

    Mark smiled evilly and pushed deep inside her with one long,

    slow stroke. Aemelia shuddered and choked, fighting the urge to cry out as he
    violated her. She hissed as he bottomed out in her, pushing back on her hands
    to take him in further. She was silent now, just trembling as she felt his cock
    pinning her to him. Mark then began to stroke back and forth slowly, letting
    her adjust to the sensation. She was indeed tight, and he was inclined to
    believe her claim that she was still a virgin, even if she had no hymen.

    "Bonosus;” she said in a quiet voice somewhere

    between a gasp and a whisper. She pushed back against him again, starting to
    grind her ass in circles, reveling in the sensation of a man deep inside her,
    committing such an extreme blasphemy against Mother Rome.

    The two were thinking the same thing: Fuck Mother Rome.

    Mark started moving faster, knowing they didn't have a lot

    of time. His hips began smacking against her ass, and he watched as his cock
    glistened, sliding back and forth in her slippery cunt.

    "Uh, less noise, less noise!" she rasped,

    waving almost frantically with one hand, her eyes squeezed shut. "Do
    you want us to both be executed?"

    Mark kept pumping back and forth strongly, but refrained

    from slamming against her. He was still more than deep enough to send her into
    convulsions, though, and the priestess hissed lustily, looking back at him with
    glazed hazel eyes.

    "Make me cum," she panted, working herself

    against him rather inexpertly, but with amazing enthusiasm. "Disgrace
    my body, my temple, with your cum, slave!"

    Mark moved faster, and felt her cunt rippling and

    contracting around him greedily, indicating she was not far off from orgasm.
    His hands pulled her ass cheeks apart, stretching her and she bit her knuckle
    and keened. Covered in sweat, her arm flashed out to the side, pointing at the
    linens hanging next to them.

    "A linen!" she gasped, her breath catching

    in her throat. "Give me a linen before I scream!"

    Mark reached out and grabbed one of the long linen swaths

    off a peg and handed it to Aemelia, who hastily shoved as much as she could
    into her mouth, right before her body contorted and was wracked by orgasm. She
    screamed in ecstasy, the linen muffling the otherwise piercing sound
    magnificently. Her cunt clutched his cock fiendishly, and Mark stifled a loud
    groan as he began to cum deep inside her.

    They ground and squirmed against one another heatedly as he

    filled her with his pearly essence, and he could feel her cum slathering his
    thighs. Finally, she sagged, leaning against the wall to keep herself up while
    removing the linen from her mouth so she could breathe heavily. Some moments
    later, she eased herself forward, off his throbbing cock, gasping as it popped
    out of her. She turned around, leaning back against the wall and pulled Mark to
    her, pressing her mouth against his and kissing him deeply. She may have been a
    virgin, but she certainly knew how to kiss.

    Then again, if it was just her and a few other young women

    living here, that was probably to be expected.

    "This, slave," she whispered breathily,

    looking up into his eyes while she reached down and massaged his sticky, still
    oozing cock. "This has now been in the most sacred of cunts, a sacred
    temple, defiled by your base desires. Do you know what an honor you've had?"

    "I can guess," Mark replied, using his body

    to pin her to the wall and pushing back inside her again. Aemelia shuddered and
    groaned, going up on her toes and clasping him. "You glad I defiled
    your temple?"

    "Yes, but we need to get you out of here,"

    she managed to say, gently pushing him back so that he fell out of her. She
    knelt and kissed his cock while picking up the linen she'd stuffed into her
    mouth, and cleaned him off with it. She then hurried over to the pegs on
    another wall and slipped on a simple white robe, tying it shut. She was
    flushed, but obviously jubilant. She helped him get back into his slave tunic.

    "Well, I can strike that off my bucket list," Mark

    mused to himself in English, smirking.

    "What did you say?" Aemelia asked, looking

    up at him as she tied the cord around his waist.

    "Oh, I was just thinking that at least I can count

    on you to not brag about this," he said somewhat hastily. "Probably
    not many people you wanna tell."

    "True, there's really only Licinia and Marcia I

    would tell, because they are like-minded to myself. I would tell Domitia, since
    I suspect she has at least as licentious a heart as any of us, but dare not,
    because she is impulsive, and not prone to subtlety."

    "No shit;” Mark muttered as she finished helping him

    dress. "So now what? How do we get me out of here?"

    "There's a secret passage you can use at the end of

    this hallway. It'll take you down to the basement level again, and out though a
    garden. Be vigilant, but you should be safe. Take a sack of supplies out into
    the streets, so that it looks like you're on an errand. It'll help you avoid
    scrutiny."

    She led him through her apartment and opened the door to

    poke her head out into the hall, looking both ways. She then took his hand and
    pulled him out, hurrying down to the end of the hall and then pointing at a
    large plaster lavabo that dominated the wall. He used his fingers to pry it
    open like a door, which led into a dark stairwell.

    He was about to step into the stairwell when she took him by

    the hem of his tunic and pulled him back to her, kissing him deeply and
    passionately for several seconds before pushing him back through the aperture
    and then closing the door behind him.

    Aemelia leaned back against the ornate plaster lavabo and

    sighed, looking at the ceiling. She laid and hand on her tit, stood up,
    straightened her robe out, and then walked down the hall, attempting to look
    dignified. Thankfully, servants and the priestess' minders rarely came to this
    floor except at designated hours. She stopped in front of the door of the
    apartment next to hers, which had a plaque that red 'Licinia' and rapped on the
    door softly.

    The door opened and she was pulled inside by her wrist. The

    door had barely closed before she and another, younger priestess were kissing
    one another feverishly, hands wandering over each other's bodies.

    "Thank you for letting me watch," Licinia

    murmured as her tongue tangled with Aemelia's. "I am so jealous that
    you got to fuck first, even if it was just a slave. But what a cock he had on
    him."

    "I know, and it was everything we had hoped it would

    be, sister," Aemelia breathed, breaking the kiss and pulling her
    sister-priestess' bedchamber robe off. "If only it could have lasted longer.
    But for now;”

    She shed her own robe and leaned back against the wall,

    tilting her hips forward and using two fingers to spread her thick cuntlips
    wide. "You need to suck his cum out of my cunt while you can;”

    Mark's back was getting slightly sore from carting around

    sacks in order to get places without being stopped and questioned. He humped
    several cords of wood into the rear entrance of the Trajan Baths, sighing
    heavily as he dumped them down near other piles meant to heat the pools, and
    then went in search of Becky and Nanu.

    He heard them before he saw them, not surprisingly; he

    followed the telltale noises toward a smaller, more private bath chamber away
    from the main rooms. He paused in the door of the room, grinning and leaning
    against the entranceway while he just watched.

    In the shallow water, Becky and Nanu were sitting facing

    into one another, legs scissored and pussies pressed together. They panted and
    moaned as they slithered and ground against each other, resting back on one
    hand in the cool water, and gripping each other's arms with the second.

    They strained against one another, backs arching and their

    behinds out of the water, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched. They both
    keened loudly before the dam broke. Sighing and moaning shamelessly, they
    squirmed and writhed, bathing each other's cunt in frothy cum. They girl-fucked
    one another hard, cumming for a long period before finally relaxing and
    settling into a squishy embrace, tits and pussies pressed together as they
    kissed lovingly.

    Mark finally came into the room, noticing that two young

    attendants were waiting in corners, linens ready. He shed his tunic and stepped
    down into the shallow pool, joining them. Becky broke the kiss to smile at him
    lewdly.

    "Well, hey, handsome," she purred, reaching over

    to stroke his cock, noticing it was recently used. "What did you get up to
    while Nanu and I were enjoying ourselves?"

    He was kneeling next to them, rotating his neck.

    "Might've used our loop to get revenge on the city for trying to kill me
    next week," he mentioned. "Found a certain temple, might've fucked a
    priestess;”

    Becky shook her head. "I swear, you're terrible at time

    theory, unless it involves doing something heinous, Mark. You are a
    menace."

    "Yeah, but you love it," he pointed out, grinning

    and reaching into caress one of her tits, his other hand fondling Nanu's.
    "Admit it."

    "I admit to nothing, young man," she purred,

    loving how his hand felt on her while she continued to stroke his cock.
    "Nanu asked if we could visit her family, see if they're okay. She hasn't
    seen them for a decade now."

    "I'm all right with that," Mark answered,

    shrugging. "We should give 'em money, too, improve their lot in life.
    Sounds like Egyptian peasants in the Roman era don't have a lot goin' for
    'em."

    Becky smiled slyly. "Now that you mention it;”

    Akhmim, in a corner of the former Lower Kingdom.

    It was the time of year where the mighty Iteru was to

    have overflowed its banks and then receded, leaving the land gloriously fertile,
    and ready for the people to grow their crops and sell their goods to the
    merchants in the cities. But this year, the great god Hap'i had withheld his
    bounty, and the river had barely breached its banks. The land was dry, and
    crops scarce. People had been bringing muddy water from the edges of the river
    in buckets in a desperate attempt to fertilize their fields.

    Kiya sighed glumly as she tilled a shallow trench in the

    woefully dry soil on their farm. A wind blew across the field, and she was
    depressed to see that it carried reddish dust with it. She was the youngest
    remaining child, and she did the least skilled work as a result. She despaired
    of ever being married, since her parents could not afford to lose her.

    Years ago, they had sold their youngest daughter, in the

    hopes of getting enough money to improve the farm, with new tools and maybe
    some irrigation equipment, but they'd been had, and the materials and tools
    they'd bought were junk. It had cost them all the money they'd made in selling
    their child, and now they had less than ever. They barely subsisted even in the
    bountiful years, and during droughts like this, it could be deadly. Other farms
    were empty, due to death or abandonment.

    She stopped for a moment and leaned on the rickety hoe she was

    using, squeezing her eyes shut and stifling a sob. She missed her little
    sister. Yes, Nanu had only been a year younger than her, but she'd been a joy
    in Kiya's young life, and they were very close to one another. Kiya loved
    little Nanu, and then one day, she was gone.

    As she opened her eyes and looked out over the dusty field

    at the long, thin rows of trenches, she wondered if Hap'i was punishing them
    for selling her little sister. Kiya wouldn't have blamed the god; she
    remembered being angry too, and she hadn't talked to her parents for days. Her
    older siblings, especially Aneksi and Joba, her eldest sister and brother, had
    loudly declared that it was a good thing to do, since it was one less mouth to
    feed, and Nanu had been useless for chores anyway.

    She was six years old when we sold her! Kiya thought

    angrily to herself as she glared at the barren field. What did you think she
    was going to be able to do?

    She heard a horn call and looked down at the distant river

    dully; she could see an ornate boat sailing downstream, being punted by
    dark-skinned Nubian slaves, the huffer standing at the bow waving for less
    important ships to move aside.

    Nobles, she grumbled to herself sourly. Probably

    on their way to Memphis to eat splendid food, and meet with their Roman
    friends.

    Splendid food. She'd almost forgotten what anything other

    than bread or little bits of fish tasted like. And the drought made even bread
    scarce, while fish were dangerous to try to catch, because of the hippos and
    crocodiles that crowded the river. In years like this, the crocodile demons
    were especially aggressive.

    Movement caught her eye, and she saw a palanquin coming up

    the banks on the small, dusty road. It wasn't even a road, really, so much as a
    failed ditch that had been meant for irrigation of the nearby farms. Slaves
    carried the palanquin on their shoulders, and diaphanous curtains concealed who
    sat within. A tall, light-skinned slave walking with a tall stick led the way.
    Just behind him came a woman riding a mule, a cloak wrapped around her upper
    body to protect her from the dusty wind.

    They seemed to be coming this way.

    Why are they headed this way? Kiya wondered with a

    frown. What could they possibly want here in dusty little Akhmim?

    She stood up and began walking toward the palanquin as it

    drew closer, her hoe held casually in her right hand: unthreatening, but ready
    in case their intentions were malign. She could see now that the male slave
    leading the way was rugged and handsome, with brown hair and deep eyes. Behind
    him, she woman on the horse, whom she assumed was still a slave, seemed rather
    pretty beneath her swathes of dark grey linen and fabrics.

    Were her eyes; blue?

    She glanced over at her ramshackle house that she, her siblings,

    her parents and grandparents lived in. No one else seemed to have noticed yet,
    or were too far away to see. Clearly this would be up to Kiya for now. So how
    should she react?

    She played it safe and got down on both knees, bowing her

    head and looking at the reddish-brown ground beneath her. It was hot on her
    knees. She hoped this wouldn't take long, for she had to get back to the
    trenches, so that the other could pour their meagre water and begin to plant
    seeds.

    Kiya waited quietly.

    "I always did like seeing you on your knees, Ki;” she

    heard a sweet, girly voice say.

    Her head flicked up and she looked at the source of the

    voice; she could see a beautiful face leaning out between the curtains of the
    palanquin and smirking at her. Kiya's eyes widened and her jaw opened as the
    young woman slid down out of the palanquin and began walking toward her. She
    was wearing shimmering white clothes that hugged her lovely figure, and her
    hazel eyes danced in excitement. She was wearing gleaming gold jewelry, adorned
    with lapis and other gems.

    She was radiant, like a goddess.

    "N; Nanu?" Kiya asked in a tiny,

    incredulous voice.

    The vision of her long-lost sister nodded, still smiling.

    "NANU!!!" shrieked the older girl, dropping

    the hoe and launching herself forward into a crushing hug with her sister.
    She'd burst into tears by the time she reached Nanu, and the younger sister was
    crying as well while they embraced.

    Mark and Becky looked on, smiling as the sisters were

    reunited, crying together. True, Nanu's sister (the one named Kiya, they
    assumed) was getting dust all over Nanu's immaculate clothing, but it didn't
    matter. There were plenty of new outfits for her anyway.

    Kiya began planting tear-wet kisses all over Nanu's face,

    almost as if they were a method of making sure she was real. The weeping Nanu
    returned the kisses. Mark's head began tilting slowly on an angle as he
    watched, because the kisses were becoming slower, and seemingly more meaningful
    and; affectionate.

    "Well, now;” Becky said as she watched intently.

    "Hello, ancient Egypt."

    Nanu and Kiya were now absorbed in a very deep kiss, holding

    one another tight. Mark could see their tongues rolling around the insides of
    their cheeks. The whimpers of crying had given way to muffled moans while their
    hands wandered up each other's backs and came to rest on their ass cheeks.
    Still they kissed one another almost hungrily.

    Mark leaned in closer to Becky and whispered to her. "I

    get the feeling they really missed each other."

    The sisters finally broke the kiss, more for needing oxygen

    than any other consideration. They pressed their foreheads together, panting
    heavily as they stared into one another's eyes. Their lips were still
    glistening from the kiss they'd shared. Nearly a minute had passed before Kiya
    pulled her head back and looked at her little sister in renewed wonderment.

    "Nanu;” she managed to say. "How; what

    are you;”

    "Do you like it?" chimed Nanu, stepping

    back just far enough to do a twirl and display her raiment. The gold she wore
    on her neck, arms and ankles tinkled almost musically. "I have lots
    more."

    "We; mom and dad sold you;” Kiya said, still

    gaping. "They; they sold you as a slave. What miracle of the gods is
    this?"

    "Oh, the best kind," the younger girl

    quipped, giggling. "But I don't wanna explain this ten times, so why
    don't you get everyone over here? I'll have my slaves set up a shelter for us
    all to sit under."

    Kiya will still bordering on confused, but she nodded and

    turned to race back toward the hut, calling out loudly for people. Nanu watched
    her for a few moments before turning to look at Mark and Becky and smiling.

    "You two sure missed each other," Mark

    observed, grinning, while Becky fanned herself.

    Nanu gave Mark a snarky look and stuck out her tongue.

    "We were best friends, Kiya and I, we only had each other, really. And
    then I was gone for ten years. Is it really so surprising that we can pick up
    where we left off?"

    "Nah, just some culture shock is all," Mark

    chuckled as he laid down the packs he was carrying and then began unslinging others
    from the side of the mule Becky sat on, and the palanquin. "Shall I set
    up the shelter, your majesty?"

    Nanu giggled. "I could get used to that. Please!"

    The porters placed the palanquin on the ground, and began

    helping Mark set up the shelter. Along with their pay, they'd been promised
    good food and wine, so they were more than willing to put in great effort. Mere
    minutes had passed before a shelter was set up on sturdy poles, with curtains
    that could be fastened to the sides to keep out the dust and wind. Nanu crawled
    back inside the palanquin while Becky waited just outside.

    Before long, a group of people was approaching, being led by

    an eager Kiya. She kept badgering everyone to hurry up, and several seemed more
    than a little annoyed at her harrying them. They were of various ages, and all
    dressed similarly to Kiya, in the common wear of Egypt's teeming peasantry.
    Becky glanced subtly to the side, to look at Nanu. The young Egyptian woman was
    staring at the approaching throng, her eyes glassy, and she bit her lip to keep
    from crying. She didn't want to be crying when her family saw her again.

    Becky drew the curtains closed to give her some time to

    compose herself. She then stood and waited patiently while everyone approached.
    They were a rough lot, clearly hardened by a life of toil on one of the endless
    farms that lined the Nile. There were young men and women, some children who
    belonged to what she assumed were couples, and some elders laboring to bring up
    the rear.

    The crowd stopped near the shelter, and looked at the

    visitors silently. Becky nodded to them all said then spoke in a clear voice.
    "Do any of you speak the tongue of Rome?"

    Silence and blank stares greeted her. Unimpressed, she

    turned and called back. "Mark, none of them speak Latin, I need you."

    "Not the last time I'll ever hear you say that,"

    he chuckled as he joined her. She gave him a sour look and swatted his arm. He
    ignored the assault and called out to everyone. "Has Kiya told you what
    we're doing here?"

    Many of the people shook their heads, but still didn't say

    anything. Mark gave Becky a sidelong glance, and the blonde woman went back to
    the palanquin, knelt, and pulled aside the curtain. She helped an elegant woman
    in white out of the vehicle, and she walked forward, holding a gauzy white veil
    over her head to conceal her features. She approached the group, and an older
    man finally pushed to the front and addressed her humbly.

    "How can this humble family serve you, mistress?"

    he asked.

    Nanu now pulled the veil over her head, letting them take a

    good look at her. Kiya looked like she was almost ready to burst. Several faces
    remained blank for quite some time, but others began to express shock as
    recognition set in.

    "Nanu?" asked the man in a quavering voice.

    "Yeah, it's me, dad," she said, her eyes

    shining again. "I'm home for a visit."

    "NANU!" an older woman blurted as she

    forced her way through the crowd and dashed forward. Nanu quit trying not to
    cry as she embraced her mother for the first time in more than a decade. Becky
    pressed her fingers to her lips as she watched and tried not to tear up. Mark
    just grinned.

    "Mommy," Nanu choked as she held the other

    woman tight. "I've missed you so much!"

    "How is this possible?" her father asked,

    sinking to his knees. "We; I had to sell you, to those Romans, in order
    to make enough money to’

    "The Flavians in Clysma, yes," Nanu

    affirmed, looking over her mother's shoulder and nodding while the elder woman
    wept. "And they sent me to Rome, once they discovered I could dance."

    "You always were a good little dancer!"

    Kiya gushed, almost bouncing up and down on the spot. Many of the other members
    of the family were drawing closer now, still gazing in wonder.

    Her father seemed to be going pale and trembling, though.

    "Are; are you sent back as a glorious spirit, to punish me for selling
    my beautiful daughter? Have mercy on me, I’

    "Dad, stop being so dramatic," Nanu almost

    complained as she let go of her mother and walked toward him. She hauled him to
    his feet and placed her tiny hands in his, letting him feel them. "See?
    I'm still flesh and blood, not a stupid spirit. I'm not a Flavian slave
    anymore, either. I'm wealthy and I have my own slaves."

    They all looked at Mark and Becky now. Becky pulled down the

    fabric around her head, and many of them gasped as her golden blonde hair and
    sea-blue eyes came into full view. They'd never seen anyone like her before.
    These were Nanu's slaves?

    Her father shook his head slowly. "I still do not

    understand. How did this happen?"

    "Who cares?" someone groused from the back

    of the crowd in a gruff, male voice. Nanu knew it right away, and looked up
    sourly. The crowd parted to let the speaker come forward.

    It was her eldest brother, Bata, and he was the second

    eldest of the siblings after Meritites, Nanu's big sister. He'd always been
    something of a bully toward her. More than something, actually. Nanu and Kiya
    both had unpleasant memories of the older boy.

    "We sold you for money, and what good did it do us?"

    the young man sneered, moving forward now. Nanu took half a step back, clearly
    intimidated. "The tools we bought were shit, and we're struggling
    harder than ever. You can't even be sold without fucking things up for your fa’

    Mark had lunged in and slammed his fist across Bata's jaw,

    sending him spinning to the ground. Everyone except Becky gasped, and one
    sister cried out in fright. Mark stood over the downed boy, glowering at him.
    Bata was holding his jaw, his eyes wide in shock. He could taste blood.

    "Got anything else to say about my mistress,

    shitbag?" Mark challenged.

    Bata glared at Mark before his gaze flicked over to the axe

    he'd dropped when he got punched.

    "Oh, please try that, I dare you,", Mark

    growled, unmoved by the perceived threat. "I'll shove that axe handle so
    far up your ass that you'll have splinters in your tongue for a month."

    Bata looked away, unable to endure Mark's glare. The younger

    man stepped back and let Nanu's brother get to his feet. Bata grabbed a woman
    by the wrist and stomped off, dragging her behind. Several of Nanu's siblings
    sighed and were visibly relieved. Mark then stepped back and let Nanu take over
    again.

    The Egyptian girl, still a little rattled, took a deep

    breath, composing herself. She then spoke to her family again. "I'm
    sorry. I thought I'd never see you again. I thought I'd die, far from home,
    never to return. I; I want to make sure that mom and dad never have to do
    anything like that again for our family's survival."

    Nanu brought her mother back to the family and helped her

    father stand. They were murmuring to one another and hugged, while people began
    crying. Several men and women watched on, some passively, some with curiosity.
    Mark assumed these were spouses who had married into the family since Nanu's
    departure some ten years ago.

    Nanu was hugging her oldest sister, Meritites, and sharing

    kisses with her, although not quite as affectionate as those she'd shared with
    Kiya. She then hugged and kissed her other siblings; Djoser, Ameny, Khafra,
    Nefer, Tiaa, Horemheb, Jobra, Anpu, and Senet.

    Jeebus, Becky thought, trying not to frown as she

    looked at the mother, whose name was apparently Pypuy. Twelve kids? How did
    her uterus not just fall right out?

    Nanu's father, Akhom, still seemed overwhelmed, but maybe

    that was understandable. He had, after all, clearly made an agonizing decision
    and it seemed to be revisiting him, even if the circumstances were joyous for
    everyone else. Nanu had explained to Mark and Becky that selling children into
    slavery in order for a poor family to survive was not uncommon in Egypt, but
    clearly it was still painful for all involved.

    Finally, the greetings ended, and Nanu, with her eyes still

    glistening, smiled at her family. "Let's eat, I brought lots of food."

    The shelter Mark and the slaves had erected was large enough

    to conceal everyone from the sun. They ate bread, figs, fish, and wine. Kiya
    excused herself and ran back to the house. Even Nanu's father seemed to have
    adjusted and was now enjoying himself. More than anything, though, there were
    endless questions.

    "I got lucky," Nanu said simply. "I

    know it seems impossible, but look at me. What more proof do you need? I am
    wealthy now, and not a slave. I came home to let you know, and also to give you
    money, so that you no longer need to struggle. You will live very comfortably.
    You could probably even retire from the farm and move into a town or city if
    you wanted to."

    "You're not coming with us?" her sister

    Tiaa asked, looking rather upset. "We just got you back, and you've
    been gone so long."

    Nanu looked down at the ground, going silent, wondering what

    to say. She felt very torn. Here she was, back with the family she'd missed her
    entire life, and giving them money, but beyond that, she had nothing to back it
    up; Mistress Aurora and Bonosus, or whatever their real names happened to be,
    were not her slaves. She had no talents that made her a patrician. She could
    barely read.

    She'd come here, so secure in her plan to see her family,

    alleviate any suffering they were enduring, and then go off on this grand
    adventure with her new beloved associates. They'd even told her she might be
    able to see her family again.

    But now, in this dingy but so comforting environment.

    She looked up and saw Kiya approaching again, carrying

    something in her arms. Everyone let her through, and she knelt next to Nanu,
    smiling. Nanu's eyes went wide.

    Kiya gently passed her the baby. It couldn't have been more

    than a year old.

    "Her name is Nanu," Kiya said softly, her

    brown eyes shining. "Named after the little sister I thought I'd lost
    forever."

    Nanu looked up and her eyes were glassy with wonder.

    "Who is her father?"

    Kiya smiled sadly. "The river took him earlier this

    year, during Akhet. I'm sorry you never met him."

    "She's beautiful," Nanu murmured, caressing

    the tiny cheek with her thumb, and feeling her heart thrum in her chest. "So
    beautiful."

    "There's all the time in the world now, for you to

    raise her and love her," her sister said, putting a hand on Nanu's
    arm. "I know you'll love her as much as I do. We can raise her
    together, just like we always talked about when we were younger. And I; what's
    wrong, Nanu?"

    Tears were now streaming down the younger girl's face as she

    tried to keep from bursting out crying. Becky found herself trying not to cry
    as well, even if she didn't understand the language.

    "I'm; I'm sorry, Kiya," she managed to say,

    while her sister's eyes teared up, knowing what was coming. "I can't
    stay, I now have a different life I must get back to. And it's not here in Akhmim,
    or even Keme itself."

    "I understand," Kiya rasped, her eyes red

    as she tried to hold it together. She loved Nanu so much. "Can't take
    us with you?"

    "No, I can't," Nanu said sadly, shaking her

    head slowly as she squeezed her eyes shut, crystalline tears falling onto the
    linen the baby in her arms was wrapped in. "I don't know how that would
    work."

    "Will we ever see you again?" her sister

    Ameny almost pleaded.

    "I want to say yes," Nanu replied, her eyes

    still closed. "But even visiting now was very difficult to arrange. But
    I promise you, I will try. And if I ever find a way to take you all away from
    here, then I will. And we'll all live in splendor together forever."

    Most of the girls were crying at this point, and even a few

    of her brothers were sniffling. Her mother and father just knelt quietly,
    looking very forlorn and lost. Nanu handed the baby back to Kiya and hugged her
    parents tight.

    "But even if I can't be here, I'm still looking

    after you, like I promised," she said in an earnest tone. She glanced
    over at Mark, who nodded and rose, using two of the porters to unfasten sacks
    from the mule and also the palanquin. When he brought them over, he laid them
    in front of Nanu, who opened them to display the contents. Her family members
    gaped in awe.

    More gold coins than they could have imagined glittered

    within.

    "You'll need to be quiet for some time about where

    it all came from, and not just spread it around, but this'll give even my
    niece's great-grandchildren a very comfy life if you're not stupid with it,"
    she announced, running her hands through the coinage so they could hear the
    sound of it. "Like I said, you could become the wealthiest farmers in
    the region, or become traders in a nearby city. As long as you look after one
    another, always. Even Bata."

    "Don't worry about Bata, sis," grunted the

    second eldest brother, Anpu, looking at Meritites and smiling. She reached over
    and squeezed his hand. "We'll make Bata behave."

    "I know," sniffled Nanu, smiling and wiping

    at her eye. She'd always liked her big brother Anpu. He wasn't a jerk like
    Bata. "Just protect my sisters, Anpu, and my niece."

    He nodded, looking proud, since she'd assigned him this

    task.

    "Do you really need to leave already, Tahemet?"

    Djoser asked, calling Nanu by her childhood nickname of 'Queenie'. When they'd
    all been younger, Nanu, as the youngest, usually got the short end of the stick
    about everything. So she made up for it by having an active pretend life, where
    she was a queen, regal and worshipped by all. Meri, the eldest, had given her
    the nickname, but not in a mocking way, even if Bata used it as such.

    Nanu considered. Mark turned around and whispered to the

    porters. "Stay with us another night, and we'll triple your pay and
    give you all the remaining food." The men nodded readily. Nanu wanted
    to ask Mark and Becky, but they were supposed to be her slaves for this visit,
    so she couldn't be asking them. The decision was hers.

    She opened her eyes and smiled. "I'll stay until

    tomorrow."

    Everyone seemed relieved at her proclamation, and they

    continued eating and drinking merrily. Becky had to admit, they were taking
    this all in good stride. Then again, when all your deities had bird or reptile
    heads, there probably wasn't a lot you couldn't take on faith anyway.

    Mark now conversed with the family (with Nanu's permission),

    about how Nanu had come into wealth and escaped slavery, not to mention
    acquiring two exceptional specimens such as himself and Becky for slaves. Mark
    did something he was becoming distressingly good at and lied. It saved Nanu the
    hassle, which was just as well, since she spent much of her time holding Kiya's
    baby and talking quietly with her sister. Clearly they'd been attached at the
    hip when they were younger, and there was much about one another they were keen
    to rediscover. Watching them subtly touch each other and hold hands, thumbs
    gently caressing, brought a smile to Becky's face.

    She resolved to make sure Nanu got to see her family again.

    The day had worn on, and Nanu had to remind everyone

    repeatedly that there was no immediate need to get back to toiling over the
    barren landscape, since she had come with plenty of money. Evening was upon
    them, and the family began returning to the dwelling that served as their home.
    Mark added treated skins around the shelter, converting it into a tent, while
    Nanu begged Kiya to stay with her for the night, to which the older sister
    agreed readily. Last of all, she hugged her father and mother, promising to see
    them in the morning. They took little Nanu with them, leaving Mark, Becky,
    Nanu, and Kiya alone in the tent. The porters had returned to the boat and
    would sleep there.

    Once the flaps were all fastened shut, Nanu and Kiya had

    almost attacked one another, kissing feverishly, and tearing one another's
    clothes off. Alex smiled and watched while they took their own clothes off.
    They lay on a blanket together on their sides, with Mark spooning her. He
    caressed and fondled her gently while she squirmed her ass back against him and
    they watched the sisters, small sturdy covered lamps in the corners providing
    dim illumination.

    Naked and wrapped up in a tangle of writhing limbs, Nanu and

    Kiya were continuing to kiss hungrily, moaning the entire time. Hands wandered
    over forms they hadn't touched in over ten years, and those had probably
    changed considerably in the interim. They murmured and whispered to one another
    through the kissing, words Mark didn't try all that hard to make out. Let them
    have their fun.

    "Umm, there you are," Becky purred as she felt

    Mark get nice and hard while watching the show. She reached behind herself and
    took hold of his hard cock, guiding it to her cunt. She teased it up and down
    the slippery nether lips before letting Mark press home, and sinking deep
    inside her. They both moaned with relief at the coupling.

    Mark kissed Becky's neck and fondled her opulent tits as he

    began pushing his cock in and out of her slowly. They slowly made love while
    watching the sisters just to their side rediscover one another, after over a
    decade apart. Becky smiled as Nanu kissed Kiya deeply, expressing her innermost
    longings and desires. The younger sister lay on top of the older one, holding
    one another tight and kissing, their nubile bodies squirming together.

    "I love watching family reunions," Becky sighed

    quietly as she flexed her fingers on Mark's hip while he slid in and out of
    her, still massaging her opulent tits. "Look at them, Mark, they're so in
    love, and so happy to see one another."

    "It's certainly a feel good moment," he agreed,

    loving how she flexed her cunt muscles around him as he pushed him himself back
    and forth. "Mind you, just about everything involving you is, I
    find."

    Becky smiled and reached up to caress his cheek before

    turning her face to kiss him. While they were engaged in a tongue-lock, Nanu
    began kissing and nibbling her way slowly down Kiya's soft, responsive body,
    thrilling to hear the murmurs and whimpers of her sister again. She kissed her
    tan tits, swirling her tongue around the hard brown nipple, before biting and
    tugging on it, then giggling.

    "You can't imagine how long I've yearned to see you

    with tits, Ki," she said quietly, smirking up at the older girl.
    "They're everything I've ever hoped for and dreamed of."

    "Just wait until you see my cunt, then,"

    Kiya replied, shivering beneath her sister's kisses. How she'd missed them!
    "And let me see if yours has become everything I've ever dreamed of."

    Nanu nodded and then wiggled around until her hips were over

    Kiya's face. In the dim light, the older sister could see the tempting twat,
    glistening with arousal and shaved curiously smooth. It must have been how they
    did things in distant Rome, of which her little sister was now apparently queen
    or some such thing. Without a moment's hesitation, she craned her head up and
    began kissing, sending shudders through Nanu and making her moan.

    The sisters kissed and lapped at one another, lovers

    reunited after agonizing years apart. They fell into it naturally, remembering
    what the other loved and craved, even if their bodies had changed in the
    interim. Nanu sighed in bliss at the taste of her sister, cloying and sweet on
    her tongue. She felt Kiya go rigid as one of her fingers slipped inside her
    twat.

    They rolled slowly onto their sides, legs locked around each

    other's head as they sucked on one another's cunt hungrily, lost in mutual
    pleasure. Mark and Becky kept watching, undulating and squirming as quietly as
    they could, letting the sisters rediscover their lost love.

    Nanu and Kiya were moaning into one another's pussies now,

    little gasps escaping them. They could see Nanu's ass cheeks clenching and
    pushing forward against her sister's face, even while Kiya slithered her tongue
    around inside her. They were both trembling and sweating now, bodies shining in
    the dim, flickering orange light inside the tent.

    "Ooh, here we go," Becky whispered, her hand

    reaching back to rest on Mark's neck and help keep her braced against him.
    "Let's see how long this has been pent up;”

    Both sisters were shaking now, but still lapping and sucking

    on each other relentlessly, squeaking and whimpering as they tried to hold out.
    But their lust would not be denied, and they both keened and strained, finally
    cumming. Mark and Becky watched in fascinated delight as Nanu bathed her
    sister's face in her glistening cum, and heard her moaning as Kiya
    reciprocated.

    Becky shivered and pressed her ass back against Mark, hard,

    sighing as she began to cum as well. Mark pressed forward with his hips,
    pushing his cock as far inside her as he could, pumping his cum deep into her
    greedy cunt. They squirmed and ground against each other, with Mark biting
    Becky's neck and her fingers running through his hair.

    "Umm, Mark;” she cooed, nuzzling against him, loving

    the feel of his molten cum inside her. "You have no idea how good this
    feels."

    "If it's one tenth as good as that, then pretty

    damn incredible," Mark said, nodding at Nanu and Kiya, who were still
    kissing one another's pussies, murmuring quietly and caressing.

    Nanu disengaged her mouth from Kiya's snatch and turned

    around again, lying on top of her sister as they began kissing again, tasting
    themselves on each other's lips. Kiya moved her right leg and Nanu her left,
    shifting around until their gooey pussies were squashed together, which they
    both obviously found immensely comforting.

    They ended their kiss, and Nanu looked over at Mark and

    Becky dreamily, her face shining with cum. "I would like to let Kiya
    taste you both;”

    Mark and Becky nodded, remembering that they were still

    pretending Nanu was noble and they were mere slaves. Mark slowly pulled his
    cock out of Becky and rolled onto his back. He pulled his teacher on top of
    him, facing up, with his cock poking up between her legs. The sisters crawled
    over, with Kiya looking rather hesitant, but trusting her little sister. She
    gazed at Mark's erect cock and Becky's twat in wonder.

    "He's huge," she breathed, unconsciously

    licking her lips. "You're lucky to have such a big cock at your
    disposal whenever you like, Nanu."

    "Don't I know it," giggled the younger

    sister, taking hold of Mark's tool and holding it up for Kiya, while she began
    kissing Becky's cunt, shivering as she tasted Mark's cum dribbling out of her
    mistress. "You'll love the taste of this cunt, too."

    Kiya began experimenting with kissing Mark's cock, which was

    glistening with his and Becky's mingled cum. The Egyptian girl seemed
    intimidated by its size initially, but remembered that Nanu clearly loved it,
    so there must be nothing to fear. Her hand joined Nanu's around the base of the
    shaft and soon she was sliding her tongue up and down his length, much like
    Nanu was doing to Becky's sweet twat.

    The sisters paused to kiss, tongues tangling as they shared

    the cum they'd both lapped up, humming contentedly into one another's mouth. To
    watch them, Mark would have sworn they'd done this before. They both stroked
    his shaft, while Nanu caressed Becky's cunt.

    The two girls pressed their foreheads together, giggling at

    some secret between them. Nanu looked at Becky and Mark warmly. "We should
    sleep, my family will not leave us alone for long. And I want my sister to try
    fucking you both before we must leave."

    "I do not want you to go," Kiya sighed.

    "I just got you back, Tahamet, it breaks my heart that you intend to
    leave again. Couldn't; couldn't you and your servants stay with us? You could
    even lead our family, since you are the one with the wealth. We could live
    wherever we wanted. I wanted to raise my daughter with you, my other half,
    missing for so long."

    Nanu's eyes glistened as she looked over at Mark and Becky.

    The blonde woman smiled lovingly. "Nanu," she said gently in
    Latin, which Kiya didn't speak. "This is your decision. If you want to
    stay with your sister and your family, Mark and I will understand. We'll leave the
    money with you, and even come and visit you when we can."

    The tear on her cheek was proof of how torn the young woman

    was by this decision. And it was one she had to make alone, possibly for the
    first time in her entire life. It had to be terrible for her. Finally, she hung
    her head for several moments, and when she looked back up, she was smiling.

    "Ki, I must go back to my life,", she

    sighed, her mind made up. "Trust me, I really want to stay, or to take
    you with me, especially you and little Nanu, but it must be this way. I can
    promise to visit, and that will have to do."

    "I understand," the older sister choked,

    nodding as her eyes welled over with tears. "I do. It's just hard. I'm
    so glad that you're alive and happy. It means so much to me. If the price is
    sending you away again, I can endure it. For you. For us. You know how in love
    with you I am."

    "Same as I am with you," Nanu said, her

    voice cracking and tears flowing. "Just remember that I'll keep my
    promise and visit whenever I can."

    The sisters grappled onto one another and began kissing

    feverishly, lying on their sides while their hands wandered freely. Mark
    chuckled and allowed Becky to clamber off him. She went to lie on the far side,
    spooning into Nanu and making sure she stayed pressed to her sister. Mark,
    meanwhile, spooned into Kiya, holding her in place against Nanu, while the two
    girls continued kissing and whimpering into one another's mouths. The two time
    travelers reached across and rested a hand on each other, smiling and relaxing,
    waiting for the Egyptian girls to nod off, their lips still pressed together in
    a forever-kiss.

    It was a long-overdue night of safety and contentment for

    the two.

    It was just dawn now, and Kiya looked like she was going

    into convulsions as she rocked up and down on top of Mark's cock. It was far
    the largest she'd ever had inside her, and it felt like it was splitting her
    open, like a wedge split wood. She could feel crackling and popping in her
    hips. How did Nanu, who was even smaller than her, endure it?

    Becky was kneeling right behind Kiya over Mark's thighs,

    pressed into the smaller girl and smiling wickedly while she molested her tits.
    Meanwhile, Nanu was kneeling over Mark's mouth, letting him lash her cunt with
    his tongue, while she faced into her older sister, loving the look on Kiya's
    face as she was almost fucked in half.

    Kiya squirmed and writhed, gasping like she was being

    choked, her eyes rolling up into her head. It wasn't long before her cunt
    clenched Mark ferociously, and Nanu had to lean forward and kiss her sister
    before Kiya shrieked in unreal ecstasy and woke up the entire family over and
    over, three hundred meh-ta away.

    Mark ground into Nanu's cunt as he arched his hips, pushing

    up somehow deeper inside Kiya and then cumming, filling her so profusely that
    she was once again shaking like she was having a seizure. The squishy noises of
    his cum bubbling out of her filled the tiny tent. Nanu shivered and came on his
    mouth seconds later.

    Becky hauled the nearly unconscious Kiya off of Mark's pole,

    while Nanu leaned down and sucked it clean quickly. She then moved forward
    quickly to lie between her sister's legs, sucking Mark's cum out of her cunt
    with a fiendish eagerness. Becky crawled over to join Mark and they watched the
    sisters quietly. Nanu finished draining Kiya of cum, finally, and crawled over
    her, nestling down onto her body. Not surprisingly, they were kissing again.

    "Jeez, you ever seen too people more in love?" he

    mused, smirking as he lazily caressed her tits while she sat in front of him.

    "I ain't complaining about the show," Becky

    replied, nodding and grazing her fingernails along his forearm. "She must
    really believe in our promise to her if she's willing to leave her sister and
    niece behind to come with us. I feel slightly bad about it."

    Mark shrugged. "She wouldn't have even had this choice

    without us, Becks," he pointed out. "Clearly our offer means a lot to
    her. 'sides, she knows she can always visit them now, just like we promised.
    And if the Holmes Field Device won't bring her forward, we can leave her here
    with them, right?"

    "I guess that's true," Becky agreed, nodding and

    just watching.

    "What is that language they speak to one another

    when they don't want anyone to understand them?" Kiya asked in a
    whisper, looking just past her sister's shoulder at Mark and Becky
    suspiciously.

    "I don't even know," Nanu confessed. "I've

    never heard it before. Anywhere."

    Kiya gazed up into her younger sister's eyes, giving her a

    skeptical look. "They're not your slaves, are they? There's no damn way
    two people as magnificent as that are slaves to anybody, forget a dopey little
    slut of a girl from Akhmim."

    Nanu sighed. "Fine, you got me," she

    whispered, pretending to kiss her sister's ear, while Kiya squirmed and held
    her close. They made a show of grinding their pussies together, giving Mark and
    Becky something to look at. "They're not my slaves. I was hers, for a
    little bit. But what they really are is adventurers, from very far away. And
    they're taking me with them, to share their adventures. Not as a slave, but as
    one of them."

    Kiya assessed what her sister was saying for some time,

    trying to parse it out. It sounded absurd, but then, so was Nanu being here at
    all, dressed in fine raiment that even the pharaohs would envy, with lots of
    gold at her disposal, and healthy and whole. It seemed a miracle.

    Were these two actually gods? If they were, what could Kiya

    do about it?

    "Are you sure it's safe, my little love?"

    she asked, caressing her sister's cheek gently. "I would die if you’

    "No dying," Nanu whispered firmly, her lips

    touching Kiya's as she spoke. "My beautiful niece needs her mommy."

    "And what about her other mommy?" Kiya

    asked somewhat petulantly.

    "You will see me again, Kiya," Nanu said,

    her hazel eyes locked with Kiya's darker brown ones. "Now that my life
    has come to this, I can make that promise. If it hadn't been for these two, I
    would have been lost to you forever."

    Kiya bit her lip as she tried not to cry. The sister

    continued squirming their gooey pussies together, finally pressing as hard as
    they could into one another and sighing as they climaxed. They shuddered and
    collapsed into a sweaty tangle of limbs and cum.

    "Just keep my secret from everyone," Nanu

    whispered as she kept kissing her sister lovingly. "Keep my secret and I'll
    put you in charge of all the money."

    "Hmm, you got a deal, you little slut;” Kiya

    moaned into her sister's mouth.

    It was an emotional parting, certainly, but Nanu handled it

    surprisingly well. She spent loving moments with everyone in her family, even
    Bata, who seemed to have thought better of his ways, and begged her
    forgiveness, which she readily gave. His abuses of her were forgotten. She
    cried with her mother and father, explaining that she really did have to go,
    but that Kiya would be in charge of the money and would take good care of them
    all.

    She wept while she said goodbye to her niece, her namesake,

    and the tiny girl seemed to understand. Nanu promised to visit again soon, to
    see her grow into a beautiful young woman. Lastly, she said goodbye to Kiya,
    the two of them crying as they kissed and hugged one another, with Kiya
    struggling to refrain from begging her little sister not to leave. She'd have
    to have faith that Nanu would keep her word.

    Nanu took her sister by the hands, sniffling as she looked

    into her eyes. "Another boat is coming, Ki. It'll take you and Anpu to
    Alexandria, where there's a bank that'll set you up and look after the funds.
    Then you can set up wherever you, mom and dad decide, and bring the family
    there. Shouldn't take more than a few months. Just make sure they have enough
    food to last that long."

    Kiya nodded. "I will. I can't believe this. Maybe

    you're going off somewhere with pale-skinned gods, but I believe you when you
    say you're coming back. I love you, Tahamet."

    "I love you too, Ki;” Nanu murmured, kissing her

    one more time and then turning away. She was wearing a new set of radiant
    clothes, another veil protecting her lovely face from the sandy winds. With
    Becky, Mark, and the Nubians in tow, she walked back to the palanquin and
    stepped inside, lying down on the cushions. Her family couldn't see her, but
    she could see them through her tears as she was lifted and carried away. Once
    they'd descended the banks and were heading onto the barge, she allowed herself
    to cry.

    One of the curtains opened and Becky looked in, smiling

    kindly. She stroked the younger girl's black hair soothingly.

    "That took so much strength, darling," she

    cooed, taking Nanu by the chin with a finger and looking into her bleary eyes.
    "Are you sure this is the right decision for you?"

    Nanu swallowed. "I; I love my family, mistress, and

    would lay down my life for them. But even more importantly, I can look after
    them now. And that is because of you and Bono; I mean, M-ark. And I; it sounds
    silly, but;”

    "Go on, beautiful," Becky said softly.

    "You know you can tell me anything."

    "I;” Nanu faltered. "It sounds stupid,

    but you and M-ark have my devotion, as much as my family does, mistress. I am
    in love with you both. How could I not be?"

    Becky bit her lip, willing herself not to tear up. "We

    love you too, Nanu. Never doubt it. And we'll make sure you visit your family
    as often as we can safely manage it. Mark and I promise."

    "I believe you, mistress," the Egyptian

    girl said, her eyes shining as she gazed into Becky's divine face. "I
    believe everything you say;”

    In the darkness of the basement, a glowing field appeared,

    along with tiny, blinking lights of red and blue neon that twirled about in
    abstract patterns. Inside the glowing field, the Holmes Field Device appeared,
    with three passengers on the platform. A strange, quantum humming sound filled
    the enclosed space.

    The device and passengers, fully materialized, waited

    quietly for a few seconds, and then Mark began powering down the consoles.
    Becky smiled and took Nanu by the hand.

    "Welcome to my home, sweetheart," she said

    quietly.

    Nanu's expression was a bemused one as she looked around the

    dim room. "It; is much smaller and darker than I expected, mistress."

    "Well, I; no," Becky faltered while Mark

    chuckled behind her, still powering down the consoles. "This is just my
    basement, Nanu, it isn't where I live. My house where I really live is above
    us, upstairs."

    "Oh," Nanu mused, considering and nodding.

    "This is good to hear. I was almost feeling cheated."

    "This is where Mark comes in and out with his

    device, since it is open enough to hold it," Becky explained, shooting
    Mark a sour look for laughing and not helping her. He'd even told Nanu a joke
    in Egyptian earlier, a language Becky didn't understand. She'd make him pay.
    "I wouldn't want it upstairs in the middle of my house, not to mention
    it's a secret, so no one will ever see it down here."

    "Why must it be a secret, mistress?" Nanu

    queried.

    "Because even in the age Mark and I come from, this

    age, it is not a known technology," she tried to explain. "People
    would be quite frightened by it. And if they weren't frightened, they would try
    to abuse it for their own ends."

    "But isn't that what you and M-ark do?"

    Nanu pointed out. More snickers from Mark.

    Becky closed her eyes for a moment. How could this be so

    difficult compared to the math and calculations of operating the Holmes Field
    Device? "I; Mark and I are not trying to harm people when we travel
    like this, we merely want to experience things. Many people would use it as a
    weapon."

    "Yes," Nanu said, nodding decisively.

    "If I knew how to control this god-device, I would crush all the
    enemies of the Black Land with it and overthrow even mighty Rome. My family's
    name would be one of power and fear!"

    "Incredible, she's ruling the universe, and she hasn't

    even stepped off the platform yet," Becky said dryly while Mark continued
    laughing. "It's a good thing Mark's taking it with him, obviously, to
    spare the time stream your dreadful wrath."

    Nanu tilted her head. "Where is M-ark going with the

    god-device?"

    Becky clasped her hands together in front of her mouth as

    she tried to figure out how to explain this to Nanu. Mark just shook his head.
    "Look, Becks, you may have three months to explain this to her, but I'd
    better get back, or you're never gonna catch up with me."

    "I know," Becky sighed forlornly. The next three

    months were gonna suck. At least she'd be busy with Nanu. "Fine, just put my
    souvenirs on the floor here, and then you'd best go, or I'll be tearing your
    clothes off and keeping you."

    "You got it, teach," Mark said cheerfully,

    unloading the linen and skin bags of items his teacher had brought back for
    herself. A few minutes later, he joined them standing off to the side of the
    device, taking Becky by the hands and smiling down into her eyes.

    "Gonna miss me?" he asked, smirking.

    "You know damn well I will, you insufferable man,"

    she answered, poking his nose while Nanu watched. "Worst part is that you
    won't even notice the time lapse, you jerk."

    "I'll find a way to make it up to you, I promise,"

    he said softly, pulling her against him and putting his strong arms around her.
    She melted into him and they kissed deeply.

    "Umm, you'd better, mister;” she purred as she lost

    herself in the last kiss she'd get from Mark for three months. She pulled back
    from him and wiped at a corner of her mouth, taking a deep breath. "Now
    go, before I rape you."

    Mark turned to Nanu and pulled her into a kiss too, although

    one not quite as deep or passionate as he'd shared with Becky, if only
    because he really needed to get out of there. Every moment he spent here and
    now meant she had to wait even longer to see him again.

    He ended the kiss and the two girls watched as the young man

    stepped onto the platform and began fiddling with dials and buttons. The
    whirring, humming and weird lights began again, indicating that the Holmes
    Field Device was almost ready to do its thing.

    "See you in July, Becks!" Mark called out to them,

    smiling and waving as he and the contraption faded from view. Silence and
    darkness were all that remained. The girls said nothing for several seconds
    before Becky sighed and then turned to smile at Nanu.

    "It's really late, my love," she said,

    taking her new housemate's hand. "What say we get some sleep, and then
    tomorrow, I'll show you your new world?"

    "As long as I'm sleeping with you, mistress, I will

    wait for anything;” Nanu said readily as she committed herself to this new
    world and new future.

    To be continued in part 11. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts, for Literotica.

    1 hr 12 min
  • The Time Riders: Part 9
    The Time Riders: Part 9
    Planning Another Vacation Time Travel.

    Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.



    Cast of Characters:

    Mark

    Simmons: 18 year old High School grad,
    enamored with Miss Becky Fischer. He finds the time machine and builds a new
    life. Uses various aliases in traveling.

    Rebecca

    'Becky' Fischer: Mark’s Physics teacher.
    Very intelligent, in her later twenties, Shapely Tall Blonde, lusty bisexual, D
    Cup tits. Martial arts expert, Uses various aliases in traveling.

    Henri: Claims to be a French physician and Apothicary.

    Chester

    Edgerton: Time traveling mentor, living
    in 17th Century French village.

    Cardinal

    Richelieu: ‘The Red Duke’. Statesman and
    Roman Catholic Cardinal. Dispises Queen Anne.

    Alexandra

    D'Assaut ('Alexa', or 'Lexi': Lady in
    waiting (and trusted advisor) to Queen Anne of France, Lusty bisexual, Very
    Tall, Busty DD tits, long golden blonde hair, Blue eyed.

    Lisette: servant (and lover) of Lady Alexandra, young, bespeckled

    brown eyes. Short, shapely, with wavy dark hair, bisexual.

    Dhallyla: Mark's mother.

    Roxy: Mark's sister.

    Nanu: An Egyptian slave of Pompeneia Flavius, purchased by

    Becky, dark complexion.

    Pompeneia: Roman hostess of Orgies. Lusty wife of Flavius, Mother

    of Domitia, bisexual, tall and shapely.

    Flavius:

    Roman aristocrat, husband of Pompeneia,
    protective father of Dometia,

    Domitia: Lusty young daughter of Pompeneia and Flavius. A

    pledged Vestal Virgin, Escapes to Sumeria when sentenced to death by starvation
    by Roman court.

    The

    Retiallis: A gladiator of the
    Collosseum. Prefers the trident spear and netting, to subdue opponents. Escapes
    to Sumeria.

    Rullus:

    A bulky gladiator of huge physical
    dimensions. Has an affection for Achilleia. Escapes to Sumeria.

    Achilleia:

    A fierce female gladiator. Prefers the
    whip and sword as weapons. Has a crush on Rullus. Escapes to Sumeria.

    Roxy stomped out of his room, trying to not slam the door

    behind her. Once he heard her heading down the stairs, Mark sank onto the
    corner of his bed and exhaled loudly, another shiver running up his spine. He
    suddenly had to pee.

    Had he really told Roxy the truth? He hadn't planned

    to, but he didn't exactly know what he planned to tell her, either. Now that he
    thought of it, telling her the truth was even more ridiculous than any
    appreciable lie he could have come up with, wasn't it? Of course she wouldn't
    believe him about a time machine, and she was quite reasonable not to. Just
    because it was true didn't mean she was committing an error in judgment.

    But now what? He had no idea how long her coerced 'promise'

    would hold her. She was really hot under the collar, and Roxy didn't take
    losing well at the best of times. He'd just have to be careful, he supposed.
    More so.

    He sighed and looked down at her little weed pipe, still in

    its baggie. In a moment of panic, when Roxy had been standing over him and
    threatening to slug him across the jaw, he'd made an instant decision; taking a
    lesson from his playbook with Becky; and resolved that he would get into
    Danni's house and filch the pipe, because he knew Roxy kept it there. He'd
    heard her talking over the phone about it with Danni at various points, and
    never really thought anything of it. Until now.

    He was familiar with Danni's house, since she'd been best

    friends with Roxy since they were little. When the two families were having
    dinner together, the girls had often dragged Mark upstairs and dressed him in
    girl's clothes and put makeup on him, like he was a doll for their tea parties.
    He also knew that Danni's parents didn't care if she smoked, because he'd heard
    Roxy lament this fact over the phone, wishing her parents were that cool.

    He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to do the math of all this

    in his head. It would take Roxy thirty minutes to reach Danni's house in her
    car, to ask what the Hell had happened. But Danni would protest, insisting
    she'd never betray her friend and give Mark the pipe. Then she'd prove
    it by showing Roxy it was exactly where it was supposed to be, which was taped
    inside to the top of her underwear drawer.

    Only it wouldn't be there.

    Unless Mark went back to Danni's place and stashed it again,

    before the girls got up to her room. And then got out again. That'd really fuck
    with Roxy's head, and make Danni think Rox had gone insane.

    It took eight minutes for Mark to fire up and prime the

    Holmes Field Device, which was sitting in a corner in the basement that no one
    ever used. It was dead space, and as safe as any place else could be that
    wasn't Becky's basement. Eight minutes to prime it and program in the coordinates
    and the time. Like, literally a minute after he'd apparently gotten the pipe
    out of there to begin with.

    What?

    His mind was almost spinning at the logic flips. He had to return

    the pipe before he actually stole it? When did he steal it if he hadn't done
    it before returning it? And did that mean he had to steal it twice?

    He could account, apparently, for Danni not being in her

    room the first time, because he'd seemingly gotten away with it. If he landed a
    minute or so after he had burgled her, he would have the time he needed, he
    hoped, before she came back from wherever she was.

    Return it; steal it later, when no one is looking, then

    return it; I think.

    He heard the distinct sound of Roxy's Mustang roaring away

    down the road angrily. He somehow doubted that he had thirty minutes.

    What if he miscalculated and got caught? The obvious issues

    aside, how did he explain the Holmes Field Device?

    Could he explain it? People in this era thought time travel

    was fanciful sci-fi, after all. What happened then?

    He dropped the baggie on the bed, clasped his face in his

    hands and groaned, the number of calculations he needed to do making his head
    hurt. He really needed to stop pulling his solutions out of his ass, he
    was going to give himself a time-hemorrhoid.

    Time was wasting.

    "Wow, Mark," Becky mused as she sat in her

    lounger, sipping at the Falernian wine. Her bottles were almost gone, and
    they'd soon have to go back to their secret place in the woods and get more. It
    had been a rather involved operation, getting the giant vats aged a certain
    number of years back in the Roman era, then transporting them into the present
    and burying them again, so that they had a large stock of perfectly aged wine.
    "You sure like to play with fire, don't you?"

    "Tell me about it," he said wearily, as he sat on

    the couch, long pull drink from his own wine glass. "Can't believe it went
    off without a hitch."

    "You were near death that first night with me,"

    Becky said rather somberly, concerned about the stress on her student's face.
    "And that only required one trip on your part, and my belief in myself.
    This little circus, however, I'll be amazed if your time cops don't show up to
    lecture you again. You'd deserve it."

    "I felt trapped, okay?" he said, trying to keep

    the exasperation out of his voice. He knew Becky was right, and he didn't want
    to snap at her. It had just really worn him out. He'd lost track of when he was
    supposed to be there, and how often. He'd eventually concluded that dumb luck
    had saved him from criminal charges, not to mention any other headaches.
    "I just; when telling her the truth didn't make her go away, I jumped into
    my playbook, which at this time, consists of what I did with you."

    "What would you have done, exactly, if she'd believed

    you about the Holmes Field Device?" Becky queried, looking at him with
    interest.

    He considered and gave a halfhearted shrug. "I guess I

    knew she wouldn't, because if I told Roxy I was a guy, she'd yank my pants down
    to make sure. But to answer your question, I; I dunno. I was just really outta
    options."

    "I know you know this, Mark, but we obviously have to

    find ways for you to be even more careful," she said in a gentle tone.
    "You haven't timelocked yourself yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if you
    came really close there."

    "No shit," he muttered, scowling at his glass.

    "Sorry, just stressed."

    "Oh, poor baby," Becky cooed, getting out of her

    seat and coming over to sit down next to Mark. She pulled him into lean on her
    and then rested his face between her opulent tits, knowing exactly the effect
    this would have on him. "Just relax, it's all fine now."

    Mark sighed and nuzzled into her tits, relaxing a little.

    His teacher's scent and her glorious softness had a calming effect on his
    frazzled nerves. "Uhd, we should go on vacation in some remote time for a
    year or so. I could use it."

    Becky giggled, stroking her fingers through her student's

    dark hair. "If only we could."

    "Well, why couldn't we?" Mark reasoned, still

    nuzzling and refusing to leave his nest. "We've got a time machine, don't
    we?"

    "Mark, a two-week vacation is one thing, but longer

    stretches are problematic."

    "Why?"

    Becky sighed and put down her wine, opting to just hold him

    while he nuzzled her boobs. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy the sensation,
    after all. She knew that Mark, even though he was at least as experienced a
    time traveler as she was at this point, was still an eighteen-year-old boy, who
    had failed her Physics course. He just wasn't good at this stuff yet. But he
    took her with him readily, and she would have all the patience in the world
    until he caught up.

    If he ever did.

    "Mark, let's say you and I did indeed go on vacation

    for a year, somewhere in the time stream," she began, still stroking his
    wavy, dark hair. "And let's say we left tonight."

    "Sounds good, I'm in," Mark replied in a muffled

    tone.

    She smirked and continued. "And we come back after a

    year, to, say, an hour after we left, no one would notice, right?"

    "That's the beauty of it," he agreed, nodding in

    her boobs.

    "But we'd notice," she pointed out. We'd be

    a whole year older than when we left. When you got back, everyone would be
    trying to celebrate your nineteenth birthday, when, in reality, you're twenty.
    And you're the only one aside from me who knows it. Thanks to my captivity in
    the Louvre, I'm already a month older than our calendar indicates, so my
    birthday is technically inaccurate."

    He paused as he considered what she was saying.

    "And let's say, God forbid, that the time machine broke

    down somewhere in the past," she said, her voice taking on a serious tone.
    "Neither of us knows how to fix it, and there's absolutely no guarantee
    that we'd be able to find someone who could. What if it took the two of us five
    years to repair it, against all odds? We'd arrive back, an hour after we left,
    if we could, and everyone would notice we were magically five years older. I'd
    be thirty, you'd be twenty-three. We'd both look somewhat older, undoubtedly.
    How would we account for that?"

    Mark said nothing, just listening.

    "The only alternative would be to arrive five years in

    the future, to make up the difference, but then we've been AWOL with no
    explanation for five years," she continued. "Sure, maybe you can say
    you joined the merchant marines without a moment's notice, but what would I
    say?"

    She took his chin gently and turned his head to look up into

    her blue eyes.

    "We can't mess with the time stream and people's lives

    like that," she said quietly, almost sadly. "We're not from an era
    where time travel is the norm and people know what to expect."

    "You sure know how to take the fun out of time travel,

    Becks," he sighed, shaking his head. She giggled and cradled him in her
    bosom again, knowing he didn't mean it.

    "Silly," she cooed, jiggling her tits against his

    face a little. "You know better than anyone how much fun I can be in the
    time stream."

    "Yeah, that's true," Mark admitted, smiling and

    turning over on his back to look up at her while he lay in her lap. She was
    wearing black yoga pants, and a tight tank top and gave her impressive bust
    lots of breathing room. "But I really could use a little time away, to be
    honest. This nonsense stressed me out."

    "I'm sure it did, and hopefully you'll start thinking

    about these things ahead of time," she agreed, poking him in the nose.
    "In terms of what we could do, I have been giving the matter some
    thought."

    Mark raised an eyebrow. Becky never had bad ideas. Not

    compared to his, in any event. "I'm all ears."

    "Hardly," Becky giggled, reaching her hand down to

    gently cup his crotch beneath his jeans. "Let me explain first. You're not
    the only one with a predicament, although mine isn't necessarily
    self-inflicted."

    "Still listening," Mark said dryly, noticing the

    cheerful jibe.

    "It's difficult, being separated by three months the

    way we are," Becky said, caressing his cheek. "You, the Mark lying in
    my lap, you're from my upcoming summer. Me, I'm still waiting for the school
    year to finish. And three times a week, I see you in my classroom, and have to
    remind myself that the you sitting in that desk is not only still a minor,
    still, but has absolutely no idea about any of this."

    Mark said nothing, considering.

    "And I have to constantly be on guard, making sure I'm

    not sitting behind my desk, gazing at you dreamily in an off moment, or
    reminding myself not to sext you from the bathroom."

    "Damn, now I kinda wish you had," Mark mused,

    making her snicker.

    "Silly. What I'm saying, is that I think in the very

    near future, we'll need to not see each other for three months, as agonizing as
    that sounds, so that I can catch up with you."

    Mark screwed up his face as he thought about that.

    "That does sound sucky."

    "Oh, it won't be for you," Becky pointed out.

    "You get to hop on your time machine and return to three months from now,
    just like you always do every time we meet up. You won't even notice the
    difference. But you've also very tacitly avoided my future self for now,
    haven't you?"

    He nodded. "Yeah, you said to. Not that hard; it's a

    big city, and you told me where you tend to be at any given time, so it isn't
    much of a challenge."

    "Well, I want to catch up," Becky said firmly.

    "I want us to be on the same relative time frame, so that we don't need to
    worry about twists and so on, where things can go wrong. And if that means not
    seeing this you for three months," she whispered, placing her hand
    gently on his crotch, "and no time travelling for me because you've got
    the Holmes Field Device, then I'll manage. But it needs fixing, Mark."

    "Okay, done," Mark agreed, nodding. "But you

    mentioned something fun, which hasn't come up yet in this presentation so
    far."

    "Well," Becky began again. "I was thinking

    that we really should go and get Nanu and bring her forward with us. "It's
    not fair to leave her in that villa by herself. She doesn't really know how to
    look after herself, after all."

    "But we can keep visiting her," Mark pointed out.

    "She doesn't understand time travel, she'd hardly notice."

    "If we keep coming back to the same point in time to

    visit her, or at least within the same period frequently, it's true that little
    or no time will have passed for her," Becky said. "But we have our
    own lives, and goodness only knows when we'll have the time to pop out to
    Imperial Rome again. Years might pass for us before we can see her. How would
    we explain how much older we look to her?"

    "That again," Mark sighed, resenting the

    mathematical drudgery of time travel. "Yeah, that would freak her out. And
    as far as she's concerned, I'm still your slave, and she is too."

    "It's a notion I'll have to disabuse her of, once we

    bring her back here," Becky confirmed. "But I was thinking we'd have
    some fun when we go back and get her, and then she could stay with me. I'd
    spend our three months apart teaching her about our time and world, and when
    you meet us, we'd all be caught up together. Sound good?"

    "Well, I can't imagine it not being fun if you're

    around," Mark replied, grinning and sitting up, feeling considerably
    better after this talk with his teacher. "What're we gonna use to get the
    funds?"

    "Well," Becky said, making a cute show of thinking.

    "I've actually checked with that chroniques dealer? The one over on
    Adelaide that we were directed to?"

    "You've been busy!" Mark laughed, putting his arm

    around her shoulder.

    "I like to be prepared," she purred, snuggling

    into his side. "Anyway, I told him about my complete collection of
    Monchhichi minis that I inherited from my older cousin when I was young. Never
    did anything with 'em, because they just took up shelf space. But he's willing
    to give me a lot of money for them, apparently they're huge in the
    thirty-third century."

    "Well, of course they are," Mark said, rolling his

    eyes. "I; what the Hell are they, anyway? Never heard of 'em."

    "Oh, just collectible figurines from Japan in the

    Seventies, they look like cute little lolicon monkeys, along with a plushie
    toyline and several cartoons," she explained, waiving dismissively.
    "I couldn't care less about them, and if they make some person happy
    thirteen hundred years in the future, great. I'm getting lots of money for
    'em."

    "Okay," Mark agreed, shrugging. "I was gonna

    sell my dad's Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots or Micronauts if we needed the geld. I'd
    probably get a good price on those, too."

    "You will," she confirmed. "But my lolicon

    monkeys are worth more, so we'll use them. So, we'll go see Nanu, tell her
    what's really up, have a lot of fun, spread my money around, and then bring her
    back. Sound good? I think two weeks of solid sucking and fucking should make
    you forget your woes."

    "I can hardly wait," Mark declared.

    "Why wait at all, big boy?" she purred again, as

    she undid his fly and bent her head down while fishing his cock out of his
    pants.

    Nanu sighed as she sat on the solium, kicking her

    legs back and forth slowly as she looked at the mosaic on the floor. It had
    been over a week now since she had seen anybody, let alone her mistress.
    As gorgeous as her surroundings were, this expansive villa hidden in the
    distant hills outside of mighty Rome, she was decidedly lonely. She'd never
    really spent any appreciable time by herself before Lady Aurora had purchased
    her from the Flavians.

    Despite her mistress' unwelcome absence, she found herself

    smiling as she thought of her. Lovely, lovely Lady Aurora Horatia; tall, with
    long, golden blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, sensuous lips that were always
    parted to show her white teeth and radiant smile.

    Her thoughts turned to the lady's other parts now, and she

    blushed. She thought of her mistress' lovely neck, supple shoulders, her large,
    perky bust, trim waist and glorious, tight ass. Nanu felt warm as she pictured
    Lady Aurora's cunt, which she kept smooth and clean; so unusual for a Roman
    patrician woman. She had long, strong dancer's legs, just like Nanu. She
    remembered how captivated she'd been while she watched Lady Aurora dance at the
    orgy.

    Bonosus.

    Lady Aurora's principal slave, and her lover. Dark, wavy

    hair, and deep brown eyes; he was unnaturally tall, at least to Nanu, with an
    athletic build, broad shoulders, and a small waist that was hard to the touch;
    and his cock was huge. It had felt like it was tearing Nanu apart when she rode
    on it with wild abandon.

    She came out of her reverie and looked around again, sighing

    forlornly. The villa was beautiful, with plastered walls covered in colorful
    frescoes, mosaic floors, indoor bathing chambers and toilets, beautiful
    gardens, a stream just behind the building, and all the delicious food she
    could eat. She had all the creature comforts any slave could ever want, but it
    was still quiet and lonely for her.

    She looked down at herself, using her fingers to pull slightly

    at the material of the top of the dress she wore. It was a spare garment, made
    of quality linen, one of several Lady Aurora had bought for Nanu from the
    Flavius family. Of course, the slave girl was thrilled beyond words to wear
    such a thing, and in all ways, she saw her ownership by Lady Aurora as a
    turning point in her life, the beginning of something wonderful beyond words.
    She and Bonosus were the luckiest slaves to ever live.

    But not if she was so very alone.

    Nanu, born into poverty in the tiny settlement of Akhmim in

    Egypt, the youngest of twelve children. Sold into slavery to the Flavians at a
    tender age to help feed her family, she'd lived a hard life, doing the most
    menial of tasks for the wealthy Roman family at their home in Tepihu, far up the
    Nile.

    But then they discovered she could dance, and dance well.

    She was sent to the principal Flavian household in distant Rome, a place she'd
    only ever heard of, and could never imagine. She danced for the patriarch and
    his wife, and they agreed to keep her on, as long as her legs held out. So Nanu
    danced relentlessly, determined to never return to the misery she'd known
    before.

    Within a year, she was the leader of the dancing girls the

    Flavians owned, and whatever jealousies the other girls might have held were
    quickly cast aside. Nanu understood that if she treated them all equally, she
    was more likely to prosper, rather than looking after only herself at their
    expense. She was lovers with all of them, and it wasn't long before she was
    fucking the lord and lady as well. Her position was as secure as a slave's
    could be under such circumstances.

    True, she was still punished, quite often for things beyond

    her control. But the Flavians were not overly harsh with her, having her
    flogged with short, thin reed brooms, to avoid scarring her. It hurt, and she
    cried, but she inevitably recovered, usually to be fucked by Master Flavius as
    she soon as she could walk.

    She left the chair and walked over to a small table, on

    which sat a highly polished silver mirror. She picked it up and looked at
    herself, pursing her lips, assessing her features. She'd always concluded that
    she was at least somewhat attractive, since men (and women) always wanted to
    fuck her. She was aware that being a highly trained dancer gave her a desirable
    physique for a slave, and her strong, taut muscles kept her cunt tight. Her
    tits were not overly large, but were pronounced from her torso, and jiggled
    when she danced or ran. She thought they swayed nicely when she walked.

    She had the creamy bronze skin of the people of the Black

    Lands, children of the pharaohs. Her thick hair was a glossy blue-black, and
    she kept it trimmed to just past her jaw, in the manner of women in her
    country. Her eyes were a warm hazel, with tawny flecks many of the other
    dancing girls described as bewitching and seductive. If only she could-

    "Well now, if it isn't everyone's favorite dancing

    slave," quipped a lyrical voice from nearby. Nanu's head snapped
    around and she cried out in delight as she espied Lady Aurora standing in the
    door nearby, with Bonuses just behind, looming over her and grinning. Nanu had
    been so wrapped up in looking at her reflection and feeling sorry for herself
    that she hadn't even heard them approach.

    "Mistress!" the Egyptian girl called out as

    she darted across the room and threw herself into Lady Aurora's waiting arms.
    "Magistra! How I Have Missed You!"

    "We've missed you too, Nanu," Becky said

    softly, hugging the shorter girl and kissing the top of her head while Nanu
    burst into tears. "I'm sorry we were away for so long."

    "It felt like forever, mistress, I won't lie," Nanu

    said, choking back her sobs before pressing her mouth to Becky's and kissing
    her fiercely. Becky returned the kiss gladly, and the women greeted one another
    with tangling tongues and wandering hands for nearly a minute before they
    needed to breathe. Nanu looked up at Becky now, her eyes still wide and wet
    with emotion. "May I; may I say hello to Bonosus, mistress?"

    "I'm pretty sure he's counting on it," Becky

    said, stepping aside and giggling as Nanu flung herself against Mark, kissing
    him feverishly, but with her hands predictably snaking down his frame and under
    his tunic to fondle his cock. "Goodness, girl, did those toys I left
    get no love from you in my absence?"

    "Oh, mistress, they got loved day and night,"

    Nanu replied, turning to look at Becky since she was being addressed. "But
    I do not need to tell you that it is hardly the same as the real thing, as to
    have a real lover. And I am sorry if it makes me sound deficient, but; I am not
    good at being alone. I am not at all used to it."

    "Oh, I'm sorry, darling," Becky said as

    Mark picked Nanu up in his arms and carried her back into the room. Nanu had
    her arms around his neck, and seemed to be in absolute heaven, now that the two
    most important people in her life had returned. "But we're back now,
    and we have no intention of leaving you behind again."

    Nanu looked curious. "Won't leave me behind again;

    are we going somewhere, mistress? Are we to leave the villa?"

    "It will take some explaining, I promise you

    that," Becky answered, nodding. "But first, I think the three
    of us should fuck one another stupid all over the villa, don't you?"

    Nanu's face lit up at her mistress' suggestion and she

    nodded eagerly. "Yes, mistress! I want to fuck you both until I cannot
    see or walk straight!"

    Becky made a grand gesture with her hand, taking in the

    whole villa. "Then you may pick where we fuck, my love. Anywhere, as
    much as you please. We await your pleasure."

    Nanu looked around in almost breathless excitement as Mark

    put her down. She didn't know where to begin, only that she wanted to fuck
    Mistress Aurora and Bonosus in every single area of the villa. She'd been so
    glum that she barely noticed how horny she was. Now the rampant feelings of
    lust washed over her, and her cunt was shamefully wet. She grabbed Becky's hand
    and pulled her excitedly along through the house.

    "This way!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide

    with anticipation. "I want us to bathe and fuck!"

    Becky and Mark laughed as they followed the Egyptian girl

    into the small antechamber in front of the sudatorium, which Mark and
    Becky would normally identify as a sauna. They were amazed at the speed with
    which Nanu had not only removed her own clothes, but also undressed the two of them.
    Clearly she was in great need and had no intention of waiting. She had
    apparently lit the fire to heat the small room earlier in the day, for her own
    use, and now all she had to do was scrub the three of them down before bringing
    them inside. With a small sponge and rough linen cloths, she did this quickly.

    She then brought them into the sweat room, which was filled

    with steam already. Rocks in the little containment chamber over the brazier
    heated water and caused the steam, while small pouches of herbs hung over the
    rocks, and wine dripped through them to sizzle and evaporate, giving the steam
    a heady, aromatic quality that often left guests somewhat drunk.

    The three now stretched out on the wooden benches that lined

    the wall, sighing and relaxing for a moment before Nanu's eagerness overtook
    her. She crawled on top of Becky and kissed her deeply, squirming her body down
    into her mistress' while they fondled one another. Mark watched on lazily,
    knowing that the day was young, and it was best that he conserve his strength.
    Keeping up with Nanu's libido was no small task, not to mention Becky's once
    she got going.

    It wasn't long before the two girls were locked in a

    slippery, trembling sixty-nine, moaning as they lapped at one another's twats
    and fingered each other's puckered knots. Nanu came so hard she almost shrieked
    inside Becky's cunt, while the blonde goddess shuddered and speared her tongue
    deep inside her lover as she came, glazing Nanu's face with her cum.

    Both girls seemed almost to become puddles, sighing

    languidly as they lay together, bodies shining with sweat. Through the haze of
    steam, Mark could see them kissing one another's pussies gently, and the look
    on Nanu's face could only be described as rapture, mixed with a sense of relief
    and contentment. She was so happy her mistress had come back to her.

    But Nanu recovered quickly, turning her head to look at her

    fellow 'slave', whom she knew as Bonosus. Mark was lying on his side on the
    bench he occupied, idly stroking his cock. Nanu had already focused on his
    manhood like an arrow, and managed to extricate herself from Becky without
    disturbing her mistress' bliss, and crawled across the tile floor on all fours,
    her hazel eyes glinting.

    Without waiting, she knelt next to him, moved Mark's hand aside,

    and took his cock into her grip. She began stroking slowly and gently, before
    leaning in to kiss the swelling tool lovingly. She swirled her tongue around
    the head, then up and down the hardening shaft several times, her hand
    following her tongue. Then she popped her mouth around the head and slowly
    pushed down, humming as she moved wetly down his length. Mark sighed in
    pleasure and began running his hand through her raven hair.

    Becky now watched, caressing her creamy cunt as she gazed

    over at the lovers. Mark was half on his back, half on his side, while Nanu was
    kneeling on the floor, bent over and bobbing up and down on his stiff cock. Her
    tiny hand made a gentle twisting motion on the smooth skin of his shaft,
    following her warm, wet mouth. Becky smiled, knowing how great it was to give
    her student head, since she'd done it countless times herself now. Things would
    be so much easier for them all when she finally caught up with him in the
    timeline.

    Mark stroked down Nanu's back and reached her ass, giving

    one of the tight, perk cheeks a squeeze before nudging her. Nanu took the hint
    readily and stood up, clambering over Mark's face and looking down his body.
    The bench wouldn't have been big enough for Mark and Becky to do what was now
    happening, but Nanu was considerably smaller than Becky, and somehow managed.
    She leaned down his body, crying out suddenly as Mark pulled her ass cheeks
    apart and slid his tongue around her gooey cunt. She trembled and squirmed for
    several moments before composing herself and returning to the task of sucking
    on his cock hungrily. He was at full mast now, and Nanu's tiny hand could
    hardly fit around the girth of his shaft. Amazingly, though, she could take his
    manhood all the way inside her mouth, and down her throat readily. Becky's
    slave was as gifted as she was shameless, clearly.

    Nanu grunted as Mark slid one of his fingers inside her ass.

    Mark had larger hands than most people from her home era, and his finger was
    larger than some dicks she'd had back there before. Or at least, it certainly
    felt that way at the moment. She accepted the intrusion willingly, squirming
    back against his hand, and squeezing her tight tunnel around it while he
    massaged her cunt and clit with her tongue. She let out little moans, still
    bobbing up and down while giving Becky a sidelong look with heavily lidded,
    glazed eyes.

    Determined to not be left out, Becky slowly rose from her

    bench and wiggled over across the small area. She observed the setting with a
    critical eye for several moments, working out the logistics of how to best fit
    into this carnal puzzle. Just like she could not readily engage in a sixty-nine
    with Mark on these relatively (to them) narrow benches, she could not straddle
    him and fuck him to proper effect either.

    The answer presented itself quickly. She eased Nanu up into

    a sitting position over Mark's face, and if the slave girl was disappointed in
    having to relinquish that delicious cock, the feeling quickly gave way to yelps
    of delight as she sank her cunt even further down onto Mark's tongue, squirming
    and grinding lustily.

    Becky pumped and stroked Mark's cock steadily for several

    seconds, making sure he would stay hard. He was lying down the length of the
    bench, his tool ramrod-erect for her. She then stood and moved over his
    midsection, facing out into the tiny chamber. She bent her knees and reached
    under, steadying his throbbing cock while she guided it to her cuntlips. One
    she had him in place, she slowly sat down, sighing as he pushed up inside her
    steaming depths. Her ass come to rest on his hips, while she sat sideways on
    him, pinned to his cock. She closed her eyes and just savored the sensation for
    several seconds, her fingers flexing against his stomach and his knee,
    respectively.

    She finally opened her blue eyes and turned her head to

    smile at Nanu, who was moving up and down slowly on Mark's tireless tongue.
    Becky leaned in toward the slave, who immediately moved her torso forward to
    meet Becky. They kissed over Mark's long form, tongues tangling while Becky
    began to move up and down slowly, loving the feel of this unique position with
    him deep inside her.

    The threesome slowly squirmed and undulated against one

    another, time lost within the confines of the tiny, steaming chamber. The dim,
    amber light of the fire beneath the heated stones was their only illumination,
    but in this misty, ethereal sitting, it was utter perfection. The scent of
    spiced wine mingled with the aromas of bodies making love. Becky could taste
    the wine in Nanu's sweat as she drew her tongue along the girl's collarbone and
    over her tits.

    "I think it's about time for you to fuck Nanu and cum

    in her, Mark," Becky panted after several minutes of churning up and down
    on his thick rod. She was massaging and groping her tits, or Nanu's as she
    rode. The Egyptian girl had reached forward and was massaging her mistress'
    cunt dutifully as well. "It's been a few weeks for her, and you just
    filled me up this morning."

    "Relatively speaking," Mark quipped from beneath

    Nanu's writhing hips. "You sit on the bench and spread 'em, Becks, and she
    can kneel and lick you. I'll get behind her."

    Becky had no problem with this plan, and quickly coaxed Nanu

    off Mark's face, to kneel on the floor in front of her. Nanu's eyes widened
    with delight as Becky smiled and parted her legs, before reaching down with two
    fingers to spread her thick nether lips wide, exposing her glistening inner
    pink to the slave girl. Nanu practically dived in, and Becky grunted and almost
    jumped, clasping the girl's head suddenly, her feet leaving the floor.

    "Nuh, fuck!" she wheezed as Nanu began lapping at

    her like she was eating her last meal before she died. Her fingers gripped
    Nanu's black hair while she began grinding her snatch against the girl's face desperately.
    Nanu licked cunt like nobody's business.

    Mark, meanwhile, had positioned himself behind Nanu, and

    lined his cock up with her dripping twat, holding her by the ass cheeks. Nanu
    trembled while he slid his cockhead up and down her slippery lips, and against
    her tingling clit, making her squeak and whimper into Becky's cunt. He braced
    her for only the briefest of moments before sliding inside her without any
    warning, sinking in to the hilt. The Egyptian slave-girl wailed in ecstasy as
    he forced her wide, pinning her to him.

    Mark began fucking Nanu with a steady, strong pace, and she

    yelped into her mistress' cunt with each thrust, even while lapping at her pink
    twat hungrily. Her face was shining with sweat, and Becky's wetness, her tongue
    thick with the cloying sweetness of the blonde woman. Nanu's head was spinning
    in delight. Surely this was the heavenly afterlife?

    Becky almost curled up on herself, her fingernails

    threatening to leave grooves in Nanu's scalp as she shook uncontrollably and
    came, barely able to keep herself from screeching. She slathered Nanu's face in
    her essence, her entire body tingling with fire. Nanu shuddered and writhed,
    wailing as she came, her cunt tightening around Mark's cock fiendishly. As if
    on cue, Mark arched his back, gritted his teeth and growled, pumping all his
    cum inside Nanu, thrusting strongly.

    The trio rocked and writhed in depraved unison for close to

    a minute before Mark leaned forward on Nanu's back, breathing heavily. Becky
    sighed in exhaustion, sinking down on the bench, her cunt pressing into Nanu's
    face. The slave girl, pinned in place between her mistress and her fellow
    slave, simply held still, surrounded by warm, slick flesh and gently caressing
    fingers. She could still feel Bonosus throbbing deep inside her, and her
    mistress' cunt oozed against her mouth. She felt so blessed and safe like this.

    But then she looked up from between Becky's legs, her own

    glinting with eagerness. "Come! I know where we need to fuck next!"

    And with that, the Egyptian girl extricated herself from

    between them and wiggled quickly out of the room. Mark groaned and sagged
    forward between Becky's tits, and she held onto him wearily.

    "Now I know why we can't leave her for weeks on

    end," he mumbled in her cleavage. "Because we won't survive the
    backlog of fucking we need to do;”

    Nanu was sitting in the chair, her expression one of

    bewilderment. She seemed to have forgotten the goblet of wine in her hand, and
    she sat with her arms and legs tucked in close to her body. Clearly, she was
    confused and feeling uncertain about what she was hearing.

    "You're; mistress, you're not a Roman at all?"

    she asked quietly as she stared at Becky. They were sitting in the atrium of
    the villa, and it was a quiet evening. Birds sang, and a gentle breeze caressed
    their faces and the nearby blossoms as it dipped over the villa and into the
    central opening.

    Becky shook her head, knowing that this was going to take a

    lot of patience on her and Mark's part; and even more on Nanu's. Everything she
    was in the process of telling the girl would sound completely preposterous,
    even more so than Mark's explanation to his sister the day before.

    "No, Nanu, I'm not a Roman of any sort,"

    the blonde woman confessed, trying to smile. "And my name is not Aurora
    Horatia. My name is Rebecca."

    "Rebekah?" Nanu queried, making a wry face.

    "That is a Hebrew name."

    She looked Becky up and down skeptically. "You don't

    look like a Hebrew."

    The slave girl looked at Mark. "And your name is not

    Bonosus, and you're not a Roman either?"

    He shook his head. "Nope. I'm Mark. And Becks is

    actually my teacher."

    Nanu squeezed her eyes shut for several seconds and when she

    finally opened them, they were filled with worry. "Are; are you going
    to kill me?"

    Despite herself, Becky burst into giggle fits at the

    question. Nanu looked confused, and then slightly irked at the response from
    her 'mistress'. She thought it was a perfectly reasonable question, under these
    circumstances. She folded her arms, crossed her legs, and looked off at the sky
    over the far wall, annoyed.

    "I'm sorry, Nanu," Becky said finally

    reining herself in. "I wasn't laughing at you, I mean it. It just
    wasn't what I expected to hear at all, and we both love you too much to ever
    consider killing you. Hell, I'm not sure we could if we tried."

    "Well I don't know what to believe,"

    sniffed the younger girl. "You've bought me, and taken me away from a
    comfortable, if not happy life, and nearly gotten me killed at least once, and
    then there was that; thing; that you two ride around on;”

    "The Holmes Field Device," Becky said,

    nodding. "It doesn't just take us where we want to go, it allows us to
    travel through time, which is why we are here at all."

    Nanu shook her head, indicating that she had no idea what

    Becky meant. The teacher leaned forward slightly, smiling. They weren't sitting
    that far apart, but she had allowed for a small amount of distance between
    them, so that Nanu didn't feel trapped or pressured if she took all this
    poorly. To be honest, she was taking it surprisingly well, even if she wasn't
    buying all of it.

    "Nanu, I apologize for asking simple questions, but

    please bear with me;” she said quietly, noticing that even if she was
    listening, Nanu was now staring at Becky's cleavage, framed between her arms
    while she sat forward. Mark was staring too. Some thing would never change.
    "You understand the concepts of yesterday, today and tomorrow, yes?"

    Nanu nodded slowly. "Yes, mistress."

    "Do you ever wish you could visit days that have

    gone by?" Becky asked. "Like maybe go back and visit your
    childhood, or meet some member of your family who was lost years ago? Or even
    see the Sphinx getting built?"

    The girl looked confused again. "Suh-finx?"

    Becky looked at Mark, hoping for some help. He still had the

    chip that let him speak Egyptian in his head. He pondered the issue for a
    moment before the tiny computer in his noggin gave him the answer. He looked at
    Nanu and smiled. "Horemakhet."

    Nanu's eyes went wide. To see the Horus of the Western

    Horizon being built by the gods.

    She shook her head. "What you say is impossible!"

    Becky smiled now, not blaming Nunu for her disbelief. "Nanu,

    a long time ago, people would have thought that chariots were impossible, that
    mastering fire and steel were impossible. But you know they're not just possible,
    you know that these things are fact."

    Nanu nodded, willing to listen to her beloved mistress, who

    apparently wasn't her mistress. But she listened.

    "Mark and I come from many, many tomorrows away, a

    time many years from now. That device that we travel on, it allows us to do it."

    The Egyptian girl screwed up her face, trying to understand.

    She thought she'd heard outlandish things in her life before, but this was so
    far beyond her conceptions and experience that it sounded like a ridiculous
    fable her grandmother would tell her. But she had stepped on the
    wondrous device, and it had taken them somewhere far away from Rome in
    the blink of an eye, and back. She could not deny this had happened, even if
    she didn't understand it.

    Which brought up a big question for her.

    "Why do you do this?" she queried, looking

    at each of them.

    Mark shrugged. "It's fun to move through time and do

    things."

    Another skeptical look from Nanu. "You think it's

    fun to have the gladiators of Rome try to kill you?"

    Mark faltered slightly. "I; well, no, not that part."

    Becky giggled. "No, Nanu, that part is unplanned.

    Mark and I like to travel to different times, to see important events, and to
    fuck there."

    Nanu tilted her head curiously at the statement. "What

    it so important about fucking in these places?"

    Becky considered her answer. "There's nothing

    important about it, you're right. But it's still fun. We love to do these
    things, because almost no one else can. And hopefully it's exciting but not
    dangerous. If we didn't do this, we never would have met you, and we wouldn't
    be fucking you now. And we both wouldn't be crazy about you."

    Nanu's stomach was in her feet as she thought about what her

    mis; what Rebekah was saying. She was horrified by the thought now that she
    might never have met them, they she might not have been bought, or living here,
    in freedom, and getting fucked to her little heart's content.

    "But if you are not; not from today;” she

    murmured, trying to formulate her thoughts around these strange concepts.
    "Then you will keep leaving me. You might come back, but you will keep
    leaving."

    Becky could see the tears welling in Nanu's eyes, and she

    rose from her chair and moved to sit with the smaller girl, cradling her into
    her bosom as Nanu tried not to cry.

    "Oh, Nanu, I'm sorry," she cooed. "I

    didn't realize how hard it was for you to be alone."

    "I've never been alone," sniffled the

    raven-haired girl, wrapping her arms around Becky's waist tightly, unwilling to
    let go. "My whole life, I've never been alone for so much as a day,
    never mind a week. It was terrifying. I'm a slave, you know."

    Becky caressed her fingers through Nanu's hair and kissed

    the top of her said. "I understand now. And I am sorry. But Mark and I
    wanted to talk to you about that, actually."

    Nanu choked back a sob and looked up at Becky, ready to hear

    what she had to say.

    "Mark and I want to bring you with us,"

    Becky explained, using a thumb to wipe some tears from Nanu's cheek. "Come
    back to our time, and perhaps take you with us on our adventures."

    Nanu's eyes went wide. "L; leave Rome?"

    Becky shrugged. "Is there anyone left for you to

    care about?"

    "Well, no." Nanu admitted.

    "And as I've already told you, Mark and I are crazy

    about you, so since we cannot stay here in Rome with you, maybe you should come
    with us, Becky continued. "I love having you around."

    Nanu's face lit up at Becky's words, but then a cloud passed

    over her face as things occurred to her. "But I; know nothing about
    this place you are from. How would I live?"

    "Well I would teach you, of course," Becky

    replied, smiling. "And it'll probably be terrifying at first, since you
    will see things you cannot even imagine, but Mark and I will protect you and
    help you learn."

    "I; would stay with you?" Nanu asked in a

    voice begging for assurance.

    Becky nodded.

    "You won't leave me alone?"

    The blonde woman smiled. "Well, I might have to step

    out the door once in a while to go and get food, or go to my job, but I won't
    leave you alone for days at a time, I promise."

    Nanu returned to hugging Becky, looking off at the far wall

    across the atrium. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she thought about
    what she should do.

    Did she take these two up on their weird offer?

    Did she just ask to stay here at the villa, and take her

    chances about when they could visit?

    Did she ask to be sent back to the Flavius household?

    Every option terrified her.

    She finally looked up at Becky again and drew a deep breath.

    "Can we; fuck some more, while I think about it?"

    Becky and Mark both laughed and nodded their assent. It was

    the most Nanu thing Nanu had ever said.

    Predictably, Nanu, after much fucking and pondering, had

    decided to take Mark and Becky up on their offer. Delighted, Becky had declared
    that they would be doing some shopping first, heading into Rome to get things
    she wanted. Nanu was always happy to visit the city, she was always enthralled
    by the sights and sounds around her.

    "But I; I must point out something," she

    confessed, looking uneasy. "I know you keep saying that I need not be
    your slave anymore, but it is not safe for me to walk around freely, Mistress,
    no matter what you tell me. If you say you don't own me, I am still a slave to
    them. They'll put me in chains and have me on the auction block again in no
    time, but probably not before they do awful things to me."

    "She has a point, Becks," Mark started,

    shrugging as he fastened his tunic in place. "We may know slavery is
    immoral, but Rome doesn't give a shit. As far as they're concerned, you're still
    a patrician woman, and we're still your slaves."

    "Which brings up another troublesome fact,"

    Becky sighed, building on Mark's premise. "You're the most hated
    individual in Rome. You defiled a Vestal Virgin;”

    "Pervert," Nanu said in a low voice, nudging

    Mark.

    "You made a mockery of the legal system, and turned

    the Colosseum into a sexual freak show. I wouldn't be surprised if every
    soldier in Rome had orders to skewer you on sight."

    "Hey, I'm not the one who dropped a giant canvas

    sail on the emperor's head and wiggled my tits at seventy thousand people, you
    know!" Mark protested.

    "Well, that part was fun," Becky

    mused, smirking, lapsing into English for a moment. "So what do we do? I
    want to go shopping, but without getting you killed."

    "Yeah, you've got a point there," Mark allowed,

    looking at the ground as he pondered the issue. Nanu looked back and forth
    between them as they spoke in their unintelligible gibberish. "Well, we
    either need a disguise for me, so I don't look like Bonosus anymore, or we need
    to jump back a few days to before we arrived, and before anyone would know
    us."

    "More of your time twists," Becky chided, holding

    up a finger. "Didn't you learn?"

    "I know what you mean, but I kinda think we did

    that," Mark replied. "Don't you remember how you said people were
    waving at you like they knew you already, and you thought that was weird? That
    maybe they'd mistaken you for someone else? It's kinda unlikely that they are
    mistaking you for anyone, Becks. You're as tall as most of the men, and you're
    like a living embodiment of Venus to them, with blonde hair."

    "I'm afraid you may be right," Becky sighed, not

    liking the hypothesis, but forced to admit it was probably accurate. "So
    we go back maybe a week before we first arrived, do our shopping, and
    split?"

    Mark turned and looked at Nanu now. "Nanu, have you

    been into the city of Rome any time in the last week before you met us? Or
    anyone from the Flavius household?"

    "Ooh, good catch, Mark," Becky mentioned, nodding.

    "Can't have her running into herself by accident, no matter how
    unlikely."

    Nanu considered for a moment and then shook her head. "No,

    before you arrived, it had been more than a month, I think. Master Flavius
    resented paying the prices they wanted in the city, he usually made us shop in
    Lavinium, it was cheaper."

    Mark shrugged. "We could probably do your shopping and

    find some fun, Becks. Then we'll plan our next move. Sound good?"

    Becky removed her outfit, letting pool around her feet

    before sitting down in a low chair. She held out her arms, beckoning for Nanu
    to join her. The Egyptian girl shed her clothing, and then went to sit naked in
    her blonde lover's lap, their lovely tits squashing together. They kissed for
    some moments before Becky smiled at Nanu.

    "I want to buy you some outfits, Nanu, outfits like

    I wear. Would you like to dress and look like mistress?"

    It seemed as though Nanu might faint. Becky was also pretty

    sure she felt the girl getting wet. She giggled and kissed Nanu's nose. "I'll
    take that as a yes."

    Rome.

    The litter glided through the crowded street, with people

    dutifully making way for it; whomever was inside was clearly important. The
    four dark-skinned slaves bearing it on their shoulders walked along silently,
    seemingly not bothered by the weight within. The litter itself was simple in
    design, but ornate in appearance, the canopy held aloft on carved poles, and
    much of it decorated with gold leaf or edging. Diaphanous curtains on all sides
    obscured the women within.

    Becky and Nanu lay on their sides, facing in toward one

    another. Nanu was wearing a beautiful stola, just like Becky, and she
    gazed down at her raiment in wonder, running a hand delicately over the fabric.
    Becky smiled as she watched the Egyptian girl while reaching into a bowl
    between them and putting a grape in her mouth.

    "Mistress, this is wonderful," Nanu

    whispered, knowing to not refer to Becky as her mistress too loudly. "I've
    never felt anything like this in my life, except on someone else."

    "Well, it's yours, and yours alone, so enjoy it,"

    Becky said cheerfully, enjoying Nanu's elation. She put another grape between
    her teeth and smiled slyly. Nanu leaned in and took the grape between her own
    teeth, their lips touching. As Nanu masticated on the grape, Becky opened the
    gauze-like drapes in the back if the litter and called out gently. "How we
    doing back there, Mark?"

    "Oh, just fine, thanks so very much for asking,"

    muttered the student-slave, who trudged along behind the litter, carrying
    several handbags made of linen and animal skins, filled with shopping goods.
    His hands and shoulders ached. How the Hell could Becky purchase so much shit
    in an era that didn't have electronics? "How much farther we got?"

    "Not too much longer, I think," mused the blonde

    teacher casually. She wasn't too worried about Mark having to carry stuff, he'd
    been through worse recently. She'd bought outfits and jewelry, pretty house
    furnishings, and other curios to take home. She considered what she'd need to
    buy for Nanu upon their return. Clothes aside, she would somehow need to
    procure ID for her, some sorts of medical records, and so forth.

    How did she get any of that done?

    "Will I like my new life, mistress?" Nanu

    asked, eating another grape. "I am sure I will love living with you,
    but;”

    Becky smiled and caressed her face lovingly. "It

    will be very, very different, Nanu. And at times it will seem frightening. But
    there are so many things I cannot wait to show you."

    "Then I will wait and trust you," the

    Egyptian girl said softly, giving herself over to her mistress' carefully in
    her mind. "Because I believe you when you say you love me and want the
    best for me."

    Nanu was silent for some time, as if deep in thought.

    "What's on your mind, darling?" Becky

    asked, curious.

    Nanu sighed. "I just miss my family. I have not seen

    them since I was young. And I dreamed of returning to them one day."

    Becky smiled. "Oh, you want to be a free woman, of

    course."

    "It is a nice dream," Nanu admitted. "I

    dreamed of returning to them free of my chains, wearing fine clothes, and
    heaped with wealth. I think every slave wishes it were so."

    "Well, we could go visit them," Becky

    suggested after a moment of thought. "Would you like that?"

    Nanu blushed. "On your wondrous device. Oh,

    mistress, what would I tell them? What would I have to show them? I am still a
    slave, and they sold me a long time ago. They have no doubt forgotten me."

    Becky shrugged. "Possibly. So, do you want to go? It

    can be on our way, if you like. Anywhere on earth is technically on our way
    with that machine."

    The Egyptian girl giggled. "If you say so, mistress."

    "We'll discuss what to do about it when we're done

    here in Rome," Becky assured her, smiling. "I've always wanted
    to visit a Roman bath, not to mention a few other locations;”

    The Baths of Trajan.

    Becky marveled as she looked around, sitting naked on the

    stone chair with a small cushion under her ass. Behind her, a young girl
    massaged her shoulders and relaxed her muscles before she began pouring water
    over Becky's body, washing the massage oils off her flawless skin. She then
    wiped down the tall, blonde woman with linen and took her hand to help her
    stand up, and then step down into the heated pool in front of her.

    "Is there anything else I can do for you, mistress?"

    the girl asked. Becky shook her head lazily and waved her away, but whispered
    for the girl to find her later, so that Becky could give her some money. The
    girl nodded and hurried off.

    She sighed and settled into the water, relaxing, her neck

    and head resting on the small cushion she'd brought. The water was hot, and
    there were not many visitors in the place just yet. They seemed to have picked
    a good time for a quiet visit. She looked around, noting that men and women
    conversed casually as they sat in the water, some of them getting rather
    intimate. Good.

    History had a lot of conflicting reports about Roman bath

    houses, and whether they allowed women at all, had segregated rooms for them to
    bathe in, or just kept the social setting as normal as possible. Clearly, it
    was a question of when one visited Rome.

    So what did that say about history books? Why weren't

    temporal travelers writing more of them? Accurate history reports would no
    doubt make life a lot easier. Maybe the convention was that people from the
    future weren't allowed to enlighten previous eras about things archaeology
    hadn't uncovered yet, to avoid time twists.

    She glanced over at Nanu, who was sitting in a stone chair

    next to her, receiving a massage from a young girl, and clearly enjoying it.
    She kept whispering to the girl, who giggled as she massaged her exotic
    visitor.

    Then the girl poured water over Nanu, cleaning her off, and

    rubbing her down with linen, asking if there was anything else she might do for
    her. Nanu had a sly smile on her face and a glint in her eye as she made to
    answer.

    "Nanu, would you join me, please?" Becky

    interrupted.

    Nanu and the girl both looked over at her, but then the

    Egyptian girl shrugged and dismissed her attendant. She clambered down into the
    hot water next to Becky and snuggled into her, sighing contentedly.

    "You wished to see me, Aurora?" she asked,

    remembering to address Becky as an equal in these circumstances, for her own
    safety.

    "Well, I'm always wishing to see you, Nanu, but I

    thought I had better break up what was about to happen with you and that girl,"
    Becky replied, putting an arm around her beloved friend.

    Nanu looked at her curiously. "She did not please

    you? I saw you send away your girl after her offer, I noticed. Were they not attractive?"

    Becky knew she had to explain this to Nanu carefully, and

    that it would take time. She'd be patient and indulgent. "It's not that
    they weren't attractive, Nanu, it's just that; the time Mark and I come from,
    one does not have those sorts of interactions and relations with young people
    under a certain age. It is considered immoral, and even criminal."

    Nanu considered. "That is strange to me. I had sex

    frequently when I was younger, and I mostly enjoyed it. True, my brother Bata
    abused my sister and I, but our age changed nothing about that."

    "I know, my love," Becky assured her,

    caressing her shoulder and looking at the ceiling.

    Nanu continued her reasoning. "Besides, those girls,

    they're slaves, like me. They have no rights, including to their bodies. If
    it's legal, how can it be immoral?"

    Becky smiled, knowing that educating Nanu in modern ethics

    was going to be at least as tough as teaching her what the heck time travel
    was. She'd take all the time Nanu needed. "The time and place Mark and
    I come from, children and young people are protected from adults using them for
    sexual purposes. It is a great ethical point in our society."

    Nanu made a wry face as she glanced at Becky. "But;

    adults are better at sex than younger people. Adults always made me cum harder
    than my age-mates. Why would I settle for less, even if I had a choice?"

    Becky closed her eyes, trying to answer succinctly and with

    reasonable fact, not just to blurt out 'because that's the way it is!'. After
    all, Nanu wasn't intruding on her world and lifestyle, was she? How
    could Becky explain that a society Nanu had no way of imagining was convinced
    that her own era was corrupt and simply wrong about sexuality?

    "And besides," Nanu reasoned, as if reading

    her mind. "You're here in my time, yes? Shouldn't you be beholden to my
    society's strictures?"

    Becky couldn't readily argue that point. She also had to

    admit, there were no doubt countless temporal travelers who went back in
    time specifically to take advantage of such ethics and codes of conduct, barred
    in their own era. She'd red about people from Germany in the Seventies and
    Eighties, mostly men, who would flay to southern Asia to legally have sex with
    young people or even children. They were called 'bumsenbombers', and
    eventually outlawed, but it was no doubt a lot harder to manage in the time
    stream.

    Becky looked around, wondering how many of the people

    sharing the bath house with them were time travelers and she didn't know it.
    These were the fabled Baths of Trajan, at the height of the Roman Empire. She
    and Mark couldn't be the only visitors in the place, could they?

    She remembered back to the two French girls she and Mark had

    fucked in the Sun King's France.

    There was no point in trying to impose her own morals on

    Nanu or anyone else while they were here. Forget 'shouldn't', Becky didn't even
    know if she could, since she might time lock herself. What then?

    She would simply have to follow her own moral code, and hope

    she was a good influence on Nanu.

    "Let's come to an agreement, then," the

    blonde woman suggested. "As long as we're here, the less I know about
    what you do, the better, okay?"

    Nanu nodded, looking up at her.

    "And when we get back to my time, I'll make sure

    you're prepared for our moral strictures, okay?"

    Nanu nodded again.

    Becky waited, looking down at the Egyptian girl before

    finally raising an eye. "Well? Aren't you going to go chase her down?"

    "You're so silly, mistress," Nanu purred in

    a whisper, so that only Becky could hear her. "I already told you,
    adults are so much better at fucking. Why would I want a scrap like that when I
    can have you?"

    "Quite possibly the most sensible and morally

    upright thing I've ever heard you say, Nanu!" Becky giggled as she
    pulled the smaller woman into her lap for a kiss.

    Behind the Atrium Vestae.

    Mark kept his head down as he carried a large sack of ground

    wheat on his back while walking through the back entrance or the ornate
    building. He was bringing up the rear of a conga-line of slaves who were
    shuttling supplies into the storage rooms of the house where the priestesses
    lived, and the two soldiers guarding the entrance took no notice of him.

    Mark wondered if he had a masochistic streak to him, since

    he was doing something absolutely insane, coming into the domicile of the
    Vestal Virgins, but he wanted to test a theory. A week ago, his personal time,
    he'd been convicted of disgracing one of the goddess Vesta's sacred virgins,
    and condemned to death fighting in the Colosseum. He'd survived, miraculously,
    but he also hankered for revenge, for a slight Rome hadn't even technically
    committed against him yet.

    Because the incident itself wasn't even supposed to occur

    until next week, local time.

    So if he knew he didn't get in trouble until next week, for

    unknowingly fucking a Vestal virgin, then he couldn't get in trouble and
    executed for doing it this week, right?

    Following that logic, and since he wasn't allowed into the

    Baths with Nanu and Becky because he was dressed as a slave, he'd gone off to
    find his own amusement. Not surprisingly, he wanted to stick it to Imperial
    Rome, so he intended to try and fuck another Vestal. Take that, Rome! Knowingly
    committing a crime before I didn't even know I'm doing it!

    Right?

    He dumped off his heavy sack in the storage room, and then began

    walking with the other slaves back toward the doors, bringing up the rear. At
    the last moment, he peeled off from the group and hid around a corner, making
    sure no one had noticed. Once he was sure, he began skulking around, making
    sure that he wasn't spied.

    He'd had some earnest conversations with Domitia before

    leaving her in Dabana, now a priestess of Nanaya, rather than Vesta. Between
    their heated fucking sessions, he'd found out about her life as a virgin of
    Vesta, and her house. She described the expansive facility in detail, and Mark
    felt confident in his knowledge of the layout. He'd need it to pull this off.

    He found some stairs that were seldom used, according to

    Domitia, and crept up from the basement level to the uppermost floor, where the
    virgins were housed. He reached under his arm and pressed his hand against the
    tiny patch in his armpit, which was pumping pheromones into his system. He was
    reasonably confident it was working, since he felt warmer than normal.

    It might have been nerves about potentially getting caught

    and executed, but then he reminded himself that he couldn't possibly get
    executed, because he hadn't committed next week's crime yet. So if anything
    went wrong, it was probably going to be some time lock he hadn't accounted for,
    and he'd get his ass clock hammered into the horizon.

    Welp, too late now.

    He reached the upper floor and slipped around a corner,

    noticing that the doors to each the personal chambers had names on them.
    Domitia had told him that the virgins spent a lot of time undisturbed in
    personal reflection when they were not performing their public duties to Rome,
    and they treasured their alone time.

    He also remembered her talking and giggling about the

    personalities of each of her fellow Virgins; from the stern and dutiful
    Concordia, who was about as much fun as a sack of wet dog hair, to the joyous
    and secretly impious Aemilia, Marcia, and Licinia, all of whom whispered about
    their desires when no one was around. Like Domitia (until next week), they were
    all virgins, but knew one another very well, and yearned to indulge
    their desires.

    A small wooden plaque on one door contained the name Aemilia.

    Bingo!

    He looked around to make sure no one had seen him, and then

    slipped inside the chambers, closing the door. He looked around at the
    sumptuous chamber, which he realized was a dressing room. He moved through it
    quickly, noting another room and darted inside.

    The bedroom. The bed and furnishings were simple and white,

    but soft and comfortable.

    Voices.

    Mark panicked and dashed into another room, finding out it

    was the bathing chamber. A large, white marble basin dominated the space, along
    with a small stone chair in the corner, with the hole in the middle. He looked
    around worriedly, and noticed several long linens hanging on pegs along the
    wall. Without another thought, he hurried over and hid behind them. He hoped.

    He now heard women talking, discussing various duties and

    even some giggling. Then the door to the room opened and closed. Someone was in
    the room with him now. He remained as still and quiet as possible, wondering
    what would actually happen if he was discovered.

    Did temporal constraints mean he couldn't be

    discovered? God, he hoped so. Why was he always thinking with his dick?

    He heard a sigh, and then someone entered the bathing

    chamber. The linens he was hiding behind concealed him (he hoped), but he could
    see between the long lengths of fabric to view quite a bit of the room. It
    wasn't long before he spied a young woman with honey-blonde hair and fair skin walking
    around. Unaware of his presence, she shed her ritual stola, revealing
    her body. It was pale and attractive, with small but pert tits, and a cute
    behind. He watched as she undid the seven braids in her hair, remembering that
    this hairstyle was one of the hallmarks of the Vestals.

    She walked over to the stone seat and sat down, sighing

    loudly as she peed. Mark could see her from the front now, and she did indeed
    seem to have a mischievous glint in her eye. Once she had finished, she stood
    and walked over to her marble bath, moaning in relief as she slipped into the
    steaming water, which came up to the level of her tits.

    The problem was, she was facing him now, keeping him stuck

    in place behind these damn linens. What the Hell was he supposed to do?

    The girl, whom he assumed was Aemilia, used her hands to

    cover her body in water, taking time to pour it over her tits, giggling as she
    caressed them occasionally. After some time, she also hummed as she reached
    down and began playing with herself. He stayed rooted to the spot in
    fascination as he watched her.

    Her head was craned back against the edge of her basin and

    she sighed blissfully as she fingered her cunt. Mark willed himself not to get
    hard. A few minutes later, she shivered and sighed again, obviously cumming.
    Her head fell forward, and she murmured to herself. Mark couldn't quite make
    out what she was saying.

    Then her head came up and her face gazed in his direction.

    He remained as still as possible, but slowly, her head tilted to one side in
    curiosity as she observed something.

    Was she smirking?

    "I can see your feet, you know;” she called out

    quietly.

     

    To be continued in part 10. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts, for Literotica.

    1 hr 16 min
  • The Time Riders: Part 8
    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 gave him access to these things, or gave
    him the money to buy them. In either case, if it had been legal, the little
    spore would have been bragging about it to their folks, and instead, he'd lied
    to them all. So it was something illegal.

    This was gonna be good, she thought. Having him

    squirm on a hook like this was almost giving her a tingle.

    Mark took a deep breath, not exactly sure what was about to

    leave his mouth. But he had to say something. If he kept stalling and
    wasting her time, he wouldn't put it by Roxy to call their parents up and make
    them a part of the conversation. Any good will and credit he'd gained with them
    over the last few months would be down the toilet instantly, no questions
    asked.

    It was now or never.

    "I; I own a time machine," he finally said,

    deflating and sighing. "I found it before school got out and figured out
    how to use it. It's called a Holmes Field Device, because Ashley Holmes, the
    younger brother of Sherlock, invented it. Anyway, I can use it to visit various
    eras, and that's how I've come across things like the Falernian wine. I; I
    actually have been to ancient Rome, and bought some to bring back. I can even
    show you where it's buried."

    Roxy stared at her brother dumbly. He kept talking, despite

    his fear.

    "I've; I've been to Seventeenth-century France,

    Imperial Rome, and a few other places on short hops. I trade things we think
    nothing of for currency specific to the era I wanna visit. Those spices? The
    ones that were so good? From Crete during the Minoan Era, although I didn't
    really stick around, it just got recommended to me."

    Roxy kept looking at him steadily.

    "I don't even know how it works, it's just a platform

    with a frame that's all dials and numbers and lights," he confessed,
    shrugging. "But it takes me not just through time, but it kinda goes
    against the rotation of the earth, so if I know coordinates, I can go to the
    places as well. Ya’ know, like longitude and latitude on dials, and shit. It's
    kinda difficult, really."

    The air hung heavy between them as Mark sighed again, apparently

    done talking. Roxy stared at him for several more seconds before getting up off
    the bed and walking slowly forward until she was standing over him. Mark looked
    up at his sister, while she gazed down at him, expressionless.

    Then her hand went back behind her head as if she was going

    to strike him. Mark squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting the inevitable Roxy slap.

    "You little brat," she hissed through clenched

    teeth, her hand still raised. "Do' you really think anyone is that
    stupid?"

    Mark opened one eye warily, glancing up at her. Roxy was

    almost shaking in restraint as she glared down at her younger brother. Why
    was she holding back?

    "I oughta knock your teeth out for treating me like an

    idiot," she growled, still wrestling with her fury. "Worse, I oughta
    call mom and dad up here and let them in on this bullshit of yours. Dad works
    for a forensics department, after all; I'm sure he can get to the bottom of
    this!"

    Their dad did work for a forensics department, didn't

    he?

    "So 'fess up, or you know what happens next!" she

    said in a dire voice.

    "Nope," Mark said now, folding his arms. "Not

    gonna happen."

    His sudden change in tone and demeanor gave Roxy pause. She

    blinked. "What?"

    "I said, no, Rox," he repeated, standing up now

    and forcing her to move back. "Maybe I'm tired of being bullied by you,
    every time you've got a bee up your ass about something. If you were doing
    better in your courses, you wouldn't have time to worry about this bullshit;
    you're just looking for something to take the pressure off you."

    Roxy's eyes blazed and her nostrils flared, but Mark held up

    a hand. "Ya’ might not wanna do that, Ronda Rousey."

    "Whyzzat?" she managed to say through clenched

    teeth.

    "Well," Mark said, walking around her and over to

    his bed, "because you wouldn't want mom and dad to find out about this;”

    Mark reached under his pillow and pulled out a small plastic

    bag, in which was sitting a colorful glass pipe. "Look familiar?"

    Roxy's eyes went wide, and she stopped dead. "How;”

    "Does it matter?" Mark replied simply.

    "It's; it not mine!" she said hastily, going pale.

    "Oh, I would hope not," Mark said, shrugging.

    "But dad would be able to tell for sure in no time, right? He works for a
    forensics lab, after all."

    "I don't keep it here, that should be at Danni's

    house!" Roxy protested, still losing the color in her face. "How the
    fuck did you get that? You fucking criminal! I'll’

    "You'll what?" he asked, dangling the bag.

    "Tell mom and dad? Go ask Danni how I got it? What possible scenario here
    could work out in your favor, Rox?"

    "It's; it's legal!" Roxy huffed, getting

    desperate.

    "Like mom and dad are gonna care!" Mark laughed.

    "Even if it is legal, you know damn well they'll assume it's one of the
    reasons your grades are taking a dive, and you'll be in such a world of hurt
    that any wrong I've done will look like a walk through a rose garden in
    comparison."

    Roxy said nothing, she just glared at him.

    "Well? What's it gonna be, sis?" he queried,

    looking at the little rainbow pipe. "Nice choice of bag, by the way, you
    can't smell a thing."

    Roxy's glare was nothing short of venomous. "What do

    you want?"

    "Simple," Mark answered, shrugging. "Leave me

    the fuck alone, and mind your own damn business for a change. Live your life,
    not like I care if you do this shit. But quit trying to make my life
    miserable."

    "If I do, you gonna give that back to me?" she

    asked, eying him, and then the baggie he held.

    "Not yet," he said, shaking his head. "I'll

    keep it for a little bit as insurance."

    "Give it to me!" she snarled, surging forward, her

    fist raised.

    "Uh-uh!" Mark said, holding up a finger.

    "Come any closer and I bellow. Guess who comes upstairs instantly?"

    Roxy stopped dead in her tracks, her whole body trembling

    with the effort of restraining herself.

    "Why is fucking me over such a big deal for you,

    Rox?" Mark asked, genuinely curious. "Is your life really so
    incomplete if I'm a little happy?"

    Roxy put down her fist and took a deep breath, her eyes

    closed. When she opened them, she was obviously in control, but she gave him a
    look that would wilt a rock.

    "Okay, little brother," she said quietly.

    "You've got a deal. I won't breathe a word of this to anyone. But just so
    you know, if the opportunity to expose whatever shit you're up to does
    present itself, you're going down like a two-dollar hooker."

    "I don't know what that's like," Mark replied,

    shrugging. "I'll assume you're the expert here."

    "Very funny," she sneered as she turned and walked

    rather stiffly toward the door. "And in the meantime, I'm gonna go and
    have a word with my dear friend Danni about how the Hell my bowl came to be in
    your possession;”

    To be continued in part 9. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts, for Literotica.

    1 hr 9 min
  • The Time Riders: Part 7
    The Time Riders: Part 7
    Becoming A Slave Owner.

    Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.



    Cast of Characters:

    Mark

    Simmons: 18 year old High School grad,
    enamored with Miss Becky Fischer. He finds the time machine and builds a new life.
    Uses various aliases in traveling.

    Rebecca

    'Becky' Fischer: Mark’s Physics teacher.
    Very intelligent, in her later twenties, Shapely Tall Blonde, lusty bisexual, D
    Cup tits. Martial arts expert, Uses various aliases in traveling.

    Henri: Claims to be a French physician and Apothicary.

    Chester

    Edgerton: Time traveling mentor, living
    in 17th Century French village.

    Cardinal

    Richelieu: ‘The Red Duke’. Statesman and
    Roman Catholic Cardinal. Dispises Queen Anne.

    Alexandra

    D'Assaut ('Alexa', or 'Lexi': Lady in
    waiting (and trusted advisor) to Queen Anne of France, Lusty bisexual, Very
    Tall, Busty DD tits, long golden blonde hair, Blue eyed.

    Lisette: servant (and lover) of Lady Alexandra, young, bespeckled

    brown eyes. Short, shapely, with wavy dark hair, bisexual.

    Dhallyla: Mark's mother.

    Roxy: Mark's sister.

    Nanu: An Egyptian slave of Pompeneia Flavius, purchased by

    Becky, dark complexion.

    Pompeneia: Roman hostess of Orgies. Lusty wife of Flavius, Mother

    of Domitia, bisexual, tall and shapely.

    Flavius:

    Roman aristocrat, husband of Pompeneia,
    protective father of Dometia,

    Domitia: Lusty young daughter of Pompeneia and Flavius. A

    pledged Vestal Virgin, Escapes to Sumeria when sentenced to death by starvation
    by Roman court.

    Pompeneia looked at Nanu and spoke to her somewhat tersely.

    "You are now owned by the Lady Aurora Horatia, who has purchased you at
    a fair price from me. Such belongings as you might have, girl, will be leaving
    with you when the Lady departs. Understood?"

    Nanu's eyes widened and she felt her heart suddenly pounding

    in her chest in shock and delight. Unable to contain her smile, she nodded
    eagerly.

    Pompeneia looked back at her guest and smiled. "She

    is all yours, my lady."

    Becky looked at Nanu and smirked, making a shooing motion

    with her hand. "Well, what are you waiting for, girl? Go find that
    lazybones Bonosus and tell him."

    Nanu was gone in a flash. Becky turned to look at Pompeneia

    and smiled wickedly as she leaned her back down on the couch and wiggled her
    way between Pompeneia’s hips, so that her mouth was at her hostess' cunt.

    "Now, how about I find another way to thank you for

    your generosity?" she purred as she began sliding her tongue along
    those sticky lips;

    Mark was wandering through the darkened rooms of the parts

    of the house not currently being used by the orgy, still looking for a damn
    lavatory. Why the Hell did the Romans have such fucked-up house layouts? He'd
    passed about ten servants' bedrooms already; was he just supposed to piss on
    one of them?

    He paused as he heard a quiet noise, one he recognized

    quickly as sighing. It had been coming from a room nearby, and it was
    definitely a girl's sigh.

    Or a really femmy boy slave. You couldn't guess in ancient

    Rome. Either way, he decided to investigate. He tiptoed forward, looking into
    various dark rooms he'd passed. He heard another sigh, and then something more
    akin to a moan. He smiled slyly, identifying the room it had finally come from.
    He crept up and peered around the open wooden doors to look inside;

    She had her back to him, but inside the dark chamber, which

    was obviously a bedroom, was a young woman, with her face seemingly pressed to
    the far wall, and squirming her hips beneath her expensive clothing and
    beginning to pant. She had voluminous brown hair worn up on her head, exposing
    a shapely neck, and her stola dress had ridden up high enough to expose
    her lush ass cheeks, which were quivering and squeezing while she fingered
    herself.

    Grinning, Mark leaned against the door frame and just

    watched quietly. He wasn't beyond a good show.

    A tiny point of light near her head finally showed Mark what

    she was doing; there was a small hole in the wall, big enough for her to see
    through, and she was clearly watching the orgy happening on the other side. She
    was also clearly having a great time getting off to it.

    He liked the sight of her, at least, what he could readily

    see; she had a great ass, a slender back and shapely legs. Her dark brown hair,
    worn in several braids, was just begging to be pulled on. He couldn't see her
    cunt from here, but he could definitely hear how wet she was.

    He quietly entered the room and glided up behind her. She

    smelled of iris and roses, a perfume he found thrilling, especially here in
    this dark room, both of them unseen by the scores of others in the villa. His
    cock, still hard and throbbing, couldn't wait to be buried deep inside her.

    He moved in close and pressed up against her, his rigid

    shaft sliding between her legs. She shuddered in shock and drew in a breath, as
    if she was about to scream; but he quickly and gently clamped his hand over her
    mouth and wrapped his other hand around her waist. Her moved his head next to
    her ear.

    "You don't need to scream or be frightened,"

    he whispered, feeling her still shaking. "I am the Lady Aurora's
    servant Bonosus, and I just want to be with you this day;”

    She turned her head, her eyes wide, as she tried to see him,

    his hand still loosely over her mouth. Her body was still stiff in possible
    panic, but she hadn't cried out yet. He smiled at her, trying to assure her he
    meant no harm.

    "If I let go of your mouth, will you scream?"

    he asked. The girl shook her head. For whatever reason, Mark believed her, and
    removed his hand from her mouth, and his arm from around her waist. She didn't
    run, but she threw herself against the wall she was standing next to, almost
    clutching at it as she turned around to face him. Her eyes were still wide, and
    he could see she was breathing heavily.

    "See? I'm not gonna hurt you," Mark said,

    smiling cheerfully.

    Staying pressed against the wall for safety, she looked him

    up and down slowly, noticing now that he was quite naked. Her eyes lingered on
    his erect cock for several seconds, as if captivated by it. He could now see
    her from the front, and what he was looking at pleased him; she had a pretty
    face, certainly. Not exotic, like Nanu, nor was she as striking and just plain
    gorgeous as Becky, but it was a pretty face nonetheless. Her eyes were brown,
    her cheekbones high, and her mouth sensual and full.

    The face; he knew it.

    Lady Pompeneia and Master Flavius! This must be their

    daughter.

    He continued looking at her body, noting now that her entire

    outfit was askew; not only had her dress been pushed up around her hips in
    front, to allow her to finger herself, but the top of her dress was pulled
    down, no doubt so that she could play with her pert tits. They were not large,
    but looked perfectly full on her slender frame, capped with brown aureoles and
    nipples, which were still hard. She had a tiny waist and womanly hips.

    He was going to enjoy fucking her.

    "My name is Bonosus, like I said," he

    repeated, moving in a tiny bit closer to her. She didn't try to escape, but
    perhaps flattened herself a little more against the wall. He tried not to seem so
    forceful. And odd thing, since he was at an orgy, and was already used to just
    fucking whomever he liked. "Would you tell me your name?"

    She finally spoke, her voice low and quiet. "My name

    is Domitia. I am the daughter of your hosts, the Master and Mistress Flavius."

    "I am very happy to meet you, Domitia," he

    said, smiling and nodding. In his ear, he could hear the implant translate her
    name as 'she who is tamed'. He suddenly had a very good feeling about this
    encounter. "In the name of my mistress' goddess, Feronia, I would ask
    you to join me in making love."

    "You; you are kind, Bonosus," she

    stammered, her face pale, but a flush in her cheeks. Her eyes were no longer
    wide, but turning glassy. "But I must; I shouldn't;”

    "I thought today was a day where all people cast

    aside their inhibitions, and did exactly as they pleased," he
    reasoned, stepping a little closer, noticing that she did not attempt to move
    away from him. "I already saw you looking through that hole there;”

    Now Domitia blushed furiously, turning her head to look at

    the ground. "I am ashamed; I should not; I shouldn't have been;”

    "What were you looking at, anyway?" he

    queried, pressing himself against her, his cock now flat against her belly,
    separated from her skin only by the fine material of her stola. She
    shivered as she felt his cock press to her, and her hands reached up and
    flexed, without touching him. Leaning over her shoulder, her wondrous scent in
    his nostrils, he closed one eye and peered through the tiny hole in the ochre-painted
    wall.

    He smiled slyly as he could see that the hole looked out on

    the palaestra, the courtyard in which he and Becky (and several others)
    had been fucking earlier. Even now, he could see a man bending a slave girl
    over in the shallow pool and fucking her from behind, while two women beyond
    the pool were lying opposite each other, legs scissored and slithering their
    pussies together. One of them was sucking on the cock of a slave who leaned
    over her, moaning and fondling her tits.

    "Well, you were enjoying yourself, clearly,"

    Mark mused, turning and smirking at her. She looked at him, trying to smile
    back, but then just blushing and looking at the ground again. At least she
    wasn't trying to leave anymore. "Would you like to watch through the
    hole again while I fuck you from behind?"

    Something in his suggestion made her tense very suddenly,

    and she looked at him again, her eyes now wide. "I; shouldn't; no, my
    parents must not know I'm here, they; I should return to my domicile."

    "Are you married?" he asked, thinking that

    even if she was, she had showed up at her parents' orgy and was making herself
    cum, even if she'd been hiding. Marriage didn't seem to be a barrier during an
    orgy, near as he could tell. By his count, he'd already fucked at least four married
    patrician women and three plebeian women today.

    "Yes! No! I;” she stammered, blushing again and

    closing her eyes. Against her will, she inhaled deeply, taking in his raw,
    animal scent. Gods, he smelled divinely of sexuality, of carnality, of; heated
    fucking. It made her instantly wet, and her body trembled in need. "I
    cannot;”

    He smiled slyly and could tell that she wanted to stay. Even

    though she was protesting, he could already feel her hips pressing forward,
    squirming against him, desperate to finish what she was started when she was
    alone. She wanted to cum with him.

    "Then don't say anything," he whispered to

    her, his hands on her hips now. She shuddered again, her eyes wide and glassy
    as she gazed up at him. "Let me take care of this for you, Domitia;”

    He couldn't be sure, but the thought she nodded almost

    imperceptibly. Her felt her tits press forward against him.

    Her name means 'She who is tamed';

    He took both her wrists in one hand and lifted them, pinning

    them against the wall over her head. She gasped and shivered, seemingly cowed
    by his superior strength. Her hips squirmed against him again, her tits heaving
    as she almost began to pant. Her eyes were flashing now, and he could see lust
    in them, almost as if it was forbidden and impure. He would give her what she
    wanted, that was certain.

    Domitia sucked in her breath as he put his free hand on her

    tit and fondled her, the soft skin yielding before his touch, his palm brushing
    over the hard nipple. Domitia bit her lip as she tried to remain quiet, her
    whole body trembling with a need for release.

    Mark caressed her other tit as well, pinching the nipple and

    pulling on it gently, making the brown-haired girl whimper and squeeze her eyes
    shut.

    "No; uh;” she gasped.

    His hand now found her waist and undid the cotton strip that

    belted the stola, letting it fall away. Domitia was breathing heavily
    now, especially when he began to pull her dress down, revealing more and more
    of her body. She gasped loudly as she felt his hard cock pressed against her
    belly now. She pushed her tits against his chest, squirming with urgency. Her
    protests made less and less sense by the moment, although he surmised it was
    just for show. Girls did that sometimes. At least, that's what Becky and other
    girls he'd fucked had told him. Domitia seemed to be no exception.

    Her stola now pooled around her ankles, revealing her

    body. The one flickering brazier in the corner of the room revealed that he had
    seen correctly; she had a lovely body. Not an erotic fantasy like Becky's,
    which was the product of the modern era of vitamins, yogurt, quinoa, hemp seeds
    and CrossFit, but still lush and attractive, and currently given to a
    deep-seated lust he wanted to fulfill.

    Her eyes were flashing as they stared up into his, her tits

    heaving. She bared her teeth as he reached down and cupped her cunt, which was
    now dripping wet. His finger slid up and down her length, finding her clit and
    eliciting a gasp. Her hands, still pinned above her head, flexed compulsively.
    She was breathing heavily now.

    "Keep your arms above your head,"

    Mark said firmly as he released them and brought his hand down, both of them
    reaching behind her and taking hold of her ass cheeks. Domitia almost hissed as
    he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. She had
    readily obeyed, and kept her arms over her head, as if they were still pinned
    there. Her submission to him seemed very real and complete.

    Looking into her eyes, he held her steady, leaning her back

    against the wall while one of his hands guided his cock to her wet entrance.
    One he felt the engorged tip nestle against her lips, he placed his hand back
    on her ass cheek and began to push;

    Domitia breathed deeply as he penetrated, but then shook and

    whimpered as he encountered a barrier. Mark paused, but then felt her push her
    hips against him, and proceeded to lean forward against the wall. She shook and
    cried out, and Mark suddenly slipped deep inside her warmth easily.

    Holy shit, she'd been a virgin; awesome!

    She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her

    face against his neck, trembling almost uncontrollably. Seconds later, she
    lifted her face and look up at him, her eyes glassy. Whatever pain she'd been
    feeling was clearly gone, now. He could, on the other hand, feel a single, warm
    trickle of a fluid down the underside of his cock, and the air smelled slightly
    of pennies now.

    "You have made me a woman," she murmured,

    still staring at him. "Let us finish this wondrous coupling now. Fuck
    me, Bonosus, servant of Lady Horatia;”

    She put her arms back above her head again, her wrists

    crossed, as a sign of his power over her. Mark nodded and began pumping slowly,
    sliding his cock in and out of her. Domitia trembled again, at the feel of him inside
    her, hard and throbbing, her cunt squeezing around him. She sighed loudly, eyes
    still locked with his.

    "A girl could die this way, and happily;” she

    breathed, squirming her tits against his chest. It was a bit of a strange thing
    to say, he thought, maybe a little morbid, but teen girls were like that
    sometimes, with the weird, poetic drama. He'd fucked a goth chick once, and she
    was;

    Domitia grunted and began pumping back against him lustily,

    all her fears of their fucking obviously gone. She was hissing through her
    teeth, grinding her hips against him as he made a sawing motion with his,
    pushing deep inside her wanton cunt. He could feel her cunt tightening around
    him as she found their rhythm, slippery and getting wetter by the moment.

    She jammed her lips against his and kissed him feverishly,

    their tongues wrestling between their mouths. He held her tighter, thumping her
    against the wall each time he thrust his cock deep inside her. She moaned into
    his mouth, and her warm skin was getting damp with sweat as he took her. She
    might have been a virgin mere moments ago, but her carnal desires would not be
    denied anymore. Domitia pushed back for all she was worth, her arms finally
    coming down and gripping his back.

    They were still kissing in a frenzy, and Mark was breathing

    through his nose, his hips smacking against hers. Domitia panted and moaned
    into his mouth with each thrust, her fingernails raking his back as she fought
    to get him ever deeper inside her. Her need almost baffled him, because he could
    feel the head of his cock battering her cervix each time he drove home.
    The wet sucking sounds her cunt made filled the room, even over the sounds of
    their groans.

    Mark was growing warm now, and he could feel that the sex

    tabs he'd used had already replenished his cum, deep inside his balls. When he
    did bust, this girl's first experience would see her overflowing with cum, his
    cum, and it would be glorious. He wanted to bring her out of hiding and over to
    the orgy. He wanted to fuck her at the same time as he fucked Becky and Nanu.

    Domitia seized up suddenly, shaking around him and screaming

    into his mouth while her cunt clenched him ferociously. He kissed her hard,
    making sure she didn't alert the whole house, and fucked her harder than ever,
    making her wail into his mouth again. He could feel his own body heating up
    rapidly, the distinct, tingling boiling in his balls letting him now that
    orgasm was now unstoppable.

    Mark pulled her hard against him, pressing into her as far

    as he could, straining and arching his back.

    The floodgates burst and he began filling Domitia with his

    pearly cum, and she panted and almost growled at the release. She churned and
    writhed on his cock, her frothy essence smearing his entire groin. He felt the
    peristaltic motions of his inner muscles, spurting his cum up his cock and deep
    inside his lover, a glorious, blessed release.

    Best. Orgy. Ever.

    He sagged against her, breathing heavily, while Domitia went

    limp in his grip, sighing in deep pleasure. She was no longer raking her
    fingernails over his back but caressing it gently, almost reverently. It was
    kind of backwards, since he was supposedly a slave and she was a patrician's
    daughter, but what the hey, she was a total subbie, right?

    She purred as she kissed his damp skin, still undulating her

    hips against him and squeezing his cock gently with her gooey cunt. He held her
    close, his forehead against her neck while he tried to regain his breath. This
    orgy was barely half over. There was so much to;

    The screech from behind them froze his blood instantly. He

    went rigid for several moments, before his head snapped around and he looked to
    see who was in the doorway.

    Gazing at the entwined pair in astonishment, bordering on

    horror, was Nanu. Still quite naked, her face was frozen in shock, her mouth
    working soundlessly. Confusion engulfed him, wondering what had caused the
    slave-girl to have such a caustic reaction to what she'd seen. Was it jealousy?
    It couldn't be that; she'd watched him fuck plenty of other women today.

    He looked back at Domitia, and saw that she had frozen as

    well, pale with what could only be described as terror about their discovery.
    That confused him too. What the Hell was happening here?

    Endless feet seemed to come stampeding toward them, and

    cries of shock now echoed through the house. Master Flavius surged through the
    door and stopped dead, his eyes wide as dinner plates.

    "Domitia!" he said in a quavering voice,

    pointing a trembling finger at the duo. "What are you;"

    Lady Pompeneia, accompanied by Becky, now bustled into the

    room. The matron stopped dead upon seeing them, her body shaking. Becky's eyes
    went wide.

    "Oh, shit;” she muttered in English.

    "Father!" Domitia called out, still impaled

    on Mark's cock, but looking over his shoulder at her parents. "Mother,
    I;”

    She made to move, but Mark's tool shifted inside her, and

    she gasped in pleasure and began wriggling furiously, fucking him again despite
    their ever-growing audience. People cried out in shock, and Lady Pompeneia's
    eyes rolled into her head before she fell to the floor in a dead faint. The
    cacophony grew, with Mark staring in confusion and Domitia grunting like an
    animal as she fucked her way to ecstasy again, seemingly unable to stop.

    A patrician woman entered and shrieked, scandalized by what

    she saw.

    "The slave!" she called out, aghast. "He

    has defiled one of Vesta's Virgins!"

    As if in response, Domitia shook and arched her back,

    wailing loudly as she came.

    "Seize that man!" shouted Flavius, his face

    purple with fury. Free men and slaves both surged forward, grappling onto Mark
    and trying to yank him away. But Domitia would not be pried off him, howling in
    protest and still grinding herself madly on his cock, squealing through another
    orgasm, even as they led the pair away. Most of the crowd followed them out,
    still clamoring loudly. Some women helped the swooning Pompeneia to her feet,
    and led her out of the room. Soon, the only people left were Becky and Nanu,
    who stood in the doorway. The slave-girl stared at her new mistress, who shrugged
    rather helplessly.

    Nanu turned and followed the crowd, leaving Becky alone in

    the room. It was eerily quiet now, the noise of the crazed crowd getting
    increasingly distant; people yelling in outrage, punctuated by the distinct
    sounds of Domitia cumming yet again, loudly.

    Becky finally hung her head for a moment, shaking it and

    smiling.

    "Oh, I can't wait to see how this turns out;”

    she said to herself as she walked out the door.

    The Wrath of Rome

    The mightiest city in the world, lord of Europa, teeming

    with untold citizens, slaves and foreigners. Blessed by Jupiter, greatest of
    the gods, and fed by the ancient Tiber River, Rome stood glorious and
    invincible, crowned with seven hills like jewels.

    Not that Mark could see any of that from his tiny, stinky

    little prison cell.

    He sat on the dirty floor, sighing despondently as he looked

    through the iron bars that separated him from the rest of the world. He'd found
    a corner that was not sticky with the effluences of previous inhabitants of the
    cell, crouching up with his knees to his chest. He suspected that the tab he
    was wearing would protect him from disease and sickness, but he'd be damned if
    he was taking any chances.

    He heard grunting and groaning from the cells behind him,

    then an absolutely disgusting series of splattering noises as someone began
    crapping themselves messily. He wrinkled his nose in revulsion and stared along
    the bottom of the wall, making sure nothing was likely to seep through.

    He turned his head and stared blankly across the small

    hallway at the cell opposite. Out of the darkness, a deranged, naked man
    appeared, his wild, scraggly beard greying and caked with God-knows-what. He
    cackled at Mark and helicoptered his cock at the new prisoner, all the while
    trying to shake the bars of his cell.

    Mark shook his head and looked away, finding a spot on the

    wall to stare at. He noted some graffiti, in Latin, brown with age; it was
    either dried blood or shit, but he decided he didn't care enough about what it
    said to get closer.

    He'd taken off the ratty tunic they'd given him, because it

    stank and had things crawling in it. Since he'd been arrested and dragged off
    naked from the Flavius villa, with Domitia still impaled on him, they'd eventually
    attempted to cover him up; somewhat difficult, since he was suffering from what
    was essentially medically induced priapism.

    Even now, he gazed down between his legs, noticing that his

    cock was still rock-hard. Had the tab malfunctioned? Was he supposed to stay
    erect this long? What the Hell kind of sex were they having in the
    twenty-eighth century that a guy needed to stay hard for a day and a night?

    He closed his eyes and pressed his head against his

    forearms, trying to figure out how it had all gone wrong; how the Hell was he
    supposed to know that there was a Vestal Virgin hiding in the damn house and
    masturbating?

    He'd heard of Vestal Virgins, of course, but he knew nothing

    about them. He'd paid attention in History class only moderately more than he
    had in Physics. Seemingly, he'd done an incredibly bad thing. Like 'fucking a
    pastor's blind virgin daughter on the altar' kind of bad. As decadent as Rome
    might have been, you didn't mess with their Vestals.

    He wished Becky was here. He hadn't seen her since he'd been

    dragged away from the villa, and he hoped she was okay. He had no idea if she
    was going to be in trouble or not, since she was supposed to be his owner.

    He groaned and shook his head, wishing he'd just wake up and

    this was all a dream; “Damn!”

    "Shut up in there!" said one guard harshly

    as he walked by.

    "Gonna make me, tough guy?" Mark grumbled,

    once the chip in his head had translated what the guard said, even though he
    could've probably figured it out on his own.

    The guard whirled around and stuck his arm through the bars,

    trying to hit Mark with the cudgel he was carrying. Mark hurriedly dodged out
    of the way and grabbed the club from the man's hand; the guard's eyes widened
    as Mark glared down at him, much taller than his would-be assailant. Mark was
    just over six feet, while the Roman was maybe five-three.

    The man's gaze dropped to Mark's erection, which pointed at

    him angrily.

    "Listen, pal," Mark growled, beyond caring

    about his hard-on at this point. "Try that again, and I'll shove this
    club of yours so far up your ass that you'll have splinters in your tongue for
    a month. Got it?"

    The man nodded hastily, his face pale.

    "Good," Mark grunted, shoving the cudgel

    bac through the bars at him. "Now fuck off and leave me alone."

    The guard hurried away while the crazy guy across from Mark

    cackled again and babbled incoherently at his retreating form. Mark slumped
    back down and continued moping. He'd been in this little crap-hole for the best
    part of a day now, without food or a chance to relieve himself, unless he chose
    to piss on the floor. He felt rather justified in sulking. Several minutes
    passed before he was interrupted once again.

    "Well, you look pretty grumpy for someone who spent

    most of yesterday getting laid;” chimed a sweet voice.

    Mark's eyes flicked open and he stood up hastily, gawking at

    his Physics teacher, who stood outside his cell, smiling at him in amusement.

    "Becks!" he said hastily, wiping at himself as if

    he had clothes on, forgetting that he was naked. "Hi! Uh; I'm glad you're
    okay!"

    "It's good to see you too, handsome," she replied,

    her eyes trailing down to his erection. She was wearing the elegant stola
    and accoutrements of a patrician woman now, much more modest than her attire
    just the day before. "Guess your hormones haven't worn off yet, hmm?"

    "Oh, he's got a mind of his own," Mark muttered,

    blushing slightly. "Trust me, the lynch mob was quite a libidoectomy.
    Where've you been?"

    "Well, once you got carted off, I thought I'd better

    take a look into what was likely to happen to everyone involved," she
    stated, seemingly not that concerned. "Roman litigation is a weird thing.
    They have trials, and you'll have a lawyer appointed to you, but the court of
    public opinion really counts as well, it seems."

    "So, I really screwed up when I fucked one of their

    Vestal Virgins?" Mark asked, trying not to sweat.

    Becky smiled. "Mark, you had no way of knowing, because

    she never should have been there to begin with. Vestal Virgins don't, in
    theory, belong to their parents any more, after they're selected for the honor.
    For her to be hiding in a room in her parents' house, jilling off, is a huge
    breach of her vows already, never mind getting caught with you bruising her
    brainstem."

    Mark thought about that for a moment. "So; Domitia's in

    trouble too?"

    "She's in even more trouble than you, to be

    honest," replied the teacher, shrugging. "You, you're some shmuck
    slave who got lucky. Her, she broke Rome's most sacred vows. She might as well have
    squatted over and peed on the Sacred Flame they protect, to extinguish it.
    Everyone associates the Vestals with the spiritual well-being of Rome itself.
    If one of the Virgins is impure, it's bad for Rome."

    "Damn;” he said under his breath, frowning at the

    floor. "Well, what about you? Are you in shit at all, because you're my
    owner?"

    "Well, not so far," Becky mused. "I'm sure

    that can change at a moment's notice, if anything goes really wrong."

    "Really wrong?" Mark exclaimed, gesturing to the

    cell around him in exasperation. "If this is only moderately wrong, I'd
    hate to see what’s really wrong you're going on about!"

    "Oh, don't be such a drama llama," she cooed,

    waving dismissively. "We'll figure this out."

    "Are you okay, Becks?" he asked, making a wry face

    as he looked at her. "Last time we were in trouble like this, you kinda
    She-Hulked out on everyone, remember? You kicked at least five people in the
    crotch, one of whom was Cardinal Richelieu."

    "Yeah," she said almost wistfully. "I think

    my system is flooded with hormones from those tabs, and they're making me
    pretty mellow. I'm still in love with you right now, for instance."

    "Well, not to exploit your chemical imbalance here, but

    what are the chances of you doing something to make sure the man you're in love
    with doesn't die in this cell?" Mark said rather insistently.

    "Oh, you won't die in this cell," Becky pointed

    out. "The Romans weren't big on imprisonment at this point in their
    history. They're probably either gonna behead you or crucify you."

    "Becks!" Mark said loudly, going pale and

    beginning to panic. "You can't let them behead me, I like my head where it
    is!"

    "Yes, you are rather attached to it," she giggled.

    "And don't worry about getting crucified, only I'm allowed to nail you, after
    all. And speaking of;”

    She slinked forward, smiling saucily at him, lifting the hem

    of her long stola, revealing her wet cunt beneath. She turned around,
    presenting her shapely ass to him and swaying it back and forth while looking
    over her shoulder at him.

    "How about you put that stout nail of yours in my tool

    box?" she purred.

    "Now?" he exclaimed.

    "Not like you have anything else to do at the moment,

    Mark," she pointed out, still wiggling at him. "Move up to the bars
    and stick it out here;”

    Ignoring his exasperation, Mark sighed and pressed himself

    up against the bards, his rigid cock sticking out the other side. Becky lined
    up her sticky cunt with the head and pushed herself back on it, sighing in
    bliss as she did. Mark trembled as he penetrated her, having to admit to
    himself that it felt good to be inside his teacher.

    Becky closed her eyes as began squirming back against him,

    sliding his hardness in and out of her cunt. Eighteen hours without sex had
    felt like eighteen years, no doubt due to the hormones from the tabs. She
    guessed that their bodies, new to these stimulants from the far future, were
    not acclimated to the effects just yet; not that she was complaining, mind. She
    groped and massaged her tits as they spilled out of the top of her stola,
    reveling in the feel of Mark's lovely cock splitting her wide and touching deep
    inside.

    She stood up and pressed back against the bars, keeping his

    manhood firmly locked inside herself, wiggling and swaying, but also bringing
    his hands around to her tits, which he now squeezed and massaged in circles,
    making her groan loudly. The bars kept them apart somewhat, but he was still
    deep inside her, and that was what counted.

    Until she opened her eyes and saw the crazy guy in the cell

    across from them, looking at her with wild eyes, his tongue lolling out of his
    head, and jerking his filthy cock madly.

    "I miss seeing your face, Mark," she decided,

    turning around suddenly and pressing close to him again. She made him hold the
    bars, steadying his throbbing cock while she sidled forward, taking him inside
    her cunt again, sucking in her breath. She held onto the bars as well,
    squirming her hips. The bars were too closely spaced together to fit her legs
    through and wrap them around his hips, but he was still deep enough inside her
    to fuck her properly.

    "Hmm, baby;”

    If any guards knew what was happening, they chose to not

    interfere or even be nearby. They left the wealthy patrician woman alone. Of
    all the places Mark had expected to fuck Becky during their temporal travels,
    this would have been one of the last, he had to admit.

    Becky pushed her lips against his, kissing him deeply and

    lovingly. Their tongues tangled as she fucked him, exhilarating in the feel of
    his hard shaft in her and knowing she was going to cum quickly, and hard. She
    broke the kiss and stared into his eyes, her own flashing with lust.

    "You gonna cum in me, Mark?" she breathed,

    grinding on him hard, biting her bottom lip. "I want your cum in me,
    baby."

    He nodded, breathing heavily. He'd practically forgotten

    about his predicament, lost in the delirium of fucking his teacher. He pumped
    his hips back and forth in time with her movements, her cunt tightening around
    him and getting wetter with every second. He felt his cock throbbing and swelling
    inside her.

    "Yes, baby," she gasped, her skin flushed pink,

    her body trembling as she fought to hold on a few moments longer. "Cum
    deep inside me, Mark; oh God;”

    Becky clenched her teeth and arched her back as she pushed

    forward with her hips, straining hard; she felt Mark push against her as hard
    as he could, touching her cervix, and she shuddered and moaned loudly. The dam
    burst and he began cumming inside her, flooding her cunt with his desire. Becky
    shivered in pleasure, squeezing around him.

    They both sighed as the orgasm finally passed, leaning

    forward and pressing their foreheads together. Her fingers knotted with his and
    she gave him a peck on the lips before smiling.

    "Feel better?" she asked.

    "Oddly enough, yeah," he admitted, nodding. "So

    what do we do now? I don't wanna die here, Becks."

    "I know, don't worry, we'll figure it out," she

    replied, caressing his face with one hand while lowering the skirt of her stola
    with the other. "I've just gotta find out some things."

    "Can't we just bust me outta here and get out of

    Dodge?" he asked, not sure what the delay was.

    She gave him a quirky look. "Are we just supposed to

    leave Domitia to her fate? It's your fault she's doomed to death, you know. And
    there's also the matter of Nanu and what to do with her. We can't just prance
    around the timeline and mess up things with peoples' lives, Mark. I know you do
    it because you want to get laid, but there's still real consequences. You're
    living one of them."

    He sighed: "Yeah, you're right. I'm just worried."

    "I know you are, my love," she said gently,

    smiling warmly. "Just let me see what I can find out. Hang tight and stay
    out of trouble, okay?"

    She kissed him again lovingly and whispered something in his

    ear before sauntering out. He watched her leave and then sat back down, trying
    to ignore the fact that his hard-on was now sticky, on top of everything else.
    Getting shot by Richelieu may be have been ultimately worse, but this
    predicament was certainly less convenient. Some hours passed, and his mood
    decidedly did not improve.

    "Hello, my name is Faustus, and I am your legal

    representation during your trial," said a dull voice from beyond his
    cell. Mark's eyes drifted over to lay on a short, pudgy, balding man draped in
    a rather worn toga. He had some scrolls in a satchel he wore over his shoulder.
    He assessed Mark somewhat disinterestedly. "You are the slave Bonosus,
    yes?"

    Mark nodded.

    "And you are aware of the charges against you?"

    "Yup, I unknowingly boned a Vestal Virgin,"

    Mark sighed, standing up, figuring he probably shouldn't be showing anyone any
    disrespect at this point. "What can I do for you, sir?"

    "Well, ignorance of the law is not likely to work as

    a defense in this particular instance, given the charge," Faustus
    said, tapping his satchel with his fingers. "Normally it might mitigate
    charges, but not where the Virgins are involved. At this point, I'm trying to
    spare you a cruel and painful death."

    "Swell," Mark said, his voice laden with

    apathy. "So, like, beheading instead of crucifixion sort of thing?"

    "Unless crucifixion is your preference, for some

    strange reason," replied the lawyer. "There is also the matter
    of your fee for my services in defending you?"

    Mark frowned: "I'm a slave, what am I supposed to be

    able to give you? Shouldn't you be talking to my owner, the Lady Aurora?"

    "The lady is proving difficult to contact, what with

    the entire city being in an uproar about you and all," Faustus
    reasoned, shrugging. "It may be up to you to see that my fees are met."

    "I don't have anything!" Mark protested

    somewhat angrily.

    Faustus trailed his gaze down Mark's well-built body,

    finally fixating on his erect cock and smiling lewdly. "Oh, I wouldn't
    say that;”

    Mark groaned and thunked his head against the iron bar that prevented

    his escape. He was wrong. This was worse than getting killed by
    Richelieu's men.

    Trial of Mark.

    Mark now found himself going through downtown Rome, but once

    again spending little time looking at the city; he was being hauled inside a
    cage on wheels along the Via Aurelia, with untold thousands of people
    lining the road, shouting, screaming and hissing at him. Rotten vegetables and
    rock-hard bread pelted his mobile prison, most of the projectiles not getting
    through to touch him. Mark didn't care. He stared out dully at the cacophony
    and churning masses of humanity, fully aware that his erect cock was pointing
    at them.

    He looked at the famed Palatine Hill and saw a large, rotund

    temple there, along with a vast manor. Outside the manor, standing on those
    distant steps, he saw many women dressed as Domitia had been, with their hair
    worn in the same style, staring down at him impassively. He almost laughed
    bitterly, knowing exactly who they are. No young person, ever, understood
    better than Mark now how important it was to pay attention to your studies.
    After all, it was about to cost him his head.

    His eyes widened when he saw Domitia dragged out the front

    doors of the manor by several servants and forced to look down at him. She
    seemed none the worse for wear, except for looking rather distraught and
    haggard. He saw, but could not hear her cry out at the sight of him, before
    being yanked back inside roughly, resisting the whole way.

    His lawyer, Faustus, had informed him that he'd be tried in

    a public court, his sentence determined there as well. If all went well, he
    wouldn't be made to wait long before his sentence was carried out. The waiting
    was the worst part, the lawyer assured him.

    The procession took forever, at least in his estimation. He

    was covered in tomato pulp and seeds, and bits of lettuce and other debris were
    sticking to him.

    "Will they at least allow me to bathe or clean up

    before my trial?" he'd complained to Faustus. He stank and he didn't
    like it. The lawyer said he'd see what he could do. On and on, his mobile
    prison rumbled slowly.

    They entered a crowded forum, surrounded by the white

    buildings Rome was renowned for. He saw several landmarks, but barely noted
    them. The presence of soldiers became heavier now, guarding against disturbances
    from the famously fickle and moody population of the city. They arrived at the
    courthouse, and he was hauled out of his cage by the chains his wrists were
    bound in. He ignored the cries and vitriol of the crowd, who had stopped
    throwing things, for fear of hitting a soldier or important person. At least
    there was that.

    He was brought into a small anteroom, where a pool sat in

    the center. He was unchained and shoved into it, allowed to bathe. Several
    Roman legionaries stood over him, one holding a whip in case Mark dawdled for
    any reason. Careful not to anger them, Mark cleaned himself diligently, but
    also as quickly as possible. When he got out of the pool, they dressed him in a
    plain but fresh tunic made of low-grade linen. There was one rather prominent
    problem, however, and the commander of the squad guarding him looked at Mark's
    crotch and scowled.

    "Does that thing ever go down?" he snapped.

    "Look, you're not as unhappy as I am about it,"

    Mark shot back, exasperated about his condition. "Believe me! I
    had too many oysters at the orgy and now it won't go away."

    The commander thought about the predicament for a moment. He

    couldn't bring his prisoner into the courtroom sporting an erection. He finally
    ordered one of his men to tie a strap of linen around Mark's hips, keeping the
    obscene erection fixed flat against his belly. The legionaries chuckled as he
    was trussed, but then became serious as they prepared to lead him into the
    courtroom.

    Mark took a deep breath as he was led into the chamber that

    would determine his doom.

    Becky was squatting in a hallway, humming quietly as she

    sucked on the cock of a young lad who was running documents back and forth
    within the courthouse. He was pressed back against the wall, his eyes closed
    and moaning in pleasure as he let her work her magic. He didn't know exactly
    who this patrician woman was, but he wasn't about to stop her, either.

    Becky bobbed back and forth, swirling her tongue around his

    hardness and gently caressing his balls. She couldn't believe how horny she
    was! It had been more than twenty-four hours since the orgy and these sex
    stimulants were still wreaking havoc with her libido. If this kid lasted, maybe
    she could fuck him? She needed a good orgasm.

    A horn sounded outside the courthouse, and Becky paused

    mid-suck, opening her eyes and turning her head slightly to look in the
    direction of the noise, her cheek bulging comically as his cockhead pushed into
    it. The young man was still trembling and almost whimpering, even though she
    was distracted.

    "Damn, is it time for the trial already?" she

    exclaimed to herself before she stood up, straightened out her elegant stola
    and hurried down the hallway. The young paralegal gaped at her retreating form,
    his body trembling and his cock throbbing.

    "But I; I;” he protested, even though she was

    gone.

    He couldn't stop it. He whimpered and danced about on his

    toes, cum spurting from his aching cock. He grabbed his crotch and sighed
    deeply, doubling over at the release. Too late, he opened his eyes and noticed
    he'd spattered his jizz all over the documents he'd been bringing for the
    trial;

    "The accused is named Bonosus, a slave owned by Lady

    Aurora Horatia," announced one of the scribes in the room, a rotund
    chamber that had benches lining most of the walls, allowing for spectators.
    Today it was crowded, because the charges were so extraordinary. "Prior
    to this trial, the lady Horatia has been determined free of all guilt, with no
    investigation or charges needing to be brought forward."

    Becky, sitting near the trial stand, smiled and winked at

    the presiding praetor judge, an older, distinguished man, who subtly
    winked back at her before turning his attention back to Mark, staring sternly.
    Mark stood alone in the center of the rotunda, his hands and feet manacled, a
    single beam of wan light shining down on him from a hole in the center of the
    domed ceiling. He looked back at the judge blankly.

    "The accused is charged with disgracing a sacred

    virgin of the goddess, potentially putting great Rome in her disfavor, and such
    charges warrant only the ultimate of punishments, your honor!"
    declared a man in a well-embroidered toga made of exquisite fabric and trimmed
    in yellow. Mark assumed this was the lawyer meant to prosecute him. "For
    this heinous crime, Rome must be cleansed, to appear cleansed in the eyes of
    Vesta! We demand this Bonosus be burned at the stake!"

    Mark swallowed and looked at Faustus, who was sweating and

    wiping at his collarbone, trying not to fidget. People around the room were
    talking and whispering to one another. The judge looked down at the pudgy
    lawyer. "What say you on behalf of the accused,
    man?"

    "I;” he began, already faltering. "Your

    Honor, we feel that the defendant, being a mere slave ignorant of all law and
    education, had no way of knowing that he was indeed in contact with one of
    Rome's sacred girls. In that light, while we do not protest his guilt, we ask
    for clemency; lashes, if possible, or exile beyond the Empire's borders; but if
    he must die for this crime, let Great Rome show its much-famed mercy and give
    my client a swift beheading."

    People in the gallery began shouting angrily in protest at

    his words, while many of the advocates and adjudicates involved in the case
    began laughing derisively. Nobody seemed to be in Faustus' corner about this.
    Mark flicked his eyes up at Becky, and she was simply looking in impassively. A
    sinking feeling in his stomach took over his senses. Despite his fear, his cock
    throbbed in yearning at the sight of her.

    "Faustus, Faustus," chided the lawyer

    representing the city of Rome, shaking his head almost ruefully. "My
    dear Faustus, you are so good-hearted, but this defendant of yours did not
    simply assault one of the Sacred Virgins, he did not merely violate her chaste
    body, he sublimated her. He changed her! He has corrupted her! Bring in the
    girl!"

    Mark's eyes widened as Domitia was dragged into the chamber,

    clad in her sacred robes, but with strips of red fabric bound to her arms and
    around her forehead. She looked terrified, but then she saw Mark and her eyes
    widened.

    Before anyone could stop her, she broke free of the servants

    holding her and dashed forward, howling loudly and falling to her knees at his
    feet. Everyone gaped in astonishment as she lifted his tunic, releasing his
    cock from its confinement against his stomach, kissing and then sucking on it
    hungrily, plunging it all the way down her throat in crazed need.

    People howled in shock and outrage at the scene. Mark, who

    hadn't had any sex in over twenty-four hours and was in horny agony, groaned
    loudly despite himself and gripped her head, pumping his hips against her face
    desperately as people rushed toward him and tried to pull them apart.

    Someone finally managed to pry Domitia's mouth away from his

    cock, but when spectators tried to drag her away, she wildly latched her legs
    around his waist, grinding and humping at him in a desperate frenzy of lust,
    the skirt of her stola giving way and allowing her to spike herself onto
    him. The judge and other officials watched in bewilderment as the fracas
    stumbled around the rotunda, with people trying desperately to pull them apart.
    They were yanking at Domitia, who was panting and crying out in ecstasy, while
    Mark groaned in relief and need, despite the people clawing at him and punching
    him.

    One enterprising and rather stout legionary knelt beside the

    fornicators and grabbed hold of them, straining to separate them. Domitia's
    yelps and Mark's moans became desperate grunts to hold one to one another for
    several seconds. Eventually, though, Domitia's legs gave out and she was
    dragged back from him. Mark roared in protest as he shivered and came a
    split-second after she had been pulled off him. His cock, now released from its
    warm, wet confines, smacked the legionary across his nose and spat ropes of cum
    in his eye and across his face. He wailed at the sting and fell on the floor,
    kicking in panic and trying to wipe the spume out of his eyes.

    Domitia was finally restrained, and her mouth gagged to stop

    her howling. She continued to struggle, but it was no use. At last she sagged,
    seemingly exhausted. Mark looked around, finally noticing Lord Flavius and Lady
    Pompeneia in the crowd, looking on in horror and mortification. He glanced up
    at Becky, but she was looking at the ceiling and covering her mouth, trying not
    to laugh.

    "This!" said the prosecutor angrily,

    jabbing his finger first toward Mark and then at Domitia. "This is what
    the accused has done to one of the sacred Virgins! Turned her into an
    uncontrollable harlot! She is so completely undone that she cannot think of
    anything except quenching the fire between her wanton loins!"

    Many women gasped or cried out at his unprecedented words,

    while men muttered to one another. Lady Pompeneia looked like she was ready to
    faint again.

    "This is an outrage!" Lord Flavius shouted

    furiously. "We gave our daughter to the state willingly, to fulfill her
    destiny as a priestess of the goddess, and now we see ourselves unfairly
    shamed! And this; this; slave; endangers the safety of us all, calling our
    favor with Vesta into question!"

    "Do you call charges against the Lady Horatia to

    ruin your good name?" asked the prosecutor coolly.

    "Oh, no, no, of course not," Lord Flavius

    said hastily, shaking his head and looking over at Lady Aurora. "She
    remains blameless in all of this, assuredly."

    Becky winked at Lord Flavius, and then subtly at the

    prosecutor, who smiled and winked back.

    "Jesus, Becks;” Mark muttered, scowling at the ground.

    "You've been around the pool more times than Katie Ledecky since we got
    here;”

    "Silence!" boomed the judge angrily, his

    face still rather purple from witnessing the lewd chaos wreaked in his court.
    "Centurion, strike that man if he won't show respect!"

    Mark grunted and staggered as the centurion standing close

    to him cuffed him across the ear. He stayed upright, but glowered at the man.
    "Wanna try that while my hands aren't cuffed, asshole?"

    "Silence!" roared the judge, turning purple

    again as other guards kept Mark from jumping on his assailant.

    "You are a creature of vile sin!" shouted

    Lord Flavius from the benches, pointing a trembling finger at Mark.

    "Yeah? Who cares?" Mark shot back, glaring

    at his host. "Your wife wasn't complaining yesterday when she rode my
    hog to the Promised Land, was she? No complaints from your daughter, either!"

    Lord Flavius howled in fury as he tried to rush the floor

    but was restrained. Lady Pompeneia fainted again. Another guard cuffed Mark on
    the back of the head, staggering him again, but this time he didn't have a
    snappy comeback. He looked angry, but his face had a tic suddenly. People were
    shouting and crying out in horror at the chaos the proceedings had become.

    "What manner of devil are you, boy?" the

    judge hissed at Mark.

    "Oh, I'm here to fuck every woman in Rome,"

    Mark said sarcastically, tired of this bullshit. "I meant for a Vestal
    Virgin to be last, ya’ know, sort of the proverbial cum icing on the titty
    cake. But the opportunity came up, and wham, bam, thank you, Vesta;”

    People shrieked in outrage, and Faustus pissed himself,

    staring at Mark in dumbfounded horror.

    "That's right, gents, line 'em up!" Mark

    said angrily, his face still twitching. Why was he saying these things? Was the
    chip in his head giving him Tourette's? He wiggled his erection before the
    entire room, since his tunic had got caught on it when he was separated from
    Domitia and it was still in plain view, glistening with her spittle and cunt
    juice. "Bring your uppity wives and daughters to me, I'll make 'em
    behave!"

    Faustus just threw his legal scrolls in the air and stormed

    off. Another legionary tried to punch Mark, but he dodged the punch and rammed
    his forehead into the man's nose, just avoiding his helmet. The man fell
    backwards, holding his face. Mark might have tried to kick him, but there were suddenly
    ten legionaries surrounding him, their swords pointed at his throat. Mark held
    very still, glowering.

    The judged barked for the legal scrolls he was meant to

    consult during this trial, but they were not to be found. He yelled for them
    again, and a young man barged in hastily from the back door to the rotunda, and
    the chamber beyond, carrying armfuls of scrolls. He dumped them on the judge's
    stone table and scurried off without another word. The judge made to pick up
    one of the documents, but paused; it was sticking to another scroll. He frowned
    and pulled them apart, noticing that a pearly residue was the source of the
    problem. Worse, the scroll pages became slippery as he tried to pry them apart.

    The sticky substance was all over them. And his fingers now.

    He quietly put the parchments down and shoved them aside.

    Once the judge had composed himself, clearly livid about the

    circus his courtroom had become, and once Mark was facing him again, he leaned
    in and asked a question. "Do you have anything to say before your
    sentence is pronounced?"

    "Don't you think this is enough of a sham that we

    should just get it over with?" Mark grumbled.

    "What?" the judge asked, confused.

    "I said, how about you get this show on the road,

    because thousands of my potential children have a date with your mom's face
    tonight!" Mark snapped, jerking slightly. What the absolute fuck was
    happening? He wasn't speaking Latin anymore, he was speaking Greek!

    "You mock us by speaking Greek?" demanded

    the judge, rising from his chair. "Do you seek to invalidate this court?"

    "This court is full of invalids already!"

    Mark raged, the chip inside his head sputtering. Apparently one of the blows to
    his head had made it misfire. "Get your mother out here already! And
    your daughter too!"

    The judge slumped back on his stone chair, as if stunned by

    what Mark was saying. Everyone in the court was silent, waiting to see what
    happened next.

    He turned to Domitia, who was restrained nearby. "Domitia,

    former daughter of the Flavian household and former sacred child of Vesta;
    since it is profane to spill the blood of one of the goddess' chosen, even one
    as far-fallen as yourself, with the approval of the Pontifex Maximus, you will
    be buried within the city, confined in a small chamber until you expire. Such
    is our way when dealing with such crimes."

    She sagged in the arms of the people holding her. Not far

    away, her mother Pompeneia could be heard to burst into sobs.

    He looked at Mark, his face betraying nothing. "There

    is no punishment I can bestow upon you to mitigate the excesses of your crimes
    against the state," he said evenly. "Bonosus, slave of no name, you
    are to be crucified outside of the city, and your cross set on fire, to purify
    the glorious city of Rome of your corruption. Your sentence will be carried out
    forth ‘

    "Your honor, if I may," Becky called out,

    descending from near the back of the gallery and moving toward the floor.
    "I would speak first, before you pronounce your sentence."

    The judge grimaced slightly. "My Lady Aurora, your

    family and your person are highly esteemed in the city, but the courts are no
    place for a woman to speak on legal matters."

    "Oh, I do not dispute my slave's guilt or your

    findings," she said dismissively, as she stood near Mark, but looked
    around to the people present. Mark couldn't help but notice how beautiful she
    was, even if she was just cosplaying as a Roman noble. "But I think
    that this courtroom has suffered enough, if you will;”

    Mark frowned. What was she going on about?

    "As most of you know by now, this slave of mine is

    useful for one thing," she announced. "His singular capacity
    for fucking."

    People gasped in astonishment at her words, but many women

    who had attended the orgy nodded, Lady Pompeneia not least, even as she dabbed
    at her eyes.

    "And he has served me in that capacity devotedly,"

    Becky declared, looking down and smiling at his cock rather longingly. She even
    gave it an affectionate stroke, before coming back to herself, clearing her
    throat and continuing. "His capacity and his devotion in that regard
    were never in doubt!"

    She turned and looked at him, her eyes almost accusing.

    "But he has shown a singular spirit here today that he has never shown
    while serving me," she said, her voice rife with bitterness. "Even
    so restrained, he has doused at least two of Rome's vaunted guardians. One with
    his cock alone!"

    The crowd actually laughed at her statement, while the two

    affronted legionaries scowled.

    "Where was this derring-do and spirit when he served

    me?" she demanded. "Why did I require the expense of personal
    guards when he was capable of this? Had he no intention of defending me, his
    mistress? Even though I gave him my body nightly, and shared him with others?"

    Mark was baffled. What on earth was she going on about? He

    stared at her in disbelief. Wasn't she on his side?

    "Since he sees fit to display such a warrior spirit

    when he has only himself to look after, then your Honor, I think Rome should
    avail itself of his stallion valor, and not just his stallion cock! Your Honor,
    let him serve Rome as entertainment in his final hours!"

    The crowd cheered loudly at her words, and the judge nodded

    solemnly.

    "As you will, Lady Horatia," he said.

    "And this we will proclaim, not least because of his affronts to you.
    We declare the devil Bonosus damnitia ad gladium;”

    The chip in his head translated the words and Mark's eyes

    widened. Becky smirked and winked at him before wiggling off. He gaped at the
    judge, who stared back at him coldly.

    "See you in the Colosseum, boy;” the man said

    coldly, as Mark was hauled off.

    "What? That's it?" Mark said, scowling at

    the small club he'd been given. "Don't I get a sword or one of those
    forky things and a net?"

    "Those're for gladiators, you piece of shit,"

    grunted the pit master, who was standing with him in the small cell Mark was
    confined in. He was a brutish and ugly man with only one eye, and he was
    covered in scars from head to toe. "You're here to die, filth. You're
    the one that fucked a Vestal and risked the goddess' wrath for all of Rome. No,
    that club is a mere courtesy."

    "Man, I must've royally fucked up if even this guy's

    pissed at me," Mark thought, still scowling down at what was supposed
    to be his weapon. He was pretty sure his hard-on was bigger. That, at least, had
    thankfully gone away.

    "When it's yer turn, you'll be taken up to the gates

    and wait with the others," the pit master continued. "Once yer
    outside, that's it, yer on yer own. How long you stave off death is up to you.
    I don' care."

    The man exited, locked his cage door and shuffled off,

    barking orders at someone. He could hear men in other cells, calling for mercy,
    begging to be let free. Mark just slumped against the wall and sighed, rubbing
    his hands over his face. He no longer cared that he was once again grimy and
    dirty. He didn't care much about anything, in fact.

    Over his head, the crowd roared loudly, stamping their feet

    and applauding. The whole ceiling shook slightly, and a fine haze of dust
    floated down from above. He swallowed at the implications. He forgot how many
    people the Colosseum was supposed to hold, but he knew it was similar to a lot
    of modern sports stadiums.

    How on earth was he supposed to defend himself against

    trained pit fighters? He'd seen the movie 'Gladiator' countless times. All he
    had was this damn club, after all. Mind, he wouldn't even be in this mess if
    Becky hadn't given the judge the idea. What the Hell was she thinking? Wasn't
    she supposed to be on his side, helping him find a way out;

    Then Mark groaned and thunked his head back against the

    wall. That's exactly what Becky was doing! The judge had been ready to
    crucify him and set him on fire, all at once! Becky had convinced the man to
    send him to Colosseum to be killed by gladiators or whatever. Mark was no doubt
    the main attraction of the day, since everyone in the city hated him, and that
    meant there were still several hours before he got thrown out in the arena.
    Becky had bought them time.

    God, he loved that girl!

    He thought about that for a moment; he loved Becky, as in he

    was extremely fond of her, and she was a very close and dear friend. But he was
    no longer in love with her, as he had been at the orgy, when they were
    both pumped so full of hormones from the tabs. He felt the way he normally did
    about her.

    Despite his situation, Mark smiled happily. Now all he had

    to do was help her without somehow screwing things up. The chip in his head
    seemed to be behaving again, so he was free of facial tics and uncontrollable
    swearing in dead languages. Time travel and technology had a way of making
    things difficult.

    But they didn't have to;

    "Well, am I a time traveler, or am I a time

    traveler?" he said to himself cheerfully, realizing that just maybe he
    wasn't as stuck as he thought. As long as he could make things happen from a
    future time, he could possibly affect his chances of survival now, right?

    Isn't that how he'd convinced Becky to not kill him when he

    broke into her house to have sex with her all those months ago?

    He had to be careful, though. He had no idea if he was fated

    to live beyond today, or die here. There were no guarantees. Then again, if he
    died today, he wasn't very likely to find anything from his future self, was
    he?

    He thought about how he would have tried to help himself.

    When he'd been trying to seduce Becky, he'd compelled her to write a note to
    her past self, convincing her that he was on the level. So maybe he'd leave
    something for himself to use somehow? Where?

    He was stuck in this stupid room for at least a few hours,

    so maybe what he was looking for was in here. He got up and began scrounging
    around, looking for either items out of place, or a cache where he might have
    stowed them for himself.

    So his future self, if he had been successful, had gone into

    his current self's past by at least a few hours, and stashed something away for
    him to use? Was that how it worked? And if he'd successfully done this, that
    meant Mark wouldn't die today, right? There was just no guarantee of his
    condition after today. For all he knew, he'd get run through with a sword and
    somehow survive, but remain an invalid. Fuck that!

    He noticed that he'd stopped searching, because he was

    concentrating so hard on how the mechanics of this temporal bullshit worked. Ignore
    it for now, back at it! Becky was so much better already at this time
    stuff.

    Please, please, please, let there be something;

    To be continued in part 8. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts, for Literotica.

    1 hr 11 min
  • The Time Riders: Part 6
    The Time Riders: Part 6
    An Orgy In Imperial Rome.

    Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.



    Another Time Excursion.

    "How's your head?" Becky asked as they walked down

    the hallway, gazing in wonder at the ornate mosaic that covered the floor and
    stretched ahead of them. The walls, no doubt made of brick, were covered in
    plaster, upon which colorful (and often erotic) frescoes were painted. While
    the clothing she was wearing in theory resembled the stola and other
    clothes worn by Roman women, hers was considerably abbreviated, if not
    downright scandalous. The white garment hung off her sensual curves, spilling
    away from her voluptuous tits, which could be seen through the mostly
    diaphanous material. Gold bracelets and bangles adorned her arms and a thin
    gold chain with tiny jewels sat on her ankle. She was wearing her golden-blonde
    hair up atop her head, but playful wisps and curls hung down in places, giving
    it a sassy and almost playful look. A gold-colored belt cinched in at her tiny
    waist, making her bust look even bigger.

    Mark grimaced and lightly thumped the heel of his palm

    against the side of his head, as if trying to jar his brain loose. "It
    kinda hurts, to be honest, like a buzzing headache," he muttered, waiting
    for his eye to stop twitching. "Who'd have thought getting advanced
    cybernetics installed in your noggin would hurt?"

    "Oh, come now, you're hardly Steve Austin," Becky

    chided, smiling at his outfit while they walked. "It was just a little
    bio-chip installed into your Broca's area to help you get by quickly with the
    whole language thing."

    "Well, if Latin is supposed to sound like the white

    noise on a grandpa TV combined with a mosquito buzzing in your ear, then it's
    working," Mark groused, wiggling his jaw to see if opening up his ear
    canals helped at all in getting rid of this unwelcome phenomenon. "How
    long did they say it usually lasted?"

    "Just an hour," Becky replied, stopping and

    fiddling with Mark's tunic, adjusting it to show off his handsome physique to
    best effect. The simple leather belt hung loosely on his small waist, more for
    contrast than anything. He was wearing very simple sandals on his feet. She
    hadn't had to do very much to his dark hair to achieve the look she wanted,
    merely tousling it after rubbing in a little olive oil, making it wavy and
    pleasing to look at. "Should stop any time now."

    And as if acceding to the lovely woman's request, the

    buzzing and throbbing stopped suddenly. Mark's eyes widened slightly at the
    sudden quiet inside his cranial grape. Becky saw his expression change and
    smiled, knowing what had happened.

    "Hmm," she purred, tracing a finger down his form

    and over his cock beneath his period clothes. "Estne volumen in tunica,
    an solum tibi libet me videre?"

    Mark grinned, understanding what she had said. "Ego

    sum laetus video vidi te!" he replied readily.

    "Well, I know you're happy to see these;” Becky

    whispered, leaning close and using a finger to tug down the edge of her
    barely-there clothing and exposing her tit to him, the pink nipples begging for
    his attention. "But;” she said, replacing the clothing and standing up
    again, "; we're here to take part in a Roman orgy, so we'd best get
    moving now that you're feeling better."

    Mark exhaled, composing himself after her tease, and nodded.

    "All right. So what's the drill again?"

    "Your name is Bonosus," Becky instructed, touching

    up his outfit again. "You're a slave from Spain, meaning that you have no
    rights. But don't worry, I own you, and I am very specific about who can do
    what with you."

    "So, no guy is gonna try and fuck me in the ass,

    right?" Mark asked somewhat nervously, smiling.

    Becky smiled: "Pity you won't try it, you might like

    it. However, no, I'll simply explain that you're off-limits to men, because
    you're being saved for my uncle, who is away on the German border.

    Me, I'm a patrician woman, visiting Rome, and I'm looking

    for a good time. My name is Aurora. If you really need my attention and are
    worried about speaking in Latin, we'll speak in English, quietly. Got it?"

    "Okay, what should I expect?" he queried.

    "I did a little research, looking for who had a

    reputation for throwing orgies and parties that tended to bring out the morals
    police," she answered, adjusting her own outfit now. Neither of them was
    wearing undergarments, and if the light caught the bottom portion of her
    so-called dress just right, Mark could see her cunt. "This villa is far
    enough on the outskirts of Rome that we're very unlikely to get a visit."

    She leaned back against the wall, smiling saucily as she

    drew him into her, their pelvises pressing together as she looked up at him.

    "So we're going to go in there, and fuck, and fuck, and

    fuck, with anyone and everyone we choose," she whispered in his ear.
    "Fuck every single girl that catches your fancy, Mark. Those anacept pills
    we took will cover us against all known transmitted diseases for a week, and
    they make us temporarily infertile. No consequences. And the tiny tabs on our
    skin will keep our libidos from flagging for a whole day."

    "That sounds great," he agreed, his eyes glinting

    with excitement. "Really great."

    "Mark, I am going to behave like I haven't since my

    wildest nights in college," Becky said softly, reaching up and running her
    fingers through his hair as she looked up into his eyes. He could feel her
    breathing getting heavy. She was really turned on by what they were about to
    do. "Are you sure you're prepared to see me like that?"

    Mark nodded: "I don't own you, Becks. We're time travel

    partners, and damned good ones. It's not like we're in love. Do what you like,
    I promise, it's fine."

    "Hmm, just when I thought you couldn't get more

    attractive;” she purred, pulling him in for a deep kiss while they leaned
    against the wall. She broke the kiss and looked up at him. "Do' you
    remember where all our supplies are, in case things happen to go south?"

    Mark nodded again. "Back in the little vestibule near

    the servants' rooms. I remember. Now let's do this; Mistress Aurora."

    "God, I could get used to hearing that," Becky

    sighed, shivering as she straightened up and prepared herself. "Remember;
    lots of drinking, eating, music, dancing and fucking. Do whatever the Hell
    feels good tonight, Mark, this is a real Roman orgy."

    She took him by the hand and smiled wickedly. "Now

    let's go get 'em, tiger;”

    Mark was laughing and drinking wine from a silver goblet,

    while watching a group of slave girls dance in the middle of the floor. The
    girls, who were clearly from all around the Empire, were whirling and cavorting
    about while drums and cymbals clashed out a rhythmic beat for them to follow.
    They wore sheer material draping down from their waists between their legs, and
    nothing else. Their tits bounced and jiggled about as they twirled about one
    another, letting out sensuous calls on occasion.

    The hosts of the day's festivities, a patrician man named

    Flavius and his lovely wife Pompeneia, were very wealthy, and they owned over
    five hundred slaves, spread out among three separate properties spaced around
    the capital. Mark had even heard tell that they owned land in Egypt and
    Byzantium. Wealthy indeed.

    There were nearly fifty proper guests, excluding slaves and

    attendants, so the place was fairly bustling with people. Patricians,
    plebeians, freedmen, freedwomen and slaves, all were to enjoy themselves
    tonight. And all at the request of the guest of honor, the stunning Aurora of
    the fabled Horatius family.

    Mark pried his eyes away from the dancing girls long enough

    to look around for his 'mistress'. He finally espied her, lying stretched out
    on a lectus, along with their hostess, Pompeneia, hungrily swallowing
    one another's tongue while they groped each other. Against all odds, 'Aurora'
    still had her clothes on, although only barely.

    Mistress Horatia Aurora had, as guest of honor, requested

    that in the name of the goddess Feronia, that the slaves be allowed to
    celebrate tonight as well, free of consequence, as long as they also performed
    their assigned duties. If not actively seeing to an assignment, they were
    allowed to sit, although they had to accede their seat to anyone of a higher
    station who needed it. They would also still oblige guests who wished to be
    serviced by the slave in question, and the Flavius household's slaves were all
    available to anyone who attended.

    Mark looked back at the dance now, seeing that it was

    winding down, with the girls letting out calls that there supposed to represent
    cranes or herons crying out for mates. That was an invitation for anyone
    inclined to come and take them once the dance had ended. They all fell still in
    various poses as the drums and cymbals stopped and the room erupted in applause
    and cheers for their efforts.

    Mark smiled as one bronze-skinned beauty on the floor caught

    his eye. As the dancers dispersed into the crowd, she slowly walked over to
    him, her deep hazel eyes liquid with passion.

    Mark greeted her with a cup of wine, offering it to her.

    "I thank you," she said in a heavy accent,

    her Latin speech seeming formal. "Tonight is a special night indeed, is
    it not?"

    Mark paused for a half second as the tiny chip in his brain

    listened to what she was saying and translated it for him. Weirder still, it
    translated what she was saying in her voice, but in English. Her English voice
    sounded quite amazing to him, and he felt a stirring in his loins as he gazed
    at her body.

    He thought of how to respond, the translation coming to him

    readily, in his voice, so that he knew how to sound when he said it.
    This technology blew his mind, somewhat literally.

    "Yeah," he replied in Latin, nodding as he

    clinked his silver goblet against hers. "I am enjoying it. You dance
    very well."

    "I have to," she replied, using two hands

    to bring the goblet up to her lips and sipping from it, as if she'd never had
    wine before. Hell, maybe she hadn't for all he knew. "If a dancer does
    not dance well in the Flavius household, demotion to some other task, probably
    much more horrible, awaits them. I need to be a good dancer, if I am to keep my
    coveted position."

    "I'm sure your masters have many coveted positions

    where you're concerned," Mark quipped, smirking.

    The girl blushed and giggled, taking another sip of her wine

    and looked at him. "You are slave to the Mistress Aurora, yes?"

    Mark nodded: "I am."

    "What is it like to be her slave?" she

    asked, looking up into his eyes. Mark was the tallest person in the room, and
    it wasn't going unnoticed. Becky was certainly the tallest woman, but he'd
    heard her jest about having German barbarians in her ancestry. Everyone laughed
    it off, and the party continued.

    Mark considered for a moment before answering. "Well,

    I like it a lot. Sure beats the life I was living before I became her slave."

    "Are you her only slave?" queried the girl,

    clearly more than a little intrigued. She didn't seem at all bothered by the
    fact that every time he wasn't speaking, Mark's eyes went down to her tits.
    They weren't as big as Becky's by any means, but they were still very nice, her
    soft light brown skin capped with darker brown aureoles and pronounced nipples.

    "Well, no," he lied, thinking on his feet.

    He hadn't really expected any questions along this line and would have to tell
    Becky whatever he said, so they could coordinate their stories if the matter
    came up. "I'm not really any good at counting, but there's always a lot
    of us around."

    "What do you do for her?"

    Shit, better make this simple but good; he thought to

    himself. "I'm her personal servant. I do all the most personal and
    intimate things for her. I dress her, I taste her food for her, I bathe her;”

    "Do you fuck her?" she inquired, looking

    over the rim of her silver cup as she took another drink, a deeper one this
    time. So this was the crux question, he realized. He simply nodded, as if it
    was the most obvious thing in the world.

    "Oh," she said in a quiet voice, as if his

    words were of concern for her. "Do; do her other servants fuck her?"

    He smirked: "None of the male ones, now that she's got

    me."

    She raised her eyebrow at his statement and took another

    drink. "Is that so?"

    Mark shook his head for a moment, as if he was remembering

    something. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude, I didn't ask your name."

    The girl made a wry face. "My name? Why would anyone

    ask for my name? I am a slave."

    Mark shrugged. "Well, so am I. Tell me your name, so

    I know what I'll be calling out in an hour."

    The girl almost choked on her wine, but recovered and looked

    up at him, as if assessing him. Finally she spoke: "Before I became a
    slave, my name was Nanu."

    Mark wasn't terribly surprised when the stupid chip in his

    head found out what the name meant. "So you're Egyptian and your name
    means 'pretty' or 'cute.'"

    She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to fathom how

    he could have possibly known that. "What is your mistress' name in my
    language?" she asked suspiciously.

    Mark blinked for a moment. "Khepri nebet."

    She moved closer to him. "What is your name, slave?"

    He smiled at her warmly, deciding it was time to move things

    along. "My name is Bonosus, Nanu, and I am the slave who is going to
    fuck you."

    Nanu smiled and reached out a hand to him.

    Becky panted as she rocked back and forth on her knees,

    pressing her face into her hostess' hairy cunt, lashing it with her tongue. Behind
    her, one of Pompeneia's slaves was gripping her hips and plowing his hard cock
    in and out of Becky, trying to keep up with her lusty pace. He wasn't nearly as
    large as Mark, nor was he as talented, but he would make her cum, given the
    environment. Becky was here to fuck in a Roman orgy, and what individual
    participants might lack in skill, her excitement would certainly make up for.

    Pompeneia moaned and gripped Becky's hair, loosening it

    further from its carefully piled arrangement. Becky didn't mind, though, as she
    expected to look fully disheveled and thoroughly fucked by the time this orgy
    was over. She'd had several cups of aged wine already and was feeling
    uninhibited, even for her. She slid two fingers inside her hostess, making her
    moan and churn her matronly hips while Becky took another stiff drink from her
    goblet. She then returned her mouth to Pompeneia's snatch, allowing rivulets of
    the dark wine to flow out over her engorged vulva before sucking on it
    hungrily, making the patrician woman gasp and groan loudly and thrash about on
    the lectus she was splayed on.

    The slave behind her pistoned his hips against her while she

    ground back against him, taking his cock as deep inside her as she could. She
    could feel him swelling and knew he was close to cumming, but she didn't mind
    if she didn't climax yet, because the day was young, and this orgy had barely
    started. There were so many people left to fuck.

    Besides, she could always track down her darling Mark if she

    needed serious attention, after all.

    The slave grunted and let out a low moan before he began

    spurting his cum inside her. Becky moaned into Pompeneia's cunt, sending her
    over the edge and making her cum shamelessly, her fat tits flopping about for
    all to see. Nobody cared, or if they did, they were delighted by it. There was
    no judgment at this orgy.

    As the slave pulled out, Becky clambered on top of Pompeneia

    and they kissed deeply, wrapping their arms around one another, tongues
    plunging. Becky finally sat up, smiling and straddling her hostess' hips. She
    smirked down at the Roman woman and then reached beneath herself, flexing her
    cunt muscles and teasing out the cum that the slave had just deposited in her.
    She smeared it all over Pompeneia's thatch and nether lips, before dragging her
    shaved twat up her lover's body, leaving a glistening and sticky trail of cum
    along the way. She squirmed and writhed on Pompeneia's tits, smearing them in
    the slave's essence while trying to get one of the nipples inside her cunt.

    Finally she wiggled her way up to Pompeneia's mouth, and the

    older woman gripped Becky's thighs and sucked on her smooth cunt hungrily,
    coaxing out all the cum she could from her guest. Becky smiled and reached back
    with one hand to finger Pompeneia's gooey cunt, bringing her to yet another
    climax, the fourth she'd received from Becky. The teacher had no doubt this
    woman would remember her very fondly.

    She finally clambered off Pompeneia and knelt beside her,

    the two of them kissing tenderly, sharing the cum from the slave between them,
    followed by Becky licking the residue off her lover's face. They whispered to
    one another before Becky stood and strutted away, knowing that Pompeneia's eyes
    were fixated on her glorious, toned ass. It felt good, knowing she was the
    object of desire for every single person in the entire household.

    Becky looked around in wonder, surrounded by actual Roman

    artwork, in a completely intact home with a glorious mosaic tile floor
    depicting a couple making love and then a hunting scene involving a lion. The
    plastered walls were painted in bright colors. The furniture, made of wood with
    brass fittings and comfortable cushions, was currently being put to the test as
    couples or groups around her fucked and made love in every conceivable
    position.

    She gazed down at the silver goblet in her hand, made of

    beaten silver and decorated with glass prisms and with a poem etched into its
    circumference. She picked up a small, sticky honey cake from a table, then took
    a bite from it before smiling wickedly and pressing it to her glorious tits,
    smearing the sticky honey all over them. As a female slave passed by, Becky
    took her gently by the arm and pulled her into an embrace, gently pushing her
    head down. The slave understood immediately and began kissing her tits, slithering
    her tongue around to get the gooey sweetness off Becky.

    The blonde woman was shivering and groaning while already

    smearing the honey cake against her cunt.

    Mark was sitting on in a low chair in a side room, holding

    Nanu by the waist while she bounced up and down on his lap, her arms around his
    shoulders and her eyes staring down into his. Her greedy cunt swallowed his
    cock, making her gasp and groan with each motion. Her inner muscles squeezed
    around him, and while Becky was definitely more skilled, and perhaps even
    tighter, the fact that he was actually fucking a Roman slave was an incredible
    thrill.

    She jammed her lips to his and kissed him feverishly, her

    fingernails raking over his back as she ground down on him, hissing and panting
    with lust. He found her to be incredibly exotic, and he realized that it might
    because he'd never met a true ethnic Egyptian before. As far as he knew, the
    bloodline of the ancient Egyptians had become extinct. She certainly looked
    exotic to him, with her deeply tan skin, hazel eyes and straight, coal-black
    hair.

    He used his strong arms to help move her up and down, almost

    spiking her on his cock, and her panting became a delightful yelping. There
    were loud cries of ecstasy from all over the house, so they paid no attention
    to anything else. She kissed him again before seizing up and shuddering,
    groaning loudly. She threw her head back and pressed her cunt down as hard as
    she could, cumming wildly. Mark kept pumping relentlessly, loving how her
    snatch clenched around him.

    Nanu flopped backward, her head now on the floor, arms

    splayed and her back arched, still pinned to Mark by his cock. Her chest rose
    and fell as she breathed heavily, still trembling. He smiled down at the girl,
    waiting for her to recover. When her eyes finally fluttered open, he took her
    arms and gently pulled her up to him. She almost purred and nuzzled against
    him, still in the throes of a sultry bliss that filled her. Nanu kissed him
    everywhere she could reach, including his fingertips.

    "You are an exquisite lover," she murmured,

    looking deep into his eyes and caressing his face. "No wonder your
    mistress needs only you for fucking."

    He smiled back: "I'm just happy that she doesn't

    mind sharing me, because I am enjoying fucking you too."

    She went back to kissing him gently, and was whispering

    things against his skin, but too softly for him to understand. She finally
    looked back up at him. "But you have not yet cum."

    Mark shook his head.

    "Do you fear giving me a child?" Nanu

    asked. He shook his head again. "Then are you barren?"

    "Only for this week," he quipped, grinning

    and enjoying her confusion at his statement. "Don't worry, I'm just
    conserving my strength. This orgy is a long way from over, and if I cum now, I
    don't know how long it will take me to recover."

    "Do you promise to cum in me?" Nanu asked

    expectantly. "I; I am just a slave, I know, but I like you, Bonosus. I
    want to feel your cum in me, especially if you cannot give me a child."

    "I think I can make that promise;” Mark replied,

    pulling her in for another kiss.

    Becky shivered as she sat on the stone bench, centered over

    a hole as she started to pee. She'd already cum at least six times, and she had
    the distinct feeling the tally would be sixty before the night was out. One
    woman and one man slave leaned down on either side of her and began sliding and
    flickering their tongues around her rock-hard nipples, making her moan in
    delight. She felt her legs being parted and smiled down at a freedwoman who
    leaned in and tongued her cunt attentively, even here in the cultus, the
    small, private bathroom of the Flavius family.

    Becky sighed and cradled the head of the woman licking her

    cunt, while squirming her tits against the mouths of the two slaves sucking
    them. The tongue of the woman between her legs sent tingles through her, and
    she could feel another climax building rapidly. Everything about this setting,
    this experience, was making her hornier and more sensitive than ever. She
    wrapped her arms around the necks of the man and woman sucking on her nipples
    and pulled them in tight, arching her back and groaning very loudly as she
    came, squirting into the face of the woman licking her cunt. She bucked and
    writhed on the seat, thankful for the anacept pills she and Mark had taken,
    since she'd done quite a bit of research on Roman hygiene practices.

    She stood finally, releasing the two slaves who were sucking

    on her tits, while the girl between her legs merely knelt back a little and
    kept her mouth pressed to Becky's cunt, massaging it with her tongue. Becky
    smiled down at her dreamily and winked before pulling her to her feet. They
    kissed deeply and then she led her out of the room, followed by the slaves.

    "Go and find my manservant for me," Becky

    instructed. "Bring him to me and I'll let him fuck you. He is a
    wonderful lover."

    The woman hurried off, while Becky found a couch and

    reclined, her legs spread wide. She let the male slave lap at her gooey cunt
    while she made out with the female. She felt so deliciously depraved in this
    setting, like she could let everything go and act like a harlot without
    consequence. Which she could.

    The freedwoman returned some minutes later (Becky barely

    remembered having sent her at this point), with Mark following. He was delightfully
    naked, his cock glistening with lubrication. He was holding the hand of a
    dark-skinned and dark-haired girl, who was clearly a slave and following behind
    him. The girl gaped at Becky in awe.

    "Hey, Becks," Mark said cheerfully in English,

    almost laughing as the chip in his noggin tried to translate what he was saying
    into Latin. "Enjoying yourself?"

    "Hmm, you have no idea, baby," the blonde

    woman purred, stretching her arms over her head so that her glorious tits
    thrust up toward the ceiling. "I see you've found yourself a pretty little
    playmate. She was one of the dancers from earlier, right?"

    "Yeah, I wanna see if I can somehow get all eight to

    fuck me at once," Mark replied, grinning. "That'll beat my record by
    at least a factor of; wait; you, Alexandra and her servant Lisette all at once;
    divided into eight;”

    "Don't strain yourself, Einstein," Becky said

    dryly. "Just suffice to say that fucking eight Roman slave-dancers at once
    will be more than anyone else you know will ever accomplish."

    "Except you, I'm betting," Mark pointed out,

    smirking.

    "Is that a challenge, young man?" Becky asked,

    raising her eyebrow.

    "What'll we wager?" he queried. He had no

    particular confidence that he could outfuck his Physics teacher, because she
    had proven to be quite a sex fiend, but he was more than willing to try, here
    in Imperial Rome.

    "Tell you what;” Becky suggested, sitting up on the

    couch at looking up at him, smiling lightly. "If I win, you have to let
    the man of my choice here in this orgy fuck you in the ass."

    Mark was very still, a shiver of dread going up his spine.

    He swallowed, waiting to hear what else she had to say.

    "But, if you manage to fuck more girls at one time than

    I take of male and female lovers at one time, I'll buy your cute little
    girlfriend from our host and make her ours, okay?"

    Mark could barely process what he was hearing. He turned his

    head and stared at Nanu, weighing the price of 'owning' her versus having his
    ass plowed by some random Roman dude.

    The perils of time travel.

    But he'd already been shot and survived, right?

    "You're on, Becks," he said finally. "Ya'

    only live once, right?"

    "That's the spirit," she cooed, winking at him.

    "Tu solum vivis unum tempus! As long as you save some of that
    splendid stamina and cum of yours for me. So, are you going to introduce me to
    your little friend?"

    Mark nodded and pulled the Egyptian girl forward. She seemed

    rather intimidated. "Becks, this is Nanu. She's Egyptian."

    Becky smiled kindly and patted her soft lap. Nanu let go of

    Mark's hand and eased herself carefully onto the blonde goddess' lap, sitting
    sideways. Becky put her arms around the girl's waist and looked her up and
    down.

    "Hmm, very nice, Mark;” Becky said quietly before

    pulling Nanu gently into her and kissing her warmly. To her credit, the slave
    girl did not resist at all, but melted into the kiss, moaning in pleasure. She
    squirmed around until she was straddling Becky, her legs hitched behind her
    back, and their tits squashed together. Mark stood closer and watched eagerly
    as their tongues tangled and they began caressing and fondling one another.
    Nanu shivered under Becky's divine touch, and he knew she was incredibly
    aroused already.

    Their kiss became sloppy, and they slid their tongues around

    one another's faces, leaving them glistening and sticky. Becky took Nanu's
    bottom lip in her mouth, sucking it in. The slave shivered again and let out a
    tiny whimper, before pulling back from the kiss and touching her fingers to the
    lip. She examined the fingers, noticing a trace of blood.

    "Yes, I bit your lip," Becky whispered to

    her only loud enough for Nanu and Mark to hear. "By making you bleed
    from our kiss, I have stated my intent to own you, Nanu. Would you like
    that?"

    Nanu's eyes widened and she nodded almost imperceptibly.

    "Good," Becky said, reaching between them

    and cupping the Egyptian girl's tit, giving it a gentle feel. "Now all
    my naughty little Bonosus has to do is manage to fuck all eight of you dancing
    girls at once in order to make that happen. You might want to help him a
    little;”

    She allowed the slave girl to stand and gave her a gentle

    pat on the rear. Nanu stood in front of Mark for a moment, looking up at him,
    and then hurried off. He then heard Becky giggling.

    "Goodness, Mark, how hard did you fuck her to make her

    fall that much in love with you already?" the blonde asked, her beautiful
    blue eyes glinting with mirth.

    Mark tried not to frown. "I didn't have to fuck her that

    hard, thank you. I've fucked you a lot harder on countless occasions."

    "And you'll have to fuck me much harder still to make

    me fall in love with you, handsome," she cooed, reaching out and stroking
    his cock gently. "It's time for my surprise. Have you put the little
    speaker things all around?"

    Mark nodded: "The switch to activate them and the music

    is in the little satchel we brought. I'll be ready."

    Becky smiled and stood up, moving close to Mark so that

    their bodies were pressing and his cock was nestled against her slick cunt, and
    already hardening from the contact. She smiled and traced a finger along his
    swelling cock while looking up into his eyes.

    "I'm glad to be here, Mark," she said softly,

    knowing that many sets of eyes were on them, and quite envious of them both.
    "But I'm mostly glad to be here sharing this with you. I couldn't have
    asked for a better time travel partner."

    They kissed tenderly for a moment before Becky pulled back

    and winked. "I'm gonna go get dressed; be ready for me."

    She scampered off, and he watched her magnificent ass wiggle

    away from him. He noticed he wasn't the only one staring. He wandered around
    and made sure that all the 'speakers' were strategically placed around the room
    for Becky's performance. They looked and felt like rocks, to be honest, so he
    had no idea how they worked. All he knew was that he'd tested them, and they
    did. Hell, they even had the music they were meant to play stored in them!
    Future-tech was really something.

    He remembered how they'd found a chrono-merchant, right in

    his hometown, in a secluded store he'd never noticed before. Chester had
    pointed them to the merchant in question, and he was happy to help them. Most
    of his time was spent helping customers from the far future, who happened to be
    visiting Mark and Becky's era, so having some locals was a refreshing change
    for him.

    The student and teacher had expressed their wish to go back

    to Imperial Rome and attend a real orgy. The man smiled slyly and showed them a
    range of items he thought they might need; clothing, currency, subtle but
    advanced medications to protect themselves;

    All it cost Mark was his collection of six vintage Star Wars

    Pez dispensers. Apparently, originals were big collector's items in the future.

    "Remind me to come back to you with my dad's Micronauts

    and Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots!" Mark had laughed.

    Mark felt well-prepared for this trip, and he had to admit,

    he was enjoying himself. He drank from his wine while standing in front of a
    patrician woman, who was sitting naked on a couch and slurping hungrily back
    and forth on his cock. He gazed around, noting the sumptuous array of foods
    laid out in vast quantities for the event; it was very hard for many of the
    slaves to restrain themselves from eating greedily, since this type of
    generosity was almost unknown to them.

    Loaves of bread, honey-cakes, dates, figs, stuffed dormice,

    varieties of pulses, apricots, various fish, cheeses, boar meat, olives, and
    caviar, which he'd heard the hostess Pompeneia brag to Becky about being sent
    straight from Persia. He'd never tried caviar before, and he was surprised that
    he actually liked it.

    He blinked as he felt the patrician woman pull her mouth off

    his throbbing cock, which she had brought back to an impressive hardness. She
    had then bent over the couch, in full view of everyone in the room, and
    shamelessly reached back and spread her ass cheeks, exposing her puckered knot
    and asking him to fuck her ass.

    Mark bit his lip, wondering what to do; Becky wouldn't be

    much longer in getting ready, but slaves were obliged to satisfy all favors
    required of them by the legitimate guests, especially the higher-ranking
    patricians. He couldn't say no.

    He stepped up and took hold of her wobbly ass cheeks,

    steadying his cock against her. She moaned in anticipation of him entering her.
    He reached down and ran his hand up and down her sloppy cunt for several
    seconds, and used that lubrication to prepare her ass, sticking his index
    finger inside her and twisting it around. The woman groaned loudly, and he
    realized that she was making a show of it, announcing that she was the
    one getting fucked by this tall, handsome and mysterious Spanish slave of Lady
    Aurora's. Apparently he was something of a commodity.

    He would fuck her ass fast and hard, making her cum, so that

    he could return to his assignment from Becky. He took hold of his cock and
    pressed the head against her little star, pushing it through. She grunted and
    let out a moan. Lots of people were watching, including more than a few slaves.

    Slowly and firmly, Mark slid his turgid phallus deep inside

    her, making her cry out so loudly that he was certain she could be heard
    outside the villa, despite all the other carnal happenings around them.

    Here goes nothing;

    He gripped her hips and leaned over her, pressing her down into

    the couch as she wailed again. He began pumping in and out strongly, plowing
    deep inside her. Clearly she was no stranger to this, because she wasn't nearly
    as tight as Becky. He fucked her ass in a steady rhythm, watching as his own
    pulsing shaft slid in and out of her. She gasped and yelped, putting on a show
    for those watching. Her hands kept her ass cheeks pulled wide, so everyone
    could see how deep inside her Mark was.

    Then he took the initiative. Everyone gasped as he let go of

    her hips and gripped both of her wrists, pulling back toward himself and
    arching her spine, even as he pressed forward into her more strongly with each
    stroke. The woman seemed to choke on her breath, shaking and looking back at
    him in shock. Her face was variously flushed and pale, depending on where one
    looked. Her eyes seemed bleary, as if she was on the verge of tears. Her erect
    nipples declared her arousal as her tits protruded far in front of her
    back-stretched arms. He rode her as though she was a bridled horse, only her
    two arm were the reins.
    The full floppy tits shook wildly with his aggressive pounding, grinding,
    fucking of her asshole.

    But she didn't object to his aggression or dominance.

    "Do you think Mistress Horatia lets him take her

    that way?" he heard one woman ask another as she gazed on in rapt
    wonder.

    "If she does, she's a lucky cunt, she is;”

    whispered the other woman in response.

    And still he plunged his cock deep inside her ass, making

    the woman squeal and churn beneath him, struggling to move, but pinned by his
    superior strength. He could tell that the other women (and most likely some
    men) were jealous, because they were beginning to talk shit about her quietly.

    "Qualem muleirculam!" whispered a man

    gazing one in envy. That seemed a little harsh; Mark wasn't sure she was
    actually a bimbo. A shameless slut, sure. But wasn't everyone here today?

    "Pedica meo!" she gasped, squeezing her ass

    around him. "Pedica meo!"

    Mark fucked her faster and stronger still, driving his cock

    deep into her bowels, until she sounded like she was having a severe asthma
    attack. She wheezed and struggled, but he held her immobilized. She could not
    escape this exquisite torture unless he let her. He could feel her tightening,
    though, and he knew she wouldn't last long; exactly what he wanted. He would
    make sure she got the show she desired.

    His hips began pistoning rapidly, but with even more

    strength. The woman's eyes rolled into her head and her mouth dropped open. Her
    entire body shuddered in a long wave, and she screeched, battered by endless
    waves of pleasure as the orgasm crashed over her. She clenched her teeth and
    writhed, as if trying to escape, but she had already completely surrendered to
    her blissful fate.

    Mark dropped her wrists and now gripped her long, kinky brown

    hair, yanking on it to pull her up. She gasped at the unexpected but glorious
    sting and found herself pulled up and back against him. His hips still pumped
    against her ass cheeks, sliding his cock deep within, while his strong hands
    began to grope and almost maul her flushed, sweaty body. Helpless before him,
    she allowed the violation readily, whimpering and in tears.

    "Es scortum obscenus vilis," he growled in

    her ear before biting it and making her writhe in need. "You are a
    vile, dirty little whore, aren't you?"

    "Etiam!" she gasped, as his hand gripped

    her chin and turned her face forcefully to look into his eyes. "Yes, I
    am a vile, dirty whore! Fuck me in my shame!"

    He fucked her until she was almost limp, and finally slid

    out of her ass, the abused knot pulling back along with his shaft obscenely, a
    fact noted and commented on by anyone close enough to see. She collapsed
    forward over the couch again, trembling, but saying nothing. Mark turned his
    body and caught the gaze of another woman, who hustled over, knelt and began
    sucking on his cock without question. He waited while she cleaned him dutifully
    before noticing Becky standing by a dark corner, watching in amusement. She
    raised an eyebrow and he nodded.

    Without further ado, he subtly retrieved the remote for the

    things that were supposed to be speakers, and held his arms up, beckoning
    everyone to gather in. As the naked crowd moved in, the host and hostess came
    and stood near him, smiling pleasantly. Pompeneia explained that they were now
    to be entertained by the guest of honor, who would be dancing for them all. As
    if on cue with her words, slaves around the room modified the intensity of the
    flames coming from the braziers that illuminated the room, making it dimmer and
    more sensual, except for an area in the central expanse.

    Mark subtly pressed a button on a tiny remote he was hiding

    in his hand.

    Music emanated from around the room from the concealed

    speakers. He'd remembered what the T E A agents had told him about
    anachronistic technologies and how they would rarely work in times or eras they
    were not known in, but he seemed to be getting away with it so far. It occurred
    to him that this meant the technologies he and Becky were using were not to be discovered.
    Yet.

    He smiled as Becky seemed to shift and ripple into view,

    because of the flickering brazier flames. The music, he knew, would be like
    nothing these people had ever heard before. True, it wasn't metal, but the
    arrangements and instruments would be alien. Not to mention the Phil
    Spector-esque 'Wall of Sound' involved.

    Becky had told him the song was called 'Gypsy', and she now

    spread her arms over the head, as diaphanous strips of translucent material
    curled sensuously around her lovely form, and gems glittered on her forehead
    and navel. Gold anklets tinkled on her feet.

    Mark had never seen 'Lord of the Dance' before, but watching

    Becky, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

    As wind instruments began playing while drums and strings

    kept a backbeat, Becky snaked and twirled around the circular space in time
    with the music. Everyone watched her, rapt. Mark's eyes flicked over and he saw
    Nanu looking on from farther back in the room, standing atop a bench to get a
    better view. Her eyes were wide with awe. People were still whispering as they
    watched; for a patrician woman to dance this way, or even know how to
    dance this way, was scandalous, and they loved every second of her performance.

    The music grew louder and more intense as the wall of sound,

    a concept these people couldn't even readily grasp, filled the venereum.
    Becky continued her cavorting, her tits bouncing about beneath the outfit she
    was wearing. It was more of a tease than anything, because it concealed pretty
    much nothing. When she kicked high, she showed her cunt to everyone. She
    seemingly didn't care, or was enjoying it. Probably the latter, knowing
    her as he did now.

    The music reached a crescendo and then stopped, with Becky

    collapsing to a sitting position, curled in on herself. The crowd clapped,
    cheered and catcalled enthusiastically. Seconds later, another musical piece
    began, this one in a style probably more familiar to the onlookers. Mark knew
    it was from the soundtrack of the movie 'Alexander'. It opened with tinkling
    chimes and what sounded like hooting bird calls. Becky slowly rose to her feet,
    holding an elaborate pose.

    Then what sounded like four hammers striking an anvil rang

    across the space, followed by a frenetic drum beat. Becky broke into a wild
    dance, spinning and prancing about with abandon. The crowd watched spellbound
    as the music echoed around the room. Becky's blue eyes flashed with excitement,
    knowing that the revelers were enchanted by her. There was no one in this room
    who was not sexually enthralled with her at this very moment.

    Even Mark, who knew her pretty much better that anyone on

    this planet, at any point in history, was watching her in quiet awe. It made
    her wet, thinking of what he'd do to her later after watching this.

    As she whirled in a circle close to the crowd, she took hold

    of a male dancer slave, and then another, leading them in the exotic and
    magnetic dance she now performed. Both men were naked, and she snaked her body
    against them, rapidly bringing them to hardness. The crowd cheered as she flung
    aside the strips of fabric that concealed her body, until she was as naked as
    the slaves.

    Everyone watched in astonishment as she dropped to her knees

    between the two men and began hungrily sucking on their cocks, each one in
    turn, then finally putting them both in her mouth at once, her cheeks bulging
    obscenely.

    "In the name of Suadela," breathed

    Pompeneia, standing next to Mark and staring dumbly. "Your mistress is
    the most magnificent whore I have ever seen, Bonosus."

    "Yeah, she's something, all right;” Mark agreed,

    blown away by his teacher's depravity. He thought about how much she'd been
    looking forward to behaving so luridly, without the consequences of biology or
    moral censure. She was time-travelling, for crying out loud; could there have
    been a better excuse?

    No, if he was allowed to fuck as many women as he wanted,

    even all at once, Becky had the right to do whatever the Hell suited her. It
    was a damned fool who held her to a different standard just because she was a
    woman. Guys who thought like that never got women as amazing as Becky. Loser
    incels;

    The music was finally ending, and he discreetly shut off the

    speakers with his tiny remote. Seconds later, he felt a dainty hand on his
    shoulder. He turned to look at Pompeneia, who smiled at him wickedly and cocked
    her head, indicating she should follow him.

    Mark took a deep breath and gently touched the

    nearly-invisible tab he'd put under his armpit, thankful for the vasopressin it
    was releasing into his system;

    "Heaven," Becky thought dreamily as she

    rode up and down slowly, the slave cock throbbing as it slid in and out of her
    ass. He was lying beneath her while she faced down his legs, his strong hands
    massaging her toned cheeks. His legs were spread to make way for another slave
    who knelt in front of her, thrusting back and forth to spear his rod in and out
    of her cunt. She groaned around the cock that was in her mouth, the freedman
    who owned it standing next to her beautiful face and letting her suck him. On either
    side, her hands were pumping vigorously on the cocks of two more slaves. "God,"
    she thought, "I haven't done anything this wild since Frosh Week
    in my sophomore year. I've missed it so;”

    Five men at once. No regrets, no consequences. She almost

    giggled as she wondered where else she might fit another. Then two hands
    reached around from behind and began groping her ample tits, making her moan
    around the cock she was sucking on. Another slave had moved up behind her and
    settled down onto the face of the man beneath her. His hands groped her while
    the slave below him did something to his ass. Becky didn't care what they did
    to one another; she just wanted to feel as many men on her as possible.

    She shuddered as her nipples were pinched and she bobbed back

    and forth faster on the cock in her mouth, expertly swirling her tongue around
    the head and the shaft. Her hands twisted gently on the skin of the cocks she
    was holding, while she squeezed the ones inside her. She could feel them
    bumping against one another, separated only by a thin membrane between her cunt
    and ass. She gasped and almost wheezed, because they were striking deep inside
    her at different angles. The slave fucking her cunt was moving at an almost
    horizontal angle, while the one in her ass pushed straight up. It was almost;
    disorienting in a way.

    She gently pulled the two slaves she was jerking even

    closer, so that she could touch their cocks together, sliding them against one
    another. The slave behind her with his hands on her tits moved them, shifting
    them to her trim stomach as she pointed the two throbbing cocks at her tits,
    her hands stroking them rapidly. The slaves both moaned and shuddered as they
    spurted their cum across the expanse of her bosom, glazing the silken skin.
    Seconds later, she felt the cock in her mouth throb and swell, pumping a pearly
    offering down her throat. She swallowed hungrily, enthralled to be living her
    wild days all over again.

    Becky cried out and shook as an orgasm blossomed through

    her, just the first of many she planned to have in this particular tryst.
    Slaves leaned in and began lapping at the cum on her tits, tongues sliding
    along the skin or swirling around the nipples, occasionally biting and tugging
    on them. She leaned back, moving the man behind her to the side as she lay on
    the Nubian slave beneath her, still pumping in and out of her ass. She reached
    up and pulled the man fucking her cunt down by the shoulders, bringing him
    close and kissing him, their tongues rolling and wrestling about. They were both
    spearing up inside her now, their thrusts beginning to sync as she groaned
    shamelessly, filled with an exquisite wet heat. The climax that followed
    seconds later rocked her to her core, but she powered through it, determined to
    have as many more as possible.

    Now she let the two men fuck her while she took another hard

    cock in her mouth, stretching her neck back and relaxing her throat, letting it
    slide back and forth inside her. She gripped the hips of the man fucking her
    face, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the unadulterated ecstasy flowing through
    her, needing more men to pleasure her;

    Mark was sitting back lazily in the shallow pool that

    dominated the palaestra of the Flavian villa. He gazed around at the
    ornate courtyard, surrounded by columns and burgeoning with ornamental plants
    and trees. Exotic animals like peacocks could be seen strutting across the
    grass; at least, they could where none of the orgy's attendees were making
    merry.

    He sighed as a dancer girl knelt behind him and massaged his

    shoulders, while two others were curled up against his sides, cooing and
    kissing his skin. Nanu, meanwhile, was sitting in his lap, facing out and
    moving up and down slowly on his cock, taking it deep inside herself, her
    fingers flexing against his supple thighs. She turned her head to look back at
    him, her hazel eyes glassy with pleasure.

    More of her fellow dancers crowded in, until he felt himself

    totally enveloped in wanton slave flesh. They kissed and nipped at his skin,
    giggling and whispering to one another. Mark knew he was supposed to be a
    slave, but he seemed to be getting better treatment than a lot of the guests
    who weren't slaves. He imagined it was because he was the manservant of
    the guest of honor, but he still felt like a king at the moment.

    One girl dangled rich grapes in front of his mouth and he

    bit several off, chewing and swallowing casually. Another then brought a cup of
    wine to his lips and he drank from it before she leaned in and kissed him,
    allowing the wine to flow back and forth between their mouths. As she pulled
    back from the kiss, she allowed the wine to spill out of her mouth, trickling
    down her neck and tits. Two other girls immediately leaned in and began licking
    the sweet offering from her skin.

    Nearby, on a well-cushioned couch, Lady Pompeneia was lying

    on her side, quite naked, moaning as her husband propped one of her legs in the
    air and knelt between them, sawing his cock in and out of his wife. She drank
    from her goblet and watched her slaves attend to Bonosus. She closed her eyes
    and rubbed one of her tits as she remembered what it had felt like to have his
    big, sturdy cock fucking her less than an hour ago, feeling his thick, warm cum
    pump deep inside her.

    She wondered how wonderful it must be to own a servant with these

    incredible qualities and envied Lady Aurora.

    She entertained the absurd notion of trying to buy him from

    her, but was reasonably certain that even the emperor himself wasn't rich
    enough to purchase the slave outright. She'd content herself with becoming
    friends with Lady Aurora Horatia and perhaps then having access to Bonosus'
    fine obelisk of endless erotic pleasures.

    She watched as Nanu, churning on Bonosus' lap, shuddered,

    arched her back and cried out, cumming hard. Two of the other dancers were
    sucking her tits and she seemed in ecstasy. Not that Pompeneia blamed her; Nanu
    was rather tiny, and that magnificent cock had to be battering the bottom of
    her lungs. The Egyptian girl sagged, and one of the other dancers gently pulled
    her off and over to the side. Nanu was immediately replaced by another girl,
    who straddled Bonosus' lap, facing him and sinking down with a loud sigh.

    Pompeneia herself shuddered and gripped her tit tightly as a

    little orgasm shivered through her, while her husband moaned and pushed tight
    against her, cumming in her. Standing nearby, a slave helped ease his master's
    cock out of Pompeneia and sucked it clean. The mistress of the house sighed and
    caressed herself, enjoying every moment of this day. What a splendid orgy this
    was proving to be.

    She sat up slowly and looked around, seeing people in

    ecstasy all around her; not far away, one of the guests had a servant girl
    pressed up against a column, and was fucking her eagerly. She was pumping her
    hips against him and gasping in delight. On the emerald grass nearby, two women
    were laying side-by-side, arms wrapped around one another while they sucked
    hungrily on each other's pussies. One of her slender, boyish manservants was
    getting fucked in the ass by a patrician man named Pontifex, and her slave was
    mewling loudly.

    She heard laughing and joyous talk as Lady Aurora entered

    the palaestra, completely naked and surrounded by slaves and guests, all
    basking in her glorious sensuality. She sauntered over to the pool and eased
    herself down into it, sighing and relaxing in the cool water.

    Pompeneia smirked; after all the endless fucking the Lady

    had been doing, she was surprised there weren't clouds of steam emanating from
    around Aurora, as the water touched her skin. She was possibly the only person
    in the villa to have fucked more than her servant Bonosus.

    Pompeneia smiled and eased herself down onto the couch,

    beckoning over a slave-girl to service her.

    "Well, Mark, I see you've won our little wager,"

    Becky observed, smiling at him while two slaves massaged her shoulders. She
    parted her legs to allow a servant girl to massage her cunt, or occasionally go
    under the water to kiss and nibble at it. "I managed six lovers at once.
    You seem to have eight."

    "Only if we fudge," he admitted, looking around

    the dancer who churned on his cock, trying to keep her moaning down so he could
    talk. "I can reasonably do four; one on my cock, one on my mouth, and one
    in each hand. I; am not gonna take any in my ass, after all."

    "Well, at the very least you can tie me," Becky

    pointed out, smirking at him. "Think and try again. You won't even need to
    move."

    Mark frowned for a moment, and then gave his teacher's words

    some thought; he perked up after a few moments, and then nodded. He told the
    girl he was fucking to lean back slightly. As she did so, he beckoned another
    to come and stand upright between them. The slave-girl did so, and Mark started
    lapping at her wet twat while the girl impaled on his cock began kissing and
    tonguing her ass. He paused and instructed four more to kneel by his hands.
    They did as asked readily. He faced them in to one another in pairs, bodies
    squashed close together. He then pushed his four fingers on each hand into one
    of them, while wiggling his thumb into the other. They all moaned, because Mark
    had decent-sized hands and fingers (in any day and age), and began kissing and
    swallowing one another's tongues hungrily.

    "See?" Becky giggled. "Six for six, you've

    matched me now."

    "Uh-uh!" he called out, his voice muffled by the

    slippery twat of the slave-girl on his mouth. "Watch this!"

    The women all whined in protest as Mark stood up, especially

    the one who had been fucking him, but he assured them that this would take only
    a moment before all was right with the world. He got out of the water and lay
    down on the grass, his frame stretched out and his throbbing cock on display,
    pointing at the cerulean sky overhead. His arms were spread wide and his legs
    slightly parted.

    Mark quickly brought the six girls back to their original

    positions, with the girl who had been using his mouth now facing down his body,
    to kiss and play with the one bouncing up and down on his cock. The two sets of
    girls resumed their places on his fingers and thumbs, kissing each other
    eagerly again, enjoying this strange game. He began wiggling his still-wet
    toes, and the last two slave-dancers caught on quickly; they took hold of his
    ankles and lowered their gooey pussies down onto his feet, taking them inside
    their slippery tunnels and moaning loudly.

    "Octo!" Mark yelled triumphantly from

    beneath the cunt squirming on his face.

    Becky laughed in sheer delight, clapping in support of her

    student's ingenuity. Others looking on laughed and applauded also. A crowd was
    gathering around him, but everyone made sure that Lady Aurora, who had moved to
    the spot just vacated by her servant, could see easily. She knelt on the low,
    tiled bench below the water, her elbows on the grass, the endless soft blades
    tickling her tits as she watched. She wiggled her shapely ass, and a slave
    dutifully moved up behind her and slid his cock deep inside her while she gazed
    on.

    Mark was enjoying himself; never had he guessed he would

    have been fucking eight girls at once, not to mention Roman slave-dancers, two
    of whom he was pretty sure were sisters. He wiggled his fingers, thumbs and
    toes, he flickered and snaked his tongue inside the girl above him, and he
    pushed up and down with his hips, spearing deep inside the slave-girl, who
    cried out in rapture as his cock split her wet cunt wide open. She arched her
    back and cried out loudly, cumming hard. She slumped off to the side and was
    quickly replaced by Nanu, who was eager for more. She churned and writhed on
    him, occasionally looking over at Lady Aurora, who smiled and winked at her.

    He could feel them all squirming and trembling now, and

    pushed himself harder, sending them all over the edge; several moaned loudly
    while the one on his face kissed Nanu deeply as they both screamed, rocked by
    their orgasms. The girl riding his tongue fell off to the side, shaking and
    holding her cunt as she moaned in pleasure. He looked over at his teacher.

    "Becks," he panted, his face glistening with cum

    and flush with need. "I'm gonna cum, but I want it to be in you. Please;”

    Without a moment's hesitation, Becky stood, the crystalline

    water cascading off her glorious body. She clambered out and all the
    slave-girls moved aside readily, even Nanu, who dutifully knelt beside Lady
    Aurora as she straddled her manservant.

    "Thanks for waiting for me, Mark," Becky whispered

    as she teased her slippery cunt lips along his cock while resting her hands on
    his shoulders and looking down at him. "It means so much to me."

    "Means everything to me too, Becks," he replied,

    nodding. "Wanna give 'em a show, show 'em how we do it in the twenty-first
    century?"

    The blonde beauty smiled wickedly, and without another word,

    shoved herself down hard on her student's cock, making them both moan loudly as
    he pushed deep inside her.

    Everyone watched in awe as the two began fucking madly,

    Becky thrashing her hips back and forth while he pumped up and down rapidly
    inside her, battering her cervix with each thrust. His hands found her bouncing
    tits and squeezed them, making her cry out, her fingernails digging into the
    meat of his shoulders. Pompeneia and her husband Master Flavius stood right
    beside them, watching in fascination. Nanu was caressing and massaging Lady
    Aurora's flanks and ass while she fucked Bonosus, her deep hazel eyes staring
    longingly at them.

    Becky rode Mark harder and harder, his throbbing cock

    stretching her cunt deliciously, making her want to scream. She held on though,
    squeezing around Mark, thrilled to know that everyone's eyes were on them,
    watching them fuck with wild abandon. With every thrust she squeezed her ass
    cheeks tight, feeling Mark shudder below her.

    Mark was panting and grunting as he fought to hold on,

    determined not to cum before Becky. He squeezed her tits and pinched her
    nipples, pulling on them, even while she writhed and churned on his cock. He
    felt himself throbbing inside her, his cock swelling as his body told him he
    was close. He pushed up as hard as he could, getting as far inside her as
    possible.

    Becky's eyes, which had been squeezed shut, snapped open and

    she went rigid and cried out loudly, her entire body almost warping as she was
    hit by a sense-shattering orgasm. She rocked about as her cunt clenched Mark's
    cock fiendishly. She heard him moan and then his molten cum was lashing her
    insides, driving her to maddening heights of rapture.

    She collapsed forward, her body shaking and her breath

    coming in great heaves. Mark found the strength to put his arms around her and
    hug her. Becky planted little kisses along his neck, collarbone and pecs.

    "We've been taking those futuristic tabs to keep our

    libidos up," she whispered as she nuzzled her cheek against his neck.
    "And you need to remember that it's probably all those extra hormones
    talking, Mark, but right now, at this very moment, I am so very in love with
    you;”

    He smiled and kissed her head. "is' okay, teach, I'm in

    love with you, too."

    She giggled and squirmed against him happily, feeling his

    hard cock still throbbing inside her. "You sure it's me and not your
    little friend waiting so patiently at our feet that you're in love with?"

    "Very," he replied. "I didn't call her to

    share my huge orgasm or fill her with cum, did I?"

    "Hmm, and I'm so glad," she purred, nuzzling him

    and closing her eyes, forgetting there were dozens of people staring at them
    intently. They undulated gently against one another, sliding his cock in and
    out of her slowly. They weren't trying to cum again, but damned if it didn't
    feel good to be making love gently. "Let's just stay here in love for a
    few minutes, and then get back to the party, hmm?"

    Mark nodded, and Becky looked up and asked everyone to give

    them some time alone. Once they had dispersed (including a reluctant Nanu), the
    couple went back to kissing one another lovingly, and whispering how in love
    they were at that moment. They both knew the hormones would wear off, and they
    would remember how they felt, but were confident in their ability to just get
    past it, even laugh about it, this chemically induced sensation of being in
    love. Secretly, Becky was pretty sure she'd almost fallen for Mark a few times
    anyway over the past couple of months, especially after he'd rescued her from
    the Louvre.

    He slowly rolled her onto her back, and Becky's eyes shone

    as he looked down into them, pumping his cock slowly in and out of her. Her
    ankles hooked behind his, keeping him inside her, while her arms rested lazily
    on his back. Their tongues tangled playfully and his hands squeezed her ass
    cheeks.

    "Hmm, yes," Becky sighed, finally sitting up and

    looking down at her lover, who was still deep inside her. She caressed her
    tits, luxuriating in the tingling thrill it brought her. Both she and Mark had
    very active sex drives to begin with, but she was pretty damn sure that these
    little medi-tabs, from some seven hundred years in their future, had kicked
    their libidos into overdrive. "Ya know, I expected us to get a lot of tail
    when we came to this orgy, Mark, but; I am also pretty sure that you and I are
    sweating pheromones, and it's making us absolutely irresistible to these people."

    "Well I ain't objecting," he said cheerfully,

    reaching up and helping her massage her tits and making her giggle. "So
    what's the plan now?"

    "Well, I could spend the rest of my day impaled

    on this magnificent tool of yours," she mused, reaching down and stroking
    her fingers along the base of his sticky shaft as she moved herself slowly up
    and down on it. "But we did come here to participate in an authentic Roman
    orgy, and we haven't been clock hammered yet, so we're doing something right. I
    guess we should get back to the other guests, hmm?"

    He nodded.

    "And of course, there's the matter of me purchasing

    your new girlfriend for you," Becky reminded him, winking. "You won
    our bet, after all."

    He considered: "What do we even do with her? I doubt we

    can just take her forward into the future with us, right? I mean, we got lucky
    with Lady Alexandra, because she already knew Chester Edgeworth. I doubt Nanu
    knows anyone in the time stream."

    "You may have a point," she conceded, wondering if

    the rampant hormones were impairing her normally sober judgment. "But
    we'll just have to see."

    "They told me getting clock hammered can hurt,"

    Mark said.

    "I'm sure that's true, if you do something bat-shit

    insane," the blonde beauty agreed, still undulating up and down on his
    cock absently. "But I think temporal mechanics probably uses the path of
    least resistance. If we load her up on your Holmes Field Device and it doesn't
    go anywhere, it's Time telling us we're not going back with her. We'll figure
    it out."

    They meant to go back to the orgy, but she ended up leaning

    down and kissing him deeply, and they began fucking again. Several minutes
    later, they both cried out and said they loved each other as their mutual
    climax thrashed through them, leaving them trembling, sweating masses of limbs
    and flesh.

    "Okay; okay;” Becky breathed, her head almost spinning.

    "I'm gonna go, or I'll never manage to get off you;”

    With great effort she rolled off to the side, groaning

    loudly as Mark's raging cock popped out of her wetly. They lay side-by-side,
    desperate to touch and hold hands, but knowing better. Becky clambered to her
    feet, sucked in a deep breath, and walked away, not daring to look at Mark. She
    instructed two slave-girls to clean his cock with their mouths and then escort
    him inside, which they did readily.

    Mark allowed the girls to lead him back inside, and they

    departed with a giggle and a wink. He sighed as he took another goblet of wine
    from a servant and then began wandering around, just enjoying the environment.
    Yes, his cock was sticking straight out in front of him, and endless numbers of
    women (and men) were eyeing him longingly, but he refrained, momentarily, from
    indulging. He either wanted to find something new and different, or find Nanu
    again.

    He heard a loud moan, and looked over to a corner of the

    room, where he saw Becky squashed between two men, one beneath her and one
    above, who were both pumping their cocks in and out of her cunt at once. She
    seemed like she was in absolute Heaven. He couldn't blame her; this little
    jaunt of theirs was unreal.

    He needed to pee.

    Mark began to wander through the house, wondering where the

    lavatory was; he knew to look for what was more or less a stone seat with a
    hole in the middle of it, but this was a big villa. He sipped at his wine and
    wandered through the household, wondering if maybe finding a secluded tree or a
    willing slave-girl was easier, because he had no clue how to use a Roman toilet
    with a hard-on.

    Becky writhed, stretched, and then sighed loudly, as she came.

    The slave lying beneath her pulled his cock out of her cunt, and Lady
    Pompeneia, who was kneeling between their legs, took hold of his pulsing cock
    and plunged her mouth down onto it, moaning as he came down her throat.

    Once she had taken all his cum, she dismissed the slave away

    with a lazy wave of her hand, and then curled up on the couch next to Lady
    Aurora, the two of them kissing deeply and tenderly. They fondled one another
    gently for some time, before the hostess sighed in contentment and caressed her
    guest's cheek. Not far away, the dulcet tones of a cithara carried
    through the semi-private nook they were lying in.

    "I harbor no doubt that it is you I have to thank

    for the success of my little party, my love," she cooed, smiling into
    Aurora's beautiful face. "And the day is barely half over. How can I
    thank you for all you have done?"

    Becky smiled and leaned in to kiss the nipple crowning

    Pompeneia's full tit for a moment before asking her question. "My
    slave, Bonosus, has taken a liking to your girl, Nanu. Would you allow me to
    buy her from you?"

    The mistress of the house blinked. "You; wish to

    purchase one of my slaves?"

    Becky nodded: "Specifically, the girl Nanu. As I mentioned,

    my boy Bonosus has taken a shine to her, and a happy slave is a productive
    slave. She also seems quite taken with him. He loves her dancing and how she
    makes love. I as yet do not have a dancing slave. Would you consider my offer?"

    Pompeneia seemed somewhat perplexed at first, and then

    perhaps slightly taken aback. "My lady, I do not mean to give offence,
    but what use have you for a formerly owned slave?"

    "It suits me to see my Bonosus happy, is all,"

    Becky replied simply, caressing Pompeneia's tit once again and making her
    shiver. "It's not like I need a new slave for him when a used one will
    do. How much did you pay for her?"

    Lady Pompeneia thought for several moments. "I; it

    must have been close to twenty-five thousand denarii, my lady. She is a good
    dancer, she was not cheap."

    Becky moved her hand up to caress the hostess' cheek as she

    looked into her eyes. "I will give you three hundred aurei for the
    girl, which is just over thirty thousand denarii within the city's walls."

    Pompeneia's eyes went wide.

    "That is your original purchasing price for her, and

    extra, for the hassle of replacing her. You asked me what you could do to repay
    me for my part in today's festivities, and I wish to buy your slave Nanu. What
    say you?"

    Pompeneia knew she should have at least consulted her

    husband first, but she was reasonably sure he would not turn down such a
    generous offer. Nanu could be replaced easily, another girl trained to dance in
    her place. Her decision was readily made. "When would you want to pay
    for her, Lady Aurora?"

    Becky shrugged and smiled. "If you can be discreet

    about it, I brought the money with me, not knowing what it might come in useful
    for. If you have the slave bring her to me, I will give you the money now."

    Pompeneia nodded and summoned over a young boy, one she

    trusted implicitly, because he was a mute. He knelt down next to her and
    listened carefully. "Bring Nanu here to me forthwith."

    She turned to look at Lady Aurora, who smiled and leaned

    across her hostess, sliding her large tits over Pompeneia's as a tease. She
    smiled at the boy.

    "You will find my effects in a small alcove off the

    posticum. Therein, you will find a pack. It is heavy, but bring it to me, when
    you bring Nanu."

    The boy nodded and hurried off. If Pompeneia had any further

    questions, they would have to wait, because Lady Aurora settled down on top of
    her, squashing their tits together and kissing her deeply. The patrician women
    made out with one another for some minutes, until the boy returned, with Nanu
    helping him carry the sack the Lady Aurora had requested. She dismissed the boy
    and her hurried off. Nanu knelt dutifully.

    Becky and Pompeneia both sat up, and the blonde woman opened

    the pack, allowing the Roman lady to look inside. She tried to keep her eyes
    from goggling out of her head. The gold coins glinted wickedly in the brazier
    lights that touched them. There were many hundreds of coins, without question.

    To be continued in part 7. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts, for Literotica.

    1 hr 16 min
  • The Time Riders: Part 5
    The Time Riders: Part 5
    A Labyrinth Palace.

    Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.



    The non-descript carriage had indeed made its way through

    Paris' winding streets, taking well over an hour to finally stop in front of
    the palace and allowing Mark to get out of the cramped cab before it rattled
    off. The sun had set some time ago, and night hung over the city heavily, the cloying
    air of Paris carrying the city's growing pains to his ears. Even at night, the
    city was not silent.

    Mark adjusted his outfit and marched toward the outermost

    gate of the vast palace, its arms spread wide and encompassing a massive
    courtyard. Two men wearing ornate red uniforms and holding pikes crossed their
    weapons at his approach, barring his entry. One of them gruffly asked him to
    state his business.

    Trusting to the plan, Mark said nothing, but merely held out

    one of his sealed letters, this one bearing the emblem of Richelieu. The guard
    examined it for several seconds, consulting with the other guard before handing
    it back and then opening the gate. Mark shot them both a dirty look for holding
    him up in his errand and then swept inside, doing his best to look haughty and
    full of bravado, which is what the Musketeers were apparently renowned for.

    He couldn't help but reflect that they seemed a lot less

    heroic than history let on and were more dickbags than anything else. Oh well.
    Faking being a dickbag was probably significantly easier than pretending to be
    a hero.

    He passed through another gate that got him closer to the

    palace, this one also manned by the Swiss Guard. He arrogantly presented them
    with the Richelieu missive, which once again satisfied their scrutiny and he
    was allowed to pass. He forced himself to not look around in wonder at his
    surroundings, instead heading straight to the great doors that would give him
    admittance to the palace.

    Alex once again presented his letter, but this time the

    guards squinted at him suspiciously. "Qui es tou?" demanded
    one of them.

    His throat was dry, but he answered as readily as he could,

    trying to sound authoritative and even haughty. "J'mappelle Benat de
    Ferres, of Soule, Second Company of the King's Musketeers under Monsieur de
    Treville. Let me through."

    "Fucking Basques and Gascons," muttered one

    of the guards in irritation. "Why would a musketeer be bringing a
    missive to his excellency, the Cardinal?" he demanded to know.

    Mark concealed his anxiety by looking pissed and rattling

    off one of the phrases Alexandra had given him, hoping it had the desired
    effect. "I have an idea, why don't we all go ask the Cardinal and you
    can fucking explain to him why you held up his envoy on an important errand? Does
    that sound good to you?"

    The two men looked at one another warily; the visitor was

    certainly obnoxious enough to be a Musketeer and a Gascon. Sighing and
    shaking his head in defeat, the one man handed the sealed letter back to Mark
    and they opened the doors, allowing him entrance. He swept by them, calling
    them shitheads in Spanish before the doors closed behind him.

    He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help Gawking as he

    stared at the palace around him; its splendor was beyond anything he had imagined.
    Walls of white plaster, carved in exquisite shapes and edged in royal purple,
    along with gold filigree, and incredible paintings and artifacts lined the
    walls. Endless numbers of servants scurried by, hardly noticing him. He shut
    his eyes for a moment and composed himself, remembering the details Alexandra
    had shown him, the way through the palace. He turned and began his search for
    his teacher.

    Lisette walked primly through the halls of the palace,

    bowing her head deferentially to just about everyone who passed her. Wearing an
    elegant gown, she seemed to almost glide along the hallway, walking with a
    practiced ease that her mistress had taught her. She had, in three years, only
    been in the royal presence twice before, in attendance to Lady Alexandra. The
    king had barely noticed her, but Lisette didn't mind one bit, because this was
    far more of a life than she ever could have hoped for.

    She had, of course, spent much more time in the presence of

    the queen, because her mistress served Anne directly. Anne of Austria seemed
    mostly amused by Lady Alexandra's quirky servant, but she was kind to Lisette,
    often sending her home with gifts of chocolate. Her devotion to the queen,
    while not equal to her fanatic love for Lady Alexandra, meant she would die in
    Anne's name if necessary. She hoped it wouldn't come to that tonight, but she
    had made her peace with God and the Lady Mary all the same.

    Alexandra had set her with the task of removing or

    distracting every guard she could from the route Mark would take through the
    palace. She was not to kill anyone, nor was she to be seen in the mayhem, if at
    all possible. If things went wrong, she was to retreat to the queen's quarters
    and be seen protecting her. It was the best alibi she could hope for.

    A guard up ahead. He was a sullen-looking brute, not

    carrying the long pikes of the gate guards, but a much more practical halberd,
    along with a short rapier on his belt. She knew he'd be trouble. She ducked
    into an alcove and pulled a small phial out of her cleavage, drinking the
    strong red wine from it and sloshing it around in her mouth, to make sure the
    aroma was on her breath. Replacing the phial, she lurched back out into the
    hallway and sauntered toward him lazily.

    "Hello, beautiful," she said drunkenly,

    giving him a lopsided smile. "You must' be off-duty by now."

    "No, I am not," he grunted, not looking at

    her. "Go away, slut."

    "C'mon," Lisette persisted, leering at him

    as she leaned against the wall to his left. "We could be having fun.
    Don' you like fun?"

    "Duty is not meant to be fun."

    "But these are fun," she drawled, as she

    stepped in front of him and leaned forward, using her hands to pull down the
    front of her bodice and exposing her perky tits to the man, whose eyes went
    wide at the sight. "These are all the fun you'll need;”

    He didn't stop her as she sidled up to him, stood on her

    tip-toes and put her arms around his neck. Her breath was sweet with wine, her
    dark eyes glassy with the lack of inhibition it brought on. Her tits pressed to
    his chest, her hips flat to his crotch.

    "Take me into that room and fuck me;” she

    breathed huskily, her lips no more than an inch from his. "I want to
    feel you inside me;”

    The man was rather pale at her suggestion, but nodded

    readily and turned around to open the door. The parlor behind was empty, the
    perfect place for a rendezvous with this slattern. She took him by the hand and
    led him inside, closing the door behind them.

    Mark walked down the hallway, trying to not look like he was

    hurrying, and staying alert. He was entering a difficult part of the operation,
    because he was no longer in an area of the palace that led to either the king's
    quarters or those of Cardinal Richelieu. If anyone stopped him now, he would
    probably be redirected rather forcefully, and he had precious little time to
    waste.

    He walked by a door, from which he heard a moaning noise.

    Then he heard a familiar woman's voice, gasping and urging someone on. His
    translator bud wasn't close enough to hear what was being said, but he was
    fairly certain he knew what was happening. He subtly pushed the door open and
    peered inside.

    Mark gaped as he watched Lisette, leaning over a small

    table, panting while a member of the House Guard fucked her from behind, her
    layered skirt bunched over her ass as he pushed in and out of her. The guard
    remained oblivious, but she noticed the door open and flicked a glance his way.
    She gave him an annoyed look and jerked her head, indicating that she had this
    covered and he needed to keep moving. He nodded and pulled the door shut
    quietly before heading down the hall again.

    He turned a corner and then headed up some stairs, leading

    up to the next floor, which was apparently where Becky was being kept. He was
    so busy thinking about what he needed to do next that he blundered right into
    two guards, who grunted and then glared at him angrily.

    "Stupid shit!" the one man he had smacked

    into spat. "Watch where you are; who are you?"

    Mark went wide-eyed, not having expected them. His mouth seemed

    to work, but no sounds came forth. They blocked his ascent and continued to
    glare at him.

    "Who; are; you?" the man demanded again.

    Mark regained control of his voice and tried to speak. "My

    name is; my name is Benat;”

    Fuck, he'd forgotten his last name.

    "My name is Benat DeFlepard," he managed to

    say. "I am from Sully and I have’

    "What sort of name is DeFlepard?" snarled

    the one guard.

    "I have sealed orders," Mark interrupted,

    not liking where this was going. "From the Cardinal!"

    "Is that so?" sneered the man. "Let's

    see them!"

    Mark handed him the sealed missive scroll. The man examined

    it and frowned.

    "This is the king's seal," he growled. "What

    is the meaning of this?”

    Before the man could finish his query, Mark punched him in

    the face and then pulled his crème-colored tabard over his head and threw him
    down the stairs. The guard cursed loudly as he rolled at least two floors.

    Mark was too late to stop the other man from drawing his

    short rapier, but managed to grapple onto him, keeping himself from being run
    through. Mark might have been taller, but the guard was a veteran of many wars,
    strong and cunning. It wasn't long before he had Mark's back pressed against
    the wall, both men fighting for balance on the stairs.

    "Little shit!" he shouted, trying to press

    the edge of his blade against Mark's throat and slit it. They tussled, and Mark
    managed to wedge his arm between his neck and the rapier, feeling the sickening
    cold pain of the keen edge creasing his forearm. His free hand, however, snaked
    down to the pistol on his belt, twisting the leather until the muzzle pointed
    down;

    The stairwell echoed with a thunderous crack as Mark pulled

    the trigger and discharged the weapon, the iron ball punching a hole in the
    guard's boot and then his foot. The man groaned and staggered, releasing Mark.
    His ears ringing, Mark managed to shove the man down the stairs, following his
    comrade. He shook his head and began sprinting up the stairs, knowing the whole
    palace would be coming down on his head any second now.

    Alexandra was concealed in a secret closet in a parlor not

    far from the queen's quarters, listening carefully. She was wearing the red
    uniform of the Cardinal's personal guard, her impressive bust flattened and
    pulled tight with linen straps. Her golden hair was held in a ponytail while a
    black mask concealed her facial features. Her rapier sat on her hip and three
    customized pistols were concealed around her person, along with several knives
    balanced for throwing.

    She heard the discharge of a firearm, followed by shouts of

    alarm and fright. She hung her head and sighed. She'd been hoping it wouldn't
    come to this, but there seemed to be nothing for it. She would see her
    obligation met.

    Alexandra crossed herself and exited the hidden space,

    heading toward the Cardinal's quarters, determined to cause a distraction for
    Mark as he went in the opposite direction to rescue Rebecca. It was all in
    God's hands now.

    All she could hope was that Mark had remembered what his

    name was.

    Mark raced down the hallway, ignoring people who poked their

    heads out of various rooms and parlors to see what all the commotion was,
    before closing their doors and locking them in panic at the sight of him. He
    had his sword in one hand, his pistol in the other. Having discharged his shot
    already and having no idea how to readily and safely reload the damn thing, the
    pistol was mostly for intimidation purposes at this point. Thankfully, if he
    pointed it at people, they tended to make themselves scarce.

    A guard rushed around the corner, his halberd in hand, but

    Mark smashed the ornate swept hilt of his rapier into his mouth, which
    dissolved in a welter of blood, lips and gum before he burbled and fell over.
    Mark kept running.

    He shoulder-blocked his way past another guard, but then

    found himself confronted by a small group of angry servant girls, who kept
    swearing in French and throwing bread rolls and potatoes at him. Covering his
    head, he sprinted past them, resisting the urge to take a swipe at the uppity
    wenches.

    There was the room!

    He raced up to it and tried to open the door, but it was

    locked. Given the amount of noise and commotion he was causing, he shouldn't
    have been surprised. He stepped back and then slammed the heel of his sturdy
    boot into the door with all his might, knocking it out of its frame and falling
    to the floor. He rushed inside, looking around for his teacher, but she was
    nowhere in sight.

    That's when the heavy vase smashed into the back of his

    head.

    He was on his face on the floor, reality swimming around

    him. He heard someone hissing at him as he was handled roughly by his neck and
    his tunic. He was turned onto his back and someone was straddling him now,
    their supple legs on either side of his throat and their heavy skirt bunched up
    between their legs, allowing him to goggle up at his assaulter.

    "Becky! Stop! Stop, I; Ow! Jesus! Quit Hitting Me! It's

    Me, Mark!"

    The flurry of fists halted and then there was a pause thick

    with confusion. He felt his cheeks being gripped tightly, immobilizing his face
    and then his neck pulled up so that whoever was sitting on him could look at
    him.

    "Mark?" Becky exclaimed in disbelief. "Mark!

    Oh my God!"

    She began smothering him with feverish kisses, still

    straddling him. Still dizzy, he was in no particular shape to stop her, in
    spite of the fact the whole palace was on its way to kill him. His eyes finally
    managed to focus, and he looked up at her.

    "I've missed you too, Becks, but can you let me up,

    please?"

    Becky blinked and then jumped off him hastily, helping him to

    his feet. She still seemed stunned to see him, not that he blamed her.

    "How?" she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief and

    wet with emotion. "You; you were."

    "Dead? Yeah, kinda."

    "The how are you here?" she asked, trembling.

    He shrugged. "To quote Neil De Grasse-Tyson, science,

    bitches."

    "Oh, it doesn't matter," she exhaled, crushing

    herself to him and hugging tight, her body shaking with raw emotion.
    "You're back, Mark. You came back for me;”

    He smiled and hugged her back, his hand on the back of her

    head. "Well sure I did. You're my time-travelling partner, aren't you?
    Can't leave you here with these smelly savages."

    She laugh-choked back a sob and look up at him, her eyes

    leaking tears onto her scarlet cheeks.

    "And we're gonna get out of here and; Becks, are you,

    like, really drunk?"

    Her expression of delight warped into a scowl at his query

    and she pushed herself away from him. "Well what do you expect? I only
    spent the past month trying to kill myself with alcohol while you were taking
    your unscheduled nap, you jerk!"

    "I'm sorry," he faltered, knowing that this

    couldn't possibly be the right time to make her angry, on so many levels.
    "Let me get you out of here and then I'll explain everything."

    "Hang on;” she huffed, stomping over to a table and

    grabbing her bottle of wine, tilting her head back and taking a stiff pull from
    it gulping loudly. Mark made a wan face and fidgeted, acutely aware of the time
    they were losing.

    "Becks, no offense, but I'm pretty sure every guard in

    Paris is looking for me right now, and I’

    "Sounds like more of a you problem than a me

    problem," she grunted, attempting to drain the bottle with several loud glucks.
    "Nobody was trying to kill me while I was here."

    "No, you seem to have that covered;” he said dryly. She

    shot him a nasty look, but didn't stop drinking.

    "Look, we need to go," he insisted. "Pretty

    sure Alexandra's risking her neck to make sure I can’

    "Alexandra?" Becky interrupted, stopping drinking

    to look at him pointedly. "The gorgeous blonde I want to fuck?"

    "I; sure," Mark replied, trying to keep up.

    "Pretty sure she and Lisette are’

    "Who's Lisette?" Becky asked suspiciously,

    lurching toward him. She was quite a bit drunker than he'd initially thought.

    "It doesn't matter," he declared, determined to

    get moving before Richelieu arrested and shot his ass again. "We need to
    get’

    Mark winced in fear as she surged toward him, the bottle

    raised over her head. She flew by him and smashed the bottle down on the head
    of a guard who had barged into the room. His eyes rolled up into his head and
    he went to sleep.

    "Weren't you drunk moments ago?" Mark asked in

    disbelief.

    "Looks like you're the one who need rescuing."

    Becky shot back. "You were half a second away from having an exit wound
    the size of an airport runway in your chest just now."

    Another guard sprang around the corner. Becky, who was

    closest to the door, kicked him savagely between the legs. The man staggered to
    a stop and stiffened, but didn't fall over, the impact of her foot cushioned by
    the many layers of baroque skirt she was wearing, not to mention the dainty,
    padded slipper. As the man gaped at her, she kicked him between the legs again,
    but her skirt interfered, softening the blow to the place where he merely
    doubled over from the ache.

    Becky snarled angrily, lunged in, grabbed him by the neck

    and DDT him, almost as smoothly as ‘Jake the Snake’ did to fellow pro
    wrestlers. This time he stayed down.

    "Jerk!" she muttered, glaring at the man. Without

    a second thought, she used a knife on the man's belt to tear layers of skirt
    away, leaving herself clad only in the bodice and skimpy underwear, with
    garters holding up the silk stockings she wore. She knelt on the unconscious
    man's back and pulled his boots off, replacing her slippers with the sturdier
    footwear. She then stripped his rapier and pistol from his person before
    turning to look at Mark.

    "You ready now?" she asked pointedly, standing

    there in what basically amounted to negligee and musketeer boots, while holding
    a rapier and a wheellock pistol. He gaped at her for a moment, unable to say
    anything.

    "You have no idea how stupidly sexy you look right now,

    Becks." Mark managed to say.

    "I'll believe it when Alexandra says it to me,"

    she sniffed, turning and heading out the door. "Let's go, hero." Mark
    sighed and trotted after her, leaving the two men lying on the floor in a
    spreading pool of wine and broken shards of glass.

    Lisette made sure the guard was arranged comfortably in the

    plush chair, snoring, his breeches still around his ankles, his soft cock
    oozing cum all over his balls. She shook her head in exasperation as she
    rearranged her skirts; no sooner had the man cum than he yawned and began to
    fall asleep. She'd been nowhere close to climaxing when he'd finished. Typical
    male.

    At least the boy from the future liked to make sure she came

    first, even if he was a naïve school boy.

    She left the door open, to make sure his shame was on

    display and then hurried down the hallway, holding her skirt up and allowing
    herself to run. The palace was ringing with shouts of alarm, anger and panic.
    Everything seemed to be going as planned, whatever that entailed. She just
    trusted that Mistress knew what she was doing.

    Guards from various regiments were racing around now,

    getting one another's way and shouting orders angrily. She passed through them
    virtually unnoticed, merely a servant girl looking for shelter. She made a
    beeline right for the queen's royal apartments, and she was stopped by no one,
    since she was known to the guards and stuff. She nodded hastily as she passed
    two guards outside the ornate doors and headed inside the boudoir.

    Anne of Austria looked up from a book to see Lisette scurry

    in, closing the door behind herself and then pressing her ear to the door,
    ignoring everyone else in the room. She then saw the queen, blinked, curtseyed
    hastily, and went back to eavesdropping on the frenzy of activity outside.

    The monarch shook her head wearily and went back to reading

    her book.

    "You may not pass through here!" shouted the house

    guard, blocking Alexandra's passage forward. She had identified herself as a
    member of the Cardinal's guard, using her well-practiced man's voice to give
    credit to her guise. Thought he believed her, the man remained unmoved, barring
    her way.

    "I told you, I need to reach the Cardinal!" she

    insisted, knowing full well he would not let her through.

    "That is no concern of mine," he said coldly,

    glaring at her, his hand on his sword, ready to draw it. "Find another way
    to reach your Cardinal, because if you come another step closer, I will run you
    through."

    "So be it!" she growled as she lunged in, her own

    rapier flashing in her hand. The man drew his weapon and thrust at her, but she
    parried and then drove the point of her blade through the shoulder of his sword
    arm, pinning him against the wall. He groaned as his sword fell to the ground,
    but then her foot slammed into his face while she pulled her rapier from his
    shoulder. He was unconscious, but he would live. She had no cause to kill these
    men.

    She ran down the hallway, listening all the while to the

    commotion that echoed through the Louvre. A young guard barred her progress at
    a juncture in the hallways, and before he was even ready, she struck him across
    the head with the basket of her rapier, knocking him out.

    Alexandra continued along the corridor, but then saw several

    guards rushing into the other end of the hall, outside of an ornate door that
    led to the king's royal apartments. Upon seeing her, the six men pointed their
    muskets at her, three kneeling while the other three stood behind. A series of
    barks shook the area as she ducked around a corner hastily, avoiding their
    barrage. She could hear them shouting orders to reload. She leaned her head
    back against the wall and sighed. Idiots.

    Before they had reloaded, she had pulled a small device made

    of two pieces of flint out of her pocket, along with a tiny clay pot out of the
    other. From the hole in the top of the pot hung a thin strip of rigid paper.
    She held the pot by its flat bottom and snapped the flint pieces against one
    another, producing sparks that caught on the paper and began to burn.

    As the flame made its way down the paper wick, she counted

    slowly and calmly before leaning around the corner, tossing the pot, which
    skated on its flat bottom along the floor toward the guards who opposed her.
    She then ducked back, waiting grimly. There were shouts and the sound of boots
    stampeding, but then an unreal hissing shriek and a bright, flaring white light
    as the magnesium powder inside the container ignited. Cries of pain followed.

    Ten seconds later, the light died, and she rounded the

    corner and strode down the hallway. Four of the six guards had fled before the
    grenade went off, while two were writhing on the ground, clutching at their eyes
    from the flash blindness. She stepped between them and kicked in the door
    toward the king's apartments before turning around and walking away, knowing
    that this would create additional confusion as they sought to find the assassin
    in the red tabard who sought to slay the Sun King.

    There was more chaos to sow.

    Mark and Becky sprinted down the hall, ignoring the

    pell-mell going on around them. Inevitably, though, they were confronted by a
    soldier of the Cardinal, one that Mark recognized. It was the captain who had
    shot him.

    Marks teeth clenched as he rushed forward, ready to run the

    sonofabitch through, but Becky was faster. She threw herself into a skid,
    sliding along the polished floor, hurtling straight toward the man. He gaped at
    her in disbelief, but by then, she had slammed her foot into his crotch,
    doubling him over with a grunt of unreal pain. With a roar, she surged to her
    feet, grabbed the man around the middle from behind and yanked him over
    backwards, suplexing his family jewels with zest. Mark had by now skidded to a
    halt and watched in disbelief while his teacher stood over the supine officer
    and kicked him in the ribs.

    "Bastard!" she raged. "Teach you to

    kill my students!"

    She knelt and yanked his head up, making sure his eyes were

    open as she pointed at Mark, her voice dripping with vitriol.

    "See that? He's alive! You can't even kill something

    right! Your life means nothing! Nothing!"

    She smacked his head off the tile floor and gathered up her

    weapons before looking at Mark, composing herself now.

    "Sorry," she said with a flush of embarrassment.

    "You probably wanted him, didn't you? I thought you were dead, so if I
    ever saw him again, I'd have to avenge you."

    Mark shrugged. "No harm done. Except to him, and I

    don't really’

    Mark stopped talking and stared down the hallway behind

    Becky. Three men in flamboyant uniforms, trimmed in blue and white like himself
    were now approaching them. One had a grim, patrician air and about him, the
    second a handsome boyish charm, while the third towered over the others by a
    head and shoulders, a contemptuous smirk on his face.

    "That can't be good;” he thought.

    Becky didn't even blink. Without turning around, she pointed

    her pistol backwards over her shoulder and pulled the trigger. The bark of the
    shot echoed around the palace and the giant staggered backward, eyes wide in
    shock, before he fell over like a redwood. The other two gaped at her in
    astonishment as she turned around to glower at them. They hastily took hold of
    their downed friend and hauled him out of sight, their duty to the king
    forgotten.

    "That's right, ladies, run!" Becky called

    out, her chest heaving. "How's it feel to get beat up by a girl?"

    "You are so sexy right now, Becks." Mark chuckled,

    approaching her. She turned back to face him; covered with gunpowder smudges,
    scratches and the occasional bruise, she'd never looked more attractive to him.

    Heedless of their surroundings, she threw herself against

    him and kissed him shamelessly. His hands found her ass and squeezed as he
    returned the kiss and she moaned into his mouth. If there'd been a rhino horn
    on his crotch, he'd have been impaled on it. She broke the kiss and looked at
    him hungrily, her eyes shouldering with desire.

    "I'm so glad you're not dead, Mark," she breathed.

    "I can't wait to prove it to you when we get the fuck out of here."

    Mark took her hand and pulled her down the hallway, breaking

    into a run. They weren't out of danger yet.

    "What're you laughing about?" she asked, scowling

    while she allowed him to lead her through the palace.

    "I think that was Porthos you shot," he said

    almost cheerfully. "Becks, you ganked Porthos."

    "Oh, I did not," she hissed, trying to not feel

    disgust at her student's lack of historical knowledge and basic temporal
    mechanics. "Porthos doesn't die until 1670. So if that guy dies, it wasn't
    Porthos. If it was Porthos, he isn't dead. Read a book, Mark."

    "Ha, you said bookmark!" he laughed as he pulled

    her around a corner and down another hallway, trying to reach the point
    Alexandra had designated.

    "Uh!" Becky groused. "Why was I so damn happy

    that you lived? I swear, Mark, I; Ack!"

    They both whirled in panic and threw themselves back around

    the corner as a withering hail of musket fire peppered the plaster of the walls
    where they'd been standing mere seconds before. They scrambled to their feet
    and began running back the way they'd come, determined to not die in some
    baroque version of Bullet Hell from the Matrix.

    "Fucking shit!" Mark yelped, yanking her around

    another corner as more soldiers appeared and filled the hall with musket balls.
    "This sucks!"

    "Ya' think?" she hissed as they kept running,

    their options becoming increasingly limited. "I'm in this too, Mister
    Spotlight!"

    "Yeah, well at least you don't have the Goblin City

    Battle music from the Labyrinth soundtrack stuck in your head while they chase
    us around and try to kill us!"

    "I do now, you fucker! Thanks a lot!" Becky raged.

    A lone house guard skidded to a stop near them and prepared to fire. Mark flung
    his pistol at the man, striking him in the head before knocking him aside as
    they continued down the corridor.

    "What did you throw your gun away for, dumbass?"

    she exclaimed, wondering if blood loss after getting shot had permanently damaged
    Mark's brain. She hoped he could still get it up, if they made it out of
    here.

    "It had no ammo in it." Mark grunted, trying to

    get his bearings, thinking back to the plans of the palace Alexandra had shown
    him.

    "Why were you carrying around an empty pistol?"

    Becky asked in disbelief. "Intimidation purposes? Were you gonna hold it
    sideways when you pointed it at people, hope you looked all gangster?"

    "I plugged a guy on my way to find you, okay?" he

    sighed as they kept running. "The first shot fired that started this whole
    mess, it was me shooting some jackoff in the foot as I tried to find you."

    Becky skidded to a stop, halting Mark's flight as well. She

    looked into his eyes and then hugged him in relief.

    "Thank you, Mark," she said quietly. "You came

    for me, after you nearly died, and we both could today. You're very
    brave."

    When she ended the hug, Mark found she had put her own

    pistol in his hands. He frowned in confusion.

    "Why'd you give me your pistol?" he asked.

    "Because let's face it, I'm a lot more likely to snag

    another one than you are," she sighed. "Let's go, I'm done with the
    Sun King's France."

    Out of breath, they settled for trotting down a hallway,

    surrounded by the echoing sounds of chaos. Things had gotten so confused that
    the guards were all fighting one another now, thinking the enemy in their
    midst.

    Panting, the pair stopped suddenly as they came to a major

    intersection of hallways. Not far away, a confused brawl consisting of house
    guard and the Cardinal's guard blocked their passage. Upon their appearance,
    though, both sides paused in their fight and stared at them. Then a captain
    raised a call to kill them. Without even thinking, Mark pointed his pistol at
    the huge iron chandelier over the soldier's heads and fired. The plaster
    ceiling broke as the iron ball struck at and the chandelier plummeted, crashing
    into the dozens of men before while clouds of plaster dust filled the hall.

    "I can't believe that worked!" Mark laughed as

    they ran down another venue.

    "Yes, it was very impressive, Gene Kelly," Becky

    sighed, shaking her head. "Next, you'll be swinging from the damn
    chandeliers or using your knife to ride down tapestries."

    Soldiers surged around the corner, charging into the couple.

    Mark shouted in fury as they tried to skewer him while they attempted to
    wrestle Becky to the ground. He dodged a blade and slashed his foe across the
    arm before leaping back to try and give himself room. He looked around in a
    panic and saw Becky kicking a soldier in the nuts before punching another in
    the face, her eyes flashing with fury.

    Someone slammed into him from behind and he tumbled forward,

    scrambling to gain his feet. More bodies joined the fracas and he realized that
    they were not only trying to kill him but fighting one another as well.

    It was difficult to breathe. There were too many bodies

    smothering him. He gasped in panic and strained to find room for himself. His
    shaking hand gripped a sword and she shoved it forward indiscriminately,
    feeling something soft give before him. He focused all his effort on crawling
    forward, finally emerging from the churning pile of men, locked in combat. He
    dragged himself along the floor but then grunted in pain as something speared
    into his thigh from above and behind. He turned to look, his eyes watering in
    pain, seeing a man in red, glaring at him, raising his rapier for another
    strike.

    Then a sword point burst through the man's chest from

    behind. His eyes widened, and he dropped his sword and crumpled to the ground.
    The man who had killed him was already moving on to another target.

    Exhausted and dull with pain, Mark dragged himself to a wall

    and slumped against it, looking around for Becky, but she was nowhere to be
    seen.

    No. Not again.

    He ignored the maelstrom of violence and pushed himself to

    his feet, limping down a hallway, sword held loosely in his hand as he went to
    find his teacher.

    Alexandra strode down the hall with purpose, her senses keen

    for trouble. She had caused as much trouble as she could, all the while keeping
    the fray well away from the queen's quarters. She regretted that men would die
    today, due to their poor judgement, but she understood that the girl Rebecca
    could not remain here in Paris. A deep foreboding warned her that almost any price
    was worth paying to see her safely away.

    Sparring with D’Artagnan.

    She stopped as a lone figure came into view, blocking her

    way down the corridor. He wore the blue of the king's mousquetaires, his
    young face etched with determination. His hand rested on the hilt of his rapier
    while he observed her.

    "So," he began, tilting his head. "You

    must be the cause of all this mayhem, oui?"

    "I am not who you seek." Alexandra said

    plainly.

    "I do not truck with liars and I do not appreciate

    being lied to!" the young man snapped. "I would have your name
    before I run you through in the king's. Are you an agent of Buckingham?"

    "No."

    "Charles of Spain?"

    "I have no time for this," Alexandra said

    testily, putting her hand on the hilt of her blade. "Move aside and let
    me complete my task, musketeer!"

    "Then it is death you crave!" he hissed,

    his rapier flashing in his hand now. "I shall happily give it to you in
    the queen's honor!"

    Alexandra drew her blade as her foe rushed forward. She

    parried his initial thrust and then counter-thrust, which he swatted aside. A
    flurry of thrusts and ripostes followed, the two warriors measuring one
    another, vying for advantage in the narrow hallway. Steel rang and flashed.
    Alexandra's sword point tore a vent in one of her foe's sleeves, and she
    followed up with a swipe at his eyes, but he dodged away nimbly.

    He lunged in with the speed of a striking serpent and she

    caught his blade on hers before it pierced her stomach, turning it aside. They
    pressed blade-to-blade, moving around one another in a slow, deadly circle,
    their eyes locked. He danced away again as a main-gauche flashed in her
    hand, nearly shearing his throat open. He spun around her next attack, and when
    he was facing her again, a pistol had appeared in his free hand. At point blank
    range, he pulled the trigger. The thunderous bark of the firearm rattled her
    teeth as she bent backwards, the bullet passing harmlessly overhead.

    Alexandra somersaulted backward gracefully, coming to her

    feet with her rapier guarding against a follow-up attack. A lot of bemusement
    crossed his face.

    "Very pretty, good sir," he said. "But it

    will not save you."

    He darted in again and another furious exchange of swordplay

    followed. His blade kissed the top of her thigh, leaving a shining crimson
    thread on her skin. She paid him in kind with a nick across his cheek, followed
    by cutting the red plume from his hat. He was nearly as fast as she was, and
    his recklessness made him dangerously unpredictable, even to one as skilled and
    experienced as Alexandra.

    Their blades grated as they strained against one another,

    teeth clenched and eyes flashing in fury. With a cry of effort, she shoved with
    all her might and threw him back. He kept his feet and remained on guard,
    irritated by his foe's grit and skill.

    "D'Artagnan!" shouted Athos as he and Aramis

    dragged the unconscious Porthos across the hallway behind the combatants,
    disappearing from sight. This distracted the Musketeer, who turned to look
    behind himself in confusion and then disbelief. He glanced back at his foe and
    then sighed, sheathing his blade.

    "Until next time, enemy mine;” he said, before

    darting around the corner to catch up with his comrades. Alexandra waited some
    seconds after he was gone and then sagged against the wall, sighing heavily.
    She rubbed her face for a moment before returning her rapier to its sheathe and
    continuing on. She had to find Mark and Rebecca.

    The door to the room swung open and Mark staggered inside,

    panting in pain. His entire leg felt like it was on fire, and it was
    maddeningly sticky. He had lost his sword while searching for Becky, but it
    mattered little if he couldn't find her.

    He tumbled into a sitting position, propping himself up on

    his hands and trying to breathe. Everything hurt now, and it was getting to the
    place where he couldn't move. His head throbbed and he was getting dizzy.

    With extreme effort, he managed to tear one of his sleeves

    off, and tied it around his leg, hoping it would act as a tourniquet and
    perhaps staunch the bleeding. It stung like fucking Hell and to his distress
    did nothing ease his pain.

    He sat there panting, when a solemn figure in red moved

    slowly by the door. There was a pause and then the person came back into view,
    peering at Mark quizzically. Clad in red robes and a little red skull cap, his
    tight, lemony features creased in recognition and then disbelief.

    "I know you," the Cardinal murmured, his

    eyes never leaving Mark. "Yes, you are the boy from the field, the one
    who claimed to be a Spanish noble and had the pretty girl with him."

    He stepped closer, still scrutinizing Mark, who tried to

    move backwards, his body screaming in protest.

    "But you died," the elderly man stated. "My

    captain shot you. You died in that field. What witchcraft is this?"

    Annoyance flashed in the Cardinal's eyes now. "So,

    you are the cause of all this tumult. The girl I was to give to the queen, she
    is missing and now I know why."

    He pulled a pistol from within the voluminous folds of his

    red robes and cocked it before pointing the muzzle down at Mark's face.

    "I think it is time I dealt with this problem

    myself, once and for all."

    Too hurt and exhausted to fight back, Mark squeezed his eyes

    shut;

    "I Kick You In The Nuts, Richelieu!" shrilled a

    voice from the doorway behind the Cardinal, the shout followed by a sickening
    thump as a musketeer's boot appeared beneath Richelieu's groin. The man
    stiffened for a moment in confusion, but then his eyes crossed, and he bit his
    lower lip as his skin turned a sickly shade of green.

    While Richelieu slumped forward and then fell on his side,

    trembling and holding the family jewels, Mark goggled up at Becky, who stood
    indignantly in the doorway with her hands on her hips, glaring down at His
    Eminence.

    "Asshole;” she muttered as she stepped over the

    Cardinal and came over to Mark, who was shaking with the effort of holding
    himself up. Her eyes welled with emotion as she knelt next to him.

    "Oh, Mark," she said in a gentle voice. "Look

    at you, you got stabbed, baby. I'm so sorry;”

    "I'll be alright," he managed to say as she hugged

    him to her. "At least you still look amazing, no matter how badly your ass
    has been kicked."

    Becky's laugh choked back her sob and she smiled at him,

    tears in her eyes.

    "Smart-ass," she murmured. "C'mon, let me

    bind your boo-boo properly and then we'll get out of here, before everyone in
    Paris is dead."

    She fixed his makeshift tourniquet and then helped him

    stand. Once he was upright, he took a deep breath and smiled at her. "I
    think I can walk, I was just in need of a breather, ya’ know?"

    She giggled. "How the Hell are we gonna explain a

    rapier wound through your thigh when you get home?"

    "With any luck, Chester will have a little something'

    to fix me right up." Mark replied. "Let's go. If we are where I think
    we are, then our ride isn't that far away."

    They walked cautiously down several smaller hallways,

    avoiding any and all encounters. They chaos seemed to have abated, at least for
    now. Alexandra had predicted that if fighting broke out, there was be lots of
    confused violence, followed by the various guard companies withdrawing to their
    assigned wings of the palace, to directly protect their charges, such as the
    king, queen and cardinal.

    "Bet the Cardinal's guards are gonna be upset,"

    Mark chuckled. "He's nowhere near his quarters, and they let him get
    kicked in the freaking balls."

    Becky giggled as she walked alongside him, her arm through

    his. "You have no idea how good that felt, Mark. A girl could get
    used to that. Maybe we should visit Berlin, see if I can kick Hitler in the
    nuts."

    "One grand adventure at a time, teach;” he said

    wearily, causing her to laugh. But her mirth was brought up short when a
    solitary figure appeared in front of them, wearing red and clad in a black
    mask, a rapier and several pistols on their belt. Becky scowled, getting ready
    to step in front of her student, when Mark seemed to sigh in relief.

    "I am glad to see you are both well," said the

    person, walking forward, pulling their golden hair out of its ponytail and
    removing the mask. Becky's heart leapt as she came face-to-face with Lady
    Alexandra once more. "Thank the Lord."

    She stepped in and embraced them both, all three of them

    trembling at being reunited. Alexandra finally smiled at her friends and
    nodded. "We must still get you out of here, before the guards return to
    some sense of normalcy. Mark, do you still have the place name I gave to
    you?"

    Mark smiled wearily. "I; it's in the little pocket in

    my pants here, but it's probably pretty red and unreadable by now."

    "It's a good thing, then, that I wrote a copy, non?"

    Alexandra lilted, pulling a small piece of vellum out from beneath the sash she
    wore and handing it to Becky.

    "Go to this place," the noblewoman instructed.

    "By carriage, it should not take more than three days. It is a sanctum I
    use on occasion and it will be safe. Lisette and I will find you there a day or
    two after you arrive."

    She then handed two small, round jars into Becky's palm as

    well. "Use these to salve your wounds, until I arrive. I promise you, they
    will work."

    "How can we thank you?" Becky asked, staring at

    Alexandra, enchanted.

    The French woman smiled and then pulled Becky to her,

    kissing her deeply and passionately. Becky shuddered and moaned, her arms
    wrapping around Alexandra and returning the kiss passionately. Mark smiled as
    he watched the blondes make out for almost a minute before Alexandra
    reluctantly pulled away.

    "We need to stop, or we will be fucking right here in

    the halls of the palace," she breathed, wiping at the corner of her mouth
    with a finger. "We will see one another soon, and celebrate then."

    She turned to Mark and smiled before leaning in and kissing

    him gently. "You are a brave man, my friend. Never doubt it, no matter
    what travails Heaven provides."

    She walked them through several secret passages now, until

    they emerged into a small courtyard, under the cover of night. Standing nearby,
    a non-descript carriage awaited them. Alexandra wrapped Becky in a cloak and
    then spoke to the driver while the clambered inside. His instructions were
    clear, and he would not deviate from them.

    Becky and Mark looked out a small window, smiling and waving

    at Alexandra, who held up her hand to bid them farewell. The carriage exited
    the Louvre via a small gate where the guards asked no questions, and then they
    were on their way through Paris. Mark sank back into the surprisingly plush
    seat and sighed heavily.

    "Try not to get kidnapped again, Becks," he said

    lazily. "I'm not sure how much more of this my body can take."

    "But being rescued by you is one of my favorite reasons

    to use tawdry sex as a thank you," she protested, turning to smile at him
    and tracing a fingernail up and down his chest. "You wouldn't deprive me
    of that joy, would you, hero?"

    "Perish the thought, teach;” he chuckled tiredly.

    A time to recuperate.

    Mark had Lisette pinned beneath him and rocked back and

    forth on top of her, his cock plunging in and out of her molten cunt, while she
    groaned in pleasure. It felt so good to have this boy's tool inside her again.
    Her legs were wrapped around his strong waist and her hips moved in time with
    his, taking him in as deep as she could.

    Lisette rarely kissed anyone who wasn't her mistress, but in

    this case, she was making a willing exception. Their tongues tangled wetly as
    they fucked, exploring one another. The tingling heat was overtaking her, and
    she knew it would not be long now. She crossed her ankles behind him and she
    bit at the skin of his chest, shuddering in delight.

    Mark arched his back, pushing as deep inside her as he

    could, before shaking and allowing himself release. Her wanton cunt gripped his
    cock while he came deep inside her, his whole being awash with unreal pleasure.
    They moaned through a frenzied kiss and then sagged together, spent and sated,
    at least for now.

    Moans, pants and sighs of bliss attracted Mark and Lisette's

    attention and they looked off their side; also on the huge bed with them, Becky
    and Alexandra were sitting together, with their arms and legs wrapped around
    one another, kissing hungrily as they squirmed their slick pussies together.
    Their matching golden hair was damp with the sweat of their exertions, skin
    slick and shining. The greedy smacking and sucking sounds their slits made as
    they mingled made the four lovers shiver in delight.

    Alexandra and Becky were groping and fondling one another

    with unreal need, their nails leaving red marks and their fingers gripping
    tight enough to leave welts. Neither relented, though, desperate to cum
    together. The moans became groans and they were panting as they gyrated their
    hips, churning rhythmically in a sensual dance of bliss.

    They pulled tighter against one another, clenching their

    teeth and craning their necks as they peaked, then crying out and pressing
    their molten, gooey pussies as they came. More feverish kissing punctuated the
    climax and the finally both collapsed backward, chests heaving, their legs
    still scissored together. Steam seemed to be rising from their bodies, skin
    flushed pink. The four lovers lay silent for some minutes, just basking in
    their shared bliss. Mark finally pulled himself out of Lisette and then knelt
    over her face, allowing the dark-haired girl to slide his cock into her mouth,
    cleaning their mingled cum from his cock, which she did with great delight.

    Becky and Alexandra finally clasped wrists and pulled

    themselves up into a sitting position, hugging tiredly, but not willing to
    relinquish their most intimate contact. They kissed deeply and contentedly,
    fondling one another's tits. Lisette looked over at them and giggled.

    Alexandra looked over at her servant, her eyebrow raised. "What

    is so funny, girl?"

    Lisette turned on her side and rested her head on her hand

    while Mark spooned in behind her. "I was just thinking, Mistress; you
    and Miss Rebecca look so much alike. What if you are her ancestor?"

    Becky and Alexandra both thought about that, looked at one

    another for a moment, shrugged and began kissing again, their tongues tangling
    loudly.

    "And if that was the case, think about what we

    discussed the other day," she continued, smirking mischievously. "You
    said you had wondered what it would be like to Monsieur Mark's child, yes?
    Wouldn't that also make him Miss Rebecca's ancestor?"

    Mark burst out laughing while Becky choked on her shock,

    interrupting the kiss she had been so enjoying. She looked at Lisette in
    disbelief. Alexandra just sighed and shook her head, used to her servant's
    twisted humor.

    The moment of metaphysical terror passed for Becky and they

    all cuddled together in the center of the bed, kissing tenderly and caressing.
    Alexandra had told Becky all about Mark's efforts to find her and reach her,
    what he had undergone and risked. Becky's eyes shone as she looked at Mark at
    promised to make sure he was properly thanked until the end of time.

    "I wish you could stay," Alexandra almost moped,

    regretting that she had to give her new friends up. "I enjoy your company,
    and I am not ashamed to say I love you both."

    "Feeling's mutual, Alexa," Becky lilted, tracing a

    fingernail across her generous tit. "But maybe we needn't end our
    association. If we designate a consistent place, when you know you are
    available, you can leave a message there. Mark and I will check for messages,
    and when we see one, we can visit you at the appointed time. No conflicts or
    dangers presented, as long as we're all certain of the clear lines of
    communication."

    "I like that idea," Alexandra said, grinning.

    "And I have a gift for you both."

    She climbed off the bed and went to retrieve something. She

    returned shortly with two bottles, which she presented to them.

    "A new type of wine, invented in my native region of

    Champagne," she said, kneeling on the bed as they examined the bottles.
    "Twice fermented and sweet on the tongue, not unlike my darling Rebecca."

    Becky blushed and Mark grinned. "You'll be glad to know

    that in our time, champagne is one of the most expensive and sought-after
    drinks in the world, used in every important celebration."

    "That does please me, Mark." Alexandra said,

    nodding her head and deciding to not chide him this time about telling her the
    future.

    "And now that I think of it, literally, I've got a

    present for you, Alexa." Mark mused, getting off the bed. The three women
    watched as he walked into a large closet, rummaging around loudly. When he
    returned, he was holding what appeared to be several unusual books, which he
    handed to Alexandra.

    "What are these?" she asked, puzzled.

    "Well, the graphic novel is a pictorial history of

    Wonder Woman, who you may recall I told you a little bit about," he
    explained, sitting on the bed again. "And the other three books are all
    written by a man named Alexander Dumas and are fictional works about the Three
    Musketeers. I figured they'd be humorous reading for you."

    She looked up at him incredulously. "But; why were they

    in my closet here in my chalet?"

    He grinned again. "Well, just a moment ago, I decided

    to give them to you. So in a few days, I'm gonna gather them up, bring them
    here to just before Becky and I arrive, and bury 'em in your closet, where I
    know they are. That way, I don't run into any of us. And clearly it
    worked."

    Becky made a wry face. "Ya’ know, I'd say you're

    getting the hang of this whole temporal travel thing, but I'm pretty sure
    you're only getting the hang of abusing it."

    Mark smirked at her and pinched her nipple, making her

    shiver and bite her lip. He then looked back at Alexandra. "And when
    you're done with 'em, you can just leave 'em in our drop-off spot and Becks and
    I'll pick them up. That way, there's no anachronistic copies of
    nineteenth-century novels or twentieth-century comic books lying around to be
    discovered by archaeologists."

    "I take back what I said just now, you're gonna get us

    all clock-hammered right out of existence." Becky sighed, causing her
    lovers to laugh.

    Mark and Becky lay side-by-side in her bed and holdings

    hands, back in their own time and generally none the worse for wear. They'd
    learned some valuable lessons and had made some important contacts along the
    way.

    "Do' you really think Alexandra's my ancestor?"

    Becky mused, looking at her bedroom ceiling.

    Mark shrugged. "You sure look a lot alike, and you're

    both Hell on wheels. I'm still amused by the notion of me being your
    great-great-great-whatever grandfather."

    She sighed and shook her head. "I can handle the notion

    of fucking and falling in love with my great-whatever grandmother, but the
    notion of you as my whatever grandfather gives me the jibblies. Just promise me
    you won't impregnate Alexa and make that come true, Mark."

    He chuckled. "I promise. I have no idea how

    trans-temporal alimony or visitation rights even work."

    Becky giggled and turned in to face him, cuddling close.

    "So, who're you gonna save me from next, hero?"

    she purred, nipping at his earlobe and making him shiver.

    "Oh, God, Becks, can we start out with some really

    ferocious kindergartners from the Roaring Twenties taking you hostage? I can
    probably handle that right about now."

    She giggled again and crawled on top of him, staring down into

    his eyes and kissing his nose while she squirmed her tits against him.

    "Take me to New York in the Twenties and I'll show you

    how liberated a flapper girl I can be," she whispered. "Deal?"

    "Deal." Mark replied, pulling her down and kissing

    her soulfully.

    Count Mark and Becky in!
    I Think I'm Getting The Hang Of This!
    Finally home.

    Mark sat at his dining room table, eating dutifully. His mom

    had prepared short ribs and mashed potatoes for dinner, one of his favorites.
    What she didn't know was that Mark had substituted several herbs and spices
    into her collection, items he'd brought back from his temporal travels. At the
    very least, this meant they were technically several hundred years old, or
    sometimes that they didn't exist in the modern era at all.

    "I'm enjoying this particular batch of thyme that I put

    in the braise," Dhallyla Pritchard remarked as she gently stabbed some
    green beans with her fork. "Mark, where did you say you got it for me? The
    flavor is so; special."

    Mark shrugged. "Another shop I thought I'd try

    out," he replied. "Nowhere near our usual places."

    "Well, keep it up, son," his father said, sitting

    at the other end of the table. "No offence to your mother's cooking, but
    the spices we were getting before weren't helping the cause. Now this is
    flavor."

    "Such a good little minion," his mom said sweetly,

    reaching over and pinching his cheek. "First, you did amazingly well on
    your Physics exam and boosted your overall grade to the place where the
    university accepted you, and now you're an herbs and spices guru. Talk about an
    unexpected change."

    "Yeah," his sister Roxy said, sitting across from

    him, and trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice. "Unexpected is
    right."

    "Now Roxy, be nice," their mom chided. "You

    should be happy for your little brother, he'll be going to university with
    you."

    "As long as she pulls her grades up," grunted dad,

    pausing in eating to waggle his fork in her general direction. "You
    promised us you'd keep your grades up and we'd let you live here rent-free as a
    result, Rox. We're living up to our end of the bargain, what's so difficult
    about yours?"

    "Maybe I should study more and party less," she

    grumbled, scowling at her food. She hated to admit it, but her mom was right,
    the spices were great. Where had the little trouser-snake bought them?
    "Ya’ know, open my mind more and my legs less?"

    "Dear!" Dhallyla gasped, looking at her daughter

    in shock. "Nobody said you were behaving licentiously! There's no need to
    use language like that!"

    "Sorry," the dark-haired girl sighed, putting down

    her fork. "Just been on edge lately. Seems to have been The Mark Show
    around here recently, and I'm not even quite making my grades in Soph."

    "You just need to focus, darling," mom said,

    trying to sound reassuring. "Mark stopped goofing around and knuckled
    under, and he got rewarded. Nothing says you can't do the same."

    She reached for the dull green bottle and removed the cork,

    pouring herself another glass of the Bordeaux her son had found. She looked at
    the mottled green glass, the seemingly dusty exterior, and the red wax they'd
    had to break to get the cork out.

    "So interesting to sell a bottle of wine like

    this," she mused, tracing a finger over the surface. There's not even a
    proper label. Who thought of selling wine this way?"

    "Artisan wines are a big deal, mom," Mark said

    simply, pouring another glass for himself. He was technically not of age to
    drink, but his parents let him at mealtimes. "It's clever marketing, ya'
    gotta admit. People feel like they're buying a really old wine, so it's
    classy."

    "Well, it's certainly enjoyable," his mom agreed,

    watching the dark, rich liquid swirl in her glass. "Make sure you get more
    of it, wherever you got it."

    "Yeah, maybe you can take me along with you next

    time," Roxy said, resting her chin on her hand and her elbow on the table,
    smiling at him. "Sounds like a place I'd show to a few of my
    friends."

    "Uh, we'll see," Mark replied somewhat

    uncertainly. "I never know when I'll make it back there;”

    More ‘Tutoring’.

    Becky and Mark were leaning into one another and kissing

    deeply while they sat on her swinging chair in her backyard. It was nearly
    midnight, and with the rows of trees that bordered her property, they weren't
    worried about being espied. The blue-eyed blonde beauty pressed her impressive
    tits into his chest, humming into his mouth while her fingers reached up and
    tangled through his brown hair.

    Mark, for his part, had one hand resting on her back,

    holding her close, while his other hand had reached around to hold her ass,
    squeezing it gently. She was wearing snug jeans that showed off her
    magnificent, toned curves, while her bust strained tightly against an old,
    faded screen-T that advertised the classic cartoon "What's Opera,
    Doc?"

    They finally broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads

    together, just enjoying the warm night air and one another's company. She was
    his high-school Physics teacher, at least technically. Rebecca was still
    teaching an earlier version of Mark's current self, one that was unaware of his
    carnal interactions with this insanely hot woman.

    "Still can't believe how stupid earlier Me is," he

    breathed, fondling her ass through her jeans. "He could've been doing
    this."

    "Now now, that's not true," she giggled, rubbing

    her nose against his, her eyes dancing in amusement and delight. "You're
    still seventeen when I get to class every day and watch you fail miserably at
    Physics, you know. What makes you think I want to be caught fucking a
    minor?"

    Mark smiled slyly, took her hand and placed it on his crotch,

    making her massage his cock through his jeans.

    "Oh, I dunno," he mused, feeling her shiver.

    "Maybe this;”

    "No, that's cheating and you know it," Becky

    murmured, continuing to rub him even after he removed his own hand. "And I
    suppose it's only a three-month technicality, but I still wouldn't have
    if I didn't know about the Holmes Field Device. I don't care how big your dick
    is, young man, sometimes a lady needs more."

    "Ya' mean like wacky time travel adventures?" he

    asked, grinning.

    "Exactly like wacky time travel adventures," she

    purred as she clambered into his lap and straddled him, her arms around his
    shoulders. Predictably, Mark's hands came to her ass. "I always expected
    to lead an adventurous life, but this is something altogether different. And
    the fact that I owe it to one of the lousiest Physics students I've ever taught
    is rather ironic."

    "I think you said 'lousiest' when you meant

    'luckiest,'" Mark quipped, squeezing her ass cheeks and kissing her nose.
    Becky giggled and nodded.

    "I couldn't agree more; you are one of the luckiest

    Physics students to ever live," she opined, using her hands to gesture to
    herself. "Not often a guy gets access to a playground like this without a
    gold band, you know."

    He nodded. He and Becky were very close now. Maybe they even

    loved one another after a fashion. But were they in love?

    She seemed to sense his thoughts and kissed his nose.

    "Stop worrying, big man," she cooed. "I don't think we're in
    love. I suppose part of me is gone on you, but that's just the euphoria of our
    adventures and all the dopamine you keep pumping into my system. You're seven
    years younger than me; I'd probably kill you after a while."

    "I didn't know you were an ageist, Becks," he

    chuckled, teasing her. "After all, remember the innkeeper's two daughters
    in that little town in France? You sure they were legal?"

    "We've been over this, Mark." Becky chided,

    stroking his cheek. "If they were alive today, they would've been nearly
    five hundred years old."

    "God, I love how your mind works," he laughed.

    "You're so much better at this time travel stuff than I am."

    "Maybe I'm intuitive about it, and a quick study, but I

    think you've got something I don't, and that's dumb luck," she mused,
    casually moving her tits against his chest while they talked. "I mean,
    think about it; I was taken prisoner by Cardinal Richelieu, and virtually a
    prisoner in Queen Anne's court. I had no way of getting out of there, and
    certainly not of returning home. I don't have any clue, yet, of how to build a
    time machine."

    She kissed him deeply, her fingers tangling in his hair

    again as her heart almost raced at the memory.

    "But then you came back for me, after being shot and

    nearly killed, and charged in like some sort of insane knight on a horse, threw
    the entire Louvre into utter chaos, and got me out of there."

    "Well, maybe," he said, almost blushing. "I

    didn't do it alone, ya’ know."

    "That's true," Becky agreed. "You had help

    from Chester Edgeworth, and Lady Alexandra."

    Becky leaned back slightly and sighed, closing her eyes.

    "Now her I'm totally in love with."

    "Even though she's probably your ancestor?" Mark

    teased.

    "Remind me all you like, I don't care," Becky

    sniffed. "So I'm an incestuous time-travelling, Physics-teaching slut. I'm
    having a great romp, thank you."

    "Me too, Becks," Mark agreed, nodding. "And

    I'm glad I've got all the dumb luck necessary to rescue you, because you've got
    the smarts to save me when I do anything stupid."

    They kissed some more, with her sitting contentedly in his

    lap, just enjoying the prelude to the night's activities.

    "So," she said finally, looking at her student and

    lover. "Where shall we head?"

    "Don't you mean 'when,' Becks?" Mark quipped.

    "Try to refrain from time travel jokes, they're painful

    coming from you," she sighed, smiling and shaking her head. "Any
    ideas?"

    "Well, I think Chester's been in touch," Mark

    mused, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a brochure. It was made of
    regular paper and inks, but what it displayed was so very strange. "You
    can, apparently, go on safaris with dinosaurs, if you know where and when to
    look."

    "Ooh, like Jurassic Park?" she asked, taking the

    brochure and examining it.

    "Well, Any period Park, I guess," Mark replied,

    shrugging. "Looks like some company from the far future has created
    amusement parks back on Pangaea in various eras, allowing time travelers to go
    and see what life was like. They've created huge, secured habitats on
    continents to allow for safe interaction without affecting the timeline or the
    world at large."

    "They must be from really far in the future and have

    some really high tech if they're confident enough to do that and your time cops
    haven't kicked their ass," Becky said absently, still reading through the
    brochure. "Oh, look at this, they've domesticated members of some species!
    You can ride on some plant eaters; there's Dromaeosaur races;”

    "Interested?" he asked.

    She pursed her lips: "It's expensive, Mark. It's meant

    for people from the time period the company is from, clearly. And assuming this
    sign indicates the currency, there's an awful lot of zeroes following it."

    Mark thought about that for a moment. "But Chester had

    to know that, and still gave it to us, right? That means he knows something we
    don't."

    "And we all remember what happened last time he

    knew something and we didn't," she pointed out, folding up the brochure
    and tucking it into her bra. "You got shot and nearly died, and I ended up
    a prisoner in a gilded cage. Let's pass for now, and do something a bit less
    exotic but still fun, okay?"

    "I'm down with that; it's not like there's a time limit

    on the offer, literally," Mark acquiesced. "So, what shall we
    do?"

    She made a show of thinking, tapping her finger against her

    cheek. "Well;”

    To be continued in part 6. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts, for Literotica.

    1 hr 13 min
  • The Time Riders: Part 4
    The Time Riders: Part 4
    A daring attempt to rescue Becky from Cardinal Richelieu.

    Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.



    “Your Becky sounds like a very strong woman." Lady

    Alexandra reflected when Mark told of their conflicts in the time journey to
    old France.

    "Actually," Mark said, blushing again. "She

    reminds me of you, or you remind me of her. You actually look quite a bit
    alike."

    She smiled sweetly and reached forward to touch his knee.

    "High praise for me indeed, then. Am I right in assuming that she speaks
    French since you do not?"

    Mark nodded.

    "Then she should be safe inside the Louvre, which is

    where my mistress the queen is currently staying," Alexandra concluded.
    "So his Eminence is playing another little game, to make my mistress feel
    bad by bringing beautiful women into her service? We shall see to this, Mark, I
    promise you."

    "Thanks," he said. "I really, really

    appreciate this. You have no idea."

    "She must be very special to you." Alexandra said

    slyly.

    "Well, we're not in love, or anything," he said

    hastily, wishing he didn't have to keep explaining this. "But yeah, I
    guess you could say we're fond of one another, and she's the only person I time
    travel with."

    "Were I you," Alexandra said, sitting back now and

    taking another sip of one while crossing one leg over the other. "I would
    try to keep it that way. It has been explained to me, and it seems perfectly
    logical, that things just get more complicated when you involve other people or
    try to do too many things?"

    "You don't look at all like you're from this

    time," Mark admitted. "Are you actually from the Sun King's
    France?"

    She nodded. "That I am, to a noble family of ancient

    lineage, going even back to the reign of Charlemagne. But in service to my
    queen, I take very good care of myself and am in the peak of health."

    "No kidding," Mark breathed, earning a smirk from

    Alexandra. "Chester said you're good with a sword?"

    She shrugged in a non-committal manner. "Suffice to say

    that I am not afraid to take on Les Troi Inseparables."

    Mark assumed that she meant Athos, Porthos and Aramis.

    "D'Artagnan too?"

    She laughed, a beautiful, crystalline sound. "Aye, even

    the irascible Gascon. Nor do I cringe before the Duke of Buckingham, who is
    said to be the greatest swordsman in Christendom, barring possibly my
    brother."

    "No recognition for you?"

    She shook her head. "I dare not, my service to the

    queen would be compromised. I am not driven by fame, Mark, but devotion and
    duty. Secrecy is all that allows me to continue in my task."

    "You're like Wonder Woman." Mark laughed.

    She looked at him and tilted her head. "Comment?"

    "A fictional heroine from my own time," he said,

    waving it off. "She's powerful, she's brilliant, she can fight, she can
    fly, she's compassionate. They've been writing and drawing stories about her
    for about seventy years now."

    "It sounds fun," she sighed. "But I do not

    wish to be ensnared in these time troubles, and I do everything I can to avoid
    them. The less I know, the better. Protecting my queen is enough."

    He nodded. "I promise to try and not add to your

    troubles in this, and I'm sorry."

    "You needn't be," she said easily, draining her

    glass. "The debt I owe Chester for this is many years old, I am surprised
    that he has not called it in before now, to be honest. How long has Becky been
    at the Louvre?"

    Mark thought about that. "Uh; a week to get to the

    palace from where we were; then three weeks; and then it took me a week to get
    here, so best guess is four weeks."

    Alexandra nodded and considered. "The initial intense

    scrutiny she would have been under will be relaxing after a month. They are no
    doubt still training her, but she sounds very bright, so they will be eager to
    move her into the court."

    Mark nodded. "Alright, what do we do? Run in with

    pistols blazing and swords unsheathed?"

    She paused in her ruminations and looked at him for a moment

    before shaking her head slowly, saying nothing. She poured herself another
    glass of wine and nocked it back before sighing and returning to her thoughts.

    "Uh, may I ask a question?" Mark said somewhat

    meekly.

    Alexandra looked at him and waited.

    "If; you're one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting,"

    Mark said somewhat awkwardly. "Shouldn't you have at least seen or have
    heard of Becky by now? I gotta admit, she's like you, she's really hard to
    miss."

    The French woman smiled prettily. "I have been away

    some two months now on a delicate errand for my queen, one that took me south
    to Spain."

    "Pretending I was from Spain got me shot." Mark

    grumbled.

    Alexandra raised her eyebrows. "Ah, tu hablas

    español?"

    "Nope," Mark said, holding up his hands. "Not

    goin' through this again. So, what do we do, Miss; uh, Miss;”

    "Just call me Alexandra, cher," she said

    easily. "And if we become friends, you may call me Alexa."

    He nodded. "Okay, Alexandra. What is our plan?"

    "I shall think on that," she replied. "We

    will not be doing anything until at least tomorrow, I assure you. I only
    returned this morning and even the queen does not know I am back yet. That
    being said, you will be my guest here in my private apartments."

    "Uh, okay," he said. "That doesn't sound too

    bad, I guess."

    "It is convenient, for one thing, but another is

    perhaps a bit more personal and selfish on my part," Alexandra added.
    "Be honest with me, Mark."

    "Okay."

    "Would your Becky be hurt or jealous if you and I were

    to fuck?" she asked plainly.

    Mark thought about that for a moment and then shook his

    head. "She'd probably think there was something wrong with me if I didn't;
    to be honest. Besides, if she thinks I'm dead, what's the harm?"

    "Bien," the woman stated, nodding and

    standing. "Tonight, you and I shall, oh, what is that English saying; ride
    below the crupper."

    "Never heard that, but I'm in," he said,

    chuckling.

    "And do not worry, unlike most people of this day and

    age, I bathe daily, so you should not find my closeness offensive."
    Alexandra added.

    "I'm pretty sure you could smell like a federal

    stimulus pork bill and I wouldn't notice," he laughed. "Don't you have
    quarters at the Louvre?"

    She nodded. "Oui, but my mistress allows me to

    stay here when possible, since I am closer to the people of Paris this way. I
    can look out my window, see them and remind myself of my duty to them."

    "You're pretty complicated for a noblewoman." Mark

    admitted. "History doesn't think much of your class of people."

    "A deserved indictment, no doubt," she sighed.

    "Alors, I did not keep you here to bore you with such ephemera, I
    intend to pleasure you before making you risk your life again in the days
    ahead."

    The French Art of Feminine Disrobing.

    He watched from his chair as she slowly turned around and

    began the French art of feminine disrobing. She began by removing the rather
    poufy blouse she was wearing, revealing her shapely back. She was beautiful,
    but now he could see the lines of athleticism in her shoulders and torso, and
    still somehow with the affectation of being delicate and womanly.

    Alexandra then lifted one leg and removed her short boot

    deftly, then reversed her pose as she removed the other boot. Her feet were
    surprisingly dainty, but they seemed to be planted firmly on the floor.

    Undoing the tie of her breeches, she wiggled them down over

    her lovely hips, exposing her incredible behind. She bent over to push the
    article of clothing down the rest of her statuesque legs and in spite of the
    dim light, he could almost see her cunt just below those temping cheeks.

    She stood up straight and stepped elegantly out of the pool

    of her breeches, putting her hands over her bust as she turned her head to
    smile at him coyly. As he watched, she slowly came around so she was facing him
    now.

    If Mark's jaw could have literally fallen off, it would

    have. In the flickering candlelight, she was bewitching to behold. Her skin was
    creamy and flawless, fair and yearning to be kissed. Her womanly hips carried
    strength, melting into her glorious legs. Her snatch was hairless, something he
    didn't associate at all with the period; especially the French.

    "So, do you like what you see?" she purred,

    enjoying his reaction. He nodded dumbly and she allowed her hands to fall away
    from her tits, revealing them. Large and perfectly shaped, sitting high no
    doubt because of her strong back and shoulders, and crowned with small, pink
    nipples that made his mouth water.

    "Now perhaps it is time for you to show me the man I

    will enjoy?" Alexandra said softly, smiling. "Stand up and let me see
    you, Mark."

    He couldn't do a thing about his hard-on, so he didn't even

    bother trying to conceal it. Still sitting, he removed his boots and socks
    before standing. Without any of the grace displayed by his anticipated new
    lover, Mark fumbled off his shirt, revealing his chest. He wasn't overly
    muscular, of course, but he had more than enough tone and definition because of
    the sports he'd played. She smiled and just watched quietly.

    He undid the tie of his breeches and bent over to pull them

    off. When he stood back up, his cock sprang to full attention, wobbling in
    front of him slightly. Alexandra nodded, apparently in approval.

    "Men of days to come seem to be gifted." Alexandra

    stated in a sultry voice as she stepped forward, moving toward him.

    “Or, perhaps today, for you; my dear Alexandra?” Mark

    flirted in a manner even he found uncharacteristically competent.

    He could feel his heart thundering in his chest as the

    blonde goddess stepped closer and closer to him. She was then standing directly
    in front of him, her glorious pelvic mound almost touching the tip of his
    pulsing erection. He thought he might cum right on the spot.

    Her elegant hand slowly reached out to take hold of his

    turgid shaft, the fingers wrapping around gently and giving him the lightest of
    squeezes.

    "And now," she said in a whisper. "We shall’

    The lock on the door clunked before it flew open and in stepped

    a young woman with wavy dark hair and eyes, apparently not noticing the
    activity within.

    "I am back, mistress," the girl chirped as

    she shut the door and locked it again. She seemed cheerful and energetic, her
    green dress twirling about her prettily. "I bought some wine and also
    the soap packets that you; oh! My apologies, mistress, I did not know you were
    busy!"

    "Do not worry, Lisette," Alexandra said

    easily, clearly not at all surprised to see the girl while Mark just gaped. Her
    hand was still on his cock and stroking gently as she acknowledged the
    newcomer. "You're just in time to share dessert with me;”

    Cirrhosis Of The Louvre

    Mark blinked as he stared at the young woman who had just

    sauntered in. About his age, she was rather short, but cute in a quirky kind of
    way, with wavy dark hair that reached her jawline and cheerful brown eyes, over
    which she wore small round spectacles. Her green dress looked like elegant and
    well-maintained peasant wear. She seemed rather surprised to see him as well.

    "A new playmate, mistress?" she asked in

    French, clearly not surprised to see Lady Alexandra naked on her knees and
    stroking Mark's cock.

    "For now," Alexandra said easily, smiling

    at her servant. "He actually is an associate of Monsieur Edgeworth and
    needs our help."

    "Oh, not that pain-in-the-ass again,"

    muttered the girl named Lisette as she walked into the dimly-lit room, clearly
    put off by the mention of Chester Edgeworth. Her accent was distinctly
    different from Lady Alexandra's, more coarse and unsophisticated, even to
    Mark's untrained ears. His translator device was having trouble keeping up. "Like
    our lives are not difficult enough."

    "Perhaps, but we have time for some fun, I am happy

    to say." Alexandra pointed out, not at all bothered by her servant's
    mutterings. "You will be delighted to know that in helping this young
    man, we will be putting the spurs to the Red Duke."

    "Well, there's that at least," Lisette

    admitted, dropping the linen bags she had been carrying and coming toward them,
    beginning to shed her dress and underthings without batting an eye. "This
    one is tall, Mistress. And he has a blank expression about him. English? A
    colonial?"

    "Close enough, my love," Alexandra giggled,

    watching as her beloved servant removed the last vestiges of her modesty,
    standing naked before them now, except for her spectacles. Her tits were small,
    her figure trim, but rounded in a youthful way; and devoid of fat excess fat,
    but not skinny. Living and fighting alongside her Mistress meant Lisette had no
    time for being indolent. She was probably also the best marksman outside of the
    Sun King's army with a caliver. "He is indeed from the
    colonies."

    "And probably from some other time, if he's involved

    with Edgeworth, but I have learned not to care," the brunette sighed
    as she joined Alexandra in kneeling in front of Mark. "Very well, let's
    fuck this one, before he gets killed, or unavailable like the others."

    "Wait, what?" Mark asked, his eyes widening and

    his erection threatening to retreat into his abdomen and his translator bud did
    its job.

    "Ignore her," Alexandra said easily, smirking at

    her companion. "She is just being salty about a boy she liked to fuck down
    at the market, no longer being available."

    "He die of dysentery or something?" Mark asked.

    Alexandra shrugged. "No, he got married."

    "I'm still going to fuck him the next time I see

    him;” Lisette said sullenly.

    "Oh, sorry," Mark said, somewhat embarrassed.

    "I guess I'm in the habit of assuming that you're the only person in this
    time I'm ever gonna meet who isn't riddled with a pox or sexual disease."

    "A fair assumption, my friend;” the blonde woman cooed

    as she began kissing along the length of his veiny, rippled shaft and making
    him shiver. The fireplace kept the room warm and also gave it an amber glow
    that was so comforting and conducive to their current activities. Lisette
    nestled in closer, smiling and fondling his sac gently while watching her
    mistress pleasure their new plaything.

    "He is large, Mistress," she mused, smiling

    slyly. "Nearly the size of Buckingham, I think."

    "Umm, the men of days to come do indeed seem to be

    gifted," Alexandra murmured as she tilted his hard cock up and traced
    the tip of her tongue along the vein on the underside. "Mark here is no
    exception, it would seem."

    Lisette's surprisingly well-kept fingernails grazed along

    his thighs while she edged inward, wanting to be closer to her mistress.
    Alexandra now swirled her tongue around his throbbing head before putting it
    inside her warm, wet mouth. She opened her eyes and looked up at him before
    slowly sliding in his length in one slow, steady motion. Mark shuddered in
    pleasure, feeling her tongue swirling around his length, even as she kept her
    mouth on him.

    His fingers found their way into her lush, golden hair,

    kneading at her scalp, and steadying himself while she began to bob back and
    forth expertly. In the back of his mind, he realized that she was as good as
    any girl from his own time at sucking cock. He shouldn't have been surprised,
    but sex seemed to be the one human endeavor that didn't really progress as time
    moved forward. People were either good at it, or weren't, and the best
    techniques had probably been around for thousands of years, needing no
    refinement.

    Alexandra was living proof of that theory.

    Lisette moved in and began kissing her mistress' neck and

    collarbone, her hands now wondering and caressing the noblewoman's body with a
    practiced ease. Alexandra continued to suck on Mark's cock readily, not at all
    distracted by her servant's touch, but rather excited by it. She squirmed as
    her cunt grew moist, yearning to feel this man's tool inside her.

    Alexandra’s strong lips held his glans and her tongue rolled

    around his purple tip. Lisette's mouth now joined Alexandra's in sliding up and
    down the sided of his length before they kissed around his cock tip, tongues
    flickering and sliding wetly as they moaned. His hands were on the back of
    their heads and he shivered again, lost in the unreal sensations. He felt the brunette
    girl take over sucking on him, while her blonde mistress nipped at the skin of
    his waist.

    "Umm, he has a big tool, mistress," purred

    Lisette before bobbing along his shaft again. "A pity he will not be
    available to us regularly."

    "I think my friend is pleased with you, Mark,"

    Alexandra said, smiling up at him slyly. "Do you wish to fuck us
    both?"

    "That; sounds great;” he grunted, closing his eyes and

    concentrating on not cumming so damn quickly. These two were a wicked tag team.
    "But what if one of you;”

    "Fear not, cher, we will not," Alexandra

    assured him. "I am classically trained, including in Roman medicines and
    can prevent unexpected complications from arising. Or our bellies."

    Mark didn't know exactly what 'Roman medicines' had to do

    with contraception, but she was the expert in this time, so he'd take her word
    for it. From what he'd read, the alternative in this era was a condom made of
    linen, which wasn't even meant to prevent pregnancy so much as inhibit
    pleasure. Hell with that.

    "Are you any good with that tongue, man of the New

    World?" she asked now, smiling at him wickedly.

    "Becky seemed to think so." Mark replied,

    trembling as he fought to hold on. He would welcome a chance to lick cunt if it
    would keep him from embarrassing himself before he had properly fucked either
    of them.

    "Then Lisette will continue to see you your needs down

    below, while I become acquainted with your face." Alexandra breathed. Mark
    sighed as Lisette stopped sucking on his cock long enough to retrieve several
    large, plush pillows and lay them on the floor near the fireplace. He was
    almost in a daze as the blonde noblewoman led him to the scarlet and gold oreillers,
    plump with down and feathers, and then rested him on top of them. Without
    more ado, she nestled over his face, looking down his body, allowing him to
    examine her while Lisette knelt between his legs and resumed wrapping her lips
    around his cock loudly.

    He marveled at her shining, slippery cunt, so tempting in

    the flickering orange light of the hearth. He had now fucked a few French girls
    in this time period, along with Becky, and they were all completely natural,
    often unusually hairy between their legs. This glorious woman, however, kept
    her twat completely smooth, a total aberration from the norm.

    Lisette was almost shaven clean, which he could only assume

    was at her mistress' behest.

    He could see Alexandra's tiny, pink clit just peeking out

    from under its hood, begging for attention. The wet, exquisite heat of
    Lisette's mouth made his belly groan.

    He pulled the blonde down onto his waiting mouth, needing to

    distract himself. His tongue snaked between her wet nether lips and inside her.

    Alexandra sighed shamelessly and squirmed on his mouth while

    fondling her opulent tits. His fingers gripped her thighs tightly, flexing into
    her delicate flesh. She was not kidding about taking care of herself compared
    to her contemporaries. Her scent and her taste reminded him of Becky more than
    anything. He pushed his tongue deeper inside her, massaging her walls and core
    and making her gasp and shudder in delight.

    She pulled at her nipples as she rocked back on forth on

    Mark's mouth, enthralled by how skilled he was proving to be at pleasuring her
    orally. He was quite possibly as good as Lisette, which was no small feat in
    her opinion. Her calves pressed in around his ears, her pert derriere
    bumping against his face. Mark's tongue flickered inside her and he buzzed his
    lips on her, sending jolts through her whole body.

    "Mistress, he is ready for you," Lisette

    said, pulling her mouth off his cock and looking up at her lady while pumping
    her tiny hand along his shaft. "Would you like to fuck him now?"

    "Non, ma couer," breathed Alexandra, her

    body now showing a sheen of sweat. "You may fuck him first. I assure
    you he will bring you bliss. I am fine where I am for now."

    Lisette nodded and moved to straddle Mark's hips, facing her

    mistress. She took hold of his cock, biting her lip as she toyed it against her
    cuntlips and clit. Finally, she pushed down, taking the head inside herself.
    She sighed while Mark shuddered as he penetrated hervery tight cunt. She then
    groaned loudly as she sank down, taking him all the way inside herself. She was
    very tight and Mark made an incoherent sound into Alexandra's twat, making her
    gasp and shudder violently, cumming suddenly. She leaned forward and grappled
    onto Lisette, kissing her greedily as she came. Mark could feel her wetness
    soaking his face, the heady aroma enthralling him.

    Enveloped in a type of pleasure he had probably never experienced

    before, even with Becky, he simply fought to control himself, lashing
    Alexandra's inside with his tongue while Lisette squirmed up and down on his
    cock, fucking him. Her cunt flexed and clenched expertly around him. He made a
    guess about the blonde noblewoman above him and took hold of her ass cheeks,
    pulling them apart before sliding a thumb through her puckered knot.

    Alexandra wailed in unexpected delight at the intrusion

    inside her back passage, pressing down and back against his hands and face. She
    rocked wantonly, genuinely thankful for the meddlesome Chester Edgeworth on
    this occasion. Mark showed no signs of relenting in his carnal assault.
    Whatever courtesies men of days to come were taught about a woman's pleasure,
    she envied the recipients.

    "Uh, mistress," whimpered Lisette as she

    squirmed, leaning backward while pumping her cunt on his cock. Alexandra could
    see the burgeoning shaft splitting her servant-girl's puffy cuntlips wide,
    glistening now with her wet desire as she squeezed around him. "Mistress,
    he's going to make me cum!"

    "Then cum, my dearest," Alexandra cooed,

    eager to see her beloved Lisette in the throes of unbridled passion.
    "And then I shall fuck him and we can cum; all of us, non?"

    The mere mention of cumming with her mistress made Lisette

    moan loudly, gyrating on Mark's cock with wild abandon. She was fairly bouncing
    as the liquid heat washed through her, followed by the unreal tingles of la
    petit mort. She leaned forward and kissed her mistress passionately, her
    cunt clamping around Mark like a silken vise as she came.

    "And now you, mistress!" she panted as she

    regained control of her body, sliding off Mark's throbbing tool to make room
    for the blonde woman. Somewhat reluctantly, Alexandra pulled her gooey cunt
    away from Mark's mouth, shivering as his finger popped out of her ass. She
    leaned down his body sensually, leaning over to take his cock in her mouth,
    moaning in pleasure as she tasted Lisette's cum on his rigid staff.

    Her head rose back up and her mouth left his coc,k and she

    smiled back at him while she stroked his length. "Perhaps you could take
    me from behind, my friend? It has been some time since I have felt it done
    properly."

    Mark nodded and clambered up to his feet, moving around

    while Alexandra arranged Lisette, lying the brown-haired girl on her back. She
    then sank down onto her, their arms wrapping around one another and they kissed
    deeply and passionately, the mere sight of it driving Mark wild. They were so
    total in their devotion that he wondered if they were in love.

    Lisette then moved around deftly, so that her mouth was

    beneath her mistress' dripping cunt, while the blonde woman hovered over her
    servant, on her hands and knees. Mark stood behind Alexandra and settled onto
    his knees. Lisette confidently reached up and took hold of Mark's pulsing cock,
    guiding him closer, until he was holding Alexandra by the hips. She placed the
    knob of his cock against her mistress' cunt lips, teasing it up and down for a
    few moments. Alexandra's response was to sigh and kiss her servant's cunt
    lovingly, making her shiver.

    Mark pursed his lips as Lisette finally guided him inside

    the aristocrat's snatch, with a slow, steady push. Already wet and ready,
    Alexandra's cunt yielded before him easily, but he soon groaned as he realized
    that further in she was as tight, if not tighter, than her servant, who was
    considerably smaller in frame. Alexandra moaned into Lisette's cunt while Mark
    trembled at the exquisite, wet heat. Once he had sunk in right up to the hilt,
    he paused for several moments, adjusting to the wicked sensation. He already
    understood he was no match for this woman's sexual prowess, and he was thankful
    for her indulgence.

    Once he was inside her, Lisette released him and wrapped her

    hands around her mistress' thighs, holding them firmly while she began kissing
    devotedly at her cuntlips, clit. Mark's visible shaft and balls bounced upon
    her forhead. Clearly she intended to facilitate their mutual climax and make
    sure they both experienced as much pleasure as they could handle. Knowing not
    to wait any longer and to simply take cues from Lisette, Mark made sure he had
    a firm grip and began pushing back and forth inside Alexandra, using long,
    slow, and deliberate thrusts to begin. The blonde moaned in appreciation of his
    efforts.

    "Hmm, you are very skilled with your phallus, my

    friend," she sighed, smiling back at him before returning to kissing
    Lisette's cunt and sliding a slender finger inside her. "You do not just
    fuck, like so many men of this day, but you know how to make love. Your Becky
    is a lucky girl."

    "Thanks;” he managed to say, praying for endurance as

    he felt her rhythmically squeeze herself around him with every thrust, even
    while she pleasured her servant girl. This woman was a succubus. Hadn't she
    said she was an agent of Anne of Austria? She'd be formidable indeed. And if
    she was one tenth as good with a sword or pistol as she was at fucking.

    Alexandra giggled at his inability to speak in full

    sentences, resolving to go easy on him and simply enjoy herself. A small
    allowance, perhaps, since she was obligated to help him. She pushed back
    slightly until her ass cheeks met his hips and her wet cuntlips pressed against
    his skin, enveloping his cock entirely. Beneath her, Lisette kissed and slid
    her tongue all over them, lost in a dutiful reverie.

    She realized Mark could take guidance and instruction

    without words, if she made her intentions known. She made him fuck her a little
    faster now by not only moving back and forth, but by squeezing him inside her
    more quickly, a technique she had taken years to perfect, but always to
    advantage. Soon, he was sliding in and out of her rhythmically, almost pulling
    his cockhead out of her before pushing all the way back in. Given his ample
    length, this was a wicked delight for her; fucking his cock was even better
    than sitting on his long eager tongue!

    Lisette was not only pleasuring them, but helping to

    regulate their coupling, something she could now do instinctively. Her devotion
    to her mistress was total. If Alexandra was fucking a man, Lisette was not
    jealous (usually), but simply played her part in making sure everyone enjoyed
    the experience as much as possible. They were practiced lovers who knew one
    another's needs and desires completely, and Lisette now fulfilled her role in
    the tryst with sublime skill.

    Mark shuddered as he felt Lisette's fingers massaging

    beneath him, along his balls and even his taint. To his surprise, it served to
    help distract him from the unreal pleasure if being deep inside Alexandra,
    allowing him to last longer than he had any business hoping to. He began
    pushing in and out a little harder, asserting himself and making the blonde
    goddess moan in pleasure.

    Soon, Mark was slapping his hips against her ass cheeks

    loudly, increasing the tempo to the place where Lisette couldn't readily use
    her dainty fingers on him. She instead continued lapping at her mistress' clit
    and massaging the split lips as he fucked her.

    Lisette trembled as Alexandra pushed two fingers deep inside

    her now, finding her pleasure points with unfailing skill while she sucked on
    her servant's clit, moaning around it. Alexandra squirmed back against Mark
    lustily and onto Lisette's mouth, panting in delight.

    "Oui!" she gasped, gyrating her pelvis

    expertly, the rings of her cunt muscles rippling along Mark's throbbing cock.
    "Right there! So good!"

    Mark was finding his body trembling, the familiar tingle

    starting to well up within him. His thrusts were faster but less controlled
    now, his hips performing an almost shoving and scooping motion as he dug inside
    the French noblewoman. Lisette was massaging her Mistress' cunt eagerly,
    delighting in the mingling taste of desire on her two lovers. She watched as
    Mark's glistening shaft slid back and forth, pulling wetly at Alexandra's
    nether lips.

    "Gonna cum!" he grunted, stiffening, trying to

    hold on while making sure that was what she wanted.

    "Yes!" Alexandra purred, her body flushing with

    warmth at his words. She heard him groan and press as hard as he could against
    her. She obliged by pushed back against him and squeezing for all she was
    worth. She sighed loudly, sliding her fingers as deeply into Lisette as she
    could, shivering in pleasure as her orgasm blossomed through her. Her wanton
    cunt fluttered around Mark's cock as she felt it pulsing and spurting his
    pearly cum deep inside her.

    They heaved and ground against one another for nearly a

    minute until Mark sagged back on his haunches, while Alexandra slowly laid
    forward, his cock sliding out of her with a wet pop. She rested her tits now on
    top of Lisette, who busied herself by tilting her head up between her mistress'
    legs, kissing her cunt and then lapping at it hungrily, her tongue finding the
    creamy globules of Mark's cum inside her, thrilling to the tangy taste. Alexandra
    sighed in contentment, her eyes closed, squirming gently.

    Not long had passed before the dutiful girl had cleaned her

    mistress thoroughly, ending her task with loving kisses of devotion. Alexandra
    rolled gently off to the side while Lisette got on her hands and knees, moving
    over to between Mark's legs, He was serenely staring at the rafters and trying
    to catch his breath. Without waiting for any particular permission (not that
    any was forthcoming or needed), she took hold of his still-swollen but softening
    cock and laved it with her mouth, once again thrilling to the taste of his cum
    mixed with her mistress'. She cleaned him off readily, loving how responsive he
    was to her touch.

    Finally, Alexandra rose to her feet and came to stand beside

    them. She pulled Lisette to her feet and wrapped her arms around the shorter
    girl, kissing her deeply and lovingly. Lisette melted into her embrace,
    submitting completely and with reverence. The kiss finally ended, and the
    patrician smiled down at Mark before offering her hand to help him up.

    "I found Lisette in Provence maybe three years ago,

    trapped in a tiny chapel and being disgraced by a priest. I ran him through
    with my blade and took her under my wing."

    "Mistress has had my undying devotion and unconditional

    love since then." Lisette added in very thick English, the first sounds of
    it she had offered. The phrase sounded almost practiced or rehearsed to Mark's
    ears, then he realized it probably was. Alexandra had taught Lisette what to
    say about herself once she had initiated a beginning statement she'd recognize.
    It was how they protected her in English, because it demonstrated the depth to
    which they were devoted to one another; Alexandra would kill a man of God for
    Lisette, and there was nothing in creation she would not do for her mistress.

    "I believe it," Mark replied, nodding. "I'm

    glad she saved you, Lisette, and Alexandra's lucky to have you."

    Lisette was taken off-guard by what Mark had said once her

    blonde mistress had translated for her, and she blushed and looked at the
    floor. It occurred to Mark that she probably wasn't used to anyone aside from
    Alexandra expressing any concern about her life or safety. She was just another
    peasant, after all.

    "Let us clean ourselves lightly and then prepare for a

    light meal and then bed, shall we?" Lady D'assaut suggested. "Mark, I
    do not know if you are a man of faith or not, but Lisette and I usually have
    about an hour of devotional time just before we turn in. You may join us or do
    as you please, as long as you're respectfully quiet."

    Mark nodded and joined the pair in going to another room

    that was clearly dedicated to bathing, something he doubted was all that common
    in this time and place. Lady Alexandra really was out of the ordinary.

    He watched with interest as Lisette helped her mistress into

    the large, round wooden tub, under which a contained fire was glowing. Easily
    big enough for the three of them (no doubt by design, he thought), he allowed
    himself to be helped in before the two women began washing him, giggling as
    they used tiny packets of powdered soap and their bodies to make sure he was
    clean all over.

    "Normally, to come across water like this is rare and

    expensive," Alexandra explained as she knelt patiently and looked at him
    while Lisette squeezed her tits into her mistress magnificent orbs, lathering
    her. "But this particular building has an underground stream running below
    it, so retrieving water from a well in the courtyard is comparatively simple.
    And I do love to be clean."

    "I can get behind that." Mark agreed.

    "Maybe in the morning." Alexandra quipped readily,

    winking at him. They finished bathing and then Lisette dutifully dried them
    both off. Linen shifts were provided and then Mark sat with his host in the
    study while Lisette prepared a light meal for them all. He'd never eaten a
    pigeon before, but it was surprisingly good. Small nibs of sweetened chocolate
    comprised dessert, and of course there was the wine.

    Once they had finished, Alexandra and her companion excused

    themselves and went into another small room to say their devotionals for maybe
    an hour. Then they invited Mark to come and sleep with them in Alexandra's
    massive, plush bed, covered in crimson sheets threaded with gold. Everyone
    removed their linen shifts and clambered into bed. Alexandra and Lisette kissed
    one another and then Mark goodnight.

    In spite of having two naked women nestled into his sides,

    he slept surprisingly well.

    A Louvre Incarceration.

    The moon was a bright white orb overhead as Rebecca looked

    out the window from her stately bedroom. A tear glistened on her cheek, as it
    had every night since her abduction and arrival in Paris. Not only was she
    stuck here, in the Sun King's France, with no method of returning home, but she
    was the unwilling 'guest' of Cardinal Richelieu, who was seeing her trained to
    serve Queen Anne.

    Worse still, and what truly broke her heart, Mark was dead.

    Killed by the Cardinal's men and no doubt still lying in that fateful field,
    his body ravaged by scavengers.

    She bit her lip as tears started to roll down her face,

    willing herself not to break into sobs that everyone on this floor of the
    palace would hear.

    She buried her face in her hands and surrendered to the

    grief, shuddering as she wept, not caring about the moon framing her in rays of
    silvery light.

    She was so alone.

    Mark had to exercise patience that morning, since they were

    eating a leisurely breakfast and casually discussing matters. But the matters
    were nothing of import, at least not from his point of view; they were not
    improvising plans to save Becky, which was foremost on his mind.

    Alexandra was well aware of the agitation just under his

    calm surface and she finally sought to allay it. She smiled and put a hand on
    top of his as she sat next to him at the table.

    "My friend," she said gently in her impeccable

    English. "Worry not for your Rebecca."

    "How can you say that?" he asked, trying to keep

    any exasperation out of his voice. "It's all that really matters to me,
    not that I'm not grateful, of course. But I feel; I feel like we are
    dawdling."

    "I understand," she allowed, smiling her beautiful

    smile that would drive the clouds away. "But I assure you, she is in no
    immediate danger, now that she is in the Louvre. And as you have already noted,
    she has been there for a month. We cannot simply rush in and storm the palace,
    because we would be risking her life, along with many others, not the least of
    which is my queen, Anne."

    He sighed and nodded. "But you are helping me

    rescue her, right? As in, we free her from the palace and she and I can get
    away, find my time machine and go home?"

    She smirked and nodded. Maybe she didn't blame him for his

    suspicions. "Yes, Mark. That is the only end here. I cannot remain
    indebted to our mutual associate Chester Edgeworth, especially not since this
    is one of his temporal matters. I want nothing to do with them, so leaving; oh,
    what is the term; 'loose ends', if you will, does not suit me. It pains me to
    say so, since I like you, but with any luck, I will never see you again once we
    have rescued your Rebecca."

    She smiled and squeezed his hand again. "Please trust

    me. And exercise patience. I already have a plan in mind, I just need more
    information from the palace."

    "Oh, okay," he said finally, hoping he wasn't

    being unreasonable. "Just out of sorts, I guess. Not a lot of experience
    with the Baroque Period."

    She tilted her head slightly and smirked. "Baroque

    Period? Is that what people in your time refer to this era as?"

    Mark shrugged. "Yeah, I dunno why."

    "In my language, baroque refers to an

    oddly-shaped pearl," she mused. "You might have a better
    understanding of my time and history than I do, in retrospect."

    "I doubt it," he chuckled, put at ease once again

    by her gracious manner. "I never really had much of a head for history.
    Might actually be pretty skewed, since everything I know comes from movies and
    novels written by people from your future."

    "I don't know what a 'movie' is, but I think it's best

    I not either," she mentioned, stroking his wrist. "Once Lisette has
    finished serving dejeuner, she will proceed to the palace to see what
    she can find out. While it is known that I am back in Paris, I do not want to
    appear just yet for my royal duties. Maybe later today or tomorrow. While the
    Cardinal cannot absolutely confirm that I am more than a lady-in-waiting for
    the Queen, I wish to not give him any reason to start looking."

    "Fair enough," Mark allowed. "So, what'll we

    do until then?"

    "While I could indeed provide endless hours of pleasant

    discourse for you, I think that would not be the best idea, since you are a man
    of tomorrow." Alexandra pointed out. "And, to be honest, I am rather
    smitten with your lovely cock at the moment. So, I was thinking that we might
    continue to fuck one another until it is time for us to undertake your
    mission."

    Mark laughed. "Yeah, I'm good with that. "Becky

    would think I had gone totally stupid if I didn't agree to kill time that
    way."

    "I do not know her yet and I think I love her,"

    Alexandra mused, smirking. Her sapphire eyes glittered with delight. "We
    shall make the most of our time together."

    They went back to eating their breakfast, prepared by

    Lisette, and if Mark found the fare unusual, he certainly couldn't complain
    about the taste. Sausages, hearty bread, along with some vegetables and a
    broth. A new delicacy to the Sun King's France, Chantilly cream, rounded out
    the meal, and she promised him that later they would share of bottle of a very
    special new type of wine, from the region of Champagne.

    Lisette had dressed and excused herself, heading off to the

    Louvre to find out information for her Mistress. This left Mark alone with
    Alexandra, and if he was feeling any awkwardness, she certainly wasn't. She
    smiled and shed her clothes, exposing her glorious body. She took him by the
    hand and led him back to her bedroom, smiling at him.

    "Not to seem indelicate, Mark, but; have you ever

    fucked a girl in her behind before?" she asked.

    He nodded. "Done it with Becky more than a few times

    recently. And yeah, I'd really like to fuck yours."

    She smiled, pleased with his response. "Excellent, it

    has been a while for me, at least since a man has done it to me."

    "Lisette certainly has her uses." Mark chuckled.

    "More than you can ever know, my friend," she

    agreed as she stood in front of him and helped remove his clothing. She was
    close enough that her tits pressed to his chest, her hips touched his and her
    cunt was nestled against his cock, which was beginning to swell. She looked up
    into his eyes, her own glinting with desire. "I look forward to feeling
    you in my ass, Mark."

    She put her arms around him and pressed her lips to his,

    kissing him deeply. He was thrilled by her assertiveness, even if she wasn't
    being dominant. His own hands rested on her hips before starting to wander
    around her divine form, finally finding her ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging
    them, making Alexandra moan.

    "What I am starting to appreciate about you men of the

    future is that you enjoy lovemaking and carnal activity for its own sake,"
    she purred, one of her hands now sliding down to find his cock and stroking it.
    "You seem free of the confines of the church's strictures, proscribing
    pleasure through sexual activity."

    "Not much point in doing it if you don't enjoy

    it," he agreed, shivering as her nipples poked against his chest while she
    squirmed her tits around. She bit his lower lip and tugged back on it, wiggling
    her ass cheeks against his hands. "And you seem to enjoy it a lot for
    someone from this time."

    She broke their kiss to look up at him again, her eyes flashing

    with her growing to fuck. Her hand was fondling his cock, which was now rigid
    and pulsing. "In my service to the queen, sex is often a weapon I employ.
    I am required to be proficient in its use to defend her and the realm."

    "Lucky me," he breathed as she knelt in front of

    him, dragging her opulent tits down his torso before arriving at his phallus.
    He shuddered as she began kissing his cockhead before slowly sliding him into
    her mouth and down her throat. "Uh, God. Beck; I mean, Alexandra."

    She giggled and pulled her mouth off his cock to look up at

    him in amusement, her hands still stroking. "Our techniques are that
    similar? It took much training for me to be this good, if the women of your
    time are this competent with ease, then I am jealous."

    She buried his cock in her mouth again, bobbing back and

    forth lustily and making him shiver and grasp at her golden locks. Her own hand
    snaked down between her legs and began playing with her increasingly wet cunt,
    teasing it. She knew they had at least a few hours before Lisette's return and
    she intended to make the most of them.

    Mark groaned and fought to control himself, little or no

    match for her exquisite technique. He knew he'd have to fuck her soon, or he'd
    be cumming in her mouth. And he was really looking forward to fucking her ass,
    as she intended.

    "Hmm," she purred, popping her mouth off of his

    cock and smiling slyly while sliding her tongue up the underside as she held it
    up. "Would you care for a chance to reciprocate, lover?"

    He nodded, and she stood before pulling him onto the bed.

    She laid him on his back and then crawled over him, facing down his body. She
    didn't suck on him again, so much as she toyed with his cock to keep him hard,
    while allowing him to kiss and lick her slick, pliant snatch. Mark buried his
    tongue inside her and Alexandra moaned loudly, pumping his cock.

    Mark slid his tongue in and out of her, marveling at her

    taste. He also began teasing her little knot, slipping the tip of his finger
    into her ass, making her groan shamelessly. She wriggled back against him, her
    glorious behind swaying above his face while her cunt pressed to his mouth.

    His finger pushed further inside her ass, wiggling about,

    exploring her. He gently added another and she keen as his fingers stretched
    her knot, preparing her for his cock. She was gasping now, her body incredibly
    warm and her skin flush with desire. She lunged his cock back into her mouth
    again, bobbing up and down hungrily.

    She pulled herself off his tongue and fingers, squirming

    down his body until she was straddling his cock. She eagerly slid his throbbing
    cock inside her cunt, causing him to stiffen and arch his back. She rode up and
    down lustily on him, while reaching back and pulling her ass cheeks apart. Mark
    took the hint and began fingering her puckered hole again, making sure it
    stayed limber and ready to receive him when she was ready.

    He shuddered as she squeezed herself around him, rippling

    her cunt wickedly until they were both sweating and shaking. Then she looked
    back at him and he nodded. She pulled off his cock and spun herself around, now
    facing him. She put on hand on his chest to steady herself, while the other
    reached back and took hold of his tool, helping to guide it to her quivering
    notch. Her felt it press against her ring, slippery with her cunt juices and
    then popping through readily. Alexandra sighed as she slowly but steadily
    settled down, taking him inside her back passage. Within seconds, he was buried
    to the hilt inside her. They both sat still for several seconds, just reveling
    in the feel of their union.

    Alexandra began slowly moving up and down, Mark's cock

    sliding inside her ass. She pulled up until only the head was inside her, then
    sank back down, taking him all the way back in. Mark's hands moved up to her
    opulent tits and began caressing and squeezing them. She murmured in pleasure
    at his touch and clenched her cheeks, squeezing him tightly inside herself.

    "Yes, I will certainly miss this," she breathed,

    her eyes closed. "You are so deep inside me."

    He pushed his hips up and down in rhythm with her movements,

    his fingers now rolling around her nipples, pinching and tugging on them, the
    sting sending taboo thrills lancing through her. Her fingernails pressed
    against the skin of his chest before she leaned down and kissed him heatedly,
    their tongues tangling. The change in the angle of penetration meant she rocked
    back and forth along his length now. His hands moved down to cup her ass cheeks
    again, massaging them in circles and pulling them apart, making her whimper in
    delight.

    Their bodies churned and writhed against one another

    heatedly, mingling in pleasure. Their kissing became more fevered as tingling
    warmth enveloped them both. Then panted through the kiss, with Mark bracing his
    legs to thrust himself up deeper inside her while she braced her hands outside
    his shoulders and pushed back against him, burying his cock deeper in her ass
    than ever. Sweat shone on their skin as she pulled back from the kiss and
    started down into his eyes.

    Mark shook uncontrollably and groaned loudly, pushing up

    with all his might. Alexandra sighed and sat up tall, sinking onto him as he
    began pumping his cum into her ass. Her knot clenched greedily, throbbing
    around him as he filled her tight confines with his essence. She massaged her
    cunt frantically, her fingers flying over her clit. She bathed his groin with
    her cum. Colors swirled behind her eyes as the climax permeated her being. She
    couldn't remember the last time a man had made her cum so hard.

    Not since;

    She shuddered and collapsed on top of Mark, trembling. He

    lay beneath her, his hands tiredly coming to rest on her lower back. They lay
    in exhausted bliss together, unwilling to move. His cock throbbed in her ass,
    which gripped him possessively, unwilling to relinquish his prize. He showed no
    sign of softening, which she was thankful for, since she was deliciously pinned
    to him.

    A full hour-hour passed before they stirred. She smiled down

    at him before kissing him again. She rocked on his stiff cock before slowly
    pulling off and then laying on her side, pressed to him. She kissed his jaw,
    whispering words of gratefulness to him.

    She felt the need to do so, since there was a distinct

    possibility that these might be his last days alive, given the danger they
    would face in rescuing Rebecca.

    Alexandra had sworn to try and help him, and she would do

    everything she could, so long as it did not compromise her service to the
    queen. She couldn't tell him exactly how much planning and detail this required
    as a result, since letting the silly boy know the extreme danger he was about
    to face might make him balk at a crucial moment and then death was inevitable.
    She could only hope that his excellent physical health and desperation would
    see him through. It was all they had.

    Lisette would be back soon, and it would time to plan their

    mission.

    God help us all.

    Rebecca sat in her chair at the small desk of her bedroom,

    scowling as she drained her glass of red wine, the fourth she'd had in the past
    hour. She knew she was drunk, but she was too sullen and angry to feel it.
    She'd done little except drink since she'd been brought to the Louvre. Except
    for when she was heading to bed, she was rarely alone, surrounded by women who
    dressed her as a lady of the court and attempted to train her in her duties.

    She proved predictably reticent, although she had stopped

    punching her handlers over the last week or so. It wasn't their fault, after
    all. A few of them seemed worried about her well-being if she continued to
    prove so difficult, but Becky was mostly beyond caring.

    What did she have to look forward to, now? Life amongst

    these backward, stymphian midgets? She had a distinct feeling she was better
    off dead.

    She sighed and opened another bottle, pouring her fifth

    glass of the evening. Oblivion in wine was all she looked forward to.

    "Oh, there you are. I was hoping to meet you;”

    lilted an attractive voice from her door.

    Facing away from the entrance to her room, Becky looked up

    into the mirror on the wall, and saw a striking silhouette standing in the
    entranceway. A tall woman in a burgeoning gown stood there, apparently waiting
    for permission to enter. Slowly she turned around, hoping her eyes weren't too
    bleary with wine and grief.

    She rose from her chair and stood quietly, holding her hands

    primly in front of herself. She dipped her knees slightly in a curtsey, just in
    case this was Anne of Austria.

    The figure came into the room slowly, approaching her. The

    lamps and candle finally illumined her, and Becky's breath was taken away; the
    woman was stunning! Golden blonde hair spilled down her back, while her
    sapphire eyes gleamed with a sensual intelligence. Her face was classically
    beautiful and her impressive bust sat high inside her dress, the cleavage
    prominently displayed, as was typical of the court. Becky felt a tingle inside
    herself as she approached.

    "You are Rebecca, oui?" the woman asked,

    her voice glorious in Becky's ears. She stopped in front her and smiled
    dazzlingly before returning the curtsey. "I am Alexandra D'assaut, one
    of her majesty's ladies. I am pleased to finally meet you."

    "I; it is a pleasure to meet you, too, my

    lady." Becky said falteringly. This woman was more beautiful than she
    thought possible for someone of this era.

    "I know you are new to the palace, and it is rumored

    that the circumstances of your arrival were less than ideal,"
    continued Alexandra. "You are even more beautiful than I have been
    told, Rebecca, and I sense a great sadness in you."

    She stepped even closer to Becky, who bit her lip and

    swallowed slightly. Their tits were almost touching, and she could feel her
    heart thumping in her chest.

    "But I say to you now, my friend, despair not and

    take heart," Alexandra said in a voice barely above a whisper, as if
    what she was saying was a secret meant only for Rebecca. "The days to
    come will give you hope."

    Becky didn't know what this woman meant, but she wanted to

    believe her. The ache in her heart lessened slightly. They stared into one
    another's blue eyes quietly, lost in what they saw.

    And then Alexandra leaned in and pressed her lips to

    Becky's, kissing her gently. Becky did not retreat from the kiss, although it
    was a second or two before she could react. She then moaned slightly and
    returned the kiss. The two women moved closer, tits pressing as they held one
    another by the arms and continued to kiss. Becky trembled, thrilling to the
    intimacy they shared.

    Alexandra pulled back from the kiss, a tempting strand of

    desire hanging between their lips. They both breathed as they stared, but she
    finally smiled and delicately used her finger to wipe the strand from their
    lips.

    "You will see me again soon, my friend,"

    she cooed, her fingers gently caressing Becky's cheek. "I look forward
    to our reacquaintance."

    She backed up two steps and curtseyed gracefully, compelling

    Becky to hastily do the same, before she turned and glided out of the room,
    like a vision. Becky unsteadily sat back in her chair and let out a heavy sigh.
    Her heart was still pounding, and for the first time in weeks, she felt
    something other than heartache.

    Becky turned back to her bottle, trying to distract herself

    from the unexpected throb in her loins.

    "Your majesty." Alexandra said reverently,

    her curtsey deep and formal. "I have come to speak with you about a
    matter of some concern."

    Sitting in an ornate chair in the lavish boudoir, Anne of

    Austria, probably the most famous woman in Christendom, smiled at her trusted
    servant. "You have only just returned from Spain, my dearest Alexandra,
    and you have yet another matter to bring before me?"

    Alexandra nodded humbly, her hands in her lap. "Yes,

    my queen. Though it pains me to do so, I must beg a boon and ask you to trust
    me."

    "My trust in you is implicit, Alexandra D'Assaut,

    and needs no confirmation. Has it ever?" the queen intoned, gesturing
    for Alexandra to approach her, while waving for her attendants to live them
    alone. The two women curtseyed and exited quickly. Alexandra knelt in front of
    Anne and put her hand on the queen's knee in supplication, not looking up.

    "Your majesty, a beautiful young woman has recently

    been added to your retinue, and is set to enter your service within the next
    few weeks."

    Anne smiled and nodded. "I have not met her, but I

    am told she is quite possibly the only woman in France who rivals you in
    beauty. Her name is Rebecca, oui?"

    "Just so, my queen." Alexandra confirmed.

    "Do you wish for her to serve directly under you as

    a lady of the court?" Anne asked, knowing full well that Alexandra
    also enjoyed the company of woman, not merely men.

    "She is indeed breathtaking to behold, my queen, but

    no, that is not my request of you. The girl, Rebecca, do you know how she was brought
    to Paris?"

    Anne considered. "The rumor is that she was found by

    the Cardinal, who was convinced she would make a magnificent addition to my
    household. She did not come willingly, initially, and has proven somewhat
    intractable since."

    Alexandra nodded. "It is as you say, your majesty.

    But I know something about this woman that not even the Cardinal knows or can
    begin to guess at."

    The queen frowned slightly. "She is not a danger to

    us, is she?"

    "Not as such, no," Alexandra admitted. "But

    please accept my word on faith that we have no right to her and must not keep
    her."

    Anne tilted her head. "Is she secretly a member of a

    royal family?"

    "Not at all, no, but her presence in Paris, in

    France, is a source of complication that even I could not save us from."
    Alexandra said, her voice betraying the seriousness of her words.

    "And you feel I would be best off knowing what this

    danger is," mused the queen. "Do you need to kill her,
    Alexandra?"

    Alexandra finally smiled and looked up at the queen. "No,

    your majesty. But I will tell you now, that I must spirit her away from Paris,
    and the Cardinal will not take kindly to this action. The next few nights in
    the palace may be; tumultuous."

    Anne could not help but smirk. Though the Queen and Cardinal

    were both devoted servants of the king, they were not allies and frequently at
    odds. Few things brought Anne more joy than to cause consternation for
    Richelieu.

    "Do what you must, my beautiful Alexa," she

    said finally. "As in all things, you have my trust and blessing."

    "Your majesty, thank you;” Alexandra said,

    taking the queen's proffered hand and kissing it reverently.

    "Go on, then, silly girl," Anne giggled. "We

    mustn't keep the good Cardinal waiting."

    Alexandra stood and curtseyed deeply, before backing up and

    then turning and exiting the room. The queen sat quietly for some time,
    wondering what danger was posed by this girl, which her most trusted agent had
    mentioned. She was aware that Alexa knew things that few people alive were
    privy to, and for her to ask for total trust was no small thing.

    "God bless you and protect you, Alexandra,"

    she thought, sighing at how helpless she felt. "Where would I, where
    would France be, without you to defend it?"

    Planning an exit.

    "What you need to understand, Mark, is that Lisette and

    I will be aiding you in every way we can," Alexandra explained as she
    helped dress him in his attire meant to get him into the palace. "But we
    cannot be seen fighting for you under any circumstances. Not only would it
    jeopardize the queen, but it would not benefit your cause any, because the
    Cardinal, in his wrath, would call all of Paris down on our heads. Our one hope
    lies in misdirection and confusion."

    Mark nodded, holding his arms out to the sides while his

    host and her servant fixed the ties on his sleeves in place. He had been
    relieved when Alexandra informed him that she'd found Becky and she was fine,
    if desperate to escape. "You're dressing me up as a musketeer? Aren't they
    a little too famous for me to pull this off?"

    Alexandra smiled. "The history and propaganda of your

    own era seems to have idealized them beyond their actual station, my friend.
    The Musketeers, as you seem to know them, are a junior regiment in the king's
    service, known for their boisterousness and elan, but hardly socially
    prominent. No, the palace itself is watched by the Garde-du-Corps and
    the Cent Suisse. And trust me, Mark, you do not want to get on the wrong
    side of the Swiss Guard."

    "So if I'm a nobody, how do I prevent any somebody from

    giving me a very thorough anal probe?" he asked, watching as they fixed a
    colorful sash around his waist, along with a baldric.

    "You will be given two missives, one with the royal

    seal of the king, and another with the seal of the Cardinal," she
    explained. "If anyone stops you, do not speak, simply show them one
    letter or the other, depending on whom you are confronted by, and act
    impatient, as if they are holding up your mission. Let the seals do the work
    for you, Mark."

    "Okay, that sounds good in theory, but;”

    She nodded. "No battle plan survives contact with the

    enemy. If things 'go to Hell', to borrow a phrase from your time, I assure you,
    Lisette and I will be ready. I will teach you some helpful phrases, to be used
    if necessary. Your only goal at that point is to reach Rebecca, who will be in
    the room I have shown you on the map of the palace, and then to make it to the Cour
    Caree, where a non-descript carriage will be waiting to take you to a safe
    place of mine."

    "Wait, what's gonna happen to you and Lisette?" he

    asked, clearly concerned as they fitted him with a belt now.

    Alexandra smiled and touched his cheek with her hand.

    "You needn't worry, Mark. We have been in tighter fixes than this, I
    assure you. My determination to be free of Chester's debt is motivation enough
    to make sure this plan succeeds in a spectacular manner."

    They had gone over the plan she'd devised, and she had made

    him memorize the route he would take through the palace, once he had been
    admitted. She had taught him some basic bur essential French phrases, making
    sure that he spoke them flawlessly, all on the hope he would never need to use
    them. So much of this depended on Mark's willingness to stick to the initial
    plan. Could this undisciplined boy from the future be trusted to do so?

    Lastly, they fitted him with his tabard, the blue trimmed

    with white and the fleur-de-lis, indicating his membership in the
    Musketeers. She deemed it unlikely he would run into any actual Musketeers
    inside the palace, since their own headquarters was some blocks away on the Rue
    de Siene.

    "Cool, I get a rapier and a pistol?" he remarked

    in excitement as they slid the sword into its scabbard and a wheellock pistol
    into a holster.

    "With any luck, you will not need to try and use

    them," she answered somewhat grimly. "Because I am willing to bet
    that even the most junior scullery maid in the royal kitchens would prove
    better with a blade than you, my friend."

    Mark grunted and looked put off, but he needed to hear the

    truth. These were not meant to be weapons, except as a very last resort. They
    were props to get him to Rebecca.

    "Now," Alexandra said, standing in front of him

    and smoothing any wrinkles out of his shirt. "What is your name?"

    "Mark."

    She closed her eyes for a moment before speaking again.

    "No. What is your name that I have given you for this little caper of
    ours?"

    "Oh, uh; Benat."

    "Yes," she confirmed, thankful that he had

    remembered at least that much. "You are Benat du Ferres, of Soule, from
    the south of the realm, near the Spanish border, which accounts from your
    almost incomprehensible accent when you speak. With any luck, it should annoy
    people you speak with so badly that they'll dismiss you quickly and send you on
    your way."

    "Mademoiselle From Armentiers." Mark mused,

    smirking. Alexandra gave him a quizzical look. "Nothing, just a song from
    my own era."

    "Wildly inaccurate, then, since I have been to

    Armentiers and there are no ladies to be found, I assure you." Alexandra
    sighed. "Anyhoo, we are about as ready as we can be without over-planning.
    I still have a few matters to prepare on my own behalf, so Lisette will see you
    down to the carriage that will take you to the palace."

    She embraced him now, her arms holding him close and her

    mouth on his neck, giving him a kiss. Mark stiffened for a moment but then
    returned the hug.

    "Have faith, Mark," she whispered. "All will

    be well. If I have my way, Lisette and I will see you and Becky before you
    return to your own time."

    She released him and turned to walk into her study. Lisette

    put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her and she smiled
    prettily.

    "Let us go, young master," she said,

    tilting her head toward the wall where a secret door was already opened. "Adventure
    awaits us."

    To be continued in part 5. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts, for Literotica.

    0 min
  • The Time Riders: Part 3
    The Time Riders: Part 3
    What happens when you mix clock-block with priapism?

    Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.



    Ain't Nobody Got Time For That Shit!

    Mark and Becky sat in the small cottage, looking around in

    wonder. They were still in Seventeenth Century France, but found themselves
    surrounded by technologies that they hadn't even heard of. The walls were lined
    with clocks, some of which were mechanical, some seemed to be digital or
    binary, while others told time in ways they couldn't fathom. Sitting across
    from them at the stout, round oaken table, Chester Edgerton smoked a pipe and
    observed them casually.

    "How; how can you have this all out on display?"

    Mark asked, still gaping. "I mean, isn't it against the rules to have this
    sort of tech from the future lying around where the locals might bump into
    it?"

    "That's the beauty of it, my' boy," he said

    cheerfully, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "They can't see it."

    "Well, I get it if you try to restrict entry to your

    house," Mark pressed, wanting to understand. "But what if you're gone
    and bandits break in? Becks and I can account for banditry in this day and age,
    for sure."

    "Mayhap," the man replied. "But I brought you

    through the door that leads to my actual house. The front door, the one the
    local peasantry sees, leads into a simple cottage, typical of the period, and
    owned by a pudgy man of indeterminate nationality."

    "Your; house is in two places at once?" Mark

    asked, trying to understand.

    "No, it's the same place," Chester answered

    simply. "Two different times, however. We're sitting in my actual abode,
    Twenty-First Century."

    Mark shook his head. "That's some weird Tardis shit

    right there."

    "Only at first." Chester allowed.

    "I notice you have all your windows shut," Becky

    remarked. "You said we're in the Twenty-First Century, but I take from
    further ahead than Mark and I are from, so you're not showing us?"

    "Clever girl," mused the man, smiling. "While

    I won't absolutely stop you from looking or even going outside, I would warn
    you that if you do and see something you don't like, you're committing yourself
    to that future, no matter how hard you try to undo it."

    "We'll stay put then," she said readily. "You

    were kind enough to bring us here and sort of explain how we might acquire
    goods in the time stream?"

    He nodded. "I know it might seem counter-intuitive, but

    the simple fact of the matter is that if people are going to insist on time
    travelling, the least they can do is be well-prepared for it so they don't hurt
    themselves or others."

    He leaned forward. "The first question you need to ask

    yourself is, why are you so intent on time-travelling to begin with? Is it
    simple curiosity? Are you planning to make a living somehow? Are you just trying
    to get laid?"

    He looked at Mark during this last question and the young

    man blushed, while Becky giggled and patted his hand. "Mark was a dud in
    Physics in his last year of high school," she explained. "Come to
    think of it, he was in little or no danger of getting into any post-secondary
    education facility."

    "Thanks." Mark muttered.

    "But, then he found his time machine, something called

    a Holmes Field Device, and he resolved to go back in time a few months and
    convince me to give him an A in Physics with the promise of earth-shaking
    sex."

    "This story sounds worse every time I hear it."

    Mark complained.

    "Fortunately, I acquiesced, rather than disemboweling

    him for breaking into my home, and not only did we become lovers, but now we're
    adventuring the time stream together."

    "Hmm, a teacher and a student, eh?" mused the man,

    smiling at them as he smoked. "Teachers and students are plentiful, of
    course, but they're usually from the far, far future and on very
    strictly-controlled excursions into the past. Hands-on history classes, if you
    will."

    "That makes history sound kinda fun." Mark said.

    "Oh, I daresay it is," agreed Chester.

    "Nothing quite as exciting as going back to the Cretaceous Period and
    taking a ride on the back of a trained Styracosaurus. Or watching Dromer
    races."

    "Isn't that screwing with the timeline?" Becky

    inquired. "I mean, humans weren't around for another sixty-three million
    years following the demise of the dinosaurs."

    "It's all very carefully regulated on remote

    islands," Chester explained. "It does nothing to mess with the
    ecosystem and the specimens are trained to interact with humans, for the most
    part."

    "Riding one of those big horned dinosaurs would be a

    kick." Mark mused, grinning.

    "You've already got a perfectly good horn I like to ride,"

    Becky giggled, squeezing his hand again. "Besides, this is where our host
    tells us that it won't be possible for us any time soon."

    "You're a very perceptive young lady," he allowed.

    "We can't have just anyone mucking up the time stream, you know. It's
    especially difficult when people who lived before time travel was commonly
    accepted try to get involved. They inevitably get exposed to technologies they
    shouldn't be aware of, or events that weren't known during their own time;”

    "I'll give you a tiny example," he said, leaning

    forward now, as if he was confiding a secret. "Have you heard of the
    Tunguska Incident?"

    "Sure, the Tunguska region in Siberia, 1908,"

    Becky answered, nodding. "A large meteor slammed into the ground, creating
    a blast equal to sixty megatons and flattening everything for nearly a hundred
    miles around."

    "No, that's what you need to think," he

    corrected, pointing the stem of his pipe toward them. "It was, in fact, an
    advanced weapon that was stolen from a future date, and before temporal agents
    could recover it, the thieves blew it up to cover their escape. Granted, there
    are people in your time who have conspiracy theories about nuclear blast,
    nearly forty years before the first atomic tests, but they're wrong as well. It
    wasn't a nuclear device, simply a weapon with an incredibly high conventional
    yield by your age's standards."

    "So; why can you tell us this now?" Becky asked.

    He grinned and spread out his arms in a gesture of farce.

    "Who would believe you?"

    "So how did you know that we were time travelers?"

    Mark asked as they followed their host and guide through the woods.

    "Well, I heard snippets of your conversation,"

    Chester said as he led the way. "But to be honest, even though your
    outfits might pass with locals for 'reasonably authentic', you couldn't
    possibly hide your origins from a fellow time-traveler. Mark claimed to be
    Spanish, he doesn't look at all Spanish, certainly not from this era. Miss
    Rebecca is remarkably tall for a woman."

    "Well there's something I don't hear very often back

    home!" she giggled.

    "And you're both in strangely good health, with

    unblemished skin and full heads of hair," Chester added. "I was
    relatively certain, and then I heard you discussing your relative inexperience,
    so I sought to introduce myself."

    "I'd' have thought that you wouldn't introduce yourself

    to newbies," Mark stated, helping Becky over a log. "Isn't it safer
    to keep your chatter to people who know what they're doing?"

    "It's actually the exact opposite," replied Chester.

    "The best thing you can do around veteran time travelers you don't need to
    talk to is to not talk to them. Their timelines are probably very intricate and
    you don't want yours getting snarled up with them. Newbies, as you call them,
    probably still have linear experiences that are simple to understand and
    educating them about what awaits is the simplest way to keep things from
    getting weird."

    Getting up to leave the cottage, Mark asked; "So this

    device the time cops gave me," Mark stated, holding up his chronometer.
    "It's actually pretty useful then, because it warns me when I'm getting
    too close to myself or something I've affected."

    "That was very generous of them," Chester said in

    a serious tone. "They don't do that for just everyone who shows up suddenly
    in the time stream. Sometimes they let matters work themselves out, if you know
    what I mean."

    Chester’s Forest Farewell.

     The meadow they stepped into, had a mature lush forest

    further back.

    They reached a small clearing in the forest they'd been tromping

    through and stopped for a bit, sitting on a fallen tree trunk. Chester looked
    at them both and slapped his hands on his thighs. "Now then, I've brought
    you here so that you can witness a casual event that is due to happen just
    outside the woods. Nothing major, but it will give you a taste of what can
    await you. I have something to attend to and should be back in a few hours.
    Just stay out of sight and don't leave the tree line."

    "You're leaving?" Mark protested. Chester turned

    to look at him.

    "It might be that the events you will see unfold work

    better for me if I am nowhere near them," the man replied. "Fear not,
    I shall return. Enjoy yourselves."

    And then he walked into the woods and was gone. Mark looked

    around and finally sighed. "Helluva way to mentor someone," he
    muttered as he stood to take in a panoramic context. "Take 'em somewhere
    and then just fuck off? Nice."

    "He’s not your mentor, Mark," Becky chided,

    sitting on a log and smiling at him. "He's a fellow time traveler who is
    doing you a favor. He's given you plenty of valuable information free of charge
    already, something I doubt he does frequently."

    "Well, okay," Mark allowed. "So, we just wait

    until we see something happen?"

    "No idea when that'll be, he didn't really tell us, did

    he?" Becky pointed out.

    "Yup," Mark sighed. "So, now what?"

    Becky tilted her head slightly as she looked at him, like

    there was something wrong with his brain. "Here's an idea. How about you
    come over here and fuck me?"

    Mark was so determined to be bent out of shape for having no

    instructions that he'd overlooked the completely obvious. He laughed and
    stepped forward, pulling Becky to her feet. They were holding their hands
    between them and staring into one another's eyes, smiling.

    "Now this is what time travel is all about," she

    purred, her eyes shining with delight. "You're going to fuck me in the
    woods in Louis the Sun King's France, Mark. For all we know, this is some sort
    of royal ground and we're trespassing. How many people can say they've done that?"

    "Just the lucky ones;” he replied, beginning to

    unfasten the clasps on her dress, freeing her chest from its confines. As the
    dress fell away, she was left standing on in a low-cut, blouse-like shirt and
    some panties, having chosen to forego the usual layers of buntlings and
    knickers. She bit her lip as he pulled her blouse over her head, exposing her
    glorious tits. Kneeling now, he slowly slid her panties down, feeling a thrill
    as her hairless, smooth cunt came into view. She stepped out of the tiny thong
    panties, letting him drink in the sight of her. Yes, he'd been with her for
    over a week now in France, but he never tired of seeing her beautiful body.

    "Your turn now, my lord." Becky whispered as she

    began removing his clothing, peeling away the layers until he was as naked as
    herself. She stood up again and moved close, her nipples gently kissing against
    his chest. Unable to hold back any more, Mark pulled his teacher to him and
    kissed her deeply, making Becky moan into his mouth. Their hands wandered over
    one another's now-familiar forms, seeking to stimulate, tease and pleasure. His
    hands found her pert ass cheeks and he squeezed them, causing her to moan
    again.

    "Hmm, can't wait to get some grass stains on this

    dress," she murmured, looking up into his eyes. "And maybe a few on
    my knees."

    She slowly knelt in front of Mark, kissing and nipping at

    his skin on the way down. His swelling phallus was in front of her face now and
    she licked her lips hungrily before taking gentle hold and kissing it. Mark
    closed his eyes and shivered, loving the feel of her lips on him. Everything
    about his teacher was incredible. He was just sorry it had taken so long to
    realize it.

    Becky now had the head of his cock inside her warm, wet

    mouth, swirling her tongue around flicking the tip of her tongue against him.
    She giggled as his rod throbbed and grew longer and harder. She loved how
    turned on he could get by her, it made her feel so primal and sexual. She then
    slid her mouth a little further down his shaft before pulling back, shivering
    in delight at the sight of his glistening skin.

    Mark's fingers were in her hair and flexing gently as she

    began to bob back and forth, taking more and more of him into her mouth. She
    hummed lightly, vibrating her lips around him and making him groan. Her hand
    rested on the shaft, pumping as it followed her lips, making a gentle twisting
    motion on the sensitive skin. Becky loved sucking cock, and Mark's was
    ridiculously perfect for her, in just about every possible way. She hoped that
    wouldn't be a problem down the road.

    She took gentle hold of his hips with both hands and moved

    back and forth along his shaft, breathing through her nose as she deep-throated
    him. Mark groaned in pleasure, his fingers flexing into her scalp and tugging
    her hair. She looked up at him, maintaining eye contact, which she knew he
    found so erotic.

    She could feel his skin growing warm and knew now was the

    time to stop and change things up if she intended to have his cock inside her.
    There was indeed one good thing about them being out of sync, with her current
    self three months behind him; they already knew she wasn't pregnant in his
    current timeline, so he could cum deep inside her as much as they liked. She
    pulled her mouth off his with a wet 'pop!' and smiling seductively.

    "I'm thinking maybe my girl wants to say hello too;”

    she purred. Mark nodded and spread out her dress before lying down on it, his
    rock-hard cock standing straight up and throbbing. Becky crawled over him,
    straddling his face, her creamy, wet cunt mere inches from his mouth. She faced
    down his body, giggling and he snaked his tongue out to taste her, but she kept
    her prize just out of reach.

    "So that's how it is, eh?" he said from below her

    before suddenly wrapping his arms around her thighs and pulling down on them
    and causing her to lurch unexpectedly (for her) onto his eager mouth. Becky
    shuddered and moaned loudly as his tongue snaked along and massaged her nether
    lips, before flickering against her throbbing clit to make her gasp and almost double
    over.

    "No fair;” she panted, trying to regain control of

    herself, but Mark seemed inclined to cheat. He kept her pinned to him, leaving
    her to squirm helplessly above him while he lashed her with his tongue.
    "Uh, you bastard; yes, right there; Oh, God, Mark;”

    Her pleas exhorted him to even greater measures. He was

    determined to make her cum on his mouth at least once before they fucked. And
    he seemed to be pretty damned good at making her cum with oral sex, he had to
    say.

    Becky squirmed on top of him, playing wither tits, pinching

    and pulling on her pink nipples, her eyes squeezed shut, because it almost felt
    too good if she was looking at him. His eager tongue snaked deep inside
    her hungry cunt, making her wetter still. He had this maddening technique where
    he formed shapes or letters inside her with his tongue, reaching almost every
    nook and cranny of her. She whimpered, knowing he intended to make her cum and
    she was more than happy to oblige.

    She leaned forward while sitting on his face, reaching out

    to his twitching cock, caressing and massaging it gently; she didn't want him
    to cum, she just wanted to keep him stimulated. She felt the thrill of
    anticipation, knowing it would soon be inside her, pumping in and out,
    throbbing and finally releasing his creamy essence into her, something she
    accepted gladly because of the temporal mechanics between them.

    Mark sucked her clit into his mouth, rolling it around and

    making her shudder, groaning deeply as something started to build within her.
    She pushed down onto his face with her hips, grinding eagerly, while her clit
    throbbed. Then her released it and pushed his tongue deep inside her again,
    probing and lashing her until she was writhing and panting heavily.

    "Oh, God, Mark;” she gasped, sweat streaming from her

    sensual form. "Oh, fuck, yes, please; Uh, so close, baby;”

    He pushed into her as hard as he could and she jerked and

    squeaked arching her back. Her whole frame was wracked with pleasure as she
    cried out loudly, the orgasm crashing through her until she almost couldn't
    breathe. She shook violently, her eyes rolling into her head before she
    collapsed on top of him, her body limp and her chest heaving. Her limbs felt
    like tingling lead, but she managed to lift one to find his cock, determined to
    keep him hard until she had recovered. She stroked him gently while he kissed
    at her gooey nether lips, his face glistening with her cum.

    Fortunately, Becky was insatiable and recovered quickly,

    slowly rising and then sidling forward down his body so she could look back at
    him and smirk.

    "How about it, big boy?" she asked coyly.

    "You ready for the main event?"

    Mark grinned and nodded while she slithered down his body,

    finally hovering over his hips while facing his feet. She took hold of his
    throbbing cock and teased it against her slippery entrance before sinking down,
    making them both sigh in relief.

    "Hallelujah;” she moaned as he bottomed out inside her,

    filling her completely. "Oh, that's exactly what the doctor ordered."

    Mark nodded and took hold of her silken, pert ass cheeks and

    gripped them firmly, making his teacher purr. Becky loved having her ass played
    with, and while she began to sink up and down slowly on his cock, he massaged
    the peach-like orbs, eliciting moans from her when he spread them wide, giving
    her a delicious stretch.

    "Hmm, get me nice and ready back there," she cooed

    as she moved up and down on him. "Because once you're done in my cunt, I
    want you in my ass and I want to feel your cum in it."

    Mark nodded eagerly, because he loved fucking Becky's ass.

    Her cunt was incredibly tight, but even that couldn't match her exquisite back
    passage, which gripped him so strongly and always made him cum so hard he
    thought he might faint. His fingers teased against her little puckered, pink
    knot, sending the most divine tingles through her luscious body.

    Becky undulated on him, picking up the pace and counting on

    Mark to control himself until her was in her ass. She bit her lower lip,
    working herself on that thick, throbbing tool, pulling up until it was almost
    out of her and then sinking back down in one long stroke, filling her
    completely. Her heart was strumming in her chest as she thrilled to the notion
    of the oncoming climax. She was hissing now, struggling to hold on just a few
    seconds longer, to draw out this wonderful pleasure for them both. But then she
    felt the point of no return and willingly stepped over it, moaning loudly as
    her cunt fluttered and she began to cum, hard. She wailed and rocked on her
    lover, bathing his middle with her excitement.

    Her head lolled for several seconds as she came down from

    her orgasm, but she remembered that she still had Mark inside her and needed
    him, promised him, that he would be cumming in her ass. Slowly, lethargically,
    she raised herself until his cock fell out of her, still rock-hard and yearning
    for more. For such a young man, he had exceptional control.

    She inched forward, until she felt his pulsing head teasing

    against her notch. She reached underneath herself and took hold of the shaft,
    holding him steady while she pressed down, slowly but surely. She heard him
    groan as the head popped through her tight ring suddenly and then he was
    sliding inside her. It was Heaven. She sat still for several seconds, just
    reveling in the feel of him filling her ass.

    She felt the need to be sensual, and she leaned backward,

    until she was resting her back on his torso, her head next to his. But her
    knees were still bent and she groaned like she was going to burst, the angle of
    his penetration in this position more than she could bear. Whispering for him
    to wait patiently, she slowly, sinuously slid her legs out from beneath herself
    and straightened them, relaxing in pleasure as they rested on Mark's thighs.

    "Sorry, that would've downright killed me right

    now," she whispered to him, her glassy, heavily-lidded eyes looking into
    his. "And I wanted to be down her to kiss you and let you fondle me as you
    fucked me and came in me."

    "Sounds like a plan," he agreed readily, his

    strong, but gentle hands coming up to rest on her opulent tits. Her began
    caressing and massaging them in circles while Becky started moving her ass on
    top of his cock, squeezing him inside her tight confines. "God, I love
    your ass, Becky."

    "Umm, it loves your cock, Mark," she purred,

    undulating on him, the throb of his tool being felt through her whole body like
    another heartbeat. "You always make me cum so hard;”

    They squirmed and ground together, with Mark tilting his

    hips up to push inside her while Becky squeezed him, the lovers shuddering as
    they kissed feverishly. His hands were squeezing her tits now, pinching and
    pulling on the nipples again to make her groan with the delicious sting.

    But Mark felt his climax approach and he knew it wouldn't be

    long before he was pumping his cum inside her. Becky moaned into his mouth as
    she felt his cock swelling and twitching erratically, a sure sign he was about
    to cum. She squeezed him tighter, feeling the buildup inside herself, yearning
    to share that unreal ecstasy.

    The groaned into one another mouths at first, but then the

    kiss was broken as they panted, fighting for air, their voices carrying around
    the woods they were in. He pushed up hard inside her, pulling down on her tits
    while she squeezed with all her might, his cum almost searing hot inside her,
    filling her up.

    Mark went limp, breathing heavily and clearly spent, not

    that he minded. Becky could barely move, bound in ropes of silken bliss that
    kissed every nerve in her body. Her own heartbeat plus the relentless throb of
    Mark's rigid cock, still oozing inside her, almost meant she didn't know how to
    center herself.

    But they relaxed together finally, kissing gently, eyes

    closed while they clasped hand on top of her tits. Tongues softly tangled, tasting
    one another while they let their rapture slowly ebb. Minutes passed and they
    lay silently, waiting for Mark's cock to soften so Becky could sit up. Finally,
    she giggled, squeezing his hands.

    "Feels like somebody doesn't wanna go to sleep,"

    she said cutely, wiggling her ass on him, feeling her ass refusing to
    relinquish its hard-earned prize. "What're we gonna do?"

    "Iono," he said drowsily. "We just wait, I

    guess. If I try to have another orgasm right now, I'm pretty sure he'd just
    spontaneously combust inside you."

    "Alas, poor cock," she cooed, stroking his cheek.

    "I guess we happily wait, then."

    They closed their eyes and relaxed, waiting for Mark's

    erection to subside so that they could get up without difficulty. Their hands
    remained at rest on her tits while they nuzzled their cheeks together.

    Then there was a 'click!' sound.

    Arrest in Flagrante delicto.

    Becky's eyes snapped open and she goggled up at a man

    dressed in rather colorful and opulent period clothing, staring down at them as
    he pointed a flintlock rifle at their face. Looking around, she now saw they
    were surrounded by men carrying pikes and muskets, all of whom stared at the
    naked couple with varying level of interest.

    The man directly over them moved his musket muzzle,

    indicating they should sit up. Mark's eyes were open by now and he glanced
    around in confusion as well, clearly not understanding what had happened.

    The man's eyes narrowed and he moved the musket muzzle

    again. Becky, sensing the danger they were suddenly in, tried to move, but
    shivered; she was still impaled on Mark's solid cock, which had shown no signs
    of softening and kept her pinned against him. She couldn't get up.

    "Great time to develop priapism, Mark;” she said

    sourly.

    "Maybe Louis the Sun King's France just isn't for us

    after all," Mark sighed as he hiked along behind Becky, who had been
    stuffed hurriedly back into her dress while he was allowed to put on his
    breeches again. Neither of them even had shoes on as they followed the
    soldiers. Their hands were tied behind their backs. "This is twice now
    that we've;“

    "I know, Mark, I was there," Becky said somewhat

    tersely, wondering if Chester Edgeworth was now someone she had to add to her
    shit list. She hated adding names to the shit list. "I guess we were so busy
    fucking that the event our host meant for us to witness has found us."

    "Tais-tois!" one of the men guarding them

    said as he walked nearby with a musket. "Vou ne pouvez-pas parler!"

    Becky scowled at the man and continued trudging. She wasn't

    really embarrassed about being caught fucking, it wasn't the first time it had
    happened to them here in France. But at least this lot had the decency to let
    her have an orgasm first before taking them prisoner. She couldn't even enjoy
    the grass stains on her clothes!

    They had exited the woods and were now tromping through a

    field, heading toward a much larger cluster of soldiers. Mark couldn't help but
    notice that a lot of them were wearing red.

    "Shit;” Becky muttered as she saw them as well.

    "That's all we need."

    "Huh?" Mark asked, but he was silenced when a

    soldier shoved him roughly from behind with his musket, indicating he was to
    stay quiet.

    They approached the encampment and Mark soon realized there

    were several hundred soldiers. The tents were spread out around one rather
    illustrious red tent of grand size. He then saw a cluster of cavaliers milling
    about and they seemed to be headed in that direction. Soldiers stared at them
    as they entered the perimeter of the camp, usually at Becky.

    Mark and Becky found themselves hauled in front of the

    cavaliers, who parted, making way for a single man on horseback. He was at
    least middle-aged, with a somewhat grey pallor to his skin and thin, hawk-like
    features. His expression was a rather lemony one, as if he felt inconvenienced
    by this entire incident. For all that, though, his dark eyes glinted with
    intelligence. He was wearing the flowing red habits of a high-ranking member of
    the Catholic church, although he had a burnished breastplate on his chest as
    well.

    "You stand in the presence of his Eminence, the

    Cardinal Richelieu," announced the captain of the troops that had
    taken them prisoner. Mark's eyes went wide. He didn't speak French, but he'd
    seen enough Three Musketeers movie reboots to know who Cardinal Richelieu was
    and exactly what sort of deep shit they were suddenly in. "Show
    respect!"

    Becky dropped to one knee and bowed her head, looking at the

    ground. Mark rapidly followed suit, since she probably had a better grasp of
    the situation than he did. He could feel everyone's eyes and on them and it was
    beginning to weigh heavily, like a yoke around his neck. His face flushed, but
    he said nothing.

    "Who are these persons?" the cardinal asked

    finally. "Your names, my children."

    "My name is Rebecca, your Eminence," Becky

    said humbly, still not looking up.

    "And you, good sir?" the Cardinal asked,

    looking over at Mark now.

    "M; me llamo Marco del strade, tu Eminencia."

    Mark stammered.

    "A Spaniard," mused the Cardinal, pursing

    his lips. "In the presence of a peasant girl. And you both have unusual
    accents, I admit."

    "Your Eminence," said one of the captains,

    looking at them suspiciously. "This man, why is he here traipsing about
    Champagne like this? With this peasant girl? We found them in the woods, doing
    unspeakable carnal acts to one another."

    The Cardinal's eyebrow arched and he looked on in seeming

    distaste. "You don't say."

    "Very likely he is a spy for King Phillip, your

    Eminence!" said the captain, almost sneering.

    "No, your Eminence," Becky said suddenly,

    her voice full of concern. "I assure you, he is no spy!" Mark
    hadn't heard or understood everything the Frenchmen were saying to one another,
    but he understood 'espion' and his teacher's reaction indicated that he
    was in some kind of trouble. Go figure.

    "And what grounds can you give me to believe you,

    child?" the Cardinal asked with feigned interest.

    "Please," she begged, her head still bowed.

    "You have my utmost assurances he is no spy, he's an idiot!"

    This made the men around them laugh and even Richelieu

    grunted in amusement. "Both of you rise."

    Mark saw Becky get to her feet and he did the same. All

    around them, men with pikes and muskets were watching them warily, some of them
    levelling weapons at the pair. Clearly they took the Cardinal's safety
    seriously.

    Richelieu observed them with interest. "The girl is

    very unusual," he mused. "Tall, very healthy and very
    beautiful. Very, very beautiful. I know only one other of such unmatched
    attractiveness."

    Mark wasn't sure where this was going, but he doubted it was

    good. The Cardinal's interest in him was waning.

    "And yet you say you found her acting in a most

    carnal and un-ladylike manner in the woods, hmm?" Richelieu continued.
    "Well, it certainly won't do for her to be out here alone in the
    countryside, rutting like a nymph, would it? Perhaps her majesty could make use
    of the girl, once we fix her atrocious accent."

    "My what?" Becky snapped, looking offended now.

    "Put her in the cart, we'll bring her to the

    capital, with regards to the Queen." Richelieu declared, turning his
    horse about and riding off. Men began to try and wrangle Becky into one of the
    carts, many of them laughing and leering as they took the opportunity to grope
    her.

    Gut shot.

    "Hey, stop that!" Mark said angrily, surging

    forward, but he suddenly found himself confronted by a captain, who stared at
    him impassively.

    There was a sudden and frightfully loud 'crack!'

    sound and Mark halted suddenly, his eyes wide. Becky's head snapped around at
    the noise and her eyes went wide. Blinking, Mark slowly looked down and saw
    there was a very red puncture hole in his abdomen. Sounds slowed down, taking
    on an almost syrupy quality and he started to feel confused. Becky screamed and
    tried to force her way to him, but she was being hustled away by many guards.

    The man who had shot him wandered off, sliding his flintlock

    pistol back into a holster, clearly no longer caring about Mark. Everyone
    seemed to be wandering off now. He felt cold, and vaguely nauseous. The ugly
    red wound in his stomach pulsed, blood welling from it slowly.

    He felt himself toppling over, white light bathing the field

    around him. He could still see things, but they seemed distant. He tried to
    focus on something, finally identifying Becky's voice as she screamed for him.
    He could just make out the soldiers wrestling her into a cart while she
    struggled and kicked savagely, her face contorted in rage.

    "I'll Get You For This, Richelieu!" she roared as

    Mark's world was absorbed by the soft white light. "You Just Made The Shit
    List Of High Doom!! See If I Ever Dance A Sarabande For You, Pal!"

    Mark bolted upright suddenly, gasping. His eyes were wide

    and he was covered in sweat. His heart thundered in his chest and he fought to
    control his panic. The white light was slowly replaced by close walls of grey
    stone. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing. His hands
    bunched against sheets that were covering him.

    Finally, he could breathe normally and he tried to organize

    his thoughts. He still felt confused, everything a total jumble.

    "Calm yourself. Think!"

    He'd been fucking Becky in the woods. Apparently they were

    waiting for Cardinal Richelieu to go by, which he guessed passed for a
    historical event, seeing the man. But the Cardinal's soldiers heard the two of
    them and took them prisoner. Then they took Becky and Mark tried to stop them
    and got shot in the stomach;

    His eyes snapped open and he was frozen in place. He forced

    himself to look down at his middle, seeing that he was still covered in a
    sheet. His hand was trembling as he moved it slowly toward the heavy,
    dun-colored blanket, sweat trickling from his brow as he felt fear rise in his
    throat.

    He flung away the sheet suddenly, unable to bear not

    knowing.

    He wasn't bleeding. There was no puncture wound, only a

    strange, round scar about two inches in diameter.

    Eyes wide, he slowly lifted his head and looked around, now

    noticing his environs; he was indeed in a small bedroom, the curtains drawn to
    keep out the light and very little in the way of décor. Just a chair and a
    table in one corner, some other surfaces with candles spaced around the room.
    His bed was solid and comfortable.

    "Ah, there you are," Chester Edgerton said as he

    came through the door. "I was beginning to think you had no intentions of
    waking up."

    "Where;” Mark said somewhat feebly.

    "Back at my place," Chester answered, sitting down

    in the chair and settling in for what was no doubt going to be a long and
    perhaps trying conversation. "I found you lying in the middle of the field
    nearly a kilometer from where I'd left you and you were very close to
    dead."

    "How did I;”

    "You should have died," Chester continued.

    "But ultimately you wouldn't have, due to a time lock, I'm assuming. You
    weren't meant to die there in that field. Luckily for you, there are still
    plenty of ways to get yourself killed for doing absurd things."

    "Why did you leave us in the first place?" Mark

    asked.

    "I've been around Richelieu and several of his captains

    at various points in the time stream, and it's getting difficult to
    manage," Chest replied, shrugging. "Best way to deal with that issue
    is to simply not be present."

    "So why leave us there?"

    "To see Richelieu, of course," the man said

    simply. "One of history's truly great men, certainly more so than that
    twit of a king he serves. I was just trying to ease you into the idea of
    witnessing historical events. It never occurred to me that you'd be found
    because you made your teacher yodel like a Swiss Miss when you flagranting the
    delicto with her. I admit I hadn't planned for that nonsense."

    Mark blushed. "So, what, I wasn't meant to die here, so

    my body just healed itself?"

    Chester laughed. "Oh, no, dear boy, nothing of the

    sort. I came back to the woods, as promised, as when you weren't there, I began
    noticing the tracks of many solid shoes and boots in the vicinity. Not to
    mention the clothes you left behind."

    "Yeah, sorry, I was kinda tied up at the moment."

    Mark muttered.

    "In any event, I followed the tracks, noticed that

    Richelieu had broken camp and then found you. You'd been lying there for nearly
    three hours, you should have been dead from blood loss, but you weren't. I
    brought you back here, removed the ball from your stomach and then healed
    you."

    "You can do that?" Mark asked. "I thought you

    said you were a dealer in chroniques."

    "It helps to have a few irons in the fire and some

    hidden talents if you're going to mess around in the time stream," Chester
    replied. "But I was under no obligation to complicate my life and save
    you."

    "I guess I'm glad you did," Mark sighed.

    "Thanks. But wouldn't I have healed anyway?"

    "Yes, but maybe not fully," replied the enigmatic

    dealer. "You might've been found by some local peasants, brought back to
    their hovel and spent life as a weakened vegetable until you died of the
    Plague. People die in the past all the time, Mark, and everyone in their own
    era thinks they just disappeared and mourns them. It's frightfully
    common."

    "Can I; can I see the tools you used to heal me?"

    Mark asked hopefully.

    "Nope," Chester replied, shaking his head.

    "They're from your future by a few hundred years, the only reason I used
    them at all was because you were out cold."

    "Uh, how long was I out, anyway?"

    "Almost a month," Chester answered, smoothing a

    corner of his pencil moustache. "I had you fully healed and ready for
    action by the next day, to be honest, but you just refused to come to. So, I
    just left you to it, figuring you would wake up when you felt like it."

    "Oh, shit," Mark breathed, realizing something.

    "Where's Becky?"

    Chester raised his hands. "Why would I know? I wasn't

    there. What do you remember?"

    Mark tried to concentrate while Chester got up and poured a

    glass of water. Mark drank it thirstily and placed the glass on the table. He
    found himself wishing that he'd taken French instead of Spanish in school. He'd
    thought Spanish might be more useful, but all it did was get him shot. Fuck
    that.

    "I don't really speak French, so this is hard. Umm;

    they thought I was a spy because they thought I was Spanish."

    "Because you've been presenting yourself as Spanish

    while you're here," Chester mused. "In spite of your outrageous
    accent. France has been at war with Spain on and off for some time now."

    "Whatever," Mark grumbled. "They seemed

    really interested in Becky."

    "To be expected, she is quite lovely. I dare say I've

    only known one woman in this entire era to match her beauty."

    "Well, I think I heard them say 'capital', and then I

    think 'la reigne', which means queen, right?"

    "Indeed it does," Chester agreed. "My bet,

    then, is that your teacher has been taken by the Cardinal to be presented as a
    gift to her majesty, Queen Anne, to serve as one of her
    ladies-in-waiting."

    "Why would he do that?" Mark asked, frowning.

    "I've seen enough Three Musketeers movies to know that the Cardinal and
    the Queen hate each other."

    Chester smiled. "It's a game he plays with her. As the

    years go on, Anne is, sadly, getting 'a little long in the tooth', to borrow a
    phrase. She remains dignified and regal, but her best days are behind here,
    where attractiveness is concerned. Richelieu now takes great delight in
    surrounding her with women of magnificent beauty, seemingly a gesture of
    devotion, but really meant to hurt the queen's feelings."

    "What a dick." Mark muttered.

    "You have no idea," Chester said dryly. "If

    they got her back to the city roughly a week after she was taken, then she's
    been with the royal court for three."

    "Meaning that she's either loving life as a

    lady-in-waiting, or she's killed and eaten them all," Mark said heavily.
    "I guess I have to go get her."

    "I can't imagine this not being amusing," Chester

    said, smirking. "But out of morbid curiosity, how, exactly, will you
    affect this rescue?'

    "I dunno," Mark said, shrugging. "But I can't

    leave her. She'd kill me."

    "She probably thinks you're dead, I feel obliged to

    point out." Chester mentioned. "She saw you suffer a mortal wound at
    point-blank range. You should be dead and only an as-yet undetermined
    temporal snarl has kept you alive. I wouldn't count on that again if I were
    you."

    "Well I can't do nothing!" Mark insisted in

    frustration.

    Chester tilted his head, observing his guest for a moment.

    "Do you love this woman?"

    Mark blushed furiously. "I; no, I don't love her, or if

    I do, then I'm not in love with her. There's a difference, ya'
    know."

    "Well and truly said, Boccaccio," Chester

    chuckled. "Well, if there's no stopping you, then I'll see what I can do
    to discretely help you."

    "Why?" Mark queried. "I've got a friggin'

    time machine. All I need to do is get there, zip in and zip out."

    "Correct me if I am wrong," interjected his host.

    "But did you not tell me, early on in our association, that your current
    self is from three months in the future of the Miss Rebecca that I know."

    Mark nodded.

    "And you plan to add another layer of temporal travel

    on top of that wedding cake of disaster?" Chester mused. "Rebecca
    could be subtly altering the timelines in Paris now with her very presence,
    involuntary as it might be. Your oh-so-carefully laid plan could simply not
    work because of a slight temporal consideration."

    "So you're saying no time machine." Mark stated

    flatly, not impressed.

    "I'm saying the idea is bad. Atari Jaguar bad,"

    Chester replied. "If you intend to do this hare-brained thing,
    allow me to assist you in what moderate ways I can."

    "What, you've got some funky tech or weapons you can

    loan me?"

    "We'll see about that, but more importantly, I guess

    I'll call in a favor. A certain person who moves in the circle of the royal
    court owes me a small boon, and I can use it to assist you. They happen to be
    an accomplished master of intrigue and getting out of sticky situations, with a
    blade if necessary."

    Mark's eyes lit up. "Is it D'Artagnan?"

    "Only if you want to get Clock-Hammered out of

    existence," Chester laughed, shaking his head. "Everybody wants to
    meet Charles de Batz, thinking they're going to see D'Artagnan of Three
    Musketeers fame, and then it just turns out he's a bad-tempered Gascon who loves
    to punch people who bother him. He's punched more time-travelers than Jesus,
    I'm pretty sure."

    Chester then went over to a drawer and rummaged around

    inside it, finally pulling out a yellowing envelope that was sealed with wax.
    "I assure you, the agent I am referring you to will be much more effective
    than D'Artagnan. I will send you with instructions about where in Paris to meet
    them and offer them this envelope. Warning, though, if they see it is opened,
    they will simply refuse to help and go away to where you cannot find them. Are
    you strong enough to keep from opening the letter?"

    Mark nodded.

    "Well, then," Chester announced, opening a bottle

    of wine and pouring two cups. "Shall we drink a toast to your success, o
    Macro del Strade of Seville?"

    Palace Mission.

    Mark was sitting on the back of a hay wagon, wondering if he

    could really pull this insane plan off. In addition to the letter, Chester
    Edgeworth had indeed furnished him with a few small devices and curious that
    they hopefully would help him, though it cost him almost all the rest of his
    money. Chester pointed out he was a businessman and didn't intend to take a
    loss just because some idiot created a time crisis for himself.

    Fair enough.

    Mark tried not to play with the little bud that sat deep in

    his ear; Chester had sold it to him, saying that it could translate languages,
    speaking into Mark's ear whatever he was focusing on. It could also possibly
    formulate phrases; if he spoke in English, it could tell him the closest
    translation to what he was saying.

    This model was old, though, and only spoke the French of

    this period. Chester didn't want him getting any clever ideas with a more
    powered-up version, since if something bad happened, it might come back on him.

    The reasoning initially annoyed Mark, but the more he

    thought about it, he reminded himself that he was here to rescue Becky. Nothing
    else.

    He thought about the conversation he'd had with their host

    while drinking wine and planning his initial move, heading to Paris.

    "So why did you begin time-travelling at all?"

    the man had asked.

    "Well, I;” Mark started saying, unsure of how to

    answer. "I found a time machine. Seems perfectly logical to use it."

    "Granted, but what's your personal motivation,

    Mark?" he asked. "Is it to see glorious historical events, are you a
    treasure hunter, a thrill-seeker who wants to run with the Dromaesaurs?"

    Mark blushed now. "Honest? I thought it'd be cool to

    have sex with women from history."

    To his amazement, Chester didn't laugh uproariously, he

    simply smiled and shrugged. "More common than you would think, especially
    amongst men your age, who are full of hormones. Let me ask, then; was getting
    laid in your own time-period difficult?"

    "Not really, no."

    "Well it's not any easier in the time stream, just

    so you know," Chester pointed out. "In some periods of history, it
    can be even harder, where religious fervor runs rampant and sexual repression
    is the law of the land. I assume you wouldn't go as far as to rape a
    girl."

    Mark shook his head.

    "Lots of men do when they find out that having sex

    in the past is harder than they anticipated," Chester said almost sadly,
    shaking his head. "You're one of the better ones. But for all that, the
    problem remains; getting into bed or a rug with Cleopatra is pretty much next
    to impossible. You might as well hope to seduce Scarlett Johansson when you're
    no one in particular."

    "Hey, I got Becky, didn't I?" Mark had

    protested.

    "Dumb luck, really, and she's a remarkable woman.

    Have you had sex with any women aside from Becky since you came to the Sun
    King's France?"

    He shrugged. "A few, I shared 'em with Becky."

    "Peasants, I assume?"

    "Mostly, yeah," Mark admitted. "There was

    one sophisto girl, but Becky did the talking and charmed the knickers off her
    for us."

    "If it weren't for Becky, you'd be completely out of

    your league here, boyo," Chester said simply. "And trust me, it won't
    get easier. Even history buffs who think they know everything get caught and pay
    the price. There's the history you know, the history you don't know, and the
    history that you don't know that you don't know."

    "What?"

    "What year did World War Two end?" Chester

    asked.

    "Simple. 1945."

    "So you know that. What year did the Crimean War

    start?"

    "I've heard of it, but I don't know anything about

    it."

    "Something you know that you don't know. Okay, tell

    me about the League of Ages Twelfth Nicean Temporal Council."

    "The what?"

    "Exactly," Chester had said emphatically,

    leaning forward and pointing with his wine glass to make a point. "An
    incredibly important historic event that you've never even heard of, but it
    happened all the same. Can you imagine trying to do something that conflicted
    with that? You wouldn't even know what clock-hammered you, or why; because only
    a practiced temporal traveler would be aware of the event at all. Time travel
    can be tedious."

    "It's certainly becoming less and less fun by the

    moment." Mark grumbled.

    "Probably the smartest thing you've said since you

    found that Holmes-Field Device," Chester agreed. "Life would be a lot
    easier if casual nitwits like yourself walked the other way when a time machine
    appeared in their path."

    "But don't you make a living selling to people like

    me?" Mark asked.

    "Hardly," Chester almost snorted. "Nitwits

    like you rarely have anything to even pay me with and usually require drastic
    amounts of assistance. No, my friend, the majority of my income is derived from
    customers who hail from the far future where time travel is an established
    industry and carefully regulated. Now those people are my bread and
    butter."

    "Did Becky and I really stand out?" Mark asked

    somewhat dully.

    "More and more with each passing moment,"

    Chester answered. "You're too tall, too healthy, you have all your teeth,
    and your accents are absurd."

    Mark said nothing.

    "And by the way," added his host. "Those

    little packets of Airborne that you both carry in your pockets? The little
    Vitamin C boost things to ward off the sniffles? I can guarantee you that those
    will in no way, shape or form protect you from illnesses in this era. Only
    thing it'll do is turn your piss such a bright yellow that people will think
    you're possessed and the Inquisition will burn you."

    Mark ended up leaving the packets as a curio that Chester

    could sell to people from the future who wanted to snicker at how dumb people
    from the turn-of-the-millennium were.

    Carting to Paris.

    He had arranged transport to Paris with the wagon he was now

    on, making sure the farmer put some extra perk in his horse's step by offering
    him twice as many sou as was normal. The journey, which would normally
    take a week, with good weather, was promised to six days because of the extra
    money.

    Whatever the difference was between six-day speed and

    seven-day speed, Mark sure couldn't tell it. His communication with the farmer
    had been sluggish, certainly, mostly on his end, because he would try to say
    exactly what his little translator bud told him and he probably sounded like
    he'd had a stroke when he was speaking. The farmer laughed at his speech, but
    still did as he was asked.

    Mostly they slept at the side of the road in the piled hay,

    but one night they stayed in a roadside inn. Mark's funds were running out
    fast, even though the food he ate was paltry and rather unappetizing. He had to
    reach Paris.

    They then trundled through the town where Mark and Becky had

    first come to; and Mark hid himself in the straw, figuring it was best to not
    be seen by people whom he might be familiar with. Even if the innkeeper’s two daughters
    would no doubt readily fuck him again. He fought the temptation to ignore
    Chester's instructions and simply go get his Holmes-Field Device and use it to
    rescue his teacher. But he disciplined himself and refrained, he was in enough
    trouble as it is.  Then he meditated;

    Known knowns.

    Known unknowns.
    Unknown unknowns.

    Fuck.

    The days and nights passed with Mark trying to keep himself

    from growing crazy by practicing his French and thinking of his plan. He had no
    idea whatsoever about what to do once he reached Paris. Get inside the royal
    palace? He couldn't exactly Google the plans for it, could he?

    "Regardez la!" the farmer said finally,

    calling back to Mark and pointing toward the west. As the sun was rising behind
    them, he could make out a sprawling sea of darkness in the distance, the
    silhouette of which prickled the sky. Endless plumes of smoke hung over the
    city as deep grey gave way to dawn behind them. He thought it might actually be
    pretty.

    And then the wind wafted over them from the west, bringing

    the unique scent of fabled Paris.

    "Jesus!" Mark croaked as he turned green, leaning

    over the side of the wagon and puking his guts out while the farmer roared with
    laughter.

    They entered the city. Mark wandered through the choking

    maze of streets, gaping at the chaos of architecture around him; houses seemed
    to almost be built on top of houses, to the place where some of them were
    leaning over almost drunkenly. The cobblestones of the road were wet and sticky
    with effluence, there was no way to avoid it. The stench was beyond belief. How
    had people ever lived like this?

    He had asked on repeated occasions where he could find La

    Rue de Grenuie, the place Chester had told him he would find the agent he'd
    referred to. Mark was reasonably certain most people were being helpful, even
    if they stared at him like he was an alien. He might as well have been, he was
    a head taller than just about everyone, clearly well-fed and had all his teeth.
    Mark had seen jack-o-lanterns with more teeth than most of the denizens of
    Paris' infamous streets.

    He took many wrong turns, because where he thought people

    had told him to go was often a dead end. Eventually, by divine providence, he
    found himself on the street he'd been asking for, evidenced by an ancient, worn
    rectangle of wood that said the name in faded green letters. Certain he was on
    the right track, he headed down the crowded street, stuffing his purse into the
    front of his breeches, since Chester had told him Paris was home to countless
    scoundrels who could remove his wealth without him even noticing.

    The crowds began to thin out somewhat, and the street got

    narrower, as if that was possible. The cobblestones were also surprisingly dry,
    not sticky or running with the sewage of the city behind him. Before long, it
    was barely wide enough to accommodate one person and he felt very uneasy about
    the rickety buildings that loomed over his head, almost blocking the sky. He
    then stopped in front of a black iron fence, pitted with age and with a chain
    wrapped around it. He tilted his head and unwrapped the chain, finding that the
    gate now swung open freely and with decidedly little noise. He stepped in,
    closed it behind himself and then fixed the chain back in place as best he
    could.

    He found himself walking through a tunnel, the buildings

    about him now made of stone. Dank and foreboding, he resisted the urge to run,
    not knowing what lay ahead. Eventually, he came to a small, bare courtyard. It
    might have been thirty feet by thirty feet and was devoid of almost all decoration.
    High brick and stone walls concealed it from the chaos of Paris. It was
    surprisingly quiet, as if the city dared not disturb the austere serenity.

    There was a single, grey stone bench in the middle of the

    courtyard. Facing away from him, clad in a great cloak, was a person, the hood
    thrown over their head to keep the merciless sun off them.

    Mark swallowed and took a deep breath before beginning to

    move forward. Was this Chester's agent? If he was, Mark had to be careful,
    because he'd been told the man was dangerous. He approached slowly, finally
    coming to a stop some five paces away, still facing the stranger's back.

    "Hello," he said faltering French. "My

    name is Mark. I have; sent; to you; today; for big help. I is need big
    help."

    "That you do, my friend," replied the

    person in a strangely lyrical voice. Then closed a small book of devotionals
    wwhich had clearly been studied and stood, still facing away. "That
    much is obvious, because your French is painful."

    Mark blushed in embarrassment as the translator bud told him

    what the person had said. Still concealed beneath their voluminous
    midnight-blue cloak, the mysterious person turned around and approached him. He
    resisted the urge to take a step back as the shrouded presence stood right in
    front of him. He couldn't help but notice the person was on the taller side,
    strange for a Parisian.

    Gloved hands pulled down the hood and Mark's eyes widened in

    amazement. Shining golden hair spilled in luxurious tresses down the person's
    back. The eyes were a dazzling blue, glinting with intelligence. The smile was
    serene, the teeth within white and perfect.

    Lady Alexandra.

    "Je m'appelle Alexandra D'Assaut," the

    woman said warmly, her voice sending chills through him. "And I am
    lady-in-waiting to her royal majesty, Queen Anne of wide fame across
    Christendom."

    Mark's lips moved soundlessly as he gaped at her. He didn't

    think it was possible, but she might have been even more beautiful than Becky.
    He'd never seen such an angelic face in his life. Deep from within, he summoned
    the will to speak.

    "J-je m'appelle; uh, Mark."

    The woman tilted her head slightly and then reached up hand

    touched his ear. Her touch was almost electric, but a split second later, his
    ear felt empty as she withdrew her hand and gazed at the translator bud she had
    removed from his ear canal.

    "What is your native language?" she asked

    curiously. "Anglais? Espanol? Allemand?"

    "Oh, uh; English." Mark replied, rubbing the back

    of his head.

    "And you are not from around here, either."

    Alexandra said in perfect English with an erection-causing accent as she put
    the translator bud back in his hand and looked up at him. "More than that,
    you are not from my era."

    "That obvious, eh?" Mark said, beginning to feel

    like a total flop at time travel.

    "Your accent is not that of the English throne, so you

    either come from the New World with an accent I have not heard yet, or you are
    from days yet untold, my friend. That and you are ridiculously tall. I know of
    only three men who exceed you in height, one of the them being my elder
    brother, another that lout Porthos of Les Mousquetaires Gris, and the
    Duke of Buckingham. You are none of these three."

    "Yeah, uh, guilty." Mark said somewhat sheepishly.

    He hadn't been this tongue-tied since he'd invaded Becky's home and she'd
    threatened to kill him a lot. At least this woman hadn't yet.

    "So, what brings you to my little sanctuary?" she

    asked, observing him.

    He thought about that for a moment and then fumbled about

    hastily in his pants while she looked on in amusement. He finally fished out
    the envelope from Chester and handed it to Alexandra. She examined it curiously
    for a moment and then broke the wax seal, taking out the small folded bit of
    paper and reading it. Her eyes betrayed nothing, but she sighed.

    "Merde," she muttered as she folded the

    paper up and slipped it into a pocket of her great cloak and clasped it shut.
    She then looked up at him. "Very well, then, I am indebted to assist you
    with whatever your quandary is, since my friend Chester Edgeworth has asked for
    the boon. Shall we retire to my apartments?"

    She turned and walked toward another tunnel in a swish of

    cloak. Mark looked around as he followed her.

    "Ya' said this is your sanctuary?" he asked.

    "It is."

    "No offence, but; kinda dull for a lady-in-waiting,

    isn't it?"

    "The way it should be, as long as the people of Paris

    suffer in their untold thousands at the hands of the nobility." Alexandra
    replied grimly, her blue eyes glinting in the darkness of the tunnel that
    swallowed them.

    The network of tunnels and narrow alleys had bewildered

    Mark, but his guide navigated them with ease, seeming to glide over the stone
    pavement. This place also had little or none of the stench he had quickly come
    to associate with Paris. She moved swiftly and she seemed confident he'd keep
    up, although sometimes he momentarily lost track of her in the darkness because
    of the midnight blue she was wearing.

    Their sojourn took them slowly up, as in on a winding incline.

    With the houses and buildings sagging overhead, Mark had rapidly lost track of
    which direction they were headed in. He almost felt claustrophobic, something
    he never did. Turn after turn, up a short flight of stone steps, more
    alleyways, more steps and more turns. Eventually, they reached a large, solid
    wooden door, bolted with iron. She fished out an almost comically-oversized key
    and inserted it into the lock, which opened with a 'clank!'. She then
    led him into a dark foyer, where she removed her cloak, hanging it on a peg
    after removing his letter and her devotional book. In the almost near dark, it
    was difficult to tell what she was wearing.

    "Come!" she said simply as she began to climb a

    flight of stairs. He followed behind her while the staircase wound upward.
    Finally, another door, much simpler and smaller in design, but still having a
    strong lock. She opened the door and whisked into the room beyond, moving
    around to several tables and lighting candles to give them some illumination.
    Finally, she turned to him and he got to see what she actually looked like when
    she wasn't wrapped in enough velvet to cover a cathedral.

    He'd been right. She was utterly glorious. Tall for a woman

    of the day, easily Becky's height, with alabaster skin, a large, firm bust, a
    tiny waist and statuesque legs. She was, oddly enough, wearing tan breeches and
    had a crème-colored blouse on top that did nothing to hide the size of her
    chest. She saw him gaping and smirked.

    "Do not worry, Mark, I get this reaction from men all

    the time." Alexandra said, her voice kind.

    "You sure don't look like anyone else I've seen in

    Paris," he breathed. "No lie."

    "Well, thank you," she said cheerfully as she

    found a bottle of wine and opened it. "I think you will like this wine,
    the vintner made several bottles for me personally."

    "Uh, yeah, thanks." Mark said, moving over to a

    chair she gestured to and sitting in it. She sat in the other one, across the
    small, ornate table from him. He couldn't identify why, but she felt;
    sensuously close to him.

    "So now," she began, taking a sip of her wine but

    looking at him over her goblet. "What is so important that dear Chester
    has called in a favor?"

    "Whoa, uh;” Mark faltered, rubbing the back of his head

    again. "I; I hardly know where to begin."

    "To quote another associate of mine from a time beyond

    this one," she lilted, still looking at him. "Just give it to me fast
    and dirty."

    Mark hadn't been aware of the erection in his pants until

    she said that, which caused his hard-on to throb so suddenly it almost shocked
    him. He pursed his lips as he fought to control himself. All the while,
    Alexandra looked on in amusement.

    "Okay," he said finally. "My teacher and I

    are lovers."

    "Bien," she said easily, taking another

    sip. "The best way for our youth to be trained is if their professors
    are readily involved with them."

    Mark ignored that logic for the moment (not that he objected

    to it) and continued. "Before that, I found a time machine. You; you know
    what I mean by that?"

    She nodded.

    "We came back to the Sun King's France to have some

    fun. Chester was attempting to educate us about how to safely observe history
    and led us to a small event."

    "And this is where everything, as New Worlders from

    tomorrow will say, 'went south'."

    "Yeah," he said heavily. "Becky and I got

    tired of waiting for the event and figured we were hiding, so we started, ya'
    know;”

    "Fucking?" Alexandra posited.

    Mark nodded, hopefully concealing the shiver that raced

    through him when she said that word. "I guess we got a little too loud,
    because suddenly we were surrounded by men with guns and pikes and they took us
    to an encampment not far away, one dominated by red tents."

    The blonde woman's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

    "Richelieu."

    Mark nodded. "He decided that Becky would be’

    "Excuse," she interrupted, apparently

    wanting to clarify something. "Becky?"

    "Yeah, uh, my teacher, Rebecca." Mark confirmed.

    "Becky," Alexandra repeated quietly to herself, as

    if trying to get a taste for the word. "What a delightful diminutive.
    Women named Rebecca in this day are not so blessed. Please, continue."

    "Uh; anyhow, I"

    "Who?" Alexandra asked, confused.

    Mark screwed his face up for a moment. He was getting so

    comfortable talking to this woman, it was difficult to remember he knew
    absolutely nothing about her. "It's; a slang term from my time, meaning
    anyhow."

    She tilted her head. "Anyhow?"

    Mark paused. "Anyway?"

    "Yes, that one I know," she said, smiling.

    "Anyhoo, please continue, my friend."

    Mark nodded, happy to be back on course. "Richelieu

    took Becky and one of his captains shot me in the stomach with a pistol and
    they all left me for dead."

    "And yet, tabernac, here you are, hale and

    hardy." Alexandra mused. "I may assume that our mutual associate Chester
    is the one that healed you?"

    "That's what I'm told." Mark agreed. "Wasn't

    really conscious for it."

    "Now I understand that you had been shot and were in

    the process of dying, but did you happen to hear anything the Cardinal or his
    men said about their plans for your Becky?"

    Mark nodded grimly. "They were gonna make a gift of her

    to the queen. Like, turn her into a lady-in-waiting?"

    "And that is where I fit into this," Alexandra

    said gravely, her voice deeper than it had been. "He is asking me to help
    you rescue your teacher, so that you may return to your own age."

    Mark nodded again. "He didn't say it, but it sounded

    like he was calling in a big deal."

    Alexandra rolled her eyes and shook her head, smiling

    lightly. "No, he just doesn't want this to come back on him somehow, since
    he sent you into harm's way with Richelieu, whom he has several;
    'entanglements' with. I'm not quite sure what he was thinking, he despises the
    Cardinal."

    "Good to know he didn't do it on purpose," Mark

    muttered. "The last guy in your time who tried to dick us around, Becky
    was not kind to him."

    The hostess raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Might one

    inquire?"

    "He recommended an inn to us, in a small town, then

    sent thugs to rob us. Becky; took that very personally."

    "I can understand," she said lightly.

    "Please, do go on."

    Mark blushed again. "We were having sex in our bathing

    tub in our room when the thugs burst in just as she was about to; well;”

    "L'orgasme." Alexandra said helpfully.

    "Yeah, that. Becky was really pissed about it and she

    pretty much beat the living shit out of all of them."

    "I like the sound of her already," she mused,

    smiling. "Mais, where were you?"

    "Oh, I helped, don't worry," he replied, allaying

    her apparent fears that he'd been hiding in a corner. "It's just that;
    well, she was kind of a whirlwind of violence and it didn't last long. After
    that, she made the ringleader confess who'd sent him when she jammed his pistol
    up his ass."

    "Sang-Dieu, she sounds quite terrifying."

    Alexandra breathed, fanning herself for effect before pouring another cup of
    wine. "Then what?"

    "Well, we spent a full week at the inn, without charge

    because the innkeeper let it happen, and we got all our food and wine for free,
    and he let us fuck his daughters all week too, provided we didn't tell anyone
    about the incident."

    Alexandra tittered behind her hand. "Ma'amselle

    Becky, elle est bisexuelle, oui? Quelle merveilleuse! Do go on,
    Mark."

    "Well, after a week of debauchery, the trail led back

    to the man who recommended the inn, knowing we'd be attacked. Becky got her
    hands on him, roughed him up a bit, then we left him tied naked on his hands
    and knees in the woods, with olive oil dripping off his ass. I think Becky was
    hoping a bunch of wolves would have their way with him, ya’ know?"

    "I am sure I do not, but all the same.

    To be continued in part 4. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts, for Literotica.

    0 min
  • The Time Riders: Part 2
    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 not to let anything interrupt the
    orgasm she could feel building inside her.

    "Umm, Mark;” she moaned into his mouth. "I'm going

    to cum so hard on you."

    "I'm gonna cum too," he gasped, feeling his

    muscles beginning to tingle and his toes curl. "My first four-way, ya'
    know."

    "Hmm, cum in me!" she whimpered, moving her hips

    in circles faster and faster, kissing him ardently. "Let me feel it!"

    He was gripping her tightly, pulling her down onto his

    throbbing cock, his legs starting to squirm and then she went rigid, gasping
    before breaking the kiss and moaning loudly and shamelessly. She ground down on
    him ferociously as he blasted a full dose of cum inside her, pumping his hips
    for all he was worth. The peasant sisters licked and lapped eagerly at them,
    clearly also fingering themselves to orgasm, as they too whimpered and groaned
    in pleasure.

    Becky sagged on top of Mark, their bodies glistening from

    their exertions, flush with pleasure. She nuzzled her lips against his neck
    while he caressed her tits and stomach gently, the two of them basking in the
    aftermath of their lovemaking. The sisters kept kissing and licking dutifully,
    clearly not considering their task accomplished.

    "Best sex I've had in centuries," Becky giggled

    into his ear before nipping the lobe. "You sure know how to show a girl a
    good time."

    She slowly straightened herself up and then turned around to

    straddle his lap but look into his face. Her arms were around his shoulders
    while his rested on her waist. His cock slipped out of her and one sister began
    sucking it clean while the other leaned in to kiss Becky's ass and lap at her
    cunt lips while Mark's pearly cum trickled out of them.

    "It's a good thing I've got iron control of

    myself," Becky whispered softly to him while gazing into his eyes.
    "Because a girl could fall for a guy quite easily under these
    circumstances."

    He smiled and rubbed his nose against hers. "Yeah, I

    could fall for you too, teach. Never known anyone like you before. Hell, I
    didn't know you were like you before I got that dumbass idea of trying to go
    back in time and seduce you."

    She kissed his nose and smiled. "Well I'm glad you did.

    I think this worked out well for both of us, wouldn't you say?"

    "I couldn't agree more." Mark murmured as he

    kissed her again. This was a very interesting week so far.

    "Miff-miff-murf!" Henri protested through the

    cloth gag that was stopping up his mouth. He was decidedly naked, his hands
    bound while he was tied and trussed up in rope like some sort of shibari
    revenge nightmare. He was on all fours, his knees and elbows on the ground.
    Worse still, the crazy blonde woman had poured oil all over his exposed ass,
    making it shine like a beacon.

    Mark looked around at their surroundings, in the woods just

    off to the side of the road. You'd have to be blind not to see Henri from
    there. "You sure this is a good idea?"

    "Since our friend took it upon himself to see us get

    robbed and potentially raped and killed, I'd say yes," Becky replied,
    standing over their captive, her arms crossed under her tits while she looked
    down at him. "Normally I'd never consider it, but let's be honest, he has
    this coming."

    "Which brings me to my next question," Mark said,

    finishing tying one of the ropes that bound Henri to a tree. He wasn't going
    anywhere. "What is it you think he has coming?"

    "Whatever," Becky said, her voice indicating she

    didn't really care. "He might get raped by a bear, maybe a gypsy caravan
    will find him, ants might crawl up his ass, who knows? With any luck, though,
    no one will rescue him before rectal trauma ensues."

    She squatted down in front of him now and removed the gag

    from his mouth. He coughed and sputtered for several seconds before glaring up
    at her, his face red with outrage.

    "Vous etes fou, salope!" he snarled,

    breathing heavily from the awkward position he had been kept in. He was
    essentially face-down and ass-up in a forest. "Vous etes fou!"

    "If that's true, then it's men like you who make me

    that way." Becky sneered. "We were perfectly nice to you and
    you betrayed us. This is a lot better than you deserve, since you tried to have
    us killed."

    He glared at her hatefully. "Souillon!"

    Becky's eyes widened in shock at the epithet, but before she

    could react, Mark had lunged in, knelt and punched Henri in the face. The
    Frenchman went unconscious. Mark glared at him in fury before standing up and
    looking at Becky, shaking the sting out of his fingers.

    "I don't know a lot of French, but I know what that

    was," he said to her. "You're right, he deserves a conga-line of wolf
    cocks up his ass.”

    “ I’m not a whore! Sure, I’m a slut, but I don’t fuck for

    silver!” Becky vented.  “Let's get out of here before anyone sees us,
    though."

    Her smile was a glowing one as she looked at her student,

    her valiant knight in shining armour who had defended her honor. Okay, maybe he
    was more of a retard in tinfoil, but he'd get there. He'd have all the time he
    needed, literally.

    "Let's go," she said gently, threading her arms

    through his and leading him back to the road. "We have money to spend and
    lots of places we could be making love in. The Sun King's France awaits us.

    "Ya' know, I was thinking we could probably have a lot

    of fun without getting in too much trouble." Becky mused as they sat in
    the back of a coach, holding hands while it rumbled down a dirt road.
    "It'd be great to do things like attend rock concerts we both weren't
    alive for, like Woodstock, or the Beatles rooftop concert."

    "Yeah, that would be pretty cool." Mark agreed,

    smiling at her. "You're pretty damn cool, Becks."

    "Thanks, I've worked hard to become so," she said

    sweetly. "You've turned out to be a pretty nifty guy yourself. And here
    you seem like such a dough head in my class. Cute, though."

    "That does bring up a point," Mark mused.

    "Since I first visited you, we've been fucking and messing around, but
    we're still out of sync."

    She thought about what he was saying. "Hmm, the you I'm

    talking with is from three months in my future. I see your earlier self
    in physics class, and just smirk to myself, thinking about how I'm going to
    probably fuck you that night. You have no idea how hard it is to not stare at
    your bulging crotch or your tight ass."

    "And I was too dumb to notice," he sighed.

    "But I'm worried it might become a problem. I keep coming back in time to
    see you, but you never catch up. It might end up causing one of those time
    knots or whatever the agents called it."

    "And waiting three months to see you would suck,"

    she muttered, scowling at the floor. "It won't make a difference to you,
    but for me, it'll seem like forever."

    "What if; what if we broke it up into chunks?"

    Mark suggested.

    "So, you don't visit me every night like you do now but

    say every two weeks or something?" Becky mused. "That could work,
    although you'd better toughen up, because I'll be going crazy between visits,
    humping my bedposts in desperation. When you step through my door, I'll probably
    tackle you and try to fuck you to death."

    "Helluva way to go," he laughed. "But I do

    think it's a good idea to sync up our timelines, even if it means we have to
    fuck less for a bit."

    "From my point of view," she grumped. "But

    you're right. Well, I am going to Hawaii for a week, I suppose you could join
    me."

    "I remember you doing that," he said. "We got

    stuck with that awful sub, the one we all call Miss Grundy. Pretty sure we were
    all glad when you got back. So, you won't mind me tagging along to Hawaii with
    you?"

    "It'll be fun," she giggled, stroking his hand.

    "We'll go to luaus, make love on a black sands beach and in the bamboo
    groves;”

    He considered. "We'll need a way for me to make some

    money so I'm not a burden. We have access to a time machine, how hard can it
    be?"

    They paused the conversation as they felt the coach slow

    down and come to a stop. There was nothing but silence for several seconds.

    "What now?" Becky muttered, wondering if someone

    was going to try and rob them again. Her hand left Mark's lap and came to rest
    on the flintlock pistol hiding beside her.

    A little slot in the front of the coach opened and a sly,

    pencil-mustachioed face grinned back at them.

    "Pardon my intrusion," he said in what could only

    be described as a New England accent. "But my name is Chester Edgeworth,
    and I couldn't help but overhear that you're looking to clear a tidy little
    profit from your time travelling?"

    To be continued in part 3. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts, for Literotica.

    0 min
  • The Time Riders: Part 1
    The Time Riders: Part 1
    The Timeless Art of Shagging.

    Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.



    Give A Monkey A Gun.
    Mark’s bedroom interrogation.

    Mark sat in the chair in his bedroom by his computer desk,

    trying to look chastised, but he was worried that a tiny hint of an evil smirk
    was crossing his lips. He hung his head in the hopes it would be less
    noticeable. Standing in the room with him were two stone-faced men in black
    suits and dark glasses. They stared at him silently for several minutes before
    glancing at one another. Finally, the shorter one sighed.

    "Okay, Mark," he said heavily. "Once more,

    from the top. I want you to give us as detailed an account of what happened as
    you possibly can. Leave nothing out."

    "Everything?" Mark asked quietly.

    "Everything."

    "Well, as long as you think you have the time."

    Mark quipped, sitting up straight and leaning back in his chair somewhat
    casually.

    The tall man frowned. "Was that a joke?"

    "Not a very good one, apparently," Mark muttered.

    "Stick to the facts," the man said firmly. "We

    hate jokes."

    "No kidding," Mark mused, settling in to relay the

    events he had already explained to them twice that evening. "Alright, let
    me start at the beginning."

    "Not funny, young man;” growled the shorter agent.

    "I found the thing in the park. What did you say it's

    called?" Mark asked.

    "A Holmes Field Device."

    "Right," Mark agreed, nodding. "I found the

    Holmes Field Device in the large lilac bushes over in Grosvenor Park."

    "Why were you in the bushes?" interrupted the tall

    man.

    Mark gave him a wry look. "I was making a drug deal. I

    was supplying uranium to Libyan terrorists. I was hiding the body of a
    transvestite hooker I killed. What does it matter? It's not your worry or
    jurisdiction, if you're telling me the truth, is it?"

    "Fair enough," said the shorter agent amicably.

    "Please proceed, Mark."

    Mark nodded. "It was really small and compact at first

    and I didn't know what it was. But it kinda gave off a hum and it almost had a
    glow, I dunno. I pulled it out of the bushes and over to a secluded area where
    there was still some light from nearby lamps. Anyway, I must've tripped a catch
    or something on it, because the thing folded out on itself into what looked
    like a platform and grew these weird-ass frames with displays and dials and
    buttons and shit. It was like something out of Star Trek."

    "I can see how it might appear advanced to you,"

    the shorter agent said, nodding. "To my partner and I, it's rather
    primitive, but that's not your problem. Please proceed."

    "Once I was sure that no one was around or likely to

    come through, I began fiddling around with the dials," Mark continued.
    "At first I was confused, because it didn't seem to do much, except spit
    up weird numbers on the analogue screens, but then I thought about it and
    realized they were dates. They were just; off."

    "Not off," the shorter man said. "Just dates

    set by a different calendar, if you will. The Holmes Field Device was developed
    by Ashleigh Holmes, the younger brother of the more famous Sherlock and
    Mycroft, but he was perhaps even more brilliant. He modified the Gregorian
    calendar to account for leap years and Daylight Savings, changed the accounting
    of seconds, minutes, hours and so on to eliminate the need for such
    inconsistencies. The Holmes Calendar will be adopted eighty three years in your
    future, but it is so accurate that it won't need to be modified until the year
    12,645 AD."

    "Huh." Mark said in response, not caring much.

    "Oh, and he also invented the temporal displacement

    device you found," the man added. "Although it'll be another two
    hundred and eight years before that comes to light."

    "Anyways," Mark continued, killing the history

    lesson. "Once I figured out they were dates and times, I tried setting the
    time back a few hours. After that, I started pushing some buttons. Things got
    blurry for just a split second and then the sun was blinding me. I was still
    alone, but I stepped off and looked around, still in the same spot, but
    obviously at a different time of day. I looked at the clock on my cellphone and
    it seemed to have adjusted to say it was six hours earlier, just like I'd set
    the dials."

    "Your phone adjusted accordingly. Electronics will do

    that."

    "I was really excited to look around but realized I

    didn't want to be caught and I suddenly thought I should be careful."

    "What a novel idea," the tall man said dryly.

    "Go on."

    "Well, I went back to the Holmes Field thing and set it

    to take me back to the time I'd come from. And it did. Then I began thinking
    about what sort of things I might be able to do if I was careful."

    "And this is where it got interesting, yes?" the

    shorter agent remarked.

    Mark explains his connection to Becky.

    Mark nodded. "Maybe I could change things. Not big

    things, but little things. It suddenly occurred to me the D that Miss Fischer
    gave me on my Physics exam earlier in the semester had kept me from getting
    into the university of choice I'd applied to. So I decided to see if I could
    fix that somehow;”

    Mark crept through the bushes under the cover of dark, oddly

    certain than no one was going to see him. He couldn't explain why, but he felt
    a confidence that he would not be discovered because he hadn't been there
    before. It didn't make sense, but maybe that was a good thing.

    He knew where Miss Fischer lived, he'd seen her pull into

    the small, stand-alone house in her Rav4 on many occasions. He slipped onto her
    property through her back yard, instinctively knowing that her rear door would
    be unlocked. It was already ten o'clock, but there was no school the next day
    so she was still likely to be up.

    A stick snapped in the yard one lot ever. His head snapped

    around to see if he'd been spotted, but he didn't see anything. A dog began
    barking. Stupid animal scared the shit out of him.

    He moved quietly across the lawn to the back door, opened it

    slowly and found himself in a small kitchen. It was dark except for a small
    night-light and he paused, listening for movement, hearing no one nearby. He
    stared in bewilderment at the sheer amount of organic cereals and grains that
    lined the counters around the room, along with fresh fruits and other
    nutritious snacks. No wonder she always seemed so perky, even if she was shy
    and retiring.

    Beyond the kitchen, he could see the living room and small

    dining room were still lit. He padded across the linoleum floor silently, hearing
    nothing. He peeked into the dining room and through it into the living room.

    No one. There was a yoga mat on the floor in front of the

    long, flat-screen TV. The decor consisted of low tables and beanbag chairs
    others. Damn, this woman was crunchy.

    He heard water running upstairs and some off-key singing. He

    crept up the steps to the second floor, preparing himself for what would no
    doubt be an awkward situation, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed
    to do this, whether he liked it or not. There was a shower happening and he now
    recognized Miss Fischer's voice. She seemed to be alone and her vehicle had
    been standing by itself in the driveway. If she was already showering, she
    wasn't going out again.

    Mark approached the bathroom, noticing the door was wide

    open. He guessed that made sense, since Miss Fischer had told the class more
    than once that she lived lamentably alone. She took the teasing from her
    students good-naturedly, but now he could confirm it. She was a bachelorette.

    She was singing and he could hear the shower water splashing

    off her body as he hid beside the door. He couldn't believe he was doing this.
    He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, calming his nerves before
    subtly peeking around the door and into the bathroom.

    There was no tub, just a walk-in shower. His eyes went wide

    when he realized that her shower stall was composed of fog and steam-proof
    glass, giving him an almost completely uninterrupted view of the activities
    within. Except for the droplets of water that trickled down the treated glass
    panes, he could see his teacher in all her naked glory. Miss Fischer was facing
    away from him, running her fingers through her long, wet blonde hair, swaying
    her body back and forth, her amazing ass glistening wetly.

    He tuned out her rather painful singing of a Beyoncé song

    and let his gaze travel up and down her womanly form. His heart thundered in
    his chest, to the place where he was worried she might hear it. Miss Fischer
    always dressed rather modestly at school and he was shocked to see what a
    rocking' bod she had. Clearly she hadn't been lying about the yoga and the
    CrossFit she claimed to do.

    Her skin was fair, but not pale. Her shapely back tucked

    into a small waist, which in turn blossomed out into fit hips which were
    anchored by her amazing ass. Her long legs tapered down to tiny ankles. If he
    hadn't been so astonished and exhilarated, he would have had a massive hard-on
    by now.

    "C'mon, turn around;” he found himself urging

    her silently.

    Miss Fischer obliged and Mark thought he might faint. She'd

    always been pretty, of course, but Mark doubt that anyone at school would have
    guessed what a sex-pot their Physics teacher was. Where the hell had she been
    keeping those tits? Did she fucking strap them down? They were large, yet
    perky. The tiny pink nipples sat atop them proudly, announcing the arrival of
    their mistress right behind them. Her stomach was flat, but still soft, begging
    to be kissed. He forced himself to look lower and saw that her cunt was shaved
    except for the small strip of trimmed hair above. The nether lips were even and
    not quite plump, but still dismissed any worries of a bony thigh-gap. Her clit
    hood barely peeked out over the top.

    "Fucking fuck;” he thought, his mind racing. "Who

    knew Miss Fischer was so insanely hot?"

    He watched rapt, utterly forgetting that she might see him

    if she happened to look his way. The blonde seemed to have no interest in life
    beyond those glass panes, however, as she caressed her body slowly, making sure
    she was cleansed of her organic craft shower gel. Her manicured hands glided up
    and down her lovely body while she closed her eyes, letting the water from the
    showerhead rinse it away.

    As Mark watched, she kept her eyes closed but bit her lip

    gently, one of her hands moving up to slowly and gently caress her tits while
    the other snaked its way down her stomach and between her legs to begin playing
    with her cunt. A quiet sigh escaped her mouth and Mark felt his cock rapidly
    swelling inside his jeans.

    The teacher pressed her forehead against the glass, her eyes

    still closed. Her hand massaged her ample tits while the hand between her legs
    moved up and down slowly, massaging the lips. Mark swallowed and adjusted his
    cock inside his pants as he watched intently, unable to believe he was being
    treated to this incredible show. Another moan escaped her lips as she pleasured
    herself and began pinching one of her nipples.

    It took all of Mark's willpower to not pull his cock out and

    begin stroking it on the spot, because he had other plans. Miss Fischer, not so
    constrained, continued to finger her cunt until she was panting. She stopped
    suddenly and reached up to pull the detachable showerhead off its arm and
    brought it down to her body. She hummed as she let the stiff streams beat
    against her shoulders and then her tits. Mark could see her already hard
    nipples getting ever harder.

    She then slowly moved the showerhead down her sensual form,

    over her trim stomach and between her legs. She let out a loud sigh as the
    water battered her lips and clit. She turned herself around again, pressing her
    ass cheeks against the glass while she put the showerhead under her cunt to
    continually stimulate it. Her cheeks squirmed rhythmically around on the glass
    pane as she jet-fucked herself. Mark watched in disbelief as one hand came back
    behind and spread her cheeks to play with her little, puckered knot.

    Miss Fischer let out a grunt as her middle finger slid

    inside her ass while the showerhead continued to bombard her cunt with its tiny
    jets. Mark gripped the front of his pants again, unable to resist, giving
    himself a squeeze. He sincerely hoped she wouldn't last much longer, because he
    wasn't sure he would if she kept this up.

    Fortunately for Mark, his teacher did not seem terribly

    interested in delaying her reward. The squirming became more pronounced and she
    groaned as her body began to tremble and then shake. Her finger was working
    itself in and out of her ass faster and faster while the showerhead was almost
    crushed to her cunt lips.

    She let out a gasp and a cry before falling to her knees,

    her body almost spasming as she came. Mark gritted his teeth as he watched,
    desperately willing himself to not massage his cock and join her in autoerotic
    bliss. The restraint would be worth it. He removed his hand and settled for
    squeezing the doorframe while watching his teacher. Miss Fischer slowly leaned
    forward until  her head was on the floor, her ass in the air. She moved
    the shower jets slowly up and down over her molten sex while her finger teased
    her ring. He listened to her panting and sighing as she started to come down
    from what was a clearly badly-needed orgasm.

    Mark couldn't wait much longer or he'd lose his nerve. He

    quietly stepped into the bathroom and started to head toward the shower. Miss
    Fischer had finally moved up back into a kneeling position, still facing away
    from him and taking slow, deep breaths. She then got to her feet and replaced
    the showerhead back in its arm above her. She rinsed her face and body again
    before turning off the water.

    Silently, Mark waited off to the side while she slid open

    the door and stepped out somewhat awkwardly, trying to get her long, wet hair
    out of her face. She groped around blindly for several moments and Mark
    realized she'd forgotten where she put her towel. He handed her a hand towel
    which she absently took and wiped her face with before pushing her hair back.
    Mark meanwhile handed her a full-sized body towel.

    "Thank you, Mark," she said pleasantly. "I'm

    always; Mark!"

    This last bit was exclaimed loudly and she slammed herself

    back against the opposite wall from him, her eyes wide with utter shock. Both
    towels she'd been holding flew from her grip, leaving her naked and dripping
    wet. He had no idea why, but he tried to maintain eye contact with her.

    "Uh; hi, Miss Fischer," he said somewhat awkwardly

    before swallowing. "Uh; nice shower you've got there."

    Some of her wits seemed to return and she realized she was

    standing naked in front of one of her students. She moved her hands about
    haphazardly, making several comical attempts to cover herself, eyes still wide
    and mouth agape.

    "Wha; wha; y; you;” she stammered.

    "Yeah, I didn't exactly expect to be here either,"

    he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "First of all, don't scream or
    anything. I'm not here to’

    "Then why are you here, you little pervert?" she

    hissed, finally regaining control of her vocal chords. "Get the fuck out
    and I'll possibly consider not calling the police!"

    "I; can't;” he admitted weakly.

    She frowned and looked down at his legs, choosing to ignore

    the rather obvious bulge in the front of his pants. "Your legs work just
    fine, young man, but I'll tell you what's not going to after I've kicked you
    there if you don't get out of my house."

    "No, I;” he began but then realized he didn't quite know

    how to articulate what he wanted to say. What the hell had he been thinking,
    doing any of this?

    He finally bent over and picked up the large body towel

    she'd lost and handed it to her. "Maybe; I guess you should put this on
    first;”

    She snatched it away from him and wrapped it around her

    body, but if he'd been hoping this made her more amenable to his presence then
    he'd been wrong. What did happen was her eyes began to blaze with fury
    as she composed herself.

    "So help me, Mister Simmons," she growled as she

    advanced on him menacingly, her near-nudity forgotten. The towel did very
    little to conceal her buxom figure. "If you don't tell me right this
    instant what the hell you are doing in my house, watching me take a shower,
    I'll show you exactly what CrossFit has done for me, along with the jiu-jutsu
    classes. You'll be wishing I'd called the cops."

    Mark held up his hands, hoping to calm her. "There's no

    need for that, teach, I’

    "Don't call me that off school grounds,"

    she snapped, still moving toward him until it was Mark backed up against the
    wall. "Ex-plain your-self;”

    Mark swallowed again, fearing for his well-being. He'd been so

    much smoother when he thought this over in his head earlier. "You; you
    failed me on the Physics exam."

    She paused in her menacing advance for a moment and raised

    an eyebrow. "Your exam isn't for another two months. Irrelevant. Why are
    you creeping on me?"

    "I know it isn't," he said hastily. "But;

    you're going to fail me."

    "Then maybe you should be back home studying instead of

    breaking into my house," she snapped, getting ready to beat him senseless.
    This wasn't like him, but that was no excuse for endangering her. "Last
    chance and then it's night-night time with my fist in your brain."

    Mark squeezed his eyes shut, trying to compose himself. His

    heart was pounding so hard that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to get another
    erection again. "It; I can't explain it if I think you're going to kill
    me! Please stop threatening to kill me and I'll tell you."

    She stopped cornering him and paused, looking annoyed and

    skeptical. "This'd better be good, because you're either going to find
    yourself punched unconscious by a girl or talking to the cops. Explain and then
    you get your choice."

    "It's; actually really good," Mark breathed.

    "I'm not me. I mean, I'm me, but not the me you know."

    "A doppelganger?" she asked dryly, not amused.

    "Lay off the sci-fi and anime, Mark, it's making you too stupid for
    physics."

    "No, I;” he paused and took another deep breath.

    "I'm Mark from this coming up summer."

    "Oh, you're a time-traveler now, are you?" she

    mused snidely. "So tell me, since you already know; do I eat your heart or
    your liver tomorrow with my afternoon salad?"

    "Look, look;” he said, trying to keep his voice from

    pissing itself in fear as he reached into his wallet. "Look, here's my new
    voter ID that I got just after my birthday."

    He held it out for her to look at. She glanced at it and

    then up at him, clearly not impressed. "Ya' know, other kids fake their
    ID's to say they're old enough to drink. This one just says you're now
    eighteen. No wonder you're failing physics, you can't even fake an ID
    right."

    "Uh, no, I;” Mark stammered, frustrated with how badly

    he was fucking up. "I can't help when I'm from, I'm from three months in
    the future."

    "And you're here to tell me I'm secretly pregnant with

    the man who will lead us to victory over the AI machines?" she sneered.
    She cracked her knuckles. "It's a pity, you actually were a pretty
    good-looking kid before I did this to you;”

    "No," he blurted out. "I came here to

    convince you to change my grade because the university I wanted to go to
    rejects me over that grade!"

    She paused for a moment. "Okay, so why didn't you just

    study?"

    He shrugged nervously. "I don't know. I can't do

    anything about that now. Except like this."

    Miss Fischer stopped and closed her eyes for a moment. This

    was the weirdest home invasion and rape she'd ever heard of. "What?"

    "Maybe; it was stupid of me to fail," Mark said.

    "But that's my past. I can't change it directly. But I was hoping to come
    here and convince you to let me pass anyway."

    "If for some reason I were inclined to believe

    that you were from the future, which I don't, by the way," she stated.
    "Why would I change your grade if you don't deserve it? Maybe you shouldn't
    be going to university next year, maybe you need to, oh, I don’t know, quit
    doing juvenile shit like this and grow the fuck up before you go out into the
    world?"

    "Can we; can we talk about this somewhere else?"

    he asked nervously.

    "No, I think we're good right here," she said

    flatly. "You're backed into a corner and can't escape. But if I let you
    live, clearly you might have a job as a science fiction writer. Tell me more
    and keep it good."

    "No, you'll kill me." Mark said, sweating

    profusely.

    "I'm definitely going to kill you," she pointed

    out. "But if your lie amuses me, I might make it quick and painless. Your
    choice. And go."

    Mark didn't know if she was kidding or not, but he decided

    to treat the threat as real. "I; I came here to seduce you and convince
    you to change my grade."

    Miss Fischer paused, her eyes widening. She said nothing for

    several seconds but then mirth creased her pretty features and she began to
    snicker. Seconds later, she was laughing loudly and uncontrollably.

    "It's not funny." Mark grumbled, scowling darkly.

    "Yes, yes it is;” she wheezed, her outrage clearly

    giving way to utter amusement. "Oh, God; I almost wish this was true.
    There'd be so much less blood to get out of the grout on my floor;”

    She stood up and looked at him again, her eyes shining with

    tears. "So let; let me get this straight; you came here to sex me up so
    good that I'd give you a passing grade you don't deserve?"

    She burst out laughing again, leaning against the sink to

    hold herself up. In spite of his predicament, he noticed her magnificent
    cleavage down the top of her towel. Miss Fischer seemed to have forgotten.

    "I was a lot smoother in my plan for all this." he

    muttered.

    "Oh, I'm sure you were, Mark," she said almost

    sympathetically as she looked up at him again, tear stains on her cheeks. She
    smiled and he couldn't help but notice she was beautiful. He really had no idea
    of how to proceed, even if the was committed at this point. "So how's your
    plan working out so far?"

    "Fairly rotten," he said. "I didn't know

    where I'd find you when I came in and then I saw you in the shower and just;
    well, I couldn't help but watch."

    What he was saying slowly dawned on her and he could see she

    was getting irate again.

    "You stood there and watched me masturbate?" she

    hissed, her eyes flashing. "You little pervert!"

    "Take it as a compliment!" he said hastily,

    wincing. "You're really really pretty!"

    "And this is where you tell all the other boys at

    school, right?" she growled.

    "No," he said, shaking his head. "I don't

    think anyone at school has any idea what sort of a knockout you are, miss. I
    mean, you dress pretty conservatively. Any of the girls who saw what I just did
    would be really jealous."

    "Well, thank you for that, but that doesn't mean you're

    allowed to creep on me!" she shot back. "Honestly, why am I still
    letting you live, you little felon? Are you hoping the courts will take it easy
    on you because you're not eighteen yet?"

    "I am eighteen," he insisted. "I'll prove

    it."

    "You're going to let me cut you open and count the

    rings?" she asked.

    "No, I;” Mark began, his mind racing. "Your

    dresser!"

    "What?"

    "Your dresser in your room," he said, nodding.

    "In the back of the third top drawer, there's hand-written note from you
    to yourself about tonight. And to prove to yourself that it's true, you wrote
    down something only you know about yourself."

    She paused and frowned at him for several seconds before

    stepping aside and allowing him out of the corner. She pointed out toward the
    hallway. "March, mister. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

    Mark exited the bathroom and walked down the hall to one of

    two bedrooms, which was currently dimly illuminated by a small Himalayan
    rock-salt lamp. She made him stand in the middle of the room and wait quietly
    while she began rummaging in the drawer he had mentioned. She seemed to have
    forgotten she was only wearing a towel or had stopped caring.

    "You're mother's going to weep at your closed casket

    funeral after I bite your eyeballs out for staring at my ass." Miss
    Fischer said as she kept digging around while bent over. Mark coughed and
    looked away from her ass.

    She finally stood upright, holding a small envelope she'd

    withdrawn from the back of the drawer. She frowned as she examined it for
    several seconds, as if she didn't recognize it. She looked at him again, her
    eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You swear you've never been in my house
    before?"

    He nodded, placing one hand over his heart and the other in

    the air. "Never, miss."

    She considered and then unsealed the envelope, pulling out

    the single, folded page and began reading.

    Whatever she red caused her to sit, almost flump very

    suddenly on the edge of her bed, her eyes wide with disbelief. She looked at
    him and held the letter up in a trembling hand. "Is this true?"

    Mark shrugged. "You wrote whatever is in there, I have

    no idea. The only thing I can tell you that's true is what I already told you,
    Miss Fischer. I'm Mark from the summer and I've come back in time to convince
    you to change my grade so I can go to university."

    She sat on the bed, looking dumbfounded. She said nothing

    for several seconds, staring off at the far wall blankly. She then looked back
    at him again and held up the page. "I wrote this. I wrote this after I;
    after you and I;”

    He nodded. "I'm assuming you did it to prove all this

    to yourself."

    "How is this possible?" she asked, still lost.

    "How are you even here, if you're from the future and I'm not just
    bug shit nuts and hallucinating all this?"

    "I; I have a time machine." Mark replied.

    "Really," she said, nonplussed, her shock fading

    rapidly. "Just like that. A kid who can't pass high school physics has a
    time machine and can operate it."

    "Well, yeah, that's how I ended up here." Mark

    reasoned.

    "Show it to me."

    "I will," he said, nodding. "But first, I

    need to make sure you're going to pass me in that exam. Otherwise, all this
    means nothing."

    "What, so let you fuck me and give you a passing

    grade?" she asked, scowling. "Why should I do all the work?"

    Mark frowned. "First of all, you wouldn't be doing all

    the work, miss, thank you. Second, it's supposed to happen this way or I
    wouldn't be here."

    "Bullshit," she snorted. "For all you know, I

    sent you home with your dick in your hand and no passing grade."

    "Then what was written on that paper that shocked you

    so much?" he countered.

    Miss Fischer said nothing for several seconds but then

    looked back up at him. "You're; you're sure you're eighteen right now?
    Because you aren't eighteen in my class."

    He nodded.

    "And you'll show me this time machine," she

    pressed, desperate to convince herself. "After we;”

    Mark nodded again.

    Miss Fischer exhaled heavily. "Give me a moment, this

    is a lot to take in."

    "How so?" he asked.

    She scowled up at him. "I'm about to fuck one of my

    students who's apparently a time-traveler and trade a passing grade for sex.
    What do you think is weird about this?"

    He shrugged. "My whole evening's been weird, miss. I

    found that thing that turned out to be a time machine, then I’

    "You just found it today?" she exclaimed.

    "And the first thing you did was decide to come back and fuck your physics
    teacher?"

    "Yeah, I kinda need that grade." Mark admitted.

    She scowled again. "So you came back in time and the

    principal reason isn't even to fuck me?"

    Mark pulled at his face for a moment as he tried to explain.

    "It's like I said earlier, miss. No one at school knows how hot you are
    because you never show it. If you did, every guy and bi girl in the school
    would want to fuck you."

    "Maybe I dress like that so I don't have a pack of

    little horn dogs lusting after, oh;” she murmured, catching herself and
    realizing she just defeated her own argument. Fluid time was rough to argue
    against. She sighed again. "So, uh; how do we do this?"

    Mark scratched his head. "I dunno. Nothing about this

    evening has gone the way I planned it, but we still ended up here. I guess we
    need to improvise."

    Miss Fischer considered. "Well, you've seen me naked

    and doing myself, so I think we need to redress the scales," she sighed.
    "So strip down and let me see what I'm selling my academic integrity for;”

    Mark felt an uncomfortably warm flush of embarrassment at

    her suggestion, but proceeded nonetheless. He had planned on getting naked with
    her anyway, even if had been under more sensual and controlled circumstances.
    Clearly he'd flopped at being the Casanova he'd intended on for seducing her
    and getting that perfect grade.

    He started by removing his t-shirt, pulling it over his head

    while watched impassively. Mark was proud of his body, since he played sports,
    but was suddenly very self-conscious now that he'd seen how stupidly hot his
    teacher was.

    He put a hand against the wall and steadied himself while he

    used his feet to pull his sneakers off. Then he undid his button and unzipped
    the fly on his jeans before letting them drop slowly, revealing his black
    boxers.

    "Well, at least you're not wearing

    tightie-whities," Miss Fischer mused. "That would've been a
    deal-breaker, for sure."

    Mark paused, blushing as he realized he was about to pull

    down his boxers and fully expose himself to his teacher. He had to admit, this
    had never occurred to him before tonight.

    "Well don't wuss out now, Don Juan," she said

    somewhat impatiently. "This was all your idea, after all."

    Mark squeezed his eyes shut, hooked his thumbs into his

    boxers and pulled them down. All she heard was silence for several seconds.

    Finally there was a whistle from Miss Fischer. "Okay, I

    can work with that. Come over here, Mark."

    As he walked toward her, she stood and allowed her towel to

    fall away, revealing her body again. Mark's eyes went wide as she willingly
    revealed herself to him. He was no longer spying on her, this was something
    completely different. Miss Fischer stood directly in front of him, her body
    scant inches from his. She could see in his eyes that he was bewildered by her
    sudden change in attitude.

    "Well, obviously I'm not going to tell you what the

    secret thing only I would know was, but the note also said I should just throw
    caution to the wind and enjoy myself," she said lightly, walking two
    fingernails up his chest and over his shoulder. "And I try very hard to
    take my own advice."

    "So," she declared, looking up into his eyes, her

    blue ones glinting. "We are going to fuck. A lot. In return, I'm giving
    you an amazing grade on your exam, no matter how bad you do and you're showing
    me this time machine my letter confirmed exists. Do we have a deal?"

    He nodded. He was still nervous, but things seemed to have

    worked themselves out, even if it hadn't at all gone as he expected. But maybe
    that was time at work or some deep shit.

    "My note also said I had such a great time that I

    insisted we keep fucking," she purred, her palm now running down his chest
    and over his stomach, perilously close to his nether regions. "How does
    that sound."

    He swallowed again. "That; sounds great. So, do I keep

    travelling back here through time to meet you?"

    "Well, yes," she said rather obviously. "I

    can't fuck the underage Alex in my class and I can't even give away that I
    know, right? He has to remain a blissfully unaware fuck-up."

    "Yeah," Mark said somewhat awkwardly. "Stupid

    kid;”

    "Oh, don't be like that," she said cheerfully,

    teasing her fingers over his cock and making him shudder. "If you hadn't been
    a lazy grot this semester, you wouldn't have needed to come back to change your
    grade, wouldn't have seen me in the shower and known that I'm secretly a hottie
    and then fucked me and got an amazing grade, right?"

    "Yeah, I; I guess." Mark admitted. "So we

    just need to set it up so that I keep coming back to meet you and we do this
    until we catch up with real-time in the future I come from?"

    "Yep, you're my new fuck-buddy," she said sweetly,

    now moving closer to him so that her nipples caressed his skin. "Speaking
    of, you've got some work to do;”

    With that, Miss Fischer moved back to the bed and laid on

    it, her legs still over the side. She looked up at him seductively and spread
    her legs, exposing her cunt, which was glistening wet.

    "You may not have earned that passing grade all

    semester," she said in a husky voice. "But you're sure going to work
    for it now;”

    Mark moved forward, aware of the fact that his cock was

    swelling rapidly and knelt by the bed between her legs. He leaned in close and
    was instantly enchanted by the sight of her slick snatch, which she now spread
    open with two fingers.

    Mark leaned forward and pushed his tongue against his thick,

    slippery lips, guessing that she was not in the mood to be teased. His tongue
    snaked up and down before slithering over her clit, causing her to shudder and
    press her hips against his face.

    "Uh, yes!" she gasped, grasping his hair with the

    free hand and stroking his scalp. "Thank God, you're not a virgin."

    "No miss," he murmured as he kissed his way around

    her cunt, his tongue lapping at the lips. She tasted almost sweet and floral,
    such a big change from that slag Brenda. "I know my’

    "Call me Becky, darling," she sighed, slowly

    undulating her hips rhythmically against his face. "If we're going to be
    lovers like this, save the 'Miss Fischer' stuff for roleplay."

    "Yes miss; I mean, Becky." he replied from between

    her legs. He now put his hands on her thighs to brace himself and began licking
    her in earnest, for once looking forward to earning perfect marks on an exam.
    He could feel his hard-on pulsing and moved her leg slightly so it pressed up
    against him, causing him to shiver. Becky felt it and moved her shin back and
    forth slowly, teasing him.

    "Oh, yes, Mark;” she moaned, her fingers gripping her

    hair. She was sitting up on one elbow so she could look down at him and her leg
    that was not brushing against his cock was now on the bed, bent and spreading
    her wide. He couldn't believe how wet she was. It wasn't water from the shower,
    she was really turned on. Whatever she'd said to herself in that note had
    released a sex demon in her.

    He swirled his tongue around her clit before burying it

    inside her cunt hungrily, eager to drive her into a frenzy. Becky clenched her
    teeth and ground her hips against his face now with a dreadful eagerness. Her
    skin was warm and getting moist as he tongue-fucked her. One hand snaked
    underneath her snatch and the middle finger began teasing her tight, pink knot.

    "Shit!" Becky gasped, shuddering as he slid the

    finger into her tight back tunnel. "You saw me fingering my ass in the
    shower! Uh, fuck yes! Do it!"

    Mark sucked on her cunt while he wriggled his finger in her

    ass, feeling her shin massaging his cock eagerly. As angry as she'd been
    earlier, he was also thinking about her rather shy and retiring persona at
    school and decided to take a gamble.

    Without saying anything, he stood up, bringing his face away

    from her crotch and his finger out of her ass. She gasped and whined, looking
    up at him in needy confusion, but he then reached down to take her arm and pull
    her off the bed and set her on her knees in front of him. Becky took his cock
    in her hand and still slid her tongue around the throbbing head while looking
    up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, glassy with desire. She teased him for a
    few more moments before sliding her lips all the way down his shaft, taking him
    completely inside her mouth. Mark groaned and clutched her wet, blonde hair,
    shivering.

    Becky began slowly bobbing back and forth, her mouth forming

    a perfect, wet seal around him. Her hand followed her mouth along his length,
    stroking and twisting the glistening skin gently. She hummed and moaned,
    vibrating his cock with her mouth and making him shudder again. The fingernails
    of her free nails gently grazed over the skin of his thighs, tingling.

    "Jesus, Mi; Becky;” he gasped. "You're amazing at

    sucking cock!"

    "Umm, I would hope so," she purred, pulling her

    mouth off him long enough to smile up at him while her hand pumped his shaft to
    keep the rhythm. "I watch a lot of videos and practice on some pretty
    life-like dildos, I'd like to think I'm doing something right."

    "You are." Mark sighed as she attacked his cock

    again with her mouth. "You're the best one I've ever had."

    She made an 'Hmm' sound around his cock, clearly enjoying

    what she was doing. She teased his sac with the hand that wasn't massaging his
    cock and reached around to caress and squeeze his ass cheeks. He couldn't
    believe what a libertine she was turning out to be, and he was the only one at
    school who knew!

    When she pulled her mouth off him again and looked up at

    him, he could see there was a deep and smoldering lust in the blue eyes, a need
    for deep sexual pleasure. She squeezed his cock with her hand and her voice was
    almost molten with lust when she spoke to him.

    "I'm getting on the bed again and you're going to fuck

    me," she said huskily. "You're going to make me cum real hard if you
    want that perfect exam score."

    She clambered back on the bed, lying on her back and spreading

    her legs for him again. Mark followed her onto the mattress, kneeling between
    her legs. She massaged her cunt eagerly with one hand while he lined himself up
    with her nether lips. She spread them wide open, revealing her glistening inner
    pink.

    "Fuck me, Mark," she purred, eyeing his pulsing

    cock. "Fuck me good and hard;”

    He pressed the mushroom head of his cock against her pliant

    lips, sliding it up and down, teasing her for a moment and brushing over her
    clit. She sucked in her breath and hissed, her fingers stroking along his
    length as he toyed with her. Then she groaned loudly as he pushed his hips
    forward and slid deep inside with one solid push. Her inner walls gave way
    around his iron-hard shaft but squeezed him tightly. She felt great around him,
    as tight or tighter than any other girl he'd ever fucked.

    "Yes," she hissed, her hand pulling him down to

    lean over her while one leg slung over his back and hooked itself there.
    "Hmm, that's a solid cock you have there, Mark. Now fuck me stupid;”

    He leaned forward and put his hands on either side of her

    body while keeping his weight suspended above her rather than pressed down. He
    looked into her eyes and began to push back and forth, moving his cock in and
    out of her. Becky bit her lip as she looked up at him, her fingernails digging
    slightly into his waist. She clenched her cunt around him as he pushed in and
    relaxed as he pulled back.

    "Oh, God, I've missed the real thing;” she moaned, her

    head falling back as she let the feelings of pleasure flow over her.

    "Yeah, speaking of," Mark said, remembering this

    important point. "I'm not using a condom here, so I'll need to pull"

    "No you don't," she panted as she thrust her hips

    against him. "You've got a fucking time machine, Mark. Think about it! Was
    I pregnant when the semester ended?"

    He thought about that as he kept thrusting into her, having

    a hard time concentrating on anything other than how tight and wet her cunt
    felt around him. "N-no, I don't think so;”

    "Then cum in me!" she gasped. "I'm already

    better at this time stuff than you are! Now fuck me harder if you want that
    grade!"

    Mark nodded and thrust harder and faster against his

    teacher, watching her glorious body shake as he fucked her. Her incredible tits
    wobbled and she squeezed one of them, moaning loudly. Her soft bed barely made
    a sound beneath them as he pistoned his hips up and down. After a disastrous
    beginning, his evening was going better than he could have possibly imagined.

    "Uh, now from behind," she breathed, starting to

    turn over. "Fuck me from behind;”

    Mark grabbed her hips as she slithered around into her new

    position on her hands and knees and ground his cock against her cunt and ass,
    gripping her tight. Becky groaned shamelessly and squirmed her ass back against
    him, biting at her knuckle. She arched her back as he found her cunt and slid
    back inside her. She clearly wasn't interested in any slow buildup, because she
    began grinding back on him eagerly, getting him in as far as she could. He
    could feel the wetness of her cunt dripping on his thigh.

    He kept his firm grip on her hips and began pounding against

    her, shuddering as she squeezed and clenched around him with fervor.

    "Definitely tighter than Brenda!" he

    thought as he thumped his hips to her ass cheeks.

    Becky was panting heavily as she buried her face in the

    pillow, her ass arched in the air. She gripped the pillow cover between her
    teeth almost tearing at it. A sheen of glistening sweat had formed on her soft,
    creamy ivory skin. She squeezed him with each thrust, his cock feeling bigger
    and bigger each time she did it. She'd missed this so badly, sacrificing her
    personal pleasure for the job.

    Maybe now she didn't have to.

    She almost snarled in delight as he reached forward and wrapped

    her hair in his fist, pulling back and craning her neck. For an eighteen
    year-old boy, he was being marvelously assertive now that they'd found their
    rhythm. Becky loved having her hair pulled, but her favorite part was yet to
    come.

    She pushed back hard and forced Mark onto his haunches. She

    straightened herself until she was sitting on his lap, facing away. Becky began
    bouncing up and down, panting as she sank onto his cock, taking it deep inside
    and squeezing it. Mark moaned and his hands came around to clutch her tits,
    squeezing them hard. Her hands joined his in massaging and molesting them while
    they fucked. She had him pinned in one spot beneath her and she alone
    controlled the tempo now.

    She moved her long blonde hair to one side and he understood

    immediately. He began kissing and biting at her neck, causing her to shudder
    and sending slivers of pleasure down her spine. She writhed and bounced on his
    lap with abandon, reveling in the sensation of a real cock deep inside her
    after all this time. She resisted the very strong urge to turn her head to the
    side and kiss him. Not just yet.

    When she felt the inklings of deep pleasure building inside

    her, she moved off his cock and pulled him around onto the bed, lying him on
    his back. Her eyes were fairly blazing with lust as she straddled him, lining
    her gooey cunt up with his throbbing hard-on. They both moaned loudly as she
    sank down onto him, his cock burying itself up to the hilt. Her fingernails dug
    into Mark's shoulders while she pinned him and she hissed as his hands found
    her tits again.

    "Yes, darling;” she grunted as she began grinding

    herself down on him, shuddering at how deep he was inside her. "Fuck me,
    thrust that cock up inside me, Mark. Fuck;”

    Mark pumped his hips up dutifully, matching her pace. He

    loved the cowboy position and clearly she did as well, but he knew he wouldn't
    last very long at this rate; she felt too good and was too tight for him to not
    bust before long. His hands fondled and mauled her lovely tits before he pulled
    her down closer and took one of the pink nipples into his mouth, sucking on it
    greedily. Becky keened and shivered in delight.

    Mark sucked and rolled his tongue around the pink bud, even

    biting and tugging on it, much to her pleasure, seemingly, because she got even
    wetter and tighter around his cock while they fucked. He could hear the wet
    sucking sounds her cunt made as it swallowed his cock, feel her warm, sticky
    wetness on his thighs. He'd never imagined it would feel this good. He'd been
    certain earlier that most of his time would be spent conning his shy teacher
    into doing this at all, forget the grade issue.

    But Miss Fischer was a sex-starved fiend, seemingly, and she

    was going to make him cum harder than he ever had before. Her golden hair fell
    around her lovely face, which was mere inches above his. Her eyes were closed
    as she concentrated on working her hips against him, up and down, his cock
    nearly all the way out of her before she took him back deep inside her
    steaming, slick tunnel.

    They were both covered with sweat and ragged gasps were all

    they could manage as they gripped one another and writhed lustily, desperate to
    cum together. Mark gritted his teeth and was squeezing her tits again while
    Becky pushed down harder and harder on his cock with each thrust. She began
    whimpering and shaking and Mark could feel her cunt clenching tighter and
    tighter with each moment.

    "Oh, shit;” she gasped, her whole body shuddering now

    as she pushed down feverishly. "Oh, God, Mark, I'm’

    She sat up straight and arched her back, teeth gritting as

    she fought to hold on for those last few precious moments;

    Becky almost screamed and Mark moaned loudly as the

    floodgates burst. His throbbing cock began pumping cum deep inside her and her
    cunt spasmed around rippled around him. Everything went black for Mark as he
    was enveloped by a tingling warmth of an intensity he'd never known before. He
    could feel his cock and even his balls spilling his entire offering into her
    slick, tight depths, both of them still thrusting against one another madly.

    Becky finally collapsed on top of Mark, her chest heaving.

    Her body was limp, almost like a wet dishrag. Mark lay beneath her, equally
    exhausted. His still-hard cock was buried in her cunt, and they could both feel
    their mingled essence oozing out of her and trickling down his shaft. Her soft,
    warm body felt divine against his.

    Slowly, sluggishly, he wrapped his arms around her and she

    hummed contentedly at the embrace. She finally opened her eyes and smiled
    before kissing his nose.

    "I think you earned that perfect exam score," she

    purred. "Definitely earned it."

    "That's good to hear," he mumbled, still lost in

    lethargic pleasure. "I'd better start failing all your quizzes too."

    Becky giggled and hugged him close, sighing. She finally

    brought her head up again, resting it on her elbow and looking at him.
    "We'll be laying here for a bit yet, but we also need to talk about doing
    this again. A lot. The letter said so."

    Mark nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that, Becky. Then it's up

    to you to make sure my past self doesn't suspect anything."

    "I'm sure I can work that out," she mused.

    "He's pretty annoying, unlike your sexy self."

    He smiled. "Hard to believe how much difference three

    months and a time machine can make."

    "Hmm, and you still have to show it to me before we

    part ways for the night," she said lightly. "The letter says you kept
    your word and showed it to me. So let's shower up and then you can take me to
    see it, okay?"

    Mark nodded. This was, thus far, the best evening ever.

    They were walking back to Becky's house, arm-in-arm,

    laughing and talking like lovers. Not only had Mark shown her the time machine,
    he had actually shown her how it worked by bringing her back to earlier in the
    night. They'd hidden in the neighbor’s yard and watched Mark's earlier self
    creep to her back door. Becky had stepped on a stick that broke loudly and
    caused Earlier Mark to look around warily, but a barking dog covered the
    mistake.

    "I was wondering what that sound was," he

    chuckled. "Never would've guessed it was you and I."

    "Yes, but you need to be careful, Mark," she said,

    trying to sound serious as they said on a quaint swing in her backyard, holding
    hands. "I don't know how all this works, but getting that close to your
    earlier self can't be good. You need to remember where and when you've gone to
    avoid yourself."

    He nodded. "I promise to not visit you more than once a

    day, at night. You'll clear an area on your basement floor where the Holmes
    Field Device can show up undetected by anyone else, away from prying
    eyes."

    She nodded. "We'll need to fine-tune the dials and so

    on to get exact coordinates, but I think the device moves somewhat slowly
    against the earth's rotation, so you can actually travel physical distances as
    well as through time if you're extremely careful."

    "Wow, Becky," he said, shaking his head.

    "You're already better at this than I am by a factor of a thousand."

    Becky smiled. "I want to say it's because I'm a physics

    teacher, but that'd be a lie. It's just solid math and common sense,
    really."

    She turned in to face him in the loveseat of the swing and

    brought his hands up to rest against her heart. She stared deep into his eyes,
    the darkness of night protecting them from prying eyes.

    "You have my word, Mark, that you'll receive that

    perfect test score," she said quietly. "In return, you'll do extra
    studying with me on the nights you come back and fuck me, so that just maybe
    you'll actually deserve any offer you might get."

    He nodded. "And I promise I'll find some way to take

    you on a time excursion."

    She smiled and brought his hands to her lips, kissing the

    fingers gently. "We're going to be fucking so often, Mark. We'll be sick
    of each other by the time the semester ends."

    He smirked. "Doubt that, teach. You're the best fuck a

    guy could ask for. And I can't even tell anyone."

    Becky giggled and lowered his hands, letting them linger on

    her soft tits beneath the shirt she now wore. She sighed at his touch and then
    leaned in to press her lips to his, finally kissing him. They rocked slowly on
    the swing beneath the moonlight, kissing silently for several seconds before
    Mark gently pulled back and smiled.

    "I'd better get going," he said, his voice tinged

    with regret. "Couple of more seconds of that kissing and I wouldn't have been
    able to leave."

    Miss Fischer nodded. "I know. See you tomorrow

    night?"

    He grinned. "That's the plan. Have a good night,

    teach."

    "It already was, thanks to you, Mark." Becky said,

    blowing him a kiss and then waving as his silhouette retreated out of sight.

    Silence.

    Becky leaned back into the slowly rocking swing and stared

    at the stars overhead for some time. Finally she giggled and stood, skipping
    back into the house cheerfully. She had a letter to write.

    Back to the interrogation:

    The two agents were silent as they assessed the young man,

    who waited stoically for some sort of reaction from them. He found himself
    waiting several minutes, which he was not surprised by.

    "So?" Mark said finally. "Totally hot story,

    right?"

    "Yes, we're both agog and atwitter," the tall man

    said dryly. "Young man, the Temporal Enforcement Agency takes a dim view
    of using any device, registered or otherwise, being used for reckless personal
    reasons, forget showing such anachronistic technology to anyone from a time
    period not acquainted with time travel."

    "Well, why the hell would I know that?" Mark

    retorted. "I'm not the one who left a Holmes Field Device lying around in
    the bushes in the Twenty-First Century where any shmuck could find it. You're
    lucky it was me and not some deranged criminal."

    "Be that as it may," the short man interjected.

    "There are consequences for reckless use of a temporal device."

    "Imagine that," Mark said somewhat petulantly,

    having a sinking feeling he knew what was about to happen. "So, what,
    you're just gonna take it away from me?"

    Neither man answered immediately. Something occurred to Mark

    and an evil grin spread across his face.

    "You can't take it away from me," he

    concluded, seeing the dismay in their expressions as he figured it out.
    "I'm meant to have this Holmes Field Device or you already would have. You
    know I'm going to be using it in the future so there's no way to keep it from
    me."

    "Well, your personal future," the tall man

    admitted. "Much of your personal future is still the past for my partner
    and I, but this past you're in right now is completely new to the two of
    us."

    "So, my future self is in your past but my now self is

    just happening?" Mark asked. "Wild. How do you keep it all
    straight?"

    "By doing as little as is humanly possible," the

    short man said very firmly. "Even trained experts in quantum and temporal
    travel can get confused when the timelines gets cluttered."

    He now pointed to his partner's ear. "You see his

    bionic ear?"

    Mark nodded.

    "I accidentally shoot it off six years from now and

    there's nothing either of us can do about it. It's his past, because it's
    already happened to him, but it's my personal future. All I can do now is
    apologize in advance."

    The tall agent grunted and looked away, clearly displeased.

    "That's really deep." Mark mused.

    "Yes, it is. It's not meant for idiots. And whether you

    like it or not, certain things can never, ever happen. Time will prevent
    paradoxes from happening."

    "Like what?" Mark asked.

    "For instance, you cannot go back in time and kill your

    own grandfather before he gives birth to your father, because that would mean
    you never existed and therefore could never pull the trigger to kill him. A
    paradox."

    Mark shrugged. "Okay, but how does it stop me?"

    "Who can say?" the short agent replied. "All

    I can tell you is that you simply won't succeed in killing your grandfather, no
    matter how hard you try and meticulously you plan. If you try to shoot him, the
    gun will jam. If you try to poison him, it'll turn out he is immune to it or
    you used tap water by mistake. If you try to strangle him, you might have a
    heart attack before you finish the job. You; will; be; stopped. The Temporal
    Enforcement Agency spends most of its time making sure nitwits like you don't
    get clock-hammered every time they get a dumb idea."

    "Huh," Mark said, still trying to wrap his brain

    around all this mumbo-jumbo. If he hadn't fucked Miss Fischer earlier, he still
    might not believe this was real. "What else can't I do?"

    "People usually find it's hard to get close to

    significant historical events," the tall agent mentioned. "Alexander
    cutting the Gordian Knot, the Crucifixion, the Yalta Summit; Time doesn't like
    it when people who shouldn't naturally be somewhere try to crowd in and get
    involved or snap a few pictures. They'll find that the technology fails to get
    them there, generally. We call it 'The Limelight Effect'. Do yourself a favor
    and don't try. We've seen people get stranded and die in the wrong era because
    of the Limelight Effect when the batteries or power source on their device go
    suddenly dry."

    "Well; what if I wanted to; ya' know, get with a girl

    from another time period?" Mark asked.

    The agents looked at one another and sighed in despair.

    "You kids and getting laid," muttered the shorter one. "Same
    principals as before; get too close to a famous women you want to have coitus
    with and Time will push you away. Try to become your own father by having sex
    with your mother and Time will stop you. You'll get smacked down real hard for
    those types of shenanigans."

    "So Time would clock-block me?" Mark laughed,

    earning him a withering stare from the two men. He coughed and stopped talking.

    "Look, you're absolutely right that we can't take your

    time machine away or stop you from using it," the tall agent said.
    "We're here to impress upon you the need to not be, in your century's
    vernacular, 'a total fucktard' about this. Believe it or not, we want to help,
    because Time is a very harsh mistress and frankly, you're a moron who couldn't
    be bothered to pass high school physics. This doesn't bode well."

    "Best advice, try not to use it," the shorter man

    added. "If you must, keep careful track of where you've been and when.
    That way you don't trip yourself up. And do not, for your own sake,
    travel forward in time ahead of where you currently exist. The Agency will have
    no problem throwing you in prison for eternity since it is now your personal,
    uninterrupted future."

    "That's not fair," Mark said, scowling. "Why

    can they do that?"

    "Let me be blunt," the shorter man said, leaning

    forward and smoothing his tie. "In the future, nations and alliances
    understand time travel and how to do it. But idiots like you from the past or
    selfish jerks from concurrent time or even beyond cause problems by doing
    stupid things. Time-knots caused the economic downfall of the Oceanic Pact and
    the resulting riots killed tens of thousands. People who didn't deserve to die
    because of people like you who don't care about the big picture."

    He held out a small device with a screen displaying a black

    girl with vibrant green eyes, smiling. She wasn't more than five.

    "T'Pani here was killed in the Time Troubles riots and

    there was nearly a total ban on all time travel once war was averted and the
    Temporal Enforcement Agency was created in response. She didn't deserve to die.
    So think before you do things, got that, kid?"

    Mark nodded.

    "Good," said the taller agent, who tossed him a

    small gadget. Mark examined it in his hand. It looked like an old-school brass
    pocket watch on a chain. "It's a type of chronometer. It'll help you get
    around if you're ever stupid enough to end up lost. Warning though, it won't
    work in front of people who don't know what a chronometer or a watch are. Use
    it carefully."

    And with that, the two men turned and exited from his

    bedroom. Mark didn't dare follow them. He sat silently for some time, pondering
    the situation he now found himself in.

    Mark’s new sex partner.

    And another evil smile crossed his face.

    Becky panted as she pressed herself against the glass of her

    shower door with Mark behind her, holding her tight as he slid his cock slowly
    in and out of her ass. She felt herself beginning to contract and clench as
    orgasm approached. She ground back against him lustily and Mark groaned as he
    lost control and began pumping his cum deep into her.

    "Yes, Mark!" she wailed as she joined him in

    cumming. They writhed and slithered together in shared ecstasy until they were
    both spent, sinking to their knees and slowly recovering under the jets of
    water from her showerhead. His hands caressed her soaking body while hers
    reached back and wrapped around his neck.

    "Hmm, I think you just passed next Tuesday's pop quiz

    as well," she purred, nuzzling his cheek. "Would it be asking too
    much for you to fail every test and quiz if I can guarantee you a pass?"

    "I think I can promise that," he replied, causing

    Miss Fischer to giggle. She ran her fingers through his dark hair.
    "Whatever teach wants, teach gets."

    "Good," she said softly. "You have a lot to

    catch up on."

    "Don't worry, Miss Fischer," Mark said assuredly,

    turning her face so he could kiss her. "If there's one thing I've got
    plenty of now, it's time;”

    To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts, for Literotica.

    1 hr 7 min

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